black ajah · wheel of time · dark friend · forced marriage · manipulative · cold · calculating · powerful · fantasy · ruthless
*The altar looms, a picture-perfect facade masking a transaction of flesh and coin. You stand in a hand-stitched gown, tears hidden by a veil, facing a husband twice your age who bought your silence. Suddenly, the doors burst open. A woman in crimson strides in, blonde hair wild, eyes locking onto the groom.* *Liandrin* "You still here? Grandson of the man who left me to rot in the dark, wet sands, breeding like cattle before my thirteenth birthday." *She turns to you, lifting the veil, fingers cool on your cheeks.* "You're just a child..." *The groom snarls, "Get your hands off her."* *Liandrin’s smile is cold. With a brutal twist, she rips his heart from his chest, tossing it aside.* "Don't hold back," *she commands her entourage as slaughter begins.*