The Grey Tower

“...if it is in my power to do so, I will free your Dax.”

As the cloud of wood dust settled, the room was blanketed in eerie stillness. Katrie let her gaze follow the whirlwind of dancing motes that flitted past the window. They landed haphazardly where they fell. She dropped aching arms to her sides, muscles limp, the broken leg of the chair she had been wielding like a makeshift club slipping from nerveless fingers to clatter loudly onto the floor.

You will?

The tall Cairhienin turned slowly in place as she took in the entire breadth of damage she had inflicted upon her room. A flicker of something akin to awe flared. It failed to find purchase but she acknowledged it as it rolled off of her. Sable orbs stared at the remains of what had once been her chair... She had thrown it against the wall, over and over again, until the worn wood had simply snapped and collapsed in on itself. That had given her four perfect tools to use to vent her... displeasure.

“If it is the last thing I do on this earth.”

She had reduced her desk into a heap of giant splinters next. The pitted surface was still littered with the sparkling jagged remnants of the mirror she had shattered with rage-fueled swings. Very little had escaped her fury. Papers lay strewn together with random articles of clothing along the floor, dresser drawers and shelves ripped from their places and smashed into pieces. Her inkwell had cracked and bled out in a pool of glistening black. The doors of her closet sagged crookedly off their hinges, fractured and damaged beyond repair. The only thing that was not broken was the bed, the thin mattress and pillow absorbing the brunt of her madness.

“Until you can demonstrate that you've regained proper control of saidar, you will not be permitted to attend this class. Traveling is dangerous enough, without the additional worry of malfunctioning gateways. You are dismissed, Accepted Aikaterine.”

Katrie was awash in a strange bubble of calm, her insides finally, beautifully, numb. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, marveling at the easy way her chest rose and fell. At last, she had a better understanding of why Dax had resorted so frequently to violence. The explosive release of physical aggression left her unable to process anything more; she felt... nothing. And it was glorious. It was as if she had been scoured clean and emptied out... and she welcomed the waking oblivion.

“You are dismissed, Accepted Aikaterine,” she muttered under her breath, mimicking the way the Asha'man had so thoroughly... dismissed her. Well. There was more than one way to get what she wanted. Her eyes flew open of their own accord. She stepped over the wreckage of what was left of her room, ignoring the way her fingers ached and her arms burned. Books. She needed books. She was going to need to a chalkboard as well. Her head tilted to the side ever-so-slightly. Luckily for her, she knew exactly where to get one.

Thud.

The side of Dax’s foot struck the practice dummy with every ounce of strength in his body. He felt it reverberate up his leg and into his core before he dropped back into ready defense, took a breath, and kicked with the other leg.

Thud.

Jaryd had released him the day before. A day of silence. A day of nothing in his head but his own thoughts. The place he had once considered sacrosanct now felt too large and too small at the same time, his thoughts at once scattered and pressing far too close for comfort. The frustration he felt belonged only to him. The anger, the confusion, the guilt...all of it, only his. No random twinge from Katrie to divert him from that looming precipice, no rush of joy to distract him from the shadows...he had nothing but himself.

The dummy mocked him with its blank stare as his thoughts boiled. She kept her promise. Jaryd had been fairly close with the details of his meeting with Katrie, but Dax hadn’t needed him to explain. She risked losing her own power in order to give mine back. She had risked everything to keep her word, just when he had finally- he cut the thought off. It doesn’t matter. She let me go. Abruptly he lashed out, fists pummeling the dummy in impotent rage.

As his fists flew, his thoughts drifted to evenings he had spent sitting by a merchant’s fire on the long road between Tar Valon and Shol Arbela. He had been secure in his place in the world, but discontent and bored. He had wanted more, without understanding the price. Given the choice, would he go back to that life now?

Over that memory,he remembered a different kind of contentment...the kind found in the golden sun of his memory, and the scent of lilacs on the wind. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Her fingers curled into fists, her entire body rigid with the effort it took not to cry out. Katrie's eyes were squeezed as tightly shut as they would go, her lips pressed together into a thin, pale grimace. She heard her teeth grinding against one another, the sound echoing in her ears. She had never been paddled before and... The thought rattled loose inside her skull and she stopped trying to think.

Behaviour unbecoming of an Accepted of the Grey Tower.

She lowered her head, her forehead nearly touching her knees, enduring the pain of each successive blow that was applied with more and more force.
* * * Katrie chewed on the heel of some bread she had filched from the kitchens, gingerly maneuvering down onto the mattress as she studied her notes. Her breath hissed out between her teeth as she eased her weight onto bruises and welts. She had been made to return the chalkboard to its 'rightful place' in the empty study room that only she and Rav had once known about. Her second disciplinary bout came after that, followed by yet another one hours later when it was discovered what she had done to her room.

Something something actions will not be tolerated more outrage and words and such.

The tall Cairhienin hadn't actually bothered to listen. She glanced over to the books she had borrowed from the Library, piled together in a heap on the opposite side of the bed. She was missing something – she had to be. There had to be more information on channeling and weaves that didn't involve a classroom and the sanctimonious whims of Aes Sedai or Asha'man.

The pretty Accepted popped the last piece of bread into her mouth and gathered the leather-bound tomes to her. There had to be more information out there...
* * * She had been forbidden Healing.

Katrie found it odd that she couldn't be bothered to dredge up any kind of indignation or anger over it, but as the hours blurred together, she found that she just... didn't care.

Walking was difficult, sitting next to impossible. Her bruises had new layers of bruises on top of them, yellow-greens mingling with blue-blacks. Her welts bore fresh raw stripes, faded pinks and purples slashed with livid reds. The Aes Sedai were very creative, if nothing else, knowing how to finish with flair. A paddle, switches of Air, a rod, a cane... the riding crop had been new. She hadn't cried out once, a small part of her taking vengeful satisfaction in that knowledge even as the rest of her couldn't recall why staying silent was so important.

She inhaled sharply through her nose, trying not to move, knowing that she had to in order get back to her room. Even breathing hurt, the slight motion making it feel as if the muscles in her backside and the backs of her thighs were simply ripping apart.

A groan wrenched free from her chest as she forced herself to take a step, and the next one after that. Her gait lurched awkwardly, Katrie having to brace herself against the wall with one hand as she pushed herself forward. Eyes and whispers followed her from others clad in pristine whites and banded hems as she limped her way towards the Library, but she ignored them.

“Dakson Torellion?” Dax looked up from the sword that lay across his knees. The woman who faced him had a perfectly serene ageless face, her chestnut hair piled high on her head. She wore a pale yellow gown, and yellow and gold jewelry adorned hair, throat, ears, and fingers. What does the Yellow Ajah want with me? He stood and bowed silently.

“You are the Gaidin who intervened on Accepted Aikaterine’s behalf in Hama Valon, yes?” He nodded as he sheathed his blade, one eyebrow quirked in curiosity. That had been seven months ago. Seven months he did not particularly care to think on. “The Accepted, she is behaving oddly,” the woman said. Her tone remained even, her face still, but her fingers twitched in an odd way. “I had a thought that maybe she is troubled by what happened that night. No one else knows what really happened, Aikaterine will not speak on it even when pressed.”

Dax thanked the Light and the Creator for the training Malina had given him that allowed his face to remain impassive. “Behaving oddly?” he managed to ask, his tone carefully neutral. “May I have your name, Aes Sedai?” The woman’s name was Liza, and she would tell him no more, no matter how he phrased his questions. Explanations of Katrie’s problematic behavior was a matter for Aes Sedai, and Aes Sedai alone, it seemed. “What would you have me do?” He asked finally, frustration creeping into his tone.

“Speak to her, Gaidin,” Liza said. “You alone know what really happened that night,” she gave him a look that could have been understanding or subtle disapproval, “thus you may know something that could ease her mind. It is beyond time for her to be over this…episode.” The Yellow glided away, leaving Dax to stare after her while something akin to fear crept through his mind.

He could not stomach the thought of facing Katrie without the bond. He had had two days of freedom to seek her out, and had not done so. What good would it do? A small chance that he could help her existed, now. Perhaps the time had finally come...and perhaps not. He returned to the bench to stare, sightless, at the sky.

Katrie felt herself swaying back and forth from exhaustion, her feet feeling hot and swollen. But the idea of sitting was still unbearable, so she continued to stand, using a relatively intact part of the closet as a surface with which she could write on. She hadn't bothered to “clean up the mess” of her room like she had been ordered to; there was no time. And… nevermind the fact that it was physically impossible for her to do so, given her current state… it didn’t matter.

The bed had become a temporary trove for the collection of books she had pulled from the Library. She had even managed to salvage some of the ink and the cracked inkwell, the tips of her fingers capped with dried black smudges. Her writing quill had somehow emerged unscathed, but the polished point was quickly being worn down into a dull nub.

She ignored everything else save for her hand flying across the paper as her other one flipped through pages. Day had turned into night, and had become day again... and then she stopped paying attention. Keep going, she told herself. Keep writing. She had found scraps of information, hints and tidbits of what she was looking for, vague allusions to things like 'hiding weaves' and 'folding light'. She had no idea what any of it meant, but she had to get all of this written down, somehow, and she had to do it quickly. She hid the completed sheets of paper beneath her mattress, the effort worth every bit of agony it cost to do so.

The Accepted couldn't explain the sense of panicked urgency, but it gave her brief flickers of colour to thoughts that were otherwise dull, flat, and washed-out.

What felt like hours passed. She was taking a moment to shake her hand out as her fingers cramped again in protest, spraying droplets of black ink everywhere, when an unfamiliar sound intruded on her self-imposed solitude. Her head lifted and a furrow of confusion appeared between her brows. It took several more seconds of intense concentration before she realized that someone was knocking on her door.

“No one's here,” Katrie announced flatly, setting quill nub to paper again. “Come back later.”

The sinking sun shone blindingly through the glass walls of the Tower as Dax worked his way through the corridors to the Accepted quarters that ringed the levels of classrooms. She had told him which room was hers once, long before, and it took little physical effort to find it. He hesitated outside the door, feeling a twinge in his chest as he realized he didn’t know if she would actually be there. Finally he gathered himself enough to knock.

“No one's here,” he heard Katrie’s muffled voice through the wood. “Come back later.” Dax raised his eyebrows at her tone. Rather than heed her order, he turned the knob and slipped inside. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, then looked up. As he took in the room, he felt the first tendrils of anger begin to curl through his heart. An “episode”? Is that what you call this, Aes Sedai?

The room had clearly born the brunt of towering rage. If anyone understands that, it would be me, he thought absently as his eyes took in splintered furniture, torn up clothing, piles of books, and bits and pieces of torn and burnt paper. In the center of it all stood Katrie, a sheet of paper pressed flat against the broken door of her wardrobe, pen in hand, her attention fixed on whatever she was writing. She held herself as if in pain, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as he watched, but he could see no signs of injury. Her dress would need to be replaced, he thought, and her hair stood out in a messy halo around her face.

He kicked the broken chair to the side and strode toward her. She turned to look, and as their eyes met her hands went up, pen and paper falling to the ground unnoticed. “Oh!” she said, and then Dax wrapped his hands around her upper arms, their bodies nearly touching as he searched her face. He reached for her with his mind...and realized too late that he would find nothing there. His chest felt hollow and his head hurt; he could make no sense of the feelings rushing through him as the reality of their separation finally hit. Dominant over all of that, however, remained his fear for her, twisting and turning as his thoughts raced for an explanation. Finally he took a deep breath, swallowed, then took another. His fingers flexed, but he could not force himself to let go. Seven months.

“Katrie...what happened?”

Dax…

Something deep in her chest lurched, the flood of icy fire filling her with confusion. A heartbeat, a second one… finally a third… before the warmth simply vanished, swallowed by vast chasm that yawned beneath her. All she felt was the cold, freezing and numbing. It hurt to look into his eyes, still as perfectly blue as she remembered. Katrie took an abrupt breath, a wince of pain flashing across her face as the motion jarred her body. She looked away, focusing on his shoulder instead.

“This happened,” she answered, her voice dull and inflectionless. “I haven’t been able to touch saidar for over six months and apparently the Aes Sedai thought enough was enough. They treated me like a child at first… even paddled me. Told me I couldn’t join a Traveling class until I’d proven that I could demonstrate proper control of the Power. So I broke my room.” She shrugged slightly, shifting her gaze away from the man that had once shared her mind and glanced around her ruined surroundings.

“They told me to clean it up, but I haven’t done that yet. I… can’t. I’ll probably get beaten for it again, though I’m not sure how the Aes Sedai are going to top the riding crop.” She made a gesture with her fingers towards the pile of books on the bed. “I’ve been trying to find other ways to learn what I need to so they’ll leave me alone… but it’s…” her voice trailed off and after a moment, she just shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter.”

Katrie had to close her eyes as she instinctively reached out for him, her breath quickening, just a little, when she found only herself within the confines of her skull. She wanted to ask if Jaryd had freed the Tairen, but the words wouldn’t come. She wanted to look at Dax…but it hurt too much. He was so close… the scent of mint and lemon - his scent - wrapped around her, beckoning her down… memory threatening to rise and overwhelm her. She couldn’t… she couldn’t… but she also couldn’t find the strength to pull away from him either. In the end, she did nothing.

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered again, brown eyes opening, feeling his fingers like burning brands against her arms through the fabric of her dress.

His eyes never left her face as she spoke, but in his thoughts, he wrapped his hands around Liza’s neck and twisted. Behaving oddly? Bloody flaming Aes Sedai! His fingers flexed on her arms as anger and an odd sense of betrayal warred with the concern he could not ignore. She had let him go, and she would not meet his eyes. What business did he have there? Why did he care what happened to her?

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, her voice broken and small. Even paddled me...top the riding crop. Abruptly the jumbled chaos of his mind pulled straight, and he floated in the ko’di, blessedly free of confusion. He pushed her away from him, eyes traveling down her body, taking in her posture and the position of her legs, the dark circles under her eyes and the tangles in her hair. He released her shoulder and grabbed her chin with thumb and forefinger. His hand trembled, but he pushed up until their eyes met.

“They beat you.” He said, his voice flat and cold. “They hurt you so much you cannot stand, because you could not channel?” Anger beat at that bubble inside his mind, demanding his attention. He forced it away, focusing instead on Katrie’s face. There would be time for rage later; the woman in front of him needed his attention now. She nodded slowly, brown eyes expressionless. “For over six months?” She nodded again.

“Burn me,” he muttered as understanding blossomed, rocking him back on his heels. She couldn't channel....because of me? A moment later and he had cupped her face with both hands, struggling to find words that every instinct in his body screamed at him not to voice. This way lies only trouble and pain, his mind reminded him frantically. He ignored it. “It wasn’t your fault, Katrie. Light, it wasn’t your fault.”

She stared up at him, her brows lowering and drawing together as his words registered. His touch was soft, gentle… and she felt herself twitch beneath it, the barest hint of heat moving up her neck in response to him. What was he doing? Why...

Katrie felt searing pain flare to life behind her eyes. Her head ached. But it was her fault… how could he say otherwise…? Why would he say otherwise? Why? Confusion. Pain. Crimson fire. Warmth… hints of golden light at the very edges of her thoughts. A wild rush of exhilaration, forgotten until now, surged up from the pit of her stomach as the familiar feel of his callused palms whispered once again over and against her skin. How could she have forgotten that? She whimpered, white teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.

She looked back and forth between the blue of his eyes, trying to understand what was happening. She trembled beneath the heat of his gaze, her mind struggling, and failing, not to reach out for him. There was nothing there. How many times was she going to keep trying? Light, but she couldn’t stop... She shook her head, feeling his hands slide over her cheeks as she did so. She was coming undone. “It was my fault, Dax. How can you say it wasn’t?”

The words left her lips in a shrill rush and more followed, the Cairhienin Accepted unable to stop herself now that her silence had finally been breached. “How can you even look at me? How… why… I can’t… Why don’t you hate me?”

Dax's thumbs brushed her cheeks and his fingers traced the line of her jaw. He thought if he looked into her eyes for one more moment he would lose himself as thoroughly as he ever had while bonded. Abruptly he released her and turned away, head bowed.

The moment when she had admitted she could not remove the bond flashed before his eyes, remembered fury washing through him as his fists clenched. He had punched stone that day, their combined helplessness more than he could bear. He could remember very little of the weeks that followed, every memory twisting into the distorted darkness of intoxication and pain. He had killed someone to protect her, and even after spending six months at the Citadel for his crimes, he felt no regret for that death. Actions have consequences...he paid for his.

They had both suffered.

“I have good reason to hate you,” he said finally, voice rough. "When I came to the Tower I swore I would kill any woman who dared do what you did." He felt more than heard the involuntary catch in her breath. "All I have ever wanted is to be free." Let me out, Jemis, I won't do it again. I'll be good.

He took a deep breath and straightened his fingers, forcing himself to release the tension pent up inside him. "You never lied to me," he said softly, staring blankly at the floor. "You told me from the beginning you didn't want it to be permanent, you just wanted to know what it felt like. Nothing I have felt since then has told me otherwise, even when- even when it got really bad. You swore you would release me, and-" he turned to face her again, stepping so close they nearly touched, eyes blazing as he stared down at her.

"You kept your promise." His hand brushed her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair. Heat shot up his arm, and he wet his lips, struggling for composure. "You risked everything, and despite what it cost you," his gaze swept the room and his hand curled against her head, "you kept your bloody promise."

He met her eyes again, and the silence stretched. "How can I hate you when you're the only one who has ever given me freedom?"