Chapter Text
The sun was leaning westward through the windows of the Queen’s Blessing, the city’s noise faded to a dull hush, as if even Caemlyn had the sense to pause for a breath. The smell of various dishes wafted through the city as most people were either at home or a tavern to eat their supper.
Moiraine stood by the window now, hair returned to having been pinned back, dress perfectly adjusted, I, on the other hand, had elected to remain in a paired down version of the attire I had arrived in, electing to leave the vest and jacket removed for the time being and relax in simply the black pants and white tunic I had worn that day. It was a quiet calm, still warm with the connection we had shared, and the steps that we had taken.
She turned slightly, eyes catching the fading gold on the horizon, her posture serene but alert, as always. There was something restful in her silence now, though—less guarded. Not the mask she wore in the Hall or before nobles and rulers, but the woman beneath, private and self-possessed.
I watched her for a moment, content just to take in the peace of her presence, the way her fingers still rested over her naval even now, the way her breathing had synced to the hush of the room. I rose from the bed and slid on my boots, my steps still quiet on the wooden floor, and joined her by the window. For a while, neither of us spoke. I let me hand find hers where it rested, fingers twining without a word.
“You’ve seen too much of court for one day,” she said eventually, a slight smile tugging at her lips. “And far too much Andoran posturing.”
I gave a soft laugh. “Standing beside Morgase certainly didn’t make it easier. I don’t know how the woman manages to keep it together when seemingly every other person approaching the dais is a noble complaining about how they don’t control enough land or that their neighbour is trying to encroach.”
Moiraine arched a brow. “You realize that when you sit upon the Sun Throne, you will likely have to deal with much the same thing, do you not?”
I sighed, “Yes, that is why Morgase brought me to her court to begin with, so that I would no go into my first time sitting on a throne blind, and so I could have some level of practice and training to dealing with the squabbles of a court.”
Moiraine hummed in agreement, her gaze still fixed on the rooftops beyond the inn. “Morgase is wise to give you that exposure now. Few rulers who are not born into the role are gifted the opportunity to learn from another’s court before sitting on their own. And fewer still would accept the lesson.”
I squeezed her hand gently. “It’s not the lesson I mind. It’s knowing what is at stake if I fail to learn it well.”
She turned her head slightly, eyes searching mine. “You won’t fail.”
There was no doubt in her tone, no hesitation. I let the certainty in her words settle into me, grounding men ore than I expected. A soft breath passed between us.
“And besides,” she continued, “you will have two women who are rather adept at ruling by your sides that will steer you right should you falter.” She said the last part with a faint grin, as though she meant it to be more teasing despite the fact it was the reality we would soon live.
A knock came at the door—three quick raps, followed by a pause, then two more. Familiar, if not entirely expected.
Moiraine glanced toward it, then to me. I brushed her knuckles with my thumb before letting go, already halfway to the door when I heard a voice on the other side.
“You could’ve found it yourself, Thom,” Egwene was saying dryly. “You’ve known this inn longer than I’ve been alive—and don’t try to pretend you didn’t know which room was Moiraine’s.”
The door opened before I could finish my laugh.
Thom Merrilin stood on the threshold, his patchwork cloak nowhere in sight, though the weight of his presence remained unchanged. He looked windblown and mildly annoyed, as if he’d been dragged in rather than arrived of his own volition—but the glint in his eye gave him away.
“Well,” he said, voice rough with travel and smoke, “I hear you’ve had yourself quite a day.”
I stepped aside to let him in. “That seems to be going around.”
He stepped in with a slight bow of thanks to Egwene, who gave a knowing glance between the two of us—Moiraine finally removing her hand from her belly and smoothing her skirts by the window, and me still missing the vest and jacket I had entered with by the door. She made no comment, simply slipped inside and perched on the bed as though she’d never truly left.
Thom took in the room at a glance, sharp as ever, and made his way to one of the chairs, lowering himself with a slight grunt. “The whole city’s humming with your name still. Half the inns between here and the Palace figure you’re fit to unseat Morgase and wear the Rose Crown yourself.”
I snorted. “They couldn’t make me if they tried.”
Thom leaned back in the chair, producing his pipe from a pocket in his trousers. “They wouldn’t need to make you. All it’d take is the right whisper in the right ear, and you’d have all the people in the city who were rising against the Queen while Logain was being paraded through at your back with banners.”
Moiraine turned slightly at that, her voice calm but edged. “Andor does not crown kings.”
Thom’s eyes flicked to her, lips twitching. “Andor also doesn’t see men step between a queen and her assassin without drawing steel and taking him down with nothing but his bare hands.” He began to pack the pipe, his fingers deft even as his tone cooled slightly. “It’s been years since I’ve seen things so rattled. And all this based on a man who is welcomed into the Palace freely, given a room to stay in, and yet now people think he would make a fitting king.”
Moiraine’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she did not speak. Her silence was not agreement, nor was it dismissal. It was weighing, measuring—like the pause before pronouncing judgment.
I met Thom’s gaze, keeping my voice even. “I’m not here to wear a crown. You know that. We came to Caemlyn to get Morgase’s blessing for me to marry Elayne, no more, no less.”
Thom struck a match against the heel of his boot, lighting the pipe with a long pull before letting the smoke drift upward. “I know what you say. Doesn’t mean the people hear the same, nor does it mean they care.” Thom gestured with the stem of his pipe. “Folk don’t always need truth to set their hearts aflame. They just need a tale that feels true—and you’ve given them one. Stranger from Cairhien, handsome, strong, burns with fire and steps between the Queen and death itself without blade or Power. Folk are already spinning songs about it, I’ve no doubt.”
Egwene tilted her head. “And yet you’re not smiling. Usually you enjoy being ahead of a story.”
Thom gave a tired sigh, rubbing his knuckles over his mustache. “I like tales when I’m the one telling them. This one’s spinning itself. Fast. And if it keeps gathering thread like this, it won’t matter what you meant to do, Alex. You’ll be pulled right into the Pattern whether you like the weave or not, and even you won’t be able to undo it all.”
I looked between them, then down at my hands. For al the strength I carried, for all the taintless fire that lived within me, I felt the weight of something heavier than any sword: expectation. Not from those I loved—but from thousands I’d never met.
Moiraine’s voice was soft, but steel lay beneath it. “The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, but mortals still carry scissors, and they do cut threads. You are not of Andor, Alex, and though you were born in Cairhien you are not truly of there either, or Tar Valon where the Amyrlin confirmed you as the Lord Flameforged. You are something… else. And if they crown you in their hearts, they may expect you to rule them with your soul.”
A pause came after that, before an idea sprang to my mind. “What if we get the news out there of me marrying Elayne? Make it clear that I will be part of the royal family of Andor, but with Morgase’s backing and the heart of the Daughter-Heir?”
Moiraine’s eyes flickered with thought, the faintest crease forming between her brows. “It would anchor your place more firmly,” she said carefully. “More importantly, it would reinforce Morgase’s position as Queen. Publicly tying you to the Daughter-Heir with her blessing signals unity and strength within Andor’s ruling house—something the nobles and common folk alike respect. And the fact that some may call for you to take the throne here in Caemlyn would be at least partially quieted by the fact you would be part of the royal family.”
Thom nodded, pipe balanced thoughtfully between his fingers. “That’s the key. A public declaration wouldn’t just be about you—it would bolster Morgase’s hold on the throne by showing that she listens to the people, and respects those close to her. But wait… she gave you her blessing already?”
I gave a slight nod, keeping my gaze steady. “Yes, she did. Privately, for now. But if it is made public in the right way, it would surely help to bolster her hold on the throne and rally loyalty behind her. Especially with what the people are saying now, would it not?”
Thom exhaled slowly, the weight of the conversation settling over him. “Aye. The people need something solid to cling to in times like these—and they seem to have made you that symbol after you saved Morgase. Her blessing, and your union to Elayne, would be just that. It reminds everyone that the Queen has allies willing to stand with her, and ties you closer. It would work as a deterrent to many who would seek to work from the shadows.”
I met Thom’s gaze, feeling the truth in his words settle deep. “Then we make sure the right people hear it first—nobles, key allies—and let the news spread carefully. No reckless announcements, but deliberate steps to build that foundation.”
I looked to each person in the room and they all nodded assurance. I took that as the natural conclusion point of that discussion, not wanting to focus more on the crown I did not wish to claim, but instead shift to the one which I would be claiming back in Cairhien. I cleared my throat softly, shifting the weight of the conversation. “Right, that takes care of Andor—for now, though we know that we are here until a wedding happens. But Cairhien waits, and there is still much to be done before I could hope to claim that which we aim to take.”
Thom laughed at that, full and hearty. “Lad, given how fast the people here in Caemlyn took to calling for you to wear a crown, I have my doubts about how long it will take in Cairhien where you actually have a legitimate claim to it.”
I smiled at Thom’s laugh, a brief warmth in the weight of the evening and in the day that I had experienced. “Perhaps. But Cairhien’s shadows run deeper. The stakes there are far higher, and the game more ruthless… and once I announce myself fully, we all know my so called mother will stop at nothing but to try and taint whatever we look to do as something to bolster her plays in the Game.”
Moiraine’s voice was cool, precise. “Galldrian’s death has left Cairhien without a steady hand. House Riatin has no true claim, but that will not stop them from maneuvering, and all the while Colavaere and the other largest players of the Game circle the throne like crows to a corpse.”
Thom’s mirth had faded, the lines around his eyes tightening. “While her blood may run in your veins, lad, she never was interested in it until it became something that may benefit her. She will almost certainly try to appeal to you with some story of how she couldn’t have raised you but is so proud of what you have become. While we will aim to be with you the whole time and try to protect you from it all, you will almost certainly need to be on your guard just as much as you were in the throne room this morning.”
I nodded, the brief warmth of Thom’s laugh now tempered by the reminder of what lay ahead. “I’ll be ready,” I said, quieter than before. “I can’t say I’ve ever faced her in truth, but I know that there is no warmth to her, only calculation. I won’t fall prey to it.”
Thom nodded. “Good. Now then, they expect you back in the Palace do they not? And after what happened to the Queen today, I would quite like to join you and make sure that she is safe.”
I gave him a quizzical look, and he fixed me with a look that said he thought I would already know why he wanted to protect her. “Did you not know? I used to be the court bard for House Trakand… and we were briefly lovers after that.”
I gave him a sharp look, unaware that he had been so engaged with the Queen of Andor, the woman who would soon be a part of my family through marriage. Moiraine arched a single brow, but said nothing, merely studying Thom with an unreadable expression. Egwene on the other hand looked positively shocked by it all.
Thom’s admission lingered the air for a long beat, like the last note of a harp string left to vibrate into silence. I stared at him a moment longer, the sharp look softening only a touch as the pieces fell into place. Of course Thom Merrilin would have a history with royalty. Of course Morgase Trakand would have fallen for a man like him, once.
Moiraine said nothing, but the way her hand returned gently to rest across her belly spoke volumes. A subtle claim. A quiet reminder of where our bond lay now—where hers might soon deepen. Her expression, though, remained unreadable as ever. She could have been pondering Thom’s past, or weighing its consequences. Or, Lighth help me, she might have been indulging in one of her private games of foresight.
Egwene for her part, blinked. “You were lovers?” She repeated, half incredulous, half amused. “Thom, truly?”
The old gleeman smiled faintly, rubbing his mastaches. “Not something I expected to confess tonight, but yes. Briefly. After Taringail Damodred’s passing.” His eyes drifted toward the fire. “It wasn’t a thing meant to last. She was already a queen, and I was only a bard. But I loved her once, in my way.”
That softened Egwene’s expression, though it didn’t banish her surprise. “Does she know you’re back in Caemlyn?”
Thom gave a noncommittal shrug. “If she hasn’t heard already, she will before long. Word travels fast when the Queen’s Blessing has a certain lad from the stories under its roof.”
I exhaled slowly. “You mean to come back to the Palace with me, then?”
Thom nodded. “I’d rather not leave her unguarded. Not with what happened today—and not with what may still be crawling in the shadows. And… well.” He gave a small smile, just slightly wistful. “I’d like to see her again. If only from a distance.”
I glanced to Moiraine. She didn’t speak, but her gaze found mine, clear and steady. It told me everything I needed to know: that she trusted my judgment, but that this was not without its risks.
I turned back to Thom. “All right. But stay close. She’s just started to find her footing again, and Elayne—Elayne needs her mother strong, especially with the wedding needing to be planned and drawing ever nearer.”
At that, Egwene grinned faintly. “You say that as if you’re not half the reason she’s strong again, and almost the entire reason that she is still alive to be strong at all.”
I shook my head. “I only reminded her of the steel already there. Though I will admit… I had an odd feeling around her, as if there was a taint of some weave being put over her for quite some time. Perhaps that has something to do with what has been going on with her. Either way, I intend to see her defended—for Elayne’s sake, if nothing else.”
Moiraine’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at m words—not with suspicion, but with the sharpened focus of someone slotting a final piece into a puzzle long in play. “If there was a weave laid upon her,” she said quietly, “and subtle enough to escape notice until now… then whoever cast it was both skilled and cautious. Such things are rarely done without purpose—and rarely without consequence. Keep an eye out while you are in the Palace for anything strange, though we cannot be certain of any of this unless you see someone using the weaves on her. If you sense anything strange.. we need to know.”
“I will,” I said, my voice low. “If something was placed on her, then it wasn’t just to weaken her—it was to tilt the throne. To make Andor lean where it should have stood firm. But whatever its aim, I won’t let it take root again. Not now.” I looked between them, feeling the weight of what was let unspoken. “The people need her strong. Not just for Elayne, or her house—but for Andor itself. If the Lion Throne is to stand through what’s coming, it must be under a Queen no shadow can sway.”
Thom gave a slow nod, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Well said, lad. That sounds like a man who’s started to understand the stakes.” He glanced toward the window, where twilight had begun to dim the light. “Well, the Pattern has seen it fit to tie you to Elayne, but that also means you are tied to Andor.”
Moiraine’s gaze lingered on me a moment longer, though I felt bad that I had to leave her again after all that we had shared today. Egwene simply reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze, knowing that I had to leave, if only to keep up appearances and not lead to questions from Morgase or anyone in the palace.
“Right, Thom, we should head out, if I am much later it will come with more questions than we may be prepared to handle.” My voice carried a trace of sorrow—I never took joy in leaving any of the women I was bound to. But it was hardest now, knowing how deeply Moiraine had missed simply sleeping beside me last night, especially after how accustomed to it she had come to be while we were in the White Tower.
Thom gave me a knowing look as he rose, “Right, just let me grab my coat and we can be off.” He left the room at that, though I knew he would quickly be back.
I grabbed my vest, redoing the cinches and fixing it over my tunic, then pulling on the black jacket over the top. Moiraine came over and adjusted the collars, placing a kiss to my lips and giving a soft quiet word, “I will miss you, my flame, but it will be alright.” Her fingers lingered at my collar for a moment longer, her touch soft but steady. The bond between us pulsed with quiet warmth, a silent reassurance that we were still tethered, even when apart. I gave her a nod, not trusting myself to speak more than I already had. There were too many threads pulling at me, and I had no wish to let the sorrow in my heart show on my face—not when I still had to walk back into the lion’s den with calm and certainty.
Egwene rose and placed a kiss to my temple, her presence that of comfort—strong and constant, like the roots of an ancient tree. “You’re not alone in this,” she said quietly. “And you won’t have to bear it all yourself, no matter how much you try.”
I gave her a faint smile. “I know. Light help me, I know.”
The door creaked open again as Thom returned, coat slung over one shoulder and an air of readiness settling around him like a familiar cloak. He gave both women a short, respectful nod before turning to me. “Well then, my Lord Flameforged,” he said with a touch of amusement, “shall we brave the palace once more?”
I chuckled under my breath. “Lead the way, loyal bard. Let’s not keep the Queen, or her questions—waiting.”
With one last glance toward Moiraine, and a brief pulse of affection through the bond, I followed Thom out the door and into the hall, the hush of twilight wrapping around us like the breath before a storm. The Queen’s Blessing would soon be behind us, but the weight of what waited ahead—Morgase, wedding plans, and whatever shadows still lingered in the Palace—pressed forward with every step.
————————————————————
The streets of Caemlyn were quieter now, the last light of day casting long shadows across stone and shutter. We walked side my side, our boots clicking against cobblestones, the sounds muffled by the weight of thought and the hush of approaching dusk. For a time, we said nothing. Thom didn’t press, and I appreciated that—he was too old a wolf to go sniffing for trouble before it offered itself up.
But it wasn’t long before I found myself speaking anyway, voice low.
“It was easier on the river,” I said. “Everything moved forward at once pace. One bunk, one night, and no eyes watching. Ever since we got off the boats there have been expectations. Assumptions. And Light, I have felt the jealousy and longing from each of them when in turn, and poor Egwene hasn’t been able to share a bed with me since the river boat in the first place. All the while I feel terrible that I can’t make it all better for all of them.”
Thom glanced sidelong at me, his expression unreadable beneath that well-trimmed moustache, though his eyes, sharp and knowing, flicked across my face. “You’re not the first man to find himself at sea once he’s set foot on land,” he said dryly. “Though I suspect your storm runs deeper than most.”
I gave a quiet huff of breath, part frustration and part amusement. “That’s one way to put it.”
He nodded. “I’ve known queens with fewer demands on their time and heart. Let me tell you, lad—trying to please everyone is a fast road to breaking yourself in half. You love them, that much is plain. But love doesn’t mean setting yourself aflame to keep everyone else warm. Even if you carry a flame that doesn’t go out.”
I glanced ahead at the streets, eyes tracing the silhouette of the palace rising in the distance. “But I can bear it,” I said, softer now. “I’ve endured worse. And the moment I let one of them feel like she matters less, I lose something—maybe not her love, but the fairness of it all. The trust. I don’t want them to feel like they have to compete.”
Thom let out a low breath, more sigh than chuckle. “Then tell them that, boy. Say it straight, the way a man should. You’ve already done the hard part—bonded them, loved them, proposed to them. Now it’s time you trust them to help carry you. They didn’t fall in love with a perfect man. They fell for you—storm, flame, and all.”
We walked a while longer before I spoke again.
“Do you ever miss it?” I asked. “The road. The quiet. Not needing to be a part of something so large, no noble games to play.”
Thom smiled faintly, something wistful in it. “Some days, yes. But the world turns, boy. Even a gleeman finds the song changes under his hands. If the Pattern’s brought you here, to them, to all of this—maybe it’s because the old tunes won’t carry you forward anymore. You’ll need to write a new one, that’s what you weavers do, isn’t it?”
I fell silent at that, his words settling in me like coals left to glow. I didn’t have an answer yet—-not for the women I loved, nor the weight I bore between them—but maybe Thom was right. The answer wasn’t in trying to return to the simplicity of the river. It was in learning how to carry all of it forward without breaking.
The palace gates came into view, lanterns flickering like fireflies as guards stepped aside for us, though they had some sidelong glances at Thom, but no one interfered in my bringing him into the palace grounds, if only because of who I was or what I had done just today. As we crossed the threshold, I felt Elayne grow happier, and I hoped it was that she felt me nearing in the bond.
“I should clean up before I see her,” I murmured. The day’s dust still clung to my boots, and though the court garb was fine, I thought I had warn it long enough.
Thom gave a dry grunt. “Lad, you look fine, remember the first time she saw you, you were standing on a flaming tower covered in soot, ash, and blood after escaping a cell and taking down a Forsaken. Plus, I don’t think the Palace guard would take kindly to me walking up to Morgase alone.”
I laughed under my breath, the found quiet but real. “Fair. Light, when you say it like that, it sounds like something out of one of your tales.”
Thom arched a brow. “It is something out of one of my tales. Or it will be, once I have time enough to put ink to paper. Not every day a gleeman gets to travel with a man like you boy—and rarer still that it ends in wedding talk with a queen’s blessing.”
That drew another huff of amusement from me, though I shook my head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I still have to survive until the wedding day, and Elayne still has to say yes at the ceremony. And I imagine the Queen still has questions before the actual wedding day.”
Thom chuckled at that, adjusting the fall of his coat with a practiced sweep. “Questions? Oh, she’ll have questions, lad. That’s the Queen of Andor, and her daughter is not someone easily take. But don’t mistake questions for doubt. If she didn’t want this, she’d never have let you within ten paces of her daughter again, no matter who you are.”
I nodded, but the weight of it settle over me anyway. We moved through the halls inside the Palace and deeper into the west wing. Servants were still cleaning and going about their duties, but they knew better than to stop me by now, though they were never quite at ease. In truth, I didn’t fully know where Morgase would be, so I was navigating towards Elayne and simply hoped that she was still with her mother by now.
The tapestry-lined halls seemed quieter than usual, the kind of hush that followed upheaval. Maybe it was the lateness of the hour, or maybe the palace itself was holding its breath after the attempt on the QUeen’s life. I kept my pace steady, boots soft on polished stone, Thom just a half-step behind. I didn’t speak again until we reached the solar wing, where the scent of rose oil lingered faintly in the air. There were two guards posted here—Queen’s Guard, not Palace. The switch was subtle, but I caught it, and so did Thom, judging by the slight flick of his gaze. These men were alert, and the moment they recognized me, they straightened.
“My Lord,” one said, saluting with a hand to chest. “The Queen is within. Her Majesty and you betrothed, the Daughter-Heir.”
I inclined my head, grateful. “Thank you. I won’t keep them long.”
He didn’t answer, but he stepped aside without protest, opening the heavy oak door for me. Light bless Elayne for making sure I didn’t have to argue my way through. Thom, however, was another story, the Queen’s Guard quickly moved to block the door after I was through, barring him from entry.
Thom’s eyes flicked to the guards, then back to me with a half grin. “Well, I suppose some audiences require a bit more tact than others.”
I shot him a look, weighing my options of what to do. “I’ll speak to the Queen. Just… hold tight out here for a minute.”
He gave a low chuckle, though it was tinged with impatience. “Always the diplomat, aren’t you? Fine. I’ll keep an ear to the door and my eyes sharp.”
I chuckled at that and then moved deeper into the room. Inside, the solar was warm and lit by firelight, the rich scent of rose mingling with parchment and old wood. There, standing near the window that overlook the gardens, was Elayne. Her posture was tense, but when she spotted me, a flicker of relief softened her expression. Morgase sat by the hearth, regal even in her weariness, eyes sharp though she looked as though she wished to rest.
“Elayne,” I said softly as I approached, dropping a respectful nod toward her mother. “I hope I am not too late.”
Elayne turned fully to me, her hand slipping into mine as if to make sure I was actually there. “You’re right on time, any later though, and Mother would have been sending the guard to every corner of Caemlyn and not let them return without you.” She said it with a sly grin, though I knew she wasn’t joking.
I took a look to Morgase now, “I apologize for any undue concern that I may have caused you, Your Grace… but I have brought someone that you once knew, and at least was once someone you loved.”
Mortise’s eyes flicked toward the door where Thom lingered, her gaze sharpening for a brief moment. Then she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, the trace of a smile touching her lips—a shadow of old memories.
“You’ve brought Thom Merrilin,” she said quietly, voice steady but layered with meaning. “A familiar face, if not slightly older than when last I saw him, and certainly not one I expected to see again.”
I moved to step closer to the door where Thom was, but Elayne’s grip tightened just slightly on my hand and she pulled me back towards her, and I knew it meant she did not want me leaving her side for the moment being. I understood her meaning and stayed near her for what I had to say. “Thom has been with us throughout our journey thus far, and has been a steadfast ally this entire time. He comes as he wished to insure your safety, especially after the attempt that occurred today. He can blend in with the rest of the court far better than any other guard, and as you know, he knows these halls and their dangers well.”
Morgase’s expression did not soften, but neither did it harden further. She leaned forward slightly in her chair, resting her hands on her knees, regal still despite the fatigue behind her eyes. “I know well what Thom is capable of,” she said. “Both for good… and otherwise. The question is not whether he can navigate the court. It is whether I can trust him to do so without causing chaos in the process.”
Elayne’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Mother, you once did. And I know you’ve had cause to question many loyalties these past years—but if ever there was a man to bet on in a storm, it is Thom Merrilin.”
I added gently, “He’s not here to press for favour or stir old ghosts. Only to help. The same way he’s helped me, and Elayne, and all of the others. You need eyes that see without being seen. He’s not the man he once was, but he still remembered how the Game is played, and he still cares for you to want to see you safe.”
Morgase looked between the two of us—her daughter, standing tall with her hand tightly in mine, and me, still caked in bits of dust from the walk through the city, speaking with conviction on behalf of a man she once banished from her court. The fire crackled behind her, casting wavering light across her features as she studied us in silence.
Finally, she exhaled softly. “Light help me… I remember when he played for my court and made me laugh when laughter was in short supply. I remember the sharpness of his tongue and the softness behind it… if he has truly changed—or even if he hasn’t—I suppose I am strong enough now to face whatever truth time has made of him.” She glanced toward the door. “Let him in then. I will not have this reunion played out through wood and whispers.”
I gave Elayne’s hand a gentle squeeze before motioning to the guards and Thom that it was okay for him to come through. He gave a brief nod, smoothing his coat as he stepped past me, and then paused just inside the room. For a moment, he and Morgase simply looked at one another—no words, no movement, just the weight of years filling the space between them.
“Elayne,” Morgase said, not looking away from Thom, “perhaps you and your betrothed should give us a moment.”
Elayne hesitated, her fingers tightening around mine just briefly before she looked to me. Her eyes asked the question before her lips did.
“The two of us will wait outside,” I said softly. “Call if you need us.”
Morgase nodded, and I pulled Elayne along with me, knowing that she likely wasn’t the happiest about leaving her mother alone in that moment, even if it was with someone we both knew and trusted, she still knew that her mother was going through something emotional and had wanted to support her. I let the door click shut behind us, and Elayne moved to lean against the wall of the corridor. I didn’t hear anything come from within the room immediately, but whatever was passing between them was clearly emotionally heavy, and as such I decided not to try to listen in on it, but to join the woman who would be my wife against the wall.
She didn’t say anything at first. Her arms were folded loosely across her chest, and though she tried to appear composed, the tension in her shoulders betrayed her. I leaned against the wall beside her, close but not to crowd her, letting the silence sit as long as she needed it to.
After a few moments, she exhaled through her nose, a short breath that wasn’t quite a sigh. “She still loves him,” Elayne said quietly. “Even if she won’t admit it yet—not to herself, and certainly not to him.”
I glanced sideways at her. “You felt it too then?”
She nodded. “A flicker. Just enough to recognize the shape of it. It was like…like memory brushing against fresh pain. Sharp, but not unwelcome. Do you think Thom still has feelings for her as well?”
“Oh, I know Thom still has some amount of feelings for her, though I doubt he will want to talk about it right now. He truly is here to try to protect your mother, nothing more and nothing less.”
Elayne nodded at that, and finally uncrossed her arms if only for a moment as she took a breath and let that settle in her chest, before turning with a more intent focus to me and crossing her arms over her chest, it was clear now I was to be quizzed—or rather interrogated—about what had occurred while I had been away from the Palace.
“So,” Elayne said, “you know by now that I felt that entire ordeal in the bond… was it Moiraine or Egwene?”
I gave a quiet laugh, not mocking, just resigned. “Moiraine,” I said meeting her eyes. “It wasn’t planned, but it was quite rather romantic in the end… as the first time with each of you has been. She actually used a weave to allow herself the chance to bear a child… so we may possibly be adding to the family rather early.”
Elayne blinked, and for a moment her expression didn’t change—then her eyebrows lifted, mouth parting slightly. “Light,” she breathed. “She… she did that? And you—?” She stopped herself, a flurry of thoughts clearly flying behind her eyes as she processed what that meant. Then a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Of course she would. Moiraine doesn’t do anything half way.”
“She doesn’t,” I agreed softly. “It wasn’t about legacy or duty. Not really. She wanted to choose it, to allow the possibility of it and protect that opportunity. Don’t misunderstand, she isn’t forcing it to happen, just allowing the possibility. Though, the way she was holding her belly you would think she could already feel it taking root in her.” I sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of my neck.
Elayne stepped closer, her expression unreadable for a heartbeat. Then she reached out and pulled the hand from the back of my neck, lacing her fingers gently through mine. “It’s alright,” she said, her voice steadier than I expected. “I’m not upset. Surprised, yes, and planning when you and I will start trying, even more so—but… she’s a part of us, so is Egwene. And if there is a child, then that child will be a part of us, too.” She exhaled slowly, searching my face. “Did you think I’d be angry?”
“Think? No. Fear? Very much so,” I admitted. “You’ve always supported what we share, all of us, but this felt different. It happened so fast, and after everything today… it’s a lot. For everyone.”
Elayne nodded, her gaze dropping for a moment. “It is. But we knew this wouldn’t be simple. Loving you—it means loving all of you. And loving Moiraine, in her way, is part of that.” She lifted her eyes again, softer now. “Besides, I know you didn’t choose lightly. And I felt the depth of the emotions that went through you while it was happening, though I didn’t know what exactly they pertained to until now.” Elayne’s thumb brushed gently across the back of my hand, grounding me in the moment in something steady and real between us. “It wasn’t just duty or passion,” she continued. “It felt… deep. Rooted. And I knew, even before you said it, that it wasn’t Egwene this time.” Her lips twitched, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Egwene would’ve found some way to have been louder about it, to gloat about it all.”
That earned a soft laugh from me, one that pulled tension from my chest. “That’s true. Egwene would have loved every moment of getting to gloat about bedding me again. Would’ve had a witty remark ready to go the moment the bond settled.”
“She’d have found a way to use you as a transmitter and broadcast it through the bond if she could,” Elayne said, the smile blooming fully now, bright and mischievous. Then she sobered slightly, drawing closer until her free hand pressed lightly to my chest. “But this—what you and Moraine shared—feels like it was something that needed to happen. And not just for her.” She tilted her head. “What did it change for you?”
I hesitated, surprised by the question—not because it was unexpected, but because I hadn’t quite formed the answer for myself yet. “It…centered something,” I said slowly. “Like another piece of the Pattern clicked into place. I don’t fully know how to explain it. But… I think it helped me to realize more of what I want, and part of that is that I want to become a father. I want children, though I don’t fully know what that would look like with what has to be ahead of us.”
Elayne’s eyes shone and her smile became radiant. “Light, you’re going to be wonderful,” she said, her voice barely more than a breath. “Fierce, protective, stubborn beyond reason—but full of heart.” Her hand tightened on mine. “And any child of yours, of ours, will grow up knowing they are loved beyond measure.”
The swell of emotion in my chest nearly stole the air from my lungs. I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear that—needed her to not only accept what had happened with Moiraine, but to see the shape of the future I’d barely begun to imagine, and to believe in it with me. “I want that with you,” I said quietly, “when the time is right. When Andor is stable. When we have Cairhien securely. And when we’re not dodging assassins or Darkfriends at every turn.”
Elayne chuckled softly, though tears shimmered faintly in her eyes. “So… next month, then?”
I barked a surprised laugh, and she grinned up at me, cheeky and bold and utterly fearless. I leaned down to kiss her—slow, lingering, grateful. When we finally parted, she rested her forehead against mine. “Let’s build a future that has room for that dream,” she whispered. “For all of us. However strange or complicated it might look. Though if Moiraine is intent on starting to try for a child with you, I will not be outdone, and you surely must know that.”
I grinned at her, warmth blooming in my chest despite the chaos that lingered just outside our quiet moment. “I wouldn’t dream of underestimating you, Elayne Trakand. If you set your mind to something, I’m lucky enough just to keep up.”
Her eyes sparkled with that fierce determination I’d long since fallen in love with. “Good,” she said, with a playful lift of her chin. “Because I fully intend to win. Not that it’s a race, of course. But if it were…”
“I would be entirely at your mercy,” I finished for her with a wink.
She gave a satisfied hum, then glanced toward the door where her mother and Thom still remained in conversation. The smile on her lips softened. “I hope they find peace in there. Whatever form it takes.”
“I think they will,” I said. “Even if it’s not simple or perfect. Maybe especially because it isn’t.”
Elayne nodded slowly, then leaned into my side, her head resting lightly against my shoulder. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to me, eliciting a laugh from her while working to ground myself in her presence. Her laugh was soft, melodic—a balm against the heaviness of the day. She exhaled, the tension easing from her body as she nestled in beside me, the weight of her trust a quiet comfort.
“Light,” she murmured, almost to herself. “If I’d known the world could hold a moment like this—well I still don’t think I could have prepared for it. But I am happy that I am able to be a part of it, and a part of you.” She toyed with the edge of my sleeve, as if she somehow was not confident in her words, or that I would appreciate them for what they were.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said, the words low but certain. “I am lucky to have you in my life, and that I will have you as my wife… how did the planning with your mother go?”
Elayne let out a small breath, clearly caught between the warmth of the moment and the weight of what had come before. “Better than I expected, truly. Once she stopped trying to intimidate me into backing down from what I had planned and accepted that I wasn’t asking for her permission to have my wedding the way I want it so much as ensuring she was part of it… things softened.” Her fingers brushed against mine, lacing together without hesitation. “She also asked some good questions. Practical ones. She wanted to know where we would live, how we would manage responsibilities, what this meant for the line of succession in Andor and how we would handle it when you rule over Cairhien despite our ties given that I am someday to be Queen here.”
I nodded slowly. “All questions we needed to face eventually. I’m glad she asked them now, before anyone else does in a less generous mood.”
“She didn’t seem particularly generous,” Elayne said with a wry smile, though it didn’t quite hide the affection beneath. “But she was honest. And underneath all of her inquisitive nature and suspicion, I know that it is purely done out of caring… and not just for me. I think she is already starting to see you as someone she has to protect, just as fiercely as you protected her today.”
“I doubt she would ever admit it outright,” I said with a faint grin. “But I will take the progress as a small victory.”
Elayne gave a soft, musical laugh at that, the tension in her shoulders finally easing as she leaned her head gently against mine. “You’ve earned more than one victory today,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “You risked everything without a thought for you own safety. Not for power, not for glory… simply because it was the right thing to do. I think that’s what shook her most, though how you handled yourself in the court certainly also gave her pause—-Light, she was speaking of you as if you were an experienced courtier and yet it was your first time ever standing in front of the court. You acted not like a man trying to win favour, but like someone who already belonged.”
She lifted her head slightly to meet my eyes again, her expression soft but proud. “She told me what you did,” Elayne said. “How you carried yourself. She practically raved about it, even if she tried to dress it in cold formality. You were poised, measured, respectful—but never deferential. She said you reminded her of someone who knew what it meant to be watched from every angle, but who still chose his own path.”
I blinked, not having expected quite that much. “She said all that?” I paused while Elayne nodded. “Well then, it would seem I may have been too modest in my description of events to you after court.”
Elayne grinned, her eyes glittering with amusement and something deeper. “Yes, you were. You told me about the petitioners and the nobles whispering behind their hands, and to your credit, you did tell me of how you stopped my mother from facing death. But you failed to mention that you challenged one of the High Seats—gently, but clearly—without once overstepping, and coming to a resolution that was not only the correct action to take, but that will help the people hold to the faith that there is someone out there looking out for them.”
“It didn’t feel as though I was being gentle in the moment,” I admitted. “And from the way that Lord Rahvin stared me down, you would have thought I was suggesting stripping him of any and all power and titles he held. But I knew that if it was simply dismissed, that woman would never see justice for her son, and I couldn’t stand for that. When your mother asked for my opinion on what I would do, I knew I couldn’t answer with a level of reserve that would see justice be avoided.”
Elayne’s eyes softened as I spoke, and she laced her fingers through mine again. “You chose to see what must be done,” she said quietly. “Not as a political move, not to curry favour, but because someone needed to stand up and say that her grief mattered. That’s the difference, Alex. That’s why the court responded the way they did. And why my mother did too, even if she’s trying very hard to keep her distance behind her crown.”
She gave my hand a squeeze, her voice almost reverent. “That’s why it worked. And that is why you work as a ruler, and will continue to do so, as long as you hold onto that part of you.”
I let that moment hang in the air, the weight of it sinking slowly into my bones. “You know,” I said after a breath, “when I first stepped into that room, I felt like every eye was a sword pointed at my chest. But by the end of it, I wasn’t afraid anymore. Not of them, or of failing. I only cared about doing what felt true in that moment, and hopefully of making you proud.”
Elayne’s expression gentled further, touched by something quiet and profound. “You always make me proud,” she said, the words so steady and sure they seemed to settle the air itself. “Not because of how you stand in front of the court, or how you handle yourself around nobles, though that was something to hear——but because even in the centre of power, surrounded by people weighing every word and breath, you were still you. You didn’t let it change who you are.:
I drew in a slow breath, letting her words settle against the ache I hadn’t realized I still carried in my chest. “It was one of the few times I’ve felt like I wasn’t pretending while being told that I was a noble,” I admitted. “Like I wasn’t standing in someone else’s shoes and hoping no one noticed.”
Elayne’s thumb brushed softly across my knuckles, a small and grounding touch. “That’s because you weren’t,” she murmured. “You belonged in that room, Alex. You belonged at my mother’s side. And whether she admits it or not, she saw it too. Maybe not as her equal in name, yet, but in heart? In strength? In what you fight for? She sees it. I see it. And everyone in that court knew it too. You will make a fine King of Cairhien.”
A silence bloomed between us, warm rather than strained, filled with shared breath and the quiet awareness of how far we’d both come. I watched her for a moment, golden hair mussed slightly from the pillow, the curve of her cheek soft in the candlelight. Then I smiled, just a little. “You know,” I said softly, “you’re dangerous when you talk like that.”
Elayne arched an elegant brow, but her grin curved slow and knowing. “Why? Because I’ll convince you you’re more than you think you are?”
“Because you already have,” I said, and leaned forward, brushing a kiss to her brow. “And because it makes me want to build myself to be a man worthy of how you see me.”
Elayne’s eyes shimmered, and for a heartbeat, she said nothing. Just watched me, all the amusement faded into something far fiercer and more vulnerable than any smile could hold. “You already are,” she whispered. “You always have been.”
She reached up then, fingers curling gently at the back of my neck, and drew me in until our foreheads were connected once again. Her breath was warm against my lips. “But if you mean to keep growing, I won’t stop you. I’ll stand beside you, every step, and all I ask is that you keep some space for me.”
My hand slid further to her waist, grounding both of us in that moment. “There will always be space for you in my life, and in my heart.”
Her fingers lingered softly at the nape of my neck, grounding me even as the quiet between us stretched comfortably. For a moment, it felt like the world outside our peaceful bubble in that hallways had paused—there was no need for anything else—just the steady beat of two hearts finding their own rhythm.
Then, from beyond the heavy oak door, a clear voice broke that spell.
“Alex, Elayne,” Morgase’s summons was calm but carried the weight of authority. “If you would please return to us.”
Elayne straightened, a hint of a reluctant smile playing at her lips as she slipped her hand from mine. I gave her a look, silent and full of promise—we would continue this moment later, when we had the privacy of our own room rather than some guarded hallway. Together, we stepped toward the door, taking deep breath before crossing back into the chamber where duty and destiny awaited us.
The door closed softly behind us, though the shift in atmosphere inside the solar was anything but subtle. Morgase stood near the earth, one hand resting lightly on the stone mantel. The flames crackled low beneath it, casting flickering light across the room. Her expression, though composed, held none of the chill I’d seen earlier in the day—only a distant weariness, as if her thought had wandered far beyond the walls of Caemlyn’s Royal Palace. Thom sat in the high-back chair beside her, one leg crossed over the other, his fingers idly tapping the silver-handled cane propped beside him. He looked up as we entered and gave me the smallest of nods—whether approval or understanding I could not say.
“Thank you for waiting,” Morgase said, turning to face us fully. Her voice was calm, but no longer detached. “I needed a moment to speak with Master Merrilin in private before making any final decisions.”
Elayne didn’t speak, but I felt her shift subtly closer to me. Not clinging—Elayne never clung—but steadying, a daughter-heir reminding herself she could trust the ground beneath her feet. I stayed silent as well, this was not my moment to direct; it was Morgase’s.
She studied me, then her daughter. Then, slowly, her gaze returned to me. “Today has been… illuminating in many ways. Alex, you made many waves today, and I am proud that I will be able to call you my family soon enough. Not only that, but you have saved my life, and brought back a man that I thought I would never see again.” She paused there for a moment. “Both of us needed to see one another again… the way things ended the last time was rather regrettable. We both said things that should not have been said.”
Thom shifted in his seat but did not interrupt. His eyes met Morgase’s briefly, and something unspoken passed between them—an echo of pain, perhaps, or old love, frayed but not fully unravelled. I didn’t press. Whatever had passed between them once, it wasn’t mine to intrude upon, but the significance of it settled around the room like dust.
“I was wrong,” Morgase went on quietly, “to cast him out the way I did. Wrong to let pride take the place of wisdom. And yet, here he is, returned of his own accord—because of you.” I inclined my head, but didn’t speak. It didn’t feel right to thank her for something that sounded more like a confession than a compliment.
She drew in a breath, as if bracing herself. “That doesn’t mean I will surrender my daughter’s future so entirely without scrutiny, though you do have my blessing to get married, I just wish to know and understand more first. And part of that is knowing your full truth, which Thom has suggested there may be more to than what I already know.”
My heart beat heavy in my chest, though Elayne placed her hand on my shoulder with a gentle squeeze, and Thom met my gaze to give me a reassuring nod, he knew that I was ready to share what needed to be said to Morgase, and had likely already tried to lay the groundwork for it. I looked to Morgase now, keeping as steady as I could manage. “You are correct that there is more to know,” I said holding strong. “Though know that it is not because I meant to hide anything from you, or to try and deceive you, but merely because of the pace and timing at which everything has moved.”
She didn’t speak, only nodded once, the same gesture Elayne used when she prepared herself to receive difficult truths.
“I did not plan to bond your daughter the way it happened,” I said. “But the bond we share is not a traditional one, not only because Elayne was not the one to weave it… I was. It also holds no dominance in it, unlike a traditional warder bond, though it does allow me to feel the distance to my bond mate, the direction they are in, their emotional state, general health condition, and—if they are intense enough—know the thoughts they have pertaining to me.” I took a breath, preparing for the next part of what I needed to say. “And Elayne is not the only woman who I share this type of bond with… nor the only woman who I am fated to marry. I am also engaged in a bond with Egwene al’Vere of the Two Rivers, and Moiraine Damodred.”
Morgase didn’t flinch, but her eyes narrowed slightly—sharp and assessing. Not angry, not yet. But certainly alert now in a way that made the room feel smaller, heavier. Her gaze flicked to Elayne, and then to Thom. Whatever groundwork he’d laid, she was beginning to piece the rest of it together herself.
“I see,” she said slowly, her tone unreadable. “Three bonds. Three women.” Her voice wasn’t cold, but it had the weight of a ruler’s scrutiny behind it. “And you expect my daughter to share a marriage—her future—with two others?”
Elayne stirred beside me, but I placed my hand gently over hers before she could speak. “I expect nothing of her,” I said. “I only know that I love her—and that she shares that same love for me. None of this was done without her knowledge, or her choice. While it is… unconventional to say the least, it was a choice made openly by each of us after careful consideration and communication. It was not a choice forced on any one person, or made without the inclusion and knowledge of everyone involved.”
Morgase stied me in silence, her expression unreadable—but I could feel the weight of her thoughts behind those keen eyes. The silence stretched long enough for the crackle of the fire in the hearth to become almost uncomfortable. At last, she folded her hands before her and spoke, not as a mother in this instance, but as Queen of Andor.
“You understand the implications of what you’ve just said?” She asked, voice measured. “What it means for my daughter, not simply as a woman but as Daughter-Heir of Andor? That her husband, her King Consort, will share his heart and soul with two other women as well? And all this while taking the Sun Throne at the same time?”
I nodded slowly. “I do. I’ve considered it deeply, and so has Elayne, and the other two women involved in the arrangement. It will not be a hidden thing, nor a source of scandal we try to bury. We mean to build something whole and strong—together. With honesty, and with respect. Andor will never have a King Consort that makes their Queen feel less than honoured, or as though she is divided in her love. I would sooner give up every title and every last bit of power I possess than see her, Elayne, hurt.”
Morgase’s gaze didn’t waver, but I saw the faintest shift—something thoughtful behind the seeming cuendillar in her eyes. Not approval, not yet. But not outright rejection either. It was almost enough to make me believe she had come to trust me already.
“You speak well,” she said at last. “Too well, perhaps, for someone so young.” Her eyes moved to Elayne. “And you, Daughter? You would accept this? To share not just affection, but loyalty and legacy with two others?”
Elayne lifted her chin. “I already have, Mother. Not blindly, and not for a lack of other choices. But because I love him—and because I trust the other women as well. We’ve chosen this path together, not because we must, but because it is what we want. I know it is unusual, but… I would not be happy if I had to give up a part of myself just to satisfy tradition. And I would not be the Queen Andor needs if I ruled over it with only half my heart.”
That gave Morgase pause. She sat back slightly in her chair, folding one leg over the other, her expression turning contemplative. “You make it sound almost noble,” she murmured. “A Queen who rules whole, because she loves whole. And a man who offers his loyalty divided among three, yet undiminished for it.” Her eyes snapped to me again. “Tell me, then, what is your plan? I assume you have one. You came in here with one to marry my daughter, and I doubt that is the end of where your plans lie if you are to take Cairhien. So what are they?”
That question landed like a stone dropped into still water—rippling outward with weight and expectation. I straightened slightly, though not in defiance. Morgase wasn’t testing my pride in this case; she was testing my vision. And that was a test I could not afford to fail, and it was one I had been preparing for.
“My plan,” I said, “is first to marry Elayne, less because there is a rush, or that it is important to securing me a spot further in the game in Cairhien, but because it is important to her, and to me. In moving to Cairhien, we all already know of the current power struggle going on within the city due to the passing of King Galldrian,” I caught a flicker of something across Thom’s face, even now which made me suspect he knew something of it, but I had no doubt he would have his own reasons if that were the case. “I am to use this unrest to throw my name in the ring as a stabilizing force. In order to aid my claim and make it more legitimate, I will be seen in close proximity to Moiraine, which just happens to work well with her being another of my betrothed. While I still would prefer to avoid wearing a crown, it would seem it is what is needed of me, and as such, I will not decline it.”
Morgase steepled her fingers under her chin. “So you mean to play Daes Dae’mar in Cairhien, wearing honesty like armour and trusting love to guide you through a pit of knives.” She didn’t say it with scorn. If anything, there was a trace of admiration beneath the steel of her words. Still, it wasn’t approval yet. Not from a Queen who had ruled alone, and survived betrayals from men farm ore practiced than I. “You’ll find Cairhien eats noble hearts for breakfast,” she continued. “Andor may not play the Game with the same poison on its tongue, but I know enough of it to tell you this: if you let them see your heart too clearly, they will find a way to use it against you.”
“I’m counting on it,” I said softly. Her brows rose a fraction at that. “I don’t need to hide what matters to me. I’ll protect it, just as fiercely as I protected you this morning in court—but I won’t lie about it. Let them try to use my love as a weapon. They’ll find that it burns hotter than they expected, and that it has the power to bite back.” Elayne smiled faintly at that, and I felt her pride through the bond. “More than that, choosing to hide what I am, or who I am, is playing the Game the way they want me to, where I intend to send that board toppling to the ground, though by the time they notice it being done, it will be too late to intervene.”
Morgase was silent for a long moment. Her fingers, still steepled beneath her chin tapped once against her lower lip as she studied me. Her gaze was steady, not cold, but measuring—as hough she were weighing me not just as a suitor, or even as a would-be prince or king, but as something deeper. A man who could be trusted with the weight of her daughter’s future, and maybe Andor’s too.
“You speak like a man who understands exactly how dangerous the Game is,” she said at last. “And yet you intend to play it without a mask, and without a knife hidden up your sleeve.” Her mouth quirked faintly. “I suppose it says something that I almost believe you might succeed at it.”
“I think of it like this,” I said. “A rose—beautiful to behold, pleasing to those who wish it no harm. But covered in thorns all the same. You’re right, I won’t hide a knife up my sleeve… but sometimes the most dangerous things are those right in front of us.” I flicked a glance toward Thom with a smile. “I intend to have Thom by my side the whole way. And what could be more dangerous than a man who blends into any crowd while wielding words and knives in equal measure?”
The smile slipped from my face as I continued. “Don’t mistake the fact I wasn’t born to nobility or the Game as a lack of understanding. And as for dismantling Daes Dae’mar…well, that is not a wholly noble aim.” I hesitated and my face sunk further. “It was the Game that saw me grow up without a mother. Because she couldn’t risk being known as the noble woman who had a child with a blacksmith, couldn’t let it hurt her standing, so she decided to abandon me entirely.”
The words came out colder than I had hoped. My smile had fully faded, the old ache threading through my chest like cooling steel. No matter how I tried to cloak it in strategy, the truther remained: Some games cost more than they could ever be worth. Knowing more now why my mother hadn’t been a part of my life, it only made the feelings of inadequacy and sorrow even deeper, that somehow status was worth more than her own child. I almost felt like I could shrivel inside myself all over again after that, though I knew that now was not the time.
The silence that followed was different than before. Not contemplative or testing, but heavy with the emotion I had just shown.
Elayne didn’t speak, though I felt the ripple of emotion through the bond—pain, deep and aching, but not just for me. For the child I had been. For the choices my mother had made. She moved slightly beside me, as if reaching out in spirit if not in body. Thom, for once, said nothing at all. No sardonic twist of the mouth. No well-timed deflection. Just the set of his jaw and the faint lowering of his eyes—respect, perhaps, or recognition.
Morgase exhaled softly, almost imperceptibly. “So you do understand,” she said, her voice low. “Perhaps more than I had thought.” She leaned back slightly in her chair, as though some tight string had eased in her spine. Her gaze didn’t lose its keenness, but it no longer cut. “Your mother’s choice may have been foolish—and it was certainly cowardly—but you’re wrong about one thing.” Her eyes, striking as they were, pinned me quite quiet finality. “It wasn’t status she chose over you. It was fear. Fear of what the world would say. Of what it would do. She let that fear rule her, and it made her small..” Morgase’s lip curled faintly, not with cruelty, but with disdain—for the choice, not the woman. “You are not small, Alex. That’s what makes you dangerous. And no matter what she had chosen, you never could have been small. She made the wrong decision, of that I am certain, and nothing can change that. But there may come a time when you find you are able to forgive her, and welcome her as a mother… though I would far rather see someone else fill that role.” She said it as if she intended to step into that role herself, which I suppose my marriage to Elayne—if she still permitted it—would allow her that step.
I swallowed hard, unsure what to say. Of all the things I had expected to hear from a queen, this… wasn’t it. Not pity. Not scorn. But something fierce and protective. Something that felt strangely like kinship. “I… thank you, Your Majesty,” I managed. My voice came out rough than I liked, but she didn’t seem to mind. “That means more than you know.”
“I suspect I know precisely how much,” she said, her tone clipped but not unkind. She glanced toward Elayne now, her expression shifting—something softer behind her eyes, though it never quite lost its edge. “You’ve chosen a man who feels deeply and speaks honestly, Daughter. That’s rarer in a court than a sunrise without smoke.”
Elayne straightened at that, and I felt her shift emotionally through the bond—gratitude, yes, but also a steely pride. “I didn’t choose him to win favour or to rebel,” she said quietly. “I chose him because I love him. Because he challenges me, enters me, and sees me not as a symbol, but as myself. I know that I must walk the path of the Lion Throne, and I would rather walk it with a partner who understands pain and still chooses love. Even if that love is… shared.”
Morgase blinked, then tilted her head slightly. “That was a carefully chosen phrase.”
“It was the truth,” Elayne said. “You said it yourself: fear makes people small. I refuse to be ruled by it.” She reached out and took my hand again, more firmly this time and directly in front of her mother. “I will not let the world make me ashamed of loving a man who is bound to more than one woman, nor of loving a man who was never meant to be part of the Game—and yet might unravel it just by being who he is.”
Morgase’s brow arched, but she didn’t interrupt. If anything, she looked thoughtful, like she was considering a move several turns down the board. “And the other women? Egwene and Moiraine?”
Elayne didn’t hesitate. “They help in ways that others could not understand. We are three different women, and we all support Alex in different ways, but we support each other as well. And while it may seem strange, it lessens the burden on all of us, having more support, and more love than most would know what to do with. I am happy to invite not just Alex, but Moiraine, and Egwene, and whatever children may be had together, into my family.”
Morgase’s lips parted, just slightly, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in her eyes that I hadn’t expected. Not surprise— but something more like reevaluation. The Queen of Andor, master of her court, a woman who had won wars and taken her crown for her family, was left reevaluating what she believed to be best, and how she chose to see family, romance, and love. Thom reached out and took her hand at that, and it was clear the two of them had resparked some level of what had once been between them.
“I have seen it myself, Morgase. The four of them… they are precisely what each other need. I wouldn’t try to get in between them any more than I would get in between the tide rushing to the shore. It may be hard to understand, but it is beautiful, the bond which they all share amongst each other.”
Morgase didn’t pull her hand away. If anything, her fingers curled more firmly around Thom’s, her gaze left mine and looked down to their union at her side. For a long moment there was silence. “You speak as though love alone is shield enough,” Morgase said quietly to him, voice softer than I had heard it before. “We both know that love can be both armour and arrow. It can save… and it can destroy.”
“I know, but this… it’s something else. They chose one another freely, and stand together as equals. Your son already knows it, yet he chooses to still be best friends with the Flameforged lad. And if nothing else, you’ve seen how happy he makes Elayne, and you know I would protect the girl from absolutely anything. He has my approval in all this, and I know he is deserving of yours too.”
Morgase’s expression didn’t shift at once, but her thumb brushed slowly across the back of Thom’s hand, a subtle motion that spoke more than any words might have in that moment. Her gaze lifted, steady and regal once more, but no longer remote. “I would be a fool to ignore the strength I see in my daughter,” she said finally. “And an even greater fool to overlook the wisdom in her choice of allies… and of love.” Her eyes returned to me. “You have not only my daughter’s heart, but her trust. And though I may find this arrangement unorthodox, I would be blind not to see the care you show to each of the women you’ve chosen—and the care they return. If you ever give me reason to doubt that, you’ll find the Lion Throne has long claws.” She did not smile, but the threat was more ritual than real.
“I understand,” I said, bowing my head slightly.
Morgase studied me a moment longer, then nodded. “Good. Then the wedding will go forward. If she is to be Queen, her consort must stand at her side openly, not merely in shadows and whispers… and if you are to be King in Cairhien, then I wish for her to be secured to you before any of that must happen.”
Elayne squeezed my hand, her face brightening, but she did not dare to speak over her mother.
“And the others,” Morgase continued. “I do not know if I will ever fully grasp what it means to share one’s heart and home in such a fashion. But if what you’ve built is real, then it will withstand the scrutiny of the world—and the trials it will bring.”
“It already has,” I said, my voice quiet but certain. “And it will continue to, for as long as we have breath.”
There was a pause, and then Morgase rose. She crossed the space between us—not with haste, but with purpose—and placed her hands on Elayne’s shoulders. “You have always been your own woman,” she said softly “It seems you will be a Queen in more than just title.”
Elayne’s eyes shone, but she held her poise. “I learned from the best.”
Morgase leaned in and kissed her brow, then moved to me, placing her hands to my shoulders just the same as she had her own daughters. “Protect her. Not just from blades and politics, but from the weight of the world. She will try to bear it all on her own. Do not let her.”
“I won’t,” I said, meaning it with every part of me. I felt a quiet laugh inside myself as I realized that I truly meant those words, since I had intended to carry that same weight all on my own despite the force others had exerted to try and keep me from doing so. It was only then that I was taken truly by surprise as Morgase pulled me into an embrace, maternal and calming. It was rather foreign to me, but I did not pull away or protest. As she pulled away, Thom rose from his seat and placed a hand on her back and the two prepared to depart.
“I imagine we will speak more, you and I,” Morgase said to me, her voice returning to its usual commanding cadence. But not tonight. Tonight, I will try to remember what it felt like to be in love… and not be afraid of it.”
She exited with Thom beside her, and Elayne let out a breath she had clearly been holding. “That could have gone far worse.”
I smiled faintly. “It certainly could have. As it stands, I believe she had decided to take me as one of her own?”
Elayne gave a soft, breathless laugh, threading her fingers with mine. “Light help you,” she said. “You’ve no idea what that truly means.”
“I might have some idea,” I murmured. “Especially after surviving all of that without being turned to ash.”
“She could have had you thrown in the cells, you know,” Elayne said, voice teasing but eyes still shining with emotion. “Or exiled. Or challenged you to a duel for my hand.”
“Would she have won?” I asked with a raised brow.
Elayne pretended to consider. “Possibly. She cheats.”
That drew a real laugh from me, and Elayne leaned in to press her forehead against mine. For a moment, there was no crowns. No titles. No wars or expectation. Just this moment. Just us.
“She blessed it,” Elayne whispered. “Us. All of us.”
“She did.”
Elayne exhaled again, the last of the tension slipping from her. “Then I don’t care what the rest of the world says. We begin from here.”
I kissed her brow. “We do.”