Disclaimer: I don’t own the Wheel of Time.
Authors Note: Darker than usual. Slash and incest. Angst, bordering on a lemon.
Blood was trickling down my leg in soft rivulets. I touched it, fascinated, as it wet my fingers. Even after all these years, after the oaths, after placing the stole on my shoulders, I still bleed. Curious.
We Aes Sedai set ourselves apart from the others. Hold ourselves a notch higher, a tad better than the others. Yet this is the proof we are not. We still bleed, as the clerks do, as the Queens do, as the whores do.
Our undergarments still stain, as do our bedclothes.
Even I, the Amyrlin Seat, bleed. I think many would have it think that we are detached, feel no emotion, and are content to pull people on puppeteer’s strings. As if, we have no other joy in life.
The blood shows something else. We are still young. Odd that Aes Sedai are so afraid of old age. Old age lasts longer for us, there is no sweet release after the long years. We keep going.
An old and venerable maid. A curse. Respected in the Tower, yet still a curse in its own way.
Absently, I trailed one finger across my lips, tasting. Bitter, metallic yet tangy. Blood mixed with other intimate liquids, I suppose.
I once tasted Eirana like this. She took great delight in smearing it all over me, in rubbing herself up and down my thighs, across my stomach, across my arms and breasts and cheeks. I lay motionless under her while she done it.
She was aching for me to taste her. I didn’t, for a long time. I made her cry for want of it. I did, eventually, of course, when the sun was touching the sky and the blood was caking and drying on my skin. My tongue had barely flicked in when she cried out and came hard, gripping the bedclothes with bloodied fingernails.
I came a matter of seconds later, which surprised me. I found the blood and seeing her bleed...curious. I found it arousing and repulsive in equal amounts, making an odd tearing sensation inside me.
She loved seeing me bleed. She could watch it trickle down my legs for hours, licking it off. She would take me numerous times the nights when I bled; making me, sleep without the protective belt that saved bedclothes from stain, my crotch against her buttocks when we slept so the blood would trickle through her thighs in the night.
When that did happen, we both woke up instinctively. I could feel it oozing out of me and she could feel it tricking through her legs. Sometimes I took her from behind, so aroused was she that she came several times in the space of minutes.
She would turn then, mouth searching for more of the liquid she so adored.
“What are you doing?” She whispered softly from behind me.
Sucking on my finger, I replied, “Thinking,” I was sitting on the end of my bed, legs spread slightly.
She came around to face me, watching me. She studied me intently, sitting down on the floor, crossing her legs under her. Her eyes followed one droplet of blood. She bit down on her lip. “About what?”
“Oh,” She was still watching me. Slowly, very slowly, she began to inch forward, eventually pressing her nose into the inside of my thigh, sighing softly.
I watched her head between my legs, dark hair becoming even darker as it mingled with my blood and dampened.
She kissed the inside of my thigh, not quite biting it. I think the preoccupation with blood is a remnant of the old days. She could not bring herself to draw blood; this was the only blood she could – or would – ever taste.
She began to kiss her way up my thigh, whispering soft words that I barely listened to. “Light, Elaida, light...”
Watching her, I was reminded of my sister.
Nerena is like Eirana. Seductive, rebellious.
My sister was...strange. Even stranger than me. She drove my brother from home with scandals that helped my mother die. My father took her side. He always would. Probably because she was doing with my father what she was doing with my brother.
My eldest sister tried to protect me. I was the youngest and largely unaware of what was going on. While I was playing with my dolls, my brother and sister where taking each other in the next room.
When my brother left, Nerena turned her attention to me. I was thirteen when she kissed me. Fourteen when she made love to me.
I did not resist. I had grown up with spotting my brother and sister pressed up against walls and in the stables. This was normal and Nerena was beautiful.
My mother, ill and suffering after my brother’s scandals, was, if possible, even more disgusted. My eldest sister told her. Servants broke into the room, dragging my sister off me.
Not long after that, my mother died and I went to the Tower.
I reached out and touched her hair. Her eyes darted up at me. She was sucking now. I leaned backwards, staring up at the ceiling, head flung back, arms stretched out, supporting my upper body. I was trembling, moaning softly.
I came in her mouth, my blood and juice trickling out the corners of her mouth. I leaned forward, tipping her head up and kissing her. It’s strange to taste yourself off somebody else’s lips. Not unpleasant – tangy, unique.
She smirked and pulled herself up to sit on my right knee, straddling me. She pushed me backwards onto the bed, crouching atop me. I leaned upwards, reaching for the buttons along the back of her dress. I pulled it down to her waist, trailing my fingers up and down her sides and across her stomach. I might have given her the slight scar there once. I touched my lips to her nipples, which where hardened already.
She exhaled sharply, leaning downwards, closer to me, gripping my shoulders until I was sure they where bruised. I levered my knee between her thighs, rubbing her through the fabric of her dress. The fabric was becoming wet with ever stroke of my knee and her breathing was becoming ragged, coming out in short, irregular gasps.
I tugged the rest of her dress off. Eirana never wore undergarments. As an Accepted, when she had first cornered me against a wall and had masturbated against my leg (something that had stunned me to silence at the time), I found this bewildering. Even my sister had worn undergarments. Yet Eirana, when questioned about this, had smiled and said she ‘enjoyed a healthy breeze about her privates’. When I tried this, I found the breeze provided a constant state of arousal – probably why Eirana loved it so much.
Nakedness was something Eirana enjoyed so much more than me, even as she crawled up to give me better access. Sometimes I wondered where she got these ideas. Once, when she was licking melted chocolate from my stomach, she explained that it was how she was born, how she lived and how she intended to die. It must be peculiar to be Eirana. To be constantly on the brink of near-insanity. Sometimes, when her eyes glittered intensely and she bit down hard, I wondered what she was capable of.
She came without much prompting. Eirana always did. There was not much of a challenge with Eirana, never any subtleness, always-blatant sexuality. Sometimes I detested that.
Later, Eirana murmured that she loved me, kissed my forehead, rolled over and went to sleep. I hated when she told me she loved me; she knew I would never say it in return. She was like a puppy, hoping for a bone that she would never get.
I stretched out, again examining the blood that now made a red stain on my bedclothes. I absently reached out to touch a piece of caked blood on Eirana’s side.
“Mother?” That was Alviarin, at the door.
“Yes, Keeper?” I asked vaguely.
“Mother – there are papers for you to sign,”
I sat up. Eirana stirred, but didn’t wake up. “I’m coming,”
I dressed and left.