thelonelylake | resolution road (wheel of time | alanna/moiraine, alanna~liandrin)

resolution road. wheel of time (tv), alanna/moiraine + alanna~liandrin. one night on the road back to tar valon between 1.05 and 1.06. 1.2k words, rated t. for tellitslant in rarefemslashex 2021.

Liandrin watches her across the fire every night, eyes limned red-gold by the flames, and every night Moiraine ducks her head, searching for something, anything in the embers that will give her answers to the questions that seeing Liandrin again always raises.

The fire tells her nothing, but Moiraine supposes that's what she gets for not even being able to put words to the questions.

"It wouldn't kill you to talk to her, you know," Alanna murmurs one night, comfortably curled into Moiraine's side. Her fingertips are drawing meaningless patterns on Moiraine's knee, and across the fire Liandrin blinks, her eyes staying shut just a fraction of a second too long.

Moiraine raises an eyebrow, resisting the urge to rest her cheek against the top of Alanna's head. "There's worse things."

Alanna laughs, and Liandrin abruptly stands, turning so quickly towards the Red tent that the hem of her cloak swings dangerously near the flames. Even Moiraine has to admit that she cuts a lonely figure at the edge of the light, and that the loneliness sits uncomfortably on her shoulders.

She's mourning Kerene too, Moiraine reminds herself.

Alanna squeezes her knee gently, perhaps sensing her shift in mood. "You don't have to stay," she says. "I think you've spent long enough by our fire to shock even the most skeptical of our sisters."

It's not quite an offer, not quite an invitation. Moiraine looks over to the Warders' fire, where Lan sits with a few of the other men keeping watch over Stepin. She can barely see his smile in the dark, but she can feel it in the bond, and when he inclines his head towards their tent gratitude swells within her. Safety may feel far even among her sisters, but Lan's unquestioning encouragement does make her feel somewhat better.

Moiraine stands, tugging Alanna with her. It isn't better, isn't like before, but the temptation to pretend, just for a little while —

She feels every minute of the past twenty years in that moment, only slightly eased by Alanna's presence at her side as they make their way back to the tent. Inside the shelter offered by the plain canvas, Moiraine lets herself sigh, lets her shoulders slump the slightest bit forwards. With Alanna at her side and the warm touch of power at her fingertips to bring the candles to life, the tent feels more like the home she calls it than it ever has.

There's no use dwelling on it.

Moiraine kicks off her boots and reaches for her nightshirt as the tent flap falls shut behind them. The road might be home, but the chance to sleep in something other than full traveling gear is a luxury she's loath to pass up. Alanna, too, sheds her boots before curling up on the sleeping mats, idly skimming her knife over an apple Moiraine hadn't noticed her take from the bowl by the fire.

She's not looking, as Moiraine slips her shirt over her head, but she's not not looking either, and though there's no real heat in her gaze it prickles over Moiraine's skin anyway, and she finds that she doesn't mind it. It's nice, really, to feel a little more grounded in her body.

Old times, she thinks, nudging Alanna to sit up so they can share space on the mat. Liandrin's changed, though she doesn't know if it's for the better or for the worse. Siuan is waiting for her, though Moiraine is returning to her with almost less than nothing. And Alanna is —

Alanna is holding another apple out to her, a smile dancing around her lips, and Moiraine can't help but laugh as well. "No, thanks," she says, and Alanna rolls her eyes and leans over to tuck it into Moiraine's pack.

"You'll thank me later."

"Not if you make me talk to Liandrin," Moiraine says, but she can tell the words have landed wrong immediately, as something behind Alanna's eyes pulls tight and hurt. "Oh, Alanna." She used to be better at this; once, her words only dealt wounds on purpose.

All she can offer Alanna now is silence.

"She is," Alanna starts. Pauses, tilts her head so the candlelight glances off the bells in her hair. "Sharing a weave with her is —"

Moiraine thinks she can read the silences easily enough, the endless deliberation over what words are not simply true but are truths that matter - but what Alanna finally says, so quiet Moiraine could pretend she didn't hear, is simply "I like her."

It's the sort of thing she shouldn't say, just a little too earnest and a little too dangerous, but that's always been Alanna, and despite the secrets between them in this moment it still stirs affection in Moiraine's heart. So all she says is, "I'm sorry," just as quiet and a little wry, and doesn't press for the girlish gossip that Alanna once would've given freely.

"Don't be," Alanna says, and the smile that's worked its way back to her lips is real. Almost real.

Moiraine would've known immediately, once.

Loss curls tight in her stomach then, so sharp and sudden that she feels Lan feel it, sees the flicker of concern over Alanna's face as she recognises the shift, if not its cause. And Moiraine can't bear it, suddenly, can't bear the weight of all the warnings she can't put into words, all the things she could've said if the Wheel had spun one thread above or below the one it landed on.

"Moiraine?" Alanna's shifted closer, fruit abandoned, and Moiraine realises a moment too late that her mouth is still slightly open. "You've been gone so long," Alanna says, and her hand is burning against Moiraine's knee through the too-thin cotton of her nightshirt. "Surely you've seen how the world has changed. We need each other now more than ever."

We can trust each other less than ever, Moiraine thinks, but Alanna isn't wrong, either. When the Amyrlin calls them to answer for what Liandrin - for what they all - did to Logain, they'll support her. Red and Blue and Green all woven into a knot Moiraine isn't sure they could unpick if any of them tried.

If any of them wanted to.

Alanna deserves more than that. "I do find comfort in not traveling alone."

"And I find comfort in knowing you're safe." There's something softer in Alanna's face now, under the slight furrow in her brow, the same sort of look from the fireside that might've been an invitation, might've been a question, and it's not a surprise when Alanna reaches up to kiss the very corner of Moiraine's mouth, more tentative than Moiraine's ever felt her. She does surprise herself, a little bit, turning her head just enough to kiss the worry from Alanna's lips.

Alanna's mouth falls open under hers, more surprise than desire, but when her tongue presses against Moiraine's lips it's warm and familiar and somehow exactly what Moiraine wants, for both of them.

"Old times," she says when she pulls back, already slightly breathless.

And Alanna, shifting forward to settle in her lap, doesn't ask her to make the words mean anything more than what they are.