nestadevries

[nestadevries]

[nestadevries]

Chapter 15 | Kiss Your Pain Away

Notes: Scars are beautiful. Fact. - around 5k words.

The warmth of sunlight brushed across Nesta’s bare shoulder as she stirred, the silk sheets tangled loosely around her hips. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the successful day before, a subtle reminder of strength built and worn. The scent of something sweet, as fruit, honey, and a hint of citrus, reached her before she even opened her eyes.

There was the gentle click of porcelain, followed by the soft rustle of fabric.

“You’re awake.” Liandrin’s voice was rich with love.

Nesta blinked against the light and slowly turned her head to see Liandrin, her hair perfectly in place despite the early hour, the loose waves falling softly around her shoulders. She was carrying a tray with grapes, sliced peaches, a handful of cherries, and two delicate glasses of tea.

“You brought breakfast?” Nesta asked, her voice thick with sleep.

“I brought discipline.” Liandrin said smoothly, walking closer. “But I thought fruit might be more persuasive at this hour.”

She placed the tray down and settled beside her on the bed, their legs brushing. Cherries, figs, peaches sliced into perfect slivers. Two cups of tea were still steaming.

“If this is your way of lulling me into obedience, it’s working.”

“You’re perceptive this morning.” Liandrin murmured, folding her hands in her lap. Then, after a breath, “How are you feeling after yesterday?”

Nesta was quiet for a moment, her mind swirling with fragmented images from the trials. The pressure, the pain, the overwhelming sense of failure, and then the rush of victory. But she didn’t want to focus on that.

“I’m fine.” she said, her voice steady.

Liandrin didn’t seem convinced, her gaze unwavering. “I know you, Lioness. You’re not as fine as you want me to believe.”

Nesta turned her face toward her, meeting Liandrin’s gaze. “I’ll survive. You don’t need to worry.”

“Alright, but remember that I’m proud of you.”

“And what about you? After the mission, I’ve noticed you’ve been moving more slowly. How are you feeling?” Nesta asked with concern in her eyes.

Liandrin’s expression flickered, a flash of something unreadable crossed her face. “It’s healed well. The pain is gone.” she said, her voice steady, though the words felt a little heavier than usual, as if she were trying to convince herself as much as Nesta. It was clear that she wasn’t entirely dismissing the concern, but she was just reluctant to admit how much it had cost her, how it still lingered beneath the surface.

Nesta reached out, gently placing her hand over Liandrin’s where it rested on the bed. “You’re sure?” Her thumb traced a slow, absent-minded circle along Liandrin’s knuckle.

The Aes Sedai looked down at their hands for a brief moment, and when she lifted her gaze again, it was with a faint smile. “I’m sure, Nesta.” she said quietly, as if saying it too loud might unravel her composure.

Then, with a faint exhale that barely disturbed the silence, Liandrin pulled back to reach for the tray. “But there is something we need to talk about.” She leaned forward slightly, plucking a slice of peach from the tray. Juice clung to her fingers as she took a measured bite, her lips brushing the edge before pulling it away. The sweetness lingered in the air, mingling with the faint herbal scent of the tea. “The final test. The Hundred Weaves.”

Nesta’s stomach tightened at the mention of it. The last step before becoming Aes Sedai. She wasn’t afraid of the challenge, but the thought of it still made her pulse quicken. She reached for a bunch of grapes, popping one into her mouth as she listened.

Liandrin’s tone was calm but more serious now. “Each weave must be performed flawlessly. In sequence with no pause, while under the mental and physical attack. They will test your limits and then push past them. If you break, you fail.” She handed her a glass of tea, and Nesta accepted it with a slight nod.

She took a sip, feeling the taste of it on her tongue, as she slowly leaned back against the headboard, eyes sharp now. “You’re going to start preparing me.”

Liandrin nodded once, her hand resting briefly on the tray of fruit between them before she continued. “It will be the most brutal thing you’ve endured. I’m going to be harder on you than I’ve ever been. I have to be.”

“You’re apologizing before it even starts?” Nesta asked.

Liandrin nodded again. A flicker of guilt passed through her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will. And you’ll hate me for it.”

“I’m still here. And I’ll be here after this, too. You can break me if you have to. Just don’t let go after.” Nesta murmured.

Liandrin stared at her, startled for a breath, like she didn’t know what to do with that kind of trust. And then her voice cracked, “I won’t.”

Nesta took a slow bite of honeydew melon, chewing thoughtfully as her eyes searched Liandrin’s face. Then, with a crooked half-smile, she asked, “Do you really think I’m that delicate?”

“No, I think you matter to me.” Liandrin said quietly.

That stopped Nesta cold. She froze mid-bite, the melon soft and sweet on her tongue, but her mind caught in the echo of Liandrin’s words.

The older woman didn’t look away. “I’ve never trained someone like this, not with this between us. It’s not just a test of strength. It’s obedience under pain. Control under chaos. I will have to hurt you.”

Nesta’s gaze softened and she reached for the cherries, taking one and offering it to Liandrin with a smile. Liandrin took it, her fingers brushing against Nesta’s, sending an unexpected warmth through her chest. “Then hurt me. I want this, I want to pass. And I trust you, Lia”

Liandrin hadn’t expected tenderness in the wake of such a brutal promise. Hadn’t expected trust, when she knew the kind of pain she was about to deliver. She exhaled, “You won’t get special treatment.”

“I’d punch you if you tried.” Nesta’s tone was light, as she bit into another cherry, savoring the sweetness.

They sat like that for a long moment, the sunlight soft and golden on their skin, the tray of fruit nestled between them. Liandrin’s gaze flicked downward as she picked up a peach. She turned it slowly in her hand, then leaned forward and sank her teeth into it. Juice welled at the corners of her lips, gliding down her fingers.

Nesta watched her, eyes hooded, breath catching just a little. There was something hypnotic about the way Liandrin’s lips parted around the peach, the delicate sounds of the bite, the juice trailing down her fingers.

“Open your mouth.” Liandrin murmured, as she held out the same peach to Nesta.

The girl’s lips parted, as she leaned forward, her eyes never leaving Liandrin’s. She bit into it. The taste exploded on her tongue, sweet, lush, intimate in a way that had nothing to do with food.

A drop of juice ran down Nesta’s chin. Liandrin reached out, catching it with her thumb, wiping it gently along her bottom lip before slipping that same thumb into her own mouth. Her tongue traced it lazily, her gaze heated now.

“You’ll spoil me.” Nesta said smirking.

Liandrin smirked, fingers brushing the girl’s knee. “That’s the idea.”

Nesta reached for a cherry now, rolling it between her fingers before biting it.

“We start training after midday. Rest while you can.” Liandrin said.

“You’ll have to drag me out of bed later.” Nesta’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

Liandrin’s gaze dropped to Nesta’s lips, her neck, and finally her eyes paused at the red choker, the ruby catching the morning light like a spark of fire against her skin. “Don’t tempt me.”

Nesta’s tongue darted out to catch a bit of cherry juice. “Or what?”

The older woman leaned in until her breath was hot against Nesta’s cheek, their knees brushing. “Or I won’t let you leave this bed at all.”

Nesta’s pulse fluttered at her throat. “Then I’ll fail the test.”

Liandrin’s fingers found her thigh, tracing a slow path upward through the linen. “No.” she whispered, pressing the softest kiss to Nesta’s neck, “You’ll pass and I’ll make sure of it.”

Her mouth trailed higher, pressing another kiss just beneath Nesta’s ear, where her skin flushed warm. Nesta tilted her head, lips parting on a soft gasp as Liandrin’s hand gripped firmer at her thigh.

“Lia…” Nesta breathed, her voice barely there, caught somewhere between a plea and a dare.

Liandrin pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, her gaze dark with want. Her fingers brushed along the edge of the choker around Nesta’s throat, pausing there with possession, as if reminding them both of the promise it carried.

Then she kissed her, slow at first, savoring. A slide of mouths, soft and aching, until Nesta pulled her closer and it deepened into something hungry. Liandrin’s hand slipped higher drawing a low sound from Nesta’s throat, and her own breath hitched as the girl arched into her touch.

The fruit lay forgotten beside them. And when Liandrin pressed Nesta back against the pillows, her lips trailed from Nesta's mouth to the delicate curve of her jaw, then lower, teeth grazing the pulse point beneath the choker.

Nesta’s fingers twisted in Liandrin’s hair, tugging just enough to draw a dark laugh against her skin.

“Impatient.” Liandrin murmured, voice low and husky, but she didn’t stop. Her hand, still tracing the edge of the choker, dipped lower, fingertips skimming the exposed line of Nesta’s collarbone.

Nesta arched into her with a wicked smile. “I thought you liked me impatient.”

“I like you obedient.” Liandrin smirked.

“That doesn’t sound nearly as fun.” Nesta whispered, as her hips shifted, a silent provocation. “But I might behave if you beg nicely.”

Liandrin’s answering smile was slow and sharp. “You’re playing a dangerous game, pet.”

“Only because I know you’ll make it worth it.” Nesta purred.

Liandrin’s hand curled tighter on her thigh, dragging the linen up higher. “You wear my claim so well.” she whispered, voice rough with want as her fingers returned to the choker around Nesta’s throat. Her thumb stroked over the ruby. “But I wonder, do you remember what happens when you test my patience?”

Nesta’s smirk was razor-sharp, her voice thick with challenge. “Why don’t you remind me?”

A heartbeat of charged silence passed. Then, Liandrin moved. She twisted Nesta beneath her in one fluid motion, pressing her down into the pillows, her wrists pinned above her head. Liandrin's golden hair spilled around them both, as her body pressed flush to Nesta’s. “Gladly.”

Liandrin kissed her hard and claiming. There was nothing gentle in the kiss. Nesta gasped into her mouth, surrendering to the dominance. She wrapped her legs around Liandrin’s waist, pulling her closer.

Suddenly, Liandrin pulled away and sat up to trail her fingers along Nesta’s stomach, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “This is in my way.”

“Then take it off.” Nesta challenged her.

Liandrin didn’t hesitate. She leaned back, her fingers deftly peeling the fabric up and over Nesta’s head. As the shirt moved over her skin, Liandrin’s fingertips grazed the bare flesh, nails leaving the lightest trail of heat in their wake. Nesta’s chest rose and fell rapidly, as Liandrin paused for a moment and admired the way the girl looked beneath her, vulnerable yet strong, exposed but still confident. "You’re perfect" she said.

Nesta cupped Liandrin’s face gently, her fingertips grazing the sharp angles of the woman’s cheeks as she pulled her closer. Their bodies tangled together, the slow, steady rhythm between them building until the very air seemed to burn with the intensity of their connection. Liandrin’s name slipped from Nesta’s lips like a plea and it was all Liandrin needed to make her feel just how much she was wanted, needed, and loved.

-

The dark room, nestled deep within the Tower, was windowless and stripped of all softness. Just stone walls and layered wards woven so tight that no sound could escape. If Nesta screamed, the Tower would never know and Liandrin wouldn't stop.

Nesta stood steady on the stone floor, boots planted firm beneath her. She was dressed for war, for this lesson that felt like a siege on her will. Liandrin had insisted on comfort that wouldn’t coddle, movement without excuse. Nothing long or flowing. No robes to hide behind.

Not a single strand had escaped the braid she’d tied before the lesson, tight and controlled, just as Liandrin had ordered.

Across from her, Liandrin stood in robes of crimson, that flowed around her like blood in water. No softness in her posture. No warmth in her eyes.

“Begin.” Liandrin said, the word slicing through the quiet like a blade. “A four-fold barrier. Spirit, Air, Fire, Earth. You will hold it steady while I test your endurance.”

Nesta inhaled and reached for saidar. It flooded her senses, bright and intoxicating. Every time she touched it, it was too much and never enough. She pulled at it too fast, too hungrily, and the weaves came wild, vibrant threads of Spirit flickering in her mind’s eye like lightning.

She began the weave. Four strands. A simple barrier, layered. But the moment the first thread locked into place the air behind her shifted.

A sharp whip of Air lashed across her back, clean and merciless. The sound was sickeningly soft, like silk tearing under tension, but the pain was immediate and brutal. A white-hot sting bloomed across her skin, right through the fabric of her shirt.

Nesta’s body arched with the strike, the sound echoing in her skull even if the room swallowed it whole. Her knees buckled from the suddenness, her concentration shattered and the weave unraveled in a burst of sparks. She didn’t scream, but her breath caught with a sharp sound, like a sob being choked down.

“You reached too greedily, again” Liandrin said calmly.

Nesta clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. The pain still flared across her back, blooming hot beneath her skin. It hadn’t broken flesh, but it didn’t have to. It lingered and burned, like shame.

“Compose yourself.”

Nesta nodded, swallowing her own trembling breath, and reached again. Slower, tighter grip. This time she began the weave with more precision.

Spirit. Air. Fire… And the next blow came without warning, angled low, a coiled lash of Air that snapped across her back and caught the edge of her ribs. Nesta gasped, her spine bowing with the impact. It was worse than the first. Not just the pain, but the humiliation of knowing she had flinched again. But this time, she didn’t drop the weave. She held it, teeth bared, hands trembling.

Liandrin circled her slowly, her voice flat, “You must learn to bleed in silence.”

Nesta’s breath hissed through her teeth, but she didn’t look at her. Her arms ached, her back throbbed, and the weave still shimmered in the air before her.

Every ounce of her pain was locked behind clenched teeth and narrowed eyes. The scream clawing in her throat never made it past her lips.

Liandrin’s tone was still that same brutal calm. “You think the world will show mercy just because your ribs are cracked, or your spirit’s been broken?”

Nesta didn’t respond. Her jaw had locked, her lungs burned, but the weave held.

The Aes Sedai moved again, a slow circle. Studying and judging, as Nesta continued.

By the end of their training, the strikes had become almost rhythmic. But when the final blow came, a narrow ribbon of Air slicing across Nesta’s side, her body didn’t even twitch. No gasp, no stuttered breath. No break in her flow.

Liandrin said nothing. But her eyes narrowed and her arms folded across her chest. She hadn’t expected this. Not from a girl who once let emotion guide her more than thought, who had flinched at every correction, snapped at every command. She had expected Nesta to at least crack by now.

But she didn’t break. She burned. And just as she reached for the final strand, the one that would seal the weave, a flicker of something silver passed through her gaze. It shimmered in her irises for the briefest heartbeat and then it was gone.

Liandrin saw it again. The first time, after the Arches, she had told herself it was exhaustion. Trick of the light. Residual strain. But twice? No, this wasn’t coincidence.

“Finish it.” she said, masking her unease beneath that usual cold control.

And Nesta did. Her fingers moved without hesitation, weaving the final strand of Spirit through the core. It slid into place with a satisfying ripple. Only then did she let go.

The weave dissipated, but the ache in her limbs remained. Nesta lowered her arms slowly, like she was afraid they might not rise again. Her breath shuddered out of her in uneven gasps, her shoulders trembling from exertion, sweat trailing down her spine beneath her shirt.

“Acceptable.” Liandrin said.

Just one word, but from Liandrin, acceptable meant more than praise from anyone else. Nesta didn’t lift her head. Didn’t trust herself to look at Liandrin and not collapse from whatever emotion was threatening to undo her. Her lips were parted just enough for air, her throat too tight to speak. But inside her chest, something bloomed. Pride, relief, and hunger for more.

-

The room was quiet, dimly lit by the low flicker of a single candle on the bedside table. Nesta lay on her stomach, half-curled atop the thin mattress, wearing nothing but her underwear. She discarded her training clothes after she’d cleaned up, though the soreness remained carved deep into her muscles.

Liandrin stood beside the bed, unmoving, watching her in silence. There was no command in her stance now. Her fingers were wrapped around a small tin of salve, pale and herbal, the scent of crushed mint curling into the air.

All she could do was look at Nesta’s bruised, bare body. For all the shadows she walked with, for all the cruelty the world had carved into her, she had never expected someone like this young woman. She hadn’t asked for her, hadn’t planned for this to happen, and yet here she was. In her bed, in her life. And Liandrin was silently grateful in a way that scared her more than any failure or mission ever had.

She let out a slow breath, then finally moved to sit at the edge of the mattress.

“I can do it.” Nesta murmured.

“You can barely lift your arms.” Liandrin said quietly, unscrewing the lid.

A faint smile tugged at Nesta’s lips. “I could still kick your ass or at least try to.”

Liandrin huffed a low laugh. “You’d miss.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It pulsed with trust and peace. Liandrin reached out, brushing Nesta’s hair gently aside, fingers lingering where the braid had started to come undone. Her touch moved lower, over the bruises marring Nesta’s back.

“I’ve never been good with healing weaves.” Liandrin said after a beat, her tone unusually open. “I tried many times, but at the end I always left more bruises than I started with.” She dipped her fingers into the salve and began to work it gently over Nesta’s ribs, voice quieter now. “But, this I can do well.”

The salve was cool at first, then warm, seeping into the ache in muscles, easing the worst of it. Liandrin’s fingers were firm but careful, always skimming just lightly enough to soothe but not sting.

Nesta let out a soft breath. “It’s nice.”

“I know.” Liandrin replied, almost too softly to hear.

Her hands kept moving in slow circles, a kind of unspoken apology in every stroke. Nesta didn’t know when her eyes drifted closed, but the weight of Liandrin’s presence grounded her more than sleep ever could.

“I saw it again.” Liandrin said after a long pause. “The silver spark in your eyes.”

Nesta blinked, turning her head slightly. “What silver?”

“I don’t know.” Liandrin admitted. “But it wasn’t just saidar. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The tin of salve resting lightly in Liandrin’s lap now was forgotten. Her fingers trailed down the line of Nesta’s bare shoulder, “There’s something in you, Lioness. Something ancient and powerful.”

“Is that supposed to comfort me?” Nesta asked dryly.

Liandrin gave a quiet, almost affectionate snort. “It’s not meant to comfort. Just to warn.”

Nesta shifted, rolling from her stomach to her back, wincing slightly at the pull in her shoulders. Her body ached, but it was a good kind of ache. And more than anything, she wanted to feel Liandrin’s warmth, her body weight on her.

“Lie down with me.” Nesta murmured, reaching out with a hand.

Liandrin hesitated, standing beside the bed like she was still trying to decide whether it was safe to be soft now. But Nesta reached again, this time curling her fingers lightly into the hem of Liandrin’s shirt.

“I want you here.” she said quietly.

The shirt lifted slowly. Nesta undressed her in silence, peeling the cloth from Liandrin’s body with gentle care, her fingers brushing over Liandrin’s firm muscles. When the older woman stood in nothing but her underwear, Nesta didn’t rush her, as she slowly climbed onto the bed.

Liandrin lay down on top of Nesta, fitting against her as if they’d done this a hundred times before. Her head tucked beneath Nesta’s jaw, one arm slipping around her waist, the other resting along the curve of her ribs.

Nesta’s hands moved instinctively, roaming over the bare expanse of Liandrin’s back. She felt every old scar, every fresh one. And then she stilled. Near her ribs, a patch of puckered, angry skin. The new ones that had been torn open by the Trollocs.

Liandrin’s body tensed as Nesta’s fingers grazed the sensitive skin. She could still feel it, the searing pain of that day, the jagged rush of terror that had sliced through her like the claws of the beasts that had attacked. The memory was sharp, unforgiving, more vivid than anything she’d ever done to herself.

Slowly, Nesta shifted, tilting them both until she had enough space to move. She gently nudged Liandrin onto her side and leaned in. Her lips brushed over the scar on Liandrin’s ribs. Then again and again. She kissed it with all the softness she could muster, as if trying to erase the pain, to take the weight of the memory into herself.

“I hate that they did this to you.” she whispered, her voice tight. “I want to kill every last one of them. Every person, every creature that ever laid a hand on you.”

“Even if you killed them all, it wouldn't change what they did to me. The scars are still there, inside of me.” Liandrin murmured. Her lips pressed together in a tight line, but her hand gently brushed the side of Nesta’s face, a gesture of gratitude. "But knowing you're here, it helps more than you could imagine."

“You’re so beautiful.” Nesta said, kissing higher now, along a healed gash near her shoulder. “Every part of you. Nothing they did could change that.”

Liandrin’s chest tightened, heart pounding with a mixture of disbelief. She wasn’t beautiful. She hadn’t been beautiful for a long time. The scars, both the ones that marred her skin and the ones that ran deeper, were a testament to that. She saw herself as broken, twisted by years of battle and betrayal, a creature forged in darkness with pieces of herself chipped away.

Yet Nesta, with that same, unwavering certainty, kissed her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Like she was whole.

Her fingers curled into Nesta’s skin as she tried to steady herself, but the thought of her devotion, the way the girl’s lips worshipped her battered form, made her feel small and exposed in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

“I don’t understand you.” Liandrin whispered, her voice thick with emotion, raw from the vulnerability she so rarely allowed herself. “I don’t know how you can love me after everything.”

Her eyes closed for a moment, and she allowed herself to feel the heat of Nesta's touch, the soothing warmth that seemed to melt the walls she'd so carefully built around her heart.

Nesta wasn’t sure how to answer, the feeling of Liandrin’s self-loathing pressing against her. But then, with a steady breath, she shifted closer, her fingers brushing against the scars, tracing each one like a map, a path that led to the woman she adored.

“I love you, Lia.” Nesta whispered, “Every part of you, every scar on your body.”

She kissed a scar on Liandrin’s rib, then another, “I don’t see damage.” she continued, her words almost reverent, a quiet confession. “I see strength. I see survival. You’ve been through hell and you’re still here. You’re still standing, still fighting.”

Nesta’s gaze lifted to meet Liandrin’s eyes, her own burning with fierce emotion. “Each scar you wear, each mark on your body, tells the story of a woman who has never given up. It tells me you’re strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. And that’s what I love about you.”

Her breath caught as her hand moved lower, brushing against the new gashes, the fresh pain Liandrin still carried. But her lips found their way back to Liandrin’s shoulder, and she kissed the healed lines there, lingering with a gentle touch. “You are beautiful to me. Every piece of you that you think is broken, it’s all perfect in my eyes.”

Liandrin had never been one to let anyone close enough to see her weakness, to see her scars as anything other than shameful reminders of her past. Yet here was Nesta, who instead of seeing them as flaws, embraced them. Accepted them and loved her because of them.

Nesta wrapped her arms around her, pressing their bodies close, skin to skin. Her hands never stopped moving, tracing the shape of the woman’s body. And for once, Liandrin didn’t try to dominate the silence or brush it off with sarcasm.

"Lia..." Nesta whispered, her voice barely audible. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach it. "Can I use the strap-on?" she asked softly, her fingers tracing the curve of Liandrin’s shoulder. "If you’re comfortable with it."

Her heart raced at the vulnerability of the question. She wanted to give Liandrin pleasure, wanted to feel as though she could offer something back, but there was a part of her that feared pushing too hard, fearing that Liandrin might not want it.

Liandrin’s eyes softened, the usual calculating sharpness melting away into tenderness. She could feel the uncertainty in Nesta, the fragility of the request, and it struck something deep within her.

"Yes." she answered. She gently cupped Nesta's face, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “I trust you, Lioness.”

Nesta’s fingers brushed softly along Liandrin’s skin, tracing the lines of her body before she pulled away gently. She knew what they were about to do required preparation, not just the emotional kind, but the physical one too. She wanted it to be perfect for Liandrin, to ensure that this moment would be comfortable and filled with nothing but pleasure.

Blue eyes followed her as she moved to the cupboard near the bed. She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she pulled the strap-on out, her body alight with nervous anticipation.

Liandrin was watching her intently, her eyes bright with desire.

Nesta came closer to her lover and she ran her fingers gently down the woman’s chest, tracing the smoothness of her skin. 

She was drinking in the way the dim light gilded the curves of Liandrin’s body, the dip of her waist, the soft swell of her hips, the proud arch of her collarbones, but it was Liandrin’s breasts that stole Nesta’s breath. Full and heavy, they rose with each unsteady breath, the peaks already taut, begging for attention. Nesta dragged her fingertips down Liandrin’s breasts, circling teasingly.

Liandrin’s breath hitched, her back arching slightly, silently demanding more.

Nesta obliged. She palmed Liandrin’s breast, relishing the weight of it in her hand, the way the soft flesh yielded to her touch only to press back insistently. Her thumb swept over the hardened nipple, and Liandrin gasped.

“You’re gorgeous.” Nesta murmured, her voice rough with desire.

Liandrin smirked, though her lips parted on a soft exhale as Nesta leaned in, pressing a kiss on her breast. “Flattery will get you everywhere, pet.”

Nesta chuckled against her skin, her hands sliding around to grip Liandrin’s hips, guiding her back onto the bed. “Good, because I intend to take my time.”

She reached for the strap, the leather and harness cool against her fingers, and Liandrin’s gaze darkened as she watched Nesta fasten it around her own hips, adjusting the straps with deliberate care.

Liandrin shifted, spreading her legs wider in silent invitation, her thighs already glistening with arousal. Nesta’s mouth watered at the sight, but she forced herself to focus, reaching for the bottle of lube beside them.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Nesta said, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before slicking the length of the strap.

Liandrin arched a brow, though her breath hitched as she watched Nesta’s hands work. “You won’t.”

With that, she leaned over Liandrin, capturing her mouth in a searing kiss as she guided the tip between her thighs, pressing in with torturous slowness. Liandrin’s nails dug into Nesta’s shoulders, her back arching off the bed as she took her, inch by inch, her body stretching, yielding, burning.

“Fuck.” Liandrin gasped, her head falling back against the pillows.

Nesta didn’t stop. She rolled her hips, burying herself deeper, reveling in the way Liandrin’s body clenched around her, hot and tight. 

Liandrin moaned and then Nesta began to move. At first, it was slow and gentle. A tender rhythm that made Liandrin’s breath hitch in surprise. Nesta kissed her like she was savoring her, lips soft, worshipful, as she rocked into her with aching sweetness.

“Nesta.” Liandrin gasped, her fingers flexing against the girl's shoulders. The tenderness felt unfamiliar and dizzying. But Liandrin had never been good at surrender. “Harder.” she demanded, nails biting into Nesta’s skin.

The younger woman stilled, her gaze darkening. “Are you sure?”

Liandrin arched beneath her, teeth bared. “I said harder."

Nesta’s grip turned iron, her hips snapping forward with sudden, brutal force. Liandrin cried out, her back bowing off the bed as pleasure lanced through her, sharp and bright. "Like this?”  She growled, driving into her again, deeper, meaner, her voice rough with barely leashed hunger.

Liandrin could only gasp, her thighs clamping around Nesta’s waist like a vice, her body caught between shock and feverish want. Every nerve burned, every thought scattered, this was her Nesta, wild and strong, fucking her with a fury that felt like pure pleasure. Each thrust sent sparks of desire up Liandrin’s spine.

“Look at me.” Nesta growled, her voice rough with exertion.

Liandrin obeyed, her breath hitching as she met those blue eyes. The sight alone was enough to make her clench around Nesta, a broken moan tearing from her throat. Her hips jerked, chasing the friction, the fullness, the painful pleasure of Nesta buried deep inside her. “Fuck, Nesta...”

Nesta’s hand slid up, fingers tangling in Liandrin’s hair, yanking her head back to expose the pale column of her throat. Her teeth grazed the fluttering pulse there, not biting, just teasing. She pushed into her harder, deeper, until the bed frame creaked.

“Yes...” Liandrin choked out, her fingers tangling in Nesta’s hair too, dragging her down into a searing kiss.

Nesta's thrusts turned relentless, each one punching a moan from Liandrin’s mouth. The bed creaked beneath them, the air thick with the sound of skin slapping skin, of ragged breaths and broken pleas.

“You take me so well.” Nesta murmured against her lips.

Liandrin’s breath hitched, and she could feel the pull of her climax.

Nesta felt it and her thrusts grew sharper, the strap-on hitting the right spot inside Liandrin that made her vision blur. 

“Come for me, my love.” Nesta commanded.

Liandrin’s back arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from her lips as pleasure detonated through her. She was burning, unraveling, her fingers twisting in Nesta’s hair as she rode out the storm.

Nesta fucked her through it, her own breath coming in ragged gasps, her movements growing erratic as Liandrin’s walls fluttered around her. 

Liandrin surrendered completely, her climax wringing every last shuddering moan from her lips, her body boneless and spent beneath Nesta’s as the aftershocks trembled through her.

Only then did Nesta's hips stuttered as she buried herself deep one final time. She collapsed against Liandrin, their sweat-slick bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in sync. For a long moment, there was only the sound of their mingled breaths, the lingering heat of their skin.

Liandrin shifted, her fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns on Nesta's back. She felt the warmth of the girl’s body and let her mind wander.

"I’ve never let anyone use it on me.” she said softly, her voice almost teasing but with an edge of honesty. “You’re the first." 

Nesta pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, a curious, quiet question in her eyes.

"I never trusted anyone enough. Not until now." Liandrin paused, her lips curling into a small, playful smirk, though there was a hidden vulnerability behind her words. "You’ve turned everything upside down."

Nesta smiled softly, her chest tight with the warmth of her words. “I'm glad you feel safe with me.” 

Liandrin let out a soft chuckle, a sound that was both playful and full of affection. "You make me feel loved." she confessed quietly. "I never thought I'd find someone who could make me feel this way." She let out a breath, the weight of the admission sinking in. "Not just with my body, but with everything."

Nesta’s heart swelled at the sincerity in Liandrin’s voice, at the amount of how much trust and vulnerability had just been shared. With a soft smile, she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Liandrin’s lips. “I’ll never let you down.” she whispered.

[nestadevries]

Chapter 14 | The Other Side

Notes: Happy start of the week! It's time to survive the Arches ;) - around 7k words

The Tower was cloaked in silence as Liandrin led Nesta through its ancient halls. Not a word passed between them. Only the soft, steady fall of their footsteps echoed against stone. Nesta could feel the weight of the test, that was coming.

They reached the chamber where the Arches waited, glowing faintly, solemn and eternal. But before they stepped inside, Liandrin stepped closer to Nesta, her presence commanding, yet unmistakably intimate. Her fingers brushed against her shoulder with a tenderness that contrasted the strength of her usual demeanor. Liandrin's eyes searched Nesta’s face with a quiet intensity, “I need you to remember something.”

Nesta swallowed, feeling the pressure of Liandrin’s gaze on her. She nodded once, trying to project the confidence she didn’t quite feel inside. 

Liandrin’s blue eyes softened, “I’ll be here when it’s done.” she continued, her voice barely audible. “So come back to me.”

There was a vulnerability in those words that made Nesta's breath catch. It was a crack in Liandrin’s usual armor, a moment where she wasn’t the fierce Aes Sedai, but something more. Someone who cared, deeply, despite her mask.

Without thinking, Nesta’s fingers brushed the back of her neck, instinctively touching the braid as if the act itself could anchor her in the moment. Earlier that morning, Liandrin had braided her hair. Pale long fingers had moved with practiced precision, pulling Nesta’s hair tightly, strands woven together in an intricate design. It wasn’t just a braid, it was a reminder. A mark, as a symbol of Liandrin’s presence. The braid was tight, perhaps too tight, but it grounded Nesta in a way that made her feel protected.

Liandrin stepped back, her ruthless mask returning to its familiar. She was a sister of the Tower again, the cold exterior of an Aes Sedai who had no room for softness, no room for fear.

But the tremble beneath Liandrin’s words lingered in the air, and Nesta felt it. It was the kind of vulnerability that could shatter the walls between them, yet it made Nesta feel more than just the weight of this test. It made her feel seen and loved.

She stepped forward into the cold chamber, the air thick with the scent of old stone and incense. The faint hum of the Arches filling the space with a strange energy. Liandrin’s gaze lingered on Nesta as they reached the center of the room. Alanna and Leane stood silent, their eyes fixed on the ritual.

Liandrin moved to a low table, where a ceremonial shift lay, its fabric soft and white. The intricate weave of it was simple yet elegant, the hem embroidered with runes that marked the path of the test. The delicate, flowing material was meant to let the Arches see what lay hidden deep within.

Nesta’s pulse quickened, her stomach a tight knot. This wasn’t about fighting or proving strength. This was about confronting everything she had been, everything she feared.

“You need to disrobe.” Liandrin instructed, her voice quiet, but with an edge of finality. “The shift will be the only thing between you and the Arches. Nothing else can come with you.”

Nesta didn’t hesitate, though a small part of her wanted to turn and leave. But she knew she couldn’t. She wasn’t sure if it was the weight of Liandrin’s presence or the starkness of the moment, but she removed her tunic and pants. As the fabric fell away, the cool air of the room made her skin prickle.

Her body was strong, toned from training and combat, but still, she felt vulnerable in that moment. The scars from her past, the bruises from training, and the lingering reminders of her mistakes marked her skin.

Liandrin’s gaze softened just a fraction, though she said nothing, only stepped forward to hand her the ceremonial shift. The white fabric felt strange against Nesta’s skin as she slipped it over her shoulders, the weight of the garment light but heavy with meaning.

“Good.” Liandrin murmured, her fingers brushing against the edge of the shift as if to adjust it.

The Red Sister took a small step back, her eyes scanning Nesta, looking for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. “You are ready, Lioness.” she said, her voice low and reverent.

Nesta nodded, standing tall despite the storm inside her. The weight of the Arches loomed in front of her, their swirling energy calling her to face the past.

As one, the three sisters spoke the final words: “Enter the Arches. Face your trials. Leave the past behind. Only you now.”

Liandrin’s gaze was the last she felt before she stepped toward the Arch, the weight of her step final and irrevocable. She had prepared, as best as she could. Now, there was no turning back.

With a final breath, Nesta stepped through the Arch, feeling the world around her spin and twist as it began to tear at the edges of her soul.

-

The world shifted around her, and when it settled, she was no longer in the Tower. Nesta stood in a narrow alley in Caemlyn, the stones beneath her feet slick with rain. The scent of damp refuse and smoke curled through the air.

Then she saw a girl, no older than twenty, who stood a few paces ahead, her body tense, her eyes scanning the street as if sensing something wrong. Her clothes were familiar. Her posture. The way she held her arms close, trying to seem smaller, invisible. It wasn’t until the girl turned slightly that Nesta’s realized it all.

It was her. But not as she was now. This was her past self, the night everything had changed.

Nesta took a step forward, confusion and dread warring inside her. She should move, say something. Why was she here? Why was she watching?

Then came the sound she would never forget.

Heavy footsteps. The slurred voice of a man calling out something crude, words that made her skin crawl. The drunk man stumbled out of the shadows behind the girl, behind her younger self. Just as he had that night.

Nesta’s instincts screamed. She surged forward, reaching out. “Run!” she shouted.

But the girl didn’t move. She flinched, turning to look at the man, but she never ran.

“Move!” Nesta screamed again, horror flooding her. Her feet hit the ground harder now, faster, but the air felt thick, as if the world itself resisted her. The scene played out in brutal slowness. The man grabbed the girl by the arm. She fought, struggled and screamed.

And Nesta, powerful, trained, and furious couldn’t reach her. She called on the One Power, willing it to come to her hands. Nothing happened. The Source was gone.

Tears blurred her vision as she kept running, trying to close the distance, trying to stop what was already etched into her past. The girl was dragged behind a stack of crates. The scream that followed was one Nesta had buried so deeply inside herself she hadn’t remembered the sound until now.

“No!” she screamed, her voice shattering with fury and helplessness as her knees gave out beneath her. She hit the ground hard, hands scraping against the stone, body trembling from the effort to breathe, to not fall apart. But she already was. Bit by bit.

Her younger self was still screaming. Pleading. And Nesta couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t change it.

The Arch flared to life behind her, its white light like a silent, damning spotlight in the darkness.

The way back will come but once.

Nesta sobbed, the words digging into her like claws. The Power was still gone. She couldn’t channel. Couldn’t fight. Couldn’t even scream loud enough to drown out what was happening just steps away.

The way back will come but once.

She turned toward the light, her whole body shaking violently. Rage and grief clashed inside her like thunderclouds. She could feel it breaking her open from the inside.

“I could’ve saved her.” she whispered through gritted teeth, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I should’ve saved her.”

But the Arch pulsed again, calling her home. She didn’t want to leave. Not when she knew what would happen the moment her back turned. It felt like choosing to let that girl die all over again.

She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms, drawing blood. The pain was grounding and real. And still it wasn’t enough. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t wipe them away. She let them fall, hot and aching, as if they could carry some of the pain with them. But it stayed lodged in her throat, thick and choking.

With one last, shattered glance toward the shadows, Nesta rose to her feet. Her spine straightened, though her soul felt cracked. The girl’s scream echoed in her ears as she turned away from her. From herself.

She stepped into the light of the Arch. But, the weight of it clung to her. Not just guilt. Loss of innocence, of strength, of the illusion that she’d somehow moved on.

And the scream behind her finally faded into silence.

-

The light of the Arch seared behind her eyelids and then it was gone.

Cold air hit her like a slap, and Nesta stumbled forward, falling to her knees as the stone floor beneath her came into sharp, merciless focus. Her shift clung to her skin, her breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, she didn’t hear the quiet chanting, didn’t see the glowing Arch dim behind her. All she could hear was the phantom echo of that scream, burned into her bones.

Alanna stepped forward with a silver basin in hand, her face unreadable as she tilted it above Nesta. A rush of icy water spilled down her head, trailing along her spine in rivulets, shocking her back into the present. She gasped, trembling from the sudden cold, from everything.

Leane’s voice rang out beside her, calm and solemn. “You are washed clean of what sin you may have done.”

“You are washed clean of what sin was done against you.” Alanna added softly, though her tone was firm.

Their voices were steady, practiced, ritualistic, but to Nesta, they sounded distant, as if spoken through water. “You are washed clean of both.” the three Sisters said in unison.

Liandrin hadn't moved. She stood frozen across the chamber, her blue eyes locked on Nesta with an intensity that carved straight through the calm mask she usually wore. In that moment, she didn’t look like the composed and commanding Aes Sedai. Her lips parted slightly, her brows pulled together. It was as if she were seeing Nesta anew, not just battered and breathless, but smaller somehow. Fragile in a way she had never appeared before.

Nesta raised her eyes and met Liandrin’s gaze. The worry she saw there hit her harder than the cold water. It shook her more than the echo of that scream.

And so, wordlessly, Nesta pushed herself to her feet. Her legs were trembling, but she refused to fall again. Without a sound, without a single glance back, she stepped toward the second Arch. The light shimmered before her, waiting.

Liandrin didn’t move a bit. But the look in her eyes followed Nesta as she crossed the threshold.

The younger woman didn’t hesitate. Her spine straightened, her chin lifted.

And then she was gone again.

-

The light swallowed her whole.

When Nesta blinked, the air shimmered. She was no longer in the cold chamber of the White Tower. Warmth flooded her skin, almost seductively so, as if the very air welcomed her presence. The world around her had changed.

Marble floors stretched beneath her feet, smooth and polished to a mirror-like sheen. Golden light filtered in through tall windows and the scent of jasmine hung in the air. Luxury and temptation interwoven.

She stood in a grand hall, surrounded by opulence, the hum of whispered power pulsing in her veins. Her simple shift had vanished. In its place clung an exquisite dress of deep crimson silk, embroidered in gold thread that shimmered with every breath she took. Her hair was unbound, loose and shining, cascading in soft waves down her back.

She felt powerful. But not just powerful, admired, feared, and respected. There were people kneeling before her. Sisters of the Tower, Aes Sedai of every Ajah. None of them spoke, but all eyes were on her, as if she alone held the weave of the Pattern in her hands.

She should have questioned it. But part of her was drawn to the feeling. The strength, the command, the validation she had always craved.

“Do you see what you could be?” The voice came from behind her.

Nesta turned and Lanfear stood at the top of the marble steps, draped in a dress of black silk that clung like shadows. Her silver belt glittered like stars, and her bright eyes shimmered with quiet delight as she descended the steps.

“You wear power well.” Lanfear murmured, circling her. “It suits you better than submission. Better than servitude to a Tower that fears what you are.”

“I don’t serve anyone.” Nesta snapped automatically, her voice tighter than she meant it to be.

The Forsaken only smiled. “You will. The only question is whom.”

She reached out, brushing a single strand of hair behind Nesta’s ear. “I could give you everything they never will.” Lanfear whispered, her lips brushing Nesta’s cheek, the words a dark promise. “No more doubt, no more fear. You wouldn’t need to prove your worth ever again.”

Nesta’s heart pounded. There was something intoxicating in the offer. In the way her name sounded in Lanfear’s mouth like a prophecy.

“I...” Nesta started, but her voice cracked.

And then she saw a shadow of herself across the hall. Another Nesta. Dressed in black and gold, a crown of flame upon her head. Her expression cold and eyes devoid of softness or care.

She stood tall, a Queen of Power. But there was no humanity in her. No love. No Liandrin.

Nesta stared at the figure, the vision of what she could become. And her stomach twisted. That thing wasn’t her.

The way back will come but once.

The words whispered across the marble like wind, and Nesta turned toward the Arch.

It shimmered behind Lanfear’s shoulder, just barely visible now. The glow was starting to dim.

“Don’t go back to them.” Lanfear said softly, almost sadly, as if she knew she was losing her. “They’ll never see you as I do.”

Nesta’s fists trembled at her sides. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run. But instead, she whispered, “You’re right. They may not. But I won’t lose myself for your love.”

Lanfear’s eyes darkened, and without warning, she leaned forward, her lips crashing into Nesta’s in a kiss so deep, so consuming, that it stole all breath from Nesta’s lungs. The world seemed to vanish in that moment, leaving only Lanfear and their kiss. It was like fire and ice all at once. Lanfear’s lips were hot, demanding, pressing against her with a hunger Nesta didn’t know she had. A sharp heat unfurled in the pit of her stomach, curling her into the touch.

Her body betrayed her, instinctively leaning into the kiss, her hands reaching for Lanfear’s back, pulling her closer, as if the pull of her power was a magnet. Lanfear’s hands slid to the back of her neck, fingers curling into her hair, deepening the kiss until Nesta was gasping, her head spinning with the taste of her.

Lanfear’s tongue parted Nesta’s lips, and the kiss became a dance of domination, of the wild want, as though the world outside didn’t matter anymore. It was only them. Only the fire that burned between them, licking at their skin, their souls entwined in the heady mix of power and passion.

Nesta's heart raced. Her thoughts scattered. Every part of her felt alive in a way she never had before. She was drowning in the kiss, lost in the taste of it, in the promise it held.

The way back will come but once.

And just as suddenly as it had come, the kiss ended, but the heat lingered, curling around Nesta’s body like a flame that wouldn’t be snuffed out.

The Forsaken pulled back, her lips swollen, her eyes dark with desire. “You see?” She breathed, her voice a soft murmur. “I could make you everything you’ve ever dreamed of. I could make you whole.”

Nesta’s body hummed with the echo of the kiss, her breath ragged. But she stood her ground and turned away from Lanfear.

The Dark One’s lieutenant said nothing, only watched. The amusement gone from her face.

Nesta took one step, then another. And with her heart racing, she stepped back into the light.

-

When Nesta emerged, her chest was tight, her throat burning. The taste of Lanfear’s kiss still lingered on her lips like a dangerous secret. The desire, the temptation, the pull of power, she could still feel it curling beneath her skin. But she couldn't focus on it now. She couldn’t focus on anything except the coldness that settled in her gut, the guilt that wrapped itself tightly around her heart.

The Tower came back into focus, the shadows of the Hall of the Arches pressing in. She realized she was standing in front of the Sisters, Liandrin included. But there was no comfort in the sight of her.

Liandrin was standing tall, poised, but Nesta couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. Not after what had happened in the Arch. Not after the kiss.

The Red Sister’s eyes locked onto her as she stepped forward, carrying a silver basin filled with cold water. As Alanna and Leane moved aside, Nesta stood rigidly in the center of the room, her entire body taut with guilt. 

She heard the soft step of Liandrin’s feet on the marble floor, and her heart squeezed in response. The thought of meeting her gaze was too much. She had given in to temptation in the Arch, and now, she felt dirty.

Liandrin’s hand reached out, steady and practiced. She tilted the basin carefully, letting the icy water spill in a thin stream down on Nesta’s body.

The cold seared through her, bringing her back to herself, but it also made the ache inside her chest grow. The weight of the moment pressed down, crushing her with the knowledge of what she’d just almost given up. What she had almost lost.

The water ran down her skin, tracing a path of numbness along her spine, the chill stark and biting. It was as though the water was trying to cleanse not just her body, but her very soul of the choices she’d just been forced to face. But as the cold water dripped down, all Nesta could feel was the absence of Liandrin’s touch. She longed to look at her, to reach out, but guilt gnawed at her.

“You are washed clean of what sin you may have done.” Liandrin’s voice echoed, as calm and distant as ever.

“You are washed clean of what sin was done against you.” Alanna added.

“You are washed clean of both.” they said together.

It was like they were talking over her, the words floating on the air, their sounds hollow, as if nothing could wash away the heaviness she felt inside.

Liandrin’s sharp eyes never left the girl as she straightened. She hadn’t missed the way Nesta had avoided her gaze. Not just avoided, but as if looking at her caused pain, or shame. And that cut deeper than Liandrin expected, but she kept her posture composed, regal as ever.

A part of her itched to grab Nesta, to demand to know what she had seen, who had touched her. Another part, the part she kept tightly guarded, wanted to reach out and pull Nesta into her arms and shield her from whatever ghost still lingered behind those stormy eyes. But she couldn’t, not here.

Without a word, Nesta turned away, her heart pounding in her chest like a wild thing trying to break free.

And Liandrin stood frozen, helpless to do anything but watch as the woman she loved stepped toward the third and final Arch.

Nesta took a single step forward. And then another. Her body moved on its own, no longer under her control, as if the Arch was calling her again. As if it could make everything right.

She finally stepped into the Arch, and the moment her foot crossed the threshold, the world twisted again.

-

The air inside the Arch was colder this time.

Nesta didn’t stumble as she stepped through, but the cold wind cut deeper than skin. It seeped into her bones, slowing her breath, tightening her chest. The skies above were a lifeless gray, as if even the sun had given up on this place. She was standing in a desolate landscape, unfamiliar and eerily quiet. The ground was scorched, blackened by fire and shadow. A distant cry of metal against metal echoed.

As she turned around, she immediately spotted Liandrin.

Her red cloak was torn, her golden hair matted with blood, and her blue eyes, those sharp, commanding eyes were dull. She was kneeling, surrounded by figures cloaked in black, her arms bound behind her back with threads of shadow. She was shaking and bleeding.

“Lia.” Nesta whispered, but the name barely escaped her lips. It hurt to speak.

She ran forward, feet pounding against cracked, scorched earth, the wind screaming around her like a thousand tortured souls. It howled in her ears, snatching the sound from her throat, clawing at her skin, as if it too wanted to keep her from reaching her love.

“Let her go!” Nesta screamed, voice shredded with desperation. But the sound was swallowed by the wind, lost in the void.

The figures surrounding Liandrin slowly turned toward her, cloaked in black, faces hidden beneath hoods like pits of endless night. There were no eyes. No mouths. Just emptiness. They stood like sentinels of death, unmoving and merciless.

Liandrin lifted her head slowly, as if it took every ounce of strength left in her. When her gaze found Nesta, a faint smile touched her lips. But there was no relief in her eyes. Only acceptance. “I love you...” Liandrin murmured. Her voice trembled, barely audible over the rising wind. “Please don’t let me die in vain.”

“No!” Nesta’s voice broke. She pushed forward, fighting against the invisible force that held her. But she couldn’t reach her.

And then the tallest figure stepped forward. A phantom shift, nearly invisible, and suddenly a blade shimmered into view. It moved with horrifying precision, a final stroke in a nightmare she could not wake from. The blade plunged straight into Liandrin’s chest.

There was no mercy in it. No hesitation. Just the brutal, sickening sound of steel tearing through flesh and bone.

Liandrin's body arched with the impact, eyes going wide in disbelief before the pain settled in. Blood poured from the wound in thick rivers, staining her red dress an even deeper crimson. Her lips parted trying to speak, to reach Nesta with a final word, but no sound came.

Only a strangled, broken breath. A tremble of her fingers, then stillness. Liandrin sank forward, the blade still lodged in her chest like a cruel trophy. Her gaze never left Nesta’s, even as the life drained from her eyes.

Time shattered. Nesta screamed.

Not just in sorrow, but in soul-deep anguish. Her body convulsed with it, the sound ripping free like it had been caged inside her for years. It echoed through the barren world, louder than thunder, more piercing than steel.

The way back will come but once.

Nesta’s eyes blazed silver. Light flared across her skin, a searing glow that poured from her very core. Her entire body became a flare of silver flame. The earth around her trembled with it. She kept screaming until her throat burned raw, until the sound disintegrated into broken gasps, until she had no voice left to give. And still, it wasn’t enough. Nothing could be enough.

The way back will come but once.

She looked at Liandrin’s body, looked at the blood that stained the earth beneath her. Every part of her screamed to stay. To run to her. To bring her back.

But it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.

The words became a chant in her mind, a shield against the pain.

Tears blurred her vision as she turned, each movement feeling like she was dragging the weight of a thousand lifetimes. Her limbs moved stiffly, as if the very air resisted her, thick with rage and unbearable loss.

She had to survive this. Not for herself, but for the promise she made.

With one final, gut-wrenching glance at Liandrin’s lifeless body, lying crumpled and still amidst the bloodstained earth, Nesta swallowed a sob that tore like glass in her throat. Her hand brushed the braid Liandrin had tied that morning, still tight, still there.

And then, with everything inside her breaking, she stepped into the Arch.

-

Nesta stepped out of the Arch, her body still vibrating with the energy that had coursed through her. As she emerged, her tear-streaked face was a mask of shattered composure, her chest heaving as she gasped for air, like she was drowning in a sea of anguish.

Her eyes still glowed faintly with silver flare, that flickered and vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only the hollow, haunted darkness behind.

Liandrin noticed the faint glimmer of silver fade from Nesta’s irises, the pain etched in her expression so deep that it cut through Liandrin like a blade of its own.

Nesta’s hands trembled terribly, a violent shake that betrayed the storm of emotion she was desperately trying to contain. The terror, the grief, the power threatened to consume her. But she held it in.

Liandrin’s mouth tightened as she took a step toward Nesta, but before she could say a word, Leane moved forward, holding the silver basin with the same cold professionalism. The ritual wasn’t over yet.

The Keeper of the Chronicles tilted the basin, pouring the cold water over Nesta’s head with precise, practiced motion. The chill of it burned across Nesta’s skin, calming her, but also serving as a brutal reminder of the world she now had to face.

"You are washed clean of what sin you may have done." Leane said.

"You are washed clean of what sin was done against you." Liandrin added softly.

The three sisters spoke in unison, their voices a unified, impassive rhythm. "You are washed clean of both."

But as the final words echoed in the air, Nesta could barely register them. The devastation was too much to hold, but she held it anyway, gripping it with every ounce of strength left in her.

Leane stepped forward with a calm expression. She extended her hand, and in her palm sat a silver serpent ring, a symbol of the Tower, of change, and of the power that bound them all. "You are Accepted."

Nesta stared at the ring for a long moment, unsure if her hand would even cooperate. But slowly, she lifted her fingers and took it.

As the two Sisters turned to leave,  Alanna offered a quiet, formal congratulations to Nesta, but the words felt like they were coming from miles away. She couldn’t even process them, when everything inside her was crumbling. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart and the echo of her scream.

It was only Liandrin who lingered.

The moment the others turned their backs, Liandrin moved to Nesta’s side, her presence a solid force that steadied the fragile space between them. She reached out, her voice a soft whisper, barely above the breath that left her lips.

“Hold on.” Liandrin murmured, her words threading through Nesta’s storm of thoughts like a lifeline.

Liandrin's touch, though gentle, held an unspoken command. It was clear she wouldn’t let Nesta fall. She would carry her through this, even if it meant taking on the weight of the world herself.

Without another word, Liandrin guided Nesta with a hand on her back. She leaned close, her breath warm against Nesta’s ear as she spoke again. “I’ll take care of you.”

Nesta barely nodded, too shaken to respond. Her limbs felt like lead, and the overwhelming torrent of emotion still threatened to drown her. Every step was a battle, but Liandrin was there.

-

Slowly, the she led her away from the ritual room. Her steps firm, guiding Nesta toward the quarters that awaited.

The door shut behind them with a soft thud, the echo of it sealing them in a safe space. Nesta stood just beyond the threshold, unmoving, her shoulders taut with tension. She hadn’t made a sound the entire walk back, not even when her legs nearly buckled once in the corridor. Her shift clung to her body, still damp and cold from the ritual waters, and every inch of her trembled, not from the chill, but from the storm inside her.

Liandrin watched her in silence for a heartbeat, then another, and her own chest ached with a pain she hadn’t expected to feel so deeply. Nesta looked like her soul hadn’t made it all the way back.

“You came back.” Liandrin said softly, her voice steady despite the raw edge of emotion behind it.

Nesta’s fingers curled tightly into her palms, the knuckles whitening with the effort it took not to crumble. Every breath was a battle, every second a fragile thread holding her together.

“You succeeded.” Liandrin added, taking a cautious step closer. She knew how badly Nesta had needed to hear those words. “You’re here.”

That was when Nesta shattered. It didn’t come with a cry or a scream, not at first. Just a soundless shudder as her whole body seemed to collapse inward. Her knees gave way, and Liandrin was there in an instant, catching her before she hit the floor.

“I’ve got you.” Liandrin murmured, lowering them both slowly to the rug. She pulled Nesta close, her arms wrapping around her like a shield, as Nesta pressed her face into Liandrin’s shoulder and finally let go.

The sobs that followed were wracking. Nesta clung to Liandrin like she might vanish again, like everything she’d just seen might become truth if she loosened her grip even for a second.

Liandrin didn’t speak. She just held her. One hand slid up to the braid she’d tied that morning, her thumb brushing the strands in slow, soothing motions. The tightness of it had been meant to center her, to hold her steady.

She rested her cheek against Nesta’s hair and shut her eyes. She remembered how cold Nesta had been after the last Arch, how her hands had trembled, the way she hadn’t been able to meet her gaze, like her pain had been too vast, her shame too heavy. And now that pain was pouring out of her in heaving sobs against Liandrin’s shoulder, soaking her with grief, with fear, with the burden of all she had endured.

Liandrin tightened her hold, fierce and unyielding. “You didn’t fail.” she whispered fiercely. “You came back to me, Lioness.”

“I’m sorry.” Nesta whispered. The words spilled out before she could stop them, barely more than a breath against Liandrin’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Liandrin pulled back just enough to look at her, to see the tears still running down Nesta’s cheeks, her eyes red-rimmed and distant with guilt.

“For what?” she asked softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from Nesta’s face.

“I saw you die.” Nesta choked out. Her voice was hoarse, broken. “I watched them kill you and I couldn’t stop it.”

Liandrin stilled, but only for a heartbeat. She tilted Nesta’s face up gently with a hand beneath her chin. “It wasn’t real, Nesta.” she whispered. “I’m here. I’m right here with you.”

“But it felt real.” Nesta gasped, her voice splintering again. “It was real. Every part of it, every scream, every...”

Liandrin swallowed hard, her arms tightening instinctively around Nesta’s trembling frame. She couldn’t take the pain away, but she wished she could tear those memories from Nesta’s mind, wished she could burn the Arches themselves to ash. But she was powerless to undo what had been done.

She had spent so long cultivating control of herself, of every situation, of every action. But now, holding Nesta like this, watching her fall apart and knowing there was no weave in the world that could fix it, Liandrin felt as lost as she had as a novice all those years ago, punished, belittled and told to hold her tongue.

But right now she could stay strong for Nesta. She could be the arms Nesta collapsed into when the world became too much. She could be the steady warmth in a storm of agony.

Liandrin brushed her fingers through the braid, as if by some miracle, she could untangle the pain with her hands. “You don’t have to be sorry.” she said softly. “Not for surviving. Not for being forced to live through something like that.”

“But I...” Nesta tried again, her lip trembling.

“No, you came back.” Liandrin cut in, still gently. “You endured what no one should ever have to see. What you felt, what you did, doesn’t make you weak. It makes you strong.” Her thumb traced a soft line across Nesta’s cheek. “It makes you alive.”

Nesta’s lips parted as if to argue, but her voice failed her. The tears came again, quiet now, and she let her forehead rest against Liandrin’s, drawing in the only warmth that didn’t feel like it would burn her from the inside out.

Liandrin held her with infinite care, as if Nesta were made of shattered glass, but still whole. Her hand never stopped moving, stroking her back, smoothing over the tension in her shoulders, her fingers threading lightly through Nesta’s damp hair.

“You’re safe.” she whispered again, her lips brushing Nesta’s temple. “You did what you had to. And nothing in this world, or any other, could ever make me stop being proud of you.”

Nesta let out a shaky breath, her weight slumping further into Liandrin’s arms. Her heartbeat still raced beneath her ribs, but for the first time, she felt it slowing. The pain was still there, lodged in her chest like a blade, but Liandrin’s voice, her hands, her whole presence dulled the edge of it, just enough for her to breathe again.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Nesta murmured. “It felt so real.”

“I’m here, my love.” Liandrin said again, firmer this time, as if willing Nesta to believe it down to her bones. “You’re mine and I’m yours.”

“I love you so much.” Nesta whispered.

The older woman brushed her thumbs over the girl’s wet cheeks. “Let me take care of you now.”

Slowly, she guided Nesta to sit on the edge of the bed, her touch tender, as if she could ease all of Nesta’s pain through every point of contact. And then, without hesitation, Liandrin knelt before her. Her knees touched the floor, and for a moment, she stilled.

She had been forced to kneel before, by those who thought that power came from humiliation and pain. The position had always felt like a cage, a reminder of who held the reins and who didn’t. But now, kneeling in front of Nesta felt different. There was no shame in this. It was her choice and it was the first time she’d ever willingly lowered herself for another. Not out of duty, not from fear, but from love. She loved this woman so fiercely, she’d give her anything.

Liandrin reached forward, her fingers brushing the hem of the soaked shift Nesta wore. The fabric clung to her skin, heavy with sweat and water. She paused, meeting Nesta’s eyes. “May I?” she asked softly.

Nesta gave the faintest nod.

Liandrin undressed her with gentle precision, peeling away the damp fabric from her skin. As her hands moved, her mind whispered a truth she’d never dared to voice aloud, If kneeling before anyone ever made sense, it would be her. I would kneel for her a thousand times, just to see her breathe again and come back to me.

Nesta blinked slowly, the world coming back into focus not through breath or reason, but through Liandrin’s touch. The way her warm hands lingered, as if she was trying to knit Nesta’s shattered pieces back together. She hadn’t realized how much she was trembling until she felt the absence of cold.

When she finally looked down, her gaze met the sight of Liandrin still kneeling at her feet. She swallowed hard, emotions catching in her throat as her gaze flickered to the woman who was taking care of her.

Has anyone ever seen her like this? The question echoed quietly in her mind. Has she ever let herself be this soft for anyone else?

Liandrin, whose name carried the fear and power. Who could silence a room with a single glance, who walked through fire without blinking, who had faced enemies without flinching. Yet now she was only gentle and real, allowing Nesta to see a part of her that the world never had.

She slowly rose from where she knelt, her joints aching faintly, as she moved behind Nesta. Her pale fingers reached up, moving gently to undo the braid that she had tied that morning. It had been firm and precise back then, a reminder of Liandrin’s support. But now it felt too tight and wet after the trial.

Liandrin’s touch was tender as she loosened each twist and tuck. She smoothed out the strands with her hands, careful not to tug, combing through them with a patience. The braid unraveled in her fingers like the unraveling of a storm, and she let Nesta’s hair fall freely around her shoulders.

“Thank you for the braid.” Nesta said, reaching out to take Liandrin’s hand in hers. “During the trial, I kept reaching for it. It reminded me of you. Of your strength...” she hesitated, her voice catching, “Of your love.”

“I meant it to protect you.” she murmured, as her fingers gently combed through the loosened strands of Nesta’s hair.

A quiet beat passed, before she added, “I knew you wouldn’t be allowed to take anything into the Arches. No tokens, no rings, nothing of comfort. So I gave you what I could. Something I hoped you’d carry inside you. A piece of me.” Her voice softened even more, completely vulnerable. “A reminder that you wouldn’t be going through it alone.”

“It did.” Nesta said calmly. “It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

Liandrin’s jaw tensed, not with anger, but with the fragile ache of holding back emotion. She gave a slow nod, her thumb brushing over Nesta’s fingers. “You never were.”

For a moment, the older woman just watched her. She traced the lines of her face with her eyes, committing every of emotion, every flicker of recovery. And then, she reached toward the small carved box she had tucked into the drawer near the bed, her fingers brushing its edges with quiet resolve.

“I have something for you, Lioness.” she murmured.

Nesta blinked, barely moving, her breath catching as Liandrin sat up fully and opened the box. Inside, the choker caught the candlelight like it had been waiting for flame to wake it. A perfect circle of rubies, deep, blood-red stones strung so tightly together that they shimmered like liquid fire.

“As I said, I knew they wouldn’t let you take anything with you into the Arches, but I wanted something to be waiting for you when you came back.” Liandrin said softly.

She looked up then, eyes softer than Nesta had ever seen them. “It’s not just a gift. It’s a vow, that you are mine.” Her voice dropped lower, more vulnerable. “You wore my braid into battle. And this is what I give you now, to wear in peace.”

Nesta was stunned not by the beauty of it, though it was stunning, but by what it meant. Not just a symbol of ownership. Not just a mark. But love, carved into every facet of the rubies. Love, wrapped around her throat like protection. She had never imagined anyone would look at her like this. Claim her not to possess, but to cherish.

Carefully Liandrin gathered the choker in her hands and moved closer. “May I?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost shy.

Nesta nodded, throat too tight to speak.

Liandrin leaned in and carefully fastened the collar around Nesta’s neck. The stones were cool at first against her skin, but they warmed quickly with her touch. Nesta reached up to touch it. It fit perfectly, like it had been made only for her. “I’ve never...” she began, then trailed off, her voice thick with emotion. She tried again. “I’ve never had something like this. Not just the gift, but the meaning.”

She swallowed, her thumb brushing over one of the small rubies. “You made me feel like I belonged to myself again.” her eyes met Liandrin’s, shimmering, “But this makes me feel like I belong to you, too. And I want that with all my heart.”

Liandrin’s chest rose, her lips parting with a breath that trembled slightly. She reached up and cupped Nesta’s cheek, leaning in until their foreheads touched.

“You do, you always have.” she whispered.

They stayed like that for a long moment, two women forged by fire and pain, finding peace in the possession of one another. Not just through control, but through trust and love.

Tears welled in Nesta’s eyes again, but this time they weren’t from the raw, haunting echoes of the trial. This time, they were born from something deeper. The realization of everything she’d never allowed herself to believe, that she was worthy of love, that someone saw her for all she was, flaws and all, and chose to stay, to love her fiercely. It was a tenderness she hadn’t known she needed, a warmth that filled the empty spaces where she had once believed only emptiness would remain.

“I can’t even begin to thank you enough.” she said. Her hand, trembling slightly, reached up to cover Liandrin’s where it rested against her cheek. “You’ve given me so much. You’ve made me feel loved, in a way I’ve never known.”

Liandrin’s lips curved upward in the smallest of smiles. “You were always worthy of love.” she murmured, her voice full of an affection. “I’ve always seen it in you.”

Nesta leaned in, unable to stop herself, and she captured Liandrin’s lips with her own, kissing her with the kind of urgency that came from everything that had built up inside her. The longing, the pain, the gratitude, and most of all the love.

Liandrin’s mouth was warm, yielding, then demanding, her hands sliding up to cradle Nesta’s face. The first brush of lips was soft, almost questioning, but then Nesta tilted her head, deepening the kiss with desperation, her fingers threading into Liandrin’s hair. A sigh escaped between them, half-breath, half-pleasure, as their bodies pressed closer, every curve aligning as if they had been made to fit just like this.

The kiss burned with intensity. Nesta traced Liandrin’s lips with her tongue, and when Liandrin opened for her, the taste was intoxicating and sharp, like red wine. There was hunger in the way Liandrin nipped at her lower lip, but there was tenderness, in the way her thumbs brushed Nesta’s cheeks.

They broke apart only when they were both breathless, both trembling, faces flushed and hearts racing. “It’s time to rest.” Liandrin murmured. 

Nesta’s arms had started to tremble again, the lingering echoes of the trial still etched in her muscles. Without needing to be asked, Liandrin reached for her wrists, cradling them with gentleness.

She brought one hand to her lips, kissed the skin just above the pulse point, and then guided Nesta silently to lay down. They climbed beneath the covers together, the motion slow and careful, as if even the rustling of sheets could disturb the fragile calm they had built. Liandrin settled behind her first, waiting just long enough for Nesta to draw in a shaky breath before gently pulling her back against her chest.

Liandrin wrapped herself around Nesta completely. One arm slid firmly around her waist, securing her close, while the other curled around her neck. And with the same unspoken devotion, Liandrin gently hooked one leg around both of Nesta’s, intertwining them fully beneath the blankets. She shifted forward just enough to press her body flush to Nesta’s back, the steady rhythm of her breathing washing over the girl’s spine. She wasn’t just beside her. She was surrounding her.

“You came back to me.” Liandrin whispered against her ear. “You remembered. You fought for us.”

Nesta’s fingers reached for the arm around her middle, holding it tightly. “Thank you, Lia.” she breathed. “For waiting, for the braid, for the necklace. For loving me, when I didn’t even know how to love myself.”

Liandrin nuzzled gently against the back of her head, her nose brushing through strands of unbound hair. “I don’t care what the world says about us.” she whispered. “You’re mine, Nesta. And I will always love you fiercely.”

As the night deepened and their bodies relaxed, the ruby choker at Nesta’s throat caught the low light from the candlelight. It gleamed like embers, a true mark of love.

[nestadevries]

sometimes I see WoT pics outside of tumblr and wonder if my mutuals have seen them yet.

today it’s you, @fleetwoodsnakk 🥀

[nestadevries]

Chapter 13 | Between Love and Fear

Notes: I hope you enjoy their complex, yet unique relationship. The next chapter will finally dive into the Arches! - around 8k words

The sun hadn't risen yet when Nesta woke, her body aching like she’d been dragged across gravel. For a moment, she stayed still, unsure if she was in the dream or out of it. Her skin felt too tight and sore, like something dark still lingered beneath it. Slowly, she shifted and winced.

Her wrists throbbed and so did her ankles. She pulled the blanket back and stared at the dark bruises. They circled her wrists and ankles like shackles, the stark reminder that whatever had happened in her sleep hadn’t been just a bad dream. No, this was real. Real in the way that it left marks, real in the way it made her feel like a prisoner in her own body.

Nesta's gaze remained fixed on the bruises, a grimace pulling at her lips. She tried not to feel the panic, to keep control of her breath and her mind, even when her body was trying to betray her.

And then came the weight of a presence behind her, the warmth of a body next to hers.

The bed creaked and a hand reached over her waist. The warmth spreading through her and with it, Liandrin’s sleepy voice, soft and almost tender in its familiarity. “You’re awake.”

Nesta’s breath faltered, not from the pain, but from the quiet comfort Liandrin’s voice offered. She hadn’t realized how much she’d been craving it until she heard it.

The older woman stirred behind her, murmuring something soft until she opened her eyes and froze.

“What...” Liandrin’s gasped. A heartbeat passed as she took in the sight in front of her. Her eyes dropped to Nesta’s wrists, then down to her ankles, where the bruises marred her skin. Disbelief washed over her face.

For a moment, she didn’t move at all. Her chest was rising and falling faster now, as if she were struggling to keep her composure. Her eyes lingered on the marks, and she looked truly horrified. The pulse in Liandrin’s neck throbbed, her eyes darting back up to meet Nesta’s.

Before the girl could even blink, Liandrin’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Too rough and too fast, which drew a gasp from her and she recoiled like she’d touched fire.

Slowly, she reached for Nesta’s wrist again, this time with more caution, fingers shaking, barely brushing the skin. Her gaze flickered between Nesta’s bruises and her face, as if looking for some clue to explain the impossibility of what she was seeing. The storm in her eyes swirled darker, more chaotic now. Fury was bubbling beneath the surface, but something fragile was there too.

“I don’t understand.” Liandrin’s voice cracked, her words faltering, strained with something raw. “How did this happen?”

Her grip trembled against Nesta’s skin, like she was trying to hold the pieces of herself together, as if the fury inside her might shatter her from the inside out if she let go for even a second.

Nesta didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t explain it. She couldn’t even make sense of it herself. And yet, as Liandrin’s trembling hand lingered on her skin, Nesta’s heart softened, as she felt the heat of Liandrin’s confusion like a physical weight pressing against her chest. But it wasn’t violent. It was desperate.

Slowly, she exhaled, her voice quiet but firm. “I don’t know how... She comes to me in my dreams.”

The words hung in the air, and the tension in the room only deepened. Liandrin was barely breathing, her hand still lightly grazing Nesta’s wrist, but the weight of her lover's admission felt like a heavy burden.

“Dreams?” Liandrin repeated softly, as if testing the word on her tongue. Her brow furrowed, and her lips parted slightly, but the realization hit her quickly.

Nesta closed her eyes for a brief second, and when she opened them again, she said, “She seems very powerful. I can feel it. Every time she comes to me, it’s like the world fades away, and I’m trapped in her power.”

Liandrin’s gaze darkened as she leaned closer. “Is the bruise I saw on your neck yesterday from her?”

“Yes, Lia.” she whispered.

Liandrin’s face hardened once more, though her eyes still softened with concern. “This isn’t right.” she muttered, more to herself than to Nesta. “No one should be able to touch you like that. Not in your sleep. Not in your mind.”

But even as she spoke, her eyes flickered with guilt. There was nothing tangible she could do to fix this. No direct power over what had been done. Only this rage, this gut-deep ache, burning in her chest.

Nesta felt the tremor in Liandrin’s hands, the rawness of the emotion leaking through. Her pulse quickened, her instinct to calm the storm inside Liandrin kicking in. Slowly, she moved closer, her hands trembling as they lifted to cup Liandrin’s cheek. The touch was soft, but it carried a silent plea.

“I won’t let her take you.” Liandrin said, her voice stronger now, possessive. She reached up to gently hold Nesta’s hand, as if grounding herself in the connection between them. “I’ll destroy anyone who tries to hurt you.”

Nesta’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I know, but it’s not your fight.”

“You don’t have to stop her alone.” Liandrin’s eyes burned with a fierceness that made Nesta’s heart pound in her chest. “I won’t let you face this by yourself. Not when I’m here.”

“Liandrin, what if she’s already too powerful for us to stop?” Nesta spoke again, her voice seemed stronger, though still filled with uncertainty.

“Then I’ll make sure she understands what happens when she tries to touch what belongs to me.”

The possessiveness in Liandrin's voice sent a shiver down Nesta’s spine. It was unmistakable, and in a strange way, it gave her comfort.

“Let’s get you healed now.” Liandrin said, her voice low, almost a command, but there was an undercurrent of tenderness that softened it. “We can’t let her keep leaving marks on you.”

Nesta didn’t hesitate this time, feeling the strange pull to follow her lead. She had to trust Liandrin, even if she didn’t fully understand everything yet.

The Aes Sedai’s gaze never wavered as she gently placed her hands over the bruises on Nesta’s skin, her fingers warm and steady. She let the Power flow through her, an extension of herself, as it began to weave the fabric of healing. She could feel the raw intensity of the marks on Nesta’s skin, the remnants of whatever nightmare had tormented her.

Liandrin’s brow furrowed in concentration, and there was a slight tremor in her hands that she couldn’t quite hide, a sign that healing wasn't her strongest skill. Still, she persisted. The Power swirled around them, vibrant but hesitant, and Nesta felt its warmth flood through her skin, soothing the angry, dark marks from the nightmare.

As the bruise on her wrist began to fade, Liandrin let out a slow, quiet breath, her lips pressing into a thin line. Her voice was low, but it carried that familiar authority. “You should have told me about this sooner.” she said, her words cutting through the silence like a blade. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

Nesta flinched slightly at the reprimand but quickly masked it with a sharp, defiant smile. She didn’t want to appear weak, not even now, not even in front of Liandrin.

“I didn’t think I needed to.” Nesta said, her voice full of that familiar cockiness. “I’m fine, it’s just a few bruises. Not like it’s anything new.”

Liandrin’s blue eyes narrowed, and the heat of her gaze intensified. “Don’t lie, pet.” she said, her voice dipping lower. “I’m not someone you can brush off with a smile. Not when you’re covered in marks like this.”

The words were more of a command than a suggestion, and Nesta raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain her bravado, but there was a flicker of doubt in her expression. “Fine. But, I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

“You think I don’t want to be dragged into it? You think I don’t want to protect you?” She worked quickly over the bruises on Nesta’s wrist, but she didn’t look up.

“It’s not what I meant.” Nesta scoffed, but the edge to her voice softened. “You know it, Lia.”

“I need you to be honest with me. Not just about what’s happening in your dreams, but about everything.” she said, her voice firm, cutting through the deflection.

“I didn’t think it was that serious.” Nesta said, her voice quieter now. “At first, I thought it was just a dream.”

Liandrin didn’t let her get away with the vagueness. She leaned in slightly, her tone more insistent. “This is more than a dream. We both know it. And I won’t stand by while someone uses you like this.”

Her hand continued to hover over the bruises, there was an intimacy in the way she worked, as if she wasn’t just healing the body, but peeling back the layers of fear and stubbornness that had built up around Nesta's heart over the years.

As Liandrin finally pulled away, leaving behind only a faint trace of warmth, Nesta stared at the fading marks that had once seemed so permanent. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you, Lioness. Even when you act like a stubborn fool.” The words were sharp but affectionate, a playful reminder of their dynamic.

With surprising force, the older woman grabbed a lock of Nesta’s hair, tugging her closer. The sharp pull made Nesta gasp, her spine arching instinctively at the sudden dominance. Long pale fingers tightened, holding her in place, ensuring there was no escape, not that Nesta wanted one.

For a second, Liandrin’s blue eyes burned into hers, and the tension between them thickened like a storm about to break. Nesta’s heart beat faster, a mix of confusion and anticipation swirling in her chest. But before she could even process what was happening, Liandrin’s lips found hers.

The kiss wasn’t frantic, not like the usual heat of desire. It was soft and tentative, as if Liandrin herself was trying to slow down time to savor the moment. She deepened the kiss gently, as if trying to communicate something that words could never reach.

Nesta’s hands moved instinctively to Liandrin’s arms, gripping her with a mixture of need and gratitude, wanting more of this closeness. A moan rose in her throat, swallowed by the woman’s relentless mouth. Her strong grip in Nesta’s hair tightened, angling her head just so, controlling the kiss. Her tongue moved with ruthless precision, curling against Nesta’s.

The rhythm was maddening, a relentless push and pull that left Nesta dizzy, her fingers clawing at Liandrin’s arms for balance. For that one moment, there was nothing else. No nightmares, no bruises, just the soft pressure of Liandrin’s lips and the warmth of her touch.

When Liandrin finally pulled back, her breath as shallow as Nesta’s. “You’re so stubborn.” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Nesta smiled, her usual smirk making its appearance even as her pulse still hammered in her chest. “But you like it.” she replied softly.

-

The gardens were quiet in the morning, but not peaceful. A cold wind stirred the petals of the carefully kept flowers, making them shiver like they sensed something wasn’t right. Despite the brilliant colors blooming along the path, roses, irises, early tulips, the air felt wrong to Nesta.

She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders and walked slower than usual, as if the garden might bite if she stepped too hard. The echo of last night’s dream clung to her like damp smoke.

“Good morning, Nesta.” came a soft, melodic voice.

Nesta turned, and Alanna stood beneath the twisted arch of an old wisteria, its hanging blooms just beginning to open. She looked radiant, and as always calm, too at ease in a world that felt like it was cracking beneath Nesta’s feet.

“Good morning, Alanna Sedai.” Nesta replied, voice even despite the knot in her chest.

Alanna studied her. “You look a bit wary today."

She’d seen the signs the moment Nesta approached. The slight tension in her shoulders, the faint shadows under her eyes, the way her movements were just a fraction slower, like she hadn’t quite returned from wherever her dreams had taken her. And something in her expression, that seemed too sharp for morning.

Nesta didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted to the garden around them, the way the wind tugged at the flowers. “It’s alright.” She forced herself to give a tight-lipped smile.

Alanna nodded, as if she understood far more than she let on. “The days before the Arches test are never easy. But you are closer than you think. And more ready than you feel.”

She moved forward a step, her tone warm and coaxing. “And when you return, you’ll be one step closer to choose your Ajah. Have you given more thought about it?”

Nesta didn’t miss the emphasis, nor the gentle way Alanna’s hand gestured to the green silk ribbon braided into her hair. “You still think I belong with your Ajah?”

“I think you would thrive in it.” Alanna said with an approving smile. “Your heart, your fire and loyalty. You would be among sisters who know the value of those things.”

“She’s not going to the Green.” Liandrin’s voice cut through the garden like a drawn blade, sharp, cold, and deliberate. Her approach had been silent, but her presence never was. Red silk rustled around her like living fire as she strode down the stone path, and even the wind seemed to still in her wake.

Her golden hair was loose, cascading down her back in soft, flawless waves, except for a single braid at the back, intricate and precise, like a quiet symbol of control. It swung subtly as she walked.

Her gaze swept over Alanna with open disdain before landing on Nesta. For a fleeting moment, a hint of concern flickered in her eyes, but just as swiftly, the mask fell back into place, concealing all beneath its unyielding surface. 

“She already belongs to someone.” she said coolly, stepping between them, a wall in crimson. Her hand brushed Nesta’s arm with deliberate ease, possessive without needing to hold.

Alanna’s smile didn’t fade, but a flash of amusement flickered in her amber eyes. She tilted her head slightly, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “Belongs, does she? I wasn’t aware the Tower allowed such claims. Not the Green, at least.”

The Red Sister’s expression tightened. “I’m not in the mood for games, Alanna.” she said, her voice dangerously low.

Alanna took a slow step forward, her smile stretching just a little wider. “Oh, I’m not playing. But I do wonder, if you’re so sure of your claim, why the possessiveness? She’s not a child, Liandrin. She can choose her own path. Don’t you think she deserves that?”

There it was. A challenge, a test of strength, subtle yet undeniable. Alanna wasn’t backing down, her voice dripping with quiet challenge, her eyes glinting like she knew she had struck a nerve.

Liandrin didn’t flinch, but her posture became more rigid. She was used to being in control, used to commanding respect. But Alanna’s taunting words felt like a fire licking at her heels.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you, Sister.” Liandrin said, her tone as cold as ever, but her eyes never left Alanna’s. “Nesta knows exactly where she belongs. If you have a problem with that, take it up with her.”

Alanna’s eyes flicked to Nesta briefly, but her smirk didn’t waver. “Oh, I’m sure she does. But does she want to belong? Or is it just easier to be claimed than to choose?”

Nesta’s gaze flicking between them. The garden had never felt so small, so suffocating. She didn’t need to be part of this conflict. But the pull of Liandrin’s presence, the way the woman stood so fiercely between her and Alanna unsettled her. She wasn’t a pawn to be tossed about. 

Liandrin took a deliberate step forward. “You would do well to remember your place, Alanna. This one has already chosen her path.” she gestured toward Nesta with a slight tilt of her head. “I’ve made sure of that.” Her lips curled in a small, tight smile, but there was no humor in it. Only warning.

The Green Sister’s smile never faltered, though the challenge in her eyes remained. “We’ll see.” she said quietly, her tone laden with meaning.

Liandrin didn’t spare her another glance. “Come.” she said to Nesta, the command more pronounced this time. “You’ve wasted enough time.”

Nesta nodded, her voice low, but unwavering. “Yes, Liandrin Sedai.”

Liandrin turned, red skirts flaring as she moved with swift precision. Nesta followed closely, sparing Alanna only the briefest of glance.

-

Nesta hit the ground hard, shoulder first, breath knocked clean out of her lungs. Again.

She didn’t even have time to curse before Liandrin was on her, knee to her chest, pinning her wrists to the floor with infuriating ease.

"You're not focusing, that would’ve gotten you killed." Liandrin snapped, her breath sharp.

Nesta bared her teeth, straining against the hold. “Maybe I’m tired of being thrown like a sack of flour every five seconds.”

“Then do something about it.” Liandrin’s voice dropped, low and firm, but there was no gentleness in it. Just tightly coiled control. “Stop hesitating. You fight like you’re afraid of your own strength.”

Nesta’s chest rose and fell too fast, heat and shame warring beneath her skin. “I’m not afraid.”

The older woman didn’t move. Just stared down at her, unblinking. “Liar.”

The word landed like a slap. Not loud, not cruel, but devastating in its precision. Nesta wanted to argue, to deny it again, but the frustration that surged to her tongue wasn’t born from denial. It was truth. And that truth terrified her.

Liandrin’s eyes flickered, not with triumph, but with something softer. Something that almost looked like pain. “You think you can hide it from me?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “I see the way you hold back every time you strike. The way you brace yourself before touching the Power, like it might devour you whole. And maybe it would, but you’re letting it define you.”

Nesta didn’t look away. She couldn’t, her mouth was dry. Her body trembled from more than exertion.

The Aes Sedai stared for a heartbeat longer, then released her and stood in one fluid motion. “Get up.”

Nesta rolled onto her knees. Her breath was uneven, not just from the sparring, but from everything that simmered beneath her skin. Shame. Rage. Longing. She pushed herself up, rising slowly, like it took more effort to hold her emotions than her body.

“You think I’m being cruel?” Liandrin asked quietly, watching as Nesta rose. “You think I enjoy this?”

Nesta opened her mouth, but Liandrin was already moving again. She struck with fast precision, forcing Nesta to block.

“You’re going to the Arches tomorrow.” Liandrin growled. “You think they’ll go easy on you?”

Nesta snapped a strike back, too fast and too angry, but Liandrin caught it with a twist of her wrist and spun her down again, harder this time. Hard enough that the girl’s breath left her in a ragged gasp.

Pinned. Again.

Liandrin hovered above her. “I won’t lose you to them.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them and Nesta blinked, her own anger faltering on the spot.

“So if you think this is about discipline or pride or control, it’s not. It’s me keeping you alive. Because no one else in that damned Tower will.” Liandrin’s chest heaved. 

She dropped to one knee, finally meeting Nesta’s blue eyes, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, hoarse and desperate. “They’ll smile and nod and let you walk to your death if it suits their rules. But not me.”

The older woman didn’t move, she just stayed in the same position. And Nesta finally saw it for what it was. Neither control, nor cruelty. But care. Fierce and terrifying and devouring.

Nesta let out a short breath, not quite a laugh. “You act like you don’t care what anyone thinks. Like nothing touches you. But this? Me?” She shook her head slightly. “You’ve been bleeding fear from the moment I woke up with bruises today.”

Liandrin flinched at that.

“You could’ve just said that, you know.” Nesta said, softer this time. “Could’ve told me you worry before pinning me down like a rag doll.”

“And you would’ve listened from the first time?”

Nesta hesitated, because no, she wouldn’t have.

Liandrin leaned in slightly, her breath brushing against Nesta’s face. “You don’t need soft words. You need someone who won’t let you fall. Someone who isn’t afraid to grab you by the throat if that’s what it takes to keep you alive.”

She let the words hang there, then added, quieter but just as firm, “I don’t coddle what’s mine, Nesta. I protect it with all my power.”

Nesta felt her breath hitch, her body trembling slightly under the weight of the words. There was no anger in them, no cruel intent. Just a certainty, a brutal truth that made her pulse race.

“You’re not a rag doll.” Liandrin said, voice rough. “You’re a storm. And storms don’t get coddled. They get claimed.”

-

After their shared bath, the warm steam clinging to their skin, Nesta stood by the mirror, brushing out the damp strands of her hair. Her body throbbed with the aftereffects of the session, muscles sore from being tossed around, pinned down, and overwhelmed by Liandrin's power.

Her eyes flicked through the mirror to the woman sitting on the edge of the bed. Liandrin's hair, completely loose and flowing around her shoulders, while she was watching Nesta. 

The space between them thickened as Nesta’s gaze locked on Liandrin’s exposed skin, her lips curled into a teasing smile, as she broke the silence. “Admiring your own work on my body?” she said, her voice low and dripping with challenge.

She knew exactly how to push the older woman’s buttons. How to toy with her, make her simmer with frustration until she couldn’t stand it anymore. The thought of testing Liandrin’s patience, of seeing just how far she could go before Liandrin snapped, thrilled her.

Liandrin’s voice came out in a tight whisper. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

Nesta leaned in slightly, her fingers brushing the edge of the mirror as she locked eyes with Liandrin. “Clever? I’m just asking if you like what you did.” she teased, her tone shifting with a playful edge.

The Aes Sedai’s chest rose and fell with a sharp breath, her fingers twitching at her sides as if she were holding herself back from reacting. But Nesta, emboldened by the fire she’d sparked, let the silence stretch between them, a challenge that thickened the air.

Slowly, Nesta walked toward Liandrin, her steps deliberate, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and anticipation. She drew closer and closer, until she was within arm’s reach, standing right in front of her.

Liandrin’s eyes flashed, and the tension broke in an instant. Before Nesta could react, she was yanked forward with a suddenness that stole the breath from her lungs. One moment, she was standing, the next, she was roughly pulled into Liandrin’s lap, her body straddling the woman’s. 

“You think you can just toy with me like this?” Liandrin growled, her hands gripped Nesta’s waist, possessive, unyielding, as she pulled the younger woman closer. The heat from her body seared Nesta’s skin. 

“I think I can do whatever I want.” Nesta whispered, a defiant challenge in her tone.

Liandrin’s grip tightened around her hips, her hands rough, bruising, and for a moment, it felt like the room was holding its breath. “Don’t be a fool, pet.” Liandrin growled.

The words hit Nesta like a punch to the gut, but instead of retreating, a jolt of desire shot straight to her core, her body reacting instinctively, arching into Liandrin’s, wanting more. The woman’s lips crashed against hers in a kiss that was pure fire, rough, and passionate. There was no room for games anymore. No room for teasing. Just the burning need between them that they couldn’t deny any longer.

“You’re mine.” Liandrin growled again, her voice dripping with possessiveness.

Nesta gasped as Liandrin’s teeth grazed her bottom lip, the sharp sting only fueling the heat pooling low in her belly. Her fingers tangled in golden hair, pulling her closer, needing to erase any space between them. The taste of her, dark and intoxicating, drove Nesta wild, and she answered with a hunger of her own, nipping at Liandrin’s lip in retaliation.

A low, approving hum vibrated against Nesta’s lips before Liandrin’s hands slid down her body, gripping her waist with bruising force. In one fluid motion, she spun them, pulling Nesta down and laying her flat on the bed.

Before Nesta could process, Liandrin was on top of her, their bodies aligning as Liandrin’s thigh pressed between hers. The pale fingers traced the exposed line of the girl’s throat, before tightening just enough to make her pulse jump, a faint pressure that only heightened the desire coursing through veins.

“Say it.” she commanded, as she held Nesta firmly in place.

Nesta’s defiance flared, even as her body arched into touch. “Make me.”

Liandrin’s laugh was a dark, and she dragged her lips down Nesta’s neck, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

The younger woman’s breath hitched, her nails digging into Liandrin’s shoulders as pleasure and pain twisted together in a dizzying rush.

Liandrin shifted her full weight down onto Nesta’s body, and the movement was so crushing, it felt like a claim being staked. Her hand moved lower, the intimate touch scorching, making Nesta’s pulse race, and soon, a moan tore from her lips as Liandrin’s fingers found the slick heat between her thighs. 

"So wet for me already, and we have only just begun." Liandrin murmured, her voice dripping with amusement.

The words echoed in Nesta’s mind, replaying over and over as her body trembled, caught between defiance and surrender. She was fighting against the wave of desire crashing over her, but it was impossible. Liandrin’s dominance, her presence, was too much, and Nesta was losing herself to it.

“Tell me who you belong to.” Liandrin’s voice was commanding.

Nesta’s breath caught in her throat, and before she could stop herself, the words left her lips. "I belong to you."

The Aes Sedai’s blue eyes flashed with satisfaction and she pressed her body harder against Nesta’s.

"Good girl." she murmured, her voice full of both pride and possessiveness.

Nesta's hips bucked against her hand, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. She was drowning in the feel of Liandrin's fingers teasing her, circling her, owning her.

Then, with a cruel, deliberate slowness, Liandrin withdrew, leaving Nesta aching, her body trembling in frustration. It was a punishment, the one that left her feeling completely exposed and yet craving more.

The older woman smirked, bringing her glistening fingers to the girl’s lips. "Lick." she commanded, her voice smooth, dripping with authority.

And Nesta quickly obeyed. Her tongue flicked out, slow at first, before the taste of herself on the woman’s fingers sent a fresh wave of heat. Her lips parted further, taking Liandrin's fingers deeper, sucking gently as her eyes locked onto the woman above her.

Liandrin's smirk deepened and she pulled her fingers free with a wet pop, trailing them down Nesta's chin, her throat, between her breasts. "But I don't think you've learned your lesson yet.”

Before Nesta could protest, Liandrin flipped her onto her stomach. She gasped as her hips were yanked back, her ass flush against Liandrin's thighs.

"You still think you're in control." Liandrin murmured, her hands sliding up the backs of Nesta's thighs, spreading her apart with deliberate, agonizing slowness. "Let me remind you who decides when you come.”

Nesta's breath hitched as she felt Liandrin's lips brush the sensitive skin just below her ear. "Beg, pet." Liandrin demanded, her voice rough with command.

She gritted her teeth, pride faring until Liandrin's fingers dragged through her slick folds from behind, circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her whimper.

"l said beg.”

Nesta's resolve shattered. "Please, Lia"

Liandrin's fingers plunged into her without warning, curling deep, and Nesta choked on a moan, her body clamping down around them.

"Please what?" Liandrin's other hand slid beneath Nesta, gripping her throat.

"Please, fuck me.”

Liandrin's laugh was victorious. "That's what I thought."

And then she moved her fingers in and out, her thumb pressing ruthless circles against Nesta's clit, her teeth marking every inch of skin she could reach.

Nesta came with a broken cry, her vision whitening out as pleasure ripped through her, wave after wave, until she was limp and trembling beneath Liandrin's merciless hands. Only then Liandrin slowly withdraw with a satisfied hum.

She turned Nesta onto her back, gazing down at her wrecked expression with a predator's smile. "Now, was that so hard?" she murmured, dragging a fingertip through the mess between thighs before bringing it to her own lips.

Nesta's chest heaved, her skin flushed and oversensitive. But before she could even think, Liandrin moved. In one fluid motion, she straddled the girl’s chest, her thighs caging Nesta's head as she settled back, her dripping core hovering just above Nesta's parted lips.

The scent of her, musky and intoxicating, flooded Nesta's senses.

"Open." Liandrin commanded, her voice thick with dominance.

Nesta's tongue flicking out instinctively, and with a sharp roll of hips, Liandrin got what she wanted.

The girl's world narrowed to the slick, suffocating heat of Liandrin's cunt pressing down on her tongue, the salty-sweet taste of her arousal, and the way her breath hitched when Nesta sucked gently.

"Fuck…" Liandrin's fingers tangled in Nesta's hair, yanking as she rode her face with ruthless precision.

Nesta's hands darted to Liandrin's thighs, nails digging in as she devoured her, licking and sucking in desperate, hungry strokes. She could feel Liandrin's muscles tightening, hear the way her moans grew and with a sharp cry, Liandrin broke. Her thighs quivered around Nesta’s head, tightening with each wave of release that crashed through her. The taste of Liandrin flooded the Nesta's tongue, hot and heady.

She didn’t hesitate, as she drank her in, every drop, every trembling sigh. Her own body throbbed with need, but she kept her mouth and hands devoted, steady even as her heart pounded in desperation.

Liandrin didn’t relent. She rolled her hips once more, pressing down with purpose, drawing out the final ripples of her climax as she rode Nesta’s mouth with grace. Only when the last tremor passed through her, she lifted herself.

Nesta’s cheeks were flushed, her lips slick and parted, breath coming in shallow pants, her chin glistened, streaked with the evidence of Liandrin’s pleasure. Blue eyes, brilliant and dazed, met Liandrin’s with a glint of raw hunger and satisfaction.

Liandrin’s gaze darkened with possession as she reached down, her thumb swiping slowly through the moisture along Nesta’s cheek. Her touch lingered for a bit, before she brought her thumb to the girl's lips.

"Perfect." she whispered, the word heavy with pride and want.

Nesta parted her lips obediently, letting Liandrin slide the thumb inside, sucking gently, her tongue curling around it without breaking eye contact. The sight alone sent another rush of heat through the woman’s body, but she only smirked, as she leaned in close.

“Now, you look like mine.” she murmured against her lips.

“Glad I could be of service.” Nesta said, voice low and wicked. “Didn’t know you could fall apart like that. Almost makes me want to try harder next time.”

“Careful.” Liandrin said smoothly, though her tone was anything but calm. “That mouth of yours might get you in trouble.”

Nesta licked her lips deliberately. “Or keep me exactly where I want to be.”

The Aes Sedai laughed. “Oh, you will.” she whispered, leaning closer until their lips nearly brushed. “Flat on your back, trembling, and begging for me.”

Liandrin pulled back just enough to lock eyes with Nesta, her gaze burning with dark intent. And without a word, she stood up, her fingers trailing possessively down Nesta's body as she moved toward a cupboard.

Nesta's eyes sparked with surprise when Liandrin opened it, revealing a sleek, polished strap-on nestled inside. 

"Surprised?" she purred, running her fingers along the length.

The younger woman swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "Not as much as I should be."

Liandrin laughed and stepped back to the bed, holding it out. "Then help me.”

Nesta's fingers trembled slightly as she took it, her excitement thrumming beneath her skin. She fastened the harness around Liandrin's hips, adjusting the straps with deliberate slowness, her touch lingering on the dip of the woman’s waist.

"Now make it ready for me." The command sent a bolt of heat straight to Nesta's core. Without hesitation, she sank to her knees, and Liandrin's fingers tangled in her hair.

"Open.” Liandrin’s grip in Nesta's hair tightened like a vice.

Instantly, Nesta obeyed, her lips parting to take in the slick, unyielding length of the strap. She started slow, swirling her tongue around the tip, savoring the weight of it on her tongue, as a silent act of devotion.

But Liandrin had no patience for teasing, with a sharp tug, Nesta dragged her forward, forcing her to take the first few inches in one smooth glide.

Nesta’s throat fluttered with effort, her fingers digging into Liandrin’s thighs for balance as she adjusted. Her breath came in short bursts, more from excitement than fear.

“Deeper.” Liandrin ordered, her voice low, rough with need.

Nesta whimpered, but didn’t resist. She let herself go, let Liandrin guide her. The moment the tip hit the back of her throat, her body tensed, instincts flaring, but she didn’t pull away. She braced herself, offering more.

Liandrin pushed and tears welled in blue eyes from the strain. The burn was sharp, the lack of air dizzying and yet, beneath the discomfort, something primal throbbed within her. A need to please, to give, to belong.

The older woman groaned above her, rolling her hips in shallow, relentless thrusts. “Taking every inch like you were made for it.”

Nesta’s nails scraped across Liandrin’s thighs, her whole body trembling as she fought the instinct to gag. Spit slid down her chin, the pressure unrelenting. Her throat convulsed around it, her muscles straining. Each movement sent jagged sparks of painful pleasure arcing down her spine, her core throbbing in response. It was overwhelming and yet she didn’t want it to stop. All her thoughts were scattered and her mind reduced to a complete surrender and aching need.

Abruptly, Liandrin yanked Nesta off, letting her collapse forward, coughing, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Nesta’s throat felt used, sore in the best, most sinful way.

As if on instinct, she felt Liandrin’s fingers tangle in her hair, pulling her upward. Their mouths met in a feverish clash, Liandrin kissing her as though she owned every inch of her.

“Now, let me return the favor.” she murmured and hauled Nesta up and onto the bed, pressing her down into the sheets with another kiss.

Nesta arched against her, her legs falling open in shameless invitation. The first tease was deliberate, Liandrin dragged the tip through Nesta’s dripping heat, coating it further, letting her feel the pressure without giving her what she craved. Nesta whimpered, her hips lifting in silent plea.

“Patience.” She smirked.

The first real thrust stole Nesta’s breath away.

Liandrin sheathed herself in one smooth, relentless motion, burying deep until Nesta’s back bowed off the bed. A broken cry tore from her throat as she was filled completely, the stretch exquisite, the burn of it melting into pure pleasure. Liandrin didn’t move, just held herself there, letting the girl feel every inch of it. 

Nesta couldn’t speak, she could only gasp as Liandrin finally pulled back, only to slam into her again, harder this time. The slap of skin echoing in the room, each thrust hitting a spot that had her seeing stars.

 "Look at me.” Liandrin commanded.

Nesta forced her eyes open, meeting Liandrin's burning gaze. The raw possession there, the way her lips parted on a sharp exhale as she was moving, sent a fresh wave of heat through Nesta's body.

“Taking me so well." Liandrin breathed, as she rocked into her.

Nesta's nails scored down Liandrin's back, her body trembling with each relentless stroke. The pleasure built, sharp and sweet.

The older woman set a punishing pace, each thrust driving the breath from Nesta's lungs. The creak of the bed, the slap of skin against skin, the slick sound of Nesta taking every inch of her.

"Take it all, darling." Liandrin growled, her voice rough with want. She leaned down, catching Nesta's lower lip between her teeth as she snapped her hips forward, hitting just the right spot.

Nesta cried out, her legs locking around Liandrin's waist to pull her deeper. "Harder, please.”

Liandrin smirked, as she said, "Greedy." But she obliged, fucking into the woman with relentless precision, the angle shifting to grind against Nesta's clit with every downward stroke.

Nesta's vision blurred. Pleasure coiled tight in her belly, each thrust winding her closer to the edge. She could feel the sweat-slick press of Liandrin's body against hers, the way her own arousal soaked between them, the ache of being so thoroughly fucked.

"Come for me." Liandrin demanded, her thrusts turning erratic.

Nesta shattered. Her climax ripped through her, as she clenched around the woman’s body.

Liandrin didn’t relent. She fucked Nesta through it, each snap of her hips ruthless, dragging the pleasure out until Nesta sobbed, oversensitive and trembling.

When Nesta’s thighs shook violently around her, Liandrin buried herself deep one last time, her body trembling with the intensity of the moment. A ragged groan tore from her throat, as she pressed their foreheads together. For a moment, time seemed to slow, the air thick with the heat of their connection. They stayed locked together, breath mingling, bodies trembling, the air thick with the scent of sex and salt.

Slowly, Liandrin pulled back, her gaze raking over Nesta’s form, the heaving chest, the flushed skin, the mess between her thighs. A smirk curled her lips as she swiped her thumb through the slickness, bringing it to her own mouth with deliberate slowness. Her tongue flicked out, tasting, savoring.

“Delicious.” she murmured, her voice hushed and thick with admiration, before she gently pulled back. Her hands, once so rough and commanding, now moved with careful tenderness as she removed the strap-on.

When it was finally discarded, Liandrin moved to nestle closer, curling her body around the girl. She pressed her lips softly to Nesta's forehead, her breath warm against the cool, sweat-damp skin.

"I love you so much." She whispered, her voice low and vulnerable.

Nesta melted into her embrace, her own breath slow and steady now. The softness of the Liandrin’s touch seemed to soothe her, the rhythmic pulse of their heartbeats blending into a quiet harmony.

Liandrin’s hand gently cupped the back of Nesta’s head, pulling her closer. "I never thought I could love someone like this." her voice thick with emotion. "But you make everything worth it, Nesta. I want you to know that."

Nestled in her arms, Nesta's heart raced, not from the adrenaline of their earlier intensity but from the warmth of the affection that now surrounded her. It was a feeling she hadn’t dared to let herself believe in before, but now it was impossible to ignore. She tightened her arms around Liandrin, pulling her even closer.

"I love you too, Lia." she replied, her tone soft but filled with an undeniable certainty.

Liandrin's blue eyes softened, her lips curling into a tender smile. She leaned her forehead against Nesta's, breathing in the scent of her hair, savoring the calm that had settled between them. But after a quiet beat, her voice faltered.

"I’m scared for tomorrow." Liandrin admitted, her words almost too soft to hear. "I’m terrified, that I’ll lose you."

Nesta’s fingers gently cupped Liandrin's cheek, her touch warm and steady. "I’ll always come back to you." she reassured her. "No matter what happens, you’ll never lose me."

Liandrin closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. She nodded, pressing closer into the safety of Nesta's embrace, the weight of her fear lightened by the certainty in her lover's words.

They stayed there, wrapped in each other's arms, sharing quiet moments of affection.

-

One moment Nesta was curled against Liandrin’s warm body, drifting in the haze of sleep, and the next she stood on the cold stone. The world around her was cloaked in shadow, it felt like Tel’aran’rhiod, but different. More personal. It tasted of fear and blood, of buried memories clawing to the surface.

She looked down at her hands and flexed them slowly. Her fingers trembled faintly, as if her body already sensed what her mind hadn’t yet caught up with

Her clothes had shifted in the dream. She wore a flowing, semi-sheer black garment, high-slit at the thighs, embroidered with silver thread that shimmered like stars. It clung to her body, sensual and strange. Her hair, usually loose in waves, was swept back into intricate braids that crowned her head, falling down her back like a golden river. A dreamlike vision of power and elegance. Hauntingly similar to how she’d appeared in Tel’aran’rhiod before.

But this time, she didn’t feel powerful. She felt like an intruder.

As she took a step forward, her stomach churned with dread. Each breath was harder to take, as if the very air carried echoes of suffering. She could feel the lingering emotions bleeding into her skin. Grief. Humiliation. Rage.

And then she heard a voice, low and vicious.

"Stupid girl. You think you’re special? You’re nothing."

The corridor opened into a room, dimly lit by flickering torches. Nesta stepped forward and froze.

There was Liandrin. But she looked different, as if stripped of every shield she wore in waking life. Her wrists were bound behind her back with coarse rope, the fibers biting into her skin. She was on her knees, dress in tatters, blood on her lip. Her golden hair hung in limp, tangled strands, sweat and grime matting it to her face.

And behind her stood a man, a towering shadow of a figure, his face blurred by the shifting torchlight. In his hands, a thick leather whip.

“Say it.” he spat. “Say you deserve this.”

Liandrin raised her head slowly. Her hair was matted with sweat, the strands sticking to her face where bruises were beginning to bloom. “No.” she whispered. Her voice cracked, but it didn’t tremble.

The crack of the whip split the air. The force of it sent Liandrin lurching forward with a strangled gasp, her body convulsing against the binds that held her. Skin split open beneath the strike, a fresh line of crimson joining the wounds that marred her pale flesh.

The raw brutality of it stole the air from Nesta’s lungs. She flinched violently, instinctively reaching forward, only to find her legs unresponsive. Her entire body felt frozen in place.

Liandrin didn’t scream, but she gasped, sharp and shallow. Her spine bowing with pain, yet she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a scream.

Nesta’s vision blurred with tears she hadn’t realized had formed. Her heart thundered painfully in her chest. Please, move. Do something.

Another strike landed. Liandrin’s back arched with a choked, involuntary cry and still she didn’t break.

Nesta wanted to scream, to kill. Her nails bit into her palms. Rage and horror warred inside her, burning so hot she felt dizzy from it. Her body was still paralyzed, her breathing shallow and panicked.

The whip struck again, and Liandrin's knees buckled beneath her. She crumpled to the floor, her arms wrenched awkwardly by the binds that held her. A hoarse gasp tore from her throat, shallow and broken, her lips parting with a word so fragile it barely left her mouth. “Please…”

She had endured so much, too much and for too long. Her back was flayed open, nerves screaming. Her limbs trembled, not from fear, but from the way her body fought to keep going when her will was nearly gone. Her thoughts blurred at the edges, flickering between past and dream. Between torment and numbness.

In the silence that followed her whispered plea, something shimmered in the corner of her failing vision. A figure, blonde-haired and tall. For a heartbeat, Liandrin thought she had imagined it. A mercy from her mind before it shattered. But then Nesta’s voice pierced through the dark.

Nesta’s body surged to life, her fury erupting like a storm. Her feet slammed into the stone, as she rushed forward. The world twisted in protest, but she didn’t care. Her body crackled with energy, not channeling, just cold rage. “Get your hands off her!” she screamed.

Liandrin’s head lifted just slightly. Her cheek pressed to the cold stone as she blinked through the haze of agony. And there was Nesta, a vision of light in a place built of nightmares.  

The man turned just in time to take Nesta’s fist to his face. Her knuckles connected with a sickening crunch. He staggered back, but there was no resistance beyond that. The moment he fell away, his presence dissolving into nothingness, the air began to warp. The dream fractured, crumbling like glass.

The shadows peeled away, as if the very fabric of the nightmare was tearing apart. The stone walls twisted and bent, crackling under unseen pressure. The harsh, cold corridor shattered in jagged lines, the colors draining from the world, leaving everything in shades of gray.

Nesta dropped to her knees beside Liandrin, her hands trembling as she reached for her. “Lia, I’m here.” she whispered, her voice breaking “I’ve got you.”

Liandrin blinked up at her, her eyes cloudy and unfocused. Her expression was too tired to register fear, too spent to fully grasp what was happening. It was as if the agony she’d endured had drained her entirely, leaving only the hollow shell of a woman who had given up long ago. Her lips parted, barely able to form words.

It was in that moment that Nesta realized how much Liandrin had suffered, how long she had been carrying this weight of the haunted past. The burning wrath inside her blazed hotter, threatening to consume her entirely. She wanted to shout, to tear apart every person who had ever hurt the woman she loved.

The dream continued to collapse around them, the colors fading even further until the walls seemed to disintegrate. The ground beneath them trembled, but Nesta didn’t care. She wasn’t leaving. She would never leave her like this. She swallowed thickly, trying to steady her breath, her hands trembling as they traced over Liandrin’s skin, brushing away the blood and the remnants of the nightmare.

Liandrin’s eyelids fluttered closed for a moment, and her chest rose and fell with shallow, broken breaths "Nesta...” she whispered, her voice barely audible, thick with emotion.

She reached up with trembling fingers, her hand brushing against Nesta’s cheek in a gesture so tender it made Nesta’s heart ache. "You saved me."

Nesta swallowed the lump in her throat, leaning forward to press her forehead gently against Liandrin’s. "I’ll always save you." Nesta whispered, "I promise."

The last of the nightmare faded completely, leaving them in stillness. The dream was gone, but the warmth of Nesta’s presence and the tenderness of their connection remained.

-

Liandrin’s eyelids fluttered, the heavy, lingering tension in her muscles beginning to release as she stirred from the remnants of the nightmare. Her breath was slow, unsteady at first, as if she were still tethered to the horrors she had just experienced. The air was soft, the room quiet, and for a moment, she simply lay there, disoriented.

Then she felt the warmth beside her. She didn’t need to open her eyes to know Nesta was there. She could feel her, the way Nesta’s breath was soft and steady.

Without thinking, Liandrin reached out, her arms trembling as they found Nesta’s body, pulling her closer as if trying to anchor herself to something real. Her face buried against the girl's chest, seeking the comforting heat, the reassuring touch that had been there when she had needed it most. She inhaled deeply, the scent of her lover filling her senses.

Liandrin’s voice, quiet and hoarse from sleep, murmured against the Nesta's sleeping body, "I love you so much." Her words muffled but full of honesty. "I don’t know what I would do without you now."

[nestadevries]

Chapter 12 | Flames In The Shadow

Notes: "I knew Liandrin's voice changed when she was under pressure. She'd sort of taken on this tiny voice, as it were, in the Tower to prove to people that she was just as good as Moiraine. But I knew that she had this peccadillo, or this sort of vulnerability, that when she was under pressure or angry, she would revert back to her rougher roots." - Kate Fleetwood - around 6k words

The morning light crept in through the thin curtains, painting pale gold across the sheets. The room was still. Nesta lay on her back, one hand tangled in Liandrin’s soft hair, the other resting gently along the curve of her spine. Liandrin’s body was draped across her, head tucked just beneath the girl’s collarbone.

Nesta’s eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, but her mind was full of the image from yesterday. Liandrin, beaten and bloodied, barely able to walk. That hollow look in her eyes. The bruises, the pain. All of it carved into Nesta’s memory like a scar.

She could feel the way Liandrin clung to her now, not desperately, but vulnerably, like someone who had finally allowed herself to rest. Her fingers traced slow, unconscious patterns along Nesta’s ribs. She hadn’t said a word since the night.

Then, quietly, Liandrin spoke, her voice a faint murmur muffled by Nesta’s skin. “There was another with me. She died the moment the fight started. I barely had time to react.”

Nesta’s hand stilled in her hair, fingers curling slightly. “They sent you into that alone?” Her voice cracked, a thread of disbelief and fury running through it.

“I think they wanted me to fail.” Liandrin lifted her head just enough to rest her chin on Nesta’s chest. Her blue eyes were tired but clear.

The words sat between them with heaviness. Nesta didn’t speak at first. Her hands flexing as if she wanted to grab hold of something, anything to stop the anger rising inside her.

“You don’t send two people on a mission like that, not unless you want them both dead.” Nesta said finally, her voice low and rough.

Liandrin gave a weak laugh, more a breath than a sound. “Well, they got halfway there.”

“No.” Nesta said fiercely. She cupped Liandrin’s cheek, the one that was no longer swollen thanks to her healing. “You came back. You survived. And you’re not going anywhere.”

Liandrin blinked hard, her lashes damp. Her hand moved up slowly, hesitantly, until it rested over Nesta’s heart. She felt it beating, strong and steady beneath her palm. The warmth of Nesta’s skin, the rhythm beneath it felt like an anchor in a sea that had nearly swallowed her whole.

She opened her mouth to speak. A breath escaped her lips, but the words tangled somewhere between her ribs and throat. She swallowed, trying to hold herself together. Her lips trembled.

Nesta tilted her head to look at her, her gaze soft but intent. “What is it?” she asked, her voice barely louder than the hush in the room.

Liandrin’s eyes searched hers, as if looking for a sign that it was safe to be honest. And when she found it, when she saw nothing but open, fierce care in Nesta’s expression, she finally let the words fall. “You’re the only one, who ever looked at me like I mattered.” she said.

The words cracked in the middle, like they’d been buried too long beneath the duty and the sharp edge of survival. There was no mask in her voice. Just the simple, devastating truth, laid bare in the morning light.

All the fights, all the tension, all the walls they’d torn down between them. It had all led to this moment. This tragic, undenying truth from a woman who had spent a lifetime building herself into someone untouchable. 

Nesta reached up and cupped the side of Liandrin’s face, her thumb brushing gently beneath her eye where a tear had begun to form. Her voice was steady, but thick with feeling. “You do matter. I love you, Lia.” she said softly.

The Aes Sedai didn’t respond right away. Her eyes closed beneath Nesta’s touch, and for a moment she just breathed, slow and careful, as though each breath might shatter the fragile stillness between them. Nesta’s thumb was still at her cheek, soft and steady with a quiet kind of devotion that made everything in Liandrin’s chest ache.

Her hand remained over Nesta’s heart. Feeling it, letting it guide her and then she moved.

It wasn’t a rushed thing, or impulsive. She lifted her head just enough that their eyes met again. Her hand slid up along Nesta’s collarbone, until she cradled Nesta’s cheek and then, with a breathless kind of reverence, she leaned in.

Her lips brushed Nesta’s, tentative at first, soft and searching, but when Nesta tilted her head and pressed back with the same quiet intensity, Liandrin deepened it.

Their mouths moved slowly together, like they had all the time in the world. There was no heat in it, not now. No hunger, just tenderness. The kind that came only after the walls had fallen and the truth had been spoken. It was a kiss of solace, of promise, of gratitude.

Liandrin made a soft sound, nearly a whimper, and Nesta’s hand slid into her hair, fingers tangling in those golden strands with the same devoted care she always gave her. She held her like she meant it. Like she always would.

When they finally pulled apart, it was only by a breath. Their noses touched. Their foreheads rested together, and Liandrin kept her eyes closed, savoring the stillness.

Nesta was the one to break the silence, her voice low and determined. “Let me heal you more.” she said gently.

Liandrin blinked, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze.

“No.” she said quietly, but there was no force behind it. “You nearly collapsed yesterday. I won’t watch you hurt yourself again.”

But Nesta’s jaw tightened. She wasn’t angry, just stubborn, and impossibly full of love.

“I can handle it. You don’t have to carry this pain any longer, Lia.”

Liandrin saw it before she felt the quiet shimmer of the One Power beginning to rise around Nesta like a halo. The light bathed her skin in something soft and sacred, and her eyes, already so full of fire and fury, glowed now with something purer. Determination. Devotion.

Nesta’s hands hovered just above Liandrin’s ribs, not touching yet, waiting for the threads of the One Power to knit themselves into something useful, something healing.

Liandrin tensed on top of her, already preparing to argue again. “Nesta...”

“Hush.” The girl glanced at her, a flash of teasing warmth beneath the steel of her tone. “Let me take care of you.”

The weave descended. It was gentler than before, far more controlled. Nesta had clearly learned from yesterday. Not to push so hard all at once, to let the Power do its work at a pace she could manage. Still, the effort cost her. Liandrin could see it in the way her shoulders hunched slightly, in the beads of sweat already forming at her brow.

The older woman bit her tongue, letting Nesta work. And it hurt to see her so wrung out, so clearly struggling, and yet still giving so freely. Still choosing her.

Then, as Nesta leaned closer to adjust the flow of the weave around Liandrin’s side, her collar shifted slightly. The neckline of her sleep shirt dipped just enough to reveal the bruising.

Liandrin’s breath caught. Purple and dark, almost finger-shaped, wrapping around the side of her throat.

“Wait, what is that?” Liandrin said sharply, reaching up and catching Nesta’s wrist.

Nesta stilled. For a heartbeat, the glow of the Power faltered.

“What is what?” she asked, too quickly.

Liandrin sat up with effort, wincing as the healing settled into her bones. She reached for Nesta’s shirt and gently brushed the collar aside, revealing the bruises in full.

“Nesta, who did that to you?” Her voice was low now, dangerous in a different way.

Nesta’s eyes darted to the side, evasive. “It’s nothing. I must’ve hit something in my sleep.”

“You don’t bruise like that from a pillow.” Liandrin snapped, though the edge in her tone wasn’t anger. It was fear.

The younger woman swallowed hard. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important right now.”

Liandrin stiffened, the pain in her side forgotten for the moment. Her voice dropped, raw with quiet fury. “The hell it isn’t.”

Nesta flinched slightly. She didn’t speak right away, didn’t try to explain. Instead, she did the one thing that might cut through all of it.

She reached for Liandrin’s hand.

Their fingers met in the quiet space between them, and Nesta squeezed it tightly. Her hand was warm despite the trembling beneath her skin, and Liandrin felt the message more clearly than any words: I’m still here. I’m not falling apart.

“I promise I’ll tell you.” Nesta said quietly, her voice laced with exhaustion, but not fear. “Just not now.”

The look in her blue eyes held a storm barely contained. Shadows of something deeper flickered behind them. Pain, confusion, something else Liandrin couldn’t yet name. But even in her weariness, Nesta didn’t pull away.

Liandrin studied her, her sharp features softening despite themselves. She wanted to press, to demand answers. She deserved answers. But the fragile peace between them, the delicate closeness they’d carved out in the aftermath of pain felt like glass. And she wasn’t ready to shatter it.

“I’ll hold you to that.” she said at last, her voice quieter now, gentler, but still firm.

Nesta gave her a tired smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know.”

Liandrin leaned back, letting Nesta finish the healing. Letting herself trust her. But the image of those bruises burned in her mind. She let it go for now. But the silence did nothing to quiet the storm building inside her. In the back of her mind, a vow ignited and burned. Whoever had touched Nesta, whoever had hurt her, would answer for it. It didn’t matter how strong they were, how hidden in shadows, Liandrin would find them. She would make them regret the moment they laid a hand on what was hers.

-

Liandrin stood tall, despite the bruises and exhaustion that weighed heavily on her body. The cool stone walls of the White Tower seemed colder than usual today. She was used to being scrutinized, used to the games the Aes Sedai played, but this felt different. This time, it wasn’t just about power or influence, it was personal.

Siaun sat at the head of the small, dimly lit chamber, her eyes narrowed, calculating. Her gaze flicked briefly to Leane, who was standing off to the side.

Liandrin resisted the urge to cross her arms in front of her chest, a shield that might show vulnerability. Instead, she stood tall, her posture straight, betraying none of the tension that twisted inside her.

Leane’s voice cut through the silence, sharp as ever. “So, Liandrin Sedai, tell us again what happened on your mission.”

The Red Sister didn’t flinch. Her voice was calm, controlled, a practiced neutrality that had saved her more than once. “I was sent because of the rumors of a man channeling in that area. I was supposed to investigate and gather information about him. But when we arrived, we were ambushed by Trollocs. My companion Joline Sedai and her warder didn’t survive the attack. And I wasn’t able to retrieve any information about the man.”

Leane’s lips curled into something between a frown and a smirk. “That’s an interesting assessment. You’re telling me that you, an experienced Aes Sedai, failed because of Trollocs? You seriously expect us to believe that?”

Liandrin’s hands curled into fists at her sides, though she kept her composure. “I’m telling you the truth. The situation was beyond my control. There were too many of them, and we were completely unprepared for an assault of that scale. We didn’t have time to gather any useful intelligence before the ambush.”

Siuan’s voice broke through the tension. “So you’re blaming Trollocs for the failure of your mission, Daughter?”

She wanted to snap, to say something cutting, but she bit it back. Instead, she spoke slowly, each word measured. “I’m blaming the fact that I was sent into an area overrun with Trollocs, with no backup, no support. You’re asking why I failed, but the question is, why was I sent there alone to begin with?”

Liandrin’s eyes flickered to Leane, who had a subtle gleam in her eyes, that she was enjoying this. The White Tower’s politics were all about finding weakness, exposing cracks, and Liandrin was a target today. She knew it.

“I did what I could.” Liandrin said flatly, keeping her voice even. 

Siuan leaned forward, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the table in front of her. “And yet, this is not the first time you’ve come back empty-handed, Liandrin. Tell me, how many more failures can the Tower afford? You’re becoming a liability.”

The insult stung, but she didn’t show it. She knew the game. They wanted to break her, to test her loyalty, to see if she would crack under pressure. But she wasn’t going to let them see that.

Instead, she held Siuan’s gaze, unwavering. “I am not a liability. If the mission failed, it was not because of my actions. I did everything I could, but you sent me into a situation where survival was a struggle. The ambush was not something I could have predicted.”

Siuan’s brow furrowed. “Are you implying that the White Tower deliberately sent you into a dangerous situation?”

Liandrin felt a surge of frustration, but she kept it in check, letting her words hang in the air. “I’m not implying anything. I’m stating facts. The mission was compromised from the moment I set foot in that area. Trollocs were everywhere, and I was sent in with only one Sister, and no backup. It wasn’t a mission that could be completed by anyone, much less someone sent with the expectation to succeed without resources.”

“We’ll have to take this into consideration.” Siuan said, her tone colder than before. “But there’s more. We’ve received word that Nesta’s trial has been moved up. It’s scheduled for two days from now.”

Liandrin’s stomach twisted at the mention of Nesta. The news felt like another blow, another piece of the Tower’s cold manipulation. She wanted to rage against all of them, to destroy everything they stood for. But she couldn’t, not yet.

She simply nodded, masking her anger and frustration.

-

Liandrin returned to her quarters and the anger that had been bubbling within her since the questioning now seemed to reach a boiling point. She felt the weight of the White Tower’s indifference pressing down on her. She had been sent on a mission based on vague rumors, ambushed by Trollocs, and now she was being blamed for the failure.

Sighing deeply, she sank onto the sofa, her hands gripping the cushions as if they could somehow absorb the frustration and bitterness she felt. The entire situation felt as if the Tower had already decided her fate before she even set foot on the mission. The questioning, the lack of support, the casual way they dismissed her. Everything about it made her sick to her stomach.

Nesta was sitting at the far side of the room, her posture shifting when she saw the anger that was brewing in Liandrin’s expression. She immediately walked over to the sofa, sitting down beside her in silence.

Finally, Liandrin couldn’t hold it in anymore. “It’s always the same, isn’t it? Siuan, Leane, the whole damn Tower. They’re so blinded by their politics and their control, they can’t see what’s right in front of them.” She ground her teeth together, her voice rising. “They send me on a mission that’s practically a death sentence. And when the worst happens, when I’m ambushed by Trollocs and nearly killed, it’s my fault. My failure. They don’t care about what happened to me. They don’t care about the truth. They just care about their damn power and their precious image.”

She paused, the words choking her throat. Her hands shook, her nails digging into the fabric of the sofa as she tried to keep her composure. But she couldn’t. The frustration, the anger, the overwhelming sense of betrayal, it all came pouring out. “They’ll get rid of me. I’m just a pawn to them. They’ll find some excuse, some reason to throw me aside.”

Nesta’s heart hurt to hear her speak like that. Her voice was steady but firm as she spoke. “You are right. They sent you out there to fail.”

Liandrin’s eyes flickered to her, and for a moment, she seemed to shrink, the weight of her own admission settling in her chest. She blinked hard and then slowly met Nesta’s gaze. Her voice softened, becoming quieter but no less fierce. “I know it, but it still hurts. It’s exhausting, being treated like I don’t matter, like I’m nothing more than a tool for them to use.”

The younger woman leaned forward, taking Liandrin’s hand in her own, squeezing it tightly. “You matter to me. You matter more than they’ll ever understand.” she said firmly, her voice full of conviction.

Liandrin could feel the sincerity in Nesta’s words, but then, reality slammed back in as she remembered why she had come here in the first place. She hesitated, her voice lowering as she spoke the next words. “There’s more.” Liandrin let out a long breath, closing her eyes for a moment before continuing, “Your trial has been moved. It’ll happen in two days.”

The air between them seemed to grow heavy with that information. Nesta’s heart skipped a beat at the sudden shift. Her trial, everything was moving so fast. She had expected it, but hearing it from Liandrin made it feel more real, more urgent.

She leaned back slightly, her arms crossed in a composed but subtle attempt to steady herself. Beneath the surface, though, anxiety stirred, but she wouldn’t let it rule her. "Two days, it’s sooner than I thought.” she murmured, her voice steady but carrying a quiet edge of uncertainty.

Nesta kept her gaze fixed on Liandrin, trying not to let the tension creep into her expression. She needed to remain composed, for both of them. But in the back of her mind, there was a need for the trial to be over, so that she could finally move forward. She would join Liandrin’s Ajah, and stand with her. The idea filled her with both anticipation and urgency. She was ready to prove herself, to show them all that she was more than what they assumed.

There was a pause, and then Nesta’s voice softened, her eyes unwavering as she locked with Liandrin’s. "It’ll be over soon enough." she said, a quiet confidence in her words. "And I’ll be ready. I can handle it, Lia. I’m strong enough."

Liandrin didn’t answer right away, but Nesta could see the way her expression shifted, as though she needed to hear those words, even if she didn’t fully understand why.

Nesta leaned in slightly, her tone serious yet warm. "You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll fight for my place in the Tower. And for you." Her eyes softened, and she reached out, gently placing a hand over Liandrin’s again. "You’ve been through enough. I want to support you. Whatever comes, I’m with you."

There was something so fierce, so absolute in the way she spoke, that it seemed to fill the space between them. Liandrin’s gaze softened as she stared back at Nesta, and for a moment, it was like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

Liandrin swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t deserve your loyalty. But I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you’re with me."

Nesta squeezed her hand, the warmth of her touch offering a quiet reassurance. "You do deserve it and I’m not going anywhere." she replied firmly.

"Then, I guess we’ll take it one step at a time." Liandrin said, a small but genuine smile flickering at the edges of her lips.

Nesta smiled back, her heart feeling lighter. "One step at a time" she agreed, her gaze steady, determined.

The words still lingered in the air, a reminder of the bond they shared, a bond that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Even though everything around them was shifting, changing, they had each other.

-

Nesta watched as Liandrin slowly made her way to bed, the older woman’s movements stiff from exhaustion.

As Liandrin lay there, her eyes heavy with unspoken thoughts. She had been through so much, physically, mentally, yet here she was, trusting Nesta enough to let her in, to lean on her when she was falling apart. And it was almost too much for her, in a way she hadn’t anticipated. She wasn’t used to being cared for, being held without expectations.

Nesta sensed her unease, even if Liandrin didn’t voice it. She wanted to offer more comfort, but she also didn’t want to overstep.

“You’ve been through a lot today. And I am not going to mention the last two days.” Nesta said gently, her tone light but with underlying sincerity. “You’ve done more than enough. Let me take care of you for a bit.”

Liandrin’s eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to, trust me.” Nesta replied with a softness that made Liandrin pause.

It was that word, trust, that made Liandrin hesitate for just a moment. She had trusted Nesta with things she’d never shared with anyone before, things she had hidden for years. And yet, the thought of surrendering to someone else’s care was unfamiliar, even now. But she found herself nodding, the quiet vulnerability between them urging her to lean into this unexpected closeness.

Nesta shifted slightly, sitting closer to the edge of the bed.

“Alright, but no tricks.” Liandrin said.

The girl's hands, warm and steady, began to massage Liandrin’s feet. The gentle pressure of her fingers kneaded the sore muscles, working out the tension that had built up during the mission. Liandrin sighed, the relief instant, her eyes fluttering closed as she allowed herself to unwind under Nesta’s touch.

“I know you carry the weight of your past, but you don’t have to keep it all inside. Not with me.” Nesta started, eyes searching Liandrin’s face.

Liandrin’s breath hitched at the unexpected kindness. It was hard to let her walls down completely, but something in Nesta’s words softened the grip of her defenses. Her gaze flickered to the ceiling for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"I’m not used to being weak.” Liandrin confessed quietly. “In the Tower, I always have to wear a mask. From the early beginning I had to be what they wanted me to be. Cold and calculating. Never letting anyone see the cracks.”

Nesta’s hands paused, fingers lightly tracing the arch of Liandrin’s foot. “It’s okay to let the cracks show. We’re all broken in some way and that doesn’t make you weak.”

Liandrin exhaled softly, glancing at Nesta. “You make it sound so simple. I’ve spent so long convincing myself that being strong meant holding everything inside. But it’s exhausting. I’ve pushed people away for so long.” Her voice trailed off, the confession hanging in the air. She didn’t need to finish. Nesta understood.

“You don’t have to push me away.” Nesta said quietly, as she pressed down gently on the heel, adding a bit more pressure.

Liandrin inhaled deeply, her chest rising as the soothing massage seemed to unlock something inside her. The pain from her injuries wasn’t gone, but the weight on her heart, the heaviness of her mind, seemed to lift with each touch. “You know about my reputation, all the rumors... And yet, you still care for me.”

Nesta’s hands moved rhythmically, slow and sure, her touch firm yet comforting. “I don’t just care for you, Lia. I see you, the real you. Not the version the Tower forced you to become. But the one who’s still capable of love and kindness. The one who’s been hurt so many times but keeps fighting.” 

Liandrin’s heart thudded in her chest at the rawness of Nesta’s words. No one had ever looked at her that way, seen the real her without judgment or pity. There was no shame in Nesta’s gaze, no fear of what Liandrin might say or do. Just acceptance.

With a soft sigh, Liandrin let her head sink back into the pillow, the weight of the world slipping away. The ache in her body faded beneath the steady, soothing rhythm of Nesta’s hands. “You make it so hard to keep my walls up.” she muttered, a wry smile pulling at her lips.

Nesta chuckled softly, “Good, I’m not here to let you hide.” 

She continued her work, her thumbs pressing in slow, deliberate circles into the arches of Liandrin’s feet, coaxing tension from muscle and bone with practiced ease. Her fingers moved with purpose, firm where they needed to be, gentle where the skin was tender, as if she felt Liandrin’s body better than her own.

Liandrin exhaled slowly. It wasn’t just the physical relief, but the emotional release that came with Nesta’s words. And finally she smiled, a true, genuine smile.

“Thank you, Lioness.” she whispered, her voice quiet, but laden with more emotion than she expected to find. She wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or relief, but those two words were more than just gratitude.

Nesta’s hands slowed, her fingers trailing lightly over Liandrin’s feet as she looked at her. “You don’t have to thank me. We’re in this together. And that’s all that matters.” 

Liandrin’s smile deepened. "I never thought anyone would see through me." she murmured, the weight of her isolation creeping into voice.

Nesta didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. “I see you, Lia.” she whispered, her voice so steady, it felt like a vow. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Liandrin’s fingers trailing over her own arms as she reflected. The weight of the world seemed lighter now, but the vulnerability in the air remained. She let out a deep breath, then spoke, "When I first came to the Tower, it wasn’t easy. Even though I was talented, I was treated with disdain. There were whispers about my origins. They looked down on me for where I came from, for my accent..." She shook her head, the weight of that past still lingering. "They made me feel small. And my accent? I couldn’t even speak properly according to their standards. They mocked it, like I was some ignorant country girl who didn’t belong."

Her eyes flickered down, a shadow of old hurt flashing across her features. "I learned to change it. To sound like them, to be like them. But it didn’t change how they looked at me, how they treated me like a fool." Her lips tightened for a moment, the walls she had built coming into sharper focus in her mind. "I had to fight for every ounce of respect I earned. They saw me as nothing more than a tool. All the time, I had to show and prove them that I was worth something."

She glanced at Nesta then, her gaze softening, almost as though she was trying to gauge whether the younger woman would understand.

Nesta was listening, absorbing them. Slowly, she let go of Liandrin’s feet. The weight of her own memories settled heavily on her shoulders, but for the first time, she felt it was safe to talk about them.

"I think, I know what you mean." She swallowed hard, letting her gaze settle on Liandrin’s. "I wasn’t born into power, either. I grew up in Caemlyn, with a father who believed in me, and a mother who pushed me to be strong. She was tough on me, always reminding me that I had to rely on myself. I thought I could handle anything." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "But when I first arrived at the Tower, I immediately knew that I didn’t belong. Not in the same way they did. I wasn’t noble, I wasn’t polished. I was just a problem they had to fix."

Her voice quiet at first, but steady as she continued, "I tried to prove myself. But I was always the outsider. They saw me as reckless, chaotic, a wild card. Even when I was right, it didn’t matter. They treated me like I was too much trouble."

The older woman’s gaze softened, and she shifted slightly, "It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to be something, but constantly being told that you don’t fit the mold." Her eyes flickered over to Nesta, studying her. "But you did prove yourself. And you're still proving yourself. You’ve got more fire in you than they could ever handle."

"I still struggle with it." she admitted. "With my power, with who I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’m truly in control of it. Like I’m good enough."

"I’ve seen you. I know what you’re capable of. You’ll get there, in your own time." Liandrin said softly.

Nesta’s chest tightened. It felt strange to admit such vulnerability aloud, but it also felt freeing.

"There was one moment." she began, her voice growing more steady, more sure of herself, "The first time, I channeled… it happened because I was attacked by a man." Her breath hitched as the memory flashed across her mind, but she pushed it down, forced herself to continue. "I killed him with the Power... without any hesitation. I didn’t even think, it just happened. And afterward, I realized what I had done. What I was capable of and the worst part is… I still don’t know the limits of that darkness."

Liandrin’s gaze sharpened, and her expression softened, her voice gentle as she spoke. "You’ve been through a lot more than anyone knows, but you’re still here. Still standing. You’ve got more strength in you than you give yourself credit for."

Nesta nodded, her lips pressed together, a fleeting sense of pride swelling in her chest. But then, the doubt crept in again. She was still terrified that one day she wouldn’t be able to control it. "Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to be powerful enough to control it. To control myself."

Liandrin’s gaze never wavered. "You will. But it’s okay to admit when you don’t have all the answers. It’s alright to be uncertain." Her voice softened, "We may have our walls, our defenses, but we’re not so different, you and I."

Nesta smiled slightly. "I guess you are right as always."

Liandrin’s smirk grew, and she leaned back against the pillow, her tone turning playful again. "Well, someone has to keep you in line, Lioness.” She winked, her voice light and teasing, the weight of their earlier conversation fading just a little, replaced by the familiar spark between them.

In that moment, they both understood. Both of them had built walls to protect themselves from the world, from the Tower, from their own fears and doubts. But here, together, those walls didn’t need to be so high.

-

Moonlight poured down like silver rain, casting an ethereal glow over the endless glass garden. The air shimmered with magic, still and thick with the scent of roses, that surrounded Nesta in every direction. They bloomed in impossible colors, purple, black, crimson, white. Each one pristine, regal, and burning.

The flames curled around the petals in slow, elegant spirals. Nothing crumbled. Nothing turned to ash. The fire was not consuming, but possessing, dancing lazily along the flowers as if marking them.

Nesta stood barefoot on the cool mirrored ground, her reflection shining up at her. A flowing black and silver garment clung to her form with the same razor-sharp elegance Lanfear herself favored.

The garden was too beautiful. Unnaturally so every rose in perfect bloom, every petal unmarred by wind or time, even as fire danced across them. The mirrored floor reflected the stars overhead, creating the illusion that she was walking through the sky itself. It was the kind of place that should have inspired awe, maybe even peace.

But instead, it made her chest tight. There was something wrong beneath the beauty. Something that prickled at the edges of her awareness, like a whisper just out of hearing. The flames didn’t crackle. The silence was too heavy, too expectant, like the whole world was holding its breath.

A breeze whispered through the roses, and from behind a wall of burning blooms, Lanfear stepped into view. Her silver robes floated around her like mist, untouched by the fire licking at her hem. The moonlight caught in the dark strands of her hair and the cold steel in her eyes. She walked slowly, like a goddess, her gaze fixed entirely on Nesta.

“You always end up in the prettiest places, even in your nightmares.” Lanfear said softly, her voice almost fond.

“This doesn’t feel like a nightmare.”

“Not yet.” Lanfear agreed, circling her.

She moved with slow precision, hands folded behind her back. “But it will be. Because that’s what you expect. Isn’t it?”

Nesta didn’t answer.

She tilted her head. “You believe beauty must always come with pain.”

Nesta's throat tightened, but she kept her chin high. The firelight flickered against the silver of her costume, its regal design suddenly feeling too heavy, like it was stitched together with every expectation, every whisper of doubt that had ever followed her. The roses burned around her, casting glowing reflections across her skin, as if trying to consume her from the outside in.

Lanfear was right. She did expect pain, she braced for it. Welcomed it, because anything good, anything beautiful, had always been temporary in her life. And it never came without cost.

So she said nothing. But her silence spoke loud enough.

Lanfear’s voice dropped to a murmur. “You could change that. You could learn to control it. All of it. The pain. The power. The fear. You’ve been offered scraps, discipline, obedience, silence. I offer truth. Mastery.”

Nesta’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, defiance flickering beneath the uncertainty. Her jaw clenched, fists curling at her sides as though she could ground herself with nothing but raw will. But her heart was hammering from the temptation.

The Forsaken reached out, fingers brushing along Nesta’s cheekbone, light as a breeze, cold as starlight. A touch meant not just to comfort or provoke, but to claim. The gesture was deliberate, almost reverent, like a queen marking what was hers.

“Say the word and I’ll give it all to you.” she whispered, her breath a ghost against Nesta’s lips.

“You don’t scare me.” The girl's heart thundered, but her voice was steady. 

Lanfear smiled. “You should be terrified.”

Her tone was laced with wicked pleasure, like she relished Nesta’s stubbornness even as she prepared to break it. Her bright eyes glinted with something ancient and bottomless. “You’re standing in my world.” she said silkily. “Breathing my air, dressed like me. You think you’re resisting, but you’ve already stepped into the game. I can feel it.”

Nesta stepped back, spine rigid, defiant. “You’re just another cruel, desperate woman who didn’t get what she wanted. You wear power like a crown, but all I see is someone trying too hard to prove she’s not broken.”

That smile vanished. Lanfear’s eyes turned sharp, glassy with offense, rage, and hurt. For the briefest moment, her composure cracked.

Then the world shifted like a string had been pulled too tight and finally snapped. The roses around them flared, their flames burning white-hot, and the air thickened with tension, suffocating and electric.

In a flash, Lanfear’s hand lifted and power surged around Nesta’s body. Invisible cords snapped tight around her wrists and ankles, yanking her limbs outward. She was pulled off her feet and dragged back, her body spread in the air in a star-shaped position, bound to a crystalline post rising from the mirrored ground. It gleamed like moonstone, perfect, cold, and utterly inescapable.

Nesta’s breath caught as the bindings tightened. She struggled but it was useless.

The Forsaken approached slowly, her heels silent on the glass floor. The roses continued to burn around them, the flames casting sharp shadows across Nesta’s face. Her hand slid along Nesta’s jaw, then down to her throat. Not choking, just holding. Her fingers rested lightly over the pulse there. “So stubborn, so wild.” she said. “I could break you like glass. But I don’t want to break you. I want to reforge you.”

She stepped even closer, her breath brushing Nesta’s cheek. “You’re not a victim. You’re a weapon no one taught how to wield. They fear what you could become, but I desire it.”

Nesta snarled. “I’ll never serve you.”

“Not yet.” Lanfear said calmly.

She dragged a nail along the inside of Nesta’s arm, down toward her bound wrist, grazing just deep enough to sting. Her nail traced the veins like she could peel open Nesta’s soul. “Do you feel that?” Lanfear murmured, low and venom-sweet. “All that power inside you? It’s begging to be unshackled. You’re holding it back even now.”

“I control it.” Nesta hissed, her voice raw from restraint, her body trembling against the bindings that spread her out like a ritual sacrifice.

“No.” Lanfear whispered, brushing her lips just behind Nesta’s ear, cold breath dragging over her skin. “You fear it. You fear what you are when no one is watching. When no one is holding your leash.”

The roses around them roared, their flames deepening from orange to violent white, the petals curling into ash as fire consumed beauty. Heat licked at Nesta’s skin, unbearable, and yet she refused to look away. And something inside her snapped. Like a thread yanked too tightly, like a scream long held in the cage of her ribs. Power surged inside her like a tidal wave, wild and furious.

With a crack, one of the bindings shattered, splinters of glowing light searing through the dream. Then another. Nesta screamed, half fury, half freedom, and the garden detonated. Roses ignited all at once in a thunderclap of flame. The ground shook. The moon shattered overhead like glass. A cyclone of fire and force twisted around her, engulfing the garden, devouring the illusion.

Lanfear stumbled back, shielding her face with an arm as the blast tore through the dream. Her gown fluttered in the gale of Power. Her hair whipped around her face. But she wasn’t hurt or afraid. She was smiling widely.

When the firestorm finally ebbed and the dream settled into silence, Nesta stood alone in the smoldering ruins, her hair wild, wrists freed, arms trembling from the aftermath.

The Forsaken straightened slowly from the shadows. Her voice was quiet, but sharp as a blade “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Ash rained down like snowflakes, soft and glowing, settling across the scorched garden in delicate contrast to the ruin left behind. The roses were gone. Only smoldering stems remained, blackened and twisted. Nesta didn’t know if the fire had come from within or if she’d merely unleashed something already buried deep. 

A soft laugh echoed through the smoke. “Remarkable.” Lanfear purred, eyes devouring Nesta from head to toe. “You shattered the dreamscape.”

She looked so pleased, stopping just short of touching Nesta again. But close enough that the girl could feel the cool, electric radiance of her presence. “You don’t understand what you’ve just done, do you?”

Nesta’s hands trembled, the tiniest shiver running through her fingers, her heart beat too fast, too loud, but her eyes stayed locked on the woman before her, refusing to show fear even as it coiled deep in her gut.

Lanfear tilted her head, a slow smile creeping across her lips. “Not many would dare defy me in my own dominion. Fewer still would survive it.”

She took a step closer, lowering her voice. “They tell you to fear your power. To cage it. To submit. But you were glorious just now, Nesta.” Her eyes darkened. “And glory should never be tamed.”

Nesta forced herself to hold that gaze. Her heart pounded, but her spine stayed straight. “You’re wasting your breath, Lanfear.” she snapped. “I’d rather burn everything than be yours.”

There was a pause, so brief it could’ve been mistaken for silence. Then Lanfear laughed, low and velvety, the sound curling like smoke around Nesta’s senses. It wasn’t cruel, not exactly. It was amused, delighted by Nesta’s defiance.

“Oh, girl, that’s what I love about you.” she breathed, stepping back at last. Her eyes shimmered with something darker than satisfaction. Hunger. Fascination. Obsession. It was the look of someone who had found a riddle she couldn’t wait to unravel.

“You fight like fire, and I’ve always had a fondness for things that burn.”

Lanfear trailed her fingers through the smoky air, each movement languid and deliberate, as if conducting the slow death of the dream itself. Around them, the broken glass garden began to ripple, trembling beneath some unseen pressure.

“You’ll call for me eventually.” she said, her back now to Nesta.

Nesta wanted to reject her. To tell herself it would never happen, that she wouldn’t fall for this. But a gnawing part of her, deep down, couldn’t shake the truth. She wasn’t entirely sure whether it was fear or curiosity. A part of her recognized Lanfear’s power and wondered what it would feel like to surrender to it, to release the control she gripped so tightly in her life.

At last, the Forsaken turned her head slightly, just enough for Nesta to see the sly curve of her mouth. “And when that moment comes, I’ll be waiting.”

Then, without another word, she dissolved into shadow and wind, leaving only the scent of roses and smoke in her wake.

[nestadevries]

Chapter 11 | Breaking Point

Notes: As promised, here comes the comfort. - around 5k words

The night had passed in restless silence. Nesta hadn’t slept, not truly. Her body was weary, but her mind kept replaying every moment of the last day. When the first light of dawn crept through the windows, she was already dressed, already outside, moving through the motions of her training.

By mid-morning, her limbs ached from the strain, sweat clinging to her skin. But still, she pushed herself until her muscles trembled and her breath came ragged. Only then she returned to her room. She stripped off her training clothes, washed her face, and finally collapsed into bed, hoping for sleep to take her.

The dream began like so many others. She was standing alone, though she didn’t remember how she got there. The world around her was dark, endless, and stretched like black silk in all directions. A sky without stars. The floor beneath her bare feet shimmered like onyx glass.

She was no longer wearing her simple training outfit. Her clothes were elegant, regal and a bit seductive. A high-collared black dress clung to her form like it had been woven for her body alone, with silver embroidery that twisted like serpents around her arms and down her sides. Her hair was braided in an intricate crown, the strands laced with threads of starlight. It was magnificent, but it wasn’t hers.

It was the Forsaken’s style.

Nesta’s heart began to race, as a soft clicking of heels echoed across the glass. She didn’t need to turn. She felt it, she felt her presence.

Lanfear appeared like a specter from the shadows, tall and graceful, as ethereal as she was terrifying. Her gown shimmered with the same starlit darkness, hugging every line of her body like liquid night. Her silver eyes gleamed with amusement.

“My, my.” Lanfear purred, circling Nesta like a wolf stalking prey. “You wear it well. Tell me, did you dream of this? Or did your heart simply betray you?”

“I didn’t choose this.”

“No, but part of you wanted it.” Lanfear mused, her voice a silk-wrapped dagger.

“I don’t want your power.” Nesta snapped, but her voice shook slightly.

Lanfear stepped closer, her hand lifting, just a finger running lightly down Nesta’s cheek. “You want Liandrin, don’t you?” Her lips curved into a venomous smile. “Poor little Aes Sedai. Always so proud, so fragile. She’s your weakness, you know.”

Nesta’s breath caught.

“She makes you soft.” Lanfear hissed, her tone twisting into something darker. “You could be so much more without her weighing you down.”

“Stop it.” Nesta said, voice low but firm.

“She would die for you.” Lanfear whispered, stepping close enough that her breath grazed Nesta’s skin. “But she will never match you. You’ll outgrow her. You’ll break her. Or worse, she’ll break you.”

The words pierced like ice through her chest. Nesta tried to step back, but Lanfear grabbed her wrist.

And suddenly, the hand was at her throat.

The girl gasped as Lanfear’s fingers tightened, her grip unnaturally strong, lifting her slightly off the glass floor. “You’re still so weak.” Lanfear said coldly. “Even now, you fear what you could become.”

Nesta’s fingers dug into Lanfear’s wrist, the heat of panic and fury crashing into her bloodstream. Her vision blurred. But she reached for the Power, willed it into her hands and with a desperate cry, she shoved it outward.

A violent burst of light exploded from her palms, the air shattering around them.

Lanfear was thrown back, her body dissolving into smoke and shadows, and Nesta crashed back into the floor, panting, shaking.

And then she woke. Quickly, she bolted upright in bed, her breath ragged, a cold sweat covering her skin. Her chest heaved as her hand flew to her neck. But then she felt the ache.

She reached up with trembling fingers, brushing the tender skin. Pain bloomed under her touch. Frowning, she shoved the covers aside and swung her legs off the bed, forcing herself to stand on shaky legs. The floor felt cold under her bare feet as she crossed the room, one step at a time, until she stood before the tall mirror.

When she looked in the mirror her blood ran cold. Faint, dark bruises ringed her throat, finger marks. The shape of a hand.

Not just a dream. Lanfear had touched her. Hurt her and left a mark.

-

The trees blurred together in smears of green and grey as Liandrin staggered forward, her steps uneven, limping heavily on her right leg. Her thigh throbbed where the Trolloc’s axe had bitten deep, warm blood still trickling sluggishly down into her boot. Her ribs ached with each breath, sharp and jagged like broken glass inside her chest. Every time her foot struck the ground, it sent a shudder of agony from her hip to her skull.

And yet she kept moving.

The pain no longer came in sharp bursts, but in heavy waves, dull and suffocating. Her body was fading, every limb cold, every muscle trembling. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking. Time had dissolved, lost somewhere in the fog and pain. She fell once, then twice. The third time, she didn’t rise for several breaths.

The earth was cool beneath her fingers, the scent of moss and dirt somehow soothing. She lay there, cheek pressed to the ground, eyes closed. She could stay here. Let the darkness take her. No more pain, no more weight pressing down on her spine, her chest, her spirit.

But a memory pushed through the haze like sunlight cracking through a storm.

Nesta.

The curve of her smile, the way her voice dropped when she said her name. The intensity in her eyes when she challenged Liandrin and refused to back down. Light, even the way she huffed when annoyed, or the flash of irritation in her face when reminded to eat.

“You’re no use to me dead, girl.” Liandrin had said those words once.

But now the echo in her own mind came softer, “You’re no use to her dead.”

A rough sob tore from her throat. She didn’t even get to say goodbye. Liandrin had left too quickly and just left a hastily scribbled note. No touch, no voice, no warning. The thought settled heavy and sharp inside her chest.

She forced her arms under her body and pushed. Agony shot through her ribs. A scream clawed up her throat, but she bit down on it. One hand. Then another. She crawled to her feet, panting hard, sweat and blood soaking her torn shirt.

The White Tower lay somewhere beyond the trees. She imagined her there. Waiting, pacing perhaps, blue eyes narrowed in worry, pretending she wasn’t scared. That stubborn frown on her face that meant she was trying not to care too much.

Liandrin could picture it so clearly, that it hurt. And the pain was good. It kept her from slipping into the dark.

She kept walking. Step by step. One ragged breath after another. Her leg screamed with every motion, and now her left arm had gone numb from the shoulder down, whether from the impact or a cracked bone, she didn’t know.

Her head swam. The sky twisted above her. She couldn’t tell if it was morning or evening anymore, but finally, she saw a glimpse of white through the trees.

She had made it back. She would see her again.

Even if she had to crawl the rest of the way, Liandrin would reach her.

-

The silence in Liandrin’s quarters was suffocating. It pressed in from every side, wrapping itself around Nesta, squeezing her chest tighter with each passing second. Her boots clicked sharply against the stone floor as she paced back and forth, trying to burn off the anxiety coiling in her gut. Her eyes darted to the door every few seconds, as if expecting it to open and for Liandrin to walk through.

But there was nothing.

Nesta’s fingers twitched at her sides, and her mind ran wild with all the possible scenarios she had crafted in the dark corners of her thoughts. What if something happened to her? What if she was hurt or worse? She knew that every mission for the Red Sister was dangerous. She had known that from the start. But not knowing how Liandrin was or when she’d return left her with an aching emptiness.

She pushed her hand through her hair, tugging at the strands in frustration. She had no reason to fear for her. Liandrin was strong, smart and powerful. At least, that’s what she had always shown her.

Her feet stopped in their restless pacing, and for a moment, she simply stood still in the middle of the room, her breath shallow and rapid. She wiped a hand across her forehead, but the sweat remained. Her eyes flicked to the door once more, willing it to open. She felt ridiculous. If she were anyone else, she’d be able to focus on something, anything, to keep her mind occupied. But not now. Not when Liandrin’s absence made the air feel too heavy to breathe.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps outside, soft at first, then louder, shattered the stillness. Nesta froze mid-step. Her breath caught in her throat, ears straining. The Tower halls had been quiet for hours, each creak and whisper a false alarm, but this time it was different. The pace was slow, dragging. Hesitant. It echoed faintly down the corridor like the approach of something wounded.

Then the door creaked open with a groan and Nesta’s heart stopped for a beat.

And there she was, Liandrin.

But she didn’t look like the woman who had left more than twenty-four hours ago with her usual confidence, chin high, spine straight, dangerous. This was not the Liandrin who had whispered orders like they were gospel, who could strike fear with a single look. That version of her was gone.

Her face was bruised, and swollen. Blood stained the edges of her clothes, matted against her skin, there were slashes in the fabric across her ribs, and she leaned heavily against the doorframe, struggling to keep her footing. Her posture was slumped, as if the weight of her own body was too much to bear.

It felt like time stopped.

Nesta’s breath caught in her throat as she saw the blood dripping from Liandrin’s fingers, the way her usually proud and poised figure was now shrouded in exhaustion. She was covered in cuts, the lines of battle etched into her skin. Her clothes were torn, and she was barely standing, swaying, almost as if she might collapse at any moment.

“Lia…” Nesta whispered, the sound of her name coming out breathless, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

The Aes Sedai’s blue eyes flickered, glazed and unfocused, but she nodded, her lips pressing together as if she were trying to hold onto whatever strength she had left. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” she rasped, but the words were weak.

Her hand pressed against the doorframe for support, her body trembling with every strained breath. The usual sharpness in her gaze was gone, replaced with an open vulnerability that shocked Nesta to her core.

For the first time, Liandrin didn’t hide her pain. She didn’t even try to. She was barely standing, her back hunched, and her shoulders slumped with defeat. It was as though she had run out of the strength to keep up the facade.

Nesta’s stomach twisted painfully, her own emotions rising in a chaotic surge of guilt and helplessness. She had been pacing, waiting, unable to help, and now here Liandrin was, barely able to stand. Nesta could see the exhaustion in the set of Liandrin’s shoulders, in the way her legs trembled as she fought to stay upright.

Liandrin's eyes flickered toward Nesta’s face, and there was no arrogance, no pride in them. Just pain and relief. Perhaps even an unspoken plea, as though she was still trying to hold on to the idea that someone might care enough to help her.

Without thinking, Nesta crossed the room in two quick, almost frantic strides. Her breath hitched, her legs felt numb beneath her, but her body moved on instinct. She reached for the older woman with shaking hands, her fingers brushing lightly over the blood staining her arm, the torn fabric clinging to wounds she couldn’t see yet.

“I’ve got you.” Nesta said, her voice cracking. It was barely more than a whisper, a threadbare promise, but she meant it with everything in her. Her hand gripped Liandrin’s waist, the other steadying her elbow, and she guided her carefully, reverently, toward the nearest chair.

Liandrin leaned into her, surrendering more of her weight than she’d intended. Her body was screaming, every step a wave of agony crashing through her chest and hips, each breath sharp like broken glass.

Nesta lowered her gently into the chair, every motion full of care, as though one wrong move might cause her to shatter completely. Without a second thought, she dropped to her knees in front of Liandrin, her hands never left hers. One pressed to her shoulder, the other hovered just over her knee, hesitant, like she didn’t know if she was allowed to stay there. 

Liandrin swallowed hard, her throat dry and raw. She could barely speak, but she couldn’t stop staring at Nesta’s face. Her blonde hair framed her furrowed brow, her eyes burning with so much worry it was nearly unbearable. Her lips were parted in disbelief, like she didn’t know how to take in what she was seeing. But it wasn’t horror in her expression. It wasn’t disgust.

It was care and love.

Liandrin’s chest ached in a new way. Not from bruises or cracked ribs, but from relief. She had made it. Somehow, against all odds, she’d come back. And Nesta was here with her.

The younger woman’s throat bobbed as she swallowed back a sob. She was trying so hard to hold it together, but her hands were trembling. She looked at the blood again, at the ruin Liandrin had become, and she couldn’t stop the surge of guilt that rose in her chest like a tide.

Liandrin blinked slowly, barely keeping her eyes open now. “Nesta…” she whispered, and her voice came out hoarse and ragged. Just the sound of her name, spoken like it meant everything.

“I need to heal you.” Nesta said, breathless, heart pounding. “I know some of the healing weaves. But you’ll have to guide me through the rest.”

Liandrin gave the faintest nod, her eyes glassy with pain, her body trembling with the effort it took to stay upright. “Do it, please.” she murmured.

The word slipped through her like a crack in the armor she’d worn for years. It wasn’t barked like an order or layered in sharp pride. It was soft and vulnerable.

It was the plea that undid Nesta. That single word, from a woman who never asked for help. Who met the world with scorn and steel and expected no mercy in return, has shattered her. She’d heard Liandrin angry, commanding, teasing, even tender, but never like this.

Nesta’s breath caught, her throat tightening as her heart thudded painfully against her ribs. She reached for her instinctively, without hesitation. Whatever strength Liandrin had left, she had given it up in that one quiet surrender.

Without wasting another breath, she reached for the Source. Saidar filled her slowly, golden threads of light and warmth weaving into her bones. Her fingers began to hum with it, alive with potential. But the moment she tried to place her hands on Liandrin’s side, she winced sharply.

Blood stuck to the fabric of her shirt, already soaked through at the ribs and down one thigh. The fabric was clinging too tightly to her injuries, making it impossible to see the full damage.

“I need to get this off you.” Nesta said gently, her voice was soft. “You’re bleeding through everything. I can’t heal you through soaked cloth.”

Liandrin didn’t argue. She just sat there, slumped, eyes flickering with hurt and trust. “Go on.”

Nesta’s hands were trembling again as she reached for the hem of the bloodied shirt, peeling it up as delicately as she could. The fabric stuck to the wounds across Liandrin’s ribs and side, and when it tore away, a low hiss escaped her lips.

The bruising was worse than Nesta had feared, deep purple and black along her ribs, the skin stretched taut over cracked bones. There was a long, shallow slash down her abdomen, crusted with blood, and raw burn marks trailed up from her hip to her shoulder. Her arms were lined with smaller cuts, some fresh and bleeding.

Nesta moved carefully, undoing the rest of the shirt and pushing it off Liandrin’s shoulders. The cloth fell to the floor with a wet sound. Underneath, her skin was a map of agony.

Next were her trousers. Nesta hesitated, glancing up, but Liandrin only gave her another nod, her eyes never leaving Nesta’s face.

She unfastened them slowly, easing them down over Liandrin’s legs. The worst was her thigh, a long gash carved through muscle, just starting to clot. It had soaked the fabric from hip to knee, and Nesta’s stomach twisted as she finally got a full view of it. Bruises ran across her legs in dark patterns.

Nesta leaned in, brushing blood-matted hair from Liandrin’s face with a gentleness that felt sacred. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

Then, she reached out and placed her hands just beneath Liandrin’s ribs, summoning the weave for bone and tissue. The Power surged through her, and she felt it as a warmth in her chest, guided into Liandrin’s skin through her palms. Slowly, she worked, mending bruised muscle, fusing cracks in bone, sealing lacerated flesh one wound at a time.

Liandrin exhaled shakily, her eyes fluttering closed for a breath before opening again, dull with pain but still clear. “Keep breathing. Thread the weave like you would through silk. Never force it.”

But it wasn’t easy. The bruising was deeper than she'd expected. The bones had splintered in places. Some wounds resisted her touch, the flesh stubborn, swollen with trauma. Sweat beaded at Nesta’s brow as she concentrated, her breathing shallow and steady.

The deeper wounds, like the one along her thigh drained Nesta quickly and her fingers started to tremble. But still, she pushed on, whispering soft encouragements under her breath, letting Liandrin feel her presence with every touch.

The woman’s mind was a whirl of sensations, every part of her body throbbing in a way that made it almost impossible to focus. But Nesta’s touch was different. Liandrin hadn’t expected the overwhelming sense of warmth and care that flooded her with every brush of Nesta’s fingers.

She had never been touched like this. Not with such tenderness. Liandrin had always known how to hide her vulnerability, to hide her pain behind a facade of control. But here, now, as Nesta worked tirelessly to heal her, she allowed herself to feel it all. The relief in knowing that someone cared.

When Nesta reached Liandrin's shoulder, her hands hovered for just a moment, assessing the damage. There was an uncomfortable pause, filled with tension that seemed to hang in the air like a delicate thread between them.

“This will sting.” Nesta murmured, her voice soft, but laced with apology.

Liandrin blinked slowly, her eyes barely open. Her body felt like it was on the edge of collapse, but she looked at Nesta with a quiet determination. “I trust you.” she whispered, her voice faint with exhaustion, but there was no fear in it.

Nesta began the weave slowly, her hands careful as she coaxed the skin to repair itself. It was delicate work. She eased away the inflamed tissue, working steadily to close the wound, her hands moving in fluid, practiced motions. The air was thick with the smell of blood but Nesta never flinched. Not once. She wasn’t about to let the stench or the pain stop her. Not when Liandrin trusted her so completely.

Liandrin’s breath hitched at the pain but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t want to. Despite the sting, she welcomed the healing. The pain was nothing compared to the overwhelming warmth of Nesta’s hands, the constant reassurance of her presence.

She wanted to say something, wanted to let Nesta know just how much this moment meant, but her voice was lost somewhere between the raw ache of her body and the gentle hum of the Power. Instead, she closed her eyes, her head leaning back against the chair, allowing herself to surrender to the healing.

Finally, with the major wounds closed, Nesta let out a shaky breath. Her hands were violently trembling now, her legs numb from kneeling for so long. But she wasn’t done. Not yet.

Carefully, she summoned water and a soft cloth from the nearby basin. Dipping it into the cool liquid, she gently began to clean the dried blood from Liandrin’s skin, starting at her neck and moving down her arms, her torso, and her legs. Every wipe was slow, reverent. It was as though each moment of contact, each stroke of the cloth, was a silent promise that she would never take this time, this closeness, for granted again.

But even with the blood slowly being wiped away, there was still the dark bruise under Liandrin’s left eye. The skin around her cheek was swollen, a stark contrast to the otherwise pale, almost ethereal complexion she usually wore.

Nesta reached out again, her hands trembling even more now with fatigue, but also with a deep, consuming need to make it better. She pressed her palm gently against Liandrin's swollen cheek, feeling the heat and the pain radiating beneath her touch.

“I’m going to heal your face.” she murmured, her voice a little more than a whisper.

Liandrin nodded, though she didn’t speak. The action was slow, but it was all the confirmation Nesta needed.

Gently, Nesta summoned the Power once more, focusing on the weave to heal bruising and swelling. She didn’t rush it, as each stroke of the weave was a careful, slow process, working to ease away the pain and swelling that marred Liandrin’s face. She could feel the warmth of the Power in her chest again, pushing it through her hands.

The bruising faded slowly, the deep purple beneath Liandrin's eye lightening to a dull yellow. The swelling reduced, and Liandrin’s features slowly returned to their usual sharp, regal beauty. With every flicker of the weave, the pain seemed to ease. But Nesta could still feel the weight of the exhaustion pressing down on her.

She worked steadily, carefully, and when she was done, she pulled her hands away, her palms still tingling with the aftereffects of the healing. Liandrin’s face was no longer swollen, and the bruise had almost faded.

The Aes Sedai didn’t speak, but she blinked slowly, her glassy blue eyes fixed on Nesta’s face with a depth that Nesta couldn’t quite place. She was utterly still, her breath shallow and slow, but there was a strange peace in her gaze.

It wasn’t just gratitude Nesta saw in those eyes. Liandrin didn’t need to thank her. She didn’t need to say anything at all. It was clear from the silent tears that traced down her cheeks, from the way she allowed herself to be vulnerable in this moment, that she understood what Nesta had given her.

When the girl moved to clean the rest of the blood from her body, the touch was even more tender, more reverent. Each wipe of the cloth was a gesture of care. Liandrin’s skin was slick with dried blood, but Nesta didn’t mind. She didn’t think about how tired she was or how much energy the healing had taken. All she could think about was Liandrin, and how she would do anything to make sure she was alright.

Liandrin didn’t speak. She only watched her with wide eyes, and silent tears streaming down her face. She didn’t try to hide them. She didn’t wipe them away. She let them fall freely, and as they did, they seemed to bring her closer to the surface of everything she had been hiding for so long.

Nesta wasn’t sure if she was the cause of those tears, if it was the pain finally breaking through, or if it was the softness of the moment that Liandrin couldn’t keep hidden anymore.

She hesitated for a moment, her heart still racing, before she took a step forward, her hands reaching out for Liandrin’s again. This time, it wasn’t for healing. It was just to touch her, to remind Liandrin that she is here with her.

"You’re safe." Nesta said, her voice a low murmur.

Liandrin’s hand trembled slightly as she placed it on Nesta’s arm, and she closed her eyes once more, allowing herself to just be. To not fight the exhaustion, to not hide behind her walls. She gave herself to the moment, to Nesta.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

Nesta nodded, her hand brushing through Liandrin’s hair, now damp with sweat. “I’ll always be here for you.” she promised.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. It was like time had slowed, leaving only the quiet sound of their breathing, the soft rise and fall of Liandrin’s chest. And then, softly, Liandrin spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think I would make it back.”

The words hit Nesta like a punch to the gut, and she didn’t know how to respond. The thought of losing Liandrin, of not being there for her, tore at something deep inside her. But she couldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not ever.

“You did.” Nesta’s voice was steady, firm. “You’re here and it’s all that matters.” The words hung in the air, soft yet resolute. There was no room for uncertainty, not when it came to Liandrin. She would not let her fall, not now, not ever.

Liandrin’s lips twitched slightly, a tired smile, but it was there. 

"Lia, I need to wrap your ribs. It will hold them in place until they’re better healed." she murmured softly, looking at the older woman before her.

Nesta’s hands shook violently as she reached for the bandage, the trembling in her fingers betraying the immense effort she had just expended. The surge of healing had drained her, but her resolve to care for Liandrin remained. She took a steadying breath, silently willing herself not to falter.

With a soft exhale, she pressed the bandage against Liandrin’s ribs, wrapping it snugly around her side. She took her time, each movement deliberate, feeling the slight rise and fall of Liandrin’s breath as she worked. Every touch was slow, every gesture filled with quiet reverence. The bruised skin beneath her fingertips spoke of pain, of suffering, but also of resilience. It was a reminder that Liandrin had made it through the worst, and Nesta was determined to help her heal.

As she finished securing the bandage, Nesta’s hands lingered for a moment, just resting against Liandrin’s side, the warmth of her skin a reminder of the closeness between them.

"You should rest." Nesta said, her voice soft but firm. "Let me help you to bed."

Liandrin didn’t protest. Her strength had been drained, leaving her feeling weaker than she ever would have admitted aloud. She simply allowed herself to be helped up by Nesta, leaning on her for support as she stood, swaying for a moment as the dizziness threatened to overtake her.

Nesta’s steady presence was all that kept her from crumbling to the floor. Her arms wrapped around Liandrin’s waist, supporting her in a way that was more than just physical. Liandrin had been through so much, and in the end, she had never expected anyone to be there for her like this. Not like Nesta. The sheer tenderness in the way she moved, the way she cared, was something Liandrin had never allowed herself to imagine. She was used to standing alone, used to fighting battles on her own. 

As they reached the bed, Nesta gently helped Liandrin lie down, making sure the pillows were propped just right beneath her head. The bed creaked under Liandrin’s weight, but the older woman didn’t flinch. She lay back, her body aching, but finally she felt safe.

"Here." Nesta said, returning with a glass of water she had just filled. She crouched beside the bed, offering the glass to Liandrin with steady hands, though the tremors in her fingertips still hadn’t stopped.

Liandrin took the water, her fingers brushing lightly against Nesta’s as she brought the glass to her lips. The coolness of it soothed her dry throat, and as she drank, her mind couldn’t help but wander back to a memory not long ago. When she had been the one holding the water for Nesta, taking care of her in a similar way.

A soft smile touched Liandrin’s lips, though it was faint. She finished the glass and handed it back to Nesta, her fingers lingering for a brief moment. "You’re quite incredible, you know that?" she said quietly, her voice laced with both awe and care.

Nesta smiled, though it was small and tinged with exhaustion. "I’m just doing what I can." she replied, her words soft, almost shy.

But Liandrin saw beyond that. She saw the raw determination in Nesta’s eyes, the power that had pulsed through her hands when she healed Liandrin’s wounds. She saw the strength in her, not just as a fighter, but as someone willing to give everything for those she cared about. The resilience it took for Nesta to continue, despite the toll the healing had taken on her own body, was nothing short of extraordinary.

She felt her heart tighten as she looked at Nesta, her hand reaching out shakily to touch her arm. There was something more in the girl’s presence than just strength. She had never been able to accept help, never allowed anyone to see her this vulnerable, but in this moment, with Nesta by her side, everything changed.

As Nesta gently laid down beside her on the bed, Liandrin turned her head, meeting blue eyes, and for a heartbeat, it was all too much. The pain, the exhaustion, the unspoken years of grief that had built up in her heart. All of it seemed to crash down on her in that instant.

Liandrin's voice came out as a soft plea. “Hold me.”

There was no pride left in her now, no armor. There was only the need for comfort that Liandrin had spent so long suppressing. She just wanted to feel Nesta’s warmth, the care that she had never known she needed.

Nesta immediately shifted closer, her arms pulling Liandrin gently into embrace. She held her softly but firmly at the same time. As soon as Liandrin was in her arms, the older woman’s body shook with quiet sobs, tears slipping from her eyes and streaking down her bruised face. She cried like she hadn’t in years, like she had been holding everything in for so long, and now it all poured out in an uncontrollable release. The emotional toll of the battle, the physical pain, and the years of solitude caught up to her, and she couldn’t stop the tears.

The younger woman’s arms wrapped around her more tightly, offering her all the comfort she could. Her touch was gentle, caressing the back of Liandrin’s head, her fingers moving tenderly through her golden hair.

Liandrin’s sobs were quieter now, but they still came in waves, each one washing away a little more of the weight she had carried for so long. She wasn’t alone anymore. She could feel Nesta’s heart beat against her, steady and strong, like a reminder that she had someone to lean on now. Her tears began to slow, and she pressed her face against the girl's shoulder, the warmth of her skin offering more comfort than words ever could.

The quiet moment stretched on, Liandrin’s sobs slowly dying down until there was nothing left but the quiet sound of their breathing, the steady rhythm of two hearts. Nesta pulled back just enough to look at her. There were still traces of tears on Liandrin’s cheeks.

The Aes Sedai’s hand trembled slightly as it rested on the girl’s chest, and she turned her face, avoiding Nesta’s gaze for a moment as if unsure of what to say, unsure of how to even begin to express what she was feeling.

But then, Nesta’s voice, soft but certain, broke through the silence. “I love you, Lia.” she said, her words unwavering, a confession that had been on the edge of her lips for so long. The weight of them felt like a release, a truth that had been buried deep within her and had now come spilling out.

“I love you too.” Liandrin whispered, her voice quiet but sincere.

Nesta’s chest swelled at the admission. She had never imagined Liandrin would let her in so fully.

Liandrin’s hand found its way to Nesta’s cheek, her thumb brushing over the soft skin. “I didn’t think I deserved it.” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I never thought anyone could care for me like this.”

“You do deserve it.” Nesta replied, her voice full of conviction. “You’ve always deserved it, Lia. You just needed someone who would see you.”

Liandrin closed her eyes, her head sinking into the pillow beneath her. She couldn’t fight the pull of exhaustion anymore. But as she lay there, with Nesta beside her, she felt at peace.

Nesta’s arms were around her, strong and sure, a reminder that she was cared for. And that, in itself, was enough. Liandrin let out a long, shuddering breath and settled deeper into the bed, her body still sore, but she felt safe and loved.

[nestadevries]

Chapter 10 | The Mission In Ashes

Notes: A bit of hurt before the comfort (in the next chapter) - around 4k words

The air in the training yard was sharp with the scent of sweat, dust, and the soft hum of power. Liandrin stood in the center, her golden hair immaculately braided, as always. Her sleeves rolled back to reveal bare forearms dusted with bruises. She moved like a storm contained, precise and unrelenting. “Again.” she ordered.

Across from her, Nesta stood with her feet shoulder-width apart, her hands clenched in front of her as she channeled. The flows of Air and Water trembled in the air around her, weaving into a complex pattern. There was a natural authority in the way she held herself, a tension coiled in her shoulders.

Nesta’s blue eyes sharp as a blade, watching every move that Liandrin showed. Her own body ached from her morning drills, muscles coiled tight with purpose. The Arches loomed, and with them, the final trial. 

"You’re clenching your jaw again." Liandrin’s tone was dry, but there was a flicker of warmth in it.

"I’m trying." Nesta muttered, glancing sideways at her.

"Trying is not enough." Liandrin circled her slowly, the way a falcon might observe its prey, not to strike, but to test, to push. "The test will not wait for your nerves to settle. You’ll be watched by Aes Sedais, who would rather see you fail than rise. You know this."

Nesta swallowed the sting of truth and nodded. “Then I’ll make them regret watching.”

That earned her the smallest curl of Liandrin’s lips. But before she could reply, the sound of brisk footsteps echoed from the entrance.

Alanna Mosvani emerged from the corridor, her green shawl trailing behind her, and approached with purpose. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes flickered briefly over Nesta with something between concern and calculation.

"Liandrin Sedai, the Amyrlin Seat requests your presence. " she said without preamble, her tone clipped.

The Red Sister didn’t turn at first. She exhaled slowly, then pivoted with calculated grace. Her brows knit together in annoyance. “What does she want now?” she muttered under her breath, then louder: “Fine. Tell her I’m coming.”

Alanna didn’t move. “It’s not a request. She’s waiting.”

Liandrin stalked past her, pausing only when she passed Nesta. Their eyes met “Keep training and don’t be stupid.”

“Am I ever?” Nesta arched an eyebrow.

Liandrin’s lips twitched, barely. But she didn’t answer. She walked off without another word.

The younger woman watched them go, the sharp line of Liandrin’s shoulders held stiff with control, as if expecting an ambush at any moment.

The yard felt emptier without her. It always did when Liandrin wasn’t nearby, though Nesta would never admit it out loud. Still, her pulse beat with a new kind of agitation now, different from the frustration of training. It was heavier, a quiet fear that dug in behind her ribs like a hook.

Please come back safe soon, she thought, though the words burned with how unfamiliar they were in her mind. She’d never worried like this about anyone before.

-

Liandrin followed Alanna through the winding halls of the Tower, her stride purposeful but tightly coiled. Something was off. The air felt too still, the light from the windows too harsh as it sliced across the flagstones. The longer they walked, the more her instincts bristled.

Siuan Sanche didn’t summon Red Sisters without cause. And certainly not alone.

When they reached the outer chamber, Alanna stopped short.  “She’s waiting.” 

Liandrin gave her a long, narrow look. “Are you only here to fetch and deliver?”

Alanna’s gaze flickered, “Don’t keep her waiting.” she murmured instead, and turned away.

Liandrin stepped inside, and Siuan Sanche stood in the middle of the room. The golden flame of Tar Valon shining behind her on the banner. Leane stood to her right, arms crossed in front of her deep blue dress, her expression a blank mask. The Keeper of the Chronicles didn’t so much as nod in greeting.

“Mother, you summoned me.” she said coolly, inclining her head in shallow respect.

The Amyrlin studied her for a long moment. “You’ve been assigned a mission, in a border village, not far away from here. There have been reports of disruptions in the Pattern. Whispers of someone channeling.”

“So you think it’s a man.” Liandrin didn’t blink.

“Possibly.”

Liandrin’s lips curved faintly. “And who will accompany me?”

“You’ll have one sister, Joline Sedai.” Siuan said, voice like ice cracking.

Liandrin turned her head slightly, eyeing Leane, still unmoving and silent. “And Joline is to be my backup?”

“Yes.” Siuan said curtly, the word clipped and final.

Liandrin raised a brow, her voice cool. “Why not a full party?”

Leane’s lips pressed thinner. Siuan’s tone remained calm, but iron-clad. “Discretion is necessary. This needs to be handled quietly.”

Liandrin tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Strange to send only two Aes Sedai to investigate something like that. You’re either underestimating the threat or hoping we don’t return.” She smiled in a sly way, as if she knew there was something wrong with it.

“Watch your tongue, Daughter.” Siuan’s words came out sharp and aggressive, like a lash.

“I always do.” Liandrin said smoothly.

Her blue eyes felt Leane’s eyes on her, unblinking. “Departure?”

“Within the hour.” Siuan replied, her voice hard as stone.

Liandrin nodded once. “As you command, Mother.”

But as she turned to leave, her gaze lingered on Leane just a moment longer. Liandrin’s every instinct was screaming. This wasn’t just a mission. It felt like a trap or maybe a punishment.

-

Liandrin’s fingers froze on the edge of her cloak, the fabric cool and unyielding in her hands. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the silence press down around her. She needed to hear Nesta’s voice, to feel the warmth of her body near hers, to see the fire in those blue eyes that had been the only thing to keep Liandrin grounded in this shifting game of power and deception.

But there was no time. She couldn’t risk being late for the mission, not with the stakes so high. The Dark One’s machinations were always lurking, always pulling at the threads of every decision, every movement. She had no choice but to leave.

With a sharp exhale, Liandrin forced her mind to focus. She quickly began gathering her things, pulling her cloak around her shoulders with a practiced motion, every movement tight with urgency. She should leave a note for Nesta, a quick reassurance, something to keep the girl from worrying.

Her eyes drifted to the desk in the corner of the room. She grabbed a piece of parchment and quickly scribbled a few words.

“Gone on a mission. Be safe. -L.”

It was simple, straightforward. But there was so much more she wanted to say, so much more that she was too afraid to admit to paper.

She put the note on the pillow where Nesta preferred to lay down her head, a quiet promise hanging in the air. If she couldn’t tell the girl in person, at least Nesta would know that Liandrin hadn’t forgotten her, hadn’t left her behind without a thought.

The door to her quarters creaked open, and Joline stood in the doorway, waiting impatiently. Liandrin’s eyes met hers for a split second before she nodded, the words unspoken between them. There was no time for more than that.

-

The weight of Nesta’s training session still clung to her, the sharpness of her focus having dulled after hours of practice with the weaves. Each strike of her Power felt like a small victory, but the intensity of it was exhausting. Her muscles ached from the relentless effort, but there was something more pressing in her mind, something that wouldn’t let her rest, Liandrin.

Her feet knew the path to Liandrin’s quarters before she’d even consciously decided to go. The halls of the White Tower felt quieter than usual. Perhaps it was only her mind playing tricks on her.

As she neared the chamber, the familiar comfort of the space called to her, but as she stepped inside, her heart sank. It was empty.

The room felt too quiet, too still. Liandrin’s presence, which usually filled the space with a commanding warmth, was absent. Nesta walked in further, her gaze flicking to the shelves filled with books and trinkets that told the story of Liandrin’s life. She went to the bed, where her eyes were immediately drawn to the note on the pillow.

Gone on a mission. Be safe. -L

The note trembled in her hand as she reread it, the simplicity of the words slamming into her harder than any weave she’d cast all day. There was no explanation, no hint of when she'd return, no mention of what the mission was.

The worry twisted in her gut, tightening her chest. She had always known Liandrin was powerful, fierce, and capable, but this mission had been sudden. And for the first time, Nesta was afraid for her.

Be safe. Her thumb dragged over the final letter, as if by touching the ink, she might pull something more from it. Some secret meaning, some echo of Liandrin's voice. But the room stayed silent. Empty.

Nesta sank onto the edge of the bed, the note still clenched in her hand.

She had no idea where Liandrin had gone. No idea why and that unknown scraped against her every nerve. The bond between them may have remained unspoken, undefined, but it had grown roots. Quietly, without permission. And now those roots twisted painfully.

Nesta sat in silence for a long time, her mind drifted to the way Liandrin had cared for her. The way she'd scolded her when she skipped meals, the subtle touches of her hand on Nesta’s back after training, the comfort in her presence even when neither of them spoke. She thought of how Liandrin would frown and tell her off in that sharp voice that somehow always made her feel steadier, more whole and safe.

With a tired groan, Nesta leaned back on the bed, folding the note and pressing it to her chest for a moment. The scent of Liandrin’s perfume lingered faintly on the sheets.

And then the absurdity of it struck her. She hadn’t eaten again. The older woman would have already launched into a scolding tirade by now.

With a sigh, Nesta turned toward the door. She would go get something to eat. It was what Liandrin would want her to do. But even as she walked away from the room, her thoughts lingered on the note, on the absence, and on the woman who had come to mean so much to her.

-

The dining hall was half-full, buzzing with quiet conversation, clinking utensils, and the occasional barked laughter of Warders. Nesta moved through it all like a ghost. Her steps were steady, but her thoughts were far from present.

She gathered a simple tray of roasted chicken, root vegetables, and bread, barely glancing at the food before she sat alone at a small table tucked into the corner.

She could still feel the ghost of Liandrin’s presence on her skin. The faint warmth of her last touch, the sting of her absence echoing louder with each bite she forced down. She hadn’t realized how ravenous she was until halfway through the plate, but even then, she ate with mechanical focus. No real pleasure, just pure need.

Her mind was still on that note, tucked away in the inner pocket of her robes. Every time she blinked, she could see Liandrin’s handwriting burned into her thoughts.

“You’re eating alone?” came a familiar voice.

Nesta looked up, fork halfway to her mouth.

Alanna Sedai, dressed in green robes, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. The Aes Sedai had a softness to her that masked her power. Her presence was warm and radiant in the way all Greens seemed to glow. There was something softer in her eyes today, though. Not the usual tension that used to spark between them. But more like the tentative openness.

“I usually do, Alanna Sedai.” Nesta said coolly, placing her fork down.

The Green Sister took a slow breath, then gestured toward the chair across from her. “May I?”

Nesta studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod.

Alanna sat gracefully, folding her hands on the table as if she were preparing for something delicate. “I heard about your training.” Alanna said gently. “You’ve been pushing hard.”

Nesta’s eyes flickered. “That’s the idea.”

“You’re close to your test.”

“I’m ready.” Nesta said confidently.

Alanna tilted her head, eyes flickering with something fond. “Of course you think you’re ready. That’s the kind of fire you’ve always had. It’s admirable.”

Nesta didn’t respond.

Alanna’s voice softened. “You still haven’t chosen an Ajah.”

“I have." Nesta said, her tone firm.

Alanna let out a quiet sigh. “You’re not Red.”

Nesta’s expression didn’t change. “And you don’t get to decide that.”

“I’m not saying that to insult you.” Alanna replied, her voice carefully measured. “I’m saying it because you’re too full of love to wall yourself off like that. I’ve seen it in you, Nesta. The way you protect or the way you care. Even when you try not to.

Nesta leaned back in her chair, eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t know me.”

“I’ve been watching you since the day you arrived at the Tower. You burned like fire, angry at the world, angry at yourself. But still, there is so much strength in you.” Alanna’s voice lowered.

“And where exactly do you think I do belong?”

Alanna smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Somewhere you’re allowed to feel. To protect others and not just to punish. We fight for the world, for life, for balance, and for hope.”

The Green Sister’s eyes softened further. “You care deeply and that’s not a weakness, Nesta. That’s a strength. Especially for someone who’s chosen such a hard path.”

“I didn’t choose it for comfort.”

“No, you chose it for her.” Alanna said.

The silence between them cracked like ice. Nesta blinked, not because she was surprised, but because the truth of it struck deep.

“She’s Red. And you think that if you follow her, you’ll stay close. That you’ll be stronger together. Maybe even protect her from whatever path she walks.”

Nesta’s throat tightened. “And what if that’s true?”

“Then I hope she’s worth what it costs you. But promise me one thing.”

“What?” Nesta’s defensive gaze lifted again.

“Don’t lose yourself in her.” There was something deeply maternal in her tone.

“I’m not some wide-eyed novice clinging to the first woman who touched me with tenderness.” Nesta snapped, but there was no heat behind the words.

Alanna didn’t flinch. “No, you’re not. But even steel bends under the right pressure. And real love changes the shape of things.”

Nesta simply stared at her, and after a long pause, Alanna whispered, “Just don’t shut the door completely. The Green Ajah would welcome you if you ever wanted to feel something beyond the need to prove yourself.”

The younger woman said nothing, as she stared down at the half-finished plate and pushed it away. Alanna’s words had landed like seeds. But the only thing Nesta could feel right now, beyond frustration or stubbornness, was the hollow ache that had bloomed in her chest since she found that note.

She had no idea where Liandrin was, and she hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye.

-

The morning fog clung to the forest floor like a shroud, thick and heavy as damp wool. It curled around Liandrin’s boots with every step, swallowing the sound of twigs snapping beneath her. The stillness stretched taut across the trees, not even a bird’s call.

Something was wrong. She didn’t like the silence. It felt designed.

Blue eyes scanned the path ahead, narrowing beneath her hood. She wore fitted red trousers tucked into scuffed leather boots, more practical than elegant.

Joline walked at her side, younger and greener in every sense, though still a full Aes Sedai. Her confidence hadn’t yet been tested, but she clung to her pride like a shield.

Her Warder had been sent ahead to scout. They hadn’t seen him since. “Something’s not right.” Joline said under her breath.

Liandrin didn’t respond, but she felt it too. The stillness wasn’t natural. It was the kind of silence that sank into your bones. A silence that only came before death. Her fingers curled and uncurled at her sides, already brushing the edge of the One Power. She didn’t dare seize it yet, not until a deafening roar split the air.

Then the trees exploded.

The first Trolloc came charging through the fog, an axe the size of a wagon wheel in its grip. Joline cried out, but her reaction was too slow. The axe caught her clean through her head. With a wet, horrible sound, she dropped without a word, lifeless before she hit the earth.

Blood splattered across Liandrin’s face, hot and sharp-smelling. She didn’t scream, she didn’t gasp.

The Power flooded into her, a sharp and electric burn, almost painful in its fullness. It crashed into her like a storm tide, boiling in her veins, pushing past her ribs, into her skull, making her fingers buzz with heat and light.

Trollocs poured from the woods, five, ten, twenty of them, snarling with inhuman fury, blades and axes raised. The fog behind them seemed to part for their charge like the breath of the Dark One himself.

Liandrin didn’t hesitate. She twisted her arms forward and sent a whip of fire arcing through the first line of beasts. Flesh burned. Bones cracked. The stench of charred fur filled her nose, made her stomach twist.

She fought with practiced precision, each weave sharp and deadly. But they didn’t stop.

A massive Trolloc rushed her. She dodged left, but it was too late. Its axe caught her thigh, slicing through fabric and muscle. The pain exploded through her like lightning. She gasped, stumbling back, but she quickly turned the pain into rage.

With a growl, she drove fire through the beast’s gut and watched it collapse.

Another came from behind, moving faster than the others, its heavy steps shaking the ground. The force of its attack hit Liandrin like a mountain. Claws raked across her ribs, digging deep into her flesh, the sharp pain flashing white-hot through her body. She gasped, the air torn from her lungs as she staggered back, struggling to stay on her feet.

Before she could react, it was upon her again. The Trolloc’s thick, matted fur brushed against her as its monstrous hand shot out, curling around her braid with a terrifying grip. The world tilted as it yanked her off her feet, her head snapping back. The braid, a signature of her identity, her strength, was now the weapon that had betrayed her.

Liandrin gasped in shock, her breath catching as her body was lifted, the force of the pull disorienting. For a brief, terrifying moment, she was weightless. Then, with brutal finality, she was hurled into the nearest tree, her back slamming into the trunk with a sickening thud.

Her bones rattled with the impact, the breath punched out of her chest. For a second, all she could hear was the ringing in her ears, high-pitched and relentless, drowning out the world around her. Her skull cracked against the rough bark, sending shards of pain into her brain, like a bolt of lightning splitting her head open.

The ground spun beneath her, a dizzying vortex of movement that seemed to swallow the world whole. Her breath came shallow and rapid, each inhale a struggle, the air burning as it passed through her cracked ribs. Everything hurt, every muscle, every bone, every inch of her body screamed in protest. The raw pain from the gash on her side pulsed with every movement, the blood from the wound slick and cold against her skin. Her head throbbed, her skull still ringing from the impact with the tree, a dull, pounding ache that clouded her thoughts.

Despite the agony, despite the overwhelming desire to collapse and surrender to the dark embrace of unconsciousness, Liandrin pushed herself upright. Her arms trembled with the effort, the strength in her limbs fading with each passing moment. She swayed, her vision swimming, as if the very world itself was uncertain of where it should be.

For a moment, the only sound was the ragged rhythm of her breath, a desperate, gasping thing that echoed in her ears. Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat sending a shockwave of pain through her battered body. She felt as if she were a hollow vessel, every part of her body consumed by agony and yet still too determined to fall.

Her vision flickered, black spots danced in her sight, threatening to pull her back into the darkness, but she refused to let it. She fought to steady herself, focusing on the single thought that kept her tethered to the world, she had to survive.

And so she did. With a ferocity born from desperation, Liandrin raised her hands, calling upon the One Power. The weave burned through her like fire, her fingers trembling as she forced Air to tear limbs from torsos. Her control was slipping, her weaves growing sloppier as the exhaustion of battle and the searing pain in her body clouded her focus. She could feel the power slipping through her fingers, but she clung to it. Desperation and fury fed her.

The Trollocs fell before her, one by one. She lashed out, the Power crackling in the air like an inferno, her eyes wild with rage and agony. The trees around her were scorched, their once vibrant bark blackened by her fury, the fog that had surrounded them dissipating into a cloud of smoke and ash. The ground was soaked, not just with blood but with the remnants of battle. The thick scent of burning flesh, the metallic tang of spilled life, and the acrid smoke that clung to the air.

She didn’t stop until there were no more of them. Until the clearing was littered with the twisted bodies of the Trollocs, their dark blood staining the earth beneath her feet. And even then, she could barely bring herself to acknowledge the silence that settled over her like a weight. The battle was over.

Liandrin dragged her leg behind her as she took a step forward. Her muscles were shredded, tendons torn, and she could feel the wetness of blood seeping through the fabric of her pants, sticky and thick. Every movement was agony, each step like walking through fire. But she moved, one foot after the other, because she had no other choice.

Her side was on fire, the pain a constant companion that gnawed at her with every breath. The gash was deep, she could tell, maybe more than one cracked rib. It wasn’t the worst of her injuries. Her face, however, felt like it was swelling by the second. She could barely feel her cheek, her nose throbbing with each pulse of blood. But she didn’t care, because she didn’t have the time. She had to keep moving.

The thought was a steady drumbeat in her mind, keeping her grounded, even as her body screamed for rest. Her legs trembled with each step, muscles torn and weak, but the force of her will was stronger than the pain. The ground seemed to shift beneath her, and she grabbed for a nearby tree, her hand shaking as she wrapped her fingers around the rough bark, using it for balance. Her vision swam, her head spinning with dizziness, but still, she forced herself upright, refusing to fall.

Her breath came shallow and labored, each inhale a struggle. She set her sights forward, to the direction of Tar Valon. The White Tower. She didn’t know if she could make it all the way back, but she couldn’t stop.

It was then, amidst the hollow, painful quiet of the woods, that her thoughts flickered to Nesta.

The name washed over her like a soft, fleeting breeze, a gentle reminder that not all was lost. Not everything had to be as grim as it seemed. Her body ached, but her mind held onto that image, Nesta’s fierce, burning eyes. The way she looked at her like she saw something that others didn’t. Something that Liandrin didn’t often let herself believe in. She wasn’t just another Aes Sedai to her. No, Nesta really saw her for who she is.

And that thought, that one tiny piece of warmth, anchored her as she limped forward, dragging her battered body through the trees.

Not duty. Not vengeance. Not the weight of the Tower’s demands. What fueled her now was simpler than that. It was the thought of Nesta’s smile, the touch of her hand, the sound of her own name on Nesta’s lips.

Her body was a ruin, but she refused to fall. She couldn’t let herself die out here, not alone, not in this forest where no one would remember her. The thought made her stomach twist, the cold bitterness of it rising in her chest. She had lived too long, fought too hard, for this to be where her story ended.

No. She would crawl back to the Tower if she had to. She would fight through every wave of nausea, every staggered breath, until she could hold onto the feeling of being wanted, of being needed by someone. Especially when, someone who saw her as more than a tool, more than a weapon. Someone who made her feel like she was worth something beyond just her power.

Nesta was waiting. That thought alone was enough to pull her forward, to drive her when her body threatened to give out. She had to make it back.

[nestadevries]

Chapter 9 | Every Breath, Every Cry

Notes: Don't forget to eat and enjoy the spicy scene. - around 7k words

The door clicked shut behind her, sealing the world outside. The weight of the day disappeared the moment Liandrin stepped into her quarters. Her golden hair, usually impeccably styled, had loosened slightly, strands falling around her face in a way that was both elegant and, strangely, more vulnerable.

Her blue eyes, as piercing as ever, scanned the room with their usual intensity, but the exhaustion was evident now, lurking beneath the surface. The rigid posture she always carried seemed to relax, as she let out a quiet breath, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. She was a woman of power, poised and refined, but tonight, the weariness from her earlier confrontation with Nesta seemed to settle deep in her bones.

And there, curled up on the sofa, was Nesta.

The younger woman had made herself at home in her space, as if she belonged there. The flickering light from the fireplace cast soft shadows across Nesta’s face. She looked different like this, so unguarded and almost peaceful.

But Liandrin knew better. Even in sleep, there was tension in Nesta’s body. A readiness, as if she was always bracing for a fight.

She moved closer, her boots soundless against the floor. Nesta had cleaned up after their training session, but Liandrin’s eyes caught the faint bruises on her arms, the ones she knew Nesta would pretend not to feel. And her hair, normally loose or braided with sharp precision, was now swept into a messy bun, with strands escaping and curling around her face. It was careless but beautiful.

Liandrin hesitated for only a breath before crouching beside her. She could have left the girl to sleep, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the way Nesta’s fingers twitched, as if she were caught in a dream. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was here, in Liandrin’s quarters, in her space.

Slowly, the Aes Sedai reached out and brushed the back of her fingers against Nesta’s cheek.

“Nesta.” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A slow inhale. Then, blue eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment before locking onto hers.

Liandrin didn’t move.

Nesta blinked sleepily, and her brows drew together slightly. “Lia?” Her voice was husky from sleep, softer than usual.

“You fell asleep on my sofa.” she said, her tone even.

Nesta made a small, unbothered noise as she stretched, her body shifting beneath the weight of drowsiness. “Didn’t mean to.” But she didn’t look particularly regretful about it.

Liandrin exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. “Of course you didn’t.”

She stood, eyeing Nesta carefully. “How are you feeling?”

Nesta ran a hand through her hair, fingers catching on a few tangled strands. “Fine.”

Liandrin’s gaze flicked to the faint bruises again. “Liar.”

“You always catch that, don’t you?” Nesta smirked, but there was no real fight in it.

Liandrin crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t be much of a Red Ajah if I didn’t.”

She expected Nesta to argue, but instead, she leaned back against the sofa, studying her.

The older woman took a slow breath, pushing past the hesitation curling in her throat. “Nesta.”

The sharpness in her voice made the younger woman’s expression sober.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard.” Liandrin said, not unkindly, but firm. “This obsession with proving yourself, it will break you if you let it.”

Nesta’s jaw tensed.

Liandrin narrowed her eyes, her gaze sharp and focused, as she leaned slightly forward, her posture exuding authority. “Tell me, when was the last time you ate today?”

The question hung in the air, thick with expectation. Silence stretched between them. Nesta’s lips parted slightly, as if she were about to answer, but then she hesitated, her gaze flickering downward for just a moment.

Liandrin’s eyes darkened, the weight of her displeasure settling over her like a storm cloud. She didn’t wait long. “Nesta?”

Nesta let out a long sigh, shifting her weight slightly. She sat up properly, her posture more rigid now, and ran a hand over her face, as if the act of wiping away her thoughts could make them disappear.

“I forgot.” she admitted, the words coming out reluctantly, as though she didn’t want to acknowledge the vulnerability in them.

Liandrin’s chest tightened, and she exhaled slowly, a dangerous calm settling over her. Without a moment's hesitation, her hand shot out, grasping Nesta’s chin with a firm but not brutal grip. Her fingers were cool against the warmth of Nesta's skin, and she pulled her face upward until their gazes locked.

“You forgot?” Liandrin’s voice was soft, dangerous, like a whisper of a storm before it broke.

Nesta’s eyes flickered under the pressure of Liandrin’s gaze, and she swallowed hard. Her heart rate quickened as she looked at the woman before her, sensing the way the command in Liandrin’s tone made her pulse throb. “I had a training and then I went to clean myself. Afterwards, I just fell asleep here.” she explained.

Liandrin’s fingers tightened just slightly, as though trying to force the weight of her words into Nesta’s soul. It was a reminder. A subtle, silent demand. Then, she released her chin with a soft exhale, but her eyes remained locked onto Nesta’s.

Her voice was quieter now, but it held an unyielding command that cut through the space between them. “Get up. You need to eat.”

For a moment, the girl didn’t move. She blinked, trying to process what Liandrin had said. The cool air in the room felt sharp against her heated skin, and her body protested against the command, but something in Liandrin’s voice made her body freeze, an unwilling submission to that underlying authority.

Nesta let out a breathy chuckle, a soft sound that betrayed her unease. She leaned back against the sofa, half-mocking the situation. “You want me to eat right now?” she muttered, her lips curling into a sarcastic grin, as if she were daring Liandrin to follow through with her orders.

But Liandrin didn’t budge. The look on her face was cold, unwavering. Her eyes narrowed, studying Nesta with a scrutiny that bordered on dangerous.

“You’re serious.” Nesta muttered under her breath, her defiance suddenly slipping. She pushed herself upright, reluctantly, and looked at Liandrin with an expression that was part challenge and part reluctant acceptance.

Liandrin didn’t answer. She simply stepped back, arms still crossed.

With a resigned, “Fine.” Nesta moved toward the door.

Liandrin watched her go, arms crossed, her gaze unwavering.

The Aes Sedai stood there for a moment, before she finally allowed herself to sit down in the nearest chair. She wasn’t supposed to care this much. She wasn’t supposed to care about whether Nesta had eaten, about whether she was pushing herself too hard, about the way she challenged Liandrin without fear.

It wasn’t just frustration, though the stubborn girl had certainly earned plenty of that. Her fingers curled into the armrest of her chair, and she forced herself to sit still, but her heart beat too quickly, too erratically. She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply as she rubbed her temple.

Nesta. She pushed herself too hard. That much was obvious. She always did. The girl's relentless drive had a singular focus, strength, power, and control. It was all she thought about, all she lived for. Liandrin had watched her at the Tower, seen her lose herself in the pursuit of perfection, never pausing to care for herself, never acknowledging the damage that would inevitably come.

But tonight had been different. Liandrin's brow furrowed as she thought back to their interaction earlier. For the first time, Nesta hadn’t snapped back when Liandrin had called her out. She hadn’t fought her with a sarcastic remark or a biting comeback. No, she had listened.

Liandrin felt her chest tighten.

She had listened. That simple action had been a revelation. The way Nesta had dropped the deflection, dropped the layers of armor she usually wore like a shield. Instead of the usual stubbornness, she had shown vulnerability and trust.

But still, Liandrin couldn’t help but wait for the sound of footsteps returning. Each second dragged on longer than it should. She forced her mind to wander elsewhere, but the pull of concern lingered in her chest, gnawing at her.

Minutes passed and then finally, the door creaked open.

Liandrin snapped her attention back to the doorway, prepared to scold Nesta for taking so long. She was ready to fire off some biting remark, to remind Nesta of her duties.

But the words caught in her throat.

Nesta stepped inside, a tray balanced carefully in her hands, her gaze set on Liandrin with an almost unreadable expression. There were two plates, two sets of utensils. A small, familiar selection of fruit, bread, and a steaming bowl of stew, and Liandrin blinked, as she realized that the second plate was for her.

Nesta didn’t say anything as she set the tray down on the table between them. She just moved, fluid and confident, as though this was entirely normal, as though it wasn’t anything worth remarking on.

Liandrin stared at the plates, her chest tightening even further. It was a gesture, so simple yet so unexpected.

“Don’t just look at it, eat.” Nesta said, her voice steady, as she picked up her fork.

The older woman’s lips parted, but she said nothing at first. She should have scolded her. She should have dismissed it. She should have said something sharp and cold, made it clear that this wasn’t something she wanted or needed. But she didn’t.

Her fingers twitched, itching to act. Her mind was racing. Why would she bring food for her without being told to? Liandrin didn’t expect this from the girl. She didn’t expect anyone to care for her, to notice her well-being.

Liandrin’s gaze locked with Nesta’s as she finally met her eyes. “I didn’t ask for this.” she muttered, her voice barely masking the quiet confusion curling in her stomach.

Nesta merely shrugged, chewing a piece of bread, a casual, unapologetic motion that made Liandrin’s insides tighten.

“You didn’t, but you need to eat too.” she replied simply.

“Fine.” Liandrin said after a long pause, her voice steady but tight. She finally picked up her spoon, but the action felt somehow heavy in her hand. “I suppose I can eat. Since you insist.”

Nesta smirked, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “I don’t insist, but you should, anyway.” she said dryly.

As they began to eat, Liandrin didn’t let the moment pass without making her point clear. 

“You think you can keep pushing yourself like this?” Liandrin’s voice was low, cutting through the calm. She set her spoon down, as she regarded Nesta. “How long do you think your body can handle that kind of strain without the proper fuel? Without sustenance?”

Nesta paused, her fork hovering just above her plate. She looked up at Liandrin, a mix of defiance and reluctance swirling in her blue eyes. “I don’t need to be babied.”

Liandrin raised a brow, a small smirk playing on her lips. “I’m not ‘babying’ you, pet. I’m trying to keep you from crumbling to dust because of your own stubbornness. You think you’re strong enough to keep ignoring your body’s needs, but it will catch up with you. It always does.”

Nesta opened her mouth to retort, but Liandrin pressed on, her tone firm. “Do you know why you’re feeling exhausted? Why you’re struggling more than usual during your training? It’s because your body is starved of the very thing that keeps it working, food. Strength isn’t just about power. It’s about balance, about knowing your limits and respecting them.”

The woman's shoulders tensed at the reprimand, but she didn’t look away. She continued to eat, though the words hit a little harder than she expected.

Liandrin leaned in slightly. “I know you don’t want to admit it, but you’re only human. Your body needs sustenance to work at its full potential. Power without care is wasted energy, and you’re too valuable to let yourself fall apart.”

Nesta’s eyes softened, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she scooped another bite onto her fork, a slow, deliberate motion, almost like she was considering Liandrin’s words.

Liandrin studied her for a moment longer, then nodded to herself, satisfied for now.

“We’ll see if you remember that the next time you’re pushing yourself too hard.” she added, her voice once again sharp.

Nesta gave a faint, almost reluctant nod, her eyes glinting with understanding. “Fine, I agree with you. But you don’t have to lecture me about it at every opportunity.”

Liandrin’s lips quirked upward in a smile that was barely there. “I don’t have to, but I will anyway.”

A brief silence fell between them, though the tension had shifted. Liandrin had made her point, and Nesta had listened. And as they continued their meal, the space between them felt a little less strained, their dynamic ever so slightly transformed by the exchange.

“Do you know how far you’ve come since I first laid eyes on you?” the Aes Sedai asked softly, the weight of the question holding more than just curiosity.

Nesta blinked, glancing up at Liandrin.

“I mean it." Liandrin continued, her tone low, almost affectionate. “You’ve been relentless in your training, even when I’ve told you to stop, to take a break. You push yourself until you’re near breaking, but you never give in. That’s something commendable." Her voice softened, despite the underlying seriousness. “But there’s a fine line, Nesta. And you’re walking it very closely."

Nesta’s hand paused mid-motion, a piece of bread halfway to her mouth.

“Your progress is impressive." Liandrin said, voice warming slightly. "Your control, your strength, I didn’t expect you to push past so many of your limitations this quickly. You’ve surprised me more than once. But you also have a habit of pushing too hard and too far."

Nesta shifted in her seat, her fingers curling around the edges of the plate. “I don’t know how to stop." she finally said, her voice quieter than usual, less sharp. "Whatever I do, it never feels good enough."

Liandrin’s heart squeezed at the vulnerability in her tone, and she leaned in slightly, her voice softer now. “You’re wrong.” Her eyes locked with Nesta’s. “You already are enough. But you have to believe that. You have to understand that you don’t need to destroy yourself to prove it. You're strong. Stronger than most, and your power is something to be nurtured, not strained until it breaks."

There was a pause, and Nesta looked down again, her eyes fixed on her meal as she poked at her food absentmindedly. “If I stop... when I stop, it feels like I’m giving up.” Her voice held a trace of frustration, but there was a hint of uncertainty she rarely allowed to show.

The older woman reached out, her hand brushing against the table lightly, her gaze softening. “You’re not giving up, Lioness. You’re learning. Strength doesn’t always mean pushing harder. Sometimes, it means knowing when to stop, when to heal, when to let the world catch up to you.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper, the weight of her words settling between them. “And sometimes, it means letting someone else help you, when you’re too stubborn to see what’s best for you.”

Nesta didn’t respond immediately, instead, her blue eyes flickered to the older woman’s face, absorbing each word.

Liandrin noticed this, her lips pressing together in a brief, soft smile. “You’ve come a long way.” she continued, her tone now more gentle than commanding. “But you need to take care of yourself. You’re not invincible, and you’ll only break if you keep going like this.”

Nesta swallowed, nodding slowly, though there was still some resistance in her posture. “I’ll try to be better about it. I’ll do better.” she said quietly, her voice almost reluctant but sincere.

The Red Sister nodded in approval. “That’s all I ask. You don’t need to do this alone, and you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Nesta’s lips twitched into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Thank you.” she muttered, the words rough but genuine.

"Good." she said softly. A sense of quiet satisfaction filling Liandrin’s chest. It was a small victory, but it was enough for tonight.

-

After finishing their meal, the two of them moved to the sofa, the warmth of the fire casting soft shadows around the room. Nesta settled beside Liandrin, her earlier defiance melting away, replaced by a quiet attentiveness.

Liandrin studied Nesta for a moment before speaking. "Do you want dessert?"

Nesta’s lips curled into a half-smile, the kind that was more teasing than anything else. She leaned slightly closer, her eyes glinting with a mischievous spark. "Oh, I want dessert." she said, her voice low and playful.

Liandrin arched a brow. “And what, pray tell, does that entail?”

A slow, wicked smile curved Nesta’s mouth as she leaned in, her breath ghosting over Liandrin’s ear. “You.”

A shiver ran down Liandrin’s spine, but she refused to yield so easily. “Bold words, but do you have the nerve to follow through?” she purred.

“Why don’t you find out?” In one smooth motion, she slid from the seat and sank to her knees between Liandrin’s legs. The sofa jostled slightly, but Nesta’s balance was unshaken, her hands already pushing up the hem of Liandrin’s skirts.

Liandrin’s breath hitched as Nesta’s fingers traced the inside of her thigh. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“You have no idea.” Nesta’s eyes gleamed in the light.

Nesta didn't bother with patience, as she hooked her fingers into the delicate fabric and yanked, tearing it aside with a sharp, delicious sound. Then her mouth was on her, hot and relentless, and Liandrin's taunt dissolved into a gasp. 

The first lick was slow, deliberate, a broad stroke from entrance to clit that made Liandrin's hips jerk. Nesta hummed in approval, her hands gripping Liandrin's thighs to hold her still as she dove in again.

The older woman's fingers tangled in blonde hair, gripping tight as Nesta's tongue worked her in slow, maddening circles.

But Nesta was in no rush. She savored her, licking into her with deep, languid strokes before closing her lips around Liandrin's clit and sucking deeply.

Liandrin's back arched off the seat, a sharp cry escaping her. "Fuck…"

Nesta obeyed, her mouth relentless, her tongue flicking and pressing in just the right rhythm, only heightened the sensation. Every shiver sending friction where Nesta's lips and tongue worshipped her.

Then, just as Liandrin's breath began to come in ragged gasps, Nesta pulled back, nipping lightly at her inner thigh.

Liandrin growled, her grip tightening in Nesta's hair. "Don't you dare stop."

Nesta smirked up at her, her lips glistening "Or what?"

Liandrin's blue eyes flashed and with a sharp tug, she yanked Nesta back against her, forcing her mouth where she needed it most. "Or I’ll make you regret it."

Nesta moaned at the rough treatment, her hands gripping Liandrin's hips as she increased her efforts. She licked into her with renewed hunger, her tongue working in swirling patterns until Liandrin's thighs trembled around her.

"I’m close..." Liandrin gasped, her fingers twisting in Nesta's hair.

Nesta responded by sliding two fingers inside her, curling them just right as her tongue circled Liandrin’s clit.

Liandrin came with a cry, her hips bucking against Nesta's mouth as pleasure crashed over her in waves.

The younger woman didn’t let up, devouring her until Liandrin was shuddering, oversensitive, her grip finally loosening in Nesta’s hair.

When Nesta pulled back at last, her lips and chin were slick, breath ragged. She dragged her tongue across her bottom lip, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact.

Liandrin, still panting, surveyed the delicious mess she had made of Nesta. Her gaze was dark, possessive. "I suppose you did have the nerve after all." she murmured, her voice low and satisfied. She tilted Nesta’s chin up with two fingers, the soft pressure of her thumb against the hinge of the girl’s jaw sending a shiver through her.

"Open." she commanded, her voice sharp with authority. There was no room for defiance, no space for anything but obedience.

Nesta’s lips parted, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She knew better than to hesitate, as she felt Liandrin’s sharp gaze, how it pierced her, daring her to submit.

A flicker of defiance still smoldered in her eyes, but it was quickly smothered by the heat of the moment. Slowly, Nesta obeyed, her tongue flicking out slightly, offering herself to Liandrin’s control.

Liandrin smirked, her lips curling into a predatory smile. "Wider."

Her voice was steady, but there was a dangerous edge to it now, one that made Nesta’s pulse spike. Liandrin’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement as she studied her, enjoying the vulnerable power dynamic that stretched between them.

Then, with deliberate slowness, Liandrin gathered saliva on her tongue, letting it glisten for a heartbeat, a visual promise of the control she wielded. And she spat directly onto Nesta’s waiting tongue, the warmth of it landing like a brand against her skin.

The sensation was raw, primal, and Nesta’s throat constricted as she fought to suppress the overwhelming rush of emotion that came with the act. There was something deeply intimate about submitting to Liandrin in this way.

"Swallow." Liandrin ordered, her voice smooth as silk but filled with dark satisfaction.

Nesta’s pulse hammered in her throat, her body stiffening for a split second before she obeyed. The warmth of the saliva slid down her throat, the act of submission making her chest tighten with a mix of humiliation and desire.

Liandrin’s fingers tightened in her hair, yanking her closer with a possessive tug that sent a jolt of electricity through her. Their breaths mingled, hot and ragged, as Liandrin’s lips hovered just above her ear. "Good girl." she purred, her voice dripping with approval. "Now beg for more."

Nesta's lips stayed parted, her tongue a trembling offering, still slick from Liandrin's last command. The taste of her lingered, salt, power, and intoxicating. Every breath she took felt stolen, as if the air itself was thick with expectation.

"Please." Nesta whispered, the word scraping raw from her throat, almost painful to voice.

Liandrin’s fingers flexed in her hair, not quite pulling, but firm, as a reminder of control. "Please, what?" she murmured, her voice a purr of amusement, tilting her head like a cat considering a cornered bird.

She knew what Liandrin wanted to hear, knew the game, and still, the words felt heavy on her tongue. “Please do it again.” Her voice was softer this time, the edges of her pride fraying beneath the weight of her own need. She swallowed, her mouth already watering in anticipation.

The older woman smirked, slow and knowing. “Again what, darling?”

Heat flooded Nesta’s face, a desire that burned through her like fire, hotter than any touch. Liandrin was savoring this, drinking in her desperation like it was the finest wine. The way she waited, the way she made her ask, it was deliberate and excruciatingly slow.

Nesta licked her lips, her breath uneven. “Please spit in my mouth again.”

Liandrin’s smirk deepened, satisfaction curling at the edges of her lips. She leaned in, her free hand cupping Nesta’s jaw, her fingers pressing into the delicate skin just enough to remind her who was in charge. Her thumb dragged lazily over Nesta’s bottom lip, teasing, as if testing how much further she could unravel her.

Nesta obediently extended her tongue. 

The Aes Sedai took her time. She let Nesta feel the unbearable tension, the weight of her control pressing down on her. Her gaze flickered over the girl's face, drinking in the dilated pupils, the pink flush high on her cheeks, the way her breath shuddered with each passing second.

And then, finally, with deliberate, lazy cruelty, Liandrin gathered a mouthful of spit, letting it glisten on her tongue for a lingering moment before she let it drip onto Nesta’s waiting tongue, slow and unhurried.

Nesta whimpered, the sound barely more than a breath, as her body responded without thought. Her lips closed around the offering instinctively, swallowing without hesitation, her throat working in a way that made Liandrin’s grip in her hair tighten.

Liandrin hummed, “So good for me.” she murmured, her fingers stroking Nesta’s cheek with mocking tenderness.

Then, with a sharp tug to her hair, Liandrin yanked Nesta’s head back, forcing her to meet her gaze fully. Their faces were close, breaths mingling in the charged space between them.

"Up." Liandrin commanded, her voice low but firm.

Nesta obeyed without hesitation, rising gracefully, her body tense with anticipation. She held Liandrin’s gaze, refusing to look away even as her breath hitched in her throat.

Liandrin’s pale fingers, the same ones that had pulled so mercilessly at her hair moments ago, now traced the line of her jaw with surprising softness. The contrast was dizzying, cruelty melting into tenderness. Nesta’s skin burned where Liandrin touched, the warmth sinking deep beneath the surface.

Silently, Liandrin reached for the laces of Nesta’s dress. There was no rush, no force, as if unwrapping something precious. The earlier dominance lingered, but it had softened, taking on a possessive intimacy. Fingertips brushed against exposed skin.

A single shiver ran down Nesta’s spine when the dress slipped from her shoulders, the cool air kissing her bare skin. The soft rustle of fabric pooling at her feet was the only sound between them.

Liandrin stepped back slightly, just enough to take her in. Her sharp gaze swept over Nesta, not with mere hunger, but with admiration.

Then, wordlessly, she lifted her hands and allowed Nesta to touch her in return. Nesta’s fingers found the fastenings of Liandrin’s red dress, hesitant at first but growing more certain. She undid each clasp carefully, revealing inch by inch of pale, smooth skin. There was something strangely intimate about it, removing each layer, each barrier, until Liandrin stood before her, unguarded.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The firelight flickered over their bare skin, painting them in gold and shadow. The Aes Sedai exhaled and curled her fingers around Nesta’s hand. She squeezed lightly as she guided themselves toward the bed.

As they reached the edge of the bed, Nesta was the first to lower herself, her body sinking into the soft mattress, the warmth of Liandrin’s touch still lingering on her skin. She stretched out, her breath steady but expectant, watching as the older woman remained standing for a moment, surveying her.

Then, with deliberate grace, Liandrin moved to straddle her, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Nesta’s hips.There was no uncertainty in the way Liandrin took her place above her. She always commanded the space around her, and this was no different.

Liandrin’s gaze swept over the girl, sharp and assessing. “You’ve been insufferable today.”

Nesta smirked up at her, the picture of defiance even as she lay beneath her. “And yet, you haven’t punished me for it.”

A pause. A flicker of something dangerous in Liandrin’s expression.

And then, without warning, she moved, her knee slammed between Nesta’s thighs, forcing them apart with a jolt that left no room for argument. Nesta sucked in a sharp breath, her smirk faltering just slightly, but the wicked gleam in her eyes remained.

Liandrin leaned down, her breath warm against Nesta’s ear as she murmured, “That was your last warning.”

“You talk a lot for someone who’s supposed to be in charge.” Nesta’s lips curled into a teasing smile.

A slow, dangerous smile curled Liandrin's lips. "Oh, my Lioness." she murmured, “You’ll regret it.” Her hand slid between Nesta’s thighs, finding her soaked.

In one swift, practiced motion, she twisted them both. She shoved Nesta onto her stomach. "Now, let’s see how much more you can take." she murmured.

Liandrin’s hand fisted in Nesta’s hair, yanking her head back. "On your hands and knees."

The younger woman obeyed, bracing herself on the mattress as her ass tilted up. The cool air kissed her bare skin.

"You always seem to enjoy pushing the boundaries." Liandrin said softly, her eyes glinting with a mix of admiration and warning.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Nesta asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Liandrin’s smile deepened, eyes narrowing. "Perhaps it’s both." she replied.

The first strike landed without warning, a sharp, stinging slap that echoed through the quiet chamber. Nesta gasped, her fingers scrambling against the silk sheets as fire bloomed across her ass.

"Count." Liandrin commanded, her voice smooth as poisoned honey. The word hung in the air, sweet and dangerous.

Nesta gritted her teeth, her heart pounding in her chest as she forced the word out, each one a challenge, an admission she couldn't quite suppress. "One."

Liandrin traced the reddening skin with her fingertips, her touch light at first, but filled with intent. She could feel the tension in Nesta's body, the way her pulse quickened, betraying the bravado she tried to maintain. It was clear that Nesta hated this, but she couldn’t deny how much her body responded. How every part of her seemed to crave more.

"Good." Liandrin purred, savoring the moment.

The second strike landed harder, the sharp crack of skin against skin echoing in the room. Nesta’s hips jerked involuntarily, but Liandrin's hand on her back was unyielding, a reminder that she was helpless against the woman’s control.

"Two." Nesta hissed, her knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding.

Liandrin’s fingers brushed over the reddened flesh, and her eyes glinted with dark pleasure. "Such a pretty color on you, darling. I should mark you like this more often." The words were whispered with an almost affectionate cruelty. 

The third strike was cruel in its exactness, landing again on the same spot. Nesta’s back arched, the pain sharp and deep, and a strangled noise threatened to escape her throat.

"Fuck… three." Her voice breaking.

Liandrin leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of Nesta's ear. "Language, pet. Unless you'd like to start over?" The words were soft, but there was no mistaking the authority behind them.

Her hand soothed over the sting, tracing the mark she’d left, before delivering a fourth strike, sharper and harder.

Nesta shuddered, every part of her body and mind reacting. The surge of warmth and humiliation coiled inside her. "Four." she managed, her voice trembling, as if she could barely keep herself together. The tension in her body was impossible to ignore, and yet she fought to keep her pride intact.

The Aes Sedai smiled, the corners of her lips curling upward as she could feel the heat radiating from the younger woman, and the power it gave her was intoxicating. Her palm rested possessively on the curve of Nesta's ass, as if claiming her.

Liandrin ran a fingernail over Nesta’s soaked folds, savoring the contrast between the harshness of her actions and the softness of Nesta’s body reaction. "Look at you." she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "Dripping before I’ve even touched you properly."

Nesta braced herself, trying to maintain some semblance of control as Liandrin’s palm cracked against her ass once more.

"Five."

"Perfect." the older woman said, her voice thick with approval. She leaned over Nesta, her lips grazing the nape of her neck. "But we both know you can take more." The challenge was clear.

The sharp crack of Liandrin's palm against Nesta's bare skin echoed through the chamber, the sound as precise as a whip. The girl gasped, her body arching instinctively, but Liandrin's other hand held her firmly in place, knees spread wide, her back arched, utterly at the mercy of the older woman.

"Six." Nesta’s voice was breathless.

The next strike landed lower, right where thigh met ass, and Nesta’s breath hitched in a way that wasn’t entirely pain. There was a strange warmth spreading from the spot where Liandrin’s palm made contact, an undeniable sensation of pleasure, though she tried to ignore it.

"Seven."

Liandrin’s smirk deepened as she watched the flush bloom across the soft skin of Nesta’s ass. "You take it so well." she murmured, trailing her nails lightly over the heated flesh, savoring the way the girl’s skin shivered under her touch. "But we're not done yet."

The eighth strike came with more force, landing with a controlled precision that sent a jolt through Nesta’s body. She whimpered, the sound raw and unintentionally desperate, and Liandrin felt a rush of satisfaction deep inside.

"Eight." Nesta's voice cracked.

"Look at you, so desperate for me." Liandrin purred, her voice teasing as she reveled in the sight of Nesta’s quivering form.

As the ninth strike came, Nesta finally cried out, her thighs squeezing together in an attempt to escape the sensation. But Liandrin didn't allow it. With a firm press of her hand, she pinned her down, forcing her to take it. There was no escape, no retreat from the sensation flooding through her.

"One more." Liandrin murmured, her voice a dangerous promise.

The final strike landed with all the force of a command, the crack of it resounding louder than the others. Nesta’s body shook with it, a sob breaking free from her throat before she could contain it. But Liandrin was relentless. She hauled the girl up by her hair, pulling her face close, forcing her to meet her gaze.

"Ten." Liandrin breathed, her thumb brushing over Nesta’s parted lips, the touch impossibly tender in the wake of the punishment.

Nesta's eyes were glassy, unfocused, and her body pliant under Liandrin's touch. Every breath was slow, ragged, and Liandrin reveled in the sight of her, in the absolute submission that had been carved into her. 

"You are mine." Liandrin growled against the nape of Nesta's neck. "Every breath, every shudder, every cry, all mine."

Nesta arched into her, a sound slipping from her lips. But Liandrin didn’t ease up. She slammed Nesta down into the mattress with her full weight, holding her there like a predator pinning its prey. There was no escape, no room to breathe without permission.

"You fight me even now." Liandrin hissed, grabbing a fistful of Nesta's hair and yanking her head back, making her gasp. Her grip was unyielding, her fingers curled in Nesta’s hair like a leash.

"Maybe I just like watching you work for it.” Nesta’s nails dug into the sheets, her voice laced with challenge despite the strain.

Liandrin’s laugh was sharp, wicked, her blue eyes gleaming like ice under flame. "Oh, you like to test me, but don’t forget who owns you." she purred.

She shoved Nesta up, right onto knees, dragging her into the position she wanted. Back arched, hips raised, exposed and helpless under her hands. Her palms dug into the soft skin of Nesta’s thighs as she yanked her back with force, until they were flush together, heat colliding.

"You will learn, and you'll thank me for it." Liandrin murmured, her lips grazing Nesta's shoulder before her teeth sank into the skin hard enough to leave a mark.

"Tell me, who do you belong to?" she growled against her ear.

"You, only you." Nesta gasped.

Liandrin bit down again, her body trembling with how much she wanted to break her open, then hold everything that poured out.

"Mine, and no one else will ever touch you. " she snarled.

Then she took her, rough, relentless, her body commanding and unyielding. There was no hesitation in her hand, only possession. Each movement drove deeper, faster, harder. Each sound Nesta made fed her hunger, made her grip tighter, her rhythm sharper. She wanted Nesta to feel this in her bones.

Liandrin’s other hand snaked around her waist, pulling her back harder, forcing Nesta to take every inch of her fingers like a lesson. "You're going to come when I tell you to." she said, voice raw with dominance. "And not a second before."

Nesta sobbed with need, her whole body quaking beneath Liandrin’s control. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her whole world had narrowed to the bruising grip and the demanding rhythm Liandrin set. Each thrust harder, deeper, keeping her right on the edge but never letting her tip over.

“Not yet.” Liandrin growled, her voice ragged with her own desire, but steady in its command.

Nesta whimpered, every muscle in her body strained as she tried to obey. Her body wanted release, screamed for it, but Liandrin wouldn’t allow it.

The older woman felt it, every twitch, every helpless shift of Nesta’s hips. The sound of Nesta’s ragged moans filled the room, the desperation in them making Liandrin’s blood roar.

“You’re close.” she hissed. “So close you can’t think, can you?”

Nesta tried to speak, but all that came out was a sob, her voice trembling with restraint. Liandrin leaned over her, wrapping an arm around her middle and dragging her upright against her chest, forcing her to feel her fingers deeper.

“Answer me.” she snarled in her ear. “Who owns you? Who decides when you get to fall apart?”

“You, you do.” Nesta gasped.

“Then hold it. Show me you’re mine.”

Nesta shook in her grasp. It felt impossible, being this close, suspended in torment, burning from the inside out. And yet, she didn’t disobey.

Liandrin’s own breath hitched at the obedience, at the girl’s surrender. Beneath all the teasing, all the fire, Nesta gave in. And not because she was broken, but because she chose to. Because she wanted to be hers.

The Aes Sedai's rhythm slowed just enough to be maddening. “That’s it.” she whispered, “You’re doing so well for me."

“Please.” Nesta finally choked, “Please, I can’t...”

“Yes, you can.” Liandrin kissed her neck, her voice low and rough. “But now, you may.”

She twisted her fingers deeper and Nesta gasped, her back arching, “Come now.” she growled.

Her body snapped forward, driving deep and hard, and the sound that tore from Nesta’s throat was half sob, half relief. Finally, her entire body seized in release, and through the haze of it, her cry split the air.

Nesta shattered in Liandrin’s arms, her whole body convulsing with the force of it, collapsing down onto the mattress like a puppet with its strings cut.

Liandrin followed her down, not letting go, her chest pressing to Nesta’s back, their skin flush and damp with sweat. For a moment, she simply breathed her in. Skin to skin. Heat to heat. Her heartbeat slowly returned to a calm rhythm, grounded by the weight of Nesta beneath her. 

“So desperate, and messy.” Liandrin purred.

She lifted her hand, fingers glistening, and gripped Nesta’s jaw, forcing her head to turn. “Open.”

Nesta didn’t hesitate. Her mouth parted eagerly, reverently. Liandrin slid her fingers past her lips, and Nesta welcomed them, tongue swirling around them, cleaning every trace of herself without shame. Her eyes fluttered shut as she suckled at Liandrin’s fingers like it was the most natural act of devotion.

Liandrin’s gaze darkened, as she watched the way Nesta’s mouth moved, the soft noises she made, the eagerness in her worship. She felt wild, unsteady, overwhelmed with the sheer force of her own desire.

When she finally pulled her hand away, slick with saliva, she murmured. “Good girl.”

Nesta tried to speak. Her lips parted, but her breath caught, throat tight, a hoarse whisper barely escaping. Her body was shaking with the aftermath of everything, her muscles spent, trembling like a bowstring that had snapped, and every ounce of her felt exposed.

Her eyes fluttered, unable to focus on anything except the overwhelming flood of sensations still rushing through her veins, each pulse another echo of the rough rhythm that had taken everything from her. Her head was spinning, her chest heaving with each shallow breath she drew.

Liandrin didn’t speak at first. She simply hovered over Nesta, watching the signs of her surrender, the way her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm. Without a word, Liandrin brushed a kiss to the nape of Nesta's neck. It wasn’t possessive or sharp. It was tender, almost an apology in its softness.

She shifted slightly, enough so that her presence was still close. Her hand drifted to the back of Nesta’s neck, her fingers weaving into the soft strands of her hair as she guided her to a more comfortable position, curling her close.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Nesta’s breath finally began to even out, the tension slowly bleeding out of her muscles as she finally allowed herself to relax. The exhaustion hit her like a wave, and before she could stop herself, her eyelids fluttered closed, her body sinking into the soft sheets beneath her.

The older woman watched the slow shift in Nesta’s expression, the way her body gave up the last of its fight and surrendered to the comfort Liandrin offered. She could see it in her face, that was still flushed, lips parted, and eyes glassy.

She didn’t let go of her, not immediately. Liandrin’s fingers brushed over Nesta’s cheek, guiding a lock of hair away from her face, her touch soft.

“What is it?” Liandrin murmured, her voice low, almost gentle. “No clever words now?”

Nesta couldn’t find the strength to answer. There was nothing left. Her whole body felt like it had melted into the mattress, her muscles still sore, and all she could do was breathe. Her chest rose and fell slowly, each breath coming easier, though it was a struggle to form words.

Liandrin stood up from the bed. She reached for the cloth on the bedside table, wetting it with warm water until it was damp. “Good.” she murmured, a smile curling on her lips.

She returned to Nesta's side, the cloth in hand, the warmth of the water soothing in the aftermath of their intensity. With careful precision, she began to dab at Nesta's reddened skin, focusing on the areas she had marked.

Her touch was meticulous, each stroke gentle yet purposeful. Her fingers glided over the bruised flesh, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the sting.

As Liandrin worked, her expression remained unchanged, but there was a softness and gentleness to her movements. There was no power play here, no dominance. Just the woman who had broken Nesta and the woman who now, in this small, intimate moment, sought to piece her back together.

When she was done, Liandrin placed the cloth aside and reached for a glass of water from the bedside table. She lifted it to Nesta’s lips, her voice gentle as she urged, “Drink.”

Nesta hesitated for only a moment, her hand weakly reaching up to take the glass from Liandrin’s steady grasp. She drank slowly, the cool water soothing her dry throat, the simple act grounding her, reminding her that she was still here, still whole, despite everything that had just happened.

When the glass was empty, Liandrin set it aside and then, without asking, pulled Nesta into her arms, holding her against her chest in a tight, comforting hug.

Liandrin’s arms were strong, but they were also warm, protecting, as she wrapped them around Nesta. “I’ll never let you go.” she whispered. It was a declaration of their bond, that was forged in the fire of passion. The one she could never untangle, one that had already woven its way into the very core of who she was.

Nesta let out a small, shaky breath, but a sly grin tugged at her lips before she spoke. "Good, because I’m not going anywhere." she murmured playfully.

Blue eyes fluttered closed, the last of her resistance melting away as her body surrendered to sleep.

“Rest, Lioness.” Liandrin murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve done well.”

Nesta’s only response was a nearly inaudible hum, her body too tired to respond in any other way. Liandrin pulled the blanket up over them both. She rested her head gently against the pillow beside Nesta, looking down at the woman in her arms, knowing that this moment of softness was something neither of them would have expected.

[nestadevries]

liandrin guirale you have bewitched me with your accentuated jawline and wonky moral compass

[nestadevries]

Chapter 8 | A Name In The Dark

Notes: “Be kind to yourself.” - around 3k words, but the next chapter will be longer ;)

The morning sun filtered through the high windows of the training hall, casting sharp beams of light across the worn stone floors. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the electric hum of the One Power, crackling around them like an unspoken challenge.

Liandrin stood at the edge of the room, her posture regal and commanding, as always. Her dark, elegant robes clung to her form, the deep crimson of her shawl a stark contrast against her pale skin, making her blue eyes colder. Her golden hair framed her face in loose waves, the sharp angles of her features softening slightly in the light.

Nesta, on the other hand, was a contrast of raw and untamed energy. Her blonde hair, usually pulled back into a messy braid, now hung loose around her shoulders, framing her face in soft waves. The sweat on her brow glistened in the light, and her blue eyes were wild with determination, their color bright and piercing, like a storm ready to break. Her tall, strong frame was tense as she channeled the One Power with every ounce of her being, her muscles straining beneath the simple training attire she wore. Despite her strength, there was an air of rawness to her, a sense of someone who had yet to fully understand the depth of their own potential.

The Aes Sedai had been watching her, scrutinizing every move, every flicker of energy. There was no denying that Nesta was progressing faster than she had expected. Each day, she pushed herself harder, straining against the limits that held her back, refusing to stop even when her body screamed at her to relent. The older woman could see the drive in her, the unspoken need to prove something, and not just to Liandrin, but to herself.

She’s close, Liandrin thought, her chest tightening with a mixture of pride and alertness. Nesta was pushing herself, again and again, without hesitation. There was something about the way she fought for control, her determination burning brighter than the power she wielded.

But it wasn’t enough.

Liandrin could see that Nesta was reaching her limits, her body trembling from the strain. She was trying to force herself to do more, to push past the point where she should stop. Instinctively Liandrin took a step forward, her protective instincts flaring.

“Nesta, stop.” Liandrin called, her voice firm but calm.

But Nesta didn’t listen.

The room seemed to bend around her as she wove the One Power. Her hands moved with frantic precision, but there was a rawness in her movements, a desperation that made the air hum with intensity. Blood began to trickle from the corner of Nesta’s eye, but still, she pushed harder.

Liandrin’s breath caught, her heart skipping a beat as the blood stained Nesta’s cheek. The sight of it, of Nesta breaking herself, of her pushing past her own limits set fear in Liandrin. She stepped forward quickly, her voice sharp with authority.

“Nesta!” Liandrin snapped again, this time more forceful, her voice breaking through the haze of power swirling in the room.

But Nesta didn’t stop.

She was so focused on the task at hand, her face drawn in concentration, her jaw tight with determination, that she didn’t even acknowledge Liandrin’s command. The blood continued to trickle down her face, staining her skin, and Liandrin’s patience snapped.

With a swift movement, she crossed the distance between them and reached out, grabbing Nesta by the arm. The force of it yanked the girl back, pulling her away from the currents of the One Power she was trying to control.

“Enough!” Liandrin’s voice was low, filled with warning.

Finally, Nesta’s eyes snapped open, dazed, as if she hadn’t fully realized what she was doing. Blood dripped from her eye, but it was the fierce frustration on her face that made Liandrin’s chest tighten.

“I’m fine.” Nesta growled, her voice rough with exertion. “I can do this.”

Liandrin shook her head, her grip tightening on Nesta’s arm, pulling her even closer. Her eyes, usually so cold, were now filled with a quiet kind of intensity, the kind of concern she rarely showed anyone.

“No.” Liandrin said firmly, her tone low but commanding. “You’re not fine. You’re pushing yourself too hard, and I won’t let you break yourself over this.”

For a moment, Nesta didn’t respond. She glared at Liandrin, her teeth clenched, as if she wanted to argue, to fight against the control Liandrin was exerting. But there was honest worry in Liandrin’s gaze that stopped her.

"You're reckless." Liandrin’s voice was lower now, but no less firm. "You act like if you just push hard enough, you'll suddenly shatter every limit in front of you. But that’s not how it works. You’ll break yourself first."

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me." Liandrin demanded.

Nesta's lips parted, then shut. A muscle ticked in her jaw as she turned away. The wind had picked up, cooling the sweat on her skin, but she hardly noticed.

The older woman took a step closer, but this time, she didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, her voice softened, just slightly. "Nesta."

No titles. No sharp edges. Just her name.

"I’ve spent my entire life reaching for something." Nesta finally said, her voice quieter now, controlled. "Power. Strength. Something that makes me more. And every time I get close, every time I think I've done enough… it turns out wrong."

Liandrin didn’t speak right away. She only watched her, her gaze unreadable.

Nesta let out a breath, shaking her head. "I've always been told to do better. To be more. And when I finally am..." Her throat tightened, and she cut herself off before the words could break.

The Aes Sedai's expression shifted, recognition flickering in her eyes, because she understood.

"You were never good enough for them." Liandrin said, not as a question, but as a quiet, bitter fact.

Nesta swallowed.

Liandrin tilted her head slightly, and her next words came slower. "No matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you proved yourself, they always asked for more."

Nesta's gaze snapped to hers.

Liandrin’s voice remained steady, but there was a shadow of her own past beneath it. "Because they never wanted you to succeed. They wanted you to chase something you could never reach. Because if you did, if you became what they feared you could be, they wouldn’t be able to control you."

A sharp breath escaped Nesta before she could stop it.

Liandrin took another step forward, closing the last of the space between them. "I know, because I have lived it."

Nesta didn’t look away.

"When I first came to the Tower, they wanted me to fail. They wanted me to fall in line, to be less than what I was." A sharp, humorless laugh left her lips. "They didn’t like that I refused."

The younger woman studied her carefully. She had never heard Liandrin speak like this, never heard her admit to anything that could be considered a weakness. But now, here she stood, offering a piece of herself without hesitation.

And Nesta felt it, deep in her bones. The mutual understanding.

“You’re not invincible.” Liandrin added, her voice softer now. “And you don’t need to be.”

Liandrin’s hand slid to Nesta’s cheek, her touch gentle despite the tension in the air. She watched as the girl flinched slightly, as if the tenderness was foreign to her, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her shoulders sagged a little, the weight of her frustration and guilt settling over her.

“I’m trying to be more.” Nesta said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I'm trying to prove that I can be more.”

The Aes Sedai’s brow furrowed slightly, her eyes searching Nesta’s face. She tilted her head slightly, her expression softening. “More than what?”

“More than what I am.” Nesta answered, her voice shaky. She wasn’t ready to say the full truth, not yet. But it was there, buried under the layers of her frustration.

Liandrin’s heart twisted at the words, a strange pang of recognition gnawing at her chest. She had been there once, too. Treated as less than what she was capable of. Underestimated and dismissed by those who were supposed to care for her.

“I won’t let anyone treat you like that again.” Liandrin said firmly, her voice low, steady. Her thumb brushing the blood away with care. “I see you, Lioness. You’re more than enough. Don’t ever doubt that.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, Nesta didn’t feel the urge to push them away. She didn’t feel the instinct to argue, to shield herself behind her walls. Instead, she felt warmth that slowly replaced the cold armor she had built around herself.

-

The White Tower was quieter at this hour. The late afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting golden streaks through the high-arched windows. The air held a strange stillness, thick with the remnants of the day’s heat, as Nesta walked through the corridors, her steps slower than usual.

She wasn’t sure why she had come here.

Training had drained her. Even after washing away the sweat and grime, she still felt the weight of it. The cool water had done little to soothe the bruises forming along her ribs and arms, dark smudges against her skin.

Her hair, damp from washing, had been hastily gathered into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, though several strands had slipped free, framing her face in loose blonde waves. It was an unintentional kind of beauty. The sort that came from exhaustion and carelessness.

Still, her feet had carried her to this door, which had started to feel like the only safe place in the whole Tower.

She pushed it open without hesitation. Liandrin wasn’t here.

The room smelled like her, though. The crisp linen and something darker, something faintly floral but edged with spice. A cloak had been tossed over a chair, its rich crimson fabric draped carelessly over the wooden frame. A cup sat abandoned on the table, the liquid inside long cooled, leaving faint traces along the rim.

Nesta exhaled, rolling her shoulders, but the ache lingered. She didn’t think about it as she moved further inside, drawn to the sofa near the window. The cushions were firm but welcoming, their surface slightly indented from past use. She sank down slowly, stretching her legs out in front of her, one knee bent while the other rested against the armrest.

The air was warm, heavy with the golden light filtering through the window. A breeze stirred the curtains, the fabric shifting lazily, and Nesta tilted her head against the sofa’s back.

She hadn’t meant to close her eyes. Hadn’t meant to let her body sink deeper into the comfort of the cushions, the way they cradled her sore muscles, the way the fatigue weighed down her limbs until lifting them seemed impossible.

But the exhaustion was relentless. It pulled at her, coaxed her under, and before she could fight it, her breathing slowed, her grip on consciousness slipping.

And then, the world fell away.

-

Everything shifted. There was no warning, no slow descent into sleep, only the sudden, jarring sensation of being somewhere else.

Nesta’s eyes snapped open, and the room was gone.

Instead, she stood in an endless expanse of silver mist. The air was thick with it, swirling around her ankles, stretching into the vastness beyond. It moved unnaturally, shifting like something alive.

The White Tower was nowhere in sight. No walls, no doors, no sign that she had ever fallen asleep on Liandrin’s sofa.

Her breath came slow and steady, but she recognized the tightness in her chest. The instinctual tension of sensing a predator before it revealed itself.

Something was wrong.

She turned, scanning her surroundings, her bare feet silent against the ground, if there even was ground. The mist swallowed everything, blurring the horizon, warping distances so that she couldn’t tell if anything was near or impossibly far away.

Nesta’s spine straightened as she sensed a presence.

A shadow took form within the mist, stepping forward with an ease that made the air itself seem to ripple in deference. The figure sharpened, solidifying into the shape of a woman.

Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, the loose waves catching the ghostly light of this realm. She wore white today, a gown spun from silk so fine it shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, shifting between pearl and moonlight with every slow, fluid movement. The bodice was sculpted to her form, high-necked but sleeveless, leaving the pale expanse of her arms bare, save for silver cuffs that wound around her wrists like delicate chains.

The fabric hugged her curves, pooling at her feet in long, flowing layers that trailed behind her like mist made solid. Slits ran high along both sides of her legs, revealing glimpses of smooth skin as she walked, each step taken with the lazy confidence of someone who had never once known fear.

She was ethereal, untouchable, like something carved from a dream.

And yet, the way she carried herself, the glint in her bright eyes, told Nesta that she was complete the opposite to a dream.

The woman’s smirk was indulgent, as if she had been expecting her.

“Well, well.” she purred, voice smooth as velvet. “Look what the dream dragged in.”

The mist around them swirled, as if it recognized the Forsaken’s presence. Nesta’s pulse quickened, the tension in her body rising as the strange woman loomed over her. There was something unsettling in the way the air felt heavier, more oppressive with every passing moment. But what unnerved Nesta the most was the ease with which the woman moved through the mist, as if it was simply an extension of her.

Her gaze was predatory and it made Nesta's breath catch in her throat. She felt exposed, like prey standing in front of a hunter, though she refused to let herself show any sign of fear.

The woman took a slow, deliberate step toward her, the silk of her gown swirling like liquid, and Nesta’s eyes followed her every move, trying to anticipate what would come next. She stood her ground, feet rooted in the shifting mist, every muscle coiled and ready.

"You're not dreaming, little one." the Forsaken continued, her voice smooth and silky, as though she were savoring each word. "Not quite yet, at least. And this place bends to my will."

Nesta's lips tightened into a thin line. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice steady despite the cold fear creeping up her spine. The words left her mouth before she could second-guess them, an attempt to regain control over the situation that was quickly slipping away.

The Forsaken chuckled low, almost a purr. She took another step forward, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "A question that’s both simple and complicated. My name is Lanfear, though you may not know me yet. But you will. We are fated, you and I."

Her tone made Nesta’s stomach twist, a sense of inevitability curling in her chest. Fated? Was she talking about the strange dreams that had come to her, the pull she felt, the way she had been drawn to this very moment?

The girl opened her mouth to respond, but Lanfear raised a hand, silencing her with a mere gesture. The air around them grew colder, the mist thickening and swirling in response to the subtle power she exuded.

Lanfear took a step closer, her towering figure shadowing Nesta, her presence impossible to ignore. She was taller than the girl, and the feeling of looking up at her only intensified the pressure around the Nesta's’s chest.

"You think you have control, little one." Lanfear whispered, her breath warm against Nesta’s ear, "But in the end, control is just an illusion. You need someone who can show you what real power is. Someone who can take the weight off your shoulders and show you the true extent of your strength.” She tilted her head, sensing the shift in Nesta’s expression.

Nesta felt her body tense, her fists clenching at her sides. This woman was dangerous, that much was clear. Yet, despite the danger, despite the feeling of being ensnared by her words, there was something tempting about the way Lanfear spoke.

“I don’t need it from you.” Nesta snapped, though her voice was a little shakier than she intended.

Lanfear’s laugh was like silk, but there was a sharpness to it. "Don’t you? You’re lying to yourself, Nesta. And I will make you see the truth.”

The mist around them seemed to pulse, a strange energy radiating from Lanfear as she took another step closer. Her light eyes locked onto Nesta’s, and for a moment, it was as if the entire world was compressed into that one gaze.

“You’re drawn to power.” Lanfear said softly, almost coaxingly. “And power has drawn you to me. Come closer and let me show you.”

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath. The pull between them was undeniable. It wasn’t just a physical force, it was something primal that thrummed beneath Nesta’s skin, drawing her in. She stepped forward, against her better judgment.

Lanfear’s smirk deepened. “Tell me, Nesta, what do you think you’re doing? What do you believe you’re fighting for?”

She didn’t answer.

Lanfear smiled as if she had expected the silence.

“Aes Sedai, perhaps?” Her tone dripped with mockery. “Their approval? Their validation? Do you truly believe they will ever see you as their equal? That they will ever give you what you crave?”

Nesta’s hands curled into fists at her sides.

Lanfear hummed, pleased. “Or perhaps it’s not them at all.”

Nesta’s breath slowed, controlled, but Lanfear saw the shift in her stance. A predator always knew when it struck something vital.

Lanfear’s smirk sharpened, her voice turning to silk. “Ah. So it’s her.”

Nesta’s heart pounded and Lanfear’s eyes gleamed.  “What exactly do you hope to gain from her?”

The Forsaken clicked her tongue. “She will never be your equal. You know that, don’t you?” She took another step forward, her presence looming. “Liandrin will never be enough for you. She is nothing but a pawn, playing a game far beyond her reach.”

Nesta’s fingers twitched, but she forced them to remain still.

Lanfear circled her now, slow and deliberate, her voice soft, coaxing. “You think she sees you, but she doesn’t. She can’t, not truly. She is shackled by her own limitations, her own weaknesses.”

Nesta’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression blank.

“You were meant for more.” Lanfear continued, her voice almost gentle.

The mist around them thickened, swirling higher, drawn by the quiet power in her words.

“With me you could have everything.” Lanfear whispered, stopping behind her now, so close that Nesta could feel her presence like a shadow against her skin. “Power beyond imagining. Strength no one would dare challenge. No more struggling, no more proving yourself to those who will never truly accept you.”

Nesta’s breath was steady. Measured. But her heart...

Lanfear smiled.

But then Nesta quickly turned and met Lanfear’s gaze head-on. “I don’t need you.” Nesta said, her voice cold, sharp. Unshaken.

Lanfear’s smile faltered for the first time.

Nesta took a step forward, closing the distance Lanfear had created, forcing the taller woman to either stand her ground or move back. Lanfear, of course, didn’t move.

“I don’t need your power.” Nesta continued, her blue eyes burning. “And I don’t need you to tell me what Liandrin is or isn’t.” Her chin lifted. “I know exactly who she is.”

Lanfear’s expression remained unreadable, but the air around them rippled, as if the world itself reacted to Nesta’s defiance.

Nesta took another step. “She is not weak.”

Lanfear let out a quiet breath. Whether it was amusement or frustration, Nesta couldn’t tell.

But the girl held her ground, her voice unwavering. “And you can throw all your words, all your temptations at me, but it won’t change a damn thing.”

The silence stretched between them, taut as a drawn bowstring.

And then Lanfear laughed. She seemed even more intrigued.

“Well.” she murmured, her dark gaze sweeping over Nesta in quiet appraisal. “Aren’t you just full of surprises?”

Lanfear exhaled, a slow, indulgent sound, before shaking her head. “I wonder, just how long that resolve of yours will last.” she mused, mostly to herself.

Nesta clenched her jaw. “Long enough.”

“We shall see.” Lanfear’s smirk returned, slow and knowing.

Then, with an infuriatingly graceful turn, she stepped back fading into the mist, her form dissolving like shadow into light.

Nesta blinked and the world shattered.

[nestadevries]

Chapter 7 | Oath Of The Heart

Notes: One kiss that meant the world - around 4k words

The training grounds were nearly empty in the early morning light, save for Nesta and Liandrin. The air was crisp, the silence broken only by the rhythmic sounds of their footfalls and the distant hum of the Tower stirring awake.

Nesta stretched her arms over her head, rolling her shoulders, before turning to Liandrin. The older woman had tied her hair back in a loose braid, but what really caught her attention was the fitted training attire that clung to her form.

“Something amusing?” Liandrin asked, catching the ghost of a grin on Nesta’s lips.

Nesta tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Nothing at all. Just thinking this might be the best part of my morning.”

Liandrin scoffed, but a flicker of amusement crossed her sharp features. “Enjoy it while you can, because I’ll have you on your back soon enough.”

“Careful, you might make me think that’s an invitation.” Nesta taunted, stepping closer.

They circled each other for a moment before Liandrin struck first. A sharp jab aimed at Nesta’s ribs, which was quick and precise. Nesta dodged, shifting her weight to the side, countering with a strike of her own. Liandrin blocked, their arms colliding with a dull thud.

The fight was brutal and relentless. Liandrin’s strikes were precise, calculated, while Nesta fought with an unpredictable edge, quick footwork, swift counters, and a sharp mind that made her a formidable opponent. It wasn’t a frenzied exchange of blows but a battle of endurance, each testing the other’s limits.

Beads of sweat formed at Nesta’s temple, her breath coming faster. Strands of her blonde hair stuck to her damp skin, but she didn’t care. She reveled in the fire of it, in the sheer exhilaration of facing someone who could truly challenge her.

Liandrin, to her credit, barely looked winded. Her blue eyes gleamed with focus, a thin sheen of sweat across her brow, but her breath remained controlled.

Nesta gritted her teeth and she feinted left before pivoting sharply, landing a solid kick against Liandrin’s torso. The impact sent a shudder through the Aes Sedai, who exhaled sharply. A flicker of approval crossed Liandrin’s face before she retaliated with a sweeping kick of her own.

Nesta barely dodged. She could already feel the bruises forming along her arms from earlier blocks, but she refused to yield. Instead, she pressed forward, using her speed to her advantage, landing another hit with a well-placed elbow to Liandrin’s ribs.

A breathless chuckle slipped from Nesta’s lips. “You feeling it yet?”

Liandrin didn’t answer. Instead, she struck with renewed vigor, her movements sharper and faster, as though the brief break had only fueled her determination. Her fist whipped toward the girl with lightning speed, landing a solid blow to her shoulder, the impact vibrating through her bones. Nesta grunted and staggered back, but Liandrin was relentless. A quick, brutal jab to her ribs followed, and Nesta hissed as the air was knocked from her lungs.

Before she could catch her breath, the Red Sister darted in with a vicious hook to her midsection, knocking Nesta back on her heels. She tried to sidestep, but Liandrin anticipated the move and landed a powerful strike to her jaw. Nesta’s head snapped back from the force of it, but she quickly regained her stance, glaring at the older woman.

Liandrin’s eyes gleamed with focus as she advanced, her attacks coming faster now, one after another. A quick knee to Nesta’s stomach forced a grunt from her, she barely had time to react before Liandrin’s hand shot out, catching her wrist with an iron grip.

The Aes Sedai twisted her arm expertly, using the momentum of Nesta’s movements to pull her down to the mat. 

The younger woman hit the mat hard, a rush of air leaving her lungs. But before she could scramble back up, Liandrin was on her, pinning her wrists down, her legs straddling Nesta’s hips, effectively trapping her beneath.

Their heavy breaths mingled in the small space between them. Nesta’s pulse pounded, her chest rising and falling against the older woman’s.

Liandrin’s skin glowed with exertion, a flush high on her cheeks. A few strands of her golden hair had come loose from her braid, clinging to her damp forehead. She looked striking, powerful, and utterly irresistible.

Nesta swallowed hard, staring up at her, her own breath catching.

“Yield.” Liandrin commanded, voice low and unwavering.

Nesta didn’t answer right away. Instead, she let her lips curve into a slow, wicked grin. “If this is what losing to you feels like, I think I could get used to it.”

For a brief, suspended moment, Liandrin didn’t move, her chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, her fingers tightening just slightly around Nesta’s wrists. The pressure was intense, but there was a hesitation in her grip, a hint of something else beneath the calm exterior. Perhaps, an acknowledgment of the fight, of the challenge, of the connection between them.

Then, with a sharp exhale, Liandrin released her grip, slowly letting go of the tension that had held them both. She stood, a fluid, graceful motion, and offered a hand to Nesta. “Get up.” she said, but this time her voice was softer.

Nesta, still breathless, reached up and took her hand, her fingers curling around Liandrin’s palm. The touch was electric, their skin meeting with a charge that made her heart race even faster than before. Despite the bruises forming across her body and the aches from the fight, the sensation of Liandrin’s touch lingered in her veins.

She allowed Liandrin to pull her to her feet, and for a moment, as she stood there, chest heaving, her breath mingling with Liandrin’s, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Her heart pounded in her chest, and despite the fact that she had just lost, she felt no bitterness. There was only a deep, consuming admiration for the woman before her. The strength, the skill, the undeniable presence that had once intimidated her and now filled her with a strange longing.

Nesta finally broke the silence, her voice low but teasing. "Not bad. I’m impressed. I think you’ll make a fine opponent when I have to face you next time."

Liandrin raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "Next time?" she asked, her tone a mix of amusement. "I thought you would be too exhausted to want another round."

Nesta grinned back, the playful edge to her voice softening her usual cocky demeanor. "You'd be surprised. I don’t back down easily."

Liandrin chuckled softly, her eyes narrowing in that way that always made Nesta’s stomach flutter with anticipation. "No, you don’t. But it’s not just about the fight, is it?" Her voice dropped, turning serious.

"Maybe, it’s not." Nesta said quietly, stepping closer, her gaze locking with Liandrin’s. "Maybe it's about proving something else to you."

Liandrin’s eyes softened slightly, a flicker of vulnerability creeping in before it was quickly masked. She lowered her hand from Nesta’s and placed it lightly on her shoulder, a gesture that felt almost intimate, despite the bruises still forming on both of their bodies.

"You’ve already proven more than enough." Liandrin murmured. "But it’s not about proving anything to me, Lioness. It's about proving it to yourself."

Nesta took a breath, her chest still rising and falling from the exertion of their sparring. The words hit deeper than she’d expected, a reminder of the layers she still hadn’t peeled back in her own mind. She wanted to push back against the vulnerability Liandrin was trying to draw out of her, but she stayed quiet, instead letting the weight of the moment settle between them.

-

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over Liandrin’s balcony. The gentle breeze tousled their hair as they stood side by side, the weight of their recent sparring still lingering in their muscles. Liandrin had already applied a soothing cream to Nesta’s bruises, and now it was her turn.

Nesta’s movements were slow and deliberate as she gently massaged the cream onto Liandrin’s shoulders. The quiet intimacy of the moment was soothing and each touch carried the unspoken connection between them.

When she finished, she leaned back, resting her weight against the railing, allowing herself to bask in the warmth of the sun. She glanced over at Liandrin, who was standing in a relaxed position. For a moment, they were both quiet, just enjoying the stillness that had followed the intensity of their sparring.

Then, Liandrin spoke, her voice calm and steady, though there was an unmistakable edge to it, as if preparing for something far greater than the fight they’d just had.

“The upcoming test isn’t just about strength, Nesta.” Liandrin said, her gaze focused on the horizon. "It’s a trial of everything you are, everything you've been. It will test your ability to handle the One Power, your mind, your heart, and your fears. The Arches will show you what you fear the most." She glanced over at Nesta, her expression hardening slightly.

"I’ve faced worse. I'll survive." Nesta said, her voice steady and unwavering, laced with a confidence.

Liandrin’s gaze hardened. “It’s not just about surviving.” she said, her voice low. "The Arches will push you beyond your limits. It will force you to confront your past, your mistakes, your regrets. You’ll walk through a series of experiences and some of them so real, you’ll wonder if you're still alive. It’s not just a test of your physical endurance. It’s a test of your spirit.”

Nesta clenched her jaw, the weight of her words sinking in. "How did you get through it?"

Liandrin hesitated, a flash of something like regret or pain flickering behind her eyes before it was quickly concealed. She seemed to be weighing her answer, as if sharing this part of her past was harder than she expected. "I thought I was prepared when I faced the Arches. I had seen the other novices go through it. I thought I understood what it would be like. But nothing can truly prepare you for the weight of the test."

She looked out at the horizon again, her voice growing distant. "You’ll have to face your own darkness. The things you’ve buried deep. The things you’d rather forget. But you can’t escape it. Not in the Arches. And that’s when you’ll discover what you're truly made of.”

“But I will survive it. I will survive it because of you. You’ve given me more than just power. You’ve given me something to fight for.” Nesta said firmly.

Her words hung in the air, she wasn’t just fighting for herself anymore. She was fighting for the bond between them, for the woman who had become her anchor in the storm.

Liandrin’s blue eyes softened, and she reached over, resting a hand on Nesta’s arm. "You will. But not just by brute strength or power. You’ll need to dig deep and find strength in places you didn’t even know existed."

“And if I can’t?” Nesta’s voice was quieter now, her heart beginning to race as the enormity of the upcoming test settled deeper into her bones.

Liandrin’s eyes sharpened with an intensity that could have been terrifying if it weren’t for the kindness in her voice. "You will. You have more strength than you know. But it’s not just physical. You’ll have to be strong here." She tapped Nesta gently on the chest, just above her heart. "And here." Her hand moved to Nesta’s head, lightly brushing against her temple. "Your mind, your heart, your will, they are all part of this."

A sense of gratitude passed through Nesta’s chest, and she gave a small nod. Without thinking twice, she reached up and placed her hand on Liandrin’s sharp cheek, her fingers gently tracing the smooth skin.

The Aes Sedai’s blue eyes flickered in surprise. For a moment, everything seemed to stop, the world narrowing to just the two of them. And then, Liandrin’s face softened, the sharpness melting away as she leaned into the touch. The tension that had been holding her, the defenses she always wore so carefully, seemed to dissolve under the gentleness of Nesta’s gesture.

-

The chamber was quiet, cloaked in the stillness of the late night. A faint breeze drifted through the open window, ruffling the curtains, carrying the distant murmur of the city beyond the White Tower. Moonlight pooled across the bed where Nesta lay, her body warm and relaxed beneath the soft sheets.

Beside her, Liandrin had already succumbed to sleep, her steady breathing the only sound in the darkened room. Nesta had stayed awake longer, resting on her side, watching the slow rise and fall of Liandrin’s chest, the tension in her features finally smoothed away by sleep.

She wasn’t sure when it had become a comfort. This quiet time between them, the warmth of another body close enough to touch.

Nesta didn’t realize she had started to drift off when Liandrin suddenly shifted.

At first, it was subtle. A small twitch of her fingers. A furrow of her brows. Then, a quiet murmur, so faint she almost missed it. But then the murmurs turned into something sharper.

A whimper. A shudder.

Nesta blinked fully awake just as Liandrin’s breath hitched, her entire body tensing beneath the sheets.

Suddenly, her whole form jerked violently.

-

The room was dark and the air reeked of stale sweat and ale. Liandrin pressed herself against the wooden floor, her ribs aching, her breathing shallow. She curled inward, instinct taking over. Make yourself small, make yourself invisible. But she knew better than to hope.

The silence never lasted, as she heard footsteps. Each step sent a faint tremor through the floor, the wood groaning under his weight like it, too, feared what was coming.

The voice followed, slithering through the dark.

"Did you think I wouldn’t find out?"

The words were almost amused, a slow, drawn-out sentence meant to savor her fear.

Liandrin clenched her teeth, her fingers curling into the splintered wood beneath her. Her heart pounded like a war drum, loud, deafening, drowning out every rational thought. She had known this moment was coming and there was no escape.

The first kick landed hard against her ribs. A sharp, sickening crack.

The pain was instant, white-hot, stealing the air from her lungs. She gasped, body instinctively folding around the injury, but there was no time to recover before the next blow came to her back.

One after another, each strike sent waves of agony through her body, but she swallowed the scream, forced it down. She knew that he liked it when she screamed and she wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

"Lying little whore."

The boot caught her side, and she bit down on her lip so hard she tasted blood.

"How pathetic and weak."

She knew what came next.

The belt. The sharp crack split the air before the pain even registered. A searing line of fire ripped across her skin, followed by another, and another.

Her body convulsed under the force, but she didn’t cry out. Her throat had closed around the sound, suffocating on the helplessness pressing down on her. She tried to move. Tried to drag herself away, even if it meant just an inch of space between them.

But the boot came down on her wrist, pinning her to the ground.

The pressure increased, bones grinding together beneath his weight. A pained whimper tore from her throat before she could stop it.

"You belong to me." the voice whispered, thick with triumph.

No. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t weak. She wasn’t his.

But the belt came down again, and all she could do was scream.

-

Liandrin woke with a sharp gasp, a cry ripping from her throat as she lashed out.

Nesta had already sat up. “Liandrin?”

Her voice was quiet but firm as she reached out, brushing her fingers over Liandrin’s arm.

The Aes Sedai gasped as if she’d been burned. And then she struck.

A sharp slap cracked through the stillness, the impact of Liandrin’s palm snapping Nesta’s head to the side. A bright sting bloomed across her cheek, but she barely reacted, too focused on the wild panic in the woman before her.

Liandrin was awake, but not here. Her eyes were unfocused, darting around the dimly lit room as if searching for someone. Her breath was ragged, her body shaking with barely restrained terror.

Nesta steadied herself, then moved carefully. “Lia.”

No response.

The older woman’s chest rose and fell in sharp, ragged motions, her hands clenched so tight her knuckles were ghostly white.

Nesta tried again, reaching for her wrist, not grabbing, just enough for Liandrin to feel her warmth, to anchor her. “It’s me.” She kept her voice even, gentle. “You’re safe.”

Liandrin flinched again. Her muscles coiled like a trapped animal’s, her gaze still lost in some faraway horror.

Nesta didn’t let go. Instead, she tightened her fingers just slightly, grounding her. “It was a dream.” she whispered, tracing slow, steady circles over the skin of Liandrin’s wrist. “You’re in the White Tower. You’re with me.”

For a long, breathless moment, Liandrin didn’t move. Then, slowly, her frantic gaze began to clear. Nesta watched the change, the way the wild panic in the blue eyes dulled into something just as painful, but no longer blind terror.

The girl took a chance and shifted closer, closing the distance between them until they were nearly nose to nose. She lifted her hand, cupping Liandrin’s sharp cheek. “I’m here.” she murmured.

Liandrin’s body shuddered. But this time, it wasn’t fear that shook her, it was exhaustion. A bone-deep weariness that settled into every inch of her, as if her body could no longer carry the weight of the past. She felt hollow, emptied out, yet still drowning in the remnants of a nightmare that had never truly left her.

Nesta’s thumb brushed over her cheek, a silent reassurance. Gentle, steady. Not demanding, not forcing. Just there. A grounding touch in the midst of the storm.

Liandrin had spent years flinching away from touch. She had learned to armor herself so thoroughly that even kindness had felt like a trap. But now, she leaned into it.

It was instinctive, subconscious. Her body betraying what her mind refused to admit. She closed her eyes, letting herself feel the warmth of Nesta’s palm, the steady rhythm of her breath.

Then, she exhaled. A slow, shuddering breath, that felt like releasing a lifetime of suffering. But even as the breath left her, the ache remained. Those old wounds that never fully faded.

Her gaze flickered open, locking onto Nesta's eyes.

“I hit you.” she rasped, barely above a whisper.

Guilt laced every syllable, thick and suffocating. The weight of it pressed down on her ribs, coiling in her gut like poison. She had raised her hand and hurt Nesta. Her fingers curled into the blanket, gripping it tightly, as if she could tear the guilt out of herself.

But Nesta didn’t flinch. Didn’t recoil. She only held her gaze, calm and steady, her touch never wavering.

“You were fighting ghosts.”

Liandrin’s breath hitched. A flicker of pain crossed her face, raw and unguarded. Nesta felt it in the way Liandrin turned further into her touch, pressing into the warmth of her palm as if it were the only thing keeping her from unraveling completely.

“He used to beat me.”

The words landed like a stone in the pit of Nesta’s stomach. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She only let her hand linger against Liandrin’s cheek, letting her decide how much she wanted to say.

“My husband. ”Liandrin swallowed, her jaw tightening, as if forcing the words out took effort. “Before I came to the Tower.” she murmured bitterly.

Nesta’s fingers tensed slightly against her skin, a barely restrained reaction. She hadn’t known. No one knew.

Liandrin turned her gaze away, staring somewhere past Nesta’s shoulder, her voice quieter now. “He liked to remind me that I belonged to him. That I was nothing.” A bitter laugh, humorless and sharp. “And for a time, I believed him.”

Nesta’s heart twisted painfully.

Liandrin’s fingers clenched into the sheets, her voice thick with vulnerability. “Even now, I still wake up expecting to see him standing over me. Expecting the pain.”

Nesta didn’t hesitate this time. She moved even closer, until their foreheads nearly touched, until her voice was the only thing Liandrin could hear.

“You’re safe. I am here with you.” she repeated, her voice steady, unwavering.

Liandrin swallowed hard, her throat tight as the words pressed against it. She hadn't meant to say anything at all. But now that the truth had slipped out, there was no taking it back.

She exhaled shakily, “He was well respected and wealthy. And people saw him and thought he was a fine husband. But no one ever saw what he was behind closed doors.”

“He liked control. He liked obedience.” Her jaw clenched, and when she spoke again, there was something hollow in her voice. “And I was never obedient enough.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy with the weight of words left unspoken. But then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Liandrin’s hand drifted to her ribs, fingers brushing over the fabric of her shift.

Nesta’s blue eyes followed the movement. “He left those scars.”

The older woman let out a quiet, bitter breath. Then, slowly, she took Nesta’s hand, guiding it to her side. Beneath the soft fabric, Nesta’s fingers traced raised ridges of old wounds, scars hidden for years, unseen by anyone until Nesta.

“The belt.” Liandrin murmured, voice almost detached. “Or sometimes the whip, when he thought I deserved worse.” She huffed a humorless breath. “It was always worse.”

Nesta’s throat burned. Her fingers curled slightly against the scarred skin, not in revulsion, but in silent fury. “Lia…”

Liandrin shook her head. “I learned not to scream.” she continued, her voice quieter now. “He liked it when I screamed, so I stopped.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “That was the only way to deny him anything.”

A sharp, cold rage settled deep in Nesta’s chest. She couldn’t fathom it, not just the cruelty of it, but the idea of Liandrin, strong and fierce, being reduced to silence. Being made to suffer at the hands of some monster who called himself her husband.

Nesta’s hand tightened, her fingers curling protectively around Liandrin’s side. “I am so sorry, Lia.”

Liandrin’s gaze darkened. “The last night I spent in that house, I thought he was going to kill me.”

Nesta’s breath caught.

Liandrin’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “After I managed to escape, I made it to the White Tower.” She let out a breath.

“I swear, as long as I’m breathing, I will always be by your side.” Nesta whispered, her breath searing against Liandrin’s lips, burning with the heat of her promise.

Liandrin’s chest hitched, her breath shallow and ragged. But Nesta’s words didn’t just cut through her fear, they consumed it.

The Aes Sedai flinched, not sure whether to believe it. Not sure whether anyone could mean it like that.

Nesta reached for her hand, pressing it against her chest. “I swear it.” Nesta said. She exhaled, her fingers curling around Liandrin’s hand, keeping it pressed against her chest. “I swear it on my soul, on my body, and everything that I am.”

Liandrin’s body shook under the weight of it. No one had ever spoken to her like this. No one had ever dared to look at her like this.

“I’ll burn everything that comes between us.” Nesta muttered, her eyes dark with undeniable certainty. “Your past, your scars, your ghosts, they’re all mine now.”

Liandrin's hand trembled, her chest tightening with the rush of emotions. She wanted to speak, wanted to say something, but there were no words, no defenses. The older woman leaned forward, as her fingers tangled in Nesta's hair wrenching her head back with just enough force to make her gasp. The sound was swallowed immediately as Liandrin's mouth crashed against hers, claiming, devouring. It wasn’t a kiss born of softness or hesitation, it was a kiss of possession.

The kiss was a declaration of ownership, and affirmation. Liandrin was accepting Nesta’s vow, claiming her just as fiercely, binding herself to the woman who had dared to offer her all of herself.

Liandrin pulled back just enough to meet Nesta’s eyes, wild, searching, as if she couldn’t quite believe what had just happened.

And Nesta, breathless, lips swollen from the kiss, held her gaze without hesitation, her expression soft yet determined. “I meant it, Lia.” Nesta whispered. “I’m yours. All of me.”

Then, with a slow, trembling breath, she leaned in once more, pressing her forehead to Nesta’s. “And I’m yours, too.” she murmured, her voice quieter this time, but filled with an honesty she had never known she could offer.

It wasn’t just a kiss anymore. It was their oath. An oath they both would never take back.

[nestadevries]

I can't stop singing it.

[nestadevries]

new tanchico episode made me incredibly depressed

[nestadevries]

Chapter 6 | In Her Arms

Notes: Sometimes, we all need rest and a warm bath. - Around 5k words

Darkness stretched endlessly around Nesta. It wasn’t the comforting embrace of night, nor the quiet solitude of a dream. It felt as it was suffocating her. A weight pressed against her chest, unseen hands threading through her mind, pulling her further into the abyss.

The sensation crept through Nesta’s skin like icy tendrils, slipping into her veins, seeping into her bones. She gasped, but no sound escaped. The air around her was thick like the world itself had slowed, trapping her in this moment.

Then suddenly, light. Not a gentle glow, but something sharp and unnatural, silver like moonlight. It outlined the silhouette of a woman standing just ahead, her presence effortless, regal, as if the world itself bent around her.

Nesta tried to move, but the space around her shifted unnaturally, like a reflection on water, distorting before she could get her footing. The woman stepped forward, each movement precise. Her hair was dark as a starless sky, flowing over her shoulders in waves of liquid night. Her eyes seemed impossibly bright, as they watched Nesta with an amusement that sent chills through her spine.

“You wander where you do not belong.” the woman murmured, voice smooth.

Nesta’s throat was dry. She didn’t even know if she could speak in this place, but the woman tilted her head as she drew closer with each step.

As she decreased the distance, her fingers touched Nesta’s cheek, a featherlight touch, deceptively soft. Nesta willed herself to move, to pull away, but her body refused to obey. She was caught and not by force, but by the weight of the woman’s presence alone.

“Struggling already?” A quiet laugh, rich and knowing. The woman’s lips curled into something that was neither kind nor cruel, just assured, as if she had already won.

Nesta’s heart pounded against her ribs. She didn’t know how she had come here, to this place, to her, but she could feel the edges of the dream bending under the power of the woman’s will.

A flick of her wrist, and the shadows behind her twisted into something unfamiliar, shifting like living things. “Dreams can be such fragile things, so easily shaped and taken too.” she mused, her tone thoughtful.

The woman tilted her head, as if reading the very thoughts Nesta was trying to bury. “You are an interesting one.” she murmured, her amusement deepening.

Nesta swallowed hard. She hated being so helpless, the feeling of being seen too clearly, unraveled by a stranger she didn’t even know.

The woman took another step closer. Her presence was suffocating in the most maddening way. Then, without warning, the woman’s hand moved, not to strike, not to grab, but to cup the side of Nesta’s neck. Her fingers rested just above her pulse, a silent acknowledgment of how it thrummed beneath her skin.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” The words were a lie. A gentle, coaxing lie.

And Nesta wanted to believe it.

The darkness pulsed again, swallowing them both in an instant. And she fell.

-

Blue eyes flew open, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Nesta's skin felt clammy, slick with cold sweat, as though the nightmare had dripped its icy touch onto her very soul. The darkness of the dream still lingered, pressing down on her chest like an unseen weight. Her heart hammered in her ribcage, a frantic drumbeat that didn’t match the slow, oppressive silence of the room.

Nesta drew in a sharp breath, but it caught in her throat, dry and tight. She wiped at her forehead with trembling fingers, only to feel the tangled mess of her hair sticking to her skin. Knotted strands falling into her face, as wild and chaotic as the nightmare she’d just fled. Her usually straight, blonde locks were a tangled mess of sleep. It was the kind of mess that she couldn’t hide, the kind that showed just how unsettled she truly felt, how broken that calm facade of hers could be when she was alone with her demons.

“Nesta?”

The voice was soft, a gentle whisper in the dark. It cut through the fog of her panic like a tether, and she turned her head to see Liandrin sitting beside her, her presence solid and grounding. The room was dimly lit, and the familiar warmth of Liandrin’s energy filled the space. She could feel a sense of comfort, and safety from her, but it didn’t quite chase away the lingering terror from her dream.

“Are you alright?” Liandrin’s tone was calm, but there was an edge of concern beneath her usual composure. She gently placed a hand on the girl’s arm, her touch warm against the cold sweat of Nesta’s skin.

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” Nesta lied, the words feeling like a shield.

Liandrin’s gaze softened, but it was clear she had been watching over Nesta for some time, her own worry barely concealed beneath her usual demeanor. She hadn’t woken up from a mere sound. She had sensed Nesta’s fear, her discomfort, before the nightmare even fully overtook the girl.

“What happened?” Liandrin asked, her voice calm but the weight of concern in her eyes betraying her usual stoic nature. Her fingers, warm and gentle, rested on Nesta’s arm, grounding her.

The younger woman swallowed, trying to force the feeling of helplessness from her throat. She shook her head, trying to brush off the nightmare, but the feeling of being powerless, of being trapped by something she couldn’t control, still haunted her.

“Just a dream.” Nesta rasped, her voice rough. She didn’t want to explain it. She didn’t want to admit that something beyond her own understanding had nearly crushed her. Her hair, still sticking to her cheeks, fell around her face in messy tangles.

Liandrin studied her for a beat, her expression softening, but there was still an undercurrent of protectiveness. “You’re safe. I am here with you.” she said, her voice low and soothing.

It was the truth. Liandrin was here with her, in the quiet aftermath of the nightmare. But Nesta couldn’t shake the feeling that something or someone was still lurking, just beyond the edge of her thoughts.

Liandrin reached out to tuck a strand of messy hair behind Nesta’s ear, her fingers lingering for just a moment, a small gesture that carried a thousand unspoken words.

In that quiet, tender moment, Nesta felt a wave of gratitude. For Liandrin’s presence, for the calm that she brought in the storm of emotions. It was strange to feel this vulnerable and exposed.

As Liandrin lay back beside her, close enough to offer warmth but not so close to invade Nesta’s space, she let out a breath, her own form of unspoken care, and Nesta let herself be carried by the steady pulse of Liandrin’s presence.

She closed her eyes, the lingering unease in her chest still there, but for a moment, she let herself relax, knowing that Liandrin would be there when the morning came.

-

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a muted glow over the room. The air was still, save for the gentle rustle of sheets as Nesta slowly stirred awake. Her body was tangled with Liandrin’s, her back against the older woman’s chest. Their limbs were intertwined, the warmth of sleep still lingering between them.

Nesta blinked, her breath slow and steady as she became aware of the feeling of Liandrin’s arm around her waist, holding her close. It was an intimate silence, one that neither of them had rushed to break. Her messy hair, now tangled in a haphazard mass around her face, tickled against the older woman’s skin.

Liandrin’s voice, softer than usual, broke the quiet. “We’re taking the day off.” she murmured, her tone calm but insistent. Her breath brushed against the back of Nesta’s neck, warm and comforting. “No training today. Rest.”

Nesta hesitated, her mind still clouded by remnants of the nightmare, but Liandrin’s quiet authority made it hard to argue. The thought of a day without the constant pressure of training felt oddly soothing.

“Are you sure?” Nesta asked, her voice hoarse from sleep, but there was a certain vulnerability in it.

The Aes Sedai’s hand slowly slid up Nesta’s side, the touch tender, a soft caress that contrasted with her usual sharpness. “I think you’ve earned it. Besides, I’ll need you in top shape for what's to come.” she said with a hint of a smile in her voice.

Liandrin’s words carried an unspoken meaning, and though Nesta didn't press, she felt the truth of them settle deep in her chest. Whatever was coming, Liandrin would make sure she was ready.

They stayed there for a few more moments, neither of them eager to break the quiet bond of shared warmth. However, the peaceful silence between them didn’t last long.

Soon, the room filled with the sounds of movements, as Liandrin finally sat up and reached for her robe. “We should eat.” she suggested, her tone shifting to more practical. “We have things to discuss.”

As they made their way to the small table in the corner of the room, the atmosphere subtly shifted. The sweet scent of ripe fruit lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the tension that was slowly building between them. The weight of the conversation Liandrin had been preparing for pressed in on them both.

“You need to be prepared for what’s coming.” she said, her voice low, carrying a seriousness that matched the gravity of her words. “Leane is pushing to accelerate your test. It’s likely a set-up.”

Nesta stilled, her fingers brushing over the edge of her cup. “She’s always had it out for me.” Nesta calmly stated.

Liandrin’s gaze softened, but the edge of worry didn’t leave her features. “Leane is playing a dangerous game. She won’t just test you, she’ll exploit every weakness you have. If you don’t have a plan... If we don’t have a plan.” she continued.

Nesta’s hand tightened around her cup, the porcelain cold under her fingers, as the reality of what Liandrin said still struck a chord deep inside her. “I won’t fail.” she met Liandrin’s eyes, her expression softening in the vulnerable silence between them.

Liandrin reached for the fruit bowl and picked up a peach, slicing it into small pieces. She slid one slice toward Nesta with a gentle smile. “You won’t.” she said, the warmth of her voice cutting through the tension. “I’m here to help you, but you need to be honest and open with me. You need to let me help you, Nesta.”

“I understand. Push me harder, train me more. I will follow your orders and I will learn. I promise.” she replied, her voice steady.

Liandrin’s gaze softened even further, and she nodded approvingly. Her fingers lingered on the table for a moment, almost as if she were taking in the sincerity of Nesta’s words. "Good." she murmured, the tone in her voice one of both praise and a promise.

The words hung in the air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Nesta allowed to let the weight of everything she was carrying rest for a moment. She had always fought alone, but now, as Liandrin’s steady presence anchored her, she realized it didn’t have to be that way.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They simply sat in the quiet comfort of each other’s company. Eventually, the Red Sister stood up, her hand brushing against the back of Nesta’s chair as she moved to collect the dishes.

“If we’re going to deal with Leane, you’ll need all the strength you can muster. But you also need to be prepared to lean on others. No one wins these battles alone.” Liandrin said, her voice light.

Nesta nodded, a sense of gratitude swelling within her chest.

“We both deserve some rest. A nice warm bath should be good for the start.” Liandrin continued, her tone unyielding.

It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order, one that left no room for argument.

There was a flicker of surprise in Nesta’s chest, as the certainty in Liandrin’s voice, the way she made the decision for them both, felt comforting in a way Nesta hadn’t expected. She found herself wanting to obey, to give in to the pull of Liandrin’s confidence and control.

The younger woman hesitated for only a moment, before she found herself nodding. “I suppose I could use one.” she replied, her voice quiet but with a hint of admiration in it. “You know what’s best.”

Liandrin’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, as she turned toward the door. “I do, come.” 

-

The water embraced them both, steam curling into the air as Liandrin sank into the tub, her body moving with practiced ease. Despite the layers of scars that marred her skin, her body remained striking, toned, strong, a testament to the battles she had fought and the strength she had honed over the years. The scars, which covered parts of her shoulders and back, told stories of survival, of a life lived on the edge of danger. Yet, even beneath the markings of hardship, there was an undeniable beauty in the way her muscles shifted beneath her skin. The quiet grace with which she carried herself.

She settled into the water with a sigh of relief, the heat wrapping around her like a comforting embrace. With a soft movement, she positioned herself between Nesta’s legs, her back pressing lightly against the girl’s chest.

The position left no room for distance, and the intimacy of it hit Nesta in waves, making her breath catch in her throat.

Liandrin let herself relax, a rare sight, her body melting against the other. Nesta could feel every curve, every muscle, every scar that marked the woman's skin. Her presence, her warmth, filled the space, pushing away any remaining hesitation. There was no mistaking the subtle weight of her body, nor the way her breathing slowed, syncing with Nesta’s as the tension between them softened.

“Let me help you.” The words felt foreign at first, but as they left Nesta’s lips, she realized how much she meant them. There was a quiet plea in her voice, a desire to be the one to care of Liandrin, to touch her in a way that felt personal and intimate at the same time.

The older woman’s gaze softened for a moment, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles before she handed the soap to Nesta. “Then do it.”

Nesta took the soap, her fingers trembling slightly as she dipped it into the water, lathering it between her hands before bringing them gently to Liandrin’s back. Her touch was slow at first, but soon her hands moved with purpose over the smooth skin, tracing the lines of muscles beneath and the softness of the water over her skin.

Liandrin’s breath hitched at the first touch, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she relaxed into it, her muscles easing as Nesta moved slowly over her body. The soap-slicked motion of Nesta’s hands felt so tender, as if she were worshipping her. Paying extra care to every inch of her body.

As Nesta moved in closer, her hands found their way to Liandrin’s hips. It was in that moment that she let her hands drift lower, brushing against the delicate skin. There was no denying the pull between them, the undeniable heat that surged through the air, mixing with the steam.

Liandrin’s breath quickened, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned back into Nesta, her body responding to the touch with a soft hum. 

Finally, Nesta’s hands moved up to Liandrin’s chest, gently lathering the soap along her body. As she did, her fingers brushed over the sensitive skin in just the right way, and Liandrin let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

The sound sent a thrill through Nesta, and she couldn't stop herself from pressing a little closer, her own heart beating wildly in her chest.

Liandrin tilted her head back, her lips parting in a soft gasp, her breath mingling with Nesta’s. “You’re doing well, Lioness.” she murmured, her voice low.

There was no mistaking the praise in the Aes Sedai’s voice. A fierce pride burned in Nesta's chest. She wanted to do more for Liandrin, to bring her that same pleasure and comfort she had never allowed herself to feel.

With gentle movements, she rinsed the soap from Liandrin’s body, her hands caressing her skin as the water cascaded down her. When she was done, she let her hands linger for a moment longer, feeling the warmth of their shared space.

“You’re tense.” Nesta murmured, her lips brushing the shell of Liandrin’s ear.

Her own breath hitched as her hands slid farther down, her fingertips tracing delicate patterns along the curve of the woman's body, inching ever closer to her core.

Liandrin let out a soft, appreciative hum, her body leaning fully back into the girl's embrace, while Nesta moved with purpose now.

Her touch purposeful as she brushed against the most sensitive areas. She could feel the Liandrin’s breath quickening, her body responding eagerly to the attention. The water sloshed around them, the sound of it mingling with the rhythmic pulse of their hearts.

Liandrin let out a breathless sigh as Nesta’s hand brushed the spot, causing her to shiver. “You are more skilled, than I anticipated.” She whispered, her voice laced with a hunger that matched the intensity of the moment.

Nesta’s chest tightened with pride, the words fueling her to go further. She wasn’t sure where this was taking them, but in this moment, it felt like she was exactly where she needed to be.

With deliberate slowness, Nesta pushed two fingers inside, stretching Liandrin open with ruthless precision, savoring the way her body clenched around them.

Liandrin arched, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat as Nesta's thumb found her clit, rubbing tight, insistent circles. The Aes Sedai's thighs tightened, as if trying to trap Nesta there, to keep her fingers buried deep. And water sloshed violently over the edges of the tub as Liandrin rocked against her hand, chasing pleasure with desperate need.

“Look at you.” Nesta growled, nipping at her shoulder, dragging her teeth just hard enough to make Liandrin shudder. “So perfect like this. Taking everything I give you.”

Liandrin’s head tipped back, her eyes fluttering closed, the muscles in her neck tightening with each tender movement from the girl. A quiet moan escaped her lips, as her fingers gripped the edge of the tub.

She let out another sharp gasp as the pleasure continued to build. But then, Liandrin’s body tensed, her back arching, her eyes squeezing shut as she reached her peak. A breathless moan escaped her lips, “Nesta…”

The younger woman added the third finger, stretching her, filling her completely, her pace relentless. "Come for me." she commanded.

In that brief instant, Liandrin’s mind faltered. A wave of heat rushed through her body, not just from the pleasure, but from the rawness of the connection she shared with Nesta. She hadn't expected to feel so exposed, so vulnerable under girl’s touch. Her heart raced in a way she hadn't experienced in years, and for the first time in a long time, she couldn't control it.

Nesta leaned in, her breath warm and steady against Liandrin’s neck, the scent of her skin mixing with the soft fragrance of the water. Her lips brushed lightly over the woman’s skin, the touch almost reverent, savoring the feel of her closeness.

“You sound extraordinary, Lia.” Nesta teased, her voice a low whisper, sending a shiver down Liandrin’s spine.

The Aes Sedai’s lips curled into a smile, her eyes darkening with an unmistakable fire. “Careful, pet. You might find that I’m more than you bargained for.” she purred, her voice dripping with amusement.

Still pressed against Nesta’s front, she let out a breath of relief, as though the moment had taken something heavy off her shoulders. Her voice was barely a whisper as she turned her head slightly, her lips brushing Nesta’s cheek. “Now, wash my hair.” Her words were a command, but there was no mistaking the underlying playfulness in her tone.

A slight grin tugged at the corners of Nesta’s mouth. “Yes, Mistress.” she said, her voice teasing. The title felt right in this moment, the playful submission to Liandrin's control something she didn’t mind now.

Liandrin raised an eyebrow at the title, her lips curling into a bemused smile. “Mistress? Really?” she scoffed.

Nesta chuckled softly, she could tell Liandrin was enjoying the teasing, enjoying the way she responded to her control.

The touch of Liandrin’s hair felt like silk between her fingers, and as she began to work the shampoo through the golden locks, she couldn’t help but marvel at the delicate balance of strength and softness in the woman beneath her hands.

With each stroke, she massaged the lather into Liandrin’s scalp, her fingertips moving in slow circles, knowing it was more than just a simple gesture. It was an offering, a way to show her care for the woman who had so carefully guarded her own vulnerabilities.

Nesta's hands paused as she finished rinsing the soap out of hair, but instead of pulling back, she let her fingers linger along the curve of Liandrin’s neck, tracing the delicate skin there.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Liandrin murmured, the sharp edge of her usual command slipping in as she opened her eyes to meet Nesta’s.

Nesta met her gaze with a grin. "You're irresistible when you give orders." she replied, her voice filled with affection.

Liandrin’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. There was no mistaking the possessive gleam in her eyes now. "I thought you'd be enjoying this more than the usual obedience, Nesta." Her voice dipped, low and playful. "You like the way I take charge, don’t you?"

Nesta leaned in just a little closer, her breath warm against Liandrin’s ear as she whispered, “Maybe...”

The words left her lips with ease, and Liandrin’s smirk grew. She tilted her head, her fingers grazing over Nesta’s wrist in a quick gesture. “Be honest, pet.” she replied sharply.

Nesta shivered at the sharpness in Liandrin’s voice. A part of her felt vulnerable, but the rest of her reveled in it, embracing the commanding side of Liandrin that made her feel both secure and excited.

“You make me want to submit.” Nesta replied softly.

Liandrin’s smile deepened, her blue eyes locking onto Nesta’s with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. “Good.”

-

As the final droplets of water fell away from Liandrin’s skin, the quiet warmth between them felt undeniable. Nesta watched her, noticing how unguarded Liandrin was in this private space. Away from the eyes of others, where only she and Nesta existed.

The younger woman took a step forward, with a towel in hand, and spoke with care. "Here, let me."

Liandrin’s eyes opened at the sound of Nesta’s voice, her lips curling into a smile. "You seem so eager to please me today." she teased, though there was a softness in her voice that she didn’t bother to hide.

Nesta stood for a moment, her gaze lingering on the woman. The water glistened in Liandrin’s golden hair, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. There was something breathtaking about her. She seemed strong and delicate at the same time. The woman who commanded respect, who was always poised and in control, was now completely relaxed, free from the usual tension.

With a gentle motion, Nesta began drying Liandrin’s shoulders, her hands careful, firm, as she traced over every inch of skin, savoring the softness beneath the towel.

“I didn’t expect to see this side of you, the Nesta who isn’t constantly fighting back.” Liandrin murmured, her voice quiet, almost in awe.

The girl hesitated, her hands lingering on Liandrin’s back, tracing the lines of muscle and delicate curves. “I don’t always have to fight, Liandrin.” Nesta said.

She took in the way Liandrin looked at her, her sharp features softened by the intimacy of the moment, and she knew this wasn’t just about the act of drying her skin. "I’m just here, with you..."

Liandrin’s eyes darkened, her lips curving into a soft smile as she realized the meaning of Nesta’s words.

She turned around, her breath steady as she brought her hand to the back of Nesta’s neck, gently pulling her closer. "And you’re mine, Nesta. You belong to me, in every way that matters." she said, her voice smooth and commanding.

The intensity of Liandrin’s words washed over Nesta like a wave. She felt the possessivenevoice the Aes Sedai’s voice. There was something deeply comforting about being claimed like this. Nesta had never thought she would allow, never imagined she would let anyone have so much power over her. But with Liandrin, it felt right.

Liandrin's fingers gently traced over Nesta’s cheek. "I never expected to grow soft with anyone, but I might be growing soft with you." she murmured, her voice a soft admission.

The words hung in the air, and Nesta truly felt the depth of Liandrin’s vulnerability. An openness that she had never thought possible from someone so guarded.

Without another thought, Nesta leaned in, capturing Liandrin’s lips in a kiss that was filled with the intensity of everything they had shared in that moment.

Liandrin’s lips parted slightly, and with a sudden, teasing shift, she bit Nesta’s lower lip, the pressure enough to draw a soft moan.

The sharp bite sent a jolt of heat through the girl’s chest, and she responded, her hands gripping Liandrin’s sides, deepening the kiss as the taste of her lingered on her tongue.

The kiss was a final wordless confirmation of everything they were becoming to one another.

-

The warmth of the bath still lingered on their skin as they lay together on the couch, wrapped in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. For once Liandrin wasn’t commanding or teasing. She was simply there, allowing herself to be cared for and Nesta found it oddly satisfying. They didn’t need words, but eventually, Nesta broke the silence. “I’ve made my decision.” she said softly, her fingers still combing through golden hair.

Blue eyes fluttered open, but Liandrin didn’t move, as if she already knew what Nesta was going to say. “Oh?”

Nesta exhaled, feeling the weight of the choice settle fully on her now that she was saying it aloud. “I’ll choose the Red Ajah.”

A slow, satisfied smile curled on Liandrin's lips, and she shifted just enough to look up at Nesta, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Good, that’s where you belong.” she murmured, her voice laced with approval.

There was something possessive in the way Liandrin said it. The idea of belonging to her Ajah didn’t feel like a loss of control. If anything, it felt as she finally had a chance for becoming more powerful.

The older woman reached up, her fingers brushing over Nesta’s wrist, her touch firm. “You were always meant to be one of us and you were always meant to be mine.” she continued, with a note of pride in her tone.

Nesta didn’t argue. Instead, she leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to Liandrin’s temple. “I think I like the sound of that.” she admitted.

Liandrin hummed in satisfaction, her eyes half-lidded in a rare moment of pure contentment. But then, with a sly smile, she reached up, threading her fingers through Nesta’s hair and giving a light tug. “Of course you do, I don’t take you for a fool.” she teased.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Nesta let out a breathy chuckle, shaking her head.

“Not when it comes to you.” Liandrin said, her smirk softening at the edges. She lifted her fingers, brushing them lightly over Nesta’s jaw, her thumb tracing over the curve of her cheek. “I should scold you for taking such pleasure in my approval.”

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “And yet, you won’t.”

Liandrin’s lips curled. “No. Honestly, I rather like it.” Her fingers slipped lower, trailing down the length of Nesta’s neck before coming to rest just above her collarbone. “And I think you like it even more.”

Nesta felt a warm thrill pulse through her, but she only tilted her head, meeting Liandrin’s gaze with a knowing smirk. “You do realize I’m humoring you, right?”

“Mmm, whatever helps you sleep at night, darling.” Lia chuckled, before shifting to press a fleeting kiss on Nesta's neck.

-

Liandrin had drifted closer after their conversation, settling herself against Nesta, her head resting comfortably in the crook of the girl's shoulder. It had happened so naturally, so quietly, that Nesta hadn’t even noticed at first. The movement was fluid, like they had done this a thousand times before. Liandrin’s body pressed gently against hers, and with each steady breath, she could feel the tension in Liandrin’s form ebbing away. The only sound was the quiet rustle of pages as Nesta turned them, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface of the book.

Liandrin’s breath came slow and even, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against Nesta’s body. The openness and vulnerability in Liandrin's attitude had awaken something within Nesta's protective side. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she would follow Liandrin to the darkest abyss if it meant being by her side.

Nestled into the couch, she turned her gaze toward Liandrin’s sleeping face, taking in the delicate curve of her lips, the soft line of her jaw. The sharp, commanding edge she was used to seeing on Liandrin had softened completely in her sleep, replaced by an almost ethereal calmness. 

Her heart gave a subtle, imperceptible thrum, a quiet acknowledgment of the growing connection between them. She hadn’t expected to be here, to feel this way. The moments they shared, the moments that once felt like a dangerous dance of power had started to change, to soften.

Liandrin’s head shifted slightly in her sleep, pressing even closer, and for the briefest moment, Nesta closed her eyes, her own breath evening out in the shared silence. In that moment, there was nothing else. Just the quiet intimacy of two souls intertwined in a way neither had expected.

-

The quiet hum of their connection lingered in the air, as the evening settled into a peaceful stillness. The soft glow of the candlelight flickered in the dimly lit room, casting dancing shadows across the bed. Liandrin lay beside Nesta, her body warm from their shared intimacy.

But as the stillness deepened, Nesta’s gaze inevitably drifted to the scars that marred Liandrin’s skin. Her eyes, drawn almost magnetically, traced the lines of faded marks, the jagged edges of old wounds that still told stories of battles fought and sacrifices made. These weren’t just scars. They were memories. The evidence of pain.

Each scar was like a map of Liandrin’s past. Some faint, barely visible, others more pronounced, the skin puckered and uneven, reminders of the wars she had waged, both on the outside and within. There was the deep, twisting scar running along Liandrin’s ribs, the one she rarely allowed anyone to see. The one that had been earned in a dark, bitter struggle, both physical and emotional. Nesta’s fingers itched to touch it, to trace the path of the pain it represented.

Liandrin had always been a mystery to her, guarded and strong, yet these scars spoke volumes about the vulnerability that lay just beneath the surface. In this moment, in the quiet safety of their bed, Nesta saw Liandrin not as the powerful Aes Sedai, but as the woman she truly was. She saw the parts of her that she had fought to protect. They were part of the woman she had come to care for so deeply.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Nesta reached out, her fingertips brushing against the skin near Liandrin’s shoulder. The contact was light, gentle, more a question than an action, as though she wasn’t sure how the older woman would respond. But Liandrin didn’t pull away. Instead, she seemed to relax even more, her breathing steady, as if she trusted Nesta with the pieces of herself she had always kept hidden.

Nesta’s fingers traced the first scar, which was thin, long, and fading into the curve of Liandrin’s shoulder. She felt the softness of the skin, that was a stark contrast to the terrible memory of the wound. She could almost feel the pain that Liandrin had endured to survive.

Without thinking, Nesta leaned in, her lips soft against the scar. The taste of Liandrin’s skin was salty with sweat, warm from the lingering heat of their bodies, and as she kissed the scar, it felt like a vow. It was a worship of everything Liandrin had been through, everything she was now. Each scar, each mark, was a testament to her strength.

Suddenly, Liandrin’s breath hitched and Nesta felt a shiver run through her. She pulled back slightly, just enough to catch the flicker of emotion in blue eyes.

Liandrin's eyes softened, letting the vulnerability be visible, yet full of a fierce intensity.

As Nesta continued, her lips tracing each scar with deliberate care, she could feel the unspoken burden of it all. Liandrin wasn’t just allowing her to touch these parts of herself, she was offering them, letting Nesta into the deepest parts of her soul.

She kissed the deep, curved scar that ran across Liandrin’s torso The mark was darker, more pronounced. She could almost imagine the agony of it, how it must have felt when the pain was fresh, when Liandrin had been forced to endure it.

And then, she kissed the biggest scar. The one that ran along the length of Liandrin’s ribcage and hip. It was a scar that Liandrin rarely allowed anyone to see, a reminder of the battle that had nearly broken her. But to Nesta, it wasn’t a weakness, but the mark of power. She pressed her lips to it, lingering there as if to offer a promise. A vow of acceptance, of love, of standing by her no matter what.

The Aes Sedai’s body shuddered slightly beneath the girl’s touch and when Nesta pulled back, she rested her forehead resting against Liandrin’s shoulder.

“No one’s ever done this before. No one’s ever cared enough to see me like this.” Liandrin’s voice, soft and almost fragile, broke the silence.

Nesta’s heart ached and she pulled her closer, her lips finding Liandrin’s in a gentle kiss.

“I care more than you know and with each day, I will keep proving it to you.” Nesta whispered.

Liandrin’s hand came up to touch the girl's cheek, her fingers brushing over the line of her jaw with a tenderness that surprised them both.

There was something exposed in Liandrin’s gaze. As if, in this moment, she was laying herself bare in a way that was both terrifying and comforting.

Nesta embraced both the darkness and the light, the power and the vulnerability, that meant being with Liandrin. "I’ll follow you anywhere, Lia. Even into the darkness." Her voice was quiet but firm.

Liandrin’s lips curved into a soft smile. “You’re mine and I’m yours. All of me.” she murmured, her voice thick with possessiveness.

Nesta’s heart swelled with a mix of emotions, and she knew, without a doubt, that she would fight anyone just to be by her side. One of the most powerful and feared Aes Sedai had laid her scars bare and in doing so, Liandrin had already claimed her heart.

[nestadevries]

- Donna Tartt

[nestadevries]

Chapter 5 | The Weight Of Her Touch

It's a long chapter with two spicy scenes... - around 9k words.

The golden light of dawn spilled through the window, warming the sheets as Nesta stirred. Her body ached, muscles stiff from the yesterday but what truly held her captive was the slow, rhythmic breath against her neck. Warm, steady, and possessive. Liandrin’s arms were still wrapped around her, nails pressing into Nesta’s skin as if even in sleep, she refused to let go.

Nesta exhaled softly, shifting just enough to test Liandrin’s hold. The reaction was immediate, a low hum from behind her, a tightening of Liandrin’s grip, fingers flexing against her hip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Liandrin’s voice was thick with sleep. Her lips brushed against Nesta’s shoulder as she spoke, slow and deliberate, like she was savoring the feeling of having Nesta so close.

The girl turned her head slightly, just enough to catch the edges of Liandrin’s face in her peripheral vision. “Didn’t realize I was being held hostage.” she murmured, teasing.

“You are and you seem to enjoy it.” The older woman whispered, her lips skimming along the curve of Nesta’s neck, dragging heat in their wake.

Nesta inhaled sharply, a shiver running down her spine as Liandrin’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along her waist. 

She slightly tilted her head back, an invitation and a challenge all at once. “I don’t remember surrendering.”

Liandrin shifted, her body pressing flush against Nesta’s. “Oh, darling, you don’t have to say it. I can feel your body.” she purred, voice dripping with amusement.

The younger woman barely had time to react before Liandrin moved. In a single, fluid motion, she rolled them over, pinning Nesta beneath her. The shift was effortless, her body pressing the girl into the mattress, their legs tangling together.

Nesta’s breath hitched as the Aes Sedai loomed over her, eyes dark and filled with quiet hunger. “You think you can just take control?” she challenged, lifting her chin.

Liandrin smirked, her hand slipping up Nesta’s throat, fingers curling around the sides in a firm yet teasing grip. She applied just enough pressure to make Nesta’s breath catch, enough to remind her exactly who was in control.

“I don’t think, I know.” Liandrin corrected, leaning in until their lips almost brushed, her breath warm against Nesta’s mouth.

A thrill shot through the girl, heat pooling low in her belly at the way Liandrin’s dominance settled over her like an unshakable force. She could push or fight, but she already knew how this would end. The power dynamic between them was a constant battle, but right now, the older woman had the upper hand and she knew exactly how to wield it.

Liandrin’s lips found the sensitive spot just beneath the ear, she bit down hard enough to make Nesta gasp, knowing it would leave a mark.

“You like leaving your mark on me.” Nesta accused, her voice barely more than a breath.

The Red Sister hummed in satisfaction, dragging her tongue over the fresh bruise she’d just made. “I do.” she admitted without shame. “I want everyone to see that you belong to me.”

The words sent another rush of heat through the girl, her body reacting before she could think. And Liandrin felt it, sensed the way Nesta’s breath stuttered, the way her thighs clenched together.

She shifted, sliding one thigh between Nesta’s legs, pressing it firmly against the growing heat there and Nesta couldn’t stop the way her hips bucked instinctively, grinding against the pressure.

A wicked smile curled on Liandrin’s lips. “Oh, pet, look at you.” she teased, rolling her hips just enough to make Nesta shudder.

She bit her lip, refusing to give in so easily. But Liandrin was relentless. Her hands roamed lower, nails scraping along ribs before settling on Nesta’s hips, holding her in place as she moved against her.

“Still want to pretend you’re in control?” Liandrin taunted, her voice smooth, laced with amusement and hunger.

Nesta opened her mouth, ready to retort, but the words died on her tongue as Liandrin’s fingers slid lower, slipping beneath the thin fabric between them. One slow stroke along her wetness, then another, teasing, exploring.

Her breath hitched. “Lia...”

But Liandrin didn’t let her finish. With a slow, deliberate push, she slipped two fingers inside, drawing a deep, shuddering gasp from Nesta’s lips.

“Mine.” Liandrin whispered against her ear, curling her fingers just right. “Say it.”

Nesta’s fingers dug into Liandrin’s shoulders, pleasure making her body tremble. She wanted to fight it, wanted to push back, but she was drowning in the sensation, in the way Liandrin touched her like she already owned every part of her.

Liandrin’s pace quickened, her thumb circling over the most sensitive part of Nesta with perfect precision, as the girl’s body betrayed her, arching, chasing the pleasure that built higher and higher. 

The older woman applied even more pressure to make Nesta's body tense, but then easing off, leaving her breathless and desperate.

The rhythmic torment stretched on, drawing soft gasps from the Nesta, her hands gripping the sheets as if they could anchor her.

"Say it." Liandrin whispered, her voice low and laced with satisfaction. She saw the way Nesta’s body begged for release, poor mind struggling against the intensity.

She repeated again, her breath hot against Nesta’s neck. “Say it.”

Nesta’s resolve shattered. “Yours.” she gasped, her head falling back against the pillows. “I’m yours.”

Liandrin let out a satisfied hum, her mouth trailing back to Nesta’s throat, kissing over the marks she’d left. “Good girl.” she praised, her fingers never slowing. “Now come for me.”

And Nesta did, with Liandrin’s name on her lips and her body trembling beneath her touch. Liandrin held her through it, kissing her softly.

When the waves of pleasure finally ebbed, Nesta found herself looking up at Liandrin, her breath still uneven, her body wrecked.

The older woman smirked, a dark satisfaction pooling in her chest as she watched Nesta’s disheveled state, her face flushed and her body trembling. She had pushed her to the edge, felt the moment of complete surrender, and the power of it lingered in the air, crackling between them. There was something intoxicating about seeing Nesta so vulnerable, so completely undone under her control.

Pressing one last, lingering kiss to Nesta’s lips, Liandrin pulled back slightly, letting the moment stretch between them. She saw the flicker of need in Nesta’s eyes, the way she struggled to steady her breath, and a mix of affection with possessiveness filled Liandrin's chest. 

“Get used to it.” she whispered, her voice low, but underneath, there was a quiet challenge. Not just to Nesta, but to herself. She was beginning to want more than just this power over her. And that realization thrilled her more than she cared to admit.

Nesta’s breath caught, her chest rising and falling erratically as the words echoed in her mind. There was a magnetic force that kept drawing her back to the woman who controlled her every breath, every movement. But she craved more. She wanted to see how far Liandrin would push her, what else she could make her feel.

The weight of Liandrin’s body against her was so warm, that she couldn’t bring herself to move. Their legs were still tangled, Liandrin’s fingers absentmindedly tracing over her hip as their breaths slowly evened out. “I hope your kiss will leave a mark, as a reminder that I am yours.” she murmured.

Liandrin stilled against her. Yours. The word thundered in Liandrin’s mind, sending a sharp jolt of possessiveness through her chest. Nesta had said it so softly and easily, without any effort. She had never been given ownership over anything that mattered. And yet this girl, in her endless defiance, in her infuriating presence, had just handed herself over without hesitation.

A fire surged inside Liandrin, searing and overwhelming. It wasn’t just possession, wasn’t just the need to claim. It was deeper than that. A desperate, insatiable hunger to be worthy of it. Of Nesta’s trust, of her devotion, of that rare piece of herself she so rarely surrendered.

The younger woman met her eyes, unflinching. The confession had slipped out before she could think, but she didn’t regret it.

Liandrin’s fingers ghosted over the fresh marks she had left along Nesta's neck. “Oh, Lioness, you don’t have to hope.” she murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction. Her lips brushed over the bruise she had made earlier, the touch almost reverent. “It will be there.”

Nesta’s stomach tightened at the promise in those words. For once, there was no teasing, no power play. Just a quiet certainty.

The Aes Sedai finally leaned back, settling against Nesta’s body, her front pressing into her, as she felt Nesta’s fingers move. Soft, gentle strokes, tracing along her bare back until she stopped.

Nesta’s fingers stilled as she traced over something uneven.

Liandrin tensed. The moment Nesta’s touch lingered, something inside her coiled tight, instinct screaming at her to pull away, to shift, to bury herself under the protective layer of indifference she always wore.

She was waiting for the question. The inevitable curiosity, the probing words that always came when someone noticed. The demand to know where, when, and how. The wounds she had learned to ignore, to carry without complaint. And she feared more than she cared to admit, that Nesta would ask her. That she would force her to remember it again.

But Nesta didn’t speak, didn’t question. Just touched.

Soft, slow strokes, tracing over every scar, every mark Liandrin had collected over the years. Nesta’s fingers mapped them like they weren’t imperfections but something worth knowing, worth memorizing.

Some were old, faded with time, while others were fresher, standing out starkly against her pale skin. And they were everywhere. Her arms, her sides, her back... Liandrin’s body was a map of pain, of battles fought and wounds endured.

Her breath was shallow. No one had ever done this before. No one had ever touched her like this, not with hunger, not with reverence, but with care. As if she wasn’t just a weapon, just something sharp and dangerous to wield, but something worth holding.

She hated how exposed she felt. Hated how easily Nesta stripped her bare, not just physically, but in every way that mattered. And yet, she didn’t stop her.

Nesta’s voice was quiet and steady. “You are the most beautiful woman I know.”

The older woman’s stomach twisted violently. She wanted to scoff, to roll her eyes, to do something to break the suffocating weight of those words. But she couldn’t. Not when she saw the way Nesta looked at her. There was no mockery, no pity, just truth in her gaze.

Liandrin had spent a lifetime mastering the art of deception, of knowing when someone’s words were nothing more than a lie dressed in honey. But this wasn’t a lie and It terrified her even more. 

Nesta held her gaze, unwavering, letting the weight of her words settle.

And for once, Liandrin didn’t fight it. Didn’t mask it with arrogance or deflection. She just let herself be seen.

-

The sun had risen high in the sky, casting soft rays through the curtains that fluttered with the morning breeze. The quiet, lingering warmth of the bed between them had faded, leaving the space filled with the soft rustle of fabric and the occasional shift of weight as they both moved to get dressed.

Nesta, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed, tugged a blouse over her head and glanced at Liandrin, who was fastening a dark, tailored corset that tightened around her waist with ease, as though she had done it a thousand times before. The sight of Liandrin’s fingers working the delicate laces filled Nesta’s chest with a quiet admiration.

Before she could think too much about it, she stood up and took a few steps toward the older woman, offering her assistance without a second thought. “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice steady but softer than usual, the hint of curiosity threading through her words.

Nesta knew Liandrin could manage, but there was something in her that simply wanted to be closer, to offer that small kindness, even if it was something as trivial as fastening a corset. The vulnerability she’d seen in Liandrin the night before still lingered in the air between them, and for once, Nesta didn't feel as if she needed to keep her distance.

The Aes Sedai cleared her throat, trying to mask the surprise she felt. She couldn’t let Nesta see how it affected her, how the sudden closeness made her pulse quicken. "I’m capable of fastening my own corset." she said, her tone light, but there was an almost imperceptible tightness in her voice, betraying a fraction of her inner turmoil.

But Nesta didn’t move away. She simply stepped closer, her hands reaching for the laces with determination.

Liandrin's breath hitched slightly, as the shift of Nesta’s proximity sent an unexpected warmth flooding her chest.

The younger woman took the final step forward and, in one fluid motion, gently took hold of the laces. “Let me.” she said again, more firmly this time. Her hands were steady as she worked the corset, fingers brushing against the fabric.

For a brief moment, Liandrin found herself utterly still, feeling the delicate touch of Nesta’s hands as they carefully adjusted the corset. The softness of her fingers against the laces was at odds with the sharpness Liandrin was used to from everyone around her. She had never been so close to anyone who didn’t fear her, who didn’t see her as something to be avoided or admired from afar. Nesta didn’t look at her with the same cold detachment that everyone else did.

The proximity between them felt very intimate, and yet Liandrin found herself unwilling to pull away, her mind spinning in a whirl of unexpected emotions.

When Nesta stepped back, a soft, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Liandrin's lips, a genuine expression of gratitude that wasn’t hidden beneath her usual mask of composure. The softness of the smile wasn’t something she typically offered but for once, she let herself acknowledge the small kindness, that Nesta had offered.

Liandrin straightened herself, but the smile lingered just a little longer than usual, a warmth in her gaze that wasn’t easily wiped away.

But inside, something had shifted again. Nesta had crossed another line and though Liandrin would never admit it aloud, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the distance between them was becoming smaller with every passing moment.

“When is the next training?” Nesta asked, her voice breaking the silence that had settled between them, a sharpness returning to her tone as she adjusted her sleeve.

Liandrin paused, still catching her breath, her eyes briefly meeting Nesta’s before she replied, “Return to my quarters right before the sunset.”

Nesta blinked, surprise flashing across her face. “Your quarters?” She hadn’t expected that. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

Liandrin turned slightly, finishing the last of her adjustments with a practiced grace. “Yes, it’s better suited for the work we’ll be doing. And it’s the only place where we won’t be disturbed.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her mind racing with the implications.

Liandrin’s lips curved into a faint smile, a touch of the usual slyness returning to her eyes, but there was something more genuine about it now. “Don’t be late.”

-

Nesta walked through the hall of the White Tower, her footsteps light but deliberate, the usual tension of the place hanging in the air as always. The faint murmur of voices and the soft rustle of robes echoed off the walls as she moved, but she was lost in her thoughts, her mind still lingering on the morning's events.

As she turned a corner, her gaze caught sight of two figures at the far end of the hall. Liandrin stood facing Leane, her posture stiff and rigid, her chin held high in that familiar defiant way Nesta had come to recognize. Despite the obvious height difference between them, Liandrin didn't shrink away. Her back was straight, shoulders squared, everything about her was controlled, keeping Leane at arm's length. 

Her face was unreadable from this distance, but Nesta noticed the slight tension in her body, the subtle clench of her jaw. Leane, in contrast, was taller, her demeanor sharp and imposing, but it was clear that whatever they were discussing, Liandrin wasn’t backing down.

Nesta stopped in her tracks for a moment, her attention drawn to the subtle power struggle unfolding. She couldn’t hear their words, and perhaps she didn’t need to. The visual exchange was enough to tell her there was something more at play here.

With a quiet exhale, she shifted her gaze away, continuing on her path. The sound of her footsteps filled the space as she walked further down the hall, her mind slowly shifting back to other matters, leaving the quiet tension between Liandrin and Leane behind for now.

-

The Red Aes Sedai stood in the hall, her back straight and her chin held high, staring at Leane with an intensity that belied the subtle tension in her body. The height difference between them was glaring, but it wasn’t the first time Liandrin had dealt with it, and it wouldn’t be the last. She’d learned long ago that physical presence alone didn’t dictate power.

Leane’s voice was sharp, as always, and it grated on Liandrin’s nerves like a thousand tiny pinpricks. “You can’t keep avoiding the matter forever. It’s not just about your training anymore.”

Liandrin’s jaw tightened, but her expression remained impassive. She wasn’t about to let the Blue Sister pressure her into making decisions before she was ready. “I’m not avoiding anything, but I will handle this on my terms.” she replied, her voice cool and measured.

“We can’t afford to wait any longer, Liandrin. The test for Nesta needs to happen sooner rather than later. The longer you delay, the harder it will be to maintain control.”

“I don’t believe rushing her is the right approach. Nesta needs more time to prepare. She’s capable, but pushing her too soon risks everything. If we want her to pass, she needs to be ready. I’m not going to risk her failure simply because we’re trying to prove a point.”

Leane’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening with impatience. “You’re being sentimental. This isn’t about preparing her, it’s about getting her out of the way. She doesn’t belong here.”

“I’m not about to let you sabotage her chances just to prove a point.”

“And what is it that you see in her, Liandrin? You’re taking it too personally, and it’s clouding your judgment. She’s an obstacle. A distraction. You’re only making it harder on yourself by getting involved.” Leane’s lips curled into a thin smile, but it was more venom than pleasure.

“Nesta will pass the test, and you have no say in that.” Liandrin’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous tone, a warning in her words.

“We’ll see, won’t we? Time is running out for your pet. You can’t protect her forever.” Leane took a step closer, her presence imposing, but Liandrin didn’t flinch.

She stared at her. “I’m not protecting her. I’m giving her what she needs to succeed. You can either trust me on this, or you can continue to push her into failure. But make no mistake, I'll make sure that she passes."

Leane’s eyes flashed with anger, but she simply turned away, her steps sharp against the stone floor. “We’ll see.”

-

Nesta’s footsteps echoed in the hall, the sound too loud in the silence that enveloped Liandrin’s quarters. She hesitated at the door for a moment before stepping inside, her eyes scanning the room quickly. Liandrin stood near the center, already preparing for their session, her posture commanding even in the quiet.

“Nesta, you’re early.” Liandrin greeted her, her tone cool, though there was a subtle softness behind it.

Nesta didn’t rush to speak, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. The events of earlier, Liandrin’s encounter with Leane were still swirling in her mind, and she couldn’t entirely shake the unease. But Liandrin didn’t seem to be bothered by it, her calm demeanor betraying none of the frustration or uncertainty that had flashed in her eyes this afternoon.

She cleared her throat, finally breaking the silence, though her voice was casual, as though she hadn’t been weighing the question. “I saw you talking to Leane earlier. Is everything alright?” she asked, her tone light, but there was a subtle edge in the words. 

“Our conversation wasn’t pleasant. We have very different opinions on a few matters, and we tend to disagree often. But most of the time, we manage to stay civil.”

“What did you talk about?” Nesta asked, curiosity lacing her tone.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about.” Liandrin replied simply.

Nesta hesitated, her gaze lingering on Liandrin, as she noticed the small shift in her posture, as if trying to mask something.

She thought about pressing, but she wasn’t sure if it was the right moment. Instead, she nodded, her voice softer now. “Alright, I trust you.” she simply said.

Liandrin didn’t respond immediately, but the briefest flicker of softness crossed her expression as she looked at Nesta. A wave of gratitude washed over her, but just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, buried under layers of control. She gestured toward the carpet on the floor, her tone firm once more. “We’ll begin with stretching.”

Nesta walked toward the carpet, her thoughts momentarily drifting. There was always something about Liandrin that kept her on edge. The woman was a study in contradictions. She seemed to be utterly controlled, yet with a raw intensity beneath the surface that couldn’t be ignored. It both frustrated and intrigued Nesta. 

As she positioned herself on the floor, stretching her limbs, Liandrin moved behind her with quiet precision, her steps almost soundless. There was a heat to her presence, something that felt like it was pressing down on Nesta’s skin, even though they weren’t touching. It made the air thick, almost suffocating, and it took every ounce of Nesta’s self-control to not glance over her shoulder.

Nesta focused on her stretching, trying to keep her thoughts on task, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of Liandrin’s gaze on her back.

The older woman moved behind her. “You’re holding too much tension.” she murmured.

Without waiting for permission, she placed her hands on Nesta’s shoulders, fingers pressing firmly into the muscle, feeling the way Nesta instinctively tensed under her touch. A smirk ghosted Liandrin’s lips.

"Relax, or this will be much harder for you." she ordered, her grip firm.

Nesta exhaled slowly, trying to loosen her muscles.

“Good girl.” Liandrin murmured, almost absentmindedly, but she felt the way Nesta shivered under her hands. A slow, pleased smile spread across her lips.

Slowly, Liandrin moved around Nesta’s body and crouched in front of her. “Spread your legs.”

Nesta quirked an eyebrow at her but did as instructed, shifting into a wide straddle. Liandrin took her time, enjoying the sight of Nesta pushing herself, waiting for that moment of resistance in her muscles.

Then, she placed her hands on Nesta’s thighs and leaned in, pressing her weight forward just enough to test her flexibility.

Nesta sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flashing with fire.

Liandrin’s voice was a murmur, deceptively soft. “Is that too much?”

"No." Nesta held her gaze. 

Liandrin’s smile was slow, approving, and she pressed a little harder.

“Let’s see just how much you can take.”

Her hands slid lower, fingertips brushing over the sensitive skin at the inner curve of Nesta’s thighs before she applied more pressure.

Nesta’s muscles protested, but she refused to break eye contact, refused to show any weakness. It was a battle of wills now, and Liandrin was thoroughly enjoying it.

“Stubborn.” Liandrin mused. “I wonder if you’ll be just as defiant when I push you further.”

Nesta’s jaw tensed, her competitive nature flaring up at the challenge. “Try me.”

Liandrin’s smirk deepened. Oh, she would.

Again, she shifted position, pressing Nesta down just a fraction more. She watched every reaction, the flicker of determination, the slight quiver in her muscles, the way Nesta bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a sound.

Liandrin leaned in, lowering her voice. “You’re already trembling. What a shame, I thought you were stronger than this.”

Nesta’s eyes burned, her pride flaring. “I can take more.”

“We’ll see about that.” Liandrin chuckled, a dark, indulgent sound.

Her touch grew more deliberate, more teasing. Just a whisper of fingertips ghosting over sensitive skin before adding sharp, precise pressure where it was needed. She was toying with Nesta now, watching the struggle play out in her body.

“Let’s test your patience next.” The Aes Sedai murmured.

Then, with slow, calculated ease, she rose to her feet and crossed the room, retrieving something from a drawer. When she turned back, a length of red silk rope hung loosely from her fingers.

“On your knees.” Liandrin commanded.

The words hit Nesta like a jolt of ice water. She could feel the commanding weight of Liandrin’s gaze. The rope in her hand wasn’t just a physical object. it was a reminder of the control Liandrin was about to wield, and of the test that Nesta wasn’t sure she was ready for.

She remained still, her muscles tensed as if preparing for a fight. Her heart beat heavy in her chest, her breaths coming faster, as if she could outrun the rush of emotions she didn’t want to face. But the Liandrin didn’t flinch, her posture unyielding. 

“I said on your knees, pet.” Liandrin repeated, her tone sharp, as if the words themselves were a command woven into the air between them.

Nesta changed the position with deliberate slowness and kneeled in front of the older woman. Her unwavering gaze made Liandrin’s breath caught up for a brief moment. She could feel the power in the way Nesta didn’t look away.

The girl's lips parted in something between a sneer and a breathless surrender, and Liandrin’s heart gave an almost imperceptible lurch. This wasn’t like any of the other moments she’d orchestrated before.

“Good.” Liandrin purred, her smirk widening with satisfaction as she stepped closer, the red rope still hanging between her fingers like a promise. She knelt in front of Nesta, fingers brushing her chin, tilting her face upward.

The silence stretched taut between them, the only sound the rush of air in and out of their lungs. Liandrin’s blue eyes were intent, studying the girl, watching for any hint of weakness or resistance. At the moment, she was testing more than just Nesta’s patience. She was peeling away her layers, bit by bit, like unraveling a thread.

And yet, despite the power Liandrin wielded in this moment, a small part of her couldn’t help but acknowledge how intimate this moment felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so close to someone, both physically and emotionally. 

“You think you’re strong.” Liandrin murmured, her voice low and dark. “But strength is nothing without control. And control, it’s something you’re still learning, isn’t it?”

Her words were like a challenge, but also a caress, laced with the tension of their shared struggle. She wanted to push Nesta, to break through whatever barriers she had left. But as she looked into those blue eyes, she felt a flicker of doubt. Could she truly dominate someone like her, someone so fiercely independent. Liandrin swallowed that thought quickly, focusing on the moment.

She brought the rope up between them, letting it slip through her fingers as she spoke again, her voice more steady. “This lesson isn’t just for you, Lioness. It’s for both of us.”

Nesta’s eyes never left Liandrin’s. It was almost as if she was daring Liandrin to do what she would. But, there was no submission in Nesta’s eyes, not yet. Just a silent challenge, an invitation to push her even further.

Liandrin reached down and with a quick motion, brought the rope up to wrap around Nesta’s wrists. “Relax.” she commanded, her voice soft but firm, her fingers moving swiftly to secure the knot.

The rope bit into Nesta’s skin, and yet there was something sensual about the restraint.

“This is the moment where you learn to give in.” Liandrin whispered, the words more of a promise than a threat.

Nesta’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t been expecting that, hadn’t anticipated how the touch would feel, how the rope, binding her, would stir something deep inside her. It wasn’t discomfort she felt, though. It was anticipation, a tension that coiled through her body.

She remained silent, but her gaze softened for a fraction of a second, and that small shift didn’t go unnoticed by Liandrin.

As the older woman shifted closer, she tilted her head, eyes narrowing, taking in the sight of Nesta kneeling before her, bound but not broken. The picture before her was both beautiful and dangerous.

“You’re mine now and there is no going back.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Liandrin pressed a hand against Nesta’s shoulder, urging her back gently, bringing their faces close, close enough that their breaths mingled. “I will break you, you know.” Liandrin whispered. “But only because I need you to break.”

Nesta’s eyes searched Liandrin’s face, and in that moment, with a sudden, deliberate movement, the Aes Sedai leaned in, her lips brushing against Nesta’s ear as she breathed, “Open your mouth.” Liandrin’s voice was a quiet command, the intensity in her words burning as she pulled back to meet Nesta’s eyes.

The command pushed at Nesta's carefully constructed walls, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she met Liandrin’s blue eyes with a defiance that held her in place.

“Stick out your tongue, pet.” Liandrin ordered.

The words were sharp, but beneath them lay a challenge wrapped in dominance. Liandrin’s gaze was fixed, daring Nesta to refuse.

And for a moment, it seemed like Nesta might hesitate. But Liandrin’s eyes never wavered, her expression one of absolute certainty. This moment was hers, and Nesta would either bend or break.

Slowly, with the smallest of defiant smiles pulling at her lips, Nesta did as Liandrin commanded. She opened her mouth and extended her tongue.

Liandrin tilted her head to look down at the offered tongue, savoring the power she held and then,  she spat directly onto the tip of the tongue. The act was deliberate, an unmistakable sign of ownership and control.

"Swallow." Liandrin commanded softly, pulling Nesta into her will. It wasn’t just a physical order. There was a psychological weight to it, a demand for compliance that went beyond mere obedience. She was challenging Nesta to surrender, even in the smallest ways.

Nesta swallowed, her throat working to take in the mark Liandrin had left on her.

The woman’s lips curled into a wicked smile, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes as she watched the subtle tremor run through Nesta’s body. “Good, you’re learning.” she purred, her voice thick with approval.

Liandrin gently caressed Nesta’s cheek, as if the moment itself was a reward. 

Nesta had never been forced to confront her desires in such an exposed way before. It wasn’t just her body that was at stake, it was her very identity. Every part of her screamed against the idea of surrendering anything to anyone.

But that was precisely what Liandrin was after, getting under Nesta’s skin, making her question her own instincts. The Red Aes Sedai wasn’t just commanding her to submit. She was inviting her to explore what it meant to give up control without losing herself.

Liandrin grabbed the rope that tied Nesta’s wrists and pulled closer. Her breath warm against the delicate skin, “Now you are truly mine. Your body, your thoughts, all mine to command.” she whispered.

Nesta looked deeply into Liandrin’s eyes.

“Do you understand?” Liandrin’s voice was softer now, coaxing, drawing Nesta in.

Nesta swallowed, as she answered, “Yes.”

Liandrin smiled, the corners of her lips curling with satisfaction. She tugged gently on the rope binding Nesta’s hands “The power isn’t just in your submission, it’s in your willingness to trust me. To let go of control.”

“I understand, Lia.” Nesta murmured, her voice quieter now.

Liandrin’s smirk softened just slightly, her thumb tracing the curve of Nesta’s lower lip. “We'll see." 

She let the words settle between them before her fingers curled into Nesta’s hair and she pulled. Not harshly, but firmly enough to make Nesta gasp, her neck arching back on instinct, her bound hands flexing uselessly. A sharp pulse of heat shot down her spine.

“Do you feel the way your body listens before your mind can catch up?” Liandrin murmured, savoring the way Nesta shivered at her touch.

She tugged again, just enough to keep Nesta off balance, to make her body yield before her mind could even resist. Her other hand traced over the exposed column of Nesta’s throat, fingers ghosting along her rapid pulse, pressing down to remind her who was in control.

“Up.” she commanded.

Nesta rose, her movements fluid despite the restraint of the rope. Liandrin didn’t release her hair right away. She kept her close, her other hand trailing down the length of Nesta’s arm, lingering at the bindings around her wrists.

“You’ll be a good, obedient pet for me, won’t you?” she praised, low and satisfied. Then, her lips brushed the shell of Nesta’s ear, her next words nothing more than a whisper. “Now, let’s see just how patient you really are.”

Nesta’s breath stilled, her pulse hammering beneath Liandrin’s touch. The rope bit into her wrists as she instinctively tested the restraints again, but the binding held firm. Just like Liandrin’s grip in her hair.

Patience. That was what Liandrin was demanding from her now. A test. A challenge.

Nesta held her ground, refusing to look away, refusing to break first.

Liandrin hummed in approval. “That’s better, but you’re still holding back, aren’t you?” she murmured, tilting her head, as if she were inspecting Nesta, reading every flicker of emotion written in her body.

The girl clenched her jaw, her muscles tensing as she fought against the instinct to snap back. But she didn’t have long to linger on the thought before Liandrin tightened the grip in her hair again, tilting her head to the side, exposing more of her throat.

“Do you know what I love about this?” Liandrin mused, her voice taking on a slow, measured quality, like she was savoring each syllable. “You pretend to fight it, but your body tells me everything I need to know.”

Her breath fanned against the shell of Nesta’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“You crave this, even if you don’t want to admit it.” she punctuated the words by dragging her lips along the curve of Nesta’s jaw, not quite kissing. Then she stopped, hovering there, waiting.

Nesta tried to hold herself still, to resist the pull drawing her toward Liandrin, but she failed. It was barely a movement, just the faintest tilt of her head, the smallest shift forward, and Liandrin felt it.

A victorious smirk ghosted across the older woman’s lips. “There it is.” she purred.

Nesta sucked in a sharp breath, cursing herself for the instinctive reaction, for the way Liandrin’s presence seeped into her bones like an unshakable force.

The Aes Sedai’s long fingers flexed in her hair, right before she released her grip, letting her hand drift lower, tracing Nesta’s collarbone before sliding down her torso with agonizing patience.

When she reached for the rope binding Nesta’s wrists, she gave a firm tug, this time pulling Nesta even closer. The girl had no choice but to follow, her body pressing flush against Liandrin’s.

“Lioness.” Liandrin murmured, her lips brushing against the corner of Nesta’s mouth, not a kiss, just another tease.

With another tug of the rope, she guided Nesta toward the bed, each step deliberate, measured. “Come.” she commanded, her voice coaxing and inescapable.

Nesta could only obey, her body surrendering before her mind could even form the thought of resistance.

Quickly, the bed loomed behind Nesta, but she barely registered it. Not when Liandrin’s grip on the rope remained firm, pulling her ever so slightly forward, keeping her close, keeping her exactly where she wanted.

She moved with precision, one hand maintaining control over the rope while the other ghosted over Nesta’s side, fingers barely grazing the curve of her waist. A slow, tormenting tease.

“You’re trembling. Do you even realize it?” Liandrin noted.

Nesta's pride roaring at the accusation, but she couldn’t deny it. A faint, involuntary tremor had started in her arms, in her legs. But it wasn’t from fear, it was from the pure desire. The heat inside her grew, her body betraying her as wetness began to pool between her thighs. She swallowed hard, fighting the rush of conflicting emotions. Her mind screamed at her to stay in control, but her body was responding in ways she couldn’t ignore.

A sharp tug on the rope sent Nesta off balance, her knees hitting the edge of the mattress. Liandrin followed, crowding into her space, pressing forward until Nesta had no choice but to tip backward onto the bed.

The second her back hit the sheets, Liandrin climbed over her, settling a knee between Nesta’s thighs, pinning her in place with effortless grace.

“Much better.” Liandrin murmured.

She reached down, fingers grazing Nesta’s throat, pressing harder, as her knee dug deeper between thighs. The pressure sending a shockwave of heat through Nesta’s body. 

Liandrin’s fingers danced across Nesta’s bare arm, tracing patterns with teasing lightness. It wasn’t just about the sensation, it was about control. Every touch was a reminder of who decided when and how everything unfolded.

The girl's muscles tightened, and a shiver ran through her, as her back instinctively arched seeking more. She was watching Liandrin with an intensity that bordered on desperation. Her blue eyes locked onto every movement, every shift of Liandrin’s expression.

The woman's hands moved lower, gliding over the curve of Nesta’s waist. She didn’t rush, there was no urgency, just a slow, purposeful exploration. With each touch, each lingering moment, Liandrin was breaking down the resistance that Nesta held onto so tightly.

"You can’t hide it from me, not anymore." her voice was low, as she gently traced the dip of Nesta’s waist.

The air was thick with anticipation, and Nesta could feel her body betraying her, her pride and stubbornness slipping away with every subtle, teasing caress. Her breath came in shallow gasps, it felt as every inch of her skin was screaming for more.

The walls she’d built around herself began to crumble. It wasn’t just the physical pleasure or the rawness of the moment, but the realization that she didn’t have to fight anymore.

Liandrin’s fingers continued their slow, deliberate dance over Nesta’s skin, tracing patterns that burned into her memory. The heat between them intensified with every touch.

Nesta felt the cold hand moving lower, against the curve of her hip. And for the first time she let the sensation consume her. Her body finally surrendered to the touch without the usual hesitation.

A soft moan escaped Nesta’s lips, the sound quiet and almost unrecognizable as it left her. It wasn’t just a physical surrender, it was emotional. She had been fighting for so long, always in control, always the one to dictate the terms. But in this moment, she realized she didn’t have to do it alone. She could let someone else hold the reins.

Suddenly, Nesta felt the rope that had bound her wrists loosen. The knot was undone with a swift tug, the silk trailing softly over her skin as the pressure that had held her in place was released. But despite the relief of freedom, it only made her feel more vulnerable than before.

Liandrin’s fingers traced the fabric of Nesta’s clothing with devotion. She carefully pulled the blouse over Nesta’s head, her gaze lingering on every exposed part of Nesta's chest. “You’re beautiful.” Liandrin whispered, her voice low with desire.

The compliment hit Nesta harder than she expected. A faint blush crept over her cheeks, but there was no time to dwell on it as Liandrin’s hands moved to the waistband of her trousers.

A gasp escaped Nesta’s lips as Liandrin guided her pants off, leaving her bare to the touch, exposed in every sense. The quiet vulnerability of the moment hung in the air between them, but Nesta didn’t look away, she met Liandrin’s eyes, her chest rising and falling with the intensity of her feelings.

Liandrin moved back slightly, her gaze never leaving Nesta’s. “Beg for it.”

The words were a command, but it wasn’t forceful or cruel. It was a subtle, almost tender demand that sent a ripple of heat through Nesta’s core.

Nesta swallowed, her breath shallow. “Please.” she whispered, her voice trembling with a need she could no longer hide.

Liandrin’s lips curled into a triumphant smile, her eyes glittering with the satisfaction of having her control so easily accepted. She moved closer, her fingers trailing lightly down the length of Nesta’s cheek. Every second of this moment was an intoxicating game for Liandrin.

“More. I want to hear how much you need me.” she purred.

“Please.” Nesta’s voice cracked again, the word a raw plea, her fingers curling into the sheets as she struggled to hold back the tremble in her limbs. “Please, I need you.”

Liandrin leaned in closer, her lips hovering just above Nesta’s ear. “That’s the sound I wanted. You’re mine, Lioness.” she whispered, her voice thick with satisfaction. "And you’re going to keep begging for me, aren’t you?”

“Please, Lia.” Nesta’s voice was louder.

Liandrin’s smile widened as she finally moved closer, her hand wrapping around Nesta’s throat, while her other hand grazed the sensitive skin of Nesta’s inner thighs, moving closer to the core, slowly teasing the soft flesh with delicate strokes, as she was pushing Nesta’s body to respond to her will.

“Let go now..” Liandrin coaxed, her voice low and seductive.

Nesta’s lips parted as a soft gasp escaped her throat. She could feel the heat pooling within her, the tension building again, and despite herself, she wanted more. Needed more. Her body felt alive, attuned to every shift in Liandrin’s movements, every subtle change in the way her fingers stroked her.

“I’m all yours.” the plea escaped her lips in a near-whimper as her eyes fluttered shut in surrender.

Liandrin’s fingers paused, hovering just above the most sensitive part of Nesta’s body. The air seemed to hang between them, thick with the heat of desire and the tension of control.

“You are mine, every inch of you.” she murmured.

Being at Liandrin’s mercy made Nesta feel alive. She finally felt like she was letting go of everything that had been weighing her down.

"You're dripping." Liandrin murmured, dragging a fingertip through Nesta's wetness. "All this fight, yet your body begs so prettily.”

Liandrin moved lower on Nesta’s body, pressing her lips to the soft curve of her breast. Her lips traced each inch of skin like a worshipful gesture. Her hand shifted, finding new ways to tease as she entered Nesta’s cunt with two fingers.

Nesta gripped the sheets beneath her, as though trying to anchor herself to something solid as Liandrin moved above her, taking her further into the world of submission.

“You’re mine.” Liandrin whispered again.

And with that, Nesta’s final threads of resistance slipped away as she melted into Liandrin’s touch. All that was left was the heat, the touch, the overwhelming sense of belonging to someone who understood exactly what she needed, even when she didn’t.

“You’re so beautiful like this. So powerful, and yet so willing to be undone.” Liandrin said softly, her voice thick with approval.

She leaned in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to Nesta’s inner thigh, sucking just hard enough to bruise.

Nesta jerked, a gasp tearing from her throat. "Oh?" Liandrin's voice is a mockery of sweetness. "And here I thought you'd put up more of a fight."

Nesta arched off the bed with a choked cry, her body clamping down around Liandrin's hand. "There it is." Liandrin purred, curling her fingers deeper. She fucked her like that, slow and relentless. every thrust a calculated torment, every withdrawal a punishment.

Nesta was panting now, her skin sheened with sweat, her thighs shaking. "Please." she gasped, the word ripped from her lips.

Liandrin’s fingers moved with precision, guiding the girl further into her surrender, each thrust drawing her closer to the breaking point.

And as she leaned in, she moaned softly against Nesta’s cunt, the sound vibrating against her sensitive skin. She wrapped her lips around clit and sucked deeply.

The warmth spread through Nesta’s body, her heart softening with every passing second.  Her body ached, craving the release that was just beyond her grasp, yet her mind barely registered the need. All that mattered was Liandrin.

The woman’s mouth moved with purpose, tracing gentle, teasing patterns along Nesta’s cunt, savoring each reaction as it played across her body. It was as if she was carefully studying every shift, every breath, watching as Nesta’s body responded to her, becoming more frantic.

Nesta’s hand, instinctively moved to find Liandrin’s hair. And her fingers threading through the soft strands with a gentleness that mirrored the way her body ached for more. She pulled her closer, not in desperation, but in a silent plea to deepen the connection, to surrender fully to the sensations that Liandrin was giving her.

Her tongue traced a slow, filthy stripe up Nesta’s center, savoring the taste of her. The younger woman cried out, her back arching off the bed, but Liandrin didn’t relent. She flicked her tongue over Nesta’s clit, once, twice, cruelly light, teasing, before sealing her lips around it and sucking again.

“Come.” she commanded, curling her fingers, her tongue circling Nesta’s clit in ruthless perfection.

The connection between them deepened, and as Nesta’s body finally tensed, finally gave in to the sensation that had been building for so long. Every nerve seemed to ignite, her pulse racing as the pleasure consumed her. Her body trembled with the force of it, the release that felt almost too much to bear, as if her very soul was unraveling with the overwhelming pleasure.

Liandrin didn’t let her go. She rode her through it, fingers pumping, tongue lapping up every last pulse of pleasure. Relentless and merciless until Nesta went limp beneath her.

Only then did Liandrin pull away, licking her lips with a satisfied hum.

She remained steady, her hands never leaving Nesta’s skin, her touch grounding her with a silent strength. She felt her fingers trace reassuring patterns, as if to remind Nesta that this was not a loss, but a reclaiming of power in a new form.

Liandrin’s mind raced with a satisfaction deeper than she could have imagined, savoring the taste of Nesta, her body and soul laid bare before her. Every shift of the girl’s body, every shudder that passed through her, was a moment of victory, a treasure Liandrin couldn’t help but indulge in. 

Her presence was like an anchor to Nesta, holding her steady, letting her know that she was safe, and that the surrender was not a weakness but a bold, beautiful act of trust and intimacy.

With a final kiss pressed against Nesta’s thighs, Liandrin marked the moment. It was a possessive claim, a lingering touch that tasted of dominance. She wasn’t just kissing Nesta, she was marking her, staking her claim in the most intimate way possible.

-

A soft tension hung in the air, as they lay peacefully on the bed. Nesta’s heart still racing in the aftermath, as Liandrin gazed down at her. The calculating, commanding air she’d worn so effortlessly just moments ago was now replaced with softness.

Carefully, Liandrin reached up, her fingers brushing gently over the bruised, flushed skin of Nesta’s inner thighs. “I’ve never seen you like this before. You’re more than just what you show the world, Nesta. More than the walls you put up.” she murmured.

Before Nesta could respond, Liandrin leaned down, her lips brushing gently against Nesta's. The girl’s lips parted against her own, letting herself fall into the kiss, letting the softness of it warm her heart.

Liandrin pulled away slightly, her forehead resting against Nesta’s. “I won’t hurt you, not unless you ask for it. I promise.” she whispered, her voice carrying a depth of sincerity that startled the girl.

Nesta had never heard anyone speak to her like this, not even those who claimed to care. With a shaky exhale, she closed her eyes.

Liandrin pulled her closer, gently cupping her face. Her eyes, always so intense, softened now. “You’re not alone anymore.” Liandrin said softly.

“Why do you care so much?” Nesta asked, her voice rough from everything they had just shared, her throat tight with emotions.

Liandrin’s thumb brushed lightly over her bottom lip, and she leaned forward. “Because I see you too. I see the strength you hide beneath your walls. And I don’t want to hurt you, Nesta. I want to build something with you. Something real.” she whispered, her words quiet but full of conviction.

Nesta had spent so much time convincing herself that she couldn’t trust anyone in the White Tower. But now, with Liandrin so close, her warmth radiating against her skin, it felt impossible to remain in control.

Liandrin must have sensed it, because her hands, which had been exploring Nesta’s skin with such careful intent, now gentled further. “But you have to let me in. You have to let me show you that you deserve this.”

Nesta shifted, her eyes locking with Liandrin’s. “I don’t know how to let go. Everything I’ve ever known… I don’t even know who I am without the fight.” she admitted, her voice shaking with the truth of it.

Liandrin’s expression softened, her eyes darkening with understanding. “I won’t ask you to let go of everything. But you don’t have to fight me.” she said.

Nesta felt the tension in her body ease, and for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to breathe fully. She let her body sink into the softness of the bed, feeling the warmth of the Liandrin’s presence surrounding her.

“Let me help you, Lioness.” Liandrin murmured.

Nesta exhaled, “Thank you for being here. And for putting up with my attitude.”

Liandrin smirked, her fingers tracing slow, reassuring circles against Nesta’s skin. “Honestly, I enjoy it.”

Her hands moved to cup Nesta’s face again, and she leaned down, her lips pressing gently against Nesta’s, in a kiss of understanding and trust.

After a moment, Nesta murmured, “I know you weren’t completely honest with me.” Her voice was quiet and careful. It didn’t sound like an accusation.

Liandrin’s fingers twitched. “About what?” she asked.

“About Leane.” Nesta sighed, shifting slightly so she could look into Liandrin’s face.

She felt the way Liandrin’s body stiffened, the way her grip on the waist tightened for a fraction of a second before she forced herself to relax.

Nesta didn’t push, didn’t demand. Instead, she let her hand slide up, her fingers brushing over Liandrin’s sharp cheek, coaxing rather than prying. “I don’t need you to tell me everything, but I want you to know that you can share it with me. Whatever it might be, I will willingly take it.”

“I didn’t lie, but I left things out.” the older woman said, voice quieter than usual, as if each word was a carefully measured.

“I know and that’s alright.” Nesta said simply.

Liandrin’s blue eyes snapped back to hers. “Is it?”

Nesta simply nodded. “I won’t force you to say more. I just don’t want you to think you have to keep everything locked away. Not with me.”

A bitter smile ghosted over Liandrin’s lips. “That’s easier said than done.”

Nesta hummed, her fingers still tracing slow, absentminded shapes along Liandrin’s skin.

After a long pause, Liandrin exhaled slowly. “Leane has doubts about you.”

The words made Nesta stiffen slightly, but Liandrin’s grip on her didn’t waver. If anything, her fingers curled a little tighter.

“She thinks you don’t belong in the Tower.” Liandrin continued, voice measured. “That you’re too wild. Too unpredictable. She doesn’t trust what she can’t control.” Her gaze flickered over Nesta’s face. 

It wasn’t surprising, not really. She had spent her life being told she was too much, too dangerous, too chaotic to be accepted. But hearing it now, from someone who mattered, it still struck the nerve inside her.

“She’s wrong, I told her as much.” Liandrin added, firm and certain.

Nesta blinked, the words sinking in. “You defended me?”

“Of course I did.” Liandrin’s lips twitched, almost amused.

“Even though you also think I’m wild and unpredictable?”

The older woman huffed. “That’s different. I like that about you.” Her fingers trailed along Nesta’s chest. “I told Leane she’s a fool if she doesn’t see what I see.”

Nesta’s breath hitched. “And what do you see?”

Liandrin’s gaze softened. “Someone who has a lot of potential.”

A slow warmth spreading through Nesta’s chest. She swallowed hard, the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding loosening slightly.

“Leane may doubt you, but I don’t.” Liandrin went on, quieter now.

Nesta felt the truth in those words, the unwavering certainty in them. And surprisingly she believed it without any doubt.

Nevertheless, she tilted her chin up, meeting Liandrin’s gaze with sharpness. “And what if they’re right? What if I am just chaos? A wild thing that doesn’t belong here?” she asked, voice low. 

“If that were true, they would have cast you out already. But they haven’t.” Liandrin murmured, as her fingers curled under Nesta’s chin, tilting her head. “And I won’t let them.”

“Thank you, Lia.” Nesta  exhaled softly, her breath mingling with Liandrin’s, and she let the tension in her shoulders melt, inch by inch.

“Sleep now.” Liandrin murmured.

The mattress dipped as Liandrin shifted beside her, until Nesta was half-draped against her. One arm curled around the girl’s waist, her grip firm yet gentle at the same time.

“I am grateful that you are my mentor and more than that.” Nesta murmured, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Sleep well, my Lioness.” she whispered, her voice a low murmur. There was no arrogance, no teasing in her tone, just calmness.

Nesta pressed her face against Liandrin’s neck, letting the warmth of her skin envelop her. She inhaled deeply, drawing in her intoxicating scent.

The world outside this room was harsh, cruel. But here, in the quiet, Nesta allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be alone. Maybe there was room in this world for more than just survival.