As usual all speech in italics is in the Old Tongue.
Interlude XIII - Realisations
Sammael thought back to his conversation with Graendal. She'd be expecting him soon. He knew he was due to go back to her to get her answer to his proposal and yet, as that deadline got closer, he found himself less and less eager for it. Had he just been deluding himself about what he wanted to do?
Every time he thought of Graendal all he could see was the spark of life draining out of terrified brown eyes, pleading with him for help. How could he even justify that? Sacrifices needed to be made to preserve what he could. Fuck. When he was nae'blis that wouldn't be happening, but he wasn't nae'blis and were some sacrifices worth it? For years he'd have said yes, but he couldn't deny that he wasn't sure now.
How could anyone work with a monster like Graendal? What had he even been thinking? When he'd made his way to Shayol Ghul with her she'd seemed like such a kindred spirit. Two people failed by the world, ready to bend it into the shape that it should be. She'd understood him, sympathised, felt the same things! He'd seen her indulge her pleasures before, what was wrong with him?
Was revenge on Lews Therin, on Ishamael or Lanfear worth this? Was preserving what he could of the world in the face of the failings of the Light worth it?
Inevitably, as it had so many times since his first visit to Tear, his mind went back to Taija. He didn't need to concentrate to see her disgusted, devastated face.
"Pathetic," Sammael muttered to himself, not sure whether he was agreeing with her or condemning her.
He'd been thinking though. He wouldn't be who he was if he hadn't been. Using Graendal to help him destroy Lews Therin's allies wasn't going to work. Tel suspected she was just stringing him along anyway, but in his current state he couldn't seriously consider fighting by her side. Even Lews Therin didn't deserve a fate like the one that Graendal would inflict on him. No one did.
Still, Sammael knew how to work around his own failings. Taija had thrown him off, he was having an emotional moment. That was to be expected. It would pass. He had few weaknesses, but knowing them allowed him to minimise them.
Graendal was disgusting, she always had been, and he lowered himself by working with her. Going to her had been a foolish idea, pathetically seeking comfort from someone who would never be capable of giving it. Fuck. Pathetic.
Fortunately he had a plan that would make Graendal and the rest of the Chosen unnecessary, irrelevant even. It all made much more sense. Why was he even scrabbling around with filth like her, when he could have his revenge and ascend to lead the forces of the Shadow at the same time?
That was why he was walking through the dimly lit corridors of the Stone of Tear, wearing the drab clothes of a servant and carrying a pitcher of wine. Lews Therin had revealed himself to the world by taking Callandor. He had also made himself a target for any of the Chosen that wished to take the sa'angreal from him.
Taija had removed the tracking weave from the boy, of course she'd worked that out. However, it was easy enough to find Lews Therin now that he had claimed the mantle of Dragon once again. The boy would be on his guard, no doubt, but no man could be awake at all hours.
No one ever looked at servants. His enemies thought him too arrogant to abase himself like this, but they always underestimated his desire for victory. He hated to be looked down upon, to be in second place, but that didn't mean he couldn't pretend when he had to. He wasn't Demandred.
Of course Taija had placed anti-Traveling wards around the Stone, for all her failings she wasn't completely stupid, but they did little to prevent someone like him from simply walking in. Bribes, compulsion, easy disguises. He hardly needed to be Moghedien to go straight through their security, especially with the disruption to everything that came with Lews Therin taking over.
When Sammael reached the door to Lews Therin's room he paused. If the boy had Callandor with him then this would become a far riskier venture, he needed to be cautious. He would only strike when he could be assured of surprise and then he could take the sa'angreal for himself. Hopefully the boy would be asleep.
Cautiously he leaned towards the door, listening. There was someone speaking inside. Was Lews Therin alone? It was too much of a risk to go in if there were other people with him. The wrong ones would mean disaster. What if it was Taija? He cringed at the thought and then remembered himself, bringing his face back to its normal cold composure. He'd only have one shot at this.
Sammael carefully sent out inverted flows of spirit to check for any wards spun with saidar, or less likely inverted saidin, around the room. They found nothing, so the next step was an inverted web of spirit and air that would allow him to hear clearly whatever was being said in there.
He channeled, extending the web away from him, brushing it under the door and suddenly everything in the room was as clearly audible as if he was standing next to Lews Therin.
He could hear boots pacing, back and forth and a man's voice, quietly angry. He sounded like he'd been speaking for some time. "…am I meant to do? I'm not ready for this. How can I be the Dragon? I just want to go home." It didn't sound like Lews Therin, but the voice was unmistakable so he continued to listen.
"They're all looking at me, expecting me to take charge and I've got no idea. The High Lords, the Tairens, even these black-veiled Dedicated, they all think I've got answers. How can I deal with it? Burn me!" He seemed to be ranting, but Sammael couldn't hear anyone else. Maybe he was alone?
"Taija tells me to just be myself and do my best." Tel ignored the lurch in his stomach at her name. "What does she know though, she's so, so centred and all I can do is flail along as the Wheel drags me where it will." Surely there couldn't be anyone else in there… This really didn't sound like Lews Therin, he was always full of himself, in control and confident to the point of offensive pomposity at times.
"If I make the slightest slip the Shadow wins. If I show any weakness a High Lord will put a knife in my back and half the world will thank him for it. How am I meant to save these people? How can they be asking this from me?!" Lews Therin's voice rose to an agonised cry and Tel heard a loud thump followed by a curse.
"The Forsaken want me dead and I can barely even hold saidin. Every time I do it's like bathing in filth and yet I want more. What am I even meant to do? I'll kill myself, or worse someone else. Won't that be a thing, recreating the Kinslayer without even meaning to…" A dark chuckle tore its way out of Lews Therin.
"The Shadow waits for me with open arms and daggers concealed behind them, aes sedai seeking to manipulate me, the world against me." There was a soft thud, Tel imagined it might be Lews Therin throwing himself onto his bed.
Lews Therin's voice dropped to a whisper and then started to rise. "I just want to go back to the Two Rivers, see Tam, be back on the farm. I didn't ask for this. They all look at me like I'm Lews Therin Kinslayer. They don't know me, I'm not him! I'm Rand al'Thor! Taija's the only one who even looks at me as a person these days, but how can I live up to what she says when I'm just going to go mad and kill everyone around me, unless I can die in the Last Battle first. What in the Light am I meant to do?" Was that a sob? Surely not.
"I need to be better, to do better than the Dragon ever did, but I don't know how. How can I?!" Lews Therin continued to rant to himself, but Tel didn't need to hear anymore. He didn't want to. He let his web dissipate, the sound fading into the background.
He could walk in and kill the boy right now. No one would stop him, there was no one to help Lews Therin and the boy was clearly incapable of doing it himself. The man he hated most in the world was at his mercy.
So why wasn't he moving? His hand refusing to rise to the door handle, his feet rooted in place.
Tel just felt ill. Sick to his stomach. He couldn't go on like this, if he kept it up someone was going to kill him. Whether it was one of the Chosen or someone on the side of the Light, he just wasn't in a fit state to fight. He needed to get out of here before someone saw him standing outside Lews Therin's door and started asking questions.
After a moment he turned on his heel. He needed to leave. This wasn't even Lews Therin, it was just some boy. Trying to do his best against monsters like Graendal. Monsters like Sammael. Monsters like Tel Janin.
Thinking felt like wading through treacle, but as he strode as fast he safely could towards the outside world, to get out from under Taija's wards his mind never stopped moving.
Lews Therin and his friends working together to fight him. Laughing together. Friendship, allies, trust. Horrified screams as he betrayed his own comrades. Dead eyes staring emptily up at him from corpses scattered across the broken concrete. Lined of broken slaves trooping past him. Faces filled with terrified hate from prisoners who already knew their fates. The delighted joy dancing in Graendal's eyes. Life fading from deep brown eyes.
As soon as he stepped out from under Taija's wards he opened a gateway straight to his bedroom with a snarl. Why couldn't he get his head straight!?
If it was still the Second Age he'd have been pulled off the line by now, ordered into a period of rest and recovery. He gave a choking laugh at the idea of the Shadow ever caring that much about its servants. When had he last laughed? He'd told himself he'd have the last laugh over the other Chosen, but there was no laughter to be had.
Without conscious thought he sank to the floor, his back against the wall, not even bothering to light the lamps with the Power.
What was it all worth? He'd talked, ranted to Taija about the failings of the Light, about revenge. What had he actually done? Ishamael lived. Lanfear lived. The Shadow was as vile as it ever was. Pathetic. She was right. How could she understand? There was nothing worth understanding.
He couldn't even kill Lews Therin. Why did he even want to kill Lews Therin? Because he'd killed Taija? He hadn't. Because he'd doomed the Light with his refusal to support Tel? Tel had stabbed the Light in the back. Because Lews Therin didn't fight hard enough for the Light? Lews Therin had knowingly gone to his doom rather than surrender, unlike him. Because Lews Therin was a better man than he'd ever been?
This wasn't even really Lews Therin, this was a frightened boy doing his best in the face of an implacably hostile world.
In this Age they said no man could walk in the Shadow so long he could not come back to the Light. Bollocks. Some things were unforgivable, could not be justified. He'd seen it in her eyes. He was damned, there was no coming back.
Taija's face seemed to hover at the edge of his vision unbanishable and for the first time since he'd visited Shayol Ghul Tel Janin admitted it to himself, mumbling into the dark of his bedroom, "I was wrong."