Immortal Devotion
Lanfear. Daughter of the Night. Wife to cruelty, companion to death, wielder of fear. Beauty of Darkness.
In Shayol Ghul, prison fortress of the Dark One and his Forsaken, there they had stayed, in their palace that was also their cell, to await the coming of the Dragon Reborn.
Lanfear stood in her chambers, as still and as cold as a dead winter's morning. Her long silky black hair tumbled around her shoulders, her pale skin shone like the moon, her stern, cold, full lips frowned and her dark eyes glittered as she surveyed her surroundings.
Her room was richly furnished and filled with pretty things. Silks and satins hung everywhere, jewelled pins and combs sparkled on their dark wooden stands, tapestries attempted to soften the hard stone walls. Beautiful red hangings adorned the enormous bed and white and ruby cushions lay on the elaborate covers. All an illusion of course. Lanfear's very life was an illusion. She was a mere shadow of her old self. All that remained of her was her devotion to her one lord, Shai'tan.
That was all that was supposed to remain of the Forsaken, anyway.
But Lanfear still had something human inside of her. She had not abandoned all emotions and purposes to the Dark One. One remained, one so strong, that it had passed through the Dark One's gaze, and he had overlooked the one flaw that was in Lanfear's evil spirit. And unlike other flaws that existed in normal people, this one was pure and good. It was love. Love for the one person in her life that she wanted and needed desperately. She had seen him in thousands of shapes and sizes, races and status, yet her devotion of mind and spirit was not for his outer self. His thoughts, his expressions, they were what had captivated her heart.
For hundreds of years the Father of Lies and his faithful followers had watched Lews Therin Telamon appear in the Pattern over and over again. So many different people with so many different names, but it was always he, and the Dark One always knew whom. And Lanfear, his pet, had watched as he boiled in hatred, wrath and, though he dared not admit it, fear that one day, he would come again more strongly then ever before and destroy them all. Such would inevitably come to pass, in fulfillment of the Prophecies of the Dragon Reborn.
Lanfear crossed her chamber, coming to stand at a tall stone stand, in which lay a stone bowl filled with water darker then a moonless night, the only thing in the entire room that was not an illusion. It came up to her chest and she peered down at it easily, staring into the impenetrable blackness of its smooth, undisturbed surface. It gave back no reflection; it did not shine in the light of the candles in the room. It was simply black, almost too black to be real. For a moment she stood there, peering into its depths. Then, she stretched out her hand and gently touched the water.
It rippled under her finger, and the ripples grew into tiny, churning waves that flapped against the basin's sides. It bubbled and boiled, as though heated by an invisible flame. But through it all, the water remained as black as a starless night.
Then, it gave a last bubble, and was still. In it, an image seemed to shine with darkness, if that were possible. It was not the reflection of Lanfear's beautiful face, but the image of a shepherd from the Two Rivers, a young man named Rand al'Thor.
Lanfear gazed at his face with longing and hunger. To her, he was not the poor shepherd, not the orphaned son of Tam al'Thor. To her, he was Lews Therin Telamon, the man she loved and adored more then anyone else. She could not say that she was displeased with his present shape: he was very good-looking, with reddish-brown hair, greyish-blue eyes, and muscular limbs. Her hand hovered over the image: how she longed to touch him, to kiss him, to feel is arms around her. The softest moan escaped her lips, barely audible even to her ears.
Someone spoke her name, and she turned abruptly from the basin to see who it was. She stared into the flaming eyes of her lord and master, Ba'alzamon. His face was masked in red, as was his entire body. The reason he covered all of his skin was because Rand al'Thor had burned him with the True Source.
Lanfear bowed her head, though she did not have much room to do so: they were inches apart. When her face rose once more, Ba'alzamon spoke.
"You belong to me, Lanfear." His voice was a deadly whisper. "Telamon forsook you long ago, and you gave me your soul, you life." She felt his red-gloved hands close around her waist and slide down the white of her clingy silk gown. She kept her face as smooth as an Aes Sedai's.
"My lord, I would never think of leaving your service. Your power is greater then any other's, and my loyalty remains with you."
"Yes." His voice was soft and dangerous, and would have sounded warm had it not seemed to freeze the air around him with it's chill. "You have always loved power." His fingers lightly traced her delicate curves. "If the Dragon grew more powerful then I, would you leave me?" The way his eyes and mouth opened into endless caverns of flame told Lanfear to be careful of what she said.
"That could never happen, my lord." His grip tightened.
"Answer me," he hissed.
"I would never leave you, Great Lord of the Dark. You are my master. I live only to serve you."
Ba'alzamon's hands slackened and the red mask crinkled into a smile that did not reach his flaming eyes. "Yes, my pet, you are mine. Your life with Telamon ended when you came to me. You belong to me." With that, he left through the open door of her room.
Lanfear collapsed onto the bed, all her energy drained from that one encounter. Sweat beaded on her forehead and made her black hair stick to her face. She had been lucky this time: when the Dark Lord's mood was not at it's best, he would sometimes punish her simply for the pleasure it gave him. Knowing she had escaped such an occasion by a mere hair made her shudder.
Her dainty, pale hand picked up a mirror on a side table next to her bed. She examined her reflection.
She had always been beautiful, since she was very young. She hated the way every man she met goggled at her, and she hated even more how they reacted to her beauty. Men were so caught up in her appearance, they cared for nothing but that.
And the one man that truly cared for her was stolen from her by the little blonde wench. Lews Therin Telamon. So great and powerful, so passionate. Why did he have to leave her for a skinny little bitch of a girl? Because he was a man, and men were unfaithful traitors. One night in his bed, and he left her for that whore he called his wife.
Damn him! Burn him! Curse him! He would be hers yet. He belonged to her, long before that straw-haired harpy, Ilyena ever lay eyes on him and took his heart from her grasp. She just had to speak to him again. If she could escape her prison for just a little while and force Lews Therin to emerge from the shell of life he was using that was Rand al'Thor, she could capture him yet. She could convince him that she was his sole salvation.
Then her heart would not need be torn in two anymore. With Lews Therin back by her side, she would have her loyalty to her one lord, and her devotion to her one love no longer fighting against each other, but working as one. The very thought of it made her heart quicken with excitement. He must come back to her. He must. Prophecies of the Dragon be damned, he would fall in love with her once more, and belong to her as he was meant to.
"You will be mine, Lews Therin. I will have you, forever."
Lanfear. Daughter of the Night. Wife to cruelty, companion to death, wielder of fear. Beauty of Darkness.
In Shayol Ghul, prison fortress of the Dark One and his Forsaken, there they had stayed, in their palace that was also their cell, to await the coming of the Dragon Reborn.
Lanfear stood in her chambers, as still and as cold as a dead winter's morning. Her long silky black hair tumbled around her shoulders, her pale skin shone like the moon, her stern, cold, full lips frowned and her dark eyes glittered as she surveyed her surroundings.
Her room was richly furnished and filled with pretty things. Silks and satins hung everywhere, jewelled pins and combs sparkled on their dark wooden stands, tapestries attempted to soften the hard stone walls. Beautiful red hangings adorned the enormous bed and white and ruby cushions lay on the elaborate covers. All an illusion of course. Lanfear's very life was an illusion. She was a mere shadow of her old self. All that remained of her was her devotion to her one lord, Shai'tan.
That was all that was supposed to remain of the Forsaken, anyway.
But Lanfear still had something human inside of her. She had not abandoned all emotions and purposes to the Dark One. One remained, one so strong, that it had passed through the Dark One's gaze, and he had overlooked the one flaw that was in Lanfear's evil spirit. And unlike other flaws that existed in normal people, this one was pure and good. It was love. Love for the one person in her life that she wanted and needed desperately. She had seen him in thousands of shapes and sizes, races and status, yet her devotion of mind and spirit was not for his outer self. His thoughts, his expressions, they were what had captivated her heart.
For hundreds of years the Father of Lies and his faithful followers had watched Lews Therin Telamon appear in the Pattern over and over again. So many different people with so many different names, but it was always he, and the Dark One always knew whom. And Lanfear, his pet, had watched as he boiled in hatred, wrath and, though he dared not admit it, fear that one day, he would come again more strongly then ever before and destroy them all. Such would inevitably come to pass, in fulfillment of the Prophecies of the Dragon Reborn.
Lanfear crossed her chamber, coming to stand at a tall stone stand, in which lay a stone bowl filled with water darker then a moonless night, the only thing in the entire room that was not an illusion. It came up to her chest and she peered down at it easily, staring into the impenetrable blackness of its smooth, undisturbed surface. It gave back no reflection; it did not shine in the light of the candles in the room. It was simply black, almost too black to be real. For a moment she stood there, peering into its depths. Then, she stretched out her hand and gently touched the water.
It rippled under her finger, and the ripples grew into tiny, churning waves that flapped against the basin's sides. It bubbled and boiled, as though heated by an invisible flame. But through it all, the water remained as black as a starless night.
Then, it gave a last bubble, and was still. In it, an image seemed to shine with darkness, if that were possible. It was not the reflection of Lanfear's beautiful face, but the image of a shepherd from the Two Rivers, a young man named Rand al'Thor.
Lanfear gazed at his face with longing and hunger. To her, he was not the poor shepherd, not the orphaned son of Tam al'Thor. To her, he was Lews Therin Telamon, the man she loved and adored more then anyone else. She could not say that she was displeased with his present shape: he was very good-looking, with reddish-brown hair, greyish-blue eyes, and muscular limbs. Her hand hovered over the image: how she longed to touch him, to kiss him, to feel is arms around her. The softest moan escaped her lips, barely audible even to her ears.
Someone spoke her name, and she turned abruptly from the basin to see who it was. She stared into the flaming eyes of her lord and master, Ba'alzamon. His face was masked in red, as was his entire body. The reason he covered all of his skin was because Rand al'Thor had burned him with the True Source.
Lanfear bowed her head, though she did not have much room to do so: they were inches apart. When her face rose once more, Ba'alzamon spoke.
"You belong to me, Lanfear." His voice was a deadly whisper. "Telamon forsook you long ago, and you gave me your soul, you life." She felt his red-gloved hands close around her waist and slide down the white of her clingy silk gown. She kept her face as smooth as an Aes Sedai's.
"My lord, I would never think of leaving your service. Your power is greater then any other's, and my loyalty remains with you."
"Yes." His voice was soft and dangerous, and would have sounded warm had it not seemed to freeze the air around him with it's chill. "You have always loved power." His fingers lightly traced her delicate curves. "If the Dragon grew more powerful then I, would you leave me?" The way his eyes and mouth opened into endless caverns of flame told Lanfear to be careful of what she said.
"That could never happen, my lord." His grip tightened.
"Answer me," he hissed.
"I would never leave you, Great Lord of the Dark. You are my master. I live only to serve you."
Ba'alzamon's hands slackened and the red mask crinkled into a smile that did not reach his flaming eyes. "Yes, my pet, you are mine. Your life with Telamon ended when you came to me. You belong to me." With that, he left through the open door of her room.
Lanfear collapsed onto the bed, all her energy drained from that one encounter. Sweat beaded on her forehead and made her black hair stick to her face. She had been lucky this time: when the Dark Lord's mood was not at it's best, he would sometimes punish her simply for the pleasure it gave him. Knowing she had escaped such an occasion by a mere hair made her shudder.
Her dainty, pale hand picked up a mirror on a side table next to her bed. She examined her reflection.
She had always been beautiful, since she was very young. She hated the way every man she met goggled at her, and she hated even more how they reacted to her beauty. Men were so caught up in her appearance, they cared for nothing but that.
And the one man that truly cared for her was stolen from her by the little blonde wench. Lews Therin Telamon. So great and powerful, so passionate. Why did he have to leave her for a skinny little bitch of a girl? Because he was a man, and men were unfaithful traitors. One night in his bed, and he left her for that whore he called his wife.
Damn him! Burn him! Curse him! He would be hers yet. He belonged to her, long before that straw-haired harpy, Ilyena ever lay eyes on him and took his heart from her grasp. She just had to speak to him again. If she could escape her prison for just a little while and force Lews Therin to emerge from the shell of life he was using that was Rand al'Thor, she could capture him yet. She could convince him that she was his sole salvation.
Then her heart would not need be torn in two anymore. With Lews Therin back by her side, she would have her loyalty to her one lord, and her devotion to her one love no longer fighting against each other, but working as one. The very thought of it made her heart quicken with excitement. He must come back to her. He must. Prophecies of the Dragon be damned, he would fall in love with her once more, and belong to her as he was meant to.
"You will be mine, Lews Therin. I will have you, forever."