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[charmed-henry]

The Fall of Rome: A Battle of Beasts and Bows [Part Two: Into The Dark] || Henrose

Date: 2 July 2022 Featuring: @thehuntress-rose Warnings: Blood, slashing, violence, death of multiple minor characters (NPC)

Henry and Rose face off against the Princes of the Order, including some familiar faces.

HENRY

The group split, and Henry stuck with Rose.

He didn’t really know what he was doing here. He didn’t entirely know if he belonged here. He wanted to prove that he belonged here, of course– that he was atoning for his sins, that he was trying to right all the terrible, terrible wrongs he had wrought on the people around him. Eric. Ashleigh. And there would be more, if Henry didn’t take a stand.

Sticking with Rose gave him direction, at least. It reminded him why he was here. And so he didn’t stray far from her, creeping along the corridors to try and attack from behind.

A shout, somewhere around the bend. Henry froze, drawing his weapon. “Did you hear that?” he whispered. 

ROSE

Rose felt a familiar uneasiness in the darkened castle. The first and only time she’d been inside was a few weeks ago and it had been filled with life and people. Now it was a quiet, haunted place once again. The only comfort she had in this liminal space was Henry. She looked over to him in the silent waiting they did. He looked older. Maybe it was the moonlight on his features. Maybe it was the grief, or even the act of treason they were committing by being here. His eyes seemed darker, his face was too serious. Here in this ancient castle, where they might very well die, Rose could only really think about how she missed when he was happy. 

She heard the same noise he did and nodded in response, nocking an arrow. Guns were too loud for covert ops. She was proficient with swords and blades, but Rose was a dead shot. Rose was a trained marksman. This was a better time than any to use those skills, even if she had gotten rusty. She kept her bow down as she stepped forward almost to the landing. The blonde peered around the corner and saw Princes heading up the stairs, right where they were stationed. Her hand went out to press Henry against the wall, to cloak him in shadows. “I see three coming up the stairs,” she whispered as she, too, slunk into the darkness.

HENRY

Henry gulped. He had fought beside Rose before, of course. He remembered it well, that night on the boats. With Eric. And Gabriella, and the lake monster.

But this was different. These were the people Henry had grown up alongside, that he had once believed to be his brothers. But the betrayal of his family, when they had decided to flee, had proven to Henry that blood didn’t really matter the way he once believed it did. Rose wasn’t his blood, but here she was, the only person in the world Henry could be certain was his ally against all of this. And so while the thought of fighting alongside her made him nervous– what if something happened to her?-- he had to trust that the strength of their bond would be enough.

“On your guard,” Henry breathed, his sword at the ready. 

The man’s face came into sharp view as he approached, and Henry was momentarily frozen as he realized who it was. Augusta was supposed to marry him. In another world, he might have been Henry’s brother, not just in arms, but in name, too. 

“Charming,” the man snarled. “You always were such a little weasel. Coward.”

Henry gulped, every memory of the boys who used to taunt him at training running through his mind. They were never going to win, were they? With Henry on their side– Henry, who had never been quite strong or brave enough; Henry, who was too soft-hearted and daft; Henry, who simply didn’t fit in. Well, they didn’t stand a chance.

The taunting threw Henry off his balance, and the man managed to get a hit in, grazing Henry’s side with his sword as Henry jumped aside just in time. He let out a strangled yelp and attempted to counter, but the man laughed– and now there were more on the way.  

“You’re the coward,” Henry spat, thrusting his sword back at his opponent. 

ROSE 

Henry hesitated and the moment disarmed Rose. These were Princes of the Order. Henry, Tom, Phil, and John knew these men. They had grown up together, they were possibly even friends at one time. The Huntsclan taught her to not hesitate even when facing a friend, but it was easier said than done. Rose gritted her teeth when the enemy spoke to her friend. Her grip tightened on the bow, fingers pulling the taut string back slightly in agitation. 

Rose stood only a few feet away from the swords clashing. If she weren’t behind Henry, she’d be of more help. From her position, if she took the shot at this man… she could hit either of them. The huntress took a few calculated steps back, surveying her options. More men approached from the same direction the current adversary came from, reaching the top of the stairs now. An easy shot. 

With her breath, she pulled back the arrow and let it go. The metal tip whizzed past the melee and hit her target square in the shoulder with a sickening thunk. The prince let out a grunt then yelp as the force caused him to stumble. Then in rapid succession another arrow sinking into his chest sending him backwards over the banister. Another scream and a resounding thud. “So much for the silent part of the mission,” she muttered mostly to herself. Rose looked to Henry’s fight and back to the other approaching knights before backing up down the hall and nocking another arrow but keeping it low. This was bad… the more noise they made the more people would show up. Rose took a few steps back before walking right into a tight grasp. The girl gasped and lost her arrow to the floorboards as another prince, approaching from behind them, grabbed her arm. Her free hand dropped the bow and went to grab for her dagger. 

HENRY 

They were properly dueling now, slashing and parrying like they were back in training again. Except this wasn’t training. Henry’s opponent wanted to kill him. And Henry…

Well, he’d never had much stomach for human foes. Or any, really, since last year. Henry didn’t know what he was aiming to do, really. Mostly, he was playing defense. He needed to get away from this Prince— he could see, out of the corner of his eye, that Rose was in a tight spot— but he didn’t want to kill him, either.

Deep in thought, concentrating on the duel, Henry didn’t even notice another Prince coming up behind him and slashing at his shoulder. Henry cried out in pain as bright red blood bloomed over his white tee shirt. He stumbled, but the hit snapped him into focus. He whipped around and hit his attacker with the blunt end of his blade, knocking him to the ground. “Okay over there, Rose?” Henry called through gritted teeth as pain exploded in his shoulder. He just had to keep going. 

ROSE

“You left your back open, you stupid little gi–” his vituperative words caught in his throat as Rose stuck the blade wherever she could find. It just so happened that it was over her shoulder and into his neck. She kicked back with her elbow, forcing the assailant off her. His hands went to his bleeding jugular, grasping onto the lifeforce seeping out of him. The knight fell to his knees before her and she looked down on him for a moment.

“You left your throat open, dumbass,” Rose insulted back. Underestimating her was a fatal flaw, she was going to exploit it. 

Henry’s yelp called her back to where they were. He was fighting a losing battle, and more princes had to be on their way. Thinking tactically, Rose rushed to the side of the man she just downed, “I’ll be taking this.” The blonde slipped the golden hilted sword out of his side scabbard, shaking off his loose grip on her ankle as she strode away. Joining the fight in an overhead arc, Rose slashed the blade through the air missing completely. “I’m fine, are you?”

She noticed the blood blooming across his chest in her periphery. They couldn’t afford to share a worried glance in this battle. Their foe was better than the both of them. Rose could only hope they weren’t better than them combined.

HENRY

“Yes, I’m fine. Just a scratch,” Henry panted, which, improbably, made him think of Monty Python, which, idiotically, made him laugh to himself. Maybe it was the searing pain across his shoulder, making him delirious. 

But Henry couldn’t worry about that. He turned his back to Rose, so that they were backed up against one another now, each covering the other. It was strange how natural it felt– it was vampires all over again, it was sea monsters all over again, just one key difference: the monsters weren’t monsters. They were men. 

Men just like Henry.

If Henry were ever to forgive himself, the part of him that was monstrous needed to die. Swiftly and decisively, no more half-life wasting away. And so he pressed on, slashing and jabbing, ignoring thoughts of how those injuries were probably going to be fatal from all the blood that was leaking across the stone floors of the castle, until it was just himself and another boy, not much older than himself.

“Henry The Mad!” the boy, Andrew, Henry recognized him now, taunted as his sword clashed against Henry’s. Every time Henry made a move, Andrew seemed to mirror him, like he was Henry’s shadow. “What’s so funny? Are you going to keep laughing after you’re begging for my mercy, Henry The Mad?”

Henry didn’t say anything in response, just gritted his teeth and tried harder to find a chink in the boy’s armor, a weak spot. But they had been trained the same way, by the same masters. They knew all the same tricks. Henry was never going to win like this.

“Watch my back,” Henry muttered to Rose, and then spun around, attempting to pin Andrew against the wall. He was exposed now, if any more of his childhood “friends” showed up– but Andrew was trapped, and Henry was just going to have to hope that Rose would watch out for him. 

Andrew struggled, but he was backed up against the wall now, and for once, Henry had the advantage. With a slightly clumsy maneuver (made more clumsy by Henry’s injury) he managed to twist his opponent’s arm so that he dropped his weapon. And now was Henry’s chance. He pinned Andrew to the wall, sword raised against his throat.

“You won’t really do it,” Andrew taunted, sweat dripping down his forehead. 

“What makes you think I won’t?” Henry grunted in response.

“You’ve gone all soft-hearted.” He spat the last word. “Traitor.”

Henry gritted his teeth. “The best people I know… are soft-hearted,” he said through his teeth. “I wish I were like them. They’re better than me.”

“I’m better than you. At least I’m going to die for something that matters.”

Two other men were on the floor, groaning, fading. Henry pressed the blade closer to the boy’s throat, but he didn’t seem afraid. And Henry realized this was what Andrew wanted. What Henry would have wanted, once. What he had been trained his whole life for. There was nothing nobler than to die for your King, even if that King was dead now. And to be killed by a traitor…

Henry wasn’t going to give this Prince what he wanted. There were worse consequences to suffer than death, Henry knew this, because he was living them, and he thought everyone like him deserved that too.

He kneed Andrew in the stomach hard, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to double over. Andrew groaned loudly, and Henry took advantage of this brief moment of distraction to kick him again, hard against the wall, in the knees– it was a crude and artless tactic that Henry only knew because his parents had insisted on teaching the girls self-defense before they went off to uni in London, and Henry had wanted to tag along– but it was effective. One kneecap, then the other, shattered– and Andrew fell to the ground, wailing.

Still very much alive. But no longer a problem to Henry. 

Henry picked up the Prince’s sword, his hands shaking now, and stuck it in his own hilt, trying to ignore the groans of pain coming from the floor. He didn’t want the sword, but he didn’t want someone else picking it up, either. He fell back into rhythm alongside Rose, noticeably paler and shaken now.

ROSE

Rose didn’t like having her back to Henry. If this castle was the Underworld, she was Orpheus. Forbidden to gaze upon Eurydice amidst the horrors. Should she waver, even for a moment, the pair of them could be doomed. So, Rose trusted him blindly. She could hear the dry laugh, the animosity this Prince had. The harsh words from a once ally. Henry asked her to watch his back and that is exactly what she was going to do. Squashing the rising concern in her chest, the huntress focused on her own battle. 

The Prince she faced tried to push her backwards, inching forward with every change in footing. It was a pincer tactic, the Order surrounded the pair of traitors and pressed inwards. Unfortunately for them, the Huntsclan wasn’t so structured in its fighting. Rose parried and stood her ground, not letting him press forward. The blades clashing together was drawing closer to her form. He was a better swordsman, but Rose wasn’t afraid. She merely lowered her stolen sword and adjusted her footing. A flash of silver reflected across her placid face as the knight arced his sword down. Rose didn’t block him. The tip drew a dark red line across the back of her arm as she had changed her stance, purposefully leaving herself open for the attack. She merely hissed at the tear opening on her bicep and took the slash. With his momentum pointed downwards, the huntress dropped her sword and lifted her back foot. The boot swung up and delivered a roundhouse kick to her opponent’s temple. 

HENRY 

Caught up in his own fight, Henry didn’t see what was happening between Rose and her opponent until he heard the sound of her hiss in pain. Rose was tough, and she didn’t like to show when she was in pain, but after fighting alongside her so many times, Henry was attuned to her reactions to things. 

He whipped around and his stomach dropped at the sight of the blood. Henry had been slashed by another one of the Princes himself, as the throbbing in his shoulder continued to remind him, but that was all forgotten. This was different. This was Rose.

And this was not, surprisingly, any kind of protective instinct over Rose because she was a girl. Maybe two years ago, Henry would have reacted in that way. But Rose had proven that the Order’s conventions about who could be a fighter didn’t actually mean anything in practice. It had more to do with the scenes that Henry remembered from the last time he fought alongside Rose: Eric, bleeding out and falling swiftly through the water. Only getting away with his life because a mermaid took pity on him.

Well, this time, Henry wasn’t leaving it up to chance. He gave Rose the space to make her kick and then advanced, his decision not to kill forgotten, stabbing the sword at the Prince’s side. It was a cheap shot, one that would have been easily dodged in training, but he was distracted by the kick to his head.

“Henry?” the Prince looked at his former comrade in surprise, then coughed blood. Henry stumbled backward. He recognized this one, too. He was older than Henry, better at fighting, and he had never really been anything but kind. But the Order made monsters of everyone. 

Henry looked around, refusing to look him in the eye. “I think that’s all of them,” Henry said, his voice odd and far away. 

“Henry,” the Prince said again. Henry felt ill. He ignored him.

ROSE

Blood dribbled down her arm, curling around her elbow and into her clenched palm. The sticky feeling of it was all too familiar. At this point she had her fists up and ready if the Prince decided to get up, shaking hands be damned. But then Henry came to her aid. The girl watched it play out in seemingly slow motion. Had Henry always been so polished in his swordplay? She remembered the golf clubs on the rear deck nearly two years ago. She remembered thinking she was better than him until he got her talking. She remembered how much fun it used to be to just be with him. 

Now she stood, covered in blood, analyzing swordsmanship as her friend defended her. Henry stabbed the Prince. Rose repeated that in her head. Going into this, the thought of fighting people he knew almost made him sick. But in the spur of the moment, it seemed Henry had no regard for the life in front of him and for what? For Rose? 

“Henry?” Rose spoke in reply. It was her turn to be the concerned one. She didn’t want him to hurt, but this should. It’s supposed to hurt. The blonde raised her bloody hand to reach for his cheek, an unwelcome comfort. Though she froze, leaving it hanging between them for a moment. There was a slight tremor, one she would have been reprimanded for in New York. She didn’t know why she was shaking. Rose didn’t feel afraid, except that she was. Not for her own safety, but what this violence meant for her friend. She dropped her hand to her side and wiped it on her pants. 

Instead of another pitiful excuse for reassurance, Rose spoke clinically, “Yeah. We should probably try to meet up with another group, right?” 

HENRY

Henry looked at Rose, willing the rest of the scene to fade away. He didn’t want to think about it. Not now. He would have the rest of his life to think about this moment, his former brothers weak and bleeding on the floor of the castle, all because of him and Rose. But right now, if he thought too hard about it, he had a feeling he might collapse. He was already starting to feel dizzy.

The only thing that felt real was Rose. She said his name and Henry clung to that, stepping close to her. Rose, he started to say, though his lips just moved silently. She seemed almost to reach for him just then, and Henry almost reached for her too. Maybe he just wanted to hold onto someone in this moment– or maybe Rose wasn’t just anyone. Maybe she was the only one.

And then she put her hand down and she wasn’t just a girl anymore, she was a soldier again, and so was Henry. He snapped back into the role of the fighter he was supposed to be, pushing away any of those confusing thoughts. There was no time for that. The others might need backup. 

“Yes,” Henry said robotically, turning toward the hallway. “I’ve got your back.”

ROSE

Rose couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Maybe that’s what made this corridor seem so hollow. Not the four dead and dying. Not the way the moon trickled through the far window, barely lighting the space. Rose couldn’t tell what Henry was thinking and that felt foreign. Her eyes searched what she could see of his face in the darkness. Much like before the fight, he looked more serious than she’d ever seen him. Older. Forever changed. 

The huntress looked at the carnage around them, sweeping her fraying braid behind her shoulder again. For the price they paid, it didn’t seem like much. The Order was far from fallen. Rose’s heart fell to her feet when she thought about the price of morality. They were doing the right thing, and yet it would haunt them forever. She let Henry get a few steps away from her in her contemplation before catching up to him. And even though she didn’t know how to be there for him, she slipped her sticky hand in his as she fell into step with him. “And I’ve got yours.”