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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 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 · 7 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 · 8 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

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Chapter 1. Guinevere

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Guinevere Sedai—

“Please, just call me Gwen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cairhien, that’s right?”

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you need, Mother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The boy from Tár Valon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

“What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

Rand hesitated. “I respect Aes Sedai.”

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

“I’m just cautious of them.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t remember.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Guinevere, I—

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

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

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

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

Chapter 2 here!

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skyholly · 6 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 · 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 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!

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