My old gaming blog for GW2/DragonAge/MassEffect. I've revived this account to share my old Trahearne works. These days I'm mostly active on @zest-whiplash
I'm here to gab about the OC I have developed for my Trammander fic (did I just spend my last gems on buying a Total Makeover Kit and half of my transmutation charges to make these screenshots, YES I DID)
Lady Rhea grew up on Manor Hill in the Salma District of Divinity's Reach. Her family had previously lost their home in the former Canthan and Arts District to The Great Collapse. Due to their lost fortune, Rhea's parents had long pressured their daughter to marry wealthy. Instead of the schools her peers typically attended, Rhea insisted on enrolling in the Ministry Royal Academy - Divinity's Reach most prestigious military academy. To her parent's disappointment, their daughter was accepted, and they conceded to her ambitions in the hopes the prestige would make their daughter a more notable bachelorette.
Another one of Minister Wi's boring banquet parties. Rhea often dodged small talk and hid behind the bread basket.
Rhea struggled to make many friends during her time at the Academy. She was often scoffed at for her family's gold-digging reputation and further mocked as a dual-dagger wielding spellcaster, or as they liked to nickname her, 'the Deathwish'. When not training or reading, Rhea's spare time was spent entertaining Lord Faren's antics. The two were often seen together, as might be expected of "a pair of oddballs", as they were often called by the noble community. And that was putting it kindly.
Rhea sneaking out a "bottle" of moonshine she won over a skirmish with the hooligans of Rook's Row. It was Faren's idea.
To her parent's glee, she eventually caught the attention of the fabulously wealthy Lord Zamon. Threatened with an ultimatum from her parents on graduation day, Rhea decided to pause her dreams of adventure and conceded to the loveless marriage. On the day of the ceremony, she caught cold feet, and sprinted out of Divinity's Reach and into Shaemoor with nothing but a wedding dress, a pair of daggers, and her heart set on escaping her gilded cage.
"Gods... what is this?!"
To her shock, she was met with a centaur assault that summoned a massive Elemental unlike anything the town had seen before. Rhea's instincts kicked in, and before she knew it, she became the Hero of Shaemoor that Logan Thackery took under his wing. No one could say no to the famed Thackery soldier, not even her parents. And just like that, Rhea's life finally became her own, and the next few years of her life exceeded her wildest imaginations (and fears).
"I can finally do what I know I was meant to do... see the world and help people along the way!"
Encounters with the Risen lead Rhea to joining the Vigil. In the beginning, she thought she had found her people. Ironically, however, her life at the Vigil wasn't too unlike her time spent at the Academy. Many fellow recruits couldn't get over the fact that a "noble" had come to dirty their hands on the Risen battlefields, much less rise above their ranks with dangerous feats. Thankfully, her mentor, Warmaster Forgal, didn't care about such garbage and admired the bold "Deathwish" he had taken under his wing. He quickly became the proud parental figure she never had.
Rhea's years of rigorous military training at the Academy came to good use at the Vigil and their campaigns against the Risen.
your notes hit me hard @archesa bc the LOTR ost , inc into the west, has long been on my trammander playlist 😭 i appreciate that we are on the SAME WAVELENGTH
Tags: friends with benefits, fade to black, alcohol, fluff, angst, comfort, POV alternating, bittersweet ending
Notes: Prompt was inspired by a line in the mission, ‘Critical Blowback’ [link] What can I say? So many possibilities for Mr. Worldwide...
[ao3 link]
As the Order of Whispers' second-in-command, it was up to Riel Darkwater to smite down her corrupted Master and take up his mantle. But she could not do it without the help of Tyria's foremost expert on Orrian magic. It was only appropriate she come more acquainted with the quiet sylvari scholar who now shared her most important secret.
A pair of daggers, coated with thick tar-like blood, clattered onto the desk with an unceremonious thud. Naturally, it ruined the disorderly order to whatever stack of papers laid on it before, but not that Riel gave a skirt's ass. At least not at this moment.
The exhausted young woman collapsed onto the leather office chair, savoring the moment of respite, her chest heaving with fatigue. She couldn't help but feel as though she had been drained of all purpose, left in a numb and dizzying fog.
She supposed it was natural she felt this way. After all, just an hour ago her Master had suddenly succumbed to Risen corruption. Just an hour ago, centuries' worth of secrets so carefully cultivated in these dark, hidden chambers were at risk of coming to ruin. And it was only just now she had slain what used to be the body of her great mentor, one of her closest friends, the man who had so thoughtfully guided her in the ways of the Order of Whispers, in the hopes that she would take his mantle one day.
Riel never expected that day to come so soon.
I'm sorry, Master. May you find peace in the Mists.
She lost herself for a moment until a melodic voice broke her reverie.
"Riel. Are you hurt at all?"
Trahearne eyed her, his leaf-like brows knitted in concern. He had been kneeling beside her former master's body, studying its remains. She couldn't help but find it amusing that the sylvari had the energy to conduct a forensic analysis immediately after fighting a grueling 30 minute duel of life versus death. His exhaustion was evident in his heavy breath, and his slumped shoulders, but his eyes were lit by the flames of a scholar's curiosity
"No, nothing beyond what my glyphs can repair. I'm quite alright." Her eyes settled on the corpse. "Well, as alright as I can be."
A moment passed before Trahearne broke the silence, his voice low and gentle.
"I'm… sorry for your loss, Riel. I really am."
While she appreciated his empathy, his sorrow was a sad sight to see. As she looked around her she was reminded of the sanctity of the seat in which she sat. It was official. With her master gone, Riel Darkwater was the new Master of Whispers.
There was little time to grieve and so Riel rejected his pity. In hopes of lightening the mood, she broke a small smile.
"It's Master Darkwater, if I may correct you."
Trahearne returned the sportive gesture. "Yes, of course." He stood on his feet and offered a gentlemanly bow. "For as long as there are Risen threats looming on these shores, I am at your service. Master Darkwater."
The last words chilled her, as though to remind her of the seriousness of her changed situation. "Trahearne," Riel continued, as she stood from her seat and approached the sylvari with a stone cold sober gaze. "This should go without saying but I truly appreciate what you did for me today. The entire Order is indebted to your service. But what has transpired here cannot escape this room. Do you understand?"
"Of course," Trahearne replied with a solemn nod, "I'd never imagine otherwise."
"Thank you. Well then," Riel said with a huff. "There is much to do but I believe we've earned ourselves a bit of a brief celebration for our hard-earned victory, do we not?" She looked behind her shoulder to where she knew her Master's private quarters were. Well, more like her own new private quarters. "Master Corinthian never liked dwelling on tragedy. So I say we honor his passing appropriately."
Without waiting for a reply she turned on her heels, the keys from the desk drawer in her hands. The quiet, even footsteps of her companion quickly followed afterward. Riel made her way through the door and towards the liquor cabinet that she and Master Corinthian had shared many nightcaps over. As befitting of the Master's status, the quarter's threshold greeted them with an elegant lounge area well-suited to entertaining guests.
"Come. Have a drink with me," Riel beckoned. "Let me make your trouble here worthwhile. It's the least I can do."
"That's very kind of you, Riel," Trahearne said. Always so polite, Riel mused to herself as she poured from the decanter. In the glass bottles' reflection, she could see the sylvari was already enraptured by some decorative fixture mounted on the walls. Probably trying to guess what it's made of, where it's from, and how old it is.
"I don't recognize this fabrication," Trahearne muttered, leaning further for closer inspection, "And the aesthetic? If anything, the scale-like design is slightly reminiscent of a trident I once saw wielded by a largos I've met some time ago. I wonder... did the Master ever make contact with-" his voice trailed off once he looked over his shoulder and caught Riel studying him with a bemused expression. He cleared his throat and while he retrieved his composure, the increased glow of his markings was hard to miss. "Forgive me. Perhaps such details would be categorized under classified secrets."
Riel rolled her eyes with a smirk, beckoning him over to the couch that sat between them. "Relax, Trahearne. For once let us enjoy the present, instead of dwelling on the past or commiserating the future. How does that sound?" She collapsed onto the seat, wasting no time savoring her liquor.
A sheepish smile graced his lips as he joined her and took the glass presented to him on the serving tray. "Of course, Riel." His formal poise made a comical contrast against her body's blasé sprawl across the couch. Trahearne took the glass to his lips, and to her surprise, he finished nearly a third of the glass in one go.
"Impressive," Riel mused with a raised brow. "This is straight from the Master's personal stash where he only keeps the hardest of liquors." A smirk suddenly escaped her. "This is much unlike the first time you visited the Chantry if I remember correctly."
An abashed smile curled onto his lips. "Let's just say I've had plenty of practice with a certain norn over these past few years."
"Ah, still kicking it with Forgal? How is the old Vigil chump?
"Indomitable as ever. I was with him when I received your message. It was fortunate that we were right by the Vigil Keep waypoint. Forgal... erm, gives the Order his regards." He cleared his throat. "In the way, he knows how."
She smirked. From what she knew of the Vigil Warmaster, his regards probably contained a few choice derogatory nicknames. If anything, she found the young sylvari's attempt at diplomacy endearing.
"Tell me, Trahearne," Riel continued. "How have you been these days? Truly."
"Me?" He looked away. "…I wish I could say much has changed," he said, a tinge of frustration in his voice.
"Really? But I've read your new publications on the Artesian Well. It was remarkable."
"Thank you, Riel," he said plainly, as though reciting from script. It was clear he didn't share her opinion of his work.
She studied him for a moment. "It never ends, does it? The battle against Orr."
"No. It does not."
"Trahearne, your work has been groundbreaking for our efforts. We are indebted to you. Surely you know that by now after the number of times we've extended you an invitation."
"I'm glad, Riel... "
"It's not enough though, is it?"
He didn't answer.
Riel frowned, disappointed by her poor attempt at breaking the ice. The two had known each other for quite some time by now and after what he did for her today, she felt as though she owed him everything. It was only right that she got to properly know this quiet, yet kind sylvari for the person that he really was.
"Tell me Trahearne, what do you do for fun? To forget it all and just unwind for a little bit? For example, I've taken a liking to poker at Crows Nest Tavern. Sometimes I disguise myself as a Covington pirate and play Belchers' bluff."
Trahearne cocked a brow, as though she were speaking a language he didn't understand.
"Come now!" Riel said with a chuckle, "certainly you have hobbies outside of dipping your head into Risen waters."
"Well, I... I read."
"Ah." Her brow twitched. "You really are a bookworm aren't you?"
"Not that there's anything wrong with it?" Trahearne said dryly, his small smile challenging her ever so slightly. "I get my fair share of fraternizing through my work. I truly enjoy being able to sit by myself with the company of a well-bound book. And mind you, I read much more than Orrian material. Although to be fair, Orrian poetry has proven to be something else entirely. I've found myself enjoying it immensely..." As though guilty of revealing too much, Trahearne trailed off, his glowed intensifying for the briefest of moments as he quietly sipped his glass.
How interesting. Riel smiled. For someone so formidable in combat, he was a surprisingly soft soul. Let's see what other surprises you have.
"Do you have companions outside of work?"
The question caught Trahearne off guard. He thought for a moment. "Well, I have my brothers and sisters. However, my work has made me more distant from them. Except for Caithe. But I must admit, as time goes on, returning home never feels quite the same."
Such a solemn answer only made Riel feel sorry for him. Surely there was more to his personal life than his sister?
"Brothers and sisters," she said with an edge of disbelief. "Hm. What about.. well, I don't know... "
"Don't know what?" Trahearne asked with earnest.
Riel chugged the last of her drink, throwing caution to the wind. She could not resist her curiosity and was now determined to make headway. After wiping her lips she threw Trahearne a playful smile. "Forgive me, Trahearne, I'm just trying to wrap my mind around you. Truthfully, you've always been quite an enigma to me, and that's coming from someone who has made mystery her business."
"My life is quite alright as it is," he said reassuringly. "My Wyld Hunt is the most important thing to me. There isn't much else that I need."
"But what about intimate relationships?" Riel finally blurted out.
"Intimate?" Trahearne's glow intensified, his eyes failing to conceal his surprise. "Oh. Intimate, um, well... "
Riel chuckled. "Nevermind. That was painful to watch. Forget I asked." She leaned over to pour another glass from the decanter while eyeing him to see if he would take the bait.
Trahearne turned away, reticent. "I... well I've tried. With some of my brethren back home. But naturally, they never amounted to much. It is difficult to maintain intimacy when you're always running off to the most dreadful place in Tyria. And to be honest, I can't say I'm quite comfortable with the way others regard me in the Grove."
Intrigued, she leaned forward. "Is that so?"
"Yes. Many sylvari are intimidated by who I am and my line of work. Others regard my Wyld Hunt strangely, if not unkindly. And if they admire me, it's often for reasons I don't particularly care for."
"What kind of reasons?"
"Apparently, there is prestige to be had by being a... a Firstborn. Much less the first of them all."
"Ah, I understand," she mused, her eyes studying him up and down like a rare artifact. "You see, you're what we would call an eccentric celebrity. Or as the Charr say, a rock star ."
"What? Riel, please," he said, shrinking with disbelief.
Riel snickered uncontrollably. The drink was clearly getting to her. "I jest, Trahearne. Relax!"
The sylvari cracked a smile and continued to drink.
Riel continued to study him. It was no a secret that Trahearne had always cut a striking figure, between his tall, lean frame and the sculpture of his elegant features. And as someone so accomplished and amiable, surely the young sylvari often caught the attention of others. Curiosity rose once more and she seized upon the ease in his temperament. "Trahearne. For someone who often ventures far from home, I can't help but wonder something. Have you ever been intimate with others?"
Trahearne did a double-take. "You mean..." He trailed off, leaving it unsaid.
Riel grinned through her glass, nodding.
His reaction was priceless. "How bold of you Riel," he said with an incredulous smile. "What if I asked the same of you?"
"Of course I have," she shrugged, nonchalant. "My time between the Chantry and Lions Arch offers me a... varied pool of acquaintances. Far too tempting to dabble around no? Life is too short to stay in the pen, I say, especially if it does no one harm."
"Yes... I suppose," He said, suddenly tense.
"I can tell you're uncomfortable," she quickly butted in, regretting his reaction. "It's alright, Trahearne. We can talk about something else."
Interestingly, Trahearne had remained silent, clearly lost in thought. And fortunately for Riel, she knew him long enough to recognize the stupor of his curiosity.
"...Or not," she continued. Before he could catch himself, however, Riel cut him off. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" She said, leaning in with a teasing grin.
"What? Thinking about what?" Trahearne sputtered, "No, I'm... It's alright we can talk about something else." His speech was growing sloppy as was his ability to lie.
"Trahearne, we've known each other for years and you share my most highly guarded secrets. We are well past the point of niceties. I'm not here to judge. You are free to be frank with me."
"Have you slept with Sylvari?" He blurted out.
"Yes. I have."
"I see." He did a poor job at repressing his surprise.
"Well. Have you ever wanted to sleep with a human?" She said with a curl of her lips
He winced, rubbing his beck. "By the Pale Tree, when you ask it like that..."
"You're a curious person Trahearne. If not the most curious of us all given your obsession with what most would not touch with a 10-foot pole. So, I don't blame you." She leaned forward, her smile growing mischievous. "And if I may... if you ever need a study partner for this particular area of expertise, I am more than willing to oblige."
His mouth dropped. "Riel... "
"As I said," she continued, her voice soothing. "Say the word Trahearne and we can pretend this conversation never happened. I'm fine either way." She eyed him as she returned to her drink.
His eyes trailed up along her body before resting on her lips.
Riel was more than aware of the effect her uniform could have on others. And never did she mind taking advantage of it when she felt like it. She crossed her legs and leaned forward slightly, shamelessly accentuating the curves of her chest and the lines of her shapely limbs. "Not bad right?" She said, her voice as low as a purr. "Sure, I'm a bit soft compared to what you're used to but I promise it's not too different otherwise." She didn't miss the way his breath hitched at her emphasized descriptor.
Seeing his lack of protest, she continued.
She put down her glass, leaned forward, and placed a comforting hand on his knee. "So. What will it be Trahearne?"
A moment of silence passed. He studied her, eyes contemplative as they traveled from her hand to her features
His gaze darkened. He leaned forward and took her hand, his embrace both gentle yet confident. The touch of his rough yet velvet-like skin sent electricity down her spine.
"Yes, Master Darkwater," he said, the low timbre of his voice dipping to a growl. "I'd appreciate the study."
"Very well, Trahearne."
He gently laid a delicate bundle of Terabinth blossoms upon her desk. "I thought you might like these, Riel. These are only obtained from a sole spirit oakheart in the Brisban Wildlands. The color is quite fetching and reminiscent of your coat."
Riel looked down at the flowers with remorse as she registered the nature of Trahearne's gesture.
"Thank you, Trahearne,," she said quietly. "They are quite fetching."
He eyed her questioningly. "Forgive me. It seems they did not have the effect I intended. Is something a matter?"
After a moment of summoning courage, Riel took a breath and looked her friend in the eyes. "I'm sorry, Trahearne. I thought I'd made it clear what I expected out of our... our relations."
"Er, yes," he quickly said. Based on his expression, however, it seemed that wasn't the case. "But... I apologize. I couldn't help it."
"Trahearne... You are wonderful. I can't emphasize that enough. But I can't do this. I've been down this path before," her voice grew quiet, almost bitter. She did her best to repress the image of a shaggy raven-haired Preceptor. After a moment, her gaze hardened and she continued. "And now? As the new Master of Whispers who still has much to learn, something like this is simply out of the question."
"I understand," he said quietly, his features crestfallen.
"Trahearne," Riel said, hoping to ground him further. "I'm honestly quite surprised. I know how easy it can be to get enamored, especially if you're still new to certain things, but frankly, we have very little in common. It doesn't even take an Ettin troll's brain to see that. I suppose my question is just... Why?"
"I... I don't know." He seemed just as confused as she was.
She studied him quietly.
"Remember what you said about home? About how you didn't like how those in the Grove perceived you?"
"I do."
"Perhaps you're not used to being with someone who really doesn't give a skritt's ass about your status. As your colleague, I've always treated you like an equal, and I just happen to give you a good fuck while I'm at it. And so perhaps this is all refreshing to you. I say all of that to you to hopefully offer you some peace of mind. What you're looking for... It's not me. But it's possible that you like the idea of me."
His expression fell, bowing his head in concession. It was pitiful.
"Trahearne... I'm sorry. I hope this won't affect our working relationship."
"No. Of course not. And I sense what you're saying is accurate. I just need time to reconcile this. Forgive me, Riel, for my naivety."
"Trahearne. How old are you again?"
"Twelve years old."
Riel repressed her impulse to wince. She was twice his age, but she had to remind herself that sylvari years were an entirely different construct from human years.
"Between the Dream and your own life experiences, I know you're not entirely new to all of this... But it doesn't make any of it any easier. Once we expose ourselves to these things, we... We all make mistakes about this. Especially in the beginning. I know I have. But we get through it and I know you will, too." Riel offered a reassuring smile. "You've certainly conquered worse things, no?"
Trahearne nodded solemnly. "Yes. I have. And I'm sure I will continue to do so."
The city glittered with the sparks of fireflies and the distant voices of sylvari passing through the night. Despite being surrounded by the warmth and familiarity of his home, Trahearne felt utterly cold and alone.
"I'm sorry, brother," Caithe said, who sat beside him, soaking in the magnificent vista their pod offered them high above in the Grove. "Even if Riel was right in her assessment, you are still entitled to your hurt." She eyed him slyly. "I suppose I should've expected this milestone eventually, but I must say I'm surprised you took it with a member of the Order of Whispers. I always assumed it might've been with someone… I don't know, from the Priory perhaps." Caithe smiled at him. "Perhaps you have a daring side that I just don't know about."
Trahearne let out a low chuckle. As his sister and closest confidante, he could not bear to hide his feelings from Caithe. But he did his best to fabricate the circumstances under which he and his colleague fraternized.
"You should be well aware of how carried away I get in my studies. Riel happened to be… a particular enthusiastic partner at that time and I suppose things got out of hand." Trahearne looked out below him once more, eyeing the various sylvari who perused the glittering streets with partners in tow, the sing-song notes of their laughter and joy fluttering through the night sky. Their bliss was so effusive it was as though the fireflies flew in unison to frame them in a heavenly halo. "Caithe" he continued more quietly, "I cannot help but find my pain resides in something far more selfish." He closed his eyes as if blocking out the sight of what he could not have would make the painful truth he was about to confess more bearable. "That the potential of love will always elude me. I find myself envious of the joy I see it brings in others, even in those who have long passed but have immortalized it in the countless texts I come across in my work. I can't help but feel it is a warmth I desire with all of my being. But my vocation drains me. It isolates me. And as my experiences with Riel have proved, I do not even know what to look for. I just… I simply feel.." his voice trailed off, succumbing to the sinking feeling in his chest.
"You feel lost. Empty. Perhaps hopeless, even."
Trahearne's eyes snapped open and fell upon his sister with surprise. A sorrowful expression had taken Caithe, and he was quickly reminded that she was the one with far more experience in matters of the heart. And he was reminded of how much more painful it had been for her in these years past.
"I know our experiences differ, dear brother," Caithe said. "But it seems we find ourselves similarly confused when it comes to both our Wyld Hunts and our… personal lives." She turned to look at him with a small but reassuring smile. "But at least I'm not alone in it. I do take comfort in that. I hope you will, too, brother."
"Yes. Always, Caithe," Trahearne said, warmth returning to his chest. "And I am grateful for that."
"And besides," she said, looking out to the horizon once more. "We still have so much more life to live. We are still so young. Can you believe we've even made it this far? There must still be many good things waiting for us when the next sun rises. And the one after that." Her hand rested on his. "You have always been the one to remind me of this. Let me extend that kindness to you."
Trahearne looked up to the sky, losing himself in the night sky's endless expanse, its glittering array of stars spilling towards the horizons as far as the eye can see. Caithe was right. It was a miracle they were alive, and the potential of their existence must be as endless as the sky that loomed above Tyria.
The Pale Tree taught them no less. They must simply summon the courage to venture forth and discover it for themselves. Where life goes - so too, should they go as, well. There will be many things wonderful things waiting for him beyond the horizon. And there will be someone, too. There must be. And as the many works of art and literature he had studied have suggested over countless ages and eons, it will be a beautiful force to be reckoned with.
How I hope to know you one day. Trahearne thought to himself, his chest brimming with hope once more. Whoever you are and wherever you be maybe. How I hope to love you and cherish you with all of my heart.
Happy 420 y’all, may your Commanders enjoy all of the mehkuunah, they sure as heck deserve it
For anyone unfamiliar, mehkuunah is an Elonian plant featured in Guild Wars 1 that is clearly based on cannabis, given it is a plant that “has far-reaching medicinal benefits” and “can extract matter from its buds to treat night blindness, appetite loss, and depression with only mild hallucinogenic side effects” (link)
“I can’t help but find humans fascinating. Much of their culture revolves around their worship of the Six Gods. But despite the mysterious silence of the Six, they still remain steadfast to their faith and the hope that they will one day return and answer their prayers. Perhaps it’s their optimism that I find inspiring. When your world revolves around something that has fallen out of reach, it takes an incredible amount of faith to believe all is not for nothing, and just as much bravery to accept the uncertainty. It is not unlike how I must keep believing in my Wyld Hunt.”
-Trahearne’s journal. 1304 AE, after a tour through Divinity’s Reach.
My name is Rhea Hanaku. Most know me as the former Commander of the Pact. Others call me Lady Rhea. Just Rhea, is fine.
2. What is your gender identity, orientation and relationship status?
I identify as a woman, am mostly interested in men. As some of you already know, I used to be attached... Not anymore, obviously. And please disregard the rumors about me and Spearmarshal Zaeim. It’s nothing serious.
3. Where and when were you born?
1302 AE in the Canthan and Arts District of Divinity’s Reach. I was a child when we escaped the Great Collapse and relocated to Manor Hill in the Salma District.
4. What is your weapon of choice and fighting style?
I’ve dual wielded daggers my entire life. As an elementalist, it was what earned my nickname as “The Deathwish”. To put it simply, I live for the rush of face-to-face combat and relying on my quick-thinking for survival. To this day, I remain a Tempest. There is no other feeling in the world quite like when I’m overloading the elements.
5. Lastly, are you happy?
... Yes. I’m in relatively good health. I have my friends. I am luckier than most.
FAMILY AND FRIENDS:
1. What’s your family like? What is your relationship with them?
I’ve grown increasingly estranged from my parents ever since I ran out of my wedding to Lord Zamon and became the Hero of Shaemoor, as well as Logan Thackeray’s protege. Things got more... complicated since my relationship with the former Marshal became public. There are times where they flaunt my reputation and accomplishments, but that’s it. That’s all I will say about this topic. Next question, please.
2. Have you ever ran away from home?
Hah! Countless times, at the behest of my friend, Lord Faren. I suppose the last time I did that was when I ran away from my wedding ceremony and I’ve never looked back since, have I?
3. Would you consider marriage or having children?
...Besides the one I ran out on? She looks away, growing reticent. After Mordremoth’s defeat, my parents revealed to me that the former Marshal asked for their blessing right before the Pact set sail for the Heart of Maguuma. To their regret, they rejected it... and the rest is history. Other than that, I don’t... She shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. Next question. Please.
4. Do you secretly hate one of your friends?
No! Why would I call someone I hate one of my friends?
5. Which friend knows everything about you?
Lord Faren and Lady Kasmeer have known me the longest. Ever since Mordremoth’s defeat, I’ve grown very close to Caithe.
ASKED BY FANS:
1. Are you literate? Have you been to school?
Yes, I’m privileged to have had an extensive education. I went to school in the Rurikton Conservatory up through secondary school, after which I applied to the Ministry Royal Academy to earn my formal military training.
2. The eeriest prediction you made that later came true?
Eerie predictions? Hah, uh... well, does being single in my late twenties count?
3. What is something you were embarrassingly late to realize?
... That I fell in love with a sylvari.
4. Do you have mental health or physical issues?
I’ve been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder ever since my campaign against Balthazar.
5. What is your current main goal?
I’ve been working closely with Dagonet and his team in their terraforming efforts at Siren’s Landing.
CHOICES:
1. Drink or food?
She throws her head back for a laugh. How dare you to ask me to pick between my omnomberry bars and juniberry gin!
2. Cats or dogs?
You’re out to get me aren’t you? Jokes aside, I spend more time with cats. My lifestyle is unfit for taking care of dogs, and I’m obviously no ranger.
3. Early bird or night owl?
Night owl.
4. Optimist or pessimist?
I’ve always been a bit of pessimist. But over the years I’ve been inspired to make a real effort in becoming a more optimistic and grateful person. I think life can do that to you sometimes when you realize how short and fragile it is. I no longer want to waste it on bitterness.
5. Sassy or sarcastic?
That depends entirely on my mood and possibly how much caffeine I’ve had.
HAVE YOU EVER:
1. Been caught sneaking out
Scoffs. No.
2. Broke a bone
Hard not to in this line of work.
3. Received flowers
She chuckles. I received a few horrendous bouquets from bachelors during my time on Manor Hill. Lord Zamon once filled every inch of my parent’s property with roses dyed in the most garish of colors. She shudders for a moment, before settling into more pleasant memories. She continues, more quietly, But my favorite were the Terebinth flowers Trahearne used to gift me. She suddenly breaks into a small smile, her eyes looking towards some distant place on the horizon. He would leave letters on my desk, with just a single flower placed on top of the parchment. It always made for such a wonderful sight when it was the first thing I see in the morning, practically shining in the sunlight. Gods, it made me so happy... She shakes out of her reverie, her gaze darkening as she returns to the present. Ah, apologies for my rambling. Well... that was then. Um... next question, please.
4. Ghosted someone
She winces. I try not to? There might’ve been a Sunspear or two that I... um, nevermind. Let’s just say smoking too much mehkunnah makes you forgetful...
5. Pretended to laugh at a joke you didn’t get
Oh, Gods, talk about every single moment ever at every damned Minister-held banquet.
Oh this got me right in the heart ❤️ I can’t wait to see how Trahearne responds!!
—
Reasons why this comment made my day:
1. This was my first time writing for a fandom that is both old and small (and for a character that is widely considered unlikeable no less) As if every morsel of interaction wasn’t precious enough! To see folks still keep this tiny train alive makes me so happy
2. This was for ch. 2 and the reader came back!!! And for a fic that i prefaced would be very slow in updates! What!
3. Seeing someone saying they felt a certain something for a chapter that has also made you feel a certain something when writing it is always an incredible feeling. Thank you again, kind reader! link
Tfw you're tempted to try your power reaper in pvp but you just know the toxicity will be tenfold worse because you're playing with a Trahearne clone 🥲
✨ Send this message to blogs you love to see on your dash and also think the owner is amazing! 💛 @kerra-and-company
Skzkwjshsksjs thank you @kerra-and-company you are so sweet, I send this right back at you! 🖤🖤🖤 🖤
And by the way thank you for your kind tags, I completely relate to you in how it can feel weird at first to write from canon characters' pov but you never know till you try so definitely go for it!!! 🙌 I think you'll enjoy it! For Trahearne in particular, I've found it's especially comforting because it just makes me feel like he's still with us hahaha ow my feels 🥲🥲
And I'm extremely happy to hear you dig the way I portrayed his worldview... bc that's always been one of my favorite things about him. He's always had such a graceful way of seeing the bigger picture. Between the way he reacted to Malomedies' torture and the kind of things he said to Caithe in their sapling years, you can see how he always pushes aside his pettier feelings to find the greater good in the world and I find that very inspirational <3 he's a hopepunk knight!
Laranthir is a fine soldier. As the co-founder and Grand Warmaster of the Vigil, he does our people proud. I’ve always found myself familiar with the secondborn, for his determination to take on the sword against the Elder Dragons while never quite leaving his foot in the pool of… romanticism. There was a time I saw a bit of myself in him. I’ve long been resigned to a lifetime forever betrothed to my Wyld Hunt and nothing more. Never did I imagine that would ever cease to be the case. How fortunate I am for that… the next time I see my brother, I shall like to remind him that sometimes it’s up to us to open up our hearts and realize the answer to our loneliness is often right in front of eyes. As Tyrians, we are surrounded by a world of incredible people. It is a gift the Pale Tree blessed us with that we cannot take for granted.
-Trahearne’s journal. 1326 AE, after Zhaitan’s defeat
Trahearne scrambled across the rock, his burning adrenaline numbing the pain of his bloodied limbs.
"Death! Good..."
He spun around and sent a Deathly Swarm towards the direction the voice came from before quickly resuming his sprint. He couldn't waste a moment longer to get a good look. Not only were they coming closer and closer, but he wasn't sure he could stomach another view.
Suddenly, skeletal hands burst out of the ground. They clawed at his calves, instantly crippling him.
Trahearne cried out, collapsing onto his chest. He wasn't sure what hurt more - the suddenly impact sending all of the air out if his lungs or the stinging pain in his legs.
"Death!!!" The creature cried again.
Quickly! Do something! He thought to himself desperately. Gritting through the pain clouding his mind, Trahearne cast a cantrip with his focus. It took all of his efforts to ignore the fatigue of his muscles and the sweat on his brow in order to cast the spell correctly.
There. He could feel the spectral hold of his magic onto the skeletal hands. He wriggled free of it's grasp and quickly spun around to dispel the condition towards the Risen Charr.
"Raaargghhh!!!" The malformed creature howled with a guttural scream as the skeletal claws manifested at its feet instead.
His heart skipped a beat at the sight of the creature. It was a ghastly thing. Nothing but rotting flesh and ragged remains. In the horizon, among the yellow and green haze that seemed to cover all of the land, he can see more of its brethren lurching forward. Everything was dark, decaying, and everywhere he turned was thick with wretched odor. The longer he spent on the ground, the more his skin could feel the foul grease that was lathered in the soil. After all, he was close to the shore line where scores of Risen Rotmouths had covered the land.
Go. Now. Trahearne repressed his nausea and resumed his escape once more. Almost... there...
To his relief, he saw the enclosed grotto. He dashed forward, quickly taking cover from the stony pillars. He had passed this grotto earlier in his travels and noted it as a safe recluse due to the way it sunk into the ground with all of its surrounding rock formations nearly covering it.
Trahearne collapsed onto his knees, his breath ragged. Every breath he took, however, reminded him of the smell of the shoreline. He couldn't hold it anymore. The bile rising in his gut gave way and Trahearne expelled his vomit.
After a few moments of collecting himself, the lonely sylvari feebly crawled towards the wall. He leaned against it, hugging his knees, as the evening chill began to creep through Orr. After a few moments of silence, he realized tears at formed at the corner of his eyes. Ashamed of his weakness, he buried his face into his arms.
Mother, what am I doing here? He thought, heavy with hopelessness. This was all a mistake...
He was so far away from Home. So of course the Pale Tree could not hear him and offer words of comfort or the light of her warmth. Trahearne was stranded, alone, in the most dreadful place known to Tyria, all because of his damned Wyld Hunt. As a necromancer, he was no stranger to the macabre. But there was nothing that could prepare anyone for the amount of incessant horror this desolate wasteland drowned one in.
Trahearne looked up, blinking his eyes dry, as he attempted to regain control of himself. However, something caught the corner of his eye.
To his left was a series of intricate runes carved into one of the stone pillars. As was typical for the scholar, curiosity seized him and Trahearne scrambled forward despite the pulsing ache of his muscles.
As he expected, it was Orrian text:
Love rises
Even when darkness falls
Love rises
Even when we are far away
Trahearne's eyes widened. He recalled the text from an Orrian tome he studied months ago at the Durmand Priory Archive. He looked around him, understanding dawning in his eyes.
If his memory served him correctly, the place he stood in now was known as the Moonlit Grotto. It was immortalized in Orrian literature after centuries of authors, poets and playwrights referencing to the "romantic" location as a place where star-crossed lovers would meet.
Trahearne looked up. He could understand where the name came from.
In the ceiling of the cavern was a crescent shaped crevice. As a result, the moonlight that pierced through the darkness was appropriately shaped.
He studied the rest of the grotto. Like the rest of Orr, it was covered in slime and barnacles. It was a shame to see that this is what happened to what countless generations of Orrians romanticized as a shrine for "love".
Love. Whatever that was. As much as Trahearne had read about it in these past two years of his life, he had yet to understand what it meant. Realizing his injuries, he limped back towards his seat against the wall. He hugged his knees once more, as though suddenly growing aware of his loneliness.
The mystery frustrated him. Based on all of the literature he consumed, he could certainly understand "love" on an intellectual level. Perhaps he was envious of it. All of Tyria's cultures, even one as distant and ancient as Orr, reserved its most passionate language for love. And for that reason alone, he always loved to read about it.
But would he ever find it?
His eyes looked around him once more. If not for the pulsing purple glow of his patterns, he was surrounded by nothing but darkness, death and silence.
No. For as long as this Wyld Hunt seized him, he could never give the time to find such a thing. But that was no matter. As a scholar, he was perfectly content with studying the grand stories and accomplishments of others far more significant. And if all of his efforts could help put Orr to rest and bring more peace to the rest of Tyria’s days, that would be enough.
Trahearne’s eyes wavered closed as he slowly gave into slumber. Another moon rises, marking another day spent on the Hunt. Just how many more moons will it take for him to complete it? He’d already been awake from the Dream for two years.
So.. tired... Trahearne thought to himself idly. He silently prayed to the Pale Tree that it wouldn’t take many more.
