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Moiraine reaches up to pick a peach off of a low hanging branch and then carelessly takes a bite. The fuzz irritates the corners of her mouth and the skin there reddens almost immediately before fading away just as quickly. It takes every ounce of restraint for Siuan to keep her hands where they are.
They’re sitting side by side on a bench in the gardens, watching the hummingbirds flit between hyacinths and marigolds. Siuan had been tasked by a sister to pick a basket of blueberries and return before sunset. The task was daunting at first, but Moiraine had followed her into the gardens to help. Between them, it had taken almost no time to fill the basket to the brim. Instead of returning when the task was done, they’d chosen to make better use of their time in the late afternoon sun.
That sun is almost gone now and its fading glow lit the gardens almost golden. It’s beautiful, this place. Siuan would be fixated on the flowers like a hummingbird if it were not for her companion.
“I take it you’re ready for supper?” Siuan asks, arching an eyebrow and tilting her head towards the peach in Moiraine’s right hand.
Moiraine huffs, flicking her wrist in a repetitive downward motion in an attempt to shake off the peach juice now dripping from her fingers. When she’s satisfied, she holds the peach up, not quite between them, but the offer is clear.
“Closer,” Siuan says.
“It would get on your dress.”
“No one would notice.”
Moiraine only looks at her, her eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly. Her hand stays over the patch of grass in front of her.
Siuan relents. She braces herself on Moraine’s knee and leans in. Juice bursts from the fruit almost as soon as she bites down and in her haste to withdraw from it, her cheek brushes against Moiraine’s juice-soaked thumb. She comes away with her cheek dripping orange. Moiraine laughs and reaches up with her other hand to wipe it away at the same time that Siuan leans back to settle in her seat again.
The result is the two of them almost nose to nose, facing each other. Moiraine’s hand is still by Siuan’s cheek. So close that Siuan can feel the whisper of Moiraine’s knuckles against her cheekbone, the slight metallic chill from the ring on Moiraine’s third finger. She watches, enthralled, as the last rays of the sun dance in Moiraine’s eyes. It would be easy now for her to close the gap between them. Would Moiraine taste like the peach they’ve eaten, ripe with promise of the endless summer days to come? Or would she taste like something else entirely?
Easy, if Siuan wasn’t frozen in place, her body strung as tightly as a fishing line, watching Moiraine’s eyelashes flutter against the tops of her cheekbones. Just above the light dusting of freckles that appear whenever Moiraine spends any time in the sun.
It’s only the soft thud of the peach hitting the grass that shakes her out of her trance. Siuan jerks away suddenly, turning to face forward once more. Moiraine’s hand that had been holding it is suspended in the air like she was about to reach for something.
Siuan clears her throat and stands, hoping the action does not look as graceless as it feels. When she turns around, Moiraine is still seated, hands held out over the grass in front of her to avoid staining her dress, the peach in the grass between her feet.
“We should get back,” Siuan says, leaning down to grab the basket of blueberries that had been on the bench beside her. She looks at Moiraine, who is looking at a bird flying in the distance, looking at the Tower, looking at the blueberries in the basket. Looking anywhere but at Siuan.
“Alright,” Moiraine agrees, standing and gesturing for her to go ahead. Siuan does.
It’s only when she is safely tucked into bed later that she lets herself turn the moment over and over again in her head. What would it have meant, if Moiraine had dropped the peach to reach for her? What would it have meant, if Siuan had wanted her to?
“I have something for you,” Siuan says, walking up to where Moiraine is sitting on a rock like it’s a throne.
They’re on the banks of the Erinin, having snuck out for the day. It’s midsummer now and the laziness that comes with the heat and the haze have well and truly set in at the Tower. It’s their second free day of the week. Siuan spent the first blissfully asleep until noon.
“It better not be a frog, Siuan Sanche.”
Siuan laughs and sits down beside Moiraine, hands still behind her back, “How did you know?”
Moiraine looks at her like she’s grown another head.
“You act like I didn’t just watch you try to catch one for the past half an hour.”
Siuan laughs again and this time Moiraine joins in with a chuckle of her own.
“Alright,” Moiraine says, holding her hand out palm up. “Let’s have it.”
Siuan carefully moves the frog from her cupped hand onto Moiraine’s. It’s one she saw often as a child in Tear, striped different shades of green with big black eyes. Moiraine hums appreciatively.
“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Siuan prompts as the frog pushes against Moiraine’s palm and hops away. “Ah, well, I can catch you another one to look at later.”
Moiraine smiles a brilliant smile, “Thank you, Siuan.”
Under the bright afternoon sun, the image of Moiraine blurs at the edges like a reflection in the water. If they were not touching shoulder to shoulder, Siuan would have thought her a daydream.
“You’re welcome,” she says, smiling back.
It had been awkward at first, sitting this close after the moment in the garden. It felt like they’d crossed a line there that they could never uncross. Looking at Moiraine now, Siuan wonders if Moiraine thinks about it as much as she does. She doubts it, seeing as she thinks about it almost every passing moment, the puzzle of it all eternally fresh in her mind. Did the moment in the garden mean that Moiraine wants this as much as she does? And what would happen, if she did?
Moiraine looks over at her, then turns away quickly when she sees that Siuan's looking back at her.
“You can look at me, you know,” Siuan says, half-joking. “I promise your eyes won’t burn up at the sight.”
Moiraine exhales sharply through her nose, “That’s not exactly what I’m worried about.”
Still, she adjusts and Siuan mirrors her so that they’re facing each other. Moiraine’s hands are knotted together, her knuckles white.
She is quiet, too quiet. Even her face is blank. Siuan raises an eyebrow, trying to get a reaction. The lack of one makes her realize that Moiraine is steadfastly staring past her down the riverbank.
“Moiraine,” she says softly, heart beating out of her chest.
Moiraine closes her eyes. When she opens them, she’s looking right at Siuan and Siuan knows without a doubt that Moiraine wants this too.
It’s Moiraine’s idea, to go back out to the river on their last free day of the summer. They leave early and ride west so that they can see the sun rise on Tar Valon.
The part of the riverbank Moiraine chooses is secluded, cut off from the rest of the bank by long grass that sways even in the morning stillness. Downriver, Siuan can see the fishing boats. The tide is low, the water stretched taut at the horizon, as if awaiting the sun’s arrival.
Siuan hikes up her dress and walks barefoot into the sand. She lets her toes dig in as she does, delighting in the familiar feeling of the water from the riverbed coming back up and bubbling at her feet. She keeps walking, enjoying the feel of the dawn, fully aware of Moiraine watching her from up the riverbank. The problem, Siuan has found, with telling Moiraine she’s allowed to look is that she will do it with a fierceness and intensity that knocks Siuan off her feet every time.
Siuan turns around to see that Moiraine is looking now, her head ducked almost sheepishly, the beginnings of a smile on her lips. She realizes this is where she is always going to be - this riverbank, that rock, that garden - desperately wanting to reach for Moiraine in the same way that the low tide recedes from the shoreline to meet the rising sun on the horizon every morning.
There are no more questions, then.
Siuan retreats from the riverbed and walks back up the riverbank.