King~ Ch 9
Amice lay in bed, staring at the fabric of the canopy above her. Her thoughts ran wild; dreams of freedom and adventure, all a fairytale. The room was cast entirely in darkness save a small candle on her bedside, casting haunting shadows that danced around the room.
She knew it was later than midnight, yet sleep did not find her. She had tossed and turned for hours, all in vain, opting instead to watch the glow of the flickering light. She watched as a droplet of wax trickled down the candles length, joining onto the pool of melted wax that rested in the metal tray.
She had a sudden urge to reach out and touch it, an urge to feel the soft sting of the heat on her fingers, but as she did so, she heard her bedroom door slide open then shut again.
From the corner of her eye, she spied the cloak she had given Henry to wear, and smiled to herself. He still wore the damned thing, creeping around in it like a wall between him and his responsibilities.
Grin still plastered to her face, she rolled over to meet his eyes....
Yet instead, she came face to face with the hooded figure producing a crossbow from beneath the heavy fabric. It was already loaded, and the man did not pause as he lined the weapon up with the the centre of Amice's chest.
She rapidly sprang to one side, raising a heavy pillow before her protectively. There was a sharp whizz that echoed around the room as the bow was fired. The arrow pierced the pillow with a muffled thud, embedding into the headboard of the bed. Although the pillow had obscured her figure, the arrow still clipped her shoulder in passing, and she cried out, before ignoring the bloody sting and leaping into action.
She tossed the pillow with all of her might at the figure, before springing from the bed.
The man instantly reacted to her movements, dropping the crossbow and producing a heavily jewelled dagger from his belt. He approached, the weapon raised.
Amice seemed defenceless, but she had learned to adapt, to use the things around her. As the man neared, she reached for the candle tray and launched it into his face, the hot wax streaming into his eyes, the metal clang against his skull disorientating him.
She didn't pause, grasping at the heavy duvet sheets, she flung them over his head, entangling him momentarily.
Grunting, he flailed below the mass, blinded and confused. Finally, he emerged from the mess and stood in a ready stance once more, only to be met with an arrow pointed right between his eyes.
"Drop the dagger." Commanded Amice from the other side of the room, bow at the ready.
The man looked between his weapon and hers. He stupidly liked his chances. Dashing forward, he jumped over the pile of fabric on the floor and launched himself at her.
But Amice was much, much quicker. She released her signature red arrow and it embedded into the mans shoulder, both ends now a matching shade of crimson.
The man cried out in agony, grasping at his wound, but not stopping his approach.
Another arrow was released, this one whizzing through the air, before impaling the mans hand, then into his shoulder.
The two arrows erected side by side, one threaded through his hand like yarn through a needle, finally slowed his attack. He looked between the thrice reloaded bow and his small dagger, defeated.
He dropped to his knees, his body trembling form pain and shock.
"Who sent you?!" Yelled Amice, her bow still raised, blood seeping from her own wound. Yet she did not falter.
"You are a stupid little girl. You know nothing." The man simply replied.
"Yet I know how to defeat you."
"I am merely a messenger. Soon, you shall face the devil himself."
"Give him my regards." She hissed, tightening her grip on her arrow, before releasing it into the mans thigh.
He screamed out, a crazed, wild cry.
"WHO SENT YOU!?" She demanded, drawing back another arrow.
The man did not give reply. He simply stared at the girl before him, his features maddened, pupils wide with adrenaline. In that moment, he looked more like a beast than a man.
And his actions soon came to match. For he stuck his tongue out at her, almost playfully, before clamping his jaw down and biting straight through it- a promise of infinite silence.
And then he laughed. But it was not a human laugh. It was an eerie chuckle, gargling bloody obscuring the sound.
It echoed around the room, haunting. It was the sound of death as it came knocking, a sound so cold that it brought a chill to Amice's spine. She had seen a lot. But this was too much.
Her shot was straight and true as she released the arrow into the mans heart, silencing him forever, yet his expression remained, frozen, insanity even in death.
~
Three heavy thuds resonated around Henry's chamber, causing him to groan awake.
"What!" He yelled through the door, not happy to have been awoken at such an absurd hour.
Three more knocks.
"Enter!" He growled, infuriated.
A squire boy entered the kings chambers, looking down at his feet.
"My apologies your grace for disturbing you, but it was insisted of me." He spoke quickly, almost jumbling his words.
"Then speak for heavens sake!"
"It's Lady Amice. There was an attempt on her life."
He was out of bed in a second, rushing down the caste halls, ignoring the shouts of the boy behind him. His feet were bare and cold against the stone, his heart thudding in his chest.
Don't let her be hurt.
~
Her chamber door was ajar when he got there, and knights lined the hallway upon approach. He did not stop, nor did he nod. He simply brushed past them and into the room.
And what a sight he was met with.
On the usually delicate stonework floor there lay a body. The corpse had arrows puncturing it, all fired with great accuracy and intent. The floor around the body was pooled with scarlet, the droplets leaking across the gaps in the tile. A clump of muscle lay beside the man, who's face was awfully contorted, menacing.
His gaze shot up, witnessing a few ladies picking up a basket of bandages and water dishes- items used to treat injury. He was no fool. Amice did not let the castle ladies anywhere near her, she was insistent upon independence. That only meant one thing. His prayers had not been answered. She was hurt.
"Where is she?!?" He hollered, desperation overpowering the commanding.
~
Little did he know, there was nothing she needed more in that moment, than him.
YOU ARE READING
The King ~ Timothée Chalamet
Fanfiction"A crown is a great weight to bear. But even greater is the weight of a crown at war." ~ "You are not like other women I have met Amice." He speaks honestly. ~ Every king has his subjects, his council, his advisors... his queen. ~ Based on the film...
