The best kept secret

Chapter 6: Guinevere

Guinevere slammed her hands against the floor, clenching them into fists. The coolness of tiles bit into her palms as she struggled to draw air into her lungs. Rand sat on her side, his body and face void of any emotions, whereas she was about to collapse due to the sheer abundance of them. She felt as if she were breathing through a sponge, panic sinking like a rock down her stomach.

"No!" Guinevere cursed herself. "You can't fall apart now!" She was an Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah, she never lost her composure, she never let her emotions take control of her; she was efficient, she was methodical and logical, her mind an atheneum of organised files she could access at any time. Panicking wasn't in her nature; she couldn't afford to let it be. Only in her nightmares did she allow such emotion to pay her a visit, when it could harm no one but herself.

And yet there she was, kneeling beside Rand, desperately pulling on every weave she could think of, trying to break the Amyrlin's shield off —but remained unsuccessful in doing so. She'd never been in that position before, and it felt like torture. Healing had always come so naturally to her; she instinctively knew which weaves to pull on, whatever the disease, whatever the damage; however, at that moment, she found herself utterly at a loss, flattened under Siuan's vastly superior power.

You're too weak, you've always been so. You turned your mother into an overbearing figure because of it; you took your brother's youth away so he could help take care of you; you, a sister from the Yellow Ajah, couldn't save your own father from his illness, he died due to your weakness—

Guinevere felt tears start to roll through her cheeks, as she was still panting over Rand's body, her hands hovering all over his chest, when all of the sudden a man forced him onto his feet, dragging him away from her, leading him out of the room, onto the forbidding hallways of the castle.

"Stop it!" She exclaimed, hurriedly standing up, following the brigade of both women and men that had so seamlessly surrounded the boy without her noticing. "Let go of him!" She screamed, her voice cracking with desperation as she seized the back of one man's tunic, attempting to shove him away. The man turned, his face a mask of emotionless indifference, and with a swift, methodical punch to her face, slammed her into the ground, leaving her gasping for air. She closed her eyes, in an attempt to seek safety, to seek her void, and shove the pain away, but all she received in return was a torrent of memories from the nightmares she had endured the night before.

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Tel'aran'rhiod

Guinevere pressed her hands against her ears, eyes closed so tightly they were almost buried under her cheeks. She let herself fall down, knees hitting the floor so forcefully they would most likely break, weren't she in a dream. The same one that had haunted her most of her life. Three little kids screaming for dear life, their shrieks piercing through her eardrums despite her attempts to block the noise.

"Mama! " They always screeched in terror, seeking for her, but Guinevere could do nothing to help them. "I'm not your mother," she thought in despair, "why are you calling for me? Whose dream is this? Who am I here? "

But she was already used to the nightmare, she had learnt how to deal with it. She always dropped into the ground, while attempting to block all of her senses away, until the floor beneath her eventually broke down, and she fell through the excruciating abyss, causing her to wake up. But that night the abyss never came, no matter how long she waited.

It felt as if hours had passed, when Guinevere finally opened her eyes in bewilderment, finding herself in the all too familiar circular room, red banners hung all around the luminous chamber. She noticed the three kids running towards her, and she instinctively opened her arms, letting all three of them plunge into her body. The children's whimpers rippled throughout her whole body, their tears staining the skirts of her dress. There were two young boys, hair as dark as the ocean at night, and a little girl, hair as auburn as a winter sunset.