Arthur breathed heavily, his back still pressed against the large stone wall that surrounded the city. He could hear the approaching cavalry and gripped his sword tighter. He knew she was coming and this was, perhaps, the only chance he was going to get capture her. Above him, a guard manning the gate waved a small blue flag. Three horsemen. One Jeanne, two unknown. The Englishman grinned.
Francis was to Jeanne's right side, ever unwilling to leave her side he had disgusted himself crudely but well. His long hair was tied up and hidden under his helmet and he kept a constant watch over her. She was currently talking to the other officer, discussing plans to stop the English Siege of Compiegne.
Trying to calm his breathing down, Arthur peaked around the gate, watching the three white horses and their riders trundle closer and closer. It was a daring move, hiding his troops, planning a trap, but if it worked, Jeanne would be his.
"Mon commandant-" Francis attempted to speak in a deeper note than usual, though he was sure Jeanne knew it was him, "I am getting an uneasy feeling about zis- Per'aps we should turn back..." Jeanne looked back at him and smiled and gently shook her head. He sighed, something just didn't feel quite- right- His gut was in terrible knots.
The horses thundered by, through the gate and Arthur raised his hand, shouting loudly. Above, the guard nodded, pulling a lever. The gears began to whirl and the gate slammed shut. Arthur stepped out of the shadows.
"Mon Dieu! Jeanne! Run!" Francis sneered at the offending soldier and looked back at Jeanne, who refused to retreat. She motioned for Francis to leave, quickly announcing that she would follow. But he stood his ground, next to Jeanne where he belonged. "Very well- Angleterre! You will pay for zis trap!" He unsheathed his sword and glared at the soldier again.
Arthur merely raised his hand again. From behind building and shadows, his hidden soldiers appeared, training bows on them. "Think carefully about your next move France," he said, slowly striding towards him, green eyes never leaving the deep blue ones, "I only want her. Hand her over without a fight and I'll spare you."
"I cannot die as long as there is a man on zis earth willing to call himself a Frenchman! I will not leave Jeanne's side you English bastard!" Francis removed his helmet and let his hair fall, he commanded his horse to trot in front of Jeanne but she would have none of it. Smiling at him again Jeanne took her place next to him and shouted as well, "We will not surrender to you, English scum!"
Frowning, Arthur looked up at the two defiant figures. "Well, I'll be interested to know if nations bleed." He jerked his head slightly. A soldier let lose an arrow, striking the third member of the French party in the space where the armor met his helmet. He fell from his steed and did not rise. "One more chance before I make you practice for my archer." His men laughed and he smiled with them.
Francis looked at Jeanne nervously, he was not to eager to find this out either but he couldn't leave her. They were heavily outnumbered and it was impossible to win against them. "Mon commandant, let us retreat to fight another day, oui?" She looked over to him and nodded, both of them turning quickly and begging their horses to run faster than the English soldiers arrows.
Arthur was not surprised by the retreat. He held a hand, indicating his soldiers shouldn't fire. For a few moments, he watched the white horses disappear into the heart of the city. "The city's completely locked off. No one is getting in or out." He retrieved his own horse, mounting it. "Weed the French rats out. We will find them." It was a game now, and Arthur didn't plan on losing. He nudged his steed into a slow trot.
"They didn't fire..." Francis looked back quickly as his horse reached a full gallop. "They are planning something-" He glanced at Jeanne and spoke quietly, "I fear for you mon amour." She smiled slightly and increased their pace.
Taking his time to wander through the city, Arthur wanted to enjoy the time leading up to the moment when he slide his sword into the witch's armor. He imagined she wouldn't scream, no, she had too much pride, but hopefully Francis would shriek instead. He drew his horse to a stop, quirking his head, trying to keep alert for the subtlest of sounds.
Their horses tired after a while, unable to keep up the hurried pace and the couple slowed to a them to a walk. Francis kept a constant look around them but was rather confused when it didn't seem that anyone had followed them. What was that damned Englishman up to?
And then he heard it, the quietest set of horses hoofs on the cobblestone - not galloping anymore, clearly falling into the false pretense of safety. Carefully, Arthur slide off his horse, double checking his sword was still at his hip and grabbed his bow and quiver from the horse's back. He began to stalk towards the delicate sounds, slowly notching an arrow.
Francis lead his horse closer to Jeanne's side and looked at her. His gut was starting to knot again and he took her armored hand lightly in his own and placed a gentle kiss on the cold metal. He kept the close proximity to her and they continued to walk, looking for someplace to hide.
Arthur darted from house to house, the sound growing ever closer. His heart was pumping furiously and his breathing was shallow. How long had he waited for this moment? He glanced around a corner and caught sight of a white tail flicking out of sight.
They did not keep a straight path, they knew better than that. Turning down small alleys and roads the pair made sure that if anyone was tailing them they would have to work for it. Francis pointed at small dirt covered road and quickly trotted over to it, motioning for Jeanne to follow.
Arthur watched them turn down the dirt path. He carefully drew the string of his bow back, aiming directly for the unarmored side. Letting out a slow breath, his fingers let loose the arrow.
The rush of air blew past them, missing by mere inches, and they immediately turned to face the threat. Francis managed to shove his way in front of Jeanne, between her and the offending archer. Drawing his sword he challenged, "Show yourself lâche!"
Muttering a slew of curses, Arthur kept low and in the shadows, pulling another arrow from his quiver and fitting it. This time he aimed directly for France, figuring that even if he hit the right spot, Francis would remain alive long enough to see his precious Jeanne fall. The arrow flew from his bow.
"Merde!" France cursed as an arrow sunk itself in his left arm, he winced as he ripped it from his arm and dismounted, charging toward the hidden enemy. "You will pay for zat! I assure you!"
sliding his bow over his shoulder, Arthur pulled his blade out of his sheath, but remained crouched, watching Francis storm towards him.
Jeanne called out to Francis to keep his head and the raging Frenchman halted in the middle of the road. Charging after an enemy that you cannot see was incredibly foolish, raising his sword he repeated himself, "Show yourself!"
Marveling at how much power the woman held over the nation, Arthur decided that now was his only chance. He knew he couldn't best Francis in a duel - the Frenchman's blade skills were much better than his. not making a sound, he placed his sword on the ground, just within arm's reach in case France decided to charge again, and slipped his bow off his shoulder, notching another arrow and aiming for Jeanne of Arc. This time, he wouldn't miss.
Francis could see the glint of another arrow hidden in the shadows and saw it wasn't aimed for him. Cursing again loudly he charged again, toward the archer, readying his sword and putting his own body in the path of the arrow. "Jeanne! Run!" His voice had a hint of fear in it.
It took Arthur only a moment to readjust his position in relation to Francis moving in front of him. He let the arrow fly and without even checking to see if it hit his target (It had to, he couldn't miss the one opportunity) dropped his bow and picked up his sword.
"Arthur!" Francis froze as the arrow whizzed past him, his gaze following it as it sunk deep into Jeanne's shoulder. He blood boiled and he face his rival again, anger and rage burning in his eyes, "You will die for that Angleterre! I will see to it myself!"
Feeling like a caged animal, Arthur cackled maniacally. "You can kill me." He breathed, the knuckles of his sword hand turning white, "But then she'll die." stepping out of the shadows, he raised his blade, while mentally preparing to flee should Francis attack him. "It's your choice."
Francis' heart burned and he glared at Arthur speaking quietly before he turned to help Jeanne, "My heart harbors nothing but hate for you, Arthur-" He broke into a run back to Jeanne and helped her off her horse, tending to her worriedly. How could they get out of here?
Letting the breath he had been holding hiss out between his teeth, Arthur glanced between the couple and the path behind him. He could run and let his men finish them off, but that would bring him no satisfaction...He began to stride towards Jeanne and Francis, his hand trembling as he clutched his sword.
"Jeanne... Jeanne... Are you alright?" Francis laid her on the ground, careful not to touch the arrow suck in her. She closed her eyes tightly to hide the pain in them and whispered a quiet yes to him. He placed a kiss on her forehead and glanced up at Arthur. "Leave or my sword will find itself buried in your chest!"
"There's nowhere you can go." Arthur said quietly, not watching Francis, but rather the color slowly draining from Jeanne's cheeks. "The entire city is closed off...My men are everywhere." He swallowed, a lump growing in his throat.
Francis looked back down at Jeanne and his breath caught, she was losing blood to fast. This wasn't happening- Francis was suppose to protect her- she was everything to him, Jeanne was smiling up at him but he could tell she didn't have long in this state. "Merde! Arthur you scum!" His eyes betrayed him as tears started to fall onto Jeanne's cheek.
"Y-you really love her." Arthur said, green eyes widening. "You actually love her. I can't believe it..." He chuckled nervously, "A human... fuck... 500 years we've known each other and you still surprise me." He lowered his blade and took a step towards the couple.
"A-amour knows not race, gender, or mortality Angleterre," The Frenchman's voice unwillingly giving out as he started to shake. He held Jeanne gently, attempting to put some pressure on the wound to slow the bleeding, what he would give for a medic.
Figuring that if Francis was going to attack him, he would have enough time to jump back and flee, Arthur came with arm's length of the Frenchman and Jeanne. He tilted his head, watching the blood slip over Francis' fingers. "She's not going to make it unless she gets to a doctor." He whispered, "You're going to have to let her die or... hand her over to me."
"I'm suppose to trust scum like you with mon Jeanne? You truly are insane Arthur," Francis ignored Arthur's approach, his attention occupied with trying to stop Jeanne's bleeding. He didn't want to admit it, but handing over Jeanne was his only option, he just couldn't let her die. "Y-you will kill her..."
Arthur made to touch Francis' shoulder, but stopped. "She may die if you give her to me." He said, trying to keep his voice even, "But she will die if she stays were with you."
Jeanne looked at Francis through half-lidded eyes and spoke quietly to him, telling him that he should give her to Arthur, she would be alright. More tear's spilt from his eyes and he whispered to her quietly to her, "Je t'aime Jeanne..." He looked up at Arthur with hate in his eyes, "If she dies- I shall never forgive you Angleterre..."
Arthur nodded, a pit of guilt already forming in his stomach. He placed a hand to his mouth, calling for him men. They arrived within minutes, and only paused for a moment when Arthur told them they were taking Jeanne to a medic. The soldiers gently picked her up and carried her to the small home they were using as hospital. Arthur hung back, making sure that Francis didn't try to follow them.
Francis sat in the spot where he had held Jeanne and stared at his blood covered hands, he knew Arthur was never giving her back. He knew it from the start- his gut was always right. Stuck in a state of shock he closed his eyes, and whispered quietly again, "Je t'aime Jeanne..."
"I..." Arthur tried to say, but the lump in his throat was preventing him from talking. He could hear his men cheering triumphantly, the witch in their grasp. He could hear Francis whispering. He could hear the distant rumble of thunder. "F-Francis...I-I... I am sorry."
"Merde à la hausse-" Francis stood up and continued to stare at the ground where his Jeanne's blood was spilt, his eyes hidden by his loose hair, "You are sorry for nothing." He gathered his horse and Jeanne's and turned away from the Englishman.
Arthur grabbed Francis shoulder. "Say what you want." He said to the armored back. "But I am sorry. I know what it's like to love someone and have them taken away." He released the shoulder and stalked away, grabbing his fallen bow and starting towards the makeshift hospital.
"Arthur," Francis turned and faced the retreating man, "Do you really know? Do you know how it is to have everything ripped from you by someone you once held dear? Can you fathom the pain- not only from losing Jeanne- But the fact that it was -you- zat took her from me?" Tears were streaming down his face as he spoke, but he kept his voice steady and determined.
"Once upon a time," Arthur began, to looking at Francis. "When I was a young boy, I lived with a spirit. She was kind and beautiful and promised to protect me from anything. But then one day, strange men came to my shores. I was scared, no, terrified at first but the spirit told me that I would be safe. I trusted her and met the men, one in particular standing out, taking a great liking to me. As he became my closet friend, I forgot about the spirit, too engrossed with the foreign and unknown tongue to even care." He drew a deep, stuttering breath, rubbing his eyes on the back of his hand. "And then, just like that, she was gone. The forests she had held so dear were cut down by the strange men. The rivers she had protected drew murky and dark with blood spilled by my people at the hand of the strange men. And me, the one thing she had held closest to her heart, was left alone amid the broken earth as the man I can come to trust, to like, to love left."
"A sweet bedtime story mon Angleterre, but inaccurate," Francis walked over to the Englishman and stopped within inches of him, staring deeply into the green eyes, "You expected me to bow to you-" He poked Arthur's chest once to make a point and continued, "-to take you're king as mine. You expected me to stay with you when you wanted to rule over me?"
"I just wanted you to stay Francis." He said, shaking his head, staring back into his blue eyes. "Do you realize how young I was? How confused? Can you really blame me for wanting to keep the one person whom I've trusted besides Elizabeth at my side?" He laughed quietly, taking a step away from him. "It doesn't matter. Pretend that I don't understand. Feel sorry for yourself, I don't care."
Francis narrowed his eyes and spoke bitterly, "You never did mon -cher-." He quickly turned on his heel and mounted his horse, grabbing the other's reins. Jabbing his heel in his steed's side he took off, going anywhere away from that stupid, insufferable Englishman that had caused him so much pain.
Arthur watched him ride off, and only once he was out of sight, did he let out a small, chocked sob. "I care." He breathed, "I do." He took a moment to recover himself before turning his head upward, staring at the darkening sky. Tomorrow he would end this, Jeanne would fall and he would emerge victorious.
This would not go unpunished, even with Jeanne's death France would not lose this war- He had to go back and rally his soldiers, take Jeanne's place and remind them of her sacrifice for her people, for his people. No, Jeanne's death would not be a loss- It would be the cry of his people as they fought the English scum. Vive Jeanne d'Arc!