A/N: Yay! Another WoT fic! Knife of Dreams spoilers, here. This makes me happy. Another oneshot, I'm afraid. I hope you all like oneshots, because you're going to see a lot of them from me. Heh. Mat/Tuon, this time. Not entirely certain when this happens, only that it is sometime when he is married to Tuon. In 'Lise time.
Mat had thought that things might be easier with Tuon after he was married. Light! Him! Married! He could hardly believe how much things were changing. First modesty, now this. He had sworn never to get married, and had always scorned those puffed up fools that called themselves noble. And now he was both. Leashed and taught to sit by some Light forsaken Seanchan woman. She was pretty, though. And the bloody Prince of bloody Ravens, to boot. Walking through the halls of what had been Queen Tylin's palace, he kicked viciously at the base of a column, and regretted it, cursing as he clutched the injured toe.
"What on earth are you doing kicking the columns, Toy?"
Mat winced. She hadn't stopped calling him that, unfortunately. Not when they were alone, anyway. At least she had the grace not to do in front of the rest of the Seanchan. He couldn't stand any of them, with all their courtesy and bowing and ideas about "seeing moss" or something. He didn't understand any of that. Releasing his toe and putting some weight on the offended foot gingerly, he turned toward her, making his voice as dry as he possibly could. "Just testing their strength, Tuon." He resisted the urge to call her Precious. He was not going to play her games anymore. He was sick of it.
"That's very silly, Toy. You can hurt yourself that way."
"No, really?" Mat said, gritting his teeth. "And I told you not to call me that, Precious." He couldn't resist this time, not when she put that emphasis on Toy. She was right back to shaving her head everyday and growing her fingernails a foot long. Bloody Seanchan customs. She was prettier with hair, and the nails were mildly frightening. But at the shocked look on her face, he regretted bringing up the old nickname. Or maybe not. He was probably offending dozens of wool-headed Seanchan traditions by calling her Precious. But she was not going to get away with calling him Toy for much longer. Bloody Seanchan and their bloody honor. He was in a bad mood and angry at everyone, but mostly the Seanchan. And the bloody Dragon Reborn Rand al'Thor, for getting him into this mess.
Tuon wiped the surprise off her face, looking more than a little annoyed. He gritted his teeth and prepared for an outburst – Light, the woman had a temper like a tiger – but instead she laughed and wrapped her arms around him, leaning against his chest. Mat stared down at her. Women. He would never understand them, and most of all, this one.
"Kiss me, Toy," she said. He scowled, and pushed her off. He was not in the mood to have his brain tangled around a woman's finger, at least, not this early in the morning. Women seemed to find it second nature scrambling your brains, especially Tuon. Bloody woman.
"No thanks," he said, as politely as he could manage. Which wasn't much. "I'm sure you have some Seanchan matters of state to attend to. Bloody people," he muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough, apparently.
"What was that, Toy?" Tuon said dangerously.
"Oh, nothing," he said quickly. He didn't like being on the receiving end of her tempers, and this would certainly merit one. "I'd better be going. Patrolling the grounds or sipping wine or whatever it is you bloody nobles do." He didn't even care about watching his language in front of her. She hardly seemed to mind, anyway. He moved away quickly, before she could snag him again and drag him off to one of those parties. Last time he had gone to one, he had done nothing but stand around and talk of dull things. Light, what did nobles do with all that time?
Tuon laughed softly, her voice following him down the halls. "It is too bad that I cannot make you da'covale now that you are Prince of Ravens, my husband. You would look very fine in the robes of property."
He flushed and sped up his step. Thank the light she would not. He had seen those robes that the da'covale wore. They were hardly anything! "Blood and bloody ashes," he muttered. Easier? Light, marriage seemed to be even worse than war.
At least she did not hunt him like Queen Tylin had, back when he had been her plaything. He had been lucky to escape that woman, if only for this one with a leash wound around his neck. Sometimes she would turn up at inopportune moments – like the incident with the column – but that seemed to be purely coincidence. Though he wouldn't put it past her that most of the spies tailing after him through the palace were hers, stationed there just so she could show up at unfortunate times.
Such as the day when he had attempted to have a quick cuddle with one of the nicer maids, one of the few that had made fun of him more rarely than most when he had been Tylin's duckling. It was harmless flirting, of course, but Tuon had come sweeping down on them with a face like a thundercloud. He still wore the bruises from her mad attack. The woman fought better than some of his men! If he unleashed her on a gholam, he would have placed his bets on her. Not that he would put her in danger, of course. But he hadn't seen the serving woman since, and had an uncomfortable feeling he had gotten her dismissed. And now all the women wouldn't give him as much as a smile. Poor women. Bloody Tuon.
In fact, perhaps it was best to assume that coincidences simply didn't happen around Tuon. After all, she had all those Seanchan groveling at her feet now that she was the bloody Empress of the Nine Moons, or whatever it was her bloody title had changed to. He wished he'd never met her, however. Well, maybe he was happy that he had – she could be pleasant enough, when she wasn't trying to boss him and behaving as if she already owned the whole world. She was arrogant enough before this…promotion…to Empress, and she had only gotten more full of herself afterward. Someone need to puncture her inflated head before she simply up and floated away.
Mat barked a laugh when he thought of Nynaeve growling at him about how conceited he himself was. Perhaps he could be a bit…overconfident at times, but Nynaeve took puncturing self-importance to extremes. She would be the one to puncture Tuon, all right. Or more likely they would end up in a fist fight before the end of the day, with both their tempers. No, they would not get along too well. Perhaps her and Elayne?
He laughed again. They would be a perfect pair, the two of them with their chins up and their noses in the air, so high and mighty on their thrones. He could just picture them, each bragging about the size of their respective palaces. They would probably end up with fists too. Light, Tuon probably couldn't get along with anyone that she couldn't boss around! He scowled. Besides, Elayne would probably demand to be made gai'shain or whatever it was, with all those crazy Aiel ideas floating into her head via Aviendha. The Light burn that woman. She seemed to think that her knife was the best solution to anything. And that game – Maiden's Kiss. Light, the Aiel were barbarians, every one of them. But mostly the Maidens.
He smiled wryly as he made his way through the expansive palace to his new rooms. Of course, the flaming Prince of Ravens couldn't have just an ordinary room. The one he had now was nearly as big as his house in the Two Rivers! All the women seemed to be going mad – Tylin, Tuon, Elayne, Aviendha, Nynaeve – she had gotten even more of a temper, if that was possible. Perhaps it was something about Altara. In the water maybe, that gave everyone who lived in this Light-forsaken country hot blood. Or maybe it was a sign of the Last Battle. He smiled in spite of himself at the last thought, then shivered.
It didn't even make him flinch anymore, thinking about Aiel or the Last Battle or the bloody Dragon Reborn. Only a couple years ago, he had thought that the Seanchan were traveler's tales, the Dragon was some sinister children's tale, and similarly with the Aiel and the Last Battle. And now here he was – married to a Seanchan women, traveling and fighting with and against Aiel, preparing for the Last Battle, and the Dragon Reborn turned out to be his best friend. Who would have guessed that the Dragon would be a shepherd from a little farming village? It seemed… mprobable. Before he had left home, he had never used words bigger than five letters, and had no idea what a battle looked like. Now everything had changed, and he found himself the leader of an entire bloody army. With dead, educated man's memories floating around in his head. Blood and bloody ashes, he thought fiercely.
He found himself at the door to his rooms. Thank the Light he had managed to talk Tuon out of giving him his own personal guard. He would have certainly looked a fool, with a troop of those grim-faced Deathwatch Guards tailing him wherever he went. He scowled slightly and opened the door. Though, he thought wryly, with a name like "Deathwatch," who can blame them for grimacing?
Then the door opened, and his small smile faded. He slammed the door behind him and scowled at the small figure sitting, legs daintily crossed, on the edge of his bed, examining a coat of his. "What-" he started to say hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "What under the Light are you doing here?" he hissed.
"You have a tear in your coat," she noted calmly. "You should have that fixed. It does not do for a Prince of Ravens to have a torn coat."
Mat spluttered. Women seemed to think that if they changed the subject often enough, men would forget what they were complaining about. The trouble was, it seemed to work. "Answer my question," he said, struggling to keep his voice more even. He would not show Tuon how much her constant tagging along nagged at him!
"I am merely watching over my interests," she said, smoothing her skirts slightly. "I want to make sure that you don't forget who you belong to."
"I don't belong to anyone!" Mat said. Tuon looked a little amused, and he lowered his voice. "You can't boss me around anymore, Tuon. Aren't I on equal footing with you now, now that I'm Prince of the Crows or whatever it is?"
Tuon glanced up, her eyes glittering dangerously. Her voice was dangerously soft. "Master Cauthon, I have the pleasure of informing you that no one is equal to the Empress. That includes her husband. So I can order you around as much as I please. Now, shut that mouth and stop spouting such foul words to your wife."
Mat closed his gaping jaw, even angrier now. He was ready for a full blown argument. "Well, do you have to follow me around the palace like…like a duckling?"
Tuon's face darkened. "You are the duckling, Toy. Not me."
Mat scowled at her fiercely. "Remember Teslyn and Joline? I ought to turn you over my knee and spank you silly like the little girl you are. Pouting because your pet won't obey you anymore. Well, I'm sick of being dragged around by you women. First Tylin, now this! I'm not your tame dog, Tuon – no, nor Tylin's, either!"
Suddenly she was smiling, her arms around his waist. "You are so handsome when you are angry," she said softly, and reached up to pull his head down for a kiss. But he would not be pacified like an insolent child, calmed by a cuddle and a kiss. He pushed her away, so hard that she fell back against the dresser, nearly losing her balance.
She stood up, her face more angry than he had ever seen it. "You take this too far, Toy. Independence is one thing, but insolence is entirely another. I will not have it from you!"
"And I won't have it from you," Mat said through gritted teeth. "Get out. Get. Out. Of. My. Room. Now."
Tuon's hands were on her hips, her eyes blazing. "No! This is my palace! You get out, and don't come back until you can apologize for your insolence to the Empress of Seanchan!"
"Don't wave your titles in my face, Precious," he hissed.
"I'll wave them all I need to," Tuon said coldly. "Get out! Go! I don't want to see your face for another second!"
"Fine!" Mat yelled back. "I should have been out of here long ago!" He grabbed his ashanderei and the small traveling pack that was still packed. "And I won't be back," he yelled over his shoulder as he exited the room.
A couple pieces of porcelain and china flew over his shoulders and smashed against the wall. He could hear Tuon screaming something after him, but he blocked it from his ears. He was leaving Altara, for good.
But that evening found Mat in a tavern, downing several mugs of beer. He tried dancing with some of the girls, but he wasn't in the mood. He felt sour and melancholy all over. You got your freedom, man, something muttered. Isn't that what you wanted?
But somehow he was not sure that it was.