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All characters and individual material is © Jasmine Becker 2011. All rights Reserved.
The Wheel of time Setting and books are ©1990 by Robert Jordan. The phrases "The Wheel of time" and "The Dragon Reborn" and the snakewheel symbol are trademarks of Robert Jordan. All rights reserved. Books published by Tor Books, a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates LLC.
This is fan fiction only. This work may not be reproduced for commercial, marketing republishing or copying purposes. The work is sexual in nature and may not be to everyone's individual taste. Please do not continue reading unless 18 years or older.
Men of Shienar, Women of Arad Doman
Metic yawned wide enough to put an entire fist in his mouth. It was a
truly
early morning. The halls of the keep of Fal Moran, the capital of Shienar, were quiet. There was the occasional servant tending to the halls, doing this and that -- sweeping, dusting, cleaning -- but most moved with the same tiredness he felt.
He was beginning to grow old. A few years ago, he wouldn't have noticed not sleeping for a few days. Now, it ate at his bones and made his eyelids heavy. He was approaching his twenty-fifth name day -- what most southlanders would call thirty-five years old -- and sometimes he felt the bone-weariness that older men complained about.
The window shutters were still tightly shut, preventing chilly midwinter air from the outside to penetrate inside the fortress. Not only the few visiting southlanders would flee to their rooms then. Winter in the Borderlands -- the northernmost part of the world before the great Corrupted blight -- was beyond harsh. At times, tree could explode during the winter due to sap freezing and anyone who ventured outside without adequate supplies and warmth could find himself losing a finger, toe, hand, foot or possibly more. Then there were those who simply froze to death.
Still, the keep of Fal Dara was comparatively warm. Massive furnaces in the cellar kept the heat up during the winter and provided warmth to the great bath halls -- of which there were two. He was headed to the least used of these at this moment.
Such great baths were a luxury. They were a marvel of engineering he had never truly understood. Visitors had told him that in the rest of the world, people bathed in wooden or Copper tubs and knew nothing else. That, or a stream, river or the ocean. Only the borderlands had these great bath-halls.
One did not need to understand something in order to enjoy it however. Carrying a thick wrapping towel for drying and otherwise clad in iron-studded leather armour, he walked downstairs quickly. Apart from the armour -- which was like paper compared to the plate-and-mail he usually bore -- he also had a sword strapped to the belt.
No one went unarmed in the Borderlands. The dangers of monstrous Trollocs, Myrdraal and other shadow-spawned servants of the Dark One were far too great. Even women -- well, most of the ones he knew, anyway -- bore knives, daggers or even swords. Even those who didn't knew rudimentary fighting with hands or anything that was close for grasping as a weapon.
When he was young, he had marvelled at the stupidity of southlanders who allowed their women to go untrained this way. More so, how could the
women
not want to be prepared? That was before he had fully understood the lack of danger to the southlands thanks to the vigil of the northern lands -- such as Shienar.
He opened the thick, wooden door that lead to the bathing chamber. It was a large, rectangular chamber set with plain, white ceramic tiles. The room was filled with steam, making it hard to see, but it was blessedly warm. He disrobed quickly to avoid wrinkling the leather and stored his garments and belongings in one of the many wooden chests placed along the walls.
Humming
Last stand at Airen's valley
, he walked to the edge of the quadratic pool and tested the water with one toe. He saw a pile of clothes laying next to the basin of water and frowned. Who'd be stupid enough to leave clothes out like that?
He saw a shape, unclear by the mist but thought not more of it.
The baths were open to all, commoners and noble both. In a Shienaran bath, you were as likely as not to find yourself washing at the same time as the Lord's wife as a scullery maid or a groom.
The water was pleasantly hot.
He stepped down, relaxing and sighing as he allowed the blessedly warm water to envelop him. At first, he dove, submerging in the pool entirely. Metic stretched, settling against one of the edges of the pool. He noted the figure he had seen before close by.
It was a woman. He could see her more clearly now -- a bronzed hue and a slightly slimmed, oval face with long, black hair. The visitor was clearly not Shienaran. Had he guessed, he would have ventured that she was from Arad Doman, one of the exotic countries along the Aryth Ocean.
Courageous.
Most strangers and visitors didn't have the courage to even get
close
to a bathroom once they learned that Shienarans did not share their odd aversion and shame regarding nudity. It was good to meet those who took customs as they were meant to, adopting those necessary where they visited.
Good morning, lady. A pleasant day, isn't it?"
His voice was gruff and somewhat deep -- that of a soldier used to bellowing orders to conscripts and trainees, but he could make it pleasant. Well, less grim anyhow.
That was when he noticed that she
had
noted his arrival. Her eyes were as round as teacups and her arms trembled. She seemed to be pushing against the basin's back wall.
"Milady? Something wrong?" He inquired with concern. Surely this couldn't be her reaction to finding another visitor to the baths, not when she knew exactly what customs were in place in Shienar.
He was wrong however.
"Don't look! Burn you, have you no shame?!
Don't you bloody dare look, man!" She half-screeched, half-yelled, her face scarlet with mortification.
He looked away quickly, obeying, but couldn't stop the amused smile that spread across his lips. How ironic. Domani women were practically infamous for wearing garments that molded itself to the body like a second skin but they were as scandalized as any Tairen maiden when even the
notion
of being completely exposed in front of a strange man.
"Milady, you should know we have different...customs here in Shienar.." She didn't answer. "Pardon me for saying so, but if you didn't want to be disturbed, you should have bathed in your room. In a private tub. I'm sure the servants would have brought it, had you asked."
"Be quiet! Quiet, curse you!" She huffed.
From the corner of his eye, he could see her scramble out of the tub, climbing without the help of the staircase a small distance away.
There were muffled mumbles as she obviously dressed, pulling on her shift.
"Alright." Came her now pleasantly lyrical voice after a moment. "You can look now. If you want"
He slowly raised his gaze to see her standing wrapped in a massive, fluffy towel. She had covered chest, stomach and down to her knees with the thing as well as pulling it up to her shoulders. It gave her the appearance of a white, black-haired larvae.
He felt the corner of his mouth twitch and bit down to keep from laughing
