Leashed

[AddiBeth]

Much like life in the White Tower, life at the Academy fell into a rhythm.  Waking meant breakfast; Estel wondered if Maegan was giving the cook orders to get her back to a healthy weight, it seemed like her meals were impossibly huge for a single person.  Progress was progress.  Following lunch, she and Maegan would meet in the gardens to train.

 

Considering the Red’s minimal ability with Healing, bruises covered Estel’s body.  Every muscle hurt and she was pretty sure three or four of her fingers were broken.  Since they’d only been at it a little over two weeks, there hadn’t been any noticeable changes in her physique; however, she did find herself snapping at fewer of the acolytes—not that she wanted to any less, she simply decided against it sometimes.  It was ironic that this change in behaviour should be affected by a Red Sister when the entire Blue Ajah had failed.  Estel imagined the expression on Corrine’dei’s face when this became apparent.

 

Would these changes endure her return to the White Tower?  It was far easier to bite her tongue around acolytes that were terrified of her and did their best to avoid her, it was more difficult to remain calm around Aes Sedai who believed her unfit for the shawl and went out of their way to provoke her.  For Estel, the Academy stood for healing and sanctuary; the White Tower, for everything that had gone wrong in her life.  Maegan did her best to provide adequate pressure during their training sessions, but at the end of the day, Estel knew the Red didn’t mean any of the things she said—the other women in the Tower would.

 

For these reasons, the Blue avoided the subject of her return to Tar Valon.  A century’s worth of damage couldn’t be healed in just over a month, they needed more time!  She needed to know she wouldn’t relapse to her former self moments after the Gateway closed.  She needed to know that when she draped the blue shawl over her shoulders again, it wouldn’t still feel undeserved.

 

Estel remembered feeling all these things holding Faerthines in her arms.  The memory of her hatred for Sheena because the woman was a living reminder of the Tower’s inescapability was poignant mostly because she couldn’t help but feel the same towards Maegan.  Sheena had come to tear her away from the family she’d had for a few months in Bandar Eban, Maegan was a constant reminder that she couldn’t hide forever. 

 

Again and again Estel explored the option of never returning.  Where would she go?  What would she do?  The terrible answer was that there was no place to go and nothing to do.  Every member of her family was dead, leaving her estate a hollow memory of a short but happy time in her life.  As a Blue Sister for so long, she couldn’t live a purposeless life, away from the White Tower she had none.  Even in Cairhien Tar Valon cast a Shadow and it would should she go to Arad Doman or even ran away to Shara.  Estel Liones was an Aes Sedai because of more than just oaths bound with saidar, she was Aes Sedai because the White Tower had set her apart; it hadn’t let her age while the world spun around her, it gave her abilities and with those came duty, it had taken so much that she no longer had anything left but that cursed spire.

 

With every day that passed, Tar Valon seemed to creep closer, its shadow darkening her mood.  This was wreaking havoc with her training.  She was “sparring” with Maegan when one of the woman’s comments about never being ready hit too close to home and Estel’s concentration disintegrated.  Frustrated, she threw the staff to the ground and stalked off.

 

 

It was the air the set the day apart from the others. Perhaps it was the brushing of air that pulled at the stands of hair as Estel turned and stalked away from their practice. Holding up a hand to block the sun’s rays from her sensitive eyes, Maegan leaned the practice sword against her body and retrieved her spectacles from her pocket and then watched where Estel retreated. At first she was unsure as to why Estel left, although it was not the first time that she had done some during practice; but somehow today just seemed different as it was certainly a peculiarly different form of the woman's temper Maegan was seeing. When frustrated on anything Estel stalked. A peculiar habit, but still one that Maegan regarded with a passive look. It certainly did none any particular favours to add to the woman's frustration.

 

In turn it was possible that that was how the woman originally became so abused. How can one control their temper when one wasn't given the necessary time to work through the issues that were causing the irritation?

 

Picking up her practice sword, she headed in the direction that Estel left hoping to come across the woman in perhaps better graces. Question was, would a gentle hand or a firm hand or an angry hand be more beneficial? They were on practice time and Estel needed to understand that just because she was being yelled at did not mean she should yell in return. Not that Maegan would be able to teach the other woman this in once short month. It was certainly worth a better habit than what was currently in use. Striking and yelling got no one anywhere and people lose respect for the Aes Sedai that raises their voice.

 

When Maegan found Estel, she opted for the “lead by example” method. With a steady firm voice she asked, “Troubled thoughts, Estel? I know it wasn’t the practice, you left far too soon to simply be giving up on the lesson.”

 

 

Head in hands, fingernails digging into her scalp: Estel sat on a bench, muttering to herself.  At what point would she learn to control herself?  At what point could she finally distance herself far enough from her emotions that throwing tantrums and stalking off were no longer daily occurrences?  Wasn’t that what Maegan was trying to teach her, control?  Yet, every time the smallest thing irked her, Estel went storming away from the lessons designed to keep this from happening.  Furious with herself, she pounded her fist into the stone of the bench.

 

Maegan’s voice came from behind her.  No mocking: a welcome respite from the usual response to her outbursts—the deserved response for her outbursts.  The questions had simple enough answers, but trust and shame refused to allow simple admission.  “When you stand and look at Tar Valon from a distance, what do you think?  Are you proud of the White Tower’s strength; one of the oldest, tallest buildings of the world.  Do you think about the centuries’ worth of wisdom inside, or the political power it wields?

 

“It was just after I escaped from Watchers.  I woke up, Bond’s Ged having snapped, I...  Light, I still remember what it felt like when his hand was cut off.  After a few minutes, I finally realised there was no long anything stopping me from leaving, so I stumbled to my feet and wove a Gateway.

 

“I was standing on the banks of the Erinin, looking up at it.  All I could feel was anger, hatred.  I went back because of duty, not because the Tar Valon is home or because I feel safe there.  I traded one form of captivity for another; the White Tower is as much my prison as was the Black Tower.

 

“I don’t want to go back.”

[Arie]

Her fists were clenched to her sides; Maegan slowly released them as a suppressed anger washed over her. She was not prone to anger, not like this, yet there were aspect of her own life that she wished to express as openly as Estel. To just say that she had no desire to return to the Tower, to face the life of a Sister—an Ajah Head!—but to live the simple life of the Academy.

 

It had been ninety years ago in the White Tower. There was a bitter taste in the Highest's mouth as she sat in her leather chair deep within the Rose Quarters of the Red Ajah. The large mahogany desk dominated the small study room. It was covered with countless notions, gadgets and articles of little importance, yet she none of it could hold her interest. It all seemed insubstantial compared to the grand scheme of things, and in the end the shawl on her shoulders was left feeling more like a nuisance than a burden to take pride in; even the walls which paraded novellas, journals, and other great works that pieced together the vast tapestry of history seemed shallow and of little value.

 

::Why am I here?::

 

It was a question that seemed hollower than it should. Too many were missing in this place. Maegan no longer felt at home here now that so many people that she had held dear had deserted her for the Creator's hand. She could not blame him for his desire to hold them. They were all amazing women of unparalleled resolve. Maegan could not help but feel cheated in these threads that were woven around her. But as she sat there she could feel her life being measured, and she had little doubt that she would be found wanting.

 

"The Wheel weaves as the Wheel Wills." She had thought bitterly as she placed the quill in her hand neatly on the desk, taking care to line it up perfectly with the pile of papers that had been left on her desk. Countless letters, statistics and the designs for various projects filled up more than three-quarters of her room, yet she failed to see the purpose of it all. Little she did ever offer up real results. Even the odd ter'angreal that she had spent years designing seemed worthless to her.

 

The worst part of it all, which inevitably had made Maegan feel guilty all over, was that, despite everything that was occurring she could not bring herself to care one way or the other about to the future of the White Tower. This very thought should evoke something greater than the bitterness she felt, but it did not. Instead it was crowding her vision, blocking out the whole of her resolve. And so Maegan had questioned her very existence.

 

Why was the Tower so important to her?

 

Why should the Tower become important again to Estel?

 

"Would it surprise you if I said that I did not wish to return either?" Maegan could feel the surprise in Estel's eyes as she stood there staring out past the bench and into the makeshift Grove. The sun was warm in this place, warmer than what the weather should normally have been in this area, yet it barely touch her as her arms were brought across her chest as if to hold herself from the demons within.

 

"I would love for nothing more than to bury myself into this place, this project-in-hiding. Far from the influence of the Tower, this place is virtually perfect. There is no discrimination, and worth is dealt with a fair hand and the opportunities are not limited to the gifted, or those of political advancement. Time has a completely new meaning here. You look around, men and women both more mortal than we find more value in their lives than the whole of the White Tower.

 

"There is something wrong with the Tower, there is a great deal of things wrong with it, and as much as I would love to turn my back on them, I can't. They refuse to allow women of the Tower to give birth and yet each year our numbers dwindle as we have suck dry the very bread of our numbers. With the numbers we have, we shelter them to the so-called truth of the Tower, denying the very existence of the world and then expect them to make “worldly” decisions as they make their way into a world that is vastly different than the one that we pulled them from.

 

"Furthermore, women that don't reach the standard are thrown out of the Tower with scant so much as a year’s pay and expected to survive in a world that we sheltered them from. The Tower tests loyalty and strength, and yet fails to instil these very things towards the true meaning of being Aes Sedai. A Servant of All. Instead we are all equally brainwashed to simply obey without question. Our loyalty to the will of the Sisters we then place above us.

 

"We placed Sirayn on the Amyrlin Seat, I did. Jaydena, all of the Hall placed her there and with that came our unquestionable loyalty. Where were her ethics, her ability to build a solid more unified Tower? Not in the Tower but all for the glory of Sirayn Sedai. Then there was Lanfir who thwarted the whole of the Hall by choosing her own Keeper. Perhaps I cannot help but feel proud of the Green for choosing of her own free will, and yet had she chosen better could have avoided the hatred that split the hall for years after.

 

"That is simply within the Halls, but look outside. With the fall of Tear and the Banner of the Dragon Reborn sailing high, people are now looking for something to hope for, a role model to show them the path for tomorrow. Were I them and did not know what was behind the walls of the Tower I certainly wouldn't follow a woman that claimed she was Aes Sedai. Knowing what I do? I don't think I could live with myself knowing all the wrong the Tower has wrought for the glory of the Tower. We are no better than the Children in our quest for procuring power and absolute sovereignty."

 

The words flew out of her mouth as the memory of Lillian became so vivid in her mind, and the words of her paper had changed so much of how she responded to the Tower. She shamed herself in how little she had done, and yet at the same time Maegan held more friendships outside her own Ajah than with in it, if only in hopes of breaking apart some of the misconceptions of the Red Ajah.

 

"Why go back? Because if I don't try to change things, if we don't ... who will?"

 

 

Did it surprise Estel that Maegan didn’t want to return either?  Hell yes.  In theory, she wasn’t the only Aes Sedai who faced self-doubt, guilt over the abandonment of her family, and abuse at the hands of other Sisters, but few in the White Tower dared vocalise these for the sake of “Aes Sedai decorum”.  Their lack of empathy, even condescension of her public displays of emotion, had isolated Estel until she felt the only person to deal with the issues.  Never once had she heard a Sister dare mention disillusionment with the White Tower—even Lillian who had written her paper criticising the Tower’s practices had never mentioned a lack of faith.

 

“How would I even start to change anything?  I’m nothing more than a kicked dog returning to its master, resigned to the abuse and the rest of the Tower knows it.  There isn’t a person there who would listen to me.  I’ve spent so long rebelling against every mode of control they’ve subjected me to but I’ve never once affected change—not that I’ve tried, I suppose.  I’m not a leader.

 

“I’ll go back, tail between my legs, like a good dog, but I don’t know how to change anything there—I’ve hardly been able to change myself.”

 

 

Maegan chuckled. "You might not see yourself as much of a leader, but I can't see you as a dog either." Moving to the other side of Estel she took a seat beside the taller woman and with a hand lifted her chin like one friend passing strength to another. "You are a woman. You are a Liones. You are Estel, Aes Sedai and Mother, twice Bonded and the creator of your own path. You, Estel, answer to no one but you. Some may try to direct your path, control your life but none of them will control your faith, your heart and your destiny. Know that you are a dog to no one." There was a very serious note to her eyes in spite of the slight over exaggerated proclamation to her voice.

 

"And should I hear you call yourself a dog again I hope I will see a studded collar around your neck and both your hands and feet scurrying on the floor. Despite what you think, not once did you choose your path without digging in your heels. Even if you did what they wanted, they had to fight you for it. Make them fight, Estel. Just don't let them win. You are worth more than that. I know you are."

 

 

When was the last time anyone had shown this much faith in her, let alone put it into words?  By the end of his life, Orion had been as accepting of her fate as she.  Ever the shoulder to cry on and ever the hand stopping the knife across her wrists but her Warder had been stoic at twenty and had only become more so as the years had worn on; words had never been their main mode of communication considering the Bond.  He had never doubted her, it was his duty not to, but he had never once pushed her to fight for some other existence than the one she had resigned herself to.

 

The collar: ever the metaphor for her relationship with Sirayn—Sirayn sitting atop the Amyrlin Seat, throwing the scrap of forgiveness to Estel who pleaded on the floor.  The master was gone, but had she shaken the collar?  She’d still felt alive as she’d fought the leash, ever as it strangled her; never more dead than the day she simply accepted it.

 

Estel the Accepted had never let anyone kick her without retribution, whatever the consequences.  Estel the Accepted had been respected.  Estel the Accepted had been alive.  Was there still some of the girl left in her?  Anger, hatred, the need to finally prove herself anything but a failure: the same emotions that had driven her all along.  Could they still burn away the resignation and shame?  She still had the strength for one last push—succeed or die trying.

 

She said nothing but nodded.

 

 

"I believe in you, Estel. I'll always be there, no matter what. Alright?"

 

 

She’d heard that before.  Carise had said much the same hours before leaving the Tower, abandoning a lost Novice to the wolves.  Estel hadn’t been the same by the time Carise returned.  Nevertheless, none had gone to the lengths Maegan had to rebuild her.  There had been no cruel words, no disappointment, no judgement; it did not fit her version of humanity—it didn’t even fit how she saw herself.

 

Confused and doubtful but moved nonetheless, Estel could find no response except to nod.  After a few minutes in silence, there was only one question left.  “So how long before we leave, then?” spoken with too many emotions to name: resigned, bitter, hopeful, a spark of an old flame still flickering.

 

 

Maegan looked thoughtful as she internally debated the answer. Estel could pick any time to go back but in a way she was either hoping Maegan would let her pick or that Maegan would make the decision for her. Either way it needed to be soon because she still needed to help the Reds prepare for the Black Tower and she wasn't entirely sure what the state her Ajah was in. Annais forced her to leave too quickly and with Estel in her possession it would be a very poor move to return without the Blue—political suicide that Maegan dared not risk after blackmailing her best friend.

 

Blackmail. The Shadow should have her soul for it. Maegan only could pray that Annais would at least look at her again, as she doubted there would be no hope for forgiveness. At least not for a great many years knowing Annais.

 

Looking to Estel, Maegan made her decision. "A week from now, maybe. Two weeks at most I think. Two weeks would give us just a little over a month here. A month away so soon after our last adventure might cause more harm than good. How do you feel about that?"

 

 

Estel smiled weakly, emotions still confused over their imminent return.  “Two weeks sounds good to me.  I suppose we should get back to work then.” she said, standing and heading back towards the practice area.  Escape the nervous flutters in her stomach.

 

 

 

Estel Liones  &  Maegan Ryanne