Thank you, all who reviewed. You HAVE heard me say that you are the ones that keep my glued to my computer chair, racking my brains for ideas, instead of industriously studying for exams, neh?
Oceanspike – Haha. I'm glad you like it. :) My intention for this story was humour and simplicity. And btw, you're not stupid – 'lolz' is simply my way of saying –lol- laugh out loud. That I'm sure you understand, right?
Miamouse – I'm sorry Alanna's character disappointed you so. But you have to remember – she is not the same Alanna in Song of the Lioness, when she entered the palace at the age of ten. As for age – age is but a number; it has no meaning. [But, to keep records straight, Alanna's first kiss from Jon occurred at the Drell Valley, when she was sixteen. ] And George – my highest compliment for him is that I can tolerate him. :( So no, he won't be appearing in this short ficlet. (However, I DO have a fic with George in it – 'Twist of Fate'. It will be my honour if you visit it.) But I hope you still enjoy this chapter, neh? Thank you for all your support.
nala – My thanks for pointing out the confusion. I'll try to state things in clearer terms in the future, eh? I only tried to portray one's thought in writing – and as humans, we do tend to think in tangents, don't you think? Haha. Too be sure, Alanna certainly does NOT exist in a vacuum. Lolz. I'll try to add in more detail, hm? Thanks for your compliments.
S – Haha. I'm glad you liked that little scene. I thought it would leave a deep impression for Alanna and Jon's first meeting. Lolz. Thank you for commenting!
Lady Leah of Chaos – Well aren't we the evil one? :P You're telling me you don't feel 'Johnny's' pain? Haha. Thanks for dropping by. :D Hope you enjoy this chapter!
Aznchicki – You are saying you don't believe that Thom's hot? LOLZ. I had always thought him handsome and distinguished. Haha. Of course, Jon looks better, neh?
ThessalyD – OMG! That's an awesome idea! Now why didn't I think of that? Haha. To be sure, one does not normally associate the characters from PotS with the convent – but you are indeed right that it would be unique and creative. I should give that some thought, hm?
e – I'm glad you thought it was funny, as this was my intent. Hopefully you found this one so too? :)
Mustang Girl – Thank you for your compliments. I present you… chapter three!
Alannawanabe – A fellow fluff fan? Lolz. And finally, someone agrees with me that Thom may be attractive! Haha. After all, great minds think alike, hm? Lolz. Thank you for your support.
Kore Yan - Eyes Kore Yan warily Be careful now, don't choke! I would hate for my story to do that do someone. Perhaps I should post up a warning in my opening chapter 'read at your own risk. Symptoms – wheezing, doubling over, derriere separation'. Haha. Thanks.
Rubber Duck – Lolz. The first chapter was purely experimental. Hopefully this story will get better as I improve at writing first person, neh? Thanks for your support. As for the DD link – I visit it often, always silent and lurking.
A/N: Again, I must enforce the fact that this is an experimental ficlet, with no real plot. It will be short – and in accordance with the chapter titles, I think you know how many chapters I have left. As much as I adore your comments, please, please do not tell me 'to expand upon the plot' – I think I have given adequate warning that the plot is not this story's strength. Nevertheless, I hope you will enjoy the writing and humour itself. :)
I present… chapter three.
It's said that you can't escape your fears.
No hell you can't.
At least, knowing my luck, I sure can't. With the kind of luck – or un-luck – I have, I'll probably run right smack into my fears instead of in the opposite direction. See what I mean when I say my life absolutely sucks?
When I say that, it just does not – CAN not – get any worse.
I stare at the dress on my bed that nurse brought in. This brilliant concoction of deep violet silk and wonderful embroidery. It IS pretty, if I do say so myself. It almost – almost – reconciles me to the 'dancing part-ay' I've been forced to attend. ALMOST. Nothing in the world can drag me to willingly attend that – ball.
Argh. And it's entirely his fault that I have to attend. The Crown Prince of Tortall's fault. We're celebrating his 20th birthday. Geez, the way the court makes it sound, we might as well all say 'Yay! Let's celebrate Jonathan Day!' Ha!
To be sure, I haven't seen him ['seen' as in, I haven't made a fool of myself] since that – unfortunate meeting almost three weeks ago, except in the corridors and sometimes at dinner. More than once – and twice – I've caught him staring oddly at me, and I just KNOW he's planning something evil up his sleeve. During those times, I take exceptional care that he does not find a chance to 'accidentally' fall into me.
Puh-lease. Accidentally. That was so a plot to embarrass the life out of me.
And it worked. And WHY do HIS plots work oh-so-perfectly for him? Why can't MINE work for a change? Ohhh… life is so unfair.
Anyways, as an 'intimately installed' girl in court (Intimately installed. Yeah right. Three weeks later, and I am still living in the Prince's study!), I've been practically ordered to attend. Gah.
I hate – absolutely despise – court life.
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Damn curls! This ONE curl will not stay in place. But oh, it will. I shall personally make it stay if I have to. I will NOT go to His Highness's birthday ball looking nothing less than perfection. I mean, if I HAVE to go, I might as well look good. And plus, knowing my luck, the worst thing that can possibly go wrong will. And believe me, the worst thing can get preeetty darn bad.
I'll need more than looks to bear up against that. [Say – oh, help from a certain trusted brother?]
Sitting there in my towel, and dripping wet from my luxurious hot bath, I dab lotion over my body – hey, one's skin must match the hair, non? – And ingeniously devise a plan B.
A successful plan B, for a change.
So here's my new plan. Latch onto Thom like a leech. Refuse to dance with anyone, much less him. (My expertise at giving lame excuses to reject prospective dance partners is quite overwhelming.) Leave as early as possible, and drag Thom along with me. If anyone asks, Thom's just about to show me around the gardens.
In the meanwhile, I plan to do all in my powers to embarrass that – Prince. Ohh… He'll be sorry he ever ran into me that day. I'll make sure of that.
Brilliant? I thought so.
In the spur of the moment, I get up to do a little victory dance. Ha! The game's in the bag for me. Oh, I'm going to have the time of my life tonight…. HE is SO going to get it.
So, I'm waltzing around the study, dancing – dancing? Stumbling, more like – with my bottle of lotion in one hand, and nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped around my body.
Now doesn't that just spell disaster?!
Moments later, I whirl straight INTO the edge of His Highness's desk. Hard. Literally, I just rammed right into the sharp corner of the desk. What the heck does he think he's doing, anyways, keeping a dangerous thing like that right in the middle of the room?
I yelp in pain, and the betraying bottle of a lotion flies out of my slippery, oil-covered fingers. I close my eyes, cringing as I wait for the unavoidable sound of shattering glass.
It never came.
Hmm. Maybe my luck is going to hold out, after all. My eyes open.
Oh freaking hell.
No. This cannot be happening to me.
Who else is standing at the door, besides Jonathan, Crown Prince of Tortall? In his hands, he holds out my bottle of lotion. See what I mean by one hell of a traitor lotion? How could it do this to me? Letting him see me in this humiliation.
The sting of all insults.
"You dropped your – oh. Err… you…" He drops his oh-so-arrogant tone, as he looks me over, his face burning crimson.
"You – how…Wha… In – Jon…ack - " I sputter incoherently, clutching the slipping towel to my all too wet (and not to mention NAKED!!) body.
Seeing my helpless fury, he immediately sets the bottle on the floor, and before I can react, the door has closed, with HIM on the other side.
"ARRGGHHHH!!" I scream, recovering my senses and sprinting towards the door. "JONATHAN!!!!! GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!!!"
The door doesn't budge. I pound furiously on it, but it's still sealed tight. I can't believe it. He's holding the door shut from the OUTSIDE. I'm freaking locked into my own room!!
"JONATHAN!!!! Open the door right NOW!!"
I can hear him chuckle. ARGH! "No way. I saw that killer gleam in your eyes, Lady Alanna." His voice floats under the door, teasing and tantalizing at the same time.
GAHHHHH!!!!
In my anger, I kick at the door with my foot – my little toe connecting solidly with the wooden door. I stumble backwards. "Yeeowch!"
"What is the matter? Is everything all right, Alanna?" The door is flung open, and I meet his concerned gaze mere inches away. (My mind registered vaguely that he called me 'Alanna'.)
My breath catches. All right – the allergen is back.
"Don't you knock?!" I choke out faintly, gesturing my arms wildly in an attempt at intimidation. (It was a complete failure.)
"I did knock. You were just too wrapped up to hear me." He grabs both of my hands, and brings them to his chest. Whether it was to stop me from clobbering him, or, well –
I don't know.
I thought I didn't believe in love at first sight. I didn't believe I could find anyone to suit me at court. I didn't believe the Prince of Tortall could be so – like this.
But now, I'm not sure what I believe anymore.
His eyes meet mine, searchingly. Indigo blue? Once more, I…am…drowning. I've always been afraid of sinking, ever since I fell through the ice at the Trebond pond so long ago. But this – this was different.
I can sense the heat rising into my cheeks, can feel – he probably could, too – my body trembling from head to toe. I can feel the towel slipping from my quivering grasp….
Vainly, I grasp at it, but his hands beat me to it, clasping it securely to my shoulders. The movement brings him closer – MUCH too close for comfort. I watch his head tilt towards me – he is smiling. I clutch tightly onto his tunic.
Say no – say no. No, this is a mistake… Say it…
Jonathan, this is a mistake…
I made a mistake…
I made…
With a swift uplift of my chin, our lips meet. My neck snaps backwards with the force of the kiss, but my body leans involuntarily towards him. I can feel my eyes widen, and I cling onto him for support – why, I haven't the faintest clue. Surprise? Disbelief?
Surely not – love?
My Prince – MY?! Did I just call him MY Prince?… TORTALL'S Prince breaks off the kiss.
Tenderly and oh, ever so softly, he brushes that stubborn strand of hair away from my face. My eyelids flutter blissfully to a half-close, shutting out everything but that pair of totally gorgeous eyes.
"Jonathan – what colour are your eyes?" I manage to croak out. (For the love of Gods, I sound like a hag)…
But I just had to know…
"My eyes?" He looks surprised, and answers slowly. "They're blue."
"Blue? The sky is blue, ink is blue… your eyes are… something else…" (He doesn't think I'm that stupid, does he?)
He pauses for a moment. "Sapphire."
Ah. Sapphire blue.
Sapphire.
"I'll see you at the ball tonight."
In the tiny second it took for me to force my eyes open – I almost had to pry them apart with my fingers, he had gone.
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Finally! Everything in smooth and running order. The time is almost here. You know. What's truly miraculous? Nothing out of plan has happened yet. In fact – everything, and I mean, EVERY single bloody thing, has gone according to my wishes – including that one, single piece of uncooperative hair.
Supposing – no, I can't – but maybe, is it… is it because of him – of Jon? Urgh – that's totally ludicrous. How could MY plans be affected by our – well, by what happened this afternoon? It was a mistake. A mistake.
But…
I rustle into my ball gown, enjoying the cool sensation of silk against skin as it settles around my waist. Nurse – somehow, she doesn't seem nearly as offending as she did on the way here – gently laces up my bodice, turning me towards the mirror when she had finished.
THE Lady Alanna of Trebond stares back at me. Wow. Just – wow. Nothing can be perfect, but I had so closely achieved my aim it was scary. (By perfect, of course I'm referring to 'different from my normal appearance' and 'not hideous' – not the 'drop-dead gorgeous' kind.) Nurse begins to apply some cosmetics to my face, working around my dumbfounded gaze into the mirror.
My dress – bless whoever fashioned it – left shoulders and gathered at the waist, bringing out curves I never thought I had. Even now, I'm thinking it must be a trick of the light. (If it is, it wouldn't be the first time it tried to trick me.) The long, layered, amethyst skirt pooled gently at my feet, each layer ending in a slightly different position, giving the dress personality and life. The hemline was embroidered with such intricacy that I positively shudder to think of how long the dressmaker must have spent on it.
I wonder… what will Prince Jonathan think of this dress on me?
Nurse adds the finishing touch of lip rouge, and steps away from me, smiling – leaving my reflection alone in the mirror. "You look beautiful, Lady."
I remember father's lecture the day before I left Trebond. I remember raging about the injustice of being sent to court even though I was hideously unfeminine. I remember that he told me:
"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder."
Will Jonathan find me beautiful tonight? Will he?
A/N: Hmm. I actually finished the next chapter before I wrote this one – and I may have rushed this one a bit in anticipation for the ultimate climax. Lolz. Let's say – another 15 comments for the next chapter? :)