The halls of the fortress that housed the Royal Order of the Shield were uncharacteristically silent. Usually, Lord Nicholas would have important nobles visiting, and there would be chattering and laughter as people bustled through the corridors. At the moment, however, there was only one figure in the wide hallway- Sir Steven. Having had a few days to recover, the knight was finally able to get up and venture out of his chamber without having Dame Maria yell at him to rest.
Steven stepped lightly on the floor, careful not to make too much noise. Normally, he wouldn't have cared who heard him, but at the moment he was listening intently. Waiting. Someone was following him. He heard a dull thud against the wall behind him, and he gave a small smile. "Ah, too bad. I heard you, Phil- oof!" Steven was cut off as he found himself on the floor with the wind knocked out of him. Philip stood above him, wooden sword in hand. "Ah-hah! Not today, sire!" he crowed proudly. His smile fell when he noticed Steven had to take a minute to regain his breath. "I'm sorry- was that too much? Are you okay?" He asked in concern.
Steven laughed at the boy. "Too much? That was great!" he smiled. "Your stealth is definitely getting better." Philip beamed, reaching a hand down and helping Steven stand back up. "What else should we do today?" he asked excitedly. "I've been working on my footing! See?" Steadying the wooden sword, Philip scrunched his nose in thought. "Thrust, step, parry. Thrust, step, parry," he repeated to himself under his breath. Steven watched merrily. He had to admit, the boy's technique was improving, and rapidly.
With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Steven looked down the hallway past Philip. "Ah, hello Dame Maria! Don't you think Philip is doing wonderfully?" he yelled out. Startled, Philip parried where he was supposed to step, sending his sword bouncing off the wall. He looked wildly in both directions down the empty hallway before slowly realizing he had been tricked. Stephen chuckled. "Stealth, footing, all important- but useless if you don't have concentration." he instructed. The tips of Philip's ears turned red. "What do you say we practice sparring right now?" he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.
Steven raised his hands in mock defense. "Did I offend my squire's honor?" he teased. "In that case, a duel is most warranted. You may choose the weapon." Philip smiled at the chance to show off his knowledge of chivalrous combat. He was about to suggest they use the quarterstaffs, when suddenly the door at the end of the hallway was flung open. The good natured atmosphere in the room suddenly soured as both knight and squire saw Natasha clinging to the doorway- bloody.
Natasha gripped her bandages with one hand while she attempted to stay on her feet. She knew she should not have traveled so far so quickly in her condition, but she knew with every minute that passed her chances of ever seeing Clint again lessened. "Summon… Lord Fury… now!" she struggled to order between labored breaths.
After a second of stunned silence, Steven snapped into action. "Do as she says," he told Philip. Philip nodded and spun around, bolting down the hallway. Steven hurried to Natasha's side. "How bad is it?" he asked, peeling back the bandages to inspect the wound.
"It is nothing I cannot handle.. ngh," she gasped at the wave of pain shot through her abdomen as she unwound the bandages. "Worse... than... I thought," she said through gritted teeth. "But it's not important right now. Clint… in trouble. It's... my fault. We have to find him." She looked into Steven's eyes in desperation as her knees gave way and she sank to the floor.
His face set with determination, Steven reached down and picked Natasha up, effortlessly cradling her in his arms. He walked as quickly as he could down the hallway without jostling her injured side. Something stirred deep within him, a memory of a battle long past. He knew how important it was to keep your injured comrade calm... and awake. "Don't worry about your partner," he said confidently. "He'll be fine. We'll find him. Why don't you tell me exactly what happened? Start at the beginning so you don't leave anything out." he said. Battle training had set him on autopilot, routine running through his mind as he headed towards Lord Nicholas' chamber. "Keep her talking. Keep her awake. Ease her mind. Ease the pain." he thought.
He turned the corner and saw Lord Nicholas hurriedly coming towards them, robes billowing out behind him and concern etched on his face. Philip scurried beside him, carrying a woven pallet from the infirmary. Steven let out a small puff of relief. "And actually listen to what she's saying," he added to his mental checklist, noticing that he hadn't been paying attention to her story. She was in the middle of saying something about a man with a metal arm when Philip reached them with the pallet.
Steven gently laid her down on it and picked up the other end. Lord Nicholas' eye squinted as he looked at her, gently taking her hand with one of his and checking for a fever with his other one. "Natasha. What happened? Where's Clint?" he asked tensely.
"We were on a hunt. The man was stronger than I expected. I was not careful enough. He stabbed me and strangled Clint. I could not get to him in time, they both vanished in a flash of light. I have never seen anything like it or the man's metal arm. This is very dark magic at work, stuff we have not seen before, and Clint's in the middle of it," Natasha spoke as the pain surging through her gave way to anger and worry.
Lord Nicholas' expression darkened as he listened to her story. "This is what I've feared," he said. He nodded at Steven. "Your reappearance, and the discovery of the mystical cube, now this. There is no coincidence here. We must get to Lord Stark, immediately. Clint's life may now depend upon it."
Steven clenched his jaw. He had not yet had the pleasure of making Clint's acquaintance, but it didn't matter. He was on their side- he was an ally of Shield, and the looks on Nicholas and Natasha's faces when they spoke about him were heart wrenchingly familiar to Steven. He was going to help them, at any cost. "Let's get her to the infirmary," Steven said to Philip, whose arms were beginning to tremble with the effort of keeping his side of the pallet upright. "We can't travel anywhere until we address her wound." Lord Nicholas gave a solemn nod of agreement, and they all traveled down the hallway in a tangible silence.
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