King ~ Ch 23
Henry struck first, his axe coming down with a powerful ferocity as he collided with the storm of men. He was met with instant retaliation, swords pointed towards him, unrecognisable eyes, beasts behind steel helmets.
He engaged one particularly large man, his axe moving swiftly, almost elegantly, a striking contract to the crimson that it quickly become painted in.
The noise was ghastly, the deathly rattle of metal stuck with steel, the screams of agony, the sound of muscle being torn and slashed as men fell from their pedestals.
Suddenly, a sharp chime broke apart the sea of chaos, and Henry turned, facing a man mounted upon a great steed. He was high above the flurry, his colossal form enveloping the boy king in a bloodthirsty shadow. Henry recalled a time when he was the one above the crowd, watching his spoke from below. He recalled the man who had tried to kill him in the streets, and the fateful arrow that had saved him.
And so history was repeated.
A whistle echoed past him as feathers of red found themselves embedded into the mans throat, a horrible gargling sound erupting in the place of screams.
Henry spared a glance over his shoulder, his eyes catching the girl as she reloaded her bow, sending him a sharp nod before continuing her attack.
Arrow after arrow hit their mark, the sea of red now dazzled by a varying hue. Men toppled from their steeds, their corpses joining the growing mountains on the ground below with a ghostly thud.
Amice followed the movements of several men, watching as they engaged a pack of riders. Her motions were swift, tugging arrows from their homely quiver, loading them into thread that would soon send them as guides to the afterlife.
She watched the battle as evenly as she could, hovering on the outskirts. Using her bow whilst she was still able. But still, she couldn't help but keep tabs on Henry as he was swallowed by the mass, before reappearing in a bundle of sweat and trauma.
And it was this constant worry that lead to her eyes following three men as they approached the king of England from behind. She wanted to call out to him, but she knew her voice would be strangled and drowned by the song of battle.
One arrow soared, and one man crumbled to the ground, the others sparing nothing but a glance at their fallen comrade.
Amice's hand hurried to grasp at another, but flailed in the empty air as her empty quiver held no more bounty.
Still, Henry did not turn, preoccupied by the target before him.
A reflection loomed in his armour plate, unseen by him, a ghost, a demon. The men were so close that one could be made out their featured in the dented metal of the kings armour. They raised their swords, ready to strike down the flagship, ready to crush an army.
But their steel met nothing but retaliation. A sharp zing ravished their ears as Amice held up her sword and dagger, blocking their strikes.
The men exchanged a look of bewilderment, stunned at the image of a girl in the midst of the battle. But their pause was short lived.
They quickly engaged, one man bringing his sword down in heavy strokes, both hands grasping the handle, the weight of the weapon in combination with gravity. The other was fast, he jabbed and weaved and observed: a trained swordsman.
Amice met every blow with her weapons, twisting her small frame away from the talons that promised to tear muscle from bone, life from body. Her shoulders felt the strain as the large man continued to force her back, his powerful blows knocking her deeper into the mud that already grasped at her ankles. All she could do was block one attack after the other, unable to free her weapons to strike.
The smaller man struck for her side, and she managed to surge his blade away, but not before it clipped her thigh, a large gash finding home upon her delicate skin. Still, she did not scream nor cry out. She simply grit her teeth, but took in the mans moment of weakness, blinded by such a small victory, thrusting her dagger around the mans defences and into his chest. He gasped for air like a flailing animal, before tumbling away as Amice freed her blade.
The larger man continued his approach, swiping at her, attempting to overpower the small girl. Their swords exchanged clangs as they battled for dominance, before he raised his weapon high above his head. But he was a fool. He raised both hands, exposing his entire midsection to Amice and her swift motions. So she lunged, dagger and sword trained to meet their target.
Yet fate had other plans. Her boot was grasped by a dying hand, the smaller mans eyes burning into her as blood spilled from his lips. She tumbled forward, catching herself on her knees as the sword above her distorted the suns rays. She squinted, watching the shadow of the steel near.
Her arms raised, crossing her blades so as to block the blow. The screech of metal was deafening as she conducted all of her strength, holding off the large blade, just inches from her delicate face. The metal told tales of many a battle, chipped and warn, scuffed and battered. Amice wondered how many souls were trapped within its shards.
A newfound ferocity found the man above her, enraged to be bested by the strength of a woman. He let out a roar, directing all of his strength to his sword, the blade slowly edging further towards the fallen girl below him. Amice moved her face away from the nose of the weapon, shifting slightly as death neared.
She couldn't hold in the scream that tore from her throat as the blade found her shoulder, slowly butchering her, hacking away at her flesh.
All of a sudden, it was gone. Their air above her hung clear as the monster fell away, defeated. Amice's gaze shot up to meet her rescuer. Henry's chest heaved as he stepped towards his love, tugging her up from the ground with a firm hand. She stood, giving no sign of her injuries, focused on protecting the last shards of Henry's sanity as the battle roared behind them.
Their gazes bore into each other as they nodded. The action was small, but it spoke all that words could not say. And then they plunged in, their weapons a joint force against those who would dare tear them apart.
But it is infact love that has always been mans greatest downfall.
A/N
*Hey everyone! I greatly apologise for my slow updates and the short chapter today, I have exams at school so have been cramming revision bc I am not organised at all :)
Updates will come again every 2-3 days as of Monday. Thanks for sticking with me and I hope you continue to enjoy the story. All of your support is incredible! I'm so grateful! THANK YOU!!!
Anyway, back to my flashcards I go. Thanks again for reading xx
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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...
