Chapter Text
The idiots, both of them, sought her out. Slinking around the kitchen Yillana smelled Nymph before she saw him; the armourer's son perpetually opposed bathing. Why she spent even a moment of the day with them was ever a mystery, but today, despite the odour and their earlier confrontation, she was happy for the company.
"And you're sure she's Aes Sedai?" Nymph asked for the fifth time, bouncing up and down, his legs crossed sitting on the small awning that covered chicken coops and the cook's prize geese.
"Yes, you dummy!" Gren answered, cuffing his friend upside the head, "Laina said so - five times ."
"Did you show her your tricks then?"
Nymph’s change in tune, just as repetitive, earned him another swat. "What do you think, wool head?" Gren said as he leaned in close, grabbing his shirt in imitation of their conversation hours earlier, only this time he wasn't the one manhandled.
"Lay off, Gren. I just wanted to make sure," Nymph whined, giving a pathetic swing in reply. "If she got in trouble, who else would we find to blame-”
The final swat closely resembled a punch, sending Nymph off the awning and scattering chickens left and right. Yillana rolled her eyes. Idiots, both of them
While one struggled to make his way back up top, the other slid closer, black fringe falling over his eyes. "Who else would tell us stories, Laina?" Gren finished very sincerely; she almost believed him. "That's what this lout meant to say, right?"
"Okay, fine," Nymph huffed, shaking the whole structure to land on her right. "Also, the lady being Aes Sedai and all would also explain the big man that's been wandering around making Pa all nervous. You know, the one I told you beat up three men at once in the practice yard without breaking a sweat?"
"You mean her Warder?" Yillana offered. "His name is Lan, and I read once that he’s the uncrowned king of Malkier."
Gren laughed, the boom of his newly minted baritone a startling reminder they were all growing up as it sent a goose running headlong into the wire fence. “Next you'll tell me I'm the Dragon Reborn!” he spit out, breathless.
Yillana scowled and slid farther up the roof crossing her arms under her breast just beginning to show under her clothes. Growing up indeed
"You two don't know the first thing about Malkier,'' she said, taking on her lecturer's tone often used when she told stories to entertain her pathetic audience under the stars. Neither Nymph or Gren could read or write more than their name, so every book she read, every adventure, history, even romance was recounted on the rooftop, multiple times until all hours barring other obligations, of which they had few and she had none.
"And you do-" Gren retorted, this time it was Nymph who delivered a smart rap over his friend's ears.
"Of course she does!" the armourer's boy said, adopting an air of self-importance. "Ever wonder why her Ma wears that funny dot in the middle of her head? That's where she's from."
Gren gave them a sheepish grin. "I always thought it was because she’s crazy."
He brought his head down quickly to avoid another hit as he scooted farther away from Yillana, but she slid down and caught his shirt, her nails digging into the flesh at the base of his neck.
"I can still cut out your tongue," Yillana hissed. "Do you want that?"
He gulped, though his posture spoke of defiance. "No."
"Good. Now Nymph," -he jumped as she turned, smiling. "Do you wanna hear the story of how Malkier fell?"
Nymph nodded eagerly, fear forgotten, always her most enthusiastic participant. "Already know most of it, Laina. I'll fill in the bits you miss."
"And you," Yillana plucked at Gren's sleeve. "Do you feel up for a story?"
The tall boy considered, his brow wrinkled under his black mop before nodding.
"Great," she said as she clapped her hands. "I’ll start at the beginning-"
"I want proof."
Nymph blinked, appearing even dimmer than usual in the moonlight as he looked up at Gren. "You want what, buddy?"
"He wants proof," Yillana replied with a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. "that I'm telling the truth."
Nymph nodded again.
"Is this a challenge?"
A large hand extended in the moonlight. "It’s whatever you want Laina, but I'll be damned if you've been lying to us. Sarron told me never to trust a witch, and I think he’s right.”
Pressing her lips together, Yillana held Gren's gaze until the blacksmith's apprentice looked away, but what she saw before those blue eyes dropped was enough to convince her he was dead serious. "Fine," she said, grasping his forearm as they shook on it. "What do you want me to steal?"
"Anything with the Golden Crane on it," Nymph piped up, scooting closer until his stench was overpowering. "It's the symbol of the royal house. He has to have a ring or something."
Gren rumbled in approval. "That'll do."
Yllana's expression soured. Nymph's sudden expertise was all too convenient. The boy could barely tell left from right, but he knew about the Golden Crane. Gren was another matter; since when did that weasel need proof? She'd once told him the Aiel had five arms and he'd believed her. There was a good chance she was again the scapegoat to satisfy their curiosity, but she could never turn down a challenge, and she was no witch.
"Is that it?" she said, pushing herself farther up the roof she surveyed the two of them.
Gren, tall and lanky, his arms lean and corded with muscle, well into the second year of his apprenticeship, at least fourteen by now, shook his head. "Just don't get caught."
In sharp contrast Nymph, awkward and doughy, who looked closer to ten than his true thirteen years, gave a vigorous shake no that incorporated his whole body.
"Yes Laina, don't get caught. Who else would tell us stories?"
+++++
Getting into his room was easy enough. Barely larger than a closet, it sat steps away from the women's quarters, quick access to his Aes Sedai she assumed. If watching him these past three days had taught Yillana anything, it was that Warders took the safety of their sister very seriously. Wherever the little Blue went, so did he.
‘The shadow of death’ she'd deemed him. Lan moved like a cat, struck with the precision of a viper, and was very much aware he was followed. His ice-blue eyes caught her in a corner or across the practice yard more than once, and she had almost come face to face with him the second day, staking out of Moraine's room. Flattening herself against the wall, she hadn't dared blink until he passed, but if he'd seen her he’d paid her no mind. She was unimportant, a child, an annoyance, and for her purposes, she would have it no other way.
The first time she'd broken in Yillana watched him leave, then turned the corner heading down the stairs, not moving from her hiding spot until the ring of his boots on the polished stone could no longer be heard. A quick search of the room revealed nothing; it was empty save for the furniture, even the bed lay untouched. Either Lan was sharing someone else's, or he wasn't sleeping.
Today she felt optimistic. He spent some semblance of time in the closet, almost two hours before heading in the opposite direction up the stairs towards the private apartments, taking him right past her window. Huddled amongst the curtains, his shadow stopped halfway down the hall, but in front of which windowsill she could not tell though he moved on after a moment, pace more relaxed.
Letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, Yillana pushed aside heavy curtains, making a beeline for the small wooden door, so nondescript it practically disappeared into the wall. As ever the door was locked, a puzzlement that was but an excuse to try another of her tricks. Letting her mind go blank, Yillana placed a hand over the lock, feeling a familiar warmth radiate out through her fingers before giving the bolt a small push; nothing happened. She looked down the hall - deserted as it was, she didn't like being out in the open - so again, clearing her mind, she opened herself to the warmth, letting it settle in her fingertips and this time, an audible whoosh accompanied her push, the lock sprung free. With a last hasty glance down the carpeted hall, she crept into the closet of a room, closing the door behind her.
Unlike yesterday there was evidence of inhabitants. Saddlebags sat in the corner and a cloak of an indescribable colour hung on a peg, shifting the longer she stared and bringing on a headache. Blinking, Yillana shook her head then turned her attention to the rest of the room, checking every perch and shelf, the closet, bed, chair, the small stand with basin and pitcher - nothing. The saddlebags came next, and Yillana cracked her fingers nervously, biting the inside of her lip she smoothed her skirt praying she would find something.
Though she would never tell anyone, she was not sure who Lan was. She wanted him to be the king; it would make an amazing story, and Light knew she was ever on the lookout for those. It was what kept Nymph and Gren coming back and without them, she had no one who wasn't her mother or Merlin. Sure there were other children in the fortress, but their parents had seen more than their fair share of Elise's fits, heard her raving at night, and watched Yillana hold her mother down as she screamed. No parent wanted their child exposed to those traumas, and around Yillana the threat was constant.
Fighting down a sniffle and then a yawn, she reached for the saddlebags, which sat full. Smelling faintly of horse they held nothing of interest save for a few marks, all from Tar Valon, a change of clothes, a leather cord, and a small whetstone. The other pouch was just as dull until she reached the bottom and - Yillana's eyes went wide - a ring. Large enough to fit on two of her fingers, maybe more, it depicted the Golden Crane, wings extended flying above a lance and crown. Heavy in her hand, Yillana turned it over and over, running her nail across the engraving. Yes , she thought. This will make quite the story indeed
Gren would eat his words, Nymph would bounce with such excitement, and both would never call her a liar again. Tossing her prize, a smile across her face, she repacked, careful to replace all as she'd found in its proper place. The Warder would surely check his things when he came back; it's what she would do and discovering the ring gone he would search for it, but by then she would be in the kitchen, well out of sight.
So absorbed in her success, Yillana didn't hear the creak of the hinges or the click of the lock or even the soft pad of feet making their quiet way up behind her. She did hear the slight rustle of fabric and felt the hand, large and calloused, grab her shoulder, rough fingers firm on her skin meaning to turn her around, only she beat him to it. Whipping around with a yelp Yillana clutched the ring to her chest, frantically backing up on elbows as the man she so hoped to avoid stared down at her.
Yillana expected a harsh word, the specific order for her to leave immediately – she had just been caught pilfering a precious heirloom - but the King of Malkier did no such thing. A faint change of expression accompanying his low chuckle, Lan regarded her with a mixture of anger and surprise. "I didn't take you for a thief," he said, voice gravel in her ears.
Closing her momentarily gaping mouth she backed up even further, cracking her head against the wood panelling and bit the inside of her lip, unblinking eyes darting from his face to the door half-closed- not entirely hopeless, though close enough. Silently cursing Nymph and Gren - she prayed they both died painfully - Yillana met Lan’s stare.
"I'm not a thief!"
His smile left instantly, leaving only stone. "A liar then?" he said, tone accusing as he took a step forward stopping himself as she flinched probably sheet white, despite her familiarity with the situation. They were always caught, but this was her first time facing it alone, and Yillana couldn't help but feel like a hare, cornered in a burrow of its making.
What did a rabbit do when trapped? The natural history she'd picked through said precious little, but in a general sense, they would make a run for it, bolt between the feet of whatever stood in their path and pray a stray limb, flailing as they ran, was not caught to pull them to their death. She was no hare and at well over eight spans with a reach to match, Lan held the upper hand. Though-
The idea was foolish, but if she could almost make Gren's hammer fly then the small chair in the corner couldn't be much harder. Giving his question no answer, Yillana clutched the ring to her chest, attempting a clear mind. As if sensing her desperation, the warmth appeared with little effort and as she sat up, she turned away from Lan to watch the chair. With a small lift of her hand, she made it fly.
No fool and no stranger to tricks of this kind, he immediately understood her intentions and with a genuinely terrifying face lunged out, making a grab for her moving arm, only the chair hit him first. Lighter than a hammer, it flew at a speed she did not expect, making a shallow arc that caught the Warder on the upper part of his body, the hardwood cracking as it collided with his skull. Lan fell, if more from the surprise of the impact than the weight of it, toppling to the floor, catching himself before his head made an impact with the stone.
Muffling a scream at what she'd just done and fighting sudden tiredness that threatened to see her on the floor, Yillana found her leaden feet in a desperate rush making for the partially open door, hand outstretched to the knob.
Then, just as the rabbit feared, a stray limb was caught as a hand closed around her ankle and she fell to the floor. The impact was small, but the fatigue grew by the moment and she realized, frustrating as it may be, there was no escape yet again. Yillana felt her body relax, the warmth leaving for the cold of the floor and with that last sensation, she drifted off into unconsciousness.