The Grey Tower

Head resting on the window sill, Rav slumped in a low-backed chair, feet propped up on his bed. He breathed slowly, half-dozing in the mid-afternoon. His left hand rested on the crib beside him, slowly rocking it back and forth without much conscious thought. Inside the beautiful golden wood frame of the crib was a tiny form, who for this blessed moment was sleeping. Rav listened to the odd sounds she made: deep and quick, then slow and shallow. Each time she paused for a few seconds he peered down, concern creasing the corners of his eyes, and then she'd start up again. The poor thing seemed misshapen, or at least her head was. Perfectly natural, according to the Yellows. It didn't seem natural. She had only seen two beautiful sunrises and one picturesque sunset, and he feared that she would not see another for whatever reason. She was so ignorant of all of the chaos and death that had heralded her birth. Not thinking about the last few days was a challenge to say the least. Rav cautiously removed his hand, waited for the cries that never came, and even more warily extracted himself from the chair.

Ravak's living room had been transformed even more dramatically than the bedroom, but he ignored all that and looked for something to read. His shelves were packed with works on every subject under the sun, or so it had seemed. Parenting was not something he had any books on - She had been very clear about that. She. He despised her. Why had he even listened to her? Now everything that was left of her lay in a crib in his bedroom, intentionally secluded away from the Infirmary and the Mar a'Mael. There was a lot of hate for the woman who had killed everything She was meant to stand for, and that hatred seemed to pass along to the small innocent babe under his care. His small innocent child.

The knock at the door was firm and unfamiliar. Whether parental protectiveness, Gaidin training, or a paranoia that seemed only understandable in these times, Rav took up his sword-breaker before approaching the door. There had been too much blood shed already, but he would die defending his child, more readily and easily than he would sacrifice himself for an Aes Sedai. Everything good that still mattered seemed to rest in that crib.

He held the sword-breaker out of view as he opened the door slowly. Rav didn't recognise the Accepted standing in the corridor, but he certainly took note. She cut quite a fine figure and- Light man, get a bloody grip! He loosened his hold on the sword and slumped against the doorframe. I need more sleep. Fantasising about Accepted... He looked down into bright blue eyes. "Yes? What can I help you with, Accepted?"

Leanora’s perspective on life had changed considerably since she passed through the strange arches deep beneath the White Tower. They had laid her possible futures out for her like so many paths on a game of Snakes and Foxes and it had not taken much thought to decide which she preferred. She found herself at the Grey Tower soon after, sporting eight bands rather than seven at the bottom of her pristine skirt. She spent her first two days in her room on the outer edge of the Indigo Ajah’s quarters and thought that perhaps, finally, she had made the right choice.

On the third day, however, the ground rumbled and bucked beneath her feet as she scrubbed her teeth with salt and soda, and a booming, grinding sound that she had never heard before pressed against her ears and made her jaw ache. After she regained her balance the blue-eyed Accepted went to her window, watching in slack-jawed horror as dust and smoke billowed ever higher into the air, emanating from where she knew the novice (and soldier, she reminded herself) quarters to be.

Moments later the slender Accepted exited her room at a run, her skirts gathered about her knees for speed. Whatever her plans had been for the day, she already knew they were canceled. Her gut told her that whatever had happened, it had been no accident. Buildings made of marble did not just….explode…like that. Light, who would do such a thing?

---

Three days later the Taraboner girl stood outside a door in the Warder Hall, waiting for a response to her knock. The man on the other side of that door was both a stranger and not; she had no idea what to expect, and Leanora Simir did not like surprises.

She had the answer to her panic-stricken question now, although she felt no better for it. How could the Mistress of Novices do such a thing to her own charges? It was an unthinkable atrocity, the sort of thing one might read in a book, but question whether it occurred as written. Lea controlled her visceral reaction as best she could, knowing that everything she felt the other channeling initiates felt ten times more strongly. To her, Mirin Sedai had been nothing more than a name and a rank. The Aes Sedai had been the surrogate mother, caregiver, older sister, safety, authority, and confidante of the other white-clad women in the Grey Tower. How could anyone, even a Darkfriend, consider such a crime against them?

Thinking about what lay on the other side of the door, Lea supposed she knew the answer to that question. The Mistress of Novices had given birth to a girl mere hours before her trial. The child could not be held accountable for the crimes of her mother, yet the betrayal-fueled fury of the initiates could not be denied. At least their anger had a focus, however; Leanora could understand their feelings even if she found their methods of expressing them distasteful. Mirin Sedai, however...what in the Light or Shadow had grieved that woman to the point that she tried to destroy the Tower’s entire future?

One thing was certain: None of the Darkfriend’s former charges could be trusted to assist in the care of the infant she had left behind. When the Yellow sister ordered her to attend to Ravak Gaidin her surprise had not been for the order, but rather for his name. He actually exists? Her shock had faded quickly, replaced with amusement that a total stranger would be deemed worthy of taking care of such a delicate matter. The tragic logic behind the decision could not be denied, and yet...how did they know she didn’t serve the Dark One?

Her thoughts were banished by the sound of the latch rattling and light flooding on her face as the door opened. A scowling man with a shock of red hair and dark circles beneath his pale eyes stood there, broadcasting wariness from every inch of his body. She tilted her head and stared at him thoughtfully; was this Ravak? They watched each other in silence for a moment too long, and then suddenly the man slumped against the door, his arm relaxing enough to reveal the weapon he had held behind his back. Light! Did he really think-? Of course he had. Why wouldn’t he?

The Accepted did her best to hide her dismay by dipping into a graceful curtsy after he spoke. “I am Leanora,” she said, “But you can call me Lea if you prefer. Bidaene Sedai sent me to help care for the bairn- I assume you are Ravak Gaidin?” Her stomach flipped as he nodded acknowledgement. Real, then. That raised more questions than it answered. She took the gesture as an invitation to enter the room; she couldn’t very well do him any good standing in the hall, after all.

Blue eyes glanced about briefly, taking in a chaos of baby care supplies, books, weapons, and furniture, but then turned back to the man whose life she had just interrupted, examining him with poorly-veiled curiosity. To her surprise she liked what she saw now that the heavy glare had faded. His weary face was both much younger and far more attractive than she had first thought, and his body- well, he was one of the Gaidin. If she had to play caregiver at least she had something -or rather someone- good to look at while she did it. Light, woman, get a hold of yourself! Just because his name was mentioned in your test doesn’t mean you should forget propriety.

It occurred to her that the Gaidin looked simultaneously prepared for war and scared out of his breeches, and abruptly the last of Lea’s wariness siphoned away. “If the baby is sleeping, perhaps we could stop staring at each other like alpha pups in a fighting ring and make some tea?” She asked, her mouth curving up ever so slightly. “Then we can talk about what you have done and what needs to be attended to next.”

She paused, looking up at him intently through her eyelashes. Her gaze covered all of him, but lingered on the shadows beneath his eyes and the gaunt tension in his jaw. “How long has it been since you ate or slept?”

He was to be mothered, was he? Ravak left the sword-breaker beside the door, ready for the next person to come along, and turned back towards this Accepted he'd been... whatevered. The haze of fatigue kept him from recalling this Bidaene Sedai, assuming she was one of the Yellows that had been there for the birth. He'd had other things on his mind than catching names. Stupid dreams that seem bloody hilarious now.

"Mm?" Rav muttered sourly. He waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, I don't know. What time is it?" He cast a withering glance out of the window. "I think I sent the last servant away. I didn't like the smell of it." He padded back towards his bedroom door. His daughter - his daughter - was still sleeping in that fitful manner that made his heart jump. The lines on his face smoothed simply watching her from the doorway. Alpha pups. Yes, he understood that now. Every little factoid or tidbit of advice about being a father or a parent seemed to be striking home with profound clarity now. He'd do anything to protect her from harm. Absolutely anything.

Pulling the door to, Rav looked back into his living room. The Accepted was already making a pot of tea - where had she found the teapot? Or the cups? - and seemed to be making some space on one of the sofas to sit down on. He made his way towards a chair, and lifted a pile of books off it so he could sit. "So, are you here for the child, or for me as well?" She glanced back with a look that answered everything. He snorted. "Well, I probably owe some thanks to Bidaene. Sorry about the mess. It's been... trying, what with everything." His easy grin dropped. "Sorry, I... You've had a worse time of it, I can only assume. I know the Hall has cleared me of any wrongdoing, but you have my utmost sympathies. If I had known..." The Gaidin's face hardened to granite, his voice darkened to grim determination. "Well, neither of us would be in this state. I would have seen to that."

The few scattered dreams he'd had all consisted of Her. Sometimes she was strangling the life out of him, but most of them he was the aggressor. If he'd known three days ago what he knew now, well, he wouldn't be a father, but he would have seen justice done by his own hands.

As the red-haired man went to check on his child, Leanora looked around his outer study with pointed interest. Chaos ruled on every surface, and yet surely beneath it all some sort of order remained. She picked her way through the mess until she reached a small table covered by a mess of small blankets. When she shifted the soft fabric to the side, she found a silver tea service.

Shaking her head she lifted the tray and walked back to the sofa, Air flicking over the low table in front of it to clear it of piled diapers and toys. By the time the Gaidin returned she had heated the water and a small packet of tea she had brought with her was steeping, filling the room with the delicate scent of mint. Her companion made brief small talk, and her eyebrows went up at the harsh tone in his voice. What would he have done, exactly? She shivered, rubbing her hands up and down her arms briskly to warm herself.

“I am actually quite new to the Tower,” she told him lightly as she poured a cup of pale liquid and passed it to him. “While I admit that finding out what MIrin Sedai did came as more than a little shock, I had no personal attachment to her, and thus I am more concerned by the impact this tragedy will have on the families of those killed and the Tower as a whole than I am by my own emotional stability.” She poured herself a cup of tea and sipped it carefully, nodding satisfaction. It was a subtle blend of chamomile and vervain, with a touch of peppermint, each herb chosen with care to help calm a new father’s nerves.

“As for you,” she continued,“I know you by name only, but you seem to be well-respected in this place, and we are all only human.” She put her hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly. “All will be well if it pleases the Light, Ravak Gaidin.” Silence fell for a moment, then she squeezed again. “Drink.”

As he sipped at his tea she set her own cup aside and began to fold the laundry piled about her. She could not claim any kind of overwhelming maternal instinct, but as a trainee of the Tower she did what she was told. The Shienaran -Light, how did a Shienaran get red hair?!- clearly needed the helps he had been tasked with providing. A few moments later Ravak stifled a yawn with his forearm, and Lea’s lips curled up in a pleased smirk.

“I would like to see the baby,” she commented. “I’m certain she is adorable.” The gaidin nodded and stood, swaying a little. She hastened to his side, holding one brawny arm in both of hers to provide greater balance as they moved to the door. The Accepted kept her eyes to herself once they were through -a person’s personal quarters were their own- save for the infant that slept in a crib against the wall. “She’s beautiful,” she said quietly, and she didn’t have to fake the warmth in her tone.

Ravak stumbled as he turned, and the Taraboner woman’s eyebrows went up. “Lie down, Gaidin,” she said firmly, turning him with capable hands to face the bed on the opposite side of the room. “You are no good to your daughter if you cannot see straight.” After a moment of weak resistance, the bigger man stumbled forward and fell face-first on the mattress.

Shaking her head, Lea pulled the quilt over him -if he wanted to remove his boots, he could bloody well do that himself- and crept from the room, her mind already cataloging all that needed to be done. One corner of her thoughts continued to whirl, however, trying to make sense of this strange man’s existence. It wasn’t real, right? It couldn't be. And yet...

With an irritated huff, the Accepted went back to folding baby clothes.

The Shienaran muttered his thanks at the tea, and pointlessly sniffed at it. It was just a habit, like it was to scowl at anyone without a ring, cloak or cord. The hot liquid touched his lips, then vanished swiftly down his throat. The heat burned within him in a pleasing way - he couldn't recall the last time he'd had tea, or even anything warm to drink. It was a little dash of the normal in the midst of all this change. He settled back into the chair, eyes drifting shut. He yawned into the back of his wrist.

Lea's voice appeared from the silence a moment later. "I would like to see the baby. I'm certain she is adorable." His vision swam a little as he opened his eyes up, looking at the Accepted. Of course, he thought, she's just through here. He made to move, but his legs failed to cooperate. He placed a hand on each arm of the chair, heaving himself to his feet. He staggered a little as he manoeuvred round the tall back, using both Lea and his own senses for balance.

Rav intended to lean against the doorway again, but that would have blocked the view off for others. He stumbled in an attempt to position himself between the door frame and the bed. Light, what I would do for some of that bond-forged stamina. How did regular fathers survive the birth of their children? They probably had spouses who didn't end up being servants of the Dark One. He frowned at the thought as someone or something spun him around. The room lurched in a manner that was all too familiar. I've been drinking? The bed cried out with its siren call, and Rav adopted a Form of his own devising: The Felled Tree. Straight legged and straight backed, he collapsed facedown onto the bed.
---- Rav pulled the blankets of his bed off from atop him and staggered to his feet. Toes curled over the top of a soft woollen rug, and he glanced at his reflection in a small oval mirror that sat on a dressing table. A unruffled jacket of blue wool covered his torso, golden embroidery depicting a rising sun on one breast. Uncalloused fingers touched the sun, and half-remembered thoughts returned to him. Cairhein. Of course, he was a noble now. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, then moved out from his bedchambers. His hands found purchase on the hilts of his swords, the pommels golden sunbursts just like the one on his jacket.

He moved through the manor house to the morning room, blinking away the bright light that shone through ceiling-high windows. A couple of servants in black garb moved about the room, but Ravak's eyes passed over them. Lady Osiellin sat by one of the larger tables in the room, silver fork in hand. Her grey eyes were intent on the letter in her hand, whilst she plucked fruit for a small bowl in front of her. Rav smiled as he approached.

"How goes the day greet you, milady?" He gave a mocking bow, before securing the seat opposite the Lady Osiellin for himself. There was a spoon in his hand, whilst a bowl of oatmeal appeared on the table.

Lady Osiellin stared back, pale eyes savagely intent. Rav paused, frowning. The fork in her hand was gone, replaced by a long, curved dagger. Rav moved on instinct, drawing his sword-breaker in a parrying move as he twisted out of the chair. Serrated blade met Shienaran steel. Someone grabbed his other hand, and yanked him away from danger. He glanced back only enough to ascertain that this wasn't another threat, but the long sleeve of red silk soothed his concern.

Still holding onto whomever it was behind him, Ravak moved further away from his would-be murderer. Lady Osiellin prowled towards him, blade in hand, a retinue of black-robed figures snaking behind her. Behind those sinuous forms were bestial shapes, half-human faces marred by a ram's horns or a raven's beak. His skin prickled in fear as the forces of the Dark One descended upon him.

"There's no escape," Lady Mirin Osiellin whispered. "Time to die."
---- He thrashed at Mirin, arms flailing at he spun to the side. There was the unnerving sensation of nothing - not like the crisp focus of the ko'di, nor the repose of genuinely restful sleep, but something else. That sensation lasted all of half a second before Rav crashed onto the hard wood of his bedroom floor. Groaning and suddenly very much awake, Ravak picked himself up. Rolling out of bed like a bloody idiot. His head hurt, and whatever dream or nightmare had provoked him had already faded to nothingness. The only notion of what had stirred him was something about the Shadow. He grimaced at his own foolishness.

If pain hadn't done enough to force him awake, his eyes landing on an empty crib did. A spike of genuine terror pierced through his heart. The next second he was across the room and pulling open his bedroom door. Had he the strength of an Ogier, the door would have been ripped from its hinges. Instead it rebounded against the wall in a loud crash. A graceful figure in banded whites jumped from the sudden noise. The small form in her arms began to emit a wailing cry.

His outrage at finding his daughter missing, and at being left to sleep was met by a genuine shock that he could think so little of her, and that so little could be thought of her. She had nothing to do with the thoughts or feelings of the other Accepted, and he knew that. She knew that he knew that. He knew she knew that he knew that, and embarrassment scarleted his already ruddy cheeks. It was then the baby's turn to become the centre of attention. She may well have taken the little one out from the crib, but that was because Lea was not going to leave the baby unattended. That and he needed the sleep that had come so easily. Ravak acknowledged that, regretful that he hadn't even paused to consider that possibility. But a father's instincts were, well, instinctive. He was sorry for the shock, but not sorry for his reaction. Alpha pups, he reminded her. Well, alpha pup or not, the crying baby was not what she was here for, and he had caused it. Your daughter, your problem was the strident reply.

The conversation passed between them in the blink of an eye. Rav crossed the room towards Leanora as she carefully rose, transferring Baby Darrow between them. "My apologies," he said over the sounds of his crying daughter, the first words spoken since he awoke. He thought of additional words to put to his excuses, but everything had already been said. He held onto the baby protectively - not from Lea, just in general, of course - as he resumed his seat on a chair. Already the shock was fading from the baby's system, as she settled into making a gargling murmur.

Housework was housework, from Tanchico to Tar Valon to the glass pinnacle of the Grey Tower. In the long silence after the new father fell asleep, Leanora busied herself with cleaning his outer chamber. The chaos was to be expected under the circumstances and yet she knew both he and the baby would appreciate order.

A word with a servant outside resulted in a long, waist-height bureau with a rail along the front being placed below the window. Into that she folded diapers, soft blankets, tiny dresses, hats and booties. In one small drawer she put creams and powders and pastes for the various skin afflictions an infant might encounter, as well as the pins used to hold under clothes onto a small, wiggly body.

Atop the chest of drawers she placed a pad made of many layers of thick toweling, a stack of wiping clothes, and another stack of diapers. After a moment of thought she channeled, saidar flowing through her as gentle as a summer wind. Air wove around the surface of the chest, forming an indelible barrier to protect the redwood from damage. She tied it off thoughtfully. The flows would not last forever, of course, but for now...it would make Ravak’s life just a touch easier.

The Taraboner woman was just organizing books on a shelf when she heard a faint squeak from Ravak’s bedroom. She glanced around uncertainly, then tiptoed to the door and peered in. The Master of Training still lay as she had left him, but in the faint light the young woman could see a tiny fist waving in outrage through the bars of the crib. With another uncertain look at the Gaidin -if he woke, would he hesitate a moment before perforating her like a training dummy?- she crept to the crib and carefully extracted the squalling infant.

A cloth soaked in warm goat’s milk soon quieted the child’s cries. Lea settled into the couch and let her mind drift- but it didn’t get far before a thunderous crash interrupted the peaceful silence. She clutched the baby to her chest, seeing the open bedroom door and the man who filled it only after she had lept to her feet. Light! She met his gaze, acutely aware of her hammering heart and his daughter’s loud wails. To her surprise she found chagrined acknowledgment that he had behaved poorly in those gray depths….an apology for grouping her with those who might do the child harm.

Lea offered a shaky smile in response to his apology. “No offense taken, Ravak Gaidin,” she said, “although I am just as glad your weapon of choice was a door, not a sword.” Her gaze shifted to the blades still propped against the wall by his entryway. She shook her head. “To say the last few days have been tense is like saying the Aryth Ocean is a puddle, I can hardly fault you for acting accordingly.”

She hesitated, torn between curiosity and manners. How would her mother have phrased the question she wanted to ask? Poorly, she thought, her lips twitching upward. At least she had spent enough time with Avarie Simir to know better than to automatically equate sex with love, and the Gaidin’s comment about Mirin had seemed to indicate a less than loving relationship. “I sense there was no love lost between yourself and Mirin Sedai,” she said finally. “How did….” she looked at the baby, who was staring up at the ceiling. “Pardon my rudeness, but how in the Light did you end up having a child with her?”

Ravak snorted derisively. Oh how many times had he asked himself that very question, even before the truth of Her allegiance was lain bare before the whole Tower. How had he found himself slipping in between the sheets with such an impossible woman? He wasn't his sister, letting vanity get in the way of sound reasoning, but Mir-- She had been beautiful, in her own way. He muttered aloud the disquiet in his head. She didn't deserve a name any more. If he cared enough to put thoughts into action, Rav would have checked if Her name had been struck from the list of sisters that the Grey Tower kept.

Shaking his head, he looked down at his daughter. Dark thoughts began to unravel almost immediately. There was no time to dwell in the past with the future so full of... Light, who knew what? He had to be here for her, that was for certain. He didn't need to think about feathers and mountains to know it was his duty, and not just because he was born a northerner.

He parted his lips as if to speak, then stopped. There was an acknowledged impertinence about the question, but it wasn't that which gave him pause. Nor was it that the affairs of Aes Sedai and Gaidin were beyond the concern of mere Accepted; he heard Elia's voice in that thought. The child in his arms gargled, clearing thought and bringing a smile to the hard features of his face.

"It was never the intention," Rav said in a calming voice. He spoke to Leanora, but his attention was all on his daughter. "Odd things happen between people in odd times. It was just after the Second Seanchan Siege, and..." He shook his head, continuing with a stronger voice. "It was a mistake, on many accounts." Although he couldn't say it was a mistake he wouldn't make again, with the full knowledge of the facts. In his heart he hated, despised Mirin. But the affection he felt for his daughter seemed to push all that loathing out, like the ko'di banishing erroneous thoughts. "If you want my advice, keep away from men. Bond one as a Warder, certainly, but don't let a relationship get in the way of acting as an Aes Sedai. It's a bloody muddle when it doesn't work out. A bloody muddle even if it does."

A rueful expression came over the Shienaran. He was reverting back to the unready Drin'far'ji he'd once been, or even the Ji'alantin who had wavered in his faith at the Citadel. He'd come out of those two trials stronger. If this was another trial, he'd find his way through again. And not just for myself. He couldn't sit around all day reminiscing about the past when there had to be work to be done.

Taking a proper look at the room finally, it did seem like everything had been done, far better than if he'd tried. And he had tried, which was the worrying thing. How in the Light am I going to manage this? He needed to organise something formal with a nurse to look after... I'm going to need to give you a name. Peace... So a nurse; a name; he probably needed to find a personal servant to help with other affairs. And I'm still the Master of Training too? He hadn't felt a panic like this since going toe-to-toe with a Fade, and even then he had someone to watch his back and bind his wounds.

"Do you have a name? I mean, your mother, what's her name?" The words came out in rush, one atop the other. "I was going to name her after my mother, but I don't know if Mitsuko fits. Not sure my mother would approve. Maybe Elia? No, that'd be as bad. Something aspirational? Kaia?" His voice caught. "Or... maybe... Light, I don't know." If he couldn't do something as simple as name a child, how could do the rest? One hand clawed at the top button of his shirt, almost tearing the stitching away. This is what Elia must call a fear seizure. He gulped in breath as he grasped for the calming centre of the ko'di. It came, eventually, but not before his panic had set his daughter off into more crying. He felt tears on his own cheeks and the pounding in his chest. Pushing everything else aside, he focused on the child in his arms, exiling the rest of reality outside of his attention. You can do this, Ravak. The thought skittered on the edge of the bubble of calm, then vanished into the darkness beyond.