it is not adversity that kills [For Eileen]

[thecutdiamond]

When Rachel had forced her niece to go into the passageway, she had honestly expected it would be for the last time. The thought had been kept in the back of her mind so she could focus on helping those who needed it, on ushering the retreating Cards to the escape routes, but it lingered there. Came swimming to surface when she was finally cornered by the Chess Pieces.

She'd fought as hard as she could; she always did. But just like it had been with the Magician, there was only so much one woman could do.

She'd not expected to wake up. In time, she would come to wish she hadn't. But she held on to the hope that her niece would lead their people to victory, and so she kept fighting-- spat at her captors' questions, held her tongue under their torture while she could, screamed only curses when she finally couldn't. And so it went for what felt like an age.

Until one day, the Chess Pieces didn't come. She wasn't sure how long it was she was left alone, didn't know that it was because the war was over at last. Didn't actually wake up when the Cards come to free her and the others the Chess Set had taken prisoner.

When she starts to regain consciousness, the first thing that comes back is the feeling of pain-- and it feels odd, numbed and dull like she was feeling it from behind a veil. The second thing that comes back is her hearing-- and the sound of soft hospital monitors and gentle, distant murmurs greets her instead of harsh words.

It takes effort, but she finally, finally opens her eyes and realizes that she's home.

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When Eileen had been forced by her aunt to go into the passageway, she had honestly expected it would not be the last time she saw the older woman. It wasn't out of a childish faith in Rachel, out of a disbelief in the ability of another member of her family to fall. It had been simple necessity.

She couldn't worry about Rachel. She had to worry about the troops, about herself, about the men and women gasping for direction in the heat of the battle. Personal concern wasn't allowed.

It wasn't until the war was over, not until the last assassin had been carted off and the final body count tallied, that she allowed herself to shake, to breathe without confidence. To worry about the people she loved with her full heart who hadn't come marching in exhausted triumph back to their home.

There are a few beds she's been circulating between in her time not devoted to building a more solid structure to rebuild their world in. It's happenstance that the bed she's fallen asleep, entirely exhausted, against is Rachel's.