Not that Ithril didn't seem like he wanted to. Carver knew his brother well enough to see that there was a fight brewing under his otherwise calm exterior, anger flashing in his brown eyes.
Carver himself had expected to feel…slighted, maybe. He was the oldest and the one who should be the leader rightfully, but he could see the wisdom in his father's words. Neither of them knew everything they needed to know to be an effective leader, not a leader like Angen was, anyway. Between the two of them, they had what they needed, but it would be a struggle to hold the clan together alone.
Ithril was looking to his older brother, almost like he expected Carver to argue, but Carver just shook his head. There was no point. If it was what Angen willed, then they had to go with it.
"As you wish, Father," he said.
Ithril gave him a narrowed eyed look and then focused on their father's face again. "Fine," he said. "I guess that makes sense."
Angen smiled and reached his hand out to pat Ithril's hand. "You will be fine. You will soar, my son, but only if you realize that you can't do it alone."
Carver wasn't sure he liked the look on Ithril's face following their father's words, but this wasn't the time for that. There were more things that their father needed to say to them, and he settled in to listen.
He didn't kid himself that he would ever see his father again. This would be the last time he ever spoke to him or held his hand, and he wanted to make sure that he didn't miss a moment of it. Carver wasn't one for open displays of sentimentality most of the time, but then, neither were any of the other Sitheri. They were a more closed group when it came to their affections, preferring to show it with actions and small gestures than words. Their mother, Bethali, had been different in some ways, preferring to give her children and husband kisses when she saw them and telling them often that she loved them, and with her death, some of Carver's willingness to be open about his feelings had gone away.
As time passed in the room, Angen grew weaker. Carver and Ithril had to pull their chairs closer to the bed to hear his words as his voice got softer and softer. Finally, as the last remnants of the day slipped away into the full darkness of night, they all three sat in silence.
Even Ithril was holding one of Angen's hands now, and he didn't take his eyes away from his father's face.
At some point, E'lira joined them, standing at Carver's back as they kept vigil for their father's last moments.
One of the machines in the room started to beep insistently, and Angen made an annoyed face. He mouthed something, and Carver heard E'lira inhale sharply behind him.
"What?" he asked softly, turning his head to look at her.
"He wants to be unhooked," she replied, and her eyes were overfull again. "He wants the machines turned off."
"There's nothing they can do anyway," Ithril said, voice flat. "We may as well."
Carver nodded. "Of course." Together they managed to get all of the wires and tubes out of Angen and pushed aside. His breathing was even more labored now, wheezing in and then rasping back out, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.
He found a smile for all of them, beckoning them closer one by one. Angen embraced E'lira with arms that shook, pressing dry lips to her cheek, and when she drew back, Carver could see that she was sobbing quietly.
Ithril was next, and Carver half expected his younger brother to resist the hug, but he didn't. Instead he melted into the embrace and held on for a moment longer than E'lira had, before letting out a shaky breath and stepping back and to the side. His face was closed down, but Carver knew he had to be hurting.
When Angen reached a hand out for his, Carver gave it, letting his father draw him closer. He returned the embrace, inhaling the scent of sickness and death that clung to him.
"I love you, Father," he murmured, unable to let it go unsaid in these last moments.
Angen smiled and there was understanding in those eyes, but when Carver went to pull away, he found his father quite unwilling to let go.
Angen drew in a deep, rasping breath and whispered "Remember Kithairin."
Before Carver could puzzle out what that could possibly mean, Angen was letting him go and flopping back against the pillows. His eyes closed, and within minutes he was gone.
E'lira placed a hand over her heart and whispered the Sitheri words to ease passing, and all three of them made the salute, standing there over the body that had once housed their father before Ithril went to get the doctor.
They stood there until the doctors had come and collected Angen's body, taking it to go be prepared for the burning. The Sitheri were firm believers that the body was only a temporary home. It housed the spirit until it was time for it to make the journey back to the stars from where it had come.