No young man-no matter how great can know his destiny.
Astrid Ashryver Morgan, the Queen of the once-great kingdom of Ambience, lost everything centuries ago, and her once loving heart lies broken and in darkness.
And so Astrid's life is about to...
We ride until the sun starts rising in the sky, pausing before some mountains, Gwen still unconscious and slung over Arthur's saddle.
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Merlin states, "The sorceress lives at the western most peak."
I say, "That would be the highest."
"It always is, isn't it?"
"Let's get started, then," Arthur mutters.
A shiver runs up and down my spine, and I say wearily, "Wait." I look to my left to see some piles of boulders. "We've been watched." I look to my husband to see that he knows as well.
"One of your hunches again?" Arthur asks, causing me to turn my head to him. I nod my head once, and so does Merlin. "That's alright then."
We nudge our horses forward and Arthur says, "Tether the horses here. It'll be quicker on foot." We stop the horses by some boulders ahead of us and Arthur and I dismount.
"What about the supplies?" Merlin asks.
"You'll manage," Arthur says.
Rolling my eyes, I say, "I'll help you, dear."
"Thanks, Astrid."
"I'll be carrying Guinevere," Arthur says.
Merlin smirks as he says, dismounting, "She's half the weight of that lot. Even Astrid is a little lighter than her," I whack him on the head for that.
Arthur questions, "Are you suggesting I risk the safety of the Queen and carry even more?"
Merlin volunteers, "I can take her!"
"She's my wife—you've got Astrid," Arthur says pointedly.
"I'll be careful! And, Astrid knows we're just friends, as much as I love her."
"And you're the servant," Arthur reminds him.
Merlin points at him in response before we tie up the horses.
🗡🗡🗡
Arthur walks ahead of us as he carries the unconscious Gwen over his shoulder, while I help my husband carry the supplies.
With the wind tossing our hair and clothes, Arthur asks me and Merlin, "These hunches and funny feelings of yours..."
"They're not funny," The warlock mutters.
"... Stupid, then. Where do they come from, you think?" Merlin and I don't respond straight away as we're struggling to walk up the mountain while carrying the supplies. "You still there, Merlin? Astrid? Don't tell me you two have gone into a sulk."
"We're not sulking. We're just carrying a load a horse would lug along," I mumble back.
