"In case we don't make it to sunrise.. I love you" - moonlit-grove
I originally had a far more angsty idea for this one... But have some angst/comfort instead because I like that one better and my babies have suffered enough
Eye of the North, 1334 AE
She wakes to a weight pressing on her. It’s heavy, someone taller than her, but she can push them-
A haunted, golden eye is staring at her and Nyra loses all desire to do so. Her heart beats a little faster out of sudden fear and a slight panic that she almost hurt Trahearne again unknowingly, but there’s no time to address that when he’s whispering barely coherent words in her ear, voice thinned in terror, holding onto her for dear life and she lets him.
“Listen to me, listen to me, I need you to listen to me,” he’s saying fast, as if it’s his last chance to speak. “Before he comes, I need you to know, Lyss, please-”
“He won’t come,” she says gently, slowly wrapping her hands around him so as to not startle him. Her chest feels awfully tight, but his pain is greater, more urgent. “I won’t let him come.”
“He says this is my last sunrise,” Trahearne sobs into her hair, “and after that I’m fodder, I’m fodder-”
“You’re not fodder, I won’t let that bastard come to you,” it takes effort not to allow her voice to break, to keep it even and calming, even when she’s already crying too, “I promise you, he won’t come. You’re safe. I got you. I got you.”
“I love you,” he goes on, “I love you so much and it’s you and Mother and Riannoc that keep me not fodder and I want to see another sunrise, please-”
“I won’t let him have Riannoc or Mother too,” Nyra whispers, kissing his tears away, “As long as I have my staff he won’t be getting close, I’ll burn him down before a hair falls off your head, I got you, I got you.”
“I got you,” she repeats as he sobs louder into her hair, pinning her to her bedroll, and she lets him use her body as a place for grounding and comfort. Suddenly, his hand slides over the scar on her shoulder and she focuses all her energy on not freezing.
He isn’t supposed to know it’s there. He doesn’t know he’s there. Maybe he’s just feeling the area up.
“He won’t harm you again,” he says suddenly, still dreaming, “he won’t-”
“Trahearne!” she shouts, voice shaky, tearing them both from the moment. He stares at her, confused, with tears rushing down the side of his face, eye wide in bewilderment. “Lyssa’s pretty hands, what the fuck was that? How do you know about that scar? How!”
“Thorns,” he groans, pushing himself away and rubbing at his eyes. “Thorns. Lyss, I’m sorry I-”
“You don’t need to apologise for asking for comfort but tell me how you know about the scar! I didn’t tell you, I didn’t show you, nothing!” She sits up, grabbing her boots with shaky hands. She finally caught a night of sleep and it ends like this.
“I’ve been watching you,” he says quietly. “And I accidentally overheard you and Braham talking. The way you move your shoulder tells me something’s not right with it and after that I... filled the gaps myself.” He moves to rest his head in the crook of her neck in a loose hug.
“I’m not angry,” she whispers. “Just shocked. But you’ve been more observant than I am on occasion. I should’ve known I can’t hide something like this from you.”
She’s dreaded this conversation for the past three years. Nyra knows they have to talk about it someday, and they’ve been dutifully avoiding it like thieves in the night, but she isn’t prepared. In all honesty, she will never be and she’s had to bite the bullet more than once, except this particular bullet could end badly and open wounds she’d rather stay closed and, she imagines, him too.
She looks him in the eye. He looks tired, shaken, but there is a battle equal to hers on his mind too. A battle he seems prepared to fight.
“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” Nyra asks. “Try to, at least?”
He lets out a huff of laughter, a small, but resilient little thing. “We can try, yes. However many times it takes. Now, come back to bed. I cut your sleep short.”
“I’ll go work,” she replies, untangling herself from the hug and placing a gentle kiss on his nose. “Go sleep-”
“Not a word, Alysannyra,” he frowns. “You’re staying here and you’re going to sleep.” His fingers tingle with magic ready to be released. “Magical means or not.”
“If you say so,” Nyra says, but it sounds weary. Waking up in the middle of the night isn’t new, but this feeling of tiredness and anticipation certainly is.
But Trahearne is worth a thousand nights like this and a thousand attempts. She lays on the bedroll and curls against him, letting him run the gently draining magical fingers on her face.
There are drastically worse ways to spend the night.
I hope you like it! It’s sappy and fluffy and angsty and I hope I delivered what you wanted to see! Maguuma is a sore wound for both of them but they’re troopers, they’re gonna get out of it victoriously <3 Thank you for the ask :)