MATTERS OF THE HEART
By:
Rai
Rated: PG

Author's Note: A recent re-reading of Eye of the World made me realize how deeply Robert Jordan embedded clues of Lan and Nynaeve's eventual relationship in the narrative. There are also equally numerous hints that Moiraine knew of these feelings as well early on. Knew, and seemingly didn't approve of. This is an expansion of Chapter 37 and 38 of The Eye of the World, but told from the perspective of Moiraine Damodred. And it deals with the personal sacrifice involved in their quest, and the troubles of love.
Spoilers: You are expected to have read at least all of The Eye of the World to understand this story as Nynaeve and Lan's romantic tension is not formally revealed until late in the book.
Disclaimer: I am not owner nor the creator nor the writer of The Wheel of Time and its coinciding universe, may he rest in peace. I am not soliciting money from this venture as I am doing this for pure personal enjoyment. Any canonical and grammatical errors are my own.
Summary: Moiraine had never seen that look in Lan's eyes or that tone in his voice. And it frightened her. How could something as innocent as falling in love with a Village Wisdom threaten their quest?


Chapter 1 – Everything is Secondary

"Keep the horses quiet."

Moiraine Damodred didn't wait for the Wisdom to vent complaints over the soft, but curt order from her Warder. Oh, but she wanted to say something; Moiraine could practically feel the furious energy coming from Nynaeve al'Meara's dark eyes. But Moiraine would not give her the chance as she marched further into the thicket of trees on foot.

Truth be told, her patience had worn thin for the stubborn, peasant girl. Though, Moiraine would admit grudgingly to herself, it was not entirely the girl's fault that her presence has grown increasingly intolerable for her of late.

And so the Aes Sedai strode as quickly as she could, following the bond that led her to one of the Two Rivers boys, and away from Nynaeve whilst trying to maintain a measure of dignified composure by not allowing her riding dress to catch in the dead undergrowth, a cumbersome task had it not been for the staff she still held in her right hand.

The little knot of emotions at the back of her head, normally all steely-hard determination that masked old pains, quavered ever so slightly. It drew Moiraine's attention, and for a moment she wondered at the strange feeling she sensed from her Warder. Clarity hit her and she had to bite her tongue to keep from cursing. Of course he could sense my irritation, she thought sourly. And of course he would know precisely what it is that has made me irritable. Bloody fool.

Though she was uncertain if she referred to Lan or to herself as the fool.

For nearly twenty years he had followed her and saved her more times than she cared to keep track. But though they have been through much in their travels, she had never held his heart. Not that Moiraine had ever desired it. She had known better, for she and Lan came together through a common struggle and a shared sense of duty for humanity rather than an emotional one.

Once Lan had described it as being "married to their quest." Moiraine thought the comparison was an appropriate one, for it was a cause that they had devoted everything they had in order to best ensure that it had a successful end. So much so, there was little else for them to give, romantically or otherwise.

Their quest had consumed them.

And yet, how long had he harboured feelings for the Wisdom?

Moiraine recalled the days and months since Nynaeve came upon them unannounced in Baerlon, brimming with arrogance and anger over Moiraine's supposed kidnapping of the three boys from the Two Rivers. Moiraine knew Lan had been initially impressed at the Wisdom's tracking abilities, but she had felt more respect for the Wisdom from him than passion. Granted, the idea of Lan harbouring a passionate thought for another had been about as foreign an idea to Moiraine as Trollocs south of Tar Valon. She could have easily mistaken his feelings of passion for respect.

She also rationalized that there had to be a very low probability that he could have fallen for her so early into meeting her. Certainly Lan was not capable of experiencing love at first sight.

Or was he?

"If you watch the wolf too hard, a mouse will bite you on the ankle," muttered Moiraine with a grimace. It was an old proverb based on the Game of Houses that her father once said to her, a warning that one must not become too absorbed by a greater danger before them, when a smaller could undo you just as easily. She had had to remind herself of this many times over the years. And yet, it seemed that so consuming was her cause that she was often guilty of allowing the small things to slip beneath her.

Lan said nothing as he walked silently behind her, though she could feel his own thoughts through their bond, so full of worry and doubt that it weighed upon her. But he would not speak openly of any of his personal feelings to her. Not unless she goads him into speaking of it.

And she refused to goad him.

As she was about the brush aside a low branch that barred her way with the staff she held aloft, Lan suddenly lunged forward. Before she could stop him, he had pulled her back the way they had come, towards a thick collection of branches that resembled a bush. Surprised, her frustration boiled over. She turned on him, ready to bark a sharp command for his unexplained actions when she heard the sound of two men noisily passing behind her. She spun and had to bite back a curse for the second time that night.

Right at the spot where the low branch jutted stood two Whitecloaks.

To be consumed by the parts is to lose sight of the whole! she thought breathlessly to herself. Light!

Moiraine could not believe how her own foolish thoughts over insignificant details had almost led to what could have been utter disaster. Embarrassed, she could only run her hands over the front of her blue silk dress, as if to vainly smooth out the wrinkles of hard travel as she tried to settle her thoughts again and calm herself, but this time on the very purpose of their current journey.

With her heart racing, but also with as much outward calm that she could muster, Moiraine tilted her head to glance at Lan, and noticed that one of his hands held the hilt of the sword that hung at his hip, ready to spring into action if needed. Meeting his gaze, she shook her head, indicating for them to carefully make their way back and away from the patrolling Whitecloaks. There was no point in killing now, when they did not yet know how many Whitecloaks there were, and to what purpose. For all they knew, by killing the two of them, however silently, would arouse the suspicions of their comrades.

Lan nodded once as he began carefully working his way away from the Whitecloaks. She followed in his trail, holding her skirts so that she would not make any unnecessary noise. And it wasn't until the white of their uniforms was long lost in the darkness of the forest when Lan halted their retreat.

"Of all things I had expected to encounter so far from the Caemlyn Road, Children of the Light were certainly the last among them," he said to her, his voice still low as his eyes quietly scanned their surroundings. "If any of those boys are being held by the Children..." he let the thought fade.

"This is most unfortunate," said Moiraine levelly, though her eyes burned intently as she stared back in the direction of those Whitecloaks. "And it complicates matters."

There is little love between the Children of the Light and Aes Sedai. That the Children of the Light declared all Aes Sedai to be Darkfriends certainly left little room for friendship between them.

"Is he close?" asked Lan quietly.

"He is," she said, a frown creasing her face as she concentrated.

"Where?"

Moiraine looked back at him, her face a mask of calmness as she held up her arm to point him in the direction she sensed the boy to be. "No more than two hundred yards," she said flatly. "Don't do anything foolish."

Lan's quick nod was almost lost to the night as he vanished into the bush, though she could sense the disapproval over her final comment as he hurried in the direction she indicated. After all, was it not her own foolish and idle thoughts that had her nearly walk straight into the Whitecloak's arms? Frustration welled inside again her as she thought of her near fatal error. It made her shiver in the night, and though she did not feel the cold as others would, she could not help but wrap her cloak about her tightly as she tried to calm herself while listening for any foreign sounds approaching her.

She was determined that she would not allow herself to be caught off-guard like that a second time.

She would not let her mind wander again over the passions of her Warder.

Time passed unaccounted as she waited for Lan, reaching out to him as he scouted before them. But as always, she could do little to discern his individual thoughts. Only his steely-hard determination shone through, though she sensed grimness within it as well, a feeling that bode ill going forward. It weighed on her. The more serious Lan became when examining a situation, the more dangerous the mission.

She could feel Lan returning from whence he came and her eyes turned to look into his as he drew himself quietly from the darkness. "Well?" she asked calmly, though her heart was still pounding within her as soon as she beheld his grim, but unreadable expression.

He did not answer. Instead, he indicated for her to follow him. Wordlessly she allowed herself to silently pursue him. For she had long learnt that in these matters, Lan knew better than she, and that it was perhaps more prudent to acknowledge his orders rather than question it.

They wordlessly travelled north and east, careful not to leave any sign that would be able to betray their passing. Even the slightest ruffle of her skirts garnered a disapproving glance from Lan, though sensing her current state of mind, he held his tongue. After some time, she realized that they were ascending a small rise, though the trees and undergrowth did not ease their passing.

At last, they had reached Lan's desired spot near the top of the rise. His movements slowed suddenly and he looked at Moiraine, indicating that she must approach the top of it slowly and with care. Falling to a crouch, he sidled up close to Moiraine. "You should only be there for a few moments, enough for you to see what it is we must do." She gave him a curt nod before she slowly advanced to the crest of the hill, her staff held before her in both hands as she crept.

This time, she could not bite back the curse that hissed through her teeth, frustration boiling to the surface again as she took in the view beneath the rise. For before her were rows upon neat little rows of tents amid campfires. An army's camp if she ever saw one. And at the very center of it, where one expects the captain or commander of the unit rested, was where she sensed the boy.

She retreated from her vantage point back to where Lan stood, his face a mask of grimness. "There must be two hundred Whitecloaks in that camp, at least," he muttered darkly. "A full unit if I'm not correct. Apparently they are headed to Caemlyn with the intended purpose of looking upon the false Dragon Logain." He eyed Moiraine carefully. "I got close enough to the center of that camp to see that the wool-headed runt called Perrin is being held there. Him and the girl."

The curse that Moiraine uttered would have made Siuan Sanche proud, and even had Lan raising an eyebrow in her direction. "The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills," she said icily, her eyes blazing, her hand gripping her staff like a vice, "though I had hoped to find them without having to mount a rescue attempt. I expect that the Children are holding them captive."

She received a curt nod. "I can reach them without being seen," said Lan, "but once I release them, I cannot guarantee that we can make it out without drawing attention."

Moiraine gritted her teeth in annoyance. "And little good would come of any rescue attempt if it results in over two hundred Whitecloaks pursuing us to the gates of Caemlyn and beyond."

Lan could only nod again. "Chances are, we would be good as dead well before we make it to Caemlyn if we do," he said quietly. He turned his head towards the camp again, his eyes as dark and hard as black stone, his expression calm and forbidding. "But we also cannot leave them in the hands of the Children."

"What do you propose that we do then?" asked Moiraine.

Lan frowned, his face unreadable. "I can think of no other possible tactic but a routine shock and slip. I go in and attempt to sneak them out while you create a distraction."

"No." Lan stared at her, surprise present in his eyes at her quick rejection. "I have thought of it already. And there are too many, and too much is at stake to risk my distraction not being enough for you to sneak them out quietly, or risk a pursuit," explained Moiraine grimly to him. "We need to ensure that in the event that we do gain their unwanted attention that they cannot pursue us."

"What is it that you are proposing then?" questioned Lan, his expression appraising her expectantly.

"Two hundred men did not walk this far north of the Caemlyn Road," pondered Moiraine. "Where are their horse-lines, Lan?"

"I cannot cut both their horse-lines safely and recover the boy from the camp," said Lan severely. "Nor can you do the same while creating your distraction. Not without exposing yourself as Aes Sedai."

"I know," said Moiraine heavily, her eyes piercing into her Warder's with a knowing gaze.

Lan blinked as he suddenly realized what Moiraine was planning, before putting on a mask of stubborn denial. "No," he said flatly.

Moiraine gave him a stern glance. "Nynaeve has proven to be able to avoid notice when she is of a mind to," said Moiraine coolly. "And she is not a fool. Capable even, if stubborn as a mule." Moiraine's mouth tightened. "I do not like having to put our trust in someone as inexperienced as she either, but I see no other way."

"We'll find another way," seethed Lan darkly.

"The world's fate may rest on what happens tonight," snapped Moiraine, her frustration simmering to the surface once more. "And I will not risk being chased by Whitecloaks to the Spine of the World and beyond if only for the safety of this village Wisdom. She has proven to have some skill, ones that can be used here to benefit us all. Do you understand? We have no other choice."

The glare Lan gave her was cold and she noticed that he gripped on the hilt of his sword so tightly that his knuckles were whitening. For a moment, Moiraine thought that he would defy her direct order, and she stiffened for the possibility. Instead, he swiftly turned his back to hers and began heading back towards the horses and Nynaeve. Although perhaps stalked is the more appropriate term for which he walked into the night.

Moiraine sighed as she relaxed, allowing herself to sit upon the winter undergrowth of the forest while waiting for Lan to return with the girl. It has been a long time since she had last lost control of her temper so, especially at Lan. But lately, her temper has been only precariously held, since the tension and stress following the misadventures in Shadar Logoth. And between Lan and now the situation with the Whitecloaks, even now, she had only an uneasy hold on her temper.

She closed her eyes, feeling the heat of the bond at the back of her mind, the seething anger at the decision made. But there was no other choice. And it frustrated her how complicated his feelings had made this decision. Before, he would have done any that she would have asked without question. Now, he had all but refused to be rational about this. But then again, his feelings for her are themselves irrational. He thought it so, and he knew that Moiraine knew this as well.

"Whatever the ends, all that matters is that we succeed," she whispered to herself. "Everything is secondary to our quest."

A wise person once told her that. And as she opened her eyes to stare into the dark of the forest at night, she wondered if those words rang as true for him now than when he had spoken them.

TBC