Disclaimer: Still own nothing.
A/N: Enjoy, I hope. This is the last major time jump I promise. Think of the first four chapters of this story as an extended prologue if you want. Just to set up what I really want to write.
The Thin Line, Chapter Two.
Over a year Later…
Today was meant to be a joyous occasion, a celebration of the lands of her ancestor been returned to there rightful ruler. But she could not make it so. Last night had brought word that the Aes Sedai and there allies had retreated from Ghealdan, what her generals called a strategic retreat, all the way to the Andorian boarder. Strategic or not, it did not matter, the result was the same. Another nation had fallen to the Ever Victorious Army and the Empire grew. Her empire grew. She should feel satisfied and to a small extent she did, but not nearly as much as she should have. Instead she felt hollow, empty… lonely. 'What good were new lands if she had no one to share her joy with?' If they had captured Ghealdan as a result of a battle and there were newly collared damane, she may have felt differently. Instead it was an empty victory, and it did nothing to sooth her.
On the road into Ghealdan's capital, Jehannah, she rode her razor finding some small comfort in the beautiful animal. She reached out and rubbed Akeins neck, just managing to keep the sad smile off her face. It would not do for her soldiers to believe she was sad on the day they celebrated a great victory for the Empire. It would be demoralizing to the army and a bad omen that the veterans from home could hardly ignore. It had been a long and bloody struggle for every league of Ghealdan, the soldiers needed to celebrate, to savor their victory and she would not take that from them. It was time for her to once again serve the Empire and she would do her duty.
How could she expect any of them to understand how isolated she felt in her power? How numb? Her mother had never told her of that aspect of been Empress. Perhaps that is why she had married Farther, a man it was said she loved, so she did not feel so alone. As the early winter winds whipped at her cloak she looked over her shoulder and could have laughed at the irony had it not been so sad. Alone she felt and yet behind her thousands upon thousands of people rode, all at her command. Selucia was there, of course, along with her six personal damane, each connected by a silver collar and leash to a sul'dam. Following the sul'dam rode the Deathwatch guards.
Rank upon rank of men in gleaming red and dark green armor stretching as far back on the road as she could see. Men that would die to defend her, men that would happily die at a command from her. So many people and yet, apart from Selucia, none of them knew who she was. None of them wanted to know. The Empress was the Empress after all and that was enough for them. Even Selucia had treated her differently after her ascension, at least until she put a stop to it.
In truth she had been trained for this from birth. The concept of a simple friend was almost unheard off, while enemies lurked around seemingly every corner. Those that had surrounded her were there by tradition, at the order of the Empress. For her own safety she had been raised in isolation and she had been well used to it, dealing with it became second nature. She reveled in her duties, in her fight with her siblings to preserve her own life and be named heir. Later she had had the Return to occupy herself with and the thought of the honor she would bring to the Empire in reclaiming her ancestor's lands from the oath breakers.
The news of the early successes had thrilled her; the unimagined success that the forerunners had achieved brought joy. Every time she saw a woman who dared call herself Aes Sedai properly collard and put into the service of the Empire she was filled with immense satisfaction. It had been enough for her; it filled her life and gave her purpose. That was until a man named Matrim Cauthon burst into her life and changed everything.
In retrospect the best way she could think of to describe the man who she hadn't seen since the day they married over four years ago was like sunlight. Mostly it wasn't worth your attention, yet at times it could be extremely irritating and at others it can offer comfort. But try and go too long without it… and you began to notice its absence. 'That wasn't quite right;' she corrected herself sternly, 'not paying attention to Matrim Cauthon can be quite dangerous. That she had learnt the hard way.' The man had so many facets to who he was that she despaired at the thought of unraveling them all. He never seemed out of his element, always at ease, always as if he had lived the moment before. Like so many men wrapped in one body, though what he truly excelled at still had her generals looking over their shoulders nervously.
He claimed he had lived in a small village until two years before she had meant him, his farther a horse trader. She had not detected a lie when he had been telling her, but that story hardly squared with the military genius that her best generals, her most trusted generals, claimed him to be. Her generals had taken to studying his tactics, especially the ones he had used against the Trollocs. Even in its absence the sunlight could be irritating.
Her marriage to him had been a cold, brutal even, tactical move. Quite similar to one she would make in a game of stones, a calculation of what was best for the Empire. After weeks of bearing witness to his …talents, she had know that he was a danger to the Empire and removing him from opposing the Return had been her major objective. She had never really expected him to abandon his people and return to Ebou Dar with her. 'Though it had been a nice dream,' she silently admitted to herself, 'childish, but nice just the same.' Still, at times, she couldn't help but wonder how things might be different had he been in control of her armies, wonder where the return might be. Had she known then the trouble he would eventually cause her, she may never had said those words, despite any fortune her Lidya had ever told her.
The first time she had been angred by the fact that she had indeed married the wayward Matrim Cauthon was on her return to Ebou Dar. The city was gripped in mourning and she had not ridden very far at all before she had been informed of the catastrophic news. Her mother, the Empress, had been killed in the Court of the Nine Moons, along with every other member of her family. The imperial family murdered, as well as almost all members of the high Blood. There was rioting and looting in Seandar, and elsewhere. Reports of civil war were flooding in, before everything from across the ocean went silent, with the remaining Low Blood contesting the Crystal Throne. It was utterly inconceivable. The empire in tatters, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. She had been livid. There was only one group of people capable of such a vile act, the Aes Sedai. She had vowed revenge and had been planning how to gain it ever since.
In an effort to add a small flame of hope in the face of such tragic news, she had let the word spread that she had married, that the Empire had a Prince of Ravens and the royal line would continue. After the death of her family her greatest duty to the empire became producing an heir. The marriage of the Empress went a long way towards that.
For a time it seemed to work, the bleak mood of the city lifted, if ever so slightly, and rumors abounded about who her husband was and how long the empire would have to nervously wait until the succession was insured with the birth of her first child. And the people, at least those from home, waited for the arrival of the Prince of Ravens, and waited, and waited. Over fours years later and his continued absence caused no end of rumors and slander against her person. She forced herself to stop gritting her teeth as she quickly looked over her shoulder once more. Were they looking at her with more concern than was appropriate? Was there to much worry etched on those frozen features?
As the weeks turned to months and the Last Battle came and went, proving that the impossible nightmares that Matrim told her of were not children's tales, she began to worry. If the Trollocs, Mryddraal, Draghkar, Darkhounds and Grey Men were all real, why not a ter'angreal to another world where the Aelfin gave true answers? It had occurred to her than that if that was actually true, and not a lie like she had initially believed, than Matrim may never have said the words with the intention of marring her. If that ter'angreal existed, and he had been told he would marry the Daughter of Nine Moons, then it was more than likely he had simply been suffering from shock and had little control over what came out of his mouth. Before he had learnt of her title he had been intending to leave her behind, after all, not take her with him. Her time with him had proved that he knew almost nothing of her people's customers. 'What chance was there than that he knew of there marriage customs before he said those words?' she asked herself quietly, yet again. She was afraid of the answer to that question.
Oh how that thought played on her mind and had grown worse the longer he stayed away. 'Did he accept that he was married?' She had quietly asked around and found that by his customs they were far from a married couple. 'Was he acting like he was married?' Again she had to calm herself from what was most defiantly not a jealous rage. 'Most defiantly not,' she weakly repeated, trying to make herself believe it. As those thoughts had come to her she had remembered the fortune that her Lidya had told her and wished that she had paid closer attention in the beginning, instead of having her beaten. Now those words plagued her, especially the last sentence. 'Beware the man of the red hand, for him you will marry and none other.'
'She was here doing her duty and the only man she would ever marry was,…was spending half his time in tavern rooms, with th-, those peasant serving girls that he seemed to like so much.' She forced her hands to stop making fists. She remembered how they took to him too; the Hell in Maderin had proved that. At least when he had been in Cairhien her seekers had been able to watch him for her. Now, now she didn't even know where he was.
For two and a half years he had sat in southern Cairhien and she had begun thinking that finally something good had come of her marriage. When she had departed his Band, he had claimed he would fight her empire, but for two and a half years he did anything but. The longer he didn't fight a small flicker of hope had begun to grow, that perhaps he would come around, that she had done the right thing. She had begun contemplating kidnapping, just to push him in the right direction, and then overnight it all seemed to change.
Like ants disturbed from an anthill the Red Hand spread out from their walled Fort to every part of Cairhien and beyond. Groups of soldiers spread out in all directions, all with seemingly different objectives. The seekers reported that groups were sent to recruit new soldiers, more masons banners were planned and two new ones, but what they were didn't leave the forts walls. A large contingent sought out Aludra, of all people. Her weapons had been more shocking than effective, what he wanted her for she hadn't had the faintest idea. Two thousands soldiers rode for the Black Tower. Others offered obscene amounts of money to bellfounders, and once they accept, packed up their families and belongings and guarded them like royalty until they reached the Fort. The Band recruited more blacksmiths, carpenters, and fletchers. They expanded their logistics corps, brought far more supplies than they needed and the wagons to haul it all.
It had all amounted to one thing, the Band of the Red Hand was preparing for war. Every day the reports had flooded in, one after the other, reports of progress and training. Day and night the furnaces roared, armor produced, weapons made. Her seekers caught whispers of something named 'Dragons' but had been unable to say what they were. They did however note the arrival of one hundred and fifty Asha'man.
The news had spread, as it often did, and for weeks the Tarasin Palace had been a hive of activity at all hours. Nervous generals strode the halls, finding sleep hard to come by. Plans were made on how to react to anything that might be thrown at them. The Aes Sedai might not be able to make use of gateways due to lack of numbers but the Red Hand had no such problems. Personally she hadn't faired much better than her generals, every report came to her, every piece of news no matter how small. She had been determined to know everything, to see if she could learn what Matrim was planning.
It had all come to a head three months after the first reports of activity from the Fort had come in. It had been midmorning, and had been raining steadily all day, when she had been informed that a soldier of the Red Hand had presented himself at the Palaces gates with a message for the Empress. For a few seconds she had wondered how the messenger had managed to make it all the way to Ebou Dar without been captured, before she reminded herself that that was hardly important. She had a message from her Husband.
When the man was finally brought before her he had been arrogant, proud and defiant. Blatantly ignoring any and all instruction he would have received, he came straight up to her without so much as a bow and presented her the letter. While the deathwatch guards had glared and waited for the word to execute him, in truth had itched for the word, she hadn't been paid them the slightest bit of attention. Instead she was transfixed by the red waxed that showed a fox startling two ravens into flight. For several minutes she had simply stared at it. Both excited and weary of what it might say. It had been an effort to break to seal and read it. Eight simple words had been written in a hasty scrawl in the middle of the parchment. 'The Band marches. Do you offer your surrender?'
After reading the message for the third time, just to be sure she hadn't missed anything; she had let a small, cold, smile grow on her features. In truth part of her wanted to laugh delightedly, it had seemed that Matrim wanted to play games with her. Another part of her yearned to send for the headsman and it had nothing to do with the fact that her husband had just declared war. Over three years without any contact and all he could manage were eight words. And nothing personal, nothing at all. As if he truly didn't care about her at all.
She hadn't dignified the letter with a response. With an angry flick of her wrist she had had the soldier thrown out of the Palace. He had left with an irritating smirk on his features, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. More than likely it had been planned, though she still, over a year latter now, had no idea to what end. Whether or not that man had been an Asha'man was something that she still mused on from time to time, though it mattered little. Matrim would have known her response before he even wrote the letter, and had acted accordingly.
That night, before anyone in the Taraisn Palace had time to react properly, he attacked. Word came in slowly at first, but gathered momentum as the extent of the damaged became apparent. A raken scout had been doing a routine sweep over Tarabon, deep into lands that the Return had controlled for years, when she had noticed a fire on the horizon. A blaze that only seemed to grow as she approached, according to the report she submitted. She had apparently flown straight towards the fire, until she recognized where she was and realized what was burning. One of the three military strongholds that secured Tarabon for the Empire, was been completely and utterly destroyed. After that she had flown straight to Ebou Dar, nearly riding her raken to death.
Inspection of the site the next day confirmed the worst. Over thirty thousand dead veterans from home, eight dead damane, with another thirty three unaccounted for. The walls, the stone walls, had somehow been blown to pieces, and her generals seemed to have a dark suspicion that it was not the work of the one power. The entire compound had been burnt to the ground; not one building was left standing. Supplies destroyed, stores burnt. The only thing that was intact was a flagpole in the middle of what had once been a proud military base of the empire. A Red Hand on a field of white fluttered in the breeze. Of her husband's army, there was no sign.
On that day, in a rage the likes of which she rarely had, she ordered the complete and utter destruction of the Band of the Red Hand. Its general was to be captured and brought before her. She had reasoned with herself that Matrim would be upset but with time she could make him see it was for the best. Though she was not at all as confident of that as she pretended she was.
Since that day not a single member of the Red Hand had been killed in her name. Days of frantic searching had followed, to appease the Empresses anger. Raken, seekers and every loyal member of her empire watched for any sign of the Red Hand, all to no avail. Apart from ten thousand troops that seemed to have been stationed in southern Cairhien, in and around the Fort, the Band of the Red Hand had vanished.
Over a year later and still there was no word of where the Red Hand was. There had not been one sighting. Her only comfort was that there Fort was still as secure as ever; the blacksmiths worked until late in the night, and most importantly still seemed to be getting paid. Dead man did not pay their blacksmiths. Rumor suggested that the Red Hand had made massive purchases of grain from Tear, but other rumors linked that grain to any other nations she cared to name. Even her Empire. What worried, what hurt her most though, were the whispers her seekers had heard coming from the Red Hands Fort. Spoken of only in corners, in hushed tones her seekers reported that those that lived and worked in the Fort spoke happily of a name. What they believed was a woman's name. Ellisande. And if the people of the Fort spoke happily of a woman it could mean only one thing. Their lord was somehow linked to this woman.
'Matrim Cauthon belongs to me,' she thundered internally, 'when I get my hands on him I'll teach him what it means to be faithful. And her,' she wouldn't even think her name, 'for consorting with the Prince of Ravens Imperial law demands she be hung. She will suffer a far more painful death than that, she will beg for death.' Before her the city of Jehannah came into view as she topped a rise and finally she found reason to smile. She had put it off for too long already, if Matrim wanted to play games with her she could most certainly play one with him. It was time to teach her husband exactly who his wife was, even if he didn't believe it. A small part of her was saddened though, forcing Matrim to come to her was something she had wished to never do, but there was nothing for it. She had given him enough time already.
Gesturing over her shoulder, she had to wait only a few seconds until Furyk Karede caught up to her and bowed in his saddle. Her title came from his lips in soft, reverent tones, a slight questioning to the word, "Empress?"
She paused as she looked him over, giving herself one last chance to change her mind. When she decided to proceed, she sadly wondered if any hope of a happy marriage ended there and then. "When we reach Jehannah you are to send word to the marath'damane that I want talks to take place. The word peace is not to be uttered, only talks." She said sharply and waited for him to nod his understanding before she continued, "I care little about there demands or what they have to say but three things are to happen. I choose the place, I choose when and I choose how long they are to go for." It would more than likely take time for word to reach Matrim. "I am also to be informed of how many Aes Sedai they will bring, so I can bring an equal number of damane."
Karede bowed from his saddle once more. His face showed no hint of surprise at the Empress wanting to meet with the so-called Aes Sedai. She was the empress, after all. He merely asked the first question that he needed to. "Where am I to say these talks are to take place, Empress?"
This time she did laugh as she played her game with Matrim. "In a village called Edmond's Field. I was told it is in the Two Rivers region of Andor." After that she had no need to worry that her soldiers would see a sad Empress, the delighted smile did not leave her face for hours. After four years she knew it would only be a few more months until Matrim was within reach once again. And she did not intend to let him stray ever again.
A/N: I don't really like this chapter but I couldn't see how to do it differently. Thanks to all those who reviewed, more to come soon.