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Blood dribbles out from a meaty, blood kissed gash on your side. It was trouble enough without with the pressure almost mimicking a vacuum sensation in its attempt to seal your wound. Your brain pulses with every dragging motion of your foot across unfamiliar English land. Unluckily for you, you were be settled with Hvitserk's portion of the army that all but was wiped out.
"Come here (Y/N)." Hvitserk says, having caught the spillage of blood over your dirty fingertips.
"Oh fuck off, I don't need your help. This is your fault." You grumble past him, your red and black shield tipping you in the direction that you held it in.
"How is this my fault? Ivar–" He starts to lean in your direction.
"Did more than you." You snark back at him. Drunken steps take you in the other direction towards the midline of the road. Your shield thrust into the plentiful earth, abruptly breathing heavily in and out. The road ahead of you stretched into the dark skies.
His shoulders tightens and he trudges forth, bending down at the knees to scoop you up into his arms. Instantaneously, you reach to shove him by his chin. Your bloodied hands scratch at his slight mustache, kicking out in his arms.
"Put... put me down! Are you insane? Do you want to fight?" You snarl out. Hvitserk's head leans away from the way of your flying fists out towards him.
"(Y/N)! Stay still." He grunts. "You'll bleed out and never reach Valhalla."
Your hand abruptly stops on his adam's apple, squinting your eyes tight at the older of the two Ragnarssons you knew. "I hate you."
"I know." He stops, looking down into your eyes. "And the gods have made me love you."
