Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It hurt to realize that she really doesn’t trust him.

Couldn’t trust him.

Not anymore.

Not since he, in his own conscience and reason, as he had made a point of pointing out with that smirking chuckle before she showed him exactly who he was talking about, had decided it was an idea to develop a romantic relationship — or whatever the hell that was — with a Forsaken.

Not since that very undiplomatic speech in the desert, before he left Saidin envelop him, and rain it down upon the deadly sands of the Aiel Waste.

Somehow, that, she had never imagined it would actually happen. 

Not when he had left for the Eye of the World. Not when he had “died.” Not when she had been imprisoned, enslaved , not even when she tore off her own chains and hugged him tightly again. Not even after what she'd seen in her tests — a version she'd never known of a man she'd loved in every version of himself. No… He was Rand. Her Rand, and no matter what happened, what it took, what fate and the Wheel required of him, of each of them, he would always be Rand, and she would always be her, and they would always be them.

He could be petty when he wanted to be, it was true — a truth he himself didn't accept — and he was arrogant in his opinions, and though he tried not to show it, it was true that part of him wished, had always wished, that she orbited around him — like the earth around the sun — that being with him, a life with him, was the greatest of her dreams and goals, but he was Rand. 

No matter what the Dragon made him into, he would always be Rand, and he was the most important among them.

He was everything , for life and for the world and for her, and she never thought it would actually happen, but it did and she doesn't trust him.

Because something had changed in him.

Something small, hidden in the curves of his eyes, a tiny black tip that hid in the blue of those eyes she had known all her life, and that she could see now and then spreading faintly at the corners, before disappearing into the blue again. A dark, deep touch that wasn't his, and that he refused to acknowledge more and more each day, letting himself be drawn deeper and deeper into it Saidin , touching power even when it was not necessary.

A stain.

A stain that did not belong to him, but that each one of those days in Waste, as the sun rose over the desert plains and he crept out of his tent to find those who followed directly under his hand — the Car’a’carn, prophesied to his faithful — he almost seemed to hug.

Moiraine saw it too.

She was following him with her eyes much more carefully and coldly than she had before he fulfilled that prophecy. Before he told the Aiel people that they would either follow him or pay the price. Before her and Lanfear's encounter in the desert — two days before Egwene started to see the way her eyes were a little more worried, a little more tense — from which she had returned carried by Lan, crying on his chest for someone she would not see buried; alive, but so terrified by the encounter with the Forsaken, that not even she could hide the fear and dread that burned in her eyes every time someone touched her shoulder or appeared behind her without warning.

There was fear in her eyes, the Wise woman of the Aiel had said one night, as they sat around the fire and watched Rand talk with the man, chin high. A hidden terror, something that spread over her like a blanket, almost as if it were lodged in her back, following her back and forth. The price, Bair had said, of an encounter with darkness; of being marked by the Daughter of Night, whose hand bore her father's affection and the pride of darkness, and whose touch haunted for eternity those she wished to torment.

It had been spoken of in the legends of the Aiel, Bair had said.

Of the most dangerous of the Forsaken’s, the most intelligent of them all, whose cruelty knew no limits when provoked, blessed by the shadow itself. 

But it wasn't just Lanfear the Aes Sedai feared, even if it was noticeable how the mere mention of the woman made her stiffen like a tree, tense and frightened.

It was strange, Egwene took a deep breath, that the realization brought a chilling sense of comfort to her bones.

A strange mixture of comfort and despair.

Comfort because she was not alone in her fear, and despair; she saw it reflected in Moiraine's eyes as clearly as she felt it within herself. The same truth she could not ignore, even if she wanted to. 

Moiraine was, Egwene  knew then, at that moment, exactly where she herself was: alone, watching, trying to understand, trying to accept that Rand would not yield to any threats or advice she gave if he didn’t wanted to, that the power he held was both a promise and a threat, and that the boy from Two Rivers whom Moiraine Sedai had dragged from his home and his loved ones died a little more with each sunrise. That the love she felt for him — because he was Rand and he was lovely and easy to love — and the hope that he would not become a stranger before her eyes coexisted with fear and doubt, and that, even so experienced, so prepared, so wise, the Aes Sedai and any of the Wise Women who spread across the Aiel desert, accompanying him as he led his people, could do nothing but watch, wait, try to guide and protect with silent, almost invisible gestures, leaving the entire world in the hands of a man who perhaps was — was , she knew — losing himself every day.

She asked herself once, if for a second, Moiraine felt guilty.

If for a moment, a second even, the Aes Sedai allowed herself to think about what she had done, the relationships she had destroyed by accepting this mission. If it was worth the struggle, the sacrifices, the relationships she had lost, and the trust that had been broken along the way. 

If she regretted it already, even when they weren't even halfway through the way.

If, at some turn, some crossroads they passed, they chose the wrong path, and she was also to blame. If there was something more she could have done to ensure that the boy from Two Rivers would remain the boy from Two Rivers for a little longer. If she should have loved him more, given herself more to him. If, if she had done that, it would have been enough to keep him from falling in love with someone else.

Enough for him not to give in to whatever spell that woman had cast over him.

It had  to be a spell.

It was the only possible justification, for Rand was obtuse at times, and ignorant and arrogant in his own abilities and opinions, but he was not stupid ,  he wasn't cruel, and loving a Forsaken, choosing a Forsaken while they all gave of themselves to ensure he would survive, that he would live , just because she was a beautiful woman who “understood” him, was selfish and cruel and Egwene refused to accept that he had done it willingly .

And yet, he had done it.

He had done it, again and again, choosing Lanfear over her for nights on end and then choosing her again when trying to defend what they were, before she showed him what she really was, the woman he hadn't had the courage to say he loved out loud, and inside her that stab of pain, a knot that tightened in her stomach, mixed with fury and helplessness.

It had stained him.

Even if he had chosen them in the end, even if at that point he had ended whatever relationship he had with the Forsaken — the mere thought made her want to laugh and laugh and laugh — and hadn't said a word when Moiraine had said that she had mortally wounded her, he had stained himself for her.

He was Rand and she knew him too well not to.

She knew that deep, silent breath he'd taken when Moiraine had muttered the words, choking on her own blood. She knew the way his shoulders had stiffened. She knew the way, for a second — just a second, but long enough — he'd stood completely still, like a statue made of stone. She knew every single one of those things, and she knew, she knew that if she'd placed her hands on his chest as Moiraine choked on the words, she would have felt his heart nearly stop beating in her chest, and she wouldn't even have needed to look at him to know it was fear, that had stopped him from breathing.

Fear, Egwene knew, not of her, but for her.

She knew, and every gesture, every word, every touch — even those small, almost imperceptible ones that had once filled her with warmth — of his now carried a shadow. A name. A woman he had embraced, held against his chest in a place that was theirs, and that wasn't her. She was in him, Egwene swallowed, even though she wasn't really.

Even if she was dead, or at worst, just far away.

“He’s not lost… yet.” Moiraine had murmured to her, at her side, following her eyes, the shadow Egwene watched from across the field, walking among soldiers and faithful, in a whisper almost imperceptible but firm. “You have to believe this, even if it’s just a spark. We both do.”

Egwene balanced her head, watching silently as Rand reached down to touch a teenage girl's forehead with his fingers, a small, thin smile on his lips as she looked at him.

Sweet and fond.

Rand in his most natural form.

“What if the spark isn’t enough?” She spoked, finally, feeling her own voice tremble, as the man in question finally crawled to where his tent was located. He was alone now, she blinked. She hadn’t set foots in that tent since the moment she learn the truth and she wouldn’t. Not again. “What if he can’t fight off… alone?”

Moiraine didn’t answered, just kept her eyes fixed on him, following the shadow as it disappeared into the tent, before pushing herself to her feet and looking for her own bed; Egwene took a deep breath down, almost wishing she had the woman's control and calm, even when every fiber of her being screamed to run, to hide, to forget the pain and betrayal.

She couldn't blame her for runing from the answer, Egwene knew; they were all running from something those days, and when the sun set and the desert grew cold as it was beginning to do at that moment, hiding in their own tents was a comfort they all curled up in.

She couldn't blame her for doing the same thing she had been doing.

Moiraine didn't have an answer either, she knew.

Had the answer, Egwene corrected herself, but wasn't yet ready to say it out loud. She wasn’t either. Still didn't have the courage to speak what she had discovered. That open wound in her chest that made her constantly suspicious of him, that made her reevaluate everything he said, silently wondering what was true and what was another lie.

The undeniable fact that he was the most powerful man in the world and he could not be trusted.

That was why, Egwene told herself the first time she did it and continued to repeat it every night, she was visiting his dreams.

At first, she had wondered if he was purposely leaving his dreams so unguarded. If it was some twisted way of letting the Wise Ones and herself, should they dare venture into his dreams, know that he had nothing to hide and that he could be trusted. That what he had been doing with Lanfear for the last months was done, and if they didn’t trust his words on it, they could prove it themselves. If he was trying to show her — them — that he cared.

Then, she wondered if he had used too much Saidin the week before, making it rain on the desert, and he couldn't use it to protect his dreams without paying a price. If he was hiding the repercussions of what it took for him to prove himself as the Car’a’Carn. 

It took her a weak to realize it wasn't on purpose. 

That his dreams were his own and unadulterated by Saidin . That he dreamed of what he desired, so intrinsically involved in the dreams, in their desire, that he did not even notice when the power within him transported him to Tel'aran'rhiod and the dream changed not naturally, but because its influence made it so.

She was invading.

She knew that she was invading and that she had no right to do so, not really, no one did, that each dream was a piece of him that he didn't know how to — or didn't want to — expose to anyone else and that she shouldn't be there, that she shouldn't have come back, that he was, in fact, without even realizing it, leaving his mind open and that it was not to her. 

It was, Egwene breathed, realized that first week as she plumped the pillow against her back, bracing herself to take another beating, to endure whatever the night's dream might be, a declaration of love continued, terribly honest and sincere, and each night he opened a bigger piece of his heart and each night he broke a bigger piece of hers.

The first night had been the worst; it had taken her by surprise and she had woken choking on her own vomit, bile high in her throat and her eyes wide and stained with tears that weren't hers. 

She had been deceived by the beautiful sight, by the beautiful mountains that spread before her eyes, endless greenery, and a sea that lapped at the rocks below the cliff, tall, shimmering rocks that shone against the sun. She hadn't recognized the place, and something inside her had told her it was from a time long before she dreamed of existing, but she had recognized the woman dressed in white whose hair floated in the air.

She could never forget that face.

It still haunted her, every time she closed her eyes.

Except she looked like a completely different person there, white dress billowing in the breeze, her hair much longer than she'd ever seen in her dreams falling loosely over her shoulders, and a smile on her lips. Beautiful, Egwene had realized, the word coming naturally to her thoughts. She was beautiful, her laughter a crystal-clear, genuine sound that echoed loudly off the cliff, and Rand watched her, his eyes so soft, absolute, pure adoration shining on his face so clearly, that from where she stood, Egwene wished she could scream.

It was the face of the boy from Two Rivers, completely intact, completely surrendered, so full of a love so deep and unhindered that there was no room for the Dragon, for the madness, or for the world. For everything that had been forced upon him. For what destroyed him a little more the more successful he was in fulfilling the prophecies.

She hated it.

She hated it, Egwene had felt the bile in her throat with the though, that he offered that to someone like her. That he would show that to the enemy, when she had done so much against them. That he would dream with her, still dream with her, even after she had almost killed Moiraine. After what she had done to her.

The way her hand fit in his when he reached out to her felt so soft, so natural , that Egwene had held her breath, not breathing until  he gently pulled her forward, resting his chin on her head as he held her close and they both turned to look at the sunset; from a distance, Egwene heard perfectly clearly as she whispered to him, her voice clear and sweet as honey.

Like a poison.

“I love you, Rand al'Thor.”

The words had hit her like a punch to the gut, but Egwene had forced herself to stay, to watch, to remind herself that this woman was a Forsaken, a living lie. That Rand was fooling himself, falling for a lie, a game, a ruse she had crafted so well that he didn't see the truth about her. That he didn't see how cruel, dangerous, and deadly she was, even when she had shown it to him in so many ways.

But in the dream, in his dream , she didn't look like that, and Egwene had felt the fear creep a little deeper inside her with the way that Rand, unconscious or not, seemed to see her.

In the dream, she was just a woman.

The woman.

It was because of that, because Rand looked at her as if she were the moon, as if she held the world in his hands, that Egwene hadn't noticed the change in the air. That she hadn't noticed the way her face changed as Rand whispered softly to her that he loved her. That she hadn't seen the next words coming until they were in her ears, and her voice wasn't sweet anymore, but choked, wounded, and sad and Rand had gasped and taken a step back as her body fell on top of his.

“Then why did you kill me?”

His hands were stained with blood, Egwene had realized belatedly — realized when she woke, as the sun bathed the sand and she tried to force down some water, that she had not done so before because he had not done so and the dream was his, his nightmare, uncontrollable as his mind tormented him with possibilities — and they stained the white of her dress as he tried to hold her.

The scream he had let out of his throat had followed her for the rest of the day, haunting her every time she saw him open his mouth to speak, the words seeming slower than usual, as if it hurt him to talk — he had hidden himself in the Waste, she remembered, wandering off to a part of the desert where no one dared look for him, disappearing for much of the day before returning, looking perfectly composed and clean, no trace of tears or the pain he had felt during the early hours.

It wasn't human, something fierce and broken, so deeply painful that in the dream Egwene had felt her legs tremble, her eyes widen as his scream echoed in her bones, a vibration of pure terror — dread — spreading over her . He had been trembling, she had noticed, his arms shaking violently, his hands — those hands she'd known since she was nothing more than a child, since she'd become a love struck teenager, that had held a bow, entwined his fingers with hers, caressed the face of an Aiel child, held her through the cold nights — now soaked a dark, grotesque red. Blood flowed steadily from her side, a cascade of red that stained the pristine white of her dress, dripping onto the pale rocks like ink spilled on parchment, staining it with it, turning the pale robes he'd worn to bed dark.

“I didn’t… I didn’t want to…” His voice had sounded low, a rag, a hoarse, broken whisper, desperate, agony so thick emanating from him that it seemed to materialize in the air, eclipsing everything and making breathing difficult even for her, as if something were pushing glass down her throat. “Oh, Light, please… please no.”

He had tried to staunch the flow with his hands, pressing desperately hard against the wound, but the blood continued to ooze between his fingers, hot and relentless, and Egwene had taken a step back as he pushed his hands against her so hard that where she stood, on the edge of a dream she had no right to witness, she had heard something — a rib — crack.

His shoulders shook with muffled sobs, his body bent over hers in a protective curve, futile and desperate.

She was dead, somehow Egwene knew, and she wanted to pull him away from what was left of her. She wanted to tear him away from the pain that emanated from him so clearly she could feel it inside her.

As if it were hers.

She was dead.

But it was his nightmare, what somehow his mind decided that it would torment him with, putting in words the fear that he hid deep inside him, and her voice still rang out, dragging itself into his ears, then into her ears, and Egwene had held what was left of her breath as she understood the words.

“Why did you do this to me?” Lanfear's voice was no longer sweet, but a whisper, tinged with a deep and sincere sadness, her eyes glassy, ​​fixed on him, but empty. So empty that they haunted her. It was like this, Egwene had felt bile rise in her throat, that it would feel to be hearing a corpse speak, no trace of life in it and the accusation in her eyes sharper than any blade, terrifying in so many ways she couldn't describe. “I gave you everything. I always give you everything and you did this to me. Why did you do this to me?”

"Stop!" He had cried, his voice rising to a panicked falsetto. “Stop, please, please, I—I beg you… I didn’t know… oh, creator, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t—it wasn’t me… please, it wasn’t me” Her words were an incoherent jumble of denial and guilt, tears streaming down his face, wiping pale trails in the dirt and blood that spattered her skin, and Egwene had taken a step closer before she even realized she had. “ Forgivemeforgivemeforgivemeforgiveme, please, Lanfear, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I don't mean —”

He had buried his face in her neck, sobbing into her silky hair that was now sticky and damp and even though she didn't know if it was possible to do it in the dream world, Egwene wanted to vomit.

The dream was breaking, she realized, the scenery around her beginning to stagger, the cliff growing hazy, the vibrant colors of the sunset fading to shades of gray and darkness. The only thing that remained clear, horribly vivid, was the figure of Rand, kneeling in the center of the dead grass, embracing a woman in a blood-red dress, the world shrunk, reduced to just that moment, and Egwene heard, again and again, the pounding of her own heart reaching her ears, loud as a drum.

He rocked her back and forth, once, twice, a rhythmic movement, whispering into her hair, into her cool skin, words he wanted to say, that he wanted to make her hear, and couldn't.

Not while he was the Dragon and she was a Forsaken.

Not while she was Lanfear.

Not as long as he had to comply with the world; as long as the world watched him all the time, evaluating every action he took.

"Please." Rand had pleaded, his voice a weak and broken thing. “Please come back to me, Lanfear. I love you. Light, I love you so much it’s killing me, please come back to me.”

She hadn't come back.

Egwene was two steps away from him, her eyes wide as she realized the strangeness of the sudden stillness that had fallen over him, her body no longer trembling, her sobs gone, as he lifted his face from where he had buried it in the crook of her neck, reached up, and dragged a dagger back and forth across his own neck, drowning in his own blood.

She had woken gasping, flung from the dream by a force beyond her own, convulsing in the tent and choking on her own vomit, and she had rolled onto her side, hitting the ground with a thud as she gasped for air, her chest heaving and her ears ringing. She had laid on the ground, shivering, her face pressed against the cold ground, until the sun's rays had filtered through the cracks in her tent.

Until the raw, naked understanding of what she had seen made her tremble until she couldn't support her own weight.

He killed himself.

In the only place where it truly mattered, in the sanctuary of his own mind, where a dream was still just a dream, he had chosen to die; not only chosen, but done it , tearing the life out of himself with his own hands. 

And that stain, she had noticed when she saw him walking across the desert, had grown a little bigger in his eyes.

His voice was clear. Firm. Full of that quiet authority that made her stomach tighten; it was still there, she knew, even if diluted now — muffled, crushed by the reality of what he'd done, of who he'd chosen to share a bed with — that hot flame of desire, that attraction. No longer just Rand al'Thor but the Car'a'carn . Standing tall, his broad shoulders gleaming under the already hot desert sky, the yellow sunlight making his hair seem even more vivid, warmer. He spoke to Rhuarc, one finger pointing toward the eastern horizon, perfectly well and unaffected. 

For a fleeting instant, a flicker of sick relief had ignited within her — it had only been a dream, a particularly vivid nightmare, her own anxiety projected —

And then he had looked at her.

It hadn't been obvious. Nothing anyone else would have noticed. But Egwene knew him. She knew every nuance, knew that man, that soul, every tiny expression that crossed that face she'd loved all her life.

She knew those blue eyes.

The darkness she'd witnessed consume him in her dream was contained in the curve of those eyes; a hidden black smudge, just a hint visible in his gaze. Sealed beneath a layer of ice so thick and smooth that even when he'd seen her and given her a thin smile of good morning, there seemed to be no warmth in his eyes.

He was intact.

He was sane.

He was working perfectly.

And it was the most horrible thing Egwene had ever seen.

So she had swallowed the bile, and the fear, and the dread, forced herself to feed and regain her strength, trained with the Aiel Wise Ones to further hone her skills, and spent the day preparing to endure whatever the hell he would dream the next night. Because he was Rand, and he was the Dragon Reborn, and he needed to be sane, and she didn't trust him.

He was trustworthy to fulfill the prophecy.

He was trustworthy to fight the Last Battle.

But he was not to be trusted to be Rand and that was exactly what made everything else worrying. Because it was Rand who would keep that promise; it was Rand who would save the world, his honor, his fidelity — to the world, at least, she had huffed — his courage, that would guide him there. 

And if they couldn't trust Rand… Egwene had stiffened in fear, so they could not trust nothing.

She was invading, she knew she was, and that it wasn't fair, that he would be upset if he found her, but she wouldn't give in, wouldn't back down. Because if she hadn't done it last time, if she hadn't crossed that line, she wouldn't have discovered what he'd done; she would still be trapped in that torment, tormented by a jealous, possessive woman, while he pretended nothing was wrong, pretending that he wounl't run from her arms in bed at night. Because if she had waited for him, if she had waited for him to come and defend her, protect her, like a helpless lady, she would still be suffering while he slept in her arms and then ran to hide in the arms of the enemy, and she was many things, Egwene had felt the anger well up inside her, but she wasn't coward.

She wasn't weak and she wouldn't stand by and wait for someone else to fight for her.

And because he was Rand, and she loved him no matter how complicated things got, and he was an idiot and was risking his life for the love of a woman who hadn't given it to him, not truly, and was disloyal and he had betrayed her — betrayed who they were, what they meant to each other, their history , and betrayed her trust — but he was still the same boy who brought her sunflowers when she was sick, and she wouldn't let him bear it alone, even if she could do nothing but watch.

So on the third night, after enduring three more dreams in which Rand, in one way or another, ended up cradling the woman who had tortured her in the dream world in his arms, in only one night, weeping over her, Egwene Al'Vere lay down in her own tent, closed her eyes, and prayed to the Light to give her the strength to endure the night. To endure whatever piece of her own chest Rand's mind would tear from him that night.

She should have prayed for her heart too.

Because that night, Rand hadn't dreamed of killing her.

Instead, he had dreamed of holding her to his chest as she murmured a string of things Egwene couldn't understand, words in the old tongue that sounded like poetry on her lips.

A man now, she swallowed hard when she noticed the way he held her — hands firm and knowing, sure of himself, yet still cradled in a tenderness Egwene had never seen in him, not even in his most emotional moments with her — not the young man he had been when he was still hers.

Rand lay there, her head resting on his chest as he stared at the ceiling, his fingers running up and down her hair, her body splayed across the bed, his voice soft and calm. His hand, broad and scarred by the sword, the weather, and the harshness of the desert, stroked Lanfear's long black hair gently, devotion , as she spread herself across his chest, her dark hair shining against the flickering candlelight that illuminated the room. Every five seconds, she noticed, he would look up from the ceiling to her, his eyes softening completely as he watched her speak, before returning them to the ceiling again, his thumb brushing her forehead in a soft, loving gesture.

A simple room and her, Egwene had swallowed again, biting her lip to contain the sudden urge to cry that flooded her chest, it was all he wanted.

Everything he dreamed of, to be at peace.

Satisfied. 

“I would have paid.” He had murmured in response to something she had said, his husky, worn voice laden with an intimacy that almost made the moment seem more intimate than it would have been to land in another dream like the first one he had visited of theirs, when Lanfear had stared into her eyes while Rand held her tightly, his lips on hers. “Whatever the price, Lanfear. I would have paid it. All of it. For you. For us. If you had truly meant it. Me. Us.” He paused, blinked once, twice. “I would have paid.”

She hadn't answered, and Egwene had watched from the corner of the room where she hid in the nothingness as the room, the dream, began crumbling at the edges, the candles flickering brighter. He was waking, she had discovered, becoming aware of what he dreamed. The wise women had spoken of it. Of dreams that were desires so deep, they ceased to be just dreams and became passages to Tel'aran'rhiod even if the dreamer was not perfectly conscious; dreams that reached so deeply into the soul that they woke the traveler within the dream itself and dragged him and what he dreamed into the world of dreams.

Egwene had sighed in relief, sharp and bitter, eager for him to wake up and leaves the world of dreams, for her to escape; to return to her own mind.

But Rand had wrapped his arm around Lanfear and pulled her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck —it was a gesture so familiar, so desperate, that it cut Egwene deep in her chest, and it wasn't resentment or jealousy she felt, but something that felt like pity —, and then, suddenly, pressed by something that wasn't her, she couldn't move.

"Stay." He had begged, his voice muffled by her black hair. “Lanfear… please, just stay.”

A declaration of love, she had discovered then as he whispered the words.

That's what his dreams were.

What was his mind wanted to share.

That was what he had to say to her, in the comfort of his own mind, where he didn't have to force himself to pretend that he didn't want her still, that he wasn't in love with her like he did every day in that desert, pretending he wasn't terrified that Moiraine had actually managed to mortally wound her; that he wasn't terribly ashamed that he had, for a second, been grateful she had escaped before Moiraine could have a certain and not a supposition.

Where it was him and only him, and he could imagine her and say whatever he wanted without actually saying it, without having to sacrifice the world for her, or her for the world.

Except that, whether through carelessness or lack of knowledge, or perhaps because that was exactly what he wanted and had finally done, this time, in that dream, Egwene realized, wide-eyed, suddenly drowning in her own fear, he had dug too deeply into his own desires, into what he dreamed and desired in the deep, safe intimacy of his own being, and had dragged her into his dream.

Egwene pressed her hand tightly to her chest, bracing himself, as the air around the room became sharp, electric, charged with an ancient, spiteful power, the room slowly crumbling at the edges, like glass slowly cracking.

Rand had bolted upright in bed, his body tense as a drawn bow, his eyes wide. He was being expelled , Egwene realized, her own eyes widening — she hadn't even known it was possible, that someone could do it without being the owner of the dream — expelled from his own dream, his eyes fixed on the woman in his arms.

Lanfear did not move immediately.

But it was her , Egwene realized, her body stiffening, power emanating from her and swallowing the soft aura that had marked the dream as she lay against Rand's chest, her languid, surrendered pose slowly becoming dangerous. Foreboding, her body stiffening a little at a time, as if she were an animal preparing to strike. Egwene had felt the fury emanating from her as if from within a furnace, a rage so intense and concentrated that it made Tel'aran'rhiod trembling, and though she was hidden in the dream — a very amusing trick she had been perfecting — it almost seemed, as she held her breath, that his eyes were on her, though they hadn't moved from where they were, staring at Rand from over his shoulder.

Then, slowly, with a grace that was frightening in its deliberation, Egwene had saw as Lanfear lifted her head from Rand's chest, her eyes shining.

“For a monster?” She had twisted the words, whispering them, her voice a teasing whisper, dangerous in a way that was sensual yet so cold , that had made the hairs on Egwene's arms stand on end. "You would have paid it all, for a monster, Rand?”

Rand had stammered where he stood, and she had crawled across the bed and away from him like a snake, the movement languid and dangerous, the sleeves of her dress dragging across his chest and the pale sheets of the bed, a dark contrast.

“You think you can use me?” Lanfear murmured to him, turning her face over her shoulder to look at him, and Rand’s color drained from his eyes where he stood, his face suddenly pale, his eyes still wide, one hand clutching the sheets. “That you can order your precious Moiraine to kill me in your place, and then summon me in your dreams, feed on my love, my memory? You think I’m so weak , that you have so much control over me, that I won't hurt you if you do it, Lews?!”

Where she stood, Egwene had seen the way Rand had stiffened completely at the name, hardening completely.

“I’m not—” Rand’s voice finally came out, a broken creak. “Lanfear, I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t you?!” She had purred at him, a veiled threat, and Egwene had wondered for a second if she should drop her disguise and make herself known. But that force had trapped her where she was, and later, when she had woken in her bed, she had wondered if she had wanted her there for the rest of the dream to torment her further or to hurt Rand . “Everything you do is want .” She spat the words. “ Coward .”

“You hurt her!” Rand had growled, straightening up in bed. “You tortured her.” He spat, scrambling to his feet and facing the woman who stared at him, her eyes blazing, burning with pure rage. “What am I supposed to do, Lanfear?! Pretend it doesn’t matter?! You knew who she was, who she was to me, and you —”

“And you knww that I would !” She cut him off, lifting her chin toward him and bringing her face close to his, and Rand gasped softly in surprise. Egwene stiffened even further where she stood, her words planting a seed of doubt in his chest, making that seed that already existed grow.

The distrust.

The fear that he had lied about that too.

That he knew, deep in his mind, in his heart, in a part that he himself did not want to recognize, that something was wrong; that she was doing something to her.

“You knew I wouldn’t accept you sleeping in the arms of that stupid doe, that I was going to do something, because you’re mine! You're mine and you like it when I'm jealous and that's why you stayed. To see if you could still make me lose control; if I cared. I know you, Lews, like no one else can; It makes you feels good. You knew. ” She had smiled at him, a savagery all her own. A wolf, Egwene had held her breath, even though none of them seemed to recognize her where she stood, was what she had looked like; a savage, deadly wolf, her teeth gleaming like fangs as she spat the words in his face. “You like to make me lose control, to make me raw and true, you always have! You accuse me of manipulating you, and then you do the same, ripping from me what I don't want to show. You and I, we are two side of the same coin.” She spat at him. “You're just too coward to say it out loud, so you creep into those dark corners of your mind, inviting me every night waiting to see if I say yes .” 

“I didn’t invite you,” Rand had said, and his voice was strangely clear, a steely edge under immense pressure. Egwene wondered if Lanfear would also recognize that speck in his eyes for what it was. “This is mine. My dream, not Tel'aran'rhiod. I didn’t invite you here, Lanfear!”

“Is it?” Lanfear laughed, a low, melodious sound that didn’t hide the fury behind it. “You scream my name in the silence of your mind, you weave me into your deepest desires, you drag me here with the strength of your saidin out of control... but you didn't invite me?” She took a step toward him, and the wooden floor blackened and cracked beneath her bare feet. “You offer me a feast, Lews, and then complain when I accept.”

“Stop calling me that name.” He had growled, and for the first time, Egwene saw a flash of anger in him, a spark of the fire she knew. He had stepped closer, facing her; he was taller — a head taller, Egwene had noticed, seeing them side by side for the first time — but it was her presence that dwarfed him.

An overwhelming presence, imposing and haughty, as if she were anything but a woman, something wrong in the air, like if she was hiding part of herself, of her power, and Egwene wondered, not for the first time, just how strong she really was in battle.

What were the chances of her actually winning a battle against her.

Of Moiraine, winning.

“Why?” Lanfear had hissed, closing the distance between them until only a hand span separated them, lifting his hand to trace the line of her jaw in the air, an intimate, possessive gesture that made Egwene flinch. “Isn’t him the man hiding beneath your eyes?! The shadow that follows you into the desert?! Do you think I don’t recognize what’s hidden within you, now, Rand ? The shadow behind your eyes? That look you had, just now…” She had smiled at him. “Isn’t that the man who moaned when where inside me? It still moans, in those little dreams of yours, doesn't it?!” She had lifted her hand, stroking his hair with her finger. “The one who whispered truths when it thought I was asleep. Lews Therin Telamon. It’s the same man who sent an Aes Sedai with the Sakarnen to kill me, after calling me petty for daring to refuse to share what is mine. I know you inside and out, from the depths of your being to the last one of those looks, Rand, and you’re Lews in his prime.”

She had looked away from him then, letting them rest on the emptiness in the corner of the room where Egwene hid, wrapped in the webs of the dream world, the smile growing on her lips, mean and sadistic.

“That’s the man she’s come to meet. A little rat, lurking, trying to figure out if Lews is truly as the legends say, and how much of him is in you… how much that stain in your eyes has taken…” She purred, her voice a seductive venom. Rand frowned in confusion, and she laughed. “Oh… you didn’t know? She comes every night, your little Egwene… Watching. Judging. Spying. Waiting to tell Moiraine when you finally, finally, do something she doesn't like... Wasn't I a monster when I did the same to her, Rand?” She winked at him, tapping her index finger on his chin teasingly. “They’re not so honest as you like to think — your precious friends — are they?”

The blood had frozen in Egwene's veins.

The scream, the anger, died in her throat and she choked, struggling in the secret place where she hid while saidar returned against her, the deep impulse she had built to move, to prepare, to do something , dying before even taking form, a force she didn't know solidified around her, suffocating her with pressure and power.

It was oppressive, Egwene gasped as she realized, her power.

The way she wore saidar this time, completely different from what she had displayed when she had trapped her in that wheel on a deserted beach, different even from when she had tortured her, impersonating someone else. Raw, intensely, suffocatingly, as if inside her, her essence, her being, was urging her to run; as if she were slowly pressing courage into her chest so tightly that fear was beginning to take over.

That was why, Egwene realized, Moiraine had lost her balance after facing her in the desert.

Some of it was Suian, the loss she had suffered, a hole in the Aes Sedai's chest that would never close, grief tormenting her night after night with broken promises and visions of what could be, but most of it was that , she had realized. The perception, the proof , that she wasn't strong enough to win, if Lanfear was truly interested in winning. That was why, Egwene gasped, the Aes Sedai's dreams had become a mixture of grief and dread, the Forsaken's shadow haunting her, tearing her from her body, from her control, in ways Egwene had never even imagined to be possible.

She hadn't been able to last three nights, the brunette blinked, trying to pull saidar, trying to pull herself away from the dream and wake up. She trusted the Aes Sedai as much as she trusted Rand, and though he was the more powerful of them, it was by watching  Moiraine’s dreams that she had had the initial idea of ​​spying Rand in his.

Because Moiraine hid all when awake, but when she slept, her dreams were open books of her thoughts, and it took her a lot of pain along the way, but Egwene had learned.

She would never trust blindly again.

To no one.

But the Aes Sedai's dreams were so heavy, so painful , that she couldn't stay. Couldn't bear it. Hadn't had the courage to keep watching as Moiraine imagined, again and again, the broken — horrifically broken — body of the woman she loved, nor had she borne the emptiness that came afterward. First the scream, then the fall, the blood on Siuan's pale fingers, on her neck, on her belly, a new place with each dream; and then the silence.

The endless silence of an empty bed, of a gaze lost in nothingness, as if the Aes Sedai herself had been shattered along with her, a void that threatened to swallow her whole, suffocating her with silence before pushing her straight into a different nightmare . 

No, Egwene couldn't bear it, so she left Moiraine alone with her nightmares and hid in Rand's.

But she couldn't hide from those eyes, she realized, too late.

Not when they stared straight at her, too deep, a tingling rising from the tips of her toes as if the Forsaken were pacing inside her, wandering through her mind.

“She wants to know if you’ve gone insane.”

Lanfear continued, his eyes shining.

“If she can trust in you. I saw it in her dreams... She thinks she can shield them from me with what she knows, what dear, dear wise Bair taught her, but it's just like playing with a dog…” Lanfear laughed, a small laugh, turning his face slightly to the side, and Egwene gasped as those blue eyes shone brighter at her. “So, so easy to get into, that it's almost not funny... But it is funny how terrified she is of you, in the other hand... Always wondering if you'll bark an order and if she'll die if she say no... If you'll just wake up one day and kill her... If you love her enough for that to be a danger... That's why everyone else bowed to you last time, too.  Fear. Everyone except me.” She had smiled at him mockingly. “Poor Egwene…” Lanfear hummed, turning her full attention to Rand. “Still trying to prove she’s strong enough. Like a child trying to hold back a tide with her hands.”

“Stop that. I know what you’re doing; what you’re trying to do.” Rand had said, but his voice had been weak, his fury dissipated under the weight of exposure and shame — she could feel it in the air, Egwene had blinked; shame overwhelming him at the prospect of her having seen what he dreamed of; what he wanted, how little he resisted — his eyes refusing to turn to where Egwene stood, bound by an unknown web. Refusing to use Saidin to see her, to recognize her presence. “We’ve been doing this for centuries now, hurting ourselves, pushing each other out when we are hurt; hurting more when we just want to make it stop. I know I hurt you, I'm sorry, just.... stop.”

“Oh, but you invited me, Lews.” She had emphasized the name with a charming purr. “And I'm not leaving anytime soon.” Lanfear laughed, stepped forward again, cupping his face with one hand. “Are you afraid she'll find the answer?” She purred, stroking his chin with her finger. “That she'll see the truth? That you'll be a monster in her eyes and she won’t love you anymore?” 

“I loved you anyway.” Rand’s voice was broken, an admission wrenched from deep within his chest, that depth he’d been trying to deny. Egwene had gone completely still where she was, even though there wasn’t much movement left with the bonds holding her. Rand closed his eyes, a single, long tremor coursing through him; it was a gesture of surrender so intimate and profound that Egwene felt her own tears finally escape, hot and silent on her face. “Love you, still.”

Anger had multiplied in the Forsaken eyes.

Egwene had tried to take an unconscious step back.

“I don’t believe you.” She had snarled at him, cold and blunt, and Egwene had watched silently, her voice swallowed by her power, as Rand had flung his eyes open, the expression on his face slowly melting into something horrified. “I did, once.”

It wasn't a lie, Egwene realized.

Even if it was her , and she would rather believe the Dark itself then in her, there was something in the air, a tug of saidar , which wouldn't let him renege on her words. A weave, Egwene had realized, wound and woven between them without words, to ensure that Rand knew she was telling the truth.

To hurt him with the truth.

“But I didn’t bow for Lews, so what makes you think I would bow for you?! ” She spat at him, her eyes shining. Anger, Egwene knew, and something else. Something deeper. Something that almost, almost felt like pain. As if he was right; as if what he had said to her in that last encounter had actually hurt. “I won’t bow for anyone. ” Lanfear had stepped back from where she stood, dragging the dream with her, lifting her chin. “And you will never drag me into your dreams again, Rand Al’Thor. I forbid you.” Lanfear had declared, her voice suddenly calm. Cold, all anger and that trace of feeling gone, evaporating into thin air. Almost as if it hurt her to show it. “You won’t have my love, not even in your dreams.”

She had raised her hand, and Egwene had felt power gather, not the One Power, but something older, more primal, the very essence of Tel'aran'rhiod bending to her will.

“ Leave .”

It was a command.

And the command had not been a shout, but a calm, final order, and Egwene was thrown backward with such force that her body flew from the bed, her spirit tearing through the fabric of her dreams until it collided with her own body in her tent, her body colliding with the tent fabric and tearing it until she was sinking into the cold sand, her heart hammering in her ribs, her lungs burning, and cold sweat dripping onto the sand.

The echoes of Lanfear's voice still rang in her ears, frightened faces crawling out of their tents and towering over her, confused and worried, when a loud, desperate scream ripped through the camp, and a thud rent the air, originating in the tent next door.

Egwene remained on the ground, ignoring Moiraine's hand gripping her elbow, tense and demanding answers, as the wind replaced the loud, hoarse scream with the sound of someone vomiting violently, followed by a hoarse, anguished moan.

Egwene had wrapped her arms around herself, trembling.

Had tried to turn off the sound.

The way he had screamed.

The name , which had been proclaimed loudly and desperately in the tent of the Car'a'Carn . 

The call he had made.

The fact that she hadn't answered.

That he had called to her, had shouted her name across the desert — Lanfear , desperate and terrified and so in love that it sounded like a song.

Egwene had tried to swallow, but her throat was as dry as the sand she was sitting on; she had swallowed a good deal when she had been thrown against the desert, she realized, her mouth dry. She had shaken her head, unable to form words, unable to explain to the Aes Sedai who was watching her, her eyes wide with surprise — with fear — and her hand trembled in the firm grip she had on her arm. It was the name that was making her tremble, Egwene knew; the fear that Lanfear would appear in the middle of the desert. How could she explain it, Egwene had trembled. The violence of the expulsion, how Lanfear had expelled them both from a dream that wasn't even hers. The rage she had exposed.

The confession that still burned his ears.

“Love you, still.”

The sound of violent retching from Rand's tent had rent the air again, followed by a low crunch of pain, and Moiraine had released her arm, following with her eyes as Lan emerged from the darkness, his hand firm on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the room for dangers they both knew couldn't be fought with steel before he walked to the tent.

Egwene had stood back for a second, her arms still wrapped around herself. Shame had suddenly burned her face. A rat lurking , Lanfear's words echoed in her own mind, venomous and true.

She was a spy.

She had invaded Rand's most private sanctuary not to help him, even if she claimed to have, but to spy, to seek a reason for her own distrust and pain. To see if he felt a tinge of guilt for what he had done to her, to them, however small. To find out if he was still himself, or if that spark was dying.

To try to erase the anger she still felt for what he had let happen to her.

She didn't regret it, Egwene had blinked, but she was ashamed to look him in the eye now. To look him in the eye and admit she had done it.

But she was not a coward, she had decided.

Her legs trembled as she dragged herself to his tent, ignoring the guards and the Aiel's stares, burning in her back from the pressure of the push, her body feeling the pains her spirit could not, and from the fear that still spread over her.

She could be anything, but she wouldn't be a coward.

He was half-kneeling on the floor, his body shaking so violently that his hands had faltered slightly in their movement as he Saidin had involved the dirt; the inside of the tent was in disarray, a table had been overturned, scrolls and a tray of food were scattered across the sandy floor, and Egwene had watched silently as he disappeared with it all, a thin layer of sweat covering his skin, bare chest rising and falling as he tried to breathe.

His voice had been a whisper as he broke the silence, not even looking up to see who had ventured into his tent.

“She didn’t believe it.” The sentence was addressed to no one, echoing in the heavy air, and Egwene bit her lower lip in silent contemplation, watching as he slowly sank to the floor, leaning his back against the bed cushions. “She rally didn’t believe it.” He repeated, and this time there was a thread of panic, of childish desperation in his voice. He sounded like a child again, Egwene realized, and she fought back the urge to cry; like when they were twelve and he and Mat got into trouble and his father let him know he was disappointed. “… It’s not there anymore. In…in the way she says my name.”

Lan had crouched beside him, a firm, gentle hand on Rand's sweaty back, and Egwene had watched silently as he blinked once, twice, in rapid succession. Egwene had felt her breath catch as the first tear rolled down his face, staining his sun-tanned skin.

“She was — I felt the pain, Light, she is —” He murmured, low and contrite, his lip trembling slightly. His face was pale, drenched with sweat and tears that flowed freely, clearing clean tracks in the dirt. His lips trembled more uncontrollably when he tried to speak, and Egwene pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob at the sight. At how defeated he looked, his chin trembling violently before he buried his face in his dirty hands, his shoulders shaking as he wept. “She is so angry... so angry with me... and she had... Light, she is right… what did I —”

The words dissolved into a deep sob.

It had been years, Egwene realized with a sob of her own, since she had seen him cry like that.

Sobbing.

“I called her a monster.” He sobbed, the words coming out through his fingers, muffled and tear-soaked, choked and almost lost. “I love her and I called her a monster .” He laughed, something cruel and belittling, and hurt and wounded and young . So young, Egwene had noticed; sometimes it was easy to forget who he was beneath the Dragon. That he was still just a man. “She's not — she's just a woman.” He choked, whispering. To no one. To all of them. “She's... she's Mierin .”

The name had come out almost like a prayer, a sacred secret; it was the first time he had said it, Egwene realized, even in his dreams. Mierin, not Lanfear. She had wondered if there truly was a difference. If there was something of what that woman had once been in who she was today — in the monster she was, even if Rand wanted so badly to tell himself it was something else she was — or if he was simply fooling himself with a past that wasn't his.

If there was any truth to the anger she felt at the words he'd spoken, or if it was simply the frustration of them having wrenched him, even temporarily, from her grasp, that had angered her.

“She is selfish and possessive, vengeful and dangerous… she is; all of those things, but she is beautiful too, and she is so gentle when she wants to be and clever — so, so clever and the way that she looks at me and the way she — the way she says — said — my name and — and I love — I love her. Love her.” He repeated, as if he needed to say it again. As if once wasn’t enough. “I love her and she hates me .”

He was still shaking, trying to breathe, trying to calm his heart and chest, which were rising and falling desperately, when Moiraine spoke. Something soft — too soft for the situation, for what Egwene had expected her to do, and suspicion had spread through her like wildfire — and careful, a low, knowing murmur that had carried through the tent as she approached him, kneeling on one knee to look at him closely, one hand resting gently on his shoulder.

“She doesn’t hate you,” the Aes Sedai had stated, and Egwene had gasped softly.

“Moiraine, don’t —”

Moiraine ignored the protest, keeping her eyes on him.

“What Lanfear feels for you, Rand, is miles from hate.” She paused, considering her words. “You insulted her. You hurt her, somehow; even if you didn’t attack her, and even if worse things have been said about her.” She considered. “Maybe they just weren’t said by you, and you mean more than anything else; more than anyone else. It hurts more when it comes from those who mean everything to us. She’s angry, but she doesn’t hate you.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice becoming even softer, more intense. For a second, Egwene wondered if she would wipe the tears still on his face, but all she did was look at him. “Hate is simple. It’s cold. What Lanfear feels for you is anything but that.” She offered him a small smile; it had almost felt like comfort, Egwene noticed. She wondered if the words were hers, or if someone else had said them to the Aes Sedai before. In a life she could no longer have, like that shared dream she had once led her to. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“Yeah…” Rand tilted his head back for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, yes she does.”

Egwene wrapped her arms tighter around herself, as if she could hold her ribs together against the pressure building in her chest. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shake him until he remembered who he was. She wanted to slap him and demand that he be changed back into himself . 

But she hadn't succeeded.

There was no strength in her legs, no courage in her throat.

“Rand,” Egwene whispered before she even realized she’d spoken, and he looked up slowly, his eyes red, his chest heaving. “I…” The words caught in her throat. What could she say? That he was wrong? That this was all just poison in his dreams? That Lanfear was a lie, and that she — Egwene — was still there, despite everything?

It would sound empty.

A lie.

Cruel.

He didn't need any more cruelty.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured instead. The truth, she decided. She would tell the truth. He would know why. “I’m sorry.”

Rand hadn't answered, his eyes returning to the ceiling, so she hadn't said anything else, casting one last glance at him as he straightened his body, steeling his spine and squaring his shoulders until he was firm and strong again, even though they had all seen exactly what lay beneath his bravery. His voice hadn't wavered when he'd asked how much the camp had heard, nor when Moiraine had assured him, as gently as possible, that her name had echoed loud enough for anyone to hear, but Egwene had seen and heard the weary sigh he'd let out before he'd shoved his hands into his shirt, which had been tossed at the foot of the bed, and stood to face the men who followed him and would give their lives for him.

Egwene had not moved from where she stood, averting her eyes to watch the star-filled sky, the moon shining high above; Moiraine's presence at her side still made her uneasy, and it was not until Rand's shadow was far enough away to hear her, murmuring soothing words to a wide-eyed Rhuarc, that the Aes Sedai had spoken.

“Can you make yourself inconspicuous enough that he won’t notice you there?”

“Not if she’s there.” It was a fact, as unpleasant as it was to say it, to admit it out loud. “She trapped me. In his dream. I couldn’t get out.” Egwene blinked, shifting her weight from side to side. “Bair said no one can compare to her in Tel'aran'rhiod, not even the oldest Wise Ones. Last time… I thought I'd managed to drive her away, bring him back from the dream, but I don't think…" Egwene had turned her eyes to the Aes Sedai; she'd seen the fear hidden beneath the coldness, the rectitude Moiraine wore. "I don't think it was me. I think she wanted me to bring him back; brought us back. Somehow. I think…” She considered the words before deciding to say them. “I don’t think we did anything more than she expected. Me. Rand. You. That battle between you two… I think she was toying with you. With all of us. I think,” Egwene spat the words. “I think, Moiraine, that if she really comes at us, we’ll die before we even get a chance to fight.”

“I know. I was —  If Siuan hadn't —” She swallowed. “If it wasn't for the bond breaking inside me, for the chock making the anger rage in me, making the power in me explode out of tracks and balance the Sakarnen, distract her, she would have cut me dead.” Moiraine rubbed her forehead, a gesture Egwene had learned to interpret as a manifestation of her own confusion; of her being lost in her own notions, unsure of what to do. “I thought the Sakarnen would be enough to match her in power, at least to give me an advantage, but…”

“She’ll kill you before you can touch that thing if you try to use it. But you're not strong enough to face her without it.” Egwene pursed her lips. “And if you ever appear before her with it again, she’ll take it from you.” The words scraped across her lips like a knife. “And if I enter his dreams again, she’ll take something from me too.”

“You must.” Moiraine had murmured, low and strained. “If something like this happens again… the problem isn’t that people heard him call her. They are the Dragon folk,” she had stated, her voice regaining a thread of its usual coolness, a shield she quickly erected. “They will follow the Car'a'carn , even if he screams the Dark One's name in his sleep. That's not the problem. The problem .” She blinked, twisting her hands into fists. “It’s that he’s drifting off, losing focus; she’s making him weak emotionally. We don’t have time to question where is his focus, his thoughts; if he loses focus now, he will leave a trail for the Forsaken and we will be caught. We will be dead.”

“And what do you suggest, Moiraine?!” Egwene swallowed her anger, turning to her. “That I continue to violate his mind? He would hate me if he knew. I hate myself for doing it.” The admission was a bitter taste in her mouth, but Egwene bore it with a straight neck. “That’s — that’s invasive , Moiraine. Those dreams… they weren't meant for me. They weren't meant for anyone.”

“I’m not suggesting you violate anything,” Moiraine corrected, her gaze fixed on Egwene. “I’m asking you to watch. You’re the only one, besides her, who can reach him there; ignoring this, what she means to him, isn’t prudence, it’s neglect. We’ve done this until now, I’ve believing he could sustain himself; that she could be useful if we play it right and that this… this so-called love , would fade away over time. When he finally sees her for who she really is. I tough he did; that she torturing you, lying to him, almost killing me, did it. That it was enough. I was wrong; we were wrong.” She squared her shoulders at her. “There is no room for blame in this, Egwene; there never was. We are facing a war and she is the enemy, but he will not do what is necessary. He will never say, never say it out loud, but he won’t! He will let her go, again and again, and she will destroy him; she will destroy all of us. So we have to do it ourselves.”

“Moiraine…”

“You need to understand him. Because that’s what he claims she does.” The Aes Sedai had muttered. “We need to understand him. So we can predict his movements. To anticipate where Lanfear might take him. She doesn't hate him; in some twisted, possessive way, she loves him. Truly. And no matter what she says, she won't just abandon him. She'll come back for him; when the anger subsides, she'll come back for him." Moiraine had stated, her eyes following Rand's form in the distance. "We need to give him something here. Something to anchor him to us.”

“I won't manipulate him.” Egwene spat the words. "I won't play with his feelings, Moiraine. No matter what happened between us, what I said that day is still the truth: I came here to keep him safe. To protect him. And I won't be another person treating him like a tool and never like a man.

Egwene had laughed bitterly.

“You want to do to him exactly what you accuse her of doing.” Egwene had whispered, anger beginning to spread through her, her voice shaking against the desert chill. “To use what I saw, what I felt, what I took from him, deep within his soul like… like a lever.” She had taken a step back, shaking her head in denial. “No. That’s just another chain. And I won't hold a leash over his neck.”

Moiraine had not backed down.

“It’s not about a leash. It’s about a reason to stay. He’s losing himself in a love that only exists in dreams because reality is hard, cold, and full of expectations he wants to escape.” She grumbled. “He’s still just a man. A boy . He needs a reminder of what, of who, he was, Egwene. Something real.”

“And you think I can be that? Didn’t you hear a word he said?!” The question came out as a mockery, but there was a thread of genuine pain so clear in it that Egwene shivered. The resentment was still inside her, she knew. That stain on her chest. “I was real! He slept beside me for months, Moiraine, months.” She spat the word. “And every night, he crawled into the dream world to be with her. Every. Night. I was real, and he preferred a dream to it .” She laughed awkwardly. “I’m not even in that competition! What part of that isn’t clear to you?!”

“The part where he’s the Dragon Reborn and the fate of the world doesn’t care what his heart desires!” Moiraine’s voice didn’t rise, but sharpened, and Egwene saw a crack in the woman’s icy facade: a glint of desperate frustration. “He can’t have her. The world will end if he does. So we need to give him a reason not to run into her arms when — when — she returns. We need to remind him that he’s still Rand al’Thor, and that Rand al’Thor belongs here. In the Light ! He needs a safe haven, Egwene, and if it's not us, it's Lanfear. It's always Lanfear.”

The words were raw.

Cruel.

But it was the truth, so even though she left Moiraine alone in the desert, offended by her words and the meaning behind them, refusing to accept what she had proposed, Egwene had watched.

Day after day, night after night.

One dream after another, following silently as he dreamed of her, naturally, and then woke up in the dream and watched her figure disappear into small, dark flakes the second he woke up and Saidin dragged him to Tel'aran'rhiod, where she did not allow him to find her . Dreams where she smiled at him, and he watched her from afar; dreams where she sat beside him, on his lap. Dreams where he killed her. Dreams where someone else did it, and he couldn't save her. Dreams where she was with him, and he was with them — with her and Mat and Perrin  and Nynaeve — in a life none of them could have no more. Dreams where she laughed with his father and where he smiled watching her do it.

Dreams where he called out to her, over and over again.

But she hadn't come back.

She hadn't returned, and the desert was behind them, and though seeing Mat, Nynaeve, and Elayne again — as they prepared to leave for Tear — brought a smile to his lips, Egwene could still see that dark spot hidden in the blue perfectly. He was trying to hide it more now; she sighed. Now that he knew she'd seen it; that she was afraid of it. Hiding the sadness beneath the gentle smiles he offered Nynaeve and the polite words he murmured to Elayne when she approached.

It wasn't good enough to hide from those who really knew him.

Even when he laughed, sounding for a moment like the boy she once fell in love with, the sound so familiar it hurt, she could still see the moment his eyes wandered to the horizon, searching for something.

For someone.

Nynaeve had frowned the first time she noticed, her gaze following Egwene's to Rand, noticing the distance between them, the coldness, and then back, laden with a silent question, and Egwene had shaken her head almost imperceptibly.

No.

Not anymore. Never again.

She almost felt a little jealous — envious — of Elayne.

Elayne, who watched him with eyes that grew warmer every day, oblivious to what he hid in his heart. Elayne, who could afford to see him as the Dragon and not feel the lost of the boy he once was. To Egwene, to Egwene and the other three who had been torn from the Two Rivers, he would always be Rand first.

It was easy to see.

The way her gaze slowly changed, curiosity giving way to respect, respect giving way to love.

It was in the tea she brought him when he looked paler than usual, shaky, never asking why — she should have asked, Egwene had blinked. If she had asked, she would have discovered much sooner what was permeating the Dragon Reborn's dreams; she would have given up while she could.

It was in the way her eyes followed him when he entered a room, soft admiration shining in her eyes. It was in the way she smiled at him; how she often ended up with one hand resting on his forearm in a quick brush before snatching it away and smiling at him. It was in the way her eyes searched for him the second he entered a room. It was in the way she smiled when she saw him next to Aviendha, and how she softened so completely that even a stranger would notice. It was in the way, one way or another, she always ended up sitting next to him at the table.

Close, but not quite.

Not like she really wanted.

“Do you mind?” she’d asked one night, in their shared room at a bed and breakfast, picking at the sheets with her fingers, avoiding her gaze. “If we — I — if I fall in love with him.”

It was sweet of her to ask, Egwene decided. That she still respected their relationship, what had once existed, enough to choose to ask.

“No,” Egwene had murmured back, feeling a knot form in her stomach; it wasn’t a lie, she blinked. Not anymore. It didn’t hurt to say the words. It didn’t hurt that they weren’t true. It was just that feeling, Egwene had blinked, of an old life they would never touch again — a peace they would never feel again, a quiet life in the mountains — that made her want to cry a little. “ I don’t."

She knew she didn't understand. Not really. That she  couldn’t understand, not without actually seeing. No one could. No one in their right mind could imagine what Rand felt; the woman he felt it for. And it was a shame, Egwene blinked, that she was asking the wrong person; that she cared about her, when there was a far greater danger coiled around the heart than had once been from a young man from the Two Rivers.

Part of her wanted to warn Elayne what she was getting into, but that other part, that part that was growing stronger every day, learning each day more, leaving aside her feelings to actually think in what was best — what could give better results —, to play the game, knew it was a risk that would be worth taking.

Maybe she was enough.

Maybe he would fall in love with her and forget about Lanfear.

Perhaps it was not a foolish hope to entertain.

But he was gentle in his demeanor and nothing more, never really prodding her, though he never cut her off. Gentle, Egwene had noticed, and impersonal. Distant. And though he smiled at the redhead who looked at him fondly, it was sadness she saw in his eyes when he did.

A sadness that still echoed in his dreams, day after day, night after night.

Dream after dream.

Egwene was almost giving up, almost abandoning his dreams altogether, when she opened the door again.

She looked different this time, her face no longer contorted with hatred and rage, but with a quiet calm that Egwene found strangely appealing. It had been a long time, she blinked, since the last time; almost a year, she blinked, between conquests. She looked worried, Egwene observed, her hair still falling like a black waterfall, but even the heavy makeup couldn't hide the way her eyes looked red.

Tired.

Rand was sitting on the sand, his feet dug into the sand, his knees drawn up to his chest, and his eyes fixed on the sea, on the waves rising and falling, the water almost reaching his feet.

Her voice had sounded too soft when she spoke.

Soft enough to make Egwene squirm where she lay, hidden in the shadows of the dream.

“You have to stop.” She had whispered to him, standing before him, the hem of her white dress wet with water, soiled with sand. Rand hadn’t looked up at her, and Egwene swallowed hard as she took another step forward, approaching him. Still proud and imposing, standing before him like some kind of queen, but strangely docile. “Rand,” She had called, her voice imbued with a firmness that finally made him look at her. “You have to stop this.”

His voice had sounded low.

Weak.

“I can't control what I dream, Lanfear.”

“It’s killing you.” Lanfear’s voice was barely above a whisper, something Egwene could almost say was genuine, evident in her voice, in her eyes slowly roving over Rand’s figure. “Do you have any idea how easy it would be for anyone to find you now?! How easy it would be for me to kill you, right now?” She made a noise that almost sounded like an exasperated huff. “You’re wasting away. Weakening your spirit. You won’t be able to force me to come here, no matter how hard you try, and the more you try, the more you’re pulling yourself into an abyss you don't know how to walk on it. It needs to stop!"

Rand hadn't answered, keeping his eyes fixed on the sea, his jaw set in a hard, firm line; that darkness at the corners of his eyes seemed deeper there, Egwene had noticed, in this dream that wasn't really a dream, a smear of ink spilled on the blue water.

“I didn’t summon you tonight,” he finally murmured, his voice hoarse. “You came of your own free will.”

“Because you are dying, you idiot, and I want you alive.” She had grunted and then crouched down, the silk of her white dress dragging on the wet sand. Rand had sucked in a breath as she took his chin in her thin, thin fingers, forcing him to look at her, and Egwene had silently wondered what it was about her that made him feel that way at a mere touch. “You’re killing me too. Every time you try to pull me against my will, you’re dragging my soul out of me, and in doing so, you’re killing me along with you. Stop it! You can't do what you need to do if you're dead, and I can't keep you safe if you're in my way all the time!”

It had scared him, Egwene had realized, seeing the way his eyes grow wide. Her words. What he was doing to her without realizing it. That he was hurting her, in more ways than one now. He had made a noise, something low and choked, and Egwene had strained to hear him speak, his voice too low and husky to be lost against the noise of the wind.

“I just wanted to see you.” He blinked. “I didn't mean to hurt you, I just — I just wanted to know if you —” Rand grabbed her arm, wrapping his hand around her slender wrist, her skin visible in the wide sleeves of her dress. “I know you were — they say a blade forged in Power can wound a Forsaken. That it can kill a Chosen. Moiraine hurt you, and you —” He choked a little. “You drove me out of my own dream, ripped your essence from me, and then  disappeared , Lanfear.”

He had thought she was hurt, Egwene realized, her eyes widening.

She had locked him out, prevented him from finding her, and then disappeared for six months, not showing up even once — not to him, not to anyone — and all the time, he thought she was dying .

That was why , Egwene had realized. Why his dreams were filled with her dying. With him killing her. Why she kept asking him why did you do this to me ? again and again when she died. Because he'd lured her with his words, angered her enough that she was distracted by it, then sent Moiraine to deal with her, and then regretted it — regretted it when the possibility of her dying became real, because deep down he knew that it wasn't, but then Moiraine actually hurt her and he couldn't be sure anymore — and she'd disappeared, and he was terrified that she would actually die and it would be his fault.

That he did that to her.

Killed her.

Perhaps she was , Egwene blinked.

Perhaps that, Egwene realized, was what was different about her.

In that first dream, when she'd banished him, and Egwene realized belatedly that something felt out. As if something was missing from her. Perhaps she were hurt, and he saw it, and tormented himself with the prospect of her dying, blaming himself for what might have happened and that he would not know, because she forbid him of her presence and he couldn't find her. It was complete now, Egwene realized, even if Rand were too caught in her to realize; whatever it were missing the last time, it was complete now, her aura, the power, even more noticeable, no wounds in her essence.

"I’m fine , you stubborn idiot!” Her voice had lost its softness, taking on a sharp edge. “Do you really think that what Moiraine did with that stupid sword and the Sakarnen would be enough to really hurt me?!” She had actually snorted this time. “It was a game , Rand, because I wanted to see what she could do with it; because I wanted to know how true it is what the legends say — that the Sakarnen can kill if you use it unprepared — and I obviously wasn't going to test that on me!” She growled. Egwene frowned at the words, wondering how much Moiraine knew about what she held. How aware she was of what might happen to her for using it. Whether she knew it hadn't been a battle that terrified her, but a test . “Because I wanted you to see how what you accused me to be really looks like. Because you abandoned me! ” She pressed his chin with her hand, emphasizing the word. “I’m fine! Now pull yourself together and stop calling for me in your dreams or you will pull me one of these days and actually kill me. Get over yourself and stop giving your enemies all your weaknesses, for the Light!”

She released his chin, a sudden movement, her slender fingers tracing a path in the sand between them, and then she moved her hand, threatening to disappear, and Egwene jumped slightly as Rand leaped onto the sand, gripping her tighter to hold her.

“Wait, wait! Please,” he begged, pushing the sand with his foot to stand, taking her with him, his hand clasped in hers. “Just… Let me talk to you. For a moment. Please. I just want — Let me be honest, let me —” He rubbed his forehead, letting her arm fall free between them. “I didn’t  abandoned you. Lanfear, I didn’t abandoned you. ” He had murmured, his voice so firm and strong that Egwene wondered if she had ever heard him speak in such a way; he sounded offended, she had noticed. As if the idea of ​​him abandoning her was something that disgusted him. “I can’t abandon you, you are with me all the time; in my dreams, in my head, in my heart. In me.”

“Am I? Really?” she asked, her voice suddenly sharp and precise, made to hurt. To hide, Egwene realized, the fact that his words stung. That she felt. “Am I in you, Rand?” She leaned forward, and her whisper cut through the roar of the waves, a string of soft words surely hitting home. “Which part of me?! The ones you like? Because that's it, isn’t it?! The good parts of me, those you think are white… those you let in. The rest you call a monster and push it away.”

Rand flinched as if struck, and where he stood, Egwene almost felt sorry for him. From the look that met his eyes, despair, shame, and dread flooded the blue, an anguish so poignant she could almost taste it in the air.

“I’m sorry.” He had finally whispered, something low and sincere. So sincere, that for a moment, for a second, Egwene had almost understood what he felt. She had almost hoped he would have a chance. That she wouldn’t be what she was. That she would actually love him, for real. A second and nothing more, the reality of who she was, of what she had done to her, erasing the thought. “I don’t — I don’t believe it. In that. You were right, I didn’t mean that. Not really.” Rand choked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t — I was just... so angry, you — you lied to me, hurt Egwene, tormented her, and I — I didn’t know — I don’t know — what to do with it. With how far you are willing to go.”

“Does what she feels matter more than what I do?!” The question hadn’t been a challenge, but it hadn’t sounded like a question either, Egwene realized. She hadn’t expected an answer. Egwene wondered if it was because she already knew the answer, or because she was afraid of whatever it might be. “After I showed you parts of myself no one else sees? That I don’t allow anyone else to see, not even Lews… I tried — I actually, really, tried this time, because you asked me to  — and you chose her. Instantly. Without hesitation.”

“I didn’t choose anyone!” Rand’s voice boomed, filled with anguish. “Light, Lanfear, I protected her, stood by her, because you’re a dragon and she’s an ant and it was not fair what you did! It was cruel and unnecessary and Egwene didn't deserve that, she didn't do anything against you! And you lied to me !” He let out a bitter laugh. “Again and again, every time I trust you, you lie to me and I keep believing . I keep trying, I keep hoping that for once, just once, you'll actually be honest with me! Because this, even all of this, even you torturing someone I love, doesn’t erase what I feel for you!”

"But changes it." She had snarled at him, her teeth gleaming; she almost looked like she might cry, Egwene had observed, her eyes shining with something that wasn’t anger but something much more searing. “I told you that you could show me everything. That you should give people a chance to love you and that they might not, but even if no one else did, I would love you. Not Lews, not the past, you! I would — I would abandon the Dark for you. I would break my vows for you. I would risk everything! For you! Only for you! I told you I would accept you, and you saw a part of me that didn't like it — just one part, Rand, one mask  —  and you gave up!”

Where he stood on the sand, Rand stop. Egwene had seen perfectly well the way his body had stiffened at her words, before he let out a weary, defeated sigh.

“Is that what you think?” He whispered, low and soft. “That I gave up on you?”

Her answer was harsh.

“Isn’t that what you did?” She blinked, once, twice. “Isn’t that what you did, Rand, when you set a trap for me in your dreams and used Lews's words against me? Choose the words you knew it would actually hurt and whispered them in my ear? Not once, Rand." She muttered, the words almost, almost, trembling. "I may have hurt the world, destroyed the world and haunted the people in it, and I may be cruel, as you accused me to be, and I've done things you can't even imagine it, but not once — not even once, Rand — have I hurt you. Not even when I was asked to do it, to bring you to the dark with me, mocked for lov — for you." She had murmured in what Egwene had realized had been meant as an affront, an accusation, but had sounded only like a wound. "And you set a trap to kill me.” 

The words hit him in the chest, Egwene could tell, justas well as those she had refused to say. Deep in his chest, in that space where there was a boy and not a man, where he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders and all that mattered to him — all that had ever mattered to him — was caring for and protecting those he loved.

His face contorted slightly into a grimace, a cry, and though he hadn't cried, when he spoke the words came out wet.

"Lanfear, you broke my heart."

Rand rubbed his hand over his forehead. Ashamed, Egwene knew. She'd seen the expression on his face perfectly, something ugly and hurt that was showing on his face every time he looked at her, regret curling around shame until it was so transparent that denying it would be like saying there was no sand in the desert.

A lie so absurd, not even the greatest liar would dare try to tell it.

“You don't have to hurt my body to hurt me, you never did. I — I can barely breathe." He choked on his own words. “I can barely close my eyes without seeing you. I can barely even fake. Every time I have to pretend I’m not —” Rand had stammered, stumbling over the letters. “Every time I have to pretend that I’m not in love with you — that I haven't been in love with you since the moment I saw you — it's like I'm plunging a sword into my chest. Every time someone else looks at me, that someone else touches me I want to disappear. Because it is not you and I hate that. I didn’t gave up on you, on us, I just don’t know what to do.” 

He had laughed; it had sounded more like a cry, Egwene had trembled. 

"I am drowned in you. Every part of me. Every day, every night, everything in me. But I'm just a man.” He gagged. “I’m just a man and I don't know how to make things right. How to stop hurting ourselves with words we don’t mean; how to talk, instead of going straight to hurting, every time something goes wrong. How to love you and do what I have to do. How to love you and don’t blame myself for what you do. How to stand up when you let me believe that you're honest, that you mean the words you say, and then break my heart again.” He had sobbed, and Egwene saw the tears finally run freely down his face. “No matter what I was, what fate says I am, what I need to be — I'm just a man and I — I'm so tired and that's — I just want to go back to that room in that inn and sleep until the world lets me be. Until the world lets me be with you!"

For a moment, Egwene had been unable to breathe.

The sound of his voice, raw, stripped of all defenses, struck straight at her, sinking into her chest like blades, each word a weapon, cutting her from the inside out, each syllable so full of pain that Egwene had almost forgotten to hate Lanfear. 

Almost.

“I didn’t choose anything since Moiraine showed up at that tavern in the Two Rivers,” Rand had confessed. “Even when I did, I didn’t, because I chose only the path of least pain offered to me. By the Pattern. By the Wheel. By fate. The only thing I chose…” He had whispered slowly. “The only thing I chose, since the day I accepted the Dragon, was to love you.”

The dream had stopped, the sea silently stilling, the waves no longer crashing against the rocks, washing the water toward them. In the shadows, Egwene had seen her face change, a tiny twitch, something that almost seemed like vulnerability threatening to appear in that perfect face, made of stars and power.

Then her eyes had strayed to her, to the hidden corner where her form had been disguised among the dream's lines of power, and Egwene had woken in her bed, choking on air, her hands trying to wrench the pressure away from her neck, and a frightened Elayne crying her name, looking her up and down.

"Egwene" Her hand was cold against her forehead, her eyes wide. “By the Light, what is it?! You were screaming you life out.” She forced a mug of water toward her, her fingers trembling around the material, her eyes roaming over Nynaeve, just as worried and scared, before returning to her. “Are you okay?”

Egwene gasped, trying to sit up, the sheets tangling around her trembling legs.

“It was nothing.” Egwene lied, her voice a hoarse, choked whisper. It had been much more than nothing. It had been everything, a clear warning that she was not welcome. That Lanfear had let her watch the dream until the moment she decided she no longer wanted to share it. Till the moment it became personal to her. “Just a nightmare.”

“There was — there was one of them in your dreams? A Forsaken. ” Elayne had murmured, her lips pressed tightly together. “Moiraine said that—”

Egwene had not responded, interrupting her.

“Where’s Rand?”

“... Sleeping?” Elayne raised an eyebrow, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “It’s the first time in weeks he’s actually sounded like he was sleeping through the night, actually; I can hear his footsteps on the other side.” She explained, though Egwene hadn’t asked for an explanation. She frowned slightly. “Why?”

"No reason. Just... the nightmare." Egwene shook her head, avoiding the other woman's questioning gaze. She wouldn't tell her, she decided. She wouldn't be responsible for putting that shadow of doubt and distrust in the loving eyes she held for Rand. It would be cruel. Cruel to both of them, and she was already betraying him enough by invading what she didn't deserve. "I like knowing he's okay after one of those."

Elayne leaned back in her bed, relaxing at the words.

“He’s sleeping soundly; I went — Moiraine sent me to deliver something to him.” She blinked. Egwene resisted the urge to frown; the suspicion. That feeling inside her that wondered how much of the princess’s interest in Rand had been born of its own accord, and how much had been guided, discreetly driven, by other hands. “He seems so tired lately,” Elayne had murmured, more to herself than to her. “Distant, all the time. I know… I know it’s a heavy burden he carries but I… I just wish we could help him… you know?” She shrugged. “Get him out of his own head for a bit. A little peace in all this mess.” She gave a small, shy, delighted laugh, her cheeks reddening slightly. “And, some other times, I really want to know what goes on in that head of his too."

No , Egwene thought, bitterly, you really don't want to.

Sometimes, knowing was worse than not, Egwene blinked. Seeing the innocence, the guilelessness shining in the eyes of the woman before her. Seeing the way she seemed enchanted just talking about him, without even truly having him, and knowing what he dreamed of, what he wanted for himself.

What he always saw when the crown princess of Andor would look at him with love in her eyes.

The water tasted bitter and Egwene closed her eyes for a second.

“Elayne…” Muttered. “I know you have the best intentions, but…” She paused, considering her words. “Just… be careful, okay? Rand is… complicated .”

“I know,” she whispered. “I can’t imagine what he feels. Being the Dragon must —”

“It’s not that.” Egwene interrupted, looking down at her hands, which were still trembling slightly. “It’s not just about being the Dragon. It’s… something else. Something  that he can’t — there are things about him, wounds, that we don’t see; things he hides very well. For a reason.” She blinked. “A good reason.”

Elayne was silent for a moment.

Her voice had sounded sweet when she spoke again.

“Everyone has wounds, Egwene. Rand has his, so do I. So do you. We all carry our own burden; our mistakes and regrets. But that doesn’t mean we don’t need or want companionship. That we don’t need to be loved.” She paused, and in her words, beneath the softness, Egwene saw the warrior, the ferocity; the desire and the love. The will. The passion. “Just because the world needs him, needs him and needs him to be something — to be someone — different, doesn't mean he can't need someone else. That he can't fall in love.”

Egwene's jaw clenched, wondering how she could describe what she saw in his eyes, the devotion, the love for a woman who was everything but what he needed. How she could tell her that the love she was so confidently offering was like a glass of water to a man dying of thirst in the desert, dreaming of a river. That, Egwene had realized, was why Moiraine had become so adept at twisting words to say exactly what she wanted, in so many different ways. 

To be able to tell the truth, but wrapped in a handful of lies, and lie, with nothing but the truth.

Sometimes, Egwene blinked, she truly hated Moiraine for stepping into that tavern. For dragging them out of their lives. Sometimes, not even the knowledge, that thirst she had inside her to know and the joy she felt at not only being able to touch the source, but learning more and more, seemed little compared to the price they paid.

Sometimes she hated that she was right almost all the time.

Mostly she hated it, she had blinked again, finally looking up at the woman who was watching her with calm eyes, oblivious to what was really happening to the man she had fallen in love with — that glow was going to die a little too, Egwene had realized; not even the joy that flooded the princess’s eyes when Aviendha was near could stop that — that Moiraine had been right in her words in the desert.

Sometimes the ends justified the means.

Sometimes there really was no room for guilt.

“It’s not that he doesn’t need to be loved,” she finally murmured, as the words wrapped around her, coiling until they formed the feeling she wanted to convey to the Crown Princess. A wound now, to prevent much greater destruction in the future. “It’s just that the love he wants , you won't be able to offer. You won't be able to fill that space in his heart. No one can.” She stared at her, her eyes dry, her voice firm. Unquestionable. Egwene had tried to convey some kind of comfort in her words, even though she knew they would hurt; even though she could already see the disappointment dawning in the princess's eyes, confusion and a subtle clarity slowly spreading into them “It's not that he can't fall in love, Elayne, it's just that he already is and it’s not for you.”

Elayne had slept facing the wall for the rest of the night.

Her dreams, Egwene had discovered — sometimes, she almost understood Rand. The reason he couldn't let go of his feelings for Lanfear. Power was addictive, and a habit was hard to break, becoming easier with each passing day, and being loved by her, by someone so powerful as she was, was certainly far more addictive than pursuing other people's dreams and even that , the will to just know, was hard to let go — they were almost as painful as Rand's.

Almost. 

Almost.

Few things were more painful than his dreams.

Few things, Egwene blinked and pulled herself away from her thoughts, from the torrent of memories that flooded her as she watched him scream and give in, eyes wide, except for the reality unfolding before their eyes.

She had barely seen it happen.

The Hall of the Sun was full, a final gathering before they each went their separate ways, before Rand organized himself for the next step of his journey. He looked better than he had in months, that gleam in his eyes much clearer than it had been in recent days, his shoulders much more relaxed, lighter, than she had grown accustomed to.

Egwene had avoided thinking about what might have happened in the last week for that blanket of pain to have lifted slightly from his shoulders; about what else there was in that dream and in the others that she had been forbidden to enter after that night, barred from the door of his dreams by a force she could not explain, not say if it was his or hers.

She had avoided thinking, but she still knew the answer, and when Rand had sat upon the throne and begun to speak, she had let her mind wander, wondering what awaited her in Tar Valon.

In what she herself would face now, her own fight.

Of what she had faced before and what she had learned since following him into the Aiel Desert, of the changes that had come from it and how much he had changed and the fact that, as he spoke, her mind kept wondering if she should trust what he said.

Because it hurt to know that she did not trust him anymore and she desperately, desperately, wanted to.

That was why she hadn't noticed the change in the air, the pressure, until a portal had been opened right in the middle of the hall, before Moiraine's wide eyes and in the opposite direction from Rand's throne, so much power emanating from the portal that the pressure around it had pulled part of the walls and floor with it, and a blank mass flew out of it, a body slamming hard against the stonework of the floor.

“What the fuck —” Mat screamed, his hands searching for a weapon, but Egwene hadn’t heard the answer, whatever it was, that had flowed from the lips of a Lan whose sword was already in hand.

The white dress was stained red.

It was stained by a bright, hot red, and there was black, long hair scattered across the floor.

Her name had come out of his mouth like a scream, startled and unprepared, and he was moving before Egwene could really process what was happening, shoved back by someone's hand as Rand stumbled off the throne so fast it looked like he'd flown, tripping over his own legs.

“No no no, no,” he whispered hoarsely, choking on his own words as he ran, his eyes wide, and Egwene vaguely saw his eyes widen as he crossed the distance between the throne and her body, kneeling beside her, falling so hard as he did so that Egwene actually heard something crack.

She gasped when he did, the sight so familiar now that for a second, she wondered if she were dreaming.

If she had wandered into another of his nightmares.

But the cold stone beneath her feet was real.

The smell of blood, metallic and sweet, was real.

And the way Rand was talking, his hand touching her bloodied dress and her chest with such care, such fear, that it almost seemed like he, too, was wondering if it was real, was very, very real too.

“No no no, not you, not you — fuck” He spat the word, finally clutching the stained fabric of her dress, his eyes wide with fear, desperate. “Lanfear—no— not like this, not now that I finally — oh, Light, this is real, this is real, this is real. ”

He turned her around, his arm around her shoulders, supporting her head as it rolled, languid and limp and lifeless, into the crook of his arm; his own body was shaking so violently it was a miracle he hadn't dropped her, and Egwene watched, eyes wide, as the pandemonium broke out in the hall, people beginning to murmur, recognizing the name. Those who hadn't yet encountered her, who did not knew that beautiful, beautiful face, recognizing her for who she was, questioning what he was doing.

Rand didn't even notice, his attention fixed on her.

“Don’t die in me, please.” He sobbed, his voice cracking, and where he stood, Egwene felt her chest tighten in pain. In pity. He dragged her a little closer, his palm slapping against her cheek, trying to wake her. “Lanfear, don’t you dare to die in me!” The bravery was gone as quickly as it had come, and he choked. “Not thinking that I don’t love you, please, I love you, I love you, I love you, oh, Light, I love you, please don’t do this to me.” Rand gasped, clutching her to him, pressing his lips hard against her forehead, then returning to the wound in her chest — large, Egwene realized, so large and wide, cutting through her chest, that it had to have been from something very, very powerful — trying to staunch the bleeding, trying to save her, in a tangle of limbs. “Don’t do this to me, please, oh Light, please, you can’t die without hearing me say, please, damn it, Lanfear, wake up!”

But she hadn't woken, her body hanging limp in his arms, and Egwene clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a startled sound as Mat took a step forward, trying to reach Rand, take her from his grasp, and Saidin burst free.

A wild and out of control thing.

Mat screamed as his body flew through the air, his eyes wide before he hit the wall and fell with a loud groan of pain. Egwene hadn't realized what was happening, trying to hold on against the violent wave of power threatening to bring her to her knees, until Rand took another deep breath and straightened his spine, trying to control himself, his hands open on her chest.

Trying to gain some kind of control.

The word left her lips in a terrified whisper.

“Rand, no!” 

He couldn't.

It was going to kill him, she gasped.

It would destroy him , the desperate need she could feel emanating from him, the intention, raw energy emanating from him as he gave in to the power, as he let it take over, dominate him completely, trying to force the life back into her.

Aviendha gasped behind her, her arm gripping Elayne's forearm, pulling her back. She had seen it, Egwene remembered.

She had seen something very similar once.

A red-haired child whose body the Car'a'Carn watered it with his tears, desperately trying to save her, but unable to do so. Unable to give in and give up on the world, resisting, keeping the power within him in check by something greater, even though he desperately wanted to.

“Is he trying to —?”

She had seen it, Egwene remembered, and so had she, but it was nothing, nothing like what flowed from him now, so much power, so wild, that his own body looked as if it were boiling from the inside out, his skin seeming to stretch, trying to contain it all.

Trying to support the pressure.

Hold the power.

"What…?"

“You will not die!” Rand screamed, answering the silent question a wide-eyed Elayne had begun to ask, his voice breaking between sobs, ignoring the torrent of blood that gushed from his mouth as he spoke, the price of the power he refused to release, destroying his body. “I will not let you die! Not on me, not thinking that I —  I don't allow this , you understood ?!” He snarled at her; at what was left of her. “You’re not allowed to die, you’ve never obeyed anyone in your goddamn life, I know, but don’t you dare die, Lanfear!” He choked, more blood running down his mouth, dripping onto it as he spoke, gushing out, but he held his breath and sank deeper into the power, losing himself in the power that threatened to swallow him whole, the one he’d been refusing for the past few years. The one he’d been refusing for the sake of the world. “You will not die in me!”

Where she stood, Egwene felt her hair stand on end, an icy torrent of fear descending upon her, and she took a step back. It wasn't natural, she gasped. Whatever he was trying to do, what he planned to do, it was not natural; it was… it was profane, Egwene gasped, a distortion of power and man, something he had no right to do, that none of them had any right to do.

A force that was not his to touch.

“Rand…” Lan raised his voice hesitantly, trying to force the sound against the barrier of power surrounding him, against which they could not see, but which they could   feel. The pressure. The power. That morbid, dense sensation that was beginning to surround the hall like a warning of what he was doing; of where he was daring to venture. To steal something from it. Someone. “You have to let her go…” He paused, his eyes darting and frightened to Lanfear; her face was pale, her eyes closed, blood staining her mouth. He knew it as well as she did, as well as they all did, but when he spoke, Egwene still felt a thread of dread prick her spine. “Rand… Rand, she’s dead.”

Rand didn't listen.

“Breathe!” he roared against her face, tears streaming down her face. “Lanfear, breathe! Please… please, fucking breathe…” Her chest heaved once — just air escaping, a final gasp — and Egwene bit back a sob as Rand trembled at the sound, so desperate he sounded like a wounded animal, and then buckled tighter against the power, Saidin burning in waves in the air, like a sun about to explode, burning him from the inside out, more blood gushing out of him, his body growing paler and paler the more he pulled, the more he refused to let go. “If you die, I’ll die with you.” His voice broke, rough, hoarse, but firm. Beside her, Egwene heard Elayne gasp; her face was drained of color, Egwene had noticed as she turned to look at her, her lips parted in a devastated expression, terror burning in her blue eyes. “You hear me?! If you go, I go, and I can’t — I can't die, I’m not allowed to, not now  — I'm almost there, I'm going to finish this, I'm going to tear you away from him and I'm going to — I'm going to marry you, you understand?! I'm going to marry you and spend the rest of my damn life loving you, so you can't die, not now!”

Moiraine gasped where she stood, her eyes wide, her hand trembling on the elbow of an equally wide-eyed Lan. He was going to die, Egwene had realized; she had seen the answer in the Aes Sedai's eyes when she most Saidin was released from him, the pressure forcing her to her knees.

If he continued, he would really die right there.

“Rand!” Egwene cried, trying, begging , pressing her hands against the floor to try to anchor herself. “Rand, stop! You're going to die!”

But he didn't hear her, dismissing her words with a frantic shake of his head, never taking his eyes off the woman in his arms, her words engulfed by the sounds, the shouting, around them. 

“I love you!” He sobbed, dirty fingers trembling as he lightly tapped Lanfear’s face, as if the simple caress could bring him back to life. “Light, I love you, you know I love you, please don’t die, please, please, Lanfear, let me save you this once. Just once, Light, just once, let me save her once, just one life, please.” He choked out the words. “Let me save you just once.”

Egwene felt a pang in her chest.

Rand arched his back, a growl, a scream, a roar, a mixture of all three escaping his throat, pitching forward — and saidin exploded from him in waves of white, a light so violent that for a moment, Egwene saw nothing but the glare and the power, blinding her.

The air cracked, she felt it, and her eyes widened as she finally saw it again, noticing the way the marble beneath Rand's feet had cracked with a sharp crack, lines of power snaking from it. It was like standing next to a furnace about to explode, Egwene gasped, scrambling to her knees, one step back, and then another, and another, until her back was pressed against a wall or a door, a core of power so dense and chaotic it threatened to tear the very fabric of reality.

Lanfear's body arched in Rand's arms, a spasm as her body rose into the air.

“Breathe! ” 

Moiraine moved, her hand trembling around the sword, pulled from somewhere Egwene had not noticed.

“He’s going to kill himself!” Moiraine’s voice cut through the pandemonium, sharp and clear and desperate. “He’s going to kill what’s human in him and tear the world apart with it.” She gasped. “I can’t—I can’t, I can’t let him. I can't—" She tightened her grip on her sword. "I promised — I promised him —"

“Blood and ash, are you serious —  ” Mat murmured, his face draining of any remaining color, his eyes wide as he realized what Moiraine meant by her words. What it meant to have the Dragon Reborn give in into the madness. What she would have to do. What they would have to do; to watch.“Rand, for the love of the Light, she’s gone!” Mat cried, shuffling a little closer to him. Rand looked away from him for a second, and Egwene gasped in relief as his blue eyes shone with tears; blue eyes and nothing else, not a blemish in them — not a hint of madness in those yes, just him. When he heard, while Mat spoke. “ STOP! You’re going to kill us all!” 

Mat screamed to him, dragging himself along, fighting the pressure pushing him back, to get a little closer. To make himself heard, an anchor, a remnant of the boy from Two Rivers in the madness of power. 

“I’m sorry. I'm sorry, Rand, I’m so, so sorry, but you need to stop. She's gone, you need to stop. You gotta leave her, okay? ” Mat begged, one hand almost touching him, almost overcoming that power barrier. “Just let her go, she’s gone, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but she’s gone.” He whispered, soft and sweet, careful. As if speaking to a child. To a wild animal. “She’s gone, okay?! You gotta let her go.”

Rand blinked at him.

Once, twice.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured softly, his lips stained with blood, his hand trembling as he rubbed his thumb against Lanfear’s cold forehead. Egwene didn’t try to hide her sob this time, a loud, broken sound that echoed even in the mess that had become the hall, and though it wasn’t true what they said about a heart breaking inside a body, if it were possible, Egwene gasped, hers would have broken right there. When Rand pressed his lips to her forehead, and sobbed, apologizing for something he had no control. Asking for forgiving for death. “I’m sorry.”

He muttered the words again, and Egwene struggled to her feet.

Trying to get up.

A safe haven, Moiraine had said in the desert.

A safe haven for the friend she loved most.

He whispered again, the sound stopping her where she stood, one hand pressing into the ground, the other on her shin, trying to push herself up, and Egwene looked up, wide eyes wide, disillusionment and understanding slowly beginning to overtake her.

“I’m sorry, Mat.”

Then he said the words, growled an order, the word echoing loudly in the hall, and Egwene's world stopped.

“Weave!” He ordered, his voice a rough rasp, but incredibly soft. An order and a request.  “ Weave it back. I’ll give you the thread. I’ll give you the pattern.” He leaned closer to her, his lip almost touching her ear, as if whispering a secret, though the words were loud enough to chill the air around them. “I’ll give you my heart, I’ll give you the Dragon, I give you everything, you just —”

He pressed his hand hard against her chest, and Egwene watched in horror as the light of the Power that consumed him shifted for an instant from his own body and concentrated on the point of contact between their bodies, like lightning striking a target.

A line of power, connecting his heart to hers.

“You just have to weave.” He whispered, pleaded, wept, his voice now as weak as hers. “You just have to weave. Weave it, Mierin !”

“Light protect us,” Moiraine whispered beside her, her hand shaking so badly that the sword fell with a crash, the prayer so thin and haunted, frightened, that if Egwene hadn’t understood what he’d done, she would have understood at that moment, as Moiraine pressed her trembling hands to her chest and tried not to hyperventilate. “Light, oh, Light , oh Rand — ”

Egwene clapped her hands to her mouth, sick, frightened. Terrified. Waited for the thunder to clap, for the fury of the universe to rebel against him, to exact punishment for what he had attempted.

Instead, there was a sigh.

And then, Lanfear's chest moved.

A shallow, trembling, and undeniable inspiration.

“What did he do?” Besides Egwene, Elayne made a muffled sound, a mixture of shock and terror. Elayne whispered again, her voice trembling. “Oh Lord — for the love of the Light, what did he do?”

She hadn't answered.

Moiraine's voice was the only sound in the hall as she did so.

“Something — I didn’t know was possible, it is — was erased, he shouldn't even know how —.” She said, tense, choking. “It was erased, from time, from books, from everything, so no one else would do it. Centuries ago, millennia even. It— it’s an affront to the Creator, to nature. A blasphemy.”

Aviendha gasped, her eyes widened, her hand trembling at her side.

“How?” She stammered. “I thought it wasn't possible to — I thought he couldn’t —  Alsera ?”

“That’s not — he didn't resurrect her, he — he... he bound her. Bound..." Moiraine gasped, forcing the words out. “Bound their souls, their presences in the Pattern... searched for her soul on the path of death, clinging to a thread of life, calling for her untill she answered, and stole her from it, from death, gave — gave his life to her, so —” Moiraine turned to her slowly, eyes wide. “So she might live.”

He wasn't killing himself to save her, Egwene realized.

Instead, he was condemning them both.

One heart beating in two bodies.

Mat gasped. 

“Does that mean…?” 

He had bound his life to hers, Egwene realized, trembling, undestanding the real meaning of the words, the weave behind it, what he would have had to do.

What he did. 

Bound his soul to hers, anchoring her to the earth, anchoring her in life.

“He did — he did a weave with his own life, with his own life force, and weave it to her heart. Bounded her with it, with him, so as long as he lives, she do it too.” Moiraine whispered. “That's — that's why it was forbidden. Banned. Because it alters the essence in the pattern, steals the destiny from the Wheel, tying two people together in everything: destiny, prophecies, souls, life. It's a Ta'veren.” Moiraine whispered, almost as if she were afraid to say the words. “He created a Ta'veren, weaved all his life-threads, the pattern of his life, of his purpose, around her. Forced the Wheel to keep her alive." Moiraine whispered. "Because he is needed. Because he, can't die, isn't allowed by the Wheel to die, and if one of them dies...”

Egwene felt her legs give out. 

Moiraine's voice trembled.

“And if one of them dies …”

So does the other, the thought completed itself in Egwene's mind, chilling her blood. 

"Oh, Light.”

She barely heard Nynaeve's gasp, her watery intake, the Wisdom's hand gripping Lan's forearm so tightly her knuckles were white, her eyes wide as, still holding her, Rand cried, a loud, choked cry, when Lanfear took another silent, slow breath.

Relieved.

His hand was shaking as he pushed her hair to the side, brushing the dark strands away from her face, watching as her chest rose and fell, slowly, again and again until finally, finally, Lanfear blinked, once, twice, and opened her eyes.

“Rand…?” She murmured, her voice hoarse and slurred, her eyes opening slowly, and from where she stood, Egwene saw him relax slightly at the sound, even as the world was crashing down around him. 

“Hi, lia'miren.” He whispered and his lips parted in a tearful smile, his hand trembling against her face, stroking her thin cheek gently, as her face contorted into something that almost looked like a crying grimace, her chin trembling slightly. Egwene had wondered what the words meant. What words could he say that made her want to cry at the sound. “You’re okay.” He smiled to her. “You’re okay.” He breathed, loud enough for Egwene to hear. “Oh, Light, you’re okay .”

Her face contorted slightly, a small grimace that looked like pain, but also like confusion, confusion and so much love that even Egwene had been forced to recognize what was on her face for what it was. She let out a small noise as Rand anchored her around the waist, helping her to sit on the floor, her hair carrying dust and debris in its strands; he pushed it out carefully, fingers slowly picking away some of the debris before grabbing a handful of her hair and pushing it over her shoulder, letting it fall free down her back, a contrast to the white and blood on her dress, a finger tracing the curve of her shoulder carefully.

His eyes were soft on her, gentle.

It felt more invasive to watch it — that split of a second — than everything she had saw of them in his dreams. 

Even so, Egwene didn't dare to look away as Rand adjusted himself on the floor, sitting up and stretching his legs out in what must have been a clear invitation, and she slumped, resting slightly against his chest, one hand resting on his thigh as she blinked, once, twice.

Then her hand flew to her chest, over her heart, all at once, her face lifting and turning slightly to the side, to him, and she saw him — really saw him, the sweat dripping from his head, from his hair, wet as if he had been in the rain, the blood staining his lips and the paleness of his face — and recognition descended upon her as the sound beneath her hand became clear — familiar, so familiar.

Her eyes widened at him.

"What in the Light did you do?!"