This is not my usual fluff...this is tragic, with a small bright light at the end.
Alanna stood near the window. Here she was, the fiery redhead who had wanted so much to be a knight, the young girl so fierce, now a worthless court lady. This was an Alanna quite different. In horse terms, broken to the saddle.
I f only Coram hadn't overheard her conversation with Thom.
If only she hadn't been sent to the convent instead of to the palace.
If only...
Those thoughts were useless now. Alanna was afraid that her husband would be arriving soon, her old husband who had married her for the title she beared. Alanna turned her face to the window and surveyed the ground below. What had once been a lush green tapestry of flowers and trees now was a wasteland. All because of Roger.
If only the sweating sickness hadn't taken the Prince.
If only there had been a healer strong enough to fight it.
If only...
Alanna thought of the years at the convent. Those horrible, awful years. She remembered being whipped after trying on a pair of old breeches she found in the rag pile. Being shut up in her room for using the butter knife instead of the steak knife. Being hungry all night after singing the lullaby off-key...
She felt a tear, a single, tear fall down her face until reaching her jaw, then slowly, slowly, slowly drip down from her chin, falling to the floor.
And with it went the small bit of her hope that she had left.
From up in the heavens, a sad Goddess watched the should-have-been Lioness as she slowly opened the large window in front of her. Because she was sent to the convent, the fate of the universe was turned around, in a bad way. Prince Jonathon of Conte died at the age of 15 from a mysterious sickness. George Cooper, at the age of 29, died at the hands of an evil knight, Ralon of Malven, who was never scared away from the palace. Thayet jin Wilima died, killed by those who wanted the throne. Roger of Conte became king and destroyed the beauty and organization of Tortall. His proclaimed heir, Alex of Tirragen, was a miniature version of him. The Ysandir continue to kill the Bazhir. Daine Sarrasri eventually died at the hands of those who hunted her, after not being allowed to enter Tortall. Numair Salmalin was killed by Ozorne, Roger's ally. Myles of Olau had died, alone in his house. Keladry of Mindelan suffered through an arranged marriage with Joren of Malven before dying of wounds from his beatings. Onua Chamtong died, huddled in a corner, at the hands of her husband. The Raka never ruled the Copper Isles. Nawat Crow died of hunger as a crow. And Alianne of Pirate's Swoop was never born.
As the Goddess watched Alanna leap out of the window, brave to the last moment, a tear fell down her cheek, the first tear she had ever cried. And, with that single tear, the last hopes of the universe fell also.
As the red haired woman walked down the road toward the light, silhouettes stepped to greet her. A black haired, blue eyed man gave her a comrade-like hug, which she returned. A girl with wild, bushy, hair stepped forward to shake her hand. A tall man with long black hair patted her on the back. An older man with a beard gave her a hug, one from father to daughter. A tall woman with blond hair and hazel eyes hugged her. They all walked into the light and disappeared.
Finally, a man with hazel eyes, a big nose, and brown hair stepped forward. For a moment they stared at each other, then they came together, as if they had known each other for years. He scooped her up in his arms, a single tear running down his nose, and followed the others into the light.