Work Text:
Don't read the last page, but I stay
When it's hard or it's wrong or we're making mistakes
Estinien found Nara on the floor of the hallway just outside her room, her body curled in a silhouette of despair, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She had her knees pulled to her chest and her face buried in her hands as long, dark hair tumbled loosely down her shoulders, hiding the tears streaming down her cheeks.
The sight of her, so utterly alone and broken in that dark corridor, tore at something still mending in Estinien's chest, and he felt a wave a sorrow and pity wash over him as he took in the scene.
He hadn't questioned Samir when she'd asked him to check up on her, which was unlike him, but somewhere deep down, it had felt natural to be asked. So much so that, when he looked back on the memory of that night in the months to come, he'd curse himself for not simply following Nara to begin with.
It was no secret to anyone that she'd been struggling since her return from the First, but it was one thing to hear about it in passing, and another to see it for himself. A pang of guilt struck him square in the gut, and he wondered how many nights like this she had endured alone, hiding this grief from the rest of them. The thought that he could have been there for her tied knots in his chest — he may not have known her very well, but he was no stranger to heartache.
"Nara," he whispered gently, approaching cautiously before kneeling beside her. She did not respond, but a slight twitch in her shoulder let him know she was at least vaguely aware of his presence there.
She didn't seem surprised when he reached out to her, nor did it seem to bother her when he lifted her off the floor, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her shoulders. Estinien swallowed back an unexpected surge of emotion as she let out another shuddered sob and buried her face in his chest, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt. She felt so small, so frail in the circle of his embrace that his breath caught in his throat, and he found himself holding her closer.
She didn't fight him or try to push him away when, after careful consideration, he let himself into her room and brought her inside. He set her down on the bed, careful not to jostle her more that was absolutely necessary before sitting beside her, watching silently as she curled into herself once again.
He had never been good with people, not even when he was younger. Words of encouragement and comfort had never come easily — they still didn't. So, he simply sat there, listening as her cries slowly subsided, racking his mind for something, anything he could do or say that would ease some small measure of her burden.
But there was no way to make any of this easier for her, was there? He knew that better than anyone.
Estinien was still lost in thought when he heard a small whisper, so quiet and broken, he wasn't entirely sure if it had come from her at all. "Will you stay here? I-I don't want to be alone..."
He looked at Nara then — really looked. He could see the fear in her wide eyes, the pain etched on her tear-strewn face, the way her whole body seemed to tremble with uncertainty as she awaited his response. In that moment, he realized he would have done anything she asked of him, just as long as he could keep her from hurting.
In his mind, only one answer existed: "Of course."
Nara nodded, the smallest hint of gratitude in her eyes as she turned to face away from him, pulling the blanket over her shoulders and tucking herself in.
Estinien stood, making his way towards the chair in the corner of the room and settling himself there. He would stay as close as he could, so she'd never have to go far to find him.
And, for the first time in a long time, he didn't want to be alone either.