A/N – Blah. Shorter chapter than the last one, I think. Still so much more of a joy to whip out a short 7,000 word chapter than the huge monstrosities that have become Divergence chapters ^_^ Oh well, at least I'm closer to finishing that one than this one…*cries softly* -_^

Anyway. Just an Authors Note to thank people for their wonderful reviews and to prompt for more…! MORE! Mwahahah! (And so forth).

Incidentally – since someone asked…No, 'Passionation' is not a word. It is a (probably too) subtle combination of Fascination and Passion, to kind of 'wrap up' the themes of what the last chapter was about. I actually try and go for insightful chapter titles, even if sometimes I end up too bored to actually care by the time I have to put them up on FF.net…! But I do attempt to put something on which says something about the chapter in question, anyway. But no – not a word.

I'm quite proud of this chapter, if only because it moves the plot forward quite a ways. Oh yes – and I decided that indeed, my way of writing George is not only hard work, but it's also annoying to read. So from now on, none of my George dialogue will be 'George-ified' to such a ridiculous extent as it was previously. I may continue doing it in Divergence, since I've only got about 2 chapters to go, but not in DOABL…

Enjoy!

***

The answer was, of course, 'like a Queen'. The problem was that she, nor Jon, had any idea of what The Queen – Alanna-as-Queen – was like. Would she wear a dress, or not? Would she follow the 'normal' rules for decorum, or not? They just didn't know, and it would be best for them not to arouse suspicion, particularly with the rumours of threats to their lives. It would not, after all, be the greatest course of action for them to give any potential assassins the idea that the two of them were acting very much unlike what they should be; to give these assassins any reason to believe that their opportunity had arrived early.

They weren't worried about them, not really – or at least Alanna wasn't, but there was no point in tempting fate unless an immediate payoff could be seen, as far as she was concerned. Taking a risk for the sake of taking a risk was not something she enjoyed. Besides, she wouldn't want to make things more difficult for 'this' Alanna once they left this world…

Which raised an interesting question; would this Alanna return here? For that matter, where had they gone? Were they – this worlds Alanna and Jon, in her own world? Would this Alanna have awoken next to George?

George…

Her George.

She winced at that thought; George was hers, or at least he had been hers. He probably still was, but she didn't presume to know that while she was here. She could always tell when she was looking into his eyes though – those beautiful hazel eyes. She was probably his too, she still felt like his – well, she thought she still felt like his. But what about Jon? She sort of wanted to be his, too, and for him to be hers.

"Alanna?" Jon's voice carried from the adjoining chamber; he'd (thankfully, for her sanity) offered to change into his own 'clothing of state', as he liked to call them, out of sight. "Are you decent?"

She smiled; a fairly familiar phrase that, though perhaps the circumstances now were slightly different – where once it was used to protect her discovery by other's apart from the two of them, now it was being used to protect themselves from any potential…sticky situations. "Yes, my knight master." She replied, taking a final look around the room to make sure that she hadn't forgotten anything.

Jon came out of the chamber, chuckling as he went before shutting the heavy wooden door behind him. He turned to her, and he simply…stopped; eyes focused on her. A small smile touched his features, and she blushed slightly. A moment passed – a moment which felt a lot longer then it actually was, before Jon simply nodded at her.

"You don't look half bad yourself," she replied with a tilt of the head. Most certainly he did not, clad in fairly tight breeches and white shirt as he was. He truly did look like a King now, something which she never really understood. He seemed to be able to slide in and out of the 'mask' with ease; he could look Kingly and Royal one moment, and just Jon the next. Something which she could never hope to achieve, it appeared.

They had eventually decided that it would be better to under-dress than to go over the top with what she was to wear. After all, it was just a lunch they were going to; to turn up as if she were at a ball or something similar would probably cause more questions than if she turned up in something a little less formal than would have been considered 'appropriate'. After a fairly extensive look through her – this Alanna's – wardrobe, they'd found something which would work well. Or at least, that they hoped would work well. Thankfully, it wasn't a dress, something which Alanna felt would have been far too formal for a mere lunch anyway – something she felt that this Alanna would (hopefully!) still consider. "No matter which world I'm in," she had told Jon half-jokingly, "I do hope that I'm still more at ease in breeches and shirts than skirts and blouses."

They had chosen a blouse, however, though it was not terribly flashy. Flashy being a relative term; when Jon had pulled out the silken green blouse, she had considered it very much over the top, though Jon had assured her that it wasn't. Once she had tried it on, however, she had given in – silk, so she had discovered, felt very nice when worn all the time.

"Why thank you, Squire." He replied, smile becoming particularly warm. "Though I don't think anyone will notice while you're standing beside me."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh please. I'm in breeches and a blouse, Jon – I'm not exactly made up to look nice here."

Jon shrugged his shoulders slightly, "Doesn't mean you're not." He told her softly, before moving over to her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he leant into her, "You look beautiful, Alanna. Although I've always thought you were."

"Even when I was attempting to look like a boy?" she asked, jokingly. It was strange how the kiss (kisses?) they had shared a scant few minutes beforehand had simply dissolved all the tension between them – she had rarely felt quite at ease as she did now, standing as close to him as she was. "Did you find me beautiful then?"

"Well…" Jon seemed to be searching for an answer which wouldn't get him into trouble, and Alanna laughed. "Alright, no I didn't. Not really." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Uhh…well, I didn't until a certain point, anyway."

That surprised her; "Really?" she asked, "When was that? And did you find me…attractive after that?"

He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "I did. Or at least, I think that there was a single moment, anyway. Do you remember the Drell Valley?" He asked as he brought his head down to face her once more. She nodded, and he continued. "I think it was around then; early on during the campaign anyway."

"Which part?"

"I'm not sure, it was so long ago now." He replied, sadly. His arms slid down, and he gently wrapped her with them until she was leaning (perhaps pressed would be a better term, not that she was necessarily complaining) up against his chest. After a brief pause, he began again – she could feel his words from her current position, an incredibly comforting feeling. "But I think it had something to do with a horse."

At that she frowned, "What?"

He chuckled slightly, sending reverberations through his chest and into her. "I just remember you sitting in front of me, or something. We were very close, and you had your back to me." Shrugging, his grip loosened on her. She snuggled back into his grasp instinctively, "I can just remember…feeling you, rather than seeing you. And…I don't know." Suddenly, he chuckled slightly. "I suppose that you felt female, I guess. Something which I may not have really realised before. After that I saw you differently. I saw you not as a scrawny boy who was more than he may have appeared, but as a girl who was going through a hell of a lot. More than I was, at any rate."

"That's not true," she told him when he finished, "You were the Prince, Jon. And your mother was ill – you were under a lot of pressure too."

"Maybe, but at least I wasn't carrying around such a huge secret." He pulled away from her then, holding her at arms length while looking down into her face seriously. "I couldn't have done what you did, I don't know anyone else who could have. I mean, the mental strength and stamina alone you possessed is something which…" he shook his head, as if he didn't believe it himself. "You have no idea how much I was – and still am! - in awe of what you accomplish. Every time a report comes in detailing something you've done to save lives, or helping to rebuild a community or whatever, my respect – my adoration of you simply grows."

Praise was something she had never dealt well with, "Jon, I didn't do all that much, really. I just managed to scrape by every day, you have no idea how close I came to giving up."

"But you didn't! You didn't give up, and you 'just scraped by every day' for eight years, Alanna! You passed the Ordeal where many strong men have failed, you believed in your own convictions about Roger when no-one else would support you!" Except, she mentally interjected, for George…"Alanna, you are a hero, that's all that can be said about it; a true champion. And moreover, you're my hero."

Well. That surely sent a bit of a shock to her brain. He'd thought about this a lot, it appeared – about her a lot. Regardless, it was most certainly nice, even if she didn't particularly agree with all the sentiments involved. A warm glow spread through her, as if Jon's words had sparked a fire within her, and a smile twitched on her face. "Uhh," she managed to stammer out, "I don't…I don't really know how to respond to that." She replied, truthfully. How could one reply to that? Say 'thank you very much'?

As it turned out, however, Jon didn't seem to be expecting any response; her stuttering was soon cut off by his lips pressing down onto hers softly. It wasn't as passionate as the kisses they'd shared earlier, but it did seem to be saying so much more; tender as it was, it truly did indicate the depths of his feelings for her. She responded in kind, deepening the kiss as she allowed him to wrap her into his embrace. Hold me. Love me…

A few seconds later they broke apart, and with a shared glance, made their way towards the door.

***

The Scanran lunch hadn't been quite as troublesome as she had expected, thankfully. Perhaps it was just the joyful mood she was in, but the Scanrans truly did appear to be quite well versed in decorum – in other words, they hadn't insulted her once. Quite a change from the few Scanran 'diplomats' she had met during her own (admittedly brief) stays in Court. She was loathe to use the term 'savage', but…

Smiling, Alanna realised that she couldn't really finish that thought. Scanran's were savages, a lot of the time. Their leaders were, anyway. So why were these diplomats so well behaved? She didn't really have any clue; maybe it would be something to ask Jon later. At the moment, however, she had another question on her mind. More specifically, she wanted to ask Thom about whether he knew something about the spell they had been caught in; whether this Alanna and Jon had traded places with them, or the like. She wasn't necessarily sure she wanted George to be exposed to this other Alanna – if only because of certain…questions which could well arise when they returned home.

She bit her lip as she realised just where that thought was taking her; she never wanted George to find out what had happened here, nothing detailed, anyway. Actually – just nothing about how she had reacted to Jon here. 'They never need to find out', Jon had told her the other day, and he was right…to a degree. They didn't need to find out, and indeed she wondered whether it would be best for all involved if they never did find out. Such a scenario, however, relied upon the fact that when they returned home, Alanna would stop feeling these thoughts about Jon, would stop being so attracted and drawn to him. If such a thing happened, then she'd once more be totally devoted to George, and he never needed to know that she had been tempted for a while…

The question was, of course, was this attraction to Jon simply something which existed here? She supposed that the answer to that question was something that would be discovered in due time – all she could do now is work towards getting back to her world. And how, a little voice in her mind asked, does Jon fit into all of this?

Well…that's what she wasn't necessarily sure of at the moment. Devotion in opposition to enjoyment? Passion over reason? She could live with what she had done, she was sure of that at least. And she most certainly did enjoy what she and Jon had been engaging in…

Just because he may never know does not mean that he's not a victim in this…

"Alanna!"
A call from behind her cut through her thoughts, and she spun around smoothly to see Gary trotting down the corridor towards her. She stopped, and dipped her head in greeting. "Gary."

"I take it the lunch is over?" He asked once he had caught up beside her. She started to walk off again, heading towards the East wing and Thom's rooms, and nodded in response to his question. "Good, good. How do you think it went?"

Alanna internally winced; what did Gary want to hear? Was she supposed to make a really astute political answer here, or was 'the food was nice' adequate? She made a decision, turning to her friend with a wide smile on her face. "Well Gary, if I was to make any such comment on the lunch, I would say that the Scanran's were far more diplomatic than I had expected them to be." There. That was safe, wasn't it?

It appeared so, as Gary nodded violently. "I know! It's quite amazing, isn't it? Seeing the difference between them now and them all of only three years ago. It's truly astonishing to see what they've managed to do over there."

She decided that it probably wouldn't have been particularly smart to ask exactly what had happened to Scanra, if only because Gary would inevitably launch into a far-too-long telling of recent political events. Besides, she should probably be expected to have known this. Another topic seemed the best option at the moment; "So Gary," she quietly asked him as they walked, "these…threats…that we've been told about. To us, me and Jon I mean – any news on them?"

The Prime Minister winced, and thought for a moment. "Not really," he eventually responded. "Just what you've probably been told before. We still can't track where they're coming from- even Thom can't manage to find out who is sending them!" he shook his head in disbelief. "But we've found one thing out for certain, at least."

"What's that?"

"They originate within Corus." Gary said, solemnly. "Someone within Corus wants the two of you dead."

***

The doorway to Thom's room was not on fire today, which she supposed was a good sign. Even if it was an illusion, it had still unnerved her. Was he that worried that someone would enter unannounced?

No point in tempting fate, she thought as she knocked on his door. "Thom? You in there?" she called out. A grunt was her reply, and the door swung open of its own accord, greatly surprising Alanna. All but stumbling in, her lack of balance prompting a laugh from her brother, she sank down into a nearby chair.

"I know walking can sometimes be difficult, Alanna," Thom mused condescendingly, "but if you follow the basics – you know, one leg after another, you can't go far wrong."

She shot her brother a most un-loving glare. "Very funny, Thom. Maybe you should have been a Court Jester instead of an all-powerful Sorcerer."

"I would have been good at that," he replied, seemingly more engrossed in the papers on his desk than Alanna's comments, "Everyone always laughs at my jokes, don't they?"

"Maybe they're laughing at them." Alanna mumbled under her breath.

"I heard that."

She rolled her eyes, "Good for you."

Thom turned around to face her then, a small smile tugging at his lips, "Look, do you want me to turn you into a newt? Because that's what is going to happen if you continue with these poor come backs." He threw up his hands, "I mean, you're not even trying, are you?"

"Can you do that?" she asked, ignoring the last comment. "The newt thing, I mean."

Thom nodded, "Oh yes. With ease. Would you like to test it out?" he added as a wild grin came over his face.

"Err….no." she replied, "Though I must say, that's….that's quite an effective threat, actually."

"Thank you, I thought so." Thom stated simply, turning back to his papers. "Now is there a reason you came to see me, or did you just feel like sniping at your brother?"

:"Oh, right." She said stupidly, "Well, there was really only one thing I wanted to ask you. And it kind of relates to…well…how we got here. Me and Jon."

"Alright then. I'm not sure if I'll be able to help, but ask away."

She nodded, "Thanks. Anyway, what I'm wondering really relates to what happens – or perhaps has happened, I don't know – in our world." Frowning, she realised just how difficult it was to explain her thoughts on the matter. "Uh, that is to say – have we just swapped over completely? Did this worlds Alanna wake up in my bed while I woke up in hers?"

It seemed that Thom too might be somewhat confused by her question, "You mean…has anything been changed in your world?"

"No," she replied quickly, before thinking it over a little more thoroughly, "Well, yes. In a way, I suppose. I want to know what happened to the other Alanna. This worlds' Alanna."

Thom sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "To be honest?" he told her after a minute or two of – what she hoped was intense thinking, "I have no idea. I don't know what Spell brought you here, so I can't really give you any idea of what happened to the other Alanna, or even of yourself."

"Well, can you take a guess?" She asked quietly, just wanting an inkling. Anything! "Have you got any idea of what may have happened? Anything at all?"

He turned to her then, a questioning look on his face. "I don't- No. I honestly don't have any idea – most transportation spells work by moving one object from one place to another. I'm not sure what happened here, how it seems that you've replaced another object. I just don't know." He raised his hands, warding off any potential aggression on her part. Alanna sighed in defeat, dismay flowing through her as she let her head drop. "Why do you want to know?"

She looked up at Thom's question, wondering if she should tell him. In the end she decided that it couldn't really do any harm – besides, he probably knew a little of what was going through her mind already, based on the conversation the two of them had yesterday. "I just…" she began, before biting her lip. By Mithros this is uncomfortable! "I just wanted to know what could potentially have happened to m-my family."

"What do you-? Oh, do you mean in relation to…to George?" he replied, seemingly understanding her dismay. She nodded softly, and Thom sucked in his breath. "Well, as I said, I honestly don't have a solid idea of what would have happened. However, based on what happened to you…"

"Yes?" she prompted after he trailed off, "What?"

"I'd imagine that something similar happened to her." She didn't quite understand what he was getting at with that, and her face seemed to telegraph this fact quite well. "Look," Thom continued, "I think she probably 'took your place' just as you took hers."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh." He echoed her sentiment, "But – at the end of the day, that'd just be a guess. I don't know really what happened to either one of you."

She nodded, shock still playing through her mind; this wasn't the best news she could have heard. Still, perhaps she should take hope from the fact that Thom didn't know precisely what had happened to her, perhaps they hadn't just swapped over. "Well," she said simply to her brother, "thanks for the information, anyway."

"A pleasure," he told her, "And I would say 'anytime', but I'm not entirely sure on that one."

Frowning at that, Alanna realised that – well, to be frank, she'd never really seen Thom being busy. He was always just…reading, "I thought you were fast at reading?"

"Hmm? Oh, I am. There's just a lot of stuff that needs to be read." He picked up a page off the desk, "Lots of spells that need researching."

"What for?"

He shrugged at that, "Various things. Bettering the lot of the populace, that sort of thing."

A worthy aim, "Oh. Right."

"A lot of detective work lately," he continued over her, "Lots of hunting down people."

"Like those who send those threats about, uh, the King and Queen?"

He nodded, "Yes, those in particular I've been researching a lot."

"Gary told me- uhh…" she trailed off. Thom probably wouldn't like her rubbing his face in the fact that he hadn't managed to work out where they were coming from. Best to leave off it for now. "Uh, do you have them here?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

Thom frowned slightly, "Yes, they're just there." He pointed to a pile of papers on his desk, "Why do you ask?"

"Can I see them?"

The frown on Thom's face deepened, "I suppose so. I don't quite know why you'd want to, but…sure, go ahead."

With a smile of thanks, she made her way over to the pile of papers, and began to rifle through them. Eventually, she found a bound stack of small white squares, each with neat writing all over them. She held them up to Thom, and he nodded – so these were the threats. She began to unravel the string binding them together so that she could have a closer look at them.

"How'd the meeting with Cooper go the other day?" Thom asked suddenly, eyes down at the page in front of him. "I meant to ask the other day, but I forgot at the time."

She shrugged, her mind only half on the answer as she sought to free the papers. "Not well, I suppose would be the best answer."

"How so?"

"He hates me." She answered simply, letting the pain slowly flood into her. It wasn't quite as raw as it had been – she'd come to realise that her George and this George were most certainly not the same man, but it still hurt. A tear threatened to force its way out of her, but she held it in with all her strength; she was not going to fall apart on this, from the words of someone who she really didn't know.

Thom sighed in sympathy, "Did he tell you why?"

"No," she responded, "he would barely talk to me." She closed her eyes, letting the small bundle fall to her side for a moment. Compose yourself! "I just- I don't understand what could have happened to what we had. I mean, I understand that things would have been strained because of my…choice, but this-!"

"This is the result of a bitter man," Thom replied softly, "You and I discussed this often in this world. George just couldn't handle rejection, that's all. You and Jon did nothing to incite him, he just became a very sour individual. It's not your fault, it was never any fault of yours."

She laughed at that, "I don't know if I believe that," she whispered sadly, "But I suppose you know what occurred here better than I do. It just- It's just hard to believe, really. That the man I…that I love could change so much."

"But hasn't everything else changed too?" Thom pointed out, and she looked over towards him. He'd stopped his work now, and was turned around in his chair to face her. "I mean, isn't it somewhat improbable to think that Cooper couldn't have changed as well?"

She nodded, he was right of course. But still! George had changed so much due to this one decision – could he change like that in her world? She had never thought so; but the situation here was causing her to re-examine that fact. Something Thom had said caught in her awareness, and she frowned. "Why do you call him that?" She asked, "Why Cooper?"

Thom grunted, and turned back to his work. "George Cooper and I," he replied plainly, "do not get along. We never really have, and I don't suppose that we ever really shall."

"Oh," she hadn't expected that at all – in fact, she had always considered that Thom and George would have gotten along quite well. "Why not? I mean, is there any one reason for it?"

"No, not really. I just-" he winced, or at least she thought he did. It was difficult to tell from where she was currently standing, "He never really left you alone, Alanna. Not even when you asked him too; he seemed to just hang around and cause trouble between the two of us and between Jon and yourself. He just never grasped the concept that he was different than us."

She frowned at that "What do you mean?"

"Just that we were all part of the Crown by then, we were Royalty. And alright, admittedly that didn't necessarily change who we were or the friends we have. Well, that's what you would always claim anyway – but the truth of the matter was that it did. We all changed because of it, including George. He would still treat you as if you were a Squire, ask you to sneak out to the Dancing Dove at nights to see him and so forth. He didn't understand that you just couldn't because of who you were. Then when you told him that you couldn't, he'd get angry with you and – from what you told me, sometimes physical."

"P-physical?" she echoed softly – she couldn't believe that George would get violent, she wouldn't believe it!

Thom nodded softly, "Nothing excessive I don't think, probably because he knew that you were more dangerous than he was, but you – she – showed me some bruises that George caused once or twice. It caused quite a fuss between Jon and him, I can tell you that."

No! George would never do that…! But do you know this George like you know your own?

"Anyway," Thom continued, shaking her out of her internal argument, "He just generally caused trouble. It was better for everyone concerned when you put your foot down a few years ago and forbid him to ever see you again."

Alanna was shocked by this conversation, that was really the only way she could put it. The insight into what had happened to George here, and more importantly how he had reacted to it, shook her to the core. If it could happen to this George, who as far as she knew was just like her George until she made her decision when she was with the Bazhir, then could it happen to her own? She didn't know, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to find out. "Oh, well…thanks for the information." She muttered, still not totally centred after what she had just heard, "Thanks for the information Thom. I'm just- I think I'm just going to…um…go now." She pointed to the door, hoping that Thom would understand.

He nodded, and without turning around waved at her. "Glad to be of service," he said to her simply. "Don't think to much on what I told you, please. I'm sure the George in your world is nothing like this one. But you should be aware of what I told you if you try and contact this George again."

She returned his nod, and after forcing a smile onto her face, strode out the door.

***

It was only after she'd all but reached her and Jon's rooms that she realised that she'd forgotten to return the letters that she'd taken from Thom. The threats that had been sent to them. Thinking on it for a moment, she decided that she'd already come too far to return them to her brother now (besides, she hadn't yet read them), and secondly that it would not be the best idea to read them while she was standing in the centre of a corridor. Better by far to reach her rooms before attempting to finish unraveling the pages and reading their contents.

So she made her way back into the large Royal chambers, passing by the large wall hanging as she did so. Perhaps for the first time since arriving here, the hanging made her think of the present rather than the past. What Thom had said at the end was true – that her George may well have no connection to this George, but she couldn't be certain. Her devotion had been shaken, she knew that – in fact she'd felt that on more than one occasion; the embraces she had shared with Jon not only felt right in many ways, but they also felt more right than such things had ever felt when she and George had been involved in them. Her questioning of her absent husband now seemed only the icing on the cake, so to speak – how could George have acted as Thom had described here? She did know that things up until the point where she had accepted Jon's proposal in the desert were the same, meaning that George had this…vileness within him even in her world. Had he lost it over time? She couldn't say no…

Nor could you possibly know, the rational voice whispered. She supposed it was right; passing judgment on George when he wasn't even around was something she would have to avoid. When she returned she could…talk with him about things, but she shouldn't make such judgments now.

As she opened the door to her chambers, she noticed with some annoyance that the lamps had all been extinguished – the room was, in the late-afternoon light, somewhat dark and shadowed. She closed the door behind her, before setting down the letters and beginning a search for something to relight them with. However, what she found was quite different.

When she made her way into the other large chamber, a voice spoke up from the shadows behind her – from just beside the entrance to the room. "Alanna," it whispered, and she spun around on the spot ready to kick the interloper in the jaw. She couldn't tell who it was in the gloom, but she did know that anyone who snuck into the Royal bedchambers was someone who simply had to be watched and watched carefully.

"Who are you?" she stated loud and plain, "Show yourself."

"Just calm down!" the - somewhat familiar - voice whispered harshly, "Don't talk quite so loud!"

"And why shouldn't it? After all, I'm not the one in someone else's bedchamber."

"Y'were the other night," the voice bit back, "At least I had the decency to whisper to you."

Ah, so that's who it was. "George?" she questioned, hoping to validate her theory. Indeed she was right, as George moved out of the shadow and into the low light. To be honest, she found herself somewhat frightened by his appearance – the horrible patch was still there, and his scarred face seemed to be even harder in this light. Thom's words fresh in her mind, she took a step back without thinking. A soft snort came from the man in front of her, "Aye, it's you then. Disgusted by the sight of me, that's Alanna."

Biting her lip, Alanna didn't reply to that. Instead, she stood where she was – purposefully not taking another step back, nor a step forwards. "Why are you here?" she asked of him instead.

The question seemed to throw George for a moment, as if he didn't quite know himself. As it turned out, that was probably an accurate guess. "I-I'm not sure," he replied honestly after a beat, "I just-" he sighed loudly, letting his shoulders sag as he closed his good eye.

"What?"

"You said something to me the other night. Something which made me…I don't know, I guess you could say curious."

"What was it that got you curious?" She prompted, although she thought she already knew the answer.

"You said you loved me," George replied, "I just- It stuck with me."
"As I recall, you told me that I was lying, and that I should get out." She shot back, still somewhat pained by both what he had said then and what she had since learned. "Were you curious to find out what effect that had on me?"

"No, I-!…I'm sorry for that, I shouldn't have said it, and I apologise for it." He looked her square in the face then, "But there was also another thing. You said you weren't the Alanna that I knew."

She nodded, "That I did."

"Was it true?"

"Of course it was true!" she replied harshly, "Why would I have lied about something like that? Why would anyone have lied about something like that?"

"I don't know! I just found it somewhat hard to take in!" he threw up his hands, "It's not everyday that someone you have known for decades suddenly tells you that they're not the person you thought they were!"

Alanna recently had grown to know that particular feeling – be it Jon or George, the concept of hidden depths, hidden thoughts to people's minds was something that she'd have to think over carefully. Well, possibly – rational thought had often been a problem for her, something which raised more questions than it answered. "Well it's not everyday that something like this happens to me! I don't even know what happened to me! Thom doesn't even know what happened to me!"

George's eye seemed to light up at that last comment, but instead of picking up on it he instead simply shook his head, "Well you're certainly as aggressive as Alanna is – if you are a different person, then you're certainly very similar."

"I'm aggressive?" she queried his comment, "From what I've heard, you're a particularly aggressive person here, so don't go around accusing me of being aggressive or anything!" The nerve of him! He didn't even know her, not who she really was!

"From what you've heard?" George repeated, "What does that mean? Who's been telling you things about me?"

She shook her head; he probably wanted to know who'd told her the truth about him, "My brother told me the truth about you," she replied, "About how different you are from the George I know. From the George I truly love." She wasn't quite sure why she was being so hostile to him; Thom's words had certainly triggered something within her, however. Maybe it was that this person, the face of the person she had loved so much over the past decades was being worn by this…this…cretin. "He told me everything."

He just laughed softly and moved past her, sitting down on the large bed in the bedchamber. She narrowed her eyes at him as he did so, but he ignored her. "Thom," he repeated softly as the revelation sank in, "the lovable Master Sorcerer strikes again, has he?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

George looked up at her then, a serious expression on his face. He slowly raised himself to his feet, and just as slowly moved towards her. Looking her square in the eye, he seemed to be debating whether or not to reveal something to her. "Alanna," he whispered eventually, "I'm going to tell you something, and I hope with all my heart that you believe what I say. I won't lie to you – I've told the same thing to the Alanna from this world, and she didn't believe me on it. Something which I fear may someday cost her her life, as well as other's close to her." He licked his lips nervously, "You told me you love me. Based on what you told me, I gather that you don't really – that you love the George from your own world. You have no idea what learning that fact has done to me, the mix of joy and despair at learning it. I beg of you, on the honour of this George that you do love, please believe me in what I say."

"What is it?" she prompted after he had finished his pleading. It had shaken her, she would admit that – this George obviously thought it important. Though was that important? If what Thom had said were true…

"I don't know how else to say this," George continued, "So I'll just lay it out there. I am not the one you have to be wary of. Thom is."

She didn't know what else to do – so she laughed softly. "You're kidding." She finally managed to stammer out after she regained her composure. "You have got to be kidding me, because I know you can't be serious on this."

"I am." He replied simply, "Deadly serious."

"Right," she said with a heavily sarcastic tone, "Right! Thom's the one I've got to look out for and be careful of. It's him who's been threatening my life as of late, is it? Because I knew from the first moment that they were brought up – by Thom himself - that Thom was the one sending those letters to me, to me and Jon." She pointed to the stack of threatening letters which she'd lain on the bed. "Damn my brother! He always was too good at forgery for his own good."

"Alanna, please!"

"No!" She retorted, "You don't get to 'Alanna, please' me! Not when you make up such ridiculous claims and attempt to make me believe them."

George's lip twitched for a moment; she wasn't sure entirely what that was supposed to indicate, but she supposed it wasn't good. She took a step back from him anyway, reflexively, and shook her head. Grinding his teeth, George continued to stare at her. "Which letters?" He finally asked.

She pointed behind him to the bundle, "The death threats that me and Jon have been receiving. The one's my brother – the one who so obviously I need to be wary of – can't work out who is sending."

Picking them up, George took a closer look at them. "You're right," he told her after a pause, "Thom didn't write these-"

"Thank you."

"-I did."

Eyes bulging, Alanna wondered whether her ears had suddenly become very, very confused. "I'm sorry? Did you just say that you are the one who wrote these letters?" she asked, and George nodded. A large smile settled across her face, "Right! So in fact – despite the simple truth that you appear to be threatening myself and Jon and Thom has been nothing but helpful since we've come into contact with him – despite all that! I'm supposed to be wary of him instead of you. Now, I may be alone in this, so please correct me if I'm wrong, but that really isn't making a whole lot of sense to me."

"I know how it looks-"

"I really don't think you do," she replied, scathing.

"Alanna,"

Overriding his words, she laid out what she wanted from him. "I also really think that it would be best if you left now."

"Alanna, look-" he implored of her again, his voice hardening.

But she would have none of it. "No!" she shouted, "You're not going to sway me on this – I will not allow you to say these ridiculous claims about my brother while it's obviously you who I have to worry about! Now if you won't leave of your own accord now, then I can get some Guards who would force you to go!" She stepped in close to him then, raising a finger to jab into his chest. "How dare you make such claims! How dare you let your bitterness interfere with me and my family!" She hadn't thought on it until she said it – but to her surprise, she found that she meant it…to an extent, anyway. She loved her family back home, and she desperately wanted to return to them – but Jon and Thom here were like another family, a second family which she had come to rely upon. Jon in particular...

Her thoughts, however, distracted her from reality – something which was brought home by the ease with which George grabbed her. Taking her wrists in his own, he stood over her solidly. "Would you kindly shut up for a moment?" He whispered to her harshly, not waiting for any reply before continuing, "I honestly don't care what you think of me. I've gotten beyond that by now – I know that the woman I love has loathed me for years, and I can live with it. I can't accept it, because I don't believe that she's thinking for herself, but I can live with it. What I do care about, however, is saving that woman's life, and that is what I am doing here."

"Let go of me." She warned him in a low tone, "If you don't-"

"I thought I asked you to shut up," George replied in answer, before pushing her backwards onto the bed. As she landed heavily (though not painfully – the bed was too well made for that), the bundle of letters bounced beside her. George pointed to them, and she turned her head to look at them. "Have you read them?" he asked her.

"No." she replied, "I haven't. I don't particularly want to read a letter in which you threaten the lives of myself and Jon. I brought them here planning to read them, but I had hoped to learn who was behind them – now that I know who it was, I don't see any point to it."

Shaking his head, George snorted at her. "Who said anything about me threatening you? If you'd actually read the damn things before accusing me of such actions, then maybe you wouldn't have made such ridiculous claims of your own."

She glared at him then, if for no other reason than the tone of his voice. He was right, in a way – she shouldn't have just assumed as to what their contents were. But why would Gary and Thom have lied to her? Still, best to rely upon her own eyes. "I'll read them now." She stated solidly.

He nodded his head in…well, he probably thought it was permission. This George, whatever his 'crimes' or lack thereof, was a lot more prickly than her own, at any rate. Glaring at him once more as she did so, she purposefully took her time in removing the bindings from the stack. Once they were removed, she picked one at random, shifting a little where she lay so that the light would better allow her to read the parchment.

'The King and Queen should not leave the palace during the Week of Remembrance. Their lives may be placed in peril if they do.'

Raising an eyebrow, Alanna picked up another. The sentiment was almost exactly the same; that the King and Queen could find themselves in terrible danger by the end of the Week of Remembrance. Eventually, after glancing through a handful of the notes and discovering that they all had similar thoughts behind them and were written in similar ways, she looked up at George.

"Well?" he replied, a small smile gracing his lips. "Anything you wish to say to me?"

He wanted her to apologise?! Was he insane? "I am not going to apologise to you," she stated simply, "Quite frankly, I have to say that these notes are actually very ambiguous in their meaning."

"Oh come on!" George all but shouted, "You're not seriously going to hold me on the 'they're death threats' idea?"

She ground her teeth, "Granted. I may have made a slight…misjudgment on that."

"Slight? Aye, " he rolled his eyes at her, "What made you think that anyway? Who told you that they were death threats?"

"Gary," she told him quickly, almost too quickly in a sense, since he tilted his head and looked at her with a questioning gaze. "And Thom." She added, reluctantly.

"Ahh, Thom. Always very quick to misjudge anything I say."

Narrowing her eyes, Alanna decided that it was high time to put a stop to this. "I'm not going to believe what you say about him," she told George plainly. "I may have misjudged the threats, but I still will not believe that Thom is 'out to get me' or any other such nonsense."

"I don't know what he wants with you," George replied, seemingly ignoring what she had said, "But I do know that he is not looking out for your best interests. I know as well that he is someone that you should be paying more attention to than you are now, someone who knows more than he is letting on."

"What do you mean?" she replied.

"Would I be off in suggesting that the night you arrived here in Corus – well, this Corus anyway, was all of 2 nights ago?"

She blinked. She'd never told him when she and Jon had arrived here. He could have worked it out, she supposed, but…"How did you know that?" she asked instead. It would be far easier to ask him plainly, after all. He may well be lying, but…she could work that out later.

"I have a good friend named Arram," George replied quietly, "He's a Carthaki refugee who arrived here years ago. Oh, and he's a powerful sorcerer as well."

"And?"

"And two nights ago, Arram told me that he had felt a huge flux of magical energy emanating from the palace." He said to her simply, "I would imagine that Thom is the only person here who has that sort of power."

So?! That doesn't prove anything! He could have been doing any number of different experiments!

George, not being privy to her innermost thoughts, continued, "I would imagine that your brother has more to do with your arrival here than he may have let on."