Work Text:
Reminders of home are supposed to be good. Liandrin has known that for decades, but the only real reminders she had left were her son and scars. Her son was buried days ago and she is walking and working with a torn soul.
Lanfear watches her fold the few blankets she’s brought from home with quiet concern. She would never admit she felt anything for the woman, it would only lead the woman to more danger, more pain. She had to keep it all hidden.
“Reminders of home?”
She speaks softly and Liandrin scoffs softly.
“If you can even call a blanket a reminder…”
Silence falls and Lanfear aches to protect her, make it better. She will, she promises herself, when it will be safe to do so, she will.