Disclaimer: All characters belong to Tamora Pierce. I do not own the lyrics.
Set during The First Test (Protector of the Small)
"This is a story of understanding you can't choose who you love."
– Burning Bridges by Chris Pureka
King Jonathan IV of Conté ran a hand roughly through his hair out of frustration. Lord Wyldon had left shortly after Alanna had stormed out. He had no doubts about her parting words. She would stay far away from Corus as long as she was forbidden contact with the young Keladry of Mindelan. He sighed and shook his head. One of the many problems that came with kingship was the impossible task of trying to please everyone. The royal training master of the pages had a point. Allowing Alanna contact with the girl would cause a cloud of doubt to surround the situation. Scandal followed Alanna everywhere. Ever since the day her real gender was revealed, rumors and disbelief became her constant shadow, always nipping at her heels. No matter how many times she proved her worthiness of her shield, her dedication and loyalty to the crown, and her ability to wield the weapons of a warrior people still saw her as a fluke. They deemed her the result of a conspiracy between pages and squires to help her become a knight. They called her the evidence of the gods meddling in the affairs of mortals. Jonathan resented that. Alanna fought for Tortall, she bled for her people, and she risked her life to bring them glory. She was a hero, yet she was still subjected to ruthless scrutiny by most.
The king looked down at the circlet in his hand that he had removed from his head earlier. Whether he was wearing the formal crown or just a simple circlet, it was a constant reminder of his station. Looking at it now, still a little numb with shock at his champion's angry words, he remembered a time when he wanted her to be his queen. He was young and subject to the yearnings of his heart. He reminisced about the mornings he would wake up with Alanna in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He remembered the sting of rejection when she refused his proposal that day in the desert. He had loved her. He still loved her, but he was older and wiser now. He had grown up. He had to. Their youthful love had grown into a fierce friendship and loyalty between a king and his knight. He had put his pride aside and accepted that while he loved her and she loved him, she could never be his queen.
Alanna was a free spirit. She roamed to the far corners of the land seeking adventure. She would not be confined by the restrictions that came with being a monarch. She would not be comfortable with ruling any more than the people would be comfortable with her. She represented the dawn of change, a change that the people of Tortall were not quite ready to accept. Wyldon was evidence of that reluctance to transform. She had known that before he did. She had never let her feelings overrule her common sense. She knew she was the face of controversy and often the subject of court gossips. Yet she stood firm. She fought for the people who scorned her just as fiercely as she fought for her friends.
She still held a place in his heart. He loved Thayet dearly, but Alanna would always be his first. She was one of his closest friends. She had fought battles side by side with him. She battled the Ysandir at his side. She was there waiting to catch him when he left The Chamber of Ordeal. She was there when he became king. She was his sword arm. She had fought battles for him, in his name, and in the name of the crown. She was his light. Temperamental as she was, she made him laugh when no one else could. She reminded him that love came in many forms.
He watched out the window as a horse and it's rider galloped away from the palace walls. Copper hair flew as the hood was pushed back by the wind. The king followed the figure with sharp eyes until it disappeared in the distance and then turned back into his study, a wry smile on his face. A queen she would have never made, but a Lioness, his champion, and Tortall's hero she would always be.