Work Text:
“Lan?”
“Hmm?”
“What do you make of this?”
He walked over to the bedside table and picked up a bright, tissue-wrapped cylinder. It made a crinkling sound as he twirled it between his fingertips, small objects rattling within.
“A celebration cracker?” He peered at it more closely. “Sweets and trinkets for children.”
“In Cairhien, they are called bangs of expectation.” She crossed the room and stopped to look out the window.
Rain pounded against the drafty pane, a staccato of tiny pin pricks threatening to invade their sanctuary. She shivered and drew the serviceable wool shawl closer around her shoulders before turning to face him.
“You do not feel as if you have high expectations.” Lan replaced the cracker on the table, frowning.
“What does an Aes Sedai deserve, in your estimation?”
“After today?” He tossed another log onto the fire and retrieved their tea set.
Her body drew up, suddenly rejecting the idea of partaking in their nightly cup. She pulled on the remaining shreds of self-control, forcing her posture to relax. This was for Lan. He needed the power of the ritual. Every step, every movement practiced to perfection. He would likely ask if she wanted one lump of sugar or two, and she would answer. Would make herself answer.
“I saved an innocent man from the gallows. It is enough.”
She watched his hands dance over the tea box, measuring a precise pinch and placing it inside the warmed kettle. He added a pinch of fragrant herbs next, having crushed them between his palms.
“They nominated you to take his place.”
She knelt beside the fire and extended one hand forward, feeling no warmth from the flames.
“They lacked the means of making it a reality.”
“This time.”
She did not reply.
He poured two cups of tea, black for himself and light for her, diluted by a precise amount of heated milk. “One lump or two?”
She made herself smile, hoping the bond did not give too much away. “One please.”
He produced a pair of tiny sugar tongs and dropped a small lump into her cup. It bobbed once before sinking to the bottom. There was comfort in rituals. Safety.
Mechanically, she wrapped her fingers around the small pewter cup and lifted it to her lips, ignoring the way the liquid felt in her mouth, tasting of ash.
“They customized each cracker at the Sun Court.”
He poured himself another cup and joined her in front of the fireplace.
“A spinster may expect to find a wedding ring.” She forced her eyes to relax, flames dissolving into shapeless motes of light.
“That sounds humorous.”
She glanced at him, feeling the bond saturate with something akin to irony.
“To remind her of the failure to secure a husband. And a future.”
He turned his whole body to face her, his eyes narrowed.
“What did you find?”
She cast her mind back, feeling her heart speed up at the memory, feeling his guilt for asking overlaid with concern. Shoved it all away. Made herself look into his eyes.
“Kindling.”
The room was silent, save for the faint crackling of the logs.
“Moiraine.” He reached for her hand and squeezed.
She took another sip of her lukewarm tea. “Sometimes I wonder.”
He moved as if to silence her, but she had already turned away.