Hand holding prompt: calloused hands in soft hands
Pushing back the tent flap, the new king entered into the realm of the healers, the ones whose ranks he was never quite gifted enough to join. Though he knew which occupant he had come here to see, he stopped at any cot of an injured knight who greeted him. He offered thanks and reassurances as he made his way through the tent.
This was part of his duty, and he wouldnât let his people down. Not if he could help it.
Eventually, he arrived at the bed of a knight who lay still as death and barely breathing. A stool was tucked off to the side; he slid it into place with his foot and sat, taking the brave knightâs hand in his.
Gods, she was so cold. True, she ran cooler than him normally, but this was too much. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand and sighed: what he wouldnât give to heal her.
As he folded his other hand around hers hoping to warm her fingers, her sword calluses brushed along his palm. He marveled at the difference between them: his hands had seen more work and training than some, but in comparison--
Iâve dedicated my entire life to this, my liege. Her voice floated through his mind, a memory surfacing. My uncle was a Sentinel as well, and I began my career as his page.
Another sigh escaped. He turned her hand over in his, gingerly running his thumb along the tough skin that boasted of her years of training and skill with a blade.
I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to be your guard.
He brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead, tucking it behind her ear before gently kissing her fingers. He squeezed her hands once again, silently willing her to warm up, to open her eyes, to do anything but lay there.
A woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and impeccable posture strode into the tent, drawing his attention. She met his gaze with a raised eyebrow and nodded toward the other building on the field of battle: his planning tent.
Knowing his leisure time was over, he nodded and stood. Pausing, he bent down, stealing one more moment for himself.
âCome back to me, and soon,â he whispered in the knightâs ear. âPlease.â
He straightened, reluctantly tucking her hand under the coverlet, and with one last look at his beloved knight, strode off to meet with his advisors.
romaincrisis
annaxmalina
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
titsay
blakekathryn
