Disclaimer: I own nothing except the cheesy plot and my OC´s ( whom you might like or hate ;) ) and the situation I put them in ( poor fellas).

Credit for the magical world of Tortall and its inhabitants goes to the awesome Tamora Pierce!

Chapter 1: Encounters

Carefully balancing the heavy books on her outstretched arms Wren slowly made her way towards her study chambers.

I really should have learned my lesson by now, she swore grimly while she tried to spy around the huge pile of books to watch her way- as she already had experienced she knew her struggle was futile. The next time I'll drag one of the pages along, at least that's something the little brats are useful!

Just as she walked around the next corner of the corridor she suddenly collided with something massive, that definitely should not have been there.

The sudden impact sent her flying straight to the cold marble floor. The awful bashing of the old manuscripts colliding with the stone sent shivers down her spine which worried her more than the upcoming pain in her back. A low groan caught her attention- the man she had crashed into, sat on the floor rubbing his stomach. Judging from the heavy metal bound book in his lap she deduced, that it hit him right in his solar plexus. A small satisfactory grin hushed over her features.

Serves you right, you ignorant fool!

The man turned his eyes on her and muttered:" Would you mind watching your steps more carefully in the future? You might accidentally kill somebody with these heavy monsters!"

Instantly a frown appeared on her face and she felt her eyebrows narrowing in anger.

"Me? Watching my step? As I recall YOU weren't carrying anything and therefore could have effortlessly stepped out of my way if you'd been a little more aware of your surroundings, Sir!" Her pale eyes quickly took in his appearance- attractive, brown hair, dark green gold-rimmed tunic and black breeches- a noble's outfit made of high quality cloth; she was sure she'd seen him before and should recall his name.

He opened his mouth but she interrupted him: "You seem to be of perfect health to me so I can't see why you behave like a whimsical ninny! Broken bones can be mended and injuries can be cured, but these-"she took up one heavy book and slid her hand over the dusted cover affectionately- "are valuable records of magic theory. Some over 300 years old and - let me assure you of this- far more important than a bruise on you. Besides since you are a knight, shouldn't you be familiar with battle injuries?"

He watched her perplexed as she struggled to get back to her feet and started picking up the scattered books- all the while muttering to herself.

Just as she was about to reach for the heaviest book- a 250 year old copy of Duanor Ravishnar´s the origins of magic- the heavy volume was picked up by a large hand.

Wren looked up, dark brows raised in mistrust- what did he intend by his actions? She had expected him to scold her for impudent attitude- she always had had a temper, which brought her more trouble than she could recall, and if she was honest mostly it was on her own account. Instead he seemed rather amused.

"May I help you with your errands?" He asked, while picking up another book and adding it to the growing pile.

She eyed him suspiciously, was he mocking her? There was a glance of amusement in his hazel eyes; she didn't like being laughed at but otherwise- the books were indeed heavy and the prospect of carrying them the long way to her quarters was not very alluring.

"Fine, make yourself useful then!" She stood up straitening her wide cut black tunic and skirts and tried her best to ignore the stinging pain in her backside. Soon all the books but the copy of origins of magic- which she refused to get out of her care- were piled up again. Since he was a good deal taller than she- and she had never been a small woman- he could easily watch his way and wasn't in danger to trip over somebody or something.

"My quarter's are in the east tower, first floor." Without waiting for his reply, she fell into a fast pace. Soon she heard his heavy footsteps following, but the sound dulled away as she picked up the train of thought the little incident had broken. Her current experiment consumed most of her free time, when she wasn't working on new battle spells or teaching magic to the gifted pages and squires. And although she had spent hours in the library, consulting ancient spell books it still did not work as she planned it. Which was rather frustrating. How could she ever hope to equal a black robed mage if she wasn't able to solve this little puzzle? There had to be a way to focus and store the arcane energy without draining the sorcerer in the process. But why was she unable to handle it? The last time she tried to create an artefact to store the natural flow of arcane energy present in the natural surrounding and bind it to a polished crystal, the whole experiment had gone totally wrong. In fact the magical explosion had shaken the whole eastern wing of the castle and blown up half of her study chamber. To say the king had not been pleased was a huge understatement. He had been quite determined to make her swear by Mithros that she'd used the strongest protection spells whenever she intended to play with powerful forces again. Wren had known that he had been right. It was her fault not to take appropriate precautions.

She'd never been too proud of herself to make the same mistake twice. The next time her calculations went wrong, nobody had detected any signs. The carefully woven protection spells had been sufficient; the only side effect had been her clothes, which had turned into a pile of ashes as a result of the roaming energy. Who was she to morn over a set of black linen clothes? Her wardrobe had more than a pair of spares. At least she was now sure, that the protection spells had hold.

Hopefully, Duanor Ravishnar had an answer which might help to solve her little problem. If that meant to spent her nights flapping through ancient scrolls and old books- than be it! She refused to give up. Gritting her teeth she promised herself again, she would succeed at all costs!

The sound of a deep voice interrupted her.

She stopped, turning around to face him with an angry glare. "I am grateful for your help but please "she stressed the word "refrain from speaking. It may not occur to you but I am more than busy with my own matters and can't afford some chitchat simply for matters of entertainment. If you be silent from now on- I'd be happy for the chance to concentrate on my work."

Again he seemed to be highly amused by her actions as he indicated a little bow in her directions and replied:" I live to serve, my lady!"

She just rolled her eyes, muttering to herself, that she was nothing near being a lady, and was just about to continue walking, when the door to the great hall was opened and Jonathan of Conté, the king himself, entered the corridor.

"Good morning, your majesty" she curtsied, while her mind quickly scanned for any incidents of the past days which might arouse his anger again. Luckily, she hadn't blown up anything, so she decided she could afford a little small talk.

"Good morning, Havrenne. Isn't it a bit early to take up your studies?"

"I wanted to take a quick look at some of these old tomes before my first class starts."

It was only then when the king seemed to notice who carried the heavy load of her reading. The puzzled look on his handsome face changed quickly into a broad smile. "If I had known your position as prime minister doesn't occupy yourself, Gary, I'm sure I would have found some other task to complete, so you wouldn't have to do a page's errant.

Wren winced inwardly at this revelation. Of course had she seen him before. Gareth of Naxen the king's prime minister. If possible she would have banged her head against the nearest wall, as punishment for stupidity. Curse her bad habit of not memorizing the faces of people who weren't involved in her work.

"You know, Jon, I could never resist a charming lady." Wren felt her blood boil with fury. Suddenly she developed a sudden urge to choke him. She struggled hard to restrain her boiling anger but it was futile- as usual her eyes betrayed her emotions too easily. Hastily she lowered her gaze- she didn´t want any of the men to notice her state of mind. Being the object of their amusement was embarrassing enough. Despite having a sharp tongue on her own, Wren had never liked to be made fun of. It reminded her too much of her student days at the university of Carthak.

When she decided to study higher magic and complex spells her teachers and fellow students had laughed at her. Even the few female students had said it was unfit for a woman to aim for a high rank in any category that didn't equal the natural role of a woman. Domestic spells, protection charms and healing spells- those were the subjects considered to be appropriate for a woman.

Only a small minority among the robed sorcerers were female and none of them occupied a rank above yellow. Wren always doubted this was simply the result of women being less gifted than their male companions. Most of the gifted women who attended the university were either noble born or daughters of wealthy families who were eccentrics or simply held the hope of raising the marital status of a daughter educated in healing and domestic magic.

No sane parent would encourage his daughter to apply for a position as warrior mage, due to the common belief, that, no matter how skilled a sorceress was, she would never equal a male sorcerer of the same level. As far as attack spells and higher magic were concerned, it was a common knowledge that a woman was inferior due to her lack of physical strength and willpower, which hindered her to gain control over the most powerful spells.

Because she wasn't allowed to attend the classes for warrior mages she resumed to sneak into the library at night and secretly studied advanced and difficult spells on her own. Sometimes Arram would join her, and although she couldn't admit it back then she was glad for every bit of help.

Still she longed for the chance to one day gain the rank of a black robe; since Emperor Kaddar had taken over the throne the prospect of returning to Carthak one day to finish her studies was no longer bleak.

This would change if she gave in to her fury and strangled the prime minister in front of the king. Surely this wouldn't help him forget about her little accident with the explosive potion.

Mithros, Mynoss and Shakith, she swore, what have I done to deserve this?

Holding on to the torn and thin strand of her self control she managed to fake a smile and addressed the king.

"I'm really sorry to interrupt your lovely conversation, but I have to hurry if I don't want to be late for my class." Adding another apologetically smile which didn´t reach her eyes and managed only half to cover the acid tone in her voice, she turned on her heels and walked away.

"You could have told me ", she said accusingly, when he caught up with her.

"I tried" he replied with a smile "As I recall you were the one who was too busy for chitchat."

"Touché", she said dryly. "You got me on that one." She let out a deep sigh, mentally preparing herself for what she was about to say. "I'm busy with a serious arcane experiment and its progress is rather... slow. That's why I'm not in exactly high spirits, but anyway thanks for your help." That was the closest to an apology she could manage. She eyed him out of the corner of her eyes waiting for a reaction, but he just shrugged.

"It's no bother. Besides, Jon was right, you should let a page help you with this stuff. How did you plan to carry them through the entire castle?"

Wren glared at him.

"I'm not one of those court ladies who whine whenever they break a nail- and if I really couldn't manage to carry them I could have easily bewitched the books to reduce their weight."

"True. How could I forget, since you were the one responsible for the cracks in the walls of the west tower." She heard him chuckle and felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Curse to her pale skin, she must resemble an overripe tomato by now. "Do you know how much the renovation had cost?"

"You like to rub people's mistakes in their noses, don't you?" She retorted sharply.

"As far as they are responsible for the diminution of the royal treasury, I do."

"Look, I said I was sorry. You don't think I blew the whole lab up on purpose, do you? It's not that I like to be reprimanded by everyone who's heard a slightest bit about magic. Mistakes happen, and that one was a random error. How was I supposed to know the crystal would explode? I'm taking intensified security precautions and since no one was hurt- except my pride- I'd be glad if you just cut it out!"

He commented her outburst with a simple raising of eyebrows.

"You do have a quick temper. Reminds me of someone I know."

She glared at him, still fighting to control her boiling anger. "It's your fault for teasing me. Besides we're almost there. My study is behind that door. You really don't need to carry the books any further; I can manage on my own." She motioned to take them from him but he evaded her grasp with a shake of head.

"That would be very discourteous to not finish what I started, wouldn't it? Please, lead the way." Oh, how she longed to punch this stupid grin off his face! Wren was sure he liked teasing her and to her infinite displeasure there was nothing she could to. So she faked a smile and said in her sweetest tone:" You are too kind, sir! I hope my modest little home will be to your liking." She ignored his chuckling and opened the door, which swung open without a sound. When she had moved into the east wing two weeks ago she had seen to the angles being oiled. She hated grating doors; the incessant sounds haunted her short hours of sleep, and made her even crankier.

The anteroom which functioned as Havrennes study was overcrowded with books and scrolls. Everywhere on the floor old tomes were piled up neatly, scrolls rested on the numerous bookshelves and several maps and hand drawn sketches were pinned to the few spaces of the wall, which weren't already occupied with shelves or crystalline lamps. Havrenne hurried to the desk, which too was crowded with a currently empty book holder, messed up papers, pens and a snow globe with a tiny figurine of a dancer dressed in white. With a swing of her right hand she pushed the papers away to make room for the books.

"Just put them down…" Before she was able to continue an ear piercing howl emanated from behind the other door in the little room.

"It's my dog!" She answered his questioning gaze.

"Fluffy, be silent!" She ordered but to her great dismay Fluffy decided that he was old enough to develop a serious case of deafness and continued whiffing and barking. Gary had put the pile of books on the desk and watched her with amusement as she tried to calm the excited dog- to no avail. In the end she stormed over and opened the door. Instantly a huge white shadow rushed out jumping up and down like an oversized fur ball, all along yelping with obvious joy. The two most striking things about Fluffy: he was the tallest and ugliest dog he had ever seen in his whole life. Even while on all fours Fluffy was tall enough to rest his massive head on the desk. He was an albino mongrel with huge watery red eyes, pink muzzle, plate-sized paws and long yellow white fur. The dog wagged his tail in joy and had just finished greeting his mistress and decided that it was the right time to have a close look at the unknown stranger.

He heard Havrenne mutter:" Fluffy, don't…" But it was too late, the dog had already jumped him and for the second time he hit the floor as 160 pounds of joyful dog crashed into him. Fluffy had obviously decided that he was a potential friend and chose to express his amiable feelings by leaving pools of drool on his face and tunic. Great!

He tried to push the dog away, but Fluffy continued to lick his face affectionately. After what seemed like hours Havrenne finally managed to pull the dog away and lock him up in the bedroom. Gary was still busy cleaning himself from dog saliva when she re-entered the room. After a quick glance at his soiled clothes she blushed.

"I'm sorry; normally he's a really nice obedient dog. I don't know why but he seems to like you." Apparently uncomfortable with the situation she fumbled with her silver hairpin. "Wait a minute; I got a spell to clean that of." She waved her hand in a fluent motion and uttered a word in the old language. Instantly the foul smell of dog saliva vanished and his tunic felt clean and dried up as if it had just come from the laundry.

Before he could thank her, she waved her pale hand at him and cut him off.

"It's ok. You carried my books; I cleaned up your clothes - guess that makes us equal. Besides, it's getting late and I don't want to be late for my own class. It was a pleasure meeting you, have a nice day!" With that she shoved him out of her quarters, and before he even comprehended what was going on she closed the heavy door in his face. Puzzled he stared at the dark wood as if that would help to solve the mystery called Havrenne.

Gary shook his head but even though he had business of his own to attend to – by now the reports were sure to pile up on his desk- he couldn't get the unusual woman out of his head. Truth to be told, when he ran into her his first impulse had been to reprimand her but when he had seen her face- pale eyes beaming with scorn- her resemblance to an angry little squirrel had served to banish any resentful feelings. The fact that she didn't recognize him had greatly amused him. He had always been quite popular with the ladies at court and as time went by had gotten used to the fact that many noble mothers held the notion that he would make the perfect husband for their daughters.

Havrenne, however, didn't seem to be the kind of woman who was on the catch for a husband. Not that he felt attracted to her in that way. He mentally shrugged. It wasn't that she was an eyesore, maybe if dressed up properly she might have been called pretty, but either she didn't care much for her appearance or she dressed on account in a way which made her look like her own great grant aunt. If Jon hadn't called her by her name, Gary would never have believed her to be the infamous mage, who already held the record of being rather unsocial and having a talent for pissing off the king. Her choice of dressing was befitting for an elderly librarian and the black clothes emphasized the unhealthy paleness of her skin- a typical feature of scholars and mages who spent too much time in dark rooms over ancient scrolls- and the dark circles under her pale grey-blue eyes didn't change that impression for the better. Even if her pale lips weren't frowning- an expression which she seemed to held rather often- her dark brown hair, tied up in an accurate knot high up on the back of her head, reminded him of the hairstyle his former nanny (a strict humourless spinster) had preferred. Gary doubted that any woman below the age of fifty could look good with that attire! And if she sported a quick temper and a sharp tongue, well, he was sure after this little encounter he might point out who stood model for the saying that hell had no fury like a woman's scorn. Pity the man who was unlucky and cursed enough to become the object of her hatred!

And yet, he couldn't ignore the fact that somehow this little minx was an interesting person- furious temper and impudent attitude included.

Author´s note:

Not so many surprises in this initial chappy ... I promise this fic actually does have a plot ( although it´s just a pretense for all the romantic stuff I just can´t avoid to write...). Be patient, please, read and review and you´ll see! ( catchy advertisement isn´t it??).

I know that Gary is supposed to be married to Cythera. Since he was never one of my favourite characters ( I´m a huge George- fan...no wonder I like Rosto , too), this info simply slipped past my notice when I read Protector of the small. When the idea for this fic popped up in my mind I did some research for the timeline and I was totally surprised to discover that he´s already taken-ooooops! Whatever, he´s single in this one so it´s oviously an AU.

I´m no native speaker and therefore I appreciate any constructive criticism concerning style and grammar ( should someone feel the urge to volunteer as beta reader- feel free to contact me;) ).

I hope you enjoyed reading ... to be continued...