فرنگیس

She began running. She wished she’d been able to say goodbye to her sons. To Ruhn. To tell him her answer to what he’d said. I love you. She cast the thought behind her, toward the Fae Prince she knew would keep her sons safe. The war-machines followed her movements with their launchers. They’d try to blast her into Hel before she could reach them. Emphasis on try. It had been a short life, as far as Vanir were concerned, and a bad one, but there had been moments of joy. Moments that she now gathered and held close to her heart: cradling her newborn sons, smelling their baby-sweet scents. Talking with Ruhn for hours, when she knew him only as Night. Lying in his arms. So few happy memories, but she wouldn’t have traded them for anything. Would have done it all again, just for those memories.