Spearing the Dragon

TWO

Ingrid Dokkdottir awoke with a sigh, laying her hand on her chest, perfect peace resting over her in a golden sheen. She recalled every detail, his beautiful face in the afternoon sun, how peaceful he looked before he opened those gorgeous moss-colored eyes and gazed up at her as none had in real life. She remembered the feel of his lips against hers, wanting more, always so much more, but forced herself to lean back from him.
    She could only be in his mind for a short time before he would see through the glamour, even in the dream state. She shouldn't have kissed him, she knew that, just like she knew she shouldn't be in his dreams at all, or even in his life. She had never been able to resist temptation, and there had been so little of it on that dreary moon. She never imagined she would meet an elemental on the cold ship that was now her home, much less one of his bloodline.
    There had been no one on the moon who could meet her needs, none she wanted to visit. She'd barely had the strength to give the lieutenant commander the illusion of seeing three little girls instead of just one, so that she would take her with her from the terrible moon. All the settlers had minds of metal, all full of mundane concerns, digging this trench or patching that roof, none that could revitalize her.
    She'd sensed the immortal blood the moment they entered the Antares system. It had been nearly unbearable, feeling those similar to her kind, at least more similar than the dull Midgardians, and being unable to connect with their minds. She required vicinity to visit someone's mind. When she felt Lillevenn's presence, it had been all she could do not to attack him in the corridor. As it was, she had revealed herself, a foolish thing to do. If she were any less powerful, he would have seen through her glamour.
    At first, she had only joined with him to give him the encouragement he needed, but being inside his mind had been like taking a drug she hadn't even known existed, like languishing in a forest at the height of Spring. His energy satisfied her to a degree comparable to ecstasy, something she'd never felt in anyone's mind. He called to her Fae blood, his mind a haven of rivers, ancient oaks, and green, so green.
    She sensed that he, too, received pleasure from their interactions, that he needed her as much as she needed him. She was no longer certain if she came to him for his pleasure or hers. Feeling the way he soaked up her energy gave her as much pleasure as feasting on his. But she had gone too far. She now ventured into his sleep every other night, and the kiss had placed her at a greater risk than before. Intimacy held emotion, at least among her kind, and emotion weakened her glamour.

Ingrid sat on her bed, reading, before bed when her door slid open. Her breath caught at the sight of Lillevenn storming inside, grateful she wore the glamour at all times now. His features were drawn, almost panicked. She dropped her book on her lap.
    "You are connected to her somehow, aren't you?" She saw the desperation in his eyes, unable to keep the tenderness from hers. "She sent you to me, didn't she? Why? It makes sense now, that you're not the average child...gods, you're not actually a changeling, are you..."
    "Lillevenn, take a breath. You're sounding crazy—"
    "Don't you think I know that?" He ran a hand through that hair she had touched in the dream state, only an hour ago. He turned away from her, shaking his head. "I'm going crazy, her Fae magic is making me crazy..."
    "You are not mortal, Lillevenn. It wouldn't affect you like that."
    He stared at her for a moment.
    "You're not Midgardian, are you? Or she's chosen you...they haven't chosen a mortal to speak for them in...millennia..."
    "Tens of thousands of millennia," she said matter-of-factly. He sat on her bed, softening her composure. His harried features only increased her feelings of guilt. Fae magic wouldn't affect him this way, but an elf draining his energy would...I have given as much as I have taken, haven't I? He shook his head, staring into space.
    "Maybe you're right, maybe it's this place. I don't belong on this ship, I need streams and trees..."
    "It rejuvenates you, doesn't it, your time with her?" she asked hopefully. He released a breath.
    "When I wake up, the cold metal rushes in on me and...it's heavenly when I'm sleeping. Sometimes I wish I could stay there...but I know where that leads. It's become like..."
    "An addiction," she said in a voice of dread. He moved closer to her, taking her arm, Ingrid forcing herself to concentrate with the scent of his powers invading her senses at this proximity.
    "Does she speak to you, too? Does she appear in your dreams?"
    "Oh, Lillevenn," she whispered, an emotional tone for her. He took his hand away and she both welcomed and dreaded his distance.
    "I've really lost it, haven't I? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come here like this—"
    She rested a hand on his arm.
    "You can come visit me, Lillevenn. We're friends, after all." The word tasted like iron in her mouth, and she had no one to blame but herself. He nodded.
    "I don't like people to see me like this, so..."
    "Out of control?"
    He took her hand and her chest burned.
    "Maybe you can get her a message for me."
    Her heart twisted a little.
    "Lillevenn, she hears you, you don't need me."
    "Maybe she shouldn't come to see me anymore."
    She stared into space as she nodded. He turned away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed, shutting her eyes. When he rose from her bed, she opened them to stare at his back.
    "Don't you need it? When..."
    He stopped, looking at the floor beside him.
    "I do. So much. But I don't think it's having a good effect on me. I just want to be with her all the time and...I can't disappear inside a dream. Not now. The Midgardians need me...and I know it's not healthy. Please tell her I appreciate what she's been doing, but I have to stand on my own here. They don't need a Fae-addicted mess as their consultant, or whatever I am. I have to be focused."
    He left her room and Ingrid covered her mouth with a hand, a dagger in her heart that she had caused him unhappiness for nothing more than her own selfish needs.

Ingrid lay in bed that night, focusing on not projecting her essence into Lillevenn's mind, as much as both of them needed it. In the sweet darkness, she let her glamour fade away, her five foot eight form filling the bed as she pulled the covers tighter around her. She found space incredibly cold. The moon had had a tropical climate, but up here, the ice sliced through her bones. Being with Lillevenn and soaking up his energy warmed her, but tonight, she would receive no such comfort.

Lillevenn awoke after a fitful sleep, wondering what time it was. Time hadn't meant as much on his grandmother's world. He pushed the covers off him, finding his body incredibly warm for some reason. He knew the Fae maiden would have visited him before now. Ingrid must have gotten his message to her. He wished the sweet girl hadn't listened so well. He rolled over onto his side before freezing in terror at the entity that lay next to him in the bed. Black all over, only its eyes visible, a sharp, otherworldly blue.
    He woke with a shudder, scooting up in bed, now shivering. He pulled the blanket up to warm himself, his mind tormented with the Dokkalfr uncomfortably close in his personal space. He didn't lay down the rest of the night, keeping his light on so as not to create any shadows. He knew what it meant. The "dark" elves would be arriving soon and they had chosen him as emissary. He remembered what the Fae maiden had told him in the last dream, "There is beauty in darkness as well." He would try to keep an open mind, but he wasn't fond of the idea of seeing the opposite of the lovely creature he'd met outside that drinkery in Asgard.