Byron watched, growling in turn at Fran's comment about his hand. And that, truthfully, was the worst, that she was worried and the guilt he felt about that was gnawing away at his need to get back on the battlefield. Nevermind the blood trickling down from a cut on his head, or the probably broken or cracked bones in other parts of his body, the guilt she made him feel. He'd really never had anyone care about him like that, well except his siblings but that was different.
I've had worse, he mumbled it even with hard eyes watching her. Tense, ready to pull away and go the moment he could. It's still useable this time.
Rare was the time he felt bad for how he fought, more so when he actually let someone push him to the ground. Even the priestess who was watching them had been forced to be far more firm with him then he thought she was comfortable with.
Which really, who was comfortable telling their king to stay down and let them help?
I can still fight. Which meant he could walk, or thought he could walk. Adrenaline pumping and bloodlust there, he could do a lot, more then he should with his body as beat up s it was. No need to pull me away. Slap some bandages on me and stay with me, we'll be fine.
Franziska shook her head, moving to straddle his hips. Let me take care of you. She growled the words, as she continued bandaging his hand. You're not allowed to ignore your injuries. She knew he could take it; after all, sometimes their foreplay was actual knives.
She pressed her hands around his newly wrapped hand, glaring down at him. You're not allowed. I need you and so does the kingdom. She grumbled at him, slapping his chest.
Get up and we'll find a healer. This is bad, even for you.
Byron squinted up at Fran, taking her hit to his chest with a grunt. Her concern still surprised him, and truthfully a small part of him still thought he still didn't deserve it. But Fran had won his heart, and he did have a kingdom to look after, even if he thought there were others better suited. So he allowed her to bandage his hand, allowed her to straddle his hips and tried to form words that she'd listen to. Which in his present state, took longer then it should have as he looked up at her, almost as if he was thinking hard on something.
Can't get up if you're still sitting on me, were not the words he had considered saying, but were the ones better said at the moment, even as he gripped one of her hands in his newly bandaged one. He hurt, but the adrenaline and more still made him feel little of it. Even if the view is rather nice down here.
Uhuh. She smirked down at him, squeezing his injured hand in hers. C'mon. She pulled him up with her, reaching to touch a cut on his face. Time to find a healer. She was adamant that he'd be seen to, and no, she wasn't going to wait in line and let everyone else be seen before him. She scoffed at the idea, already leading him in the direction of a triage tent. It was hastily made and overrun by survivors and warriors alike, but it'd do for now.
Don't need a healer. I'm fine, Fran. Were the words that he thought left his mouth as he was pulled up to his feet, slinging an arm around her. And of course, unlike her, he'd put up a fuss at being put first in line, because that was how he was. He wasn't dying, he was just mostly dead. At least so far as his old trainers and one of his now, well unfortunately, deceased, brothers would say. He could walk, talk, was coherent enough to despise fussing.
But as he walked there was a hitch to his breathing and he winced, the adrenaline slowly leaving as they approached the healer and he mumbled, low enough for hopefully only Fran to hear. Okay, so maybe it hurts a little.
Franziska glanced at him, as they walked and his breathing changed. She huffed under her breath, See? You'll be glad when we find a healer. She shoved her elbow into his side to prove her point.
Eventually, they reached a triage tent, with a mage healer. She'd ignored the triage tents with human healers. She wanted a mage to see to him.
As she helped him to sit, and watched the mage healing him with narrowed eyes, from over his shoulder, her fingers tugged at his hair. And eventually, she leaned to whisper in his ear:
