A/N: Okie...time for some important plot formation....*ignores groans of readers* You guys can gripe and groan at me all you want, but you won't get anywhere! I'm a VERY stubborn person, and once I have my mind made up about something no one can change it.......Also, please take note that the war between Tortall and Scanra hasn't happened yet...that will play a key part in this chapter....
Disclaimer: I'm getting sloppy about leaving these, so here....um yeah....I don't own it....any of it really.....so um moving on.....
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(A/N: Just so you know, this scene takes place during all the d/n scenes since his last appearance......)
"How DARE he?!" Jarlath roared, slamming his fist against his desk. He sat in his private study, reading the weekly reports from his allies and neighbors. He'd long been awaiting the response from Jonathan, and now that he'd gotten it, he was in a rage. "How dare that, that pig!"
"C-calm down S-sire, I'm sure we may reason with h-him," Feron, Jarlath's personal servant tried to reason with his king and calm his temper, but found his attempts to be in vain.
"Silence!" Jarlath spat, turning his fury upon Feron. He then threw his hands in the air out of anger, letting the response from Jonathan go flying through the air. "I won't stand for this, I won't!"
"W-won't stand for what S-sire?" Feron stuttered and tremnled violently. He was deathly afraid of his king when Jarlath was in one of his rages.
"Tortall has refused my demands, even after the promise of war!" Jarlath began nervously running his fingers through his greying hair. He wanted that Wild Mage. He wanted her so badly that it hurt. He would have her, there was no denying that. She would make the perfect addition to his court. If he planned to make Galla the highest country of the Mortal Realms, he would need to take more steps of authority. He could not by any means let the king of Tortall push him around.
"What I need, is a way to make him wish he'd listened!" Jarlath began thinking out loud, completely ignoring Feron's presence. He threw himself down in his oak wood chair and pulled it up against his desk so he could better view the papers before him. There had to be an answer, there just had to be. It couldn't be that he'd lost favor with the gods. No, he wouldn't make that mistake like his royal cousin Ozorne did. He would succeed, and there would be no stopping him. If only Tortall knew of Galla's vast navy and built up army.
Suddenly, Jarlath's eyes lit up as a malicious and brilliant thought entered his mind. "The allies!" he breathed, hardly daring to believe that he could have just solved his problem. "Yes, the allies! They'll come to my aid, on this account!"
The old king leaped up from his desk and dashed across the room and to the door. Just as he was about to open it and head out, he turned to face Feron, whom he'd just remembered was still in his presence. "Feron," his voice was tinted with deathly steel. It was times like this that Jarlath ought to be feared more than when he was in one of his obvious rages. It was in these times that his mind was still open to rational thought, thoughts to murder. "Fetch me the Scanran delegates, now! Tell them that I summon them to the throne room at once!"
"Y-yes Sire," Feron said, deeply bowing before dashing out of the king's study and breaking into a run as soon as he reached the hall.
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Jarlath strode from his throne room with a wide grin upon his waxen face, amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He chuckled lightly to himself as he walked. He'd done it this time, oh he surely had. This time he would have Jonathan. He'd met with the Scanran delegation that he'd called upon to meet in council with Galla mere weeks ago, and he'd recieved some wonderous news from them. Their king, Maggur, had signed an alliance with Galla. This alliance was no insignificant document to rot in Jarlath's desk, either. No, it was in fact the most important document he'd ever recieved. It ensured that Scanra would go into every war with Galla and help to fight off every foe. It made Scanra as close to being a part of Galla as it was possible to be.
"She'll be mine," Jarlath muttered evily under his breath. Things were working out much better than he'd ever even dared to hope, yet alone expect. It was as if the gods had meant all along for the fair Wild Mage of Tortall to fall into his grasp. He smiled as he thought of all of the possiblities and opportunities she would bring upon her arrival to Galla. Oh how he longed to see her set foot on Gallan soil.
Jarlath was close to skipping in his steps as he walked rapidly back to his study. He had a letter to write, and important one at that. He was eager to claim what should have rightfully been his. The sooner he wrote to Jonathan, the better. It only made sens to send his demands now, for he would rather Veralidaine arrive in Galla in time for the Midwinter festivities, which were mere months away.
As soon as Jarlath stepped into his study, he sat down at his desk, pulling his oak wood chair as close up to the table as it would go. He pulled open the top right drawer and drew out a blank, rolled piece of parchment. He reached for his quill, dipping it in his ink well.
Dear King Jonathan III of Conte:
I regret to inform you that my tolerance ar your refusal of my unnegotiable demands is running dry by the hour. Lady Sarrasri is a Gallan citizen, and in keeping her on Tortallan soil, against her king's will is considered hostaging. This is intolerable as far as I'm concerned. My first reaction to this offence against my counntry and my people would be a declaration of war, but I see it fit to permit you one last chance.
At this time, the conditions have changed. King Maggur of Scanra has just signed a treaty with Galla. Not just any treaty mind you, but one that guarrentees their support in the time of war. I do not think it possible for Tortall to stand alone against the military forces of both Galla and Scanra. I will also remind you, that none of your northern, or even sounthern alliances will be of any use to you. It is against the code of war to coincide with a country who is at war with another while it holds citizens hostage. If they were to aid you, it would be dishonoring the ancient code of war and thus falling out of favor with the gods. I highly doubt if this would sound appealing to them.
I ask for the sake of both Galla and Tortall, and for the sake of peace, that you reconsider your decision of keeping Lady Sarrasri on Tortallan soil. It would be a foolish waste of blood shed to go to war over a mere girl. It is obvious that Tortall would be lost. Do not deny it. Do not dishonor the ancient code. Do not fall out of favor with the gods. You have seen first hand what the consequences were for our royal cousin Ozorne's breaching of the code.
Awaiting You Response,
King Jarlath of Jerkins, Galla
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(A/N: Ok...now we skip away from his Royal Stinkiness and get back to D/N....This scene picks up exactly where the last one did, you know, with Numair deciding to stay in Daine's room for the night......)
As soon as Daine came out from behind the dressing screen in her bed chamber, she found that Numair had already entered and was waiting for her. He had pulled back the quit and sheets of her bed and currently had his lanky form stretched out across it, leaning his back against the wall. Daine noticed that he'd merely removed his shirt and was clad only in his breeches for the night. His boots lay tucked under the bed and his shirt folded neatly in the chair at her bedside.
Daine smiled at him and went to move in next to him. She was clad in a thin, white shift, almost transparent in parts. Almost shyly she pulled back the quilt and sheets on her side of the bed and climbed in. She turned around and ruffled her goose feather pillow a bit, until it was in a comfortable state for her to sleep on. She wrapped the sheets around her bare legs and pulled the down quilt up to just above her breasts.
Shyly, Daine looked over at her lover to find that he already had his eyes locked on her form, staring intently. His lips were parted in a partial smile. He noticed that she was watching him and he blushed. He'd never felt this awkward when he shared a bed with a lover before. He flashed a smile in her direction, which she returned gratefully.It seemed that neither of the two wanted to speak just now. Words weren't needed in a time like this.
Silently, Numair reached for her hand and entwined it with his own. Instinctively, Daine scooted closer to him util she rested within the circle of his arms. Numair lifted his arms up and around her to better accomodate her. He brushed his lips lightly against the side of her neck and said simply, "I love you."
Daine sighed contently at his words, not knowing anything else that would be suitable to do just now. She felt so different now, since her agreement to become engaged to Numair. It was hard to believe that in a short matter of time, depending on their to be decided engagement length, she, Veralidaine Sarrasri would be a married woman. For a good part of her life, she'd taken it as a known fact that she would never marry. All of the villagers of Snowsdale, her own neighbors, had always made it quite clear to her that no respectable man would ever even consider marrying Sarra's bastard. Once again since her arrival in Tortall, Daine had proved the villagers wrong.
"What are you thinking?" Numair voiced audibly, his tone soft and in little more than a whisper.
"That its fair amazing," Daine mused, still stuck in her visions and dreams of married life. As a young girl, she'd always fancied marrying someone,that was, until she'd been old enough to pay more attention to what people said about her. Not long after that point in her life, she'd dreaded the mere idea of it. Now, it seemed so pleasant and welcoming, that it sent chills of pleasure up Daine's spine.
"What's amazing, sweet?" Numair asked curiously, letting his upper body rest against his elbow, all the while still holding Daine in the circle of his arms.
"That we're engaged," Daine supplied, causing him to chuckle merrily at her words. She lightly slapped his shoulder, turning her body in his arms so that her chest wwas pressed against his own and her face facing his. Raising an eye brow, she said, "Pray tell don't laugh at me, Master Mage," she used one of her many nicknames for Numair. She normally used this particular one when she was trying to sound mock vexed with him.
"I'm sorry, Magelet," Numair replied, still chuckling. "How do you feel about it?"
"Different," Daine said simply, unable to supply any single word that she believed to be more fitting. "I feel like I'm flying on warm currents of wind."
Again, Numair found her choice of words amusing. "I know how you feel," he said in agreement. "I've never felt this way before."
"Well then I'm glad I'm not alone," Daine said with a grin, idley playing with his hair, which he'd let fall around his shoulders. He prefered to take it out of its horse tail at night when he slept. Daine thought he looked handsome with it this way.
Daine gasped suddenly when, without warning, he began raining tiny kisses down the side of her neck. He closed his eyes and continued, reaching the neckline of her shift. Pausing only for a brief moment, Numair began kissing all of her exposed skin, leaving her limp and trembling within his grasp. "Mmmmm," was all she found herself able to voice.
Returning the favor, Daine rearranged her position, and kissed his cheek lovingly. She let her lips slide down the side of his face until she found his mouth. She brushed her lips against his, lightly at first, but soon becoming more insistant. She could feel his lips curling into a smile as she performed this task, and felt utter delight when he responded with zeal, kissing her back.
Daine let her body continue reshifting its position, rubbing affectionately against his bare chest. She buried her face in the nape of his neck, smiling when she felt his spare hand entangle intself in her mass of smoky brown curls. They now faced each other once more, eyes transfixed on the other. To an onlooker, it would appear as though the two were bewitched under some sort of spell. They were under no spell; merely free will and love for the other drove them. Daine smiled at her love, and it only broadened when he flashed a grin in return.
"Perhaps we ought to sleep now," Daine suggested after a long while, yawning. She knew very well that they had a difficult task ahead of them tomorrow, and that was announcing their engagement to all of their friends and eventually to the court. How would they react? No one but Daine, Numair, and Neal even knew that thier relationship was no longer platonic. It would surely come as quite a shock when they announced their wishes to wed as soon as possible. "We've a big thing to do tomorrow."
"If you're speaking of the thing I think you are, then I most definately agree," Numair said, letting his eyes dart up to the ceiling thoughtfully. "We've quite a story to tell everyone, Magelet, and I've also got my first classes to teach in months. Its going to over all be a busy day."
Nodding, Daine smiled and turned to her bedside table where her light globe burned and illuminated the room. She put a hand over it, completely covering it, and the light immediately went out, leaving the room in complete darkness. "Good night, love," Numair voiced, yawning.
"G'night," Daine replied, as she shifted her position to a comfortable one for sleeping. It was only then that she let herself drift off to sleep.
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The first rays of light were only just coming over the horizon as Jon began going through the day's mail in his private study. Thayet still slept and he'd promised to dine with her for breakfast, so he found it logical to knock some of this large pile of work away now. Lately, he was very accustomed to awaking at such an hour; at times even earlier. Sleep had become a delicacy for poor Jon.
Yawning, Jon began scanning the papers that were littered all over the surface of his desk with his fingers. For the most part it was the usual reports, even one from Raoul, which was surprising to Jon. Usually, the old knight and commander of the King's Own forgot such reports. Jon found himself chuckling as he read through Raoul's letter. It didn't contain anything of much importance from what Jon could see, but he was grateful all the same for his friend's news, being that he never got any.
After about an hour of such work, Jon was getting extremely tired of it. He stole a glance out of the single window in his study to see that the sun was almost completely up, signifying that his Thayet would soon be up. "I'd best hurry and finish then," Jon said aloud, energized by the hope that he would soon get a decent break from this horrid work load.
It was just as Jon turned back to his desk and piles of paper that he noticed the parchment with the Gallan seal. -Perfect- he thought lamely, -Not another one- Preparing himself for complete boredom and utter annoyance that Jon was sure he would find upon opening the letter from Jarlath, Jon reluctantly broke the seal. Grumbling and making it completely clear that he was in no mood to be doing this, Jon unrolled the piece of parchment to see what was written inside. What he found was a lengthy letter in Jarlath's scrawl. Sighing, Jon went to work reading it. What he read horrified him. "What?" he asked himself, completely alarmed. He let the note fall from his grasp as he slammed his fist hard against his desk. His fist made painful contact with the wood and he recoiled it in pain, idly sucking on it.
Cautiously, hands trembling from anger, Jon once again lifted the note to see if he had read it correctly. After all, it was still early morning, and he hadn't slept much the previous night. He'd made such a mistake before, when he'd thought that Emperor Kaddar of Carthak had declared war against Tortall. Jon groaned in frustration and anger when he soon found that he'd read it correctly the first time around. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "This can't be happening!" He felt so frustrated just now. He threw his head roughly into his wands and began nervously running his fingers through his hair.
"What will I tell her?" he began musing frantically, wondering if there was any way to break this news to Daine that wouldn't break her heart. What he'd read in the letter, was that she would indeed have to go back. There was no way that Tortall could stand a war anytime soon. The recent Immortals War had taken quite a toll on Tortall, meaning they would have to remain peaceful for quite a while to come. Not only that, but Tortall wouldn't be going up against only Galla. According to Jarlath, the Scanran king had signed a treaty with Galla signifying that they would aid Galla in its war with Tortall should there be one. "What in the name of the great gods am I going to do without my Wild Mage!" Jon yelled in utter defiance.
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Daine awoke as the sun began pouring into her room through her open bed chamber window. She could feel the warm rays of sun falling upon her face, and wondered how there could still be so much warmth with Midwinter so close to coming. Yawning, Daine opened her eyes and sat up, almost jumping when she noticed the figure that lay sleeping next to her. She'd completely forgotten that Numair had stayed with her the previous night, and it wasn't as thought she were accustomed to sharing her bed. Smiling, Daine leaned back to rest her head against the wall that her bed was up against. She reached under the quilt and sheets and took hold of her lover's overly large hand.
Remembering suddenly that Numair had mentioned having to teach classes before the noon bell, Daine decided it best to wake him now so that he would have time to dress and eat. "Wake up, Numair," Daine prompted, lightly shaking him. She watched with amusement as his face wrinkled in distaste. He groaned at her antics and turned over onto his side, turning his back to her. Sighing, Daine said, "You'll be late for the day's classes, Numair, if you plan to eat and dress."
Numair's eyes snapped open immediately at her most recent words, making her laugh. He quickly turned his head counter clock wise to look out the window and see where the sun was in the sky. By looking, he knew it was still rather early to be up, but thanked his love all the same. He wouldn't have woken up if she hadn't helped him along. "What time are your classes?" Daine asked once he looked as thought he had properly woken up and had rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
"I'd say I have a good hour and a half before I have to go," Numair supplied, stretching out his limbs and letting his back crack. "If you'd like, I'll throw on my shirt and go down to the Mess Hall and grab some breakfast for the two of us and bring it back here to eat. I should have enough time after eating to run over to my rooms and change into clean clothes."
"I'd like that," Daine said with a smile, leaning closer to him and kissing the tip of his nose. He chuckled and snaked an arm around her shoulders, and up to rest on the back of her head in her hair. He brushed his lips with hers swiftly, but then pulled away within the blink of an eye. When she looked into his face after he pulled away, she found that his features held something like a mock smirk.
"I'll just be a minute, Magelet," he voiced as he rose from the bed, throwing his legs over the side. He walked over to the chair that he'd thrown his shirt over the previous night, picking up his neatly folded shirt. He hastily unfolded it and pulled it on, hurriedly buttoning it up to the top. To save time, he left the top few buttons open. He walked over to Daine's mirror that she had hung by a nail on the wall that rested just above her water basin. He splashed some of the cool water onto his face and began straightening his hair as best he could. He tied his hair back ungracefully in a horse tail just before turning back to Daine. He quickly kissed her on the cheek to acknowledge his leaving and strode out the bed chamber door. It only took a few seconds for Daine to hear the sound of her room door opening and then clicking shut.
"While he's out, I may as well rest some more," Daine mused as she let herself fall back onto her pillow. She pulled her blankets up around her and laid on her back, legs straight. She smiled at the thought of his kindness in going to retrieve breakfast for the two of them. -I'm glad I'm marrying him- she thought dreamily, -He's so sweet-
Just as Daine was about to close her eyes for a quick rest, she heard a soft, yet audible rapping on her door. She could hear Kit trilling from the main chamber of her room where the young dragonet had slept. The previous night, Daine had banished Kit to the couch in the main chamber of her room so that she and Numair could have their privacy, and also because Numair took up a great deal of the bed, leaving no room for the dragonet. Sighing, Daine threw back the covers and swung her leg over the side of the bed. She pulled herself to her feet and went to her bed chamber door. "Just a moment!" she called out to whoever was knocking at her door as she reached for her cotton robe that hung on a nail beside her bed chamber door. She hastily threw it on and exited her bed chamber and went to the door of her main chamber.
Daine quickly turned the brass door knob and opened the door to reveal a page, much younger than Neal, standing before her. He was rather short for his age and had a mass of coppery curls on his head. "Can I help you?" Daine voiced to the young boy, making him jump.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, voice shaking slightly, "I've a message for Veralidaine Sarrasri from the king."
"Well, then you're speaking to the right person," Daine said, wondering what Jonathan could want from her so early in the day. The fact that the message was from the king did explain the young page's nervous manner. Jonathan rarely used the first year pages to deliver his messages, so most of them weren't used to such direct contact from His Majesty. Daine knew from personal experience that Jonathan could be rather intimidating upon first meeting him. "What does His Majesty ask of me?" Daine asked, hoping that it wasn't anything to do with a sick animal to be healed. No matter how many injured animals she'd seen, she could never get used to the sight of such a thing. She dreaded seeing any creature in pain, as did most sane people.
"His Majesty requests your company in his private study, Lady Sarrasri," The page said politely, delivering the king's message.
"All right," Daine replied, trying to hide the disappointment from her voice. She hoped she could finish her business with Jon in a hurry so that she would have time to share breakfast with Numair. -My new fiancee- she thought happily. "Tell His Majesty that I'll meet him there as soon as I can dress."
The page bowed and turned on his heel to leave, dashing down the palace halls. Daine didn't wait to watch him go, she quickly slammed the door shut and dashed back to her bed chamber to change. "Leave it to Jon to summon me when I'm looking forward to doing something else," Daine grumbled as she slipped out of her robe and shift and to her closet to get some clean clothes. She pulled on a pair of plain brown breeches and cream colored shirt. Also, deciding that the halls of the palace had been rather cold lately, she threw on her gray tunic and went over to her water basin to wash her face. She gazed at her appearance in the mirror, and sighed when she saw the mess her hair was in. She attempted to run a comb through it, but found this to be a more difficult task than it sounded. "I don't have time for this!" Daine muttered in her frustration with her gods cursed hair.
Just as Daine uttered these words of frustration, she could hear Kit come up behind her. The dragonet let out a single chirp and then a light trilling and Daine could feel her curls falling neatly into place. "Thank you, Kit!" Daine exclaimed, reaching a hand down to pat the dragonet on the head.
Daine quickly ran to her bedside table and pulled a spare piece of parchment from the drawer. She hastily scrawled a quick note to Numair, explaining her absence in case he were to return before she got back from going to see Jon. Without any further delays, Daine quickly strode out of her room and into the hall. From there she just about ran all the way to Jon's private study, breathing heavily by the time she got there. She lightly rapped on the door, awaiting a response from within. "Come in!" Came Jon's voice from the other side of the door. Daine didn't hesitate to turn the brass knob and let herself in.
Once inside, she found Jon sitting at his desk in the corner, facing the window. She hadn't suspected to find him anywhere else. He turned to face her, and odd expression on his face. His crystal clear blue eyes did not twinkle with delight as they usually did. His manner seemed rather grim. -The war must be getting to him- Daine thought, never considering that the real reason for his mannerism was actually herself. "You wanted to see me?" Daine asked hesitantly, hoping not to disturb him further.
"Yes, Daine, please sit," Jon said grimly, motioning with his hand to a chair across from his own. "Would you like a pastry?" Jon asked politely, though it was obvious his heart wasn't in it. He pointed to a tray that sat on a small table between them.
"No thank you, Your Majesty," Daine politely refused the king's offer, "I already promised Numair I'd eat breakfast with him as soon as I get back from seeing you."
"Ah, well then I shall try not to make this any longer than necessary. Though I must inform you right now, Daine, that it is a very serious matter with which I must discuss with you," Jon's tone hadn't changed in the slightest, making Daine wonder what could truly be bothering him.
"What is it you wish to tell me, Highness?" Daine asked, starting to get a bit worried herself.
"You know by now to call me Jonathan," Jon corrected her idly as his eyes turned thoughtful. "To tell you the truth I don't know how to tell you this, but-" Jon stopped suddenly. He couldn't do it, he just couldn't. How could he possibly tell her that after all she'd done for himself and his country, that he must force her to leave and return to a place she had never wanted to call home? It seemed so cruel and heartless, but did he really have much of a choice? -I have to do it- Jon told himself firmly.
"But what?" Daine asked out of both curiosity and worry. She became even more nervous when the king began shaking his head, emitting a light chuckle. It was far from a laugh of happiness, though.
"Here," Jonathan said lamely, deciding that since he could never tell her himself, he would instead have her read the letter for herself. Perhaps then she would better understand, and maybe not hate him for it.
Daine watched as Jon reached across the distance that separated them, a piece of parchment in hand. Daine reached out a shaky hand and took it from his offering hand. She unfolded it and began to read what it said. She gasped suddenly, once she realized what it said, what it meant. She felt a mix of shock, panic and fear. "W-what is this, some kind of j-joke?" Daine stuttered finally, clinging tightly to the letter.
"I'm afraid not, Daine," Jon said, his words grim and filled with regret. He felt so guilty when he looked into the fear stricken blue gray eyes that lay before him.
"What does this mean?" Daine asked hesitantly, not at all wanting to know the answer, but knowing that she had to. A mass of horrible and terrifying thoughts rampaged through her mind, making her feel ill to say the very least.
Jon hesitated for a moment, thinking carefully of how to best word it. "Daine, it would be impossible for Tortall to risk a war against two powerful countries and stand alone, especially right now," Jon said and hating himself after every word. He saw the deep look of hurt and worry in the young woman's eyes and he couldn't even begin to imagine what she must be feeling right now. Fear? Disbelief? It was all the same at this point.
There was a brief moment's silence in which neither king nor subject spoke. Daine had her eyes glued firmly to the floor, head in her hands. Was she crying? Jon didn't know. He didn't want to know. It would only make him feel more guilt, and that was something he didn't need right now. -We can't risk war- was all he kept telling himself.
"There isn't anything you can do?" Daine questioned Jon as she lifted her head up from her hands. Her eyes were red and her face tear stained. Her voice was filled with a hope and a trust in Jon, and it hurt him that he couldn't be a big enough person to help her.
"I'm sorry Daine, but there isn't," Jon said trying his best not to make it sound as horrible for her as he knew it surely would be. "I'll be writing back to King Jarlath around midday today to see how you are to be transported."
Tears began leaking freely from the Wild Mage's eyes. She'd come here with the intent of discussing whatever Jon wished to, and then announcing to him her engagement to Numair. She had so looked forward to telling all of her friends everything she'd been hiding. Now, it would do her no good. Why tell them anything now? All it would do was make them feel even more remorseful for the fact that they could do nothing. "Jon, are you positive you can do nothing, nothing at all?" Daine made one last final plee.
Jon's eyes snapped open in what appeared to be irritation. When he was at a loss as he was now, or grieving over something, his reaction tended to be not so much sadness, but anger and rage. He had a short temper in such times as these. "No, damn it!" he snapped angrily, unable to stop himself, "You have to go!"
Daine's light crying turned to sobbing. Once again she threw her head in her hands, feeling utterly helpless. All of this had come so fast. All of her fears, all of her haunting nightmares were becoming a horrifying reality and somehow this man thought she should be able to handle it. He'd snapped at her, and in her opinion was being cruel to her, so what more was she to think? -I'm losing my home, my friends, everything I hold dear- she thought sadly, between her tears and sobs.
-Numair-, Daine thought suddenly. She hadn't thought of what she thought now upon first hearing the news. Now, her grief and worry had doubled, no tripled. Her wedding, she'd finally agreed to wed, and now that was jeopardized. -How will I tell him all of this?- she thought frantically, becoming more stressed by the minute. She wished Alanna were at the palace now, so that she could seek advice from the older woman.
"I've things I need to attend to," Daine choked out these words between sobs. She knew she was being more than rude to her king, but she didn't care. Suddenly, she didn't feel so much loyalty to him as she had before this meeting. Her feelings seemed almost treasonous, but again, she couldn't care less.
"You're dismissed," Jon muttered, voice still rather cold. He had no idea where this sudden cruelty had come from, and he didn't like it at all. It wasn't him, yet it always seemed to come. It was this sort of thing that had caused him to lose Alanna all those years ago in the desert with the Bazhir. He felt the need to apologize to Daine, but instead he just waved his hand as a signal for her to leave his presence.
Daine didn't hesitate to rise from where she sat and just about run to the door. She couldn't handle sitting in that room for another second. The tension had been too much for her in this terrifying moment in her life. She grasped the brass door knob, turning it roughly and leaving water marks on it from the tears that had fallen onto her hands. She ran all the way down the halls until she reached her room. -not my room for long- she thought, mind clouded with stress and worry. As she ran, she frantically wiped her hands on her sleeves. She didn't want Numair to see that she'd been crying. Perhaps she wouldn't tell him right away when she got back. Perhaps she would have at least one more time with him that was carefree. She didn't want him to have the burden of going to teach his classes with her welfare on his mind. -Gods I can't lose him-
Hesitant to enter, Daine stood fearfully outside her room door. -I can't do it- she kept thinking to herself. In truth, she wanted the comfort her chambers would bring her, and she wanted to be in Numair's arms. If anything would bring her any reassurance just now, that would be it. Sighing, thinking only of what she would have to do eventually if not now, Daine turned the brass door knob that led to her room and opened the door. She stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. She hoped she could hold a straight face and perhaps a forced smile. She didn't by any means want to worry him.
Once inside, she found Numair awaiting her, features alight with joy at the mere sight of her. This alone made Daine's heart twist painfully. While she had been gone, Numair had brought back two plates filled with breakfast from the Mess Hall for them to share. He had already set them out on her small table, where he sat waiting for her.
Upon seeing her, he stood and went to greet her. He entangled his arm with hers, briefly leaning down to swiftly kiss her lips. "Ah, my beautiful fiancee returns," Numair said, voice gentle yet teasing. His dark eyes were twinkling as he gazed at her. He didn't know it, but his words stung her like a gaping wound. It once again showed her a glimpse of what she would so sorely miss. She still couldn't fully absorb that she was leaving, never to return. She couldn't believe that she wasn't marrying Numair. -Don't give up hope- she told herself. "What did Jon want that was so urgent?" Numair asked, not knowing how much that question pained Daine.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat, causing her to gasp unintentionally. Numair's eyes snapped immediately to hers, a slight look of worry hidden behind them. He, of course, hadn't missed her strange manner, and was determined to find what was going on. "N-nothing, Numair," Daine answered lamely, frantically searching her mind for an excuse. She wasn't ready to tell him, and she hoped he wouldn't press the subject. "He was just checking with me to see if I planned to check the stables today."
Numair raised an accusing eye brow, making it obvious that he didn't by any means buy her excuse. "Shall we eat?" Daine asked, pulling uncomfortably out of his grip. She felt so wrong leading him on like that. She'd only kept this secret from him for a few minutes and yet it felt as though she'd been at it for years at a time.
Daine had intentionally changed the subject to that of the food, hoping to divert him. It didn't work as well as she'd hoped however, for his reply came in a tone that further revealed his lack of belief in her explanation. "Of course," he said, moving to walk before her, and charmingly pulling out her chair for her. She forced a smile at him, for his sake, hoping that it would make things more believable. If he noticed her fake sense of happiness, he didn't show anymore signs of it. Daine still didn't underestimate him for a moment.
Numair had brought back a bowl filled with porridge for each of them, along with a large plate filled with eggs and sausages. As Numair went to take his seat across from Daine, he couldn't help but notice that she had made no move to touch her food. She was acting different just now, as if something big was on her mind. Though he didn't know it, his suspicions were very much correct and he could never imagine just how badly it was hurting her. "Aren't you hungry? You haven't touched your food at all," Numair asked after the moments of silence went on for some time. He'd already started to devour his eggs, but she'd left her plate untouched. Her eyes were transfixed on him, her face bearing an odd expression. As soon as he paid any notice of her, she flinched and looked away quickly. That had done it for him. He would beat around the bush no longer. "Daine, are you sure you're all right? You're acting strange."
"I'm fine, Numair!" Daine said quickly, still refusing to meet his gaze. Numair stood up and went to her side of the table, taking her hands in his.
"Are you sure, sweet?" he asked again, eyes filled with loving worry for her. This was a man who genuinely cared for her.
"Yes," Daine replied shakily, completely unsure of herself. Deep down, she knew she was far from all right, but she couldn't bear to tell him that now. Seeking some sort of assurance and a way to distract Numair from her current state, Daine stood on the tips of her toes and tilted her head to kiss him. He didn't seem to mind her distraction, for he met her half way, catching on to her intentions. He pulled her tightly in his arms, and drew her to his chest. She seemed to melt into him. As their kiss went on, Numair could sense some sort of foreign longing in her, a hunger. He could tell for sure now that something was definitely wrong. In an attempt to comfort her, he deepened the kiss, snaking his arms lovingly around her waste. He felt Daine respond by holding tight to his neck, burying her fingers in his hair.
Suddenly, without warning, Daine jerked away, leaving Numair breathless. She too fought for breath, but her features still clearly showed the worry she felt. "What's wrong?" Numair asked, gasping as he contained himself from the passionate kiss they'd just shared.
Daine couldn't hold back her tears any longer. They burst free in an instant, making her feel as if a heavy burden was slowly being released. She suddenly sought the reassurance of his arms around her. She snuggled in tighter to his chest, burying her face in him. Her crying didn't cease, even slightly. Numair, shocked by her sudden outburst, held her close, rocking her back and forth in his arms. He began murmuring softly into her hair, hoping he wasn't the cause of her distress. "Sweet, what's wrong?" he asked softly, letting his voice hold reassurance. For the first time since Daine had received the news from Jon, she felt safe. She felt as if nothing could ever take her away as she cuddled close to her love and felt his arms grasp tightly around her.
"Numair-" She sobbed now, unable to choke out more than one word for her tears had become more violent. He pulled her even closer, if possible, lightly stroking her cheek.
"Shhhh," he soothed, "I'm here for you. Tell me what's wrong, Daine."
"I-I'm leaving you!" she finally choked out, gasping when she had finished. Her crying became more insistent, but Numair misunderstood her words.
"Daine, this isn't the first time Jon's sent you on a mission for the Crown and I haven't gone," Numair continued to soothe her, not knowing how wrong he was on the way he had taken her words. "You'll be back soon and I'll be here waiting."
"No, I won't be back!" she sobbed, and suddenly he froze, a sudden fear overtaking him.
"W-what does that mean?" he stuttered, hoping he'd heard her wrong. The thought of her leaving and not coming back terrified him.
Daine lifted her face from his chest and looked him directly in the eye. She saw a sudden fear in his eyes, such a fear she had never seen in him before. She felt that she must settle down, if not for herself then for him. She had to stay calm, to make things easier for Numair. Taking a deep breath, Daine forced back her tears, trying her best to hold a steady face."Numair-"
"Daine," Numair interrupted quickly, voice hushed and worried, "Are you trying to tell me you want this to be over?"
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A/N: Hehehe....cliffy, cliffy, cliffy! Please let me apologize again for taking so long to update, but, as you can see this is a considerably long chapter.....please review if you want this cliffy taken care of properly and also tell me what you'd like to see! Who knows.....I just might listen! ^_^
Disclaimer: I'm getting sloppy about leaving these, so here....um yeah....I don't own it....any of it really.....so um moving on.....
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(A/N: Just so you know, this scene takes place during all the d/n scenes since his last appearance......)
"How DARE he?!" Jarlath roared, slamming his fist against his desk. He sat in his private study, reading the weekly reports from his allies and neighbors. He'd long been awaiting the response from Jonathan, and now that he'd gotten it, he was in a rage. "How dare that, that pig!"
"C-calm down S-sire, I'm sure we may reason with h-him," Feron, Jarlath's personal servant tried to reason with his king and calm his temper, but found his attempts to be in vain.
"Silence!" Jarlath spat, turning his fury upon Feron. He then threw his hands in the air out of anger, letting the response from Jonathan go flying through the air. "I won't stand for this, I won't!"
"W-won't stand for what S-sire?" Feron stuttered and tremnled violently. He was deathly afraid of his king when Jarlath was in one of his rages.
"Tortall has refused my demands, even after the promise of war!" Jarlath began nervously running his fingers through his greying hair. He wanted that Wild Mage. He wanted her so badly that it hurt. He would have her, there was no denying that. She would make the perfect addition to his court. If he planned to make Galla the highest country of the Mortal Realms, he would need to take more steps of authority. He could not by any means let the king of Tortall push him around.
"What I need, is a way to make him wish he'd listened!" Jarlath began thinking out loud, completely ignoring Feron's presence. He threw himself down in his oak wood chair and pulled it up against his desk so he could better view the papers before him. There had to be an answer, there just had to be. It couldn't be that he'd lost favor with the gods. No, he wouldn't make that mistake like his royal cousin Ozorne did. He would succeed, and there would be no stopping him. If only Tortall knew of Galla's vast navy and built up army.
Suddenly, Jarlath's eyes lit up as a malicious and brilliant thought entered his mind. "The allies!" he breathed, hardly daring to believe that he could have just solved his problem. "Yes, the allies! They'll come to my aid, on this account!"
The old king leaped up from his desk and dashed across the room and to the door. Just as he was about to open it and head out, he turned to face Feron, whom he'd just remembered was still in his presence. "Feron," his voice was tinted with deathly steel. It was times like this that Jarlath ought to be feared more than when he was in one of his obvious rages. It was in these times that his mind was still open to rational thought, thoughts to murder. "Fetch me the Scanran delegates, now! Tell them that I summon them to the throne room at once!"
"Y-yes Sire," Feron said, deeply bowing before dashing out of the king's study and breaking into a run as soon as he reached the hall.
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Jarlath strode from his throne room with a wide grin upon his waxen face, amber eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He chuckled lightly to himself as he walked. He'd done it this time, oh he surely had. This time he would have Jonathan. He'd met with the Scanran delegation that he'd called upon to meet in council with Galla mere weeks ago, and he'd recieved some wonderous news from them. Their king, Maggur, had signed an alliance with Galla. This alliance was no insignificant document to rot in Jarlath's desk, either. No, it was in fact the most important document he'd ever recieved. It ensured that Scanra would go into every war with Galla and help to fight off every foe. It made Scanra as close to being a part of Galla as it was possible to be.
"She'll be mine," Jarlath muttered evily under his breath. Things were working out much better than he'd ever even dared to hope, yet alone expect. It was as if the gods had meant all along for the fair Wild Mage of Tortall to fall into his grasp. He smiled as he thought of all of the possiblities and opportunities she would bring upon her arrival to Galla. Oh how he longed to see her set foot on Gallan soil.
Jarlath was close to skipping in his steps as he walked rapidly back to his study. He had a letter to write, and important one at that. He was eager to claim what should have rightfully been his. The sooner he wrote to Jonathan, the better. It only made sens to send his demands now, for he would rather Veralidaine arrive in Galla in time for the Midwinter festivities, which were mere months away.
As soon as Jarlath stepped into his study, he sat down at his desk, pulling his oak wood chair as close up to the table as it would go. He pulled open the top right drawer and drew out a blank, rolled piece of parchment. He reached for his quill, dipping it in his ink well.
Dear King Jonathan III of Conte:
I regret to inform you that my tolerance ar your refusal of my unnegotiable demands is running dry by the hour. Lady Sarrasri is a Gallan citizen, and in keeping her on Tortallan soil, against her king's will is considered hostaging. This is intolerable as far as I'm concerned. My first reaction to this offence against my counntry and my people would be a declaration of war, but I see it fit to permit you one last chance.
At this time, the conditions have changed. King Maggur of Scanra has just signed a treaty with Galla. Not just any treaty mind you, but one that guarrentees their support in the time of war. I do not think it possible for Tortall to stand alone against the military forces of both Galla and Scanra. I will also remind you, that none of your northern, or even sounthern alliances will be of any use to you. It is against the code of war to coincide with a country who is at war with another while it holds citizens hostage. If they were to aid you, it would be dishonoring the ancient code of war and thus falling out of favor with the gods. I highly doubt if this would sound appealing to them.
I ask for the sake of both Galla and Tortall, and for the sake of peace, that you reconsider your decision of keeping Lady Sarrasri on Tortallan soil. It would be a foolish waste of blood shed to go to war over a mere girl. It is obvious that Tortall would be lost. Do not deny it. Do not dishonor the ancient code. Do not fall out of favor with the gods. You have seen first hand what the consequences were for our royal cousin Ozorne's breaching of the code.
Awaiting You Response,
King Jarlath of Jerkins, Galla
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(A/N: Ok...now we skip away from his Royal Stinkiness and get back to D/N....This scene picks up exactly where the last one did, you know, with Numair deciding to stay in Daine's room for the night......)
As soon as Daine came out from behind the dressing screen in her bed chamber, she found that Numair had already entered and was waiting for her. He had pulled back the quit and sheets of her bed and currently had his lanky form stretched out across it, leaning his back against the wall. Daine noticed that he'd merely removed his shirt and was clad only in his breeches for the night. His boots lay tucked under the bed and his shirt folded neatly in the chair at her bedside.
Daine smiled at him and went to move in next to him. She was clad in a thin, white shift, almost transparent in parts. Almost shyly she pulled back the quilt and sheets on her side of the bed and climbed in. She turned around and ruffled her goose feather pillow a bit, until it was in a comfortable state for her to sleep on. She wrapped the sheets around her bare legs and pulled the down quilt up to just above her breasts.
Shyly, Daine looked over at her lover to find that he already had his eyes locked on her form, staring intently. His lips were parted in a partial smile. He noticed that she was watching him and he blushed. He'd never felt this awkward when he shared a bed with a lover before. He flashed a smile in her direction, which she returned gratefully.It seemed that neither of the two wanted to speak just now. Words weren't needed in a time like this.
Silently, Numair reached for her hand and entwined it with his own. Instinctively, Daine scooted closer to him util she rested within the circle of his arms. Numair lifted his arms up and around her to better accomodate her. He brushed his lips lightly against the side of her neck and said simply, "I love you."
Daine sighed contently at his words, not knowing anything else that would be suitable to do just now. She felt so different now, since her agreement to become engaged to Numair. It was hard to believe that in a short matter of time, depending on their to be decided engagement length, she, Veralidaine Sarrasri would be a married woman. For a good part of her life, she'd taken it as a known fact that she would never marry. All of the villagers of Snowsdale, her own neighbors, had always made it quite clear to her that no respectable man would ever even consider marrying Sarra's bastard. Once again since her arrival in Tortall, Daine had proved the villagers wrong.
"What are you thinking?" Numair voiced audibly, his tone soft and in little more than a whisper.
"That its fair amazing," Daine mused, still stuck in her visions and dreams of married life. As a young girl, she'd always fancied marrying someone,that was, until she'd been old enough to pay more attention to what people said about her. Not long after that point in her life, she'd dreaded the mere idea of it. Now, it seemed so pleasant and welcoming, that it sent chills of pleasure up Daine's spine.
"What's amazing, sweet?" Numair asked curiously, letting his upper body rest against his elbow, all the while still holding Daine in the circle of his arms.
"That we're engaged," Daine supplied, causing him to chuckle merrily at her words. She lightly slapped his shoulder, turning her body in his arms so that her chest wwas pressed against his own and her face facing his. Raising an eye brow, she said, "Pray tell don't laugh at me, Master Mage," she used one of her many nicknames for Numair. She normally used this particular one when she was trying to sound mock vexed with him.
"I'm sorry, Magelet," Numair replied, still chuckling. "How do you feel about it?"
"Different," Daine said simply, unable to supply any single word that she believed to be more fitting. "I feel like I'm flying on warm currents of wind."
Again, Numair found her choice of words amusing. "I know how you feel," he said in agreement. "I've never felt this way before."
"Well then I'm glad I'm not alone," Daine said with a grin, idley playing with his hair, which he'd let fall around his shoulders. He prefered to take it out of its horse tail at night when he slept. Daine thought he looked handsome with it this way.
Daine gasped suddenly when, without warning, he began raining tiny kisses down the side of her neck. He closed his eyes and continued, reaching the neckline of her shift. Pausing only for a brief moment, Numair began kissing all of her exposed skin, leaving her limp and trembling within his grasp. "Mmmmm," was all she found herself able to voice.
Returning the favor, Daine rearranged her position, and kissed his cheek lovingly. She let her lips slide down the side of his face until she found his mouth. She brushed her lips against his, lightly at first, but soon becoming more insistant. She could feel his lips curling into a smile as she performed this task, and felt utter delight when he responded with zeal, kissing her back.
Daine let her body continue reshifting its position, rubbing affectionately against his bare chest. She buried her face in the nape of his neck, smiling when she felt his spare hand entangle intself in her mass of smoky brown curls. They now faced each other once more, eyes transfixed on the other. To an onlooker, it would appear as though the two were bewitched under some sort of spell. They were under no spell; merely free will and love for the other drove them. Daine smiled at her love, and it only broadened when he flashed a grin in return.
"Perhaps we ought to sleep now," Daine suggested after a long while, yawning. She knew very well that they had a difficult task ahead of them tomorrow, and that was announcing their engagement to all of their friends and eventually to the court. How would they react? No one but Daine, Numair, and Neal even knew that thier relationship was no longer platonic. It would surely come as quite a shock when they announced their wishes to wed as soon as possible. "We've a big thing to do tomorrow."
"If you're speaking of the thing I think you are, then I most definately agree," Numair said, letting his eyes dart up to the ceiling thoughtfully. "We've quite a story to tell everyone, Magelet, and I've also got my first classes to teach in months. Its going to over all be a busy day."
Nodding, Daine smiled and turned to her bedside table where her light globe burned and illuminated the room. She put a hand over it, completely covering it, and the light immediately went out, leaving the room in complete darkness. "Good night, love," Numair voiced, yawning.
"G'night," Daine replied, as she shifted her position to a comfortable one for sleeping. It was only then that she let herself drift off to sleep.
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The first rays of light were only just coming over the horizon as Jon began going through the day's mail in his private study. Thayet still slept and he'd promised to dine with her for breakfast, so he found it logical to knock some of this large pile of work away now. Lately, he was very accustomed to awaking at such an hour; at times even earlier. Sleep had become a delicacy for poor Jon.
Yawning, Jon began scanning the papers that were littered all over the surface of his desk with his fingers. For the most part it was the usual reports, even one from Raoul, which was surprising to Jon. Usually, the old knight and commander of the King's Own forgot such reports. Jon found himself chuckling as he read through Raoul's letter. It didn't contain anything of much importance from what Jon could see, but he was grateful all the same for his friend's news, being that he never got any.
After about an hour of such work, Jon was getting extremely tired of it. He stole a glance out of the single window in his study to see that the sun was almost completely up, signifying that his Thayet would soon be up. "I'd best hurry and finish then," Jon said aloud, energized by the hope that he would soon get a decent break from this horrid work load.
It was just as Jon turned back to his desk and piles of paper that he noticed the parchment with the Gallan seal. -Perfect- he thought lamely, -Not another one- Preparing himself for complete boredom and utter annoyance that Jon was sure he would find upon opening the letter from Jarlath, Jon reluctantly broke the seal. Grumbling and making it completely clear that he was in no mood to be doing this, Jon unrolled the piece of parchment to see what was written inside. What he found was a lengthy letter in Jarlath's scrawl. Sighing, Jon went to work reading it. What he read horrified him. "What?" he asked himself, completely alarmed. He let the note fall from his grasp as he slammed his fist hard against his desk. His fist made painful contact with the wood and he recoiled it in pain, idly sucking on it.
Cautiously, hands trembling from anger, Jon once again lifted the note to see if he had read it correctly. After all, it was still early morning, and he hadn't slept much the previous night. He'd made such a mistake before, when he'd thought that Emperor Kaddar of Carthak had declared war against Tortall. Jon groaned in frustration and anger when he soon found that he'd read it correctly the first time around. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. "This can't be happening!" He felt so frustrated just now. He threw his head roughly into his wands and began nervously running his fingers through his hair.
"What will I tell her?" he began musing frantically, wondering if there was any way to break this news to Daine that wouldn't break her heart. What he'd read in the letter, was that she would indeed have to go back. There was no way that Tortall could stand a war anytime soon. The recent Immortals War had taken quite a toll on Tortall, meaning they would have to remain peaceful for quite a while to come. Not only that, but Tortall wouldn't be going up against only Galla. According to Jarlath, the Scanran king had signed a treaty with Galla signifying that they would aid Galla in its war with Tortall should there be one. "What in the name of the great gods am I going to do without my Wild Mage!" Jon yelled in utter defiance.
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Daine awoke as the sun began pouring into her room through her open bed chamber window. She could feel the warm rays of sun falling upon her face, and wondered how there could still be so much warmth with Midwinter so close to coming. Yawning, Daine opened her eyes and sat up, almost jumping when she noticed the figure that lay sleeping next to her. She'd completely forgotten that Numair had stayed with her the previous night, and it wasn't as thought she were accustomed to sharing her bed. Smiling, Daine leaned back to rest her head against the wall that her bed was up against. She reached under the quilt and sheets and took hold of her lover's overly large hand.
Remembering suddenly that Numair had mentioned having to teach classes before the noon bell, Daine decided it best to wake him now so that he would have time to dress and eat. "Wake up, Numair," Daine prompted, lightly shaking him. She watched with amusement as his face wrinkled in distaste. He groaned at her antics and turned over onto his side, turning his back to her. Sighing, Daine said, "You'll be late for the day's classes, Numair, if you plan to eat and dress."
Numair's eyes snapped open immediately at her most recent words, making her laugh. He quickly turned his head counter clock wise to look out the window and see where the sun was in the sky. By looking, he knew it was still rather early to be up, but thanked his love all the same. He wouldn't have woken up if she hadn't helped him along. "What time are your classes?" Daine asked once he looked as thought he had properly woken up and had rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
"I'd say I have a good hour and a half before I have to go," Numair supplied, stretching out his limbs and letting his back crack. "If you'd like, I'll throw on my shirt and go down to the Mess Hall and grab some breakfast for the two of us and bring it back here to eat. I should have enough time after eating to run over to my rooms and change into clean clothes."
"I'd like that," Daine said with a smile, leaning closer to him and kissing the tip of his nose. He chuckled and snaked an arm around her shoulders, and up to rest on the back of her head in her hair. He brushed his lips with hers swiftly, but then pulled away within the blink of an eye. When she looked into his face after he pulled away, she found that his features held something like a mock smirk.
"I'll just be a minute, Magelet," he voiced as he rose from the bed, throwing his legs over the side. He walked over to the chair that he'd thrown his shirt over the previous night, picking up his neatly folded shirt. He hastily unfolded it and pulled it on, hurriedly buttoning it up to the top. To save time, he left the top few buttons open. He walked over to Daine's mirror that she had hung by a nail on the wall that rested just above her water basin. He splashed some of the cool water onto his face and began straightening his hair as best he could. He tied his hair back ungracefully in a horse tail just before turning back to Daine. He quickly kissed her on the cheek to acknowledge his leaving and strode out the bed chamber door. It only took a few seconds for Daine to hear the sound of her room door opening and then clicking shut.
"While he's out, I may as well rest some more," Daine mused as she let herself fall back onto her pillow. She pulled her blankets up around her and laid on her back, legs straight. She smiled at the thought of his kindness in going to retrieve breakfast for the two of them. -I'm glad I'm marrying him- she thought dreamily, -He's so sweet-
Just as Daine was about to close her eyes for a quick rest, she heard a soft, yet audible rapping on her door. She could hear Kit trilling from the main chamber of her room where the young dragonet had slept. The previous night, Daine had banished Kit to the couch in the main chamber of her room so that she and Numair could have their privacy, and also because Numair took up a great deal of the bed, leaving no room for the dragonet. Sighing, Daine threw back the covers and swung her leg over the side of the bed. She pulled herself to her feet and went to her bed chamber door. "Just a moment!" she called out to whoever was knocking at her door as she reached for her cotton robe that hung on a nail beside her bed chamber door. She hastily threw it on and exited her bed chamber and went to the door of her main chamber.
Daine quickly turned the brass door knob and opened the door to reveal a page, much younger than Neal, standing before her. He was rather short for his age and had a mass of coppery curls on his head. "Can I help you?" Daine voiced to the young boy, making him jump.
"Yes, Ma'am," he said, voice shaking slightly, "I've a message for Veralidaine Sarrasri from the king."
"Well, then you're speaking to the right person," Daine said, wondering what Jonathan could want from her so early in the day. The fact that the message was from the king did explain the young page's nervous manner. Jonathan rarely used the first year pages to deliver his messages, so most of them weren't used to such direct contact from His Majesty. Daine knew from personal experience that Jonathan could be rather intimidating upon first meeting him. "What does His Majesty ask of me?" Daine asked, hoping that it wasn't anything to do with a sick animal to be healed. No matter how many injured animals she'd seen, she could never get used to the sight of such a thing. She dreaded seeing any creature in pain, as did most sane people.
"His Majesty requests your company in his private study, Lady Sarrasri," The page said politely, delivering the king's message.
"All right," Daine replied, trying to hide the disappointment from her voice. She hoped she could finish her business with Jon in a hurry so that she would have time to share breakfast with Numair. -My new fiancee- she thought happily. "Tell His Majesty that I'll meet him there as soon as I can dress."
The page bowed and turned on his heel to leave, dashing down the palace halls. Daine didn't wait to watch him go, she quickly slammed the door shut and dashed back to her bed chamber to change. "Leave it to Jon to summon me when I'm looking forward to doing something else," Daine grumbled as she slipped out of her robe and shift and to her closet to get some clean clothes. She pulled on a pair of plain brown breeches and cream colored shirt. Also, deciding that the halls of the palace had been rather cold lately, she threw on her gray tunic and went over to her water basin to wash her face. She gazed at her appearance in the mirror, and sighed when she saw the mess her hair was in. She attempted to run a comb through it, but found this to be a more difficult task than it sounded. "I don't have time for this!" Daine muttered in her frustration with her gods cursed hair.
Just as Daine uttered these words of frustration, she could hear Kit come up behind her. The dragonet let out a single chirp and then a light trilling and Daine could feel her curls falling neatly into place. "Thank you, Kit!" Daine exclaimed, reaching a hand down to pat the dragonet on the head.
Daine quickly ran to her bedside table and pulled a spare piece of parchment from the drawer. She hastily scrawled a quick note to Numair, explaining her absence in case he were to return before she got back from going to see Jon. Without any further delays, Daine quickly strode out of her room and into the hall. From there she just about ran all the way to Jon's private study, breathing heavily by the time she got there. She lightly rapped on the door, awaiting a response from within. "Come in!" Came Jon's voice from the other side of the door. Daine didn't hesitate to turn the brass knob and let herself in.
Once inside, she found Jon sitting at his desk in the corner, facing the window. She hadn't suspected to find him anywhere else. He turned to face her, and odd expression on his face. His crystal clear blue eyes did not twinkle with delight as they usually did. His manner seemed rather grim. -The war must be getting to him- Daine thought, never considering that the real reason for his mannerism was actually herself. "You wanted to see me?" Daine asked hesitantly, hoping not to disturb him further.
"Yes, Daine, please sit," Jon said grimly, motioning with his hand to a chair across from his own. "Would you like a pastry?" Jon asked politely, though it was obvious his heart wasn't in it. He pointed to a tray that sat on a small table between them.
"No thank you, Your Majesty," Daine politely refused the king's offer, "I already promised Numair I'd eat breakfast with him as soon as I get back from seeing you."
"Ah, well then I shall try not to make this any longer than necessary. Though I must inform you right now, Daine, that it is a very serious matter with which I must discuss with you," Jon's tone hadn't changed in the slightest, making Daine wonder what could truly be bothering him.
"What is it you wish to tell me, Highness?" Daine asked, starting to get a bit worried herself.
"You know by now to call me Jonathan," Jon corrected her idly as his eyes turned thoughtful. "To tell you the truth I don't know how to tell you this, but-" Jon stopped suddenly. He couldn't do it, he just couldn't. How could he possibly tell her that after all she'd done for himself and his country, that he must force her to leave and return to a place she had never wanted to call home? It seemed so cruel and heartless, but did he really have much of a choice? -I have to do it- Jon told himself firmly.
"But what?" Daine asked out of both curiosity and worry. She became even more nervous when the king began shaking his head, emitting a light chuckle. It was far from a laugh of happiness, though.
"Here," Jonathan said lamely, deciding that since he could never tell her himself, he would instead have her read the letter for herself. Perhaps then she would better understand, and maybe not hate him for it.
Daine watched as Jon reached across the distance that separated them, a piece of parchment in hand. Daine reached out a shaky hand and took it from his offering hand. She unfolded it and began to read what it said. She gasped suddenly, once she realized what it said, what it meant. She felt a mix of shock, panic and fear. "W-what is this, some kind of j-joke?" Daine stuttered finally, clinging tightly to the letter.
"I'm afraid not, Daine," Jon said, his words grim and filled with regret. He felt so guilty when he looked into the fear stricken blue gray eyes that lay before him.
"What does this mean?" Daine asked hesitantly, not at all wanting to know the answer, but knowing that she had to. A mass of horrible and terrifying thoughts rampaged through her mind, making her feel ill to say the very least.
Jon hesitated for a moment, thinking carefully of how to best word it. "Daine, it would be impossible for Tortall to risk a war against two powerful countries and stand alone, especially right now," Jon said and hating himself after every word. He saw the deep look of hurt and worry in the young woman's eyes and he couldn't even begin to imagine what she must be feeling right now. Fear? Disbelief? It was all the same at this point.
There was a brief moment's silence in which neither king nor subject spoke. Daine had her eyes glued firmly to the floor, head in her hands. Was she crying? Jon didn't know. He didn't want to know. It would only make him feel more guilt, and that was something he didn't need right now. -We can't risk war- was all he kept telling himself.
"There isn't anything you can do?" Daine questioned Jon as she lifted her head up from her hands. Her eyes were red and her face tear stained. Her voice was filled with a hope and a trust in Jon, and it hurt him that he couldn't be a big enough person to help her.
"I'm sorry Daine, but there isn't," Jon said trying his best not to make it sound as horrible for her as he knew it surely would be. "I'll be writing back to King Jarlath around midday today to see how you are to be transported."
Tears began leaking freely from the Wild Mage's eyes. She'd come here with the intent of discussing whatever Jon wished to, and then announcing to him her engagement to Numair. She had so looked forward to telling all of her friends everything she'd been hiding. Now, it would do her no good. Why tell them anything now? All it would do was make them feel even more remorseful for the fact that they could do nothing. "Jon, are you positive you can do nothing, nothing at all?" Daine made one last final plee.
Jon's eyes snapped open in what appeared to be irritation. When he was at a loss as he was now, or grieving over something, his reaction tended to be not so much sadness, but anger and rage. He had a short temper in such times as these. "No, damn it!" he snapped angrily, unable to stop himself, "You have to go!"
Daine's light crying turned to sobbing. Once again she threw her head in her hands, feeling utterly helpless. All of this had come so fast. All of her fears, all of her haunting nightmares were becoming a horrifying reality and somehow this man thought she should be able to handle it. He'd snapped at her, and in her opinion was being cruel to her, so what more was she to think? -I'm losing my home, my friends, everything I hold dear- she thought sadly, between her tears and sobs.
-Numair-, Daine thought suddenly. She hadn't thought of what she thought now upon first hearing the news. Now, her grief and worry had doubled, no tripled. Her wedding, she'd finally agreed to wed, and now that was jeopardized. -How will I tell him all of this?- she thought frantically, becoming more stressed by the minute. She wished Alanna were at the palace now, so that she could seek advice from the older woman.
"I've things I need to attend to," Daine choked out these words between sobs. She knew she was being more than rude to her king, but she didn't care. Suddenly, she didn't feel so much loyalty to him as she had before this meeting. Her feelings seemed almost treasonous, but again, she couldn't care less.
"You're dismissed," Jon muttered, voice still rather cold. He had no idea where this sudden cruelty had come from, and he didn't like it at all. It wasn't him, yet it always seemed to come. It was this sort of thing that had caused him to lose Alanna all those years ago in the desert with the Bazhir. He felt the need to apologize to Daine, but instead he just waved his hand as a signal for her to leave his presence.
Daine didn't hesitate to rise from where she sat and just about run to the door. She couldn't handle sitting in that room for another second. The tension had been too much for her in this terrifying moment in her life. She grasped the brass door knob, turning it roughly and leaving water marks on it from the tears that had fallen onto her hands. She ran all the way down the halls until she reached her room. -not my room for long- she thought, mind clouded with stress and worry. As she ran, she frantically wiped her hands on her sleeves. She didn't want Numair to see that she'd been crying. Perhaps she wouldn't tell him right away when she got back. Perhaps she would have at least one more time with him that was carefree. She didn't want him to have the burden of going to teach his classes with her welfare on his mind. -Gods I can't lose him-
Hesitant to enter, Daine stood fearfully outside her room door. -I can't do it- she kept thinking to herself. In truth, she wanted the comfort her chambers would bring her, and she wanted to be in Numair's arms. If anything would bring her any reassurance just now, that would be it. Sighing, thinking only of what she would have to do eventually if not now, Daine turned the brass door knob that led to her room and opened the door. She stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. She hoped she could hold a straight face and perhaps a forced smile. She didn't by any means want to worry him.
Once inside, she found Numair awaiting her, features alight with joy at the mere sight of her. This alone made Daine's heart twist painfully. While she had been gone, Numair had brought back two plates filled with breakfast from the Mess Hall for them to share. He had already set them out on her small table, where he sat waiting for her.
Upon seeing her, he stood and went to greet her. He entangled his arm with hers, briefly leaning down to swiftly kiss her lips. "Ah, my beautiful fiancee returns," Numair said, voice gentle yet teasing. His dark eyes were twinkling as he gazed at her. He didn't know it, but his words stung her like a gaping wound. It once again showed her a glimpse of what she would so sorely miss. She still couldn't fully absorb that she was leaving, never to return. She couldn't believe that she wasn't marrying Numair. -Don't give up hope- she told herself. "What did Jon want that was so urgent?" Numair asked, not knowing how much that question pained Daine.
Her breath caught painfully in her throat, causing her to gasp unintentionally. Numair's eyes snapped immediately to hers, a slight look of worry hidden behind them. He, of course, hadn't missed her strange manner, and was determined to find what was going on. "N-nothing, Numair," Daine answered lamely, frantically searching her mind for an excuse. She wasn't ready to tell him, and she hoped he wouldn't press the subject. "He was just checking with me to see if I planned to check the stables today."
Numair raised an accusing eye brow, making it obvious that he didn't by any means buy her excuse. "Shall we eat?" Daine asked, pulling uncomfortably out of his grip. She felt so wrong leading him on like that. She'd only kept this secret from him for a few minutes and yet it felt as though she'd been at it for years at a time.
Daine had intentionally changed the subject to that of the food, hoping to divert him. It didn't work as well as she'd hoped however, for his reply came in a tone that further revealed his lack of belief in her explanation. "Of course," he said, moving to walk before her, and charmingly pulling out her chair for her. She forced a smile at him, for his sake, hoping that it would make things more believable. If he noticed her fake sense of happiness, he didn't show anymore signs of it. Daine still didn't underestimate him for a moment.
Numair had brought back a bowl filled with porridge for each of them, along with a large plate filled with eggs and sausages. As Numair went to take his seat across from Daine, he couldn't help but notice that she had made no move to touch her food. She was acting different just now, as if something big was on her mind. Though he didn't know it, his suspicions were very much correct and he could never imagine just how badly it was hurting her. "Aren't you hungry? You haven't touched your food at all," Numair asked after the moments of silence went on for some time. He'd already started to devour his eggs, but she'd left her plate untouched. Her eyes were transfixed on him, her face bearing an odd expression. As soon as he paid any notice of her, she flinched and looked away quickly. That had done it for him. He would beat around the bush no longer. "Daine, are you sure you're all right? You're acting strange."
"I'm fine, Numair!" Daine said quickly, still refusing to meet his gaze. Numair stood up and went to her side of the table, taking her hands in his.
"Are you sure, sweet?" he asked again, eyes filled with loving worry for her. This was a man who genuinely cared for her.
"Yes," Daine replied shakily, completely unsure of herself. Deep down, she knew she was far from all right, but she couldn't bear to tell him that now. Seeking some sort of assurance and a way to distract Numair from her current state, Daine stood on the tips of her toes and tilted her head to kiss him. He didn't seem to mind her distraction, for he met her half way, catching on to her intentions. He pulled her tightly in his arms, and drew her to his chest. She seemed to melt into him. As their kiss went on, Numair could sense some sort of foreign longing in her, a hunger. He could tell for sure now that something was definitely wrong. In an attempt to comfort her, he deepened the kiss, snaking his arms lovingly around her waste. He felt Daine respond by holding tight to his neck, burying her fingers in his hair.
Suddenly, without warning, Daine jerked away, leaving Numair breathless. She too fought for breath, but her features still clearly showed the worry she felt. "What's wrong?" Numair asked, gasping as he contained himself from the passionate kiss they'd just shared.
Daine couldn't hold back her tears any longer. They burst free in an instant, making her feel as if a heavy burden was slowly being released. She suddenly sought the reassurance of his arms around her. She snuggled in tighter to his chest, burying her face in him. Her crying didn't cease, even slightly. Numair, shocked by her sudden outburst, held her close, rocking her back and forth in his arms. He began murmuring softly into her hair, hoping he wasn't the cause of her distress. "Sweet, what's wrong?" he asked softly, letting his voice hold reassurance. For the first time since Daine had received the news from Jon, she felt safe. She felt as if nothing could ever take her away as she cuddled close to her love and felt his arms grasp tightly around her.
"Numair-" She sobbed now, unable to choke out more than one word for her tears had become more violent. He pulled her even closer, if possible, lightly stroking her cheek.
"Shhhh," he soothed, "I'm here for you. Tell me what's wrong, Daine."
"I-I'm leaving you!" she finally choked out, gasping when she had finished. Her crying became more insistent, but Numair misunderstood her words.
"Daine, this isn't the first time Jon's sent you on a mission for the Crown and I haven't gone," Numair continued to soothe her, not knowing how wrong he was on the way he had taken her words. "You'll be back soon and I'll be here waiting."
"No, I won't be back!" she sobbed, and suddenly he froze, a sudden fear overtaking him.
"W-what does that mean?" he stuttered, hoping he'd heard her wrong. The thought of her leaving and not coming back terrified him.
Daine lifted her face from his chest and looked him directly in the eye. She saw a sudden fear in his eyes, such a fear she had never seen in him before. She felt that she must settle down, if not for herself then for him. She had to stay calm, to make things easier for Numair. Taking a deep breath, Daine forced back her tears, trying her best to hold a steady face."Numair-"
"Daine," Numair interrupted quickly, voice hushed and worried, "Are you trying to tell me you want this to be over?"
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A/N: Hehehe....cliffy, cliffy, cliffy! Please let me apologize again for taking so long to update, but, as you can see this is a considerably long chapter.....please review if you want this cliffy taken care of properly and also tell me what you'd like to see! Who knows.....I just might listen! ^_^
