A/N: I felt this random need to update this evening - you know, the "if I do not update, the world will end and we will all die." Or maybe you don't know that story. That's beside the point.

Okay, PLEASE READ THIS. You all like fantasy riiiiight? So me and my friend (Moonchild) are writing this story called the Thieves of Ollanee, which sorta doesn't have a plot, but that's beside the point. There are two main characters - Fiona, whose point of view Moonchild is writing from, and Layla, who is my character. We have one chapter up so far, and two reviews. PLEASE review. Go to the Favorite authors part of my profile, click on TessChild, read the story, and review! Ta-da! And you can have the honor of being a Hero of the Week! (You know you want to. You might think you don't want to, but you're wrong.)

Anyway, on to JOHEN. I noticed a lot of people didn't remember him, so here's a little description - first JOHEN is JOHANN - I switched his name in the middle of the story on a whim. He was Laeliena's partner thief in Yvonhe, and they were bf/gf. Soldiers took him when he tried to fight the King of Yvonhe's soldiers during . . . well, you'll find more about that in a later chapter. Here are a few things I've mentioned about Johen -

"There was Johen, who was quite the ladies' man besides being a thief. His affairs were always short and carefree. Tari was my best friend, a part elven girl with nothing but their startling green eyes to show what blood ran through her. I had no knowledge what had happened to her. Dein was her brother, younger by a year, but tough as steel. Their parents had been farmers that had died in a bandit raid." Chapter Five, describing Laeliena's friends in Yvonhe.

** - "Laeli, catch!" Johen shouted, tossing the pouch to me. I reached out a hand to grab it, the weight surprising me, and the leather bag bulging with coins. Johen laughed as he swung away from the foreign lady in her fine carriage. He caught up with me, dressed in silks like a bed boy, and we dashed away, the howls and shaking fist of the foreigner following us. He grabbed me and kissed me, twirling me in the air as we laughed hysterically. "Now," he said, plucking at his yellow fluffy sleeves, "I ought to get out of these." Fresh gales of laughter followed -** - Dream, Chapter Eight

And the dream from the last chapter. Bekkah, I liked your idea about the slippers - I'm actually doing something sort of like that, except with Ella's necklace. And as BlueJewel pointed out, I did have once say "seven hells," and another time "nine hells," just cause I like using those for swears. Of course, I should stick with one number. I could make it eight, but I don't want to use an even number for it. Okay, okay, you can read the story now . . .

I hugging him and crying and all around in a state of disarray as I clung to Johen, eyes melded with his. Three words seemed to march about in my mind, refusing to let another thought near; Johen was alive. Living. My fellow thief, my friend, my love - everything wonderful was represented by him. Or at least, it used to be.

When we drew apart we both became very aware of the stunned princes, the shocked ladies, and one expressionless Seer. Staring at them defiantly, Johen turned away, and kissed my forehead. "By every god there ever was, Laeliena, I have missed you, I thought you lost to me forever."

"Laeliena?!" Three astonished voices broke in, staring at me.

Aiven was staring at me with a face white enough to match his formal robes. "What did he call you?" he asked, voice soft and disbelieving.

"I called her by her name, lord Seer," Johen said, managing to sound both respectful and defiant. Why is it he could manage that and I couldn't? He curled a protective arm around my shoulder. "Surely you've heard her name before."

By this time all three of the youth were standing. "Laeliena," the Mage prince said, eyes wide, "is the name of the Shien. The Princess of Lahtorli. "

"Oh, fun," I said sarcastically, "More titles." Suddenly my attention was caught. "Did you say Lahtorli?"

"This," said the duchess, Landraia, pushing to her feet, "is outrageous! The Princess of Lahtorli is a legend, a myth! The girl lies!"

"I haven't even claimed anything yet!" I protested.

"How can she be a from Lahtorli? The country was destroyed centuries ago," Johen chimed in.

"Do I really get to be a princess? And without marrying anyone?" I asked hopefully.

"If everyone would please . . . be silent for a moment, I would be most appreciative," Aiven said in a voice that basically meant, "shut the hell up or I will make the rest of your very short life excruciatingly painful." We shut up.

"My lady," Aiven said bowing to Kiebess. "Your Grace," he said to the brunette. "Please accept my apologies for this rude interruption of our breakfast. Would you do me the favor of resuming it tomorrow morning?"

They assented, and accepted the princes' apologies and farewells, and reluctantly left. I then had the pleasure of watching the princes and Aiven exchange glares, for Aiven obviously wanted them to leave and they would not. They would have stood there forever if Johen had not taken my hand and pulled me toward my room. "Come on Lael - we have some catching up to do."

With an oath Aiven followed us into my room.

"You can't go into the lady's room!" one of the twins called angrily.

"I can," Aiven responded. "You can't."

The door swung shut, and the three of us were alone.

Aiven stood leaning against the door, dressed in black and dark brown, which matched his eyes. He wore loose, billowing clothes much like what he wore last night; mage clothes. He twisted a ring back and forth on his finger, and bit his lower lip. His eyes were cloudy again, glazed, and I was afraid he would prophesize again. He looked unstable, and his fidgeting stilled. I watched his eyes closer this time then I had before - watched them glaze and seem to swirl gently to the right, milky white mixing in with the brown which mixed with the black of his pupil, and mixing with the iris. On top the glassy layer formed. I looked away, feeling too squeamish to watch the odd way his eyes were working. Had they mixed together this much last time?

Johen stood next to my bed, which I sat on. His blue eyes were narrowed as he gazed intently at Aiven, and one hand covered the Quov'in stone imbedded in his wrist. Why? Who had done such a horrible thing to him, and how had he come to serve food in Aiven chambers? How had he gotten to this country in the first place? The last I had known of him, royal soldiers of Yvonhe were taking him to the mines of ShiGallan. And no one comes out of those minds alive.

As I continued to scrutinize Johen, I heard a thump and turned my head to Aiven - to me met by the wall. Quickly lowering my gaze, I found him collapsed on the floor, eyes rolled up in his head - I think. It way have been that the colors of his eyes had just blended so much that I could no longer tell where the pupil was.

I jumped from my bed to go over to him, but Johen grabbed my arm. "Johen, I have to find out what's happened to him," I said, pulling my arm away while offering him an apologetic smile.

"Leave him," Johen said coldly. "He's a Seer. He causes nothing but pain." I glanced at his face, startled, then down to his wrist. I opened my mouth, but was unable to voice the words. Johen's mouth twisted. "He did not do that," he said bitterly. "I did."

I did.

"Impossible," I whispered. No one could inflict that much pain on themselves. It was like trying o strangle yourself; you passed out before you hands could stop your breathing. A person's body simply would not allow them to implant this jewel in them. The pain it causes . . . I had heard it was constant, and did not stop til the end of one's life. And sometimes not even then.

"Laeli," Johen, whispered, and then he leaned down and clutched me to him, kissing me and shaking. I pulled back, and could instantly read the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. I wanted to kiss him back, but there was Aiven . . . who didn't even like me, but he HAD kissed me. I wasn't going to go and kiss someone else the very next day.

You're being crazy, I told myself. You love Johen, so you should be happy to kiss him. Happy that he's alive. I was, truly. As for my love for him . . .

You love him, I repeated to myself, more sternly this time. And he loves you - well, at least a little bit. Aiven, on the other hand, thinks of you as an obnoxious girl who he only puts up with because you're the daughter of the Eternal Lah'nayin.

Yet he had kissed me.

I rubbed my forehead, glancing from one to another, my eyes resting on Aiven as I waited for him to speak.

He didn't.

"What's wrong with him?" Johen said, finally seeming to notice he wasn't getting up.

"Um, well, I don't really know. Something." I broke away from Johen but stopped before I reached Aiven, my mind returning to what Johen had said - "He did not do that. I did." My mind didn't seem to be able to understand that concept. It eluded me, as no sane person would torture themselves that way.

"She poisons the blood."

Johen and I both immediately fastened our gazes of the Seer, and I retreated in astonishment. He was - GLOWING, of all things. Casting out a white light, not warm, not cold, just startlingly white, which seemed to originate from his eyes. I was not sure; his eyes were so obscured by the light that I wasn't really positive that was the source of it.

"Laeli," Johen said, "we'd better get out of here."

A moment passed, as I continued to stare at Aiven. Finally I squeaked out a "Yes," and he took my arm and gently pulled me from the room.

"What happened?" I said, turning my golden eyes toward Johen. "Why's he . . . glowing? What's wrong?" My voice rose, and started to shake. "What's wrong with him? What's wrong with YOU? You have one of THOSE jewels and yet you say you put it in your wrist? Is NO ONE here normal?!"

"Oh, Lael," Johen said softly, voice sad. I didn't wait to hear another word, but dashed from Aiven's apartment, sprinting down the halls. I want to go home, I thought, but there was no home for me.

"Oh!" Shouted a figure as I banged into it and we both collapsed on the floor, skirts billowing about. I took a long look at the girl I had crashed into in my heedless run.

She was tall, taller then any of the other ladies, but she didn't look gangly at all - quite a feat when sprawled on the floor. She had brown hair and brown hair, but something in her looked familiar. She was obviously a lady, and had a worried maid standing next to her, who hurriedly helped her up, and then me.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling abashed, and embarrassed at my behavior back in Aiven's suite.

"Perfectly all right, Lady Damslae," the girl said, curtsying to me. I gave a start, wondering how she knew my name. She must have noticed, because she spoke up again, "I sat down the table from you last night," she said with a smile. "Everyone was interested.

"Oh," I said intelligently. "I'm sorry - what's your name?"

"Mariva," she responded, curtsying. "Daughter of Duke Onviton, and niece of King Gonlaintovo."

Amazing. The king had a name. It was a rather odd name, and didn't seem to fit what I'd seen of him. I wondered if he just went by Gonny.

"Oh," I said yet again. That was what I'd recognized about her; she looked a little like her cousins. "So you're a duchess?"

She shook her head, seemingly amused at my naivete, but not unkindly. "My mother is. I'm a lady."

"Well," I said, glancing behind me, "um, this is a little . . . random . . . but I don't suppose I could have breakfast with you? Aiven is bound to be a little mad at me, and - well, could I?" I winced. My court manners were rapidly decreasing. Soon I'd be crawling on the floor and saying, "Me want food!" and "Ooh, fire. Ow! It bite!"

"Of course," Mariva said, which was very hospitable. I don't think I'd let a stranger come have breakfast with me. Perhaps I didn't qualify as a stranger; I was the almighty Seer's guest, after all.

"Is the Seer angered greatly? I know my cousins the princes went to eat at his rooms this morning."

"I have another name, which made them all go somewhat insane." We stepped into a richly decorated greeting chamber, where Mariva and I settled on a deep burgundy couch in front of a fire. "I don't suppose you know who the Princess of . . . uh . . . Latli is? Lateri? Oh, I don't know. Something along those lines."

"Do you mean Lahtorli? The Princess Laeliena?" she asked as a servant handed us tea.

"Yes, that was it. Me."

Her eyes widened, and she twisted to face me. "I thought your name was Damslae!"

"I sort of lied," I said, looking into me tea. "And know Aiven got all mad because he thinks that's impossible because I'm also supposed to be someone else, and apparently it's impossible for them to be the same person. Worse, there's this youth I knew from where I used to live and he's there and he had a Quov'in stone in his wrist which he said HE put there, and for some reason he doesn't like Aiven at all, and- " I broke off and took a long sip of tea, knowing I was babbling.

"Laeliena is the Shien," Mariva said slowly and carefully. "And some believe the Shien IS the Saint, but most do not."

It was my time to look at her with wide eyes. "You know about all of this? I - I don't suppose you could tell me?" I had been puzzling forever about all of Aiven prophecies - if they could actually be explained, in part at least -

Mariva grinned. "It seems you have been left out in the cold concerning all these things. That always seems to be the case with the person that everything centers around the most. I will tell you what I know, and you can show those squabbling little boys up when they're being difficult explaining things.

"Thank you," I said sincerely, smiling back at her. I found like I was settled in and safe for the first time since leaving the farm. I felt like I'd found a friend - not like one of the princes to flirt with or Aiven who would occasionally tell me things and could be kind, if it suited him, or even Johen who I had known for years. Here was a girl who I could talk to and would understand me, for she didn't seem at all stuck of like my previous encounters this morning of Sontái's ladies.

"All right," Mariva said, leaning forward conspiringly, "here's what I know . . ."