Categories > Books > Wheel of Time > Defining Lives

Drifting From Me

by Cat_Alex 0 reviews

Asmodean goes through the events of his life that led him to the path of the dark. Explains why he had his mother dragged off by Myrddraal and includes an OC in the form of a sister. Three differen...

Category: Wheel of Time - Rating: G - Genres: Angst, Drama - Characters: Other - Published: 2006-06-17 - Updated: 2006-06-17 - 2200 words

Drifting From Me

I always knew my Mother and brother were different from me. Mother explained to me from a young age about Aes Sedai and channelling. Mother smiled at me, her brown eyes crinkling though her face was smooth as if she was the same age as the other children's mothers, but she was over three hundred years old. Plus, she already had a child aged twenty-five; my brother, Joar. He was kind and gentle, if awkward around me when I was a child. He was a famed composer since before I was born and Mother cherished him as the favourite, while she treated me with much love yet... still, she had a sparkle in the eyes both Joar and I shared with her when she spoke of what my big brother was doing. I was young though and didn't understand, and anyway I did not mind. I have many fond memories.

"Joar! I want a piggyback!" the small six year old commanded imperiously; her dark eyes that matched the older man's exactly gleamed. Her hands were placed on her hips, her face adamant and the man sighed before nodding.

She grinned and giggled, cheering as she hopped onto his back, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and he reluctantly tried to gallivant across the field a mile from his old house, where his mother and sister stayed.

"Thirty-one and she made to do this," he muttered as his sister dug her feet into his ribs, making him charge forward back to the house. Their mother lived on the edge of Shorelle, claiming she wanted to have the best of both worlds; a city to hand as well as stretches of countryside. So Eila could play, their mother had claimed. Joar did not want to play with Eila when he could be composing, or talking to people who mattered and could hold a decent conversation with him. But their mother had insisted that he get to know his sister, her voice lowering as she explained to him that she didn't think she had the spark. No spark, no long life as they had. Eila would turn out like their late father; dead at one hundred and eighty-three when Eila was barely two. A grim affair.

"Joar, faster!" the girl yelled near his ear and Joar cringed before running on. The brat could stay with their mother until she could hold a proper conversation, Joar thought with irritation. She wasn't his responsibility.

Everyone knew Joar's name, being the child musical prodigy, and from that I gained a little notoriety being 'the Nessosin girl'. I had little to no musical aptitude, but I was a pretty bright child and worked hard. As much as I loved my brother, I was desperate to escape being 'the Nessosin girl' and becoming just Eila Nessosin. Perhaps with a third name when I had got older. So I worked as hard as I could, getting top grades throughout, despite Mother not really taking notice of them. When Joar came by, he always picked a few up and gave me an encouraging smile, his head tipped to the side as if he was trying to work me out. I was just glad someone took notice of me. So I worked even harder, desperate to impress and becoming something in the world. As much as I loved Mother, she did not care for me as she did for Joar. It made me angry when I was a teenager, but I kept it to myself, instead working as hard as I could. I would make something of myself like my brother and escape her forever.

"Do you want a handkerchief?" Joar asked, his eyes filled with concern. Eila had burst into a bout of frustrated tears while talking to him from his house in Comelle. It was supposed to be a happy weekend visit before she continued her studies back home, not far from completion. A chance for the siblings to bond, according to their mother. Joar was not convinced by her speech, instinct telling him she just wanted Eila out of her hair for a few days. He did not mind. He was finding his creativity on a low ebb at the time anyway. His little sister would be a welcome break from the monotony of trying to find that perfect composition lurking in the back of his head. And then she had started crying angry tears while ranting to him about how their mother was ignoring her achievements. All Joar could do was put an arm around her slender shoulders and squeeze her arm reassuringly. He knew that Eila was finding Mother difficult, but there was nothing to be done. She knew that it wouldn't be long before she could find a place in society and get away. Joar had the feeling that Eila would shine in the world. Not as much as he, but he was an important composer and she seemed practically a child to him aged fifteen while he was forty, though he looked as youthful as ever. When he thought about it, he had been composing masterpieces at her age. Perhaps she was older than he took her for.

"I feel better," Eila said calmly, the rims of her eyes red and her pale face slightly blotchy. Joar stood and strolled over to the large area where he stored his myriad of instruments. Tilting his head onto his side, he peered at her for a moment before picking up the balfone and playing soothing tunes. Eila began to feel glad her brother took even a slight interest in her when he saw her. She knew that he had his own life to live and that he probably completely forgot about her when she wasn't around, but that was okay. She was used to being forgotten; their mother was a classic example. But at least Joar really made an effort.

"Thank you," she mumbled, feeling her face. She must look awful, she thought. Joar lightly shook his head and put the balfone away.

"Come on, Eila. There is an interesting show being performed in the town centre," he informed her and she nodded with a falsely bright smile, before following him out. She would show their mother what she could become.

Being a teenager had been painful, but I won through with the support of Joar and the tolerance of our mother. It was a proud day when I found a place in the Shorelle government and began forging a path to power. I was determined to find my own way through life and as much as I loved my mother, I had to get away from her. It was only a matter of a few months of hard work and correct decision making before I was transferred to a better job within the Tzora government. I was now around twenty-four and becoming happier alone. But everything else was falling apart. Mother was moving her interest from Joar to me. He was finding life hard, a creative block leaving him unable to find a tune. It had been going for years, his frustration becoming more apparent every time I saw him. Once I had my own job, it had become easier to see him in his beautiful house in Comelle. But he was growing more and more fraught until he began to reach breaking point.

"I cannot take it any longer!" Joar exclaimed, his eyes glittering with tears of frustration Eila knew well, as she had experienced them herself nine years ago. Frustration briefly changed to anger and with angry tears spilling over he picked up his prized harp their mother had paid to be expertly crafted from gold. But he faltered and put it down again, his eyes smouldering before he took hold of saidin and tore it apart with flows of Air. Eila watched with fascination as her brother wielded the One Power, now setting the pieces on fire as best as he could for metal, watching them melt with a smile twisted with distaste.

"Perhaps I should not have done that," he said shakily, taking a seat next to Eila and placing his face in his hands. She wasn't sure what to do, her brother being forty-nine but looking her age. Gingerly, she rubbed his back and after a few minutes he sat up and wiped his face.

"Eila, my fame is waning and with it, Mother's love. She only loves me because I was her special prodigy. And now... she doesn't care. You know what's she's like," Joar explained, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears as he addressed at her. Eila knew how much Joar depended on Mother's praise, praise she no longer wanted from the woman now she knew she had a respected job that brought honour from people who she wanted to be commended by.

"I know," Eila replied sadly. She knew only too well.

I progressed through the governments, gaining more power and more interest from Mother, though I did not want it. I tolerated her though and helped run V'Saine to the best of my ability. I took time as the years passed to visit Joar whenever I could. By now, he could compose again, but I remember them sounding bitter and darker than anything before, as if the Dark One was playing. But it was only my brother, even if he did speak to me about his growing hatred for our Mother. It wasn't undeserved either; she began ignoring Joar altogether, despite my protests to her. Whenever I had to speak to her on one of her impromptu visits, I would talk of how Joar was doing and how she had to visit him, but she would not speak of it. Her face became like stone and I had to eventually let it drop, to my annoyance.

As the years passed, Joar began to drift from my sight. I didn't see him for many years until I was awarded my third name when I was a hundred and six. It made me chuckle to think it had taken me so many decades to attain my third name when Joar had one in his twenties. I did not mind it had taken so long; it was more than worth it.

"So, now you are Eila Arina Nessosin," Joar said with a smile on his tired face as he made his way through the crowd. Eila turned around, her face alight with joy at the sound of his voice.

"Joar!" she said delightedly and threw her arms around him. Eila had not seen her brother in so long and was surprised at how worn he looked despite his youthful face. Joar was now one hundred and thirty-one and was dressed finely in blood red.

"I can't believe how far we have come," he said with a smile, "A hundred years ago I was running around like a fool in a field with a petulant young girl on my back. She had been quite annoying." The smile turned into a chuckle.

Eila laughed with him. She remembered that day, the second time she had ever seen her older brother.

"You were sulky that day," she recalled, "but don't worry, I won't demand a piggyback today."

Joar shook his head, the crowd of various members of the community - the important ones of course - drank and laughed and danced. All held in Eila's honour. His own performance would be held later in her honour. Joar felt a bitter tang, but he pushed it down. He was proud of his sister and focused his burning hatred on their mother.

My life was happy. I was content to live alone. I can say there were a few people in my life where we spent some happy times together, but ultimately I was alone and glad to have my life to command alone. I spoke to Joar as often as I could manage now I was head of the Paaran Disen government. I was so proud to lead Paaran Disen, but I kept my modesty and did not speak of my job with Joar. I tried to get him to come and visit me, but he was so reluctant I had to let it lie. I remember that once I mentioned to him that Mother would no longer speak of him and he was so upset, I dropped it. I couldn't understand how Mother could ignore her once favoured child and not love him for who he was. He may not have been the most famous composer in the world, but he was more than respected.

I did my best to ensure safety for the world, running the government to the best of my ability as I had always done. Time wore on and finally caught up with me. I was two hundred and thirteen when I died. It was of natural causes and peaceful. I could not have asked for more. With my death, I was left with hope. Hope that Joar would be alright, that Mother would see the error of her ways and that perhaps one day I would be spun out again by the Wheel of Time.
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