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It had merely been supposed to be an adventure. That had been Moiraine’s reasoning, but she had never really expected to be faced with such an emergency. Liandrin, a woman she both knew and loved, had been desperately hurt, left wounded and refusing aide from anyone.
Moiraine had turned, slowly, to her older sisters, one refusing to aide but Anvaere, eldest and wisest, accepts she needs true help. Seeing Liandrin wounded, the woman’s eyes sheltered under a masking bandage, she knows what she must do.
Moiraine, she explains, must leave, they must be alone together. Soft fingers unwind brutal bandaging, coaxing gentle power to her hands even where Moiraine supposes she never learnt. She would never admit it, of course, but she had held a little ability to call on the One Power as a healing force since she was a child.
Liandrin stiffens under her touch, wounds heal and her eyes sting afresh but Anvaere never once moves, coaxing still more gentle healing from the Power, seeking only to ease the pain behind once wounded eyes. Her voice soft.
“Oh dear one…”
A confession? Liandrin wonders, unsure what to believe.
“You were always the better of my sister, even if she would never know it…”
Untrue, Liandrin thinks, even as she leans into Anvaere’s touch.
“If you only believed it.”
She never will, but she’s content here, treasured at last.