Title: aqua vitae

Summary: Daine is a wild-mage, a half-god living in the human realm. Everyone thought she was one of a kind, until Thom of Pirate's Swoop finds a girl one winter, something stranger even than Daine.

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two

Myles of Olau was old, but he did not mind. He had lived a long and full life; he had married a beautiful woman, and had a family of the likes he had never dreamed would be his.

"What are you thinking?" Alanna asked quietly.

"The past," Myles murmured, smiling at his daughter. "That I was there for the beginning of all of this," he waved a feeble hand in the air; a gesture that once would have been grand and passionate.

"You'll be here for a lot more of it too," Alanna said firmly.

He smiled at her. "My dear, you of all people know better than that."

Her hand, when she took hold of his, was callused and worn, the skin showing signs of aging and the abuse it had born over the years. He traced a sunspot with his thumb, and smiled up at her.

"I am happy, Alanna," he said gently. "I have more than I dreamed of, and I have you to thank for that."

The Lioness was not famed for emotional outbursts, other than the fire of her quick temper. Myles was touched when he saw her eyes were thick with tears. "Come, come, dear," he said, patting her cheek softly, "don't turn weepy now."

She smiled at him and lifted his hand to her lips, kissing his fingers gently.

"I don't want to lose you," she said, holding his fingers against her cheek. "You've been more of a Da to me than… well." She chuckled wearily and placed his hand on the bed again. "Thom is on his way, Da, I know he'll want to talk to you."

"Good," Myles said. "He can tell me of the City of the Gods, and how much it's changed in the years since I've been there."

"Is there anything I can get you meanwhile?"

Myles of Olau was old and dying, but he was not dead yet. He looked at the woman he called his daughter, eyes innocent. "How about a drink for a dying man?"

Alanna raised her eyebrows at him in a way that reminded him of his nurse many, many years ago. "You want to die quicker?" she asked dryly.

"No," he said innocently, "just relaxed and happy."

"I'll get you some juice," she said instead.

She returned to his chambers shortly and placed a small cup beside his bed. "Don't expect me to give in every time you ask," she told him.

The alcohol burned as he swallowed it, and he welcomed its warmth like an old friend as it chased the cold fingers of age and death a little further away for a small period of time. Myles of Olau was old and dying, but he wasn't ready to go just yet.

---

The air was cold already, the breeze bringing the scent of snow to Alanna's nose. If it were not for Myles lying in his chambers, Alanna would have said her farewells and left Corus at the first hint of frost and headed for a warmer climate. However, her Da was not well and she was not prepared to leave just yet.

Rather than dwell on dark thoughts, she turned her attention to the weapon in her hands and the young woman in front of her bearing a similar weapon.

"What is on your mind, Lioness?" Princess Shinkokami asked, flicking the practice glaive toward Alanna with ease.

"Time, and how it goes," Alanna said grimly, blocking the parry and thrusting with the base of her weapon.

Shinkokami laughed with understanding, nodding her head so that her dark hair bounced emphatically. "Oh yes, I understand how it passes so quickly. Just yesterday I found a grey hair hiding on my head."

Alanna pulled a face, thinking of her own hair already mostly grey. She parried another thrust and danced out of Shinkokami's reach. "Yes, Princess, I can see you getting older every day."

Shinkokami smiled again – something Alanna was pleased to see the young woman did frequently in recent years – and tapped Alanna's arm with her glaive. "I can see age has not dulled your wit nor your tongue."

Alanna grinned and struck at the Princess with her weapon. "It hasn't dulled my skill either, though it has made my muscles complain louder."

"Roald mentioned you've sent word for Thom to return."

Alanna nodded, hot with exercise despite the cold air. "He hates travelling in the cold, but I imagine he'll be arriving any day."

"How is Sir Myles?" Shinkokami asked.

Alanna smiled. "Still nagging like an old woman for his drink," she said, "but he likes us to think he is better than he is."

"He is old," Shinkokami said. "Older than many, and there is not much to be done against age."

"No," Alanna agreed, "not much at all. Sometimes you don't realise how much time has passed until you actually think about it. I still remember my lessons with him and the other pages and it doesn't feel long ago, yet it was forty years ago."

Shinkokami grinned mischievously. "Now I do not feel quiet so old," she said.

Alanna spun and thrust with her glaive, knocking the Princess' weapon out of her hands. "Now I don't feel quite so old either!"

---

Alanna was eating with Daine, Numair and Nealan of Queenscove in the dining hall used by the Kings' Own. George was sitting with Myles under the pretext of 'discussing business' with him, but Alanna knew that her husband held a deep fondness and respect for her adoptive father, and that with George there she didn't have to worry about Myles.

Deliberately pushing darker thoughts away once again, Alanna turned her attention to the conversation around her table.

"And then," Numair was saying, "the little rat had the gall to tell me that his blood was bluer than mine if you please, and therefore I should respect what he had to say, him being all of ten years old! The pages do not have the respect for their elders the way they once did – even the conservatives with their emphasis on old ways are drifting from the code."

"It's not so much drifting from the code of chivalry as trying to undermine the progression," Alanna disagreed after swallowing a mouthful of deer. "Particularly," she continued, "the families with long histories of using servants to further their own gain. Jonathan's new laws are nettling those who are in danger of losing their income."

Nealan of Queenscove scowled darkly. "So because they can eat less pork at Midwinter festivals, they begrudge their servants being better treated."

"It's been their way of life for a long time, Queenscove," Alanna pointed out.

"My family has been around for a long time, and we have no objections to the new laws."

Alanna ground her teeth in irritation – even years after he finished his duties as his squire with her, Nealan still managed to rile her with his sarcasm. "Your family hasn't-"

"Daine, what is it?" Numair interrupted, his voice full of concern.

Alanna turned her attention from her former squire and looked at the wild-mage. The woman's face was pulled tight with concentration.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "There's something… I'm not sure… something's coming."

"Immortal?" Numair asked quietly.

Alanna felt her body tense, wishing she wore her sword to the dining hall.

"I… I think so. I don't know what it is, Numair, but it doesn't feel dark like a Stormwing or a Hurrok."

"I'd have thought by now we'd have a fairly good grip on all the immortals still in the realm," Nealan said mildly.

Alanna flashed him a glare. "Should we alert the Palace Guard?"

Daine smiled oddly. "I think it's already inside the Palace. I'm going to go have a look."

"I'll go too," Numair said immediately, his sentiment echoed by both Alanna and Nealan.

As she followed Daine Alanna almost wished she had a squire again; a squire would be useful around now to collect her weapons for her.

"You see how useful I was?" Nealan drawled next to her, his eyes glinting mischievously despite the slight tension.

"The only thing useful about you, Queenscove, was your ability to provoke arguments quicker than I could, so we saved time we would have wasted on useless disagreements."

"I'm wounded."

Alanna quirked an eyebrow, and fell silent as they approached a set of stairs. A second year page almost collided with Daine on the stairs, the young boy swinging his arms wildly to keep his balance. "Mithros," the boy gasped as Numair shot out a hand and steadied him. "Thank you, Master Salamalin."

"A little more care, Page Elson."

The page bobbed his head in acknowledgement, and then paused when he caught sight of Alanna. "Oh, good!"

"Page Elson?" Numair questioned dryly.

"I have a message for the Lioness, and yourselves, sir," Page Elson said quickly. "From the stables; Sir Thom is arrived and would like for you to meet him there as soon as possible."

"Palace stables?" Alanna asked.

"No, ma'am, the private stables for Pirates Swoop."

Surprised by her son's choice in stabling, Alanna shrugged. "Thank you, Page Elson, we'll be there as soon as we've attended to another matter."

The page bobbed his head again, and turned to flee down the stairs.

"I don't remember ever having that much energy as a page," Nealan remarked.

"You didn't have it as a squire either, Queenscove," Alanna added.

"You are right though, Neal," Daine murmured, "he reminds me of Owen of Jesslaw; always moving and making me feel as though he lived in a world fifty times faster than the one I resided in."

Alanna chuckled.

"Are you still sensing the immortal, Daine?" Numair asked.

"Yes. I think we might find it in the stables – the direction is right."

Numair glanced at Alanna. "Strange, this immortal arriving at the same time and place as your son, Alanna."

Alanna frowned as they stepped outside into the rain, and hoped Thom knew what he was doing.