On with the dreams [attn. James]

[silhouette]

Days had passed, and Nyssa found herself unable to decide what to do. She had left Lanfir Leah on the top of Kinslayer’s Dagger, where it was up to her and her precious creator to decide whether she lived or died. After that she had returned home. Not to the White Tower, which had never been any more than an empty shell to her. A place to do what she did best. Mayene then, where here roots were? How long had it been since her mother died? Her youngest brother? When had she last seen her surviving relatives? It meant little to her. She went home, to the mansion in Tear. It was cold now, at the beginning of winter. Not that it snowed here, this far away from what the Aes Sedai called the centre of power.

 

The truth was that Nyssa was tired of it all. Tar Valon, the White Tower… What purpose did she have there now that Lanfir Leah was gone. For that had been her greatest accomplishment, to get under the skin of the Amyrlin Seat. To be the one whispering dark things into her ear. Only to have it all torn to shreds by Caladesh. Ordered dead by the Black Ajah, killed by the Amyrlin Seat. Nyssa would have killed him herself, if Lanfir hadn’t gotten there first. All her work. How many years now? It mattered little. It was over. Had been over since the moment Caladesh tore his way into the White Tower.

 

She was quite sure that the Surpreme Council wandered where she was. Along with her Ajah. Her ‘sisters’. She found she missed none of them. She found she didn’t miss much out of her old existence at all. Lately she’d found herself dreaming of the time she spent at the Fortress. The centre of power, as far as the Shadow concerned. She’d dreamt of Rasputin, Tom, Julie and even Michael, whom she hadn’t dreamt of since she last looked at his dreams. Strange dreams, with little meaning to her, but they were there none the less.

 

She wasn’t a dreamer though, and she sought nothing in these. No more than she did in dreams she had when she was still in the White Tower. Sometimes she wondered on how the chaos was progressing in the White Tower. No doubt her sisters were handling that. The Black Ajah was capable like that. None of that actually inspired Nyssa to go back. No, she felt at place where she was now. So days went by, with her staring out the window and waiting for a sign from either the Great Lord of the Dark, or the Creator. She had little faith in the existence of such signs though.

 

~Nyssa Deschain

Greater Dreadlady

[Wayfarer]

There was something to be said for the odd trip. Usually Michael objected to any sort of travel from the Fortress, but a rather strange opportunity had come up. And by opportunity, Michael meant an assignment which he couldn't say no to because when Rasputin gave an order he followed it, that was his duty. Nyssa Deschain had gone missing, apparently the Black Ajah had no idea where she was and Rasputin had wanted him to search her manor in Tear to see if there was any sign of her. Of course, that meant the walking and such, but on this odd occasion he felt like it.

 

That was to say, he had an ulterior motive. He'd found himself thinking of her of late, she seemed to be on the mind. Even in his dreams she had made an appearance a few times. Memories of when he'd led her around to Fortress, in the library and such. The first time she and Julie had met, and the doom it had spelled him for the rest of the time the pair had both been there. He'd never been entirely certain of it, but he was almost sure that Nyssa had played with his dreams. He never had nightmares, yet during the week he'd had a couple of bad ones which had left him in a cold sweat. Not that Nyssa had claimed such a thing, but she had always seemed a little happier the mornings after his nightmares.

 

There was no one to stop him as he entered the manor grounds. The crashing of the waves and the cries of sea gulls filled the air as he looked about. It looked as if no one had been around for awhile with the state of disrepair the place was in. Pale grey stone, some of the walls had been overgrown by some sort of vine that he didn't recognise. Inside was not much better, it was clear that there were some rats about with the droppings that were on the floor. He didn't think that she would be present but he had to check all the rooms nevertheless so he could report back.

 

It was then surprising to find her sitting in a bedroom, looking out at the sea and not even acknowledging his presence. No doubt she would have had wards up, but she had not bothered to meet him, nor even realise he was there. Something was wrong, but judging from the steady rise and fall of her chest, she wasn't sick and certainly wasn't dead. Wandering to a nearby room and retrieving a chair there, he brought it back to her room and placing the seat next to her he seated himself. She hadn't even looked to him the entire time, but that didn't bother him as he spoke.

 

"I wasn't sure if you would be here. You've certainly had enough people worried with your absence, what is going on?"

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

[silhouette]

She had always hated wards. Useful as they were, the way they would tingle on her skin when someone triggered them was hair-raising. Literally. She rubbed her arms as someone walked through the front gate. It would take that person a while to get there. She thought that it would probably be one of the servants she’d had here before, probably still living in the smaller house near the gates. Or a descendant of that servant. She’d had a family of loyal darkfriends there when she first arrived here, but that was years ago. The meaning of time faded when she had as much of it as she had.

 

No doubt the servant would see the state of the manor, and decide to do something about it. Usually she sent word when she wanted to stay here for a while, but now she hadn’t. There hadn’t been any time. Other wards had gone off when whoever it was entered the manor, sending shivers through her body once more. Wards. If she didn’t need them she would never set one again. Muirenn was a fan of wards. She used them whenever she could. Probably because she had little else going for her, when Saidar was concerned. Still, the older woman had more power than Nyssa in the Black Ajah. That could have changed of course, if Nyssa had been willing to put effort into it.

 

She didn’t. Nothing about the thought of the Black Ajah inspired her to go back to the White Tower. Oh, there were some of the sisters there she got along with. Dawn, Vera, Aleanda. Even Alicatia, whom she had initiated into the Black Ajah on her own. They would do fine without her. Perhaps even better. Either way, there was no reason for her to go back and meddle with things again. And the longer she waited, the harder it got for her to return. Someone entered her room, walking around for a moment before taking a seat next to her. She assumed that it was one of her servants, wanting to go through a list of things that needed to be done.

 

The voice was wrong though. She recognised this voice, and it clearly wasn’t one of her servants. She slowly turned her head, and found herself looking at Michael Daemeau. Not the first person she’d been expecting there, but in a way it also made sense. Rasputin was one of the few who knew where to find the manor, after all. Yet to send Michael… that was odd, to say the least. Not that it mattered all that much to her. “Nothing much.†she answered his question as to what was going on. “Everything I’ve worked for the past forty years has been torn to shreds by one of yours, and I’m just taking a break from it all.†To emphasise that she stretched lazily, taking her time.

 

~Nyssa Deschain

Greater Dreadlady

[Wayfarer]

Frowning at how Nyssa was acting, it was soon explained by her words. Oh, everyone had heard in the Fortress of how one M`aeshadar had gone into the White Tower and caused the damage he had. Some people had applauded it, but the majority had recognised it as both a waste and a foolish move. Regardless of Aginor's thoughts on the matter in fact, but then Aginor cared little for the thoughts of those who served him. Rasputin on the otherhand had been a different matter, and he'd been of the opinion that Caladesh's move had been foolish. Of course, Rasputin's wife and daughter also lived in the White Tower.

 

Yet Michael agreed with him. It had overplayed their hand, if they were to attack the White Tower they should have done so in force and wiped them out in one go if they were to do it. But instead, Caladesh had gone ahead, all under the order of Osan'gar who had thought to impress those around him with his actions and under the strange thought that it would somehow improve things. But no, it had made the White Tower that much more difficult to infiltrate or to destroy by taking that pot shot, it had made the Tower more alert. In particular to its need for defence, and even now there were limits to where they could go in regards to the Tower for fear of setting off ter'angreal specifically for sensing male channelers.

 

But of course Nyssa had decided to lump him with the fool, they were men after all. Shadow help him, she needed to pull her head in with her ego the way it was. But of course, doing that would mean having to guard his dreams and if she were a good dreamwalker his wardings wouldn't serve him well in the end.

 

In fact, he could have gone home right there as he'd found Nyssa Deshain. But then, he wasn't sure if she was alright. In fact, Michael was fairly sure that she wasn't alright, especially with all her work ripped out from underneath her. It wasn't a pleasant feeling to be set back like that, and now she was clearly... well, doing nothing. The house certainly didn't show signs of having been cleaned or things being fixed. Of course, maybe this was just a waiting station for Nyssa until she decided or was ready to make her next move.

 

"Don't lump me with that retard, he serves a different master. Or rather, he did. Rasputin heard of what happened, and he learned that you were missing and the Black Ajah weren't sure where to find you. He hoped I might find you first to see that you were alright. Clearly you aren't, so what do you do now?"

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

[silhouette]

“Now I stare into the distance and wait for a sign from our almighty Lord of the Dark, that’s what.†Nyssa said, sharper than she’d intended. She had thought that Caladesh was one of Aginor’s men, but clearly she was wrong. No need to be angry with Michael for something he wasn’t even remotely associated with. She shrugged. “I thought he served Aginor. I might have gone to the Fortress if I was sure he didn’t, but… well, as it was it didn’t seem like a good idea, with the Shadow’s peace and all that.†She smiled slightly. “That’s why I’ve always disliked being at the White Tower. They’re so full of themselves, they haven’t even begun wondering about which chosen Caladesh belonged to. At least, they hadn’t when I left, and I doubt they’ve caught on now. It’s so tiring.â€

 

It was a surprise to hear that the Black Ajah had asked after her though. Probably worried that she’d betray their secrets somewhere. They could all die, as far as Nyssa was concerned. The entire White Tower could crumble, and she wouldn’t shed a single tear over it. “So I don’t actually know what I’m going to do next. I’m done with the White Tower. I’ll be damned before I spend another fifty years trying to get into the Amyrlin’s inner circle. And I’m tired of picking up the scraps from Muirenn’s table as well. The White Tower had proven itself perfectly capable of wrecking itself. It doesn’t need my help..â€

 

But what else… what else… what place was there in this world, for a person like Nyssa Deschain. To the Fortress, where mindgames and manipulations were among the daily exercises. Or elsewhere? To serve a Chosen more directly than she had in the White Tower? But Chosen were fickle, and hard to please. What else… To leave it all behind? They would find her again. Once sworn, the oaths would bind you to the cause for as long as you lived and beyond. Forsaking one’s duty was not an option. “I don’t know what else there is.†She said, her voice sounding bleak.

 

~Nyssa Deschain

Greater Dreadlady

[Wayfarer]

Listening quietly, it was strange to hear Nyssa the way she was. She had been rather sure of herself when she had come to the Fortress, the very thing that had appealed to Michael when it came to targets for his jokes and japes. Now though... Well, there was a reason why he was silent instead of joking, her face might not seem so different from it usual impassiveness, but her voice spoke volumes about the desperation she seemed to feel. Strange to hear a sister of the Black Ajah so despondent and uncaring of the Tower, that was usually all they cared about, climbing the rungs in their own playground rather than worried with the rest of the world.

 

Rasputin would have probably been interested to know that the sisters didn't have any clue which Chosen commanded Caladesh, but then Rasputin probably wouldn't be all that enthused to help. His wife would know, no doubt, but there was little to be done with the others. Rasputin had no particular love toward them, no resentment either, but he didn't feel as if he owed them any favours. But then, the sisters often felt themselves equals or betters. Occasionally they were the former, but never the latter that much was certain.

 

But as to Nyssa, what to do with her? Rasputin wouldn't require him to report back straight away, he could wait a few hours before sending the message. She looked worse for wear, she certainly hadn't been taking care of herself. That was where he could start in the meantime. "Come with me."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because."

 

Frowning as she looked back to the sea, Michael reached forward and took her hand. The Nyssa he had known would have snatched her hand back instead she got up as he gave it a tug. Leading her about felt like having a few daggers hovering over his back, but he was fairly certain she was too far out of it to do anything. If he'd thought she was of a mind, then he wouldn't have been there and he certainly wouldn't have to lead her to the kitchen that he had located earlier.

 

Getting her to sit down only required him to pull out a seat. Rooting about the Kitchen soon found him what he wanted. She might be out of it now, but before she had clearly shown some wisdom and woven some wards of keeping over her food stores. One had been broken into by rodents but the rest were still safe.

 

It was a bit but he soon had a couple of sandwiches prepared. If there was something he could manage then it was definitely sandwiches. Or toast, but he would have to search for the toasting iron later. Sitting the sandwich infront of her and putting his own plate at the chair next to her, he left and returned with a pair of glasses. Saidin was easy enough to grasp and water that was drawn from the air poured into the glasses. Cheating, but then Michael wasn't exactly a person of qualms and he was interested to see what her reaction would be to him channeling. She didn't even blink, and a lack of goosebumps meant she hadn't taken saidar in response.

 

Releasing the power, Michael pointed to her sandwich. "You'd best eat, you look like you've lost some weight, too much in fact."

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

[silhouette]

A spark of anger shot through Nyssa when Michael pulled her out of her chair, but it was gone again by the time they’d reached her kitchen. She sat down as he scurried about, sinking back into the depths of… well, whatever it was that had her down lately. She’d been angry before, right after she found out what Caladesh had done. She couldn’t care less about the death of Lyanna al’Ellisande, but the burning out of Lanfir Leah Marithsen had her in a rage. Duty had demanded of her that she stayed and took care of business, but if that hadn’t kept her there, she would have stormed off to the Fortress. That would have been even more stupid than it had seemed at the time, because at the time she still thought it was some foolish ploy from Aginor that had ruined her work.

 

She felt the weight of those years on her shoulders again as she waited for Michael to do whatever he was doing. She realised that he was probably right about her, but as it was with most things these days, she didn’t really care. As she took a bite from her sandwich, she thought of Lanfir. Had she taken her own life with the katana she’d left behind? Had she starved to death, or frozen to death? Had she thrown herself from a cliff? Nyssa didn’t know. Somehow it seemed unlikely. Lanfir had been a fighter to the very end, even ready to attack Nyssa while she was already broken, while she’d already realised that her life was worthless. Lanfir would no doubt fight until the bitter end, even when she had nothing left to fight for.

 

“It’s only time.†Nyssa muttered after finishing her sandwich and her water. Saidin-made water, she realised, but it didn’t bother her much. She knew that she and Michael were pretty much equals in strength, but considering the state she was in, she was pretty sure he could knock her over with a thread of wind should he chose to do so. “So what would you do if you were in my place?†Her options were fairly simple, if she were honest with herself. She could return to the White Tower, where she could compete with Muirenn for power and other things, or she could stay here, and find a new path. Perhaps she could even join Rasputin’s order. Or join Be`lal. Or even Lanfear. She had skills. She just had to… get up and do something with them.

 

~Nyssa Deschain

Greater Dreadlady

[Wayfarer]

Turning to her as the woman muttered, Michael was finishing the last of his sandwich as he watched and listened. If nothing else, hopefuly she'd feel a bit better with having had a decent meal, he wondered whether she had had anything beyond the odd scrap since she had come here to hide. He'd seen the bone weariness like this in some though they had often been older, or they had simply tired of serving the Shadow. The former because they were nearing the end, or the latter because they had only sworn to save themselves but never been able to really embrace the cause. They were people who had nothing left.

 

There was the question, what would he do in her place? Michael wasn't sure that he ever would be, he planned on surviving and living forever if he could manage it. There was the cause, but even if he lost that he still had those friends that he could rely on. Strange things for a Darkfriend to have, or so Lightfools would have thought, but even in the Shadow one could not entirely survive without at least some trust somewhere. Whether it was trust in people, in coin, in fear or in a blade and a strong hand to wield it, that depended on the person.

 

"A holiday, but you already have that." The real problem however wasn't solved by that. "You need purpose, so you need to find what you want to do. There are plenty out there who would want your services, but I suppose it is what you want. I serve Rasputin because I trust him and I know that he will protect me. In turn I have no further ambitions beyond that, safety and friendship are enough for me."

 

"You used to be more interested in satisfying your ambitions I think. But now, I wonder whether that is the case. There are some that would certainly give you a chance to satisfy such feelings. But it depends what you want in the end. But either way the choice is up to you. I wasn't sent here to bring you to heel or to make choices for you, only to make sure you were alright."

 

"Speaking of which." Michael stood from his seat, collecting the plates and glasses as he continued. "I need to let Rasputin know you are alright. I gather you would not care for the Black Ajah to know where you are?" A nod was the only response he got. "I'll make sure to inform Rasputin of that was well then so your location will only be known to him. After that, I will be back and no doubt have to see about fixing you some dinner."

 

Putting the plates and glasses on the bench where he could deal with them later, he spared her one last glance before leaving. She was in such a sorry state, definitely not the woman he had known. Rasputin would not mind him staying and making sure Nyssa was alright, though no doubt he would wonder why. Michael wasn't even sure himself, maybe it was his inherent dislike of the thought of leaving a woman by herself and wounded so. Maybe it was because she had been on his mind before he had been sent to the manor. For whatever reason, he would be returning and with some of his things. He would settle in for the long haul, as long as it took unless he was needed elsewhere.

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

[silhouette]

Strange enough, having someone around the manor made Nyssa realise that it was a mess. She’d arrived there a few days ago, with nothing but the dress she was wearing and a warm cloak which she had needed on top of Kinslayer’s dagger. She hadn’t needed anything else. The house was still warded, and she had everything she could ever need right there. All her secrets were locked in her mind, none to be found within her chambers at the White Tower. She didn’t actually feel as if she’d left anything worthwhile behind, which was the biggest part of her problem. In the years before now, she had always felt eager to return to the White Tower whenever she was away for a while. She could reach the world in her dreams, but the White Tower was where she could touch the threads of her web. That was where her power had been centred. Now her web was washed away, and the pull she had always felt was gone. The White Tower might as well have been broken by Caladesh, as far as she was concerned.

 

She wandered the hallways of her manor, repairing some of the damage, and blowing away some of the dust and dirt. Saidar was useful that way. She’d spent fifteen years doing mind-numbing chores before she was raised to Aes Sedai. To keep her humble, they said. A small smile curved her lips. The day she saw a humble Aes Sedai would be the day she started believing in the Creator. On that day, she would repent for all of her sins. As that was never going to happen, Nyssa’s conscience was clear. When she was done cleaning she felt a little better. Not much though. Her own life was in a far worse state of disrepair than her house had been, and she felt it would take more than a few threads of Saidar to fix it. On the other hand, she was quite sure that Chosen like Semirhage and Graendal would disagree. She shivered slightly, thanking whatever power she was meant to believe in that she still had her own free will. Not that it was worth much these days.

 

Michael returned not long after Nyssa had taken a bath. They talked some more over dinner. It was odd, to have someone to talk to about matters such as faith and direction. Though she had ‘sisters’ with the same affiliations in the White Tower, contact with them was rare. Too scared of their own shadow, she supposed. Despite the company, which she rather enjoyed despite the fact that she and Michael had never gotten along before, she was no closer to actually finding an answer to her dilemma. The White Tower was out of the question, but where did that leave her? She had only a few threads of her own web of influence left, and none of these seemed to capture her attention for long. Even as she slept, these thoughts occupied her mind. She dreamt of the fortress again, of Rasputin and Tom, and even of Michael. Odd dreams, but after a few nights of them she’d gotten used to it.

 

The differences in the manor didn’t become obvious until she woke up though. Sounds were different from the way they had been, and so were the smells. It reminded her of the activity in the White Tower in a way, and for a moment she was disoriented. That passed swiftly as she remembered where she was, and why she was there. She got up and wandered to her kitchen, where Michael was, doing whatever it was that a man like he would do in the morning. There had once been a time when Nyssa cared about such things, but now they seemed to slide off her. “Good morning.†She said, watching him from the entrance to the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?†it occurred to her that she didn’t even know where he’d slept. Perhaps she should figure this out before nightfall. He was still a darkfriend, after all, and they didn’t share an allegiance with the same Chosen.

 

~Nyssa Deschain

Greater Dread and all that jazz.

[Wayfarer]

Michael's return to the manor had been marked by a substantial improvement in its cleanliness. He wasn't quite sure what had spurred Nyssa into doing it, maybe just having had a good meal had finally restored to her a bit of sense, but either way he was glad to see it. Maybe once he had seen her to better health he'd be able to understand why he had begun thinking of her again. It wasn't that she hadn't strayed into his thoughts ever since her first visit to the Fortress, but not repeatedly like she had over the past few days.

 

Dinner had ended up being a stew, Michael wasn't the finest cook but he could make a solid meal when he had to. Enough years on the road doing this or that had forced him to learn even though he would have been perfectly content with someone else having to do it for him. At least her kitchen was stocked, and once again he was thankful for the fact that she had woven wards of keeping over her food. That and whoever she had kept to caretake the manor hadn't thought to take it all with them. Then again, with someone like Nyssa to chase you through your dreams, one would think twice about it.

 

Their conversation seemed to center a great deal on him, specifically why he had taken his oaths and why he had his faith. For once, Michael was truthful about it all even though his answers were simple. He hadn't wanted to go mad, and his only choice was to serve or die and he preferred to live. His faith had been confirmed by his visit to the Pit of Doom, and the logic of his beliefs. While he wasn't fervent like Rasputin, he wasn't a complete unbeliever like Nyssa proved to be. He refrained from criticising her for it like he would have another time, once she had some steel back in her it would be a different matter. To ignore the existance of the Great Lord of the Dark as much as the Creator was to try and ignore the night and day.

 

Michael had put his things in a room next to Nyssa's, and while he wasn't sure whose room it had been it was comfortable nevertheless. If only his dreams had been so accomodating, Nyssa kept making an appearance in them, something that Michael remembered as he awoke. And of course he couldn't ask her about it, if she was in his dreams she probably wouldn't admit to it anyway, and if it wasn't her then he would look the fool, and possibly besotted. He most certainly was not that.

 

Dressing didn't take long and it was then the kitchen once more for him. The toasting iron that he had located came in handy at this point. Cheating with the fire, it was burning away happily enough and it wasn't long before he had a few pieces of toast warming. He was rather disappointed at the lack of mustard to be found, but tomatoes along with some cheese would go well with the toast.

 

He was pulling the toast off the fire when Nyssa spoke from the hall entrance. Smiling, he shrugged at her as began to free the toast from the irons, he decided most definitely not to ask her about wandering into his dreams. He'd have to try warding tonight and see if that made a difference. "It was well enough. Go and sit down at the table, I'm nearly done."

 

Putting aside the irons as she took a seat, Michael took the tomato he had picked out and began to slice away at it as she spoke. "So, have you thought on last night at all?"

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

[silhouette]

Nyssa looked down at the plate Michael put in front of her for a moment, before picking up a piece of toast and nibbling on it. She wasn’t particularly hungry, but Michael was watching her, or at least pretending not to watch her while he went on and did whatever it was he was doing. She didn’t feel like getting criticised over not eating. Not now, at least. “I thought about it.†She said, remembering the direction those thoughts had taken her. Nowhere she wanted to be. Which made sense, of course, because she didn’t even know where she wanted to be. That much had become clear to her after listening to Michael go on about his faith and his purpose. Perhaps there was no place for her in this world anymore.

 

It wasn’t the first time that such a thought had occurred to her. In truth, the first time it crossed her mind was right after she had arrived here. In Tear. Home, or something like it at least. “I dreamt of the Fortress.†She said, smiling faintly. “Nothing special, just… the Fortress. Talking to Tom about the Chosen, discussing faith with Rasputin.†Arguing with Michael, or stalking him in his dreams as she had done the first few nights after meeting him. He’d deserved as much back then. It wasn’t something she would like to discuss with him now though. People often got a bit stressed out when a dreamwalker mentioned dreaming about them. Dreamwalkers had regular, pointless dreams as well though. Not that Nyssa felt the difference between them these days. Whatever she did, it all seemed to amount to the same things. Her memories of things that were no longer hers to have.

 

In a way dreaming of the fortress made sense. It had seemed like a decent place to go if she ever got tired of the White Tower. But now? She had seen it with her own eyes. The same manipulations, the same limitations. The same webs of power, just as easily torn away by the careless actions of one madman. She didn’t think it was the place for her now. No, Tear was better. There was nothing here for her to work on, but that suited her. She glanced up at Michael again, just in time to see him avert his eyes. Before Caladesh ruined all she had built up, she might have said something about it. Would have tried to draw him into her inner circle. Use him. Manipulate him. Perhaps even break him. And now here he was, making her breakfast. She found she rather enjoyed the irony.

 

She got up from the kitchen table. “I’ll see you later.†she said, smiling at Michael just briefly. Walking back to her rooms at the sea-side of the manor, she wondered how much later. Michael lived a dangerous life. Perhaps she would see him again soon. Perhaps in dreams, if the Great Lord allowed such things. She went about her daily routine, thinking about faith and purpose, and knowing that she lacked in both. She was done with it. She carefully brushed her hair, letting it fall down on her snow-white gown. She had often dressed this way in the White Tower. A white dress with a black ribbon around her waist, and yet no one ever caught on to the symbolism of it. That was why the Shadow would be victorious. The Light was just too ignorant of the details.

 

The wind was cold on her skin as she opened the doors to her porch. She could of course ignore the cold, but instead she welcomed it. It was appropriate. She walked down the narrow path to the beach. It wasn’t far, but far enough for her feet to get cold. By the time she reached the water she was chilled to the bone. Almost as a reflex she reached out to Saidar. It was like breathing now, after all the years she’d used it. Her senses increased in strength even more. The cold was overwhelming, and got even worse when she stepped forward, into the water. She’d always liked the sea. Another appropriate thing, for her to end her life there, in the icy depths of the ocean right in front of her home. No one would miss her. She had no purpose. No faith. No hope. The water came to her waist now, and the occasional wave lapped at her chest. A few more steps and it reached her chin. So close now. She would need no purpose after this. She closed her eyes and walked on, letting the water close over her head. She finally let go of Saidar, and welcomed the darkness when it overwhelmed her senses.

 

~Nyssa Deschain

Greater Dreadlady

[Wayfarer]

Watching her leave, Michael smiled to himself before doing the dishes. With saidin, he could cheat but he took his time as he thought on what she had said. Dreaming of the fortress? And of the others? Talking to Tom about the Chosen and faith with Rasputin? Had she dreamt of others, perhaps of him? Was she dreaming of the Fortress often? Had she been stepping into his dreams? He was definitely putting up wards, he really didn't like the idea of of her crawling through his dreams. She had done it before whether she'd admit it or not, and he was not keen on her doing so now.

 

Putting the plates away, he decided to go and see what Nyssa was up to. He might go for a nap after that, after all he only really needed to be around more than anything else. Stepping out of the kitchen, he frowned when he saw that Nyssa's room was open. More importantly, she wasn't in it, where was she? It was after a few minutes of searching that he felt saidar and alot of it from the way his flesh crawled. More importantly, it didn't feel like it was in the house, but further away. Heading to the back of the manor quickly, he found the doors open and they faced out onto one thing that created a deep sinking feeling in Michael's gut. The sea.

 

Abandoning his usual lazy gait for a full sprint, his feet pounded against soft earth and then sand as he beelined to the water. It was as he reached the water's edge that the sharp feeling of saidar being channeled nearby disappeared, and it had last come from the waters before him. Cursing, he tried to pick her out from amongst the rising and falling waves, hoping that she would reveal as he plunged hip deep into the waves. The water pushing and pulling at him as he looked about wildly, there was a hint of white and that was enough for him as he threw himself in, kicking towards it.

 

Snagging Nyssa, Michael struggled to get her back to shore. Her soaked dress made her ridiculously heavy and the ebb and the flow of the waves was making it difficult to get back quickly as her dress was pulled back tot he sea. As he got closer, he was able to get his footing and he dragged her the rest of the way. Her heels leaving furrows in the sand, he didn't even think to call on saidin. Instead he used something he had learned a number of years ago and pulling her head back he breathed into her mouth then pushed on her lungs. Another brea-

 

Falling backwards as he coughed, he cleared his throat of the water she'd coughed up into him as best she could while she rolled onto one side and forced the rest out onto the sand. Letting her get it out, as soon as she was done he scooped her up into his arms, he was getting her back to her room as quickly as he could. The stupid fool, why had she thought to do such a thing. Something that he asked her as she looked up at him rather weakly.

 

“You… had no right.†She said, looking up at him. She could barely make him out, as she was looking up at both him and the sun. Just a dark haired man with a bright golden halo. “I just wanted to… you had no right.†She repeated again. It was so cold. She tried to warm herself by taking hold of saidar, but it didn’t really work. He had to let her go. “Let me go!†she half shouted, trying to scratch at his face. He seemed to be too far away for her to reach. “I said let go!†she screeched, taking hold of Saidar and lashing out at him with it. Or trying to, at least. One moment she had it, and the next it was gone. Oh, it was there, but beyond her reach, just as everything was beyond her reach these days. Even death. Darkness overtook her once more, but this time it lacked the kindness it had had when she had tried to drown herself.

 

Releasing saidin as he saw she had passed out from the shock of the shield, Michael continued walking up the hill to the manor. It wasn't until they reached her room that he took saidin once more. Fire stoked, covers drawn back but he didn't set her on the bed. Instead he put her on her chest and began working at the laces. Sand was everywhere through the dress and he wasn't going to have her rolling all about in it. It was as he began to peel her dress off that he began to feel a bit of heat in his cheeks.

 

Blushing? He didn't blush! Frowning, he ended up averting his eyes as best he could as he freed her from her soaked and salty clothes. Using a towel to dry her up as best he could without straying anywhere untoward, pulling her underwear and shift on without looking was difficult, and induced more blushing as he imagined where the hands were going but it was done. Lastly, he used the one power to dry her hair so it wouldn't soak the bed before slipping her onto the bed. Now for the other things that needed doing. Hardening the air around her wrists, it ensured that she wasn't going to be able to go anywhere, or more importantly get a knife and stab him repeatedly.

 

The shield came next, to which he devoted most of his power before tying it off. She wasn't going to rip his throat out with the one power either, he liked it the way it was and if her earlier grab for saidar was anything to go by, she wasn't happy with how he had interfered. Releasing saidin, he left and returned with a book and a chair. Yet everything that had taken place between rescuing Nyssa from the waters to the channeling had tired him out, in particular the effort he had put into the shield. The words were soon blurring and his head slumped forward as he drifted off to sleep.

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

 

Nyssa Deschain

Dreadlady

[silhouette]

There was darkness still. Nothing but darkness. She liked it that way, peaceful as it was. It wasn’t hers to have though. Slowly she felt herself being pulled from it. It took her a while to realise where she was. Home, or at least something that was like it. Her own bed, or at least the bed she’d used whenever she was there. Then it came to her. The sea, the cold darkness, and then the light again. Breathing again after being so close to her release. Michael. The memory of him brought on a wave of hot anger. She had been so close, and he ruined her escape. He was going to pay for that.

 

Or at least, he was going to pay for it as soon as she was free. Her hands and feet were tied to the bed, and she couldn’t reach saidar. She almost panicked, before she remembered that she had other ways to reach him. She just had to make sure he was asleep. When she turned her head to the side she saw that she wouldn’t have to search for his dreams long. He was sitting right next to her bed, obviously asleep. A small smile played around her lips. He might think she was the helpless one here, but he was wrong.

 

Steadying her breathing, it took her less than a few minutes to fall asleep, and even less time to locate his dreams. That was when things got strange though. She had half expected him to keep his wards up. Without saidar it would have been impossible to get through those. They weren’t in place though. She could have strolled right in if she had wanted to. Another strange thing was that his dream presence didn’t shy away from her. In fact, his dreams seemed to await her, even approach her. She didn’t let that stop her though.

 

Instead of leaping in head first, she decided to watch his dream. It had the smell of a nightmare to her. Perhaps she could use it later on. As she watched, she saw him look out over the sea, a glimpse of white appeared, but it seemed to drift out of his reach every single time. She realised that it was her he was diving for. That was strange. Why would he be worried about not reaching her on time.

 

With a few nudges she changed the direction of the dream, until it showed her little more than Michael’s actual memories of her near death. It was strange to watch it from his eyes. Even stranger was the overwhelming sense of panic that she gained from it. Michael had been beyond worried for her. She saw him pull herself out of the water, and breathe air into her lungs again. Then he carried her inside, but not after shielding her. She understood better now. She had looked rather fierce, lashing out at him with Saidar. Also rather weak, if you asked her. She’d felt weaker than a novice at that point.

 

The dream went on, showing her that he’d done what he could to get her dry again. Was he blushing? If she’d had a physical presence in the dreamscape, she would have laughed aloud. Michael blushed at the sight of her unclothed body. It intrigued her far more than she would have thought too. The dream ended with him tucking her in, still feeling by far too worried. And here she had always assumed he despised her. But hadn’t he already proven that wasn’t the case? He was here, after all, and she doubted any order of Rasputin could have kept him at her side.

 

She released his dream, wandering around the dreamscape for a bit before returning to her own body. As she awoke she immediately felt the restraining presence of the shield. That would have to go. “Michael?†she asked, turning her head to the side to see if he was responding. It didn’t look like it. “Michael? You can let go now. I won’t stab you.†Well, she might, but not yet. There was more behind his rescue attempt, and she was determined to figure out what it was.

 

~Nyssa Deschain

Greater Dreadlady.

[Wayfarer]

Feeling a little groggy, Michael awoke to someone talking. Where was he? Blinking as he looked about, it came to him quickly. Of course, the voice helped with that, looking to the bed he saw that Nyssa was finally awake. Furthermore, she didn't look nearly as enraged as before when she'd attempted to take saidar on the beach. That was a good sign, or perhaps it was the calm before the storm. Either way he took saidin and sliced her bonds with spirit, the shield was staying for the moment though. "How are you feeling?" A nice and ambiguous question, and something to keep her occupied as he released saidin.

 

Nyssa silently observed Michael for a while, trying to catch her breath a bit, as well as giving herself some time to push down the anger she still felt, despite knowing that Michael hadn’t saved her to spite her. It wasn’t working. She slid towards the side of the bed. “I’m fine.†She said, lying casually. She’d just tried to kill herself, and failed miserably due to him. What was he thinking? Anger welled up in her, grew until she was unable to deny it’s presence. She hadn’t felt this way in years, and her first instinct was to lash out at his with the one power. The shield he had on her prevented that. it fuelled her anger even further. Enough for her to do something she had never done before in her life. She jumped up from the bed and leapt at him, trying to get her nails in his eyes, or at least to scratch his miserable face open. Save her from death, would he?

 

Throwing up his arms just in time to stop himself having his face riped from brow to chin, he quickly got hold of their arms and forced her back to the bed. Straddled by her as she tried to kick him it was a battle to try and get her legs to one side and force them back underneath the covers. The arms refused to get down there so instead Michael pinned her arms down to either side of her head but fair enough so that he couldn't get bitten. The legs he solved by sitting on her thighs so they were pinned down as he straddled her. Light but she had far more energy than she had a right to all things considered.

 

Her little fit of rage was draining her far more rapidly than she had thought it would. It made sense, in a way, but wasn’t anger supposed to fuel you far longer than it did now? Perhaps it was because she was no match for Michael. Perhaps weapons training wasn’t as much of a waste of time as she had always thought. She snarled at Michael when he pinned her down, which effectively ended her struggles. “Damn you.†She growled, trying to wriggle out from under him. After a few minutes she gave up, and turned her head. She could see the ocean from her window. So close. She had been so close.

 

Watching her gaze shift to the window, Michael took saidin within himself for only as long as was needed to shut the windows and draw the curtains across them. That seemed to incense her but enough was enough, she was not going to be spending her time looking out at the sea and thinking about how she'd been thwarted and ways to try and attempt it again. Turning back to her, he just gave her a level look as he waited to hear what she had to say to that. Complain all she wanted but until she was herself again he wasn't going to even let her farther than ten feet from the manor.

 

Turning her gaze away from the window, Nyssa gave Michael a level look before turning her head the other way. He might be sitting on top of her, but she could ignore him as long as it took. He’d have to go to sleep eventually, and then no amount of blushing could keep her from tearing his mind into tiny little shreds. With that thought in the back of her head, she felt strengthened enough to look back at him. “So… what are your plans now that you’ve saved me? It changes nothing.â€

 

It took her a bit to look back to him but when she did she had something to throw at him. Michael wasn't sure what to say to her question either, there were only a few choices and he wasn't sure what to do about any of them. "I'm not sure. Sooner or later you've got to come out of this slump, and if you don't after a bit I'll take you to the Fortress myself and find someone who can help you. If no one else could find an answer, Thom would and as I recall he was quite fond of you. I'm of a mind to tie you up and bring him here now except I think you can do it yourself."

 

“And when did you become the Great Lord of the Dark?†she bit at him. “When did you become the person to decide whether I live or die. It was not your call, it was mine, and you. had. no. right.†The irony of being thwarted when carrying out the only choice she’d made for herself since arriving at the manor was bitter. “There is nothing here for me. Why not let me see for myself if I’ve been right all along, or if there really is a Great Lord to condemn me to eternal hell on the other side.â€

 

Michael chuckled at her, not out of humour so much but from frustration. She was stupidly stubborn, and if she thought a little speech about her rights and her decisions was going to win him over to finishing herself off then she was sorely mistaken. "So what? You're just going to end it? You're a coward, and the worst sort. We might get rewoven on the wheel but you only get one shot at being who you are now. And you're going to chuck it away because the first time in your life you're adrift and don't know what to do? Burn you for a fool because I'll be damned if I watch you throw it all away and not lift a hand."

 

“Why do you even care?!†she shouted, renewing her struggles to get away from him. Though she was trying to ignore what he said, his words did hit home. Perhaps she was giving up too easily. But she had been made for the White Tower. It had turned her into the person she was today, and she didn’t know what to do now that her place was no longer there. “Out of all the people Rasputin could send, he sent the most arrogant… self absorbed… bastard!†she let out a frustrated scream when it turned out that Michael’s hold was still secure.

 

Feeling her strain against his grip, the scream of frustration that followed didn't bring him a single bit of joy, nor did his words. Instead of all things it made him angry, not even when she'd managed to skip into his dreams all that time ago had she ever managed to make him angry like this. "Well this is a self absorbed bastard who isn't going to let you drown yourself, get used to it woman. Shadow help me you're more daft than a lightfool. Oh, its too much. Oh woe is me the Tower isn't for me anymore. The world is bigger than that little witch coven. Thats the problem with you Black Ajah, all you see is that stupid Tower instead of looking at the rest of the world around you. You politick in the Tower and you're so damn proud of yourselves but not one of you lives. Now you're going to run when you have the chance? Burn you woman, burn you because as far as I'm concerned it isn't happening."

 

Idle words. That’s what Nyssa was telling herself as she listened to Michael rant. They were just idle words, and nothing he said actually meant a thing. And yet it did. Tears streamed down her face now, another thing she ignored. Crying was for children and novices, after all, and Nyssa hadn’t even cried then. “I don’t know how.†She choked out at his suggestion that she get off her arse and do something with the freedom that had been offered to her. “You don’t understand, you didn’t grow up there. One hundred and fifty years, that’s not going to go away because you want it to.â€

 

Tears, that was one thing he hadn't wanted out of her but at the same time it was what she needed to let out. Releasing her hands, they went to her face as she tried to stem the flow of her tears. Safe. Sliding off her, she then curled up into a ball. There it was, she had finally cracked, and now she had cracked maybe he would have better luck now. Sitting beside her, he slipped an arm around her and held her as he said things he hoped would help, and more importantly were true. "Thats true, I don't think in some ways I could ever forget the Fortress. But as much as a place can shape you, that is still you underneath. Maybe the answer to your problem is finding that thing you buried."

 

At least she wouldn’t have to look at Michael now that she was curled up. At least he wouldn’t have to look at her. Lanfir Leah Marithsen had her revenge after all. Nyssa was broken, and she knew it, and there was nothing she could do to keep herself from crying. Not even the knowledge that she was indeed behaving in a very pitiful manner for all the world to see. Well, not all the world, but Michael at least. There had been a time when she would indeed have killed herself before letting him see that. She struggled out from under the cover and Michael, and walked to her bathroom. “Don’t worry, I won’t try to drown myself in the bathtub. It doesn’t have the same charm as the ocean.â€

 

Watching her disappear into her ensuite, she appeared a moment later and crooked a finger. What was the problem? Walking into the bathroom it was then that he realised what it was as she pointed to the bathtub. No water, she couldn't channel. He certainly wasn't going to be taking her shield off, so he had to take care of it himself. Filling it well enough that she could easily wash herself, he left her there and taking the chair in her room he sat it by the doorway so he couldn't look inside but he was nearby. "We're to keep talking. The moment you stop talking, I'm walking in there to make sure you're alright."

 

After rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out at Michael’s back, Nyssa turned to the bath. It was a little too hot for her taste, but she’d manage. “Fine, we’ll talk.†She said, her words muffled slightly by her shift as she pulled it over her head. She grinned when she remembered Michael’s blushes when he dressed her earlier. A small smile curved her lips as she stepped out of her smallclothes and into the bath. “You could always sit inside, you know. Unless you’re shy, of course.†The water was too hot indeed, but she found she rather appreciated it. It got the salt of her skin, and that was all that mattered.

 

The offer to join her inside was definitely not something that he was going to take her up on. Not that it hadn't stopped him from doing so in other cases before, but no. Shaking his head at the thought, and feeling a little warmer due to the heat coming from the bathroom, Michael responded clearly. "I'm fine where I am." There, that sounded resolute. "Why do you have this manor out here in Tear of all places? Why not Illian or Altara? Tairen are, as a rule, suspicious of channelers whether Darkfriend or not."

 

Nyssa chuckled softly before ducking her head under the water. Not too long, of course, lest Michael was overwhelmed with the urge to rescue her again. When she resurfaced again she caught his question about Tear. “I like the climate here.†She said. A lie, of course. Mayene had a far better climate, but she was too well known there. Or had been, at least. “Tear is the second to last place a channeller would want to live, which is also why it’s the second to last place anyone would ever look for an Aes Sedai.†She took up a bar of soap. “Besides, the local Tairens are all too willing to believe that the manor is owned by some eccentric noblewoman. As long as the gold keeps flowing.â€

 

She might have liked the climate, but unless this was an off month then Michael had to say that it was far from desirable. In fact, he would have gone so far as to say the place was a hole compared to other places they could have been. But Nyssa was still speaking so Michael continued to listen as she explained that it was not a place to look for channelers which made more sense. Also the mention of gold caused him to think. "You say that the gold that keeps flowing ensures a lack of questions, where does the gold come from? Will it still be flowing now that you've 'disappeared'?"

 

That could have become a problem of course. She’d thought of that years ago, when she bought the mansion. “I have my funds.†She said. That would be all the explanation Michael would get. He might have saved her life, but he was still a Darkfriend. She didn’t know if she could trust him. She has people in Mayene working for her. Or working for a nameless employer which they never saw. And there were other spoils that she could use to maintain Tairen discretion. It was rather cheap, after all. “Do you live at the fortress?†she asked, suddenly curious if Michael had a place he called home.

 

Funds. That was a rather vague way to describe her source of funds, but he was more interested in keeping her talking rather than digging for information. As long as she was talking she couldn't be drowning herself or doing anything else stupid. "Most of my life. I've lived in other places at different times, but in the end it is always where I end up going back. Its nice having somewhere that my safety is guaranteed, and not even Rasputin can touch me unless I break one of the rules. Well, he could, but he wouldn't, its part of its appeal. Also I can be who I am without having to hide it."

 

That was exactly why she liked her manor. It was hers, and no one was ever around to criticise her choices or her way of life. Well, Michael was here now, but she had good hopes that he’d leave as soon as he was certain she wouldn’t kill herself. “Don’t you have to be back at the Fortress soon? I can imagine Rasputin has better things for you to do than to watch over a depressed Aes Sedai.â€

 

Michael laughed. "Why do you think I get told to go places all the time? Besides the fact that I can get things done that is. I cause trouble when I'm in the Fortress, I stir people, it amuses me but on the otherhand doesn't amuse him so much. Oh, well he will laugh but it creates more work for him so he in turn gives me more work to try and create less for him. He's probably glad I'm not there at the moment, and I'm glad not to be running more errands at the moment." That didn't seem to be quite it but Michael wasn't going to explore that now. "And no you are not getting rid of me."

 

“It was worth a shot.†She muttered, stretching in the tub. The water had cooled down just a little, and she was enjoying the feeling of it against her skin. She felt herself nod off a bit. Not that she cared. If Michael wanted to get into a fuss over her, he could. She’d get back at him when he fell asleep again.

 

It was the pause which settled it for him. Getting to his feet he quickly ducked inside then quickly turned away and ducked back out. A small smile on her face, well it was good to see her getting some life back but he wasn't going to have her yank his chain over something like this. He knew just the thing to do as well as he retrieved a fresh towel. Returning back to the bathroom, saidin was once again his friend as he wove air and water as he quickly dropped the temperature from pleasantly hot to icy cold. As he did so he held out the towel to let her know it was time to get out, averting his gaze as he released saidin once more.

 

With a loud squeal Nyssa leapt out of the tub, which had gone from comfortably warm to icy cold in seconds. “You… are going to regret that.†she said, snatching the towel out of his hand and using it to dry herself. Then she wrapped it around her body, and stalked past him, into her bedroom. “So when are you going to lift the shield? I’ll need to have the one power back eventually.â€

 

Stepping out of the bathroom and into her room, he grinned as he saw how agitated she was. There was some life, if need be he'd push and shove her until she came to her senses again. Her question he answered with ease. "When I no longer have to worry about you hurting yourself. Preferably not me either. I'm going to go put dinner on, I expect you to be there in less than ten minutes. If you aren't there I'll dunk you in that bath myself and you can dry yourself without a towel." The look Nyssa gave him was disbelieving but if she had any sense she wouldn't call his bluff. He'd had enough for one day, and she didn't really need to do anything else either. Dinner, then sleep, sleep he could most certainly use.

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

 

Nyssa Deschain

Dreadlady

[silhouette]

Something told Nyssa that she’d better get used to doing things without Saidar for a while. Michael was the kind of man to keep a person shielded for no other reason than because he thought it was funny, after all. She glared at his back as he walked out of her room. Her shoulders slumped when he was gone though, and she did as she was told. In exactly ten minutes she was dressed and in the kitchen. She’d decided to give him no reasons to suspect that she’d turn him inside out with the One Power as soon as she had it back.

 

She knew he was struggling though. Shielding took a lot of effort, and she had no doubt that, if she were actually in good shape, she could break the shield. There was no point in it yet though. She could adapt, for now. In the meantime there were other things to focus on. Like the way he seemed to freeze for just a second when she ‘accidentally’ brushed against him. She smiled again, genuinely this time. This was a game she could play. “Tell me, how is Thom these days? I haven’t seen him in ages.†She started up the conversation again, acting casual while also trying to find out just what got the best reaction from Michael.

 

Michael looked at Nyssa who was standing next to him as she asked her question. She was making small talk now while she plotted something? Or was she starting to wake up finally? His earlier optimism had replaced due to her attempted suicide with a cynicism that made him wary of anything that looked like progress. Turning back to the garlic before him, he began to dice it as he spoke. "Thom is still working in the library for anyone who requires his help. Someone tried to push him about awhile ago, trumped up little bastard from Illian. Me and Julie hung him over a volcano for a bit, so he was really nice to Thom after that. Otherwise, he is happy with his books as always, would probably like to see you again too. He liked you."

 

He seemed wary of her, which amused her a great deal. Here she was, virtually powerless, and he seemed to be wary of her. She created some distance between them, sitting down at her kitchen table. Let him cook, if he was so determined to stick around. “We had some good talks about faith and such. He’s a very likeable man. Not at all arrogant like some dreadlords I know.†She smirked at him. “And what about Julie? Is she running around, tending to a score of your progeny yet?â€

 

Frowning at her question, he finished up the garlic first before setting the knife aside and looking to her. "Not quite no. There's been a few times we could have done something but we didn't, not that its any business of yours." Taking up the blade so he could scrape the diced garlic onto a plate, carrots came next as he spoke. "And what of you? You left no lover behind in Tar Valon? No pillow friend?" She was asking surprisingly personal questions, was she looking for something to needle?

 

Nyssa hummed softly as she traced the lines of the intricately carved table she was sitting at. So he and Julie were not together. That surprised her. She had thought that his blushing was in part caused by his fear that Julie would accuse him of ogling another woman. “Not every Aes Sedai prefers the company of women, you know.†She said, smiling sweetly at him. “But no, I left no one behind. Tar Valon is not a place where one can easily find like-minded souls. I very much doubt that a darkfriend like myself would find someone worth staying for in the ‘heart of the light.’†She chuckled at the title Tar Valon had claimed. If they only knew… “In a way my stay at the Fortress was enlightening. It’s a relief not to have to hide your… true intentions, for a change.â€

 

"The Fortress is a good home, and it has a good master as well. With someone like Rasputin in charge you can always rest easy, unlike Bekkar'sorei." Now that was a man that he had never liked, nor had most people he'd known for that matter. Strangely enough he and Rasputin had gotten along well enough, despite Bekkar'sorei being mad. "But then you should know about Bekkar'sorei, or perhaps he was before your time. He had a way with Black Sisters after all, you would remember him if you had actually met him."

 

“Having met him would imply that I was allowed to visit the Fortress before I became a member of the Supreme Council. No, the Black Ajah prefers to keep it’s own ignorant. I never realised just how much until I was accepted into the higher ranks.†She once again thought of returning to the Fortress. She had enjoyed it, in a way. “I doubt Aginor could make use of my talents though.†She said, more to herself than to Michael. “And I do have more ambition than ending up as a brood machine for whatever creature he has in mind.â€

 

"You don't need to be one of his to live there." Sweeping the carrots onto the same plate as the garlic, potato came next. "Aginor likewise respects the Shadow's Peace, otherwise he and his followers would not have access to other places in the world where the Shadow's Peace holds. Besides which he is usually too busy with other matters to deal with such things." Potato done, now it was time for the beef he had picked out. Chunks were what were needed, small but enough body to them.

 

“But the Shadow’s Peace is so dull.†Nyssa said, sitting back in her chair and grinning at Michael. “Where’s the fun in plotting if you don’t even have to watch your back, because no one would dear touch you for fear of being murdered in the name of an ancient treaty? Oh, I understand why it’s in place, and why it works so well in the Fortress, but I doubt it would work for me.†In a way Nyssa was beginning to see the appeal of being ‘let loose’ in the outside world. There was so much for her to do… but she still needed a reason to do it.

 

"Yes, Great Lord forbid you try doing something other than plotting the downfall of Kings, Queens and rivals." Smirking, Michael scraped the meat onto the plate and from there it went into the pot. He'd throw in more seasonings as it warmed up, but for now he was content to put it on the fire and warm up a little first. Doing so, he spoke as he hung the pot up. "Haven't you ever considered just giving it all a miss and giving something else a go? Take up a trade, take up drinking, take up a home and live side by side with people and simply enjoy it?"

 

“I happen to enjoy plotting the downfall of Kings, Queens and rivals.†Nyssa said, giving Michael a haughty stare before laughing. “Don’t give me that look. I do trade. How do you think I came by this house? I didn’t buy it with Tar Valon money, that’s for sure.†She sighed, and rested her chin in her hands. “I doubt drinking would really work for me. I’ve yet to meet the first woman to pull off a barrel round figure. Or a man, for that matter. I could always take up knitting.â€

 

In hindsight, maybe it would have been better to put the seasoning with it straight away. Deciding to remedy that, Michael got to it as he spoke. "See? Thats exactly what I mean. I don't mean trade as in thousands of coins here and there. A trade. You know, like with your hands, knitting could be it as a tailor, or perhaps work with wood. Doubt you'd make it as a smith though, you'd have to bulk up at least a tad more for that. Or maybe become an innkeep or offer some other service. Something basic, simple, something you can do and then relax at the end of the day and feel you've accomplished something without it involving knives in the back."

 

Nyssa laughed at that. “Don’t be ridiculous. I am what I am, and what I’m most certainly not is a hardworking, honest soul. I swore to the Great Lord because I’m a wicked person, not because I particularly believe in His cause, remember?†Nyssa yawned and stretch, watching with interest as Michael continued to work on dinner. She was a lousy cook too. Years of living in the White Tower had made sure of that. “I suppose I could always get myself knocked up. I’ve never been particularly fond of children, but at least they’d give me something to do.â€

 

Looking sharply at Nyssa when she mentioned being knocked up, Michael frowned then snorted. "You know, considering all the abilities you have I'm surprised you'd say something as stupid as that. Children aren't something you do because you have nothing better to do. They deserve better than that from a mother, especially if you then decided you were bored and wanted something better to do." Michael decided to take his time with the seasoning, he didn't like the suggestion that Nyssa had made at all.

 

Nyssa got up from her seat at the table. “You know, for someone supposedly so determined to keep me from killing myself, you’re giving me awfully little room to cheer myself up with playful banter†She walked past him, towards the door. “I think I’ll skip dinner. If you so much as think of trying to force me to eat, I will claw your eyes out.†Not necessarily in this world, but she would.

 

"Wait." Thankful that she stopped and turned to him, Michael rubbed his temple with his right hand as he spoke. "Look, I'm sorry alright?" Surprisingly he was, he shouldn't have gone that far. He didn't like what she'd had to say and he'd been a bit shorter with her than he should have been. "Its been a long day, for both of us. Just..." No, he wasn't going to mention that. "Could you please sit down?" Not a demand, rather a tired man who was beginning to feel the wear of it all.

 

She’d almost been clear of the kitchen when Michael asked her to wait. Feeling her muscles tense, she half expected him to use Saidin on her. Instead he apologised. Nyssa turned to look at him, and was surprised to see that he actually did seem sorry. And tired. She could relate to that. After a moment of hesitation she returned to her seat, and to tracing the lines of the carving. “You know, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re still shielding me, I might actually come to think that you’re decent company. Aside from the occasional outbursts, of course.†She said. It was as close to a peace offering as she’d get. And it certainly didn’t mean he was going to get away with keeping her shielded either. She’d show him.

 

Smiling slightly at the comment about being decent company, Michael still had no intentions of lifting that shield yet. Not only for his own protection but for Nyssa's protection as well. In fact, he was going to have to weave a finding weave on her soon. It couldn't be put on a person because they were alive, but things like nails were dead and those would last for a day at least, long enough for him to be able to reweave it before it wore off. There would be no midnight wanderings out along the beach for her, or anywhere else beyond her room as far as he was concerned. Resuming his work with the seasoning, he spoke. "So, kids, ever thought about them before?"

 

“I’m from a pretty big family.†She said, after thinking on his question for a while. “Before I went to the White Tower I always assumed that I would have kids. It’s not really done though, to have children when you’re an Aes Sedai.†She wasn’t even thinking of the political suicide it would be. To have children meant you had to take care of them, and you simply didn’t have the time for it at the White Tower. And she wasn’t about to let her children be raised by a surrogate mother. “Another thing for me to think on, now that I’m officially between alliances.â€

 

A big family? He couldn't really say the same, yet at the same time he could, nothing was ever simple. Finishing with the seasoning, Michael began to pack things away as he spoke. "What do you mean by being between alliances? Because of the Chosen? Or the Black Ajah? Something else you had going for you?"

 

“I mean that returning to the White Tower isn’t an option for me anymore, and I have yet to decide what else I want to do with my life, now that you’ve so skilfully put an end to my attempts to escape it.†She smirked at him. It was something she had to take into consideration. “The White Tower was no place to raise children, and I’m going to take a wild guess and say that, whatever alliance I join, it won’t offer me a safe haven for the raising of children either.†She shook her head slightly. “Not that Mayene was all that safe… I doubt there really is an absolutely perfect place to raise children.â€

 

Now that was something he hadn't been sure to find underneath the exterior that Nyssa had once presented so flawlessly. Concern for children, and not nearly as offhand about them as her original comment had been. Still, that comment of hers had irritated him, alot in fact. Finishing with packing things away, he went to the table and took a seat next to her rather than opposite. "Nowhere is truly safe, well, I'd consider the Fortress for the most part safe. There are families there, those that live in peace because the Shadarval enforce it there. You may not even need a Chosen at all."

 

Nyssa didn’t quite agree on that. The Shadarval could do little to restore a child when it had already been killed or hurt by a Darkfriend. Some of the people at the fortress might be honourable, but Nyssa knew that most of them had darker motives and dreams. Those had driven them to accept the Great Lord into their hearts. Children were frail, after all, they needed to be kept from hurt. She didn’t mention this to Michael though. In fact, they dined in silence, both immersed in their own memories.

 

 

Nyssa Deschain

Greater Dreadlady

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

[silhouette]

After dinner Nyssa had been eager to turn in. Though they had spent a while talking now, they hadn’t progressed beyond easy subjects and mild jibes yet. How different from the talks they had in the Fortress, if those could be called talks at all. This was… nice… compared to that time. Nyssa smiled fondly at the memory of that time. Freshly promoted to the Supreme Council… she’d been so sure that the world was hers back then. She chuckled at it now. People were fools that way.

 

By the time she changed into her nightgown, she was exhausted. She had things to do now. Years of practise helped her get to sleep with ease, and the step into tel’aran’rhiod was small. Here she only had to wait for Michael to appear. She hadn’t decided what kind of nightmare she was going to give him yet, but she’d already decided that it would be good. What she had done to him at the Fortress would seem like child play compared to what she would do to him now. The words he had spoken earlier were still fresh in her mind, fuelling her desire to make him pay.

 

Yet when his dream appeared in the dreamscape, it already had the look and feel of a nightmare. It drifted towards her, like it had done right after Michael rescued her from her own foolishness. Odd as that was, Nyssa didn’t really pay attention to it. It was the dream itself that captivated her. Memories. Nightmares and memories, twined together into a particularly nasty dreams. Nyssa had woven dreams like that in the past, but not after doing a lot of research into her victim. Details were important here.

 

She saw plenty of details in the first part of the dream. A young boy with dark curled hair stood in the middle of the street, staring at a door. Though she didn’t recognise the street or the door, she realised that this was home to the boy, and that the boy was in fact Michael. She watched with him as the door went open and a man walked out of the house. A woman waved him goodbye. Mother. Both turned to look at Michael. Menacing looks, empathised by the way the man flexed his muscles, clearly threatening to hurt the boy if he ever dared to show up again.

 

The dream continued, showing her how the boy grew into a young man, taken in by thieves and becoming a thief himself. A conman. He was apparently good at what he did, until something changed. Insanity. Nyssa had toyed with it in dreams often enough to recognise it now. There was a fork in the road, where one led into the light, but also tasted of madness, and the other was dark, but safe. An easy choice, in the end. As the dream progressed, blinking in and out at times as Michael awoke from fright or pain, Nyssa found out that there was far more to him than she had guessed. It had also ‘saved’ him from Nyssa’s own torture. After a while she slipped out of the dreamscape, settling for a deeper sleep. At least one of them would be rested after this night.

 

~Nyssa Deschain

Dreamwalker

[Wayfarer]

Sleep, that was something that Michael had managed to find little of during the night. Instead of some much needed rest, he had found himself haunted by memories he'd walked away from and had long since been buried by time. It had been another lifetime, not to mention a couple of centuries ago. He was a different person now, he now had the power to take care of himself and to lead his own life. Not that he did precisely; he spent his life in service but he wasn't bitter about that. In serving he had found people he could trust not to turn their backs on him and that was something he treasured more than coin or power over others.

 

Small consolation during the night and into the morning as he awoke repeatedly to find himself drenched in a cold sweat. No respite to be found, Michael gave up on sleep altogether yet all that was left for him to do was lay there and thinking about his dreams was just as bad. Dreams... Had Nyssa done this?

 

Getting dressed quickly, Michael quietly made his way to Nyssa's room. Letting himself in, the door barely whispered as it closed behind him. There she was on the bed with her back to him, asleep and most likely prowling the world of dreams when she wasn't meant to be. He was going to make sure that she stayed out of his dreams one way or another. If he had to, he knew weaves which could make her sleep yet leave her unable to summon the will to enter the dreamworld. He would make sure tha-

 

She turned, and for a moment he thought she was waking from the small murmur that she let slip. But no, there she was with her eyes drawn shut and oblivious to Michael standing over her. Peaceful, calm, she looked li... Conflicting and nameless emotions arose within him as he looked down at her face. In the end, there was no victor from amongst these feuding feelings, only a sense of being utterly drained. Whatever his feelings it didn't matter, those were his memories and his doing, did it even really matter that she had been in there if she had at all?

 

That's what he needed to do. Instead of weaving what he had intended, he embraced saidin to weave a finding upon her shift. And it was within the void with his emotions burning brightly within the flame that Michael decided on what he needed to do. Leaving the room quietly, he was soon traveling far further than his feet could have carried him...

 

 

Looking through they eye of the bottle, Michael curled his lips in distaste and laid it aside. Unconcerned as it rolled about on the table, Michael took up the next bottle and began to work on the cork. Stupid idea, it always came at least one decade and he would think that he had mastered it. As usual, he was proven wrong and now all that was left to drink himself to sleep and hopefully to forgetfulness as well. Nyssa at least had a decent cellar, he'd helped himself to the worst of it so he wouldn't bother pausing over the taste.

 

Setting the bottle down for a moment, Michael thought he was going to retch but instead a burp broke the silence of the kitchen. He hadn't even bothered to start the fire, there was no need to as he planned on going back to sleep soon enough. Speaking of which, the bottle. The cork came this time, dropping to the floor where it skipped several times till it lay still. Yet before it could do so, Michael had already locked his lips upon the bottle. Feeling a burning at the back of his throat, he ignored it as he pushed through; it didn't matter.

 

He had to go look at the house again. Burn him for a fool but he had gone to look once more. More than two centuries and despite it being burned down on at least three occasions, there were some things that remained the same. The ground it rested upon, the cobbled stones that made its walls, the smells. Michael had been glad to see that it was empty this time as he had let himself in. Deserted in fact, no one lived there anymore and it had been picked clean, yet he could still remember where everything had once sat.

 

And what had happened there. Hastily lifting the bottle to his lips, it slipped from his grasp and he barely managed to recover it before it bounced out of reach. Too busy drinking from it to curse, Michael found himself wishing that Julie were here, or Thom. They were always there when he needed them, they would sit down and drink with him, or at least watch him drink. He hated drinking alone, hated it with a passion. It was one thing to drink with company, another to drink alone like some sad alcoholic that loved the wine and the vine more than anything or anyone else. Like...

 

Punching the table to let his anger out, Michael didn't see the bottle he'd laid on the table earlier almost roll off the table. In fact, Michael couldn't see much as his eyes blurred. Rubbing them angrily, more wine was his answer to it all. He hated the tears more than anything, it happened everytime and it was stupid. Raising the bottle, Michael was determined to finish it. Down it went, one swallow after the other until he almost felt ready to heave everything he had just swallowed.

 

But he didn't, he finished. Using one hand to help himself up, Michael hurled the bottle at the other one with a groan. The resulting smash as the two met then hit the floor would have made him wince if he were sober. As it was, he was busy making his way to the door, he needed to g-

 

Staggering, Michael's fall was quick as he flailed and twisted to try and save himself. The back of his head meeting stone and broken glass, the only sign he lived as he lost consciousness was the almost indiscernable rise and fall of his chest.

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

[Wayfarer]

The past few days had been hectic to say the least. Nyssa had managed to get under his skin, he'd almost hit her but not quite and been unsure about the entire thing. She'd found him that night on the beach still in nothing but his small clothes and half frozen to death. He'd taken a good amount of persuading to realise that maybe he hadn't been about to strike her, but there was still that fear inside of him. They'd walked very quietly around each other for a few days after that, unwilling to push things which would result in another incident. They both had alot of wounds, they needed to be approached more gently.

 

Of course, there were other needs as well. For Michael, that need was Nyssa, he was finding rather quickly that he disliked thoroughly the notion of being apart from her. A visit from Julie who had come to see whether he was alright had confirmed this, and led to heckling on her part as she had quickly realised what had happened. As far as he knew, Nyssa didn't know of Julie's visit, or the second one after that where she had delivered something to him. Of course, now all he had to do was summon up the courage for what had to happen.

 

A good reason to have asked Nyssa to meet him after an hour in the middle of the maze. He found himself questioning whether he could do the right thing, for it to go badly was something he feared more than anything else. He was sure now that that was the reason why his dreams had been so oppressive of late. Past memories and past pains, betrayal and being left alone for it were things that had happened to Michael all too many times. That was why he had to do what needed to be done, and had to be done now so he knew that he wouldn't be hurt again.

 

The grey skies above were filled with ominous clouds that seemed to blank out the sun, not a good omen as far as such things went. Normally Michael was not given to such superstition but like most people, when things seemed desperate one tried to draw strength from anything around them. The maze offered him little hope either. It had taken him half an hour just to find the centre again, and much of it still needing tending to. He would have touched it up himself if he wasn't worried about wrecking the maze, his one attempt to help had botched a wall and Nyssa had told him quite specifically not to touch the maze again after that.

 

All he could do was wait, and hope that he got through what was to come intact.

 

 

Michael Daemeau

Dreadlord

[silhouette]

The hardest thing about living with Michael now that they’d tried to deal with his dreams, and failed at that, was that Nyssa still didn’t know how she felt about that. In part she truly believed what she had told him that night on the beach. In part she very much wanted him to stay with her, and be with her for as long as he could. And yet there was doubt. Why was he really here? Who was he? She’d stayed out of his dreams from that night on, weaving her own tiny ward on them to keep them away from her as she wandered through the dreamworld herself. More doubts crept into her mind when Julie came and went, and came and went again, and Michael never mentioned any of these visits. What was he on about?

 

Such thoughts played in her mind as she wandered through the maze. She could be at the centre in no time, but she deliberately took the long route, avoiding the main paths and slowly circling towards the centre. So much fear and doubt, and yet… did it matter? Did it matter when she felt warm when he was around? Did it matter when she took comfort in his presence? The closer she came to the centre of the maze, the more she realised that it didn’t. There was still time for her to get to know Michael, and to wipe away the shreds of doubt that she still had. If he would stay, that was. The sound of her own heart beating felt overwhelming as she walked into the centre of the maze, and spotted Michael. He looked oddly nervous, but then again, she supposed she looked the same. “Hey.” She said, drawing his attention to her.

 

Looking to Nyssa as she called to him, he waved for her to come over and sit beside him. Taking her hands in his own, Michael needed a moment longer to summon his courage, something that Nyssa thankfully gave him. By the time he was ready to speak, he was able to look her in the eyes. "We've been together for awhile now. You've seen more of me than most have in at least half a century, and I suspect I've come closer to you than any other. I... love you, Nyssa, more than I have any other woman. But... I have my duties to Rasputin and the Aurani, after all the years they have given me I cannot turn my back on them. Things cannot last the way they stand now."

 

Things didn’t feel quite right as she sat down next to Michael. He was too nervous, too… frail, and for a moment she wondered if she hadn’t helped him as much as she thought she did. When he finally spoke, his words felt harsher than he had probably intended them. Every word felt sharp though, even when he said he loved her. Love. Had she even known it before now? Then he spoke of duty, and Julie’s visits came to mind again. Had she come to tell him that he was expected back at the fortress? She shivered at the thought of being here alone again. “Can’t you stay?” she asked, softer than she’d intended. “Can’t Rasputin find someone else to do your duty?” she knew that Michael had been with the Aurani for years. Didn’t that at least grant him more time here?

 

Michael shook his head. "No, there have been many times where I would have been dead without their help, and them without mine. Its not something I can walk away from." The look on Nyssa's face pained him, but there was no helping it. He had to be sure she knew how things stood before he went on. "I figured out the meaning of my dreams. Everyone I have ever allowed close to me... It has never ended well. Sometimes because I was a burden, others because I was used, others be- That doesn't matter now, this does."

 

Each word was a struggle, but Michael forced them out as he continued. "The reason I say this is because I don't want to be hurt again, and I need to be able to trust you, and you need to be able to trust me. Completely." The look in Nyssa's eyes made him wince, couldn't she give him that sort of trust? But there was no chance for backing out, it was now or never. Releasing her hands as he slipped off the fountain, he got on one knee as he slipped out of his coat pocket the ring that Julie had retrieved for him.

 

Looking up into Nyssa's face as all sorts of emotions flashed across her face, Michael pressed forward and hoped for the best. "Will you marry me?"

 

As Michael spoke of his duty and his past, Nyssa felt herself grow worried. What was he on about? Where was he heading? She steeled herself for the inevitable. Any moment now, Michael was going to say he couldn’t stay with her, because of his past, because he couldn’t trust her, because… any moment now, and it broke her heart. She’d be alone again in the house, which was no longer just her house. If she’d walk it’s halls, she’d just be reminded of him, and how he wasn’t there. She felt colder than she had when she walked into the ocean. Her hands fell into her lap when he released them. This was it then. She expected to hear the words, but they didn’t come.

 

Instead Michael kneeled in front of her, looked into her eyes, and proposed. For a moment it seemed like time had stopped. It was hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to see anything but his face, and hear anything but her own heartbeat. Marriage. When had things changed so much that she didn’t see things like this coming? She, the grand manipulator. She who always had an answer, always had a way out. She saw hope and fear in Michaels eyes, and realised that she didn’t have, and didn’t need a way out this time. She could commit to this. To him. “Yes.” She said, a tentative smile spreading on her face. The look on Michael’s face was wonderful. “I’ll marry you.” She said, trying to get used to the meaning of those words.

 

If it had been on someone else's face, Michael would have said the person was wearing a stupid smile that was completely lacking in intelligence. As it was himself, he would have said that Nyssa had made him so happy in that moment that didn't need to think. What he did instead was take her left hand and gently slipped the ring on her left ring finger. It was a simple gold ring and on the inside their names had been worked into it. Rasputin had done him the favour of forging it, it would outlast them more likely than not.

 

Standing, Michael pulled Nyssa into his embrace and kissed her gently. Breaking the contact, he was about to say something when Nyssa decided that a gentle kiss wasn't quite enough. Breathless as they parted, the stupid smile had turned into an even more empty headed grin. "So, when should we go ahead with the wedding? I think sooner is better, you?"

 

It was surprisingly hard to think. Nyssa decided to postpone it a bit and snuggle closer to Michael. After a minute or two, the meaning of his question started to make sense. When to do this? How to do this? “A month from now?” she half suggested and half asked. A month would work. She smiled at him again, amused by the way he looked at her and just generally happy. It was hard to remember that she’d been worried only moments ago. “So what does being married change? Does it mean you’ll stay here, instead of going back to the Fortress?”

 

Smiling fondly, Michael cupped her face with one hand while his other arm was wrapped around her waist. "Yes. We're marrying, it means I have a home here." His smile taking a sad turn, he continued. "My first home other than the Fortress since... forever really." She understood what he meant, and the sad thought couldn't last long. After two centuries of loneliness, as there had always been a bit of a barrier between even his friends and himself, there was someone to share everything with. That in itself was something he had never dared to hope for, yet had been the one thing he had truly needed more than anything. It had taken her to show him that.

 

Nyssa Deschain

 

Michael Daemeau

[silhouette]

Though she had said a month would be fine, she felt time slipping through her fingers far faster than she had expected now. From the moment Michael proposed to the moment the wedding would actually take place, their weeks had been filled with activity. One of the first things Nyssa had done was travel to Tar Valon, a risky thing that she didn’t inform Michael about, and have one of her contacts deliver a note to one of the few people she could actually miss from the White Tower. Vera Cadsanome had been a promising young sister when Nyssa left the White Tower, and she expected that the other woman would come as soon as possible. Hopefully in time to witness Nyssa and Michael’s wedding.

 

After that time hadn’t slowed at all. Now, one week from the moment the wedding would be, Nyssa found herself wishing for more time with just Michael as she prepared the manor for the arrival of some of their guests. Thom and Julie were more than welcome of course, but it would have been nice to enjoy these days without the company. She supposed there would be weeks, months and years afterwards for them to enjoy each others company though. “When will they be here?” she asked Michael, wondering if they would just skim here, or come by horse or boat.

 

Since they had agreed on a month till their wedding, things had proceeded at an agonisingly slow pace. Nyssa had effectively taken over preparations for the wedding save for a couple of things that she had quickly agreed to anyway. She had been fine with him inviting who he wished and with Rasputin officiating the ceremony. But then, while it was one thing to say that he didn't really get any say in things, the other side of the coin was that he didn't really want much of a say either. As long as Nyssa was happy, then he was happy.

 

It was while he was in the kitchen that Nyssa had come to see him. Working on dinner, he grinned at her question. "Tonight, thats why I'm cooking now. They'll stay with us and then Rasputin will come along with several of my friends from the shadarval a day or two beforehand. They'll travel or skim depending but they'll bring horses with them for the sake of appearances and ride the last few miles or so in." Reaching over, Michael stole a quick kiss before offering her a platter of biscuits that had an assortment of diced cheese, tomato and pickles. "Have something, you're going to work yourself thin as a sheet."

 

Nyssa took the plate and sat down at her table, watching Michael slave away over what would no doubt be a good meal. Nibbling away at the biscuits, she pondered some more on when to mention that she’d invited Vera as well. She realised now was as good a time as any. Having experienced Michaels dislike for all things Aes Sedai firsthand, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to it though. “ehm… Michael?” she started, apparently in her ‘I have something to confess’-voice, because when he turned to look at her, he looked suspicious. She gave him a harmless little smile. “Did I mention that one of my friends from… er… before is also coming to our wedding?”

 

Cursing, Michael dropped the knife as he nursed his finger. Looking for a nearby rag to wrap it up, he bound it tightly as he looked to Nyssa. That must have been a joke, but no, Nyssa wouldn't joke about something like that. He must have misheard her, that was it. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you properly. What did you say again?" He most definitely hadn't heard her properly, too much time cooking and not enough eating, he was going to wear down to a nub like Nyssa was endangering herself with. Reaching over to the platter, he got himself a biscuit, a cube of cheese and a bit of pickle as he listened to her.

 

This wasn’t going half as well as she’d hoped, or half as bad as she’d expected. He hadn’t fainted, and he hadn’t pitched a fit yet, which was probably a good sign. Or not. He might be saving it all up for later. she decided she had better ways to persuade him. Sidling up to him, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and smiled. “I said I’d invited a friend from before I left the White Tower over for the wedding. It’s no big deal, I’d just… like to have her around for this.”

 

Smiling as Nyssa wrapped her arms around him, it quickly turned to a frown as she spoke. A friend from before she left the White Tower, a her. He didn't like where this was going at all, he fervently wished the friend wasn't who he thought it was. Sighing as he wrapped his arms around Nyssa, he prepared himself for the worst. "This friend... She isn't an Aes Sedai by any chance? You know, one of those women who hunts people like me?"

 

Nyssa toyed with Michael’s hair for a moment, pondering on what answer would get the best response out of Michael. Nothing really came to mind, and she realised that at some point, she’d also have to tell them that there were two, and that one of them was a red sister. “Well, one of them was a bit of a mentor to me when I was still a Novice. She should be able to entertain you with lots of stories about the brat that was me. And the other is one of my sisters of the Gray ajah. She was under my wing for a while… until I left.” She smiled sweetly at Michael, which didn’t do much to make him look more positive. “Surely it won’t be a problem. You know Aes Sedai never look into things deeply enough, and besides they’ll be too distracted by the fact that I’m alive and getting married to notice anything.”

 

Michael's frown deepened. The story had changed very quickly. It had started off with a friend as in a singular woman, and now it was two Aes Sedai. One of which was the Gray Ajah, and the other one was... What was she? It was really distracting having Nyssa's fingers running through his hair but he was quite happy with that and where she was. Unfortunately it was distracting him and making it hard for him to focus. "A Gray sister from your ajah, alright... And what ajah is this other one from?" Michael's tone was decidedly guarded, Nyssa wasn't one to wait until telling him something unless it had the potential to be disastrous.

 

After a moment of silence Nyssa decided that she might as well get the worst news out of the way now so that she could work on convincing Michael that it was necessary for them to be there, and for them to leave in one piece again. “She’s a Red sister. But don’t worry, she won’t suspect anything as long as you don’t channel right in front of her. You had me fooled for days when you said you couldn’t channel, I’m sure you could fool her as well. And we can keep them away from the other guests… And I’m sure they won’t stay long…” her voice got smaller and smaller with every word, even taking on a pleading tone at the end.

 

He knew right then he shouldn't be happy with what Nyssa had said, in fact he wasn't happy at all. On the other hand he was finding it very difficult to be angry with her. Who else was she going to invite? She had allowed very few people close, it was natural that they would be sisters of the Tower. Unfortunately, the fact she had invited them meant they weren't Black Ajah which then meant they would not approve of Michael or any of those he had invited if they realised. And there was Julie in particular, they would be able to sense her.

 

But, he couldn't be angry about it. Instead, he sighed and hugged her, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as he thought about it. There were ways around anything if one thought hard enough, but it was going to be troublesome. "Thats it? Just two? A sister who is trained to ferret out secrets and play the game, and a second whose primary purpose is to find male channelers and gentle them? I don't have to worry about a third sister do I?"

 

There was a lack of shouting in Michaels response, which Nyssa decided to take as something positive. “Just two. A sister trained to ferret out secrets and play the game by me, and one that won’t be able to do anything against a male channeller all by herself even if she tried.” Nyssa pondered on the situation some more. “And we can always tell Julie not to channel while she’s here. I’m sure she’d like that. In fact, I think you should be the one to tell her.”

 

While he couldn't see her face, Michael could feel her cheek growing taut as she was no doubt grinning about her last comment. Yes, telling Julie she couldn't channel at all, that was sure to go down well. And by go down well, Michael meant that he was more than likely going to be clubbed with the nearest thing that came to hand. But, Julie would have to or there would be trouble, simple as that. Julie definitely wouldn't make trouble for him over his wedding with Nyssa, as far as he was concerned no one was going to wreck their day. "Yes love." His tone revealed he was resigned to his fate. But then, without give and take nothing could work.

 

Nyssa felt a little twinge of guilt when she heard Michaels tone. She realised it would be hard on him to have Aes Sedai wandering about, but she hadn’t wanted to get married without anyone there for her. In a way she realised she needed no one, now that she was allying herself with Michael, but she just hadn’t liked the thought of going into this without at least some support from the people that had mattered to her in her past life. “It’ll be fine.” She said, turning her head and kissing Michael on the cheek. “They’ll be too busy fussing over the wedding to worry about anything else. They’re women, after all.”

 

Laughing, Michael kissed her in turn on the nose. He knew full well that with the Aes Sedai coming, it would take more effort than that. Each of his friends would require a coverstory, one that would match them yet also be difficult to trace. Rasputin and the shadarval could easily enough conceal themselves as members of the Red Guard, they did so enough times when hiring themselves out as mercaneries in the westlands. Thom and Julie would be more difficult. Perhaps Julie could play the role of his sister but Thom... That could be worked out when they got to it. "Now you're making jokes about women? I thought that was my domain." Kissing her again, he continued. "It will take work, but its doable."

 

Though she felt that Michael was underestimating the amount of womanliness that would go on at a wedding, she decided to let it slide for now. At least he hadn’t said no against their presence at the wedding, which was good, because then they’d have to argue about it, and they’d done so well at avoiding that so far. “How did Thom and Julie react to hearing about us?” she hoped she could get his mind on other things for the time being. There would be plenty of time to worry about Aes Sedai later.

 

Chuckling, Michael smiled as he ran a hand down her side. "Julie was surprised then began to heckle me, and the first words she's probably going to say to you are that I'm the worst idea ever and you should run away before vows are said. Thom was quite surprised but he wasn't so quick to have a dig. Then again, he did get in a few choice comments on how lucky I was. I couldn't disagree with him there." Planting a quick kiss on her, Michael pulled away from their embrace and tossing aside the rag he had used to cover up his cut, he took up the knife and got back to work. "They both approve though, deep down, even if they think you may be making a mistake."

 

“Oh, I doubt you’re that bad a mistake.” Nyssa said with a merry twinkle in her eyes. “You’re a decent cook, and you keep my bed warm. What more can a woman want?” she laughed a the look on his face. “What of Rasputin? Did he approve?” she could think of a few reasons why he wouldn’t, considering his own marriage to a Black Sister. “I can imagine he wasn’t too pleased to ‘lose’ one of his finest men to a manipulative Aes Sedai.”

 

Smiling, Michael laid aside the knife as he finished, the last of the diced tomato and pickle going onto the platter as he spoke. "Rasputin approved, he thinks its time I settled down and that you'll keep me on my toes. More often than not I find myself on my back though, but he doesn't need to know that." Grinning at Nyssa and the face she pulled at him, he wandered over to her again and with her back to the bench he put a hand either side of her to trap her against it as he smiled. "You're trying to distract me, what else is going on hmm?" Leaning forward he kissed her neck slowly starting low and working his way up as he spoke. "Come now, you can tell me."

 

So it seemed as though everyone approved. Nyssa was quite sure that Carise and Vera, should they ever learn the truth, wouldn’t be as pleased with this union. Then again, Nyssa doubted they’d be pleased if they ever found out that Nyssa had been on the opposing side for over a century now. Such thoughts fled her mind instantly when Michael started making work of getting another secret out of her. “It was going to be a surprise.” She said, smirking at him. He would have none of it though. “Oh, all right. I have a cousin living in Mayene. I sent him a note inviting him over. I don’t know if he’ll be there though.” She hadn’t been particularly close to this cousin, but she had thought it would be nice to show Michael a little part of the web she’d built up.

 

Michael Daemeau

 

Nyssa Deschain