Please review, it totally makes my day! I really want to know what you think.

This is a one-shot. I already realize that this is an OOC Alanna, so please bear with me!

This story starts off in the catacombs in the castle. Alanna is confronting Roger on Jon's coronation. The story is in Alanna's POV.

Traitor

"You will do this because, Lady Knight, you will share it with me. Did you think I would end it without you? Come, my Lioness, together, we shall rule this country. Me as the king, and you- you will be my queen. We shall rule this land, and bring prosperity."

I felt sick to my stomach. "Roger! Why in the world would I join forces with you? I'd rather you lock me in the dungeon until I die!"

Roger chuckled. "No, my dear, you will join me. You carried your identity, you and Jon's relationship, the death of your mother, the meeting of the Goddess, all alone. You need a break, Lioness. But with this destiny, you shall never get it."

"How-how did you know about Jon- the Goddess- how did-that's impossible!" I cry. This couldn't be happening. I take a step back into the guard position, lightning poised in front of me.

"Was Thom ever any good at keeping secretes as a boy? No, I didn't think so. It is no matter." He shrugs. "Come Lioness, you know you want this. Come my dear, I am here. It is either now, or after years of with me. You cannot avoid it."

I sit on my throne, scrutinizing the man who bows down before me.

"Away," I order with a wave of my hand. Two guards stepped up, each grabbing one of the man's arms.

"No! Please! Don't do this to me! No! Please!" He shrieks.

A trumpet sounded in the distance.

"All rise, for the entrance of his highness, King Roger VI," a guard calls out.

The entire room filed with the shuffles of everyone's feet as they scrambled to get up.

"Milord," I curtsy.

King Roger VI takes the seat beside me.

A nest of birds sits on a tree branch outside of my window. This is the closest thing to a human child I have seen in years. One baby bird hops out of the nest. Teetering close to the edge of the branch, the baby bird begins to flap its awkward wings. Jumping into the air,it lifts up, and its wings a blur as it tries desperately to gain altitude. My heart fills with unfamiliar hope, as I will the bird to stay alive. It stays aloft for several moments, but then, its immature wings give and the baby bird hurtles towards the ground with a dull thud. The air resounds with the mournful cries of the baby's parents. I shrug. What hope did it have, anyway?

Sitting at my dresser, I run a comb through my gray hair. At age forty-three, my hair has little remnants of its original fiery shade. I fix my dull purple eyes on my image in the mirror. I used to be beautiful. I used to be one of the best knights in the entire realm. Yet, now, there are no more knights. There is no need. There is nothing left in Tortall worth protecting.

I travel down the cold stone steps, into the dungeon. There are only a couple of prisoners here. Everybody else is shot. I walk in step behind Roger as he leads me through the twisting, creaking, rotting corridors of the once beautiful castle. He stops at a door, and peeks into the medal bars of the cell.

"Hello, cousin." His voice holds a certain amount of venomous pleasure to it as he looks upon what once used to be the king of Tortall. The old man looks up, but does not see. He turns away. Slowly, over the course of twenty-one years, he has worn away. He looks to be a man of eighty years, when he is only forty-six.

Walking into the cell, Roger bends down, right next to Jon's ear.

"I have narrowed down your punishment to three things," he whispers cruelly. "I shall decide tomorrow, what your fate is."

Jonathan's look is one of relief. For the past twenty-one years, Roger has made it a ritual to come down and visit his cousin. Every time, he tells Jon on ideas he has for punishment: punishment for being alive.

Jonathan, after so long in being in a cell, would just be happy to die. He looks over at me. I, the once beautiful Lioness, am as worn away as he is. He catches my eyes and holds it, willing me not to look away. He still has that power over me. He holds my gaze for several moments. In those several moments, he relives his past with me: the black city, the sweating sickness, the night of my seventeenth birthday, the argument in the desert, and the day of his coronation. These memories have his desired effect on me: unrest. He has never been able to communicate with me like that before. I walk away, tears streaming down my face.

At dinner that night, I take slow bites of my food. I had grown used to the tastelessness of the food, but after seeing Jon, my mouth hungers for more. I look over to Roger, who sits across from me. He is all I have, and yet, I have nothing at all.

That night, when Roger is asleep, I sneak away back into the dungeons. I have never done this before. I walk up to Jon's cell.

"Jon?" The name is so unused; it tastes awkward in my mouth. Yet, just saying it makes shivers go up my back. It has been many years since I have felt any emotion other than anger. He turns and looks at me. Wordlessly, he turns and looks back around.

Soundlessly, I open the cell door with a key hanging off of a peg next to it, and enter the cell. I have never done this alone. I crouch in the straw that serves as his bedding.

"Jon?" He looks at me again.

"Jon, please talk to me." My voice is weak and quivering.

"What's there to say? I shall die soon. Thank Mithros," he adds quickly. Even in a hoarse whisper, his voice still makes me shiver in pleasure.

"Alanna?" He croaks. "What happened?"

"I don't know."

"You betrayed us. You betrayed us all. You're a traitor."

I don't say anything.

"But I still love you- if I haven't forgotten what love is." I look up at this. "Do you still remember what love is?"

I shake my head no.

"Think of me, think of George, and think of Liam. We love you. Even after what you have done. Even if you let them die. They still love you. As do I." Having said this, he turns away again.

I nod. "Good night," I whisper as I get up and leave.

Roger and I came again the next day to visit Jon. Roger is oblivious to my late night visit. Good, he doesn't need to know.

Entering the cell, Roger bends down and whispers something for Jon's ears only. I can see from his happy expression it is his death sentence. I look away. Another burden has been placed upon me. I cannot do this. I know I can no longer do what is asked of me. I did it for Liam, George, even Faithful, my beloved cat. I cannot do it to him. I just cannot.

Roger straightens up, brushing himself off. "Come, my dearest," and he walks away.

I give one last meaningful glance at Jon, before I too get up and go.

"What is his punishment?" I ask as we make our way up the winding stone steps.

"Beheading."

I get that sick feeling in my stomach I'm so used to.

"I die tomorrow," he tells me indifferently. He acts as if it is not his life that is about to be taken away. "'Lanna?" I look at him. "Promise that it won't be you whom wields the sword that will behead me."

I say nothing.

"Promise me! I know how Roger's mind works. I know it will be you. Just promise me you will say no. I can die, but not by your hand. Please! The force in his voice makes me turn away. Roger will make me do it. Just as me made me do it before for everyone

"Don't do it Alanna. In the name of the Dark God, promise it will not be you."

I nod. I do my best to stay resolute. "I promise."

At dawn that day, I wake up, and dress a bit more informal than usual. Roger raises a brow, but says nothing, thankfully. I used to say "Thank Mithros", or "Thank the mother". I can't say that any more. I have no faith left.

The beheading will occur in a platform in the town square. About twenty-two or twenty-three people have shown up to watch. That is a good sign, considering that that is almost ΒΌ of the population of Corus.

Jon is brought foreword with a piece of cloth tied about his head. He is thrown onto the executioner's block as the cloth is removed. He immediately catches my eye and smiles. It was a faint smile, one that I alone could catch.

Roger hands me a sword. "Presume," he orders. I walk up to Jon, sword in hand.

"Don't do it Alanna. Please don't. You know what you said. Juat drop it. Run. The mother will protect you." He murmurs, the sweat glistening on his brow. Briefly I consider his proposal.

"What's the matter? Go on," Roger snaps.

I look at Jon. He stares at me, openmouthed. What little hope he had left fled away. Jon looks like the little bird, who tried to fly but fell so far. I whisper, "I'm sorry."

I was once a lover, knight and friend. Now, I am queen, a wife, and a sufferer.

I am a traitor.