Chivalry ♛ King Arthur

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"DIS?" She clambered through the dark forest, fearful that she had lost her sister. The eldest girl turned and gripped onto her sister's shoulders. "I'm here, Ida," she answered, letting a small light coalesce within her palm which illuminated her little sister's face, with scratched cheeks and red, teary eyes.

"What're we goin' to do?" Frida asked, bottom lip trembling. It had been a week since they had seen their mother hang and burn. A week of running. A week of not knowing if they would live to see the next day. Eydís smiled or at least tried to. She had to be the strong one, for her little sister.

"What mother told us to do. Stick together." But there was rustling in the woods and the sound of dogs and shouting men. They were running out of time again. Eydís knelt in front of her sister and frowned at the light that began to gather at her fingertips, it would be a dead giveaway of their location.

The girl gripped onto her little sister's hands, trying not to let her see the fear in her dark eyes. "I need you to listen to me." Frida nodded. "Run," Eydís pushed Frida away from her, but the girl stood frozen, watching her sister and the lanterns that were moving closer to them in the woods. "Frida, run!" She turned and ran, stumbling over roots and briars.

By the time she had reached Londinium her dress was in tatters and her feet were bruised and bloody. Lightning flashed across the sky and thunder clapped in response. Heavy drops of rain began falling. They masked the dried tears on her dirty cheeks. She fell forward into the mud and was half tempted to stay there, but somewhere nearby a door was kicked open and several soldiers came stomping out. Though she was young, she knew that men who wore those uniforms were not her friends.

Frida stayed in the shadows, finding an alley with an overhang. The light that had formed in her hands was fading. The energy was leaving her. She couldn't go on, at least not tonight. Instead, she curled up beneath the awning and did not even wake when the old baker found her in the storm and took her into his shop and home.

♛ ♛ ♛

Arthur's head popped into her window, making her drop the old book she had been reading. Frida cursed him for not just using the door like a civilized being. "Go bother someone else," came her insincere lament.

He pulled himself the rest of the way up and fell to the floor with a loud groan and thud, but still managed a bright smile. Frida looked down at him, frowning. She should have known as soon as she knew it was him coming through her window at this hour. "You're bleeding," she deadpanned, unamused.

Arthur looked down at his arm and saw the blood welling up in a handful of spots along the cut. "Just a scratch," he shrugged, at least this time it would be partially true. "Got into a bit of a scuffle with a couple of louts on the docks," he explained, sitting up, as she busied herself with retrieving a wet linen cloth.

Frida gripped onto his wrist and pulled him up, before pushing him toward the small table tucked away in the corner of her room. She rolled up the sleeve of his white doublet and dappled away the blood, pleased to see that it didn't need a salve or a real bandage. Just a good cleaning and pressure would do.

"I can't have you ruining your pretty clothes," she remarked, and that earned her a roll of the eyes and a slight smirk. With the cloth held against his arm, Frida poured him a glass of wine and pushed it across the splintering wooden surface. Arthur brought it closer to him and looked down into the dark liquid, smiling. "How is it you always know exactly what I need?"

Ida looked down at her hands. "Well I'm not a mage," she laughed at her own poor joke, "if that's what you're wondering."

Arthur shook his head and finished the cup before running his hand through his sweaty hair with a deep sigh. "There's one more thing," he began and she found that she didn't like the start of that sentence or the tone of his voice, "I may need to lay low for the night and was hoping to stay here?"

Frida leaned back and crossed her arm. "What if I say no?" She deadpanned. His face fell, but then she cracked a small smile and he did too. "I'm only messing, Art. I'll get some extra blankets down."

Beside her cot, they spread out the extra blankets, balling one of them up to serve as a pillow. It wouldn't be as soft as his feather bed, he gladly accepted it. Frida leaned over the edge of her bed, looking down at him, suspicious again. "It was more than a scuffle if you didn't want to chance going back to the brothel."

He folded his hands behind his head, yawning. "It was between some blacklegs and I knew Jack's Eye would come looking for me. So long as he can't find me tonight, it'll all be forgotten in the morning." The brothel would have been the first place he went looking, but in the small apartments above Edwyn's bakery? Jack's Eye would have never been able to guess that this was his hideout.

"You hope," she countered, brow raised in challenge. Arthur chuckled and shook his head, "I know," he retorted, having been in this sort of situation a time or two before. Frida rolled her eyes and leaned toward her bedside table, blowing out the candle with a single puff of air.

♛ ♛ ♛

Before the crack of dawn, she was in the bakery below, tending to the ovens and sitting aside dough that needed to rest and rise. Arthur had still been sleeping when she left. In the meantime, she worked on glazes for the sweetcakes and buns and gathered the seasonings and spices that topped more savory bread. At this point in her life, everything in the bakery was a mixture of routine and memory.

She had lost track of time, so when her uninvited guest came bustling down the stairs, it ruined the piece of dough she had rolled out to be a pretzel. "Now you decide to use the door?!" Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned up against the island countertop.

Frida repaired the piece of dough and twisted it back into shape, dipping it in a brine before setting it back down to a sheet pan. "Need any help?" He asked, watching as she pressed a stamp into the dough. The seal of the bakery was a dragon clasping a sprig of rosemary and wooden spoon in its talons.

Another pretzel was dipped into the brine and laid out to rest again. "I think I can manage," Ida responded, wiping her damp fingertips on a threadbare apron. Arthur looked around the small kitchen and toward the storefront, noting that the head baker was missing. "All by yourself?" He asked again, poking at the pile of soft dough that she pulled uniform pieces off of.

"Edwyn wasn't feeling well by the time we closed up yesterday," she explained. It would just be her today in the shop and since most of the goods still had to be baked, she hoped people didn't start coming in until the afternoon. Frida glanced up at Arthur, thinking that it was time he went on his way, lest Wet Stick and Back Lack send the blacklegs looking for him. "Won't you be missed?"

"Eh," Arthur shrugged, "they'll get over it." He pushed up his sleeves and reached toward the pile of dough, pulling off a piece to begin rolling on the floured block, "besides, I owe you for letting me stay the night."