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It was a subtle thing at first. So subtle, in fact, that no one noticed until long after the pattern had begun to form.
They had all grown accustomed to Lan Mandragoran’s practicality—his steady presence, his unyielding sense of duty. His armor was always simple, functional. Leather worn from years of use, a dull gray cloak that allowed him to blend into the background, and boots that had seen more miles than any one man should endure. Everything about Lan spoke of discipline and minimalism.
Moiraine Damodred, on the other hand, had an elegance to her that was impossible to ignore. As Aes Sedai, she was a commanding figure, with gowns that flowed with every step she took, regal and authoritative. The blues she often wore, reflecting her Ajah, gave her an air of calm certainty. It wasn’t just the One Power that gave her presence weight—it was her poise, her grace.
No one thought much of their outward appearances as a pair. Lan was the stoic protector, and Moiraine the enigmatic leader. It had always been that way, for as long as anyone could remember. Their connection was unquestionable, even if rarely spoken of openly. He was her Warder, bound by duty and an unshakable bond, and she was his Aes Sedai. It was simple. That was the narrative the world saw.
But Rand al’Thor had begun to notice something—something he hadn’t been able to place at first.
It happened one evening as they gathered in the common room of a modest inn. They were on the road again, taking a rare moment of rest, and the fire crackled softly in the hearth as they sat in silence. Rand had been looking between his companions, studying them in the way he often did these days, learning what he could from the people around him. His mind was always turning now, always trying to piece together fragments of prophecy, fate, and the web that seemed to entangle them all.
Moiraine sat by the window, her deep blue cloak draped around her like a second skin. The dark fabric caught the light in such a way that it shimmered faintly, its intricate silver trim glinting in the dim glow of the firelight. Lan was beside her, standing guard as usual, his eyes scanning the room with that ever-watchful gaze. His cloak, darker in shade, almost black, had caught Rand’s attention for a different reason.
It matched Moiraine’s.
Not entirely, of course. Lan was practical—he had no need for delicate silver embroidery or the finer weaves of Aes Sedai robes. But the deep hue of his cloak, nearly identical to the midnight blue of Moiraine’s, was close enough that Rand’s eyes kept darting between them, trying to figure out if it was intentional or not.
The thought nagged at him through the evening. He knew Lan had no time for frivolities, and Moiraine never made decisions lightly. And yet, there was something about the matching colors that didn’t seem coincidental.
Still, Rand said nothing. He wasn’t sure why it mattered to him. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just one of those strange, small details that lingered in his mind as they continued their journey toward a future none of them could truly foresee.
Days passed, and the moment was forgotten—by Rand, at least. But others began to notice similar oddities, though no one spoke of it aloud.
Perrin Aybara had always been observant in his own quiet way. Where others might overlook details, Perrin’s sharp senses caught onto things most people missed. It was during an early morning in the woods, as they prepared to break camp, that he noticed the faint similarities between the attire of the Warder and Aes Sedai.
Moiraine stood near the edge of the campsite, speaking softly to Egwene. The morning mist clung to the ground, swirling at their feet. Her cloak today was a lighter blue—softer, gentler—but the stitching along the edges was unmistakable. Silver threads, woven into the fabric with careful precision. Perrin had always admired craftsmanship, and Moiraine’s cloak was no exception. It spoke of skill, of the care put into its creation.
Lan was by the fire, rolling up his bedroll. His traveling clothes were simple as always, but his tunic, Perrin realized, was a dark, muted blue. Not quite the same shade as Moiraine’s cloak, but close enough. The two of them—standing on opposite ends of the camp—seemed to mirror each other in some unspoken way.
Perrin frowned, his brow furrowing slightly as he glanced between them. Had they always dressed like this? Or was it something that had developed over time?
He didn’t dwell on it long. Lan wasn’t the type to bother with anything that didn’t serve a practical purpose, and Moiraine was too focused on the task at hand to concern herself with appearances. Still, it gnawed at him, a quiet curiosity that he pushed aside as the day wore on.
Mat Cauthon, for his part, noticed it much later—though in true Mat fashion, it wasn’t the subtlety that caught his attention.
It was during a particularly tense meeting in a small, forgotten village. They were trying to stay unnoticed, avoiding attention as they passed through, and Moiraine had dressed in more modest attire, her finer clothes tucked away for the time being. She wore a plain blue dress, simple but elegant, with none of the usual embellishments that marked her as Aes Sedai.
Lan, standing behind her, had donned a dark blue vest over his usual leather armor. The cut of it was plain, nothing out of the ordinary. But Mat, always quick with an observation or a joke, couldn’t help but smirk as the two of them stood side by side.
"Matching outfits now, are we?" he muttered under his breath, though loud enough for Perrin and Rand to hear.
Perrin gave him a sharp look, but Rand’s mouth twitched in a half-smile. Mat, emboldened by the lack of immediate reprimand, leaned over to Perrin and whispered, "What’s next, matching belts? Maybe a nice coordinated hat?"
Perrin ignored him, but the thought had taken root in Mat’s mind. He didn’t truly believe they were coordinating outfits—Lan and Moiraine weren’t the type for that sort of thing. Still, he found himself glancing between them now and then, half-expecting to see more matching pieces. It became something of a game to him, a distraction from the ever-growing weight of their journey.
The truth of it all came to light in a quiet moment, long after the others had noticed, but never dared ask.
It was Egwene who found herself pondering the connection between Moiraine and Lan most deeply. The bond between Aes Sedai and Warder was something she was only beginning to understand, something that felt both distant and deeply personal. And yet, there was something more to the way they moved together, the way they spoke without words.
It was on a clear, starry night, after a long day’s travel, that Egwene finally asked the question that had been on her mind for some time. They were alone for once, just her and Moiraine sitting by the fire. Lan had gone to check the perimeter, leaving the two of them in a rare moment of quiet.
"Do you and Lan always… match?" Egwene’s voice was hesitant, unsure how to broach the subject delicately.
Moiraine raised an eyebrow, her expression one of mild surprise. "Match?"
"Your clothes," Egwene clarified. "I’ve noticed, sometimes… you wear similar colors. Not always, but enough that it’s noticeable."
Moiraine looked down at her own cloak, then glanced at the discarded vest Lan had left near the fire. For a moment, she seemed to consider the question, her expression softening as she pieced together the pattern Egwene had noticed.
"It wasn’t intentional at first," Moiraine said after a pause, her voice thoughtful. "But over time… it became a habit. A silent understanding."
Egwene blinked, waiting for her to elaborate.
Moiraine smiled faintly, her fingers brushing over the silver embroidery on her cloak. "There is a bond between Warder and Aes Sedai that goes beyond mere words. We are connected in ways most people cannot see. The matching colors… perhaps it’s a reflection of that connection. Or perhaps it is simply that we have spent so much time together that our choices have become aligned."
Egwene nodded slowly, understanding dawning on her. It wasn’t about fashion or appearances—it was about the deep, unspoken bond they shared. A bond that went far beyond the surface of things, beyond what anyone else could truly understand.
Lan returned moments later, his cloak billowing behind him as he took his place beside Moiraine. Egwene watched them quietly, noting the way they sat side by side, their postures relaxed but perfectly in tune. The firelight flickered between them, casting long shadows, and for a moment, Egwene found herself captivated by the quiet connection they shared.
Lan didn’t speak, but he glanced briefly at Moiraine, their eyes meeting for the barest second before he settled into place. That single glance, small and almost imperceptible, seemed to carry a weight of understanding that words could never capture. It was something deeper than the bond, something that transcended the formalities of Aes Sedai and Warder. It was... personal.
Egwene’s curiosity flared. "So, it’s… deliberate now?" she asked cautiously, her voice soft but curious.
Lan raised an eyebrow at the question, though his face remained unreadable. "What is deliberate?"
"The matching colors in your clothes," Egwene explained, gesturing lightly toward them. "I thought it was a coincidence at first, but… Moiraine said it became a habit."
For a brief moment, Lan said nothing, his stoic mask firmly in place. Then, something softened in his expression. A flicker of amusement, perhaps, or maybe something more intimate, though it was so subtle that Egwene wasn’t sure if she had imagined it.
"We’ve traveled together for many years," he said finally, his voice low and even. "When you spend enough time with someone, certain habits form. This was one of them."
Moiraine’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles, and Egwene could almost see the unspoken exchange passing between them. It wasn’t something they had consciously decided—at least, not at first—but it was clear that the small, shared detail in their appearance had become a quiet signal of their bond.
Lan continued, his tone steady as ever, though with a warmth that Egwene had never quite heard from him before. "It’s more than just matching colors. It’s a way of moving together, understanding each other without words. The color is… a reflection of that. A reminder."
Moiraine inclined her head slightly, acknowledging his words, her expression serene but with an underlying fondness that Egwene had rarely seen in her mentor. "A way of showing that, even when the world sees us as separate, we are always tied together."
Egwene absorbed the words, feeling a strange sense of awe at the depth of the connection they had. It wasn’t about outward appearances at all. The matching colors were merely a symptom of something far more profound—a bond that transcended duty, woven into the very fabric of their lives.
In that moment, Egwene understood just how much Lan and Moiraine meant to each other. It went beyond the bond of Warder and Aes Sedai. It was something intimate, personal. Even in their silence, they spoke volumes.
The next morning, as they prepared to leave the small village, Egwene found herself watching them more closely than usual. It was a small thing, really—barely noticeable unless one was paying attention. Lan’s tunic, deep blue like the sky before a storm, was just a shade darker than Moiraine’s riding cloak, which shimmered in a lighter, softer blue.
The colors were different, but they complemented each other perfectly. Side by side, they moved with a seamless grace, as if they had been made for each other.
Rand caught her eye, his gaze lingering on the pair. There was a silent question in his eyes, as if he, too, had noticed the quiet coordination between them.
Egwene offered him a small smile, understanding now what she hadn’t before. It wasn’t just about practicality or habit. It was a reflection of a deeper, unspoken truth: Lan and Moiraine were intertwined in ways that went far beyond the roles they played in the world. They were two halves of a whole, moving in tandem, always aware of the other’s presence.
As the group set off, Perrin and Mat exchanged a quiet glance, still not entirely sure what to make of the subtle matching colors. Mat, for once, refrained from making a joke, though Egwene could see him glancing at Lan’s cloak with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.
Perrin, ever the silent observer, seemed to have come to a quiet understanding of his own. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze softened as he watched the two of them spoke volumes.
It wasn’t until much later, when they had all parted ways and the world had shifted around them, that the true meaning of those small, matching details would come to light.
In a rare, quiet moment away from the chaos of their journey, Lan and Moiraine sat together, sharing a simple meal in the fading light of day. The world outside still spun with the weight of destiny, with the pressure of prophecies and the uncertain future ahead of them, but here—in this brief respite—there was only peace.
Moiraine glanced down at her cloak, the deep blue fabric pooling in her lap. She reached out, lightly brushing her fingers against Lan’s sleeve, the dark blue fabric catching the last of the daylight.
"I hadn’t realized how much we match," she mused quietly, her tone light.
Lan chuckled softly, the sound low and rare. "I suppose it happened without us noticing."
She tilted her head, watching him with that familiar, knowing look. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it was our way of acknowledging what we never said aloud."
Lan met her gaze, his eyes steady, unwavering. "It’s always been there, Moiraine. We didn’t need to say it."
She smiled then—soft, genuine, a rare break in her usual calm facade. "No, we didn’t. But I think, in our own way, we’ve been saying it all along."
Lan nodded, his hand coming to rest lightly on hers. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history, their unspoken bond, settling between them like a second skin.
The colors of their clothes—blue, always blue—weren’t just a coincidence. They were a testament to everything they had been through together. The battles fought side by side, the impossible choices made, the silent moments of understanding that needed no words.
Matching colors in their outfits wasn’t something they had planned. It had simply become a part of them, just as their connection had. Unspoken, but always present.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft glow over the land, Lan squeezed her hand lightly. "We match," he said softly, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "In more ways than one."
Moiraine’s eyes gleamed with quiet affection as she leaned into his side. "Yes, Lan. We always have."
And in the quiet of the evening, with the weight of the world far from their minds, they sat together, perfectly matched in every way that mattered.