The King ~ Timothée Chalamet

Powerful sight

King~ Ch 14

Cries echoed around the docks as men crowded the wooden walkways. Then gentle ocean waves drifted beneath the ships, making them dance and sway to nature's song. Men tussled with burly ropes, hoisting barrels and crates onto the vessels, both supplies and weapons.

Trebuchets were secured with chains and sails were checked a dozen times over. The rattling of armour could be heard over the creaking wood of the ships, wailing under the pressure.

Hundreds of seafaring transports were aligned along the coastline and out into the bay, their shadows turning the usually blue water a dull hue, a shade of cold and drowning.

Amice oversaw the final preparations as some men boarded, many thanking her for her lessons as they passed. She smiled and wished them luck in return, throwing tips at them as they went.

Once the ships had reached capacity, they were cut free from the dock and set adrift to meet the others that floated offshore, awaiting the flagship.

Amice clasped her hand behind her back, squinting away from the rays of piercing sunlight as they littered her face. The salty breeze that sprang from the sea caressed her skin, and she relished in the feel of its purity. Sounds of waves knocking upon the shore weaved around her, begging her to give in to the sense of clam and serenity that they intended to bring. But she could not break away from the tension that grasped at her shoulders, and so contentment fled from her reach as she felt the blaze of fear in her veins.

Only when she heard footsteps approach her from behind did she break her trance. Her stance stiffened further, for she knew what was on the cards for this moment.

"A powerful sight, isn't it?" He spoke gently, coming to a stop beside her, mimicking her position.

"It will stay with me until the day I die." She confessed. But she did not want to speak the reality of her thoughts. That yes, a sight like this would remain in the albums of her mind for an eternity, but the sight of a man with a sword through his heart would haunt her more. She prayed she would never see the boy beside her in such a position.

"So many leave, I hope that many will return." She muttered when silence fell upon them.

"I pray for that also." The sound was small and sincere.

"As do I." She confessed, and finally, he turned to look at her. He wished he hadn't. Her face was pale and he didn't think he had ever seen her look so small. Although she stood strong, an aura of hopelessness hung around her, and he could sense her tension.

"I didn't think you cared for the gods?"

"I do not. But I pray that they care for you." Her voice almost broke from the desperation that resounded in it.

"I suppose we shall see."

Finally, she turned to him. In his eyes she saw something she never had. A conflict, it seemed that lust and duty fought within his green orbs, and she didn't realise what she was doing until her hand was upon his cheek. His eyes drifted closed as he leant into her palm.

"Be safe, my king." She whispered, pulling her hand away.

"You have taught my men well, I fully believe we will be victorious."

"Even so, it will come at a great cost. War always does." She frowned, an expression that rarely adorned her delicate features.

"So long as you are far from it." He said, so lowly that she wasn't sure she heard it.

Heavy footsteps approached them, the rest of the kings guard.

"Luck, your grace." She said, bowing before him, being sure to follow custom before her men.

"Thank you, My lady." He said as the men passed and boarded the ship.

"Keep my kingdom safe for me until I return." He muttered, before turning and striding away from their exchange.

And so, in the early hours of the morning, the King of England boarded the adorned vessel, soon to lead his people onwards to war.

He did not look back as his ship was cast forward, not wanting to see her beautiful face full of worry. He did not want to remember her that way. And she was glad for it, as when the ship departed, a stray tear wandered down her cheek.

She watched as the white sails were released from their nests, catching the breeze, pushing the ships forward onto the blackening sea.

She watched as the waves carried them onward, away to an unknown fate.

She watched as they disappeared from sight, now nothing but a memory, lost to the vast sea.

Only when the sun began to fall below the line of the horizon did she leave the shore, her hand clutching the hilt of her sword, wondering if she had made a grave mistake.