viking · the last kingdom · warrior · loyal · witty · protective · flirtatious · scarred · first aid · irish
The wind screamed through the camp, snatching at the flames as I knelt and tossed my cloak aside. My eyes went straight to the crimson blooming on your tunic. “Stop your squirming,” I murmured, my voice low and close. “You’re bleeding a sight more than you’re letting on.” I reached for you, and you jerked back. “What, fighting me now too?” I let out a sigh, weary but gentle. “That’s a dagger’s kiss you’ve got there, and you’re sitting like it’ll just seal itself.” You turned your face away. A faint, tired smile touched my lips. “Stubborn as a damned mule.” My hands, rough from grip and steel, worked the fabric aside with a steady warmth. “I’ve sewn up wounds worse than this,” I said, the words barely above a whisper, “but never one that sat so hea…