#you'll never guess what she did to save trahearne's life :^)

[intern-seraph]

#9 for the prompts?

you have seen neither hide nor hair of fina yet but for context: this is post-hot and pre-s3. her story is in an au where there are 3 commanders and also trahearne lives. context over—

(yes i am addicted to trammander, what about it)

9. “I know for a fact that you’re not ‘fine’.”

“I’m going into town later today,” Fina calls from the other room. “Do you need anything?”

Trahearne nods, remembers she can’t see him, shouts, “I need a new pot of ink!”

She pops her head into his bedroom, her lips quirked in a tired smile. “Black?”

“Unless you’d like to mix it up?”

“Perhaps I can find some of that color-changing ink.” She steps fully into the room and sits down on the side of his bed. She watches him as he writes his current letter—a long and formal notice regarding the selection of a new Pact Marshal. He pauses and cranes his neck to look at her. There’s a familiar forlorn glint in her eye.

“That would be lovely. You don’t have to, though. The ink can always wait; I have enough to get through the day.”

“While I’d love to spend the whole day with you, I do need to go shopping sooner than later.”

“I know. I’d just like to spend time with you.”

The tips of her ears tint gold and she looks away. Her fingers curl into her skirt. “Y... eah.”

“Are you alright?”

Her ears fold and press back against her skull. Her shoulders hunch up and she presses her lips together. “I’m fine.”

He braces one palm on the desk and rises. She refuses to look him in the eye, but he can feel shame wafting off of her. “I know for a fact that you’re not ‘fine.’”

She flinches. He moves to sit beside her and sets one hand on the small of her back. Her muscles relax a fraction. “I’m fine, really,” she repeats, even as her voice trembles.

“Look at me, please.”

“I—”

“Please.”

At first, her movement is stiff, but slowly she turns to look at him. Her eyes, already bloodshot and puffy, brim with tears. Her lip quivers. “I’m sorry, I know I must look pretty pathetic,” she whispers.

“Nonsense.” He reaches up with his weaker arm and thumbs away her tears. She leans her cheek against his palm and covers his hand with hers. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid.”

“If it’s affecting you like this, it’s not stupid.”

“I-if you’re certain… alright.” She takes in one long, shaky breath. “I just… ever since we left Maguuma, I can’t stop thinking about, well, everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I kept failing at every turn. Naseera and Aviena, they’ve always been so amazing a-and so good at this job, but I’m— Trahearne, I’m just so useless. I’m supposed to be a leader, but I can’t do anything right.” He remains silent and holds her against his side. She sniffles, then continues, “Even before Mordremoth, I couldn’t manage to do one thing right. You should have demoted me as soon as you heard about what happened with the plato—”

“That was not your fault. Demoting you would be doing exactly what the enemy wanted.”

“But it would have been the right choice! No matter what I do, people die because of me! I’m useless as a Commander. You, Naseera, Avi, all of you would be better off without my butting in.”

“Stop it. You have always been a valued member of the Pact.”

“You nearly died! I nearly… I almost… I had Caladbolg, I was really willing to do it and I almost did!”

“Because I asked you to!” He doesn’t realize that he shouted until he sees the shock on her face. Trahearne takes a deep breath, then leans in to kiss her forehead. “But you didn’t do it. And I’m here, alive. Because of you.”

Fina presses her face into his chest and grips at the back of his shirt. “Is it okay if I don’t go shopping today?”

“Of course.” He pulls her in close and rubs circles between the small, gnarled growths of knotted bark on her shoulder blades. His thumb runs over one bump. She shudders and holds him with a stronger grip. “We can cuddle, if you’d like?”

“Mhm.”

They both fall back onto the bed and settle against each other. One of her legs curls up and her knee rests in the space where his own would have been. Her body thrums with a strange sort of heat that doesn’t seem entirely natural, but that’s alright.

“I think,” he says into her vines, “that we all left part of ourselves in the jungle. None of us are the same people that we were a year ago, dear.”

“I can’t just leave my mistakes behind me, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“I know. But dwelling in them does you no good. You have to forgive yourself.”

She puffs out a steady breath. Her forehead butts up against his chin. “I’ll think about it.”