Friends and Lovers (Elan)

[Sunny]

Jaryd

“You didn’t honestly believe that Ward would stop me, did you?”

A woman sat facing away from Jaryd on the other side of a long chamber. As he spoke she turned to face him, sitting back in her chair with her elbows resting on the armrests and her fingers steepled in front of her chest. “It brought you to this room, so mission accomplished. I half expected you to bring the palace down around my ears without so much as a how do you do.”

Jaryd tilted his head as he slipped further into the room. “Maybe I needed to know the the truth before I put you in the ground again,” he responded. After a moment he added, “I watched you burn, Marisa.”

The swarthy woman laughed as she pushed herself to her feet. “Does it hurt your feelings that the flames didn’t stick?” The woman glided forward, pausing just outside arm’s reach to study him like a farmer might study a new mule. “The great and powerful Jaryd, Head of the Red Ajah, unable to set a common girl on fire. That’s a terrible premise for a story; I suppose it’s good you have no children to tell it to.”

The Asha’man grit his teeth. Anger had no place in this discussion.

She reached out, fingers brushing the black stone at his throat before Jaryd could step away. “You still wear my necklace. I’m touched, but isn’t that a tad inappropriate? I would think with a new lover in the picture you’d leave such trinkets behind.” The Void trembled, but Jaryd’s face remained calm. She couldn’t possibly- “That blonde you found is simply delicious,” Marisa purred. “Not quite your usual fare, is he? I hate to continue this trend you have of tragically losing your lovers, but you make it so easy. Does he know what he’s-” Marisa’s words cut off in a startled yelp as a wall of Air slammed through the room and knocked her off her feet.

Perhaps anger had its place after all.

---

The Gateway rotated closed.

The contrast between the brilliant sun of Ebou Dar and the lamplight in his room rendered the slender man nearly blind, but he felt his way to his couch and tumbled forward with a relieved sigh. His hair and clothes were a mess; he would need to change soon. For now, however, he simply wanted to rest. Dark eyes fluttered closed and for a time he drifted in and out of consciousness, playing back the fight in thoughts and dreams.

An odd sound began to infiltrate his musings. The Asha’man frowned, glancing around for the source before realizing it came from the door. A key in the lock? A key...? For a moment he floundered. No one could get into his rooms. No one even tried anymore; his Wards had made sure of that. Why would someone try now? Marisa, perhaps, when she found she could not follow him within. But she didn’t have a key. No one did except-

Jaren.

An electric shock thrummed through his body and Jaryd pushed himself upright in a tangle of wiry limbs. How could it be? It had only been a few years, a short time frame by anyone’s standards. Tia? It had to be. No one else had the guts to stand up to the Amyrlin like that. A thousand confused thoughts flashed through his elated mind until Jaryd remembered the Dreadlord’s mocking threat. Sobriety returned and for a breath the Red considered simply Traveling away. If it would keep the Andoran safe, keep him alive, better to be-

“His choice, not yours, knucklehead,” he muttered. "When will you learn?" Then the door was opening and the Creator himself couldn’t have forced the Altaran to move.

[Elan]

Jaren

There were many things that crowded a newly raised Asha’man’s mind, and Jaren was no exception. As far as lifestyle was concerned, this was a bigger change than the one from Soldier to Dedicated; though nobody ever stopped learning, this marked the end of his time as a student of the Grey Tower. He was now officially… what, a grown-up? The thought made him laugh out loud in the silence of his new quarters.

What was he even going to do with all this space?

That, however, was a question for later consideration. Because as much as there might be a lot of things on his mind, there was really only one he thought he could focus on right now. A delicate chain around his neck held the key Jaryd had given him, and it seemed to burn against his skin, demanding… and, Light, he wanted nothing more than to run to Jaryd right now—

The realisation that literally nothing was stopping him was a little bewildering.

After you claim your Ajah and the dust has settled… Jaryd’s words from that day echoed in his mind. I cannot promise I will not seek you out to demand what is mine. Jaren chuckled. The dust had settled, only to be stirred up again — it never did seem to stay settled for long — but this time it didn’t end with Jaren doing laundry. Instead, he’d gained the Dragon pin and the cord of the Yellow Ajah, a delighted welcome from Maever and the others he now called brothers and sisters, and…

And the freedom to finally… to finally…

There was no mirror in the room but a simple weave of Illusion provided a serviceable one, allowing him to confirm what he already knew; his uniform was pristine and his hair was… as good as it was going to get. He let the weave dissolve and turned around, heading out of the door.

Out of the Yellow Ajah quarters to the Red’s. It was strange, walking these halls as an Asha’man; the learning ranks were closely watched almost where ever they went, but with the final pin on his collar and the Yellow cord on his shoulder, nobody seemed to question his right to be exactly where he was. That was going to take some getting used to, he thought a little wryly after sidestepping out of the way of an Aes Sedai, ready to apologise… only to realise that she didn’t look twice at him.

…And then he was at Jaryd’s door. Suddenly anxious, he stared at the door for a solid minute, mind blank. Was he going to just… waltz in? Should he knock? Light, how did he even know Jaryd would be there? He’d look a right fool standing in the hallway if Jaryd was out of the Tower entirely. But could he just—

Jaryd had given him a key.

Jaryd had given him the key for a reason.

Shaking his head to banish his doubts — and that worked exactly as well as you’d expect — he used the key to open the door. The first thing that registered as Jaren cautiously stepped in was the scent of incense, strong and slightly exotic to the Andoran’s senses, and very… very Jaryd. Jaren smiled. “…Jaryd?” he called out quietly, letting the door close behind him.

He’d only gone a step or two, his eyes adjusting to the dim lamplight, when he saw—

“Jaryd!”

For a moment Jaren felt like he’d stepped off a cliff, finding nothing but thin air where he’d expected solid ground. He had no recollection of crossing the space between them or seizing saidin, but then he was right in front of Jaryd, taking the Red’s head between his hands even as he formed the weave for Delving…

It took him some seconds to realise what the weave was telling him. Jaryd was unharmed; the blood wasn’t his. Jaren let his hands fall back to his sides, let go of saidin and the Void — Light, he couldn’t have held on to the Void if he tried — as he drew a slightly shaky breath, then released it in a half-chuckle. “I-I’m sorry,” he said, though he couldn’t have said what for. Panicking? The sight of Jaryd, covered in blood, had hit a little too close to…

Never stop smiling.

He shook his head with a quick smile. “I admit this is not quite how I imagined our reunion, but, Light, I’ll take it. What happened to you? Are... are you alright?” Delving was only good for assessing one's physical state, after all.

[Sunny]

Jaryd is absolutely fantastic, thank you

Jaryd stood to face Jaren as the flows of saidin faded from his body, unable and unwilling to hide his delight despite the younger man’s obvious fear. “Are you alright?” A question for the Ages, that one. He supposed he couldn’t fault the Andoran’s concern given the condition of his garments; how many people had he fought, anyway?

His care for the man in front of him soon overcame any thought of Shadowsworn, however. The Red studied Jaren’s face intently, searching for any sign of what had transpired. The Stair could be brutal, worse than the Arches by mind-bending orders of magnitude. How had the new Asha’man fared? I should have been there! Then again...perhaps it was better, after all the waiting and worry, that he hadn’t been. Could I have actually watched him walk into that test? Probably not.

Lamplight caught in Jaren’s hair, outlined his body, glittered on the dragon pin at his throat. Jaryd’s lips twitched up as he took in the serpentine figure. Whatever the Stair had shown him, Jaren had passed. Jaren had passed and he had used the key. Something lurched in the Red’s chest at that thought, a joy so strong it nearly hurt. He took a deep breath and reached up, palm brushing the Andoran’s jaw.

“You do seem to have a habit of finding me just as I’ve been knocked on my arrogant ass, don’t you?” He said with an unsteady laugh. “I fought a Dreadlord this morning...I’ll tell you about it, I swear, but right now,” his free hand slipped around the Yellow’s waist, pulling him closer. “Right now I have something else far more important I need to do.”

And with that the Altaran wrapped his fingers through pale curls and pulled the other man’s mouth against his own. No falling chandeliers or angry Amyrlins this time, no drunken dancers or Shadow plot to interrupt them. He could kiss his lover as long as he liked...and so, Jaryd did.

[Elan]

Jaren

Jaryd had done what? Fought a Dreadlord, well, that was basically in the Red’s job description, but what made him think he could just throw it out there as an aside and move on to—

Then Jaren was pulled closer, Jaryd’s hand was gripping his hair, Jaryd’s mouth was on his… and all thoughts of protesting vanished completely. Jaren’s arms came up around Jaryd as if of their own accord and he held on to him like a drowning man, almost unable to believe that he was finally here; that Jaryd was here, warm and real and so beautiful it hurt; that nobody was going to barge in and interrupt them…

Hopefully, at least.

The Wheel might as well have stopped turning as far as Jaren was concerned. The kiss quickly deteriorated into something desperate and needy, a thing of raw emotion. Jaren’s fingers curled helplessly, grasping the fabric of Jaryd’s shirt. All he cared about was Jaryd; all he wanted was to never let go, to be closer—

But they had all the time in the world. No chandeliers, no Amyrlins; Jaren forced himself to remember that. There was no need to rush. He broke the kiss, breathing hard, and pulled back just enough to look at Jaryd properly. Light, he looked like he’d been through hell and back, but… happy? Yes; that was the emotion that shone through the exhaustion, making the dark eyes so alive. Jaren brushed dark curls back from the other man’s face, traced the line of his jaw with his thumb… and kissed him again. Only briefly, this time; then he let his head fall forward, forehead resting against Jaryd’s.

And he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Well, until he remembered the Dreadlord. That made him sober up. He’d always known Jaryd’s work was dangerous — as long as he’d known about the Red Ajah — and he wouldn’t dream of asking Jaryd to stop fighting for what he believed in just to keep him safe… But did that mean it was going to be easy?

Maybe not easy, but absolutely, without a doubt, worth it.

He smiled again; not the smile of unthinking bliss, but bright nonetheless. “I’m sorry to spoil the mood but you said something about a Dreadlord? You’ll forgive me if I’m a little concerned, I hope.”

[Sunny]

Jaryd

You came to me. That truth hovered at the edge of consciousness, giving every touch and caress new meaning. How could Jaryd hope to describe what it evoked within him? In the moment he felt no need to try; better to demonstrate with lips and hands and body, returning what Jaren gave him in kind. The thousand and one speculations and distractions that usually inhabited the Altaran’s mind faded away and his entire attention focused on just one thing...one person...who wore the key to his everything around his neck.

They broke apart eventually. Panting and abruptly feeling more vulnerable than he ever had in his life, Jaryd stared into blue-gray eyes and tried to form words. Nothing came, but then, Jaren didn’t seem to expect anything. Their next kiss was brief and strangely calming; when the other man spoke, it seemed natural to break the silence.

Not that the question was particularly easy to answer; Jaryd’s smile faded as he considered how to respond. Marisa’s mocking words tugged at the Altaran’s heart. She hadn’t finished her taunt, but she hadn’t needed to. Everything was a weapon to the Shadow...everything.

Jaryd sank back onto the couch, tugging Jaren with him. “I was never in danger,” he told the Yellow, his confidence in that fact unfeigned and unmistakable. “But...yes, I did. Her name is Marisa, so I suppose she’s more accurately a Dreadlady,” he said. How utterly surreal to refer to Marisa that way...yet she had made that choice. His voice hardened. “I am stronger than she, but she tricked me,” he admitted. “Marisa pushed me until I had to choose whether to fight her guards or risk killing innocents with saidin to capture her. She knows me far too well; while I fought, she escaped.”

While he spoke he had been playing with Jaren’s hands, dark fingers intertwining with light, then pulling free, only to slide together once more. “What of you?” He asked softly, pulling one hand free to touch the dragon at the new Asha’man’s throat. “I am not the only one who’s had an interesting morning.”

[Elan]

Jaren

Jaren sat back on the couch as he listened to Jaryd’s story. His eyes were drawn to their intertwined hands, a part of him still marvelling at the situation. He was really here, with Jaryd, and it wasn’t a perfect fairytale reunion or a dream — his dreams, at least the good ones, had certainly never involved Dreadlords — but it was real and that made it better than anything his imagination could have conjured.

He was still concerned, of course. Maybe Jaryd was right that he’d never been in any danger — Jaren was sure the Red knew what he was about — but Jaren couldn’t say he liked the idea of a Dreadlord who knew Jaryd well enough to play games with him. She knows me far too well. Whatever their history, the two were now on the opposite sides of a war and it was probably too much to hope that Jaryd had seen the last of her.

But there was nothing Jaren could do about that, and certainly not right now. He smiled at Jaryd’s question. “Interesting is one word for it,” he agreed. He sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Well. It wasn’t easy, of course. The tests are not designed to be easy. But…” He looked at Jaryd again and his smile was perhaps a touch wry. “I’m not just trying to sound tough when I say it wasn’t that bad, you know? I much prefer a test where passing doesn’t feel like failure. If that makes any sense.” He’d come out of the Stair with a sense of accomplishment instead of the crushing failure and anxiety he’d lived with for months after the Arches and which he could still recall all too well if he thought about it.

Again, he couldn’t help wondering how real any of what either of the ter’angreal showed you was. Most of the people involved in the tests had been people he knew and cared about; it made sense that the ter’angreal would pull the details of such people from his mind, if that’s how it worked, but what about the people he’d never heard about? Did the ter’angreal make them up or did they exist somewhere? “There’s not anybody called Mael Akashi in the Red Ajah, is there?” he asked distractedly. Then he shook his head with a smile. “Not that it’s important right now.” Only Jaryd was.

[Sunny]

Jaryd is Insufferable

Jaryd listened in silence, his eyes intent on Jaren’s face. He took in every subtle change in expression, every shift in his gaze and every movement of the other man’s lips as he spoke. The Andoran did not seem distressed. If anything, he seemed...solid. Certain. Was that how I felt after I passed the Stair? The Red couldn’t remember. Many things had happened in rapid succession after his raising, none of them good. At least it seemed unlikely Jaren would have to endure similar events.

Satisfied that the younger man wasn’t hiding any kind of lasting trauma behind his bright smile, Jaryd’s thoughts shifted from concern to appreciation. Do you have any idea how perfect you are? The knowledge that Jaren would object to that label only underscored its truth in the Altaran’s mind. The thought of watching the Andoran’s cheeks burn pink proved irresistible; Jaryd opened his mouth to share his thoughts, but Jaren spoke first.

“There’s not anybody called Mael Akashi in the Red Ajah, is there?” The change in tone, not to mention the question itself, yanked the Altaran back to earth. He blinked, trying to form a coherent response, but Jaren had already moved on. “Not that it’s important right now.”

“The Black Tower, not the Red Ajah,” Jaryd responded without thought. “He’s Kandori; I’ve been tracking him-” He paused as he put together the pieces of what Jaren had been saying. This Akashi had to have made an appearance in Jaren’s Stair...as Red Ajah? Curious. Sharing his Ajah with Astoria was discomforting enough; sharing it with a Black Tower Asha’man sounded like torture. “If you decide he is important after all, I have notes to share.”

He gave the Andoran a wicked smile, his fingers curling into the other man’s coat and pulling at him until their lips nearly touched once more. “After we’ve each finished making sure the other is real, if you don’t mind.” The words were teasing and smoky, his dark eyes intent on gray-blue.

The kiss that followed quickly became something else entirely. As their bodies wound together, Marisa’s jibe came back to him. Does he know what he’s getting himself into. Did he? For a moment the Red hesitated, wondering if he should try to tell Jaren about the reality of his life. Then there were lips on his throat and hands in his hair and coherent thought became an impossibility.

-

They lay in a tangle of limbs and bedclothes, vulnerable and content in casual intimacy. When Marisa’s words crossed his mind once more, Jaryd sighed softly as he realized what he had to do. “My way of life is dangerous,” he said in a quiet tone, “and the Shadow knows my care for you runs deeper than a drunken kiss in a ballroom.” His free hand strolled through golden curls as his eyes memorized the face watching him so intently. “If that isn’t a danger you wish to face each day, I understand.”

Of all the things he had said in his life, Jaryd thought that might have been the hardest to force past his lips.

[Elan]

Jaren is not much better tbh

All thoughts of academic interest and ter’angreal realities vanished as Jaryd pulled him close again. The Red’s voice, when he spoke again, set Jaren’s blood on fire, and then there was very little thought of anything at all for the next while.


Afterwards they lay together in comfortable silence. Feeling pleasantly drowsy but not wanting to drift off to sleep, Jaren watched Jaryd with a faint smile playing across his lips. Light, was it even possible to have something so perfect as this? Surely this was cheating, somehow. Making sure the other is real? Jaren thought that might take a while yet, but sure enough this was a good start.

When he saw the change in Jaryd’s expression, a part of him wanted to say, no, not yet; whatever it is, let’s not think about it for a while longer… But of course, that was never an option. He’d always known that Jaryd’s work wouldn’t be compatible with a peaceful domestic life, and he’d long ago chosen to live with the fact. Now he only needed to convince Jaryd to let him.

As Jaryd spoke, Jaren’s hand found his, fingers lacing together. Once Jaryd was done, it still took Jaren a moment to find the words, no matter how this was exactly the kind of thing he’d expected. “Jaryd…” he began. “I know.” Light, he wanted to assure Jaryd everything would be fine, to banish the uncertainty in the dark eyes. “I know. Maybe not in every detail, but I do. And I’m…” He trailed off, flashing a wry smile. “Well, to say that I’m not afraid might not be entirely true— Light, sometimes I’m so afraid of losing you.”

He realised his hold on Jaryd’s hand had tightened a little too much for comfort, and made his fingers uncurl, relax. Gently, he brought Jaryd’s hand to his lips, kissing the scarred fingers almost reverently. “I’m also afraid that they’ll use me to get to you,” he went on. “But… Light, I’m saying this all wrong, aren’t I? What I’m trying to say is that I won’t let that fear take this from me. Maybe I could have a safer life without you in it, but, Jaryd—” He shook his head. “I don’t want to. I choose you. I chose you years ago, and I’m not going back on that.”

[Sunny]

Jaryd

On reflection, Jaryd supposed it was absurd to be worried Jaren would abandon him over the nebulous danger presented by the Dark One. How many hours had they spent together before that fateful day in the ballroom? The Andoran knew him better than most still living in the Tower and still he had chosen to wait. For years.

I’m afraid of losing you...I’m also afraid they’ll use me to get to you. Jaren’s mouth on his fingers temporarily robbed the dark man of the capacity to speak, think, or even breathe. Liquid fire flashed through his body and he melted back against the bed with a groan, eyes half closed and his mind in a fog that got more scrambled with every passing second.

His lover finished him off with words a moment later: I choose you. I chose you years ago, and I’m not going back on that. The Red stared up at the ceiling as he took in what that meant. His heart pounded in his ears as his chest rose and fell; it felt like the sound filled the entire world.

Eventually he turned to face Jaren once more, his head pillowed on one crooked arm. “I waited, too, you know,” he said. “It was only fair...and I wanted to.”

The Andoran broke into a smile and Jaryd reached out to trace his lips. “You smiled just so the first time you touched saidin. You took my breath away from that moment on.” He chuckled. “In some ways I’m grateful for the bloody Shadow, because without it we wouldn’t have...this.” He waved vaguely at their tangled forms, the light in his eyes unmistakable, before his arm snaked around the Andoran.

“If Shadowsworn so much as breathe on you because of me, I swear I will make them rue the day they were born. But,” and his voice shifted from black threat to cheerful humor in a heartbeat, black eyes beginning to twinkle. “I will do my best not to be too protective unless you someday choose to bond me.” He gave the other man a rapid, teasing kiss, teeth grazing his lower lip before breaking free once more. “I make no promises in that circumstance.”

[Elan]

Jaren

Jaren chuckled as Jaryd mentioned the ill-fated ball. Light, that had been… Jaren had only been a Soldier, then; he’d been summoned to enter the Three Arches the next day, yes, but still a Soldier. “All it took was a chandelier falling on our heads,” he mused. Well, a chandelier and a mutilated corpse and a drug that had made the entire Tower go crazy… but effectively, a chandelier. “I think… I think that was when I finally realised that I loved you. That I wanted… this.”

To think that the evening might have ended on a wildly different note if Jaryd hadn’t been drunk enough to dance with a Soldier. Jaren banished the thought of Tristram Baryn — not today — and, really, Jaryd made it very easy to not think about anyone or anything else.

Jaren smiled again. “I wouldn’t expect you to change who you are,” he said softly, idly tangling his fingers in Jaryd’s hair. “I… understand.” Because he felt the same way. Light, he wanted to protect Jaryd, though he was hardly qualified to even entertain such a thought. His smile turned a little wry. “I keep wanting to ask you to stay safe, but that’s hardly in the job description of a Red, now, is it.” And Jaryd’s least of all.