#trevanion

“He hesitated, remembering something Finnikin had said to him on their journey. That somehow, even in the worst of times, the tiniest fragments of good survive. It was the grip in which one held those fragments that counted.”

Rereading the Lumatere Chronicles and damn so many of the couples in this series had horrible first impressions like???? Finnikin was so pissed when Isaboe joined him and Topher and then even more pissed when he realized she was just as smart as him, Trevanion yelled at Beatriss for being incompetent and then she slapped him in the face when HE was incompetent, Froi called Quintana a whore when he was like 5 feet from her room, pretty sure Perri and Tesadora tried to kill each other at some point?? even more minor couples like August and Abian ("pity the man who shares her bed" sir that would be YOU) and Harker and Jorja ("he hated me for the first five years of our marriage!") And don't even get me started on Lucian and Phaedra

Trevanion: Are you going to tell me what the...exchange of words was about?

Finally Trevanion had him on the ground, a hand to his throat, his face an inch away so he could see the white fear in the boy's eyes. So he could whisper a word he had trained himself never to say again, for the sound of it brought hope and an ache so intense it could kill a man. And every lowlife who had ever entered this godforsaken prison knew that hope had no place in the mines of Sorel. 'Finnikin.' The boy stared in shock. He was half blinded by sweat and grime and blood, but for a moment he caught a good look at his enemy. Hair knotted, the stench of the rot that lived within it, potent. A face blackened by the dirt of the earth beneath them. 'Trust me.' And with that Trevanion's fist came down on his son.

The man before him now was a total stranger. Hair covered his face, dark and tangled in knots, spliced with gray. Trevanion's eyes had no light or warmth. Finnikin had to remind himself that this was the same man who had carried him as a child, high and safe, on his broad shoulders. The same man who had lain beside Lady Beatriss, gently kneading her fingers, whispering words in her ear that softened her face. 'Father?' It felt strange to speak the word.

Most nights she is restless. There are too many people to worry about, and she wonders how she will be able to make things right. How can she be someone other than Beatriss the Beautiful or Beatriss the Beloved? But then, just when she's about to lose hope, she remembers what you would whisper to her, Captain Trevanion. That she was Beatriss the Bold. Beatriss the Brave. To all others she was a fragile flower, but you would not let her be. She remembers the nights you lay with her when she worried about something happening to you. 'What would I do without you?' she would cry. Do you remember your response, Captain Trevanion? 'What needs to be done, Beatriss.'

“Finn, listen!" Trevanion said, his voice raw."I prayed to see you one more time. It's all I prayed for. Nothing more. And my prayers were answered. Go east, I'll lend them west." "We have a dilemma, then," Finnikin said fiercely. "Because I prayed that you would grow old and hold my children in your arms as you held me. My prayers have not been answered yet, Trevanion. So whose prayer is more worthy? Yours or mine?”