A/N – I would say that this chapter is also weird, but I've had it pointed out to me that saying such a thing may be just my own insecurities playing up ^_^

I am worried about this chapter, in that I feel that some may like it while others do not, but if you've enjoyed reading so far – I do implore you to stay involved in it. The plot is, as far as I'm concerned, a particularly interesting one, and one which leaves a great scope for me to continue afterwards.

So…if you like it, great! Please review it! If you don't like it…great! Please review it and tell me why you didn't like it, or whether the plot was kind of thin, or whatever…In general – review, please! -_^

***

While her body was frozen, her mind was working overtime as Jon thoroughly kissed her. What is he doing? This is wrong – isn't it? This world is different from our own; could it be affecting Jon? Could it be affecting me? Do I want to stop this? What about George?

No! She couldn't do this – things were so complicated already. The feelings she had been having lately needed to be nipped in the bud before they could get out of control, and indulging in them now – however small any repercussions may be – was not the way to go about that. Although it does feel nice – but he didn't take my own feelings into consideration…! Jon had begun to trail a hand up her arm, presumably so that he could enfold her in his arms, and it was this which stung her into action. "No," She mumbled into his lips, pulling away from him savagely, bringing a hand to her lips.

Jon looked at her with a confused glance, a glance which almost instantly began to dissolve into one of pain. "Alanna," he whispered hoarsely as he turned away from her. "What have I-? I'm so sorry Alanna, I shouldn't have done that."

"No," she repeated, mumbling through the hand against her lips. "No you shouldn't have." She knew it was harsh, but it was also the truth. He shouldn't have done it, no matter how nice it had felt. She'd forgotten what his kisses were like; their strength of them, like a roiling wave in the ocean, building and building and never letting one rest. But…that's not the issue! Her mind cried; she knew it wasn't, she really did. It wasn't – Jon shouldn't have done it, least of all because he had not considered what she wanted.

"I'm sorry," Jon whispered again, standing up from the bed and moving slowly away from her. "I'll just…" he pointed to the door without looking at her, and began to shuffle towards it. "I'll just go, alright? I'll leave you alone."

"Jon, wait-" she croaked, as she stood swiftly, reaching out towards him. He turned back to her, and she could almost see how pained his thoughts were. His face seemed to just shout at her.
"Yes?" He whispered. She realised that he could possibly be thinking that she had changed her mind about things, although – to a worryingly small extent, be honest – she hoped that this was not the case. But she needed to dispel that notion quickly.

"I-" she began, before shaking her head softly – the right words to say slipping into her mind. "You know that this is wrong, Jon. We're both married to other people now, and…it's just the situation we're in, don't you see? You wouldn't be saying these things, we wouldn't be feeling these things if it weren't for what has been happening to us lately. Don't you see that? It's just not right, Jon – not right to be doing it to ourselves, or to George or Thayet. Not right to be doing it to our children, Jon."

And she was right on this; she knew that. It was just plain wrong – in every way you thought about it. Except, of course, in her heart – within which it felt more right than anything else in the world. But she knew that she couldn't live with the heart leading her way; passion was a major part of her life, true, but passion caused more trouble than good, sometimes, and she had a feeling that this was such a time.

It appeared that Jon realised this also, as his eyes fell to the floor. "I know," he whispered after a long moment, "I know it's wrong, Alanna."

"Good," she replied. "That's good." Was it, though? Alright – she knew and accepted that the two of them couldn't…become involved…in any sense of the word. She knew that without question. But was it good? Did it make her feel good? That was another matter…

"But I can't – no, I won't deny how I feel about you, Alanna," Jon continued, fire in his voice as he moved his eyes back up to her face. "I won't take back what I said, because I mean it. Meant every word." He steeled his jaw, as if awaiting a physical blow from her.

Damn stubborn man, maybe a good punch would set his head back on straight…!

She beat down the slightly more…bloodthirsty…thought with some difficulty, although she was half inclined to follow its advice. "Jon," she warned, voice somewhat chillier, "As I said, we're only feeling like this because of the situation we're in – it's not something real."

Jon shook his head, "You're wrong," He told her, conviction palpable in his tone. "I know my thoughts, and I know that I've been feeling this for a long time. About as long as it's been since Thayet and I have really connected on a personal level. And do you know why we can't do so?" he asked of her, turning on his heel and throwing his hands in the air. She felt a slight tremor of worry – his mood was becoming slightly…disturbing. He turned back to her, and she shook her head slightly in answer. "Well I'll tell you. Because we're not in love anymore and haven't been for some time! Because she doesn't even sleep in the same bed as I do anymore! Because the only reason she puts up with the Court functions is because of what we had, not what we are – because I love you, Alanna. I love you, and she knows it."

To claim that Alanna was shocked at this revelation was something of an understatement, her thoughts possibly being better appraised as dumbfounded. Or perhaps she would have described herself as being flabbergasted; she hadn't yet decided. She had been shocked when Jon had revealed that he merely thought that he was falling out of love with Thayet, but to hear this…And Thayet knew what Jon felt…? Jon had been 'feeling' this way for longer than they had been here…? "What?" She managed to stammer out eventually.

Sighing, Jon sat down on the bed once more. "I just- I needed to get that off my chest, I think." He told her softly, staring straight ahead as he did. Suddenly, he gave a hollow laugh, its harshness echoing about the room slightly. "It's strange."

"What is?" She asked, wondering whether doing so was the smart choice.

He shook his head in disbelief "It's just that I feel so much better, and so much worse, for doing so. Saying that, I mean."

Another question popped into her mind; she debated whether or not to ask it, but eventually decided that they'd already gone this far; "Did you mean it?"

"What I said?"

She nodded.

"Yes." He replied, turning his head up to look at her. "I did. I do."

"All of it?"

Jon nodded, responding a moment later with a question of his own. "Which parts can't you accept?"

Spluttering, Alanna simply shook her head. "What, besides most of them?" She sighed as Jon simply stared at her, "No, all right. I won't presume to judge your opinion on your…relationship with your wife," Jon nodded to this, almost imperceptibly, but she continued regardless, "But I don't think that Thayet knows of any feelings on your part for me, and I'm not so sure that you're thoughts on such…" she swallowed, "feelings are particularly clear at the moment."

"So you won't presume on my wife and her position, but you're perfectly willing to presume you know my own feelings?"

"No!" she replied, before realizing that this was exactly what she was doing. "Well, yes – but the two are completely different!"

"How?"

"Because!" Jon raised an eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. "Because I know you! I know you well enough to know your thoughts, to know how you think!"

"And I know you, Alanna!" Jon told her, rising up off the bed and standing before her. "I know you, and I know that you're trying to rationalize this away! You're trying to subvert your own feelings – burying them deep inside of you instead of dealing with them!"

Folding her arms, Alanna leveled her best glare at her friend. "Really?" she asked, skeptically. "And what exactly makes you think that?" He wasn't right – are you sure about that? – and she wouldn't entertain the idea any more. It would be best to just go to sleep elsewhere for the night, to just leave all this alone for the moment.

But Jon had latched onto the thought already; "What makes me think that?" he replied, "What – apart from the fact that you always seem to do this? What about George?"

Narrowing her eyes, Alanna wondered where he was going with this. "What about him?"

"You didn't talk to him at all about his feelings over the first few years you knew him, you just let him pine away for you without ever confronting him about them."

"What? Of course I talked to him about them! What right do you have to talk to me about how I treated George?"

Jon shook his head, "You never talked to him about them. You told him that he was being silly; that he wasn't feeling what he felt – that he should just stop acting how he was. You told him how he should think, you never once thought about how he actually did feel."

She couldn't believe what he was saying. Indeed – what right did he have to say such things? Such spiteful things? "I never-"

"But you did, don't you see?" Jon interjected, a more moderate tone accompanying the words. "And I think you're doing the same now."

Alanna stood silent for a moment, shaking her head slowly. Could he be-? No, he couldn't be; besides! That was a long time ago – she was only a girl, then! "No."

"What?"

"I'm not. You're totally mistaken. I love George." Maybe if you keep telling yourself that…No! She did love George, she knew she did. But…that didn't necessarily discount the fact that she was having these…'feelings' for Jon, did it?

"Alanna-"

"What?" she spat, "Why would you think I felt anything for you besides friendship? Why would you say such things about me?"

"I didn't," Jon whispered to her, "You did; or did you think I wouldn't catch it?"

"Catch what?" she replied, somewhat confused.

"The constant reference to the way we feel, that we've only been feeling these things because of what's happened to us." He told her, softly, as if revealing some dark secret. In a way – he was. She hadn't realised she'd said that, though now she thought about it…she knew he wasn't lying. She had said those things; but did it mean anything?

She didn't know, and if she were honest with herself, she wasn't sure she wanted to know. I love George! I love our life together, I love our Children! "I-" she tried to speak, but her throat caught as she realised that this wasn't the point. It never had been. As she had told herself many times before this night she knew she loved George. She wouldn't, she couldn't deny that to herself…but she was feeling these emotions. She shouldn't deny that.

But what other choice was there? Act on them? No – that would cause far more harm than good…but she couldn't just deny them. Maybe she should just release the tension a little; like a valve on a winepress, let out the tension slightly so the structure didn't burst. But letting herself go in such a fashion could lead to so much more. Something which she definitely did not want to experience; not because she didn't necessarily want to, but because of the effect it could have on others around her.

"Alanna," her attention was brought back to the present, as she realised that Jon had moved closer to her. He was standing very close to her now, as he raised a hand to her face, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You can't deny what you feel for ever."

Was he right? She didn't know – "W-what about our families?" She whispered, softly.

Jon looked down for a moment – shamed – before looking back into her eyes, determination etched into his face. He let a thumb caress the side of her cheek, and – somewhat to her horror – she let herself lean into its touch. He lowered his head to the side of her neck, pressing his lips to her skin. "They never…" he murmured against it, before repeating the deliciously sensual kiss again. "Have to know." He finished, sliding a hand to the back of her head. "They won't ever know, Alanna."

"They won't ever know," she repeated to herself as Jon brought his head around into her vision once more. She looked into his icy blue eyes, and knew that he was going to kiss her soon. If he kissed her, she also knew, that he wouldn't stop – and that she probably wouldn't want him to stop. Her attraction to him was still there – in some ways it always had been there, but this…proximity to him of late simply brought it to the fore. Maybe…? No. She couldn't let herself give in to this; not like this anyway – she knew that neither herself nor Jon were particularly thinking their clearest at the moment. Their families may never know, but she would always know that she had given in to it, and she couldn't handle that. "No." she whispered, making her mind up.

"No?" Jon echoed, questioningly.

She continued to stare into his eyes as she moved back slightly, disentangling herself from his grasp. "No. Not like this."

"Not like this?"

Sighing, Alanna dropped her gaze. "You were right," she told him, "I do have feelings for you. But they're just lust, I know that they're just lust – and I won't give into them. I can't Jon, it's just not right." She looked up at him again, "I'm sorry."

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes shut – as if he were attempting to keep the sight of her away. "No," he told her, pained. "No reason to apologise. You've done nothing wrong here."

Even though he couldn't see it, she nodded to herself. At least he could recognise that fact – she, nor he for that matter, were to blame here. Things were…strange….here, and they were not thinking clearly. "No I didn't," she said to him. "And it's good that you recognise that."

Jon just sighed softly.

"You're still my friend, Jon." She told him, "my closest friend besides George. More importantly than that, we need each other to get through…this." She waved her arm around at the room they were in, "This situation we find ourselves in. I need you."

He nodded, almost imperceptibly. After a long moment of silence, he opened his eyes softly – even in the low light of their bedchamber, she could tell that the blue was red-rimmed now. A slightly trembling grin was forced onto his lips; "I should probably get some blankets, then." He said, "I'll take the floor, then."

It was her turn to nod – "That would be for the best, Jon." And it would be. Temptation – for both of them! – couldn't be easily fought when you shared a bed with the object of ones attention. "Thank you."

***

It was still before dawn when she awoke, a slight red haze entering in through the open windows beside the bed. Blinking her eyes once or twice to remove the sleep in them, she rolled to the side – staring out the window. From her current position, she couldn't see a single part of the city below, the deep red sky seeming to have no ending nor beginning. It was beautiful, in a way, although George had always maintained that having a sky bathed in the colour of dried blood was never a particularly good omen. "Beauty exists all around us," she softly whispered to herself, "It's just depends on how you look at things."

"What?" came a groggy voice from beside the bed.

She frowned slightly, wondering exactly who – or perhaps what, had made the sound. As she shifted to the bedside, to get a glimpse of who it could be, the memories of the past few days came back to her. She was in Corus, in the bed of the King and Queen – and Jon was sleeping beside the bed. "Good morning, Jon." She said softly as she leant back down into the pillows. They were nice and soft; she'd have to ask Jon how expensive they were when they returned to their own world – she wanted some.

"G'morning." He replied. After a long moment, his voice rose again from his position on the floor. "What did you say before?"

"Nothing," she said. "Just musing about the view from this window."

"Musing?" she heard him chuckle slightly, "Since when did you say musing?"

"I have a very wide vocabulary, Jonathon of Conte," she replied, affecting a shocked tone. "I do, after all, have quite a learned father who ensures that his daughter is both worldly and wise."

"Good old Myles."

She smiled to herself. Good old Myles indeed. A thought struck her; "How was it, sleeping down there? I hope you don't have any weird cramps or anything."

"Oh no," he replied. She could hear his smile. "I must say, our stone floors are actually quite comfortable. We could rent out the hallways as bedding if we ever needed the money."

She laughed softly at that. At least his spirits weren't altogether shot from recent events – and that was something which they both needed. They couldn't be put off by what had happened to them, they needed to keep positive that they'd return home. Perhaps unfortunately, however, the conversation had another affect which she could well have done without – reminding Jon about just why he was on the floor.

"Look, Alanna." Jon sighed softly after a minute or so, "Just about last night…" he trailed off, and she guessed that he was waiting for her to prompt him to continue – asking without words whether she were comfortable with having a conversation on this.

"Yes?" she wasn't sure if she was comfortable, but there was no point putting it off.

"I-I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for…what I said."

She waited for a moment, wondering if he was going to add anything else. He didn't, and she thought about how to reply. What exactly was he referring to? Was he sorry for what he said about…his feelings, or for what he said about her? She wasn't sure, and decided that it would probably be best to just ask him. "All of it?" she replied, after mustering up some courage beforehand.

"Well…I-" Jon stopped, suddenly, and she heard him shuffling about beside her. His head popped into view, his tousled black hair almost causing her to giggle; she could tell that by his expression, he was somewhat confused. "I'm not sure I entirely understand what you're asking, Alanna."

She gave him a forced grin; "Just…what are you apologizing for?"

"I'm not sure," he told her, truthfully. "I am sorry for what I said about you; about how you treated George. That was none of my business, and I'm sorry that I said what I did."

"Apology accepted." She stated simply. That was easily taken care of; she wasn't sure if Jon was right on that, but at the end of the day – it was so long ago now, an she knew that all three of them – George, Jon and herself – had grown so much in the intervening period that it really didn't matter.

"A-and I'm sorry for what I said about…uh." He grimaced, "What I…proposed…to you."

She nodded softly. "I…Yes, apology accepted, Jon." The grin was more natural this time; a wide and warm smile. "I know that neither of us were particularly thinking straight last night. But…you know that it can't happen, don't you Jon? It's just not right."

Jon bobbed his head up and down, slowly. He looked…well, unhappy was the obvious choice. She continued looking at him for a while, looking at his expression and the way the ever-increasing light played with his features. At some point during her visual examination, Jon turned to look at her, and the two of them seemed locked together by their shared gaze. She stared into his eyes from her horizontal position, gazing into their icy-warm depths. "No," Jon intoned after a moment, "not right at all."

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she decided that it would be for the best if she were to just get up; get moving. Pulling herself out of bed, and making sure that she kept most of her skin covered (She had slept in a night shirt, true, but there was still the matter of her legs), she quickly slipped into a nicely trimmed robe, pulling it closed around her. It was strange; but she could tell that this robe would have been hers in this world – it was feminine, to be sure; but it was not too feminine, something she had always held a slight distaste for. It was…just right.

Dismissing such idle thoughts, she turned back to Jon and the bed. As she did so, she noticed him quickly averting his eyes from her. "What?" she asked.

"What?" he replied, innocently.

She rolled her eyes, "Never mind." Of course she knew what he had been looking at, and it felt…nice, in a way – but it would be best for them both if he didn't.

Still, probably best to just put it behind them. "So," she began to babble, moving around the room in an attempt to get herself organized. "Anything of importance today? I mean, not that you necessarily should know everything that happens around here because, heck – let's face it; you're just a man, despite what you may think of yourself or what court ladies may well think about you. B-but I mean have you heard anything-"

"You look beautiful this morning."

She stopped her train of thought, stopped blathering altogether, mouth agape. A shirt that she had just picked up lay limply in her hands as she stood with her back to the bed and Jon. "W-w-what did you say?" she softly asked.

"I just…I…" she heard him sigh, "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

Closing her eyes, Alanna felt like sighing herself. Why was he doing this? Couldn't he just…ignore it? "Why are you making this so hard, Jon?" she whispered, desperately wanting to know. She – and he, she hoped – knew that they couldn't…do…what they both wanted to here, it would be too painful to all involved. So why wasn't he just trying to ignore it.?

"Am I?" he said, simply. "I didn't think I was."

She shook her head softly, "Could you just…not say things like that, please?"

"What, compliment you?"

"Yes! I mean…" she fumbled for something to say; "You know what I mean."

He looked at her steadily for a while, before nodding softly. "Alright."

"Good. Now; what are your plans for the day?"

As much as one could do so, sitting on the floor beside a bed, Jon shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not altogether sure; Gary tends to organize those sorts of things. Although I do know that I have to meet with the Scanran's at lunch." He nodded to her, "I think Gary's going to want you to come to that."

"Me?" she queried, somewhat surprised. "Why me?"

"You are the Queen, Alanna." Jon reminded her, "I do think that they would like to consider themselves as being received by the Tortallan Royalty in its' entirety."

"Oh." Damn.

"I don't know; it's not going to be too long, I don't think. Plus they've already grilled me enough, so I don't think they're going to be going to work on you very much."

She blinked at that. "What do you mean?"

"Just that I've given them the impression that I don't listen to your advice very often." He replied, far too calmly.

"Oh." Oh indeed; was that a good thing, or a bad thing? She wasn't sure. "Oh, well. That's…nice."

"What about you?" Jon asked, "What were you going to do?"

She shrugged, deciding that it would be a good time to start her organizing again. She threw the shirt down onto the bed, leaving it there for later when she had hoped to get some sword-training in. "I'm not altogether sure. I guess that I'll have to work things around this lunch…thing…at any rate, so that kind of cuts into my time. I was hoping to chat to Thom again at some point, but I suppose that I could do that later."

"Say hello to him for me if you do catch up to him."

"I'll do that," Alanna replied, feeling somewhat glad that he didn't attempt to get involved in such a meeting. Not that she didn't want him around, not really (in fact, she wanted him very close, but that kind of thinking was liable to grant her lots and lots of emotional pain. Not good.), but she just wanted to talk to Thom alone for a bit. Catch up with him; stick close. She'd lost her brother before she'd really gotten to know the 'older and wiser' Thom of Trebond in the real world; it would be nice to just get to know this Thom a little closer before they were forced to go. She'd worried that perhaps doing so wasn't the best of ideas; that leaving after getting to know this Thom would be harder than if she avoided him – but…no. She'd decided that she shouldn't pass up on this…opportunity to have her brother with her again. Besides, she would be talking and interacting with this Thom a lot anyway, what with the memory spell and attempting to work out how they'd gotten here; avoiding him would be almost impossible anyway. "I'll ask if he's managed to locate any amber, too. For the spell." She added, after a pause.

She hadn't meant them to, but the words seemed to remind Jon that they didn't belong here – that they belonged back in the real world, with their other loved ones. Something that she herself needed reminding of too, if she were honest with herself.

A knock at the door startled the both of them, and they shared a look momentarily, wondering who it could be. She shrugged – she didn't have a clue, and Jon nodded. "Come in," he shouted, raising himself off the floor quickly. Despite her better wisdom, Alanna snuck a quick glance at his – now exposed, not to mention rather sculpted – chest and torso. Thankfully, she didn't think Jon caught her doing so; she quickly averted her gaze and mentally chastised herself for acting this way. You're weak! You're a hussy!

"Morning all," Gary strode through the door, a small tray in his hands holding various scrolls, along with a quill and inkbottle. "Hope you slept well."

"Thank you, Gary." Jon replied, smiling wearily. "I slept like a rock."

Alanna smiled at that, the expression subsequently widening into a grin at seeing Gary's face. "Isn't it 'slept like a log'?" He asked, confused by Jon's comment.

"Yes Gary."

"Then why-?"

"Never mind, Gary."

The Prime Minister frowned for a moment, before shrugging. "I don't think I'll ever really understand either of you," he told the two of them, "You're both just too weird. I guess that's why you work so well together."
Alanna's grin faded at that, and she turned her gaze to Jon. He too was looking at her, a serious (almost too serious for her liking) glint in his eyes. "I suppose so," the King replied. "I suppose so."

***

She'd left them soon after, excusing herself from their presence with the explanation that she wanted to do some training to 'keep her edge'. Gary had, by this time, had Jon signing various proclamations and edicts, so neither one of them really noticed her exit. It was, in its own way, quite nice to get away from Jon for a while. The last few hours – the morning and the previous evening, had been somewhat too…intense for her. Her heart was taking a pounding, it had begun to feel, and a few hours of physical exertion would be good for her.

So she'd slipped on some clothing which would allow for freedom in movement, and made her way down to the training courts. Some of the Pages were in here already; she remembered that Pages were forced to work before the Squires from her own days among their ranks. Such a hierarchy was unfair, somewhat, but it did force the younger boys – and girls! – to toughen up. Something which, to her, wasn't necessarily all that bad. A knight couldn't be coddled; they had to be tempered like the swords they wielded.

Still, these boys seemed to be somewhat…new…to the palace. Once she entered the courtyard, it seemed that all activity within it simply ceased. The Pages stood there, mouths agape at the sight of her. Various trainers, some of which she thought she recognised from the real world, gave her a nod of respect, before turning back to their charges. She smirked a little when she overheard one of them yelling to the young lads;

"Alright ya 'orrible lot! If yer this stumped by a lady in a trainin' court, then what'll ya be like when yer facin' women fighters in the field, eh?"

"But master," a Page piped up, "That's the Queen!"

"Damn right it is," came the response, accompanied by much spittle, "And I bet she'd best the lot of ya even when, nah…even if yer ever become knights!" The instructor turned to her again, and gave her a slight bow.

People bowing…to her? It felt so very odd.

But she smiled graciously, and gave the young pages a slight wave. They seemed to shocked to wave back, until the drill-master barked at them to 'show respect to yer Queen, louts!' after which they seemingly fell over themselves in an attempt to wave the hardest. She laughed softly, and decided that she'd probably disrupted their training enough. Making her way over to an unused corner, she picked up a heavy practice sword and tucked it under her arm, determined as she was to ensure that her skills didn't slip too much.

After making sure that no-one was planning to use the area of the court she had decided to occupy, she began her stretches. The comforting ache of stretched limbs reassured her that she was still in some shape, albeit not her best, and she soon set to work. Parries, thrusts, twists, kicks, punches, twirls, slashes – she could still do them all. Perhaps not with as much strength or flair as she once mustered, but she was thankful that her speed seemed to remain. She had trained slightly yesterday, true, but she'd not critiqued herself quite as much as she was now – and it was good to know that she still measured up to her own exacting standards. She could improve in areas, there was no doubt about that, but she had also accepted that she was getting old now. She never would again be in the shape she was at 17, and there was no point in worrying over this fact.

In her mind, she was in incredible shape for a woman her age. And that simple thought, the ease with which she managed to make it through her training session, cheered her up immensely.

***

After her training session, and after having to brush through the crowd of onlookers (this being the most irritating part of royalty to date, or so she believed. Being just the Lioness was bad enough, but being the Queen as well? No, the crowds were abominable.), she discovered that it was still a few hours until midday. She wasn't sure when Jon would like her to be 'ready' for this lunch with the Scanran delegation – and how 'ready' did she need to be? Was this a formal thing? Did she need to wear a dress for this? She hadn't the slightest clue, and it's not as if she could ask a maid about it. She needed to ask Jon about that – but decided that she didn't really have the time to do anything of any real note. She decided, however, that she probably had the time to talk to Thom, at least.

So she made her way towards Thom's rooms in the east tower, hoping that he would be in. Thom didn't seem the type to be roaming the city from sunup till sundown, she knew that, but it never did to just expect that people would be present. Still, she thought as she reached the corridor that Thom's rooms were located within, it appeared that she need not have worried. She gave a slight grin as she took in the doorway; a relatively plain wooden thing, except for the enspelled inscription clearly blazing away with magickal fire that read 'Go Away!'.

She raised her hand to knock on the door, but paused for a moment – this fire couldn't hurt her, could it? She didn't know, and it probably wouldn't do to have her hand badly burnt. So she stepped back from it slightly, readying herself to call out to her brother inside so that he could bring the spell down. Suddenly, however, a raised voice – Thom's voice – came from within the room, causing her to hold off on any attempt to attract his attention, slightly curious as she was.

"…tell me where he is!" she could hear him yelling loudly, "Or by the Graveyard Hag you'll regret it. What? No! Of course I'm not going to pay you that much for them!" Alanna frowned; she couldn't hear any other voice coming from within the room – she supposed that Thom must be magickally communicating with someone. "Look, just get them for me, alright? Or I'll take my business elsewhere, do you understand me?" She could hear him sighing loudly. What was he talking about? Was this something about the amber, or another one of his projects? And did he have to be so caustic about it? She supposed that she really shouldn't presume on how he should act – she didn't know anything about who he was talking with, perhaps they deserved to be treated in such a fashion. Thom cursed to himself, before his voice almost became too low to hear. "Just tell him that if he doesn't get those gems here in four days, then- What? Yes, yes. Alright….very well. Goodbye, Blayce." A pause, before a short – "Why do I associate so with idiots?"

Well…that was altogether confusing, or so she thought. Still, she supposed that it was nothing to do with her. Shrugging, she decided to call out to her brother. "Thom? You in there?"

There was a pause, a fairly long length of time, to be honest. Then, just before she was about to call out again, Thom's voice came back at her. "Alanna?"

"Yes," she replied, her voice raised slightly. "Can I come in?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely."

She frowned, "Will these flames hurt me?"

"No, no." came the reply, "Just push the door open."

She was a little worried, but she also believed her brother; putting her hand on the burning W and pushing in. The door swung open easily, and her hand didn't feel hot in the slightest. She glanced up at her brother when he came into sight, and she smiled. "Neat little trick you've got there."

He smiled in reply, "Yes, very useful. Keeps the maids away like you wouldn't believe."

"You don't like maids?" she asked, "After the way you knew the measurements of that maid I was turned into last night, I may have thought you quite liked them." She grinned in an almost lascivious manner at him.

He rolled his eyes at her, "Oh Alanna, your jibes hurt so!" she laughed softly at his dramatics, and he eventually joined in. After he had calmed himself, he answered her seriously. "No, I have nothing against maids, although I do against maids who come in here and move everything around. I have a great many research projects coming along, spells that have precise alignments and the like. Having a maid move a spell which has taken more than a month to set up is not something I'd like to have repeated."

"You mean-?" she stifled a giggle, "Wow. I wouldn't have liked to be that maid after you found out about it."

"No," Thom replied softly, "No I don't think you would."

Alanna blinked at that, Thom hadn't…done…anything to her, had he? "Huh." She grunted, simply. Maybe it was best that she didn't know, after all.

Looking up at her suddenly, Thom let a wide smile creep over his features. "So, dear sister," he said, "how are you this delightful morn?"

"Very dramatic," she told him, grinning in reply. "Well done."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. And I'm fine, had a good training session this morning that cheered me right up."

Thom grimaced, "I still don't see how physically exhausting yourself in such a manner can make you feel good."

She decided that it might be fun to poke fun at him, "Just because you're a little out of shape…"

"I am not out of shape!" Thom indignantly cried, "I am the very image of a wonderfully svelte court Sorcerer." She raised an eyebrow. Thom sighed dramatically once more, throwing up his hands; "Honestly, Alanna. A Queen should never lie, it's quite unbecoming."

"Well its' good that I'm not a Queen then," she told him with a chuckle, "Since I'm not lying."

Thom shook his head, "Muscle-brained idiot." He muttered.

"Weedy shrimp" she shot back.

"Oh very nice!" her brother retorted, "Besides, what are you then? Some kind of giant-among men?" she rolled her eyes at that, but he didn't give up. "I'm taller than you, at any rate."

"Are not!"

"Well, I can make myself taller than you. Fairly easily, in fact."

"That's cheating." She whined, mouth hanging wide open in protest.

Thom raised a finger at her, waggling it back and forward. "Now, now, dear sister. Since when was life ever fair? I thought we learnt that particular lesson the moment our father decided to ignore our wishes and send us off to the very places we didn't want to go?"

She grumbled at that, he was right – but she didn't want him to know that she knew that. Besides, I could still beat him any day. She comforted herself with this thought; a very nice thought at that. "Bah." She stated, simply, and Thom simply smiled at her. He knew that she'd conceded defeat – she'd have to get him back somehow. Perhaps…putting him on the spot might be a place to start? "What kind of gems?" she asked, out of the blue.

Her attempt to catch Thom off guard worked admirably. Her brother spun to face her, his eyes bulging till they seemed the size of an orange. "W-w-what did you say?" he managed to stutter out after a moment.

Yes! And she lands a hit of her own… she thought, smiling to herself. "What kind of gems were you looking for?" She reiterated, "I heard you asking someone for gems before I came in here."

"Oh," Thom replied, eyes still bulging slightly. "Oh, just…you know. Gems."

"Yes, gems." She spoke slowly, as one would to a child. "What sort?"

Thom fumbled his hands around, as if he were attempting to show her through mime. "Oh, uh, you know. Uh…" He sucked in a breath, seeming to visibly recover himself. "Sorry, just a little thrown by the question." He explained to her, smiling at her. "Though I guess that was your intention."

She grinned. "Yup." Thom rolled his eyes slightly, "So - what Gems?"

"Just an amethyst and an emerald." He told her, after a further moment or so.

"Huh," she told him. "What do you need them for?"
He shook his head, "A spell. Just a spell. They're components for a spell."

"What's the spell?"

"Very interested in it, are we?" Thom told her, a slight edge on his voice. "It's just a spell which helps me…find things that I want to find. Generally a spell to find something that's been lost."

"What have you lost?" She continued to ask these inane questions, fully aware that it was beginning to irk Thom. She wasn't about to let him off the hook just yet, not when so much more fun could be had!

"Nothing," he replied as he finally broke their look. He moved around the room, tidying some small things away.

"Then why the spell?"

He shrugged. "I don't need it for myself, but sometimes…I hire myself out sometimes to nobles, help them find things, help them overcome things, help them generally. And so the gems are just there for, you know, in case I need them."

"That's…" she grimaced slightly, "That's really quite…uh…"

"Low?" Thom proffered.

"Well, I didn't want to say anything…"

He grinned, "No, I know it is. But Trebond isn't really all that prosperous of late, dear sister. I need to fund my research and my spells somehow, and these supplements really do help a lot, considering the ease with which I complete them."

"Oh," she added. "Well that's just…great."

Thom just gave her a lax smile, "Now, sister," he continued after a moment, sitting himself down into a chair that was now free from junk, "is there anything else I can do to help you?"

***

She'd continued talking with Thom for another hour or so, generally chatting about their respective lives in both this world and in Alanna's own. Once or twice he'd steered the conversation towards Jon and how her relationship with him was like in her world, which had somewhat confused Alanna.

"So you're not married to Jon?" he had asked her.

Frowning, she had replied as simply as she could. "No. Not in the slightest, even."

"Huh," came his reply, a somewhat…disbelieving little grunt. "Huh." He repeated.

"What?" she asked, wondering what Thom was getting at.

"Oh, nothing." He had said, leaning back in his chair as if attempting to escape from her wrath. "Nothing at all."

"No," she pressed, "You meant something by that. What?"

"Just that…you know…you don't look like just friends when I see you together."

Alanna licked her lips slightly, "Well…"

"Well…? Oh dear, that didn't seem a particularly reassuring 'well'." Thom had mused, drawing a grin out of Alanna.

"No, I don't think it is."

"What's the problem?"

She had shrugged; she wasn't sure if she wanted to explain this seemingly more and more twisted relationship with her brother. "Just that things have changed."

"What things?" He asked, "Your feelings for him? Or your feelings for whomever you have back in your world?"

"No, no." she had replied quickly, "I know that I still love George, it's just th-"

"George?!" Thom interjected. "George Cooper? You're married to George Cooper?" She had nodded, frowning at her brothers' reaction. "Ah…so that's why you wanted to see him yesterday."
"Yes," she said, "why does that surprise you?"

"What? Oh, no – it doesn't." He had shrugged the question off, before leaning in once more, listening attentatively to her. "Not at all. Please, continue."

She continued to frown for a moment, something wasn't feeling spot on….but decided that there was nothing more she could do about it. "Oh, well. Alright. I know that I still love George, it's just…" she decided to try a different tack. "Thom, do you believe that one can love more than one person at once?"

"Romantic love?" her brother had asked, to which she nodded. "Well, I'm not exactly a poet or anything, so I couldn't give you a flowery answer to this. But if you just want my opinion? I think that yes – one can love more than one person at once." She nodded to herself, maybe he was right. Thom had continued, however. "The heart isn't rational, Alanna. While the mind may want to believe that you can stay devoted, attracted and in love with a single individual, the heart is a fickle creature; always driven by desire and passion. You can be in love with more than one person at once, it's just that your mind will be telling you that you have to ignore the heart, to remain loyal to your 'true' love, if you will."

"Huh." She replied, realizing that she was re-using Thom's very words. "Well, uhh…thanks for your opinion."

"No problems, my dear."

She'd soon left his rooms, strolling slowly through the palace back towards the Royal chambers. She hoped that Jon was there; she needed to ask him what she was going to wear to this 'lunch' with the Scanrans, for one. Secondly…was there a secondly? She had thought a lot on what Thom had said, and she realised that to an extent, he was right. It was all a question of heart versus her mind; whether the passionate heart would overrule the rational mind. She definitely desired Jon (in fact she may well go as far to say she craved him), there was no point in denying that. But….could she let this overrule the rational element of her thinking? She had already once before managed to do so, been strong in the face of a roaring passion that began in her heart; and she had known that it was the right thing to do.

So…no. There was nothing 'secondly' to say to Jon. She'd ask him what she would be required to wear, and then pretend to be a Queen for an hour or two. Simple as that.

Of course, things never were quite that simple; something which seemed to be epitomized by the very thing she saw as she made her way towards their rooms. As she had turned the last corner, entered the corridor which contained the doorway to their rooms, she noticed the large wall hanging that hung nearby. The wall hanging which, in this world at least, was symbolic of…well…she wouldn't gloss over it; of Jon's love for her. She supposed, although she knew that supposing was dangerous, that having it hung here outside their doorway was also was a symbol of her own love for Jon. Perhaps…

Yet Jon had had this hanging made in their world as well. Granted, it was done before the two of them parted ways, before her heart cooled to him; but…did the point still hold? Did the mere fact that Jon had wanted to – at whatever stage of their lives – create such a lasting symbol of love, love for her, mean anything? He had told her that he loved her – she had dismissed it as a result of the circumstances they were in. But he had told her that he had felt this way for a while, before they'd come into these circumstances. Apparently, even Thayet knew how he felt; though she wasn't sure about that. Thayet had never acted differently towards her, not even a glimmer of jealousy or malcontent.

Of course, why would she blame you…?

She grimaced, it wasn't a particularly appealing thought to be having; considering that it may be possible that one of her best friends may be harbouring some rather unfriendly feelings towards her, but she also knew that there really was no point in mulling over it. After all, there was no way she could speak to her while she were stuck here in this world.

So Jon may well be telling the truth there; it was certainly possible. Might he also then be telling the whole truth? Did he 'love' her like he had when they were but children still? She wasn't sure, and there really was only one way to find out – by asking him.

Unless…perhaps there was another way. A way which would also help her work out her own feelings for him; a way which could potentially bring about major problems for the both of them, but could clear the air with a single, simple act.

A simple kiss.

***

Such a plan was fraught with problems, and a nagging voice was yelling in her mind that she was making a mistake – but her mind, her rational side, had so far proved to be rather pointless when it came to deciding how Jon felt, or how she herself felt. Perhaps it was time to allow passion loose a little, let it answer some questions for once, rather than create them.

The plan still tumbling through her mind (and all the doubts that went along with it), she threw open the doors to their chambers, desperately hoping that Jon was within them. He was. Moreover, he was also naked to the waist, presumably as he readied himself for this lunch with the Scanran delegation. Hearing the loud noise from the doorway, he turned towards her. As his eyes took her in, she saw a warm smile spread over his face.

Such things were inconsequential, no matter how nice they may feel. She strode towards him purposefully, stopping herself a few feet in front of him. Swallowing the nerves and the worry, pounding them down in fact, she lifted her chin defiantly. "Do you love me?" she asked, simply.

"What?" he replied, obviously caught off guard by her actions.
"Do you love me?" She reiterated, still hoping against hope that…well…some form of clarity would be delivered upon her. She wasn't sure exactly how she hoped that this would occur, but she just hoped it would.

Jon let his frown drop away, realizing how serious she was. He turned to her then, letting his eyes stare into her own. "Yes," he told her softly. "I do, and I've never stopped doing so."

She wanted to…she wasn't sure what she wanted. Was this the answer she wanted? Or did she want a 'Gee Alanna, sorry for all that talk earlier – I just realised how much total garbage I was saying!'? She blinked, and realised that she was letting her mind get involved again. Wasn't this supposed to be passions time? She decided that there was really only one thing to do now, only one thing that she could do to get an answer. She moved over to him swiftly, standing directly in front of him. Looking up into his blue eyes, she almost lost her nerve as she saw the desire Jon had for her almost flowing out of them. Still, she mustered her courage, and whispered the words she had decided upon earlier. "This doesn't mean anything," she told him softly. "Don't take this in any way. I'm sorry if you feel used, but I need to know."

"Know what?" Jon whispered in return, obviously not understand what she was talking about. She didn't let him continue, lifting herself up on tiptoes to throw her arms around his neck and bring her lips onto his. All protest from Jon was cut off by such an action, and she let her heart free itself…

His lips were somewhat rough, something she hadn't noticed last night. Today, of course, she was a little more focused on things, and could notice such minor details. They were rough, yes, but they weren't hard. They were…nice was a good word, she supposed. She began to softly stroke the back of his neck, something which she'd wanted to do for a while, and it was probably this more than anything else which brought Jon back to reality. He had been somewhat shocked, she supposed, for a moment, but he made up for it now as he let his strong arms enfold her, crushing her in that oh-so-pleasant fashion against his chest. She groaned slightly under the pressure – or was it a moan? – but forgot about it entirely once Jon had begun to run his hands up and down her sides.

They broke apart for air, and she immediately dived back in. It felt so good…

She decided to deepen the kiss, probing at his lips with her tongue, and he gladly obliged her wish. Their tongues dueled with each other, and Jon brought a hand up to the back of her head.

Was her thinking any clearer on the matter, then? She wasn't altogether sure – her mind (when she decided to allow it to intrude on this wonderful event) was still torn between the horrific shrieking voice, calling her all sorts of names and reminding her of all the horrible consequences of what would happen because of this, and between the slightly more 'laid back' part which seemed to be pleased that she was feeling the way she was. And 'feeling' she was; she honestly couldn't remember feeling this… charged before. Not that Jon was 'sparking' or anything, just that…just that the way he made her feel, the way she reacted to him was so powerful that it caused her to just…

She couldn't even finish the thought; it was just a feeling of joy, she supposed. A joy at her desires being fulfilled. She knew that things were complicated, and that she – if she listened to the rational part of her mind – would forever regret what she had done, but it just felt so good…!

They were still entwined in one another, still breathing each others air, when Jon began to shuffle slightly. At first she let him, content in where she was, before he began to lower the two of them onto the bed. She didn't want to break apart from him, but she knew that…well…that would be going too far. "Wait," she mumbled in between kisses. "Not there."

"What?" Jon asked, pulling back from her.

"Not the bed," she replied. "Not that."

"Oh." He nodded, "Alright." She bit her lip softly, did she want to stop this yet…? Maybe the moment had…diffused? She smiled softly, follow your heart. Follow what passion dictates was her mantra of the moment, after all – she'd just do what she wanted to do. Jon had noticed her smiling, and responded in kind. He looked so beautiful, she realised; just standing there with tousled hair. Tightening her grip, she pulled his head back down to hers, and gave herself over once more to the passion of the moment…

Some time later, she wasn't particularly sure of the details, the two of them broke apart. Jon extricated his hand from under her shirt, and she untangled her hands from his hair. Wow. She stood opposite him, and raised a finger to her – by now, particularly swollen – lips, touching them softly as she looked across at Jon.

He ran a hand through his hair, somewhat nervously. "So, uh…" he began, the words stumbling somewhat. "Do you…know…now?"

"What?" she asked, still somewhat out of it all. She couldn't get over just how intense that had all felt, the way her body reacted to his. Had it been like that when they were together all those years ago? She couldn't remember.

"Did you find anything out?" Jon repeated, "Do you now know?"

Oh, right. "I'm not sure." She told him, truthfully. She supposed that this sort of thing was where the intellect was supposed to come in, the rational part of her brain was supposed to…interpret…what the heart was telling her. Such a thing could take a while, she supposed. "All I know at the moment," she said, "Is that…that was one of the most intense things I have ever experienced."

He smiled at that – as well he should, she supposed. "Really?" he asked, like a small child whose just been told that they'll be getting a special gift for Mid-winter.

Nodding, she lowered her gaze slightly. "I'm still not sure what that-"

"What that entails?" Jon proffered. "No, I completely understand that. I really do."

Good. She didn't want to reiterate the fact that the kiss didn't necessarily mean anything. Saying that now, however…was it really the truth? She'd never really felt anything like that – the physical relationship with George was intense, and it was exciting, but it was nothing at all like this. This was something completely different, something more…

But…she needed to think more on it. She nodded to herself; "All right," she stated after a moment, a wide smile affixed to her face, "Now. Moving on to other things – this lunch. What am I supposed to look like?"