Private Pain [Alanna
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Alanna never considered herself to be an expert on love or anything having to do with it. In fact, she had more than once stated that she wanted nothing to do with love at all. As she sat inside of her shaman's tent in the Great Southern Desert, however, she realized that she'd gotten more of an education than she realized.
In her eight years of knight training, Alanna had learned many things. She had learned the obvious: fighting arts, mathematics, etiquette, etc. During her visits to the Inn of the Dancing Dove, she grew knowledgeable in less-than-legal activities, and fighting that no one would ever teach her at the palace. In the last few months of her training, a friend's mother had taught her how to be ladylike, as Alanna had been masquerading as a boy for almost half her life. She was sure there was more, but she wasn't thinking clearly. Alanna liked to learn, she took almost every opportunity given to do so. But love? Love wasn't something she wanted an education in.
She blushed at the memory of the first time she had made love. He had been so kind and gentle, sweet and loving. Alanna couldn't imagine a better first time than with him. How was she supposed to know that he would end up breaking her heart? At seventeen years old, bewitched by moonlight and too-blue eyes, she could hardly have been considered completely sane. Why had no one stopped her? She knew the answer, but wasn't willing to admit it to herself. She wasn't willing to admit that she had wanted to make love to him more than anything in that moment. It was dangerous, and the forbidden fruit is always the most tempting—Alanna, one could say, liked to bend rules.
Goddess, why did it have to hurt so much? Alanna was used to getting hurt. She'd had more bruises, cuts, scrapes, breaks, and wounds than she cared to admit. But flesh wounds (or bone wounds) didn't hurt as much as this did. This wasn't a pain that she could use her Gift to be rid of, either. This was a nagging, dull pain somewhere unknown. All she knew was it hurt too badly to bear. Alanna wasn't a crier, she wasn't very girly. She liked to keep those kind of things locked up. But she was barely containing her tears.
Frustrated, she swore. "I hate him," she muttered. She called him all sorts of nasty names, none of which she meant. After a solid ten minutes of cursing her first love, she collapsed into tears once more. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I didn't mean it. Not any of it." Burying her face in her pillow, she whispered words that no one else would hear, "Please come back. I changed my mind."
Despite her knighthood and masquerade, Alanna of Trebond and Olau was still a girl. She had her monthlies like one and had butterflies in her stomach when he looked her way. She was a girl, through and through. Nothing in any of the realms would change that. This was a pain she might have to bear a thousand times over, a pain that may never go away. But it was not a scar that would be visible to all. It would be a hidden scar, one that would be prone to opening for no apparent reason. A scar that would ache when she smiled; ache when she looked at him.
Alanna gathered all her strength and wiped her eyes. "No," she said quietly. "I won't." She sighed and convinced herself that she was done crying. This was a scar, a pain she would carry privately. No one else needed to know; no one needed to pity her. Alanna was strong—she had killed men with her sword. She had seen death; she had been to that frightening place between life and death. She had vanquished spirits. If anyone had the strength to overcome a fresh wound, it was her. "He's not worth it," she reminded herself. Even so, she couldn't help but touch the pregnancy charm around her neck. She let herself wonder for one brief second what it would be like to allow herself to carry his child. It would be a beautiful child, she reasoned. He was so handsome and she wasn't bad herself. Quickly she snapped herself from her reverie. "He's not worth it," she stated firmly.
Alanna got to her feet and stretched. She gathered her riding things and walked out of the tent to where her golden mare, Moonlight, was tethered. "Want to go for a ride?" she cooed, stroking her horse's muzzle. Moonlight nudged her owner. Alanna smiled and threw tack onto the mare. Within minutes, she had mounted. Once she was a safe distance from the village, Alanna nudged her mount into a gallop. A smile spread across her face as Moonlight's blonde mane fluttered in the breeze. She closed her eyes and let the wind carry all thoughts of him away.
Goodbye Jonathan.