Work Text:
“Ishamael, Lanfear… ” the names are spoken with a sinister melody, “the little stolen toy.”
There’s no escaping Tel'aran'rhiod. Liandrin, still witness of the forsaken’s game, remains trapped in her bed. From the shadow, she reveals herself. As she stands above her prey, she smiles with playful delight. Not a witness, a toy .
“It’s Moghedien’s turn to play now!” Giggling with excitement, she claps her hands together. “Pretty, pretty doll —”
“I am no doll.”
A rictus, and the melody again. “Ishamael’s, Lanfear’s, now mine!” She brings her face against Liandrin’s, and in a chuckle, whispers her vows: “Lanfear will be mad.”