the-king-of-arendelle:

   He could feel the blood gurgling up from his throat. The burn of the wound, the sting as his wife was pressing a cloth against it, trying to make it stop. But he knew, and she knew despite her words, that there wasn’t much time for him at all.

   ”L-listen to me, love. You have to go, you have to go and take—- take the children and run. Leave me here, I—-” and a terrible hiss left his bloody teeth, “—-I don’t—- have much time now. We don’t have much time.” 

   "No, no, sweetheart, don’t talk that way,“ she was saying, her voice as frantic as her movements. They always said to put pressure on the wound, and that was what she was doing. But her instinct was telling her to follow her husband’s instructions to save their children. 

   A choked sob left her lips as she lent down over him. Bent double, and covered in his blood. 

   "I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, moving to cup his face, brush the stray hair away. “I can’t lose you, Agdar, I can’t. Please don’t leave me. I need you.”