A Lore Guardian's Love

[FennWenn]

If there was one thing Fenn had not expected out of this mess, it was to be swept away from town in the arms of the Saberlioness.

He had been close, so close, to meeting the ice master he had heard about. For a brief moment, the man had even stood before him. Tall and scarred, brawny, the godslayer stood above the chaos with unruffled calm. Unfortunately, blank-eyed boy still stood stricken by the aftermath of the brutal battle just moments before. Hands clasped to his mouth, eyes wide, he stared at the bodies and debris littering the square. Numbness crept into his mind. Apparently, fate thought it hilarious to keep shoving dead people in his face. A little senseless, Fenn thought vacantly. And so red. Why so much blood?

If he wasn't so preoccupied with holding himself together against the sad scenery around him, he might have reached out to the godly man and asked for the teaching he’d come here for in the first place. Instead...

“As you wish,” came Myra's resigned growl, breaking into Fenn’s thoughts, “but this lively one comes with me.”

Strong arms scooped him up off the bloody streets. Ignoring his squeak of shock, she slung him over her shoulder as if he were no more than a sack of flour. That snapped Fenn to alertness. Wait! No- the ice master! Waaaiiit! Dinky arms waved with all of the urgency the tiny fae could muster. But the ice master didn't seem to catch his frantic gestures. And thus, he was whisked away without a chance to do what he can come here for in the first place.

Myra was lost in a mix of endearment (towards the tiny Fae) and simmering anger (at the attack? Or at her banishment?), and she didn't pay any heed to Fenn’s resistance either. Perhaps she didn't even notice. Her grip was strong and smothering, and the frail Fae couldn't seem to loosen it no matter how he struggled. He considered forcibly breaking her grip with a concentrated burst of frost, but for the life of him, he couldn't quite bring himself to harm her. They had fought and danced together, after all. The guardian dancer left the damaged village without a glance back, swift on the heels of her scattered entourage. A few minutes out of galloping through thickets of twisting firs and gracefully nipping over roots hidden by snow passed as Fenn mulled over his precarious present predicament.

Daugi was not going be happy that he vanished on her, the fae realized with a winced pang of trepidation. What did Myra even want him for? They had a dance it had been great, and now… what? He couldn't think of a good reason as to why she had stolen him so. More dancing? Dammit. For one reason or another, Fenn had been kidnapped once or twice before; at least this time it was being done by someone who wasn’t inclined towards causing him harm.

And it would be better to keep it that way. Perhaps he could mount an escape later, but for now, he was caged within her arms.

Fenn frowned and placed a hand on his chin, his eyelids fluttering a bit. If he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was just being hauled around by Daugi. The familiar rocking motion of the bounding Myra’s bounding reminded him of how worn he was from all his earlier exertion. It wasn’t very long before he drifted off into a troubled slumber. For once, his sleep was blessedly devoid of dreams, a respite from all the chaos and carnage he had been witness to today.