Burnt

She was so tired.

Lena loved magic, and was always eager for it, eager to display her skills and talents. But in combination with her temper, it sometimes left her too drained to move. It wasn’t often that she and Krastos fought, but in confrontations like this one, she usually burnt herself out – literally and figuratively. She had collapsed into Krastos when he released her from the block of ice and eventually let him pick her up, lifting her onto his talbuk and leading them home. She could barely stay upright. Her robes were soaked through, and she was shivering violently. His large hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her down from the saddle, shifting her in his arms as he carried her inside and up the narrow stairs of their home. He laid her on the bed and pulled a blanket over her, pushing her wet hair back from her forehead as she watched him blankly.

Lena heard him go back downstairs and fumble in the kitchen, not even caring that he was rooting around in her perfectly arranged dishes and flatware. She lay under the blanket, still shivering, eyes barely open and unfocused on the ceiling. Barely able to put thoughts together, she still felt an overwhelming guilt for having lashed out at him that way, and even more prominent worry over what his revelations meant to them now. When he reappeared at her side with a steaming bowl, she rolled away from him and shut her eyes tight.

She woke, much later, the sky outside the window rapidly darkening as night fell. She heard a whooshing sound and a soft clatter behind her. When she rolled over, she gasped at the small fire elemental standing guard over a still warm bowl of broth on the nightstand. It chattered at her in an unknown language and wiggled toward the spoon that was sitting beside it. Kras had to have summoned it, she thought and sat up slightly, grimacing at her still damp robes, singed at the edges. She was still so tired. Her head felt fuzzy and heavy. She sighed and shook her head. Of course he didn’t think to put her in something dry. Now she would have to sleep on a damp bed all night. The elemental chattered again and nudged the spoon at her, the resumed patrol of the bowl.

 

The soup was still warm, and she smiled at the elemental as she warmed her hands on the bowl. It whooshed and chattered, bouncing slightly on the nightstand, seeming to watch her every move as she started to sip at it. Lifting an eyebrow, she wondered if Kras had left it to keep watch on her.

She peered around the bedroom as she sipped the broth, nearly dropping the spoon when she saw it. She tipped her head at the attentive elemental, then looked in the direction of the corner. It skittered across the room eagerly and bounced on the floor nearby, illuminating the corner. There was a dress form, which hadn’t been there before, and draped perfectly on it was the most beautiful dress… It looked much like the one she had lusted over in a shop in the trade district for weeks. She always thought it was a bit too pricey, and she rarely had an opportunity to wear such a thing. Fighting her exhaustion, she struggled out of the bed and made her way across the room, reaching out to finger the deep red satin. It was low cut, but not indecent. The bodice laced in a mock corset on the front and back, with black satiny ribbon, and the skit fell simply to the floor. She had tried on a similar one a few weeks before at the shop. Modest sleeves fell to her fingertips, edged in delicate, but not overly frilly, black lace. This one was much richer, much more sumptuous, than the one in the shop, and she wondered how he had had it made so quickly. She dropped her eyes to the floor. It must have been so expensive.

She peeled away the damp robes that served as her armor, kicking them away with a hoof and drying her skin and hair with a towel from the linen closet. Her hands shook as she carefully removed the dress from the form, slipping it over her head. It fit perfectly, she marveled, and smoothed the fabric along her torso, eyeing herself in the mirror. Behind her, Krastos stood in the doorway, eyes shining and smiling. He approached as she ducked her head shyly, silently pulling the corseted back taut and lacing her up. He lifted her hair from the back of her neck and kissed her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her tentatively, resting his cheek against her head. She tensed slightly, not sure if she should forgive him.

“I know you’re still upset at me, Lena,” he started. She pursed her lips and sighed. She was still upset. She opened her mouth to say something smart, but stopped herself. He knew why she was upset. He knew now the risks he was taking. Did she have to live with that fact? She raised her eyes to the mirror and watched him watching her. She looked deeply into the reflection of his eyes and searched, knowing all they had been through together, thousands of years of all sorts of creatures coming after them, being broken and starving and lost in the universe. The draenei had survived so much, she thought. She closed her eyes and stayed silent.

When she opened them again, he was still watching her nervously. His arms around her grew tighter, as if he was afraid to let go, afraid she would run again. Her body relaxed against him and she turned her head, burying her face in his neck.

If they had survived all these millennia, surely this challenge would be no worse than the rest.