Chivalry ♛ King Arthur

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"STONE by stone cracked, crushed, fallen.
Beauty burned, erased, but not forgotten."

Frida drew in a deep breath, reciting the lyrics of an old song that Edwyn had once sung to her as a child. The song was older than the Sword, older than even Merlin, and spoke of a great war that had occurred between Men and Mages. For now, it drew her attention away from the dark cell and to the light that hovered above her palm, pulsing in sync with her own heart.

"I'll take your melodies.
May your last breath fill the air with embers."

Her voice trembled as she took another slow, deep breath to finish the first verse.

"I inhale."

During her repose, she could hear something through the thick stone walls. There was fighting above her. She could make out the sound of swords clashing and the shouts of men dying. Her heart began to beat faster. The loud thudding in her ears was almost enough to drown out everything else. Her light faded and there was darkness around her again.

She crawled, trying to reach the door, but the restraints on her wrists and ankles would not allow her that far. So she pulled and twisted the manacles on her ankles until blood stained her hands and ran down her feet.

Frida closed her eyes and gripped onto the metal, trying to will it to become something softer, something that she could escape from. Nothing happened. Frustrated, Frida screamed until her voice all but disappeared. There were nothing and no one around her. No one would realize she was there.

She felt something. A pain that was rooted deep in her very being. It was followed by a loud rumble that shook the floor and walls. The earth shook too. Something was happening. With a renewed effort, she began twisting the shackles, ignoring the burning pain. She would not be left in the darkness.

♛ ♛ ♛

Arthur clasped onto Bedivere's shoulder, out of breath and covered in debris from the collapsed tower, ignoring his own injuries. "You found them?" He asked, seeing as though Maggie, Blue, the rest of his girls, and even Rubio were filing out into the night. Free of their prison cells. The old knight nodded, but then his expression grew dire. "But we haven't found her yet."

The maid Maggie grasped onto Arthur's arm before he could react. "There's a second set of cells near the docks," she told him, pulling him in that direction.

There had been an eerie calm since the earth shook. Ida looked around her cell, expecting something to happen, but nothing did. She was still in the dark, still bound and chained, still unable to control her own abilities.

"Ida!" Frida lifted her head from the stone wall and looked toward the heavy wooden door where only a thin stream of pale golden light could enter. Her heart jumped at the sound of his voice growing closer. "Art!" She called back, beginning the struggle against her bonds once more with renewed vigor.

The heavy wooden door had no lock, only three large iron hinges bolted into grey stone that could be immobilized with magic. Arthur ran his fingers over the seasoned oak and found it unwilling to move. There was a loud thud as he pushed on it with his shoulder and another, this one louder as he threw all of his weight against the door. It would not budge. Panic swelled in Frida's chest. He was mere feet away from her, but unable to reach her.

Gripping the sword with two hands, he struck the hinges with a savage cry. Two of them broke, completely. The spell over the door broke in a flash of bright red light. Frida shrieked at the sudden blast of light and Art shielded his eyes.

Arthur ripped open the iron reinforced door of the holding cell and sank to his knees next to her. He gathered her into his arms and kissed her bruised temple. "Arthur," she breathed, squeezing his forearm. She frowned as she pulled her hand away from his arm, the warm and slick feel of blood coated her fingertips. "You're bleeding."

He ignored her observation and hefted Excalibur over his head, bringing it down in one swift motion onto the iron shackles that bound her ankles. The rusted metal shattered on the blade's sharp edge. He did the same to the chains on her wrists. Arthur slipped his arms beneath her knees and around her shoulders. "Let's get you outta here," he whispered against her temple, standing with her in his arms.

He didn't know where he was going, but at the first empty bedchambers, he stopped. Her balance was unsteady when he set her back to her own feet. The skin around her ankles broken and raw in her own attempts to escape, but that didn't stop her from pointing at the bed. "Sit," Frida instructed, slipping back into her role as his personal nurse.

Arthur followed her command with a roll of his eyes. "M'lady," he mused in a satirical tone. She finished pulling his stained and tattered tunic overhead. The fine material had been ruined. Ida brushed her fingertips over the small scrapes and scratches, pleased to see that her initial assessment was mostly wrong.

The worst of it was a cut on his abdomen, but that had already stopped bleeding. "It's not bad as I thought it'd be." But in a way it was, everywhere her hands touched was on fire and it made him draw in a sharp breath that she took as discomfort. "Arthur," she muttered, caught off guard by his lusty expression.

"Mmm?" He looked up at her with a soft smile and raised brow. Despite the charming sight, the perspiration that was on his brow and had soaked his shirt did not smell charming in the least.

"You need a bath," Frida told him, managing to keep a straight face even though he had broken out into an incredulous grin at her observation. He stood, holding his side and laughed, hard. "I'm being serious!" She remarked, almost laughing too. "You smell awful."

Arthur gripped her waist and pulled her up against him. "And you're talkin' too much," he quipped before leaning down, placing his dry and rough lips upon hers. Ida froze. But then she leaned into him and felt herself rising up onto her toes. He kissed her. Soft and slow and he tasted like winter, like sticky buns on snowy evenings and crisp morning air.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up," he told her, still breathing heavily with his forehead resting against hers. Frida leaned back against the headboard and watched as he dunked the piece of cloth in a half-full washbasin. Gingerly, he took one of her legs and pushed the dark blue dress up above her knees.

The water stung her raw skin. He glanced up and saw her twisted face. "Sorry," he whispered, thinking that it was the callouses on his rough hands that made it worse. "I know my hands are rough," Art said, reaching for one of her hands, but Frida sat up and lurched forward.

As soon as the last syllable escaped his lips, he found himself interlocked in a kiss. The tender touch they share made the room around them disappear. There wasn't anything else in the world except for them. Something about that feeling made Arthur feel like everything would be okay.

Frida leaned back, her cheeks flushed but her smile was delicate and unabashedly showing her delight. No longer distracted, Arthur finished tending her self-inflicted wounds, wrapping them with pieces torn from the bedsheet. He rose, taking the dirtied cloth and water away.

When he returned to the bed, he held a gold coin in his open hand. On one side was the Pendragon coat of arms, a dragon breathing flames. On the other was the seal of Camelot, a great ash tree growing alongside a river.

"Let's flip a coin," he said. Frida eyed him curiously, not hiding the smile that tugged at her lips. "Heads, I'm yours. Tails, you're mine." He tossed the coin in the air and as it was falling, Ida realized that he hadn't specified which side was which.

I am pleased to announce that Chivalry has been added to The Watty's 2018 Longlist! Help this story make the Shortlist by spreading the word and recommending it to friends!