A/N: Woot. THE LAST CHAPTER. DUH, DUH, DUH, DUH. Review, por un favor?

Mat's dire prediction that all the women were going mad was proved only a couple days later, when he was approached by Elayne and Nynaeve, both looking very angry, with a stern Aviendha peering over their shoulders. They balked at the entrance to his room, and she gave them a gentle push forward. Gentle, but still very insistent.

Mat saw all this through very bleary eyes, as he had an enormous hangover at the time, and was therefore wallowing in misery on his bed, hat pulled over his eyes so he could see very little. "Close the door," he muttered blearily. The inn was well lit, unfortunately, and right now it seemed that light was the worst sort of torture that he could imagine. Nynaeve scowled disapprovingly at him – drunkenness and laziness were only two of the things she couldn't tolerate in a man, and quite possibly the worst flaws. She muttered something that he thought contained the words, "city," "addled his brains," and "blatant corruption." Mat couldn't help laughing harshly, then regretted it, punctuating it with a small moan. Now Nynaeve simply looked satisfied as Aviendha closed the door quietly.

She opened her mouth to say something along the lines of "I told you so," but Elayne nudged her – actually, it was more a shove and less of a nudge – and Nynaeve cleared her throat and changed what she had been about to say. "I…could…Heal you…if you want." The words were forced out of her, clearly. Mat shook his head.

"No, thanks," he said, as politely as he could manage in his current state of misery. "So if you're here to gloat, you might as well leave now. I am not in a very sociable mood this morning."

Elayne laughed suddenly. Nynaeve and Aviendha looked at her, and she flushed a bright red while pretending to ignore them. "Well, actually…" she said, rather hesitantly. "We came because…we wanted to…apologize."

Mat stared at them. They were going mental! They really should get moving on finding this Bowl of Winds, before they turned into a bunch of meek, mild mannered ladies. Not that that would be so bad, actually. It was just that he couldn't imagine Nynaeve very well with her hands folded delicately in her lap. He had to stifle a laugh.

"For our…behavior…at the Stone of Tear. You…rescued us…and we did not show proper gratitude…for your…help." Elayne continued. "And thank you…belatedly…for your aid on this…expedition."

Nynaeve looked as though she had swallowed a large prune. A very overripe prune. Mat was just short of gaping at Elayne. He had never expected to hear the words of an apology, however forced, from Elayne. Of all people, Elayne least of all. Except maybe Nynaeve. "Oh." He said, rather at a loss. "Well. You're welcome, I guess. It was nothing, really."

To his surprise, Elayne simply looked very annoyed. She opened her mouth, and closed it again. Had he said something wrong? Now he was just confused. After a couple moments of silence, Elayne turned to Nynaeve and gave her a fierce glare. Mat was glad he was not the recipient of that stare. Nynaeve looked at the floor and muttered something that contained the words "won't," "apologize," and "arrogant." Only a moment later, she let out a small yelp and jumped, rubbing her bottom and glaring right back at a stolid, angry Elayne. They stared at each other, bristling like a pair of strange cats. Mat felt thoroughly ignored. "Look," he stared to say. "Can you take this outside? I'm trying to sleep," but Nynaeve looked down and scuffed the floor, suddenly looking ashamed.

"I'm sorry too," she muttered grudgingly. "For my…behavior."

Mat looked from one to the other. Their faces were so serious, and the idea of this encounter so ridiculous, that he simply had to laugh. However, when he did so, the three women shot him such glares as if he had goosed each and every one of them. Women. Birgitte, Nynaeve, Elayne…none of them made any sense.

"That is not all," Elayne added, her voice suddenly very cold as she gazed sternly at him, as if he were an ignorant and foolish little boy. "We have decided to promise that we will not leave the Palace without your knowledge, that we will listen to your…suggestions…and follow them as appropriate, and…" she sighed, "allow you to appoint us an escort of suitable size." Nynaeve fidgeted nonstop as Elayne was speaking, and Mat got the impression that Elayne might be proposing this compromise without have checked with Nynaeve first.

"Not that this means you may give us orders. We are not yours to command," Nynaeve added sharply, with a frigid glance at Elayne.

A jolt of mischief prompted Mat to smile slightly and ask the pair of irritated women before him, "Well, what about you, Nynaeve? I haven't heard any promises from you."

Nynaeve looked as though she would turn purple. The foxhead on his chest went cold for a moment, then returned to normal temperature. She only looked more annoyed at having forgotten his protection. Mat decided not to test his boundaries even further. She might not be able to hit him directly, but the water pitcher was heavy enough to create considerable damage. Besides, Aviendha, whom had previously looked pleased, was glaring at him with equal force as the other two.

"Right then," he said. "So you'll let me know before you leave the palace? And listen when I offer ideas?" There was a moment's hesitation, then both women nodded. Aviendha looked approving again. "And an escort. I suggest…six of my men, close to you when you leave the palace?"

Nynaeve spluttered. "Six? One at most!"

"Three," Mat haggled, and after a moment and a nudge from Elayne, Nynaeve nodded. Grudgingly. "Not including me, of course," Mat added. It was worth it, just to see the look of surprise on all three women's faces. He almost laughed, but he suspected that the experience of spending his time with these three women would not be pleasant.

"Good, then," he said. "Now, will you please get out of my room? I have a terrible headache, and I need some sleep." The women left with a few final mutters out of Nynaeve, and Mat relaxed again. Very strange, he decided. Yes, most definitely. I never thought I'd see the day where the two haughtiest women I know lower themselves to apologize to me.

"Feeling well, Master Cauthon?" purred a voice from the doorway that had just been vacated. Mat moaned slightly. Whether it was Tylin, or Birgitte, he needed to get out of Altara, no matter what the dubious blessings of its affects on the women were. There were far too many negatives for his taste.

Birgitte sat down on the edge of his bed and leered at him. He flinched away from the hand she laid on his forehead. "Aw, is wickle Mattie feeling okay?" she said, grinning at his pained grimace.

"Get out," he muttered. "Just…leave."

She put on an affronted expression. "What? Will you just drive me away without even a hello? I am so dearly fond of you."

"How is it that you managed to make all this out of one stupid night?" he grumbled.

Her smile vanished. "Mat, I insist that you not persist in this silly notion that I am somehow making too much out of one night. I don't think I am being unreasonable at all."

"I was drunk, for Light's sake!" he protested, and winced. "Please don't make me shout," he pleaded. "My head hurts like anything. I'm not up for this right now."

"If I decide you are up to it, you are," Birgitte said firmly. "And I think that we need to talk. Now," she added as Mat opened his mouth to protest. "I was drunk as well, but you don't hear me complaining, do you? I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I'd have to be blind as you are not to see what's right in front of my nose, you stubborn, block-headed fool."

Mat blinked at her. "What do you mean?" he asked stupidly.

She sighed. "Mat, you can be awfully thick-headed at times. Let me spell it out for you. I love you. There, is that simple enough for you?"

His mouth dropped open and he stared at her, scrambling for words. "You can't be serious!" he explained, half hoping that she would laugh and say it was all a joke, half dreading it.

Birgitte scowled at him. "Don't be stupid. Let me show you just how serious I am about this." She pulled him over off the bed, pinioned his arms to his sides, and kissed him fiercely as she unbuttoned his shirt with one free hand. "You Light burned idiot," she breathed. "I can't believe it took you so long to notice."

Mat was feebly trying to push the persistent Birgitte away as she undressed him as easily as if he had been no more than a paper doll. When she finished with him, she pushed him back onto the bed and held him down with her knee on his chest as she pulled off her shirt. "Sometimes…you have to spell things out for me," he gasped under the weight of Birgitte's leg. He was unable to take his eyes off of her, and didn't even notice that he had stopped pretending to struggle.

She cast off the last of her garments and pulled him up into another fierce kiss. "Of course," she breathed. "You're a man. Simple concepts are difficult for you. You understand physicality much better."

He pretty much lost track of things after that.

Later, he lay on his back on the bed, staring moodily up at the ceiling and thinking. Somehow, he couldn't manage to summon any regrets about his actions. In fact, he felt positively delirious with – relief? Happiness? It was difficult to say, but it was a pleasant feeling.

What about the Daughter of the Nine Moons? A small part of him asked. The one you're supposed to marry?

"Oh, Light burn the Aelfinn and their Light burned prophecies," he muttered. "I'll do what I want to."

Birgitte rolled over next to him, putting a protective arm around his chest. "What was that, dear?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing, dear," he whispered as he kissed the hollow of her neck. "Nothing at all."