e l ' N Y N A E V E

There was something unnerving about the Great Gallery. The tapestries of dead Kings and Queens of Malkier, Rhamdashar, and Aramaelle stared from the walls - watching, judging. They had in turn hair black as night, and as golden as a sunrise - yet every face was regal, powerful, immortal. Nynaeve could not imagine being one of them… and yet somehow, she was.

They were not all Mandragoran Kings, of course. There were Gemallens and Arrels immortalised in those walls, Kurenins and Venamars and Arovnis and more besides. It was worthiness that bound the monarchs of Malkier to the throne, not blood.

She noted those names to Maric, and smiled as he scuttled along behind her with his pen and paper. My little scholar, she thought amusedly. She had rarely witnessed a child so young so very eager to learn of his ancestors. Though he seemed to excel at all things he attempted, not history alone. He was growing out to be a very sensible young man, she was pleased to discover. Not like his bloody sister, she thought with a frown Silk and laces and flirting - those were her daughter's favourite pursuits of late. Elnore feasted on the splendour and attention her royal status bought her… while Maric shied away from it.

Most especially around those of the opposite gender, Nynaeve was quick to note. She remembered one particular occasion that demonstrated as much. On their last visit to Camelyn, one of Elayne's youngest - a pretty young goldilocks of an age with Maric – had cornered and kissed him, and Maric had spluttered a string of embarrassed courtesies and tumbled backwards into a brimming horse trough. The girls had giggled, Elnore had covered her face in a display of sisterly humiliation, and Nynaeve Mandragoran had thanked the Light her son was not another Mat Cauthon.

No, he is more like Lan,she reflected. And thank the Light for that! Maric had inherited – or perhaps mimicked - some of his father's grave solemnity, that much was obvious, yet he still managed to take great pleasure in noble pastimes – books and horses enthused him most, it seemed.

His fine black hair was growing longer now and though his voice had not yet broken, she knew it would soon. Then, one day not long after, he would wear the hadori, but it was for the men of the Kingdom to decide when. It all seemed very complicated. She had been Malkieri for so long now, and yet still their customs could surprise her.

Indeed, how soon to think of her son with hadori! He had not even seen his twelfth name day. Light, but how quickly they grow. It seemed only yesterday that she had birthed Maric. Fondly she remembered how he had gurgled and blinked on his first day of life, yet never uttered a single cry. His sister, on the other hand, had cried rivers and scarcely allowed her parents sleep a single night through for a year.

And now another comes. What new trouble will you give us? she thought wearily. Already the babe was driving Nynaeve's tastebuds wild enough to make her blush at supper. Though she had grown to enjoy the spicy Malkieri delicacies so enjoyed by Lan, her stomach was inclined to disagree with such foods during her pregnancy. And yet… anything she had desired in these past months, Lan had somehow brought her. The very best of husbands, she mused, smiling.

"Mother?" Maric called, startling her out of her thoughts. "Here is Grandfather."

Nynaeve hastened through the Gallery with as much grace as she could muster and went to stand beside her son. Really, the boy was growing far too fast for his own good! The top of his head was at a level with her chin.

She followed his gaze to the tapestry above their heads. Al'Akir and el'Leanna gazed back at her from the walls, unsmiling. It was the last trace of them in the world, a tragic story woven in thread, and it had been known to inspire silence in someone even of Elnore's temperament.

Maric, of course, was silent by nature, and Nynaeve smiled when she regarded the reverent look on her son's face. "He looks very regal, doesn't he?" she said to him. Maric nodded wordlessly, as though not daring to speak in the presence of the grave tribute to the last King and Queen of Old Malkier.

The first thing her husband had done when the tower had been rebuilt was find someone who knew his parents' likeness and commission tapestries. Nynaeve still remembered the first time he had looked upon them. His eyes had turned so cold… and the bond had welled with something akin to emptiness. He never knew them, she had thought then. He is seeing them for the first time.

How she had wanted to comfort him then! They would be proud of you, she had longed to tell him, but the words had never come. Nynaeve thought that his feelings about his parents would be a part of him she would never know.

Their lives had been full of sunshine these past sixteen years, watching their Kingdom and their children grow. Perhaps one day they would sit down and share the stories of their childhood. She could almost picture it. Nynaeve would tell him about the days spent tracking in the woods with her father, and Lan would tell her about Bukama. And yet… some memories were too painful to share, even with the one you loved most.

Maric was gazing at his grandfather, face filled with awe, but Nynaeve's eyes were more drawn to the tapestry of Leanna. The Malkieri Queen had been a woman of rare beauty and strength. But who was she before she became a Queen? Nynaeve could not help but wonder. Was she like me, just a girl, so ignorant of the world? Even in her likeness, there was sorrow in the Queen's eyes. How could she bear to give up her son? Nynaeve wondered, laying her hand on her swollen stomach. I could never be so brave.

Eager to see the latest commission to the gallery – which is why they had come to visit in the first place – Maric sought Nynaeve's permission to continue on with a hopeful glance, and scurried off when she granted it, leaving her alone with the former Queen.

"My Lady," Nynaeve said to her – for Queen did not feel right, not now – "I hope I have done well by you. I hope you deem me… suitable for your son, and your Kingdom. I was not born a noble, it is true. And I was born far from your lands. I am not brave… but given the chance… that is to say…" She did not seem to be making a very good case for herself. She took a deep breath. "You sacrificed yourself for your kingdom and your son. I hope I could do no less. And… I can promise you one thing above all others… that I will take care of him, my Lady. I owe a debt to your son, but more than this… I love him. I will not let him die."

As quick as that, the Leanna in the portrait seemed to be smiling. Nynaeve smiled back at her and touched the red ki'sain on her forehead.

The last in the Great Gallery was a grand tapestry, the most recent addition, its threads rich and vibrant. It showed her Lord husband ahorse, leading the newly formed Malkieri army into Tarmon Gai'don. Maric gazed upwards, his eyes shining with admiration.

"That was the same horse your father rode when I first laid eyes upon him," she told her son.

"Truly?" he asked, all astonishment.

"Yes. 'Mandarb' he was called."

Maric's eyebrows wrinkled together for a moment, before he ventured. "Is it… 'steel'? Or… 'blade'?"

"That's right, little scholar," she said, and touched his hair, so lightly.

"I'm not so little anymore, you know, Mother."

"I see that." She returned her gaze to Lan and Mandarb. "Though when we first met, Mandarb and I, we did not get on at all."

"He was temperamental," Maric grinned. "Like my Ashan?"

"Yes. Though after our first few meetings, we got on a little better. Thereafter I was glad to see him… mostly. He even… aided," – she would not say rescued – "me on some occassions." In truth, there had been countless situations in which she had been happy to see that old stallion.

"That is a story I have never heard," the Prince of Malkier remarked, a hopeful tone in his voice.

"Not yet," smiled Nynaeve.


---------------------------------------------------

THIS CHAPTER: I love the thought of Leanna meeting Nynaeve. Too bad it can never happen. Maybe I could do an AU one-shot some time.

NEXT CHAPTER: A flashback, involving Nynaeve, Lan and Mandarb! Gotta love that perky fun horse.

Discrepancy issues:

Some people asked about how the flashback ties in with the first chapter? My point was that Lan ended on the note 'Taking care of her is my duty, whether with her wishes, or against.' And in the flashback he obviously does go against her wishes.