Wheel of Time fic


Well-Known Member
I can neither justify nor explain what led me to this.

I do, however need feedback and some beta readers before I post this on FFnet.

Ladies and gents, one and all, I present to youà.



Prologue û Oppressed


ôàand in the valley of the Red Eagle, the old blood ran true in His veins. It burned in His heart and seared His soul, screaming for the right to taste the blood of the ancient enemy once moreàö
-excerpt from the The Beginning : The Reborn Chroncicle, composed by Noal Charin, in the Year of Woe 877, of the New Era, the Third Age.

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass leaving memories that become legend, and then fade to myth, and are long forgot when that Age comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wing was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings in the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.

In a place once known Manetheren, thorn to the Dark OneÆs foot and bramble to his hand, lay sprawled the sleepy community of the Two Rivers. No remnant of past glories remained save forgotten ruins, hidden in the mountains, and all that remained of their terrible defiance was a stubbornness that was legendary and inherited through many generations.

The Winespring Inn, named after the Winespring Water, one of the two rivers that gave the Two Rivers their name, sat as a centerpiece to EmondÆs Field, a goodly sized inn thatÆs owner was also the Mayor.

So close to Bel Tine, the spring festival that everyone prepared for months in advance, the inn was doing a roaring trade. The bar was full, and many men and women were resting from the strenuous activities that came with preparation.

Most had almost forgotten the terrible tragedy that had occurred not even weeks ago. A death in the MayorÆs family, due to an unexplainable disease. Nynaeve had been away visiting another village, unable to get back in time to do anything but make the youngest daughter of Brandelwyn AlÆVereÆs four, Egwene, comfortable as she succumbed to fevers and shaking and chills.

Not some. One of which was Rand AlÆThor.

He sat at the end of the bar, staring into the depths of his mug of apple cider. He was only fifteen, going onto sixteen summers old, therefore not old enough to taste of his own fatherÆs famous apple brandy.
Idly he pondered if the looks Bran was sending him from across the bar, oneÆs of mirrored and shared grief, meant that he might let him try, just this once. Maybe. Probably.

Of course, this speculation was only to take his mind off of the matter that seemed to be strangling him silently. Egwene.

The other girls would never be quite as pretty as she would be. Maybe thatÆs why they were so nasty to her. She always did like hanging around with Mat and Perrin, Dav and Wil, all the boys and me. Rand shook his glass slightly, watching the amber swirl around slowly. He hadnÆt drank much. He wasnÆt very hungry or thirsty at the moment.

He had always known that he and Egwene had something different. There had been plenty of rumors, that his Da was going to into marriage discussions with Mistress AlÆVere.

But that doesnÆt matter now, does it? Light, Egweneà

Two women walked in, mopping their brows. From their red hands the old, unimportant dresses they didnÆt care about, Rand surmised they had been washing the wool. He looked back down. His gaze was dull as he examined the whorls of the aged oak counter.

Bran sent him a worried glance, as the two women took the two empty stools just to RandÆs left.

He let his mind drift, somewhere, anywhere but to her. They had had a bumper crop of apples this year, and Tam had been able to make nearly twice his normal harvest.

In addition, Tam AlÆThorÆs apple brandy had sold exceptionally well this year. A Ghealdan merchant caravan had found their way up north into the Two Rivers, and had become enamored with the new community. They had declared that his fatherÆs brandy was the best they had ever tasted, and promised to return the next year. They had bought up nearly his entire stock.

Da said he might buy some extra seed and see if the Aynals might give up that orchard heÆs had his eye on for a while. We also could use a new mule, since BelaÆs getting into her autumn years nowà

ôLight, Mari, the sunÆs really packing down isnÆt it? Going to be a burning summer, I just know it.ö The woman gabbed to her friend. She took the mug of cider from the innkeeper with a nod. ôThanks, Bran. Sorry to hear about your daughter, by the way, terrible shame, that.ö RandÆs grip tightened on his mug, until his knuckles turned nearly white.

Bran merely nodded woodenly, and moved on, taking two empty glasses from another Rivers man to clean.

The woman turned back. ôSo, did you hear? Cari CoplanÆs been making calf eyes at that new merchantÆs guard!ö Her tone was scandalized. ôLight, the womanÆs hardly decent, isnÆt she?ö

ôIs that it? A æterrible shameÆ?ö

RandÆs voice was slightly hoarse, having not used it since he asked Bran for something to drink a good while ago, but it cracked like a whip.

The woman turned to him, as if surprised he could speak. ôIt is, isnÆt it? She was a pretty little thing, real sad, it was.ö

Her pitying tone drove Rand over the edge. ôSo is that it? YouÆre just going to forget about her, start planning for Bel Tine and pretend her death never happened!?ö Nearby, Bran sent him a look of alarm.

Her friend, Mari, flipped her braid over her shoulder and leveled a look at him. ôThereÆs no reason for that tone, young man.ö

The other woman nodded. ôThatÆs right. She was a nice girl, and itÆs a tragic thing sheÆs gone, but lifeÆs got to move on. The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills.ö She quoted.

Rand stood up, knocking over his glass in the process. ôDonÆt talk about her like you know her! You didnÆt!ö He roared, pointing a finger at her. ôYou didnÆt know anything about her!ö

ôBlood and ashes, Rand!ö Someone grabbed his shoulder.

He turned to see Brandelwyn AlÆVere, staring at him with wide eyes. Rand looked around. The whole inn had gone quiet, staring in shock or wariness at him. The woman and her friend had gone white as sheets.

ôMaybe you should take a walk.ö Bran said slowly, as if talking to a scared horse about to bolt.

RandÆs eyes tightened, and he gritted his teeth. His throat felt hot and bitter. He shook free of the older manÆs grip and stormed out of the inn.


He found his father by the merchantÆs caravan, helping load caskets on. Normally, the merchantÆs guard or helpers would do it, but Tam always had seen things through to the end, and never shied away from hard work. It was one of the reasons why his father was one of the most well liked men in the village.

He spotted Rand waiting a little ways off and said a brief word to one of the men, before heading over his way.

ôWhat is it, Rand?ö He asked.

ôàCan we go home, Da?ö

Tam was surprised. ôIÆve got to finish up loading this brandy. DonÆt you want to stay for Winternight? YouÆve always stayed.ö

ôPlease?ö Rand felt his stomach burn with oily shame.

Tam looked at RandÆs clenched fists, and rigid position. ôAlright, Rand. Let me just tell Basram, over there.ö He turned and began walking over to the men. ôRemember lad, the flame, and the void.ö He called over his shoulder.

Rand screwed his eyes shut, and went over the mental exercise that his father had taught him, when his mother had died. Clear your mind. Imagine a single, strong flame. Now, feed all your emotions to it.

He was silent the entire cart ride home, and Tam mercifully chose not to press it.

Feed it to the flame. Burn it. By the Light, how long until there is nothing left to burn? Why wonÆt it just burn?


He made his decision that night.

His father was washing the plates from their modest supper, scrubbing them fiercely with a rag in a tub of soapy water. Rand sidled into the room and leaned against the wall, trying to formulate what he would say in his mind.

He finally decided to just be out with it. ôDa?ö

Tam didnÆt turn around. ôRand? WhatÆll you need?ö

The clay plate clattered as he stacked it on top of the next one. ôIÆveàIÆve got to leave.ö Rand blurted out. It sounded overly loud in the room.

ôChanged your mind about Winternight?ö Tam asked. He forced the rag inside a clay cup and began rubbing away the sticky excess of the cider. ôNot surprised. A little bit of festivity will get your mind off of things.ö

Rand knew what æthingsÆ he was talking about. He clenched his fist and his eyes tightened. ôNoàno, Da. Not Winternight. I want to leaveàleave the Two Rivers.ö

His father paused on the plate he was scrubbing. Slowly, he set it aside and draped the rag over the side of the tub, before turning around. TamÆs expression was bland.

ôAlright then, Rand. When were you planning on going?ö

The easy acceptance shocked Rand. ôJust like that? YouÆre not going to try and stop me?ö He asked incredulously.

Tam smiled. It was a sad smile. ôSometimes, a bit of journeying is just as good as carousing for leaving behind bad memories. I would know.ö He crossed his legs and twined his fingers together, looking down. ôI left here when my brother died. He got killed, by a pack of wolves. I was the one that found him.ö

ôYour brother? I didnÆt know you had a brother.ö Rand said, frowning.

Tam waved a hand. ôSÆnot important. What IÆm saying, Rand, is itÆs perfectly natural to want to get away. ItÆs what I did. Ran away, traveled with some Tinkers for a while, joined an army, fought in the Aiel War. Afterwards, I met your mother, and came back and settled down.ö

ôYou fought in an army?ö Rand exclaimed. All this new information was slightly overwhelming. Come to think of it, Tam always had known a lot of tales about wars.

ôSure did. Anyway, Rand, IÆm not going to stop you if you want to leave. How soon?ö

ôIs tomorrow too soon?ö Rand asked hesitantly.

Tam blinked in surprise. ôTomorrow? Blood and ashes, Rand, if thatÆs the case weÆd better get packing!ö

He clapped Rand on the back, and they set upon their work in an almost jovial mood.

Rand could almost forget the reason he was leaving. Almost.


The morning was misty, and Rand felt the cool air press damply against his skin. A woodfinch called and was answered, before they repeated the process. Thankfully, the bitemes would not come out until early summer.

He shouldered the saddle and looked around. Tam had left some time ago, and would be back soon.

IÆm leaving. IÆm leaving the Two Rivers. Rand could scarcely believe it. It seemed so unreal. Light, I wonder what Nynaeve will say when she finds out? What Mat and Perrin will say?

The steady thump of a horseÆs hooves caught RandÆs attention. He turned to see Tam leading a horse in from the woods, a chestnut stallion that looked to be in good condition, though Rand couldnÆt be totally sure. Mat was the horse expert, not him.

ôI bought it from AbellÆs stable.ö Tam announced, answered RandÆs unasked question. ôHe said to wish you luck.ö

ôTell him thanks, next time you see him.ö Rand replied.

ôI will. LetÆs get you saddled up.ö

They used an old saddle, still serviceable, that had been lying in a corner of their barn for as long as Rand could remember. They packed some cheese and bread, tightly bound in sacks, and a few waterskins, along with a single, very small cask of apple brandy.

When Rand asked, Tam grinned. ôSometimes a man needs something to warm him on a cold night, and sometimes on those nights, thereÆs no women around. This is for that night.ö

Rand blushed red at that.

When all was said and done, Rand mounted the horse, testing the stirrups with his boots. He danced the horse in a circle. It snorted and pawed the ground. Young, but well-enough trained. Rand mentally decided.

Tam yanked the last strap tight and stepped back, slapping his hands. He looked up at his son.

ôSo, whatÆre your plans?ö Tam asked, placing his hands on his hips. ôBaerlon, then Caemlyn, perhaps?ö They had both looked at a map the previous night.

Rand glanced to the side, where the craggy peaks of his destination waited. ôNo. I think IÆll go west. IÆve always wondered whatÆs over the Mountains of Mist. IÆll hit Darkwood, first, right? Then IÆll come out in the middle of Almoth Plain, in Arad Doman.ö

ôTake care not to get lost. The Mountains are treacherous.ö Tam warned. ôWhatÆll you do after that?ö

ôI donÆt know.ö An idea hit him. ôMaybe IÆll do what you did. You know, join an army.ö

TamÆs eyes widened. ôYou will, will you? Well, I suppose an adventure isnÆt an adventure without a measure of danger.ö His tone had a resigned note to it. ôWait here a moment.ö He said, before running quickly back into the house.

Rand waited, toying with the reins.
Tam came out a little while later, holding a thin case and a letter, sealed with red wax Rand recognized from their dinner table candles.

Rand didnÆt recognize, however, the seal itself, a golden bee with a multitude of bars and arcs at the bottom of the circle of wax. He accepted the case after tucking the letter away in one of the saddlebags, and opened it.

His breath caught. Inside, laid a sword. With a golden heron emblazoned on the hilt and sheath, it looked magnificent. Rand drew it and held it in front of him, awed.

ôFor the love of the Light, Da, how long have you had this?ö Rand exclaimed incredulously.

Rand took a few practice swings with it, and Tam chuckled. ôCareful with that. With all you know about swords, I donÆt doubt you might stab yourself in the foot. IÆve had it since I was a Second-Captain in the Army of Illian. Now, Rand, if you give the recruiter that letterùtake care to not let the wax breakùyou can start out above infantry, so youÆre not just fodder for the first ranks.ö

Rand felt something twist and ache in his chest. He smiled. ôThanks, Da.ö

Tam nodded. ôKeep your wits about you, out there. Your greatest weapon isnÆt your sword or the strength in your arms, but-ô Tam tapped his head with one finger. ô-up there. Your mind and will. And remember, RandàyouÆre always welcome back here, whether youÆre ready to come home or just need a place to rest your bones.ö

IÆm not sure if IÆll ever be ready. He answered mentally.

But what he said was different. ôYeah, Da. I know.ö

Tam smiled. ôThen take care, Rand. Come home safe. Maybe with a woman too, hm?ö

Rand wheeled his horse around. He stared for a moment, at the peaks of the Mountains of Mist. At the gateway he would take to freedom.

Egwene, you always did want to see the world. Rand mused. I guess IÆll see it for you.

Then, with a swift kick, he left the safety of home and threw himself into a journey that would take him to the depths of human morality, through the warpaths of the Great Blight, into the bowels of darkness and face to face with death itself.


If you haven't guessed, I built this on the premise that Egwene died from the channeler's fever instead of lived, since Nynaeve wasn't there.

Yes, I know she was a main character. If you don't like it, then you may hate me, detest me, and live in an unsightly manner.

Need feedback.


Well-Known Member
...I don't hate you.

Anything more than that will require me seeing more of this.


Well-Known Member
One minor nitpick: I seem to rememeber Nynaeve saying that she was only the Wisdom's Apprentice, not the Wisdom, when she cured Egwene. Don't know when, and I might be wrong, but I remember that line.

And I echo what Captain Planet said. The world needs more WoT fanfiction.


Well-Known Member
There's a thread in Book Talk. I actually posted this idea a few days ago there...and the leading idea is there too.


Well-Known Member
Just don't forget: WoT fiction is cursed.

This story will never be finished.

In the offchance you DO finish the story, it'll turn out the storyline is nowhere near resolved and you have to a sequel for anything to make sense... and the sequel won't be finished.

It's just how WoT fiction works.

As for the story itself, its a great start... but thats it. Needs more to it before you can really judge it.


Well-Known Member
...sadly, you are right. Jordan's world is too big for anyone else's story to run around in and finish, unless they had the skill of Jordan himself (which is impossible), plus the persistance of James Patterson.

But nevertheless, I will give it a good run.


Well-Known Member
Yeah, especially since the books aren't finished either.


Well-Known Member
Halcyon7 said:
...sadly, you are right. Jordan's world is too big for anyone else's story to run around in and finish, unless they had the skill of Jordan himself (which is impossible), plus the persistance of James Patterson.

But nevertheless, I will give it a good run.
Oh, no, theres more reasons then that.

Take for instance The Pegasus Cycle.
First chapter here

Instead of running into the problem of a too huge story... Strider got cease and desist emails from lawyers. Here's the thread from anifics discussing it... Strider's post confirms what happened.

It's just an immutable law of fanfiction. If WoT is involved, something will happen to cause the story to be incomplete. Whether it be too much depth, or outside interference... The story can't be allowed to be finished.

Just warnin ya now (and yes, you might very well recognize a lot of the names from that thread... It is all the same people you think they are).


Well-Known Member
So basically it's like the curse on the Defense position in Harry Potter, except it applies to fics? Hmm.

As for the lawyer thingie, hows about if I write very, very clearly that I DO NOT own Wheel of Time, and state the publishing company(TOR books, right?) and RJ and all of them do.

Will that work?

And like I said...I know I probably won't finish it.

But I write for the fun of writing. And writing 007!Rand is gunna be fun.

Speaking of which...I have come up with quite possibly the most win ever contained in one WoT fic idea.

Warhammer40K!Wheel of Time.

"The Dark One will fall...by my hands he shall be broken. The Dragon Reborn protects."





Well-Known Member
That is indeed made of awesome and win, with a sprinkling of WTF on it.


Well-Known Member
You know... I only skimmed through this the first time through, but I felt something was off when you mentioned Egwene dying from channeler's fever.

Egwene never got the wilder sickness, only Nynaeve did. And curing the illness Egwene had (which wasn't at all life threatening and the current Wisdom had completely in hand) is what caused Nynaeve to become a wilder. Egwene's first channeling was guided by Moraine to make the ball glow and thus she never had the sickness.

Not sure if it was brought up before. Sorry if it was.


Well-Known Member
Halcyon7 said:
So basically it's like the curse on the Defense position in Harry Potter, except it applies to fics? Hmm.

As for the lawyer thingie, hows about if I write very, very clearly that I DO NOT own Wheel of Time, and state the publishing company(TOR books, right?) and RJ and all of them do.

Will that work?

And like I said...I know I probably won't finish it.

But I write for the fun of writing. And writing 007!Rand is gunna be fun.

Speaking of which...I have come up with quite possibly the most win ever contained in one WoT fic idea.

Warhammer40K!Wheel of Time.

"The Dark One will fall...by my hands he shall be broken. The Dragon Reborn protects."



I believe it has been established that the cease and desist notice for that fic was bogus. Either the author made it up as an excuse to abandon the story, or some random douche sent it. There is no reason that only one single story on the net would get one, while the bigger fanfiction sites were still allowed to keep up sections dedicated to WoT fanworks. Like ff.net.


Well-Known Member
Halcyon7 said:
No, no it's WoT, not woot. If you're going to write for the fandom you should at least know that much. :p

@ttestagr: You are right in your belief.


Well-Known Member
@ttestagr : Hm, hm, very likely. I personally can't see an anime mixing with a book very well that often without some SERIOUS motivation and talent. And I read a few chapters of Pegasus Cycle.

It really annoyed me, one because I never read Ranma and skipped through the prologue, and two because even though the author tried to give him a japanese accent on his english, it sounded like a stereotyped chinese one. Left me vaguely outraged, even.

@Garahs : Maybe you're right. I'm not going to pick through 11000+ pages to check for a minute slip that might not even be there.
Point is, we know Egwene's a channeler, and we know the channeler sickness (this is it's official name now) can happen to any girl who can't learn how to access saidar accidentally at least.
So you agree that it's possible. That's the important part.

@Vesvius : Shame is, I don't know diddly about Warhammer40K, I only read the fic, Shinji and Warhammer40K (I didn't read Evangelion either :p), and found it epicly epic.
Methinks someone with Warhammer40K knowledge should write this, no?

I killed Egwene because I needed a metaphorical Vesper to Rand's Bond. I also needed something to motivate his lazy arse out of Two Rivers.

I'm trying to blend a little of Daniel Craig Bond with some of the Bond novels to create the Bond!Rand I really want. At the same time, I don't want to just choke the fic with movie quotes, because then I'll just be inserting Bond into Rand's skin.

Bond is a dark character because of what he's experienced. A lost women is a good start to corrupting Rand into the cheeky, angry, dangerous and damaged man that he needs to be in order to be James Bond!Rand.

On that note; I've decided to do a timeskip to four years in the future. I want to reveal his past, what happens in the skip, bit by bit, so the exciting part isn't just worn out for me at once.


@Praeceps : Praeceps, you fool! :angry: 'Gai-sensei punch' Of course I know the power of the WoT! :hail:

On that note, how many here have read the online comic, WoT Now?, on shadowburn dot com. It shut down when Jordan died :blue: , but is still the funniest sprite comic I've found.


Well-Known Member
That comic shut down before. (At least stopped for a time before. )


Well-Known Member

Chapter 1 û Succession
ôàAnd the Rand AlÆThor was the greatest human of all those I encountered. Not because he never lost. But because he did not know how to quit. He could not be stopped. He knew not hesitationàö
-excerpt from The Bibliography of the Reclaimer, written by an Ogier who preferred his name left out of it, lest his mother find out and drag him back to the stedding, in the Year of Reprieve, 969, of the New Era, the Third Age.

Four years laterà
In Andor, the capital city of Caemlyn was often equated with heaven. With itÆs white walls, proud ramparts and the white-and-red banner of the Lion hanging at each gate, it was hard not to be impressed.

Aside from its appearance, Caemlyn was also an enormous hub of trade. ôAll roads lead to Caemlyn.ö Was never truer in a case as much as Andor. Four large gates on the north, west, east, and south let traders and travelers in on all sides.

For Quinley Dwarin, supposed pilgrim and secret spy to the Children of Light, it was a sight he had seen many, many times before. He eyed the lax QueenÆs Guard at the gates, doing little more than keeping the peace, with distaste.

This placeàit is corrupted by the Dark. He narrowed his eyes at them, watching them wave through another farmer and his pack of mules.

One of the GuardÆs looked over, and Quinley quickly averted his eyes. He felt indignation burn, but he quickly cooled it with a thought. The Children of Light will own this place, soon. They will root out the Dark. He thought, comforting himself. He tugged his long cloak, similar to many of those around him, tighter.

The streets were even more crowded than usual, due to the arrival of the False Dragon, Logain. It had taken years to catch, too many years. Once, the Aei Sedai had even had him in their grasp, and then lost him again.

Blasted witches, canÆt do anything rightàThe Light damn them to the Pit of Doom!

Unsurprisingly, the Aei Sedai were rather tight-lipped as to how it happened.

Some had even began to believe he was the True Dragon Reborn. Quinley felt a grimace curl his lips. The mere thought was blasphemy, and made his stomach turn.

But no, now he was caught, gentled, and to sit before the Queen. Queen, ha! More like a puppet, dancing on Aei Sedai strings. She even wears that blasted Great Serpent ring, while holding audience!

The False DragonÆs caravan would be coming through the gates soon. Quinley stepped up his pace, not wanting to get caught in the crowds.

He made it to the QueenÆs Blessing, an inn with a reputation for supporting the Queen, with little problem. The owner, Basel Gill, waved at him merrily as he made his way up to his room.

He tugged at the piece of red cloth tied to his forearm, supposedly proclaiming his support for the Queen, with disdain. Normally, he wouldnÆt have sunk to such levels, butà

His contacts, recently, had been disappearing, dropping like flies. He found them dead in their rooms, their beds, their washing tubs, for the LightÆs sake! He had gotten increasingly paranoid when just this last month, two of his fellow spies and a smattering of their contacts had suddenly gone missing. He didnÆt know if they were dead or simply in hiding, as he was, but he had a sinking feeling it was the former.

That was why he was hiding out in a Queen supporterÆs inn, wearing the mark of the Queen on his arm.

But recently, there had been a tremendous success. He had actually converted one of the QueenÆs personal guards! Quinley could hardly contain his glee. Now, they had a chance to strike at the puppet, the Queen, and the QueenÆs æadvisorÆ, Elaida Sedai, and remove her, once and for all. It would all happen as the False Dragon neared the Queen.

He threw his cloak over the stand and his coat over his chair as he collapsed into the hard wood. He took out a piece of parchment, and began writing, a feeling of excitement bubbling in his chest. He had to report this to his superior.

It took him half an hour, to write the letter. He heard the jeering and booing as Logain entered the city begin halfway through the message.

Finally, he signed it with a flourish. He was shaky with anticipation. Who knew how he might be rewarded? Maybe a position in the Fortress of Light itself?

ôYou made several mistakes.ö A calm, cold voice suddenly barked.

Quinley felt his heart leap into his throat, and he nearly knocked over his ink as he whirled around.

There was a man, his face obscured mostly by shadow, sitting in the corner of the room on a simple stool. The only thing visible was one cold blue eye.

Or was it grey? The shouts of the crowd grew louder. QuinleyÆs hand crept towards his knife, a long slender blade designed to get in between slats of armor, and nothing else. How the hell hadnÆt he noticed the man? The shadows clung to him like things alive.

ôWho are you?ö He demanded, his voice shaky.

The man remained silent. Finally, he pointed at the window, open to the main street, where Logain was passing by. His arm was garbed in a grey coat sleeve, of simple woolen cut, and the palm and back of the manÆs hand was covered by tied rags, leaving the fingers bare, in a manner similar to that used by beggars to shield their hands from the cold.

ôFirst mistake; you left the window open. Any idiot could just climb in from the roof.ö His finger moved to point at his desk. ôSecond mistake; you left your QuestionerÆs cloak in your desk. Your bloody desk.ö The figure sounded almost amused. ôThere was only a single lock. Did you want to get caught? Or are you just that simple?ö

ôWho are you!?ö Quinley demanded once more. But the man was laughing.

ôYour finalàha! Your last mistake, was taking this room. Quinley, I tracked you across half of bloody Caemlyn. I rooted out each contact you had and made them sing like finches before they died. And where do I find you?ö The man broke off, clutching his stomach. ôIn the bloody room across from mine!ö He roared, slapping his knee.

Quinley didnÆt need anything else. ôGuards!ö He shouted, yanking his knife from itÆs sheath.

The man moved fluidly, like a panther, crossing the room in a second. In a flash of steel, a heron-marked sword buried itself in the spyÆs ribs. ôLong live the Queen.ö The man growled. The Questioner found himself staring into merciless blue eyes. ôUnlike yourself.ö

Quinley gave a gasping whine, before he was pushed off and hit the floor with a thump. Blue. So blue. Cold. Or were they grey? Blue and grey eyes. Dead eyes. Were his last thoughts, before he succumbed to DeathÆs embrace.

Rand didnÆt spare the man another thought; his attention was on the letter. He skimmed the contents, before his eyes narrowed. ôSheep spit. Sheep spit and buttered onions.ö He cursed, giving the QuestionerÆs corpse another kick for good measure.

Footsteps thumped up the stairs, and the door admitted Basel Gill. He took in the scene with a gape. ôRand, whatà?ö He asked dumbly, staring at one of his favorite customers in shock.

ôWhitecloak spy.ö Rand replied curtly, breaking the window with the butt of his sword. It shattered with a screech of glass. ôSorry, IÆll pay for that. Clean this mess, will you?ö He asked, as if he were talking about a paint spill instead of a body.

ôBut-but-ô The innkeeper sputtered. Rand kicked the last glass out, sheathed his sword and began climbing out the window. ôWhere are you going!?ö

Rand paused, and lowered his head into the windowÆs opening briefly. He grinned. It did not reach his eyes. ôGot to save the Queen, donÆt I?ö He remarked, before hoisting himself onto the roof.

He set off across the rooftops towards the Royal Palace at a dead run.


Elayne Trakand, Daughter-Heir to the Queen of Andor, Morgase Trankand, was not having a good day. Hence, she had fled to the gardens, where she usually did, to hide from public occasions.

Why, oh why, must I be there when Logain enters the chamber? Unless I am the one who must hand him the sentence, I donÆt really see the need for it! Elayne had her arms crossed and she was pacing back and forth. Her new slippers were soaked with dew. I am not scared the man. I am not. I...just don't see the need!

Plus, Mother had been forcing her to all these balls and other formal events. They all seemed to have an abundance of single young men of noble birth. Elayne knew what that meant. She means for me to pick a husband!

She didnÆt want to marry any of them. They were all the same, announcing their birth and how far they could trace back their lineage, as if it were the most important thing in the world. Elayne wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Mother had been pressing rather hard, too. She wanted Elayne to get married quickly, so Elaida couldnÆt force her to the Tower. She had already delayed four years, straining tradition rather alarmingly. But then, Mother had been rather vexed when Logain escaped, right under all their ageless noses, too!

Gawyn and Galad had went. They claimed duty as an excuse, but Elayne knew they had been jumping to learn the WarderÆs sword forms for years. So if she went to the Tower now, she would go alone.

But Elaida was adamant, and Elayne could see her Mother wearing down from the sheer tenacity. Apparently, she was the most powerful channeler they had seen in a hundred years, and they had been all but salivating to get her into a novice dress.

IÆm going to be sent to the Tower any day now, I just know it. ItÆs that, or an arranged marriage. She thought miserably. I just wish a solution to my problems would justàoh, drat, I donÆt know, drop out of the bloody sky!

And with a grunt, Rand AlÆThor hoisted himself over the Garden Wall and hit the soft grass with a thud.


A face adorned by strawberry golden curly hair stared at him in wordless shock. Rand nodded to the Daughter-Heir.

ôSorry, didnÆt mean to get the drop on you.ö He quipped, before setting off at a dead run into the Palace.

He even got about twenty feet before she started to scream for the Guard. He quickened his step as he shot through the labyrinth of passage ways.

He heard the tramp of boots, and ducked to a corner. Three mens wearing the red and white tabard of the QueenÆs Guard came around the corner in a line, spears at the ready. They didnÆt have a chance as he set upon them.

He grabbed the nearest spear and wrenched it away, hitting the man holding it with an elbow to the jaw in the process. He went down with a thump and clatter of armor.

He took liberated spear and jammed the end of it into the second GuardÆs stomach, where the armor fell short. He doubled over with a wheeze, leaving his chin open to the spear butt that whipped upwards and sent him backwards onto the ground with a grunt.

The last Guard had his spear at the ready, the element of surprise now having faded, circling warily.

ôAny chance youÆll just leave?ö Rand asked innocently.

ôForward the White Lion!ö He roared, before stabbing his spear forward.

Rand twisted out of the way, and brought his spear down and around in a sweep. It caught the third defender in the ankles, sending him to his chest on the floor.

He struggled to hands and knees and was met by RandÆs boot to the side of his face. The Guard collapsed into a boneless heap.

ôBad kitty.ö Rand drawled, dropping the spear and continuing his trek towards the Throne Room.


In the Throne Room, the Queen, her Captain-General and her Aei Sedai advisor, Elaida, waited, along with a good deal of Guards. Most were relaxed and content. After all, the False Dragon had been captured, and would shortly be carted off to the White Tower, never to be seen again.

Some were not. Elaida, standing to the left of the Queen, was not. But then, Aei Sedai could hardly ever be described as relaxed or content. Serene, they were. But never relaxed, and seldom content. Those knowledgeable enough in the matters of Aei Sedai inferred that her stiffness was due to her Ajah. The Red AjahÆs purpose was seeking out men who could channel. Perhaps Elaida Sedai was feeling anticipation with a False Dragon so near.

The Queen of Andor, Morgase Trakand, was not. She was coldly regal, sitting in the Lion Throne, designed to he slim so only a woman could sit in it, the picture of royalty and startling beauty, as lovely as a rose in full bloom with thorns to match. The Crown of Andor adorned her red-gold hair as if forged for her head alone. The two QueenÆs Guard that stood at her each side seemed to almost fade into the background.

Gareth Bryne, Captain-General was content, but not relaxed. It was his job to be stiff. AndorÆs protection required nothing less than constant vigilance, and he gave his job nothing less, one of the reasons why he was hailed as one of the great captains of this Age.

But he was content. A False Dragon cornered and captured by his forces, the Aei Sedai only allowed close enough to gentle him before they had made their victory march towards Andor. And their victory march it was. Not the Aei SedaiÆs victory, but theirs.

Why, he would even say he was proud. Happy, even.

Which was why he had to resist the urge to expel a rather vulgar oath when another Guard sidled up to his side and whispered in his ear.

ôMy Lord Bryne, an intruder has entered the Palace.ö The Captain-General stiffened, and his gauntleted fist clenched.

ôBring him to me for interrogation, later.ö He stressed that. Morgase would have his ears for a necklace if he ruined this glorious occasion.

The Guard seemed rather cowed. ôEràheàhasnÆt been caught yet, milord.ö

Gareth turned, narrowing his eyes. ôWhat do you mean?ö He hissed. The unfortunate man seemingly shrank on the spot.

ôWellàeràh-heÆs incapacitated every Guard that tried to stop him. With his bare hands, sir. And heÆs rather, umàagile, too. Quick as a damned rabbit, as it were. HeÆs wearinÆ a grey cloak and heÆs got reddish hair, like an Aiel. Do you think he might be an Aiel?ö

BryneÆs eyes widened, and he palmed his face, suppressing a groan with some effort. ôNo, not an Aiel, not this far from the Spine.ö He muttered. He turned back to the Guard, well aware of several curious eyes upon him.

ôVery well. Tell every Guard to tell him, if they can get into earshot that is, that he is to meet with me in private.ö The Guard looked at him askance. It was a strange request. The Captain-General continued regardless. ôBut most importantly, get the message to him that he must not-!ö

A side door to the Throne Room crashed open as two Guards were thrown to the ground, and a grey blur darted in. There were several screams as the blurÆs hand whipped forward and the Guard to the QueenÆs right fell backwards, blood spraying as he clawed at the knife embedded in his throat.

Bryne sighed, wiping a few droplets off. The Guard he had been talking to stared at him in shock. ôBloody fool.ö The Captain-General muttered.

Rand raised his hands in the air in a nonthreatening manner, a cocky smirk on his face. ôI give up-oof!ö He grunted, as an invisible hand slammed him against the wall, pressing him flat.

Gareth glanced left. Elaida was staring at him with steely eyes.

Morgase regained her composure and rose from her throne. She pointed imperiously at the Guards that had now surrounded Rand. ôDisarm him and bring him before me.ö She ordered coldly.

Several of the Guard swarmed forward, taking his sword from him. Then, they frisked him and began the process of pulling off his concealed weapons.

It was a surprisingly long process. The Guards even began to grow slightly weary as the knives seemed to be hidden under every flap of clothing Rand was wearing.

Then, it grew ridiculous, as one guard felt behind RandÆs back, and pulled out several long tubes, with fuses. ôFireworks?ö He muttered aloud, in disbelief.

Rand shrugged, as best he could suspended half a foot in the air by the One Power. ôI heard there was going to be free wine. I thought it only best I contributed to the party.ö He joked.

The Guard responded by punching Rand in the stomach. Rand grunted slightly and raised an eyebrow.

ôOw.ö Rand responded flatly, as if it were a statement of fact.

The Guard nodded to the others. Rand suddenly was let free of his bonds, and landed on the stone floor. His freedom was momentary as two Guards instantly grabbed his arms in rough grips and walked him before the Queen.

Rand noticed one had a purplish bruise along his jaw. He surmised it was the Guard he had knocked out with his elbow. ôHow was your nap?ö He asked cheerfully, before grimacing as the Guard gave his arm an extra twist.
The other Guard kicked him in the back of the knee, forcing him to stare up at the Queen. She did not look happy.

ôThis man has made an attempt on my life, and shall be executed.ö Her voice rang against the walls like a clear bell. Morgase turned her gaze towards Rand. ôDo you have any last words?ö

ôYes, I do. Whitecloak assassin. Coincidentally, those words happen to fit that fellow there-ô Rand nodded towards the dead Guard. ô-perfectly, since theyÆre his job description. In fact, theyÆre even the reason why I killed him, why IÆm here, and when I killed him. So I choose the words, æWhitecloak assassinÆ as my final words, because they fit so well into so many situations, wouldnÆt you say?ö

Morgase stared at him, her cold gaze unchanging at his ribbing. ôWould you happen to have any proof of this?ö

ôCertainly.ö Rand replied amiably, a strained smile on his face. ôIf one of your delightfully inept Guards would just reach into my pocket, they would find a letter from a certain Quinley Dwarin, Whitecloak Questioner, who resides at the QueenÆs Blessing, to Rhadam Asunawa, High Inquisitor of the Children of Light, boasting of his ability to turn one of your Guards against you.ö

One of the Guards caught her eye, and quickly reached down and retrieved the parchment, and handed it to her. ôMy Queen.ö He murmured.

She took it. Morgase glanced down at Rand. ôThis has blood on it.ö She said, a statement of fact.

ôA thousand pardons, my Queen.ö Rand smirked. ôQuinley Dwarin used to reside at the QueenÆs Blessing. Now, I believe, his soul rests in the Pit of Doom.ö He finished chipperly.

ôBy your blade?ö

ôIndeed it was, my Queen.ö Rand smiled.

She took a moment to scan the letter. Rand watched as her gaze lingered near the bottom of the parchment, on the red stamp, a shepardÆs staff surrounded by a sunburst, that marked the document as official.

She handed the document to the Guard on her left. Gareth Bryne sent Rand a look that should have burned him to a crisp on the spot, before leaning over to whisper in her ear. Her eyes widened fractionally, before she caught herself. Her hands twitched, as if they wished to smooth an invisible skirt.

ôIt seemsàö The Queen wet her lips quickly. ôIt seems I was gravely mistaken. This man is a man loyal to Andor. Release him.ö She ordered. She fixed Rand with a meaningful glance. ôIt seems there is an empty place at my side.ö She indicated the spot the traitor Guard had previously occupied.

The Guards backed off. Rand stood up, massaging his arms. ôIt would be my honor and duty to fill such a vacancy.ö He drawled, before taking the spot at MorgaseÆs right side.

Gareth Bryne leaned in quickly, well aware of the many eyes upon them. ôWe will have words, later, boy. You were supposed to be discreet!ö He hissed between clenched teeth.

ôYouÆre just jealous because I looked more heroic than you did.ö Rand whispered back cheekily, and watched as the Captain-General went nearly apoplectic forcing himself not to yell.

At least, not yet.


ôThe Light damn you, AlÆThor!ö Gareth roared. ôRight there? In front of nearly the entire damned QueenÆs Guard? Do you know how many of them are going to be running with tales

Rand shrugged, toying with one of the iron paperweights on the Captain-GeneralÆs desk. ôIf you want, IÆll go kill them too.ö He replied nonchalantly. ôBesides, the assassinÆs dead, the spies are dead, and thereÆs a whole desk full of evidence back at the QueenÆs Blessing, enough to get the Whitecloaks out of Andor for good. IsnÆt that what you wanted?ö

Bryne groaned, and paced a couple of steps, breathing deeply. He pointed one finger at Rand. ôWhat if youÆd missed! You could have bloody killed her!ö He snarled.

RandÆs eyes went a tad cold. ôI donÆt miss.ö

ôWhat if you had!?ö

ôI donÆt.ö The words dropped from his lips like icicles.

The door to BryneÆs study opened, and the Queen of Andor entered quickly. Her face was slightly flushed. She glanced at Rand one second, before tuning him out completely. She locked gazes with Gareth.

ôDid he have to do that in front of my entire Guard?ö She demanded. ôGareth, why has Elaida has been interrogating me for the last half hour about a man I had no idea I employed? Do you have any idea how many of those men will run home carrying stories?ö She looked ready to box his ears, Queen or no.

ôYes.ö Bryne growled. ôSomething I was just lecturing my man here on.ö Two pairs of eyes turned to him.

Rand raised his hands in a gesture of peace. ôI was just doing what my Lord Bryne ordered.ö He replied, doing his best impression of a scared servant. He even added a slight quaver to his voice.

The Queen was not fooled. ôDonÆt give me that, boy. My Captain-General would not tell youàone of his eyes-and-ears, I assume-ô

ôWell, I prefer the term, æprivate consultantÆ.ö Rand murmured, dropping the act. Morgase ignored this.

ô-to spill a manÆs blood onto the Lion Throne. With me in it!ö She fixed Rand with a cold glare.

ôYouÆre absolutely right, my Queen.ö Rand replied demurely. ôHe did, however, order me to bring Whitecloak spies to justice and relay any relevant information to him, about a month ago. Which I did with extreme diligence.ö

ôThat killing spree was your doing!?ö Gareth roared.

Morgase rounded on her Captain-General. ôYou ordered him to kill those men? They were citizens of Caemlyn! What right do you have, Gareth Bryne, to slaughter them like cattle?ö She demanded indignantly.

Huh. So this is what happens behind closed doors in Noble Houses. I guess Andoran bluebloods really are more straightforward. Rand mused.

ôI meant for him to arrest and interrogate them, not murder them.ö Bryne muttered.

ôI did interrogate them.ö Rand offered. ôI have quite the store of evidence back in my room at the QueenÆs Blessing. Letters, money moved, lots of official documents bearing the High InquisitorÆs seal. Asunawa was hatching multiple plots against you, my Queen. This one was the only one I didnÆt manage to catch. Until this late, that is.ö

Bryne looked surprised, but the Queen kept a neutral face. ôWas he, now?ö She said softly, like steel covered by silk. The sudden change from raging to quietly dangerous was rather disconcerting.

ôHe was indeed, my Queen.ö Rand affirmed. ôAnd I have the evidence.ö

For a moment, Gareth watched the Queen warily, as if she were a firework opened, about to explode or simply lay dormant.

ôThen I suppose not all is lost.ö She replied. She turned towards her Captain-General. ôGather the Guard. Send letters to our outposts. Prepare to push the Children of Light out by force if they refuse to leave quietly.ö

Gareth glanced at Rand, before thumping a hand to his breast. ôYes, my Queen.ö He replied, a thick rumble, before leaving the room.

The Queen turned on him, staring at him down her nose, despite the fact she was a good deal shorter. It was a trick that Rand had encountered many times.

ôWhat is your name, boy?ö She asked in a mild tone of voice.

ôRand AlÆThor, my Queen.ö Rand supplied instantly, just as mild.

ôYou have done a good thing, regardless of the methods you used to achieve it.ö Her nose wrinkled slightly. ôBring me this evidence from your rooms, and then we may then talk about your compensation. I have a proposal I would like to discuss with you. You may pick up your effects from the Guard on the way.ö

ôYour wish is my desire, my Queen.ö Rand replied, grinning, before leaving the office at an unhurried pace.


Morgase watched the boy go, her gaze boring a hole in his back as he closed the door.

Then, she allowed herself a moment of laxness, her lips tightening and her eyes narrowing, as she chewed lightly on the end of one finely laquered nail.

This afternoon had been quite stressful. Dealing with Logain, and Elaida, then having that previously unknown assassin of GarethÆs - Rand AlÆThor û kill a man right in front of her eyes. Burn me, not even in front of my eyes! ThereÆs still his blood on my dress! Morgase smoothed her skirts.

Worse still, she could have sworn that man was loyal. Was she losing her touch? Or was he simply better at hiding than she was at noticing? Morgase made a mental tally of his friends û she prided herself on knowing the names of all her guards û and made a mental note to order a search of his quarters later, to see if there was any more evidence the AlÆThor boy might have missed.

That brought her back to the issue of him. Rand AlÆThor. He was quite the problem. If one man could go through her entire Royal Palace without being caught or stopped, could others? Granted, the Palace had been sporting a skeleton crew, most of the Guard being out in the parade, regulating the crowd and guarding Logain, but still.

And more so, could he be trusted? Probably. Gareth had trusted him. But Gareth had seemed as surprised as she was. And Gareth was as good as an eye of character as she had ever seen.

The boy was obviously dangerous. And cunning, to have tracked down that Whitecloak spy û Quinley û and all those separate plots, if he was to be believed. Morgase knew that Amacidia had fallen in a similar manner to that that would have occurred had the Whitecloaks succeeded in getting rid of her.

Rand AlÆThor was a vexing boy. That last remark of his had been borderline flirtatious. And towards a Queen, no less! Morgase shook her head. He was a pretty boy, she supposed, but much too young and reckless for her tastes. A cheeky boy.

But useful, perhaps. There are several problems I have been puzzling over for a while. And I do have a shortage of competent spies at the moment. She mused.

But a test was needed, perhaps. There was a possibility that he simply had gotten lucky and stumbled upon a Whitecloak nest. And it didnÆt take a genius to kill and loot a body.

She sighed, took a deep breath, and composed herself. This could be ruminated over later. Right now, she had a victory speech to give to the people of Andor û a very nice one, that she had thought up personally û and then, a formal ball to attend, so every puffed-up merchant with a scrap of land to his name could call themselves a nobleman for one night and congratulate the Queen on their victory on behalf of Andor.

She allowed herself a smile. A day of victory, it is today. I finally have a good excuse to kick those damned Children out of Andor!

A day of victory indeed.


Rand picked at the collar of his grey coat idly. It was a good coat, warm, unassuming. It wouldnÆt draw eyes in a crowd, either. And at night, when he had his cloak on and cowl up, it was nigh impossible to see him.

He looked around the room, at the fine furniture and tables. There were a few portraits of royal scenes, such as a crowning, and a contingent of the QueenÆs Guard riding into battle.

His gaze lingered on the silver candle sticks, gilded with gold on the edges. His fingers twitched slightly.

ôI did not take you for a common thief, boy.ö Rand, to his credit, didnÆt flinch in the slightest at the sound of the QueenÆs severe, if dry, voice. She was wearing a different dress, an emerald green with vine patterns and a great deal of lace.

ôStealing? From your Palace, my Queen? The very thought makes me ill.ö He assured her. Morgase stared hard at him, as if she could somehow flay the sarcasm, well-concealed as it was, right out of him.

ôYes, IÆm sure.ö She muttered finally, taking a seat across from him. Rand raised a single eyebrow, before letting it be. It seemed she did not trust him quite yet.

ôIÆve come here to discuss your payment. Gareth promised you fifty Andoran crowns if you could root out all the Whitecloak spies in Caemlyn before the False Dragon arrived before him. It will be waiting for you when you leave.ö Rand simply dipped his head, as if he had expected nothing else. ôNow that that is out of the way, there is something else I would like to discuss with you.ö She was cut off, by a short laugh from Rand.

ôMy Queen, I would be happy to pay for a new dress. You see, I was trying to angle the spray more to the right, you see, trying to aim it more at Bryneàö Rand quipped, a small smile adorning his face.

MorgaseÆs lips tightened. ôMy dress is not the issue, but rather, I have a proposal for you.ö Her hands lay flat on her skirt. ôI would like to know if you are interested in a more official position at my side, providing the same services you did this last month.ö

Rand took a brief moment to decipher the sentence, before leaning in slightly. ôYou want me as your personal assassin.ö He offered. ôYour royal assassin.ö

ôNot so much assassin, as private ambassador.ö The Queen corrected quietly, toying with one of her rings. ôThere areàplaces that I cannot be, situations that I cannot personally resolveàthingsàthat need to be done on behalf of Andor that I cannot be seen doing. You would be the person that performed those duties.ö

ôSo, you want me to be half-Aei Sedai, half-hiresword?ö He amended. ôThe one who keeps the royal hands clean.ö

Morgase ignored the rude analogies and continued on. ôYou would report directly to me or Gareth. As a salary, you would be paid this same one hundred silver marks upon completion of eachàduty, and twenty marks each month regardless. You would have your own private quarters here, and take your meals here in the Palace. Naturally, you would be expected to stay within the confines of Andor while not on duty or on leave. There is one condition, however.ö

ôA test, I assume.ö Rand finished. The Queen nodded, and withdrew a small bell from her sleeve, and rang it once. Rand mulled the offer over thoughtfully. That kind of money could let him live rather comfortably.

A servant sidled in. ôA map, if you please.ö Morgase requested. The servant bowed out and left to fetch it. The Queen crossed her legs and leaned back onto the cushion. ôI want you to steal something for me. From a manor.ö

ôSounds like a deal. Consider it done.ö Rand decided then and there, as if he had never denied thoughts of theft in the first place. ôMay I pick the rugs for my quarters? IÆve always been fond of Mayener work, really.ö

ôHave you ever heard the expression, AlÆThor, to never count your chickens before they hatch?ö The Queen murmured, smirking. The servant rushed back in, with a map. Morgase unrolled it as the servant took his leave. She stabbed one point on the map. ôHere.ö

Rand peered at the map. ôCairhien. A bit harder. Cairhienian nobles are always the most paranoid.ö He leaned back. ôBut doable.ö He finished with a lazy grin.

ôIÆm not asking you to get into any manor, AlÆThor. IÆm asking you to get in the manor of Lord Barthanes Damodred.ö

Instead of outrage, Rand shifted and rubbed his palms together with an appreciative smirk. ôOh, nasty, my Queen. You want me to break into the most well guarded manor in Cairhien, owned by the one of the richest and most influential men in the country. Now, I assume youÆre going to follow it up with a request for one of his most coveted items. Come on, then. LetÆs hear it.ö He seemed almost eager.

ôYou show remarkable insight, boy. I want you to bring me the scepter of King Laman.ö

Rand rocked back on his heels, laughing uproariously. Morgase spared him a cool gaze, before crossing her arms under her bosom and waiting.

He finally got his chuckles under control. ôNow that is positively vicious, my Queen.ö

ôYouÆve heard of it then, I assume?ö The Queen drawled.

ôNot really, no.ö Rand admitted with a grin. ôBut since you asked for it, I assume itÆs some sort of family heirloom, highly prized and coveted. Barthanes's crown jewel, as it were?ö

ôJust about. There is a rumor about the scepter, that it, like LamanÆs throne, was fashioned from the wood of Avendoraladera, the offshoot of Avendesora, the famed Tree of Life, that the Aiel offered the Cairhienians.ö Morgase twined her fingers together. ôFrom the way the Lord Damodred guards it, IÆd say it was very likely.ö

ôWhy do you want it?ö Rand asked curiously, picking at one of the tassels on the cushions of the couch.

ôIt doesnÆt matter.ö She said dismissively. ôWhat is important is that you remember that this is not a challenge. This is not some foolish dare. This is a test. I need to know what you can do.ö

ôDoesnÆt my previous performance cover that? If not, you can ask Bryne. IÆm sure heÆs got a few tales heÆd love to regale you with to discourage you.ö

ôIÆve heard them already. He seemed quite vehement in his dislike, if respect, for you.ö The QueenÆs tone was dry. ôFrom what I understand, you turned up on his estate, and caused a public disturbance at a local tavern and wouldnÆt pay for your drinks. You then proceeded to break out of his jail, beat up a dozen of his guards, drunk, and then snuck into his manor and private office and drink all of his finest brandy in one night. He was the one that found you, asleep in his armchair.ö

Rand was smiled amiably, but said nothing.

ôThen, you paid all of his fines right out of pocket, and offered to take care of the Whitecloaks for him. Apparently, you had also broken into his locked desk and read his files while drinking, and could remember it all with enough clarity to recite it line for line.ö MorgaseÆs lips quirked up in a slight smile. ôIn court. While hung over. Naturally, he was impressed.ö

ôI know. It was very good brandy. I bet he couldnÆt drink it in one night.ö Rand replied cheekily.

"He also told a bit of your history, from what you told him. He said you started out in a small, scouting unit, in the Saldaean Army, correct?"

ôThe Windrunners. Scouting and message carrying.ö Rand had relaxed, was even smiling a bit. ôOne of Lord BashereÆs experiments. Wanted to see if he could train men to run as fast as Aiel.ö Rand let out a brief sigh. ôWe might have gotten close.ö

ôApparently you moved then. Got integrated with one of the larger regiments, gained a position as a minor officer."

RandÆs smile slipped, and his gaze grew distant. ôSaldaea.ö He said quietly. Quiet, like the grave was quiet. One of his hands rose unconsciously, to rub at something beneath his shirt. ôThirteenth Regiment.ö His voice was cold and flat.

ôYou bear a heron-marked blade, you led men into the Blight-ö RandÆs fist clenched, suddenly. ôYou obviously have some skill with knives-ö

ôPicked that up from a gleeman in Arad Doman.ö Rand interjected, in an offhand tone. ôAlso learned how to cheat at cards, and play a mean harp. Anything else?ö

ôNo.ö Morgase sighed and folded her hands. ôWhat IÆm trying to say, is that I know you can fight. I know you can kill. But any fool can kill.ö She fixed Rand with a cold, flat stare that suddenly made him feel smaller than he actually was. ôGareth thinks youÆre motivated by blood-lust, or young recklessness, or that perhaps you lost a bit of yourself, off in the Blight. I need to know I can trust you. I need to see that you can be discreet. I need you to show that you can put someone elseÆs interests before your own.ö

ôYour interests?ö Rand shot back.

ôMind your tongue.ö The Queen snapped. ôAnd yes, my interests. This is a test, Rand AlÆThor. You must not implicate me or Andor in any way in this theft. You also have to leave Lord Damodred alive and well. How well you pull this off determines whether I can take you on as my royal assassin, as you put it. If you fail, you will still be afforded a minor position in the QueenÆs Guard, which you will take.ö

ôReally? Because I was thinking about visiting Tear, the Stone is so nice this time of year. Why shouldnÆt I simply toddle on there?ö Rand asked idly.

ôBecause then, I will be forced to convict you for the murder of twenty three citizens of Andor.ö She replied coldly.

RandÆs eyes narrowed and he sat up. ôBlackmail?ö He growled. ôI saved your bloody life.ö

ôIncentive. And you already have your payment for that. Fifty golden crowns.ö She replied primly. ôYou have three months. It will take you around a month to get there, which should leave you a month to steal the scepter, and a month to return. I would say youÆd best get packing.ö She stared at him gravely. ôDo not try to run, or I will have a thousand crown bounty put on your head in every country you can name.ö

RandÆs fist clenched and unclenched several times, as he sat there, eyeing the Queen with a hard intelligence. Then, the man rose so suddenly, that Morgase nearly called the Guard, until she saw his smile. It was not a pleasant one.

ôYou donÆt have to worry about me. IÆll have your stick for your hands in no time.ö

He paused, with his hand on the door. Then, he turned, and smirked slightly.

ôAnd it was twenty seven. Not twenty three.ö

Then he exited the room, leaving a scowling Queen.

ôàBloody AlÆThor.ö She muttered, smoothing her skirts irritably.


Was it believable? That's my only question. It felt a little not, when I wrote it.

Feedback welcome.


Well-Known Member
omg a WoT fic! Yay! I don't really care that you killed what's her name either, never really liked her. Or the healer. Then again, I hate most of the women in WoT. I swear, Robert Jordan is Japanese.

I am enjoying the ride thus far, although how much time has passed? Four years?


Well-Known Member
Rand as James Bond? Always thought that was more in Mat's alley, but why not? It's interesting so far and I'm curious bout how Rand ended up in this situation. Keep it up?
Now this is a interesting concept Rand as an assasin & spy for the queen.
Please Continue B)


Well-Known Member
:mellow: :huh: :eek: :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

WoT fiction! Oh how I have missed you so... Even the slightest hint of a well written fanfic feels like a crack addict getting one more hit while waiting for the next big score in the wake of a massive drug bust.

I give thee a cry for Mo4r.


Well-Known Member
Wow. This was a great read. I was wondering where you would go with such a premise, but clearly my imagination wasn't up to the job... The mix of humor, combat... bwahaha!

Write more! B)


Well-Known Member
*slaps fic with a baby seal*

It works, it's well written, but you fall a bit short of the sort of ... hmm ... brutal directness Craig gives his portrayal of Bond. You've made Rand just a touch too jovial, or so he appears so far.

Still, it's a good bit of writing, and you've obviously got something in mind for where this is going. Carry on, carry on.



Well-Known Member
Quinley's not much of a spy leaving evidence like that effectively in the open. The story is interesting, even if its not my favorite type of spy genre. As a question, given his insistence that he doesn't miss with knives does that mean he was using saidin to guide them?

And you, be nice to the seals.
Great story. Oddly enough Rand reminds me of the Tenth Doctor from Doctor Who. His speech to the Morgase explaining the identity of the assasin seems like something that would come out of the Doctor's mouth. Even his darker moments seem in tune with the few glimpses shown of the Doctor's dark side.