Chapter Text
The human was singing. He was chained in this dungeon, same as Runaan, and yet he had the indecency to sing as if he were at the fair. It was some silly human ditty about a cow and two geese, a children’s lullaby, no doubt, unless adult humans were interested in such ridiculous excuses for a song. Runaan gritted his teeth, both against the pain radiating up his arm and that insufferable caterwauling. He had been quiet so far. Patiently waiting for death. There was no need to ever interact with the human, no matter how annoying his incomprehensible cheerfulness was. But everyone reached a breaking point. Between the band constricting his bicep, the ache shooting down his back from being chained with his arms up for days, and the hunger growling in his stomach, human singing was one agony too much.
“Stop that!” he growled.
The human instantly shut up. Runaan sighed in relief. Merciful silence. Finally.
“Excuse me?” the human asked, offense dripping in his voice. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”
“Yes. Now do it.”
“I don’t take orders from an elf, especially not the scum that killed my king.”
Runaan huffed. He didn’t reply. Why would he want to encourage him? But the human started singing again, this time belting it out so his voice echoed off the walls. Runaan groaned, biting his lip so it wouldn’t rise above a murmur. Of all the insufferable…
“Would you stop doing that! Why are you even singing in a dungeon? Just. Shut. Up.”
“I. Will. Not. And I’m singing because I’m not going to mope just because I’m stuck here. This is a temporary situation. The general will find out I’m here and get me out. Unlike you, who will die in here.”
Runaan’s eyes fell shut. Ethari’s beseeching face by the lotus pond flashed in his mind.
My heart goes out with this one, he’d said as he handed Runaan the enchanted flower, eyes shiny with unshed tears and dread that this would be the last time he saw his husband.
Forgive me, Ethari.
“Your king killed the king of the dragons,” Runaan said. “His death was justice.”
“It was murder, assassin.”
Runaan had heard his vocation spit out at him in such a disgusted tone many times before, as if hearing it aloud would insult him. He knew what he was. He had chosen this life. He did what had to be done, no more or less.
“So was the dragon king’s death.”
“So you taking vengeance for his death is justice, but King Harrow taking vengeance for Queen Sarai is murder?”
“Your queen wouldn’t have died if she and the rest of you hadn’t invaded Xadia to kill a magma titan.”
The human was silent.
“No defense, human? You can’t talk your way out of that being murder.”
“I didn’t agree with that incursion,” the human said grudgingly. “Neither did the queen, from what I heard.”
“Then she shouldn’t have gone.”
Silence fell. Runaan exhaled a long, weary breath, then winced as he inadvertently shifted, rattling his encased arm. The band was a firm vice around his limb, digging deep into his flesh, turning his skin purple all the way up to his hand. It pulsed with pain every moment he was awake, often waking him when he managed to slumber. Rayla was suffering the same fate, except that she would only lose her hand, not her entire arm. Unless she did her job and killed Prince Ezran.
The dragon prince lived. There was no doubt about whose egg the boy was holding. Ezran’s death was decreed in exchange for that of the dragon prince. With the human prince alive…
It didn’t matter. When an assassin was assigned a task, they fulfilled it. Unless their orders changed, but the dragon queen was too far away to consult.
But it was a life for a life. King Harrow for King Avizandum. Prince Ezran for Prince Azymondias.
Who would probably arrive safely in Xadia.
Runaan should have listened to Ethari. Rayla lacked the conviction that was necessary to kill. Her talent was of another sort. He’d turned over their last encounter in his mind dozens of times while stuck in this cell, remorse clawing at him every time. He would never have killed her. Of course not. That had been an idle threat. He’d just wanted to convince her to stand down.
Rayla was right. With the dragon prince alive, Ezran’s death wouldn’t be justice. It’d be murder. And she’d lose her hand for it.
“What did you expect would happen, will happen, after you killed King Harrow?”
The human’s voice startled him. Weren’t they done? What was the point in conversing further?
“Politics are not my concern,” Runaan said.
“Oh, no. Of course not. Killing a king and kidnapping his children isn’t political at all.”
Kidnapping?
“I didn’t kidnap anyone.”
“Your subordinate did. Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”
Of course that’s what they’d think had happened.
“She didn’t kidnap them. They went with her of their own free will.”
“Like hell. Why would they do that?”
Runaan was silent. If this human didn’t know that the dragon prince was alive, Runaan wasn’t about to give away the secret. He shifted from kneeling to sitting, stretching out his legs, every joint protesting the long enforced position. The motion jarred his arm, stabbing him with a flare of sharp pain. He bit his lip, swallowing his wince. He wasn’t going to give the human the satisfaction. The silence stretched on with nothing but Runaan’s thready, panting breaths to mark it, but Runaan didn’t hold out hope that the human would grant him the mercy of not pestering him further.
“Even if they weren’t kidnapped,” the human said. Runaan groaned. “Why would they? They must have had a good reason. You know why. If you know they went willingly, then you know why. Tell me.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“It can’t have been part of your murder plot. It doesn’t make sense. Did she go rouge, your subordinate? I saw her. She’s young, too young to be an assassin, I’d think. Was this her first mission? Did she decide that murder isn’t her thing, after all?”
Runaan stayed silent.
“I knew there was something weird about it,” the human continued. “The princes didn’t seem scared of her. Prince Callum told us that she was a monster, but maybe it was for show. They had plenty of chances to run away from her, but they didn’t. When we cornered them, it looked like they were running with her and not by force. And the way that Prince Callum shouted ‘heavily armed human troops’ when we got to the lodge. He must have been warning her.”
The human seemed to be speaking to himself now. So they had gone to a lodge, had they? Likely owned by the king. Why would Rayla take them there? She should have known that they would be found. And the humans were protecting her? Why? Why hadn’t they betrayed her yet? They were bound to do so sooner or later. Rayla’s delusions about peace with humans were just that. Delusions. Humans were all deceitful, untrustworthy. The princes were no different just because they were children. Rayla had walked into their trap and there was nothing that Runaan could do about it.
“And they were so cagy. I thought they were just upset by the whole situation. And they were there alone. They should have never been there alone. But they weren’t alone, were they? They’re smart kids. They may have figured out why they were sent away from the castle so suddenly. And the Banther Lodge is, after all, the winter lodge. Which is why this makes even less sense. Look, I know you know, so spill it.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I have no reason to tell you anything.”
“You murdered their father. The least you can do is tell me why they felt compelled to flee their home, and why one of your people is helping them. Is it to keep them away from you?”
Runaan dropped his head against the wall. Protecting humans. How had Rayla’s judgment grown so flawed? Hadn’t he taught her better than this? Her turning her blades against him to cover their escape had wounded him deeper than she would ever know. How could she possibly have seen him as the enemy instead of them?
“You clearly don’t agree with them running off together,” the human continued. “So I’m going to take that as a yes. Well, I have no idea what her motivations are for not hurting the princes, but I’m glad she kept them safe from you, at least.”
Runaan wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. The human stayed quiet this time. Small mercy.
It didn’t last. Of course not. Why had Runaan bothered hoping that it would?
“I’m Gren, by the way. I don’t like talking to someone without introducing myself, even if they did just kill my king.”
“If you’re so disgusted by my existence, why are you talking to me at all?
“I’m not disgusted by your existence, just what you did. I don’t hate elves on principle. I’m not like that.”
“Aren’t all humans like that?”
“So you hate all humans just because?”
“I don’t hate you. You’re not worth the energy. I don’t trust you. You take what doesn’t belong to you and pretend to be entitled to it.”
“Are you referring to dark magic? You think we all do that?”
“It doesn’t matter. One human practicing that disgusting craft is too much, and your king employed two of them. Every human kingdom does. It doesn’t matter if you don’t practice it yourself. You aid and abet it.”
“It’s not like I have a say in who the king hires.”
“But you benefit from it. Did you reject the fruits that resulted from the heart of the magma titan your leaders murdered?”
The human paused.
“Yeah.”
His voice was low, unwilling to admit the depth of his complicity too loudly. He might even have sounded ashamed if humans were capable of the feeling.
“It doesn’t matter if you agreed with the killing or not. You’re still complicit.”
The human didn’t reply for a long time.
```````````````
“I’m sorry.”
The words roused Runaan from his slumber, his instincts alerting him to any voice in his vicinity even while asleep. He sounded out the words in his mind, frowning at what he thought he’d heard. Had the human just apologized? To who?
“Are you awake?” the human asked, raising his voice.
Was he apologizing to Runaan? He couldn’t be. That didn’t make sense.
The human sighed.
“I guess you’re asleep then,” he mumbled, barely audible.
Was he apologizing to Runaan? Was this a joke?
“What are you doing?” Runaan asked.
Chains jangled. He must have startled him.
“What do you mean? I’m apologizing.”
“Why? If you’re trying to lure me into a false sense of security by being nice, it won’t work.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“There’s no other reason for you to apologize to me.”
“You said I did. That I’m complicit in the killing of the titan by benefiting from it.”
“I didn’t ask you to apologize. I don’t need your guilt, even if it were genuine.”
“It is genuine. Look, I’m just trying to…” The human muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. “Let me start over. I’m sorry about what happened with the giant.”
“His murder.”
“Yes, his murder. Invading Xadia was not okay. I guess, when you really think about it, we are the ones who started this series of retaliations.”
“You’re only just realizing that now? Typical.”
“I’m still angry that you killed the king.”
“I don’t care.”
“What I’m trying to say is, continuing to kill each other over it isn’t going to get us anywhere. Lord Viren is trying to declare war against Xadia. I think he’s trying to bring in the rest of the Pentarchy in on it. So even more people will die. But it’s not just on us. The sunfire elves have been trying to infiltrate Katolis for months.”
“What the sunfire elves do has nothing to do with moonshadow elves.”
“I had a feeling you were going to say that. And yet, everything is connected. Are we really going to go to war over a blood feud?”
“Like you said, the humans started it. Mock apologies won’t change that.”
“It’s not… God, you’re harder to talk to than Viren. I mean it. I really am sorry. You know what, I think, maybe… I can’t be sure obviously, but I think that the princes and your subordinate may have decided to break the vicious cycle and make peace. They were headed toward Xadia. Maybe they’re going to see the dragon queen and try to fix things. I know Prince Callum doesn’t understand why we’re fighting each other. At least he said something like that once. I can’t think of any other reason why he and Prince Ezran… Wait, no, it’s King Ezran now. Anyway, I can’t think of why else they would go with an elf. This was her first mission, wasn’t it?”
Runaan sighed, his eyes slipping shut with bone deep weariness. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, making him dizzy and disoriented, lowering his guard. That was the only reason why he deigned to answer.
“Yes.”
“Aha! So, she couldn’t go through with it, realized that killing people for the sake of a blood vendetta is wrong, met the princes somehow, and they decided to try to make peace. That must be it. Although, it’s not that simple.” The human’s, Gren’s, voice dipped in frustration. “Everything seemed so much easier when we were kids, didn’t it? I miss being that age.”
Runaan rested his head against his right arm, riding out the nausea in his empty stomach by breathing slowly. What a strange human. He was right, though. Rayla wanted peace. If the human princes weren’t lying, they wanted it too, but it didn’t make sense. When had humans ever wanted peace with elves?
“Do you think I’m right?” Gren asked. “Could that be it?”
“Maybe.”
“Awesome. Wouldn’t that be something?”
Runaan huffed a laugh.
“You actually think that would work?”
“Probably not. But at least they’re doing something good, and it sounds like they’re not in danger, which is a load off.”
Great. The human was reassured. Could he please be quiet now?
“So what’s your name?” Gren asked.
Runaan didn’t reply.
“Okay, then,” Gren said. “You’re not comfortable giving me your name yet. I get it. Maybe later.”
Absolutely not.
``````````````
The mage drew his blood. Not enough to debilitate Runaan any more than he already was, but letting this vicious man use so much as a single drop for his foul practice made Runaan’s stomach churn with disgust. Viren’s words were condescending, eyes sneering, and his hands as hard as the manacles encasing Runaan’s wrists as they squeezed the blood out of his forehead as if Runaan were no more than a sponge to be drained dry. The feel of his skin on his own made Runaan want to vomit on his shoes and spit in his face. He might have been tempted if there were anything in his stomach to throw up. Viren relished the power he held over him, enjoying the wince that Runaan couldn’t bite down fast enough as he dug into Runaan’s flesh. Once again, the man dangled a plate of food and drink in front of him. Runaan refused to so much as look at it, even as his stomach rumbled, his hunger so acute that it was a living pain inside him.
Viren left after that. The instant the cell door closed behind him, Runaan sagged against the wall, biting back a scream of despair. Why, why hadn’t he fallen on his own sword after he’d shot off the arrow to the dragon queen? It could have been over. He hadn’t planned on dying in this mission, he had promised Ethari, but that didn’t matter. He was always prepared for death. But this lingering, drawn out mockery of life was unbearable. How much longer would Viren be content with letting him starve? He couldn’t use him as a living supply for his heinous excuse for magic if Runaan died.
Four moonshadow elves had fallen in the assault. Runaan’s colleagues. His friends. Ethari could be crying over their sunken lotuses right now. What had Viren done with their bodies? Harvested for parts, no doubt. Horns. Hair. Teeth. Fingernails. Skin. Bone.
Being dead, their magical essence was nowhere near as potent as Runaan’s, whose wretched heart persisted in beating. He wouldn’t be granted the mercy of dying properly until Viren had exploited him for all that he was worth. He was no more than a thing to him. This is why they had expelled humans from Xadia. To them, magical beings were things. Tools.
Tears pricked Runaan’s eyes. His breath hitched as they fell down his cheeks, unable to keep the sobs at bay anymore. He was so tired. His arm throbbed, the band so tight that it bit into his muscles like a burning brand.
Why did he have to send Rayla after that soldier? Why didn’t he listen to Ethari? He was usually right in the end. He knew Rayla better than Runaan did, clearly. She wasn’t cut out to be an assassin. Runaan had been so eager to teach her his craft, and she had been so willing, so enthusiastic. Her talent and skill were remarkable. But she wasn’t like him. She was like her parents. She defended, not attacked in the dark. She had actually appointed herself as those human princes’ personal bodyguard. Protecting humans against him, as if he were the unreasonable one.
A soft hum sounded down the corridor. Runaan gasped.
Gren was singing again. He must have heard everything. Sound carried so well in this wretched prison. Shame burned in Runaan’s gut. Cursing, he bit his bottom lip, hard, trying to control his breathing, but his panting breaths wouldn’t cease. Days of hunger and pain had dulled his discipline, leaving him a weakling, but he wouldn’t give the human the satisfaction of hearing him weep. Could he be granted at least that small dignity?
Gren continued to hum. It was no use. He heard. Of course he heard. And there was no point in telling him to stop. Runaan would just get drawn into another conversation and he had no patience for it. Sighing, he dropped his head against his good arm.
The song wasn’t a cheerful ditty this time. The tune was somber, muted. There were no lyrics. Gren just sounded it out in his throat. Despite the melancholy tone, it was strangely soothing, the sort of thing Runaan would have enjoyed back home. Not that he would admit that to the human. He shut his eyes. Taking the path of least resistance, he let the song distract him from the myriad pains assaulting his body and mind. When it ended, Gren began another, also soft and gentle. Could he be trying to comfort Runaan? If he was, it must be part of his scheme to get Runaan’s guard down. Runaan couldn’t trust him. Any moment now, Gren would try to strike up a conversation again, try to coax his name and information out of him.
But he didn’t. He simply continued to sing until Runaan drifted off into exhausted slumber.