Disclaimer: I obviously do not own anything relating to the Wheel Of Time or Harry Potter. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am just a writer attempting to increase my skills with worlds and characters that I love.
Note: I have been a fan of both the Harry Potter franchise and WOT franchise for years, and now that Amazon Prime is making the Wheel of Time into an awesome show I felt like it was time to have a little fun with a crossover. I'll probably be introducing elements of both the books and the show, so strap in. Note: If you were a fan of Game of Thrones or the Witcher, then I highly recommend checking out the WOT show on Amazon Prime. It is beautifully realized and the more people that watch it now, the more likely it is to keep being filmed.
Part One - A Wizard In Emonds Field
The moon was full, and glaring down on the boy who lived as he walked through the dense foliage of the forbidden forest. The battle was on a temporary hold, but unless he went to meet his fate it would continue, and countless more innocent people would die. He couldn't let that happen.
He'd already opened the snitch, spoken to his fallen friends and family, and moved on. They had tried to reassure him, praise him, and let him know that they would be waiting for him, but he still despaired that this had to happen. He hated that he had to die. Hadn't he given enough for the world already? Why was his life the next to be taken?
All of these questions he'd asked himself over, and over, and over again on his long walk to his enemies camp. In the end, he couldn't ignore the truth of the fact that Dumbledore had known this was going to happen since Harry was a toddler. He'd heard the prophecy himself, worked out Voldemort was going to return, and set up a series of impossibly vague clues, all in the hope of bringing the chosen one to this moment.
Harry knew he should try to understand. Hell, he should try to forgive the old man as he was sure to have had his reasons for the things he'd done. But now, at the end of his life, he was seeing things with a cold, clinical, detachment. He saw the progression of his life and was appalled. He'd been placed with the Dursleys, and abused for the entirety of his childhood, and the presence of Mrs. Figg meant the bearded bastard must have known about, and allowed, it. This fact, paired with the knowledge that he had been mocked and ridiculed throughout his Hogwarts career with no help from the faculty, led to a stunning conclusion. Dumbledore had wanted him beaten down, he'd wanted him depressed. And why not? A happy and well adjusted person was certainly less likely to be willing to basically commit suicide for the good of others.
The more the boy looked at his life, the more pieces started to fit into place. Mostly incompetent or evil defense teachers so Harry would never be good enough to actually challenge the dark lord. Never stepping in to stop the slanderous news stories, so the entire country stood by for his mistreatment. Convincing the Order of the Phoenix and his own friends to keep him in the dark at every opportunity so he could never make plans of his own. Dumbledore had known he had to die, and he had set up every aspect of his life to make sure he did. That bastard.
The clearing was approaching now, and he could hear the dark lord monologuing to his followers. Why did the man always monologue? It was almost like he was trying to check every box on the villains checklist. His voice however trailed off as Harry entered his clearing. Hagrid was there, chained and gagged to a great tree. The blood on his face showed he'd been badly beaten, but he was still aware enough to increase his struggle to escape once he saw him. In spite of how empty Harry felt, he smiled at the big man. He truly was his first real friend, and here at the end, he'd be his last.
"Harry Potter." Voldemort rasped, his wand at his side. "Come to die." The wand snapped up in a flash, "Avada Kedavra!" From the wand a green bolt of light shot like lightning and impacted Harry's head. Then the world went white.
The World In Between
Harry awoke slowly, as if from a dream. As he got his bearings he marveled at how right Sirius had been about that fact. He was on his feet now and he could just make out some features of his surroundings. There were rails on the floor, a bench against the wall, and a board that seemed to display departure times. He was in a train station. The afterlife was a train station?
A figure materialized out of the white nothingness. He was tall, bearded, and wore an ostentatious blue robe.
"Harry my boy, you did it." Albus Dumbledore spoke with reverent satisfaction as he reached the boy he'd raised as a lamb for slaughter. He was so satisfied in fact that he never noticed the fist coming at his face until it impacted with, and broke, his nose all over again.
As he fell, Harry jumped on top of him and rained blow after blow onto the aged man's face. He felt more bones break, cartilage snap, and flesh tear under his constant assault, but he kept going until the unrecognizable thing beneath him was a shuddering, gasping, sobbing mess of flesh, blood, and piss. The flesh of the boy's hands was shredded by his work, but he welcomed the pain.
Part of him expected to feel bad about what he'd just done, or at least somewhat regretful. But he didn't, instead he just felt contempt. Contempt for a man that was given responsibility for a small child, and single handedly consigned said child to a life of suffering. He had deserved what the boy had dished out and more.
Deciding to stop admiring his handiwork, Harry stood up, spit on his former mentor for good measure, and looked around some more. A shrill whistle alerted him to an incoming train car, and to the dark misshapen being lying on the tracks before it. The strange being was crushed beneath its wheels with an unearthly scream. Then all the sound that could be heard was the squeal of brakes and slowing wheels upon the tracks.
The vessel stopped before him, and the doors opened to reveal a dark, hooded, form with a great scythe in its hand. The being said nothing, but a quick jerk of its head showed that it wanted Harry to enter its car.
Seeing as he was in the afterlife, and this being looked like every example he'd ever heard of the grim reaper, Harry nodded his acquiescence and started to move forward.
"H-H-Harry," a laughably weak voice stuttered from behind him. The boy turned to see the once proud Dumbledore crawling on the ground to try and reach him.
"H-Harry please…forgive…" The old man's voice cut off in a weak cough of blood and spittle.
For his part, the chosen one was not exactly in a listening mood. Choosing the words that would best exemplify his current feelings, he said, "Go fuck yourself Albus Dumbledore." and took the last steps necessary to board the train. It started pulling away immediately, so he never saw the flames that erupted beneath his former headmaster at his dismissal, nor did he notice the skeletal arms that dragged the man into the molten depths. He just saw an endless expanse of white out of the windows, and the reaper, moving to sit behind a massive desk that he laid his scythe across.
He gestured to a chair that laid across from him, and Harry rushed to take it. He had no interest in pissing off death after all. The moment his ass hit the seat, the reaper reached into a drawer and pulled out a file.
"Hadrian, Harry, James, Potter." The beings voice was like freshly ground gravel. Rough, uneven, and unforgettable in its cadence. "The terms of your prophecy have been met. As a result, you have been offered a choice by the fates for your next step. You may pass on, go back to the world you've known, or be set up in a new world to start life again. Do you have questions about your options?"
Harry had many questions, most unrelated to that subject, but again, he didn't want to anger the man with the big scythe. "What happens if I don't go back to my world?"
"Nothing you'd need to worry about. As I said, you completed your part of the prophecy so Voldemort can be killed now. Neville Longbottom will kill the snake, and your other friends will finish the rest. I expect to be reaping Tom Riddle's soul within the next hour. Your friends will be saddened by your loss, but will eventually move on with their lives."
Mustering his courage to ask something he truly dreaded the answer to, Harry asked, "What happens to Hermione?" The two had become very close after Ron's disappearance in the woods, and eventually one thing had led to another. They'd woken the next morning with no regrets, and decided it was time to give a relationship a try. Things had escalated for them very quickly.
The reaper paused. "To deal with her grief, she'll throw herself into her work, and eventually go on to become the greatest minster of magic in a thousand years. She'll eventually marry a nice muggle man and they will adopt a daughter and a son. She'll name them Harriet and Sirius. In motherhood she will discover the truest joy of her life. But I should mention she will only raise those kids if you are gone."
Tears began to fall down the boy's face. "What about this new world?"
"You'll be reborn as a blacksmith's son in a small out of the way village. You'll have the chance to live again, make new connections, and perhaps find fresh love."
Harry took a moment to think about his options before making his decision. "I've done my time in my old world I think, and I'm not ready to pass on just yet." His eyes stared into the empty depths of the reaper's hood. "I'll choose rebirth."
From the depths of the dark, sterling white teeth sparkled. "I thought you might. Now, Riddle tried to cheat me, and you provided his soul. So in addition to keeping your memory in this new life I'm prepared to offer you a boon. What would you like?"
The boy didn't even need to think. "Could you make it so I'll be able to use magic in this world, without a wand."
The reaper nodded. "Show me your wand." When he did so, the specter instructed him to place it flat upon his forearm. Once he'd done that, a blue light flashed bright, and the magical stick was gone.
"I have fused your magical focus to your aura. All you must do to use magic from now on is focus and think. I've also taken the liberty of adding several new spells to your repertoire, including everything Riddle knew while he was alive. Since your actions led to his end, it is only just. Also, you're going to be in a wooded area so I've given you knowledge of herbs. Both will be of use where you are going. Additionally, I've insured you'll be called Hadrian there. It's the name your parents gave you and its time you use it properly. Please keep in mind, that you are going to be reborn as an infant. You will regain your consciousness as a one year old toddler. That means full knowledge of a life lived. Try not to give that away. It might cause issues."
Harry nodded and the reaper placed his, remarkably human looking, hand on his head. He said something in a language he did not understand, and then the world disappeared once more.
Emonds Field - Fourteen Years Later
"Hadrian," His father called from the house, "come in here."
Hadrian, formerly Harry, stopped pumping the bellows and turned to his younger compatriot. "Keep the coals hot Perrin. I'll be back soon."
The boy of nine nodded his ascent and started shuffling the coals into the hottest part of the furnace. As he left, Hadrian smiled. Perrin Ayebarra was a good lad. His parents had wanted him apprenticed as a blacksmith, and Hadrian's own father was looking for an extra hand in the forge. Hands had been shaken, and suddenly Hadrian had an assistant. The boy was quiet, but good with his hands, and he didn't mind a hard days work. For someone with as many chores as Hadrian had around the forge, he was a godsend.
He entered the house to find a pair of large pails and his father. Haral Luhan was a big man, with arms the size of canon balls. He'd run the forge by himself for years before his only son had been born, and it showed in his frame.
"How's Perrin shaping up in there son?" His voice was a healthy boom, capable of being heard over the beating of hammers on an anvil.
Hadrian smiled up at him. Sure he had memories of his past life, but Haral was truly the only father he'd ever known, and he never had a problem seeing him as his dad. He'd shown him love, compassion, and had all the tough conversations that a father was supposed to provide their son at the awkward stages of their life.
He had also worked to pass on his trade, and he'd been a tough but fair instructor in the forge. If Hadrian was to run it for his old man in his old age then he'd need the knowledge. Honestly, the dream of a simple life running the forge was heaven to him. He'd already experienced enough adventure for both lifetimes combined.
"He's learning fast pop. Are you sure you want him trained up right? He might end up our biggest competition."
The big man guffawed his laughter at the very idea. "The way he looks up to you boy, I don't think so. If he has his way, he'll be swinging that hammer beside you until he keels over from a bent spine."
He hefted the buckets over to him then. "Now, normally I'd have you throw the trash in the usual spot, but there have been strays sniffing around lately and I don't want them near our shop." Hadrian beamed at his father calling it 'our' shop. "So I'd like you to take these buckets and dump them in the woods a ways. Can you do it?"
In response, the young man flexed his muscled arms. Hard from years swinging hammers in the forge. "No problems here old man." He hefted the buckets with apparent ease and made his way toward the door. "I'll be back in no time."
"Old am I?" Haral huffed, "Just for that, you're washing the dogs tonight. Have fun with that."
As he he walked out the door and down the main road to the woods, the young man sighed. The dogs were always incredibly excitable when receiving their baths. He was in for a night of getting soaked.
It took him a good twenty minutes of stretching his stride to meet the forest's edge, and when he got there he just kept going. His family's trash could attract critters after all, and he didn't want to let them invade his town. So he walked farther in until he reached the creak. Once there, he upended his buckets contents on the banks and turned to head back home.
That's when he saw her. A girl he knew to be his own age. Dark skin, a heart shaped face, bushy hair let down free to hang on her back, a basket in her hand, and a very large knife at her waist. Nynaeve al'Meara, the wisdoms apprentice. Hadrian had seen her and the wisdom in town before, making their rounds to tend to those that were ailing. He'd wanted to speak to her then, and introduce himself, but sadly his nervousness with women in groups had followed him into this new life.
Except, she was alone now, so maybe he could try to introduce himself politely. He stepped forward, being sure to step on a few branches so she'd hear him and not think he was sneaking up on her. He got a few feet away from her and she turned to face him. Challenge clear in her eyes.
"Can I help you?" She asked calmly, but with a thin veneer of iron beneath.
Desperately hoping he wasn't sounding too eager, the young man said, "Sorry to bother you, but I'm Hadrian Luhan, and you're Nynaeve al'Meara."
She nodded once. "Indeed I am. What's your point?"
Hadrian floundered a bit, "There's no point really. I'd just seen you around a bit and I realized that I'd never said hi or introduced myself. This seemed as good a place as any."
The girl gazed sternly at him for a moment before seeming to come to a decision and nodding. She reached out her hand and shook his own. It's nice to meet you Hadrian, but I really must be getting back to work. The wisdom sent me out to try and find some Kingswill for a brew she is making. If I don't find some before dark I'll get a tongue lashing."
The boy nodded and was about to leave before a thought struck him. "Did you say you were having trouble finding some Kingswill?"
She nodded her ascent, with a look in her eyes like he was an idiot for making her repeat herself.
"Well I know where some is. Herb craft is something of a hobby of mine."
She blinked. "A blacksmith collects herbs as a hobby?"
He blushed. "Some of them are good for treating minor burns. In a forge it helps to have some of those on hand."
She seemed to accept that and said, "Where did you see this Kingswill?"
He gestured to another path. "It's this way. Just follow me."
She did so, and as they walked he couldn't help noting how at ease she was. How surely her foot found every step amongst the foliage, rocks, and brine.
"If you don't mind me saying, you seem very at home in these woods." He remarked.
"I don't mind it at all." She replied. "My father is a sheep herder, but he also helps to feed our family by hunting and fishing. He taught me to do the same since I was little so that I could help out."
Hadrian nodded. "That sounds a lot like my father. He's been teaching me the forge since I could walk so that I'd be able to assist him."
Nynaeve hid her smile with a huff of indignation. "The difference is you're a boy. So of course they want you in a forge. My father taught me, his daughter, woods craft, and everyone who heard about it looked at him like he had two heads growing out of his shoulders."
A confused look came over the young blacksmith's face then, "Why should it matter that you're a girl? Those are good and useful skills that your pop taught you. Everyone should learn something like that."
"Right!" Nynaeve exclaimed, the first real smile she'd shown him so far appearing on her face. It dazzled Hadrian like nothing he'd ever seen.
When he finally managed to look away he rubbed his hands nervously and said, "You have a really beautiful smile you know. I'm glad I got to see it." immediately the young man regretted his choice of words. What had he been thinking?!
But Nyneave didn't seem upset by the random comment on her beauty. Instead she seemed… pleased?
She pointed a ways up ahead where the shadow of a leaned over tree all but concealed a grouping of weeds with several petals on their sides. "Is that it?"
Hardly believing she'd seen the grouping at this distance, Hadrian nodded. "It is, you have good eyes."
"Comes with being a trained huntress. Now let's go gather those weeds and then we'll walk back to town together."
Only too happy to agree, Hadrian followed along. Although, in the back of his mind he was starting to draw some comparisons between Nyneave and Hermione. Both women were clearly intelligent, skilled, and more than a little bossy. Did he have a type?
After a good fifteen minutes of collecting herbs they made their way out of the forest and started the walk back to the village, chatting all the way. They discussed their families, lives, dreams, and respective training. The blacksmith couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken for so long a stretch. There weren't a lot of drawn out conversations in the forge after all.
Finally they reached the town and had to go their separate ways. Before that happened though, she grabbed his arm.
"You said you know a bit about herb craft. How much?" She asked nervously.
Puzzled at her tone, Hadrian answered, I can normally find the things I'm looking for if I have a good description. Why?"
The girl shuffled her feet a bit, "The Wisdom sends me out most nights to look for different herbs as a part of my training, but there are a lot I've been having trouble finding. Is there any chance you'd be able to come out some evenings and help me search?"
Feeling as if his pulse was going to shoot his heart out of his chest, Hadrian nodded. "I'd love to help. I work in the forge during the day, but the evenings I'm free. Should we start tomorrow?"
Nyneave gave him that smile again, and Hadrian found himself looking forward to the prospect of spending hours in the dark rooting around for weeds with her.
Three Weeks Later
Hadrian was packing up his tools for the end of the day and shutting down the forge when his father entered, closing the heavy leather tarp to the street behind him.
"Son," he began, "I think we should talk for a bit."
Not knowing what this conversation was to be about, but aware that he had to meet Nynaeve soon, Hadrian just nodded and said, "Okay pop, but is this going to be a long conversation? I was planning to meet someone soon."
The big man responded by waving a hand and pointing to a nearby set of stools. When his son sat on one, he pulled the other forward so that he could sit facing him.
As he settled on the creaking wood he said, "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Your mother noticed you've been leaving the house in evenings and traipsing around the woods. She was getting worried so she sent Perrin to go check on you. He said you were picking flowers with that al'Meara girl. Is there anything you want to tell me son?"
Hadrian mentally made a note have the younger boy fetch him a few pails of ore in the morning before he asked, "What do you mean pop?"
His father's face was deadly serious. "Look Hadrian, you're a young man, and believe it or not I remember what it was like to be one myself. So I know what it means to be picking flowers with a pretty girl, in the woods, at night…" He trailed off as if he was implying something. Something that made his son's face heat up once he figured it out.
"It's nothing like that pop." He reassured the older man. "We aren't romantically involved or anything. She's just been having trouble finding some herbs, and I know where to find them most of the time."
His father eyed him with a discerning look. "Aye, so you're not involved in that way. But I'm reckoning that you'd like to be. Am I right?"
Hadrian had never had this kind of conversation before, and he wasn't exactly sure how to handle it. The idea of talking about his potential love life was alien at best.
So he shuffled a bit in his seat and managed to stutter out, "Y-Yeah. I think so. She's smart, strong willed, and incredibly pretty. I feel… Seen, when I'm around her."
Instead of laughing out loud, as he feared he would, his father just nodded in understanding. "I felt the same way about your mother when I started to pursue her." He reached forward and gripped his son's shoulder in a sign of support and understanding. "But we were a bit older. You know you cannot truly court her, or ask for her hand, until her hair is in a braid right? To do so earlier would dishonor her and yourself."
Hadrian's shoulders drooped at those words. "Then what do I do pop? Stop seeing her? I can't do that." He raised his hand and pressed it to his chest. "She makes me feel so happy and warm, even when I'm just walking beside her in the woods."
The older man was nodding. "You're falling for the girl son. I understand that feeling all too well." His eyes darted to the house behind the forge. "I feel the same every time I look at your mother. For now, just focus on being her friend. She's the wisdom's apprentice, so she should be granted the right to wear her hair in a braid within the next few years. Stay a constant in her life, make her smile and laugh, and when you're both old enough, declare your interest. That's the best advice I can give."
Without warning, the big man reached out to pull his son into a tight embrace. "Neither your mother nor I believed you were doing anything inappropriate, but we thought it couldn't hurt to remind you how things are. I know how confusing your feelings can be when you're a young man."
Hadrian returned the embrace. After his previous life, there was just something comforting about a supportive father figure being present, and willing to offer support and comfort. The two held the hug for another minute or so before separating with much manly back slapping on both sides.
When they were done his father cleared his throat, "Now that you've shown interest in a woman, your mother wanted me to have that 'talk' with you again." Seeing his son about to bolt, the big man grabbed his arm and lowered him back to the stool. "I'm not exactly thrilled about it either son, but she's right. It's been a while, and brushing up on everything again won't hurt you."
"I can't imagine things have changed that much since our last 'talk'. He tried to reason.
"Then this won't take long and you can be on your way. Now, when a man and a woman lie together they-"
Two Hours Later
"Sorry I'm late Nyneave." Hadrian said as he finally reached the young woman who was waiting with a tapping foot of impatience.
"What kept you so long Hadrian? I walked by your shop before I came out and the tarp was down." She asked.
The boy blushed scarlet before saying, "Yeah, my parents heard I was meeting a girl in the woods and they wanted to sit me down and make sure I wasn't taking advantage of you." To his surprise, Nynave's face took on a similar shade of scarlet.
"My mother had a similar talk with me this morning." Her head tilted slightly in thought, "Do you suppose our parents conspired to speak to us both on the same day? It seems rather coincidental." There was that brain at work again.
"I can't be sure, but maybe we should focus on gathering your plants instead of possible conspiracies?"
She nodded, "You're right. We're looking for Forthscross tonight. It's supposed to grow near water so let's head to the river."
Without another word the two took off through the foliage, and within ten minutes had made it to the bank of the rapids that marked their river. The light was leaving them with a beautiful crystal outline.
"Ah, Nynaeve? It's getting pretty dark now. Are you sure we should be this close to the water? What if one of us slips?" Hadrian asked reasonably, only to get a huff in response. Followed quickly by a flip of hair and an angry strut to the water's edge.
"I think I know enough wood craft to know where to stand in the dar- AHH!" In the waning light the young woman had not seen the slippery sheen on the gravel, and her foot slid out from under her. With only a startled cry, Nynaeve had fallen into the rapidly running water.
"Nynaeve!" Hadrian ran as close to the edge as he safely could and looked into the churning waves. He couldn't see her! There was only one thing he could do now. He'd kept his power hidden for fourteen years because of the terror inspired by men that could wield it, but now a life was on the line.
He forced his will into his eyes and gazed into the water at the infrared spectrum. He saw a lot of fish, kelp, and other plant life, but where was… there!" Moving away with the flow of the rapids was a still struggling Nynaeve!
A flash of will and the ground beneath his feet shattered as he took off toward the flailing woman. He ran over logs, under tree branches, and finally he overtook her enough to jump into the air and dive into the water before her path. The moment he surfaced he reached out and pulled her to him. His plan was to swim her to the shore from there. His arms were strong enough to pull them out of the current, but Nynaeve was hysterical. Her fear of drowning had overridden her sense, and her weight and struggling were pulling them both down.
Since swimming was out, that left the skies. Hadrian forced his will once more into his feet, but this time he pictured Voldemort soaring through the air in his past world. A feeling of weightlessness, followed by a shocked gasp from Nynaeve, let him know that he'd succeeded. When he looked down he saw his feet, six inches above the water, with a fine black mist covering the distance between them. He also saw the look of pure fright on Nynaeve's face. It made his stomach drop, as he glided them over to the bank of the river and set her down.
He tried to step away and give her space, but she just leapt forward and buried her head in his chest as she wept. Slowly he sank to the ground, and let her rest against him until her tears dried out.
Finally he couldn't take it anymore and asked her, "Why are you holding me now? Aren't you afraid?"
She looked at him with pure confusion, "Why would I be afraid of you?"
In answer, Hadrian lifted a hand and made a ball of light float above it. "I'm a man that can use the power Nynaeve. The stories all say that people like me inevitably go insane. Doesn't that worry you? How can you stand to even be near me?"
The young woman placed her hand on his face and smiled warmly at him. The look alone was enough to heat his river frozen bones. "What scared me was almost dying in that river. You tried to warn me it was dangerous to get that close, but I was just too stubborn to listen. Then you used this power that is supposed to be evil, and save my life with it. You're a good person Hadrian, and I could never be afraid of you. As for going insane… I think all men are a little crazy. At least you have an explanation for it."
The young man's laugh rumbled against Nynaeve's cheek as he processed her words. "You aren't going to tell anyone are you?"
Nyneve almost sounded offended when she responded, "What? And risk some aes sedai taking you away? No sir. I like you just where you are Hadrian."
He smiled at her words, and then he stood, swept her into his arms, and marched north.
"Where are we going?" She asked. "I can walk on my own you know."
"No you can't. You've been in the river at night. Your clothes are soaked and weather you'll admit it or not you have the early stages of shock. I'm carrying you home so your parents can take care of you."
The girl gave a half hearted glare but otherwise allowed herself to be carried the few miles required to get her home. Once he knocked at the door and dealt with the worried squealing and fussing of the girl's mother, Nynaeve's father insisted on warming him by the fire with a glass of ale.
They'd been sitting in silence for a good ten minutes before the man started to speak. "You saved my daughter tonight. The way she tells it, you dove into raging rapids without hesitation to drag her to shore."
Hadrian tried to play it off, "It really wasn't-"
The man held up a hand. "Let me finish boy. You saved my daughter's life tonight. On top of that you come from a good Emonds Field family, have a solid trade, and a forge that I know your father plans to leave to you. When my daughter's hair is in a braid, you have my permission to court her."
Hadrian was touched. "Sir, I-" The hand came up again.
"Don't say anything boy. Just drink with me, and when our pints are empty I'll walk you home."
The boy nodded and took a large sip as he contemplated his life and its twists.
Emonds Field - Six Years Later
Nynaeve was crushing herbs into a paste on her worktable when a strong pair of arms circled her waist from behind.
"Good morning wife." Hadrian's lips brushed her neck and she giggled softly.
Before his hands could wander, as they liked to in the morning, the village Wisdom took his hands in her own, spun around, and gave her husband a kiss. Then she stepped away and tugged his beard before continuing her work.
"You need to get to work Hadrian. You've five orders that need fulfilling before the festival starts, and I've another three poultices that I need to distribute by tonight. We're too busy for morning fun."
A soft groan escaped the big man's lips, but he nevertheless backed away and started preparing breakfast for them both. "Busy we may be honey, but you need to remember to eat breakfast." The couple smiled at how normal the conversation was for them.
The women's circle had approved Nynaeve to wear her hair in a braid, and be considered a woman, when she was seventeen. The very next day Hadrian had been at her door with a bushel of medical herbs in his hands, and asked her to go on a walk with him. She'd agreed without hesitation, and one year of courting later he'd asked for her hand and she'd said yes.
They'd now been married for two years, and the house they lived in was actually an extension built onto his family's forge. Hadrian, his father, and the innkeeper Bran Al'Vere had worked for a month straight to build it. After, he'd tried to pay the men for their work, but they'd just called it a wedding present for a good neighbor.
After the couple had finished their respective breakfasts, they gave each other one last kiss, and separated to go about their respective business for the day. Both were rather busy as it was about to be Wintertide, and folk were coming into the small town from all sides to celebrate.
When he entered the forge, the bellows was pumping and Perrin was at its handle. He'd clearly had an early start.
"Early morning there little brother?" Hadrian asked as he doffed his shirt and donned a leather apron.
The younger man looked up at his adopted big brother and trade master, and nodded. "Bad dreams. Couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought I'd start working on the orders."
Hadrian scratched his beard as he looked at his hammers before selecting a good one. He'd grown the beard during his first year of marriage, when Nynaeve had commented on how fetching he might look with one.
"Have you finished any?" He asked as he pulled a red hot ingot out of the fire.
Perrin nodded. "The axe head and spade. We still need to make the firework mounts, repair three cart wheel axles, and prepare the struts for the platform for that gleeman that's coming.
"Hm." Hadrian lightly smacked his hammer on the anvil, and then began waling on the ingot, forcing it into his desired shape. "Speaking of the gleeman, you have friends in town. Have they said anything else about the Wintertide celebration?"
Perrin paused in his bellows work for a moment. "The only new thing I can think of it that aes sedai lady."
Hadrian's hammer stopped short. "What aes sedai lady?"
"Oh, well I was talking to Egwene al'Vere last night, and apparently some aes sedai woman and her warder rented her dad's best room and bath at the tavern. Paid in full for two whole weeks and everything."
Hadrian didn't let the worry this news brought show on his face. Instead he just said, "That is interesting." and continued hammering his work.