Spearing the Dragon

ONE

ANTARES SYSTEM, 2225
The sweet sounds of birds singing, a waterfall somewhere in the distance, and the wind brushing through the trees filled his senses like a drug, beneath it all the essence of Fae that he inhaled like immortal perfume. He felt a gentle touch on his cheek like the wings of a faerie, soaking in the ambience provided only while he slept.
    Lillevenn woke refreshed, if not slightly intoxicated, on his couch where he slept more often than not. The bed in the bedroom felt cold, hemmed in by four metal walls. He didn't know why the receiving room was different, but then again he did know. This is where she visited him, the Fae maiden who brought with her all the ecstasies of nature he now craved like an alcoholic craved a drop of watered down beer.
    He knew he should question how one of such a venerated race had gotten aboard the Freyja, and furthermore, why she would visit one so low on the elemental food chain as him. He would think it his loneliness and desperation for nature that brought on the encounters, but no amount of imagination could bring on the glory of a true Fae encounter, and he had never been particularly creative.
    He should fight them, he'd told himself countless times over the last six months since he'd been on the ship; but every time he was in that state, and the scents and sounds filled his senses, he could only drink them in. At this point, he categorized it as an addiction, and addictions were never healthy. He didn't know why she would keep returning. She had delivered her message the first time; but after a few weeks, when he was at his lowest point, she returned to his night visions. He'd never imagined the Fae to be a particularly compassionate race, so overruled the possibility that his ever-increasing depression had brought her back.
    Day by day, it seemed, Earth sent more ships that quickly became their armada, stationed over his home planet Naarheim, where his grandmother, Hel, the queen of the underworld, reigned. He wasn't sure how the ship operators had convinced Midgard that a war approached them, since he knew mortals to be stubborn creatures who wouldn't do what was best for them even when given irrevocable proof. Perhaps Midgard had grown over the years, and they had believed the accounts of Commander Brandt, and his Chief of Operations Varanger.
    Lillevenn had been a consultant for the past few months, telling the engineers which form of weapons would defend them. In truth, all he knew was from his grandmother. She said the frost giants were the biggest threat, but she had been telling him old tales about them for millennia, so he wasn't sure if her fears could be substantiated. He did not feel he was a very good consultant; Hel would have been better, since she had seen the giants in person. He knew their realm, Jotunheim, was not space-worthy, but the elves were.
    From his interactions with the Fae maiden and her mention of a "daughter of darkness," he could assume the Dokkalfar had sided with Hel and Midgard, though such a thing seemed inconceivable to Lillevenn. The "dark" elves had cared little for mortals, even to subjugate them seemed worth more time than they were willing to devote. Countless stories told of the Dokkalfar's mischief on the people of Midgard, but none spoke of their desire to eradicate them.  
They seemed content to live in their underground palaces, though some of them did heed the call to aid both the Aesir and Ljosalfar at Ragnarok.
    Lillevenn assumed some of them had escaped the war between the gods and the Jotun, supposedly led by his great-grandfather, but he had doubts there. Most hailed Odin and his Aesir as the heroes in every story, and Loki as the adversary. He was suspicious of any race purported as "good" or "evil." In his experience, most were both, or neither, just individuals making decisions for their own benefit.
    "Why do you keep visiting me?" he asked into the silence, knowing he wouldn't receive an answer, not during his waking hours. She only came to him in dreams. Every morning he woke after her visitation, the metal of the ship nearly crushed his spirit.
    The plants that had mysteriously appeared in his receiving room had vanished a few weeks after. He told himself someone had come to service them, and just never brought them back. He'd never been one to lie to himself, but he'd been doing quite a bit of that since coming aboard this ship.

Lillevenn returned to his suite after a full day of meetings with the executive staff regarding the outfitting of the armada before slowing to a stop. Ingrid sat on the floor, drawing something on a pad, something like a long planter behind her. He walked up to her, looking down into the planter filled three-quarters of the way with dirt. She looked up at him.
    "For you to grow vegetables instead of eating from the mess," she explained and he lowered a fond gaze to her.
    "Did you pull this in here yourself?"
    She returned to her pad. "I had help," she said ominously. "You could have another one brought in if you wanted to plant flowers, and put it right up against that wall, beside the couch."
    He smiled. "You've put some thought into this."
    "I'm a child on a spaceship. I've got the time."
    He sat down on the couch beside where she sat on the floor, sketching, he realized.
    "Did you bring in the potted plants that showed up on the first day?"
    "You think I could have brought all that in?"
    He raised an eyebrow. "Or got someone to help you."
    "They were dying, so I told some servicemen to take them out. For being an elemental, you don't really know how to take care of growing things."
    He smiled. "They require water and sunlight to grow."
    "Yes, these shipboard plants do better in the arboretum."
    His spirits lifted immediately. "There's an arboretum on board?"
    "Yes," she answered without inflection. "I can take you there tomorrow. We can ask the attendants about what to put in the soil to grow your own vegetables."
    "We?" he asked with a smile in his eyes. She blinked up at him.
    "You need me to find it. Although, with those antlers, they might arrange for a triumphant entry."
    She looked back down at her project and he smiled impishly at her dry sense of humor. He leaned back against his couch.
    "You're not getting a crush on me, are you?"
    She cleared her throat, but it sounded more bored than uncomfortable.
    "You're a little tall." He chuckled. "I told you, I'm just looking for things to do. On the moon, there were other children I could play with, and more open spaces. It's all different here."
    He sobered. "Have you thought about what's going to happen when you get back to Earth?"
    "Evidently, that won't be for awhile, with this war and all."
    He studied her stoic features, unable to read anything from her even tone.
    "How does that make you feel? The war?"
    "You sound like my brain doctor."
    "I guess I do. Well, what do you think about it?"
    "I think being on board this ship is killing you and you're wasting your potential as a consultant."
    He looked at her curiously before his gaze sharpened.
    "You sure you're eleven?"
    "For the time being."
    "It's going to be your birthday soon?"
    She raised dead serious eyes to him that almost seemed scolding.
    "I said I would help, Ingrid. I didn't say I felt up to the task—"
    "You are more than up to the task, when there's something to actually be done. Until the fighting starts, you're just withering away in this tin can. I have noticed a few things the last six months, Lillevenn. You don't belong here. And you know it."
    His expression lightened. "Harsh."
    She lowered her eyes to the drawing pad.
    "I'm just saying the truth."
    "Well, what do you suggest?"
    She raised those serious honey eyes to him.
    "You would listen to a child?"
    "I've been listening for half a year, haven't I? Have I tried to treat you like a child since we met?"
    Her eyes studied him. "No. But that doesn't mean you're about to start taking strategy from me. You could just be coddling me."
    He gave her a look. "And you say you've been paying attention."
    "I said I noticed a few things," she said matter-of-factly, and he smiled.
    "Well, you should know I don't do coddling."
    "We don't know each other that well yet."
    The sharp look returned to his eyes. "Hmm."    She kept his eye contact, her way of telling him to expound, a curiously adult tactic. "I think you know more than you're telling."
    She looked back down. "A girl has to have some secrets."
    He smiled. "I wouldn't mind if you had a crush on me."
    "Eww." He laughed. "Those stories weren't kidding about you satyr folk."
    He nudged her with a foot. "I didn't mean like that, pervert." He thought he saw a whisper of a smile. "I'm much safer than any boy would be."
    She gave him an unconvinced look that made him laugh in his throat. He raised his hands.
    "I don't do virgins."
    "I'm sure you've had plenty of nymphs."
    "Who weren't anything close, trust me." He saw amusement in her eyes before she returned to sketching. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out why you're doing all these nice things. For someone you don't know that well."
    "You're very suspicious," she said without looking up.
    "Children have never warmed to me."
    "I'm not like most children, am I?"
    "No, that's why I thought there was something more going on."
    She looked at him with a hint of fatigue in her eyes.
    "So you think the only reason a child would want to be around you is if she had feelings for you?" She shook her head. "You immortals are so full of yourself."
    "Well, naturally."
    She gave him a look. "I find your company engaging. I mean, you have antlers on your head. What child wouldn't be curious?"
    The suspicion returned to his gaze.
    "You don't seem very curious. You seem much older than eleven. If I didn't know better..."
    She lowered her gaze to the picture she sketched.
    "Maybe I'm a changeling who snuck aboard."
    "That's not funny," he said in a grave tone and she laughed. He raised an eyebrow at the serious girl's laughter. She dropped her pencil.
    "Oh, Lillevenn..."
    He leaned back on the couch, sulking.
    "They're very dangerous." She laughed more. "I'm serious!"
    "I know, that's why I'm laughing. Have you ever seen a changeling or are you just believing silly stories?"
    He sat up. "Well, no, I haven't, but faeries are real, horrible monsters—" Her laugh into her hand cut him off and he glared at her. "It's true!"
    "Are they the same as elves?"
    "I don't know, I didn't get a chance to ask the last elf I met."
    She continued drawing. "A beautiful female elf you whisked off her feet?"
    He frowned. "Elves aren't like that. They are venerated, even holy, creatures. You're thinking about sprites, or even faeries. Bunch of whores—"  She choke-laughed into her hand and he shrugged. "Sorry. Promiscuous imps."
    She smiled. "What makes elves so special?"
    "They are...the highest form of Fae. Healers, guides, prophets...graceful, powerful, ethereal..."
    She smiled up at him. "You're drooling."
    He wiped his face, making her laugh.
    "Am not." She laughed more. He sighed. "It's just that...they are unlike any other species in the nine realms. Once you've seen one, you'll know."
She lowered her eyes to her project, but with a pleasant face.
    "You met one?"
    "Two, I think, but I only saw the face of the female. It was outside a drinkery, a cold and rainy night. I'd had a bit too much to drink, and left the place. I asked this couple what time it was. They were wearing hoods, naturally, with the ghastly weather. When she looked at me, I knew. Everything stopped. Her face...it wasn't the type of beauty Midgard knows. It wasn't the type of beauty I had known.
    "But I suddenly felt like I was in the presence of something holy. Those eyes of hers looked straight through me. I couldn't even tell you what color they were. I only remember the power. She said, 'Careful, son of Loki, watch your feet on these slippery streets.' And then they disappeared into the crowd."
    Ingrid watched his face by this time. He shook his head, looking down at his hands.
    "I remember thinking why one such as her would even speak to me. I was a nothing, not even Loki's direct descendant. Drunk besides. I felt filthy afterwards, as though everything I'd done was nothing compared to her. It changed me." Her eyes softened on him and he shook his head. "I don't know why one of them would come to me, the way she did, my first day here."
    "Maybe you weren't just out for a drink that night."
    He looked at her curiously. "You mean you think it was a planned meet?"
    "Elves are mysterious creatures, from what I've read. Maybe she was trying to tell you something."
    He stared into space and she rose from her place on the floor, touching his shoulder before she left his suite. He didn't look up at her departure.

Lillevenn woke in the forest. Everything seemed soft and out of focus, telling him this was a dream. He felt grass and dirt underneath him, embracing him. It was the same as the other dreams. He heard the birds and the flowing of some brook, felt himself become rejuvenated just soaking it all in. When she appeared beside him, his heart nearly stopped, since he hadn't seen her since that first night when she'd delivered her message.
    Her beauty seemed to suck the air from his lungs, and all he could do was stare. Her soft, golden brown hair fell over her shoulders in waves, her powerful, equally soft eyes he couldn't tell the color of looked down at him with kindness that penetrated his heart. She lifted a hand and brushed his hair from his face, the soft touch like a hummingbird's wings. She leaned down, her lips lightly touching his, certain his heart stopped this time. She leaned back from him and all he could do was stare at her.
    "There is beauty in darkness as well, son of Loki," she whispered before he awoke falling from his couch.