Kudos, Dragon Boy

This is the best day ever

Hope it never ends

It's clean.

Natael imagined that every single male channeler in the world was presently either thinking, whispering or shouting these words. Taim was mouthing them silently right now, a look of awe on his face. He looked at least ten years younger.

"It's clean, Nate," he repeated aloud.

"I know."

"He did it. He really did it."

"Yeah, he did."

"And the world still stands. Demandred was wrong."

I was wrong, too. Natael had expected to die today more than any previous day, which was saying a lot. There was no lack for opportunity.

Taim suddenly grabbed hold of Natael's face with both hands and kissed him hard on the mouth. "Nate, do you understand what this means?" he said excitedly.

"Well… We won't go mad. I think." Or madder, at least. The consequences of al'Thor's feat were still a bit uncertain. Had he merely cleansed the taint, or had he also cured the madness that already affected some male channelers?

"We don't have to resign ourselves to a tragically early death in a few months or years. We can actually live, Nate. We can grow old…" He paused, looking into Natael's eyes. "Together, if you'd want that… I mean, obviously, at the beginning of our relationship, that wasn't in the cards… We pretty much expected to be dead at any moment… This is a different sort of commitment altogether, and I don't want to pressure you into anything, but…"

"Shush," Natael said, pressing an index finger against Taim's lips. "It's been five minutes, Taim. Take a deep breath. Relax. Enjoy the purity of saidin. Enjoy being alive. We don't have to make important decisions right this instant. We have all the time in the world to figure it out." He didn't feel pressured, though, or uncomfortable. A few weeks ago, hearing Taim say this would have likely caused Natael to flee in terror, but not anymore.

Taim nodded and pushed Natael's finger so he could speak. He sounded calmer, somewhat. "We need to be more careful, now that we have something to live for."

"Yes, we do. No more silly attempts at ambushing Demandred."

"We have to lie low," Taim concurred. "We can't afford to make waves. It would be a shame to die now, when there's suddenly so much hope for us. For our people. For the world."

"Agreed." He squeezed Taim's shoulder. "Come on, we should go."

"Go? But al'Thor is right there!"

"So?" Were they supposed to congratulate him on not blowing them all up to Oblivion?

"Why should we wait for Logain to find him and talk to him when we could do it right now?"

"Well…if we go to him, we'll have to tell him about the Aes Sedai. Logain doesn't know yet. He stands a better chance at getting help. Also, al'Thor doesn't like us, but he doesn't know Logain. He has no reason to dislike him."

Taim was frowning. The euphoria that had followed the cleansing was already fading. "He had no reason to dislike me, either, but he did so anyway, right from the beginning. Logain and I are both False Dragons and equally powerful, or near enough. Why should he prefer Logain over me?"

"Logain is very charismatic," Natael replied without thinking.

Taim's face turned to stone. "And I'm a sarcastic oaf. Yeah, that makes sense. Let's wait for Logain to save us, if he's so bloody great."

"That's not what I-"

"What is going on here?"

"Nothing!" Natael said automatically. It was a bad habit he'd picked up over the centuries. He turned to find Demandred waiting nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. "Ahem. Nothing, we're just…glad that…it all worked out in the end. We're alive! What a relief, eh?"

Demandred raised an eyebrow. "What about that, then?" He pointed downward to indicate a log-

He's not pointing at the log, you idiot. He's pointing at the dead body beside it.

Right. That. Natael glanced at Taim, but he seemed to have forgotten about it, too, until now.

"He attacked us," Natael hastened to clarify. "Threw fireballs at us, probably thinking that we were the enemy, but even when he saw who we were, he kept firing. We were merely defending ourselves."

It was mostly true.

Demandred glared at him a moment longer. "Can't say I'm surprised," he muttered eventually. "He was always a wild card."

Then, without warning, he balefired the remains of Corlan Dashiva.

"There. We can blame this on Lews Therin, like everything else." He grimaced. "At least something positive happened on this fateful day."

"But the cleansing of the taint… Is that not a good thing?" Taim asked. "The recruits we Turn won't go mad."

Demandred shrugged. "That never mattered. Insane or not, what is important is that they won't bolster the enemy's ranks. Most of the male channelers of the entire world will serve the Shadow, when Tarmon Gai'don rages."

Of the entire world. Did it mean that Demandred had found male channelers somewhere else than at the Black Tower? As far as Natael knew, the Seanchan killed their male channelers (and enslaved the female ones). But perhaps that was just a rumour. He hadn't met any of these Westerners, after all. He couldn't base his facts on hearsay.

More and more, Seanchan seemed to be the answer to the question of Demandred's whereabouts. Or perhaps the mysterious Land of Madmen? With a name like that, you'd expect it to be inhabited by raving male channelers…

"Anyway," Demandred said. "Playtime's over. Let's return you two to the Black Tower before you do something stupid." He smirked. "Judging from your expressions, I see that it's precisely what you intended to do."

Natael and Taim were still holding the Source. They exchanged a look. It was two against one, this time. No trickery. Demandred must be there in the flesh, if he'd used balefire.

"Go ahead, make my day," the Chosen murmured. "Please. Any reason to be rid of you as permanently as Aginor. Moridin will be cross, but it'll be worth it. You're exhausting, and I have better things to do than babysit you."

They'd just promised to be more careful, not to take any unnecessary risk… It would be a terrible shame indeed, to die the same day that the Dragon Reborn had saved them all.

Natael sighed and released saidin. Taim imitated him, though he seemed to be hoping to drill a hole through Demandred with his eyes.

"Atta boys." Demandred shielded them and opened a gateway. "Go on. I'll modify the Dreamspike again. No Travelling for you until I have some sort of guarantee that you won't try to screw me over. Again."

Natael should have listened to Taim; they should have gone straight to al'Thor when they had the chance. It was too late now. If he yelled to draw the Dragon's attention, Demandred might harm the lad. Judging by the sounds and screams they'd heard while the battle raged half an hour ago, al'Thor had lost several men and women already, and they would all be tired. They couldn't risk it.

They had to trust that Logain would succeed where they had failed.

"This is probably the best day we've ever had at the Black Tower," Natael commented. Taim and he were sitting side by side on a dais, in two large chairs.

Well, thrones, really. There were carved dragons on the armrests. One of their newest recruits was a master woodworker.

"Not a single casualty," he went on. "The taint is gone. Dashiva's dead, and we weren't punished for it. We're unharmed. We're alive." Really, things couldn't get much better than this. Except, of course, if the Light was victorious in the Last Battle.

They'd returned to the Black Tower to find utter chaos, but it was the good sort of chaos – people dancing in the streets, men and women kissing unabashedly, some laughing, some crying with relief and happiness, all of them cheering… If Taim and Natael didn't know any better, they might have thought that everyone had gone insane while they were gone.

They didn't have the heart to even try to restore some semblance of order. The men and their loved ones deserved a break. Instead, they had opened several kegs of ale and improvised a little celebratory feast. The guards at the gate were relayed every hour, so that everyone could participate. The few men who had been designated to feign having been Turned were also allowed to take a break. Demandred was gone, and there was likely going to be an official Chosen meeting to debrief their failure to foil al'Thor's plans. He wouldn't come back that day.

"I wish we could have talked with al'Thor…" Taim murmured.

Natael sighed. "I know, I know. It's my fault, sorry. I should have listened to you."

"There's no need to apologise. Anyway, he might actually make an appearance, don't you think? If there ever was an occasion to show up at the Black Tower, it's today…"

"Do you really think so?" Natael said sceptically. After all, the lad had not bothered to give them so much as a heads-up. Or to request their assistance. If al'Thor had tasked them to guard him while he cleansed saidin, they would have had a great excuse not to pretend to disrupt his plans.

Though to be fair, they had not pretended very hard… They'd showed up. They'd realised that trying to get close to Shadar Logoth would get them killed. Whoever was guarding the Dragon Reborn, they were numerous and some of them were linked. And at least one of them was in possession of a sa'angreal – almost certainly Callandor. It was a suicide mission. Moridin had to know that, and Demandred, too. They couldn't possibly expect them to succeed in preventing al'Thor from accomplishing his goal.

Was that why Demandred had been so magnanimous regarding Aginor's death? Or had he been hoping for such a happy accident? It really was an accident. Taim and Natael had not recognised the Chosen in the dark, and Aginor must have assumed that they were part of al'Thor's retinue. When he'd attacked them, they'd retaliated in self-defence, as anyone would have.

They'd kept attacking when they realised it was Dashiva, but no one would ever know that.

Demandred was apparently already set on getting rid of the competition. The Last Battle would begin soon indeed.

"Well, he did this mainly for our sake, didn't he? For all male channelers. Since most of them are here at the Black Tower…" Taim shrugged. "It's a logical assumption that he'll want to celebrate with us."

"Our sake, or his?"

Taim glanced at him. "In all fairness, his sake and that of the world are closely related. And we are part of the world…"

"I guess you're right." Natael whistled softly through his teeth. "I still can't believe it. He really did it."

They'd been repeating the same words over and over, just like everyone else: I can't believe it. It's clean. He did it. He really did it. We're saved.

Essentially, their recruits seemed to expect the Last Battle to be a mere formality, now. They thought they were invincible, all of a sudden.

Taim had already set an hour the next day to remind them all that the worst was yet to come, that the fight was far from over and that they shouldn't let their guard down. Or their hopes up. Natael thought that was a bit harsh but, after a night of drinking, dancing and carousing, he had a feeling that the reminder would be necessary. This was but a brief respite.

They might still all die during Tarmon Gai'don.

"Why the gloomy face?" Taim asked quietly. He put his free hand on top of Natael's. The other one was holding a cup of water – no wine for M'Hael tonight. Someone had to be sober, he'd insisted, because tonight would be a perfect opportunity to attack the Black Tower. The enemy could take advantage of the celebrations to take them by surprise. The enemy being the Aes Sedai, of course.

As a show of support, Natael had promised not to drink, either. It was one of the most challenging things he'd ever done, going an entire day and night without wine.

"Nate? Come on, you're the one who told me to relax. Enjoy the fun while it lasts."

"I'm fine, it's just… This is great, but… I thought I'd be happier about it, I suppose. More…relieved. I mean, there's no way of knowing the long-term effects… What if we still go mad, because we've channelled the taint at any point in our lives? What if, once you've touched it, once it's gotten into your brain, it's too late? What if the only people who are truly saved are the ones who haven't been born yet, or haven't seized saidin yet, or-"

"Or perhaps we're already mad, and we're having a collective hallucination," Taim remarked with the hint of a smile. "Perhaps we're dead and none of this is real."

"Are you trying to out-doom me?" Natael demanded, feeling somewhat offended. Being overdramatic was his thing!

"I can't tell if you translated a word from the Old Tongue literally, or if you just made it up…"

"I'm being serious, Taim. Aren't you worried that-"

"I'm less worried today than I've ever been in my entire life. Well, in my adult life, at least," he amended. He cocked his head sideways, to indicate the people rejoicing. "Look at them. Whatever happens next, they have known at least one day of pure happiness in their lives. A day where everything was perfect: they were alive, their loved ones were healthy, they thought they would live in eternal bliss… Even a few days ago, that would have been impossible. No matter how optimistic and cheerful their nature, the threat of their impending madness and death, the fear of leaving their families to fend for themselves, were always hanging over their heads. Look at them, Nate," he repeated with ferocious intensity. "Even if al'Thor defeats the Dark One and saves humanity, this is the day they will remember. The day they learned that they wouldn't accidentally harm or kill their friends, spouses or children. The day they found out that they had something to live for after all, that it wasn't all in vain. Because sure, fighting for the Light is noble, fighting to give your descendants a chance at a better world is honourable, but what's the point in fighting when you know you may not live a month or year past the day of our ultimate victory to enjoy it yourself?"

"You might want to write this down and use it for your speech tomorrow," Natael noted.

Taim chuckled. "Oh, it won't quite as heartening as this. They'll be hungover; I'll have to keep it short and sharp to retain their attention."

"Aren't you even worried about an attack? You said… When the Aes Sedai find out what happened..."

"They won't believe it until they have concrete proof," Taim replied with a bitter smirk. "They won't want to believe it. Think about it… What purpose does the Red Ajah have now?"

"Mm. I hadn't thought about that." Chiefly because he didn't care. Most Aes Sedai were useless anyway. Moiraine Damodred, the majestic, selfless heroine who had sacrificed her life to rid the world of Mierin Eronaile, was an exception.

"Besides, our pal Barid would warn us if they planned to attack," Taim added. "He seems to know everything that's happening everywhere at all times…"

"Speaking of, do you think that he, or perhaps someone else…eliminated our eyes and ears? Because we haven't heard anything of import lately."

"Either that, or he's intercepting our messages and giving us whatever he deems needful. He wants to isolate us, to prevent us to seek outside help. We can only hope that he won't catch up to Logain…"

"It's funny but, ever since he left, you've come to call him Logain like all the rest of us…"

Taim scowled at his water. "Feels more natural," he muttered.

"M'Hael!" one of the Dedicated called. "Won't you dance?"

"Yeah!" another recruit shouted. "My lord, you must join us! Show us how it's done in Saldaea!"

"The sa'sara!" one of the spouses demanded. The call was picked up by several men and women, who were already quite inebriated.

Natael couldn't help but feeling left out. It wasn't that he wanted to dance with these tipsy bumpkins, but-

"Ghraem, why aren't playing any music? Of all the times to choose to be quiet…"

Now everyone was chanting both their names.

"Do you know the sa'sara?" Natael whispered.

"What?" Taim sputtered. "Of course not! It's a dance for women! How would I…" His cheeks grew redder with every word. "It's ridiculously inappropriate."

The chanting continued. Natael unstrapped his travel-sized harp; he'd had a feeling that it might come in handy tonight. "A private demonstration for me later, then," he said with a wicked grin. "But you should come anyway. Dance however you want. Have a drink, for goodness's sake. Let's forget about everything that is wrong in the world and enjoy the most monumental day in the history of the Third Age, shall we? Let's make it count. Just like any other day, it might be our last."

"Nate?" Taim spoke quietly into the silence of their room.

They were in bed, Natael's head resting against Taim's chest. It was almost dawn. They had not slept a wink, but Natael felt strangely energised. He was ready to face the day – the first day of a new era, one that would belong to male channelers as much as female ones. The Aes Sedai's dominion was over.

"Yes, dear?"

"About what I said earlier… I didn't mean to scare you. I don't expect us to be together forever, of course. That's silly. We're both going to live a very long time, if we make it past the Last Battle. I just wanted to say, it's fine if you don't feel the same way. I couldn't ask that of you." He snorted. "Come to think of it, this relationship is only what, a few weeks old? Has it even been a month yet? I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm sorry. Please don't make a run for it."

Natael thought it over for a moment. "There's nowhere I would rather be than here, with you. I can't promise I'll always feel this way… Who knows what the future will bring? But for now, I'm quite happy to be here. And to stay here. As long as you'll have me."

"I wonder what horrible thing is about to happen," Taim murmured.

Natael moved to look him in the eyes, scowling faintly. "What do you mean?"

"When we say cheesy things like that to each other, something terrible usually follows immediately afterwards. Demandred pays us a visit, a bunch of Aes Sedai commit mass suicide… You know, that sort of things."

Natael nodded. "True, true. I expect an actual dragon to burst into the room at any moment and eat us alive." He laughed suddenly. "Have you noticed how we seem to take turns at being utterly frantic and then reassuring the other? Isn't it adorable? We make such a good team."

"The best team. If we could be bothered, we could take over the world."

"Yeah, but that sounds like an awful lot of work." He nuzzled up against Taim's neck. "I'd rather stay in bed until a dragon or Demandred inevitably interrupts us."

"I'd rather it were al'Thor, for once," Taim grumbled. The lad had not showed up at all.

Reluctantly, Natael leaned back, resting on one elbow. "Have you considered the fact that perhaps he tried to visit, but was held back by the Dreamspike? For all we know, he comes by regularly and just can't Travel inside."

"I doubt it. He would have found a way in the moment he realised he couldn't Travel, don't you think? He would have at least contacted us to demand an explanation. Don't make excuses for him," Taim chided. "He's achieved something incredible yesterday, and we're all very thankful for it, but that doesn't make up for what he hasn't done… Namely, keep an eye on us. Make sure that this male channelers army of his was in good hands and not perniciously being claimed by the Shadow."

"Again, we chose not to involve him," Natael reminded him. "But I agree with you. He should have paid more attention to us. I really hope that Logain will get to him soon."

"Logain must have noticed the ginormous beacon that the Dragon lit up yesterday… He will track him down easily now. A few days, a week at most… He'll be back with help in no time." He didn't sound as confident as his words.

"Wait and see," Natael said. "That's all we can do. And I know just the way to pass the time until Logain returns…" This time, Taim didn't interrupt him.

In fact, for once, no one did.