A/N: Thank you to Kris Eleven for the title of this story, cheerleading me through it, and most importantly for giving me an hour in which to write this. I think we went over, but not by much.
This story is written for the Tamora Pierce Experiment Autumn BINGO challenge for the 'travel' prompt. I hope you all enjoy and maybe decide to come join? The link is in my profile!
He was cold. King Jonathan of Conté pulled his cloak more tightly around his shoulders, tucking the ends firmly under the edge of his saddle. His hands were nearly frozen, pale and bloodless, and he was shaking. Shaking, Gary frequently reminded him, was not dignified. Nor was tucking in the edges of his cloak, but he'd done that with pleasure, eyeing his Prime Minister, riding in his periphery.
Gary frowned but didn't say anything, and Jonathan hid a smirk. "Cold?" Jon turned to his wife. Thayet, riding on his right, looked nothing less than perfect in a thick cloak lined with fur. Her dark hair, topped with a simple golden circlet, spilled in inky curls over the light brown fur of her collar. Her lips, slightly darker red than usual due to the weather, curved in a smile. Jon sighed. She looked warm.
"I'm fine," Jon told Thayet quietly. He glanced ahead, at the squad of King's Own sent on as scouts, and then behind, where the Grand Progress rode behind him and his Queen. "Will this never end?" he murmured. It was too close to winter for his comfort, and they still had a long way before they reached the blessedly warm palace.
"The Progress?" Thayet asked. "Or the cold?"
On a lesser man, Jon's expression would have been considered a pout. "The cold," he replied.
"If it makes you feel any better, there's someone who is enjoying this even less than you," Thayet murmured.
"I doubt it." But he caught the look Thayet tossed over her shoulder, and turned in his saddle to see who she meant. "Gods," he breathed, and almost smiled.
Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, King's Champion, was riding a few lengths behind Thayet, next to her husband, George, Baron of Pirate's Swoop. If Jon was cold, Alanna was already frozen. All that he could see under the pile of blankets and cloaks wrapped around her was a shock of red hair and her violet eyes, staring at him unwaveringly. Jon could almost hear her blaming him for the weather.
His gaze switched to George, sitting easily on his gelding, hands resting on the pommel. Like Thayet, he didn't look cold at all. But Jon could see the worry for Alanna underneath his calm exterior. They'd known each other too long for Jon not to notice the plea in his friend's eyes.
"Enough!" Jon called, voice carrying easily enough to his King's Own commander, Raoul of Goldenlake, who turned his mount. Raoul didn't say anything, but Jon saw his eyes flicker to Alanna, too. He struggled for a moment to get his hand free of his cloak, ignored Gary's look of exasperation and Raoul's snicker when the tucked in folds got in the way, and held up his hand to halt the Progress.
Things moved fairly quickly after that, and before long, Jon swung down from his horse. He helped Thayet down, though at this point, all he could really do was brace himself and let her do most of the work. He tried flexing his fingers and winced. Too cold.
Jon could see through the open flap that someone had already lit the brazier inside, though it wouldn't throw off much heat for a while yet. Wistfully, he turned away from the tent, searching for his friend. He finally found her and walked briskly to her side. He felt a blast of cold air under his cloak when he moved and shuddered, reaching out to Alanna.
She turned, and Jon could finally see her face, no longer obscured by blankets. Her eyes, always vivid, were dull, like she was ill. Her hair was mostly covered by a woolen cap, but tendrils escaped and floated around her face in the breeze. Her lips were the same color as her face, and Jon could tell she was struggling to act like she wasn't frozen to her core.
She still fit under his arm perfectly. Jon tucked her under his cloak and walked with her to his tent, making sure the flap came down behind them, shutting them in with the heat slowly rising from the brazier.
Alanna sank onto the pallet next to the brazier, and Jon sat beside her, pulling her under his arm and cloak again. She shuddered against him, and he wished, not for the first time, that they were back at the palace. Jon took one of Alanna's hands in his, but she pulled back, frowning.
"Trying to warm my hand when yours is just as cold won't do either of us any good." Her reply was soft and didn't hold as much bite as she probably meant it to, but Jon dropped her hand and just held her close. He rested his chin on top of her head, frowning when he felt the seam of the cap she still wore.
In a quick move, he swept the cap from her head and dropped it. "My ears are cold," she complained, but made no move to reach it, only burrowed her face deeper against his tunic.
As the tent grew warmer, Jon felt his fingers lose their stiffness. Alanna wasn't shaking anymore, but Jon could feel her fingers on his arm through his shirt and knew she was still cold. His eyes began to close, and he leaned back slightly against a trunk of clothes, resting his weight there while he kept his arms around his friend.
He didn't wake when the tent flap opened, admitting Thayet and George. The flap fell shut behind them, but neither of them made a move toward the King and his Champion. Thayet felt George's hand on her shoulder, and she looked up at him, not bothering to conceal the emotions clouding her face.
As her eyes met his, she knew she didn't need to hide anything. George knew. "Shall we find a tent for ourselves, Majesty?" he asked, dropping his hand, and Thayet grinned, taking hold of the arm he offered her.
The next morning, the Progress continued, with both the King and his Champion more tightly bundled than the day before. There was still a long way to go before Corus.