#WHEN LIANDRIN TUCKED HER HAIR

[nestadevries]

Chapter 12 | Flames In The Shadow

Notes: "I knew Liandrin's voice changed when she was under pressure. She'd sort of taken on this tiny voice, as it were, in the Tower to prove to people that she was just as good as Moiraine. But I knew that she had this peccadillo, or this sort of vulnerability, that when she was under pressure or angry, she would revert back to her rougher roots." - Kate Fleetwood - around 6k words

The morning light crept in through the thin curtains, painting pale gold across the sheets. The room was still. Nesta lay on her back, one hand tangled in Liandrin’s soft hair, the other resting gently along the curve of her spine. Liandrin’s body was draped across her, head tucked just beneath the girl’s collarbone.

Nesta’s eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but her mind was full of the image from yesterday. Liandrin, beaten and bloodied, barely able to walk. That hollow look in her eyes. The bruises, the pain. All of it carved into Nesta’s memory like a scar.

She could feel the way Liandrin clung to her now, not desperately, but vulnerably, like someone who had finally allowed herself to rest. Her fingers traced slow, unconscious patterns along Nesta’s ribs. She hadn’t said a word since the night.

Then, quietly, Liandrin spoke, her voice a faint murmur muffled by Nesta’s skin. “There was another with me. She died the moment the fight started. I barely had time to react.”

Nesta’s hand stilled in her hair, fingers curling slightly. “They sent you into that alone?” Her voice cracked, a thread of disbelief and fury running through it.

“I think they wanted me to fail.” Liandrin lifted her head just enough to rest her chin on Nesta’s chest. Her blue eyes were tired but clear.

The words sat between them with heaviness. Nesta didn’t speak at first. Her hands flexing as if she wanted to grab hold of something, anything to stop the anger rising inside her.

“You don’t send two people on a mission like that, not unless you want them both dead.” Nesta said finally, her voice low and rough.

Liandrin gave a weak laugh, more a breath than a sound. “Well, they got halfway there.”

“No.” Nesta said fiercely. She cupped Liandrin’s cheek, the one that was no longer swollen thanks to her healing. “You came back. You survived. And you’re not going anywhere.”

Liandrin blinked hard, her lashes damp. Her hand moved up slowly, hesitantly, until it rested over Nesta’s heart. She felt it beating, strong and steady beneath her palm. The warmth of Nesta’s skin, the rhythm beneath it felt like an anchor in a sea that had nearly swallowed her whole.

She opened her mouth to speak. A breath escaped her lips, but the words tangled somewhere between her ribs and throat. She swallowed, trying to hold herself together. Her lips trembled.

Nesta tilted her head to look at her, her gaze soft but intent. “What is it?” she asked, her voice barely louder than the hush in the room.

Liandrin’s eyes searched hers, as if looking for a sign that it was safe to be honest. And when she found it, when she saw nothing but open, fierce care in Nesta’s expression, she finally let the words fall. “You’re the only one, who ever looked at me like I mattered.” she said.

The words cracked in the middle, like they’d been buried too long beneath the duty and the sharp edge of survival. There was no mask in her voice. Just the simple, devastating truth, laid bare in the morning light.

All the fights, all the tension, all the walls they’d torn down between them. It had all led to this moment. This tragic, undenying truth from a woman who had spent a lifetime building herself into someone untouchable. 

Nesta reached up and cupped the side of Liandrin’s face, her thumb brushing gently beneath her eye where a tear had begun to form. Her voice was steady, but thick with feeling. “You do matter. I love you, Lia.” she said softly.

The Aes Sedai didn’t respond right away. Her eyes closed beneath Nesta’s touch, and for a moment she just breathed, slow and careful, as though each breath might shatter the fragile stillness between them. Nesta’s thumb was still at her cheek, soft and steady with a quiet kind of devotion that made everything in Liandrin’s chest ache.

Her hand remained over Nesta’s heart. Feeling it, letting it guide her and then she moved.

It wasn’t a rushed thing, or impulsive. She lifted her head just enough that their eyes met again. Her hand slid up along Nesta’s collarbone, until she cradled Nesta’s cheek and then, with a breathless kind of reverence, she leaned in.

Her lips brushed Nesta’s, tentative at first, soft and searching, but when Nesta tilted her head and pressed back with the same quiet intensity, Liandrin deepened it.

Their mouths moved slowly together, like they had all the time in the world. There was no heat in it, not now. No hunger, just tenderness. The kind that came only after the walls had fallen and the truth had been spoken. It was a kiss of solace, of promise, of gratitude.

Liandrin made a soft sound, nearly a whimper, and Nesta’s hand slid into her hair, fingers tangling in those golden strands with the same devoted care she always gave her. She held her like she meant it. Like she always would.

When they finally pulled apart, it was only by a breath. Their noses touched. Their foreheads rested together, and Liandrin kept her eyes closed, savoring the stillness.

Nesta was the one to break the silence, her voice low and determined. “Let me heal you more.” she said gently.

Liandrin blinked, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.

“No.” she said quietly, but there was no force behind it. “You nearly collapsed yesterday. I won’t watch you hurt yourself again.”

But Nesta’s jaw tightened. She wasn’t angry, just stubborn, and impossibly full of love.

“I can handle it. You don’t have to carry this pain any longer, Lia.”

Liandrin saw it before she felt the quiet shimmer of the One Power beginning to rise around Nesta like a halo. The light bathed her skin in something soft and sacred, and her eyes, already so full of fire and fury, glowed now with something purer. Determination. Devotion.

Nesta’s hands hovered just above Liandrin’s ribs, not touching yet, waiting for the threads of the One Power to knit themselves into something useful, something healing.

Liandrin tensed on top of her, already preparing to argue again. “Nesta...”

“Hush.” The girl glanced at her, a flash of teasing warmth beneath the steel of her tone. “Let me take care of you.”

The weave descended. It was gentler than before, far more controlled. Nesta had clearly learned from yesterday. Not to push so hard all at once, to let the Power do its work at a pace she could manage. Still, the effort cost her. Liandrin could see it in the way her shoulders hunched slightly, in the beads of sweat already forming at her brow.

The older woman bit her tongue, letting Nesta work. And it hurt to see her so wrung out, so clearly struggling, and yet still giving so freely. Still choosing her.

Then, as Nesta leaned closer to adjust the flow of the weave around Liandrin’s side, her collar shifted slightly. The neckline of her sleep shirt dipped just enough to reveal the bruising.

Liandrin’s breath caught. Purple and dark, almost finger-shaped, wrapping around the side of her throat.

“Wait, what is that?” Liandrin said sharply, reaching up and catching Nesta’s wrist.

Nesta stilled. For a heartbeat, the glow of the Power faltered.

“What is what?” she asked, too quickly.

Liandrin sat up with effort, wincing as the healing settled into her bones. She reached for Nesta’s shirt and gently brushed the collar aside, revealing the bruises in full.

“Nesta, who did that to you?” Her voice was low now, dangerous in a different way.

Nesta’s eyes darted to the side, evasive. “It’s nothing. I must’ve hit something in my sleep.”

“You don’t bruise like that from a pillow.” Liandrin snapped, though the edge in her tone wasn’t anger. It was fear.

The younger woman swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important right now.”

Liandrin stiffened, the pain in her side forgotten for the moment. Her voice dropped, raw with quiet fury. “The hell it isn’t.”

Nesta flinched slightly. She didn’t speak right away, didn’t try to explain. Instead, she did the one thing that might cut through all of it.

She reached for Liandrin’s hand.

Their fingers met in the quiet space between them, and Nesta squeezed it tightly. Her hand was warm despite the trembling beneath her skin, and Liandrin felt the message more clearly than any words: I’m still here. I’m not falling apart.

“I promise I’ll tell you.” Nesta said quietly, her voice laced with exhaustion, but not fear. “Just not now.”

The look in her blue eyes held a storm barely contained. Shadows of something deeper flickered behind them. Pain, confusion, something else Liandrin couldn’t yet name. But even in her weariness, Nesta didn’t pull away.

Liandrin studied her, her sharp features softening despite themselves. She wanted to press, to demand answers. She deserved answers. But the fragile peace between them, the delicate closeness they’d carved out in the aftermath of pain felt like glass. And she wasn’t ready to shatter it.

“I’ll hold you to that.” she said at last, her voice quieter now, gentler, but still firm.

Nesta gave her a tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know.”

Liandrin leaned back, letting Nesta finish the healing. Letting herself trust her. But the image of those bruises burned in her mind. She let it go for now. But the silence did nothing to quiet the storm building inside her. In the back of her mind, a vow ignited and burned. Whoever had touched Nesta, whoever had hurt her, would answer for it. It didn’t matter how strong they were, how hidden in shadows, Liandrin would find them. She would make them regret the moment they laid a hand on what was hers.

-

Liandrin stood tall, despite the bruises and exhaustion that weighed heavily on her body. The cool stone walls of the White Tower seemed colder than usual today. She was used to being scrutinized, used to the games the Aes Sedai played, but this felt different. This time, it wasn’t just about power or influence, it was personal.

Siaun sat at the head of the small, dimly lit chamber, her eyes narrowed, calculating. Her gaze flicked briefly to Leane, who was standing off to the side.

Liandrin resisted the urge to cross her arms in front of her chest, a shield that might show vulnerability. Instead, she stood tall, her posture straight, betraying none of the tension that twisted inside her.

Leane’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as ever. “So, Liandrin Sedai, tell us again what happened on your mission.”

The Red Sister didn’t flinch. Her voice was calm, controlled, a practiced neutrality that had saved her more than once. “I was sent because of the rumors of a man channeling in that area. I was supposed to investigate and gather information about him. But when we arrived, we were ambushed by Trollocs. My companion Joline Sedai and her warder didn’t survive the attack. And I wasn’t able to retrieve any information about the man.”

Leane’s lips curled into something between a frown and a smirk. “That’s an interesting assessment. You’re telling me that you, an experienced Aes Sedai, failed because of Trollocs? You seriously expect us to believe that?”

Liandrin’s hands curled into fists at her sides, though she kept her composure. “I’m telling you the truth. The situation was beyond my control. There were too many of them, and we were completely unprepared for an assault of that scale. We didn’t have time to gather any useful intelligence before the ambush.”

Siuan’s voice broke through the tension. “So you’re blaming Trollocs for the failure of your mission, Daughter?”

She wanted to snap, to say something cutting, but she bit it back. Instead, she spoke slowly, each word measured. “I’m blaming the fact that I was sent into an area overrun with Trollocs, with no backup, no support. You’re asking why I failed, but the question is, why was I sent there alone to begin with?”

Liandrin’s eyes flickered to Leane, who had a subtle gleam in her eyes, that she was enjoying this. The White Tower’s politics were all about finding weakness, exposing cracks, and Liandrin was a target today. She knew it.

“I did what I could.” Liandrin said flatly, keeping her voice even. 

Siuan leaned forward, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the table in front of her. “And yet, this is not the first time you’ve come back empty-handed, Liandrin. Tell me, how many more failures can the Tower afford? You’re becoming a liability.”

The insult stung, but she didn’t show it. She knew the game. They wanted to break her, to test her loyalty, to see if she would crack under pressure. But she wasn’t going to let them see that.

Instead, she held Siuan’s gaze, unwavering. “I am not a liability. If the mission failed, it was not because of my actions. I did everything I could, but you sent me into a situation where survival was a struggle. The ambush was not something I could have predicted.”

Siuan’s brow furrowed. “Are you implying that the White Tower deliberately sent you into a dangerous situation?”

Liandrin felt a surge of frustration, but she kept it in check, letting her words hang in the air. “I’m not implying anything. I’m stating facts. The mission was compromised from the moment I set foot in that area. Trollocs were everywhere, and I was sent in with only one Sister, and no backup. It wasn’t a mission that could be completed by anyone, much less someone sent with the expectation to succeed without resources.”

“We’ll have to take this into consideration.” Siuan said, her tone colder than before. “But there’s more. We’ve received word that Nesta’s trial has been moved up. It’s scheduled for two days from now.”

Liandrin’s stomach twisted at the mention of Nesta. The news felt like another blow, another piece of the Tower’s cold manipulation. She wanted to rage against all of them, to destroy everything they stood for. But she couldn’t, not yet.

She simply nodded, masking her anger and frustration.

-

Liandrin returned to her quarters and the anger that had been bubbling within her since the questioning now seemed to reach a boiling point. She felt the weight of the White Tower’s indifference pressing down on her. She had been sent on a mission based on vague rumors, ambushed by Trollocs, and now she was being blamed for the failure.

Sighing deeply, she sank onto the sofa, her hands gripping the cushions as if they could somehow absorb the frustration and bitterness she felt. The entire situation felt as if the Tower had already decided her fate before she even set foot on the mission. The questioning, the lack of support, the casual way they dismissed her. Everything about it made her sick to her stomach.

Nesta was sitting at the far side of the room, her posture shifting when she saw the anger that was brewing in Liandrin’s expression. She immediately walked over to the sofa, sitting down beside her in silence.

Finally, Liandrin couldn’t hold it in anymore. “It’s always the same, isn’t it? Siuan, Leane, the whole damn Tower. They’re so blinded by their politics and their control, they can’t see what’s right in front of them.” She ground her teeth together, her voice rising. “They send me on a mission that’s practically a death sentence. And when the worst happens, when I’m ambushed by Trollocs and nearly killed, it’s my fault. My failure. They don’t care about what happened to me. They don’t care about the truth. They just care about their damn power and their precious image.”

She paused, the words choking her throat. Her hands shook, her nails digging into the fabric of the sofa as she tried to keep her composure. But she couldn’t. The frustration, the anger, the overwhelming sense of betrayal, it all came pouring out. “They’ll get rid of me. I’m just a pawn to them. They’ll find some excuse, some reason to throw me aside.”

Nesta’s heart hurt to hear her speak like that. Her voice was steady but firm as she spoke. “You are right. They sent you out there to fail.”

Liandrin’s eyes flickered to her, and for a moment, she seemed to shrink, the weight of her own admission settling in her chest. She blinked hard and then slowly met Nesta’s gaze. Her voice softened, becoming quieter but no less fierce. “I know it, but it still hurts. It’s exhausting, being treated like I don’t matter, like I’m nothing more than a tool for them to use.”

The younger woman leaned forward, taking Liandrin’s hand in her own, squeezing it tightly. “You matter to me. You matter more than they’ll ever understand.” she said firmly, her voice full of conviction.

Liandrin could feel the sincerity in Nesta’s words, but then, reality slammed back in as she remembered why she had come here in the first place. She hesitated, her voice lowering as she spoke the next words. “There’s more.” Liandrin let out a long breath, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing, “Your trial has been moved. It’ll happen in two days.”

The air between them seemed to grow heavy with that information. Nesta’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden shift. Her trial, everything was moving so fast. She had expected it, but hearing it from Liandrin made it feel more real, more urgent.

She leaned back slightly, her arms crossed in a composed but subtle attempt to steady herself. Beneath the surface, though, anxiety stirred, but she wouldn’t let it rule her. "Two days, it’s sooner than I thought.” she murmured, her voice steady but carrying a quiet edge of uncertainty.

Nesta kept her gaze fixed on Liandrin, trying not to let the tension creep into her expression. She needed to remain composed, for both of them. But in the back of her mind, there was a need for the trial to be over, so that she could finally move forward. She would join Liandrin’s Ajah, and stand with her. The idea filled her with both anticipation and urgency. She was ready to prove herself, to show them all that she was more than what they assumed.

There was a pause, and then Nesta’s voice softened, her eyes unwavering as she locked with Liandrin’s. "It’ll be over soon enough." she said, a quiet confidence in her words. "And I’ll be ready. I can handle it, Lia. I’m strong enough."

Liandrin didn’t answer right away, but Nesta could see the way her expression shifted, as though she needed to hear those words, even if she didn’t fully understand why.

Nesta leaned in slightly, her tone serious yet warm. "You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll fight for my place in the Tower. And for you." Her eyes softened, and she reached out, gently placing a hand over Liandrin’s again. "You’ve been through enough. I want to support you. Whatever comes, I’m with you."

There was something so fierce, so absolute in the way she spoke, that it seemed to fill the space between them. Liandrin’s gaze softened as she stared back at Nesta, and for a moment, it was like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

Liandrin swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t deserve your loyalty. But I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re with me."

Nesta squeezed her hand, the warmth of her touch offering a quiet reassurance. "You do deserve it and I’m not going anywhere." she replied firmly.

"Then, I guess we’ll take it one step at a time." Liandrin said, a small but genuine smile flickering at the edges of her lips.

Nesta smiled back, her heart feeling lighter. "One step at a time" she agreed, her gaze steady, determined.

The words still lingered in the air, a reminder of the bond they shared, a bond that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Even though everything around them was shifting, changing, they had each other.

-

Nesta watched as Liandrin slowly made her way to bed, the older woman’s movements stiff from exhaustion.

As Liandrin lay there, her eyes heavy with unspoken thoughts. She had been through so much, physically, mentally, yet here she was, trusting Nesta enough to let her in, to lean on her when she was falling apart. And it was almost too much for her, in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She wasn’t used to being cared for, being held without expectations.

Nesta sensed her unease, even if Liandrin didn’t voice it. She wanted to offer more comfort, but she also didn’t want to overstep.

“You’ve been through a lot today. And I am not going to mention the last two days.” Nesta said gently, her tone light but with underlying sincerity. “You’ve done more than enough. Let me take care of you for a bit.”

Liandrin’s eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to, trust me.” Nesta replied with a softness that made Liandrin pause.

It was that word, trust, that made Liandrin hesitate for just a moment. She had trusted Nesta with things she’d never shared with anyone before, things she had hidden for years. And yet, the thought of surrendering to someone else’s care was unfamiliar, even now. But she found herself nodding, the quiet vulnerability between them urging her to lean into this unexpected closeness.

Nesta shifted slightly, sitting closer to the edge of the bed.

“Alright, but no tricks.” Liandrin said.

The girl's hands, warm and steady, began to massage Liandrin’s feet. The gentle pressure of her fingers kneaded the sore muscles, working out the tension that had built up during the mission. Liandrin sighed, the relief instant, her eyes fluttering closed as she allowed herself to unwind under Nesta’s touch.

“I know you carry the weight of your past, but you don’t have to keep it all inside. Not with me.” Nesta started, eyes searching Liandrin’s face.

Liandrin’s breath hitched at the unexpected kindness. It was hard to let her walls down completely, but something in Nesta’s words softened the grip of her defenses. Her gaze flickered to the ceiling for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"I’m not used to being weak.” Liandrin confessed quietly. “In the Tower, I always have to wear a mask. From the early beginning I had to be what they wanted me to be. Cold and calculating. Never letting anyone see the cracks.”

Nesta’s hands paused, fingers lightly tracing the arch of Liandrin’s foot. “It’s okay to let the cracks show. We’re all broken in some way and that doesn’t make you weak.”

Liandrin exhaled softly, glancing at Nesta. “You make it sound so simple. I’ve spent so long convincing myself that being strong meant holding everything inside. But it’s exhausting. I’ve pushed people away for so long.” Her voice trailed off, the confession hanging in the air. She didn’t need to finish. Nesta understood.

“You don’t have to push me away.” Nesta said quietly, as she pressed down gently on the heel, adding a bit more pressure.

Liandrin inhaled deeply, her chest rising as the soothing massage seemed to unlock something inside her. The pain from her injuries wasn’t gone, but the weight on her heart, the heaviness of her mind, seemed to lift with each touch. “You know about my reputation, all the rumors... And yet, you still care for me.”

Nesta’s hands moved rhythmically, slow and sure, her touch firm yet comforting. “I don’t just care for you, Lia. I see you, the real you. Not the version the Tower forced you to become. But the one who’s still capable of love and kindness. The one who’s been hurt so many times but keeps fighting.” 

Liandrin’s heart thudded in her chest at the rawness of Nesta’s words. No one had ever looked at her that way, seen the real her without judgment or pity. There was no shame in Nesta’s gaze, no fear of what Liandrin might say or do. Just acceptance.

With a soft sigh, Liandrin let her head sink back into the pillow, the weight of the world slipping away. The ache in her body faded beneath the steady, soothing rhythm of Nesta’s hands. “You make it so hard to keep my walls up.” she muttered, a wry smile pulling at her lips.

Nesta chuckled softly, “Good, I’m not here to let you hide.” 

She continued her work, her thumbs pressing in slow, deliberate circles into the arches of Liandrin’s feet, coaxing tension from muscle and bone with practiced ease. Her fingers moved with purpose, firm where they needed to be, gentle where the skin was tender, as if she felt Liandrin’s body better than her own.

Liandrin exhaled slowly. It wasn’t just the physical relief, but the emotional release that came with Nesta’s words. And finally she smiled, a true, genuine smile.

“Thank you, Lioness.” she whispered, her voice quiet, but laden with more emotion than she expected to find. She wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or relief, but those two words were more than just gratitude.

Nesta’s hands slowed, her fingers trailing lightly over Liandrin’s feet as she looked at her. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re in this together. And that’s all that matters.” 

Liandrin’s smile deepened. "I never thought anyone would see through me." she murmured, the weight of her isolation creeping into voice.

Nesta didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. “I see you, Lia.” she whispered, her voice so steady, it felt like a vow. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Liandrin’s fingers trailing over her own arms as she reflected. The weight of the world seemed lighter now, but the vulnerability in the air remained. She let out a deep breath, then spoke, "When I first came to the Tower, it wasn’t easy. Even though I was talented, I was treated with disdain. There were whispers about my origins. They looked down on me for where I came from, for my accent..." She shook her head, the weight of that past still lingering. "They made me feel small. And my accent? I couldn’t even speak properly according to their standards. They mocked it, like I was some ignorant country girl who didn’t belong."

Her eyes flickered down, a shadow of old hurt flashing across her features. "I learned to change it. To sound like them, to be like them. But it didn’t change how they looked at me, how they treated me like a fool." Her lips tightened for a moment, the walls she had built coming into sharper focus in her mind. "I had to fight for every ounce of respect I earned. They saw me as nothing more than a tool. All the time, I had to show and prove them that I was worth something."

She glanced at Nesta then, her gaze softening, almost as though she was trying to gauge whether the younger woman would understand.

Nesta was listening, absorbing them. Slowly, she let go of Liandrin’s feet. The weight of her own memories settled heavily on her shoulders, but for the first time, she felt it was safe to talk about them.

"I think, I know what you mean." She swallowed hard, letting her gaze settle on Liandrin’s. "I wasn’t born into power, either. I grew up in Caemlyn, with a father who believed in me, and a mother who pushed me to be strong. She was tough on me, always reminding me that I had to rely on myself. I thought I could handle anything." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "But when I first arrived at the Tower, I immediately knew that I didn’t belong. Not in the same way they did. I wasn’t noble, I wasn’t polished. I was just a problem they had to fix."

Her voice quiet at first, but steady as she continued, "I tried to prove myself. But I was always the outsider. They saw me as reckless, chaotic, a wild card. Even when I was right, it didn’t matter. They treated me like I was too much trouble."

The older woman’s gaze softened, and she shifted slightly, "It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to be something, but constantly being told that you don’t fit the mold." Her eyes flickered over to Nesta, studying her. "But you did prove yourself. And you're still proving yourself. You’ve got more fire in you than they could ever handle."

"I still struggle with it." she admitted. "With my power, with who I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’m truly in control of it. Like I’m good enough."

"I’ve seen you. I know what you’re capable of. You’ll get there, in your own time." Liandrin said softly.

Nesta’s chest tightened. It felt strange to admit such vulnerability aloud, but it also felt freeing.

"There was one moment." she began, her voice growing more steady, more sure of herself, "The first time, I channeled… it happened because I was attacked by a man." Her breath hitched as the memory flashed across her mind, but she pushed it down, forced herself to continue. "I killed him with the Power... without any hesitation. I didn’t even think, it just happened. And afterward, I realized what I had done. What I was capable of and the worst part is… I still don’t know the limits of that darkness."

Liandrin’s gaze sharpened, and her expression softened, her voice gentle as she spoke. "You’ve been through a lot more than anyone knows, but you’re still here. Still standing. You’ve got more strength in you than you give yourself credit for."

Nesta nodded, her lips pressed together, a fleeting sense of pride swelling in her chest. But then, the doubt crept in again. She was still terrified that one day she wouldn’t be able to control it. "Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to be powerful enough to control it. To control myself."

Liandrin’s gaze never wavered. "You will. But it’s okay to admit when you don’t have all the answers. It’s alright to be uncertain." Her voice softened, "We may have our walls, our defenses, but we’re not so different, you and I."

Nesta smiled slightly. "I guess you are right as always."

Liandrin’s smirk grew, and she leaned back against the pillow, her tone turning playful again. "Well, someone has to keep you in line, Lioness.” She winked, her voice light and teasing, the weight of their earlier conversation fading just a little, replaced by the familiar spark between them.

In that moment, they both understood. Both of them had built walls to protect themselves from the world, from the Tower, from their own fears and doubts. But here, together, those walls didn’t need to be so high.

-

Moonlight poured down like silver rain, casting an ethereal glow over the endless glass garden. The air shimmered with magic, still and thick with the scent of roses, that surrounded Nesta in every direction. They bloomed in impossible colors, purple, black, crimson, white. Each one pristine, regal, and burning.

The flames curled around the petals in slow, elegant spirals. Nothing crumbled. Nothing turned to ash. The fire was not consuming, but possessing, dancing lazily along the flowers as if marking them.

Nesta stood barefoot on the cool mirrored ground, her reflection shining up at her. A flowing black and silver garment clung to her form with the same razor-sharp elegance Lanfear herself favored.

The garden was too beautiful. Unnaturally so every rose in perfect bloom, every petal unmarred by wind or time, even as fire danced across them. The mirrored floor reflected the stars overhead, creating the illusion that she was walking through the sky itself. It was the kind of place that should have inspired awe, maybe even peace.

But instead, it made her chest tight. There was something wrong beneath the beauty. Something that prickled at the edges of her awareness, like a whisper just out of hearing. The flames didn’t crackle. The silence was too heavy, too expectant, like the whole world was holding its breath.

A breeze whispered through the roses, and from behind a wall of burning blooms, Lanfear stepped into view. Her silver robes floated around her like mist, untouched by the fire licking at her hem. The moonlight caught in the dark strands of her hair and the cold steel in her eyes. She walked slowly, like a goddess, her gaze fixed entirely on Nesta.

“You always end up in the prettiest places, even in your nightmares.” Lanfear said softly, her voice almost fond.

“This doesn’t feel like a nightmare.”

“Not yet.” Lanfear agreed, circling her.

She moved with slow precision, hands folded behind her back. “But it will be. Because that’s what you expect. Isn’t it?”

Nesta didn’t answer.

She tilted her head. “You believe beauty must always come with pain.”

Nesta's throat tightened, but she kept her chin high. The firelight flickered against the silver of her costume, its regal design suddenly feeling too heavy, like it was stitched together with every expectation, every whisper of doubt that had ever followed her. The roses burned around her, casting glowing reflections across her skin, as if trying to consume her from the outside in.

Lanfear was right. She did expect pain, she braced for it. Welcomed it, because anything good, anything beautiful, had always been temporary in her life. And it never came without cost.

So she said nothing. But her silence spoke loud enough.

Lanfear’s voice dropped to a murmur. “You could change that. You could learn to control it. All of it. The pain. The power. The fear. You’ve been offered scraps, discipline, obedience, silence. I offer truth. Mastery.”

Nesta’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, defiance flickering beneath the uncertainty. Her jaw clenched, fists curling at her sides as though she could ground herself with nothing but raw will. But her heart was hammering from the temptation.

The Forsaken reached out, fingers brushing along Nesta’s cheekbone, light as a breeze, cold as starlight. A touch meant not just to comfort or provoke, but to claim. The gesture was deliberate, almost reverent, like a queen marking what was hers.

“Say the word and I’ll give it all to you.” she whispered, her breath a ghost against Nesta’s lips.

“You don’t scare me.” The girl's heart thundered, but her voice was steady. 

Lanfear smiled. “You should be terrified.”

Her tone was laced with wicked pleasure, like she relished Nesta’s stubbornness even as she prepared to break it. Her bright eyes glinted with something ancient and bottomless. “You’re standing in my world.” she said silkily. “Breathing my air, dressed like me. You think you’re resisting, but you’ve already stepped into the game. I can feel it.”

Nesta stepped back, spine rigid, defiant. “You’re just another cruel, desperate woman who didn’t get what she wanted. You wear power like a crown, but all I see is someone trying too hard to prove she’s not broken.”

That smile vanished. Lanfear’s eyes turned sharp, glassy with offense, rage, and hurt. For the briefest moment, her composure cracked.

Then the world shifted like a string had been pulled too tight and finally snapped. The roses around them flared, their flames burning white-hot, and the air thickened with tension, suffocating and electric.

In a flash, Lanfear’s hand lifted and power surged around Nesta’s body. Invisible cords snapped tight around her wrists and ankles, yanking her limbs outward. She was pulled off her feet and dragged back, her body spread in the air in a star-shaped position, bound to a crystalline post rising from the mirrored ground. It gleamed like moonstone, perfect, cold, and utterly inescapable.

Nesta’s breath caught as the bindings tightened. She struggled but it was useless.

The Forsaken approached slowly, her heels silent on the glass floor. The roses continued to burn around them, the flames casting sharp shadows across Nesta’s face. Her hand slid along Nesta’s jaw, then down to her throat. Not choking, just holding. Her fingers rested lightly over the pulse there. “So stubborn, so wild.” she said. “I could break you like glass. But I don’t want to break you. I want to reforge you.”

She stepped even closer, her breath brushing Nesta’s cheek. “You’re not a victim. You’re a weapon no one taught how to wield. They fear what you could become, but I desire it.”

Nesta snarled. “I’ll never serve you.”

“Not yet.” Lanfear said calmly.

She dragged a nail along the inside of Nesta’s arm, down toward her bound wrist, grazing just deep enough to sting. Her nail traced the veins like she could peel open Nesta’s soul. “Do you feel that?” Lanfear murmured, low and venom-sweet. “All that power inside you? It’s begging to be unshackled. You’re holding it back even now.”

“I control it.” Nesta hissed, her voice raw from restraint, her body trembling against the bindings that spread her out like a ritual sacrifice.

“No.” Lanfear whispered, brushing her lips just behind Nesta’s ear, cold breath dragging over her skin. “You fear it. You fear what you are when no one is watching. When no one is holding your leash.”

The roses around them roared, their flames deepening from orange to violent white, the petals curling into ash as fire consumed beauty. Heat licked at Nesta’s skin, unbearable, and yet she refused to look away. And something inside her snapped. Like a thread yanked too tightly, like a scream long held in the cage of her ribs. Power surged inside her like a tidal wave, wild and furious.

With a crack, one of the bindings shattered, splinters of glowing light searing through the dream. Then another. Nesta screamed, half fury, half freedom, and the garden detonated. Roses ignited all at once in a thunderclap of flame. The ground shook. The moon shattered overhead like glass. A cyclone of fire and force twisted around her, engulfing the garden, devouring the illusion.

Lanfear stumbled back, shielding her face with an arm as the blast tore through the dream. Her gown fluttered in the gale of Power. Her hair whipped around her face. But she wasn’t hurt or afraid. She was smiling widely.

When the firestorm finally ebbed and the dream settled into silence, Nesta stood alone in the smoldering ruins, her hair wild, wrists freed, arms trembling from the aftermath.

The Forsaken straightened slowly from the shadows. Her voice was quiet, but sharp as a blade “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Ash rained down like snowflakes, soft and glowing, settling across the scorched garden in delicate contrast to the ruin left behind. The roses were gone. Only smoldering stems remained, blackened and twisted. Nesta didn’t know if the fire had come from within or if she’d merely unleashed something already buried deep. 

A soft laugh echoed through the smoke. “Remarkable.” Lanfear purred, eyes devouring Nesta from head to toe. “You shattered the dreamscape.”

She looked so pleased, stopping just short of touching Nesta again. But close enough that the girl could feel the cool, electric radiance of her presence. “You don’t understand what you’ve just done, do you?”

Nesta’s hands trembled, the tiniest shiver running through her fingers, her heart beat too fast, too loud, but her eyes stayed locked on the woman before her, refusing to show fear even as it coiled deep in her gut.

Lanfear tilted her head, a slow smile creeping across her lips. “Not many would dare defy me in my own dominion. Fewer still would survive it.”

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “They tell you to fear your power. To cage it. To submit. But you were glorious just now, Nesta.” Her eyes darkened. “And glory should never be tamed.”

Nesta forced herself to hold that gaze. Her heart pounded, but her spine stayed straight. “You’re wasting your breath, Lanfear.” she snapped. “I’d rather burn everything than be yours.”

There was a pause, so brief it could’ve been mistaken for silence. Then Lanfear laughed, low and velvety, the sound curling like smoke around Nesta’s senses. It wasn’t cruel, not exactly. It was amused, delighted by Nesta’s defiance.

“Oh, girl, that’s what I love about you.” she breathed, stepping back at last. Her eyes shimmered with something darker than satisfaction. Hunger. Fascination. Obsession. It was the look of someone who had found a riddle she couldn’t wait to unravel.

“You fight like fire, and I’ve always had a fondness for things that burn.”

Lanfear trailed her fingers through the smoky air, each movement languid and deliberate, as if conducting the slow death of the dream itself. Around them, the broken glass garden began to ripple, trembling beneath some unseen pressure.

“You’ll call for me eventually.” she said, her back now to Nesta.

Nesta wanted to reject her. To tell herself it would never happen, that she wouldn’t fall for this. But a gnawing part of her, deep down, couldn’t shake the truth. She wasn’t entirely sure whether it was fear or curiosity. A part of her recognized Lanfear’s power and wondered what it would feel like to surrender to it, to release the control she gripped so tightly in her life.

At last, the Forsaken turned her head slightly, just enough for Nesta to see the sly curve of her mouth. “And when that moment comes, I’ll be waiting.”

Then, without another word, she dissolved into shadow and wind, leaving only the scent of roses and smoke in her wake.

[baubeautyandthegeek]

The One - Lanfear/Liandrin Guirale

A/N: Quick fic for @smubbles-etc just to get the writing flowing. TW: Moiraine dies... sorry.

Moiraine had been worried about fighting Lanfear for years, but when she came to face her, what actually defeated her had been far more simple. Liandrin, the woman she had never really considered a friend or foe, someone she liked but considered troubled, had come for her instead. She’s dying in the sand, the echoes of Siuan’s screams in her own head, as she stares up at Liandrin, holding the same sword she had intended to use to kill Lanfear. She’s already defeated when she feels it. Siuan’s pain, echoed back to her. Now, it seems, the only thing between Lanfear and breaking the wheel once and for all is Liandrin. She wants to hope that Liandrin will return to the light but as she watches Lanfear move toward Liandrin, the sword loose at Liandrin’s side, she knows. She’s lost. Everyone has lost. Liandrin, arm around Lanfear, lips inches away from Lanfear’s own, looks happier than Moiraine has ever seen her. She’s dead by the time Liandrin is allowed the kiss, Lanfear smiling into the kiss. “That… was impressive, my Liandrin.” “Shouldn’t have attacked you, my Mistress…. My Lanfear.” Liandrin releases the sword only to tuck hair from Lanfear’s eyes, a new gleam to her own that makes Lanfear’s smirk turn up a little. “Did you…. Choose?” “I did. Only way I could think of to stop her…” Liandrin pauses then smirks just a little. “Also, I like power.” Lanfear smirks again, then kisses her lightly. “Let’s go home… bring the sword.” In the end, alone together, it’s hard for Lanfear to hold back from what she really wants, Liandrin smirking just a little as she allows Lanfear control of the moment, she’d saved her life, whatever happened next would be good for them both. Love, for Forsaken, or as they called themselves, Chosen, wasn’t easy, but as Liandrin settles with Lanfear over her, arching to her touches, she knows this love, their love, will break all the rules.

[lovers-paradise]

Gentle with my hands, my tongue, it understands your language – Lanfear/Dragon Reborn F!Reader/Liandrin Guirale

A/N: Final fic for this request:

Hi :) Can you write Lanfear x Lisndrin with these prompts which you posted?

"Someone should punish you for that."

"I believe I could make you do it."

"I don't think you've had enough already."

(If you don't write character x character), then can you do either Lanfear x reader or Liandrin x reader? Whoever you prefer... or just three of them together lol)

The scent of copper hangs in the air as you enter the room. Lanfear is pacing, Liandrin stood still, eyes locked on her cheek, split open yet again. A snarl escapes even as you move to stroke Liandrin’s cheek focusing the healing on her cheek and speaking softly as you look over at Lanfear. “Someone should punish you for that." Lanfear looks about to speak and you cut off her argument sharply. “I believe I could make you do it." “She…” “I want you both. She was coming to meet me because I asked her to.” Your voice fills the silent room even as you tuck hair from Liandrin’s newly healed cheek, pressing a soft kiss there and smiling at her shy smile, stroking her cheek gently before moving to pull Lanfear closer, noting her small tremble and smirking. “Fearful now, aren’t you?” She looks ready to say no, but then she pulls away and wraps her arms around herself in a surprising display of insecurity. “Last… last time I shared I was… set aside.” “Not this time.” Liandrin’s voice is soft as she moves closer and you watch quietly, noting the way Lanfear uncurls slightly at Liandrin’s voice, looking at her with clear nervousness, your voice gentle as you join them both. “I want you, my Chosen… but I know you have… feelings… for Liandrin, our fierce Lioness.” A pause then. “I was going to ask Liandrin to join us.” “I was going to agree.” Liandrin admits softly and you smile, nudging her towards Lanfear and watching the lingering kiss they share, moving to draw them both to the bed, Lanfear spread between you both even as you stroke an idle hand between Lanfear’s thigh, stroking Liandrin’s bare back as she leans to settle against Lanfear, your moving hand teasing them both even as you watch them together. This, here, is your dearest pleasure, watching the women you love tremble, moan and share their pleasures easily. Release comes easily for Lanfear and you smirk, watching Liandrin shudder undone as Lanfear whispers something to her, your laugh soft when Liandrin shifts to settle on her back. “I don't think you've had enough already." Liandrin looks ready to protest and Lanfear surprises you. “I think perhaps we should make our mark on our pretty one…” Liandrin shudders but nods and you smirk, leaning to kiss Lanfear before whispering your thought before moving to sink sharp teeth into Liandrin’s tender collarbone, using a little power to burn the mark into place before moving to settle between Liandrin’s thighs, watching Lanfear’s own mark trace into Liandrin’s hip, sharp nails burning the mark to her hip into place, Lanfear’s lips covering Liandrin’s chest in gentle firm kisses before, when you are both sure Liandrin is close, swapping positions, she finds her release against joined hands, the claim cursing you all even as you laugh, finally free of the wheel’s wills and free to enjoy your beloveds.

[amemoryofwot]

The raw sexual tension between Moiraine and any other woman on screen

[butterflydm]

old friends (2/2)

Moiraine starts to learn who Rand has become in her absence.

Spoilers are beginning to creep into book four territory, though just the beginning of it, at the moment.

previous: old friends (1/2) ~

show-watcher masterlist ~ book-reader masterlist

next: diverging roads (1/3)

~

He had grown into himself so much in the past few months. If she'd met this Rand, back in the Two Rivers, Moiraine would have known in an instant who the Dragon Reborn was.

Now… now, she had to somehow prove to him that her advice could still be useful. This man who was still so much a boy and yet who had chafed at her guiding hand even during their brief time together before.

He wasn't paying attention to her, his reunion with Perrin taking up his focus, so Moiraine let herself study the changes. Callandor on one hip, translucent, and that sword of his — the heron-marked blade he hadn't earned — on the other. Something older in the way he held himself, something distant. Someone had dressed him in better clothes, finer materials, though they were still woefully lacking in embellishments. He looked like he could be a distant cousin of a minor house, at best.

Surrounded by Aiel, so many of them with his height and his hair and similar features. They'd come over the Spine of the World in search of Rand, she'd gathered, and had happened to take the Stone on the very same night that Rand and his friends had moved to sneak in to try to fulfill one of the prophecies. Such were the ways of ta'veren, she was discovering. He moved the Pattern as he needed to, without even knowing it.

"I'm still me," she heard him say to Perrin. "I've not changed."

He might believe that, but she doubted Perrin would. Her eyes went to Mat Cauthon, who stood back a bit from the reunion, his eyes shadowed. Wearing Rand’s old coat, if her eyes didn’t deceive her. Liandrin had, begrudgingly, admitted to Moiraine that she'd sensed something dark from Mat, before the boys and Nynaeve had- Light, had Travelled, something not done unaided since the Time of Madness- but she could see it herself now, too. His gaze darted around, suspicious of everyone who wasn't Rand or Nynaeve. That hard look even fell on Perrin from time to time, though it would soften into guilt afterwards.

And when he looked at Rand... she thinks that she would have known something had changed there even without the whispers in the streets about the Lord Dragon's lover. That might cause trouble, in the future. The rumors about Rand had made it out of the city already, though not with his name attached, but nothing more than that. Not yet. Perhaps it was for the best that Egwene was safely tucked away in the White Tower, under Siuan’s watchful eye.

Moiraine touched Lan's arm, letting him know she was fine for him to go speak to Nynaeve, and then strode to the corner of the room where Min Farshaw appeared to believe she was successfully hiding. She’d cut her hair, since Moiraine had seen her last, but she looked well.

"Oh, it's you," Min said, pretending to a surprise that she clearly didn't feel. Sending word after Rand had already taken the city, after he'd given her permission, Moiraine wagered, was only slightly more useful than not sending a message at all. "You're a bit late."

"If you're advising him," Moiraine said, her voice smooth and even, "-you should tell him that he needs to look the part."

"I’m not here to give him clothing advice," Min said. "And that's not why you came to talk to me." Min had been... much more agreeable the last time Moiraine had spoken to her, when she’d been under the protection of the Aes Sedai.

"It isn't," Moiraine agreed. "I'm pleased you escaped Fal Dara before it fell."

"I warned them." Min gazed off into the room, shook her head slightly. "They tried to listen, I'll give them that much. But they believed they could change the viewing. Couldn't believe it was already too late."

"Is it too late for me to help Rand?" Moiraine asked her.

"You know it doesn't work like that," Min said. Then she paused, her eyes unfocusing as she stared at- not at Rand, but at Mat. "The best way you can help Rand is by helping him." 

Min met Moiraine's gaze, and Moiraine felt the weight of her vision behind her eyes.

“Can you be specific?” she asked. If she knew the details of what Min had seen...

“He’s a complicated one,” Min said. She shrugged a shoulder. “He has something wrapped around his throat. I think you can help with it. Not sure exactly what it is.”

Min paused, then added, "There's also-" She nodded over past Rand and the Aiel, past the Tairen High Lords and Ladies who still seemed stunned at Rand's existence, and towards a small clump of Shienaran warriors having an animated discussion amongst themselves — three of them, all people Moiraine knew from before Fal Dara had been lost — Lord Ingtar, Masema Dagar, and Uno Nomesta. "-some of the Shienarans were told to smuggle the Horn of Valere out of the city, to bring to the Dragon."

"The Horn is here?" That was… a considerable advantage. One she had not expected.

Min nodded. "Still in Lord Ingtar's keeping for now, at Rand's request. I think it makes him nervous. I haven’t seen anything about it yet, which is odd, considering how important it’s supposed to be."

Moiraine thanked Min, then took herself on a tour of the Stone, marking where the fighting had been, and eventually found herself in the Heart of the Stone, where Callandor had once been held. Saw the large cracked symbol on the floor, dragon fang kissing the white flame, made out of cuendillar, broken as heartstone should never be broken. She took a piece of it, tested it with her fingernail, shivering internally when it crumbled at her touch.

It was all only beginning.

Later, Rand granted her a private audience — and it had taken some doing to convince Nynaeve and Mat to allow such a thing — and he listened to her as she talked about the dreams that Siuan told her about, when she had reached Tar Valon all those months ago.

"If we'd gone to the Eye of the World together, do you think we could have saved Fal Dara?" Rand asked, quietly. Melancholy. He slumped back against the chair, his hand resting on Callandor’s hilt. Interesting that he chose to meet with her in a small room, likely one that originally belonged to a minor functionary. He might have been thrust into the place of a High Lord, but it clearly was an ill-fitting garment, as yet. That would need to change.

"I do not know," she said. Perhaps they could have, perhaps, but she didn't know for a fact, and he had too many burdens already. They couldn't afford to have him break before the Last Battle. "I do believe that whoever you faced here in the Stone was not the Dark One. I would like to help you, if you will allow it. My life has been dedicated to this task for the past twenty years, and I would hate to leave it undone."

She watched Rand's reaction carefully — he was surprised by her behavior, but that was all she could tell for now. She wasn't sure yet if this was the right approach, but she couldn't treat him as she had before, not when he had the power to throw her out of the city on a whim if he so desired. She had to learn who this new Rand was first, before she was anything but extremely careful with him.

"How would you help me?"

"I would start by- by helping you with your friend, Mat Cauthon," Moiraine said, picking her words with care. She certainly had Rand's full attention. "There's something wrong with him. That much is clear. As an Aes Sedai, I may have the knowledge necessary to heal him of whatever is troubling him."

Rand studied her for a moment that felt like it stretched out forever. Moiraine held his gaze, not wavering.

"He found something in Shadar Logoth," he said, at last. Ah! That explained far too much. And it meant she needed to act quickly. They could not afford for the Dragon's most intimate advisor to whisper suspicion and poison into his ear. "I've been able to… shield him, almost, but it still leaks through. Affects him in some way that I can't- I can't stop. And Nynaeve has tried but she can't- it's not something she can heal on her own."

"You've been channeling, to protect him?" Moiraine asked, her words sharper than she'd have liked. "How often?"

"Every day that I could," Rand said, as if he had no notion of exactly how terrifying that was. How much of the corruption had already seeped into his mind? And even Aes Sedai were warned to be careful of how often they embraced the Source, as the rush of power alone could be addicting, even with saidar untainted. "I have to- rewrap the bindings." She could see him struggling to find the right words. "They… unravel somehow over time. There should be a way to stop that from happening. I'm sure of it. But I can't quite figure it out."

"Would you allow me to try to help him?" she asked.

"Better you than a Red sister," he said, which wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but Moiraine would take what she could get. "Meet with Nynaeve. She can tell you what she's already tried. I will… speak with Mat."

Moiraine knew a dismissal when she heard one, so she inclined her head gracefully, and took her leave. 

She had almost reached the doorway when Rand added, "Wait." She half-turned to face him. He smiled hesitantly at her, and she saw enough of the boy she'd first met in the Two Rivers to make her feel a little more sure of her footing. 

"There's a storage room," he told her. "Filled with artifacts made by the One Power, all that Tear has found or stolen over the centuries. I'm not- I'm not prepared to have them taken away, but if you have a chance to look, if you happen to know what any of them are, I would be grateful."

"I will do my best," she said, not mentioning how many similar artifacts of unknown use were currently rotting away in the White Tower. She waited another moment, to see if he had anything more.

"Thank you," he said, softly. "For that and for- for Mat."

She nodded and turned away. This time, he did not stop her from leaving.

~

[addendum]

Because my purpose in this fic series is to 'sneak Mat into the polycule', and not 'rewrite the entire book series', here is a summary of pertinent events that happened and that you should probably know about for future fics but that I didn't write out:

Moiraine never ends up swearing to be exiled on the oath rod, like she did in episode six, because she had no idea where our three kiddos yeeted themselves off to, so she stayed in the Tower like Maigan wanted and dug into her spy network, sending messages all over the place, including the one to Min at Fal Dara. She also talked to Loial, so got a better sense of where Rand and Mat's headspaces were at. When she did leave the Tower again, months had passed and everyone figured she'd paid her penance.

Yep, Egwene is currently a novice in the White Tower. Moiraine figured it would be safer for her to get in under the wire before anyone found out that one of her childhood friends was the Dragon Reborn. The first draft of this section had Egwene in Tear, too, but I could not make it make any logical sense given the time frames involved, etc. So! She stayed in the Tower for now.

On the plus side, Moiraine and Siuan got to spend a lot more time together than they did in the show!

Perrin has been working on his wolf-related stuff, etc. His sense of smell is a lot better than it used to be, for starters.

Moiraine has been waiting for Liandrin to get gossipy about what happened with Mat, Rand, and Nynaeve, and is kinda nervous that she hasn't, and though she'd like to think her threat to reveal Liandrin's own secret is why, she suspects there are other motives at work.

[lovers-paradise]

Every night makes me hate the days//Can't get enough of your love -  Dom!Liandrin/Sub!F!Reader

A/N: Written for the prompt: Hiya! I saw your smut prompts and can you please do Dom!Liandrin x fem reader with these: 26. “I want you to ruin me.” , 2. “Open your mouth for me.” , 6. “You look so good beneath me.”  , 18. “Swallow.” , 23. “Say my name.”

“I want you to ruin me.” The words are whispered as you walk away from the group, Liandrin has always kept you closest, her right hand, her loyal servant in all things Red Ajah, but people had no idea just how close you really are. Later, shut away safely with the silencing walls and door, thick and impenetrable by any sound, safely in place, she moves to tuck hair from your eyes, studying you for any sign of insecurity or nerves. Nothing shows. You sink willingly into place given the sign, neither of you bother much with clothes when you are alone, Liandrin knows by now you want her, all of her, even the ‘unpretty’ parts. “You look so good beneath me.”  Praise, easily earnt and freely given but you smile all the same, keeping eye contact even as she smiles down at you. She knows you will always do what you can to behave for her. It’s easy to follow her to the bed at the next signal, you settle and she smiles down at you again, sitting over you with quiet ease. You wonder, briefly, what she wants this time, then she’s settled against your lips. “Open your mouth for me…” You do, of course, settling to work when the next signal comes, silent and almost a plea. You are happiest here, between her thighs, watching her tremble for you. She had doubted, at first, that anyone could ever want to submit for her, but you had, from the beginning. Now, as she shudders so beautifully for you, you smile into her skin, working deeper and harder when she’s ready, reading her easily. Her release, which used to come slower, comes on her quickly and her voice is softly husky when she next speaks. “Swallow.” You do, eagerly, watching her move off you and lower, your eyes slipping closed at her touch teasing you open to her, your breath catching in your throat. It won’t take long, it never does, but she teases you by pulling away just before you can reach a peak, the command simple. “Say my name.” She’s back on you before you can question it and you whine as you shudder undone, her name comes from you as a gasp. “Liandrin…” She’s quieter when she tucks against you, your arms looping around her as you tuck both of you under blankets, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I love you Liandrin… so much.”

[lovers-paradise]

Let the world around us//Just fall apart//Baby, we can make it//If we're heart to heart - Liandrin Guirale/Reader

A/N: Written for an Anon Request.

Denial has always come easily. Red ajah are prone to it after all. Liandrin Guirale had caught your eye the first day you both came to this place, trained to be who you now are. Aes Sedai. You still push away the feelings deep down. She’s too cold to know better and you will never tell her, you’ve been rivals for everything. Battle changes things. Forsaken, not Liandrin’s, you think almost idily. Lanfear is not here. Oh, she’d thought she was so smart, so slick, you had known anyway, but the battle still comes and Liandrin still falls. She’d hidden it at first, battling back to her feet before her body collapsed under the pressure. Her shield, already thin, is close to cracking and without thinking you throw all you have behind the shield you build from the Power, pressing it to protect you both even as your hand covers her bleeding wounds, ignoring her protests. She heals slowly, so slowly that you are nearly hit when your shield breaks, rescued only when Liandrin whispers Lanfear’s name into the air between you, hiding her face in your hair all the same. You are left alone hours later. Liandrin had cursed quietly when you pulled her to her feet and you can see the healing job is barely holding, inches from tearing. You mirror her now, red clothing slashed and torn, ragged marks over your collarbone. She allows you to heal, first her, then yourself, her eyes focused on you in a way that should make you nervous. It doesn’t. She seems curious, even as you shift to find clothing, wrapping yourself in fresh red shirt and then move to find her something, helping her change quietly. “You would you…” “Liandrin…” “You could have…” “Lia. Please.” You move on instinct this time, run a hand into her damned blonde braids, tug firmly and kiss her when she turns her chin up at the perfect angle to let you meet her mouth with your own, your free hand cupping her cheek, brushing blood and a few strays tears away. “I love you… you stubborn fool.” You mutter the words against her lips, barely hiding your smile when she shifts away, looks up at you again and then sighs, rising to meet you when you turn away, suddenly unsure. “I love you too.” Four little words. Innocent but spoken with such feeling that you can feel a sob threaten to escape. You turn in just enough time to see her knot her fingers together, squeezing tightly. She’s nervous, even after you admit to loving her and you move closer in three short strides, tuck her into your arms and let your lips find her ear. “Come to bed?” She nods, short, shy and you smile, leading her to the bed and settling, coaxing her down beside you to wrap her closer again, holding her steady even as she knots her fingers into your shirt. “Rest, Liandrin, I won’t push you.” You mean it. Here, held, is enough. You will never once push her beyond what she feels able to give, building her back up with your gentle care and fierce loyalty. She had strayed to the Black, you think, but so had you, for her sake.