A/n: alright, I really need some ideas after this chapter…help!
Jon heard George pacing his study. Then the pacing stopped, and was replaced by weeping. Jon's guilty thoughts constantly tormented him, reminding him that it was all his fault. He sat frozen in his chair, his gaze boring a hole in the elegantly carved table. The King reached for his now-cold tea, but accidentally knocked it over. Oh well, he thought miserably. What does it matter. What matters at all anymore.
(A/n: I know, it's a little depressing)
Near the Scanran border, a precession of nobles, healers, and loyal Tortallans headed towards Pirates Swoop. Among them was an unconscious Alanna, being carried in a wagon. A healer was with her, having to change her bandages every couple hours. Now and then she woke up, crying feverishly for Jon, George, Raoul, Gary, or Myles.
"Poor lass," muttered one of the healers. "She just had to go save that village…"
Jon stayed awake for a long time, never leaving the chair where he received the news that his best friend, knight, champion, and one time lover was near-death, the whole time blaming himself. All of the servants thought he had lost his mind, and refrained from cleaning the Dining Hall that night.
When George woke up the next morning, cursing the empty spot in bed next to him, he realized that Jon had never gone to bed. With a yawn, he pulled on breeches and a shirt, and went down to check on the king.
"Don't blame yer'self, she may live yet," George ordered. Jon made no sign of response. George hauled him up and insisted that they practice sword fighting. Reluctantly Jon agreed, anger and resentment smoldering inside of him. He never stopped thinking about Alanna, his squire, his champion, his friend. She had saved his life many times. Dazed, he didn't realize at first that they had reached the practice courts, until George stuffed a sword into his hand. Quickly, they both assumed 'guard' stance. Jon started with quick chopping movements, then feinted a jab and cut left as George tried his best to parry and block the steely blur.
"Easy, Lad," he panted. "I'm no knight."
Jon dropped his sword and apologized.
"Lad, it wasn't your fault that Alanna got hurt. It's just what she does. She rescues people."
"If only we hadn't fought," whispered Jon. "I would have at least gotten a chance to see her, or say goodbye. Maybe she wouldn't have gone on this one particular adventure." he looked up at George, but the man's attention was on the road leading to the castle. A spiral of dust steadily came closer.
"Looks like company," commented George. "Jon…it's Alanna!!"