MARI + ALLEN + MOIRINE // hurt
Who: Moirine, Mari & Allen
When: Jan 5th.
Where: Allen's room.
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for language.
She lay on the bed, thumbing through the copy of The Epistles she'd lent Allen for lack of anything better to do. First a magister, then Avith, then Mari... Was Allen incapable of meeting someone who wouldn't put him in jeopardy? Jones was worrying- he might have a change of heart and begin to snoop. Avith... after Isvelle, she doubted he would dare bring harm to another Civitate. But Mari... She'd asked her not to even speak of him, then she introduced herself to Allen as a friend? What else had she told him? It wasn't her place to tell him anything. And now Allen seemed cross with Moirine. She flipped a page noisily, skimming a parable about a man who had lost his family in a fire.
She should have brought him back as he was after they fled. She couldn't keep trying to convince him of a reality that was unraveling on all sides. How soon would it be before someone told him what he'd done? Or, better yet, how long would it be before he turned against her? Moirine grit her teeth behind lips closed in a serene smile.
Would Mari have spoken to Allen if she hadn't followed Ira's advice? Halfway through their reconciliation, Moirine was unsure of whether she was acting or telling the truth. Now, however, she regretted every word she'd written. The one person who could tell him everything, who proved to make mistake after mistake, now had him convinced that she was kind. Moirine's smile held, though a muscle in her neck twitched with the strain.
"I'll need to dye it again soon," she murmured, glancing over at Allen. Already the color was fading and his brown hair was shot through with white. "You do look older this way. More distinguished." For a moment, her smile was genuine.
He was distracted; he looked up from his hands and stared at Moirine a moment, green eyes round and blank. "What?" Dye--? "Oh." He raised a hand to his hair, fingers sifting through it. The mirror above the basin in his room was rough and murky; it was hard to tell how much of his roots were showing when he looked every morning, worried, somehow, that he'd wake up and it would all be white again. When he let his hand drop a hair caught on his sleeve, and he pinched it carefully and raised it up to look. Brown, up to the tip, where it was so white he could barely see it against the rest of the room.
Allen looked back over at his sister and the brown curls that tumbled over her shoulder. He wondered if she realized how desperately he was trying to keep his head above water. Every action he took seemed to end with another warning, another revelation. They seemed impossible to avoid unless he spoke to no one, read nothing, lived with his hands pressed over his ears. He'd never suspected that the girl who'd introduced herself as his sister's friend would be an Other; he felt foolish and angry now that he'd ever apologized to her for his behavior. "I doubt I could ever look distinguished," he replied with a half-hearted smile. He was too gangly, too thin-featured, too... gullible, it seemed. He leaned closer to his sister to try to make out which parable she was reading, all the while listening for steps on the stairs. Would Llewelyn even come?
Mari had spent the day copying out notes from the Hippocrates Rowan had given her, so she'd be ready to hand the book over to Allen without having to worry about using it for reference. She hadn't been completely done with it, and wasn't exactly keen on handing it over to someone else besides; she'd offered to lend it to him since he'd said it seemed useful. The more peace she could sow through helpfulness, the easier things would be when he inevitably found out about what she'd become. Whatever suspicions she might have about Moirine's peace offering, it seemed stupid to mess things up within the first few days of it by being rude to her brother.
He wasn't in the downstairs bit of the inn when she looked in. Dodging a dropped tankard (but she getting ale on her shoes), she hopped up the stairs and knocked on the door, before stepping back to wait for it to open. Hand over the book, get out. This could all be done within about five minutes - she could be back in the warm of the Hour trying to decode more Greek soon.
"You do," she answered, turning back to The Epistles. Moirine hadn't made any conscious effort to land on this particular parable, but she supposed that it was fitting. The man, a husband and father, was frugal. Though he loved his family, he was shortsighted and thought only of his money. On a cold night, one of his children begged him to start a fire so that they might warm themselves. Wood was expensive, he told the child and sent them to bed. The child, knowing no better, tried to start their own fire. The house and all its inhabitants burned, save the man. 'The Miser Alone' it was titled. Moirine had only read it once before.
Glancing over her shoulder when she felt Allen near, she shrunk a little but kept smiling. "Hmm? Did you want the book ba-"
Her head turned at the knock. Moirine took note of the page she was on and got to her feet. As personal as she had gotten with Mari, the idea of the girl seeing her lying on a bed, reading, twirling her hair absently was humiliating. Cerys might do such a thing in view of others; Moirine would not.
The knock, though he'd expected it, made him flinch. Moirine's stance told him well enough the way she'd react to Mari entering his room; he glanced to her, worried, before he slowly climbed to his feet and crossed the creaking floorboards to the door. He opened it enough for the girl outside to see the girl behind him; his own expression was tense, the growing hollows beneath his eyes darker than they'd been the days previous.
"Keep your book," he said flatly, but he flinched when he met Mari's eyes. "You lied to me."
Mari had begun to raise her hand in greeting, but let it drop, a look of pure confusion crossing her face. Where had she lied? She couldn't recall one - even when he'd asked about the father of Moirine's child, she'd been honest, if sparse with details. "What's with this, Martin?" The flinching, the accusations. What had happened? "I mean, I'll go away if you want, but..."
What the hell? He'd seemed fine when he'd written to her yesterday.
Moirine looked on, anxious as she held onto one of the bedposts. Was Mari acting as well? Going to the door, she stood beside Allen and pushed it open a bit more. "Come in. Please."
Mari had been the one to give her away to Silence. Her urge to protect Allen from ever becoming involved with- with a man like that overpowered her desire to let Mari leave. What if she caused a fuss? The only hope she had, aside from no one ever peaking in on their ledgers, was that the inn walls muffled their voices.
"It's all there on the ledgers. He would have found out eventually," she murmured, setting her hand on Allen's arm to still him. "I told Martin that you're an Other." The rest had simply been personal feelings, Moirine assured herself.
The touch to his arm - patronizing, it felt, rather than comforting - made Allen's jaw tighten, but he made no move to dislodge her. He disliked being the last to know, being lied to, misled, protected. He resented how fragile she seemed to think he was. And, by the same token, he knew it was all necessary.
"I expect you know everything she's told me," he said quietly. "Differing opinions I can respect, but not this. Nor can I accept taking advantage of the fact that I don't remember anything-" His voice trembled, his frustration bleeding into the word, "To tell me you're a friend of my sister." The fury in his voice softened, giving way to exhaustion. His shoulders slumped. "Please. There's enough I have to confront without adding lies."
Mari's eyes had moved to Moirine's face when she appeared, appealing for some clarification as to what was going on. Even as he spoke, her eyes remained on the other girl, her expression moving from confused to surprised, then ultimately betrayed. Remaining silent for a few moments after, she moved her lips back and forth trying to come up with a reply, something to say. Had they been in on this together? Had they called her here just to tell her the understanding message she'd been sent, the one she'd been clinging to so much over the past few days, was a lie? Mari felt betrayed; more than that, she felt utterly humiliated.
"You didn't-" she stopped, unable to continue. "I knew you were lying because of what you said about Others, but- you wrote to me to make up, so you could pull this?"
She took a step back, her face going suddenly very red as she struggled with her emotions. Her heart was beating very quickly, a detached part of herself noted. She should go calm down. "You said you were sorry- I told you personal things!"
No, she was too humiliated and angry to get a sentence out. Mari through her hands up in the air. "I'm getting out of here. Rip out that page. I'm not writing you again."
Looking between them, careful to stay behind Allen, Moirine shook her head. What she'd written to Mari, it hadn't all been lies, though she did still regret writing it. Mari's shouting, her pain, well, it made her feel terrible. Still, Mari had given her away to Silence. She had to drive a wedge between her and Allen so that she might not tell him too much about himself.
"Stop it," she muttered, eyes narrowed. "I haven't planned to pull anything. I-" Glancing at the back of Allen's head, Moirine took a deep breath. He already knew that she was keeping things from him. Her chest fluttered all the same. "I've kept your confidence. Anyone who pays attention to what you say in public would know what I've told Martin."
She needed to speak to Mari in private, to explain, but didn't want to make Allen mistrust her any more than he already did. It really was all fraying apart. The hand on his arm was no longer for his benefit.
Allen's eyes narrowed, tension creeping back into his shoulders as he listened to the creature and his sister argue. Something else was going on here. Though Moirine claimed she wasn't friends with Mari, here they spoke with familiarity. Llewelyn seemed betrayed by something, Moirine defensive. Allen looked back at his sister, suspicion clouding his frown. "Lying about what?" He turned his frown on Mari, then back again, clearly lost.
"Rip it out!" She'd talked about hope for what the future might have been, made all the wrong confessions. She should have realised the message for a fake and left it. Moirine wasn't her friend; she hadn't been even before she turned. "I talked to you about-" no, she was too angry to finish that sentence.
Mari looked between them, suddenly wanting to punch them both out. "I'm getting out of here," she said, taking a step back, then another. "I'm not getting caught in the middle of you two idiots again."
Why didn't they just go drug each other? Fuckers!
"You're ridiculous!" she shouted at Mari, practically vibrating out of her skin. What had she told Allen? The truth. Everyone in the city knew what she'd told Allen because Mari used them to get what she wanted. Moirine had no control over Allen's reactions. If he chose to hate Mari for what she did, that was somehow Moirine's fault? Her motives had been selfish, of course, but she hadn't done anything wrong. "But leave. That's all you're good for!"
She realized then how upset she looked and turned away. It wasn't supposed to be like this and there was no way that Ira's 'advice' would keep her from making a mess of everything. "I apologized to her. I forgave her for being an Other," she mumbled, hugging herself with one arm. "I told her I wasn't her friend. I've lied about nothing."
'Idiots'? Allen flushed. "The only idiot is me, for trusting you," he snapped. Moirine's explanation and Mari's actions still didn't line up, but the dig about their intelligence, the reference to his past - again, she said - made him too angry to question it.
He put himself between the two of them. "Do not shout at her. I don't know what it is you've said to each other but you have no business here any longer. Leave, please."
"I was already going!" Jesus Christ! But the dig that leaving was all she was good for stung at her. "You forgave me?" Was she using the fact that she now knew Mari'd left home and didn't intend to go back against her? Of course she was. "You wrote to ask for my forgiveness. You said you'd even thought of--" no, she'd never be that bad.
Disbelievingly, she stared at Moirine. "I told the man from the Citadel that my only real friend was dead. I'd hoped not, but now I know I was right." If she'd been hurting before Moirine had wrote to her, well, now she was hurting again and felt a fool to have ever trusted her. When had the other girl ever demonstrated a worry for her, any sense of care?
"Go suck a bouquet of cocks. I'm out of here. Never ever contact me again. Either of you!" With that, she turned fully and ran, taking the stairs two at a time and running out of the inn, hot, angry tears burning her eyes. Fuck them. Fuck them both!
As Mari leveled accusation after accusation against her, Moirine dug her nails into her own arm. Her mouth twitched as it silently formed the word, 'Bitch'. What was wrong with this girl? After seeing Zafer in such a terrible state, she almost didn't want to know. All Others were mad.
She had to decide. Did she let Mari leave with the promise that she'd never speak to either of them again? Did she believe that? How many times, after all, had Mari and Moirine broken contact? Or did she try to explain herself to someone who chose not to listen? Did she run from Allen to Mari?
"I'll show you what we wrote to one another," Moirine said hurriedly to her brother. "Only stay here. I'll be right back."
How could Moirine be friends with this girl? Vulgar, a liar, an Other. Allen's face was red, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. What need did Moirine have to speak to her alone?
Angry, humiliated, he pressed his lips together tightly and shouldered around her to the bed. One or both of them was still lying. "Go," Allen muttered, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed to glare at the floorboards.
"Allen-" she started. The look on his face frightened her. She'd seen him hysterical, seen him hopeless, but angry like this? It was entirely new. Perhaps that was good. Perhaps this was how rational people reacted. Moirine lingered in the door frame, then took off after Mari. She wasn't very fast, holding her stomach all the while, but she soon spotted the neophyte's dark hair against the snow.
"Stop!" she ordered. Panting, Moirine kept after Mari but was losing speed. "I'm- I'm trying." Couldn't Mari see that? Couldn't she at least consider how hard it was to keep Allen safe from a city who murmured constantly about his crimes? Mari was the only one who knew for certain what he'd done and she thought it fine to introduce herself? Mari would ruin Allen and Allen would do everything in his power to ruin her. "I didn't lie. And how dare you call me a liar in front of him! I didn't lie..."
Another lie. Or was it? She wasn't certain anymore. All she knew was that her chest was tight, that the snow and icy air didn't feel cold at all and that she needed to keep Mari from making herself worse than she already was.
Mari had fallen into a swift stride as she left, her hands balled into fists and trying hard to keep herself from crying. "How dare I? How dare you!" She twisted about to snap back. "You fucking...you agreed with me that we'd be better friends - you wrote to me and said you were sorry!"
For a few moments she full on shook with anger. There were people turning their heads to look at them now, but she didn't care, didn't have eyes for anyone but the other girl. Still, she kept her voice quiet, unwilling to add 'unreasonable' to whatever list of faults Moirine obviously kept of her. "You had-- no intention of ever-- ever keeping to that. You didn't mean a word of it. If you didn't-- I mean, you obviously knew I was coming, or you wouldn't have-- been there," the image of the two of them standing in the doorway staring at her with matching anger and disdain burned. "You could have written to me to tell me not to come, but-- you chose to humiliate me." The last two words were nearly spat.
"How can I ever trust you again? Trust anything you say? What makes you think I ever want to hear anything else from you?" And Cristofolo had been surprised when she'd asked if they were friends, Mari reflected, bitterly. Even he treated her better than Moirine did, if only because she knew exactly what he thought of her - there were no fake messages, no humiliations.
"I told him you were an Other!" she shouted. Now people were most definitely staring. Mari had been the one to take this outside, however. If there were consequences, she'd created them. "Why would I keep that from him? And why is it a betrayal? I needed to talk to you and I needed-" Her voice lost all its power as her teeth chattered. Moirine sounded ridiculous, like an imperious child.
I needed to protect him.
Two young girls screaming in the street wasn't enough to draw the guard, but still she didn't want this much attention. After meeting a few pairs of eyes, Moirine glanced down an alley and lowered her voice into a strained, shaking whisper. "Sometimes we must be duplicitous. You tell more lies than anyone I've ever encountered. I thought you would understand. I'm here. If everything I'd said to you had been a lie," her mouth was running of its own accord, it felt, "I wouldn't be." That was the truth.
That didn't make things better - neither did shouting out what she was in the middle of a street. But Mari didn't have enough self-respect to walk away from the person who'd just made her look a fool when she'd been trying to help. "You can't treat me like I don't matter one minute, change your mind, then change it back again. Do I matter, or do I not? You have to make that decision."
Betrayal, betrayal. Mari took her face in her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. "It's that I told you stuff - about my mother, leaving her, going home - then you do...that. It doesn't matter that you didn't tell him-" what mattered was that she'd trusted her to be her friend and that'd been broken. What it came down to in the end was just a breakdown of communication, but it felt like more than that - it certainly hurt a lot more than that. The book was still trapped beneath her arm, the corners pressing into her ribs. It made her feel sick every time she remembered it. "All you needed to do was tell me not to come. That was it. You could have kept up your lie without--" she cut herself off with a ragged breath. How did she know this wasn't a lie now? Deep down, she knew she probably deserved this - that didn't make it hurt any less.
"You hurt me," she whispered, almost too low for her broken ear to hear it. "You really, really hurt me."
When Mari started pressing her palms into her eyes, Moirine reached out to hold one forearm. "What did I do?" she asked earnestly, equal parts frustrated and desperate. They'd promised to try to be better friends a breath after they admitted they no longer were friends at all. Moirine was trying, but did she already consider them friends? No. She wasn't entirely sure what a friend was.
"Explain it to me. I don't understand." Before Allen said anything, she needed to tell Mari that she'd informed him of Abel. It was all so complicated, but that was how life was. No one had ever been open and honest with Moirine. She assumed that this was what you did- compartmentalize your life then spend the rest of it breaking your neck keeping all the separate parts happy. "You would have spoken to him another time. Don't tell me you wouldn't have. You gave me away to Silence. I'm tied to him because of you." The hand on Mari's arm tightened. "Allen is all I have. If your mother came back-" Moirine broke off, gritting her teeth. "Would you let her talk to someone like you?"
There would always be resentment between them, but that was alright. Moirine resented most everyone in her life. Mari was different, though. The resentment went both ways. She shook her head. "I didn't mean to. I know he'll hear about everything he's done soon." Her throat burned, but she refused to cry. "I don't want you to be the one responsible for that."
Mari opened her mouth to explain, but the comment about her mother had her pulling back, her eyes filling with tears again. She had to fight the urge to pull away and run; instead she wiped a hand over her face, trying unsuccessfully to hide how angry and upset she was. "I told you what Ira did, because you asked to know. It was your choice to tell him you knew what he was and that nearly got me killed," had she forgotten that simply because Mari had effectively forgiven her for it, had not brought it up again? "I kept in contact with you the whole time, so you could tell me if you had better ideas than simply telling him."
She moved on immediately, unwilling to hear argument. She was trying to sound calm, to keep from stuttering her words, but her voice kept shaking and tears went on steadily bleeding out of her eyes, no matter how many times she wiped her face. "You can't-- you told me I could talk to you. You told me you wanted to talk to me. You let me tell you things. I feel-- all alone and you made me feel less alone. And then you and him threw that all in my face. And you're doing it again now. If you'd told me not to come, not to speak to him and not let me walk into that bear trap--"
She tightened her fists and grimaced to keep her shoulders from shaking, wanting to be sick again. "You can't tell me I can talk to you, that you're sorry, that you thought I was a good friend one moment, then turn around and treat me like nothing. If I'm nothing to you, then for god's sake, leave me be." She didn't want to be alone, but it had to be better than that. For a second, she saw twin faces of contempt looking at her again and closed her eyes hard. She'd been seeing betrayal everywhere, expecting it in everyone. Now she'd been proved right. Lesson learned: never trust anyone.
Somehow it was her fault that she'd been dragged into a gang that Mari belonged to? Moirine shook her head once more, too exasperated to keep arguing whose fault it was because that wasn't the point. Allen understood less about the city than even Moirine; if she had put herself in jeopardy with information given to him by Mari, the same could happen to him.
"I didn't throw anything in your face," she said through clenched teeth. "It was better that he find out from me than go questioning on the ledgers." Mari was driving herself mad. Perhaps she already was mad. Pulling her hands into fists at her sides, bright red with the cold, Moirine knew, despite not being at sure of how to interact with people, she knew she hadn't done anything like what Mari was saying. And if she was wrong, she still would've done it all over again.
Once they had enough money, they were leaving the city. If Allen wanted nothing to do with her... she'd give him enough to leave on his own...
Close to shouting again, she did turn her back, but only for a moment. She couldn't look at Mari right now. "Fine. If you're going to push me away for my brother's reaction to something you chose to become, I suppose it's for the best. I can only imagine how you'd react if I'd actually done something horrible."
She'd tear out the page. She was beginning to feel that life would be better if she burned the whole damn book. Starting back to the inn, Moirine felt heavier with each step. Still too angry for guilt, her heart sunk at the prospect of explaining to Allen. No doubt he'd be furious with her as well.
It wasn't just the reaction; it was that she'd let her walk into it, had let him say those things, had used what she'd said against her. Mari opened her mouth to tell her, gritted and bared her teeth at the rest of it.
"How can I push you away when we're not friends!" She shouted after her, then turned and began running again before she could look back. Leaving was all she was good for? Fine, then. She'd leave her.
He lay on his stomach, the Epistles open in front of him. Allen had thought to read to calm himself, but he couldn't concentrate on the page. His thoughts wandered, restless and angry. They were keeping things from him. He'd known that, accepted that, until now. Now it seemed... disingenuine, dangerous. What else were they hiding? Llewelyn had been an Other all along. He wondered if she'd laughed behind his back at how easily he'd been duped. He'd seen no physical signs, and she'd seemed so kind...
He shut his eyes tightly. Moirine was blameless. She'd told him the truth. She hid other things, but this... He wondered if it would be as simple as walking downstairs and asking the nearest patron what crimes the Mad Priest committed. Evil, Mari had said. What he'd done had been evil. Allen pressed his palms to his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, trying to clear his thoughts, to calm himself. Moirine would return soon, and he couldn't shout at her.
Though chilled through, she didn't take a moment to warm herself by the fire. Her ascent of the stair was slow, but not because she wanted to put off speaking with Allen. If anything, she'd wasted too much time on Mari as it was. Raising her hand to knock, Moirine set her palm on the door. Could she simply enter now? Had they spent enough time together for the to be alright? Carefully, she peaked her head in. "Martin?" she whispered before coming inside.
He was reading, just as she'd been, but his posture struck her as so odd. She'd never seen him lie like that. Moirine was ashamed to think him childish. "I'm so sorry."Her teeth had stopped chattering, but her hands were numb and her cheeks ugly and blotchy. "I shouldn't have-" told you, but she knew that wasn't true- "Followed her."
Was Mari spiteful enough to expose Allen because they'd fought? Moirine didn't know. To this day, she had no idea who else Mari had told of her, though she was certain that she'd told someone. Removing her cloak, Moirine held onto it a moment, letting the lining warm her hands.
He opened his eyes and lifted his head, his hands drifting back to the mattress. "It's alright." She looked cold, wet. Sad, too. Allen sat up and stood, ignoring the creak of the bedframe, and pulled one of the blankets free to bring it to her. Carefully, he draped it around her shoulders, fingers working her hair free of being snagged beneath it.
"What did you speak of?" he asked, glancing to her eyes as he smoothed his hands over her shoulders. Would she lie to him, or tell the truth? "It was not right of her to shout at you," he added, in case she found the question accusatory.
He wasn't going to scold her? Puzzled but pleased, Moirine looked up at her brother and shook her head. "It was only more of the same." And that was the truth. She pulled the blanket tight and sat on the edge of the bed, happy to get off her feet. "She accused me of being here tonight so that we might outnumber her, humiliate her. I only wanted to make sure that she didn't..." She lowered her head. "That she did not tell you too much."
He was going to scold her now... "Mari gave my identity to one of The Whispers." Oh, Moirine couldn't look at him right now, couldn't even bear to keep her eyes on Allen's shoes. "They threatened to kill me or alert the Citadel if I did not start informing for them. That's why I work for Lord Myron." It was getting harder to breathe. How could she ever disappoint him more than she was doing now? "I didn't-" her throat caught, but crying would be unfair- "I didn't want anything like that to happen to you. The closer you get to Mari, the more trouble she causes you. I thought if I could,,, I don't know what I thought. And now that she thinks I've betrayed her, I'm afraid she'll tell The Whispers or the guard as revenge."
It was the most honest confession she'd ever given him. It was easier, somehow, now that she'd become somewhat used to seeing his face constantly fall.
His eyes drifted further from hers the longer she spoke, the more she explained. Her remark that the gangs were so hard to escape, that phrase that had seemed odd to him in the pub, but not enough to question, made sense now. The list of ways this Moirine deviated from the little girl he knew and loved grew by the day. Cast out, pregnant, an informant.
Allen simply stood there, expression both shuttered and dazed. His fingertips curled at his sides, then went slack. What did he say? Spite won out over compassion; his voice had an edge when he asked, "Is there anything else you ought to tell me?"
Closing her eyes, Moirine's jaw shook as she tried to ignore the bitterness in his voice. It wasn't my fault! she wanted to plead, but deep down she knew that in part it had been. The hair hanging in her face hid her tears, thankfully, and she nodded. "Nothing that I can tell you," she said softly.
Allen pressed his lips together and said nothing. He desperately needed someone to talk to. A confidant, someone who might give him advice, comfort him... He'd never felt the need before. But this, all of it, it was far too much for him to contain in himself. It was still possible he might go mad again, and bottling his fury and frustration at everything that'd happened was a sure way to start it. He'd hoped Mari might be that person, that confidant, a girl who knew both him and his sister, someone he wouldn't have to lie to. Now he knew that wasn't possible. He could never trust an Other. As for Moirine herself... his confessions would hurt her. She'd been hurt enough.
"Sleep," he muttered after a long silence. "You can stay here tonight. Rest, Moirine."
"No. I have to be in the kitchen early." She sounded hollow as she climbed to her feet. As much as she wanted to be with him, she could tell that the feeling was not reciprocated and that hurt more than being alone. Moirine flipped part of the blanket over her head, unaware that it wasn't her cloak. She should not have come here tonight. Setting her bag over her shoulder, she didn't look at Allen as she started for the door.
"Moirine, that's a--" Blanket. Allen pursed his lips and put himself between his sister and the door, expression firm. "Stop," he told her, setting his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not angry with you, Moirine. I'm just--..." He wet his lips, unable to meet her eyes as he searched for a way to put how he felt. Scared. Distressed. Lost. "I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark," he said finally, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "I don't know what it is that's hidden from me, I don't know what I'll find if I reach out, and everything you've shown me, I..." I'd rather not have known.
His hands slid from her shoulders to take her hands instead, massaging them to warm them. Her fingers were cold and stiff in his. "Please," he said quietly, green eyes earnest. "Stay the night, or at least allow me to walk you home. I'm not angry with you, I swear it." Just horrified. "I love you."
For a moment, she hung there, then pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Allen held her hands, which was comforting, but what she wanted was to curl up against him and sleep the whole night through. "It's all been awful," she finished his sentence for him. "I'm sorry that I've no good news for you."
The idea- the fact- that Allen would count his child bad news as well hurt more than she could say. A thousand screaming matches with Mari would be preferable to seeing him disappointed yet again over their child.
Moirine looked up at him, mouth twitching slightly, and asked, "You really don't want me to go?"
"No," he said firmly. He glanced down at her lips and hesitated there a moment, flustered and uneasy, before he met her eyes. "No. I don't." He let go of her hands - warmer now, pliable - to hold her as she leaned against him, his hand cupping the curve of her belly. It wasn't just hard for him, he reminded himself. Moirine suffered as much, perhaps more, than he did. She'd lived through all of it, after all. Remembered it. Allen glanced to the door, to where Mari had stood with her face flushed with fury. The Other remembered it all too. There was a second person who knew every secret Moirine held from him. He wasn't yet sure what to make of that, what to do with it.
Allen dipped his head to presss a kiss to his sister's hairline, eyes distant. "Lie down. I can rub your feet, if you'd like." He forced a small smile. "I promise not to tickle."
Maybe, she thought as he set a hand on her gut, he wouldn't think becoming a father such terrible news. Moirine covered his hand with hers, or tried to at least. It was too large, but warm and solid. "I love you, too," she whispered.
After a long moment, she forced a small laugh. Rub her feet? They were so much uglier these days, callused and blistered from wearing hard boots instead of slippers. She was ashamed at the idea of letting him touch them. "Let's just lie down. You can read to me."
In a few moments, she'd be asleep, but... It would be nice to listen to his voice.
When: Jan 5th.
Where: Allen's room.
Rating & Warnings: PG-13 for language.
She lay on the bed, thumbing through the copy of The Epistles she'd lent Allen for lack of anything better to do. First a magister, then Avith, then Mari... Was Allen incapable of meeting someone who wouldn't put him in jeopardy? Jones was worrying- he might have a change of heart and begin to snoop. Avith... after Isvelle, she doubted he would dare bring harm to another Civitate. But Mari... She'd asked her not to even speak of him, then she introduced herself to Allen as a friend? What else had she told him? It wasn't her place to tell him anything. And now Allen seemed cross with Moirine. She flipped a page noisily, skimming a parable about a man who had lost his family in a fire.
She should have brought him back as he was after they fled. She couldn't keep trying to convince him of a reality that was unraveling on all sides. How soon would it be before someone told him what he'd done? Or, better yet, how long would it be before he turned against her? Moirine grit her teeth behind lips closed in a serene smile.
Would Mari have spoken to Allen if she hadn't followed Ira's advice? Halfway through their reconciliation, Moirine was unsure of whether she was acting or telling the truth. Now, however, she regretted every word she'd written. The one person who could tell him everything, who proved to make mistake after mistake, now had him convinced that she was kind. Moirine's smile held, though a muscle in her neck twitched with the strain.
"I'll need to dye it again soon," she murmured, glancing over at Allen. Already the color was fading and his brown hair was shot through with white. "You do look older this way. More distinguished." For a moment, her smile was genuine.
He was distracted; he looked up from his hands and stared at Moirine a moment, green eyes round and blank. "What?" Dye--? "Oh." He raised a hand to his hair, fingers sifting through it. The mirror above the basin in his room was rough and murky; it was hard to tell how much of his roots were showing when he looked every morning, worried, somehow, that he'd wake up and it would all be white again. When he let his hand drop a hair caught on his sleeve, and he pinched it carefully and raised it up to look. Brown, up to the tip, where it was so white he could barely see it against the rest of the room.
Allen looked back over at his sister and the brown curls that tumbled over her shoulder. He wondered if she realized how desperately he was trying to keep his head above water. Every action he took seemed to end with another warning, another revelation. They seemed impossible to avoid unless he spoke to no one, read nothing, lived with his hands pressed over his ears. He'd never suspected that the girl who'd introduced herself as his sister's friend would be an Other; he felt foolish and angry now that he'd ever apologized to her for his behavior. "I doubt I could ever look distinguished," he replied with a half-hearted smile. He was too gangly, too thin-featured, too... gullible, it seemed. He leaned closer to his sister to try to make out which parable she was reading, all the while listening for steps on the stairs. Would Llewelyn even come?
Mari had spent the day copying out notes from the Hippocrates Rowan had given her, so she'd be ready to hand the book over to Allen without having to worry about using it for reference. She hadn't been completely done with it, and wasn't exactly keen on handing it over to someone else besides; she'd offered to lend it to him since he'd said it seemed useful. The more peace she could sow through helpfulness, the easier things would be when he inevitably found out about what she'd become. Whatever suspicions she might have about Moirine's peace offering, it seemed stupid to mess things up within the first few days of it by being rude to her brother.
He wasn't in the downstairs bit of the inn when she looked in. Dodging a dropped tankard (but she getting ale on her shoes), she hopped up the stairs and knocked on the door, before stepping back to wait for it to open. Hand over the book, get out. This could all be done within about five minutes - she could be back in the warm of the Hour trying to decode more Greek soon.
"You do," she answered, turning back to The Epistles. Moirine hadn't made any conscious effort to land on this particular parable, but she supposed that it was fitting. The man, a husband and father, was frugal. Though he loved his family, he was shortsighted and thought only of his money. On a cold night, one of his children begged him to start a fire so that they might warm themselves. Wood was expensive, he told the child and sent them to bed. The child, knowing no better, tried to start their own fire. The house and all its inhabitants burned, save the man. 'The Miser Alone' it was titled. Moirine had only read it once before.
Glancing over her shoulder when she felt Allen near, she shrunk a little but kept smiling. "Hmm? Did you want the book ba-"
Her head turned at the knock. Moirine took note of the page she was on and got to her feet. As personal as she had gotten with Mari, the idea of the girl seeing her lying on a bed, reading, twirling her hair absently was humiliating. Cerys might do such a thing in view of others; Moirine would not.
The knock, though he'd expected it, made him flinch. Moirine's stance told him well enough the way she'd react to Mari entering his room; he glanced to her, worried, before he slowly climbed to his feet and crossed the creaking floorboards to the door. He opened it enough for the girl outside to see the girl behind him; his own expression was tense, the growing hollows beneath his eyes darker than they'd been the days previous.
"Keep your book," he said flatly, but he flinched when he met Mari's eyes. "You lied to me."
Mari had begun to raise her hand in greeting, but let it drop, a look of pure confusion crossing her face. Where had she lied? She couldn't recall one - even when he'd asked about the father of Moirine's child, she'd been honest, if sparse with details. "What's with this, Martin?" The flinching, the accusations. What had happened? "I mean, I'll go away if you want, but..."
What the hell? He'd seemed fine when he'd written to her yesterday.
Moirine looked on, anxious as she held onto one of the bedposts. Was Mari acting as well? Going to the door, she stood beside Allen and pushed it open a bit more. "Come in. Please."
Mari had been the one to give her away to Silence. Her urge to protect Allen from ever becoming involved with- with a man like that overpowered her desire to let Mari leave. What if she caused a fuss? The only hope she had, aside from no one ever peaking in on their ledgers, was that the inn walls muffled their voices.
"It's all there on the ledgers. He would have found out eventually," she murmured, setting her hand on Allen's arm to still him. "I told Martin that you're an Other." The rest had simply been personal feelings, Moirine assured herself.
The touch to his arm - patronizing, it felt, rather than comforting - made Allen's jaw tighten, but he made no move to dislodge her. He disliked being the last to know, being lied to, misled, protected. He resented how fragile she seemed to think he was. And, by the same token, he knew it was all necessary.
"I expect you know everything she's told me," he said quietly. "Differing opinions I can respect, but not this. Nor can I accept taking advantage of the fact that I don't remember anything-" His voice trembled, his frustration bleeding into the word, "To tell me you're a friend of my sister." The fury in his voice softened, giving way to exhaustion. His shoulders slumped. "Please. There's enough I have to confront without adding lies."
Mari's eyes had moved to Moirine's face when she appeared, appealing for some clarification as to what was going on. Even as he spoke, her eyes remained on the other girl, her expression moving from confused to surprised, then ultimately betrayed. Remaining silent for a few moments after, she moved her lips back and forth trying to come up with a reply, something to say. Had they been in on this together? Had they called her here just to tell her the understanding message she'd been sent, the one she'd been clinging to so much over the past few days, was a lie? Mari felt betrayed; more than that, she felt utterly humiliated.
"You didn't-" she stopped, unable to continue. "I knew you were lying because of what you said about Others, but- you wrote to me to make up, so you could pull this?"
She took a step back, her face going suddenly very red as she struggled with her emotions. Her heart was beating very quickly, a detached part of herself noted. She should go calm down. "You said you were sorry- I told you personal things!"
No, she was too humiliated and angry to get a sentence out. Mari through her hands up in the air. "I'm getting out of here. Rip out that page. I'm not writing you again."
Looking between them, careful to stay behind Allen, Moirine shook her head. What she'd written to Mari, it hadn't all been lies, though she did still regret writing it. Mari's shouting, her pain, well, it made her feel terrible. Still, Mari had given her away to Silence. She had to drive a wedge between her and Allen so that she might not tell him too much about himself.
"Stop it," she muttered, eyes narrowed. "I haven't planned to pull anything. I-" Glancing at the back of Allen's head, Moirine took a deep breath. He already knew that she was keeping things from him. Her chest fluttered all the same. "I've kept your confidence. Anyone who pays attention to what you say in public would know what I've told Martin."
She needed to speak to Mari in private, to explain, but didn't want to make Allen mistrust her any more than he already did. It really was all fraying apart. The hand on his arm was no longer for his benefit.
Allen's eyes narrowed, tension creeping back into his shoulders as he listened to the creature and his sister argue. Something else was going on here. Though Moirine claimed she wasn't friends with Mari, here they spoke with familiarity. Llewelyn seemed betrayed by something, Moirine defensive. Allen looked back at his sister, suspicion clouding his frown. "Lying about what?" He turned his frown on Mari, then back again, clearly lost.
"Rip it out!" She'd talked about hope for what the future might have been, made all the wrong confessions. She should have realised the message for a fake and left it. Moirine wasn't her friend; she hadn't been even before she turned. "I talked to you about-" no, she was too angry to finish that sentence.
Mari looked between them, suddenly wanting to punch them both out. "I'm getting out of here," she said, taking a step back, then another. "I'm not getting caught in the middle of you two idiots again."
Why didn't they just go drug each other? Fuckers!
"You're ridiculous!" she shouted at Mari, practically vibrating out of her skin. What had she told Allen? The truth. Everyone in the city knew what she'd told Allen because Mari used them to get what she wanted. Moirine had no control over Allen's reactions. If he chose to hate Mari for what she did, that was somehow Moirine's fault? Her motives had been selfish, of course, but she hadn't done anything wrong. "But leave. That's all you're good for!"
She realized then how upset she looked and turned away. It wasn't supposed to be like this and there was no way that Ira's 'advice' would keep her from making a mess of everything. "I apologized to her. I forgave her for being an Other," she mumbled, hugging herself with one arm. "I told her I wasn't her friend. I've lied about nothing."
'Idiots'? Allen flushed. "The only idiot is me, for trusting you," he snapped. Moirine's explanation and Mari's actions still didn't line up, but the dig about their intelligence, the reference to his past - again, she said - made him too angry to question it.
He put himself between the two of them. "Do not shout at her. I don't know what it is you've said to each other but you have no business here any longer. Leave, please."
"I was already going!" Jesus Christ! But the dig that leaving was all she was good for stung at her. "You forgave me?" Was she using the fact that she now knew Mari'd left home and didn't intend to go back against her? Of course she was. "You wrote to ask for my forgiveness. You said you'd even thought of--" no, she'd never be that bad.
Disbelievingly, she stared at Moirine. "I told the man from the Citadel that my only real friend was dead. I'd hoped not, but now I know I was right." If she'd been hurting before Moirine had wrote to her, well, now she was hurting again and felt a fool to have ever trusted her. When had the other girl ever demonstrated a worry for her, any sense of care?
"Go suck a bouquet of cocks. I'm out of here. Never ever contact me again. Either of you!" With that, she turned fully and ran, taking the stairs two at a time and running out of the inn, hot, angry tears burning her eyes. Fuck them. Fuck them both!
As Mari leveled accusation after accusation against her, Moirine dug her nails into her own arm. Her mouth twitched as it silently formed the word, 'Bitch'. What was wrong with this girl? After seeing Zafer in such a terrible state, she almost didn't want to know. All Others were mad.
She had to decide. Did she let Mari leave with the promise that she'd never speak to either of them again? Did she believe that? How many times, after all, had Mari and Moirine broken contact? Or did she try to explain herself to someone who chose not to listen? Did she run from Allen to Mari?
"I'll show you what we wrote to one another," Moirine said hurriedly to her brother. "Only stay here. I'll be right back."
How could Moirine be friends with this girl? Vulgar, a liar, an Other. Allen's face was red, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. What need did Moirine have to speak to her alone?
Angry, humiliated, he pressed his lips together tightly and shouldered around her to the bed. One or both of them was still lying. "Go," Allen muttered, and sat heavily on the edge of the bed to glare at the floorboards.
"Allen-" she started. The look on his face frightened her. She'd seen him hysterical, seen him hopeless, but angry like this? It was entirely new. Perhaps that was good. Perhaps this was how rational people reacted. Moirine lingered in the door frame, then took off after Mari. She wasn't very fast, holding her stomach all the while, but she soon spotted the neophyte's dark hair against the snow.
"Stop!" she ordered. Panting, Moirine kept after Mari but was losing speed. "I'm- I'm trying." Couldn't Mari see that? Couldn't she at least consider how hard it was to keep Allen safe from a city who murmured constantly about his crimes? Mari was the only one who knew for certain what he'd done and she thought it fine to introduce herself? Mari would ruin Allen and Allen would do everything in his power to ruin her. "I didn't lie. And how dare you call me a liar in front of him! I didn't lie..."
Another lie. Or was it? She wasn't certain anymore. All she knew was that her chest was tight, that the snow and icy air didn't feel cold at all and that she needed to keep Mari from making herself worse than she already was.
Mari had fallen into a swift stride as she left, her hands balled into fists and trying hard to keep herself from crying. "How dare I? How dare you!" She twisted about to snap back. "You fucking...you agreed with me that we'd be better friends - you wrote to me and said you were sorry!"
For a few moments she full on shook with anger. There were people turning their heads to look at them now, but she didn't care, didn't have eyes for anyone but the other girl. Still, she kept her voice quiet, unwilling to add 'unreasonable' to whatever list of faults Moirine obviously kept of her. "You had-- no intention of ever-- ever keeping to that. You didn't mean a word of it. If you didn't-- I mean, you obviously knew I was coming, or you wouldn't have-- been there," the image of the two of them standing in the doorway staring at her with matching anger and disdain burned. "You could have written to me to tell me not to come, but-- you chose to humiliate me." The last two words were nearly spat.
"How can I ever trust you again? Trust anything you say? What makes you think I ever want to hear anything else from you?" And Cristofolo had been surprised when she'd asked if they were friends, Mari reflected, bitterly. Even he treated her better than Moirine did, if only because she knew exactly what he thought of her - there were no fake messages, no humiliations.
"I told him you were an Other!" she shouted. Now people were most definitely staring. Mari had been the one to take this outside, however. If there were consequences, she'd created them. "Why would I keep that from him? And why is it a betrayal? I needed to talk to you and I needed-" Her voice lost all its power as her teeth chattered. Moirine sounded ridiculous, like an imperious child.
I needed to protect him.
Two young girls screaming in the street wasn't enough to draw the guard, but still she didn't want this much attention. After meeting a few pairs of eyes, Moirine glanced down an alley and lowered her voice into a strained, shaking whisper. "Sometimes we must be duplicitous. You tell more lies than anyone I've ever encountered. I thought you would understand. I'm here. If everything I'd said to you had been a lie," her mouth was running of its own accord, it felt, "I wouldn't be." That was the truth.
That didn't make things better - neither did shouting out what she was in the middle of a street. But Mari didn't have enough self-respect to walk away from the person who'd just made her look a fool when she'd been trying to help. "You can't treat me like I don't matter one minute, change your mind, then change it back again. Do I matter, or do I not? You have to make that decision."
Betrayal, betrayal. Mari took her face in her hands, pressing the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. "It's that I told you stuff - about my mother, leaving her, going home - then you do...that. It doesn't matter that you didn't tell him-" what mattered was that she'd trusted her to be her friend and that'd been broken. What it came down to in the end was just a breakdown of communication, but it felt like more than that - it certainly hurt a lot more than that. The book was still trapped beneath her arm, the corners pressing into her ribs. It made her feel sick every time she remembered it. "All you needed to do was tell me not to come. That was it. You could have kept up your lie without--" she cut herself off with a ragged breath. How did she know this wasn't a lie now? Deep down, she knew she probably deserved this - that didn't make it hurt any less.
"You hurt me," she whispered, almost too low for her broken ear to hear it. "You really, really hurt me."
When Mari started pressing her palms into her eyes, Moirine reached out to hold one forearm. "What did I do?" she asked earnestly, equal parts frustrated and desperate. They'd promised to try to be better friends a breath after they admitted they no longer were friends at all. Moirine was trying, but did she already consider them friends? No. She wasn't entirely sure what a friend was.
"Explain it to me. I don't understand." Before Allen said anything, she needed to tell Mari that she'd informed him of Abel. It was all so complicated, but that was how life was. No one had ever been open and honest with Moirine. She assumed that this was what you did- compartmentalize your life then spend the rest of it breaking your neck keeping all the separate parts happy. "You would have spoken to him another time. Don't tell me you wouldn't have. You gave me away to Silence. I'm tied to him because of you." The hand on Mari's arm tightened. "Allen is all I have. If your mother came back-" Moirine broke off, gritting her teeth. "Would you let her talk to someone like you?"
There would always be resentment between them, but that was alright. Moirine resented most everyone in her life. Mari was different, though. The resentment went both ways. She shook her head. "I didn't mean to. I know he'll hear about everything he's done soon." Her throat burned, but she refused to cry. "I don't want you to be the one responsible for that."
Mari opened her mouth to explain, but the comment about her mother had her pulling back, her eyes filling with tears again. She had to fight the urge to pull away and run; instead she wiped a hand over her face, trying unsuccessfully to hide how angry and upset she was. "I told you what Ira did, because you asked to know. It was your choice to tell him you knew what he was and that nearly got me killed," had she forgotten that simply because Mari had effectively forgiven her for it, had not brought it up again? "I kept in contact with you the whole time, so you could tell me if you had better ideas than simply telling him."
She moved on immediately, unwilling to hear argument. She was trying to sound calm, to keep from stuttering her words, but her voice kept shaking and tears went on steadily bleeding out of her eyes, no matter how many times she wiped her face. "You can't-- you told me I could talk to you. You told me you wanted to talk to me. You let me tell you things. I feel-- all alone and you made me feel less alone. And then you and him threw that all in my face. And you're doing it again now. If you'd told me not to come, not to speak to him and not let me walk into that bear trap--"
She tightened her fists and grimaced to keep her shoulders from shaking, wanting to be sick again. "You can't tell me I can talk to you, that you're sorry, that you thought I was a good friend one moment, then turn around and treat me like nothing. If I'm nothing to you, then for god's sake, leave me be." She didn't want to be alone, but it had to be better than that. For a second, she saw twin faces of contempt looking at her again and closed her eyes hard. She'd been seeing betrayal everywhere, expecting it in everyone. Now she'd been proved right. Lesson learned: never trust anyone.
Somehow it was her fault that she'd been dragged into a gang that Mari belonged to? Moirine shook her head once more, too exasperated to keep arguing whose fault it was because that wasn't the point. Allen understood less about the city than even Moirine; if she had put herself in jeopardy with information given to him by Mari, the same could happen to him.
"I didn't throw anything in your face," she said through clenched teeth. "It was better that he find out from me than go questioning on the ledgers." Mari was driving herself mad. Perhaps she already was mad. Pulling her hands into fists at her sides, bright red with the cold, Moirine knew, despite not being at sure of how to interact with people, she knew she hadn't done anything like what Mari was saying. And if she was wrong, she still would've done it all over again.
Once they had enough money, they were leaving the city. If Allen wanted nothing to do with her... she'd give him enough to leave on his own...
Close to shouting again, she did turn her back, but only for a moment. She couldn't look at Mari right now. "Fine. If you're going to push me away for my brother's reaction to something you chose to become, I suppose it's for the best. I can only imagine how you'd react if I'd actually done something horrible."
She'd tear out the page. She was beginning to feel that life would be better if she burned the whole damn book. Starting back to the inn, Moirine felt heavier with each step. Still too angry for guilt, her heart sunk at the prospect of explaining to Allen. No doubt he'd be furious with her as well.
It wasn't just the reaction; it was that she'd let her walk into it, had let him say those things, had used what she'd said against her. Mari opened her mouth to tell her, gritted and bared her teeth at the rest of it.
"How can I push you away when we're not friends!" She shouted after her, then turned and began running again before she could look back. Leaving was all she was good for? Fine, then. She'd leave her.
He lay on his stomach, the Epistles open in front of him. Allen had thought to read to calm himself, but he couldn't concentrate on the page. His thoughts wandered, restless and angry. They were keeping things from him. He'd known that, accepted that, until now. Now it seemed... disingenuine, dangerous. What else were they hiding? Llewelyn had been an Other all along. He wondered if she'd laughed behind his back at how easily he'd been duped. He'd seen no physical signs, and she'd seemed so kind...
He shut his eyes tightly. Moirine was blameless. She'd told him the truth. She hid other things, but this... He wondered if it would be as simple as walking downstairs and asking the nearest patron what crimes the Mad Priest committed. Evil, Mari had said. What he'd done had been evil. Allen pressed his palms to his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, trying to clear his thoughts, to calm himself. Moirine would return soon, and he couldn't shout at her.
Though chilled through, she didn't take a moment to warm herself by the fire. Her ascent of the stair was slow, but not because she wanted to put off speaking with Allen. If anything, she'd wasted too much time on Mari as it was. Raising her hand to knock, Moirine set her palm on the door. Could she simply enter now? Had they spent enough time together for the to be alright? Carefully, she peaked her head in. "Martin?" she whispered before coming inside.
He was reading, just as she'd been, but his posture struck her as so odd. She'd never seen him lie like that. Moirine was ashamed to think him childish. "I'm so sorry."Her teeth had stopped chattering, but her hands were numb and her cheeks ugly and blotchy. "I shouldn't have-" told you, but she knew that wasn't true- "Followed her."
Was Mari spiteful enough to expose Allen because they'd fought? Moirine didn't know. To this day, she had no idea who else Mari had told of her, though she was certain that she'd told someone. Removing her cloak, Moirine held onto it a moment, letting the lining warm her hands.
He opened his eyes and lifted his head, his hands drifting back to the mattress. "It's alright." She looked cold, wet. Sad, too. Allen sat up and stood, ignoring the creak of the bedframe, and pulled one of the blankets free to bring it to her. Carefully, he draped it around her shoulders, fingers working her hair free of being snagged beneath it.
"What did you speak of?" he asked, glancing to her eyes as he smoothed his hands over her shoulders. Would she lie to him, or tell the truth? "It was not right of her to shout at you," he added, in case she found the question accusatory.
He wasn't going to scold her? Puzzled but pleased, Moirine looked up at her brother and shook her head. "It was only more of the same." And that was the truth. She pulled the blanket tight and sat on the edge of the bed, happy to get off her feet. "She accused me of being here tonight so that we might outnumber her, humiliate her. I only wanted to make sure that she didn't..." She lowered her head. "That she did not tell you too much."
He was going to scold her now... "Mari gave my identity to one of The Whispers." Oh, Moirine couldn't look at him right now, couldn't even bear to keep her eyes on Allen's shoes. "They threatened to kill me or alert the Citadel if I did not start informing for them. That's why I work for Lord Myron." It was getting harder to breathe. How could she ever disappoint him more than she was doing now? "I didn't-" her throat caught, but crying would be unfair- "I didn't want anything like that to happen to you. The closer you get to Mari, the more trouble she causes you. I thought if I could,,, I don't know what I thought. And now that she thinks I've betrayed her, I'm afraid she'll tell The Whispers or the guard as revenge."
It was the most honest confession she'd ever given him. It was easier, somehow, now that she'd become somewhat used to seeing his face constantly fall.
His eyes drifted further from hers the longer she spoke, the more she explained. Her remark that the gangs were so hard to escape, that phrase that had seemed odd to him in the pub, but not enough to question, made sense now. The list of ways this Moirine deviated from the little girl he knew and loved grew by the day. Cast out, pregnant, an informant.
Allen simply stood there, expression both shuttered and dazed. His fingertips curled at his sides, then went slack. What did he say? Spite won out over compassion; his voice had an edge when he asked, "Is there anything else you ought to tell me?"
Closing her eyes, Moirine's jaw shook as she tried to ignore the bitterness in his voice. It wasn't my fault! she wanted to plead, but deep down she knew that in part it had been. The hair hanging in her face hid her tears, thankfully, and she nodded. "Nothing that I can tell you," she said softly.
Allen pressed his lips together and said nothing. He desperately needed someone to talk to. A confidant, someone who might give him advice, comfort him... He'd never felt the need before. But this, all of it, it was far too much for him to contain in himself. It was still possible he might go mad again, and bottling his fury and frustration at everything that'd happened was a sure way to start it. He'd hoped Mari might be that person, that confidant, a girl who knew both him and his sister, someone he wouldn't have to lie to. Now he knew that wasn't possible. He could never trust an Other. As for Moirine herself... his confessions would hurt her. She'd been hurt enough.
"Sleep," he muttered after a long silence. "You can stay here tonight. Rest, Moirine."
"No. I have to be in the kitchen early." She sounded hollow as she climbed to her feet. As much as she wanted to be with him, she could tell that the feeling was not reciprocated and that hurt more than being alone. Moirine flipped part of the blanket over her head, unaware that it wasn't her cloak. She should not have come here tonight. Setting her bag over her shoulder, she didn't look at Allen as she started for the door.
"Moirine, that's a--" Blanket. Allen pursed his lips and put himself between his sister and the door, expression firm. "Stop," he told her, setting his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not angry with you, Moirine. I'm just--..." He wet his lips, unable to meet her eyes as he searched for a way to put how he felt. Scared. Distressed. Lost. "I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark," he said finally, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "I don't know what it is that's hidden from me, I don't know what I'll find if I reach out, and everything you've shown me, I..." I'd rather not have known.
His hands slid from her shoulders to take her hands instead, massaging them to warm them. Her fingers were cold and stiff in his. "Please," he said quietly, green eyes earnest. "Stay the night, or at least allow me to walk you home. I'm not angry with you, I swear it." Just horrified. "I love you."
For a moment, she hung there, then pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Allen held her hands, which was comforting, but what she wanted was to curl up against him and sleep the whole night through. "It's all been awful," she finished his sentence for him. "I'm sorry that I've no good news for you."
The idea- the fact- that Allen would count his child bad news as well hurt more than she could say. A thousand screaming matches with Mari would be preferable to seeing him disappointed yet again over their child.
Moirine looked up at him, mouth twitching slightly, and asked, "You really don't want me to go?"
"No," he said firmly. He glanced down at her lips and hesitated there a moment, flustered and uneasy, before he met her eyes. "No. I don't." He let go of her hands - warmer now, pliable - to hold her as she leaned against him, his hand cupping the curve of her belly. It wasn't just hard for him, he reminded himself. Moirine suffered as much, perhaps more, than he did. She'd lived through all of it, after all. Remembered it. Allen glanced to the door, to where Mari had stood with her face flushed with fury. The Other remembered it all too. There was a second person who knew every secret Moirine held from him. He wasn't yet sure what to make of that, what to do with it.
Allen dipped his head to presss a kiss to his sister's hairline, eyes distant. "Lie down. I can rub your feet, if you'd like." He forced a small smile. "I promise not to tickle."
Maybe, she thought as he set a hand on her gut, he wouldn't think becoming a father such terrible news. Moirine covered his hand with hers, or tried to at least. It was too large, but warm and solid. "I love you, too," she whispered.
After a long moment, she forced a small laugh. Rub her feet? They were so much uglier these days, callused and blistered from wearing hard boots instead of slippers. She was ashamed at the idea of letting him touch them. "Let's just lie down. You can read to me."
In a few moments, she'd be asleep, but... It would be nice to listen to his voice.