A/N: Disclaimer! This story is not historically accurate!I know Mary De Bohun died (and so does some characters in the story) when Hal is a teenager but for the purposes of this story, I have kept her alive.

The newly crowned king sighed as he gently caresses the withered cheeks of his mother. Mary de Bohun had collapsed unknowingly before the coronation. She had not been able to lift herself from her bed ever since. Heaving, she gently wrapped her wispy fingers around her son's.

"You must be willing to let me go," she whispered.

"No. I'll find this enchanted spring. I'll make you well once more."

Mary smiled wistfully and gently clenched her son's hands. "Then you must promise that you will come back to me safely."

"I promise mother."

Studying the map that was given to him, Henry quietly took note of the landmarks that they have to pass before reaching the edge of the kingdom. The enchanted spring will be there. Rumours had it that gypsies guard the spring, not allowing anyone close to it. Well, he thought, gypsies or not, I am going to go against you.

As the king swung his armoured leg over his steed, he looked to the right and addressed his men.

"Today we embark on a journey. Not of war, but of love. This enchanted spring will be the saviour of my mother and I will not allow myself and any of you to fail."

The king's men bowed their heads, acknowledging their king's command.

And with that, Henry steered his horse and charged forward.

The journey to the edge of the kingdom was an arduous one. Not only did they encounter wild beasts, the journey was taking too long. Again and again they made a wrong turn.

I refuse to this forest be the death of me, thought Henry.

Unknowing to the king and his men, a group of dark ones had been observing them from the treetops. Sensing the king's exasperation, the leader, signalled to the others.

"AAARRRGHH!" The dark ones bellowed as they jump from the menacing trees unto the knights.

The clashing sounds of the swords against armour was thunderous, with the horses caught off-guard, they neighed and stomped their hooves. One by one the king's soldiers were slain by the dark ones.

Snapping her head up, a raven-haired maiden was sure she heard battle cries. Dropping her basket full of midnight mushrooms, she reached for her bow and arrow. The clanging of formidable metal grew louder as she quickened her pace.

That flag, she thought. The flag of the king!

The maiden rushed forward and hurriedly placed an arrow to her bow. She took aim and released. Bull's eye! Surprised by the sudden attack, the dark ones fumbled. Without much thinking Henry wielded his sword and slayed one of them. Another arrow hit the dark one.

As the pace of the arrows quickened, Henry and several of his men that was left took advantage.

When the final dark one was slain, overwhelming silence engulfed Henry. He could only hear the thumping of his own heart and his own heaving. Still brandishing his sword, he wielded it once more – only to look directly into a maiden with a bow.

Taken aback by the maiden, Henry found himself crumpling to the floor, feeling the shooting pain in his abdomen. He had been struck there and did not notice due to the adrenaline rush. His sword had cluttered to the ground. He fought against the pain but it was too unbearable.

"I only come in peace!" The maiden cried. She carefully put her bow and arrows on the ground and held her hands up. She took a glance at the exhausted men and the injured king.

"My village is due northeast. We will nurse all of you. You have my word."

The maiden gently washed the blood soaked cloth, before wringing it. She placed a clean cloth, laden with medicine onto the king's wound.

She studied Henry's face. She had never seen the king or any royal subjects for that matter. He lay there, unconscious and innocent. He was handsome, with sharp cheekbones, a slim nose and lips that were neither too thin nor luscious. She gently touched the wound to examine it and she could not help noticing the king's taut muscles. Waving any inappropriate thoughts, she pressed the medicine laden cloth.

With a sharp, audible cringe, Henry's hand shot straight up and grabbed her hand.

"I meant you no harm my lord."

Henry focused on the woman sitting beside him in this dimly lit room. Her hair was definitely as dark as night, but her eyes! They were definitely of deep sapphire blue. The soft dancing flames from the candles made her fair skin look luminous.

"Who are you?" Henry croaked.

"My lord, you're hurt." The maiden spoke.

"I can tell by the searing discomfort," Henry remarked sarcastically, his eyes never left hers.

Immediately realising she was causing him pain, the maiden lifted her hands from the king's abdomen. Henry softened as fear flashed through her face. "How rude of me… Forgive me young maiden."

She blinked at him. Sensing she was too afraid to speak, Henry said softly, "I still need to know who you are."

"The name's Aria, my Lord."

Henry braced himself as he sat up slightly. "Aria, you say? That's no English name."

Aria gave a slight smile, "Whoever said I was English?"

"You don't sound or look foreign…" Henry remarked.

Aria tilted her head slightly and nodded, "Born and bred in your kingdom, sire. But I am no descendant of Englishmen."

Scrutinising his wound, Henry looked up, "What happened to my men?"

"I urge you not to worry, my king. The surviving few are being nursed as well." Aria chucked the soiled cloth into the water-filled bowl and stood up to leave.

"Don't leave me."

Aria turned and faced the king. "Please. Aria. Stay with me."

Not wanting to disobey him or further upset him, Aria placed the bowl on the side table and sat down.

"Thank you," Henry managed as he reached for her hand. "…for nursing me." He gave a gentle smile that made Aria's heart flutter. Closing his eyes, surrendering to a slumber, he gently tugged her hand closer to his chest.