#and rayla lets go of his arm she lets it Go. she was going to let him walk away

[n1blakelover]

if callum does not gently caress her chin and pull her closer while staring at her lovingly and glance down to her lips before kissing her in the most sickingly loving and adoring way ever i will lose my god forsaken mind

[chocolatecake47]

The Dragang found family is like:

Soren carrying Ezran up to bed when he falls asleep somewhere else, Callum braiding Rayla’s hair when she’s had a bad day (even when she’s too shy to ask), Rayla tearing up when Ezran is finally taller than her and she has to look up to talk to him, Callum tucking Ezran into bed and waiting for him to fall asleep sometimes rubbing his back or arms if he’s stressed out, Soren and Rayla eventually tearfully opening up to each other about all the abusive behaviors and screwed up things that happened in their upbringing and bonding over mutual understanding, Callum and Rayla comforting each other when they wake up screaming and crying from nightmares, Callum constantly drawing Rayla and his breath catching in his throat in awe a little when he sees her in a dress for the first time, Rayla making little flower crowns for Ezran and him wearing them just because, Ezran stealing jelly tarts from the kitchen and Soren going along with him just for the fun of it, Rayla and Soren brutally roasting each other and flipping each other off while Opeli stares gasping in shock at this “improper behavior” but everyone else around is trying to hide their laughter, Rayla sleeping curled against Callum’s chest some nights, Callum and Rayla doing the stupidest harmless best friend shit for no reason and Opeli just rolling her eyes, Callum telling Ezran about the memories he has of their mother, having little picnics in the gardens outside the palace on some warm days, Callum wiping his thumbs lovingly over Rayla’s markings, Ezran crawling into their bed after he has a bad nightmare and promptly falling asleep cuddled in between them, Rayla and Soren sparring together routinely, Callum and Rayla running their fingers through each others hair and sometimes running their fingers through Ezran’s curls, Rayla and Ezran teasing Callum about something “inappropriate” and watch him get bright red and start sputtering which sends them off into peels of laughter at his awkwardness, Rayla doing the girlfriend pout (not that she would even need to do this, lets be so real right now 😅) and Callum giving her the last bite of his food, Callum and Ezran just randomly crying together sometimes over their father passing, Rayla telling Ezran stories about the Silver-grove trying not to let her voice crack but Ezran noticing anyway, giving Soren random hugs when he feels lonely or misses Claudia, Callum closing his eyes and turning away sometimes as Ezran gets older and pretending for a moment that his dad is still there, Ezran sitting behind a pillar in the ballroom and watching Callum and Rayla slow-dance and pretending for a minute he’s watching his mom and dad, sitting around the fire enjoying each others company, Callum and Rayla immediately knowing when something is wrong with the other person and learning communication together, Soren giving Ezran unsolicited first kiss/first date advice, Soren light-heartedly teasing Callum about his disastrous first kiss, Callum taking Ezran’s crown off on hard days and kissing the top of his head where it rests, everybody laughing uncontrollably about something that is not funny at all in the middle of horrendous stress and sleep-deprivation and that only makes it more funny. Shooting looks to kill anyone who’s crossed lines and hurt one of them. That fierce protective streak they all carry for each other. Holding each other while they sob not caring about the tears falling all over them. Sending each other pointed glances and smirks from across tables full of fancy dignitaries. Finding pretty flowers and giving them to each other just because.

 Impulsive hugs. Forehead kisses. Draping blankets over each other. Curling up on each others laps. Leaning heads on each others shoulders. Late night whispers. Tearing up with joy at milestones..

Everybody reaching for each others hands in tough moments and gently squeezing as reminders of their presences, and sometimes just doing for no reason other than closeness and security and comfort and to just, hold each others hands.

I love you’s. Lots of them. Heartfelt and sincere and emotional and naturally and full of unconditional love. After bad days, after good days, after heavy conversations, after fun times, just random I love you’s so nobody forgets how loved they are despite all they’ve lost.

This is found family ❤️.

“The stakes are high, the water’s rough, but this love is ours” - Ours

“The best people in life are free” - New Romantics

“It was letting go of everything but you” - The Band And I

“Wherever we’re together, that’s my home” - You’re My Home

[zuppizup]

Better the devil

Callum clawed at the vines encasing him, desperate. Wild.

He had to get to Rayla. He had to.

She hung limp over Terry’s shoulder as he and Claudia rushed to the corrupted dragon awaiting them.

“No!” Callum cried out, wrenching his hand from the tangled web and hearing a number of sickening cracks. He’d freed himself enough to draw a rune, but his fingers wouldn’t obey him, wouldn’t extend to perform the magic. “Rayla!” He cried out, thrashing against the thick vegetation that held him firm.

Terry turned back to look at him, his eyes wide and terrified.

“Terry, hurry up!” Claudia grabbed him by the wrist.

Moment hesitation seemingly over, Terry climbed on behind her, Rayla still lifeless in his arms.

“No, no, no!” Callum continued to fight as the shadow beast began to beat it’s wings, pelting him with rocks and sticks. “No, Rayla!”

His breath caught in his throat as he continued to struggle. The vines around him seemed to grow tighter, strangling his chest, cutting off his air.

“Rayla!” He gasped, collapsing to the forest floor as the dragon gained altitude, moving above the trees, into the air… away.

She was gone.

He tried to draw breath, but his chest wouldn’t move, wouldn’t obey. Air caught in his throat as he tried not to think of Rayla at their mercy… a mere collection of parts to be catalogued.

Used.

“Callum!” Ezran’s voice somewhere behind him…

His vision was going black as his heart ached in his chest. They had her, they had her… He’d let them take her away.

“Get these off him.” Soren now.

Two sets of hands pulling at the vines wrapped around him but it did nothing. His chest seized, like it was trapped in a vice. He could hear his own strangled breath as he gasped for air.

“He can’t breathe!” Ezran cried out. “What did they do to him?”

“What sort of Dark Magic is this, Viren?” Soren’s voice was harsh, like it had been ever since Viren had shown up.

He’s the last person Callum wanted to see.

“This isn’t Dark Magic.” Viren’s voice sounded clipped as it moved closer.

Ezran gasped. “What do you mean-”

Callum lay in the dirt, limbs heavy and unresponsive. Oh Sources, Rayla. They had her. He let them take her away. What were they going to do to her? What did Claudia want with her? He needed to get up, go after them, save her-

“Callum, you need to breathe.”

He wanted to push Viren away, scream and rage at him. Hit him. Make the bastard hurt, like he was hurting now. His chest burned and his heart ached. This was all Viren’s fault, they took her, they had Rayla. If he’d just stayed dead they would never have ended up in this situation.

She would have stayed. They’d be together now.

He gasped again, a sob making it even harder to breathe.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth.” Viren continued. “Breathe.”

He needed to help Rayla, he had to save her… he needed to breathe.

“That’s it.” Viren continued, and Callum became aware of a gentle pressure on his upper arm.

Slowly, he felt air returning to his lungs. His vision came back. Viren was sitting next to him, a hand on his arm.

“Good.” He smiled sadly. “Breathe.”

————

So, as usual, I feel I was enabled into this. More to come, perhaps? Callum & Viren teaming up to save Rayla and Claudia. Callum hating every minute of it? Mayhaps…

[raayllum]

"Don't leave" Rayllum <3

Plus send me a number with a ship and i’ll write it (accepted ships are tdp canon ships + rarepairs (claudiez, sopreli, corvus/terry, sorvus)

He gets nightmares on the way to the Starscraper.

Callum won't say so, but Rayla knows. She's taken to always waiting at night to hear his soft adorable little snores before she lets herself drift off, too, and with every night that passes since they've left the castle, it takes longer and longer for him to fall asleep. He wakes up close to noon with bags under his eyes, blankets tangled up along legs from thrashing in the night.

The first time she wakes him up, he whimpers and pushes her away, and won't—for the first time—accept her comfort. It hurts more than any cold shoulder ever did upon her return.

The second time, his eyes are wild, staring like they don't recognize her at first. Then the terror fades, warmth amid the clammy quality to his skin seeping back into his eyes, even if he still shies away from her touch and twice as much from her words.

"It's nothing you can help with," he mumbles regarding the hell in his head.

Her heart squeezes painfully. Something she can't protect him from.

Maybe that's why he never lets her comfort him back to sleep, lie with him on the mattress, nor hold his hand to ward off the monsters that hurt him so. He doesn't want her close, and she can't understand why, but... Rayla is the last person to question wanting space or to demand closeness.

She doesn't tell him that she lies awake on her mattress after each terror, watching over him while he sleeps, because that's something she can do.

It's their last night in the creaking boat before they reach the shoreline. Before it will just be a long, snowy trek to the Starscraper.

Tonight, when he thrashes, she shakes him away as her name escapes her lips, his desperate cry twisting her heart painfully, and when his eyes fly open, they look at her with only teary-eyed relief. "Rayla—"

"It's okay." She kneels by the side of the bed, taking his face in her hands. Brushing away his tears best she can. "We're okay."

His breathing slowly calms, helped by a few small sky incantations, before he removes her hands from his cheeks and they fall to her sides again. She wants to hold him. She wants to help him. But if he—

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offers, even as she has her suspicions: Aaravos, a puppetmaster. And whatever Finnegrin had done to him on that cursed ship. Not for the first time, she wishes she could kill Aaravos herself, just to put him at ease; that Finnegrin being in the belly of a sea leviathan was enough to calm the roiling storms in her best friend's mind.

He shakes his head. "No."

She straightens, pursing her lips, turning to leave—because ever since coming back, she still can't quite stay, because the world is still in danger, and because it will take more time for the distance he's enforced to dwindle and that's fine, really, it is—

He snags her wrist. "Wait," Callum croaks, and Rayla turns back around. Waiting. Watching. His thumb strokes over the place her binding used to rest. "Don't leave."

She inhales sharply,

Believe me, I want to go down there with you... You've got to stay with me... Really, that's it, just — goodbye? You're going to stay here and die out of... But would it be alright, maybe, if I stay?

He's never asked before. Not like this.

She steps closer. "Callum—"

"I want you to stay," he states, looking up at her. A beat. "Please."

Rayla crawls into the bed beside him and wraps him up in her arms. He settles, forehead pressed to her neck—faintly listening to her heart, she thinks, as she holds him tight.

If he wants her to... if he wants her, then—

Rayla kisses his forehead. "I'll never leave again," she promises.

She'll keep it this time.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

the night you danced like you knew our lives would never be the same

Inspired by this post.

Rayla and Ezran dance at her and Callum's wedding. (PS; accidentally posted this on my sideblog, so I deleted it and copy and pasted it here)

Very few things in Callum’s life were his own.

His staff had once been Ibis’s, office once Viren’s, seat at the council’s table once the former High Mage’s, too. Things that had been lost and passed down along with the bloodshed and betrayal, just as everything seemed to be.

But Rayla was his. Not “his” in a creepy ownership way, but his in that his heart belonged to her, and hers him. His in that they were finally connected in every sense of the word, connected in a way that even life, fate, and history books could never twist.

So even now, with silver cuffs circling her horns and a matching ring finally on his finger, Callum wouldn't– couldn't –let her go far, keeping an arm circled around her waist and occasionally dropping his head to her shoulder, even going so far as to press a kiss to her neck when enough eyes were off them.

He could understand why the elf was popular, in high demand; he'd married her, after all, but it didn't irk him any less. Rayla was the daughter of two Dragonguard and one herself, had returned the Dragon Prince home, had saved the world twice now, and managed to capture the heart of the–apparently–infamously picky and hard-to-please Crown Prince and High Mage of Katolis.

Visiting dignitaries kept asking to dance with her, offer a drink, and while it was nice to see relations between the Pentarchy and Xadia truly blossoming, Callum really just wished everyone would leave so he could be alone with his wife–his wife! He could still scarcely believe it; it still felt like she'd be ripped from his fingers, like the universe decided they had to save the whole entire world again and wanted to hurt her just for the hell of it.

The last time she'd strayed from his side had been back at the Starscraper, the Celestial elves claiming she had to undergo some trial on her own, and the next thing Callum knew, the damn cube had been dropping from his hand and Rayla taking its place, all hell unleashed in the moments after.

So, no. He could hardly stand to let her go far anymore, not when she'd been gods-know-where all on her own for two whole years, not when his unabashed love for her was clear as day and so easily taken advantage of. If she was in his sight, in his arms, he could keep her safe. That's what he had to keep telling himself, at least.

And, yeah, Callum appreciated that it was completely paranoid and irrational; he couldn't very well get rid of every threat in existence, but the rush of calm when her sturdy warmth was in his arms, the trauma, didn't really adhere to reason. And she didn’t seem to have any inclination to go far from him, either, so it worked out just fine.

Read more on AO3!

[jelzorz]

168.

Callum still dreams about the mirror.

Posession is not an easy thing to forget. It's been about a month since that day in the Storm Spire, but it will haunt him for the rest of his life, worsened by the knowledge Claudia is out there and looking to free Aaravos, even when the prison is here, and the Nova Blade is sheathed and upon his desk. He'd thought having it would be a comfort, but it taunts him every night: it's there, within reach, and he can end it now, smash the prison and push the blade through Aaravos' heart, be done with it once and for all—

But of course he doesn't do that, tempting as it is, because the others are right, and something so reckless might be exactly what Aaravos wants.

So Callum bears it. He tosses and turns in his sleep, dreaming of the mirror, of seeing his reflection in it, trapped in Aaravos' place while his body hurts the people he loves the most. He shuts out the voice, deep enough that he can feel it ringing in his chest and seeping into his bones, whispering terrible thoughts, terrible ideas into his mind and beckoning him to surrender and sleep and relinquish his will. He wakes in the mornings feeling more exhausted than when he went to bed, and it's getting worse, he thinks, the longer they wait.

Tonight, it's different. Callum looks at himself through Aaravos' eyes, trapped and helpless in the mirror, but tonight, Aaravos only watches and pulls Callum's lips into an oily, terrifying grin.

"Difficult, isn't it?" Aarovos asks, tilting his head towards the desk. "The answer is there. You could finish this if you wanted."

Callum's reflection pounds his fist against the glass. Stop this, he mouths. Let me go.

Aaravos laughs. "Soon," he makes Callum say. "There are so many things to do first. So many places to conquer. So much discord to sow. And this body... I think it can do a great many things for me before I ever even escape."

Let me go! the reflection snarls. I won't let you control me!

"Oh, but that's the beauty of it all," chuckles Aaravos. "You mages think you can control everything but you never realise how easy it is to control you. There are things you want, Callum. Things you'll do anything for, and people you're desperate to protect, isn't that right? What would it take, I wonder, for you to release me in Claudia's stead?"

Nothing, the reflection seethes. You have nothing I want. I'll never help you.

"Perhaps not," says Aaravos. "But you'll help her, won't you?" He pushes out a hand and turns the mirror, and there is Rayla, curled in the other bed with Stella in her arms. There is moonlight in her hair, and peace on her face, and she's so vulnerable, so easy to threaten, to hurt—

Callum's body advances, the lips tugged up in that horrible smile, the eyes glowing, the hand outstretched to tuck a lock of Rayla's hair behind the point of her ear. The gesture is gentle, so deceptively tender, but the fingers are large and too close to her throat, and Callum in the mirror panics and pounds harder against the glass.

Don't touch her! he cries, voiceless, helpless. Aaravos! Leave her out of this, it's me you want!

Aaravos laughs. It is deep and cruel, and it fills Callum's chest with dread and a fear so debilitating he can barely breathe through it. His reflection slams its fist against the glass, desperate, but even that is silent, even as its knuckles split and smear blood against the inside of mirror, and then—

The glass breaks.

Callum wakes.

There is no mirror. It was destroyed weeks ago, in the foyer of the Storm Spire. Rayla is still asleep in the other bed, her breathing slow and even, even as Callum's own breath rushes out.

"Just a dream," he mumbles, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. He forces himself to think of other things: tomorrow's council meeting, the Nova Blade on his desk, Rayla's smile in the moonlight. She is safe. He is safe. Everything is fine. "A dream," he says again, his breath still shaking. "It wasn't real."

He gets up to wash his face, leaving bloody handprints in the bed.

[numptypylon]

Carry the One: 4th stand-alone drabble

“I told you, didn’t I?!”

She had? “What, pray tell? You’ve told me many a thing, milady-“ It was so nice, being in her arms. All romantic and nice, like a storybook with heroes and swains and sweepings-off-feet. He tried the sparkly heart spell to complete the picture, but it made a kinda whooshy, wobbly arc, not quite what he was going for. “What did you-“

“‘NO FLYING UNDER THE INFLUENCE’! YOU MONUMENTAL MORON!” Okay, so… the romantic storybook moment had taken a bit of a turn. Rayla was mad.

“Worked out though?” It had worked out, the actual flying had worked great, he’d swerved just before he hit the watchtower and everything. The landing… yeah, maybe there was a little room for improvement.

But considering the amount of influence he was currently under, he thought he’d done pretty well?

“A whole-body encounter with the courtyard cobblestones is not a landing that‘worked out’!”

“I’m okay though!” Something was bleeding, probably his elbow, he thought, because Rayla’s cute little fingers had come away red, but it didn’t hurt, so it couldn’t be so bad, really.

“Nope. You almost fell on your face a second time when you tried to get up from the first wipeout, that’s not okay.”

“Because I’m under the influence!”

“And that influence disqualifies you from having an opinion on how okay you are. AND FROM FLYING! EVER AGAIN, YOU FUCKING HEAR ME?! You could have-“ She paused, and her breaths were rough and jagged, her heartbeat rapid under his ear. “I’ll let you decide how you feel… tomorrow morning! I’ll bet you right now that ‘okay’will not be the word that comes to mind!”

“No.” He put his head against her shoulder, sadly. He wasn’t okay when she was mad at him, and she was really mad. And she was upset, and that was worse. She was shaking.

But the influence was still… very much a thing, and he couldn’t make his mouth say the right things, or anything useful, really, and she'd clammed up like she still did sometimes, her face turned away from him.

He felt not so good anymore, by the time she lowered him onto his bed. So much worse when she left for her own that she hardly ever used anymore, as soon as she was done cleaning him up and bandaging his knee and elbow, leaving him with a wooden bucket to hug instead of her.

Yeah, he… was changing his mind, and now thinking... tomorrow morning would probably be three or more kinds of pain.

You can see all the variants of this drawing here and the Rayla carrying Callum versions here, or find other drabbles in this series in the [#drabble series: carry the one] tag. These don’t need to be read in order, they’re unrelated drabbles, just based on the same ‘carrying’ concept

[mandaloriandragontrainer]

The pirate has his arm looped around Rayla’s throat. “Give it up, sky mage,” he orders, his barnacle-encrusted hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her protests. There’s an ocean rune drawn in front of him, though whether it’s meant for her or for Callum, the prince isn’t sure.

But it doesn’t matter.

“Let her go,” he demands, ignoring how his voice breaks. “Let us both go.“

Raucous laughter sounds about him, culminating in a mocking guffaw from the Tidebound captain. “Oh ho, or what, boy? You wanna go another round?”

Callum swallows hard, reflexive tears still leaking from his swollen eye, his jaw stiff and sore. “Let her go. Or die.”

The pirate laughs yet again. “I must’ve scrambled your brains, huh, pup? ‘Cause in case you haven’t noticed, you don’t have your staff. Now…” he gives Rayla a shake. “Let’s see if she can swim.”

They think he needs his staff. They’re just like everyone else. Callum locks eyes with Rayla, smiling assuringly as she blinks in terror. He won’t let them hurt her.

He won’t let anything hurt her.

“Fulminis.”

The thunderclap would’ve put Avizandum to shame.

[black-dhalias]

Hi!! I absolutely love your writing✨✨

I was wondering if you’d write a Ethari x Reader (pronouns are she/her) x Runaan where it takes place in the time of the assassination of King Harrow.

Ethari and reader witnesses the assassins flowers sink one by one leading down to Rayla and Runaan.

Days later, it depends on how many days Runaan was in the dungeon before he got trapped in a coin. They witness Runaan’s flower sink and are of course struck by grief.

If it’s not a bother could you write days later after Runaan’s "death" the time where Callum and Rayla goes to their house.

Reader is reading a book while Ethari is crafting weapons and he witnesses Rayla from the reflection and you know what happens next.

If you don’t want to write this it’s completely fine! Once again, I love your writing!!✨🤍🌙

Floating Flowers

Poly!Runaan X Reader X Poly!Ethari

Warnings: angst, kinda sad ngl, mentions of death and some descriptions of violence

One does not love without sacrifice, and one does not truly want to take the risk unless they know it's worth it. With all that at stake, it does not make sense to ever really let someone in. To love, is to let your heart beat in time with another—with many, and in so few words, all of it can disappear.

In a blink.

In an instant.

Within a single breath.

All love causes is pain. You thought you knew the worst of it, felt the bitter edge of loss, but you were so wrong. You had it all figured out only a year ago. You had Runaan... A voice of reason and rock. You had Raela... In all her stubbornness and sweet personality. You have Ethari... As your warmth, and your light. You loved all three extensively, dove head first into the chasm of love—hopeful and invested. They gave you purpose and warmth, and that's all you ever wanted.

You thought the price of love was worth all the pain, but now as you fold your arms over your knotted up stomach. You could barely tear your eyes away from Runaan and Rayla prepare for the mission. The one to avenge all of Xadia, but it was not worth it to you. Nothing in all of the realms was worth the price of watching them walk out of this village.

Soon it would be just you and Ethari—you begged for a minute longer as Runaan's palm embraces your cheek, "Goodbye my love." The words taste acidic, another minute of him would never be enough. You'd plead for hour after hour, for every second was worth a thousand pleas.

While Runaan notes your rigid form, the distant look in your eyes—he knows that he cannot stay. "It is not good bye..." He whispers quietly, "I will always return to you both." Your lips press into that all too familiar line, shaking your head as you part from him completely.

Hating the distance, but knowing you must let him go.

"Do not make us promises you cannot keep." Your words are dark, striking cold fear into Ethari—the sensation of pain mirrors into him.

Hesitantly, Ethari embraces Runaan and Rayla throws herself into your arms. You told Runaan she was not ready, that you were not ready to let her go into a battle she may not return from.

She's the closest you ever came to a child, you are certain that she'll be the only child you ever have. All her life was spent under your careful gaze, and embraced tightly in your arms. Your cheek rests atop her hair, and even when your eyes mist over—you do not let yourself cry.

"I love you Rayla... All the way to the moon." You insisted she was more like you, more like Ethari, but Runaan was certain. And when he was certain, there was no reason to try to talk sense into him.

When you finally gather enough strength to look up at Runaan, Rayla at his side and Ethari's palm on the small of your back. Runaan gives a tight smile, one he only gives when he is not sure.

"I love you..." You don't know if you'd forgive yourself if he didn't hear it at least once more, you see the softness of his eyes. "Both of you, and we expect you home before 30 nights have passed."

Soon enough, they disappear and leave only floating flowers in their wake. No one moved from the fountain, too many souls rest upon the surface—hardly a ripple as the air catches deep in your throat.

When the day came to pass, the crowd was thick with anxiety without a word of comfort to be shared. No one could say anything at all. Ethari held you close, unable to stop the tightening of his grip as each flower sunk to rest on the bottom. The ripples were jarring, the water stirred with grief.

The cries were haunting, even when no one knew who would come next... The tears remained locked up. And with each sunken flower, you felt a wave of guilt and relief because you wished it to be anyone else. Until it was only them.

All you had was the hope that they had succeeded, and were already halfway home right now. It is all that you have left.

"Come to bed starlight." Ethari's sweet nickname sounded so soft, you could hardly enjoy the comfort, but it was there nonetheless. "I miss your warmth..." You tear your eyes rom the water, and stare into his. You wonder if he knows how much you adore him, how safe and welcoming his arms had become since they found you. "I miss sharing a bed..." You hardly slept since they left, leaving Ethari to an empty home most days. Ethari and Runaan had saved you all those years ago, brought you back from the edge of the universe—a startouch elf who could hardly bring themselves to love. To care.

"Just tonight..." You take his outstretched hand, his hope brought you optimism. Gave you hope. That meant something to you.

"I miss you too."

In the quiet and dark, you lay entangled in your husband—embraced tightly in the linens and his arms. The shadows crest through the window, a moonlit night, but you struggle to see through the light. Almost certain that there is—not evil, but nothing good coming your way.

Ethari's arms tighten around and bring you closer than before, chin nuzzled into your neck. His hair is soft against your arm, there is so much on your mind and sleep seems distant.

The way his eyes are shut so lightly, lashes brushing his cheeks and while not a smile—his face is not contorted with nightmares. To be honest, this is the first time since Runaan left that you've seen Ethari sleep so peacefully. While you could not bring yourself to sleep, you were never too far away as to not soothe away the nightmares when they came to him. He truly is the last testament of your sanity. As light as you can manage, you brush your thumb along the highest point of his cheek.

"If you wanted me awake, you should have just asked." Sleep clouds his visit, but he sees you so clearly against the sharp contrast of night. A vision of pure, unscathed—starlight.

He tilts his head up so that he is looking at you, a look of pure admiration. "Have I told you how beautiful you are, starlight?" You find it in yourself to smile.

"More often with every passing day." He returns your smile, Ethari always was the one who stood in awe of you even when you doubted yourself. Your good nature seemed to move in step with his own, but something about the stars that danced in your eyes—you often seemed otherworldly to him.

"Good, I will never allow you to forget." And you know that he's telling the truth, you believe every word. "They'll come home to us. I know they will." Yet you are not as sure, humans are too unforgivable. Too dangerous and unpredictable. You hate them, and fear what else they are capable of taking away from you.

Neither of you say another word, finding comfort in each other. Letting the comfort exist in this singular moment, tomorrow you will face more fear and anxiety. Tonight, you find peace in Ethari's arms.

"Hope for the both of us, my love. I can only hope it's enough."

Only when you watched Runaan's flower sink so suddenly, when the ripples began to shatter the surface of the water. Your entire world seemed to shatter with your reflection. It felt like the world was on fire, and completely still; all at once, you had little left. Stones burn your knees in scrapes as you cry out for him, even the slam of the door is not enough to rouse you from your torture.

The way Ethari saw you and then saw the flower in the bottom of the pool. The heave as he sees the sunken hope. It was always a fool's mission, but the sensation of your crying form within his own arms is enough to send him into tears. The way your hands grip him without remorse—screaming at the universe that they can't have them.

Runaan is gone.

It hits Ethari like the whole of Xadia was put directly on his shoulders, their husband is dead.

He's gone, and he isn't coming back.

Ethari attempted to focus on the task at hand, the tools and weapons atop his desk never seemed so far from him. It felt as though he was staring at a puzzle he was no longer capable of understanding, but he did his best to keep himself occupied when the silence of the house threatened to consume.

Is this grief? Or is this the new normal?

Where you used to find comfort in Ethari, he could only ever reach you when the books were far from your grasp. A cycle of three titles, meticulously memorizing each page because it reminded you of Runaan. The nights when you would stay up with Runaan when the nightmares were too much, and you would read to him until he lulled off to sleep.

Neither really said a word, silent and long days until the time came to crawl into bed. Only then, arms around each other and duvets tightly enveloping both forms—did the tears freely flow. Did the pain finally mount and the length of the universe seemed to weigh heavy on you both.

However, by the time morning breaks, the silence returns and the image of a sunken flower haunts your vision. Ethari closes his eyes, adjusting himself and returns his gaze to his work. Only something catches his eye, a glimpse—nothing short of a miracle, one that causes his expression to falter.

Rayla...

Unable to turn for a moment, he pauses before walking out the door. Knowing that she would follow, unable to break your heart anymore than it has been already.

"Rayla. Before you left, I told Runaan that you were to goodhearted for the work of an assassin. Y/N told him too." He pauses, glancing into the reflection once more. "So I know you did not betray them out of malice. But that doesn't matter. They're gone. He's gone. Because you abandoned them." His words are harsh, not loud, but there is a sharpness as he recalls your cries from the night before.

Even when she disappeared from the reflection, Ethari was already back inside of the home. You had not moved from your position, and for a moment, Ethari wishes you could have seen her. Known she was alright, even if she cannot come home.

He exhales deeply, gathering what he needs before leaving once more to find her. "This will only break the spell for a moment, but I couldn't bear to let you leave without seeing you one last time." Ethari had to know, to hear her out, and find some comfort in her words. "But I don't understand, Rayla. How could you abandon them?"

She looked the same, different and more worn in others, but he saw her as she was. "I failed them. it was my fault we were discovered, btu I didn't run away." She pauses. "Ethari, we found something. Callum, show him."

"Oh uh..." Ethari turns his attention to the human, smiling a little. "I'm Rayla's earthblood elf friend. Trees to meet you."

"Trees to meet you, too."

"Don't humor him. We found the dragon prince."

"The egg wasn't destroyed."

"And I knew that if we could get him home to his mother, there could be peace."

"It's a miracle. I can't believe it." Ethari's eyes darken, recalling the letter he received from Ibis not too long ago. "But, Rayla, you need to know. The Dragon Queen is dying. Since the death of her mate, she's fallen very ill."

"We have to get to her. It's the only way." Ethari pauses, as he watches Rayla's eyes trail to the home. "Where is Y/N? Can I see them?" Looking through the window to spot you, to catch your gaze.

Rayla is struck by confusion at your still form—you were never that still. Never so quiet. Her eyes wander the way you seem awake, locked in on the book and every so often she’d catch Ethari glance over with concern.

Ethari watches Rayla, as she looks at you—“When we met Y/N, they were deeply wounded by abandonment. Alone and on the cusp of giving up.” His eyes are sad, she notes how he casts you loving glances in between the concern. “Runaan is dead. You exiled. Something in them finally snapped.”

“Will they ever be the same?”

“No Rayla. I don’t think that they will, they might recover, but Y/N has faced great losses…More than most, it’s why they loved you so dear. Because you’ve lost a lot too.”

Ethari whistles: "You can ride faster than you can walk. I'll see a message to the Dragon Queen. If she knows her little one still lives, perhaps she'll hold on."

"Ethari, can I ever come home again?"

"I don't know." His eyes are sad, he knows the devastation you felt when the rumors spread. When the word shifted to call Rayla a betrayer and to ghost her. You fought against it, but soon even you could not fight the thought. Consider the possibility that there might have been some truth to the village's words. "It's a real moon opal..." He holds it out to her. "When I gave its match to Runaan, I told him, "My love will be with you even when the moon is not."

Rayla looks through the window once more and then back at Ethari: "Good bye, Rayla."

Ethari came into the home with a purpose as he gathered another arrow, preparing it to be fired and for the first time since, you looked up at him. Eyes wandering to the message, to the way he seemed certain.

Something in the way he moved, it reminded you of who he once was. "What are you doing?" He meets your eyes, seeing the whole universe fall together in a dance as you rise to your feet.

"I have found us hope." Still, even now, he is holding onto the hope that he can somehow fix this. Change the way things are and you trust him.

"Runaan, the last time I made you one of these, it carried a message of death. but this arrow will carry a message of life. Regina Draconis!" While you do not understand completely, you understand enough to know that Ethari is still fighting for you. Still fighting for your future, the one you will share together. And you trust him.

Long before you loved Ethari and Runaan, before the turn of the century—eons before written history began. There was you and your brother, Aarravos. It was all you knew, and it was all you thought you needed. Masters of the primal energies—the epitome of Star Touch Elf perfection. There was no beauty like yours, and no power that tasted as sweet as the power you possessed.

However, it was never enough for Aarravos and soon enough, you had lost him completely. Your entire existence seemed to erase itself with his loss, the universe seemed so much smaller. It seemed so much more void. No longer did stars shine for you, and soon enough, you saw only the darkness. A never ending abyss of despair, and confusion. You no longer knew what your purpose was beyond the world you were building with your brother. It meant nothing without someone to share the success with.

You lean into the darkness, you found comfort in the silence—perhaps comfort is the wrong word. You found silence in the darkness, your bottomless pit of despair was less violent and loud. Your wandering felt less aimless when you accepted the loneliness. You were not at peace, but the numbness felt bitterly better than the pain of loss.

The greatest of your sins was never looking for him, for you assumed he had simply left you to your misery. Had finally had enough, and so you left him to his adventures—you imagined he must have left you willingly, no one could against the power you wielded.

Seven centuries, long and painful blistering years, in that time you only heard whispers of your brothers antics. Until you heard nothing at all.

Soon enough the sadness no longer touched you, or perhaps you wore it proudly—you rarely missed the brother that had left you alone. If he cared, he would have taken you with him.

A crest of moonlight breaks over the treetops and reflects off the waterfalls, the crisp blue hue brings a soft smile to your lip. Knelt before the basin, you submerge your palms into the clear water and bring it to your lips. The water is not bitter or heavy with minerals, you finish what is in your palm and remove the canteen from your hip. Using one hand, you pinch the lid and the other you submerge the object and wait for the bubbles to stop.

Crack!, you stiffen—eyes flickering to the left side, someone or something is near. The forest has gone quiet, and it leaves you to think that it is a someone. You hum, shifting your leg out from under you and leaning onto it—knife on your hip, another on your chest and ankle. You cap the canteen and tie it off to your belt, swallowing as you place the final knot. Only to hear the rustling once more.

Trying your best not to move, to hush your body and heighten your senses—your fingers curl tightly around the blade, clutching onto it just as the pair of elves break the clearing. You turn quickly, drawing your weapon and posing it high—“If you’re here to start something, it’s probably best you leave.” Before, with Aarravos, you were the voice of reason—diplomatic and poise, but now it is different. It is just you. Their eyes widen significantly, as startled by you as you are by them.

One is smaller physically, but his hair is much longer—he seems more muscular, less lean. While the other seems to be just as imposing, but not physically—there is knowledge behind those eyes. He is the first one to speak, “You’re a Startouch elf.” You nod, posing your weapon higher. “Fascinating.”

However, when your weapon does not drop it is the other who steps protectively in front of the scholar—his expression less than kind. “Startouch or not, please drop your knife. We never meant you any harm.

.

.

.

“We never looked back. It was just the three of us against all of Xadia.”

[hazy-summer-sky]

Rumor has it that if you talk about mentally ill Ethari, I will come scuttling towards you with a WIP

Thanks to @no-cinnamon-for-synonym for posting about this earlier and sending me into a frenzy writing some of my fic, here’s a short sneak peek at a bit of it!

CW under the cut: s*icidal ideation, hallucinations, severe depression, hurt no comfort (yet)

“Are you really going to ignore that?” Ethari jumps at the question, nearly sending him tumbling off the ledge he’s sitting on. He turns around to see Runaan standing a few feet away, crossing his arms.

Surprisingly, Ethari just rolls his eyes and says, “You’re encouraging me to go towards danger now? That isn’t like you.”

“I am trying to get you out of danger.” As Runaan sits down next to him, Ethari returns to sitting with his feet dangling off the ledge and staring at the churning river beneath him. He seems far too calm for someone talking to their dead husband. “There’s only one reason you would come here of all places, alone and in the middle of the night.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe I was just looking for lunablooms and happened to stop here for a rest.” Runaan gives him a look, and after a moment Ethari lets out a frustrated sigh. “You should not even be here. I took my medication today, so can you please stop haunting me for once?”

“I cannot just leave you here, Ethari.” At this, Ethari laughs incredulously.

“Oh, now you cannot go? You never had any trouble leaving when you were alive!” Ethari lets out a strained breath through his teeth. He clutches at his chest, his fingers pulling the fabric of his shirt taught around him.

Runaan gives Ethari that exasperated look again. “You know that is not—“

“What, do you not remember how restless you would get between missions waiting for something ‘useful’ to do?! How you would go out and train more than any of the other assassins, how you would choose to take on as many solo missions as you possibly could?!” Ethari is on his feet now, shouting down at Runaan. “Did you forget how quick you were to accept the Katolis mission despite it being transferred to your team at the last minute, and how you lied about Rayla being sixteen so that you could have the team of six the Dragon Queen wanted?! You’ve always wanted to leave!” The hallucination just watches sadly as Ethari’s temper cools. “Rayla was always so excited when she got to go with you, too…” Ethari wipes his eyes and whispers, “Was being with me really that terrible?”

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Does he still love me?

I’ve been feeling for a while that Runaan and Tinker argued before he and Rayla left on their mission. Argued hard, over him taking Rayla with him. Maybe over other things, too--the mission itself and some less-related issues. Behaviors. How, from Tinker’s perspective, Runaan always does what he’s told. Never thinks for himself. Refuses to accept responsibility for what he does, for the results of his own actions. (The Dragon Queen this, the Dragon Queen that) How he’s going to take Rayla, a fifteen-year-old unblooded assassin, on an assassination mission, because he can’t think his way out of it, and on some level doesn’t want to. How can he sit there and think that anything about that decision is okay? Because he’s not deciding. He’s abstaining. He’s dodging, using that DEX 18 for things it was never meant to be used on.

“Runaan, you can dodge swords and arrows all night long, but you can’t dodge this responsibility. You’ll get Rayla killed! You know she’s not ready!”

And Runaan just. Can’t. See. Where Tinker is coming from. He can’t. He’s trained himself too long to be hard enough to do whatever it takes, and that means shutting a lot of options out. He can be flexible as hell on missions, in every way possible. But he can’t think himself out of a wet paper bag when it comes to civilian decisions. Runaan’s honest-to-the-moon too hard. 

Runaan and Tinker have often understood each other on several levels at once, and even when they don’t really see where the other is coming from, they trust each other. Moonshadows earn trust slowly, but they keep it close to their hearts once they have it. These two have been through a lot together. But Runaan taking Rayla on this mission was just too much for Tinker. He couldn’t stretch his mind far enough to see what Runaan saw, and that scared him. Runaan had a place so quiet and deadly, so calculating, that Tinker couldn’t reach it. Couldn’t reach him when he went there. (this is where VIren lives, btw, that cold, calculating place--Runaan can absolutely go there too)  And Tinker had to decide: Do I turn cold and calculating in order to understand Runaan, or so I draw a line?

Tinker drew the line. Runaan’s the Slytherin, and Tinker’s the Ravenclaw. Only one of these will do whatever it takes, at any cost, and that’s the point where they found themselves. That’s the point where Tinker had to step back and say No. He wasn’t willing to risk Rayla’s life, even if Rayla was. That’s not how you treat your child. But in that moment, saying No to Rayla’s mission meant saying No to Runaan’s plan, and to Runaan. The plan to take Rayla was a reflection of who Runaan is. Runaan felt rejected along with his plan when Tinker objected. 

And so they argued. Maybe they separated. Do Moonshadows break up? Separate? Divorce? Somehow these words don’t seem nearly dramatic enough for the breaking of such a hard-won trust between two elves who love each other deeply, but who fundamentally disagree. What did they do?

*whispers* Runaan, Tinker, what did you do?

Does Rayla know? I guess we’ll find out. But at some point before Runaan’s lotus sank, Tinker lost a stripe on his right arm, a gem from his left horn, and the ringed horn tips he was wearing earlier. Did he set them aside with cool logic and hope that Runaan would come to his senses? Did he yank them off, pry that gem out with a screwdriver, and throw them all off a cliff into a raging river? Did he cry? Did he lock himself in his workshop and build things for a week straight? Did he protest the mission, yell at the Dragon Queen? 

A few lyrics selections from their songs:

(Tinker) [”I Am All That I Need,” Fleet Foxes] So it's true, I've gone too far to find you And the thumbprint scar I let define you Was a myth I made you measure up to It was all just water, winding by you 

(Runaan) [”Kiss From a Rose,” Seal] I've been kissed by a rose on the grey And if I should fall, will it all go away? 

(Tinker) [”Quelqu’un M’a Dit,” Carla Bruni] I am told that destiny is making fun of us It doesn't give us anything and it promise us everything It appears that happiness is within reach So we reach out and we find ourselves crazy However someone told me that you still love me It is someone that told me that you still love me Would it be possible then?

(Runaan)  [Full Moon,” The Black Ghosts] 'Cause all I want is here and now but it's already been and gone Our intentions always last that bit too long Far far away, no voices sounding No one around me and you're still there Far far away,

[unfinished tdp meta]

[blutopaz15]

six(ish) sentence sunday

for a new spicy 5+1 fic ;)

He takes a slow, deep breath against her temple before pressing her away again, which is…understandable, she thinks, if he’s wanting to slow down; it’s hardly chaste, holding onto each other like this. Callum smiles and lets her stay there straddling him, though, pulling her knuckles to his lips before going on.

“I don’t want you to do this for any other reason, okay? Not because you regret leaving, not because you missed me, not because I saved you, not because you’re sorry.”

His hands land on her legs, and Rayla tries to ignore the ache between them when he squeezes her there, tries to focus on how sweet he is to worry about all of that when he so clearly wants this too, tries to keep her eyes off his bare, broad chest, off the runes on his arms, off the way his middle ripples with tension…

“You deserve better than that,” he says, his hands slowly, gently drifting towards her hips. “You deserve…love.”

[zuppizup]

End of the world

Previous - First Kiss (again)

Rayla feels the blade bite into her neck and gasps despite herself. The vines around her wrists and ankles hold her securely, though not cruelly.

Callum lurches forward, gripping his staff that bit tighter.

“Uh uh.” Claudia uses Rayla’s horn to wrench her neck even further back, pressing the blade tighter still. “Not one more step.”

“Let her go, Claudia!” Callum’s eyes dart between hers and Claudia’s.

“Gladly, Callum.” She nods at the bag slung over his back. “Pass me the Cube and you can both walk away from here.”

“No, Callum!” Rayla yells out. She has no idea what Claudia wants with the Cube, but she knows if the Dark Mage wants it, the last thing Callum can do is hand it over to her. A second later there’s a flash of light, then a searing pain across her cheek and she realises Claudia has cut her.

“No!” Callum cries out, rushing towards them.

“One more step.” Claudia hisses, her blade once again at Rayla’s neck. “One more… You wouldn’t believe what I can do with just this.”

Rayla can’t see, but she assumes Claudia is referring to the blood trickling down her cheek.

Callum stops, lowering his staff in defeat.

“Drop it.” Claudia nods at the staff. “Kick it over here.”

Callum’s eyes find Rayla’s again and she sees him nod just a fraction, like he’s trying to reassure her. She inhales to object but Claudia’s blade presses against her throat.

Callum swallows, eyes on the knife as he crouches down and places his staff on the forest floor. Getting to his feet, he does as Claudia insists and kicks it clumsily across the rough ground. Terry bends down and picks it up.

“Getting quite the collection, eh babe?” Claudia smirks, but keeps her eyes on Callum.

Terry doesn’t respond, eyes darting around the clearing.

“Excellent,” Claudia nods at Callum’s shoulder. “Now, the Cube.”

Swallowing, Callum hesitates, clearly struggling to follow through. “What are you going to do with it?”

“That’s none of your concern.” Claudia grips Rayla’s horn tighter. “Hand it over.”

“Claudia, you don’t understand. Aaravos-”

“Aaravos cares about humans. He’s going to help us even the odds.” Claudia sneers at him, and Rayla can’t help but inhale as the blade presses tighter, her skin stinging.

“Stop!” Callum reaches for her, his brow furrowed. “Claudia, please!”

“Enough!” She stands firm, sounding a little more composed. “The Cube. Now.”

“Callum, you can’t-” Rayla pleads, trying to ignore Claudia’s scoff of annoyance.

“Can you keep it down?” She rolls her eyes, reaching into her bag and pulling out some sort of petrified claw. “Htaerb eht laets!”

Rayla’s stomach turns as red light streaks towards her, worms it’s way down her throat before retreating with something.

Immediately she gasps, wanting to clutch at her neck. It’s like she can’t breathe, like the air is catching in her throat as she struggles against her bonds.

“No! ”Callum rushes forward before Claudia grips her by the horn, the blade once again on her throat.

Rayla can barely concentrate on anything now as she gasps and sputters.

“No more games.” Claudia’s voice has lost the mocking tone. “I have no idea how long she can survive like this, but we can test it...”

Callum takes a deep breath as he pulls the bag from his back and retrieves the nondescript looking cube.

“Terry?” Claudia glances at him, nodding at the Cube in Callum’s hand.

He steps forward slowly, seeming to hesitate before he takes it from Callum’s outstretched hand.

Smirking, Claudia let’s go of Rayla’s horn, sheathing her dagger. “Always nice seeing you guys.” She strides over to Terry, giving him a peck on the cheek.

Terry’s eyes glow as he waves his arms and the vines holding Rayla upright begin to retreat. She collapses onto the cave floor, fingers clutching her throat.

Callum rushes to her, pulling at her remaining bonds, eyes frantic as she continues to struggle for air. “Claudia, you promised!”

“Claudia.” Terry holds the Cube back just a fraction when the Dark Mage reaches for it.

Sighing, Claudia rolls her eyes, turning back to Callum and Rayla. “I suppose I did.” Shrugging, she raises the paw again, the light returning to Rayla’s throat.

Rayla takes a deep, desperate breath, hands gripping Callum as he holds her and speaks soothing words.

But they don’t have time for that. Claudia and Terry are already rushing away, escaping, and it’s all her fault. She let herself get captured. Claudia and Viren have the final piece of the puzzle and she practically handed it to them.

She tries to crawl forward, to chase after Claudia and Terry and the Cube as Callum pleads with her to stop, to rest, to recover and...then the clearing goes black.

Next - End of the World

[raayllum]

27 for rayllum pls

Send me a number with a ship and i’ll write it (accepted ships are tdp canon ships + rarepairs (claudiez, sorpeli, corvus/terry, sorvus)

27. i'm going to carry you, okay?

It'd been a while since they'd been stranded out in the wilderness together entirely, their brief stint with the corrupted Banther notwithstanding, even if this time felt... different.

Maybe it was the two years apart, and the last time they'd travelled Xadia together, properly to return Zym, felt like lifetimes ago. Maybe it was because they'd usually been blessed with good weather, and now they were limping up the side of a mountain in the rain (again).

Only this time, Callum bore the brunt of Rayla's weight rather than the other way around.

"Careful," he murmured, guiding her away from the uneven side of the ledge.

She squeezed his shoulder in thanks, even as she scowled with irritability. "I can walk on my own."

"Not in this weather." He was drawing on both his arcanums' affinity for water (the irony was not lost on either of them, he was sure) to keep his face steady in the mud, and it felt like it was barely making a dent.

Part of it was the way Rayla's likely sprained ankle—why would she take that blow for him? Well, he knew why—dragged along the ground, the other being the fact that it was hard to see. The Celestial elves, unhappy that they'd stolen the Corona of the Heavens and the Nova Blade, hunting them down didn't help matters either.

Finally, hedging his weight, Callum gripped her waist and made a decision. "I'm going to carry you, okay?"

"What? Callum—"

But he scooped her up, only straining a little as he got her settled against her chest and made sure the mud wouldn't make him slip. "We'll move faster this way," he said, glancing at her. Her face was pink and close to his when the lightning flashed. "And you shouldn't be putting weight on your ankle."

She seemed to war with herself, momentarily, before she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, surrendering. "Okay." She swallowed. "Thank you."

He chanced a kiss to her forehead and then started back up the mountain, glad when she wrapped her arms around her neck to help keep her secure.

He laid her down in the first cave they found, then used some of his spare kindling and a fulminus to get a fire going. Then he took a spare blanket out of his bag and draped it over her shoulders, her hair damp and their cloaks set to dry on the other side of the fire.

"Thank you," she repeated, fingers curling into the fabric as she gazed at him.

He nodded, thinking of that day on the Nexus when she'd cried over the egg, and he'd decided he couldn't let her carry that burden alone—her grief, her guilt, or even herself.

He took her hand and squeezed it. "Always."

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

So I started singing "Flowers" today bc theatre kid and why not, and then in three hours, 7,000+ words sprung forth in a Hadestown-inspired Rayllum AU. It's a short thing, three chapters, but here's a little snippet from the first chapter! It will be up very soon, probably this week!

Canon divergence from Chasing Shadows Pt 1 short story; basically, if Redfeather hadn't grabbed Rayla before the two Tidebound elves got to her.

Rayla is taken to meet Finnegrin, king of Scumport. And she's given two options: Work for him, or, though it's left unspoken, die. So she signs her soul away. After all, she is already dead.

~

“How are you?” Finnegrin asked pleasantly, petting Stella. “How are you liking Scumport?”

Rayla shook her hair out of her eyes, making a face. “It’s stinky, and your grunts grabbed me pretty much the second I got off the boat. Loving it so far.”

He was definitely aware of the sarcasm dripping from her voice, but nodded along indifferently, most definitely getting to the part where he told her what he wanted from her. “Good, good. So, tell me. Why exactly are you here?”

Rayla shifted. She hated lying, and it wouldn’t get her anywhere. Something in her gut told her he’d know if she lied, and that would only land her in hotter water. “I need information.”

“Lovely. What kind?”

Rayla let herself fold her arms this time. “Why? What do you care?”

“I have things you want. You can do things for me. We’re going to make a deal.”

Why not just take them? Rayla almost asked, but bit her tongue. She wasn’t about to give him any ideas, encourage him to fuck her up even more. And though she didn’t like it, if anyone would have information on Viren, it would be the king of this sleazy city.

So, treading carefully, forbidding herself from showing just how desperate she was, Rayla asked, “What kind of deal?”

He smiled slowly, placing Stella in her arms so gently there had to be some ulterior motive.

Still, Rayla hugged her tight. The monkey nuzzled into the crook of her neck, where Callum had liked to rest his head once upon a time-

She straightened her spine even more. She couldn’t think about Callum, his bright emerald eyes, the way he’d cry if he saw her now, the way he had so freely offered her a chance at happiness and love–

“A beneficial one. For both of us. And really quite a generous one. I have a reputation for being unfair, but that’s just business, dear.”

“What kind of deal?” Rayla repeated, a knife’s edge creeping into her tone. Reassurance like that only served to convince her of the opposite.

Finnegrin meandered to sit at his desk, and motioned for Rayla to sit across from him. She reluctantly did so, not taking her eyes off him.

“I want you to work for me,” he said simply. “You will do odd tasks for me, for a period of time I see fit, and when that time is up, I will give you the information you seek.”

“You don’t even know what information I want,” Rayla challenged, her heart hammering in her throat.

He waved dismissively. “Dear, I can get it. Everything and everyone in Scumport, I own. This place is always a last resort, and last resorts are always the most fruitful. But if you doubt me so, tell me what you want now. Allow me to offer you a… show of good faith, if you will.”

It seemed too good to be true. But Rayla was desperate, and Finnegrin clearly knew it. Everyone who came to Scumport was desperate, and he was an expert at bleeding them dry.

But Rayla had bled before. She’d bled more than her fair share, and she could find more to spare if it meant taking down Viren for good.

Rayla dug her fingers into Stella’s fur. This was her best–her only option. Finnegrin could simply order everyone to withhold information, and they’d do it. Or he could order her dead, and she would be. She’d come too far, done too much to die at the hands of a greedy king.

“I’m looking for the former High Mage of Katolis,” she eventually said, offering as little personal information as possible. This was business. “Lord Viren. He died nearly two years ago. He… fell off the top of the Storm Spire.”

Finnegrin leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “You’ve come out here to search for a dead man? Why do you care?”

“He’s not dead,” Rayla snapped. “His daughter’s a Dark Mage, just like him. He’s not dead for good, but I’m going to make sure he will be. Tell me what you know, or I walk out right now.”

Finnegrin pinned her in place with a piercingly cold gray gaze. He didn’t even have to open his mouth for the message to get across: Walking out wasn’t an option. This was generous, this signing her soul away. Deal or no deal, she’d serve under him. She’d be his plaything for as long as he pleased.

But Rayla didn’t have a soul anymore.

She was already dead.

[jelzorz]

176.

Soren has a dragon that he's had since he was three.

It's one of the few genuinely happy memories he has from his childhood. Most days he struggles to remember any at all—so much of it was posturing and conflict and useless efforts to win his father's pride. It was not the simplest childhood, certainly not the happiest, but Rexy is still in his quarters, and when Soren looks at him, he thinks of games and laughter and the warmth of his mother's arms against the winter cold.

He's still pretty fond of him, even now. He's dusty and old and beat to shit, his left eye loose, his dye faded, and Soren's not going to pretend he doesn't pull him down sometimes to defend him from invisible armies (a perfectly normal twenty-eight year old thing to do, thank you), but Rexy's definitely seen better days too, and Soren thinks of the twins that are supposed to be arriving any day now and thinks it might be time for a little bit of a makeover before Rexy goes back into the fray.

"That's so sweet," chuckles Callum, as he examines the loose stitching at Rexy's ear. "But I gotta be honest, Soren, I dunno that he's gonna make it even if I do fix him. Kids can be really rough."

Soren doesn't doubt it. Callum and Rayla's little girl is barely eighteen months old and she's a terror to anything in the castle smaller than her. "I still think it's worth trying," he says. "If he goes down, he'll go down in battle, and there's no nobler end for a toy."

"True," snorts Callum. He fiddles Rexy's loose eye and tugs it free. Soren tries not to wince. "You've had him forever though. I know he means a lot to you. Are you sure you wanna let your soon-to-be kids tear him up?"

"Mm." Soren shrugs, a little sentimental, a little heartbroken, but resolute all the same. "I don't really have anything else to pass on," he says quietly. "I've been thinking about it for ages, and I—" He huffs. "I just think that Rexy'll watch over them the same way he watched over me. Does that make sense?"

Callum laughs good naturedly and nudges his arm. "Yeah," he says. "I get it." He glances at Soren from the corner of his eye then, and Soren can feel the way Callum studies him, his mentality, his readiness to be a dad. "Are you okay?"

"Mm," says Soren again. This time he shifts uncomfortably, because the thought is terrifying almost more than it is exciting. "I just want to be a better dad than mine was."

Callum smiles and pats his arm. "You've got nothing to worry about there, bud. You're going to be just fine."

"Big assumption," snorts Soren.

"Call it more of an observation," says Callum. "You've done the work. You're always doing the work. That's half the job right there. The rest is just love. Isn't that right, Rexy?"

He raises Rexy then and pitches his voice up an octave. "Don't worry, Soren, I'll keep you in line."

"Good gods."

"Get used to it, man, funny voices are like ten percent of the job."

Soren swats at him, and Callum dodges it only to almost fall out of his chair. "So you'll fix him?"

"I'll do my best," says Callum with a chuckle. Then, more genuinely, he adds, "You're nothing like your dad, Soren. You're going to be fine. Rexy will make sure of it."

Soren barks out a laugh. "I'm sure he will."

(And he does).