Right. First I'd like to say thanks for the reviews! So thanks!
Anyways, this fic is going further than I thought it would go. At first it was just simple, short m/m slash, but hey...you know me. Nothing is ever simple or short with my fics. :D
I'd just like to say that the red-haired, purple-eyed mage in the last chapter is Thom. You guys need to reread Lioness Rampant, or some bits of it, at least. Delia dared Thom to bring Roger back. Which is what he's doing in this chapter. It's insane, this chapter, but then, it's supposed to be. However way you read it. Insane. It's not supposed to make much sense. This is Roger-after-death we're talking about, remember?
Giovanna


Voices. Voices everywhere.

Where?

There. Right above his head - to the left of him, to the right, behind him. But all above. Was that possible? Dim voices. Why are they so dim?

Darkness. Why was it so dark? And cold? Stone pillow under his head... The funeral march ran through his mind. The haunting notes wafting to his supposedly dead ears, to be imprinted in his mind forever. It was for him. All for him.

But no crying. No tears were shed at Roger of Conté's funeral.

Why didn't they cry?

He thought he was dead. They all did, but him especially. Her. Demon newly made knight. Red hair - violet eyes - low voice.

That voice.

There. The one above. The one straight above his head, muttering incomprehensible words, words which reeked of raw power.

It hurts! he wanted to scream. He thought it instead, thought it as hard as he could as he shifted in his bed. No bed, he realized, freezing. He used numb senses to feel what exactly he was lying on. Stone. Cold stone. Stone pillow. Stone.

It's a crypt. The realization was immediately followed by pure horror. Something - some part of him was writhing; his mind? His body was attempting to shudder and shake, but it was so cold, so stiff, unused for such a long time that it couldn't. Hardly. Because with every arcane word muttered above his head, he felt more...alive.

I'm not dead! I never was! A ruse - Sorcerer's Sleep, that's what it is, not death. Never death. A trick so I could return and kill them! Kill them all!

The muttering was steadily getting louder and clearer. Through his eyelids, he could see a violet illumination. It flickered as he struggled to open his eyes, mentally screaming at the pain.

He couldn't do it. His body wasn't responding. If he had gone whole and well, snapping out of this death-like sleep would've been easy. But there was this gaping hole in his chest, not to mention numerous wounds on his shoulders and arms -

No. There aren't.

That violet illumination was now under his skin. It breathed life into dormant muscles, healed wounded tissues, burned out the Sleep. Lungs demanded air - he filled them obediently, gasping as they painfully expanded, then contracted again.

Another word with a stench of power was uttered. Wincing as he flickered his eyes open, he managed to distinguish the color of the magic.

Purple. With a tinge of orange.

Trebond. Mine.

With eyes which were adjusting rapidly to the dimness of the room, adjusting to use once more, he saw his savior. Red haired, violet-eyed Thom of Trebond, his short, stocky form shining with sweat. Why, even his clothes were sticking to him; a mild inconvenience the mage ignored as he completed the spell with a harsh Word of Power.

With a gasp, he stiffened, his back arching from the cold stone as something was ripped out of him. Orange. Orange magic. His Gift was fleeing his body, swirling in the air for a brief second - and then it was gone, united with the stone of his crypt. Information flooded his mind as he relaxed his limbs, taking deep, regular breaths to calm his now rapidly beating heart. Dolls/Queen under water/Alan of Trebond broke into private workrooms/trial by combat/illusion/double sword/attack/run through/Alex away/Delia a witness to /Alex and Delia mourning/Delia convinced Thom of Trebond to bring me back/me/Roger of Conté/him - her, Alanna of Trebond, friend of Alexander of Tirragen/Alex/awake, alive!/

And Roger began to laugh.