Illustration to fanstory on the Wheel Of Time fandom: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/104915.....in-s-Lost-Days
Made as gift for my friend.


The noise of the crowd cut off sharply as Logain's cage rolled through the palace gates. The procession drew up in a courtyard and stopped. After a few moments, one of the warders produced a key and unlocked the cage. Logain stepped out and was immediately ringed by warders on the inside, and Aes Sedai on the outside. An escort? How considerate of them! Finally, before they entered the palace, one of the warders produced a pair of manacles for Logain's wrists. There would be nothing left to chance when Logain was brought before the queen.

Logain had seen Caemlyn in his travels, but never before had he been inside the Royal Palace of Andor. The halls were hewn from white marble, and great columns stood sentry at the side of the halls. Ogier stonework no doubt; Logain had seen its like in Cairhien. Red liveried servants scurried out of the way and hid behind the pillars as the procession made its way through the palace. Some of the meeker ones even managed to slip beneath the hanging tapestries on the wall. Logain chuckled to himself. Make way for the Dragon Reborn!

Finally, Logain and his "retinue" emerged into what was almost certainly the great hall. Massive, two-story double doors opened upon a vast chamber. Two rows of white stone columns stood on either side of the tiled walkway that lead to a raised dais. At the top of the dais was the Lion Throne of Andor, flanked by giant hanging tapestries depicting the white lion of Andor on a field of red. A woman sat knitting beside the throne; Logain recognized the ageless face of an Aes Sedai. Perfect, another blasted witch. And atop the Lion Throne sat Morgase, Queen of Andor. She was shorter than he expected.

Halfway through the great hall, Logain's escort halted. Of course they wouldn't allow such a dangerous man so close to the Queen of Andor. One of his escort stepped forward; a stocky man of medium height with streaks of gray in his black hair. This one was definitely not a warder. "Captain-General Gareth Bryne" he announced, "with the White Tower embassy and the false dragon under guard."

"So this is the unbeliever," Morgase said in a haughty voice.

Unbeliever? Logain had been called many vile things. Madman. Darkfriend. False Dragon. But unbeliever, that was one he hadn't heard before.

"I am Logain," he began, "Scion of the noble house of Abl-"

"I know who you are," Morgase cut him off.

"How convenient," Logain smiled, forcing down his indignation at being interrupted, "Then we may dispense with introductions."

Captain-General Bryne turned to address Logain, "You stand in the presence of Mor-"

"I know to whom I speak," Logain silenced the man without looking in his direction. His eyes were fixed on Morgase. "Now then Morgase," he continued, "You may kneel and swear loyalty to me."

Logain could feel the air leave the great hall as he spoke. How could a man who had been defeated possibly demand that a queen kneel and swear to him? Several palace servants squeaked with fear, and all of the guards and warders drew their swords. Even the red sisters surrounding him raised their eyebrows; if they were not Aes Sedai, Logain suspected they would have screamed in terror. Morgase twitched slightly but gave no other sign.

Logain smirked and held his ground, "That was why you sent for me, was it not? I can think of no other reason to summon me so urgently from my activities in the south." Logain glanced to his side at the red sisters, brimming with smugness. "I was even honored with an escort, and by carriage no less! Such courtesy!"

"You've had your little jest, Logain," Morgase huffed, "But now you are defeated. Your armies are scattered, your proclamation as the Dragon Reborn is come to naught, and word from Ghealdan is that you have been stripped of your title and estate. What have you to say for yourself now?"

Logain stiffened his back. That last insult was particularly galling, but still he kept his dignity. "A truly great man," Logain looked Morgase square in the eyes as he spoke, "needs no titles to proclaim his greatness. It is the mark of lesser nobility to heap honors and vainglories upon oneself to mask ones own inadequacy." Logain's unflinching glare made it all too clear whom he meant by lesser nobility.

Logain relished the smoldering look of fury that crept up the sides of Morgase's face. The rumors about Morgase's temper had been true so it seemed, "You try my patience," she said through gritted teeth.

"Do not think for a second that I am fooled by your supercilious pretense," Logain pressed his attack further, "These airs you put on might bedazzle some unlearned country shepherd boy, but you and I both know better than to take your condescending self-possession for anything resembling true nobility. You clothe yourself in robes of borrowed honor and think yourself a queen."

"How dare you speak to me in so rude a manner!" Morgase exploded off her throne, "I am Queen of Andor, and you shall-"

"You are a puppet dancing on Tar Valon strings," Logain grinned as his accusation stopped Morgase's rage in its tracks, "I know your story, Morgase Trakand. They say you were only admitted to the White Tower because of your royal connections, despite barely being able to channel at all. It must gall you to be forced to rely upon," he glanced at his escort of warders and Aes Sedai, "imported labor."

The atmosphere had completely changed in the great hall; Logain was in control now. He smiled maliciously, sensing his advantage. Time to move in for the kill, "And you expect me to walk small in your presence?!" He summoned up all the force that his lungs could yield, "I am Logain Ablar! Lightning falls from the sky when I call and strikes where I point! I command the wind and rain to drown my foes where they stand! I rend the earth with unseen hands, and draw fires from stone! I will never kneel before anyone, least of all to you!"

The silence that followed Logain's defiant proclamation was the loudest he had ever heard in his life.

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