Chapter Text
She didn’t look too bad, all things considered, Lan decided. His definition of “bad” had recently undergone another massive transformation, of course. Given Moiraine’s penchant for throwing herself at danger, he hoped he would not have to revise it again for at least an entire fortnight.
He leaned forward, stretching his hands toward the fire and rubbing them together. The rabbit Tomas snared would make a good supplement for their rations. Assuming Moiraine would touch it.
He watched as Verin scolded Adeleas. It was good to have these two along. Their good-natured bickering seemed to break the tension at just the right moments. He glanced over at Tomas, who winked at him in that knowing way Stepin had done, a lifetime ago. It almost felt right, sharing light and warmth like this. It was almost like the Warder’s fire, before Logain… Before his life had crumbled.
In the absence of Moiraine’s shielding, he’d suffered nightmares for months. Every night, without fail, had him running, fighting, trying to get to her. Every flaming night, he awoke panting, drenched in sweat. Alone.
In those moments between sleep and alertness, he’d grown convinced that there was nothing beyond this life. No Wheel, no rebirth, and no chance to see her again. Nothing but the cold void, which once held their bond. His life had been reduced to a sputtering flame, a balancing act on the edge of his sword. Nothing but pain, nightmares, and a vague memory of her face from his dreams, covered with a burial shroud.
Jaw clenched, he fought to keep his eyes on the fire. His instincts demanded Moiraine remain in his unwavering line of sight. The bone-deep conviction that something terrible was going to happen to her at any moment gnawed at him like a pack of starving wolves.
He had failed her. Again, just as with Logain. The Fades had nearly claimed them both. Not that his life was worth even a tenth of hers.
He glanced her way, noting the tension in the line of her shoulders. To anyone else, reclining as she was, it likely looked as though Moiraine was relaxing. He knew better. Loathe as she was to display anything less than perfect court posture, she must have been in terrible pain to allow her Sisters to see her like this. He felt the bile rise in his throat.
Adeleas was speaking, so he forced himself to listen.
“It was in the Borderlands, wasn’t it? Hmm? You probably saw him prancing across the desert on a black steed, sword out, hair whipping in the wind…”
Lan steeled himself, preparing to respond with a joke that would hopefully distract Adeleas long enough for someone to change the subject.
“It was outside Chachin,” Moiraine’s voice rang out. She had been silent for so long that he had not expected her to speak. “I’d been following him on the road all day.”
Lan turned to her, seeking eye contact. She gazed at the flames, her expression unreadable. Oh, how he wished he had the bond. To feel what she felt. To know.
“He kept throwing glances back at me. I thought he was a Darkfriend.”
They had never shared their tale with a single soul. It had remained private, guarded from prying eyes and wagging tongues, for twenty years. Suddenly, he felt the need to tell their story. To have their bond feel real again. Perhaps Moiraine felt the same way.
“I thought she was a mercenary.” He felt a smile forming on his lips, warmth flooding his chest. “Sent to kill me by my carneira.”
They had been so young. The entire incident, a comedy of errors. There were so many ways it could have gone wrong. He couldn't wait to be rid of her, that first week. Looking back, he would relive every torture she’d inflicted, without hesitation.
“Carneira?” Tomas appeared puzzled.
Light. Moiraine was looking at him. He felt his gut knot, watching her face light up. He could almost believe that warmth in her eyes shone from within, not a trick of the firelight.
“Oh, oh, in Malkier…” Verin joined in. Trust a Brown to turn any conversation into a lecture. Light bless.
He exhaled, permitting himself to relax a fraction.Verin’s voice faded into the background as he focused on Moiraine. She smiled at him with that little self-deprecating smile he loved. For a brief, dazzling moment, it felt as though everything was back to normal, the nightmare broken.
“I found him by a pond,” Moiraine said, one eyebrow raised. Though she was addressing Adeleas, her eyes were on him. “Meditating.”
Their long shared private joke— that he had no difficulty embracing ko’di , the state of concentration that allowed him to focus, to fight. But a true meditative state often eluded him.
She turned to face him, her hair a warm, golden halo around her shoulders, illuminated by the soft lantern light. “His face was still, but so much was raging beneath the surface.”
He found himself looking down, speaking in a clipped, irritated tone. “Meditation’s never come easy for me.” He wanted to touch her, to assure himself that she was alive. Instead, he rubbed his hands together.
Her expression remained serene, even as her tone turned light and teasing. “Especially not when you are planning on killing an Aes Sedai.”
Adeleas grinned as Verin and Tomas exchanged glances. Let them be amused. He and Moiraine were talking. They were having an actual conversation, with real words, and without one of them flying into rage.
“I didn’t believe you were an Aes Sedai,” he admitted.
His voice was steady, and he continued to rub his hands together, as if trying to keep warm. From the way she flexed her fingers, not quite clenching them into fists, they were surely feeling ice cold. The phantom echo of their bond, then. He wished she would avail herself of his warmth.
“I’d always heard that they were old…” He faced her, mirroring her raised brow. “Cold, and sour.”
The memory brought a smile, rewarded by her smile in turn. He felt as if he was being enveloped by the first warm rays of the sun after an endless, frozen winter.
“He’d left his sword on a rock,” Moiraine was still talking to Adeleas. “But the moment my hand touched the scabbard, he’d crossed the ten yards…”
It was more like two, but he wasn’t going to correct her. Not when she was doing so well.
“Grabbed me by the scruff of the neck…” Her smile widened, and her eyes sparkled in the firelight. Light, he’d missed her.
“And tossed me in the water.”
He remembered, as if it was yesterday. The audacity of the woman, her utter lack of fear. Not even a shadow of self-preservation. Even she could not explain what had possessed her to such recklessness. He’d not considered harming her until the moment she reached for his sword. Even then, he’d preserved her life—if not her dignity.
“You threw Moiraine Sedai into a pond?” Tomas emphasized the title, leaning forward. Tower-trained, Lan decided. The mere thought of acting against an Aes Sedai must have felt as wrong as… as not being bonded to one.
He focused on the flames. “It’s unwise to try separating a man from his sword.”
They all laughed. Except for Moiraine. She appeared to be drifting again, and there was nothing he could do to help her.
“Ah, and that’s when you knew, huh?” Adeleas asked.
Moiraine was gazing into the fire, lost in thought. Don’t stop, he pleaded silently. Don’t leave me. No sign she’d even heard the question.
“Any old Warder can protect you from a Trolloc,” Adeleas remarked after the silence had stretched for too long. She turned serious. “But the right one can protect you from yourself.”
Moiraine seemed to come back to the conversation, an eyebrow arched. He chanced a look, searching for a glimmer of light. Maybe, just maybe this trip to Tar Valon would provide the answer to make them whole again.