#the cletho is platonic but it can be more if you want it to be

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Etho Goes Home

@terracottakore gave me permission to turn this beautiful art of theirs into writing, and so here it is. Thank you for the opportunity!! 💚

Words: 886

Cw: Blood and death

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He knew he wasn't going to make it. In fact, he had known from the beginning that he was nothing more than a dead man walking. He had never stood a chance, especially not against the threat that was now advancing on him.

He felt like a wounded rabbit fleeing for it’s life, and Scar the hungry wolf. Outnumbered, outskilled, and entirely out of options, It was all that Etho could do to push his legs a little harder to try and cover the distance between him and his home before it was too late.

Home.

And wasn't that a beautiful word? Home.

Home was where his hand was held in a warm grasp by one who he loved and who loved him in return as they ran through the tall grass in search of constellations and shooting stars to make wishes upon. It was where he was never alone. Where he woke up each morning without fear. Where a warmth blossomed in his chest and his cheeks ached with the smile that graced his seldom shown face. Where he could breathe freely and laugh openly.

Home was that and so much more.

If Etho was to die today, he would not do it on unfamiliar soil. He would do it on the grounds of his own home. That is where he will make his final stand. Not at the bottom of a stone tower that had always been a beacon of death. Not in some dirty, blood soaked lake. And not in the woods where no one would see it. No, he would die in his home.

His breaths came out in uneven pants as he climbed the hill, where the remains of his ransacked home sat on the crest. His side ached, his legs even more so. His wounds throbbed, his heart pounding against strained ribs. His head felt impossibly heavy, as did his limbs, but as he finally breached the property line, his foot touching down onto that familiar grass at last, he couldn't help but feel relief.

He had made it.

And just in time, he thought, as an ender pearl hit the grass in front of him with a deceptively gentle thump. Only moments later, Scar appeared in the pearls place, a terrifying grin on his face as he raised his stained sword over his shoulder with both hands.

"Hello, Etho!" He said in a voice far too cheerful for the situation.

Etho tried in vain to raise his sword in defense of the blow, or to possibly even return it, but it was of no use. He knew it wouldn’t be. He was too weak, too slow. His sword was knocked from his grasp in one motion, and in the next Scar’s own sword was being plunged into Etho’s abdomen.

The diamond blade sank through the flesh of his stomach like he was made of soft butter. He gasped as it was ripped carelessly free, warm blood spraying from the new wound in an almost impressive arch. With trembling hands, he reached up to try and stem the new flow of blood as he stumbled away. He ended up losing his balance and pitching sideways, landing sprawled out in the grass with his arm crushed uncomfortably under his own weight and cheek pressing into the wet grass. Moister rolled down his nose and temple to join the dew - he couldn't tell if it was sweat or tears.

A loud clap of thunder could be heard, signaling that he had no more fight left in him, and that this was well and truly the end. There was no coming back from the grievous injury. His ears rang as he watched Scar leave him to die, that wide, wide grin never leaving his blood-stained face.

Etho squeezed his eyes shut tight against the pain, breathing rapid and laboured as he forced himself to turn over onto his back, a hand uselessly clutching his stomach in an attempt to hold himself together just a little bit longer.

Blood bubbled up past his lips, soaking into the fabric of his mask and making it impossibly harder to breathe. He forced his eyes open to stare up at the twinkling stars. There weren't many in the sky, the sun had just barely begun to set after all, but there were enough.

His tired eyes were already beginning to blur, leaving the stars nothing but fuzzy balls of light that blended together until they were all but one image.

As he lay there in the grass, its cool temperature now warmed by his spreading blood, he could almost pretend that everything was alright. He could almost imagine the warmth was from the tender embrace of the one he loved. If he tried hard enough, he could feel the weight of another hand in his own. In his ever ringing ears he could just faintly hear the sound of her infectious laughter.

He couldn't even bring himself to feel the fear of a final death as his body grew numb and black creeped into his vision, blinding him to the stars above. He could only feel contentment and love. He had a good run, hadn’t he? It certainly felt like it.

The last star he could see in his tunneling vision finally faded out, and Etho along with it.