Summary: The Arisen gets hurt. His pawn seeks refuge for both of them and tends to his wound.
His Master was lying down in the hay bed of the abandoned, rustic house they found themselves in. The ceiling was low and rotten, the walls were overflowing with cobwebs and the floorboards creaked at every movement they made. They were supposed to head to Gran Soren and spend their night at the inn, hidden from the looming night.
However, his Arisen got hurt.
They had fought numerous goblins and hobgoblins on their way from The Greatwall. Unfortunately, they got lost in the dark, dormant forest in which the isolated Abbey could be found. The cold sun was kissing the horizon by the time they saw a way out of the labyrinth-like woods. The hero was blinded by the hope of finally getting back to Gran Soren, and before he could protect him, he got attacked by a powerful chimera that was preying on both of them. He did his best to protect his Master, but he couldn’t shield him from the first devastating blow.
He had to carry him in his arms while trying to find shelter from the rapidly dropping temperature. His Master had nuzzled his nose, unconsciously, into the crook of his neck. He could feel the slow, soft breaths that were warming up his skin little by little. An interesting attempt, he thought, at trying to seek protection.
They took shelter in a rotting house at a fork in the road. He put his master down in the bed, watching his steady breath. He quickly cleaned a bit around, removing some potentially dangerous objects from the floor such as broken glass and rusty nails.
And now, he is waiting. He is waiting for his Master to awaken. His chest is slowly rising up and down and beads of sweat are forming on his temple as he sleeps on the worn-out bed. The pawn is growing concerned. If medical attention will be required, he doesn’t know how he will acquire the necessary medicine. They are far from Gran Soren or any settlement, and his master might need medicine very soon. He sighs: it is a tired sigh, but also a worried one. He sits down on the floor, wiping some dust away with his hand first.
Some time passes. Outside, the melancholic howls of hurt wolves can be heard. The moon is glowing but the silvery clouds are slowly conquering it, turning the land into a dark, vast warzone. The pawn’s eyes widen when he hears his Master stir in his bed. He gets up quickly from the floor, wiping his pants in a swift motion. He gets closer to the bed, looking at him. The sorcerer slowly but steadily opens his eyes, groaning in pain as he does so. He turns his head slightly towards his pawn and ooks at him with glossy eyes as he opens his eyes to mutter something. The pawn looks confused and he bends down to meet his creator’s eyes properly.
“What is it, Master?”
“...Medicine. Bandages. In my bag...”
He sits up straight in an instant. In two long strides, he goes to get his bag and rummages through it. He takes out what was asked of him and comes back.
“How should I do this?”
His Arisen doesn’t say anything, just moans in pain because of the deep wound on his stomach. The pawn doesn’t say anything but understands what he has to do.
He gently removes the upper part of his robe, looking at the wound. The blood was seeping in the sorcerer’s clothes until now. He takes a clean cloth that he had found in the bag and wipes carefully at the wound. His Master’s skin is soft and pale, reminding him of the moonlight that has now stopped shining. He cleans the wound with the few materials he found in the bag. The hero winces slightly when he does so, but otherwise relaxes into the cold touch of his follower. The rough skin of the warrior’s long fingers are, bizarrely enough, comforting. It might be because of his gentle touch or because of the bond they share; he is not sure but he does not search to settle for a definite answer.
The pawn applies some bandages, attentively caring to his Master while he does so. He hears him sigh in his rather uncomfortable bed. As he finishes him up, he hears him mumble a few words while breathing quite heavily.
“...Might you repeat again, Master?”
The Arisen turns his head again towards his pawn. He gently takes his hand into his own, feeling his calluses formed by the longsword that he carries around. His fingers gently intertwine with his creation's, he looks at him with an affectionate glint in his eyes. “Please, stay with me”, whispers the sorcerer. A timid blush forms on his cheeks, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared. The pawn stares at him for a few seconds. Then, he sits down and delicately lies down on the bed. He feels his master nuzzle up to him, his breathing calming down now that they’re next to each other. He hesitates, but he lets the wounded man use his arm as a pillow. His Arisen’s hot breaths are lightly hitting his tanned neck.
“I will always stay by your side, Arisen.”
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