Flowers in the Window [[Dax]]

[Chris]

Le Maever This wasn't exactly the time or place Maever anticipated learning the sword. He had in his mind a romantic training montage where they learned atop mountains overlooking the world, or in the middle of thick forests with gentle streams and the smell of minty grass. Or even by the sea, the salty air whipping around them. The training would be dramatic and fantastic at the same time. Gummy was there too.

But this worked as well. Maever should have accepted that he was average, and his own training would be as well. But that was okay, because it was still being given by Blademaster Dakson. Maever had no objections to going through the basics again, because it was always good to be reminded of these things and it wasn't as if Maever had a great memory to remember these things from his Soldier and Dedicated days.

Besides, if he did have any objections, it wasn't as if he was going to voice them...

The Illianer was nervous when it came to lifting the blade himself. Not because he was unfamiliar with it or that he had not used it for some time, simply because he was in front of Blademaster Dakson and he did care for what the man thought. He didn't want to let the man down, after all. It do be fine. You do no be an expert, that do be why you do learn with him! Leaving his outrageous ego at the door, Maever was better able to relax and get more out of the session. He listened to instruction, always eager to please, happy to change himself to appease other people. Positive reinforcement made the Illianer work harder, and he got a lot out of his session, knowing that he would remember much of this when he studied in his own time afterwards.

His corrections were always met with an apology, a force of habit really said more because he was used to it than because he felt it within the very core of his being. But there it was. "Sorry Blademaster Dakson," "of course Blademaster Dakson, you do be right," "I will try harder Blademaster Dakson". This seemed to irk the man until he eventually spoke up, which was enough to make Maever forget the stance he was supposed to be in. Instead, big blue eyes blinked at the Blademaster with surprise, and his mouth opened as he worked past his embarrassment at being told off, to his confusion.

"But..." here the Illianer chose his words carefully, thinking it through. "If you do no want to be more than Dax, then why do you be a Blademaster? Why do you be having the tattoos? Why do you stay at the Grey Tower?" It wasn't asked in a malicious way, it was asked with the sort of confusion that often befell an Illianer trying to understand the world around him. A Blademaster was a Blademaster, it really was as simple as that. Unless... oooh! Maybe he wanted to just be Blademaster Dax?

[Sunny]

If some omnipresent being had been monitoring Dax and Maever’s thoughts throughout the preceding hours of their currently shared life, that being might have been amused at how similarly each reacted to the other’s unexpected behavior. As it was, if such a being existed it was incapable of commentary, and therefore the two men remained blissfully ignorant of their mental parallels.

Instead, Dax stopped mid-movement, head canted to the side as he considered the Asha’man’s questions. He had expected another ‘I’m sorry Blademaster Dakson’ or to be completely ignored, not…curiosity. He certainly had not thought to be asked questions that he himself did not rightly know the answer to. Maever would not be Asha’man if he did not understand why men question themselves. Light, the man had shared an Ajah with Liza and Seth; he already had more mental fortitude than Dax could imagine.

“You make me sound a hero,” the Tairen said finally, “but I was a sellsword and a murderer when I came to the Tower for sanctuary; hardly the material of legends.” He gave a short laugh. “Eventually I met a woman who made it worth the effort to earn my cloak; I never would have stayed the course on my own. The herons I got in the fighting circles in Baerlon. That was a matter of brutal chance; had I known what I faced, I would not have engaged.” That was perhaps not entirely true. He had needed that gold to buy Katrie a ring...but would he have been willing to risk his life to get it? Maybe.

He brought the sword up, falling into Apple Blossoms on the Wind as his attention shifted from past to present. “My ink is fading, my woman is gone, and it will be a snowy day in the Waste before I choose to bond again. I will always be Dax, however, no matter what oddities life may throw my way. That is why that is all I wish to be.”

He shook his head slowly. “Don’t you ever grow weary of being defined by your title or your Ajah, Maever?” he asked. “Doesn’t it ever bother you that people see you only as an Asha’man, and not as another human being?”

[Chris]

Maever did not have much ability when it came to listening and using the sword. He was a listener first and foremost, a product of his Ajah and his tendency to listen to everyone else. The Illianer held his sword with the pointy end down, hands on the hilt as Dax spoke. He dismissed his achievements, pinned his fortune on a woman, and had sworn himself away from ever bonding again. It was a sorry state of affairs and Maever felt for the man - how sad he had to be, to swear away from the bond! How much hurt had he endured to turn his back on the thing that most Warders yearned for? Maever bit his lip, realised he was doing it, and made his expression more neutral again.

The question directed at Maever was a simple one to answer, and the Illianer had no trouble with it. "I did come to the Grey Tower to be an Asha'man," he said. "I do no be a fighter in the traditional sense... but I did fight for where I do be today. I did claw myself forwards inch by inch, trial after trial. It did get difficult, and there do be many times that I did think to myself that I would quit, but I did no. I did persevere, and I did fight. I did defeat the Arches, and the Stairs, and I did earn my right to be called an Asha'man. I do be proud of it, and I would no change it for anything. I do be ever so happy to be a member of the Yellow Ajah!" He was Oathsworn, but the Illianer's voice was nothing but sincere anyway. He was always an honest fellow who said what was in his heart.

"If people do be seeing a black coat rather than a person, then that do be okay. I do be knowing that if they do take the time to get to know me, they will see someone different." The Illianer gave a gentle smile, roused to a less pale complexion by his previous talking. "I do be seeing you differently, Dax." There was a pause as he let the name sink in, but it seemed to be better, more fitting. Blademaster Dakson was his title, and Blademaster Dakson was who he set out on this journey with, but now he was seeing Dax in all his glory for the first time. Less shiny, more real, but better for it. Maever liked this version a lot more, and called him the appropriate name. He was seeing the faded tattoo instead of the glistening idealised one he saw in his mind, but there was a more tangible quality to it, something Maever could relate to. When it came to heartache and loss, people understood it. It was universal. Why, the Arches revolved around loss and longing. It made one more compassionate, on the other side of it all.

"But," he went on, riding that road of openness they seemed to have, "if you do no be looking to bond again, and if you do no be interested in that sort of thing, why do you be still at the Grey Tower? I do be sure the other Warders would miss your expertise, but do you be needing to stay?"

Gummy let out a snort, and Maever chuckled a little. Oh Gummy and his insights!

[Sunny]

Dax slowly lowered his blade as Maever spoke. The man’s words were kind, yet they assaulted not just the Tairen’s idea of the Yellow Ajah, but also everything he had ever known about channeler training, Asha’man themselves, and even, to a degree, himself. Did every channeling initiate of the Tower feel that fierce pride in their accomplishment? Did they all work so hard to earn their title? No. He knew they didn’t. Maever, however...it had never occurred to Dax how hard the pleasant-faced man would have had to work to earn what most of the world considered a title founded on violence.

Around the time the Asha’man declared his love of his Ajah, the Tairen sheathed the weapon entirely, swordplay forgotten in the face of the unexpected wisdom being shared. Of course, Maever chose that moment to shift the topic back to Dax. The Gaidin listened, but he also subconsciously shifted about until he could rest his back against a tree. The gesture might have seemed an effort to relax, but the sellsword knew the real reason even if he couldn’t admit it even to himself: he felt vulnerable and needed to know his back was covered.

“I’ve thought about leaving, of course.” he said finally, spreading his hands. His eyes fell to study the leather that covered his forearms. “That’s one of the reasons I take paid work; I will need my own source of income, after all, if I’m to make it on my own. However, I was offered a number of larger opportunities over the last year and I have turned them all down. When it came down to it I didn’t...I couldn’t...do it.” He paused, visibly searching for words as his fingers absently tugged at his bracers.

“The person I was twenty years ago didn’t give a damn about words spoken over a sword,” he continued slowly. “If you could pay me you had my service until someone offered a higher price or I felt the risk outweighed the benefit.” His eyes flicked about the clearing. Clearly that particular attitude had shifted, or he would be enjoying a beer in Hama Valon, not hiding from Seanchan and discussing his life choices. “It never occurred to me to frame my behavior as betrayal, although I suppose it was. To me a job was a job, no matter who paid me, and the ones likely to do so were usually aware they might be outbid.”

The Tairen shifted beneath the Yellow’s gaze, acutely aware of how that might sound to his companion, and equally aware that, for some reason, that bothered him. “Since Katrie left I’ve returned to my old habits to a degree, as I mentioned. Some of my work is honorable,” he flashed a smile at Maever, “some not so much. And yet one thing remains consistent: I cannot find it in me to betray my oath to the Tower.”

He gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “I still don’t understand why those bloody words matter so much to me, but they do. I suppose I have discovered the value and restrictions of true loyalty in my old age, Maever, and that is why I stay.”

[Chris]

Dax looked to be ready to share a story, and Maever followed the cues as he was so used to doing with people he listened to. Maever sat across from him in the little hideaway of theirs, crossed his legs, and put his hands together as he gave the man his full attention. It didn't seem to Maever as if Dax had ever been asked to really go into detail about the questions Maever asked. Or if he had been asked to respond to such queries, they were responded to with something more gruff or, perhaps, rude.

But there was something to be said for the wisdom that time could provide, and it sounded to Maever as if Dax had been surprisingly introspective about his situation. It was easy for Maever to assume the Blademaster did everything he did because there was a grand scheme behind it all, a greater plan that he would never be fully aware of in his mediocre glory, but there was something ever so human about doing one thing, having a change of heart over time, and seeing things differently looking back. It wasn't regret Maever heard, and that was certainly a good thing. More of an acceptance of what was, and what used to be. He was quite self aware and that was more admirable than any amount of fist fighting or sword lessons.

"I do be finding that those who do be needing to create their own moral compass, do so after a long time," he offered softly. "They do no always be having the people to tell them how to behave and why. They will make choices they do no always be proud of. But eventually, they do find their way home, and those morals they do be finding, they do be stronger than those who do be told what to believe. It does make me very happy to be hearing you did find your way home." He didn't mean in a literal way either. Yes, Maever was someone intensely loyal to the Grey Tower and what it believed in, but that wasn't for everyone. That Dax had chosen to remain, pleased Maever greatly. It sounded like he had managed to find himself on the other side of everything that he endured over the years.

"When I did come to the Grey Tower, I did learn how to use the Power to do all sorts of things. I was no very good with Wards, and I could no bring myself to hurt people if I did no have to. I could no do very much with Earth, and it did all seem very... violent. I did feel as if I was no in the right place, like I would never find my home.

"But then I did find the Infirmary, and... I do be able to help people. I do be a very good Healer, Dax. Even if I could no channel, it do be in my blood, and it do be what does get me out of bed of a morning. The Arches, the Stairs, those did no become easy at all, but knowing what I do be here for, that did steel my resolve. You do be the best there is at being you, Dax, and I do be the best at being Maever. Nobody can take that away from us."

In the quiet of their hiding place Maever felt a heaviness be lifted from them. Did Dax feel it? Perhaps not. But being able to sit and talk with the Blademaster on more than a superficial level was incredibly freeing for the Illianer, and he was ever so grateful for it. The man was handsome and talented and overall rather special, but it was listening to his heart that Maever enjoyed the most.

A twig snapped outside and Maever's blue eyes widened as they made contact with Dax's. They couldn't have missed anyone approaching, could they? They spoke softly, and they were well hidden. Perhaps it was just the wind. Or maybe it was something else entirely. The Illianer took a slow breath, and seized Saidin, letting the power fill him as he prepared for a confrontation. The Illianer might be a healer at heart, but he was also an Asha'man, and if he had to choose between the work he and Dax were doing for the Yellow Ajah and the Seanchan... well. There was only one choice to be made there and it would not be a difficult one.

[Sunny]

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

A part of Dax wanted to shove everything the Illianer said into a box; it practically screamed that it was all a ploy. To what end, though? What could Maever possibly hope to accomplish by speaking so easily about such things while on the edge of potential annihilation? Back at the Tower it might have been more difficult to take him seriously, but out here...there was nothing to gain.

“You do be the best there is at being you, Dax, and I do be the best at being Maever. Nobody can take that away from us." The Asha’man’s sincere empathy settled about the Tairen like a cloak with those words and the Gaidin allowed himself to relax, blue eyes studying his companion’s face with new interest. He is good at Healing. I am good at killing. We make an odd pair, he thought to himself with no small amount of amused irony.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice pitched lower than usual, but resonate with sincerity. “Truly. I-” he cut off, his head snapping to the side at the sound of movement. The brawny man put a finger to his lips and pulled his cloak around him, sidling around the tree to face the sound. The fancloth shifted and trembled with the movement, effectively shielding him from view from any who did not know what to look for.

Down the hill he saw movement and the gleam of light on something shiny. Over the rustle of leaves he could hear the distinct sound of metal against metal, and the footsteps of people attempting to be quiet while carrying too much weight. A moment later a handful of soldiers in the distinctive Seanchan armor passed between two trees some distance away, then vanished behind a wall of bracken. They were too close to avoid. How did they find us?

Cursing softly, the Tairen circle the tree once more. “Seanchan,” he whispered. After a moment of hesitation he reached out to grasp the taller man’s shoulder. “For the love of the Light, don’t tell them you can channel unless you’re sure you can get us out of here. I don’t want to lose a new friend so soon.”

The older Asha’man had no chance to respond to the Tairen’s beseeching words. As the Seanchan pushed their way through the shielding branches of green, Dax turned, pushing his companion behind him protectively with his left hand while his right rested on his sword hilt. The two groups stared at each other in surprise until Gummy broke the silence with an irritated snort.

“Have you sworn the oaths?” the leader asked without preamble. Light, their drawl made his head hurt.

“Oaths?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“Have you sworn to obey, await, and serve the empress, may she live forever?” The drawl was even worse when imbued with overwhelming patience.

“We are not Seanchan civilians,” Dax said, still surprised. “We came here from the east and intend no harm to you or the Empire,” he said. In terms of that one trip, he spoke truthfully. “My friend is looking for certain herbs for a poultice. I came to protect him from wild animals. Had I known there were armed forces up here I would certainly have discouraged him.” Again, true. Barely.

“A likely story,” the Seanchan man said with apparent sincerity. “Likely, anyway, if our scouts hadn’t gone missing.”

“My lord, we haven’t left this glade in hours. We got distracted by food and conversation and well...time passes quickly when a man is with enjoyable company.” He glanced back at Maever with a smile. “We’ll just be on our way to find our flowers and leave you to your business now.” He made as if to move, but the men -there were five- shifted to form a line in front of him.

“I am not interested in your lies,” the Seanchan leader said coldly. Dax twisted to look at Maever once more, searching for any sign of how he wanted to proceed. A moment later the soldier continued coldly, “their throats were slit and now I find you here hiding like criminals.” Well. There goes any hope of keeping that detail a secret.

Dax turned back slowly, making a great show of dragging his eyes from the Asha’man’s, shoulders slumping as if in defeat. “We know nothing of any scouts, my lord. We simply wanted a bit of time alone from prying eyes, you understand? The search for herbs gave us a good excuse to slip away on our own.” A tone of pleading entered his voice. “I’ll swear any oath you like- we mean you no harm.”

Self-preservation took many guises and lying his ass off happened to be one Dax excelled at.

[Chris]

Maever wasn't nervous as he waited for Dax to return, but that was only because he had Saidin to hand and any worries he had flopped against the void and slipped away. The Illianer was an Asha'man and he would do whatever he had to, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy it regardless of who his enemy was. After all there was also a reason he came a Yellow, and it certainly wasn't due to a love for violence.

The blademaster returned shortly after leaving to confirm the inevitable - Seanchan. Maever wouldn't tell them he could channel unless they asked him outright, at which point the Oaths would do the work for him. Twisting his words and lying via the truth was not something the Illianer was much good at, and he wasn't about to practice on people who had collared women who could channel. Still, there was no time to negotiate or discuss their battle strategy as the Seanchan were upon them, and that was that.

Their armour was so odd to Maever, it was almost like standing in front of large insects who could crush his head between their teeth or something. It was a little unnerving. But with Saidin to hand and a determination to get these flowers no matter what, there was no time to be afraid. All they could do was react. The Seanchan were keen on these oaths being sworn, which was all well and good but unlike Dax, the Illianer could not and would not swear to oaths for some Empress. Why, he wasn't even sure his body would let him say them, which would be a very uncomfortable position to be in. But Maever couldn't alert Dax to this, and it was a shame because he was doing ever such a good job of making them sound like two, ummm, very good friends out picking flowers instead of-

Instead of killing the scouts?

We did leave them asleep. This was the truth, but Maever was not completely stupid, and when he thought back to Dax going off ahead to scout... he was being a Warder. And he must have gone back to kill them. Unless the Seanchan were lying, but why would they do that? Maever's lips thinned and he tried to keep his dismay (and no small amount of irritation) from his expression, which was not too difficult with Saidin but he was not exactly practiced in the art of apathy. It was a shame, because Dax was doing ever such a good job of playing the part of the innocent man in the wrong place at the wrong time, whereas Maever could never be anything other than himself. He had to try though, lest this turn to violence.

But what to say? 'My friend is telling the truth' did not cut it. 'We have no seen anyone' and 'we did no hurt anyone' were also both untrue. Light, what was a man to do? Maever went with the first thing that came to mind, releasing his grip on Saidin momentarily to add that humanity back to his tone.

"We do be having sword lessons," he said. "My friend do be showing me how to use my sword."

There was a silence over the group as the Seanchan processed what Maever just said. His cheeks went a little pink, but he stood firm. The leader repeated slowly in his drawl, "sword lessons?"

"Why yes," Maever said, "he do be well known for his skills with his sword, and we did want some privacy so he could, ummm, teach me."

Another awkward silence, during which Maever wondered if his face was going to burn right off there and then. The Seanchan didn't seem to know what to say to that either - and although Maever couldn't get too specific without ruining his words, he did sidle forwards and put his arm around the Warder's waist. Ohh, he was warm and firm! The Illianer tried to not look too delighted but, well, Dax was a handsome man to be so near, leave him alone.

Some looking between themselves later and the leader of the Seanchan made a gesture to his men. "Swear the oath," he drawled, "and leave this place. Someone murdered our scouts and we will find them. You would do well to not be seen by anyone else, lest suspicion be cast your way once more." The man was not entirely convinced, Maever knew this. He also knew that there would be more Seanchan shortly, and that they ought to get out of there while they had this small window. The Illianer nodded furtively. He could swear an Oath if he had to... at least, he would do his best. There really wasn't anything else to it, he was going to have to try.

"I do be swearing to, ummm, obey, serve, and await... ummm..." the man gave the Seanchan a worried look and he didn't have to pretend either, "what do the rest be?"

"Obey, await, and serve the Empress, may she live forever," one of the other men spoke up, pride in his voice.

"Thank you. Ummm, serve the Empress, may she live forever," Maever finished. The break between parts of the oath were enough for Maever to be able to say them - the second part was to him, an instruction to the Seanchan rather than something he was going to do, and he never did say at the start who he was swearing to. Unless they asked for the whole thing in one unbroken go, the Illianer was convinced he should be fine. Dax wouldn't have the same problem and for that Maever was thankful.

[Sunny]

Of the many things Dax had ever thought to use the ko’di for, avoiding laughter in the face of peril had never ranked high on the list. As Maever spoke up, however, that was exactly what the Tairen did. Oh, what Mando would say… The thought was fleeting, easily pushed away. His mercenary friends and their opinions were a thing of the past; the Seanchan were quite real.

He slung his arm around Maever’s shoulders without a moment of hesitation, giving him a squeeze that might have been as much for the Asha’man’s comfort as it was for show. The moment passed quickly; the Seanchan wanted them to swear an oath, and it occurred to the Gaidin a moment too late that Maever couldn’t swear it. If he did… Dax tensed, preparing for a fight...and then the Illianer tripped beautifully through a dance of untruths and artful pauses, while maintaining an illusion of perfect compliance. For once the man’s nerves did him a solid favor, it seemed.

Well done. Dax tilted his chin up a bit to smile at the Yellow. The Seanchan leader quirked an eyebrow up, but didn’t seem to have any objections to what Maever had said, so the Tairen put his free hand on his sword hilt. “I swear to obey, await, and serve the Empress, may she live forever,” he said. “So long as we can continue our lessons in peace,” he added with a touch of wry humor.

The Seanchan soldier stepped forward, his arm rising as if to backhand Dax. The Gaidin’s own hand lashed out without thought, thick fingers wrapping around the man’s armored forearm and holding it in place with no apparent effort. Dax realized a moment too late that not only should he have simply accepted the punishment, but his bracer had shifted to reveal a narrow strip of black ink that could not be mistaken for anything other than a heron. Mother’s milk in a cup!

He immediately released the soldier and bowed his head, silently praying that the Seanchan man had not seen that damning mark. “I apologize, I am still learning our new ways,” he muttered.

The man’s hand cracked across his face once, then twice. The salty taste of iron burst in his mouth as his teeth cut into his cheek, but Dax remained still with eyes downcast. The unnamed man proceeded to give them both a lecture about obedience and what he perceived as necessary social order. At the end the Tairen simply bowed acknowledgment, holding his silence and praying Maever would do the same.

Thankfully the soldier wasted no time turning to bark orders at his men and depart. Dax paid them no mind. Instead he focused his attention on his companion, searching for signs of distress. He seemed well enough on the outside at least. It’s not my job to take care of whatever is happening inside, Dax reminded himself. At the beginning of their journey the Tairen would have been surprised he cared; now he simply gave the thought a curious glance and moved on.

“I’ve been in some tight situations in my time,” the Gaidin commented once the Seanchan were out of earshot, “but that one takes the cake.” He stepped away from Maever then, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “The Tower will want to know the Seanchan are up here,” he added in a musing tone. “It can’t bode well that they are expanding their patrols.”

Dax shook his head, directing his thoughts elsewhere. “I think we should find those flowers now,” he continued. “I don’t know how long it will take them to figure out there’s no one else here.” His smile lit up his face, though it caused the cut in his cheek to twinge unpleasantly. “It seems a pity to go through all this trouble and come back empty handed, don’t you think?”

[Chris]

It was very difficult for Maever to stand there and watch as Dax was hit - twice! - by the Seanchan. The man's loose tongue had brought it upon himself and almost ruined their cover they had so carefully put together, but it made it no easier to see him getting smacked about the face. His sadness must have been evident on his face as the Seanchan guard gave him a stern look. Fortunately, his look must have been interpreted as some sort of reverence, or fear for the Empress, as he gave just a single nod at the Yellow.

Maever was quite good at being lectured at, his passive nature making it easy for words to wash over him. Oh, he listened, but they were Seanchan and everything they said was so incorrect that he listened but definitely didn't hear. He just kept his eyes downcast, nodded his head in the right places, and pretended he was a Soldier all over again. It was the right thing to do... and the least likely to get them killed.

He looked on as the Seanchan left, that deferential expression gradually shifting to a quiet, iron stubborness the greater the distance between them grew. One huff, a brief exhalation, and he gave Dax the briefest of looks before turning to go and check on Gummy. "The Seanchan do be secondary to the flower," he said, "and I do no be having any intentions of leaving without it." He had wanted to inspect the man's face, knowing from the force of those blows that he might be in need of some Healing, but it warred with his dismay at the dead Seanchan, and he didn't know what to do with it. And so, he checked on dear Gummy, who hadn't killed anyone without telling him about it first.

Perhaps sensing Maever's withdrawal, Dax followed him back into their private nook, an inquisitive look on his face. If there was a question about to be formed, it faltered as the Illianer looked up from Gummy's supplies and gave a genuine, full-force frown of disappointment. He didn't need to say anything, and what was the point? The Seanchan were dead, and Maever's sentiments would not bring back the dead. It ached in his chest a little, but it was the perceived deception as much as the act of killing itself that didn't sit well with him. "Gummy do be ready to go," he said when their pack mule was all set. He took the reigns, gently ushered the animal to his feet, and was all set to walk right past Dax back into the wilderness to find their flowers.

But he couldn't. The Yellow was a Healer and there was absolutely no way he could leave Dax injured. So he paused and gave the broad man a concerned look. "Do I be having permission to Heal your face?" he asked, and at the confirmation he reached up gently with his free hand and seized Saidin. All five elements were used to fix the man's face, which took barely any time at all and as soon as the deed was done, Maever took his hand away and moved on with the task at hand. He wasn't angry, he was disappointed, and it would take some time for him to settle again. In the meantime he would look for flowers, and Dax could follow, unless he decided to scout ahead and kill those Seanchan guards as well?

[Sunny]

Dax watched his companion walk away, chewing on his lower lip as he explored an unpleasant sensation that had blossomed in the pit of his stomach. It clenched there, twisting and tugging at him until finally the Gaidin lifted his feet and followed the Yellow to the mule. I did what I had to. Even in his mind the words sounded defensive and weak.

Like you, brother, Jem laughed softly. You’re getting soft.

“Shut up,” Dax muttered. “Just shut up.”

Anything else he had intended to say to his brother died on his lips when Maever looked up. Dax had not enjoyed the thought of the man’s reaction even before their unexpected conversation; now his obvious disappointment cut through every explanation the Tairen could come up with for his actions...except one. If I hadn’t killed them, that patrol would have killed us. That fact alone seemed like enough, so Dax set himself to the daunting task of silencing the guilty rebellion in his stomach.

He likely would have succeeded if Maever hadn’t interrupted in the most Yellow of ways. “Do I be having permission to Heal your face?” He asked, and Dax’s eyes widened in surprise. In the two breath pause between question and answer, the Tairen waged a personal Tarmon Gai’don across every plain of his existence. The cuts in his mouth warred with his distrust of Healing, competed for attention with his confusion, shame, and judgment. He’s angry at me, why does he want to Heal me? Tumbled through his mind just ahead of no one has ever asked before. Does he mean it?

In the end it wasn’t guilt, or nerves, or even the pain of his cuts that caused Dax to nod agreement. It was something else: absolute certainty that the Yellow simply wished to help, no matter the circumstances. The word you’re looking for is trust, Jem told him once the Healing was over. You trust him. Why?

Dax didn’t have an answer for that question. In fact, contemplating it brought back his queasy certainty that he had done something wrong, no matter the reason. Therefore, he addressed the problem the same way he always did: he avoided it. He gave the Yellow a curt bow and hurried ahead, scanning for flowers, Seanchan, and anything else of interest as he went.

A flash of yellow against a backdrop of green and brown caught the Gaidin’s attention as he rounded a large formation of rocks some time later. Off the side of the path a little ahead, a plant grew near the roots of a large tree. Its buttery blossoms pulling the stem downward in a graceful arch, each flower resembling nothing so much as fingers laced together in supplication. Just beyond the tree Dax could see flower after flower poking out of the brown earth.

The Tairen pulled his dagger and hurried forward. Once he had collected the flower he returned to the Yellow, his prize hidden behind his back. Maever was a little further down the path, but plodding along steadily. He didn’t look quite as happy go lucky as he usually did, but at least he was smiling...until he saw Dax, anyway. Then he donned that same mask of unhappy disappointment.

A wave of guilt crashed back through the Gaidin, but he forced himself onward. As he approached, he held the flower out, but his words had nothing to do with his offering. “I don’t regret killing them, but I should have told you what I was doing.” He paused, sucking on his lip. “I’m sorry.”