AN: This was inspired by a Russian Poem, "Last Love," by Fyodor Tyutchev. The entire world of Tortall does not belong to me. It belongs to Tamora Pierce, who I don't think appreciates the true power of first or true loves.
The years had no been kind to Alanna of Trebond, Olau and Pirate's Swoop. She had seen the death of many friends and loved ones. Her husband, 10 years her senior had passed to the realm of the Gods eight years ago to the day, and a hole still ate through her heart. The years of battles and injuries had finally took their toll on her body, and she was now beyond healing. Her blood ran thin, and she knew that these newest wounds would never heal, and soon, soon, she would join her husband in the realm of the dead. But first, first she must say good-bye, good-bye to her first love, her greatest love, her last love.
Though she had been faithful to her husband, and had loved him dearly, she had never forgotten those days of pure bliss early in her life. Her dear prince and master had taken her entire heart early on, and he had only returned a small piece. She gave all that was left to her husband and her children, but there was always that missing piece, yearning for something she could never have. She knew that it would never have worked. She couldn't have been Queen. Her quick temper would have endangered the country and brought countless wars. She could not think of the people first, and she could not, just could not share Jonathon. And that is why she gave him up, because in the end, their roles in life conflicted.
For twenty years she served him faithfully as King's Champion, and in many ways she was more important and more content than any alternative. In the twentieth year her husband died, and everything changed. Jonathan came to her with the news. They had been in Carthak on a diplomatic mission, and his heart had failed. There was nothing he could do. Before he even had a chance to react George was dead. A piece of Alanna's heart broke with the news. She stumbled forward and was caught in Jon's embrace. She clutched him tightly for hours, sobbing uncontrollably. Her tears ceased, but her hold on Jonathon stayed strong: the moment she lost contact, she'd loose herself and the world. The hours turned into days, and although Jonathon lest occasionally, he was the only person allowed in her chambers. Finally, on the day of the funeral she emerged, strong as ever, but still with Jon near. Her children came to her, and she gave them a strong smile, and from that day on, no one saw Alanna's grieving: no one but Jon.
Not a year later Thayet followed George to the grave, and Alanna became the supporting figure, even if it was closer to codependency. They comforted each other in their times of need, and soon remembered what they had never really forgotten. They spent their hours together and to everyone's horror, Alanna took up residence in the palace in Corus. For any other knight this would not be extraordinary, but everyone knew of her dislike for court and all of its intrigues. Tongues wagged and people watched, but very little of what was said was indeed true.
For six years they lived happily together comforted by the enchantment of their last love. Wars came and went, and as always, Alanna and Jon were at the forefront of the fighting: inseparable, until one day not long ago. Jon was called to a meeting in Carthak, and Alanna fighting in Tusaine. It could not be avoided, though both members wished to be together.
She didn't even notice the enemy's sword graze her side. It was an ordinary wound, just like many others she had gotten over the long years before. The battle ended, Tortall won the war, but Alanna would not live long. When she returned to her tent the wound began to bleed more, and to her horror, her gift would not stop it. She knew this would happen eventually. She had been coming immune to healing for some time now, but she didn't think so small a scratch would be her end. Of course, it wasn't that little, and she had just won an important victory, but she wasn't ready, she needed to see her first love, her last love one last time. The healers bandaged her wound. They gave her two, maybe three, days, and hey sent for Jonathon. With all haste he returned to Tortall, and despite all advise, Alanna left her bed, and began to travel south. A day and then two past. She feared she wouldn't make it.
Somehow they both knew where to meet. It had been many years since anyone had set foot in the Black City. All was silent except for two sets of footsteps walking toward one another. In the eerie shrine, where so many years before Jon had learned Alanna's true identity and the young teenagers first proved their worth, the two met. After three days of hard travel, the two old knights fell to the ground in each other's arms. As they wept they shared their first kiss in over thirty years. A moment later Alanna's eyes closed forever, and her mortal body was at peace. Jon's tears ran smoothly down his face as he placed on last gentle kiss on her lips, before he too passed into the other realm.