*This is a re-edited version *
Hi everyone. Finally got the second chapter up, so there you go, Tiffany. To anyone who was confused about Alanna being royalty, well, I don't really know the answer to that either. Let's just say she is, and leave it at that. Laira of Masbolle (anonymous) – Delia was being seen through Jonathan's point of view, and since he was practically infatuated with her in the TP books, (though I don't know how…) I added a bit of that in here. Raven (anonymous) – In my little fic world, Jonathan isn't dead, even if Alanna is royalty. I could never kill Jonathan…(or could I?) Read on… Chapter 2Empty.
That's all he was feeling now. There had been rage, anger; he had shouted a bit, when he'd found out, used a few words he wouldn't normally use in his mother's presence. But he knew, all the while, it wouldn't change anything.
Jonathan was going to have to marry the Princess of Lower Tortall.
Now he had used up all his anger, and there was just a funny empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. Jonathan had first pondered over telling his friends about it, or his cousin, Gary. But they wouldn't understand. They didn't understand what it was like to carry the burden he had; they didn't know the responsibility he had been born with.
Oh, sure, it was fun sometimes, with all the power, and the money, and the girls. But that wasn't all. Jonathan had known that one day it might come to this, an arranged marriage, for the good of the kingdom, the bloody kingdom.
Jonathan couldn't help but wonder why they wanted this so early. He was still only twenty-one, still young, and still able to find a suitable wife for himself. Why were they so eager to get him married off?
That was why he was here, standing at the top of Balor's needle, just thinking. It was a private place he liked to come to, just to be alone. He ran a finger across the even grey stone, enjoying the touch of cool wind, and watching as the last rays of sunlight peered over the horizon, setting a fiery red glow on the castle walls.
Jonathan gazed over the edge, the smooth walls plunging down vertically to the ground. He wondered momentarily what it would feel like to fall down that distance, to hit the dirt at that speed. The young Prince leaned over as far over the ledge as it was possible without loosing his balance, feeling the wind blow his dark hair into his face. He shut his eyes and inhaled deeply, the crisp air feeling fresh and clean in his lungs.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, even if he didn't love her. He could make it work; it wasn't impossible. But Jonathan knew he wouldn't be happy, not like that. He wanted what his parents had, he could see how deeply in love they were. Why couldn't they give him that chance?
He wondered if Alanna's parents had told her yet. 'Probably not' he thought contemptuously. Jonathan didn't hold much respect for the King of Lower Tortall. He was a cold and uncaring man at times, caring more for his work than his family, much like his son Thom could be.
Jonathan's clear blue eyes swept over the grassy landscape, spotting a small figure on a golden horse galloping into the woods, becoming smaller and smaller. Soon he would be just a black speck in the distance.
The Prince squinted his eyes, trying to focus more clearly on the rider. There was something decidedly familiar about the rider's stance and size. Could it possibly be Thom? And why would he be riding out on his own at this time?
But the horse… Thom's horse was a plain tawny brown colour, boring, Jonathan had thought, as Thom was. But this horse was beautiful, gold with a shining silver-white mane flying out behind her. There was only one such horse he had seen around these parts recently that looked like that.
There was no questioning it. That horse was Alanna's, and the rider had to be the girl herself.
Explanations and reasons for her strange behaviour began to run through his head immediately. Maybe she had decided to go on an evening ride… Maybe she was visiting a friend out here… Hell, maybe she was just plain strange!
But there was one explanation that was nagging away, and to Jonathan, seeing the heavy luggage that was tied on to the horse, it certainly seemed the most plausible.
Alanna had found out about the arrangement, and was running away.
Jonathan wondered if this should offend him, he certainly felt mildly offended. But this wasn't the time to think about that. If she was running away, he would have to go after her. If he didn't, and if something happened to her, his family could be blamed causing a war between the two nations.
As Jonathan leapt down the rickety old steps two at a time, he wondered if Alanna was extremely stubborn, or just extremely stupid. Why didn't she accept it? Why couldn't she accept it? He had. He had to.
Jonathan's favourite hostler, Stefan, looked up in surprise as Jonathan dashed into the stables at high speed, calling for Stefan to quickly saddle his horse. Stefan obeyed, not asking questions, because he knew if the Prince wanted to tell he would, and in this case, he seemed to be in too much of a hurry to say anything.
Darkness was saddled and ready within minutes, neighing impatiently, and kicking his hooves on the stable door, eager to get out for some exercise. Jonathan leapt on to the saddle, quickly thanking Stefan as he let open the latch on the stable door, before galloping out after the small red head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alanna gently stroked the soft, golden hair along Moonlight's neck, listening to the rhythmic beating of her horse's hooves along the grass floor. It was strangely calming, and Alanna felt her anger at her father, and at the world in general, ebbing away slowly.
She felt it might have been slightly rash to leave the palace on her own, knowing full well the sort of dangers that lurked in the forest around this time. Feeling slightly paranoid, Alanna used one hand to pull her hood up around her flaming hair; it was very recognisable, and as a princess she could easily be kidnapped and held for ransom for quite a bit of money.
She let Moonlight drop her gallop into a slow trot, allowing the mare some rest. The poor horse must have been very worn out, first riding all the way from her palace to this one, and now, Alanna was riding her back again, only a few days later.
Alanna glanced around, wondering how long it had been since she had left the palace. The light that had been earlier filtering brightly through the trees had dimmed, and she felt the forest become eerily silent.
She began to feel a strange chill of foreboding, shivering slightly although it was not cold. Alanna always followed her instincts, and her instincts told her something was wrong. 'Of course,' Alanna thought, 'it could just be my mind playing tricks on me.'
Alanna heard a rustling of leaves, and her head snapped to the left, searching the thick camouflage for a moving creature, human or otherwise. Her hand crept toward the dagger strapped to her leg, lifting it up; it glinted sharply in the weak light.
The shuffling was getting closer, and Alanna prepared herself for whatever might come through the curtain of leaves.
The head of a black horse poked through the bushes, and Alanna pulled back her arm taking aim, only to see the last person she expected riding atop the black horse.
Jonathan, who had a very stricken look on his face, seeing the dagger and thinking she might just be angry enough to throw it at him.
Alanna dropped her arm, breathing a sigh of relief, though she still couldn't shake the feeling that something still wasn't right.
"For a moment there, I was sure you were going to-" Jonathan started.
Alanna saw the sword descend from the trees a second too late. Her eyes flew open in shock, and she opened her mouth to scream a warning. Jonathan's expression went from utter confusion to horror, twisting around in his saddle at the last moment, causing the attacker to miss his target, drawing a gash down Jonathan's sword arm.
Alanna wondered if she'd ever seen that much blood in her life; the Prince's shirtsleeve was soaked crimson in a matter of seconds, and more of the glistening red liquid was flowing down his fingertips, dripping on to the ground below.
Jonathan fumbled with his sword in his left arm, the only arm which was able to be used. He made a few clumsy stabs into the tree, but seemed to be weakening too quickly from loss of blood to do anything substantial.
Alanna's hand was gripped tightly around the small silver dagger in her hand. It was her only weapon, and she had to get this one throw right on target. If the Prince died here, she knew it would be her fault. It hadn't been coincidence that he was in the same place at the same time; he had come after her.
Alanna closed her eyes concentrating, and let the dagger fly towards her target. Alanna was certain the scream of pain that came next would've been audible from miles around, and she knew that the would-be assassin would be dead before he even hit the ground.
The body fell to the floor with a loud crunch, but Alanna stayed on her mount for a few more seconds, making doubly sure there were no more killers lurking around. When she was certain there wasn't, she leapt of the saddle, and knelt on the ground by the body.
Examining it, she couldn't see anything too unusual about it, other then a strange insignia printed on the tunic, and on the handle of the sword. It was a picture of a snake, coiled around a stick of some sort. She couldn't make out what sort of stick it was because the area was stained with blood.
Alanna heard a soft moan of pain and whipped her head around, seeing Jonathan slouched over on his horse, desperately trying to keep silent, though she could imagine how much that wound would be hurting.
Alanna realised her folly as soon as she saw him. Jonathan was at the moment more important that finding out who had sent the assassin, if he died because of her selfishness, which had very nearly happened, she would never forgive herself.
Thinking quickly, Alanna helped Jonathan off his horse, and on to her own, assuming that Jonathan's horse knew the way back to the palace. She tore wide strips from her petticoats, wrapping them firmly around the Jonathan's heavily bleeding wound. Then she too, jumped into the saddle, holding her arms around the Prince's weakening body, and pushing Moonlight into a full gallop towards the royal palace.
By the time Alanna got to the palace, Jonathan had fainted, slumping forward on the saddle. That worked for Alanna, seeing as it was incredibly awkward having her arms wrapped around him like that, even if he was incoherent and in too much pain to care.
"Please! Someone help! He's bleeding!"
Alanna called out desperately for help. She had no idea what to do when someone was hurt, other than bandaging the wound. She had already done that, but it wasn't helping. The bandages were red and heavy, and she wondered just how much blood they had soaked in. She placed a finger gingerly on the outside of the bandage, to check out bad it was, wincing when it came away smeared with red.
A cluster of palace guards came rushing towards them, one of them barking orders to the rest. Alanna knew what a terrible sight they made. Jonathan, with his clothes soaked with crimson, and herself, half splattered in his blood.
The guards rushed in, taking over, pulling Jonathan's limp form off the horse and towards the palace infirmary. Alanna followed wearily, after convincing a few persistent guards that no, she wasn't hurt, and no, she didn't try to axe the Prince.
When she got to the palace healers, she was met by more questions, and after she had finally answers to their satisfaction, she was shooed away. Apparently she would give the Prince a heart attack if he woke up and saw her like that. All she wanted to do was see if he was all right. So much for that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first thing Jonathan saw when he came to was the fuzzy face of Duke Baird. Blinking his eyes to help everything clear into focus, Jonathan pulled himself into a sitting position, wondering why he was here.
The chief palace healer held a hand on to Jonathan's forehead, testing to see if he had a normal body temperature. The action irritated Jonathan, as he felt he was perfectly fine, and didn't need someone fussing over him like a mother hen. However, he chose to remain silent and let the healer get on with his work.
The throbbing pain in his right arm brought all the past events rushing back, and he wondered where Alanna had disappeared. She had saved his life after all, although, if she hadn't been there, he would never have had to risk it in the first place.
"Where did- where did Alanna go?"
Jonathan cringed in disgust at the sound of his voice. Was he really that weak? One knife wound and he had fainted like a baby.
"Don't worry, your Highness. You've lost a lot of blood. You're lucky to be alive. Don't think yourself weak because you fainted."
Jonathan wondered how the healer had known exactly what he was thinking. Perhaps he had seen his expression, or perhaps he was just very perceptive.
"And as to the Princess," the Duke continued as he bustled around, putting away this and that, "she was sent away to clean herself up."
"Why, what happened?"
"Poor girl," the Duke said kindly, "she was half drowned in your blood."
"My blood?" Jonathan hung his head in his hands. Why did stuff like this always happen to him? He was supposed to marry this girl, and he goes and splatters his blood all over her.
Jonathan started to push himself out of the bed. He had to go and talk to her. At least to thank her. As soon as he had put two feet on the ground, his vision began to swim and he staggered forward. Two gently hands guided his body back onto the bed.
"Jonathan, you're still weak, don't try anything rash."
"But I have to talk to her, she saved my life!" he protested.
"Well then," the chief healer suppressed a chuckle. "Go on ahead, she's right here."
"She's what?" Jonathan gaped in surprise, and embarrassment, though he immediately covered up with a curt 'hello.'
Duke Baird smiled, and left the room, allowing the two some privacy.
"Er…hello." Alanna replied, feeling horribly awkward, and wishing she hadn't gone against her better judgement and decided to come back.
"So…" she paused, searching for something interesting to say. "How are you?"
Well, that was great, she told herself, great question. He'd only been almost killed by some psychopathic assassin in a tree; of course he'd be just fine.
"Fine." Jonathan suppressed the urge to say something sarcastic. "I'm fine."
"This is stupid." Alanna burst out suddenly, after a few moments of silence.
"What is stupid?" Jonathan looked up at her blankly.
"This!" Alanna gestured wildly at the space between them. "Beating around the bush like this."
"Oh," was all he could say.
"Look," Alanna turned her back and stared into the medicine cabinet, examining the various labels. "The man that tried to kill you today, he had an insignia on his tunic, and on his sword. It wasn't anything I've seen before, and" she continued hastily, seeing Jonathan open his mouth to interrupt.
"I know, I don't live here, but my father made me study about this land thoroughly before we came." A wry smile crossed her face. "Now we know why I suppose. But that's not the point. The point is," Here she took out a piece of paper with a rough sketch on it, and held it out to him. "This was it, a snake coiled around a stick, although it was blurry and I couldn't tell exactly. Do you recognise it?"
Jonathan shook his head, looking blank once more. "No, not even from somewhere foreign."
"Exactly," Alanna took to pacing around the room, as if to get her thoughts in order. "What I'm saying is," she whirled around to face him once more, "what I'm saying is, someone from a special gang, a specially formed group, is out to kill you, is out to kill us."
To tell the truth, I really didn't like the beginning of this chapter at all.
By the way, is Duke Baird married to the Queen or King's sister? Or is he just called a Duke for the fun of it?
And I welcome suggestions, and constructive criticism. Anything to make this fic better.
I really should be doing my maths… ~ Lyra