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"So take the photographs and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time
Tattoos of memories, and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth, it was worth all the while"
-"Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" by Green Day
Ethari had never been one to reach for too much.
Growing up, he had always been content with his place in the Silvergrove. Had delighted in sneaking away from his Moon Cub Pride Leader to visit the outskirts of the village, where their local blacksmith would work away on various crafts for those within and outside of the village.
The art of crafting fascinated him, hours spent sitting in her forge and listening to her explain what she was doing, begging her to train him and always getting promises that she would when he was a bit older.
He was still young when she started to teach him, calloused hands careful as she let him closer to watch. To touch. To start learning with his own hands, slowly.
He was sixteen when he crossed paths with the other teenagers he probably would’ve known pretty well had he not always been running off when they were younger.
Lain, at least, was a familiar face as he approached the sparring grounds with the sword for the assassin leader his mentor had instructed him to deliver, but the duo watching his spar weren’t as familiar.
Still, even without any proper training in a fight, Ethari knew better than to try and skirt around the wildly moving spar to try and deliver his package right that second, pausing beside the duo.
“Come on, Lain!” the girl shouted, a grin on her face.
Her companion rolled his eyes. “Tia, you’re going to distract him. Again,” he huffed with the tone of someone more than a little exasperated with the two.
“Are either of them winning?” Ethari muttered, trying to track the back and forth with his eyes and getting more of a blur than anything.
The boy beside him hummed, pretty turquoise eyes glancing at him. “You’re the smith apprentice, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yeah… Ethari. Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself.”
A small nod. “Runaan. And yes, Lain’s definitely got the upperhand. Though if Ram kept his head it’d be a more even match.”
“You mean like you do? Honestly, an arrow could come for your face and you wouldn’t blink,” Tia, Tiadrin, Ethari was pretty sure was her actual name from Lain’s recounts of training, shot back.
“How do you two pick that out?” he asked.
Runaan smirked. “You simply watch. Witness and experience enough fights, you get good at it.”
Ethari snorted. Runaan’s lips twitched towards something closer to a smile. Tiadrin’s eyes widened for some reason.
It was the start of something new, something that Ethari couldn’t have guessed at in the moment.
Lain and Tiadrin would insist that the two of them were made for each other, and despite Runaan’s rolled eyes…
Well, Ethari couldn’t disagree.
Where Runaan was sharp edges and an analytical mind, Ethari brought a softness and spur of creative thinking. Where Runaan taught the smith to wield bows and blades, because ‘for the love of the Moon, you need to be able to protect yourself’, Ethari taught him to slow down, to appreciate life as much as he respected death.
They completed one another as much as they complimented each other, and Ethari wouldn’t have it any other way.
“How did Lain and Tiadrin survive this?” Runaan asked, looking up from his checklist of wedding preparations with a distraught frown, dragging Ethari’s attention away from the engagement horn cuff that had been glinting in the light.
The smith’s lips twitched in amusement. “Because they had each other, my Moon. We will manage, Runaan.” He stood, moving around the table to take a peek. “Besides, most of these are simple things,” he mused, tapping at where Runaan had written down selecting a date. “And others will fall into place for us.” He pointed to where Runaan had written ‘decorations’ with obvious distress on his face. “Really, there’s only a few that will take any considerable time on our part.” He gestured to one such part, deciding whether or not to change their keys to enter and exit the Silvergrove and what they wanted to change them to if they did. “Traditions are occasionally helpful for a reason, and besides… You may not feel you have a good eye for decoration, but you do, and I’m more than capable of discerning quality as well.”
He smiled, pressing a kiss to his husband-to-be’s temple. “We’ll be just fine.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Runaan murmured, blowing out a sigh as he leaned into Ethari.
“I usually am.”
Runaan just laughed. “You usually are,” he agreed.
Life was simple but good. There wasn’t much that Ethari could feel like he was missing.
He was working every day with the craft he adored, and his husband was the most amazing person he knew.
And, as of a few years ago, they were uncles to their best friends’ daughter.
He and Runaan had discussed children, before their wedding, and had both agreed that while they weren’t opposed to the thought… It likely wasn’t in their cards, considering Runaan’s career. The worry of something happening on a mission already weighed heavy on them at times, and for Runaan the fear of never returning home to a young life dependent on them was…
Suffice it to say, it had been a mutual agreement, and babysitting Rayla was more than enough to keep their hands full anyway.
Or, well, babysitting was enough until Lain and Tiadrin were invited to the Dragon Guard. Were asked after for their skills in order to protect the egg of the Dragon Prince.
It was an honor, but it meant choosing between their duty and their daughter.
There were… many long conversations, some between all four of them and some between Ethari and Runaan and, he was certain, some between Lain and Tiadrin that he wasn’t privy to.
In the end, the decision for Ethari and Runaan was easy.
They already cared for Rayla, and though parenting would no doubt be a whole different learning curve than babysitting… Well, they’d look after her as if she were their own.
And it was… tumultuous at first, the three of them.
But eventually, things settled.
Ethari hadn’t really expected to become a father, but it was certainly something he’d never regret, he mused as he watched Runaan get bribed into reading Rayla a bedtime story with a fond smile on his face.
Like all good things, Ethari supposed the peace and perfect imperfection of his family had to end sooner or later.
Few things, after all, stayed the same forever, even the Moon waxing and waning in time.
Peace in the Silvergrove shattered with the news of the Dragon King’s death.
And oh, how Ethari wished that was the worst of the news.
But no, the humans had pressed their attack, and the Dragon Guard had abandoned their posts. Now the Dragon Prince was gone, the Dragon Queen left in outraged heartbreak over her sudden losses, and…
And Lain and Tiadrin…
Ethari remembered their faces well. The weight they carried as they left, the knowledge that while to most it may sound absurd that the Dragon Prince needed a guard considering who his parents were… Tragedies had struck down archdragons before.
They had always hoped to return to Rayla, but they’d been prepared for the alternative.
So… why… Why had they run from their duty? It didn’t make sense, they’d know they could never come back to the Silvergrove if they did so… Had they really decided that living, that abandoning their daughter and everything they’d once stood for, was a better alternative than fulfilling their duty, regardless of the outcome?
It didn’t make sense…
Neither of them were like that. Hell, they were so stubborn that Ethari couldn’t imagine them leaping into a fight with King Avizandum’s murderers with anything but full belief that they could come out on top.
And yet…
All evidence…
Ethari settled his shoulders as he opened his arms, accepting Rayla’s hug as she buried her face in his chest and tried to pretend she wasn’t sobbing. Tried to pretend her parents weren’t traitors.
“Oh, Little Blade…” Runaan’s own voice was thick as his arms wrapped around their daughter and Ethari at once.
Later, they would pick themselves up.
Later, they would join the rest of the Silvergrove for the Ghosting ceremony.
Later, Runaan and Ethari would fall asleep with their daughter between them like she was six and hiding in their bed after a nightmare again.
Later, Runaan would whisper that they had orders. A mission. A life for a life.
But that was later.
For right this moment, it was enough for the three of them to grieve together.
“My heart goes out with this one.”
“Don’t worry, I promise I’ll return your heart to you.”
Ethari stared, the image before him barely comprehensible as a low whine started in his ears.
It had been horrible, waking the morning after the full moon to find that four of the flowers had sunk…
But…
Runaan and Rayla’s… They had stayed afloat.
They’d been alive.
But now, only a few days later…
Runaan’s had vanished beneath the pond’s surface.
Ethari had thought, he’d hoped in that selfish way people were apt to do, that the mission had gone wrong and Runaan had gotten them out. That things went sideways and they were the only two to escape.
A part of him still wanted to believe that.
It- It was so much better than-
“We shouldn’t be surprised. The daughter of defectors abandoning them shouldn’t be a shock.”
It was so much better than that. Than Rayla, his daughter, abandoning the team.
So much better than Runaan’s daughter being called a betrayer.
“We don’t know that! Runaan was alive for days! It’s possible-” His voice cracked, failed him.
“She’s talented, but not that talented,” Lyrennus snarled.
Word spread quickly.
Rayla abandoned them. Runaan was dead.
He didn’t want to believe it.
She was their daughter…
A promise lay at the bottom of the pond, his heart with it.
Someone called for a Ghosting, another voiced their support. Then another, and another.
And Ethari remained quiet, did not voice disapproval. Did not stop it. Did not defend her.
The spell was cast. Ethari left the ceremony with his gaze trained to the ground.
If he locked himself away in his workshop like burying himself in his craft would allow himself to outrun the pain of losing his other half, there was no one to stop him.
It wouldn’t help, he knew, but it was worth a try when there was nothing else left.
Ethari closed his eyes as the Shadowhawk disappeared into the distance, trying to drag in a breath even as his chest felt like it was caving in.
There was a bitter relief to the last hour. Relief that Rayla was well, relief that she hadn’t abandoned the other assassins, that she hadn’t abandoned Runaan…
And oh, if she really had left with the Dragon Prince…
By the Moon, had she even known before today? He hadn’t cared when he’d snapped at her in his workshop, but-
But she was his daughter.
And he’d turned his back on her.
His breathing hitched. His eyes burned.
How many times had he promised? How many times…
He forced his eyes open, letting his gaze fall to the pond. To the flower floating there.
At least, he reminded himself, she wasn’t alone. That human boy seemed sweet, and Rayla had appeared quite fond of him.
Funny, for all that they weren’t related by blood how many of her habits Rayla had learned from Ethari and Runaan.
Ethari wiped at his eyes.
It was… too late for regrets now.
This pain was his to bear, and he couldn’t change it. Wouldn’t change it.
But…
She’d be alright. It would, perhaps, be hard for her. She would grieve, and ache, but… She’d always been strong, and she had support.
She’d make it through.
In the end…
Perhaps this pain, one that Ethari was certain would drag along his bones for the rest of his days, was worth the memories of before. Was worth her future.
He could only hope it was.
Two years dragged on like two lifetimes.
He… Eventually, he started doing his best to find things to fill his time with other than the silence. Other than the ghosts that inhabited his house, that lurked around his workshop.
Becoming a Moon Cub Pride Leader was… It wasn’t much of a surprise. Rayla had given him a love for children, and between him and his husband, he’d always had the softer touch with little ones. And…
Their laughter was no longterm cure, nothing that could chase away the creeping cold or stitch the pieces of his heart back together, but it was… good, all the same. To see lives that had not shattered, to nurture and guide them on their way.
To see the hope that Rayla had given up her home for shining brightly from each child under his care.
And then…
Runaan’s flower rose.
It was impossible. Unheard of.
Never in his many years of crafting flowers had one of the enchantments failed, but no one came back from the dead.
Of the two options, his enchantment failing was the more likely scenario. Magic, especially such enchantments, weren’t flawless.
It… That had to be it.
No one could be dead for two years and suddenly return.
The clanking of his hammer on metal, pressing a blade into the proper shape, was a familiar reassurance at least. Something that was almost enough to take his mind off of it.
Off of Rayla out there, somewhere, and if Runaan’s flower had stopped working who knew if hers still was…
If something happened to her, would he even know?
The door creaked open.
“Apologies, but I’m busy,” Ethari bit out, barely pausing his work, “You’ll have to come back later.”
“I’m afraid I’ve waited long enough.” Runaan’s voice was soft, as smooth and gentle as the day he’d left. A balm over wounds, another slash against Ethari’s ever-bleeding heart.
His eyes burned, the hammer dropped to the table as he hunched in on himself. Even two years later, how easy it was for his mind to conjure Runaan… His voice, his image… Memories and years of knowing the other better than he knew himself…
It ached.
And yet, despite knowing all he’d see was a reflection of his own memories, he lifted the blade he’d been working on, letting his gaze trace the familiar form of his husband. Dressed down, for once, just a simple t-shirt… But those eyes…
Ethari would never forget those eyes.
“Hello, my beloved phantom. Have you come again to haunt me?” he greeted softly.
The script… snagged.
That was normally where the phantom blinked from existence, or simply remained quiet. Perhaps ignored his words altogether and echoed something Runaan would’ve said, when the world was still good to them.
But… “Haunt you?” Runaan echoed, confused. Almost hurt.
“I see you everywhere,” Ethari murmured, trying to focus back on the blade in his hands. Hoping the work would drive the ghost out as he turned to the forge. “Hear your voice when you aren’t there,” he added as he set the metal back into the coals and fire. “But I am begging you, Runaan, leave me be.” He pulled the now red-hot blade from the forge and turned to the water he always kept prepared. “Let me let you go,” he finished as he stuck the metal in to cool it back to his target temperature.
It was a plea he’d made a hundred times.
A plea he knew he’d likely be making the rest of his days, kept company only by the ghosts of his family.
“But I made you a promise,” Runaan argued, closer now.
Ethari wished these were still the days when Runaan would arrive back with Rayla, late from training and yet finding him still lost at work, the duo badgering him out of his workshop for dinner with teases and stories…
He wished…
“And I long to make peace with its breaking,” he murmured, pulling the blade from the water.
Because the good, the memories… They made the pain worth it all, but that didn’t mean he didn’t wish the pain could fade, sooner or later.
A hand brushed his arm. Light, but real.
He gasped, jolting, blade slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor.
For a moment, his chest seized and he wondered if, perhaps, he had actually lost his mind. But…
He turned, wide-eyed, and Runaan…
He was there, turquoise eyes glinting with familiar determination, lips upturned in a sad half-smile. The same as he’d been two years ago, Ethari thought for a moment, until his gaze finally caught on his husband’s horns. Or, at least, what was left of them, the left one missing from the top of his horn cuff up.
“It’s not broken, Ethari. My promise, I’ve kept it,” Runaan insisted, hands curling around Ethari’s and raising them between them. Hands that were solid against his own, hands that were warm with life.
Ethari sucked in a breath, reaching out to cup his husband’s cheek, a hand immediately coming up to hold it there as Runaan leaned into the touch.
“It’s me,” the assassin promised, pressing a kiss to Ethari’s palm. “I’m home.”
Ethari’s vision blurred with tears. “My Heart…”
Runaan’s lips were on his in the next moment, and Ethari let himself melt into it, melt into the comfort he’d given up ever having again.
And for several minutes, his world was in his arms…
His world…
Oh…
The bubble of perfection shattered, and Ethari pulled back with a jolt, gaze sweeping around like he’d actually be able to see her.
But if they’d used Runaan’s key-
“Ethari?”
“Rayla? Is she with you?” Ethai asked.
Runaan chuckled, eyes warm as he nodded. “Yes, of course, she is. She said she and Callum would be right behind me, wanted to give us a moment first.” Runaan turned to look over his shoulder at the door, as if mentioning her and her human would magically make them appear.
The door remained closed where Runnan had left it.
Ethari’s stomach sank as realization set in. “We need to go,” he murmured, grabbing Runaan’s hand to tug him to the door.
“What? Why? I’m sure-”
“Because she’s going to leave,” Ethari cut the assassin off, tugging a bit more frantically until Runaan started moving.
“What? Why in the world would she do that?” Runaan demanded.
Ethari swallowed the guilt that threatened to stick in his throat. “She was the only one that survived, Runaan. The youngest, the least experienced… We Ghosted her.”
Out of the corner of his eye, the smith could see Runaan’s eyes widen, the weight of Ethari’s word choice no doubt picked out immediately. But that wasn’t what he commented on. “We can fix that.”
“Yes, but she’s our daughter. The last thing she’ll want to do is burden us with her problems.” Ethari snorted. “She’s far too much like you, that way.”
“And yet her heart’s as gentle and good as yours,” Runaan shot back, shaking his head as they fell into silence, steps quick and even as they headed towards the entrance of the Silvergrove.
There were still things to set right with their family, after all.
And at the very least… They’d be together again, one way or another.
After Rayla’s Ghosting was lifted, they were blessed with a small reprieve.
The upheaval that followed, a war against Aaravos that ended in the deaths of three Archdragons, was…
Well, Ethari wasn’t sure there was a good word for it.
But now… They’d be journeying back to Katolis to regroup with friends, to host a memorial for the dragons…
To decide their next moves.
For the moment though, there was nothing to do but ensure everyone was alright. King Ezran had gone ahead with the Dragon Prince to inform his allies of what had transpired, and more than likely to avoid Runaan based on what Callum had said earlier…
Runaan was with Callum already, the two speaking quietly alongside the boy’s aunt, Callum filling in gaps for the both of them in conversation.
And Ethari supposed learning a four-fingered version of Katolian Sign Language was now on the to-do list… Perhaps Queen Janai would have tips on where to begin?
Ethari’s gaze traveled to his daughter, moving over to her as he took in the soft smile on her face as she watched her human.
“You did well today,” Ethari murmured, settling beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she leaned into his side.
“We all did,” she murmured.
“Perhaps. But…” He let the words trail, let the silence rest between them.
They’d all done well, but most of them hadn’t been the one forced to turn a weapon on the other half of their heart.
The Moon knew what Ethari would do if he had been in her position…
“I know,” she murmured. “But… I didn’t have to, and… I dunno, I’m not really in the mood for Big Feelin’s Time right now.”
Ethari smiled. “Okay,” he conceded. “And hey,” he nudged her, getting those eyes on him as he let his smile grow, “they’re both still with us.”
A smile bloomed across her features, more beautiful than the prettiest Lunablooms. “They’re with us,” she agreed.
Life was unpredictable at best, but somehow they’d wound up here…
That was enough.
It took time for things to settle, for matters to be finished.
It was, in a way, amusing to see Rayla’s confusion over Callum refusing to be in the room when Runaan insisted on facing Ezran’s final judgment. But…
Ethari understood. The three had already informed him of their jailbreak to return Runaan to the Silvergrove, after all. It was easy, in his mind, to see then why Callum would refuse to watch his brother decide Runaan’s fate.
Couldn’t be there for much the same reason Ethari had to be.
Because Ethari never would’ve forgiven himself if Ezran chose the worst scenario that he knew they’d all feared, never would’ve forgiven himself for not being there to say goodbye if he had to. And yet Callum never would’ve been able to watch, never would’ve been able to stand aside and let another hurt come to those he cared about.
And so he’d stood guard outside, shoulders slumping in relief when Runaan opened the door only for his brows to scrunch in confusion at the expression Ezran and even Rayla were wearing.
But now…
Now all that was left was the return home.
Was to find out what normal was, once more.
All that was left was to heal.
“Are you sure about this? I could always stay here! Or we could-”
“Rayla.” Callum’s voice was tinged with fond exasperation, and Ethari chuckled to himself as he finished securing their shadowpaw’s saddle, Runaan hiding his own fond smile by triple-checking their gryphon’s own tack. “I am very certain, and I’ve already spoken with Ez. Where you go, I go. And the Silvergrove was pretty nice.” His voice dipped as they stepped into the makeshift stable, away from the public’s eyes and ears. “Honestly… I love Ez, and I love Katolis… But… Being Prince or- or High Mage has never felt as right as just being… me.”
“Alright, sappy mage,” Rayla murmured.
“You two are aware we’re standing here?” Runaan broke in.
Callum flushed as Ethari snorted. Rayla just gave him a half-hearted glare. “Not like I haven’t seen worse from you and Ethari.”
“Rayla!” Callum yelped as Ethari laughed.
Oh, he had a feeling that even if the Silvergrove might be peaceful in the coming days, life certainly wouldn’t be boring.
In the end, it seemed to him, everything they’d been through to get here had all been more than worthwhile.