Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Do you want me to cut your tongue out?!" Yillana screamed, drawing the attention of two maids who stopped their hurried pace right in her path, frank disapproval across their faces. Intent on her quarry - the lanky boy a pace and a half ahead - she paid them no mind, running full tilt, pushing between to send one off-balance, her own arms waving before toppling into her companion.

"You little-" Whatever they had to say, Yillana didn't hear; their high-pitched shrieks flew over her head as she closed in on Gren, black hair flying behind him, a laugh on his lips despite her threat.

"You'll never catch me, Laina!" he shouted back, not even out of breath. Yillana snarled; she hated when he did this. Nymph and Gren were always teasing her, goading her into their schemes, then sitting back as she took the fall. This time it was their failed attempt to sneak into the Blight - Gren's idea to begin with, and only when Sargent Algoran caught them did the boys pull out a truly spectacular sob story. Nymph, his ugly face contorted into a frightening mask, had clutched at the Sergeant's sleeve, begging him to take them home while Gren stoically comforted him, muttering of her deception. Whether Algoran believed them or not, the refusal to show any manner of remorse for their decision further cemented her punishment: A week confined to her room followed by a strapping she would sooner forget finally saw her free - until Gren crossed her path. Heading from the smithy to the armoury, a common route for the blacksmith's apprentice, he'd taken one look at her then turned tail and ran.

"Laina!" he called out again, beginning to weave between carts and pedestrians as they made their way out of the walled portion of the town.
"Shut up, you son of a whore!" she gasped, the constant change in direction slowing him down so she could almost reach his shirt, baggy and soot-covered from the forge; if only she could grab it and then pull the weasel to the ground!

Gren laughed at her response, dodging around a hay cart and then under a caravan, rolling on the wet cobble in an attempt to lose her, but just as he was regaining his feet the horse, impatient and spooked by the boy running out from beneath, lurched forward. A metal spoke, sharp and pronounced, caught the apprentice's ankle with a crack to send him sprawling on the street. Flying around the caravan, Yillana landed on Gren with a thud that knocked the air out of the boy's lungs, her knees on either side of his chest.

"Laina," he said, smirk never leaving as he struggled to get free, though it faded as she clamped her knees tight. "it was only a joke."

"That's what you said last time."

"Memory’s not what they should be, Laina. You know that." His wiggling continued so she sat back, slamming her fist into his injured ankle.

Arching under her in agony, his voice dropped considerably. "Bloody Light!" he hissed in pain.

Yillana snorted. "And it will hurt more Gren, but you wouldn't remember with your bad memory and all. So, let me… remind you."
She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him in close, setting a hard stare, just as she had seen Merlin do before threatening whoever saw fit to attempt to follow her mother into the women's quarters. Most of her words, the intimidating ones at least, belonged to Merlin, somehow always there as the mediator of many a flight regarding Elise.

Concentrating on a point hovering just above Gren's left eye, she pictured a flame letting her mind go blank though the rest of her body held rigidly. With a pop, then a whoosh of energy, life jumped into focus, a small ball of fire appearing reflecting off his iris.

The blacksmith's apprentice paled, shrinking away from the flame so close to his eye. Yillana smiled. "Now do you remember?"
He nodded as her smile grew. "You'll tell Nymph then?" Gren licked his lips, nodding again.

"Good." The flame flicked out and Yillana crawled to her feet, looking down on her still-paralyzed friend as she brushed the worst of the dirt off her skirt. "I'll tell Master Sarron where you are and that you were hurt delivering a message for a lady. They'll come to pick you up - Sooner or later."

+++++
Gren worked fast, she had to admit. Word of her little display on the street reached the fortress before she did, carried by numerous witnesses, other children who hurriedly took the story to new heights. By the time she stood in front of her mother's door waiting for admittance, three versions, all more ludicrous than the last, had passed her ears. Now she'd ignited flame the height of a man, or weaved air to trip her quarry. How else could the smith's apprentice, so lithe and quick, have found himself overpowered by a skinny girl?

Merlin, eyes a hard gray, stood post, insurance against her mother's latest trouble, another well-meaning who smiled too long and looked through anyone she spoke to. Shifting from foot to foot, their unofficial doorkeeper seemed as tired as she felt. His watch must have lasted all night, though Yillana was certain no one asked him to be here. In every romance she'd ever read - and in her scant twelve years she'd poured over many - love was shown with noble gestures, personal sacrifice, and general self-induced misery, all to show devotion to their beloved.
Rubbing her eyes as her tricks had always left her sleepy, she took a seat against the wall lest she toppled over.

"What did you do this time, my Lady?" Merlin's voice held no genuine interest, sounding like more of a question to keep himself awake.

Yillana tipped her head back and closed her eyes as the tapestry let off a puff of dust. "You haven't already heard? I set fire to Gren and then dragged him through the streets."

Whether Merlin scowled at her answer or found some mirth in her words she didn't know, nor did she care. The soldier tolerated her for her mother's sake, more than she could say for many others in her mother's company, though she got the feeling he was more comfortable when she was not around.

"Your mother is anxious," he persisted in a deep voice, beginning to lull her to sleep. "You are too old to be tackling boys in the streets and setting innocent folk on fire. Think how that reflects on Elise."

Yillana popped an eye open to regard Merlin down her nose, though she had to look up to do so. "You know, I could always set you on fire. It would only add to the story; I'd be a legend by the end of the day."

He shifted again, this time with discomfort and half-belief in her threat, and Yillana smiled, ignoring his disapproving stare. Once enough to invoke fear, she was in a genuinely black mood today, and nothing short of the Dark One himself would stop her. Poised to follow her reply with another remark that would earn her more than a stare, her mother's door cracked open before she could, hinges creaking painfully to reveal Elise herself, petite and pale, her ki'sain barely visible but as white as the woman who wore it. Yillana raised an eyebrow, both eyes open wide, her smile genuine as she regarded her mother, diminutive in her ever-present black. Elise Tarth opening her door was a cause for celebration; Elise Tarth out of bed before noon was parade-worthy news; and the two together was enough to raise Yillana's spirits ever so slightly as she walked over to her mother.

"Ginny, my dear. Are you alright?" she asked as her stick-thin fingers reached up to smooth her hair. "They said you set the blacksmith's boy on fire."

Shooting Merlin a dark look, Yillana hugged the small woman, feeling her bones sharp and protruding despite the many layers of clothing." I didn't. Honest," she whispered earnestly, not even having to stretch on her toes to reach her mother's ear. Elise was barely five feet tall, and her daughter had met with an early growth spurt. By this point, the two practically stood eye to eye.

Elise smiled, weak though not forced, pulling out of her embrace, needlessly smoothing Yillana's dress and hair. "I know, my dear. Come." She gestured past the door into her apartment, for once open with sunlight pouring in. Knowing a punishment was headed her way despite the warm reception, Yillana did find some small joy in the lightened room, usually more akin to a crypt.

“Are you feeling better today, mother?" Yillana said as she turned to walk backward, voice light as she watched Elise close the door behind her. They were long overdue for a good day. The last one was over half a year ago, though she never remembered Yillana's name, addressing her as a long-dead sister, but the moment the lock clicked her smile was gone, mother stiff as a board and her back to the door.

Instantly alert, Yillana spun around, scanning the bright room until her gaze settled on another petite woman who did not attempt to hide, instead standing behind her mother's desk. Hair black as night fell in waves around her face, framing a pale complexion and blue stone hanging from her forehead. She looked Yillana up and down, face betraying nothing, though the scrutiny felt akin to the cook appraising a cut of meat.

Reaching back, Yillana held out her hand. "Mother," she said, pushing the smaller woman behind her as their hands met. "My dear-" Elise began, but Yillana cut her off, addressing the stranger.

"Who are you?"

Cocking her head, the woman’s liquid brown eyes blinked, almost curious over an utterly composed expression. "I am not here to hurt you, child."

Yillana scowled. "Do you speak for him as well?" she asked, pointing to a shadow beyond the window, dark blue to match the curtains - save it sported a head.

Her smile was small. "Yes, child." She motioned to the corner, and the tall man with a face like stone, hadori holding back dark hair that was just beginning to streak with gray, stepped forward.

"You may call me Moiraine Sedai, and this is my Warder Lan,” she said as he nodded in line with her words. "Your mother tells me you have touched Saidar."

"She also might have told you the Dark One walks the earth, but just because she says something doesn't make it real." Yillana bit the inside of her mouth the moment the words left her lips, taking a step back, sure she was sheet white.

Unruffled by the rude answer, Moiraine folded her hands before her, expression unchanging. "Could you show me, child?"

"Ginny," Elise said, clutching her hand. "Please listen."

Hand clapped over her mouth lest she spouted anything more foolish, Yillana shook her head and began to back up, pushing her mother with her until they bumped against the door-

"Ginny, please!" she continued to beg, but Yillana paid no attention. She searched for the handle, never taking her eyes from the two across the room. The Blue Sister didn't move a muscle, only watched her, impassive while her Warder lurked in the background - a man of perpetual violence, Yillana decided; definitely one to avoid. Metal cool on her fingers, she finally found the handle and jerked the door open, intent on pulling her mother to safety until Elise planted her feet, expression pleading in vain as Yillana, unable to bring herself to stay, pushed past a confused Merlin. Picking up her skirt, she ran.

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.

Chapter Text

Yillana scowled behind her bangs. It galled her that there wasn’t a mark on him, not a bruise or a scrape - just his ugly expression. Her own injury throbbed, adorning her forehead as a bitter reminder of her most recent failure and her two weasel companions, neither of whom were attached to a chair and unable to move unless they confessed their crimes. 

Moiraine Sedai did not look dangerous, but as Yillana quickly learned certain actions, including the choice of curse words she’d thrown upon waking in her mother's study, sparked the Blues ire. Since then Yillana kept such thoughts to herself. 

Now the Aes Sedai held the cause of Yillana’s goose egg and Gren’s next bloody nose before her, turning the heavy ring over and over in her palm. “I wonder,” she said, looking back to Lan, stone-faced beneath a window shrouded in dusty drapes. “what would a child want with such an item?” 

Yillana scowled. “Why do you want to know?” 

Moraine cocked her head. “You were caught stealing. You must understand the seriousness of your crime.”   

“I stole nothing!” Yillana said as the Aes Sedai’s eyebrows disappeared into her hair. “Didn’t even make it out of the room, no thanks to him.”

Lan did not humour her with an expression but she could just imagine him laughing at her, sitting in the same chair she’d thrown at him.

“Did someone make you take the ring?” Moraine asked as she leaned forward, intent on an answer 

Of all the questions she could ask, Yillana thought - she must want something. Cook never asked why when she stole bread, and Sargent Algoran didn’t care if she’d snuck into the Blight. They just wanted her punished and then put out of sight. 

What would happen if she gave the woman Nymph and Gren’s names? Disappointment came to mind; an unruly boy and his chubby friend could hardly be involved with anything more dangerous than throwing her to the wolves. A small part of her wanted to see Lan reduce Nymph to a blubbering mess or have Moraine string Gren along like a dancing bear, but she could not convince herself to speak. 

“What of your mother?” 

Unexpected and unwelcome, Yillana raised her chin. “My mother is sick.”

“Did she tell you of the Golden Crane?”

“My mother is sick,” she repeated, wishing she could growl like Merlin and send the Aes Sedai running.

“Were you promised anything in return for delivering the ring?”

Yillana gripped the side of the chair nails, chipping the wood. “Don’t believe ANYTHING she tells you.”

Moraine straightened; Yillana bit her tongue the moment the words left her mouth, furiously blinking back the tears welling behind her eyes. Nymph and Gren did not deserve her silence - idiots the both of them - but if they suspected her mother… 

As if Yillana summoned one of Elises fits just by thinking about it her mother suddenly let out a pitch wail. The Aes Sedai wasted no time and in moments Yillana stood against the locked door, her cheeks wet and tears dripping from the point of her nose. When Elise continued screaming her daughter called back, the cry of frustration coupled with her furious struggle caused the door to rattle, but she could not break through the lock. Merlin shouted, his harsh rumble unmistakable as he called her name, accompanying a crack and thud that shook the women's quarters. Elise let out another shriek and the floor reverberated with the sound of a body thrown against a wall. 

Yillana groaned and slumped to her knees, once again pressed to the cold stone. Her first attempt at summoning any tricks obscured her vision in a flash of light, followed by an immense pressure at the base of her skull. Limp and panting she tried again, warmth travelling the length of her nail only to be stopped by another burst of light. On the other side of the door, glass shattered. Mother would be standing on the windowsill threatening to throw herself off the ledge, a waif in heavy black fabric cursing the cruel world. Merlin could not help her, afraid to reach out and save the woman he loved for fear of breaking her, as if her bones shattering on the ground would be gentle. The nurse would surely have run for the guard by now - Catch the Lady as she falls! Cut her down before she kills herself! - what other stupid things had she heard the woman who was supposedly mother's caretaker and closest confidant whimpering? Yillana felt sick every time she gave Elise back, passing less and less of a human over after each fit; what carnage would she awake to this time? If mother died would Moraine take her, ignoring a daughter’s limitless hatred and deliver her to the tower? Yillana would never get close enough to kill the Sister, but a dark part of her, the shadow that reared its ugly head when she threatened Nymph and Gren, told her she possessed the courage to try. Spurred on by a final desperate she pushed again. The pain in her head was at once too intense to try another escape and unconsciousness arrived in waves punctured by her mother’s eerie wail, each one longer than the last. 

+++++

She was fury, she was wrath, she was the storm rolling across the Blight full of the Dark One’s vengeance and hatred - she was also twelve. No matter how imposing she felt, scarcely past his elbow, her power of intimidation fell short as Yillana glared up at Lan. “Let me through!” she demanded.

Merlin stepped beside the Warder, new lines carved across his face, a century older than when she saw him yesterday. “Elise is sleeping.”

“So you didn’t kill her.” Yillana heard the words leave her mouth and flinched.

“Yillana,” Merlin exhaled her name, exasperated, not recognizing her fury. “you’ve done enough damage. Leave your mother be.”

Her fist balled at her side she hissed through her teeth, addressing Lan directly. “Will you let me see my mother?”

He considered her request, she could tell, his eyes wandered ever so slightly from her to the man at his shoulder who found it increasingly hard to stand still. 

“Yillana,” Merlin’s hand grazed her arm before she could step back. Lan continued to watch, not saying a word giving no indication he would move. 

“I told you, girl,” he said as she took another step back, wishing Moraine’s Warder would say something. “We don’t need you here. Your mother’s taken an awful fright and the last thing she needs is-”

“ Shut up! ”

Merlin flinched as if slapped, breaking off mid-sentence. Wide-eyed he turned to Lan but the other man ignored him, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly as he addressed Yillana, shaking from the force of her words. “Go in,” he said. “Moraine is with her.”

She blinked, waiting for Merlin to contradict him, but he stayed silent and held her mother’s door as she hid her sweaty palms in the pockets of her dress, then walked into the darkness.

+++++

Merlin once told her Elise was cursed. By who, she’d asked. For what? No one in her books ever caught a curse from hiding in their room all day. Had her mother stolen an ancient artifact? Sold her soul to the Dark One? Angered an Aes Sedai? Those all struck Yillana as probable, even acceptable grounds for a curse. 

Immediately regretting their conversation, Merlin made a hasty retreat. “None of your business,” he’d mumbled, surprised the child crouched over an unconscious Elise would take interest in her mother's well-being.

The mistrust she harboured towards the man began to take on a life of its own as he ignored her questions. Time and time again Yillana had found herself on the wrong side of the door. Nymph and Gren called her stupid, but she liked to think of herself as brave - who better to take care of Elise than her own family? Merlin never elaborated on his arguments; if anything they grew more fervent as she aged. To see him so meekly grant her admittance, Yillana couldn’t help but look over her shoulder just in case he came to his senses and thought to drag her back out.

Coated in dust the room closed in around her as Yillana pulled the door shut, blinking several times before her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Stretched across her bed diagonally as if she had been thrown there then repositioned Elise slept, her breathing quiet and even, while Moiraine Sedai kneeled at her feet with her elbows propped atop the blankets. 

Aes Sedai did not age, as far as Yillana could tell. The one beside her could be over a hundred but every person, man or woman, wore the same expression after experiencing one of Mother’s fits. Fixed underneath her elegant hair hidden beneath the jewel that still dangled across her brow, Moraine barely concealed the customary amount of fear and shock that even Merlin worked through. It made Yillana feel better and worse all at once; satisfied even Aes Sedai knew earthly fear, yet ashamed at the same time.

Not taking her eyes from Elise, Moraine stood up and then lit a blue flame on her mother’s nightstand, the mirror bouncing the small light across the room and illuminating the shattered window, shards of glass reflecting on the cracked sill and surrounding floor. Knocked aside in her mad rush to jump, both chairs and a small writing desk sat out of place, neither broken but several feet from where they usually stood collecting dust. Yillana walked amongst the carnage, expecting… more . For all, she heard half the room should have been missing. 

Gingerly placing her feet to avoid glass and splintered wood, Yillana brushed a limp strand of hair off her mother's face, kissed her forehead, then knelt beside the bed.

“Did she scare you?” Yillana asked, hoping for the worst answers possible. ‘She’s mad’ or ‘death would be a mercy’ were some of her favourites, but worst of all would have been ‘what have you done to her?’ They provided her with ample excuse to misbehave and let out her anger. but the Aes Sedai did not humour her, only sitting further back in her chair as she smoothed her blue dress.

“I fear for her.”

Moraine raised an elegant eyebrow as Yillana scowled. “Well I’m sure she appreciates your concern,” the little girl spat.  

Moraine shook her head, the expression behind her long hair gentle and unexpected. Yillana felt herself wanting to smile. This woman was not afraid of her mother.   

“Your mother is not beyond healing,” the Aes Sedai continued. “At least for a short time.”

“And I’m the Queen of Malkier,” Yillana replied, dripping with sarcasm before the feeling quickly faded. Anger settled around her, an old and trusted friend as she remembered her mother’s screams. 

The satisfaction Yillana felt as Moraine shook her head in defeat and the cruel detail with which she described it did bring only silence, failing to capture even the simple imaginations of Nymph and Gren who she’d previously held rapt with her tail. Visibly shrinking as he did when she threatened to cut out his tongue, Nymph shuffled to the far end of the kitchen roof, while Gren’s anger held none of its usual good humour. 

“She offered a cure and you said no?” Gren asked, leaning forward as the steel roof creaked under his weight. One day very soon he would be too heavy to join them.

“I didn’t say no and it's not a cure,” she retorted inwardly, cringing under his scrutiny.

“Could have fooled me,” Nymph called over his shoulder back to them, feet dangling over the duck pen. “You wouldn’t have to ask me twice if she were my Ma and someone offered a cure for crazy.”

Gren’s grip on her elbow was as tight as an iron band, there the instant the other boy closed his mouth and the only thing that kept her from pushing Nymph off the roof.

“He’s right, Laina,” he said, the pull of his hand lessening as she relaxed and let out a shaky breath. “You should say yes.” 

Swaying ever so slightly, Nymph’s swinging legs moved the entire structure. Yillana scowled first at Nymph’s back, the pudgy boy seemingly lost in shallow thought, and then at Gren, who more and more reminded her of the men who scowled in disapproval when she ran the fort walls.

“At least she can’t hurt me,” she finally offered.

Gren nodded a brief smile over her head for his counterpart. “It would take more than an army to hurt you, Laina,” he said, his words genuine. The hand still holding her arm gave it a squeeze before letting go.

She knew they conspired against her. There was no other way and if they didn’t plan it out right they'd spent so much time together it developed naturally. Usually, it left her infuriated and hollow; she hated being manipulated, but this time and only this once she decided upon heading back to the fort, leaving the two boys’ mismatched silhouettes on the roof. This time, she was thankful for it.

+++++

When Elise woke she smiled, first at Yillana and then over her daughter's shoulder. “Thank you, Aes Sedai,” she whispered.

The Blue sister returned her smile, a brief moment of understanding between the two women before Moraine pulled the door closed behind her.

At the foot of her bed gaping like a fish her daughter blinked, then rubbed her eyes and blinked again.

Hair made darker against her pale skin, Yillana reminded her so much of her late husband, from the arch of her nose to the smirk that he’d forever passed off as a smile. She remembered her daughter smiling like that once many years ago, but now she scowled, an expression learned from Merlin, and Elise found it distressing. “My beautiful girl,” she cooed, reaching across the bed.

Yillana stepped back and wiped a budding tear from beneath her eye, the look of a child who so desperately wanted to trust what was before them. 

“You’ve grown since I last saw you.” 

A hiccup escaped her daughter’s lips despite her hard expression. 

“And you have your father's eyes.”

Yillana shook her head and clamped both hands over her mouth, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, pooling atop her hands and sliding down her wrists.

Elise felt her own tears threaten to flow but forced a smile and pulled back the covers, momentarily saddened by her frail body; long gone was the woman who once followed her husband to war. Grabbing the bedpost for support she marvelled at her daughter’s height, hunched as she was she could still look her mother in the eye.

“Merlin says I look like you,” Yillana finally croaked just as Elise found her feet and wrapped her daughter in a fierce embrace.

Yillana stiffened but did not pull away, she even let Elise stroke her hair. Simultaneously the greatest and most terrible gift she had ever been given she felt her daughter's pain, the deep suspicion and fear at facing the world alone and the understanding of the cruel impermanence of her situation. Yillana did not want to believe her mother was healed even if it was just for a day, but Elise would not let this opportunity pass. The day Yillana set that poor boy on fire made Elise realize how a child capable beyond her years was dangerous, and it didn’t take an Aes Sedai’s gift of clarity to convince her she would be best served elsewhere. She was a strong girl and would find a way to move forward: Moraine would see to that. The only trouble came in convincing her to leave.  

Suspicion finally overpowering her, Yillana let go and held Elise at arm's length. Her tears were gone but she bit the inside of her lip, indicating they were not far below the surface. “You are well today, Mother,” she said, using her formality as a shield against disappointment.

 Elise suppressed a sudden acute sadness. “Yes,” she replied, imagining her daughter’s smile in response. “I am.”

Yillana nodded vigorously, at once an overwhelmed nervous child before she caught herself. “Then you should eat.” 

Across the room and back in seconds Yillana carried a tray piled high with toast, stewed pear and an assortment of jams which she set between them. Taking two slices of toast she spread honey on one and butter on the other than crushed the two pieces together, a small drip of the mixture rolling down her finger. “Eat,” she commanded, only preparing her own bread once Elise took her first bite.

Her daughter's own food inhaled before she could take her second bite Yillana waited patiently, following each time the bread left Elise’s plate on the way to her mouth as if she expected it to burst into flames. Once she finished the sticky syrup coating her fingers Yillana quickly took her tray and offered up a napkin, removing that the moment Elise finished using it. “Tea?” she asked.

Elise blinked, unaccustomed to the speed of it all, but she smiled again. “Yes please.” 

The china cup, absent saucer or spoon, appeared in her hand seconds later and was removed with even greater haste when empty. A second helping was not offered. Though Elise felt as if she hadn't eaten in days, the urgency and controlled practice with which Yillana cleared any evidence of their meal then pushed the tray into the hall confirmed Elise’s suspicions that she was often a dangerous dinner companion. If she all of a sudden requested the second piece of toast Yillana could very well take it as a sign of hostility.

Now perched under the window arms above her head a sudden breeze set the bed curtains aflutter. Yillana jumped to reach the topmost latch that once opened flooded the room with crisp spring air.

“Not much light today,” her daughter spoke into the wardrobe, her last stop as she scurried from corner to corner and opened up what Elise realized had become her whole world. Sorting through the armoire’s contents until she found what she was looking for Yillana turned and held up the garment, a dark blue dress that was simple, but undeniably elegant and very familiar. 

“It's a warm wind,” she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips as she looked from Elise to the dress. “Perfect for a walk.”

Chapter Text

Elise smiled, face turned to the sky. Her daughter was right - there wasn't much light, but the warm south wind tickled the back of her neck, whipping hair across her face. Tight to her side Yillana gripped her elbow, giving a gentle tug when she felt they should move. Looking much older than twelve she guided them along the rampart, careful to keep herself between them and the sheer drop to their right. Elise did not have the heart to argue but took every chance to linger and look. Barren and worn like the Blight just beyond the wall, her last clear memories of home were decades old. Surely they were rose-coloured and unreliable, like all the images she stored from when her husband and oldest daughter lived but the Blight looked closer, the wrongness leaking out of the corrupt land worse than she ever remembered.

Is that a testament to my strength, Elise wondered, silently ashamed of how heavily she leaned on her daughter to climb the rampart stairs. Or have I truly lost that much time?

When she stepped out of her room, dressed in blue, Elise felt she stepped back in time and then suddenly forward to a world much darker than when she left. On the surface, her apartment was the same, the study with its desk and thick carpets collecting dust unchanged. Had she spent any time here in the past ten years?. From how quickly Yillana ushered her through the space Elise suspected she had.

"Where are we headed ?" Elise whispered with a conspiratorial smile, hoping to distract her daughter.

Her tears dried Yillana reverted to a cautious formality that looked odd on someone so young and any attempts at levity were ignored. Releasing her mother's elbow to hastily smooth and rearrange their skirts, she'd been offered nothing more than a tentative smile before the apartment door swung open.

Clouded by the room's dusty light Elise blinked, her eyes adjusting in time to see Merlin. The years had not been kind to her friend and the shock left her momentarily uncoordinated. Once teased for his dour expression Elsie could count each year since he'd taken post outside her door by the lines on his face. So devoted to her husband this dear sweet man gave up much of his life to see her safe - and at great expense; Elise reminded as much when Merlin's expression softened like he wanted to speak until Yillana hissed and he snapped his mouth shut.

"Yillana - dear,"

"It’s alright, Mother," her daughter's small hands like a vice around her elbow pulling them away from Merlin, interpreting the stutter as fear. "He won't be coming with us."

"Yillana-" If she wasn't so small Elise would have called her imperious the way she rounded on Merlin.

"You know it's not safe," Merlin’s voice firm as he took a step towards them.

"You never cared before," Yillana spat, her response equally so despite tears collected in the corner of her eyes.

With her gift of clarity, snippets of conversations, once nonsensical came into sharp focus, and Elise realized this battle happened often. Equal feelings of pride and shame caught in her chest she returned her daughter's grip and spoke her name such that Yillana turned, for a moment simply a child caught misbehaving. Right then Elise wished, if only for a heartbeat that Moraine would take back her healing. Clarity and understanding left her acutely aware she was the reason for her daughters harsh worlds and Merlin’s heartaches . Such a realization threatened to sink her, but with understanding came agency and the ability to ensure this short time would not be spent reminded of the animosity between those she loved most.

"I would feel safer if Merlin joined us," she looked between the two, attempting an air that left no room for argument.
Merlin relented immediately, visibly relieved and after much scowling and shuffling of feet Yillana nodded, pouting as she conceded to her mother's wishes.

Taking her daughter's hand she released some of the pressure on her elbow then turned them down the hall. "Now don't leave me guessing."

Still skeptical Yillana could not hide the grin that broke across her face. "Outside, around the wall, then the market. Together they'll let us go wherever we want."

Elise smiled. "Then what are we waiting for?" 

Her daughter did not move, her smile disappearing as she looked over Merlin's head and for the first time, Elise noticed the man only a few steps away hidden by the dim hallway. Like Merlin, his face was one she remembered younger and she bit her tongue wanting to laugh but offered Lan a slight bow, sure he noticed the Ki'san on her forehead as she knew the hadori around his.

"You'll tell Moraine Sedai where we are?" Yillana called to the man Elise last saw during the Aiel War. The Wheel Weaves in strange ways , she thought. The Warder nodded in response and met her eye, briefly igniting another urge to giggle so she was glad Yillana, satisfied with his response turned them down the hall.

"I'm fine my dear," the adamant reassurance she was not reverting back to her old self taken with a healthy dose of skepticism when Elise finally let out a quiet chuckle. Now standing on the edge of the north tower, her stomach pressed against the stone admiring the long drop, the absurdity of the situation still brought her great joy. O f course , the man Yillana claimed to be the king of Malkier would actually live up to the name. If anyone returning from the Blight glanced up and saw her smiling over the side, they might lock her away.

And in time, I wouldn't be the only one. The sudden thought swiftly darkened her mood. Moraine's warnings were clear, Yillana must learn to control her gift, so Elise must send her away despite the hollow that opened in her chest. Such a calling would have made her husband proud but Elise did not share his sentiment; to expect that much of a child was cruel so she allowed herself some sadness.
Besides, if the Aes Sedai spoke true by tomorrow Yillana would be a stranger remembered in passing or, in time not at all.

+++++

"Thought you said you weren't a witch?" Gren elbowed her, trying to get comfortable on the uneven roof. So close to the edge if he moved the geese would be on him the moment he hit the ground and unlike his doughy friend, the blacksmith's apprentice did not bounce.

"I'm not a witch," Yillana grumbled, digging into his side. "I'll be back before you can blink and when I tell you about every strapping they gave me, will that be proof enough?”

"But Laina, didn't you say the Aes Sedai said that you'd…" Nymph interrupted, then trailed off looking around as he shuffled closer, his stench overpowering. " die , or set yourself on fire?"

Dealing him the bony part of her elbow she swatted him backward, though he still sat much closer than she usually allowed. Tonight they sat shoulder to shoulder, Yillana pressed between the two boys, a spot she usually hated, but in her current situation, she was glad for the support.

"Wouldn't you be glad?" she asked on reflex to hide her growing fear. Lan and Moraine would leave for Tar Valon in the morning and by this time tomorrow these two weasels would be holding down their spot alone. What would they do without her? What would Elise do? Her mother assured her she would be fine, but the Aes Sedai's healing was only temporary. After today, there was only Merlin.

"You can't say no to an Aes Sedai," Nymph’s voice pitched to a whine brought Yillana back and prompted a scowl, arms crossed.
"I'm not saying no, you idiot!" she replied.

"Master Sarron says ‘never trust a witch.’" Gren rumbled.

"But Laina owes the Aes Sedai a debt," Nymph persisted, flattening himself on the roof to avoid Gren's swat "and you know what happens if you don't pay."

"Nothing happens, wool-head."

"My uncle was turned into a newt!"

"Your uncle the carpenter?" Gren snorted, his long arms wrapping around Yillana who quickly scooted up the roof as he tried to reach Nymph. "Master Sarron shod his horse yesterday and he didn't look like a newt to me."

Suffling rapidly across the roof Nymph narrowly avoided a cuff to the back of his head, but in his haste to escape toppled over the edge, a plume of feathers rising when he landed. Biting down a laugh Yillana followed Gren to the edge, having to pretend at her annoyance. Any good night on the roof had Nymph fall off at least once, and this would be her last. Pensive, she watched Gren shimmy closer to hang his head down to Nymph, the latter still making feathers rise, doing his best chicken impersonation, likely to fight off the multiple hens pecking his ankles.

"Did you bounce, buddy?" the tall boy called, blowing the fringe out of his eyes as he looked down, then back up at his remaining friend on the roof, surprised she hadn't asked herself. "Yillana wants to know."

Another night she would care - Gren shouldn't put words in her mouth - but he must have noticed her strange mood and he was… trying to help ?

Not gracing them with a response the roof shook instead and Nymph appeared on the other side, facing into the fortress and not out towards the Blight where they usually sat. Blowing like a winded horse her pudgy friend pitched himself over the peak and all but rolled beside them. "He got better you know," Nymph panted, pointing wildly in their direction. "My uncle's not a newt anymore because he got better."

"Do you even know what a newt looks like?" Yillana asked, Gren, eyeing his friend skeptically over her head.

"No Laina,", the words forced as he tried to catch his breath. "But you need to watch out for them in Tar Valon. If they're in league with the Aes Sedai they might be dangerous, and if you can't use your tricks to protect yourself -" he cut himself off, chest still heaving.

Eyebrows knit together watching his absurd show, Yillana didn't correct him as that strange feeling returned, bringing with it a rush of sympathy. Instead, she laid a gentle hand on Nymph's arm - was he concerned, or was she already lonely?

"He's right Laina," Gren's low rumble familiar and a strange comfort like Nymph's antics. Yillana had to swallow the spreading feeling to achieve the required level of exasperation.
"Not about the newts" he quickly corrected, any question she was not herself wiped from his face. "People are different in the south."

Yillana rolled her eyes. Merlin told her the same thing once she finally agreed to go - funny that, him telling her to watch out for people. She couldn't possibly meet anyone she liked less and it concerned her Elise did not share her mistrust.

"I'll be fine," she assured them - and she would be. With only a few months away, nothing could change that much. Still, Nymph and Gren were the embodiment of chaos. She had to ensure they were kept in line and without her there, they needed a job and a healthy amount of fear.

"I'd be more worried about your own hide if I were you."

"Whose hide are you worried about?" Nymph sat up; any exhaustion was forgotten if he could possibly be in danger.

"Yours," she poked his shoulder. "and yours." She turned to Gren, a finger pointed to his chest.

"It's a long journey to Tar Valon," - she didn't know if it was - "and I haven't told Moraine Sedai who told me to steal the ring."

"She's leaving tomorrow Laina - can't hurt us then." Nymph managed a smug expression while still looking scared, while Gren grunted in agreement.

Yillana smiled, the last of that strange feeling pushed to the pit of her stomach and she sat up straighter looking between her friends, one nervous and the other skeptical. She felt a story forming.

"Malkier is a proud nation. Rumour of a slight to the Golden Crane would be taken very seriously by anyone, and you said it yourself: Never trust a witch…”

Nymph swallowed, a little pale.

"So if you want me to shut up, you need to do something for me." 

Gren straightened "Laina,", her name a warning as she made to push him back but found her friend stronger than she remembered.

"Don't worry. It's simple," she patted his chest, resolving not to use her tricks when that feeling began to resurface. Maybe she should have just asked .

"Then spit it out!" Said in unison, Yillana jumped quickly to search both boys' faces for signs of their own tricks and her usual position as the scapegoat. Finding nothing, she continued. 

"My mother needs help - keep an eye on her." The request sounded lame compared to the build-up, but she had no one else.

Obviously confused neither voiced any objection, but Yillana's heart sank when they gave her identical looks, some silent agreement passed between them. Wishing she sat above the two she prepared to fend off their final act, for her mother's sake.

"You could have just asked." Gren’s voice quiet and gentle as he removed her hand from his shirt. Yillana, ready to deliver a scathing response was left with her mouth hanging open, words frozen in her throat.

"We'll bug Merlin just like you do Laina." Nymph added. He pulled at her sleeve, smiling tentatively as she turned to him, quiet in her shock.

"Are you sure?" she finally whispered, that feeling she’d pushed to the bottom of her stomach rising up into her chest, fast becoming a lump in her throat.

"We can handle it, right buddy? So long as you don't send one of your new friends after us, that is," Gren piped up behind her.

"Your ma's a nice lady Laina," Nymph nodded in agreement. "for being crazy."

Letting out a shaky breath, her wish to be far from her friends disappeared. Nymph and Gren were idiots, but they were hers and their words were genuine.

"I'll be back."

"Is that a promise?" 

Gren was ever the skeptic but this time Yillana did not challenge him. Sitting back on the roof so she looked between the two boys, the lump still in her throat, she nodded. "It's a promise."

+++++

He knocked. After all this time Merlin didn't need to. If her scattered memory could be trusted he'd seen her in various states of madness and undress for the past twelve years. Properly clothed and stable, Elise wondered if he even recognized her in this rare form.

Taking up post, his back to the door, Elise had to beckon him closer three times before her old friend took a few hesitant steps across the room. Hands clasped behind his back Merlin looked over her, scanning the room as he spoke, some complicated emotion contorting his usual dower expression. "Where is Yillana?"

"Sleeping," Elise answered, her hands clasped tight in her lap lest she reached out to comfort him

"This early?" Merlin pulled aside the blue curtain, studying the twilight sky in clear surprise. "It's barely half ten."

Gesturing to the chair opposite her, Elise smiled. "She sleeps later."

Ignoring her offer, Merlin bowed in apology. "If she sleeps at all," he whispered. "Most nights she spends reading or running the halls."

"And you do nothing to stop her?"

Flinching as if slapped Merlin took a step back, eyes fixed on the floor. "It is not my place," he answered then paused, shifting his weight. Elise thought she glimpsed the shadow of a smile when he spoke again. "And she's hard to catch."

Elise leaned forward. "I imagine she is. She seems to know everyone on this side of the city. I've never seen her happier," her voice light and free of accusation, but Merlin was stubborn and determined to keep his distance, formality a guard against disappointment. Methods, she suspected, he passed along if unknowingly to her daughter.

Refusing to accept his distance she pressed on. "I was glad for your company. It brought back memories I didn't know I still had."

Merlin nodded but said nothing.

"I am unsure how much you heard," Elise continued, feeling as if she spoke to a stone wall. "Yillana will leave for Tar Valon tomorrow. It may have taken a year off my life to convince her and Light knows I would rather have her with me, but Moraine Sedai thinks she has potential."

Still, Merlin remained silent.

"They have business outside of the fortress tonight, but will be back for Yillana tomorrow. I would appreciate it if you took her, to ensure she gets off safely".

"Of course , " Merlin finally answered, voice thick with emotion. If he looked up Elise suspected she would see him fighting back tears.

"Thank you."

With another curt nod Merlin reached for the door, eyes on the ground. Startled by his abrupt departure Elise scrambled to her feet, knocked the chair over in the process and called his name, breathy and strangled. Seeing stars from standing up so fast her distress was enough to turn her friend around and have him guide her back to the chair. It also forced him to look at her as as she refused to let go of his arm once he had her settled.

"You need to rest," he protested weakly.

"Then stop being a fool and take a seat. We can talk while I rest," Elise said, kicking the adjacent chair for emphasis.

This made Merlin smile - a brief thing, gone before she could comment, but confirmation he too was thinking about the past. Elise couldn't count the number of times she'd scolded him and her husband for their antics and foolish jokes. To do it again brought back many happy memories, it also reminded her of the ghost sitting between them. Merlin was her late husband's best friend, close as a brother. He was with her when she traded her red Kis'an for white, he also followed her when she struck out into the Blight, mad with the rumour her husband was not dead. Now he sat across from her elbows resting on his knees, head hanging. Occasionally he looked up as if he wanted to speak, only to let out a shaking breath and say nothing.

Elise finally broke the painful silence, drawing her chair across the stone floor to sit in front of Merlin, so close their knees touched and she could hold both his hands on her lap. "Do you remember what he used to do then you were lost for words"?

Merlin swallowed and let out a huff that sounded like strangled laughter as Elise continued. “He would give them to you, just start talking, and make up what he thought you wanted to say."

"The idiot had too many words of his own, the least he could do was share."

It was Elise's turn to laugh and her smile grew as Merlin looked up, one eyebrow raised. "Are you going to try your hand?" he asked.

"Light no!" she exclaimed "If you remember we usually found ourselves in even more trouble after that."

Merlin nodded sagely. "That we did." He paused. "Almost as much as Yillana finds for herself."

"At least she comes by it honestly."

Merlin's smile disappeared. "She hates me," he said with grim certainty.

"She does not hate you." Her assurance felt hollow; Yillana's actions suggested the contrary. "She doesn't know you or what you have done, what you've given up."

"Should she know?"

Elise expected the question; she directed the conversation in the hope it would come up. Now finally faced with the need for an answer she only wished to avoid it. "Would it make a difference?"

"Only if she listens," Merlin countered. "and even then"...

Elise bit her tongue "I know," she whispered. "We have so little time."

Readjusting his grip Merlin folded their hands together, interlacing fingers, then leaned forward until they sat head to head. Elise's maid once remarked they looked like skeeming children planning their next move, and in a sense they were. Since her husband's death, she and Merlin had grown closer. In her fleeting moments of clarity she knew she loved him. Whether for the memories he carried or for the man himself she would never know, but having him this close grounded her, even if she had to be the sensible one. Tonight with the weight of time and expectations pressing down around her Elise felt the need to apologize.

"Honour to serve," he managed between deep breaths.

"Even when it's not," she teased, hoping to wring another smile out of him; they had a long night ahead and much to discuss. To her delight, Merlin obliged. 

"Yes,” he replied. “Even then."

Chapter Text

"You have your father's eyes."

Elise's soft words and reassuring smile comforted Yillana as she collapsed into her mother's lap, whatever strength that so inspired her friend to assure her nothing save an army could break her finally breaking down. The memory consumed Yillana on their first day of travel and she hoped her mother remembered she was gone, though at this point there was very little she could do if Elise suddenly decided her daughter had disappeared. Propped in front of Lan, unable to escape if she'd been so inclined to try, her view of the country appeared in flashes on either side of Manbarb's mane and what she saw when the Warder dropped his elbows. Too far off the ground in her opinion, Yillana tried to make herself as small as possible when the irate horse snapped his teeth at her ankle. Lan paid it no attention, setting a pace hard enough that a day of riding was over before she knew it.

"How far is it to Tar Valon?" she asked, the second day already road-weary and saddlesore. As with most of her questions, Lan ignored her and Moiraine regarded them from behind her hair, yet to answer. At first, Yillana didn't mind the quiet; it gave her time to think, but the more she imagined Elise alone with Merlin while she was in a tower full of women supposedly as cryptic as Moiraine, the more she wanted to talk.

An Aes Sedai and Warder would not be impressed by her stories, so she began to ask questions. First, she enquired about the various trees and sickly shrubs they passed, a harmless topic - or so Yillana thought. The answers she received, clipped and often sinister, prompted a change of subject. When you were this close to the Blight, apparently everything could kill you.
Her second attempt drew a more promising reaction from both Aes Sedai and Warder, though all of Lan’s answers seemed phrased to deter further questioning. Undeterred, however, Yillana's inquiries grew from what Moiraine discussed with her mother to the rumours she'd picked up from the women's quarters and whisperings about the Golden Crane. Though she could not see his face Yillana felt the Warder tense ever so slightly at the mention of the nation she claimed him king of, so she began to pry just as she did when Merlin flinched, trying to sidestep questions about her mother. Made of stronger stuff than Mother’s door post, Lan's clipped answers turned into stony silence. 

Growing frustrated Yillana tried harder to get a rise out of him or Moiraine, questioning everything from his sense of direction to the likelihood his Aes Sedai would sell her to a passing trader.

Neither of her travelling companions paid her any mind, then five days into their journey Yillana fell off. One moment she was in the saddle questioning the Warder's choice of mount, altogether too large and vicious in her opinion, when she tipped and landed face-first on dry grass and rolled into a shallow ditch. Moiraine rode on, flecks of dust coating Yillana's hair as she passed while Lan stopped farther ahead, halting his war horse by a lonely tree.

Rubbing a grimy hand across her forehead Yillana studied the dirt pooled on her skirt and gave the garment a flap, tiny pebbles showering her feet adding to the many sharp rock shards living in her boots. Down the road, Mandarb stamped his hoof impatiently and Lan laid a hand on the horse's neck, looking over his shoulder in time to see Yillana stick out her tongue and make a rude hand gesture, then continue scattering the dust once caught in her shoe. Slowly, she made her way to where he sat. She pulled off then replaced the other shoe, raising small puffs of dust, and then stomped them, before finally exchanging a curt nod with the Warder as she took his offered arm to remount. Yillana understood, albeit grudgingly, why she'd 'fallen off' and they travelled in silence save when Moiraine took her aside that night, whispering softly as she channelled, the light created blending into their fire.

+++++

Moiraine sat down on the other side of the fire. Dressed for travel and seemingly human enough to look tired after a long day in the saddle, Yillana only felt a small chill when the Aes Sedai looked up. Wrapped in a thick blanket that smelled strongly of horse, Yillana stared back at the strange woman who ignored the numerous creaks and what could only be called screams from the night air. Safe amongst her mother's dusty books or sneaking around the women's quarters, the dangers everyone warned her of meant little. Exposed to the elements with nothing around them save a small crop of trees and Lan's occasional appearance as he circled their camp, Yillana wondered if Merlin and the Sergeant who punished her for trying to sneak into the Blight might have had a point.

"Lan's keeping watch," Moiraine said, her voice low and quiet. Even buried in her blanket Yillana could not hide her stricken expression or the compulsion to flinch at every new sound; such was that the Aes Sedai decided she needed reassurance.

Clutching the fabric higher around herself Yillana nodded her thanks, deciding to focus on the blue stone hanging amidst Moiraine's hair. Many shades of the same colour shifted across its surface, catching the firelight when she moved. The longer Yillana stared the deeper the colour ran, swirling with the flame's yellow light to turn white, not unlike the flames she created or her mother's Kis'an.

"Will you show me, child?"

Blinking rapidly to break the spell Yillana met Moiraine's eyes, deep brown and inquisitive against an otherwise serene face.

"Are you sure I won't get in trouble?" she asked.

Lips pressed together Moiraine watched her, almost impossibly still, then reached for a small cup of tea she’d brewed earlier in the evening but had forgotten and left to cool. Walking around the fire, the Aes Sedai settled herself on the other end of Yillana's mat and offered the cup.

Yillana regarded the cup with suspicion. "I don't like tea."
Placed between them Moiraine did not push, but this close a pressure surrounded the Blue Sister. It reached out to engulf Yillana, forcing the air from her lungs until she eventually gasped, feeling as she did after using her tricks one too many times.

Again Moiraine offered the cup but Yillana refused to be taken in. "My mother told me what would happen," she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly.  She swallowed, ashamed by the words that followed. "I don't want to die."

"You have channelled before, touching the Source like this should not harm you," Moiraine assured. Yillana thought it a very direct statement if not entirely comforting, surely laced with double meaning, but still, she loosened her hold on the blanket.

Hooking the cup with a finger, the tea quite cold against her skin compared to the night air, she looked down at the cloudy liquid and then back at Moiraine. "I don't know what to do," she said. Her tricks were always used in need, never for show.

Magically producing an identical cup, its contents presumably cold as well, Moiraine touched the rim and steam just visible in the firelight floated over the now hot tea. Gritting her teeth as the liquid went from cold to hot, the pressure Yillana felt earlier - the same that built in her fingertips with her tricks - rose yet again, threatening to suffocate her.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Yillana hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at the Aes Sedai and desperate to escape the press.

"No child," Moiraine answered, her voice firm but not harsh. "Open yourself to the Source. The pain will only increase the longer you resist."

Nails scratching the indented cup Yillana willed her jaw to unclench, remembering how she called on her tricks when Lan cornered her, finding calm amidst her fear. The pressure travelled from her temples, into her chest, then down her arms before finally igniting her palm as a white flame appeared. Flickering and dim at first the light grew in strength with Yillana's confidence when she realized she was not actively dying.

"Good," Moiraine whispered Yillana's light dancing across her face, lightening her deep eyes and the dark stone on her forehead though she could not focus any heat towards the cup in her hand "Now, let go. Release the Source"

Lost in its shine and marvelling as she always did at the absurdity of fire suspended in mid-air, Yillana reluctantly exhaled, the pressure leaving her hand instantly, followed by fatigue and, unusually, the urge to be sick. Dropping the cup in her hurry to cover her mouth Yillana jumped as now-boiling hot tea spilled into her skirt, soaking half the mat in the process.

Gracefully collecting her cloak to avoid any mess, Moiraine placed a light hand on Yillana's back as she gagged, managing to swallow most of her sick rather than heave in front of the Aes Sedai. Mildly disgusted but adept at hiding it, the Blue removed her hand after a few moments and cleared much of Yillana's mess with a discrete flick of her wrist, gathering the strewn cups.

"Sleep." Moiraine’s whispered command, tinged with sympathy, was all the permission Yillana needed to shuffle over on her mat and collapse. With a bitter taste in her mouth, surrounded by strange noises and shaken by her involuntary use of power sleep should have been impossible but Yillana could barely keep her eyes open. The Aes Sedai's meddling drained her more than her tricks alone ever had. Ensuring the blanket covered her ears Yillana let herself drift off watching Moiraine's dark form shift and bend, morphing into the image of her mother in a blue dress amidst the dying flames.

+++++

"Show me how you healed my mother."

Moiraine looked up from her writing, a finger placed between the pages to mark her spot. Fours days since Yillana's first lesson the Aes Sedai took her aside each evening leading her through what the Blue called ‘Novice exercises,’ a strange mixture of imagining waves and visualizing flowers in an attempt to open and focus her connection to Saidar. Yillana found most lessons confusing and somewhat pointless; her tricks may not always come when called but she doubted imagining herself as a rose unfolding to the sun would save her from an angry Trolloc or help anyone, much less Elise.

"I did not heal her," Moiraine stated in response.

Yillana slumped against a square stone, frowning at the Aes Sedai who sat perched on its twin. Just outside of Fal Moran Lan stopped them in the middle of the day, insisting they make camp while he scouted ahead. Moiraine had not taken up her teaching but sat in silence writing, looking up every few minutes to scan their camp and watch her horse, taking note of which direction she perked her ears. Good for catching intruders due to the beast's excellent hearing Lan explained the day before. While the Warder was still a horrible conversationalist Yillana felt a sight safer since resolving to ask more benign questions - at least, while on horseback.

"She remembered my name for the whole day,” Yillana said. “She didn't scream or try to jump out the window, she ate - I'd call that healed."

"The reprieve was temporary," Moiraine said, closing the tome and looking down on Yillana. "Your mother understood as much."

"I could heal her every day - that would solve the problem." 

It seemed a simple matter yet Moiraine did not appear convinced. "A proposition better made to a Yellow Sister," the Aes Sedai replied, sounding like she intended to offer another lesson, her book forgotten beside her. "What do you know of the Ajahs?"

Yillana knew nothing, save that Moiraine was of the Blue, but right now she had no interest in this lesson; she intended a proper answer. "Do you remember your mother?" she asked.

Moiraine did not reply. Yillana wondered if the question surprised her, but the woman was impossible to read properly behind her mask of authoritative serenity.

"I met my mother for the first time before I left," Yillana continued

Mouth pressed to a thin line, a reaction Yillana suspected to be the Aes Sedai version of a scowl she nodded. "I have few memories of my mother," Moiraine replied as she blinked slowly. "but the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills. I cannot say if you are bound for the same future."

Anger welled up in Yillana’s stomach at the oblique answer. "Then if I can't help my mother, can you make me forget?" she replied, struggling to keep her voice steady. No manner of fear or mortification could ever take her request back.

A hint of disbelief coloured Moiraine’s expression as serenity gave way to surprise and sympathy, reminiscent of how she'd looked after witnessing Elises's fit. "You don't truly want that." 

Meant as a comfort Moiraine's response only heightened Yillana's apprehension as she felt her emotions spiralling further out of control. Was she turning into her mother already?

Curling agast the stone arms wrapped around her stomach in an effort at containment, Yillana glared at the Aes Sedai. "Who are you to tell me what I want?” she spat, her voice small and strangled. “Better to be ignorant of a loss than mourn it." Merlin had taught her that, but Moiraine did not concede to her bleak statement.

"Life is a possibility, and Light willing yours will be longer than most," the Aes Sedai said as she leaned forward, dark hair framing her face "but the Wheel makes no guarantee, and no matter how hard we try some wounds never heal. Then you must learn to live with what you cannot change."

"So you won't help?" Yillana challenged, holding tightly to her anger despite a nagging suspicion the Aes Sedai meant more than she said.

Moiraine sighed quietly for a moment, looking very old. "There is nothing more I can do."

Congenial as it was, the response effectively killed whatever small hope Yillana sought to fan with her question. Moiraine's kindness could not be repeated and there was nothing anyone else could do outside of Tar Valon, and even their help was not guaranteed. Knowing that, she wondered, why had it been offered in the first place?

To that particular question, Yillana never received an answer as Moiraine sat up abruptly once again a pillar of stone, outwardly unconcerned with a child's turmoil.

Biting her tongue Yillana tried to match the Sister's indifference, afraid to be an object of pity like Elise but she couldn't bring herself to unwrap, still gripping her stomach when Moiraine instructed her to follow. Passing her Aldieb's reins the Aes Sedai had her hold the mare while she rolled up their blankets, tucking them and her book in the saddlebags. Nosing at her skirt pockets, then nibbling her shoulder when she found no treats, the horse told Yillana when Lan approached, flicking her ears to the left long before she saw the Warder.

"Along the road"? Moiraine asked, speaking to empty space as he continued to move coming up behind Yillana.

"Further than last time. We can pick our way through the pass on foot," Lan replied overhead, resting a hand on Yillana's shoulder so that she turned around. After six days of travel watching Lan and Moiraine get on and off their horses, she was quite certain she could climb onto Aldieb by herself but today, still sick with thoughts of her mother, Yillana did not protest. Gathering her skirt in one hand, she gripped his arm with the other and Lan lifted her into the saddle.

+++++

From Aldieb's back, Yillana saw the column of smoke first, then the ruined farm when Lan did. The Warder walked ahead of her and Moiraine, leading his warhorse, the unpleasant beast picking its way carefully down the narrow rocky path, followed by the Aes Sedai's mare who had the extra challenge of carrying Yillana. Instructed to hold the saddle and let her leg hang limp lest she kick the horse and make it stumble, Yillana twisted in her seat squinting to see what held Lan's attention.

Far from the farm when she first noticed the strange shapes dotted among the smoke, some moving like jagged wingbeats while others stationary, the horses had picked their way down much of the narrow pass before Yillana realized what she was looking at. Among a charred stone shell, once someone's home and scattered beneath ragged trees or piled atop one another, bodies littered the ground. The stationary lumps Yillana observed so keenly at a distance were all blackened husks while the jerking shapes were those with enough meat on their bones to invite crows and vultures.

"Don't look," Lan ordered, his voice gravel in her ears, but Yillana could not look away. Finding a morbid fascination for carnage, never before seen but much read about, it also fed her need to prove to her travelling companions as well as Nymph and Gren, when they heard the story, that she was not afraid.

Picking their way through the pass they gave the farm a wide berth despite being close enough to identify specifics. Anyone on the main road would hazard running over bodies or falling victim to whatever did the killing.

"What did this?" Yillana asked to no one in particular, making no attempt to hide her disobedience

"Trollocs," the Warder answered as he fell back beside them, effectively blocking Yillana's view by putting himself and his horse between Moiraine and obvious danger.

"Not something you need to see," Moiraine added, her voice soft, looking straight ahead as if she too found the scene distressing. "The world is cruel enough without making a spectacle of others' misfortune."

"Never watch death unless you have to?" Yillana questioned, parroting what Merlin often said to Elise when she used to insist on visiting the mortally wounded men who clawed their way out of the Blight in hope of finding her husband.

The Aes Sedai nodded and Lan grunted seemingly in agreement as they rode on.

+++++

By midday they'd reached the end of the pass, leaving the charred farm and its former inhabitants far behind. Permitted to look where she pleased once lifted onto Mandarb the wind picked up, screaming across the barren ground and buffeting Yillana from all directions despite the Warder’s bulk acting as a windbreak. It was amidst those screams Yillana heard a voice, soft and insistent. A figment of her imagination, she thought - except it would not go away.

"Do you hear that?"

The Warder shifted behind her, alerted by something but not the hiss that now made enough sense to sound like a call for help.

"There it is again," she whispered.

Pulling his horse to a stop, Moiraine drawing rein behind them, Aes Sedai and Warder exchanged a wary stare, an eerie stillness settling between them despite the wind.
Then suddenly, clear and high, a wail like the ones Yillana heard at night cut through the calm and her blood ran cold. In a blur of movement, the Warder kicked his mount to life, Mandarb spinning down a different path, only slowing enough to let Moraine ride ahead. The ground a blur beneath her feet Yillana felt herself falling as they made a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding some obstacle she could not see. Knocked against the front of the saddle she let out a breathy squeak, scrabbling to stay on until Lan caught her flailing form by snaking an arm around her waist.

"Be silent," he commanded, his low whisper reverberating in Yillana’s chest as she swallowed, her rising fear tasting of blood and dust.

Another scream ripped through the air and they ran faster still until a third scream cut them off and Moiraine stopped abruptly at a small crop of trees. Yillana could not see the being that let out the unearthly wails, but between her books and Merlin's macabre stories, she understood why Lan and Moiraine looked so concerned. Not many creatures were brave enough to pursue an Aes Sedai and Warder unless they felt sure of victory, and those that did would be happy to eat a little girl in the process.

Dismounting and pulling Yillana with him, Lan backed them both towards Moiraine who stood facing the trees, a strange pressure that Yillana knew to be the One Power surrounding her while they watched the open plane.

"How many, Gaidin?" Moiraine asked.
Lan, Yillana figured, must have answered in a way she could not hear as the Aes Sedai nodded after which came a quick jerk of her head and Yillana suddenly found herself face to face with Lan. Wide-eyed from the scream and insistent whispering that returned once they stopped, Yillana could not swallow the fear she felt remembering the last time she saw him this close.

Asking permission, he picked her up and helped her into the lower branches of a tree with drooping leaves, intending for her to hide while he and Moiraine faced whatever pursued them. Again reminding her to stay silent, his hard stare abated somewhat when Yillana nodded her understanding and the Warder looked over his shoulder quickly before turning back to her. "If neither Moiraine Sedai nor I return,” he said, “Which way is Fal Moran?"

Holding her wrist to stop its shaking, Yillana pointed back the way they came and Lan nodded, satisfied she understood despite her obvious panic. Shaking the drooping branches as he hopped down Yillana called out before Lan disappeared completely. "Tai’shar Malkier!" 

The Warder's stride cut for a moment when he heard, but al'Lan the uncrowned king did not turn and Yillana was glad of it. She didn't even know what the words meant besides her mother using them when she spoke of surviving to return home.

Chapter Text

There were no trees in the fortress, which did not mean Yillana had never climbed. Finding her way onto the kitchen roof in the middle of winter looked a sight harder than if she intended to climb this tree on her own, but the kitchen roof did not shake, and if she slipped off only the hens would pluck at her clothes. Curled amidst the tree’s twisted branches, fingers pressed to her ears in an attempt to drown out the ever-growing chorus of screams and vicious roars, Yillana knew if she fell whatever found her would be a little more dangerous than a chicken.

He had told her to be silent, but hard as she tried when a hand twice the size of a normal man covered in blood broke through the tree's low branches reaching for her ankle the sound she let out was not entirely her own. Scrambling further upwards Yillana never saw beyond the creatures grasping paw and half of a horned head before a roar shook leaves loose and her assailant slid out of view. For a moment there was silence and another hand, just as weathered but distinctly human, appeared, the rest of him invisible as he watched the forest from the base of her tree. Scooting forward she tapped Lan’s knuckles, sure not to make a sound. With proof, she lived the Warder disappear and Yillana climbed back to her perch, savouring the brief calm - until a voice whispered her name.

At first, the same distant call she’d heard when they began running it became a dry hiss that crept up the back of her neck, sounding like her mother after one of her fits; breathy and utterly spent. It called to Yillana, begging for help - help to jump, help to remember, weaving between her terror to bring forward long-held guilt. It accused her of abandonment, of disrespect, and it told her to leave the tree, to go find her mother and, like a good daughter, take care of her.

"Come back to me, Yillana," Elise whispered, gently shaking the leaves as if to point to the ground and coax her away, but she did not go. Watching the path open Yillana shook her head, burrowing further into the foliage. Whatever wanted her to leave her place of safety would have to try much harder. To her mother, she was Ginny, not Yillana, and she quietly told the voice as much, trying to sound angry though she wanted to cry. For a moment the hiss turned to a quiet, low laugh before fading into the forest.

Wedged beneath a branch to put as much distance between her and the evil voice little light permeated this far in, so Yillana sat in relative darkness, absently pulling off tree bark and humming to herself. Sounding muffled and far away when the fighting resumed and she'd collected herself enough to listen - better it than thinking about her mother - Yillana could hear a sound too human to be Trolloc or Fade. Was it Moiraine, she thought? Did Aes Sedai yell and curse while they fought? If not, maybe Lan then, but the man could sneak up on silence itself. 

Finally, the voice called a third time, deep and familiar.
"Laina," it said, Gren's voice reverberating in her chest. The blacksmith's apprentice sounded frantic. Yillana rolled her eyes, and right he should have been, familiar exasperation and relief lightened her chest as she crawled forward to find an opening in the canopy. The Light-stunned idiot must have followed her from home and now he'd walked into a pitched battle. At least the fool could climb. If she could get him and Nymph safely in the tree they might have been amiable to travel with her. Pulling urgently at the leafy tufts separating her from light Gren called again, strangled and desperate. "no Nymph, don't run! Laina, help!"

"Idiot - coward!" Yillana growled, working faster. If they lived she was going to kill Nymph for abandoning them like the little weasel he was. He'd never done anything like that before; even when they’d snuck into the Blight he stayed with them the whole way. It was as if -

Yillana froze, balanced on a branch that rocked precariously under her weight, one hand raised to the tree canopy an inch from the outside. Soft and warm as a south wind laughter crept between the distant grunts and roars. Crawling up her back the voice wrapped around her neck, for a moment loud and maniacal, then it was gone.

Gasping, the breath knocked from her lungs, Yillana almost threw herself off the branch rather than scream and invite a worse death, but throwing herself off high places was what Elise did. Yillana was not her mother, so she sat down.

Backed against the tree trunk, head pressed between her knees, the battle raged below, only this time each new vibration or scream took on a rhythm,a welcome, known terror outside of the sinister voice that wanted her. Exhausted even though she'd barely moved, Yillana felt pulled into a fitful sleep, walking between conscious and unconscious thought. In that state she heard a new voice, this one she did not know but it moved her unlike any before. Quiet and pleading it called only once between rustles of leaves, then a quiet hiccup as though whoever had called fell, their words cut short and it was gone.

+++++

Mornings at home were grey. The sun rarely broke through until midday, but when Yillana opened her eyes faint sunlight filtered between gently shaking leaves. Groggy and unbelievably sore she stretched, momentarily forgetting her precarious place on the branch or the danger of too much noise. Letting out a yelp Yillana slid down the slanted limb, landing close to the base of the tree just above where Lan had originally placed her in a heap of skirts and muffled curses. At once fully awake ready to face whatever creature was drawn to her clumsy show, Lan’s words rang in her head as she took in the deserted tree and, with a small jump, the rest of the sparse landscape.

If Moiraine Sedai and I don't return …
Yillana took in her surroundings, barely noticed before she’d climbed the tree and wondered how Lan thought they would come out the other side at all. Flattened until it met the open plane, every tree from Yillana outward tilted at an unnatural angle or was uprooted completely. Long gashes raked the dry ground, and black spots too dark to be blood covered her tree and much of the ground. Among discarded vegetation, other shapes lay mangled, many fur-covered and sporting horns and claws. Careful to keep those in her line of sight, Yillana began to inch around the tree, the sticky bark brushing her palms, making them burn slightly. Squinting into the charred undergrowth revealed nothing of the Aes Sedai or her Warder, and in the late morning clear unless they were buried beneath the forest floor, Yillana determined she was indeed alone.

Are they dead? The notion seemed absurd, but a pile of dead Trollocs counted as safety in these parts and the battle looked long over, so where were Lan and Moiraine?

Had they forgotten about her? Yillana pushed tentatively away from the tree, looking left and right - Light she hoped not; the walk to Fal Moran would kill her, and if the voice returned… 

Yillana shook her head, trying to loosen the idea from her mind. It failed to trick her twice, and she would not be fooled a third time.

Choosing her direction based on the number of bodies blocking her path Yillana realized she walked away from Fal Moran, further into the forest, but the other option took her between two lumps that could have been trees or Trollocs. Resolving to venture only a little further than cut back, she stuffed her burning hand into her dress pockets and crept forward. If she happened upon Moiraine and Lan on the way all the better, so long as they didn't punish her for leaving the tree. Maybe they could be grateful, Yillana thought, trying to picture the unlikely sight as she sidestepped a crooked branch, scanning for signs of her travelling companions. If she found them wounded or stuck she could ride for help - on Aldieb of course. The grumpy warhorse with the stupid name that Lan rode would sooner eat her even if she tried to save the only person the beast liked.

"They're probably dead," Merlin's voice said, ringing in the back of her head, and though she did not want to admit it the further Yillana walked the more likely Mother’s door post spoke true. Another dent in the earth forced her to make a wider loop, taking her further from the tree line. She eventually gave into fear and began searching the ground for signs of the Aes Sedai's blue dress or any part of Lan. The Malkiari would take whatever they could get, then they would birch her for killing their king. Wondering if the White Tower would care about Moiraine's demise and if she could hide there to escape the Borderlanders’ wrath, Yillana pulled aside a final branch as she reached the treeline when a flash of colour caught the corner of her eye. Darting in the opposite direction the rapidly moving shape, hued in blue similar to Moiraine, slowed just enough for Yillana to identify it as human and by its size, very close to hers - a child.

What was a child doing out here, she thought? Anyone who found Yillana might have asked the same question, but not everyone travelled with an Aes Sedai and they were days from the nearest settlement - besides the last farm they passed. Yillana swallowed, remembering charred bodies, and rubbed her pocket’s hand against her legs, palms a little shaky and still burning. Maybe someone escaped; she liked to think she would have, and now just like her they were stuck, but without even the smallest chance of being rescued.

Moiraine and Lan wouldn't mind another travelling companion, she decided after turning around to follow the fleeting shape, catching a glimpse of the blue dress bobbing between uprooted trees. Aes Sedai were supposed to be servants of all, so reason said Moiraine couldn't scold her for saving an unfortunate, while a small part of her hoped-for slightly better conversation and an audience for stories.

Wary of any remaining Shadowspawn, be they Trollocs or the sinister voice, Yillana did not call to the girl who, aware of being followed, ran behind a split log and did not reemerge. Crouching behind the tree, intent on taking the stranger by surprise so she didn't have time to run, Yillana gathered her skirts and burst around the corner, ready to tackle her like she did Gren only to find a body face down and twitching feebly.

Nymph and Gren fooled her like this many times, baiting her, knowing that once she heard something she would not let it go; that's how they’d convinced her to try sneaking into the Blight and to steal Lan's ring. Wool-brained fools the both of them Nymph used to play dead, Gren his weeping accomplice, that was until a boy was actually found dead and no one believed it until two more corpses followed the next night. That this girl, alive and running one moment then stone-cold the next, could be nothing more than a cruel trick compelled Yillana to shake her, jostling the body with her foot. A low moan, muffled by the leaves preceded a full-body tremor, her hand flopping over revealing a red and black palm. The pattern of blood and dirt continued up the rest of her exposed arm and over her back, visible through the charred remnants of the dress and confirming Yillana's suspicion and her sheepish guilt. Normal people did not fake being injured.

A hand replaced her foot as she gently nudged the girl, rocking her back and forth to try and coax out any signs of life, yet the more she tried the less response she received until Yillana had no choice but to turn her over. Careful to avoid her numerous injuries, the fabric of the stranger's dress ripped as Yillana hauled her upward and she collapsed onto the girl, inches from her blank face. Panting with the effort she made to rise but found she could not. Far too strong for her size the girl, still comatose, had her legs wrapped with Yillana's, pinning her to the ground, clamping down harder if she struggled. Jerking backwards wildly she fought her confinement confused until a dry hiss emitted by the corpse brought everything into sharp focus, a pressure building in her fingertips white-hot and growing, fueled by fear and anger.

That hiss became a weak call for help, then a scream until finally the voice just laughed louder and louder while the girl, her face dead and blank, continued to squeeze. Driving the breath from her lungs Yillana screamed, terrified as she felt herself slipping away, not understanding anything other than the blinding need for air and the unbearable pressure. Arching her back and straining for air the child pulled her down once more, but Yillana dug an elbow into her sternum, pushing herself even higher, her face tipped towards the sky and shockingly she kept going.
Suddenly, flung backwards by a new force that felt similar to a hand grabbing her hair, the ground became a patchy green canopy. Yillana, free to breathe, let out a ragged sob as a familiar hand and then a shocking cold settled on her forehead.

+++++

"Moiraine, her hands."

Yillana grumbled and tried to pull her palms away, but something much stronger held fast to her wrists while a light touch separated her fingers.

"Untainted," Moiraine answered, head cocked to the side while examining her and watching Lan, who looked down, nodded in acknowledgment, and then strode off towards the horses.

Slipping in and out of focus the Aes Sedai did solidify long enough for Yillana to register her hands being cleaned, followed by a sudden warmth as she was tucked against the Warder's chest and then bundled onto a horse. "Until nightfall, Gaidin," Moiraine stated, with a low rumble that could have been agreement or dissent serving as Lan's response. The sun still hung in the sky when Yillana was pulled from the saddle and laid down beneath a rough wooden roof.

"You need sleep," Lan said, not directed at her but like Moiraine, who let out an exasperated breath, Yillana did not want to close her eyes for fear of what she might find.

"I should ward her dreams," Moiraine replied.

"And when she is asleep I will wake you, but until then…"
They fell silent, though Moiraine's footfalls were a little heavier as if to stomp in protest while Lan rolled out a blanket, covering his Aes Sedai when she finally lay down, asleep in minutes.

+++++

"Is she alright?"

The same musty horse blanket wrapped over her head, insulating Yillana from the cold rain, she stood beside Lan, the Warder sitting beneath their shelter Moiraine between him and the fire.

"She needs sleep," he responded.

Yillana moved closer, looking down on the Aes Sedai, half-illuminated in the poor light. Usually pale, Moraine's complexion now closely resembled a ghost. With all Aes Sedai agelessness stripped away she looked weary even as she slept, the hard lines that marked Lan's face somehow echoed on her own.

"She looks dead," Yillana whispered, not meant to be heard but Lan still did, her voice loud in the small shelter. He momentarily turned his attention from the rainy blackness to glare at Yillana.
Drawing her blanket further over her head she watched him out of the corner of her eye moving further to the back of the shelter to hide the shiver that ran up her spine and made her teeth rattle.

Looking down at Moiraine as Yillana backed away and then back up at her his expression changed minutely. Indifference, then anger, and then what looked like concern maybe, though his brow was always furrowed. The only difference was in his eyes. If she focused on them Yillana could bring herself to understand the reason he sat so close to Moiraine and his reaction to her mention of death.

"I'm sorry," she spoke to his back once the Warder turned, arranging herself on the mat with as much distance between them as possible.

"You need sleep," he said, the quiet suggestion similar to how he addressed his Aes Sedai.

Yillana made a face, the prospect of sleep and accompanying dreams the last thing she wanted to experience after today. Awake, at least she could see what crept towards her.

"You'd have to wake Moiraine," she reasoned, not wanting to let the Warder know the full extent of her fear. "and you want her to sleep."

"Moiraine Sedai would not insist on warding your dreams if it was not necessary," Lan spoke to the fire, nudging a smoking branch with his foot. "I will wake her if I must."

"Well, she can stay sleeping," Yillana mumbled, squirming around in her blankets, feeling like a bird rooting around in a drafty nest. "Light knows I never want to close my eyes again."

A low hum his only response, Lan readjusted Moraine to account for the change in rain direction, the droplets now slanting towards their shelter, and continued systematically scanning the darkness. Mirroring his minute movements Yillana wondered if he could really see beyond their circle of light, or if the pattern was simply a method to stay awake. Six days and she hadn't seen Lan close his eyes once; maybe he was more amicable, or at least a little more talkative, after a rest.

Sure she would not have that answer tonight or ever, Yillana attempted to find her own distractions as the night dragged on. Counting knots in the rough timber overhead quickly devolved to darting discarded pieces of bark at the ceiling, some of which flew past their appointed target to settle in Lan's hair. Quickly laid to rest lest the Warder found another way to pitch her off a horse Yillana tried counting her fingers, then her toes, making it to well over one hundred before her hands turned into those of the girls, black and red and curled like claws.

Palms burning at the memory Yillana rubbed them frantically on her dress breathing heavily through her nose as she closed her eyes, willing the blood to be gone when they opened. Many minutes later, the terror of her imagination and memory tamped down, Yillana again counted her fingers, relieved but now aware of the Warder watching her over his shoulder, alerted by her distressed shuffling.

"I'll be quiet," she hissed, hoping to sound annoyed rather than scared.

Raising an eyebrow Lan turned back around and reached to the far side of the shelter for a blanket often used by Moiraine. Folding the thick fabric over itself so it could act as a cushion, he placed the blanket beside him, giving the spot a firm pat that Yillana took for an invitation.

Settling in her appointed spot she bounced up and down, determining if the rest of the night was spent like this she would be very comfortable. Between the fire, her cushion and the company, quiet as it may have been, the Warder's attempt at distraction looked to be working - only with small comfort came a new restlessness. Her immediate death was now out of her mind but that left room for other worries, not to mention the treacherous droop of her eyelids as she watched the fire. In other circumstances she would’ve started talking, since Nymph and Gren's constant if not always enthusiastic participation in her storytelling more often than not left her in stitches. Tonight, however, she had a different audience.

Letting out a long exhale Yillana shuffled round on her blanket to face Lan, sure he would look her way eventually. When the Warder met her stare Yillana tried to smile. "Can I tell you a story?" she asked.

Lan blinked - had she surprised him? The expression was reminiscent of the one Moiraine gave her when she asked about the Aes Sedai's mother.

"It's about home," Yillana continued.

"Your home?" Lan asked.

"No." Yillana looked down at Moraine, then up at him. "It's about yours."

The Warder was at once very still. Yillana rushed ahead, knowing she was on the verge of losing her audience "It's not a sad story, though Merlin calls it second-hand news. It's about the lakes…" Yillana paused; she could not think of the name.

"The Thousand Lakes," Lan interjected, no longer as cold but still warry. Yillana realized she would have her work cut out for her.

"Yes," she nodded enthusiastically. "It's a story about a king falling into the lake and there's a badger involved. According to Merlin, my father witnessed the whole thing when he was a boy, which means it’s only mostly true."

Chapter Text

One terse conversation, an abrupt change of direction, and five days of hard riding finally took them out of Shienar. Sparse brush and flat plains gave way to large clumps of trees and rolling hills, then a sudden influx of people. Wide-eyed despite her fatigue Yillana watched caravans and carriages pass, Lan being kind enough to drop his elbows and allow her a better view when they slowed down. Caught amidst a crowd they were shuffled and pushed across a narrow bridge, though no one dared come too close. Even amidst the chaos Aes Sedai and Warder drew plenty of wary looks, many bordering on hostile but neither showed any concern. After the scorched earth they left behind, Yillana was sure simple distrusting villagers meant little.

The road took a steep dip after the bridge and forked, one path winding and the other straight. They chose the smaller of the two, a dirt track twisting up, then down, then finally opening into a valley. Nestled at its mouth a singular stone arch denoted the entrance to a town.
"There's no wall," Yillana remarked, tipping her head back and forth to see if the necessary fortifications were simply hidden amongst the numerous trees.

"You'll find many things are different now that we've left the Borderlands," Moiraine answered, glancing over her shoulder

Yillana wrinkled her nose, the reminder they were that much closer to her destination a sore point. This far from home people were different and she'd just gotten used to Lan and Moiraine's company.

"How much further?" Yillana called, but Moiraine, pulled away from them slightly by the crowd, did not hear and continued down the main road.

"A month - maybe more," Lan responded, his voice quiet despite the noise since she sat so close.

Yillana looked up at the Warder. He thought she meant Tar Valon but the White Tower was a distant concern; the object of her fear was much closer at hand. Pointing down a random street Yillana caught herself before she grabbed the reins. "Couldn't you take a wrong turn?”

Lan shook his head and focused across the street, maneuvering Mandarb between two carts to catch up with Moiraine, who halted Aldieb in front of a shop of no description, unadorned with even so much as a sign. Passing Moiraine a brief look, the Aes Sedai nodded and Lan helped Yillana down, then dismounted himself.

"Follow Moiraine," he said, pointing to the shop where the Blue had already walked up the wooden steps, her hand on the door while waiting for Yillana to catch up.

Hands clenched in her pockets, Yillana took a small step forward and then rocked back on her heels, momentarily overwhelmed. Moiraine had prepared her for this; she explained why it was necessary, but Yillana had little faith in her own ability to tell what was real anymore.

Moiraine beckoned again as the door now opened and an older woman with greying hair spoke to the Aes Sedai, then smiled out at Yillana.

With a hand on her back, Lan pushed her into motion while his horse, despite Yillana holding her arms tight to her side, still did his best to catch a stray limb. With the looming danger of teeth marks, motivation enough Yillana hurried, along taking the steps two at a time, happy the narrow porch allowed her to hide behind the Aes Sedai despite her height. Tall and inviting as Moiraine was aloof and short the woman chuckled, waving a greeting to Lan, still out on the street, as she pushed the door further open and ushered them inside.

+++++

"Where did Moiraine Sedai find you?"

Yillana flinched as the wise woman addressed her. She had already been offered a seat in a much-worn chair, as well as a cup of tea that, while not drunk, kept her hand from shaking. 

"Fal Dara," she replied.

The woman raised a grey eyebrow. "You've come a long way, and with a pair not known for picking up travelling companions I might add."

Moiraine cleared her throat and tapped her toe on the floor, but the woman only laughed and Yillana heard the Aes Sedai let out a quiet burst of air. The two were obviously friends.

Looking down at Yillana the wise woman tapped the side of her nose and smiled. "I'm sworn to secrecy every time Moiraine Sedai comes to visit, but unless you're hiding a serpent ring in your pocket I would ask for your name - you may call me Ura.”

Yillana swallowed and whispered her name, looking down at her full teacup.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," Ura replied, her voice low and warm as she pulled up a chair to sit across from Yillana. "May I ask how old you are?"

Yillana continued to watch the cloudy liquid. "Twelve."

"Do you know why Moiraine Sedai brought you here?"

Yillana closed her eyes, unable to look at her hands lest they turned red like the girl in the forest. She eventually managed a nod.
“We are vulnerable when we sleep, and the Shadow is strong in the night,” was all Moiraine would tell her when Yillana asked if she was cursed. She insisted this woman would have questions - difficult ones, ones she would not want to answer but that she must anyway. As to whether the source of her nightmares and visions was the work of a shadow or a dark figment of her imagination, Moiraine was equally cryptic. Shaken and confused, the Aes Sedai’s plan was an easy thing to agree to if it could offer any relief, and at the time the meeting was days away. Now the panic Yillana felt at the prospect of reliving that terror froze her tongue and leeched all the warmth from her limbs.

Wanting to curl into a ball and hide her face but with no place to set her tea, Yillana forced her eyes open and scuttled back in her chair, trying for a hostile expression. Ura appeared to understand the intent and picked up her chair to back it across the room, well out of arm’s reach. She looked neither annoyed nor inclined to mock, nor did she radiate the hard-edged concern Yillana experienced from Lan and Moiraine in their last few days of travel.

The Wise Woman also chose another topic of conversation, pointing out Yillana's hair and dress, both clean after a fashion but travel-worn. "A bath is often just the thing to relax," she offered, pointing to indicate a washbasin. "and I have a dress just about your size."

Yillana caught herself before she accepted the wonderful idea, realizing the woman thought her too weak to help. Moiraine never said as much, but her actions made it clear that if Yillana did not recover enough, the rest of her journey to Tar Valon would be unpleasant.
"I'm not afraid."
The lie the frightened young girl spoke was far from her best and Ura, being no fool, saw clear through it, but rather than admonish Yillana for her falsity the wise woman smiled.

"I should hope not, child. A little soap and water never hurt anyone." She turned to the Aes Sedai. "And I'm sure Moiraine Sedai would be willing to leave you in my care for the evening."

+++++

"How are you feeling, Yillana?"

Yillana looked up from her tea, the cup still full as it always was. Most days she ended up tossing the contents out the window when Ura wasn't looking, yet every time the wise woman offered she accepted. Holding it gave her hands something to do.

"Better,” she answered; it was only half a lie. During the day Yillana no longer worried she would look down and find phantom blood on her hands, but even with Ura to ward her dreams most nights she woke terrified or was too scared to close her eyes at all. The Wise Woman had yet to find a concoction to knock her out completely.

"An answer befitting an Aes Sedai," Ura smirked as she tucked into her own chair a little more than a foot away. The teapot sat on a small table beside the wise woman, a matching cup cradled in her hand. While Yillana could barely manage a sip, Ura usually finished a whole pot while they talked.

"At least I come by it honestly," Yillana replied, defensive. The wise woman had no trouble pointing out when someone tried to sidestep a question.

Ura chuckled. "I guess you do. Moiraine Sedai is something of a walking mystery."

"But you seem to know her well."

The Wise Woman raised an eyebrow and Yillana sat straighter pleased with how she'd directed the conversation.
"Walked into that one, didn't I?" Ura remarked as she tapped the side of her cup.

Just as Moiraine said she would, Ura shied away from nothing, save what a Knitting Circle had to do with the Wise Woman’s use of the One Power, and with each day Yillana told her a little more. For every answer Ura received, no matter its quality, Yillana could ask a question in return. How an Aes Sedai befriended a village Wise Woman confused her from the start, and she was glad for the presence of mind to ask in a manner that assured some type of answer.

"I met Moiraine Sedai many years ago," Ura explained as she sipped her tea. "Lan just about knocked down my door in the dead of night, the woman cradled in his arms like a little porcelain doll."

"They were in a fight?" Yillana asked, remembering the Aes Sedai asleep beside the fire, pale and so still she seemed dead, Lan unable to hide his concern even as he listened to her story.

"I believe so but remember," the Wise Woman held a finger to her lips "sworn to secrecy."

"Oh I won't tell," Yillana assured; she could keep a secret and there had to be more to the story. If Moiraine insisted her mother's healing was best left to a Yellow Sister, why take Yillana to a Wise Woman? 

The only problem was that Ura wasn't convinced, and now it was her turn to ask a question. "Tell me about your dream last night." 

Yillana pulled her legs beneath her and hissed, though she knew Ura would ask. Of the week spent with the Wise Woman, this episode had been the worst.
"Same as always," she said, an outright lie, but if Ura knew the truth Yillana would never get to leave.

"Your screams would say otherwise."

"I dreamt about my mother."

"And what did your mother say?"

Looking down at her cup Yillana considered how to answer. If she took too long Ura would assume she lied, if her response came too quickly another question would follow.
"She told me to come home," she finally said; it was the truth, but omitted much. Elise had begged her daughter to come home but her mother's image also wore mourning whites, then threw itself out a window while laughing maniacally.

"Do you want to go home?"

That's three questions, Yillana thought; Ura often lost count. "No. I must go to Tar Valon,"

Ura nodded slowly, taking in her answer, weighing its honesty, then gestured with her cup. "Your turn."

"What did you do for Moiraine? Why does she trust you?"

The Wise Woman smirked. "Are you implying she shouldn't?"

Yillana scowled, annoyed by the obtuse answer and Ura relented. "I did much for her what I am trying to do for you," she continued.

"Did it work?"

Tapping the side of her cup Ura let out a long breath and considered how to answer. Yillana wondered if she wasn't regretting their deal of exchanging questions.

"Healing of this nature is something of a cyclical process," Ura eventually replied. "and work half done is easily undone."

Yillana leaned forward, she didn't understand "then it didn't work?"

Ura shook her head, pouring another cup of tea that she downed in one gulp. "Not quite, child, but you needn't worry for yourself."

+++++

Sleep was something of a bargaining process. The first night she closed her eyes after the voice and visions, Moiraine warded her dreams and Yillana slept without incident. In the morning she woke content, if not a little cold, and made to tuck her hands beneath the blanket but instead of the rough blue fabric, everything was red and black and the little girl's hands covered in gore were her own. No amount of willpower or imagination could take the vision away like before, and a healing weave calmed the worst of her hysterics but that night Moiraine could do little when Yillana woke up screaming. Still on horseback, pushing hard for the border Mandarb bolted, eyes rolling as the Warder fought to turn them off the road.

Yillana remembered little of that episode save the sinister voice being particularly domineering. In every dream since the voice spoke as a mother before dissolving into hysterics. She tried to bargain, convince the voice to let her be - it only laughed. Now with Ura on her side, armed with sleeping tea and support to face her fear in daylight, the voice quieted, but no concoction silenced the familiar wails outright.

Tonight, woken as the voice dressed as her mother began to hiss of death, Yillana pressed her face to the dusty window to watch the deserted street. Taking in an excited breath she recognized the two horses tethered beside Ura's shop. Gone for the better part of a week Yillana began to think they'd abandoned her, the inconvenience she caused greater than any need to deliver her for training. Seeing Aldieb and Mandarb brought a smile to her face; it also reminded Yillana of the carrots tucked in the pocket of her spare dress. Ura seemed worldly enough to know a thing or two about horses and confidently suggested when Yillana inquired that these fickle animals were food motivated, and a carrot could be an effective bargaining tool.

Yillana considered testing that claim with the many cart horses that trundled by Ura's shop each morning, but wary of making a fool of herself she had yet to approach one. Now the real objects of her inquiry were standing outside, alone - what better time to offer up her gift of goodwill, to the Warder's horse especially?

With the same blanket she'd used when travelling wrapped around most of her body and over her head, Yillana crept down the hall. Light leaked beneath the door to Ura's room along with the low hum of voices, Wise Woman and Aes Sedai talking into the late hours. There was no sign of Lan, but still, Yillana made sure to look both ways and behind her when she finally made it downstairs and out the side door.

Snorting as she approached, the Aes Sedai's mare eyed her expectantly while Mandarb gave her a look similar to the ones Lan granted when she asked too many questions.

"Hello, friend. I thought you left me," Yillana whispered to Aldieb as she stroked the mare's nose, pulling the first carrot from her pocket. Used to treats or smart enough to know human attention denoted food the carrot disappeared moments after it was offered. 

Pleased with her success Yillana turned to the warhorse. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the second carrot and held it out towards Mandarb. Her face reflected in his black eyes, Yillana scowled when he sniffed her offering and pulled back. Confused at his refusal - Aldieb took no offence to the food - Yillana stepped closer, waving the vegetable in the horse's face.

"Don't give me that." His ears flicked in response: The damn thing was listening to her. "Just take the carrot."

Unconvinced, possibly offended at her offer, Mandarb snapped his teeth and Yillana jumped back. "Fine then!" she said as she waved the carrot, admonishing the horse for his behaviour then making a show of presenting the treat to Aldieb.

Giving the war horse a final long look, trying to impress on the beast that this was not over, Yillana repositioned the blanket around her shoulders, shook the dirt from its dragging ends and stomped back to the shop.

One hand on the bannister as she muttered to herself, Yillana turned to give the horse one more look when something small and hard flew out of the night and hit her arm. Insulated by her blanket it didn't hurt but the impact made Yillana sit down and then spring to her feet when a shadow moved to become Lan. The king of Malkier materialized in the poor light, seemingly amused by her reaction, and bent down to pick up the object Yillana realized he'd just thrown and lobbed it gently in her direction.

Prepared Yillana caught the object - an… apple? - and held it up. "Are you well?" she addressed the Warder very confused.

"Moiraine's been sneaking him apples for years. You might have better luck," Lan replied, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

Studying the fruit, Yillana looked between it and the Warder before making her way over to Mandarb, the apple held at arm's length.

"Keep your palm flat," Lan instructed when she finally held the apple under the horse's nose. Sniffing her new offer the war horse immediately looked pleased and in one chomp her hand was empty, the silly animal looking for a second helping before he finished chewing his first.

Very pleased, Yillana kept her hand out and Mandarb blew on her palm allowing her to gently scratch his nose. "There you go, idiot" she whispered. "You just pretend not to like anyone."

Snorting, possibly in agreement, Mandarb stomped his hoof and Lan's hand came to rest on her shoulder. "Best leave him be. He might still show teeth."

Allowing herself to be turned Yillana readjusted her blanket, smiling at the victory. Light willing the rest of her journey would be more pleasant. An apple a day and she would never have to worry about lost fingers or the threat of teeth marks on her ankles, but for her plan to work -

"Where did you find the apple?" Yillana inquired, hoping the Warder's strange mood would produce a useful answer.

Raising an eyebrow Lan read her intentions instantly. "Moiraine," he replied, all amusement aside making it very clear what he thought of Yillana stealing anything from his Aes Sedai, even if it was just an apple. For Yillana, that simply complicated things - she wasn't very likely to convince Moiraine to give up anything short of theft, and the Wise Woman only dealt in carrots.

Deep in thought pondering her options, Yillana trundled up the steps behind Lan as the outside cool was exchanged for the stuffy interior of Ura's shop. The atmosphere instantly detached her from the absurd joy of stealing apples while light under Ura's door served as a further reminder that her plans would die if either woman did not think her well enough.

As she sat on her bed and picked up the half-drank cup of Ura's latest concoction, a mix of valerian, chamomile and something called forkroot, Yillana listened to the low hum of voices rise momentarily as Lan entered Ura's study. She couldn't make out words and there was no guarantee he would mention anything about their interaction, but the fact she awoke said enough. When Ura asked about her dream tomorrow she didn’t want to lie; she would much rather tell the story of how she befriended the grumpy warhorse, so plugging her nose Yillana downed the rest of the foul liquid and wished for dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

"Tell me about your mother."

Yillana looked up from her teacup, by this stage only filled with water. Ura silently handed her one now whenever they spoke, realizing it was a source of comfort.

"You call her Elise," the Wise Woman continued.

Yillana swallowed and held Ura's gaze, trying not to curl in on herself and hiss like every time before. Just as the Knitting Circle provided a mute response from Ura, any mention of Elise locked her jaw. If the Wise Woman knew too much she would think Yillana a lost cause. In that recognition lay her greatest fear, and she would rather die than have Merlin stand at her door for the rest of his life.

"Yillana," Ura called again, her voice further away than before. In response Yillana blinked the Wise Woman now sat on the other side of the room.

Despite her best efforts, she seemed to have contorted into a ball and slowly unfolded her limbs. Ura never pushed, at least never beyond what she thought Yillana could handle, and she never provoked any fear, unlike most people she could think of. Merlin, for all she mouthed off to him, terrified her with his inaction, and Elise was too unpredictable to leave her anything other than scared and sad. As for Lan and Moiraine while she had no doubt they were good people, neither Aes Sedai nor Warder were particularly comforting.

Lost in her own mind the Wise Woman acted as anchor and confidant, not unlike Nymph and Gren, though Yillana quickly realized her advice came with fewer conditions. If she could trust those two weasels to keep an eye on Elise, could Ura be trusted with anything that resembled the truth?

"Yillana," the Wise Woman repeated as she sat forward in her chair.

"What do you want to know?" The words spit out quickly so she couldn't take them back; a decision had been made.

Ura blinked, grey eyebrows disappearing into her hair and poured herself another cup of tea. "You call your mother Elise," she said, revisiting her first question, slightly off from her relaxed, attentive nature

Tapping the cup Yillana nodded. "Yes, or ‘mother’ on her better days."

Ura took a sip, Yillana swallowed. She knew that meant for her to go on but she couldn't.

"Who is Ginny?" she continued. It was a gentle push.

"My dead sister. Mother forgets my name and calls me after her."

"How did she die?"

Yillana shrugged. "I don't know."

Nodding slowly as if the answer disturbed her, Ura continued on. "You told me your mother is sick. Why do you say that?"

This she'd never had to explain - anyone who heard Elise just knew. So close to the Blight her mother wasn't the only one who saw shadows in the daylight. "She has no memory,” Yillana said. “is as skittish as a squirrel. She sees shadows in people's eyes and screams about the Dark One."

"What about voices?" Ura prompted

Yillana stuck out her tongue, that being a particularly sour memory "The voice tells her to jump. Merlin thinks it’s all in her head, that Elise wants to die, that she's cursed.”

"What do you think?"

"My mother is sick." Yillana ground the word between her teeth, the response a reminder of the many times she had to defend her this way.

"Do you think she wants to die?"

"No."

This made Ura smile, a thin expression that didn't reach her eye, she poured more tea. "Your turn."

Looking down at the clear liquid then up at Ura Yillana opened her mouth, then closed it again as the rush of what she just said came crashing over her.

She screams at the Dark One and sees shadows in people's eyes.

"Am I cursed?" Yillana finally croaked, cold as the words left her mouth.

The Wise Woman let out a small breath, as though the question drove the air from her lungs, and set down her cup. Slowly, making her intentions clear Ura moved closer, now within arms reach and extended a hand. "I don't know child," her voice warm and low, but for the first time it brought no comfort.

Yillana looked down, blinking back tears. Moiraine gave her the same answer, but their hasty travel told her more than enough and since then it had been one fear after the next.

"But you are safe here, safe as you can be,". It was an unexpected promise, one the Aes Sedai could not make and truth be told, Yillana thought, Ura probably lied. Encased in false apathy despite her tears she tried to ignore the warmth radiating from her friend, but no one had offered safety in a long time. Sure she would regret it later, a quiet voice hissing of a bad idea, she accepted the Wise Woman's hand anyway and let herself cry.

+++++

"A touch of normalcy," Ura called it when she led Yillana into a dusty upstairs room the next day. Squinting in the poor light the cramped space was suddenly thrown into full daylight, revealing a bed frame and mattress along one wall and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on the other. Tightly packed together the monochrome tomes blended into a wall of gold lettering, each familiar title a story attached to a memory that made Yillana smile. Running her fingers over the worn spines as she let Yillana explore, Ura busied herself collecting volumes from the higher shelves and rearranging them on the mattress.

"You can read whatever you wish," the Wise Woman said as she beckoned her over to the displayed titles. "but I've pulled some from the higher shelves you might enjoy."

Arranged end to end The Tales of Jain Farstrider, this edition in much better shape than her mother's shared the same cover as the two-volumed Compact of the Ten Nations: A History sitting next to it. Beside that lay a slim volume titled Natural History: Kandor, Arafel,Saldana, Sheinar & Malkier. 

"There is another on horse care," Ura said as and passed her a green leatherbound, worn and many times dog eared. "Then my personal favourite," she held up a maroon cover with no title whatsoever.

Unsure how the Wise Woman knew she liked to read but not about to forgo such generosity, Yillana accepted the unnamed volume. "Mabriam en Shereed" she read, tripping over the unfamiliar name.

"A great Aes Sedai," Ura smiled. "Negotiator, diplomat, and Ta'veren."

"Were you friends?" Yillana asked, flipping through the yellow pages. If Ura knew one Aes Sedai, what was to say she didn't have more friends she couldn't tell anyone about?

The Wise Woman laughed. "No child, Mabriam lived over a thousand years ago, but now that I think of it you may be more interested in this woman."

Motioning for her to hand the book back, Ura exchanged it for another green book, this one titled “ The Legend of Caraighan Manconar .”

Ura nodded. "A fearless soldier of the Light, and something of a reckless woman depending on who you ask - Everything a Green should be."

Yillana eyed the Wise Woman. "I guess you didn't know her either."

"Much before my time," Ura sighed wistfully. "but I doubt we would have gotten along if we had."

"But you think I would?" Yillana wondered, squinting at the tiny faded type, finding her friend's reverence for people long dead strange and Ura's impression of her personality even more so.

Annoyed as she suddenly understood the implication Yillana snapped the book shut. "Are you calling me reckless?" She pointed the volume at the Wise Woman who, to her greater confusion, seemed neither surprised nor unprepared for her question. Nothing she'd done in the week since meeting Ura could be considered remotely so.

Her smile turned to a smirk when Yillana took a firm step forward. "And how do you know I like to read?" the young girl added.

Tapping the book held to her chest Ura turned a delighted circle, swishing her dress and laughing softly, for a moment very young in her joy despite the grey hair. "I was told you were full of stories, questions, and trouble, and since we both know neither of your travelling companions are ones for unnecessary conversation I assume you must get your stories from somewhere."

"But how did you-" Yillana cut herself off, confusion turning to shock, then anger, then suspicion. "How much did they tell you?"

Still cradling her book Ura shrugged, then tapped the side of her nose. "Sworn to secrecy. But" Ura caught Yillana's response before it left her mouth "if you're ever in a tight spot again, I advise you to throw something heavier than a chair."

+++++

Awash in new stories but with no one to tell, Ura sought to continue her exercises in normalcy by introducing Yillana to the neighbour children. Much smaller than Nymph and Gren in both size and imagination, Cyril and Harriet, brother and his little sister, were an attentive if confused audience who would rather she climb to return their ball tossed in the adjacent yard than hear about the Comaidin Riots. Nevertheless, Yillana enjoyed the company of people she didn't have to crane her neck to talk to, and racing amongst the houses pretending she was a hawk chasing Harriet the rabbit reminded her of the world beyond sinister voices and bad dreams.

Too heavy to carry in her pockets despite the apron Ura provided Yillana could not constantly read Caraighan Sedai's biography, but between bouts pretending to be a bird or when giving Harriet and Cyril time to hide in cat and mouse, she flipped through the volume on natural history. Finding further evidence of Moiraine and Lan's betrayal - the two chapters covering Shienar and Malkier were marked. Ura also underlined a third section stating that badgers were not often found in Malkier and that much of the plant and animal life began to die off in the forty years preceding the country's fall. If her story about the badger and the pond made it to the Wise Woman, then the numerous other tales she'd weaved and questions she'd asked in bad taste informed her friend's opinion of her. It also meant that the Aes Sedai and Warder were listening and thought what she said important enough to tell Ura, regardless of their obvious annoyance. Yillana concluded she would forgo seeking recompense for their breach of confidence, if only for the fact she rather enjoyed not being ignored.

Poor mice to her alley cat both Harriet and Cyril gave themselves away long before Yillana had to put any effort into searching. With the two cornered and a promise to tell them about the time she almost snuck into the Blight, brother and sister let her recount a recently memorized tale before their mother, a tall willowy woman with hair well past her belt, called them inside. Waving at Yillana but not trusting enough of the Wise Woman to invite her charge in for lunch, Yillana found herself alone on the street, wind ruffling her hair and the freedom to go where she wished so long as she was back before Ura noticed.

Emboldened by her readings of fearless Aes Sedai and with the knowledge this town was much safer than the fortress back home, Yillana chose a direction at random, intent on an adventure. Careful to mark the street corner where the shop sat to ensure she could find her way back, a turn left, then right, and then a long walk down a covered bridge took her to another quarter of the town with wider streets and tall houses. Strolling down the cobbled thoroughfare Yillana soon realized she was being watched by a gaggle of children congregated under a tree. Sat in a circle they ideally passed a ball between them, taking turns chancing hasty glances her way when they thought she wasn't looking. Laughing at their sudden flurry to pretend interest in the game as Yillana made her way towards them, a tall boy and his equally tall sister - they looked too much alike to not be family - didn't bother to pretend and broke from the group.

Sizing her up, arms crossed over her chest, the girl stuck an elbow into her brother's ribs, trying to disguise it as a faint stumble when he leaned forward offering his hand in greeting. "Who are you?"

Appreciating her directness if not the poorly veiled hostility, Yillana met her frosty expression with a scowl. "Ginny," she replied, holding the girl's stare. "Who are you?"

Put out by Yillana's response the girl did not answer, but elbowed her brother a second time and stepped closer. Smiling in the silence, Yillana glanced from the girl to the circle of children, all noticeably smaller than the brother and sister but just as richly dressed. Whether they were merchants or nobility Yillana couldn't tell, but she must have looked quite the peasant in her plain dress and pocketed apron.

Lip caught between her teeth her would-be adversary lost much in the way of intimidation despite her height. No doubt frustrated by Yillana's lack of fear she eventually related any further attempts at intimidation and offered her hand. "Isole." 

Yillana nodded, accepting her stately welcome as if she were in a court rather than under a tree, Isole's intent, she supposed, if she couldn't scare a newcomer off.

Given permission by her actions, the boy all but knocked his sister's hand away, shaking hers with friendly vigour. "I'm Hennet. Where are you from?"

"Across the river," she replied, echoing his enthusiasm; Hennet reminded her of Nymph.

"I've never been across the river," one of the smaller children squeaked, leaving the circle to stand between Hennet and Isole.

"And for good reason," the tall girl hissed and pushed the child back, throwing Yillana a haughty stare.

"Where across the river do you live?" Hennet asked, further emboldened by the little ones' enquiry, ignoring his sister.

"With the Wise Woman. I'm her apprentice," Yillana heard herself reply, the lie easy as breathing.

A chorus of enthusiastic questions drowned out the rest of her fib, as the remaining small children crowded around Isole and Hennet. "Are you a witch? Can you turn people into toads? can you fly?” were all questions she would have asked before her tricks appeared, and in that Yillana realized the value of their curiosity. She came looking for an adventure, and what better than to play into the mystery?

Trying to corral her charges Isole sniffed and sputtered, finally silencing them enough to face Yillana. "I don't believe you."

Now Isole reminded her of Gren. "Do you want proof?" she said, addressing brother and sister as she would her friends back home. It was not lost on Yillana that she'd been in a similar position before and she remembered well the outcome, but she'd learned her lesson and it wasn't so much of a fib as an extension of the truth. Yillana lived with Ura for now, and the Wise Woman would surely be amiable to showing the village children around. "If you like, I can take you there."

Her suggestion appealing to Hennet and the small ones, Isole eventually had to relent under the pressure, allowing Yillana and her brother to lead their party towards the river.

Chapter Text

Yillana should have left well enough alone, but when the shopkeeper took the bait and mistakenly pulled Isole in for Yillana's crime she couldn't help but feel the girl deserved it, owing to her haughty attitude. Setting to work amidst the commotion the smaller children played their part well, but Hennet panicked. Flustered by the apparent crime and the scene she made adamantly denying it, the boy jumped to his sister's aid and began throwing around his father's name. An important man of some description, the apple seller was quick to release Isole, who with the snap of an adder threw their plan further out the window by turning to point a long finger at Yillana - only to find no one listening.

Recognizing a sinking ship and under sufficient stress, her tricks did not elude her and before anyone saw her face, the merchant and his fellow vendors were desperately trying to smother flames consuming the wagon's cloth awning. Calling for water from the river and sand from the blacksmith to contain the blaze Yillana slipped through the press of villagers, grabbed Isole, Hennet, and their little charges, and made for the bridge.

Once on the other side, only a few turns from Ura's shop Yillana finally stopped and pulled the party into an empty doorway.
"Alright, empty your pockets," Yillana wheezed, trying to catch her breath. Between the running and her tricks she felt too lightheaded for anger, they'd escaped, and that was what mattered. The two children, beaming with pride, obediently offered up whatever apples they swiped.

She next turned to Hennet. "Did you catch any?"

The older boy looked to his sister, wincing as she gave him a pinched stare. "Only two," he confessed, trying for guilt but unable to hide his smile.

"And you?" she said to Isole, sure the girl would have nothing owing to her attempt at sabotage. Nose stuck in the air, trying to raise herself far above petty theft, Isole proved herself no better than the rest as she held out two apples. Pointedly ignoring Hennet’s snicker she expressed no remorse for any of her actions nor any judgment for theirs, and kept silent when Yillana collected their spoils; A respectable eight to add to the three Yillana swiped. Her accomplices got one apiece with Yillana taking the remaining seven, enough to last for a fortnight if she cut them in half. The war horse may have felt cheated, though he should’ve been grateful. A few apples were not worth a burnt shop, and hopefully the fire would have fizzled out by when she left.

On edge but too woozy to stand, Yillana pretended to recount and consider each apple before handing them out, then slowly stuffed her own pockets. Glad for the group's compliance if not their complete loyalty, Hennet, Isole, and company fell into step behind her when she finally found her feet. Looking both ways around each corner the little ones held their spoils tight. Yillana dared the group to steal, not wanting to be alone if caught, but with shared danger came shared paranoia, and by the time they reached Ura's shop even Isole forwent her haughty indignation for sharp-eyed vigilance.

Leaving her party huddled on the street corner Yillana climbed the wooden steps, surprised the curtains were closed and pulled on the door handle, only to find it locked. Attempting to peer through the door's dusty glass panels, Yillana knocked again. A crash sounded from the other side, maybe one of Ura's many vials falling from behind her counter, but the Wise Woman did not appear.

Puzzled, Yillana looked down at Hennet and Isole, obviously uncomfortable this far from home. The two little children, sandwiched between brother and sister, showed none of their apprehension and waved at every passerby, beginning to draw attention.

Giving the door one final rap to no avail Yillana stuck her now-sweaty hand in her pockets, crammed with apples and her forgotten book and called for the group to follow her around back.

"Did she lock you out?" Isole asked, too nervous to be entirely disingenuous as Yillana saw her eye Aldieb and Mandarb, who were still tied behind the shop - a small comfort. At least Moiraine and Lan were within reach if something went wrong; maybe, Yillana figured, they were discussing the many secrets Ura insisted she kept and that's why the door stood locked.

Able to offer Isole some form of a smile, the expression entirely too forced to be reassuring, nervous whispers rippled through the small party when they found the back door also locked.

"I knew it," Isole hissed, fidgeting as Yillana jiggled the handle for the umpteenth time. "You're not her apprentice!"

Behind her, Hennet crowded the two smaller children picking up on his sister's fear.

Baffled as to why they suddenly found themselves at a dead end, Yillana ignored her companions and knelt down to peer through the lock, shushing Isole who crouched beside her. Nothing abnormal sat on the other side so far as she could tell, which meant her tricks would work nicely.

Placing her fingers on the dark metal Yillana closed her eyes, for a moment unsure if it would work with an audience, but as soon as she called a pressure built in her fingertips and the lock clicked open.

Using the handle for support Yillana threw a stunned Isole a tiered shrug then pushed the door inward, motioning for her companions to follow; none of them moved.

Rolling her eyes she held the door open wider. "You coming or not?"

Nose in the air even as she shook in fear, Isole's refusal to move any further was echoed by Hennet, though he looked more shocked than scared. "Can all Wise Women do that?" he whispered.

Glancing into the apparently deserted shop Yillana thought she heard another vial fall and considered telling the truth. It might get them across the threshold promising Ura had tricks like hers, but that somehow seemed a step too far. Another step away from the door let her hear a third sharp break and what sounded like a chair being dragged across the floor.

"I'll let you know," Yillana finally answered as she crept towards the stairwell, the scrape changing to a rhythmic thump. "Wait here."

+++++

"Hands out of your pockets child. Stand straight when I'm talking to you"

Yillana’s chin lifted so she could look the stout stranger in the eye, though her gaze slid past the blond woman to Ura. Standing stiffly against the far wall, the Wise Woman's gentle calm was overshadowed by fear and a quiet plea for her to comply when she noticed Yillana's attention shift.

Pulled in from the hall as she attempted to spy through the keyhole, where she caught the tail end of Ura's beating, Yillana fought to stay upright, the trek here coupled with her worry over the group downstairs worsening her creeping nausea and fatigue.

Her wandering gaze forcefully redirected, Yillana blinked as she caught her stunned expression reflected in the stranger's eyes.

"Ura failed to mention an apprentice in her last letter," the woman's finger tight on her chin. "Then again, she failed to mention much."

"Her appointment is recent, Olywn," Ura croaked; even her voice sounded sore.

"Then where was she this morning? It's not like you to let an apprentice stray far, especially not one this young." The stranger studied her as she spoke, turning her head slowly from side to side.

Meeting the Wise Woman's stricken face for another moment as they both endured the scrutiny Yillana bit her tongue, hoping Ura would have the strength to lie again.

"I sent her to the market."

Olywn mocked them with her frown, then wrinkled her nose, as though the Wise Woman's weak response let off an unpleasant smell. "Awfully long market visit. What did she send you for: Forkfoot? Fancloth? something even rarer?"

"Apples," Yillana grit out, tasting blood from her effort to hold back what she really wished to say, unnerved and angered by her friend's struggle. The simple act of holding herself against the wall looked to take an enormous amount of strength and it was this stranger's fault. In Yillana's opinion, Olywn needed to leave right now.

Her grip was surprisingly firm for someone so small and Olywn read her stare as Yillana intended, but a silent get-out from a child only made the woman dig her nails in further. When she finally pulled away from the pain the stranger let out a small laugh and then released her entirely.

"Your stories keep getting thinner and thinner, Sister," she hissed, her amusement turning sour. "The Knitting Circle is growing tired of your excuses."

Yillana's sharp inhale at the familiar name did not go unnoticed and Olywn, green eyes shining with baleful promise, tapped the side of her nose.

Sick and scared as the once-friendly gesture warped and changed in front of her, Yillana backed toward Ura, still trying to impress on Olywn that she was not wanted. The stranger took even greater amusement from her protective gesture than the revelation, but neither seemed to concern her as she spoke over Yillana's head, making Ura jump.

"I will return in two days' time, I expect you to be gone. Do you understand?"

Letting out a long breath palms pressed flat to the wall to steady herself the Wise Woman nodded "Yes, Sister."

"Good," Olywn sniffed as though she knew Ura had no other choice but to agree. "And while we're feeling obedient," she continued, slowly striding towards the door "you'd best get rid of this one." She pointed suddenly at Yillana who was too tired or too stubborn to flinch.

"Pardon?" Ura's stuttering enquiry slowed her just shy of the stairwell.

"She has the spark, Sister," Olywn spoke as if to a confused child turning back for a moment, delighted to observe Ura's silent panic and Yillana's weary disbelief. "A present maybe, to pass along to your Aes Sedai before you leave." 

With those parting words, she gathered her skirts bustled down the stairs and was gone.

+++++

A touch of normalcy became an evening of familiarity. Sore and shocked Yillana slowly led her friend down the stairs, terrified that Ura would topple over and land head first at the bottom.

"I'm all right," the Wise Woman said as she let out a pained breath, trying to pull away, but Yillana only held tighter. Elise had often said the same thing after a fit.

Guiding Ura towards the back door Yillana called into the darkness, praying they had not left as she received no answer. "Hennet? Isole?" 

She called again while settling the Wise Woman at the small table, crowding the end of her counter. Rustling and the snap of glass gave her companions away and while Yillana rummaged around behind the counter she sent them to keep Ura company.

Finding the packets of powder Ura mixed with tea to help Yillana sleep she dumped two of each into the cup, dissolving the herbs with cold water. Mixing up her own concoction but not completely sure of the measurements Yillana downed the bitter liquid as a precaution, her eyelids growing heavier by the minute as she presented the Wise Woman with her mug. "Drink," she ordered.

Ura eyed the cup and dipped a finger. Touching it to her tongue her tired expression wrinkled, instantly overwhelmed, and she handed it back. "Are you trying to poison me?"

Though meant as a joke, Yillana was startled by the question and more than a little hurt. The Wise Woman quickly realized her misunderstanding and stilled Yillana's wrist as she went to pull back. Though her voice was sore and rough and made her feel even more comfortable, Ura gently asked the young girl to sit, apologizing as she released her to her chair further down the table. Silent and still as dead trees, Hennet, Isole and company made room. Sat as if facing an intimidating aunt or tutor, Isole lost all her bluster while Hennet looked down sheepishly as Ura addressed him. "I was just telling Master Hennet and Miss Isole how I met them when they were no larger than loaves of bread," she said.

Yillana fiddled with the cup, not really listening. Watching the Wise Woman speak, animated despite her hidden injuries, all she could think of was Ura crouched against the wall, someone so tall and warm suddenly powerless. It reminded her of her mother, one memory that hadn't visited her since she came to stay with the Wise Woman but now returned with a vengeance, so much that it made her mad and she slammed her cup on the table. Starting her companions Ura fell quiet, only continuing her story when Yillana set the tea down.

Merlin often talked about her mother in the past, as if she used to be a different person and that this was her second life. The first woman, the one he slipped and referred to as dead, had been swallowed by the Elise Yillana knew. Her mother reminded him of the past and he mourned that loss.

From strong and safe to someone Yillana felt the need to protect if only for a moment Ura cowering before that woman ignited that same fear. To watch someone fall and wonder if they will ever get back up, to know a belief in their invisibility was foolish -

Yillana shook herself; those were thoughts that would leave her hollow as Merlin and mad as her mother. They were best faced with a friend, not wallowed in alone as Ura told her, but now was not the time.

The memory dissolving as her anger cooled, Yillana dragged herself back to the conversation, surprised to learn her companions were the Mayor's children.
"They'll be looking for you by now," Ura smiled to Hennet, Isole and the two children named Morgan and Lysa who all turned to Yillana, as if she were to provide an explanation for their trek across the bridge.

"You didn't tell me you knew her already!" she exclaimed, not wanting to tell Ura about the stolen apples or the fire.

Hennet shrugged, more than willing to play along but disappointed that the mystical woman he'd been promised appeared so benign, while the little ones were more fascinated by the herbs hanging on the wall. Only Isole looked mortified at what her father would think about her choice of company.

"A good healer does her best to remember all her patients, even if it’s been ages since their last visit," Ura said. She then turned to Yillana as she spoke some other message behind her words before focusing on their guests.

The Mayor arrived within the hour just as Ura predicted, a small group of men trailing him. Hennet, Isole, Morgan and Lyla greeted their father in a much better mood, thanks to a tour of the shop and some tea biscuits. Trusted enough that he accepted an altered version of how his children ended up so far from home Ura saw them out, brother and sister with enough to think about after their escapades to ensure Yillana was forgotten and any undesirable stories would surface much later.

Ushered out of her life with little fanfare once the door closed, Yillana went to Ura and guided her to sit down, but the Wise Woman refused. As though these past few hours set a clock in motion that could not be turned back, a quiet sense of urgency consumed her friend and dragged Yillana along.

Promising she was fine the Wise Woman put Yillana to work rummaging behind her counter, packing a large trunk, compiling bottles and packets, emptying glass jars into the wash basin and restacking the empty containers back on the shelves. Handing her two small clay containers sealed with wax she was instructed to pocket them before clearing an assortment of dyes and pigments, dried flowers and herbs, then bolts and bolts of a colour-shifting fabric that gave Yillana a headache the longer she looked at it. Moving into the next room, one for storage off the main apothecary, they added more until all the shelves sat empty, and the trunk and galvanized tub overflowed.

Peering at the jumbled mess of items and towards her friend breathing hard in obvious pain, Yillana reached for her hand, squeezing the Wise Woman's fingers. A sad smile passed across her face as she lowered her head, a pressure suddenly surrounding them both as she opened herself to the One Power. Bubbling slightly, the basin contents began to melt like snow in the spring. Watching the Wise Woman's life dissolve before her, Yillana remembered Olywn's words.
"When are you leaving?" 

To ask hurt only a little more than the answer. "Moraine Sedai will be back this evening," Ura said as she took a deep breath, fixated on the pile of shrinking cloth and herbs. "You leave in the morning, and I will be gone shortly after."

Yillana nodded, holding the Wise Woman's hand so hard she must have been in pain, but neither of them moved. Faced with another upheaval from a life far newer but infinitely safer than her time with Elise, the blame should’ve been on Olywn but the tea she'd downed in haste was finally catching up to Yillana, and the stranger's face was hard to conjure.

Hand clutched to her stomach, sure she was going to be sick, the face Yillana saw was her own, leaving Ura hurt and vulnerable just as she left her mother. Having refused the earlier offered tea biscuits her heaves produced nothing but a bad taste in her mouth but served to pull the Wise Woman back to herself. Sat on a nearby stool Ura rubbed her back as she retched then tilted her head instructing Yillana to open her eyes wide and stick out her tongue.
"How much did you take?" she asked as her hands went to Yillana's shoulders, supporting her as she heaved.

Yillana shrugged while swaying from side to side. Nausea made her dizzy and Yillana felt herself tipping into Ura, the Wise Woman guiding her head to rest on her shoulder. "Silly girl," she whispered, continuing to rub Yillana's back through the last of her retching. Once it stopped they both held on.
"Please, can I say?" Yillana heard herself whisper, losing her nerve for a moment as she revisited her mother's tearful goodbye - she didn't feel strong enough to go through that again.

For a moment very still, even her breath quiet and shallow, the Wise Woman suddenly tightened her grip, drawing Yillana into a crushing embrace then released her with the same force. Held at arm's length Ura let out a long breath and slowly shook her head. "Your place is with Moiraine. She'll see you safely to Tar Valon. Trust me."

Too tired to think of how she looked, fear gripped Yillana’s stomach and brought another wave of nausea that must have shown across her face.
"Besides," the Wise Woman scrunched up her nose trying to smile - she managed more than Yillana thought she could. "what will you do with all the apples?"

Momentarily confused, the adventure from a few hours earlier so far gone from her mind, Ura had to hold up the discarded apron, pockets stuffed full to remind her. Even then, with her limbs growing increasingly heavy, a reminder of the good parts of the coming journey hurt.

Picking up a green one that had fallen beneath the table, Ura kissed Yillana's brow, seeming to understand her attempts at levity were best tried another time. "Lay your head down, child," she said, her voice soft and warm as Yillana felt herself drift off. "I'll wake you when Moiraine Sedai returns."

+++++

Ura kept her promise, gently shaking Yillana awake when Moiraine and Lan appeared in the dead of night. Hoping the Aes Sedai's return would give her answers, or at least allow her to petition someone else to let her stay, she found her grogginess would not lift. Having taken more of the forkfoot than she thought the majority of Ura and Moiraine’s exchange drifted in and out. Eventually carried to her bed when she started mumbling; the voice, tonight with Olywn's face rather than her mother's, caused Yillana to toss and turn, but her heavy-handed self-medication kept her under.

Another month down the road and with Ura long gone, Yillana could recall a little more of what she heard. Perched on a window seat at the far end of their inn room, she imagined seeing through the double doors separating her from the Aes Sedai and wondered what exactly Moiraine was looking for. The Blue's quiet "no" when Ura asked upon her return sounded dejected but not surprised, and she'd seemed more than happy to have the subject changed. More interesting was Moiraine’s apology, as if she personally put Ura in danger, though the more Yillana thought about it the more it made sense why she was sworn to secrecy.

Remembering the Wise Woman's hug and the whisper that she would do well Yillana, left alone for most of the day while Moiraine wrote endless letters and Lan appeared for brief stints, contented herself with sorting through Uras's parting gift. She wore her new dress most days and kept one of the two books on her at all times. Among the other trinkets Ura sent were two small clay containers sealed with wax - Ura saying she would be in need of their contents when she was a woman -, a small wooden puzzle Yillana could not figure out, and a piece of paper with the recipe for her tea, absent the forkroot.

The lattermost was requested by Moiraine the first night they stopped to inform a supply of the required herbs bought from a local Wisdom. No more effective than before the girl's bloody hands still appeared in her dreams but Moiraine was right: The further she travelled from the Blight the weaker its hold - now only the ghost of her mother hung on. Much as she received no answer from Aes Sedai or Wise Woman, Yillana suspected that terror would follow her for the rest of her life.

She should talk about what scared her, she remembered; Ura had preached that holding it in would only make things worse, but eyeing the door separating her and Moiraine Yillana weighed her options. Deciding tonight Caraighan Manconar was a poor distraction and the Aes Sedai a poor confidant, she would go for a walk. The stables connected to the inn down a narrow flight of stairs, and from there she could make her way to the street. Unable to take all of the apples with her, the few she smuggled went a long way to winning Mandarb over and the war horse would let her approach, more than willing to sniff her palm and allow a few scratches. Anything further saw Yillana knocked to the ground, she and Mandarb the recipients of a scolding once her head stopped spinning.

Book tucked in her pocket Yillana padded across the room, listening for any sign Moiraine wasn't otherwise occupied but heard nothing beyond a dull hum from downstairs and her own breathing. Incredibly loud in the silence, Yillana squashed the urge to run as the lock clicked, schooling herself to walk with purpose until her composure finally broke when she reached the stairs and heard the thud of boots coming up the other way. If she went quickly they wouldn't notice her; she could be one of the innkeeper's children and to her relief, the three men passed without interest. Rounding the next corner, having come to a landing Yillana slowed down and took in the crowd dancing in the taproom. Distracted, she pressed herself to the railing to avoid the brush of people making their way down and it took her a moment to realize she no longer stood alone.

This close to Tar Valon there were a half dozen women she'd seen that reminded her of Moiraine in their unreadable expressions if not their regality. Warned against staring too long they actively avoided these Sisters. Calling herself ‘Mistress Alys’ at this particular inn, Moiraine wore her disguise well, the persona of a high-born lady not far from her public demeanour as Aes Sedai, though as they travelled Yillana saw hints of a woman behind her mask, usually in exhaustion.

Tonight, freed by her alias she watched the crowd with Yillana, who ever so slowly began to inch away hoping Moiraine wouldn't notice. Spinning between decorated sheaves of wheat surrounded by tall wax candles to be lit once it grew dark, the Feats of All Souls Salvation marked the beginning of autumn that soon threatened winter. An evening for celebration aside, once night fell one's ancestors were said to walk among the living, each lighted wick a soul, another thread bound to the Wheel hoping for salvation and rebirth. Suspicious of the innkeeper's enthusiasm for a festival Yillana considered nothing but an opportunity for bad memories; she wondered if Moiraine felt the same way, what with the Aes Sedai continuously gripping and releasing the banister. Caught staring as she reached the first step Yillana quickly turned her attention back to the taproom, but the damage was done. Familiar as she could be after their travels, Moiraine still made Yillana feel small when she spoke.

"The Festival lasts for two days. We will be in Tar Valon by week’s end," she said. It wasn’t what an anxious child wanted to hear from the Aes Sedai, but even with her sideways manner of speaking Yillana understood her sneaking was rather obvious.

Fiddling with her skirt then leaning over the bannister, trying to squash her suddenly squirming stomach, Yillana spoke first to the floor and then to the ceiling. "Do I have to go?"

Since she left Ura they'd been through this many times, with silence the Aes Sedai's usual response after she made her position clear. Tonight Moiriane let out a small breath. "You've come this far."

Turning her head she stuck out her tongue to let the Blue know her thoughts hadn't changed, Yillana misjudged the banister's height and pitched forward, the taproom spinning as people danced below. Her mouth hung open as she felt a sudden cold at the prospect of truly falling and in her panic let out a small yip, frantically reaching behind her. Quick to close a small hand around her wrist Moiraine backed Yillana from the edge, a hard line to her mouth. Bracing for a reprimand once her heartbeat slowed, whatever the Blue looked poised to say was halted by a group of women passing out candles in preparation for the night lighting.

"One for your daughter," the woman smiled at Moiraine who, still gripping her wrist, raised her eyebrows in a silent question, giving Yillana a choice as if they were actually mother and daughter. Accepting the candle Yillana wondered at the oddity of that assumption while the Aes Sedai waited until the group moved on to direct her upstairs.

Now more curious than angry, Yillana couldn't help but voice her intended threat when Moiraine first found her. "I'll run away," she said, arms across her chest. Once Moiraine closed the door Yillana stomped her foot in frustration. The Aes Sedai turned from her waving her wrist in a small circle to open the panelled doors, cutting the room in half.

"You would not be the first," Moiraine replied, her tone dry. "Many women try, and not all are suited for the Tower, but as I have said before my Sisters will not permit you to leave until you learn to control how and when you touch the Source"

"What about Ura?" Yillana called after the Blue who disappeared into the dark sitting room. A wall sconce by her head burst with light, then another two lit across the room to reveal Moiraine by the large desk strewn with papers and books. It surprised her the Aes Sedai would leave such a mess; tired as Yillana knew her to be she rarely had a hair out of place. The chaos of her research somehow did not fit, though it made Yillana feel more comfortable. Walking forward she picked up a small tome written in a language she recognized but couldn’t read, flipping through the foreign markings while waiting for Moiraine to answer.

The room sufficiently lit and with a pot of steaming tea on a low table Moiraine plucked the book from her hands, meeting Yillana's indigent scowl with serenity, dark eyes wide beneath her hair, tonight braided down her back and absent the mesmerizing blue stone. "What of Ura?" she answered, sitting in a high-backed chair. "Did she tell you of her time in the Tower?"

"Ura never went to Tar Valon," Yillana replied to defend her friend "She’s not Aes Sedai."

"Is that what she told you?" Moiraine replied as she sipped her tea, flicking her gaze to the vacant chair on the other side of the table. Watching Yillana tuck herself against the backrest the Aes Sedai continued. "Not all women who enter the Tower become Aes Sedai. Some do not pass our tests so they join other causes. Others who take the Shawl choose to live a life removed from their Sisters."

"The Knitting Circle?" Yillana asked, remembering Olywn's nails on her skin.

"A name best kept to yourself once we reach Tar Valon - just as you are to keep all we have talked about private."

Swallowing Yillana reached for the second teacup to hide her shiver at the Aes Sedai's threat, mild as it was. Though sporadic and subject to the effectiveness of her sleep Moiraine had continued her instruction, yet as they got closer to Tar Valon she began to warn Yillana of displaying her tricks or attempting the few exercises she could wrap her fingers around. Wilders, a name Moiraine explained was given to women and girls who channelled without instruction, were often singled out for intensive treatment, by Accepted and Aes Sedai alike. Insisting she wasn't afraid the Aes Sedai's blunt statement that no trouble she found at home would compare to questioning a woman used to power froze any further comment; it was for her own good.

Realizing she still held the tall twisted candle Yillana uncurled, having actually drunk some of the tea to calm her nerves. "I'll be gone by New Spring," she stated as she set the teacup between them. "They won't have time to ask me anything."

Of all things, Moiraine smiled. "New Spring is only in the Borderlands, child. The air warms much earlier in the south, not to mention the lakes and ponds. Some are swimming off the bay in Tar Valon when the water in Sheinar is ice-cold, and besides" any trace of levity at once absent from her voice "what of helping your mother?"

The little tea she drank suddenly churned in Yillana's stomach as a vision of Elise cackling as she fell out her window sprung clear into the shadowed room. "I can't do it," she whispered, ashamed by her cowardice.

In another surprise Moiraine did not contradict her - in fact, she agreed. "That does not mean there is nothing to be done,” she said. “There are many sisters who dedicate their lives to healing, and though the Wheel is not always kind the Pattern’s weave does not leave us without opportunity. Have faith."

"In what?"

Moiraine smiled, a brief thing tinged with something like sadness for how quickly it disappeared, a weight appearing to settle on her shoulders in the quiet. Reaching through the walls the sound of singing broke the silence and just like the many downstairs solemn after celebration the Aes Sedai lit first her candle and then Yillana's, placing them on the mantle to burn.

The two flames reflected in her eyes, the ghost of her dead beside Moiraine’s as the Aes Sedai folded her hands and closed her eyes for a moment. "May you shelter in the palm of the creator," she intoned in both prayer and answer before she turned to Yillana, ageless and daunting as her words. “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, I cannot tell you what to believe. That is for you to decide.”

Chapter Text

I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid, Yillana mumbled to herself as Tar Valon came into view, their trek across the bridge quiet and uninterrupted. Once they crossed the city, a great circle of winding streets and soaring buildings revealed a surprising number of people going about their business despite the early hour. Unarmed and unafraid, no one paid them any mind, so Yillana was free to stare, but she could not muster her usual curiosity for anything beyond the hazy outline of their destination.

I'm not afraid. She tried again, hoping to drown the fear that made her jittery and restless, but the urge to run caught so strong that Yillana considered deliberately throwing herself out of the saddle to be drowned by the meagre crowd.

Eyeing the stones under Mandarb’s hooves, considering the long drop, Lan’s large hand suddenly closed over hers. The Warder quietly readjusted her seat so Yillana was held securely to his chest.
"Not long now," he said, his words quiet though they felt impossibly loud as close as she sat.

Swallowing, Yillana nodded. "I'm not afraid," she repeated the declaration as unconvincing as ever.
Lan hummed in reply and said nothing further as Yillana fidgeted and mumbled, trying to distract herself as they drew closer to their destination - and for a time, it worked. Counting her fingers, picking at the pockets of her apron, scratching the saddle and watching it change colour under her nails was enough, but once they entered the Tower's midmorning shadow, Yillana couldn't help but look up.

Face turned towards the sky, she craned her neck, trying for a better view. Everything she'd read and all Moiraine told her felt heavy over her shoulders, a weight born of expectation pressing down around her, almost suffocating as they rode closer and closer. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she thought, the Tower would disappear. If she tried hard enough, she could go back to Ura's library or mother's study, to a quiet, dusty room a world away, safe and unchanging. To her great frustration, Yillana could not conjure up an image. The rooms where she spent so much time were a haze just as the Tower had once been, and now, with the spire in focus, anything left behind existed blurred.

Would she forget Elise? If her memories of home deteriorated this fast, would she even recognize her mother if she ever returned? Would Elise recognize her?

Yillana blinked, rubbing her eyes against threatening tears, desperately looking for another distraction from her rapidly encroaching future when a white speck caught her attention. Not far off the ground, a girl rushed across a balcony disappearing only to reappear minutes later three floors up. Too far away to see her face, Yillana leaned forward as she caught movement on another balcony. Much taller than the girl in white, she could just make out the bright yellow slashes against the red of the woman's skirt billowing behind her.

"Close your mouth. You'll catch flies."

Startled by Moiraine’s abrupt comment, Yillana blinked as she snapped her mouth closed, losing the red and yellow figure amidst the many levels and balconies.

At her shoulder, the Aes Sedai steered Adlieb closer, echoing her Warder’s words from earlier. "Not long now," she said, her voice light as she turned her head to follow where Yillana still watched the Tower. "Lan and I will accompany you to the gate, but the Mistress of Novices you will see alone."

"I'm not afraid," Yillana muttered. Her mouth went dry at the prospect of entering the tower alone.

Moiraine raised an eyebrow and said nothing but her hand briefly on Yillana's shoulder, evidence she believed otherwise.

"Where will you go?" Yillana asked. Exasperation was above Aes Sedai as she had come to learn these past few days amidst the Blue's endless instructions. Still, this particular question turned Moiraine’s sympathetic expression to a blank face.

"Nowhere that concerns you, Yillana."

"I could help."

Moiraine shook her head. "Our work has no place for a child."

"Then you'll be happy to get rid of me," Yillana grumbled. Her final attempt to turn around refuted the only thing left to do was protect herself from the pain of another goodbye.

She remained silent from then on, focusing straight ahead, trying to forget how fond she'd grown of her travelling companions as the street straightened out after a sharp bend. Tall as the wall surrounding the inner keep in Fal Dara, Yillana still found herself squinting, head thrown back to watch guards march around the city's heart.

"Are you sure I can't go with you?" she whispered to no one in particular. Stealing from a Warder, consoling her hysterical mother and the horrible dreams were a treat in the wake of crossing the river to wear Novice white. At that moment, Yillana would've taken all, welcoming punishment when caught if only for its familiarity. This adventure, for an adventure it was and a privilege too if Moiraine were to be believed, felt more akin to execution, but she had nowhere to go so she reasoned that she might as well get it over with. 

Shaking loose of Lan's hold, the Warder did not try to stop her as she slid down to hit the cobbles, her legs shaking with soreness from the long drop as she made her way to the guardhouse, where a glance out the doorway told the soldier standing post all he needed to know. With a knowing smile, he opened a smaller door leading onto the passage connecting the city to the White Tower.

"Nothing to bring with you, girl"? the guard asked.

So intent on quelling her fear and that insatiable urge to bolt, Yillana realized she’d almost forgotten the small bundle, the sum of her wealth and only reminders of home.

She sprinted out to the street, letting loose some nervous energy, hoping to catch Lan and Moiraine before they rode away with her worldly possessions. "I'll be back!" she hollered behind herself, expecting a search, but she soon slid to a sudden halt before she could run headlong into the Aes Sedai's white mare, eyes down as she regained her balance.

"Moiraine Sedai I forgot-"

"Lan has your things, child."

Yillana blinked, looking up; Gone was her mask, a hint of sincerity behind dark eyes. "Thank you... Aes Sedai," she replied hurriedly.

The Blue sister let out a quiet laugh, an elegant hand guiding her towards a dismounted Lan, the bundle seemingly shrunk an eighth of its size in his hands.

Two months of travel produced very few expression changes; now, she expected to hear a stone crack. "That glad to be rid of me?" Yillana joked, darting a glance over her shoulder, but Moiraine only watched the Tower. In her eyes, their travelling companion was already gone.

Lan followed her gaze. "You will do well."

Yillana shook her head at the Warder's startlingly impractical optimism. Six months at the most, she gave herself, if not before, owing to what help she found her mother, but his words were genuine, and to add to her surprise, he held out a hand. 

For a brief moment, she considered refusing the Warder's offer. Moiraine Sedai thought she could go alone, and what of the Sister's insistence she forget her travelling companions, but Yillana could not deny her growing delight at not having to cross alone.

"Do you remember what Moiraine Sedai told you?" he spoke as they walked, looking down at her when she did not answer, expecting her to prove she could recite his Aes Sedai's instructions.

"One letter is for the Mistress of Novices," Yillana answered as her stride picked up, closer to a hop to match his. "The other is for the Yellow who heals me and no one else."

The same guard gave a quick salute, stepping promptly out of Lan's way. All gentle arches and intricate panels, even the outer tower, promised a departure from the rough practical stones of home.

"What about the third letter?" Lan continued. The clatter of swords and a called greeting almost drowned out his question as delicate swirled walls and paled white-eyed statues became a wide yard, stables at one end and a large group of men and boys at the other.

"Moiraine Sedai only gave me two," Yillana stated. Her practiced answer received a quick nod of approval, his attention diverted for a moment as he exchanged brief words with a great block of man directing the others who all held practice swords. Half hid behind the Warder's leg, she watched a boy no older than Gren lose to his sparring partner. Knocked to the ground, the boy rose and bowed, formal as Merlin and began again. Unlike her friends, this loss did not end in a wrestling match. Things were done differently here.

Whisked away before she could see if the boy was more successful a second time, then practically carried up the stairs to match the Warder's long stride, they finally entered the Tower. Continuing to recite Moiraine’s instructions, Yillana snuck glances in every open doorway and adjacent hall as they flew by.

‘ Aes Sedai cannot lie, but that does not mean everything they say is true. ’ The Blue sister's most repeated reminder replayed itself in her head, though it was not the most surprising. That belonged to her rather conspiratorial advice of ‘ don't get caught. ’ Apparently, Moiraine expected her to find the same trouble she was prone to at home.

Yillana stuck out her tongue at the thought, far from delighted at the prospect of having to deal with such people, but then again…

"Does this include Moiraine Sedai?" she asked, her question as genuine as it was facetious. After two months she’d often found herself on Moiraine's good side, and Yillana trusted her despite her tendency of indirectness. What was one Sister in the grand scheme of things? If you'd met one, she thought, you'd met them all.

Lan craned his head down to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Are all Aes Sedai like Moirane” she explained, remembering she hadn’t spoken out loud. While she wondered if Lan had some unusual insight into Moiraine's thoughts, he could not read Yillana’s mind.

Their pace slowed, the Warder studying her for a brief moment to consider the statement before shaking his head. "What gave you that idea?"

Yillana shrugged, ever uncomfortable under scrutiny. "A guess. Am I right?"

Lan did not answer. She took it as a yes.

+++++

The hall continued, an endless corridor curving so Yillana couldn't see what was around the next corner. Twice they came upon a Sister, Lan pulling her out of the way to let the woman pass. The first Aes Sedai did not notice her wedged between Lan and the wall, but the second Sister, a brown shawl draped around her shoulders trailed by a man with greying hair, caught Yillana's eye as she passed. She seemed non-threatening, even motherly if they'd met on the street rather than in the hall, nothing special in such a vast tower but increasingly intimidating the closer they came to its end. An innocent glance from a seemingly harmless woman felt like a test.

Fighting leaden feet and a rolling stomach as though she'd just used her tricks, Yillana froze at first sight of the guarded door, but Lan did not stop forcing her to continue rather than fall. Yillana kept her eyes down, counting the stones as they disappeared under her boots, finally admitting for all her insistence of the opposite; she was very much afraid.

Slowing at the far end of the corridor, the Warder’s hand engulfing her palm tightened for a moment. "Chin up," he said.

Following his instruction, she watched the woman posted outside rise from her chair and hastily smooth her white dress as they approached. No worse than Merlin, Yillana thought, rolling her shoulders; she'd been in this position before. Admittance to her mother's apartment was never straightforward, and Light only knew what she'd find on the other side. The realization was not enough to quiet her fear. Looking up at the Warder, she pulled back ever so slightly. They were not there yet; she could still turn around, the words unspoken with her action - Lan kept walking, inclining his head forward, indicating she should do the same.

Fixated on the tall wooden door, when she finally came to a stop, Yillana realized she stood alone. A few paces behind, his hands clasped behind his back, Lan waited, her bundle still tucked beneath his arm. Eyes widening, Yillana tried to catch his attention; he volunteered to come with her, so she thought he'd be doing the talking, but the Warder stared straight ahead.

Trying to hide a smile, the woman in white glanced down at her, then up at Lan with an expression, Yillana found rather patronizing. She evidently expected Lan to explain their presence though it seemed rather obvious, instead receiving only silence.

Annoyed by the untimely abandonment made worse by the fact he hadn't physically left, Yillana positioned herself in the tall woman's line of sight, close enough the coloured bands hemming her dress almost brushed Yillana's boots.
Palms pressed to her pocket, tracing the letter in each Yillana took on a lecturer's tone, pretending she sat on the roof back home trying to impress Nymph and Gren with her latest story. "I am here to see the Mistress of Novices," she said.

"Do you have an appointment?" the doorwoman asked, attempting to speak over her head to Lan, who simply tilted his head towards Yillana.

"I have a letter from Moiraine Sedai," Yillana continued, whipping the folded paper with its blue seal from her pocket and waving it under the tall woman's nose, "I'm told that would be enough to be seen by Amira Sedai." 

Her eyebrows disappearing into her blond hair, Yillana found the woman's unbidden surprise at her words - or was it the letter ,  rather funny. Nymph and Gren would’ve called her smug ;her companion only passed a final confused glance over the Warder standing at Yillana's back and told her to wait, then disappeared behind the tall wooden door.

++++

"If you're just going to stand there and not be helpful, I'll take my things, and you can go," Yillana said, gesturing vaguely to the hall as she eyed the door behind her, yet to produce a Mistress of Novices after many minutes of uncomfortable silence.

Leaning against the wall, bundle resting at his feet, Lan looked up, watching her fidget and swing her legs short of touching the ground.

"Moiraine Sedai will want you back," Yillana said, gripping the sides of the chair and rocking side to side as she spoke. "She didn't want you to bring me in the first place."

Lan offered nothing in response, as though she spoke to a wall.

"I won't try to run if that's what you're worried about."

This statement earned her a raised eyebrow, indicating he didn't believe a word she said. Yillana crossed her arms with a huff. She was thankful for his taking her this far. She would have lost her nerve many hallways ago if it wasn't for the Warder, but the longer they sat in silence, the rest of her life locked behind the nearest door, the more she felt her courage begin to fade. If he didn't leave now, Yillana would try to follow, only Lan and Moiraine would not take her home. Ura was gone. This was her only option.

But Lan did not go. Despite her asking again, he simply readjusted his position against the wall and continued to wait with her. Was this what having a Warder was like, Yillana wondered, scowling at her companion: Invaluable one moment and profoundly annoying the next? If Lan thought it appropriate, what was stopping her from annoying him back? After two months of travel, she still had many questions, but if she began too heavy-handed, any chance of an answer would fly out the Tower's high windows.

"Who are the boys in the yard? I thought only women trained in the Tower."

"Some will be bonded as Warders," Lan replied, his answer echoing in the deserted hall.

She thought of the boy that looked like Gren rising only to be knocked down again "and the rest?"

"Many return home."

"Whenever they like?" she asked, remembering Moiraine’s warning she would not be allowed to leave before the Aes Sedai thought her ready.

"For many families, it is an honour to send a son," Lan paused. " or a daughter, to the tower, no matter if they become a Warder or Aes Sedai."

Moiraine had told her as much in not so many words. To hear it again made Yillana sit a little straighter. The Warder sat back as she relaxed. If Elise remembered, she would be proud, maybe even thankful, if Yillana found a sister to heal her.

Tracing the letter in her right pocket while thinking on the next question, she discovered the last remaining apple in her apron folds. Shrivelled but not yet rotting, the little crab apple fit perfectly in her palm as she tossed it from hand to hand, almost dropping the fruit when the door behind her suddenly swung open.

On her feet, in an instant, Yillana looked up at the same woman who left her to wait seemingly hours ago. "The Mistress of Novices will see you now," she said.

Yillana clasped her hands behind her back, squeezing the apple; a final urge to run sent a burst of cold up her spine. Muscles tensing, ready to dart down the hall, she planted her feet more firmly and turned on her heels. Standing in the middle of the hall, much closer than when they first arrived, Lan held out her bundle as Yillana offered him the apple.

"Make sure Mandarb gets it,” she said. “A thank you for taking me this far." It was also a thank you for Lan, though she didn't know if the Warder would accept such a direct complement. The night before they reached Tar Valon, her thanking Moiraine made the Aes Sedai rather uncomfortable.

Whether he took her words as intended and felt something or was just glad to finally be rid of her, Lan’s expression softened, and he gave a small bow.

"Aes Sedai do not like to be kept waiting," his reminder and the words that followed quiet and low so only she could hear. As she had once called after him, Lan returned her words, "Tai'shar Malkier," and he was gone.

Nothing behind her and a world of possibility at her feet, Yillana swallowed, thinking of those words as her mother did. To survive and return home.

Chapter Text

Moiraine had, in fact, given her a third letter. Slipped into the waistband of her dress and then smuggled out under her new Novice Whites as her old clothes burned, she had instructions but no idea how to see them through. Armed with the description of a door, a specific wing in the Tower, and the express order to tell no one, Yillana carried the increasingly ragged paper around for over a month before making any headway.

With her name in the Novice Book, her personal belongings picked through like they were on display to be sold, and a sore backside, she left Amira Sedai's office intent on never returning. Short of temper and liberal in her punishment, Yillana's choice of words when the Aes Sedai confiscated Ura's gifts earned her some of the bruises she now sat on. Alone in a deserted passage, one step closer to offloading the letter, she'd needed to make a detour, slipping out of the main hall that cut straight through the tower to end up in a dusty alcove. 

Trying not to sneeze, Yillana listened for footsteps, waiting until all she heard was the wind rattling an ill-fitting door before she ventured out. Carefully backtracking to avoid suspicious eyes that would notice her dirty dress, Yillana snuck up a floor, then into one of the Ajah's apartments. Divided between seven colours, Sisters guarded their secrets more tightly than Nymph and Gren held to the location of their favourite hiding spots. Picking a sister with a Blue shawl out of a crowd and spending the better part of a day following her around provided a wonderful example of what not to do.

Hauled back to Amira Sedai and re-bruised, Yillana soon learned the value of Moiraine’s instructions. Successful sneaking required that she not get caught.

Her next adventure, this one approved by her minders, saw Yillana off to visit the Yellows. Yuan Sedai read Moiraine’s letter twice over, her ageless face hinting at nothing beyond mild surprise, neither concerned nor shocked when Yillana described her mother's episodes. Brushed aside as though she was too young to know whether Elise needed help, the Yellow sister, after sniffing at Ura's tea, bid Yillana sit for her examination.

Unlike the Blue's healing, Yillana squirmed as Yuan's hands pressed on her temples, not remembering the shock of cold that shot up her spine.

The Aes Sedai's grip tightened. "I cannot delve you, child, if you squirm like an eel - sit still."

Gripping the side of her chair, Yillana’s eyes squeezed shut; she did her best not to move until a light tap on her shoulder brought her head up.

Balancing her with steady hands, the Yellow offered her a cup of tea and a cookie of all things, her air of indifference gone. As much as she could, the woman looked concerned. "Do you have nightmares, Yillana?" she asked.

Yillana looked down, mouth dry - she sounded like Ura.

"No, Aes Sedai. I don't wake up screaming." Not anymore.

"But your dreams are not always pleasant?" she probed.
Yillana's reaction was enough for the Sister to know she had hit a nerve.

"Are yours?" She bit her lip, unable to catch the words before they tumbled out.

Yuan Sedai again wore a non-expression as she removed her hand from Yillana’s shoulder.
"I will speak to Nisao Sedai, though I doubt anything is to be done,” she said. “You will be taught to ward your dreams, if not your tongue, soon enough."

As benign a dismissal as Yillana could hope for, she'd been escorted out of the Yellow's apartment and sent straight to the kitchens. There, a square of tile floor and a scrub brush occupied the rest of her day until she found herself crouched in a dark hall.

According to the Accepted, who led her to lessons the previous day, too full of herself to hold her tongue, these apartments belonged to the Blues. Eager to share her knowledge Yillana had the names of most of the Sisters in the hall by the time they congregated for morning lessons. Thinking herself rather smart and the unwitting Accepted too slow for her own good, Yillana's naive assessment that all Sisters were like Moiraine, if not already damaged, was shattered completely. When the young woman eventually decided her questions weren't born of simple curiosity, an inflated account of her inquiries reached the nearest Aes Sedai. Made to stand facing the wall, barred from the day's lesson, and then sent to the kitchens, it became apparent how foolish she was to assume anything. Regardless, if Moiraine Sedai wanted her to deliver a letter, Yillana would try for all the Aes Sedai insisted she forget them. It was all she could offer in repayment for the sister saving her life, though the gratitude was dulled with the knowledge she'd also dropped her into a viper’s nest.

Far from her room and more lost than she wanted to admit, the door she searched for did not reveal itself until her third turn down the hall. Unlike the other two times when she knew she was alone, as Yillana crept up to the door, a beam of light fell across her shoes thrown from an apartment across the hall. Hastily stuffing the letter under the door, Yillana pressed herself to the wall, cursing her bright white dress and praying the shadows thrown by the stone were enough to hide her.

Wide-eyed, trying to see through the darkness, she sunk further into the wall as the Aes Sedai whispered a quiet goodnight to the woman inside and turned. Incredibly, she realized it was the same sister she encountered on her trip to the Mistress of Novices, the woman stopping with her head cocked like an owl, eyes unblinking and vacant no more than a two span from where she hid. Yillana held her breath, unable to look away even as she braced for a reprimand, maybe a weave of air pulling her from the corner, but the Sister did nothing and eventually turned down the hall, humming softly to herself.

+++++

"Where have you been?"

Yillana clamped the pillow around her head. Mirella's next question was muffled but not completely gone.

"Did you deliver the letter?"

Flipping over in bed to face her prying cellmate, who held up her dirty dress, Yillana hissed and grabbed for the only proof of her nighttime wanderings. "I told you there was no letter," she insisted, gathering her nightdress, also white, in her hands, wondering if she was heavy enough to wrestle the thing away from Mirella.

"That's not what I heard."
Sheets rustled, and Mirella saved Yillana the trouble by dropping the grey dress on her lap, then settling at the end of the narrow bed. "I heard you snuck out in the middle of the night, past Sisters and the Tower guard, to deliver a secret message."

"Practicing your rumours?" Yillana mumbled, twisting the dirty fabric between her fingers, quietly concerned that her fellow Novice knew so much for having been sound asleep when she left.

Watching her work the dress into a grubby ball, Mirella smiled, all teeth, and moved closer. "Can I go with you next time?"

Black hair framing her freckled face, Yillana's responding scowl only seemed to excite her more. "Magda's a horrible bore," she continued, pointing to the vacant bed across from them, usually occupied by a quiet, serious Novice older than them. "Besides, I've been here two years. I know the Tower inside and out."

And if she could still smile like that, maybe there was hope, Yillana wondered, but she didn't intend on staying long enough to find out. Her obligation to Moiraine was satisfied; finding help for her mother came next, then she would be gone. With no time for a friend or an enemy, Mirella received a smile and nod, the vague answer enough for the older girl to remove herself from the bed while Yillana changed into her second set of whites.
Impractical beyond the colour, when crowded between the other Novices on their trek to the dining hall or in lessons, Yillana often found herself lost in the shuffle. Hidden behind her classmates but without pockets or an apron, she had nowhere to hide her shaking red hands. Ura told her the colour was not real, Yillana believed her, but the waking nightmare held at bay for most of her travels tended to surface when she felt particularly alone. A small price to pay to spend as little time in the Tower as possible.

+++++

Tired and sore, the day's end came long after the rest of the tower slept. Sure her knees would give out before she reached her room, Yillana let out a long groan as cold white sheets padded her fall into bed. To light a flame in her hand or trip a lock was a trick called on in need, but to touch the Source for another reason and not draw so much as to make herself sick looked a near-impossible task. Lessons on the road with Moiraine could not hold a candle to a wide-eyed audience watching, whispering while she struggled. Another dress soiled as she gagged at the back of the classroom, followed by an eternity spent scrubbing floors and sweeping, a blessedly clean nightdress, and the thorny oblivion of sleep could not come quickly enough until her hand slipped under her pillow.

Slowly drawing out the oft-folded letter her stomach dropped, and Yillana quickly turned onto her side, away from Mirella's prying eyes. With the same blue seal, cracked but otherwise intact, whatever message Moiraine wanted her to deliver had returned.

Chapter Text

Hidden under her mattress, Yillana swore she felt the ragged piece of paper every time she lay down. Despite the phantom discomfort, another week passed before she found the courage to break the seal. Cryptic, as the woman who originally gave it to her, the message Moiraine had had her deliver made little sense. Seemingly written backwards with misspelled words, it meant nothing. That was enough reason for Yillana to assume its importance. She would write in code if she had a secret letter to deliver, though she would have picked a more reliable courier.

Not wanting to disappoint Moiraine, though Yillana wondered how much the Blue Sister knew for not being in the Tower, she resolved to complete her mission. Not that she would be able to sneak out any time soon, what with her cellmate pretending to sleep and the chilling possibility that someone unknown watched her.

Distracted as she mulled over the best way to avoid more bruises, the preferred method of punishment for unauthorized night walks and pranks, the solution presented itself beside her on the tiled kitchen floor. Sleeves rolled up past her elbows, Mirella, exhausted as were the rest of their group, handed her a brush, smiling despite the dirt.

"If you don't quit dawdling, Imera will send you to clean inside the fireplace," the older girl said as she looked over her shoulder, where the aforementioned Accepted walked between her charges.

Yillana scowled at the square-faced woman. A taskmaster with a sharp eye, she'd caught Yillana off task more than once.
"Imera can suck an egg for all I care," she replied, scooting closer to Mirella, taking the brush to scrub at the blackened tile, doing her best to find its original red beneath the soot.

Head down, Mirella leaned into her work, giggling then biting her tongue as Imera loomed over them, commenting on their lack of progress. Yillana wondered if the Accepted heard her mutter about the egg for how long she watched them work before moving on.

Shoulder to shoulder with her cellmate Yilllana placed a hand over hers. Confused but compliant - a good quality, like Nymph - Mirella darted a glance over her shoulder again when Yillana delivered her proposition.

Giddy, the older girl, resumed her work, Yillana followed suit, gripping the brush until her hand hurt. "Is that a yes?" she prodded, unsure Mirella understood what she had just agreed to.

"Of course," Mirella answered, no hesitation in her reply. "I think it will be great fun."

+++++

As much as her life appeared to have changed, Yillana somehow always found herself on the wrong end of someone else's plans. Her mother's agreement to send her to the Tower, Nymph and Gren's conspiring cowardice, now an Aes Sedai's reluctance to deliver secret mail. Not that she didn't enjoy the sneaking. A certain amount of her pride was attached to successfully making a fool of those looking for her, a moment of power to remember when she felt small. But with that feeling came another that she was not fond of. The clenching in her stomach and a sick taste in the back of her mouth were all signs of guilt. Viciously stomping on it at home, lest she start blaming herself for every little wrong, Mirella's smile as they crept down the dark hall still made Yillana nauseous.

Eager for the adventure, her cellmate would not sleep until Yillana did, expectant and buzzing with excitement, then disappointed each time she decided they would wait another night. She never asked why they waited, small mercy. How could explain the constant pressure on her back since the letters returned, the weight of unknown eyes following her, not to mention the shadow that lurked on the edges of sight? She risked losing the only friend she’d been able to make since arriving. More importantly, she would be left without an accomplice.  

The sister she’d twice come across never reappeared, and no other Aes Sedai took an interest in her. Crouched in the shadow of a jutting windowsill, just across the hall from the door, Yillana knew someone was watching. This meant they were about to get caught, so she sent Mirella.

Fully under the door before it opened, a tall woman, her profile outlined in the dim light and trailed by another slender shadow, stepped into the hall, trampling the crumpled paper. "Not so fast, little minnow," the Aes Sedai whispered, the shadow behind her reaching to grab Mirella's arm as the girl scrambled backwards.

With a soft yip Mirella stumbled, and the Warder grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. Straining against his grip, she looked down the hall to where Yillana hid, the Aes Sedai following her gaze. Hand claimed over her mouth; her plan having come to fruition, Yillana hoped for her previous luck, but this Sister did not look through her.

She shouldn't have been afraid; she didn't need to run. The realization dawned on her as she scurried down the hall. Moiraine wanted the letter delivered, Yillana consoled herself, still not turning back. They would never know she read and memorized it like one of her stories. Whoever caught Mirella would be kind - but then again... 

Yillana slowed, tucking herself into an alcove, listening for footsteps. The letter had returned. Did they intend for her to keep it?

None of it made any sense. The only thing left to do was get back to her room and hope Mirella's switching didn't leave her in a bad way. Yillana could take a little punishment, though she avoided it whenever possible. Her cellmate, lest she wore a second face, would be in tears.

Moving from shadow to shadow, she descended two flights of stairs, taking her shoes off to stop her echoing steps. Even then, quiet as she was, someone still followed. The tower's lower levels housed the Novice quarters and a scattered number of apartments all deserted this late. Save for Yillana and her phantom, nothing moved. In the quiet, recognizing an opportunity, the footsteps moved closer, and Yillana grabbed the back of her neck as she ran, trying to erase the prickle of fear crawling up her spine.

Don't get caught. It was easy to say when you weren't the one running, though Mirella would be less inclined to see herself as bait if Yillana were caught .

The final stairwell in sight, her refuge at the bottom, the first door on the right looked an increasing impossibility, her unknown follower close enough she could make out a distant shape. Again cursing her dress for making her such a target, Yillana pressed herself against the wall looking for any cover, continuing to dart frantic glances over her shoulder. Bumping against the stone wall and other closed doors, she fumbled along, then her hand slipped. Having brushed against a door handle, this one, unlike all before, turned and a small hand barely larger than her own slipped out.

"Quickly before she turns the corner!" came the hiss from inside.

Wholly unexpected, Yillana instinctively jerked away only to be pulled forward, another hand on her back, as she was ushered into a pitch black apartment.

+++++

From the black of night to a blinding white light, the unknown woman gripping her wrist appeared in a flash. Dark eyes against her tanned complexion beneath a brown shawl; she was a walking monotone against an illuminated space so cluttered Yillana could scarcely move.

Trying to extract her hand, the Brown Sister - no other Ajah lived among this many books - did not let go, just stood with her amongst the paper maze. "Jem?" the sister called amongst the clutter.

"Yes, Aes Sedai?" the answering man replied as he stepped up behind her. Of no great height, the Warder miraculously moved between the stacks without toppling a single one despite his girth.

"Tea, if you wouldn't mind." 

Surprisingly strong and seemingly ready for Yillana's attempt to follow the man, the sister only blinked at her, head shaking in a brief no.

Eyes fixed on the door, she watched it open then close so quickly she couldn't sneak so much as a glance to the hall. With no chance to see who followed her and no escape, Yillana turned back to the Aes Sedai attached to her wrist.

"Good evening, child," the woman said, her expression glassy and vacant, but she answered Yillana's next question before it left her mouth. "You may address me as Helen Sedai."

"Yillana," she whispered, free hand clutching the side of her dress.

Helen's grip on her wrist tightened. "I know," she smiled, an unnaturally sharp expression that sent a chill up Yillana's spine. Enclosed in her dark dress, small among the many piled books, she suddenly became the shadow that had stalked the halls, watching since the letter returned.

Impossible , Yillana reasoned. Aes Sedai did not sneak, though she wouldn't put it past any of them to enjoy intimidating whoever happened to stray into their web. Fearing she sat on the edge of a similar danger, Yillana again tried to pull her wrist away; only the stranger would not let go. Confused and desperate, she squirmed, hoping the woman would understand. Helen chuckled at her weak effort, unmoved.

Demanding anything was a privilege held by those far above her. This rule, unwritten but quickly learned by every Novice, held Yillana from pressing the matter further. Ducking her head, she resigned herself to the awkward position, waiting for the Aes Sedai to release her, silently fretting about Mirella. Her accomplice would talk, and they were bound for trouble when she did. Not that I'm any better off now , Yillana thought as she watched the odd little Brown hold her wrist. Was she waiting for her Warder to return with tea? Had she forgotten her reason for being here? 

Sharp and mysterious one moment, now she looked miles away, her eyes running over the cluttered room. Older Novices, Mirella included, told her Browns were often airy and forgetful, so absorbed in the studies they forgot how to interact with the outside world.

Aware of her precarious position, Yillana wondered if the Aes Sedai's change in demeanour would work in her favour. She had nothing to lose. They were in trouble either way.

"What do you want?"

Voice even and clear, the sound still died quickly among the stacks of paper. Brought back to herself by the question, Helen let her stew, watching intently, waiting for any false confidence to be smothered by fear. Yillana lifted her chin.

Sharp as a knife, Helen's smile widened, and she released Yillana's wrist. Taking a step back, hands clasped at her waist; the Brown sister turned to reveal a winding path through the stacked books.

+++++

"You like her."

Marking her place with a discarded piece of paper, Helen looked up at her Warder. One ankle across his knee, Jem sat in his customary spot just inside her door. Surrounding the chair, a padded wingback much larger than anything else she owned, books and manuscripts were piled at a distance to accommodate his size.

"She appreciated my honesty," Helen replied.

Jem nodded. His curiosity peaked though her warder still felt wary. "How much did you tell her?"

Helen rolled her eyes; the man worried worse than a nursemaid. "Nothing important. The child was very fixated on knowing what I wanted. She seemed comfortable by the end, whether or not she believed my explanation."

Jem looked at the door, then at her, sitting back in his chair. "Do you think Verin has any interest in the child?"

Helen squinted at her Warder. He rarely pressed for so much information. He was concerned, and not just for her safety.

“More than likely not. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but following her put us one step closer to Verin. If she is interested in the letter Yillana delivered, so are we.”

"And if the trail goes cold?" As it’s had every other time was the unspoken half of his question, a point of contention as old as their Bond.

"Then we will continue, Gaidin, as we have every other time."

Knowing she wished for him to drop the matter, Helen flattened her palm to the desk when Jem spoke again.

"She's a little young, don't you think?"

Careful to hide her annoyance just as she attempted to dampen the sympathy she felt upon understanding his concern, Helen thought of Olywn instead.
"She may not be a good fit. If you remember, Gaidin, there would be close to a century between her and my last-" 

Helen paused. The oath would not let her say, partner . That arrangement denoted something mutually beneficial. Olywn’s antagonistic personality was not solely responsible for her ejection from the Tower.

"Between Olwyn," she managed.

Jem shivered.

"You've met the woman once!" Helen exclaimed. Her Warder's dislike for the now-Kinswoman was wholly unfounded.

"One time too many if you ask me," he mumbled.

"Our work is more important than one runaway Accepted or a Novice who asked too many questions." Helen knew he understood, but saying it aloud fortified her spirit.

"Catch her in a lie once, and look where that got you?" Her Warder sounded tired. It had been a truly harrowing experience to catch a Sister, supposedly oathbound to never speak an untrue word, in a blatant lie. Verin thought she was alone when she spoke to the shadowy figure. Helen knew enough of what she witnessed, crouched behind a broken bookshelf, to know it carried the Dark One’s taint.

"How many have we found on this chase? How many times have I had to pull you from the fire?"

Helen knew he spoke wholly out of concern for her safety. It rankled her just the same. Three Sisters found their oaths null and void, all Dark Friends, the last one confessed before she expired, but Verin was still out of reach. At first academic curiosity drove her search yet the further she dug, uncomfortable morality kept her hunting. Olywn’s violent exit had left Helen shy of acquiring help, but she needed a body more capable than her own, unafraid and unassuming.

Verin’s interest in the letter half-shoved under the Blue’s door was unmistakable. Reading and returning the letter to its carrier had succeeded in drawing Verin out again, though Jem was not convinced his meeting her when sent for tea should be enough to convince her of the other Sister's involvement. 

“If she is not right, we will keep searching,” Helen said. “Though you know there are many more dangers in this Tower. I cannot guarantee she will be safe.

Quietly nodding his assent if not his agreement, Jem picked up the book slid beneath his chair, settling in for a long night. After a century in the same room, the comfort she once found in its cluttered depth hollowed. While no great scholar Jem served as company, conversation, and, more often than not, a dose of practical insight, a reminder her Warder had lived most of his life beyond the Tower's internal turmoil.

Tracing the cover of her book, the edges frayed and worn, Helen paused her fingers on the flap of paper marking her spot, then pushed the tome aside. Finding ink and then having to rummage considerably for the accompanying quill, the blank paper she pulled from a drawer had a chunk ripped from the top, but the Novice she was writing to surely wouldn't mind.