The Grey Tower

It still felt surreal.

Six months. He had been gone six months. Rodric sent him reports on Red’s well being, of course. Every morning the Amadician read about Jaryd’s struggle and the rest of the day was spent mired in guilt. He hated himself for not being there. But he... could not... He would have rather died than look into the Altaran’s dark bleak eyes. If there had been any accusation... any at all, the brown haired man would have simply walked off the top of the Tower.

They had been collared together; they had fought and bled together, and even with that between them... Zeen could not... The Lady had died. And he had not been able to stop it. He could not face his friend and mentor in light of that truth. He had failed. It was... too much. He could not bear it. He had wanted to run. He had sought an escape. At the one-eyed M’Hael’s behest, he had gone to the Citadel.

The Blightborder was not an easy place to endure, but as the weeks passed he had finally found some measure of peace. Battling the Shadowspawn hordes as they poured out from Tarwin’s Gap was straightforward and simple; he did not have to think. It did not require much beyond a willingness to destroy the monsters that were very clearly monsters. The shadows did not jump out with wickedly curved blades and remained as shadows, easily banished by firelight and roaring braziers that spat out embers and sparks.

The men and women that he fought beside did not so much as bat an eye as he had poured all of his rage and grief into the weaves that made the earth churn and heave. He pinned Sheis’ likeness to some of the inhuman faces. Those he destroyed with a savage kind of glee. No one blamed him. No one coddled him. He had no company he did not wish for, but he was not alone. Zeen was helping, and he had not realized how much he had needed to feel that.

Bit by bit, the battles pushed back the memory of the collar until he could sleep and wake without screaming. Bit by bit, the broken pieces of his soul that had shattered upon the sound of Red’s screams and his own failure, mended.

When finally the Amadician strode through the Gateway back to the Grey Tower, it was as the Captain General of the Green Ajah. He carried himself with ease, head held high, the line of his shoulders proud and unbowed. Zeen was silent for a moment, the silver-grey of his eyes taking in the tranquility of the Traveling Yard. The corner of his mouth ticked upwards and he nodded to the Aes Sedai on duty. He had been gone long enough.

A brief stop at the Infirmary and the tall Asha’man knew all he needed to know. Jaryd had not improved. Anger surged through him as he made his way to the Red Ajah’s quarters. His stride did not break for anything, and he simply moved through the crowds when they did not part quickly enough for him. He ignored the Aes Sedai and Asha’man that tried to catch his eye. He did not have time for their nonsense. The Yellows most of all. He knew Fiona worked in the Infirmary, but she was still learning.

That the other Yellows spoke of his friend in the way one would when referring to an invalid - or worse - was infuriating. The bond had snapped. The man had been collared. He had lost his lover. The Lady would have been Red’s wife. Pity was the last thing that Jaryd needed. Were there no other Greens present that would help them understand? Tea and constant supervision were not going to help ease any of that... desolate grief away. It could not simply be erased by herbs and incessant attention. It would not have surprised Zeen in the least if the Altaran was resistant to the bitter draught’s effects by now.

He did not have to guess which of the rooms belonged to his friend. It was the only door that remained unmarked. Zeen did not bother knocking and simply pushed his way in. His jaw clenched as he caught sight of Jaryd, seated listlessly in a chair by one of the boarded up windows. Red... Fury flowed unchecked for a moment and when he finally reined it in, he had to pull the Void around him. An unfamiliar Aes Sedai rose stiffly to her feet, her mouth opening. He merely lifted a finger, grey eyes hammer-like in their intensity as he silenced her.

“Leave. Now.” His tone was quiet but the sharp edge to his voice was unmistakable. He held the door open with his arm. She tried to sniff at him, but he simply stared at her until she realized her place and left her betters to their business. The hovering servant was quick to follow, but Zeen felt kinder towards him. He closed the door, taking a deep breath, letting go of the empty place that was bereft of emotion. He turned and crossed the room in four steps. The Green crouched down in front of the Altaran, settling onto the balls of his feet. He made no sudden move, content to wait until Jaryd recognized him. Something finally flickered in the depths of the coal black eyes and the smaller man’s face swiveled towards him.

The Amadician smiled a little as their gazes met. “Red. Your minders are gone now, but you still need to eat.”

“Do not use this weave unless you are prepared to pay the price.”

Jaryd sat on a rooftop in Ebou Dar with Kaia in his lap. They spoke of the future in low voices filled with emotion, the feelings they had never shared before finally brimming to the top and spilling over. He watched the Aes Sedai’s slender fingers wrap around Watari’s hilt, and thought his heart would burst. They watched the ships on the horizon while the summer sun shone down on them. Neither of them minded the heat….they gloried in it, in fact, until it burned Kaia to ash and she blew away on the wind. As the last motes dispersed, he felt something inside of him tear .

He knelt in the dirt with his hands over his head. The sul’dam wanted him to talk about Katrie. “Tell me about your daughter,” she said, her drawling voice dragging over his ears like hot coals. “Tell me all about my next pet.” He closed his eyes against the sudden pain that erupted in his chest. That feeling was not one the Seanchan woman could create; it belonged to him alone. “Oh that’s right…” Regann laughed, and the sound cut at him like a thousand blades. “Poor Shaeya, you have no children. You will never have children.” She touched him, gentle and almost comforting, but the pain did not stop. He put his forehead to the ground and wished for death.

Shadows flickered over marble and he turned away from Kaia to track them, fumbling at his belt. One of the assassins burned already; if they could capture the second, the murders would end. The lights danced and flickered, dazzling him. He realized too late that the darkness that lurked outside the reach of the lamp had leapt past him, smokey fingers wrapping around Kaia and sucking her away without a sound. Something tugged at his chest as he fell to his knees, tearing at him with claws of glass and ragged steel.

Ping. Ping. Ping. Delicate silver hairpins falling one by one in the darkness. Perfect curves melting against his body, soft lips on softer skin, amber and musk overwhelming his senses as inky hair fell about his face, fingers brushing lace and silk in the darkness...Light, why had he waited so long? He cupped the Domani woman's face, lowered his head to meet her mouth with his. As their lips touched long fingers closed on nothing and he fell against the wall, sliding down to curl at its base. An endless rolling tide of loss broke through him, leaving little more than a battered husk behind.

Voices compared notes in the far distance, fading in and out of his awareness Whispers. Murmurs. Shadows. Tears. Tears until his eyes burned and his face was scrubbed raw from the salt, and still they came. His stomach cramped from vomiting, his fingers ached from trying to pry the shutters from his window, his hands throbbed from the blows he had inflicted on the walls and furniture. Nothing could assuage the empty hole that consumed him. Kaia! He could not find her.

The haze parted a little; something seemed different. The Altaran curled against his chair and sat still, waiting for whatever might befall him with blank-faced resignation. Gradually he became aware of silence. No movement, no sound, no soft whispers or clink of porcelain. There had been...a man’s voice? The olive-skinned man’s thoughts drifted. If they had left him alone in truth, perhaps- no, not alone. He could hear breathing.

Eventually dark curls shifted and he looked at his new companion. They were eye to eye even with his visitor crouched on the floor, and Jaryd stared for a moment before putting name to face. Zeen. His caregivers had mentioned the Amadician had been selected as the Captain-General after- after- he couldn’t think it. The world trembled, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sensation of falling. When he opened them again, steel-gray eyes were still on his.

“Red. Your minders are gone now, but you still need to eat.”

Red. No one else called him that. The word pulled at him, a reminder of a time he could barely remember. His minders called him Jaryd sometimes, but typically referred to him by pronouns or descriptive phrases. They took care of him, but would not meet his eyes. They controlled his environment and his movements so he did not hurt himself, but would not speak their minds. His hands balled up into fists in his lap, anger abruptly bursting through the gray mist. For a moment, no more, color returned to the world.

“I eat,” he snapped, making a sharp gesture with his hands. “My minders make sure of that.” The words hurt his throat; how long had it been since he spoke? The pain felt distant and trivial; he ignored it. “They feed, water, walk, and groom me like a favored animal, and bring me puzzles and games as if I were a child. I cannot be trusted with anything that might damage me, you see.” He tried to laugh, but it sounded ragged and hysterical.

“They do everything in their power to distract me, but I see the bars of my gilded cage.” Dark brows drew together in frustration as the Red gestured to the room about him. The signs of the Tower’s efforts to protect him surrounded them. Aes Sedai and servants had taken his knives away, boarded his windows, filled his quarters with blunt-edged furniture that could not be moved. They allowed him to channel, but stood ready to stop him should he attempt to Travel away. He had tried, he thought, but the memory seemed a lifetime away.

His minders watched him every minute of every day. Eyes in the shadows, eyes in the light. None of them the eyes he longed to see. Zeen’s eyes were gray, he realized. Flat and cold, and yet vibrantly there. No thinly-veiled fear or pity from him, simply concern tinged with anger. On his behalf? “I will live, Zeen,” he said wearily. “I don’t seem to have any other choice.”

The Amadician did not answer, his gaze holding Jaryd’s. The Altaran’s eyes were dull and glazed over again, but the smaller man did not look away. That was good. There had been a burst of emotion in the coal black depths as the scarred hands clenched into abrupt fists... and again as Jaryd spoke of his cage, Zeen recognizing the anger and frustration that brought roaring life blazing back into the coal black depths. It had not lasted long; he had blinked and the bleakness bearing Jaryd’s face looked back at him. But it had been there. Which meant that Red was still there, somewhere, buried beneath the weight and agony of a broken bond.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly, addressing the man that was as a brother to him, “that it took me so long to come and see you.” The Amadician sighed softly, his hands going to run through his hair. He had not bothered to see to its maintenance, and after six months of negligence, it had become a curly wavy mess of brown that rivaled the Altaran’s. “I know you eat, but I have not. Let us see what there is.”

Zeen straightened to his full height in one fluid motion, noting that Jaryd shifted a little so dark eyes could follow his movements. That was also good. The Green Asha’man was not so foolish as to think that leaving the wiry man alone in any capacity was a sound decision. Tentative hope was warranted, certainly, but he was not so arrogant as to believe that his presence alone would successfully deter the Altaran from joining the Lady.

Perhaps if... He was staring at the boarded up window and shook himself.

Silver-grey eyes took in the surroundings as he removed the tray cover, unable to fully hide his surprise as he looked down. Everything had been cut and arranged in bite sized pieces. There was no fork, no knife, a dull rounded spoon all that was proffered. The consistency of the food resembled overcooked mush. The napkin was barely enough to cover his palm and made of some kind of material he did not recognize. Even the cup lacked a handle.

Fury cascaded through him again. This was ridiculous. Zeen understood the precautions; it was similar to the ones used on Gaidin that had unwillingly survived their bondmates. But this... this seemed excessive. This seemed wrong. He grimaced faintly and put the cover back on the tray.

“I can see now why you do not wish to eat, Red. And I cannot say I blame you.” The Amadician kept his tone light, coming back to where the Altaran was seated. Zeen took the opposite chair, slouching back into it, long legs stretched out in front of him. He folded his hands over his stomach and for a short while, they sat in silence.

The Amadician’s mind was spinning. I am Green Ajah. I am the Captain-General. He did not know if he was trying to convince himself of something or if he was seeking some kind of justification for what he was contemplating. Gaidin were not channelers, it was true, and very few channelers had the strength in the Power that Jaryd did.

But I do.

He did not particularly like where that thought suddenly lead, nor the way that that realization suddenly eclipsed everything else inside of his mind. Silver-grey eyes met coal black again. He did not like the way his brother was being treated. He liked the idea of Red’s suffering less, and his death even less than that. Light protect me... He closed his eyes for a moment. Perhaps one day, the Altaran would forgive him.

“Red.” He hesitated only a fraction of a second, grey eyes going flat as he braced himself. He seized saidin, weaving with deft precision. As the flows twisted together, Zeen’s arm shot out, his hand grasping onto Jaryd’s wrist. “I am sorry.” The intricate lattice of Power sank into the smaller man. “And I am not.”

A heartbeat passed, a second, and the sudden presence of another seared across his awareness. It was an assault against his very sense of self. There was a gaping hole in his chest, ragged and horrible, the aching sense of loss stampeding through that wound - No. Zeen gritted his teeth and clamped down as hard as he could against... against the bond and stood... the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Jaryd had jumped to his feet, eyes wide, so very wide that the whites were visible all around.

“What did you do?!” the Altaran screamed.

The Amadician did not have time to answer. He only raised his hands to protect himself, but otherwise did nothing as the wiry man’s fists pummeled him. Rage, horror, terror... above it all... bitter resentment... desperation... loneliness... Light, oh Light, he missed her... Zeen could not breathe, tears coming to his eyes as Red’s mind attacked him in concert with the blows.

A touch of Spirit flowed through their newly forged connection and the Captain-General tugged. “Stop.”

Jaryd lurched, a hiss sounding, but otherwise stilled. The Amadician released the Source, the Void falling away. That bitter resentment spiked hot and fast. He felt something surge up inside of him in response. It took him a moment to recognize it, but once he did... a soft sigh issued past his lips. Self-loathing. He had almost forgotten what that felt like. Red’s emotions still hammered against him, but Zeen pushed them aside, marshaling every ounce of willpower he possessed.

“I am Green, Jaryd.” He spoke quietly, an odd counterpoint to the emotions screaming within the confines of his skull. “And it is part of what we do. You are a channeler, but you are also a Warder that has lost his Aes Sedai. Perhaps you will hate me until we are ash and dust for bonding you. Perhaps I will never be able to release you. But that is something I am willing to live with, if it means you do too.”

He paused a moment, letting that sink in. His jaw ached from where the Altaran had drilled him. “I want you to live, Red. Or try to. If it is your fate to die... I wish for you to do it on your feet. Not on your knees.”

The Altaran pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, biting down hard on the tender skin there. The flash of pain barely registered, though he ground his teeth mercilessly against his flesh. Regann laughed at his efforts, standing over him in her blue and red dress. She put her hand on his wrist and he stared at it uncertainly. What did she want? She had already pushed past every boundary he had thought he possessed. “I am sorry. And I am not,” the sul’dam said, her voice oddly deep.

Something alien pressed against his mind, wrapping silvery fingers around and through his awareness. Jaryd pushed away from that strange presence as hard as he could, reaching blindly for the wall that separated him from- emptiness and pain assaulted him. Regann disappeared and he rocked back in his chair, curling against the renewed grief that clutched at his chest. A moment later he realized that it wasn’t Regann’s slender fingers that held his wrist, but rather a large hand that belonged to a larger man. Zeen?

The silver lines twisted together, settling and vanishing into him without a sound. Guilt, regret….an overwhelming sense of duty and purpose...an unrelenting stream of emotion that did not belong to him flowed into his mind. Kaia? Wild hope sprang up and he clutched at that presence, tears streaming down his face. Belatedly he realized the torn place in his soul had not shifted; the raw agony of loss was still there. A new presence occupied the same space and yet did not replace what had been.

Dark eyes flew open and the Red leapt to his feet, staring at his companion is utter disbelief. “What did you do?” He cried, his body trembling in shock. The Green said nothing, but guilt surged higher over that damnable bond, and Jaryd swore, lashing out without thought. It was not done. It simply was not done. Carra’s blue eyes rose in his memory, accusatory and distant, and he shoved them away. He had bonded her to keep her alive, and she had chosen to keep it in place once she was conscious again. It was not the same! His fists beat against Zeen without restraint as his thoughts jumbled together.

“Stop.”

The Altaran’s hands fell to his sides despite his best efforts, and he stared at his friend in wide-eyed horror. “You dare,” Red gasped as he struggled against the Spirit-driven order. “You dare force me?” His cheeks burned with the heat of angry tears, but his mind skittered away from what the Tower thought of a forced bond. That part of the law wasn’t pretty and- Zeen did this to me! Betrayal and resentment welled up, bitter, cold, and horribly real, so strong that for a time it even blocked out Kaia’s absence. The small man could count on one hand the number of people he trusted, and the one he had trusted most had- he clenched his fists and his jaw against another wave of fury.

Whatever Zeen had said, Jaryd had missed it. The last part rang through the chaos in his mind, however, freezing him in place. “I want you to live, Red. Or try to. If it is your fate to die... I wish for you to do it on your feet. Not on your knees.” The words came with a sense of genuine caring, and for a moment -almost- Jaryd could have forgiven the giant for what he had done. Memories of Zeen caring for him assaulted him from every direction, but the bond seared through it all, a violation that could not be ignored.

Trust is for fools. With the thought came the Void. It slammed around him and pushed everything away, far away, forcing it all to stay outside the bubble that encased his mind. In that emptiness, he was safe; the grieving man floated in darkness, nothing more than a pair of eyes in a vast empty plain as he searched for what to say. “On my feet or on my knees, it doesn’t matter,” he said finally, flat black eyes meeting steely gray. “The end result is the same for me.” Zeen did not reply immediately, but Jaryd felt that odd pressure on the bond again and stiffened, fingers curling into tight fists once more. “Whatever you are about to do, just do it,” he snapped, “It’s not as if there’s anything worse you can possibly do to me at this point.”

The Green’s face spasmed and hurt flashed over the bond, sharp, uncontrolled, then muffled behind a wall of stoic uncaring. Abruptly Jaryd stood not in this strange new room that had been arbitrarily assigned to him, but rather in the sitting room he had shared with Kaia. Perhaps I should ask the Seanchan to kindly come back later? The hurtful words poured from his mouth and he watched her beautiful face crumple beneath the weight of his scorn, felt hurt burst through her as surely as if his palm had connected with her face. He had closed her out in his anger, and mere weeks later he had lost her forever. Light..oh Light.

Zeen had turned as if to leave; Jaryd put his hand out, fingers curling around his friend’s arm. “Stop,” he said in unconscious echo of the man’s prior order. “Please...I didn’t think.” The world felt sharp and raw as he fought to find the right words. “I will not deny I am angry, but….I understand.”

“On my feet or on my knees, it doesn’t matter. The end result is the same for me.” Those lifeless black eyes bore into his own and Zeen felt his insides clench with fear as Jaryd spoke so casually of his impending death. It drove out guilt, overrode self-loathing, destroyed any hint of coherent thought.

No.

As he faced down his friend and mentor, the Amadician found that he could not speak. It mattered, he wanted to tell the former M’hael. How someone met their end... mattered. When all else fled, it was the only thing that mattered. But his voice would not cooperate and instead he let the silence stretch out and hang between them.

Briefly, he wondered if he should reinforce the bond with another Spirit-driven command against self harm. He was fairly certain that he could keep the wiry man from walking off the top of the Tower, but he could not watch Jaryd every moment of every day. I am sorry, Red, the Green wanted to say. But that was only half the truth, and he could not make himself lie. There was another side of him that was not apologetic at all, fiercely determined to save his brother’s life no matter the cost. And yet, he did not reach for saidin. Perhaps he would not need to. If he brought his entire focus to bear down upon the bond, perhaps that would be enough...

As they stared at one another, the scarred hands clenched into fists again, accompanied by another blistering wave of rage that somehow perfectly matched the icy stab of betrayal. The Altaran had sensed the intent; Zeen’s ministrations through the bond were clumsy and uncertain, and he had hesitated too long.

“Whatever you are about to do, just do it. It’s not as if there’s anything worse you can possibly do to me at this point.” Jaryd spat those words out and threw them up into the brown haired man’s face.

Zeen closed his eyes, unprepared for the flash of searing pain that lanced straight through him. He had thought himself ready, had thought himself braced for the worst that Red could throw at him. How wrong he had been. The reality of it was so very different and he yanked the Void around him before he could retaliate in some foolish fashion. I am trying to save your life!! But Jaryd would not hear; he would not care. The muscle in the Amadician’s cheek spasmed as he ground his teeth together. As he wrapped unfeeling nothingness around himself, he could draw in breath again. He pushed ahead, flat slate grey eyes going to the door.

Something... shifted in the chaotic bundle of emotions in his head that did not belong to him, a faint hint of warmth coming through to nudge at the horror and the regret, but the broad shouldered man did not attempt to decipher what it meant. He was not wanted here, and he had upset the Altaran enough. He turned on his heel, ignoring the dull hollow ache in his chest as his thoughts sprang ahead to Jaryd’s minders. They would need to know that the two Asha'man were a bonded pair now and -

“Stop.” Zeen froze as long spidery fingers curled around his bicep. The Void collapsed. “Please...I didn’t think.” Anger... frustration... bitter resentment... remorse? What-? He pushed back against the bond, not believing what he was feeling, but... no, it was there. The remorse pulsed in time with Red’s regret. “I will not deny I am angry, but….I understand.”

The urge to lash out and shake his arm free was strong, but the Captain-General forced himself to count to ten. He did not move, staring straight ahead. His rage frothed and churned, chased by guilt that became bitter icy resentment, only to morph into remorse that turned into loneliness and fierce, unabating longing. The ragged hole in his chest was still there and Zeen did not need to see it to know exactly where it was. It took the Amadician several more minutes to sort through what he felt from what Jaryd was feeling, the bond echoing and reflecting their shared emotional states back at each other with a curious resonance that made it nearly impossible to think clearly. He gave an abrupt shake of his head.

“I am angry as well,” the Green finally said, shaking. “I am angry that I cannot ease your suffering. I am angry at how you have been treated. I am angry that I could not save her. I am Green. What bloody good is my rank or my strength with the Power if I cannot...” He cut off abruptly, scrubbing his hands over his face. His fingers then went to rake through his hair in sheer impotent frustration. “Most of all, I am angry with myself for abandoning you, even though I know that I was in no shape whatsoever to help you.”

Silver grey eyes swung down, hammer-like in their intensity as they crashed against black. “But I am here now, and I will help you whether or not you wish for it. I will not lie to you and say that I am sorry, because you can feel that part of me is not.”

His voice was rough and uneven. “Light, Red! I do not want to force you, but Creator shelter me, I will. Even when you hate me for it. Even when I hate myself for it. You are my brother and I wish for you to live. So yes. I dare.” Zeen paused, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards. His slight amusement was wry and resigned. “I know it is not something you wish to hear, especially not now, but were our positions reversed, you would be the one forcing me. As it stands, I will face whatever consequences you deem fit once you are not trying to walk off the top of the Tower.”

Anger surged over the bond, swelling higher and higher, a tsunami of rage that threatened to break and crash at any moment. Jaryd closed his eyes and braced himself, his breath shaky despite his best efforts. He had thought being bonded to Dax had been extreme. Light, how wrong he had been! The intensity of Zeen’s fury overwhelmed him, erasing even his own grief and mourning for a few startling breaths as their emotions intermixed and shifted, magnifying higher and higher.

Light. Jaryd realized he had reached for the wall, long fingers splayed out and curling against the wooden paneling for balance. The confusing torrent subsided a little as words poured out of the Red’s new bond holder, confidence and concern rising in its place. No...Zeen felt no remorse at all. Jaryd appreciated his honesty, but could not suppress the surge of resentment that thinking about their bond brought him, even knowing what the Green had said was true. Positions reversed? Yes. He would have done the same. He had done the same. That did not make it any easier to accept.

The Altaran did not respond to his friend immediately. Instead he felt along the bridge of Spirit between them, feeling the differences in the flows. It wasn’t precisely curiosity that drove the exploration; desperation, perhaps. Frustration. A desire for distraction from the chaos within his own mind. The bond was nothing like any he had shared before, and to his intense annoyance, he realized he had no control at all. Even with Kaia he had been able to close off the bond, even if doing so had been the worst mistake of his life.

A wail threatened to erupt from him at the very thought. The cry did not come; instead, his fist slammed into the wall so hard he heard wood crack and dull pain lanced up his arm. “We were going to get married,” he said, his voice so clogged with tears that the words barely made sense. “She had Watari...I gave her- I asked her-” he stumbled over the words, fighting to get it out. “At the end, she said she wanted to stay.” His fist hit the wall again and this time he felt something snap. Compared to what Regann had done to him or the burning loss that consumed his soul, the injury barely registered.

Confusion roiled through the bond. “She….what?”

“Our bond….we could talk. It’s how she found us. I heard her before she- when- she wanted to stay! Light, Zeen, she didn't want to die. That Light-blasted thing hurt her so badly, she had no strength...I couldn’t- I didn’t-” he knew he wasn’t making sense, his words jumbling together as he struggled to explain, the surging tide of fear, grief, anger, and hate making it difficult to think clearly, let alone speak.

Eventually he gathered himself, wiping at his eyes with his palms. “I find no comfort in the Creator’s mercy, nor in believing we will live again when the Wheel turns back to this Age. If I must live, then I do so only to estroy the thing that destroyed her. If I can also take out the social system that tried to ruin us,” he glanced up at Zeen, his eyes red-rimmed and glittering, “so much the better.” He paused, his breath ragged as he fought for calm. “I want them all dead,” he said finally, his voice utterly emotionless.

I do not want to force you. The words echoed in Jaryd’s head as he fell silent. Abruptly his hand shot out and he wrapped his fingers around Zeen’s wrist. “It isn’t forcing if I give you permission,” the Altaran said softly. “Tell me not to die, Zeen. Use the bond.” He had to shove the words out against an onslaught of internal objections. “I want to self destruct. Don’t let me.”

The Amadician realized too late that his hands had curled into white-knuckled fists. He inhaled sharply, struggling to distance himself from the maelstrom of emotions that rocked through the saidin wrought connection. Light! Which were his? Which were Red’s? He could not say; they pummeled him without pity, without respite, and Zeen felt it all. He bowed his head, noting with an odd detached sort of recognition that his spine was stiff with the threat of violence. His shoulders were taunt, his entire body angled as if he was braced to dodge or parry a blow.

Nothing he had learned about the bond ever spoke of it being remotely like this. He... still had control in the most basic sense, but as it was happening now, the Altaran was proving that he could overwhelm Zeen’s sense of equilibrium with the faintest nudge. It went both ways. He could feel that it did. Creator shelter us both.

The corners of his eyes tightened as he felt Jaryd’s careful touch along the connection that bound them together. The rage crested, a barely controlled towering inferno and for a moment, the Green teetered on the brink. Teeth ground together as he only just managed to pull himself back, gulping in another ragged breath as the smaller man’s attention against the bond felt like nails through the skull. From somewhere within the miasma of soul crushing despair and emptiness, frustration surged forth, followed by annoyance. The breath hissed out between clenched jaw, the scar on his forehead throbbing in protest. Resentment flashed in a hot, painful burst.

Abruptly, tears blurred his vision and the tall man staggered back a step, reeling from the sheer magnitude of regret and grief that rolled off of Jaryd in waves, filling the bond until that was all that registered. He heard the sound of wood cracking, felt the dull pain that lanced up Red’s arm. Focusing on the words that stuttered out of the wiry man helped. Something broke in the smaller Asha’man’s hand as he struck out against the wall again, but the pain registered as droplets of rain would against the entire sum of the ocean.

Jaryd and Kaia... they could speak to one another through their bond? That explained much. The Amadician had seen death, had watched others die. That was bad enough. To feel... it... as Jaryd had... worse, to feel someone you loved die in your head... to hear their final thoughts... There was no surprise when the blistering hate came. It reflected between them both until it scorched away rational thought and peeled away sanity. No, the distant hollow comfort of the Creator and the Light would not help Red now. Revenge could sustain when all else had fled. The Seanchan had killed countless innocents. The Seanchan had murdered Kaia. The Seanchan had collared the both of them. Zeen’s mouth pulled down into a grim line. For what they had done to his home, for what they had done to the Lady, for what they had done to him and his brother...

I want them all dead.

...the Captain-General nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but Jaryd’s hand darted out and long fingers closed around his wrist again. “It isn’t forcing if I give you permission.” The Amadician’s mouth snapped shut so quickly he bit his tongue. “Tell me not to die, Zeen. Use the bond.” Something sharp cut through the bond, moving past the odd hesitance. “I want to self destruct. Don’t let me.”

Silver-grey eyes bore into black and the brown haired man nodded. His arm shifted from within the confines of the Altaran’s death grip and maneuvered his hand until he could clasp at the smaller wrist. It was not quite Jaryd’s forearm, but it would have to do. He did not look away. “I give you my word, Red. I will keep you from dying. I will keep you from self destructing. And when the time comes for you to venture into the heart of the beast, I will go with you.”

With all that stretched out between them, further words were not needed.

He turned over the swarthy man’s hand, inspecting the palm that was slowly swelling. It was broken. Cristianne would be more than glad to Heal it; she might consider him a fool, but it was not his injury for once.

Zeen’s expression softened a little as he looked up, giving his new bondmate an appraising look. “I will remind you of what you said when you try to break my jaw again,” his voice was rough, but the shaky smile was genuine. He worked his chin from side to side. From the way his cheek ached, there would be a bruise there later. “So Red. Are you ready for real food, real furniture, and to not be monitored every moment of every day?”