Page 45 of Bred By Fafnir

twenty-nine

Lenora

I’m grateful for my mate and Ogarrex finding a hunting sled for me versus having to walk all the way from the house to the village’s hub. The journey takes the better part of an hour, heavily pregnant and the exhaustion I suddenly feel must show on my face. I fuss a little, for show, but I am definitely not at my best today.

A sharp pain in my side only further ratchets up my pounding heart, anxiety riding me hard as I call out for them to stop just outside the twin rock glaciers leading into the circular opening. Fafnir gives me a questioning look from atop Valoryx, who is thankfully being oh so very careful with his deathtrap tail, where the leads to the sled are attached to the thick spikes like a multi-looped harness.

“I want to walk from here,” I offer, trying not to grunt as I struggle to get myself standing.

His eyes shine with as much pride as they do disapproval. The giant horned man is at my side before I can wobble far, leering like always. I don’t shoo him today, but press myself closer, letting him help me into the clearing. It was shocking at first, relating this place to the one I witnessed during the start of winter when I arrived. Where it was desolate before, it’s a frenzy now. Loud drinking, plates piled high of food that never seem to end, rich colored fabrics, and finely carved wares being traded at little booths set around the clearing.

Elat sees me from hers, waving happily, where she makes the prettiest handmade brushes and fine, wooden dyed jewelry. Of which, thanks to Fafnir, I have an expansive collection now. I want for nothing and have so much more than I ever thought possible. Is that terribly selfish, to want just a little more?

Is it selfish to ask him to run with me?

Knowing how it would wound him, dismantle his honor, his pride… knowing if I only asked, he would say yes.

It seems unfair.

But so does everything else about this too.

My entire life seems unfair. Poverty just because I am human. Selling myself off to be bred because there are no proper opportunities for us. Dad taking his own life because his future looked so bleak, him leaving Mom to wipe the gore from the walls in his shed, leaving us to pick up the pieces of our family. Finding everything I never knew I wanted right before I lose all of it.

My heart is beating so fast that my head feels faint as we enter the large building that makes up the very lifeblood of this place. Helgoid sits on her chair at the head of the table whittling something and my stomach lets off another ungodly spasm. The baby has been quiet today, the last few really, but the healer assured us everything is fine. He is simply running out of room.

I decide then I don’t care if it's selfish.

I don’t care what I’m asking for or if it’stoo much.

For once, I’m going to have my cake and eat it too.

“Fafnir, Lenora.” She greets us, rising from her spot, a faint but fond smile on her face. I wonder how long it will last. Outward affection, or any affection at all, isn’t something frowned upon per se for the Bhaurnul people, but they give it sparingly. It makes it feel so much more special, genuine.

“Elder Helgoid,” Fafnir greets.

There’s a ringing in my ears as Ogarrex joins us in front of her. Her fond smile turns to a frown.

“Something has happened?” She questions, pulling her aged hands behind her back.

“No- well, not really. I—" I stumble over my words for a moment before pulling in a deep breath. Only Fafnir’s and Ogarrex’s support making the next few flow smoothly. “Helgoid, I have spent the last year working with a renowned Kalzait Doctor—"

She steps forward, placing her hands on my stomach, worry clear in her eyes. “Are you well? The healer said it has been a difficult pregnancy by human standards, but the kit is—"

I place my hand over hers, her eyes widening as the baby gives a little shove against our palms. “We arefine. More than fine, really, and so are Fafnir and Ogarrex because of the work we’ve been doing.”

It’s like someone clicks a button, flips some kind of switch, and I try not to take it personally as she withdraws her hands, glaring at Ogarrex. “You are war touched.” It’s an accusation.

He only nods, leaving me to explain.

Lovely.

Everything that leaves me next comes out a little too fast, a little too rushed in my breathless state, but my hands are shaking. My wholebody is tense and uncomfortable. It feels like someone is twisting a blade in my side. I do my best to ignore that. One train wreck at a time. “We, with his help, have been studying the effects and possible treatment of war madness—"

“You cannot treat war madness.” She cuts me off, taking a step back as if I’ve said something entirely ridiculous. I assume to her it is.

Dread builds deep in my gut, souring my breakfast. “But youcan. You’re looking at the evidence of that. Fafnir should be beyond reach by now. He is not because we have a treatment plan and it’s working for him. For themboth.It can work for others too. War madness is not a disease of the spirit or body, it’s an affliction of themind. Trauma brought on by war.”

“Stop.” She breathes.

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