𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 ♕ ʙʙᴄ ᴍᴇʀʟɪɴ

𝖎 ♕ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴏᴅʏꜱꜱᴇʏ

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I: THE END OF AN ODYSSEY

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑, her horse galloping formidably. Even when he was fatigued, the darling horse would not stop. He was one of the best she had taken. Some stallions had been lazy, others had simply been too old to ride. But this horse was young, fit, and eager. Nothing better than a willing horse to take you off into the sunset.

The woman had the reins interweaved with her fingers, squeezing the leather between her index fingers and thumbs. For months now, she had only seen the likes of bandits and slave traders. Her only companions had been the deer and the rabbits, which she had to hunt to survive. She had not laid eyes on a real civilisation in a while. She was used to the isolation, despite its torture. At least she had some liberties, such as her freedom. Ishild wouldn't have known how to cope in a cage.

After days of riding and sleepless nights, she was nearing her destination. Winding through the maze of bushes and wildflowers and beyond the lush meadow below, was Camelot. The castle was roughened from its age, yet there was still a gleam in the towers when the sun fell upon it. The turrets seemed to touch the clouds, as if they were reaching up to the cyan heavens. The crows crooned over the whistle of the wind, hovering over the castle, before swooping down to glide through the meadow.

Relief washed over her as her stallion trampled through the carpet of flowers. Finally, after many months, her journey had come to an end. Her stomach twisted as the sounds of the city became clearer. A solitary black raven crooned to the beat of her heart.

Her stomach groaned and ached. The princess's refusal to stop riding through the night had left her starving. Any food she came by was measly at it was- she was accustomed to lavish banquets and overindulgence. To go from that to nearly no food at all had left Ishild with belly aches that lasted for days. Now, she was used to the hunger. Thirst, however, was something she still struggled with.

Licking her lips, she pulled at the reins. Her horse halted several feet away from the market, where merchants were offering their produce. The clamour of laughter and merriment rang through the air. She couldn't remember the last time she heard genuine, humoured laughter. Recently, she'd only been exposed to hoarse cackles and amused grunts. She dug her heels in again, and the horse trotted onwards. The people jumped out of the way at the sound of hooves on cobblestones. They stared at the woman, whispers fluttering over their lips. Ishild gripped the reins tighter, lowering her head.

Passing through the market, she came across several houses and a couple of inns. She had considered to stop and have a drink, but her stubbornness forbade her.