𝕭𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝕿𝖜𝖔
𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: From trolls to dragons to foreign princesses, Astraea Aphelion grows stronger as she
continues to navigate medieval Britain using her wit and heart, standing unshaken beside Merlin and Arthur as they face every threa...
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📍 Camelot
⏳September, 505 AD
"You poisoned her!?" "I did not have a choice!" "You idiot!"
I was beyond angry at Merlin after he revealed what he had done to stop the attack on the castle. He had somehow figured out that the spell that had caused the knights to rise had been tied to Morgana in some magic way; so he had determined that by threatening to kill her, he could get Morgause to call them off – betting all his money on the assumption that the sorceress cared for the Lady.
By some heavenly miracle, the stunt had worked, but now Morgana was missing and we had no idea where to even begin looking for her. Furthermore, Uther was as strict as ever, having fallen into a depressed state after his ward had disappeared.
"Anyway – we have more pressing matters to deal with," my friend went to change the topic. And I wouldn't have allowed it, but his comment piqued my interest. "What do you mean?" I asked with a head tilt. "I may or may not have freed Kilgharrah," he replied, averting his gaze. "How is that a concern? He's always been about the rise of Albion or whatever. Surely he wouldn't do anything to jeopardise that," I argued. "I would not be so sure, he seemed pretty out of it." "Dang-it."
So I called a temporary truce on the Morgana subject and we decided to focus on the recently paroled dragon. It was a good thing we did.
Much to my shock, Merlin's assessment of the beast's behaviour had been correct. Kilgharrah was thirsty for revenge upon Uther for all the time he'd been trapped. Such thirst that he was completely blinded by it, overriding his vision for the future of England. All he wanted was the King's head on a plate and he would stop at nothing to get it. At least that's what it seemed like to the innocent people of Camelot whose houses had been burnt by the winged dinosaur's rage.
It started out on the outskirts of the city: farmhouses being trashed, some scorch marks, but nothing too serious. However, as he got closer and closer to the castle, circling a couple of miles per night, the attacks started to get increasingly vicious. Victims were badly burnt, if not roasted to death. The dark silver dragon seemed to show no mercy.
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