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Novices Rhonwyn & Rhydin, MuCs: "A Wolf Among Sheep"

Novice Rhonwyn, MuC
Skipping Out On Chores
Sun Dec 21 2003 12:20:41 am

Her hair reflected the lamplight as only the golden tresses of her hair could. Gray eyes flashed as they glanced from end to end down the hallway, searching for signs of authority and thus danger. Finding none, the girl crept forward, lithe muscles tensed in preparation of fleeing at the first indication of trouble. As always, the hallways were still, but for the occasional cough or similar demonstration of human presence from beyond the myriad of doors the girl passed. These she ignored—the task at hand required only that she get safely to her destination.

The Aes Sedai were becoming lax when it came to security. Rhonwyn hadn’t laid eyes on one of those on the Mistress of Novices’s staff since she had donned the whites scarcely two months previously; though they did make their occasional rounds of the Novice Court, the women were busy enough that their work usually confined them to their offices. Perhaps that was the solution to the unusual amount of mischief Rhonwyn seemed capable of getting herself into—she, like many other novices, could wander the halls of the White Tower without fear of being caught and suitably punished. So much for the fabled strictness of Aes Sedai.

At least tonight’s errand was not malicious in nature, though it depended on one’s definition of malignant intent. Unlike the vast majority of empty-headed twits that occupied the quarters in which the novices dwelled, Rhonwyn was conducting a simple family visit. A sardonic smile, so misplaced on those angelic features, twisted her lips as she considered the thought, noting its duplicity. The fact that most novices were unbelievably vacuous was just that, a fact; that Rhonwyn was visiting family was not so widely regarded as truth. As far as the White Tower and its inhabitants were concerned, neither Rhonwyn nor her brother was in any way related, whether it was by association or blood. It was a clever deception, and though inconvenient at times, it was necessary.

Rhonwyn pursed her lips as she contemplated the ruse’s necessity. It would be easier to connect the two of them with the deed they were destined to commit if they were openly associated, but it would be just as simple once the task was completed and they fled the Tower simultaneously. Meanwhile, the two of them were forced to demean their birthright and their nobility by crawling around like moles in the dark. Her brother was much too handsome to shield his face from those who would recognize it for its worth, and quite frankly, so was Rhonwyn’s.

"It is far past your curfew, novice," an acidic voice spat from across the hall. Rhonwyn sought the source of the disturbance and was disappointed to note that it was Arwyn, renowned as the eternal Accepted. Her beady eyes narrowed imperceptibly—the poor woman’s sights were narrow enough as it was—and continued, "I hope you have a good excuse." She crossed her arms under what would have been her breasts had the woman any figure beyond that of a small boy’s, awaiting an explanation from the novice she presumed to have caught in the act of disobeying the rules Arwyn so revered.

Little did she know, the stinking harlot want-to-be. "Liliarta Sedai asked me to deliver this to a certain…" Rhonwyn paused, feigning stupidity and hence inability to pronounce the name, squinting at a warning the said Aes Sedai had issued to her brother under his alias. They had purposefully earned a warning slip and traded them so that if they were ever caught and needed an excuse, they could present the warning slip as verification of an errand.

Fortunately, Rhonwyn was spared the necessity of fabricating any further—Arwyn snatched the missive from Rhonwyn’s tentative grasp, suitably meek in the presence of such an awe-inspiring Accepted. Her dark eyes surveyed the slip and her thin lips pursed, her eyes finally returning to Rhonwyn. "Alright, child. But if I ever catch you wandering the halls this late at night again, I’ll be sure to send you to Madeline Sedai to see that you get your reprimand." Tirade concluded, the Accepted’s face contorted into a sneer as she glanced Rhonwyn up and down before turning heel and continuing on her rounds.

Rhonwyn rolled her gray eyes heavenward and continued on her way. She ceased her lurking, recognizing its futility as she had already been certified by the strict Accepted. Even so, her eyes slid from end to end down every hallway, searching for anything out of the ordinary. She had been trained to do so—and furthermore, to take advantage of every unusual opportunity that presented itself.

She knocked politely at her brother’s door, her heart beating rapidly in triumph at avoiding the interrogation she had almost caused herself. While waiting for her sibling’s response, she folded the warning slip and placed it into the bag attached to her belt, part of every novice’s uniform. At the silence from inside, Rhonwyn rolled her eyes once more in irritation. She would not allow her bloody brother to make her come all the way over here, so far away from the women’s quarters, and not show up! Great Creator, this had been their designated meeting time and place, and her brother had the audacity to shirk their duties? Light, Rhonwyn just wanted to get out of this bloody place, and if he delayed their plans because he couldn’t be in his room on this night of all nights, she would cut his flaming…

More than piqued, Rhonwyn opened the door without so much as a by your leave, anger reflected in gleaming eyes as well as the sound of the door slamming against the wall adjacent to it. It was neither the resultant noise that instigated the wide O her mouth constructed nor the blush that suffused her features at the sight awaiting her. She averted her eyes quickly. Though her brother’s naked figure was as beautiful as her own in its own way, Rhonwyn was shocked. This was her brother, and…Light, she’d never seen a man naked before!

There was a moment of shock before he turned to secure himself some underclothes and Rhonwyn, embarrassed, turned to shut the door behind her, studying the whitewash carefully so as to avoid her brother’s piercing gaze. "I’m decent," he finally proclaimed, his voice significantly less composed than it usually was.

Rhonwyn chose to forgo their perfunctory greeting hug with the suspicion that his…erm…manhood might serve as interruption. Though she’d never admit it, the Amadician was tempted to investigate the thing further, but that was impossible, of course. She glanced at him and grinned mischievously, finally succumbing with an apology. Her brother’s lips quirked in acknowledgement, but he said no more than his earlier declaration. "So… How are you, brother?" she began lamely, uncertain of how to begin the conversation that would come sooner or later.

Novice Rhydin, MuC
For Far More Important Things
Sun Dec 21 2003 12:21:48 am

The plan had been ingenious, it really had been! If only he hadn't fubbed it up at the last minute. The young man was muttering to himself as the shovel in his grasp was driven back down into the compost heap. The load was then tossed into a nearby wheel barrow, to be carted off once it was full. Again. Already he had been at this task for an hour, but it was nearly completed. Hopefully before the toll for lights out was sounded. He couldn't take another penance.

Rhydin paused to take a breath, and reflect upon the recent events that had landed him in hot water. A dare, a bloody dare had done this! The novice that bunked next door to him had instigated the entire affair, claiming that he wouldn't be able to pull a prank over on Accepted Lien. How could he have resisted? The idea that they had come up with over lunch was bloody brilliant. Manure from the horses was going to be placed in a thin sack, and waiting on the Accepted's doorstep come morning. But, there was a trick to the ordeal. They had decided to create a minute warding upon the sack, so once it was properly opened, a flame would spark within and set the manure on fire.

It hadn't been his fault that the weave he used was far too strong! They really should teach those things much earlier, Rhydin thought ruefully. On top of it all, the weave had been engaged prematurely, though he wasn't sure why or how it had been triggered. Regardless of all those things, an Accepted, the Accepted Lien, had encountered him attempting to disengage the fire rather unsuccessfully. Which left him exactly where he was now; mucking out stables as penance. It rankled, severely, that he could not get by with a simple prank, but could manage to commit so many other atrocious acts. Perhaps because his cohort hadn't been someone in particular...

Rhydin gave himself a quick shake to avoid daydreaming about her again. It never failed, either. With a sigh, and renewed vigor, he went about mucking out the rest of the stall, and pushing over the wheel barrow to the compost heap. Finally, it was the last load! Wiping the perspiration from his brow, he grimaced at his dirty hands and white tunic, glancing over toward Accepted Lien, who had overseen his penance once consulting an Aes Sedai. Many an unkind thought about the older man ran through his mind, but he prudently held his tongue still.

"Done? Good," the Accepted said, eyeing Rhydin up and down with a slight smirk. "I suppose you can go wash up now, though there isn't much time before lights out. You might make it, if you're quick." And it was obvious that the Accepted would be watching him every step of the way. He could've just screamed.

Only by rushing down the wide corridors at a quick jog when no one was in sight allowed him to wash up quickly, even though he had to don the dirty clothing again Rhydin felt a thousand times better. Skidding into the male novice quarters, a glance over his shoulder showed no one—Ah ha! A flash of white down the way, one attempting to furtively stash themselves against the wall. Snorting a laugh, he made way to his own quarters, all the white eternally damning him to perpetual colorblindness; or so he liked to fancy at times of doubt.

Bleached floorboards, sparkling walls, all because he scrubbed them each and every day. A narrow bed against one wall, and a few pegs upon the other where his clean tunics hung. Tossing the door shut quietly behind him, Rhydin lit one of the candles he was allowed and quickly stripped out of the clothing that smelled not-so-fondly of the stables, shoving them into a sack; a white sack, the one that they all used for laundry.

Knock-knock-knock.

Tilting his head, Rhydin glanced toward the doorway speculatively, where a polite but authoritative knock had sounded. Probably that bloody Accepted come to see if I made it before lights out… he thought, sneering at the prospect. Wouldn’t mind setting a brick through that stubborn stupid fool’s head! But, since he could not, the knocking was ignored and he went about retrieving his clothing, tossing the tunic, pants, and underclothes onto the bed. White! It was everywhere.

The latch clicked, and Rhydin felt the breeze from the doorway opening upon his bare backside. This was just too much and he had had enough of it! Turning about, anger sparking in his dark blue-gray eyes, he was prepared to gain another penance if just for a few unkind words to… to…

Blood and bloody ashes!

His mind absolutely shrieked at the prospect of who was standing there in the doorway, looking rather shocked. Staring… at him. Naked! Like a deer caught by bright torchlight, he could only stand there in bewilderment while Rhonwyn’s perfect lips shaped an "O" of surprise, blush infusing her cheeks that made her all the more endearing— Stop that line of thought. Right now! his mind demanded, barely listening as he clamored for some underclothes. The bed! That was where they were!

Was tonight supposed to be their designated meeting? For the life of him, Rhydin could not remember, not at all. Thankful for the closed door, he drew a deep breath, attempting to compose himself once more. "I’m decent…" he declared, chastising himself for the slight crack in his voice toward the end. One would never believe he had reached manhood upon hearing that faulty speech. But, light! She had tossed his brain into the midden heap with just one glance!

Well, apparently he had no need for the tunic and trousers any longer – he had been so certain that the Accepted was going to haul him off again! – so they were hung upon a peg accordingly, before he seated himself on the edge of the bed, eyeing Rhonwyn, who had… just asked him something. What did she just ask him? Frantically, he searched the recesses of his short term memory, coming up with the answer.

"Oh, I’m bloody fantastic!" Rhydin muttered, scrubbing a hand through his short light brown hair. "I just spent the last two hours mucking out stalls in the stable because…" Gulp. Did he actually have to admit this to Rhonwyn, of all people? He grimaced as his stomach twisted due to anxiety, before drawing a deep breath. "A prank went wrong earlier, and I received yet another penance for it."

Suddenly, he grinned with the admission out of the way, patting the spot next to him on the narrow bed. "Did you have any difficulty getting here?" He hoped not, for that could simply set everything awry, and foul up their plans to the worst extent. Then again, their parents would be most displeased if anything went wrong. "And doesn’t your big brother even get a hug?" The young man put on a mock-pout, as if actually hurt she hadn’t embraced him. Even if it was nice to feel her against him—No! There was no time to think those thoughts, and they were not proper.

"Light, Rhonwyn!" Rhydin muttered, eyeing the girl as she still kept her gaze averted, and shuffled her feet every so often, even if the action was barely noticeable. "It’s nothing to worry about. Besides, we have more important things to see to now. The Feast of Lights is only a few days away, and we haven’t even talked about this." Of course, there were a variety of reasons. More importantly, they were not brother and sister here, only two novices. Who would have believed that the both of them could channel?

"Let’s go over this one last time, yes?" Rhydin said quietly, glancing toward the doorway. At least one of them would be able to feel it if someone had decided to eavesdrop. Regardless, he pitched his voice lower, knowing that the timber could carry easily, albeit muffled, through the doorway. "We will meet at the designated spot the second night of the Feast…" This could really work. Novices were allowed such leeway upon those nights, given that all their duties and tasks were completed, that the duo could pull this off.

As he continued talking, Rhydin found himself studying Rhonwyn’s features intently. The line of her jaw, the curve of her lips when they quirked into a smile or the mischievous grin he knew so well and loved. The casual touches, the innocent hints, it was all a part of his relationship with her. After all, a man had to love and protect his sister...

Novice Rhonwyn
Procrastination
Sun Dec 21 2003 1:15:53 am

The girl shifted uncomfortably, finally braving her brother’s gaze. Neither of them had the tendency to avoid what could not be avoided; they were much too close to waste their time circling such nonsense. They were very open with another, which proved as both a benefit and a disadvantage, depending upon the occasion. This time, it was a mixture between the two. Rhonwyn was absolutely mortified that she’d witnessed her brother’s attire—or lack thereof—but simultaneously she was curious about it. Was that really how men looked when they were…well…aroused? Her family had never been the type to discuss matters such as the human anatomy, and she couldn’t decide to be thankful of this or not. She decided to settle for something between the two; she was grateful that her family had never been so crude, but rather ashamed that she hadn’t the courage to question her brother openly about matters such as this.

She swallowed her embarrassment, vowing for at least the third time that it would be the last time she’d have to do so. It was time to move on.

Even so, Rhonwyn found it difficult to concentrate on her brother’s words. She stared at his face with the utmost concentration, willing herself to see something other than the planes of his face. Tiers of light brown hair cascaded over a somewhat soft face, just beginning to harden into the rigidity of manhood. His eyes reflected the color of her own, and unlike hers, they didn’t seem to waver across her body as hers did. It was impossible to ignore the fact that he was clothed in nothing more than his underclothes. The novice strained to direct her eyes downward to see if that interesting phenomenon had dissipated, but she hadn’t the courage to do so. She folded her hands in her lap demurely and returned her gray eyes to her brother’s face, attempting to search his words instead of anything else.

Once she concentrated, it didn’t take as much effort as she’d made it out to require. Their plot was simplistic; at least, it had been before they’d ventured to the White Tower. Neither the pair nor their accomplice parents had any real idea of the hierarchy of Aes Sedai, so Rhonwyn and Rhydin had had to discern the details for themselves. The process had taken longer than either of them had expected. Though Rhonwyn would never admit that she found saidar more a jewel than a burden, as it should have been, she couldn’t deny that she wanted to get as far away from this hags as quickly as possible, and the fact that they had so little in the matter of previous preparation irked her endlessly. Her brother didn’t seem to have as much trouble adjusting to the foreign atmosphere of Tar Valon or its inhabitants, but Rhonwyn couldn’t forget that those that dwelled within this city were her enemies. She wanted to see the end of Aes Sedai, and she would do anything she could to bring that end about. She was just glad that Rhydin hadn’t abandoned her when it came to that, as he had in many other aspects.

She sighed, acknowledging that she shouldn’t be bitter over his absence. Before coming to this bloody place, the two had been inseparable. They weren’t twins, but they’d spent the majority of their childhood together, and the separation the Tower’s training necessitated left her miserable. She wanted nothing more than to return to the safety of her home in Amadicia. There she could be safe in the knowledge that there wasn’t a witch of an Aes Sedai for miles, she wasn’t risking her parents’ disappointment and possible estrangement, and most importantly, she could have her brother within close proximity whenever she desired his company.

Rhydin had apparently been pondering the details of their plot for some time, or so the increasing amount of detail suggested. Rhonwyn’s eyes widened as he continued through his description. It had been only a raw sketch before, but now he hadn’t neglected any details. When he finished, she could find few questions, let alone any objections. Once more, she was awed by her brother’s capacities. Blood and ashes, she only hoped that she didn’t prove a disappointment to her entire family by the time this catastrophe was concluded.

They had gravitated towards his narrow cot as he continued until finally they had abandoned propriety to make themselves comfortable upon it. Rhydin was settled in an upright position with his legs crossed, but Rhonwyn hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to stretch out on his bed, flat on her stomach. The pouch on her belt, a supposedly mandatory component of the novice uniform, pressed uncomfortably into her waist, so she rolled over, hands straying to her stomach. She stared up at her brother’s unrelieved white ceiling, content to note that his was much the same as hers was—at least they were suffering the indignity of mediocrity together.

"Who will do what, though?" she queried, face contorting into a frown as she contemplated the question. She didn’t care to do either role. Rhonwyn just wanted to be finished with the fiasco; she wished that it could be over with without her having to bother with experiencing it herself.

"What do you think?" Rhydin responded teasingly. Rhonwyn shot him an irritated glare but returned to the soothing white of the ceiling above shortly thereafter, unconsciously affording her brother the opportunity to look her prone figure up and down openly. "I’m better with weapons than you are, Rhonwyn." That he was, though Rhonwyn was a force to be reckoned with herself. With the complement advantage of the One Power, she was even better. Rhydin, as a male, might be stronger with his saidin, but he hadn’t the dexterity that she had. "It makes more sense for me to lie in waiting than you. You’d make a better serving girl, anyway."

The female sat bolt upright, curls flying to surround her glaring eyes. "Excuse me?" she spat, wondering what had taken hold of him. They joked frequently, of course, but Rhonwyn could never really grow accustomed to her brother’s crude sense of humor. She didn’t like it when he made cracks about her station and how proud of it she was, but he insisted on doing so despite her incessant objections.

Rhydin grinned in response, completely unfazed by her antagonistic retort. He drew close to her and slid a relatively well-muscled arm around her torso; his grin only widened at her indignant squeak. His chest and arms were still somewhat scrawny with youth, but he had the strength to hold her in place should he choose to do so. Rhonwyn shivered and jerked her eyes away from his, making incoherent grumbling noises despite the constriction her brother was providing against her chest. "I wouldn’t mind seeing you in White Tower livery…" He tweaked her at the waist, causing yet more indignant squeaks, but this time they were waning into ones of more amused intent. With lightning speed he removed his arm—why did she feel reluctance at that? it had to be that she just missed his perpetual presence—and began an all out attack, squeezing and poking in all the spots in which he knew her to be sensitive. She struggled half-heartedly, unwilling to be without his physical adjoining entirely, but also unwilling to suffer through the discomfort of writhing on a bed as he virtually humiliated her.

She stilled, thoughts distracted elsewhere. Was that what it would be like—humiliating? She flushed involuntarily, something that didn’t escape Rhydin’s notice. "Something wrong, sis?" What was wrong? Rhonwyn could only assume that the night wasn’t going well, considering the manner in which they had been forced to greet each other. Light, but she wished it could’ve come about any other way…or did she?

"No, no," she assured him, rolling over on her side to face him. He had somehow fallen to his side to recline next to her on the bed, a situation that would’ve been awfully improper had they not been brother and sister. She opened her mouth to inform him that she was still a bit embarrassed about interrupting him naked, but she bit back her words. He didn’t need to know that she was so easily discomfited, though he probably already knew and took sadistic pleasure in it. She pursed her lips and continued, "I like the way you’ve planned things out, anyway. It sounds good. You said you have the…?" She’d already forgotten what it was called. Hopefully Rhydin would know of what she was talking.

"Yes," he responded, turning away from her and leaning over his bed. She sat upright to peer at whatever contents he pulled from beneath it. He turned immediately with a bag of the herb, another hand casually pushing the weapons he’d inadvertently extracted back under his bed. She’d seen enough to know that he would be armed to the teeth by the time tomorrow afternoon came around. He sat upright to face her and opened his hand for hers. She placed it within his willingly, but instead of the closed grasp of his fingers that she had been anticipating, he replaced his warmth with the cool parcel of treachery. "This ought to be enough," he whispered, solemn mood restored. "You know what to do." She did. He kissed her good night on the cheek, and she immediately stood from his bed, glancing down at him from there. She paused to straighten her hair and clothing, eyeing him surreptitiously, and turned to the door where she opened and exited through it.

She paused outside the doorway. With the cool surface of the door tangible even through the thick wool of her whites and her brother’s warmth enclosed beyond it, she wanted nothing more than to go back in. She didn’t know what she’d do if she’d had the courage.

There’ll be time for such things later, Rhonwyn reassured herself, turning carelessly from the door to make the sneaky return to her own room. She didn’t know what she required the time for, but she’d find out eventually.

Novice Rhydin
Tolling Bells
Fri Dec 26 2003 12:31:03 am

Light, he had missed Rhonwyn! The young man couldn't believe how quickly the days had flowed past, one endless chore after the next, another lesson, another lecture... Those tasks had filled his days so completely, that it was rare he had a sparing thought for his own flesh and blood. But now! Here she was! It was so difficult not to simply reach out and grab his younger sister, which caused his plotting to be... lax in its telling.

Her eyes...

Suppressing a shiver, Rhydin used an old, and rather familiar, tactic of tickling all his sister's most sensitive places to help move his mind onto something else. Oh, his mind moved all right, into the midden heap! Even with her irritated glare, Rhonwyn was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. His sister! Creator's hand shelter him, but it was not right to have these sensations coursing through his veins concerning his own kin. But, through it all, their plans had been set into stone now. It was only a matter of time before they rolled into motion.

"Remember, at Low Bell, all right?" He watched his sister nod, slightly in exasperation, considering he was being overly cautious. But in the den of the wolf, one could never be careful enough. Biting back a sigh, he pressed a quick kiss to Rhonwyn's cheek, inhaling her clean scent out of simple habit. Light! Was it too much to ask if... No no, his thoughts would not trail upon that worn path now. They had more important plans afoot. Rhonwyn now had the item he had so carefully collected and stashed away, normally about his person to avoid being caught with such a thing, in her grasp. The person he most trusted in the world, and their fate rested upon if she would be able to carry out the deed.

Reluctantly, and regretfully, Rhydin watched Rhonwyn slink out the door, admiring the slight curve of her hips as the white woolen material stretched-- No! Stop that thought right there! Huffing loudly, he catapulted back onto the thin mattress, staring toward the ceiling in an attempt to... calm himself, somewhat. Flickering shadows cascaded across the small walls of what sometimes felt like his cell. He had been damned to this so-called White Tower. Who would have ever believed that such a wondrous thing had been found there? Saidin...

Sleep was a long time in coming. Dreams of... a highly inappropriate nature had a way of waking one.

Finally! The day had arrived. Rhydin no longer thought of it as the day he escaped from this prison, but as a day where tyranny would lose its strangle hold upon society. With those ideals, a spring had been placed into his step, and a smile upon those boyishly charming features. The grand assembly hall was to be decorated, and he used such as an opportunity to stake out the premises, as it were. The head table would be housing the Amyrlin, of course, as well as Keeper, Mistress of Novices, her assistants, and many of the Aes Sedai that held seats in the Hall, or were of much influence. To get them all... Well, that would be far too much to hope for! No no, he had to stick to the plan.

Considering his strength, Rhydin normally labored in the kitchens for the two hours after lunch, then went to lessons, then dinner. It was a very normal routine, and no one attempted to stop him as he meandered through the preparations for the festival. It would start soon, and one cook was already heading in his direction. He couldn't be interrupted, not now! Besides, he had yet to prepare. In reality, he was checking upon Rhonwyn, who could be seen off in one of the corners tending... Was it? Yes! One of the broilers upon which the tea kettles were near to steaming. Soon now...

"You there! Novice!" Uh oh. The cook was already making powerful strides, or as much as the woman's girth allowed, in his direction. Into his personal space. How he hated that! "Assist the novice tending the tea." Whap on the shoulder with a spoon. "Mind it now! That's for the Amrylin Seat!" Thwap thwap. "Hurry yourself!"

Scowling inwardly, Rhydin made quick time toward Rhonwyn, who was glowering and rubbing her arm. Even with the expression, she was one of the most beautiful creatures he had lain eyes upon. But, it looked as if she were in a foul mood, and not even noticing his arrival to help tend the kettles before the feast.

"Cook got you too?" he murmured beneath his breath, grasping one of the kettle handles and moving it onto an open flame. Rhonwyn gasped softly in surprise, but gave no other indication to that particular emotion. She was much more subtle than that. The narrowing of her eyes, pursed lips aching to be kissed-- Ach! No! Instead, he acted as if he were intent on his chore, knowing he couldn't stay too long.

"Yes," Rhonwyn muttered, biting off the word tersely, as if she would rather be biting off the cook's head. Shooting a clandestine glare in the woman's direction, her attention was returned to her brother. "Its done. I can't wait..." she trailed off into mumbles, though likely giving voice, no matter how quiet, about how glad she will be once they leave this place. He couldn't agree more.

Rhydin let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, nodding slightly. "Good. Listen, I have to finish helping in the hall. I'll see you later." His words weighted by the significant glance he spared for his sister's rather exasperated expression, which brought about a quick grin. "I'm sure you'll look wonderful as a serving maid."

"Why you--!!" but he was already ducking out of the way, and beyond the kitchens. Oh, how the next few hours would drag by! He knew they would, and it agrivated Rhydin beyond belief. These wretched, so-called Healers of humanity were nothing more than children playing games! They bullied and prodded with calm-faced assurance that the person would do what they wanted; and, if not? Creator help them, they would get such an arm twisting that they wouldn't know up from down by the time it was done and over with!

Though the smile was slow in returning, it did come about. Thoughts of Rhonwyn and he returning to Amadicia fueling them forward. Back in the manor, back to being together. The final hours sped past with happy memories, thoughts of his lovely sister, and idle preparations, even allowing Rhydin to shrug off a sharp word from an Aes Sedai, or a scolding from an Accepted. Then...

Low Bell tolled.

Soon...

Rhonwyn
Phase One
Fri Dec 26 2003 4:38:05 pm

Rhonwyn hadn’t really been able to sleep that night. The multiple difficult aspects of her life had torn her dreams asunder, rendering sleep near to impossible. What sleep she had managed to procure had been fitful at best, and nightmares had wracked what little restful sleep she might have gotten. Dawn found her twisted among the insufficient blankets littering her bed—cot, more like,—eyes glistening with tears. All night long she’d had to resist the urge to sneak to her brother’s room for comfort and companionship.

Her dreams wouldn’t leave even that relationship in peace. As innocent as both their intentions were—surely they were innocent—her subconscious found the association both despicable and dangerous. Rhonwyn wanted more than anything to seek her brother’s room, no matter the danger of being caught and jeopardizing their plans, and many times through the night she had found herself jumping from bed and gazing contemplatively at her gaping wardrobe. It would have been so simple to put on one of those white dresses and scurry over to the men’s section of the Novice Court… It wasn’t as if she’d never done so before. However, her dreams gave her pause. They’d been entirely indecent, much to her chagrin, and she was worried that if she sought the comfort of her brother’s arms with even the most innocent of intentions, the liaison would become just that—a more intimate affair.

The novice wished more than anything that the morning wasn’t that of the Festival of Lights—she couldn’t bear the thought that she’d have to endure such a long bloody day after getting next to no sleep. There was no telling when next she’d see a bed, if ever. She shivered at the thought and burrowed further into the blankets, but she found neither warmth nor comfort there. Scenes from her dreams replayed themselves inside her head as if of their own volition, constantly reminding her of that which she was denied…

Eventually she gave up and got out of bed. Lessons were dismissed for the day, but the Aes Sedai would brook no rest until evening. Novices were relegated to the usual chores, primarily decoration. The White Tower’s festivals were renowned throughout the land; the Amyrlin extended invitations to all the nobility in the friendly world. Not all attended, of course, but most courts sent representatives to maintain a cordial front. Rhonwyn had been assigned the duty of wandering the halls with candles to place in every window, supporting the festival’s name. She was supposedly talented enough with the One Power that today, at least, she could light each candle unsupervised. She prayed more channeling would go unnoticed.

She dressed herself as usual, but today she filled the pouch at her belt with the cloth-wrapped bundle her brother had placed in her hands the evening before. She couldn’t afford to lose that—all their plans hinged upon it. She would not be a disappointment to both her brother and her family. But never, never Rhydin.

First, she had another duty to which she had to attend. It didn’t take much effort to sneak into the kitchen among the novices assigned with such duties. It was mid-afternoon, so the kitchen was bustling in preparation for the night’s feast. Pleasant scents permeated the air, but Rhonwyn seemed to have lost all sense—the lump in her throat and the roiling of her belly prevented her from feeling much more. She assumed the guise of intimidated novice—it really wasn’t hard—and crept to one of the corners where a number of water-filled pots boiled. One of the cooks handed her a number of envelopes, remarkably similar to the one carefully concealed at her belt, and instructed her as to which would go in which pot. It was a daunting task, considering the number of pots, but Rhonwyn wasn’t truly intimidated. She didn’t much mind if she failed, since she had more to deal with than if the bloody Seat Cushion would be pleased with the tea she’d made. It’s not like the woman would have a sense of taste once the contents of the tea got into her system.

The duty might not have been so troublesome, had the cook not been rapping her with a spoon whenever she noticed Rhonwyn going too slowly for her tastes. The assignment had her in quite a temper, glowering at whoever incurred her wrath. She almost snapped at a novice the cook sent in her direction to assist her…but her knees froze before she had the chance to.

She swallowed and concentrated carefully on the boiling pots before her, nearly burning herself in the process. Light, don’t be awkward, you bloody fool, she chastised herself. Rhydin grinned at her companionably, nudging her in the ribs with a few casual words. Rhonwyn resisted the urge to give him a hug; they couldn’t be associated with one another, though after this night they certainly would be. She tried not to take pleasure in the thought that they could be seen openly with one another. Well, not openly, assuming their plans went as intended, but at least they’d be able to hide together. She smirked at the thought of sharing close spaces with her older brother and then blushed when she realized what she’d been contemplating. Light, surely her dreams hadn’t been that close to home…had they?

Rhydin was gone much too quickly. She sighed and returned to her duties, though there wasn’t much left to do. Her back to the kitchens, she glanced furtively about herself to ascertain that no one was watching, and made as if she was scratching a particularly irritating itch. Rhonwyn snatched the parcel of herbs from her pouch and surreptitiously placed it foremost among the herbs already set aside. That was the most difficult part, and she’d completed it successfully…so why was her stomach still roiling in fear? The novice bit her lip and lifted the parcel, amazed that her hands were shaking only imperceptibly. She split the contents of the fabric between two of the pots.

There. She was done. She set the two aside to steep and glanced to the cook, informing her that they had only to steep before they could be delivered to the Amyrlin. The cook nodded in affirmation and dismissed her to whatever duties that she had left to attend.

Dusk had descended, accompanying the sun, but the Tower was far from dark. From her vantage point at one of the White Tower’s highest points, Rhonwyn was afforded quite a view—she could see across the entire island on which Tar Valon rested, not to mention the majority of the Tower’s grounds. Too bad she didn’t have much of a chance to enjoy it. She sighed wearily and watched the darting figures below. Though the sun had descended, the Tower’s perimeter was decorated with so many lights that she could see virtually everyone below. The servants had constructed a number of silk tents that were as brightly lit as everything else—this was the Festival of Lights. Rhonwyn suspected that only the White Tower could see the festival’s name manifested in reality this successfully.

She pressed her face against the cool panes of glass separating herself from the world outside and repeated her sigh. The glass served the dual purpose of keeping her at a safe distance and cooling her racing temperature. She was sweating all over, all of it from nerves. The novice wished once more that she could see her task done without experiencing it; she yearned to sleep now and wake in the morning with the thought that all would be well. But will it be? She couldn’t say. Her parents had trained herself and her brother for this since they reached adolescence. That should’ve granted her a measure of confidence, but Rhonwyn found her hands shaking and her cheeks flushed in nervousness rather than the certainty her training was supposed to have given her.

Rhonwyn stepped back from the window and placed a hand upon the cool surface for steadiness. She looked herself up and down, studying her garb thoughtfully. She wished she’d paid more attention to the numerous servants of the White Tower. She was no stranger to servants, being from a noble House herself, but her nerves brought forth suspicion after suspicion. Was she wearing the livery correctly? The blonde bit her lip and studied her pale reflection in the glass; she could find nothing amiss. Her hair was braided and twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck; she’d seen servants wear their hair just so. Her shoes might prove to be a problem, being the white leather that all novices wore, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what real White Tower servants wore instead. The livery was white, embroidered simply with the flame of Tar Valon, so she doubted the addition of white boots looked unusual with the rest of the ensemble.

Stop being a twit, she scolded herself, face contorting into a scowl. You’re worrying too much. She tried to think of what Rhydin would have told her in this situation, and she was sure he’d probably tell her the same thing as her own mind. This wasn’t the time to worry. Yes, she’d have to be caution itself, but too much caution could cause their plans to go awry.

It was time. Gray eyes widened as she watched the Amyrlin and her entourage cross the courtyard in as grand a march as they could muster. The festival was about to begin. Rhonwyn bit her lip and ran as quickly as she could down the stairs, praying that she’d get to the kitchens and then the Great Hall before the Amyrlin’s speech was concluded. She had no idea how long-winded the Mother would be, considering she’d never before attended one of the White Tower’s festival, but she prayed that the woman could babble like no other, at least tonight.

She was panting by the time she reached the kitchens. They were in even more a furor than they had been earlier; the feast wasn’t due to start for a number of hours, but they were supposed to provide refreshments for the dancers, the first phase of the festival. It was simpler than she’d expected it to be to sneak among the servants scurrying to and fro, and even simpler to relegate herself the duty of carrying the two teapots out of the kitchen.

It became more difficult when she reached the Great Hall. The White Tower’s initiates were everywhere; Rhonwyn had to navigate through a labyrinth of channelers so that her ability to channel would go unnoticed. She finally located a route that saw her to the back steps of the dais successfully, and she exhaled sharply as she noted that the refreshment table was far to the back, granting her the opportunity to set the teapots down and leave just as quickly without getting close to any of the Aes Sedai. Rhonwyn scurried up, grateful that her months as a novice granted her the true definition of scurrying, and sighed in relief as she set the pots aside. A matronly servant stood behind the table and exhaled with as much relief as Rhonwyn, though hers was, as the woman informed Rhonwyn’s retreating back, due to the fact that the Amyrlin’s tea had finally arrived.

She scampered down the steps and spent a few moments leaning against a pillar to catch her breath. She glanced back to the dais just as the Amyrlin Seat pronounced, "Let the festivities begin!" Rhonwyn turned to the massive audience, searching for her brother among the crowd. He wouldn’t be visible, she knew. She scanned the stained glass windows lining the room and noted a shadow that just as easily could have been ice or snow, had Rhydin not told her that he’d be watching from up there. She sighed in relief and then mumbled to herself at the thought of climbing all that way to watch with him. Well, it was necessary. She tried to assure herself that she wasn’t doing it just so she could be closer to her brother.

There was a well-disguised staircase behind the dais outside the Great Hall; it was located above a midden heap, precisely why it was so well hidden. It only went so far as the eaves of the building, where the stained glass slanted to the angled roof that sheltered the Great Hall from the elements. Rhydin hadn’t gone far along the eaves, for which Rhonwyn was thankful—she was somewhat afraid of heights. Light, climbing the stairs was difficult enough, considering the amount of snow and ice coating the treacherous surface of each step, but she endured anyway, biting her lip every time her boot caught a delicate surface and almost sent her over the edge.

She edged onto the eaves. They were barely a pace wide, but it was enough to walk almost steadily to Rhydin’s perch. He noted her approach long before she arrived, for which she was thankful—he had somehow procured a Warder’s cloak, causing him to blend into the surface of the windows easily, assuming he made few movements. He extended his hand when she was near enough that her brother could grant his support. He didn’t retrieve his hand afterward, but instead twined his fingers with hers, his thumb caressing the web of skin between her thumb and index finger. She shivered with both the touch of his hand to hers and the fitful breeze scattering snow about them and glanced up at him expectantly. He noticed her look and wrapped an arm around her, his hand stretching to the crook of her waist, abandoning her hand. She snaked her hand around his back and snuggled against him for warmth, or so she told herself. And besides, his proximity entailed that the fancloth cloak was largely covering her, as well. It wouldn’t do for them to be seen.

He tilted her face to his with his free hand, and for a moment Rhonwyn suspected he was about to do the unspeakable. Her breath caught and her chest heaved in expectation, her lips pouting hopefully, slightly spread. He jerked his eyes away with obvious effort—was he plagued by the same temptations as she?—and directed her gaze through a clear portion of glass through which she could see the dais’s entire expanse. Her stomach roiling—this time with butterflies and not nausea—her brother nudged her to the side just enough to bring his face close to her own so he could see as well.

Was it her imagination, or did he tighten his arm around her and pull her closer to his length? Was it her imagination, or was his chest heaving just as much as hers?

Rhydin
A New Plan Hatched
Fri Dec 26 2003 11:32:05 pm

Things were not as difficult as he had expected. In a way, it was all too easy. Suspiciously so. Half the evening, Rhydin's hair 'pon the back of his neck prickled in anticipation and warning. Often, he was glancing over his shoulder, as if to catch the person studying him. But there never was one, nor could he shake the feeling, or the heightened senses that nervousness brought. Light help him, but his outwardly pleasant demeanor felt as if it were about to crack! Rhonwyn would be cool, calm, and collected right now; whereas he all but shivered in his white leather Novice boots.

With the hustle and bustle of large amounts of white-dressed male channelers, along with their female counterparts, he was hardly noticed meandering through the courtyard that normally served as training grounds for Gaidin, or Gaidar, to be. It was here that Rhonwyn had need to find a certain garment that few Warders allowed out of their sights; especially the newest to rise to their highly esteemed rank. The task took the better part of an hour, under the guise of making sure the paths were swept clean for the festival, and he was becoming worried that the cloak could not be found at all, when... What have we here? His mental tones mocking a careless Protector.

Upon one of the benches sat a set of saddlebags, dusty and worn. An obvious sign of someone returning recently from journey, more than likely for the festival. But, looped through the casing at one point, was what Rhydin had searched nearly desperately for. A fancloth cloak. No one was nearby, and he could not hear boots crunching upon gravel, or whispering across stone. He had to be quick though, considering that particular Warder would return any moment for the precious item. Unloosing it from the bags, Rhydin found it alarmingly disconcerting to hold a cloak which constantly shifted and adapted to its current surroundings. His eyes told him he practically held nothing but a set of blurred colors, while his hands stated that he held a finely wrought cloak that would stand against multitudes of elements. Overcoming his momentary shock, the man in Novice white ghosted away, and just in time too. Steps crunched faintly along the walkway.

The item was not stashed away in his quarters, it wouldn't be safe there anymore really. Already, he had the few items needed about his person; belt pouch, containing what little coin he did have, a knife tucked into each boot and at the small of his back, plus a few other odds and ends. He had decided against going heavily armed, the weapons stashed away nearby. Very near, just incase there was need. Light send and grant him mercy, he hoped there would not be!

Instead, he had to stealthily make his way past the stables, kitchens, and the Great Hall! Rhydin swore he was sweating buckets by doing just such a thing, but everyone was turned inward at the Hall, and the doors halfway shut in an attempt to keep it a bit warm. Though, with so many people about, it would likely become stifling soon, if unless the One Power was used. Could it be used in that fashion, though? He had a few inklings, but deigned not to even bother contemplating such events at current; instead he located the midden heap by scent and bright flickering candlelight. Just beyond it was... There! The stairway that could be taken upwards, where he could observe the plan unfold, ensconced safely beyond their reach for the time being.

Carefully settling the fancloth cloak about his wide shoulders, Rhydin began the careful climb up the staircase, a hand planted against the frigid stone wall for support. Only once did his boot not provide decent traction, and he nearly tumbled face first into the steps, earning a set of bruised palms for the effort. But it would all be worth it. Their parents had assured them of that, time and time again. If only he could have Rhonwyn with him now! Moments later, he was upon the pace-wide eaves, sheltered by stone wall to his back, and a stained glass window to his front. The tinted glass changed his perception of the party, blurring it slightly, but the important figures were still easily visible. The Amyrlin, Mistress of Novices, attached Warders... The lot of them! Then, amplified through the hall, he heard four fateful words.

"Let the festivities begin!"

Absently, Rhydin tossed up the hood to his cloak, leaning slightly against the cold wall behind him. The scent of ter'angreal fabric was distracting, but it continually faded, as if washed. Shaking his head, footfalls were heard once again, but these he expected, waiting in anticipation for her face. It was as if he had uttering a sigh of relief, though no such thing occurred, it was infinitely better now that Rhonwyn was here.

Twining his fingers with her's, he felt and sensed her shiver, instead deciding to sling an arm about his sister so they would both be warm. Rhydin had to wonder what his own expression looked like; it felt as if his face were carved from ice. Carefully arranging the cloak about Rhonwyn as well, he couldn't help but study her fair features, using his hand to gain better light, if just for a moment. Then, applause and laughter ensued; the festival had truly begun. Yanking his gaze away, he forced himself to peer through the glass, observing the festivities. In doing so, he nudged Rhonwyn's features so they would share the same line of sight, or nearly as well. Yet, just to inhale her clean scent, feel her warmth again, it was difficult to concentrate. His fingers tightened about her small waist, to make sure she wouldn't slip upon the icy eave -- or so he told himself -- and reveled in her warmth. No! Blood and ashes!

Forcing his heart to stop pounding, and his breathing to slow immensely, Rhydin returned to his study of the festivities. Waiting... waiting... There! The Amyrlin was just now taking a sip of her tea. Though features cold, he could somewhat feel himself grin. It was only a matter of time now.

Meanwhile...

"Oh, come on, Marlie!" one of the serving women in White Tower livery pleaded, hands clasped at her breast, though a beatific smile adorned the young woman's features. Obviously, she thought it was possible to coerce the kind-faced woman that was tending a number of things for the festival.

"You do know better, girl!" Marlie said with a harrumph, pausing to stop a servant to inspect a tray, then ushering them on their way. "I do no need that trouble here."

"Please?!" Uh oh, the woman was cracking... Marlie paused, a scrutinizing gaze practically ripping the girl apart.

"Fine." An imperious hand rose to forestall any celebrations, though. "There be more than enough, anyhow. Take this," Marlie's hand maneuvered over toward a broiler, where a fine Seafolk porcelain teapot of blue waited, transferred over to a silver tray with accompanying tea cups. "Go out and do be quiet about it! There be enough for the Gaidin, too. It do be cold, and will do them good. Now, off with you! I do have important things to be about!"

The nameless serving girl curtsied, scurrying off with the silver tray in her hands, the smile widening fractionally. Victorious.

Rhydin stirred impatiently, loathe to remove himself from Rhonwyn's warm frame that was oh-so-companionably cuddled into his own, but something bothered him. A doubt, having tickled at the back of his mind for the last few days, had now grown into a palpable fear. So much that his heart raced at the mere possibility which seemed to be coming to life. It couldn't be! An hour's half had easily passed by, if not more, and the Amyrlin was still overseeing the events, along with all of her table companions. Tea cups had been refilled once or twice over, and a few sips of wine had been taken as well. If anything, that should have quickened the effects, not forestalled them!

"You did put in the entire packet, didn't you?" he asked his sister quietly, receiving a hard jab in the side for his troubles, to which he grunted at. No, it wasn't her fault, though he never found himself the ability to be angry with Rhonwyn. Still, he had to ask! The fear was gnawing at his mind, and though h is sister had given no sign of doubt, he couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipatory anxiety.

"Of course I did!" Rhonwyn growled beneath her breath, chancing a glance toward her brother, if only to glare at him. Of course she did. Somehow, he found the breath to sigh in relief, just for her own task being completed properly. Had he not retrieved the correct herbs? Was it somehow his doing? "Why?" she suddenly asked, curiosity tinged with the slightest bit of suspicion.

"Well..." He cringed, knowing there was no possible way that he could put the best face upon these matters. "There was enough in that packet to have easily put down the entire head table." Ignoring Rhonwyn's stifled gasp, and widening of her eyes, Rhydin gritted his teeth. "Which means, either I fouled up horribly..."

"... Or the Amyrlin isn't drinking the right tea!" Rhonwyn finished for her brother. He knew his sister was intelligent, but that she saw something so quickly caused his chest to swell with momentary pride. It couldn't be helped. And being so close to her, like this, was maddening. They were practically cheek to cheek, just to hear one another over the sounds of cheer and light harmonies of the musicians' creation. Rhydin's breath felt hot and ragged in his throat, and somehow he knew it was not all fear. As if of their own accord, his lips brushed against Rhonwyn's perfectly sculpted jaw line, eliciting a sort of gasp from her.

It wasn't just him! She wasn't even pulling away! He felt absolutely dumbfounded with the implication, quickly drawing back to regain his thoughts. But they were scattered to the wind, dumbeningly watching his hand raise to caress the sensitive flesh along the side of Rhonwyn's neck. A certain touch would tickle, and another...

"What..." Rhydin's voice croaked, causing the young man to grimace at its ill effects upon the situation. He attempted once more. "What are we going to do?" The man of a thousand plans was asking his sister what to do? Perhaps it was a testament to how little blood was reaching his brain at the moment, but he found that he could not stop caressing her neck and throat. Intoxicating...

"We... um," she paused, obviously collecting herself. "We have to make certain that she meets her fate. Tonight!" Rhydin's eyes widened slightly with the force of his sister's words, but nodded nonetheless, and hardly in reluctance. Long moments passed in agonizing silence, where he nearly dared to stray closer than was proper. But was he not already doing such a thing, touching his sister in an intimate fashion like this? "I know!" Rhonwyn suddenly said, startling him from his revelry. "Meet me in the Amyrlin's anteroom in a quarter hour."

"But..." he began to protest, not seeing how this was going to help matters any. It was stalking into the wolf’s den!

"Just do it!" she stated with authority, prodding Rhydin's chest with a stiff finger. At his slightly hurt expression, her tone softened somewhat. "Trust me?"

"I do." It was that simple. He did trust his sister, more than anyone else living. With her swaying closer to him, Rhydin's mind was quickly spiraling down into the abyss, and he cared not a whit any longer. His cool palms cupped Rhonwyn's flawless cheeks, framing her fair features as his own tilted against her's for a kiss. One that went beyond the bounds of kin, and into a world of the taboo. A nip at Rhonwyn's lip, and a loving embrace, he darted away, down the icy staircase to do his sister's bidding.

Rhydin's mind roiled furiously as he went, along with an all too familiar sensation welling deep within the pit of his abdomen as he thought of his sister. First, plans. Then... Well, then they would see where this all led them to. Still feeling his lips tingle with the warmth of Rhonwyn's own, he went to collect his weapons. Then...

Into the wolf's den.

Rhonwyn
A Wolf Among Sheep
Sat Dec 27 2003 2:22:10 am

Fifteen minutes. Light, would that be enough time? Rhonwyn abandoned her tendency to cling to the frigid wall at her side for long enough to lift a shaking hand. Once it reached its destination at one of her temples, she couldn’t recall the purpose of the action. Perhaps she was hoping to lend herself steadiness of mind by placing a sure hand to her forehead, but given that her hands were shaking like leaves in the breeze, the effort proved futile. She nearly slipped with her hand distracted elsewhere, so quickly the novice returned her hand to the wall, one clenched tightly to the banister at her side despite its thick coat of snow. It wasn’t as if she had much feeling in her hands anymore anyway.

No, her hands seemed separate entities with minds of their own. With those minds came memories—this time previous sensations distracted them. Her hands were numb to the feeling of cold surrounding them because they recalled the warmth so recently disappeared.

The touch at her neck surprised her more than she cared to admit. Had it not been for Rhydin’s steadfast grip about her waist, Rhonwyn was worried she might have caught a patch of ice that could have sent her colliding into the delicate glass before her and down to her death upon the dais below. Wouldn’t that be anticlimactic? an all too detached portion of her intoned, refusing to allow the situation a semblance of reality. A hand stretched reflexively to the back of her brother’s neck to serve the dual purpose of balancing herself and drawing him closer.

She gasped and struggled to concentrate on his words. The gravity of their situation brought them home. Light, why’d this have to happen now? The novice gasped and resisted the urge to draw his lips to hers. Burn these teasing caresses; Rhonwyn wanted his lips upon hers now. If they were going to commit the unspeakable, bloody hell, she was going to enjoy it.

No. She couldn’t allow herself that, not now! With the determination came clarity of mind, and Rhonwyn took full advantage of it. She had an idea! Light, she prayed it would work. They’d come much too far to have everything go awry in the plan’s last stretches. She found herself pulling away from her brother’s embrace—blood and ashes, she dreaded the cold that came from the separation, the sense of distance when just moments ago she’d felt so complete. He insistently kept his arm around her waist, however, so she wasn’t completely alone. Light, she wanted to abandon all this immediately and run off with him, never mind the consequences. Burn reality.

Rhonwyn had resigned herself to the distance when Rhydin managed to astound her with his physicality once more. Her lips separated in a gasp as her brother’s palms came up to cradle her flushing cheeks. Her stomach continued its ridiculous roiling, again nothing like the nausea that had earlier been plaguing her, and the feeling only escalated as her lips connected with Rhydin’s own. She moaned into his mouth, inadvertently drawing his tongue into the warm recesses beyond her lips, and innocently she returned the probe. The kiss continued, the passion increasing until the kiss could no longer be dismissed as the innocent experimentation between brother and sister. Rhonwyn had been hoping that was how she’d be able to excuse it.

And oh, it ended much too soon. Her brother pulled away just as she was gaining the courage to press her frame to his; her lips reached upward into empty air as Rhydin graced her with a final nip before abandoning her moist lips to the cruel winter air. She watched his retreating back with disappointment but soon followed suit.

She hadn’t even noticed that she had reached the stairway’s termination; nor had she noticed that her fingers were caressing the chapped surface of her lips wonderingly. Her gray eyes were opened wide in memory, but she saw little of the endless white littering the ground until she resurfaced from the memory. Rhonwyn jumped in a start and glanced about her quickly, hoping no one had seen her abeyance. The area was empty—all were likely seeking the warmth of the Great Hall. She wished that both she and her brother were but normal novices, granted one night out of many months to dance and enjoy a little time off, and maybe, just maybe, a bit of solace in each other’s arms…

Rhonwyn shook her head to dispel the hope, but it did little good until she forced her feet to move in step after step in the direction of the Great Hall. She was well aware that her cheeks were more than liberally tinged with pink, but she prayed that the flush would be attributed to the frigidity of the air outside, or maybe just nerves at being surrounded by so many important personages. After all, she was but a lowly servant. Surely no one suspected otherwise.

She slipped into the back entrance, the egress she’d utilized earlier. Before meeting her brother, she wanted to find out what had happened to that bloody tea. If it could be rescued and render the next phase of their plan pointless, then she would take advantage of it. If not, well…thank the Light that she’d had the creativity to come up with a back up plan when even her brother could not.

With so many female channelers in the perimeter, Rhonwyn was confident that she’d not need to sneak about to disguise the spark within her, or so she hoped. If she moved quickly enough, no one would be able to distinguish her from the myriad of channelers around her, and servants were known to scurry, especially in such an anxiety-filled atmosphere as that of the White Tower. She walked quickly to the dais—the entry wasn’t directly adjacent to it and required a short walk—and scampered up the stairs, avoiding a pair of stony-faced Gaidin that made their way downwards simultaneously, eyes on everything but she. At least I’m succeeding at being invisible, she reassured herself, giving a short nod before turning her eyes to the table where she’d put the tea.

As Rhydin had suggested, it wasn’t there. Neither of the pots she’d so carefully prepared graced the refreshment table now, much to her dismay. She scanned the area of the dais, frowning in disappointment that she could find neither the pots nor their accompanying cups. Rhonwyn bit her lip and retreated from the elevation, making her way across the Great Hall, keeping a distance from the morose people lining the walls and those populating the dance floor. Ever-wary gray eyes searched for the tea but found nothing among those within the Great Hall.

She steeled herself against the intruding wall of air that hit her as she exited the ballroom, but it did little good. Her body and mind still remembered her brother’s intimate warmth all too well. Light, how much time is left? she queried, tensing nervously. Surely not much. The novice quickened her pace, wrapping her arms about her in an effort at procuring warmth. The sturdy wool of her livery did little to keep the cold out, let alone the intruding breezed from beneath her skirt.

The novice was beginning to abandon hope when she caught sight of a Warder slumped against a tree near one of the tents. She tilted her head to the side and walked surreptitiously past; she gave him a studious glance, knowing it would go unnoticed given the oddity of the Gaidin’s situation. A few other fellows accompanied him, all similarly clad, as well as a particularly obnoxious servant girl that was teasing all of them endlessly, despite the fact that she was weaving as much as they. None of them could channel. Rhonwyn bit her lip, gray eyes traveling elsewhere as she pondered the difficulty of their situation. Light, what had Rhydin put into that packet, anyway? That was tea, so it wasn’t as if the people could be suffering from intoxication. He hadn’t…meant to poison anyone, had he? You’re nine kinds of fool, Rhonwyn. It was true. Why else had they been tutored in all types of herb if not to differentiate between dangerous and harmless and put them to use? Would they die, then?

She ignored the intriguing thought and continued onwards. Ten minutes had passed at the least, and Light, she wasn’t even sure where the Amyrlin’s office was, considering she’d never been there. She had, however, been to the Mistress of Novices’s office, so surely all the administrative facilities were located near one another.

Rhonwyn took a route through the Novice Court so that she could change back into novice whites and grab a few belongings. There was no telling when she’d ever see this room again, let alone its contents. She felt a few moments’ sadness at the thought, but it quickly passed. She had no ties with this Tower and no temptation to establish any. Her primary concern was her family, Rhydin firstly, and her parents were staunchly against the White Tower and all it stood for. Rhonwyn tried to convince herself that she was, too, but after living here for so many months, it was difficult for her to come up with the persuasion necessary to revert to the hate she had once endured.

Now she could only hope that the Keeper’s office—the Amyrlin’s anteroom—was empty. She was working off the assumption that both of the women would be distracted from their duties due to the festival below, but it was just that, an assumption. The Tower was busy enough that she wasn’t sure it allowed even those highest in its hierarchy couldn’t always find respite.

She peered down either direction of the corridor, but it was empty. This was the location of the Mistress’s office, a place she’d only attended once, when she’d been enrolled and her name written down in the books. She continued quickly down the hallway, ears attuned for sounds of movement that could put her in danger. There was only silence. The hallway turned and widened, the decoration becoming grander the further she went. The hall terminated in a large double door that, from the symbol of the Aes Sedai gleaming back at her, could only be the entrance to the Amyrlin’s office.

"There you are," her brother hissed urgently from the recesses of a niche to the door’s right. Rhonwyn jumped and brought a hand to her chest in surprise, her breasts heaving from labored breath from both surprise and her sibling’s presence. "What took you so long? I was starting to worry."

Rhonwyn jerked her eyes from Rhydin’s, turning to the door looming before them. "We need to go in," she said quietly, "and then I’ll explain." Before the male novice could object, she swung the door open—the hinges were well-oiled, instigating not a creak—and entered the room, her brother with little more to do than follow in her wake.

The room was empty. Thank the Light…it was empty. And eerily silent. Rhonwyn moved slowly forward, mouth agape as she surveyed her surroundings. Only a clock on the far mantle and the heaviness of her own breath interrupted the silence. She jumped at the click of the door shutting behind her and turned to watch her brother through narrowed eyes. "I think our tea got diverted to some Gaidin," she informed him. "Are they going to…?" The phrase ended in an unspoken question. Rhonwyn hadn’t the audacity to ask him outright.

"I…don’t know," he answered diplomatically. He approached her, and her heart stopped as he took one of her hands in his, caressing it with the callused pads of his hand. "Don’t worry. Everything will work out."

Rhonwyn gave a thoughtful nod, and then retrieved her hand from her brother’s. She wished it didn’t shake so obviously. She wandered to the opposite side of the Keeper’s desk and seated herself with only the slightest of hesitations. The chair was horribly uncomfortable. She sighed and rummaged through what drawers the woman had not warded, and finally located a quill, inkpot, and parchment. She scrawled a quick note and then searched some more until she found an already written letter of the Keeper’s; she carefully forged the Aes Sedai’s signature onto her own paper and returned the letter to its place.

"Is that what we’re going to do, then?" Rhydin’s lips quirked upward in a smile. Was he pleased? Rhonwyn’s heart began to beat faster—she was certain she was going to explode if he kept making her feel so much so quickly. He leaned over her as if to read the letter more closely, but this time Rhonwyn knew his true intentions. She surprised him by securing his head in her hands and pressing her lips to his; she nearly missed, her lips so blindly seeking his in inexperience, but Rhydin corrected her mistake by parting her lips with his tongue. She stood without breaking their lip-lock and pressed herself against him, gasping as she inadvertently connected with the rigid length she had seen only yesterday. He pushed her up against the desk, lifting her to seat her upon it. Instinct spread her legs and beckoned him forward, though the clothing separating them did little to satiate their desire.

"No," Rhonwyn finally gasped when her brother’s hands strayed to the buttons at her bodice. "No," she said with more confidence, pulling backward from Rhydin and doing everything but looking directly after him. "We have to deliver this, or better yet, get someone to do it for us." She held the piece of parchment up like a shield, though shields likely never wavered as much as this one.

Rhydin
Even Wolves Can Be Stalked
Sat Dec 27 2003 7:23:21 pm

Anxiety.

This plot was moving along poorly, and time passing far too quickly. Rhydin's mind equated it to a boulder cascading downhill at a rapid rate, while he was powerless to stop it. But there was no one small ray of light amidst all the humdrum and worry; his faithful sister, the one that would never do him wrong. Regarding women, Rhydin saw nearly all of them as a burden to mankind, excepting his jewel, Rhonwyn, who had long surpassed her mother's beauty, with, and most importantly, intelligence.

Hope.

Could his sister have a plan that would still allow them to complete their duties, and return home to Amadicia? How he prayed! Skirting through the grand halls and corridors of the White Tower, Rhydin managed avoiding servants and discrete patrolling Warders on the prowl; though he was never certain how he managed the latter. Wonders of wonders... Once, he had been sent to the Keeper's office -- the Amyrlin's anteroom -- by an Aes Sedai to deliver a message, so he consequently took the most direct route he could manage while avoiding any possible gazes.

Fear.

Absently, his hands checked the new array of weaponry stashed about his person before crawling into a nook near the Amyrlin's office entrance. Rhydin knew he would have to wait simply forever, moments marked in passing by the steady thump-thump-thump-thump of his heart. Whatever Rhonwyn had planned, he was certain that things would turn out well once it was all said and done.

Thump-thump... Thump-thump...

"There you are!" Rhydin was surprised he had squeaked when his sister arrived, reluctantly following Rhonwyn further inside the office. There, things became more apparent, the plan clearer. The Gaidin were strong, and supposedly had excess strength from the strange bond they shared with their Aes Sedai. He thought they could live, but would not worry about it now. Mouth quirking into a pleased grin, his chest swelled with the pride he felt for his sister. Such a shrewd mind, when she decided to employ it. Leaning over her shoulder, a quick glance showed him... Very nice! The note was scrawled in a quick script, as if rushed, but the signature was a dead-on when judged critically. He had faith in Rhonwyn's abilities though, and this was not the actual reason for him leaning so closely to her.

Passion.

Rhydin's world exploded in a myriad of pleasure and... and... He found himself unable to grasp for the title of such an emotion. Stronger than love, closer than kinship, his body was moving of its own accord. He hadn't realized exactly how quickly things had escalated before Rhonwyn was gasping for him to stop, holding the parchment up as a warding gesture, bringing him back to his senses. The young man seemed torn between the two tasks, but something she had said brought a smile to his features. Get someone to do it for us. Yes! That was the key! Plucking the parchment out of her grasp, Rhydin stole one last kiss, forcing himself not to linger. The fancloth cloak he draped across her lap, considering he had to be the Novice now, and not the hidee.

Darting out the doorway, the pliable soles of his boots slapped against the multicolored tiles as he rushed down the wide halls, seeking out a novice to deliver such a message. Servants would do know good, they felt they were higher than the folk in white, regardless of their inabilities to channel. It would only take one... There! A young girl, skirting along the corridor, obviously making her way to the Grand Hall; late, at that. "You there!" He cringed as his voice rang out clearly, but she stopped, glancing about curiously before stammering a hasty apology that was lost in his ears, while her cheeks became heavily suffused with blush. "This is really important," Rhydin began, allowing a note of pleading to creep into his tones.

"Umm... What is it?" the girl was asking, already making calf's eyes at him.

"A letter for the Amyrlin Seat!" he conveyed hurriedly, glancing about. "The Keeper of Chronicles instructed me to have another Novice take this letter to the Amyrlin, then report back immediately!" Oh, this had bloody better work. If the Keeper was still at the festivities... No! One pitfall would not endanger this plan. Just to seal the deal, though... "Also, to brew a strong pot of tea for the Amyrlin with this." Envelope procured from his belt pouch, a different herb in it than the one earlier; Crimsonthorn now, potent enough to kill. "It may delay you, but it is good tea..." Oh Light save him, he was doing the right thing, he really was! Anxiously, he watched the nameless Novice girl take both parchment and envelope, looking up curiously at him.

"What do I get if I help you?" Batting her eyelashes, her lips pursed into a grin of sorts. One that was ill-practiced at the game of the sexes. How he wanted to groan!

"Tsk, so greedy?" Rhydin murmured, playing along. It may take an extra minute or two, but if it would cause her to do these things properly, he could manage it. Just picture Rhonwyn's face... That wasn't going to work, this girl looked nothing like his sister! But, reluctantly, his hand rose, caressing the girl's cheek as she giggled and blushed all the harder. "You'll have my utmost gratitude..." he managed, without cringing, in a smooth voice. Felt the need to bathe, as well. "And, perhaps you and I can become better acquainted tonight, yes?" Leaning forward, Rhydin allowed his features to sway closer, and closer, the girl's eyes growing wider by the moment. Just as he were about to kiss her most intimately, she squeaked, managing a peck upon his lips before extracting herself.

"Well, umm, yes! Yes yes. Tonight!" Engaged with studying the note, though it allowed nothing to be said, her steps quickly shuffled away, casting back a few glances in what he could only assume that she believed to be coy. Turning, Rhydin rolled his eyes heavenward, and bolted back down the hallway.

The girl would go to the kitchens, prepare the tea, and more than likely take a few sips of her own, considering it would brew a strong pot. From there, the letter would be delivered, poison working throughout her system. The carrier may well die, but it was for a good cause. Or Rhydin told himself. Convincing his mind of such a thing along the way made time pass much more swiftly, while here he was a Novice running an errand. At least the weapons were hidden about his person carefully, moving with his form, and hardly obtrusive. But, thankfully, he encountered no one once he arrived at the doors of the Keeper's office, careful to slip in quietly and close the door. A quick glance about the interior showed...

"Rhonwyn?" he whispered loud enough, creeping further into the office. Where was she?! Panic fueled his quickened steps toward the Amyrlin's office, where the door cracked open just enough for a face to peek out. Shamed by his gasp, no matter how silent it was, his breathing eased upon seeing Rhonwyn's angelic features, framed well by the fancloth cloak.

"In here!" she hissed, to which he obediently followed. After all, he was still protecting his sister. Once the duo was safely ensconced within the office, and the door shut quietly, Rhonwyn perked a brow. "Did you manage to find someone?" But Rhydin didn't even bother answering her just yet.

His arms reached, wrapping tightly about his sister's waist, pulling her against his chest as his lips crushed against her own. Rhydin may have heard a muffled protest, unsure at this point, only knowing that he had to have his sister. Unlike their previous embraces, Rhonwyn seemed to have a practiced air about it now, as he felt himself groan softly against her mouth when her lips parted. Her scent, her taste! It was beyond divine, and his mind reeled at the events unfolding, becoming heady with any future prospects. He couldn't stop here, not now!

Swiftly, his large hands grazed down Rhonwyn's back, to cup her posterior. But it didn't end there. One swift scoop and she was up in his arms, trapped against his chest, feet dangling momentarily above the floor before instincts came about. To feel her hips wrapped so tightly about his waist... Rhydin shuddered involuntarily, pulling away from the kiss.

"A little novice... is delivering the message..." he managed breathlessly, though a trail of kisses was left by his lips along Rhonwyn's throat. Nearly every word punctuated by a kiss, and a step. "Along... with tea." Chancing a glance upward, Rhydin found himself laughing at the nearly blissful expression that warred with confused consternation upon his sister's features.

"Tea?" Just as breathless as he was, the man was pleased to find. His answer was delayed thought, once he began nipping at Rhonwyn's jaw line, then lips, only to be enveloped into another kiss. Light, do not let this end!

"Uh huh..." Minutes later, maybe hours, he didn't know, but he answered, just as the toe of his boot hit something solid. Finally! The thing he had been searching blindly for! "Crimsonthorn." The implication was never stated, but his sister was more than intelligent enough to understand what he meant. First, the novice, then the Amyrlin if they had any chance. If not... Well, that was why they were here, wasn't it?

Setting Rhonwyn down carefully upon the edge of the desk -- the desk! -- Rhydin's hands began to wander in their everlasting pursuit of reaching the pinnacle of completion with his own sister. He hadn't ever gone that far before, but these particular grounds were well known, though completely different because of who it was. Fingers plucked at the material which separated the pair, his mouth searching out an earlobe to nibble upon lightly. Light, it felt so right! How could someone even fathom such a wondrous thing like this as being wrong? It astounded the lad.

Rhydin managed the clasp upon the fancloth cloak easily, tossing it backward across the desk. His fingers lingered, delving into the collar of her bodice, straying along the delectable flesh hidden beneath the garment. One button undone allowed only a bit more freedom for his wandering touch; and mouth, which trailed away from Rhonwyn's plump lips, returning to her throat, and moving further downward. If he could only taste...

"I..." he gasped, bodies melding together once he searched out his sister's gaze. "Light, I've never wanted anything as badly as this, Rhonwyn." Now was hardly the time to become shy! Even so, his touch became the comfort of a lover's, instead of the lust-driven, maddened pawing it had been moments before. How could he even explain to her what she did to him? A slight wiggle of her hips indicated she had found something though, causing him to groan in a muted sense, for he had bitten his tongue.

Another breathless kiss... "Want to share everything with you." His speech was swiftly spiraling into a dumbened tongue, for she had his mind was in the midden heap once more. "All of it. But..." Fingertips ran through her hair, gently and lovingly, while he fought to find the words. "I don't know how!" A pitiful sob, for it was such a beautiful thing they had been sharing, and he had no desire to do Rhonwyn harm. The emotions warred within his glazed irises, hazed by the lust that was driving him mad. He nearly reached out to grasp the Source, if just to heighten his senses, indelibly imprinting this moment upon his mind. But a nagging voice held him back, knowing that they would be found too soon if he did such a foolish thing.

"Please?" His fingers strayed toward her lips, tracing them with a tip of one, before moving on to the rest of her features as if memorizing them simply by touch. There was time, he was certain of it! This emotion that Rhydin felt coursing through his veins, he simply had to share it with his sister. To take part in the loving embrace he so readily offered. That, and much more. His own heart and soul, for he had no desire to share those personal things with anyone else. He loved no one else as much, or in such a way, as he did Rhonwyn.

"Just..." another kiss punctuated his words, innocently beginning upon her cheek this time. "Let me show you? Be with you?" He had never sounded more desperate than now...

Rhonwyn
Ultimatums
Sat Dec 27 2003 8:35:56 pm

Rhonwyn shivered in her brother’s absence, gray eyes searching the room as if searching for an answer to her worries. The room, although ornate, was devoid of a response, empty of life and expression. Her shaking hands strayed upward to her bodice where one of the buttons had been undone by her brother’s eager fingers. Liar, her mind taunted. You can’t blame this on him. You want it just as much as he does. But what did she want? Well, she knew the rough answer—she yearned for physical completion. But surely that wasn’t all that she wanted.

Unfortunately, whatever else she might desire was unattainable. If it was romance she wanted, that she could obtain, she imagined—Rhydin simply wasn’t the type to be with just any girl that way. She might have doubts about his character occasionally—albeit very infrequently—but she had no qualms with his activities, or lack thereof, when it came to situations such as this. She knew he would be faithful to her if prompted; she seemed too much an amenity to him for him to spoil it all by thinking with the hair of his chest and various other portions of the male anatomy. However, how could she ever hope for more than a dalliance, a tryst? Rhonwyn had been raised in such a fashion that the concept of being with a man out of wedlock was enough to send her shuddering, and she could never marry her brother.

They could always elope to a place where they were unknown. The thought was becoming more and more appealing as time passed by. Their plans were rapidly going amiss; Rhonwyn worried that if they didn’t leave quickly they’d meet their deaths before the night was complete. Would she be able to convince her brother, though? He was certainly aware of the grave danger they were in, but would he be as quick as she to abandon the duty they’d been trained for their entire lives? Rhonwyn wasn’t even sure if she could shirk her duties so easily, let alone her family. Well, not the entire family, she thought with a quirk of the lips, fingers tracing the flushed skin above the edge of her bodice fondly, trying to mimic Rhydin’s motions.

She tilted her head to the side, listening for her brother’s tones. He was engaged with someone out in the hall, though she couldn’t rightly say whom. Rhonwyn pulled herself from the desk and slowly peeked her head out the door, careful not to disturb it and draw the girl’s attention with whom Rhydin spoke. He was lucky to have found someone so quickly, especially someone who appeared to be no more than a novice. It wouldn’t be too unrealistic for the girl to deliver a note to the Amyrlin instead of a servant; in fact, it was more likely that a novice would.

Rhonwyn didn’t like the way the girl was eyeing her brother, however. She narrowed her eyes as she watched the scene playing itself out, hands clenched to fists. Light, the harlot better stop, or… Light, what was Rhydin doing? The girl was batting her eyelashes, beckoning him forward, lips pursed as if to beg him for a kiss. And Rhydin wasn’t pulling away. He smiled in response to the novice’s, leaning forward as the girl did the same. His hand lifted to caress the skin of her cheeks, sending the girl shivering in delight. His face moved forward until Rhonwyn could’ve sworn that he was about to kiss her—he was about to kiss her, not the opposite!—and then the girl pulled away. The girl pulled away from him! But not until she’d placed a casual peck on his lips to seal whatever bargain they’d struck.

Rhydin rolled his eyes as he hurried back to the anteroom of the Amyrlin’s office, but Rhonwyn was skeptical that it was an honest expression of exasperation. Light, he had almost kissed the girl, just as he had been kissing Rhonwyn only moments before! Was she not enough for him? Light, how can I not be? she thought with embarrassment, all too clearly recalling the way she’d clung to him and moaned his name…and nothing had even happened.

She slipped back into the room before he saw her watching and searched for a hiding spot in which she could gather herself. She knew she was flushing with more anger than passion, now, and she would not face her brother such. He’d get no more from her until he proved himself, Rhonwyn vowed. Fuming, she went to the Keeper’s desk, grabbed the fancloth cloak her brother had filched earlier, opened the door to the Amyrlin’s office, and crept inside, sealing herself into the darkness with the door closed behind her.

She heard the door to the Keeper’s office open and her brother’s subsequent confusion as to her location. Rolling her eyes skyward, Rhonwyn flung the cloak over her shoulders and cracked the door, her blonde head peeking out a few moments thereafter. "In here," she hissed, her thoughts of frigidity and distance dissipated at her evident irritation. He followed her inside and shut the door behind him. Despite her oath to do anything but, her chest heaved in excitement at the sight of her brother’s trim, lithe figure, and she wanted nothing more than to run to his embrace. Instead, she inquired, "Did you manage to find someone?" She quirked a brow despite herself, wondering what her brother would say in response to that. Would he neglect to mention the deal he’d suggested with that novice? If he did, why, she would…

He ignored the question, approaching her in a few quick strides and taking her into his arms before she could object. She scowled and made as if to protest, but Rhydin quieted anything she might have said with his lips, and all thoughts of objection were wiped from her mind. She couldn’t resist his charms. Although their kisses had been brief at best, Rhonwyn had gained experience, and she knew some of what she was about, now. She stroked his tongue with her own, her mouth sucking at his lips and tongue until he groaned, forcing the two to separate. Her hands trailed everywhere on his body, her chest pressed firmly to his. Much to her dismay, she wanted him just as much as she wanted her, even if she was just a substitute for that bloody novice. Light burn her, but she would have him even if he didn’t particularly want her. His hands mimicked the motions of her own until he was cupping her behind, lifting her until she was pressed fully along his length. Uncertain what she was supposed to do, Rhonwyn allowed her legs to dangle prone for a few moments until she thought of a better occupation for them, wrapping them around his waist until his hips fit firmly against hers.

But Rhydin once more ended the kiss, though he made no move to let go of the rest of her. He told her what he’d done with the novice, though he conveniently left out the part about their kiss. He turned her head to trail wet kisses down her throat to its hollow, sending her gasping. They kissed once more, her brother breathlessly explaining himself and simultaneously searching for a place to set her. He placed her on another flat desk—she had only the clarity of mind to realize that it must have been the Amyrlin’s desk. He undid the clasp of the cloak she had thrown about her shoulders, his hands not ceasing there—no, he continued by fumbling at her bodice, his hands sinking beneath the fabric to clutch her skin. She half expected the touch to be painful, so fervent were his motions, but…oh, Light, they were anything but painful! She moaned and then bit her lip in a vague effort at quieting herself, but it did little good.

"Light, I’ve never wanted anything as badly as this, Rhonwyn," Rhydin gasped, his hands and mouth trailing down her chest, now bared due to his efforts. He became gentler, but Rhonwyn was bloody furious—how dare he say something like that to her when he had just kissed someone else? She pressed her hips against his ardently, her teeth clenched together and lips twisted in a silent snarl. He gasped all the more when she’d been wishing she could hurt him. Burn him, she cursed as he sealed his intentions with another kiss, his hands squeezing, pinching, and fondling, all of it driving her mad with impatience, and yet all of it so wonderful.

As quickly as it had begun, it seemed to stop. He continued caressing her, but there was more love to it than passion. Rhonwyn couldn’t deal with that—she could, however, deal with passion, as anger was easily hidden in its depths. She melted despite herself as he said, "Want to share everything with you… All of it. But…I don’t know how!" His fingers trailed through her hair, pulling it loose from the bun she’d assembled to complete her guise as a servant. "Please?" he whispered, his face contorted into a frown as he traced the lines of her face. "Let me show you… Be with you…" All of it had a questioning lilt to it that made Rhonwyn cringe with desire.

Much as she wanted to melt and take him into her right then, she couldn’t. She simply could not. She sighed, the exhalation transforming into a sob sometime in the middle. "No." Instead of the harsh intonation that Rhonwyn had intended the word to be, it came out as something else, what with the sob that tore it asunder. She collapsed against the desk, the cold surface shocking her bare flesh as she brought a trembling hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from his. Rhydin pulled away, frowning, mouth agape in shock and disappointment. "No; please don’t be upset, love," Rhonwyn continued, her voice gentler this time. "It’s just…how… How can I know that this isn’t just the same thing that you were going to do with that novice?"

She broke into tears. Ashamed of herself, she sat up once more, furiously wiping the wetness from her cheeks. It proved to be futile—as soon as her cheeks were dry, they were covered with more tears, until all trailed down her jaw line, hanging at the point of her chin, falling, staining the whites of her mussed skirts below. "You were just going to…do this with me, handle the Amyrlin, and go to that novice, weren’t you? Is that all I am to you?" She wrapped her arms around herself, her body wracked with sobs.

And then it stopped. She forced the tears and the sadness down with all the strength she could muster and turned to glare at her brother, anger replaced by sadness. "There’s nothing you can do to convince me that you want me any more than you’d want a common whore. Even so…" She glanced away, the tears returning once more. Rhonwyn stood and said, "I love you, Rhydin…" She was proud that her hands did not so much as tremble as she undid the buttons of her dress one by one until it fell to the floor below. She was wearing nothing beneath, given that she’d had to change quickly from a snug servant’s uniform into her novice whites. Her porcelain skin pebbled with the chill of the room as she continued, "You…you can have me. I can’t refuse you, and…I want you, too."

Rhydin
Decisions
Sun Dec 28 2003 12:27:25 am

"No."

Rhydin's eyes grew wide with shock at the implication of such a horrifying thought. Hadn't she wanted it as much as he?! What had he done to deserve the spurning of her affections? Disappointment did not even begin to describe the emotions running the gambit through the treacherous paths of his mind. In that moment, it felt as if his heart had been torn clear of his chest and tossed carelessly to the ground.

"No; please don’t be upset, love," Rhonwyn said, gently this time about. "It’s just…how… How can I know that this isn’t just the same thing that you were going to do with that novice?"

Novice? This was all about that bloody Novice?! Somewhere, he found the kindling within his soul to spark an inferno of rage; a conflagration coursing through his veins. How could she even believe that for one moment! Outrage painted his features clearly, silhouetted by the sparse moonlight cascading through window casements. But it proved to be too much, Rhonwyn's aching sobs reaching his ears as he spared a glance toward her, the brief hardened expression crumbling just as quickly.

"You were just going to…do this with me, handle the Amyrlin, and go to that novice, weren’t you? Is that all I am to you?" Rhydin watched her wrap her arms around herself, wishing it was him offering her comfort, instead. Every time his mouth opened to get in a word edgewise, either Rhonwyn's sobs cause him to fall short, or she began the tirade anew. Then...

It stopped.

Rhydin blinked, startled, forcing tears away from his eyes that he hadn't realized were present. Whenever his sister hurt, he had shared in her pain, and now was hardly any different. "There’s nothing you can do to convince me that you want me any more than you’d want a common whore. Even so..." Rhonwyn was saying, her voice tight with... sadness, he believed. Something nearly akin to anguish, causing him to hurt all the more. Watching her stand, he found his heart beating rapidly, chest taut as if bound by steel rings, unable to gain breath.

"I love you, Rhydin..." Oh Light, how he returned that love! His face pleaded with her, begging Rhonwyn to understand that what he did was not to spite her; it was all for the plan that had been set before them! He would do nearly whatever it took to make that theory become reality. Almost anything...

A strangled gasp managed to tear its way from his throat as Rhonwyn disrobed, standing there in all her glory, unconcerned with her nudity. Beautiful could not even begin to describe such a sight. Coherent thought seemed to fly right out the window, his jaw working to find the right words to say; words to say! "You... you can have me. I can’t refuse you, and... I want you, too."

"Light!!" It was the first thing he had managed to say beyond a strangled noise, and much to Rhydin's dismay, he continued to repeat himself. "Oh Light!" Focus, you dim-witted sheepherder! His mind shouted, and not in futility, for he began to regain a sense of composure and balance. Though it still looked as if his eyes were going to pop right out of his head, he wasn't shaking near as much as he had been just moments prior. Quickly, the gap between them closed as he stepped near, cupping her features once more with the same gentle touch, placing a soft kiss upon her lips.

"I love you, too..." Well, that was a decent start. If his brain could continue to work properly, he may even manage something akin to a semblance of intelligence shortly! Drawing a deep breath, Rhydin shook his head slightly. "You are not a whore, Rhonwyn. Do you understand me?" It seems that he had found his brain, for the sheer force behind those words was enough to cause his sister to blink in surprise. Carefully, he used the pads of his thumbs to wipe away what few tears remained upon her flawless cheeks. "I will not have you think such a thing of yourself, nor believe that I could do that either!"

Rhonwyn's lips parted in protest, her brow furrowing in the slight, but he forestalled her with a single finger pressed to those luscious lips. "I just don't want to take you, Rhonwyn. Light, I love you! I could never do such a thing!" Rhydin seemed absolutely appalled with the notion. Of course, his sister chose the most inopportune time to nip at the tip of his finger -- hard. "Ow!"

"Are you done talking yet?" Rhonwyn asked, slightly bemused all the same. "You don't understand, Rhydin. I saw you out there with her! How am I supposed to know these aren't just words?" Her smoky gaze challenged him to prove otherwise, as if knowing he could not. It was impossible... Wasn't it?

"Bond me." Rhydin met Rhonwyn's gaze levelly, obviously being serious about the matter. "You will know then that they are not just words, Rhonwyn. I will be yours." Finally, as he had ached to do for the last few moments, his arms wrapped about his sister lovingly, offering her a tender kiss as the embrace enveloped them both. "I love you..."

"You're... serious, aren't you?" Rhonwyn said slowly, pulling away to study her brother's face. Whatever she saw there must have brought forth a realization, for she gasped. "You are serious!" she gaped as Rhonwyn nodded affirmatively. Then, as if nothing were out of the ordinary, he fell to one knee, staring up toward his sister.

"I want to be yours, Rhonwyn." It was barely audible, hardly even a whisper as she brushed a few strands of light auburn hair away from his features, laying the hand upon his brow. The hairs along his neck and arms rose, follicles stiffening, and he could only assume that his sister had embraced the True Source. It had been one of the first things a male novice learned, considering what an advantage it gave them over female channelers.

"I saw an Aes Sedai do this after a few of my lessons..." Rhonwyn mumbled, obviously intent upon whatever she was constructing. "I had hidden behind a tree in one of the yards, where she bonded a Gaidin." Suddenly, Rhydin felt something settling onto him, much like a feather lightly brushing his skin, tickling his flesh. But it went further, falling deeper, into the depths of his soul.

"By the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth, I swear to serve you in whatever way you require for as long as you require, or may the Creator's face turn from me forever and darkness consume my soul..." Rhydin whispered as a ferverent prayer, somehow knowing no words were required, but it felt so right to say them! By the time he had finished his brief litany, it felt as if something grasped at him, pulling his body upwards. Then... Then it was felt. A floodgate opened in the back of his mind, the strong knot of emotions that he knew were not his own. "Oh, Light! Rhonwyn!" he gasped, clutching her shoulders as if she were a lifeline; which was closer to the truth than either of them would care to admit, normally.

Each realized what one another felt, sensed, drawing upon those emotions fiercely, returning them ten fold. Rhydin practically staggered beneath the onslaught, automatically seeking comfort in Rhonwyn. Fires raged, lust battling with the duty they were entrusted to uphold, and the plans they were destined to complete. But it could truly wait no longer.

Her flesh was so warm that it was startling to touch Rhonwyn with cooled hands, traversing slowly across her shoulders, then down her back, his lips devouring every portion of flesh that he could reach at current. Desire burned clearly in his mind, and he knew that it was just not his own; Rhonwyn's adding to the conflagration that they both shared. The sudden need to feel her flesh hot against his own escalated, so much that when his hands maneuvered to his buttons, he found his sister having already unfastened half of them!

Already, his hands roamed in a familiar way, having traversed her flesh just shortly before. Soft, supple... It was enough to drive a man mad with desire! Nor could this particular one take much more of what he felt to be teasings. Their forms melded together, pressed with need, he lifted her back onto the edge of the desk, feeling his white tunic slide down his shoulders by gravity's pull, and quickly shrugged the item away.

I could die happy right now...

Each sibling gave their own startled and amorous responses as the bare flesh of their chests finally came together, hips doing quite the same. The trousers though... If they weren't discarded soon, Rhydin was beginning to believe that they would split at the seams! Groaning softly, he pulled away long enough to begin a trail downward, tasting and exploring the sensitive regions of Rhonwyn's flesh that he only knew about, and finding several more along the way! While doing so, that awful tension caused by... erm... a muscle that finally decided to wake, was relieved somewhat as his trousers were unfastened and shucked off; small clothes and boots somehow managing to go with them.

His lips continued their roaming past, across breast and beneath, before trailing upward again. Intermittently, he managed to speak, awkwardness filtering through their newly shared bond. "I... I've never..." Gulp. But he saw Rhonwyn's smile -- more like a grin -- before pulling him closer, shushing speech with a fierce kiss. Instead, she placed Rhydin's hands accordingly; one lightly teasing the sensitive flesh of her breast, whilst the other gently stroked her inner thigh, moving upward minutely. It wasn't that she had control of the situation -- No, of course not! -- it was just that he did not want to hurt Rhonwyn. Or that was what he told himself.

Perhaps, just this once, he would allow his sister to take the lead...

Rhonwyn
Exponential Emotions
Sun Dec 28 2003 3:23:11 pm

Rhonwyn was beginning to regret removing her dress for a number of reasons. First of all, it was bloody cold—all fires in the Amyrlin’s office and its anteroom had long since been distinguished, leaving only the chill creeping from the thin windowpanes. The novice cast a thoughtful glance to one of the fireplaces but decided to forego the fire. There was no telling when the Amyrlin would arrive, and she couldn’t chance lighting a fire without indicating that they’d been awaiting her arrival for some time.

The second reason she regretted her nudity was her brother’s reaction. Part of her was proud that the luminescence of her bare skin had so impressed him; it meant a lot to her that he was pleased with her, inside and out. Rhonwyn wished that he had the clarity of mind to say something beyond "Oh, Light," though. She tilted her head away from him, ashamed that the tears only came all the more at the realization that she really was no more to him than a whore, if an impressive one. The sight of her flesh astounded him so much that he could ignore her pain, preferring to study every contour of the flesh of which he’d no doubt dreamed than to wipe away her tears…

Rhydin moved towards her, likely to take her right then and there. Rhonwyn tensed, attempting to summon the courage to spread her legs rather than keeping them shut tight against his embraces, but Rhydin’s attention seemed focused elsewhere. He kept his blue-eyed gaze trained to her features—Light, she probably looked nine kinds of fool! She was thankful that the dim lighting provided some camouflage; Rhonwyn knew she looked like the Dark One himself when she cried. She started to move her hands upward to wipe the ridiculous tears from her cheeks, but wonder of wonders, Rhydin seized the moment and did it for her. Confused, she listened to him say, "I love you, too," and wondered how her mind could be so cruel as to supply the one thing she wanted to hear so much at just the right time. "You are not a whore, Rhonwyn. Do you understand me? I will not have you think such a thing of yourself, nor believe that I could do that either!" Light, had him saying he loved her been her imagination, or had he really said it himself?

No, she couldn’t believe it. He might have said it, but it could just be a ploy to get her to relax around him so that he could get what he wanted. Light, what more could he want from her? She had already offered herself to him, but Rhydin persisted in twisting her love to his advantage! How could he do this to her? She bit his finger when he presented it to her, hard, a petty form of vengeance. Why couldn’t he just take her and be done with it? "Are you done talking yet?" she queried, her voice tinged with sadness. "You don’t understand, Rhydin. I saw you out there with her. How am I supposed to know those aren’t just words?" She stared him straight in the eye, confident that he’d have no solution. He’d have to take responsibility for his actions; she wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise.

"Bond me." The words seemed summoned from another world, so strange were they coming from Rhydin’s lips. Rhonwyn’s eyes widened; she was certain he couldn’t be serious. He stared her down as firmly as she did him, though. "You will know then that these are not just words, Rhonwyn. I will be yours. I love you."

He pulled a very shocked and very naked Rhonwyn to his firm chest, cradling her in his warmth. She picked at the fabric of his novice tunic, unsure of what she was to do. He sounded serious. Should she trust him? What if he was trying to take the glory of killing the Amyrlin all for himself, and was just waiting for her to give him the opportunity to channel large amounts of saidin to kill her? She pulled away to peer into Rhydin’s face, her response coming slowly. "You’re…you are serious, aren’t you?" His blue eyes gazed into hers with certainty, his face with a slightly pinched look that hinted at the strain he was undergoing. "You are serious!" He was! Light, what had she done to deserve this?

Rhydin fell to one knee, bringing his warmth along with him. Rhonwyn bit her lip and made as if to pull him back up to her; she wanted him as close to her as possible, partly because she desired the intimacy and partly because she wanted his warmth. "I want to be yours, Rhonwyn," he said in clarification. She blushed, realizing that he was kneeling in preparation for her to bond him.

She paused, uncertain what to do. She’d seen it done before from a distance and memorized the weave just in case, but it wasn’t as if she’d practiced it enough to reliably use it. What if she formed the weave and did something far different than what she’d expected it to? The bonding weave was very intricate; it required a full Aes Sedai’s intricacy and attention to detail. Rhonwyn steeled herself against the urge to ask him to bond her instead so that she would not be afforded humiliation should she fail; he wanted her to do this, and she would, Light help her. She embraced saidar with that thought, reaching out to Spirit and drawing on it heavily. She explained as she worked when she had seen this done, both to reassure herself and her sibling. Rhonwyn wanted to let him know that she wasn’t completely inexperienced. She also wanted the distraction speaking lent her—she couldn’t afford to be distracted altogether, but this way she wasn’t concentrating on her channeling so much that she made herself nervous.

"By the Light and my hope of salvation and rebirth," Rhydin began, "I swear to serve you in whatever way you require for as long as you require, or may the Creator’s face turn from me forever and darkness consume my soul." The oath was so heartfelt and so bloody like an…oath! Her brother’s fervency so impressed Rhonwyn that she nearly damaged the weave beyond repair. Were oaths like that really necessary between an Aes Sedai and her Warder? Light, Rhonwyn had no idea what she was getting into, beyond what Aes Sedai had told her in lessons!

And then it was done. She examined the weave for errors and, finding nothing, sent a prayer to the Creator before tying off the weave around Rhydin’s brain. Both gasped simultaneously—for both it was as if another person had taken up residence in their head, as if they had two bodies and two minds somehow joined to one. They did, really—she could feel Rhydin’s every sensation if she tried, his every emotion. He did love her!

Part of Rhonwyn had been insisting that this couldn’t be real, that they would come to their senses before they consummated their love right there in the Amyrlin’s office. But the consummation came from elsewhere. The bond was all they needed; it joined them together far more intimately than sex could. Even so, it seemed only right to join their bodies as well as their minds until they were one person in every manner of the word. Sense and practicality deserted them as their skin touched, Rhydin’s hands slowly grazing Rhonwyn’s bare figure. He could feel the sensations his fingers caused just as well as she could feel the soft journey his digits trailed across her skin, and it sent both of them reeling.

Their desire amalgamated and expounded upon each other until Rhonwyn was straining to remove his clothing, straining to feel his bare skin against her own, straining to add to the sensations of pleasure already coursing through her body. Their chests came together as Rhydin’s tunic slid over his shoulders to the floor below; it was wonderful, but his trousers still separated them. Gasping, Rhydin pulled away to get rid of them, letting them sink to the floor as his tunic had just moments—an eternity—ago.

Between kisses, her brother gasped, "I…I’ve never…" Stumbling, he didn’t complete the sentence; whether because it was difficult to formulate coherent thoughts or because he was ashamed to admit it. However, Rhonwyn was pleased—both were inexperienced. She wouldn’t be expected to surpass whatever females Rhydin might have been with in the past; nor was she expected to give him the most fantastic sexual experience of his youth when she’d never done anything of the like before. She guided his hands accordingly, though she knew little as it was of what would give her pleasure. She had liked his hands at her breasts, so she placed one there, and instinct guided her hand to guide his to her inner thigh, urging him to stroke gently upwards until…

Rhonwyn moaned and arched her back, surprising both herself and her brother in the process. She hadn’t expected it to feel so…! She certainly hadn’t expected it to elicit that much of a reaction, either! Neither had her brother, apparently. Rhydin’s eyes had widened; he began to remove his finger, thinking he’d hurt her. "No!" Rhonwyn gasped, pressing her hips towards him urgently. "Don’t…don’t stop…" She blushed until she was red as the sky at sunset, but her brother grinned somewhat bashfully, continuing his motions until it was all Rhonwyn could do not to alert the entire White Tower of their exact location.

She hesitated, wondering how she could phrase that she wanted him immediately. The novice opened her mouth to tell him so, but Rhydin had already removed his fingers, bending to kiss her fiercely until it faded to lovingness, his lips caressing hers and his hands trailing up and down her thin waist. He cupped her bottom and lifted her to aid in gaining access. Nervous, she tensed despite herself, causing Rhydin to caress her gently until she was ready once more.

There was a few seconds pain that blinded her beyond recall, but the sensation quickly passed, pleasure replacing the pain until it was difficult to remember what had hurt her so much in the first place. Rhonwyn lost all sensation; she could feel only pleasure, exponential pleasure due to the bond that she and her brother now shared. She twined her legs loosely about his hips as his hands stroked back and forth across her body, occasionally finding purchase at her hips. She remained prone for the first few minutes, uncertain what she was supposed to do beyond enjoy the experience, but she found herself rising to meet him, lifting herself to wrap her arms around him and litter him with wet kisses when the chance presented itself.

"Elienna?" a lilting voice queried in the empty room beyond. Both Rhydin and Rhonwyn’s eyes widened; neither knew the voice, but only one person had high enough authority to refer to the Keeper of the Chronicles in such a casual air.

Rhydin muttered various curses, beginning to pull away, but Rhonwyn pulled him back to her, hissing, "Don’t you dare stop!" She pulled him to her and once he continued with one thrust, both were swept away in the current of their pleasure, completely oblivious to the Aes Sedai in the next room. The novice whispered "don’t stop" repetitively into her brother’s mouth and neck until the words melted into one another just as their bodies were doing, until they became incoherent moans as Rhonwyn approached something she didn’t even know she was striving for.

And then it happened… Her back arched and her body tensed, undergoing convulsion after convulsion; it took all the effort she could muster to keep from screaming aloud. At the sensations drifting into his mind from his sister’s, Rhydin tensed and filled Rhonwyn with something she certainly hadn’t been expecting, gasping into her ear and pulling her as close to him as he could manage. They were complete.

The Watcher of the Seals, Flame of Tar Valon, the Amyrlin Seat—she chose that moment to crack the door to her office open, sending a sliver of light to illuminate a pair of flushed faces, skin glowing with a sheen of sweat, arms wrapped about each other, and the female of whom with her legs twined about the male with no other purpose than to lodge her companion firmly inside her. Right on the Amyrlin Seat’s own desk.

Rhydin
Emotions Running Rampant
Tue Dec 30 2003 12:09:17 am

Rhydin's eyes continued to widen in surprise, his hands having been very busy in the last few moments. Lips kissed and nipped, hands caressed and pinched lightly, all in the right spots judging by Rhonwyn's rather vocal responses. Instinct had guided him this far, but the loud moan and stiffed form worried him momentarily; never mind the bond that they shared now, it still seemed excruciating to him. Drawing away ever so slightly, he was shocked even more by Rhonwyn's protests not to stop! Then it dawned upon him what those emotions he felt cascading through the bond were. A sheepish grin showed as much, before he returned to the insane pleasure; focusing, concentrating...

But he had something else in mind. Withdrawing his hand from betwixt Rhonwyn's parted thighs, their damp bodies melded together once more, allowing him to caress her form tenderly, worshipping the flesh that such a divine woman had been housed within. He could not get enough of her! Perhaps there was a way to satiate their desires, though...

Cupping Rhonwyn's pert posterior, he lifted her only as far as was needed, but felt his sister tense at the last moment. There, he slowed, reassuring her with the gentle ministrations of his hands once more, a loving kiss to seal the deal, so to speak. He knew there would be pain for her, his father had seen to his son's education upon that behalf. More like appointing a servant to explain the birds and the bees to his son, then quiz him afterwards. But never -- never!! -- had he believed he would encounter such warmth! A velvet caress that drove him mad with desire, though he had to be careful... Involuntarily, Rhydin winced once Rhonwyn's pain was felt through the ever strengthening bond, waiting... Just waiting.

Oh Light! His mind screamed, his body ached, his soul absolutely thirsted for this. How many times had he lain awake, dreaming of such a thing, though hardly in such graphic detail, concerning his sister? It was enough to make a man weep for joy, and cry out to the Creator for mercy. Ever so slowly, Rhonwyn seemed to relax, awash in bliss, losing herself in the sensations that he was giving in to. Every moment was a new experience in aching pleasure, so painful that his heart ached. So near to completion, so close!

"Elienna?"

Rhydin's breath caught, eyes snapping open to meet Rhonwyn's gaze. Oh no, not now! Not yet! It was too early! Damn the woman for being so bloody punctual! "Blood and bloody ashes!" he swore beneath his breath, the previously smooth physicality of the situation diminishing as he began to pull away. But apparently his sister wasn't going to allow this one bit.

"Don’t you dare stop!" Rhonwyn hissed hotly against his ear, sending a shiver coursing through his flesh as his body bucked. With his sister's hips moving so insistently, he didn't believe he could stop now, even if the Amyrlin walked right through the bloody doors this very second! The pace shifted, becoming a frantic rise toward the pinnacle that he sought and fought for valiantly, if in a rather unorthodox fashion. Lips pressed hard against Rhonwyn's to muffle her cries, or perhaps his own. He wasn't all too sure at this point, for a blinding white fire seared his mind, penetrated his soul at that precise moment.

Seconds later, Rhydin found himself diving from that pinnacle into a fiery abyss, feeling as if he were going to simply fade away from such pleasure. Their pair's hips met one last time, each drawing in ragged breaths through sore and dry throats. Almost with an absent air, his hands coursed across Rhonwyn's perspiration dampened flesh, memorizing each curve, every nuance; her reactions, especially the pleasure induced ones, was what he sought. Right up until the door cracked open.

The sliver of light, which illuminated their forms, barely caught his attention. Almost lazily, his bright gaze shifted, taking in the sight of one of the strongest and most influential women in the world staring at them as if they had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Oh Light, he simply wanted to laugh! Even so, humor bubbled amongst a startling myriad of emotions; ranging from exhaustion to arousal, the spectrum was covered in one manner or another. Unfortunately, Rhydin had to bite back a 'witty' comment, one that would have gotten him penance for months under normal circumstances. This wasn't all too normal, though.

The woman's eyes blazed anger, her features set in impenetrable stone as the door was closed behind her entrance. As if of their own volition, the wide hearth and accompanied candles sprang to life, leaving the room awash in a bright glow. Rhydin's gaze narrowed against the sudden light, gingerly moving away from his sister, and careful to keep his own naked form covered as well. How awkward was this?! Especially considering how each were covered in various fluids, a none too pretty sight when being stared down by one of the most powerful women... Shudder.

"I should run both of your hides down the halls for this!" the Amyrlin fumed, gesturing slightly with an upturned hand toward their discarded garments. "Get dressed. Now." It wasn't as if the woman were shouting; hardly. Instead, her voice was calm, and as cold as ice. Looks like she didn't get the tea... Rhydin mused silently to himself, plucking up Rhonwyn's garment from the cool floor and handing it to her, before retrieving his own. But, there was a slight problem...

He had been armed when coming here, and those weapons laid scattered near his boots. A few were still secure in his clothing, but some hadn't survived their tenuous holds within his garments during their frenzied state of undress. Small clothes and trousers were donned, crouching down long enough to tuck in the few blades that had worked their way free into his tunic, now rolled up. Sure, he was shirtless, but at least the knives in his boots were safely there. Already, the Amyrlin Seat was beginning a quiet tirade.

"I want your names, Novices. Immediately." Each supplied the name that was written into the Novices books. Here, Rhydin was Novice Daevon, while Rhonwyn went under the guise of Novice Myrlin. Quietly tugging on his boots, he did the best to whither beneath the gaze of... of... Bloody witch! Anger flowed freely across the bond, and he knew part of Rhonwyn had to feel the same way.

"What were you two even thinking, coming here to complete such an act that is forbidden amongst Novices?" The Amyrlin began a slow stalk toward the pair, staring them down. "This is absolutely unforgivable. You have both been here long enough to have learned the rules, and know to obey them." Nary an emotion escaped across those coolly collected and calculating features. Rhydin felt stripped bare, weighed, measured, and put up for market by that bloody gaze! Then she glanced toward Rhonwyn, studying the desk through narrowed eyes as if seeing something for the first time.

Oh Light, the flaming cloak! Rhydin's throat constricted with anxiety, and he shifted his bundled tunic, hoping to hide its contents better. Belatedly, Rhydin realized what a mistake this truly was, for it brought the Amyrlin's scrutinizing attentions upon himself, now. And the glinting metal handle peeking out from the crumpled garment. He had been too dumbfounded to speak prior to this, and now definitely was not the time to voice his opinions. But he could aid himself slightly here, without either female knowing. At least, he hoped it was so.

Reaching out, Rhydin seized saidin, welcoming that treacherous fight for life that heightened his senses. It was folly to even think of doing such a thing, but he had actually gone and done it! There was no sensation of gooseflesh along his arms, or the nape of his neck, so he was pretty certain neither woman was holding saidar. Besides, if Rhonwyn even embraced the True Source right now, the Amyrlin would call her down so quickly for it...

"What have we here?" the woman that had gone beyond mere Aes Sedai was asking, reaching out to take Rhydin's bundled tunic away from him. The one that was carrying his weapons. Breath hitched, he shied away only slightly, yet again another mistake. The Amyrlin Seat's eyes blazed in fury at not being obeyed. Rhydin's urgency multiplied ten fold, magnified by the bond, reflecting Rhonwyn's own. If they were to get away with their skins intact... He began forming the weave, thankful the women were absolutely oblivious at this moment. It was small compensation for what was going to occur, though.

"Now!" he shouted, snatching Rhonwyn's arm as a wall of Air -- his strongest element, oddly enough -- shoved the Amyrlin away from them continuously. He knew he couldn't harm the woman, not with channeling. She had experience, and more power; regardless, he threw a strong netting of Spirit toward her, as if he could actually shield the Amyrlin Seat. Hah! But Rhonwyn was already following his lead. Whether she had embraced the Source or not, he couldn't tell. Almost certain that the Amyrlin had, the pair ran out the door -- quite literally. "Come on!" Rhydin urged his sister, turning out the door of the Keeper's office to run down the hall.

Out, they needed out! Immediately! As best he could, his weapons were slipped into their various hiding spots in his trousers. The ones that would be hidden in his tunic were palmed while he struggled to don the garment. Two Novices running never meant anything good, but one that was shirtless? Oh, that would cause quite a stir!

"This way!" Rhonwyn suddenly said, screeching to a halt beside an ornate tapestry that hung from the wall. Dusty and old, it was in dire need of cleaning and repair; the scene one that Rhydin did not recognize. Quickly, the heavy wall hanging was pushed aside, revealing a servants' staircase. One that may very well lead out of the Tower proper, or at least into the stables. Careful once they entered the dim spiral staircase, he gingerly replaced the wall hanging so it would not swing. It may have taken a few extra seconds, but someone could pass right by without noticing their exit.

Booted feet thudded down the staircase, his meager cash of weapons finally stored about his form, and the tunic re-buttoned. It seemed that the staircase spiraled forever downward, into the Pit of Doom. Who knew, maybe this Tower was the Pit! It certainly felt like it at times.

Reaching the bottom, there was no door, leaving Rhonwyn to peer very carefully about the corner. The scent of hay and horses tickled Rhydin's senses, inwardly smiling in relief. "Be careful..." he quietly cautioned his sister, watching her nod before ghosting away. Soon after, he followed.

The streets of Tar Valon were desolate, deprived of life, with the exception of when one passed a tavern or inn. It was easy to assume that most of the city's occupants had gone to the Tower for the festivities, but Rhydin doubted that. They seemed more inclined to hide at the local inns with those much like themselves; common people. How long had they been running now? He wasn't sure, but the breath in his lungs burned like fire, and he could feel Rhonwyn tiring as well. They had to get out of the city, away from the White Tower, no matter what the cost!

"No... No more," Rhonwyn gasped, stumbling with her brother into a nook of an alleyway beside a tavern, pausing to catch breath. He was infinitely glad for this, considering it felt as if he were going to fall upon his face any time now. Leaning heavily against a dirty brick wall, Rhydin wiped perspiration from his brow with a shaking hand, nervously glancing about.

"We have to keep going, Rhonwyn!" he mumbled, but only half-heartedly, considering he was just as exhausted. By then, a flutter of material was seen down the way, his eyes narrowing to study it. Saidin had been lost to him in the rush, and he was loathe to seize the Source once more for fear of any male channelers nearby. Instead, he crouched down against the wall, protecting Rhonwyn as well. "Someone's coming..." he whispered against the shell of her ear. For once, all thoughts of intimacy -- all right, almost all thoughts -- were driven from his mind.

Thud-thud-thud.

The steps passed by, and he nearly exhaled in relief of not being caught, when the breath caught in his throat. Rhonwyn clutched to his chest, he was barely able to observe someone walking back toward them. To the mouth of the alleyway where they were hidden. Oh no...

They'd been found.

Rhonwyn
Just When I Thought I'd Reached the Bottom...
Tue Dec 30 2003 10:00:06 pm

Rhonwyn had heard people speak of the adventures through which they’d lived. She hadn’t had much exposure to people like gleemen, considering her noble birth, but she’d attended court often enough to be familiar with court bards and their tales. She was a smart enough girl to recognize that they were just tales; they might have found basis in history, but largely, they were the creations of an imaginative mind. For some reason, their current situation reminded her of a gleeman’s tale—rather, it highlighted all the errors that typically characterized an adventure.

If this was an adventure, Rhonwyn wanted no part of it. She nearly jumped out of her skin at Rhydin’s firm grip at her arm, steering her to the door as chaos ensued. Her brother grabbed as many of his belongings as he could; it was difficult, considering he hadn’t dressed completely and neither had she. Rhonwyn aided as much as she could by snatching the fancloth cloak and an abandoned short sword she noticed on the floor. Rising, the novice got a glimpse of the infuriated Amyrlin before she noticed the glow of saidar surrounding the woman; well aware of an Aes Sedai’s first action when facing a weaker female channeler, Rhonwyn embraced the One Power less than a second afterward. Something—she could only assume it was her brother’s intervention—pushed the Amyrlin Seat herself against the wall of her own office, knocking the air from her lungs and distracting her enough to lend Rhonwyn the time she needed. She spared a moment to glare at her brother, willing him to let go of her arm so that she might have the time to shield the Amyrlin, but they were out of the room much too quickly. She had enough time to send a hastily woven net of Spirit in the Amyrlin’s direction before dashing out the door and down the corridor.

There was nothing fantastic or daring about the escape. While some might have expected music to spice up their departure, Rhonwyn could hear little beyond the gasping of her breath, rapid beating of her heart, and their own loud footfalls echoing up and down the hallway. She came to a screeching halt, nails inadvertently pulling her brother to a stop beside her. "Here," she hissed, pulling aside a brocaded curtain to reveal a servant’s stairway. Apparently her brief foray as a maid had come in handy, though she’d never admit that being a servant for an evening had helped her in any way.

Rhonwyn swung the short sword at the dimness of the hallway as if to ward intruders away, but naturally, it did little good—fortunately, the hallway was already empty. The servants were occupied elsewhere, what with the Festival being held on the White Tower’s common rather than inside the building itself. Throughout the descent, Rhonwyn glanced at her brother, searching for signs of panic, though it, too, proved to be futile. He was just as nervous as she was. No matter how hard he might try to put up a confident facade, Rhonwyn had the bond to tell her how he truly felt. His heart was beating as rapidly as hers; she could feel his panic increasing her own as the staircase continued ever downward.

Finally they reached the door at the bottom. She was glad that she’d chosen this staircase; it didn’t lead them through the kitchen, but instead to the stables. Rhydin offered a soft admonition of caution, and with that Rhonwyn peered her head carefully around the corner. The stables, at least, were empty. She glimpsed a looming figure standing at the wide doorway, looking forlornly in the direction of the music and lights. The novice stretched a hand backward to her love and brother, pulling him to her quickly. Rhonwyn crept across the wide expanse of the White Tower’s main stables, her breath screaming in her ears. Her eyes remained locked to the figure at the doorway, willing him to remain still, or better yet, willing him to succumb to the temptation to join the revelry beneath his nose.

He turned. Light, he turned! Rhonwyn pulled her brother to her as quickly as she could, lifting a leg to hook it at his hip, pulling him backward into a conveniently placed pile of hay. Rhydin tensed and paused for a moment before realizing what she was about; he returned her ministrations with as much fervor as he could muster, given the situation, their mouths and hips clamping together with sincerity nonetheless. Weapons were abandoned, at least momentarily, into the hay that served as their bed.

Light, they probably looked a sight, but at least they didn’t look like would-be assassins. The hostler paused before inquiring indignantly, "What’re you novices doing? You know you’re not supposed to be doing that, and not ‘ere! Get out!" He kicked the hay upon which they were lying and gestured to a door at the back. "Find some privacy elsewhere, you dirty little…"

She heard no more. Her brother’s warmth and proximity distracted parts of her, but the rest of her was focused on the door the hostler had suggested. He had already turned away, mumbling to himself, threatening under his breath to send for the Mistress of Novices if they didn’t remove themselves quickly. Rhonwyn quickly wrapped her sword in the Warder’s cloak and stumbled to the door, relishing the frigidity of the air—it was freedom. Almost.

They switched positions, Rhydin guiding and Rhonwyn following in his wake, hand still entwined with his. Rhydin was more a prankster than she; while Rhonwyn had been pursuing methods of fulfilling their duty, Rhydin had been less than dutiful, seeking ways to thwart the Aes Sedai. One of these methods, Rhonwyn found, was in searching for exits through which he could find some fun in the town, as opposed to being holed up in the White Tower. He led her quickly through the gardens, pausing now and again for giggling couples to pass them before continuing at an even faster pace. He directed her through a door in the midst of ivy on one of the garden’s walls, a door Rhonwyn would not have even noticed had it not been for her sibling’s guidance. With little more than the noise required to push the shrubbery aside, the door opened, and they were through. The White Tower’s shadow had never seemed more forbidding.

They were out of the White Tower, but where had they to go then? Tar Valon was a sizeable city, but Rhonwyn suspected they would scour it clean by noon the following day in search of those that had escaped the Amyrlin the night previous. She also knew that a number of deaths had probably resulted from their failed attempts at poisoning the Amyrlin in their party. It would not take long before someone mentioned that they had seen an unfamiliar servant girl appear during the festivities with tea. The Keeper would declare that she had sent no such letter as the one that had summoned the Amyrlin to her office. The novice Rhydin had antagonized would be questioned, and she would give a viable description. Their names—rather, their aliases—would be reported missing. It would be too much of a coincidence for two novices, one male and one female, both fitting the descriptions of the mysterious serving girl and the man whom the novice had conversed with, to go missing and not be labeled as the ones that had killed a number of Gaidin and who knew whom else, infiltrated the Amyrlin’s office, forged a note in the Keeper’s name, used the Amyrlin’s desk for Light-only-knew-what… And one question still remained: Why had they summoned the Amyrlin in the first place? What innocent reason could two novices who had already done so much have?

If they lived through the night, Rhonwyn would be surprised. Light, she would be everything, considering the alternative was death or worse.

The reality of their situation was becoming all the more palpable. The White Tower had yet to ring an alarm, which lent them some time. Perhaps they had truly injured the Amyrlin. The thought gave Rhonwyn cheer, but little of it—if they failed to find some clothing they could change into and make it to the gates before the White Tower went into alarm, they would be dead or stilled by morning. She urged her feet forward despite the protestations of mind and lungs, but soon enough she collapsed against the wall of an alleyway, unable to continue. "No… No more," she gasped, struggling to spit the words. They made her lungs feel like they were on fire.

"We have to keep going, Rhonwyn," he mumbled, but his tone was as hopeless as her own. They had failed. "Someone’s coming," he whispered, pulling his sister firmly against him to shield him from view. She clung to his warmth, certain that their doom was fast approaching. They had been caught at last.

Something stopped in front of the tavern. The steps seemed to recede, as if they were going inside the common room, but at the last moment they turned, a dark head peering into the alleyway that had failed as their haven. "D’Atoinay?" the voice queried softly. It sounded like a prayer, or in Rhonwyn and Rhydin’s case, a prayer answered. She felt the vague sensation of the wall pulling her skirts up as it rose behind her—or perhaps it was that Rhonwyn was so shocked at her parents’ rescue that she fainted dead away.

Her eyes were curtains of lead, as unresponsive as if she were dead. Rhonwyn cursed to herself and at the voice disturbing her rest; she wanted nothing more than to remain in bed—if that was truly where she was. Both the mattress and pillows were of down, cushioning her body as no novice’s cot could. However, the voice persisted, whispering her name insistently. Cold hands made content with her warm skin, shaking her from her sleepy reverie.

Groaning in desperate irritation, one gray eye emerged from beneath heavily lashed eyelids. Wakeful, she slid her arms above her head, the silky texture of her skin meeting with that of the sheets beneath her. Astounded at the sights afforded her by the one eye, she opened the other, sitting up and rubbing her eyes in amazement. Rhydin was perched on the bed next to her, an amused smile gracing his features as he watched her slow progression to consciousness. He took one of her hands in his as the other wiped her eyes free of the remnants of sleep or something close to it, stroking it with his callused fingers, eyes locked to hers.

"Where are we?" she finally whispered, afraid to break the silence of the room around her. She could not recall ever being here before, and it was a far stretch from the White Tower. They had not been captured, apparently, but Rhonwyn could discern little else beyond that. She was in a four-poster bed, much like the one she had left at home. The sheets were silk, as her mind had suggested earlier, and the blankets adorning it impeccable of embroidery and texture. She stroked the fabric appreciatively, wondering why the Creator chose to bless her as such now and not earlier. The room itself was ornately decorated but tastefully so; it was nothing in comparison to her family’s manor in Amadicia, but she would have reviewed it finer than a palace given her long tenure in the White bloody Tower.

"It’s…" Rhydin paused, looking anywhere but at his sister. Surely this was far better than any alternative, whatever it was! Why was he so hesitant? The bond spoke of undercurrents of fear, which did not fit their current situation at all. "A household. Off the island and in the country. It’s…our parents’." Rhonwyn’s eyes widened—so this was the source of her brother’s discontent! "They came to Tar Valon just a few days ago, but they’ve apparently had this…house…all along. They’ve been watching us, Rhonwyn."

Dieran and Amidea of the Amadician House d’Atoinay had never shirked their duties as parents. They had never treated either of their two children cruelly, but they had been anything but loving. From the day she was born, Rhonwyn had had to endure the constant knowledge that she was not like other children. Her parents waited anxiously for the day when she would mature into her ability to channel, just as they had with Rhydin. Both children knew that they were destined for more, as their parents often reminded them—they were to bring about the destruction of the White Tower.

The desire had been logical enough, given their country of origin. Both Dieran and Amidea were fanatic about their desire to see the end of all Aes Sedai, but they forced the duty upon their children instead of doing it themselves. Though Rhonwyn was as patriotic an Amadician as the next, she could not comprehend her parents’ ridiculous determination. It was equally beyond her that they could care so much for something but relegate the duty to someone else—and of all people, their very own children.

"Are they…angry?" she finished, forehead creased in a frown. The novice—past novice?—bit her lip and waited for her brother’s response. She suspected she knew the answer, but she hoped more than anything that she was wrong.

Again Rhydin hesitated. "I don’t know," he finally said. "I haven’t seen them yet. They sent one of the servants to fetch us in a carriage and spirited it us in here. The place looks like a bloody farmhouse, so we’re probably safe." His tone suggested anything but.

They descended into thoughtful silence, each wondering if they had fallen into more trouble than they would have had if they had been caught by the White Tower. Rhonwyn twirled a blonde curl pensively, wondering how the upcoming meeting would go. Surely their parents would summon them soon—they could not be so cruel as to keep them waiting as if they were wily children to be punished. But then…weren’t they? Rhydin reclined into the bed, spreading his arms beckoningly. Rhonwyn descended into his embrace willingly, nuzzling her head against his neck and chest.

A knock interrupted their peace, rendering it only momentary. A servant entered—none Rhonwyn recognized—and declared, "Lord Dieran and Lady Amidea will see you now."

Rhydin was nervous. Rhonwyn hadn't woken for some time now, and it worried him. If the bond had not been there to tell him that she simply fainted, the young man would have been in a panic. A servant of the House D'Atoinay had followed them, none too easily, out into the streets of Tar Valon. The pair had been swept into a nondescript carriage, bearing no emblem, and whisked off into the countryside. Occasionally, he had peeked out from between the parted window curtains, observing the land roll by slowly.

The 'house' -- if it could even be called that -- which they had been taken to looked so bloody ramshackle upon the outside he wondered how many nails were missing from the construct. Within, it was warm and cozy. Nothing so grand as the manor home in which he had spent his childhood, but comfortable nonetheless.

He had attempted to sleep, at least for a short while, and found far too many difficulties in doing so. Even the servants had thought him odd for carrying Rhonwyn himself! Bah! Bloody peasants... were his half-hearted thoughts, attempting to reconcile himself with the fact that they had failed. Fail was not a word present in D'Atoinay vocabulary. If their parents did not already know, they would soon enough. Inwardly, Rhydin cringed at the 'discussion' which would take place. Rarely was there ever a shouted word in the household, but calm words could scathe just as much, if not worse, than heated screams.

Amongst the plush pillows, silk sheets, and warm comforters, he waited for a sign of wakening from his sister. It was just as he began to doze, for the umpteenth time, that he could not longer take it. Seated upon the edge of the bed beside her own, absent fingers caressed her arm and shoulder, simply longing for the touch of a familiar person. It was most tempting to have curled up beside her and rested, but he had the nagging sensation that he simply had to keep her safe; no matter what. Light, what are we going to do?

Flicker...

Rhydin paused in his musing, peering toward Rhonwyn for a moment. She seemed to be coming about, finally! Smiling in slight amusement, he watched her progression toward wakefulness with a patient air he had long ago adopted. The bond told much of the same thing, but Rhonwyn knew her brother well enough to discern most things without that... odd connection. Snatching up one of her hands, he had to cringe when that particular question was put to him.

"It's..." How could he even put it delicately? That was the problem, he no longer could! Decidedly uncomfortable with the bond for a brief moment, he drew a deep breath, and told her. "A household. Off the island and in the country. It’s…our parents’." Ignoring her surprise, Rhydin pressed on as if believing that he would be cut short. "They came to Tar Valon just a few days ago, but they’ve apparently had this…house…all along. They’ve been watching us, Rhonwyn." Only careful questioning of a servant had revealed that much; and it was likely that the employee had gone scurrying off to his parents once the question and answer session was completed. It had been a risk, but a calculated one. Let their parents think them frightened and alone.

Were they angry? Hah! Probably, he mused silently to himself, but openly they were never angry. Disappointment was one of the things he feared most, coming from his parents. It wasn't that they had provided for their children, even if they hadn't been the most doting parents about. "I don't know," he eventually said. "I haven't seen them yet. They sent one of the servants to fetch us in a carriage and spirited it, with us, in here. The place looks like a bloody farmhouse, so we're probably safe." He couldn't help but put the best face upon matters at hand, considering Rhonwyn's pensive silence. Whenever she twirled a blonde curl, it meant she was worried. Very much so.

Leaning back, he spread his arms wide, with a slight smile. Once they were snuggled together upon the bed that had served as his resting place for the night, he felt contented; if only slightly. Inhaling her sweet scent, fingers brushed through Rhonwyn's golden curls, warmed by her presence. If only a bloody servant hadn't knocked at the blasted door! Tensing just the slightest, he managed to give the servant a regal enough nod. "We will be there momentarily." Watching the 'help' bow their way out of the room, he paused to tilt Rhonwyn's features up toward his, offering her the gentlest of kisses.

"I suppose we should ready ourselves..."

"How did they manage to foul up such a simple task?" Amidea demanded, glaring down upon her husband. He sat nonchalantly in one of the few armchairs tastefully situated within the comfortable parlor. It was apparent she had gone through painstaking measurements to create a modicum of order; or, at least, a semblance of such.

"Regardless, they are only children, Amidea." Dieran nearly chastised, especially considering the almost-condescending smile twitching at his lips. Where his wife was petite and elegant, he was strong and slightly foreboding. They had the perfect image of a noble house, relationship, family, and business. It were times like these that idle musing overtook the man, though he obviously never gave voice to it, considering how his wife sighed in exasperation. "Oh come now," he murmured, glancing up from the pipe he had been packing. "They'll simply have to return and finish their duties."

"Return?" Amidea managed a laugh, one which was rather spiteful at that. "You may be a doting husband, dear, but sometimes you lack the wit to see clearly." It was obvious the woman was about to send herself into a tizzy; what, all with the pacing and hand gestures. "If they return to that bloody Tower, my heart, they will be imprisoned for the merest attempt! Likely stilled as well!" An ostentatious shiver rippled through her form, body undulating as if the thought actually pleased her, instead of enstilling fear.

With a sign, Dieran rose, motioning his wife closer so he could envelope her in a warm embrace. "It will all work out for the best, love. You'll see. But, until then, you're going to have to work on Rhonwyn, like we discussed. Understood?" Grasping Amidea's chin, he tilted her face upward, though it was obvious how reluctant she was about the movement. "Amidea..." he sternly warned, watching his wife nod slowly. "Good." Much like their children had been interrupted earlier, a knock sounded at the door. A servant admitted himself once Dieran had given permission. "Enter!"

By the time the door had opened, the pair had separated; Amidea settling down into an overly-large chair, embroidery hoop upon a nearby stand swung over, unconcernedly working at yet another piece as if she had all the time in the world. "Your children, Rhonwyn and Rhydin," as if they had need to be reminded of their names, "are here to see you, my Lord and Lady."

"Show them in." Settling back down into his chair, Dieran reached for a lit twig from near the fire burning in the hearth, lighting the tabac in his pipe, puffing contentedly for the time being. A hand ran through his short, dark brown hair, in an effort to keep his fingers from drumming, apparently. A light gaze turned toward the doorway once it opened, observing his two children walk in, suitably chastised for what was to come. He had not even said a word as of yet! Rhonwyn's features were lowered as she shuffled across the threshold, while Rhydin seemed to hop nervously from foot to foot. Dieran could not help himself as he smiled indulgently; a most unnerving smile, full of confidence and surety.

Yet, there was something different about the pair of siblings that he had not seen before. Was it that the White Tower had helped instill that sense of duty into them? It would be beyond luck if that were to happen. No reason for false hopes. "Just look at you two," Dieran began, watching his son flinch as if awaiting an oncoming blow. "These last few weeks have seemed to change you, hmm? Come here, let me have a look at you."

Rhydin was simply waiting for the explosion of anger that would likely end his life. Yet... their mother complacently sat with her embroidery, and their father as scrutinizing as ever. Reluctantly, he shuffled over toward where the older gentleman sat, forcing himself to at least remain steady beneath the unfaltering gaze. Not much had changed there. For what felt like long minutes, their father studied him, seeming to search for a hidden flaw; though there were an abundance that the man was already unhappy with in his eldest, and only, son.

Rhonwyn was next, casting a glance toward their mother before apparently having not one single problem with their father's cold eyes glancing over her form in a cursory manner. That had always reminded Rhydin of a man studying an animal, what its best uses were, and when it could ultimately be discarded. Or simply done away with. Resisting the urge to reach for his sister's hand, he stood complacently toward the side, simply waiting. Watching. Hoping for the love of Light that they weren't angry.

"Now, about your plans..."

"She arrived too early," Rhydin blurted out, attempting to cover deeds done from his own parents. It was not as if the love that he held for his sister was a common thing. It was most certainly frowned upon, if not worse. "Our initial plan was to place Crimsonthorn into the tea served to the head table." He was not babbling, merely explaining at a rapid pace. You're a bloody ninny! "Unfortunately, it seems that one of the serving staff got a hold of the tainted pot, and served it to some Gaidin..." Trailing off momentarily, Rhydin paused to cease his shuffling feet and fidgeting hands.

"And?" It was the first thing that their mother had said, not even greeting them once they walked through the door. Glancing toward her, he saw that she had not even looked up from her embroidery hoop. It was as if they weren't even alive.

"A forged letter, from the woman's... secretary was sent to her at the festival, informing her of a dire need for her presence, immediately." Rhonwyn had come up with the excellent idea. But Rhydin did not regret their becoming... sidetracked. Not at all. "Unfortunately, she arrived with near immediacy. The bloody woman must have ran through the halls." He gulped at their father's arched brow. Watch your tongue, dolt! "My apologies, sir..." Rhydin muttered, casting his gaze down to his boots as he finished the brief telling. "I was able to push her aside with a wall... But she rounded about too quickly for me to stop her." Definitely vague, but considering their Amadician heritage, the message came through with startling clarity. "We were no match for her when she was at full strength. It was either be captured, or flee like fugitives." Oh, they were criminals, all right. Just not in the conventional sense.

Yet, their father said nothing. Rhydin shared a look with Rhonwyn, both sides of the bond extending cautious confusion, and a tamped down sort of fear. But it was not Dieran that they truly had to worry about. More than anything, it was the petite, foreboding woman that was their mother which held their greatest concerns.

"I want you to tell us everything," Amidea stated forcefully, earning a glance from her husband. But he did remain quiet, which spoke volumes for anyone with a political background. Dieran was allowing her to have the floor, which meant that their hides would be striped red by sunset for certain! "Start from the beginning, when you arrived. Spare no detail."

No detail? Inside, Rhydin laughed uproariously, wondering how he managed to keep such a straight face. It must have been those weeks in the White Tower, already changing him into something he did not like. Who would have imagined something so tainted and filthy as seizing saidin could be so wonderful as well? The question and answer session had begun. Not long into it, Rhydin felt himself begin to sweat. She was ruthless and cunning, detecting the smallest flaw or insincerity in their voices.

No... Rhydin amended mentally. This is the bloody Pit of Doom!

Rhonwyn
The Amyrlin Must Die
Sun Jan 4 2004 5:53:09 pm

There was a few moments’ awkwardness as the servant paused in readiness to usher them out of the room and towards the room in which their parents were waiting. To Rhonwyn’s surprise, she had grown unaccustomed to servants waiting upon her, so she glanced from her brother to the servant in confusion. In desperation, the servant bowed her head and led the way, inadvertently allowing the siblings privacy in which they could share covert glances and touches. Who knew when they would be able to appreciate such intimacy again?

The servant behaved immaculately, opening a nondescript door just far enough to allow her slight figure entrance before shutting it once more. The walls were well insulated, but Rhonwyn knew the woman had asked for permission to grant herself and her brother access. She returned within a moment or two, ushering the pair through the door. Blue eyes sought blue-green pleadingly, begging for the courage and confidence Rhonwyn knew she would need to survive this meeting. She bit her lip and shared Rhydin’s gaze for a few moments, but time passed too quickly—their parents were waiting, and their pause would be noted and analyzed if it was tangible.

Neither of her parents had changed much since their departure, but it was still a shock to be faced with them once more. Dieran was reclined as customary, though his current perch was dilapidated in comparison to the chair in his study at home. A tendril of smoke from an intricately carved pipe in his fist curled in contrast to his graying, dark brown hair. Though Rhonwyn imagined he wasn’t far out of his thirties, if that, Dieran’s dark hair had begun to gray early, as is the case among those with dark hair. The gray tiered along his temples and along the strands above his eyes, lending him an air of nobility and sophistication. His body was testament to his youth, agile and virile beneath layers of finely spun cloth. His blue eyes gazed piercingly at his two children from beneath bushy brown eyebrows. Here there was no suggestion of familial warmth.

From an outside perspective, Amidea looked as if she was the head of the household. For all intents and purposes, that was how she appeared now. Her spine was straightened severely, hands clasped together at her waist. Her pointed chin had a lifted air about it; the prominence of her line was evident in every aspect of her, from the purposeful organization of blonde curls at the top of her head to the severe lines of her cream gown. She directed them an imperiously raised eyebrow, lips pursed.

As the servant announced their entrance, Dieran remained at his perch, apparently unconcerned at their arrival. Amidea settled herself carefully in a chair opposite her husband, procuring an embroidery hoop that she went to work on immediately. They were the epitome of propriety, treating their children like chattel—just as nobility should. Their punishment was nigh approaching, and their parents carefully observed and acclimated that atmosphere with their purposeful oblivion. Rhonwyn shuffled uncomfortably before realizing what she was doing; she was pleased to note that Rhydin was similarly affected.

If Rhonwyn had been expecting a warm greeting, she was sorely disappointing as her father began, “Now, about your plans…” She turned her head downwards, fighting the urge to bite her lip and glare simultaneously. She settled for biting the inside of her lip and glaring at the floor below, anger averted. She could not believe that she was so easily angered when Aes Sedai treated her far worse than this daily. Perhaps it was just that here they were, doing their parents’ bidding without complaint, and they couldn’t bother even to ask how they were doing! No, it was straight to the plans and where they had gone wrong. Surely her parents had it in them to be kind!

A look at her father’s iron features suggested otherwise. Amidea remained focused on her needlework, but she tensed, hands pausing as Rhydin began to speak, sparing Rhonwyn the necessity. He explained their rough plans and what they had done to adjust them through the evening, finally concluding at the Amyrlin’s intrusion, though thankfully, he did not label it as such. Dieran did not honor them with a response, instead thumbing his pipe contemplatively.

Amidea, however, had abandoned her embroidery, stern eyes a rival to her husband’s steel. “I want you to tell us everything,” she said, her voice a sword point where Dieran’s was a dagger beneath velvet. He cast her a harsh glance, his disapproval obvious. “Start from the beginning, when you arrived. Spare no detail.” Dieran returned his gaze to his children, lips at his pipe, eyes cold and calculating as ever.

“We…” Rhydin’s head jerked in her direction, eyes staring as Rhonwyn began instead of himself. How could he expect to protect her from her own parents, even now? Uncertain how to begin, Rhonwyn opted to go over what had occurred in her life, hoping her brother would supplement the information with his own when she concluded. “We arrived three weeks ago, as you said.” Once the tale commenced, it came out in short bursts. “We both assumed aliases so that if we failed we would not be connected with you, and so that we would not be known as brother and sister. I was Myrlin; Rhydin was Daevon. The…witches accepted that easily enough. The one in charge of training signed us into their book, got us rooms, uniforms…” She fingered the white of her garb wonderingly, ashamed that she was facing her parents in such attire. Would they think she was just another dissembling Tar Valon witch and dismiss everything she said because of it? “…and we began our lessons.” She glanced from parent to parent, sure they would despise this part of the telling. “You see, we had to… If we hadn’t, they would have known something was amiss. We had to fit in as much as possible. Maybe… And maybe if we learned some of the uses of the Power, we could use it against them.” She flushed, eyes trailing down to her clasped hands. How could she admit to her parents that the last she wanted to lose was saidar?

“We couldn’t see each other often, since we weren’t supposed to be associated with each other. We wanted to keep up that front so that we wouldn’t be connected until we fled after the deed was done.” So much for that, her mind taunted, their defeat upon them. But you escaped. At least it’s over. “We waited until the Festival of Lights to…commit the deed, knowing that our absences from lessons, chores, and the like would not be noted due to the festivities and all the visiting dignitaries. We met shortly after our arrival to organize this, but we left the details to our plans mostly undecided so that we could meld to the situation if it changed.” Neither of her parents were so much as blinking, so intent were their gazes.

“So, on the day of the feast, we attended classes as usual in the morning, and our plans set off that evening. I went to the kitchens with forkroot—it’s an herb that stills a person’s ability to channel and knocks them unconscious for a few hours, which was more than enough for us to get rid of the Amyrlin and anyone else it might affect. I set the tea to steep and set it aside to be taken to the Amyrlin. I finished my chores and changed into a servant’s livery so that I could serve the tea myself. I took it to the dais where the Amyrlin and her party were located, but I could not serve them myself. Women can sense another’s ability to channel when standing within a few paces of them, and I was reluctant to get close if it meant that one of the Aes Sedai could tell that I was no servant.” Eyes still darted, searching for some sign of pleasure. There was none. Her mother’s face had hardened, lips pursed, fingers fidgeting as she gazed at her daughter, head canted slightly to the side. “So I retreated to the place Rhydin and I had designated earlier to watch to make sure everything went well.

“It…didn’t, though. We waited, but nothing happened. I told Rhydin to meet me in the Keeper’s office—that’s the…woman’s…secretary—and went to see what had happened to the tea. It had been taken to some Gaidin in the Amyrlin’s party; forkroot doesn’t affect those that can’t channel, so it did no more than make them act like they were intoxicated. I changed into my novice uniform and gathered my belongings, and then went to meet Rhydin.”

The more she spoke, the more she gathered confidence. She was nearly finished, at that. She had only to get through another few sentences before she could leave the continuation to her brother, though there was not much left for him to explain. “I forged a note from the Keeper to the Amyrlin, summoning her to the office. We would’ve preferred to do away with as many Aes Sedai as possible, but we decided to settle for the Amyrlin, knowing what a shock that would be to the White Tower. I copied her signature off another letter in her desk. Rhydin convinced a novice to deliver the note to her, and he gave her a packet of poison and tea that she could steep and give to the Amyrlin as well. We…assume that this tea also got averted, given that the woman came to us soon enough. Quicker than we expected,” she amended with an unintentional glance at her brother.

“And…you know the rest,” she concluded, eyes still arrested with Rhydin’s. Rhonwyn tore her gaze elsewhere, uncomfortable. She could not allow herself to feel this way about her brother—my lover, my bondmate—in front of their parents. They were shrewd enough to recognize that something had altered between them; if they could not name it directly, they would know that Rhonwyn and Rhydin had gotten much closer since leaving the shelter of their protection. Would we have grown as…close…as we did if we had remained at home? Rhonwyn wondered, fingers twisting and fidgeting in her lap. Probably not. Did she regret it? No, she would never regret it, even if she would never feel her brother’s embrace for the rest of her days.

She suspected she would not live much longer, according to her parents’ silence. When she looked tentatively up, their eyes were locked, almost as if they were capable of conveying thoughts, much like herself and her brother could convey emotions, what with the bond now between them. Finally Dieran turned to their children, his wife visibly pensive. “You may leave us. We will summon you later. In the meantime, get some food and rest.” With that, a servant appeared, ushering them from the room to the same bedroom they had vacated earlier.

Rhonwyn seated herself on the bed when the door closed behind the servant, eyes inevitably returning to her love. “What’s going to happen to us, Rhydin…?” She doubted even he knew. Something tickled the back of her mind, something she knew she should recognize but for some reason did not… Surely it was just the tension of the situation.

“Well?” The door shut behind their retreating son and daughter, securing the parents the privacy they would need to discuss. “You wanted to talk about something. What is it?” Dieran’s tone was harsh but understanding. Amidea was as discerning as himself, if not more so—but then, that was frequently the case with women. They could discern emotional discord where men were only baffled.

Amidea stood, embroidery hoop secured at the table to her side. Even when she was so obviously bothered, Amidea would not allow the niceties of nobility to be forgotten. “We were lucky, my love,” she began, starting in a vein Dieran had not anticipated. “It was fortunate that you were secluded as you were, when we were children. Otherwise, we would not be allowed to savor the freedom that we do today.” It had been fortunate; in that Dieran agreed. If it hadn’t been for their parents’ unusual proclivity for paranoia, Dieran and Amidea’s incest would have been recognized and labeled as such. They would not have been allowed to marry and procreate. “However,” she continued, gaze returning to her husband’s, “Rhonwyn and Rhydin do not have the Creator’s hand upon them as we did.”

She concluded there, her meaning obvious. Dieran set his pipe aside and brushed the knuckles of his hand across his chin, thoughtful. Could Rhydin really be suffering the same temptations as he had with his own sister? If so, he certainly hadn’t the luck that Dieran himself had had. If it hadn’t been for his own parents’ ridiculous tendencies, he would have had to relinquish his sister’s bed long ago. Now they shared not only a bed, but wedlock, as well. “And? We can hardly condemn them for our own sins, Amidea,” Dieran observed.

“Yes, brother, but their impromptu romance is altogether misplaced! How could they have chosen worse timing? Why didn’t we sense this earlier, before it could destroy us? Destroy us it will, Dieran, if we allow this to continue! Can’t you see how in love they are? What if they’ve already bonded, as we did?”

“Nonsense,” Dieran dismissed, though his tone suggested how bothered he was by the possibility nonetheless. “They’re only novices. You were an Accepted before you left the Tower; you had years more training than they’ve had. They’ve only been there three weeks! The bond is a hard weave; how could they have replicated it this early into their training?”

“What if they’re stronger than we thought?” Amidea spat, blue eyes flashing. “Look at Rhonwyn, for example. She never would’ve had the courage to face us as she did tonight before she left.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, anger calmed, at least temporarily. “I can feel how strong she is, Dieran,” his wife continued softly. “She will be stronger than me, one day, and you know I’m stronger than most. I don’t know how you men work with your channeling, but if Rhonwyn is any indication, what of Rhydin? Men are almost always stronger than women. What if our match gave them strength we hadn’t anticipated?”

Dieran paused, contemplating his wife’s supposition. “What’s to be done, then?”

“I think we’ve lost our children, love. This separation, the Aes Sedai’s urging… It has strengthened them. Amadicians they may be, but their love is distracting. They know they’ll be in serious danger if they return, and neither wants to endanger the other. We will have to depend on…other means than their loyalty.” Amidea turned to her husband, tapping a manicured fingernail to her lip. “They will need some other persuasion. The Amyrlin must die!”

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