D' Arc || The King

Chapter VIII

Henry sat straight up, panting as a cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. He looked around, wondering for a moment where he was as the constants screams of dead men faded in his ears. Then it all came flooding back and he let out a breath of relief. Henry looked to his side and found Isabel's back facing him, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

Isabel shifted and sat up. "What's wrong?" She asked in a quiet voice, barely able to make out Henry's frame and she reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just a dream," he said and she shook her head in the dark. "I had a nightmare too," she murmured, shivering in the cool air. "A girl burning on the stake-"

He noticed that Isabel stopped short like someone had forced the words down her throat and back inside of her. "Isabel," Henry started, but she cut him off saying, "I shouldn't be bothering you with my dreams," she said, chuckling softly. He shifted and looked at her as her hand slipped off of him. "It might seem trivial, but sometimes talking about nonsense reminds me that I'm not above being a regular man."

"But you aren't," Isabel said. "You're a king with royal blood that can be traced back to the time Wessex and Mercia. Your blood is power itself."

Henry chuckled and she made a confused face and he said, "That's true, but I'm not a god. What have I done to earn this crown? My father stole it from the Yorks and before that, there was Empress Maud and King Stephan who almost killed each other for what I have. It shouldn't even be mine."

Isabel took his hands on hers. "God gave you this. You are the first boy of your line, it is yours by right, your God-given right," she insisted. "Yes, you are a man and you still can be normal in a way, but you are not just a 'regular' man. This is blunt, but you can never be a regular man, Henry. You can only surround yourself with people you can trust and who will be honest to you."

"And what about you, Isabel?" He asked and she blinked. "What do you mean?" She asked as his thumb ran across the back of her hand.

"Can I trust you? Will you always be loyal to me?" Henry questioned and Isabel resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably. "Hal, we've only known each other for less than two months. I want to say that you can trust me, but I can't trust myself with your secrets."

She swore she saw Henry deflate slightly and Isabel squeezed his hands comfortingly. "Perhaps in time, you and I will be able to trust each other in the future, but for now I think we shouldn't cross that bridge yet."

They sat in silence for a moment before Isabel gently slipped her hands from his. The movement sent a shiver up her spine and she realized just how cold it was. "You're cold," Henry realized and Isabel shook her head. "I'm fine," she insisted despite the fact that it suddenly felt like her nose was made from ice.

"Here," he held up the rest of the blanket, but she pushed it back towards him. "You need it more if you're going to lead an army," she said and he sighed. "Isabel, don't be stubborn. You need the blanket."

"I am not being stubborn!" She hissed in a low voice before realizing what she had just said and flopping backward and rolling over. "Go to sleep, Hal," she almost commanded and he rolled his eyes in the dark before lying down next to her.

Isabel scrunched up her face, trying to get some feeling back into it, but found that it was impossible. She wanted to toss and turn but reminded herself that she'd be making too much noise and would just prove Henry right. Gritting her teeth Isabel tightened her hands into fists as the uncomfortable cold just grew worse. Finally, Isabel forced herself to relax and she relented, rolling over slightly to face the back of Henry.

She placed a hand hesitantly on his arm, her fingers closing gently around the fabric of his shirt sleeve. It was something she had done to her brother too when she was scared or felt lonely. Jacques had always been there for her and now, she realized, Henry was the same. Isabel shut her eyes tightly as she felt herself yearning for her home in Orleans. Henry flipped over, his eyes closed as he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in a soft warmth. Isabel's trembling slowly came to a halt and despite himself, Henry smiled.