Moon Drunk: Origins

Daybreak Charge

Felicite does not sleep, only paces the damp cellar of their sanctuary, filled with worry and a sense of foreboding. She pauses occasionally to check on Fionn, and then on Dulce and on Richard, only to resume her pacing of the floor, pushing a chest over to the window and climbing up to see outside. Her hand rests on her belly; she can feel the child inside of her kicking. 

"You must not worry," she tells the child in her womb. "Your father is going to make our kingdom safe for you and your brother. And your Uncle Killian and your godfather Gabriel will help him. All you must do now is to grow strong for them."

But her words of encouragement to her child do little to calm her own fears. 

She is tired of sanctuary. The only word she receives comes from Gabriel, or once, when Julien's squire delivered a message to her, but even that was disheartening, for it was an escape plan.

It is not yet daybreak, but the Fleming line is prepared.  He feels confident, surrounded by men he loves and trusts with his life. If he dies beside these men today, if the Ancestors will it, then it will be a good death. 

If he wishes to remain king of the Three Kingdoms, then he must stand and fight. 

"Take the horses to the back," Julien commands his page. "Keep them at the ready."

"Ready for what?" the boy asks fearfully.

"For a charge, if it goes well," Julien replies. "For retreat if it does not."

The page takes Julien's horse and the horses of the other nobles and leads them away from the line, and Julien turns to Killian. 

"There is something strange in the air."

"I know," Killian replies. "But if we are to have the advantage, we must move now."

Julien nods, wielding his sword. "My commanders are ready. Killian, I am not yet ready to part from my life. And I should like to see my new prince in the cradle. I want you to take a company of men into the woods there -" he gestures to the far right - "and I want you to watch. Make sure there is no surprise attack, and...Ancestors help us, if we are losing...make a charge."

Killian shakes his head. "I will fight beside you."

 "I've given my order. Go, now."

Julien watches as his brother commands one hundred men - such a small number to rely on if things go poorly - and they begin to disappear into the heavily wooded area, hidden from view.

And the king leads the charge up the hill and toward the sleeping enemy. 

Julien can smell blood. He can taste it. He struggles against the urge to shift, and he can see the men around him struggling as well. 

Lord Standishe's company of archers loose their arrows, resulting in screams of agony and utter chaos as men are dashing frantically about to prepare for a battle that is already upon them. Julien gives the order for the cannon, and with a deafening boom, a cannonball tearing through the enemy camp. 

But the enemy regroups, and more quickly than Julien expects; the advantage of surprise has worn off, and now they are charging, down the hill, clashing against Julien's men, swords and great battle-axes swinging wildly. 

He is losing, he knows it. He feels a new sensation, one he has never felt before - it is fear. When he fled before, when he mustered this army, he did not feel fear. He felt white-hot rage burning through his veins, setting his blood to boiling, but he did not feel fear.