A Journey North

[Emily Shale-Vanders]

Amelia Thorne

Amelia had been traveling with the Andoran army for a few days. They were heading north to Shienar and since that was her direction, it only made sense for her to travel along with. She told no one she was Aes Sedai, but spent her time among the women who took care of the camps day-to-day routines. As a result, she remained pretty inconspicuous. After all, what Aes Sedai would spend her time cleaning dishes or washing clothes.  It wasn't an odd thing for the Blue to do. She worked in charity, and you did what needed to be done.

Still, rumors were beginning to leak that they had an Aes Sedai in their midst. She couldn't hide the ageless nature of her face, and someone was bound to recognize it somewhere.  Her decision to remain hidden hadn't been one of deception. It had just been what she had needed at the time.  The name of their leader had been one that had got her attention, and had an effect on her personally.

Lord Taravin.

It was a name she had been familiar with for a long time.  Her best friend growing up in Caemlyn had been of House Taravin. They had met again as Novices in the White Tower and had built a friendship there. They had studied together often and when times got rough as they often did for Novices and Accepted, they had found comfort in each other's arms. The name had provoked memories - from childhood and novicehood, the pride she felt when her friend had been promoted to Keeper, and the sadness she had felt with her death. The name had stirred something within her, and she had felt the need to keep herself more anonymous as she remembered her friend. As she remembered Corele.

But with the rumors, she couldn't remain hidden. It was best for her to let the Lord know that she was in her midst and to offer her services to the camp. Aes Sedai were after all servants of all. Likely he would read more into this than she meant.  That was the great game. Bloody politics. Amelia approached a guard whose eyes met her as she approached. She had changed into a different dress - a blue one fitting for an Andoran noblewoman. Her attire before had been more subdued before. Her Great Serpent Ring was prominently displayed on the third finger of her right hand.

She approached the guard who opened his mouth to speak. "I am Amelia Thorne, Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah, and I would like to speak with your Lord to offer my services."

The guard's mouth remained open, but he recovered quickly.  Amelia hid her amusement under a serene face. "I will inquire right away, Aes Sedai," he said with a bow. "Please follow me." Amelia gave him a polite nod in acceptance as she followed him.

[Colette Moreau]

"Nicole Candraed”

Corele had heard the rumors slipping through the camp like smoke in the wind. An Aes Sedai was hidden among them. Light, let it not be true. If it was the Black Ajah…

She tightened her cloak with white-knuckled fingers, eyes tracking Leodon across the firelit field. If it was Black Ajah, they wouldn’t just kill him. They’d do worse. Corrupt or seduce him. Destroy from within. Bring down the army before they even reached Shienar. So for these past few days she watched him like a hawk circling above a hare, and when the gossipmongers began whispering about her early visits to his tent, she met their glances with cold silence. Her reputation could burn for all she cared. Leodon was all that mattered.

Still, the camp had needs. Even fear could not excuse her from duty. Nicole was currently bent beneath the slosh of heavy pails, grunting as she poured water into the cookpots. You’d think, after years of hauling her life across half the world, her shoulders would have grown numb to the weight. But no. Each trip tugged at old muscles, and each time, she swallowed a groan and moved faster.

The steam from the pots curled into her face as she stirred, lost in thought, until someone dashed up beside her, breathless.

“There is one,” the woman whispered. “An Aes Sedai. She came to Lord Taravin’s tent. Said she had a message from the Tower.”

Nicole froze, spoon in hand. A thousand thoughts thundered in her head. Aes Sedai. Here. She masked her shock, but her voice was too calm for the tension she felt inside.

“Did you catch a name?” The answer struck suddenly, and she was cold all over.

Later, she stood apart from the others, cloaked and hooded, shrinking into the shadows along a row of tents. It wasn’t hard to make herself small. Dirt and sweat clung to her skin, and weariness draped her bones like lead. Travel without the One Power was always harder.  Still, her eyes, half-hidden beneath her hood, watched the tent from a safe distance.

[Carter de Volthström]

Lord Leodon Taravin

Heir to the High Seat

The map of Shienar was spread across the table, held down at the corners with stones and a half-empty wine cup. Small carved tokens marked potential troop placements: some real, some meant to mislead if eyes untrustworthy happened upon them. The tent smelled of oiled leather and dry lavender.

Leodon stood at the head of the table, a gloved finger tracing the spine of the Drakon Ridge. “We make for Fal Moran initially,” he said, voice even.“But we can divert when we learn where we are needed most. General, train your scouts to watch for shadow spawn north of the Blightborder. They have to learn the signs.”

A murmur of assent passed around the tent. Commanders leaned in, discussing supply lines and fallback positions.
Then the flap of the tent opened.

A lower nobleman, member of Leodon’s entourage, gave a quick nod. “Apologies. A woman has arrived at camp. She says she is Aes Sedai.”

The tent fell still. Leodon straightened, smoothing the front of his coat. “Invite her in. With respect.”

Leodon turned to the gathered officers. “You are dismissed. We will resume after.” No one questioned him. By the time the last man stepped out, Leodon had moved to stand beside the carved chair near the fire.

When she entered, he bowed, not exaggerated, but enough. Enough to make clear who she was.

“Aes Sedai,” he said, voice resonant and sincere. “You honor my humble camp with your presence. If I or any under my banner can serve the White Tower, command it, and it will be done.”

[Emily Shale-Vanders]

Amelia Thorne

Amelia earned some looks as she followed the soldier through the camp. She heard the whispers of “Aes Sedai” as she passed. This had been expected. They had confirmations that the rumors were true. By nightfall the entire camp would probably know she was here. They arrived at Lord Taravin’s tent. Some people watched, their eyes going to the Lady wearing a blue dress in an Andoran cut. The soldier excused himself to go into the tent to alert Lord Taravin of her arrival. 

Moments later, officers exited. She moved to the side to allow them to pass, taking in their nods and respectful utterances of “My Lady” and “Aes Sedai.” The tent flap was being held open and she entered when indicated. 

Lord Taravin was a handsome man with bearing as well as formal and polite. He gave her a bow appropriate to one of her station. It was returned with a curtsy and a bowed head. ”Lord Taravin,” she said before rising to meet his eyes. ”I am Amelia Thorne, Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah.”

Amelia stood tall, befitting that of an Andoran noblewoman, her hands clasped in front of her as she walked closer. ”The honor is mine, my Lord.” she kept her face serene, but a smile came to her eyes. ”When I was a child, House Thorne and House Taravin were friends. I’m glad to see that friendship has lasted.” Both houses had stood for House Trakand. She continued forward, stopping an appropriate distance away from Lord Taravin. ”Lord Taravin, I’m sure you have much to do, so I will not take up much of your time. Aes Sedai means “Servant of All,” and in that spirit of that, I come to serve you and your camp.”

[Carter de Volthström]

Lord Leodon Taravin

Heir to the High Seat

Despite the canvas walls and earthen floor of the command tent, Lord Leodon Taravin carried himself with the dignity of a man born to his rank. There was not a speck of dust on his coat, not a thread out of place, though the road had been long and the camps crowded with the stink of horses and sweat. His bow, when he gave it, was precise and deep enough to honor the White Tower itself, his eyes never quite meeting hers not out of disrespect, but reverence. It was the look a man gave to power, not a woman.

To him, she was not simply Amelia Sedai of the Thorne bloodline, but a living signal of the Tower’s will, a woman woven into the Pattern with threads few dared touch. He might as well have been greeting the Amyrlin Seat in disguise.

The name Thorne was familiar to him, of course. One of the Twenty Great Houses of Andor, steeped in centuries of honor and maneuver. His mind flicked through generations of bloodlines, marriages, alliances. Leodon prided himself on remembering such things; to know a House was to understand its ambitions. But no particular Amelia came to mind, not in the last hundred years at least. Perhaps she was older, and likely she was. The Tower’s ageless grace clouded such things. Were it not for that agelessness in her eyes and cheek, he might have thought her younger than himself.

It always struck him strangely, standing in the presence of those chosen by the Pattern to wield the One Power. No matter how many times he spoke with Aes Sedai, the same chill ran along his spine. Not quite fear. Awe, perhaps. Or the echo of it.

He inclined his head again. “Our Houses have long shared friendship,” he said, his voice smooth as good wine. “And so I count myself doubly blessed to welcome a sister of the Tower whose blood runs with the nobility of Andor. You do me honor, Aes Sedai.”

His mouth quirked in the barest hint of a smile. “Though I fear your arrival finds us in less-than-dignified pursuits. The duties of a moving army are many and mostly mundane and nothing worthy of an Aes Sedai’s service. The road to Shienar is long, and we are thick with supply trains and latrine diggers. Forgive my bluntness, Aes Sedai. But when twenty thousand men march, twenty thousand more must feed them, shoe their horses, clean after them, and keep them from stabbing one another over the sausage.”

He gestured gracefully toward the wide campaign map on the table, where carved tokens of armored men, banners, and wagons marked their position along the route north. A black wolfhead rested just beyond the Spine of the World, a reminder of why they marched at all.

“Still,” he added, tone softening, “your presence alone will do more to lift spirits than a week of feasts. If I may presume, I would like you to meet Lady Graciela Armendariz. She is niece to King Togita of Shienar and the Lady of Fal Sion. She leads our escort to the Borderlands with both grace and the steel expected of her House.”

With a quiet word, Leodon turned toward the tent flap. A young man stood just beyond the entryway, his cousin’s son, if memory served. A young nobleman with more pride than experience, but loyal.

“Summon Lady Graciela, if she pleases,” Leodon said. “Tell her we are graced by a guest the likes of whom she would be pleased to meet.”

[Colette Moreau]

"Nicole Candraed”

Nicole crept as close to the command tent as she dared, her white cloak drawn tightly around her like a warding charm. The wool was thick, its weave fine, and it caught the snowlight in a soft shimmer, but even that felt too loud in her ears. A pale wisp against the muddied canvas world of soldiers and steel. She hunched her shoulders as if the posture alone could make her smaller, her breath rising in faint clouds, vanishing before they reached her lips.

The Aes Sedai had entered the tent only moments ago, and already the weight of her presence hung in the air like distant thunder. Nicole did not dare approach closer. The Sister might not sense her loitering outside not while her attention was on Leodon but others might. There were always eyes in a camp, and rumors sprouted like weeds from the cracks between tents. And she did not need any more rumors than there already existed. Light.

Did she have a Warder? Nicole glanced about, careful to move with purpose adjusting a crate, tightening a leather strap, brushing snow from a kettle already clean. She kept her back to the tent, hood up, eyes flicking from beneath golden lashes like a hawk pretending to be a dove. She saw no one who bore that stillness, that coiled grace, that told of a blade wrapped in flesh. But Warders could vanish in plain sight, if they wished it. Not seeing one meant little.

When Leodon summoned Berin (a cousin of sorts, seventeen years down the line and half-forgotten by his own kin) Nicole understood. Graciela, she thought. Of course. That’s who he would send for. That’s what she would have advised, had he asked. So she moved.

The wind curled around the tents, sharp and biting, as Nicole wound through the narrow paths of canvas and rope. She intercepted Berin with a polite murmur, far enough from Graciela’s quarters that they would not be overheard.

“Ahem.” She stepped into his path. “Do you need her Ladyship, Berin?”

The boy stopped, blinking. He had a kind face, if one easily lost in a crowd. Too many of his peers wouldn’t have remembered his name, but Nicole did. He was one of the forgettable ones: the middle son of a minor house, too proud to be ignored entirely, too plain to be seen without effort. But he always smiled when he saw her, as he did now.

“Yes, Lord Leodon requests her,” he said, moving toward the tent.

She tilted her head, cloak swaying softly. “At this time of day, you should let me inquire for her. It would be improper otherwise.”

Berin hesitated, looking toward the flap, as if the canvas might snap open and swallow him whole.

“He asks that if she be willing Lady Graciela join him to greet the Aes Sedai,” he said. He shifted his weight, the cold making him twitchy.

Nicole stilled. Her heart did not beat faster, exactly. It beat deeper, like a drum struck from within. “And did Lord Leodon say her name?”

“Ah… yes. Amelia Sedai. He said she was Andorran.”

Amelia Thorne Sedai.

The name landed like a blade turned in her gut. Her fingers found her stomach without thought, clutching the thick white wool as if it might steady her. Light, she had not heard that name spoken aloud in—

“Yeah, that’s right. House Thorne,” Berin added, with a sheepish shrug. “Though I don’t know any Amelias—” He caught himself mid-thought, as if realizing too late that an Aes Sedai was no courtly dancer to be spoken of so casually.

“Of course not.” Nicole’s voice was calm, too calm. “I’ll inform her Ladyship. Wait here.”

She turned quickly, before her face could betray her. The wind caught her cloak, billowing it behind her like the wings of some white bird about to take flight. But her steps were slow. Measured. Within, she was not walking. She was falling.

Amelia. Light help me. She wanted nothing more than to see her. To run to her, to fall into her arms like a child who had survived some terrible storm. But that life was behind her now. Corele Sedai had walked this land once, proud and unbending, but Corele was gone. Burned away in truth, even if no fire had touched her. And Nicole remained.

And what if Amelia was not what she seemed? What if she was Black Ajah? The thought curled cold in her belly. The world was breaking. Nothing was certain now.

She found Graciela quickly. The Lady of Fal Sion stood tall even in her moments of leisure, dark hair braided with silver wire, posture straight as a drawn blade. Misaki, her daughter, played with a leather-strung doll near the brazier, her cheeks flushed.

Nicole delivered the message without faltering. An Aes Sedai. Amelia Thorne. Graciela’s eyes widened, one dark brow rising as high as any banner. She asked no questions, only nodded and moved with purpose, Misaki trailing beside her with curious steps. Nicole showed them the way to Berin, then made her excuses and faded like mist into the camp.

She wrapped her cloak tighter, lowering her head, slipping back into the tide of soldiers and servants. But she could not help glancing as Lady Graciela and her daughter stepped through the tent flap.

Graciela and Misaki Armendariz

Lady Graciela Armendariz sat beneath a fur-draped canopy of the tent, her pen scratching softly across the pages of her leather-bound journal. The script was small and neat, a habit she had honed during her time in Tar Valon, where a letter improperly addressed could be a political misstep of unexpected consequence. Her thoughts had turned inward, reflecting on supply lines and diplomatic overtures left unanswered, when Nicole arrived with quiet urgency.

The words fell from the girl’s lips like polished stones: smooth, measured, impossible to ignore.

An Aes Sedai. In camp.

Graciela blinked. Once. Twice. The ink on her quill blotched slightly, as if even the page was startled.

Not that she doubted Nicole, and not that she doubted the Tower, Light no. But to hear that an Aes Sedai had come, and to know it with certainty—it struck her as though the Light had answered all her prayers at once. First, an army to escort her north. And now, a Sister of the Tower, a shawled emissary bearing the weight of Tar Valon’s silent will. She had begged the Amyrlin Seat for such aid and had been given only kind words, vague promises, and the Tower’s eternal concern. Yet now…

She stood at once.

“This is something Misaki must see,” she said aloud, though Nicole had already gone.

The child sat nearby, legs crossed, plaiting a strip of leather with more focus than necessary. Graciela caught her daughter’s eyes and gave a single nod. Misaki rose without a word, setting her work aside. There was something watchful in her expression, though she said nothing. She was only eleven, and yet her gaze was older; too old, Graciela sometimes feared, for a girl who still kept a carved fox in her satchel.

She would not make her mother’s mistakes. Misaki would know the world. The real world. The world where kings bowed to chairs in Tar Valon, and the Great Game played itself out with smiles and lies. The Borderlands had once stood apart from such things, proud and distant. But no longer. Even the Blight could not keep out politics forever.

They dressed quickly, though Graciela never presented herself in haste. Her dark gown was trimmed in silver and lined with fur, her hair woven in a crown across her brow, fixed with a circlet that marked both her nobility and her resolve. She wore no weapons, but her bearing alone made it clear she did not need them. There was steel in her spine, and more still in her gaze.

Misaki followed at her side, clad in the muted tones of the north, dark wool and finely stitched clothes. The girl’s coat bore the crest of Fal Sion subtle, but present. Her hair was neatly combed and tucked back in a practical braid. She did not fidget. She did not question. She only looked forward with eyes wide and heart steady.

They entered the command tent together, mud and snow clinging to the hem of their cloaks.

Leodon received them with the respect due her station, but it was Amelia Sedai who drew all the weight of the moment. The Aes Sedai stood like a pillar in the center of the storm, serenity cloaking her more fully than her shawl ever could. Graciela dropped into a graceful curtsy, Misaki copying her with only a half-second’s delay.

“You honor us, Aes Sedai, with your presence,” Graciela said, rising slowly.

Her voice did not tremble. It did not need to. Every word was weighed, every syllable measured. She had traveled too far, begged too many nobles, and endured too many polite refusals to waste this moment with anything less than full dignity.

[Emily Shale-Vanders]

Amelia Thorne

Amelia was both surprised and not at Leodon’s response. He would assume, both by her noble birth and the fact she was Aes Sedai, that mundane tasks would be underneath her. Amelia worked in charity, and in that line of work, Amelia had often had to get her hands dirty. She felt a little like he didn’t want her here, and it was by no means her intention to get in his way. Whether he wanted her here or not was immaterial. She would get to Shienar. She had to. 

Amelia didn’t even know why she had to go there. She just knew she did. Amelia could almost feel the pattern pushing her to the borderlands. There was a reason she needed to be there. She knew it. She had tried to ignore the tug, but it was ever present. And then she found herself near an army headed directly there. Of course she wouldn’t tell Leodon that. Men couldn’t understand much more than what you put in front of them. But perhaps Lady Graciela - she might understand. Amelia would play her cards close to the chest on that for now though. 

”If my presence raises morale, I would call that a job well done,” Amelia said with a light nod of the head. ”But should the need arise where you need me, you only need to ask. Advice, healing - although I’m not as gifted as my yellow sisters, I can heal, or even just someone to talk to that isn’t a soldier, I’m here. And I would welcome the opportunity to meet Lady Graciela.”

Lady Graciela arrived and Amelia looked as she entered. The woman held herself in a way that only royalty seemed to do correctly. A young girl, perhaps on the cusp of adolescence trailed behind her, both offering curtsies. ”The honor is mine, Lady Graciela,” she said, bowing her head in respect. ”I am Amelia Thorne, Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah

Amelia then turned toward the girl. Amelia’s serene mask didn’t falter, but inside, her insides quivered. A child. She had always wanted a child. Perhaps a young lady like this one. The opportunity never came and her child bearing years were long gone. She had taught lessons in the tower, but it had not filled that need or emptiness.

She offered the girl a smile. ”And you, child, what might your name be?

[Carter de Volthström]

Graciela smiled with only her eyes. Yet her expression held grace and a quiet pride as she inclined her head in reply.

Before she could speak, her daughter stepped forward; not quite boldly, but without hesitation. Misaki’s gaze met the Aes Sedai’s unflinching, and she dropped into a curtsy as practiced as her mother’s.

“I am Lady Misaki Armendariz of Fal Sion,” she said, her voice calm and clear. “Daughter of Lord Xavier and Lady Graciela, and sworn to the defense of the Borderlands.”

The girl stood straight again, shoulders square, not a flicker of fear or awe visible. Graciela did not add to it, nor soften the girl’s words. She simply placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder resting it there with all the dignity of a queen beside her heir, and nodded once in approval.

Leodon, standing just beyond the map table, gave a short chuckle and offered a small, respectful bow to Misaki. “Lady Misaki speaks well for her years. Fal Sion breeds iron. She made quite the impression in Caemlyn.”

He turned back toward Amelia Sedai, gesturing faintly as he responded. “You are gracious to offer your services, Aes Sedai. And we will humbly accept them when the need arises. Perhaps there is something yet unsorted you might lend your hand to.”

There was a flicker of decision in his gaze then he looked toward Graciela, as if weighing her judgment more carefully than his own.

“My Lady,” he said, “you know the camp and its needs. If you can think of some task deserving the aid of an Aes Sedai…?”

Graciela could have suggested anything. Logistics, aid, counsel to captains. But she surprised him with a faint smile and a thoughtful tilt of the head.

“Lady Nicole,” she said simply. “If there is someone who always knows what must be done, it is Nicole. She has a sharp eye and a quick mind. II would trust her to place the Aes Sedai where she might do the most good.”

Leodon blinked, not having wanted to invite another Aes Sedai into such a secretive inner circle, but soon he nodded after recovering a bit. Hopefully the Aes Sedai didn’t notice his hesitation. “A fair point, and well made. She is more resourceful.”

He looked toward the tent flap, raising his voice just slightly. “Berin, see if you can find … Lady … Nicole and bring her here.” The young noble, standing at quiet attention by the flap, gave a crisp nod and ducked out into the cold.

The moment Berin’s boots crunched into the snow, Nicole knew.

She’d already put distance between herself and the command tent, slipping between wagons and drying lines with the efficiency of someone used to being overlooked. She moved like breath through fog, deliberate and unseen. She had pulled her hood low, her white cloak blending with the sprawl of the camp, every inch of her presence meant to be mistaken for nothing.

She didn’t know what had been said in the tent, but she knew her name had come up.

Light, please, she thought. Not yet.

She wasn’t ready. Her heart felt as though it had been lifted from her chest and rung like a bell. If she saw Amelia again, she might say something she couldn’t take back. She might break, and Leodon could never find out. Worse, Amelia might see through her mask. Might look at Nicole and see Corele, and know what had been lost. Leodon could never find out.

Nicole ducked into the shadow of a supply wagon, crouched low behind a crate of salt beef, and stilled her breath. Berin passed not far from her, glancing left and right, not truly searching just looking, as most people did when they believed they’d find who they were looking for with ease.

He would not. Not this time. Nicole stayed low, the snow cold beneath her knees, the fur-lined edge of her cloak pressed to her face. Leodon cannot find out.

[Emily Shale-Vanders]

Amelia Thorne

Amelia wasn't easily impressed, but the young Misaki did. She had a maturity beyond her years. She showed no fear or awe at being in the presence of an Aes Sedai. At the same time, she showed appropriate protocol for meeting one of her statures. For a young lady just approaching adolescence, she was well trained. Leodon was right. She was well spoken and the Borderlands bred iron. She would make a good Aes Sedai. Amelia wondered if she had been tested. It was likely, but she would wait for a different opportunity to ask.

Amelia gave her a respectful bow. "A pleasure, Lady Misaki," she said, her voice sincere and the change to her name and title (instead of child) deliberate. She wasn't one to be disingenuous with protocols.

Leodon continued with the niceties asking Lady Graciela if she had anything. Quite frankly, Amelia would have been content to wait if something came up. She would check among the soldiers and civilians in the camp on their own. It was something she was used to. In fact, she had spent a great deal of time recently working alone. Ever since the change in leadership of the White Tower, Amelia had been out taking care of refugees. She wasn't in a rush to return with the deposition of a Blue Sister as Amyrlin.

Lady Graciela suggested checking with Lady Nicole, and that's when Amelia noticed it. A hesitation in a man who would seldom hesitate. There could be a myriad of reasons for it. Amelia filed the information away for later use. It wasn't time to ask about it or bring it up. Leodon was quick to recover and ask the young man who had found Graciela to find her. 

Amelia turned back to Lady Graciela after he left. This woman and her daughter were from Shienar and in meeting them, she felt the threads pulling her towards the Borderlands shift, a confirmation that she was heading the right direction. This meeting was supposed to happen. She was sure of it. "Lady Graciela," her voice was firm, but not unkind. "While we wait for Lady Nicole, I would very much like to hear of your journey from Shienar to Caemlyn." Amelia had only recently discovered that the news of things being calm in the Borderlands was false, even if she had already assumed that was the case.