Honor your parents.

Honor our hosts and saviors.

Honor the gods.

Honor yourself.

Such simple words, yet they held so much meaning. One could spend hours contemplating the full meaning of each of those strictures, but Thane always felt the most difficult one to understand was the last one. Honor yourself.

What did it truly mean? How could he honor himself when he was but a tool of the hanar? His parents were only a dusty memory, covered in the nostalgic patina of young childhood before drell recall fully took hold. He remembered bits and pieces, enough to honor their memory, to try and adhere to their teachings and guidance across the years.

Honor the hanar, the saviors of the drell race. That one, at least, was easy to understand. If it hadn't been for the hanar all those centuries ago, the drell would be extinct, or reduced to a primitive race struggling to survive on a dying world. His entire life was lived in honor to their saviors, given to the Compact when just a child to do for them what they could not. He considered the successful execution of his contracts the highest possible form of service to the race that his people owed so much.

The gods were trickier. He had never had much faith. Sometimes, just before the final trigger squeeze or when he had his prey cornered, a prayer to Amonkira would come unbidden to his lips, for his hands to be steady and his aim to be true, but it never reached his heart. He knew he would enter Kalahira's domain one day, but with the arrogance of youth, he ignored the fact. He was too good to fail now. His teachers, his handlers, even he knew that he was one of the best assassins in recent history. One day, Kalahira, but not now. Arashu held his attention least of all. What did he need with the goddess of motherhood and protection? It was his victims who needed her succor. No, he was Amonkira's living avatar, a finely honed tool of death, lovingly and painstakingly crafted to perfection, used thoughtfully, given his due and recognized for his superb skills.

At least, that's how he had thought a few months ago. Now his world was turned upside down. Arashu apparently did not take being scorned well.

Honor yourself. His thoughts skipped back to the beginning. What did it mean to honor himself when he was a tool, no matter how painstakingly created? And what happened when that tool broke? For the first time in his life, Thane was lost. It was bad enough that Arashu had taken a personal interest in his life, sending one of her sihas to strike him down in a way he hadn't even been able to imagine. And then, to have this delicate, yet fierce beauty accept him, to hold him. It was beyond compare.

Thane stared unseeing at the endless rain rolling down the environment dome as his mind flashed back. So nervous. She's going to kiss me. Soft lips, eyes closed, the scent of summer flowers and spice. Her lips touch mine, and a thrill goes through me so strong my heart skips a beat. Stolen kisses in the Guild can't compare to this.

Fast forward a month. The hanar are angry. My oldest teacher understands. He is the most spiritual of all of them, and he knows how the old gods move. I've tried to honor our hosts and saviors, but my mind is elsewhere. I dwell on the texture of her skin, the taste of her mouth on mine, the feel of her underneath me. I count the hours until I can see her again. I know I shouldn't, but I can't stay away.

His memories flash to this morning. It's the reason he's sitting here, as high as he can get inside the environment dome. As isolated as he can manage without going outside. She's happy when she sees me. Her arms crush me tight. She tells me of the child within her. My world twists until it's no longer recognizable. Arashu is laughing at me.

A child. He still could not comprehend it. So naive, he berated himself. His training included the basics of biology and reproduction, but the Guild was a nearly monastic order. Relationships were strongly discouraged. The instructors stepped in with more drastic measures if the couple refused to heed the warnings. Thane had experienced his share of stolen kisses and fumbled gropes in back hallways, but they never meant anything beyond fulfilling curiosity. When he had graduated as a fully trained assassin, he had availed himself of the occasional prostitute after completing a mission. But nothing in his entire life compared to the way that Irikah made him feel. Just the touch of her hand would electrify him, and the way she looked at him, as if she saw through the carefully constructed barriers around his heart and soul, and yet, she loved him anyway. He would dedicate his life to her love and protection. At least, he would in the abstract. But now, faced with the imminent arrival of their child, he was panicking. He had failed the last two missions the hanar had sent him on because he hadn't been able to focus. Now it was even worse. Would he be reduced to menial labor just to afford a roof and food for his new family? Babies were expensive, and they were so helpless.

He looked down at his hands. Automatically, they curled around an imaginary sniper stock and trigger. Slowly he reshaped them to hold an imaginary baby. How could he do this? He knew less about babies than the children playing in the parks. At least they had brothers and sisters. All he'd ever had was the Guild and his training. He had killed before most drell had their first kiss. While his cohort was idolizing pop singers and getting skinned knees, he was learning six different ways to kill turians, humans and krogans and sinking thousands of rounds into practice targets. His entire life had been training for one purpose...to kill. Yet he could still create life, as Arashu reminded him so bluntly.

There had never been any question of stopping the pregnancy. Not with the drell so reduced in numbers. Every child was a blessing, no matter how it was conceived. Thane could step away, return to the Guild, send Irikah his contract money. They would never want for anything. Her family would support her and help take care of the child, and soon enough she would find someone else. A beautiful woman who was also fertile was highly desired.

Thane's hands clenched into fists at the thought of his Irikah with another man. Stepping away may be the prudent thing to do, but for him it was impossible. He loved her. His unborn child scared him to death, but he refused to back down. Somehow he would make it work. He was a sword honed to a razor's edge, but a sword could be remade. It would never completely lose its character, but it could be put to other uses. So what if the edge became blunted. That would make it safer for a child to grasp. He would still be a sword, only now turned to protection, standing guard against the dangers of the world.

Decisions needed to be made, actions taken. Skulking on an isolated rooftop was no longer a viable option. With silken grace, Thane rose to his feet. It was time to talk to the hanar. He needed to request his release from the Compact. He had honored them his entire life, but now he must honor himself and take responsibility for the life that he had kindled inside Irikah. His duty lay elsewhere now. A child. His child. He would be a father.

There, on that flat rooftop under the rainy dome, he swore to Arashu and his unborn child that he would always protect his new family. With new determination in his shoulders, he strode to the lift that would take him back to the Guild, back to where his new life would begin.

A/N: My first publication. Comments welcome. Features vignettes that are mostly related to a larger story I'm working on, but may branch into alternate story lines. I don't have a beta, so please forgive any mistakes. I take full ownership. If someone is interested in helping out, I would adore you and offer you cookies.