20 year old Ariella Morgenstern lost her mother to an evil sorcerer when she was just seven years old, and has had some pain in her heart since, though her father, King Oberon, hates magic, but not nearly as much as King Uther, because of it. Ever s...
At dawn the next morning, I ask Naomi and Yue to watch the kids after packing the medical supplies and tacking Beauty up in lightning speed and galloping out of Camelot.
The treaty wasn't until tomorrow so no one would miss me if I wasn't there. But I couldn't just let my husband die!
Beauty's hooves thunder across the forest floor as I race to where I saw my husband in the crystal, my white blonde hair flowing out behind me. I'm dressed in my purple and white riding outfit, my hair left loose around my shoulders, my purple cape tied around me.
Beauty was sweating by the time we reach the ground beneath the ridge, and I tug on the reins to halt him near my husband's body, his head resting on a moss covered rock.
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Beauty snorts strongly, tossing his head, as I jump to the ground and grab my medicine bag, similar to the one Gaius got me for my birthday last year, along with my water bottle, and I race river to Merlin, dropping to my knees beside him.
I uncork my bottle before cupping the back of his head and pouring some of the cool liquid to his lips.
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"Merlin?!" I gasp. This causes his eyes to flick to me, surprise and relief swimming in them. "Oh, Merlin, what happened?!"
"Daegel... it... was a... trap... Morgana..." Merlin barely managed to say around the foam that had bubbled in his mouth. My heart pounds in fear at the mention of Morgana. "I've tried using... my magic, but... it didn't work... my leg, and head..."
My gaze drifts down to Merlin's right leg and I feel sick at the sight of the blood in the hole of his pant leg, in the side of his calf, below his knee.
"I'll make up the antidote and heal your leg. And your head. I'll be as fast as I can," I say, stroking his hair a couple of times before I open my bag and find out the right ingredients, feeling Merlin's eyes on me the whole time.
I start mixing the hebrew plant that has the feathered leaves, yarrow, ground into an oil of tincture.
Once I'd made the antidote, I hear a twig snapping behind me, and whip my head around to see it was a boy, around Mordred's age, with a hairstyle like Merlin's, only brown, and brown eyes. He's also wearing a black cape. Anger boils in my veins as he looks at me with a nervous expression, faint recognition in his eyes.
