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: 'Bad Day' by Daniel Powter.
Author's Note: WitchyMage: Thanks and, believe me, cousin on cousin really irks me too. My dislike of it hasn't been as poignant in previous chapters but it shines through in this one. Families shouldn't have marriage within them in my opinion. Anyways, thanks for reviewing.
Kokari: I'll try. I'll try. I'm glad that I got you hooked.
epobbp: Yeah, I feel bad for her too. Too bad it gets even more messed up for her in this chapter.
Padme Amidala2121: Thanks so much. That's really sweet. And, yeah, Helena did totally deserve that. I liked that part too, haha.
Ok things get pretty interesting in this chapter so I hope you like it. And I also hope you review it.
'Insanity: a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world'-R.D. Laing
Alanna carefully poured a spoonful of purple liquid. Holding it, gently, she squeezed the cork back on the vial with one hand, which, she thought, was a great accomplishment. Steadying the teaspoon of potion in front of her, she looked at it, fake blue eyes gleaming. Without another hesitation she brought it to her mouth and swallowed, swiftly. She went to the mirror and watched as her hair shortened and got redder and redder. The blue in her eyes deepened to violet and once again, she was Alan of Trebond. With make-up that is. She frowned and went to the stone basin to wash it off her face. She rubbed thoroughly, not wanting to be embarrassed again. Last time she'd had make-up on, Geoffery'd noticed. Finally, after a good five-minute scrubbing she decided she was fine enough.
Since she was still in 'Alanna of Conte's' rooms, she had to go to a hidden panel in the wall to find the squire's attire, all in Conte colors, left there for her via Lady Winfred via Jonathan via a very suspicious servingmaid. She snatched it out and changed, quickly. It was early in the morning and, if she was lucky, no one would catch her leaving these chambers. She tossed the gown she was wearing on the bed and didn't even bother to check herself over in the mirror before tiptoeing out the door.
Praise be to the Great Mother Goddess! Not a soul had seen her leave the chambers or even the visiting noble's quarters. Apparently, no nobility rose with the sun. However, in the squire's and page's part of the palace, everyone was very much awake. The lively atmosphere lifted the downcast mood Alanna had been in for the past two days.
On her way to breakfast, she met up with her greatest companion. Her cat, Faithful. He studied her with a sort of stubborn adoration.
'You're having simply the most astounding identity crisis,' he purred, brushing against her ankles.
She picked him up and looked straight into his amethyst eyes and growled, "I am not having an identity crisis! It's just...a bit messy right now."
'Think what you want,' Faithful sniffed, 'I still say you have an identity crisis.'
She went to the Mess Hall and found her usual set of friends already there, indulging in the food, heartily. Gary caught sight of her first and barked something to the rest of them. They all turned and looked at her, smiling brightly.
"Alan!" Geoffery cried, running towards her, "Where've you been? You missed everything!"
He grabbed her arm and began pulling her along by it so they could get to the table faster. She grinned at him-at them all, really-glad to be back. It made her forget about the troubles with Lady Catherine, Helena, Delia, and Roger for a few precious moments.
"Everything?" Alanna teased, "Everything happened while I was sick?"
"If you consider the arrival of Lady Alanna everything," Douglass voiced, smiling at his friend. He patted Alanna on the back as a welcome. She smiled back.
"Which he does," Raoul interjected, grinning from ear to ear, "Don't you, Alan?"
"Of course," Alanna replied, "Where's Jon?"
"Here," came a voice from behind them, "I've missed you, squire."
He ruffled her hair as he'd done so many times before but Alanna was more aware of his touch than ever before. No matter what did or, more likely, didn't happen between her and Jon, something had changed. That night at the ball, they weren't just squire and Knightmaster. They were something so much more special. And it frightened Alanna to all ends.
"I know someone who's missed you more," Gary said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, "Alanna for instance."
Alanna smiled, but it was waning. Is that all they wanted to talk about? Alanna of Conte? What about swordplay? Now that was interesting.
"Oh?" Alanna raised an eyebrow, "You've all met her, have you?"
"Yes," they all chorused together.
"And what did you think?" Alanna asked with genuine interest. Truthfully, she wanted to know what they thought about her more feminine counterpart.
"You're wrong when you said she was tolerable," Geoffery said with a frown.
Alanna tried not to look upset, more so indignant, "Yeah?"
"Don't look so offended!" Geoffery laughed, "I was going to say she isn't tolerable. She's rather pretty actually."
Her features softened, "You think so?"
Jonathan joined in, "Yes. They've been talking about your Alanna all this time. Waiting for the time when you'd awake so they could witness your magical reunion with her."
"Tis true," Gary added.
Alanna made a face. A magical reunion between Alan and Alanna? Mithros, how could they make that happen? She couldn't be at two places at once! Especially when both places required both of her to be together!
But she put on a show for her friends, "I'm sorry to say we've already met."
They all looked disappointed. Raoul piped up first, "Well, she's very nice, that one. Funny too. You've got something good with her."
"Very good," Douglass agreed, "She seems like she's able to hold intelligent conversation. Unlike most of the noble ladies here."
"Yeah?" Alanna was very flattered that they thought this of her! Even though it wasn't really her...or was it?
'This is all really confusing,' Alanna thought with dark humor.
'All these compliments are going to go to your head,' Faithful warned, rubbing his face into her shoulder. She gave him a dirty look.
Gary snorted, "Like Lady Roxanne. Dim as a wax candle."
"Lady Roxanne is actually very sweet," Alanna defended her new friend to her surprise and the surprise of all her friends.
"You really were sick, weren't you?" Geoffery questioned, eyes wide, "Because I remember very well that just last week you made a joke of her along with the rest of us."
"Opinions change," Alanna replied, briskly, trying to brush the awkward moment away, "Anyways, she's been nice to Alanna, that's all that matters to me."
The others nodded, finding these answers reasonable. They soon bored of Alanna, to the great relief of Alanna, herself, and soon moved on to chatter about their own love lives. Alanna listened raptly, now intensely more interested because she knew most of the ladies they were courting.
"And I danced with Lady Delia twice," Gary said, smugly.
"And I danced with Lady Delia twice," Raoul mimicked him, then laughed. Everyone else laughed along with him as Gary scowled.
"You're just jealous," he turned up his nose. Raoul snorted.
"Have you ever considered...any of the other ladies at court, Gary?" Alanna ventured, hoping to attract her friend's attention to another beautiful lady of court.
"Like not Delia?" Gary implored, face scrunched up in confusion.
'Idiot,' if cats could roll their eyes, that's exactly what Faithful would've done.
"Like yes," Alanna, however, was very much human so she really rolled her eyes, "I'm talking about-well you know-ladies like Cythera for instance."
She caught Raoul's eye and he said, the corners of his mouth twitching, "You've noticed it, haven't you?"
"What? You mean how she-?" she let the sentence hang.
He nodded and they both grinned. The others looked between them and Jonathan said, "What are you two talking about?"
Alanna smirked, "Nothing at all. Now, back to you, Gary. What think you of Cythera?"
"She's beautiful," Gary started, slowly, face still stupefied by the question, "And, um, I don't know much else about her."
"If you tried to learn more about her you may grow fond of her," Alanna said, thinking she could be no more obvious in her hinting.
"Even if he did, what are the chances of someone like Cythera-," Geoffery said, eyes laughing, merrily, "Growing fond of someone like my Knightmaster over here."
"Hey! Watch what you say. I can make your life very excruciating if I choose," Gary threatened.
Alanna sighed and then stopped herself short of sounding like Etta. Gary was a hopeless case. His attention could not be held for very long in one direction, especially not in his boisterous youth.
"At least you tried," Douglass whispered in her ear, "Raoul and I have been trying to get him to notice her and forget Delia for weeks."
Classes went by in the usual hum drum fashion. Alanna got extra homework in each class to make up for lessons missed because she had been away for three whole days. The only professor who looked glad to see her was Sir Myles, who went so far as to give her a brief hug before continuing on with her lesson. She even managed to squeeze in a quick swordfight with Geoffery. Though she was slightly rusty from not practicing, she still beat him with an elegant swiftness. It was in Roger's class that things really took a turn for the worse.
Douglass and Alanna went to his classroom together (Geoffery did not have the Gift). They were both flustered from a hard day's work and were pleased to have a rather relaxing and usually straightforward class right before lunch. The classroom was filled with only seven other students who had the Gift. Alanna and her friend settled into their typical seats at the back of the class. It was a good spot. One where she wouldn't draw too much of Roger's attention. Faithful slipped into her book bag to take a nap and Alanna felt all the more better knowing he was by her side even if he was in slumber.
"Today we will be talking about a very interesting spell that many a powerful mage as used to lift the dead from the grave...," Roger began.
The lesson started and continued as usual. The overall topic was very interesting but Alanna thought it was always ruined for her by Roger being the one to say it because she shot her occasional uncomfortable glares. However, many voiced an opinion on what they thought of this spell. Some thought it good if you were selective about who you raised from the dead. Some just thought it wrong because it wasn't the law of Black God for mortals to undo his work.
However normal the actual lesson went, the ending was far from 'normal.' As the bell rang for lunch, the students rushed to pour out of the room, happy for a quick break. Alanna and Douglass dawdled behind, waiting for the rest of them to leave so they could take their own sweet time. It seemed to be a bad idea because Roger noticed them.
"Alan of Trebond," he called from his place at the front of his room, at his desk, "Please stay behind a few minutes. It'll be quick I swear."
Alanna felt extremely nervous but did her best to hide it. If she learned anything, it was that revealing your true feelings to Roger was never a good idea. Douglass hesitated, wondering if he should go.
"Go on, Veldine," Roger advised, "Alan will be out with you in a matter of minutes. I won't hold him long at his lunch hour."
He smiled at Alanna but she wasn't fooled by it one bit. The Conte Duke and the Lioness both despised each other with a passion. During the Tusaine War, they had settled this mutual loathing.
After Douglass left, Alanna's nervous meter went up by a few more notches. Roger stood there, staring at her with a sneer. They both listened as Douglass' footsteps faded. When there was silence, he spoke.
"Come here, Alan," he ordered, "I must discuss a very serious matter with you."
Alanna raised a defiant eyebrow but obeyed his command. Maybe if she cooperated, he'd let her go easy.
"Sit," he gestured towards the chair across from him once she'd gotten closer.
Alanna did so and watched Roger as he clasped his hands together and placed them to his lips. He lifted them a moment later, wagging them, knowingly.
"You and I have many things in common, Alan. You do know that, don't you?" he said, eyeing his opponent.
"Yes sir," Alanna lied between her teeth. He could never have been more wrong.
"Apparently we also have the same taste in women," he continued, "You know my cousin, Alanna, do you not?"
She gulped. She wished more than ever that she could just shrivel up and fall into a black hole right now. How humiliating! How awkward! If the Black God ever wanted to take her, he could take her now!
"Yes," she answered, her voice a monotone.
"I...care for my cousin very much, squire," Roger spoke, choosing his words carefully, "Tell me now, do you or do you not have a relationship with her?"
"Define relationship, Your Grace," Alanna said, quietly, trying to evade the question.
"You know what I mean. Are you courting her or not?" Roger demanded.
"No...," Alanna trailed off. She had a feeling this would come back to bit her in the rear.
"I can tell if you're lying, Trebond," Roger told her, seriously, "So do not try it with me."
"Yes, Your Grace," Alanna answered, politely.
Roger regarded her with a snarl, "I can see you're not about to talk. You're too clever for your own good. But be sure to heed my words. If I see you with Lady Alanna again, you shall be punished for it. I carry a special affection for her and do not wish to see her hurt."
"If I may, Your Grace," Alanna interrupted, trying to turn him off Alanna of Conte, "Isn't she your cousin? And, therefore, isn't your special affection entirely inappropriate?"
Roger reddened, "There have been cases of this nature before!"
Alanna tried to stay calmeven though her heart was thundering in her chest. Apparently, she'd hit a sour spot. Had he forgotten that Winfred's daughter and himself were cousins? His marriage would never meet the King's approval, neither would it meet Lady Winfred's approval.
'And,' Alanna decided, 'If this Abigail has any sense, it won't meet her's either.'
"Of course, Your Grace," Alanna bit back, palms sweaty. Her head was starting to hurt again...
Roger glared at her. It was odd to think that only last night he had stared at her, thinking she was to be his new bride. Oh, all the difference a simple potion could make. Alanna broke his gaze, afraid that he might recognize her.
"You're dismissed," he said, finally, with a wave of his hand.
Alanna wasted no time in leaving and was out of the classroom and was on her way to the Mess Hall in a matter of seconds. She felt Faithful stir in her book bag and pulled him out. He still looked drowsy, which Alanna was thankful for. It would stop him for making any snarky comments. She brought him to her chest and cradled him there to comfort herself.
Lunch consisted solely of Alanna, Jonathan, Geoffery and Gary. Both Douglass and Raoul were away on an errand. It seemed more and more often that Raoul would rush off to help the various companies of the King's Own fight off bandits. However, each time he returned he was always very angry.
"We could've done more than we did!" he'd grumble, "It's like they only go to fight off the bandits just to show the commoners that they exist!"
Alanna agreed that it was a sorrowful thing but she didn't have much time to be aggrieved over it today because a different kind of sorrow came her way. She ate her mashed potatoes, half-heartedly, still disturbed by her conversation with Roger. The others caught on and didn't bother her much. Everyone was beginning to wear heavier clothing because the first frost had come already. Midwinter Festival was drawing ever near. Alanna sighed, wondering how good her festival experience was to be this year...would she have to masquerade as Alanna of Conte for it? She also realized that she needed to get out and buy gifts for all her friends before time ran out. And it was a good excuse to go and visit George too. She missed the King of Thieves as much as she had her other friends.
A half hour to one, lunch came to an end. Just as the pages and squires began to stand for their leave, Duke Gareth stood at his seat at the front table. He signalled with his hands for them all to pause for a minute or two. They all sat and he gave them a stern look with a faint hint of a smile.
"I have talked to the King," he began, Alanna shot a look at Jon, who looked nonchalant, "And he has informed me that for the upcoming Midwinter Festival Celebrations, we are to have a host of guests from Carthak aside from the ambassador and his wife. This is including their heir to the throne, Prince Ozorne."
A light buzz swept through the crowds of young men as everyone started to murmur at once. More Carthaks? Their heir to the throne?
"Carthaks again!" Geoffery hissed, disliking them more than ever, "Midwinter Festival is ruined!"
"As long as their Prince doesn't come to knock on my doorstep, I'm fine," Gary said, gravely, "Did you know of this Jonathan?"
The Prince in question shrugged, "Not in great detail. But I suppose I'll have to befriend this Ozorne, won't I? It'll be a worthy alliance for Tortall one day."
Geoffery snorted and Alanna posed a question, trying to brush away the sickness she felt at the thought that Jon was already thinking of the day he would rule Tortall, "Is he even remotely close to your age?"
Jon nodded, "Just two years younger."
"May I please call for silence," Duke Gareth's voice thundered throughout the room so commandingly that it shut everyone up, instantly, "Now, you must be wondering why I'm delving this information to you. Well, young men of Tortall, it has been decided that all squires will be required to attend a ball in the honor of Prince Ozorne as a sign of goodwill. The Carthaki Prince is young and wishes to find companions of his own age, not the usual older Lords and Dukes he comes across all the time. Even our pages are welcome to this ball, though it is not mandatory for them. No one need serve at this ball either since the King is hiring special servingmen and women."
Cheers went up from the hoards of pages and squires. Everyone but Alanna looked overjoyed. Gary and Geoffery nudged each other and even Jonathan leaned forward, listening more carefully.
"As another requirement, each squire is obligated to take classes in dance starting next week to the day of the ball in question so that they may participate in a performance for the entire court with Prince Ozorne. It is his wish that this happen. We are needed to please him, since he will soon be ruler of a country, neighbouring our own, one day," Duke Gareth stiffened, this prospect was obviously not to his liking, "Each squire is also required to bring an escort with them to the dance. This escort must also accompany you to your dance lessons. You have little over a week to find your escort. The young ladies of the court have been notified of this occurrence and expect your requests."
Geoffery punched Alanna's shoulder and grinned at her. She knew what he was thinking. That she would go with Alanna of Conte. She glanced at Jonathan and he held her gaze. They both knew this meant even more problems for Alanna to come. Their thoughts were interrupted by Duke Gareth once again.
"Though the Crown has stated this ball is mandatory for all squires, do not think I will accept any foolhardy behavior from any of you. Should anyone misbehave in the coming days, you will be exempted from the Midwinter Festivities," he said, looking at them all, eyes narrowed. His stare landed on his own son, even though he was not even a squire, "Now you may return to your usual classes. Good day."
He stepped out from behind his table and left he Mess Hall. Chatter erupted like lightning. There was hardly a face in the room that wasn't flushed with eagerness and excitement. Alanna closed her eyes and dared to open them again.
"This is great!" Geoffery cried, "I can't wait to talk to Yuna about this. Imagine, Carthaks actually causing something good to pass!"
"You think Delia'll go with me?" Gary ventured, eyes glazed over, "Or do you think of one these rotten squires will ask her before me?"
Alanna made a face, "I don't know. But I bet Cythera will go with you."
"Huh?" Gary broke out of his stupor, completely ignorant of what she'd just said, "So, Jon, who're you taking?"
"There's someone I want to take but they're already going with someone else," he admitted, "Maybe I'll ask your cousin, Alan. She seems nice."
"Helena?" Alanna cried out, "Nice? She's a complete terror!"
Gary's mouth was agape at her outburst. He closed it then said, "She seemed sweet at our brunch."
"What brunch?" Alanna demanded, remembering this particular brunch from yesterday. She tried to keep the envy out of her voice.
"We had a short meal with her and her mother yesterday," Jonathan was quick to explain, "They invited us so we said yes. I didn't think you'd mind."
Alanna glared at him. He didn't think she'd mind? Even after she'd confessed she hated them with a passion when she'd learned of their arrival?
"Yeah, whatever," she muttered, coldly.
"Cheer up," Geoffery said, grinning cheekily, "We've all got someone. Well, 'cept Gary. He's got no one. But who really cares about him? Aren't you happy that you get to show off Alanna to everyone whilst she's on your arm?"
"Oh huzzah," she said, sarcastically, trying not to sound bitter at the thought of Jonathan and Helena dancing together.
The evening was darkening and Alanna rode out of the palace with Moonlight trotting at a comfortable, speedy pace. Her hair whipped out behind her. Though it was not half so long as Alanna of Conte's, it still managed to flutter when it caught wind. The city of Corus was glittering down below. It felt good to be down here and away from the hubla of the palace, where the only thing on everyone's tongue was, of what some were now calling, Prince Ozorne's Great Ball.
The Dancing Dove was coming into sight, it's sign creaking against the wind that night. Alanna shivered, happily, upon viewing it and huddled into her cloak. She stored Moonlight away and went in through a side door that very few people knew about. She came out into the main room of the Dove from a dark corridor and immediately spotted a few of her closest friends there.
"Good evening Solom, Rispah," she nodded to them and Solom raised a glass of beer to her as Rispah curtsied, prettily, "Seen George?"
"Over yonder," Rispah jutted her chin towards a table at a corner, "Dealin' with some trader from up north."
Alanna bobbed her head and slinked through the rowdy crowd to the table where the Rogue sat. His brown hair was unruly and messy as usual. It was like a jungle. Alanna bet not even a comb could get through it. She wondered if her fingers could. No, probably not. But her fingers could most certainly go through her Knightmaster's straight black hair that was almost always sleek and neat. Her heart did an unsettling flip at the thought of him. She frowned, wondering if he could possibly he asking Helena to be his escort to the ball even now.
She was promptly distracted as George gave her a toothy grin that she had come to adore, "Well look who it is! Shall we talk out here or in there?"
"In there," Alanna said, knowing she had many important things to tell George that were best said in private.
"Excuse me," he told the shady looking man at the table with him, "Duty calls."
He flung a protective arm around Alanna's shoulder and she had the great urge to shrug it off. It was nerve wracking to guess what George was thinking but one guess said that it was something to do with love. She really didn't want to lead him on...
He led her to a room which was unnecessary since she'd been in here so many times that she knew how to get there all on her own. He sat in a chair at the head of an abandoned table and gestured for her to sit across from him. She did, accordingly.
"Can't say I'm not surprised t'see yeh," George commented, watching her pick at a scab by her elbow.
She left it alone and said, "Why's that?"
"Well, accordin' to me sources, yeh've got yer hands quite full up at that palace," he chuckled, "Alanna of Conte?"
"Hush," she scolded him but couldn't help but giggle, slightly, at the absurdity of it all.
"Well, Ma says she even got yeh a potion. This true?" he asked, his eyebrow raised, a grin still firmly in place.
Alanna nodded, "It's all so confusing, I know."
"Confusin'? Only that's confusin' is why yer alter ego is Alanna of Conte," he said, waiting for her to explain.
She blushed, deeply, "It was a silly mistake. It was the first name that came out of my mouth."
George looked exactly as Jonathan had looked. Disbelieving. As if he knew there was something more to the story than that. Fortunately, he, like Jonathan, didn't pursue the topic with vigour.
"So," he went on, after a while, "D'yeh need me for anythin'? Is that why yer here?"
"No," Alanna replied, caught off guard by his question, "I just came to visit."
"And...," she added, sourly, "I needed someone to talk to."
"A course yeh did," George grumbled, bitterly.
Alanna was getting impatient with his out of sorts behavior, "George Cooper! What is the matter with you?"
"Nothin'. Can't good ole George be allowed one day of misery?" he demanded, sounding upset and frustrated and all those horrible feelings. It confused Alanna.
"Yes but-," she paused, not knowing where to go. But what?
'But you're never mad!' she thought, desperately, 'But I need you right now!'
She mentally reprimanded herself for sounding so selfish. She took a deep breath and said, "Never mind the but. Why don't you tell me what's wrong for a change?"
He looked at her, looking even more annoyed that she hadn't burst with complains and whining. After a while he gave a hollow laugh. "I'll never quite understand you."
"And I'll never quite understand you," Alanna said with a small smile.
He shook his head, "Sorry 'bout that. Yeh go on. Tell me what's wrong."
Alanna took a deep breath, ready to release a string of problems, "What's not wrong? Firstly, there's this stupid ball-"
"Prince Ozorne's Great Ball," George corrected with a sly smile, "So I heard."
The Lioness rolled her eyes, "Yes, that. Well it requires that all squires take an escort with them so we can perform a group dance with Prince Ozorne and everyone expects me to take Alanna of Conte!"
Silence followed and Alanna looked at George, waiting for him to give her a miracle. Waiting for him to fix all her problems.
Instead he said, "I dun see what the problem is."
"You don't see what the problem is!" Alanna huffed, "Problem is that I can't be both people at once! I can't escort myself to the ball!"
"You dun have to," George replied, wisely, sounding too much like Lady Winfred for Alanna's liking.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she inquired, suddenly curious. George didn't just say things. He always meant something.
"It means that yeh cen go to the ball all lovely as Alanna of Conten' someone else can go as Alan of Trebond," George explained, folding his hands together smugly.
"Like who?" Alanna implored, her eyebrows flyways into her bangs at his suggestion.
"How 'bout someone that looks exactly like you?" George suggested, smiling broadly from ear to ear.
Alanna gasped, "You don't mean-Thom?"
"The one and only," George nodded, leaning back on his chair.
"He'd never agree!" Alanna argued, "He'd rather kiss a pig than be a squire even if it is for just one night!"
"You never know until you try," George pointed out, "Why don't you write to him? He owes you a few favors."
"I-I-this is preposterous!" Alanna spluttered, trying to put her words together.
George didn't seem to be listening. Instead he stood and fetched a quill and scroll from the top of a shelf nearby. Alanna was still spluttering while he was forcing the quill into her hand, "I can't ask him this! He'll blow this top! He'll-"
"Shhh," George instructed, "Write."
Still half in shock Alanna began to write her letter to Thom. She didn't know quite what to say so she had to restart her letter about four times before she wrote something she was not fully ashamed of.
Dear Thom,
I know it's been a while since I've written but what better time than the present? Truth is, I'm in trouble, Thom. It concernsour smiling friend if you catch my drift. But it isn't only him. I've been slow to tell you that Aunt Catherine and dear cousin Helena are also involved. They've come to stay at court and make my life increasingly difficult. They threaten to reveal my 'secret' to Duke Gareth and even the King himself. It nerves me to all ends. But ignoring all this, I've got a huge request to ask of you. A ball is coming up. I'm sure you know about it by now as Prince Ozorne's Great Ball. Well, you see dear brother, each squire is required to bring an escort to the ball so that we may perform a short dance to the entire court as ordained by Prince Ozorne himself. I am not to be spared this shame either. Problem is, I've gotten myself into a pickle, masquerading as my own lover! I don't quite know how to explain in such few words but I need to escort myself to the dance. To do that, I must be the lady but I still need my Alan. And...my only option is you, Thom. If you could please please please dress up as Alan of Trebond, if not for just a day, I would love you to all ends! I need you now Thom, more than I ever did. I don't know what I'll do if you don't agree to this. And you owe me anyways. What with you giving me a book for my last Midwinter Festival present and I getting you a black opal! And that time when Maude was going to-it was here George took Alanna's quill away from her and suggested she finish the letter off- anyways, as I was saying, I need you. I need my twin.
Love,
Your impatient sister, Alanna
"I'll get it to him as quickly as I can," George assured her, as Alanna went to leave that night.
"Thank you George," Alanna gave him a brief hug and pulled away because he'd sunk into it all too quickly, "Good night."
"Where did you say I was all today?" Alanna asked Lady Winfred as she lay spread-eagle on 'Alanna of Conte's' bed. She raised her head, slightly, to take a good look at her fake mother. She was sitting at a table not too far off. Alanna couldn't see her face because she was facing the window but she had a suspecting feeling that she was probably frowning.
"I said you were off to market all day," Winfred replied, her voice not giving away any clue as to how she was feeling, "No one suspected a thing."
Alanna lay her head back against the bed, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling before her. She really didn't know why she'd come here right now. Maybe it was to find out what the latest news was on her claimed engagement to Roger-maybe it was to visit Winfred, herself. Suddenly she felt stupid for coming when she wasn't needed. In fact, the one place where she was needed was probably in her own rooms, waiting for a command from her Knightmaster. The Lioness sighed and brushed her face against the velvety coverlet that was spread over the bed.
"Did you get any word from your husband?" Alanna demanded, "Any signification about this betrothal to Roger or anything?"
"I've gotten no word from any source that I can trust," was the reply, "And don't you go worrying your head about it, prettyness."
They both sounded apprehensive and neither was saying what they really wanted to.
"What word have you gotten?" Alanna questioned, coming up and resting her weight on her elbow.
Before Winfred could say anything, a knock came at the door. Without a word, the royal Aunt went to the door, her gowns rustling softly. Alanna sat up, straight, and came forward to dangle her feet over the bed. She knew she ought to hide since this could be anyone. Roger, even! And seeing Alan of Trebond here would not do, especially in way of rumors.
However, she needn't worry because it was messenger that Alanna recognized as being one of George's men. He bowed, clumsily to Lady Winfred and gave Alanna a sloppy grin.
"My lady, young master," he nodded, his voice sounding slurred with rum, "I have a letter from Lord Cobalt of Rigton and Eastern Scanra. All our men were sent as quickly as they could. The ink may even still be wet."
He held out the letter and Lady Winfred took it from him, thanking him in turn. Without even waiting for a "You're welcome," in response she shut the door in his face and went to the table to read the letter. Alanna got up from the bed and followed her there, anticipation high. Perhaps Lord Cobalt would clear everything up. Perhaps all this betrothal trash really was a rumor. Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.
Annoyingly, Winfred angled herself so that Alanna could in no way read over her shoulder or any such thing. Her eyes slid from side to side, following the progress of the letter. She tried not to give any inclination of good or bad, but by the way she bit her lip, Alanna could tell that the news was not to be too good. Lady Winfred's facehad gotten less and less expressionless and more and more fiery as she read on. When she finally looked up from the letter, her face was blazing with rage.
"I can't believe that man!" she cried out, standing up, angrily, "He actually does want our daughter to marry Roger! My Abigail can't marry her own cousin! He claims this has been in the works for months! No wonder he was so encouraging for me to come to Tortall again! He wanted to have me stay here and ship her out later on! Says she's already in southern Scanra, waiting for word for when she can visit me. Visit me, he says! He makes it to sound like a trip to her and she not knowing she may have to stay the rest of her life! Can you believe this? The nerve of that man!"
Alanna listened to her rant, her own face scrunched up in terror. Although Winfred saw it as a majorly horrible thing for her daughter, Alanna saw it more as a majorly horrible thing for herself. Abigail could escape this still-Alanna could not.
"Can't you stop him? Don't you have a say in this?" Alanna asked, her tone desperate.
"I most certainly do! Do not fret, Alanna. This discussion is far from over," Winfred huffed, face flushed, "No daughter of mine will marry within her own blood. Do you know the results of such affairs? Why, look at the Rittevon household in the Copper Isles for example! No one is going to tarnish the Conte name in this way."
"But why is he doing this? Why to his own daughter?" Alanna exclaimed, feeling frustrated.
Lady Winfred looked at Alanna and managed to flash her a sad smile, "Didn't I tell you I married him to spite my father, King Jasson, and my brother? I revelled in the fact that I had married a horrible man right under their noses. I thought I was being clever-little did I know that I was the one that was going to feel the sting of my decisions. My husband is easily entranced by wealth and power, both of which I know Roger can give him. Though why Roger wants my daughter I cannot know."
Alanna choked back her anguish, "So what're we going to do?"
As if this said it all, Winfred sat down at her desk and began scribbling away on a new sheet of parchment, furiously. Alanna faltered in her steps and plopped down on the bed, looking on helplessly. She might as well run for it now while she could. No, actually, she could stay. What else could go wrong? She had three personalities; one that was practically married to Roger, another that was being harrassed by him because he (and all her friends) thought she was in love with her other alter ego, and her last person was just confused about who she was! Jonathan was probably going to take Helena to the ball and she was probably going to be going with her own brother! That is, if Thom even agreed to get involved in all this. She fought down a half wild laugh. It seemed the only sane thing to do amongst all this insanity.
Author's Note: Deedee...I don't know what you might think of this chapter...but anyways next chapter will be much more interesting. New people will be added to the chapter and yes-fun stuff. So anyways, umm...I hope you review 'cause I love feedback.
winky-wink