An Offer Accepted

BY : CharonsPole
Category: S through Z > Wheel of Time Series
Dragon prints: 23401
Disclaimer: I do not own the Wheel of Time series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.


[Below is an excerpt from the Shadow Rising by Robert Jordan. I make no claim to having wrote this section I simply include it to set the scene for what follows. Rand has been woken from a nightmare concerning himself, Min and Elayne to find Berelain sneaking into his bedchamber half-dressed]

Now, where he had thought to see assassins, or thieves, one beautiful young woman stood hesitant and surprised in the middle of the carpet, black hair falling in shining waves to her shoulders. Her thin, white silk robe emphasized more than it hid. Berelain, ruler of the city-state of Mayene, was the last person he had expected.

After one wide-eyed start, she made a deep, graceful curtsy that drew her garments tight. “I am unarmed, my Lord Dragon. I submit myself to your search, if you doubt me.” Her smile suddenly made him uncomfortably aware that he wore nothing but his smallclothes.

I’ll be burned if she makes me scramble around trying to cover myself. The thought floated beyond the Void. I didn’t ask her to walk in on me. To sneak in! Anger and embarrassment drifted along the borders of emptiness too, but his face reddened all the same; dimly he was aware of it, aware of the knowledge deepening the flush in his cheeks. So coldly calm within the Void; outside . . . . He could feel each individual droplet of sweat sliding down his chest and back. It took a real effort of stubborn will to stand there under her eyes. Search her? The Light help me!

Relaxing his stance, he let the sword vanish but held the narrow flow connecting him to saidin. It was like drinking from a hole in a dike when the whole long mound of earth wanted to give way, the water sweet as honeyed wine and sickening as a rivulet through a midden.

He did not know much of this woman, except that she walked through the Stone as if it were her palace in Mayene. Thom said the First of Mayene asked questions constantly, of everyone. Questions about Rand. Which might have been natural, given what he was, but they made him no easier in his mind. And she had not returned to Mayene. That was not natural. She had been held captive in all but name for months, until his arrival, cut off from her throne and the ruling of her small nation. Most people would have taken the first opportunity to get away from a man who could channel.

“What are you doing here?” He knew he sounded harsh, and did not care. “There were Aiel guarding that door when I went to sleep. How did you come past them?”

Berelain’s lips curved up a trifle more; to Rand it seemed the room had gotten suddenly even hotter. “They passed me through immediately, when I said I had been summoned by the Lord Dragon.”

“Summoned? I didn’t summon anybody.” Stop this, he told himself. She’s a queen, or the next thing to it. You know as much about the ways of queens as you do about flying. He tried to make himself be civil, only he did not know what to call the First of Mayene. “My Lady . . .” That would have to do. “. . . why would I summon you at this time of night?”

She gave a low, rich laugh, deep in her throat; even wrapped in emotionless emptiness it seemed to tickle his skin, make the hairs stir on his arms and legs. Suddenly he took in her clinging garb as if for the first time, and felt himself go red all over again. She can’t mean . . . . Can she? Light, I’ve never said two words to her before.

“Perhaps I wish to talk, my Lord Dragon.” She let the pale robe fall to the floor, revealing an even thinner white silk garment he could only call a nightgown. It left her smooth shoulders completely bare, and exposed a considerable expanse of pale bosom. He found himself wondering distantly what held it up. It was difficult not to stare. “You are a long way from your home, like me. The nights especially seem lonely.”

“Tomorrow, I will be happy to talk with you.”

“But during the day, people surround you. Petitioners. High Lords. Aiel.” She gave a shiver; he told himself he really ought to look away, but he could as easily have stopped breathing. He had never before been so aware of his own reactions when wrapped in the Void. “The Aiel frighten me, and I do not like Tairen lords of any sort. “

About the Tairens he could believe her, but he did not think anything frightened this woman. Burn me, she’s in a strange man’s bedchamber in the middle of the night, only half-dressed, and I’m the one who’s jumpy as a cat in a dog run, Void or no. It was time to put an end to things before they went too far.

“It would be better if you return to your own bedchamber, my Lady.” Part of him wanted to tell her to put on a cloak, too. A thick cloak. Part of him did. “It. . . It is really too late for talking. Tomorrow. In daylight.”

She gave him a slanted, quizzical look. “Have you absorbed stuffy Tairen ways already, my Lord Dragon? Or is this reticence something from your Two Rivers? We are not so . . . formal . .. in Mayene.”

“My Lady. . . .” He tried to sound formal; if she did not like formality, that was what he wanted. “I am promised to Egwene al’Vere, my Lady.”

“You mean the Aes Sedai, my Lord Dragon? If she really is Aes Sedai. She is quite young - perhaps too young - to wear the ring and the shawl.” Berelain spoke as if Egwene were a child, though she herself could not be more than a year older than Rand, if that, and he had only a little over two years on Egwene. “My Lord Dragon, I do not mean to come between you. Marry her, if she is Green Ajah. I would never aspire to wed the Dragon Reborn himself. Forgive me if I overstep myself, but I told you we are not so . . . formal in Mayene. May I call you Rand?” Rand surprised himself by sighing regretfully. There had been a glint in her eye, a slight shift of expression, gone quickly, when she mentioned marrying the Dragon Reborn. If she had not considered it before, she had now. The Dragon Reborn, not Rand al’Thor; the man of prophecy, not the shepherd from the Two Rivers. He was not shocked, exactly; some girls back home mooned over whoever proved himself fastest or strongest in the games at Bel Tine and Sunday, and now and again a woman set her eyes on the man with the richest fields or the largest flocks. It would have been good to think she wanted Rand al’Thor. “It is time for you to go, my Lady,” he said quietly.

She stepped closer. “I can feel your eyes on me, Rand.” Her voice was smoky heat. “I am no village girl tied to her mother’s apron, and I know you want-“

“Do you think I’m made of stone, woman?” She jumped at his roar, but the next instant she was crossing the carpet, reaching for him, her eyes dark pools that could pull a man into their depths.

“Your arms look as strong as stone. If you think you must be harsh with me, then be harsh, so long as you hold me.” Her hands touched his face; sparks seemed to leap from her fingers.

[From here on its fanfic]

She kissed him confidently, her full lips as sweet as sugar and the Void fled with thought. Rand locked his arms around her shoulders and attacked those lips like a starving man. It was not love, even in his fevered state he knew that, but it wasn't hate either. And for the Dragon Reborn that would have to be enough.

He ran his hands down the back of her silken nightgown and grasped her rounded buttocks, lifting the First clear of the floor and turning towards his bed. Berelain broke their kiss and tossed her midnight tresses back, "So strong," she flattered, "so masterful." Rand feasted his eyes on the pale valley between her breasts before lowering his mouth to taste one, it was soft and warm and altogether wonderful. A sharp rap on his shin told him they had reached the edge of the bed and he collapsed onto it sideways. Berelain's eyes were closed as she bounced softly on the thick mattress, her lips curved in what he thought was a genuine smile. He kissed her all the more hungrily.

Placing her hands upon his bare chest, Berelain pushed away and drew one pale leg up under her. She smiled coyly as she crawled to the centre of the massive bed, her too-short nightgown riding high on her hips, the silken white panties she wore beneath hugging the generous curves of her bottom. Rand was so hard it hurt, it felt like his shorts and his manhood were trying to rip each other apart. Quickly joining Berelain he grabbed his sweat and sex sodden underwear and dragged them downwards over his backside, but his stiffened member held the front in place. "Let me do the honours, my Lord Dragon", she said bending over to pull his shorts up and out and down. His engorged penis sprang free and the head tapped the lady First on the cheek, leaving a small trail of clear, sticky fluid. She let loosed a startled gasp and giggled almost girlishly as she took in the sight of him. "Magnificent", she whispered and this time he thought she meant it.

Rand reached out and took hold of the straps of her nightgown, sliding them over her shoulders and pulling the flimsy garment down. The bountiful flesh of her breasts and the nipples that poked against the silken dress resisted him just as his shorts had but unlike his manhood, Berelain's body was soft and malleable. With a delightful shudder the gown came free and fell down around her hips. Her breasts were large and pale, her areola wide and brown, her nipples erect. "Magnificent" he whispered and truly meant it. She smiled proudly and pushed her shoulders back, regarding him with a raised chin and a regal look in her big black eyes. It was all he could take.

With one large, calloused had on either hip he crushed her chest to his. Kissing her lips, he pushed her back and fell on her. Disappointingly, his penis found only rough silk in the magical glade between her obligingly spread legs. Roughly he tried to drag her panties down, but his position between Berelain's thighs denied him. Fool sheepherder, he thought, then, that problem is easily solved. Hopping up on his knees he seized her underwear between his hands and ripped them, exposing the neatly trimmed black hairs on Berelain's womanhood. She lay before him, breathing deeply and watched him with shining, wide-open dark eyes.

Not waiting for any soft caresses or softer words, Rand took hold of his penis and aimed it at Berelain's slick crevice. "Yesss", she moaned huskily. "Take me my lord, take me the peaks of ecstasy and never let me fall." Her wordless groan was drawn out long as he slid into her for the first time, slowly savouring the impossible sweetness, until it became almost a thing of pain as he buried his sword in her to the hilt. Berelain blinked up at her strange new lover with an almost uncertain look in her eyes. It planted a seed of protectiveness in Rand, that fought with his inflamed lust. Fought and lost.

The Dragon Reborn closed his eyes and lowered his mouth to the First of Mayene’s elegant neck, kissing her. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and hips, crushing her to him. Berelain's creamy breasts warred with the toned muscles of his pale, hairless chest. Rand's had a hand tangled in the silken mop of her hair and another digging almost cruelly into a smooth buttock. He pulled his cock almost all the way out of her and thrust in again, hard. Again, again, again. Rand groaned desperately with each stroke, Berelain's own excited gasps strangely high-pitched given her sultry tones of before.

"Rand", she moaned, as she crossed her ankles behind his back. "Rand", she moaned as her hands caressed the thick muscles of his shoulders. "Rand", she moaned before nipping his earlobe with her teeth. "Rand", with every thrust until his own familiar name began to sound like music. Through the hand on her bottom he held her to him, and felt her muscles clench and relax as she moved in rhythm with him. The heated honey of her grasping sex reducing his resolve and his anger to nothing. Pleasure, only pleasure.

Still thrusting, Rand raised his head from Berelain's shoulder to behold the strange and wondrous woman who could do so much in so short a time. Her eyes were squeezed shut, small frown lines marring her beautiful face, her cheeks blushed furiously. Still, she gasped his name, her mouth wide open, ready to hold anything. A tongue perhaps, for now. He kissed her with unwonted tenderness, their rhythm undiminished, his tongue ventured over her lip and into her mouth were it was delightfully met by her own. Berelain trailed her fingers down his face once more and opened those magnificent dark eyes. They reminded him of Min's... and with that he felt it begin.

His rhythm faltered and Rand began to feel a little desperate. Ladies first, was a slogan by which any man worth the title lived by after all. But Berelain only grinned at his predicament and clasped his head between her hands. She looked right into his eyes, her own alight with mischief and began to wriggle beneath him. "Oh my darling Rand," she teased artfully, "full to bursting with passion. Give your passion to me my darling. Let me be your lighthouse, let the waves crash against me. Surging... until they fill me..."

And, with a throaty laugh, she grabbed one of his firm, muscular buttocks in either hand and squeezed, pulling him into her one more time. He reared up as he felt the most exquisite of pleasures burst forth, better than saidin could ever be. He shouted her name without realising. Wave after wave of pleasure surged through him as his seed filled Berelain's womb and some dim corner of his mind wondered if he had made a mistake. But as he looked down and saw the sweat-soaked expanse of her bosom rise and fall with each panting breath Rand could not find it within him to care. At last he collapsed, his head seeking out that bosom almost of its own accord. He curled up, still on top of her and savoured a moment of pure bliss. Berelain wrapped her arms around the Dragon Reborn and brushed his wet hair back from his face. He could hear her heart beat, her breath. Feel them too.

Minutes passed. The silence took on an awkward quality. Rand had never been a great speaker, and found himself at a loss for words. At last, good manners drove him to climb off the Lady First and sit up. His limp and sticky penis rested on his thigh as her regarded Berelain almost sheepishly.

"So, that’s how they do things in Mayene then?"

Berelain arched an eyebrow and rose up on one elbow, breasts swaying distractingly. "Not everyone, no..."

"Of course", Rand agreed hastily. "I can't imagine there are any other women like you. If there were how would the men get any work done?" She looked slightly confused by that.

Rand decided to leave the witty banter to Mat and resorted to honest truth. "That was incredible Berelain. Can I call you Berelain?"

"Of course, lover", she responded coyly. "You already did, after all."

"Did I?"

"Yes...", she trailed a hand down her soft stomach to brush the hairs of her pussy. He saw how matted they were with their mingled juices and his heart, only recently slowed began to speed up again.

"Well, as incredible as you are my lady I can't help but feel I've given the Two Rivers a bad name...", Rand began.

"There you would be grievously mistaken, my Lord Dragon. Grievously mistaken," Berelain interrupted, her eyes shining and lips curving into a fond smile.

Rand smiled back and continued more confidently, "...but the night, as they say, is young. And so are we."

Raising her brows, the First reached out with a hand already sticky with she and Rand's mingled fluids and ran her fingers lightly along the length of his sticky manhood. When she felt him respond she grinned eagerly, "We are indeed", she purred, "...such a nice change." The lovers rose up onto their knees and reached out for each other, eyes bright, hair tousled and sweaty, skin flushed, sex eager. It seemed like a dream to Rand and he was sure that like all dreams it would not last. But even he was surprised when he heard a rooster crow. Morning?, he thought confusedly. But how, and what’s a rooster doing in the Stone of Tear?

To Rand’s surprise, Berelain suddenly stared past him, eyes as big as teacups. Her mouth dropped open, and her slim throat corded with a scream that would not come. He spun on his knees, the yellow-red sword flashing back into his hands.

Across the room, one of the stand-mirrors threw his reflection back at him, a tall young man with reddish hair and grey eyes, naked and aroused and holding a heron-marked sword carved from fire. The reflection stepped out onto the carpet, raising its own sword. I have gone mad, he thought, No! She saw it. It’s real!

Rand fed his fear, his confusion, his disappointment and his nakedness to the Flame and felt the Void fill him. Grimly, the Dragon Reborn advanced to meet his greatest enemy.

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