‘Today could have gone much better’, Lionel mused.

He was currently being assailed by several cloaked figures, taking cheap shots from the great heights of the pines they were traversing. And they were great heights, no doubt, the Darkwood was famed for its pine trees that towered even above mountains. He was just a bit too occupied with his current predicament to appreciate the wonders of the nature around him.

SHING

A dagger clips his thigh, and he can tell that they are gaining on him.

‘Move!’ His instincts screamed.

He moved.

Instincts screaming, he parries a dagger with the flat of his blade, before taking a sharp turn and moving into the undergrowth of the forest. The great size of the pine trees means that everything that grew underneath them did not have access to sunlight. This means less plants and more…

A giant mushroom protects him from three blades, but one of his assailants deigned to drop down and finish the job themselves. Lionel smirked.

‘Let’s dance, then.’

A dagger went for his throat instantly. Parrying with his round shield, he struck them with a side slash towards the less armoured torso.

His assailant dashed underneath, throwing a hidden dagger.

Turning his half-complete swing into a parry, he assessed their respective positions.

‘He rolled his ankle.’

Granted, the foliage is very unforgiving when stepped on, where even veterans such as himself would mistake their footing. Unfortunately, his opponent made the mistake first by placing his foot on an uneven.

That’s all he needed.

Capitalising on the second they would need to readjust, he dashed low, bringing his sword hand to the opposite shoulder, sword hanging behind his back.

Using the momentum from the dash, he swung his blade horizontally towards the enemy’s neck.

CRUNCH

The sound of a protective armament being destroyed, and the sickening sound of the opponent’s neck being crushed by the sheer impact of the slice did not dissuade him.

He drew on the wellspring inside of him and willed his blade to sever.

A blue hue gathered on the blade before the sword went clean through the neck of his enemy, decapitating them and sending their head flying into the woods.

Turning on the ball of his foot, he dashed deeper into the woods.

⌂

After what felt like several hours of running, his assailants had finally stopped. He was honestly surprised they had the energy to continue chasing a lowly knight such as himself for this long.

Taking the initiative, Lionel sat down to rest on a root of one the great pines. He let the exhaustion flow through him. He had been through too much not to warrant a rest, at least.

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And then he felt the injuries. Wracked with pain and bleeding from several places one should not be bleeding from, Lionel had to confront the very real fact that he was about to die. Not in battle, not from old age, but from bleeding.

‘The tavern bards could make a comedy out of me’ He jested in his mind. The tale of the great Lionel of Katalan! Felled not by blade or beast, but blood!

That’d get a laugh of the drunks at least.

Sighing, he accepted his final moments with the grace of a knight. Such is his duty.

…

Or it would’ve been, had he had not seen a door simply… standing there.

‘That door was not there before.’

In fact, it was like the door had appeared from thin air. Lionel had a realisation.

‘A game of the fae?’

He had heard tales of the mystical fair folk, and how they resided in the great Darkwood, tricking lost travellers and sometimes offering them freedom from their predicament.

‘Well. At best I will die, and at worst I will be the plaything of a random faerie.’

Or he could get lucky.

And Lionel liked to gamble.

Grunting, he struggled up to his feet and began walking towards the door.

He went to open it.

It remained stubbornly stuck.

‘A test of strength then?’

With no other option, Lionel took a few steps back and braced his shoulder.

He rammed the door open.

⌂

Excuse me? House? Why is there a knight at my front door? Were you always able to close doors on your own? Are you alive, house?

We make eye contact. He points a sword at me. I look at the sword.

“Identify yourself, stranger. I do not wish to play these games.”

Wait that’s an actual sword. Like, it’s pointy and sharp and metal. And looks like it’d hurt.

“Identify yourself or-”

I snap back to reality because is that blood!? I go to assist him.

“Halt! Do not come any-”

“Shut up, you are bleeding, let me help.”

Wow that is a lot of blood.

“I do not need assistance from a fae, I can manage myself-”

“I am not a fae what are you talking about? Look let me just-”

I put the fallen chair upright and try to hoist him up.

‘Armour heavy. Of course, the armour is heavy.’

New plan.

“Look, take off your armour, I should have a first aid kit in the bathroom… somewhere. I’ll go get it.”

I do not let him answer because I have a first aid kit to find!

⌂

By the time I get back he is in the middle of taking his armour off and what I see does not give me much hope for him.

Under the chainmail is a compression shirt covered in lacerations and rips, with blood pouring out of him at an alarming rate.

New New plan then!

I hoist him up and with some effort I get him to lie on the couch.

“Alright so if you could take your shirt off that would be great, are there any wounds that I can’t see right now?”

What I remember from that first aid course was very little, I mostly remember CPR, how to use a tourniquet, how to wrap a bandage, all the practical stuff basically. I’d have to hope that was enough for the mess this guy found himself in.

“I have some cuts on my leg. Not too high priority, however.” He said while taking off his shirt.

‘Oh my god he’s hot.’

I slap my cheeks because Bad Finn! No gawking at the body of the man you are trying not to let bleed to death!

“R-Right- So I haven’t done this much so the bandaging will be amateur, but you are going to have to trust me on this. After I’m done, I’ll get you to show me the lower priority injuries.”

“Alright.”

‘Calm down, Finn. You know what to do.’

Time to get to work.

⌂

By the time I’m done the first aid kit has almost run out of bandages. He was really injured, and I wasn’t risking using too little bandages for his cuts. He said he could do tend to the superficial injuries himself, so I trust him to.

I scamper off to my room to consult Wumby. Surely, he could help me figure out what the fuck is happening right now! Totally not running away from the attractive person on my couch, nope, not at all.

Midway on the stairs, I hear him call out.

“Where may I wash myself? I would hate to stink the place up with blood.”

‘Oh my god’

I forgot to tell him where the bathroom is.

“It’s down the hallway under the stairs! First door on your left.”

He grunts in assent, and I resume my escape-

My retreat. I am tactically retreating.

I try not to slam the door.

My eyes skip over the right side of the room, and I jump onto my side of the bed and start hugging Wumby. It is taking everything in my body not to scream into him. Because there are guests in the house, and it would be weird.

In my defence, I didn’t expect the hottest man I’ve seen in my life to just waltz into the pocket-realm-dimension-void-house thing I’ve found myself in. Because that sentence is normal.

‘Please tell me he didn’t see me gawking at him. That is all I ask.’

Well, a man can pray.