Chapter Text
She’s learned a good many things since she was reawakened. First, that the other Forsaken are more tedious and dangerous than she remembered. Secondly, that the Aes Sedai, Moiraine, is much more ruthless and cunning than she gave her credit for. And lastly, that the boy they call Rand is not, in fact, her Dragon.
The first angers her more than anything. In her arrogance, she let her guard down, and Moghedien has been able to weave her traps, gaining influence much faster than she did last time. People think the Forsaken are beyond emotion, so lost to the darkness are they, but Lanfear recognizes the feeling welling in her chest as fear. She must be vigilant moving forward, and the spider must be crushed.
But for now, she has more pressing issues to attend to. She saw the boy in Cairhien, a poor little farm boy lost on his way. She kept her eye on him, pretended to be a lowly innkeeper in the Foregate, seduced him, learned all about his precious Two Rivers. But something felt off. He had power, she could sense the weight of it, but it wasn’t potent enough, not near enough.
At first, she believed it to be a part of this new world she found herself in. She’s found that channelers are nowhere near as powerful as they were in her time. But the way he spoke began grating at her. His desires too small, too mundane, too unlike Lews. She started to find the darkness in him juvenile, an angry boy mourning his home and nothing more. So very, very dull. His only dream of his family and friends. No sign of Lews, of the man she once knew and loved. In her eagerness to find him she miscalculated, and captured the wrong boy. Though she wasn’t the only one fooled, it seems.
Does Moiraine know? If the boy had Ishamael fooled, it seems likely that he could have fooled her too. However, she is clever, and has proven to be ruthless in the pursuit of her goals. She worked so hard to retrieve the boy from her clutches that she stabbed Lanfear and slit her throat for good measure, and used a stablehand as bait simply to buy them more time, undoubtedly knowing what fate the woman would face. Lanfear would find it admirable were she not so infuriated at having been deceived for so long. Did she use the boy as bait too? Has she spent all this time Lanfear wasted on Rand protecting the true Dragon Reborn? Why then, would she come back for him? So many, many questions.
Lanfear only had one option from here.
She knew Moiraine would have to sleep at some point. No one was immune to it, even an Aes Sedai, powerless or not. So Lanfear bid her time, waiting. Plotting.
When she finally succumbed, Lanfear pounced.
The Aes Sedai is prepared. Even without the One Power, she has fight in her. Though it does her no good. She knew Lanfear would bring her here, and with her knife at the ready she stabs for Lanfear’s heart, but with a flick of the wrist she is disarmed.
Lanfear stalks towards her, hand wrapping around the Aes Sedai’s throat, lifting her off the ground, “Tell me, Moiraine,” she purrs against her ear, “How does it feel? To be cut off from your power.” Lanfear pulls away to gauge her expression, smiling at the hatred in Moiraine’s eyes. “Helpless,” she continues, and her lips curve in revulsion as she surveys the discarded knife on the floor, “Relying on a man’s weapon to save you.”
Lanfear pauses, her head tilting in faux contemplation, “I can give it back, you know. Your power.” She lets the words sink in, and sees the shock that lights Moiraine’s face only for a moment before her impeccable mask falls into place.
“You…lie,” Moiraine forces out.
Lanfear chuckles darkly, “No.” She lets Moiraine go, the woman is no threat to her. She takes a moment to look at her, eyes traveling the length of her body as if sizing up an opponent. Regardless of her lack of power, she is formidable, and despite herself, Lanfear gains a little respect for the woman. Too bad she will soon lose her usefulness. “You see,” She continues, “We Chosen can see every weave, even male weaves. And Ishy appears to have done a little parlor trick on you. He’s tied your power into knots so you cannot access it.”
Moiraine’s throat bobs as the information sinks in, but she shakes her head, “It’s impossible.”
Lanfear’s returning smile is vicious, “You think me untrustworthy, and rightfully so, but even we Forsaken have our limits. One of us alone cannot Still a person.”
Moiraine stares at her a moment, weighing her words before she scoffs quietly and shakes her head, “I won’t give you the boy.”
“You think I want him?” She sneers, “The boy from the Two Rivers? Whose only dream is to return to that life of sheepherding?” Lanfear closes in on Moiraine again, her anger coming to the surface lightening quick as she slams her against the wall. “He is not who I seek, and you know it. Where is the true Dragon, Moiraine?” Her voice is a growl, and she is shaking with the force of her rage. And fear. If the other Forsaken find him first...She quickly shakes the thought away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Moiraine manages, wiping the blood dripping from her lips as she recovers her breathing.
“Oh, don’t play coy with me, Moiraine. We both know Rand is not the Dragon Reborn.” Lanfear sees a glimmer of surprise on the Aes Sedai’s face before she schools her features. A flicker of doubt overcomes her anger. No, she must know. She must. If Moiraine doesn’t know, then she has no hope of finding him before the others. Has she really been wasting her time on those with the wrong answers? Foolish, so foolish of her.
Lanfear growls in frustration, stalking away from Moiraine before turning to face her again. She didn’t know. Light, help her. “What do you mean, he is not the Dragon?” Moiraine’s voice is low, calculating. Looking to talk her way out of here, no doubt. “We went to the Eye of the World. He faced Ishamael. He is confirmed as the Dragon, as it is written.”
“No.” The word is soft, but final. Lanfear looks at the Aes Sedai without seeing her, thinking. “No,” she says again louder, “Ishy was wrong. The boy has power, a great deal of it, but there is no trace of Lews in him. He is not strong enough. He has fooled us, Moiraine.” How could Ishamael have not known? Was his greed stronger than her own, seducing him with the promise of the power of a boy said to have been born at the right time, under the right circumstances?
She’s been so foolish, and now she will pay the price. The other Forsaken may already know who he is, and where he is. She must find him.
Moirane looks lost now, muttering to herself, “No, that cannot be. He is the only one of them with enough power. There is no one else.”
Lanfear focuses on Moirane, watching as the news sinks in, shaking her head as she processes the weight of the new information. The woman looks so young now, huddled as she is on the floor. Lanfear’s anger is extinguished and she is simply tired. So fucking tired. She has half a mind to leave the Aes Sedai as she is, weak and useless, but then she notices something peculiar. Ishy’s bound the Aes Sedai, that’s certain, but there’s something else, a trace of nearly unfamiliar weaves that she has not seen in many, many years.
Moiraine is speaking now, theorizing, her brain working to reconcile this new knowledge with what she thought she knew, “Siuan,” she says softly, “I have to talk to Siuan.”
Lanfear isn’t listening, enthralled as she is by the sight before her, her eyes taking in the intricate patterns of the weaves. Delicate as gossamer, they cover the entire length of Moiraine's body as if encasing her in netting. Lanfear might have missed it were she not already aware of Ishamael’s weave, tied like a bow at the center of her chest.
It’s not possible. The woman is entirely too old, and she’s from a noble house in Cairhien, certainly not where the Dragon was meant to come back into the world. And she would have spent years in the Tower. Someone would have noticed the weaves caging her. Who would have put the weaves on in the first place? Unless it were a man. This was not done by Ishamael, though. This is older. Perhaps done in early childhood. It had to have been a man. There is no other explanation. He would have had to be exceptionally talented, which would have undoubtedly led to madness. He would have been Gentled by the Red Ajah, perhaps killed. There would be records from around that time…
Ishamael, you have missed so much of what was right in front of you.
Still, Lanfear has trouble believing it herself. There was no hint, no foretelling. It simply cannot be.
It is not possible. And yet…
She doesn’t realize that she’s said that out loud until Moiraine responds, “What’s not possible?”
“You,” Lanfear whispers, “It’s you.”