D' Arc || The King

Chapter XVII

Isabel had been having dreams. They weren't the kind that disappeared when you woke up, no, these plagued her during every waking moment. It was always the same man who came back to kill her and sometimes she let him strangle her to death. Perhaps it was better if she called them nightmares instead since the horrible moment of touching death was branded in her memory. Her heart ached and she silently screamed at night, but that wasn't as painful as the guilt.

She had been reminded over and over again that it was self-defense and it was, but Isabel couldn't shake the feeling of blood dripping onto her face no matter how hard she tried. Nor could she rid herself of the image and stink of a dead body above her. The ghost feeling of metal hands was always locked around her throat and it was slowly driving her insane.

Water splashed onto her face and Isabel looked up, turning her face to the roof of the tent. Her hands rested on the rim of the bowl of liquid in front of her. "You'll just have to move on," she muttered to herself as she flopped down on the bed. Isabel ran a hand over her stomach and Arthur made his way to her.

The little boy had been practicing how to walk, moving around the tent with his toddler's legs. There had been a few near-death experiences when Henry had placed his sword within reach of Arthur, but it wasn't that bad. Their son had been growing stronger due to Isabel constantly feeding him and even giving him most of her own food to keep him healthy.

"Mama?" Arthur asked, his round white face looking up at her. His hand reached up and patted her hair. He was learning to form words, but he hadn't mastered it completely, so his question came out garbled and extremely hard to understand. One thing I hate about babies, Isabel thought wryly. They're impossible to understand while growing up.

"I'm alright, Arthur. Come here," she said, sitting up and picking him up off the floor. She settled him down on her lap. His head tilted backward and he beamed at her, reaching up and grasping at the air. "You're like a little owl," murmured Isabel as she played with his hair, "So pure and curious. How will you react if you have a little sibling?"

Arthur titled his head to the side before looking forward and calling out, "Baba!" Isabel frowned, snapping out of her thoughts. "Who?"

"I'm offended that you've forgotten about me so quickly," Henry said teasingly and she smiled. "Yes, well with you marching around Normandy all day and night the army has been keeping you away from me," she mumbled before he kissed her.

"Are you jealous? We haven't met any resistance for quite some time," said Henry and she rolled her eyes. "If I admitted it, you'd lord it over me and it would hurt my pride," Isabel grumbled and he grinned. "So you are," he declared victoriously and she rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what you mean!" she scoffed and Henry kissed her forehead, letting his fingers trail down her neck to her collarbone before coming to a rest on the neckline of her dress. "And how do I assure you that I am yours?" He murmured, his head dropping to press his lips against her skin. "Not in front of Arthur, Hal," Isabel scolded and he pouted, exaggerating it like a child before she smacked his shoulder making them both smile.

"And anyway, you'll have to wait a few more months. It wouldn't be healthy." Henry narrowed his eyes and she could practically see the gears in his head turning. "You haven't gotten out of bed," he mused and Isabel arched an eyebrow. "I have," she argued and he pursed his lips.

"No, I mean you haven't left the tent. Usually, you're out when the sun rises," he corrected and Arthur looked between his parents, having no idea what was happening, but finding it interesting in his childish state. "I wasn't feeling well," defended Isabel and Henry grinned. "Were there any bouts of nausea?"