A/N – Right then, firstly; Thanks sooo much for all the impossibly awesome reviews! So glad people like this idea, and I'm now extra motivated to continue the story! ^_^

Secondly, I'll just point out that this chapter is s.l.o.w…but things will be picking up in the next one. These chapters are so much easier to write than ones for my other story, too (mainly because they're about 10,000 words less -_^), so hopefully the next chapter will be up soonish.

Enjoy!

***

Eventually, they made their way out into the hallway. Alanna had taken some of the clothes from the dresser, what she assumed were her clothes, and had begun to feel remarkably at ease. She made a mental note to get some similar silk shirts made when she made her way back to George and the Swoop; he'd like them, she knew that. She did to, if she was being honest with herself – they felt incredible.

"Alanna!" Jon hissed at her, and she realised she'd been trotting down the hallway without paying much attention. She gave him an almost-apologetic look, and focused once more.

"Where are we?" she asked softly; she had been slightly surprised at where they'd emerged – she hadn't recognized it as being a part of the palace.

Jon shrugged. "Probably the western wing. No-one comes up here much. Well, no-one did." He wasn't looking at her, his eyes instead directed at a wall hanging as they walked past it. "Was that-?" he stopped, peering more intently at it.

"What is it?" she asked, frustrated at his actions. They should be working out a way to get back, back from wherever this place was, not looking at hangings! She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when a servant scurried past them both. Somehow he managed to both run and bow at the same time, murmuring 'Your Majesties' as he did so. She frowned; she had realised before that being married to Jon would mean she was the Queen, but it was still a concept which she couldn't get her head around easily. And to think she'd been aggravated by the formality of the Swoop's servants only the day before! They were incredibly relaxed compared to these men and women. The man eventually seemed to fall around a corner and out of sight, still bowing, and she quickly turned to Jon. "Well?"

"Well what?" he responded, still glancing up at the hanging. He obviously wasn't quite as fazed by the man as she was – of course, bar her being his wife instead of Thayet, his life was still the same, it seemed.

"Why are you looking at that?" she pointed at the hanging, "Shouldn't we be trying to figure out what's happened?"

He finally looked at her then, a small smile creeping over his face. "Look."

Glaring at him for good measure, she didn't like being ignored; she slinked over to his side. "What is so important about a hanging, anyway?" she mumbled, staring up at the large piece of material. It seemed to be depicting a victorious knight standing over a fallen foe, sword at the fallen enemies throat. "So?"

"Look at the knight, Alanna." Jon sounded as if he was talking to a child. She almost hit him. Still, she studied the hanging more closely. The knight was helmeted, so she couldn't see a face or anything, though the armour was of a style she hadn't seen before. The knight seemed to be somewhat short, though, and that shield looked-

"Oh no." There was an all-too familiar embossing on the shield. A Lioness. "Why is there a hanging of me in the palace?"

"Well you apparently are the Queen," Jon shrugged again. "Makes sense."

"No it doesn't!" she shot back, before realizing that it probably did. Not that he needed to know that he was right, "That's crazy King logic." She mumbled under her breath, and Jon laughed softly. Something in the bottom of the hanging caught her attention, a little white panel which must have been added by the weaver of the hanging. She peered a little closer at it, noticing that it displayed the date on which, she assumed, the hanging was completed. She frowned, the date was a long time ago – in fact, in the real world it would have been almost twelve years ago; only a few months after she had gained her shield. "Look at this, Jon." She pointed it out to him.

"Hmm?" he moved a little closer to her so he could see it. "Oh. Look at that." He then paled, and quickly turned away from her, hiding his face from her sight. She frowned. What did that mean? He suddenly began moving off again, and she almost had to take a sprinting start to catch up to him.

"What was that for?"
"Nothing, nothing." He told her, "I just thought it might be best to get some breakfast. I know how cranky you can be if you don't get a good meal in you early on. And I certainly don't want to be stuck with an aggravated-Alanna all day if we're to try and figure out what happened."

"I'm pretty aggravated already." She mumbled, still puzzled over his earlier actions.

"All the more reason for you to eat something."

***

He'd avoided looking at her for too long as they made their way towards the Kitchens. She had thought about arguing with him over his choice of what they should be doing, but a few moments before she had planned to open her mouth her stomach had rumbled loudly. It was a little hard to try and convince Jon that she wasn't hungry when her body betrayed her so exceptionally.

"Here we are," he opened the door in front of them, and a wonderful smell of roasted bread and spiced wine floated through her head. "Let's grab something and find somewhere to eat."

She agreed with that idea, and quickly led the way. The servants were almost in awe of Jon standing in the midst of them – The King? Coming into the kitchens! – Until she realised she was probably playing a part in evoking that awe as well. At least she was able to grab some bread off the cooks without them lecturing her on 'the proper way things were done in the kitchens', something she remembered had always happened to her when she had come to the palace in recent years. A benefit of Royalty, perhaps? Or maybe just less uptight Cooks, she rationalized. "Come on, slowpoke." She whispered to Jon as he filled his arms with condiments. "It'll be time for lunch by the time we start eating."

"Not that you'd be annoyed about that." Jon mumbled back, "Never known you to miss a meal."

She affected an outraged look, hands on her hips. "Are you accusing me of being a pig?"

Somehow he managed to raise his arms in surrender, quite a feat considering how loaded down they were. "No, no." he spluttered, before a smile spread across his face. "You're more of a horse, I've always thought. A bad tempered, obstinate one." Some of the servants gasped in shock, one even laughed, but he was hit on the head almost as soon as he had done so.

A dangerous glint entered her eye, "What!?"

"You know," he replied as they moved out of the kitchen, a smile still plastered on his face. "You've got a nasty bite, you like stamping all over people and if anyone tries to use the bit hard you'll throw them off."

She maintained a glare on him for a while, but his grin was infectious. It was funny, most of all because of their situation. "You know me so well." She murmured to him as they made their way into the Dining Hall, plonking themselves down on one of the 'normal' tables. Something which, based on the lack of any response akin to the servants in the Kitchen, must have been a fairly common occurrence.

"That I do, Lioness." Jon smiled back, grabbing a roll and beginning to butter it. "So," he asked, "What am I then?"

"You mean apart from a slug?" she shot back.

He gave her an exasperated sigh, "But of course."

Shrugging, she gave it a quick thought. "I don't know. Maybe some kind of fish."

Jon choked on the mouthful of bread he'd just scoffed down, "Fish?" he looked across at her in disbelief, before sighing dramatically. "What did I ever do to you?"

"What, besides marry me?"

He glared at her. "That wasn't me."

"Oh right, so I'm actually married to Gary, then?"

"You know what I mean, Alanna." He replied, "I don't know what happened any more than you do. I didn't ask for things to be like this, so I don't appreciate you trying to vilify me."

She winced, he was right. "Sorry. It's just-"

"Difficult. I know." He touched her hand, resting on the table as it was, in a show of support, "But we've faced harder things than this. We can get through it together, like we've done before."

"I guess we can." She smiled. "Thanks, oh motivational one."

He smirked. "Want some butter?" She nodded, and offered her roll to him. He sighed dramatically, "You shouldn't burden your husband so."

"But what else are you good for?"

Jon thought for a moment, "Point taken."

She grinned as he did his job, slathering on the butter into her roll. He handed it across to her after he had finished doing so, and she made a show of inspecting it. "Hmm, sloppy work over here," she told him, pointing out where the butter was oozing out of the side of the bread. "Might have to work on your technique."

"It's just far too hard to please you, isn't it? I don't even know why I try."

She scoffed, "And like you're Mr. Accommodating?"

Jon rolled his eyes. "I'm easier to live with than you." He smirked, "George and me had little chats when you two would come to Corus. He had quite the stories to tell about you."

"Like what?" she asked her friend/husband. What had the two of them talked about, and why did the idea of George and Jon discussing her make her feel incredibly uneasy?

He gave a dangerously wide smile. "Oh, this and that. I believe there might have been reference to a certain incident around, oh, say last midwinter."

Alanna gaped; George told Jon about that?! Oh he was so going to…! Her good spirits of a few moments ago evaporated as she realised she might not be able to do anything to George again, not if they were to be stuck here. Wait- "Jon," she asked, "We should find out about George, too. Where he is, I mean." Almost slapping herself in the face for her idiocy, she added; "And the children, too! Yours and mine both." Something had to have happened to them; if she and Jon were married, then obviously hers' and George's were never even born. The idea was sickening.

Nodding softly, Jon too had lost the sparkle in his eye. Obviously he was somewhat apologetic that he'd brought down the mood by reminding them of their 'real' lives. "Yeah, we'll do that. We've got to be able to find a way back."

He sounded convinced, which was good enough for her to hold onto that truth with all her might. They had to be able to. But for now they would have to begin the search for answers, in both finding a way home and finding out more about this world – after all, they might be here for a while. She suddenly remembered her question about Jon's behaviour earlier. "Jon, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, go ahead."

She swallowed, "Earlier, at that hanging, why did you act the way you did?"

Jon had paled slightly again, thought it was a lot less this time. "Like what?" he asked, dumbly.

"Don't turn me in circles here, Jon." She warned, "Why were you so abrupt in taking us away from it."

He sighed heavily, staring down at the table for a moment. "It just-" he glanced up at her, "It just surprised me, that's all. I hadn't seen it in a while."

"Oh, ok." She answered automatically, "Wait- Hadn't seen it in a while? You mean it exists in…" she fumbled for an accurate term, "our real world?"

Jon nodded sharply. "Yes, it does."

"How?" she didn't understand, "Why?"

"It's in the north tower. Storage room."

"What's it doing there?" She asked.

"Being stored?"

"Jon," she warned, "Don't. Just tell me- why does it exist?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I can't even remember why I had it commissioned. It was before I went to meet you in the desert, when you were with the Bazhir."

"You commissioned it?" this was…unsettling. Being reminded of their respective feelings all those years ago – in a place where they were supposed to be married troubled her. "Why?"

"Like I said, I don't really remember." He replied, "Though I think it was supposed to be a gift to you – for when we returned as- Well. You know."

"As betrothed." Things slotted together in her head, "So in this world, when we did return as betrothed from the desert-"

"-I must have presented it to you, and had it hung in the western wing near our rooms." He took another bite out of a roll in front of him, "Makes sense."

She nodded, herself eating some more. Silence spread over the table for a while; in fact they could even begin to hear the talk of the group of knights sitting just behind them, not that she was particularly interested. A thought eventually sprung up in her mind, "How did the weaver know what I looked like?"

Jon shrugged. "She didn't. That's why there's a helmet on you. I told her about the height and the hair, I think."

"Oh." She frowned, "Maybe we could have another look at it again later."

He quirked an eyebrow, "Pleased to see yourself hanging on the palace wall then?"

"Not hardly. I just want another look at it." She replied. Why did she want to see it again? It made her uncomfortable, of that she was certain – reminding her of one of the most painful periods of her life. But there was something else there too, she knew. It was also…intriguing, or at least to an extent it was. What else was different about this world? What differences would her choices have made? She didn't have any regrets in her real life – well, that she could think of off the top of her head, but it was still interesting. She knew they'd be able to get back, so there was no real harm in wondering, was there?

Her reverie was interrupted as Gary breathlessly came running towards them. "Jon! Jon!" he panted, "Thank Mithros I've found you. I didn't think you'd be here, to be honest."

"Why not?" Jon replied, voice dripping with regal coolness.

Gary seemed startled, he'd obviously not been expecting that. "Oh, just-" he glanced around, "It's a bit…exposed, isn't it?"

"Exposed?"

Nodding, Gary smiled. "Oh, never mind though. I'm sure you'd be fine whatever happened. Anyway, we need to be getting organized to meet the Scanran delegation at midday, so if you're done here…?"

Taking the hint, Jon glanced across at her, a questioning look in his eyes. She smiled, "I'll be fine. I have things to look into, anyway." Jon nodded, and stood up beside his Prime Minister. "Have a good time!"

The two men just looked at her, before sharing a look, and walking away.

***

She was walking back to their rooms for the moment, attempting to learn the route off by heart. It's not as if she was worried that someone might be suspicious that their Queen – and she winced whenever she thought of that title – was, well, not their Queen. They weren't going to be here for too long, so she didn't particularly care. But it would be best to at least know where they were to be sleeping. Sleeping together, even. She frowned; perhaps it might be possible to get a second bed put in? No, that would cause too much uproar – the King and Queen having marital problems? Too many people asking questions…

Frowning, she stopped in the hallway. Things were a little more complicated than she'd first thought. She didn't particularly care if things in this world were changed by her actions, but she did care if there was such questioning of her actions that they didn't have enough time to find out a way to return to their world as soon as was possible for them. That would require drawing as little attention to herself. Well, as little attention as possible for a Queen, anyway. They'd have to play along, then. Of course, it was a lot easier for Jon – he was King back in the real world anyway.

What was a Queen supposed to do, anyway?

***

The wall hanging that she had discussed with Jon earlier hung in front of her. She had stopped to have a better look at it, admiring it's work. It did look good, she could admit that – and at least you couldn't tell that it was her. Apart from the emblem on the shield, anyway.

Of course, what it represented was something altogether different. Jon and her had been through a lot, that was for certain, something which this hanging represented more than anything. There had been a time when all she could see of the future was Jon. Well, that wasn't entirely true – the dream of her shield was always present, but Jon had run a close second through a good portion of her life. She knew she made the right decision in rejecting his offer of marriage, however. She would have been awful as the Queen, something which she supposed would be reflected here in this world. It'd be vindicating to see just how much better off Thayet did with Jon than she would have done.

Biting her lip, she thought over that. She had loved him at the time, of course. It was a hard choice, but she was one for hard choices. Of course, the rational part of her mind put in, this Corus didn't seem particularly destitute…

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind; she had other things to think about now. Like working out how and why they had been shoved into this world. They'd probably have to start in the royal library, looking up spells and other such bizarre phenomena. Where would they start, though? She had no idea – she couldn't even remember if she'd done anything in particular that night.

Though something was still tickling at the front of her awareness. It was as if she'd forgotten to extinguish a torch in her chambers before she went to sleep – she was missing something. But what? She tried to concentrate, to bring it forward through the sheer force of her will – but nothing came.

With a sigh, she finally made her way away from the hanging.

***

She'd gone to their rooms, first. Just had a little poke around in there – it was weird, seeing clothes in fashions she liked (though with far better cuts and materials; must go with the whole Royalty angle) and had back at the Swoop stocking a room she shared with Jon. It conjured up memories of her time as a Squire, when they were almost sharing each other's rooms. Actually, she thought with a blush, one could probably say they were sharing each other's rooms – beds, at least, were shared on a regular basis.

Still, nothing had leapt out to her as being of particular note, and she'd left fairly quickly. She had no idea of what kind of duties a Queen was required to perform, or whether she was required to do anything. She knew what Thayet often did; training and socializing with the Queen's Riders, but she didn't suppose such a body existed here. She'd just decided to do a little training; after all – traveling to a different world was no excuse to get out of shape. Though sometimes she wished at least something would excuse her from doing it.

So she'd made her way down to the training courts – thankful that they were in the same location as those in the real world. Moreover, it appeared that she did this a lot in this world too, as not one of the knights, squires or servants she passed gave her a confused glance. They smiled at her, some even murmured 'Your Majesty' as she wandered past (And she felt certain they would be able to hear her grinding her teeth in frustration), but they didn't question her presence. Which was a bonus, as far as she was concerned. She picked up a wooden practice sword, glad to note that it was cored with lead, and began her routine; mind focused absolutely on what she was doing.

When she became receptive to the outside world again, winding down from her last exercise, she noted that a few men had gathered to watch her. It seemed, judged on their expressions, that there was still as much…conflict…on her 'position' as there was in the real world. One looked in awe of her, another somewhat aggravated, while a third looked…appreciative? Oh yes, that was certainly a leer. She glared at him in return, though he just smirked at her. She was of half a mind to go over and hit him on the head with her heavy sword, but – unfortunately! – She didn't get the chance.

It was at just that moment that Jon came into the room, quietly making his way over to her. As he did so, his eyes spotted the man leering at her, and he stopped suddenly; jaw clenching. "And what are you looking at?" he asked, coolly. The man turned on his heel, eyes widening suddenly in sheer panic at the presence of the King. He spluttered for an answer, though nothing particularly coherent emerged. Jon narrowed his eyes, "Don't even think of doing that again. Now go."

After the man had scampered off, she turned her own glare onto Jon. "What did you do that for?" she whispered, harshly. "I could have dealt with that myself!"

Jon gave a start, before looking around sharply, noticing that two of the men were still within hearing distance. He placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her over to the corner, shaking his head in disbelief. "I thought I was doing you a favour," he whispered as they moved. "But obviously you're too prickly to appreciate that."

"Prickly?" she fumed, twisting so he didn't have his hand on her anymore. It was strange, but she didn't particularly want him touching her right at the moment – it felt very uncomfortable, for some reason. "I'm not prickly!"

Jon just gave her a long, skeptical look.

"Alright, maybe I am. But that doesn't mean you can come gallivanting in here with some misguided attempt to…" she fumbled for a term, "To 'save' me from something!"

He just shook his head. "I thought I was doing you a favour," he repeated. "Obviously I'll refrain from doing so in the future."

Sighing, she winced. She had blown up at him for no real reason, "Sorry, I don't know why I went off like that."

"It's alright, it's just the frustration boiling over."

She frowned. "I guess so. How did you know?"

"Because mine boiled over earlier when I was talking to the Scanran's. I think Gary's going to have a tough time talking them around now, and it's all my fault. I shouldn't have gone off- Well, I shouldn't have done what I did, anyway."

"What did you do?" she asked.

He waved the question away. "That's not important. But I was still really angry when I walked in, and then when I saw the way that man was looking at you it-"

"You shouldn't worry about those things," she chided. "I can handle myself with creeps like that."

"Maybe-"

"No. Not maybe. I can." She punctuated the last word by stabbing him in the chest with her finger.

Shrugging, he grinned at her. "I guess so. You're certainly scaring me now." His grin became a warm smile as he added, "Still, that doesn't mean I don't want to help you. In this and other things. You're one of my best friends, Alanna. I want to help you."

She blushed slightly, "Oh. Ok then, thanks. But don't do the whole 'jealous husband' trick again."

"But it worked so well!" he joked.

Slipping into the incredibly familiar glare, she shook her head at him. "You're intolerable, you know that, don't you?"

"Ah," he replied dramatically. "So I guess that makes us a perfect match, then?" Laughing as she slapped him lightly on the shoulder, he put an arm around her shoulders. Again she felt somewhat uncomfortable, but she tried to bury that feeling. "Come on," he continued. "Let's get started on trying to find a way back to the real world."

She couldn't argue with that, anyway.