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English
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Part 7 of WoTtober 2025 (hiraeth_moon)
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Published:
2025-10-07
Words:
387
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1/1
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6
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11
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72

The rain belonged to her

Summary:

WoTtober 2025, prompt 7: Rain

The rain should have made him think of Nynaeve, and feel grateful that she was alive and well, but the muddy road made him half-expect to look up and see a small white horse beside Mandarb, legs speckled brown with mud.

Notes:

this has received minimal editing, so please forgive mistakes :)

Work Text:

The sudden appearance of rain clouds overhead told Lan that Nynaeve and Elayne had been successful with the Bowl of Winds. He observed people all around him falling to the ground in near-worship at the first few rumblings of thunder, then scurrying inside when the clouds began dumping water to make up for their months of absence. He tried to feel happy for their success, tried to feel anything for their victory, but he couldn’t summon the faintest glimmer of joy.

 

The rain should have made him think of Nynaeve, and he should be grateful she was alive and well, but the muddy mess of road that stretched in front of him, littered with rain-filled holes, made him half-expect to look up and see a small white horse beside Mandarb, legs speckled brown with mud. The figure on Aldieb’s back would be huddled in a blue cloak, rain making little rivers through the woolly fabric, grumbling about hot baths and tea. Lan found the ghost of a smile on his lips vaporizing into pain.

 

She was dead. Moiraine was gone. Only a lifetime of managing guilt and pain kept him upright in Mandarb’s saddle at the thought. He wanted to scream his throat raw, run straight into the Blight, throw his entire being at the Shadow, and make the Dark One pay for everything he had taken. 

 

But killing himself like that would hurt Nynaeve—she wouldn’t understand the relief it gave him, she would only feel the pain. And the Light blind him, but he couldn’t do to Nynaeve what was done to him. Allowing her to bond him had been the most selfish thing he had ever done. She deserved someone far better, someone who hadn’t already failed his first Aes Sedai, someone without all his baggage.

 

A boom of thunder echoed over the empty road, and he felt Mandarb’s hooves slip on mud before the warhorse regained his balance. If Lan pushed any further, he would risk Mandarb breaking a leg, which would hinder his ability to scout the landscape later. He growled in frustration, but turned back towards the campsite. Rain pelted him in the face without mercy, and he embraced the discomfort.

 

The rain—it was just one more thing that belonged to her, and he deserved every punishment for his failure.

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