Disclaimer: Yeah. Right. While you're at it, thinking I own all this, would you please bring me a beach chair, a good book, and some kind of colorful alcoholic drink with an umbrella? As well as the beach, of course – preferably somewhere in the Caribbean, although I wouldn't say no to a beach in the Mediterranean. Yes, thank you! (For those of you who HAVEN'T figured out by now, I have an odd sense of humor and this is my way of saying – it's all Tamora Pierce's, goddamn genius that she is!)

Author's Note: We still haven't met Faella, so you have no idea what kind of a wrench she's thrown into things. I promise, though, it's not a pretty wrench. It's big and oily, possibly rusty. evil grin I'd also like to take a moment to continue to thank my reviewers! You guys are amazing. Now, on to the scheduled programming. It includes some nice happy fluff for all of you!

Alanna continued to wander, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jon – and therefore Faella. She saw and chatted with many people she knew, but each time she couldn't wait until the conversation was over. Damn being short, she thought.

Finally, the crowd parted as if drawn on puppet strings. Caught up in the sudden movement, Alanna found herself standing on the edge of a wide aisle-way. Walking up it in a slow stately fashion was Jon with a girl on his arm.

Damn! Alanna thought. Faella was not only younger than she was, but she was also the kind of woman who made everyone in the room – even the other women – look long and hard, drinking in every detail. In her slight imperfections – the proud arch of her nose, her diminutive stature, breasts too large for her size, and the smattering of freckles across her face – she was perfect. Worse, Alanna realized, she was perfect for Jon. They complimented each other like night and day. She was as fair as he was dark – her soft blonde curls, large greenish-blue eyes, and tiny frame were the complete opposite of him.

Damn it to hell. She doesn't know how to make him groan with pleasure and desire; she doesn't know that he has a weakness for chocolate. She has no idea how to it feels to hear him call out your name in a crowd and feel the connection you have with him.

But the small voice in her head continued. She could never keep up with him; she's too fragile. She'll require so much upkeep, while all I need are the clothes on my back and a sword in my hand. She's been protected and mollycoddled all her life – there's no way in hell she'd understand the relationship that I have with Jon.

-----

"Jon, tell me honestly. What did you think of her?" She noted his hard-on, wondering with an odd detachment who had brought it about.

"She's beautiful," he whispered.

Alanna felt the tears rising, the horror close behind. "Is that all?" she said, voice stony. "Is that all you're going to offer me? We've been together for so long, Jon. That's it?"

Jon bit his lip, the realization hitting him. "Alanna, no! I love you. I-I – She can't replace you, Alanna. She never will. She's stunning, but she could never compare to you. Your hair – and your eyes… No one else I have ever met has understood me as completely as you; no one else--"

She cut him off. "Damn it, I wasn't fishing for compliments! If you really want to explain how much you love me…" She pulled him in, bringing his head down to hers and kissing him hard. Just as suddenly, she pushed him away, breathing hard. "Look at me. Do you love me? Because as much as I love you, I will not change for you."

"Alanna – I – No. I mean, yes. No, no. I--"

Alanna allowed a slight smile to cross her lips at his utter confusion. "It's a simple question, Jon. All you have to do is say yes or no."

"Yes, Alanna! Gods, yes!"

"Then show me," she replied, kicking off her shoes and peeling off her stockings. He helped her with the fastenings of the dress, and she slid out. "I love you too, Jon."

"I love your dress," he breathed into her ear, "but you look better without it."

-----

The next morning, Jon was once again called before his parents. Alanna stayed behind, cleaning and polishing her armor, chain mail, and weapons.

When he returned, she asked eagerly, "How was it? What did they have to say?"

He plopped down on the bed, rubbing at his forehead with one hand. "That bad?" she inquired.

"Yes. She's young, pretty, feminine, she has a big dowry, she brings a peace agreement, and, as if that's not enough, she knows how to consort with other nobility. My parents tell me that it's time I give up seeing you and start courting someone proper, in the proper way. Gods, she's probably a virgin," he shuddered.

"Might I remind you that I was a virgin when you met me?" she replied, a slight tone of mocking in her voice.

"You also can survive on your own; you don't need a man to hold yourself up."

"True," she responded, "I'm glad you've finally realized that!"

He shook his head, taking a moment before speaking. "Alanna, I don't know how we're going to manage it. They're in love with her, with all that she brings to Tortall. I'm sorry. I want to marry you, but I don't know how we're going to be able to pull it off."

"Jon, it's simple. Propose to me in the most public, most romantic, most sappy way possible. I shall respond in an equally public, romantic, and sappy way. I'll wear a low-cut gown and stick my chest in your face, and then we'll go and dance the night away at whatever ball there so happens to be."

Laughing, he pulled her closer, kissing the tip of her nose. "That's my Alanna. You always have a plan."

"Oh, haven't we talked about this enough? I'm not your Alanna! I'm my own Alanna, thank you very much. And have a nice day, while you're at it." The banter between them was easy and as natural between them as the tides are natural to the sea.

He tugged her onto his lap. She fell back against him, tilting her face up for a kiss. "Oh, so you're not my Alanna? Then why should I kiss you? Shouldn't you be off kissing your reflection in the mirror?" He acquiesced anyways, gently kissing her lips.

"No tearing my clothes off, Jon!" she warned as they parted for breath. "For now, we have to at least pretend to act appropriate. After all, your mother wants you to marry an appropriate, dainty woman."

Jon trailed small kisses down her neck. "Alanna…"

She tilted his face back up to hers, kissing him slowly, opening her mouth in response to his tongue. "We really do need to talk about what we're going to do," she said.

"Well, I'm going to have my way with you right here, right now, on the floor. Then you're going to go see a tailor and we are going to find you a maid. Of course, you're going to have to keep practicing with Singer, lest they forget that you're a knight."

"Mmm… When you put it like that, it makes sense."

-----

"Lady, what about this?" The seamstress brought out another shade of blue semi-sheer fabric.

"I've told you, I do not want a blue sheer dress!"

"Yes, Lady."

A few moments later, she returned. "Is this more to your liking, Lady?"

Alanna eyed the (once again blue) silk. "That is closer to what I was looking for."

"Wonderful. Let me show you some sketches."

Alanna sighed and sat down in one of the chairs. She had been at this shop for nearly an hour already. Mistress Irena Ivanova was highly recommended by many of the ladies at court. Alanna though that she had an odd love affair with blue and/or sheer fabrics.

"Now, Lady, shall we take a look at these?" She spread sheets of fine parchment out over the table. Each was filled with a sketch of an elaborate dress. They were in a variety of styles – from full hoop skirts to skirts with only petticoats under them. Bodices were cut low to the point of being nearly scandalous, or with high necks.

Alanna sighed as she looked over the patterns and said, "What do you suggest?"

Author's Note: Hopefully you all enjoyed the little bit of fluff in the midst of all the problems brought on by a certain princess. )