King~ Ch 21
Amice watched from her perch on her cot as Henry equipped his armour, attaching his sword to his side. Her eyes traced to her own attire, her breastplate, the leather beneath it, protecting her delicate skin from the rough work of the blacksmith.
Her hair was braided in three small plaits either side of her face, holding it away from her eyes, the rest falling down her back in gentle waves.
Her sword was fixed at her side, dagger also in position on her tailbone. Beside her on the cot lay her bow and quiver full with her signature red arrows.
Amice let out a small chuckle as Henry attempted to buckle one of the sides of the breastplate. Standing from her nest, she walked over to him, placing her hand softly atop of his as he watched her methodically work the buckle into place. His eyes followed her as she moved behind him, where he could see her no longer, and adjusted the armour so it sat comfortably upon his back.
Henry let out a hum of approval as Amice leant up onto her tiptoes and lightly kissed his neck.
"Are you afraid?" He asked quietly as he felt her hands graze over the chain metal on his body.
"I do not fear death." She muttered back. He kept quiet, waiting for her to continue.
"Death is just nothing. One moment you are here, the next you are not. Even if there is something beyond it, there is no certainty of that, so why should we worry ourselves with the notion? There is nothing to fear from death apart from the realisation that our lives are pitifully worthless. That men rise and fall, build and destroy. But our marks are only temporary. Nothing truly withstands the test of time. Nothing is ever certain, and nothing is forever. Nothing except death. Life is the blissful lie. Death is the agonising truth."
There was a pause as she removed her hands from him, both individuals processing through ya of their own.
"I did not ask if you feared death, I asked if you were afraid." Henry spoke softly, turning to face her as her eyes traced the scuffs on his breastplate.
"I fear dying. I fear knowing that there is nowhere to run. I fear the feeling of my body trying to fight the inevitable, memories and regrets haunting my last moments. When it happens, I pray it be quick. But most of all, I pray that even in my death, you have life. I fear few things, but most of all Henry, I fear losing you." She finally flashed her eyes to meet his.
"I will be beside you always." He vowed, taking both of her hands into his. He didn't want to confess that the sight before him terrified him. Amice, dressed in armour, weapon at her side. It was something he'd prayed he would never see.
"See. There it is. The blissful lie. Men are not capsules of rain, nor are they fragments of snow, nor the golden leaves of Autumn. They do not look beautiful when they fall." She smiled weakly at him.
"Then I suppose we best make sure that we are the ones left standing." He let out a sad laugh and she joined him.
They looked at one another with such devotion, a love to conquer all.
Finally, he captured her face in his hands, pulling her in to press his lips against hers. The kiss erupted with passion, fear and love mingling as one. Fear of loss, fear of love, fear of dying. But also hope, adoration, and a willingness to never be parted from one another, ever.
~
Amice exited the tent beside Henry, and they made their way over to their horses. As they passed the troops, Amice spied a gathering of men around the side of one of the tents. She broke away from her course, too curious to steer away from investigation. She shoved past the surrounding men, many moving to allow her passage.
For beside the tent, huddled on the ground was a young boy. He was armoured like the rest of the men, but he didn't not bear it well. He shook, a vicious rattle in the metal casing.
"What's wrong with him?" Asked Henry who now stood just behind Amice, never letting her far from his person.
"He is in shock your grace. Afraid." Replied a gruff voice. Amice didn't pay it any attention. It was clear that the boy was terrified, and she spared a glance to Henry who seemed lost on what to do.
She knew sympathy would not save the boy. The only chance he had was if he faced reality. He was no longer a child, cowering behind the legs of his mother, he was a solider, he was at war. And war was cruel. The sooner he realised that, the more chance he had of surviving it.
Amice marched up to the boy, grabbing him by the scruff of his breastplate, yanking him to stand. When he was finally on two feet, he was barely taller than the petite girl: testament of his youth.
"Get up. Look at me. Do you think that when those French men see you they are going to stop their charge? That they are going to have pity on you, even if you beg for it? They will kill you all the same. Don't give them the chance. Don't give them the satisfaction. Be the stronger man." She spoke, gripping the boys shoulders and shaking him out of his entranced state. He looked to his commander, then to his king, then back to Amice.
"But I am not a man." He croaked out.
"Neither am I." Amice smiled softly at the boy before her and he managed a weak one in return.
He was far too young for this, anyone could see it. But there was nothing more Amice could do except clap the boy on the arm as he looked to her.
"So stand strong boy, the world shall not take notice of your tears, so why waste them?"
At that, the boy met her eyes and nodded, a new found ferocity brewing in his chest. Amice nodded in return, a common ground found between the two individuals. Henry smiled from beside them, in awe of the girls wisdom. No, in awe of his girls wisdom. For she was his and he was hers. Always.
~
Amice watched as Henry mounted his steed, it's coat as black as the death that it's rider was damned to bring. The beast adorned chain metal too, a striking similarity to Henry's own armour.
Amice huffed as she leapt upon her own horse, white as the purity she hoped to find in victory.
She did not know how the French prince would react to Henry's proposal. She wondered if perhaps it would be wiser for her to volunteer to the duel, to take the bastard by surprise; after all, he would not expect to so shamefully lose to a woman.
The two riders glanced to one another as they got comfortable atop of their steeds, but Amice worried as Henry's gaze shifted to the stable hands that seemed to surround her.
And suddenly he was gone, beckoning his horse forward into the open field, the thuds disrupting the lounging grass.
She raised the reins of her own steed, ready to pursue him, but the stable hands quickly seized the leather straps, pulling, securing the beast in place. Amice's head whipped around as suddenly she was grasped by the arm and tugged from her horse, her fall broken as she was caught by several men and brought to stand.
Her horse was drawn away from her as she slammed against the hands holding her back, finally able to free herself, only to see Henry's silhouette mould into the horizon.
Her fists coiled at her sides as she grit her teeth, a snarl tearing from her throat as she marched away from the scene, betrayal seeded in her chest.
If he got back- no- when he got back, she would be sure to indulge him in horrors that would put his war to shame.
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...
