Chivalry ♛ King Arthur

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"BRUENOR." Back Lack turned, surprised to hear something other than his street name. It must've been years since he heard it. Before his wife died in the Great Spring Fever three years ago.

Frida stood in the carved entrance of the room, her hands clasped at the ties on her apron. Unshed tears had gathered in her eyes. "Did you see Edwyn?"

Back Lack nodded, gaze flitting downward. "He slipped through the back door 'fore they-" he stopped, not knowing how best to tell her that her life in Londinium had been demolished "-before they torched the bakery."

Her jaw clenched and the tears slipped down her cheeks. A dam had just broken. Not only was the bakery gone, but the small apartment that had been above it. All her trinkets and valuables, the books and hand-sewn dresses, everything would be ash.

"They were looking for you. Don't know why, but they were askin' about a baker's assistant." Ida's blood ran cold. Fear seized her chest and would not let go. It began with a tingle of warmth starting at her wrists and flowed down into her hands. It was like she had woken from a nightmare. She needed to leave.

Frida ran. She ran straight into to Arthur and fell before his feet, sobbing, hands glowing with the light. Surprised and frightened, he knelt next to her and gripped onto both of her trembling hands. At his touch, the glow faded, receding from her fingertips into her palms. "They know," she cried.

Art dropped her hands and cradled her face, his thumbs wiping away the tears. "Ida-" her eyes were still squeezed shut, her breathing ragged "-Ida, darlin', look at me." She did. His cornflower eyes were hard as stone. "If anyone hurts you, I'll kill them."

♛ ♛ ♛

The cool, shallow water of the stream flowed over her bare feet. She needed time for herself and found it just outside the encampment. Birds tweeted their songs and the scent of nearby lemon balm was in the morning air.

She'd give just about anything to be back at the bakery. Elbow deep in flour, tending the stone oven, glazing sweet buns with a sticky icing. Not knowing if Edwyn was safe was gnawing away at her. Ashes could be swept away, the bakery rebuilt, but life was not so generous.

Frida hadn't heard her sister approach until she next to her on the grassy bank. The Mage wrapped her arms around her legs and looked out over the hills in the distance. "I should not have pushed you," Eydís confessed, eyes downcast in shame. It had been wrong of her to assume that the Darklands held the secret to Arcane powers.

Eydís rose from the stream bank. "The Darklands is where I trained," she explained, pacing in a circle. Merlin had mentored her there for weeks, battling and mastering bird and beast until she could control them all. It had been the venom of a giant snake and granted her control. The scar remained on her covered wrist. "Perhaps that is not to be the place of your reckoning."

Having seen what older her sister had done made Frida want to train. She wanted to grow better in her craft, but there was no one to teach her. With her palms facing up, she closed her eyes, ringed with dark circles and smudged soot from the oven, and focused the spark within it. A light did not come this time. Only a handful of measly sparks formed at her fingertips.

The Mage laid her hands over her sister's. "I do not know if I can help you become an Arcanist, but I will try." Eydís knew that when her full potential was unleashed she would be far more powerful than her. Perhaps even stronger than Merlin, himself.

"At this point," Frida started with a lame chuckle, "I think just about anything would help."

♛ ♛ ♛

After remaining silent throughout the duration of the meeting Arthur and Bedivere had announced, Frida couldn't take it any longer. When all but a handful of the rebels cleared from the table, she hauled Arthur into one of the side rooms of the cave and thumped him upside the head. "Did you get knocked on the head when you were on that island?" Frida demanded, on the verge of anger.

Caught off-guard by her outburst, Art shrugged. "A few times." If they hadn't just been discussing regicide, maybe she would have laughed at his sardonic response.

Burning down one of Vortigern's palaces, interrupting his flux of slaves, and sinking his stone barges was one thing. Planning to assassinate the King in broad daylight was another.

Ida sighed. "You really think you're going to be able to kill Vortigern?" The King was nigh untouchable. He had a suite of guards surrounding him and besides that, he was a powerful sorcerer. A formidable enemy.

"With the right plan? Yeah." But a rooftop assassination in Londinium didn't sound like the right plan. Too many things could go wrong. One slip and they would be trapped in the city.

Frida didn't doubt Goosefat Bill's aim. She doubted the ability of a single arrow to bring down the King. "He slaughtered the most powerful Mages and Arcanists," her voice broke as she thought of her mother.

Arthur gripped her shoulders. There was something even more beautiful about her when she was irate -it was the flush on her cheeks and the spark in her eyes. The people of Londinium loved her. Arthur loved her.

"He didn't kill all of them, though." She shook her head. An untrained Arcanist could be just as dangerous as one that had gone bad. She couldn't control it. She wouldn't be of use in this scheme. "Art," Frida chided.

"He killed my parents." That was the dream that haunted him and though he had repressed parts of it, the sword showed him the truth. "He killed your mother and drove you and your sister apart."

England needed a better king, not a despot bent on acquiring a sword he'd never be able to wield. Frida knew that, but she hated the life that had been thrust upon her since the brothel was raided.

"I wish none of this had happened," Frida remarked, hugging herself as she took a step back. She wanted to be back in her bakery with Edwyn. She wanted Arthur to just be her street-rat that would bug her at odd hours of the day. "I wish we could go back." It was a childish wish.

"There is no going back," he told her softly, taking her into his arms.

"I know," she muttered into his chest, "and that's what scares me." Arthur's arms tightened around her; his cheek pressed into her dark hair. Frida closed her eyes, hand loosely fisted in his coarse tunic, unwilling to let go of the moment.

  ♛ ♛ ♛  

"You must will the water to become the thing," Eydís reiterated, "convince it."

Frida's shoulders dropped. The pewter goblet of water had not yielded to her commands. She had tried what seemed to be simpler transitions: water to wine, water to air, water to sand. There was nothing to show for all her efforts. The water didn't want to change, it was content remaining as water.

"It will take time," the Mage said in return, taking a seat across from her sister at the table. Merlin had told her stories of the greatest Arcanists and claimed that even he could not compare to their power.

It was said that Camelot had been lifted from the river and molded into a castle by three Arcanists in a single night. "They say the greatest Arcanists could lift entire cities from the water, turn dust into grain, and turn the air into diamonds."

A berating laugh slipped from Frida's dry lips. She picked up the goblet, taking a long drink of the tepid water. "And I cannot accomplish even the simplest things."

"Like I said," Eydís restated, "it will take time."

But time was something that they did not have enough of.