Chapter Text
Tar Valon Harbor hadn't seen such chaos in decades.
Booths stretched along the riverfront, filled with every kind of rod, reel, lure, and bucket known to humankind.
Children chased after bobbing balloon-trout, old fishermen argued over knot-tying techniques, and the scent of grilled perch filled the air.
But none of that mattered to Siuan Sanche, the current Chief Justice, and lifelong daughter of the river. She stood on tiptoe, scanning the impossible line that curled around the harbor like a coiled eel.
"Burn me," she muttered. "I should've left court early. I knew this'd be packed."
Behind her, Moiraine stood calmly, her hands gently resting on her noticeably pregnant belly, her expression the picture of serene patience.
Siuan craned her neck again.
"The Kingfisher Invitational happens once every ten bloody years, Moiraine! They've got silverline lures from Mayene, crab-tide reels from Ebou Dar, and-wait for it-the actual Captain Jeremy Wade is hosting a panel on precision casting. Jeremy! Wade!" She clutched her chest. "My soul is leaving my body."
Moiraine gave a noncommittal hum. "I'm sure your soul will survive a line."
"Easy for you to say," Siuan grumbled. "You're glowing. You could smile and they'd give you a front-row seat and a baby trout."
Just then, Siuan's eyes caught something-a miracle. An entrance gate.
Clearly marked in bold letters:
FOR SENIORS, HANDICAPPED, AND PREGNANT WOMEN ONLY.
And it was empty. Pristine. Untouched. Like a slice of the Creator's mercy itself.
She turned to Moiraine slowly. Her expression transformed into one of pure mischief— eyes alight, lips twitching with barely-suppressed glee.
One dimple deepened, then the other. She waggled her brows.
Waggled them.
Moiraine's eyes narrowed. "No."
Siuan clutched her hand, voice barely above a whisper.
"Please, my love. Just this once."
"You're a disgrace to the law, Chief Justice."
"And yet you still yearn for me," Siuan whispered, full of hope and sin.
There was a long pause.
Then Moiraine, sighing the sigh of a woman far too dignified for this nonsense and yet far too in love to say no, slipped her arm through Siuan's.
"Fine. But if anyone asks, you're my emotional support pike."
Siuan lit up. "The finest pike in the Erinin, Dearest."
They strolled to the fast lane. The attendant glanced at Moiraine, nodded politely, and waved them through.
Siuan barely held in a whoop, tries very hard not to fist-pump in triumph whispering,
"This is so worth getting disbarred."
"And yet l'm the one carrying your offspring through criminal activity," Moiraine muttered, deadpan.
By the time they reached the front, Siuan had already collected a limited-edition reel, a commemorative fishhook pin, and was passionately debating fish migration with an eighty-year-old from Saldaea.
Moiraine, seated with a lemonade, placed a protective hand on her belly and whispered to their unborn child,
"You'll learn early— your other mother is chaos. Beautiful, slippery chaos."
And from across the harbor, Siuan waved proudly, holding up a stuffed trout doll like it was the Dragon Banner itself.