I’ll forever keep checking your page for updates so its alright, life happens we understand! And you’re the best for offering to answer our questions / short prompts
Can I request a tiny bit of an angsty argument-interrupted-by-danger trope where one of them leaves after a fight and gets into danger then the other comes to their rescue and theres a soft ‘I thought I lost you’ reunion 🥺🥺🥺
Thank you so much for your understanding <3 Life do just be like that sometimes.
Oooh this is an interesting prompt and generally not my style, so this will be a challenge. If I may, I'll flavor it in a medieval setting to balance it with something I do write often lol!
"Get out. I am done with this childish argument."
"No!" Chloe pulls the tent flap closed behind her, catching the guards posted to either side of it glancing at each other. But she doesn't care. She's beyond worrying if anyone will hear them. "Beca, you've been lying to me since the beginning! Deceitful, manipulating—"
"Oh, you are maddening!" Beca rips off her sword belt and slams it onto the table, not even bothering to turn around and face her. "I did not even know you then! I thought you were just a pawn in a game you didn't know was being played, another noble girl chasing the queen's skirts for favor—"
"So that is what you see in me! Do you think that is what this is? That I've simply given up the queen's skirts in favor of your chainmail? Do you not think I know my own mind and wants?"
"It is how I saw you when I did not know you, Chloe," Beca snaps. "Do not twist my words in the same breath you call me manipulator!"
"Then tell me the truth! Tell me what you see now."
"I see you getting out of my tent!" Beca's shoulders are tense as she goes about removing her armor. Each piece of leather slaps against the table as she slams it down. "Cynthia Rose will escort you wherever you wish to go in the morning."
Chloe waves her hands around the tent, the camp. "I am where I wish to go. Where I should be! If you would just—"
"Just what?" Beca rounds on her, harsh anger in her voice even as her face stays just as infuriatingly calm as always. Her deep blue eyes seem even darker in the tent, with only the small central fire to light them. "Just let you give up your life of luxury? Your lands and inheritance? For what? To camp in the mud with us! Fight a war you have no business being in—"
"No business!?"
"—when you cannot even follow a simple order such as: Get. OUT!"
"FINE!" Chloe spins on her heel, striding over to slap the tent flap open. "We will talk more of this in the morning."
"You won't be here to do so, Lady Beale," Beca growls after her, but Chloe ignores it. Both the words and the hurt that comes with Beca shifting back to using her title. She is trying to put distance between them and Chloe thinks viciously that it's yet another decision Beca is making for her. Chloe does not want distance. This is just as much her war to fight as anyone else's here. The risk is her choice. She is no soft handmaiden or royal consort. Inexperienced she may be, but she can learn if Beca would just agree to train her.
She is just ducking into her tent when the shouts begin.
"Attack! To me!" Uni's voice calls from the east edge of camp.
Chloe doesn't hesitate. She draws her weapon and races toward the growing shouts and sounds of swordplay. Firelight glows brighter than it should just beyond the supply carts.
As she throws herself around the corner of one of the wagons, she is forced to skid to a halt. Steel flashes past her face, far too close, and Chloe scrambles back, bringing up her sword. It's luck that puts the blade where it needs to be to deflect the next blow.
Her attacker stumbles back and Chloe quickly glances around. The man is older, dressed in dirty tunic and breeches, with long, stringy hair and two gold teeth that shine in the light of the fire racing across the ground nearby. Beca's soldiers are scrambling, some trading blows with more enemies in equally dirty attire, some throwing dirt and water onto the flames before they can reach the tents. A horse screams somewhere and Chloe jumps as her attacker lunges back in.
The sword is heavy and clumsy in her hands, but she quickly realizes her opponent isn't very skilled either. They are evenly matched, but she has the advantage of being younger and faster. And smarter. He goes in for another swipe at her and she leans out of the way, letting the weight of his swing pull him past her. She drives the hilt of her sword into the back of his skull. With a sickening crunch, he goes down.
"TO ME!" Beca's voice is nearby and the soldiers react like a tide, pulled toward her in an unstoppable flood. Chloe joins them, lost for a while in the fear, the flashing of blades and faces. She's not sure if it's been a few seconds or hours. Her arms ache and the cool night air burns in her lungs. So focused on the steel around her, Chloe does not see the fist until it's too late. Pain lances through her temple and cheek as she's thrown back and she finds herself up against the side of a wagon. The hulking man in front of her—not older or slower like the first had been—swings a massive battle axe and Chloe braces herself, raising her sword. She is able to stop the blow from cleaving her in two, but the tip rips through the skin of her forearm and she cries out at the searing pain. The man chuckles, the axe curving back around for her.
This is just as much her war to fight as anyone else's here. The risk is her choice. She braces her feet and raises her sword.
Something slams into Chloe's side, throwing her out of reach of the blow that likely would have killed her. Beca, teeth bared, is a blur of steel and snarls. The man is easily three times her size, but it doesn't matter. It is all he can do to keep his axe between himself and Beca's sword and he gives ground quickly. Blood blooms on his face and arms as his parries come up slower and slower. Until, finally, he cannot get his axe up in time. His breath rushes out of the new opening in his throat and he collapses. His axe thuds into the dirt a few feet away.
Her head is pounding awfully and her arm has gone cold, but Chloe grabs the wagon's wheel and pulls herself up just as Beca returns to her side.
"Are you all right?" Beca grabs Chloe's chin, turning her face to examine what must be a terrific bruise already.
"I'm fine. The battle—"
"Is over." Beca jerks her chin over her shoulder and Chloe follows the movement to find she's right. Beca's soldiers are putting out the last of the fire, removing the dead, and tending to the wounded. Chloe is relieved to see none of the former are their people. "You need to sit."
"I can—" But even as Chloe tries to protest, her head throbs harder and she groans, letting Beca lower her to sit against the very wheel she'd just pulled herself up on.
"Rest. I will have Stacie come to check on you."
Chloe wants to say she's fine. To offer to help the others. But the pain is so strong that she just closes her eyes and obeys. Maybe a little rest...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chloe wakes all at once, startled from sleep one moment to alert the next. Her head hurts, but the pain in her arm is sharp and radiating up to her shoulder. She hisses through her teeth, reaching for the ache.
"Don't touch." Beca's warm hand wraps around her wrist. "It is nearly done."
It takes a moment to fully comprehend where she is. In Beca's tent. In Beca's bed. Sunlight is pouring through the open doorway and sleepy voices are murmuring throughout the camp. It's morning. The time Beca had said Chloe would be sent home.
Beca is sitting on the furs beside her, looking smaller and softer out of her armor and dressed in just a simple laced-up shirt and riding pants. Stacie is kneeling beside the bed, stitching up the cut in Chloe's arm. It hurts awfully, but it's sort of interesting to watch the curved needle work. Chloe is torn between nausea and fascination.
Stacie makes the final knot with practiced movements. "There you are. Keep it dry for a few days. Take it easy, if you can." She shares a glance with Beca that Chloe knows holds an entire conversation, then she leaves. The tent flap whispers closed. In Stacie's wake is an awkward silence that Chloe is desperate to fill, but she isn't sure how.
She feels rather foolish now. Their near-screaming match suddenly feels like a petty squabble in the face of the attack. It's worse that she can't read Beca right now. As ever, there is no hint of her emotions on her face. She just watches Chloe quietly, her hip almost brushing Chloe's leg.
"I'm sorry," Chloe says finally. For the argument, for storming away, for getting injured. For being here in the first place to be injured, maybe. She isn't sure what for. "What happened?"
"Bandits. An unfortunately common occurrence on the road."
"Was anyone else hurt?"
The question seems to soften Beca's face a moment. "A few. One of the new recruits required many more stitches than you did, but he will be well again soon. Otherwise, we came through it fair enough. We are well-versed in fighting off bandits."
Chloe sighs, hearing the unsaid part. That she isn't well-versed. She's injured because she's inexperienced and her being here is a liability. She opens her mouth to apologize again.
Beca's hand cups Chloe's jaw firmly, but her lips are oh so soft. Chloe startles, but kisses her back. All the pain is gone in an instant, replaced by a fluttering flame rushing through her. Injury be damned, she grabs hold of Beca's shirt to keep her there, to keep tasting her kiss a few moments longer. She would take a thousand more axe-wielding men to stay right here forever.
When Beca does break away, it's with a quiet, ragged breath that puffs across Chloe's cheek and is seared into her mind forever. "You need to rest more. Tomorrow, we begin your training."
"My— You're letting me stay?"
Beca's gaze is soft, a far cry from the battle rage or the apathetic stare she is so known for. It's softer than Chloe's ever seen it and it takes her breath away to be the recipient of such a look.
"You scared me last night. When I saw you there against the wagon, I—" Beca closes her eyes, as if she's seeing it anew and can't take the image. When they open again, there is the faintest shimmer of tears before she blinks them away and Chloe feels like she's been kissed all over again. "It was one thing to send you away myself. I could have lived on the belief that you were safe elsewhere. Angry with me, perhaps, but safe. But to think you'd been taken... You would expect it to solidify my fear of you being here." She sighs and her voice drops to a whisper. The sound of a breathless confession. "But instead I find the very idea of you being anywhere but at my side unbearable. Anywhere I cannot get to you immediately when you need me. The soldiers told me you were one of the first to rush into the fray last night. I saw you prepare to take the next swing of that axe when others would have run. Bravery like that cannot be taught and, gods, I wish you didn't have it. But if you are so damn determined to fight, Chloe, then you will do so with me." Beca kisses her again, slow and thorough. "Now rest, love. You will need your strength."
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