Request: Hello I was wondering if you could write a Wheel of Time fic where Reader was born in Seanchan and was made damane but escaped to the Westlands and meets Moiraine.
A/N: I've not seen season two and I won't until I reread 'The One... Or Two?' and get started writing book two. So this is based on wikia and imAgInaTiOn!
It was a humilitation at one point. To wear a silver collar - yes like what you put on your property - and have it connected to one so like you. Your Sul'dam, a rude man named Geralt, wore a silver bracelet with a silver chain to bind it to your collar and to control you. With time, you came to learn Geralt had much the same potential as you and this soon became just another fact of life. You were a damane, the lowest caste of the world. You were beneath everyone and you were to speak to no one.
The damane and their sul'dam were a part of the military and so the government. But when you had no missions to fulfil, you stayed in town, wherever your sul'dam went. You tried to grab or break the collar daily, suffering the pain much less than the desperation. Geralt always added an additional slap after the pain debilitated you. You almost lost faith in the world, in people.
The people were helpless, but they were broke and so you and Geralt were sent to collect taxes or souls. It broke your heart to set an innocent village on fire. Tears even silently built in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You watched the desperate people run for safety or water, but no retardant would work on the fire you conjured on your master's command. He turned and brandished his sword, battling one-handedly. He had his bound wrist behind his back to keep the rebel from severing the chain. He sent faint suggestions to you to help him, but he was distracted enough that you could do nothing.
Something pulled at your sleeve. Turning, you looked down to find a small child coated in soot, but unaffected and uninjured. She looked up at you with wide, childish eyes, but there was something distinctly adult, more mature in those orbs. "My muma said damane can't help what they do. You do what you're told."
You slowly sunk to squat by the child, focus entirely off Geralt. "Yes," you admitted, but you said nothing else. Your hand rose to fiddle with the collar you'd never adjusted to, but you dropped it before you could inflict harm on yourself. You didn't dare mention to the girl that this could become of anyone.
Small hands reached up for your head and you assumed the sweet girl wanted a hug. Instead, the metal fell away from your throat and you looked down in awe. Your One Power automatically reached out to fix what you'd been regretting since you'd done it. The fires went out and Geralt suddenly flew straight up into the air. You kept his momentum for a moment then let go. You urged the pair back into their homes. No one would want to be around when he met the ground again.
*
You were something of an expert in your craft once free and it was all too easy to be invisible and stow away. The boat docked in the Westlands and you took off for freedom.
This land was very different from your own, you soon came to realize. The plants, temperature, climate, people! While they were suspicious of anyone they didn't know, you had somehow gained their respect. Perhaps you gave off power or they knew you hailed from Seanchan. But you were never anywhere long enough to be found out.
You always thought travelling a lot would keep you safe, but it was by going in the opposite direction of a wandering Aes Sedai that you were put in more danger than you had been in. Your heart was at risk the second you spotted the stoic and tall blue-clad woman atop her horse. Much of her was covered by clothes , but you saw nobility in the way she carried herself, you knew from experience you could daydream about those hands for days, and an odd feeling washed over you as she caught you staring. You looked away quickly, abashed to have been seen. It hardly mattered; you would be taking the road they arrived via in a few short hours. You averted your gaze and picked up a device you'd never seen before. Putting it back with a grimace, you turned and went to escape into isolation.
Instead, you bumped into a stoic blue-clad form. She didn't give, but rather caught your shoulder when you jumped and nearly lost your footing. "Are you okay?" she asked before you had the chance to apologize.
Looking up, you discovered it was the woman now off her horse. You gulped, now recognizing the feelings. She could channel, just like you. "Yes," you answered too quickly.
A single brunette eyebrow rose suspiciously. "I'm Moiraine," she barreled through. Now under a foot away from her, you could see every crevice of her face. You wouldn't guess she smiled very much, or at all in public, but she saw more without the blinding expression. Her eyes were a calm blue you could cling to in the midst of a crisis. "You're not from around here," she noticed, a genius.
Did you give away an accent with a single word? "No, I'm just passing through."
Moiraine nodded, familiar with the sentiment. She looked you up and down. "Have you a free place at your hearth?" she asked despite having just been told you didn't live in this town.
You looked over at her shoulder. Her white horse and her companion's were bound by the inn. "I have been staying where your friend currently is, but I'm leaving tonight."
She smiled in a persuasive way, and also teasing. "Then, share our hearth. You could use the food," Moraine mused, picking at your silver dress, your damane attire which you'd cut. "We can talk," she offered, arm out. "Please."
You got the feeling she was acting out of character, asking politely and all, so you took the extended hand. The strange feeling increased twenty-fold at the contact. Warmth flooded your insides and you followed Moiraine into the inn and found her male companion.
He sat at a table with food and he didn't seem surprised that Moiraine had brought a stranger with her. She introduced you to him and Lan to you. "Where are you from?" was the first thing Lan said once you knew his name.
You stared at him, waiting for him to realize you weren't going to answer. You also wanted him to know that wasn't a question you were comfortable with. "Where are you from?" you deflected, both of them staring you down. Was that their default?
"The Borderlands," he answered immediately.
"Cairhien," Moiraine also replied, without hesitation.
You stared at both of them, excuseless. "Seanchan."
Lan's jaw dropped, but Moiraine looked validated, like she'd already known. Her all-knowing lapis orbs fell to your neck, bared for all the world to see, and she raised her chin in second-hand pride.
"You must've fought your way to freedom," Lan guessed.
You wrinkled your nose, remembering all the harm you'd inflicted, entirely with your curse. It had all been without your consent and you knew you would never hurt anyone again if you didn't have to.
The pair shared an impressive look. "Were you bound?" Moiraine asked.
You stood very suddenly, a survivor not a spectacle.
Once you attempted to leave,Moiraine quickly held your wrist. You flinched so she let go and stood. "You have our apologies. I knew you were special. We were only trying to decipher how. Now that I know, you can come to the White Tower to-"
"No." You didn't shout or give away any emotions, but you'd been bound to an organization with their own ideas of how and why you should channel long enough. You were done.
Moiraine smiled again, but not like she knew your plan. More like she saw a bit of herself in you, but you expressed it more. "Very well." Lan rose and retreated to their shared room, after telling Moiraine - and inadvertently you - the location of the said lodging.
You weren't sure you wanted to remain, but the blue-clad woman was drawing you in by not breaking eye contact. She was neither scared nor targeting you. But it was still odd. "You are an Aes Sedai?" you asked. It was hardly a question, as she'd given herself away by associating with the White Tower. You knew damane supposedly descended from them, or at least the Aes Sedai in Seanchan when they'd separated from the Westlands had set up the laws for their enslavement. The blue nodded. It was a tragedy, the way girls who could channel were treated worldwide. "But I rarely return to the Tower." She was almost coy in the way she looked up at you, through her eyelashes. She didn't want you to feel like she would make you - or could since you had full control - or that she was some sort of trap. She could only imagine how you were feeling. Paranoia, she assumed, would be the most prominent.
Not tired, was another. Moiraine vowed to stay awake until you left, if you decided to. Luckily, you didn't. Talking with Moiraine seemed to be enough encouragement and just like that, you were able to trust one woman, the first person you would ever trust. Perhaps the last. She didn't seem like the type to tell everyone everything. You almost believed you were the first to know half the stories she told you that night; she had said as much, after all.
Words only went so far, though, and it felt like a breakthrough when Moiraine rested her hand on your arm. You didn't flinch, nor when she scooted to sit right beside you. You even leaned your head on her shoulder, feeling sleepy, too sleepy to travel. And the hand touching your hair, playing with it, wasn't helping. You looked over at Moiraine to find her already staring at you. She wasn't that tiny bit embarrassed that you were. In fact, your insecurity amused her. She cleared your face of any hair in front of it, hand resting on your neck.
You shivered at the unexpected warmth where you'd only felt cold metal for so long.
Of course, the Sedai noticed. She swept it all over your shoulder and pretended she'd missed a few strands, doing so again and again. You were hardly breathing, and you kept swallowing uselessly as your throat was already so dry. But you said not a word. You weren't sure what to say, not exactly minding, but this didn't seem public appropriate.
Meanwhile, Moiraine was tickled pink at every reaction you silently told. She knew the likely source of your sensitivity and that was very serious, but you were so naive about everything, including yourself. Slowly but calculating, the Blue leaned toward you. Hands on your waist, Moiraine pressed one chaste but moist kiss to your neck.