So… here's the new chapter. Hope you'll like it. By the way – very, very please review.

Some of you said Roger = no Jon. As I said I disagree, what I say is no Alanna = no Thayet.

See disclaimer in previous chapters.

Thom the younger of Trebond flattened the blue coat around him. His red hair was combed with water for the occasion and Lightning hung by his side. His uncle was out there, waiting to introduce him. He heard voices through the half-shot door.

"Your Majesties, I am here to get you to bless my adoptive son, Thom the younger of Trebond."

"Let us see him," said a man's voice. Thom knew that was the signal. He could come out now. He was about to run his fingers through his lengthening hair, when he thought better of it. Then he went out... and wished he hadn't. Everybody had their eyes turned towards him.

"Come on, Thom," he muttered to himself. "Just get it over with." He went to stand witt his uncle. "Uncle I hate parties," he whispered.

"That is not something you should be saying in the precense of their Majesties."

"There are so many things I'm not allowed to do here."

"You are so like your mother." Uncle Thom sighed. "This is my Thom," he said to two people sitting at the high table. Thom looked up and caught a set of eyes as saphire blue as his own. He fought the urge to look away, and when the man let his Gift examine Thom, he threw it away, stubbornly.

"There sure is Trebond blood running through the child's veins," he said. "Who was his parents?"

"He is the son of my dead brother Alan," Thom the elder said. Thom was confused. Who was Alan? And wasn't he the son of Thom's sister, Alanna? Then it dawned to him... Alan/Alanna. No noble girl was allowed to become a warrior. His mother had dressed like a boy to become a knight! So Alan and Alanna was the same person. The king looked at him, caught by surprise.

"I want to speak to the child alone, get him to my library."

Thom went in. Even under the warm, embroidered coat he was trembeling. He was scared. Something told him this was going to change all of his life and give him a whole lot of duties he didn't want. In a big chair, with his back turned to Thom, the king sat. The chair turned and blue met blue in a stubborn stare, which Thom refused to break.

"We both know Alan is a lie," the king said, loud and clear. This confused Thom. No matter what he'd expected, this wasn't it. He just nodded. "Alanna was your mother?" This shocked Thom even more. He hadn't known his mother's real name until just lately. And even then he thought only his uncle knew that there had never been an Alan.

"Yes, sir," Thom muttered. His stubborn jaw was set as he looked at Jonathan of Conté. "I mean Your Highness... No, no, no, no – Your Majesty," he corrected himself. "Pardon me, but I wasn't brought up to know court- life." He felt he could be completely honest with this man – the king. He didn't know why, he just felt connected. "And to be honest with you it doesn't iterest me. I sleapt through the few lessons uncle gave me." To his surprise the king laughed. But as he laughed it began sounding fake – just like it had with Sir Raoul of Goldenlake. Thom was surprised to see a tear glimpsing in the corner of Jonathan's eye. Thom let his hand touch the stone he'd fastened around his neck. Even though his mother could not be there to support him, this stone felt like a part of her... and a part of something bigger. "What?," he said apologetically, as he realised the king had spoken to him.

"I asked you if you know who your father is?" The expression on the kings face was unreadable. His eyes – so like Thom's – seemed far away, lost in the past, his jaw – like Thom's as well – was as stubborn as ever.

"I don't know," Thom muttered.

"Would you like to know?" What a weird question! But... Did he want to know. He had the feeling the knowledge would take a part of his freedom away, but... he also wanted the truth. When he didn't answer the king looked more examining at him. "You are afraid to know the truth because it's already dawning to you. I knew you mother in quite an... intimate way. Not anything I'd like to talk to you about until you grow older, but..." The king's trail of words stopped. Thom could see his pain – almost feel his pain. He stopped himself. He shouldn't feel the kings pain. He remembered how much it had hurt to loose his mother – all just because he'd let her get close. He pushed the pain radiating from Jonathan of Conté away and looked at him again. The intimate way? It slowly dawned to him, ike it had with his uncle. He felt no surprise, none at all.

"You are my father!"

Short and actionlees I know, but I'll make up for that next time. See you in next week-end.

Danie.