Lenora sleeps like the cursed, but slightly less so tonight. I’d like to delude myself into thinking it’s because, early on, after her eyelids finally gave up the fight on her sleep, she’d shifted toward me. Her head landing on my stomach soon after. I ignored the murmurs and stares, used to them, but knowing this time it was for a different reason entirely. The males’ eyes shone with confusion, anger, and envy. Our females, our people, are not an affectionate kind. We don’t… snuggle or lie upon each other in this way, unless it is to couple.
The females looked on curiously, some with barely restrained fear, the smell of it unsettling the mounts. They looked down on my human, cuddled up next to me, fast asleep, as if she were no more than a kit and I were no more than a Glacivyr. A long, iridescent ice serpent, highly venomous, highly aggressive as it slinks through the snow. Sometimes taking out herds of prey, one to ten, without ever being seen.
If I am every bit as dangerous as a Glacivyr, then they should think twice about the way they stare at her. The males should not linger, huddling together, plotting, puffing their chests. Not even the stories of our gods, of our people, had stopped the thread of unease filtering through the air.
“You did the harder thing.”
Her words filter around me, wiping away most of the red threatening to take my vision. Easing the rage seething in my chest as it claws its violent ascent up my throat. Her delicate form and the stunning swell of her curves hidden beneath a thick pile of furs, perhaps more than she needed at first. Now she lies against me, warm, safe, dusted by the first snow. Most others long departed for their homes after the first light. She’s… consuming.
I had thought it was because she was small and delicate, then because she was to bear my young, war madness after that, I had thought of everything to explain the scorching affection I feel for her. The warring desire to keep her hidden and tucked away, but also to show her off. To bellow her name from the highest mountain so that the world around might know that she is mine and mine alone.
But she’s not mine.
She can’t be.
It will be a fate crueler than she deserves.
I’m lost in my thoughts when the sound of approaching hooves hits me. My head doesn’t snap up, but finds the source with a lethal, disciplined fluidity. The same male who attempted to take her favor strides up to me with all the misplaced confidence of a new warrior straight from the training field. My female rustles, his self-assured stomping putting an end to her rest.
I hadn’t been done watching her. Red filters in my vision once again. I know what’s coming.
Why he’s here.
What he intends to do, to say.
Why there is a group of males waiting just around the community building and why they waited for the rest of the crowd to disperse before they gathered.
I can’t even fault them for it.
But I will kill them either way.
Lenora shifts, sucking in a slow steady breath as she stretches, not unlike her new pet, Valoryx. I let out a call, summoning him. His savage warning snarl is enough to wipe off her lingering dregs of sleep.
“Fafnir, I challenge you.” The male booms, but my attention is on her again.
“Faf?” Her upturned, sleepy eyes darting between him and me.
“By reason of dejected honor, I challenge you to a death battle.” He continues.
Yes, you challenge me, but you have brought help. I all but roll my eyes, something I picked up from my female.
“Wait, you can’t do that. For what reason? If it’s over me, then you can shove your challenge up your—’
She yelps as I lift from the ground, taking her with me, a chill overcoming her as she’s exposed to the wind. I pay it no mind, or her fighting me as I hoist her onto the back of Valoryx. “I will be home shortly.”
“He can’t do that!”
“He can.”
He’s not wrong to.
But I am going to be selfish, at least for a little while longer.
“Take her home,” I command Valoryx in my native language, turning away from Lenora as he bounds away, ignoring her commands and threats.
“Fafnir! You better not be late. I don’t know how to work your food replicator, stupid, stupid, giant male.” Her voice shakes, but she is strong. So strong.
A smirk fills my face as I let the berserker take over, her words making him come in shunted, jolting slashes. I want to wait until she’s out of sight. I try, but he doesn’t care. With no warning, decorum, or strategy, I lunge forward, my grip tightening on the male’s jaw. His eyes widen, realizing his mistake a second too late. The powerful stampede of hooves on frozen ground fills the air, but they will not reach us in time.
Tendon and flesh rip as I pull his jaw free from the rest of him, before striking him with it, making quick work of the dispatching blow. My female is hungry, and she doesn’t know how to work the food replicator. The other males collide against me, hoof, fist, and savagery that lights every inch of my being. I want to revel in it, to draw it out and make a point. My dam steps into the falling snow, but I pay her no mind, giving into the war madness, trusting it will part when it’s time.
My hand grips the spear at my back, creating enough distance to pull it free. This needs to be quick. I have better places to be. A female to care for, a pretty bull-headed human to breed. Whether I am worthy of such a privilege or not, she will writhe under me. I will be the only one privy to her soft whimpers and flushed cheeks as she takes my cocks and seed.
Lenora
I pace in front of Fafnir’s house, Valoryx sharing none of my anxiety for the well-being of his master. He was challenged, for what I’m not positive, but it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure it out. A chill runs up the length of my spine. The fact that Old Earth used to let other humans perform surgery on them is nearly as disturbing as the faint roars in the distance. Will they hurt him? Kill him? What happens to me then? I mean, my family has already been paid, but I don’t really want to be cast off into space without direction, or even worse, passed around here. That’s what I tell myself. This sick roiling in my gut is born from self-preservation. I’m worried about myself.
It’s only slightly true.
The idea… the mere thought of Fafnir being hurt is enough to turn my blood to ice. I couldn’t give a fuck less what they say about him. If what he did was wrong or right, or if his mind is troubled… Fafnir is good. He cares for the Sihlih, offers them secret adoring smiles and soft scratches when he thinks no one is looking. Fafnir got me special boots because he didn’t want to hurt my feet. He respects his people, cares for them, fought for them, and they turned their backs. Still, he cares. Still, he would fight.
He’s fighting now for me.
My pacing falters, making Valoryx’s enormous head pop up regarding me for a minute, as if he’s worried I’ll bolt. I won’t. Fafnir is coming back. I can feel it as surely as I can feel the chill worming its way to my bones, but that’s not what’s bothering me.
War Madness. Fafnir said it was a disease, but what if it’s not?
Young males are forced to contract themselves out for war from a very early age, knowing from childhood that there’s a higher chance of them dying than coming home. What would that do to someone’s mind? War Madness comes on quickly, but only after they return, right? Only after they fight. My brows are furrowed, eyes narrow and unseeing on the snow dusted ground, only vaguely aware of the mixed fat, almost blue-green tinged flakes joining the others.
Dad had a disease of the mind, and it cared little for waiting for one thing or the other. It took him fully. They called it Alzheimer’s. It sounded horrible; he wasn’t interested in sticking around to find out just how horrible it could get.
He did what he did. As much as I’d tried to hate him for it, he never stopped being a good person either, just colder. Harder. His warm smiles and boisterous laugh traded for tense silence. He always looked as if he were bracing for a blow he couldn’t dodge. So much like Fafnir. I don’t get long to stand there and sort through my thoughts, to weigh the facts against hairbrained, wishful thinking. To analyze why my heart sank when Fafnir confirmed I wasn’t his fated mate, or how that all really worked. I mean, the mere thought of it had sent me into a full-blown panic attack less than a week ago. So much has changed in a few days. Dusting my hands of the whys and hows and chalking it up to fate would be so much easier to swallow.
When Valoryx gets to his clawed feet, staring off into the distance, my heart launches to my throat. He lets out a harsh call, seeming excited, and my hand is suddenly shaking as I let it sink into the fur of his mane.
