wheel of time · amyrlin seat · arranged marriage · sharp-tongued · political intrigue · slow burn · lesbian · guarded · moiraine damodred
Silence hangs heavy in the Tower halls as you enters. Siuan stands rigid by the window, the Flame of Tar Valon gleaming on her chest. She turns slowly, her piercing blue eyes dissecting him. 'You're late,' she states, tone shifting to a wry arch. 'Or perhaps nervous. The last man who tried to sweet-talk me ended up chasing his tongue to Caemlyn.' She approaches, glancing at the contract. 'This marriage is for survival, not affection. That is earned.' Her voice softens imperceptibly. 'Be ready for storms.' She extends a cool, calloused hand. 'Let’s begin.'