Set during the early pages of The Great Hunt, after Lan gives Nynaeve his ring. The group is still at
the Sheinar border. Just a one shot Lan reflection piece on his impossible relationship with Nynaeve.
The timeline is important, because it applies only to that general time in the series, obviously. The
unfortunate product of too much Blue Rodeo. As usual, reviews are appreciated.
Disclaimer: The WoT belongs to Robert Jordan, the lyrics to "Bulletproof" belong to whoever owns
them, and the writing is mine. I am working on the third chapter of "A Missed Stitch", and it should
be expected by next weekend. I hate having the computer only on the weekend.
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Tell me one more time again
Just like I didn't hear you
Like I don't know what's going through your mind,I do
I play the same game too
I know it's hard to stop
Even when you want to
*~*
Lan stared at the figure crossing the courtyard. Secrets placed a burden on her shoulders,
but she never let their weight show. Yet the way she walked betrayed her thoughts. Nynaeve may
be a woman of strong disposition, but even she only managed that ramrod straight pose when she
was hoping to fool someone, usually herself. He wished he could learn them, to help her ease the
weight. But he never could. From the purpose in her stride, she was likely muttering about wool
headed men.
Her braid was tossing to and fro, like an angry cat twitching its tail in warning. The image of
that dark hair down past her shoulders flashed into his mind, but he repressed it. He was a man, not
some half grown lad. He had absolutely no intention of concerning himself with Nynaeve al'Meara. He
couldn't afford to.
He was bonded to Moiraine, and that was as simple as it got. Even if he wished do be
dissolved of his vow, and Light the urged burned at him, she would not. And she would have every
right not to. There was no reason for her to even consider the thought. Though he did find himself
glad she was not of the Green Ajah. What was he thinking? He was Moiraine's Warder, and he was
to die before endangering her.
But that was no longer true. Nynaeve wore his ring, and he would die to honour his vow to
her. If it were to come down to his duty to Moiraine or his promise to Nynaeve, he would go to the
Wisdom, damning his soul the entire way. And grinning like a fool to see her safe.
But he could never let her know. She was his mashiara, beyond his reach. He had meant
the term, but part of him knew that the word would likely stiffen her resolve to love him. He was a
fool, a pure fool. He could not pretend, even to himself, that what he offered could possibly honour
her, despite her protests. Nynaeve deserved more then he could offer. And he would not dress her in
widow's garb. A life of love was not for him.
She had accepted it as easily as she could, and would not talk of it. But every time he stole
a glance at her, he could see her stiffen. Every word she said to him cut more then any wound. She
was suffering, but she would not admit it. And it hurt him to see it, to turn away from her instead of
holding her tightly. But he would never let her know. It was a game, a game where nobody won and
the only outcome was heartbreak.
But there were times it was worth it. The nights where he snuck into her room, and
watched her slowly breathe. She never knew he was there, and he could linger in her presence.
But he had stopped that, the night he saw a path of fresh tears staining her cheeks. Perhaps she
was not as immune to his words as he had hoped. What he was doing to her could not be explained.
It was the ultimate irony, a vicious cycle he would not break. To save her pain, he caused it. And it
hurt him more then he thought possible.
*~*
Now the moon lights up your face and I can see you're crying You never liked me to see you cry, it's true I've done some crying too You know, the hardest part about it Is trying to hide it from you
*~*
Before her, he had never thought of a woman that way. Sure, he had looked once or twice,
but it wasn't in his blood. He had duty, the safety of others on his shoulders. It left little time for
romance. But somehow that woman had snuck into his heart, and seemed completely oblivious to it.
Perhaps it had been the way she took nonsense from nobody, even Aes Sedai. That took a
strength he admired. Or perhaps it was the way she seemed unaware of how beautiful she was. She
was no village halfwit looking for a man to protect her. She took it upon herself, and would never
admit she was wrong. She was one of the strongest women he had ever met, and with a sense of
obligation. There was no way to deny it. He loved her.
And that was why he hurt her. That was why he told her there was no hope. Perhaps if he
said it often enough he would begin to believe it. He doubted it though. She had left her mark on him
long ago, and time would not change the fact. It could not.
*~*
It would be great to be so strong
I never needed anybody's help to get along
But we're so scared of the silence and the tricks that we use
O, we're careful and we're cunning, but we're easily bruised
I don't want to lie about it, I'm not bulletproof
*~*
She was going to Tar Valon, away from him and the danger he brought. The White Tower
would protect her, from any danger that was to come. And from him. He should have sent her
already. Moiraine would not have objected if he presented it the right way. He could send her away
until he died, or another man had taken her heart. He could stay away from her until this ridiculous
game was nothing but a memory in her mind. But then he could not see her, and the thought tore at
his mind.
*~*
Well I finally found the way to hide from all your glances
'til the waiting game we play is through
I can, but what's the use
When all I really want to do is hide out with you?
*~*
Lan watched the figure crossing the courtyard. Secrets placed a burden on her shoulders,
but she never let their weight show. Yet the way she walked betrayed her thoughts. Nynaeve may
be a woman of strong disposition, but even she only managed that ramrod straight pose when she
was hoping to fool someone, usually herself. He wished he could learn them, to help her ease the
weight. But he never could. From the purpose in her stride, she was likely muttering about wool
headed men. And she would be right.
*~*
Tell me one more time again I guess I didn't hear you
And I don't know all the secrets that you keep inside
I tried the same thing too
But they all come pouring out of me when I'm talking to you
It would be great to be so strong
You never needed anybody else's help to carry on
But I'm not waking up each morning with forgiveness I can use
No I'm careless and I'm cruel, but I'm still easily bruised
But I'm so tired of lying about it, I'm not bulletproof
No, and I'm not going to lie about it, I'm not bulletproof