Prompt 27: Wheel of Time Fic
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problematicfemslashTitle: succumbing to the taste
Fandom: wheel of time
Relationships: liandrin/nynaeve
Warnings: cannibalism
Medium: fic
Prompt: succumb
Notes: season 2 divergence, also forfemslashfete prompt cannibalism
There are many paths to walk through the night - Lanfear reaches out to Liandrin sooner, and the pattern shifts.
It starts with a simple, stilted sentence: "I am not allowed to teach novices... in the White Tower."
Funny how the Wisdom perks up at that. How she refuses all her instructors, but the moment Liandrin dangles something on the forbidden edge, Nynaeve snaps it up. Follows her to the room her son lived in, died in. It's unrecognizable from before, Tar Valon's housing prices have skyrocketed over the decades, no reason to lose her place over something as silly as sentiment. (Repetition is the trick to tricking one's mind.)
Liandrin has finished reheating the stew, rosemary and sage fragrant, when Nynaeve reveals herself. She enters without asking permission, her nose twitching and eyes zeroing in on the pot. Liandrin smirks, hadn't been sure this approach would work – but her gut suspected. She ladles out two portions, the far greater one for her guest.
"Shall we eat first?" It isn't a real question, not with Nynaeve's hungry gaze. Liandrin supposes one of her sisters must've gotten a touch more cruel in their impatience to get the girl channeling again, trying to starve it out of her. It isn't Alanna's style, she must be taking the failure personally.
Nynaeve doesn't wait on ceremony or perhaps she's worried the stew will evaporate. Takes the offered bowl and spoon, is barely sitting before she eats. The girl positively scarfs it down, more than halfway gone before Liandrin sits. Doesn't even notice Liandrin has only been moving her food around, hasn't had a single bite. Hunger is a rather effective weapon against the senses, including common.
Nynaeve finishes with a small sigh, eyes flicking to the pot. Liandrin pushes her bowl across the table. "My appetite is gone if you're still hungry."
The girl greedily takes it, eats slower but is no less thorough. Her eyes are shut in pleasure as she sucks on a chunk of flesh. It is a startling revelation, that the strong Wisdom, the one who saved so many lives with her very first showing of power – she's already tainted by the dark. She already enjoys the taste of mankind's deepest depravity.
Liandrin will have to come up with some new recipes. Can't have her getting bored or used to the stew. Perhaps she'll cook her a heart tomorrow; there's that annoying beggar boy who has survived the streets of Tar Valon on strangers' generosity for too long. A kinder fate than he deserves, to serve a higher purpose.
"Are you going to make me channel now?" Nynaeve says with a glare.
Liandrin could laugh, how carefully she scraped both bowls clean, all but licking them out, before asking. "Do you wish to channel?"
Her brows come together, confusion plain on her face. "No?"
"Then we will not do so today."
Nynaeve lets out a little huff, crossing her arms. Such an abrasive girl, wasted on the others.
"Unless you wish for me to force you to channel?" Liandrin offers, delights in how wide Nynaeve's eyes go.
"You can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Surely if that were possible, Alanna would've already done so."
"Perhaps if your little friend Egwene was sharing your trouble," Liandrin says, can't help the small dig even if Alanna won't hear it. "There are three ways to force a woman to channel that she can learn from. The first, you've experienced, being so deeply afraid that you instinctively seek out the source to fix it. Alanna will not create life threatening situations, will not invite that risk to train you. The second is pain, your case is not that dire yet. Alanna once got a deeply traumatized girl to channel after two decades of hiding from her own power. You haven't even hit a year."
"I- two decades?" Nynaeve shakes her head, switches tracks. "What is the third way?"
Liandrin reaches across the table, cupping her chin. Leans forward and kisses her, dirty and quick, before Nynaeve can gain her bearings. Sits back with a smile as the Wisdom's expression goes from dazed to righteous. Liandrin throws her a bone, tells her the last way.
"Pleasure of course. Have you not noticed it when you're intimate with another? The power coming closer to the surface as you approach a climax?"
Nynaeve startles up, nearly knocks the chair over. "I should be getting back now."
Ah, interesting. She has not.
Liandrin manages to hold her smug smile in until the girl is gone. Bringing Nynaeve to the dark will be even easier than she imagined. Far more enjoyable as well.
Fandom: wheel of time
Relationships: liandrin/nynaeve
Warnings: cannibalism
Medium: fic
Prompt: succumb
Notes: season 2 divergence, also for
femslashfete prompt cannibalismThere are many paths to walk through the night - Lanfear reaches out to Liandrin sooner, and the pattern shifts.
It starts with a simple, stilted sentence: "I am not allowed to teach novices... in the White Tower."
Funny how the Wisdom perks up at that. How she refuses all her instructors, but the moment Liandrin dangles something on the forbidden edge, Nynaeve snaps it up. Follows her to the room her son lived in, died in. It's unrecognizable from before, Tar Valon's housing prices have skyrocketed over the decades, no reason to lose her place over something as silly as sentiment. (Repetition is the trick to tricking one's mind.)
Liandrin has finished reheating the stew, rosemary and sage fragrant, when Nynaeve reveals herself. She enters without asking permission, her nose twitching and eyes zeroing in on the pot. Liandrin smirks, hadn't been sure this approach would work – but her gut suspected. She ladles out two portions, the far greater one for her guest.
"Shall we eat first?" It isn't a real question, not with Nynaeve's hungry gaze. Liandrin supposes one of her sisters must've gotten a touch more cruel in their impatience to get the girl channeling again, trying to starve it out of her. It isn't Alanna's style, she must be taking the failure personally.
Nynaeve doesn't wait on ceremony or perhaps she's worried the stew will evaporate. Takes the offered bowl and spoon, is barely sitting before she eats. The girl positively scarfs it down, more than halfway gone before Liandrin sits. Doesn't even notice Liandrin has only been moving her food around, hasn't had a single bite. Hunger is a rather effective weapon against the senses, including common.
Nynaeve finishes with a small sigh, eyes flicking to the pot. Liandrin pushes her bowl across the table. "My appetite is gone if you're still hungry."
The girl greedily takes it, eats slower but is no less thorough. Her eyes are shut in pleasure as she sucks on a chunk of flesh. It is a startling revelation, that the strong Wisdom, the one who saved so many lives with her very first showing of power – she's already tainted by the dark. She already enjoys the taste of mankind's deepest depravity.
Liandrin will have to come up with some new recipes. Can't have her getting bored or used to the stew. Perhaps she'll cook her a heart tomorrow; there's that annoying beggar boy who has survived the streets of Tar Valon on strangers' generosity for too long. A kinder fate than he deserves, to serve a higher purpose.
"Are you going to make me channel now?" Nynaeve says with a glare.
Liandrin could laugh, how carefully she scraped both bowls clean, all but licking them out, before asking. "Do you wish to channel?"
Her brows come together, confusion plain on her face. "No?"
"Then we will not do so today."
Nynaeve lets out a little huff, crossing her arms. Such an abrasive girl, wasted on the others.
"Unless you wish for me to force you to channel?" Liandrin offers, delights in how wide Nynaeve's eyes go.
"You can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Surely if that were possible, Alanna would've already done so."
"Perhaps if your little friend Egwene was sharing your trouble," Liandrin says, can't help the small dig even if Alanna won't hear it. "There are three ways to force a woman to channel that she can learn from. The first, you've experienced, being so deeply afraid that you instinctively seek out the source to fix it. Alanna will not create life threatening situations, will not invite that risk to train you. The second is pain, your case is not that dire yet. Alanna once got a deeply traumatized girl to channel after two decades of hiding from her own power. You haven't even hit a year."
"I- two decades?" Nynaeve shakes her head, switches tracks. "What is the third way?"
Liandrin reaches across the table, cupping her chin. Leans forward and kisses her, dirty and quick, before Nynaeve can gain her bearings. Sits back with a smile as the Wisdom's expression goes from dazed to righteous. Liandrin throws her a bone, tells her the last way.
"Pleasure of course. Have you not noticed it when you're intimate with another? The power coming closer to the surface as you approach a climax?"
Nynaeve startles up, nearly knocks the chair over. "I should be getting back now."
Ah, interesting. She has not.
Liandrin manages to hold her smug smile in until the girl is gone. Bringing Nynaeve to the dark will be even easier than she imagined. Far more enjoyable as well.
