The King ~ Timothée Chalamet

Kill him

King~ Ch 18

Henry's strides were brisk and sure as he marched back to his tent. The prince of France had taunted him and the mockery had ignited a dark anger within him. He knew it was irrational, yet he felt disgraced as he flung open the flap, rubbing his hands down his face.

"You look rough." A voice squeaked from the far side of the royal shelter.

Henry's glance shot over, observing as the small girl sat on the edge of her cot, gripping the sides, a weak smile plastered to her face.

"You have looked better." He barely managed to choke out the joke as he stared at her, his previous anger abandoned.

Shakily, she stood from the cot, before straightening out fully and standing firmly before her king.

"Your gr-" she couldn't finish as the air was pressed from her lungs as Henry wound his arms around her middle, tugging her into a protective embrace.

She smiled into his chest, the comfort she had been craving finally enveloped her.

"I have missed you dearly." He said into her hair as he pulled her impossibly closer.

"And I you." She muttered, before releasing him to step back and look at his face.

His features were worn, as if a thousand lifetimes had danced across his eyes, an aura of wisdom radiating off of him.

"What happened to you?" He could not longer withhold the question as it sprung from his lips, his mind desperately seeking sanctuary from his haunting thoughts.

They both moved back slightly to look at each other.

Amice took a breath, feeling her muscles as they protested, yet it was a refreshing feeling in comparison to the previous pain that mobility caused.

"I arrived in France four nights ago. I bribed passage on a fishers trading boat. A local man sold me a horse and from there I followed any sign of your whereabouts. After days of riding, I became tired and hunger stalked me, so I took refuge at a small inn. In the night, an awful fire started, killing the innkeep. She was an aged woman, too kind for this world. I took a horse from the shed and rode on, until I reached the camp. Perhaps I was more tired than I had anticipated. I am sorry to have worried you." She spoke, the tale not satisfying Henry as he caught glimpse of the bruises upon her neck.

"You arrived at the camp covered in blood." He stated, wanting her to tell him of her own accord.

"The innkeep has some trouble with thieves. They came for my sword. They did not leave." She explained as vaguely as she could, unknowing of Henry's true intent.

"And you weren't hurt?" He pressed.

"No." She was stern, but a chill passed down her spine at her words. Physically, she bore no scars, yet her mind was withered.

"Excuse me my king, but I'd like to have a bath." She abruptly put an end to the conversation, stepping away from him and moving to get past him to exit the tent.

"You're lying." He stated as she was shoulder to shoulder with him. Frozen on the spot, her breathing hitched as neither party turned to face one another.

"You aren't telling me everything about what happened that night." He stated again.

"How can you be sure? You were not there. So I guess you will never know." She hissed as her lip curled up, her defensive instincts at play. And resumed her beeline for the exit once more, but was stopped as a hand curled around her arm, pulling her back.

The memory came tumbling back like a pound to the chest as she turned, sharply raising her hand and striking Henry across the face.

They both stilled, stunned by her action. Henry felt himself about to erupt, but when he looked up at Amice, he saw only fear on her face. Her eyes were damp with unshed tears and her mouth was slightly agar.