𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫 || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 ||

4. Leila

Meira:

"I don't...no...no-no." The child whispers, shaking their head. "Don't let him come near. Please." They add softly. Vulnerably.

I hesitate, seeing him wander into the training grounds, worry all over his face. Nyx is hard to miss, tanned skin, violet eyes like stars  and arrogance and an inflatable ego.

But so was anger.

And I wasn't going to risk this child's life.

No matter what everyone's told me, I won't take any risk just because they say the High Lord is fair.

I've heard that one before. And it's never true.

Devlon and Nyx are both going to kill me, the latter I've spoken to before once or twice, but...it's worth it, and this child...they seem special, some how...

"Ok, I have an idea." A plan forms in my head, and I pick the child up. They're surprising light, and wrap their arms around my neck in an almost death grip.

"Please don't drop me," They whisper, but there was nothing fragile about it.

"I won't. I promise." I say softly before I quickly walk off, towards my apothecary, deliberately taking the most crowded route in an attempt to avoid stalkers.

"We're here." I quickly open the door before shutting it behind us, switching the sign from open to shut, and pulling the curtain across slightly.

It's around lunch, so nobody should really be out, but...I must make sure.

Just in case.

I place her on the counter gently, pausing to carefully brush the dirt off her face.

"What's your name, little one?" I ask gently, but I think I already know.

The High Lord and Lady only have one child. But recently, another pair of mates in their inner circle did..

"Leila." She whispered, fear written all over her face.

"What a pretty name." But I see her face, and I add, "Hey, hey. I'm not going to hurt you at all. Just get you some cream for your face. It does look a bit bruised, yes?" I ask, and they just nod.

"It hurts. It hurts everywhere. They said..." She began to shake, not from fear, but from anger. "They said little girls like me couldn't learn to fight. That we were just supposed to produce babies and be a good wife. I don't want to do that!"

"What specifically did they do to you?" I ask carefully. I keep my eye on her, and grab a pillow and a blanket which I gently drape across her lap, and let her rest against the pillow.

I should really get some armchairs in here.

"Just kick me in the stomach a lot. Cut my arm," She showed me a deep cut travelling from her elbow to her shoulder. "Can you fix it?"

My gaze wanders and examines all of the bruises that cover her face and her arms, no doubt more on her stomach.

It's barbaric, it really is. But at least I can treat them...take away some of the pain.

"I can help speed up the healing process. But it will still scar." I warn her, and at age 6 she will already be marked by what some of these Illyrian bastards can do.

"I don't mind. Both my parents and aunts and uncles have scars, and I think they are cool." She blinked, before continuing, "Anyway, I have decided that I don't want to be a warrior. I want to be a Valkyrie! Just like mama."

I gather the cream and the needle and thread, and pull a stool out to sit on, so I can sit and stitch while she talks.

I dab a small about of numbing cream on her arm, just to try and take away the pain a little.

I pull her sleeve up, and I just stare at her wound as she blabbers on, which I don't mind.

I can't do this. I can't stitch a six year old up.
It's cruel and I've only done it once.

Just do it, girl! A cruel voice pieces through my skull, but I know it's just part of a memory.

Nothing more.

Because I still don't remember anything past 25 years.

I know I felt guilty, I know I helped people. I know I was chained and trapped under a mountain because sometimes I can faintly remember voices complaining about not being able to see the stars.
And no sunlight. I know at some point there was a metal collar around my neck. And I was forced to do things, horrible, horrific, things.

I flinch. My free hand instantly goes to my left forearm, but all it's greeted by is my white shirt with my leather doublet. I still keep arm guards on my arms, they only go from my wrist to my elbow but somehow they give me a sense of comfort, from what I don't know.

There's another way.

Heal her with my actual magic.

They'll be a trace, but...I can't let a 6 year old be scarred for nothing.

I make up my mind.

———

I put the needle and thread away, keep the cream and get some balm out too.

"This may now feel a bit tingly, Leila," I warn her, and she just nods and braces herself.

"Do it." She nods.

I close my eyes, and ready for it. The power that remains closer to my mind, and I reach for it.

I let the light flood my veins, let it brush the cobwebs of the past away, and I can feel my cheeks slightly glowing.

I gently place my hand on her wounded one, and close my eyes. I feel for the ruined muscle, and feel the matter move as I sew it up with my magic. Feel the phantom thread pull and pull, and cells divide and create new ones through mitosis as they replace the damaged ones.

Feeling the new muscle repaired, I gently pull away, let my magic settle before cutting off the supply to her arm.

I watch the small Illyrian laid out on the counter.

Watch as her eyes gently roll, breaths level out.

She sighs. And instantly falls asleep.

———

Next update coming soon! ;)