Work Text:
Prompt: “you had a lot of nightmares.”
...
Breathing hard Rand shot up from his bed wild blue grey eyes searched his room. His heart raced in his chest from the memories. Rand wanted to run from his tent and disappear into the night. It would be easier than facing the reality of what he had done.
Rand rolled over and off the bed. The jarring sensation of hurting the ground caused the wound in his side to twinge in pain. He let out a soft cry before biting it back. No use in waking up the entire camp for his stupidity. And it was his stupidity that caused the wound. He had tried to take Ishamael on by himself a second time.
Unlike the first time, the Forsaken had been ready for him. Nearly killed him in the battle and was only driven back by sheer luck. It reminded Rand that he was barely coming into his powers and they had Millennia on him.
Rand was so tired. He didn't want to fight anymore. What had fighting gotten him anyways? A mortal wound. And his mind on the brink of insanity.
He wasn't stupid. He saw the way the others looked at him. The way they walked on egg shells. Everyone knew what Lews Therin had done when he lost his mind. They wondered what Rand would do.
Suddenly a pair of shoes were directly in front of his vision and Rand felt a pang of fear. Not again. He wouldn't survive the fight if Ishamael decided to attack him. He was so tired.
“You had a lot of nightmares,” came the man's dark tone that held a command in it.
Rand refused to look up. He kept his gaze on the floor of the tent and his hands. Maybe if he ignored him for long enough Ishamael would leave him be. By the Light he was weak.
To his surprise the man bent down in front of him. A warm hand found its way under his chin and forced Rand to look into the dark eyes of the Forsaken. Dark eyes not blazing with fire. Rand felt drawn into the gaze in a way he couldn't understand.
Ishamael was so close to him Rand could distinctly smell his scent. It was warm and inviting unlike all the other times they had crossed paths. Before the scent had been dark and warning like. What had changed?
"You are not weak, al'Thor," rumbled Ishamael deep in his chest, "Twice you have faced me in this life and twice you have come out on top. Few could attest to such a thing."
"I am weak," mumbled Rand unable to look away from the dark eyes, "I can't protect my friends much less face you. I am so tired."
The wound was proof of his weakness. Sure he lived but at what cost. His friends would be better off without him.
Ishamael said cocking his head to the side, "Are you done fighting me, al'Thor? If I gave you the chance to come with me would you?"
There was a pang in his chest. He felt drawn to Ishamael. The draw had always been there and he had been fighting it. Slowly he nodded and there was a flash of unknown emotion in Ishamael's eyes. Arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him close to the warm chest. His eyelids grew heavy and his shoulders slumped.
"Rest, al'Thor," rumbled the man, "I shall guard your dreams."