Born in Darkness

Disclaimer: I own nothing in Weheel of Time, I owe it all to Robert Jordan. Buy his books! Buy all his books because he doesn't bitch about us using his beautiful rich settings to play in!

A/N This chapter is a bridge to the next part of the story, which is more developed. I will come back and add detail to this later.

The First Betrayal

Rhiannon strode down the dark hall, her long gown sweeping the stones. The colors rippled and shimmered, shifting with her thoughts. This was straith, a rare fabric from the Age of Legends. The gown was a birthday gift from her mother, and a damned impressive one.

Her mother had been careful to warn Rhiannon not to wear it around the Chosen, for they could read her thoughts in the shifting of the gown. She laughed and replied that among them all she had no reason to hide her thoughts.

They should all be here tonight. The Great Father had ordered their attendance at this - her 18th birthday. Something important was going to happen tonight, beyond the usual competition to see which gift was the finest. She could feel it on the air. A tension, like a band of rubber stretched to the breaking point.

And most had not even arrived yet.

The outer chambers were decorated for a great feast. She could see her mother speaking to Semirhage in the far corner. Her mother was dressed in a resplendent green dress which bared both her ample bosoms. The other woman was, as usual, attired wholly in black.

Her mother smiled and shook her head in mock disapproval as her daughter approached.

“I tried to warn her, but she never listens to a word I say.”

“She’ll learn her lesson, as soon as Rahvin walks in the door,” the two women exchanged a look as though they were engaged in some private joke.

“Come, child, let me look at you,” the woman in black motioned for her to come closer. She felt cool fingers brush her cheek. “We have done well with this one, I think.” The woman slipped a small pouch into her hand, then turned back to her conversation with Graendal.

Rhiannon walked slowly around to the other side of the table to give the two women some privacy. She had no desire to be privy to their schemes. Curios, she turned the pouch up. A ring fell into her hand. At first glance it appeared to be a plain silver ring. She knew better. She also knew that Semrhage would not reveal the secret of the ring to her. She would have to discover it’s purpose on her own.

She felt someone approach and turned to greet her father. He embraced her quickly. “You seem more tense than usual, milord. Is something the matter?”

“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” he replied, but hee glanced over her left shoulder as he did so. A sure sign he was lying. She considered questioning him, but chose to let the matter drop. She showed him the ring instead.

“A mystery for you to solve, then,” he laughed. “Should keep you busy for a bit. I have your gift, of course, but you shall have to come to Illian to pick it up.”

“Illian? I am to be allowed to leave, then?”

He nodded.

She threw her arms around him. He unwrapped her, shaking his head at her lack of decorum, but his smile widened. Even with the scar, Sammael was an incredibly well made man. It did not surprise Rhiannon in the least that her mother had found her way into this man’s bed.

Voices in the hallway caught her attention and she stepped away fom him, still grinning widely, as Aginor and Balthamel entered. They exchanged pleasantries and found their way to their seats.

Another man strode into the room, and as their eyes met, she remembered the exchange between her mother and Semirhage earlier. Their eyees met and she felt heat rush to her cheeks, at the same time she felt the dress shift..

“It seems Rahvin may have some competition. Trust our little dreamer to fancy the poet,” Balthamel, just loud enough for her to hear him. She glanced down to find the dress had gone nearly transparent.

Asmodean bowed and clasped her hand, bringing it to his lips. “Ignore them,” he murmured, eyes shining, and obviously pleased. “He has not arrived?” his expression hardened just a bit.

“Not yet. It is still early.”

“Yes. Early. I would be honored if you would allow me to sit with you until he arrives.”

“Sit with me. If he’s not here, he just loses his place. That’s all there is to it.”

He held out his arm and she took it, allowing him to escort her to her seat.

“How fares the world?”

“Much the same. Wars and rumors of wars. Men killing each other for fun or profit.”

The others trickled in. Demandred arrived at his usual late hour and still, Rahvin did not come. In truth, Rhiannon did not miss him much. For all his faults, Asmodean carried a conversation easily and kept her wine glass full and her attention elsewhere until quite late in the evening.

Most of the Chosen had come and gone by the time he escorted her back to her rooms. She sank to the couch and tried to pull him down next to her. He deftly extricated himself from her clutches and stood, hands on his hips glaring down at her. “More wine!”

“I think you’ve had quite enough wine, young lady!” he said with mock sternness, which sent her into a hale of giggles. When she had caught her breath, she sighed, a little too loudly.

“You are the only person in the entire world who understands me, Mo. The only person I don’t have to pretend around, keep up the image.”

“If you want to talk to me, call me by my name.”

“I can’t. It doesn’t fit you. All the others, they slide right into their names, but yours... it feels...awkward, wrong, somehow. I’d rather call you Joar.”

“That was my name once,” he said, stroking her hair gently.

“It’s a good name. It fits you. The other doesn't.”

“Fine. Just none of your irritatingly cute nicknames. Keep those for Rahvin.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t dare,” she said, pretending horror, then collapsed into another fit of laughter, which ended in a choked sob. “He didn’t show tonight. I had a feeling he would do something like this. I don’t know why I even care.”

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with him,” Asmodean said gently.

“I know. What’s going on? I know you know. What’s in Caemlyn? He almost never comes to see me anymore.”

“Don’t ask me these questions, Rhiannon, please. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the last thing in the world I want.”

“You can’t hurt me,” she slurred, leaning against him, “I’m unshakable. But I deserve to know.”

“Please, Rhee,”

“You’re the only one who won’t lie to me. Does he have someone else there?”

A long pause. He took a deep breath. “Several... someones. One is the Queen from the tales he’s spreading.”

She didn’t speak for a few long minutes. When she did, she suddenly sounded incredibly sober.
“How do I get there?”

“You can’t go there, Aislynn. You can’t confront him.”

“If you don’t show me, I’ll go to my father. I will confront him. It is my right.”

“Wait until the morning, then. You need to sleep.”

She nodded, yawning, and snuggled in closer to him. He slid his arms around her and held her close, burying his face in her hair, listening as the sound of her breathing slowed. He started to get up, but the moment he did, she stirred and murmured a protest. Instead, he shifted his weight so that his arm would not lose circulation, and settled back into the couch, feeling the warmth of her body against him.

The morning came with a vengeance.

Shortly after dawn, Rahvin sauntered into Rhiannon’s quarters to find them curled up on the couch.

“And exactly what are you doing here, poet?” He practically snarled.

“Keep quiet, or you’ll wake her. You’re the last thing she needs to deal with this morning.”

“I shall handle my own affairs. This is none of your...”

Her eyes fluttered open. For a moment, confusion and sleep warred with consciousness, and then she came fully awake. “Both of you, out of my chambers. Now.” she commanded, he voice low and dangerous.

“Now.”

Asmodean bowed and retreated just beyond the edge of the door frame, listening.

Rahvin had no intentions of leaving. “Rhiannon, I am sorry about last night, but I was delayed.”

“By your Queen?”

“Yes, by the...how do you...I’ll kill that bloody poet. I’ll skin him alive and use him for a book cover...”

“You will do no such thing. You will explain to my why you felt it necessary to lie to me. Do you think I care how many women you take to your bed?”

He stared at her, mouth open in shock.

“I care about the lies. Trust is something none of you have, but it is something which is extremely important to me. You have lost that. I don’t want to see you face in my private quarters again. In fact., it would be good if I don’t see your face at all for a while. Get out.”

“Do not presume to lecture me, Rhiannon...”

“Get. Out.” She seized hold of the Power, felt it flooding into her, banishing the hangover and sending out waves of pulsing energy. He took a step back. Though he could not see it, he knew what she was doing.

“I’ll give you some time to think about it. When you’ve reconsidered, you know where to find me,” he turned on his heel and strode quickly down the hallway, passing Asmodean in the shadows.

The door slammed shut.

A few minutes later, Asmodean approached the door, but stopped before he kncked. Prssing his ear against the cool wood, he hear the sound of muffled sobs. For all her strength, she was, and always would be, human. As were they all.

“I would have spared you this,” he said, to the door or to himself, he could not say which. He knelt there outside her door for a long time, listening to the sound of her pain, longing to comfort her, and knowing he could not. This burden she must bear alone.