NEW CHAPTER!!! A Trick of the Light
Chapter 10: The Sword in the Stone
..... it's been 84 years....
but srsly tho - sorry dudes.
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The human body has, on average, 1.5 gallons of blood.
Emma had gagged, turning to the boy she’d befriended from class, useless as that endeavour was, she would be gone in a month regardless of how many people she left behind. The boy had smiled, miming an explosion and catching a glare from the teacher who paced back and forth at the front of the class.
It had been a fact she remembered at random again one afternoon while walking through a Boston hardware store with Killian, undecided as to what colour to paint the baby’s room, Henry and Hope trailing behind them holding wooden stir sticks like swords, Killian’s quiet voice providing advice as Henry spun and slowly parried his sister’s outstretched weapon held tightly between two chubby hands.
Emma had settled on a soft green paint which looked like forest moss when the waiting buckets of primer caught her attention. She’d tapped her nail on the lid, Killian’s hand on her hip as he warned Henry not to wander off, his hook snagging through the hood of Hope’s jacket as she howled in indignation- you alright, love?- and she’d smiled remembering when she’d leaned her cheek against his shoulder in the cool dark of the barn, the smell of horses and hay around them, recalling how his face had scrunched up knowledge as she watched him bend to hoist up his enraged daughter.
The human body has, on average, 1.5 gallons of blood.
Red gathered like a rising tide around her feet, Killian bellowing with rage as he slashed his way towards her, stunned onlookers and knights clearing from his path.
Killian’s voice rang through the throne room, Alec already moving, a stolen blade from a now fallen knight in his grasp as he kept Liam tucked to his chest- get my children out of here!- and Fiona slashed out with a dagger Killian hadn’t noticed before.
Find Henry! His command was met with only a nod from the older man, a man so much a father to him.
His blade, the sword of a king, had severed the head of the man who had kicked her, the power of his blow still smarting her ribs. She watched as it rolled away without ceremony under a table which held a scattering of glassware, Killian’s voice booming like thunder from above her.
Release my wife.
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