A/N: All right, all right. I know. It's about Egwene. Well, someone has to love her. And Gawyn and Egwene are probably one of the cutest pairings evah. Right up there next to Rand/Min/Aviendha. Or Mat/Tuon.
So there.
And I don't own Wheel of Time.
Gawyn was thinking about Egwene.
He did that a lot, lately. She haunted his sleep in dreams that made him flush remembering. Whenever he saw a dark haired woman with big, dark eyes, his head snapped around eagerly, searching her face, always hoping that it was Egwene, somehow. And through all of that, the guilt whenever he thought about those lecherous and joyful dreams: What about Galad?
Walking through the streets of Caemlyn sent a jolt through his heart whenever he looked up at the Palace. His Mother was dead, and because of al'Thor. He couldn't help remembering the shepherd boy that had fallen off the palace wall while gaping at a false Dragon, and wonder how he had become what he was. Feverishly, he hoped that Egwene hadn't gotten mixed up with him.
It was about then that something ran into his gut and pushed a small grunt out of his lungs before he steeled himself, hand flying to his sword hilt. Then he realized that it was one of those Aiel in skirts, her shawl falling back over her head as she pushed herself up from the dusty streets, brushing dust out of long, dark hair…
He stopped. No Aiel had hair that color.
Swiftly, her knelt and pulled her hand away from her hair, his hand tilting her head back to look into her eyes. They stared back at him, wide, dark pools first full of surprise and then sudden joy. Her cheeks flushed bright red, and her eyes flicked down and then back to his. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, suddenly concerned.
She looked around at the eyes staring at them – how strange it must seem, a young lord and an Aiel woman greeting like old friends – pulled him away from the crowds, into a side street. "Let's talk somewhere private," she said, and he luxuriated in the sound of her voice.
They walked along the street, his hand intertwined in hers, his eyes drinking in her hair, her eyes, her beautiful face. All thoughts of Galad had vanished. "I heard you were in Illian," he breathed, his hands twitching at his sides, longing to push her hair back from her face and smooth away the ends that strayed, unnoticed, from their place behind her ears. "And what are you doing running away from where the Aes Sedai are staying?" Impatiently, Egwene pushed the strands that he had been eying behind her ears. Had she read his mind? It was eerie when women seemed to do that.
"I might ask what you are doing here," she said in a voice cool as any Aes Sedai's. Oh, she had grown up since he had last seen her. And become more beautiful, too, if that was possible. "Are you with them? The Tower Aes Sedai?" He nodded, and opened his mouth, but before he could get a word in edgewise, she interrupted. "I need to ask you a favor, Gawyn."
"Anything that doesn't hurt Andor, my sister, or make me Dragonsworn," he said immediately. "If it is within my power, willingly, Egwene." Heads swiveled at the word Dragonsworn, and Egwene glanced nervously at him. He steered her in the direction of the Long Man. "I know somewhere quieter. Where we can…talk." The innkeeper raised her eyebrows at him as he led her up to his room at the inn, but he pretended not to see, too busy taking in every detail of her face.
She sat down on the bed, and as he closed the door quietly behind them, awkwardness descended in a threatening cloud. Egwene adjusted her shawl self-consciously. He realized he was sweating, and pulled out a handkerchief, muttering some idiot excuse about the heat. He wiped his forehead and started to hand it to Egwene, but pulled back his hand swiftly when he remembered that it already had his own sweat on it. He cleared his throat nervously and rummaged in his pockets for another one, but Egwene coolly produced one from somewhere in her strange costume. "I supposed I shouldn't be surprised to find you with al'Thor." Anger rose in his voice, and a peculiar thickness. He felt a little bit of shame when he realized that they were tears.
"He didn't kill your mother, Gawyn," she said softly. "I promise. Please…don't hurt him until I can prove it. And Elayne is safe. I won't tell you where, though," she said when he opened his mouth. "Only be sure that she is safe." Suddenly, hesitantly, she reached forward with one hand and ran fingers through his hair. He let out a long, slow breath, and suddenly remembered a dream that had been very like this. With a few differences, of course. He flushed to his brows, and Egwene jerked back her hand as if burned, almost as if she had read his mind again. Come to think of it, she was blushing almost as hotly as he was sure he was. Blood and ashes, he hated it when women did that!
He cleared his throat again, casting around for an subject that would get him away from that dangerous topic. "You look more like an Aes Sedai than when I last saw you," he said at last. "More – sure of yourself." He laughed, and hoped it did not sound forced. Light, but he was nervous! "Did you know I used to dream about being your Warder? Foolish, isn't it?"
"You will be my Warder." The words came out almost on top of his, and she looked as surprised as he felt. He forced a smile, sure she was joking, no matter how serious she looked.
"No, not me," he said. "Galad, definitely. But you might have to beat off the other Aes Sedai with a stick. They all -"
Egwene's hand pressed against his lips, and even that small touch made his heart flutter. He shifted, forcing himself to maintain his smile. "I do not love Galad. I love you." He shook his head, feeling bewildered. Was she teasing, or wasn't she? It was always impossible to tell with women. Until you put a foot wrong and they slapped you across the face.
"I can't be a Warder. Elayne - " The pressure on his lips firmed, and Egwene was frowning now, her brows drawing down dangerously.
"You will be mine," she said firmly. "Push that through your thick skull. I love you." She stared at him, eyes hard as agates. He tried to work moisture back into a mouth that had suddenly gone dry. "Well?" she said challengingly. "Aren't you going to say something?"
Gawyn at last found the words he had been searching for. "When you wish for something so long that you think it will never come true, and then it does…it is difficult to find words, and difficult to believe."
She smiled up at him, her long, dark lashes catching his eye. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she said softly, almost teasingly, but the gleam in her dark eyes assured him at last that she was not teasing. He picked her up – she was so light and slender, it felt like picking up a feather – spun her around, and kissed her.
It was as good as he remembered, and the look on her face completed it. If dreams like this come true, he thought absently as he ran fingers through his hair as she departed, I would be a very happy man.