Corridor after corridor; staircase after staircase the routes which contained the lifeblood of the White Tower stretched on. Yet these complex webs of passages paled in comparison to the webs spun by the women who walked them daily. There were more secrets here than stars in the sky. Some were so small it was stupid to keep them secret. Others could bring about the political downfall of another. Politics drove the Tower. Here betrayal gave way for alliance; a downfall meant a conquest. There were more secrets in these hallways than stars in the sky. Some of those were harmless, others fatal. There were a few which seemed nearly pointless to keep hidden while others should never have been brought into the open. One of those now followed a white-clad woman through the Tower.

 

Few things would ever be more memorable for the youth than this visit. For the first time in his relatively short like- especially in comparison to the women around him- he would meet the woman who had given him life. All he knew of Estel Liones he had learned from stories passed down by his grandmother and he was beginning to learn that most of those were exaggerated to the point of fiction. His meeting with Orion had cast a different light on the woman and one that troubled him. Everything he had ever known of her was so abruptly shifting so that he could not be sure of anything. He had always pictured her as a near saint; the perfect example of an Aes Sedai. Now stories came revealing a troubled woman of questionable worth.

 

For his entire life Faerthines had not been able to wait another moment for this meeting. Now that it had finally come, he felt a nearly overwhelming urge to run in the opposite direction. Truth hurts. He was only now beginning to loose his youthful naivety to be replaced by a sobering- almost to the point of depressing- view of the nature of how the world worked.

 

“These are Estel Sedai’s apartments.†The Novice said, giving him an appraising look. At another time the girl’s interest would not have been ignored but just then there were far more important things occupying Faerthines’ mind. With a disappointed pout the girl left, leaving him alone in front of the nondescript wooden door.

 

Suddenly his arms felt leaden and his strength insufficient to lift them. He stood like a statue in front of the door, unable to bring himself to knock. Reasons to go on and reasons to flee were repeated again and again but neither side could triumph over the other. Unable to come to a decision he sought answers in his surroundings.

 

Everything in the corridor, from floor tiles to the ceiling, was some shade of blue. It felt as if he a suddenly been plunged into the sea or had perhaps fallen into the sky. Even the women who walked the halls wore mainly blue. They sported every fashion from the conservative dresses of the Borderlands to the thin silk dresses of his native land. As they passed, they gave him curious glances and suddenly began whispering. Did they know? How much did everyone in the Tower actually know about him?

 

The prying eyes were finally what drove him to knock. The fear and anxiety he had felt before were nothing compared to the waves that crashed down on him now. His knees shook and he had to bite his lip to keep his breath from coming out in gasps. He could hear movement inside, which only served to increase his anxiety and fear. The only thought running through his head just then was how much he hoped she would accept him.

 

Faerthines

It was a calm day outside; the blue sky was clear except for a handful of puffy white clouds. Barely a breath of air stirred the blue lace curtains at her window which was thrown open to allow the young Blue, busily working at her desk, some fresh air. Overall, it was a normal day, nothing heralding a meeting which would rock Estel on her barely established foundations. And there was certainly not an ill thing in the weather to foreshadow the disaster that would follow.

 

In hindsight, bitter thoughts would roll through Estel’s mind along the lines of: Such beautiful spring days should not be ruined by shadows from the past. The Creator should have chosen a different day, a day where thunder and dark skies would reflect the moods of the two estranged kin. Or perhaps the meeting should not have gone the way it had. Why did she have to ruin such a vital relationship on such a perfect day?

 

But if wishes were wings, pigs would fly. She had learned that the hard way.

 

Estel was writing her reports when the knock came. It was mundane work, though it required a certain amount of cunning to write them as it would not do for the true purpose of her voyages to become known. All the Ajah had to know was that she had been in Tear when she ‘ran across’ a certain male channeller- who would be arriving in the next few days along with a party of Reds. Her Sisters did not need to know that she had spent the past year with the boy, hiding with him and helping escape the Reds. Nor did they have to know that it had been she who had left a certain herb in his water skin so that the Reds would find him unconscious, hours later.

 

When the knock came, a whole list of possible visitors rolled through her head- most highly unwelcome at her door. She had expected one of her Ajah Sisters, Serena or Cale or Elyssa, or maybe one of her other Sisters, or the manipulative Green that headed them. Scenarios ran through her head, none of them the return of her son. She expected another fight with Sirayn or words of welcome. Insults and greeting both lay on the tip of her tongue ready for any visitor, and visitor except the boy who stood on the other side of the door.

 

If only some sort of warning had gone off when she turned that handle, perhaps then no rift would have ever formed between mother and son. If only… If only… If wishes were wings…

 

And when she opened the door, there he stood, framed in her doorway.

 

She knew immediately who he was, despite having not seen him in almost sixteen years. To an outsider it would have seemed that one was the reflection of the other. But the mirror was flawed, one wore breeches and a coat, the other a thin, blue dress.

 

Shock stole her breath and she could not speak. Burn her, she wouldn’t have know what to say anyway. What could she possibly say to the baby she had abandoned sixteen years-ago for the shawl she wore around her slim shoulders? ‘Sorry, I couldn’t stay’? The words offered no comfort or justification. Was it even possible to justify what she had done? She had abandoned him for the Shawl, there was no way to soften that painful truth. ‘I’ve missed you’? That was a lie. How many times had she cursed herself for giving him life? How many times had she second-guessed her decision to bring him to term? Blood and bloody ashes! How many times had she sighed in relief that she had chosen the Shawl instead of him! The Three Oaths would not permit her to say anything more than ‘I’ve…’ There was nothing she could say to bring him comfort or to justify what she had done.

 

Light, but he had changed so much! She still remembered him, nursing at her breast so many years ago. It was burned in her memory, a happy time in the midst of grief. What would have happened if she had traded the life of an Aes Sedai for the burden of motherhood? She would never have Bonded Orion for one. Likely he would not have stayed with her either; his life was tied to the Tower. There would never have been the chance at redeeming herself either, for another. She had made the right choice. The choice any upstanding Aes Sedai would have made in her position. ‘No upstanding Aes Sedai would have gotten herself in that position.’ Besides, what kind of mother would she have made? She had enough trouble with her mentees! Her raising a son! The idea was laughable! And to top it all off, she would have spent every moment of those sixteen years regretting her decision.

 

There was no way to justify abandoning him but there would have been no way to justify giving up the Shawl either. It was a loose-loose situation. Damnit, why did everything always involve her losing?

 

Drawing a shuddering breath, she fought back nervousness and broke the silence between them. “Come in… Faerthines.†Her voice was barely a whisper and it caressed his name- the name she had given him- as a mother would have touched her son’s cheek to show affection. As he passed her, she bit her lip. He looked so nervous! ‘He’s as nervous as you are, but you’re acting the responsible Aes Sedai- for once- and not letting it show.’

 

“Sit down.†she said attempting- and failing- to sound somewhat motherly or even soothing. “Would you like some tea?†With a thread a Fire, there was a pot of tea boiling in under the time it took Faerthines to answer the question.

 

“Please and thank you.†It seemed her mother had taught him his manners well enough. Of course, Angelika had taught them to her too but they had been lost at some point during her years in white.

 

Reaching for a set of porcelain tea cups, Estel realised her hand was shaking, rattling the cup in their saucers. Desperately she willed it to stop, even going so far as Novice exercises to calm herself. It took nearly a full minute for her to compose herself, pour the tea and slip a little brandy into her own. Light knew she would need it.

 

“So… Why are you here?†‘Damnit! Bad! Remember, comforting, soothing… He’s your son you goat-brained daughter of whores!’ She took a long drink from her brandy-laced tea before shaking her head and repeating her question in different, more motherly words. “What brings you to my doorstep?†‘Still bad but getting better.’ With a look at her teacup she forced herself to suppress a groan. It was empty. Burn her, but she could use another drink.

When the door opened Faerthines took a step back, fully prepared to run down the hall in the opposite direction. His heart was in his mouth and “difficult” did not begin to explain the labour of taking a breath against that horrible lump blocking his throat. What he would have given to delay the meeting just five more minute- time to prepare himself, calm his nerves… But stopping what was already in motion now would be like trying to stop an avalanche already moving down the mountain.

 

The door opened to reveal a face that took his breath. Nearly every line, every contour was identical to his. Her eyebrows were thinner, chin less prominent and hair straight as a knife but the nose, cheekbones and forehead were the twins of those he looked at in the mirror every morning. Despite having seen her that morning already from a distance, the effect was nothing compared to be within arms’ reach of her.

 

No arms came out to embrace him, though. There were no warm greetings or tears- either joyful or guilty would have suited him just then. Instead, both of them stood stock-still staring, drinking in the other’s appearance- to avoid his less-than ideal welcome, his mind amused itself for a few minutes playing with the alliteration.

 

Finally, she welcomed him in… Well, not welcomed so much as asked him inside. Obliging, his emotions ran in circles as he tried to evaluate first the lack of emotion in the request and then the tenderness she added in using his name. At least she knew who he was… A child’s fantasy played through his head, imagining that she had secretly spied on him as he had grown up, loving him from the distance her profession required. It was the perfect explanation as to why she recognized him.

 

He reacted absent-mindedly as his mother offered him a seat and tea. The moment she had opened the door, all the rumours he had heard from the Yards; all the doubts he had had flew out the window and Estel Liones: heroine of his bedtime stories was back, perfect in every way. Faerthines sat in awe, subconsciously recreating the scene before him so his mother was warm and loving yet firm and serene: the perfect Aes Sedai mother. How was he to know that ideal was an oxymoron?

 

Her question finally came and he was eager to answer. “Grandmother died about a year ago, mother.” he ignored her wince but noted her obvious grief over his grandmother’s death. “She sent me here to be with you because she didn’t think I was ready to take the High Seat of House Liones. When I arrived, you weren’t here so I enrolled in the Warder’s Yard and am training to be a Tower Guard!” his eager smile betrayed a hint of his thirst for praise.

I see nothing in your eyes, and the more I see the less I like.

Is it over yet, in my head?

I know nothing of your kind, and I won't reveal your evil mind.

Is it over yet? I can't win.

So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left.

I know that I can find the fire in your eyes.

I'm going all the way, get away, please.

You take the breath right out of me.

You left a hole where my heart should be.

You got to fight just to make it through,

'Cause I will be the death of you.

This will be all over soon.

Pour salt into the open wound.

Is it over yet? Let me in.

(Breathe- Breaking Benjamin)

 

Estel didn’t answer right away. This was too much- too much to deal with! Such a maelstrom of emotions whirled through her body; each took the centre of attention in her mind before being drowned out by a next, stronger emotion and then again and again until the emotion returned stronger than before. Her test for the Shawl was nothing compared to the impossibility of keeping her emotions in check as her life changed faster than she could keep up.

 

Light he wasn’t supposed to be here! She kept repeating that to herself, words almost identical except for the occasional curse throw in here and there. Estel battled to keep fury, exasperation, anxiety, fear, wonder, grief or the thousands of other emotions rising within her like a river after a storm. Her hands shook from the effort and her teacup rattled in its saucer.

 

‘Breathe. The rosebud, opening itself up to the sun…’

 

“Damnit mother. You shouldn’t have come.”

 

WHY HAD SHE SAID THAT!?! Hazel eyes didn’t have to meet to see the devastation her words had wrought. Light damn her, she was his mother! How could she say that? Even if it was true. Burn her, this is what she got for being unable to control her emotions.

 

She could retract the words. Sluff them off as some comment that came out wrong in the wash of emotions flooding over her. But what would that gain either of them? What would she gain from having her son so close? Another blot on her ruined career? More scorn from her Sisters? What would he get? She couldn’t be a proper mother! She had enough trouble keeping up with her mentees! The boy was better off without her.

 

"Once the baby comes, you must decide whether to raise it yourself or to pass it onto someone secure to do this task for you.

 

"It is, only natural that on occasion these incidents happen ... But truly, if you ever wish to be of use to the Tower again, you should resign yourself to giving up this child. It can be used against you so easily; and you cannot give a child a proper raising while you have your own duties to attend to. Unless, that is, you were to give up the shawl and become a common woman.

 

"It is not possible to be both a mother and a sister of our great cause. I have seen cases like yours before and all attempts to balance them end in ruin. It's the shawl or motherhood; you must choose and choose fast."

 

Even after so many years, and the fact that she had been less than coherent on that occasion, that conversation remained vivid. “It's the shawl or motherhood…” She had made that choice years back. She has chosen to be Aes Sedai; chosen to give him up because not only would she feel guilty the rest of her life for rejecting the Tower but she would never be able to be the mother he needed.

 

Estel left the words hanging in the air between them, failing to match the twins of her own eyes for fear of appearing less than certain in her decision. Light, she wanted to cry.