Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was strangely quiet as they walked home. Peaceful.

Perhaps it wasn't quite accurate for Callum to be calling Runaan and Ethari’s house home, but… what was hers, was his, no? When Rayla had been left with nowhere to go, Katolis had become her home. Now, he was the one in that position.

It was entitled, surely, but there was still a part of Callum not quite ready to forgive this place for what it did to her; the way he saw it, he was entitled to be here, to defend her if no one else would.

Not that he actually thought that would be a problem. Though, there was still a hint of doubt in his mind, actually considering if he would be forced to sleep outside, or something… 

But, no. He trusted Rayla—trusted she would stand by him even if her parents did turn out to be comically inconsiderate—anxiety-induced irrational thoughts be damned.

They were behind her dads, hands swaying between them as they made their way across the Silvergrove. Whenever he glanced at her, he found her with a soft smile stuck to her face. It was hard not to feel just as happy for her.

He started recognizing his surroundings from the first visit, and he knew when they passed Ethari’s workshop and continued towards what he assumed to be the family’s dwelling. The air remaining silent (because what was there to say that was more important than getting them home at long last?), they climbed the steps leading up the house-embedded tree trunk. He saw Runaan take a deep breath, then turn back to Rayla.

She looked nervous; she was scratching Stella on her shoulder, as was often an apprehensive habit. Callum squeezed her hand, and it earned him a smile. Though, when Runaan looked at him, he cleared his throat, unimpressed eyes darting between his face and antlers.

Perhaps “no sticks indoors” was a customary household rule when you lived in a forest.

Callum hastily did away with the disguise, chuckling nervously.

Ethari fiddled with the latches for a mere moment before he opened and held the door for his husband. Laughing softly at her hesitation, he then looked to Rayla. She let Callum drop her hand as she forced confidence and strode into the house.

Callum watched as she spun slowly, taking the space in with awe. She had thought she’d never see it again, after all.

He would have missed it, too; while one might assume that, after living in a castle, anything less extravagant would pale in comparison, but on the contrary, the cold, gaping stone interiors of the castle had nothing on the cozy space. Though it was undeniably Moonshadow, with cool colors, the tree’s foliage peeking through in several spots, and swirly, circular motifs heavily present in the architecture, he couldn’t help but think back to the little cottage he was born in. 

Rayla gravitated to the window, reaching out and rubbing the material of the curtains between her fingers. Once she had determined the home in front of her was really there, she turned to Callum, a wide grin on her face.

He had been watching her from the doorway, but he then glanced hesitantly at Ethari. The elf raised his eyebrows in a gesture Callum took to mean “go for it.”

The door clicked shut behind him and she stood facing him, biting her lip as she smiled.

“Okay,” she said to Runaan and Ethari. “I’m starving.”

Ethari laughed, putting an arm around her shoulder and leading her to the eating area, Runaan following close behind. “Then we’ll have anything you like—your favorite, how about?”

“Crescent pies?” she asked, adorably excited.

He nodded. “With roasted ruby potatoes. You go wash up,” he said, leaving her with a pat on the shoulder. Then, to Runaan: “Lend me a hand, love? You know you’re better with knives.”

Runaan sighed, although it was evident that the idea appealed to him; it seemed he wasn’t one to sit around doing nothing, no matter how few days he’d been in this plane of existence, and Ethari was clearly well aware. “I suppose I’ve gotten out of kitchen duties long enough.”

Rayla approached Callum where he had been standing awkwardly, grabbing his hand and moving to lead him from the room (he had to hold on to Sneezles to ensure the glowtad didn't go flying from his scarf, again), before she stopped dead in her tracks. Biting her lip nervously, she called, “Ethari?”

“Hm?” Ethari turned in the kitchen, facing her with an armsful of vegetables.

“Is… is my, um—Is it still—?”

He smiled and nodded, sparing a brief glance at Callum before returning to his husband’s side at the sink.

Rayla resumed whisking him away; she pulled him to a door down a hall and a small staircase, hand shaking as she turned the knob. The door gave some resistance when she tried to open it, as if it had stayed shut a long time. Callum failed to make out the details of the room in the darkness, but as Rayla stepped through the threshold, small lights across the ceiling began to light up. The illumination traveled from the corners to a large, organic-looking lantern in the center that seemed to bloom with light.

He realized where he was standing, and it hit him like a punch in the gut—a soft, warm punch, that was. He’d wondered about this place many times, though he always struggled to picture it, but even still, he knew Rayla’s bedroom when he saw it. 

There were pale purple walls and wooden bookcases, a blue rug and an assortment of trunks and chests in various corners, bags and clothing hung over a chair or laid on the floor, an unmade bed with messy blankets and pillows.

Rayla was giddy at the sight, if a little amused by the state (though, they both knew she hadn’t gotten any neater.) “Wow,” she mused, running a hand over the thick layer of dust on the sheets. “He really hasn’t touched it for two years.” Stella ran down her arm, pouncing over the blanket as if she were playing in fresh snow.

Callum set his bag down by the door, still enchanted by the space. “So, this is like… a time capsule? From when you were fifteen?”

She nodded, perching on the bed and letting out a long, content breath.

It was inconsequential, sure, but that didn’t change the fact that being in her childhood room came with a strange kind of intimacy that gripped Callum like nothing else. She had always been more inclined to listen to his divulgences of what it was like to grow up human (although his experiences were far removed from most) rather than go into detail about her life in the Silvergrove. But he craved to know that side of her. Taking note of every knickknack and scuff on the furniture let him connect a thread to everything he knew about her today and it let his imagination supply a wealth of potential stories behind them.

He tentatively sat next to her and she leaned into his side just so. His hand brushed against something beside him, which he found to be a small stuffed dragon, faded and well-loved. A smile curled his mouth as he held the toy in his lap. Rayla propped her chin on his shoulder, chuckling softly and running her fingers over the fabric.

She then stood, wandering over to the window next to the bed. He set Sneezles down beside Stella and joined her once more where she watched the evening processions of the grove, scored by a melodic kind of cricket chirping. It was less of a window and more of a series of cutouts in the wall, he realized; he couldn’t resist the compulsion to stick his head through and look down. Rayla snorted at him, tugging him back through gently by the hair. 

She ruffled it, grinning slyly. “Yup.” Gesturing to the window: “You’re gonna have to keep it down with this.”

Callum snickered, feeling his face heat.

With a sigh, she continued. “Great for sneaking out as a kid, though. Y’know, besides the twisted ankles.” She turned to find him smiling softly at her. “What?”

“Just… happy you’re home.”

Her lips parted and her eyes went glassy, gazing at him with sincere gratitude. But she smiled, and said, “Me too.”

He stepped closer to her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The suddenness with which she pulled him in was startling at first, but he quickly melted into the passionate kiss. She gasped in his mouth, sending a chill down his spine, and the way they clutched at each other was frenzied, emotional. It ended as quickly as it began when Rayla pulled back, giving their lungs a chance to catch up as she connected their foreheads.

“Okay,” she chuckled breathlessly. “We still have to have dinner with my parents, you know.”

The sentence hit Callum like a boulder. Dinner with her parents.

“...You okay there?” He knew he was just staring, but he didn’t know what else to do with his face. She snorted, “Calm down, dummy. It doesn’t have to be a whole thing.”

“Doesn’t it, though? Kinda?” he said.

“Hm.” She slipped from his arms, placing a brief hand on his chest before backing away to the door. “Give me a moment, then? Just… wait here, take a breather.” And then she was gone.

Callum sat back down on her bed, mind suddenly racing.

He would likely have to get used to the idea of sleeping outside.

Chapter Text

Rayla could feel the soft smile curl her lips as she wandered up the hall, hearing the low voices radiating from the kitchen.

She peered around the corner, heart warm at the sight of Ethari hugging his husband from the side as Runaan diced vegetables. Though, she couldn't help but shake her head at the man's dedication to such a meaningless task when he hadn't seen the love of his life for two years.

"Hey," she warned as she passed behind them, heading to the door to shed her boots.

"Hi, Rayla," Ethari said, mirroring her joy. Runaan, for his part, looked less annoyed by her interruption than ever before, but she didn't miss the small glance to his left when Ethari asked, "Where's Callum?"

Rayla sighed as she unbuttoned her cloak, chuckling to herself at the likely-real image of Callum on her bed, head in his hands as he freaked out over meeting the parents, or whatever. "He's, uh, well…" She decided that honesty made him look the best. "He's crazy nervous, trying to prepare himself for dinner, I guess."

Ethari furrowed his brows as he got to work on the pastry dough. "Why's that?"

She took a seat at the table, gesturing to the two of them. "Y'know… He just wants to make a good impression, is all."

Her father chuckled incredulously. "He's spent the better part of a week with Runaan, and he's intimidated now?"

"To be fair," she said, "we outnumbered Runaan. And he's way more comfortable being judgy with you here."

"I can hear you, I hope you know," the elf in question interjected, swiping the vegetables off of the cutting board and into a skillet. "And besides," he continued, turning, and leaning back against the counter with crossed arms. "Whether I like it or not, I owe him my life—several times over. He's made a good enough impression."

Ethari's eyes widened. "You have quite a bit to catch me up on."

"I know he has," Rayla shrugged, choosing to address Runaan's comment first. "But it's admittedly kinda hard to think about all that when he gets all fidgety and ramble-y, so, I'm just telling you to cut him a break."

"We'll behave, Rayla," Ethari said with a fond roll of his eyes.

"Buuuuut…" She tucked her hair behind her ear, feeling her face flush in spite of herself. "If you really need me to tell you why he's great…"

"Some context would be nice," he smiled in encouragement.

She started with the basics: he was a prince, but not by birth.

"What?" she asked when she noticed Ethari's amused face.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just didn't know you had such high standards."

She scoffed and moved on to the more exciting part: his magic.

"An Ocean mage as well, eh?" Ethari echoed, laying out ovals of dough onto the baking tray. "I only noticed the Sky Primal stone. I didn't realize humans had so many of them."

Rayla wiped the beginning of a grin off the corner of her mouth, wanting to lead up to the big reveal. "Well, the first Primal stone was from Katolis, but he had to break it to hatch the dragon egg—it was a whole thing—but his staff is new; the queen gifted it to him after her Sky mage was killed—a, uh, whole other thing. Anyhow," she exhaled, "he doesn't need it. Or an Ocean stone."

Runaan, who, thus far, had stayed silent as he stirred the filling over the fire, saved his husband the confusion. "The first human Primal mage in recent history. Her standards are rather high, it would seem."

He didn't appear particularly impressed himself, but Rayla could still hear the smallest bubble of pride in his voice.

She could hear her own pride in her voice, smug and unfamiliar, but it left her with a funny (but good) feeling in her heart; there had been times where she'd let herself forget how incredible the love of her life really was, so the reminder was nice.

From there, there wasn't much more to detail besides the entire chronology of their adventures. A brief summary of returning the Dragon Prince, as she was sure it was all relatively familiar. Then, an overview of the last few months, leaving room to emphasize Callum helping her with Runaan's coin, Callum standing up to Finnegrin (despite Soren also deserving his due credit), Callum being the reason they got their hands on some of the rarest artifacts in the entire world, Callum performing the spell, and Callum getting them out of Katolis.

She didn't withhold the less-favorable parts of his story. She told them about the dark magic, but she also told them all about how he did it to save them—to save her—and about how he'd undergone a perilous ritual to rid himself of it.

The dark parts of her journey, however, well…

She'd wanted to—she really had—but when it came to the time between the conflict, she'd felt her throat go tight, her palms sweat, her heart seize.

She wasn't even able to tell Runaan she'd been Ghosted, and she'd known that he would understand, that he would know it to be a misunderstanding as well as she did.

How was she supposed to look them in the eyes, mere hours after being given another chance, and admit that she'd made a horrible, stupid choice and doubled down for the last two years, knowingly inflicting pain and misery on the boy who she'd just explained was more loving, selfless, and deserving than anyone she'd ever known?

He'd told her it was all in the past now, that he understood why she'd done it (even if he never could have) and that he'd never hold it against her; it shouldn't have mattered what anyone else thought of it.

But she was still ashamed. Shame was all she'd ever really known, she supposed.

So, she simply prayed they wouldn't notice the suspiciously empty stretch of time in the middle of their story.

Maybe it was the overwhelming amount of information in total, perhaps they weren't even expecting her to lay out everything for them in the first place, but it worked.

Ethari took a peek inside the oven before turning to Rayla. "Dinner's nearly ready. I'm rather eager to see if this boy really lives up to your word."

She sighed, getting up. "I told you, he certainly won't tonight. That was the point."

The delectable, nostalgic aroma was even more pronounced down the hall, and Rayla needed to take a minute of appreciation for everything about the moment she was in right now, as she'd had to multiple times throughout the evening.

She eased open the door, finding Callum sat on the floor, back against her bed, sketchbook in his lap and a noticeable bounce in his leg.

He looked up at her entry. "Hi."

"Hey," she grinned, walking over and sparing a few pets for Stella and Sneezles on the bed before kneeling in front of him. "Dinner's just about done."

"Okay," he breathed, tone unreadable (to most except her, of course) and face blank. His gaze was fixed on his book despite his drawing hand staying still as stone.

She laughed softly at his precious brand of pathetic, shuffling forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his. "You'll be fine, dummy. I've been out there talking you up this whole time."

"Really?" He leaned into her touch, pressing his cheek against her shoulder. "Oh, no, now it's gonna look like I sent you out there to do that while I hunkered down in here, and—"

She lightly flicked him on the skull. "I also told them how stupid you were being right now, so, you're fine."

"Do you promise to still love me if I screw up horrifically?" he mumbled.

"Hmm," she mused, snickering. "Like, if you… end up cussing them out? Somehow find a way to insult their mothers? Blab about the indecent things you've done to their daughter? Dare to slander Ethari's cooking?"

"Don't be putting ideas in my head," he groaned, throwing his head back against her mattress.

"Well, yes, I promise I'll still love you, even if you somehow manage that. It'd be a little impressive, actually, even for you." With a kiss to his forehead and a pat to his cheek, she got up and offered her hand. "Dinner time."

Chapter Text

He quickly loosened his death grip on Rayla's hand before they rounded the corner to the kitchen, his arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

Ethari was tossing a dishtowel over his shoulder as he swiveled to face them. "You mind setting the table you two?" he asked, casual as ever—though, Callum supposed, besides the whole reunion aspect, this was supposed to be casual.

"Making Callum earn his keep, are you?" Rayla joked, leading him to the cupboard.

The elf winked. "Even a prince can help out every once in a while."

Callum laughed, hoping he didn't sound as shaken as he was. He didn't mean anything by that, right? It was just a joke; he probably wasn't implying that he thought Callum was a spoiled, helpless child who didn't know how to do anything for himself. He probably didn't know that that was true to an extent. Right?

Rayla continued to steer him through small talk, as well as the utensil drawer. "When's the last time you ate without fifty different forks and knives in front of you?" she asked, elbowing him gently in the side and handing him four bundles of silverware.

The last time had been the inn where they'd stayed, but there was a whole host of reasons he wouldn't be answering with that.

"Is that true? All the things you hear about soup spoons and salad forks?" Ethari asked, a lopsided smile on his face as he took the stack of plates Rayla brought to him.

Okay. A simple question he could answer. "Well, yeah," Callum shrugged, setting out the silverware. "We didn't do a ton of 'formal' dinners, though. When I was a kid, maybe, but…" For the past two years, he'd spent a significant portion of meals holed up in his bedroom.

He realized he had trailed off, glancing up and noticing the subtle knit to Rayla's brow that said she knew all the ways in which "family dinner" could be a tricky subject. She brushed it off almost immediately, though, saving him once again. "Runaan, Ethari, d'you mind if I get a plate for Stella and Sneezles? I won't make you share the table with them. Tonight," she requested, and Ethari nodded. "Anyhow," she addressed Callum once more, "you won't even need one fork for crescent pies."

"You don't need a fork, apparently," Runaan sighed, setting the first two plates down at the table. "Not all of us enjoy eating with our hands."

"They taste better that way!" she laughed, gesturing widely in contest.

He shook his head in content defeat. "I suppose you've earned that right."

Callum chuckled, instinctively taking her hand and holding it up as they sat down, and instantly regretting it. Obviously, it was supposed to be an innocent gesture—teasingly chivalrous, if anything, as he took great pleasure in the way she blushed and rolled her eyes whenever he held the door for her or pulled her chair out. But would it look performative? Uncomfortably affectionate for the circumstances, at the least? Was he embarrassing her?

He dropped it as quickly as he could—maybe a little too quickly? Did it look impolite?—and tried to keep his eyes fixed on the plate in front of him, though he saw in his periphery that Runaan and Ethari both had eyes on him.

Nearly making him jump, Rayla took his hand back, and then reached for the other, fiddling with his cuffs. "Gloves off, your highness," she grinned, "I ought to show you how it's done."

"Okay, okay!" Callum laughed, going to take them off himself, then pausing. "I should probably, uh, go put these away. Y'know… magic dirt, and all." He looked to Rayla, not knowing whether she wanted to follow him or not, nor what he wanted her to do.

"And Rayla," Ethari said, an eyebrow raised playfully, "You know the rule. No armor at the table."

"Right." She huffed without the least bit of genuine annoyance, standing and nodding for Callum to follow her. He jumped up after her—far too eagerly, he thought after the fact.

He exhaled deeply when they made it back to her room, tugging his gloves off. "How am I doing?"

Rayla took them from him, tossing them on her bed alongside the pauldron she removed from her shoulder. "Moon above, you're doing fine," she chuckled in disbelief.

"Okay, I—Sorry."

"It's okay. It is cute." She pecked him on the cheek. "Just… pretty ridiculous, as well."

It was easier, then, to follow her back down the hall, to sit at the table, to laugh along with everyone. He was spared the need to overembellish his enjoyment of the meal, because it was genuinely delicious—the flavorful mushrooms and fresh herbs and sweet apples and whatever else was contained within that flaky crust, no doubt even better after having nothing but rations since setting off for the Starscraper. Rayla's relish was just as nice to see; he hadn't seen her eat this much (let alone willingly) since she'd been back. No one objected when the animals finished their own dinner and found their way up to the tabletop.

The conversation was kept remarkably light, centering around events Rayla and Runaan had missed out on, things they were looking forward to seeing again, things she promised to show Callum. There was a twinge of sadness to be heard, of course, but despite some forlorn, knowing sighs and an ever present tightness in Runaan's jaw, it was all rather optimistic. Callum picked up on the words not being said, though.

Although they never asked outright, there had been times where her fathers had given Rayla a subtle opening to talk about her last two years, and she swiftly sidestepped it every time. It wasn't hard to guess that she hadn't told them she'd left, and it wasn't surprising, either.

He felt she should, but…

Whenever she was ready.

He had to wonder if he, perhaps, wasn't the only one who could tell she was hiding something, because Runaan looked troubled throughout the whole meal, eyebrow furrowed as he kept checking out of the discussion.

Towards the end of the evening, Callum excused himself from the table for a moment. The second he left the room, he heard Runaan speak, sounding strained.

"Rayla, is there, maybe, something you're not…" He sighed. "Do you want me to say it?"

Her voice was shaken and quiet. "What?"

"About… them."

There was a pause.

"Your parents, Rayla."

He never fully decided, whether he should have stuck around to eavesdrop or not, make sure everything was okay—but he figured they deserved a moment alone for that, if nothing else. Initially, anyway. When he came back, he heard Rayla crying and made himself visible without the same consideration.

She was furiously wiping at her eyes with one hand, the other grasped tightly in Ethari's across the table. "And, I-I…" she sniffed, "I really thought—There was just nothing I could…" She trailed off when she noticed Callum.

He didn't care about anything in that moment besides her; he didn't even glance at her parents as he strode across the room and swept her up into his arms on the bench where she sat. He rubbed circles into her back and she shook like a leaf against him.

"I couldn't save them."

He held her tighter. "You did, Rayla. You set them free."

She pulled back just enough to face Runaan and Ethari, holding onto the arm he still had around her. The former had his eyes shut tight with pain, leaning his head against his husband—wide eyed with tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

Rayla inhaled shakily. "I… I'm sor—"

"Don't," Callum and Ethari said in perfect unison, the both of them glancing at each other in slight shock.

It was enough to make her crack a faint smile.

Chapter Text

Callum had said that he wished—somehow, someway—they could've known each other as kids. Rayla appreciated the thought, but she knew that wouldn't have been a good idea.

She'd have scared him off long before they could have gotten to this point.

Still, he was endlessly amused by all the tales of youth Runaan and Ethari were relaying to him as they lounged around the living room, sipping warm cider.

She mostly didn't mind, and her dads could tell when a certain subject was veering a little too far into mildly upsetting territory. She offered up some of Callum's that she knew, and it seemed to do a good job of humanizing him; she observed several small moments in which Ethari's eyebrows would rise just so, or where Runaan would give an innocuous nod, all from the revelation that he hadn't grown up much different from any other kid (all things considered).

Most surprising of all was how nice it felt whenever her parents made it into the conversation. Rayla assumed all the fond memories would leave her—all of them, even—choked up and uncomfortable.

On the contrary, they the ability to discuss them without having to tiptoe, without needing to wordlessly emphasize that they were still condemned, without the anger and guilt and conflict. There was only shared grief and bittersweet remembrance.

She had just barely finished her glass when she yawned and Ethari sent her a soft look, saying, "I'm sure we're all exhausted—you three, especially."

Runaan nodded and took a final sip. "I think it best that we call it a night. I need a much harder drink for the rest of your childhood stories."

They laughed, and Rayla stood, stretching her back. As nice as it was to spend time with them after two years, and now they truly felt like a family, she was, indeed, exhausted. She needed a moment to rest, and she needed Callum—just… Callum.

"Callum," Ethari said in time with her thoughts. "You can stay in here tonight. The couch, or, we have some extra bedrolls, if you'd prefer—"

"Uh, yeah," Callum agreed rapidly, gaze darting to her a few times. "Yeah. Of course. I mean, whatever works for you—"

"Don't bother." Rayla waved a hand, hoping she was coming off nonchalant. "My room's fine, Ethari."

The elf's expression was noticeably forced, the corner of his placating smile twitching. "Rayla. I just think—"

She would not be sleeping rooms apart from him after what they'd been through—the last two years just as well as the last few days. She could, naturally, see where he was coming from, but he knew they weren't—or, at least, she wasn't—stupid, and he knew—or thought—they'd been together for a long time anyway, and, no matter what, she was an adult—

"Don't bother, love." Runaan interjected as he patted his husband on the shoulder. "They'll be fine." He looked at Rayla out of the corner of his eye, a nearly invisible smile on his face.

She straightened her spine, grabbing Callum's hand and facing Ethari. "Thank you, Runaan."

The warmth of his hand alone suggested that Callum was flustered and bloodmoon-red beside her.

Ethari looked equally surprised by the stamp of approval, but it was all he needed, apparently. "Alright," he sighed. After thinking on it for a moment more, he added: "The rolls are in the hall closet."

Eh, good enough.

Before any of them could change their minds, she tugged Callum away. "Mhm. Goodnight!" she called behind them.

She heard Ethari chuckle. "Goodnight, Rayla."

As the lights went on in her room, Callum hung in the doorway, hands behind his back. "Should I go grab the bedroll, or…?"

She pulled him in by the scarf and shut the door behind. "No, dummy."

It felt unimaginably good to be all wrapped up in each other again.

It had only been a couple of nights spent on the road beside Runaan, but after having only one truly together before it—not to mention all the stress of the past few days, it'd felt like another two years.

Now, the exhaustion and positive adrenaline and snoozing animals at their feet and general weirdness of being in this house kept the night's contents nice and clean, but it was just as well—them innocently intertwined in her bed, hushing each other's giggling, loving pecks and caresses sprinkled in between.

And she hadn't thought it possible that being in Callum's arms could feel any better than it already did regardless. Compared to a hammock and a single thin blanket, however, the cushy mattress and impossibly warm sheets and overall comfort was truly heaven on earth.

She was feathering her fingers through his hair, his mouth languid and even warmer on her jaw, when Rayla whispered her overdue gratitude against his scalp.

"Thank you. So much."

"For what?" he asked, voice softer than the head of a shadowpaw kitten.

"For getting me home."

He pulled back. "Rayla." Though he had taken up the tone he used to scold her when she was being too hard on herself, there was no annoyance or disappointment, nor even frustration or sadness in his gaze. "I didn't do that. You are the reason we're here."

He kissed her palm and brought it to his face, and she nearly teared up. "Can I at least thank you for something else, then?"

Nuzzling into her shoulder, he sighed happily. "Okay."

"Thank you for being here through all of it."

He laced their fingers together. "I will always be able to do that, at the very least."

Apparently, the Silvergrove was always just… strangely quiet.

There were chirping birds and distant village voices through the window, here and there, of course—but Callum found the nearly-silent atmosphere perfect for focusing on Rayla's cute little snores from where she slept on his chest. He must have stayed there in bed, awake, for ten, twenty minutes, and she never so much as stirred, even as he moved her wild hair out of their faces or absentmindedly ran his hand up her side. She really must've been exhausted—cozy, though.

He supposed it was early (not early enough for the light to still be so low and hazy in, say, Katolis), but he could tell he wouldn't be falling back asleep, and he didn't want to end up moving too much and waking her up, and he did have to pee, so…

With utmost care, he rolled her and managed to wriggle his body out from underneath. As he slipped away, she unconsciously re-settled herself against the pillows. It took everything in him to not press a kiss to her forehead before he left, but it was a miracle that she was still asleep and he didn't want to push it.

Crossing the room, he nearly slipped on the bedroll laid on the floor last night. They had—he had, mostly—figured, whether or not it was convincing, appearing as if they had respected Ethari's wishes was the least he could do. Though he glanced over his shoulder to see if the minuscule commotion had woken her up, the only one he found awake was Sneezles, crawling out from under Stella's arms and calling for Callum.

After getting himself somewhat ready, save for the rest of his clothes in Rayla's room, he tiptoed into the living area. It appeared deserted, so he took a seat on the lounge.

After he cracked open his sketchbook, he couldn't say how long it was until he heard the front door creak. He jumped despite himself, flinging his pencil to the floor and just barely catching Sneezles before the toad followed.

Ethari's eyes were wide as he stood in the doorway, but his smile was light. "Didn't mean to scare you there," he chuckled, heaving the (presumably full) water barrel into the room.

"No, that's—I didn't realize, uh—" Callum cleared his throat, gathering his ejected belongings (and glowtad). "It's all good—I mean, it is your house."

"Aye, but you're our guest," he shrugged, heading to the kitchen. "Could I interest you in a cup of tea?"

Would it be more rude to refuse or to potentially be an inconvenience? "If you don't mind."

He clearly didn't, as he took two mugs from the cupboard. He fixed the barrel in place on the counter, asking, "Is Rayla still asleep?"

Callum decided to resume his sketch while he waited. "Yeah. She hasn't been sleeping great"—for years, actually—"the… past few days, so," he shrugged, "I figured I'd, uh, let her sleep."

Ethari had filled a kettle and was placing it on a hook in the oven. "Ah. Well, she's not the only one sleeping later than usual."

"Runaan?" Callum guessed.

"Yep. And he's been waking up at dawn for as long as I've known him."

"That's what two years trapped inside a cursed object will do to you, I guess," Callum joked, regretting it as soon as it left his mouth, not even a polite laugh from Ethari present. "I-I'm sorry, I—"

"Hm? Oh, no." Ethari shook his head, seemingly snapped out of a daze. "It's… That was the best I could have hoped for, really." When Callum didn't answer, he continued. "I thought he was dead. And after that week or so, where it was just his and Rayla's flowers left, I'd a feeling he'd been captured—and I was right, turns out. So… it's nice to know that, even though he's alive now, he hasn't been in pain all this time—not really, anyway."

"I… I get that," Callum said lamely, unable to explain; he'd spent those same two years not knowing whether Rayla was dead or hurt or completely fine. And, although, he didn't know what he would've done, knowing (or thinking) she really was gone, he wondered if it might've been better than the alternative, in some ways. All of the worrying, the not-knowing and millions of horrible possibilities his brain had conjured, had been the very worst.

It was quiet for a bit—tense, but not quite uncomfortable. That was, until, Sneezles honored his name and his sneeze echoed throughout the room, which got a small laugh out of the both of them. When the kettle began whistling, Ethari took it off the heat and set it aside as he retrieved two teabags. "Did you sleep well last night, lad?" he prompted.

"Me? Oh, uh, yes. Yes, it was—Um, yes," Callum babbled, feeling his face heat remembering just how comfortably he'd slept.

Ethari chuckled, a bit knowing, perhaps. "Glad to hear it. Sugar?"

"Just some milk, if you have it."

Teas in hand, the elf came over to the sitting area and set both of them down on the center table. Callum tried to conceal his sketchbook from view as subtly as possible when he realized Ethari was taking the armchair next to him. It occured to him that the beverages gave him a good excuse, so he shut the book and took the mug in his hands, blowing the steam from it. "Thank you."

"Of course," Ethari responded, sipping in tandem. Just when it looked like he wouldn't ask about it: "So, it's my understanding that you're quite the artist?" He cocked his head at the book in question.

"I, uh—I suppose," Callum shrugged, dreading the question he knew was coming—

"May I have a look?"

There it was. If he said yes, then no matter what section he decided to show, Ethari would want to flip the page, like everyone always did, and he couldn't go too far in any direction from any starting point without coming upon a spread solely dedicated to Rayla. There was nothing obscene in any sense, but, well… he drew her a lot, and sometimes, he couldn't help the way his admiration seeped into the depiction, and that was enough to make certain pages uncomfortable next to her father.

"…If you're comfortable, that is."

But if he said no, then the implications were far worse than the reality.

Callum opened to the page he had been on and quickly flipped to the one before it, filled with mostly plants and animals and landscapes they'd seen on their journey from Katolis. Taking a covert deep breath, he handed it over. "No, no, I don't mind."

Ethari's gaze lit up as it studied the drawings, nodding in appreciation as his mouth quirked. "Wow," he stated plainly.

"Thanks." He'd called it from the beginning, but he still had to force himself not to flinch as Ethari turned the page.

His momentary surprise quickly relaxed into a fond smile. "Wow," he repeated with a chuckle. The spread was of none other than Rayla, with a variety of poses and expressions, though most of them had captured her infectious joy from yesterday.

Callum rubbed the back of his neck, laughing along nervously. "Yeah…"

Ethari appeared to take pity on him, offering the book back, which he took from him gladly. "I'd say you've taken quite a liking to her, huh?"

He softened upon seeing her face on the page again—the beautiful, carefree elation she'd never gotten to experience, the sweet, sentimental contentment she'd never let show. "You could say that."

It was only slightly startling when Ethari placed a hand on the armrest right next to him. "Callum," he said, still kind but suddenly serious.

Callum straightened up. "Yes?"

"I'm not sure if you were expecting me to sit you down and tell you about how I'll off you if you ever hurt my daughter, but I think we both know that's not necessary." He shook his head, smiling sadly. "By the Moon, I should be the one promising I'll never hurt her. I never should have done what I did—the decision I made twice; I let my grief blind me, and Rayla suffered greatly for it. It doesn't make it okay, but, knowing she had you makes it a lot easier to live with. We haven't exactly known each other long, but it's rather easy to see how much you love her. How much she loves you. I… I wanted to let you know that you'll never have to worry about being welcome here, because you brought me back my family."

Callum blinked, beyond taken aback by the sincerity. Ethari moved his hand to his shoulder, and they shared an understanding look. "Well, uh," he stammered, "just so you know, Runaan did try to have that talk with me. He didn't make it very far."

Ethari laughed heartily at that, taking his hand from Callum's shoulder and reaching for his mug. Callum did the same, but before he took a sip, he added: "Don't discount Rayla, by the way. She's… so strong. She didn't need me to get her here." That was only true in some ways, but he didn't much feel like explaining intricacies of their connection and why they both needed each other.

Ethari sighed wistfully, and if Callum knew him a little better, he could be certain in saying that he was reminded of Runaan. "Oh, I believe that."