#for those who wish to cry a lot
it has Arrived. the grand angst piece of suffering i’ve been working on since the finale. part 1 of 2. more suffering to follow as soon as I’ve written it. enjoy.
Title:Let Me Back In - Chapter 1 ‘As You Are Mine’
Warning:Spoilers for episode 1x08 of the show. Mature rating for dark themes/content. Moiraine is in a fairly deep depression and is dissociating quite a lot. She’s sunk very deeply into an apathetic torpor and it may be uncomfortable/unsettling to read - be aware and be safe if this is a potential problem.
Summary: Post 1x08 - after what happened at the Eye, Moiraine is struggling to cope. Lan has given her time and space to grieve, but after almost a week of apathy and with no signs of improvement, he finally attempts to reach out to her and encourage her to let him help.
Teaser:‘ Today had brought a slight change in her, though he did not think it was for the better. Staring blankly into space without seeming to see anything. Head all that was visible beneath the mountain of blankets she seemed to be trying to drown herself within. Somehow, the Wheel had finally managed to break Moiraine Sedai. It had made her into a small, fragile thing, a thing she would have despised a week ago. Had he not been able to hear the gentle sounds of her breathing in the silence of the room, he’d have believed her a corpse.’
Link:AO3or Read Below:
The healers of Fal Dara, talented though they were, had been at a complete loss as to what to do for his Aes Sedai.
When he and Moiraine had returned from the Eye, he had been carrying her for half a day. Her legs had given out from under her without warning in the middle of the Blight and she had been unable to move. Where before she would have clung to every rotted branch and twisted trunk to drag herself on, and stubbornly clawed herself out on her stomach if forced, against all sense or reason, she had simply huddled on the ground, eyes closed, expression bleak. There had been not a word of protest uttered when he had lifted her into his arms to carry her back.
In the week since, she had not improved. He had stayed with her as much as he had been able to, only leaving to fetch things for her. At first she had argued against it, insisting that he do more important things, that they were not bonded now, and he was no longer obligated to assist her. He had ignored her, and after the first day, she had fallen silent. Not because she had changed her mind; simply, he was sure, because she was too exhausted to argue.
None of the healers he had consulted had made the slightest difference to her. Even Nynaeve had been taken aback by the state of her when she had finally consented to visit and examine her after Lan all but begged her. Eventually, after many examinations and concerned conferences, the best they could recommend had been bed rest. For the first time since he had known her, likely the first time in her life, Moiraine had heeded that suggestion. She had not left her chambers, or her bed, in almost a week.
This was so terrifyingly unlike the woman he knew. The woman who had been stubbornly outrunning trollocs on horseback as a deadly poison coursed through her veins, killing her, mere weeks ago. More than once he’d wondered if perhaps the Dark One had not somehow taken his Moiraine at the Eye and replaced her with this false shadow. Yet every time he met her eyes he knew that it was her. He saw in them their history reflected back at him, the life that they had shared together. That, and the mirror of the pain he felt every waking moment at the loss of their bond.
Light knew she was entitled to break, to utterly shatter, after what she had been through. He did not blame her for that at all. If she had been anyone else he would not have been surprised if they had refused to rise from bed for three months. But she was not anyone else. She was Moiraine.
As long as he had known her she had been a woman of action. A woman who did things. A woman with an almost compulsive need to do things. They had not stopped for twenty years. Not for rest, or pleasure, or grief. The Wheel had assigned them a task, and she would see it done, or see herself broken in the attempt. When she had faced obstacles, or grief, or pain, it had only increased her fervour and her drive, as she pushed through and ignored her own hurts. That had worried him, too, but it had been familiar, and something he had learned how to handle. Now she seemed content to simply sleep through what looked like the end of days and he had no idea how to respond.
Standing guard over her rooms was starting to feel more and more like he was standing vigil at her wake; nothing to protect now but a corpse and a memory.
