Warning: Unlike my previous entries, this is angsty and has slight violence.
Protection
Líf snarled as he cut down the axe user in front of him, the faceless copy disintegrating into nothing. A cry sounded behind him and he stiffened at the familiar sound before spinning around to see the Summoner hunched over. They grimaced and lifted their head to offer a pained smile.
"What are you doing here?" He roared.
"I-I wanted to check on you after Larcei told me she saw you go into the training tower alone."
"I went alone for a reason!" A branch snapped and he growled darkly as more enemies shuffled towards them. "Come here now!" The Summoner frowned at his demand, but did as he asked. Líf shifted his stance to better keep the Summoner behind him and lifted his blade. "Keep behind me and stay out of my way."
"We're really going to have to work on your manners while you're here." Amusement, well-worn and familiar, painfully constricted around his chest. How could he still feel when more than half of his body was nothing but bones held together by magic?
The first enemy lunged towards him and he easily blocked the spear, letting it slide down the length of his sword before knocking it aside and snapping it up to plunge the tip into their throat. A single flick of his wrist ripped their esophagus open and they toppled over in a cloud of ashes. Behind him the Summoner gasped with pain and he gripped the hilt of his blade tighter. Each attack he initiated and every attack he countered earned him another sound of pain from the Summoner. It ripped into him a little more, guilt like his blade striking him over and over again.
The last enemy was finally felled and he sheathed his blade with enough force to have cracked it were it made of metal.
"I told you my blade is one of ruin!" He spat, turning to glare down at the Summoner. "It damages all around it!" His anger withered at their state and he dropped to his knees in front of them. They were gripping their arms tightly, head hanging down and sweat dripping from their face. Little cuts split through their clothes as if every swing of his blade had cut them instead. Blood speckled the white of their robes and he felt hatred and panic war within him.
"I-I'm sorry," they panted quietly. "I didn't want you to get hurt being in here all alone."
"If I get hurt it is my own fault and what I deserve," he replied harshly. "This is to protect everyone from me. My blade is made only for destruction. I am only made for destruction."
"That's not true!" They retorted and he let his head hang to avoid their lifted gaze. "You are more than that."
"I am not your Alfonse."
"And I'm not your Summoner." He flinched as their hand suddenly cupped his mask, their thumb resting on the flesh of his cheek. "But you protected me when you didn't have to. Yes, your attacks deliver damage to your allies, but you still choose to use that power for them. Even if you have to go off by yourself to do so. I just don't want you winding up hurt trying so hard to make things right." He glanced up at them and winced at the sheen of tears in their eyes. "I'm not your Summoner, but I care for you just like they would have. I can't imagine how they would feel seeing you cut yourself off from the world like this."
"They're dead. It doesn't matter what they would feel." The words stung when they left him like barbs in his mouth. They had the desired effect though. The Summoner's eyes widened and their hand jerked away from him as if he had burned them. Líf rose to his feet, grabbing the Summoner's wrists and hauling them roughly to their feet. They whimpered and stumbled against him, fingers trembling against his armor and he hated himself a little bit more. "We need to get you to a healer. Can you walk?" They looked at him, defiant, and why did fate hate him so by making the one person he never wanted to see summon him? Sharena was painful enough, but seeing this Summoner continue to fight in a war he had watched them die in… Knowing one day Alfonse would break the same promise he had made to this person who he once called his other half…
Death would be more welcome than this.
"I'm fine." Their shaking body said otherwise, but they moved away from him determinedly and Líf merely trailed behind them silently like the specter he had become.
A/N: Líf makes me sad. :')
I thought though, if his sword hurts allies, it'd most likely hurt the Summoner just the same. But it's not like he can tell them to go far away from him when he's the only one to protect them in the training tower.
