Death Needs a Hug, Too

i colored this so many times

Elrond based on art by Magali Villeneuve

for ruthari week 

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince) Characters: Ethari (The Dragon Prince), Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Lain (The Dragon Prince), Tiadrin (The Dragon Prince) Additional Tags: its the coffeeshop au, that i always wanted, runaan is basically just an outlet for my coffee snobbery, ethari is everyone elses bewilderment, i guess that means im making fun of myself, lain is the best bro, tiadrin is a baking witch, runaan hates ted allen, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, there will be angst dont worry, Trust Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, ethari is a good bean, haha - Freeform, ooOoO subtle foreshadow if you squint Summary:

Ethari meets a barista that's more than he bargained for. He's smitten, all the same. Runaan struggles to keep from drowning within his own mind.

You know it, bro 😏😏😏😏😏

WOO

Beyond the throng of dancers and musicians and laughing children, the crowds he finds crippling, they finds him. He's just past the treeline, hidden amid coarse bracken so tall his figure fades from view. Legs crossed beneath him, he sits in a nervous slouch, tufted rushes brushing his chin. When he hears Ethari's heavy footsteps, he straightens and looks up, face tense.

Ethari watches his eyes soften, his neck loosen, watches the relieved breath raise his shoulders.

"Ethari," he greets, baring his throat as he tilts his horns back and lets his eyes fall shut.

Ethari pads forward, parts the rushes, and sits.

"I had to leave," Runaan says. "It was too loud."

He is quiet.

After a moment, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Ethari's voice is warm. "Blue moons are a bit much, even for me." He chuckles. "I should have known better than to bring you out here."

Runaan frowns and opens his mouth to say something, but he snaps his head around and narrows his eyes.

"Ethari!" Lain's voice, then rustling brush and approaching footsteps. "Any luck? We can't find him anywhere."

His head pops up just beyond the bracken, followed by Tiadrin. Only her horns are visible.

"Ethari?" she asks. "Moon and Shadow, how do you lose an elf that big?"

"I've found him, don't worry," Ethari says, stifling a laugh when both his friends whirl in opposite directions, bewildered.

"I'm over here," he calls. "Look down."

Lain, facing him, does a double take. "Ethari? What are you doing over there? Where's Runaan?"

"What the fuck is going on?" Tiadrin appears, eyes steely as her expression. It takes her a moment to register the sight in front of her, but when she does, a pleased smile eases over her features. "So you did find him."

"Yes," Runaan says dryly. "You can leave now."

Lain furrows his brow. "But...why are you here? Are you o —"

Tiadrin grabs him and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Good," she says. "That's great. We'll just..." She begins to back away, tugging Lain along with her.

"Wait, but —"

Tiadrin hisses like a cat, and he wisely shuts his mouth.

When they've gone, Runaan sighs and leans into him. "Thank the Moon."

"They mean well," Ethari begins.

"I know they do," he snips. "I'm merely worn thin tonight."

Ethari snugs a hand around his waist and hopes his silence is comfort enough.

A thousand faces swirl around them, dancing pairs and night-keen eyes, yet none turn to look. None turn to see. It is oddly exhilarating, and he finds his heart quickening despite himself, his breath punching a little faster.

Runaan looks at him. "What's wrong?"

"It's the quiet," Ethari breathes. "So many people..."

Runaan tilts his head and brushes a kiss against his lips. "Yet none can see us," he says into his jaw. "You're tasting the edges of my profession. Do you understand now?"

Ethari chases his mouth, invisible amidst the crowds, and whispers, "Yes."

Bonus that didn't make the cut:

Lain's complaints, as ever, are audible despite the many voices that churn around them. "Now you've done it, Tiadrin. You leave them unsupervised, and they'll just snog their way through the festival."

She swats his shoulder and hushes him. "So what if they do? It's only fair, after all those months they spent pining."

"I can't see her," Runaan said. He's dragged a chair over to the window, and he's sitting in it backwards, arms folded over the front and leaning forward far enough that the back legs jaunt into the air.

At the table, Ethari tinkers with the clasps on a set of horn cuffs, tongue caught between his teeth. "What's that?" he asks distractedly, squints at his project and hums. "Now why won't you latch shut...?"

"I can't see her, Ethari," Runaan repeats. "She's followed her classmates behind the treeline."

"That's good," Ethari says. "She's supposed to follow them."

"She didn't look back before she left. Do you think she's upset with us?"

At this, Ethari looks up. "Whatever for?"

"For sending her to school," Runaan says. "She wasn't pleased when I woke her up this morning."

Ethari laughs, rises from his seat and moves to stand beside him. "All elflings are upset on their first day of school. Children don't like new things, you know. That's what her classmates are for. When she realizes they're all just as nervous as she is, she'll feel more confident."

Runaan is unconvinced. "She cried, Ethari. She never cries, not even when she fell from the balance beam and broke her wrist."

"Physical pain is different from emotional pain. You can teach her to be hard, but that part she'll have to learn on her own." Ethari smiles and takes his hands. He has balled them into fists. "Don't worry, love. She'll be fine, and when she does come home, you can spoil her as much as I know you want to."

Runaan flushes hard. "I don't spoil her," he mutters. "Do I?"

Ethari kisses his cheek. "Copiously." He tugs Runaan from his seat and into an embrace, hand to chest and one outstretched, as if they are dancing, and kisses him again, slower, suggestive. "And now you can spoil me, dear husband. You've been at that window all morning and I at the table. We could both use the break and the distraction."

"I — yes, that sounds nice."

Runaan does not look away when they begin to dance.

She is dread on wings. The Queen's wrath is swift and terrible, a mighty fury that topples trees and houses, and when she lands in the village center, great chest heaving, breaths volcanic plumes of sulfur and smoke, she bellows his name like a war cry. He has suspicions even before she speaks, but her admission is still a slap to the face. She accuses him of treason, of lying, of subterfuge. Murderer, she does not say, but he sees its picture in her eyes.

She says these things in grief, he knows, and perhaps she will regret them once in the lonely solace of her home, but their imprint will not be erased. She speaks in public and thus puts a stain on his reputation; doubt. He cannot defend himself and hope to survive, so he stands with hands white-knuckling themselves behind his back, eyes straight ahead, obediently mum.

When she leaves, it is with a hissed order to make things right. The threat is poorly veiled, and its implications turn his stomach. He goes home to think.

Ethari is wild with grief, sunk halfway against the wall as if too weak to support himself. Runaan thinks he is beautiful as he cries.

Somewhere within him, a voice cries and beats at the door.

"Runaan." Ethari's voice drags. "You think they — They wouldn't —"

His hand comes to his mouth, and he chokes.

"They did." Runaan's words are flat and hard.

Ethari looks away.

"Where's Rayla?"

"I don't know," Ethari whispers. "She fled when the Queen did."

Runaan stands, and Ethari turns back to him. He has not wiped his tears away, and they shimmer like moondrops as he speaks.

"Where are you going?"

"To find her," Runaan says, draws in a breath and looses it slowly. "To ask if she would like to accompany me on my next trip to Katolis."

Ethari sags against the wall. His tears stick to his lashes. Runaan hardens his heart and turns to the door. Ethari calls after him, anyway.

"Wait, Runaan," he says. "Give her time before you go talking of honor and redemption. Let her grieve."

Runaan sighs, turns around, and finds Ethari has moved from his place to come up just behind him. His breath catches at the grief he sees there, the defeat.

He cannot help but soften, step forward and lay a hand on his cheek. He cannot help but kiss him, so very gentle, and murmur against his lips, just before he makes for the door, "Duty waits for no one."