Weeewwwww original content! I changed my mind on how this was gonna end since writing the A/N, so this might not be all that short - I have a set piece to write out today, and that'll be this technically done, but I do have ideas for continuation if people like this and want more.
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-and Will was tiring.
It was as the blade came close enough to Will that he could practically taste the steel he realised he was going to die. MacHaddish was mere seconds from penetrating Will's throat with the deadly tongue of metal, and from there he was moments from suffocating on his own blood as the Scotti twisted the dirk into his neck before leaving him to die alone in the snow.
Or perhaps MacHaddish would stay for those extra seconds, to watch the light flood from Will's eyes. Perverse as it sounds, Will truely wished the Scotti would stay with him, so he wouldn't have to leave this world completely alone.
Will didn't want to die.
Not like this.
As a final last ditch attempt to at-least slow his demise until Horace could intervene - was Horace coming? Did he even know anything was wrong? - Will bucked upwards with the fervour of a man dying, his knee connecting with the Scotti's crotch. The General winced and reared upwards just a few centimetres, for only a few seconds, but it was all Will needed.
He tore his left hand from MacHaddish's wrist in a move any trained fighter would call stupid and gripped the tip of blade bending it to the side, and immediately drawing blood in his palm. He knew his hand could not hold the dirk back like this, at all, but if he could throw off the trained killer's aim, perhaps he would survive the inevitable thrust that would overpower his weakened defences and end his short life.
Being left disfigured was still being left alive. What was a hand to his life?
The northern general sneered something in his language response, likely something along the lines of "that won't save you", before re-applying the downward pressure on the thin blade. For a moment, Will's right hand stalled the weapon's movement and his left hand remained unmarred, but it did not last.
Will screamed as the dirk sliced through his palm, the razor-sharp steel splicing his skin, muscles, and Will would swear he felt to click of a bone yielding to the metal tongue with little effort from the greased man above him.
Horace, if you're coming, let it be now.
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Battle with MacHaddish
FanfictionThat one scene where Will fights with MacHaddish in the snow and is saved my Horace, seconds under the wire. But this time, it goes... a little differently~ - I do not own any of these characters -
