Wizard's Wish - (Kinda) Yandere SGE x reader

Chapter 110: What Makes Your Heart Beat

(We're already halfway through book 5 guys. And this is the Dovey chapter, and this chapter is one out of very few who are completely first person. But this was such a struggle to write cuz I keep crying omg)

(It's come to my attention that at least some people seem to have not gotten notifications about chapter 108 when it was published. So if you missed it, you can go back and read it if you want. The chapter is filled with a lot of drama but it's not completely necessary to read if you don't feel like it.)

____

I know where Merlin is.
He meant for me to find that clump of hair in Anadil's rat. He knew I'd understand.
But what I know will come to nothing unless I tell someone.
Someone who can find Merlin if Tedros, Sophie, and I die. Someone out of Rhian's clutches.
I must tell them before the axe falls. But who? And how?

As soon as we're shoved out of King's Cove, these moldy sacks over our heads, all I'm left with is my sense of smell and sound. I feel myself kicked up a staircase, my limbs knocking against the other captives. I recognize Tedros' solid arms and clasp his sweaty hand before we're pulled apart. I recognize Sophie's scoffs and her long, soft hair which brush against one of my arms every now and again. Bogden hushed Willam's whimpers; Valentina's and Aja's high-heeled boots clatter out of rhythm; Giselle's and Hiro's sighs and low whispers to each other; Nicola's breaths start and stop, a sign that she's in deep thought. Soon my gown scrapes smooth marble walls, beetle wings rustling as they fall, and my knees buckle as I lurch onto a landing, my body drained from all it has endured. A minty breeze blows in, along with the scent of hyacinths. We must be passing the veranda in the Blue Tower, over the garden where the hyacinths grow. Yes, I hear the songbirds now, the ones outside the queen's bedroom, where Y/n let me rest when I came to Camelot.

But these senses aren't all I have to guide me.
There is a sixth sense that only fairy godmothers have.
A sense that churns my blood and makes my palms tingle.
A sense that a story is barreling towards an end that isn't meant to be, and the only thing that can steer the story right is a fairy godmother's intervention.

It is this sense that made me help Cinderella the night of the ball. It's this sense that made me force Agatha to look in the mirror her first year, when she'd given up on her ever after. It's the sense that made me come to Camelot before the Snake's attack. My fellow teachers surely consider the last a mistake: a violation of the Storian's rules, beyond a fairy godmother's work. But I'd do it again. The King of Camelot will not die on my watch. Not just because he's king, but because he is, and will always be, my student.
Too many of my young wards have lost their lives: Chaddick, Yara, Millicent, Nicholas...
No more.

And yet, what's my move now? I know there is one. I can feel my sixth sense burn even hotter. That familiar sting of hope and fear, telling me I can fix this fairy tale.
The fairy godmother's call.
There is a way out of this.
I wait for the answer, my nerves shredding...
Nothing comes.

Tedros grunts near me as he jostles in frustration against his guards. He's realizing we've been beaten and there's nothing standing between him and the axe.
Sophie's steps meanwhile are much more calculated, deep in thought. It was easy to look down on the girl. But she had the ability to be quite cunning when necessary.
The breeze gusts harder from multiple sides, the smell of morning dew thickening, and for a moment I think we're outside the castle, death ever-near, only to realize there's still marble beneath my feet. The others aren't thinking clearly; I hear their panic— Willam's whimpers turning to sobs, Valentina hissing and cursing, Hiro's frantic movements, Sophie's heels and Tedros' boots skidding, both trying to stall—

Then it all stops.
My guards let me go.
And from the silence around me, I know the others are free too.
I hear a sack pulled off someone's head.
Then Tedros' voice: "Huh?"
I whip the sack off myself, as to the others. We have the same dazed expressions, our hair laced with potato dust.
We are in the Blue Tower dining room, looking out over a veranda, the sky the color of amethyst, warning of dawn.