nestadevries - Tumblr blog

nestadevries · 19 days ago

Text

Chapter 25 | Far from the Tower

Notes: Nesta's first mission. Here we go! - around 8k words

Nesta woke up, feeling warmth at her back, strong arms snug around her waist, her hand splayed possessively just beneath her ribs. The steady rise and fall of Liandrin’s breath stirred soft strands of her golden hair that had fallen across the girl's cheek, tickling her skin. She tried to move a little, but Liandrin only pulled her tighter in response.

The Aes Sedai's entire body pressed into hers from behind, and the length of her body molded perfectly to Nesta’s curves. There was something achingly tender in how Liandrin’s body was on top of her, not oppressive, but protective. She let herself sink into it, every inch of her molding back into her lover’s embrace. Her usual restlessness was gone, smothered by the safety.

Liandrin made a sleepy, grumbling noise behind her. “You’re thinking too loudly.”

Nesta smiled softly. “How would you know?”

“I always know when you’re planning something.” Liandrin murmured, her voice thick with sleep. “And you’re wriggling. Stop it.”

“I wasn’t planning anything.” Nesta said sweetly, then shifted again, just enough to test how firmly she was being held.

Liandrin’s arm locked tighter around her waist. “Don’t you dare.”

“I was just going to get up.”

“You’re not allowed.” Liandrin’s lips brushed the curve of her neck. “I’m keeping you, pet.”

A chuckle slipped from Nesta. “You say that like I’m a blanket.”

“You’re warmer than one.” Liandrin muttered, her voice still drowsy but firm. “And mine.”

Nesta turned in her arms then, propping herself up on her elbow, their noses nearly brushing. “Possessive this early?” she teased.

“Always.”

Nesta leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose. “So sweet.”

Liandrin rolled suddenly, catching Nesta off guard and pinning her beneath with a triumphant smirk. Her thighs straddled the girl’s hips in an easy motion, her hands pinning Nesta’s wrists above her head with ease. “Got you, love.” she purred.

Nesta’s pulse quickened beneath the weight of her. She could feel every inch of Liandrin’s body pressing down, her hips firm and unapologetic. And yet it wasn’t just heat or tension that held her in place, but more the ease in Liandrin’s touch and the playful edge in her eyes. There was no threat here, only the delicious press of power and trust between them.

Liandrin leaned down, her golden hair falling forward. “Still think you’re getting out of bed without saying good morning properly?”

Nesta gasped in mock outrage. “This is so unfair. Sneaky attacks before breakfast are forbidden.”

“Show me where it says that.”

“I’ll write it down myself.” Nesta bucked her hips with a grin, catching Liandrin off balance, and twisted with stubbornness, managing to roll them halfway. For a heartbeat, she was on top, but Liandrin’s strength surged, her arms locking around Nesta’s waist as she flipped them back over with a low growl.

She stared up into Liandrin’s blue eyes, the world narrowing to their shared heat and breath. Slowly, she lifted her hands to thread her fingers into the tangled fall of hair. Her thumb brushed across her cheek, those sharp, delicate lines she adored so much. And then she pulled her down into a kiss. It started fierce, but it softened with every passing second. The kiss deepened into something delicate that pulled them even closer.

Nesta’s hands roamed down Liandrin’s back, nails tracing over scars she now knew by heart. She felt every shift of muscle, every flutter of breath, and when Liandrin’s weight settled more fully on her, she arched up into the press of it, savoring the warmth.

Carefully, she slid her hands lower, guiding Liandrin back up toward the pillows, her own body trailing after. She kissed down her collarbone, then lower. “Let me.”

Liandrin let herself be moved, her heart ached unbearably full. Nesta’s lips found the top of one breast, and she paused there, just breathing her in. Her mouth moved with gentle slowness, as she kissed the swell and curve, savoring the softness. She licked delicately, then sucked at the skin just above her nipple, and felt Liandrin shudder beneath her.

When her lips closed around one of Liandrin’s nipple, her tongue circling with care, Liandrin gasped and arched up into her mouth. Nesta hummed softly, letting the vibration roll through both of them. She lingered there, switching sides, her kisses, a worship not just of body but of trust.

She whispered between kisses, her voice hoarse, “I love every part of you.” Her hands moved with reverence, thumbs brushing over Liandrin’s ribs and hips as if to remind her, that she is safe now. Both of them.

Only when Liandrin’s eyes fluttered shut and her body melted beneath her, Nesta began to move lower, trailing more kisses, tasting the smooth expanse of her stomach, the softest parts of her that she handled with protective care.

She took her time, her fingers squeezing the supple flesh of her thighs before spreading them wider, exposing her completely. The scent of Liandrin’s arousal was thick in the air, and she groaned against her skin.

Finally, she buried herself between them. She devoured her, tongue dragged through slick heat, savoring every shuddering gasp it tore from Liandrin’s lips. The moment her tongue flicked over clit, Liandrin cried out, fingers twisting violently in blonde hair.

Nesta moaned against her, loving the way Liandrin’s body responded to her mouth, to her tongue, how she trembled with each stroke and shivered with each kiss. She loved the way Liandrin tried to stay quiet and failed, loved the way her thighs began to quake, the way her breathing turned ragged.

“I could stay here forever.” She murmured between kisses, her voice thick with awe, her mouth wet.

Liandrin’s back arched, "Nesta…" Her voice was a wrecked whisper, her thighs clamping around the girl's head. Her moans turned wild, her hips grinding down, chasing her release.

But Nesta only worshipped her deeper, the rhythm of her tongue finding a steady pace that made Liandrin's heart beat quicker. Her hands moved up to woman’s waist, holding her with pure gentleness, as if even in this moment of pleasure, she needed her to feel held.

When Liandrin finally came, she cried out Nesta’s name. Her body shook, her back arching as her release hit her hard, deep and shuddering. And Nesta didn’t stop until she was wrung dry, until every last tremor had been taken from her. Only then did she pull back, licking her lips with a satisfied smirk, watching the way Liandrin’s chest heaved, her skin glistening with sweat.

She climbed up her body, kissing her stomach, her breasts, her throat, and finally her lips. Liandrin pulled her into a breathless kiss, as if to say everything she couldn’t find words for.

“I love you, my Lioness.” she whispered.

Nesta pressed her forehead to hers. “You’re my everything.”

They stayed wrapped in each other. Liandrin’s arms circled her waist tightly, anchoring herself to the only person who had ever made her feel whole.

She pressed her face into the crook of Nesta’s neck, her golden hair spilled messily across her shoulder and chest. She sighed quietly, her body relaxing inch by inch, surrendering to the peace she’d never dared to hope for, when she realized, This is what safety feels like.

Not solitude, but the stubborn presence of someone who chose her again and again. “I like this.” she murmured, her voice low and rough.

Nesta kissed her in response. “Then we’ll have more mornings like this. As many as you want.”

The sun had climbed higher by the time Nesta stepped into the courtyard, a breeze stirred her unbound hair, carrying the scent of blooming roses. She still tasted Liandrin on her lips and the warmth of that morning wrapped around her like a second skin.

She didn’t notice Tsutama until the Red Ajah’s leader stepped into her path with the precision of a drawn blade. “Nesta, Sister.” Tsutama said. Her brown eyes locked on blue ones. “Walk with me.”

A command, not a suggestion. Nesta fell into step beside her. “Something wrong, Tsutama Sedai?”

“Not wrong.” Tsutama replied.

Birds chirped from the trees. Servants passed quietly in the distance. “You’ve proven your strength. But now you need a real test, away from the Tower’s protections.”

“What kind of test?” Nesta slowed slightly.

“There’s a mission. Shadowspawn have been reported near the remnants of an old Ogier-built settlement west of Shienar. A merchant caravan spoke of Waygate residue. Subtle signs, but enough to raise concern.” She kept walking, hands clasped behind her back. “You’ll travel with Alanna Sedai and three others. Reds and Greens.”

Nesta stopped walking entirely. “And Liandrin?”

Tsutama halted as well. “Liandrin will not be joining you.”

“Why?” Nesta asked, her voice low but firm.

“Because this is your test. Not hers.” Tsutama turned fully to face her. “You lean on her too much. That comfort is a shield you’re not ready to carry into battle. I need to know you can stand alone, without her voice in your ear.”

“Do you think I’ll break?”

“I think you’re still learning where your limits are.” Tsutama’s tone softened. “And this mission will help you find them.”

Nesta’s hands curled into fists at her sides. “You’re using me to see if I snap.”

“I’m giving you a chance to prove you won’t.”

A silence settled between them, tense but not hostile. Tsutama stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Not all lessons are learned within the Tower’s walls. Some must be felt in the bones, far from the safety of home.”

Nesta held her gaze. “When do we leave?”

“After the midday bell.” Tsutama answered. “Be in the stables by then.”

“Today?” Nesta blinked.

“There’s no time like the present.” The words were calm, but final. She turned and walked away without another word, her crimson skirts whispering against the stone.

Nesta remained where she was for a moment longer, the world tilting beneath her feet. Her heart beat faster now, not from fear exactly, but from the sharp clarity of being thrown into motion. Five days of ride, a ruined settlement, shadowspawn, and no Liandrin.

“Then I’d better go pack.” she said quietly to herself, before turning toward the Tower with purpose in her step.

Nesta opened the door to their chambers, the morning light had changed. It felt colder now, slicing across the bed where they'd tangled just hours ago. The warmth of that closeness had faded, replaced by something heavier.

Liandrin stood near the wardrobe, already half-dressed for the day. Her hair was tied back, precise. She didn’t turn when Nesta entered, only her shoulders rose and fell with a controlled breath.

“Are you leaving?” Nesta asked softy.

Liandrin’s voice came flat, stripped bare. “Tower business. A merchant in the city under suspicion of harboring Shadow sympathies. They want a presence there.”

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye.”

Liandrin’s fingers froze mid-buckle. The chill of the metal suddenly felt too cold against her skin, or perhaps it was her own blood, rushing backward in her veins. “I was going to write a note.” she offered stiffly, and it was such a weak lie that she winced hearing it leave her lips.

“You’re a terrible liar when it matters.” Nesta’s mouth twitched, something sad in the corner of her smile. “Tsutama found me and she told me I’ve been assigned to a mission.”

Liandrin stiffened. “What kind of mission?”

“Investigating corrupted Waygate residue. There have been merchant reports near the Mountains of Mist.” She swallowed. “Alanna’s leading and three others are coming too.”

“You’re going without me.” Liandrin’s voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but still sharp.

“I leave after lunch.”

Liandrin’s jaw tensed, as if she were biting back all the things she wanted to say, You shouldn’t go. They don’t deserve you. I should be with you.

But she only nodded once.

“Tsutama wants to see if I can work with other Ajahs and Sisters.” Nesta cut in gently. “If I can survive without you at my side.”

“She sends you on your first field mission without the one person who knows your limits. Who knows how you fight, how you think.” She laughed, sharp and bitter. “Of course she does.”

“She wants to see if I can stand on my own.” Nesta said.

“She knows damn well you can.” Liandrin snapped. “But she doesn’t want that, she wants to see what happens when no one’s there to pull you back.”

Nesta moved toward her, voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “Maybe, but I’m going.”

Liandrin stared at her for a moment. Then she exhaled roughly and stepped back, pacing a few feet away. Her voice trembled with restrained fury, but it wasn’t anger aimed at Nesta. It was fear, buried deep but undeniable. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides. She could still remember the last mission she had been sent on without enough support.

“I should be going with you.” she said hoarsely. “I should be the one watching your back.”

“I know.” Nesta said, stepping closer, “But I’ll come back. I swear it.”

Liandrin didn’t say it aloud, but the thought beat wildly in her chest, She is mine to protect.

And now they were sending her out into the unknown, where shadowspawn walked and ancient magics stirred, and Liandrin would be here, caged within the Tower’s walls, powerless to stop any harm that might come.

“You don’t get to promise that.” she said, a tremor finally breaking through her control. “No one can.”

Nesta lifted a hand and cupped her cheek. “Then I’ll make it true anyway.”

Liandrin leaned into her touch. “I don’t know how to do this.” she admitted, her voice cracking again. “I’ve never waited. Not for anyone.”

“I’ll come back, Lia.” she managed a soft smile.

Liandrin’s lips parted, but no sound came. She looked at Nesta the way someone looked at the only light in a storm. Then, abruptly, she pulled her into a crushing hug. Her arms wrapped tight around her back, her hand pressing flat against Nesta’s shoulder blades as if she could hold her in place.

“We’ll be alright.” Nesta said gently.

Liandrin searched her face, and kissed her quickly, almost angry with love. When she pulled away, her hand came up and touched the red choker around Nesta’s throat. “Remember your strength and my love.”

Nesta covered Liandrin’s hand with her own. “Thank you.”

The older woman closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, they shimmered, and she pressed her forehead to Nesta’s. “Come back to me, please.”

“I will.” Nesta whispered back, but her voice caught in her throat.

Liandrin nodded, though her hand lingered a moment longer on the choker before she stepped away. Slowly, as if her body didn’t want to obey, she walked out, the door clicking shut behind her.

Nesta stood there in the quiet, her fingers drifting up to touch the choker. She let herself feel the weight of it, not just the stones, but everything it meant. Everything it reminded her of. And when she finally moved, it was toward her travel pack, because no matter how heavy her heart felt now, she wouldn’t go into that forest carrying fear. She would only carry Liandrin’s love.

The sun filtered weakly through the trees overhead, casting speckled light across the forest trail. Eight riders moved in loose formation, five Aes Sedai and three warders. Nesta rode in silence for a while, fingers loose on the reins, her eyes tracking the movement of the Sisters ahead. Alanna had slowed her horse to ride beside her, their pace steady and unhurried as they navigated a more stable stretch of terrain. One of her warders, Ihvon scouted ahead with another from the Green Ajah, while Maksim lingered closer to Alanna’s right shoulder, his attention scanning the trees.

“You’re quiet.” Alanna said gently, brushing a stray leaf from her shoulder. “That can be a gift on a journey like this. But it can also be a burden.”

Nesta gave a small huff of amusement. “Is that your way of asking if I’m brooding?”

Alanna smiled, her eyes warm. “I wouldn’t presume. But I am curious what stirs behind that careful expression of yours.”

Nesta arched a brow but didn’t look at her directly. “Is this your method? Drawing people out with kindness?”

Alanna chuckled, brushing a hand over her horse’s neck. “I’ve found kindness often does what pressure cannot. Especially with someone who’s spent their life being told to silence their fire.”

Nesta hesitated. The forest felt too still and quiet. And yet Alanna’s presence was grounding. Not in the way Liandrin’s was, consuming and possessive, but more calmer.

“I didn’t think I’d miss her this much.” she admitted at last, her voice low. “It’s only been four days.”

“She’s in your blood now.” Alanna said softly. “That sort of bond doesn’t care about distance.”

Nesta’s fingers tightened briefly on the reins. “Tsutama said this was a test for me.” she muttered, glancing ahead to where the other three Sisters rode in silence. “I don’t know if it’s a punishment or a chance.”

Alanna tilted her head. “Maybe both. That’s how we grow, isn’t it?”

Nesta looked over at her then. “You talk like someone who’s been broken before.”

“I have and I survived.” Alanna said without hesitation. “So will you.”

“Why this group?” Nesta asked, glancing toward the trees.

"Tsutama didn’t tell you?”

“She told me enough, that I needed to prove myself.” Nesta replied. “That I needed to be seen outside the Tower.” She paused. “But she left Liandrin behind.”

Alanna didn’t respond at first. Her eyes watched the path ahead, thoughtful. “Sometimes those who care for us most can’t be the ones to test us or save us.”

Nesta didn’t like that answer, but she didn’t argue with it either.

Unexpectedly, the Green Sister changed the subject. “What were you doing before we left?”

Nesta hesitated. The truth was too vulnerable and precious. “Reading old texts on Waygates.” she lied smoothly.

And the moment the words left her mouth, something inside twisted sharply. Her throat tightened, the lie had come so easily. She kept her expression still, her posture unshaken, but inwardly, the tremor ran deep. There was no flicker of pain, no warning shudder from the Oaths. Just silence.

Alanna didn’t look suspicious, but Nesta felt the weight of her own deceit like a fresh bruise forming beneath the surface. Her hand brushed her thigh, calming herself. But her mind spun elsewhere, Lanfear’s voice echoed in her thoughts, You bonded yourself in more ways than one. When you gave her your oath, something claimed you too.

Ahead, Alanna’s warders exchanged a quiet gesture, scanning the forest. The other Sisters rode silently now, more alert. The deeper they traveled into this forgotten wood, the more the trees seemed to lean inward, shadows stretching long beneath their hooves.

Nesta took a breath, then another. Whatever she had become, whatever rules she had bent or broken there was no turning back. She clutched the reins tighter, and rode on.

The forest around them seemed quieter now. The fire crackled softly in the stillness of the night, throwing flickering shadows across the circle of scattered packs. Nesta settled herself on a log near the fire, pulling her crimson cloak tighter around her shoulders against the cool night air. Alanna was already there, sitting cross-legged, her green cloak draped loosely over her knees. Her dark hair caught the firelight, and her eyes shone with a calm confidence that felt steadying.

“You ride well.” she said, breaking the comfortable silence. “You must have spent a lot of time in the saddle before the Tower.”

Nesta smiled. “I try. Horses are good company, unlike some people.” Her tone was teasing, and Alanna’s lips twitched in a smile.

“Some people.” Alanna echoed, arching an eyebrow. “You mean the kind that sends you on missions?” She glanced around at the other Sisters.

Nesta laughed softly. “That too, but no, some people are just hard to read. Like you. You don’t say much, but when you do, it counts.”

“That’s fair.” Alanna shrugged. “I’m not one for nonsense.”

“Neither am I.” Nesta replied. She hesitated, then added, “I wasn’t sure what to expect from this mission or from you. But it’s good, a bit easier than I thought.”

Alanna shifted, nodding thoughtfully. “I feel the same. We’ve both got histories that make trusting tricky. But out here, away from the Tower’s politics, it’s simpler. Just us and the forest.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Alanna smiled, warmth flickering in her eyes. “And I’m glad you’re more open now.”

“Maybe this mission won’t be so bad after all.”

She gave her a knowing look. “We’ll watch each other’s backs. That’s what matters.”

Nesta nodded, feeling a calm certainty settle inside her. For the first time since leaving the Tower, she felt she had an ally. And not just in duty, but in friendship.

Alanna’s eyes gleamed with curiosity, catching the firelight. “So how did a girl from Caemlyn end up in the White Tower? That’s a long road.”

Nesta’s gaze drifted toward the flames. The warmth of the fire licked at her cheeks, but the heat did nothing to chase away the chill of memory. “A man tried to hurt me. I didn’t even mean to use the Power. At the end no one could prove anything.”

Alanna’s expression sobered. The teasing gleam faded, replaced with more gentleness and understanding. “And someone saw that power for what it was.”

“A Blue Sister was passing through. She heard whispers, asked questions. She looked at me like she knew exactly what I’d done.” Nesta gave a bitter smile. “She didn’t ask if I wanted to leave, just said it was time.”

“It’s hard, being torn out of your world like that. No time to grieve it. Just the Tower and its rules.”

“I didn’t understand what I was becoming. I just knew I wasn’t the girl who packed herbs in her father’s shop anymore.” Nesta admitted.

“It must have been quite the moment.” Alanna said with a crooked grin, trying to lift the weight from the air. “You’ve got that spark, though.”

Nesta laughed softly, grateful for the shift in tone. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s a curse more than a gift.”

The Green Aes Sedai reached out and nudged her shoulder friendly. “Don’t talk like that, Nesta. You’ve made it this far, and you’re stronger than you know.”

“It’s easier to be strong when you have someone to rely on.” Nesta looked at her sidelong, the glow of the fire dancing in her blue eyes.

Alanna tilted her head, her smile deepening with something warmer than amusement. “Then you’re lucky you’ve got me.”

The girl’s lips curved, and for once, the smile felt easy. “Ah, so sure it’s about you.”

They both laughed, and the tension in Nesta’s chest loosened. The fire popped, sending a sudden spray of sparks dancing into the stars above. Around them, the warders murmured quietly, and for the first time since setting out, Nesta felt less like a stranger among them.

The world changed around the girl, Tel’aran’rhiod. One moment, she was asleep by the dying campfire, wrapped in her cloak and the next, the distant breathing of the other Sisters and Warders vanished. She stood in a familiar forest, yet it all felt different. Her eyes flicked upward, no moon, only a yawning sky. She didn’t remember willing herself here. But someone had pulled her.

Lanfear appeared behind her, as if she had always been there. Moon-pale, wrapped in a gown of onyx that trailed behind her like shadows incarnate. She tilted her head, her bright eyes fixed on Nesta. “You’re far from your Tower now, little flame.”

Nesta didn’t startle, she turned slowly. “You always find me when I least expect it, Lanfear.”

The Forsaken stepped closer, gaze moving over her. “And yet you never truly expect me.” She paused, then added more softly, “I came to see how you're doing. Your dreams have changed a bit.”

Nesta’s throat tightened. “It’s a simple mission.”

“Simple?” Lanfear arched a brow. “Strange dreams and corrupted Waygates. You call that simple?”

Nesta didn’t answer, a gust of wind stirred her hair, and she realized she had shaped this version of herself, still clothed in confidence, but there was something beneath it. Doubt.

Lanfear’s hand rose gently and she brushed a lock of blonde hair behind Nesta’s ear. “Your power grows, but you’re still leashing it like a good pet.” she murmured. “Why?”

“It’s not just mine to unleash. There are oaths, the laws.”

“Laws.” Lanfear echoed, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. “You already bent one, didn’t you? Lied to a Sister and felt the ripple of it inside you twisting.” Her voice dropped softly, “How did that feel?”

A flicker of shame passed through Nesta’s chest, but it wasn’t the lie that haunted her. It was how easy it had been. She hated the question, hated the way Lanfear’s gaze cut through her, and yet, somehow, she didn’t want to leave. There was a strange comfort in the woman's presence. “I didn’t mean to.” she said, unsure if it was an excuse or a confession.

Lanfear’s hand fell to her shoulder, resting there. “There’s more in you. You feel it, don’t you? The shift in your weaves. The way saidar listens too closely, obeys too quickly.”

“I don’t understand it yet.” Nesta admitted.

The Forsaken’s eyes dropped and her fingers moved, brushing the choker at Nesta’s throat. “Liandrin.” Lanfear said, almost to herself. Her voice thickened, wrapped in a bitterness Nesta didn’t expect. “She gave you this, claimed you in the way she could. It’s beautiful, in its way. A collar made of devotion.”

The weight of the choker had always felt warm to her, a reminder of who she belonged to. Not in weakness, but as a choice, a vow made with open eyes. She’d let Liandrin place it around her neck and if Liandrin had asked for her life in that moment, she might’ve given it.

Lanfear's eyes lifted, sharp and soft all at once. “You bonded yourself in more ways than one, little flame." Her thumb traced the curve of the red stones. “And yet...”

“And yet?” Nesta whispered.

“There is something tragic about loving someone in the shadows.” Lanfear said, voice distant now. “Whatever burns too brightly, always ends in ash.”

Nesta stared at her. “Is that what yours ended in?”

Lanfear smiled then, “Mine never ended.”

The world around them flickered, the dream beginning to fray. The fire of the real camp tugged at her and Lanfear’s hand slid away. “Be careful, Nesta.”

The ruins of the Ogier settlement lay silent beneath the heavy ancient trees, their gnarled roots twisting like the fingers of forgotten giants clutching at the earth. Weathered stone walls, broken pillars, and moss-covered statues spoke of a time long past. Nesta’s boots crunched on a bed of fallen leaves, the sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive quiet.

Around her, the Sisters moved with practiced precision. Alanna’s sharp eyes scanned every carved rune and scar on the stonework, while another Green and two Red exchanged cautious whispers. Warders prowled the perimeter, hands never far from their weapons.

Nesta paused beside a shattered circle etched into the earth, the remains of a Waygate long silent. The faint shimmer of residual power pulsed erratically in the air like a heartbeat struggling to survive. She knelt, fingertips brushing the corrupted stone.

Alanna crouched beside her, her brow furrowed in concentration. “This isn’t just simple energy.” she said quietly. “It’s corrupted with the Shadow’s mark.”

A chill ran down Nesta’s spine. “This place feels wrong.”

The group tightened their formation, steps deliberate but cautious. Every snap of twig or rustle of leaves set their nerves on edge. The forest seemed unnaturally still, the usual chorus of birds and insects conspicuously absent. When suddenly, a guttural roar ripped through the stillness, a sound so raw and brutal it seemed to shake the very air. Monstrous Trollocs lunged from the darkness like living nightmares, twisted beasts with snarling maws, claws tearing at the air, eyes wild with bloodlust.

“Stand your ground!” Alanna called, voice sharp and commanding.

Nesta’s hands moved instinctively, weaving saidar with intensity. Flames erupted from her fingertips, lashing out, searing the closest Trolloc’s flesh. The beast roared in agony, staggering back.

The battle ignited into chaos. Branches snapped and splintered as the Trollocs surged forward, their guttural screams echoing like thunder. Nesta’s Power surged wildly, her weaves were untamed. Each strike was brutal, savage, but beautiful in its force.

Her Red Sisters gasped, faces flushed with adrenaline and awe as Nesta unleashed the full fury of her strength. Yet Alanna’s gaze was sharp and wary, flicking from one chaotic weave to another. The girl’s Power roared fiercely but still dangerously unpredictable.

Suddenly, a scream split the battle’s roar, and a Green Sister staggered, clutching a deep, ragged wound in her side where a Trolloc’s claw had raked her. Her warder was instantly there to protect her.

“Link with me, Nesta!” Alanna’s voice cut through the chaos.

Nesta’s breath caught, but she reached out with her own Power, and their flows tangled, crackling with energy. The surge hit her like wildfire, heat and light igniting every nerve, every muscle. Her body trembled under the force, but she held firm, channeling the combined power with growing control.

Together, their weave exploded, lightning and flame, that tore through the remaining Trollocs in a storm of destruction. The beasts screamed, blood mixing with ash and leaves as they fell one by one.

When the last Trolloc fell, silence crashed down over the clearing. Smoke curled from scorched underbrush, and the air shimmered with the fading echo of violent weaves. Nesta’s breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, her hands still trembling with the lingering charge of Power.

Alanna stepped toward her. “Are you hurt?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. Her hands hovered, gently caught Nesta’s shoulders, inspecting her with a practiced but urgent touch.

“I’m fine.” Nesta managed, though her voice was hoarse and her limbs weak from the channeling.

Alanna’s hands lingered a moment longer than necessary, her eyes studying her face, as if seeking a truth beyond the body. “That power.” she said at last, voice low and taut with something that wasn’t quite accusation, but wasn’t comfort either. “It didn’t feel like saidar alone. There was something else in it.”

The words sliced through the haze of victory. Nesta froze, because she had felt it too. Something beneath the surface, curling and twisting with the light. Her weaves had come faster, like instinct took the reins. Not uncontrolled, but still different.

Her mind reeled back to Lanfear’s words. You’re still leashing it like a good pet.

Nesta’s hand drifted unconsciously to the choker at her throat, fingers brushing over the smooth red stones. It pulsed faintly with warmth, or maybe that was just memory.

“I don’t know what you mean.” she said calmly, but even she could hear the hollowness in it.

Alanna didn’t push. She simply watched her a beat longer, then nodded slowly. “We’ll talk later.” she said, softer this time. “Get some water, you burned through a lot of strength.”

Nesta nodded numbly, but her gaze lingered on the blackened clearing and the stench of scorched flesh. Whatever was happening inside her, Lanfear was right. It was growing and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend not to notice.

The road back to the Tower was quieter, the horses shifted restlessly on the narrow trail, hooves clopping on the ground, their breaths fogging in the chill morning air. The group had paused to water the horses near a stream, letting the beasts rest while the Sisters stretched their legs.

Nesta stood a little apart, arms crossed, gazing down at the rippling water. Behind her, voices murmured. Warders checking supplies, a Red Sister muttering a healing weave over a sore ankle of another Red Sister. The tension had finally begun to bleed away, but it clung in places, like bruises yet to bloom.

Alanna approached quietly, brushing a strand of wind-blown hair behind her ear. “You are still on edge.” she said with a small smile. “But your mind is somewhere else.”

Nesta didn’t turn. “There’s always more waiting, isn’t there? Another mission, another threat, another challenge.”

“True.” Alanna stepped up beside her. “But you should let yourself feel what we did. We succeeded, Nesta. Against odds that would’ve killed lesser groups.”

Nesta looked down at her own hands. “It didn’t feel like a victory at the time. It was just survival.”

Alanna huffed a soft laugh. “That’s what most victories feel like in the real world.”

They stood in silence for a moment before Nesta finally asked, “Do you think the Waygate will hold?”

Alanna glanced sideways at her. “It will, the Red Sisters were able to seal the corrupted fissure with your added strength.”

Nesta tensed but nodded. “I could feel something in that place. Like it remembered how it was supposed to be and it just needed a nudge.”

"Everything worked out. We sealed the rot and we did what we came for.”

Nesta finally turned to look at her. “Do you think the Tower will be pleased?”

Alanna smiled faintly, but there was something else behind it. “They’ll be impressed. But they’ll watch you now even more. You channeled too much for the others not to notice.”

“So I should be careful.” Nesta’s gaze flicked away.

“Careful, yes, but not afraid. You were born for this.” Alanna smiled and bumped her shoulder against Nesta’s. “Come on. Let’s not make the others wait. They’ll get grumpy if we don’t start moving soon.”

Nesta took one last look at the stream, then followed her back to the group, the chill in her bones less from the air now and more from the realization of what she was becoming.

The gates of the White Tower loomed ahead, their ancient stone bathed in amber torchlight. The sound of hooves clattered across the courtyard stones as the group returned at last. All of them bone-weary and weather-beaten from the long ride home.

Nesta sat tall in the saddle, though her spine ached from days in the saddle and her hands were stiff from cold reins. Her crimson coat was dulled by travel.

She looked straight ahead, even as her eyes flicked nervously to the assembled crowd waiting at the base of the stairs. A few Sisters gathered, but one figure stood slightly apart. Liandrin.

Her hair was down, loose and gleaming in the torchlight, the golden strands brushing the deep red of her gown. She looked like she had come here from her chambers. Her arms were folded, but her posture betrayed the tension in her shoulders. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Just watched.

Nesta dismounted slowly, her legs stiff and sore. The ground felt too solid beneath her boots after so long in motion. She handed her reins to a waiting stablehand and gave a curt nod to Alanna and the others.

Liandrin’s gaze swept over her from head to toe. No wounds, no visible blood. But she saw the careful way Nesta walked. The slight stiffness in her neck, the subtle wince as she shifted her weight.

She had imagined a hundred versions of this moment over the past ten nights. The silence of her quarters had become a torment, each hour without news coiling tighter in her chest. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time. Her nights were spent pacing, her mind replaying every danger that could’ve taken Nesta away. She had never waited for anyone in her life. And it had been agony.

Nesta stopped a few paces away, dust clinging to her coat, her hair mussed from wind and days without care. She met Liandrin’s gaze, and for a heartbeat, her weariness melted into something gentler. Her lips twitched into a tired smile. “Missed me?”

Liandrin didn’t answer right away. Her arms remained folded across her chest, her face unreadable, but her blue eyes flicked over Nesta with something too sharp to be indifference. Her silence stretched just a beat too long and Nesta’s smile finally faltered.

The answer was yes. A scream of yes, clawing inside Liandrin's throat. But instead she said, “Get inside. You look like you’re going to collapse.”

Nesta blinked. Her heart gave a small, absurd lurch. She should have expected it. Should’ve known better than to think Liandrin would meet her with anything close to softness in public. And still, that answer hit harder than she’d anticipated. Not even, you’re safe, or you made it back. Just an order, as if Nesta had done something wrong by returning in the late evening and alive.

“I’m fine.” she said firmly. But her own lie tasted bitter.

Liandrin narrowed her eyes. “You’re stiff and you're hiding a limp. Don’t tell me you’re fine.” The words came out like scolding. But beneath them, buried deep was fear.

At that moment, Nesta noticed the faint shadows beneath Liandrin’s eyes, the uncharacteristic slump in her posture. She didn’t argue, only stepped closer. The edge of her coat brushed her lover’s arm as she passed. Close enough that Liandrin could feel the warmth radiating from her body. Close enough that the scent of travel and forest and Nesta’s skin curled around her.

Liandrin didn’t follow right away. She lingered behind for a bit longer, her jaw clenched. She had imagined this moment so many times and every version had ended in loss. But Nesta had come back.

The door to their chambers clicked shut behind them with a soft finality. Nesta didn’t say a word. She moved through the familiar space, not looking back at Liandrin. Her boots were shed near the threshold, her coat unfastened with aching fingers.

Liandrin remained near the door, her spine taut, arms still crossed, watching. She didn’t trust herself to move. Every instinct screamed at her to go to Nesta, to touch her, to speak, to fall to her knees and admit the bone-deep relief flooding her body. But all that came out was silence.

The ache of waiting hadn’t left her. Not after all the sleepless nights, the false starts, the sudden turns in the corridor when footsteps approached and she thought, even hoped, that it might be Nesta. It had worn her thin in a way she hadn’t expected, hadn’t been prepared for.

She had always waited for no one. Always stood alone. Always dictated the rules. But Nesta had taken that control and shattered it, piece by piece, just by existing.

But now she saw every detail. The exhaustion in Nesta’s posture. The stiff, careful way she walked, like her muscles had locked into the saddle after so many days of riding. The faint, grim line around her mouth that said she was pushing through pain without complaint. It made Liandrin’s jaw clench in helpless fury. She wanted to lash out and to cradle her at the same time. But most of all, she wanted to close the space between them and just breathe.

And yet she didn’t move. Because fear was winning, whispering that if she let down her guard, if she showed what more than ten days of silence and shadows had done to her, Nesta would see too much. And Liandrin couldn’t bear that kind of exposure.

Nesta didn’t need to speak to know she was being watched and held at arm’s length by a woman who’d spent more than ten days pacing these very floors, waiting. And now that she was back, whole, bruised but unbroken, she could feel the storm still lingering behind Liandrin’s silence. But she wouldn’t push.

So she knelt down and began to draw the bath herself, sleeves rolled up, face calm. The water sluiced in with a steady, echoing rhythm, steam slowly unfurling into the air. Her back was to Liandrin purposefully. Not in punishment, but in quiet understanding. If Liandrin wanted to speak, she would. And until then, Nesta gave her space to do so.

Behind her, Liandrin hadn’t moved an inch. She should have said something, anything. She should have embraced Nesta at the gates, or even brushed a strand of dust-matted hair from her cheek. But she hadn’t.

She hated how deeply the fear had sunk into her bones, leaving her sleep-deprived and on edge. And now Nesta was here, not demanding affection. Not angry or accusing. Just quiet.

Liandrin swallowed and finally stepped forward, slow and hesitant. Her voice, when it came, was roughened by exhaustion. “You didn’t even look at me.”

Nesta paused, her hand resting on the rim of the tub. She didn’t turn, but her voice was soft, gentle. “I did and you know it.”

The sound of the water sloshing was the only answer for a moment, until Liandrin’s boots struck the stone floor in two sharp steps closer. “You looked right through me.” she snapped, harsher now.

Nesta turned her head slightly, not all the way, just enough for Liandrin to see the side of her face. “I looked at you, Lia. You were so distant. I didn’t know if you wanted me to come closer.”

Liandrin blinked, stunned. “What?”

“You shut me out the second I stepped off that horse.” Nesta said, still not turning fully.

Liandrin flinched, as if struck. Her hands clenched at her sides. This time she snapped, louder. “Do you think I...” Her breath caught, voice catching between fury and vulnerability. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to sit here and not know if you’d ever come back?”

Nesta finally turned fully, the heat of the bath forgotten. “I had a mission.”

Liandrin let out a bitter laugh. “Yes, of course. A mission.” Her eyes were gleaming now, bright with a rage that barely masked the pain beneath. “And I was here. Left to rot in my own skin while you were out there. Bleeding for the Tower.”

She took another step, her voice cracking. “I could barely sleep, Nesta. I couldn’t breathe.”

Nesta’s heart clenched, the words digging into her like thorns. “Liandrin...”

“I hate this feeling.” Liandrin hissed, her voice shaking. “I hate that I had to wait for you.”

Nesta’s expression softened, her lips parting in a breathless exhale. “But you did and I am here now.”

“I couldn’t do anything else!” Liandrin barked, and her voice finally cracked completely. “I didn’t know what else to do except wait and hope!”

She stopped abruptly, breathing hard. Her fists trembled at her sides, fingers curling in and out as if caught between lashing out and holding on. The silence after her outburst hung heavy in the chamber. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow gasps, and her eyes were glassy and afraid.

Nesta didn’t hesitate, she crossed the space between them in a few quiet steps. One hand rose slowly and she brushed her fingertips along Liandrin’s sharp cheek. Her voice softer than it had been all evening. “I’m here, Lia.” she said simply.

Liandrin’s eyes fluttered shut. She stood perfectly still, like something cornered, too proud to crumble. “I don’t know how to do this.” she whispered. “I don’t know how to wait. I am not used to miss somebody so much it makes me sick.”

“You don’t have to know how.” Nesta replied, unwavering. “Just let yourself feel it. I’m not going anywhere.”

Liandrin exhaled sharply, like her lungs had been bound for days and only now remembered how to breathe. A single shuddering breath tore from her chest, and then another, quieter, more broken. Her arms came up desperately. She reached for Nesta like she’d been drowning and finally found her air.

And Nesta caught her. She stepped into Liandrin’s arms and pulled her close. There was no teasing in her touch, no hesitation. Just warmth and safety. Liandrin buried her face in Nesta’s shoulder, and her hands clung tightly to the back of her clothes.

Nesta tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against Liandrin’s temple, then her lips. A soft, reverent kiss. “I love you and I missed you.”

Liandrin blinked rapidly, eyes wet but unspilled. “I thought I’d ruined it.” she murmured. “The way I acted...” Her throat closed on the words. “I was angry, but not at you, just afraid. I’ve never had to wait like that. I never wanted someone to return so badly I thought I’d lose my mind.” her voice cracked, and she looked away.

“I understand it.” Nesta said gently.

Liandrin’s shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, love.” she breathed.

“Just let me in when it gets too heavy.”

Liandrin nodded back.

The bath water had long since begun to steam, the air around them warmed by it. And Nesta shifted slightly, brushing her fingers over Liandrin’s hand, then gently stepping back. “I should get in before it cools.”

“I’ll help.” Liandrin started, a step forward already instinctive.

But Nesta shook her head with a soft smile. “Just sit with me."

Liandrin hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded, backing slowly to the chair near the mirror. Nesta turned back to the tub and began to undress.

“Let me.” she said, already rising. Her voice was steadier now, but gentler, stripped of command.

Nesta paused, surprised but not resisting, and let Liandrin come closer. The woman’s hands were warm, careful as she reached for the ties of the shirt.

“I was angry that you’ve been out there for so long.” Liandrin murmured as she slid the fabric away. “Without me.”

“You are angry.” Nesta replied, a soft huff of amusement.

“Yes.” Liandrin’s mouth twitched, just faintly. “And still I would have burned the world down if you hadn’t returned.”

“I would’ve found my way back to you regardless.”

Nesta stepped out of the remaining clothes and lowered herself into the warm bath. The heat seeped into her aching limbs, making her sigh. She leaned back against the curve of the tub, letting her eyes close. The journey back had left her feeling carved out, her body sore.

She heard the sound of soft rustling and then the subtle shift of fabric as Liandrin moved again. When Nesta opened her eyes, Liandrin was kneeling beside the bath, sleeves rolled up, a cloth in hand.

“I can do it myself.” Nesta said softly.

“I know, pet.” Liandrin dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, and reached out.

It moved gently over her skin in slow strokes. Liandrin said nothing at first, each movement of her hands felt like a worship. She washed Nesta’s arms, her neck, her collarbone, and the top of her back.

Liandrin dipped the cloth again, wringing it out carefully. She swept it down Nesta’s spine next, her voice finally breaking the hush between them, “What happened out there?”

Nesta closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth soak into her words before answering. “The Waygate was as the reports said, wrong. Tainted, twisted somehow. And Trollocs were drawn to it.” She paused, tilting her head slightly as Liandrin moved to her side. “We didn’t even have time to set up camp before they came.”

Liandrin’s fingers brushed over her hip, her cloth pausing as if her body flinched at the memory. “Were you afraid?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, but not in the way I expected.” Nesta said. “I knew what to do. But Alanna noticed something strange.”

“What do you mean?” The question was sharp, but Liandrin’s hands remained tender as she ran the cloth along Nesta’s tigh.

“When we linked, she said it didn’t feel like saidar alone. She flinched from me.” Nesta’s voice lowered. “I felt it too. Like something else stirred inside my weaves.”

Liandrin’s hands stilled, cloth resting against Nesta’s skin. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Of course not.” Nesta turned her head to look at her. “You’re the only one who knows it. I’d never risk by saying too much.”

Liandrin finished the last of the rinsing in silence, standing up as she reached for a towel. Her movements were reverent as she helped Nesta rise from the bath, wrapping her in warm fabric. The towel moved against damp skin as she dried her arms, then moved behind her, drawing it up along her back and shoulders.

“Thank you, Lia.”

Liandrin didn’t answer right away. She held the towel around Nesta’s shoulders for a moment longer. “Don’t thank me. Just stay with me.”

Nesta turned in the towel, still damp and flushed from the heat, and cupped Liandrin’s cheek in her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.” she said softly. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

Liandrin’s eyes fluttered shut again, and she leaned into the touch this time. Their room was dimly lit now, and Nesta dried herself fully, pulling on the soft shirt left on the nearby chair. And Liandrin changed too.

When they finally slipped into bed, Nesta reached for her first. Liandrin came willingly, curling close, fitting herself against her chest with a sigh that sounded like surrender.

For a while, they lay in silence. Nesta’s fingers idly traced slow circles on Liandrin’s back, feeling her tension slowly ebb away under her touch. The older woman’s breathing evened out.

“I couldn’t sleep without you.” Liandrin admitted, barely louder than a breath. “Every night felt like my heart was bleeding.”

Nesta pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I felt it too.” she whispered. “But we’re here.”

Liandrin’s hand found Nesta’s beneath the sheets, twining their fingers together tightly. “Promise me, Lioness.” she murmured. Her voice was almost too soft to catch, but Nesta heard every syllable. She heard the fear behind them, the vulnerability Liandrin never showed to anyone else.

“I promise, Lia.” she said, her thumb brushing gently over Liandrin’s knuckles.

“I love you.” Liandrin whispered.

"I love you so much too.”

Liandrin exhaled shakily, her eyes stung, but she didn’t cry. She just let herself feel it. The safety, the warmth and Nesta’s arms wrapped around her. “Sleep well, my Lioness.” she murmured.

“Goodnight, my love.” Nesta whispered, holding her tighter.

Wrapped together in the quiet dark, they drifted into sleep.

#liandrin guirale #lanfear #wheel of time #liandrin guirale x reader #kate fleetwood #lanfear x reader #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin sedai

8 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 23 days ago

Text

Chapter 24 | Her Shadows Are Mine

Notes: I hope you all survive this chapter's smut scene. Honestly, smut is hard to write, but I hope it's not that hard to read - around 9k words

Nesta stood in the Hall of the Tower, the seven Ajah Sitters loomed before her, faceless and cold, their hoods pulled low like executioners. Behind them, the walls stretched impossibly tall were cracked and half-shattered. Chunks of the walls lay in ruin, and beyond them, the sky gaped open. There was no ceiling. Just endless gray.

Ash drifted down from above in a relentless fall, coating everything in a layer of death. It clung to Nesta’s hair. The air was thick with it, like the world had ended and she had been left behind to watch its final judgment.

At the center stood the Amyrlin Seat. Siuan Sanche wore the stole of every Ajah, but her expression was carved from ice. Eyes like frozen steel, lips unmoving except for the words that lashed out like a sentence, “You are too dangerous, Nesta Sedai. Too wild and uncontrollable.”

Nesta’s mouth opened, desperate to say, that she had earned her place, that she belonged here, but no sound came. Her throat constricted like invisible hands were choking her. Her limbs refused to move, as if the Tower itself had woven its roots into her bones.

The crimson of her new red robes darkened, bleeding into the floor like her blood.

The collar shimmered into Siuan’s hands, the a’dam. The chain coiled between the Amyrlin’s fingers like a living thing, its surface reflected different memories. Shattered pieces of faces, of screams, of fights, of women kneeling. The bracelet already glowed on Siuan’s wrist, pulsing in rhythm with Nesta’s thundering heart. A mirror of her dreadful terror.

“You will obey.” Siuan whispered, stepping forward with the patience of inevitability. Her voice held no anger, no joy. Only certainty. “You are ours to command.”

Nesta tried to run, but her legs didn't move. She tried to scream, but her mouth stayed open, useless and silent. The collar hovered over her for a breath and then it brushed her skin and the world stopped. A shimmer of burning heat bloomed across her throat, and with a sickening metallic click, it snapped shut. The a’dam fused to her like a brand. The chain slithered down, settling against her chest like a declaration of ownership.

She collapsed to her knees. Her muscles convulsed, pain exploded behind her eyes. Her whole body trembled with fear, fingers clawing at the collar, nails scraping, but the metal was immovable. Her wrists spasmed. She could feel it now the invisible leash.

And a voice in her head whispered: This is what you are now. A weapon with no will.

Nesta’s heart shattered beneath the weight of it. Her power, everything she had fought for meant nothing. She was just a thing. Owned and broken before the world could even try.

And still, no one moved. The Sitters remained still, as lifeless as statues and Siuan Sanche looked down on her unblinking. But somewhere inside her, something snarled. Nesta bared her soul to it, flung her will against the collar’s command. She will not yield.

Sanche’s expression shifted. The calm mask cracked, as her hand twitched, and sharp pain bloomed through the collar this time worse. Nesta felt like her skull would split open. But still she didn’t bow.

That was when the door behind her opened. Footsteps echoed over ashy floor and Leane walked in with a leash in her hand. The collar shimmered with the same silver light, but the other end of it was already attached. Nesta’s breath caught in her chest, as her eyes stopped on Liandrin, who stood with her head bowed. Her face was bruised, split at the lip, and her hands hung limp at her sides. The collar around her neck gleamed like a chain forged in pure pain. Her eyes once full of fire were dulled now.

Instinctively, Nesta reached for her, but her arms wouldn’t move. The collar yanked hard on her soul. Liandrin’s eyes lifted to hers, and in them, she saw only what was left. Love and defeat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. They had made promises in the dark, whispered dreams between tangled sheets. They were going to make a place for themselves in a Tower that never loved them. Nesta had believed, had fought and clawed her way through fire to reach it.

“She fought too.” Leane said with a smile. “But we all end where we’re meant to, eventually.”

She knelt beside Nesta, fixing the leash to her collar with a delicate click. “You should be grateful, damane.” she added. “It’s easier when you stop pretending. You and her, this was always how it would end.”

The tears came hot and fast, carving down the girl’s cheeks before she could stop them. Her shoulders shook as the realization of it all crushed her. What they’d taken from her, what they’d taken from Liandrin.

She hadn’t broken under pain, but she broke under that. And all around them, the Tower of ruins stood silent, and the sky still open to ash.

“Breathe, little flame.”

The world twisted at her voice, the nightmare unraveling as though it had never existed. Nesta’s surroundings blurred, the shattered walls with the endless expanse of ash were gone. She felt the ground beneath her shift, softening into something warm.

For a moment, Nesta thought she had woken, but her surroundings were unfamiliar. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden light over a humble cottage nestled on a rocky hill. Beyond, the sea stretched out endlessly, its surface shimmering like glass, reflecting the fading light of the day. The sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks below reached her ears, a steady, rhythmic lullaby.

She sat, cross-legged, on the floor of the house. Her clothes had changed, she wore simple black pants and a loose white tunic, the fabric soft against her skin. Her hair, once bound tightly, hung freely around her shoulders, as if the very air here allowed her to breathe deeply.

The walls of the house were simple and worn, the stone and wood battered by time and weather. A small fire crackled in the hearth, its warm glow flickering across the room and casting dancing shadows on the walls. The atmosphere was peaceful, calm in a way that felt like it had existed for centuries, untouched by the chaos and violence of the world.

Outside, birds flew in the distance, their calls echoing softly on the wind. The breeze carried with it the scent of salt from the sea. Every part of this space felt truly safe.

She blinked, slowly coming to her senses. The world felt gentler, but something inside her stirred, unsettled by the change and the absence of the suffocating weight of the Tower.

Lanfear stood near the window, gazing out at the horizon, her back to the girl. There was a softness to her stance now, something Nesta had never seen in the woman before. The sharp edges of her usual demeanor were gone, replaced by vulnerability.

The sound of waves crashing on the shore seemed to grow louder, almost as if the world outside had embraced this moment of calm. Lanfear slowly turned, her eyes meeting Nesta’s, a flicker of sorrow passed through them. She had seen the nightmare, felt the weight of the collar on Nesta’s soul.

She moved toward the bed, her steps graceful, carrying the burden of silent protectiveness. As if each step away from the nightmare and toward this quiet place might shelter her better. The bed was simple, a wide mattress covered in soft linen, sitting just beneath the large window that framed the endless sea. It was the one place Lanfear had ever felt safe, but until now, she had never shared it.

The Forsaken sat down, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight, and glanced out at the horizon for a breath. Then, she patted the space beside her, an invitation, not a command. “Come, little flame.” she said, her voice low and even. “It’s warmer here by the light.”

Nesta hesitated. Her heart was still tangled in the nightmare’s thorns, her limbs heavy with its lingering ache. But something in Lanfear’s not demanding voice made her move. She crossed the small room in slow steps, the wooden floor warm beneath her bare feet. She sat down beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. And for the first time since the nightmare, Nesta exhaled without pain. “What is this place?”

Lanfear’s voice was soft but firm. “It’s a place I’ve come to, when the weight of everything else becomes too much. It’s been mine, for as long as I can remember.”

Nesta frowned slightly, her mind still clouded by the remnants of the nightmare, but curiosity pushed her forward. “Why bring me here?”

Lanfear didn’t answer immediately. She tilted her head, looking out at the sea again. “Because for once, I wanted you to see something different.” she said quietly, “To know that I’m not all of the things you think I am. Even someone like me can have moments of kindness.”

Nesta couldn’t quite swallow the words. She was used to Lanfear’s arrogance, her biting words and cruel actions. This tenderness didn’t fit the woman she thought she knew.

“You saved me.” she said, her voice trembling, as though the truth of that statement might break her. “Why?”

Lanfear let out a soft sigh, "I don’t know. But I am definitely not a hero here.” she said with quiet honesty. “I’ve done terrible things. Things that I’d do again if the circumstances called for it.” She looked at Nesta, her eyes intense.

“Still, thank you.”

Lanfear’s lips curved, not quite into a smile, but something softer. “You don’t need to thank me.” she murmured. “Just rest, while you can.”

Nesta’s throat tightened at her words. There was a strange softness in them. The one that unsettled her more than cruelty ever could. She studied the woman beside her, the fall of black hair over one shoulder, the way she sat so relaxed. Alone, in a place she called safe.

“Why this place, when the world becomes too much?” Nesta asked softly.

“It’s the only place I’ve never had to share with anyone. Until now.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. Lanfear didn’t look at her, only stared out the window as if the sea might hold an answer she’d never found.

“It’s quiet here.” she said after a long pause. “No voices demanding things of me. No schemes, no eyes watching, waiting for me to stumble. Just silence. I built it like this so nothing could follow me here. No memories, no ghosts, only me.”

The silence between them held weight, but now it felt more fragile. An understanding between two people who knew what it meant to carry too much, to wear armor until it felt like skin.

Nesta reached over, barely brushing Lanfear’s hand with her fingertips. “You’re not alone tonight.” she said.

“By the way, congratulations are in order, Nesta. You’ve passed your final test.” Lanfear’s lips curled, almost like a smile, but it was faint.

Nesta blinked, startled by the change of the topic. “I felt you there.”

“I watched its echo ripple through Tel’aran’rhiod.” Lanfear clarified, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “The way the Pattern quivered, you really forced it to bend around you.”

“I passed.”

“You did more than pass.” Lanfear murmured. “But that Tower, it doesn’t know what to do with someone like you. Especially now.”

“What do you mean?” Nesta stiffened, her heart racing.

The Forsaken tilted her head, considering. “When you swore yourself to Liandrin, do you remember the exact words?”

Nesta froze. “I..." she began, but the memory flashed sharp and vivid, I swear, as long as I’m breathing, I will always be by your side. I swear it on my soul, on my body, and everything that I am. Your past, your scars, your ghosts, they’re all mine now.

Her stomach twisted. “It was personal.”

“Maybe, but maybe not.” Lanfear said firmly. “But words have weight, Nesta. Especially when spoken with conviction between channelers.”

She felt a wave of confusion and dread crash over her. The realization hit her with the force of a thunderclap. “You’re saying I…”

“You bonded yourself in more ways than one.” Lanfear finished, watching her carefully. “In a way the Tower never trained you to understand. And Liandrin wasn’t alone in her choices.”

A beat passed, then Lanfear’s voice dropped to a murmur, “When you gave her your oath, something claimed you too.”

Nesta’s whole body went cold. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

Lanfear's gaze softened. "It's not a curse, little flame. Not unless you make it one. But it's something you'll have to reckon with, sooner or later." she paused, giving Nesta a moment to process. "But I thought you should know, because no matter what they say, or what they try to make you believe, you're not just an Aes Sedai. You're more than that."

“The oath...” Nesta said, voice tight. “But I meant it, every word. I won’t pretend otherwise.”

Lanfear’s lips twitched between approval and sadness. “Just make sure you know who you're fighting for, when the time comes.” she said.

They sat in silence, the ocean winds whistling softly beyond the window. Lanfear shifted slightly, reaching out, not with her usual predatory grace, but with something quieter. Her hand came to rest on Nesta’s shoulder. There was no heat in the touch, no seduction, only comfort, offered without demand.

Nesta didn’t lean into it, but didn’t pull away either. The warmth of Lanfear’s palm seeped through the thin fabric of her tunic. She stared out at the sea, listening to the rhythm of the waves crashing against the rocky shore, the distant call of gulls in the wind.

She thought of the oath she had given Liandrin, how her voice hadn’t trembled, how her heart had spoken without fear. Even now, even after everything, there was no regret. She loved her. And if walking beside Liandrin meant stepping into shadow, she wouldn’t flinch, because she had never expected a lighted path.

The silence lingered, deep and sacred, and Lanfear didn’t speak again. In that small house on the hill, with the sea before them, Nesta finally let her eyes close and relax.

The morning light filtered softly through the window, casting a warm glow over tangled sheets and bare skin. Liandrin held Nesta against her. The girl’s head rested on her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of the heartbeat. One of Liandrin’s arms curled tightly around Nesta’s shoulders, the other cradling the back of her head. Her own leg was slung securely over Nesta’s hips, keeping her close.

Their bodies were still slick with the remnants of their connection, breath warm between them. Nesta lay quietly, her hand splayed over Liandrin’s ribs, feeling the rise and fall of every breath.

“When I was younger, I remember feeling hollow.” Liandrin murmured, “As if I’d left something behind I could never get back. Everyone congratulated me, but I couldn’t feel it. I’d carved myself into the Tower’s shape. And at the end, there was nothing left of me.” Her voice was low, but steady. “No one told me that becoming Aes Sedai meant killing the girl I had been. Or that she would still scream inside me, years later.”

Nesta’s tilted her face slightly, her cheek brushing Liandrin’s collarbone. “Do you still hear her?”

“Some days she’s louder than others.”

Nesta’s fingers grazed Liandrin’s side, tracing idle circles as she gently pressed a kiss to Liandrin’s breast, a soft, tender gesture meant to comfort. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, Lia.” she whispered, her voice low and full of warmth. “I’m here, always.”

Her fingers continued their soothing movement along Liandrin’s skin, each touch a quiet promise, her presence a steadying force. She didn’t need to say more, her actions spoke louder than words ever could. And Liandrin sighed with relief, her body relaxing beneath Nesta’s soft touch.

“I think, I’m becoming someone new.” Nesta whispered. “I passed the Arches and the final test, but I felt it change something inside me.” Her fingers tightened slightly. “Sometimes, I look in the mirror and still see the girl who was afraid, angry, and always hungry for more. But then you hold me and it’s like I remember why I wanted to be strong in the first place.”

Liandrin exhaled slowly, a soft sound that trembled against Nesta’s ear. “You are strong.” she said fiercely. “Not because you passed a test. Because you don’t run, you stay. Even now.”

Nesta nodded against her chest. Liandrin’s grip tightened instinctively, her leg pulling Nesta in just a little closer, as if to anchor her. “I will always be here for you. Whatever comes. I swear it.”

Liandrin’s fingers trailed lightly over the back, as if trying to ground herself in the softness of the moment. But the tightness in her chest, the gnawing fear that had been with her for so long, still remained. She could feel it in the quiet moments between them. In the way Nesta’s body was molded to hers, the way their breaths seemed to sync. It was perfect, and yet, it terrified her.

Nesta’s words still echoed in her mind, No matter the color, I will always be with you. Remember it.

Did Nesta know? Had she guessed? Liandrin swallowed against the lump in her throat.

What would Nesta do if she knew the truth? What would she say if she learned what she had done, who she truly was? Would she still stay with her? The thoughts made Liandrin’s chest tighten painfully. She pressed her lips gently to the top of Nesta’s head, shutting her eyes to fight back the rising wave of fear.

“You are the best thing that happened to me, Lioness.” she whispered, her voice strained, yet full of a tenderness she couldn’t hide.

Nesta, still nestled against her, gave a soft, reassuring hum, her hand resting lightly over ribs. She lifted her head, meeting Liandrin’s gaze. Her eyes were full of love and certainty. “I love you, Lia.” she murmured, her voice sincere. “Nothing will ever change that.”

Liandrin’s heart clenched at the words, at the meaning they carried. But the words echoed against the truth she couldn’t silence. The moment hung heavy between them, but Nesta’s touch, her gentle hold on her, made Liandrin feel like she was something more than the mistakes of her past. The warmth of her love burned bright, though the fear still lingered, always waiting in the shadows.

As they entered the chamber, Nesta couldn’t help but stand tall, her posture firm and assured. She wore the deep crimson of the Red Ajah robes. Her attire was a testament to her strength, to the pride she felt in joining their ranks.

But it wasn’t just the robes that drew the eyes of the Red Ajah members. It was the red choker, a simple yet powerful symbol of her bond with Liandrin. The stones gleamed with a hypnotic intensity, a mark of ownership. Its presence a reminder of where Nesta’s heart truly lay, despite what the world saw or expected of her.

Liandrin noticed the way some of the Red Ajah members’ gazes flickered to the choker, their expressions unreadable but thoughtful. As Nesta stood beside her, confident and unapologetic, Liandrin felt a surge of both pride and protectiveness. Nesta’s certainty in her place in the Ajah, was a strength she admired. But the choker was a reminder of the mark of her claim, and one that could never be erased.

The Red Ajah was known for its severity, its unwavering devotion to the Three Oaths. They were a group not easily impressed or swayed. Nesta could feel their eyes on her, some assessing, others wary, and one or two, like Tsutama, openly curious.

Tsutama was a striking woman with intelligent eyes. Her face was soft in its features, with a touch of compassion that didn’t quite hide the calculating edge beneath. Dressed in the deep red of her Ajah, she looked like someone who had seen it all and was still unyielding, yet the gentleness in her eyes spoke of a hidden warmth. She smiled warmly as Liandrin introduced Nesta, but there was a carefulness in her movements.

“Welcome, Sister.” Tsutama said softly, her voice smooth but with an underlying wariness that only Liandrin would pick up. "We’ve been hearing much about you."

“Thank you, Tsutama,” Nesta replied evenly, her voice steady and clear, though the words felt sharper than usual. She met her gaze with her own, refusing to let the silent judgment unseat her.

Liandrin’s voice cut through the brief silence, low and controlled. “Nesta has proven herself, as I knew she would.”

Nesta felt her stomach twist as she met Tsutama’s eyes, her sharp gaze studying her like an intriguing puzzle. There was a welcoming warmth, but there was no hiding the cool edge that slid across Tsutama’s expression when her gaze shifted briefly to Liandrin. It was as if Tsutama’s trust in her was never fully gained. Liandrin’s jaw tightened imperceptibly at the look but she said nothing. Instead, she placed a hand on Nesta’s lower back, guiding her forward with the confidence she always projected.

As the introductions continued, Nesta couldn’t shake the feeling that every member of the Red Ajah was watching her, gauging her, assessing her worth. They were elegant in their robes, but each of them exuded power, an unspoken certainty in who they were and what they stood for.

One of the Red Sister's, a woman with platinum blonde hair and pale, green eyes, spoke next. Her voice was commanding, though not unkind. “What is your place here, if I may ask?” she asked, her eyes flicking to Liandrin before settling on Nesta.

Nesta felt the meaning of the question press on her chest. She had thought of herself as someone apart from the Tower, someone still struggling to find her true place. But as she stood before these women, each one powerful and unbowed, she realized that her answer would decide what path she would walk from this moment on.

“I am here because I believe in the strength of this Ajah.” Nesta said with conviction, her eyes steady as she spoke. "And I will walk with you all, no matter where it leads." Her voice rang out in the room.

The Red Sister nodded, seemingly satisfied, but Tsutama’s expression softened as she gave a small, appreciative nod to Nesta. The woman’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before she turned her attention back to Liandrin, her eyes briefly narrowing in a mixture of suspicion and cautious respect.

Liandrin felt the subtle shift in the room, the weight of the unspoken things between her and Tsutama. There was no outright rejection, just the lingering shadows of distrust.

As the meeting continued, Liandrin kept her posture poised and perfect, the practiced calm of her outward demeanor carefully concealing the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. But as she stood beside Nesta, warmth bloomed in her chest at the way her lover held her ground, unflinching in the face of scrutiny.

They sat on a cushioned bench tucked into one of the quieter corners of the Red Ajah quarters, far from the common rooms where voices and footsteps stirred with life. Nesta leaned back against the carved wood, her legs tucked beneath her, watching the flicker of light play against Liandrin’s features. The older woman sat beside her, arms crossed, ankle resting over her knee. Her face was calm, the kind of calmness that held things tightly behind the eyes.

“I haven’t seen Moiraine for a couple of days.” Nesta said softly, not looking directly at her. “Is she away from the Tower?”

Liandrin didn’t answer. Her mouth flattened, lips pressed together in a cold line, a muscle twitched near her temple. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, unmoving. The silence was louder than a shout.

Nesta waited a beat. “You must have heard something.”

“She’s busy.” Liandrin said at last, a little too curtly. “Always has some secret purpose or cause. That’s the way of the Blues.”

Nesta turned her head toward her. “Liandrin...”

Liandrin sighed but didn’t look at her. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, but I know that face you make when someone’s annoying you.” Nesta admitted. “And you’ve been wearing it since I mentioned her.”

“I don’t make it my business to follow Moiraine Damodred around like some lovesick novice.” Liandrin snapped suddenly, the words sharp as a whipcrack.

Nesta blinked at the bite in her tone, but didn’t flinch. She waited.

Liandrin exhaled through her nose, clearly trying to rein herself back in. Her fingers dug into the sleeve of her opposite arm. “Always her name, even now, after everything.” she muttered. “Of course she’s the one on your mind.”

“That’s not fair.” Nesta said quietly. “I’m only asking because it seems strange she vanished.”

“She vanished because that’s what the Blues do. Secrets, manipulations... They vanish when it suits them, and then they come back smelling like heroism.” Liandrin’s voice was venom-soft now. Controlled, but trembling beneath.

Nesta gave her a pointed look. “You’re deflecting.”

Liandrin let out a long breath and turned away again. Silence stretched between them until Nesta reached out, gently placing a hand on her thigh. “I’m not trying to pry.” she said, her voice softer now. “But I see you and I don’t want you to sit here pretending you’re fine when you’re not.”

Liandrin’s mouth twitched. “She’s on a mission.” she said finally.

Nesta blinked. “What kind of mission?”

Liandrin’s lips thinned. “A secret one. The Amyrlin sent her quietly, away from the Hall, away from the Tower’s eyes.”

“That’s unusual, right?” Nesta asked.

“Yes, which makes it all the more convenient that she gets the assignment.” Liandrin replied, her voice sharp now, angry again. “She gets the trust, she gets to matter in ways the rest of us only dream about.”

Nesta sat with that for a moment before she asked, “What’s the mission?”

Liandrin was quiet for a long time. Her knuckles flexed on her arms. “She’s searching for the Dragon Reborn.”

“That’s real?” Nesta’s lips parted, eyes wide.

“Too real, and they sent her to find him.” Liandrin muttered.

Nesta exhaled slowly, searching Liandrin’s face. “You wanted to be the one.”

“No.” Liandrin said. Then, more honestly, “Yes, Nesta.” She turned her face away, ashamed of the rawness in her tone. “I spent years clawing my way into the Tower’s trust, only to be looked at like I’m still one step from betrayal. I breathed their rules, obeyed every command, bent myself to fit their mold. And I was still never enough.”

She closed her eyes. “So yes, I am jealous, because Moiraine never had to fight for what was handed to her freely. The perfect Blue, the calm one, the clever one."

Nesta didn’t flinch from the admission. She only reached up and brushed her thumb along the back of Liandrin’s hand, a quiet gesture of acknowledgment. “You don’t have to prove anything to them.” she murmured. “You don’t need to be perfect for them to see your worth.”

Liandrin exhaled shakily, as if Nesta’s words both comforted and wounded her all over again. “I’ve fought for every ounce of respect in this Tower.” Her laugh was bitter. “They see me and still treat me like I’m dangerous. Like I’m meant to be feared, not followed.”

“They are all fools, Lia.” Nesta said simply. “And you deserve better.”

The words were so direct, so steady, they left Liandrin blinking. She didn’t reply, not right away. Just stared down at their joined hands like it was the only thing anchoring her.

“Come spar with me.” Nesta offered, half-smiling. “Work it out with your fists instead of your tongue.”

Liandrin arched a brow. “You want me to throw you into the floor?”

“You’re already imagining it.”

A reluctant laugh escaped her. “That’s not a denial.”

Nesta stood and tugged her gently by the hand. “Come on, you’ll feel better after.”

Liandrin didn’t move at first. Then her fingers tightened around Nesta’s, and she rose in one smooth, graceful motion.

“All right, but don’t complain when you lose.” she murmured.

“I only complain when you don’t hit me hard enough.”

That earned a sharp look and a genuine smile. The storm behind Liandrin’s eyes hadn’t passed, but in that moment, Nesta gave her the one thing the Tower never had, a choice not to be alone in it.

The training yard had emptied with the sunset, leaving only the echo of distant footsteps. It was quiet, save for the shuffle of boots against the padded floor of the sparring ring.

Liandrin stood opposite Nesta, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. She hadn’t said much since their conversation about Moiraine, and Nesta knew better than to press again. But she’d seen the storm brewing behind her silence. Now it was all about release.

Liandrin moved first, she lunged with controlled precision, striking fast. Nesta blocked the first hit, then twisted to avoid a sweep at her legs, her heart already racing. But from the sheer thrill of watching Liandrin like this.

She fought like a flame barely held in check, each motion sharp and fluid, powerful and beautiful. Her golden hair, braided tight, had loosened enough for strands to frame her face. Sweat slicked along her temples, her breathing fast but steady.

Nesta grinned, as she ducked a strike and used the opening to shove forward, knocking Liandrin slightly off balance. “You’ll have to do better than that.” she teased, though her lungs were already burning.

Liandrin snarled under her breath, half a growl, half a laugh. She retaliated with a ferocity that left Nesta reeling.

Muscles flexed along Liandrin’s arms and shoulders as she moved. Every strike came with the power of someone who trained not just for discipline, but for survival. Her red tunic clung to her like second skin. Each movement sharp, precise, and utterly lethal. Her fists were a blur, her legs coiled with potential like a viper waiting to strike.

A blur of red flashed past Nesta as Liandrin hooked her leg and swept her clean off her feet. The world tilted, and the breath was knocked from Nesta’s lungs as she landed hard on her back. Before she could recover, Liandrin was on her.

One hand caught Nesta’s wrists and pinned them above her head. The other gripped her hip, pressing her down with all the strength that burned through her body. Liandrin straddled her, hair hanging around her face, breath hot and fast between parted lips.

Nesta stilled under her weight, her back pressed against the cold floor, but all she could feel was the searing heat of the woman above her. Liandrin’s thighs straddled her hips, strong and unyielding, pinning her in place with effortless control. Her breath came hard, chest rising and falling just above Nesta’s own. Strands of golden hair clung to her damp forehead.

The fire blazed in Liandrin’s eyes, fierce and unrelenting, not just with rage, but something deeper. Power, hunger, possession. And Nesta felt it all.

Her heart thundered in her chest, not from fear, but from the presence above her. Liandrin wasn’t just beautiful, she was gorgeous. Right now, all of that heat and strength was focused entirely on her.

Nesta’s body responded before her mind could catch up. A broken moan slipped from her lips. Helpless, involuntary, like her body had betrayed how much she wanted her right now.

And Liandrin heard it. She froze, gaze locking on her face. There, beneath the sweat and flushed skin, was only desire now. The last of anger gone, all the tension that had wound Liandrin tight, the resentment, the rage, the grief of a life spent fighting shadows, bled into need. Pure possession.

“Pet.” she whispered, low and rough.

Her hand slid from Nesta’s hip up to her throat slowly, each inch claimed with the certainty of someone who knew exactly what they possessed. Her fingers brushed the curve of Nesta’s collarbone first, then trailed upward until they curled around her throat. Just enough to remind them both of not just who Nesta belonged to, but who she had chosen again and again.

Her palm rested over the quickened pulse beneath the girl’s skin, where heat and want throbbed with every heartbeat. Liandrin felt the tremble in her, and she held her there with possessive strength, her thumb brushing just under jaw.

Nesta’s lips parted, her breath hitching, and Liandrin felt not just arousal, but something far more dangerous. Desire paired with trust and surrender. Nesta wasn’t afraid of her strength. She welcomed it, craved it with her whole being. A rush of dark satisfaction bloomed in her chest. It wasn’t just lust, that roared through her, but the realization of being wanted this way.

Liandrin leaned closer, as her voice dropped to a murmur. “You enjoy it, don’t you?” she said, with the faintest curve of amusement at the edge of her words. A teasing challenge. “Being mine like this.”

Nesta’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look away. Her eyes gleamed with heat, hips pressing upward slightly. And then she whispered, just loud enough for Liandrin to hear, “Maybe, but you’ll have to work harder to really earn it.”

That was all it took. Liandrin’s breath left her in a rush, somewhere between a growl and a laugh. She rose swiftly, every inch of her body humming with purpose, and yanked Nesta up with her. Neither of them said a thing, Liandrin’s hand tight around Nesta’s wrist, as she dragged her out of the training yard.

The Tower corridors seemed to part for them, torches flaring as they passed, the air behind them restless, as if the walls themselves could sense the storm brewing between them. There would be no restraint tonight, only flame.

The door slammed shut behind them with a heavy thud. Nesta barely had time to gasp before she was pinned, Liandrin’s body crashing into hers, pressing her against the door with possessive force. One of Liandrin’s hands braced beside her head, the other curled tightly around her neck, fingers digging into her like she needed to feel every inch of her being.

And then Liandrin kissed her with fire. Her mouth crushed Nesta’s with hungry desperation, lips bruising immediately. Her teeth grazed Nesta’s lower lip, biting down to make her gasp, and the moment her mouth parted, Liandrin’s tongue swept in to claim her again.

The girl whimpered into her mouth, her fingers tangling in the collar of Liandrin’s tunic, pulling her closer. She felt the heat of Liandrin’s thigh between hers, the powerful muscles flexing as she leaned in harder, anchoring Nesta beneath her. She couldn’t stop the shivering sound that escaped her and she rocked against the pressure instinctively, seeking more.

Liandrin tilted her head, deepening the kiss. Her hand angled the girl's face to dominate the pace. They kissed like they were starving. Like time might end if they dared pull away. Her lips moved lower, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Nesta’s jawline, then down to her neck. She lingered there, teeth scraping against sensitive skin, then nipping at the delicate hollow until Nesta gasped.

She didn’t bite to tease this time, she bit to mark. A sharp moan tore from Nesta’s throat, and Liandrin swallowed it with another kiss, her thigh grinding up again between her legs roughly.

Liandrin’s hands found the hem of Nesta’s tunic and shoved it upward, baring skin as she pressed her body tighter to her lover’s. Nesta’s hands trembled as she clawed at the fastenings of Liandrin’s clothes, panting into her mouth, drunk on the taste of her.

“Light, you’re not even trying to be gentle.”

Liandrin pulled back just enough to see the wrecked look in her eyes. Her voice was a low, possessive. “Do you want gentle now, pet?”

The nickname made Nesta’s thighs clench. “I want you exactly like this.”

Liandrin grabbed her wrist in a tight lock and yanked her away from the door. They stormed toward the bed with urgency. Clothes vanished between steps, each layer torn or shoved aside. Nesta hissed as cool air kissed her bare skin, but the sting was nothing compared to the way Liandrin’s eyes dragged over her body.

By the time they reached the edge of the bed, nothing was left between them.

Liandrin sat first, her back against the headboard, legs spread to command. Her body bore the lines of pure strength, from the sculpted lines of her abdomen to the defined curve of her thighs.

“Come here.” she ordered, voice low and unarguable.

Nesta obeyed without hesitation, straddling her lap with a gasp as their bare skin met. Liandrin’s hands quickly found her hips, fingers digging in possessively, guiding her forward until Nesta was seated fully on her thighs, chest pressed to chest.

Their lips met again, but slower this time. Liandrin kissed her like she could rewrite every ache and wound in her body and soul through touch alone. Nesta’s hands roamed over Liandrin’s shoulders, sliding down her biceps, greedy for the power she held.

“I could ruin you like this.” Liandrin murmured between kisses, her breath hot against the girl’s cheek. “And you’d beg for more, wouldn’t you?”

Nesta answered with a roll of her hips, the slick heat between her thighs meeting the firm muscle of Liandrin’s stomach. “I don’t need to beg, Lia.” she gasped, nails biting into shoulders. “You always give me what I want.”

A dark laugh rumbled through Liandrin’s chest, her hands sliding down to grip Nesta’s ass harder, pulling her even closer, forcing their bodies into a relentless rhythm, “I give it, because you’re mine.” she said roughly.

She leaned in, biting softly at Nesta’s bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue. Liandrin's hands were everywhere at once, anchoring Nesta’s hips, splaying possessively across her back, dragging her even closer until there was no space between them. Nesta’s breasts brushed against hers with every breath. Their bodies aligned perfectly, heart to heart.

“Fuck...” Nesta choked out, her back arching as Liandrin’s teeth scraped her throat.

“That’s the idea.” Liandrin purred, her voice thick with lust. Her grip tightened, forcing Nesta to move harder, faster, until the only sounds in the room were their moans.

And when Nesta’s thighs began to shake, her body coiled tight, Liandrin’s mouth found her ear, her words a dark vow, “Come for me now.”

Her breath hitched as Liandrin’s command sent a jolt of desire through her. Her hips stuttered, the relentless grind turning desperate as pleasure coiled tighter, her clit throbbing against the woman’s thigh.

“I feel you.” Liandrin murmured. Her hands slid down Nesta’s back, nails biting into the curve of her ass, forcing her down harder with every roll of her hips.

Nesta’s moan was a broken, breathless thing as Liandrin’s teeth sank into her shoulder. The wet heat between her thighs was unbearable now.

“That’s it, pet.” Liandrin rasped. She looked up at her as if nothing else in the world mattered, as if Nesta’s unraveling was the only thing she lived for.

Her lover obeyed, thighs trembling as she ground down harder, faster, chasing the pleasure. Liandrin’s fingers dug into her hips, guiding her, controlling the pace until Nesta was nothing but a gasping mess above her. And with a final gasp, she broke apart.

Her back arched violently as the orgasm ripped through her, wave after wave of pleasure crashed over. Her thighs shaking as she rode it out, Liandrin’s grip the only thing keeping her upright.

But before she could even catch her breath, Liandrin flipped her onto her back with a predatory smirk. “We are just getting started.”

Her hand slid between Nesta’s legs, fingers gliding through her slickness before plunging inside with a ruthless thrust.

Nesta gasped, her hips jerking as Liandrin curled her fingers, hitting the spot that made her vision blur.

“Again, come for me again.” Liandrin demanded, her mouth crashing down on Nesta’s in a searing kiss. Her fingers didn’t relent, they moved faster, deeper, her thumb circling Nesta’s clit with cruel precision.

Nesta’s thighs trembled, her nails raking down Liandrin’s back as another orgasm tore through her.

“Good girl.” Liandrin purred against her lips.

Nesta sobbed as Liandrin’s fingers found that perfect angle again, her body bowing off the sheets as pleasure coiled tight. Her climax crashed so hard, so intense it bordered on pain, her cunt clenching around fingers as if begging for more.

Liandrin finally slowed, but didn’t withdraw, her fingers lazily stroking Nesta’s swollen cunt, as she kissed her way down her throat. “Gorgeous.” she whispered, teeth grazing Nesta’s collarbone. “Now let’s see how many more I can get out of you before dawn.”

She added a third finger, stretching her deliciously, her palm grinding against her as she fucked her with relentless strokes. The girl whimpered, oversensitive and shaking, but Liandrin only tightened her grip on her hip, holding her in place.

“You’re not done yet.” she murmured, her breath hot against Nesta’s ear. “I want to feel you come one more time.”

Nesta’s entire body trembled, overstimulated, her skin flushed and slick with sweat. Every nerve was alight, every touch from Liandrin sending fresh sparks of pleasure through her. She was utterly ruined. And yet she couldn’t get enough.

Liandrin’s fingers worked her with ruthless precision. Nesta arched, a broken moan spilling from her lips as another orgasm tore through her. She sobbed, her thighs shaking, but Liandrin didn’t relent, fucking her through it, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

Only then did Liandrin withdraw, her fingers glistening as she brought them to her lips, sucking them clean with a slow swipe of her tongue. Her eyes never left Nesta’s, and in them burned pride. She tasted her as if it was sacred, as if she could consume all the surrender Nesta had given her.

The younger woman watched, her chest heaving, desire coiling low in her belly again despite the exhaustion. Her body was spent, yet the sight of Liandrin tasting her like that, sent a fresh surge of heat curling low in her belly.

She should’ve been overwhelmed, wrecked beyond want, but before Liandrin could tease her further, Nesta surged forward, gripping the back of her neck and dragging her into a kiss.

Their mouths clashed, tongues tangling, Nesta tasted herself on Liandrin’s lips. She nipped at her bottom lip, pulling back just enough to growl, “Move up. Ride my face.”

A genuine laugh broke from Liandrin’s lips. It trembled with disbelief, a kind of helpless awe that she tried and failed to hide. “Greedy thing, aren’t you?” she murmured, her voice thick with arousal.

She moved her body until her thighs caged Nesta’s head, her dripping cunt hovering just above her mouth. Nesta didn’t wait, she gripped Liandrin’s hips and pulled her down, licking a long stripe through her folds.

Liandrin gasped, her fingers tangling in blonde hair, as Nesta devoured her, lapping at her with hungry, open-mouthed strokes. She circled her clit, sucking lightly before plunging her tongue inside, fucking her with it as her hands held Liandrin firmly in place.

“Nesta...” Liandrin’s hips jerked, grinding down against the girl’s mouth as she chased her pleasure. But it wasn’t just the physical bliss that overwhelmed her, but the sight of Nesta beneath her, so eager devouring her.

Nesta could feel the woman’s thighs trembling, hear the way her breath hitched, and she doubled her efforts, swirling her tongue around Liandrin’s clit before sealing her lips around it and sucking hard.

Liandrin’s moan was sharp, her grip on Nesta’s hair tightening painfully. “Yes...”

Every inch of Nesta trembled with the overwhelming need to please, to give, to offer herself entirely. She wanted to drown in it, to show Liandrin that she was worthy of this.

When Liandrin’s thighs clamped around her head, she came with a cry.

Nesta kept her there, drinking her in as Liandrin shuddered above her completely. Her release spilling over Nesta’s lips and all the way down to her chin.

At last, when Liandrin finally pulled away, her chest heaving, she looked down at Nesta’s glistening face and smirked. She looked destroyed, her lips were puffy and wet, her chest rising in frantic little hitches like she’d forgotten how to breathe properly.

“Messy.” the older woman swiped a thumb through the wetness on Nesta’s face, then pressed it against the lips. "Look at you, Lioness." she hissed, her voice wrecked.

Nesta moaned around her finger, her tongue swirling in eager circles, sucking like she was starving for it.

"Every last drop, pet." Liandrin growled.

And she obeyed, hollowing her cheeks as she took Liandrin’s thumb deeper, her eyes fluttering shut in obscene pleasure. When Nesta finally released it with a wet sound, her lips stayed parted. Liandrin smirked, gripping her jaw hard enough to bruise.

"So obedient." she murmured. "You’d swallow anything I gave you, wouldn’t you?"

Nesta’s answering smile was pure sin. "Try me."

Liandrin moved like lightning, and in one brutal motion, she slammed her body down onto her, pinning the girl beneath her full weight. Hips grinding, breasts crushed together, the heat between Nesta’s thighs meeting the pressure of Liandrin’s knee.

Her hand shot up, fingers biting into Nesta’s jaw, forcing her mouth open wider. "Tongue out." she demanded, and Nesta obeyed instantly, the pink tip of her tongue trembling in anticipation.

Liandrin leaned down slowly, her lips brushing Nesta’s ear. "Good girl."

She spat, the thick drop landing directly on her waiting tongue. Blue eyes never left hers, Nesta swallowed, filled with a mixture of surrender and devotion that radiated through her entire being.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from the physical intensity but from the meaning of what was shared in that simple moment. It was trust, vulnerability, and a connection that ran deeper than Nesta had ever known. This act was not one of humiliation but of pure devotion, of giving herself fully to the woman who had claimed her body and heart.

"Again." Liandrin ordered, and this time she spat twice, the strands of saliva glistening as they draped over her lover's tongue. Nesta whimpered but didn’t hesitate, her throat convulsed as she swallowed, then stuck her tongue back out, begging for more.

Liandrin’s grip tightened. "You love this, don’t you?" she breathed, watching Nesta’s lips shine with spit.

"Yes." she hissed, her voice wrecked. "Yours."

Liandrin’s smile was wide and wicked. She spat one last time, right into Nesta’s open mouth, and sealed their lips together in a vicious kiss, stealing the taste of herself back from Nesta’s tongue. The moment their kiss broke, she placed her hand around Nesta’s throat.

"You don’t get to breathe, until I say you can." she growled, her fingers tightening around throat in a deliberate squeeze.

Nesta’s chest heaved, her body writhing beneath Liandrin’s weight, not in struggle, but in surrender. Her hips rolling shamelessly against the brutal pressure of Liandrin’s knee. The lack of air made her vision blur at the edges a bit, her cunt clenching around nothing, aching for more.

Liandrin’s free hand slid between them, fingers digging into the soft flesh of Nesta’s inner thigh before wrenching her legs apar. "You’re dripping again." She watched her with satisfaction. "Getting off on being choked." she sneered, grinding her knee harder against the soaked cunt.

Nesta’s body burned for air, for friction, for more. A thin, desperate whine escaped her, her hips jerking up, begging silently.

Liandrin dragged two fingers through slick folds, coating them in her juices before shoving them into Nesta’s open mouth. "Taste how ruined you are for me, love."

She moaned, her tongue lapping at her own arousal, her throat working as she swallowed around Liandrin’s fingers. Her lungs screamed, her face flushed deep red, but she didn’t fight. Not when every second of suffocation sent another vicious throb of pleasure between her legs.

Liandrin leaned down once more, her lips brushing the shell of Nesta’s ear as she finally loosened her grip just enough to let a ragged gasp tear from her lover’s throat. "Breathe, Lioness." she commanded, and Nesta obeyed, her body shuddering with relief and need.

But she wasn’t done. Her fingers tightened again, cutting off the next inhale, "And stop again."

Nesta’s eyes rolled back, her back arching as pleasure and pain twisted together, her cunt pulsing around nothing. She was so fucking close and Liandrin knew it.

"Come like this." Liandrin ordered, her knee pressing harder, her fingers squeezing tighter.

Her knee ground harder between Nesta’s thighs. "I should make you crawl to the mirror and watch how ruined you are, watch your face while I fuck my fingers into your greedy cunt."

Nesta moaned, her hips rolling against Liandrin’s thigh. "Please, Lia." She was shaking, her thighs slick with her own arousal, her breath coming in ragged sobs. Liandrin finally relented, leaning down to kiss her mouth. "Mine." she growled against lips.

In one brutal motion, she shoved two fingers inside her, curling them in away to make Nesta scream. The girl’s body clenched around her, wet and desperate, but Liandrin didn’t give her a second to adjust, she set a punishing pace, fingers moving in and out, her palm slapping against Nesta’s cunt with every thrust.

"Fuck!" Blue eyes, glassy with pleasure, locked onto Liandrin's and with a wicked grin, Nesta slid her free hand between Liandrin’s thighs.

"Pet." Liandrin snarled, but her hips stuttered when Nesta’s fingers found her, just as soaked, just as needy. The girl didn’t tease, she pushed two fingers inside Liandrin in one smooth stroke, matching her rhythm.

Liandrin’s breath hitched, her thrusts faltering for a breath before she snarled and fucked into Nesta harder.

"You think you can play with me?" she panted, but the threat was ruined by the way her cunt pulsed around Nesta’s fingers.

"Yes, love." Nesta snarled back.

Liandrin’s answering growl was pure pleasure, she twisted her fingers deep, and watched the girl’s mouth fall open in a scream. Nesta’s climax hit her and her body convulsed. She gave herself fully to her lover, to the safety of her arms and body.

And Liandrin followed right after, biting down on Nesta’s shoulder to muffle her own groan as she came, her release slicking Nesta’s fingers in a surrender just as complete.

The silence that followed was thick with heavy breath and trembling limbs. Liandrin’s head rested against Nesta’s shoulder, her hand still caught between the girl’s thighs.

For a moment neither moved. Then, slowly, she pulled back to look down at Nesta’s exhausted face. Her fingers slipped free and she braced herself on shaking arms, gently brushing damp hair from Nesta’s brow.

“Nesta, are you alright?” she murmured. A flicker of worry passed over her features, “Was I too rough?”

Nesta blinked slowly, still catching her breath. Her body ached, pulsing from the intensity, but there wasn’t a trace of regret in her. Only fulfillment and love. But when she saw the uncertainty in Liandrin’s eyes, tenderness surged through her. She reached up and cupped Liandrin’s cheek, thumb brushing softly along her jaw.

“No, Lia.” she whispered, her voice hoarse but steady. “You were perfect.” She leaned up and kissed her.

Liandrin melted into the kiss, her weight lowering as if the relief undid her strength. “I’ll get a cloth.” she murmured, brushing a kiss against Nesta’s forehead before slipping out of bed.

Nesta watched her move slower than usual. Liandrin returned a moment later with two warm cloths. She sat down on the edge of the bed and tended to Nesta first, using the soft cloth with reverent care, gently cleaning away the remnants of their passion.

Tears pricked Nesta’s eyes, but she blinked them back, overwhelmed by the contrast of this woman who had been all command and fire minutes ago now treating her like something breakable and beloved.

When she was done, Nesta caught her hand and squeezed. “Lie down.” she said, reaching for the second cloth. Liandrin looked surprised, but she laid down, reclining against the pillows.

Nesta rose on trembling limbs and settled beside her. She gently cleaned her with the same care, moving tenderly, worshipfully over her body. Her fingers traced the edges of old scars with reverence, pressing soft kisses to Liandrin’s hip and belly as she worked. And all the while, her heart whispered, I will never stop choosing you. I will love you every single day.

Liandrin’s eyes fluttered closed, breath hitching at the intimacy of it. She said nothing at first, only exhaled softly, letting herself be taken care of. And when Nesta finished, she kissed her deeply.

They curled into each other, legs tangled, skin still warm and damp with the lingering traces of their passion. The air between them was quiet now, softened by the hush of shared breath. Liandrin drew Nesta against her chest, one of her arms wrapped firmly around the girl’s waist, while the other threaded gently through her hair.

Nesta let herself be pulled in, nestling her cheek against the swell of Liandrin’s breast, where she could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. Her eyes fluttered closed, every pass of Liandrin’s fingers through her hair drew her deeper into safety.

“I feel like like I could stay here forever.” she whispered, voice muffled against her skin.

Liandrin didn’t speak. She just hummed low in her throat and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s hair, her fingers never ceasing their motion.

Nesta let her weight go fully limp, as she melted into the woman who had undone her and now remade her with simple care.

“You need to know, that I don't ever want to go too far.” Liandrin whispered. “I know what it’s like to not be given a choice. I never want to be that for you.”

Nesta pressed her face into Liandrin’s neck, breathing her in. “You weren’t, Lia. You gave me everything I wanted.” Her voice was steady and firm. “And you held me through it.”

The woman's arms tightened around her, a tear slipping down her cheek unnoticed. She kissed Nesta’s hair again, her heart aching with how much she loved this girl. But still, there was a moment of hesitation before Liandrin spoke. “Are you sure?” she murmured. “That I didn’t hurt you.”

“I meant every word.” Nesta replied quickly. She lifted her hand to brush Liandrin’s cheek. “You didn’t cross a line. You took care of me, even when it was rough.”

Liandrin exhaled and her voice came out barely above a whisper. “You’re the first person who’s ever looked at me and didn’t just see a body or a tool to use. Everytime you look at me like you see my soul. Like you know the parts I still hide.” Her eyes stung with the threat of tears. “It scares me so much.” she admitted. “I keep thinking that once you see all the shadows, all the things I’ve done, you’ll turn away.”

Nesta’s heart clenched, and she pressed closer, as if her body alone could soothe that fear. “I already see you. I know you, all the fire, the scars, the softness you hide sometimes. And I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked up, eyes full of devotion. “You’re everything to me, Lia.”

Liandrin pressed her lips to Nesta’s temple again, lingering for a moment as she closed her eyes and let herself believe it. Truly believe that she could be loved like this. And that Nesta had chosen her not in spite of her darkness but somehow because of it.

The fear didn’t vanish fully, but it quieted. They lay in silence after that, and in the safety of each other’s arms, they finally slipped into sleep.

#kate fleetwood #liandrin sedai #wheel of time #lanfear x reader #liandrin guirale x reader #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin guirale #lanfear #wlw

10 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 27 days ago

Text

Chapter 23 | Sworn in Crimson, Bound in Shadow

“Light help the Tower now.” - around 5k words

The afternoon sun streamed through the tall arched windows, casting lines across the stone floor. Nesta sat on the edge of the bed, still in her white Accepted dress, her fingers twisting the fabric at her knee until it was wrinkled. Her braid hung over one shoulder, half-loosened, strands of blonde hair curling against her neck in defiance of the control she had tried to impose on herself.

“I thought I’d have more time.” she said softly, eyes fixed on the floor.

Across the room, Liandrin stood near the window, arms crossed. She didn’t answer at first. Her gaze was fixed outside, where the light caught on the Tower’s stones. But her jaw was tight, the way it always was when she was thinking too much and saying too little.

“No one ever does.” she said finally. Her voice was flat, but not cold.

When she turned, her eyes found Nesta instantly. There were shadows of tiredness beneath them. “You should eat something. It might help.”

Nesta shook her head. “My stomach isn’t interested.”

Liandrin walked toward her, footsteps slow and precise. She knelt in front of her without a word, placing her hands gently on the girl’s knees. “You’re trying to look brave.”

Nesta smirked. “Is it working?”

“No, but I love you for trying.”

“Good, because I love you too, Lia.” Nesta murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Even when you look at me like you’re trying to remember every detail, just in case.”

Liandrin’s lips twitched like she might smile, but it never reached her eyes. She moved up, placing her hands gently on Nesta’s shoulders. “Sit back, just a little.” she murmured.

Nesta obeyed without protest. She shifted her body and let herself lean back between Liandrin’s legs. Her spine brushed the front of the woman’s dress. The sensation was oddly comforting and soothing.

She wanted to freeze this moment, the press of Liandrin’s presence behind her, the feeling of her breath near her skin. Even now, with fear curled deep in her chest, Nesta felt a powerful wave of gratitude that Liandrin was here.

The older woman gathered the loose braid with careful hands. Her fingers trembled slightly as they touched Nesta’s hair, smoothing it back, unwinding it. The strands slipped through her hands, and for a moment, she simply held them.

Nesta sat perfectly still, feeling each motion like a quiet vow. Liandrin’s fingers worked in silence, combing through the tangle. She rebraided it slowly, tighter than before, each pass of her hand a ritual of love and control. "You remember the rules?" she asked. Her voice was calm, as if it had been polished thin by effort. But underneath, the tension crackled like fire.

Nesta took a breath. "One hundred weaves." she said. "Perfectly in order. No speaking, no mistakes, and no hesitation."

“They’ll try to twist the Power itself in your hands so you falter. But you won’t.” Liandrin’s voice was quiet, but it rang with absolute certainty.

Nesta slowly pushed to her feet. Her knees wavered, but she steadied herself, turning to face her lover directly. “How can you be sure?”

Liandrin stepped forward. Her hand found Nesta’s shoulder, gripping it with desperation. “Because I know what you are, Lioness.” she said. “You’ve already survived more than most Accepted. You’re stronger than they think. Stronger than even you think too.”

A tremor ran through Nesta’s fingers. Her eyes closed for a heartbeat, and she let those words sink into her skin. She breathed in slowly, letting them fill the hollow spaces inside her chest. Then, softly, “Lia...”

But Liandrin shook her head almost instantly, her thumb brushed across Nesta’s collarbone. “No goodbyes.” she said, and the crack in her voice betrayed her own fear. “You’ll come back. That’s all there is.”

She paused then, her hand drifting down to clasp Nesta’s. Her grip was fierce, fingers curling as if afraid to let go. “I asked to be in the chamber, but Siuan denied it. She said that I’d compromise the sanctity of the test.” Her lips twitched, but not with amusement.

“I’m not allowed to stand at your side when you face this.” Her blue eyes shimmered with fury barely contained. “But in my thoughts, in every breath, I’ll be with you. You understand me?”

Nesta could only nod. She couldn’t find the words, couldn’t find the strength to speak because her heart was breaking and soaring all at once.

Liandrin leaned closer, her forehead nearly touching Nesta’s, their breaths mingling. “I’ll be right here.” she whispered. “Waiting in this room. I won’t leave it until you walk through that door again.”

“I’ll come back to you.” Nesta said back, and though the words came soft, they landed like an oath. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of Liandrin’s presence, feeling the steady, comforting rhythm of her heartbeat.

She realized once again how important this woman was for her life. Not just by some bond, but by the love that ran deeper than any oath she could take. It was the kind of love that made her feel like she could endure anything, like she could face a hundred trials and still return to the arms of the one person who had claimed her heart completely. And no matter what happened in the coming hours, she knew that she would return to Liandrin.

The older woman cupped Nesta’s cheek. Her palm was warm, trembling slightly as it rested against skin that had always felt like home to her. Nesta leaned into the touch without thinking, craving it like air.

Her other hand came up just as carefully and found the red choker that sat around the girl’s neck. Her thumb brushed over the stones. “You’re mine.” Liandrin murmured.

Nesta swallowed hard, her lips parting, but no sound came.

Then Liandrin leaned in and kissed her. Her fingers threaded into the base of Nesta’s braid, her other hand never leaving her cheek. She held her as if she could pour every ounce of love into this one brief touch of lips.

Nesta gasped softly against her mouth, her fingers curling into the fabric of Liandrin’s sleeves. She kissed her back just as fiercely, pouring all the fire, she had kept guarded deep inside.

When their lips finally parted, they both were breathless. Liandrin didn’t step back, she leaned in again until their foreheads touched, her hand still cradling Nesta’s cheek. “Come back to me, my Lioness.”

Nesta could barely breathe, her heart so full it ached. “I will, I promise.”

The bells of the Tower struck, the sound echoed like a heartbeat through the white halls of Tar Valon, each chime drawing closer the moment Nesta had both feared and longed for. The air was cool inside the lower levels of the Tower, but she felt flushed beneath her white Accepted dress, as if the stone itself knew what was to come and had started to tighten around her like a vice.

The corridor ended at two tall, carved doors, the entrance to the Chamber of the Flame. Nesta inhaled, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward. Waiting for her was Sheriam Sedai, Mistress of Novices. A woman who had seen countless novices rise and fall.

Sheriam inclined her head. “Nesta al’Caemlyn. You have come in the Light to be tested. Are you ready?”

Nesta’s throat tightened, but her voice came steady. “I am, Sheriam Sedai.”

“Then enter and face what you must.”

The doors opened soundlessly. Inside, the Chamber of the Flame was vast and circular, domed high above with pale stone. At the center of the room was a raised ring-shaped platform where the test would take place. No protection, no shelter. Only the weave and the woman who must survive it.

Seven women stood spaced evenly around the circle. Each wore their Ajah's colors, their expressions unreadable masks of solemnity and power. They had gathered not as individuals, but as a single body, the Tower itself.

From the Red Ajah stood Tsutama Sedai, her face calm but her eyes sharp, dressed in crimson with silver thread at her cuffs. She nodded faintly at Nesta as she entered. The Green was Alanna Sedai, her dark hair loose around her shoulders. And the green dress embroidered with vines. Her warm gaze lingered on Nesta a moment too long.

Verin Sedai represented the Brown. Her eyes flickered with curiosity, almost like she saw pieces of the girl she hadn’t yet acknowledged in herself. The other Sitters, Blue, Yellow, Gray, White stood like statues, each with their own flavor of judgment, though Moiraine was notably absent.

And above it all, elevated upon a platform of white stone, the Amyrlin Seat watched with steady, ageless eyes, her stole vivid in every Ajah’s color.

But through it all, through the eyes of the Sitters and the pressure of the chamber, Nesta found herself thinking of Liandrin. She could still feel the faint warmth of her touch on her cheek, the soft, whispered words of love that had echoed in her mind

“Step into the ring, Nesta al’Caemlyn.” Sheriam’s voice broke through her thoughts, firm and commanding.

Nesta took one last breath, her chest tightening. With resolve she barely felt, she moved toward the center of the room, to the raised platform that awaited her.

But she wasn’t truly alone. Far from the chamber, beyond walls and wards, another presence had turned her attention toward the trial. Lanfear watched the scene unfold through the thin skein of Tel’aran’rhiod, not by sight but by the resonance of power. She could feel the tension in Nesta's spine, the silent tremor of fear, and the stubborn thread of love wrapped around her like a flame refusing to die.

She closed her eyes in the dream. “So it begins.” she murmured to herself.

And in the waking world, the test began. The moment Nesta stepped onto the raised platform, a strange stillness seemed to envelop her. The air thickened, the space growing smaller. She could no longer feel the eyes of the Sitters on her, only the pressure of the trial itself.

Suddenly the room around her blurred. The faces of the Sitters faded away, replaced by a scene that made her heart drop into her stomach. She was standing on the edge of a cliff, wind howling around her, a storm on the horizon. The churning sea below threatened to pull her into its depths.

This isn’t real, Nesta reminded herself. Focus, control it.

The first weave, a flicker of heat ignited in her hands. She could feel the Power rushing through her veins. She needed to weave. She needed to act. Her fingers moved without hesitation, the flow of the Power wrapping around her, pulling into the precise pattern she needed.

And then, a shadow lunged from the storm, its form barely visible, an almost human shape but dripping with dark energy. A dark figure, too quick to follow, raised its hands, and the wind itself seemed to turn against her.

The first test, to protect herself, to defend against the invisible, to maintain the weaves even as the world around her tried to tear them apart. Her heart pounded. The flame in her hand flickered, sputtering as the wind howled and threatened to snuff it out.

But, she gritted her teeth and strengthened the weave. The fire surged higher, brighter, with a controlled power that sliced through the wind, igniting the shadow into flame before it even had a chance to strike. Her breath came in shallow bursts as the image of the storm, the cliff, and the shadow melted away. The world around her shifted again.

Her heart thundered in her chest, but she kept moving. One weave after another, the weaves demanded precision, focus, control. But the emotions as fear, doubt, and the memories tested her at every turn. And the further she went, the more she realized just how much of this trial was not about the weaves at all. It was all about conquering herself.

In the back of her mind, there was a flicker of awareness, a sense that something was watching her. But it wasn’t just the sitters, the Aes Sedai who watched with cold eyes. There was someone else, lingering just outside the edge of her focus. Her Nightmare. Lanfear.

Even in the depths of the trial, she could feel her presence, that sent an electric shiver through her body, a flicker of warmth amidst the cold uncertainty of the trial.

Lanfear stood in the shadows of Tel’aran’rhiod, her form barely visible as she watched the trial unfold. The world around her shimmered with the echoes of the test. Her bright eyes followed every movement Nesta made. There was awe in the Forsaken’s gaze. She had seen many trials, but none had ever affected her quite like this one.

Nesta was a powerful, relentless force, but also just a human. Her strength came from more than just the Power she wielded. It came from a well of emotion, love, fear, and of a stubborn will that refused to break. But Lanfear couldn’t deny the worry that curled deep in her chest. She had watched her overcome so much, fight so hard, but this was different. The stakes were higher.

Stay strong, Lanfear thought desperately, her fingers twitching as if she could reach out, take Nesta’s hand, and guide her through it.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages turning. Liandrin sat in the corner, the flickering light of the afternoon sun casting long shadows across her face. A book rested in her hands, the words blurring together as her eyes traced each line without truly reading.

She had picked it up to distract herself. Something to occupy her mind as she waited for Nesta to return. But the weight of her thoughts pressed down on her like a physical force.

She’s facing it now. Liandrin thought, the words repeating in her mind like a chant.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned the page, her thoughts slipping back to the moment she had promised Nesta she would be there when it was over, but the distance between them now felt immense. She exhaled sharply, setting the book down beside her with a soft thud. Her gaze drifted to the window, to the sunlight that poured in through the curtains. She wanted to lose herself in the beauty of the moment, to let the world outside soothe her, but all she could feel was the gnawing worry in her chest.

Liandrin stood up, pacing the small room. The book was no comfort and the silence between the walls was too thick. She tried to concentrate on anything, but Nesta. But no matter how hard she tried, her thoughts kept returning to her.

Nesta was stronger than anyone Liandrin had ever met. She had seen it in the way she fought, the way she carried herself. But this trial was different. The Tower had a way of twisting even the strongest.

She ran a hand over her face, trying to shake off the cold sense of dread that had settled in inside her. The thought of losing Nesta, of never hearing that defiant voice again was unbearable. The fear of not having her there to fill the silence, to see her in the quiet moments when nothing else mattered made her chest tighten with an ache that she couldn’t put into words.

"Please come back to me." Liandrin whispered to herself, the words slipping from her lips without thought.

She closed her eyes for a moment, the feeling of her emotions was nearly overwhelming. She wanted to be there with Nesta. But she couldn’t, the Tower had dictated the rules. She had to stay out of sight.

But in my thoughts, I’m always with you. Liandrin let the thought echo in her mind, the one small comfort she could hold onto.

Back in the Chamber of the Flame, Nesta’s breath came in shallow gasps, the final weave of air dissipating into the air around her. The trial was over, and the weight that had pressed against her chest began to lift. Her body trembled with exhaustion, but the fire inside her burned bright. She had passed.

The silence that followed was profound, broken only by the steady footsteps of the Mistress of Novices. “Congratulations, Nesta.” Sheriam said, her voice as sharp. “You are now an Aes Sedai.”

For a moment, Nesta simply stood there, her breath catching. The title settled over her shoulders with a strange mixture of weight and lightness. Her legs nearly buckled beneath her, and it took all her strength to stay standing as Sheriam gestured for her to step forward.

The assembled Sisters watched her with calm expressions, though Alanna offered the nod of approval. Each had overseen different portions of the test, silently judging every weave.

Nesta bowed her head to them, a respectful motion despite her spinning thoughts and aching limbs. But her mind didn't linger on the Sisters, or even on the honor she had just been granted. It flew back to one place. Liandrin.

Somewhere above, Nesta could feel her waiting. Maybe not physically, but in spirit. In the heat still lingering at her throat where Liandrin had brushed her choker that morning. In the echo of her voice, Come back to me, my Lioness.

Sheriam Sedai, stepped closer and in her hands rested a slender white rod, the Oath Rod. Her voice rang through the chamber, clear and formal. “The time has come.” she said, voice solemn. “Do you understand what you will become?”

“I do.” Nesta answered.

“Do you know the cost of these words?”

“I do.”

Sheriam held out the rod. “Then speak the Three Oaths, and let them bind you.”

Nesta extended her hands, her fingers brushing the smooth, ancient surface of the Oath Rod. The room dimmed in her awareness. She channeled into the rod and spoke, “I vow to speak no word that is not true. I vow to make no weapon with which one man may kill another. I vow never to use the One Power as a weapon, except against Shadowspawn, or in the last extreme defense of my life, or that of another sister.” As she finished the last words, the Power pulled through the rod and the Oaths took hold.

It was like being bound by air itself, tight but invisible, a sense of something folding around her, locking into her bones. For one heart-stopping moment, she couldn’t breathe. But then it passed.

She straightened her spine. “I am ready.” she said clearly, meeting Sheriam’s eyes.

The Mistress of Novices tilted her head, perhaps surprised by the steadiness in her voice. But she nodded. “Then follow me. You will be robed and welcomed properly.”

As she turned and began leading the way out of the Chamber, Nesta took one last glance over her shoulder. A sacred space, a battlefield, that she had survived.

After leaving the Chamber of the Flame, Nesta was taken to a small, circular hall high in the Tower. The Hall of Selection, where windows shaped like seven petaled flames, each pane stained a different Ajah color. It bathed the white stone in streaks of red, green, blue, yellow, brown, white, and gray.

Sheriam stood behind her, a guiding presence, but it was Nesta who had to take each step forward now. In the center of the chamber stood a pedestal draped in ivory silk, bare, save for a small cloth bundle. The formal robes of the Ajah she had yet to choose. Her Great Serpent ring remained on her finger, the same as it had been when she wore it as an Accepted. But now, it would be seen differently. She would wear it openly, with pride and purpose.

One by one, Aes Sedai began to enter from seven doors, each aligned with their Ajah. Women whose gazes were deep with centuries of knowledge. Women who had once stood where she now stood. But none of them spoke.

“You stand before the Tower as a full Sister. A woman who has passed the trial and proven her strength, wisdom, and will. You wear the ring, and now you must choose your path.”

Nesta stepped forward slowly, her heart beat like a drum inside her ribs, but her chin was high. Each Ajah watched in silence. The White, all ice and stillness. The Yellow with a quiet and curious. The Gray with solemn calm. Only Tsutama met her eyes directly.

Her blue eyes swept across the Ajahs, across the women who will call her sister. Then she spoke, her voice low but unwavering, “I choose the Red Ajah.”

On her hand, the Great Serpent ring shimmered. It was subtle at first, but then it began to change, slowly deepening as though catching fire from within. The color bled across the surface, until the band bore an unmistakable crimson sheen. The mark of her Ajah.

The Tower itself seemed to accept her will, her identity, and let the ring become what it must. She stared at it for a moment, the crimson catching the light like blood and flame. Her decision made, her path chosen.

Tsutama stepped forward, her crimson dress catching the light. With silent grace, she held out a folded bundle of cloth. “These are yours now.” she said softly.

Crimson wool robes, edged in silver thread. A formal cut, simple but proud. The robes of a Red Sister. Joy unfurled in Nesta’s chest, as she clutched the robes to her chest, warmth blooming behind her ribs. She had done it. She had become the woman she was meant to be.

When she turned and began to walk toward the arched doors of the chamber, her heart felt lighter with each step, the weight of her choice grounding her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. The red gleam of her ring caught the light again, and for the first time, she truly felt its signature. No longer a symbol of a journey incomplete, but one of undeniable purpose.

As she neared the door, Tsutama stepped forward once more, her voice soft but firm. “Rest now, Sister.” she said, her words laced with the authority that came with years of leadership, but there was warmth too. “But tomorrow, I expect to see you in the Red quarters. You will meet your new Sisters. I’m sure they’ll be eager to welcome you.”

Nesta met her eyes, nodding deeply. The offer of belonging, of being seen as one of them, made her pulse quicken, but there was no fear now. Just anticipation. “I’ll be there.” she said, her voice steady with resolve.

As she stepped into the corridor, the stone halls were quiet, but not empty. Alanna stood waiting in the corridor, her expression bright with emotion. As Nesta stepped out, the Green Sister approached her with an open smile.

“Well, you broke a few hearts in the Green today.” Alanna said warmly, looking her over with a twinkle in her eye.

Nesta flushed, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. She was still clutching the robes tightly to her chest.

Alanna’s gaze dropped to the red gleam on Nesta’s ring, then rose again with understanding and a bit of regret. “I had hoped, but honestly I knew.” she said, more gently now. “You were always burning too brightly for anyone else to claim but the Red.”

There was no bitterness in her voice, only genuine warmth. With a step closer, Alanna touched Nesta lightly on the arm. “You’re my equal now. And I hope we can be friends.”

Nesta blinked. The words struck something deep inside her, not just the offer of friendship, but the acknowledgment. Equal. The girl who had once feared she would never belong was now being welcomed not just by her own Ajah, but by others who had shaped the Tower.

“Thank you, I’d like that.” she murmured, her voice hushed, thick with emotion.

Alanna’s smile widened, the corners of her eyes crinkling with affection. “I meant what I said before.” she added. “I would’ve been proud to call you Green. But the Red Ajah, they gained someone fierce today.”

Nesta gave a small, grateful laugh. “You’re not the first to call me fierce.”

“I doubt I’ll be the last.” Alanna winked, then inclined her head, her curls bouncing slightly. “Well, Sister, may your path ahead be strong and clear.”

She turned to go, but not before Nesta reached out, catching her briefly by the hand. “Thank you, Alanna.” she said softly.

“Always.” The Green Sister gave her arm a squeeze and stepped back with a grin. “Go on then, Red Sister. Go make them all remember your name.”

Nesta smiled and turned toward the halls that would now be hers to walk. Not as a novice, not as Accepted, but as Aes Sedai.

The hallways of the Tower felt different now beneath Nesta’s feet. Not warmer, not softer, but more silent and watchful. She walked them with the weight of a crimson robe over her arm and the faint pressure of the ring against her finger. When she reached their shared chambers, the door creaked softly as she pushed it open.

The light inside was low, dimmed by the heavy curtains drawn across the tall windows. She crossed the room in silence, her gaze drawn to the open balcony doors. There, framed by twilight stood Liandrin.

She hadn’t heard Nesta enter. Her arms were braced on the railing, her body still beneath the fading sky. Her hair loosened completely fell in soft waves down her back. She didn’t move as the girl approached.

Nesta placed her robes on the edge of the table before she turned away from it. Her footsteps were soft across the floor as she made her way toward the balcony, each step measured, like crossing a threshold she’d yearned for all day.

She stepped behind Liandrin and wrapped her arms around her waist, pressing her face gently against the curve of her shoulder. The fabric of Liandrin’s dress was cool from the evening air, her body tense beneath until she felt Nesta’s touch.

“I heard the bells. I knew the test was done.” Liandrin said. “Honestly, I didn’t trust myself to go down. I didn’t know if I’d be able to wait outside that chamber without tearing the doors off their hinges.”

Nesta smiled into her shoulder. “It’s over.”

Liandrin turned slightly in her arms, enough to meet her gaze. Her blue eyes shone relief. At the sight of Nesta, in her arms and whole, something in her fractured and reformed all at once. She surged forward, her hands flew to Nesta’s face, fingers pressing into her jaw with near-bruising force, tilting her head back in a silent command. There was no gentleness, only devouring need. Her lips crashed against the girl's in a possessive kiss.

Nesta gasped, but Liandrin didn't relent. She swallowed the sound, her tongue sweeping past the her lips with ruthless precision, dominating her mouth with passionate strokes. One hand fisted in blonde hair, tugging just enough to sting, while the other arm locked around her waist, hauling her flush against Liandrin's body.

There was no space between them, no room to breathe, only the relentless press of lips and tongues. The taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her robes bunched between them, everything ignited at once. And Nesta gripped her back, clung to her with matching heat, letting herself be kissed, claimed, devoured. Letting herself burn.

When Liandrin finally pulled back to let them both breathe, her lips hovered over Nesta's, her breath hot and uneven. "Mine." she whispered.

Her gaze dipped dropped down to the hand resting against her waist. The faint crimson gleam of the ring caught the dying light, and something in Liandrin’s face changed. Her lips parted, her breath caught.

“Red.” The word slipped out of her with astonishment.

Nesta nodded, and her fingers tightened at Liandrin’s waist in silent affirmation. The gesture was small, but her chest swelled with pride. She was Red. She had said the words aloud and meant them. She had faced the cold stone of the chamber, the silent judgment of the Sitters, and chosen. Not from fear and not to prove herself, but because she had finally found where she belonged. To be wrapped in Liandrin’s arms, claimed with that whispered word mine, and seen not as a girl with something to prove but as an equal. It had soothed all the lonely places the Tower had carved in her.

“I did it for us. So I could stand beside you.” she whispered against Liandrin’s skin.

Liandrin’s breath stuttered, and her shoulders finally dropped, the tension of the entire day cracking like a dam that had just begun to leak. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding herself together until this very moment. The fear that Nesta wouldn’t make it. That the Tower would take her. That she might walk out of the chamber and choose another Ajah. That this bond between them might break under the weight of tradition.

She let out a shaky breath, something between a laugh and disbelief. “Light help the Tower now.” she muttered, her voice rough with emotion.

Nesta laughed bright and whole, the sound of it warming every bruised place in Liandrin’s heart.

“You will always belong to me.”

“I know, Lia.” Nesta murmured, voice tender. Her hands slid up along Liandrin’s back, fingertips pressing lightly between her shoulder blades. “No matter the color, I will always be with you. Remember it.”

There was something in the way she said the color, that made Liandrin still. A brief flicker of tension across her features. It passed as quickly as it came, but Nesta noticed it.

She had begun to wonder. The letters, the bruised knuckles, the silences and yet she didn’t flinch. Didn’t demand answers. Because whatever shade of darkness Liandrin carried, she would face it too. For her. With her. If she had to fight the Tower itself, she would.

The Tower, for all its rituals and rules, had never loved her the way Liandrin did. Had never touched her soul with care and fury all at once. And no Ajah, not even the Red could own her the way Liandrin had from the start.

Liandrin’s hand cupped her cheek again, rough and gentle all at once. Her eyes burned with wildfire rage of love.

“Whatever you’ve done, wherever your path leads, mine follows.” Nesta whispered, “Not the Tower’s. Not even the Ajah’s. Just yours.”

Liandrin’s breath hitched, sharp and nearly inaudible. Her thumb swept beneath Nesta’s eye, as if brushing away something that wasn’t quite a tear. "You don’t know what that promise means."

“I chose Red, but you’re what I fight for.” Nesta whispered.

The woman's lips parted, but no sound came. And then she claimed Nesta again, lips crashing into hers with unrelenting heat, as if she needed to erase the time apart. She opened to her without hesitation, breath catching as Liandrin’s tongue swept in. It was possession made flesh.

Liandrin pressed the her lover back against the balcony doorframe, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her waist possessively. She devoured her with that kiss, until Nesta was clinging to her, knees weak, her head spinning.

This was where she belonged, only to Liandrin, and that would always be enough.

#liandrin guirale x reader #wheel of time #lanfear x reader #liandrin sedai #kate fleetwood #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin guirale #lanfear

13 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 30 days ago

Text

Wanted to draw them so bad, i wonder because of who 👀 ✨🖤

Have my first try on Liandrin and Lanfear i love their face shape so much!

60 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 30 days ago

Text

Chapter 22 | A Day Meant For Peace

The series might be cancelled, but I’m still holding on to hope that another platform could pick it up! And even if that doesn’t happen, our girls will still get the happy ending they deserve here. I promise. Right now, I’m planning for around 50 chapters in total, but who knows… that number might grow along the way - around 6k words.

Nesta woke up first. She felt Liandrin, curled behind her, one arm slung low over her waist. Her own hand moved without thinking, until her fingers rested on the skin of Liandrin’s wrist, tracing the delicate veins.

The older woman was still asleep, her breathing steady. Nesta could feel every rise and fall of her chest against her back. Her golden hair tickled the nape of Nesta’s neck.

Liandrin’s fingers tightened around the girl's waist, drawing her even closer, and she felt the pulse of her love, not as a heavy force, but as something constant. For all of the woman’s hardness, the sharpness in her eyes, the pride in her heart, Nesta knew this warmth was just as real. Even though, sometimes, it was hidden beneath the surface, but it was always there.

The faintest light filtered through the curtains, casting bright shadows across the room and Liandrin finally stirred. She had always been so aware of her surroundings, ever-vigilant, constantly prepared for danger. But in this quiet moment, with Nesta tangled in her arms, she found herself at peace.

Eventually, Nesta whispered, “Are you awake?”

Liandrin hummed softly, a small grunt escaping her lips as she felt the warmth of a breath against her skin. She pulled the her closer, hand pressing against the curve of her lover's waist as if to keep her there, to keep this moment from slipping away.

"I’m going to take that as a yes." Nesta murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

Liandrin’s lips curled slightly into a half-smile, though Nesta couldn’t see it. “It’s still early, pet.” she murmured, her voice low. “If you speak again, I might kill you.”

Nesta chuckled softly, as she shifted in her arms. “How charming, Lia.” she said with a smirk, her eyes twinkling with a mix of affection and amusement. “I was going to invite you on a picnic.”

Liandrin’s response was immediate, her brows knitting as she cracked open one eye. “A what?”

“A picnic.” Nesta repeated, brushing a stray lock of Liandrin’s hair behind her ear. She let her fingers linger there for a moment, tracing the curve of her ear in a soft gesture. “With horses, sunlight and fruits. I figured after last night...” She hesitated, the memories of the previous evening settling over her briefly. “We could do something normal.”

Liandrin grunted again, but didn’t let go of her. “You don’t do normal.”

Nesta arched a brow, her smile widening at the challenge in Liandrin’s voice. “And yet here I am, cuddling with the most terrifying woman in the Tower.” She leaned in closer, her lips brushing lightly against the collarbone, as she spoke the next words with a teasing lilt. “Maybe today’s a day for exceptions.”

The Aes Sedai cleared her throat softly, not quite meeting the blue eyes at first, then finally grumbled, “Fine. But I get to pick the fruits.”

Nesta grinned, her heart light with amusement. She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Liandrin’s cheek, a quick, tender gesture that had become a familiar form of affection between them. “Deal.” she said brightly, then let the silence stretch comfortably between them.

Liandrin’s fingers tightened around her waist, drawing her closer as if holding onto this moment, not ready for the world to intrude yet. As she lay there, gazing down at Nesta, her thoughts drifted. Normal, she had said. How absurd it was to think of it that way, but it wasn’t impossible. In the quiet of their room, in the softness of this morning, it felt like it might be.

Her heart, which had always beat in time with the unyielding rhythm of duty, seemed to skip a beat as she rested her forehead against Nesta’s.

"I’m choosing where we go.” she added with a half-smirk.

“And where might that be?”

Liandrin’s gaze flickered to the window, where the early morning light streamed softly through the curtains, bathing the room in a golden color. There was something different about the way the light felt this morning. It felt calmer. “There’s a peaceful clearing just outside Tar Valon.”

“That sounds perfect.” Nesta whispered, her voice full of contentment.

They stayed like that for a breath, until Liandrin’s fingers drifted down the line of Nesta’s stomach, savoring every inch. There was no rush, only the delicious tension that came from knowing exactly how her lover would react. Her fingertips lingered just above Nesta’s underwear, teasing, until her hips rose.

A smirk touched Liandrin’s lips as her knuckles brushed the fabric. “Is this how you beg now?” she murmured, her voice rough with sleep. “Without a single word?”

Nesta’s breath caught, and her hand slid up Liandrin’s side, fingers digging gently into her ribs. “I thought you liked it when I didn’t talk back.”

Liandrin laughed at the girl’s reply, and her fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding her slick. Nesta’s hips jerked at the contact, but Liandrin held her down with her free hand, pinning her wrist to the mattress. “Let me take my time.”

Her touch was teasingly cruel, slow circles around her clit, just enough pressure to tease but not enough to satisfy. Nesta bit her lip, thighs trembling, but then her own hand shot out, sliding into Liandrin’s underwear with with a smirk and determination.

She gasped as Nesta’s fingers found her equally wet, her own rhythm faltering for a heartbeat. “Not fair.” she growled, but Nesta only tightened her grip, two fingers curling inside her.

“Then stop teasing and take what’s yours.”

Her back arched, as Liandrin's fingers twisted inside her with a brutal force. A gasp escaped her lips, as her own hand buried between Liandrin's thighs, two fingers moving in and out of the woman's slick cunt, her thumb grinding tight circles over her clit.

"My Lioness." Liandrin purred, as she leaned in, her teeth scraping over Nesta's collarbone.

She moaned at hearing the nickname, her hips bucking, her fingers driving harder into Liandrin. And Liandrin matched her, fingers thrusted faster, her palm slapping against soaked folds with every rough stroke.

"Fuck, Lia..." Nesta gasped. Her other fingers tangled in golden hair, pulling Liandrin for a kiss. Their lips clashed, tongues tangling as if they could devour each other whole.

The wet sounds of their fingers plunging in and out filled the room. Nesta’s fingers stretched Liandrin wide, and the moan escaped her lips, as her hips jerked forward, fucking herself on the girl's hand. Nesta's cunt clenched around the long fingers, her own movements growing erratic as pleasure coiled tight in her belly.

"Come with me." Liandrin demanded, her voice rough with need.

Nesta's breath came in ragged gasps, her body coiling tighter and tighter, pleasure burning through her, but still she matched Liandrin's pace, fucking her with the same relentless strokes. "I’m close..." she choked out.

"Me too, love." Liandrin admitted through gritted teeth.

Their movements grew frantic and Nesta's vision blurred a bit as pleasure crashed over her, her body seizing as orgasm ripped through her with a scream.

A second later, Liandrin threw her head back with a cry, her cunt clenching around Nesta's fingers as she came hard, her thighs shaking violently.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The room pulsed with the aftershocks of what they’d just shared. Their bodies tangled, limbs heavy with release, and the bed sheets clung to their sweat-slicked skin, but neither cared. Liandrin’s hand was still between her lover's thighs, her palm cradling the soft aftermath of Nesta’s pleasure.

Slowly, she pulled her fingers free, claiming every last drop of what Nesta had given her. With a smirk curling her lips, she brought her glistening fingers to her own mouth, but paused. Her eyes darkened with possession as she lowered her hand to Nesta’s lips instead.

“Taste yourself.” she demanded. “You earned it.”

Nesta didn’t hesitate. She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around Liandrin’s fingers, sucking slowly. Her tongue swirled, drawing the taste from them with a hum of satisfaction. She kept her eyes locked on Liandrin’s the entire time, half-lidded and heavy with the kind of pride born from letting herself be undone in her arms.

When she finally released her fingers with a soft pop, she smiled. “Delicious.”

Liandrin's eyes drank her in, stunned silent by the beauty of Nesta, as always defiantly proud even in submission. She let out a low chuckle, her other hand brushing the blonde hair back from her forehead. “It always does when you’re mine, Lioness.”

The clearing was just beyond Tar Valon’s cold embrace. A narrow stream curved through the grass, its gentle rush blending with the distant trill of birdsong. The city’s drama and secrets felt a world away here, as if the trees themselves had agreed to keep this one place untouched.

Nesta exhaled slowly and sank onto the blanket Liandrin had begrudgingly let her pack. She stretched her legs out with exaggerated laziness, arms propped behind her as she tilted her face toward the sun.

“We’re not being hunted, you can relax now.” she said with a smile, casting a sidelong glance at Liandrin, who was scanning the trees.

Liandrin’s eyes flicked toward her, sharp even in the warmth. “I breathe when I trust the silence.”

Stiffly, she lowered herself with regal grace, not out of caution, but as if her body had to be reminded how to bend without bracing for battle. She didn’t lean back, but she sat beside Nesta, knees drawn close, spine tall as if she still needed to prove she was in control.

Her hair was fully down today. It spilled over her shoulders in a golden fall, catching the morning light and softening the sharp lines of her face. Nesta watched a single strand flutter forward across Liandrin’s cheek, and something inside her ached at the sight. It made her look vulnerable, though the set of her mouth remained as uncompromising as ever.

For a breath, she imagined how Liandrin might look if she ever truly let go. Admiration bloomed quietly in her chest. Not for the power her lover wielded, or even the sharp mind she so often used to cut others down. It was for the way she endured. For the weight she carried without ever letting it show, except in moments when Nesta was close enough.

Without speaking, Liandrin reached toward the small spread Nesta had laid out, selecting a slice of pear. She turned it in her fingers, examining it from every angle before Nesta quickly plucked it from her fingers and brought it to her lips “Come on, it’s just fruit.” she coaxed.

Liandrin narrowed her eyes in mock warning, but the corners of her mouth twitched and she leaned forward and bit it, without breaking eye contact. The pearl crunched softly between her teeth, its juice glistening where it touched her bottom lip.

Nesta's breath caught. She watched a droplet trail from the corner of Liandrin’s mouth, her fingers aching to reach up and catch it. But instead, she leaned in and kissed her.

Liandrin’s tongue swept in, letting her taste the sweetness of pear. Nesta groaned, her body arching instinctively toward Liandrin’s, but she didn’t let her rush.

One hand fisted in the blonde hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp, while the other slid down the curve of her spine, pulling her flush against her. The contrast was maddening, the sharp dominance of her grip versus the softness of her mouth.

Liandrin bit down on the lower lip, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her whimper. “You wanted to taste me.” she murmured against her lips, breath hot.

And Nesta did, her hands gripping Liandrin’s shoulders, fingers digging into the soft flesh there as Liandrin deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against the girl's.

When the older woman finally pulled back, it was only far enough to whisper against Nesta’s swollen mouth, her voice a rough purr, “You’re too soft with me.”

“Only with you.” Nesta smiled and to her astonishment, Liandrin laughed.

It was soft at first, just a breath of sound, almost as if she hadn’t meant to let it out. But it grew, curling in her chest, spilling past her lips. A real laugh. She blinked, startled by the sound of it herself. Her hand hovered at her mouth for a second, as though unsure whether to hold the joy in or let it go. It had been so long since something simple, like a shared fruit and a teasing smile had stirred that forgotten reflex.

The ease of it shocked her. No one had ever fed her before. Not playfully, not with affection in their touch and love in their eyes. And certainly not without expecting her to flinch. The Tower had taught her how to endure, how to fight, how to be feared. But this moment under the sunlight, far from judging eyes, with Nesta looking at her like she was allowed to be more than what the world had carved her into was so unfamiliar.

Liandrin laughed again, a little louder this time, the sound colored with wonder. Her shoulders eased down and the corners of her eyes crinkled from joy.

“Light, what are you doing to me.” she murmured with a breathless smile, brushing her hair back where the wind had tossed it across her cheek.

Nesta smiled, her voice low, “Feeding you fruit, apparently. And maybe reminding you that you’re allowed to feel good things too.”

They ate in slow contentment, sunlight catching in their hair. The stream whispered its song and the leaves rustled overhead. And then, without ceremony, Liandrin began to unlace her boots.

“What are you doing?” Nesta asked.

But Liandrin didn’t answer. She just tugged them off one by one, then peeled away her socks, baring pale ankles and slender feet to the sun-dappled air. She sat forward for a moment, fingers splayed in the grass like she needed calm down. And, slowly, she slid her feet into the stream.

Nesta blinked, almost startled. “I didn’t know you could relax.”

Liandrin gave an amused exhale and eased herself back, bracing in the grass behind her. Her toes wiggled beneath the water’s glittering surface. Sunlight kissed the curves of her cheekbones. “I forget I can.” she murmured, eyes closing. “It’s dangerous to feel safe.”

Nesta’s fingers reached out, brushing lightly over the smooth skin of the woman's calf, just above the waterline. Her touch lingered, a simple gesture of care.

“You don’t always have to be the one protecting.” she said. The stream gurgled and sang around them, nearly swallowing the softness of her voice. But it reached Liandrin all the same.

“If I stop, who else will?” she kept her eyes closed.

“I will.” Nesta said without hesitation. “For you, every time.” She smoothed her hand a little higher, resting it reassuringly.

Liandrin’s mind always so quick to steel itself, stumbled over the fierceness in those words. In all her life through lessons, punishments, battles, and betrayals, no one had ever said such a thing to her with such certainty. With no demand, no condition. Just love. And every time Nesta offered it, it astonished her.

She turned her head, opening her eyes slowly, and looked at the younger woman beside her. Looked at her like she was the only real thing in the world. A small, helpless smile touched her lips.

“When I was a novice, I ran away once.” she said after a moment, “I followed a river out of the Tower’s shadow and sat beside it, thinking maybe someone would come looking. Maybe someone would care.”

“But no one came.” Liandrin continued, “When I got back, they punished me in front of the others. Told me the Tower comes before everything.”

Nesta’s heart twisted. She could picture Liandrin standing alone, her pride already forming the armor she would later wield like a blade. Her punishment, not just in bruises or shame, but in the indifference of those who should have cared. The kind of pain that taught a girl to never ask again.

She reached for her hand. Her fingers slid into Liandrin’s and stayed there, firm and sure, as if to say, I’m here now. I will always come looking for you.

“I was foolish to hope someone would follow.” Liandrin said, quieter now, almost to herself.

"You weren’t, they were foolish not to.”

Liandrin gripped Nesta’s hand tighter, like it tethered her to the present. The quiet held for a time, broken only by the stream murmuring over stone and the occasional rustle of wind. And Nesta, holding that grip, felt a promise carved, that she will never let Liandrin be alone again.

In time, Liandrin spoke again, steadier now. “Your test will be at the end of the week.”

Nesta’s head snapped toward her. “You knew?”

Liandrin gave a faint, tired smile, her fingers tightening slightly around Nesta’s. “Siuan told me yesterday.”

“And you didn’t tell me.” A slow breath escaped her lips.

Liandrin looked away for a moment, her gaze settling on the water gliding over rock, as if she were measuring whether her answer would do more harm than good. “I didn’t want to add pressure.”

The girl opened her mouth, but Liandrin cut gently across her. “Today I wanted...” Her throat bobbed. “Just this, a morning without the Tower, without expectations or tests hanging over us. I wanted to see you at ease, I wanted to remember what it feels like to just be with you.”

“Thank you for it.” Nesta leaned in, pressing a kiss to the back of Liandrin’s hand.

Liandrin didn’t reply at first. Her eyes shimmered with love, guilt and hope.

“The test will be hard.” she said quietly.

“I’ll pass.” Nesta replied, without hesitation.

The woman’s mouth curled in a smile. “I know you will.” But then her expression turned distant. “I remember mine. I walked into it with my jaw clenched and my fists closed, determined to show them nothing. And when I came out, I was changed.”

She plucked a stray blade of grass beside her, twisting it between her fingers. “The Three Oaths will shape you. The Red will mark you and there’s no undoing it.”

“Do you regret it?” Nesta asked.

Liandrin didn’t answer at once. Her gaze drifted upward, past the trees to the sky. “Sometimes I regret that I didn’t have someone like you, back then. Someone to remind me that strength didn’t have to mean solitude.”

Almost as an afterthought, she said, “I wish I could promise it gets easier. But the Tower doesn’t know how to let people be happy.”

Nesta smiled faintly, brushing her thumb across Liandrin’s knuckles. “Then I’ll just have to fight harder to be.”

Liandrin looked down at their joined hands. “Stubborn girl.”

“Yours.” Nesta said.

Liandrin’s throat tightened. Yours. As if it were that simple, as if loving her wasn’t like stepping into fire. She should have pulled back. Should have protected Nesta from all the things she could not yet say. The secrets she carried, the choices she had made, and the consequences that were surely coming for them both.

She had made a thousand promises to herself never to burden Nesta with those shadows. But now with her touch warming the places she thought had long gone numb, Liandrin felt hope. She had nearly forgotten how it feels.

And beneath that fragile hope curled fear. Fear that one day Nesta might look at her and see the whole truth. Fear that this peace, this happiness was temporary, a single breath before the fall. But for now, she believed in her. Fought for her. Chose her.

The door to their room creaked open, warm air drifted in with them, tinged with the scent of sun-warmed grass and the memory of the stream. Nesta stepped in first, loosening the tie of her simple linen blouse. Her boots were dusted with dried mud, her cheeks still flushed from the sun and their laughter.

“I’m going to change before dinner." she said, moving toward the wardrobe. “I smell like a horse.”

Liandrin followed behind her. Her gaze swept the room once and settled on the desk. Perfectly centered atop its polished surface, lay an envelope sealed in black wax.

Suddenly, the air felt colder, as if the dark seal exhaled its own chill into the room. Her entire body went still, held in breathless suspense. Her eyes stayed fixed on the letter, as though even blinking might let it vanish or explode.

Nesta, halfway to the washbasin, noticed the way Liandrin froze in the middle of the room. She slowed down and just silently watched her.

The Aes Sedai snapped back into herself and crossed the room in a few quick strides. She picked up the envelope with fingers that didn’t tremble but clenched just a little too tightly around the paper.

The dread blooming inside her was familiar. It uncoiled through her ribs, brushing up against the part of her that had only just begun to believe in peace. She slipped the letter into the inside pocket.

When she turned around, her face was cold marble once more. But inside, everything trembled. “I need to take care of something.” she said, her voice quiet but controlled.

Now Nesta turned fully. Her expression sharpened, concern rising. “What exactly?”

“Just tower business.” Liandrin stepped closer. Her fingers found a loose strand of blonde hair and brushed it with softness. Without another word, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips.

Her lips moved against Nesta’s with desperation, like someone holding on to something already slipping away. The kiss was warm and firm, full of all the things Liandrin couldn’t voice aloud now. An apology she wouldn’t speak, fear of losing the peace they created, love she fiercely wanted to protect.

When she pulled back, she looked at Nesta like she was trying to memorize her face. Every line. Every shade of blue in her eyes. Every reason she might regret leaving.

Her chest tightened with the burden of a choice she’d long made. One that had led her into darkness, into years of manipulation, and the twisted love for power that had slowly eaten away at the parts of herself she could never get back. And now, in front of her, was light. Her Nesta.

Liandrin hadn’t known what it felt like to be seen in so long, to be cherished in the way Nesta did. To be understood, even in her brokenness. She had already given too much to the Tower, to its schemes, to its darkness. And now, she was terrified that in trying to protect the only thing that had ever made her feel whole, she would break it, destroy the fragile beauty of what they had built.

She blinked quickly, unwilling to let herself dwell on that fear. Her voice came out low, barely a whisper. “Don’t wait up.” she said, each word tasting heavier than the last, carrying a weight she couldn’t shake.

Her hand brushed against Nesta’s cheek one last time, and it was a gesture so gentle, so laced with hesitation, that it felt as though it physically pained her to pull away. Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and left.

The door clicked softly behind her. Whatever the letter held, whatever choices awaited her, she would face them alone, just like always. But now, with Nesta’s smile and the memory of her touch still warm on her lips, the shadows of her secrets felt more suffocating than it ever had before.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Nesta stood there for a long moment, the silence of the room heavy against her ears. Her thoughts churned, still lingering on the kiss and Liandrin’s sudden departure. It had been too quick and something about the way how she had pocketed the letter with that sharp movement, raised a suspicion that she couldn’t shake.

A lie, a small one perhaps, but that was all she had managed to catch, but the thought gnawed at her. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became. Liandrin had lied. It was as if Liandrin had closed off a part of herself, shutting it away before Nesta could reach it.

But Aes Sedai cannot lie, the Three Oaths prevented it. Nesta’s fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic as she sat down on the edge of the bed. The rules were absolute. Perhaps she was keeping something from her, something for her own protection, or perhaps there was more to Liandrin’s past than she had ever let on. The kind of secrets that could break everything between them.

Nesta couldn’t help it, her mind wandered back to the things Liandrin had said in the clearing. How the Tower had crushed her, how it had shaped her. She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair.

She couldn’t let it fester, she had to trust Liandrin. But trust was difficult when there was a wall of silence between them.

The evening was quiet in the Tower, the low hum of distant voices muffled by the thick stone walls. After dinner, Nesta’s mind still circled the events of the past few hours. Her feet carried her back to their shared quarters and soon she stood before the balcony.

Liandrin was there, unmoving, seated in the armchair on her balcony, her posture rigid and her back to the room. At first, Nesta thought she was simply lost in thought, perhaps angry or frustrated. But as her gaze lingered, she saw the real state of Liandrin, she saw how the moonlight caught the shimmer of tears trailing down her cheek.

Her blue eyes were fixed somewhere far away. There was no fury in her expression, no cold command in her shoulders. Only a quiet, unraveling grief, the kind too heavy for words. Her hands, once steady and strong, lay clenched in her lap. Her knuckles bruised and the ache in them nothing compared to what sat in her chest. Shame, regret, the terrifying consequences of a life shaped by choices she could never undo.

Nesta stepped outside. She took a few steps forward, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do. But she knew she couldn’t leave her like this. Not when Liandrin, so often a fortress of power and flame, had been reduced to silent tears in the dark.

The older woman didn’t even seem to acknowledge Nesta’s presence. She sat motionless, as if her body had been carved from stone, as if even breathing took effort. Her gaze was fixed on nothing. Or maybe on a thousand memories and regrets she could never set down. A life of battles, some fought with Power, others with silence, with biting words, with lies sharpened like knives. A life spent surviving, not living. From childhood, she had fought against hunger, against fear, against men who wanted to own her, against a Tower that twisted strength into obedience. And a sick part of her wondered if it would all be better if she simply vanished. If Nesta would hurt less. If the world would be quieter and better without her in it. Maybe the things she'd done would always chase her, bleed into the edges of the life she was trying so desperately to build.

Slowly, Nesta sank down onto her knees beside her. She didn’t ask if Liandrin was all right, didn’t try to force words into the quiet. She just moved close, resting her forehead gently against the curve of Liandrin’s leg, offering her presence without question, without judgment.

The contact seemed to shake her from the stillness. She shifted slighty, but it was as if the weight of the world was bearing down on her shoulders.

It wasn’t until Nesta noticed the bruises on Liandrin’s knuckles, dark, purple marks that her chest tightened with understanding. She didn’t need to ask what had happened. The violence in those marks was not from a fight, but from something far more painful.

Liandrin had needed to feel pain, to anchor herself, to punish herself. And in the hollow aftermath, the bruises remained like a confession carved into her skin. Proof of the war she waged not with others, but with herself. Because even now she didn’t believe she deserved peace. She didn’t believe she was allowed joy or softness. And in those bruises, Nesta saw it all, the rage turned inward, the guilt that never stopped bleeding, the terror that she might poison anything good that dared love her back.

The girl’s head remained against her leg, gentle and grounding. “Lia.” her voice was low, just a whisper.

Liandrin didn’t answer immediately, her gaze still fixed somewhere far off, distant. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t pull away either. She let Nesta stay close, let her warmth seep through.

And she just stayed there, her cheek pressed gently against Liandrin’s thigh, her hand resting near those bruised knuckles as if to shield them from the world. She asked for nothing in return. She demanded no answers, no explanations.

Finally, Liandrin spoke, “I didn’t think anyone would care.” she said, the words laced with a sadness Nesta wasn’t sure how to answer. “I didn’t think anyone would notice how broken I am.”

Nesta’s fingers curled against Liandrin’s leg, her grip soft, but resolute. “I care.” she whispered back, “And I always will.”

Liandrin’s didn’t respond, but for the first time, Nesta saw her shoulders loosen, the tension beginning to lift just a little. They stayed like that for a long while, neither of them speaking. There was no need for words, not when the silence between them was filled with understanding. Liandrin’s fingers finally moved, resting on top of Nesta’s hand in a silent gesture of acceptance.

The silent tears slipped free again, tracing the edges of Liandrin’s cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away, didn’t try to hide them. She let them fall, one by one, as the weight of everything she had been carrying in silence finally found a moment of release.

Nesta stayed with her, not once questioning, not once asking for more. She didn’t flinch at the sight of her pain. Her fingers curled more firmly around Liandrin’s hand, soothing her. Her thumb traced slow, patient circles across her skin.

She glanced up to study her face in the moonlight, those sharp angles now softened by sorrow, those fierce eyes dulled by whatever storm had come and passed through her. And then she leaned a little closer, laying her head more firmly against Liandrin’s thigh, as if to share some of the burden. She held her hand tighter, never letting go.

Eventually, Liandrin spoke again, her voice hoarse. “Thank you for being here.” she whispered, her eyes meeting Nesta’s for the first time in what felt like hours.

The girl’s heart tightened. She didn’t need Liandrin to say anything more. She knew, she had always known. But in this moment, in the quiet weight of the night, she understood just how much it meant to her, to be the one to offer this.

“Always.” she whispered back, her voice thick with unshed emotion. “I’ll always be here.”

The ruined hall echoed with silence broken only by Lanfear’s remarks. Moonlight spilled through the broken stained glass above and dust floated in the air, glinting with each movement Nesta made as she focused on the weave Lanfear had just demonstrated.

But she wasn’t mimicking it, she was shaping it into something else. Silver light gathered at her fingertips, raw and bright as starlight. Not just threads of Spirit and Air, but something uniquely hers. It shimmered like flame and frost all at once, fire curling through the air, weaving into an arc of power that pulsed with her heartbeat.

Her eyes had changed too. The blue was still there, but at the center burned molten silver, glowing brighter with each weave, as if her very soul had caught on fire.

Lanfear’s voice came soft but sharp. “You’re getting faster. More fluid.”

Nesta didn’t respond. The silver flame in her hand danced higher, hungry for more, but controlled. And yet, in the back of her mind, the image of Liandrin on the balcony, silent and broken, the moonlight catching the sight of tears she hadn’t tried to hide, returned. Her chest tightened the devastation of not knowing how to help, of seeing the strongest woman she knew come undone by something she refused to speak aloud.

The silver flame flickered. Not from strain, but from love and worry.

“You hesitate, when you think of her.” Lanfear murmured, stepping closer.

The flame flared brighter.

“She’s a chain.” she said. “One you wrap around your own throat.”

Nesta turned her head, the silver glow in her eyes narrowing. “That’s not true.”

“She weakens you, little flame.” Lanfear snapped. “She breaks you and you’re meant to rise. Not to suffer because of somebody like her.”

The air in the hall seemed to tighten, the silver fire rippling with the spike in Nesta’s emotions. Cracks deepened in the stained marble beneath their feet. “Don’t do this, Lanfear.” she warned.

“I’m trying to protect you.”

“No, you’re trying to make me choose.” Nesta said, voice low but steady, silver flame flickering up her wrist now like it knew her truth before she said it.

Lanfear stilled, she looked like she might deny it, she didn’t. “If you don’t, she’ll be the one to destroy you.”

Nesta stepped forward, silver fire trailing behind her, casting shifting light across the ruined hall. “You don’t get to choose who I love.” she snapped.

The Forsaken’s mask didn’t just break, it crumbled. “I never wanted to.” she whispered, the words brittle, splintering in her throat. “I only wanted to be enough for someone. Just once.” Her voice cracked at the end, soft and breaking in a way that no one had likely ever heard from her. A confession not meant for the world, but torn from a wound that had never healed. Not even in all the long, cold centuries of her immortal life.

The silver fire dimmed. Nesta saw the truth beneath all of Lanfear’s sharp edges and games. The aching loneliness, the hunger to be seen and loved, not as a legend or a monster, but as someone who once dreamed of being chosen.

Her hand lowered and the flame curled back into her skin like a sigh. “You are powerful, dangerous, manipulative, and cruel sometimes.” she said quietly. “But you are not unworthy of love.”

“Don’t say that.” Lanfear said, barely audible. “You don’t know what I am. What I’ve become to survive being unwanted.”

“I don’t need to know, because I’ve seen the part of you that’s still fighting for more.” Nesta said. “You keep pretending this is about power, but it’s not.”

She stepped closer and extended her hand, silver threads flickering gently from her fingertips. “You say you only wanted to be enough.” she said softly. “Then let this be enough. This moment, no pretending. No war between us.”

Lanfear stared at the offered hand like it was a lifeline wrapped in fire. Her own hand curled tighter. “You’d give me peace?” she asked, her voice fraying at the edges. “Even after everything I’ve tried to take from you?”

“Yes, because I don’t think anyone’s ever truly offered it to you.” Nesta answered.

Carefully, Lanfear’s pale fingers reached out, brushing against the girl’s. The instant their hands touched, something unusual surged between them. It was not just a spark, but an explosion of power. Nesta’s silver flame, so pure and bright, erupted around them in a cascade of light, wrapping the place in its shimmering glow. But against it, there was a darker flame rising from Lanfear’s side. It wasn’t the blackness of destruction, but the shadow of everything Lanfear had carried with her.

The two flames tangled together, twisting in a wild dance of opposites. Silver and shadow, light and darkness, bound in a strange union. The place exploded with power, the walls flickering and shifting in the intensity of the connection. Where Nesta’s flame burned brightly, pure and unyielding, Lanfear��s dark fire followed its rhythm, more controlled but just as consuming in its own way.

They stood in the center of the storm, both women wrapped in the embrace of their powers. But in the midst of the chaos, something else began to form. A connection, tenuous at first, but growing, like a thread woven between two souls. They could feel each other’s heartbeat through the light and the dark.

The Forsaken’s breath came faster, the edges of her mask slipping as she looked at Nesta, as though seeing her for the first time. There was no manipulation in her gaze, just an open vulnerability that made her heart ache.

“What are we doing?” Nesta asked.

But she felt their connection too. The way the two flames met and danced together. She squeezed Lanfear’s hand, the silver light flaring brighter as she held the darkness with her own fire.

“We’re not doing anything.” Lanfear answered. “We’re just being.”

For a long moment, they stood there, their powers intertwined in a blaze of silver and shadow. It was not a fight. It was not a seduction. It was a bridge between the darkness of Lanfear’s past and the light of Nesta’s future. And though the chaos raged around them, neither of them pulled away. In that instant, both women saw the truth, the power they held could destroy, but it could also create. They could choose to let the flames burn them alive or they could choose to walk away from the ashes and see what remained.

Finally, Lanfear withdrew her hand, though the lingering connection still pulsed between them. Her fingers tingled with the aftershock of their touch, and for the first time in so long, she felt something akin to peace.

The flames dimmed, the light and shadow pulling back into themselves.

“You’ve given me peace.” Lanfear said, her voice a mixture of awe and pain. “Even when I didn’t think I deserved it.”

Nesta stood tall, her eyes soft. “Maybe we don’t deserve it, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have it.”

Lanfear didn’t speak for a moment. She simply nodded, her gaze steady, though her heart was not. Slowly, she turned to leave, but this time, there was no bitterness in her step. No hasty retreat into shadows. There was only a heart learning how to hope again.

#kate fleetwood #liandrin guirale x reader #liandrin sedai #lanfear #liandrin guirale #wheel of time #lanfear x reader #natasha o'keeffe

7 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 21 | The Lioness Of My Heart

A bit of bitter truth and acceptance at the end. - around 8k words

The doors to Siuan’s study swung open with a force that sent them rattling against the walls. Liandrin stormed in, her presence demanding attention with every step. Her red gown shimmered faintly in the light, the black detailing at the edges of the sleeves and collar adding an air of subtle menace. Her golden hair fell around her shoulders in loose, wavy curls, as if she had just pulled it free from a braid, giving her a wild look that only added to the sharp edge of her fury.

Siuan looked up, a brow arched in mild surprise, but she made no effort to rise from her desk.

“What is it, Liandrin?” Siuan’s tone was calm as always.

Liandrin’s eyes, sharp and icy, narrowed as she took in the sight of Siuan seated so casually, as though the weight of what was about to transpire didn’t matter at all.

“You know very well what this is about.” Liandrin hissed. “Leane allowed Nesta to be punished. My punishment, Siuan.” She stepped forward, her boots clicking sharply against the stone floor with every step, closing the distance between them.

Siuan’s eyes narrowed, but she remained seated, her posture still that of someone who controlled the room. “You’re blaming me for the actions of others, Liandrin?” her voice had a biting edge now, each word carefully measured. “Perhaps it was your own actions that led us here. You were the one who claimed the girl publicly, weren’t you? You made her yours, made her a part of your agenda. And now you’re complaining about the consequences?”

Liandrin’s breath hitched, her anger intensifying. She stepped closer, leaning down slightly to meet Siuan’s gaze. “I claimed her because she has potential, Siuan. Potential that you are too blind to see. And if you think for one second that I’ll let you and the others destroy her, you’re wrong.”

Siuan leaned back in her chair, studying Liandrin with cold, calculating gaze. “You claim she has potential?” Her voice was calm, but there was a steel edge to it now. “Then perhaps, if she has so much of it, it’s time she proved it. She’ll take the final test of Aes Sedai at the end of this week. If she’s truly as capable as you say, it’ll show then.”

The words hung between them and Siuan leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs with confidence that only fueled the growing fire in Liandrin’s chest.

The Red Aes Sedai's fury burned hotter. She let out a tight, bitter laugh, her voice laced with contempt. “This is your solution? The Tower has become a place of survival, not growth. You’d throw Nesta into the flames, just to see if she burns?”

Siuan’s smile didn’t waver, but there was something sharper in her eyes now, “This is the reality she will face. The Tower doesn’t care about potential. It cares about strength. If Nesta is as strong as you say she is, she’ll pass the test, and she’ll prove herself.”

Liandrin straightened, her voice steady. “Nesta will pass, I made sure of it. Every step I’ve taken with her has been to make her stronger, to mold her into someone capable of standing here, just as she deserves.”

Siuan’s gaze flickered to Liandrin, her lips curling into a barely concealed smirk. “Oh, I’m not worried, Liandrin. You see, I know what you really are. You were once a stray, weren’t you? A girl with no noble blood, no family of high standing, just a poor, uneducated girl with an accent that made you stand out like an outsider.”

Liandrin’s body stiffened at the mention of her roots, but Siuan pressed on, her tone sharp and filled with disdain. “And look at you now. Trying to act like you belong, trying to force yourself into a role you were never meant for, just like you forced your way into claiming Nesta. But it’s all for show, isn’t it? You, of all people, should know what happens when someone like you tries to rise above their station.”

Liandrin’s teeth ground together, but she didn’t flinch. “You think you can humiliate me with my past, Siuan?”

“It’s not about humiliation, Liandrin. It’s a reminder of your place here.” Siuan paused for a beat, letting her words sink in. “I supported you mentoring Nesta. She’s strong, and I saw value in what you could teach her. But when you made it personal, when you took her to your bed, that crossed a line.”

Liandrin’s expression darkened, her voice soft but laced with venom. “You speak of lines, Siuan, but tell me, how many lines have you crossed in your own life?” she said, her gaze intense. “I wonder how many times you’ve bent the rules for dear Moiraine. How many times you’ve let that relationship cloud your judgment. How many times have you allowed it to shape the very decisions you make, turning a blind eye to what others might think, simply because she’s your Moiraine?”

Her lips curled into a tight smile, a sharp laugh escaping her. “You may think you can lecture me on crossing lines, but don’t pretend that your own are any less blurry.

Siuan’s chair scraped against the stone as she stood, the motion sudden, her composure cracking. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to me, Liandrin.” She stepped out from behind the desk, each word a lash. “You want to talk about judgment? Then let’s talk, I am the Amyrlin Seat. I was chosen to lead, to uphold the Tower’s traditions, its strength, its future. You were barely tolerated. You earned your place, but never our trust. And now you dare throw stones from the mud you crawled out of?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper that struck harder than any shout. “If Nesta is truly as strong as you claim, then she belongs here. If she has the potential to rise above her past, then she will become part of this Tower.” Siuan continued, “But you, Liandrin... Well, once Nesta passes the test, you’ll be nothing more than an afterthought, a tool that was useful only for a time.”

Liandrin opened her mouth, her fury boiling over, lips already parting for a retort, but Siuan raised a hand sharply.

“Spare me your dramatics, you’ve said enough.” she snapped, not bothering to look at her. “This conversation is over. You may leave.”

Liandrin stood frozen, her breath caught behind clenched teeth. A thousand things pressed at her throat, insults, truths, fury, but none made it past her lips. She had been dismissed like some child, while Siuan sat in her chair of power, cloaked in nobility and the love of Moiraine, as if that justified everything.

Always Moiraine. The name tasted bitter, like something left to rot. It wasn’t just the power or the prestige. It was the ease, the way Siuan looked at her Blue Sister. She had seen it a hundred times in stolen glances and whispered words. And all the while, she had fought alone.

Memories clawed up from the depths she tried so hard to bury. The reek of Tanchico. The cold bed of a man thrice her age, whose hands bruised and broke, and called it marriage. She could still feel the stale breath on her neck, the way her spirit had died a little more each night. The Tower had been her escape, but even here, she was made to prove her worth, again and again, surrounded by women who sneered at her accent, her scars, her origin.

She had bled to become better and stronger. And still, Siuan had thrown her past at her like filth.

Her breath shook, but she swallowed it down. All of it. The rage, the ache, the humiliation. But then she thought of Nesta. Nesta, with her storm-bright eyes, stubborn mouth, and that fierce heart. Nesta, who had stood in her place, taken the pain meant for her without flinching, as if it were an honor. No one had ever done that for her. Not once in all her years of clawing and surviving. Nesta knew all of Liandrin’s cracks and scars, and still looked at her like she was worthy of love.

Liandrin’s jaw clenched as she turned sharply on her heel, boots striking the stone with purpose. She didn’t spare Siuan another look. Let the Amyrlin Seat sit in her tower of rotten illusions.

Nesta was her future. And by the Light and the Shadow, she would make sure the girl survived it all.

The dream formed around the girl, as she stood suspended in a place that defied reason. There was no ground, no sky, only a platform of silver light afloat in a sea of darkness. Stars swirled far above, distant and ancient, and silver threads stretched across the void like veins through the cosmos.

But she wasn’t alone, Lanfear was already there.

She stood at the far end of the platform, tall and still, her white gown rippling like liquid moonlight. Her dark hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her presence, always sharp felt different tonight. More guarded and composed. Her stance was strong, like a goddess preparing for war than dreaming among stars.

Nesta saw the difference instantly. It wasn’t like the last time, when she had stumbled upon Lanfear by accident. All alone and unaware, sitting silently in the dream’s farthest reach. But now she had built the walls back up.

She stepped forward, the light beneath her feet rippling like water. The stars whispered around them. “I didn’t expect you to come so soon.” Nesta said softly.

Lanfear turned at last, her bright eyes found Nesta’s, and relief flickered behind them.

She had replayed the conversation in her mind, again and again. How Nesta might return. How their conversation would go. Lanfear had imagined smiling, teasing, commanding. She’d imagined words tumbling from her mouth, clever, cutting, seductive. She’d imagined Nesta defiant, then yielding. Perhaps even reaching for her. But when the moment came, when those blue eyes met hers across the dream, all that rose to her lips were three simple words. “I never left.”

It wasn’t what she meant to say. Not even close. But they were all that made it past the ache in her chest.

Nesta took a slow breath. Her voice, when it came, was softer than she meant it to be. “How are you?” she asked.

It was such a simple question and yet, coming from Nesta, who had spent so much of her time around Lanfear resisting and lashing out, it landed with a strange gentleness.

Lanfear blinked, as if it physically struck her. She tilted her head, a smile almost forming, but not quite. No one asked how she was. No one dared. Not in the Age of Legends, not now. And for a heartbeat, something unguarded shimmered in her eyes.

“I manage.” she said at last, the answer too polished. She glanced away, to the stars that drifted like half-remembered dreams beyond them.

But Nesta had seen that brief crack. The glint of solitude beneath all the power. The same solitude she’d glimpsed that day when she arrived unseen, and found Lanfear sitting in the vast quiet of Tel’aran’rhiod alone.

That image clung to her now. She couldn’t shake it, couldn’t stop wondering what that the most terrifying woman she had ever known could look so utterly alone when no one was looking.

“Do you ever get tired of pretending you don’t need anyone?” she asked.

Lanfear’s gaze snapped back to her. The stars turned in the dream around them, the silence between them expanding. Without a word, she took a step forward. And another.

Her feet barely made a sound on the shimmering platform of light beneath them, as if the dream itself refused to resist her approach. She moved with her usual grace, but something about her posture seemed more cautious, as if she wasn’t certain if coming closer was a gift or a threat.

Nesta didn’t move. Her heart beat faster with every step Lanfear took, but she held her ground, searching that unreadable face for something real.

Lanfear stopped just a breath away. Her eyes lingered on Nesta’s lips, then her eyes, as if she was calculating the risk of saying too much. “I don’t get tired.” she answered, “I get angry, that I still feel it, that I still want it.”

She almost sounded ashamed of the words as they left her mouth. The Forsaken, the woman who bent dreams to her will, who walked through the world like it was hers to claim, was standing in front of Nesta, not as a goddess or predator, but like a human who, despite everything, still felt lonely.

“What do you mean, want?” Nesta asked. “Is it all about power for you?” she pressed, stepping a little closer, her voice careful. “

“A woman always wants power.” Lanfear said, almost playfully. But her tone lacked bite. “But there’s more than one kind, little flame. The kind that bends nations and the kind that softens when someone speaks your name like it means something.”

Nesta opened her mouth to speak again, but Lanfear spoke quicker than she could respond, “Curiosity looks good on you.” she murmured. Her posture straightened, and then she turned, gliding a few paces away. “But we’re not here to talk about my ghosts.”

The girl watched her, the words lingering in the air. There was something about Lanfear’s tone, the way she so effortlessly shifted from warmth to distance, that both unsettled and intrigued her. She wondered if Lanfear had really been as lonely as she seemed.

Was that why she held on to power with such desperation? But the thought was quickly replaced by the storm of emotions Lanfear always brought with her.

“This is your lesson, and today, you will reach beyond what the White Tower taught you. What your precious Liandrin is capable of.” Lanfear said, turning back. “You will reach for what they fear.”

She stepped closer again, every step she took seemed to slice through the space between them, the distance narrowing until there was nothing but the electric charge of their proximity.

“Touch it.” she commanded, her voice low, a vibration that echoed against Nesta’s bones. She was so close now that the girl could feel the heat radiating from her, a fire that should have burned, but instead, it pulled her in like a moth to a flame.

“Let go of the leash they gave you. Reach deeper than saidar, deeper than the safety you cling to.” Lanfear’s words were soft, but they held the force of a command.

Nesta’s breath caught in her throat as she fought the pull. Her hand, the one that had become so familiar with the comforting warmth of saidar, now itched for something darker. Something colder.

Lanfear’s gaze never left hers, those glowing eyes watching her, waiting for her to make a choice. And then, with a single movement, she reached out. Her fingers brushed the barest edge of Nesta’s wrist.

“Do it, Nesta.” Lanfear repeated, more insistent now.

The cosmos around them seemed to shift, stars flickering in the void as if they too were waiting for Nesta’s decision.

Her pulse quickened, her mind screaming at her to resist. But her body wanted to give in. She wanted to prove she wasn’t just a girl from Caemlyn, wasn’t just an Accepted who could only follow the rules. She wanted to be more. Her fingers moved before she could stop them, reaching for that cold, silver thread of power. It coiled within her chest, now a sharp pull, a hunger she couldn’t ignore.

Lanfear’s lips curled into a barely perceptible smile, “Yes, little one.” she whispered, her voice thick with satisfaction. “Now you begin.”

The stars around them flickered more brightly, as if the very fabric of the world bent in response to the surge of power bubbling up inside Nesta. Her breath hitched as it surged through her veins. Not like the smooth flow of saidar, but wild and cold. It was as if the very fabric of reality itself was at her fingertips, the universe stretching open before her. It rushed through her, overwhelming every inch of her being. She felt every heartbeat, every breath, every movement as if the cosmos pulsed with her body and soul.

Her chest rose with the force of the power, her breath ragged, her eyes blazing with the glow of silver. The stars were no longer distant. They were hers to command. The dreamscape around them shifted again. The stars bent, rippling like water, and the very space between them warped as if time and reality were no longer bound by the same rules.

For a long moment, she just suspended in brilliance, in power, in the perfect stillness of the cosmos. It was pure as if she had become the space between stars, cold and eternal. But then the power surged too violently. The stars flickered again, and the trembling weight of the world returned, pulling her back to herself. She collapsed down, gasping for breath. Her silver eyes flickered, still burning bright, but the power, the vastness of it left her shaken. Before she could gather her thoughts, Lanfear was there by her side.

There was a shift in the Forsaken’s expression, something flickered in her eyes as they drank in the sight of Nesta, still glowing with silver fire. A quiet satisfaction settled in her feature. “That’s it.” she whispered with thick with approval.

Nesta’s breath steadied, but she could still feel the remnants of the power inside her, burning like a fever. And despite herself, despite the fear, she liked it. She wanted more.

Lanfear’s fingers brushed through her blonde hair, the touch soft but possessive. Her voice was quiet, almost gentle, but there was no mistaking the power of it. “You don’t have to fear me, my star.” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from Nesta’s face, her fingertips grazing her skin. “Not when I would burn the Pattern for you.”

Nesta had barely gathered herself when Lanfear’s lips curled into a smirk, one of those knowing smiles that made every muscle in her body tighten. Lanfear took a step back, her posture sharpening, the air around her rippling with an unseen energy. She seemed to exude a calculating confidence, and despite the lightness of her touch earlier, there was something in her now that suggested a challenge was coming. “Now, let’s see if you can maintain control of it.” she murmured, her eyes flashing with amusement.

Before Nesta could react, Lanfear moved. She was faster than any shadow, and in the blink of an eye, she was upon her, like a storm coming to life.

Nesta’s heart thundered in her chest, a mix of excitement and frustration blooming in her veins. She barely had time to process the new power that had just ripped through her and now this. She almost wanted to snap, to lash out with the fury still boiling inside her.

But when she met Lanfear’s gaze, she saw how perfectly controlled the woman was, how she held her poise. A subtle, smug curve played on her lips, an invitation, a dare. She was enjoying this. She was enjoying her.

Nesta exhaled once, and with a whisper of will, she summoned that power again. It didn’t resist her now. It came eagerly, flooding her limbs with silver flame, making the world sharpen at the edges. Her eyes lit up like twin new born stars. The dreamscape around them responded immediately, shadows coiled tighter, the distant stars seemed to lean closer.

Lanfear struck first, a flick of her hand was all it took. A blast of blackened force sliced through the dream, elegant and razor-sharp, aimed straight for Nesta’s chest.

The girl twisted aside, the force of it tearing through the space where she'd been a heartbeat before. With a snarl of instinct, she raised a wall of silver fire behind her, the flames hissing as they devoured the remnants of Lanfear’s attack.

The ground beneath them cracked. Nesta retaliated with a violent sweep of her arm, and silver arcs of energy tore through the sky like lightning, splitting the air between them with a thunderous snap. Lanfear flicked her wrist, and a mirror of shadow bloomed before her, catching the blast and redirecting it into a spiral that twisted into the clouds above.

Nesta moved quickly, almost too fast for her own awareness. The silver power coursed through her legs as she surged forward, hand outstretched, summoning a whip of radiant flame that cracked toward Lanfear with a roar.

The Forsaken sidestepped with terrifying grace, and with a sharp motion, she slammed her palm into the ground. Black stone speared upward in jagged pillars, forcing Nesta back.

The pillars shattered as the girl roared, silver fire erupting from her body in a pulse that blew the debris outward like wind-blown glass. Her silhouette glowed now, light lacing through her skin.

Lanfear laughed genuinely, as if caught off guard by how much she was enjoying herself. “Finally.” she whispered, and vanished.

Nesta spun instinctively, but it was too late. Lanfear reappeared behind her, arm raised, weaving something like threads of void, tightening them toward Nesta’s form like invisible chains. But she didn’t falter, she turned her gaze over her shoulder, her eyes now entirely silver, no pupils, no irises, only light.

With a soundless snap, the threads shattered before they touched her.

And then it was Nesta who attacked. She rushed forward in a blur, the dreamscape warping with the sheer force of her motion. Her hand grazed the air, and the energy followed in waves of power crashing toward Lanfear, who parried them with a shield.

It was like a dance. Their movements flowed, aggressive and beautiful. Fire clashed with shadow, silver light with ancient void. Neither held back, yet neither truly aimed to harm. They pushed and pulled, tested each other, felt the crackling rhythm of each strike and counterstrike.

Nesta let out a breathless laugh as their energies locked once more. Her silver thread curling around Lanfear’s darker weave like twin serpents. “You’re enjoying this.” she panted.

Lanfear’s smirk returned, breath shallow but eyes burning. “So are you.”

And she was, the power no longer felt like a burden. It was hers and Lanfear was no longer just a threat. She was bigger than a challenge, a partner in this storm of chaos and light.

As they stood there, breathless, light and shadow dancing in the stillness, Nesta felt that strange connection again. As if the power inside her had known Lanfear long before she ever had. As if, for a moment, they weren’t enemies, but reflections of the same flame.

The Tower halls were bathed in the first blush of sunset, light slanting through high windows in golden streaks. In their shared quarters, Nesta stood before the mirror, straightening the soft folds of her dress with hands. Her movements were careful, but Liandrin noticed. Healed fully or not, pain still lingered in the stiffness of her shoulders, in the slight hitch of breath when she lifted her arms.

The older woman sat in the armchair by the sofa, arms crossed tight over her chest, her golden hair unbound and falling in loose waves that brushed her elbows. She looked composed, every inch the perfect picture of control. But underneath, she was burning.

The frustration from earlier hadn’t faded. The memory of it itched beneath her skin like an old wound reopened. And now Nesta stood in the middle of their room, adjusting her braid with careful fingers, preparing herself for dinner with Moiraine. She knew she was being unreasonable. Knew it wasn’t all about Moiraine, but reason didn’t matter when her Nesta, delicate and bruised beneath her dress, tried to act like the pain was already gone.

You bled for me, and now you’re dressing for her.

It wasn’t fair and Liandrin knew that. But fairness had never governed her emotions. What governed her was fear, that curled through her ribs now. Fear that Siuan was right. Fear that Moiraine, with her soft authority and careful words, would get her hooks in Nesta’s mind. Turn the girl against her, twist her perception into something colder and more rational. And that once that door opened, Nesta wouldn’t come back.

So she watched her every movement. She noticed every time she breathed too shallowly or winced too slightly, and Liandrin hated herself for not stopping the whipping. She hated Leane for lifting her hand. But more than anything, she hated how little power she had to stop what was coming. So she sat, arms locked over her chest, eyes on the her lover.

“You're still sore." she said flatly.

Nesta didn’t turn, she smoothed the front of her dress. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not and you’re not going.”

The words landed with the same weight as a slammed door. Nesta’s hand froze just above the neckline of her dress.

“I said, I’m fine.” she repeated, quieter this time, but with the edge of steel.

Liandrin stood up. “And I said you’re not going.”

Finally, Nesta turned to face her. “It’s just dinner. I promised Moiraine I would meet her.”

“Of course you did.” Liandrin's lip curled slightly, the sneer barely masked. “Of course you promised her.”

Nesta blinked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re letting them punish you and now you’re rushing to sit across from Moiraine like it means something.”

Nesta’s brows drew together. “That’s not fair.”

Liandrin moved, her movements sharp with restrained fury. “No, what’s not fair is watching you walk back from the training yard, barely able to move your arms after the training, pretending like it’s fine, like you’re fine. And then brushing your hair back and putting on that calm face so you can run off and smile for someone who doesn't even care to know what you're becoming.”

“Moiraine asked me just for a dinner” Nesta answered calmly.

“And that’s all it takes, isn’t it?” Liandrin snapped. “Just one of them looking at you the right way, and you bend.”

Nesta recoiled slightly, her lips parting.

“You think she’s offering you clarity? You think she sees you as anything other than an unleashed chaos to keep close? You don’t know her like I do.”

“Maybe I don’t, but I’m still going.” Nesta said quietly. “At least, this way I can get to know her.”

Liandrin’s eyes flared. “Are you so hungry for their praise?” she asked, stepping forward now, her voice cold and precise. “So desperate to be seen as good. No matter what it costs you.”

The words were ice, but Nesta heard the fire beneath them, the fear, the bitterness she tried so hard to mask. “That’s not what this is.”

Liandrin gave a sharp, humorless laugh, “Isn’t it?”

She took another step closer, her voice low now, brittle with the emotion she refused to show. “You don’t even see it, do you? How you chase after scraps from people who would have broken you if they had a chance. You take their punishments like they’re gifts. And then you come to me and pretend you are not broken.”

Nesta flinched, her spine stiffening, but Liandrin didn’t stop.

“You smile through bruises, you speak like everything’s fine. But I see you, Nesta. I see how you wince when you lift your arms, how you breathe too shallow to stop the ache.”

“I’m just trying to survive.”

“Survive?” Liandrin laughed, a sharp sound that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m the only one who’s fought for you behind closed doors, while you keep chasing Moiraine’s approval like a dog.”

“Stop it.” Nesta whispered, but it came out weak.

“And the worst part?” Liandrin said, eyes flashing, her voice dropping to a cutting hush. “You like being punished, don’t you?”

The girl went utterly still.

“You pretend it’s duty, but deep down it makes you feel seen. Because the pain at least means someone’s watching.” Liandrin sneered, “At least it means you matter.”

Nesta couldn’t speak. Her fingers reached for the choker at her throat, an unconscious reflex, as if it could anchor her. As if it could explain why her chest suddenly felt hollow.

She didn’t look back, as she turned and went toward the door. Her boots were nearly silent on the stone floor, but the echo of that fight, of those words rang louder than anything else. The bruises beneath her skin didn’t ache as much as her chest did now. That cruel flicker in Liandrin’s eyes, the venom that came from something far deeper than anger.

Nesta reached the corner of the hallway and paused, hand braced against the wall. She drew a long breath, but it didn’t fill her lungs. Nothing did. She was completely hollowed out.

Behind her, the room remained silent in the aftershocks of what had been said. Liandrin stood frozen, her fists clenched so tight her nails bit into her palms. The words still hung in the air like ash, too heavy to breathe.

She hadn’t meant to say that, not like that. Not when Nesta had looked so carefully composed, so fragile beneath the surface. The way she moved so slowly, had already made Liandrin clench her fists with helpless frustration. Even healed, Nesta’s body remembered.

And her words had come out like a blade, thrown before she could stop herself. And Nesta had flinched like it was a killing blow.

Liandrin paced once, twice, then sank back into the armchair as if the cushions could absorb her fury. She stared blankly at the doorway Nesta had just walked through. “She was supposed to stay.” she whispered into the empty room. “She was supposed to understand.”

But the only answer was silence. Silence, and the faint memory of Nesta’s hand rising to her choker, not to remove it, but to cling to it. And somehow, that was worse. But more than that, there was something else pressing at her chest, sharp and urgent. She hadn’t told Nesta about the test. The test to become Aes Sedai was not a thing you simply walked into. Especially not when your strength was still reeling from punishment. And she knew that Nesta would push herself through it all just to prove she was strong enough.

Liandrin leaned forward, elbows on her knees, head in her hands. Instead of shielding her lover, she had thrown the worst insecurities at Nesta like weapons. And when she had needed reassurance or maybe even comfort, Liandrin had given her judgment. All because the sight of her going to Moiraine had stirred something ugly inside her. Old rivalries, old pain. Moiraine, who’d had everything, respect, praise, an easy place in the Tower’s glittering mask of order.

Liandrin had been so scared of losing her. Of being replaced. Of being seen as less.

That’s what this is, isn’t it? Not about Moiraine, not about bruises, but about how much she needed her.

The river shimmered beneath the bridges of Tar Valon, the final hues of sunset painting the world in dying gold. A soft breeze curled off the Erinin, carrying with it the scent of cedar and distant rain. Nesta stood at the edge of the quiet, stone-walled terrace where Moiraine had told her to meet. From here, the city looked distant, like it belonged to someone else's life.

The Blue Aes Sedai was already waiting, seated at a small table set with two plates, a silver teapot steaming between them. Her blue-gray eyes turned as Nesta approached, and a smile touched her lips. “You’re punctual.” she said lightly. “I was half-sure you wouldn’t come.”

Nesta sat down across from her, keeping her posture straight. “Good evening, Moiraine Sedai. I said I would.”

“Indeed.” Moiraine poured the tea without asking, her movements graceful. “I hope elderflower suits you. I find it clears the head.”

Nesta murmured a quiet thanks, fingers curling around the warm cup. She hadn’t realized how cold her hands had become.

The food was simple but elegant, roasted duck with honeyed pear, and a small salad with citrus and soft cheese. Moiraine took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then glanced at Nesta again. “You’ve changed since I first saw you in the halls long time ago.” she said, not unkindly. “There’s steel in your spine now.”

Nesta blinked. “I’m trying to be better.”

“Better?” Moiraine echoed. “Is that your word, or theirs?”

Silence stretched between them, weighty but not cruel. Nesta reached for her tea again to avoid answering. She wasn’t sure what truth would come out if she spoke.

Moiraine tilted her head, as if she’d expected that deflection. “Tell me, how are you finding your studies? Liandrin pushes her students hard, I’ve heard.”

The mention of Liandrin sent an ache through Nesta’s chest. She swallowed it, kept her tone flat. “She doesn’t believe in softness.”

“No, she doesn’t, and yet I wonder, do you?” Moiraine said, gaze sharpening.

“I don’t know.” Nesta replied honestly. “Some days I think softness is a luxury I can’t afford.”

Moiraine leaned back, regarding her over her cup. “You remind me of someone I knew in the Tower. She believed power had to be earned through pain. That fire was the only way to survive. She rose quickly and burned brightly. But in the end, she forgot how to feel anything but fire.”

Nesta’s throat tightened. She thought of Lanfear’s smile, of Liandrin’s voice cracking just before she said something cruel. Of the way her hands had trembled afterward.

“Did she regret it?” Nesta asked.

“I don’t know, she never said.” Moiraine said. “But she ended up all alone.”

Nesta stared out over the water, watching the lanterns flicker in the city’s heart.

“Whatever you’re carrying, Nesta, you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Nesta managed a smile. “That’s kind of you, but not everything is meant to be shared.”

She didn't speak of the silver fire. Of Lanfear or of the way the dreamworld still buzzed under her skin. This was a secret place inside her, and she’d learned the Tower was not a kind place for secrets.

Moiraine seemed to sense it, the edges of what was unsaid. But she didn’t press. Instead, she murmured, “The world has teeth, girl. And it remembers how you bleed. So the question becomes, will you bite back, or learn to heal?”

She looked at Moiraine, at the composed face, the calm voice that had always seemed carved from ice. But there was something in her eyes tonight. Not calculation. Not judgment. Just quiet understanding.

“I think...” Nesta began, then hesitated, “I think I’ve spent so long trying to bite back that I forgot what healing even looks like.”

Moiraine’s gaze didn’t waver. “And yet, you came.”

Nesta gave a small smile. “Curiosity.”

“That, is a good place to begin.” Moiraine said with a hint of a smile.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was thoughtful, the soft clink of silverware and the distant sound of the river filled the space between them.

“You’re not what I expected.” Nesta said finally, her voice quieter than she meant.

Moiraine tilted her head. “Because I’m not breathing fire and weaving secrets?”

Nesta huffed a quiet laugh. “Something like that.”

“I know what they say about me.” she said, eyes fixed on the dark waters beyond the horizon. “Cold, untouchable, loyal only to my cause. But causes are shaped by people.”

Nesta looked down at her dish then back up. “Do I surprise you?”

A beat passed before Moiraine replied, “Yes, you do.”

“Because of rumors?”

“No, because of who you choose to be.” Moiraine said simply. “Even when it costs you.”

Nesta took another bite of the roasted duck, its rich flavor balanced by the sweetness of honeyed pear. “Thank you.” she said softly.

Moiraine’s smile didn’t reach her lips, but it warmed her eyes. “Keep choosing, Nesta. Even when it’s hard. Especially then.”

Later, as they stood on the bridge, Moiraine broke the silence first, her voice light but with an undercurrent of curiosity. “I take it your time with Liandrin hasn’t been easy.”

Nesta tensed, a brief flash of irritation flaring. She wasn’t sure why Moiraine’s observation stirred something within her, but it did. She forced herself to maintain her composure, holding her chin slightly higher. “Liandrin, she’s complex.” she said carefully, her eyes not quite meeting Moiraine’s. “But she’s helped me in ways that others haven’t.”

Moiraine watched the girl, her gaze assessing. “I’ve heard many things about her, but I’ve seen enough to know that you’ve gained her trust. That’s not a small thing.”

The words sliced through the fog of confusion clouding Nesta’s mind. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed, but she didn’t want to show it.

“You have a unique bond with her, I can tell.” Moiraine said softly. “But remember, sometimes those we admire can hurt us the most.”

The words felt like a warning, but Nesta didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to admit any weakness or doubt in Liandrin, not to Moiraine or anyone else.

“I’m fine.” she said, a little too quickly. “Liandrin doesn’t hurt me.”

The lie hung in the air between them for a moment, thick and awkward, but Nesta held her ground. She didn’t flinch when Moiraine’s sharp gaze met hers.

“Just be careful, Nesta.” Moiraine finally said, her voice sincere.

Nesta simply nodded with a forced smile.

They crossed the stone bridge back into the White Tower in silence, but it allowed too much room for thought. The cool evening air kissed her cheeks, carrying the scent of river water and old stone. The tall Tower loomed ahead, like it had watched generations bleed and rise beneath its gaze.

Nesta kept her posture straight as they entered, though each step sent a muted echo of pain through her spine. Her muscles still ached, stiff from the punishment earlier despite the healing Liandrin had given her. But it wasn’t this pain that weighed on her.

Moiraine glanced at her as they crossed the entry hall, her expression calm. There was an understanding in her blue eyes, but she said nothing, as if sensing that Nesta’s thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

Liandrin’s voice kept repeating in her mind, those words about her bleeding for others, taking their punishments like gifts, pretending she wasn’t broken. They stung because there was some truth in them. The bruises she had hidden from everyone else had been visible to Liandrin. It had always been visible to her and it hurt because it meant Liandrin saw her weakness even when she didn’t want to admit it to herself.

Moiraine halted at a branching hallway, pausing with a soft, knowing smile. “Thank you for tonight.” she said gently.

Nesta blinked, snapping out of her spiraling thoughts. “I should be thanking you.” she replied with a soft smile

“Goodnight, Nesta.” Moiraine said, nodding once before turning down the corridor and disappearing into the Tower’s deeper halls.

Nesta stood there for a long moment, watching the empty space where Moiraine had gone. And then she turned toward the familiar path that led to Liandrin’s quarters. Each step felt heavier than the last. Her mind replayed the argument, every word, every glance. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t know how to make sense of her feelings. She had wanted Liandrin to see her as more than just a broken piece to fix, to be more than the mistakes she had made. But that’s exactly what she had become in that moment, an object of pity and judgment. And the worst part, she hadn’t been able to defend herself. She hadn’t fought back against Liandrin’s words, hadn’t said anything in her defense.

She wanted to scream, to shake herself free of this doubt, but the more she thought about it, the more it clung to her. It felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in, like she couldn’t escape it.

She still cares. Nesta tried to tell herself. She’s just scared and so am I.

But even with that thought, the sting of Liandrin’s words refused to fade.

By the time Nesta reached Liandrin’s quarters, the halls of the White Tower had grown quiet. Moonlight streamed through tall windows, casting silver patterns across the floors, and her. She paused at the familiar door, her hand halfway raised.

She stared at the wood grain, at the handle she had touched so many times, and found she couldn’t move. She wasn’t even sure if she was welcome. She had thought she’d be angry by now, but all she felt was exhaustion. Tired of pretending she was fine. Tired of proving herself. Tired of the ache in her chest that hadn’t eased since she left. Her knuckles hovered near the door once more. Part of her wanted to turn around, but another part still wanted to be seen. To be forgiven. She touched the choker again, a habit she hadn’t even meant to form.

Finally, her hand closed around the handle and the door opened without resistance.

Liandrin was awake. Propped against pillows, a book open on her lap, golden hair cascading over her shoulders like it hadn’t been touched since Nesta left. She didn’t look up or perhaps she was pretending not to see.

The room was warm and quiet. Safe, in a way that only made the knot in Nesta’s chest twist tighter.

Liandrin turned a page slowly. “You’re back.” she said flatly, without looking at her.

But the words weren’t flat at all, not to her own ears. They were a dam straining to hold. Her voice was too even, because if she let it crack, if she looked up and saw Nesta standing there in the doorway, she might say something she couldn’t take back.

The moment she heard the door open, her heart had lurched. Relief had punched through her so hard it left her dizzy. She’d told herself not to wait up, not to expect anything, especially not forgiveness. But she’d been listening like a fool for Nesta’s return the entire time.

And now she was here, and Liandrin didn’t know how to look at her without remembering every word she’d flung in her face. Words that had been true in places, but cruel in all the ways that mattered. So she just stared down at the page, not reading it at all.

Nesta stood there, unmoving, and said nothing for a moment. The silence coiled tight between them. Then, quietly, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to come back.”

Liandrin’s head snapped up. It hit her like a blow. The way Nesta’s voice cracked on the word wanted, like it had been something she truly feared. That after everything they’d both walked through, Nesta would stand there, uncertain of her place.

She finally looked up and rose from the bed.

Nesta didn’t step forward. She didn’t move at all. Her eyes were shadowed with uncertainty, and her fingers hovered at her side. Liandrin saw the fear in her. But not of a fight, but of being cast out. Dismissed, off being told she didn’t matter.

Liandrin crossed the space between them in four strides. Close enough now that she could see the faint gleam of moisture in Nesta’s lashes. “I wanted you back the moment you walked out that door.” she said, voice hoarse with restraint.

Nesta’s breath hitched. Her chin lifted to keep it from trembling. “Why did you look at me like I was just a pathetic broken thing?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Because I was angry and scared.” Liandrin answered. “I watched you walk into Moiraine’s charm with your head high, and I didn’t know if you were doing it to prove yourself to her or to leave me behind.”

Nesta blinked slowly, her heart thudding in her chest. She wanted to be furious, wanted to lash out at the suggestion, but something in Liandrin’s voice stopped her. There was no malice in it now. Just a wound that hadn’t healed. “You think I’d leave you?”

“I think you don’t see what you’re worth unless it’s reflected in someone else’s eyes.” Liandrin said sharply, then flinched at her own words. “And it terrifies me. That one day, you’ll decide you don’t need me at all.”

It was the most honest thing she had ever said and it shattered Nesta’s composure. Liandrin wasn’t entirely wrong. The desire to prove herself had never left her. Not since she was a child in Caemlyn dreaming of something greater. The Tower had become her forge, and the pain she took on. But no one had ever said aloud the fear she had buried deep, that her worth was measured in suffering.

Nesta shook her head slowly. “You think I don’t need you?” Her voice wavered. “You were the only one who believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. The only one who stood beside me.”

“Then why go to her?” Liandrin hissed, pain bleeding into her tone. “Why smile for her? Why break yourself to please people who would never bleed for you the way I...” She cut off, chest heaving.

Nesta’s lip trembled. “Because I was curious, and I wanted to feel like I mattered outside of just surviving in this damned Tower. I needed to hear it from someone who doesn’t already own my heart.”

Liandrin reached for her at last. Not with fury, not with possessiveness, but with love. Her hands found Nesta’s face, and her touch was soothing.

“I was cruel.” she said, voice nearly breaking. “I hate that I made you doubt yourself. But I meant the part where I said I see you. I always see you. Even when I don’t know how to show it.”

She was trying not to shake. Trying to hold herself together, even as guilt and love warred in her chest. Liandrin had spent her life surviving by not needing anyone, by building walls. But now Nesta stood inside those walls and one cruel slip of her tongue had nearly driven her out.

The girl leaned into the touch, like a wounded creature testing a soft place to land. Her hands rose to cover Liandrin’s, her fingers cold from the night air. “I came back.” she said quietly, a fragile truth.

Liandrin exhaled like it was the only thing keeping her alive. “Then please stay.” she murmured.

Nesta didn’t answer with words. Her breath hitched, and one tear escaped before she could stop it. She stepped forward into Liandrin’s arms, into her warmth, into the only place that felt safe.

Liandrin wrapped her arms around her tightly, as if she could protect Nesta not only from the world, but from the voices in her own mind. She closed her eyes, her fingers threading in blonde hair.

They stood like that for a long moment, locked together, held in silence. Eventually, Liandrin stepped back, though her hands lingered at Nesta’s waist. She didn't speak as she reached for her clothes, fingers brushing lightly against fabric and skin. Wordlessly, she began undressing her, undoing buttons with patient hands, peeling away the day’s weight layer by layer.

Nesta didn’t protest. She let Liandrin move at her own pace, let her touch her with gentle care. When her underwear was all that remained, Liandrin stepped aside so she could slide under the blankets. And Nesta laid down on her side of the bed. Her body tensed, shoulders slightly curled inward, arms close to her chest.

Liandrin saw it all in a single glance. The way Nesta’s back stiffened, the way she made herself smaller, as if preparing to be told not to take up too much space. As if still bracing for another rejection.

She didn’t say a word, as she simply moved closer and wrapped an arm around Nesta’s waist, pulling her in until their bodies touched. Her leg slipped between Nesta’s, anchoring her in place with a protective weight. The hold was tight, but soft, as if she was trying to remind her where she belonged.

The girl exhaled shakily. And slowly, her spine loosened, her hands uncurled. She melted back into the warmth behind her, into the safety that Liandrin offered not with promises but with presence.

Liandrin pressed her face to Nesta’s neck, her lips brushing the sensitive skin there. “We can fight, we can argue.” she whispered, the words muffled against her skin. “But none of it will ever change how I feel.”

Nesta swallowed, barely breathing.

“I love you more than anything in this world.” Liandrin continued, voice rough but unwavering. “More than I ever thought I was capable of loving anyone.”

Blue eyes burned again, but she didn’t cry this time. She just reached down, taking Liandrin’s hand in her own, and held it tightly over her heart.

“I love you too." she whispered, “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

Liandrin’s fingers curled tighter against hers, and her breath warmed the back of Nesta’s neck. “I’m not going anywhere.” she said hoarsely. “Even if we tear at each other. You’re mine, Nesta. Mine to protect, mine to hold. And I’ll love you through every storm you bring.”

Nesta’s thumb brushed over Liandrin’s knuckles. “I shouldn’t have left like that. I thought if I stayed, I’d fall apart in front of you.”

“You could’ve.” Liandrin said quietly, her lips brushing Nesta’s hair. “Falling apart in front of me isn’t weakness.”

Nesta exhaled slowly, her voice trembling as she continued, “But it felt like it and I didn’t want you to see me like that. Not when you already think I’m...” She stopped herself. “I didn’t want to give you more reasons to regret loving me.”

Liandrin’s grip around her waist tightened protectively, like she was trying to save Nesta from her own thoughts. “There has never been a day I’ve regretted it. Not even in anger.”

The girl let out a small sound, almost a sob, but it dissolved into a quiet laugh. “You’re the most territorial woman I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re reckless and stubborn for your own good.” Liandrin murmured. “And I love you for every bit of it.”

Nesta turned her head that their cheeks touched. And she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Liandrin tucked her even closer, holding her tighter, arms strong around the her body.

Liandrin's fingers traced slow, grounding patterns over Nesta’s stomach, then curled around her ribs, possessive and tender. “You're the Lioness of my heart.” she murmured.

#liandrin guirale #wheel of time #lanfear #liandrin guirale x reader #kate fleetwood #lanfear x reader #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin sedai

10 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 1 month ago

Text

Lanfear and Liandrin rehearsing their "Welcome new darkfriends!" dance. Watch out for their musical number in season 4.

From S3 Bloopers

186 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 20 | Warmth After the Storm

Notes: Very emotional... but I hope it touches your hearts. - around 9k words

The rain hammered against the high windows of the Tower, a steady, unrelenting rhythm that filled the room with a muted kind of peace. Nestled beneath the heavy blankets, Nesta shifted slightly, feeling the weight of Liandrin’s body draped half over her. The air was cool, but the heat of their entwined limbs kept her perfectly warm. She sighed contentedly, blinking up at the dim gray light that filtered through the curtains. Somewhere far off, a deep roll of thunder growled, promising a fiercer storm before the day was done.

Nesta tilted her head, smiling to herself as she brushed a lock of Liandrin’s golden hair away from her cheek. She looked so unguarded like this, breathing slow and deep, one arm possessively slung across Nesta’s waist. Every curve of Liandrin’s body was wrapped around her own, a gentle pressure of skin on skin, as if Liandrin was making sure she couldn’t move an inch.

Her soft, even breathing drifted against Nesta’s ear as she moved closer, her body pressing more firmly into the curve of the girl’s side. Her legs slid around Nesta’s like a vine, long and strong, holding her effortlessly in place.

Nesta's fingers itched to touch her more, to stir her, to see those blue eyes flare open with that sharp spark she loved so much. Moving cautiously she slid her hand beneath the blanket, tracing the curve of Liandrin’s bare waist with a delicate touch. She paused at the sensitive spot just above her hipbone and then gave a deliberate prod with her fingertip, pressing into the firm muscle just hard enough to make it impossible to ignore.

Liandrin made a low noise in her throat, somewhere between a groan and a warning, and she moved closer, tightening her hold. Nesta bit back a laugh, feeling a bit wicked. She circled her finger lightly, teasing, before giving another poke, firmer this time, a nudge that jostled Liandrin’s entire body.

The woman’s brow furrowed without opening her eyes. "Touch me again and you’ll regret it." she growled, voice rough and deliciously dangerous.

But Nesta leaned in closer and with a playful smile, she let her fingers graze the smooth curve of Liandrin’s side, just below her ribs. The lightest teasing touch again. "Big words for someone too lazy to get up." she said sweetly, her voice light as she leaned closer, the tip of her nose brushing against Liandrin’s ear.

For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of rain against the windows, the soft patter of droplets merging with the hum of their quiet intimacy. Liandrin’s chest rose and fell gently beneath her, but Nesta could feel the energy already simmering beneath the surface. In an instant, Liandrin moved with a growl that was more playful than threatening, she seized the nearest pillow and swung it at Nesta’s head with surprising force.

Nesta shrieked, startled and amused, as the pillow struck her square in the face. The force of it sent her tumbling back, her laughter ringing through the room. "A pillow? Really? You must be getting soft with me." she taunted with a mischievous grin.

"You’re going to regret starting this." Liandrin answered, as she pushed herself up, the blanket sliding off her shoulders and pooling around her waist, revealing smooth skin. The warmth of her body seemed to burn against the cool air of the room, every inch of her glowing with sensuality.

Nesta scrambled back against the pillows, breathless from laughter, her body still tingling with the warmth Liandrin left behind. She snatched up her own pillow, holding it up defensively, eyes gleaming as she backed. "Is that a challenge?"

Liandrin smirked, utterly unbothered by her own nakedness. Her hair was wild and tangled from sleep, her lips still bruised from their last kiss, and her body a striking blend of strength and softness. “You shall see.” she said, her voice laced with self-assurance and a hint of mischief.

With the graceful ease Liandrin closed the distance between them and pillows flew through the air. The space charged with laughter as their bodies collided with soft force, limbs tangling in a chaotic flurry of blankets. Nesta shrieked when Liandrin landed a particularly good swing, the pillow’s impact jolting her, but in the next breath, she launched herself at her, knocking them both to the bed in a heap of muffled gasps.

Breathless, laughing so hard it hurt, Nesta found herself sprawled atop Liandrin, straddling her hips. She could feel the heat of Liandrin’s body beneath her. With one hand, she pinned Liandrin’s wrists above her head, while she held the pillow in her other hand, the weight of it a playful threat.

"Surrender?" Nesta teased, her voice husky with laughter. She leaned forward just enough to brush her lips against the sharp line of Liandrin’s cheekbone

Liandrin’s lips curled into a smirk, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t fight against Nesta’s hold. Instead, she let her body relax into the mattress, looking up at Nesta, "Never, my love." she purred, “But I like the view too much.” Her blue eyes darkened as they roamed over Nesta’s grinning face.

The storm outside roared louder, a rush of wind and rain that seemed to mirror the rising heat between them. Nesta’s heart raced, the playful teasing forgotten in the face of the feeling of Liandrin’s body beneath her, the heat that radiated from her skin. Her smile softened, the grin fading into something gentler. “You always have to make it difficult, even when I’m on top.” she murmured, her fingertips grazing along Liandrin’s jaw.

Liandrin’s smirk deepened. “Especially when you’re on top.”

Nesta huffed a breathless laugh, then slowly shifted, easing off of Liandrin with a final brush of her hand across her collarbone. But just as she began to move away, Liandrin’s hand caught her wrist with a firm, fluid motion. “No.” she murmured.

In one swift pull, she drew Nesta back down into her arms, wrapping both legs possessively around her. Her arms curled around Nesta’s torso, guiding her until the girl’s face rested against the warm curve of her chest, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat loud against Nesta’s ear.

Nesta let herself melt into the embrace, one arm slipping around Liandrin’s waist, the other resting softly against her ribs. For once, she didn’t need to say anything. The quiet was enough. The storm outside, the warmth between them, and the slow, steady rise and fall of Liandrin’s chest beneath her cheek.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled together in a silence that felt sacred. Rain whispered against the windows, a soft, ceaseless rhythm that cocooned them from the world outside. Every now and then, a distant rumble of thunder rolled through the sky.

Liandrin’s fingers moved gently through Nesta’s hair, not in a way that demanded anything, but in quiet devotion. Her other hand remained firm at Nesta’s back, keeping her close.

“Why do you like to braid my hair?” Nesta asked, as she relaxed into the sensation of feeling Liandrin’s fingers weaving through her locks. She enjoyed the intimacy of it, the way it felt as though Liandrin was not just touching her, but pulling her closer in an invisible way.

Liandrin’s breath hitched at the question, but she didn’t pull away. "It’s something I’ve always done for myself." she finally replied.

Nesta frowned slightly, sensing there was more to it. "The way you do it, it’s more than just a habit, isn’t it?" she asked softly.

Liandrin’s lips curved slightly, and her gaze softened as she looked down at Nesta. "You’ve noticed."

She seemed to consider her next words carefully, as if she were deciding how much to share. "I’m from Tanchico. In my culture, braiding hair is a way of honoring someone. Of showing that you care." Her voice faltered slightly, but her composure held as her fingers absently curled around Nesta’s hair.

“I never told you but I was twelve when I was sold to a man three times my age.” she said, with tremor in her voice. “He never cared how young I was and from that time no touch felt safe anymore.”

A rush of helplessness flooded Nesta. Rage on Liandrin’s behalf, sorrow for the girl she had been, and fierce love that threatened to break her open. But she didn’t interrupt, even though her throat ached with held-back emotions.

“When I finally escaped to the Tower, I started braiding my own hair again. It was the only way I could remind myself that I still had power. That I still had ownership over my body, even when others tried to take it.”

She took a steadying breath. “So when I braid your hair, it’s not just habit. It’s my way of saying that I trust you and that I care. I want you but on my terms. Neither stolen nor forced.”

“That’s so beautiful, Lia.” Nesta whispered, voice thick with emotion. She turned slightly, needing to see Liandrin’s face, to hold her gaze. “And so brave.”

Her throat ached as she tried to hold back all the feelings rushing in. “I had no idea, all this time, I thought you braided my hair just to soothe me, or because you liked the closeness. I didn’t realize it was so sacred for you."

She reached up, fingers gently brushing Liandrin’s hand where it rested near her hair. “I wish I could go back in time and protect that little girl. I wish someone had fought for you the way you fight for me now.”

Liandrin gave a soft chuckle. “You’re not just someone I desire, Nesta. You’re someone I want to let in into my world, my traditions, and my pain.” She brushed her fingers through hair, then rested her hand lightly on the girl’s shoulder.

"Thank you for sharing it with me." Nesta murmured, the words full with affection.

Liandrin smiled, “I love you, my Lioness.”

Rain drummed steadily against the windows of the library. Nesta scanned the shelves with narrowed eyes, recalling Liandrin’s vague instructions about the book’s location. It was supposed to be near the eastern section.

A lone figure stood a few paces ahead, her posture calm even with the thunderstorm echoing outside. Moiraine Damodred moved with purpose, fingers grazing the spine of a leather-bound volume before selecting another scroll. Her dark blue dress shimmered faintly in the low light.

Nesta hesitated, surprised to find her here. She had heard plenty about Moiraine. Some spoke of her brilliance, others of her dangerous independence. But none of it had prepared her for the Blue Aes Sedai’s presence in this moment.

Taking a steadying breath, she stepped forward. “Pardon me, Moiraine Sedai, I didn’t expect anyone else here this early.”

Moiraine glanced up from the scroll she had been reading. Her blue eyes fixed on Nesta, assessing, cool but not unkind. “Good morning.” she replied. “The library is never empty for long.”

Nesta offered a polite nod. “I was looking for a book. A recommendation, though not a very specific one.”

Moiraine’s lips curved faintly, a smile that held no judgment. “And yet you came seeking it anyway. You must be either curious or very obedient.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, her tone careful but sincere. “A bit of both, perhaps. Though I’ve learned not to believe everything I hear. Especially about people.”

“Ah, and you’ve heard things about me, I assume.” Moiraine turned more fully toward her.

“I have, some praising, some not.” Nesta admitted. “But I wanted to see for myself. Words in the Tower twist easily.”

Moiraine inclined her head. “Rumors in the Tower travel faster than logic ever could. But you seem the sort to make up your own mind. A good trait.”

A brief silence passed between them, filled only by the sound of rain tapping against the windows. Nesta tilted her head, watching her. “You seem to know a great deal. More than most. About people and other things.”

“I pay attention.” she said simply. “There are threads that tug the Pattern tighter around certain individuals. Some walk paths even they cannot yet see. And some leave traces where others cannot.”

Nesta frowned slightly, unsettled and yet drawn in. “Is that your way of saying I leave traces?”

Moiraine didn’t answer directly. She turned back to the shelf, running a finger along a row of books. “Some things are best discovered when the dreamer is ready. And dreams, you’ll find, have many doors.”

The words were simple, but something about the way she said them made Nesta’s skin prickle. She blinked, trying to ignore the cold trace down her spine

Then Moiraine added, almost in passing, “I’ve heard you’ve been keeping close company with Liandrin.”

Nesta stiffened slightly, not defensively, but alert. “I have.”

Moiraine didn’t look at her. Her eyes lingered on a title halfway down the row, though she made no move to take it. “She walks a path few would dare. You must be braver than I thought.”

Nesta didn’t respond at first, she wasn’t sure what to say. Moiraine let the silence stretch for a breath, then shifted course with that same elegant ease. “I’ve heard your name whispered in the Blue quarters.”

Nesta’s pulse ticked higher. “Another Blue?”

“She sees something different in you. You carry something unique.” she said, voice dropping slightly. “Not just in your presence, but in the way you stand apart, even when you try not to.”

“Different how?” the girl’s brows drew together.

Moiraine didn’t answer immediately. “As though your dreams reach farther than most would dare to look.”

The words hung in the air like mist, wrapping around Nesta before she could make sense of them. Her chest tightened, though she wasn’t sure if it was fear or fascination. But hearing it spoken aloud, especially from someone like Moiraine, made it feel less like an oddity and more like a secret being uncovered.

She forced a smile, trying to steady herself. “I guess, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

Moiraine’s expression only lightened, though there was a quiet calculation behind her gaze, as though she'd already decided something. “Would you consider joining me for dinner tomorrow evening? Somewhere in the city, away from the Tower.”

Nesta blinked, caught off guard. “You want to have dinner with me?”

“Is that so strange?” Moiraine’s smile deepened, calm and enigmatic.

Nesta tilted her head, studying her. “I didn’t think I was your kind of company.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Moiraine’s eyes, but beneath it, a sharper gleam of curiosity. “You may not be, but I’m curious to find out.” she said smoothly.

She turned slightly, as if the conversation were over, already slipping into the grace of departure. The gesture was subtle, almost absentminded, but it reminded Nesta of just how practiced Moiraine was at keeping others guessing.

Nesta hesitated only a moment before calling after her. “Alright. What time and where?”

Moiraine paused, glancing over her shoulder with a smile. “An hour after sunset. There’s a quiet place near the Erinin with a view of the bridges. I think you’ll like it.”

Then, without another word, she disappeared between the shelves, her presence lingering like the scent of rain in the peaceful silence.

Nesta stood alone in the dim library, the storm tapping gently against the tall windows, heart still steady, but mind already racing. Moiraine was different. She had expected distance, but instead, she felt a curiosity that edged closer to admiration. Something about her calm presence, composed grace, and the sharpness behind her words, all of it seemed to draw Nesta in, making her want to understand the Blue Aes Sedai.

Thunder rolled overhead like a distant growl, vibrating through the walls as Nesta moved through the halls. Flashes of lightning flickered behind the windows, briefly illuminating the gray stone and the sharp edges of her thoughts. She had found the book Liandrin requested, but her mind was far from its contents. The conversation she’d overheard between Siuan and Leane lingered in her thoughts, heavy and unsettling.

The hall was dim and Nesta’s footsteps slowed as she approached a corner, the sound of voices reaching her ears, muffled at first. She stopped, her breath catching, as her attention sharpened. She could make out the low hum of Siuan’s voice and the sharpness of Leane’s retort.

“It has to be done publicly to correct her arrogance and remind her of her place in this Tower.” Leane’s voice said, cold and controlled.

Nesta’s heart tightened at the words. Her hand instinctively gripped the book tighter, but she didn’t move. She was frozen, caught in the gravity of what she was hearing.

Siuan responded, quieter, but there was a chilling finality in her tone. “Alright, she’ll kneel before the Amyrlin Seat and answer for her words. Everyone will see her humbled.”

“Good, this will remind everyone who’s in charge.” Leane replied. “It’ll be a lesson, for both her and the others. A warning.”

Nesta felt a chill run down her spine as the implications of their plan settled on her like a weight. They were discussing Liandrin like a chess piece, to be moved and sacrificed with no regard for what it would cost her. The punishment wasn’t just a public humiliation, it could ruin Liandrin’s future, her entire place in the Tower. Her pride, her reputation, everything that defined her, everything she had fought for, could be ripped away with one action.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but the frustration was building. Liandrin’s words from last meeting echoed in her ears, the bold declaration made in front of everyone. It might had felt intoxicating. But now, it felt like a knife at her throat. The consequences of those words were unfolding, and Nesta felt trapped by them.

Her feet were moving before she’d even fully realized it, the urge to act, to do something, anything. She couldn’t just walk away from this, not when Liandrin was on the line. The hallway seemed to stretch forever as she quickly made her way toward Liandrin’s chambers, her mind racing with the question that had formed in her chest like a stone, What could she do to protect her?

She pushed open the door to Liandrin’s quarters, the cold air from the hallway rushing in as she set the book down on the desk. But as she turned to leave, a cold emptiness settled in her stomach. There was nothing else to be done right now. She was helpless, trapped in a system that saw Liandrin as expendable. Except she wouldn’t let it happen. Not without doing something. Even if it meant stepping forward, offering herself in Liandrin’s place.

Her mind made up, the choice was clear now. And though her heart thundered with dread at what might come next, she walked out of the room with a determination in her steps. The rain outside only seemed to mirror the storm building inside her chest.

The storm hadn't broken, but thunder rolled in slow, brooding waves over the Tower. Nesta’s boots echoed softly on the stone as she climbed the narrow staircase to Leane’s workroom, each step measured, every breath carefully drawn. Her fingers brushed against the braid Liandrin had woven into her hair this morning. A quiet, loving gesture that had made her flush with warmth. But now, it was a reminder of who she was doing this for.

She hadn’t changed her clothes since returning from the library. The white Accepted tunic clung slightly to her skin from the dampness in the air. She looked presentable and composed.

Leane’s room was open to the hallway. A quiet conversation drifted through the doorway. Nesta paused only once before stepping in. “Accepted?” Leane asked. “What are you doing here?”

“I need a word, Leane Sedai.” She met Leane’s gaze directly. “Privately.”

Leane glanced at the White Sister she was speaking with, a silent look that dismissed her without a word. The woman left with a curious glance, brushing past Nesta. The door clicked shut behind her.

The Keeper folded her arms, taking in the girl with a slight raise of her brows. “Well?”

“I heard your conversation with Siuan.” Nesta began.

“She brought this on herself.” Leane replied, stepping forward. “Such arrogance has consequences.”

“You want to humiliate her in front of everyone.” Nesta continued, “This is not about discipline or rules. Her future will be ash if you go through with this.”

Leane’s smile was sharp and humorless. “So? What will you do, girl? Raise your voice in the Hall? Beg for mercy?”

“No, I’m offering myself.” Nesta’s voice was steady.

Leane blinked once. “Excuse me?”

“In her place. You want someone to suffer for her defiance. Let it be me.”

Silence stretched between them and Leane began to circle Nesta, like a cat watching a bird it didn’t yet intend to kill. “I always thought, that you’d bleed for her someday.” she said softly, “But I admit, I didn’t think you’d crawl.” She stopped at Nesta’s side, looking her up and down. “Why?”

“Because she doesn’t deserve to be humiliated. Especially not by you.” Nesta said, shoulders straight.

“How tender.” She stepped back, hands clasped. “Ten lashes with Air, right now.”

Nesta’s heart thudded once, but she didn’t falter. “I accept.”

“You’ll strip to your undershift. Stand still, no shielding.” Leane’s tone dipped, lower and colder. “And if you cry out, I’ll take that as permission to go to eleven.”

“I won’t.” Nesta said, voice like stone.

“Confident, good.” Leane mused, then smiled cruelly. “I like the proud ones. They break prettier.”

The Keeper stepped toward the door, the sharp click of the lock echoing in the room. “Take off your tunic.”

Nesta’s fingers hovered at the hem. For just a breath, she hesitated. It wasn’t modesty. It was the awareness of what this meant, not just pain, but exposure. She would be laid bare, marked for someone else's grudge. But it was also her choice, that she had made it willingly.

Her hands moved, pulling the white fabric over her head. The air of the room met her skin, goosebumps rose along her arms. The silence that followed felt thick, or maybe that was just her trying to hold on to dignity where there was none to spare.

Leane's voice cut through the silence. “Face the wall.”

Nesta turned, her spine rigid, her steps silent. She stood tall in her trousers, bare from the waist up, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. She could feel Leane watching her, measuring her, likely waiting for weakness.

“Hands on the wall, shoulder-height.” She said.

Nesta obeyed. Her palms met the cool stone, fingers splayed. The position forced her to straighten, to expose every inch of her back. It was a deliberate demand, one that meant to strip her of control. But she met it head-on.

The wall was plain and indifferent. Her breath slowed, but her mind narrowed to a single point, Liandrin. Her voice, her touch, the way her blue eyes softened just for Nesta when no one else was watching. If this was what it took to protect her, Nesta would pay it. In blood, in silence, and in pain.

There was a pause behind her, then Leane’s voice, a little too amused, said, “Be still, I don’t want to ruin the braid she gave you.”

Nesta’s jaw clenched. The cruelty of it, the mockery nestled inside those words twisted in her gut.

The first lash came with a sound like tearing silk. It wasn’t a whip. Not leather or cord, but threads of Air, razor-sharp and precise, wielded by someone who knew exactly how to cut without breaking skin too deeply. But it burned, it seared like fire, deep and raw, and bloomed like a cruel mark across her spine.

The second hit came quickly after, slicing just beneath the first. Then the third, a little lower, methodically spaced as if Leane were painting a map of pain across Nesta’s back.

But, she didn’t cry out. Her fingers curled tighter against the wall, nails pressing crescents into her own skin. Her shoulders rose and fell in steady rhythm, her pale face showed only the pride of someone who refused to bend.

Behind her, Leane clicked her tongue in mock disappointment. “Not even a whimper?” She stepped closer, heels tapping softly on the stone floor as she circled like a predator with no interest in killing, just watching her prey bleed.

The smugness in her voice, coiled rage inside Nesta’s chest. She wanted to strike back, to rip the air from Leane’s lungs and watch her smile falter. But that wasn’t the point. This wasn’t about revenge. It was about protection.

The fourth flick of Air was precise and cruel. Leane wielded the weave like a scalpel, slicing just beneath the earlier mark, crossing the pain deliberately. The fifth cut deeper, a welt rose instantly, angry and raw, but blood hadn't surfaced. There was a pause before the sixth landed. She wanted Nesta to feel the anticipation, to wait for it. Leane made sure that every second stretched slowly, each heartbeat louder in the silence. And the pain bloomed again with the next strike, crackling like lightning through Nesta’s nerves.

Leane moved with grace after the strike. Tall from her high-heeled shoes, her long, dark hair was coiled into an elaborate bun that seemed impossibly tight and flawless, as if not a single strand dared defy her. “You do realize you’re bleeding for a woman who would tear the world apart only for herself.”

This time the lash broke skin. A fine, sharp line opened near Nesta’s shoulder blade, and she felt the slow trickle of blood snake down her spine. The warmth of it was a contrast to the cool air. Still, she stayed quiet. It was her choice, and she would endure it alone. But the thought of Liandrin gave her strength. She was her lifeline.

As the eighth hit landed, a precise strike across already bruised skin, Nesta’s knees buckled. Her legs trembled under the weight of pain and tension, joints threatening to give way. But she refused to fall. She clenched her jaw hard enough to ache, forcing her spine straight. Her braid swayed down her back with every movement. It was a constant reminder of why she was enduring this.

Because I love her. Because I chose this. Because I am strong enough to survive this whole damned Tower.

The ninth stroke landed with vicious precision, reopening even more the earlier welt. Nesta’s muscles locked, her breath caught and pain lanced through her spine, sharp enough to blur her vision. White spots bloomed at the edges, dancing like stars behind her eyes. She clenched her teeth, forcing herself not to fall. But something deeper than saidar stirred inside her, not the One Power, but something older, wilder.

Leane raised her hand again, taking her time. She looked down at Nesta like a judge ready to pass sentence. “One more. Still so quiet, are you thinking of her now?” She leaned in closer, her breath brushing Nesta’s shoulder. “I wonder if she would’ve done the same for you.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Not because she couldn’t, but because speaking would mean acknowledging Leane. And she wouldn’t give her that. Not a word. Not a sound.

The tenth lash came swift and cruel, slicing across skin. Her body jolted forward under the force, palms pressed flat to the wall to steady herself. For a heartbeat, she nearly cried out, but the sound that escaped her lips was only breath. And in that moment, her eyes sparked with a flicker of silver flame.

Leane stilled. “Almost broke on the last one.” she said, lips curling into a wicked smile.

Nesta pushed away from the wall, slow but steady. Her back’s skin was torn, blood trickling in thin red lines down her spine. When she turned, her expression was drenched in agony, but unshaken. “I didn’t.”

Leane regarded her a moment longer, then inclined her head. “No, you didn’t.” she continued, “Liandrin is clear of punishment. You’ve earned that much.”

Nesta moved stiffly, her body screaming with pain, but she didn’t falter. Her fingers trembled only when she reached for the white tunic. Lifting it was agony and sliding it over her shoulders even worse. The cloth caught against the lashes across her back, sticking for a moment before settling against the wounds. Blood bloomed through the fabric in slow, crimson patterns, but still she made no sound.

She turned with slow steps and moved forward. Each movement was a quiet act of will to leave with dignity. Her chin remained high, even as pain rippled beneath every inch of skin. The door creaked faintly as she passed through it, a sound that might’ve echoed louder if not for the thunder still rolling far above the Tower.

Nesta kept walking, each step away from Leane was a small victory. She didn’t need to look back, she had survived. And survival, in this moment, was enough.

The corridor blurred around her, footsteps echoing down stone like distant drums. Nesta didn’t head for Liandrin’s chambers. It was too far and she had no strength left to walk any farther. Her hands trembled as she reached the door to her old room, a place that had once been hers, before Liandrin. The room was colder now, forgotten. It smelled faintly of dust and lavender soap. She hadn’t slept here in weeks.

Nesta stepped inside, closed the door behind her with a soft thud, and leaned against it for a long breath. Her legs wanted to give out. Her skin stung with every small shift of fabric. But she didn’t cry. Slowly, step by step she made it to her bed.

She collapsed face-down across the thin mattress, too tired to pull back the sheets, too drained to undress. The tunic clung to her back, all soaked with blood. The braid Liandrin had given her earlier that morning was still intact, pressed against her cheek where her head turned sideways on the pillow. She should’ve cleaned the wounds, she should’ve at least tried to stop the bleeding. But her mind and body was shutting down.

And despite the searing welts, the blood-soaked tunic, and the cold that crept into her bones, there was a quiet pride buried deep in her chest. She had protected the woman she loved. Liandrin had protected her in a hundred ways, loud and quiet. Possessive and fierce. And now, Nesta had fought too. Not with her fists, not with saidar, but with her body and her resilience.

Liandrin’s boots splashed through shallow puddles as she made her way inside, the small paper box in her gloved hand already starting to tear at the corners from damp. She had gone to the city center, drawn by the memory of a bakery Nesta once offhandedly mentioned. A place that made the best honey cakes.

She was half-smiling when she entered the stone corridor, her thoughts still caught up in imagining the look on Nesta’s face. Perhaps she'd tease her for being sentimental, or maybe she'd blush again.

“Liandrin.” a familiar voice said.

Liandrin stopped in her tracks and noticed Leane, who leaned against a column, arms crossed, the picture of effortless superiority.

“What do you want, Leane?” Blue eyes narrowed.

“Nothing, just thought I’d let you know that your little pet was very brave today.” she said.

Liandrin's grip tightened on the box and Leane smiled, all teeth. “She took your punishment and received ten lashes of Air without any complaint.” She stepped forward slowly, “So eager to protect you. I thought it was touching.”

Time stopped. The hallway blurred around her and the sound of rain was distant. Only Leane’s voice remained. Fury surged through Liandrin’s chest, blinding all other feelings. It burned hot and cold all at once, like ice shoved into open wounds. “You let them touch her?” she said, her voice low and dangerous, each word trembling with contained rage. “You let them hurt her for me?”

“She volunteered.” Leane replied, lifting a shoulder in mock innocence. “And I did it myself, every stroke.” she continued, stepping closer. “She didn’t cry out once. You would’ve been impressed, Sister.” A slow, satisfied smile unfurled on her lips.

Liandrin felt like a blade slid between her ribs, sharp and merciless. Her knees nearly buckled, but pride locked them in place. All she could do was breathe, short, shallow gasps as her mind tried to catch up with the carnage those words left behind.

Her Nesta took the punishment Liandrin should have borne. In silence and alone.

The thought shattered something inside her chest. Guilt came crashing down like a wave, suffocating and brutal. The box in her hands suddenly weighed as much as a stone, though she hadn’t dropped it. She wouldn’t, because it was all she had left to offer. The only thing she’d done right today. The neat little package wrapped in string still held the warmth of the bakery. She had braved the rain and noise of the city center to get Nesta her favorites. A small surprise, a simple gesture to show she was always thinking of her. Not just as a weapon or possession, but as someone she truly loved and cared. And while she’d been gone, smiling like a fool at the bakery girl, pretending to be kind, Nesta had been suffering in her place. For her.

“Then I’ll remember it and one day, Leane, you’ll answer for every single strike.” she said, her voice raw now, stripped of her usual control. Her eyes met Leane’s, blazing with a fury that had nothing to do with pride or power and everything to do with pain and love.

She turned without another word, her back rigid with restraint. The box of sweets remained clutched in her hands, not forgotten. Just cruelly, mockingly intact. A symbol of everything she hadn’t protected.

The rain howled louder now as she stepped into the corridor, her heels echoing like war drums. She had to find Nesta.

The fabric of the world shifted before Nesta even realized she was dreaming.

One blink, and everything was silent. She knew this place, not from memory, but from the weightless way her thoughts moved. From how the wounds on her back didn’t ache. Tel’aran’rhiod.

Nesta walked forward slowly, her steps nearly silent. The floor beneath her was covered in water, ankle-deep, rippling gently around her feet. It reflected a shifting sky of stars and pale clouds, an illusion, or perhaps a truth glimpsed sideways in Tel’aran’rhiod. The hem of her red dress floated slightly with each step, trailing behind her. She hadn't remembered choosing the dress, but it clung to her frame like it belonged to her, the color rich as blood in moonlight.

And then she saw Lanfear. Not proud, not taunting, not wrapped in cruelty, sitting like a goddess above all others. But, curled on the edge of a bench, knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her hair, always perfect, hung slightly tousled. Completely barefoot, her head rested lightly against her knees, eyes open but distant. Her shoulders rose and fell slowly, with breaths that seemed far too heavy for someone so ageless.

Nesta stopped momentary. She had imagined Lanfear many ways, radiant, terrifying, seductive, wicked, but never like this. Never small and so human. This was neither a mask nor an illusion. This was real her, lonely and silent in a world of her own making.

It struck Nesta with unexpected force, the sharp truth that Lanfear, who could command shadows and seduce dreams, was still afraid of something. Not of the Dark One, but of emptiness. Of being left alone in a world that forgot her.

The girl didn’t move. Not a whisper of her presence reached Lanfear’s ears. She stood hidden behind a low rise, watching. Listening to the silence between them.

She should’ve turned away with disgust. Or used this as ammunition. But instead, she only stepped back quietly, as if she’d seen something sacred. She would remember this. She would remember Lanfear, as a woman sitting alone in the World of Dreams, with her arms wrapped around herself like a child no one came back for.

The Forsaken didn’t move, her bright eyes, normally glowing with cruel delight or simmering menace, stared out past the archway into the nothingness beyond. She wasn't watching anything in particular, just the space where something should’ve been. Her expression was unreadable at first glance, but as the seconds passed, small cracks began to show. Her brow knit slightly. Her fingers tightened around her knees, as if bracing against a thought she didn’t want to feel.

Alone again. Forgotten again. Always second to someone else's love. She’d clawed her way to eternity, but the price had never stopped echoing. She had made herself beautiful, powerful, divine. A goddess wrapped in moonlight. And still she was all alone.

A faint flicker of regret passed through her, a longing for someone. For a presence that might have stayed. A warmth she hadn’t summoned or seduced.

For a brief moment, she thought of Nesta and the thought of her always frightened. Not because Nesta resisted her. Not because she stood firm against temptation. But because she saw her. Even in defiance, Nesta looked at her as if she were a woman, not just a legend or a monster. And Lanfear didn’t know what to do with that.

She pressed her forehead against her knees and closed her eyes. Tel’aran’rhiod obeyed her will, but tonight she didn’t shape it. She let the dream remain simple and unguarded. She needed nothing else. Wanted nothing else.

Her shoulders tensed, breath hitching for a moment. She shook it off. Anger would return soon enough. Pride too. And she would rise again.

But for now, Lanfear let herself feel what she always denied, how deeply and terribly alone she was.

Liandrin burst into her chambers, the door slamming shut behind her as rain pattered sharply against the windows. Her heels clacked across the floor, a fast, almost panicked rhythm before stopping short. The room was empty.

The fire still burned low in the hearth, casting golden light over the soft bedding and the quiet stillness within. But Nesta wasn’t here. Her robe still hung where she’d left it and nothing had been touched. Liandrin’s gaze fell to the small, crumpled box in her hands. Still warm, filled with delicate sweets from the bakery in the city. She set it down on the nearest table with a trembling hand.

The knot in her chest tightened even more. Nesta would have definitely come back here, unless she couldn’t. Liandrin stood still, her mind racing as she remembered Nesta’s old quarters. A space she had abandoned long ago, when she’d begun sleeping in Liandrin’s bed instead. A sick certainty gripped Liandrin as she turned and all but ran from the room.

The corridors passed in a blur, she didn’t feel the cold of her wet cloak or the aching sting in her calves. Only the growing dread as her feet carried her toward the place she feared most. She shoved the door open without knocking and there, on the narrow bed, lay Nesta.

She was curled on her side, facing the wall. Her white tunic was soaked with blood where clean welts rose angrily across her skin. Leane’s careful cruelty written across her delicate skin. Liandrin’s breath caught, her vision swam. She crossed the room in two fast steps and dropped to her knees beside the bed. Her hand hovered over the girl’s shoulder.

Nesta flinched under the touch, as if she hadn’t realized anyone was there. Her eyes fluttered open, glassy and feverish.

“Hush, my love.” Liandrin said quickly, her hand trembling as it stroked her temple.

Fury boiled inside her chest, pressing hot behind her ribs, but it was nothing compared to the wave of guilt. “I should’ve stopped this.” she muttered, voice shaking.

A shiver passed through Liandrin, part rage, part heartbreak. She had been arrogant, so sure she could shield Nesta from all of it. And Nesta, sweet, maddening, and brave had taken the pain without hesitation. Like it was hers to carry.

The older woman swallowed hard, willing herself to stay steady. She didn’t have her salves. No clean cloths here. No proper tools for healing. She needed to get her back. “We need to move.”

Nesta murmured something, but it was too slurred. Her body sagged when Liandrin hooked an arm under her.

“I’ve got you.” she whispered, teeth clenched.

Nesta didn’t resist as Liandrin slipped her arms beneath her. The full weight of her leaned against Liandrin’s smaller frame, and the difference in their heights made it awkward. Liandrin’s boots wobbled, heels catching on the stone floor, but she gritted her teeth and bore it. She wrapped both arms around the girl, letting the Nesta lean fully on her. Her heart pounded with effort and panic of every stumbling step back to their chambers.

By the time they returned to her chambers again, Liandrin’s arms were shaking. When they reached the door, she practically kicked it open and carried Nesta straight to the bed, laying her down with all the gentleness she could muster.

Nesta had done this willingly for her. And Liandrin would never forgive herself for that. A part of her wanted to yell, to scream at her for being so foolish. For putting herself in harm’s way for someone like her. But instead, she found herself whispering, “You foolish girl.”

She felt as if her love twisted into a knot of guilt so tight it threatened to choke her. She could erase the marks with enough effort. Heal the skin, dull the nerves. But the memory would remain, etched in both of them. Nesta bore the pain now, and she bore the blame.

“Light, pet, what did you do to yourself for me?” she whispered.

She had to get the tunic off. Liandrin’s breath came shallow as she sat beside Nesta on the bed, fingers trembling only slightly as she reached for the edge of the white fabric. It clung to her skin, and pulling it free was a slow work. Nesta didn’t wake up as she eased it down her arms, but a faint wince crossed her brow, a flicker of awareness under the veil of unconsciousness.

Liandrin bit the inside of her cheek. Blood pooled under her tongue, metallic and hot, but she welcomed the sting, because it kept her from shattering. Nothing she had endured felt as vicious, as wrong, as the marks marring the girl’s back. She had failed her. The person who loved her deeply, who challenged her, clung to her, who had stood tall and proud despite everything.

Once the tunic was off, she tossed it aside with a barely restrained hiss of fury. Then she stood, moving quickly to fetch a clean cloth and her healing kit. Every step felt like walking through fire.

When she returned, the cloth was warm with water. Kneeling beside the bed, she dipped it and wrung it once. Then, with a tenderness that made her hands ache, she began to clean the blood from Nesta’s back. The welts were cruel, not wild or frenzied, but controlled and intentional.

Liandrin’s hands moved in silence, wiping the blood away with soft, careful strokes. Her jaw was clenched tight, her eyes stinging with heat. She would not lose control. But something deep inside her felt like it was breaking apart.

Nesta stirred, a sharp inhale, then a soft, broken sigh. Liandrin froze for half a second before setting the cloth aside. “You’re awake.” she whispered, voice hoarse.

The younger woman didn’t answer, but her eyes opened slowly.

“You’re safe, you’re with me now.” Liandrin said, lowering her voice further.

Nesta tried to shift, but a jolt of pain stole the motion. She tensed, breathing shallow.

“Please stay still.” Liandrin opened her kit and reached for her salves, hands steadier now with purpose. “I need to finish this.”

The salve smelled faintly of lavender as she spread it over each stripe, easing the fire in the skin. Then came the One Power, thin weaves of Spirit and Water, laced with threads of Air to guide the flow. The bruising and welts began to fade, skin knitting slowly beneath her touch.

Nesta let out a low sound and opened her eyes again.

Liandrin didn’t stop until it was done. When she finally leaned back, her hands fell to her lap, still slick with balm. She stared at Nesta for a long moment, no longer bloodied, but still pale and spent. “Was it worth it?” she asked in a hushed voice. “Hurting yourself just to protect me?”

“Of course.” She answered.

“You shouldn’t have had to.” Liandrin’s voice came out strained, a low hiss of frustration.

Nesta blinked slowly, her lashes fluttering as she tried to keep her eyes on Liandrin’s face. “But I wanted to.”

“That’s not the point.” Liandrin snapped, but there was no sharpness behind it, only the fraying edge of guilt. She lowered her gaze to her hands again, as if trying to scrub away what she couldn’t undo. “You think I needed you to bleed for me?”

“No, I needed it.” Nesta murmured.

Liandrin leaned forward, “If you ever do something that reckless again...” Her voice cracked. “You don’t understand what it does to me. Seeing you like this. Knowing I caused it.”

Nesta's gaze remained steady, though her body was weak. “Lia, I love you so much that this pain is nothing if it means you're safe in this rotten Tower."

Liandrin looked away, biting back the words crowding her throat. Her hands had taken the pain from Nesta’s body, but she couldn’t take back what had been done. Or how easily Nesta had chosen to bear it.

She had always been able to see through her. And now, even weakened, she could feel the storm of guilt and rage beneath the woman’s features. The silent fury Liandrin directed only at herself.

Carefully, she reached out, her fingers brushing Liandrin’s hand where it lay clenched in her lap. The contact was gentle and her breath caught as Nesta’s fingers curled around hers, warm and grounding. Liandrin hated how her throat burned at the unspoken comfort. Hated how Nesta, even bruised and bloodied, still reached for her.

Nesta shifted, then winced as she tried to rise.

“Stop, what are you doing?” Liandrin’s voice cracked like a whip, her hand shooting out to steady her.

She blinked at her, calm despite her state. “I want to take off my pants. And sit up properly.”

Liandrin stared at her. For a moment, she didn’t even understand the words. Then frustration flared. “Damn, Nesta, you don’t have to do everything yourself. You could have asked.”

“I can manage it.” She arched a brow, even as her body trembled from the strain.

“You think you can manage? Liandrin's voice faltered, thick with emotion.

Nesta’s mouth opened, but no reply came. Liandrin exhaled through her nose, sharp and bitter. “You put on that stone-faced mask like it protects you. Like it protects me. But it doesn’t. It just makes me want to shake you until you realize you don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

She knelt again with a sigh, quieter this time. “Let me take care of you without a fight.”

With careful hands, she helped Nesta up and undid the ties of her pants, sliding them down gently, mindful of the places where her skin still looked raw.

“Thank you.” Nesta murmured.

Liandrin looked up. “Thank me by listening to me next time.” she said, voice low and firm. She leaned in, her presence suddenly larger, more commanding despite the softness of her touch. “You should rest, now.”

Nesta let her head rest briefly against Liandrin’s shoulder, breathing slowly, her skin still faintly fever-warm. Liandrin studied her for a moment, then moved behind her, climbing onto the bed. Her knees folded to either side of the girl as she gently gathered the thick braid hanging down her back.

“I’ll be gentle.” She said, and her fingers began to undo the braid. Slowly unraveling it with patient strokes. She combed through the loosened strands with her hands, letting the hair spill over the girl’s shoulders freely.

“Will you please help me to get in bed now?” Nesta asked quietly.

Liandrin blinked. For a heartbeat, she was stunned into silence. Not by the request itself, but by the fact that Nesta had made it. She huffed out a breath. “Light, you actually asked for help. Miracles do happen.” Her tone was laced with teasing sarcasm, but there was a relief behind the words.

She shifted again, sliding off the bed, helping guide Nesta gently beneath the covers. She lifted the blankets and tucked them around her with a care, arranging the pillows behind Nesta’s back so she could sit with her legs stretched out and properly supported.

Only then did Liandrin pause and glance down at herself and realize her own clothes were still soaked through from the rain. Her crimson coat clung uncomfortably to her arms, damp at the sleeves, and her dress beneath it was sticking to her skin.

She stood with a quiet sigh, her expression softening. “Don’t move.” she ordered gently, before turning to the chest by the wall and retrieving a simple linen shirt. Liandrin stripped off her own coat and dress in swift motions, and slipped into the shirt. Her long hair wet against her neck, cheeks still flushed with lingering tension.

Returning to bed, she climbed back in beside Nesta. “See? Not so hard to ask, is it?” she said dryly, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

Nesta tilted her head toward her, a breath of laughter escaping her lips. “You just like hearing me beg, admit it.”

“And you’re terrible at letting anyone take care of you.” Liandrin raised a brow.

Nesta shook her head slowly, but the corner of her mouth curved upward. “It’s not that I don’t want help, I am just not used of asking.”

Liandrin’s gaze softened again, the sharp lines of her face easing. “Well, now you can and you will.”

Nesta let her body lean just a little more into the pillows, her limbs finally losing some of their tension. “That’s the bossiest way anyone’s ever told me they love me.”

Liandrin scoffed, but the hint of color rising in her cheeks betrayed her.

The girl’s gaze lingered on her, full of quiet awe. Even now, with damp hair, falling loose around her face, Liandrin looked striking. So strong, so fierce, and yet so full of feelings beneath the hard lines she wore daily. Nesta’s heart swelled with love and admiration. But then she noticed the careful restraint. The space between them, how Liandrin sat far enough away that their bodies didn’t touch. “Come here.” she said, voice soft.

Liandrin hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Please, Lia.” Nesta said with a sad smile.

Finally, hearing that quiet plea, Liandrin shifted closer. She moved until she was tucked beside Nesta, careful not to press too hard.

No one had ever asked her to come close like that. Not in love, not in trust. Her entire life had been about distance, keeping others away before they could abandon her. She had learned how to need nothing but herself. To never rely and to never reach.

Suddenly, Nesta’s stomach gave a loud, unmistakable growl. “I forgot to eat today.”

Liandrin sat up at once, her body going rigid beside her. “What?”

Nesta didn’t flinch, her expression didn’t twist in defensiveness, and there was no flippant retort poised on her lips. She simply met Liandrin’s eyes with honesty. “It’s my fault, I should've taken better care.”

Liandrin stared, caught off guard by how Nesta looked at her. Neither stubborn, nor dismissive. She finally took responsibility without flinching. No excuses, no bristling pride to guard her. Just honesty. It was a rare moment of growth that Liandrin almost didn’t know what to do with it. The same woman who had once responded with sharp retorts whenever someone dared point out her self-neglect, now sat calmly before her, accepting the truth with grace.

“You should’ve...” Liandrin echoed softly, her chest tightening. “You usually don’t say that.”

“I know, but I mean it.” Nesta said, offering a self-aware smile. “I wasn’t fair to myself.”

Liandrin looked down at her own hands, unsure what to do with the warmth spreading in her chest. She’d spent so long lecturing Nesta over this exact thing, forgetting to eat, pushing herself past reason, brushing off her own needs like they were beneath attention. And now here she was, acknowledging it with a calm strength. “I’m proud of you.” she said quietly.

Nesta blinked, as if those words held more weight than she expected. “Really?”

“You didn’t try to hide it, or lie about it.” Liandrin murmured. “That matters more than you know.”

Nesta looked down, suddenly shy. Her fingers toyed with the blanket in her lap. “I’m trying.” she said, so softly Liandrin almost didn’t hear it. “For you, for me, for us.”

Liandrin took a breath, then stood. “Stay right here.” she said, gentler this time. “No more moving around.”

Nesta barely had time to register the command before Liandrin was moving. She quickly crossed the room toward the box she had set aside earlier on the table. Her fingers trembled as she lifted the lid. Inside, wrapped delicately in soft cloth, were honey cakes.

She held the box for a moment, staring at its contents like they might vanish. Like everything soft she dared to hold onto had always been taken from her.

Then she returned, her movements slower now. She sat at the edge of the bed again, box in hand. “I went to the bakery this morning.” she said quietly, not meeting the blue eyes. “They had just pulled these from the ovens. I thought, you’d want something sweet.”

Nesta blinked. “You did that for me?”

Liandrin’s gaze dropped, her voice was tight. “You suffered so much for me. Walking across the city for honey cakes isn’t exactly equal.”

But Nesta was already reaching for the box, her hand brushing Liandrin’s as she took it. Her breath caught, overwhelmed by the simplicity and depth of the gesture. “Lia, thank you!”

She took a bite, and her whole expression softened. The small, instinctive sigh she gave, the way her eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat as if she were truly tasting something for the first time. Her shoulders eased, her lips curling into a smile of joy that it struck Liandrin like a blow. It was so rare to see her like this. Unburdened and simply happy.

And that was when it broke her. Liandrin sat frozen, watching Nesta savor something as simple as a bite of honey cake, her expression full of delight. The guilt she had tried so hard to bury clawed its way back up. Liandrin had failed to protect the only person who made her feel like she belonged. And yet Nesta still looked at her like she was worthy of being loved.

She didn’t even feel the tear slip free until it traced silently down her cheek. Nesta didn’t notice at first, she was too busy humming in contentment through her second bite. But then she looked up and her smile faltered. “Lia?”

Liandrin turned away instinctively, brushing at her face, but it was too late. Her blue eyes shimmered, full of tears she couldn’t hide.

"Lia, what’s wrong?" Nesta asked again, her voice soft.

But Liandrin couldn’t speak, because in that moment, she wasn’t in the room anymore. She was a girl again, standing alone in the Tower corridors, younger than the others, rougher in manner, her hands always clenched tight at her sides. No one had cared to look after her. No one had ever asked if she’d eaten, if she was cold, if she was lonely. And so she had taught herself not to need anyone. Even as a grown woman, she’d never let anyone see the cracks beneath her confidence. Even when she rose through the ranks, even when she held power in her palm, she had been alone. Always alone, because it was safer that way.

Until Nesta, until this young remarkable woman, who stormed into her life and refused to be ignored. Who made her laugh, who touched her like she wasn’t a cruel Aes Sedai. Nesta saw through every sharp word and never left.

Liandrin had never known what to do with that kind of love and it scared her. But it also made her want to be better. And that was what shattered her now, because for all her power and control, she hadn’t protected her when it mattered. And yet here she was, smiling at her with crumbs on her lips, thanking her for honey cakes, as if it made up for everything. As if Liandrin wasn’t broken and hard to love.

Nesta immediately set the half-eaten cake aside and shifted, bracing herself to sit taller. Her hand reached out, cupping Liandrin’s cheek and guiding her gaze back. “Please, talk to me.” she whispered.

Liandrin’s mouth opened, but her voice cracked. “I should’ve been there.” she managed. “I shouldn’t have let this happen to you.”

“There was nothing to let, Lia.” Nesta said, gently stroking her cheek. “I chose to walk that path and you were there at the end of it.”

“I wasn’t fast enough. I should have known.”

"You were there when I needed you most. You always are.” Nesta’s voice was soft, but certain.

Liandrin let out a shuddering breath. “I just... When I saw you like that, I wanted to kill Leane, to make her suffer for every hit.”

“I know, but I’m here with you.” Nesta said, drawing her closer. “And it means everything, that you cared enough to get honey cakes just for me.”

Liandrin let out a helpless sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “I love you so much it hurts.”

“Then let it hurt but let me carry it with you.”

Liandrin closed her eyes, surrendering at last to the safety Nesta offered. And in that quiet space, wrapped in the scent of honey and skin, she leaned in, letting her forehead rest against her lover's, breathing her in like air.

#liandrin guirale #wheel of time #lanfear #liandrin guirale x reader #lanfear x reader #kate fleetwood #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin sedai

8 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 19 | The Leash of Love

Notes: Aes Sedai's drama, smut, and comfort. - around 6k words

The Tower’s grand hall was heavy with tension and whispers. Morning light streamed through the tall windows, but even the sun couldn't warm the undercurrent of unease. Something dark was stirring, whispered rumors of Sisters disappearing, of oaths broken in secret halls, though no one dared speak the words aloud.

The Sitters sat arrayed in a great circle, each Ajah's colors displayed proudly. Liandrin was among them, seated stiffly, the crimson of the Red Ajah, a bold slash against the muted grays of the stone chamber. Her dress was a striking deep red, threaded with thin black lines that coiled like subtle vines along the sleeves. The design both elegant and menacing, if one looked closely.

Her golden hair was gathered into a high, intricate twist atop her head, not a strand out of place, emphasizing the proud, severe line of her neck and jaw. Beneath the sweeping folds of her dress, she wore boots with the highest heels she owned, the soft gleam of black leather catching the light when she shifted.

Liandrin’s face was a portrait of serenity, every expression carefully schooled into stillness, but the set of her shoulders and the faint gleam in her eyes spoke volumes, as if she was ready for war if need be.

At the center of the gathering, Siuan Sanche sat upon the Amyrlin Seat, her stole marking the seven Ajahs draped regally across her shoulders. Her face was carved from stone, revealing nothing of her thoughts, arms resting lightly yet firmly on the carved arms of her throne.

Meanwhile Leane Sedai stood just behind, the Keeper’s staff in hand. Her gaze flicked often to Liandrin, narrowing slightly, as if expecting the Red to erupt into chaos at any moment. And among the Blues, Moiraine Sedai had taken her place once more, newly returned to the Tower. Though she said little, her presence was palpable, a silent endorsement that carried weight even in the charged stillness of the Hall.

At first, the conversation danced carefully around larger political concerns, murmurings of unrest in Cairhien, strange activities reported in the Borderlands. Sisters traded formal remarks about strengthening alliances, and the need for vigilance.

But beneath the formalities and diplomatic smiles, dark whispers clung to the stone walls. A couple of novices simply disappeared between lesson, Sisters who returned from missions changed, hollow-eyed and strange, wards shattered without warning.

No one dared to say the words, not openly, not in this gathering. But the fear was there and it showed in the quick glances. An ancient rot was blooming inside the Tower, and not even the Amyrlin Seat could deny it any longer. And still, no one said it aloud. The true enemy was still unspoken, hidden in careful phrases and tightened smiles. But every woman in the chamber knew that the Tower was under siege. Not from outside, but from within.

It was Serenna Sedai of the Green Ajah who changed the topic of conversation. "And yet, how can we speak of strength and vigilance, when some among us confuse their duties with personal indulgence?" She said, rising gracefully to her feet, the green fringe of her shawl shimmering.

The air sharpened immediately, snapping from muted discussion into something far more dangerous.

"You speak boldly, Sister." Alanna said coolly from the Greens, rising as well, "But you have yet to name the crime."

Serenna smiled, a thin, brittle thing that never touched her eyes. "I speak of Sister Liandrin and the girl she has entangled herself with."

Several Sisters stirred at that. A ripple of discomfort passed through the chamber.

"You’ve blurred the lines between mentor and mistress, Liandrin." Serenna continued, voice tightening. "The Tower will not tolerate such indulgence. Such possessiveness threatens the very balance we swear to uphold."

Liandrin’s fingers tapped against her knee. A barely noticeable crack in her stillness, but for those who watched closely, it was enough. Inside her chest, fear lanced through the anger. Not fear for herself, that had been burned out of her long ago, but fear for Nesta. If the Hall turned against them, if they decided Nesta needed to be punished for her own choices, they would not hesitate. They would strip her down, break her spirit, and chain her to their will. It was what the Tower always did to those it couldn't control. And Liandrin knew it, because once, they had tried to do the same to her.

She forced her fingers to still. Her face remained unreadable, the careful mask she had worn for years in the Tower. Beautiful, composed, and untouchable, but beneath her outer shell, a single thought burned, They will not take her from me.

They could strip her of titles, strip her of honor, even strip her of power and still she would not yield Nesta to them. She was the only thing that mattered to her now. Not rank, not tradition, and not the Tower’s empty approval. Only the girl, who had looked at her not with fear, but with love.

"It is corruption. Power used to bind, not to guide. How long until others follow her example, tearing the Tower into pieces over personal loyalties?" Alanna said sharply, anger flashing in her voice.

Tension crackled through the air, and when Alanna straightened in fury, Moiraine nodded with approval, a silent message of solidarity for support.

Siuan, seated upon the Amyrlin’s throne at the center of the hall, said nothing. Her silence wasn't neutrality. It was a blade held carefully in reserve, poised and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"You think yourself above the Tower?" Leane accused, her voice rising an octave, shrill against the stone walls.

Liandrin rose then, unfolding from her chair like a predator stalking forward into the open. Every motion was precise, controlled, the movement of a woman who knew exactly how dangerous she had become.

"No, I simply speak as someone who was the only one to keep her safe." Liandrin said.

Her eyes, glacial and furious swept the circle of Sitters, daring them to meet her gaze. "When others treated her like a weapon to be hidden away. When others would have gladly broken her because she didn't fit neatly into their mold, I was the only one who taught her and took care of her."

For a long heartbeat, no one breathed. Some faces turned away in shame. While others stiffened, brittle with resentment.

"You mistake your affection for authority, she is not yours to claim." Serenna snapped.

Liandrin smiled slowly. That kind of smile that promised ruin. "I will not apologize for protecting what is mine." she claimed.

A gasp broke from one of the Sisters, the circle fractured into sudden noise of accusations and protests. Sharp warnings shouted half over one another, but Liandrin heard none of it. She only turned on her heel and stalked from the hall, the sharp click of her boots echoed like a challenge through the stunned silence she left behind. But no one moved to stop her.

Her heart still beat with cold fury, but beneath the surface, a storm was brewing. The Tower's judgment was coming, she knew it. They would try to tear her down, break her apart, force her to bend. But it wasn’t just her position in the Tower she was defending. It wasn’t even the angry accusations thrown at her, but the radiant, stubborn woman who had somehow burrowed herself into her heart.

What had she just done?

She had made herself vulnerable. She had exposed a part of herself that she hadn’t even realized she was capable of.

Nesta stirred, half-asleep, the heavy scent of sweetbread and roasted meat still clinging to her senses. She hadn’t meant to doze off on Liandrin’s bed this afternoon, but the Tower was stifling after lunch.

Her breathing slowed, and when she opened her eyes, she stood on a polished marble platform, surrounded by endless ocean. The sky stretched above her in bright shades of azure, dotted with wisps of clouds that glowed faintly in the light and the air was warm against her skin. Somewhere distant, waves broke against unseen rocks with a rhythmic hum.

Nesta stood in the center of it all, the soft breeze tugging at the edges of her red dress. It floated around her like a summer breeze. Light, silky fabric draped along her body, with a daring slit that revealed her leg with every step, graceful and bold. The neckline plunged into a deep V, baring her chest and collarbones to the warm air. Thin, delicate straps rested on her shoulders, giving the dress an effortless, almost wild elegance, as if she were born to command the sea around her.

A sudden breeze stirred, tugging at the hem of Nesta’s dress, pulling her gaze to the side. She turned and there stood Lanfear. But this was not the Lanfear she had grown used to, not the cold, cutting, invincible force she had come to expect. This Lanfear wore no armor of silver or cruelty. She was dressed simply in a flowing gown the color of moonlight, her hair unbound and stirring in the salt-kissed breeze.

For a long moment, they only looked at each other.

“You dream of battlefields, but you dream of peace, too.”

Nesta swallowed, “Maybe I dream of a world that doesn’t hate what it doesn’t understand.” she said quietly.

“They always hated women like us.” Lanfear said, her gaze distant. “Women who wanted more.”

She stepped closer, and the dream shifted with her. The ocean’s hush grew louder, the marble beneath them warmed to the touch. Her presence pulled at the very fabric of the dream, bending it toward her, as always.

“I asked for everything.” she continued. “Knowledge, power, love. I wanted the world itself, and they called me unnatural for it. They smiled to my face and plotted behind my back. Even he...” her throat bobbed in a swallow, “Even he feared what I could become.”

Nesta took a small, instinctive step forward, her dress whispering around her legs.

“You wanted so much.” Nesta said, but there was no judgment in her voice, only understanding. “And they wanted you small.”

Lanfear’s hand lifted slowly, almost like she didn’t realize she was moving, fingers reaching toward Nesta’s hair. But at the last second, she pulled away. Her hand curled into a fist at her side, as if the act of reaching had cost her something unbearable.

“You think I want to use you, Nesta? You’re wrong.” Lanfear said, bitter and soft at once. “I want to keep you. And that is far more dangerous.”

Nesta’s heart twisted painfully, her defenses crumbling like sand. "You don't know what you want, Lanfear."

“You’d kneel for her, wouldn’t you?” The Forsaken stated, and there was no mockery in it now, only jealousy so sharp Nesta could almost feel the wound it left behind. “You’d give her everything. Yet I offer you eternity, and still, you hesitate.”

"I can't give you what you want." She answered firmly, though her heart twisted. "I’m hers and I will never betray that." Nesta paused, then added quietly, "But I feel your pain."

For a heartbeat, Lanfear simply watched the girl, her expression tinged with sadness, as if something inside her was quietly breaking. The air shifted, and with a subtle movement of her hand, she seemed to dissolve into the dream itself, her edges softening like the last wisps of a fading storm. In a voice so soft the wind nearly stole it away, she murmured, “She doesn’t deserve you.”

The pain in Lanfear’s voice was something Nesta hadn’t expected. She stood frozen, heart pounding in her chest, unable to look away as Lanfear was slowly fading away. She felt torn, as if caught between two worlds, two desires. But her loyalty to Liandrin remained unshaken, no matter how vulnerable Lanfear seemed in that moment.

The look in the Forsaken’s eyes, as she faded into the dream, was not the look of a conqueror, or a monster. It was the look of a woman who had once loved too much, and had been broken for it.

The afternoon sunlight poured through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the well-kept garden. The scent of blooming flowers lingered in the air, and the soft murmur of the fountain added to the serenity of the place.

As Nesta passed near the hedges, she caught the faint rustle of voices, two Aes Sedai standing just a little ahead. They thought she didn’t hear, or perhaps they wanted her to.

“Did you hear what Liandrin said? That girl is hers. Hers. In front of the Sitters, no less.” The first voice was full of surprise.

Nesta paused, curiosity stirring within her. She kept her distance, hiding just out of view as she listened, her heart oddly calm.

“I always thought the rumors were exaggerated, but Light, she didn’t even deny it.” the second Aes Sedai replied.

Nesta stood frozen, her breath catching. She felt no anger, no embarrassment at being the subject of their whispers. Only a strange mix of love for Liandrin, and a flicker of fear for what such a bold declaration might mean. The world was watching, and Liandrin had chosen to make her claim public. It could be a sign of her confidence, but it could also draw unwanted attention.

She lingered for a moment longer before quietly stepping away, unsure of what to make of the whispered words that still echoed in her mind.

The door to Liandrin’s chambers creaked as Nesta pushed it open, the faint scent of ink and parchment greeting her as she stepped inside. The room was dim, the light from the narrow windows casting shadows on the walls. Liandrin sat at her desk, the faint rustle of parchment the only sound as she leafed through something, her brow furrowed in concentration.

Nesta paused at the door, watching the way the candlelight flickered against the sharp angles of Liandrin’s face, highlighting the calm intensity that seemed to be present in her. She was perfectly still, absorbed in her task.

But as soon as the door closed behind her, Liandrin’s head lifted, her piercing gaze meeting Nesta’s. “You’re late.” she said, her voice cool, though the edge of amusement was there. She set the papers down on the desk with a slow motion, then folded her hands neatly in front of her.

Nesta took a step forward, her emotions already rising from the conversation she’d heard in the garden. She could feel the weight of the rumors still hanging in the air, the whispers that seemed to follow her every step, yet here was Liandrin, cool and composed as if nothing had happened. As if the whole Tower hadn’t erupted in speculation because of her actions.

“You want the Hall to throw you out?” Nesta’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air. “Or maybe you’re just hoping to piss off every Sister in the Tower at once?”

Liandrin didn’t flinch, her posture remaining unchanged. She simply looked at Nesta, her eyes bright and steady, like she was waiting for something more. “You heard." she said, her voice a low, unflinching acknowledgment.

Nesta couldn’t hold back the bitter laugh that slipped from her lips. She started pacing the room, every step a release of the emotions that were too chaotic to contain. “Oh, I heard. Everyone has. The whole Tower practically turned into a betting ring about whether I’d show up with a leash next.” She chuckled darkly, the sound devoid of humor. "You claimed me publicly. Aes Sedai don’t claim anyone.”

Liandrin’s expression remained calm, her eyes narrowing slightly, but there was no trace of apology. She rose slowly from her chair, every movement measured, as if to emphasize the difference between her coolness and Nesta’s visible agitation.

“I won’t apologize for loving you.” She walked toward Nesta with confidence. “Let them choke on their rules.”

Nesta stopped in her tracks, the breath catching in her chest as she turned to face her fully. “You’re something else.” She said, half-laughing, but there was no humor in it, only frustration. “Sharp cheeks and declarations like a woman straight out of a romance story. No wonder they think you’ve got me leashed.”

Liandrin smirked, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she moved closer. “Do you want to be?” she whispered, voice rough and possessive. “Because you only need to ask.”

Nesta tilted her chin up, a spark of mischief flickering in her eyes even as her pulse drummed wild in her veins. "Try me." she said, voice almost mocking, daring, as if she wasn't already halfway undone just by the way Liandrin was looking at her.

The Aes Sedai said nothing. She merely smiled and turned away without hurry, as if she had all the time in the world.

Nesta heard the soft whisper of a drawer opening and when Liandrin turned back, leather coiled in her fingers. The black collar gleamed and a single silver ring adorned the front. The leash trailed from it, glinting like a line between hunter and prey.

"Strip, Lioness." Liandrin commanded.

Nesta’s hands moved before she could think. Piece by piece, she shed her clothing, letting it fall silently to the floor, until she stood bared to Liandrin's eyes, proud and unashamed.

Liandrin drank in the sight of her, her blue eyes darkening with fire. "Now kneel."

With a slow motion, Nesta sank to her knees before her. The carpet was soft beneath her, the air cool against her flushed skin. She knelt proud and unbowed, her hands resting lightly on her thighs, her head held high. There was no shame in her, only choice and desire

The woman's gaze burned into her. She moved closer, so close that the heat of her body wrapped around Nesta like a cloak. "Good girl." she said, almost a purr. Her fingers brushed Nesta’s jaw, tilting her face up.

Like a predator, she moved around Nesta, circling the girl, like savoring its prize. The leash, still slack in her hand, trailed deliberately over Nesta’s bare shoulders, across her back, making her shiver at the teasing weight of it.

"You kneel so beautifully." Liandrin murmured from behind. "Not because I forced you but because you belong to me." The soft leather brushed the nape of Nesta’s neck.

The collar closed around her throat with a muted click of the silver buckle. Tight, but not cruel. The pressure of it settled heavily on Nesta's skin. And Liandrin stood before her again, holding the leash loosely between two fingers, letting it swing lazily back and forth, brushing Nesta’s chest in hypnotic arcs.

"You feel it, don’t you?" She whispered. "This pull between us is unbreakable."

Liandrin gave the leash a small tug, just enough to tilt Nesta’s chin up higher, forcing her blue eyes to meet Liandrin’s. "So proud. So mine." she crooned, possessive heat flashing in her own eyes.

Another tug, firmer this time, forced Nesta to rise from her knees, stumbling into Liandrin’s arms. The woman caught her, the leash coiling around her wrist like a binding promise.

"You’ll take everything I give you, won’t you?" Liandrin murmured against her ear, letting the leash wind tighter, wrapping once, twice, around her fist.

She pulled Nesta forward by it, forcing her to walk the short distance to the desk. When they reached it, Liandrin kept the leash taut, ordering Nesta in place. "Hands flat."

Nesta obeyed, heart pounding as her palms met the cool wood. The leather around her throat creaked faintly as Liandrin tugged again, forcing her to bend lower.

She leaned over her, hot breath against Nesta’s ear. "You're going to stay exactly where I put you." she whispered.

She slid one hand between Nesta’s thighs, teasing slow strokes along her inner legs, while the leash stayed taut in her other hand, a constant reminder of who controlled the girl’s body now.

Nesta’s back arched as Liandrin’s chest pressed firmly against her, the hard edge of the desk digging into her hips. The leash attached to her collar pulled taut, forcing her head back, exposing the pale column of her throat.

Liandrin’s breath was hot against her ear, a mocking hum of satisfaction as her fingers circled, teasing, before finally pushing inside. Nesta whimpered, her fingers scrambling against the polished wood. The stretch was slow, each inch claimed with ruthless precision.

“Such pretty noises.” Liandrin purred, her voice dripping with cruel amusement. Her fingers curled, dragging another choked gasp from Nesta’s lips.

The girl’s thighs trembled, her body caught between the unforgiving press of the desk and Liandrin’s relentless touch. The leash jerked again, a sharp reminder of who owned this moment. Her breath hitched as Liandrin’s pace quickened.

“You clench around me so well, pet.” she hissed, her teeth grazing the shell of Nesta’s ear. “Is this all it takes to break you? Just my fingers and a leash?”

Nesta’s vision blurred, pleasure and defiance warring as she bit back another sound, but the leash yanked once more, and this time, she couldn’t stop the broken moan that escaped. Her hips rocked back instinctively, seeking more.

Liandrin laughed, dark and victorious, and added a third finger, stretching her obscenely. “Oh, you want it rough, don’t you?” She twisted her wrist, curling her fingers deeper, and Nesta nearly sobbed as pleasure spiked through her.

She whimpered against the desk, her nails dragging faint lines over the polished wood, but the leash remained taut in Liandrin’s hand, a constant reminder that she wasn’t free to move unless Liandrin allowed it.

“Good girl.” Liandrin murmured, her voice a dark purr.

Her fingers fucked Nesta's cunt relentlessly, the stretch bordering on pain. The girl's body felt completely trapped and the leash coiled tighter around Liandrin’s wrist now, binding them together as surely as any weave of the Power.

She gave another possessive pull, forcing Nesta to arch her back, to bare herself even more. "You're mine." she said again, harsher now.

“Yours.” Nesta gasped, her voice hoarse and cracking with sweet truth.

Liandrin rewarded her with a rough, brutal thrust of her fingers, the heel of her hand grinding against the swollen clit, and Nesta cried out.

"That's my girl." Liandrin murmured, possessive and proud.

Nesta’s vision whited out as Liandrin fucked her harder, the desk creaking under their combined weight. The collar bit into her throat with every jerk of the leash, every snap of Liandrin’s hips against her. And she shattered, the orgasm tearing through her with a violence that made her legs buckle. She collapse helplessly against the desk. And still Liandrin held the leash tight, refusing to let her fall completely, keeping her bound.

Only when Nesta’s trembling body finally went limp, Liandrin eased the tension. The polished wood was cool against the girl's flushed skin. Her whole world narrowed to the frantic beat of her heart and the lingering echoes of Liandrin’s touch.

Above her, Liandrin gathered her slowly against her chest, piece by piece, lifting up with a tenderness that was no less possessive for its gentleness. A hand slid under Nesta’s chin, lifting her face. "You are so pretty now." She whispered, dragging the pads of her fingers over the jaw.

Their eyes met, Nesta’s pupils were blown wide, her gaze glassy and dazed, lips parted around shallow gasps. A breathtaking portrait of surrender and stubborn pride tangled together. While Liandrin’s eyes, in contrast, were dark and burning with a possessive affection.

Nesta sagged into her, letting herself be held, breathing in her lover's scent. The leash brushed against her bare skin as Liandrin unwound it from her wrist. The tension snapped free, but she stayed perfectly still, head bowed, throat exposed, her pride wrapped tight around her submission.

Liandrin’s hand rose, brushing aside blonde hair, fingers trailing along the line of the leather collar. Without a word, she found the buckle and unfastened it and the collar slid away. Beneath it gleamed the choker, Liandrin’s gift. "This is all you need, Lioness." A soft whisper as her thumb stroked the crimson stones.

Her other hand gently slid down Nesta’s back as she guided her toward the bed. With each step, she pulled the girl closer. As they reached the edge of it, Liandrin leaned in, her lips tracing a path across Nesta’s throat, pressing a soft kiss against the hollow where the choker clung tightly to her skin. It was a kiss of ownership, of love, a subtle claim that only deepened the connection between them.

Nesta’s breath hitched as she felt the warm press of Liandrin’s lips, and her body swayed slightly, her head falling back with a soft moan.

"I never thought I’d let anyone bend me like that." Nesta murmured, voice teasing but laced with admiration. "Especially not with a leash and a collar."

Liandrin’s lips quirked into a smile. "I think you rather enjoyed it." she replied, as she continued guiding Nesta down onto the bed.

Nesta laughed softly, her fingers curling into the sheets as she settled back. "Maybe I did, Lia." she admitted, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. She glanced up at Liandrin with a mix of curiosity and desire. "You have a way of pushing me to places I didn’t know I could go."

Liandrin’s smile only deepened, "Stay here now." she murmured. A command, but also a plea. She stepped back, her gaze heavy and possessive as she stripped herself bare. Shedding her robes piece by piece. The fabric pooled around her ankles, until she stood naked, her skin pale and powerful.

Nesta couldn’t look away. Her heart raced, a mixture of love and admiration swelling inside her. Liandrin’s body bore the faint lines of old battles, and she wore them proudly. Each scar told a story of victory or pain that she endured and overcome.

Her eyes lingered on Liandrin’s body. She saw the scars not as flaws, but as symbols of the woman’s history, her power, her beauty. It was impossible to look away from the way her muscles shifted as she moved, the soft curve of her waist leading to the strength of her legs.

Gently, Liandrin crawled onto the bed with grace of a hunter who already owned the kill. She caught Nesta by the waist, dragging her up the bed and pressing her down into the sheets.

The woman’s mouth found her shoulder first, sinking her teeth into the soft flesh with a low growl that was more possession than seduction. Nesta gasped, her hands clutching the blankets beneath her, as Liandrin bit and kissed a claiming path across her skin. Her shoulder, her throat, her breast.

"You have no idea what you do to me." Liandrin murmured

Nesta whimpered, her back arching, offering more, giving more.

"You let me have you, you kneel for me..." Liandrin continued, “And still you shine so brightly, my love."

The girl couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but clutch at Liandrin’s shoulders as her mouth moved lower, worshipping, devouring, owning every inch she touched.

"You are all mine." Liandrin said again, biting at the soft underside of Nesta’s breast.

"I love you." She gasped.

Liandrin’s teeth scraped over a peaked nipple, her tongue soothing the sting, and Nesta cried out.

Finally she slid lower, dragging her tongue along the trembling lines of Nesta’s stomach. She mouthed at the tender skin of inner thighs, nipping, kissing, marking. And Nesta sobbed brokenly, her hands fisting in the sheets, her body alight and writhing under the touch.

When the woman’s mouth finally found the slick heat between Nesta’s thighs, the first drag of her tongue shattered the last fragile pieces of the girl’s pride, leaving only need and belonging.

"Lia..." Nesta moaned, desperate and wrecked.

"Shh, Lioness." Liandrin murmured against her, the vibration making Nesta’s hips jolt.

"I’ll take care of you." she promised, before sealing her mouth over clit. Her tongue slid through the heat with deliberate slowness, as if she were savoring every inch of her.

Nesta’s breath caught, a trembling moan leaving her lips. She wanted to move, wanted to press closer, but Liandrin’s hands kept her still, holding her in place with the gentleness of a lover, but the authority of a queen. Every touch was measured, each movement calculated. Not rough, but firm, a quiet command in every stroke.

Liandrin’s mouth continued its teasing journey, never rushing, never giving too much. Just when Nesta thought she couldn’t stand it, when the hunger inside her became unbearable, Liandrin would pull back, leaving her breathless, her body aching with desire.

"Patience, pet." Liandrin whispered, the words a soft but clear order, laced with a hint of praise. "You’re mine to take. And I’ll take my time."

Nesta whimpered softly, her body arching towards her. She wanted to beg, to plead, but she bit her lip instead, the pleasure mingling with the frustration of being so close and yet denied. Liandrin’s fingers gently slid between her thighs, teasing the edge of her slickness without pressing deeper.

"You’re perfect." Liandrin murmured, her lips tracing the curve of Nesta’s hip.

Her hand moved to Nesta’s waist, grip light but firm, and she guided Nesta’s hips closer to her mouth, encouraging her to surrender to the touch. But still, she took her time. She didn’t rush, not when she could feel the tension, the need in each movement. Liandrin enjoyed the control, the slow unraveling of her lover, piece by piece.

Nesta’s breath came faster now, her chest rising and falling with the effort to hold herself together. "Please, Lia." she finally whispered, the word escaping in a shaky breath.

Liandrin smiled softly, her eyes filled with warmth that only added to the power she held over her. "I’ll take you when I want." she whispered, her voice laced with that same possessive affection.

With a soft, reverent kiss, Liandrin returned to her task, but this time she didn’t hesitate. Her tongue slid deeper, making Nesta gasp, her hips lifting into the touch instinctively. But Liandrin’s hands pressed her down gently, holding her steady.

"I told you, don’t move." She murmured against her.

Nesta’s breath hitched, her body trembling with desire, but she held still, desperate for more, to give herself entirely to Liandrin’s consuming power.

The woman’s mouth was warm and soft, moving with the rhythm of a lover who knew exactly how to tease and please without breaking. The tension inside Nesta grew, coiling tighter, but still, Liandrin didn’t relent. She was in control, and she held that control with a gentleness that felt like a vice around Nesta’s chest.

When she finally allowed her to come, the release was overwhelming. It washed over Nesta like a wave, her body shaking with pleasure that was drawn out, gentle and sweetly agonizing.

But even as Nesta collapsed back onto the bed, her body limp and exhausted, Liandrin’s hands remained steady, holding her close. Her fingers traced patterns along her skin, reminding her that she was hers. "My Lioness." She murmured, her voice still tender, but now filled with the satisfaction of having claimed every part of Nesta.

She stayed atop of her, their legs tangled together as if they were made to fit this way. Nesta leaned forward, their lips met in a searing kiss, tongues sliding together. Liandrin moaned into the girl's mouth, the sound vibrating between them as Nesta’s teeth grazed her lower lip, tugging just enough to make her gasp.

“I love you so much.” Nesta murmured against her lips, voice rough with desire. One hand slid down, fingers brushing over the curve of Liandrin’s ass before slipping between her thighs.

The older woman shuddered, her breath hitching as Nesta’s fingertips traced her slick folds, teasing but not yet giving her what she truly wanted. “Nesta, don’t tease.” she whined, hips rolling, seeking more friction.

With a slow stroke, Nesta slid two fingers inside her, relishing the way her body clenched around them, hot and tight. A broken moan spilled from Liandrin’s lips, and Nesta swallowed the sound with another deep kiss, their tongues tangling as she began to fuck her in relentless thrusts.

Liandrin’s hips rocked against her hand, chasing every movement, every delicious curl of Nesta’s fingers. The wet sounds between them only fueled the fire, and Nesta added a third finger, stretching her just enough to make her cry out. Her moans grew louder, each breathy gasp escaping her lips as pleasure coiled deep within her. Her body trembled, muscles taut with anticipation, every nerve alight with sensation.

The girl's thumb found her clit with unerring precision, rubbing firm circles. She crooked her fingers inside her, pressing against sweet, hidden spot that made Liandrin’s thighs quiver.

The pleasure was overwhelming, and Liandrin came with a sharp cry. Wave after wave of ecstasy leaving her gasping. Nesta kissed her through it, her lips soft yet demanding, swallowing every whimper that spilled from the her mouth.

Nesta’s fingers never stilled, drawing out the pleasure until the last tremors had Liandrin’s body humming with satisfaction. She held her close, their foreheads resting together as Liandrin floated back down. The air between them was thick with the scent of sweat and Liandrin’s eyelids fluttered shut. A smile curved her lips as she melted into Nesta’s embrace.

Liandrin’s head rested gently on her lover's chest, her breath slow and steady, but her fingers still played with the edge of the blanket, as if she couldn’t quite settle.

Nesta’s hand, now absent of tension, traced lazy circles across Liandrin’s back. There was something deeply comforting about the way Liandrin’s body fit perfectly against hers. “You’re quiet.” She said softly. “What’s on your mind?”

Liandrin’s fingers paused, and for a long while, she didn’t answer. Nesta could feel her lover’s breath deepen, and she knew that Liandrin was considering something she rarely shared. Finally, she spoke, her voice low, laced with a tenderness that was reserved only for moments like this.

“I was thinking about how I’ve always had to be strong.” Liandrin murmured. She turned her head to look up at Nesta. Her blue eyes were haunted, but there was a softness too. “But with you, I don’t need to be that ruthless person all the time.”

“I never saw you as ruthless.” Nesta said, her voice quiet but firm.

Liandrin smiled, but it wasn’t the usual cold smile she often wore. It was soft and a little sad. She shifted so that she was half-lying on Nesta’s chest, her face turned so that her cheek rested against the skin of collarbone. “I spent so many years believing that I had to fight alone, that no one could be trusted to stand with me.” she whispered, her hand came up, fingers brushing against Nesta’s jaw.

“And then I found you, who makes me feel safe and loved.” she continued, “Like I’m not just the woman everyone fears. Like I can be something else with you.”

“Something else? What exactly do you mean?”

Liandrin chuckled softly, her hand sliding down to rest over Nesta’s heart. “Not the monster they all think I am. But just me, just your Lia.”

“You’re not a monster.” Nesta replied, her voice steady but laced with affection. “And you don’t have to be anything but yourself when you’re with me.”

Liandrin tilted her head up, “Thank you, Nesta.”

“You’re everything I need.” Nesta’s lips softened, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss.

She could feel the tension that still coiled beneath Liandrin’s skin. She didn’t need words to understand it, because recognized it. Deep down, she had carried that same armor herself. The way Liandrin resisted soft things, as though they might turn to knives if she let her guard drop. The way strength had become a language of necessity, not choice.

But she also saw what lay beneath it all. The loneliness, the ache of someone who had learned to be feared because being understood had never felt like an option. It was a reflection of her own pain, cast in a different shade.

#liandrin guirale #wheel of time #lanfear #liandrin guirale x reader #kate fleetwood #lanfear x reader #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin sedai

8 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 18 | Held By Her Strength

Notes: They deserved a quiet moment of peace, or at least the hope of a peaceful life together... someday - around 5k words

The meadow stretched wide beneath a blue sky, stars fixed above like watchful eyes, too bright to belong to the waking world. At the center of it all, Lanfear stood alone. She was dressed in white, from her high-collared gown to the boots that peeked beneath the hem. Her hair was drawn into a loose, messy bun, strands falling across her cheeks. There was an unsettling openness to her posture.

It surrounded her with energy, a pulse that seemed to respond to her every movement. The air, thick with the scent of wildflowers, was stirring slightly despite the lack of wind. There was a delicate tension in the atmosphere, a sense of anticipation, as if the world itself was waiting for someone.

When Nesta stepped into the meadow, the dream barely rippled around her. She entered as though she belonged there. The crimson of her fitted coat cut through the night like blood drawn clean. Silver embroidery trailed along the sleeves and down the hem, curling like runes only Tel’aran’rhiod could read. Her black pants clung close, her tall boots making no sound in the grass. She carried no weapons, yet her presence was one. Her blue eyes sharp and steady beneath the gentle sway of her hair. Most of it fell free down her back, but the small knot atop her head, tight and purposeful, kept her expression clear.

Nesta stopped a few paces away, letting the silence settle before she spoke. “You’re early.” she said. Her tone was neither mocking nor deferential.

Lanfear turned slowly, a small smile forming, but her eyes never left Nesta’s. “I’m always early, it’s polite. And I like watching how you arrive.”

She stepped closer, just enough for Nesta to see the faint shimmer in her irises, silver as moonlight. “That color suits you. Power looks good on you.”

Nesta lifted her chin. “I didn’t come here to be flattered.”

“No, you came to learn and I came to teach.” Lanfear agreed.

The grass at their feet bent under the shape of her steps. The wind stirred again, not from weather, but from will. The Forsaken’s heart quickened as she observed the way Nesta moved, her presence bold even in this dream world. There was no hesitation, no doubt. Nesta's strength surged from every step, and Lanfear, despite herself, found her breath hitching slightly in awe.

“You’ve shaped this place already.” She said, casting a glance at the meadow. “You used to arrive unsure and now it bends around you.”

“I’m not afraid of it anymore.”

“Not of this...” Lanfear mused, turning to face her fully. “But there are still things you fear. Or is that why you’ve come dressed for war?”

Nesta smirked faintly. “This is control.”

“Ah, now you sound like her.” Lanfear said, the words dripping with something like delight, but also a touch of mockery. The comparison was deliberate, and the playful edge to it suggested that, for just a second, she was enjoying the way Nesta’s presence unsettled her. Perhaps there was a little more in common between Nesta and Liandrin, than Lanfear had expected.

Blue eyes flashed, the faintest of smirks tugged at the corner of her mouth as she crossed her arms, her posture defiant yet at ease. There was no sign of uncertainty, as she addressed Lanfear. Her voice rang out clear, cutting through the stillness. “You think I came to provoke you?” she asked, arching a brow, her gaze steady and unapologetic. “I came because you summoned me, and I’m here to learn. Nothing more.”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, a challenge wrapped in confidence. There was no room for weakness here, no space for games. She wasn’t here to feed Lanfear’s ego, and she certainly wasn’t about to bend to her whims.

The Forsaken shrugged, loose strands of hair falling into her face again. “Do you want to know the first thing I ever changed in this world?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Her hand lifted, and around them, the meadow began to shimmer, folding in on itself, the grass flattening, the sky darkening. Shapes rose from memory, a high tower, white stone, shattered windows catching starlight. The remnants of a dream long buried.

“I once dreamed of saving the world.” Lanfear said. “Of guiding the Pattern with my brilliance, but they all laughed at me.”

There was an aching sincerity buried beneath her calm demeanor, and for a brief moment, Nesta could see past the mask of arrogance and power that Lanfear wore so often.

For the first time, Lanfear seemed less like a goddess of the Dreamworld and more like a woman who had been hurt. Someone whose ambition had once been crushed by the very world she sought to shape. The idea that she had been mocked, belittled for her dreams, felt so human.

“Now they worship me. So I suppose it worked out.” The words came easily, as though she were trying to convince herself just as much as Nesta. She was still the great Lanfear, the one whose name sent shivers through the hearts of those who dared to oppose her.

But Nesta caught the tremor, the underlying truth in Lanfear’s voice. Something had been broken in her once. Something that would never be fully healed.

“And in the end, all that power... Did it make you happy?”

It was a question born from curiosity, but also from a place of understanding. A soft, almost reluctant empathy. Nesta had known what it was like to feel others’ mockery, to feel like an outsider, to carry the weight of expectations on her shoulders. The idea of pursuing such an immense goal and losing everything in the process, has strucked her.

“Happiness is a fleeting thing, Nesta. I didn’t need it. All I needed was power.” she answered, her voice colder now, almost dismissive.

The air around them seemed to shift again, pulling away from the shared silence, and with it, Lanfear’s earlier emotions dissipated. She stood straighter, her eyes narrowing as her commanding presence returned. “You’ve learned how to enter the Dreamworld, how to manipulate your own form. But you are still too tentative, still too unsure. That ends today.”

Her voice grew colder. “In here, there is no hesitation, no fear of the unknown. You will control this place, just as you should control your own power. No more doubt.”

Nesta’s heart thudded in her chest, a mixture of excitement and unease coursing through her veins. She had seen what the Forsaken was capable of, felt her power in their earlier interactions. But this was different. Lanfear wasn’t simply showing her what she could do, she was demanding that Nesta rise to meet her.

“Show me what you’ve learned, little flame.” she ordered, her tone not unkind, but without mercy. “Alter your surroundings, change the shape of this world.”

The woman’s fingers twitched at her sides, an instinctual urge to comply, to prove herself. Nesta closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself to feel the pulse of energy around her. The World of Dreams responded to her with all the possibilities and untamed power. She focused on the grass beneath her feet, the feeling of it against her boots. Slowly, she willed the earth to shift. The blades of grass began to curl, twisting and bending to her will, forming into intricate patterns as though a wind was shaping them. She opened her eyes to watch, and the sight was mesmerizing, as the gossamer strands of grass spiraling upward like a storm frozen in time.

Lanfear’s eyes glinted with approval, but her lips remained set in a line. “You’re capable of much more than this, Nesta.” she said, her voice a mix of praise and challenge. “This is not enough. You need to think bigger. Broader.”

Nesta’s brow furrowed in concentration, and she lifted her hands up as she began to draw on the energy around her. She focused on the sky above, pulling at the very fabric of the Dreamworld. The stars twinkled above her, but now, they began to shift, forming patterns of their own. A new constellation morphed before her eyes. It was an achievement, but not nearly as grand as Lanfear’s expectations.

“That’s better.” She acknowledged, but it wasn’t enough. “Now, manipulate something living. Make the impossible possible.”

Nesta’s breath caught. She hesitated, unsure of what to do.

Lanfear seemed to sense her doubt. She stepped closer, her eyes gleaming with something predatory, as if she were daring Nesta to fail. “You are capable of far more than mere illusions. The mind in the Dreamworld is malleable. You just have to be willing to push further than you ever have before. You’ve already seen how powerful emotions are in this place.”

With a deep breath, Nesta focused once more, this time turning her attention to the ground beneath her. She thought of a simple yet vital thing, a life. Drawing from the intense feelings that had surged through her in recent days, she used the emotions that had always been her greatest strength. Determination, anger, and the fiery protectiveness she had for those she loved.

She willed the earth to shift once more, this time creating a small, vibrant flower. Its petals shimmering with a strange light. It bloomed in an instant, its color far brighter than anything the Dreamworld had shown her before. Nesta stared at the creation, and a sense of pride swelled in her chest.

Lanfear’s expression didn’t soften, but her eyes flashed with something like approval. “Good.” she said. “Now, destroy it.”

The order came without warning, and Nesta’s pulse quickened. The confidence she had felt a moment ago began to slip, replaced by doubt. “What?” she asked, confused.

“Destroy it.” Lanfear repeated, her voice louder now. “You need to learn control, not just creation. A true master can destroy just as easily as they can build.”

Nesta hesitated, but the challenge called to her. She focused on the flower, her hands trembling slightly. The flower withered at her command, its petals curling and turning black as though it had been burned from the inside out. In moments, it was nothing more than ashes.

Lanfear watched her carefully. “Good girl.” she said. “You can control this world. But can you control yourself?”

The challenge hung in the air, thick and charged with anticipation. Nesta’s gaze hardened, determination settling into her bones. "I can." she answered, her voice steady.

The Dreamworld around them seemed to pulse with new life, as if it were responding to their conversation, to their challenge. Lanfear stepped closer, her presence commanding yet gentle, a silent reminder of the task ahead. "You’ve taken your first steps." she murmured. "But the real lesson is yet to come. Control the chaos within, and nothing will stand in your way."

And with that, the challenge had truly begun.

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the fields, the tall grass swaying gently as the breeze whispered through the land. Nesta and Liandrin rode side by side, the rhythm of the horses’ hooves beating in harmony with the wind that stirred around them.

Liandrin, effortlessly poised atop her horse, moved with an elegance that made the powerful animal beneath her seem like an extension of her own being. Her golden hair, tied in a simple yet elegant braid at the back, shimmered in the sun, the strands that escaped it fluttering in the wind. A few pieces framed her sharp, beautiful face, catching the light in a way that made her look almost untouchable, a vision of strength and grace.

Nesta, though no less strong in her own way, couldn’t help but admire the sight. The wind tugged at her own braid, which Liandrin had so carefully fashioned for her. It was tight and purposeful, but still allowed a few strands to escape and dance in the wind. Her own horse seemed to move in a similar fluidity, but she couldn’t shake the sense that, while she was still learning to master herself, Liandrin was already perfectly in tune with the world around her.

The way the older woman sat atop her horse, her back straight and her eyes sharp, told of a lifetime of control. Her movements were decisive, commanding even, and Nesta could feel the pull of admiration creeping up within her. “Lia...” Nesta said, barely above the sound of the wind. She couldn’t help but look again, the way Liandrin held herself making everything seem effortless, even when it was clear how much skill and mastery it took to be so at ease.

The Aes Sedai glanced toward her, sensing the quiet reverence in her words. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, and her eyes flickered to Nesta, catching the admiration there. “You think me impressive, don't you?” she teased lightly, though the hint of pride was impossible to miss.

Nesta chuckled softly, the sound lost to the wind. “You make it look easy.” she said, her gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary.

Liandrin, pleased with the compliment but always keeping control of the conversation, guided their horses toward a small, open area by a creek.

As they stopped, she dismounted with a graceful fluidity and Nesta followed her lead and slid from her own horse, her feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. She turned to find Liandrin watching her. The smile that curved her lips was subtle, but there was an intensity to it, a question just beneath the surface.

Liandrin’s voice was smooth, with that sharp edge that made every word feel more like a command than a question. "Now that we’re far enough from prying eyes, tell me. How was your training with Lanfear?"

“It wasn’t exactly what I expected.” Nesta began slowly, her tone thoughtful.

“In what way?” Liandrin raised an eyebrow.

Nesta hesitated, trying to find the right words. She knew Liandrin wanted details, but there was something about Lanfear that was hard to describe, even to herself. “Her lessons aren’t just about control or power. They’re about reshaping what you believe. What you think is real.”

Liandrin’s expression softened, but there was still that calculating gleam in her eyes. “Is that so?” She stepped a little closer, her voice lowering. “Tell me more. What kind of reshaping did she have in mind?”

“She showed me how to use my emotions, how to channel them. To make them my strength, not my weakness.”

Liandrin's eyes glimmered with interest, her posture never wavering. “And how did that feel?”

Nesta exhaled sharply. “Powerful, but also strange. I felt like I could be something bigger, something beyond just myself. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if it’s all too much.”

The Red Sister studied her, her sharp gaze cutting through the uncertainty in Nesta’s voice. “You doubt yourself.” she said softly.

Nesta met her eyes then, a flicker of frustration crossing her features. “I’m not doubting myself. She pushed me to the edge of what I can handle, and it just feels like if I don’t keep control, I could lose everything.”

Liandrin’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Control. That’s what you’ve always sought, isn’t it?” Her voice was soft, almost reflective. “To control your power. To control everything around you. But do you ever wonder if it’s more than that? More than just what you can keep a tight grip on?”

Nesta’s heart skipped a beat, and she looked away, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "What are you saying?"

Liandrin took a step closer, her voice dropping lower, a touch of teasing beneath her words. “What if Lanfear is right? What if the key to your power isn't restraint, but letting go? Surrendering to it, embracing it fully. Giving in, rather than fighting it.”

“You think I should just give in?” Nesta asked.

“No, I think you should learn to trust yourself.” Liandrin replied, her tone steady, though there was a fire in her eyes.

“You really think that?”

Liandrin’s smile deepened. “I think, that you’re stronger than you realize.” she said slowly, taking a final step toward Nesta, “And that strength doesn’t always come from holding on. Sometimes it comes from knowing when to let go.”

For a moment, there was silence, just the soft hum of the wind, the distant call of birds, and as Liandrin stepped forward, her hand cupping Nesta’s cheek with surprising gentleness. “You know I’m right.”

Nesta’s breath hitched, her lips parting as if to respond, but before she could form the words, Liandrin closed the space between them, pulling Nesta into a kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the feel of Liandrin’s lips, firm and commanding against her own.

She took full advantage, her tongue sweeping inside with a bold, possessive stroke, tasting her and Nesta responded instinctively, her hands moving to Liandrin’s waist, drawing her closer, feeling the heat of her body through the layers of their clothing.

Slowly, Liandrin’s hand slid from Nesta’s cheek to her hair, tugging her closer still, deepening the kiss. The movement was possessive, but there was also a tenderness to it. A desire to claim but also to connect, to show Nesta that she was not alone in this.

The air was thick with tension, and the walls seemed to vibrate with a rhythmic energy that matched the heartbeat. Liandrin stood across from Nesta, her eyes cold and unwavering as she watched her prepare for the next challenge.

“Now, focus. Weave.” Liandrin’s voice was sharp.

Nesta extended her hands, fingers trembling slightly, not from fear but from the weight of the task ahead. She closed her eyes for just a moment, summoning the threads of the Power she had learned to harness. She could feel them there, pulsing with potential, a river of energy waiting for her command.

But as soon as she began, a sudden, searing sting in her side made her gasp. It felt as though she were being pricked with hundreds of tiny needles, the sharp sensation pulling her out of the weave she had been so close to completing.

“Focus!” Liandrin snapped, her tone cutting through the noise.

With a growl of frustration, Nesta pushed through, forcing the weaves back together. She ignored the pain, focusing only on the Power that thrummed beneath her skin, seeking the elusive balance between control and chaos.

Liandrin didn’t relent. As soon as Nesta regained her footing, a new distraction arrived, a blast of cold air, sharp enough to cut through her clothes. The chill felt like ice sliding down her spine, causing her teeth to chatter and her hands to shake, but she forced herself to keep going.

“Don’t let it break you.” Liandrin’s voice rang out, her authority unwavering. “You are strong.”

The temperature might have dropped, and her skin might have been crawling with the sting of pain, but she would control the weaves. Her fingers flicked through the air, weaving with a precision that was starting to feel like muscle memory. Gradually, she regained her control.

Liandrin stood still, watching with a cool, calculating expression. With each new distraction, sudden bursts of blinding light, loud crashing sounds, flashes of pain that jolted through her like a shockwave, Nesta grew more determined. Her hands trembled less now, her movements more deliberate. The Power didn’t feel as foreign anymore. Finally, it was an extension of herself, something she could mold and shape.

The water was warm, scented faintly of lavender and cedarwood. Nesta sat between Liandrin’s legs, her back resting against her chest, while Liandrin’s fingers slowly unraveled the tight braid she’d woven earlier.

“Is this revenge?” Nesta muttered, tilting her head a bit, as Liandrin’s fingers worked through the tight braid. “You only braid my hair so tightly so I can’t focus on anything but the pain.”

Liandrin gave a low, amused hum, her lips brushing the shell of Nesta’s ear. “And here I thought you liked pain.” she purred.

“I’m not denying it.” Nesta smirked, eyes half-lidded as she leaned into the touch.

Liandrin chuckled. “No, you never do.” she said, her fingers gliding through damp strands, “That little sound you make when I pull just right...”

Nesta’s breath hitched and Liandrin immediately caught it.

“You were so obedient this morning.” She went on, voice laced with smugness. “Not a single flinch. Sat there like a perfect pretty thing, letting me do whatever I wanted.”

Nesta arched a brow, biting back a grin. “Keep talking like that and I might think you’re trying to make me blush.”

“Oh, pet, if I wanted you blushing, you would be.” Liandrin whispered.

Nesta turned her head just enough to catch the edge of Liandrin’s gaze. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are between my legs.” Liandrin said with a smug, “Letting me undo the braid I made for you.”

“You’re lucky I like your hands in my hair.”

“I know.” Liandrin said, and her fingers tugged playfully on a loosened strand. Slowly, her fingers drifted lower, sliding over the nape of Nesta’s neck, tracing a lazy path down her spine, then forward to skim her collarbone.

“You’re always so tense here.” she whispered.

Nesta laughed, but the sound faltered when Liandrin’s palm found her breast, no longer teasing but claiming. Her thumb rolled over the peak, coaxing a sharp breath from Nesta’s lips.

“Still not complaining.” Liandrin purred, her other arm sliding around Nesta’s waist, pulling her in so her back was flush against her. “I think you like when I take my time.”

Nesta tried to gather her voice, but it came out as a low murmur. “Is this how you reward me for my obedience?”

“No, Lioness.” Liandrin breathed into her ear, her teeth grazing the edge of it. “This is how I punish you for making me lose focus halfway through.” And as her hand slid lower, fingers trailing along the inside of Nesta’s thigh, her smile turned wicked.

The girl barely had time to process the words before Liandrin’s hand slid lower, fingers trailing a slow, torturous path along the inside of her thigh. The touch was teasing, just enough pressure to ask for more, to make Nesta’s muscles tense with anticipation.

Liandrin’s fingers traced higher along Nesta’s inner thigh, each brush of skin sending sparks. Nesta’s breath came quicker now, her body taut with the effort of holding still, of not arching into that maddening touch.

"You’re trembling a bit, pet." Liandrin murmured, her lips grazing the curve of Nesta’s ear. "Tell me, what do you need now?"

Nesta swallowed hard, her pulse fluttering beneath the press of Liandrin’s fingertips as they danced dangerously close to where she ached the most. "I..."

The words dissolved into a gasp as Liandrin’s other hand suddenly slid up, fingers curling around the base of Nesta’s throat in a firm, unyielding hold. The grip wasn’t cruel, but there was enough pressure to make her breath hitch, to remind her exactly who was in control.

Liandrin pulled her back harder, forcing Nesta to sink deeper against her. "No clever retort?" she purred, her thumb stroking the frantic pulse on the girl’s neck. "How unlike you."

Then, without warning her fingers finally slipped between Nesta’s thighs, gliding through slick heat with a slow, torturous drag. Nesta’s hips jerked instinctively, but Liandrin’s grip on her throat tightened just enough to still her.

"Ah, ah, you don’t move until I let you." Liandrin snapped playfully.

The woman’s fingers circled her clit, lazy and taunting, before dipping lower, teasing her entrance with just the barest pressure. Nesta’s head fell back against Liandrin’s shoulder, her breath coming in ragged bursts as those fingers finally pushed inside, filling her fully.

"My love..." Liandrin murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. "Look at you. Taking me so well."

And then she began to move. Her fingers curled inside Nesta, dragging against that sweet, aching spot with every unhurried thrust. Nesta’s nails bit into Liandrin’s thigh where her hand had flown to brace herself, her hips rocking back against each movement, desperate for more.

"That’s it." Liandrin coaxed. "Let me feel you."

Nesta’s breath hitched as Liandrin’s thumb found her clit again, circling in time with the relentless push and pull of her fingers. Pleasure coiled tight in her belly, hot and insistent, each stroke dragging her closer to the edge.

"You’re close, I can feel it" Liandrin observed, her voice a purr.

Nesta whimpered, her thighs trembling. "Lia..."

"Tell me who’s making you feel this way." Liandrin commanded, her fingers slowing just enough to be intoxicating.

Nesta’s hips jerked, chasing the friction. "You, only you!" she gasped.

"Good girl." And then Liandrin’s fingers drove into her harder, faster, her thumb working tight circles over Nesta’s clit until pleasure shattered through her. She cried out, her back arching, her body clamping down around Liandrin’s fingers as she rode out the orgasm with shuddering gasps.

Liandrin held her through it, her grip unrelenting, her lips pressed to the damp skin of Nesta’s shoulder as she murmured praise into her skin. "Beautiful, my love." she breathed, finally slowing her movements as Nesta’s trembling subsided.

She slumped back against her, boneless and spent, her chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. Liandrin pressed a kiss to her neck, her fingers still lazily tracing idle patterns between her thighs, as if she couldn’t bear to pull away just yet.

“You’re rather eager for someone who pretends to be in control.” Liandrin teased, her tone light but affectionate, a playful edge to it as her thumb stroked the sensitive skin.

Nesta gave a quiet, breathless chuckle, but she tilted her head back, allowing her cheek to rest against Liandrin’s shoulder. “And you’re insufferable for someone who likes to think she’s in charge.”

Liandrin smirked, her fingers tightening just enough to remind Nesta who held the reins in their dynamic. “Oh, I know I’m insufferable, but one of us should be.”

Nesta shifted, turning around so that she was facing Liandrin. The movement was fluid, but there was a hint of defiance in her eyes as she locked gazes with the older woman. Liandrin raised a brow, her lips curling into a smirk.

Before she could speak, Liandrin’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and a soft splash of water erupted between them. In one smooth motion, Liandrin grasped both of Nesta’s wrists, pulling her closer until their bodies were nearly flush, the heat of Liandrin’s form unmistakable against her own.

Nesta’s breath quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears as she felt the woman’s warm breath against her skin. Liandrin’s arm slid around her body, and before she could react, fingers tangled in her hair, holding her firmly in place. The action was possessive, commanding, but there was an unmistakable tenderness in it, like Liandrin knew how to balance the sharp edge of control with a touch of care.

Her lips curled into a wicked grin. “I love when you try to fight me, even when you know how it’s going to end.” Liandrin purred, her voice thick with amusement and the undeniable satisfaction of knowing she had Nesta exactly where she wanted her.

“I don’t fight you.” she muttered, her voice a little breathless as the weight of Liandrin’s touch continued to make her feel both held and restrained. “I’m just testing the limits.” Nesta’s lips curled into a smirk.

Liandrin’s grin widened, her grip on Nesta’s hair tightening slightly as she leaned in just a fraction more. “Testing?” She let the word linger, her voice low and teasing. “You know the limits, Nesta. You’ve known them for a while.”

The girl's pulse thundered in her ears and she leaned forward, eager to close the distance between them. But before she could, Liandrin’s grip on her hair tightened, holding her in place, just out of reach.

"If you want something, you need to ask for it." Liandrin purred, her fingers were knotted tightly in blonde hair.

"Lia..." The name came out as a moan, half frustration, half plea.

"Mm, was that supposed to be a request?" Liandrin’s lips curved.

Nesta’s restraint snapped. "Stop being such a tease."

Liandrin’s smile deepened, and the light in her eyes was like fire. “Try again, pet.”

"Stop being such a tease, please." Nesta’s words were softer this time, a breathless surrender slipping through. There was honesty in her plea, a desire for connection that she couldn’t hold back any longer.

Liandrin’s laugh was soft. She was enjoying this dance of power and passion, of control and surrender. And finally, with that laugh, she released her grip on Nesta's hair.

Nesta didn’t hesitate, she surged forward, crashing their mouths together in a kiss that was all teeth and hunger, her hands gripping Liandrin’s shoulders. She poured every ounce of frustration into it, every bit of pent-up desire.

But Liandrin was ready for her, the moment Nesta thought she had the upper hand, Liandrin’s tongue slid against hers, stealing the breath from her lungs. One hand tangled back into Nesta’s hair, not to pull her away this time, but to angle her, to deepen the kiss. When the other traced down her spine, nails dragging just enough to make her arch into the touch.

Nesta tried to push forward, to dominate the kiss, but Liandrin met every movement with one of her own, each one sharper, hungrier, until Nesta was the one gasping and trembling under the weight of Liandrin’s control.

When they finally broke apart, Nesta’s lips were swollen, her chest heaving. Liandrin’s smirk was nothing short of triumphant.

"Good, but next time I’ll make you beg for it." She murmured, her thumb brushing the girl's lower lip.

Nesta smiled back, a soft curve of her lips. As much as Liandrin liked to tease, she had come to enjoy the game, the challenge, the pull, the shared power that they had.

With a soft chuckle, Nesta leaned back, resting her head against Liandrin’s shoulder, her body warm and at ease despite the lingering intensity. She felt safe there, nestled against her lover.

“What if...” Liandrin said suddenly, as if the thought had been waiting just below her tongue, “What if, we didn’t have to be part of the Tower anymore?”

Nesta blinked, momentarily thrown off guard. The idea seemed almost foreign, like a dream not meant for women like them. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice thick with curiosity.

“I mean no politics, no tests, no orders. Just a little house somewhere quiet.” Liandrin said, lips brushing the top of Nesta’s damp hair. “I’d spend my mornings reading and you could lay by my side, your head on my shoulder. We’d only answer to each other.”

The words settled into the space between them, and Nesta couldn’t help but smile, a strange warmth unfurling in her chest at the thought. It was so different from everything they knew. This was simplicity, peace. A life neither of them had ever known.

“And who cooks?” She asked, her tone playful, the faintest glint of challenge in her eyes.

Liandrin’s lips curved into a smug smile as she gently tugged at the strands of Nesta’s hair. “You do, obviously.”

Nesta scoffed, her laugh light and free. “I’d burn it all,” she teased.

“Then I suppose we’d live off bread and wine.” Liandrin whispered.

There was something so absurd, yet strangely tender about it, something about imagining a life where they were free from the burden of everything else. No obligations, no expectations. Just them. It was a fleeting thought, but it made Nesta’s heart ache in a way she hadn’t expected. She hummed softly, a wistful smile on her lips as she relaxed into Liandrin’s embrace.

“Maybe we’d be happy there.” She murmured, the words barely more than a thought. But it felt like a dream shared in secret.

Liandrin let out a soft breath, her gaze distant for a moment, as if she were imagining the life they could have. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, quieter, as though revealing something she’d rarely allowed herself to consider. “We might be.”

The fantasy of this idea lingered between them, a kind of peaceful silence that felt right. Liandrin pulled Nesta closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“As long as you’re with me, I’m happy.” Nesta murmured, her voice full of sincerity. Her fingers traced patterns on Liandrin’s arm, a slow, comforting rhythm that matched the calmness of the moment.

#liandrin guirale x reader #lanfear x reader #liandrin sedai #lanfear #wheel of time #kate fleetwood #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin guirale

15 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 2 months ago

Text

81 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 17 | Reckless Thing

Notes: “I care if you live, not just survive.” - around 5k words

Tall, ancient trees stretched toward a sky that flickered between violet dusk and starless void. Leaves glowed softly, casting a silvery glow across the clearing, while the forest floor pulsed underfoot, alive and listening. Nesta stood in the center of it all, breath shallow, heart pounding from fury. Her long dress, black velvet threaded with silver like constellations stitched by moonlight billowed around her in an unnatural wind, untouched by the world’s quiet calm.

The forest held its breath as she screamed. “Lanfear!”

Her voice cracked the stillness like thunder. The leaves trembled, glowing brighter for a heartbeat before dimming again. A pulse of power rippled outward from her, and with it, the forest reacted. Trees groaning as if in pain or awe, silver dust rising from the roots like breath.

“Show yourself, coward!” Nesta shouted again, her voice carrying through the dreamscape like a storm rolling over the land.

The Power stirred within her, furious and barely held in check. Silver flames flickered in her eyes, lighting up her face with a terrifying glow. For a moment, the earth beneath her boots cracked, tiny veins of light threading outward, as if the dream was reshaping itself in answer to her call.

Her voice softened to a growl. “I know you’re watching.”

From between the trees, Lanfear stepped into the clearing gracefully. Her long, fitted dress was as dark as obsidian, and her boots, sleek and razor-sharp at the toe made no sound against the glowing forest floor. Hair, black as night, fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her expression was a picture of calm.

Nesta’s breath slowed as their eyes locked.

“You’ve been screaming my name like a prayer.” Lanfear said with cold amusement. “Was it longing that summoned me, or wrath?”

The silver flame in Nesta’s eyes blazed brighter and without a word, she moved.

She didn’t lunge like a woman chasing revenge, she struck like a storm. A torrent of fire exploded from her hands, screaming through the air like a comet. Lanfear barely blinked as she vanished in a ripple of shadow and reappeared to the side, arms folded.

“Angry little thing.” she murmured. “Did I touch something that belongs to you?”

Nesta didn’t answer. Wind surged around her, trees snapping at their trunks as a cyclone spiraled from her outstretched arms. Lanfear braced herself, her smirk faltering as she weaved a counter-barrier of Spirit and Air, but only to be flung backward by a second blast of searing fire.

She hit the tree hard. The bark cracked beneath her spine with a sickening crunch, and the force of it sent a cascade of splintered wood and leaves raining down around her like dying stars. Her body arched against the tree, but she only laughed, a breathless, sharp sound torn from somewhere between pain and pleasure.

For a breath, she remained there, one arm braced against the bark, her dark hair disheveled and half-veiling her face. Her gown was torn along the thigh, exposing a long line of pale, powerful muscle. Power still shimmered around her skin, like moonlight. When she finally pushed off the trunk, it was with deliberate grace, like a predator standing tall after being struck, but never bested.

She rolled her neck with a satisfying crack, silver eyes blazing. “That temper...” she purred, her voice husky, mouth curling into a grin that was all teeth and challenge. “Glorious.”

Again, the Power slammed into her in relentless waves, blasts of fire, shards of earth ripping from the ground, lashes of wind sharp as blades. Lanfear deflected most, absorbed others. But Nesta’s rage didn’t fade. It only grew, until the very ground cracked beneath her feet and roots tore free of the soil, twisting and burning under her command.

Another blast sent Lanfear flying. The force of it tore through the clearing like a storm unleashed, and her body was flung backward, silver and smoke twisting through the air in a blur of chaos. She hit the ground with a crack of impact. But she rose again. Not with grace this time, but with hunger, like a creature made of fire and want.

She came to a crouch, low and prowling, one hand pressed into the earth. Nesta’s wild power, laced with the heat of her anger has thrilled her. She licked a smear of blood from her bottom lip, her grin widening into something feral. “You have no idea, how irresistible you are like this” her voice thick with wonder.

Nesta's silver eyes gleaming with a wild intensity that cut through the forest like a flash of lightning. Her breath was shallow, teeth gritted, and with every move, her power surged, darker and more untamed.

This was the part of herself she’d buried for so long. The rage, the wildness, the part that had been both nurtured and suppressed, honed into something sharp. And now, it was free, alive, carving a path of destruction. It was a power she didn’t know she could control, but right now, she didn’t care.

She advanced on the Forsaken, the flame of her eyes burning bright, hungry for the battle. For the release, for victory. But then, in the blink of an eye, everything shifted. The air around them grew thick, heavy with an ancient, electric tension. For a heartbeat, Nesta’s vision flickered, a wisp of movement too fast for her to track. And then nothing.

There was no one in front of her. For a split second, panic flickered in her chest, but then, in the blink of an eye, Lanfear was right behind her.

The explosion was instant. A pulse of force hit Nesta’s back, lifting her off the ground and slamming her down on her stomach violently. Before she could react, Lanfear’s boot came down hard between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the forest floor.

She let out a furious, strangled growl, her body twisting, muscles straining as she fought against the heavy pressure holding her down. She could feel every part of her body scream in defiance. Her hands clawed at the earth, fingers digging into the dirt, trying to find purchase, but it was as if the very air itself had conspired against her.

Lanfear’s boot, unyielding, pressed even harder down. It was a calculated brutal move. She wasn’t crushing Nesta, not entirely. She was simply holding her in place, forcing her to acknowledge her power, to acknowledge her.

Nesta could feel the heat of Lanfear’s energy radiating from her, the overwhelming presence of the woman above her. Every inch of Lanfear’s power bled into the moment, and she could do nothing but struggle beneath her.

Lanfear stood over her like a queen atop her conquest, unbothered by the roughness of the fight or the mess it left behind. Her boot on Nesta’s back was a silent declaration of domination, an assertion of control that reverberated through the air. Her heel digging on the spine, while Nesta’s struggles only intensified the feeling of restraint. Lanfear didn’t flinch. She was unshakable.

“This wasn’t what I wanted.” she hissed, almost to herself. “But you always choose action over words.”

Lanfear leaned down slowly, as if savoring every second of the control she now held over Nesta. Her heart beat faster, not from exertion, but from the thrill of feeling the girl’s fierce resistance, her fire, challenging her own strength.

“Stop fighting me, Nesta. I didn’t come here to hurt you.” her voice brushed against Nesta’s ear as she leaned down.

Lanfear’s curled around Nesta’s neck, fingers brushing lightly at first, before tightening just enough to create an unyielding grip. The pressure was enough to hold her in place but not to crush.

She wasn’t trying to hurt her. What she wanted was something far more dangerous. She wanted to feel the pulse of Nesta’s power beneath her fingers, to feel her body tremble with the need to fight back, yet held completely helpless in her grasp. It was intoxicating.

Lanfear reveled in the sensation of the woman beneath her, her heart racing with a mix of awe and desire. There was a part of her, a darker side, that reveled in the knowledge that Nesta, in all her strength, was nothing compared to her own presence. She was daring, yes, but right now, she was defeated. And Lanfear loved it.

As she felt Nesta’s body still slightly beneath her, Lanfear allowed her hand to tighten just a fraction more around the girl’s neck. Not enough to choke, but enough to reinforce the unspoken message, I’m in control. Every breath Nesta took, every beat of her pulse beneath her skin, was a reminder that she could bend this stubborn woman to her will.

"Nesta, enough." Lanfear breathed, her voice trembling at the edges. Her lips brushed close to girl’s ear, her arm still firm around her throat. "You’ve made your point. Please just calm yourself. I came to talk.”

Nesta snarled, power still coiling beneath her skin like a whip ready to lash. But her limbs had slowed, her pulse thudding like war drums in her ears.

Lanfear exhaled slowly, her breath warm against the nape of Nesta’s neck. Her chest pressed briefly into Nesta’s back and with a measured calm, she loosened her arm, releasing Nesta from the chokehold, her fingers trailing down as if reluctant to let go of her entirely.

The girl twisted, scrambling halfway upright, but stayed low, braced on her palms. Her body trembled from adrenaline and power and fury.

The Forsaken didn’t rise. She lowered herself instead, kneeling gracefully, like a queen laying aside her crown. Her posture was unyielding but calm, every line of her body thrumming with the power she still held in check. Not as a supplicant, but as a storm choosing stillness, only for Nesta.

“You want to burn the world down right now, don’t you?” Lanfear said softly. “But listen to me before you lose what little control you have left.”

Nesta's chest heaved, muscles tight with rage and restraint. She hated that the adrenaline in her blood still hummed like a storm waiting to break and that a part of her, a small part, wanted to hear what Lanfear would say.

“You think I want to hear your voice?” she snarled. “You haunt my dreams like a curse. I can barely breathe some nights because of you.”

“And yet here you are.” Lanfear tilted her head, the corners of her lips curving ever so slightly.

Nesta’s eyes narrowed, her body still trembling with restrained fury. “You think I came here for you?”

Lanfear’s smile faltered. The gleam in her eyes dimmed, not extinguished, but changed. Not anger. Not even jealousy. A deeper ache flickered there.

“I came because you started showing up in her dreams.” Nesta's voice cracked like thunder.

“She means that much to you.” Lanfear said quietly, more to herself than to Nesta.

“Stay away from her.” she spat the words, like venom on her tongue. “If I see a single shadow of you cross her mind again...”

Lanfear held up a hand. “I’ll stop.” she said softly.

Nesta blinked, her whole body still thrumming with rage and distrust.

“I’ll leave her alone.” Lanfear continued, her voice steady, almost gentle. “I’ll vanish from her dreams. You have my word.”

The sincerity in her tone made Nesta flinch more than any threat might have. Suspicion hardened her features. “What’s the price?” she demanded.

Lanfear’s answer came like a pulse of inevitability. “You.”

“Excuse me?” Nesta recoiled, revulsion and shock flashing across her face.

Lanfear didn’t move. Her expression didn’t shift. “You give yourself willingly to my guidness.” she said with a wicked smile. “No more hiding from what you are. No more lashing out like a wild thing barely clinging to control.”

Nesta’s chest heaved with each breath.

“You let me teach you and in return, I stay out of Liandrin’s dreams.” she continued, “I will not touch her again. She’ll sleep soundly from this night forward.”

But how it burned her to say it. Inside, the jealous fire twisted like a serpent. The very idea of Liandrin’s name on Nesta’s lips, the way Nesta’s face had changed when she spoke of her. Part of her longed to return to those dreams, to peel Liandrin apart from the inside, humiliate her, shatter her pride until she was nothing more than a broken reflection of Nesta’s loyalty. To ruin her, just because Nesta cared.

Slowly Nesta pushed herself to her feet. The movement was rigid, muscles taut with the effort to not lash out.

Lanfear remained kneeling, head tilted back now to meet her gaze. Her eyes followed Nesta with a hunger she didn’t bother hiding.

Nesta stood over her, wild and shaken. “You’ll stop?” she asked.

Lanfear’s head inclined once. “I swear it.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” she ground out.

Finally, Lanfear rose, regally, standing before Nesta once again. Almost eye to eye, though not quite. “You just made the most important choice of your life.”

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she stepped forward, her hand reaching for Nesta’s. The moment their skin brushed, a shock of power coursed through the girl, a jolt that both burned and electrified.

Lanfear’s fingers closed around her hand, firm, confident, but there was a softness to the way her grip tightened.

Nesta’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away.

The Forsaken leaned in, “I see what you could become with my help.” Lanfear said, voice low and rich. “You’re extraordinary.”

Nesta let out a breath, her blue eyes narrowing with a mix of defiance and irony. “Extraordinary? Funny, I’ve always been told I was trouble.” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Lanfear straightened, taking a half-step back, her gaze piercing through Nesta. “But there is so much more that you don’t understand. So much more that I could teach you. Your power is a wild thing, untamed. It could destroy you if you don’t learn how to wield it.”

Nesta blinked, her gaze searching Lanfear’s face for any sign of a lie. “What are you talking about?”

“You fight like that for her, don’t you? The simple thought about her gives you so much strength, power. But you need to understand, that you’re at the crossroads.” Lanfear’s voice softened, almost tender, but still held the sharpness of truth.

Nesta’s body stiffened, the shift in her posture was immediate.

“She’s in danger and not just from me.” Lanfear added.

“What are you talking about?” Nesta asked, there was a sense of urgency in her tone now. An undeniable desire to protect what was hers.

Lanfear's lips curled into a smile. “The Tower is rotting from within.” she murmured. “Even your precious Liandrin drinks from the same well, whether she admits it or not.”

Nesta’s expression hardened, with a flash of anger. “What do you mean?” her voice tinged with disbelief and fury.

Lanfear’s gaze never wavered, her tone almost playful now. “You’re smart, Nesta. You’ll figure it out on your own.”

The girl held her ground, still seething with a mix of defiance and curiosity, the air between them crackling with tension.

“We’ll meet again, when you sleep.” Lanfear said, her voice smooth and confident, as though she had already claimed their next encounter. “That’s when we’ll begin your training.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’ll be sure to make it interesting for you. Wouldn’t want you to get bored.”

Lanfear’s smile widened as she took a step back, her eyes glinting with dark amusement. “Be at your best behavior.” she teased, voice light but dripping with an unspoken promise. “I wouldn’t want to have to punish you for being misbehaving.”

Nesta scoffed, her lips curling into a mocking smile. "I’d like to see you try."

The Forsaken’s eyes flashed, but Nesta wasn’t intimidated. If anything, the challenge in Lanfear’s tone only fueled her fire.

“Until then.” Lanfear whispered, and with a flick of her fingers, she vanished into the shadows.

Nesta stood in the quiet aftermath. “I’ll be waiting.” she muttered to herself, though she wasn’t sure if it was a promise or a warning.

The morning sun painted the White Tower’s walls in gentle gold, softening even the harshest corners of Liandrin’s balcony. A delicate breeze stirred the long crimson curtains framing the open arch, letting in the scent of distant jasmine and the quiet murmurs of Tower life below.

Nesta sat curled into one of the cushioned chairs, her legs tucked beneath her, fingers wrapped around a warm cup of tea. Her blonde hair was down for once, slightly tousled by sleep, and a crimson robe draped over her shoulders, borrowed, undoubtedly, from Liandrin. Across from her, Liandrin leaned against the rail, arms crossed over a dark robe of her own.

It was a strangely domestic moment between them. Peaceful. Safe. But the weight of last night hadn’t faded. Nesta watched the steam rise from her tea before speaking, quiet but firm.

“It was Lanfear, the Forsaken.” she said. “She’s the one who’s been in your and my nightmares.”

Liandrin’s head didn’t turn right away, but her fingers, resting on the balcony ledge, twitched. Subtle, almost imperceptible, but Nesta saw it.

“I figured.” she said at last. Her voice was calm, measured, but Nesta had learned to hear the tightness just beneath the surface. “She’s not exactly subtle.”

Nesta shifted, setting the cup down with a soft clink. “She’s been pulling me into Tel’aran’rhiod. But I didn’t go to her willingly. Not until last night.”

That made Liandrin still. “Explain it.”

Nesta stood up, walking over to the railing, standing beside her now. She looked down rather than into Liandrin’s face. “She offered me a deal. Said if I agreed to let her train me, to accept her help, she’d leave you alone.”

Liandrin’s silence was louder than any outburst.

“I accepted.”

The Aes Sedai turned toward her fully. Her posture remained composed, but Nesta saw the worry beneath that carefully practiced stillness. Her eyes, so often sharp and unyielding, flickered with fear. The fear of losing, not power or control, but Nesta herself.

And perhaps that’s what made it more terrifying to Liandrin than anything else. She’d spent years ensuring no one could hold her heart in their hands. Years building walls so high no affection, no softness, could slip through. But Nesta had slipped past through all of them. And now, the thought of someone like Lanfear laying claim to her, pulling her away into shadows Liandrin couldn’t reach, had hollowed her. The protectiveness rising in her wasn’t just instinct. It was desperation sharpened by rage.

Nesta noticed how Liandrin’s knuckles had gone white from how tightly she held her arms. She wasn’t calm. She was holding herself still by force, as if even the smallest gesture might shatter her restraint.

“You made a deal with the most dangerous Forsaken for me?” The older woman’s voice had dropped low, but the emotion in it trembled.

“Yes.” Nesta said without hesitation.

Liandrin reached out, brushing her fingers over the sleeve of Nesta’s robe. Her touch was gentle, but Nesta felt the tension humming beneath it.

“I burned you yesterday, and you still...” Liandrin whispered.

“I don’t care about the burn.” Nesta interrupted. Her hand closed over Liandrin’s. “I care that you were suffering and I couldn’t stop it.”

Liandrin stared at her like she was seeing her for the first time and didn’t know whether to pull her into an embrace or scream at the world for letting Lanfear ever get near her. She didn’t speak, but then, in a rare gesture, she pulled Nesta’s hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You should’ve told me sooner.”

Nesta’s lips curved. “I was trying to protect you.”

“And what if she turns you into something I can’t recognize?”

“She won’t. I’m not doing this for her. I’m doing it for you. My loyalty is yours. Only yours.” Nesta said, voice steady.

Liandrin didn’t answer with words this time. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around Nesta’s waist, and held her close. The wind picked up around them, cool against their skin, but neither moved.

After a moment, Nesta smirked against her shoulder. “Also, she said, she’d start training me when I fall asleep again. So, guess you’ll have to keep me up all night.”

Liandrin snorted softly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yours.” Nesta replied.

Nesta sat alone in a sun-warmed alcove near one of the tall arched windows, the afternoon light pouring in gold and hazy across the pages of the thick leather-bound book open in her lap. Dust motes danced lazily in the air, glowing like tiny embers, but Nesta barely noticed. Her eyes were fixed on the same paragraph she had read three times now, but the words swam uselessly on the page, forgotten as soon as they were seen. Her attention was elsewhere.

The voices were faint, but not faint enough to miss. They drifted through the narrow spaces between rows of towering bookshelves, carried on cautious breaths and the creak of the ancient floorboards. “She’s gone. Just like that.” one Accepted whispered, her voice tight with unease, almost swallowed by the queitness of the library.

Nesta didn’t look up, but every muscle in her body tensed. Her thumb stopped its idle movement against the edge of the page.

“They’re calling it an accident.” another voice murmured quickly, nervously, “But we all know better. That’s the second one this year.”

The faint rustling of a robe, a hurried glance around to make sure no Aes Sedai was lurking behind the shelves. Then, almost too soft to be heard, “The Black Ajah.”

Nesta’s spine went rigid, the words slicing through her like ice. Her breath caught in her throat. The warmth of the sun no longer touched her skin. No one said those words aloud. Silence fell between the speakers, as though even they realized the weight of what had just been uttered. It wasn’t just fear in their voices. It was belief.

Suddenly, a familiar presence shifted behind her, and she turned just as Liandrin stepped into view, her posture elegant and regal. “You’ve had enough time to study.” she said smoothly, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk. “Come, it’s time for your lesson.”

But Nesta noticed the subtle delay, the flicker of Liandrin’s eye toward the direction the whispers had come from. She had heard.

As Nesta rose, gathering her book, she asked, “Did you hear what they were saying? About the Accepted going missing?”

Liandrin didn’t look at her, as she started walking. “I did.” she said evenly.

Nesta followed, eyes narrowing. “Do you think it’s true? That someone might’ve...”

“People vanish from the Tower all the time.” Liandrin interrupted. “Runaways, failures. Some of them simply decide they don’t belong here.”

“You don’t think there’s truth to it?”

Liandrin’s eyes flicked to her then, too sharp, too quick. “I think you’d do well not to linger in things that don’t concern you.” Her voice wasn’t as calm as her words.

“You don’t believe that.” Nesta said firmly.

“I believe that asking too many questions here is a good way to disappear.” Liandrin said carefully. “You’d do well not to entertain such nonsense. Rumors are as dangerous as the truths they’re built on.”

The air in the dark room was thick with sweat and the low hum of channeling filled the space as Nesta pushed herself further than ever before. She was barely holding onto a weave, her body screaming for rest, but she refused to give in. Her muscles burned, but the drive to prove herself, to prove she could be stronger than her limits drove her on.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Each movement felt heavier than the last, and her vision began to blur at the edges. But she couldn’t stop.

She barely had time to react before her feet faltered, the weave shattered and her knees buckled. She collapsed onto the cold stone floor with a soft thud.

Again, she hadn’t even realized she was on the ground until the shock of it hit her. She hadn’t intended to go this far. The interaction with Lanfear in the dream had left her unsettled. She could feel the aftereffects of the fight lingering in her chest.

Nesta’s breath came in short bursts, as a cool touch on her arm jolted her from the haze. Liandrin was kneeling beside her before Nesta could blink, her eyes narrowed in concern.

"You’re done." she said, her voice like steel. “You don’t move. You don’t speak. Just breathe.”

Nesta tried to sit up. Tried to protest. "I have to..."

“You have to obey me.” Liandrin snapped, fingers pressing firmly into Nesta's shoulder, grounding her in place. Her tone left no room for argument. “You don’t get to decide when enough is enough. Not when you can’t even stand.”

Nesta’s mouth opened, but her body betrayed her. Her pride surged up in protest, but even that was dim now, dulled by sheer fatigue.

Liandrin’s hand slid from her shoulder to the back of her neck, firm and reassuring, fingers cool against overheated skin. “You push until you fall, again and again, and you think that’s strength?” Her voice lowered, but it turned sharper. “Strength is knowing your limit before it breaks you.”

She shifted, supporting Nesta’s weight with controlled ease. “Sit up slowly. If you pass out, I will drag you to the Yellow Ajah quarters myself. And don’t think I won’t bind you to the bed if you try this nonsense again.”

That somehow got through. Nesta sat, teeth gritted, but she didn’t argue.

Liandrin’s voice dropped lower, almost gentle. “You train because I let you. You push because I allow it. And when I say stop, you stop. Do you understand me?”

Nesta met her eyes, and in the quiet fury there, in the strength holding her up, she saw care. Real, furious, possessive care.

“Yes, Lia.” she whispered.

Finally, Liandrin’s touch eased. She retrieved a flask from her belt and pressed it firmly into Nesta’s hand. “Drink.”

The younger woman obeyed without hesitation. The water was cool and sharp, and she drank deep, grateful for it.

“I’m not letting you break yourself to prove anything to me.” Liandrin said, still crouched beside her, watching every shaky breath Nesta took. “You don’t have to, I already know what you are.”

Nesta blinked. “What I am?”

“Mine.” Liandrin said with a smirk.

She rose smoothly to her feet, then reached down with one arm, hauling Nesta up like she weighed nothing. She didn’t let go until she was certain Nesta could stand. But even then, her hand hovered near her back.

“We’re done for today.” she said. “You’ll eat. You’ll rest. If I you disobey any of my commands, I’ll make you regret it.”

Nesta managed a weak nod, eyes still locked on her. There was no use arguing, not when Liandrin gave her that look.

The door shut with a sharp click, the sound final and echoing too loud in the quiet space. Nesta flinched slightly at it but didn’t look back. Her steps were uneven, her legs trembling with every movement, but she refused to let it show, not fully. She made it two stride inside the room, before Liandrin’s hand gripped her arm.

"Sit." The command cracked like a whip.

Nesta hesitated, trying to steady her breath. “I’m fine.”

“I said sit.”

Liandrin’s blue eyes narrowed like a storm gathering force. Nesta sank onto the edge of the bed, while Liandrin moved wordlessly, wetting a cloth. After she kneeled before her with the new flask, that she’d demanded from the kitchens.

She didn’t hand it over gently, it was placed firmly in Nesta’s hand with a look that said, Drink it, or I’ll make you.

“You’re not fine.” Her voice was low and dangerous. “You collapsed in front of me again.”

Nesta forced a weak smile, wiping her face with the cloth. “It’s not as bad as it looked.”

The air in the room shifted. Liandrin’s back straightened as if bracing herself. “No, don’t downplay this.”

“I’m not...”

“You are!” Liandrin snapped. The mask cracked and her voice rose, sharp with restrained fury. “You always do this. You push yourself past every damned limit, and when you’re on the ground you tell me it’s nothing.”

Nesta opened her mouth to speak, but Liandrin surged forward, eyes blazing. “You don’t get to lie to me, Nesta. Not about this. Not when you scared the Light out of me today. I felt your pulse fluttering like a dying bird in my arms.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Liandrin’s breathing was uneven, her fists clenched at her sides. It took everything in her not to pace the room or shout more. Instead, she stood slowly, towering over Nesta now, her voice deadly quiet. “I am not here to watch you kill yourself.”

Nesta lowered her gaze. She hated how her throat tightened, how Liandrin’s words carved so vulnerably into her heart. Her fingers curled tightly around the flask. “I’m sorry.” she muttered.

Liandrin didn’t move. “That isn’t enough. I don’t want your apology, I want you to understand why I’m angry.”

“I do understand.” Nesta said, her voice cracking around the words. “I just don’t know where the line is anymore. I don’t know when to stop.”

Silence. Then Liandrin moved again, slower this time. She knelt before her, not to rage but to look at her. Her hands came up to rest on Nesta’s knees, grounding, solid.

“You want to grow stronger? Good. But you listen when I say enough. You obey when I say you’re done. Because I will not carry you off the training floor again.” Her thumb brushed over Nesta’s knee gently, but her voice stayed steel.

Nesta’s lips parted, but no sound came. She swallowed hard, finally meeting Liandrin’s gaze. “I don’t want to be weak.” she whispered.

Liandrin’s voice dropped, but it didn’t soften. “You are not weak. But refusing to rest doesn’t make you strong. It makes you reckless. You don’t get to act like your body’s just something to burn through.”

She leaned closer, her hands cupping Nesta’s face now, and her tone dipped into something darker, edged with heat. “You belong to me. And I won’t have what's mine collapsing because she doesn’t know how to stop.”

The words struck Nesta deep. She didn’t flinch from them. She let them anchor her. A shaky breath left her lips. “Next time, I will listen.”

“No, starting now. Lie down.”

Nesta blinked. “What?”

“Lie down or I’ll put you down.”

The threat wasn’t empty. And somehow, it steadied her even more. She nodded slowly, letting Liandrin guide her back onto the bed, her head resting on a pillow.

She sat down beside her, one hand on Nesta’s arm, her thumb stroking small circles. “Relax.” Liandrin murmured, voice still holding that authority that made Nesta listen. “You’re not moving again until I say you can.”

Nesta gave a quiet, breathy huff, almost a laugh. But she obeyed. Her breathing began to slow, and she shifted just enough to press her arm slightly closer to Liandrin’s side. Seeking the heat with her presence.

“You are enough. You don’t have to break yourself to prove it.” Liandrin said calmly.

The words were soft and Nesta’s fingers twitched, reaching, and Liandrin took her hand, wrapping their fingers together.

“I didn’t mean to push that far.” Nesta said, her voice a soft rasp.

“I know.” Liandrin didn’t say it with forgiveness, but with truth.

The older woman looked away for a moment, her gaze fixing on the wall, unfocused. Then she exhaled through her nose, sharp but quiet. “I was a novice with a temper and too much pride. And everybody hated that. The Aes Sedai who trained me… They didn’t teach with care. They broke you first and then expected you to rebuild yourself into something they could tolerate.”

She looked back to Nesta, her voice rougher. “No one ever told me to stop when I pushed too hard. No one held me when I collapsed.”

The silence returned, heavier this time. Nesta’s chest tightened, her fingers curling more securely around Liandrin’s.

“I thought if I could just endure it, I’d prove I belonged.” Liandrin said. “But no one ever looked at me the way I look at you. No one gave a damn whether I survived it.”

Nesta swallowed hard, eyes fixed on her. “You do, you care if I survive.” she whispered.

“I care if you live, not just survive.” Liandrin said.

The firmness in her voice returned. “You’re mine to protect. If you think for one moment that I’ll let you destroy yourself for me, you’re wrong. I’d rather lose everything than watch you burn out chasing something you already are.”

The words stole the breath from Nesta’s lungs. Her eyes stung again, but she didn’t cry. Instead, she turned toward Liandrin’s hand, brushing her lips softly against her fingers. A quiet thank you.

Liandrin leaned down, just enough that her forehead touched Nesta’s. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Rest, now. You don’t have to carry all of it alone.”

“I love you.” Nesta murmured, her eyes already heavy again.

Liandrin let out a soft scoff. She answered, voice rich with affection and a touch of pride. “You'd better after all the trouble you give me.”

Nesta managed the faintest of smirks, but her eyes were already closing.

Liandrin moved closer, fingers stroking slowly through Nesta’s hair, her dominant presence tempered by care. Then, softer she added, “I love you too, reckless thing. Even when you test my patience.”

Nesta exhaled, her body finally relaxing fully into Liandrin’s touch. There was no more fight in her. Just warmth and closeness. And Liandrin stayed with her. Silent, steady, guarding her sleep with all the ferocity of someone who had once known what it was to face the darkness alone.

#liandrin guirale x reader #kate fleetwood #wheel of time #lanfear #liandrin sedai #lanfear x reader #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin guirale

15 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 16 | The Pain We Choose

Lanfear's come back. - around 5k words

The throne fit her like a second skin. It was carved from obsidian and shadow, jagged lines flowing into sharp, regal edges. Liandrin sat poised atop it, spine straight, legs crossed at the ankle, hands resting on the arms like she was born to rule. Her hair was swept back from her face, her lips painted red, and her robes, crimson silk with threads of molten gold were shimmering like fire when she moved. The chamber around her was vast, empty, but completely hers.

She was radiant, powerful, and worshipped.

A perfect silence stretched before her, and in it, she could feel the weight of obedience. The kind of submission that she’d always deserved, not begged for, not scraped together in desperate glances and false smiles. This was the world where she had finally won.

But suddenly, the air grew colder. From the corner of her vision, shadows bled forward, crawling along the marble floor until they pooled in the center of the hall. A tall figure stepped out from them, dressed in gleaming silver and black, her beauty so sharp it hurt to look at her. The Forsaken.

Her eyes glinted with moonlight and malice. “Still clinging to your little fantasy, Liandrin?”

The words echoed like a slap. Liandrin’s fingers tightened on the armrest, but she didn’t move.

“You sit on my throne.” Lanfear continued, “And dare to dream she’ll stay yours?”

Liandrin tried to stand up, but her body didn’t respond. A jolt of panic surged through her. Her muscles refused to obey. Her mouth opened, but no words came.

Lanfear smiled. And then the world flipped.

She didn’t see the motion. One moment she sat above all, and the next she was dragged down to her knees, the stone cold beneath her skin. The throne loomed above her now, and Lanfear sat upon it, legs crossed with elegant ease, her power stretching out in waves that made Liandrin’s skin crawl.

“You forget your place.” Lanfear purred.

Liandrin growled in response, the sound low and rough in her throat, but it was hollow. Her body betrayed her, trembling at the feeling of Lanfear’s power. She wanted to spit at Lanfear’s feet. She wanted to rise, to fight, to be something more than this pathetic thing on the floor.

But she couldn’t. She could only feel how exposed she was, naked in every sense that mattered, her strength stripped, her pride in tatters. And worst of all she was afraid. Not just of what Lanfear might do, but of what Lanfear already knew.

“I forget nothing.” Liandrin muttered, her voice low, bitter like poison. Her eyes locked with Lanfear’s, desperate to reclaim some fragment of herself. “Least of all what you are, Mistress.”

She hated how easily it fell from her lips. She hated that some part of her, long buried, still knew how to say it.

Lanfear’s smile widened, slow and indulgent.

“Oh, sweet thing.” she whispered, dragging her boot gently under Liandrin’s jaw. “Still biting, even with your teeth broken.”

Liandrin’s breath hitched, heat crawling up her neck. Humiliation, a helpless burn in her chest, a bone-deep shame that no amount of strength could cover. She lowered her gaze in submission.

“Up.” The Forsaken said, tilting Liandrin’s face with the boot.

Liandrin shook her head, trembling.

“Still so proud. Still pretending to be more than what you are. But I see you clearly. A weapon someone else forged. A woman so broken she confuses pain for strength.” Lanfear sighed as if the sight bored her. As if Liandrin’s humiliation was routine.

The Aes Sedai’s eyes were glassy, caught in that moment between fury and despair. Her throat burned with the need to say something, but nothing came. Nothing but the sound of her breath, unsteady and shallow.

Lanfear pressed her boot more firmly against Liandrin’s cheek, the edge digging in her skin. “Go on, kiss it” she whispered.

Liandrin resisted for a moment. But then her body betrayed her. Her head dipped, and her lips brushed against the leather, cold and smooth. Her whole body tensed, shoulders trembling as she held herself still. Shame crept up her spine and it settled heavy in her chest, squeezing around her lungs.

It wasn’t just Lanfear's presence, nor the sickening pull of obedience she couldn't deny. But the dreadful thought of what this would look like to someone else. To Nesta.

Would Nesta recoil at the sight of her like this? Kneeling and powerless. Her lips on another woman’s boot as if that was all she was worth. Would she sneer and walk away, suddenly realizing that the woman she admired was nothing more than this?

The thought hit deeper than Lanfear’s boot ever could and Liandrin couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t bury it fast enough before Lanfear’s voice came again.

“Oh, that struck a nerve.” she purred and the corner of her mouth curved a victorious smile. “You’re afraid she’d never look at you the same, aren’t you?”

The heel scraped lightly down the woman’s jawline, dragging with excruciating grace, before settling again beneath her chin. A pointed reminder of who controlled this moment.

“She’d walk away.” Lanfear said, as if narrating a truth the world had already accepted. “She’d leave you behind the moment she saw what you really are. Weak. Broken. Trained.”

Liandrin’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t move. Her defiance was a flicker now, trapped beneath the crushing weight of humiliation.

“Lick it.” Lanfear commanded.

Liandrin’s breath caught, as she the realization of Lanfear’s words settled. She leaned in with hesitation. Her tongue slid over the leather slowly, a motion filled with reluctant submission. The boot’s surface tasted of dust and something metallic.

She had been broken before, but never like this. Not by a blow, not by power. But by the fear that her love might not survive the sight of her like this. Just a tool someone else had already bent.

“Good little pet.” Lanfear crooned, crouching beside her now, one hand stroking her hair like she was nothing more than a beaten animal. “Now beg me.”

Liandrin’s voice cracked, when she asked. “For what?”

Lanfear leaned in, her breath warm against Liandrin’s ear as she whispered, “To let her live.”

Liandrin flinched, her entire body going rigid, the weight of the words sinking through her like cold water through cloth. A sick realization that this was punishment bloomed in her gut.

“Please...” she finally rasped, the word trembling. “Don’t hurt her."

Triumph flashed in Lanfear’s eyes. She had feared this wouldn’t work. Feared that Liandrin might hold out, that her growing bond with Nesta might forge a strength even Lanfear couldn’t unravel. She’d seen it in the girl’s eyes, in the fire that burned every time Liandrin’s name was mentioned.

But now, Liandrin was on her knees. Not for herself, but for Nesta. And it thrilled her so much. Lanfear’s fingers curled around a lock of golden hair and gently tugged her head back, forcing her to look up.

“You would crawl, degrade yourself for her. That’s what makes this so sweet.” she murmured.

Liandrin said nothing. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her face pale. The cold floor bit into her knees, and Lanfear’s presence was suffocating.

The Forsaken leaned in, nose brushing hers, lips parted in something like mockery. “She’ll look at you and she’ll wonder how she ever loved a woman who begged at another’s feet.”

The dream shifted again and a new image took form, so vivid it stole the breath from her lungs. Nesta stood at the edge of the dreamscape, lit by an ethereal, unforgiving glow. Her face was unreadable at first, carved in absolute stillness. But then her eyes, those fierce blue eyes widened with shock and disgust.

She saw everything. Liandrin frozen on her knees, the smeared leather of Lanfear’s boot, the humiliated tremble in her posture.

“No...” Liandrin breathed. Her head shook, weak and frantic. “She wouldn’t.”

But even as she denied it, her heart cracked under the weight of her own buried doubt.

The vision didn’t fade. Nesta just turned away and walked into the darkness. Liandrin reached out with a choked gasp, fingers grasping at nothing, but the world had already begun to splinter. The dream cracked along its edges, fragments breaking off and falling like shards of glass into the void.

Lanfear’s laughter followed them down, as dream collapsed

The tension between them was suffocating, charged with an unspoken battle of wills. Nesta could feel the strain in the air as Liandrin's energy crackled, pulsing with dangerous intent. Normally, their training had a rhythm, a back-and-forth, but today was different.

Nesta watched her carefully, brow furrowed. Liandrin wasn’t acting like herself. She was distant, her power crackling in the air with barely contained fury.

Without waiting for another word, Liandrin raised her hand, and a blast of Air exploded toward Nesta with blinding speed. It was fast, calculated, and came without the usual playfulness. The force behind it was enough to send Nesta stumbling back, but she managed to raise her shield just in time.

There was no hesitation, no measure in Liandrin’s movements. It was as if she was trying to overpower Nesta with brute force. The girl leaped sideways, her shield shimmering with energy as she deflected the blast of Fire now.

With a growl, she raised both her hands, sending a wave of Earth toward the older woman. The rocks and soil lifted from the floor and sped toward her, forming jagged spikes.

Liandrin spun, using her own Air to deflect the attack. The rocks shattered harmlessly against her barrier, but the display of power from Nesta seemed to trigger something in her.

She retaliated, her hands outstretched. She pulled at the Power in a way that felt cold, devoid of any warmth. She twisted the strands of Air and Earth together, aiming for Nesta’s legs.

Before Nesta could react, she was pulled off her feet, thrown into the air by the sudden pressure on her legs. She gasped as she fought against the hold, spinning midair to land on her feet with a grunt. Her chest heaved, but she refused to let herself falter.

“Not bad.” she said, her voice tight as she glared at Liandrin, fury starting to rise in her chest.

But Liandrin only raised her hand and another pulse of Fire surged toward Nesta, and she deflected it cleanly again. But the attack didn’t stop there. Liandrin kept weaving, one wave of flame after another, her fury crackling in the air with every strike. Each burst came faster, hotter, until the place itself seemed to tremble under the force of her assault. She didn’t stop, not for a single breath. Consumed by rage, her eyes wild, her weaves only grew more reckless and brutal.

Before Nesta could fully brace herself, a streak of searing heat lanced through the air and struck her arm. A sharp cry escaped her lips as the burn seared through her skin.

The sudden, blistering pain was enough to stagger her, throwing off her focus. She stumbled backward, instinctively clutching her arm, the smell of singed flesh rising in the air. Unexpectedly, her mind went blank, shock. She hadn't expected it. She knew Liandrin could be harsh, but this felt different.

She looked up, her eyes wide with disbelief, her breath shallow. “What the hell was that, Liandrin?” she demanded, trying to keep her voice steady, though it cracked slightly with a mix of surprise and hurt.

Liandrin stood there, chest heaving, her power still crackling in the air, but there was a strange hesitation in her eyes. “Did you think I’d go easy on you?” her voice was a growl. “You think this is a game, Nesta?”

The burn throbbed on her arm, and Nesta’s gaze flickered down at the wound. It was bad enough to leave a scar if she wasn’t careful in healing. But the pain was nothing compared to the confusion and anger swirling inside her.

She didn’t flinch, though. This was Liandrin, but not the exact same woman she had trained with. Liandrin had always kept some measure of restraint, she never aimed to harm her like this.

“Is that how you want to fight?” Nesta’s voice was raw, cutting through the tension in the room.

Liandrin didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her lips pressed into a tight line, and for a brief moment guilt flickered in her eyes. However, it was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

But it didn’t matter, the damage had been done.

Nesta’s hand clenched at her side, her nails digging into her skin, her own power rising within her like a storm. With a growl of frustration, she raised both her arms, this time not defensively but offensively. Air and Fire swirled together in a violent explosion of power. The tendrils of her weaving snaked through the space between them like lightning, but instead of attacking directly, she aimed to disarm, to bind Liandrin in place with the force of her energy.

It was a risky move, but she didn’t care anymore. She was done being passive.

Liandrin’s eyes widened, surprise flashing in her gaze. But then she reacted, raising her own power to counter the strike. Air whipped around her, but Nesta’s aim was true. The surge of Earth slammed into Liandrin’s legs, sending her crashing to the ground. As she struggled to regain her footing, the shock of the girl’s counterattack lingered in the air between them.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Nesta snarled, her voice sharp. The fire in her eyes was impossible to miss.

Liandrin’s breath came in short, harsh gasps, and she glared at her, but the anger in her eyes flickered. “I’m fine.” she spat out, but there was a tremble in her voice.

“No, you’re not.” Nesta’s gaze softened but she didn’t release her hold on Liandrin.

Liandrin’s chest heaved, “I haven’t slept well.” she muttered, her gaze flickering to the floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean this.”

“Why are you pushing me like this?” Nesta asked, the suspicion creeping into her voice. “This isn’t the usual way. What’s going on?”

Liandrin’s head snapped up at the question, her eyes momentarily sharp. But then, she turned away, her face softening as if she were trying to shield herself from whatever truth was gnawing at her.

“It’s nothing.” she answered quietly, her voice distant. But when her eyes locked with Nesta’s trembling arm, her breath stopped. It was like waking from a fevered haze. The burn, the raw red of it, seared itself into her awareness far deeper than her own weaves had cut through the air. Her heart dropped.

“Nesta…” she breathed, her voice hoarse. The surge of rage that had fueled her, that had blinded her, was gone, leaving nothing but cold twisting guilt.

The girl’s expression was tight with pain, but her eyes held confusion.

Liandrin stepped forward instinctively, her voice low and cracked. “Let me let me fix it.”

But Nesta’s eyes flicked to her own hand, to the place where angry red scorched skin wrapped her forearm like a mark. The sting was sharp and fresh. She breathed in slowly, forcing herself to keep her voice calm and controlled.

“I’m fine.” she said, though her throat felt tighter than it should. “I’ll find someone from the Yellow.”

She wasn’t trying to be cruel. In truth, she didn’t want to see Liandrin’s hands trembling as she reached out to touch her. She didn’t want to watch Liandrin struggle at performing a healing wave, she didn’t want to hurt her by showing more pain on her face.

Liandrin froze. Her hands curled into fists at her sides. She wasn’t good with healing, it was true. She hated it. But to be dismissed so quickly, as if her care wasn’t wanted, as if her touch had already done too much harm, it hurt her deeply.

Shame rushed in quickly, as if it never truly left her. She was too cruel, too broken, too twisted to be loved the right way. If Nesta ever saw all of her, saw what she truly was, she’d walk away just like in the dream.

Her chest tightened. The self-hatred wrapped around her heart and squeezed.

“I didn’t mean to...” Liandrin’s voice faltered, thin and brittle. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“All good, don’t worry.” Nesta forced the words out, trying to keep her voice steady. But it came out a little too flat. Her heart was still pounding, and her arm ached with a deep, pulsing burn.

She took a breath, low and even, then another.

“I’ll go to find a Yellow Sister.” she said, calmer now. She turned and left the training area, holding her injured arm close to her side, hidden.

What have I done?

The question echoed through Liandrin’s mind, over and over, louder than the fire she'd unleashed. She hadn’t meant to burn Nesta. She hadn’t meant to hurt her. But something had snapped. Lanfear’s laughter still rang in her ears, the dream had felt so real that some part of her believed it still lingered on her skin.

That fear had twisted into something sharp inside Liandrin. Something wild, desperate, cruel and she’d lashed out.

The image of Nesta recoiling, clutching her scorched arm, would not leave her. Nor the cold dismissal in her voice when she said, “All good, don’t worry.”

She hated herself for the pain she’d caused. Hated that she had fulfilled the exact prophecy Lanfear had whispered in the dream. She was right, Nesta would see her for what she was, broken, not worthy of trust. Not worthy of love.

But she needed to fix this. Needed to make Nesta understand that this wasn’t who she wanted to be. That whatever darkness was rising in her, it wasn’t stronger than what she felt when she looked at Nesta.

The dining hall buzzed with chatter as always. Plates clinked, spoons stirred porridge, and the clamor of gossip bounced from wall to wall. Nesta entered with her usual cool stride after getting her hand healed by the Yellow Sister.

A small knot of Accepted leaned near one of the side pillars, clearly waiting. Their leader, a girl named Mavis, sharp-tongued and always circling drama, tilted her head with a smirk.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” she said, voice light.

Nesta didn’t stop walking. She moved toward the meal line until Mavis stepped right into her path. The Accepted leaned in slightly. “Must be nice being protected by the Red.”

“Be careful with your words.” Nesta said, voice low but sharp.

But Mavis continued, her voice dripping with scorn, “Do you ever notice how much you and Liandrin are the same? Both arrogant cunts with egos so high, who think they can rule the Tower. A perfect match, two women too full of themselves to see how pathetic they really are.”

The words cut through the air like a whip, and Nesta felt her pulse quicken, but there was no mistaking the ice in her tone. “You’ve got a filthy mouth. You should learn to shut it before you choke on it.”

“What? Is it too close to the truth? Mavis asked voice laced with malice.

Nesta's hand shot out in a flash of motion, grabbing the girl by the wrist. “You just made a very big mistake.” she hissed, her grip like iron, voice deadly quiet. The room went tense as the silence between them grew thick.

Mavis, too proud to back down, shoved against Nesta’s chest, trying to push her away. “Get your hands off me.”

But before Nesta could lunge or speak, a sharp voice broke the tension. “Enough.”

The crowd parted slightly, revealing Alanna Sedai standing there. Her arms were crossed, and her expression was one of calm authority, though there was an edge of disappointment that spoke volumes.

“The show is done.” Alanna’s voice was steady, but it left no room for argument.

The other girls hesitated, but seeing the look in Alanna’s eyes, they scattered, muttering under their breaths. And Alanna turned to Nesta, voice softer now, but still firm. “Come with me right now.”

The Green Sister closed the door behind them, guiding Nesta a few paces down the hall where they could speak in private. “I saw you leaving the Yellow quarters today.”

Nesta didn’t answer. She leaned back against the cool stone and looked away.

Alanna’s tone softened. “Burn wound.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t lie. You know I’ve taught enough women to recognize a lie.” She paused, then added gently, “How long do you think you can keep carrying this weight alone?” She tilted her head, studying Nesta. “And Liandrin?”

The question hung between them. Nesta’s expression hardened for a moment, but she quickly masked it. “She’s not the problem.” she replied coolly.

“You’ve been through a lot. And you’ve done well in keeping your power in check, but do you actually trust her?” Alanna’s voice was quieter now, understanding settling in.

“I trust her.” Nesta said, but it came out sharply and way too quickly.

They stood in silence for a beat, until the Aes Sedai sighed and said. “You’ve changed since the Arches. Not just your power, but the way people see you. The way you carry yourself too.”

Nesta didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure how to put into words the sensation that followed her since that day. How it had unmade and rebuilt her at once.

Alanna continued. “They’re afraid of you now. Some envy you. And when you’re close to someone like Liandrin…” There was no venom in her tone. Just concern.

Nesta’s voice was quiet. “You think she’s bad for me.”

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I think Liandrin’s complicated, she’s been alone too long. And I think you’ve been hurting in ways you don’t speak of. Unfortunately, sometimes, when two wounded people cling to each other, they forget the line between love and pain.”

“She’s not what they think.” Nesta said finally. “She’s more than what they see.”

“I’m sure she is.” Alanna’s smile was small and sad. “But even the most dangerous women can be fragile inside. And the ones who wear their strength like armor sometimes forget how to lower it.”

Alanna stepped closer, placing a hand gently on Nesta’s good arm.

“Just be careful who you bleed for. Or who you’d burn for. Not all love is a safe place to land.”

Nesta nodded slowly, her voice soft. “Thank you.”

Alanna gave her a final, searching look, then turned and walked back into the hall, leaving Nesta alone in the quiet.

Liandrin sat near the edge of her bed. She let her fears and insecurities control her, and now the person she cared about was standing right in front of her, not with anger, but with that same gentle but worried look on her face. The softness that she thought, she didn’t deserve.

“I’m sorry.” Liandrin finally whispered, her voice barely a breath. It cracked, betraying her shame.

Her eyes dropped to her hands in her lap, and she clenched them into fists, as if that would somehow steady her thoughts. Her pulse quickened as she realized how weak she must look in front of Nesta.

“I didn’t mean to do that. I lost control.” she said louder, her voice strained, as if admitting something she could barely acknowledge. Her eyes avoided Nesta’s, her body stiff as though she couldn’t bear to face the pain she had caused.

Nesta stood still, her eyes softening in confusion. There was no rage in her gaze, only concern. Her heart ached at the sight of Liandrin, crumbling before her in a way that left her feeling helpless. She couldn’t understand what had caused this, couldn’t understand why Liandrin had pushed her in such a harsh manner.

“Why aren’t you angry with me?” Liandrin whispered, her voice faltering. “You should be. You should hate me for what I did.”

“I’m not angry.” Nesta said, closing the distance between them, and when she reached her, she cupped Liandrin’s cheek with a gentleness that made the woman’s breath hitch. The touch was tender, full of love, and it made Liandrin feel even more lost.

“But why?” Liandrin asked, her voice more desperate now, her hands trembling in her lap. “I hurt you. I burned you, and you’re not angry. Why aren’t you angry?”

Nesta’s eyes searched hers, full of sadness, her thumb brushing gently over Liandrin’s skin. “I’m not angry because I’m worried about you.” she said softly, her gaze never leaving Liandrin’s face. “I’m here, not to make you feel worse, but to understand.”

The older woman pulled away slightly, as if her own insecurities were suffocating her. She could feel the warmth of Nesta’s touch, but it felt too much. She wasn’t sure she deserved this.

“You don’t have to be here.” she whispered, her voice breaking under the pressure. “I’m a mess. You don’t deserve to be dragged down with me.”

Nesta’s expression softened even further, and she moved even closer, without any doubts. She cupped Liandrin’s face more firmly, pulling her gently back into her gaze.

“You don’t get to push me away like this, Lia.” Nesta said, her voice full of compassion. “I’m here because I want to be. I’m here because I care about you. No matter what happened, no matter what you think, I’m not going anywhere.”

Liandrin’s chest tightened painfully, and she swallowed hard, her vision blurring with unshed tears. She was so used to pushing people away, to being feared, to being the one in control. But Nesta wasn’t afraid, she wasn’t turning away from her.

“I don’t deserve you.” Her voice barely audible.

But Nesta only shook her head, her thumb still brushing over Liandrin’s cheek with love. “You do. You deserve all the kindness and love I can give you. Please don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t know how to handle this.” Liandrin admitted, her voice shaking. “I’ve always been the one who takes, who pushes people away, and now I don’t know how to be anything else.”

Nesta pulled Liandrin into a full embrace, wrapping her arms around her with a protective strength. One hand cradled the back of Liandrin’s head, while the other settled firmly around her waist, holding her close.

The older woman tensed at first, startled by the intimacy, by the ease of Nesta’s affection. But she didn’t pull away. The warmth of Nesta’s hold bled through her defenses, disarming her completely.

“You don’t have to be anything else for me.” Nesta whispered, her voice soothing, as if trying to reassure Liandrin that she didn’t need to change. “Just be yourself. That’s enough for me. And if you ever need me, I’ll always be here.”

Liandrin closed her eyes, allowing the warmth of Nesta’s words to sink into her like sunlight breaking through an endless storm. Wrapped in her arms, she felt the tension in her shoulders slowly begin to unravel, as if every breath Nesta took beside her was untangling the knots she didn’t even know she carried

The girl gently pulled away from the embrace, only enough to see Liandrin’s face. Her hands didn’t let go for a second. Wordlessly, she guided her to the nearby sofa, settling her down softly. But even as Liandrin moved beside her, Nesta kept hold of her hand, her thumb brushing gentle circles along the pale skin.

Liandrin stared down at their hands, her throat working around words that seemed too heavy to speak. “I dreamed of losing you.” she said finally, her voice hoarse. “Not just losing... You were taken from me.”

Sadness flickered through Nesta's eyes. She didn’t speak, just squeezed Liandrin’s hand tighter, willing her to keep going.

“There was a woman.” Liandrin whispered. “She touched you like you were hers.”

Nesta’s breath caught as the realization settled in. It had to be Lanfear. The Forsaken from her own dreams. The woman who had taunted her, now haunted Liandrin’s nightmares too.

“I was nothing in that dream.” Liandrin continued, trembling slightly now. “I could only watch as you followed her. And I couldn’t do anything. I hated her. But more than that, I hated myself. Because you looked at her the way I...” She stopped, her jaw tightening. “The way I wish you'd always look at me.”

“Lia, I’m only yours.” Nesta said. Her eyes searched Liandrin’s face, as if trying to find a crack she could crawl into, anchor her love there. “I love you with my whole heart and soul.”

But Liandrin couldn’t meet her eyes. She shook her head, voice rough and breaking. “You should’ve been furious with me today. I burned you. What kind of woman does that to someone she loves?” Her voice cracked completely, and she turned away, ashamed. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.”

Nesta’s heart clenched, she reached out, her fingers curling beneath Liandrin’s chin, tilting her head gently to face her. “Don’t say that. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

Then, without breaking eye contact, Nesta took Liandrin’s hand and slowly brought it to her chest, pressing it over her heart. “Feel that?” she whispered. “You’re part of me.”

For a beat, Liandrin didn’t speak, but her eyes flicked over Nesta’s face until they dropped lower, catching the soft gleam of the red choker nestled at her throat. Her claim wrapped so delicately around Nesta’s neck. Worn with pride and love.

Slowly, her hand rose, threading into Nesta’s hair, fingers curling at the nape. With a soft but commanding pull, she brought her closer, their breaths tangling, and her lips brushed against the girl's.

Nesta melted into her, her hand gripping the side of Liandrin’s cheek, her body leaning in like she needed to keep Liandrin in place.

Their kiss deepened, every brush of their lips was a whisper of devotion, a silent vow that neither would let go. There was nothing rough between them now. Only care and proof that no nightmare could take this away.

#liandrin guirale #liandrin guirale x reader #kate fleetwood #wheel of time #lanfear x reader #lanfear #natasha o'keeffe #liandrin sedai

11 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 2 months ago

Text

#liandrin guirale #liandrin guirale x reader #wheel of time #kate fleetwood

21 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 2 months ago

Text

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.

#liandrin guirale #wheel of time #kate fleetwood #liandrin guirale x reader #liandrin sedai

8 notes · View notes

nestadevries · 2 months ago

Text

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.

#liandrin guirale #liandrin guirale x reader #kate fleetwood #wheel of time #lanfear x reader #lanfear #liandrin sedai #natasha o'keeffe #alanna mosvani #leane sharif

11 notes · View notes