Running blindly through the downpour, lightning and thunder battering his senses like hammers on an anvil, Daynir tried to get away. Between the earsplitting cracks, he could hear the howling of dogs as they led their masters on his trail. The only reason he wasn’t dead already was this storm that had come out of nowhere. Daynir could channel. He knew that now. He’d fought the idea for years. Not that finally accepting it gave him any more control. This same storm that covered his tracks had caused his horse to fall and break its neck and nearly his. The same Power that had saved his sister’s life three years before had started the fire that consumed his whole family and half the manor house. Even know, when he tried to reach out for it, against everything he had ever known, it slipped through his fingers like the rain went through his clothes. Shoving off of the ancient trunk of an olive tree, Daynir staggered on, the calls of the hounds noticeably closer behind him. Maybe if he reached the Mirk, he’d have a chance.

If he’d gotten married:

“Are you feeling faint, my love?” Carme, put a delicate hand to his forehead as Daynir slumped in his saddle. He appeared much older than his thirty years could account for. Thinner, weaker, his left arm almost useless. He had not always been this way. In his youth he had been strong enough to be a blacksmith if he’d been born a commoner. But, soon after their wedding, Daynir had been often bedridden, crippled by headaches and gripped by rages so unlike his usual level temperament.

“I am well,” Daynir cupped her hand and kissed it. If she knew half of his pains, she would never let him leave the house. “Only a little tired.” Whenever he slept, he was haunted by nightmares, keeping him awake until dawn. Even with his sickness and foul swings in mood, the years had been good to the young couple. The land Carme’s lord father had given them was small, but prosperous, and they had grown to love each other deeply.

If he left the Black Tower as a Dedicated to rescued his sister(which may still happen ;) ):

“Daynir!” Rinalia screamed as she clung to her horses neck. Balls of fire shattered against hastily spun shields.

“Hold on, Rin!” Daynir launched his own fire behind them blindly. The Asha’man had found them. He did not know how. Daynir had been so careful. Rarely channeling and then only in tiny amounts. They’d never stayed in one place for more than a few days. True, it wasn’t much of a life for a young girl, but better than the one he’d taken her away from; locked in a room, terrorized by their own brother. A near miss by a lightning strike caused Rin horse to lunge away, ripping the reins from his hand. Daynir tried to turn his own horse to follow, but in the distraction, he had let go of his shield.

Fire engulfed him. His own scream mixed with that of his horse as they collapsed. Pinned under the horse, the pain of his broken body was nothing to that of his burnt skin. He could barely see, everything looked as though in a heavy fog. [i]Rin.[/I] Daynir tried to move, his charred skin tearing open in bloody cracks. The Void and the Power were impossible to reach in the pain. Two men in black coats, that was all he could distinguish, but he knew they were Asha’man, stood over him. “Rin.” he groaned.

“The girl? Is that why you deserted? We don’t care about her, we just want your head.” She would live then. Blackness.

If he’d been born a commoner:

Wiping sweat from his brow, Daynir hung his leather blacksmiths vest on the hook. The sun was just now settling on the horizon. Master Bernal was finishing up an ornamental piece for Lord Talavera, while Daynir had been working all day on a set of knives for the village butcher. Maybe Master Bernal, would let him come along tomorrow when he delivered the ornate candelabra to the manor. Daynir had always dreamed of what it would be like to be a lord. To be able to ride around on one of those fine horses he watches get shoed, instead of just watching. He’s always being told that an apprentice has no business around those horses. That, and to stop daydreaming. Putting a hand to his head, he tried to shrug off the throbbing headache he’d had all day. It had nearly caused him to ruin one of the knives. One more mistake, and Master Bernal would no doubt send him off, and find a new apprentice.

The way home took him by the Alvar house, the thatch remaining was blackened. Jome had died in that fire two days ago, no one knew what started it. Daynir felt guilty that he felt a little happy that he was dead. Now Renine would stop mooning over Jome. One day Daynir would be the most famous blacksmith in all of Tear and Renine would marry him. Whistling to himself Daynir walked on.

If he’d declared himself the Dragon Reborn:

Daynir stared disconsolately at the rough wood planks of the cart. He swayed in the chains binding his wrists and ankles. How far he had fallen. The Aes Sedai that rode all around him looked neither right nor left as the cheers and jeers of the crowds lining the streets washed over them. A rock cleared the bars of his cage and knocked him in his head. Leering about him, the whole city of Tear looked back. From alleyways, windows, rooftops, even the top of the Stone for all he knew.

The Stone. If only he had been able to take it, the Aes Sedai would be bowing to him instead of taking him to be gentled. For months his army had harrowed the country of Tear, growing every day, smashing everyone who came against it. When he could control it, the Power ripped the enemy to shreds before they even came close to his lines. When he could not, Daynir still came out victorious, as though the Pattern willed it.

He had been so sure, even when the High Lords came against him finally, that he was the Dragon Reborn, destined to unite the nations and defeat the Dark One. But the Power might as well have not existed for all he could grasp it, and before he’d known it, his army was in retreat and thirteen Aes Sedai were around him. Try as he did, instead of being just water through a sieve, there was a brick wall between him and the Power.

Snarling at the Aes Sedai and crowd alike, he wrestled against his bonds, screaming that he was the Dragon Reborn.