Friends
Summary: Sequel to "Alone". What was Jon thinking when he first met Thayet? J/T (Duh!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"To old friends, the best friends."
"So mote it be," replied Alanna.
"Hear, hear!" Was all that George managed before taking a mighty swig from his cup.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" a low female voice exclaimed.
Turning towards the door, Jon froze. His eyes widened slightly in awe. Had he ever seen anyone so beautiful?
His voice caught in his throat.
He felt like a squire again.
"Great Merciful Mother!" he whispered.
Her deep set, level hazel eyes were framed by even brows. Naturally red lips accented her ivory skin, as did her jet-black, somewhat tousled hair. Her jaw line revealed her as determined. If not for her strong nose, she would seem completely flawless. Jonathan had to refrain from pinching himself (as he clearly needed to stop daydreaming, he thought).
Clutching her dressing gown up to her chin Thayet said, "Faithful woke me up, and then I couldn't sleep."
Jon kept on staring, though he dimly tried to remember whether he'd seen the cat leave the room at all in the first place. From the corner of his eye, he caught Alanna trying to master her amusement. He didn't trouble himself to find out the cause – he didn't particularly care at that moment in time, though he would ponder it on a rainy day, years later.
Seeing as Alanna didn't move an inch in response to the new arrival, George stood and drew the princess into the room.
Jon's heart began to pound uncomfortably. He tried to disguise his feebleness as he stood up; though he wasn't sure quite how successful he was at doing so.
He took Thayet's hand and brought it to his lips. The whole time he chided himself – 'You act as though you've never seen a pretty lady before! Pull yourself together Prince Jonathan!'
Or King-to-be he supposed.
Jon raised his gaze and their eyes met – Jon's searching and Thayet's puzzled.
Jonathan hadn't felt so self-conscious in years – what in Mithros' name was she thinking? Or more importantly; what did she think of Jon?
The princess withdrew her hand, taking the breath out of Jon's lungs as she did so.
"We haven't been introduced." She said dryly.
She was certainly different to the other ladies at court. Prettier too.
"Thayet Jian Wilima," George said formally, whilst eyeing Alanna and looking slightly amused at the same time, "May I present Prince Jonathan of Conté? Or are you 'King' now Jon, or does that wait until the coronation?"
Jon didn't answer.
He hadn't even been listening.
"Does the introduction meet your standards, Your Highness?" Jon was proud to hear that his voice matched her's for dryness.
Thayet curtsied, just to the degree that was proper for a princess to curtsy to a king. Not an inch more. Her eyes were directly on Jon's, instead of being lowered modestly.
Jon liked it.
"I am 'Highness' no longer, Your Majesty. My father is dead and I am in exile. I hope to become Your Majesty's loyal, low-born subject."
'I hope not,' thought Jon as she lowered her head graciously.
About to sink into those hazel pools, Jon heard a wistful sigh. Thayet glanced away from him, eyeing the source. Suddenly she began to giggle, and then laugh.
Jonathan must have missed something, since Alanna was giggling too and George continued to smirk.
A fourth cup of tea was pored and Thayet sank into the seat beside Jon.
Jon smiled.
As it seemed, things were getting more interesting by the day.
El Fin…
xXx
A/N: The page break thing doesn't seem to be working... Oh well... Anyway, I just want to say thanks to Lia for BETAing this for me : ) Another Jon-fic... I hope you guys liked it and will leave a comment (even if it's just to flame me : p)