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Ethari had been up for almost three hours now. Of course, this was not particularly unusual for him of late, but this time, it seemed different. Possibly it was the cooler weather setting in or the new pine scent from the wood shipment he had just gotten. Or, perhaps more likely still, it was the presence of the long-haired assassin in the adjoining bedroom to the small sitting room he was in. It had been only a moonrise or two since Runaan had returned home from his first mission as assassin team leader, and Ethari knew the mission had taken a toll on him. He wasn’t sure what, but something had happened on that mission that he deeply wounded Runaan, inside and out. He knew that Runaan had been stressed about this mission, but it seemed it had gone even worse than he had anticipated. It hurt Ethari that he couldn’t do something to help, but, in their five years of marriage, Ethari had learned that it was better not to pry. Runaan would tell him when he was ready.
Ethari was just about to put his mug in the sink and return to bed to reattempt sleep, but a sharp cry of fear and anguish stopped him. Practically throwing the (thankfully) wooden mug onto the table, he ran back into their room. Runaan, sitting bolt upright, clutching the sheets, and breathing heavily, was staring blankly at the expanse of bed in front of him.
Ethari approached him slowly so as not to startle him, and sat down at the edge of his side of the bed. He took his husband’s hand gently and whispered, “Runaan?”
Runaan looked up quickly, as if just realizing he was there and, with a questioning look, muttered, “Ethari.”
“I heard you screaming.” Ethari explained, “Another nightmare?”
Runaan ducked his head, “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a dream.”
Ethari gripped Runaan’s hand tighter, “You can tell me, you know. Maybe I can help.”
There was a moment of silence, and Ethari was sure he was going to close up again. To write it off as nothing and try to go back to sleep, to ignore it. To his great surprise though, after a brief stint of silence, he spoke.
“Erith was killed.”
Ethari’s heart lurched with compassion. Erith had been one of the newest members of the assassin’s corp. Amazingly talented and perceptive, the young elfling had been rather eager to join the mission, despite how clear Runaan had made it that it would be extremely dangerous. Now, he was dead, and if Ethari had to guess, Runaan blamed himself.
“I’m so sorry, love,” he said, waiting for the rest of what Runaan had to say.
Runaan shook his head, “It’s my fault. I should never have let him go. He was too young. Too inexperienced. I should have told him to stay behind.”
“Runaan.” Ethari began gently, “What happened?”
Runaan’s face hardened in the familiar way it always did when he was about to talk about something he did not want to, “We almost made it. There was only one more target left to go, but he was heavily guarded. We weren’t sure what to do, but Erith...he...he reckoned he could cause some sort of diversion and lead them away. I told Callisto to go with him, to provide some sort of backup, and, for a while, it worked. It seemed we were going to be okay, but as we were leaving, an arrow caught Erith in the throat, and he…” Runaan paused to collect himself, “he died instantly. There was nothing we could do.”
“Well that’s it then, isn’t it?” Ethari asked, “There wasn’t anything you could do, Runaan. It’s not your fault.”
Runaan sighed, “Perhaps. But I can’t help but think if I had told him to stay with us if I had sent someone else to distract the guards with Callisto, he might’ve been able to get back to the group in time. He wouldn’t have died. If I just hadn’t let him come on the mission in the first place, or if I hadn’t given in to his request, he might’ve lived.”
Ethari climbed onto the bed all the way and pulled his husband close, “It isn’t your fault, Runaan. Erith made his choice. I’m sure he knew the risks as a Moonshadow assassin. He knew what could happen, and still, he offered to sacrifice himself. You tried your best to convince him not to go.”
“But I could’ve-”
Ethari put a finger t his lips to silence him, “No, Runaan. I saw how often you tried to convince him not to. I saw all the things you did to make him see that he was not ready, and he still chose to go. None of this is your fault. None of it.”
Then, just as he did after every mission, Ethari kissed Runaan’s head and whispered in a soft voice, “What can I do, love?”
Runaan drew in a shuddering breath, “Just...hold me?”
“Of course.”
So Ethari pulled him impossibly closer and held him. Because, in a profession where repressing emotion is law, even the best elves need an outlet of comfort. So Ethari held him. He held him as a few tears escaped his turquoise eyes, he held him as he slowly drifted off to sleep, and he was still there, holding him, when Runaan woke the next morning