Ethari grew up in the hollow woods and Runaan was trained as an assassin at a very young age. They first met, as Runaan accompanied the assassins on a mission to gather medical supplies: flowers. And ethari helped Runaan picking them, and their thoughts were:
Runaan: "hmm what a weird child, not focussed on the flower picking mission... but... he is kinda.... cute?!"
Ethari: "omg he is so amazing... he is my age and already trained as a assassinn. Omg... he is looking at me *squeezes plushy and stares at flower, he is holdikg with his toesies*"
For Ruthari Week 2021. It doesn’t really fit any of the week’s themes, but I wanted to do a nice (sad) tribute to our favourite couple of elves. Please let them be reunited soon!
Hello, TDP fandom! Do you like Ruthari? Because we sure do! So this year we have decided to host a Ruthari week, in honour of everyone's favourite elf husbands and will be accepting content in any and all forms.
Important information:
Ruthari week will be held from June 20 - June 26.
Make sure to use the event hashtag: #ruthariweek2021
Prompts:
20th - Growing Up | Growing Old
21st - Leaving | Returning
22nd - Sun's Tears | Lunablooms
23rd - Giving | Taking
24th - Blue Moon | Blood Moon
25th - Horns | Markings
26th - Heartblooms | Moon Opals
Other Information:
We will try to reblog all posts made during the event, but if we skip over a work of yours, feel free to tag us. (Again, make sure you use the hashtag so we can find it.)
If you create anything on a different platform (i.e.: ao3, twitter, youtube, etc.) that you want showcased on tumblr, make sure you share a link to it.
If you have any questions, feel free to drop an ask in our inbox at any time!
We are so thrilled for this event. Can't wait to see what you all make!
Tags: post-coin Runaan, Runaan pulls an Eljaal, belated reunion, angry Ethari, all the feels, angst, fluff, i missed you, toppy Ethari, Runaan is never gonna be ready to hear about Rayllum
Prompt: Leaving/Returning
Moonberry Wishes
The clang of sword on shield snapped Runaan out of his morning meditation. His eyes opened on the now-familiar view of the rocky slopes of eastern Duren, their golden stone bleached with early morning sunlight. Squinting against the light, Runaan tracked the sound of battle, snatched up his bowblade, and hurled himself off the high stone ledge where he’d made secure camp the night before. The descent to the narrow pass a few hundred meters below wasn’t difficult for one with his skills, and he leaped easily from boulder to boulder as he descended past the timber line toward the old trade road.
The faint flicker of a small cooking fire at the edge of the road caught his eye as he targeted a cluster of figures at the far edge of the road. Someone had camped there in the night, and he hadn’t heard a thing! The assassin tossed his confusion aside and leaped down, skidding dramatically through a cloud of fine pale dust shot through with angled sunbeams, expecting the attackers to turn and run, or possibly turn and stare. To acknowledge his arrival, at the very least--he was a Moonshadow elf, and making himself known on purpose was a rare treat.
But no one did. Not even the traveler he’d rushed in to rescue. The man stood still, his back to Runaan, the hood of his cloak pulled up.
Runaan blinked mid-skid and reassessed, fingers tense on his bowstring.
Half a dozen bandits had clearly attempted to besiege this man. Yet three of them lay sprawled in the dust already, and one hung by his belt from a broken tree limb three meters off the ground. As Runaan skidded in, another bandit got shoved backward through the air and plopped into a muddy patch in the woods with a squelch.
Runaan sought the last bandit as he battled his surprise. He seemed to have found the one human who could hold his own as well as an assassin against half a dozen attackers. He finally spotted the greasy man when his head rose up over the traveler’s hood, caught in the would-be victim’s grip as he was bodily lifted into Runaan’s line of sight by the front of his shirt. The traveler’s other arm dropped to his side, revealing a small round silvery shield strapped to his forearm.
Runaan reassessed again, casting his gaze around the small campsite, seeking clues as to who this strange paradox of a person was.
The traveler had camped in the most foolish location, right where any passing rogue could find him. Yet he’d somehow managed to set up his camp silently in the night. He carried no sword, but he’d bested half a dozen desperate humans with a small shield. His campfire was expertly laid, but the aroma that rose from it was one of stewing fruits.
Runaan’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly doubted that this stranger had ever needed his help at all.
“I have a question for you,” the traveler huffed to his captive, catching his breath from their quick scuffle. “And if you answer me truthfully, you can be on your way.” His voice was soft velvet over cold steel, and its gentle brogue stabbed Runaan in the gut with an icicle made of all the frozen feelings he’d tried to ignore for nearly a year.
The world telescoped around him, streaking past his vision with dizzying speed. His freedom from the coin, his shame and uncertainty over failing half his mission, the strange sense of mourning he felt over feeling his blood oath breaking with his supposed death, his decision to wander in search of new purpose instead of returning home and learning he’d been ghosted. His honor had always been vital to his identity, and he hadn’t been ready to face the risk of having it stripped away despite his best and most dutiful intentions. Three seasons had passed since he’d turned his boots toward the west, and not one step had landed on Xadian soil.
But apparently Xadia had grown tired of waiting for him. This stranger was no human. This stranger didn’t sound like a stranger, either.
Runaan’s breath burst from his mouth in a single disbelieving gasp. “Ethari?”
The traveler dropped his bandit like a discarded cloak and spun to face Runaan. His silvery shield thudded to the dirt unheeded. Warm brown eyes blazed out at the errant assassin from beneath a dark blue hood edged with locks of long black hair, and his dark skin was unmarked by blue Moonshadow paint. He also sported five fingers on each hand.
Runaan let out a soft grunt of pain. This man wasn’t his--
The traveler’s mouth fell open in surprise at the sight of the Moonshadow before him. A quick hand flicked back his hood, and a pale shimmering spell rippled across his body.
Runaan’s eyes widened even further.
The Moon spell danced around the traveler’s hidden features, revealing elf horns, cheek markings, shoulder swirls. His black hair became shaggy and white, and his eyes warmed to a soft sunset, just as wide as Runaan’s were.
The elves stared at each other in shock. To the side, the discarded bandit scrambled to his feet and hesitantly edged away, his gaze darting between the safety of the forest and the big elf who had flicked him aside.
“Never mind,” Ethari told him in a faint voice, eyes locked onto Runaan. “I found him.”
The bandit nodded eagerly as if he’d actually been of help. He gathered up his foolhardy compatriots, and together the humans bolted without a backward glance.
Runaan tracked him with a tense stare until he was out of sight before he let himself drink in the sight of his precious craftsman from head to toe. Tension he’d been holding for nearly a year began to ease from his shoulders. “Ethari.” His voice was a tentative prayer.
“Runaan.” Ethari’s voice was faint, too.
The assassin’s eyes dropped to the shield. Its edge was rimmed with all the phases of the Moon. Runaan wondered briefly how many enchantments Ethari had crammed into its swirlies. “You’re fighting?” he murmured.
“I’m on a mission,” Ethari corrected breathlessly. His chest was still heaving, but Runaan suspected it was for a different reason now.
Runaan felt the first hints of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t smiled since the Silvergrove, but Ethari always had a way of--
With a growl, Ethari charged at him. Runaan managed to drop his bowblade safely into a nearby fern before Ethari seized him by the front of his shirt and backed him up against a nearby tree trunk. Runaan gripped his husband’s wrists and braced for impact, wincing as his horn tip clattered against the rough bark. His toes slipped on an angled root and dangled in the air as Ethari pinned him easily in place. Runaan’s eyes danced from his husband’s furious eyes to his bulging deltoids to his aggressive stance to his fingers knotting in Runaan’s shirt to the way those two soft locks of hair always fluttered right in the middle of his forehead, and finally managed to focus on his mouth, which had been pouring an angry stream of words past his ears for several seconds.
“--where the fuck have you been? Why didn’t you come home? I thought you were dead! Or lost! Or hurt! Or captured again! I was worried sick! Did you ever think about that? Did you?”
Runaan opened his mouth to stammer a reply.
Ethari’s question was apparently rhetorical. He bulled onward: “I gave Rayla your lotus in a jar of water from the pool, and she said she’d bring you back to me. And she started to promise me, and do you know what I did, Runaan? Do you? I stopped her. I couldn’t take another broken promise from an assassin standing beside my ritual pool. I couldn’t take it. So I sent her off without it, and I started to hope again. And the full Moon came, and went, and I couldn’t sleep a wink, for days and days. I waited! I waited for you, you shadowsaken idiot!”
Runaan couldn’t look away. The full force of Ethari’s rage and sorrow poured into his eyes and slammed against his chest, leaving him breathless. “I…”
Ethari wasn’t nearly done, though. “And then Rayla returned to the Silvergrove, with Lain and Tiadrin and Callum and Ezran and the Queen of the Sunfire Elves and her human girlfriend--”
“Her what?” Runaan blurted.
“--and she had to tell me to my face that you’d run away,” Ethari continued. “Left in the night. Bolted. Scarpered. Fled, like some kind of coward. She had to say those words to me, and she had to watch me crumple to the floor and fall apart, again!” He checked Runaan against the tree a second time. “Again, Runaan!” Another shove. “I fell apart again!” And another. “How many times am I going to let you destroy my heart before I’ve had enough?” Furious tears spilled down Ethari’s cheeks and lost themselves in his markings.
“N-No…” Runaan’s whispered denial shivered into a sudden sob. Ethari’s angry slams barely registered compared to the pain of seeing his tears. His fingers fluttered toward Ethari’s cheeks, aching to wipe away the sorrow he’d caused. “I’m so sor--”
Ethari pulled him away from the tree and slammed him back against it with more force, interrupting Runaan’s gesture. “I’m not finished!” he roared. “Don’t you dare be soft with me before I’ve gotten this off my chest! I’ve been carrying it alone for ten months and I’ll be bloodcursed if I let you stop me from unloading every last word now that I’ve found you, do you hear me?”
Half terrified, half dazzled at the raw power in Ethari’s voice, Runaan could only nod mutely and cling to his husband’s wrists for dear life.
“Good!” Ethari yelled. He panted heavily for a few breaths, staring Runaan in the eye with a baleful glare, before asking in a slightly less aggressive tone, “Alright, now where was I?”
A distant light dawned in Runaan’s heart, and his brows lifted softly. “You were asking me how many times you were going to let me destroy your heart before you’ve had enough,” he supplied gently.
Ethari’s fists tightened in Runaan’s shirt. He slowed his breathing and swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was merely resentful. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”
Runaan felt one of his own tears escape over the edge of his cheek. His heart was absolutely thrumming with Ethari’s presence. His warmth, his strength, the smell of his breath, the shivering rumble of his voice--Runaan was nearly delirious with so much enchanting proof of his husband’s existence right there in front of him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relaxing in Ethari’s grip. When he opened them again, they lingered on Ethari’s hands for a long moment, and he gave his husband’s wrists a long, fervent squeeze. “You’re welcome,” he murmured.
“No, don’t you do that, don’t you be soft and handsome when I’m angry at you,” Ethari protested grumpily. He set Runaan on his feet and checked him lightly against the tree with a quick press of his fingertips.
Runaan let out a soft grunt as his back connected with the bark again. “I keep asking you to tell me how to stop doing that, but you never have.”
Ethari glared balefully at him, and his lip curled once again. But then his bottom lip shivered, and his face crumpled into longing. He cupped Runaan’s head in his hands, bringing their foreheads together with a soft bump and pressing hard. One hand wound into Runaan’s hair, and the other encircled his shoulders, pulling him tightly against Ethari’s chest until their noses brushed tips. “You utter idiot. I missed you,” Ethari breathed, so softly Runaan almost didn’t catch it.
Uncertain but needy, Runaan slipped his hands inside Ethari’s cloak and gripped the back of his broad belt, pulling their bodies flush. He waited, silent, soaking up every heartbeat of this soft, precious, long-awaited contact with his beloved.
“I stayed, for a while.” Ethari’s words rode just above a whisper, and their warmth brushed Runaan’s lips. “For Lain and Tiadrin, and for Rayla. But they knew. They knew. They knew before I did.”
Runaan’s fingers squeezed tighter, clinging, needing to hear the rest but fearing the truth of the pain his absence had caused.
“I didn’t know where to begin, but Rayla helped me. And so did King Ezran, and Prince Callum, and Queen Aanya, and Lujanne, too. I started wandering, following stories of a shadowy hero who always saved people from danger and vanished into the night. No one ever admitted to getting a good look at him, no one remembered his words. They just knew they owed him their lives.”
Runaan huffed in wry amusement. He’d thought he was changing his life entirely, and yet his husband had known him in an instant, merely from stories of his minor exploits. “I can’t ever hide from you, can I?”
“I could recognize you by touch alone,” Ethari breathed, “by smell. I would know you blind, by the way your breaths came and your feet struck the earth. I would know you in death, at the end of the world.”
A wry smile lifted one corner of Runaan’s mouth. “I think we’ve been.”
Ethari cupped Runaan’s cheeks softly and gave him a steady look. “You made me a promise, Runaan, to return my heart to me.”
“I did.”
“But I had to go looking for it myself.”
Runaan’s gaze dropped. “You did.”
Ethari gently lifted his chin with a finger until their eyes met again. “Well? I’m here now.”
Runaan’s brows twitched down. “But… I failed you. I destroyed it, with my carelessness and my pride. You just asked me--”
Ethari pressed his finger against Runaan’s lips. “I asked you how many times. I know. Because it’s happened more than once. I know that, too. Yes, I’m angry with you. But I didn’t hike all over Garlath’s green earth just to tell you to stuff it, you great stupid moonberry.”
“What did you hike all over Garlath’s green earth to tell me, then?” Runaan asked, half afraid of the answer.
“I’m a Master Craftsman, Runaan. You should remember well how many weapons I’ve repaired for you over the years, because it’s been a lot. And I’ve repaired other things for you, too. Your feelings. Your body. Your own heart.”
Runaan went still under Ethari’s touch as a frenetic parade of memories streaked past his mind’s eye. Ethari’s soft words, soft touch, soft kisses, ten thousand times over. Overcome, he pressed his cheek into his husband’s hand and nodded, feeling hot tears slipping past his lashes.
“I’m not a Master Craftsman for nothing. I can repair anything I choose to. Anything at all,” Ethari continued softly. He leaned his forehead against Runaan’s again. “And I choose to repair my own heart when you break it. I choose. To re-pair my heart. With yours.”
Runaan laughed through a sob at his husband’s pun and slid gentle arms around his husband, reassuring himself of his husband’s warm, solid strength.
Ethari sighed in relief at Runaan’s gesture. “I hiked all over Garlath’s green earth to choose you, again. But I need to know, Runaan… What do you choose?”
Runaan sought his husband’s warm sunset eyes and found them brimming with emotion. His own lip trembled at the sight of the pain he’d caused his most beloved. A thousand years of tradition flashed through his mind, its insistence foggy and distant without the pull of his lost oath. Without that urgency pounding through his own blood, there was only one thing he longed to be: with Ethari. With this elf whom he’d hurt, with this elf whom he was very sure he didn’t deserve.
He cupped his husband’s face and bared his heart for whatever fate awaited him. “You,” he said, through an ecstatic sob. “I choose you. Take this heart of yours back, Ethari, if you truly still want it. I did my best to keep it safe, but it deserved so much more care than I could give it… I did you wrong, my heart, so wrong, and I dare not make you any promises, but...” Runaan’s words faded to desperate puffs of breath that ghosted across Ethari’s lips as he leaned closer, drawn by the dizzyingly warm, solid presence of his precious husband. “My heart… I missed you, too...”
Ethari met him halfway, and he tasted as if they’d never been apart. They pulled each other close, full of eager hands and soft whimpers. Runaan’s head spun with the blessed ecstasy of his husband’s kisses, and he clung to Ethari’s sturdy shoulders for balance even as he pressed himself closer against him.
All those months apart suddenly seemed to be happening all at once, endless yet instantaneous. Runaan felt eight kinds of fool for letting his blasted honor get in the way of the love this glorious elf was determined to shower him with. With a soft cry, he buried his face against Ethari’s neck and threw his arms around his shoulders. Ethari wrapped him in a tight hug and rocked him slowly, humming into his hair.
“What do I do now?” Runaan murmured brokenly into Ethari’s purple scarf.
“Come home,” Ethari said promptly. He caressed Runaan’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Come home.”
Runaan raised his head, accepting Ethari’s easy words as proof that he hadn’t been ghosted back in the Silvergrove. But in that quiet moment there in his husband’s arms, high in the mountains of Duren, he realized that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t care what the Silvergrove thought of him. Only Ethari’s regard mattered now. “You’re my home. And you’re right in front of me.”
His husband’s eyes lit with eager warmth, and a teasing lilt accompanied his sassy grin. “Then you’d better come here.”
Runaan bit his lip at his husband’s suggestive pun. “My camp’s just up the slope.”
Ethari took Runaan’s face in his hands, backed him gently against the tree again, and kissed him passionately. When he finally let Runaan up for air, he gasped, “What in Garlath’s green earth makes you think I can wait that long?”
Some while later, the husbands ambled along the mountain road, hand in hand, with nowhere in particular to go. Ethari talked as lightly as he could of the things he had seen, and Runaan listened with a full heart and trod with a quiet and grateful step. His hand never left Ethari’s, needing constant reassurance that he was truly there beside him after so long, that he had truly come looking for his long-lost husband. That Runaan was worth searching for, despite all he had done.
If Ethari noticed the occasional tear of humble gratitude slipping over Runaan’s cheeks, he was kind enough not to draw attention to it. Instead, he easily shifted topics to give Runaan time to adjust, telling sweet anecdotes and dramatic retellings and recounting his brushes with powerful figures that Runaan already knew, and some he didn’t. He hopped and twirled and bowed in time with his stories, never once letting go of his wayward husband’s hand, spinning close for the occasional kiss as he always had.
“...and then the Tidebound ambassador arrived and caused quite a splash,” Ethari said as they crested a hill. A warm breeze wafted up from the valley below, ruffling Runaan’s side tails and Ethari’s scarf. “Literally, the elf shot himself out of the well! I could hear the humans yelping all the way back at the blacksmith’s shop. If it hadn’t been for Callum’s quick thinking, that first contact would’ve been quite the wet blanket! But he had everything sorted in minutes. Rayla’s truly chosen well, my heart.”
Runaan’s feet slowed. “Chosen well…?”
Ethari paused, wide-eyed. “Surely they told you when they freed you.”
Runaan’s eyes narrowed. “They mysteriously neglected to mention.”
"But why would she-?" To Runaan’s surprise, Ethari suddenly burst into snorting laughter. “Ah. Clever girl.”
“What?” Runaan asked, suspicious.
“I should’ve known what that wicked twinkle in her eye was about when I told her I’d come searching for you. She’s letting me do the mentioning for her, right now. She knows us too well, love.”
Runaan blinked. Rayla and the human prince? Together? The scheming young couple had left Ethari to search for his husband, and to unwittingly break the news of their courtship to him, knowing that Runaan would take such disturbing news best from the elf he loved most.
That didn’t mean he’d take it well.
“I’ll be right back.” Runaan spun on his heel, stalking directly toward Katolis.
Ethari planted his feet and towed Runaan right back around in front of him, though. He pulled the wayward assassin into his arms and kissed him right on his frown. “Welcome back! I missed you. Again.” His dark brows bent softly.
Runaan’s tense expression broke, and his eyebrows drifted high in dismay at what he’d just tried to do. He clung to Ethari’s muscled arms and pressed his forehead against his husband’s. “Moon help me, I am a great stupid moonberry.”
“Yes, you are. And I love you anyway.” Ethari’s embrace was gentle and warm.
Runaan pressed a soft kiss of apology against his husband’s lips and let it linger, soaking up Ethari’s patience. “Walk with me again, then, and…”
“And?”
Runaan took a deep breath and slid his fingers between his husband’s. “And... tell me of Callum. Apparently, I have quite a bit of catching up to do.”
Ethari grinned and nudged Runaan’s shoulder with his own. “As my moonberry wishes.”
Early in their relationship, Ethari mentions wanting to try new, intimate things with Runaan, only to learn of a world of repression he hadn’t expected. Years of pain and toxic beliefs rise to the surface, and the boyfriends work through them together. Rated M.
and never tire of your smile (Ruthari Week 2021 #1)
Pairing: Ruthari
Rating: Gen
Tags: soft elf husbands, dancing, light family angst
Prompt: growing old
and never tire of your smile
Ethari woke first, an occurrence that still didn’t happen often, even after all this time. He took a deep breath, feeling Runaan’s warmth against his chest as they lay spooning. His nose filled with the soft, rich familiarity of his husband’s hair, and he smiled despite barely being awake.
He slid a warm hand atop Runaan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze as he hummed a kiss against that long white hair. His fingers brushed lightly along his husband’s right bicep, over muscles wiry with decades of training, atop markings that had changed half a dozen times. They tracked from the archer’s arm to his waist and down his thigh, coming to rest above his knee, covering an ancient scar. Ethari pressed his palm there gently, warming the inflexible scar tissue.
He dozed again, happily cradling his husband. Happier still that Runaan could sleep. He would never tire of seeing his beloved in repose, at peace, content. Runaan’s soft, even breaths, his lax shoulders, his gently mussed braid, his sprawled bare feet. His utter trust in Ethari, to strip away all his protective layers, turn his back, and let himself be held.
Ethari felt hot tears prick at his eyes. He trusts me with his life, with his happiness, with his every breath. Even now, even after so long, after everything we’ve been through together. I love him so much. So much. His hand gently squeezed atop Runaan’s scarred leg.
Runaan’s ear perked in Ethari’s line of sight. “My heart?” he murmured.
Ethari smiled and pressed his forehead against Runaan’s hair, between his horns. “Twas my breathing gave me away again, wasn’t it?”
“As always,” Runaan responded softly. “Are you alright?”
Ethari’s soft laugh escaped through a beaming smile. “Never better.” He snuggled against Runaan and let his breath out more slowly, centering himself against his husband’s certainty. “How’s your leg on this fine morning?”
Runaan tensed his muscles under Ethari’s touch, testing. “I think I can show you a thing or two on the dance floor after breakfast,” he said through a smile.
“Oh, you think that, do you?” Ethari replied, chuckling. “Bring it on, hot stuff.”
Runaan’s chest shook with a silent laugh. “I assure you, Ethari, I am rarely more than lukewarm at best these days.”
“Who is Luke Warm, and why would I dance with him when you exist?” Ethari teased.
“I-” Runaan’s sudden bafflement tensed his shoulders and stiffened his ear point. Adorable, how Ethari could still catch him off guard with his jokes.
The craftsman laughed and shifted onto an elbow, then he leaned over and smooched Runaan’s cheek loudly. “Up and at ‘em, love. Rayla and the grandbabies are coming, and I’ll have you in fine form for their arrival or die trying.”
That got Runaan motivated. He rolled out of bed with only one low groan of effort and dragged Ethari after him for some morning yoga. The husbands mirrored each other through slow shifts in pose until their usual routine was complete. Then Ethari took Runaan’s hand and gave it a gallant kiss. “Thank you again for slowing your morning workouts to a pace I can match,” he said, offering a fond wink.
Runaan shook his head and smiled, stepping closer until his forehead pressed against Ethari’s. His slowing hadn’t been voluntary, or swift, but rather a slow collection of reasons to be more gentle with himself over the years. “Thank you for thinking of me so softly, for one more morning.”
“And I’ll think of you softly tomorrow morning, too,” Ethari threatened gently.
Runaan’s eyes remained shut, and his voice went husky. “Do you promise?”
“I so promise,” Ethari said. He pulled Runaan into a slow, easy dance turn. “Breakfast?”
Runaan’s eyes opened again, and a soft smile graced his lips. “Famished.”
The husbands danced their way around each other in the kitchen as they fetched bowls and cups and berries and tea. Their hands found each other’s shoulders and waists as they passed, their hips bumped fondly, and they murmured wordlessly and clucked their tongues at each other’s morning sass. Finally, they settled together to eat, and Runaan propped his bad leg across Ethari’s knees with a soft grunt of effort.
“It’ll be nice to see Rayla again,” Ethari said after a big sip of tea. He rested his free hand atop Runaan’s knee.
“We see her every month, my light,” Runaan chided.
“It’s still going to be nice,” Ethari sassed. “And this time, she’s bringing her whole brood. I’m not sure we’ve even met the youngest ones yet. They live so far away now.”
Runaan set his tea down and stared into his cup. “She can’t bring the one she misses most, though.”
Ethari took a slow breath and nodded. He’d had to contemplate such thoughts himself, once. Talking about those days had bonded him with Rayla in a way nothing else could, when Callum reached the end of his natural days. “My heart?”
Runaan’s brows lifted questioningly.
Ethari ordered his thoughts into gentle swirlies and drew them out for Runaan to follow. “Rayla and Callum got to grow old together. They had the fullest life they could. Callum made sure of it. He was the one with the sub-century lifespan, and he was determined to make every day count. And oh, how they did. He made Rayla very happy for a long, long time. He taught her softness and joy and all the human puns she could handle. And their little ones have grown, and had their own little ones, and on and on. Runaan, Rayla’s family is huge now. Our family. Full of elves and humans and a beautiful blending of both. Everywhere she looks, she sees Callum. His touch on her life, his love for her. She sees him when she looks at us, too.”
“Us?”
Ethari fed Runaan a berry and sealed his gift with a kiss. “We wouldn’t be here without him, either.”
Runaan nodded slowly. “He did so much for us. For me.”
Ethari squeezed Runaan’s hand. “And I made sure he knew how grateful I was for his good heart, as often as I could.”
Runaan’s mind flashed through old memories of battle, argument, respect, and eventually, trust. Those paths were well-worn by now--familiar--and walking them again, in memory of Callum, even on this special day, felt… right. “You helped him change the world.”
Ethari winked. “Kind of my thing.”
Runaan smiled fondly at him for a long moment. “I’m glad we have today, my heart.”
Ethari eased his husband’s leg down to the floor and stood. “Me, too,” he replied, holding out a hand. Runaan took it. “Alright, hot stuff. Show me what you got. Come dance me into the ground. I know you want to.”
Runaan chuckled softly and let Ethari tow him to his feet.
As they joined hands and began to dance, slowly and sedately but with an effortless grace borne of decades of practice, Ethari’s eyes followed Runaan’s every move, radiating with love. “Happy hundredth anniversary, Runaan.”
Runaan leaned into Ethari’s warmth and sighed in deep contentment. “Happy hundredth, Ethari. I know I say this all the time, my heart, but… Thank you. For loving me all these years. I would be a very different elf, had I never met you. A worse elf, I’m certain.”
“As would I, my heart,” Ethari replied.
“No…” Runaan’s jaw tensed, and his steps slowed. Ethari slowed to match, waiting. “I… might have gotten in the way of this future you’ve worked so hard to bring about. I was young, often foolish… I got in my own way more than I like to admit. The older we get, the more I value your incredible patience, my heart.” Runaan’s eyes clung to Ethari’s as they swayed slowly, locked in a soft battle for who could be the softest.
Ethari twirled around Runaan and kissed the back of his shoulder in passing. “The older we get, my shade, the more you reward me for that patience. I’ve never regretted waiting for you, not a single day. You’ve been my perfect match for a whole century.” He thought of Rayla, and of Callum, and of endings and cycles and how family is a kind of eternity all its own. “Whatever our future holds for us, I’ll dare to hope just once more for another morning of waking to your love.”
Runaan pirouetted and spun back into Ethari’s arms, and the husbands gently danced their way around the room together. “Mmm, that is very daring of you.”
Ethari flicked his eyebrows up under his shaggy fringe. “I learned from the best.”
“And I learned all my softness from the best. ...Eventually.”
Ethari couldn’t help but kiss him when the dance brought them close again. They swayed together, holding each other gently, smooching over and over and humming an entire conversation of delight, until they reached the spot where they’d first begun dancing. There, Runaan’s eyes sparkled with familiar challenge.
Ethari raised a dark brow. “All warmed up now, are we?”
Runaan’s reply was a teasing smirk. “Ready to get danced into the floor?”
Ethari’s laugh was a sudden bright sparkle as Runaan whirled him into the next century of their endless dance.
