#big ruthari mood

[beautifulterriblequeen]

FIVE. FIVEFIVEIFBEIDBE

“Hasn’t this addiction done enough damage already?” Ethari’s voice emanated from beneath a mound of covers. Unlike his touch last night, his voice ran cold, like a distant icy stream.

Runaan froze in the dark, back to Ethari and the bed, hands clutching the small vial of nightsoul he didn’t think his husband even knew about. The assassin always took a sip early in the morning on his way out to train, when Ethari was still abed. Rayla had been living with them for a month now, and he’d never commented before. 

“Runaan. I asked you a question.”

His hands tightened around the little glass container. “I heard you.”

“And?”

Runaan scrambled in the shadows, fearing what Ethari’s beams of light would reveal--to both of them. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

I really don’t. He could mean many things. I’m just not assuming I know which one--

“Your vaunted quest for honor is driving me crazy, love. You’re never here anymore.”

...Oh. Not the nightsoul, then.

But Ethari wasn’t finished. Blankets rustled softly as he sat up. He drew a swirly on top of a sleeping potted mushroom on his nightstand, and it woke with a cool bluish glow. It cast Runaan’s shadow large on the wall in front of the assassin, and Runaan stilled amid his own darkness, not wishing to be seen. “The day we wed,” Ethari continued, “you said you were giving your heart to me. But we both know it already belonged to Xadia. I’m just your side piece. But it’s getting old watching you sneak out of my bed every morning to go spend all day with him instead.”

Runaan blinked at the unexpected metaphor. “Xadia has my heart,” he allowed slowly. “But I don’t kiss it on the mouth.” He pivoted, hiding the nightsoul vial behind his back.

Ethari’s eyes dragged down Runaan’s person, coolly appreciative of his bare chest and hip-hugging pants. The sight roused the craftsman from his blankets, but as he stepped closer, his expression was taut. “You’re letting it fuck you over, though.”

Runaan’s eyes widened at Ethari’s language.

Ethari shrugged one big shoulder. “Couldn’t be helped. It was punny. But my point still stands, Runaan. You’re more Xadia’s bitch than my husband right now, and I kind of hate it a little bit.”

Runaan stared, stricken, at Ethari’s tired anger. “I... I’m sorry...”

Ethari studied his face for a long moment, and a realization passed over him like the trailing edge of a dark cloud, lifting his brows and softening the lines of his mouth as the moonlight returned once again. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to sound like I’m angry with you. I’m not. Not really.”

“With Xadia, then?” Runaan asked softly. With my entire purpose for existing?

“Maybe a smidge.” Ethari eased closer, sliding warm hands down Runaan’s arms, drawing him into a hug. “I could never be angry with y- What’s this?” he asked, as his fingers found the vial Runaan had been hiding behind his back.

Runaan panicked and clutched it tightly, giving away its importance. Don’t see this. Don’t see me like this.

But Ethari’s fingers had always been quick. He had the vial liberated in half a second. Runaan didn’t know whether to parry or flee, so he tried to do both. A soft gasp of dismay fled his lips as one hand caught Ethari’s wrist, and his back foot retreated toward the bedroom door.

Ethari tightened his grip on the little container. His dark brows tightened into his analytical expression as he studied it, completely ignoring Runaan’s grip.

Runaan’s shoulders slumped. Still panicking and giving myself away around this elf, I see. Couldn’t ever hide anything for long.

Ethari turned the little vial around until he spotted the etched rune that held the nightsoul’s unnatural efficacy in place. His mouth fell open, and then he froze. Ethari was always in motion, even in his sleep. He was an elf of life and light and love. He couldn’t not move. But in that moment, Runaan saw all the light in his husband’s soul leave him, and he went still.

No. That’s my job. Come back.

He squeezed Ethari’s wrist hard. “I can explain.”

“You can’t even come close,” Ethari murmured through numb lips. “You know what nightsoul did to my uncle.”

Runaan did. He’d been the one to find him, lost within his own mind, wandering the Forest during a new Moon, shrieking like a soul being actively damned, unable to hold to his physical form any longer as the Moon’s power waned away. He’d watched Ethari’s uncle splinter into smoky shadow, still howling, until he blessedly vanished with one final anguished cry, released from his torment at last. And then he’d been foolish enough to tell Ethari the truth of what he’d seen.

“I know what I’m doing,” Runaan said. “It won’t end like that.”

“You’re saying he didn’t know what he was doing?” Ethari challenged.

Runaan’s gaze sharpened. “He didn’t. He used too much, too soon, and he-”

“He was eighty-four, Runaan. That’s not ‘soon.’“

“He wasn’t an assassin, either,” Runaan shot back. “Do you really think I have fifty more years in me, at the rate I’m going? I have to run full tilt across Xadia whenever Avizandum says so, and if I so much as sneeze wrong, the wrong people will die, and I might be one of them. I. Must. Be. Perfect. For as long as I have. I must be perfect. Do you see?” His chest heaved with too many emotions to name, and his eyes clung to Ethari’s, demanding understanding.

But Ethari was horrified. He thumbed the etched rune on the vial’s glassy surface. 

One part deathberry extract, one part moonberry, and one part forbidden new moon magic, nightsoul was an accursed potion that had no business existing at all. The fact that it had to be coaxed into remaining in the world should have been a warning flag to all. But the desperate always found ways around the rules. Ethari had never expected his law-and-order husband to be one of them.

“Runaan... every time you drink this, you use up one day of your future.”

Runaan’s nod was crisp. “Yes. Exactly.”

“You’re shortening your lifespan.”

“I’m ensuring that I have a lifespan. This is just what it costs.”

Ethari’s bottom lip trembled. His eyes lingered on the vial in his hand, then they lifted to Runaan’s, revealing a watery shimmer. “Your life is not a currency to be spent, my heart.”

Runaan blinked in surprise. How could he not know, after all this time?

I am an assassin. 

I am a tool. 

I am Xadia’s will. 

I am justice. 

I am balance. 

I am the sword. 

I am the Way. 

I am Moonshadow.

I am an assassin. 

With steady brows and a tight jaw, Runaan murmured, “Ethari. My life has always been currency to be spent. I’m just choosing to spend a little of it for myself, before others choose the price for me. Because someone will, someday.”

Two tears slipped down Ethari’s cheeks, losing themselves along his blue markings. “But why? Why do you want to leave me sooner?” he begged.

Runaan’s control snapped, and he clutched at Ethari’s arms. “I don’t! I don’t,” he blurted. “Moon and shadow, Ethari. I take this so I’m good enough to come home my family at the end of every day. So I can survive long enough to train Rayla to survive everything the world will throw at her. So I can do the job, and spare anyone else from having to do it in my place. I take this so I can live to see as many days with you as I can wrest from my fate. I take this so that when I fall...” But he faltered, not wanting to speak of such things so blatantly.

Ethari let out a hurt growl. “No, there’s no stopping now. Say it. When you fall...” he prompted.

Runaan’s gaze dropped to Ethari’s pendant. “When I fall,” he dutifully continued, “I will have the bright memories of as many good days with you as I can carry. When I fall, whether to blade or shadow,” he added, tracing a finger lightly along his husband’s cheek, “I will have known thousands of days of your voluminous and refulgent love. And then, because of you, I will be worthy of dying a good death. Because of you, I will be ready to meet it.”

Ethari clapped a hand over a sudden sob. His head shook from side to side, hating Runaan’s soft words, hating Xadia, hating fate. Runaan gently pulled him into a hug and held him softly, feeling his shoulders shake. Ethari dug his fingers into Runaan’s ponytail and squeezed it, and his hot tears ran down Runaan’s chest as he buried his face against his husband’s neck.

“It’s not so bad, my heart,” Runaan said soothingly. “Every day, you have two of me at once. Twice my love.”

Ethari snorted wetly against his neck. “That explains your stamina last night.”

Runaan stiffened in surprise at Ethari’s unexpected direction, and he barked a sudden laugh. “That, too, my heart.”

Ethari stood straight again and wiped his eyes. “I’m never going to grow old with you, am I?” he asked in a trembling voice.

Runaan took a deep breath and felt the air of a future day fill his lungs. “Such was never our fate. My destiny was set long before I loved you.”

Ethari studied the vial of nightsoul with thoughtful brows and pursed lips. “I can’t bring myself to give this to you. But I will hold you while you take it.” 

He opened his palm and let the vial rest there. Its dark liquid swirled ominously, promising twice the life for twice the cost and then some.

Runaan stepped into the circle of his free arm and let himself be held. Then he plucked the vial from Ethari’s hand, bit the stopper free with the side of his mouth, and spilled a measure of the dark concoction onto his tongue.

Ethari’s sudden kiss, hard and eager and moonlit with complexity, was everything he had ever wanted.

[netflixoxygenoxygen]

my heart with you

Ethari watches over the celebratory gathering with a lightness in his heart that he hasn’t felt in weeks. That is, until Runaan joins him to spectate. Specifically focusing on a certain moonshadow elf and her human lover. 

+ bonus scene as Callum wonders if Runaan hates him, Rayla tries to assure him he doesn’t, and he--well, it’s not like he can’t not listen to his girlfriend but it’s not like he can believe her either... (Ruthari, Rayllum, 1.2k words, fluff, S3 spoilers)

My secret santa fic for @the-answer-was-bi-klance in the @tdpholidayexchange! I hope you like this and happy new year!! :)

--

It had already been a couple hours since the celebrations had begun, but the mood was still soaring. 

Ethari couldn’t blame anyone though, not for the noise, or the rowdiness, or the crowds; he knew it was a big celebration, not just for him but for the whole of Xadia. The dragon prince’s birth and the newfound peace over the continent was something that would go down in history as the era’s legacy, no doubt. Even if it was Runaan’s return that would remain in the core of his heart. 

It was funny, though. He would have thought he wouldn’t have been able to stay away from his husband--the moon only knew just how much he had yearned for him, tears and broken heart not going unnoticed by those who knew him. But as Runaan made his way around the moonshadow elves, most giving him nods of acknowledgement and respect, Ethari stepped away and towards a tree at the edge of the clearing everyone had gathered in; all races of elves and humans, and earlier the baby dragon prince himself before he’d been taken away by his mother for his bedtime.

Despite the enormity of it all, it was really just a scattered gathering of joyful people, coming together for the first time in generations. 

Humans arm wrestled with elves on the tables that just an hour ago had been covered with mixtures of human and elven cuisine, and Ethari couldn’t help but spot the Katolian soldiers who had assisted Rayla in bringing Runaan back were engaged in sparring battles with some of their assassins and fighters. Though, he had to admit, it wasn’t that hard to miss the loud blond and the strawberry-haired kind one, not when the renowned general and the newly crowned Sunfire queen were often not far behind. 

His gaze swept elsewhere, finding itself on his niece and her new lover. Rayla and Callum were sharing a moment at the other edge of the clearing, the former laughing as the latter made a face at the food he was eating. Ethari smiled fondly; he was glad beyond words she had found someone who could be, perhaps, what Runaan was to him.

Speaking of…

“Enjoying the party, my love?” Runaan asked softly as he took Ethari’s hand and settled in next to him. 

“Of course. How could I not?” He smiled wider, thoughtful. “Are you?”

Runaan chuckled. “As much as I can be. I’d nearly forgotten how rowdy some of us could be.” They laughed together, the fitting sound of cheers from the audience surrounding the arm wrestlers carrying throughout the clearing. Runaan quietened though, when he saw Rayla and Callum, Ethari stifling his own laughter as the grip on his hand tightened. 

Moonshadow assassin or not, Runaan’s protective side over their pseudo-niece was one of the most obvious things about him, second only to his love for Ethari. “You’re not going over to separate them?” He teased, waving at Callum’s tense smile, the pair having noticed Runaan’s burning gaze-that-bordered-on-a-glare-Rayla-knew-far-too-well. He had to give it to Rayla; she was doing a very good job at dutifully ignoring it. “They’re not even three xadian leaves apart.”

Runaan inhaled slowly, giving Ethari a raised eyebrow. Nonetheless, the playful glint emerged in his eyes. “Are you trying to provoke me?” 

He only grinned back. 

Runaan shook his head, slowly, his eyes clouded with a whirlpool of emotion. “Rayla has grown. Faster than I would have ever expected… to separate her from her--Callum.” In this context, he could barely push the boy’s name out, Ethari noted with amusement, having witnessed earlier how Runaan had been fine praising the little group of their immeasurable achievements. “After all they’ve done, would be juvenile.” He paused. “Even if they’re far too close.”

But as he said that, Ethari knew the fond glimmer in his husband’s eyes. Protective or not, he was the proudest he’d ever been of Rayla, and though Ethari hadn’t been there, he could only imagine the tears when Runaan and her had first reunited; tears from both parties. 

He smiled, shifting closer to lean on him.

There was still much to be done; working on Runaan’s arm, for one, and figuring out the details of the newly acquired peace over Xadia, for another.

But as they took in the moment in that clearing, hand in hand, humans and elves celebrating as one, Ethari knew they would be alright.

His heart had gone out with his lover, and both had finally returned.

(Bonus) Earlier...

He really couldn’t help it anymore. He had to know, and he had to know now, or, at least, before they made it to Xadia else he’d never get another private moment like this. 

“Uh, Rayla, can I-uh, talk to you? For a sec?” Callum asked quietly, confusing the moonshadow elf as she raised her eyebrows at him. She slowed her steps to match his pace.

“Sure, Callum, what is it?”

He swallowed, glancing over her shoulder at something (or, she thought with a sneaking suspicion, someone) before continuing. “Does your uncle hate me?”

Rayla blinked. “My… uncle?” She turned around, eyes catching on Runaan’s figure, the older elf talking to Gren and Soren. Her eyes widened. “Runaan’s not my uncle!” She exclaimed, embarrassed. 

This time it was Callum’s turn to blink, mouth forming an ‘o’. 

“He’s--agh, never mind.” She groaned. It’s not like she hadn’t heard this all before and it’s not like it went the same way every time. He wasn’t really her uncle but she wouldn’t have minded calling him her uncle but she didn’t know if he would mind and--well, it didn’t matter. “No, Callum, I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.”

Callum nodded. “Oh, right, uh huh. Gotcha.” He paused, and for a brief, relieving moment Rayla thought that was the end of it. Until he continued. Humans and their big mouths. “Was that, um, sarcasm?”

Rayla felt herself halt to a stop, turning towards him again, eyes incredulously wide. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“I don’t know! Was it sarcasm?” Callum retorted, shrugging helplessly as his arms went up in surrender. 

She slapped a hand over her face, groaning again. This time, she felt rather than heard the other three stop up ahead, probably wondering what they were up to. “How--ugh, whatever. No, it wasn’t Callum. Now would you calm down? Runaan doesn’t hate you.”

“Lover’s quarrel back there?” Soren called out, whistling teasingly as Gren laughed, before it trailed off at the look on Runaan’s face. 

Rayla rolled her eyes at the comment, taking Callum’s hand in response as they walked to catch up. Or, more like Rayla walked and Callum followed mechanically, smiling nervously at the newly freed elf. He raised his hand meekly to wave, stomach churning at the piercing stare. It was almost a glare but--he trusted Rayla, and if she said Runaan didn’t hate her then… he was going to believe her.

As best he could.

If fair was fair, he wondered if this was something he deserved, if only to repay the grueling re-assessment Rayla had gotten from his aunt Amaya as well (their first meeting hadn’t gone very well and everything after had been more a rush than anything else). Of course, she hadn’t been unreasonable and considering Rayla’s role in the whole scheme of things, Amaya wouldn’t have kept up the tough-aunt act for too long. But...

Rayla never said he liked me, though, Callum concluded with a resigned sigh as they rejoined the other three.

It was going to be a long walk back to Xadia, that was for sure.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

hc that Runaan was supremely uninterested in guys and dating and assumed he always would be, until one day he and Ethari had to spend more time together than they planned, like they got stuck by a storm or something, and Runaan felt awkward but Ethari tried to ease him by engaging him about swords, which wasn't his favorite but he knew Runaan appreciated them, and Runaan was so surprised to hear this soft elf go off about balance and edges and the proper way to sharpen, and how even the most basic knife looks prettier with a bit of decoration on it, that he got pulled into one of the longest conversations of his life, and halfway through he started really noticing how Ethari's hands looked as he waved them interestedly, and how his lips spread into such a handsome delighted smile when he got happy, and how his sunset eyes sparkled right at Runaan when Runaan said something right

Runaan ofc had not processed any of this so it didn't really get in the way that day, but he wasn't able to stop thinking about that lovely conversation--or Ethari--for days and days, and it actually disrupted his meditation and his training, and he got worried and had to talk to Lain, and Lain about fell on the floor when his bestie brought him this very earnest worried concern about losing his concentration over a simple conversation - "Lain, am I ill?" and of course he assured Runaan that he wasn't, but later that night Lain had to check with Tiadrin, "Babe is lovesick an actual illness?"

Dork Elf Squad, all of 'em

[beautifulterriblequeen]

41. "Can you be the one to do it?"

I hope you’re ready for Ruthari and also moonfam angst.

Can you be the one to do it?

The runic message pops up unexpectedly, displaying over its communication crystal in a softly glowing turquoise font Ethari designed just for Runaan. The crystal’s low vibing alert noise rumbles against his worktable for extra noticeability. Ethari knows how hard he focuses when he’s in the zone, but if Runaan needs him--if he sends him a text--Ethari wants to be damn sure he gets it in a timely manner.

His heart goes molten, and then icy, melting a hole straight through him, out the bottom of his feet, through the tree house, into the earth. It takes with it a magmatic cry of denial that Ethari wishes he couldn’t hear.

But he can. It’s his own cry, from the moment he learned of Lain and Tiadrin’s betrayal. It echoes forward through time, bouncing off this moment like a desperate bird fleeing a forest fire, frantic to escape the reality that’s burning down the world.

Ethari saw it in his husband’s eyes when Runaan told him. He’d seen it. The fracture in those flawless gemstone eyes. He could hear the crystalline wrench that spidered fault lines through Runaan’s heart. Runaan used to know his exact place in this world, down to the very millimeter, the very second, the very breath. Heir to Tiadrin, mentor to Rayla, leader of the Moonshadow assassins, bearer of a thousand years of unbroken Moonshadow honor. He’d done his best to hold everything at once, and Ethari willingly added his strength to that grip, holding Runaan as well.

Together, they held so much.

But in the middle of the afternoon, Runaan’s eyes shattered, and his soul along with them. 

Gems aren’t metal. You can’t just melt them down and start over. You can’t just erase their damage, reforge their strength from the start. Gems are fragile, for all their solidity. Brittle. They hold, until they don’t. And once they crack, there is no repairing them.

Ethari saw, felt, heard his husband’s spirit split. He told Ethari the news, coolly, hiding his shaking hands, and then he spun on his heel and said he had work to do. He left. He ran. Ethari reeled back from that moment, retreating to his workshop after Runaan left. And now, an hour later, this message.

Can you be the one to do it? 

Ethari knows what Runaan’s talking about. But he’s feeling shut out, aching, hurt. He needs connection. Even if he gets it from pushing Runaan into admitting his feelings. He picks up the message crystal and presses at its facets.

Do what? he asks.

And then he stares at the crystal. Willing Runaan to admit he’s hurting too. Willing him to confess he needs help. Let me help you, my heart.

Runaan’s single-rune reply comes in a minute later.

Rayla.

Ethari hopes he was staring at his crystal, too. His fingertips hover, about to agree to tell Rayla about her parents’ horrible, confusing, painful choice. About to take that burden from Runaan’s shoulders.

Then he thinks again. Runaan waited to reply. Runaan always knows what he wants to say, choosing his words with exquisit care. Why did he wait?

Ethari rests his hands on his worktable and stares at Rayla’s name. After so many years, he’s fluent in Runaan. Everything the assassin does is an open book to the craftsman’s eager, curious, willing heart. If he can just take a moment, he can suss this mystery out...

Runaan, you’ve asked me to do something, he thought. Something you had to text me about, rather than ask. The crystals are for things we don’t want to say aloud. There’s more here than just shock and your assassin tasks, isn’t there?

Ethari drags the weeping shreds of his own heart together, and he focuses through the pain. Focuses on Runaan, on what Runaan would be focusing on right now.

Duty. Always duty. What’s he doing? The very first thing he’s doing right now, what is it? Ethari’s mind leaps to Tiadrin’s other chosen assassins. He’s telling them, too. They deserve to know first. And he’s thought of Rayla. Of course he has! She’s Tiadrin’s daughter. She needs to know first, too. But...

An echo of Ethari’s cry bounces off another tree in his heart, still fleeing from that initial heartbreak. But he can’t. He can’t be as hard with her as he can with his old squad. He loves Rayla more softly than those he trained with under Tiadrin’s tutelage. And he can’t break her heart like this.

He’s asking me to do it for him. But he’s hesitating, too.

Ethari draws a shaky breath. “You’re not certain about this, are you, love?” he whispers to the message crystal. “You’re out there looking like the leader everyone needs you to be. But you’re just as lost as everyone else. You’re just as lost as I am.”

His bottom lip trembles, and the crystal vanishes inside a sudden fist. If you fall, my heart, we all fall. He can’t even say it out loud, the vulnerable truth runs so deep through his soul. He’s seen Runaan’s soft heart broken before. So much more is at stake this time. Everything’s at stake. Ethari’s next move will determine Runaan’s path. And where Runaan goes, so go the Moonshadow elves.

I must be perfect, the craftsman realizes. For Runaan, and for everyone i love. I must be perfect.

He wipes sweaty palms on his pants and nibbles at his lip, holding an aching breath in his lungs

Then his thumbs move across the crystal’s facets, and the fate of the world is sealed.

No. Hold to your duty, my heart. You can do this. I believe in you.

__________________

Runaan stares at the lavender runes hovering over his crystal, feeling a shocked tear gather in the corner of one eye. Heavy stone doors in his heart, open for years and years now, begin to rumble shut before the pain of Ethari’s message can truly sink in.

I’m on my own. Again. 

“Runaan?” Andromeda asks, pulling his attention back across the room where his colleagues and friends have gathered to begin planning their honor-bound response to Tiadrin’s baffling cowardice.

Runaan blinks and takes a deep breath. The honor of the Moonshadow elves isn’t going to save itself.

Very well. To the task, then.

“One moment, before we begin,” he says. “There is another whose honor is at stake, and she deserves to be involved here, as well, to whatever degree she chooses.”

“Rayla?” Skor asks doubtfully.

Runaan lifts his chin and offers a cool stare. “My protégé, as I was Tiadrin’s.”

With her lineage established, the other assassins all nod. They trust Runaan as much as any among them, all of whom trained under Tiadrin’s expert tutelage. When he says Rayla should be included as part of Tiadrin’s assassin legacy, they instinctively agree.

“We’ll wait, then,” Ram murmurs, running a finger along the point of a dagger.

Runaan nods crisply and heads outside into the chilly winter air. He crosses the village, heading for Rayla’s school.

Ethari was right, he tells himself, over and over, as the cold breeze infiltrates his skin and tousles his ponytail. This is my duty, and mine alone. My squad and I will go to Katolis together. But this part, breaking Rayla’s heart for love of our people... Only I can do that. Only I should do that.

Ethari was right to tell me no. He was right. I was too soft. It won’t happen again.

Runaan strides into the school and pauses at the door of the round classroom Rayla’s currently in. Chin high, hands clasping his forearms behind his back, waiting to be seen. Slowly, his presence sinks in, and one by one the young Moonshadows look over at him with wide eyes. Then they all look at Rayla.

Rayla.

She slouches against her pillow, flicking her pen in the air and catching it like a dagger, only half listening to the history lesson, her eyes on the window, mind elsewhere.

“Rayla,” the teacher prompts gently.

His protégé’s mood shifts instantly at the sight of him. Her eyes light up, and she leaps to her feet, immediately attentive. “Runaan!”

The conspiratorial smile that lurks in the corner of Rayla’s mouth drags Runaan’s heart out, kicking and screaming, through the closing gap in those heavy stone doors. She thinks she’s free. The thought stabs at him. He tenses his gut and starts driving it back inside again. She thinks I’m saving her from her boring class. I’m not freeing her. I’m binding her. Moon help me, Tiadrin. How did you manage this part with me?

“...Runaan? Is something wrong?”

Runaan’s hands clench around his forearms. He blinks away his tears and lifts his chin. “Rayla... come with me.”

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Now

I had a ficlet in me today! It feels so good to have the spoons to write. Please enjoy some soft Ruthari.

tw for light injury, because of course this is hurt/comfort

________________

Runaan sank back against the couch and felt his horns slide against its overstuffed top. His tongue was hot with fresh coldspice tea, and its aroma filled his nose with comfortable tingles. With his eyes shut, he inhaled slowly, letting his breath slip through the coldspice veil on its way to his lungs.

An ice pack against his soft green shirt, right over his ribs, formed a sharp counterpoint to the warming balm of sun's tears that swathed his opposite shoulder. And his knee. And his other ankle. Miraculously, nothing much hurt at all, in that moment.

Well, it wasn't really a miracle. It was Ethari. But Ethari being in Runaan's life, now... that was a miracle, and a most blessed one indeed. Runaan smiled, thanking the Moon for the precious elf behind his welcome comforts.

"And what has you smiling so mysteriously over here, love?" Ethari's murmur warned Runaan of his return.

Runaan's smile broadened softly for a moment. He sought Ethari's face, reading his mood in the rise of his brows and the softness of his mouth and the set of his shoulders as he brought in a second cup of tea for himself. "Now," Runaan said.

"Now?" Ethari repeated.

"Now has me smiling." Runaan sat up straight and held out a hand invitingly.

Ethari's brows rose with swift interest, and he set down his tea in a hurry. He knelt carefully in front of Runaan.

Runaan lifted Ethari's chin with a gentle finger, drawing him forward until their lips met in soft communion. "Now nothing hurts, because you're here, my heart."

Ethari's fingers fluttered across Runaan's tended injuries, and then his worried eyes found his husband's again. Words of protestation had rarely had any effect on Runaan's training regimen, so Ethari swallowed his sadness and cupped Runaan's cheeks, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm here."

Runaan took another slow breath, and Ethari's rich scent mixed with the aroma of tea. His arms slipped around his big buff husband, and he began to settle back against the couch, pulling Ethari against him.

"I don't want to hurt you..." Ethari began, mindful of Runaan's several training injuries.

"You could never." Runaan's voice was soft but firm.

Ethari held onto Runaan's waist tightly as he settled back, keeping the ice pack in place. He shot the assassin a faintly exasperated look, but Runaan's eyes were soft and glowing, and a tiny smirk played across his lips.

"Holding me together?" Runaan teased.

"Apparently," Ethari sassed.

Runaan softened immediately. "Thank you." He traced light fingers along Ethari's cheek as he gazed into his warm eyes.

"You're welcome," Ethari replied. His soft tone threatened more of the same in the future, and the corners of his eyes got suspiciously damp.

Runaan's eyes prickled hot. So much of the world was beyond his control, and when it hurt him, it hurt Ethari, too. But his husband's heart worked differently than his own, remaining endlessly willing to share in that hurt in order to soothe it away from those he loved. How had Runaan--of all elves--been blessed with such a precious love?

Their shared gaze drew out, and the room faded away until all that remained in Runaan's awareness was himself, his husband, and the endless fountain of joy and completeness that Ethari's love filled him with.

Then Ethari's finger brushed Runaan's cheek, swiping away a warm tear. "Nothing hurts, hmm?"

Runaan's grin was a bright flash, his kiss as sharp as a sun-warmed blade. Ethari gasped through his nose and hummed as he leaned into the kiss, pressing himself closer against his husband and holding Runaan tight against him.

Runaan broke the kiss with a wince and caught his breath for a moment. "The best sort of overpowering," he teased, pressing a hand to his side.

"Sorry." Ethari bit his lip with chagrin.

Runaan tapped a finger under Ethari's chin until their eyes met and gave him a look of mock affront. "Don't you dare be sorry. If I want kisses, and you want to give me kisses, then I should get kisses."

Ethari blinked, and a little chuckle burst from him. "I... can't argue with that logic."

Runaan flashed him a smirk. "Your farseeing wisdom is one of my favorite things about you, my heart."

Ethari opened his mouth to protest, but he closed it again, entirely failing to stifle a smile. Shaking his horns in light exasperation, he said only, "Drink your tea, love. It'll do you good."

Runaan took a deep breath and claimed Ethari with his arms, snuggling him against his chest, centering his husband's ear against his own heart. He sighed and relaxed, feeling Ethari's arms embrace him back with firm support. "This does me more good."

Ethari closed his eyes and listened to the steady thump of Runaan's heart. The comforting proof of life made him squeeze Runaan even tighter, causing the assassin to release a small oof and a chuckle.

Runaan rested against the couch and smoothed a lock of hair from Ethari's forehead, and then he kissed him softly between the horns. "Now is when I love you, my heart. And it's always now."

Ethari squeezed Runaan again, in the way that meant he was too feelsy to speak without giving away his tears. Runaan accepted them anyway, along with everything else about his beloved. Ethari's tears of love were now, too.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

I nearly died choking today, and my husband saved my life. And then the world continued to be a shitty place anyway. Tonight, I read this sad comic and cried for about the 12th time today. So I had to write a Ruthari version of it. I had to save something today, just one thing. Best I can do. Written to “Sleeping Dead”.

Rating: Gen but with dark angst

tw: animal death (offscreen)

“She’s dying, Runaan.” The wobble in Ethari’s voice jerked the assassin’s attention from the cruelly crushed nest tucked gently among the thick roots of the weeping tree at the edge of the shadowed pond.

Runaan rose and strode to Ethari’s side as he hunkered over the listless black swan. His husband’s hand lay softly atop her back, but the limp, beautiful bird didn’t seem to notice, or care. As Runaan dropped to a knee beside Ethari, the craftsman raised sad eyes to meet his.

Runaan caught the ripple of tears in his eyes and rested a hand on Ethari’s shoulder. His gaze dropped to the mourning bird, her family cruelly taken in a senseless act. Then he looked back at the crushed nest, and the heavy rock that had taken its tiny lives just before they were ready to hatch.

His jaw bunched, and his grip tightened on Ethari’s shoulder. When his gaze returned to Ethari’s, it had gone ice cold.

Ethari’s eyes flickered to the nest, then back to Runaan’s face, and he registered the sudden shift in the assassin’s mood. There was no stopping the taut intent that drew Runaan’s brows down over his eyes, nor the mission he’d just given himself. Ethari glanced around as if he might spot the unsuspecting assailants lurking in some nearby shrubbery, unaware that an avenging assassin had just decided to bring them justice.

“Runaan... be careful.”

Runaan rested a gentle hand on the swan’s back alongside Ethari’s, squeezed Ethari’s shoulder again, and ghosted away into the woods with a dark scowl. His bowblade rode in his hand after three steps.

Alone with the dying mother, Ethari felt the darkness press in against him. The cold and the endlessness had come for the bird’s soul, and Ethari could feel it start to slip away, right through his fingers.

“No...” His face crumpled, and he scooped the soft, warm bird into his arms, limp wings and all, burying his face against her graceful neck. “I’m so sorry...”

Ethari’s head pounded, and his throat stung, but he didn’t want the swan’s last moments to happen on a random patch of shore. He rose and carried her over to her nest, hoping that her soul would find her cygnets’ and travel with them.

The craftsman dropped to his knees beside the violent destruction and felt his big chest hitch with a sob. “You’ll find your way...” he started to say. But then, from just beneath the edge of the big rock, he spotted an unbroken curve of shell.

With curious, soft fingers, he reached down into the nest and felt around the edges of the egg, expecting with every inch to find a cracked edge. Instead, he pulled up a perfect, intact cygnet egg and stared at it wonderingly.

“Will you wait, just a little?” Ethari breathed to the swan. “Just for a little.” He licked his lips and took a deep breath, eyes locked on the egg. As his fingers gently supported the lone survivor, magic sparked brightly from his fingertips.

Runaan returned to the nest site by the water an hour later. No sound alerted Ethari to his husband’s presence, but Ethari knew he was there anyway. In fact, the sudden absence of sound among the forest creatures was what told him that the assassin had returned. All the forest knew the smell of death.

Runaan slid a hand onto Ethari’s shoulder as the craftsman knelt by the nest, as if to comfort him, but when the assassin saw what Ethari held, his hand squeezed suddenly, and he dropped to his knees beside his husband.

Ethari looked over at him with a small smile. Runaan’s eyes searched his face, then dropped to the dark ball of fluff he held in one hand. Ethari cradled the swan’s soft, warm body in his other arm. The swan nudged her baby gently with her bill, making soft noises.

The craftsman had cleared out the nest, as well, making it clean and usable for the small family again. Runaan could feel its welcoming energy, too, and knew that Ethari had helped the lost cygnets find their way across as well.

He slipped a hand beneath Ethari’s and looked from the newly hatched cygnet to his husband. Ethari’s cheek markings couldn’t quite hide the tiredness under his eyes, which hadn’t been there when Runaan left the clearing. “What have you done, my heart?”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do again, same as you,” Ethari said steadily.

Runaan blinked and looked down for a moment before he nodded. Untimely death was imbalance, and Moonshadows felt the pull to set things right, even imperfectly. Even at a cost they had to pay themselves. Runaan had taken, and Ethari had given. The violence could not be undone, so this was the best they could do.

“Would you like to hold him?” Ethari tilted his palm and settled the fluffy newborn into his husband’s hand. “Little darling doesn’t weigh any more than an adoraburr.”

Runaan’s eyes prickled with sudden heat, and his other hand gripped Ethari’s shoulder for stability. But not the balancing sort. Life was precious, so precious, to him. But his hands were more accustomed to holding death.

Ethari cupped his husband’s hand and lifted it, raising the peeping cygnet to eye level. “I think he likes you.”

Runaan glanced uncertainly at Ethari, but the craftsman just winked softly. “He knows a good elf when he sees one.”

After a long moment, Runaan nodded and let his forehead rest against Ethari’s, while the little cygnet peeped softly in their cupped hands.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

First Yule

For Ruthari Week 2020

AU: Prince Runaan Headcanon

Pairings: Runaan x Ethari

Rating: Gen

Archive warnings: None

Prompt #7: Jewelry/Formal wear

“His Royal Highness Runaan of the Moonshadow Elves, and escort.” The seneschal’s voice rang out across the circle of raised marble that served as the entry hall into the massive feasting room. Ethari’s fingers tightened on Runaan’s as his princely boyfriend held them in a formal pose. Runaan paused for a bare moment at the top of the blue-carpeted stairs, letting them both be seen by any guests below who wished to look up. Ethari felt the tug in Runaan’s fingers and smoothly mimicked him, hoping he hadn’t looked too obvious in trying to head on down the stairs first.

The room below them was vast. Ethari thought he’d seen big rooms before, back in the village, but he had not. Not like this. Even the largest understump in the Silvergrove couldn’t compare to this sprawling hall.

Six long arc-shaped tables criss-crossed each other to form a snowflake-esque eating area in the very center of the hall. Serpentine crystals glowing in blue and green hung from the great lacy dome of the ceiling, interspersed with flickers of white and blue as birds and moths flitted through them, occasionally landing on soft vines that grew down from the outside roof above. The air rippled with laughter and murmurs of conversation and carried the bright twinkle of falling water on opposite ends of the great chamber. It was also pungent with aromas Ethari had never smelled before—things salty, fishy, spicy, and sweet, so unlike the traditional dishes of the Silvergrove.

The other guests swirled around the tables in an uncoordinated ring of small dances that was nonetheless beautiful for its unwieldy grace. The dances didn’t appear too complex. Ever since Runaan invited him back to the palace for Yule, Ethari had been worried that he’d appear far too backwoods to make a good match for Runaan. Especially in front of his large and powerful extended family.

“Shall we?” Runaan’s murmur pulled him out of his gaping.

Ethari shut his mouth with a quiet snap. “Sorry.”

Runaan squeezed his fingers, and they descended the carpeted steps to the main floor in perfect sync with each other.

The air cooled as they descended, and Ethari suppressed a shiver. How he could be cold while wearing so many layers baffled him. Runaan had helped him dress in formal attire worthy of being seen at an official holiday celebration at the palace, so Ethari felt confident that he fit in. Runaan had laced up his dark purple corset vest a bit loosely, “for dancing,” he said. Then had come a light, one-sleeved robe of lavender silk, with a single swooping crystal loop that rested against the silk as it strained across Ethari’s sturdy deltoid.

“I feel too… muscular in this. What if I break the crystal cord?” Ethari had murmured worriedly as he tested his range of motion.

Runaan’s response had been to smooth his fingers down Ethari’s arm, pressing it to his side again, and to reassure him that he couldn’t break the crystals. All while wearing a faint blush.

Lastly had come an asymmetrical mantle in deep navy velvet that clipped to Ethari’s corset vest on one shoulder, and then again on the opposite hip, through a high slit in the sleeveless robe’s side. Runaan settled a wide silver cuff etched with moon phases around Ethari’s bare bicep and linked it to a matching one around his wrist using a flutter of lavender silk. Then he’d smilingly tucked a gleaming moonstone belt through Ethari’s layers and buckled it in front for him before kissing his lips softly. “You’re perfect.”

Ethari adored the way Runaan looked at him in that moment, but his fluttery tummy wasn’t only from Runaan’s soft attention. He might look the part of a prince’s companion, but he had yet to open his mouth or attempt any palace rituals or traditions. Runaan had said he’d be right by his side the whole time, and Ethari was desperately clinging to the hope that he wouldn’t get called away.

Runaan smiled and tilted his horns toward him as they reached the end of the long staircase. “I know it’s out of your control, but I’m finding myself deeply appreciative of the fact that you’re exactly my height.”

“Y-you are?” Ethari looked over in surprise.

“My perfect match.” Runaan adjusted his hand and clasped Ethari’s less formally, as they always did while strolling around the Silvergrove together.

Ethari let out a big sigh and squeezed his hand hard. “Don’t let me out of your sight, my prince,” he said, only half joking. “I’d hate to start a war on accident if you abandon me for the drinks table for too long.”

Runaan chuckled and pulled him close, until they stood face to face, still holding hands. “You’re worth starting a war for, my light. But don’t worry. I won’t leave your side.” And there at the base of the steps, in full sight of everyone, Runaan took Ethari’s face in his strong fingers and kissed him. Far more than just a peck on the lips, Runaan’s kiss was warm and deep, and it made Ethari’s toes tingle.

“Hey, come up for air already,” someone said teasingly.

Ethari twitched in surprise, and Runaan let the kiss go, but he kept a hand on Ethari’s shoulder as he looked aside with a serious expression. “Riati. The Moon hasn’t claimed your soul yet, I see.”

“We both know you’re the one who’s gonna die first, Runaan,” the shorter, slender elf said, his tone cool and sharp. One of his dark horns were adorned with three rings, and he wore the same corset, robe, and mantle that Ethari had, but in light blue with teal accents. The markings across his cheeks were swirls, which Ethari appreciated, each split down the middle as marked members of the High Grove and their families.

Ethari tensed at the newcomer’s stance, but Runaan squeezed his shoulder warmly. Then Runaan and Riati grinned and threw their arms around each other, hugging tightly and chuckling. Ethari grinned and relaxed. This must be one of Runaan’s many cousins.

“Ethari, never play shadowknuckles with this elf,” Runaan said, as he held Riati in a loose neck hold. “He cheats.”

Riati pretended to be highly offended and elbowed Runaan lightly in the gut, causing the assassin to step back sharply with an oof. “A misunderstanding of the rules, I assure you,” Riati said primly, though the grin that flickered around his lips was not one that held interest in rules. “And this must be your new love, Runaan? He’s very handsome.”

Ethari blushed and only barely caught himself before he ran a nervous hand through his somewhat smoothed locks.

Runaan tucked his hands behind his back in a formal pose. “Ethari, may I present Prince Riati of the Moonshadow Elves, my mother’s sister’s son, and guardian of the Wilding.”

“The Wilding?” Ethari repeated.

“All that falls outside Cousin Athara’s Balance belongs to the Wilding,” Riatia intoned, before smirking and chuckling. “My mother serves on the High Grove in the Second Ring. We’re more metaphorical than the fuddy-duddies like Runaan here, who have actual jobs.” He swatted Runaan on the arm, making his crystal swoop jingle.

“Ah,” Ethari said faintly, as he entirely failed to keep up with all of Riati’s jargon. His eyes flicked to Runaan for a quick prompt.

But Riati saw and slipped in between the other two elves, taking Ethari by the hand and pulling him close for the first few steps of the Holly Rondel. “Oh,” he murmured in Ethari’s ear, “Runaan hasn’t bored you to death with all the inner workings of the High Grove? Well, not to worry, I’ll be happ—”

Runaan reached right between the elves and freed Ethari bodily from Riati’s grasp, spinning through and pulling Ethari into the next few steps of the dance. Ethari’s lavender armscarf fluttered wildly as Runaan spun him, and Runaan’s own turquoise armscarf caught the breeze and billowed brightly. Then he paused with Ethari on the far side from Riati and turned back to his shorter cousin. “You know what happens to those who wander outside the cycle too long, Riati. They get acquainted with me,” he said lightly. “Professionally.”

Riati was far from cowed, though. He crossed his arms and pouted prettily. “I’ll claim the rest of that dance later, then. Ethari, it was a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the High Grove, and to Moonhollow.”

“Th-Thank you,” Ethari stammered, still trying to pick up on Riati’s mercurial moods.

Runaan swept his mantle in front of him with a quick, stiff bow and a mocking tip of his horns. “I’ll see you at the table, Riati.”

“I’ll look for you, then.” Riati’s even teeth bared in a pretty smile that seemed ever so slightly threatening.

But Runaan was pulling Ethari away toward the open floor near one of the two waterfalls that fell in through the flattened dome overhead.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ethari murmured. He kept a tight grip on Runaan’s hand.

“Not at all, my light,” Runaan reassured him. “Riati is, in a word, chaos. When princes of the forest are elflings, we’re all tested to see what our inclinations are, and the strongest in each category is raised to fulfill one of the sacred duties of the Moonshadow elves, with an eye to take over from one of the High Grove someday. Usually our own parents, but sometimes it changes. Riati tested highest for Wilding.”

“What does that really mean, though?”

“It means he’s a terrible Moonshadow. But sometimes, we need terrible Moonshadows to think outside the rules.”

Ethari blinked in surprise.

“Pray take your places for the Mistletoe Circle,” the seneschal boomed.

The elves all separated and began to line up in circles of six, all the way around the vast room. Even those seated and chatting rose and swanned out to join in the dancing circles.

Ethari followed Runaan to a circle near the waterfall and stood palm to palm with him, next to two other pairs of dancers, waiting for the music to begin. Uncertain and nervous, he pressed his hand against Runaan’s and felt his palm begin to sweat. Past Runaan’s shoulder, the waterfall’s dark cascade caught his eye.

“It’s… black,” he blurted.

“The shadowfall, yes.” The music swelled from all corners of the room, and Runaan took the lead.

Ethari followed him, recognizing elements from Silvergrove dances and eagerly twirling through them with his beloved. Runaan’s mood lifted fully as Ethari threw himself into dancing with him, letting his mantle swing wide and flutter close around his legs as he spun and stepped. He let his fingers trail up Runaan’s bare arm, across his silver cuffs, across his shoulders, and down his silken sleeve, and Runaan claimed his hand and spun him through the next steps. Halfway through the dance, Ethari actually got Runaan to laugh for a moment. The way the other two dancers stared, that seemed to be a rare thing—or at least it had been when Runaan still lived at the palace. Ethari tucked his smile deep down in his heart.

The dance ended, and Runaan let Ethari spin him around an extra couple of times as the last notes died away. Runaan’s cheeks were pink with exertion, and his smile was easy and warm, and Ethari wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him again.

“It’s not called the Mistletoe Circle for nothing, Ethari,” Runaan murmured. He captured Ethari’s hands and dropped a soft kiss on each.

“Oh, I… I don’t know this part—”

“Yes, you do.” Runaan leaned in and kissed him, smelling of silk and spice, tasting of berries and honey. His fingers interlaced with Ethari’s, and he stood right against Ethari, so close that Ethari could feel his chest heaving for breath after the dance.

Ethari really couldn’t help the little whine that slipped over his tongue. He leaned his forehead against Runaan’s and panted quietly.

Runaan curled his fingers through Ethari’s. “Come on. This party’s just getting started. And I want to share every bit of it with you.”

Ethari’s grin was as wide as the forest. “Then lead on, my prince.”

[perlelas]

😭

FIVE. FIVEFIVEIFBEIDBE

“Hasn’t this addiction done enough damage already?” Ethari’s voice emanated from beneath a mound of covers. Unlike his touch last night, his voice ran cold, like a distant icy stream.

Runaan froze in the dark, back to Ethari and the bed, hands clutching the small vial of nightsoul he didn’t think his husband even knew about. The assassin always took a sip early in the morning on his way out to train, when Ethari was still abed. Rayla had been living with them for a month now, and he’d never commented before. 

“Runaan. I asked you a question.”

His hands tightened around the little glass container. “I heard you.”

“And?”

Runaan scrambled in the shadows, fearing what Ethari’s beams of light would reveal--to both of them. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

I really don’t. He could mean many things. I’m just not assuming I know which one--

“Your vaunted quest for honor is driving me crazy, love. You’re never here anymore.”

...Oh. Not the nightsoul, then.

But Ethari wasn’t finished. Blankets rustled softly as he sat up. He drew a swirly on top of a sleeping potted mushroom on his nightstand, and it woke with a cool bluish glow. It cast Runaan’s shadow large on the wall in front of the assassin, and Runaan stilled amid his own darkness, not wishing to be seen. “The day we wed,” Ethari continued, “you said you were giving your heart to me. But we both know it already belonged to Xadia. I’m just your side piece. But it’s getting old watching you sneak out of my bed every morning to go spend all day with him instead.”

Runaan blinked at the unexpected metaphor. “Xadia has my heart,” he allowed slowly. “But I don’t kiss it on the mouth.” He pivoted, hiding the nightsoul vial behind his back.

Ethari’s eyes dragged down Runaan’s person, coolly appreciative of his bare chest and hip-hugging pants. The sight roused the craftsman from his blankets, but as he stepped closer, his expression was taut. “You’re letting it fuck you over, though.”

Runaan’s eyes widened at Ethari’s language.

Ethari shrugged one big shoulder. “Couldn’t be helped. It was punny. But my point still stands, Runaan. You’re more Xadia’s bitch than my husband right now, and I kind of hate it a little bit.”

Runaan stared, stricken, at Ethari’s tired anger. “I... I’m sorry...”

Ethari studied his face for a long moment, and a realization passed over him like the trailing edge of a dark cloud, lifting his brows and softening the lines of his mouth as the moonlight returned once again. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to sound like I’m angry with you. I’m not. Not really.”

“With Xadia, then?” Runaan asked softly. With my entire purpose for existing?

“Maybe a smidge.” Ethari eased closer, sliding warm hands down Runaan’s arms, drawing him into a hug. “I could never be angry with y- What’s this?” he asked, as his fingers found the vial Runaan had been hiding behind his back.

Runaan panicked and clutched it tightly, giving away its importance. Don’t see this. Don’t see me like this.

But Ethari’s fingers had always been quick. He had the vial liberated in half a second. Runaan didn’t know whether to parry or flee, so he tried to do both. A soft gasp of dismay fled his lips as one hand caught Ethari’s wrist, and his back foot retreated toward the bedroom door.

Ethari tightened his grip on the little container. His dark brows tightened into his analytical expression as he studied it, completely ignoring Runaan’s grip.

Runaan’s shoulders slumped. Still panicking and giving myself away around this elf, I see. Couldn’t ever hide anything for long.

Ethari turned the little vial around until he spotted the etched rune that held the nightsoul’s unnatural efficacy in place. His mouth fell open, and then he froze. Ethari was always in motion, even in his sleep. He was an elf of life and light and love. He couldn’t not move. But in that moment, Runaan saw all the light in his husband’s soul leave him, and he went still.

No. That’s my job. Come back.

He squeezed Ethari’s wrist hard. “I can explain.”

“You can’t even come close,” Ethari murmured through numb lips. “You know what nightsoul did to my uncle.”

Runaan did. He’d been the one to find him, lost within his own mind, wandering the Forest during a new Moon, shrieking like a soul being actively damned, unable to hold to his physical form any longer as the Moon’s power waned away. He’d watched Ethari’s uncle splinter into smoky shadow, still howling, until he blessedly vanished with one final anguished cry, released from his torment at last. And then he’d been foolish enough to tell Ethari the truth of what he’d seen.

“I know what I’m doing,” Runaan said. “It won’t end like that.”

“You’re saying he didn’t know what he was doing?” Ethari challenged.

Runaan’s gaze sharpened. “He didn’t. He used too much, too soon, and he-”

“He was eighty-four, Runaan. That’s not ‘soon.’“

“He wasn’t an assassin, either,” Runaan shot back. “Do you really think I have fifty more years in me, at the rate I’m going? I have to run full tilt across Xadia whenever Avizandum says so, and if I so much as sneeze wrong, the wrong people will die, and I might be one of them. I. Must. Be. Perfect. For as long as I have. I must be perfect. Do you see?” His chest heaved with too many emotions to name, and his eyes clung to Ethari’s, demanding understanding.

But Ethari was horrified. He thumbed the etched rune on the vial’s glassy surface. 

One part deathberry extract, one part moonberry, and one part forbidden new moon magic, nightsoul was an accursed potion that had no business existing at all. The fact that it had to be coaxed into remaining in the world should have been a warning flag to all. But the desperate always found ways around the rules. Ethari had never expected his law-and-order husband to be one of them.

“Runaan... every time you drink this, you use up one day of your future.”

Runaan’s nod was crisp. “Yes. Exactly.”

“You’re shortening your lifespan.”

“I’m ensuring that I have a lifespan. This is just what it costs.”

Ethari’s bottom lip trembled. His eyes lingered on the vial in his hand, then they lifted to Runaan’s, revealing a watery shimmer. “Your life is not a currency to be spent, my heart.”

Runaan blinked in surprise. How could he not know, after all this time?

I am an assassin. 

I am a tool. 

I am Xadia’s will. 

I am justice. 

I am balance. 

I am the sword. 

I am the Way. 

I am Moonshadow.

I am an assassin. 

With steady brows and a tight jaw, Runaan murmured, “Ethari. My life has always been currency to be spent. I’m just choosing to spend a little of it for myself, before others choose the price for me. Because someone will, someday.”

Two tears slipped down Ethari’s cheeks, losing themselves along his blue markings. “But why? Why do you want to leave me sooner?” he begged.

Runaan’s control snapped, and he clutched at Ethari’s arms. “I don’t! I don’t,” he blurted. “Moon and shadow, Ethari. I take this so I’m good enough to come home my family at the end of every day. So I can survive long enough to train Rayla to survive everything the world will throw at her. So I can do the job, and spare anyone else from having to do it in my place. I take this so I can live to see as many days with you as I can wrest from my fate. I take this so that when I fall...” But he faltered, not wanting to speak of such things so blatantly.

Ethari let out a hurt growl. “No, there’s no stopping now. Say it. When you fall...” he prompted.

Runaan’s gaze dropped to Ethari’s pendant. “When I fall,” he dutifully continued, “I will have the bright memories of as many good days with you as I can carry. When I fall, whether to blade or shadow,” he added, tracing a finger lightly along his husband’s cheek, “I will have known thousands of days of your voluminous and refulgent love. And then, because of you, I will be worthy of dying a good death. Because of you, I will be ready to meet it.”

Ethari clapped a hand over a sudden sob. His head shook from side to side, hating Runaan’s soft words, hating Xadia, hating fate. Runaan gently pulled him into a hug and held him softly, feeling his shoulders shake. Ethari dug his fingers into Runaan’s ponytail and squeezed it, and his hot tears ran down Runaan’s chest as he buried his face against his husband’s neck.

“It’s not so bad, my heart,” Runaan said soothingly. “Every day, you have two of me at once. Twice my love.”

Ethari snorted wetly against his neck. “That explains your stamina last night.”

Runaan stiffened in surprise at Ethari’s unexpected direction, and he barked a sudden laugh. “That, too, my heart.”

Ethari stood straight again and wiped his eyes. “I’m never going to grow old with you, am I?” he asked in a trembling voice.

Runaan took a deep breath and felt the air of a future day fill his lungs. “Such was never our fate. My destiny was set long before I loved you.”

Ethari studied the vial of nightsoul with thoughtful brows and pursed lips. “I can’t bring myself to give this to you. But I will hold you while you take it.” 

He opened his palm and let the vial rest there. Its dark liquid swirled ominously, promising twice the life for twice the cost and then some.

Runaan stepped into the circle of his free arm and let himself be held. Then he plucked the vial from Ethari’s hand, bit the stopper free with the side of his mouth, and spilled a measure of the dark concoction onto his tongue.

Ethari’s sudden kiss, hard and eager and moonlit with complexity, was everything he had ever wanted.