Fanfic:Ilaria's Three Arches

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Ilaria's Three Arches
Author(s)
  • Summer
Character(s)
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First Arch

Ilaria stepped through the glimmering Archway, anticipating she would burn in the light that shone from it. Strangely, as she stepped through the curtain of light to the other side, she didn't. It had been more a feeling of immersion rather than burning. Ilaria blinked to clear her sight. She stood by the window dazzled by the morning light, in her family's parlour in Baerlon. The parlour window and its curtains still did not block out the early bustle of the Second Mercantile Precinct - it never had. Her own home would be quieter, she vowed. It merely wanted a woman's hand, her hand, and that today it would receive it. She turned away from the window, smoothing a hand down her skirt - she found comfort in the familiar woollen skirt.

"Ilaria," her mother's voice roused her from beyond the room. "Are you ready? Daran is come to take you now." The older woman entered the room drying red hands on a rough apron. "We are proud of you. Daran is such a strong and upright young man, so handsome. You can always visit back, you'll only be a few streets away."

Ilaria smiled. Her husband of one week. He had waited for the house to be completed to come and take her from her family to start a new life. He was considerate, and all the things her mother had said. She smiled hopefully. Her sisters had gone on and married, and it had been only her who remained to leave the nest. Such a cuckoo she had been, among robins, but now, finally she had begun to stretch her wings.

"Ilaria," Daran said, catching her attention. The young potter stood by the door, his hat in hands that would never be quite clean of clay. She smiled, the young wife looking upon her new husband, hopeful. "The," he coughed shyly and flushed. Theirs had been a stilted courtship. "The house is ready now." The flush turned from ruddy to red and found a faint echo in Ilaria's own face, as both acknowledged the meaning of that. They had not yet stayed in the same house together.

"Come, daughter, kiss me, and be on your way. Life waits for no woman," her mother said kindly, embracing her daughter and then pushing her towards the flaxen-haired man at the door. Ilaria smiled shyly again at her husband, and then her gaze slipped past him as she saw in the hallway a silver Arch of white light.

Daran held out his hand, still red with the knowledge that he had not more than once kissed his bride, and rarely held her hand. Her eyes focussed beyond him, she stepped past him, barely registering the flush that turned from shy to offended. "Come now, be respectful, wife," he commanded, catching at her hand with his own. She shook his hand off reluctantly and continued forwards.

The way back comes but once. Be steadfast. The light burnt her, consumed her.

Second Arch

Ilaria stepped through the Arch and into the light. A servant ran past her, barely stopping and no less than throwing an apology at her over his shoulder. "What have times come to that servants run like rodents frightened by a cat," a cool voice said from behind her.

"What times, indeed," she answered, her own response as frosty as the other's comment. Her companion, Tyla Sedai of the White Ajah and formerly of Andor, was as icy as Whites were described. In fact, sometimes Tyla Sedai was so cold, Ilaria almost felt it had to be an act. Surely no Aes Sedai could be as detached as she seemed.

"You would wear the White shawl well, Accepted," the Aes Sedai continued, as though her initial comment and this one linked with the highest degree of compatibility. "The Sisters of my Ajah would welcome you well, were you to make the right choice."

Ilaria nodded. "And well I know that, Aes Sedai." Though to be honest she was privately confused that the older woman thought she would make a good White sister. In fact, Ilaria thought she'd make a terrible one. "Must I make my choice so soon, Aes Sedai?"

"Now? No, but sooner than you may hope, child," the pale skinned Aes Sedai responded. She was very pale, Ilaria noted, and had done so on more than several occasions. The pale white-blonde hair, watery blue eyes, and white clothes all made Tyla Sedai, as stern and as cold as she was, seem a little ghostlike, rather than real. "Perhaps you would be an asset to our ... order," the Aes Sedai added, looked aside at the younger Andoran.

"Order ... Aes Sedai?" Ilaria asked unevenly, scarcely believing what the sister hinted at and fighting to hide her shock.

"Order of Philosophy, of course, child," the Aes Sedai continued smoothly. "What did you think I meant - the Black Ajah? I assure you, I am no darkfriend." The Aes Sedai smiled, though it did not reach her eyes.

Ilaria nodded hoping to please Tyla Sedai. "Of course not, Aes Sedai, I would never mean to infer such a offensive thought." An Arch shimmered to her left, glittering with promise and glowing softly. 'Of course not, Aes Sedai," she repeated softly. The way back comes but once. Be steadfast.

Tyla Sedai made a sound that could have been anything from scepticism to agreement. She smoothed the white-fringed shawl proudly, and sniffed. "Well then, run along. I suppose you have your errands and such to do, perhaps classes? We will speak again. Begone."

Ilaria frowned as she peeled away from the Aes Sedai and hurried to discover what the Arch was. Curiosity killed the cat, she reminded herself, but then she had just been told to "scat ... cat" by an Aes Sedai. She supposed she felt rather catlike after all that, she admitted as she stepped through the Arch and was consumed.

Third Arch

Ilaria stepped into the curtain of light, far more sure of herself than she had been at any other Arch beginning or end. Both previous Arches had felt odd, as though they had been both life as it would have been, and life as it was. Which she supposed in retrospect was a silly thought, since the first Arch was for what was, and the Second for what is. Still - the Black Ajah? The light grew blinding and then she stepped through completely.

"The political maneuvering occurring in Andor alone are not unusual at a time like this - they are after all replacing their dead Queen. They say that Elayne Trakand is mustering some support - infants barely out of the schoolroom - but beggars cannot be choosers. No, it is this unrest at this moment and hour - when so much is already unbalanced," the woman explained. "If Andor is won by a Salidar White Tower Aes Sedai, thenit could spell fortune both good and ill. But if Andor is won by some greedy little noble, then Andor will be lost forever in the mire that will precede Tarmon Gaidon. We must look to all the nations, but especially Andor."

"We must also look to out backs - the Seanchan creep ever closer," Ilaria reminded the woman who paced back and forth at the window. She smoothed her grey-fringed shawl, reminding herself that she never would have been named First Clerk of the Grey Ajah if her fellow sisters had not had confidence in her.

"Look to the East, the West, the South. Look to the North as the Borderlands fall lax in their duties, and fear, should the Blight overrun us," responded the woman. "I have little news that is not already known this time. The Houses that newly support Elayne Trakand's bid are stripped of their experienced leaders and run in the hands of babes. The Lord Perival, High Seat of House Mantear, a boy yet, like the others. Lord Branlet and Lord Conail of the Houses Gilyard and Northan respectively. Finally, Lady Catalyn who is High Seat of House Haevin. These children are not enough to more than add numbers. Catalyn is a woman only in word - she is not yet old enough to know the true meaning of womanhood."

"Thank you," Ilaria interrupted, holding her hand. "The numbers can't hurt, though the inexperience in the games of politics may. I suppose you will now tell me than none have guardians?" The woman's nod was short. "I see. Very well, you have done well. Send me a message should you hear else of interest." The woman curtsied and marched out of the room. She would ever be soldier-like, proud of her usefulness. Ilaria sighed as a knock sounded at her door. "Enter," she called rubbing her temple and wishing for a moment's peace.

"The Light illumine you, First Clerk," Maere Sedai uttered as she entered the room. "Is your tension headache returned?"

"Yes, would that it would pass, but I fear only a brief visit to the infirmary would cure me of it and at present I have not the time nor the energy to go so far, in search of relief," Ilaria told the Grey sister. She frowned at an odd tightening in her eyes and then rubbed them. Surely she did not see an Arch? She didn't understand the significance of such an arrival - it surely could not be for her, and she certainly did not want to leave. She was First Clerk. The Grey Ajah would be thrown into turmoil if they had to select another leader so quickly after losing Leanna Sedai. Of course, it was a great honour that a Grey sister was instated as Amyrlin Seat, but still it was a loss to the Grey Ajah, and yet another - she stood and walked over to the Arch. The way back comes but once. Be steadfast.

"Ilaria - the Sitters are in agreement. They will vote, unified of course, for the sending of a diplomatic party to the White Tower - what are you doing, Ilaria?" Maere Sedai's words fell on deaf ears, as Ilaria looked curiously into the light of the Arch. "What are you doing? You cannot go through there - it could be anything - you cannot leave the Grey Ajah thus! It would cripple us!"

"- And the Grey Ajah will heal. I must do as I am directed, Maere. Find the Sitters and ask them to convene a council. You must find a new First Clerk." Ilaria pushed a hand into the light and then stepped through. She was consumed.