D' Arc || The King

Chapter VII

It was the sound of birds chirping and the noise of the men waking up that filled the morning sky. There was a low mummer of voices and Isabel's eyes fluttered open. She was drowsy, but she was fairly sure that the room around her was too dark to be the crisp blue morning sky.

Isabel sat up and a blanket slipped off of her shoulders. She woke at the feeling of fabric slipping down her. Where was she? Her mind raced back to the night before, the attack, John, Humphrey, and then finally Henry. She groaned and buried her face in her hands.

Last night, Isabel had drained all her energy running around the camp doing what she could, and then she was pretty sure that she promptly collapsed after stitching Henry up. After that, it was blank darkness and warmth swallowing her.

There was the rustle of the tent flap and she looked up. "Henry, what am I doing in here?" She questioned when she saw him. "You fell asleep," he responded simply before sitting on the edge of the bed with her,  "I didn't want to wake you."

"You should have," Isabel said with a yawn, "Your men will think something happened last night." Henry rolled his eyes before saying, "All they know is that you were too exhausted to tend to them."

Isabel smacked her forehead and she turned to look at him. "What did you tell them?" She demanded. "Nothing scandalous," he said, scoffing and rolling his eyes. Isabel sighed and eyed the food in his hand.

"Do you need me to start working yet?" She questioned as Henry handed her the piece of flatbread and she thought, More bread. Yippe. But she didn't protest or comment on it as she devoured the food as he replied. "No, the men are on edge, but we'll be moving in the afternoon...we have to bury the dead and I have to plan ahead."

At that, Isabel lost her appetite and brushed her hands on her skirt before settling them on her lap and looked him in the eye. "I can help," she said and he shook his head.

"I don't want to overtax you, Isabel." A surge of pure stubbornness rose up inside of her and she straightened, lifting her chin and throwing her shoulders back.

"I can do it. I am not the woman who sits and sews all day. I can work, I've done it all my life," she said confidently. Henry studied her and she didn't break eye contact. She was like a golden blue eyes dragon, rearing at the challenge and daring the English king to tell her 'no'. Henry didn't back down either though, after all, he was the king. He narrowed his eyes before letting out a puff of air.

"You're almost as stubborn as my sister," he grumbled. "But no. I will not let you do this part, Isabel," she opened her mouth to protest, but he held up a hand continuing, "I'm not doubting you, but burying a mass grave won't help you sleep at night."

Isabel looked down and sighed. "I need to work. I will not sit around and do nothing, at least let me wander around the camp. You can't keep me cooped up in here," she said, waving a hand in the air. Henry chuckled and caught it in his. "No, Isabel. I wouldn't dream of it. I just want to keep you alive."

"Everyone dies eventually, Hal. We're human. We should spend our time to learn how to speak, run, laugh, cry, hate, and-" she stopped and looked at their hands. Love, her brain finished and she jerked away from Henry. "I should get going or they'll start to whisper."

She jumped to her feet and walked quickly to the opening and Henry called out, "Where do you sleep?" Isabel paused before turning and looking at him. "On the cart or in the surrounding area," she said. "Sleep with me," he said and Isabel blinked before she felt her face begin to burn a bright red.

Henry realized his mistake and quickly corrected himself, saying, "Just sleep, nothing more. You need a bed and we don't have any other spares. It's better than the cold."