estelle

another fic snippet because the first chapter is already over 10k and no this isn't a joke

****

Then, as he approaches, relief floods him as he hears the tail end of King Ezran’s sentence.

“-think she asked for you to leave her alone.” There’s something hidden in his king’s voice that sets Corvus on edge and he hurries on, willing people to move out of the damn way.

Another voice speaks; male, slurring slightly, middle-aged, dangerous and scorning, “Yeah, your highness the hell you going to do? Forgive me? Forgive me like you did those dirty, disgusting, evil elves. Y’know, I worked in the castle, in the forge, made- made a ton of stuff. Not anymore. Not since them.”

Corvus bursts through the last group, blocking the alley. He’s just in time to see a sharp-nosed man leaning over King Ezran who stood between the large man and a young woman with dirty-blond hair covering her face, curled on the cobbled ground behind him.

“Please, take a step back, sir.” King Ezran says and the man’s large frame shakes with undisguised rage and his eyes are alight with fire.

“You’re just as bad as them. You’ve failed us. You’ve failed Katolis, boy.” His voice is snarling and his teeth are bared like some feral animal. But this is no animal that would listen to Ezran, Corvus knows. The man takes a step forward, unsteady, but he plants his foot onto the ground, twisting it a little as if to mock the young King further. 

“Step b-back.” 

The king stumbles over his words and an ugly, dangerous grin splits across the man’s face. King Ezran’s shoulders stiffen, his fists curling at his sides. Abruptly, Corvus notices how one of the boy king’s arms are hovering protectively over the young woman and Corvus feels his breath hitch at the sight. Corvus begins to move as notices how Ezran’s frame is dwarfed by the man’s silhouette that towers over him, the man stepping closer, leaning in…

And Ezran raises his head up higher to meet him, defiantly, head to head and-

The man spits directly onto his face.

In an instant, Corvus is behind Ezran, hand grabbing the man’s wrist in a swift motion.

And when Corvus speaks, his voice is low, dangerous and unrecognisable.

“I would take that step back if I were you.” 

The man gives a sharp exhale, wrist trembling in the tracker’s grip and Corvus’ nose twitches as it is filled with the distinct smell of hot, stale alcohol. 

A drunkard, then. 

Corvus looks the man over with disdain and bites back a scoff. Pathetic, the knight thinks.

The man doesn’t seem to be completely gone, as with some wits about him; he steps back, although it’s more of a stumble and he is bowing his head slightly.

Yeah, that’s right, sucker, Corvus thinks with a lot more venom than he was expecting. He doesn’t question it, however, and turns to Ezran behind him. The boy seems shaken, his chest rising with a deep inhale as he wipes the spit off of his face with his sleeve. Rage sweeps through Corvus’ veins, indignance rising and- the tracker takes a breath, mentally cataloguing King Ezran’s state.

“C’mon,” Corvus murmurs softly, reaching for the boy who shakes his head and pulls away, turning to the young woman behind him.

“Corvus…” In asking for help, Ezran doesn’t need to say anymore than this as the young king reaches to help her. 

But Corvus can see how his hands shake and his voice is like a wisp in the wind. The tracker makes the executive decision to push Ezran’s hands away from her form; the blonde is taller than the young King and Corvus glances at her - a red mark across her face, others on her neck and her ankle looked twisted. The height difference and multiple injuries would make supporting her difficult for King Ezran and so he resolves to help on behalf of his king.

“I’ve got her, don’t worry.” Corvus reaches down, offering his hand and the woman only hesitates a bit before taking it. King Ezran stands by his side as the Crownguard helps her up, gently. She stumbles on her feet regardless and Corvus shoots a hand out to help steady her. 

She flinches a little at the fast movement but murmurs an apology, sending Corvus a small, shaky smile. He slowly, clearly moves his hand away from her as he returns her smile. As he opens his mouth to ask if she needs help walking, he’s cut off by a noise that has his hackles raising, ready to fight.

It’s a pained yelp and Corvus whirls around- 

The damn drunkard has a tightening grip crushing Ezran’s wrist, tugging sharply on it and Corvus sees red.

His fist is flying before he even thinks, landing a punch square on the man’s mouth.

“Don’t you dare lay a finger on him” Corvus snarls, his heart thundering like a war song in his chest and adrenaline roars through him like a rushing river.

The man clutches at his face, cursing at him and the last thing Corvus sees of him is a sharp-shaped nose rounding the corner of the alley. Corvus flexes his fingers and his skin crackles with the movement, blood darkening his skin.

He immediately kneels on one knee by Ezran, his king - the young woman now secondary to the boy in front of him - cradling his wrist and there are tears in the corner of his eyes but Ezran seems determined to not let them fall, blinking them away. 

With a gentle hand, the same that had punched the drunkard, he takes and cradles Ezran’s hand in his own, surveying the injury. Wrist already darkening with a bad bruising, no breakage - Corvus sees how King Ezran’s eyes flicker to the young blonde woman shakily upright and he has to sigh deeply. 

Get both of them checked out a doctors, it seemed, Corvus decided. As they make their way down the alleyway, Corvus notes an uneasy, nervous feeling in his stomach, like dread and cold shadows. 

General Amaya had always taught him to trust his instincts, not lose his head to them, but be self-assured enough to be firm when others would doubt. But despite this, he doesn’t act on these feelings and his instinct, even though he knows, deep-down, that this was different.  Despite his experience with one-off threats, he still doesn’t push an investigation into the incident in the market.

After all, King Ezran receives threats relatively regularly - and had done since he was a prince - this could just be one of the many one-off attempts.

But the uneasy feeling doesn’t subside, not even as he leads Ezran away, a warm hand on his shoulder and the blood drips off of his knuckles. 

guys, heads up, my hand is in a cast i make zero promises about when this is getting finished/posted (it's my right hand and ohoho guess what? i'm right handed JOY)

*******

Corvus can’t describe the utter terror that overtakes him at the sight of the arrow embedded in Ezran’s shoulder, just below his collarbone.

Above his heart.

The young man’s form is crumpled against the wall, his chest heaving with each breath and pale - too pale. Gritting down his panic and with his mind racing a mile a minute, Corvus is kneeling at his king’s side in an instant.

“We just need to get you to the Durenian healer,” Despite his face drawn tightly in pain, the Crownguard sees a muscle tighten in his jaw and the seventeen year old shakes his head.

“No, Corvus-” 

“Ezran, shut it- Soren can clear a path through the invaders, I’ll be with you the whole time. It’ll be okay, I promise, you just need to not touch it-”

“Corvus.”

And as Ezran pulls at his shirt, revealing inky lines shaped like lightning stretching from the arrow’s head, Corvus’ heart stutters, dread coiling in his insides like cold mercury. He hopes, he begs, he prays that he doesn’t know what Ezran’s next words are.

“It’s poisoned.”

Not posting this to A03 since it’s realllyyyy short. But TW for mild mentions of blood and if you have read Romeo and Juliet or the book If He Had Been With Me, then that too.

**

The arrow flew towards the back of his neck.

Despite all the other sounds around me, the loudest was the piercing of his skin, and the yell he let out. He’d said he wanted this, but it was clear that he didn’t want to die. Not this young.

It was as if it had all fallen silent with his body, hitting the ground lifeless. The dark pool of blood coated his clothes and the ground around him. I hope he didn’t feel any pain.

Runaan’s bow slipped out of my hands and clattered on the ground. My hands trembled and my blood froze for a second time.

I have just killed Callum.

***

There was a memorial for him, along with the arch dragons. Their sacrifices would mean nothing in a few years short of a decade, but it meant the world to me.

There were plans for Corvus to play his cello, for Ezran to give a speech. I wondered all the time if he and Callum could have ever made amends. If I hadn’t kept my promise, Callum wouldn’t have died with the idea that Ezran had resented him. I’d thought long and hard about that one.

When I had came back, the welcoming for Zubiea had been set up the same way. It felt bittersweet how my arrival had now paralleled alongside my leaving.

I didn’t attend the memorial. I had made my way over to the Storm Spire, courtesy of Zym. Climbing to the top felt easier than it had all the other times before. There was a weight off of my shoulders this time, a sense of relief I had not felt since I had picked up that bow.

I stood at the top for a minute and let the cool mountain air fill my lungs, letting air pass through like usual one final time. He had also loved the air. The sensation of oxygen in his chest was sacred to him, as if he needed air more than anyone did.

I took one of my blades out from their casing on my back, the other one would not taste blood. I ran my fingertips over the sharp edge of the metal, feeling it pierce the skin ever so slightly.

I closed my eyes as I stood on the edge.

The blade didn’t hurt as much as I was expecting it to. Not as much as it had been said to hurt. I didn’t feel the pain, but I felt the wind pressing on my body.

This time, there were no wings to swoop in and fly me back safely. For once, that was comforting to think.

After all, I will have to keep my second promise aswell.

I promised not to leave him again like I did years ago.

***