Callisto braiding back the other side of Skor's hair before the battle at the Storm Spire in hopes of keeping him a little safer. Skor promising to stay near, because Callisto's arm isn't really in fighting shape yet, and they use a two handed weapon. Promising each other they'll find each other when it's over, whether in this world or the next. Skor giving Callisto a braided ribbon to tie around their glaive to carry his love the way he carries theirs in his hair, pressing a kiss to their knuckles to get a single taste of them before they risk it all. Holding so close they can breathe each other's air and not promising a tomorrow they don't know if they'll get, but leaving it known that they'll find each other again somehow, someday, regardless. Finding each other battered in the aftermath of the battle, not sharing a word but wrapping each other in a hug to breathe them in and pulling back only enough to finally, finally share a kiss in the shadows of the Spire when no one's watching them.
Author's note: shadowsign is completely made up, and has no basis in any real-life sign language, somewhat by necessity as I don't know of any real world sign that only uses four fingers. This isn't meant to be a perfect representation of how sign language "translates" to spoken. Sign languages are languages unto themselves and just like translation between verbal languages, there are going to be connotations and double meanings that are different from one to the other, so very "literal" translations often aren't quite accurate to the meaning the speaker is trying to convey (see: many people's much more educated analysis of ASL in the cartoon and how the speaking characters interpret it). I've just done my best to give a basic portrayal of that.
Twenty years of this duty had made Runaan a light sleeper whenever he was outside the shelter of his home hollow - or his husband's arms - and he woke enough to be aware of it when Ram handed the night's watch over to Skor. He blinked through the darkness at them, confused for a moment. Since the addition of the children, they'd all been alternating tents; the princes stayed in the tent of the first watch, and they traded through the other five as the night went on. This time Skor showed his teeth at Ram for even ducking towards the tent he emerged from. Waking up a little further to look, it was clear enough as to why - he had been in Callisto's, and the wounded elf was still asleep inside.
As Skor went to sit on the watcher's perch and Ram obediently backed off and went to sleep in Skor's empty tent, Runaan sighed deep and low and pushed himself out of his bedroll. He needed to talk to his friend.
Skor was silent when Runaan sat down next to him, though he glanced over to acknowledge his approach.
"Callisto?" Runaan prompted softly.
Asleep. Skor signed.
Runaan raised an eyebrow at him. "Your throat?"
Shouting over the water.
"Ah." Runaan shifted to face him, to see his hands better. "So. Callisto is worth holding a numbing spell over, but when I needed stitches a year ago . . ."
Skor rolled his eyes. "You were fine." He signed pointedly.
"I am." Runaan agreed, but tilted his head at his friend. "But that isn't why this was different."
Skor didn't deny it, just cast his gaze back down from the tree to watch the occasional sign of the tracker they'd picked up over the course of the day. They had finally caught up a bit after night fell, though they weren't too daring getting closer.
Runaan watched him for a moment and then glanced back at the tent, which Skor had shut firmly behind him when he left it. He felt Skor's tension rise when he looked, and gave him another pointed look in response.
"Say what you want to say, Master of Blades." Skor signed with a flat look through his hair.
Runaan sighed. "You are both very dear friends of mine." He said softly. "I will not ask for details, because I do not want them if he comes to me. I will not be your go-between. But Skor, as your friend, I have to ask, are you happy?"
Skor looked at him sharply.
"You need connection so much more than he does." Runaan met his gaze. "Are you certain you're happy with the distance he keeps?"
His friend blinked at him and then looked back at the tent, then at the forest. "You know me well, but he knows me better," Skor replied carefully. "You are right that I need connection, but I have enough. He gives me the space to be who I am now. Yes, I am happy."
"Even with the distance he keeps from you?"
Skor closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "He is afraid of leaving someone to grieve. I am afraid of leaving someone I love. We aren't . . . We both need time to change, before we can be more than this, Runaan."
"You are already more than just friends, Skor. We all see it in how you care for each other."
"I know." Skor said, a bit sadly. "But committing is too dangerous for us both. We aren't you, Runaan, or Andromeda."
It was somewhat true that he and Andromeda were the odd ones out. Most assassins married within the guild, fought and died together, or remained unmated until they had left it. The problem was that Runaan knew how dedicated both Skor and Callisto were to the guild, and knew in his sinking heart that neither would ever leave it. "Will you wait forever for him?" he asked softly. "If you had a chance to retire, to have the family you wanted when you were young-"
"That chance is long gone, Runaan. I lost that dream when I was sixteen." Skor cut him off with a gesture, and touched his unmarked throat meaningfully. "Even if I left, had children, I would never be able to speak to them, tell them stories, sing them songs, the way I wanted to back then."
"A voice is not a requirement for fatherhood, Skor."
"No. But it was part of that dream. My hopes have changed, Runaan. Callisto is worth waiting for. If they are never ready, I will be all right, so long as I have them close to my heart." He touched the braid that Runaan knew Callisto had placed in his hair. "Maybe one day, my friend. But not yet. We aren't ready."
Runaan watched his face for a moment, seeing only sincerity, a bit of thoughtfulness, and sighed slowly. "I will not pry further. But things have not changed between you for nearly ten years, Skor. I truly hope you both find peace within yourselves, because watching you is beginning to be painful for me."
Skor smirked at him broadly. "Now you know how everyone else felt when Ethari moved to the Silvergrove."
Runaan rolled his eyes, but Skor wasn't done.
"And how Rayla feels whenever he shows to the training grounds with a new scar on his jaw from your horns."
"Yes, yes." Runaan's cheeks turned faintly pink under his tattoos and he cleared his throat. "I take your point."
"Not as much as you take -"
"I'm not listening to this anymore." Runaan pointedly looked away before Skor finished the sentence, and stood up from the branch. "I just wanted to check on you and this is how you betray me."
When he looked back down, Skor's smile was a little more sincere. "Thank you, my friend. I am all right, I promise."
"Good. Will you wake him for his turn on watch?"
"What do you take me for?"
"A man very much in love." Runaan replied bluntly, and his heart ached at how Skor's smile faded a little and he looked away. "Wake me early for mine, if you insist on letting him sleep. Do not exhaust yourself for him."
Skor nodded. "I will wake you."
"Good night, Skor. Moon watch over you."
Skor replied with an old, traditional sign that meant Moon watch over us all, and Runaan dropped down from the branch to return to his tent. While it comforted him that Skor seemed genuinely content with how things were, he still wished for a resolve to this dance his friends had been doing. They seemed all right, but it hadn't escaped his notice that Skor never said he was happy. Callisto never did, either.
He couldn't force them into it, though. He just hoped providing what little counsel he could would be enough.
So uh I did the first bit of this chapter with the elves in a day, hit a block, came back, considered leaving it with just them but didn't like how short it was so I came back to add what was Meant to be a fairly brief section with Corvus and Gren. And then their part ended up being a full chapter length on their own. So, have fun. Skor and Callisto are in dire straits but alive. Gren breaks down a bit, but he and Corvus come out of it stronger.
Callisto hadn't really expected to wake up, after the horn-rattling impact they had made against the wall and the glow of magic shooting towards them while they were stunned. Skor's new moon spells were making the whole hallway visually confusing anyway, and the last thought they'd had was hoping he fared better. That he might even escape.
A stinging cheek and a sneer of "Good, you're awake." was not on their list of expectations.
They blinked their eyes open unwillingly though their lids felt like sandpaper, and recoiled instinctively from the dark mage's touch. An attempt to move their right hand revealed it was bound tightly against their chest with their broken arm, immobilized. Their head still ached, their back hurt, and one leg was suspiciously numb under their slumped position. Casting their gaze about desperately they froze as they spotted Skor.
He was still out cold, on his side rather than propped up as they were. His braid had been cut free and hung beside his face with his bangs now, stained pink with blood - a smear, not as though his head were bleeding, thank the Moon. His hands were hidden behind his back, presumably bound like theirs were, his armor torn in places. The part that made them sick to their stomach was the way his scars looked fresh, as though they were all but half-healed despite being years, some decades old.
He was breathing, at least.
Crucially, also, they weren't in the dungeons. Callisto's breath came harsh as they realized they were in the mage's office, the one from higher in the castle, the one that contained the -
"Lucid enough to talk now?" The mage asked coldly, looming in their vision.
They bared their fangs at him spitefully.
"Before we go down to the workshop where you'll be spending the rest of your miserable life, until I decide what other uses I have for you, you're going to answer some questions for me." The mage sneered.
Callisto snorted and didn't dignify that with a response. Their eyes drifted sideways again, anxiously, too well-trained to let their ears flatten even with the fear lacing their veins. Skor was stirring. He must have been knocked out not much after they were.
"Let me make that a little clearer for you." The mage stalked over next to Skor and gestured pointedly down at him. "You're going to answer me, or your friend is going to pay the price for it. I would much rather just deal with you directly, but your kind have proven . . . difficult to break in the past, until their partners are threatened."
Though Callisto's heart felt stabbed with ice by the threat it never crossed their mind to do anything but sneer back at the mage. Skor was an assassin, too. They had made the same oaths. "We are already dead."
"You don't look dead." Viren countered mildly. "And I assure you, he isn't either."
They glared at him in hateful silence as Skor slowly blinked his eyes open and shifted at the mage's feet. His bound hands visibly gave him pause.
"But I've heard of this," Viren went on, stroking his own beard. "A Moonshadow philosophy of accepting that one is already dead, so that you don't fear death. You've given me an interesting challenge. How to find a fate worse than death?"
With a pointed look back down at Skor, his voice dropped as he asked Callisto, "Your own life is one thing. Are you prepared to sacrifice his?"
"We made that choice a long time ago." Callisto sneered back at him.
"Did you?" Viren asked, still infuriatingly mild, and raised his eyebrows as if in genuine surprise. "Does he know you feel that way? Because he seems to hold far greater loyalty to you. He faltered trying to save you, you know."
They hadn't.
Skor had frozen, too, at the reveal, and he didn't meet their eyes when they looked at him for some trace of the truth, and it sank in their heart like a heavy ball of ice. Fear that had stalked them for far longer than they'd known this mage's name roared up the back of their mind like a plague and they knew their breath was coming quicker in the sudden panic. Anger, too, irrational but there nonetheless, because -
Callisto had spent so much of their life remaining carefully distant, content with their dark work and the relationships they formed on the basis of knowing they would lose each other violently. Skor had been someone they trusted because he lived by the same oaths, so it was okay to love him. Because he understood their position - because he shared it.
And now, he had made a mistake that could prove fatal to both of them because he had broken those oaths. He had not only crossed a line he had done it where this mage could see, could use it against them!
The mage moved on, apparently deeming those precious seconds long enough to process that information. "First and foremost, this." He pulled the cover off of the mirror and Callisto felt ice in their veins as they stiffened. "I want you to tell me what this is."
"No," They hissed.
"No?" Viren echoed, arching his brows curiously. "Fascinating, that's not nothing." He hardened a glare at them through steel-grey eyes with something darker behind them and they hissed, recoiling in their bindings. He took a step toward them. "Of all the things in the Storm Spire, the dragons kept this close to where they slept. They wouldn't do that for something that wasn't important. So tell me what it does."
When he took another step toward Callisto Skor broke. He had promised to get home alive - to bring them both back alive - he wouldn't let Callisto die for this. "You're playin' with something you don't understand," He said harshly to the mage, desperate to draw his attention back from Callisto.
He'd seen how they hit the ground. He would never forget the moment. The way that left leg was sitting - it was dislocated, they probably couldn't feel it yet past the terror. But it meant even with their legs unbound they couldn't run.
Viren turned back to him with a look of nasty satisfaction. "What is it?"
"Skor, don't," Callisto begged.
He didn't look at them, instead meeting the mage's gaze. "If you're lookin' for a fate worse than death, you've found it," He rasped. "Take this as a warning, not a victory, fakir. Leave the glass where it stands. You're in as much danger as we are from that thing."
"I didn't ask for your opinions." The mage dismissed the warning after only a moment, and whatever brief hope Skor had held when he was quiet died in his chest. "I asked you for what it is - but if you're not willing to tell me, you've at least given me enough to have a few new ideas. Now it's time for you to go rest in your new home until I decide what to do with you next."
They weren't given time to ask what that meant before another black spell had put them right back to a deathly cold sleep.
When Skor woke up, Callisto was once again already awake. They were in the cells of Viren's workshop, just out of sight of the awful shelves full of dead things. A faint smell of Gren lingered, and Skor scowled as he realized they had been led in circles earlier by the death magic. They were separated by a lattice of metal bars so thick they were more like panels, each chained to the wall in the back.
They were alone, though. There was no sound to indicate Viren was around; he had apparently abandoned them down here to go about his business. Skor's hands were wrapped in cloth, held in fists so he couldn't draw his runes. It was a crude attempt to restrict his magic; a more powerful mage wouldn't even be slowed by it, but Skor was talented more than powerful. To his relief, Callisto's leg seemed to be sitting properly again, and their hands were simply cuffed, not wrapped as his were. They were still in one piece.
Seeing him look them over, Callisto gave him an unreadable look. "You hesitated." They accused.
He knew what they meant right away, grimacing as he tried to sit up further and winced as the chains wrapped around him shifted, clinking unpleasantly, and he aggravated his wounds. "I did."
Their horns thudded back on the stone wall tiredly. "Why?" They asked, in a defeated sort of tone.
Skor's heart ached and he found himself leaning on the bars that separated them. "You know why."
"We took oaths-"
"And this wasn't part of them," Skor cut them off roughly. "This isn't a mission, Callisto. We're meant to survive, one way or another."
"And at least you would have if you hadn't hesitated." They retorted.
Skor closed his eyes and shook his head softly, the braid they had given him falling loose - his heart hurt seeing it, feeling how disheveled it was. "I saw you fall," He rasped. "I knew ye couldn't run. So I tried to distract him."
Callisto's breath came harshly but their voice was steady and resigned when they answered. "You always were too soft for your own good."
Quiet enveloped their cells for a minute and Skor tried and failed to twitch his fingers in his bindings. He didn't open his eyes. A faint smell of salt made his heart hurt, aware Callisto was - perhaps not weeping fully but had at least teared up in the other cell. "I'm sorry."
He was, was the thing. Not for hesitating, not for trying to save them. For how much he had hurt them by doing so. The reason they let him in was trusting him to have their back - trusting that he could let them go, when the time came. That he wouldn't be broken by losing them like they had been broken.
He didn't regret it. This wasn't a mission they were meant to die on - and he would have tried to help even if it was, he couldn't let his friends fall if he could stop it. Callisto wasn't an exception or a special case in that.
"I just . . ." Callisto trailed off.
They weren't ready.
Maybe one day - if they survived this . . . Callisto had grown more open in the last few years, to the point of cuddling him through cold winter nights and braiding his hair on occasion. Maybe one day they would be ready to let their love be spoken.
"This isn't the time." He admitted roughly, finally opening his eyes to lean his own head back against the wall. "If the mage discovers anythin' more than he's already seen, we're fucked."
Callisto gave an ugly, humorless laugh. "I think we're already fucked."
"It can always get worse," Skor replied dryly, and could have sighed with relief when Callisto shifted so he could feel their warmth through the bars, though they couldn't quite touch with their hands bound up. They'd forgiven him, so at least there was that.
Now all they could do was wait, and worry, and pray Skor's warning had, if not penetrated, at least not given the mage any useful new ideas.
Gren and Corvus had made good time away from the castle. With Viren occupied, they had been able to stop in the stables to fetch Gren's horse and one of the Crownguard mounts, the two of them speeding away much faster than they could have done on foot. Corvus had updated Gren as they fled, starting with the details the princes, elves, and Soren had revealed about the night of the king's death. They stopped at the Banther Lodge to rest, after Corvus had gotten his friend up to speed. Gren's hands were shaking violently on his reins, obviously strained by the week or more they'd been suspended above him, and Corvus refused to let him push farther.
He took care of both of their horses as well, pushing Gren away gently when the man struggled with some of the buckles on his tack. "Go try to get out of that plate." He said, furrowing his brows with concern.
Fortunately for them all, Gren wasn't as stubborn as Amaya, and his shoulders dropped immediately, just taking a deep breath and nodding. "Okay. Thank you, Corvus."
Corvus just nodded, watching just long enough to make sure he left before returning to their horses. It didn't take that much longer to get both settled in stalls with a bit of grain and hay for their service. He wiped down their tack as well, though he didn't take the time to do a full cleaning on them.
To his surprise, Gren still hadn't gotten through all his armor when he returned inside. He found the man sitting on a red settee in the den of the Lodge, arms laid across his lap, flexing his fingers with his head bowed over them. Corvus caught himself moving faster at the sign of distress, and -
Well.
He'd spent four days traveling with two people in a very similar position to his and Gren's. Accomplished warriors who worked for a powerful leader, with dangerous jobs. Callisto was just as reserved as Corvus himself, and yet they never hesitated to lean on their partner nor to offer Skor help when he needed it.
"Hey." He announced himself with a soft call, unable after all these years to stop walking softly, and Gren jerked his eyes up to meet him. "Do you need help?"
"It would be easier." Gren admitted, sitting up properly on the settee with a wince. "It's not bad, I've just worked my arms really hard riding like that after being locked up for over a week."
Over a week? Corvus frowned, kneeling in front of his friend to help remove his greaves. "What happened after you and Amaya made it back to Katolis?"
Gren gave a humorless chuckle and resumed pulling at the catches on his breastplate. His pauldrons already lay on the settee beside him, along with a few other pieces that were easier to reach without stretching his arms. "I feel stupid, honestly. Amaya warned me not to trust him, but I thought, there's no way he'd be stupid enough to do something to me openly, right? He sent me away with Soren. I shouldn't have gone with him."
Corvus shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, well aware with how powerful a fighter Soren was. "So he got you alone with the Captain of the Crownguard, unarmed."
Gren grimaced. "I know I should have been more careful. Once we were out of sight Soren had me in chains before I could think what to do - how was I going to fight him, I don't carry a sword. I know this is why Amaya keeps telling me to carry some kind of weapon, I know. But of all the places I should have been fine without one . . ."
"The palace of your own kingdom should have been one," Corvus agreed quietly when he trailed off, setting the greaves aside and going up on his knees to help with the breastplate. It placed him between Gren's parted legs, but when he glanced up, Gren didn't seem uncomfortable with the proximity, so he focused on his task.
"After that it was just the dungeon, and that was worse." Gren swallowed hard, eventually giving up and letting Corvus strip him of what was left of his plate. He wasn't the sort that looked overly smaller with his armor gone, instead the lack just revealing a softer body that owed its tone to strenuous training. He did look more vulnerable without it though, with the padding under the plate showing. "No one ever came in but Viren. I - it almost reminded me of going home from university in the summers, after I decided to pursue a field position instead of remaining a diplomat like my father. The taunting was bad, but at least when he came I had something to focus on. The worst of it was the silence - which sounds stupid, because of course I had the servants to talk to when I was home from university, and Amaya lives with complete silence every day, but -"
"But she doesn't," Corvus cut him off softly, sitting back on his heels but putting a hand on Gren's knee to comfort him, brows drawing up as he saw Gren's eyes growing wet. "She can't hear like we can but she's not alone." Catching one of Gren's shaking hands, he gently steadied it, curling Gren's fingers carefully and holding his hand up. "You make sure of it."
Gren blinked and the tears overwhelmed his eyes, leaking out despite himself, and he closed them again with a shaky, gasping breath as he tried not to cry. "I know. I guess - you're right. I just - it was so quiet, and all I could hear were the rats and even they wouldn't come in the room, and then Viren would and it was the same dismissal every time. It would have been easier if he'd sneered or tried to talk to me but he didn't, he just commented so mildly on my attitude and then kept walking, like I'm just a footnote, the same nothing to him that I am at home, and I . . ." He broke off with a grimace, wiping at his face with his free hand, clutching Corvus' hand with the other. "It hurt so much more than it should have, when I knew how awful he was already."
Corvus took a chance and rose up a little more to hug him. Gren paused for only a second as if surprised and then wrapped his arms around, burying his face in Corvus' shoulder and shuddering, curled into the hug as his shoulders shook. Corvus turned his head to speak softly into his ear. "It's okay to cry. We're safe for now."
Gren clutched him tighter and he gave a ragged breath that was probably the tears coming. Corvus rubbed his back and hummed.
After he got his thoughts in order, he replied to Gren's actual worries. "You didn't know. You knew he was a dick, not a murderer."
"He did hit me once," Gren said with a wet laugh. "When Amaya was still there. She'd made him angry, so he hit me instead of her."
Corvus gripped him tighter, rage coiling through his gut at the reveal, but he took a slow breath and focused on Gren for now. Gren's arms loosened and he sat back, keeping a hand on his friend's shoulder and looking him in the eyes. "You know they're wrong," He said softly, squeezing the muscled shoulder under his hand. "Everyone who's ever made you feel that way. They're wrong. Your parents, Viren - they're just power-hungry assholes who can't stand the fact that you're nothing like them."
Gren gave a wet laugh and rubbed his face, wiping his tears away. His smile was weak. "Thank you, Corvus. I . . . I know. It's easier with you around." He glanced down at the hand on his shoulder, something like awe flickering over his features.
"You looked like you needed a hug," Corvus said awkwardly, loosening his grip. "You . . . kind of look like you still do."
That weak little smile turned more genuine, Gren's eyes soft when they looked back up at Corvus' face. "I could use one," The soldier admitted. "But I know you're not big on physical contact, if you don't . . ."
Corvus didn't wait for him to finish, just pushing in to hug him again, letting Gren pull him in tighter this time. Unsatisfied with the distance enforced by Gren's shed armor on the settee and their legs, Corvus threw a leg over Gren's lap without really thinking about it, focused on how it would get their bodies in better alignment for Gren to just hide in his chest. It was only after he settled with Gren curled into him and the soldier's arms wrapped carefully around his waist that he realized their position was somewhat compromising.
He decided not to overthink it, settling his arms around Gren's broad shoulders and rubbing little circles into his back comfortingly. "Wouldn't offer if I didn't want to." He said, a little belatedly.
Gren snorted into his chest. His arms tightened around Corvus' waist. "I'm not sure if I'm glad it was you or if I hate that you had to see me like that. Like this." He admitted without raising his head.
Corvus found himself reaching up to draw his fingers through orange hair, scratching his scalp the way his mother had done when he was little and his curls were short, and he was overwhelmed by the everything around him. "I know you," He said after a minute, feeling Gren relax under his touch. "It's not the first time I've seen you cry. You don't have to put on the cheerful face with me if you don't feel it."
"I've always loved that about you." Gren confessed, his hands shifting on Corvus' back, leaning his head back into Corvus' hand, as if his words didn't make something in Corvus' heart and gut jump. "Thank you."
Gren loved people so easily, with so few reservations despite how his birth family had abused his forgiveness. He loved Corvus, he loved Amaya, he loved their soldiers and the princes and the king, he loved his job and his country and his family in spite of everything. The word didn't carry any pressure from him.
Corvus rarely returned the sentiment aloud, more reserved by nature. He tried to show it instead, baking for Gren's birthday just as he did for Amaya's, giving the man space to be weak, to break down when everyone else needed him to be cheerful and strong. As he grew older the feelings had shifted, and he'd been trying to work out what they meant.
Traveling with Callisto and Skor made things so terribly obvious.
"I love you, too." Corvus murmured, like a confession, over Gren's shoulder, and forced himself to be still and look back when Gren raised his head to look him in the eyes.
Blue eyes searched his darker ones and Gren's thumbs pressed gently into the small of his back. He smiled faintly. "Catching up with me, are you?"
Corvus snorted, having nearly forgotten - or rather hardly thought about - the conversation they'd had almost a year ago about Gren's new habit of staring at him. They had done the last of their growing up together, Corvus growing up a bit too young and Gren doing it late, seventeen and twenty-one when they met; four years a gap that closed quickly as they were in the same stage of life. Gren had never pressed, but he'd been open about liking what he saw, liking how they felt together, when Corvus asked. He'd been content to let it be with Corvus not reciprocating - unsure of himself - and hadn't placed his life on hold to wait.
It hadn't escaped Corvus' notice that what little dating Gren did around his job had all but halted, though.
"You know me," He replied softly, his own eyes dropping from Gren's sky blues to the front of his uniform shirt over that thick chest. "Need at least a year of processing before I commit to anything."
Gren chuckled. "That or a little push," He agreed, pressing firmer into Corvus' back, as if emboldened by the admission, but his smile faded, his brows drawing up, after a moment. "So what pushed you?"
The meaning of the braid in Skor's hair, revealed softly by Runaan with a knowing look in piercing teal eyes. The comfort the duo took in sharing a tent, Callisto's broken arm tucked carefully between them. Skor's hand trailing over his partner's horns and hair and the way Callisto allowed the touch when they bared their fangs at most getting too close. The sootheberries Callisto kept in their pack for Skor's voice. The way they moved without needing words, just as he and Gren did, in perfect sync everywhere from the battlefield to bed. Their comfortable banter, like his and Gren's, mixing words with signs, speaking for each other. The contrast of Skor's wounded quiet but softer heart and Callisto's sharp tongue and guarded soul, the way they supported and softened and strengthened each other.
"Callisto and Skor," He admitted. "Seeing them together. They reminded me of us. I realized I didn't want to make you wait anymore."
Gren's eyebrows had raised a bit when he said the names, but he softened at the rest of the statement. "They're together?"
Insisting on sharing the room at the Moon Nexus, attached at the hip everywhere they went, fussing over each other, the intimacy they permitted only from each other - "From what I understand. I didn't ask too much, Callisto likes their privacy, but it seems obvious even to me."
Gren cracked a smile at that, both of them well aware that Corvus often struggled with picking up on social cues, especially among the nobility Gren hailed from. "I hope they're both okay." The soldier said, quiet, sympathetic.
"Me, too." Corvus said, wincing. Skor had told him to run, doing the same thing as he had done to the elf at the Nexus. He had obeyed, recognizing the favor, knowing Skor was right, but still -
Skor was taking a much bigger risk than he had by staying. He'd been fairly confident Soren and Claudia wouldn't kill him. He had no such confidence in Viren's mercy on a pair of Moonshadow elves.
Especially with the bits Gren had gleaned from the dungeon, revealed on the ride here as Corvus told his story. Viren summoning the Pentarchy, failing to gain their aid for something - this was almost certainly a power grab, and knowing that the elves had never entered but any vantage point that could see the king's tower had been killed but only Viren had entered the room - it all just lined up too well. The mage had turned on his so-called best friend, just as Amaya suspected he had turned on her sister nine years ago.
Gren suddenly gave a helpless-sounding laugh and dropped his head to Corvus' chest again. "Amaya's going to be furious about everything except us," He said, audibly smiling, tone a bit too amused and affectionate to be wry but trying for it. "She'll love us, though. The two of us getting together."
Corvus couldn't help the smile breaking across his own face, too. "Oh, stars, she'll be more excited than we are."
"Yep." Gren popped the end of the word and they both chuckled, hugging each other tight. Corvus felt the tremble in his friend's aching arms and pulled away after a moment.
"You need rest," He said firmly. "Let me take care of your armor, go find a bed."
Gren smiled indulgently at him, eyes soft. "Yes, sir," He teased gently, giving Corvus' waist a last squeeze before fully picking him up and setting him on the seat beside his position to stand up.
Corvus sputtered. "I said rest!" He batted at the redhead, heat rushing to his face, abruptly grateful his beard would cover whatever visible blush he had. "Go! I know that hurt your arms, you - you clotpole!"
Gren fully belly laughed at the insult, his teeth flashing in a grin so wide his eyes closed with it. "I just wanted to know if I could," He defended himself playfully, and Corvus swatted him again for it.
"Go rest your arms, you idiot," He said, unwillingly affectionate over the soldier's antics.
"Hey, if I can do it now, imagine what I can do when I'm back to normal, right?" Gren smirked. It was an expression that should have looked like Amaya, given how rarely he smirked on his own, but somehow his whole face changed when he was speaking for himself, and Corvus just felt flustered by the tease.
He didn't know how to respond and instead just shooed his - friend? Boyfriend? His partner - towards the stairs. "Bed," He ordered firmly.
"Good night, Gren. I'll be around somewhere if you need me." He didn't know why he was promising it, but it made Gren smile, so he didn't overthink it, just focusing on gathering Gren's plate. He took the time to clean it before storing it away properly in the Lodge's limited armory, and it was late at night by the time he found the room beside Gren's and opened the window to get some familiar fresh air before crawling into the bed.
At least with the horses it wouldn't take them long to reach the border. He couldn't do anything more for Callisto and Skor but carry out their mission ahead. Right now, that meant getting to Amaya and telling her the truth - all of it - and hoping her prejudices didn't blind her to it all even with his and Gren's confirmation.
You think that because Callisto's arm is broken, Skor might have to help him bathe? 👀 (oh noes, how terrible)
You're an awful, terrible influence. How dare you distract me with a concept like this when I'm trying to write Corvus being horribly confused and set up for the trip to town and then the Moon Nexus.
Yes probably. Runaan offered to help just to make Skor bare his teeth at him and acknowledge he's got territorial issues. Callisto, being a dumbass, just kind of blinked at them both and assured Skor they'd like his help anyways, and then regretted it when this "help" included: Skor kneeling in front of them to wash their legs, Skor looming behind them to help with their shoulders, a warm hand in what little hair they haven't shaved, the Entire length 😏 of his body pressed up against their side to support them enough to clean their private areas, fingers around the base of their horns, and a strong set of hands literally just picking them up under the arms to put them back on the bank of the river when they were done. Their imagination is going to go wild with those memories and they fucking know it. Skor does too, and he's equally suffering with feeling all of that under his hands and across his entire front, how soft and pliable they went under his ministrations . . . and also Ram needs to stop looking in Callisto's general direction or he might snap his teeth.
Runaan is just sighing under his breath and wondering if they'll ever actually break this damn sexual tension and give everyone else a breather.
debating a future plot decision a little early. So when Corvus decides to stay in Katolis to advance the plot, I'm considering having Callisto and Skor stay with him. The argument being that he shouldn't go back into what very well could be enemy territory for anyone loyal to Ezran alone. That would mean more elves interacting with the other humans in this plot, but it could also get complicated with Skor and Amaya. On the other hand - it would get two living elves back into Viren's reach just in time for that whole plotline where he uses their spirits to attack the other kingdoms in canon. Something could certainly be done with that, which would avoid Skor confronting Amaya until previously planned, and properly advance that particular political plot with the other kingdoms, which I haven't figured out how I'm going to do otherwise.
No decisions have been made yet, it's just something I'm rolling around in my head. Anyone have thoughts on it?
Different Path Taken Ch.22 P3 (actually 2 in chronological order)
Sooo @no-cinnamon-for-synonym gave me an extra plot bunny for this chapter so this scene takes place between the previous two scenes I posted, after the nighttime scene with Runaan and Rayla but before Corvus wakes up the next morning. It'll be posted in chronological order in the AO3 chapter.
Skor woke up first. He usually did when he had someone else in bed with him, though it wasn’t always, when that someone was Callisto. Their broken arm was dragging their energy down, though, and they hadn’t been up before him since it happened unless summoned by a watch.
He didn’t move for a minute, just watching them sleep. Callisto wasn’t much of a cuddler, for an elf, less so with their arm out of commission, and they weren’t quite touching but for their calves pressed together under the blankets. Their broken arm was cradled protectively against their chest and their face was pushed into the pillows. Their shaven hair made them look less rumpled but Skor’s heart ached with fondness from the wrinkles pressed into their skin from sleeping like this.
He hadn’t been lying to Runaan, was the thing. This was enough. Having Callisto trust him so much, to curl up into bed with him instead of alone, trusting him to keep watch over their wounded rest and fussing over him to let his ankle heal, this was enough. He loved them, pure and simple, and all he wanted was to keep them close.
The life he would have had . . . his other dreams . . . he had given them up so long ago to follow the path that had been left to him. After his voice had been taken, and the rest of his pride lost in the caves where Runaan had been forced to leave them, this duty was all he had. He counted himself lucky to have found love and life and a purpose in it through all he had lost.
When Callisto first joined the assassins, young and grim and battered before ever leaving Moonshadow Forest, committing so wholly to the guild that had destroyed him, he hadn’t expected them to live long. Their skills had rocketed them up to Runaan’s training group, though, and getting to know them had changed so much. They were committed for the same reason he was - not because they had nothing left to lose, though that was true, but to make sure no one else suffered the same fate.
Despite himself, discomfort crept through his muscles at being still for too long and Skor stretched, slow and languid, hoping it wouldn’t wake Callisto. He had no such luck, and pretty orange eyes blinked open at him as he resettled, surprisingly alert for having just awoken. They yawned a moment later, sharp fangs glinting in the morning light, and looked a little sleepier when their mouth closed.
“Good morning,” They murmured with a twitch of their ears, the same fondness he felt reflected back in their eyes.
Skor took the chance to lean over and brush his hand over their temple, and their shoulder, scent marking them a bit brazenly. Callisto just arched into the motion like a shadowpaw, their near-silent purr vibrating under his touch. “Good morning.” Skor rasped in return, and winced at the sound of his own voice, sitting up enough to reach for the moonberry juice on the nightstand.
It was Callisto’s bottle that his hand found first, but the other elf didn’t comment when he sipped from it. They just stretched in place with what limbs they could, making a distasteful look at the splint he’d applied to their arm as soon as possible the night before, and stretched out on their back, horns propping their head up. “You haven’t gotten up and tried walking yet, have you?” They asked.
Their fervent warnings the night before echoed in his mind and Skor chuckled in spite of himself. “No. I was told very strongly by an excellent healer that I should stay off my ankle if I can today, give it time to heal before we travel.”
“They sound like they know what they’re doing.” Callisto smirked broadly up at him when he looked down, and he grinned back, leaning back on one hand to loom over their supine body in the bed.
Something in Callisto’s eyes went hooded at the positioning and Skor didn’t hide from it, just taking his spare hand to touch their jaw, cupping their chin to guide their eyes to his. “You do.” He assured them softly, and they took his hand in their good one, lacing their fingers together.
Callisto rested their forehead on their joined hands. “Thank you. And thank you for takin’ care of me, too.” They shifted their splinted arm to demonstrate.
“Of course.” Skor rumbled, and would have said more, but now that he was sitting up, his age caught up to him and he grimaced. “Am I allowed outside to take a piss?”
Callisto laughed out loud. “I think you’ll manage not t’break your ankle fully doin’ that, old man. I’ll get us a bowl together for breakfast in the meantime. There’s a reason I picked us the house without stairs.”
Something about the domesticity of implying the house was theirs, despite the human asleep in the next room - Skor’s heart was warmed despite the reminder of the company. He grinned as he slid out of the bed, ankle twinging under his weight. “Thank you, Callisto.”
Between Callisto and Skor’s yearning and Andromeda’s suspicious lack of sex marks and Runaan and Ethari *constantly* showing up with new sex marks I feel Ram must be in hell sometimes lmao. Everybody is either having relationship problems or shoving it in his face that they have NO relationship problems whatsoever. No wonder he and Rayla get catty together lol
Oh yeah, these idiots drive Ram up a wall. He's just like "am I the only Normal Fucking Person in this team" and the others are all like "yes." except Rayla, who just sidles up to him like nah I'm with you bro.
And then she ends up dating a human and he's gonna lose his poor little mind. Why are they all so complicated. One day he's going to find some nice girl and just settle down and have a perfectly normal Moonshadow life, tyvm.
(wouldn't it be funny if he ended up finding a girl who also wasn't Moonshadow though, and then had to eat his words)
