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skyholly · 5 months ago

Text

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

Chapter 1 here!

Chapter 2 here!

Chapter 3 here!

Chapter 4 here!

Chapter 5 here!

Chapter 6 here!

Chapter 7 here!

Chapter 8 here!

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

Chapter 9. Rand

She’s a mirage , Rand thought in disbelief, his eyes softening with affection nonetheless, then I must be dying already . But what a precious sight she was; death really could not greet him with kinder hands than to have her be his last vision. Despite his vision being blurred, he could still make out her figure, dressed in a lavender-coloured gown, pale and soft against the glow of her skin; he could make out the warmth of her hair, the ever-present brightness and kindness in her eyes. She was so lovely, as lovely a sight as there could be. Ilyena, Gwen, he loved them both the same.

“Gwen,” Rand breathed her name, his lips curling into a peaceful smile, his voice laced with a tender sweetness. The pain pouring from the venomous dagger embedded in his side spread through his entire body, feeling as if it were scorching his muscles, bones and skin away. His vision was foggy, but he could still discern Guinevere rushing towards him, painfully kneeling above the debris by his side, her arms instinctively reaching for his blood-tainted stomach. The warmness of her skin against his overcame any pain he might have been feeling, and suddenly his mind became clear once again. She’s real… she’s real and she’s here, he realised, his heart sinking into his stomach. That cannot be. She shouldn’t be here. Ishamael is here, she will get hurt — “W-what are you doing here?” Rand heard himself stutter, voice shaken with apprehension, “How did you get here? I thought Lanfear…”

The girl promptly shushed him, as she delicately traced his injury with her fingers, as she closed her eyes, imperceptibly reaching for the Source. Rand stared in awe at his torn skin starting to heal itself back together, stopping the bleeding and the poison from spreading any further. In only mere seconds there was nothing left but a darkened, muddy mark over his skin where the knife had been once buried. He lifted his gaze to Guinevere, his eyes filled with devotion, before Egwene’s screams of pain brought him crashing back to the harsh reality of their situation. All of his dearest friends were there, endangered because of Ishamael, because of him, it was his fault they had been caught up in such a mess. You will carry the weight of their deaths.

“Rand, Rand!” Mat urged him, softly shaking his shoulders. It took Rand a moment to realise he was lying on his friend’s arms. “You’re gonna have to do something.”

The readheaded boy lethargically raised his hand, trying to reach for the Source, but found nothing but a void in its place. He felt harrowingly empty.

“I- I can’t,” he blubbered, drowsily starting to remember the events that had taken place prior to Mat throwing that dagger at his stomach, “I’m shielded.”

Rand heard someone nervously sigh by his side, and saw Guinevere close her eyes in desperation, clutching the blue stone hanging over her chest as if in prayer. And then suddenly, he sensed the weaves that restricted him starting to grow weaker, and the shield over him fell apart, he could feel the Source once again, almost begging for his touch. Or is it the other way around? He heard Guinevere exhale a shaky ‘thank you’, before letting a lonely tear fall through her cheek.

He stumbled out of Mat’s hold, screeching resounding in his ears, as Perrin and Gwen helped him up, and he walked towards Egwene, whose breath and stability were growing weaker by the second due to her efforts to protect them from Ishamael’s attacks. Gwen attempted to follow him, but he gently pushed her into Perrin’s arms, away from any possible danger. He could practically feel the girl’s fury showing on her face, but didn’t look back.

Rand reached Egwene’s side, as her shield that had protected them faltered away, and picked his sword from the ground right next to her, the heron mark on its hilt dangerously shimmering under the sun. He walked with steady, fast steps towards Ishamael, reaching for the Source, letting it engulf him whole; and a grunt left his lips as he embedded the sword right into the man’s chest. Rand knew he was doing the correct thing, for he was both protecting his friends and the world by killing him, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something he couldn’t describe in any other way but grief, as he kept pushing the tip further into the Ishamael’s heart. The blade’s iron melted itself into the One Power, digging a fiery hole into the Forsaken’s chest, and then with a thud the sword’s hilt crashed futile into the ground. Rand felt a scorching sensation sear through his hand, and his eyes widened in astonishment as he looked down to find a heron shaped mark burned into his skin. He tried to make sense of it for a moment, but got distracted. With a painful groan, Ishamael quietly dropped to his knees, his whole body following afterwards, raising a cloud of dust around him.

The redheaded boy stood over him, still in shock, amidst a silence so profound he was certain he could hear a pin drop.

“Its…” Ishamael mumbled, struggling to breath, “it’s beautiful. Do you see it, Lews?”

Rand shivered at the mention of the name. It felt both distant and unnervingly close, like a step into an abyss from which he could never return. “What do you see?” He asked, eyebrows frowning in confusion.

“Nothing.” The man whispered, as the hole in his chest turned into ashes, corruption that started to spread throughout his entire body. “Nothing at all,” Ishamael finally said, before his whole being turned into dust, drawn into the turbulent air hitting above the tower. Rand sensed his eyes filled with tears, knowing he’d done the right thing, yet somehow feeling as if he had just lost a dear friend to him.

He became startled by the sound of bells echoing all over the city, and he raised his head to golden weaves of Power that burned like the fire start encircling the tower, rising to its top, where all of the group stood still almost paralysed in distress. Rand followed the bursts of fire and light, seeking for their source as he made his way towards the edge of the Tower, with Guinevere closely behind. There, they witnessed the bursts of fire coalescing into the unmistakable form of a dragon. Gwen let out a frail gasp, one of her hands covering over her open mouth and the other instinctively reaching for his, clutching it in dread. The flaming dragon rose over them, heated screeches coming out of his fiery mouth, and Rand firmly pulled Guinevere further into his side, encircling her waist with his hand.

She drew her gaze up towards him in a wavering motion, desperately meeting his eyes, “ ‘ Above the Watchers shall the Dragon be proclaimed… ” Guinevere recited, “ bannered ‘cross the sky in fire .’ This is Moiraine’s doing,” she breathed, eyes glistening with sorrowful tears, as she gently put her hands over her cheeks, tiptoeing so their foreheads could touch, “the world will now think of you as Dragon Reborn, Rand, and she thinks you stand ready for it.”

The boy stared back at her for a couple of seconds, tightening the grip on her waist, as he looked down, towards the cheering crowds; men and women embracing each other, embracing their children, embracing their friends, smiles drawn across their bloody faces. He drew in a trembling breath. He wasn’t sure he was ready for such a weight to be placed upon his shoulders.

As if she had read his thoughts, Guinevere gently forced his eyes towards hers back again, as she tenderly caressed his cheeks. “You’re not alone in this,” she affirmed, nodding, biting her lips.

Rand lowered his gaze, his eyes studying their surroundings, and found the rest of his friends joining them at the edge of the tower, all of them staring in awe at the acclaiming crowds below them, as the dragon’s roars resounded over them, and realised Gwen was right, he wasn’t alone anymore. And that remained his biggest problem.

He needed to prove himself, to prove himself worthy of carrying such a mighty banner, and he couldn’t bring himself to endanger his friends, endanger Guinevere because of it. He realised then he had no choice but to leave his friends, once again.

But he could afford a moment’s waiting. For now, he could appreciate the friends that surrounded him, the trust, love and support he felt from them, for he knew how fleeting such sentiments would be. He rubbed Guinevere’s back, feeling the warmth emanating from the dragon’s breath over her ragged clothes. He felt her skin through the tears of her gown, and couldn’t help but think about the torture Lanfear had put her through, and the lengths she must have gone through in order to reach him, to save him. Rand left a shy, sudden kiss on Guinevere’s forehead. And for an instant, everything felt alright.

*****

Author's note: So this is it, the "final" chapter. I write "final" because there WILL be an epilogue (an 10th chapter) but I will only start writing it once I finish proofreading and HEAVILY editing these past 9 chapters, which could take as much as a month even.

I really hope you've enjoyed the story this far; in the meantime (and risking being greedy), I'd really appreciate it if you could share this story with people you think will enjoy it. As most of you know, I haven't read the books, so I'd love some new insight on how the caracters behave, on the world building, and maybe possibly a beta reader to help me bring all of this together more neatly.

The epilogue will be very out of both show and book canon, and YES, there will be a Moiraine and Guinevere reunion, and a little bit of a Siuan's POV.

To answer another requested question, I WILL continue this story after Season 3 airs, most possibly with a different title, but under the same series.

Once again, I cannot possibly express how much your comments mean to me and how encouraging they are, I really hope you haven't been dissapointed with the turns the story has taken and that you've found it engaging, enough to make you wait for the epilogue ahah.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and leave kudos and comments, we'll see each other soon I hope!

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skyholly · 6 months ago

Text

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

Chapter 1 here!

Chapter 2 here!

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

Chapter 3. Guinevere

Guinevere let the box slip from her hands with an indifferent motion, the sound of its contents clattering echoed through the room as it hit the floor. She wistfully glanced around the sombre chambers that belonged to her aunt, struggling to get a hold of her thoughts. She’s here. What is she doing in Cairhien after all these years? She’s mean and rude to my mother. She can’t bear to look at my face and ignores me. She’s left again. Why is she so cold and unapproachable? She’s leaving again and she’s carrying a sword. She can’t channel.

She can’t touch the Source.

It made so much sense. Why she couldn’t feel her, why she couldn’t reach to her with the One Power.

She’s been stilled.

Guinevere dropped into the mattress, closing her eyes in the process. What in the Creator’s name is going on here? The young girl pressed her hands over her forehead, frustrated, trying to put the pieces together, organising her thoughts, folding files of information in drawers within her mind.

Moiraine has been looking for the Dragon Reborn all these years.

Moiraine entered the White Tower with five potential dragons.

Moiraine was exiled from the Tower.

Moiraine left for the Eye of the World, and everyone came back except for one, a male channeler. The Dragon Reborn, presumed dead, at least by Egwene.

Moiraine went missing for months.

Moiraine has been stilled.

Now Moiraine is in Cairhien, searching for something, or someone, she believes to be in danger.

What will the Tower do about it?

Guinevere shot back up at such thought, her heart pounding in her chest, and started to anxiously pace around the room, clicking her fingers in the process. The Amyrlin. She’d completely forgotten about the woman’s request. “If you hear from Moiraine, let me know”. Guinevere was intruded by a thought upon remembering her words: the older women ought to have known something.

Could the Amyrlin suspect of Moiraine’s doings? No, that’s unlikely, her fate would have been worse than exile. Unless… they were in it together. Were Siuan aware of Moiraine’s endeavours, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d heard such rumours of the two women; everyone at the Tower knew they used to be friends as Novices. But why, why was Moiraine hiding from the Amyrlin then? What was she hiding? Maybe she’s gone rogue.

And what was she doing in Cairhien? Why did she leave in the middle of the night with a sword on her back? It was too big a puzzle and Guinevere had nothing but vague pieces, she needed more information, but there was no one she could go to willing to provide her some answers.

That night, she had an intriguing dream that bore an uncanny resemblance to a memory, stirring an unsettling sense of familiarity within her.

She couldn’t have been more than five years old, and she was crying, scared and confused about all the screaming around her, people pulling on her little body, demanding to take her away. Her father was there, staring with pleading eyes at the woman holding her, Anvaere by his side, extending her arms towards her, and Guinevere wanted to get to her more than anything in the world. To reach her mama. And then, suddenly, her screaming turned into soft whimpers, as she was being carried around her home in her mother’s arms. Only it wasn’t her mother, it was her Aunt Moiraine. “Shh, it’s alright, my dear Winnie. Everything’s alright,” she soothed her, stroking her hair and whispering comforting words as she walked into what must have been her nursery as a toddler. “Shh,” the woman kept on whispering, lovingly caressing her back, “it’s alright, I’m here, your mother is here.”

Guinevere leaped up from her bed, gasping for air, her mind trying to make meaning of the dream, but she couldn’t possibly come up with an answer. Her chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, the dream lingering in her mind like a stubborn mist. It had felt so… unnatural. As if her mind had been constantly fighting an intruder who unrelentingly kept on pushing the images onto her brain. Almost as if… no, that was impossible. The Forsaken are gone. No one alive has been successful at Tel’aran’rhiod… that you know of.

Guinevere slumped into bed once again, pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes, hard enough that it began to hurt. I’m losing my mind. For how long she remained in such a position, she didn’t know, but at some point a knock on her door drove her out of her slumber. She removed her hands from her face, and slowly opened her eyes. At first, she couldn’t see anything but dots and spots of brightness, her eyes adjusting to the light.

“Winnie?” Her mother peeked through the door. “Oh good, you’re awake,” she said, entering the room, “you should get ready. The royal wedding tasting is in an hour, and Barthanes wants you to come.”

“Alright,” Guinevere responded, stretching, “I’ll start getting ready then.”

“Perfect, darling.” Anvaere said, turning around.

“Wait!” The young girl stopped her mother before she could leave the room. “Did… did Aunt Moiraine come home last night?”

Anvaere and hesitated for a second, holding onto the door frame. “She has not come back, dearest,” she said, sending a pitiful look towards her, “but you shouldn’t worry, your aunt is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

Is she?

“Mmh,” Guinevere hummed, as she nibbled on a piece of pastry, “I think I liked the raspberries one better.”

“So do I.” Barthanes agreed, as he winked an eye to her.

Their mother sighed, delicately putting a napkin over Guinevere’s skirt. “Lemon will suit everyone’s palette better,” she explained, “and besides, raspberries are too messy. Look at your mouth, Gwen. You wouldn’t want your guests to look like that, Barthanes.”

“What’s wrong with my mouth?” The girl asked, quickly reaching for a napkin to clean the edges of her mouth.

“They won’t,” the man laughed, “because they actually know how to eat. Unlike my dear little sister who has the daintiness of a lumber man.”

“Barthaness!” Anvaere scolded him, but she was too late, as he was already throwing a piece of cake towards the young girl, messing up her dress.

“You wool-headed fool!” Guinevere grinned, as she grabbed on a piece of pudding to toss towards her brother, but her mother was faster. She seized her wrist and forced it back to the table. “That’ll be enough foolishness for today.” She declared, sternly, before turning towards the cook, who bore an uncomfortable smile on his face. “I believe you were about to present these delicious looking canapes, were you not?”

The man was preparing yet another platter for them to taste, when the doors to the kitchen opened abruptly, Moiraine rushing through the steps towards them, a tall man following her. A man she knew. Rand. It took Guinevere a few seconds to recognise him, her house being the last place she’d ever expected to run into him, and with Moiraine. She felt the air get caught up in her throat, and then left out a shaky exhale, the boy always had that effect on her for some reason. As if she were holding her breath every time he wasn’t around.

She saw the redheaded studying the room, before his eyes set on her, opening them in surprise. I guess this is the last place he expected to see me as well. He raised his eyebrows, directing a suspicious look her way, one she eagerly returned. You are the one barging into my home, and with my aunt out of all people.

“Oh good, you’re back.” Anvaere commented, rather uninterested, shoving Guinevere out of her stupor. “And you’ve brought back a friend.”

“Aunt Moiraine!” Barthanes chuckled, as he earnestly stood up, clearly over the moon about seeing the woman after so long. “I-I could hardly believe it when my sister said you were here. It’s… it’s been fifteen years.”

Guinevere looked at her aunt, and realised she’d been staring at her. The older woman hurriedly drew her gaze away, focusing on her nephew, and awkwardly smiled. “I think you were as high as this table last time I saw you.” She replied.

Barthanes tried reaching for her hands, but their aunt uncomfortably placed them over her stomach, avoiding his touch. “You… you… well, you look almost exactly the same.” The young man added, smiling, trying to soften the unpleasant mood that her aunt’s restraint had caused.

“If somewhat bedraggled.” Anvare intervened, with a grin. Her mother’s words brought Guinevere to her feet, as she finally settled her eyes on the pair’s clothing. They were both covered in dirt, and blood. What does Moiraine have to do with Rand? “I’m imagining you didn’t come back for the royal wedding tasting?”

“Come on, Mother.” Barthanes laughed. “She’s got better things to do than pretend she can taste the difference between raspberries and thimbleberries. You must be my aunt’s Warder.” He added, pointing at Rand.

The boy shifted uncomfortably in his place, looking at Moiraine for help. “I’m not a Warder.”

“This is… Rand.” Moiraine hesitated for a second.

“A pleasure, Rand. I’m, uh, Barthanes Damodred,” her brother introduced himself, “and these are my—

“We’ve met.” Anvaere and Guinevere said, in unison. Her aunt lifted her eyebrows at that, staggered, but swiftly regained her expression under control, a blank mien taking over her face.

“We need horses, two. Coursers if you have them.”

“I’ll have them brought to the house. We have a whole stable of the very best. A gift from the Queen.” Anvaere flaunted.

“And you must come to the wedding.” Barthanes rushed to say, fearing their aunt was leaving again. “It’s just a few weeks away. Can you believe that I will be marrying Queen Galdrian?” He commented, in disbelief. And then added, in a silly tone: “now that makes me your King. So I shall expect full subservience.”

Moiraine chuckled. “It’s a happy match, I hope.” She said, with a genuine smile. Guinevere couldn’t help but to feel jealous. Why was she so kind to her brother?

“The name Damodred is held in high esteem. That is happiness enough.” Her mother said, in a serious tone.

“Well…”Moiraine looked around, “I shall go and wash upstairs. Perhaps a meal for Rand, in the meantime. And then some fresh clothes before we leave?”

“Yes, of course. We’ll find him something fitting from my wardrobe.” Barthanes assured.

“Thank you.” Moiraine said, as she started making her way towards the stairs.

“Is that… blood?” Her brother commented, pointing towards Moiraine’s clothes, but she interrupted him.

“It truly has been good to see you, nephew. Or… should I say, My Liege.” She smiled, awkwardly bowing to him, her smile an amusing grin. There it was again. That green monster creeping through her guts. Guinevere shoved it away.

The young girl waited until her aunt had left. “I believe I should help Rand find some new clothes,” she said, as she stood up, intensely staring at the red headed boy, “come with me.”

Rand hesitantly followed her into the hallways, after respectfully nodding his head towards the girl’s mother and brother. “Jhonas,” Guinevere said, upon running into the older man on their way, “could you ask one of the servants to bring some fresh clothes from my brother’s closet for our guest? We’ll be in the room in the east wing.”

“Of course, little lady.” The old man bowed, and left.

Guinevere and Rand remained quiet for the rest of the way, while sharing confused looks with each other. The girl opened the door to the guest room, hastily forced Rand in by pushing him on his back, and made sure there was no one in the hallway before delicately shutting it close.

“You know my Aunt Moiraine?!”, “You are Moiraine’s niece?!” They both said, at the same time. “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“How was I supposed to know you knew my aunt?” Guinevere frowned.

“Well how was I supposed to know I knew you were her niece?” Rand replied, mirroring her expression.

“I look remarkably similar to her, for starters? My last name being Damodred, just like her?” She put on a sceptical look, while crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s your excuse?” She asked, fixing her eyes on his.

Rand huffed, annoyed. “That I arrived with her to Tár Valon? Where we first saw each other? Surely that’s the only thing Aes Sedai at the Tower were talking about, why else would they have exiled her?” He clasped his hands against his hips, an incredulous look on his face.

“Well I didn’t know you’d arrived with my aunt—

Guinevere went suddenly quiet, voice gone dry. Her muscles went stiff, as realisation fell upon her like a stone dropped into still water. How have I been so oblivious? Rand. He was the missing piece of the puzzle. The files on her mind started organising itselves.

Moiraine arrived at Tár Valon with him, one of the five potential dragons.

Moiraine travelled with him and the others to the Eye of the World, where one of the boys had died (or at least Egwene seemed to believe as much ). And then, Rand didn’t return to the Two Rivers, instead, he escaped to Cairhien, telling no one (she presumed, due to his elusiveness) about it.

Moiraine didn’t inform anyone at the White Tower about her mission, about her success at it (or failure? If everything turned out the way she expected, why didn’t she inform the Amyrlin?)

Moiraine returned home to look for Rand, who Guinevere guessed was the one Egwene presumed dead; had it been Perrin, the Novice surely would’ve told her as much.

Rand is the boy who went to the Eye of the World and didn’t make it.

Rand is the Dragon Reborn.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” The redheaded boy said, taking her out of her stupor.

“Huh?” She asked, raising her head, meeting his eyes. Those blue, kind, familiar eyes that had wrinkled at her jokes so many times, eyes that always softened whenever they set on her. How is it even possible? How didn’t I realise?

“The door.” The boy urged her, as he brushed past her, and opened it to let a servant in.

“My Lord, my Lady,” the young man bowed, “here are the clothes you requested. Shall I leave them in the bed for you?”

“Y-yes,” Guinevere stuttered, still in shock, “thank you.”

She waited until the boy left, and turned around to look at Rand. To actually look at him. She couldn’t help but to see him through different lenses. The Dragon Reborn. Her kind, funny, sweet friend… potentially the most dangerous man in the world. He who would be their salvation, or he who could be their damnation.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyebrows folding in confusion.

“N-nothing,” she rushed to say, unsure of how to act under such revelations, “you should probably go clean yourself up,” she added, pointing towards a door on the back of the room, “there’s a tub and some fresh cloths and a bowl with warm water, I’ll wait for you here.”

“Alright,” he replied, grabbing her brother’s clothes, and walked towards the room, sending one last inquisitive look her way.

Guinevere dropped into the mattress of the bed as soon as the door closed behind him. She didn’t know what to do. Should she confront him? Was she putting her family at risk by doing so? No, Rand wouldn’t hurt anyone. But wouldn’t he? Dragon or not, he was a man that could channel, and that was dangerous enough. The madness… but he seems so normal. Should she notify the Amyrlin about it? The ring on her finger, fitting impossibly tight at the moment, made her feel compelled to do so. But the Reds would gentle him. Did she ought to inform the Tower about him anyway? Wasn’t it her obligation? I’ve made a vow. Guinevere knew that was the sensible thing to do, the correct thing to do, but she couldn’t help but wonder. Something was shifting, she had been able to sense the Wheel pulling on its strings for some time, my dreams… and then she realised it was because of him. The Dragon had been born once again, the Pattern weaved around him. The Last Battle was coming, and Guinevere sensed there were more players at the game that she could even think of. And there was only one person that could give her the answers: Moiraine.

Guinevere realised she didn’t have one reason to trust the Aes Sedai, but she felt unable not to do so. She was finally able to think about her aunt from another perspective. She’s sacrificed so much. She’s travelled for most of her life, turned away friends and family, walked into the Eye of the World ready to die in the hopes she was securing everyone’s future but hers, she was stilled… all because of the boy with a shy smile that was but feet away from her. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, the same words she uttered everytime Guinevere had come to her for advice: “There are two things my sister understands better than anyone. The difference between right and wrong, and how much harder it is sometimes to do what is right.”

Guinevere didn’t know much, but she was certain of one thing: whatever it was Moiraine was doing, it was the right thing to do. She felt embarrassment taint her cheeks, she was an Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah, she was a servant to everyone, it was about time she put her childish resentment behind, and found a way to help Moiraine. She needed to talk to her.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, and Rand emerged, looking slightly more refreshed but still carrying an air of tension. His eyes, piercing and yet familiar, locked onto Guinevere. “You look troubled,” he remarked, breaking the silence.

Guinevere faked a smile, masking the whirlwind of thoughts inside her. "Just... a lot on my mind," she replied, trying to steady her voice. "It’s not every day my aunt returns after fifteen years with such a mysterious guest in tow." She added, forcing a grin on her mien.

Rand chuckled, as if he understood more than he let on. "I suppose not," he said, his voice careful. "I’m sorry if my presence has caused any trouble. I didn’t mean to disrupt anything."

She shook her head quickly. "No, it’s not that. It’s just... you know how families can be." She laughed nervously, as she stood up. “You should go to the kitchens, a meal will be served for you. Unless of course you’d rather get some sleep before leaving.”

“I-I can’t sleep.”

“If you have trouble sleeping I can help with that.”

“Gwen… I can’t explain much, only that it’d be dangerous for me to fall asleep right now.” Yet something else I can’t figure out.

“I see.”

“Thank you, anyway, I appreciate your offer.”

Guinevere pursed her lips, as a thought came to her. “Would you like me to take your tiredness away? It’d take a second.”

Rand observed her, and opened his mouth in approval, silently scolding himself for not thinking about it before. “I would like that, thank you.”

Guinevere focused her mind, her hands hovering just inches from Rand's temples. She closed her eyes and felt the familiar warmth of the One Power flowing through her, a comforting rush of energy that steadied her nerves. She directed the Power towards Rand, gently easing his fatigue, and there it was. She sensed it, his power. It was so different from Saidar. It felt so unlike healing Egwene, whose power felt warm, and so easily embraced hers. Rand’s, on the other hand, felt rigid, reluctant to her own, but somehow so familiar. She pushed a bit more, and she felt as if she were colliding against a brick wall. She’d never felt such immense power. Guinevere slowly opened her eyes, and exhaled, trying to mask her apprehension. He really is the Dragon Reborn.

She found Rand staring at her, exhaustion slowly draining from his eyes, filling hers instead, but she didn’t mind. She was used to it. Healing caused exhaustion to all sisters, but it tired her the most out of all, for some reason. Her sisters said it was because she was too young, that she wasn’t as powerful. Guinevere believed that was probably true.

“Better?” She asked, clearing her throat.

Rand’s expression softened, his eyes brightening. "Thank you, Gwen. I do feel better.” He paused, his gaze searching her face, as his hands reached for hers. “You didn't have to do that.”

Guinevere squeezed palms, already used to that electric buzz she felt every time she touched him. How didn’t I realise?

“It's the least I can do,” she replied, her voice tinged with sincerity. “You should probably go join my brother now, and have something to eat.”

“Okay.” Rand carefully caressed the back of her hand, and turned towards the door.

Guinevere waited until Rand had left, and then rushed towards her aunt’s bedroom, just as her mother was leaving the place. She spotted the young girl, and her preoccupied frown turned into a soft smile. She slightly grabbed on her daughter’s shoulder, and left a kiss on her cheek. “Do help her, please.” Anvaere whispered in her ear, before turning away.

The young girl’s forehead creased in confusion, but her mother’s request became evident the second she entered the room. Moiraine had dark circles under her eyes, her skin looked pale and dull, her body almost limping under fatigue, all of it concealed under an almost perfect vigorous facade.

“Do help her, please.” Her mother had begged, but Guinevere couldn’t stand sensing the older woman with the One Power. She’d tried doing so the night before, and it had left her feeling nauseated. Being from the Yellow Ajah, she’d seen terrible things, but nothing like that. Reaching for her had felt as if she were grasping a maimed, bloody limb with its skin ripped, soulless and cold to the touch. Guinevere’s heart clenched when thinking about how the older woman must’ve been feeling, the thoughts that must’ve been racing through her head at all times. How hasn’t she killed herself yet?

Guinevere swiftly intercepted Moiraine’s path, as she was making her way out of the room. The older woman glared at her, eyes meeting hers. They always evaded her, as if she were afraid her eyes would talk for her.

“Guinevere, I don’t have time for whatever this is,” she sighed, “I’ve got to—

“I know, Aunt Moiraine.” She somehow managed to say, her voice almost breaking. Why? Why do you resent me so much? Why do you treat Barthanes so kindly? How is he any different? But she couldn’t dwell on such thoughts. She stood firm on his choice of helping her, and once Guinevere had set her mind on something, it became impossible for her to drift off course. “I know everything. About your mission, about Rand…”

Moiraine stopped abruptly in her tracks, and turned around in an almost lethargic manner. For the first time, she saw cracks in her aunt’s stoic masquerade, fear and uncertainty slipping through them. “H-How… could you…”

“Egwene. She’s a novice in the White Tower now, and we crossed paths.”

“Mmh, no,” Moiraine shook her head, placing a hand over her forehead, “Egwene wouldn’t have told you,” she said, finally looking in her direction, studying her, “she wouldn’t have told anyone. She knows, better than anyone, what’s at risk.”

Guinevere remained quiet, perplexed at her aunt’s agitation, an almost imperceptible smug smile claiming her lips, as she couldn’t help but feel arrogance flow through her veins. Finally, she had the upper hand. “Let’s just say I’m used to getting people to do as I please.”

Moiraine fixed her gaze on her, her eyes squinting in scepticism. She held her breath for a second, and then slowly, but firmly let it out. She was looking at Guinevere as if it were the first time she’d ever seen her. “You have the Talent for Compulsion.” The girl didn’t respond, which was an answer itself.

“There’s something else you should know, Aunt Moiraine,” Guinevere added, walking a few steps towards her, “before leaving for Cairhien, the Amyrlin asked to see me,” Moiraine eyes brightened at the mention of the Aes Sedai, but the young girl didn’t comment on it. So they are working together. Or were, at least.

“And?” Moiraine asked, tilting her head.

“She asked me to inform her, should I get news from you.”

“Did you make an oath? Did she make you swear it?” Moiraine inquired her, expectantly.

Guinevere waited a handful of seconds before replying, amused by seeing apprehension creep under her aunt’s indifferent disguise. Arrogance is a dangerous thing. “No.”

Moiraine nodded. “She trusts you, then.”

“She does,” Guinevere agreed, “but she shouldn’t. I’m here to help you, aunt Moiraine. I don’t understand what’s going on, not fully, but I trust you’re doing what’s right. Tell me what to do and I’ll do as much.”

“You’d betray The Amyrlin?” Moiraine asked, putting on a guarded stance. She doesn’t believe me.

“I would, Moiraine. I know Rand, and I’m on his side. I’m on your side.” Guinevere exhaled, as she mustered enough bravery to reach for the woman’s hands, squeezing them tightly.

The woman went stiff at her touch at first, but then eased into it, gripping on Guinevere’s hands even harder. She looked at her, tears she would not let fall accumulating in her eyes. She nodded. “Let’s go find Rand, then.”

Moiraine updated her as they walked towards the kitchen, briefing her about the events in the Eye of the World, Ishamael, and how now Lanfear was their biggest threat at the moment.

“Except she isn’t,” Guinevere puzzled out, as she came to a halt next to the kitchen’s door, “he’s told me about a woman that has been in his life lately, if she wanted him dead, she would’ve done so already.”

“Exactly.” Moiraine said, as she pushed on the door.

The pair of them stood on the upper floor, glancing down at the two men playing cards at the table.

“Time to go?” Rand asked, looking up towards the older woman, surprised to see Guinevere by her side.

“No, actually,” Moiraine replied, leaning against the rail, “we’re staying.”

Moiraine gestured to the boy to follow her, which the redheaded man did quickly, staring with incertitude at Guinevere, who steadily followed their steps. “By Moiraine, why is she—

“Shh,” the older woman scolded him, “wait until we’re alone.”

They continued their walk in silence towards the guest room that had been assigned to Rand, and as soon as they closed the door behind them Guinevere started moving her hands in intricate motions, pulling on weaves Rand could not see.

“That’ll do it.” She said, turning around with her hands on her hips. “No one from the outside will be able to hear us. Or shouldn’t, theoretically, I’m not that good at anything else but Healing, I’m afraid.”

“What is she doing here?” Rand asked, putting on a cautious stance, looking at her with evident worry in his eyes.

“She knows, Rand,” Moiraine said, and added before he could intervene, “you can trust her.”

“Yes, I know I can trust her,” he replied, lips laced with anger, “that’s why I don’t want her to have anything to do with this.”

“How—

“You’ll get hurt, eventually!” He yelled at her.

Guinevere took a deep breath, feeling sympathy for the boy, but also feeling quite frustrated. “I’m a fully capable and trained Aes Sedai, Rand.” She remarked, keeping her temper at bay. “I can take better care of myself than you, and I believe I get a saying on what I believe I ought to fight for. And that’s you.”

He stared at her, just as firm on his choice as she was on hers, but realised fighting wouldn’t lead to anything. Guinevere was just as, if not more, stubborn as Egwene.

“Alright…” he reluctantly conceded, “so what’s the plan now?” He asked, glancing around the room, following Moiraine’s gaze towards the bed. “You said I can’t sleep or she’ll find me.”

“Yes,” Moiraine agreed, “she will.”

“You want her too.” Rand affirmed, looking appalled.

“She’s been with you what, two, three months now? If she wanted to hurt you, she’s had ample opportunity. But she hasn’t. What does she want?”

“I don’t know.” Rand sighed. “If you’d asked me a few days ago, I would’ve said she wanted me. To be with me.” Guinevere felt something in her stomach, something she couldn’t —and wouldn’t— put a name to, and did her best to keep a straight face.

“Stories from before the Breaking are vague, because so much has been lost.” Moiraine explained. “But every single one that mentions Lanfear agrees that she loved the Dragon Reborn. And that he loved her, before he met his wife.”

“But she was a Darkfriend.” Rand muttered, disbelief in his eyes.

“Only after he broke his heart. She swore her oaths to the Dark to try and get him back.”

“And what, you want me to make her think she had?” He asked, anger seeping from his voice, as he swiftly glanced at Guinevere. “You want me to pretend to be in love with a Forsaken?”

“Lanfear is working with Ishamael.” Moiraine insisted. “This could be our only chance to find out what he wants.”

“She’ll see right through it—

“Maybe,” Moiraine interrupted him, exasperated by the boy’s refusal to cooperate, “maybe, she might.”

Rand stared at her, and lazily shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered, “whatever she is, I don’t think everything between us was a lie.” He admitted, avoiding meeting Guinevere’s eyes, there was so much guilt on his face it seemed it would swallow him whole. She herself felt her cheeks burn at his statement, but if any of them noticed, they didn’t comment on it.

“It’s your choice Rand,” Moiraine said, truthfully, “I mean it this time.”

Rand hesitated for a second, shifting on his feet, before walking towards the bed, standing before it while putting on a brave expression, but Guinevere could tell the fear that hunched over his shoulders, could feel his heart racing. “I don’t think I can fall asleep now,” he cleared his voice, “Gwen helped me out moments ago.”

“I can get you back to sleep.” She replied, in a thin voice.

“We’ll stay here,” the older woman interjected, “if it seems as if she’s hurting you… I’ll wake you.”

“And if you fall asleep?”

“I won’t let her.” Guinevere assured. “And I won’t let anything happen to you, Rand. I can put you to sleep just as easily as I can wake you. Trust me.”

“I do.” He said, and then he dropped onto the bed. Guinevere sat beside him, and grabbed his arm. “I’m going to… manipulate your heart rate, make it low enough that you go into slumber. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“I believe you.”

“Alright… just, try not to freak out. It can feel… uncomfortable, or at least that’s what I’ve been told.” She admitted, as she tightened her grip on his arm, slowly and precisely turning it around, immersing herself in him. It was risky, slowing someone’s heart, her own pounding for dear life against her chest, but years of experience had taught her well. She steadied her breath, focusing on his heart rhythm, and nothing else. For some reason, she always imagined a flame in a void to help her concentrate. She didn’t remember whether an older Aes Sedai had taught her that, or if she had dreamt of it, but it always worked like a charm. And soon enough, Rand had closed his eyes, his breath even, mouth slightly opened. He’d fallen asleep. “I guess we have to wait now.” She commented, gently dropping the boy’s hand, turning her head towards her aunt.

“Now we wait.” She agreed, locking her eyes into hers. “Is that another one of your Talents? Cardiac Arrest?” Moiraine asked, as she walked towards the armchair next to the fireplace.

“Not quite,” Guinevere responded, taking a seat in front of her. Her aunt, the comfort of the chair, the warm fire burning next to them… the scene felt eerily familiar. “I mean I can stop someone’s heart fully if I wanted, but mostly I can just change them, up and down. It’s very useful in the infirmary.”

“Mmh.” The woman smiled, a rare sight on her. “Any other Talents I should know about?”

“I don’t think so,” Guinevere chuckled, “Healing, Cardiac Arrest… Compulsion.” She added, in a whisper. She’d always felt ashamed of it.

Moiraine opened her mouth, and then closed it again, as if she feared regretting what she was about to ask. “How many times have you used it?”

“Not the amount you’re thinking about.” The girl replied. Moiraine lifted her eyebrows. She could tell when someone was purposely avoiding a direct answer. “I’ve barely used it, it makes me feel so guilty…” Stained. She admitted. “The last time being with Egwene.”

“Yes, how did you even know what to ask her?” Moiraine asked, sitting straighter, her elbows against the arms of the chair. “I’m curious, how did you know who she was?”

“I healed her,” Guinevere explained, “and the boy, Perrin, when they arrived at Tár Valon. She told me they were searching for you. At the time I didn’t care much about it, you were in the Tower… but after news came that you were exiled, that you’d travelled to Shayol Ghul and then went missing… when I saw Egwene at the Tower months later, I’m afraid I couldn’t help but to ambush her, and ask.”

“About the Dragon Reborn?”

“About you.” Guinevere drew a shaky exhale in, lowering her gaze. “I was worried…” That wasn’t exactly true. I was angry. I was resentful. I wanted answers. “...worried that I’d missed you at the Tower, and then would never have the chance of seeing you again. The whole… Dragon Reborn thing came as a total surprise to me. But it helped me understand… understand you. Your absence from the Tower.” From my life.

Guinevere looked up towards her aunt, and was surprised to see she was holding back tears. The woman shakily reached for the girl’s arm, softly caressing her forearm with her thumb. “Guinevere, I’m sure you have questions—

But they were interrupted by a loud exhale, abruptly standing up from their places as Rand incorporated from the bed. Guinevere noticed Moiraine raising her hands, shyly searching for weaves, only to seconds later let them fall weary against her waist. How hollow must she feel.

“Rand…?” Guinevere asked, cautiously, feeling the boy’s heart racing out of his chest, hers matching his in the process, while his expression drowned in rage.

“What did she say?” Moiraine asked.

“I have to go.” He said, shaking his head, heading for the door.

“Where? Did she tell you where?” Moiraine pried.

“No!” Rand exclaimed, turning around. “Away from you, that was her condition. If she sees us together again she’ll kill you. Both of you.” He added, his gaze whirling towards Guinevere, and then back to Moiraine again. “Logain,” he muttered, “you moved him to Cairhien, didn’t you? So that I’d come here?”

“Yes, of course.” Moiraine rushed to admit, as if she were trying to prove she hadn’t been caught in a lie. “Away from the White Tower, where you’d never be able to see him, where he’d never be able to teach you.”

“And you,” he whimpered, looking at Guinevere, “what you did to Egwene…” He started shaking his head, as Guinevere closed the steps between them, reaching for his hands. “What did she say to you?” She questioned him.

He raised his head, locking his eyes with hers, and Guinevere’s heart broke at the sight. He hates me. “You used the One Power on her.”

“I-I did,” the girl admitted, “but Rand, it’s not what you think—

“Can you truthfully tell me you didn’t use the One Power to force her into giving you information?”

Guinevere’s lips turned into a pout, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.“I-I can’t…” she confessed, “but it’s not like that, I didn’t hurt her!”

“Like hell you didn’t!” He replied, snatching his arm away from her grip, in a motion that hurted her more than she was willing to admit.

“Do you really believe I would hurt her?” Guinevere asked, offended. “That I’d hurt anyone?”

“I don’t know what I can believe anymore.” He sighed, lifting his arms. “I’ve stayed too long already.” He muttered, and left in a hurry.

“She’s a Forsaken, Rand. You cannot listen to her!” Moiraine insisted, yelling at his back, but Guinevere couldn’t do anything else but to watch him disappear behind a corner, heart shattered to pieces, tears falling onto her cheeks imbued with sadness, anger, and confusion, as she found herself unable to justify such intense emotions for a boy she’d met not long ago. Why does he matter so much to me? Why does it hurt me so much?

*********

Note:

Hello! I'm sorry this took so long, I'm in the middle of finals ahah. My mind has been all over the place lately, so I apologise if there are incoherences between the first chapters and this one, I'll focus this weekend on proofreading and editing, in the meantime, feel free to comment on what you think it's hard to follow, and where the inconsistencies are. Also, I know I said this would be a Siuan POV, but I'm trying to follow with the timeline of the TV series, and I can't fit a Siuan POV just yet. Next one will be a Moiraine's one, but the following one is Siuan's, I promise! Well, I hope you enjoy the story!

Chapter 4 here!

#the wheel of time #wheel of time #siuan sanche #moiraine damodred #moiraine sedai #anvaere damodred #moiraine x siuan #siuraine #moiraine and lan #egwene al'vere #rand al'thor x original female character #rand al'thor #rand al'thor x reader #mother!moiraine #mother!siuan #moiraine & original female character #moiraine & daughter #siuan & daughter

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skyholly · 5 months ago

Text

The best kept secret — WoT fanfiction

Summary: Moiraine and Siuan are forced to give up their baby daughter in order to fulfill their duty of finding the Dragon Reborn. Raised by her aunt Anvaere, Guinevere grows up unaware of her true parentage, excelling as an Aes Sedai at the White Tower. When Moiraine unexpectedly reenters her life amidst the search for the Dragon Reborn, Guinevere must confront some daunting truths.

moiraine/siuan

completed story (until s3 airs)

Chapter 1 here!

Chapter 2 here!

Chapter 3 here!

Chapter 4 here!

Chapter 5 here!

Chapter 6 here!

Chapter 7 here!

Chapter 8 here!

Chapter 9 here!

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skyholly · 5 months ago

Text

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

Chapter 1 here!

Chapter 2 here!

Chapter 3 here!

Chapter 4 here!

Chapter 5 here!

Chapter 6 here!

Chapter 7 here!

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

Chapter 8. Guinevere

With a simple blow of her lips, Lanfear sent them flying through the portal, and Guinevere instantly felt the warmth and powdery feeling of the sea engulfing her. She let herself immerse in it, calmness washing over her. Water had always had that effect on her, ever since she could remember. ‘My little guppy’, her father used to call her, she remembered with fondness, before the memory turned blue. Torvin isn’t your father.

And Moiraine is my mother , Guinevere thought, closing her eyes under the water, salt prickling her lips. I should’ve realised before . Her mother’s… Anvaere’s —she had to correct herself— reluctance to talk about Moiraine, her uncanny resemblance to the woman, her dreams as of late … It all was so obvious, so plain to the eye. She felt so stupid, so deceived. How did I miss it? How didn’t I realise? Why was it kept away from me? How did so many adults consent to it? Why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel relieved? Why do I feel so resentful? How could Moiraine care so little for me? How could she not wish to see me at least once? Why didn’t she care? Why does she still not care—? Her thoughts became overwhelmed by a piercing pain in her head, as if hammers were banging on it, as her lungs suffocated in water. She was drowning . She briskly opened her eyes, salt burning on them, as her arms desperately reached for the surface, when a strong hold grabbed her from her armpits and hastily pulled her out of the water. Guinevere took deep, desperate breaths, coughing water away from her lungs.

“Burn me!” Lan complained, water up to his chest, as he carried her to the shore. “Haven’t you been taught how to swim?”

Guinevere was so dumbfounded by the question, she hesitated for a moment before answering, staring at the man with an irritated look on her face. “Of course I know how to swim,” she scoffed, as he placed her on the ground, her feet warming up at being slightly buried in the hot sand, “I was just… thinking.”

“On how drowning would make for a fitting end?” The man mocked her, making sure her stance was steady before letting her go.

Guinevere creased her eyes in astonishment. “Aren’t you supposed to be the quiet one? The brooding one?” She silently remarked, annoyed, crossing her arms against the wet fabric over her chest. Guinevere glanced around and saw nothing but water and sand. They were in a desert that stretched to the ocean’s shore. This isn’t Falme, she realised, anxiously snapping her head around. How did we end up here? Her mind was a blur of memories, and she was confused for a second, before all the recent events came rushing back to her.

Lanfear almost killing her felt like a dream, something unreal, but the tightness of the silver linings pressing against her skin proved otherwise.

She’d also attacked the Amyrlin, and Guinevere had tried to help her, before Lanfear furiously dragged her into the Ways.

Guinevere was enraged at the woman. She curious about why she hated her so much. Moiraine was curious about her dreams.

Lanfear opened the portal to Falme.

Lanfear thrusted into her brain, her mind drowning in painful realisations. She admitted them three being important, that they all had a role to play still in Falme.

Lanfear sent them flying through the portal.

But they weren’t in Falme.

What is Lanfear planning?

Guinevere kept on looking around, when her eyes stumbled upon her aunt Moiraine — your mother, Moiraine — away from the shore, studying their location. “Where are we?” She asked the Warder.

“I don’t know,” Lan confessed, “but we better follow her.” He said, pointing towards the Aes Sedai. Guinevere glared at the older woman, feeling her skin burning with all fury and rage and resentment and sadness and curiosity bottled up on her.

“Guinevere—” Moiraine whispered, raising her hands in surrender, with a tiresome look on her face, at the sight of the girl marching towards her with menacing steps.

“Why?” The girl asked dryly, stilling in front of her, biting her lips to prevent tears falling from her eyes. Every breath felt like stale air as she waited for Moiraine’s response. “Why?”

“Guinevere…” The older woman sighed, shaking her head, “you were never supposed to—”

“Why?!” She insisted, forcing the older woman into a guarded position.

“I-I-I had a mission,” Moiraine stuttered, her eyebrows frowned in trepidation, “a duty towards the—”

“Why?!” The young girl’s whimpers interrupted her. “Mother or aunt, it makes no difference, why did you ignore me all those years? Why did you never look for me at the White Tower? I was right there.”

Moiraine pursed her lips into a thin, harrowing line; her eyes creased with grief, “Guinevere, is not that easy to explain—”

“Did you ever stop to think about how neglected I would feel? How alone? How I’d grown up hearing Barthanes’ stories about our impossibly funny, caring, exceptional aunt only to find out she was anything but that?!” Guinevere sobbed, her words pouring out of her mouth in a torrent of anger. “At first I had made peace with the fact that you simply remained permanently away from the Tower but to learn that you actually visited it regularly and you couldn’t look for me even once —”

“It was too hard, Guinevere!” Moiraine barked, anger seething through her teeth. “Getting close to you would’ve endangered the whole mission, which is the reason I left you with your aunt in the first place!” She kept on screaming, but she immediately regretted speaking to her in such a harsh voice. Moiraine tried to approach her, taking gentle steps towards her, arms reaching for the girl’s hand, but Guinevere backed away, roughly brushing the bitter tears away from her cheeks, leaving an almost invisible trail of sand over her face.

“Where are we anyway?” She sniffed her crying away, crossing her arms over her chest in an indifferent motion, studying her surroundings. “Do you even know where Falme is?”

The older woman stared at her feet, and shook her head, before raising her gaze towards her, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Guinevere—” Moiraine insisted again, reaching for her.

The young girl sharply pushed the woman’s arm away, and took a few steps back, maintaining the distance between them. “I don’t want to talk about it, alright?” She snapped, overwhelmed. “It’s… I’m… I’m just…I-I-I need some time. To think, alright?” She looked at Moiraine, and gazed into her eyes, as blue as the midnight sky , before the older woman nodded. Guinevere mimicked her gesture, pursing her lips in discomfort. “Do you know where Falme is? We need to get to Rand.” She urged her.

“It’s that way,” Moiraine replied, gulping as she pointed toward what appeared to Guinevere to be an endless desert. Despite her doubts, Moiraine’s confidence made it hard for Guinevere not to believe she knew what she was doing.

“Alright, then.” Guinevere bit her lip, casting a final glance at Moiraine before resolutely heading in the direction Moiraine had indicated. She walked in haste, eager to make some space between her and the pair. Guinevere could feel the sand shifting beneath her feet, water tickling her ankles, the sun beating down on them mercilessly.

Her mind was a storm of emotions. She almost wished Lanfear had stayed quiet, that she could remain oblivious to the truth. Knowing her aunt didn’t care for her was one thing, but realising her own mother had refused to acknowledge her existence for so many years… That the only reason Moiraine had reentered her life was because of the Dragon Reborn. The sting of that revelation cut deep.

Guinevere tried to empathise with Moiraine’s situation. It couldn’t have been an easy choice to leave her behind. At least, she hoped it hadn’t been. But bitterness and anger furiously overpowered any sentiment of sympathy she might have felt. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she came to a halt, and closed her eyes, feeling the water at her feet, letting it wash some of her anger away.

Moiraine did what she thought was best. She made sure you grew up in a loving family. She had a difficult choice to make, and did what best she could. She assured herself. But was it even? The sneaky thought creeped into her mind. A difficult choice? Guinevere snapped her eyes open, the sun blinding her for an instant. She couldn’t make sense of her own emotions. She wanted to slap and punch and hurt her for neglecting her all those years. She stood in awe of her, for remaining so dutiful. She resented the fact she’d considered the mission more important than her. She hated that she couldn’t help but love the woman nonetheless.

She turned around, and saw the pair less than half a mile behind, almost embracing each other, a silver weave of the One Power circling them. They’re bonding again , Guinevere realised in astonishment. She wasn’t jealous of their bond; rather, she felt a deep curiosity for a connection she had never known. She’d never taken on a Warder, as she didn’t want to have a man following her around all day, and besides, most Yellow Sisters didn’t take on Warders, as they weren’t really needed. But she’d always been intrigued on what it felt like. For nineteen years, Lan had been Moiraine’s Warder. Guinevere wondered what that meant for her. Was he there the day she was born? Was he even her Warder at that time? She shook her head in frustration. They needed to get to Rand. She focused her sight on the front once more, and began walking one again.

Ahead, the desert stretched out endlessly, the horizon wavering in the heat. Guinevere’s thoughts were so consumed that she barely noticed when Lan caught up to her.

“Slow down,” he urged gently, his tone softer than before. “We need to stay together.”

She glanced at him, her expression hard, and then sighed, her shoulders sagging. He was right, of course. As much as she wanted to run away from Moiraine, she knew she couldn’t afford to be reckless. Not now.

“Fine,” she muttered, slowing her pace but not stopping. “But I’m not ready to talk to her.”

Lan nodded, understanding in his eyes. “Take your time. Just don’t wander off.”

As they continued, the terrain began to change subtly. The sand became firmer, as mountains started to rise by their path. After a while, Moiraine caught up, maintaining a respectful distance behind Guinevere. The silence between them was heavy, laden with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the dunes, Lan suggested they make camp for the night. He built a small fire, the flames flickering against the encroaching darkness. “Sit by the fire,” he instructed the two women, “I’ll check the area for any danger.”

Before he left, Lan removed his own cape and gently draped it over Guinevere’s shoulders. “Stay warm,” he said quietly, his eyes full of concern. Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the desert, leaving Guinevere and Moiraine to share the warmth of the fire.

The two exchanged furtive glances, the silence growing increasingly uncomfortable, until Guinevere finally broke it. “I don’t think I’m angry, you know.” She said, in a small voice, avoiding looking at Moiraine. “Upset, yes, but not angry.”

“Are you sure?” The woman asked, searching for her eyes. “You’d have every right to—”

“I understand,” Guinevere interrupted her, restless, eager to get this matter over with, “at least I think I do. I would’ve been angrier,” she confessed, “if I believed it was a matter of convenience, but I know now it wasn’t. Or that I hope, at least. You had a mission, far more important than raising a child… You did what you had to do, and I understand that.”

“Are you sure?” Moiraine insisted, taking her hands, and this time Guinevere didn’t resist her touch. “You can be angry at me, Guinevere. Light knows I… you can ask me questions, if you’d like to.”

Guinevere hesitated, her lips parting and closing as she struggled to find the right words, if there even was such a thing. “I don’t think that’s for the best,” the girl finally said, staring into her eyes, “in fact I wish for things to remain as they are… o-or were. I must admit I am… shocked by this, but it doesn’t change anything for me, not really. I have a loving mother, have— had a loving father, and a happy family and childhood. And I guess I have you to thank for that as well. That you made sure of that.”

Moiraine squeezed her daughter’s hands, as she pursed her lips, and slowly nodded, fighting back tears. She seemed hurt by her statement, as if she were expecting more of the girl, but Guinevere couldn’t make sense of her emotions. “You’re very compassionate, Guinevere,” Moiraine blubbered, “and I can’t claim that’s a trait you got from me.”

Guinevere abruptly snapped her head towards Moiraine, her cheeks reddening not from the fire’s heat but from embarrassment, action that didn’t go unnoticed by the older woman. “What is it?” Moiraine asked, encouraging her to share what was on her mind.

Guinevere’s blush deepened, unsure of how to phrase her question. “It’s just…” she began, fidgeting and picking at her nails, “I’ve been wondering… w-what about my father?” Her voice trembled with apprehension.

Contrary to her fears, Moiraine’s eyes softened at the mention of the man. “He was very compassionate too,” she said, a wistful smile tugging at her lips, “and he had a talent for music. A talent you share as well, I’ve been told.”

Guinevere hesitated, already dreading the answer to her next question. “Had?” She whispered softly.

The older woman inhaled. “He’s been gone for a long time now.” Moiraine confessed, gulping.

Guinevere nodded, guilty about not feeling sad. She had had a father, Torvin, and she had mourned him as such, but this man… her biological father, he wasn’t anything to her. Should I feel sad? I don’t feel sad about him dying, I only wish I could’ve known him. “How?”

Moiraine pursed her lips into a sad grin. “I wouldn’t know.”

Guinevere only hummed in response, as she noticed Moiraine straightening her posture, and sensed her heart start beating at a faster pace. “There’s something else you ought to know, Guinevere,” Moiraine said, gathering courage, “since we’re already on the matters of fathers and parents and… well, now that you’ve found out that… well, that you’ve found out the truth…”

“That you’re my mother.” Guinevere finished for her, staring deeply into her eyes. Moiraine gulped, swallowing a sob. “Yes, well, now that you know—”

“What is it?” The girl urged her, gently.

Moiraine took a deep breath, steadying herself. “I had a partner,” she began, her voice trembling slightly, “not- not your father, he was just—”

“It’s the Amyrlin, isn’t it?” Guinevere interrupted her, with the ghost of a mischievous grin on her face.

Moiraine’s eyes widened in shock, as Guinevere shrugged her shoulders. “It wasn’t that hard to figure out,” she explained, “I was in the Sun Castle and in the Waygate with you both.”

“Alright,” Moiraine nodded, awkwardly processing the information, “well you should know, Siuan was my partner while… while I was pregnant with you.”

“Oh.” Guinevere didn't exactly understand the dynamic between the three, but she felt she would be stepping over the line if she asked about it.

“And she is your mother as well, or at least she—I mean we both, regarded you as our daughter at one point. She cares for you in ways she has not been allowed to demonstrate. I just thought you should know.”

Guinevere nodded. “Alright…” she whispered, indecisive.

“What is it?” Moiraine asked the girl, gently grabbing her shoulder, noting her apprehension.

“Nothing, it’s just… What do you mean by ‘at one point’?”

“Oh.”

“Hm.”

Moiraine turned her head, her eyes staring deeply into the fire. “I meant that at one point we did consider raising you, before the prophecy came down on us and we had to choose otherwise.”

“So you were happy?” She asked, unsurem her heartbeat starting to race on her chest. “About me?”

“Of course we were!” Moiraine exclaimed, turning towards her, embracing her hands. “We both were excited and longing for you, you shouldn’t doubt that, not now or ever.”

It was Guinevere’s turn to swallow a sob. “Alright,” she whimpered, “thank you.”

“Oh, Winnie…” Moiraine whispered, placing a hand on the girl’s face, tenderly brushing her cheek, when they became startled by a figure walking towards them.

The two of them stood up in alert, Moiraine reaching for the One Power and Guinevere for the knife against her thigh, until their shoulders dropped in relief, realising it was just Lan returning from his rounds.

“Everything alright?” Moiraine asked him, sitting down once again.

“Everything seems… quiet. I’ll remain awake, you two have some rest.”

“Alright.” The two women conceded, laying down against the sand, using their capes as covers. The last thing Guinevere noticed before falling asleep were Moiraine’s soft caresses on her hand.

Guinevere abruptly woke up, with a scream stuck down her throat, her agitated chest rising up and down at an uneven pace. Lan was already by her side before she could notice, putting the cape over her shoulders once again, shielding her from the bitter wind, asking her if she was alright.

“I-I am—”

“Guinevere?” Moiraine asked, worry creasing her brows as she pulled her into a reassuring embrace. “Was it Lanfear? Did she hurt you?”

“N-No,” the girl muttered, her voice softening as she leaned into Moiraine’s comforting presence, “it was just a nightmare, that’s all.”

Guinevere felt Moiraine sigh in relief before gently holding her by the shoulders, guiding her to a distance where they could meet eye to eye. “Guinevere…” the woman began, her voice shaky, “I need you to tell me about your dreams.”

A blush spread across the young girl’s cheeks. “Why?”

“That does not matter, what are these dreams about?” Moiraine insisted.

Guinevere cautiously stared at the woman, frustrated by her reluctance to share information. “Does this have anything to do with Lanfear calling me Ilyena?”

Moiraine warily hummed in response.

“Who was she?”

Moiraine took a deep, quivery breath. “Ilyena Therin Moerelle. She was the wife of Lews Therin Telamon. Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die, as the madness had already taken over him.”

Ilyena Therin Moerelle. She was the wife of Lews Therin Telamon. Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die, as the madness had already taken over him , the words resonated in Guinevere’s mind.

She was the wife of Lews Therin Telamon. Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die, as the madness had already taken over him.

Brutally murdered by him after he’d made her watch their children die.

Those words felt like nails being viciously hammered into her brain. Guinevere widened her eyes in panic, her breathing growing ragged, as realisation fell upon her.

“G-Guinevere,” Moiraine stuttered, “what is it?”

“M-My dreams…” the girl stammered, “they’ve always been the same. Three little children — my children, somehow— dying in front of me, and I can’t do anything about that. There’s always a man… A man I could never recognise, but ever since I met Rand… It’s like I know it’s him, despite them looking nothing alike.”

Moiraine closed her eyes in resignation, her head tilting the slightest, as she subtly let an exhale out, her face tensing with frustration.

“W-What is it?” Guinevere asked fearfully, studying the fleeting glances exchanged between Moiraine and her Warder.

“Nothing I would like you to worry about.” Moiraine replied, though her voice betrayed a hint of unease.

Guinevere’s heart pounded in her chest. “You don’t get to keep secrets from me anymore, Moiraine,” she taunted, her voice tinged with defiance.

Moiraine’s eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and resignation. “Guinevere, some truths are burdensome. I only wish to protect you.”

“Tell me.” The girl insisted.

Moiraine clenched her jaw, her gaze steely. “I won’t.”

“Tell. Me.”

“No.” Moiraine snapped, losing her patience, turning her face away from her.

Guinevere’s face flushed with anger, as she took the older woman by the shoulders, forcing her to face her. “What do my dreams mean?”

“They mean that Lanfear’s assumptions are correct,” Moiraine barked, eyes furrowing with sorrow, “you are the reincarnation of Ilyena, just as Rand is the Lews Therin Telamon reborn. Your dreams aren’t nightmares, Guinevere, they’re memories.”

Guinevere shut her eyes, as she recalled her dreams, the children's screams slicing through her mind like shards of glass. The haunting images of their small, fragile bodies, lifeless and cold, burned behind her eyelids. Each cry echoed in her soul, tearing at her heart, the agony almost too much to bear. She felt the overwhelming weight of helplessness and grief, a visceral pain that twisted her insides and left her gasping for breath. The horror of their deaths was seared into her consciousness, an unrelenting nightmare that refused to fade.

In that moment, a terrifying clarity washed over her. “I ought to stay away from Rand, then.” She exhaled, opening her eyes, which were brimming with tears.

Moiraine reached for her, and softly rubbed her thumb against the girl’s cheek. “I don’t think the Wheel will give you such a choice.” She said, sorrowfully. “But there’s still time, the Pattern is not yet weaved, do not fright. Rest, for now. I’ll make sure no nightdreams haunt you the rest of the night.”

Guinevere wasn’t sure on how Moiraine could achieve such a thing, but she didn’t comment on it. “Thank you.” She whispered, leaning into Moiraine’s touch. It feels nice. It feels right.

Guinevere laid down on the sand, and closed her eyes, immediately falling asleep, and nothing but darkness visited her afterwards.

Lan woke her up at the crack of dawn, softly brushing on her shoulders. Guinevere sighed, feeling warm and rested, and opened her eyes to discover she was huddled against Moiraine. The woman’s presence beside her brought a rush of conflicting emotions; gratitude for Moiraine’s help, confusion over the night’s events, and an inexplicable sense of closeness that both comforted and unsettled her. Anvaere is your mother.

“Good morning, Guinevere,” Lan said quietly, his voice breaking the momentary silence. His eyes held a mix of concern and something else she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Good morning, Lan,” Guinevere replied, her voice hoarse from sleep. She shifted slightly, trying not to disturb Moiraine, who still slept peacefully beside her.

Lan handed her a waterskin and a piece of dried fruit. “Eat and drink. We need to move soon. I’ll let Moiraine rest some more; she needs it.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Guinevere accepted the provisions and took a few sips of water. Once the sun sat higher on the sky, the man woke the Aes Sedai up, and they set off towards Falme once again.

Moiraine led the group, and Guinevere closely followed her steps, finding herself growing more at ease with the woman’s presence. She isn’t so bad , she thought. It would take her some time to get over her resentment, but maybe one day they’d be able to discuss things further, with more clarity. Her contemplations were interrupted as Lan hurried to join them.

“You’re faster than you used to be.” He teased Moiraine, and Guinevere could see a hint of a smile on the woman’s face.

“Feels like I’m running without buckets on my back.” She joked back. Guinevere didn’t understand what she meant by that. Moiraine remained quiet for a moment, before turning her head towards the man, not slowing down. “You’re thinking about Lanfear.”

The man nodded. “I still don’t understand why he only woke her.” Lan explained.

“They’re too dangerous, I think, the others,” Moiraine explained. “The Forsaken fought amongst themselves as much as they fought the Dragon. But everything I found out said that Lanfear, Lews Therin, and Ishamael were inseparable before the War of Power…” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of something ahead that left her momentarily stunned. Guinevere followed her gaze and spotted it in the distance: Toman Head.

“I think I know where we are,” the older woman said, her tone weighted with realisation. “Lanfear planned this.”

“ ‘ Above the Watchers shall the Dragon be proclaimed… ” Guinevere whispered, “ bannered ‘cross the sky in fire .’ That’s what Verin Sedai said. Lanfear wants you to raise the banner, she said so herself. She said we all had a role to play still.” Guinevere resolved. Moiraine nodded slowly, her expression grave with the weight of worry. “But what role do I have to play in all of this?” The girl asked.

Moiraine pursed her lips in concern. “I don’t know.” She replied, troubled.

They continued walking at a haste, Lan scanning their surroundings with a worried furrow in his brow, until they were mere miles from the Tower. Moiraine sighed, her gaze sweeping the area, freezing in place as her eyes stumbled upon a dozen boats lined along the coast right beside the Tower. Guinevere followed the trail of her gaze, and noticed silver lining flowing through the boats, towards the top of the Tower, and froze in her place as well, as she exchanged a worried look with Moiraine.

“Keep moving,” Lan urged them, apprehensive, “there’s watchers on these cliffs. What is it?”

“Shielding.” Moiraine and Guinevere said in unison.

“Are there weaves?” Lan asked.

“I think it’s Rand they’re shielding.” Moiraine deciphered, carefully studying the threads.

Suddenly, Guinevere felt a searing pain in her abdomen, so intense that it nearly brought her to her knees. She grunted, clutching her side.

“What is it?” Moiraine asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I-I don’t know,” the girl confessed, her mind rushing into a thousand different conclusions, “but I think… I think Rand has been hurt. I know he’s been hurt,” she corrected herself, “I don’t know how, I just know it.”

Moiraine glanced at Guinevere, then at the boats, exchanging a meaningful look with Lan that left Guinevere feeling perplexed. What are they thinking? What are they planning?

“Why?” The man asked. “You don’t know who they are. What if Lanfear put us here for you to do this? What if those ships are full of innocent people? What if it’s not Rand?” Guinevere’s eyes widened in shock. Moiraine is planning to sink those boats.

“I will let a thousand innocent people die if there’s even a chance that he will live.” Moiraine snapped. “That is what it means to support him, do you understand that?” Lan remained unsure, but Guinevere positioned herself behind Moiraine, with a fierce look on her face, letting it be clear she supported the woman’s intentions. It went completely against everything she’d been taught as a Healer, but she knew there was no other option, as the pain in her gut became more and more intense. Rand’s dying, he thought, desperation creeping down her stomach.

Suddenly, shouts erupted from behind them, and they turned to see several men on horseback galloping towards them. Guinevere froze at the sight of the horses, as realisation fell upon her.

“I need one of those horses,” Guinevere abruptly declared, “I need to get to Rand. I know he’s hurt, I can heal him. And we need to remove the shield from him. This is why Lanfear put us here. Mo-Moiraine, you can attack those boats from here.” She said, turning around, but someone’s grip on her arm didn’t allow her to go away. Moiraine’s.

“Winnie…” The woman whispered.

“I’ll be alright,” the girl assured her, “I know what I’m doing. And besides, you said it yourself. This is what it means to support him.”

Moiraine nodded, but was still reluctant to let her go, which left Guinevere with no other choice but to use a certain Talent of hers. She grasped Moiraine’s arms, feeling the One Power's warmth course through her veins, and saw the recognition in the woman’s eyes—she understood but did not resist. “It will make things easier, the mission is what matters most now.” Guinevere explained. Moiraine hesitated for a moment, before easing into the girl’s Talent.

An excruciatingly long second passed, before Moiraine drew her hands away, straightening her posture, exchanging a meaningful look with Lan. And before Guinevere could even realise, Moiraine was weaving threads of golden weaves and Lan was fighting the approaching soldiers with a precision and determination the girl didn’t even believe possible. Guinevere herself took some of them down, using one of her Talents, which secured her a horse. She swiftly mounted it, and rode towards the Tower.

She jumped its steps two at a time, until she reached the top, where she stood for a moment in shock. Rand was just by the stairs, laying hurt on the floor, over the arms of a long-limbed, wiry boy with brown eyes, while Egwene was pulling on a dangerous amount of the One Power to protect him from a man’s attack. Ishamael , Guinevere realised, in terror. The man looked at her, recognition flickering in his eyes.

She allowed herself one more glance at the man, before running towards the redheaded boy. “Rand!” She whimpered, falling onto the ground next to him, her knees scratching on the process, desperately reaching for his abdomen.

“Gwen,” he exhaled, his mouth curling into a sweet smile as her name left his lips, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. “W-What are you doing here? How did you get here? I thought Lanfear…”

Guinevere hushed him, as she had no intention of paying any mind to his words, as healing him was her role. She was staring in distress at his wound, on the side of his abdomen, exactly where she had felt the piercing pain. Guinevere’s breath got caught up on her throat at the realisation that it’d been performed by a dark weapon. That’s alright, you can handle this, she tried calming herself. She closed her eyes, seeking for the flame and the void, steading her breath and her heartbeat, as she pulled on golden weaves that quickly started to heal the darkened injury. She opened her eyes moments later, to find Rand’s wound cured, for the most of it at least, and more people surrounding them. A tall man carrying a big axe, who she recognised as Perrin, the boy that she had healed at Tár Valon, and two more women she didn’t know. A dark haired one and a red haired one. The woman with dark hair had her hair braided over her shoulder, and was wearing the clothes and makeup of a sul’dam. Guinevere couldn’t puzzle out why everyone was so calm at the thought of such a vicious woman being by their side, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Rand remained in shock, brushing over his healed injury, as Egwene’s agonising screams reached them. Guinevere took a better look at her, and had to prevent a sob from leaving her lips at noticing her ragged clothing, how scrawny she looked, how pale and fragile. She’s been forced into becoming a damane at one point , she realised, in dismay, fury starting to make her blood boil.

“Rand, Rand,” the boy who was holding him urged him, grasping how Egwene was growing weaker by the second, “you’re gonna have to do something.”

“I-I can’t,” the redheaded boy whispered, agitated, “I’m shielded.”

Come on, Moiraine , Guinevere urged her in her thoughts, as tears threatened to fall through her cheeks, we need you… I need you now, mother.

**********

Author's Note: Alright, only one chapter left! It'll probably be published next week. I must say, I wrote this in a haste and it has NOT been proofread at all, and english is not my first language, so please please comment on any incoherences. There's only one chapter left, before an epilogue, which I'll probably take a long time to publish since I will use the time bewteen the last chapter and the epilogue to do some HEAVY editing, but that will have to be after finals. Again, I hope the decline in comments it's not due to the story being a dissapointment, and if it is, please tell me what you wished would've happened different, or in which direction you would've liked the fic to go to. Thanks for reading and commenting, I appreciate it a lot, and I hope you enjoy this rather messy chapter!

Chapter 9 here!

16 notes · View notes

skyholly · 6 months ago

Text

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

Chapter 1 here!

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

Chapter 2: Moiraine

Moiraine couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw her. She was so grown up. Her father’s words resounded in her ears. Time is a thief.

Her hair, of the warmest brown, sat neatly over her shoulders, when she’d once had soft, chestnut blonde curls. Her eyes remained the deepest of blue, but with more wisdom to them. Her height surprised her the most; the last time she saw her she could barely reach her waist, whilst now she stood almost as tall as her. And of course, that ring on her finger. That cursed ring. She knew when she’d joined the Tower and she knew she’d joined the Yellow Ajah, Siuan always kept her informed on such matters, but she very much wished she hadn’t. She had hoped she couldn’t have been able to channel. That she was allowed a normal life, a complete foreigner to the Tower’s demands. But the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.

It took Moiraine a moment to get a hold of herself, and before she realised it, she’d made her way home, muttered some words, and suddenly she found herself tucking a strand of hair behind Guinevere’s ear, her mind flooding with memories of that week, a week that she had so earnestly tried to erase from her memory, and yet could never fully escape it. I can never seen her again.

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

Moiraine knew she shouldn’t, and yet, she couldn’t help it. She’d been sent on business to Cairhien by the Amyrlin’s orders and could stay at whatever inn she pleased, preferably while maintaining a low profile. But being in the city ignited something within her—a yearning, an ache that burned throughout her entire being. Before she could gather her thoughts, she found herself dragging Lan through the city’s streets and passageways etched into her memory, towards the childhood home she’d promised herself never to return to, until she was ready. The Light knew she wasn’t, but she couldn’t fight the feeling, the yearning to see her.

“This isn’t wise, Moiraine.” Lan warned her. But he could feel everything she did, and he couldn’t help but to sympathise with what her Aes Sedai was going trough, all of her emotions burning within him as well. He diligently followed the woman across the city, until they reached a big, wealthy house with an enormous door on its front. “Moiraine.” He alerted her again, but she remained indifferent to it. Just one look at her. One look at her and I’m gone.

Moiraine walked the steps towards the door, hesitating for a second, before knocking on it. She could hear some mayhem taking place inside the house, little footsteps running towards their direction, and the voice of a man, gentle, yet commanding, yelling for someone, before there was silence. Seconds later, the door opened abruptly, revealing who was behind such chaos. A man, tall, advanced in years, with grey hair and a smile so wide and kind it translated into his eyes, was standing before them, holding a giggling toddler in his arms. The three year old girl had golden, chestnut curls pulled into two braids; eyes the colour of midnight sky, and a mischievous grin on her face that would easily let any parent know she was a handful. Moiraine felt herself melt at such sight.

“Moiraine!” The older man happily exclaimed, opening his eyes in surprise, hastily stepping aside to let the pair in. “It’s been so long, four years if I’m not mistaken, what are you doing here?” He asked, shifting the toddler from one arm to the other, who had suddenly gone silent at the presence of the two strangers.

Moiraine knew she ought to answer, her brain knew as much, but she couldn’t draw her gaze away from the little girl in the man’s arms. She was so precious, every bit of endearing and magical as she had pictured her to be. She instantly felt compelled to take the toddler into her arms, and realised what a terrible mistake she’d made by returning. You fool! You most definitely aren’t ready. You’re endangering everything.

“We're on Tower’s business,” Lan rushed to explain, noticing Moiraine was too absent minded to do so herself, “and we thought we’d stop by. My name is Lan Mandragoran, I’m Moiraine’s Warder.” He said, extending a hand towards him, which the older man shook happily. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Lan. I’m Torvin, Anvaere’s husband. ” He introduced himself, with a big smile, as he tilted his face towards the little girl resting her head on his shoulder. “This is our daughter, Guinevere. Winnie, this is your aunt Moiraine, and his Warder, Lan. Aren’t you going to say hi?”

Guinevere stared at them, a shy smile covering her face, before she nudged even further into her father’s chest. “Has a mouse eaten your tongue? Why are you so quiet all of the sudden?” He teased her, as he started tickling the toddler, which managed to get her to erupt in giggles.

“Darling?” A voice echoed from within the hall, a voice she could recognise anywhere. Moiraine felt herself go pale. Anvaere. “Who is it so late in the evening?” The woman asked, as she joined them in the room, but went still at the sight of their guests. At the sight of one guest in particular. “Moiraine,” she exhaled.

“Hello, little sister. You look well,” Moiraine said, finally tearing her gaze from the toddler. “You all do.”

“We are.” Anvaere nodded, as she approached her husband, taking the child from his arms protectively into hers, with a hint of worry in her eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by her older sister. “We’re all very happy indeed.”

“And I’m glad, sister, I truly am.” She professed, taking a quick glance at the young girl before stepping back towards the warder, a flicker of both anger and sympathy showing in Anvaere's expression. “We were sent to Caihrien on Amyrlin’s order and we thought we’d stop here, just as Lan said. Nothing more.”

Moiraine and Anvaere stared at each other for a moment, silently speaking in their own language no one else knew. Moiraine understood why her sister was acting so guarded. The Aes Sedai puckered her eyes into a pleading expression, biting on her lip. I just want to see her. I’m not here to take her away from you. Anvaere felt her chest tighten at such sight, she couldn’t help but to empathise with her older sister. It broke her heart to see her like that.

“You better join us for dinner, then.” Anvaere smiled, leaving a kiss on Guinevere’s temple. “You’ll always be welcome to stay here, sister.”

Dinner went smoothly, their discussions centred around Barthanes’ travels to visit his uncle, how expertly he faired despite his young age, the latest scandals among Cairhien’s noble Houses, news from the Sun Palace, and whatever little they could speak of the Tower. Yet it ended fairly quickly, under the excuse that they needed to put Guinevere to bed early, lest she got moody.

Anvaere had cambers prepared for the both of them, separate of course, as Lan was guided into one of the guests’ rooms and Moiraine into her own childhood bedroom. She was settling in, a torrent of memories coming back to her, when she heard a shy knock on the door, and then noticed someone peeking through a small gap in the opening. A tiny someone. And suddenly, a little girl came in rushing, lightly closing the door behind her. Moiraine remained still in her place next to the fireplace, deliberating on whether sending the girl back to her room, or allowing her to stay.

Guinevere stood quiet, her back rigid against the door, her gaze set intensely into the older woman’s. “Is it true you’re an Aes Sedai? My brother says you are one.” She asked, bluntly, a hint ofboth fear and curiosity ringing in her voice.

Moiraine couldn’t help but smile. “I am,” she said, raising the hand where she carried her ring, “would you like to come see?”

Guinevere eagerly nodded, and then hesitantly walked towards the armchair Moiraine was sitting in. She softly brushed her fingers against the ring, staring in awe at the serpents that shaped it and the blue stone in the middle. “This gives you magic?” She asked.

“No,” Moiraine softly laughed, removing it from her finger and handing it to the little girl, “the One Power is within all of us, within every stone, every body of water, every burning fire, every wind that blows on your hair. Some women simply are capable of pulling on its weaves.” She explained. Some men, as well.

“Woah,” Guinevere exhaled, grabbing the ring, the jewel fitting loose on her little finger, “how do you find the weaves?” The child asked, tilting her head in confusion. She didn’t see any strings around, how could someone pull on something it didn’t exist?

“Like this.” Moiraine said, as she moved her hands in smooth motions, causing the fire on the chimney to unexpectedly burn higher and more fiercely.

Guinevere gasped, both in amazement and fear, as she jumped into Moiraine’s lap, her little hands gripping on her chest. “You don’t need to be scared,” the woman chuckled, instinctively embracing the little girl, “it won’t hurt you.”

The child kept staring in wonder at the dancing flames, and then turned towards her aunt. “Can I do that too?” Guinevere earnestly asked her, her big eyes, an exact copy of Moiraine’s, full of fascination. That look pulled at the woman’s heart strings, a wave of sadness and nostalgia of what could’ve been filling her with sorrow. Oh, my dearest Siuan, if only you could see her.

“Maybe,” she whispered, gently tucking a strand of hair behind the little girl’s ear, “we’ll have to wait until you’re older, sometimes the ability to channel comes later. Speaking of late,” she added, taking Guinevere by her arms as to set her on the floor once again, “I believe you should be off to bed.”

“No!” The girl yelled, holding on tighter to her aunt, all the shyness from before nothing but a stranger to her at that point. “I don’t want to go. I want you to tell me stories about Aes Sedai and magic and monsters.” She begged, pouting, eyes furrowing into the sweetest pleading expression she’d ever seen. How could anyone refuse? She suddenly understood Torvin’s words.

Moiraine couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, giving in to Guinevere's cries. She helped the girl settle into her lap, a smug smile taking over the toddler’s semblance upon getting what she wanted. “Does that always work for you?” She asked, smiling.

“Usually.”

Moiraine started reciting tales about kings and queens from ancient times, as Guinevere’s unwavering stare on her kept turning into frowns and smiles and grins as she listened to the amazing stories her aunt told her. They remained like that, entranced in their own little world, until they heard a voice resound in the hallway.

“Guinevere!” Anvaere’s angry voice reached them. “Where are you? Torvin, I can’t find Winnie!” She yelled, panic slowly settling into her.

Moiraine turned towards the toddler. “Does your mother not know you’re here?” The girl shook her head, her face mimicking Moiraine’s own guilty expression.

“Mama, I’m here!” She screamed, as she hopped off the armchair and ran towards the door. Anvaere barged into the room, just as the girl reached for it. “Winnie,” she sighed, relieved, picking the toddler up in her arms,“what were you doing in here?”

“Aunt Moiraine was telling me a story!” She exclaimed, excitedly. Anvaere directed her gaze towards her sister, who had stood up, uncomfortably placing her hands on her stomach. “I’m sorry Anvaere, I didn’t know—

“It’s fine,” the woman interrupted her, sending a sympathetic look towards her, “I apologise, I just got concerned when I didn’t see her in her nursery.”

“I understand.” Moiraine smiled at her sister, gesture that she wholeheartedly returned.

“I can hardly blame you,” Anvaere sighed, tilting her head towards Guinevere, “I believe it was this little girl who pulled on some strings to get you to tell her stories, didn’t she?” She said, tickling the girl.

“I-just-wanted-to-hear-some-stories!” The girl said, in between giggles.

Moiraine lowered her gaze, softly smiling to herself. Wishing for something she long ago gave up, and could have no more. You shouldn’t have come here. She’s happy here. Anvaere can take so much better care of her.

“Well, it’s time for you to go to bed now, and no more escaping, alright?” Anvaere warned the toddler in her arms.

“Alright.” She conceded, her arms dropping in defeat.

“Now say thank you and goodnight to your aunt, and maybe she’ll tell you some more stories tomorrow.”

“Thank you Aunt Moiraine, goodnight Aunt Moiraine.” Guinevere said, waving a little hand in her direction.

“Goonight, Guinevere.”

The following night, Guinevere found her in her room once again. The little girl barged into her room, not bothering to knock, as she already felt comfortable enough in the presence of her aunt, and ran towards her bed, where Moiraine was busy reading a book.

“Can you tell me another story?” The little girl begged, her face barely reaching the height of the mattress. Her hair hung loose over her shoulders, and she was wearing a white nightgown with flower embroidery. Moiraine recognised the piece of clothing as one of her own she used to wear as a child.

Moiraine squinted her eyes at the girl. “Alright,” she eventually gave in, moving aside so that the toddler could jump into bed next to her. The two of them settled in, and so Moiraine started telling the story about Arthur Hawking and his fallen Empire. And just like the last time, Guinevere remained quiet, with her eyes wide as plates in astonishment, always asking Moiraine to keep on going whenever she tried calling it a night.

The days in Cairhien passed quickly, each one blending into the next. Moiraine and Lan stayed longer than intended, their presence justified by vague mentions of Tower business. But Moiraine knew the real reason she stayed: Guinevere.

Every evening, Guinevere would sneak into Moiraine’s room, her eyes bright with anticipation. The bond between them grew stronger with each story shared, each moment of wonder at the magic Moiraine could summon. Anvaere allowed such things silently, a mixture of understanding and concern in her eyes.

One of those nights Moiraine came home and went straight to her bedroom, skipping dinner, for the events of the day had drained all energy away from her.

She was on the brink of falling asleep, when she heard the door open, and little footsteps started approaching her bed. She opened her eyes and saw Guinevere carefully walking towards her, carrying a platter full of cheese, bread and ham with her hands. “Mama told me to bring this to you,” she said, as Moiraine sat up against her pillow. The little girl placed the platter over her lap, and then climbed up the bed to sit next to her.

“Are you sick Aunt Moiraine?” She asked, placing a little hand over the woman’s arm. Moiraine’s heart fluttered at the action.

“Not sick, just tired.” She said, as she took a bite on a piece of cheese.

“Oh, I get that,” Guinevere said, nodding, “I get sooo tired sometimes.” She added, theatrically tilting her head to the side and letting her body fall into the mattress.

“You do?” Moiraine asked, amused at the girl’s cheekiness.

Guinevere nodded earnestly, her little face serious. “Mama says I’m a handful.”

Moiraine laughed softly. “I can see why she would say that.”

The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Moiraine nibbling on the food Guinevere had brought, the little girl watching her with wide, curious eyes.

“Do you want to hear another story?” Moiraine asked, breaking the silence.

Guinevere’s face lit up. “Yes, please!”

Moiraine began telling her about the adventures of the ancient Aes Sedai and their battles against the Shadow. Guinevere listened with fascinated attention, occasionally gasping or giggling at the exciting parts. As the story unfolded, Moiraine felt a warmth spreading through her, a sense of connection and joy she hadn’t felt in a long time. She felt a surge of guilt, knowing Siuan wasn’t there to share such moments with them.

It was well past Guinevere’s bedtime when Anvaere found them. She stood at the doorway, watching the scene with a mix of emotions. She knew no one else who could control her emotions like her older sister, but would they falter at the girl’s presence? “Winnie, it’s time for bed,” she said softly.

Guinevere pouted but didn’t argue. She slid off the bed and ran to her mother, giving her a hug. “Goodnight, Aunt Moiraine,” she said, waving as Anvaere picked her up.

“Goodnight, Guinevere,” Moiraine replied, feeling a pang of sadness as the door closed behind them.

She lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind a whirl of thoughts and emotions. Coming back to Cairhien had opened old wounds but also brought unexpected joy. It is so easy. She is so easy, Siuan would be great with her, and Lan adores her. Maybe it could work out.

The following afternoon, Moiraine found herself pacing around her room, thinking about Guinevere, about the time they’d spent together, how seemlessly she blended into her life, when she heard yelling in the hallway.

“I don’t want to get a bath!” A little voice shouted.

“Winnie, you don’t get to choose—

“But I want Aunt Moiraine to tell me—

“GUINEVERE!” Anvaere finally raised her voice, as Moiraine made her way into the corridor, to find her sister, fuming, with both her hands on her hips, and feet away from her, a little girl, hair wild as if she had been riding, her dress stained with mud. “This is not a request, you are getting a bath right now before bed.”

Guinevere crossed her arms, her lower lip jutting out in a stubborn pout. “But I want Aunt Moiraine to tell me a story first,” she insisted.

Anvaere sighed, her frustration melting into a look of resignation. “Moiraine, could you...?”

Moiraine smiled gently. “Of course.” She crouched down to Guinevere’s level, her eyes soft and understanding. “How about this: you take your bath now, and when you’re all clean and ready for bed, I’ll tell you the best story you’ve ever heard. Deal?”

Guinevere’s eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly. “Deal!”

“Go on, then,” Moiraine encouraged, giving her a gentle nudge towards the bath. Guinevere scampered off, Anvaere watching her go with a grateful smile.

“Thank you,” Anvaere said quietly, her eyes meeting Moiraine’s.

Moiraine simply nodded, her heart aching with a swirl of emotions she couldn’t quite name. Easy.

Later that night, Guinevere, freshly bathed and in her nightgown, bounded into Moiraine’s room, her eyes wide with anticipation. She climbed into bed beside her aunt, who took her by the arms and settled her onto her lap, the little girl’s back resting against Moiraine’s legs.

“Alright, Aunt Moiraine, I’m ready,” she declared.

Moiraine smiled, grabbing the little girl’s hands. “Once upon a time, in a land far to the north...” she began, weaving a tale of adventure and magic, her voice soothing and melodic.

As she spoke, she felt the weight of the world lift off her shoulders, if only for a little while. She glanced down at Guinevere, whose eyes were slowly drooping, her breathing becoming steady and even.

By the time Moiraine finished the story, Guinevere was fast asleep against her chest, her small hand clutching Moiraine’s robe. She softly caressed the little girl’s cheek, rosy and plump. It feels so right. At the moment Moiraine fell asleep, she’d already made her choice.

The Aes Sedai woke up at the crack of dawn, before anyone else in the household, got up from the bed in a gentle manner so as to not wake Guinevere up, and started packing her bags. She then ran towards the little girl’s nursery, and picked up some clothes for her. That’ll be enough, we can always get more.

She started to feel her heart flicker as she headed towards the barn to get her horse ready, a mix of emotions palpable on her skin. Happy, guilty, scared, unsure, but determined. So very determined. She blocked her connection to Lan, just in case such torrent of sentiments woke the warder up, and bolted towards her room once again. She picked up the little girl on her arms, softly, avoiding to wake her up, rolled her in a blanket, and started to make her way out of the house.

She skipped through the stairs with ease, and was about to reach the lower entrance, when someone swiftly intercepted her, blocking her way to the door. Torvin.

Moiraine went stiff, reaching for the One Power, an electrical buzz surrounding her body, ready for confrontation if needed, but the older man didn’t appear to be angry at her, rather he wore a sad and sympathetic look on his face. He was aware of her intentions.

Curse you, Lan.

“What are you doing, Moiraine?” The old man asked, softly, his voice barely a whisper.

“Taking my daughter with me, Torvin.” She muttered, her lip quivering.

“You know this isn’t the way,” Torvin said gently. “Anvaere will be devastated. And Guinevere...she needs stability, a home. She needs her family.”

“She is my family,” Moiraine shot back, her voice breaking. “I’ve given up so much already. I can’t leave her behind again. I won’t.”

Torvin took a step closer, clasping his hands together in a gentle motion. “What has changed, then? Four years ago, you came home with a whimpering baby in your arms, beggings us to take her and raise her as our own, because your life as Aes Sedai wasn’t compatible with a baby’s. Because of a mission sensitive you couldn’t even share with us. What’s different now?”

Moiraine stood before Torvin, clutching Guinevere protectively, her heart pounding in her chest, as her breathing became uneven. The older man sighed, his expression a mix of understanding and sorrow. “If this is what you’ve chosen, then I guess I can’t convince you otherwise. She is yours, as you say. But taking her now, in the middle of the night… that’s not the answer.”

She hesitated for a moment, before heading towards the door, brushing past the man. “Well, as you said, it is my choice, and I’m taking her now, whether you like it or—

“No.” A voice came from behind. She turned around, and found Anvaere and Lan rushing towards them from across the hall. “You are not taking her, Moiraine. She’s safe, she’s happy here.” Her sister explained, as she tried to take the child away from her hands.

Moiraine tightened her grip on the girl, unintentionally causing her to wake up, the toddler slowly opening her eyes. “No, you don’t understand, I can manage now—

“Can you, really?” Anvaere asked, with a sorrowful look on her face, yet still determined to get the toddler into her arms.

“Yes,” she whimpered, preventing tears from falling into her cheeks, “we can take her with us, she can come with us, she’d love all the travelling, I know—

Moiraine was interrupted by the little girl’s soft sniffles, frightened at being awakened in the middle of the night by her mother and aunt fighting, both pulling on her as if she were a prize. “Mama?” Guinevere cried, turning towards Anvaere, extending her arms towards her.

Moiraine heart shattered at that, however, she remained reluctant to let her go, or that was until someone laid a hand over her shoulder, in a gentle motion. She glanced to her side. Lan. “Come on, Moiraine.” He whispered, locking eyes with her. We shouldn’t have come. That was all it took.

She loosened her grip on Guinevere, allowing Anvaere to gently take the child from her arms. The little girl clung to her mother, burying her face in Anvaere’s shoulder, her small frame trembling with confusion and fear.

“Shh, it’s alright, Winnie. Everything’s alright,” Anvaere soothed, stroking Guinevere’s hair and whispering comforting words, as she left the room.

Moiraine watched as Anvaere carried Guinevere away, her heart breaking into pieces. The child's soft cries echoed down the hall, each one a dagger to Moiraine's stomach. Lan's hand remained on her shoulder, grounding her, but it did little to ease the pain.

"You know she can’t come with us, Moiraine," Lan said gently, his voice low and filled with understanding, “we have a mission, and we cannot fit Guinevere into it, we’d only be hurting her.”

“I-I know,” she acknowledged, cheeks burning in a burgundy shade, “I don’t know what came over me.” She added, crossing her arms over her chest, shame covering every other emotion. She felt so embarrassed. Abducting a child, in the middle of the night, removing her from the warmth and safety of her bed. Not being able to get a grip on her emotions. Losing focus on what really mattered. Betraying her and Siuan’s purpose. Find the Dragon Reborn. It was so unlike her.

Torvin smiled at her in a kind-hearted manner, as he gently rubbed the woman’s arm. “She is safe here, Moiraine. And so, so loved. She’ll be alright. And know that we will always welcome you in, should you feel the need to visit her.” Moiraine nodded, her eyes filled with unshed tears. They remained in silence, and the house seemed to hold its breath, the weight of the moment pressing down on them all.

It was Anvaere, returning alone to the room, after putting Guinevere to bed, who broke the silence. “I think you should go, Moiraine.” She said, a sober expression on her face, as she intertwined her arm with Torvin’s.

Moiraine stared at her sister, realisation sinking on her like an anchor. I can’t ever see her again. The mission is too important. “I think so too.”

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

“Guinevere, I—

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

She abruptly drew her hand away, frightened by what she was about to do. Two minutes in the girl’s presence and she was already losing all caution. But this time she needed to be in the city. And she suspected she’d need her sister’s help as well, reluctant as she was to accept that.

She hurried to follow Jhonas into the drawing room, Guinevere’s steady footsteps just behind her, and went almost still, feeling the air get caught up in her throat once again at the sight of her sister. She studied her hair, she was most probably wearing a wig, in an attempt to hide the grey beneath it; she studied the wrinkles around her eyes, tired and weary; she studied the curve of her mouth, surrounded by lines. She looked so much older, not only than before, but so much older than her as well. Her little sister, worn out by time. It was a tragic vision, a deadly punch in the gut.

“You look well, little sister.” She somehow managed to say, fighting back tears.

“As you do.” She said, a pleasing smile on her face, before tilting her gaze towards someone behind her. “Winnie, you probably don’t remember her, this is your Aunt Moiraine.”

“We’ve already introduced ourselves.” Moiraine said, not bothering to glance backwards.

“I see.” Anvaere replied, the slightest glimmer of rage crossing her eyes. She then extended her arms, gesturing for the girl to come closer to her. “Winnie dearest, weren’t you heading out?” She asked her, grabbing both her hands.

“I-I was. I should be going, really.” Guinevere stuttered.

“Then get on with it, darling,” she said, kissing her forehead, “and don’t be too late.”

“I won’t.” The young girl replied. Anvaere tightened her grip on her hand. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d caused her mother to panic after not returning home before nightfall. “I promise. I’ll be going then. Goodbye Aunt Moiraine.”

“I’ll see you later, Guinevere.”

Anvaere waited until the girl was gone, until she shifted her gaze towards her sister again. “Please, sit,” she gestured towards the chair by her side, “we didn’t know—

“I won’t trouble you for tea.” Moiraine rushed to say. “I have stabled my horse, and I would use my old room, if it’s open. But I want to keep a low profile here in the city.”

“Of course, we—

“Jhonas!” She exclaimed, turning towards the older man. “Bring up a Ghaeldanin red from the cellar?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“And I need a dress ordered from—

“It’s been a decade, Moiraine!” Anvaere yelled, exasperated by her lack of attention. “Sit!”

Moiraine turned towards her sister, who was trying to gain some composure after her outbreak. “Have some tea.” She asked her. And how much Moiraine wanted that, she couldn’t possibly put in into words. How’d she’d missed her little sister, her companionship, and their talks and gossip reunions. But she was on Cairhien for a mission, and one mission only. Train the Dragon Reborn. She was sure Rand was in the city, somewhere. And she had to find him.

“Perhaps lunch,” she said, and added, just before she left the room, “there’s someone I need to meet today.”

She did felt terrible, leaving her sister, who simply wanted to have tea with her, alone, after fifteen years of not seeing each other, but her duty towards Rand was too important.

She ran towards her childhood bedroom, and carefully put on some clothes. A blue dress with a lace, white turtleneck underneath, and of course the blue stone on her forehead, all with the purpose of avoiding people noticing what she was no more. She strolled around the room, reminiscing about her old self. Her book collection, her jewellery, her desk. Everything was exactly the same, covered in a thin layer of dust. Except for some things. Her music box was missing, a handful of books as well. Why would Anvaere touch such things? She closed her eyes as to clear her head, realising she was spending time she did not have, and rushed out of the door.

She picked up the wine Jhonas had left for her, and hurried out the house, before anyone saw her.

Moiraine came back home later than she’d expected, a defeated look on her face. She did not find Rand. She did not find anyone capable of saying where he was. Where he had been, yes, at the Sanitarium, but for some reason he missed work that day. She’d found out the inn he had been staying, but was there no more, since the place had apparently burned out. And Moiraine suspected Rand’d had something to do with it. Which meant she was too late. It was ridiculous to assume he would get a hold of his power in under six months, unassisted as well. She had been too late in searching for him. She’d failed. All because she’d been too focused moping about her, about losing her connection to the One Power. So egoistic. She, her problems, all of that was too unimportant in comparison to what the Wheel had prepared for Rand. She couldn’t let anything else drift her away from her mission, even when she felt she was asphixiating, fighting death every single day since she was cut out from the One Power. But she didn’t allow herself to keep on dwelling on such matters.

She let out a breath as she walked into the house, peeking through the door to her sister’s chambers, dancing shadows indicating a warm fire was burning in the fireplace. She knew she ought to go to her. She wanted to. But she couldn’t deal with her at that moment. Focus.

Moiraine walked away, towards her room, and was surprised to see Anvaere already there, waiting for her, sitting on an armchair beside the chimney. “You’ll pardon the intrusion, but I didn’t want to miss you. Please, sit.”

“Anvaere,” she sighed, putting a hand on her forehead, “I’ve had a long day. I…

“This is not what a woman should have to do to talk to the sister she spent half her life idolising.” Her little sister complained, yet somehow Moiraine felt as if she were being scolded.

“If you want me to apologise for leaving,” she replied, shaking her head, “I won’t. An Aes Sedai cannot lie.” Could she? Can I claim myself an Aes Sedai any longer?

“No, no, of course not.” Anvaere was quick to say, as Moiraine paced around the room. “In truth, you did nothing I wouldn’t have, if I could’ve channelled. Light knows I tried, on nights when our family’s future looked dim. After Uncle ruined us. After you left.” She said, with a hint of resentment on her voice. “But Father always held out hope that one day you’d come back and fix it all. You were his shining star. Shooting star, as it turned out, never to return once you left our sky. ”

“I…” Moiraine was as out of breath as she was out of words. It’s all too much. Her father, her sister, Rand, Guinevere. Siuan. She’d failed so many people. A lifetime wouldn’t be able to make up for all she’d done to them. “I would’ve come back if I could…” she murmured, taking a seat in front of her.

“Spare me the false penitence.” Anvaere brushed her off. “You had your work, and I had mine. Less important, certainly, but no less demanding. Unless the Tower also taught you how to smile after someone spits in your eye? And I endured all of it with a little boy and a newborn girl to look after. But I got on with my work, just as you did with yours. Now my son is going to marry the Queen, and my daughter is the youngest Aes Sedai in years, and nobody will ever spit on House Damodred again.”

Moiraine stared at her, sadness almost tangible on her eyes. “You’ve done well, little sister. Better than I would’ve done with the hand you were dealt.”

“Thank you, Moiraine.” Anvaere nodded, a smug grin on her face. “But somehow, finally, I don’t care what you think. I’m not here for your approval. I’m here because you will not endanger what I’ve worked all my life to build. You will not endanger Guinevere again.”

Moiraine stood up, anger building up on her chest. It infuriated her, the way they talked about Guinevere, about her daughter, around her, as if she were any less concerned for her safety than them. “Sister, I truly am not—

“This is not your house. This is not your city.” She is no longer your daughter. “And I’m not your little sister anymore. All the eyes and ears you had here… they’re mine now. The head of the sanitarium, Celestin. The guard you hailed at the gate, Sandair. If you want to know where that redheaded boy in the inn went… you’re going to have to ask me very nicely, over tea.” Anvaere proclaimed, her lips turning into an arrogant smile, as she handed her a cup of tea, leaving Moiraine with no other choice than to accept it.

Lanfear. It had to be her, it all fitted together. Rand was in danger, the fate of the world was in peril. Moiraine waited until Anvaere left, before she hurried into some more comfortable clothes: a loose pair of pants and a chape would do. She searched for a sword on a coffin she kept in her chambers, and placed it on her back, attached with a leather string. She opened the door to her room in a hurry, and almost collided into Guinevere, who was standing just there, with a box full of items on her arms, about to knock on the door. Moiraine found it hard not to gasp. She knew it’d be unavoidable, running into the girl, and she was prepared for it, as she had years of practing forcing her emotions confined, but nonetheless she found herself in stupor, each time she saw her. It feels like looking into a mirror.

“Oh, Aunt Moiraine,” she muttered, equally shocked, grasping on the box about to fall out of her arms, “I just wanted you to give you these—

“I don’t have time, Guinevere.” She said, walking past her, not sparing her a second glance. It wasn’t easy, turning her down like that, but it was for the best.

“Where are you going so late in the night?” The girl asked, curiosity evident in her voice, as she steadily followed her steps.

“This doesn’t concern you.” Moiraine snapped at her, rather harshly, but it didn’t seem to upset the girl, who was too busy examing her thoroughly.

“And with a sword on your back…” Guinevere muttered, suddenly going quiet, as realisation fell upon her. “You can’t touch the One Power.” She whispered. “You’ve been stilled.”

Moiraine stopped abruptly on her tracks, and turned around, holding back tears, pursing her lips into a dangerously fine line. She stared at her, an intense rush of anger reaching towards the girl, as she silently begged her not to comment on it anymore.

“Then take me with you.” Guinevere promptly said. “Whatever it is you have to do, whoever you need to fight, especially if you need a sword with you… take me.”

Moiraine fell silent, her mind racing. It did make sense, to have someone who could actually touch the Source go with her. Taking Guinevere with her, even if she were putting the girl in terrible danger, would be the cautious thing to do. The prudent, so evidently obvious and sensible thing to do… if finding Rand was indeed what mattered to her the most in the world.

“No.” She finally snarled, getting on with her path. And yet Guinevere followed. Moiraine was reminded of something Siuan had told her a few years ago, shortly after Guinevere had joined the Tower. She’s as stubborn as her mother.

“But Aunt Moiraine, you’ll need—

“I don’t need anything from you.” Moiraine said, forcing cruelty into her voice. “I can manage on my own, Guinevere.”

The girl stared back at her, dejection filling her eyes, as years of resentment and built up anger stiffened her body, yet keeping a straight face. “Fine.” She shrugged her shoulders, voice laced with poison. “Go. I don’t care.”

Moiraine turned around, as she couldn’t stand one more second of all the loathing directed her way, and left. I’m so sorry I’ve failed you too.

********

Chapter 3 here!

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