❝ MERLIN'S GHOST! ❞
❝ I MEAN, YOU'RE NOT WRONG. ❞
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
Albany Bronwen was no Chosen One by any means, but being haunted by the ghosts of the greatest sorcerer of all time and a former king had to count for something, right?
❃ in which a lone...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▬▬▬▬
TOMORROW BECAME TODAY IN the blink of an eye, and Albany spent the morning fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit.
She was sure she hadn't slept a wink all night; she spent several hours talking things out with Merlin and Arthur. Apparently, they had pulled back to give her space, worried they had overwhelmed her with too much too soon, and agreed to prioritise the tournament over the search for her soulmate until she was ready. Merlin also, however reluctantly, began explaining the whole dragonlord thing — though Albany wasn't exactly filled with confidence when he informed her that there was no practice or training without an actual dragon.
"I'll be with you tomorrow, when you face the dragon," he had assured her. "Then we can figure out whether or not you have the abilities of a dragonlord."
Albany had frowned, exhaustion conflicting with the large collection of butterflies in her stomach. She was never comfortable with diving into new branches of magic headfirst; with her track record, lengthy practice sessions were a necessity. "And if I don't?"
Merlin's face had been steely. "Well, it's probably safest to have a back-up plan, just in case."
And that had been another thing keeping her up all night; plan B didn't really exist. Sure, she'd been as dedicated as she could be when it came to learning and perfecting the spells she and Carly had chosen, but she certainly wasn't equipped to fight off a fully grown dragon. Brainstorming ideas at three in the morning hadn't been successful, either.
She'd wondered vaguely how the other champions were handling the terrifying anticipation of the next day's events. Did Fleur or Krum even know about the dragons? She could picture them both sleeping soundly, and waking up fully prepared and energetic to take on their dragons with bravery and skill. Harry, on the other hand, she worried wasn't sleeping well either. He hadn't seemed exactly relaxed yesterday, and though his magic was impressive for his age — or so everyone said — he was still only a fourth year.
Merlin, he hasn't even taken his O.W.L.s.
If she had slipped into sleep at all, she must have dreamed of the tournament, because when she blinked her eyes open in early hours of the morning, she had a strange feeling of disappointment that she still had yet to overcome the day's obstacles.
The fact that she still had to attend classes that morning was a despicable crime, she'd thought at first; in hindsight, they hadn't lasted long enough. She sat at the Gryffindor table at lunchtime, knowing she would be called upon at any moment. Her leg bounced incessantly, and the inside of her cheek was bleeding from biting it. She still felt thoroughly exhausted; adrenaline the only thing propelling her onward at this point. Breakfast had been promptly skipped, even though it meant enduring Merlin and Arthur's chiding that she wasn't looking after herself. She didn't really mind that, though. She had missed them.
