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Moiraine glides into the common room expecting the hush that follows her entrance. Still, it chills something in her that she thought she’d buried when she left the Tower. There are four Aes Sedai in the room loosely arranged around a fifth sister in the center. An innkeeper fills the sister's mug near to overflowing, visibly calculating the odds of Moiraine's unexpected entrance angering her prestigious clientele.
Siuan holds court like she was born to it, an arm draped over the back of her chair and her legs crossed at the ankle. Her dress is flowing, a vivid blue with more embroidery than she’d ever suffered when they were in the Tower. The embroidery accentuates the tattoos that peek out from her collar and wrists. Her eyes are dark and cool as she takes in Moiraine.
She’s all but ordering me to speak first, Moiraine thinks distantly. Good. I did tell her she’d be a fine Amyrlin.
“My sisters,” Moiraine says, and notes the ever-so-slight twitch in Siuan’s hand, resting on the arm of the chaise. The innkeeper all but sags with relief, jerking up her jug before Siuan's mug overflows. Moiraine waits til the room is silent and staring at her, unreadable Aes Sedai serenity from all directions. “I have arrived to inform you there is a gathering contingent of Whitecloaks a few spans from the outskirts of Andor. I felt it my duty to inform you all.”
“Moiraine Sedai," Siuan says. Her tone is excellent; the thinnest veneer of politesse overtop derision. "I confess I find myself astonished to see you. I was given to understand you attended to business too urgent to spare time to see your sisters."
"I felt it my duty to inform you all," Moiraine replies.
"Do you worry that six full Aes Sedai would quail before a group of ordinary men?” Siuan asks. “We are hardly women to fear to walk in the dark alley behind this establishment.” Then she taps her index finger, once, twice. When Moiraine jerks herself back to the conversation at hand, the other sisters are barely repressing smiles, and Siuan looks perfectly like she’s swallowed a snake.
“If we are boring you, Moiraine Sedai, by all means take your leave.”
“Siuan Sedai,” Moiraine says, angling her head just slightly.
No Aes Sedai is uncouth enough to outright gasp, but Sheriam twitches near-violently as Moiraine turns on her heel and sweeps out of the room. That suits too; Sheriam came up with Moiraine and Siuan. She can attest to how far their relationship has eroded if they are all but sniping at each other in public. For her part, Moiraine has spent the last few days ensuring she was seen in the streets of Andor while snubbing all communication with the cadre from the White Tower.
Siuan’s letter had said they would only be here for three days, but Moiraine has spent two fitful nights dreaming of soft skin and familiar laughter. More accurately, Moiraine has spent two nights in an inn, waking up in a cold sweat. The bond, or duty, wakes Lan not long after she wakes, and they watch the sky lighten into dawn together, his shifting green cloak spread over their laps. Her eyes are gritty with exhaustion and her vigorous attempts to keep her attention occupied during the day, and keep herself away from Siuan.
But Siuan had tapped twice on the chair. If Moiraine were the paranoid type, she would think it a message. And had there been emphasis in her voice when she’d mentioned the alley outside the inn?
“She didn’t look well, I take it,” Lan says.
Moiraine doesn’t let herself startle, but she and Lan have been bonded for months now and she knows to expect the light tap of an apology in the back of her head.
“She looked well,” Moiraine says. Siuan looked aloof, and uncaring. She looked like Moiraine could sink into her lap and pull her dear face tight to her and press her smile onto Moiraine's mouth. “I believe I am to meet her in the alleyway behind the inn, two hours hence.”
Lan frowns at the sky. “It will rain today. As heavily as yesterday’s downpour, I would wager.”
The bond does not confer any level of clairvoyance, but Moiraine knows that if they were to have this conversation out loud, Lan would now mention how during that downpour Moiraine, in her exhaustion, had walked into the path of a horse-and-cart and only Lan’s quick intervention had saved her from death by trampling. Moiraine would retort that Lan was here for exactly the purpose of keeping Moiraine from physical danger, and Lan would give her one of those terrible looks, the ones that worry for her safety.
“I will meet her in the alleyway behind the inn, two hours hence,” she says. Her voice is perfectly even, perhaps a touch bored. Lan follows. If he disapproves, he doesn't say so.
*
The rain evolves into a downpour by the time Moiraine and Lan return to the inn they’re staying at, a carefully-chosen dozen spans from the other Aes Sedai lodgings. Moiraine barely has time to change into dry clothes before it’s time to go out in the rain and meet Siuan.
The walk back is interminable, and she doesn’t dare weave any protection against the rain with the other Aes Sedai so close. Andorans bustle in the streets in sun and torrential downpour, jostling Moiraine hither and thither. Lan's worry hums deep in the back of her mind. She pulls the hood tighter over her head, and ducks into the alleyway.
Siuan is not there.
Siuan doesn’t arrive in the next few minutes. Moiraine gives into a yawn, and that is when Siuan ducks out into the alleyway, warding raindrops away from her and looking harried.
“I was so worried you wouldn’t understand,” Siuan murmurs, rushing over. “I couldn’t be more subtle — you’re soaked! I’d dry you but the sisters will feel any channelling — maybe I can do it softly; a little at a time.” Siuan’s mumbling to herself now, fretting at the sodden sleeves of Moiraine’s traveling dress.
A half-step more and Moiraine could melt right into her, could feel Siuan pepper her temple with quick, smiling kisses, and she almost sways forward with sheer longing. Siuan sees it, softens visibly.
“Come here,” she murmurs.
“I’ll get you all wet,” Moiraine protests.
Siuan waggles her eyebrows and Moiraine is grateful for the excuse to groan loudly and pull away. Siuan catches her by the wrists before she can get far enough away, and Moiraine swallows against a dry throat.
“Siuan.” It comes out cracked and near inaudible. Siuan’s face goes from playful to concerned.
“I know,” Siuan murmurs. Moiraine breathes slow and quiet through her mouth.
“Being the Amyrlin will help us find him,” Siuan promises. She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
And Siuan will surely become the Amyrlin. They’ve had variations on this conversation many times before. Bent over mops as Novices, idle musings in the library as Accepted, then later, huddled in bed together before Siuan shut her up with a sharp nip to her jaw and Moiraine entirely forgot her train of though. Always Siuan scowling at Moiraine for even conceiving of the idea of serving in the Hall of the Tower, much less becoming the Amyrlin. Siuan had wanted to go home.
Moiraine purses her lips against Siuan’s thumb in a gentle kiss, and draws the tip into her mouth.
When she looks up, Siuan’s eyes are plumbless dark, zeroed in on Moiraine’s mouth. “A fine distraction,” she murmurs.
Moiraine releases her thumb, and feels something thrill in her when Siuan sways forward. “You once told me that would always work.”
Siuan blinks sluggish slow, and Moiraine wants to lead her up the stairs into their own room, and have the Aes Sedai in the common room simply no longer be present. Siuan and Moiraine living their own life, with only them to think of.
“That specifically?” Siuan says. Moiraine casts her mind back to the conversation at hand.
“Not that specifically,” Moiraine allows.
Siuan’s hand is warm in her own, and smoother than she remembers. The callouses are not entirely gone, but softer, like they’ve been treated with creams and lotions and a general lack of hard labor. Siuan’s dress is finer than she normally tolerates, and her posture more adapted to the reality of wearing robes at all. She’s been in dresses more often while Moiraine was gone. Moiraine should perhaps feel dingy and underdressed beside her, but upon probing herself, finds only a mix of sadness and something she has to squint at for a long while before she recognizes it as a kind of boasting.
“I would’ve been able to figure us a room for the night,” Siuan says, “if I’d known you would arrive.”
Any of the Aes Sedai in the common room would be able to sense a woman who could channel.
“Any of the sisters who felt a woman with the ability to channel will assume it was someone from the group already here,” Siuan says, cutting through Moiraine's argument before it can leave her lips. It's so like her Moiraine softens, reaches for Siuan's hand. “It’s a risk we can reasonably take, especially if you have your brooding man to keep an eye out.”
“He does more than just brood,” Moiraine protests weakly. “Occasionally he will read poetry.”
Siuan breathes out a laugh. Her smile starts at the corner of her mouth and Moiraine watches it for as long as she can before Siuan presses it gently to Moiraine’s mouth. “Then let’s get him here. If our sisters discover our ruse, he can recite Anasai at them.”
She’s clinging to Siuan now, the longing her in belly pulling hard. “At least a night together,” Moiraine agrees, breathless.
It will likely be less than that, because the wheel isn’t kind or just, but for Siuan, Moiraine will grab at however much happiness she may be allowed.