A loosely-tied third companion piece to Late Night Musings (Jonathan), and A Room In The Knight's Wing (Kalasin). It gives the 'series' some closure, but mostly written to bring peace to my long-suffering Jon/Alanna heart (hopefully without too much damage to the canon shippings) - as such, significantly more direct exploration of A/J than the previous instalments.

All feedback always always welcome. :)

Our Years Together

It was the same wide expanse of ocean and salty tang in the air, but it felt different. The numerous ships dotting the landscape at the Port Caynn harbor were in stark contrast to the calm and rather desolate view over Pirate's Swoop. Alanna watched them from the window of the richly furnished room in the governor's castle, so different from the simplicity of her own.

She could go home, she thought. Pirate's Swoop was only a day's ride away. Even though George had taken Aly on his mission and the boys were still in Corus, it would be nice to relax in a familiar environment after her week of hard riding.

Alanna had long known the departure date of the diplomat vessel that would carry Princess Kalasin of Conte to Carthak, but knew there would be no royal send off for the bride-to-be. It had been a part of the bargain Kalasin had made with her father about her marriage arrangements. No royal ship. No banners. No spectators. Just family. Kalasin wanted her last look of her home to be on her terms, and the knight couldn't blame her.

Alanna's presence as Champion wasn't required for such an event. She had been inspecting a camp on the Scanra border one early summer evening when an urgent letter from the princess had arrived for her.

Please come, Kally had written.

Touched, the lady knight, after sending word back with the harried messenger, had readied her horse and belongings immediately. She had pushed her horse more than she liked, but had still only just made the send-off this morning. She felt exhausted and emotionally wrung out from seeing Kally off.

But even before the maidservant appeared at her door to announce the evening meal and confess nervously that His Majesty Jonathan of Tortall was missing from his room, she knew she wouldn't leave.

She had come for her, but now she stayed for him.

Alanna hadn't been surprised when Thayet made the decision to accompany her daughter as far as the Inland Sea. She could understand a mother's instinct to hold on to her child until the last moment. But when Jonathan raised no objections – she knew how careful he was about upholding certain elements of tradition, not to mention the security nightmare if word got out the Queen was traveling abroad – Alanna began to suspect that the finality of this arranged marriage was taking a bigger toll on him than he let on.

So it was that she stood by him today in the morning fog, one of a small delegation of relatives and nobles, as Kalasin and Thayet prepared to depart.

"It's not really goodbye," she had told Kally gruffly as the princess stopped in front of her. Kally nodded in response and hugged her fiercely. But both knew it would be a long time before they saw each other again.

Kalasin managed a small smile as she pulled away. The knight followed her poised shoulders and straight back as she moved with deliberateness down the queue, and looked down quickly lest her suddenly over-bright eyes betrayed her.

Alanna held back as Jonathan said his farewells, giving the family some privacy. She scrutinized him in sidelong glances as they watched the ship pull out of the harbor, checking him over for wounds like they had just come from battle. His face was unreadable. He was pale and his eyes were dull, like he had lost too much blood.

She shivered, even though it was a warm morning.

"Your ladyship?"

Alanna started, realizing the maidservant was still waiting for a response. She smiled at the anxious girl. "Thank you. Not to worry, I'll let His Majesty know."

She had stayed at the governor's castle frequently in the past, and knew its layout well. Alanna followed the maidservant down the corridor, before turning down a flight of steps that led to a small, secluded terrace overlooking the harbor. She remembered the hours her friends had spent there as pages and squires, giddy from the unaccustomed freedom they had on their day off. It had been an escape then, and it would be a sanction now.

Alanna found him standing against the balustrade at the far end of the terrace. His back was to her, and he might have looked relaxed, were it not for the slight droop of his shoulders and the unnatural position of his hands on the rail.

Jonathan was grieving, as she had known he would be.

She hesitated at the doorway. He didn't always want to talk when things were so raw.

"Please, stay." He didn't turn, but Alanna heard the plea in the way he said it. She crossed the small space to stand beside him, following his gaze toward the ocean. Her eyes traced the coastline, settling resentfully on the lively scene of ships jostling for entry into the harbor. It was, she thought, a mocking reminder that no amount of sea-faring ability could bring Kalasin back.

As if he read her mind, Jonathan murmured, "Carthak is her home now."

"Carthak is a strong alliance to have," she reminded him.

He nodded, and they lapsed into silence. Alanna knew he had planned a convincing display of festivities upon his return to Corus, but it seemed he was still trying to convince himself he was celebrating his daughter's marriage and not mourning her loss.

"I only hope I did right by her." When he broke the silence, he sounded almost like he was speaking to himself.

Alanna half-turned to look at him. He looked drained and very old.

He sighed. "I've taken a lot away from her. From all of them."

"Jon." She placed her hand over his, waiting until he looked at her. His clear blue eyes still had that haunted look she had seen at the dock, and her heart ached for him. "It's hard enough being a good father. It's even harder to be a good father who is also a good king. You've been both."

"Have I?"

"Stop that," she said severely, gripping his arm. "I know you're hurting, but I won't let you doubt that."

Jonathan's face was somber. "I've felt it with the others as well, but most of all with her. Each time I denied her, restricted her, hemmed her in and brought her down to the level of a bargaining chip, I wondered if I could have been a better father if I was less of a king." His eyes closed. "If I hadn't been king."

The bitterness in his voice shook her, and for a moment, Alanna could not speak. She shook her head. "No Jon," she amended softly, "Kalasin is who she is precisely because you are king."

His eyes were still closed. Her voice was low and urgent. "Being a princess didn't limit her. It showed her how capable she was. I know there were times she resented it – but who among us hasn't resented the gifts we're born with? I hated my Gift when I was a girl. Goddess, it took me years to even accept I was a girl."

Jonathan's lip twitched as he peered at her now, and Alanna was relieved to see some colour creep into his cheeks. "I've known Kally all her life. I've watched her grow into who she is – she has her mother's determination and her father's levelheadedness, and an optimism of her own that I, for one, admire wholeheartedly. I'm proud of the way she's learned to shoulder her duty to the kingdom, Jon."

He sighed. "I am proud of her, Alanna. I just wonder if she's happy. The others have always been easygoing and forgiving, but Kalasin – " he shook his head, " – she's very much like you, in many ways." The beginnings of a smile crept into his voice. "Unmanageable."

Alanna couldn't help a snort. "Couldn't you have found a more flattering term, sire? I could offer you several, to start – daring, ambitious, courageous…"

She took it as a positive sign that Jonathan chuckled. "What I mean is Kalasin was always meant to make her own way. Much as you did, Lady Knight."

"And she will," Alanna said firmly. "She'll do great things as the Empress of Carthak."

Jonathan had an odd expression on his face as he looked at her.

"You're surprised that I think that."

It took him a second too long to shake his head. He gave in when he saw she wasn't convinced. "No, I am not surprised you think that," he began. From the hesitation in his voice and the slight frown he wore, Alanna could tell this was not a conversation he had intended to have. He stared at her for a moment longer, before smiling and taking both her hands.

"I was only thinking, I was glad to hear you say it. Alanna, it's been over twenty years since I became king, and a lot has changed since then. It's funny, in the earlier years, I would sometimes think about how things would have been if – " He broke off, unsure.

"If I said yes," she finished softly.

"Yes. But I haven't wondered in years. Somehow, it feels like we've been – well, together, growing and learning all this time. I mean, you've still done great things. You've become an even more exceptional knight," he grinned as she snorted, "a war hero, a good mother. What?" He paused again as Alanna sighed.

"I don't know about that. I've often wished I understood them better," she mused. "Especially Aly. I wonder if I could have related to her more if I hadn't pretended to be a boy all those years. Or if I had known my own mother…"

"I know that. That's what I mean. I've experienced that with you as you have experienced everything with me. Just as we are now."

Alanna looked down at their linked hands, seeing their years in between laid out before her. She wondered if he was seeing it, too. The way they had been, her, the country's most talked-about knight, him, their most talked-about king. His royal marriage, her quiet wedding. The much anticipated and celebrated arrivals of his successive heirs. The chaos and uncertainty of announcing the King's Champion was with child. The progression of days, months, years that followed, littered with war and quiet times at home. His home. Her home.

She understood what he meant, for she had felt it too. In a way, she had spent the years with him after all, shouldering the same responsibilities, sharing the same moments. Apart, yet together.

His voice was quite steady when he spoke again. "I think it had occurred to me some time ago that if things were different, you would have been a good Queen, too. I didn't want to bring it up because, well, it felt silly to say when we both seemed to be happy."

Alanna met his gaze, and he held it. "It took me a long time to learn there might be more than one way to be happy," she said finally. She knew from his slow exhale that he understood it to be a confirmation of what he felt, but she added, more for Kally than for herself, "I guess it's something you pick up as you go along."

They were quiet for a moment. His eyes were bright as he looked at her, the gravity of his expression softened by a smile. "Thank you, Alanna." The tenderness in his voice made her whisper in response. "What for?"

He reached over and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. "For saying what I needed to hear."

Touched, she drew closer and pressed her thumb lightly over the lines along his forehead. "We've been happy, Jonathan."

"Yes, we have."

"And we've stood by the decisions we've made."

He chuckled, his hand tightening against hers. "Are you saying we did right in not dropping everything and making a break for it while we had the chance?"

The thought made Alanna grin. "And who would you have been? Farmer Jonathan?"

"Sure," he said easily. "You could still hunt, I suppose. And we could take turns cooking."

"Between the two of us, we would have been able to feed a bevvy of children."

"And your biggest worry would be how to marry them all off."

They laughed at the absurdity of it all. It surprised her that she was able to laugh after the tension of the morning, and realized that she and Jonathan had helped each other through the difficult day.

Slowly, they sobered. In the quiet that followed, both turned again to watch the calm ocean, where the sun was just beginning to set. Absentmindedly, he slipped his left arm around her waist, and she rested her head against his shoulder.

"Do you remember, Alanna, that time we stood here, in this very spot?" Jonathan murmured. "It was just before you became my squire."

"I remember."

"You looked out across the ocean, and told me that someday, you would discover what lay beyond it."

"And you scoffed – "

" – I did not scoff – "

" – and said that one day, your Tortall would eclipse all of that."

"And you vowed we would do it together." She felt him sigh, a small sound of contentment. "I suppose we've done alright, haven't we?"

Alanna nodded lazily against his tunic, her eyes closed. It occurred to her that regardless of the choices they'd made, she might still be standing here today, by his side, sending off a Conte daughter. Perhaps it didn't matter that they were friends, lovers, knight-masters and squires, fathers, mothers, kings, queens, or champions, for they would always be together, Jonathan and Alanna.

Her stomach rumbled, and Jonathan smirked. "Some things certainly never change."

He offered his arm, she took it, and together, Jonathan and Alanna walked into the castle for dinner.