The best kept secret

Chapter 8: Guinevere

With a simple blow of her lips, Lanfear sent them flying through the portal, and Guinevere instantly felt the warmth and powdery feeling of the sea engulfing her. She let herself immerse in it, calmness washing over her. Water had always had that effect on her, ever since she could remember. 'My little guppy', her father used to call her, she remembered with fondness, before the memory turned blue. Torvin isn't your father.

And Moiraine is my mother , Guinevere thought, closing her eyes under the water, salt prickling her lips. I should've realised before . Her mother's... Anvaere's —she had to correct herself— reluctance to talk about Moiraine, her uncanny resemblance to the woman, her dreams as of late ... It all was so obvious, so plain to the eye. She felt so stupid, so deceived. How did I miss it? How didn't I realise? Why was it kept away from me? How did so many adults consent to it? Why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel relieved? Why do I feel so resentful? How could Moiraine care so little for me? How could she not wish to see me at least once? Why didn't she care? Why does she still not care—? Her thoughts became overwhelmed by a piercing pain in her head, as if hammers were banging on it, as her lungs suffocated in water. She was drowning . She briskly opened her eyes, salt burning on them, as her arms desperately reached for the surface, when a strong hold grabbed her from her armpits and hastily pulled her out of the water. Guinevere took deep, desperate breaths, coughing water away from her lungs.

"Burn me!" Lan complained, water up to his chest, as he carried her to the shore. "Haven't you been taught how to swim?"

Guinevere was so dumbfounded by the question, she hesitated for a moment before answering, staring at the man with an irritated look on her face. "Of course I know how to swim," she scoffed, as he placed her on the ground, her feet warming up at being slightly buried in the hot sand, "I was just... thinking."

"On how drowning would make for a fitting end?" The man mocked her, making sure her stance was steady before letting her go.

Guinevere creased her eyes in astonishment. "Aren't you supposed to be the quiet one? The brooding one?" She silently remarked, annoyed, crossing her arms against the wet fabric over her chest. Guinevere glanced around and saw nothing but water and sand. They were in a desert that stretched to the ocean's shore. This isn't Falme, she realised, anxiously snapping her head around. How did we end up here? Her mind was a blur of memories, and she was confused for a second, before all the recent events came rushing back to her.

Lanfear almost killing her felt like a dream, something unreal, but the tightness of the silver linings pressing against her skin proved otherwise.

She'd also attacked the Amyrlin, and Guinevere had tried to help her, before Lanfear furiously dragged her into the Ways.

Guinevere was enraged at the woman. She curious about why she hated her so much. Moiraine was curious about her dreams.

Lanfear opened the portal to Falme.

Lanfear thrusted into her brain, her mind drowning in painful realisations. She admitted them three being important, that they all had a role to play still in Falme.

Lanfear sent them flying through the portal.

But they weren't in Falme.

What is Lanfear planning?

Guinevere kept on looking around, when her eyes stumbled upon her aunt Moiraine — your mother, Moiraine — away from the shore, studying their location. "Where are we?" She asked the Warder.

"I don't know," Lan confessed, "but we better follow her." He said, pointing towards the Aes Sedai. Guinevere glared at the older woman, feeling her skin burning with all fury and rage and resentment and sadness and curiosity bottled up on her.