A/N Here is the next chapter as asked. Hope you enjoy. I edited the chapter near the end.

Galad woke slowly. His arm stretched out towards the far side of the bed. It fell on nothing but coldness. A groan, filled with frustration, escaped his lips. The separation had begun even before he said good-bye. He exhaled slowly while pushing his body upright. The blankets covering him fell to the floor.

One hand ran through the length of his hair. "Light, this is going to be a long day," he murmured softly to the inside of his tent. A small flame of hope burned in him that she might still be in his tent. He waited, feeling a fool, but no voice answered his own. The remaining light in him dimmed.

The tent swayed with the morning breeze blowing gently outside. The sound of voices filtered through the fabric. Yet, Galad sat motionless. By sheer will, he managed to pull his emotionally exhausted body from bed. His words of the night before and Berelain's answer echoed in his mind.

Moving about slowly, he prepared for the coming day. Galad was still the Lord Captain Commander. Dressed all in white, he spun to face the empty bed again. A disturbing question formed. Had the entire proposal been nothing more than a dream? He stood rooted to the ground. The whole memory was so vivid in his mind. Her absence, however, made him sure it had all been nothing more than a wonderful fantasy.

Finally, he attached the belt around his waist, which held his Heron Marked blade. He straightened his posture, once again appearing regal. He was the Lord Captain Commander and he had a duty to fulfil. Personal feelings and disasters aside, he had to lead his men to the Last Battle. Yet all he wanted was to be with Berelain. To feel her smooth skin against his own and listen to her musical voice as they laughed together. His lips tingled as they remembered the touch of her soft skin.

A small part of him broke. He sank down gracefully into the only chair inside the tent. Why could love and duty not live together? His life had never been fair. His mother had disappeared. His father had died when he was still young. Though Morgase had always been kind, he had never received much affection from her. He loved Gawyn and Elayne, but they never returned much. Gawyn had always idolised him too much and Elayne despised him in some way or another, mostly for the reasons Gawyn followed him around like a lost puppy. But even to Gawyn Galad had mostly been the annoying older sibling. Anger threatened to boil inside him. No, he had no reason to be angry with them. Galad had no right. They had not chosen to be his younger siblings by another woman. He calmed down. If a man stood next to Galad he would never have noticed the range of emotions Galad was going through.

Caemlyn had been a nice city, but everyone knew him to be a Damodred. The son of a Cairhien nobleman. His place had never been in the Palace with Morgase. Galad knew he should have left when his father passed away. He let out a growl in frustration.

Deep down he knew the cause of his problems – his mother. The questions haunted him. What happened to her? Why did she leave without even leaving a letter? Somehow his mind always whispered that he, her only son, was the reason for her running away. And so the question changed over the course of a day. What had he done to make her run away? In a way the question shaped his being, from then on he had always been sure to do what was right. If he always stayed true to that ideal then he could not blame himself.

He stood before striding out of the tent. His breathing became rapid, his chest tightened. Throwing back the flap of the tent, he inhaled deeply. The fresh morning air did wonders to clear his already strained mind. His eyes closed as he stood just outside. It took a number of controlled breathes before he finally managed to open them again. Few people were awake. The most movement came from the guards still patrolling between the tents. Men saluted as they passed. Their eyes betrayed their anxiousness. There was little doubt about who caused the tension. The thought made his head swivel involuntarily towards the large camp from Tar Valon on the far side of the field.

The day progressed slowly, as he suspected. He kept his mood from deteriorating, by working hard. Reading letters, writing letters, studying maps, giving orders and helping his men. Each activity flowed quickly into the next. He did not, nor wanted, the time to think about the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart. A stray thought of her eyes caused a quill to snap in his hand – his best quill. How could one woman cause so much joy and pain in the same breath?

Trumpets sounded. Leaders were meeting somewhere. Before Galad could think about who they were for, Bornhald brought Galad's cloak and silently helped him put it on neatly. Only with the cloak fastened did the man speak. "You have been summoned, My Lord," Bornhald spoke rapidly, the tension in his voice not missed by Galad. "By the witches," he added, spitting to the side.

"Thank you, Child Bornhald." Galad stepped into the sunlight. The position of the sun did little to make him smile. It had not even reached its zenith yet. Pushing his own emotions to the side, he began to walk. His hand rested easily on the hilt of his words. Its presence comforted him even though he knew it to be of little use against Aes Sedai.

Between the two camps sat a delegation. Even from afar, Galad could make out the arrogant postures of the women. Most Whitecloaks disliked Aes Sedai for their ability to channel, Galad held a more practical dislike. He knew enough of them to know they were not darkfriends. No, they were not dark, they just bullied and manipulated people. And that was something he never thought right.

The distance kept closing. The grass beneath his feet was soft and green, something rare these days. The unnatural circle of clear sky above being another wonder. Galad was sure it had to do with the Dragon Reborn.

Some of the men standing with the Aes Sedai wore cloaks of black. Asha'man. Sudden fear sparked and then vanished. He had to remind himself that the taint was gone, or so Perrin said. A few strides further the tight grip around his sword handle lessoned. He had not noticed it tightening.

Galad settled into the void. The Oneness of a blademaster. Emotions ebbed away. The word seemed clearer and the faint buzzing of life reached his ear. He needed to be calm and in control. The future of the Whitecloaks depended on his abilities to work with the Aes Sedai. They needed his guidance to see the better side of the organisation. Perhaps he would finally get aid from Elayne. He could see her standing behind a woman with a seven striped shawl – The Amyrlin. With her there, the meeting might go well.

Walking the last few hundred paces alone, he could not help but glance around. He wished Berelain were with him. She was the First of Mayenne after all, her support would go a long way to further his cause. Mayenne was a small country, but an independent country nevertheless. That in itself was more than the Whitecloaks could say.

Nearing the gathering he passed by a mass of Aes Sedai, warders, Asha'man and other people. Some of them might even have been nobles. Strangely, the mood seemed a bit off for a mere meeting. He pushed the thoughts aside. Eventually, Galad arrived before the Amyrlin. He knew the Amyrlin to be Egwene, yet seeing it firsthand still shocked him. Strangely he had still expected Elaida, it had been difficult to believe the news he heard. "My Lady." He greeted with a low bow. Only then did he allow himself a proper look at the woman. Within the void he showed no surprise at seeing Egwene sitting before him. The girl sat like a queen, the fire in her eyes demanded respect. He dismissed them. Like Perrin, she would have to earn his respect.

"My Lord Captain Commander," she replied with a slight nod of her head. Deep within he felt outrage. His rank not only within the Whitecloaks, but as a prince of Andor deserved more than a curt nod from the woman. The Oneness alone kept him in check. With great effort he reigned in all his emotions.

"You summoned me, My Lady," he continued keeping his voice level. He would maintain proper respect no matter what she did. Egwene frowned, as if she had expected something more form him. He would not give in to what was blatant disrespect.

"I... yes," she caught herself. Those eyes of her went slightly wide before hardening again. Though a hint of frustration crept through. "I did not expect to see you as Lord Captain Commander, Galad. I heard of course, but hearing is not quite believing."

He fought hard to remain in control once again. Galad! He fumed she dared call him by his first name before commoners during a delegation. She was not Perrin, a blacksmith leading a small band of men. Egwene was the Amyrlin Seat, ruler of the most influential power. "Likewise, My Lady," he answered. His voice gave no hint at his internal monologue of disgust.

Neither said anything more. Elayne shuffled nervously about, her eyes glancing to the side. Galad followed her gaze and his eyes fell on a tall handsome man in a Warder's cloak standing behind Egwene – Gawyn Trakand. Galad's eyes flicked down to Egwene, missing nothing. What was the world coming to? An inn keepers daughter became Amyrlin and bonded his half-brother. Galad's expression never changed, though his knees began to feel weak. All of a sudden support from his family did not seem likely.

Slowly Egwene unrolled an official parchment. Galad had seen the like before. He shivered and his skin prickled. Her voice reverberated across the field. Murmers from the growing crowd died down as people listened. "As decreed by the White Tower and numerous rulers of this land. We hereby declare the Lord Captain Commander of the Whitecloaks guilty of..."

Galads mind began working over time. The words of Egwene washed over him. The guilt was not his. He had done nothing wrong. Nothing since the day his mother left. He paused, did it all come down to that day.

A small boy sat by the fountain outside the Palace in Caemlyn. He was playing merrily with the water. His eyes sparkled with mischief. No passerby would have been able to tell he was plotting. His face was placid though his mind was busy planning an outing into the kitchens to steal food. The last time had not gone well, his backside still burned from the hiding he received. His mother had been enraged. Her reaction was a little over the top for mere thievery. Thinking back, the punishment might have been for one of numerous other misdeeds. He had lost count this week. Galad shrugged, he did not mind, it was fun breaking the rules, getting caught only served to teach him caution.

Even at such a young age, Galad commanded respect. Voices whispered of his bright future. They had since the day he was born. His mother was Daughter Heir of Andor, his father a senior member of the Damodred family. A perfect political union.

Trumpets blasted behind him. Soldiers began shouting. Chaos erupted around the courtyard. The boy stood. His eyes calmly scanned the commotion, seeking opportunities. Misleading guards or tripping them were favourite pastimes of his. Youth did not stop him, however, from realising something was very wrong. Ideas of tripping men with strings or branches vanished.

Jumping down from where he stood he ran towards the throne room. His mother or grandmother would be there. Still running he nearly barrelled into Gitara Moroso, the Queens advisor. Looking up he froze. Her expression both chilled and saddened him.

"Somethings," she began, "are meant to be." Her hand rested gently on his shoulder and then she moved away. The woman halted, her eyes distant. "What your mother did will save you one day." He stared after her for a few moments, shaking his head. Then he ran, her words forgotten.

The throne room was a mass of moving bodies and loud voices. "She is gone!" a single voice cried out over the noise. It was his grandmother. "She is gone!" she wailed again and Galad pushed his way through the crowd. He wanted to be with her.

Only when he reached the far side did he see the Queen for the first time. His breath caught. She appeared to have aged a hundred years. Her face was gaunt and tears lined her cheeks as she sat crying. Galad willed himself to move. He jumped into her lap and her arms pulled him in close. He still did not know what was going on, but he knew his grandmother needed him. He barely noticed his father pacing up and down nervously, though he did not look upset.

"What's happening, grandma?" he asked with his soft high pitched boys voice.

"Your..." Her hand trembled. Long fingers worked their way through his longish hair. "Your mother is gone."

It took a few hours for the realisation to fully dawn on him. By that time he was sitting in his own bedroom. Tears never came, nor anger as he sat. By the end of a long day, he knew she had run away because she hated him. All his fooling around caused her too much pain. It was all his fault, even his parents' lack of love for each other was because of him. He rolled onto his stomach, hiding his face in his pillow. Only then with night falling over Andor did he allow tears to escape. Not even the memories of his mother laughing and playing happily with him in the gardens helped. Soon those images became buried deep within.

Crying himself to sleep, alone in a world suddenly unfriendly, he vowed to never do something wrong again. His boyish trouble making had caused so much suffering.

He stood apart, and the other people whispered quietly among themselves. He made as if he did not notice, but a large number of people stared in his direction. Of course they would be judge him. Egwene was still speaking. "... The punishment... death by execution."

Galad's only reaction was to stare at his supposed family. They did not move or blink. However, neither met his gaze. Shame was written over their faces. "I see," Galad began slowly. Slowly his hands moved towards his belt, undoing it. "I see I have little choice in this matter. My men will not be harmed I suppose?"

By her expression he knew she disliked what was happening. Then Egwene nodded. "The punishment is on the Lord Captain Commander not the Whitecloaks."

"I see," his voice slow and thoughtful. There was little to live for anymore. His mother gone, his brother and sister turned against him, maybe not be choice. He hoped they had at least fought for his innocence before this meeting. Berelain was gone as well, his position in life to low for her country. The sword dropped to the ground. The noise of its falling reverberated in his mind. A headsman's axe could not have sounded worse. Galad lived alone, he supposed it was only fitting he died alone. Gawyn moved to collect it. "I doubt you deserve the blade," Galad said calmly when his half-brother took it. "Being a blademaster is more than wielding a sword."

Gawyn looked up sharply. His eyes slightly watery. "What would you know!" Gawyn snapped back. Galad did not reply. This was hurting Gawyn more than Galad had thought at first. Gawyn took two strides and turned to look at Galad. The eye contact was brief, but at least Galad could see the pain in their depths. A moment later Galad jerked, various flows, from the Aes Sedai, wrapped around him.

He should have been outraged. He was a royal member of Andor, the Lord Captain Commander. Besides being an honourable man, the titles he held alone should have ensured that he not be tied down. He should have shouted and demanded justice. No sound escaped his mouth. Gawyn cried out in outrage. The shouts landed on deaf ears. The stern faced Aes Sedai merely stirred murderously at Gawyn and then Galad. The look in their eyes told him what he knew already, just like he had known with the Questioners, there was no point in fighting. The majority of the Aes Sedai and the influential leaders of the world had judged him guilty of crimes he did not commit and nothing he could say or do would change their minds.

His only regret was that he did not have Berelain here with him. "My Lady," he called to Egwene. "My I beg one last request."

"That will depend on the request, Galad," she replied.

"Would you tell the First of Mayenne that I am sorry." Egwene nodded sadly and he bowed his head.

Elayne clutched the chair behind Egwene tightly. Her knuckles were white from force. She blinked back her tears. She spoke softly, but her voice carried towards him. "This is a mistake, Egwene." Her eyes opened wide. "This is a big mistake, Egwene. He is angry, very."

Egwene did not respond. The only sign she heard was the crease on her forehead deepening. "You can still stop this Egwene."

Muttered whispers sounded pleased. "Told you he was guilty, needing to apologise to royalty and all!" People mumbled agreement and several laughed. Let them laugh, he thought.

"The hand of the Creater shall shelter me and be my judge and when he finds me worthy he shall shelter me in his hands." He whispered softly to himself. Somehow he knew the words to be the truth. A warmth flooded over him. A presence he had never felt before touched him. His head swivelled slightly, drawn to the far side of the field. His eyes settled on a single unfamiliar tent. The tent flaps opened.

His body lurched as the Aes Sedai began dragging him. Their flows turned him away from the tent and his eyes lifted to a raised platform. A man stood ready with a long sword "I am sorry for leaving you, Berelain," he spoke softly. Hoping his words would reach her.

All around masses of people began to laugh and cheer. Several men and women moved forward to spit at him. Rude gestures and foul language flew in his direction. Galad focused on the flame and the void. Within its safe confines, he relaxed, all things external could be ignored.

His knees crashed to the floor and his head settled down on a block. The noise calmed down. Kneeling there, the only emotion he felt was regret. Regret that he would never see Berelain again. Then he smiled, perhaps now he would be able to see his mother again. He laughed, perhaps she might even send him some help. Strangely, the last words Gitara spoke to him echoed in his mind.

Egwene lifted a hand and Galad waited. For what he did not know, but he waited.

A/N Ok, sorry for the cliffhanger (not really, but hey) will try to get the next one up as soon as possible. Thanks for reading and as always please leave a comment or two or three. They make my day!

Thanks for all the comments. I have already made some changes. Please keep them coming. I am not spending too much time plotting. So if something is out of place please tell me.