Author's Note: Well, here we go! I've written Harry Potter fanfic before, but not Tamora Pierce fanfic. I though this would be a good place to start, with my favorite character and the future king of Tortall. This should be an interesting ride, so buckle your seatbelts and let's get started. As anyone will say, I appreciate people reading my story, but I love people who review my story!

"You're really going?" Jon doubtfully looked at his old squire.

"Yes, I'm really going! How many times do I have to tell you? People here aren't going to accept me for who I am, they're going to start treating me like a woman! You know I earned my shield - but there's people who'll always believe I did it through trickery of some sort." Alanna pitched clothing into saddlebags, putting everything she wasn't taking into a large storage trunk.

"But the Chamber of the Ordeal…"

"Can't be tricked, I know. You know. But I don't need people looking down on me for being a woman."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Alanna! Look, you don't have to go off and prove yourself. You can beat even me with a sword, and everyone knows that!"

"I do. And that's final. I refuse to be treated like some prissy woman." Grabbing her saddlebags, buckling on Lightning's sheath, she left her old quarters for the final time, slamming the door hard behind her. "I hate you, Jon," she whispered to herself, toting her gear through twisting palace corridors. "You made me feel too feminine, so now that people know who I really am, they have something to throw in my face. I should've just died a virgin."

"Ye have no idea where she went?" Coram was frantic. "She tied me up with her witchin', knocked me out, and I haven't seen hide nor hair of her since!"

"Calm down, Coram." Jon's jaw was tight as he paced his chambers. "We'll find her. Unless she disappeared off the face of the earth, we'll find her. Besides, she can't have been gone more than a few hours."

As much as Alanna hated the cold, the heat and sand of the desert was worse. The only people she'd seen had been a small group of three hillmen. Apparently they'd thought that picking off a woman traveling alone would be easy - now, all three were dead, left to the mercies of the sand. How much more stupid do I get? Just because the people of Persopolis were friendly back when I was a page doesn't mean that the Bazhir will be anxious to meet me.

Can't we go back to Corus? yowled Faithful. Sand and cats do not mix.

"You probably have the right idea. I can't show my face in Corus now, though. People don't appreciate that I disguised myself, earned my shield, and then just left. Maybe someday, but not now."

You just don't want to face Jon, do you?

"Sometimes, cats would do better to be quiet," replied Alanna, whistling innocently as she tapped Faithful lightly on the nose. "Besides, why should I be afraid of Jon? I love him, you know that!"

The cat licked a paw, rubbing it over his face impatiently. No, you're just afraid of what he's done to you. You're afraid of being a woman.

Jon swore as fluently as the thieves he'd learned from. "Damn it! I can't see anything!" Angrily, he pitched the scrying mirror across the room, where it shattered upon contact with the wall. Turning it the knock on the door, he pulled it open.

George Cooper stood there, looking a good bit older then twenty-five. "My spies haven't found anything," he said after bowing deeply and collapsing into the proffered chair. "Nothing! And you yourself said I've got the best network around, better even then my Lord Provost's!"

Jon too slumped into a chair, rubbing his hands over his face. "Have you slept like I have?" he asked his old friend - a friend Alanna had introduced him to.

"How's that, Your Majesty?" A ghost of a smile darted across George's lips.

"I don't think I got four hours of sleep last night."

"Ah, missing your bedfellow, then? I thought you were looking for Alanna as a comrade, not as a lover!" Although it was still painful, knowing that he and Alanna would never get to share what she shared with Jon, he knew that Jon would do right by her.

"You really are impossible, George! I'm looking for Alanna because she ran off without telling anyone where she was going, and by the Gods, she was stupid enough to go alone! She knows it's almost raiding season, and if she went south like she'd planned - it's always raiding season down there." He broke off swearing.

"We'll find her somehow." Even George didn't look convinced. "How's Coram holding up?"

"He's holding up. Sometimes I wonder if he needs a woman around. He's busy with guard duties by day, drinking by night, and complaining that there's no one to give him hangover remedy in the morning. I think he's worried, though."

"I don't know how the Bazhir can live like this," Alanna spoke aloud, even though no one could hear her. "This damned sand is everywhere, and it's not going away!"

Can't we just go back to Corus? This is a pointless endeavor.

"Faithful, I love you, but you really can be stupid at times! I already told you--" Suddenly, without warning she was forced to her knees, dropping her dinner in the process. Behind her, she heard Moonlight whinny in fear.

When she was finally allowed to rise, she looked up… and up… and up into the eyes of the Great Mother Goddess. Throwing back the hood of her cloak, she spoke. "You don't need to abuse poor Faithful, first of all. And second of all, when are you going to learn?"

"Going to learn what, Mother? I don't mean to be rude, but I do have my shield, and now, I'm on a trip to discover myself."

"Child, all you're discovering about yourself is that you have a strong dislike of sand. And not only that, but you're abusing yourself for loving Jon. Why?"

"I'm not abusing myself for loving him! I'm trying to break up with him painlessly - for him, I mean, as I don't love him."

"Apparently you didn't hear what I told you nearly four years ago about learning to love. You're not going to be able to run from how he feels about you. It will be even harder to run from how you feel about him."

"Goddess, but… I don't…"

"Ah, your Rogue." Alanna's blush proved her correct. "You'll have to do something about him, if you want to marry Jon…"

"But I don't want to marry Jon, that's the thing! I… He hasn't even proposed yet! He might not ever propose!" she blustered.

"You don't know what you want, do you?"

"I don't even know if I want to be a knight errant, or even if I want to keep my shield! I'd almost rather find some Lower City commoner and marry and forget about who I am."

"Child, it doesn't work that way."

By now Alanna was starting to cry, which took her beyond furious. She hated to cry. It was feminine, it was weak… "I j-just… want some t-t-time… off," she blubbered.

"Time off from what?" The Goddess knew exactly what, but it wasn't the gods' duty to interfere more than was necessary. She'd probably taken it too far already.

"Life! I don't know what I want to do, I don't even know if I want to marry, let alone who I want to marry!"

"Then come with me, my child," whispered the Goddess, wrapping the kneeling knight in her cloak. Alanna's last sensation was that of whirling gray fog.