NOT NOW, BUT SOON
His Royal Highness Prince Jonathan of Conté wound his way through back halls to avoid the hall he recently vacated in favour of pursuing his squire. He watched the ground in front of him as if it could answer his problems and resolve his questions.
Jonathan could not date the moment he knew he saw little Alanna of Trebond as more than his best friend and squire, but he felt confident that it began when he learned page Alan's true identity as page Alanna. Their fight against the Ysandir created an eternal bond between the two, but he suspected it put them on the path that led them to tonight, a clear May evening and Alanna's seventeenth birthday.
He remembered the first time he kissed her, in his tent on the River Drell. He spent three days by her side, worrying whether or not she would ever wake up. He told anyone who wondered that he felt responsible for his squire and no one questioned it, but he knew his concern for her went beyond what a knight-master felt for his squire or even a friend for another friend. Perhaps that was when the flurry of emotions began to consolidate. He remembered the softness of her lips as he kissed her, a kiss she did not reject. More might have happened, had Myles not come to check on Alanna.
He recalled the first time he saw her in a dress, that day in Mistress Cooper's shop, the day after he kissed her. He remembered how George stopped short at the sight, and how he barely recognized his small squire in the attractive young woman standing before him. He remembered the look on George's face as he looked at Alanna, and his realization that George Cooper loved their small friend. Everything felt clearer after that moment. Perhaps it was his pride that drove him to want to claim Alanna as his own, or perhaps it was the knowledge that he was not the only one who saw her as more than a friend that drove him to start forming conclusions about where he wanted their relationship to go.
Jonathan scrolled through his strongest memories of Alanna, hoping the past might point him toward a future. He remembered how she felt against him when he carried her back from the healing tents, the fire in her eyes when she felt threatened, the times she saved his life, the times she half-seriously threatened it… He smiled to himself as he neared his rooms. Alanna needed no protector.
Even so, he thought of how his stomach knotted when she disappeared or when she wrestled Demon Grey. He felt an intense urge to protect her, though he knew better than many how capable she was of protecting herself. Though Alanna may have thought the moonlight prompted him to kiss her in the garden that night, Jonathan knew better. What happened between them was no silliness it was…
Love? Was it love? Did he love Alanna of Trebond? How did one even figure out he was in love? He knew upon looking at his parents they loved each other. He knew he did not love Delia of Eldorne. But did he love Alanna of Trebond?
Jonathan entered his rooms and began to prepare for bed as quietly as possible, assuming Alanna wanted no reminder of his actions a short while before. He had stripped down to his hose when a knock came at the door connecting their two rooms. He answered to see his squire looking up at him with bright violet eyes.
"I'm scared. Help me, please." Once again, that intense urge to protect her swept over him. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and take away her fear, tell her it would be okay. But how could he tell her that when he did not know for sure? A romance with his squire came with certain complications. It was another secret they kept from the world, and one that scared him.
"I'm scared, too.At least we can be scared together." Alanna stepped into his room, shutting the door behind him. They looked at each other, sapphire meeting violet, neither completely ready to dive in. Slowly, carefully, Alanna raised herself up on her toes to press her mouth against Jonathan's. He wrapped his arms around her small, muscular frame, pulling her tighter. She responded in kind. Still wrapped in each other's arms, they maneuvered to his bed. He lay back onto her back gently, still wanting nothing more than to protect her.
Jonathan of Conté did not know if what he felt for Alanna of Trebond was love in that moment, and it did not matter. It was different from what he felt with Delia, or any other lady. It was deeper, as if his feelings for her were an integral part of what made him Jonathan. He owed Alanna his life, several times over. Surely his heart was not too low a repayment.