Chapter Text
Thom had hoped they would be able to rest after the Last Battle was over. That their burdens would be taken up by literally anyone else. Well, Moiraine clearly did not think it was the matter. He managed to drag her back to their tent at the end of the day after Rand’s funeral, but she was out of it the next morning without him even noticing. While his body, even enjoying the higher warder strength and stamina, dragged him down to sleep, Moiraine seemed to run on pure nerves still. He could feel her numbness and weariness that had crept deep into her boned. Before, Nynaeve might have been able to help, but now that she disappeared with Lan, Thom was on his own.
The Bond helped him locate her in one of the farther located tents, occupied by the yellow sisters, helping, with the bracelet firmly gripping her arm under a strange, almost colorless cloak. He watched her step from bed to bed, putting all her strength into healing whatever she could. Her only visible jewelry was the golden serpent ring, although it looked off on her slim finger and she kept reaching to adjust it. Not hers, he remembered, rather a piece that Egwene had brought for her the last time they saw each other. The cloak was not hers as well, but something borrowed clearly from someone that day. He had grown used, he realized, to seeing her wrapped in a thick but flowy blue shawl with distinctive fringe and Tar Valon Flame embroidered on the back. Now, after the Pit, a battered blue dress was probably the only thing she owned.
A yellow sister, complete with a well looking clothes, a shawl and, he noticed, a kesiera, came to Moiraine, but got dismissed fast. Noone else even approached her. Thom caught the eye of the sister and she nodded in greeting.
“Can I come in?” he mouthed.
He mentioned toward Moiraine and the yellow sister sighed and nodded again before going away to one of the other waiting men. He went to Moiraine, trying to feel her, to estimate her emotions, but even though he was really close, there was still nothing. All he could feel was how close to collapsing from exhaustion she was. Lan’s warning to keep her from loosing herself to healing ran heavy in his mind.
“Moiraine...” he said, before touching her arm. “Let’s go and rest.”
He knew it was a long shot, but he had to try at least. She worked still, changed the weave before putting her hands on another man’s head. Thom felt her strength fluctuate and moved to catch her just in time. Moiraine slumped just as the man took a full, healthy breath. Thom shook his head and scooped her up into his arms.
“Sorry to waste your time...” he started, turning to where he saw was at least one Yellow, but there was no reason to finish his intended question. “Thank you.”
The yellow sister stepped toward him already with a wet cloth and wiped Moiraine’s stained hands before tucking them in a way they would rest safely while he carried her.
“She’s done much good here today,” the Yellow said, wrapping the coat tight around Moiraine. “We’re short staffed here, most of capable sisters are at Mayene and as there is not enough space there for the wounded... Well, she needs rest now, a lot of it, but be sure to thank her for us.”
“I will remember.”
The Yellow checked on Moiraine one more time and Thom noticed her own dark circles under her tired sunken eyes. That sight stayed with him all the way to their tent, until he put Moiraine on their bed. “Servants of all” had always been an empty motto for him, a slogan used as a cover for all the Aes Sedai did to forward their own, somehow nefarious goal. Then Elaida has just reinforced that, pushing Morgase in her own chosen direction and then Owyn... Owyn’s death wrote it in stone. Lately he had to revise that stance. Could it be that the Aes Sedai were just like any other group – made up from all kinds of women, some of whom with less than good intention?
“Thom?” Moiraine mumbled, barely regaining consciousness.
“Sleep, woman,” he said and pulled a blanket over her, not ready yet to join her under it. “Everything is as it should be. You’ve helped the yellow sisters, they are grateful. Just go to sleep.”
He smiled, when she stilled again. Moiraine had been the one to crack his stone hard perceptions first. Her actions in the Two Rivers went beyond what was needed to get the young men to follow her. She did then what she had just done here – healed until she no longer could. She was no yellow, no dedicated to healing. And, what intrigued him even more, she was THE Moiraine. Damodred, that was, Blue Ajah, the woman that was rumored to be the Amyrlin’s choice for Cairhien throne at the time when she had been raised. Two characteristics that should have sent him the other way instantly and yet he felt pulled to her. And then she danced in Baerlon and he couldn’t shake that vision from his mind. She seemed profoundly different from what he expected her to be.
Thom couldn’t stop himself from touching her face with tenderness. Such a turn in his life. He wondered what Morgase would say to this.
“This would be more than funny,” he whispered to himself. “Thank the Wheel Elaida is not here anymore. That might be explosive.”
Thom chuckled and ran his hand over Moiraine’s covered form. It was different than before the Last Battle. Something had changed. At first she was just tired to the extreme, so she laid down loosely. Now, as she had sunk deeper and deeper into sleep, her body seemed to coil tight. If he didn’t know better, he would think she was rather prepared to cover herself from some kind of danger. Maybe he was overprotective. Moiraine was, after all, a force to be reckoned with and this was probably just looking to get more warmth, as the night brought a little chill that had crept even into their tent by now. Thom grabbed another blanket and threw it over Moiraine before moving to take off his dusty clothes and splashing some water on his face. He reached for soap and washcloth. Hot water would be better than icy, but he was used to some unpleasantness after years on the road. This would do. His hands went over his face. He would have to do something with the stubble in the morning. His wife preferred him clean shaven after all and he liked her happy.
He looked to her. By the Light, he was married and wondering again what his woman liked. Not because she demanded it, but because it was simply pleasant to make her smile. Last evening she touched him without any hint of annoyance at how scratchy he was, but he was still determined to shave properly from now on.
A whimper caught him unaware, when he pulled on his other shirt and was about to join his wife under the covers. Moiraine was shivering, her heart beating faster. Thom hurried and gathered her into his arms to calm her down and breathed a sigh of relief, when she stopped moving and making sounds. His happy mood was short lived, however. It disappeared, replaced by anxiousness, when he realized that she was not calm, but deadly numb and their bond was masked.
“Moiraine,” he said, “Wake up, Moiraine.”
He had to shake her a little before her breathing changed and she opened her eyes. They were still unfocused, however, and the bond was still masked.
“You’re out, woman, there is nothing to worry about.” He was happy, when she nodded slowly. He was not sure if his guess was good, but thank the Light it worked. “Open the bond, please.”
Her limbs were weak and she was clearly out of breath. No wonder, as her heart beat as if she had just run for miles. It seemed to almost jump out of her chest.
“What can I do?” he asked after a while.
“Nothing,” she said, putting a hand to his cheek. “Everything is better with you close.”
“Open the bond,” he pleaded again. He knew now something was really bad. “I want to know what it is, Moiraine. I want to know how to help.”
“There is nothing, Thom, my dearest, that is bad with me.”
She spoke with love and calm, but it failed to calm him, she was still hiding from him.
There it dawned on him.
“But there was, wasn’t there?” He asked. “Before.”
“Thom…” she said after a moment. Truly, there…”
He knew he asked the right question the moment her breath caught. He might have missed it, had he been just listening, but he was holding her close as well and noticed much subtler things than that. Moiraine wanted to say there was nothing, he was sure, but it seemed the Oath stopped her. She knew she was skirting around the issue and yet obviously counted on her wording to be vague enough.
“It was not… Well, mostly not real.” That, finally, the Oath allowed her to say. “There was nothing I didn’t allow to happen to me. I knew and I agreed.”
The detached attitude with which she made the last statement made him want to throw something. That Tower… Will it never let them be at peace? Will the Wheel never let them rest? Hadn’t they done enough?
“Peace, my dearest,” Moiraine said after turning enough to lay her head on his chest. “I’m here now. No reason to get agitated.”
“But you didn’t say that I don’t have to worry. That’s enough to get me upset, woman.”
“I’m here now.”
A simple statement that actually made him smile. At least at first. Then he dug deeper into her words. Something she could say without the Oath interfering. Something true enough and yet with no commitment that would hold her beyond what she could do.
“You’re here now,” he whispered and pulled her even closer, if it was possible, wishing to keep her there forever.
Moiraine melted into him, her small, too thin frame fitting into his arms with ease. He wished he could heal everything, that their bond might be an ultimate balm to her soul, but he was not naïve – it was impossible.
“Thom…” Moiraine whispered, still and wound tight in his arms.
He almost broke, feeling her silent tears soak his linen shirt.
“Yes, woman?”
“I will try to get better.”
He kissed the top of her head just before he started humming an old folk song that came to his mind almost unbidden. His throat was too tight to answer her, but he could do that at least.
Moiraine gradually loosened and fell back asleep. It was the first night like this, although Thom suspected it was far from the last. It was a wonder she kept peace this long. By the Wheel, he had had nightmares about the Tower after the brief time he had spent there. Matrim had lost his eye. The Creator only knew what Moiraine has been through. What had changed? Besides the Last Battle being done, that was. Moiraine had kept busy every day, seemed outwardly normal, even thriving. And yet, the first night he was actually looking forward to, turned out to be such. He had taken her back to their tent almost unconscious from exhaustion, close to burning out from overweaving. Was it her way of escaping what haunted her next in her dreams? He’d seen people, most brave, as one would say, struggle. Moiraine certainly had been through enough to give several old generals years of nightmares and there was probably more than he could ever think of in her life, starting with her childhood spent at the Sun Court.
“You sleep, woman,” he whispered into her hair. “I will care for you from now on. We will make it work.”