#Siuan was the one she allowed herself to be happy with | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

skyholly · 6 months ago

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The best kept secret

Summary: What if Moiraine had a baby daughter she and Siuan were forced to leave to Anvaere to raise as her own?

moiraine/siuan

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Chapter 1. Guinevere

Ever since she was a young girl, Guinevere often found herself staring into the painting in the salon. It almost felt like looking into a mirror. The same brown hair, if anything a shade darker than her own, the same blue eyes, the same unreadable expression. She was lucky, her mother always told her, that she had taken after her aunt, for she had always been the more beautiful out of the two sisters. Yet Guinevere had no way of knowing if that was true, since she had seen her aunt but once in her nineteen years of life, and that encounter had happened so long ago they might as well be complete strangers. The only thing she held of hers was a small, sapphire stone that Moiraine had sent to Cairhien as a gift to her when she was born.

She was twelve years of age when her parents made the decision of sending her to Tár Valon, after years of showing channelling abilities. Little Guinevere had been so nervous about starting her training in the White Tower, leaving Cairhien, and her family behind.

“Do not worry sister,” her older brother, Barthanes, had told her in an attempt to calm her down, “Aunt Moiraine will be there. She’ll take care of you.”

Had Guinevere been any older, she would’ve been wise enough to doubt such promise, since her brother often found his judgement clouded by the love he held for a once present, loving aunt that was no more; but little naive Guinevere had grown up hearing his stories about their valiant, funny, immensely powerful aunt, so that unacquainted and mysterious figure she’d seen only in paintings that resembled her so much became her guardian during the years she spent within the Shining Walls, or so had Guinevere hoped. It would be an understatement to say she was disappointed.

Moiraine never set foot in the Tower during the years Guinevere spent training, as she clung to the little blue stone that reminded her she once had cared for her. Guinevere knew the Blues spent lots of time outside the Tower, gathering information and strengthening their webs, but she didn’t know of another Aes Sedai who walked the halls so infrequently as her aunt, and she never built up enough courage to ask her superiors about her.

It was by chance one day that she found out the older woman had in fact visited the Tower every couple of years, but had simply never bothered to look for her, to meet her. That revelation changed everything she used to believe about the older Aes Sedai. Guinevere didn’t allow herself to feel hurt, shut her pain away, choosing instead to match Moiraine’s indifference. She put any thoughts of her aunt aside, and focused on her studies at the White Tower. It soon became apparent she wasn’t as powerful as she was skillful and efficient, tremendously so, with an almost unmatched Talent for Healing, which managed to let her become a full Aes Sedai in under six years. By the time it came to choosing her Ajah, Moiraine was mostly out of her mind, and the only thing she looked forward to was coming back home to her family.

She didn’t feel upset when her aunt failed to show up when she predictably chose Yellow as the colour of her shawl, she expected it as much, for she had abandoned the idea of meeting her a long time ago. She spoke with the leader of her Ajah, the First Weaver, and due to her young age she was allowed to spend half the year pursuing her studies in Tár Valon and the other half in Cairhien, helping out in the Sanitarium, aiding anyone in need. That’s what she did during her first year as an Aes Sedai; and for the most of it, she was happy about it. As much as she enjoyed learning, studying the intricate weaves her superiors were able to channel, it always was a bittersweet feeling, leaving home with the prospect of spending six months within those Shining Walls, where everyone turned around for a second look at her, because they still couldn’t believe the uncanny resemblance she had to her aunt. Guinevere started to believe it was more of a curse than a blessing, as her mother wanted her to believe.

Guinevere was staring deeply into the portrait, all of her bags spread at her feet, when her mother walked into the room. The girl didn’t even hear the older woman entering the room, entranced as she was. She wasn’t staring completely in awe, as she once used to, but with a hint of resentment as well.

“The carriage is ready, darling.” Anvaere announced, stilling at the sight of the girl, who was aimlessly gazing at the painting in the wall. She ought to have gotten rid of that portrait long ago; it was too big a distraction, too big a risk for Guinevere. She should’ve threw it away the moment she started asking questions. Who is she? Why does she look so much like me? Where is she?

“I’ll be right there, mother.” Guinevere said, allowing herself one more second of staring before turning her gaze away from the picture and smiling at the woman in front of her, as Johnas picked up her bags and carried them outside. “I’ll miss you. And tell Barthanes I’ll miss him too. Dearly.”

“I’ll miss you too, dearest.” Her mother answered, embracing her, and leaving a kiss on the girl’s temple. On her daughter’s temple. That is what she had become the second Moiraine placed the whimpering baby in her arms, and that is what she would always be to her, no matter which secrets the Light forbade ever came out. Her daughter. “Don’t forget to write, regularly, alright?”

“Oh, I’ll send you so many letters you’ll get sick of them, I promise.” She giggled, stepping into the carriage. “You’ll need to get a second pair of eyes just to get through them all!”

Good weather and clear roads made for a swift and quiet travel and Guinevere found herself back in Tár Valon quicker than she would’ve imagined. She was received by Lowie, her best friend and an Aes Sedai from the Green Ajah, upon her arrival. She was a tall, charming girl with a carefree personality and eyes that exuded both braveness and kindness, and, most importantly, she was her same very young age. Some Aes Sedai found it weird, almost scandalous, that they were so close even though they were from different Ajahs, but being the two youngest ones training in the Tower had bonded them together tight enough to neglect the place’s principles.

“Winnie!” The red haired girl yelled, throwing herself onto her. Guinevere instantly stiffed at her touch, before easing into her embrace. “Hi Lowie,” she smiled back, “long time no see.”

“You have no idea of the things you’ve missed.” Lowie gasped, dramatically emphasising words, as she helped her friend carry her bags.

Guinevere held back a small smile as she followed the girl into her abandoned chambers. She didn’t really care much for the Tower’s politics and preferred to focus on her duties and studies, but she knew how much her friend loved to gossip. “Then please, fill me in,” she said with a grin, grabbing her friend’s arm and pulling her down onto the bed. A cloud of dust rose around them as they landed.

“Burn me, you really need to come here more often.”

With Lowie by her side and a thousand tasks a day to get done, Guinevere eased into her normal routine once again, and wearisome days became tedious weeks which became monotonous months. Everything was alright. That was until Lowie barged into her room one drowsy afternoon, eyes wide as plates and a hand resting on her agitated chest.

"What is it?" Guinevere asked, opening her eyes. She had a shift at the infirmary that night and was trying to get some rest, but she tensed at the sight of her friend, all the fatigue leaving her body. "Rowena?"

"They’re bringing the False Dragon into the city..." her friend said, breathing heavily.

Guinevere held back a bitter smile. “And?” She asked, about to get mad at her friend for disturbing her with such nonsense.

Lowie slowly walked towards her, and sat alongside her in the bed, placing a hand on her shoulder. “... Gwen, your aunt is here, she’s been called for an audience in the Hall.”

Guinevere’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her aunt, but she didn’t let that show on her face. “I’m far too busy to care about any of those things, Lowie,” she remarked, with a pinch of resentment in her voice. The Light knew she had more important duties to attend to than some mad man and a woman she’s never seen in her life, “besides, I have twelve hours duties at the infirmary, starting tonight.”

Rowena stared at her friend, already used to her choosing indifference as her preferred shield against pain, but didn’t comment on it. The few times they discussed such topics, it had never ended well.

“Then at least let me accompany you to the infirmary,” Lowie begged, changing the subject, “maybe we’ll get to see Logain on our way there.”

“Fine,” Guinevere sighed, reluctantly standing up and putting on some clothes. A simple yellow dress and a comfortable, just the right amount of worn shoes. “I guess we can try that. Though I doubt we can even get a glimpse of him, the streets ought to be crammed.” But her complaints didn’t matter to Lowie, who grabbed her friend’s hand and led her outside the Tower into the busy streets of the city. Guinevere had seen the city in frenzies before, whether it was due to the Daughter-Heir visiting the tower or Queen Morgase herself, but she’d never seen the city bustling the way it did that day.

The two girls started pushing themselves toward the edge of the crowd so Lowie could get a good look at the False Dragon. “Winnie, there he is!” She squealed, but her voice got lost in a chorus of screams. Guinevere tried tiptoeing to get a better sight of him, but something else entirely caught her attention. Up there in one of the buildings facing the main street, two boys were sitting on the ledge of a window on the second floor, smiling down at all the commotion below them. They were both around her age, but it was the red-haired one who captured her eye. He seemed tall, had a lean build, and was wearing a blue shirt, with a heron-marked sword around his hips. He looked down to scan the streets and accidentally locked eyes with her.

Guinevere felt the air catch in her throat, and time seemed to stand still. Those blue eyes, the curve of his smile, the arch of his nose. She’d never met that boy, but somehow she knew him. It felt as if she’d always known him, impossible as it was. Like she had met him in a dream she’d never actually dreamt. She couldn’t draw her gaze away from him, hard as she tried, and neither could he; for a moment, it felt as if he were on the brink of jumping down to the street to get to her, and with that image alone, she felt compelled to run across the mob just to meet him. The intensity of such a thought scared her so much she turned around and hurried toward the infirmary, trying not to dwell on how the face of a stranger could somehow be so familiar to her.

The place was immersed in chaos, there were a dozen different patients in need of care, and very few yellow sisters to aid them.

“Guinevere.” She was commanded by a fellow sister, Myria, a quiet, reserved, and to the point kind of woman. “There are two who need your help, they’re in that room at the back, and be discreet about it. Come back as soon as you’re done with them, we’re expecting a particularly busy night. It’s a matter of time before all this celebration turns into trouble.”

“Discreet?” Guinevere thought, perplexed. “I will, sister.” She said nonetheless, and walked towards the almost hidden room across a series of sinuous hallways. She silently opened the door, and immediately understood the Aes Sedai’s orders. It was obvious to anyone’s eye that the two kids waiting in the room weren’t from Tár Valon, and with just a quick glance at their wounds, she could tell they had come across… an unusual kind of trouble. The girl, who she guessed was approximately her own age, had little more than bruises and some cuts around her face, but the man laying almost unconscious in the bed had some terrible lacerations all over his naked back.

“Hello, my name is Guinevere,” she introduced herself, making her way towards them, “I’ll be healing you both today. Could you tell me what happened?” She asked the girl, as she pointed with her head towards the boy.

“I-I’m Egwene,” the girl stuttered, “and this is Perrin. We had an unfortunate… encounter with some Whitecloaks I’m afraid.”

“I see.” Guinevere nodded, allowing herself to scan the girl one more time before turning her attention towards the man named Perrin, who had more urgent wounds to attend to. She kneeled beside the cot and delicately ran her fingers along his back, feeling the degree of mangling and tearing of the skin. It was the work of a blade that’d caused such abrasions. She closed her eyes and calmly filled her lungs with air, as she moved her hands in complex motions, pulling on intricate, twisting weaves that soon covered his body and began healing his injuries. The young man started grunting, his whole body shaking, as Healing could be a painful experience at times, and so Guinevere softly took him by the arm, closed her eyes, and drove his heart rate down enough so that he drifted into a peaceful, painless, slumber. That was a Talent of hers. At first everyone assumed it was Cardiac Arrest, but soon enough she found out she could not only stop a man’s heart, but manipulate heart rates up and down as she pleased.

“What did you do?!” Egwene asked, worried about her friend, and yet with a begrudging hint of curiosity in her voice, looking at her hands as if she were trying to decipher which particular movements had pulled on them.

“I just helped calm him down.” Guinevere replied, with a sober expression on her face. Using such Talent took a great deal of focus and serenity, for the consequences of using it hastily could have mortal consequences. “He’ll be alright,” she added, watching the weaves clear his back from any visible trauma, “but he’ll need lots of rest, and food, once he wakes up. Healing draws on a lot of energy.” She explained, feeling a bit lightheaded herself.

“Thank you,” the girl sighed, taking him by the hand, as if checking he was indeed away from harm, “I was so preoccupied.”

“I can imagine,” Guinevere said, finally drawing her attention towards her. There was something special about the girl, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. “Do you want me to heal these?” She asked her, tenderly brushing her fingers against the bruises on her face. “They seem painful. And it won’t hurt as much as it hurt him.”

Egwene stared at her for a moment, and then slowly nodded, holding back tears. Damn those barbaric, fundamentalists Whitecloacks. Attacking her sisters was already unforgivable, but torturing townspeople as well? And the worse of it, they excused all of their actions with the facade of walking in the Light. Guinevere pursed her lips, and pulled on some simpler weaves to heal her. And then it became obvious. The way her body eased into the One Power, how easy she embraced her Healing, how fast her bruising disappeared, how painless it seemed for her. She was no regular townswoman.

“You can channel.” Guinevere suddenly found herself mumbling under her breath. “Why are you here? Who brought you two here?” She asked, and she knew it was incautious of her, and that she was neglecting direct orders, but she didn’t seem able to get a hold of her tongue.

Egwene shifted uncomfortably in her place, as if deciding on whether to tell her, whether she deemed her trustworthy or not. Finally, she opted for the first one. “We’re looking for Moiraine.” She said with boldness, as if talking about an old friend, before regaining awareness of who she was talking to. “T-That is, Moiraine Sedai, of course. Is she here, in the Tower?”

Had Guinevere felt surprised by the mention of the older Aes Sedai, she didn’t let it show on her face. Of course I was asked to be discreet, they’re Moiraine’s. She couldn’t help but to leapt into an activity she thought long forgotten: trying to make sense of her aunt’s absence from the Tower. “Is this what she’s been doing this whole time? Recruiting girls with the ability to channel?” But that wouldn’t explain the boy, or the fact that she hadn’t brought any girl in the years Guinevere spent training. “How do you know Moiraine?” She inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“We travelled all the way here with her,” Egwene was quick to answer, fearing the Yellow Sister didn’t believe their connection with the elusive Aes Sedai, “she seeked us. We got separated on the way here, but if Moiraine is here she should be expecting us, and rather keenly I believe. If there’s a way for you to let her know we are here, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Mmh.” Guinevere hummed, turning to face the door. Was that bitterness showing on her face? Jealousy, perhaps? “You’ll both be fine,” she said, over her shoulder, “other sisters should come up to check on you regularly, and make sure to eat, you’ll find lots of food in the cabinet to your left.”

“T-thank you.” Egwene said, but Guinevere was halfway through the door already. She spent the rest of the night getting on with her tasks as if nothing had happened, ignoring the pain on her chest, the feeling of nausea on her stomach.

That night, the nightmare found her in her sleep once again.

Guinevere seldomly dreamt, but whenever she did, it was always the same nightmare, ever since she could remember: three little kids screaming in agony, and she couldn’t save them. In the dream they were hers, and they kept on calling for her, for their mother, but Guinevere couldn’t save them. Never.

She woke up with a scream stuck in her throat, the children’s screeches still ringing in her ears, heart pounding as if it were about to break through her chest, and immediately brought a hand to her forehead, in a clinical motion. “No fever,” she thought, “just a nightmare.” Guinevere leaned down towards her pillow once again, closing her eyes while trying to fix her breathing. “Just a nightmare.” She wished she would have her little music box by her side, it always helped calm her down, but she had always been too afraid of taking it out of Caihrien, she couldn’t risk losing it since it didn’t even belong to her.

Those nightmares were the reason she eluded sleep so much, often preferring to have Lowie remove her fatigue so she could get on with her duties. She looked up towards the window, slightly flinching her eyes at the pale ray of sunshine that peaked through the glass, and decided that if she wouldn’t fall back asleep, she might as well get ready for the day. She put on some simple clothes, combed her hair into a practical bun, and left her room. She walked across the corridor that led into the Hall of the Tower, and by the amount of both Aes Sedai and Warders that were anxiously waiting just outside the enormous door she could only assume Logain’s trial was taking place inside. She stopped for a moment, meditating on whether she wanted to stick around for the outcome or not, but the unwavering stare of one of the Warders on her made her lean for the latter.

He was a tall, brooding man, holding a guarded stance, with his long hair pulled away from his face, held back by a leather headband. His deep brown eyes and stoic face were fixed on her, which made her feel unnerved. She subtly glanced at his swords, at his clothes, at his almost royal demeanour he so obviously tried to hide, and the pieces began to fall together. There was only one warder in the world who could master such a stance, who could claim the title of Lord of the Seven Towers, the uncrowned king of Malkier. Al’Lan Mandragoran. He was Moiraine’s Warder. Which meant her aunt was most probably in there as well. The thought of Moiraine being so close, yet still so distant, gnawed at her.

The doors suddenly opened, and a figure dressed in royal blue came rushing out of them. Guinevere didn’t need to look twice to know who it was, she felt it, like a weave of electric, yet gentle power reaching her side. She was torn between turning around and forcing her eyesight steady, finally looking at her, and running as far as she could from her. Suddenly, she felt another gaze fall upon her, a much too heavy one, and she winced on the spot, as she started backing away, leaving the Tower, absentmindedly bumping against random citizens on her way towards the infirmary.

She avoided sleep that night. In fact, she took every shift available, night and day, and it wasn’t until two full days after the audience had taken place that she returned to the Tower. By that time her aunt was gone, once again.

“She’s been exiled,” Lowie explained to her, theatrically placing a hand over her heart, as Guinevere plummeted into bed, “it was awful. I wasn’t inside the Hall, but even in the corridor we all had to turn our backs to her. I don’t think she’ll ever be able to return.”

“Mmh.” Guinevere hummed, forcing her eyes shut. She couldn’t truly bring herself not to care about that, but she tried her best. “One more month, and you can get home. One month. And you can reunite with your family, your pianoforte, your paintings. One more month.” And so she endured that month, trying not to panic at the whispers of Moiraine travelling with a male channeler, of Moiraine searching for the Dragon Reborn, of Moiraine being a Darkfriend, of Moiraine presumably having died at Fal Dara.

She had already finished packing her bags, and was ready to head home, when someone knocked at her door.

“Yes?” Guinevere asked, greeting whoever was outside. To her surprise, it was the girl she’d healed some time ago, the one who had been looking for Moiraine. “Egwene?” She asked, confused.

“Guinevere Sedai,” the girl saluted her, bowing her head. Guinevere tilted her head to get a better look at her, and was happy to see her on a plain, white dress.

“I see you’ve become a Novice,” she commented, a genuine smile on her face, “that’s good. I was expecting you’d join the Tower, eventually.”

“Yes, Guinevere Sedai—

“Please, just call me Gwen.”

“Alright… Gwen,” she added, still slightly unsure, “it's been almost a month since I’ve signed the books of Novices.”

“Oh.” Guinevere lowered her gaze to her feet, ashamed. “I’m sorry, I haven’t been paying that much attention to the events of the Tower.”

Egwene directed a sympathetic smile towards her, while anxiously fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. “Yes, anyhow,” the girl shifted uncomfortably on her spot, “I was sent here to give you a message.”

“And what could that message be?” She asked, amused.

Egwene cleared her throat, placing her hands over her skirts and then pulling them back, as if she didn’t know what to do with them. “The Amyrlin is expecting you,” she finally exhaled, “in her chambers.”

“I see.” Guinevere replied, her smile pursing into a thin line, perplexed as she wondered what could the Amyrlin possibly want to discuss with her, only that it couldn’t be good. Most of the women in the Tower were probably already commenting on it. Egwene nodded reluctantly, and turned to walk away, but Guinevere stopped her.

“Wait,” she said, delicately touching the girl’s shoulder, turning her around, “I have a question for you, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Anything.”

“What happened to your friend? And why aren’t you with Moiraine anymore? I’ve heard some rumours about the Borderlands and problems there—

Egwene held her gaze, soft and apprehensive, before lowering her head. “I don’t think I can talk about it.”

“My last name is Damodred,” Guinevere rushed to confess, grabbing the blue stone attached to her necklace from below her shirt to show it to her, as if to prove her statement, “Moiraine is my aunt. Please, I’m just concerned.” Well, that’s not entirely a lie. I am concerned for her. I am simply more concerned about what she’s been up to all this time. “And I couldn’t lie, even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, I do believe you’re her niece,” Egwene said, studying her face, “you look just like her, just younger. But I- I really think I can’t talk about it, Moiraine was very clear about that.”

“Look, Egwene” Guinevere said, approaching the girl, tenderly grabbing the girl’s hands. Had Egwene been more trained in the One Power, she would’ve been able to notice the warmth that suddenly spread through her body, easing her into Guinevere’s touch, loosening her tongue. She’d promised to never use such Talent, she’d be expelled from the Tower if anyone ever found out she did, and she truly felt terrible about doing it to Egwene, but she really was desperate. “Whatever she’s said to you, whatever you’ve done with her, whatever… secret she’s asked you to keep, it’s safe with me. I’d never do anything that hurt her.”

Egwene placidly smiled at her, “it’s a long story,” she said, timidly giggling, her cheeks flushing, but still determined not to tell her. It seems I’ve underestimated how powerful she is.

“Then it’s a good thing the Amyrlin chambers are so far away, isn’t it?” Guinevere studied Egwene's face, seeing a flicker of hesitation cross her eyes. Guinevere tightened her grip on the girl’s hand, as she finally nodded, seemingly accepting Guinevere’s faux sincerity. She intertwined their arms, and together, they walked down the long corridors of the White Tower.

“It started in the Two Rivers,” Egwene began quietly, as they passed a group of novices practising their weaves. “Moiraine came to our village. She was looking for someone... someone who could be the Dragon Reborn. There were five of us who could channel or had some connection to the One Power. Trollocs and other monsters were following us, and she said we needed to get to Tár Valon; we had some troubles getting here, but then, when we finally arrived, something changed. I don’t know… she said an opportunity to defeat the Dark One had arisen, and suddenly she was taking us to Fal Dara, to the Eye of the World.”

Guinevere kept an impassive expression on her face, impossible as it felt, as the world seemed to shift beneath her feet. Finally, she’d gotten some answers. It made so much sense. All those years… Moiraine had been looking for the Dragon Reborn. But why? Why didn’t she look for me the few times she’d return to the Tower?

“You went through the Blight?” Guinevere asked, shocked. Egwene eagerly nodded at her. “And what happened there?”

“I-I don’t know.” The girl said, eyes full of tears too stubborn to actually fall through her cheeks. “We were all supposed to face the Eye of the World together, but… I don’t know. One morning Moiraine and one of the boys had left, and then she came back alone, and refused to talk to us about what had happened there. Moiraine was… different, somehow, I couldn’t tell you what. She ordered Nynaeve and me to come here to become novices, and I don’t know exactly what she told Perrin, but he stayed at Fal Dara. She accompanied us here halfway and then parted ways, and I haven’t heard from her or Lan ever since.”

“I’m so sorry about your friend.” Guinevere said, voice laced with genuine compassion.

“Thank you, Gwen.” Egwene had stopped in her tracks, fixing her gaze on her, brushing a tear off her face. Guinevere felt terrible. One more thing. One more thing and you let her go.

“Egwene,” she said, resuming their walk, “do you happen to know why Moiraine knew she had to look for all of you?”

Egwene had opened her mouth to respond, but a voice in front of them interrupted them. “Guinevere Sedai, the Amyrlin has been expecting you.” A thin, nearly as tall as a man, very beautiful woman was standing stiffly in front of a big, resplendent pair of doors. They’d reached the Amyrlin’s chambers.

“Of course, Leane Sedai.” Guinevere said, bowing her head, showing the Keeper of the Chronicles the respect she deserved. She swiftly turned towards Egwene, finally letting go of her arm, praying the superior in front of her didn’t notice the young girl’s body limping the slightest, and confusion taking over her expression.

“Thank you, Egwene, for accompanying me here. I’ll be gone for some months now, but I’ll make sure to help in anything I can once I get back. I wish you nothing but luck on your training.”

The girl clumsily bowed to her, “I need to go, the Mistress of Novices is most probably looking for me,” and continued with her walk, disoriented. It’ll pass. She’ll be back to normal before anyone notices it. It’ll be like it never happened. I had to do it. There are no rules that prevent an Aes Sedai from lying to herself.

Guinevere turned towards the stoic looking woman standing in front of her. “The Amyrlin will see you now.”

Guinevere carefully adjusted her dress, before stepping inside the room. There, sitting on a cream coloured sofa, before a small table, was the Amyrlin Seat.

“You summoned me, Mother?” Guinevere asked, bowing deeply. She then lifted her gaze, locking eyes with the older woman. With her luminous brown eyes, sharp as ever, yet laced with a subtle hint of weakness, and nostalgia.

“Yes, Guinevere. Please, sit.” She said, gesturing towards the armchair in front of her.

Guinevere complied, noting the uncharacteristic tension in Siuan’s posture. The Amyrlin was not known for her softness, but there was something different today, something personal.

The older woman stared at her expectantly, as if waiting for the young girl to confess first, but despite Guinevere’s distaste for credo, she knew how to play the game. Speak first, lose the high ground.

“You must be wondering why I called you in here.” Siuan finally said, her lips turning into a gentle smile.

“I am, Mother,” she said, hesitantly nodding.

“We can lose the honorifics, for today at least,” the woman commented, crossing one leg over the other, as she reclined into the armchair’s cushions, encouraging the girl to get comfortable as well. But Guinevere was far too anxious for that. She remained still, her back straight and hands rigidly intertwined over her lap. Why am I here? “I have a favour to ask of you, Guinevere.”

She gulped. What? What could the Amyrlin Seat, a tremendously powerful Aes Sedai, who was once Blue herself, need of her? A teenage girl that avoided secrets, rumours and Tower’s politics like the plague? “A- A favour, Mother?”

“Siuan.” The woman’s smile widened, as she drew closer to her.

Guinevere blinked, still puzzled at the whole situation. “Siuan,” she echoed the older woman, “what is it that you need from me?”

“It’s not really what I need from you,” the Amyrlin explained, her pacing slow, “but what I need from your last name. I gather you’re on your way home.”

“I am, I was about to leave the Tower when you called for me.”

“Cairhien, that’s right?”

“Yes.”

Siuan Sanche pursed her lips, staring intensely into her, and opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it, as if she wasn’t sure she actually wanted to ask such a question. “Have you heard from Moiraine this past month?” She then asked, bluntly.

Guinevere felt the temperature of the room drop, her eyes slightly narrowing at the mention of her aunt. “No.” She replied, dryly, as she lowered her gaze towards the rug.

Her sudden change in demeanour didn’t go unnoticed by the older woman, who studied Guinevere’s face intensely, searching for what lay underneath. “You are angry at her.” She commented, sadness suddenly pouring into her eyes.

Guinevere cleared her throat. “My feelings towards Moiraine Sedai are unbiased.”

“You shouldn’t resent your aunt for her absence, Guinevere.”

“And yet you exiled her for it.” How weird. She knew Siuan’s position as the Amyrlin grew weaker each day, but she couldn’t possibly imagine her feeling compelled into doing something she didn’t feel was right. She didn’t choose to exile Moiraine?. Maybe she was overrating her power. She was, after all, asking a teenage girl for help.

Siuan started blinking in rapid motions, awkwardly resting her back against the armchair’s splat. She knew when she had been led into a corner. She’s so much like her mother, the woman thought, not being able to stop her mouth from turning into a sly grin, stubborn, and modestly yet fiercely witty. “I have a task for you.”

“Whatever you need, Mother.”

“If you hear from Moiraine, let me know.”

Guinevere smirked back at the woman. “Shouldn’t Moiraine be the one expecting to hear from you?” She found her mouth saying, acting quicker than her brain, something that happened more often than she liked. The young girl knew she was crossing a line, she knew as much, but something told her the older woman wouldn’t reprimand her. As a matter of fact, she suspected she actually enjoyed it. But perhaps she had underestimated Siuan’s temper.

She drew her smile back, and pursed her lips into a thin line. “That’ll be all, Daughter.”

Guinevere hastily stood up, and bowed her head. “Mother.” She turned to leave, and as she was reaching for the doorknob, she heard the Amyrlin’s voice speak to her.

“Oh, and Guinevere? Trust no one else. No intermediates.”

A flicker of diversion crossed Guinevere’s eyes. Oh, did she have some puzzles to put together. “Of course, Mother.”

Guinevere let out a sigh of relief when Johnas opened the door to her, and finally she was back home. She shook the older man’s hand, as she made her way inside the house. “It’s good to have you back, little lady.”

“Gwen?” She heard a man’s voice come from across the hall. “Barthanes?” She asked, breaking into a run. She hastily opened the door to the dining room, and couldn’t help but to squeal in excitement. “Oh, it’s been so long, brother.” She smiled, as he embraced her.

“I’ve missed you too, little sister.” He agreed, with a laugh. “Would you care for some tea? I’m afraid I have some business to attend to, letters and whatnot, but I can manage them while getting on with you.” He said, sitting back down at the breakfast table. “I trust your journey was uneventful?”

“Uneventful and rapid,” Guinevere replied, taking a seat opposite him. She watched as he deftly opened a letter, his eyes scanning the contents before setting it aside. “How have things been here?”

“Quiet,” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Mother has been busy with her social circles, and the city remains as it always has—full of whispers.”

Guinevere nodded, her thoughts drifting back to the Tower, to the unfamiliar faces she had healed, and the fleeting encounters that had stirred something within her. “And what of the Sun Palace? Any news from the court?”

Barthanes paused, folding his hands over the table. “Rumors, mostly. There's talk of unrest in the Borderlands, and whispers of the Dragon Reborn.” At the mention of such a character, he sent a curious look her way. “Nothing you haven’t most probably heard of already within the Tower.”

She had indeed, but nonetheless the mention of the Dragon Reborn sent a shiver down her spine. The face of that boy she’d seen on Tár Valon suddenly popped into her mind. “Do you believe it?” she asked quietly, meeting her brother's gaze. “That the Dragon has been reborn?”

Her brother shifted uneasily on his seat, wetting his lips. “I truly don’t have time to dwell on such matters, sister.” He forced his lips into a stiff smile, as he started handling another envelope. “But what do you believe?” He inquired, with seeming indifference, but she could tell it was only a facade. She could sense his heart rate getting higher and higher. “What is it being said in the Tower anyway?” He added, shrugging his shoulders.

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied, rather dryly, uncomfortable with where the conversation had led them, “I don’t like involving myself in such talks. Besides, even if I did know something, I wouldn’t be allowed to talk to you about it.”

“Not even to your dear older brother?” He grinned, sending a charming smile her way, but she remained serious. “Anyway,” Barthanes stood up, picking up a stack of letters, “I’m afraid I must go, sister. Planning a wedding is much more work than you’d ever imagine.”

She directed her brother a little smile before he left the room, leaving her alone, a waterfall of thoughts pouring into her mind. That’s the thing about Cairhien. Hard as you might try to avoid them, whispers and rumours always find a way of getting to you.

Guinevere woke up early the next morning, had a quick breakfast, and ran towards the Sanatorium. She rushed through the Cairhien streets swiftly and with ease, her hometown’s display burned into her memory.

She entered the structure, joyfully greeting the guard standing before the door, and started making her way through the halls. That’s when she saw him.

The boy from Tár Valon.

His hair was as red as she remembered, but short almost to his scalp. He stood taller than she’d imagined, at least a foot taller than her. And his face… the same face that had both tormented and bewitched her ever since she saw him, months ago.

They locked gazes, eyes widening in surprise at finding each other, the same intense feeling flooding through their veins, but this time, no one ran away, quite the contrary. Guinevere started trotting towards him, and he did the same, until they were but inches away from each other.

“You’re the girl from Tár Valon,” he gasped, out of breath.

“I-I guess I am.” She stuttered, finding herself suddenly overwhelmed by his presence. It felt so weird, meeting someone you’ve somehow known all your life for the first time.

“I’m Rand.” He said, introducing himself, as he extended a hand towards her.

“I’m Guinevere.” She replied, carefully slipping her hand into his.

He gently closed his palm over hers, his skin warm and soft under his touch. “Hello, Guinevere.” He murmured, a tender smile on his face.

“Hello, Rand.” She replied, shyly returning his smile. They remained like that, hands locked into each other, until she stepped a foot back, clearing her throat.

“What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?” Guinevere inquired, furrowing her brows. She’d never seen him in Cairhien before, she was sure of that.

“I work here.” He explained, letting his arms fall against his body. “It was a last-minute decision.”

“Oh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’ve lived in Cairhien my whole life.” She replied, placing a hand against her chest.

He softly laughed at that. “I meant in the Sanatorium.”

“Ah,” she giggled, feeling her cheeks flush, “I work here as well. I mean, I help here,” she added, raising her left hand, where a ring with a small yellow stone rested in her middle finger, “I heal people. Or at least, I try my best.”

Slight and wary as it was, Guinevere noticed the hint of anger, and fright, that crossed the boy’s eyes at the sight of her ring. “You don’t like Aes Sedai?”

Rand hesitated. “I respect Aes Sedai.”

“That wasn’t my question.” She smiled.

“I’m just cautious of them.”

Guinevere stood straight, and folded her hands over her chest, as her smile turned into a grimace. “I’m afraid I’d be lying if I said you shouldn’t be.”

They spent the following weeks working in the same place, and everyday their bond both grew stronger, and a genuine, and amusing friendship started to flourish between the two. Guinevere always had a witty, lively response to all of his foolish, friendly banter. He’d made a habit out of walking her home every day after their duties were done, and the journey always fell short for their discussions, so much so that sometimes they walked straight past her house, and made some more rounds, just so they could keep on each other’s company. He always talked about his home, his family, his friends, but for some reason he never mentioned names.Still, she never commented on it. She talked about her hobbies in music and painting, and her job as a healer, her duty towards the Tower.

“I enjoy it, for the most of it.” She explained one day, as they made their way towards her house. “I love the healing part, at least, I like helping people. It’s all the current principles, and politics I despise— not that I think them inconsequential, it’s simply… out of my understanding. All this rivalry between the different Ajah, it makes no sense to me. I know they’re due to historical conflicts, but why do we let the past control us that much? I don’t know, I just think the Tower would work better without all the secrecy. To both our sisters and regular townsfolk, of course.”

“Most regular townsfolk despise the lot of you,” he commented, “Cairhien is like another world, too close to Tár Valon to notice it, but the farther you get from the city, the stronger the fear of Aes Sedai becomes.”

“And that’s terrible!” Guinevere explained, aggrieved. “We should be the servants of all. The ones who help the world become a better place, for everyone alike. And yet it seems that as of lately we serve no one but ourselves.” She sighed, as they reached her house. Guinevere stopped in front of the door, expectantly looking at him. Everyday he accompanied her home, and yet he always refused to stay for a cup of tea.

She knew he lived in the Foregate, and she knew firsthand how harsh it could get there, as she often liked to wander around it, aiding anyone who accepted her help, and so she had often offered Rand a warm bath, a warm meal, a warm bed, if he needed. But he had always refused all of it. That day he looked particularly shabby, and she could see traces of ash on parts of his skin and clothes.

“Well,” he said, pursing his lips into a thin smile, “have a good night, Gwen.”

“Wait!” She exclaimed, grabbing him from his arm before he could turn around. A splash of red started to paint her cheeks a burgundy colour, as she hadn’t planned on being so abrupt. She moved backwards, rising to his height as she settled on the first step of the stairs that led to her door. “Just… Why don’t you come in, for a cup of tea? I could lend you that book we were talking about.”

He hesitated, lowering his gaze, and yet not letting go of her arm. “I-I can’t, Gwen.”

“Why?” She breathed out. “If it’s my family you’re concerned about— they’re perfectly pleasant to be around. And my mother would be thrilled to have you over, maybe offer you a better place to stay—

“There’s someone else, Gwen.” He interrupted her, finally meeting her eyes, as sadness and regret took over his. “There’s this woman—

“Oh.” She couldn’t help but sigh, angry at her voice for betraying her by sounding so disappointed. Of course there’s another girl. She motioned to take her hand away, but that only caused to tighten his grip on hers. He took a step closer to her, mouths one breath away from one another.

“It’s not like that,” he muttered, cursing under his breath, “burn me, it’s difficult to explain, I-I just owe her so much, I-I can’t… you…

“It’s fine, Rand.” Guinevere murmured, as she softly caressed the palm of his hand. “I understand.”

“You do?” He asked, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Of course I do. Rand, I like being your friend,” she admitted, as a smile forced dimples into her cheeks, “and I’d still love for you to come one afternoon. I could show you our library and music room.”

He grimaced, a sad smile taking over his demeanour. “I’d like that,” he confessed, “very much indeed, but it’ll have to wait. I’ll be gone for a couple of days.”

“Gone where?” She asked, and the look on his face, of pain, shame, sadness, made her realise she shouldn’t have done so. “You can’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You needn't, Rand.” She said, offering the most genuine smile she could muster under the circumstances. “I’ll be happy to have you over once you come back.” She lightly tapped his hand, and he finally let her away from his gentle, yet firm grip. “I hope you have a nice trip, Rand.”

“Thank you, Gwen.” He replied, gloomily.

That night, the nightmare visited her again. It had done so every night since she had met Rand at the Sanatorium. Guinevere jerked upright in her bed, her whole body had broken into a sweat, and she felt feverish. It’d been a long time since a nightmare had affected her that much. She bolted towards her desk, and grabbed a little music box with a ballerina inside. She laid on her bed once again, and placed the music box in the nightstand beside her. She closed her eyes, her breathing steading, as the music lulled her back to sleep.

Next time she woke up, soft beams of sunshine were tickling her face. It’d be a sunny day. That always managed to get her out and about quickly. She jumped out of bed, put on some clothes, had a small breakfast, and made her bag for the day, a pouch sitting firmly over her hips.

Just as she was about to leave for the Sanitorium, she heard a knock on the door. She knew her mother would scold her for answering herself instead of having Johnas greet the guest, but she paid no mind to it, she already was on her way out after all.

Guinevere opened the door, and was greeted by a pair of weary, yet somehow sparkly, blue eyes. Her whole body went stiff, a gasp caught in her throat, heart pounding in her chest. The paintings didn’t do it justice. It truly was like looking into a mirror. A mirror that reflected a somehow older version of herself, once she wouldn’t have found in the paintings around her house, of course. The same midnight shade of blue on their eyes, where Guinevere’s were gleaming and doe-like, hers were sunken and hollow, surrounded by lines of weariness. The same cheeks, but where Guinevere’s were full and rosy, hers were angular and dull, skin sagging a little around them.

Guinevere saw the older woman match her own staggered expression for a moment, before composing herself, and clearing her throat. That managed to get the girl’s mind attached to the rest of her body once again.

“M-Moiraine,” she stuttered, still in shock, “I mean, Moiraine Sedai.” She added, with a slight tilt of her head, stepping aside as to let the older woman in.

“There’s no need for such formalities, child.” The Aes Sedai said, hastily getting inside and closing the door behind her. She got a quick glimpse at her, and then started scanning the room, her eyes as calculating and stern as she had imagined.

Guinevere remained still for a moment, before regaining awareness of herself, and the situation. Of course, she probably has no idea who I am. “I’m sorry, my name is—

“Guinevere, I know.” The woman said, finally setting her eyes on her. Guinevere looked at her, and was surprised to see her eyes gleaming, as if she were holding back tears, which managed to upset her. She was the one who should be sad, the one who deserved to feel neglected. “You’ve grown. Last time I saw you, you were as tall as this table.” She added, gesturing towards the furniture on her left. Guinevere tilted her head to meet the woman’s gaze, and noticed a flicker of sadness on them, the exact same one she’d seen on Siuan’s.

“I wouldn’t remember.”

“No,” she sighed, her lips almost quivering, unwillingly drawing her stare away from her, “I guess you wouldn’t.”

They remained in awkward silence, not knowing what else to say, until Johnas walked across the hall. He abruptly came to a halt, not believing his eyes. “Am I so very old I’ve started seeing double, or is that you, Lady Moiraine?”

Moiraine was about to respond, but Guinevere interrupted her. “Johnas, please tell my mother her sister is here. It’s still quite early, I’m afraid she ought to be in the painting room.”

“Of course, little lady.” The man bowed towards the both of them, and left the room.

Guinevere turned her gaze towards her aunt, and started to subtly examine her. She wasn’t the once-in a lifetime hero her brother had made her out to be. She seemed tired, weary, and overly aged for an Aes Sedai. And her power… if she was as powerful as everyone said, she couldn’t feel it. As a matter of fact, she couldn’t feel anything within her. She turned her face upwards, and noticed the older woman studying her just as she had been doing as well. Moiraine took one step closer to her, softly placing hand on Guinevere’s head and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Guinevere, I—

“Little lady, my lady,” Johnas interrupted them, as he barged into the room, “your sister is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Moiraine suddenly drew her hand to herself, casting a glance of guilt to the younger girl, as if she had been on the brink of doing something she’d later regret. She cleared her throat as she turned around, following the butler into the next room, and leaving Guinevere all by herself in the hall. I was wrong. If Moiraine wasn’t as powerful with the One Power, then how could she explain the electrifying, almost burning feeling that ran through her body when she’d touched her?

************

This was written so quickly and I still have yet to proofread it, so please, comment if you've enjoyed it and would like another part and if there's anything you'd like to see! Thank you for reading

Chapter 2 here!

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apocalypticavolition · 1 year ago

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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 28: Footprints in Air

Yup, we're back to Whitebridge and I'm up to my old tricks. This reread is going to have spoilers for everything in the whole damn series and if you don't like that, you should skip this post. And maybe block the spoiler tags.

For everyone else, let's talk chapter icons! We've got Moiraine's staff again, and it might as well be her magnifying glass because she is playing detective this time around. She also plays off of Nynaeve, our POV, this time around (and really any time she and Nynaeve are in the same room).

Another legend, and they don’t even seem to notice. She resolved not to stare where they could see. They’ll laugh if they see me gaping like a country bumpkin.

Nynaeve is really good at getting in the way of her own happiness. Moiraine is way too busy contemplating the singular purpose to which she's dedicated her life to at the exclusion of all else like some kind of 90s anti-hero and her statue of a Warder would probably start gushing at Nynaeve about every cool relic he'd ever seen if he thought it would make her smile. While part of Nynaeve's attitude is just about spiting Moiraine, I think her insecurities come from the same kind of logic that Rand observed in how Wisdoms wouldn't possibly be allowed to dance at festivals: she's not allowed to have emotion or she's even worse at her job than everyone treats her already.

The scowl made her feel like a girl who had been caught acting the fool by someone in the Women’s Circle. That was a feeling Nynaeve was not used to, and the calm smile on Moiraine’s face only made it worse.

See what I mean? Nynaeve hasn't let herself be imperfect in a long, long time.

If only there was some way to get rid of the woman. Lan would be better by himself—a Warder should be able to handle what was needed, she told herself hastily, feeling a sudden flush; no other reason—but one meant the other.

"Their romance comes out of nowhere!" - people who clearly didn't read this sentence closely.

It weighed on Moiraine and Lan, too, as outwardly unperturbable as they were. She soon realized that, beneath their calm surfaces, hour by hour they wound tighter and tighter, like clocksprings being forced to the breaking point. Moiraine seemed to listen to things that were not there, and what she heard put a crease in her forehead. Lan watched the forest and the river as if the leafless trees and wide, slow water carried the signs of traps and ambushes waiting ahead.

They spent the last two weeks assuming that they were finally done looking and could get onto the much easier part of their job of fleeing to Tar Valon. Their POVs right now would be absolutely hysterical and full of exciting expletives, most of which Moiraine learned from Siuan.

Then, contradicting what he had just said, he added, “You should go back to your Two Rivers when we reach Whitebridge, and the Caemlyn Road. It’s too dangerous here. Nothing will try to stop you going back, though.” It was the longest speech he made all that day.

Much like Rand, Lan wants to keep his loved ones out of danger. If they were flirting any more strongly, Moiraine would have to look away for decency's sake.

Around the square at the foot of the White Bridge piles of blackened timbers, still leaking smoky threads, replaced half a dozen buildings. Men in poorly fitting red uniforms and tarnished armor patrolled the streets, but they marched quickly, as if afraid of finding anything, and they looked over their shoulders as they went. Townspeople—the few who were out—almost ran, shoulders hunched, as though something were chasing them.

Western Andor really isn't going to recover from Rand's recent tour for years, is it? And Elayne really has her work cut out for her; Whitebridge isn't anywhere near as far away from Caemlyn as Baerlon. It is a distance, but the books have already noted that this is one of the only river crossings anywhere in the continent.

Of course, maintaining the bridge is a complete non-issue because it's magic and not repairable even if it did start breaking anyway. If anything happened they'd have to just scrap it and start all the way over. So the crown would have no strong reason to worry about this place and without any serious military threats (*points and laughs at Altara and Murandy*), funding is quite possibly lower to this place than it is to Baerlon, whose mining territories aren't supernatural so far as we know.

So I guess the worldbuilding for the near collapse of Andorian territory actually checks out in a lot of ways!

The truth of the matter was there was a man somewhere in the town meddling with the One Power. It was time to have the Aes Sedai in; past time, was the way they saw it, no matter what the men said about Tar Valon. Let the Red Ajah settle matters. One man claimed it had been an attack by bandits, and another said a riot by Darkfriends. “Those ones going to see the false Dragon, you know,” he confided darkly. “They’re all over the place. Darkfriends, every one.” Still others spoke of some kind of trouble—they were vague about exactly what kind—that had come downriver on a boat.

This is a rare moment in the series where the rumors are more right than wrong. There was a male channeler in town (even though they couldn't have known that, because Rand did nothing), the Fade attack is basically a Darkfriend, and the trouble did indeed come downriver on a boat. Poor Bayle, being driven off for something that wasn't his fault. On the plus side, it may have saved him from further problems.

He seemed resplendent to Nynaeve, in his peaked helmet and burnished breastplate, until he took a pose just inside the door, with a hand resting on the hilt of his sword and a stern look on his face, and used a finger to ease his too-tight collar. It made her think of Cenn Buie trying to act the way a Village Councilor should.

By the end of the series, quite a few people will have put on costumes they never thought they'd wear. Maybe even this militia guy will have the benefit of growing into his role. He's certainly just a dick now though. What kind of asshole tries to kick Nynaeve out of town?

The Aes Sedai studied the tabletop for a moment before raising her eyes to Nynaeve’s, and when she did, Nynaeve started back from a flash of anger that almost seemed to make Moiraine’s eyes glow. Then her back stiffened, her own anger rising, but before she could say a word, the Aes Sedai spoke coldly.

It's incredible that Moiraine spent years being trained to modulate her emotions, first in the crazy political schemes of Cairhien and then by the White Tower itself, and Nynaeve gets her to be openly angry in just two weeks! She could make anyone break.

And that's a wrap on another short chapter. See ya next time for another Perrin POV!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #nynaeve al'meara #lan al'mandragoran #moiraine damodred

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ladydamodred · 3 years ago

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“I’d marry you today if I could, you know.”

Moiraine lifted her head and smiled, trying to shake off her melancholy. She picked up her mug of ale and settled back on to the bed, leaning into the curve of her lover’s body. “Would we live here? Have a home in the Fingers of the Dragon?”

“Mmn.” Siuan reached out to run her fingers through fine strands of long brown hair. “I’ll fish and cook for you, we’ll have a garden and raise the juiciest, sweetest fruit you’ve ever tasted.”

“I’d have to learn how to brew my own ale if you insist on drinking this horse piss.”

"Language.” Siuan tugged lightly at the hair wound around her fingers in admonishment. She laughed a little as Moiraine winced, before sitting up to kiss her in apology. “But anything to keep you by my side. Would a life like that make you happy, my love, after all your years in a saddle?”

“When I’m settling down to sleep, stones and branches digging into me through my bed roll and only half of me warm from the fire, that life is what I dream about. A home that we can make together. Being in the same bed every night, with you beside me.” Moiraine's lips curved up in a wry grin. “Hot baths. Our own bathing hut, that no one will judge me for using too long, which will always be scented with oils we like. We can build a fireplace inside, make the heat so intense that it hurts to breathe...”

“Sounds like you dream about that bathing hut more than me.” Siuan noted dryly.

Moiraine pinched the skin on her thigh where the robe fell open, knowing that it was one of her ticklish spots, smiling fondly as Siuan laughed and pushed her away. “Don’t be jealous. I dream about you in the bathing hut too.”

“Well, that’s something at least.” She let Siuan take her mug to set it aside, watching as her lover shrugged off her robe and dropped it on the floor. The other woman got back into bed with her, guiding her down until they shared a pillow. Moiraine swallowed at the look in her eyes, the love obvious in her soft smile as she reached out to trace her brow, her touch gentle and soothing.

“Siuan...” she haltingly began to confess. “The thought of being married to you, having a home together... it’s a dream I almost don’t dare to have. Tarmon Gai'don is coming, and the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills...”

“I meant what I said earlier, Moiraine. One day, we will have more time, either in this life or the next.” Siuan’s voice took on the timbre it had in the Hall of the Tower, the look on her face was incandescent. “Every turning of the Wheel, I will find you. I promise.”

This was the woman she fell in love with, decades ago. She was a member of House Damodred, one of the royal line in Cairhien, yet it had been so easy for her to follow the daughter of a poor Tairen fisherman. Part of it was being hopelessly spellbound by Siuan’s quick mind and the mischievous smile that got them into trouble with the Mistress of the Novices more times than they could count. But it was also Siuan’s strength and conviction, that had her predicting from the day they met that her friend would eventually become the Amyrlin Seat and the most powerful woman in the world. She let that strength envelop her now, feeling safe in a way that she never allowed herself to feel on the road or in her own quarters, and finally slept.

#wotfic #moiraine x siuan #siuanraine #siuraine #drabble #ish?#idea kicking round #since marriage vows #confirmed #moiraine needed #the prompt #from somewhere #and imma #procrastinating

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krixwell · 3 years ago

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First line meme

Passively tagged by @neuxue

Rules: List the first lines of the last ten (10) stories you published. Look to see any patterns you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any. Then tag some friends.

I don't quite have enough published stories to fill the quota, but I'll do what I can.

8. Dreamers and the Moon (MLP:FiM ongoing nonchronological anthology. It wasn't meant to form a story at first, just flesh out some character concepts, so the first line was in no way written to be the first line of a story.)

“Are you sure this thing is safe?”

7. Untitled Eris "ficlets" (Worm, published to my liveblog)

"Hey, Potence, lend me your rope."

6. Reflections in Black and Pink (MLP:FiM ongoing. The intro here is a whole spiel before a cut to the actual beginning. Very Wheel of Time-inspired.)

There were many legends scattered around Equestria. Legendary beasts, legendary artifacts, legendary castles. Legendary ponies, legendary flowers, even legendary flight maneuvers. Equestria had enough legends for anypony, and most of them were true.

Many of the legends of Equestria were grandiose, having great repercussions whenever somepony decided to seek them out, or simply stumbled upon them by happenstance. Some were unassuming, hidden away, lying dormant, only to once in a while be used for trivial purposes, though they were legendary no less. Only a fool, however, believed that something small and unassuming could not also have great repercussions.

A butterfly flapped its wings in the Everfree Forest.

5. What Fun is There in Nightmares (MLP:FiM oneshot that became the first installment of a series, the What Series. The other two installments later in the list are effectively chapters 2 and 3 of this.)

One pony's dream could be another pony's nightmare. Nevertheless, Luna couldn't figure out why this would be anypony's nightmare.

4. Tunnel's End (MLP:FiM oneshot)

The light slowly dimmed as the sun crossed the horizon, leaving behind a red glow on the sky as a final plea to the world. "Don't forget me in the dark," it said. "I will be back tomorrow."

3. What Dreams are There in Chaos (MLP:FiM pseudo-oneshot, second installment in the What Series)

"I know not what to tell thee anymore."

2. What Loss is There in Evil (MLP:FiM pseudo-oneshot, third installment in the What Series)

She had slept through it all with remarkable ease. Apparently, Celestia had not seen fit to waken her even on account of an apocalyptic villain running loose.

1. Soulless (Wheel of Time oneshot)

Siuan Sanche. The Watcher of the Seals, the Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat. Despite her relative youth among the long-lived Aes Sedai, she was quite possibly the most powerful woman in the world. When the Amyrlin Seat spoke, kings trembled. Over the past fifteen years in the position, Siuan Sanche had made herself known to the world as a woman who did not back down easily.

It should rejoice that the Great Lord's Chosen had given it such a high profile target. It could not. Happiness and pride were emotions it did not know.

0. Dockyard's story (MLP:FiM ongoing, not yet published – sneak preview! Subject to rewriting though.)

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Dockyard.

"Everything has to be exactly and precisely the way he wants it to be, or he gets agitated! And with his temperament, he quickly begins to yell and shout."

Don't be fooled by the name. My father always wanted me to build and repair boats like him, and his father, and his father's mother.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have to shout if things were where they should be! Besides, you don't know how much stress I go through at work, with all the crime in eastern Manehattan under my—"

Someone has to carry on the family business, he says. The family business of underpaid manual labor maintaining the backbone of somepony else's easy bits, I suppose.

"You're stressed?! You think I don't experience a lot of stress too? Everything has to be so precise and accurate in court that when I return and come home, I need to relax and be a little sloppy to stay sane."

But I never cared much about ships. I found my calling elsewhere.

"Delicate, please don't interrupt when it's your husband's turn with the stick. Strict, you can continue, if you wish."

I'm the one who fixes everypony else's messes.

Patterns...

Dreamers, the first Eris ficlet and What Dreams all share a technique I like to employ for chapter openings, where I open on a line of dialogue and then fill in the context and POV character in the next few paragraphs. To some extent this is also present in Dockyard's story, but in another form, interspersed with Dockyard's formal self-introduction.

I'm going to tag @krickis and @loreweaver, plus anyone else who wants to do it. (That's what I meant by being passively tagged at the beginning of the post.)

#lia if you see this I'm pretty sure soulless is spoiler safe for you should you wish to read it #Krixwell #original #tag meme #my fics

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neuxue · 6 years ago

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 46

Egwene dispenses justice and completes an arc

Chapter 46: To Be Forged Again

Patiently? In the fires of pain?

After crossing the bridge to Tar Valon as a victor, the day nearly became a blur for Egwene.

I hate this sentence construction because it happens all the time but if you look at it closely, the subject of the sentence is ‘the day’ rather than ‘Egwene’ which implies that it was the day that crossed the bridge to Tar Valon as a victor.

(It’s also one of those things where, once you’ve learned to be annoyed by it, you start seeing it everywhere).

Egwene is being instructed in the protocol of Amyrlinification and I’m getting a strong sense of déjà vu, while Egwene herself is getting a strong sense of what it means to be a fictional character with a nicely bookended arc.

“I was raised by the rebels, Siuan,” Egwene said sternly. “These women deserve the chance to stand for me as well. Otherwise, I will never have a claim to their loyalty. The ceremony must be performed again.”

Also, in times of chaos and disaster and uncertainty, there’s often a very compelling form of comfort in falling back even more on traditions and rituals that provide a structured pretence of normalcy and certainty. There are rules to follow and they all know the script and when everything else is falling apart, that feels like a safe harbour. And right now, that’s not something to be discarded lightly—especially when it’s a ritual surrounding the elevation of someone to leadership and power. They can’t afford even a hint of instability now, or the slightest crack in this façade of tradition, not when the Tower itself is cracked and nearly broken. This is something central to who they are, and to alter or abandon it now would risk shattering what is left.

It’s important to know when to do something radical, when to throw out the rulebook, when to shock everyone and push for change…and when to take a step back and permit tradition and allow the dust to settle.

“Once I am finished with the ceremony, I will greet them and formally accept their apology for their rebellion and welcome them back into the Tower.” “Accept their apology?” Siuan asked incredulously.

“They rebelled against the Tower, Siuan,” Egwene said, looking at her. “Whatever the need of what they did, there is reason for apology.”

“But you were with them!”

“I no longer represent just them, Siuan,” Egwene said firmly.

It may seem harsh—or even absurd—but I think Egwene is actually being very wise here.

Because this is a victory, but it cannot be a victory for one side over another; it must be a victory for the Tower. This has to be a case of the Tower victorious over its own near-destruction.

So combine that with the notion of falling back on tradition and ritual and formality in times of chaos and uncertainty and a formal apology and pardon seems very appropriate.

It’s a way of providing closure, of acknowledging what has happened and drawing a clear, official line under it. Of ritualising and formalising the end of the division, and the distribution of responsibility. They are all responsible, they all have to swallow some pride, they all have to come together on as close to equal footing as possible, and clear the air between them as much as they can, if they are to fix this. It can’t turn into an ‘I-told-you-so’ or a ‘but-you-started-it’ between them.

It’s a balancing act. And I think formalising as much of it as possible, and using the Tower’s own traditions and structures to help bring everything into balance—understanding that she must be raised according to the usual protocols, requiring a formal apology from the rebels even though she was one of them—is a very good way of going about it. She’s basically going ‘here are all the things that each side does or could feel wronged by’ and formally addressing those things, because while it’s not going to fix all those problems, it undercuts their potential to fester and grow into bigger problems later.

Put less formally, it’s like when you have to hold two siblings apart and put the toy in the middle and make them both apologise to each other (‘sorry for what?’) and accept each other’s apology and maybe each say one nice thing about the other.

“I will acquit them, and we can get on with healing.”

It absolutely is just a formality, and she intends it for that purpose. She’s not trying to rub their noses in anything, and she’s not deliberating over whether to acquit them or punish them or something else; she’s just very aware that there are some steps that need to be taken in order for healing to be possible, and crossing the t’s is a good way to start. It lets them get on with the genuine parts.

“The Tower needs to know that the rebels regret the division. They needn’t lie and say that they wished they had stayed, but I think it is appropriate for them to express sorrow over the hardships the division has caused. I will acquit them, and we can get on with healing.”

That, basically. It’s a reframing of both the victory and the conflict—not as one side against another, but as the Tower against this division and strife, which they can now work on putting behind them.

“Your Warder?” Tesan asked of Egwene.

She regarded Gawyn, and was forced to confront a whole mess of emotions. Anger, affection, passion and regret. What a strange mix. “No,” she said. She stared Gawyn in the eyes.

I’m going to take this out of context as Egwene flat-out denying Gawyn because it makes me happy and you can’t stop me.

The way this is being handled goes some way towards, if not redeeming, then at least balancing the absurdity with which the romance between these two was introduced and established (YOU CAN’T DEVELOP A RELATIONSHIP ENTIRELY VIA FORESHADOWING AND YES I’M STILL ANNOYED ABOUT THIS). There’s an acknowledgement here of the complications, and I like that ‘but they love each other’ isn’t immediately treated as a way of skipping over those. I like that Egwene gets to have these conflicting feelings, and gets to be unsure of exactly how to deal with Gawyn, and gets to rebuke and deny him because he fucked up and she’s angry and this isn’t the time.

Yes, this was a different experience entirely from the one she’d had back in that humble wooden building where she’d been raised by the Salidar Aes Sedai. In many ways, her performance in Salidar had been but a rehearsal.

Character growth!

The grand, domed room beyond now had a blasted hole—a gaping emptiness—directly across from the entrance. It looked out at Dragonmount.

I feel like there’s really no commentary required here; the symbolism is about as subtle as the blast that made that hole.

The Amyrlin Seat stood by the far wall, directly in front of the broken wall, its back ot the sprawling landscape beyond and distant Dragonmount.

You know, just in case it wasn’t clear enough already.

But let’s be honest, I love this sort of thing even when it’s not remotely subtle. The Amyrlin Seat in front of the wound in the Tower! The Amyrlin seat turned away from the world outside! The Amyrlin Seat set up with its back to Dragonmount, like a declaration of opposition! And yet the barrier between them torn away, and both now seen in the same tableau!

Egwene almost misses her cue because she’s distracted by taking a roll call of all the Aes Sedai present—or, perhaps more importantly—not present.

There was something Egwene had been considering, something audacious.

Oh, so it’s Tuesday.

What does she want Silviana for? To pardon her? But then why ask her to be brought now, rather than waiting…unless…Sheriam is dead. Egwene can’t choose either Lelaine or Romanda as a replacement without risking upsetting the balance of power; actually, she can’t really choose any of the (former) rebels without upsetting a different balance. Elaida was Red and the Reds are in disgrace and the Ajahs are at each other’s throats and Egwene is of all Ajahs and of none…anyway it’s a possibility. I’d put a very small amount of money on that being the reason she’s asking for Silviana, which would indeed be audacious. But…fitting, in this delicate dance of repairing divides and restoring balance.

Finally the ceremony begins, and we’ve all seen this before.

Of course, that’s very much the point: this is the far bookend of the arc that began for Egwene with that first raising. This is where it comes full circle and yet is almost inverted; when she was raised in Salidar it was out of division and conflict and a need for a puppet, and now she is being raised as a symbol of reconciliation, and as a true and strong leader whom they can all respect.

Why had she been chosen? Both times, it seemed the same answer. Because she was the only one they could all agree upon.

Differences, and yet some similarities. She’s not wrong, and she’s not under any illusions about the reason for her raising—though I think there is in some cases more to it than this simple pragmatism—though I’m sure she intends to live up to far more. She understands the situation, but she doesn’t need more from them. It’s not about her ego; she doesn’t need them to love her or to raise her out of any sort of admiration. She just needs to be where she can help them, and that’s what she plans to do. This, like the apology she spoke of demanding from the rebels, is just the formality that will allow for the genuine progress and healing.

“Are you certain you want to bear this weight, child?” Saerin asked in a very soft voice. This was not part of the ceremony.

“I bear it already, Saerin.”

This entire ceremony is far more important for all the other women in the room than it is for Egwene herself. She doesn’t need the Amyrlin’s stole and staff to do whatever she can to help the Tower; she’ll do that anyway. But they need the stability and security of process and tradition in a time when all else is chaos, and they need to have a symbol of that stability. That’s what it’s about, more than an actual conveyance of power. And maybe it’s just going through the motions, but sometimes that’s what is needed.

“Elaida cast it aside when she tried to slice it and divide it as she wished. I took it up and have carried it since. I would bear it to my death. And will.”

Saerin nodded. “I think that might be why you deserve it,” she said.

First of all, that whole ‘I would bear it to my death. And will’ is ominous and probably foreshadowing.

But the main thing I like about this is how it isn’t just a tired echo of the whole ‘those who don’t want power are best suited to it’ notion. Egwene doesn’t deserve to be Amyrlin because she’s modest and lacking in any kind of ambition; she deserves to be Amyrlin because she has worked tirelessly at just that for months, now. She deserves to be Amyrlin because she already is. Because she’s been doing the work of Amyrlin even when the title has been denied to her.

And I think that’s the idea that ‘give power to those who don’t seek it’ tries but sometimes fails to express. Egwene deserves to be Amyrlin because she’s not seeking the position for itself, or for her own vanity, but rather for the ability to guide and heal and lead the Tower. She does want to be Amyrlin, but it’s because she knows she is up to the task, and believes herself to be the best person for it. And is determined to make that true.

So I like the…nuance of this. That it’s not about wanting or not wanting power; it’s about what you plan to do with it, and how willing and able you are to wield it to that purpose.

Now it was time for some surprises.

It wouldn’t be a real meeting between Egwene and the Hall otherwise, would it? Some traditions must be kept, after all.

First surprise: Silviana.

“Mother,” Yukiri finally asked. “Is this the best time to be dispensing judgement?”

Somehow I don’t think that’s what’s about to happen here, Yukiri.

Egwene withdrew her hand from the kneeling Silviana and looked directly at Yukiri, then turned her gaze across the waiting Sitters. “You all bear a great deal of shame,” she said.

Or rather, Egwene’s not dispensing judgement on Silviana. On the Aes Sedai of the Tower…that’s another story.

“This,” Egwene said, gesturing toward the broken wall. “You bear responsibility for this.” She pointed at Silviana, still kneeling. “You bear responsibility for this. You bear responsibility for letting the Tower remain so long in division. Many of you bear responsibility for that division in the first place!

“You are a disgrace. The White Tower—the pride of the Light, the power for stability and truth since the Age of Legends—has nearly been shattered because of you.”

She stated earlier her intent to require an apology from the rebels, but they’re not the only ones who are going to have to face some hard truths. She’s not letting anyone off easy, and that’s the key here. Not only does it keep division from worsening by ensuring that no one ‘side’ can feel superior—or feel treated unfairly in comparison to the other(s)—but it also forces all of them to really look at what has happened. And to accept their responsibility, because they are all responsible, to some degree or another. It has come to this, and now they must find a way forward, and they cannot do that until they acknowledge where they are.

It’s a stripping-down of pride in order to put them all on even footing once more, as well as to make them recognise how little they have to focus that pride on right now. The Tower is nearly broken, and they have all but fallen apart, and they can’t just deny that anymore, not if they are to rebuild anything. And so in a way this harshness is absolutely necessary, because it may be the only way to strip away illusion and conceit and petty (or even not so petty) grievances and rivalries and actually start afresh and build something worth being proud of again.

“There have been foolish Amyrlins before, but non have come as close to tearing down the entire Tower! You are a check upon the Amyrlin. You are to keep her from doing things like this! You allowed her to disband an entire Ajah? What were you thinking? How is it that you allowed the Tower to fall so far?”

Tell that to Congress.

They can’t keep blaming each other, or even Elaida, for their failings, because then they will not have actually dealt with them, and it will only make it easier to continue to do nothing. And they can’t look solely to Egwene for their salvation, because again that frees them to take no action, and inaction and indecision have been contributors to this whole mess in the first place. And so reparation begins with acknowledging, at least to an extent, their own complicity in the disaster.

Egwene really does do an excellent ‘I’m not angry; I’m just disappointed’. (‘Except I’m actually angry as well’).

“Only one woman in this room was willing to stand up for what she knew to be right. Only one woman dared defy Elaida, and she accepted the price of doing so. And you think I brought this woman here to exact vengeance on her? Are you really so blinded that you think I’d punish the only person in the entire Tower who did anything of decency these last few months?”

It’s an even stronger example because of the fact that it was Silviana who beat Egwene on Elaida’s orders for so long. But that’s just it; Silviana was following orders, which is respectable, within the bounds of reason and legality…until Elaida went too far, and then Silviana challenged her. She didn’t fall back on following orders as an excuse to turn a blind eye to a violation of Tower Law, and she didn’t use Elaida’s status as Amyrlin—or even her threats and punishments—as reason to remain silent.

And so Egwene holds her up as an example, and it highlights the commitment to fairness and justice; it’s not about who she likes or dislikes. Silviana beat her and yet is being praised as one of the only people here who has shown decency, while even the rebels—of whom Egwene was one—are not getting away lightly.

“Silviana Brehon, I would have you as my Keeper of the Chronicles. Let it not be said that I spurned the Red.”

Well done. It sends a message to the Red that Egwene does not plan to retaliate, or to disband them as Elaida disbanded the Blue. It sends a message to the Tower and Rebel Aes Sedai alike that Egwene intends them to be reunited. And It’s also a way of setting a very clear precedent that contrasts with the one Elaida has set: Egwene is not going to dispense judgements based on whim and mood. She won’t demote someone to Accepted for disagreeing with her if she’s promoting a woman to Keeper who beat her.

“This will be a difficult time for the Red Ajah, daughter,” Egwene said. “Their nature has always been to capture men who can channel, but reports claim that saidin is cleansed.”

“There will still be rogue channellers, Mother,” Silviana said. “And men are not to be trusted.”

Someday, we will have to move beyond that sentiment, Egwene thought. But for not, it is true enough to let stand.

She’s learned to pick her battles. (Or at least, she’s learned that ‘fight everyone all the time’ is best left to Nynaeve). There is only so much change she can effect at a time, only so much she can challenge, and only so far she can push without shattering them all over again. It’s a frustrating truth of politics, sometimes.

She also knows that ordering penance is fairly pointless—this is a time for justice and some necessary harshness, but she also knows, it seems, where to stop. They need to be able to move on, and setting penance as Elaida might once have would just keep them focused on the past, not to mention foment resentment. Instead, any penitent feelings they may feel a need to express can be directed towards rebuilding the Tower.

Egwene took a deep breath. “And I am not guiltless either. I share some of your shame, for it was during my tenure that these disasters occurred. I sided with the rebels, allowed myself to be raised by them because it was the only choice. But that choice still gives me culpability.”

I love this. I love that no one is exempt, not even herself. She is harsh to all, but to none unfairly. And I love the way agency comes into this: she made her choice, and believed it the only one, but that does not absolve her—or any of them—of the consequences. Those, they must face, and so better to face them together on equal footing. This is their shame, as Aes Sedai and as the White Tower; in an ironic sort of way it’s a foundation of unity from which they can build.

Mostly, though, I just love ‘it was the only choice, but that choice still gives me culpability.’ This is the moral reckoning I love so much. She did what she had to do, but it was still her choice. That’s what her arc has been about: duty and necessity but never without agency. She makes her choices, and stands by them. She does not behave like one forced into her place by fate, fighting it all the way, but like one who chose even when it seemed like no choice at all.

It’s a smaller hint of a bookend, maybe, but it reminds me of her meeting her toh before leaving the Aiel. When she learned to admit to what she had done—even if it was something she believed must be done—and face the consequences of it. And now she is doing so again, in front of those she intends to lead: owning up to her ‘crimes’, such as they are, and accepting that she is not without fault. She’s come a long way.

“Bear your shame, Sitters, but bear it with determination. Do not let it break you. The time for healing has begun, and there is no longer any use in pointing fingers. You failed. But you are what we have. We are all the world has.”

Egwene says it more eloquently than I have, but…that’s it, exactly. It’s time to move on. They have to accept what they have done and what has happened, and where they stand now, but they must also look ahead.

And now it’s the rebels’ turn.

First, Silviana wants to know how the whole Keeper situation is going to be resolved, and Egwene just casually responds no worries, there won’t be any competition, Sheriam was Black Ajah and therefore disqualified. Oh and also would you mind moving the ter’angreal storehouse? Pass the salt.

“I will not pretend that our division did not take place. We of the White Towerare sometimes too eager to forget those facts we don’t want to acknowledge. This one cannot be hidden, not from us who lived it. We were divided. We nearly came to war with one another. We have disgraced ourselves.”

Note the pronoun she uses. This is something they all have to acknowledge, herself included. And she’s only too right that they have a tendency to sweep such things under the rug. It’s why these announcements and harsh pronouncements are necessary; she has to make it impossible for any of them to just…sidestep the problems that led to this point in the first place, because then what is to prevent them from going back to that?

And so we get a speech similar to the one she gave the Sitters, though the wrongs she cites are different—and once again, she makes it clear that she shares their shame, as she shares the shame of the Tower Aes Sedai.

“You must take responsibility for your crimes, even those performed in the name of the greater good.”

I’ve said this before, but Egwene has evolved to occupy the niche of Lawful Good I find most interesting. That space in which crime for the sake of the greater good may be necessary or admirable, but still requires a form of justice. It’s an odd balancing act in that it should be an impossible contradiction, yet occasionally you get a character who manages to hold that space and make it work, and she has become one of them.

And really, it comes down—again—to an issue of agency, of choice and consequence. Do what you must, and pay the price.

“You did not come here in glory,” Egwene said to them. “You did not come here victorious. For there is no victory, and could have been no victory, when sister fought sister and Warder died to Warder.”

She was ready to take that step herself, to attack the Tower, if needed. She was willing to make that choice, knowing these consequences…but she knew what the consequences would be. And so I don’t find this to be hypocrisy, but rather full understanding of their situation and what it could have come to, and in some cases what it did come to. This is not a victory, because the situation was such that no matter who won they would all lose.

And now for the rebuilding. Enough of shame and fault and guilt; time to focus on what can be done to prepare them for the future.

It’s well done. I’m proud of her.

Even if the exclamation marks are getting a little excessive.

Next (TGS ch 47) Previous (TGS ch 45)

#I don't know if you know this about me #but I love Egwene al'Vere #Wheel of Time #neuxue liveblogs WoT #The Gathering Storm

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lakeofsilverpike · 1 year ago

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I've seen several people latching on to that scene of Lanfear poking fun at Liandrin's 'interesting fixations' and while I'm pretty sure the consensus is that these fixations are ALL about Moiraine, there is still some debate over whether Liandrin is ahh dominating or not. And since I love your blog so much I thought I'd see what you think:

Which version of Moiraine do you think Liandrin fixates on?

a) Sun Queen Moiraine (with Liandrin as her aes sedai advisor)

b) Red Ajah Moiraine (who has the same convictions as Liandrin)

*And, what kind of...scenarios do you imagine?

Thank you!

To answer the question you didn't ask, I am certain that in Liandrin's fantasies Moiraine tops. That's what Liandrin was embarrassed Lanfear saw - not that it was Moiraine, but that Liandrin is secretly a bottom.

I headcanon that Moiraine and Liandrin were friends as novices and that Liandrin had a crush on Moiraine. Maybe Liandrin confided in Moiraine about Liandrin’s past, shared just a little bit, but still more than she had told anyone else. Moiraine is Liandrin's queer awakening, the first woman she's attracted to. Moiraine is oblivious, only has eyes for Siuan.

Novice Moiraine is deeply afraid of becoming like her family, deeply afraid of being a bad person. And I think being with Siuan helps Moiraine start to see herself as having the potential to do good. Not just to avoid being evil and stay as far from the Sun Throne as possible, but to truly do good. Moiraine blossoms with Siuan and sees their lives together as spent fighting against injustice.

Liandrin feels she is doing that too, but what she means by fighting injustice is actively harming and getting vengeance against the men with power to hurt women. And Moiraine recoils from this. It feels too close to what she grew up with, even though the ends are so different, the disregard for human life is repulsive to Moiraine. Liandrin is hurt and angered by Moiraine's rejection, but still very attracted to Moiraine and also jealous of the life that Moiraine and Siuan build where they are happy and find joy in being together, while Liandrin is bitter and focuses on her mission.

Does Liandrin imagine Sun Queen Moiraine? Good question. I had not considered this before. Maybe there is a part of Liandrin that thought Moiraine should have taken the power and imagines a Moiraine who would have been able to embrace more ruthless methods and see the truth of Liandrin's worldview. Liandrin doesn't know (because Moiraine never confided in her, never trusted Liandrin enough to share anything too personal) Moiraine's deep fears and the cruelty of her family. So Liandrin might think of Sun Queen Moiraine and think this is sexy as hell (Siuan doesn't think it's sexy. Siuan knows how desperately afraid of being queen Moiraine is, knows the thought of it fills Moiraine with so much fear and self-loathing).

As for Moiraine as a Red, I can believe that once upon a time, Liandrin thought about that. When she was opening up to Moiraine as teenagers, when they were friends, and Liandrin confided in Moiraine about Aludran, maybe even about Liandrin's marriage, and hoped, though never dared to say, that maybe Moiraine would be interested in Liandrin, maybe sex could feel good with another woman. Liandrin imagined that maybe Moiraine could be the person Liandrin experienced sexual pleasure with for the first time. I think that dream faded long ago, and Moiraine as a Red was less of a sexy image as a comforting one, the idea that Moiraine cared for Liandrin and would want to be with her. But the more Liandrin talked about hating men and vengeance and gentling, the more Moiraine turned away. And so Liandrin's crush turned into resentment and anger, but still there is attraction.

In Liandrin's fantasies, she allows Moiraine to be in control, to see Liandrin vulnerable, to keep her safe while they are intimate. Liandrin has never allowed anyone to be in control of her, not after her husband, not since she was the vulnerable child. She can't bring herself to let anyone be in control in bed. But part of her wants that desperately. I think that is probably the most honest answer. That Liandrin has so much sexual trauma that she really struggles with pleasure when she's with another person. She enjoys giving other women pleasure, but she uses it as a means of control, as a way to have power in the relationship. And Liandrin rarely lets other people touch her, doesn't want that, is too overwhelmed by the vulnerability of it.

But there is something still deeply arousing to Liandrin about the thought of it, of being able to give over control and let another woman touch her. And her mind fixates on Moiriane being that woman, because it would never happen in reality and is therefore safe in a way that thinking about this with a real partner could never be.

Thank you for making me think this through. I think my answer really is that Liandrin's fantasy is being able to let another person touch her and let that bring her pleasure. I think it's something she had a lot of trouble doing because of her history of trauma. And because Moiraine is someone who would never consider being with Liandrin in real life, it is safer to fantasize about her being the person to give Liandrin pleasure. Because Liandrin can never actualize this fantasy with Moiraine.

TLDR, Liandrin could use therapy. Her fantasies are of being able to have sex in an intimate way and allowing someone to bring her pleasure.

Sorry anon, you left me a fun ask, and I made it very angsty.

#asks #liandrin guirale #moiraine damodred #tw: rape #tw forced marriage

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neuxue · 6 years ago

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Wheel of Time liveblogging: The Gathering Storm ch 38

Egwene faces some important questions and understands some important things and it’s all lovely and then the last page BLOWS IT ALL AWAY HOLY SHIT THAT’S A THING THAT JUST HAPPENED

Chapter 38: News in Tel’aran’rhiod

Egwene! This seems like an appropriate POV shift after the last chapter(s). Chapter, mostly. It fits, because of course Rand and Egwene parallel each other in many ways, as I have no doubt already bored you to death with on multiple occasions, but an Egwene chapter seems like perhaps the only way to follow…*waves nervously in the direction of the previous chapter* that, because while there are many many parallels between these two, the difference – as I have also no doubt bored you to death with on multiple occasions – is in their mindsets, and in how they approach those parallel events and issues and obstacles. And so to go from one to the other is (probably) a good way to transition in a way that provides a smooth continuity as well as a marked contrast.

I say all of this having read exactly one word of this chapter, so maybe I should not be getting ahead of myself.

So Egwene is locked in a cell, which means this is definitely not a perfect awful things to happy delightful things tone shift, but then, I wasn’t really expecting it to be. I’m expecting more of a ‘this is what I must do and so I will do it even as it damns me’ burning of hundreds of people from existence to a ‘this is my situation and I will do all that is in my power to bring something good from it because that is the choice I have made’ resistance-but-also-healing from within tone shift.

The conversation thus far looks something like this:

Siuan: “Let’s stage a prison break.” Egwene: “No.” Siuan: “Aw, come on, you’re no fun anymore.”

Lightly paraphrased, of course.

Siuan: “Also they might kill you.” Egwene: “…point.”

So at least Siuan gets to plan a prison break. She should get Gawyn on board; it might keep him occupied. Or at least keep him from fucking everything up (again).

“If Elaida cows them, she will act quickly. The woman’s punishments can be swift as a stormwind, take you unaware. I know that for certain.”

“If that happens,” Egwene said pointedly, “my death would be a victory. Elaida would be the one who gave up, not I.”

And so here we have another of those not-quite-parallels not-quite-inversions between Egwene and Rand. It’s the way they both currently view the possibility of their death. Neither sees it as a defeat, or as something to fear. Both see it, to some extent, as a form of victory. But while Rand arrives at that thought through despair and self-loathing and pain he has had to endure for too long, and sees it as something he deserves and as the best he can hope for – an ending – Egwene sees it as an affirmation of agency. If she dies, she dies in power. If she dies it is because she has chosen not to give up her fight, not to put down the burdens she has taken on. If she dies it is a victory, not because she seeks death or an ending, but because it would ensure that her goals are furthered and hopefully achieved. Rand wants to die because he no longer looks to a future; Egwene will willingly die if it means saving the future she works towards. Rand sees it as his fate; Egwene sees it as her choice.

“An old acquaintance of yours recently arrived in camp.”

“Really?” Egwene asked absently. “Who?”

“Gawyn Trakand.”

Sigh. Please just break up with him; you deserve so much better.

On the other hand, at least she knows he’s there – given how communication in this series usually goes, I’m almost surprised. And if she knows he’s there, she can take that into account. Or send a message to him to mind his own business for a little while. Or something.

She managed to keep her form locked into that of the Amyrlin, however, and forced her thoughts back to the moment, driving herself to be casual as she responded. “Gawyn?” she asked. “How odd. I wouldn’t have thought to find him there.”

Siuan smiled. “That was nicely handled,” she said. “Though you paused too long, and when you did ask for him, you were overly uninterested. That made you easy to read.”

“Light blind you,” Egwene said. “Another test?”

A good test, though. Or maybe that’s just me – I like these sorts of things, even if this feels more Sanderson than Jordan to me. Still, it’s absolutely the sort of thing Siuan would ensure Egwene knew: how to mask her true reactions one way or another, and deceive the messenger without truly lying.

I suppose it’s also good that Egwene still has reactions and emotions, unlike SOME PEOPLE I COULD NAME. It’s one thing to hide them; it’s another to rm -rf the whole damn system.

“I should think that the time for testing me has passed.”

“Everyone you meet will always be testing you, Mother,” Siuan said. “You must be prepared for surprises; at any moment someone could throw one at you just to see how you respond.”

That is very, very good advice. Harsh, perhaps, but true. Hers is not a role or position that allows her to take her guard down. Ever, really.

Also that reeks of foreshadowing.

“Gawyn hasn’t said much that I could hear. I think he’s here because he heard that you were captured. He arrived with a spectacular flurry, but now he stays in Bryne’s command post, visiting the Aes Sedai regularly. He’s mulling over something; keeps going to speak to Romanda and Lelaine.”

“That’s troubling.”

That’s an understatement.

For Egwene’s reasons too, I suppose. I was thinking more about the extraordinary potential Gawyn carries in his pocket to make a mess of things, but it’s true that the implication here of divisions in the camp is…a problem.

Not a new problem, but a growing one.

Romanda on one side, Lelaine on the other, with a shrinking slice that doesn’t want to take sides.

Hey it’s a fractal! The Aes Sedai split in rough thirds between Elaida, Egwene, and Option C; then one of those groups split into rough thirds between Romanda and Lelaine…okay sorry I’ll stop.

*definitely does not start drawing out the Fractal of Aes Sedai Uncooperation*

The Tower may be fracturing along Ajah lines, but the rebels are not free from division and discord themselves. And truly healing the Tower means finding a way to bring allof those together.

“Factions and breaks,” Egwene said, getting up. “Infighting and squabbling. We are better than this, Siuan.”

Or she’ll make them be better than this, by sheer force of will.

It’s hard for any group to remain truly unified towards a single purpose, though, especially when there’s power involved. Just look at…uh…literally anywhere in the entire world.

And in this particular world, Rand’s trying to hold nations together but has just failed to establish a truce with the Seanchan. Egwene’s trying to bring the Tower together, but even her own faction is threatening to splinter apart. There is a greater threat, and they all need to be united to face it, but that’s countered by all the forces of division, all the disagreements and differences of opinion and outright hostilities. So this is where people like Egwene and Rand come in, or should, but that is far from an easy task.

For now, Egwene’s about to lay down the law for the Hall. They should know by now that this rarely ends with anything other than Egwene getting her way, so we could just skip the whole ordeal and go straight to that end result, no? No. Alright. Fine.

“I worry about how hard you’re pushing yourself. The Amyrlin needs to learn to ration her strength; some in your place have failed not because they lacked the capacity for greatness, but because they stretched that capacity too thin, sprinting when they should have walked.”

It’s like a version of or variation on Nynaeve’s talk with Rand in A Conversation with the Dragon. A softer version, perhaps, because Egwene isn’t tearing away her own humanity piece by piece, but she is in her way giving everything she has and sparing very little for herself. It is how she has always been; Egwene does not do things halfway. She throws herself in wholeheartedly, even when there is a risk. She does not let herself rest, does not pace herself.

And yet…well, we all know how I think this ends. One of the things I’ve suspected for a long time about this series is that Egwene will not survive it. And in a way, if I’m right, it would be yet another parallel/inversion between her and Rand. I think Rand, who thinks he must sacrifice everything he is, and who longs for the ending of death, will find a way to live, and perhaps to find himself again. Because death is something he seeks out of despair and fatigue and self-hatred. Whereas Egwene…this is who she is.

There are some lines she has to draw between Egwene al’Vere and the Amyrlin Seat, and she’s had to change to fill that role, but she hasn’t torn away parts of herself to do that. She’s grown, and become more herself. She has made these choices and embraced what they require. It’s not a rejection but rather an affirmation of self, and while as a result she may feel pain, she does not inflict it upon herself, nor does she see it as something she deserves. Egwene does not hold back or fragment herself to try to preserve some part of herself. And so it would be true to her character to give everything, including her life, and to do so willingly. It would be fitting for her, because it would be a choice, and true to everything she is, whereas for Rand it would be…not defeat, precisely, but certainly not triumph. Because for him it would not be a choice so much as it would be the only way out of something he never truly chose. Victory – or maybe fulfilment? I can’t think of quite the right word – for him would be getting to be himself in the end; getting to have a life he chooses, getting to live free of this fate that was set upon him. Whereas victory – or fulfilment – for Egwene may well be to be absolutely herself at the end, to hold nothing back and to give her life for the world.

So…yeah, I worry about her pushing herself too hard as well. I just don’t think she’s going to stop doing that. I think it will very likely mean her death. But if that’s the case, I also don’t think it would be a…meaningless death. It would be one of those sad-but-not-tragic sorts of deaths. Where it’s sad but in its own way it’s a kind of fulfilment of character.

Or I could be wrong.

That’s always a very strong possibility.

“My days are spent in solitude, with the occasional beating to provide spice. These meetings at night help me survive.”

“Is it difficult to endure?” Siuan asked softly.

‘Well, I’m kept in a cell that is essentially a box and beaten regularly but nah, this is fine’.

(Egwene does a better This Is Fine than I do).

Then again, it’s hardly her first captivity. But where Rand’s subsequent captivities only made his fear of confinement worse and dragged him even deeper into distrust and hardening himself, Egwene has – unsurprisingly, given how these two characters’ arcs relate – gone in almost the opposite direction.

Egwene’s response to being collared – and the way she reacted when freed from it – was similar to Rand’s response to the box. Different in scale, because one happened in book 2, when Egwene was still just coming into her power an done happened in book 6, when…well…They will pay. I am the Lord of the Morning. But while Egwene definitely still carries some of that trauma and resulting fear of being collared, this doesn’t compound that. In part, it helps that it’s not the same kind of captivity. But it also helps that she sees a purpose in it; this is a part of the war she’s fighting, and she does it for the White Tower. She embraces pain because there is a reason for it – not because on some level she believes she deserves it. She embraces it so that she can endure it, but does not use it as a form of self-flagellation in order to harden herself. She instead learns to accept it. And she doesn’t tell herself ‘this is what comes of trusting’ or ‘this is what comes of not being strong enough’. She doesn’t internalise it, even as she embraces it.

Because she has chosen this.

“It just occurred to me. This is what it must have been like for Rand. No, worse. The stories say he was locked in a box smaller than my cell. At least I can spend part of the evenings chatting with you. He had nobody. He was without the belief that his beatings meant something.”

Oh Egwene. There’s something so…almost cathartic about seeing her say this, seeing her understand. Because that puts her in a group of maybe…one or two other people? And she gets to the heart of it in a way, but understanding that fundamental difference between their situations: he was alone, and without the reassurance that this served a purpose. Whereas she can hold to that, and she can reach out to some of her support base, and know that there is a reason for her pain.

It’s a rather perfect illustration of the whole ‘parallels but inversions’ pattern of their storylines – there’s a very obvious point of similarity in that they’re both held in a box and beaten (at Elaida’s direction, no less)…but that’s where the similarities end. And that’s how so much of their stories have been: points of similarity in terms of the situation, and then nearly opposite approaches or responses to it.

Also this is lovely because it shows so clearly how she still cares about Rand, even if the Dragon Reborn is a problem to be dealt with.

“Each day I endure is another proof that Elaida’s will is notlaw. She cannot break me. Her support from the others is eroding. Trust me.”

Siuan nodded. “Very well,” she said, rising. “You are Amyrlin.”

And here we have the value of strength rather than hardness. Rand smiled when he was taken out of the box and beaten, but it was the hardest thing he had ever done; it was a brittle sort of defiance, because he was being broken. He had no one but Lews Therin and nothing to hold on to except the belief that this is what comes of trusting Aes Sedai and so he tried to endure but it was such a brittle endurance. Whereas Egwene can draw strength from those she trusts, because she still has those connections. Egwene can embrace pain knowing it serves her purpose. And so Egwene cannot be broken this way. She’s not grimacing in defiance and desperately holding on; she’s suffering but her belief and determination and sense of self are intact.

“I always believed you had potential,” Siuan corrected. “Well, you’ve fulfilled it. Some of it at least. Enough of it. However this storm blows through, you’ve proven one thing. You deservedthe place you hold.”

It’s a nice moment, and yet another sense of a character’s growth completed or all but completed, a readying for the ending. They’re all coming into who they are, who they have been becoming for the last eleven books.

Well.

Rand is something of a special case. He’s also reaching what feels like the culmination of a path he’s been on since almost the beginning, but in his case it’s a nadir rather than an apex. And yet, I think that’s a necessary step in his case, the darkest hour before the dawn.

Egwene is, rather understandably, reluctant to leave Tel’aran’rhiod because embracing pain is all well and good but there’s no reason to hurry back to it if you don’t have to.

I feel the same way waking up on Monday mornings.

Egwene had long since stopped being unnerved by the eerie lack of people in Tel’aran’rhiod. But this camp was different somehow. It looked as a war camp might after all the soldiers had been slaughtered on the battlefield. Deserted, yet still a banner to proclaim the lives of those who had occupied it. Egwene felt as if she could see the division that Siuan had talked about, tents clumped together like bunches of sprouting flowers.

The strength of the rebel camp is waning, with Egwene no longer there to hold the centre. Deserted but with a banner to proclaim those who occupied it is pretty much right on the nose. They’re still ostensibly holding to their position, but without the impetus or heart she provided. It’s a brittle thing, now, a hollow rebellion. She doesn’t have much time.

Because this is a part of the division of the Tower – it is divided within itself and against itself, and so long as there is division, there will be weakness. If she is to unite it, she must unite the whole Tower; she held the rebels together for a time, but that’s not enough when there’s a greater division still unhealed.

It was healthy to have the women planning and preparing; the trouble was when they began to regard others of their kind as enemies, rather than just rivals.

You could expand that to all of humanity at this point, Egwene.

And this is where I sort of wonder if maybe…could Egwene be the one to finally achieve a treaty or some kind of peace with the Seanchan? They’re moving on the Tower and she’s trying to unite the Tower from within and she very much has a history with the Seanchan – she’s the first of the main characters to have such a history – and it would be a way of bringing a sort of closure to that part of her arc. A way of healing or moving on from what was done to her, and laying the foundations for something better.

So what if their attack on the Tower is a way for her to unite the Aes Sedai, but then a chance to perhaps offer the Seanchan a truce rather than defeat? What if Elaida’s Foretelling about Rand facing the Amyrlin and knowing her anger is tied in some way to the dual but opposite prophecies of Rand binding the nine moons to serve him and the Dragon Reborn kneeling before the Crystal Throne?

And if that’s how the attack is thwarted, if she ends it by forging some kind of truce between them, it would be a rallying point for the Tower around her as well, because she would be the one who not only foretold this attack but saved them from it and future ones…

Rand failed to make peace with the Seanchan, and his and Egwene’s arcs have so long been this series of parallels and opposites, so it would be fitting for this to be another one. Rand to walk calmly to peace talks and everything to fall apart as both sides immediately turn to their own attacks afterwards, and Egwene to face a battle and come out with a peace treaty. There would be a very nice symmetry to something like that.

What if the White Tower didn’t unseat Elaida? What if, despite Egwene’s progress, the rifts between the Ajahs never healed? What then? Go to war?

There was another option, one that none of them had brought up: that of giving up on reconciliation permanently. Setting up a second White Tower. It would mean leaving the Aes Sedai broken, perhaps forever. Egwene shuddered at the prospect, and her skin itched, rebelling against the thought.

But what if she had no other choice? She had to consider the ramifications, and she found them daunting.

Yeah that’s about as much a solution as balefiring a fortress is mercy. But it’s a sign of how much she’s grown and matured that Egwene forces herself to consider the possibility of failure, and to actually think through what it would mean. What the other options are. What she’s committing herself to, and what will happen if she doesn’t succeed. Because she could fail. She’s about as determined as it’s possible for a person to be, but she’s not infallible, and there are things she cannot control, and it could all still go wrong. So she forces herself to face what that would look like. Even here, locked in a cell. Even as she has to hold fast to the belief that her pain means something. Because she also has to look at the possibility that it won’t.

Also…the Aes Sedai have been broken since the Breaking of the World, really. Ever since the male Aes Sedai went mad and saidar was left unbalanced by tainted saidin. And there is a second tower already: the Black Tower. The Asha’man, separate from the Aes Sedai.

She would bring the White Tower Aes Sedai to her side. Elaida wouldfall. But if not…then Egwene would do what was necessary in order to preserve the people, and the world, in the face of Tarmon Gai’don.

Determination and conviction, but that undercurrent now of pragmatism and realism. It’s not an easy duality to hold. She’s come a long way.

Ah, good old need. Possibly the closest this series comes to deus ex machina on the regular but hey, sometimes you…uh…need that. I suppose it’s really just letting any character be temporarily ta’veren in the World of Dreams. Of course, ta’veren is that wonderfully paradoxical way of circumventing deus ex machina by turning it into a part of your worldbuilding, so…fair play. Surrender to control?

What did she need to know, what did she need to see?

Wise questions to ask, all things considered.

It’s something else I like about how Egwene has grown: she hasn’t lost that core of stubborn determination that has seen her through so much, but she has gained an openness to advice and an acceptance of the fact that she does not and cannot ever know everything, that she might be wrong or might be missing something. And the corresponding ability to seek out and be open to whatever that might be. It reminds me of what Lan said to Rand, about a portion of wisdom being the understanding that you can’t know everything, and that sometimes what you’re missing is the most important piece. And a portion of courage being to go on anyway.

She presses on, but she also looks for guidance and advice when she knows there’s more. She uses need here not to find a solution to her problems, but to see what the Pattern thinks she should know or see, to see what she might be missing, because she’s willing to be shown it, and to take it into account.

(It would be nice if more people did that in real life from time to time).

Need takes her to a fire, apparently. How…*looks at last chapter again*…ironic.

In the middle of a camp of the Tuatha’an. I think maybe I see where this is going.

She could almost hear the flutes and drums, could almost imagine those flickers from the firepit to be the shadows of dancing men and women. Did the Tuatha’an still dance, with that sky still full of gloom, the winds so full of ill news? What place was there for them in a world preparing for war?

But what place is there for war, in a world that has no place for dancing? What purpose is there to that war, if not to allow for life? Without that, you end up where Rand is: looking only to the war and its victory, and not to the reason, or to anything that comes after. And at that point, the only purpose is war itself, and what future is that?

If I were a slightly more cynical person than I am, I might respond with ‘the one we live in’ but apparently in this, the year of our lord two thousand and nineteen, I still retain some semblance of optimism.

Maybe that’s just because it’s my favourite season and I have an excellent playlist of classical music on in the background a full mug of the world’s best green tea sitting right next to me, so nothing can look too bad.

(I am absolutely a caricature of myself in this moment).

For a moment, she let her gown change to that of a simple, woollen Two Rivers dress of green, much like the one she’d worn during her time visiting the Travelling People. She stared into those non-existent flames, remembering and pondering.

…In a moment, she would step out of Tel’aran’rhiod and return to her wounds. In a moment she would face the Aes Sedai outside, and become the Amyrlin again. But for now, she only wanted to sit, and remember an innkeeper’s daughter named Egwene al’Vere.

Couldn’t help myself, sorry.

Best not to wonder what has become of Aram, Egwene. That way lies madness, pretty much literally.

Yes, this group would still dance. They would dance right up until the day when the Pattern burned away, whether or not they found their song, whether or not Trollocs ravaged the world or the Dragon Reborn destroyed it.

And that’s what they’re fighting for. This gets into Sanderson’s ‘journey before destination’ a little bit, but is also absolutely consistent with the way Jordan has painted the conflict: it’s not just about winning the war. It’s about how, and why, and what you do with the life you have even when the apocalypse is hanging over you.

It’s what Rand has forgotten, and what Egwene has held on to. Neither of them can truly control the Pattern – well, okay, Rand’s certainly been making a go at it lately, and I suppose almost tearing it to pieces would sort of count in a way maybe I guess – but while Rand has been pulled into the view that this means he has no choices, Egwene takes the opposite view and claims what agency she can. It’s not just about what’s coming; it’s about how they face it.

Had she let herself lose sight of those things which were most precious? Why did she fight so hard to secure the White Tower? For power? For pride? Or because she felt it really was best for the world?

Was she going to suck herself dry as she fought this battle?

Well…in answer to that last question, I think very likely yes. But the whole point is that she’s asking herself these questions, asking herself why. What is she fighting for. What purpose does this serve. If she chooses to give herself to this – the key word there being chooses – what is she doing it for?

They’re the questions Rand cannot ask himself, because that would mean holding on to some form of hope, and that’s too painful. And because he does not believe he has any choices, so it would hurt too much to taunt himself with the notion that he could choose to fight for something, that he could choose how and why to fight at all, that he could choose what has already been chosen for him.

They’re facing the same vital questions, these two, and yet they again end up on opposite sides. Because Egwene sees choice, where Rand sees only necessity.

Yet I think this is exactly where Rand needs to end up – just as need has brought Egwene here, to remind her.

She had chosen – or, would have chosen – the Green and not the Blue. The difference wasn’t just that she liked the way the Greens stood up and fought; she thought that the Blues were too focused. Life was more complicated than a single cause. Life was about living. About dreaming, laughing and dancing.

I have very little to add to this, because…yes. She gets it. It’s not just about getting to the Last Battle at any cost, or even about winning the Last Battle at any cost. It’s about what that cost is paid for; it’s about the future a victory would enable. And in looking past that single cause, there’s a way to find choice again, rather than simply duty. Duty is ‘I must win this battle’. Choice is ‘I will fight this battle so that there will be a future in which people can live a life beyond this war’.

This is also probably the first explanation of Egwene’s Ajah preference that makes sense to me. Even if it is a little ironic that Egwene al’Vere, who throws herself completely and entirely into everything she does, thinks the Blues are too focused. But this is part of that realisation, I suppose – that she needs to remember why she’s doing this in the first place. That it can’t just be about the cause, the way it could for someone like Moiraine, who took that as her own way of accepting and choosing fate.

It reminds me of what Vandene said to Moiraine: “Blues. Always so ready to save the world that you lose yourselves.” And a character like Moiraine…part of her strength is that she can do that, and somehow still remain herself. They need someone like her, who can do that, but that’s…not something that works for every character.

Blah Gawyn blah.

She loved him. She would bond him. Those desires of her heart were less important than the fate of the world, true, but they were still important.

This, precisely. Ignoring the fact that it’s Gawyn, but aside from that, she getsit. She is allowed to want things. She is allowed to care, allowed to make choices. She can prioritise her duty and the needs of the world – and that prioritisation is pretty key here – but that doesn’t have to exclude her ability to be a person with wants and desires and choices. She doesn’t have to deny herself those things that make her who she is. Because at that point, what is there to hold on to? What point is there to fighting at all?

And Rand has, at this point, decided the opposite. “I don’t know how human the Dragon Reborn can afford to be.” He cannot want anything, because he is a force and a tool and a weapon, not a person. He cannot choose anything, because he is the Dragon Reborn, a piece of the Pattern and nothing else. And so he has torn away or suppressed anything that makes him Rand, and in doing so has lost that source of strength that he views as a weakness. He has lost that surrender-to-control ability to face his fate and yet choose it, because there is a reason and a purpose for him to do so, beyond it being required of the Dragon Reborn. And that makes it so much harder to endure, and takes him closer to this cliff edge of ‘it would be easier, it would be merciful, to just end it all’.

That’s not strength; that’s shattering.

Though the sky bubbled in black turmoil, something cast a shadow from the Tower, and it fell directly on Egwene. Was this a vision of some sort? The Tower dwarfed her, and she felt its weight, as if she were holding it up herself. Pushing on those walls, keeping them from cracking and tumbling.

Rand shadowed by a mountain, Egwene shadowed by the Tower. Dragon and Amyrlin; Dragonmount and the White Tower. And some small light atop each, casting that shadow onto them.

She stood for a long while there, sky boiling, the Tower’s perfect spire throwing its shadow down onto Egwene. She stared up at its peak, trying to decide if it was time to just let it fall.

No, she thought again.

Again it comes down to such a simple and yet monumental difference in the assertion of agency. Both Egwene and Rand, Dragon and Amyrlin, are shadowed by the symbol of their role. Both feel its weight, both struggle to hold it up.

Yet in Rand’s case, he sees that mountain as something he must carry, until the time comes when he can die and be free of it, because that is the only way. For Egwene…she looks at it, and wonders if she should just let it go, and decides not to. She chooses this. And that makes it more bearable.

I Rand’s case the mountain is a…pressure, a weight on him, seeking to crush him. In Egwene’s case it’s still a weight, but she sees her role as supporting it, holding it together rather than struggling underneath it.

Anyway I love the way they are so similar and yet so opposite; I know you probably couldn’t tell from the last several thousand words.

It’s just such a good way of highlighting those differences, and in doing so showing indirectly where the core of Rand’s own struggle is. And also showing the importance of Egwene’s choices and mindset, as we’ve seen where the opposite leads. Both storylines and arcs play off of and complement each other, so that together you get something slightly more than the sum of their parts.

And back to the waking world and pain.

She did not complain. No yells, no cries, no begging. She forced herself to sit up despite the pain, smiling to herself at how it felt.

Her refusal to cry out or beg or show them discomfort is not a strain on her in the same way as it would be if she were resisting this pain, or if she had no belief that it was for a purpose. But because she embraces that, there’s a much greater depth and strength to her endurance and defiance. It feels less brittle, more sustainable.

She sat back down, cross-legged, and took deep breaths, repeating to herself that she wantedto be locked in this room.

That deliberate assertion of agency, to remind herself of the strength it brings. Of course it helps that she actually could escape if she decided to – that this is actually in many ways a choice – but it’s the recognition of it as such, the decision to cast her situation in such a light, that makes the crucial difference, I think. That’s what so much of her story is based in: the hero-by-choice rather than necessity. The importance of choosing, even when it just means choosing what is necessary, or choosing to follow what is asked of her.

The words, repeated in her head, helped stave off the panic at considering yet another day within this cell.

While locked in a box, her mantra becomes an assertion of agency and choice, while Rand’s became a litany of self-flagellating anger and admonishments to never trust again, to be harder.

What would she have done without the nightly dreams to keep her sane? Again, she thought of poor Rand, locked away. She and he shared something now. A kinship beyond a common childhood in the Two Rivers. They had both suffered Elaida’s punishments. And it hadn’t broken either of them.

That last part is somewhat debatable, but what I really like here is the depth of compassion and respect she shows. She doesn’t equate their situations and claim superiority. She’s also already acknowledged the differences in the specifics of their situations, and thinks she has an advantage here by being able to reach out in dreams, and by having the comfort of knowing this means something. And given that she is currently imprisoned and in pain and suffering, that kind of compassionate understanding is��impressive.

I’ve spent a lot of this chapter contrasting the way she and Rand deal with situations that on the surface are similar, but I want to reiterate that my point isn’t to say Egwene is superior because of the way she looks at and handles this, nor is it to try to quantify their relative degrees of suffering. But there’s a reason we’re presented with these two similar yet different situations, and a lot of it is to highlight those aspects that are different, and to let us begin to understand why. It’s easier to see how they each end up where they are when you have something to contrast it with.

And Egwene, also, doesn’t make the comparison as a way of claiming superiority, or as a value judgement of any sort. It’s a source of similarity to her, when so much has pulled them apart. They shared a childhood, and now they share this, horrible as it is. But in that, she chooses to focus on shared strength. There’s a great deal of implicit respect in that; that and this empathy are going to be important, I think, in holding them together and allowing them to face the Last Battle as allies, even when so much of their roles puts them at odds. It won’t be easy, but they have these underlying threads to help them (in a way that Latra Posae and Lews Therin perhaps did not…)

Also, Egwene? This is definitley not the first or only thing you two share beyond the Two Rivers. You two should compare notes sometime, when you uh…have a break from saving the world.

She would not break, particularly not while she could spend the nights in Tel’aran’rhiod. In fact, in many ways, those were her days – spent free and active – while these were her nights, in inactive darkness. She told herself that.

She tells herself that, because so much is about perception. Perceiving it as her choice, believing it to be. And perception is so much of the difference between her and Rand, as we see over and over when they face these parallel events and moments in their respective stories. She sees herself as choosing while he sees himself as chosen, and so much of the differences spiral from there.

Time for her regularly scheduled torture except wait no it’s a change in the routine. Probably not for the better, given that this is Katerine.

Ah. Elaida’s given up on imprisoning Egwene, probably because it’s having no effect whatsoever, and has decided to shift the blame to Silviana.

And Katerine is the new Mistress of Novices. That makes her the third confirmed member of the Black Ajah to hold the position in the series (if we count New Spring). This is some Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor level curse.

Elaida was more competent than Egwene had assumed.

Unfortunately.

That’s part of the problem: Elaida’s just competent enough to maintain a position that allows her incompetence to ruin everything. She’s like those people you run into at almost any company who have clearly been promoted just a little too high, but they’re not quite incompetent enough to be removed from their role, so instead it’s just a mess.

After spending so long locked up, it felt wonderful simply to be able to walk.

I’m reminded so strongly here of that part of Rand’s imprisonment where he hallucinates just…walking. You could extend that to his entire role, really; all he wanted at one point was to be able to just…be. Something as simple as just walking, free of chains or responsibilities or a destiny.

But she’d won. The realisation was just beginning to dawn on her. She’d won! She’d resisted the worst punishment Elaida could contrive, and had come out victorious!

This freedom is a victory to Egwene, in a way Dumai’s Wells was…er…not, for Rand. She’s not completely free, and she hasn’t completely won, but it is a victory nonetheless. Whereas Dumai’s Wells was far more decisive, and yet significantly less triumphant.

And everything looks brighter, even as she knows she still has more to do. (As after Dumai’s Wells everything looked darker, even though it was a very thorough ‘win’). It’s all about perception.

Why does Egwene keep referring to Elaida as ‘the Amyrlin’? Why does she give Elaida that title, when she claims it for herself? Is that just a Sanderson slip?

Saerin wants to talk to Egwene and is going to put up with exactly zero (0) bullshit from Egwene’s Red minders in her efforts to do so.

“Being seen in your company can be rather worth that risk, these days. I wanted to determine something.”

“What?” Egwene asked, curious.

“Well, I actually wanted to see if they could be pushed around.”

Ha. I like her. It’s just the right level of petty. And on a less petty note, tides have definitely shifted in the Tower. Still not enough for Egwene to claim a full victory yet, but what was begun in Honey in the Tea has continued and gained momentum, it would seem.

“[Reds] see it as a major failing on Elaida’s part.”

“She should have killed me,” Egwene said with a nod. “Days ago.”

“That would have been seen as a failure.”

She’s so matter-of-fact in discussing the possibility of her own execution, in terms of its strategic merit. Perhaps again because she has made her choice, and will see it through. She accepted the possibility of execution early on; she has contingency plans around it now, of course, but when she said she would be willing to die for the Tower, she was not lying. And so, once she’s accepted that and made it just another part of her choice – not something to be sought out but also not something to be fought if it could serve a purpose – she can look at it clearly.

Ah, so there’s more to the story of Silviana’s removal.

Oh damn.

“Silviana demanded to be heard by the full Hall while it was sitting,” Saerin explained. “She stood before the lot of us, before Elaida herself, and insisted that your treatment was unlawful. Which, likely, it was. Even if you aren’t an Aes Sedai, you shouldn’t have been placed in such terrible conditions." Saerin glanced at Egwene. “Silviana demanded your release. She seemed to respect you a great deal, I should say.”

Slow clap for Silviana. Wow. That’s quite a move to make, given Elaida’s entire reign as Amyrlin and what she’s done to those who have defied her. But this is where Egwene’s strength pays off: she gave Silviana, and perhaps has given others, the impetus and reason to find theirs. Silviana watched firsthand as Egwene held to her convictions day after day, despite being beaten and punished for them, despite Elaida and everyone else. And so Silviana has now done the same. She has faced the Hall and refused to back down or bow to Elaida’s demands, despite the consequences. Egwene has given her, and given the others, an example of that core of strength and conviction, even if it means defiance. And now that has taken root.

“She denounced Elaida, calling for her to be removed as Amyrlin. It was…quite extraordinary.”

Yeah, Silviana’s kind of awesome.

This could be another turning point; the other Aes Sedai have seen Egwene’s example, and perhaps been swayed by it in some cases, but now it’s not just the novices who have been won over. Now, Silviana has taken up Egwene’s example and made it plain for all the rest to see, and where one has gone, others may follow. It’s not about whispered hints or veiled requests for advice anymore. Now the call has been made not just by a rebel Amyrlin dressed as a novice, but by a member of Elaida’s own Ajah, from within the Tower, in front of the Hall. That’s harder to ignore, and once that first step has been taken, once that particular threshold has been crossed, it’s much easier to carry momentum.

“What did Elaida do to her?”

“Ordered her to take up the dress of a novice,” Saerin said. “Just about caused an uproar in the Hall itself.” Saerin paused. “Silviana refused, of course. Elaida has declared that she is to be stilled and executed. The Hall doesn’t know whatto do.”

And so Elaida has done exactly what Egwene tried to hint or warn the others she might: carry her power too far. If she demoted Shemerin, what is to stop her from demoting any who disagree with her? If the Aes Sedai let her get away with these things early on, it will only enable her to push them further…and now she has. And so it comes to a head, because now Silviana, unlike Shemerin, refuses to accept that from Elaida. While Elaida has now ordered execution for someone who stands up to her and dares to defy her in something she should never have had the power to do anyway. It’s forcing the Hall to actually make a choice now, to take a side.

I want credit for making it through that entire paragraph without a single reference to real-world politics.

“Light! She mustn’t be punished! We must prevent this.”

There’s a certain amusing irony to hearing this from Egwene, who adamantly refused rescue or aid from her own faction when she was captured and subjected to Elaida’s punishments.

“Prevent it?” Saerin asked. “Child, the Red Ajah is crumbling! Its members are turning against one another, wolves attacking their own pack. If Elaida is allowed to go through with killing one of her own Ajah, whatever support she had from within the ranks will evaporate. Why, I wouldn’t be surprised, when the dust settles, to see that the Ajah has undermined itself to the point that you could simply disband it and be done with them.”

“I don’t want to disband them,” Egwene said. “Saerin, that’s one of the problems with Elaida’s way of thinking in the first place! The White Tower needs all of the Ajahs, even the red, to face what is coming. We certainly can’t afford to lose a woman like Silviana just to make a point.”

There’s so much division, and so much anger between the Ajahs and the Aes Sedai in general, that it’s hard to put aside some desire for revenge or even just to see the ‘other side’ get what they ‘deserve’. But this is where Egwene’s ability to see past that, to seek a true unification of the Tower, becomes so important. Because someone has to be able to look past that.

Yes, this could undermine Elaida. But it’s not really about undermining Elaida anymore; as Egwene realised earlier, it’s about uniting the Tower, which is a similar fight in some ways but a very different one in others. It means she can’t let this continue as another step in the conflict. She can’t let the Red Ajah dissolve just to make a point, to get some kind of payback for the dissolution of the Blue, because all that does is serve more discord.

But to be able to keep so strongly to that conviction after being mistreated and held prisoner and beaten because of them is…impressive, to say the least.

“Do you really think you’re in control here, child?”

Egwene met her eyes. “Do you want to be?”

Saerin’s response is, appropriately (translated to modern English): Fuck no.

It’s a good response, not just because it’s a clever retort but because it’s genuinely a good question. And a good way to make someone stop and think for a second. Who would want to inherit this mess, and be held responsible for almost inevitable failure? (Sometimes I feel just a little bit sorry for Theresa May).

It’s another strength of Egwene’s; or rather, another complexity of the situation she’s come to fully understand. This isn’t about power, or about who gets to be Amyrlin, or even who’s right and who’s wrong. It’s not about winning. It’s about preserving the Tower, however that can be done.

So Saerin’s off to stage something of a prison break of her own, and Egwene’s turning this into an object lesson for the Reds watching her.

Barasine doesn’t want to go watch one of the tenser moments of Tower history because she promised to hold Egwene’s shield, Egwene realises she might actually be the only adult in the room and pinky-swears not to touch saidar, Barasine’s not biting, so Egwene just sends a novice for some nice hot forkroot tea because she is so beyond done with everyone’s shit.

Egwene actually drinks the forkroot, too. It’s like when she started laughing while Silviana was beating her. She’s reached this level of both commitment and understanding to the actual cause and the actual problems that need to be addressed, that from this perspective everything else looks so ridiculous. She’ll have to drink forkroot to get the two Reds to try to prevent the collapse of their own Ajah? Fine, just put some honey in it had have done. There’s a sense of urgency to everything, but all the individual pieces just look so…small. So unnecessary, so petty and ridiculous and why would she even pause for half a second if she can easily find a way past it? What does a little forkroot matter, compared to the fact that the Tower is falling apart from within?

“Hello, Egwene,” Verin said, taking a sip from a steaming cup of tea.

Probably not forkroot this time. But more importantly, um, what? Verin what are you doing here and how did you get here and why?

“I have work to be about.”

“Hmm, yes,” Verin said, taking a calm sip of her tea. “I suspect that you do. By the way, that dress you are wearing is green.”

DID SHE JUST.

DID WE JUST FIND OUT.

DID VERIN JUST PLAY HER HAND.

Verin just played her hand.

She just.

That.

What.

It’s not even the fact that she can lie that’s so surprising; that much, I sort of suspected though I’ve never been sure (and even now, there are at least two options).

But first giving that letter to Mat, and now saying this straight out, to Egwene. Dropping the cover she’s kept for…the entire series and based on her thoughts, a very long time before that…

This is her endgame, somehow. So what is it? And why? Why here and why now and AL;FSLEKAJRS VERIN OH MAN.

“Yes, I thought that might get your attention,” Verin said, smiling.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

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