After reading the second book, I always wondered, "What if Nynaeve had stayed in the ter'angreal?" If you've read a story like this before, well, I didn't copy or anything.
I don't own any characters or objects from WOT. So there.
Chapter 1- An Almost Memory
Nynaeve stood on the balcony, her blue robe brushing against her skin as it shifted in the wind. The silk felt wondrously good on her flesh. Her eyes closed as she felt the hand on her shoulder.
"The dreams again?" Lan's deep voice was comforting.
She nodded without turning around. "Lan, do you ever dream of Moiraine?"
"More often than I would like."
Nynaeve hesitated. She had never told Lan about the dreams, but he had figured out what was troubling her on his own. "I keep dreaming of Egwene, and Mat and Perrin. But I always dream of Rand. Every day for at least a year now. Longer. I don't know why. I always dream of Rand."
"What do you think it could mean?" Lan wrapped his arms around her.
"I think they are in trouble," she whispered. "But I don't know how that could be. They announced when they gentled Rand three years ago. He is not in danger of channeling any longer. The others must have returned to Emond's Field, except Egwene. She would be safe in the White Tower. I don't know what is wrong with me."
Lan spun her to face him. His eyes, once colder than death, now were full of love. He lifted the heavy ring of Malkier from her chest for a moment. "I would not pledge my life to a woman if I thought she was not worthy. Nothing is wrong with you."
Nynaeve searched his eyes, but read nothing in them. Sighing slowly, she leaned into his arms, pressing her face to his chest. He kissed the top of her head gently. "Lan, what would I do without you?" She knew she wouldn't.
"I could not say. But perhaps I should have breakfast brought for us?"
"Yes." When Lan led her by the waist into their room, she found that their breakfast was already there. She smiled at her husbands ability to always be one step ahead. He must have ordered breakfast the moment he woke up and found the bed empty beside him. He had done so every time he woke to find her gone. She should have known, but she was distracted. The dreams had been worse this time.
They were always hazy. She only remembered the faces, but the things people did or said faded from her mind the moment she awoke. This time, she remembered images of danger and chains. She shuddered involuntarily.
"Are you cold?" Lan asked.
"No, husband. I am fine." Nynaeve lowered herself into the chair he pulled out for her. Their faces twisted in pain, each crying, "Help!" as they faded into mist. A face with fire cracking behind the eyes had laughed as each of them was tortured, running from danger. Laughed as only evil would, or could. And Lan. Lan's face, distorted with rage and pain. Nynaeve bit her lip to keep from crying out.
In an attempt to hide her unmerited concern, she raised her cup of tea to her lips. Lan stared at her intently. "Sometimes dreams can show us things in reality. Even if you do not like them, you cannot dismiss them. They mean more than we know."
Nynaeve tried to glare at him, but far from succeeded. The images from her dream were too fresh in her mind. Lan chewed slowly. Nynaeve wondered for the millionth time why they always had to sit at opposite ends of the table.
"Mother?" Maric said as he poked his head into their room. "Ah, there you are. Father told me to come back a few minutes later when I came to look in a few minutes ago. I am planning to ride out to the lake today. May I take Rescir with me?" Maric had grown into a handsome, tall sixteen, and Rescir, Nynaeve's youngest child, was almost nine years old. He looked up to Maric the way Elnore looked up to her.
"Which lake?" Nynaeve asked. Maric had once gone out to the Great Feldor Lake unaccompanied, and when she had chastised him later, he had said simply, "You said I could go to the lake." She was always careful to ask exactly where her children went.
"Oh, don't worry, Mother," Maric said lightly. "We'll be at Lake Noiell, and I promise we will not go to any other lake."
Nynaeve smiled slightly as she nodded. Maric kissed her cheek and greeted his father before racing off. Lan and Nynaeve admired his persistence. No matter how much they taught Rescir, Maric always tried to make him do exactly what he himself had done at his age. (a/n. that sentence is kind of confusing, but I didn't know any other way to write it. It's late, don't kill me.)
Elnore walked by, trailing thoughtfully behind Sharina, the resident Aes Sedai. Elnore was now Accepted for two years, and Sharina had asked the Amyrlin to "borrow" Elnore for a special project. Nynaeve got up from her barely touched breakfast and walked back out to the balcony.
Peering down into the gardens, Nynaeve noticed a strange shimmer among the roses. The few guards who passed did not appear to see it, or their swords would have been out in a fraction of a flash. But it was there, distinct though faint. It was just barely there, she relented, but constant, and most definitely real.
Seeing Sharina had stirred up some strange memories, and this strange silver shimmer brought more bubbling to the surface. Memories of when she had seen a silver arch.
* "Not this," she said. "I cannot face this. Anything but this."*
Why would she have said that? She put that day from her mind, usually, but she could not push it back this time. She remembered. She glanced at Lan. She knew he remembered, too, though he never spoke of it.
* When she opened her eyes, the arch was gone…* What was the purpose of that arch? She thought she should know, but she could not remember. Did it matter? She had lived happily without that knowledge for eight years. Longer, for that matter, but eight years since she had seen the silver arch.
And then another memory. It was a faint picture, as though it had not really happened, or it had happened to someone else…
* Lan's voice slid across her concentration; she refused to let herself hear it. There had to be a way back still. Staring at where the silver arch had been, she tried to find some trace of it. There was nothing.
"Nynaeve…"
She tried to picture the arch in her mind, to shape it and form it to the last detail, curve of gleaming metal filled with a glow like snowy fire. It seemed to waver there, in front of her, first there between her and the trees, then not, then there.
"…I love you…"
She drew at saidar-*
Nynaeve started out of her reverie. She had never learned to channel. Sharina Sedai had discovered her ability after she married Lan, but she had never learned to control it… She heard Lan drop his clothes on the floor inside and pull fresh garments out of the wardrobe.
*…The flickering arch firmed, steadied, stood whole before her. Fire and pain seemed to fill her; her bones felt as if thery were burning; her skull seemed a roaring furnace.
"…with all my heart."
She ran toward the silver curve, not letting herself look back. She had been sure the bitterest thing she would ever hear was Marin al'Vere's cry for help as Nynaeve abandoned her, but-*
When had she abandoned Marin al'Vere? Would she have done such a thing? Yet it was included in the memory. She did not want to go on, but the memory forced itself on her.
*-that was honey beside the sound of Lan's anguished voice pursuing her. "Nynaeve, please don't leave me."
The white glow consumed her.*
She gasped as a black wall slammed itself between her mind and the images plaguing her. She almost remembered- but it was not enough.
The silver shimmer was solidifying as she watched it. Still none of the guards could see. They seemed to look right through it.
As quickly as she could, Nynaeve changed into one of her more simple dresses. It was blue silk, with an interestingly curved neckline, embroidered in tiny white rosebuds with green vines along the neck and down the sleeves. The skirts were also embroidered, with sinuous lines of green. The stems on the skirt boasted miniscule thorns.
Lan asked her what was wrong. Nynaeve told him nothing. She took nothing with her but her dark cloak. It seemed to shift color sometimes, but that was only the ingenious way it had been woven. Nothing like Lan's warder cloak, which he never wore.
He followed her down into the garden. "Nynaeve, what is wrong?" he asked again. She did not turn around. When she reached the silver shimmer, it had turned into a silver arch. She almost remembered, but it was not enough.
"Tell me what is the matter." Lan took her arm in a strong hand. Nynaeve looked into his eyes one last time. They were desperate. She knew the tears welling up in her own eyes would not help.
"I have to know," she said simply, and turned away. With a deep breath, she took another step toward the arch.
"Nynaeve…"
She wanted to shut out his voice. The pain she heard made her wince inwardly, but on the outside, she was as steadfast as a Queen of Malkier had ever been. Morgase would even have envied her calm appearance.
"…I love you…"
But on the inside, her heart, soul, and spirit were crumbling. And she had thought the not-quite-memory had been bad. If Marin al'Vere's cries were honey compared to that, then that was rapture compared to the act of leaving Lan.
"…with all my heart."
It was beyond her control. The tears spilled over as she stepped through the arch.
End Chapter 1
*sigh of relief*. That took a long time. I've been thinking about this for a while now. I finally got to finish it!!! Any suggestions or corrections of the actual story, I would appreciate. It's been a while since I read all the books. Oh, and if anyone could tell me the name of the male a'dam (if it has one) and describe it to me (I forgot which book it was in, so can't go look it up) I would love you forever. Not in a creepy way though. Ahem.
If you got this far, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks. ;)
I don't own any characters or objects from WOT. So there.
Chapter 1- An Almost Memory
Nynaeve stood on the balcony, her blue robe brushing against her skin as it shifted in the wind. The silk felt wondrously good on her flesh. Her eyes closed as she felt the hand on her shoulder.
"The dreams again?" Lan's deep voice was comforting.
She nodded without turning around. "Lan, do you ever dream of Moiraine?"
"More often than I would like."
Nynaeve hesitated. She had never told Lan about the dreams, but he had figured out what was troubling her on his own. "I keep dreaming of Egwene, and Mat and Perrin. But I always dream of Rand. Every day for at least a year now. Longer. I don't know why. I always dream of Rand."
"What do you think it could mean?" Lan wrapped his arms around her.
"I think they are in trouble," she whispered. "But I don't know how that could be. They announced when they gentled Rand three years ago. He is not in danger of channeling any longer. The others must have returned to Emond's Field, except Egwene. She would be safe in the White Tower. I don't know what is wrong with me."
Lan spun her to face him. His eyes, once colder than death, now were full of love. He lifted the heavy ring of Malkier from her chest for a moment. "I would not pledge my life to a woman if I thought she was not worthy. Nothing is wrong with you."
Nynaeve searched his eyes, but read nothing in them. Sighing slowly, she leaned into his arms, pressing her face to his chest. He kissed the top of her head gently. "Lan, what would I do without you?" She knew she wouldn't.
"I could not say. But perhaps I should have breakfast brought for us?"
"Yes." When Lan led her by the waist into their room, she found that their breakfast was already there. She smiled at her husbands ability to always be one step ahead. He must have ordered breakfast the moment he woke up and found the bed empty beside him. He had done so every time he woke to find her gone. She should have known, but she was distracted. The dreams had been worse this time.
They were always hazy. She only remembered the faces, but the things people did or said faded from her mind the moment she awoke. This time, she remembered images of danger and chains. She shuddered involuntarily.
"Are you cold?" Lan asked.
"No, husband. I am fine." Nynaeve lowered herself into the chair he pulled out for her. Their faces twisted in pain, each crying, "Help!" as they faded into mist. A face with fire cracking behind the eyes had laughed as each of them was tortured, running from danger. Laughed as only evil would, or could. And Lan. Lan's face, distorted with rage and pain. Nynaeve bit her lip to keep from crying out.
In an attempt to hide her unmerited concern, she raised her cup of tea to her lips. Lan stared at her intently. "Sometimes dreams can show us things in reality. Even if you do not like them, you cannot dismiss them. They mean more than we know."
Nynaeve tried to glare at him, but far from succeeded. The images from her dream were too fresh in her mind. Lan chewed slowly. Nynaeve wondered for the millionth time why they always had to sit at opposite ends of the table.
"Mother?" Maric said as he poked his head into their room. "Ah, there you are. Father told me to come back a few minutes later when I came to look in a few minutes ago. I am planning to ride out to the lake today. May I take Rescir with me?" Maric had grown into a handsome, tall sixteen, and Rescir, Nynaeve's youngest child, was almost nine years old. He looked up to Maric the way Elnore looked up to her.
"Which lake?" Nynaeve asked. Maric had once gone out to the Great Feldor Lake unaccompanied, and when she had chastised him later, he had said simply, "You said I could go to the lake." She was always careful to ask exactly where her children went.
"Oh, don't worry, Mother," Maric said lightly. "We'll be at Lake Noiell, and I promise we will not go to any other lake."
Nynaeve smiled slightly as she nodded. Maric kissed her cheek and greeted his father before racing off. Lan and Nynaeve admired his persistence. No matter how much they taught Rescir, Maric always tried to make him do exactly what he himself had done at his age. (a/n. that sentence is kind of confusing, but I didn't know any other way to write it. It's late, don't kill me.)
Elnore walked by, trailing thoughtfully behind Sharina, the resident Aes Sedai. Elnore was now Accepted for two years, and Sharina had asked the Amyrlin to "borrow" Elnore for a special project. Nynaeve got up from her barely touched breakfast and walked back out to the balcony.
Peering down into the gardens, Nynaeve noticed a strange shimmer among the roses. The few guards who passed did not appear to see it, or their swords would have been out in a fraction of a flash. But it was there, distinct though faint. It was just barely there, she relented, but constant, and most definitely real.
Seeing Sharina had stirred up some strange memories, and this strange silver shimmer brought more bubbling to the surface. Memories of when she had seen a silver arch.
* "Not this," she said. "I cannot face this. Anything but this."*
Why would she have said that? She put that day from her mind, usually, but she could not push it back this time. She remembered. She glanced at Lan. She knew he remembered, too, though he never spoke of it.
* When she opened her eyes, the arch was gone…* What was the purpose of that arch? She thought she should know, but she could not remember. Did it matter? She had lived happily without that knowledge for eight years. Longer, for that matter, but eight years since she had seen the silver arch.
And then another memory. It was a faint picture, as though it had not really happened, or it had happened to someone else…
* Lan's voice slid across her concentration; she refused to let herself hear it. There had to be a way back still. Staring at where the silver arch had been, she tried to find some trace of it. There was nothing.
"Nynaeve…"
She tried to picture the arch in her mind, to shape it and form it to the last detail, curve of gleaming metal filled with a glow like snowy fire. It seemed to waver there, in front of her, first there between her and the trees, then not, then there.
"…I love you…"
She drew at saidar-*
Nynaeve started out of her reverie. She had never learned to channel. Sharina Sedai had discovered her ability after she married Lan, but she had never learned to control it… She heard Lan drop his clothes on the floor inside and pull fresh garments out of the wardrobe.
*…The flickering arch firmed, steadied, stood whole before her. Fire and pain seemed to fill her; her bones felt as if thery were burning; her skull seemed a roaring furnace.
"…with all my heart."
She ran toward the silver curve, not letting herself look back. She had been sure the bitterest thing she would ever hear was Marin al'Vere's cry for help as Nynaeve abandoned her, but-*
When had she abandoned Marin al'Vere? Would she have done such a thing? Yet it was included in the memory. She did not want to go on, but the memory forced itself on her.
*-that was honey beside the sound of Lan's anguished voice pursuing her. "Nynaeve, please don't leave me."
The white glow consumed her.*
She gasped as a black wall slammed itself between her mind and the images plaguing her. She almost remembered- but it was not enough.
The silver shimmer was solidifying as she watched it. Still none of the guards could see. They seemed to look right through it.
As quickly as she could, Nynaeve changed into one of her more simple dresses. It was blue silk, with an interestingly curved neckline, embroidered in tiny white rosebuds with green vines along the neck and down the sleeves. The skirts were also embroidered, with sinuous lines of green. The stems on the skirt boasted miniscule thorns.
Lan asked her what was wrong. Nynaeve told him nothing. She took nothing with her but her dark cloak. It seemed to shift color sometimes, but that was only the ingenious way it had been woven. Nothing like Lan's warder cloak, which he never wore.
He followed her down into the garden. "Nynaeve, what is wrong?" he asked again. She did not turn around. When she reached the silver shimmer, it had turned into a silver arch. She almost remembered, but it was not enough.
"Tell me what is the matter." Lan took her arm in a strong hand. Nynaeve looked into his eyes one last time. They were desperate. She knew the tears welling up in her own eyes would not help.
"I have to know," she said simply, and turned away. With a deep breath, she took another step toward the arch.
"Nynaeve…"
She wanted to shut out his voice. The pain she heard made her wince inwardly, but on the outside, she was as steadfast as a Queen of Malkier had ever been. Morgase would even have envied her calm appearance.
"…I love you…"
But on the inside, her heart, soul, and spirit were crumbling. And she had thought the not-quite-memory had been bad. If Marin al'Vere's cries were honey compared to that, then that was rapture compared to the act of leaving Lan.
"…with all my heart."
It was beyond her control. The tears spilled over as she stepped through the arch.
End Chapter 1
*sigh of relief*. That took a long time. I've been thinking about this for a while now. I finally got to finish it!!! Any suggestions or corrections of the actual story, I would appreciate. It's been a while since I read all the books. Oh, and if anyone could tell me the name of the male a'dam (if it has one) and describe it to me (I forgot which book it was in, so can't go look it up) I would love you forever. Not in a creepy way though. Ahem.
If you got this far, PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Thanks. ;)