Disclaimer: I own nothing, it belongs to RJ and Brandon Sanderson and whatever, and I know RJ didn't like fanfic but I couldn't resist
She wore gray, like rain, like old gravel paths, like eyes that wouldn't open again.
And I wore black. Like the night, like spilled ink, like stones at the bottom of a river.
Walking through the halls of the Tower, she was a warrior queen, and I, her sword, tried and true. I was a shield, too, and a dagger, and an army, and anything else she needed me to be. I was her Warder, I reminded myself, pulling my cloak closer, hiding the black, the spilled ink, the stones.
And as she turned the corridor and I heard the silent footsteps of the spy, I caressed the hilt of my sword.
I was her Warder, and I was a bird sensing danger.
The spy turned out to be wearing blue, like the ocean when you're drowning. But I knew that blue was only a cover, the sky when you're falling. She wore black when she thought no one of consequence could see, black darker than what my cloak covered, but my Aes Sedai had seen. She had seen, and she would pay, I knew. But not today.
Today I was her Warder and I was a snake, lying in wait.
The spy laughed but I felt the bond tremble with fear, and I knew the spy had seized the Power. I drew my sword as quietly as I could. The spy seemed unaware of my presence. A mistake.
I was a Warder, I was a wolf, tensed to attack.
As the bond cried in alarm, and the spy raised her hand, I struck, strong and swift.
There was blood, a lot of it. Red, like a merchants finest silk, like roses surrounded by thorns, like anger. It stained the gray swirling around my Aes Sedai as she turned to face me. It stained my hands as I dropped my weapon, and it would've stained my clothes, had they been other than black, like crying crows, like ashes, like war.
She laid a hand on my cheek, whispering gratitude. I leaned into her caress. I was her Warder, and I was a battle horse, acknowledging fondness.
She kept going, through a maze of corridors, and I followed, watching, waiting. The bond radiated warmth, but it hid worry, too. She wished to reach another sisters room. A sister she could trust. We quickened our pace simultaneously.
We met few others on the way, and they seemed to cower from us. They saw the blood on my hands, and on the gray, and they cowered. The servants, the workman, even a few sisters. Only my brother Warders seemed to understand, and they kept their distances respectful. I was her Warder, and I was a lion, prowling in my own.
We reached the rooms without incident and a knock, a bow, a nod, and a hurriedly whispered conversation later, I was whisked inside. The sister wore green, I noticed, as my Aes Sedai channeled the blood stains out of her dress. Green, like shady canopies, like unripe fruit, like soft moss that padded the forest floor.
I felt my Aes Sedai take my hands. She dipped them in a water basin, and scrubbed out the blood. I watched her, and she looked up at me. Brown eyes that could've been gray, with a hint of gold, like the woods at sunset meeting the stars before dawn, like treasures hidden in tree trunks, like home.
She looked down again to dry my hands, and as she did, I gripped hers. She smiled at me, and stretched to place a kiss on my forehead, a butterfly landing. I leaned into her, my lips upturned, the bond warm with unsaid affection and concern.
I was her Warder, and I was only human, doing my best.