Jonn: I Love You

The Eldathyn clerics weren't helpless, but they were pacifists. They boarded up the doors and windows of the monastery and prayed that the trolls would leave them alone.

Jonn didn't understand. The scars on his arm reminded him that clerics could fight. He didn't know why they would rather sit under siege and let monsters pillage their gardens and butcher the livestock. There were more of them than there were trolls. He was sure they could take them. It wouldn’t even be hard.

The Mother told him to settle down. That he was scaring the children.

“The fucking trolls are scaring the children!”

He was shushed for his language and he stalked back to his room growling in frustration. Luci sat at the head of his bed, holding her staff, and watched him pace with a nervous expression.

“Don't do anything,” she said in a quiet voice.

“They're gonna let us all die.” He couldn't stop moving. His hands twitched. “I have to do something. What would—what would Hansel do?” He knew the answer was *kill all of them*, but he wasn't that strong.

“Don't do anything, Jonn,” Luci repeated. “Please don't do anything.”

He recognized the tone in her voice and made himself stop and sit at the foot of the bed heavily, let her touch her staff to his shoulder. His gut rebelled against the spell, but he forced himself to accept it, let it calm him down. His fingers settled. His mind cleared a little.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.”

“Better?”

“Better.” He paused. “Sorry.”

“It's okay.”

He looked over at his sister. She had the same scars he did, still livid against her shoulder, starkly visible at the edge of the neckline of her baggy robe. It didn't make her angry and he had no idea how. The thought of someone hurting her—of those fucking trolls getting inside, and they would, and she didn’t know any spells to defend herself—

“Jonn.”

She'd seen it in his face somehow. She always did. He doubled over, hiding his face in his hands. “Sorry. I can't—they're gonna hurt you and I can't—.”

The staff touched his shoulder again and he jerked away from it.

“Don't.”

She didn't push it. After a moment, the bed shifted, and he looked up to see her sitting closer beside him, watching him.

“What *would* Hansel do?” she asked.

“He'd kill all of them.”

“We can't do that.”

“I know.” He chewed absently on his thumbnail. “The clerics can, but they won't. They'd rather we all starve in here.”

“If … it's Eldath's will that …” Luci didn't finish her thought. She wasn't even convincing herself.

“What if I just let them in?” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her reaching for her staff, but thought nothing of it. “They'd have to fight, then, right? That or die.” He considered. “You think they'd just …?”

He trailed off as the staff touched his shoulder again. Luci's voice shook.

“*Don't*.”

The spell washed over him. Not the calming one. The *other* one. Then it washed out. He stood up, shaking it off, and she tried again but he dodged away and danced backwards towards the door.

“You know I hate it when you do that,” he said reproachfully.

“Jonn—.”

He slammed the door on whatever she was about to say, holding the knob firm as she jiggled it from the other side. She was still smaller than him. She'd always be his little sister.

“I'm gonna take care of this,” he called through the door. “Lock the door. Don't worry.”

After a moment, she gave up, and he heard the lock turn. Softly, she said, “Okay,” then called out his name again as he started off. “Don't get hurt.”

# # #

Jonn got hurt. When he came to he smelled smoke, and something was dragging him by the arm. Fuck, and his other arm hurt like hell—he whimpered inadvertently and the thing stopped. He twisted and looked up into the blood-stained face of a troll. He had to—he needed a knife, or a sword, but it was holding one arm and the other was definitely broken—and he thought, *What would Hansel do*, but Hansel had never told him any stories that ended like this. This was certainly how stories ended. He wondered if the clerics would take care of Luci.

Fire blasted into the troll.

It screamed and dropped him, making him cry out as the movement jostled his broken arm. Then it was gone into the trees, and he looked up through bleary eyes to see his sister—slightly scorched and teary-eyed—with flames just flickering out at her fingertips. She was hyperventilating, her hand shaking as she lowered it.

“I didn't know you could do that," Jonn croaked from the dirt.

Her eyes dropped to him and she rushed over, still trembling but trying to help him up.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I told you to stay behind.”

She sniffled and didn't respond, accidentally touching his arm in a way that made him hiss in pain. That was all it took—she collapsed next to him, crying, and he instinctively grabbed her with his good arm and held her tight against his chest. That helped. That had always helped. He didn't even feel his arm anymore.

“I never wanted to do that,” she sobbed. “I never wanted to know how to do that.”

“I'm sorry,” he said automatically.

She shook her head. “I had to. You were ...”

“I'm sorry.”

She pushed him away, shaking her head more forcefully. “You're *not*. You're not doing the thing you do. You're not sorry, you're probably proud of yourself.”

“No I'm not. My fucking—my arm's broken.” He looked down at himself, then back to her, baffled. “What thing I do?”

Luci didn't respond. She sat apart from him and wiped her eyes. When she pulled her staff off her back he twitched away, and saw her catch the motion and glance away from him for a moment, but she only used it to help herself up. Then she offered her hand down to him.

He accepted it. She was getting so strong. He didn't think she would be smaller than him for much longer. He limped alongside her, one arm around her shoulders, back towards the monastery, which only looked a little damaged by fire. It would recover. It would be fine. And the place was full of healers—he was sure no one had been seriously hurt.

Maybe he was a little proud of himself.

He tugged Luci closer briefly and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, I love you.”

She gave him a side-eyed look, like she was checking for something. Then thinking about something. She sniffled again and looked away from him.

“I think you should leave.”