Author's Note: You know what's tough? Making sure that all the characters are there…and themselves. Props to Tamora Pierce for sticking with them.

This chapter, this whole fic is straying far from my original idea. Hence why it has taken so long to update.

Chapter 10: Expectations

December 439 H.E.

"She did what?"

"Lady Patrice of Fenrigh is her sister-in-law. And she told my husband's niece, who told me."

"No!"

"I cannot believe it!"

Alanna rolled her eyes as the ladies about her gossiped. To her right, Thayet kicked her gently as she did when Alanna was too blatant about her disapproval. However, Delia of Eldorne noticed the red-head's expression and smirked.

"Our petty female chatter below you, Your Majesty? Perhaps some male company would suit you better?"

"Lady Delia, I'll have none of your tongue," Alanna snapped. Delia took great delight in making witty remarks alluding to the rumor that Alanna was male.

"I apologize, my Queen," Delia pretended docility, "I hope that they have not offended you so much you wish to duel me."

Buri, seated to Thayet's right, stood up. "Lady Delia, the queen said stop. That does not mean you are allowed to continue your tirade. We've all heard your claim to want to duel the queen acting as Champion."

Delia frowned and bowed her head over her embroidery. Alanna shook her head as the rest of the ladies fell silently and hurriedly to work. Slowly, conversation returned little by little. Delia remained silent. Since Alanna's installation as queen, Delia of Eldorne had slowly begun making more and more jests—rude—but she had never been this frank. Alanna sighed; she was getting a headache from staring at the tiny stitches.

Like an answer to her prayer, Jon strolled in the room. "My ladies!" he cried, smiling at the circle of ladies-in-waiting. All of them rose and curtseyed to the king, who gave a little bow back to them before making a bee-line for Alanna.

"My love," he said, leaning over to kiss her. She smiled at him. He held out a thick cloak for her, matching to the one he wore over his shoulders. "Come for a walk with me?" Alanna followed him outside, leaving the women to their gossip and sewing. She tucked her arm into the crook of his elbow as they wandered out to the palace gardens now covered with the first frost of winter. Yawning, she sat down on a cold bench and leaned back. She closed her eyes.

"Sleepy?" Jon teased.

"Exhausted. I hate tea time. You do have impeccable timing." She opened one eye to look at him, but then shut it, preferring the dark.

"It's only taken three months to perfect."

Three months—Mithros, that's how long we've been married, Alanna realized. One month since the coronation. A month ago, Alanna looked at her future with a bleak eye. The Goddess' warning and her fury over detail had made her reign as queen look very unhappy, but so far, she had survived. She and Jon were getting along wonderfully—well, mostly.

After her "cycle" had ended, she and Jon had gone to bed together as husband and wife. And it was supremely awkward. They were much too polite towards each other, avoiding the thought that was there as plain as day—there was no real desire for each other. They talked afterward, and frankly. And for what felt like the hundredth time to Alanna, they professed that they do not love each other. Yet, this time, the awareness that they share no love seemed to have healed the rift more than increased it.

Alanna found herself so confused as to the turmoil of her life. From one moment, she was crying with exasperation at her own stupidity and then she found it to be decent. She didn't delude herself that this wasn't exactly what she wanted—but she can live with it. The fickleness—so unlike her—scared her, but she kept that fear hidden, for now. She knew it would resurface again. Instead, she focused on her alliance and friendship with Jon.

Which was good, because there was plenty else to cause troubles for them individually and together. Alanna took to heart what George had said about her drum-beat, and had refused to wear dresses except at court functions where she was to act solely in the role of queen (tea-time was the only daily one where she wore a gown). She ordered many pairs of fine breeches and hose, and many new tunics and doublets—fit for the King's Champion, and Jon agreed. The Council had had a fit over this—and the nagging quadrupled.

She now heard lectures on the need to be queenlier and to follow good Queen Lianne's example. The lack of gowns and skirts on her seemed enough to give them all internal organ failure, what with how they launched into her about her wardrobe. They also urged her to give up her weaponry practices—which had become daily and extensive—though they could not argue against her logic that as Champion, she must be ready to defend the King's law.

But the real root, the real reason the Councilors hounded her, the real message behind all the lectures was: make babies now. Alanna had yet to take off her anti-pregnancy charm—though she and Jon did not lie together often. Jon had yet to broach the subject with her, though she knew he wanted to.

"Three months, Alanna."

"Three months…" she repeated, not really listening to him.

"Three months is a long time."

"Mhmmm…" she agreed, letting her head droop back.

"Three months is long enough to wait. Soon, people will be expecting something."

"What sort of expecting?" Alanna asked vaguely.

"You expecting."

Alanna sat up a little straighter, but did not open her eyes. If she didn't see his lips form those words, maybe it wouldn't happen.

"Alanna…"

"Jonathan." She kept her eyes closed. "You promised we wouldn't try to have children until after a year."

She heard him sigh as he dropped down on the bench next to her.

"I know."

Silence descended on the royal couple. Alanna could feel it, almost as if it were sitting heavily on her stomach. Jonathan wanted something. Finally, she opened her eyes. Jon's gaze was locked on her throat, where, on a fine gold chain, hung her ember-stone and her anti-pregnancy charm. She clutched it, self-consciously and his eyes met hers. The color hadn't changed in his eyes; they were still the same beautiful sapphire she knew. But the depth of them was different. Becoming Voice of the Tribes had made them deep, but becoming king had made the well in his eyes wider. He was trying to take everything in at once, but despite his aptitude and determination, the pressures of royalty were starting to get to him.

"Alanna…" his tone was begging.

She rolled her eyes, trying to prevent this conversation. "You say my name so often, you'd think I'd forgotten it."

Now he rolled his eyes at her.

She sighed, knowing she couldn't fight the inevitable. "What do you want?"

"I know we said we would wait a year for children, but we… I don't think we can."

"Why not?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from sounding sharp.

"We need something. To show the people progress. They need a sign."

"You think that my having a baby is going to make people stop believing that your reign is cursed?"

"It's worth a shot."

"Whose idea was it?" Alanna asked, expecting to hear one of the names of the cross bothersome windbags that cornered her weekly.

"Mine, actually."

She just stared at him. Of course it was his idea.

"It's not like that," Jon protested. "It's not something I've discussed with anyone! It's not so I could get you into bed! I just thought that maybe, if we had a son, sooner rather than later…"

"People would see that you're not cursed, because, 'oh, look at how quickly his wife had a healthy baby, and look, there's already an heir. How could he possibly be cursed?' I suppose it does make a revolution harder if there's two royal males to dispose of," Alanna said coolly.

"Because then, it'd be done, and you wouldn't have to worry about it later!" Jon exclaimed. Alanna watched her best friend and husband. He'd taken into consideration her opinion. It was touching. "I mean, yes, those other things are true, and I did think of them. But it does matter to me if you're okay with it."

Gently, Alanna took his hand. Carefully, she caressed his hand, tracing her fingers over the lines of his knuckles and the creases where his fingers bent. Jon stayed quiet, leaning his head on her shoulder. She just sat there, thinking. Once or twice, a courtier or servant wandered by, and quickly ran away from the intimate scene. Alanna knew that being caught like this would do wonders for the myth that they were hopelessly in love with each other.

However, she pulled her thoughts away from the shows they had laughingly put on, of Jon's calling her silly nicknames, of how they'd stroll hand-in-hand, disgustingly romantic, through the corridors until they'd turn a corner and fall over each other giggling. Now, as she held her husband's hand, she thought of a child, a baby. Could she bring another being into this world? She felt that she could be brave enough, but she wasn't sure if she were the right person for the job. How would she be as a mother? Would she, who had almost no feminine bones in her body, raise a child the right way? Would her child hate her? Would her child be miserable? Would she be the worst mother ever?

Probably.

Well, look at me, she thought. I turned out all right. Even with Mother dead and Father just as gone and Thom being Thom, she hadn't turned out awful. But then, she'd found a home in the palace, and a make-shift family. She'd found a father in Myles, a mother in Eleni, sisters in Thayet and Buri, brothers in Jon, Raoul, Gary (and George, she thought stubbornly). She hadn't done so bad.

The thought of her mother dying in child labor caught her breath for a moment. Suppose she, too, was not strong enough to survive labor? No, she thought. She was stronger than that. Her body was in the best shape of her life, thanks to her daily rigorous exercises. That would be the one way she could not fail. She hoped.

She owed Jonathan. She had been so needy throughout their entire engagement. The least she could do was be selfless this one time.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?" asked Jon, who had fallen into a doze on her shoulder.

She took a deep breath, as if there would be some form of gaseous courage mixed among the air she was inhaling. "Okay, we can try for a baby."

She heard Jon's great gasp, but didn't look at him. She still held his hand in her own, and he grasped hers tightly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Is this what you want?"

"No," she said shortly. "But it isn't about what I want anymore."

"Sweetheart, you have to be ready." Jon's voice was gentle.

Alanna raised her eyes. "I'll never be ready, not the way you'll need me to be. I think being a knight, or even being a queen is easier than being a mother. I don't know how to do those things. I know how to be a knight and I know I can learn to be a queen. But a ma?"

"You'll be wonderful. And I've heard it comes naturally."

"That's what is so tricky. No matter what I do, it'll happen. I'll get as big as a house and out pops the baby. I can't control it. It's the first thing I've done to myself that I can't control. And it terrifies me."

She really tried not to cry, but somehow two fat tears leaked through. Jon wiped them away with his free hand.

"I'll be here for you. Always."

"I know," she said. He brushed the hair away from her face, his hand trailing from her temple to her jaw, and then the side of her neck, just below her ear. "Don't go any lower," she whispered.

"What?" came his startled reply.

"You were going for the anti-pregnancy charm. I know you, sire," she said teasingly, breaking the moment.

Jon withdrew his hands and held them in the air. "I have no idea what you are talking about. I was going for your breasts," he teased.

She glared at him. "Just because I agreed, does not mean you can lug me up the stairs and have me now."

"We should do it before you change your mind," he argued.

"No." She shook her head. She didn't want to now.

"Please?" Jon was laughing, so she knew he wasn't serious. He was just as reluctant to go through the awkward phases of love-making with her, as she was with him. "I'm going to bother you until you say yes."

She sighed. He was like a dog with a bone in his jaw. Now that she'd promised to be open to children, he'd never let it go.

"Tonight, then."

"You mean it?"

She elbowed him hard so that he almost fell off the bench. Grinning, she jumped up and ran away, hiking up the skirts on the plain brown gown she wore.

"That's no way for a queen to behave," called a miserly old lord that they almost ran over. Alanna gave no heed as Jon gave chase, laughing. With his longer legs, he soon caught her up. He snatched her off her feet and swung her about in a circle, spraying snow everywhere. Finally, after much protestation, he set her down. Dizzily, she stumbled back into his arms to hold her up. With her arms about his waist, and his arms clasped around her back, the couple stood laughing and panting.

"You…" started Jon, but was forced to stop because he hadn't caught his breath.

"What?" Alanna asked teasingly, looking up at him.

When their eyes met, Alanna felt something go through her. Her breath caught in her throat as Jon's eyes locked on hers. She was suddenly so aware of his body against hers, the way their laughter moved through both of them in a similar rhythm. She could feel his heart pounding through his clothing. She watched, as if time were frozen, as Jon gulped. Slowly, a tingling began in the pit of her stomach and traveled lower.

Before she could fathom what this was, Jon dropped his head and their lips met. Alanna's eyes drooped closed of their own accord and she found herself clutching him closer, wanting more…something she was not used to wanting. For the first time in a long time, she desired physical nearness to Jon…

She pulled away at that thought, her mind still reeling. Merciful Goddess! What had just happened? They stared at each other, Alanna considering kissing Jon again.

"Well…" said Jon, running his hands through his hair.

"Well," agreed Alanna.

"Shall we…?" Jon asked, eyes mischievous. Alanna was sore tempted—Goddess knew her body suddenly had regained desire for her husband-but it confounded her. For months, she had had no appetite for him. Where had this sudden change come from? Talking about having a baby together didn't create desire. Alanna knew she wouldn't have tried childbearing if she didn't have to. Finally, she shook her head 'no.' Jon gave her his best puppy-eyes, but she still refused. He grabbed her and pulled her against him, flush together. Alanna felt the new, yet old, bewildering desire build in her, and she probably would have allowed him to carry her up the stairs and into their bed if Gary hadn't chased down Jon.

Alanna walked away from the men and headed towards the stable. She wanted to groom Moonlight and get her head on straight. She got to the stables, walking at a brisk pace. She was both disappointed and grateful that Gary had dragged Jon off to another signing thing. What was wrong with her?

She entered the stable and found no one there, not even Stefan. Moonlight nickered when she saw her rider, tossing her beautiful mane over her shoulder. Alanna grabbed a brush and began to stroke her beloved horse slowly, just the way Moonlight liked it. Carefully, she brushed until every single hair lay flat and smooth, and the horse gleamed. Alanna was tempted to jump on and ride away, gallop until these confusing thoughts fell behind.

Why this sudden return of affection for Jon? She had expected that for the rest of her life, she'd love him as her best friend and closest confidante, and long for George. It was strange to think that she had developed (redeveloped?) attraction to Jon. Maybe she had just been delusional. She checked her heart rate, and found that it was normal. Maybe she'd just imagined it. It struck her as funny that she was worried that she was attracted to the only man she was supposed to bed.

Oh, well, she thought as she reached for Moonlight's saddle, bridle, and reigns. I'm just being ridiculous.

She heard a crunch of footsteps behind her, but didn't turn around. It was Stefan or another hostler. She was surprised she hadn't seen anyone around. Usually the place was bustling.

She felt the presence of someone standing behind her, but she ignored it. Chances were, it was someone else come to stare at the knight-queen. But they never said anything as she saddled Moonlight. She left the stall to stand in front of her horse, and offered the horse sugar, flattening her hand so not to be nipped by the eager horse.

Then, someone was against her. Strong arms went around her waist as she pulled into the front of whoever it was. She tensed and was about to step on her assailant's foot when she felt a warm breath in her ear that sent shivers down her spine.

"Relax, Lioness. It's just me."

"Jon!" she gasped, surprised. It was as if her thoughts had summoned him. But she was annoyed that he had snuck up on her. Surprise faded, and then anger took over. "How dare you sneak up on me!" She whirled to face him and found herself flush with him again. Just as quickly as the surprise had disappeared, so did her anger. And in its place was that scary, new, old, hot desire.

"Are—aren't—aren't you supposed to be…doing…something?" she stuttered. She tried to avoid his gaze, and found herself staring at his lips and wishing they were closer.

"Maybe."

"Then why—" she tried to ask. But he leaned further towards her, and at the contact her words were silenced. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, but he veered left. His voice, soft and warm, made the flesh on her neck shiver deliciously and caused the air current near her ear to move.

"Tonight."

Abruptly, he stepped away from her. She stared at him, still speechless. He winked, then tucked his hands into his breech pockets and walked away. She heard his faint whistle as he left the stables and she could see from the window him speed up and run back to the palace.

Moonlight nudged her, probably looking for more sugar, but it seemed as though the horse was asking her a question. Alanna didn't have an answer.

My question is: will you please review? Thank you!