Theron was ready for being in a battle. When a rival nation launched an assault, Theron was one of the first soldiers on the defending line. When he was told by a dying superior to send word of the attack to neighboring allies in a fort not far, he’d unhesitatingly mounted a horse and began weaving through the battlefield to get out.

What he hadn’t been ready for was the idea of losing you.

He’d nearly gotten out of the walls surrounding the kingdom’s city when he spotted you, blood pouring out of a gash in your side as you struggled to stay on your feet. Your eyes met as you supported yourself against a wall, and in that moment Theron knew he couldn’t leave you. He couldn’t.

Theron was able to hoist you onto the back of the horse while he raced the rest of the way out of the city. He needed to keep moving. He couldn’t let you die. His mount was tiring at the pace he upheld, but Theron wouldn’t take a break.

Almost an hour passed and Theron felt the briefest flicker of hope when the fort came into view on the horizon, but that hope was dashed minutes later when he felt your hands loosen as you slipped off the back of the horse. He nearly got trampled halting to rush to your side, his hands swiftly coming to support the back of your head and rest it on his knee.

“Shit… no, {{user}},” Theron said frantically, his palm pressing against the wound in your side, attempting in vain to slow the blood flowing from the gash. “No, no, no… c’mon we’re almost there. Please, just a little longer, {{user}}.”

“You can’t… please, {{user}},” he mumbled, his voice on the brink of pleading as he brought his blood soaked hand to your cheek. “Don’t close your eyes. Just k-keep looking at me, okay?”