Disclaimer: The Wheel of Time and all related media are property of Robert Jordan and Tor Publishing.

In case anyone was wondering, the particular memory that this fic stems from is in CoT. Specifically when Tuon asks Mat if he remembers Hawkwing. Or at least that's where I think I got the idea from.

Coil threw open the doors to his chambers having out himself in a foul mood. The heavy wooden doors slammed on their hinges before swinging back closed behind him. Coil cast his sword belt on to the chair by the door that he kept for that purpose. It wasn't until he had begun to doff his coat that he realized he wasn't the only one in the room.

Faleen Rankad stood with her back to him seemingly unaware of his entrance, though there was little chance that that were possible. She was pouring what smelled like spiced wine into a silver goblet from a matching silver pitcher. She seemed completely absorbed in that task.

"What in the Light's name are you doing here, Faleen?" Coil asked none to kindly. The woman turned to show her face, a pretty face with clear blue eyes, small features, and long, loosely curled brown hair falling around it. At this time that pretty face showed contempt and vexation.

"Do not think I am here because I'd like to be, Hebar." She said coolly, "I have come only to deliver a message from my father." She took a sip from her cup. She stood straight backed and bristled with dislike for Coil. She was short in comparison to many in the court, very short from where Coil stood as he was considered tall by those same standards. She was five years Coil junior but old enough for the two to have grown together, to some extent. When they were young Coil had mocked her stature and that had been the first burr in the less than smooth relationship.

"If you have a message to give, Rankad, I suggest you give it. It has been a trying day and I have no desire to bandy words with you." Coil continued to remove his coat. He placed on the same chair as he had his sword belt and then moved past her to the table where the wine was. He looked and discovered she had the only goblet. That meant it had been here when she arrived; set for him. "Who allowed you in, anyways?"

"A servant." She said, as if there were nothing wrong with that. Coil made a note to remember to speak with the Mistress Bodouin, the head maid, about allowing certain people into his rooms unaccompanied. "And I have no more desire to waste my time here. My father, Lord Cohar Rankad, wishes to speak with you in the morning. He will be in his chambers until full noon, at which time he will be going hunting, so you must come to him before then."

Coil waited for her to give the reason for the summons but when she stared at him blankly he asked.

"He didn't give me a reason. But see that you meet him." She said sharply. "I don't intend to see this come back at me in any way." With that she placed the used cup on the silver worked tray and headed for the door. Just as she reached the doors she turned and looked him frostily in the eye. "Oh, and you should take a care not to be so rough with your clothes. Try hanging them, it would also keep this place from looking like a total pigsty." The door slammed behind her.

"And you should take a care not to be so rough with my doors!" He yelled after her. There was no way she heard. Coil let out an irritated breath. He chose to ignore the way he had treated the doors when he had come in.

That woman irritated him to no end. Spoiled chit. Having no cup to drink from - and feeling the need for a drink - Coil picked up the pitcher and drank from its spout, taking care not to spill on his shirtsleeves, not that he had been taking to heart what Faleen had said about his clothes.

Sitting in one of the chairs by the merrily crackling fire Coil began to pull off his boots, setting the pitcher on the arm rest. After throwing them toward his sleeping chambers he scanned the room to ensure no other annoyances were about to pop out of the molding. The room had high ceilings with ornate scroll work on the details. The round sitting room held few furnishings. The chair by the door, three armchairs by the fire, which was to the right on the door, and a table straight across from the entrance rounded out the decoration. The table also doubled as desk when Coil needed it, he would pull up on of the arm chairs behind it and face the door.

At this time he lay back in his chair and put one foot atop the other and thought about the message he had received. He thought it best to take his mind away from the Hawkwing dilemma for the time being. What would Old Rankad want to see me for? The man was an old coot. Generally humored in the court he would go on at length about anything to anyone who would listen. Maybe that's why Faleen is so thorny, having to spend so much time with that man would wear on a person.

If Coil didn't know any better he was in for a morning of made up tales about the Age of Legends. And, of course, everyone one of them would have the prefect stratagem for defeating Hawkwing's armies. If Cohar was to be believed in the Age of Legends everyone could fly and one certain days of the year the people would go about with no clothes. Where the man had picked up these fantasies Coil could never guess.

Coil put all those things out of his mind as he took another long drought from the pitcher of wine. He closed his eyes and let the warmth from the fire sink into his body and the worries of his days slide out of him. There was nothing to worry about.

For the rest of the evening, at least.