dribbles of maroon trail behind her, an unwelcome suitor to the wound in her middle. her fist makes a hollow thug against Fan's chamber door, feet swivel and her body slips down to the floor of Asgard's marvelous hall. oh bittersweet grip of cold, unwelcome and unknown to her royal form as it coursed through her as viciously as any flame.
The knock comes as a surprise (he hadn’t been expecting any guests, had he?), but a rather more unpleasant one was the dark trails of blood that caught his attention as soon as he opened the door.
❝ Seph? Sephora, my darling, speak to me. ❞ Fandral tried to keep the rising sense of panic out of his voice, but his heart started to thud faster with every new drop of blood that hit the floor. It would be dangerous to try and pick her up, but he had no medical knowledge to speak of, and the Healers wouldn’t be able to work in the middle of the corridor.
That was, of course, assuming that he’d get there in time.
No! He shook that thought from his brain, refusing to even consider the possibility that he’d lose the person he’d gifted his heart too. He would travel to the afterlife itself and retrieve her himself if he had to, but he would not lose her.
❝ My love, can you look at me? I need you to stay awake, and hold onto me as tight as you can. I’m going to carry you to the healing chambers, and it will hurt but I’ll be as careful as I can. Just stay awake, and everything will work out fine. ❞
