RONIN
It’s more than a touch lucky that Remi is in such a terrible state, because on any ordinary day Ronin would not be able to keep him from doing whatever he wanted. But riddled with fever and with all strength and vigour dragged out of him, it’s a tragically easy thing to stop the Lullaby from thrashing too much, or swatting the canteen out of his hands. At first Ronin doesn’t think it has worked, and the sinking feeling in his stomach is enough to have him wanting to throw himself from the Citadel gates.
But then his name hits the air, hoarse and ragged, and the Star can barely put the canteen down where it won’t spill before Remi’s arms are around his neck. He doesn’t respond at first - he can’t, rather - his arms winding around his husband in return to drag him up against his chest, the huntsman burying his face in sweaty curls. His grateful tears are hidden in the shaking of his shoulders and in unsteady snatches of air; he shakes his head in return, unsure of the answer himself.
”You weren’t well,” he whispers at last. ”But you’ll be okay for while, now. No more leaving, I promise.”
But then his name hits the air, hoarse and ragged, and the Star can barely put the canteen down where it won’t spill before Remi’s arms are around his neck. He doesn’t respond at first - he can’t, rather - his arms winding around his husband in return to drag him up against his chest, the huntsman burying his face in sweaty curls. His grateful tears are hidden in the shaking of his shoulders and in unsteady snatches of air; he shakes his head in return, unsure of the answer himself.
”You weren’t well,” he whispers at last. ”But you’ll be okay for while, now. No more leaving, I promise.”
one more wish for you
