The Battle of Shrewsbury [Werewolf AU]

[tiltingwithlips]

The day of the battle dawns cloudy and cold. The men on both sides form up as the sun rises behind the clouds, facing each other across a field of gray snow in orderly ranks.

When battle is joined, most semblance of that order disintegrates. The leaders of each army range here and there about the field, directing their troops, and soon the snow is churned and brown with mud and blood.

Most of the soldiers are too busy fighting for their lives to notice the gray wolf creeping around the edges of the battlefield, crouched low to the ground, her hackles raised and lips pulled back in a snarl. Kate has never seen a battle. It's not exactly what she was expecting.

Comments

[valiantrebel]

He could. He might. He would! Let him pass and watch him try.

[tiltingwithlips]

Not a chance in hell.

She snarls again, then barks, feinting towards him.

[valiantrebel]

Harry may not have been a wolf for long, but he knows that move in swordplay. He bares his teeth and plants his feet.

[tiltingwithlips]

Another bark.

Why are you being so stupid about this, Harry?

[valiantrebel]

Because, among a host of other reasons, which he is more than happy to repeat at length on request, the Prince of Wales, living son of Henry Bolingbroke, nearly killed him tonight and he should not have, and the method was not honorable, and of all men on the earth who should manage such a thing against him--!

[tiltingwithlips]

Enough! More than enough.

Kate lunges forward to try and tackle him to the ground again.

[valiantrebel]

Harry crouches low, and launches himself at her from below when she's close enough. It's a gamble, but he hopes he may have weight on his side.

God help them both, but he will not let his own wife stop him from what he must.

[tiltingwithlips]

She goes up and over with a surprised yowl, and immediately starts scrambling to her feet.

[valiantrebel]

He'll not fight her, if she'll only not follow. He bolts again for the king's camp.

[tiltingwithlips]

Of course he does.

Kate gets her feet under her and shoots after him. As she draws alongside him, she twists and throws herself against his side, immediately snapping for his throat.

[valiantrebel]

Harry's feet go flying. The force of Kate's blow sends him sprawling into the snow with an infuriated yowl.

[tiltingwithlips]

She lands on top of him and snarls into his face before bending her head to hold his throat in her jaws.

She had to save his life once today; he is not going to throw it away if she has anything to say about it.

[valiantrebel]

He struggles, a great burst of battle-mad fury. He kicks with all four legs, and writhes and bucks, but her grip is firm and he understands, though he's loathe to admit it, that he cannot risk too much under her teeth.

Though his eyes still roll wildly, and his teeth are still bared, he quiets and stills at last.

[tiltingwithlips]

They're both panting by now. Kate's feet are splayed on either side of him, bracing her against his struggles.

He certainly seems calmer, but she growls at him anyway.

[valiantrebel]

Oh, he snaps and snarls, but makes no move beyond that. It is a Herculean effort, but he may be reasoned with, even so.

[tiltingwithlips]

Very carefully, she lets go of his throat. Her teeth are still very much bared, though.

[valiantrebel]

He can smell the camp, the men, the horses, the grease of the fires. They're so close, so able. (And so alone.)

He continues to lie still, though he rolls his head away, to avoid (or ignore) her eye. Some things are constant across all forms.

[tiltingwithlips]

She won't stand for it, not now. She barks in his face, as much as to say look at me!

[valiantrebel]

He jerks back toward her, teeth bared and ears back. He still doesn't try to throw her off.

[tiltingwithlips]

Good.

She stares him down for a few more long moments, then gently mouths at his muzzle.

When they're both human again, he can be her lord and master and husband, and they can fight this out with words instead of teeth. But not now.

[valiantrebel]

His growl may as well be a grumble.

Nay, though it likes him little, he will be content and follow -- as he must, for he is entirely in her hands tonight.

[tiltingwithlips]

Fine, then. She lets him up, putting herself between him and the king's camp.

North and west, Harry, north and west.

[valiantrebel]

He shakes the snow off his fur and pauses, taking in Shrewsbury one more time. He is not given to sentiment about his battles, but then, he has not been killed and resurrected at any others.

Harry points himself and starts moving, with something less of the joy of earlier, but something much more of purpose.