Disclaimer: A few characters, major and minor are mine. Same with most of the plot. Although Lady Catherine is a creation of Tamora Pierce, as is everything else.
Title: Ghost of the Past
Author: Winky-wink
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Rating: T (Just to be safe)
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Musical Affection: 'If I'm not in love' by Faith Hill.
Author's Note: Confusedknight: I hate waiting forever for stories to be update so I try to update quickly. I'm not swanked with homework yet so it's really convenient. I really liked writing some of the scenes in this chapter. Particularly the Conte family dinner. Anyways, thanks for being so nice.
Yasthira: Thank you. That was uber-sweet.
epobbp: Here you are once again...
Lutefa: Nope, they don't think she's bethrothed to Alan. No one knows about the love affair between "Alan" and "Alanna of Conte" other than Gary, Jon, Raoul, Douglass and Geoffery. And no, Abigail has not come. But they're all very good guesses.
Padme Amidala2121: I'm so glad you think the people are in character. I usually hate OOCness. And yeah, I liked feetkillers too.
Dom's Angel: Thanks a bunch.
Kokari: Thank. I like keeping it light and funny.
Ok, this chapter was fun to write. And except the plot to thicken quickly. It gets more complicated if you'll believe it and I see a scene in the future which I'm just dying to write but that'll have to wait long in the future when this story is winding down. But we're not even close to the end yet! Let me just give you a little hint though: It involves someone's pants. Haha...you'll find out eventually.
'Gossip is what what no on claims to like but everybody secretly enjoys'-Joseph Conrad
That evening Alanna went up to her chambers to get ready for dinner. As a squire, getting ready for dinner would mean rushing up to your chambers. Throwing your sword and crossbow in one corner, meeting up with your Knightmaster and then scurrying back down stairs to the Mess Hall. But, as a noble lady, getting ready for dinner was a much more complicated matter. Especially if you were the niece of the King and about to attend a private family dinner.
Firstly, she had to change gowns.
"But why?" Alanna demanded, pouting, "This yellow one is fine. It's barely been worn!"
The servingmaid looked at Alanna to see if she was joking or not, "Lady, please! You've been travelling in that all day. Surely you wouldn't want to wear a rag in front of the company you keep? Particularly not Duke Roger."
Alanna raised an eyebrow that had recently been plucked, "Why's Roger so special?"
The blonde-haired servingmaid that had just spoken exchanged a look with another servingmaid of black hair. The blonde one seemed to be asking a question with her eyes and the black one responded with a shake of the head, a fearful look in her eyes.
"We cannot say, Lady Alanna," the blonde servingmaid spoke again, "It is not our place. You will learn of the truth eventually."
The Lioness sighed. Whatever it was, it couldn't be very important if the maids knew, now could it? Or at least she prayed to Mithros it wasn't. The servingmaids fitted her with a corset and Alanna nearly fainted as they tightened the ropes at the back.
"How am I supposed to breath?" she huffed, grabbing the space just beneath her breasts.
"Is this not how they do it in Scanra?" another servingmaid with salt and pepper hair asked, looking to the lady she waited on.
"No-Alanna gasped-uh, wait, yes.-another gasp-I mean, just not so tightly, please?" she requested, the last word a plead.
The servingmaids nodded to one another and loosened the corset. Over it came a gown of a dark blue velvet. It was a thick fabric that felt like it weighed more than Alanna herself. The sleeves were slightly longer than her last gown but the neckline was still uncomfortably low. Lady Winfred said that couldn't be helped. All young noble ladies wore low necklines because they were all in hunt for a husband.
Another servingmaid curled Alanna's brownish red hair and left it out and clipped it to one side with a glimmery sapphire barette. The black haired servingmaid applied Alanna's make-up and she grumbled wondering why Winfred had taken her through the excruciating steps of learning these tricks of the trade if the servingmaids did all the real work?
'Perhaps she thought you'd want to know for later on. A time when you wanted to make yourself pretty with no servingmaids on hand,' a cruel voice that sounded an awful lot like Faithful teased her in her head.
She snorted aloud, causing the maids to look at her in surprise. Most of their mistresses rarely snorted. Alanna gave them an apologetic smile which was even more strange for a noble lady.
After they were finally done with her, the blonde-haired servingmaid with the quick mouth, whose name, Alanna learned, was Carly sighed, "That gown and that sapphire barette make your blue eyes look absolutely exquisite."
"My blue eyes?" Alanna frowned, then remembering Eleni's spell she exclaimed, "Oh! Yes...my blue eyes. Yes, well, thank you."
Carly nodded, smiling. The other maids also grinned in approval of their finished project. She wasn't the most thinnest or the most tallest girl at court but she did have a certain glow about her that couldn't be found just anywhere. Any idiot could see it.
Light music played in the banquet room exclusive only to the royal family and their selected guests. Tonight it would host all the Contes, the Naxen men, and the Carthaki Ambassador and his advisors. Alanna was escorted there by Lady Winfred, who knew her way around the palace quite well.
"You never forget where you grew up," she stated, firmly, turning a corner.
Alanna followed her and found herself in a grand hallway with portraits of the royal family. Except these weren't as formal as one normally found hanging about the castle. Some of these were of past Kings and Queens and Princes and Princess' as enfants, playing with silver rattles or a pet pup. Others even included portraits from wedding days, some even included kissing and others were of the royals joking around.
"That's Roald and me," Winfred stopped and stood by a portrait of a young boy and girl who looked like twins. They were both grinning down at Alanna and the royal Aunt from atop of a golden mare and a white stallion. "Everyone thought we were twins even though I was two years younger. I spent more time with him than I did with Georgia. She was always a daughter through and through, mother used to say, I was a son that had been trapped in a daughter's body."
The look on her face was suddenly so wistful that Alanna wondered what she had been through in all her life to make her the woman she was today. The Lioness also wondered that, if twenty years from now, she'd also look at a portrait of her younger self and feel the same way. Like she might have regretted something or the other.
After a moment, Winfred broke out of her trance, "I'm sorry for troubling you with the mumblings of an old woman, Alanna. Let's get to dinner. I'm sure the Carthaks won't want to be kept waiting. They absolutely, positively will never eat unless everyone's at the table."
Alanna nodded and then suddenly remembered something, "Lady Winfred-"
"You'll be calling me mother in public as we are," Winfred whispered, quietly so only Alanna heard, as she led her to a door at the end of the hall that was trimmed with gold and flanked by precious artifacts.
"-Mother," Alanna continued, "I need to talk to you about something a Knight said to me. Lord Imrah of Legann I think it was. Something awfully strange. About me staying in Tortall for a long time..."
Winfred looked at Alanna, suspiciously as if she thought she was lying, "Did he now? We'll discuss this later, Alanna. For now, let's try to enjoy ourselves at dinner with our family, shall we?"
Alanna nodded but was feeling rather unsettled. She noticed Lady Winfred felt the same way. Something was definitely up. And she had a feeling her 'mother' was just as confused as she was. A servingman standing outside the door opened it for them and they setted inside to a lavish scene. Various members of the royal family, the Naxens and the Carthaks intermingled. They welcomed the new arrivals, heartily. Alanna noticed Gary nudge Jonathan eagerly and the Prince gave his Naxen cousin a frown.
Lady Winfred quickly fell into talks with Queen Lianne and the Carthaki ambassador's wife, Sheila. Alanna, not knowing quite what to do in a social scene such as this, drifted off to a corner, where she pretended to be fascinated by a painting of the Black God. To her great amusement she heard whispers behind her coming from none other than her friends.
"I say, Jonathan, introduce me to her!" Gary whispered, harshly.
"Mithros Gary! Why don't you introduce yourself?" Jonathan demanded, sounding annoyed.
"Come on. You've already met her. She's your cousin. I can't just go up there and say, 'Hello, I'm Gary. Friend of your lover's. Nice to meet you too'!"
Alanna could barely resist laughing at her friend's snarky sarcasm. He obviously wanted to meet her so he could report back to the rest of the troop of their friends that would be awaiting word. She turned around and grinned at the two of them.
"A friend of Alan's you say?" Alanna said, an eyebrow arched for humor.
Jonathan smiled as Gary blushed, "Err...you heard us did you?"
"Yes. Alan tells me you enjoy your fair share of eavesdropping too?" Alanna inquired, loving the fact that she had this effect on her bigger friend.
Gary coughed, "Um, what else did Alan say exactly?"
"You're good at wrestling and a fair hand with a sword," Alanna replied, relenting her teasing. She didn't know how much more red Gary could get.
"That's quite right. I haven't introduced myself, properly," Gary said, standing and giving her a bow, "I am Gareth of Naxen."
Alanna curtsied, "Alanna of Conte, my Lord."
"Call me Gary," he waved a hand, "Alan does."
The Lioness felt inclined to curtsy again like a noble lady would, "Then you must call me Alanna."
Gary nodded and a faint smile came upon his lips, "You're just like Alan."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asked, looking between Jon and Gary, suspiciously.
"Bad thing," Jon joked as Gary said, politely, "Good thing."
Gary looked to Jonathan in surprise, "Sorry about that Alanna. He's usually not so rude."
Jonathan chuckled and Alanna knew he meant no harm. He just knew she was just as much Alan of Trebond dressed in a gown as in breeches. Gary, however, couldn't understand that and wouldn't for a long time.
"So, your squire friend, Geoffery, tells me Alan's in the infirmary," Alanna said, making conversation.
Gary frowned, "Yeah. He'll be right angry when he finds out that he missed you. How long are you here in Corus for?"
"A good long time," someone said, coming up behind Alanna.
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Roger of Conte came to stand at her side and looked at her for an awkward second before regarding Jon and Gary. Alanna wondered, fleetingly, how much of the conversation the Conte Duke had heard. Did he overhear the small detail of his cousin being in love with his foe?
"A good long time," he repeated again.
Alanna, once again, felt something was terribly wrong. Whenever Roger was around she always felt that way. But tonight was different. Tonight the harm felt like it was directed towards her and not Jonathan. The Prince, in question, frowned at Roger's words.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he implored, eyebrows knitted together.
"You'll find out soon enough," Roger replied, a loof. He then changed the subject, "How do you find Corus, cousin?"
Alanna was so lost in thought she didn't realize he could be possibly be speaking to her. Especially since she wasn't used to him referring to her as cousin.
"Cousin? Cousin?" Roger repeated, sounding a little miffed because he thought she was ignoring him.
"Alanna," Jon spoke, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"Huh?" she murmured, "Oh! I-yes, I'm quite enjoying Corus."
"You always did have a certain love for the Tortallan courts, balls and all," Roger commented, thoughtfully, "I'll make sure you go to any and all balls your heart desires."
The Lioness fidgeted, unused to kindness from her worst enemy, "Thank you."
'Of all the people I must impersonate,' Alanna thought, stubbornly, 'It just has to be the ball-loving, gown-wearing, cousin of Roger of Conte!'
Roger gave her one of his usual charming smiles and drifted off to chat with the Carthaks. Gary was taking in as much Alanna as possible because his friends would later pick his memory apart to find out what Alan's love was truely like. Alanna shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It was rather unnerving being studied as a girl. She wished Gary wouldn't look at her so closely. If he did, he might realize that she had a build awfully similar to Alan.
"I still don't understand how you can love balls so much and Alan hate them so much," Gary said, coming up beside her and looking at the painting she'd just been looking at.
Alanna shrugged, "Balls are...beautiful, aren't they?"
It was extremely difficult standing and defending the name of dance when she hated balls so much. She saw no point in mindless flirting, chatter and politics. She was much more of a do-it-yourself, up-front, hands-on sort of person.
"They're...," Alanna trailed off, thinking heavily, "They're a certain time in the life of all nobles when we can come together and just have fun? Who wants to always be working away on horses or swords or the convent? Anyways, everyone glows while they're at balls. Everyone sparkles. That's what I love best."
Halfway through her little speech, she almost found herself believing the words she spoke. Perhaps, a teeniest drop of noble lady blood in her veins did believe what she said. Though she would never admitt it.
"Eloquently put," Jon said, then noticing the other dinner guests beginnng to assemble at the tables he added, "We should get ourselves a seat."
King Roald sat at the head of the table, Queen Lianne at his left and Duke Gareth on his right. Jon sat next to his mother and Gary next to his father. Lady Winfred snuggled into a chair beside her nephew and Roger settled in beside Gary. Alanna was beside Lady Winfred, surrounded by Roger and Carthaks. The servingmen came out with the first course. Cream of oak soup. Alanna sipped it, quietly, watching Lady Winfred for ladylike behaviourisms.
She caught the gray eyes of the ambassador from Carthak and he smiled at her. Alanna immediately riveted her eyes towards her soup bowl. Messing with Carthaks was not a good thing. Especially since their current emperor, Kale, was a madman and his heir apparent, Ozorne, looked to be no better.
"Lady Winfred," the Carthaki ambassador spoke Common well and without a hint of an accent said, "Is this diamond among pearls your daughter?"
"Yes, Lord Gugal. Dear, why don't you introduce yourself to our important guest from Carthak?" Lady Winfred suggested, managing to eat, talk and look pretty all at once.
Alanna struggled to swallow her soup before saying, "I am Lady Alanna of Conte, my Lord. It is an honor to make your acquaintance."
"So polite," Lord Gugal's wife murmured, "How old did you say she was, my Tortallan friend?"
"I didn't," Lady Winfred smiled but it was a cold one, "But since you ask, she's close to seventeen."
"Only two years younger than my eldest son!" Lord Gugal exclaimed, a devious grin spreading across his face as he exchanged glances with his wife.
Alanna and Winfred both knew what they were thinking. They wanted their son to be married with the Tortallan King's niece. As if that'd ever happen, Alanna thought, darkly, if they wanted to marry their son off to Lady Winfred's daughter, they'd have to make a long journey to Scanra where Abigail was. She shivered, involuntarily. She hoped none of the other men at court got it into their heads that she would marry them, their brothers, their sons, their nephews or any man related to them whatsoever. She was going to finish this Alanna of Conte act as soon as Lady Winfred left Corus.
"Got Scanran blood in you, have you?" Lord Gugal asked, a tease in his voice, "Then you're a fighter, coming from all those warlords, aren't you? Still, you've got the looks of a Tortallan beauty, m'dear. Perfect. You're perfect."
The Lioness got red in the face. Did he think she was just some object he could buy? Didn't he think that marrying her off to his son would require the permission of a many good people? What an ignorant, self-assured, pig, Alanna thought, grimly.
Roger seemed to frown at this sort of talk too, "She's only a girl, Lord Gugal."
Alanna was relieved at him for protecting his young cousin. At least, it seemed, Roger was gentleman enough to care for the weaker female bodies in his family.
"Doesn't look much like a girl though, does she?" he replied, staring down at her-well-you know. Alanna didn't believe she had ever been so offended.
"Yet she is. And, although I believe we may disagree on this, Lord Gugal, a girl cannot do all that a woman can. She can't, for insistance, raise a child or even rear one, properly. Neither can she care for a household of nobles and servants or slaves as you have in Carthak," Roger retorted, face rather pale.
He was being helpful, yes, but Alanna had a feeling there was a reasoning behind it. She felt as if she were just another one of his pawns. Fortunately, Roger's calm yet ferocious tones had quieted the ambassador and his wife for now but Alanna occasionally caught them stealing glances at her. It made her squirm and feel uncomfortable throughout the rest of the meal.
On the morning of Alanna's first day as a noble lady she was surprised that she felt a peculiar emotion. Not anger or depression or annoyance as she had suspected but curiousity. However, she decided later on, this was perfectly normal since she'd always been the curious type, hadn't she? Curious enough to wonder if anyone would catch her if she dressed up as a boy and tried to become a Knight. And now, she was curious enough to wonder what would've happened if her life was the opposite. What if she'd followed in the footsteps of so many women before her?
Waking up late was one advantage of being a noble lady, Alanna realized, feeling the ten o'clock sun smother her face in a yellow warmth. She had a dreamy look in her eyes and sighed, pleasantly. Suddenly she felt guilty for being so carefree as she realized the rest of her fellow squires were probably already past three or four of their classes for the day.
However, she didn't have much time to feel bad because her door burst open as an onslot of servingmaids, led by Carly, made their way into her chambers. Some made a beeline for her wardrobe to pick out which gown she was to wear for today. Another went to set up the wash tub in which she'd be scrubbed clean. The feisty blonde, who had already caught Alanna's eye and heart, scurried over to the Lioness herself.
"Wake up, m'lady," she said, standing over her, "Time for breakfast."
Alanna gave a groan and sat up in bed. She looked around for a pair of breeches or a pair of anything since all she wore right now was a tunic that barely made it to her knees. But her search was cut short as Carly and the black-haired maid, Lydia, pulled her out of bed. Before Alanna could protest they had pulled the tunic over her head and half-carried her to the wash tub. Another maid was heating it up with her Gift.
"Ladies, please!" Alanna yelped as they dumped her into the wash tub, creating a large splash of water, "Isn't this a bit obscene?"
Lydia grinned, "Your mother said you'd be difficult, lady. So we were just to make sure we got you bathed and ready for breakfast ten minutes to theeleventh hour."
"Even if we had to use physical force," added a smug redhead that shared Alanna's real hair color.
Alanna sighed, "She told you right then. But next time, can I get a warning? And, I really can wash myself, you know."
"Whatever you say," Carly agreed, lifting Alanna's arm up and beginning to scrub it, "You get dirty awfully quick for a noble, if you don't mind my saying, lady."
Alanna smiled, "I know. Let's just say I've been around men far too long, eh?"
After her bath, the servingmaids started dressing her in a gown made of a simple cotton like material in green that was embroided in gold. Alanna felt fairly quiet throughout this whole proccess, remembering that she hated mornings. Next came hair and make up. Today the maids did nothing to it, just felt it out straight and flat. The brownish red hung around her shoulders and Alanna resisted the urge to twitch. The face paints had a slightly bronze tinge to them, making Alanna's boring pale skin take on the flare of a tanned Bazhir. The end effect was that of a wild, warrior princess type which pleased Alanna.
That pleasure did not last long when she saw the feetkillers they laid out for her. It was those beautiful green velvet ones.
"I will not wear them!" Alanna said, upturning a nose like the noble shewas acting as and truely, that she was.
The maids looked at one another in shock
"Don't you want your gown to match your shoes?" one asked in alarm.
"No!" Alanna cried, crossing her arms over her chest and getting surprised at feeling bosoms there. She looked down and looked up again with a blush. She knew she had them, of course, but they were usually bound so she never actually felt them there if that made any sense.
The maids looked more confused than ever. The redhead was the first to speak, "I don't understand..."
"Well then-," Alanna paused to hear her name. It was Charlene, "-Charlene you'd best learn quick that I don't do feetkillers."
"Feetkillers?" Carly repeated, then giggled at her nickname, "You're a strange one Miss, if you don't mind me saying, that's for sure."
Alanna smiled at her, "I am a strange one."
"Well, then," Lydia continued, seeming to me the eldest and therefore the most responsible, "You still have to wear them. You, unlike most of the royal nobility need them. You're shorter than little Anewyn, over there."
The Lioness finally gave in. She would only attract grave attention to herself if she strolled about wearing boots and reaching barely five feet. Contes were known for their height afterall. She also had a bad suspicion that Helena, Lady Catherine or worse, Roger, would discover her.
After getting dressed, which had taken a good part of an hour, Alanna headed down to dinner. They were among the final few to arrive. The people who came latest were, of course, the King and Queen. The entire audience of the Mess Hall stood at their entrance and most bowed or curtsied. The royal pair nodded to them and finally came to sit down at the grandest table at the front of the room. Then, and only then, did the meal begin.
"Did you sleep well?" Lady Winfred questioned, cutting her bacon.
Alanna nodded, "Yes, but it took a while to get used to the bed. It was so soft my spine felt like it had no support."
"It takes getting used to but that's what most noble women sleep on," Lady Winfred went on, "What plans have you for today?"
"Well, since you won't let me do what I want to do until two days time," Alanna said, hinting at her squire duties, "I'll have nothing planned. The the ball is this evening."
"In your honor," Winfred reminded her, "And don't scrunch up your face like that. It's unbecoming. You'll go to this ball tonight and enjoy it. My daughter is well known for her love of them. Should you act out of character..."
Alanna wrinkled her nose, disdainfully but then said, "I won't. I'll be the life of the ball. I'll dance with every man that comes my way. I'll-well you get my point, I suppose?"
"Quite," her fake mother said, pertly, "But you have nothing planned for the day, I hear? That's just as well because if you did have anything planned, it would've had to have been cancelled. I arranged for two young ladies to show you around the palace. Noble, of course."
"Who?" Alanna asked, rather unconcerned. She hoped, whoever it was, it was someone tolerable.
"Ladies Delia and Cythera," Lady Winfred answered, "They seemed eager to meet the cousin to the heir of the throne."
Alanna choked on her milk. It was not exactly a ladylike thing to do. Some of it squirted out of her nose as she fought to breath, properly. A nobleman sitting not far from them gave her a disgusted look and moved down two seats.
The Lioness returned his look for a dirty one of her own before exclaiming in a furious whisper, "What? Delia? I despise her!"
"You most certainly do not," Lady Winfred snapped, the picture of an annoyed noble, "Alan of Trebond despises her. Alanna of Conte, on the other hand, barely even knows her. Are you not Alanna of Conte?"
Alanna very much wanted to slap the old witch up the head at that moment but resisted and replied, "Yes I am. I shall act accordingly."
To spend a day being given the grand tour of the castle by Delia was less appealing than the thought of kissing a pig but she'd live through it. At least Cythera would be there and she was far more agreeable than her wench of a friend.
Near the end of breakfast, Delia and Cythera came over to Alanna's table and sat down on either side of her. Lady Winfred, who was sitting across from her, gave her a quick smile and said, "Daughters of Tortall, I make my leave."
Alanna gave her a pleading look that clearly said, 'Please don't leave me here alone with her!'
Winfred pretended not to notice and left. Alanna smiled, weakly, at her companions. Cythera returned smile for smile. She was very blonde and very beautiful. The most eye-catching lady at court perhaps. Though Delia, and now Helena, both gave her a run for her money. Speaking of Delia, she was wearing her signature green and had her dark curls clipped to both sides. She smiled at Alanna too but her eyes held a wild cunning within them. If Cythera was the slightly soft-brained woman you married, Delia was the mysterious, seductive mistress who you always kept at hand.
"Did Lady Winfred tell you we're to show you around, today?" Cythera asked, lightly, placing her hand under her chin to hold it up.
"Yes," Alanna nodded, finishing off her meal. Between these two pretty young ladies she felt rather ugly. She was a mere mule among stallions.
"Done? Let's go," Delia said, "We've got tons to show you. I don't know how you can ever keep yourself away from Tortall. Its court is so elegant and refined. The Scanran court is vulgar and full of brutes."
Alanna decided she ought to feel offended since her supposed father was Scanran, himself, "Actually, it's not that bad. Perhaps you get your feathers ruffled once in a while but that never does any harm."
"Shall we go to the menagerie first?" Cythera suggested, hastily, wishing to change the subject.
The two other girls agreed, eyeing each other carefully. Alanna knew that Delia didn't hate her quite yet but she must dislike her by now. Alanna was in a position that Delia wanted to be in. Surrounded by royalty all the time. To be royal herself.
They exited the castle and came onto the sweeping lawns outside. The grass was still green but it was beginning to yellow. The leaves were already beginning to fall from the trees and Alanna sensed that Midwinter Festival was not very far away. Cythera and Delia headed towards the menagerie, purposefully, and Alanna dawdled, trying to act like she didn't know the way too.
"How are the men in Scanra?" Delia questioned, looking giggly all of a sudden.
Alanna felt her own face go red. She hadn't realized that even Delia was a young girl of only fifteen or sixteen too. "They're...fine."
"Can't be as handsome as the men here at court," Cythera's eyes glazed over.
Delia rolled her eyes and looked to Alanna's confused face, "This idiot over here believes she's in love."
"Who's this person she loves, exactly?" Alanna demanded, leaving her hands hung limply at her sides.
Alanna felt an odd sensation then. Curiousity about someone's lovelife. She feared it was her feminine impulses acting up. She knew no good could come of this. Dressing up as a girl, giving her guiltier urges a reason to believe she could be a noble lady as well as a Knight. She brushed it away.
Cythera broke out of her daze, "He's a friend of the Prince's."
"Sir Raoul?" Alanna stated the first name that came into her mind. She had been hanging around him a lot.
However, the beautiful blonde only made a face, "Everyone thinks that you know. I don't know why. The only reason I'm ever around himis because he's a nice friend to me and he's close to Gary."
"Gary?" Alanna spluttered, causing Delia to raise her eyebrows.
She had never-Not Gary-It couldn't be...Alanna couldn't possibly bring herself to imagine Cythera loving Gary when she was near him so little. Her Naxen friend was always in the shadow of his more handsome, princely cousin and his sharp tongue and cynical humor were not usually considered admirable traits. Not that Alanna minded. Oh no, she loved her friend greatly. But to imagine Cythera, one who could have anyone at in the palace, to love the court's own jester was hard to believe.
"You sound surprised for someone who knows almost nothing about either of them," Delia commented, raptly breaking Alanna out of her stupefied thoughts.
She tried to shrug it off, "I am rather surprised. I thought you fancied Sir Raoul."
Cythera smiled, "I like him but I love Gary."
"Does Sir Gareth know this?" Alanna asked, knowing it was impossible that he knew. If he did, he'd fall into her arms in a matter of seconds.
"No and I couldn't tell him," Cythera blushed, "I'm afraid he'll reject me since he knows me so little."
'How very wrong you are,' Alanna thought, 'Gary could never refuse a pretty face like your's.'
Instead she said, "I think you should tell him."
"You think she'll listen?" Delia demanded, always cynical, "I give her the same advice three times a day."
"That's because you're so comfortable around all men!" Cythera cried, sounding upset, "You've charm which I don't have, Delia. You've even been courted by the Prince for Mithros sake!"
Alanna's face darkened at this and Delia noticed, "Not anymore I'm not. I'm guessing he has another."
Her eyes were on Alanna's face so the Lioness said, quickly, "I don't know, if that's what you're thinking. My cousin and I aren't that close."
"Oh. I had hoped you would know," Delia sighed, dramatically, "Oh well, it's for the best. I don't know who he's courting and he doesn't know who I'm courting. All's fair."
Cythera's eyes widened, "You're courting someone? Why haven't you told me?"
"A lady must have her secrets, 'thera," Delia explained, casually stroking her dark tresses, "Here's the gates to the menagerie, Alanna. Come, ignore the King's Own. They're naught but show pieces."
The men of the Own seemed to have heard and looked rather offended but could not retort since Delia had not spoken far from the truth. The King's Own had once been a group of some of the most elite Knights in the realm. Over the years they became nothing but trinkets of glory and wealth. Today, most of the King's Own had neither witnessesd war and some had not even left Corus in their many years of service.
The Tortallan menagerie was not the best in all the world but that didn't mean it didn't come in a close second. Large and wide, it was home to a number of creatures. Sadly, some looked out at Alanna through cages. Whenever she was here she tried to divert her eyes from all the monkies and parrots and other such animals that looked at her with eyes that looked so human, it made her feel guilty.
"Let's go to the elephants," Cythera suggested, "Have you ever seen elephants, Lady Alanna?"
The Lioness shook her head even though she knew what an elephant was. She'd seen one or two the first time she'd been to the menagerie. They were still kept on that same plateau as they had been the last time. They stood around, lazily, looking bored.
Alanna tried to look at them in awe as she had done the first time she'd seen them and stood a bit farther away from Delia and Cythera so that they could have a private chat. Even though she pretended she couldn't hear, Alanna couldn't help but eavesdrop. Goddess, she was becoming more and more like Gary everyday!
"Who're you with? Tell me, please?" Cythera begged, speaking softly but urgently.
"I'll give you a clue. He's handsome and powerful. Very powerful," Delia hinted.
Though Cythera whispered back, "Who? That doesn't tell me much. Everyone at court is powerful and most are handsome."
Alanna sensed she knew. Handsome and very powerful...it was starting to sound an awful lot like Roger of Conte. She shook the thought off. Even if they were together, this information meant no real significance to herself.
'At least,' she thought, 'Not yet, it doesn't.'
For the ball that evening Alanna dawned a silk gown that was entirely smooth and white except for a large diamond pendant that sat between her breasts. The neckline was lower than it had ever been before. As opposed to the morning, in which the maids had left her hair wild and beautifully unkept, this evening it was slicked up into a bun that made her face more elegant that it actually was. Her face paints were light and glossy and she wore hardly any jewellery save for a silver rimmed ring on her right hand. Tonight's feetkillers were of the same white silk and fitted her feet to a par. They were slightly more comfortable than the shoes she'd worn before so she was grateful.
"You look lovely, dear," Lady Winfred complimented her, when Alanna had met up with her in the hall.
The Lioness gave her a bittersweet smile, "No, you look lovely. I'm mediocre as usual."
"A noble lady accepts her compliments gratefully and graciously, Alanna," Winfred warned her.
"How can I accept compliments that aren't really mine?" Alanna asked, quietly to Winfred as they started off to the Ballroom, "This-all this-do you think it's really me? It's all just play acting. What you're wearing, what you're doing, that's really you. And it's beautiful."
She surprised herself by suddenly wishing this whole 'Alanna of Conte' was really a part of her. Not a large part but still a part of her. She looked at Lady Winfred who was wearing a golden gown with a golden net over it that was embroided with black sequins. She wore a black veil that cut across her eyes and gave her the dramatic air of someone very royal and very regal.
Winfred was silent for a moment, when she finally spoke, her words surprised Alanna, "How do you know this is really me?"
Alanna blushed, "I don't know, I suppose."
Again, a silence ensued. Then, "When I was younger I was very much like you, prettyness. I always wanted glory for myself and for my country. I wanted to be a hero. It sounds foolish coming from someone who was once a proper Princess and knew she would have to serve her Crown in a different way, doesn't it? But I was young...and had ambitious dreams. I don't know if anyone told you or not but a few years back I comissioned for my-the kingdom to allow girls to train as Knights."
"Oh?" Alanna said, trying to sound surprised even though Jon had mentioned it.
"Yes, and I failed. I was so angry I left Tortall. I left home. And I married a Scanran to spite my father and my brother," Lady Winfred spoke, slowly, seeming to be choosing her words carefully, "If you're anything like me, I'm guessing you have a rabid temper. Never let it get the best of you, prettyness or else you might just lose the person you love the most. I lost my brother."
"Announcing Lady Winfred of Conte, Royal Aunt of Tortall and her daughter, Lady Alanna of Conte, Royal Niece of Tortall," a herald called out, as Alanna and Winfred descended down the stairs into the Ballroom.
Alanna had not even noticed they had already arrived until the herald interrupted their chatter. The Ballroom was beautifully decorated and the beauty was magnified by the majestic swans that some called Nobles who weredancing and gossiping and debating and flirting all across the room in gorgeous silks and satins. The Lioness also noted the pages were present, serving drinks and other hor d'oeuvres. The squires were there too but as guests.
"Winfred!" someone yelped and the two woman who had just entered turned around. A woman in a bright blue gown was striding towards them, a grin on her face. "Is that really you, Winnie?"
The confused look slid off Alanna's fake mother's face and was replaced by a wicked grin, "Don't tell me it's Devrah of Dunlath?"
"Tis, my good friend, 'tis!" Devrah of Dunlath cried, overjoyed, "It's been so long since I've seen or heard from you! And, Mithros, this is jewel your daughter?"
Winfred nodded and nudged Alanna forward. She curtsied and said, timidly, "Alanna of Conte, my lady."
"I have a daughter your age," Devrah noted, "Her name's Yolane. I'm sure she'll help you around the palace if you ask her. Now, Winnie, you must come with me and meet up with the other ladies. Everyone's here tonight. Jaquelyn, Armada, Gade..."
Alanna bobbed her head and made leave of the conversation. She would leave the older women to catch up on their own. While she was here, she might as well enjoy herself by meeting up with her friends. Her eyes scanned the room for Jon or Gary or Raoul or anyone for that matter. She did not have to search long because a minute or so later someone knelt to speak, softly behind her.
"Lady Alanna."
She turned around and there stood Geoffery of Meron, grinning foolishly with Douglass at his side, looking oft embarrassed.
"Why Geoffery, it's good to see you again," Alanna said, cheerfully because she was supposed to be enjoying this court experience, "And who's your friend?"
"Lady Alanna of Conte, Douglass of Veldine," Geoffery introduced the two of them, "Ignore that blush of his. He gets it around all women."
Alanna smiled, warmly, loving her friends' company more than ever, "And where are the other's? Sirs Gary and Raoul?"
"Off with Jonathan, m'lady," Douglass said, matter-of-factly, "Would you like us to help you look for them?"
"Look for who?" a deep Naxen baritone voice demanded, creeping up on them, "Not me, surely?"
"Surely not," Geoffery teased, "Especially notwhen a lady is present."
Gary, Raoul and Jonathan had all come up around them. Alanna inspected Gary more closely than usual because of what she'd found out about Cythera and him this afternoon. She scanned Raoul. He was his same old self. She hadn't really expected him to change in the span of two days but she still missed him. As usual her eyes finally lingered and landed on Jon, watching him move gracefully as he bowed to her and she to him in turn. His hair was tousled, lightly, as if fingers had been going through them only moments before. Alanna suddenly wished it had been her fingers.
"Raoul, you've not met cousin Alanna yet have you?" Jon questioned, politely, indicating an introduction about to come.
He shook his head, "Not in flesh and blood no but I've met your persona a thousand times over as Alan described you to me. It's an honor to finally meet you, Lady."
Her hand passed under his lips and it felt very strange. Particularly when she'd seen him do many times before but never to her. Suddenly, she realized with a shock, she was that girl that they allcrowded around. She looked out of her circle of friends and noticed many of the young noble ladies giving her dirty looks and who wouldn't, what with her hogging all the most handsome men at court.
"The honor is all mine," Alanna assured, "Any friend of Alan's is a friend of mine."
"Alanna," someone greeted her warmly. Delia. "Nice to see you've already made so many good friends at court. Look, now you're already mingling with the most desirable men in the room."
Everyone in the circle but Alanna grinned at her arrival. She was wearing a bronze gown with an even lower neckline than Alanna's gown if that was possible. Alanna was afraid that any second something would pop out giving tremendous joy to her friends. She also feared that Jon would find himself enamoured with her again if he spent enough time with her.
"You're too kind, Lady Delia," Geoffery said, looking in awe of her beauty.
Delia looked at him, blankly, not knowing who he really was.
"You're adorable. For a squire," was her verdict.
Alanna clenched her fists at her sides. Who was she to judge any of her friend's? However, she couldn't exactly say anything. Geoffery, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind that she'd judged him at all. He looked like his knees might buckle at the sight of her.
"Your Highness, that royal blue, it looks stunning on you," she said, turning her attention on Jonathan.
Instantly, the other boys were put off. Already they were beginning to leave the band they'd just had. Raoul and Douglass went off to a corner where they could get refreshments, Geoffery went to a gathering of young ladieson another side of the dance floor, and Gary, to Alanna's great pleasure, went to say hello to Cythera. They knew they had no chance with a woman once she'd spied Jonathan. He was far more handsome than anyone else and he could promise any lady he married the title of Queen of Tortall. What was not to like about that?
'What indeed?' Alanna wondered to herself, studying her Knightmaster, quietly.
She found herself drifting away from him too. Alanna knew she was supposed to look like she'd been to court all her life but she couldn't. She was lost in this world of colors and movement. In less than ten minutes she found herself out on the balcony in the moonlight, hearing the music spill out into the night air in soft notes. She sighed, feeling restless, and stared out onto the full moon, far away.
She thought of Lady Winfred and what she'd said about quick tempers and broken dreams. For someone who seemed so perfect on the outside, she was very torn and regretful on the inside. Alanna hoped she wouldn't be like her fake mother one day. Speaking of mothers...
'Who were you, I wonder,' Alanna said in her mind, thinking the thought she'd pushed away from herself over the many years, 'Who were you, mother of mine, sister to vicious Catherine and wife to a man who even on his deathbed was busy with his nose in a book?'
"I must say I'm surprised to see a lady of your beauty all alone tonight," someone quiet-someone sweet whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her neck and cheek.
She turned to look at the handsome Knight (and Prince) standing to her right. He was leaning against the parapet railings just as she was. His blue eyes gleamed in the dark and his face was expressionless.
She smiled at what was he saying, remembering this conversation word for word, "I'm not alone anymore, am I? Not now that you grace me with your company."
He grinned, happy that she remembered, "Why don't we move this conversation to the dance floor, m'lady?"
Alanna made a face, "We're still joking, right? You're not really serious, are you?"
"I believe your line was 'That can be arranged'," Jon said, the corners of his mouth twitching, "And yes, I was serious. Why don't we dance?"
"Because I can't dance!" Alanna protested, face flushed, "I'll only embarrass you and myself."
"Come on. You're getting better," Jon pointed out.
"No," Alanna said, firmly, arms crossed over her chest.
"But why?" he demanded, looking to be on the verge of pouting.
She looked at him, sharply, "Why do you want to dance with me so badly?"
He shrugged, trying to seemed platonic, "Just...because."
"Not a good enough answer," The Lioness stated, frowning.
"Please?" he tried again.
She shook her head.
"For me? As a Mindwinter Festival present?" he asked, taking a different angle.
"Midwinter Festival is not for another few weeks," Alanna responded, coldly.
She made the mistake of looking at his face and saw the longing there and gave in, "But...oh, alright! I give up. I know what you're trying to do. Embarrass me in front of the entire court..."
He grinned, shaking off her last few words, and taking her hand, he led her inside. Another melody had only just started up and they joined in it, quickly. Fortunately for Alanna it wasn't very difficult. In fact, it was very much like the waltz they'd practiced in Lady Winfred's chambers. The lady in question was looking down at Alanna from her table and smiling to herself.
"Faithful's been pining for you these past two days, you know," Jonathan leaned in and said into her ear.
"Let him suffer," Alanna grumbled, "The day I left for this he gave me a mighty hurtful scratch on my calve."
The dance continued and Alanna was so caught up in the magic of the moment. So caught up in the tingling feelings shooting up and down her spine and the butterflies in her stomach that she brought herself to believe nothing could go wrong that night. After at least three dances with her Knightmaster, she settled down into a chair while he went to fetch them some drinks, not knowing her face was aglow with the beauty of the moment. She had been in his prescence as a girl and hadn't humiliated either of them! Better yet, she had also made the better half of the female population on the room extremely envious of her. A conversation broke her out of her reverie.
"Red-faced after dancing with the Prince," a lady noted, chuckling evilly, "What a pity that she chose the wrong cousin to fancy."
"And what, Serena, could you ever mean by that?" another implored, sounding eager to hear gossip.
"Well," the first said, smugly, "It's not fact yet but as close as that the King's niece from Scanra is bethrothed to Lady Georgia's son."
"Not, His Grace, Roger of Conte?" the second cried out in dismay.
"The very same," the Lady One affirmed, "Although, rumor also has it that neither Lady Winfred nor Lady Alanna have a clue about the engagement. Apparently Roger's mother and Alanna's father have been negotiating this without anyone else's approval. Of course, the Conte Duke is in on this, clever as he is."
Lady Two sighed, deeply, "Another handsome Tortallan man lost to Scanra..."
Alanna listened in on this, heart thumping in her chest. Her face was pale. Her marry Roger? Her eyes rolled and she fell off her chair in a dead faint.
Author's Note: Not much Catherine and Helena in this chapter but they'll be there next chapter. And as will a more detailed explaination on this claimed engagement between Alanna and Roger. I heart sticky situations.
winky-wink