All Shall Fade
Disclaimer - I own nothing from from the wonderful world of Tamora Pierce, except for my own characters.
Pairing - Jonathan x Alanna, with AJ and JT as well, and a tiny but of BR
Poem - The poem/song at the begenning of the fic is from The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Pippin's Song. It also does not belong to me.
Rating - Teen
Warnings - Character Death
Suammry - They loved each other in life, and now shall in death. AJ, CD. Happy Ending! Includes George, Thayet, Kara, Raoul, Buri, etc.
Home is behind
The world ahead
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadow
To the edge of night
Until the stars are all alight
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall fade
Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Oula stood beside her King, face impassive. Jonathan was weak; years of hardship had taken their toll on him, on her. Secret meetings in abandoned rooms, small touches, subtle glances. Thayet and George had never expected a thing; they both loved their respective partners too much to even begin to suspect that they were still in love, still together.
"You are ready," Jonathan whispered, his voice snapping her out of her thoughts. Alanna looked down at Jonathan's young apprentice, a Bahzir boy, the son of a chief. He had been brought to the Bloody Hawk Tribe several months before to receive training to become the Voice of the Tribes. This had been a sad time for her and Jonathan both, for they both knew that Jon would die during the rite of the Voice, and Alanna with him. Though neither had the ability to see into the future, Jon had seen his own death during his Rite, and with his, hers.
"I am?" The young boy, no older then seventeen asked, looking up at the regal face of the old King.
"You are, Jamal," Jonathan told him. "Go and have some fun before the Rite, which will take place next week."
"Yes, Voice," Jamal said, bowing out of the large tent.
"He'll be good to the Bahzir Jon," Alanna said, handing her lover a glass of wine.
"I know," he sighed, pulling Alanna down beside him. "I wish I had more time to say goodbye to the children, I haven't seen Kali since last midwinter," he said, changing the subject.
Alanna made a face, pushing her grey streaked hair out of her lined face. "Thom's going to blame himself," she whispered, referring to her eldest son, who was now a parent himself. "Alan's going to lock himself in his rooms for days, and Aly is, no doubt, going to do something rash."
Jonathan chuckled slightly, pulling her even closer to him, so that her head was on his shoulder. "And George?" He asked.
Alanna grimaced, "I do not know," she admitted. "And I'm not sure I want to."
"My children will be fine, sad, but they know that I'm not an immortal, but I worry for Thayet, she'll no doubt blame herself, like your Thom will."
"We should have told them," Alanna snapped, getting up and preparing for bed, Jonathan followed, and they fell into bed together, holding each other tightly.
"We couldn't have dearest," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, his now snow white hair falling into his azure eyes. "We couldn't have."
Jonathan raised his hands, his voice strong as he chanted. The language was ancient, left from the time when the Bahzir lived in stone buildings on the other side of the inland sea. As when Jon had endured the Rite, Alanna couldn't understand the words, but she could feel the power wash over her, and could see it cover Jonathan and Jamal.
Her lover raised his hands once again, a dagger she gave him flittering in his right. "As the Gods will, so mote it be!" There was a clap of thunder as he drew a long gash in his forearm, parallel to the one he had received in his own Rite.
Jamal was opening a similar would in his own arm, and Alanna could see the young man wincing slightly. The two men that she loved, one with her life, and the other as a third son, reached across the flames and gripped arms tightly.
"Two as One," Jonathan chanted, his voice strong to everyone around him, but Alanna could hear his fear.
"Two as One," Jamal repeated, his voice softer.
"Two as One and Many," Jon continued, his voice becoming slightly weaker. Alanna could feel herself becoming weaker as well, as she was using her magic to keep Jonathan, who was dying, alive for the rest of the ceremony. Alanna knew that she would end her life by doing so; she would give up her life-force so that he didn't die before the Rite was completed.
"Two as One and Many," Jamal repeated, shivering. The flames where now higher then either of the men's head's, glowing white with Bahzir magic.
"One as Many," Jonathan cried out, his life-force spent, he was relying only on Alanna's, which was quickly fading to nothing.
"One as Many," Jamal shouted, his voice high and filled with pain. There was yet another clap of thunder, and a high pitched scream. Then there was silence that was only broken by a dying woman's rasping breath.
Alanna fought to breathe as she sagged against Kara and Kourrem, who were, as with Jonathan's Rite so long ago, standing on either side of her. She knew that Jonathan was dead, or at least nearly, and as in his vision, she was near death as well. She heard Kara yell for help, and Sandi, the new tribe healer's voice shouting orders.
"Alanna," Kourrem shouted, cradling the older women's head in her lap as Kara and Sandi examined their friend and mentor. "Alanna, hold on!"
"Her life-force is gone," Sandi said, her voice and face blank. "As is her magic."
"That's impossible," Kara shouted, distraught, surprising the tribe, Kara was the calm one! "She can't be gone, she just can't!" She collapsed sobbing on the sand, gripping the dying woman by the hand.
Alanna fought to stay conscious, though she knew speaking, or even moving, was now beyond her. She needed to hear what Jonathan's fate was, if he had stayed alive long enough.
"The King?" Sandi asked, her voice thick with tears.
"Gone," came a new voice, one that Alanna recognized as Kourrem's daughter, Ani. "He has traces of magic on him though, besides his own and that of Tortall and the Bahzir, it was purple in colour."
Tandem, the new headman nodded, tears flowing down his face. "She sacrificed her life so that Jonathan would be able to finish the ritual," he whispered. He fell too his knees and picked the much loved woman up in his arms, cradling her as though she was a very small kitten. He carried her over to Jonathan, and fit her small hand in his larger one.
"There," he croaked, looking around at the Bloody Hawk Tribe, coming to a rest on Jamal, who was being supported by two warriors if the tribe. "They loved each other in life, and now shall in death."
Raoul of Goldenlake ran out of his chambers, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He had just come from The Moment of the Voice, and had been shocked to the very core. It was not Jonathan, as he had expected, but a new Voice, by the name of Jamal. And he had received horrifying news. Jonathan was dead. Alanna was dead. Two of his best friends, who had been perfectly healthy when they had left for the tribe several months before, were gone.
"Thayet," he shouted, barging into the Queens social room, where she was conversing with his wife, Buri, and their friend Gary.
"What's wrong my friend?" Gary asked, coming over to him.
"It's Jonathan and Alanna," he said, panting for breath. There was a time where he could run around the castle several times without becoming tired, but that time was not now.
"What," Buri demanded, being the first to find her voice. "Was the Bloody "Hawk attacked?" She asked, coming over to her distressed husband.
"No," he said, his voice cracking. "They're gone."
"What do you mean gone," a new voice demanded as George stormed into the room. "What do you mean Goldenlake?"
Buri led Raoul over to a chair, where he collapsed, putting his head in his hands. "When I joined with the Voice it was not Jonathan, it was a boy named Jamal," he took a deep breath, ignoring the feel of eyes fixed on him. "He told me that Jonathan had been training him these past months, and Alanna had been helping. He told me that he was made the Voice of the Tribes last night, and Jonathan and Alanna both where taken by the Black God."
Raoul's story was greeted by silence, which was only broken by George's sobs.
"How," He demanded, looking over at Raoul from where he was sitting.
Raoul's voice was now blank, as shock set in. "Jonathan wasn't able to live through the Rite of the Voice on his own, so 'Lanna sent him her magic to keep him alive, but it ended up taking her life-force as well." He took a breath, ignoring the sobs of George and Thayet, and not noticing the tears flowing down both Buri and Gary's cheeks. "He died first, right after the ceremony, when the responsibilities of the Voice where passed on to Jamal. Then Alanna died right after they moved her, several minutes after the Rite was over." He looked up at his miserable friends. "Neither of them suffered."
None of then new how long they sat in the room, comforting each other in silence, when Thayet stood. "I have to inform the children," she sobbed, walking out of the room quickly.
George stood as well. "So do I," he said, his voice thick with tears. "Thom will be in the library, Alan in the training yards," he composed himself, or at least tried to. "And I have contacts in the Copper Isle, Aly will know soon."
He walked out as well, his grief visible to all that saw him.
Two Months Later
"I still wake up ever morning thinking that she's already awake and terrorizing the servants," George whispered hoarsely, his arm over his sobbing daughter's shoulders. He and his children, and grandchildren, where at Alanna grave in the underground tombs. The tombs where traditional for Royalty, but Thayet had insisted, claiming that there would be no Royal family if it weren't for Alanna, and she was right. Alanna had saved all of them too many times to count.
"I still expect her to spring out of the shadows, challenging me to a duel, which she would no doubt win." Alan said, smiling slightly through his tears. He was holding his month old daughter, named after his mother, Alanna.
"Or a magical duel," Thom said, kneeling at the foot of the tomb. "She always won those as well."
"I miss the arguments we would always have," Aly admitted, barley able to speak through her sobs. "She could never admit that she was wrong."
"Mommy sad?" A small voice asked. Aly bit her lip, bending down to pick up her three year old daughter.
"Yeah sweetheart, mommy's sad."
Claire looked around the dark room, tilting her head to the side. "Where Gramma?"
That simple question caused sobs to erupt among the family assembled there once more. "Gramma's with Uncle Jon darling," Alan choked out, then seeing his niece's questioning look added, "Gramma's with the God's."
"She happy?"
George smiled at his granddaughter, taking her from her mother's arms to cuddle her himself. "Yes baby, she's happy." He straightened up, smiling a ghost of a smile. "Now come, we need to ready ourselves for Uncle Roald's coronation."
"They'll be fine dearest," a tall man with shoulder length white hair said, coming over to a woman of about the same age, though her hair sill had hints of the fiery colour it once was.
"I know," she said, leaning against her love. "I know."
Author's Note - Thank you all so much for reading! Now do me a tiny favor and press the blue/purple button (I say blue, some people say purple) and drop a review, even if it's only one word, or saying how much you hated it!
Chione