Couple chapters to transition from LW3 to PoF; they are a mess but Trahearne is also a mess so I guess it works thematically lol

Caoilfhionn's been listening to Enya again, and also to a bunch of Christopher Tin pieces - Baba Yetu obviously, but also Iza Ngomso and Sogno di Volare and random others. Trahearne... has not.


48: Cracks

He was warm, and naked, and relaxed, and was wrapped around something smooth and slowly breathing, and they were both wrapped up in thick fleshy leaves. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, and was surprised and pleased to find they both worked – though his left eye was blurry, like he'd gotten water in it. Before him, under his nose, were familiar green leaves shot with magenta luminescence, softly lit by diffuse dark green light soaking through the seedpod's walls. Just over his head, the pod was slowly peeling open, and he could see a gentle blue sky that suggested it was late afternoon.

Trahearne stirred in his arms, and he pressed a kiss to his temple. "Hello, beloved."

"Caoilfhionn." Trahearne's voice was deep and rumbly with sleep, and Caoilfhionn fought back a shiver. "We're... home...?"

"Yes, we are," Caoilfhionn said. "How do you feel?"

"I'm alive," Trahearne said incredulously. "I don't know how you did it, but you did..." He had been curled up around himself, having been placed into the seedpod first, but he reached up with his left arm and wrapped it around Caoilfhionn, holding him close. His right arm, Caoilfhionn found, was still not full-grown yet. "I'm eternally grateful."

"I said I would," Caoilfhionn said, smug in the security of hindsight, and twisted around to kiss him as best he might in the cramped space. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but he had not shared a proper kiss with his love in so long! It was worth it, and he wanted to swoon as their lips joined, though there wasn't the space to. Trahearne sighed against him and in response his own embrace tightened.

As they shifted, the pod began to split open. Caoilfhionn broke off rather unwillingly and looked up to the open sky once again. Pretty soon the whole pod was going to pop open and deposit them unceremoniously on a branch, so they might as well get out with what dignity they could. "Shall we?" Though he was distracted by Trahearne taking advantage of his glance upwards to kiss his throat, eliciting a moan. "Ah, we really ought to-"

It was a bit awkward, when he hadn't used his body in... some unknown period of time, to clamber out around Trahearne, then turn to give him a hand as well. Trahearne stood with creaky, stiff arms and legs, but his body was no longer corrupted and hardened. His leafy skin was a little rougher in those places, a change felt rather than seen, and his regrowing arm looked strange, almost skeletal. But visually he looked nearly good as new, with vibrant dark green skin and yellow eyes just as he ever had, and Caoilfhionn stared at him adoringly.

"That bad, huh?" Trahearne asked as he caught his gaze. Caoilfhionn felt his luminescence flush, though now in the sunlight it would be impossible to see.

"No! No. You're beautiful."

Trahearne looked away with embarrassment. "That you can still say such things..."

They were interrupted by a hail. "Firstborn! Valiant!" They turned, still holding hands, to see Mender Serimon himself making his way towards them, with a couple assistants. "Glad I am to see you awake once more."

"How long did we sleep?" Trahearne. "When was Mordremoth defeated?"

"Nigh on nine months," Serimon said. "How do you feel? I'd like to check you over, if you would permit it. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Clothes?" Caoilfhionn asked, smiling. "Send word to Blathnat, if you would."

"And news," Trahearne said. "I know the world will not have been sitting still after Mordremoth's death."

"You're quite right," Serimon said, his assistants giving them both a hand to descend the Tree. "But I think it would be good for you to remain here a few days more to get your bearings before getting involved. Especially you, Trahearne."

"Mm." Trahearne grimaced and glanced at his right arm. "Well, they've been doing all right without us, they can survive a little longer."

Caoilfhionn laughed, partly amused by Trahearne's cavalier attitude, partly simply for the delight of laughing. "I'm glad you're back."


Trahearne's arm needed more than a few days to come to full maturity. Physically in all other respects, he was fine, but Mender Serimon cautioned him against trying to engage in combat before it was ready, to avoid having to keep relearning his body. Trahearne acquiesced and did not at all seem opposed to living without responsibilities for a while longer, which pleased Caoilfhionn.

They stayed in Trahearne's hut in the domestic area, a corner of a small cave-tunnel that led to a west-facing balcony on the outer edge of the Grove. He had not stayed there much over the years, occupied as he was with traveling and with Orr, but it was his own, and it was a good retreat now. Trahearne asked Cathaoir to come guard the entrance, though, to screen visitors; he didn't feel like speaking to many people all at once yet. And the visitors mostly understood. They were only really visited at first by Eithne and Blathnat, and Malomedies and Dagonet, and of course Mender Serimon.

They were able to spend much time alone together, too, and though Caoilfhionn wanted to get out and about more, he was blissfully happy to be able to hold his love safe and sound at last, to lie beside him in comfortable repose, to look out over the balcony with him, smelling the wind, to take his face in his hands and plant kisses all over it, running his thumbs over the thicker bark strips. And Trahearne returned his smiles, his embraces, his kisses, with a kind of disbelieving adoration that thrilled him even as he sought to make him believe it.

And he was just happy to be back home, after so much time spent away, to learn anew its winding ways, its spilling flowers, the brightly coloured birds that cried and flew through the open spaces. There was time now to see and appreciate the little things, not presently having to run through on one urgent mission or another. Mordremoth was dead, and the Sylvari were making the most of their new collective life, and the world went on day by day in its beauty and sorrow and joy. He felt brand new again. Which was most welcome after the weariness that fighting Mordremoth had wrought upon him. He tried not to think about those times, throwing himself into the present instead.

Caithe came to visit soon after they came to their new home, and she brought news and more news: of the guild becoming Dragon's Watch – Caoilfhionn huffed for a few minutes but quickly accepted it – of Aurene's birth, of Caudecus's death. And she brought a message from General Almorra. "Do you wish to return to your position as Marshal?"

Trahearne thought in silence for a long moment. "No. Even if I am ever fit to serve again, my time as Marshal is over. My mistakes cost us all too much. And I... I don't think I am capable of doing what I did then. Not anymore."

Caithe nodded. "I thought you'd refuse. So did Annhilda. I'm glad, personally."

"Glad?" Trahearne frowned.

"You did well in it," Caithe said. "You were admirable, a shining example to Tyria. The best you could be. But I know you were always happiest in research."

Trahearne relaxed again. "Yes. That is true. Though... now that my horizons have been expanded... well. I must get better first."

Physically, Caoilfhionn was a little better off than his love. His leaves had grown back, just as lush as before, and his scars from where Mordremoth had torn at his flesh were nearly completely grown over. Though Trahearne still paused at them when he ran his hands over his body... But his left eye was not nearly as strong as it had been, and it took some time to find a jeweler who was experienced in making eye-glasses, which he'd seen with some frequency on Humans and Asura but only very rarely on his own people.

He was a little anxious when he first put them on. To be sure, it was marvelous, to be able to see as well as he used to, clear and detailed. But – wouldn't he look funny, with these round silver things on his face? "How do I look?"

"Looks great," said the Human jeweler. "Do you not like them?"

Trahearne smiled. "Can you see?"

"I can see very well now. But does it look strange?"

"You're beautiful," Trahearne said to him soothingly, and his expression told Caoilfhionn that his opinion was true, far from being a white lie. Caoilfhionn grinned at him and was rewarded by a smile in turn.

"Then I am content. Thank you, sir."

And now he, at least, could begin to get back into elementalism without worrying that his sight would betray him and accidentally send a fireball to places it wasn't supposed to go. Trahearne watched him on the practice field – actually, many people watched him on the practice field, his fighting style was different from most other elementalists with his sword in his hand.

"That's different," Trahearne said, the first time he saw it. "You never fought with a sword before."

Caoilfhionn looked down at his long curved blade. "Malyck bore it. I came across him in the Heart of Maguuma... He... is gone now. But I will carry his memory with me always."

Trahearne put a hand on his shoulder, silently sympathetic to his lingering grief. "...I remember Malyck," he said softly after a while. "I wish things had been different."

"Thank you. But yes." Caoilfhionn raised his head and managed to smile again; it was easier when he could see Trahearne's thoughtful eyes. "I have found my skills moved in new and interesting ways by this weapon. I would like to study it properly now that I have the time."

"May I help?"

"Of course!" Even had he not already wished Trahearne to be more involved in his life, he was not going to turn down the offer of nearly thirty years of magical experience!


Those idyllic autumn days passed swiftly, and they delighted in each other's company as they had not been able to do in the waking world for a year, yet there was something between them, Caoilfhionn felt. But he could not detect what it was, only that Trahearne seemed still withdrawn and dark when his attention was not inclined towards Caoilfhionn, and he slept ill. So he cherished the times when the darkness was not there, when he could hold Trahearne's wounded heart in his hands and breathe life into it with his unfailing love.

But it only got worse, not better, and rapidly, after those first couple weeks. Trahearne's temper was short, much more than usual, and as the days passed he spent more and more time brooding. He pulled back from Caoilfhionn, from the embraces, from the kisses, from making love, even from conversation, and Caoilfhionn's heart bled, for what else could he offer?

"What's wrong?" Caoilfhionn asked eventually, softly.

"Nothing," Trahearne said, yet there was unwonted irritation in his voice. He gentled voice and gaze with an effort. "Sorry. I am... fine."

He thought it would pass, then, Caoilfhionn reasoned, and nodded mildly and dropped the subject.

But it did not pass. The only time he could hold Trahearne now with all his love was when he writhed in nightmares, waking soaked in sweat and tears, helpless against Caoilfhionn's arms. Caoilfhionn's own dreams seemed unimportant in comparison to whatever horrors Trahearne was reliving; he dreamed of searching, always searching, never finding – or sometimes finding a vine-riddled body. Trahearne would not speak of what he saw, only burying his face in Caoilfhionn's shoulder, and he cursed Mordremoth in his head for reducing the greatest of the Sylvari to this.

He didn't know what was going on. He would have given his own arm to take away Trahearne's suffering now – why could it not be over? It controlled every part of his life and Caoilfhionn was helpless to break him free.


"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked another time, during the daylight.

"What do you mean?" Trahearne asked sharply.

Caoilfhionn dithered for a moment. Trahearne was sensitive to his current weakness. "Only that... you seemed... out of sorts, often, and I wish to make you happy."

Trahearne looked away almost guiltily. "Are you happy?"

"I'm always happy to be with you. But I'd be happier if I could make you happy."

"Don't worry so much about me," Trahearne said quietly. "Just be as happy as you can. I like when you are."

"All right," Caoilfhionn said in confusion.

But Trahearne would not previously have lost control of his temper in the little places he now did – even going so far as to shout angrily at Mender Serimon over being told not to over-exercise his new limb, for instance. Trahearne had been infallibly courteous and noble, even when he was furious. The iciness of his former anger had dissolved into an unpredictable maelstrom, striking at unexpected times. Trahearne was not happy like this, hated how he could not control himself, hated that he hurt everyone around him when he lashed out. He hadn't said so in words, but it was obvious!

And the more it happened, the more he brooded and the less he spoke of facing life at Caoilfhionn's side. The space between them widened and he could not bridge it, not with all his love and patience and hope. "Why am I still alive?" his love whispered when he thought Caoilfhionn wasn't listening, and his tone was not that of wonder.

Days passed, the visitors dwindled even from the small number they had been before, and Caoilfhionn went out into the Grove alone now. And it was becoming more difficult for him, too, not to be weighed down by his own memories, everything he'd gone through, all the trials and failures he bore. But he tried to swallow them, for Trahearne needed him to be strong. Trahearne had been strong for him, always but especially when it mattered most. He needed to return it now.

He knew it was time to confront it when Trahearne raised his voice to Blathnat, who might have been a teasing and prideful person but who had never hurt anyone a day in her life, and she fled – to cry, Caoilfhionn was sure. Trahearne went out to the balcony and sat on the bench in a miserable huddle, and Caoilfhionn stayed inside, trying to control his breathing, of distress and defensive anger and worried grief. That couldn't be Trahearne's fault. Getting upset at him would only make things worse.

After about half an hour, he went out to the balcony and knelt on one knee next to Trahearne's seat, waiting patiently for him to talk about it.

"...You should have let me die," Trahearne said after an interminable period of staring into the distance. He was no longer huddled tightly, but his body was... collapsed, in an upright position. Hopeless. Despairing.

"Forgive me," Caoilfhionn whispered. "I am the most selfish."

"I'm broken," Trahearne rasped. "My mind is not entirely my own. Mordremoth may be dead but you should have killed me along with him."

Caoilfhionn had to breathe before he answered. "I couldn't. I need you."

"Is that why you manipulated me into living?" Trahearne said sharply. Then, even as Caoilfhionn inhaled with hurt, turned his head away with a half-sob. "No, no. I cannot blame you. But who I was is already dead. I am not that man anymore."

Caoilfhionn waited. He didn't know what to say. Perhaps he had coerced Trahearne, gambling his life against Trahearne's love, that was one point of view. He was selfish, through and through. But he couldn't help it.

"You should go," Trahearne said softly. "Go live your life. I am only an anchor holding you back."

Instead of leaving, Caoilfhionn rose and sat on the bench next to Trahearne. "I don't want to. Please talk to me. I'll not be put off until you do."

Trahearne turned his face away, and Caoilfhionn heard him swallow. "Stop."

"No. Talk to me, beloved. Please." He put his hand next to Trahearne's, almost touching but not quite.

Trahearne took his hand and gripped it tightly, and slowly, the words began to come. "I... can't find myself. I am... impatient. Angry. And I can't seem to stop myself. It was easy, before, to control myself, to consider... the people around me. Now it's almost... impossible. Something is missing, broken, ripped away from me. I keep hurting everyone and... I don't know why."

Caoilfhionn squeezed his hand and kept listening.

"And I am... useless to everyone now... I cannot fight, with my arm like this, and while I may again eventually... I cannot focus. I cannot focus or control myself and so I cannot trust myself. If I were to seclude myself, perhaps I could... I could at least be certain I wouldn't hurt anyone, yet... I think I would go mad. I have too much time to think and yet what else can I do right now? But more than that... I... know Mordremoth... is dead. Yet... I still hear... an... an echo." Trahearne's voice was almost inaudible, shaking... scared. "It's not him. But it calls to me still."

Caoilfhionn climbed into Trahearne's lap and took his face in his hands. "I understand-"

"No, you don't," Trahearne cut him off, worry and anger sparking in his eyes. "How could you?"

"I understand because my love is yours and your love is mine," Caoilfhionn retorted gently, unafraid. "At the very least, I understand why you've been pushing me away. So tell me now: what can I do? Have I been trying too hard? I will give you all the space you need to rediscover yourself but you are not and will never be alone. So stop trying to run from me."

"You should not waste yourself on me. I'm trying to be strong for you but I can't and I am ashamed to take your pity for my weakness."

"Love is not pity." Caoilfhionn squeezed his face a little, making him look up at him. "Do you want me to be angry at you?"

"Perhaps..."

He wasn't giving him any excuses like that. "I don't care how long it takes, how many failures we must endure. If our positions were reversed, would you give up on me?"

"No," Trahearne said, almost indignantly. "But you are light and life and joy. I am-"

"And so are you to me," Caoilfhionn said. "Oh my scholar, I did not go through hell and back to abandon you just because you are wounded in ways no one understands. I know you are still in pain and you struggle daily. But let me help. You cannot leave me here alone. I know I am the most selfish person in the world but I love you and I will help you live again."

Trahearne was silent, staring at him.

"Do you hear me?" Caoilfhionn asked softly.

Trahearne's arms closed about him and held him close. "I hear you."

Caoilfhionn smiled, and his sap ran fast. "Then let us be patient together. You're too young to write yourself off forever."

Trahearne snorted, a snort that turned into a proper laugh. "I am, am I not? But what are you, five summers?"

"Four and a half," Caoilfhionn said, soul flying on that laugh. Trahearne pulled him in and kissed him and he felt as breathless as his first kiss, for he felt the soul in his arms begin to lift from despair again – at least momentarily distracted by the hope he carried bare in his own.