Tamora Pierce has long been one of my favourite authors. I only hope that I can do her work justice. Despite the lapse of years since I first read the books, I still love them. And poor Alan, he just never gets his story told. So, I thought I'd give it a whack.
Disclaimer: Tortall and its inhabitants et cetera are the creations of Tamora Pierce. I don't own it.
Despite being a twin, Alan of Pirate's Swoop often felt like the middle child, the child often forgotten and looked over in favour of his vivacious and talented siblings. Where Thom stunned their extended family and friends from a young age with his advanced grasp of magic and sorcery, his thirst for knowledge and his attachment to their Uncle Numair, and Aly blazed a trail right from childhood with her stubborn wilfulness, her knack for codes and spying and her passionate disagreements with their mother, Alan was passed over. He did not wield the Gift like his brother Thom, passed down from his mother; nor did he have the Sight, like his twin sister and their father.
Magic, Alan felt, was the core of the problem. That was what had alienated him as a child. Thom, like his namesake, had grasped eagerly at his Gift and had sought to learn and strengthen his hold on his magic. Their mother had noticed his interest and had taught him how to scry, how to create fire and send messages. Once Thom reached adolescence and his childhood dream to become a powerful sorcerer manifested into a real ambition, he sought the company of Numair Salmalin, a dear friend of their parents' and the most powerful mage in Tortall. Aly, on the other hand, had the Sight, more powerful and extensive than that glimpse of magic that their father possessed, however. Their father and Numair had cultivated her gift, strengthening her will and ability to isolate certain aspects of the Sight. When he was younger, Alan had often noticed, somewhat bitterly, that Aly took her gift for granted to a certain extent. Instead of being grateful for the magic she possessed, Alan thought that she often grew tired with her limited talent, wishing instead for the Gift that her mother and brother had.
Alan had not even a spark of magic. He'd been resigned to that fact for as long as he could remember. He had been tested by Numair and his mother at a young age but with no result. When he was five, the time such a test had been performed, his mother had said to him, "No, Alan," and hugged him, resting her chin on the crown of his head as she ran her fingers gently through his short reddish-blonde locks. At that time, he was still at the age when he thought her the sweet, loving mother of fairytales. When they had been younger, during the Immortals War and before, his faint memories were of brief hugs and kisses as she had prepared to move out. Alan suspected that then, at the age where they could not argue back, mother and children had had a far more harmonious relationship.
Over the years, tales of his mother's deeds as a squire, knight and King's Champion reached her children. Despite her stubbornness, fierce temper and curt nature, Alan smiled every time he caught her using the rose-painted mirror from Thom to scry, or wearing the pearl earbobs given to her by the twins.
Throughout his childhood, Alan had always been in awe of his older brother, Thom. Thom's name had meaning; when they were very young at a time when their mother was away doing the work of King's Champion, Da had sat with them in the study and told them about their names. Thom was named after their uncle, the most powerful sorcerer of their time and the youngest to pass the Ordeal of Mastery and become a black-robed mage. Lord Thom of Trebond had done what no other had done; he raised Duke Roger of Contè from the dead.
Aly, never one for patience, had demanded her story to be said next, and had spoken for days afterwards of how her name was a derivation of Lianne, the deceased Queen of Tortall and chosen for her by their father, whom she adored.
Alan, quietly waiting until last, had listened in silence as their father explained in his lilting voice that their grandfather, their mother's true father, not her adoptive father Myles of Olau, had been named Lord Alan of Trebond and it was in honour of this man that he had received his name. Alan, somewhat disillusioned, had cornered their mother a month later after she had arrived home at the Swoop following her time in Carthak during the prelude to the Immortals War. Patiently, she had sat down on the steps next to Alan and told him about his grandfather, Lord Alan. She told him stories from her childhood, about how he wanted her to be a lady and had rejected magic. Alan's horror at being named after such a man had clearly been shown in his expression. His mother, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, had smiled and told him of the obvious and eternal adoration with which Lord Alan had treated his wife during her life and remembered her with after her death.
Alan hadn't minded so much after that.
Thom, a tall and true redhead with hair a deeper scarlet even than their famous mother's, had never been particularly close to either of his parents or siblings, for all he adored Aly and Alan and looked up to his parents for guidance and love. From birth, Thom, like his siblings, had been surrounded by the many friends of his mother and father. Alan suspected that the company of such names as Numair Salmalin, a mage of unequalled strength and power, and Veralidaine Sarrasri, the Wildmage and offspring of Immortals, had proved a greater influence on the small boy than the combined presence of their parents, their mother, the King's Champion and their father, Tortall's Spymaster.
"Alan, you have to understand that Thom, he's different from you and Aly. He was always going to be a sorcerer."
As he grew older and the childish games from their youth evaporated into memories, Thom had become more and more aloof, immersing himself in books, spells and cultivating and controlling the power within him. When Alan realised that his older brother no longer had time for him, his mother had been there to explain in the simple, blunt manner that she was famous for, the manner that Alan could understand perfectly, as it resembled his own.
"I called him Thom, after my twin brother. He resembles his namesake. He studies and learns and in his passion for sorcery, he forgets his friends and family. Unlike my brother, however, he is not driven by pride and blind ambition. Alan, you must always be thankful for that."
Alianne, fondly nicknamed 'Aly' by Thom when she was but a week old, had been her father's shadow for as long as Alan could remember. It was as plain as day that they had been cut from the same cloth. Spying, trickery and deception ran through the veins of their father, dating from his time as the King of Thieves. Aly had always been more skilled at code-cracking, pick-pocketing, handling knives, spying and other tricks taught to them by their father than her siblings. She truly was her father's daughter and Alan had long ago realised that despite their being linked by a connection more powerful than magic, something deep within them in their bones, running through their blood and in the mind, they were fundamentally different. But Alan loved Aly more than any other human being. Their connection had often baffled Numair; Alan and Aly had taken great delight in confusing him and befuddling him with greatly embellished anecdotes in the past. Over the years, they had discovered that they could sense each other when hurt, afraid or in danger. When Aly's horse had thrown her, leaving her grievously injured, Alan had known that she was in pain; he could feel it within him, echoing through his mind; an innate feeling of wrongness. Having alerted his parents immediately, he had caught their father looking at him with amazed confusion after Aly had been recovered. Next to him, his mother was smiling wryly.
"Twins."
His mother understood.
"Alan, Aly's going to stay in the Copper Isles."
His mother spoke cautiously, her violet eyes wary as they searched his face for a hint as to his emotions. His despair must have manifested itself in his expression because her eyes filled with something akin to pity. It wasn't like his mother to show such vulnerability.
"I know. She's your twin. But she's a spy, like your Da. You'll miss her, but she'll always be with you."
His mother had gently touched his forehead, looking into his hazel eyes.
Alan's father, Baron George Cooper of Pirate's Swoop, was widely recognised as, despite being a nobleman by title, a fool as much for his background as a common thief as for his marrying the famed Lady Knight, Alanna of Trebond and Olau. He was a tall man—all of his children took after him in that respect, towering over their mother—with gold-streaked brown hair and humorous and highly intelligent hazel eyes that each of his offspring possessed. Alan had known from a young age that their father was a powerful man; he regularly rode to Corus to speak with Sir Myles, Tortall's official Spymaster, and the King. Despite this niggling awareness, however, Alan chose to see him as Da, the charming and good-natured man who played 'hide and seek' with the twins, the one who taught them to ride, watch the sea, handle knives and some basic hand-to-hand combat while their mother was away.
Despite this rose-coloured fantasy, Alan had always known that their father had secrets. When the twins were ten, Aly had found a collection of ears in one of their father's secret hidey-holes. Upon showing their parents, Alan had never seen his mother so furious with their father. Her voice reverberated around the cold stone fortress, her harsh words echoing in the silence. One day, not long after, their parents had sat the twins down in the study and his father had explained to them that he had once been a thief in the city of Corus, the King of Thieves, the ruler of the Court of the Rogue. After Jonathan's coronation, he had been granted an official pardon and the title and lands of Pirate's Swoop. With a wicked glint in his eye that caused his mother to sigh and roll her own violet orbs, he explained his policy as the Rogue.
"One mistake is a warning. Two mistakes and I take an ear. Three and I take the other ear and all that's attached."
Alan had looked from one parent to the other, eyes wide. Aly, sitting silently at his side, did not look so surprised. When it came to their father, Alan thought grimly, she never did. Both father and daughter had the hand of the Crooked God on them, his mother had explained when she told him of Aly's intent to serve the raka Queen Dovasary of the Copper Isles.
"Aly's meant to be a spy. She's found her purpose. Finally."
His mother sounded wry. No doubt she was reflecting on her daughter's determination and perseverance over the years to become a spy for Tortall. She had been refused and so his headstrong sister had, somehow, managed to find a niche in the Copper Isles, a land famous for unstable rulers and breeding insanity, including the likes of Josiane, a Princess of the Rittevon line whom his mother had beheaded in the melee of King Jonathan's coronation after she had killed Master Si-Cham with an axe as she tried to murder Alanna.
Alan smiled. He liked his mother's dry humour and pertness.
"Trust Aly to do the impossible."
Alanna surveyed him with violet eyes; eyes that often made folk uncomfortable. To Alan, it was his mother. If he hadn't become used to violet eyes by now, he never would.
"What about you, Alan?"
His mother, like his father and sister, was also touched by the gods. Lady Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, the King's Champion, had the hand of the Goddess on her and wore the token that she had taken from the hand of the Mother, the glittering ember that hung around her throat, always. In hindsight, Alan could truly appreciate the hardship and difficulty of being the child of a legend. His mother, unlike her predecessor as Champion, was constantly being called upon to do the work of the King and the Realm; her position often required her absence from Pirate's Swoop. As children, Thom, Alan and Aly had missed her bitterly every time she had left. As they grew older, Thom cared less and less, recognising both the importance of her tasks and the rising aspirations within himself. Aly had always been rebellious with a will of iron which, Alan suspected, had been inherited directly from the Lioness herself. It had resulted in spectacular clashes of wills and temper. The difference between them lay in the matter of purpose. Alanna of Trebond had always known where her passion lay and had let nothing stop her from achieving her knighthood. Alianne of Pirate's Swoop had spent the majority of her adolescence flirting with every young male in Court and toying with the idea of following in their father's footsteps as Spymaster, a forbidden dream.
Alan, like Aly, had not realised where his path lay. He had spent his time between the ages of nine and twelve studying the Bazhir and spending time in the desert with his mother at her tribe, the Bloody Hawk. Their communication, tradition and history had fascinated him from a young age where his brother had only cared to speak to King Jonathan about the sorcery behind the Voice of the Tribes and his sister had not cared at all.
It was not until later that Alan decided that he wished to travel to Corus and become a page, the first step leading to eventual knighthood. He could remember making the decision, feeling as though a part of himself clicked into place and the weight of the future that he had long since borne upon his shoulders was relieved somewhat.
"Alan, what is it?" His mother had asked sharply as the door to his father's study had swung open, revealing his father sitting at his desk, his mother standing at his shoulder, both watching him carefully.
"Take a seat, lad," his father said quietly, hazel eyes glancing up at his wife, silently calming her down.
"Nothing's wrong," Alan said, reassuring his mother, knowing the reason for her curtness, knowing that her prickly exterior shielded her worry.
She visibly relaxed. "What can we do for you?" she had then asked, violet eyes twinkling.
"I've made a decision," Alan announced, speaking to both of them, for all his eyes never left his mother's. "I want to become a knight."
His father's shock was exceedingly brief as his surprised expression rapidly morphed into one of cheeky delight as he turned his infectious grin to his wife. His mother raised an eyebrow, violet eyes shrewd as she studied her son.
"You're sure, Alan?" Alanna had asked.
Alan nodded, meeting her disconcerting gaze.
She jerked her head towards the connecting library. Alan walked to the door and followed her into the room. "I need to talk to our son alone," had had informed her husband. "And no listening at keyholes from you, George Cooper!" she had added as an afterthought, her eyes twinkling with rare humour. Turning back from the now-closed door, she flicked purple fire into the corners, sealing the room from prying ears just in case. "This conversation is for you and me, alone," she'd said gravely. "Alan, are you sure that this is what you want?"
Sensing more behind his mother's question, Alan asked, "What do you mean, Mother?"
Alanna sighed. "You're not doing this to please me, are you?"
Alan met her gaze with some trepidation. She read his answer clearly in his honest hazel eyes and in his telling silence.
"If it's not what you want, don't do it," she told him. "I would hate to see you, particularly, struggle with something that is not meant for you."
Alan raised his chin stubbornly. "I will become a knight," he had declared. "My mother is the greatest swordsman alive. I'm nowhere near as good as you, Mother, but I'm a fair hand, and I'm quick. I want to make you and Da proud and do my duty to Tortall."
Alanna had looked at him, something akin to pride in her eyes. "If it's what you want, then I have no power to stop you."
"Will you take me to Corus, Ma?"
Upon approaching the rooms of the current training master, Lord Padraig haMinch, Alan had entered first as his mother spoke with the serving man, instructing him to take Alan's bags. haMinch sat behind his desk, surveying the boy carefully. When his mother entered the room, instant recognition and respect flared in his eyes.
"I've come to deliver my son, Alan of Pirate's Swoop," she told him bluntly. "He's to become a page."
"So one of your offspring did choose to enter the knighthood after all," haMinch said dryly. "Odds were on the girl."
Alanna sighed, her patience clearly tested. "Odds never meant anything. Get on with it, haMinch."
Clearly his mother had made another enemy with her quick tongue and quicker temper. However, both his mother and his training master seemed to regard each other with tentative respect.
After they had left the room, Alanna caught her son's elbow. Looking up at him—he stood a full two inches taller than her already—she spoke quickly and quietly. "Lord Padraig haMinch may be an ironic and stubborn old mule, but he's fair, he's a good knight and he's a daisy compared to Wyldon of Cavall," she said, referring to the previous training master. She looked up at him. "You'll do well, Alan. You have more patience than I did—do," she corrected wryly. "I have one piece of advice for you, if you care to take it. Gary told me that we were instructed to take plenty and keep our mouths shut." She looked at him, obviously uncomfortable with such an open display of affection and emotion.
Alan grinned. "Is that some affection hidden there?" he inquired jokingly, his laughing eyes resembling his father's as he teased his mother, just as his father was prone to do.
Alanna laughed. "No, no affection—I'm just glad haMinch has to deal with one of the dreaded twin terrors instead of me!"
Alan laughed with her, remembering fondly the nickname awarded to Aly and himself by King Jonathan after they had broken into his study at the tender age of five and glued his books shut.
His mother had placed a small, calloused hand over his own. He nodded at her, understanding the expression in her glittering violet eyes.
"May I come in?"
The voice jolted Squire Alan of Pirate's Swoop out of his contemplative reverie. At his sides, he heard the movement of his friends, Lucas of Meron and Julian of Nond. He spun quickly on his heel, hand flying immediately to the dagger hanging at his waist as he caught sight of the figure standing just outside the room, leaning casually on the door jamb. His mother displayed her empty hands for him to see, her violet eyes dancing with mirth as Alan coloured a faint pink and dropped his hands.
"I see Raoul trained you well," she teased. "May I come in?" she repeated.
"I doubt I could keep you out, Ma, even if I wanted to," Alan responded dryly. "You know Lucas of Meron and Julian of Nond?"
Alanna the Lioness nodded, grinning slightly at the glazed expression in their eyes.
Alan rolled his eyes at his friends. "She's human, you know."
Alanna scoffed. "Of course. I never thought I was invincible."
"You still do, sweet." A voice came from behind Alanna and she turned, placing her hands on her husband's chest, glaring at him.
"Da, Ma, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Alan asked formally, winking at George.
"None of that, lad," George said, hazel eyes twinkling. "Now greet your mother."
Alan obediently crossed the room to stand in front of his mother. Before he had the chance to bow, she held him in an iron grip. George shook his son's hand and said, "We've arrived to sit vigil while you undertake your ordeal."
Alan nodded, having suspected as much.
"I'm to instruct you with Raoul following the bath," his mother told him, gripping his hand. She suddenly turned to his friends. "Would you excuse us, please?" As they left she turned to her husband. "George, why don't you go and find Jon and talk ex-King to present-King?"
George rolled her eyes. "Subtlety never was her strong suit," he told his son. Chuckling he nodded. "Alright, lass, I'll leave you be."
As soon as the door had been closed over, Alanna walked to a chair and drew it up. Sitting down, she groaned, her hand flying to her back. Alan looked over her, concerned. He remembered that his mother was approaching her late forties. Already there were lines of age, weather and experience at the corners of her mouth and eyes and a few streaks of grey lined her copper hair. His open hazel eyes met her brilliant amethyst eyes. He recognised the frustrated look in them immediately. "You're as bad as your Da," she grumbled half-heartedly.
Alan filed this knowledge away for later, when she was more open to teasing and blackmail. He caught sight of her hand reaching for his again.
"Careful, people might think you're going soft, Lioness," he said.
She grimaced. "I don't like hearing my warname from my own son," she said. "Sometimes I wish you and Aly were still the babies you were, wreaking havoc at every turn, playing tricks on poor Maude, hiding from the nursemaid and giving your parents more grey hairs than every battle we've fought." She grinned at him.
He grinned back. "You loved every moment of it, Mother dear," he said shrewdly.
Alanna winked. "Goddess help me, I did." Her expression turned sombre. "I wish I had been a better mother to my children, Alan." She paused. "Particularly to Aly."
Alan shook his head. "Aly's always been determined and somewhat rebellious," he said, catching his mother's raised eyebrow. "You're both so strong-willed. You'd never reach an agreement without dampening one or both of your wills. It wouldn't be right."
Alanna sighed, smiling sadly at her son. "Gods as my witness, the day the son grows wiser than the parent."
Alan shook his head. "When it comes to knighthood, to taking lives and healing, Ma, I think you're one of the wisest around," he told her. "Out of everyone, you understand the value of human life."
Alanna surveyed her son shrewdly. "It sounds like you do, too."
Alan shrugged. "It happens, being the son of the King's Champion." He grinned at her. "Let's face it, Ma, despite your longing for a Lady Knight daughter, I was always the one who could fight with a sword." He stifled a chuckle as he remembered some of Aly's early mishaps with a practice sword, including the time she'd accidentally cut a large chunk of her own hair off and, as she grew older, her attempts to get out of learning fighter's craft, including the time she'd locked herself in the cellars.
Alanna's expression bewitched him. "I would have loved it if my daughter followed the path I did. But I knew long ago that you were the twin that was destined for a warrior's work, just as I was." She swallowed heavily. "I'm sure it's no secret that you and I were always closer than others, just as Aly was with your father." She took in a deep breath. "It took me time to realise it. Where Thom and Aly find it impossible to relate to me, you have always understood the sense of duty of a knight and never tried to create the perfect mother out of me." She smiled crookedly. "You're like your Da in that way. He was the only one to accept all of me."
Alan nodded. He had always been aware that his father regarded the Lioness with unconditional love. He adored her and always had.
"Did you know that when I disguised myself as a boy at the palace, I was called 'Alan'?" Alanna spoke suddenly.
Alan nodded silently. It was in that moment, as he looked back over his past experiences with his mother that something finally felt right within him. He felt as though he'd resolved an inner battle that he'd been fighting for years, trying to forge a connection with others, with his uncles and aunts, his grandparents, his father, trying to ignore his mother. Every time she'd left, he'd felt a sting of pain, as his siblings had. Where they had resented their mother her constant departures and her stubborn and prickly nature, he had found a connection through mutual love of fighting, honour, duty and a similar humour.
Approaching her, he enveloped her in a hug.
She laughed, thumping his back. "All right, young Squire. I understand you're quite the hand with the blade? I take it I won't have to disown you."
Alan grinned at her. "Let down the famous Lioness in her field of expertise? How dare you suggest such a thing?"
As Alan stumbled out of the Chamber of the Ordeal, his knuckles bruised and bloody, his lip sporting a throbbing and bloody hole from where he'd bit it through, his eyes wide with pain and fear, his mother rushed towards him, gathering him up into her arms, for all he towered over her by a head. His father was close behind, resting a large hand on his son's shoulder as his other hand wound itself into his wife's hair, offering her silent support.
"Congratulations, Sir Alan of Pirate's Swoop," Alanna told her son.
Later, at the official ceremony, Alan knelt before King Jonathan. The King struck him thrice with his blade, twice on the shoulders, hard enough to bruise, once on the crown of his head, a light tap. "You are dubbed Sir Alan of Pirate's Swoop, Knight of the Realm of Tortall," King Jonathan announced clearly. "Serve honourably and well. Remember your vows of service and chivalry to the Crown."
The room erupted into applause. Alan looked around, his eyes seeking out his family and friends. His friends from the palace stood off to the right, clapping and cheering. To the left he caught sight of his extended family; Sir Raoul and Commander Buri of Goldenlake and Malorie's Peak; Sir Gareth and Lady Cythera of Naxen; Prince Roald, Prince Liam, Prince Jasson and Princess Lianne; Numair Salmalin and Daine the Wildmage, clutching their children, Sarralyn and Rikash; Sir Myles of Olau, his wife Eleni. Overhead, King Jonathan and Queen Thayet smiled broadly as they clapped for their godson. Alan caught sight of his brother Thom, beaming and grinning at his younger sibling. Next to him stood a familiar face. Alan's jaw dropped open as he ran to embrace his twin sister, Alianne Crow, Spymaster of the Copper Isles. He heard the crowd laugh.
Stepping back, Alan watched as his parents approached him, beaming proudly. His mother held a covered shield in her hands. As his father removed the cover, Alan's eyes were drawn to the bright device on the shield, the device of Pirate's Swoop. His mother helped him slide the shield on his arm. "Gods all bless, Sir Alan of Pirate's Swoop," she whispered, kissing his cheek as his father's large hand came down on his shoulder and he was engulfed by Thom and Aly's well-wishes.
Thanks for reading. I don't know if there's much of a Tamora Pierce fanbase here, but if you read, please review!
Acelinn.