Disclaimer: A few characters, major and minor are mine. Same with the plot, except the idea of Lady Catherine trying to marry Lord Alan is Tamora Pierce's. Everything else belongs to Tamora Pierce too.
Title: Ghost of the Past
Author: Winky-wink
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Rating: T (Just to be safe)
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Musical Affection: 'Sugar, We're Going Down' by Fall Out Boy.
Author's Note: Kokari: Yeah, haha, they really are.
Lutefa: That was one of my more favourite parts in this story-Thom in a dress, looking all pretty. Let's hope Alanna and Jon can convince their majesties that Helena is some kind of maniac.
Silveni: I know, it's funny and so wrong. And thanks too.
dumb and jaded: I really like this chapter too in particular. I guess chapters with balls are almost always awesome ones.
epobbp: Yes. At least I hope it is. Haha.
WitchyMage: I know. I loved that part too. And I don't think the conversatives will be happy one little bit, but that's just my opinion of course. Which actually matters in this case since I'm the one writing...anyways!...Yeah I feel bad for them too but it's funny too haha. I'm glad you like the quotes, sometimes it's hard to find ones that actually go with the chapters.
alana: Really? Well, that's great. I'm glad you liked the Thom and Alanna dancing part because I did too! And I totally get what you mean about Helena. She's that person you love to hate. I will try to fit Numair in here too 'cause he rocks. Oo...cool, name's Alana? Mine is Rae (pronounced Ray). Yuppers, and thanks for reviewing btw.
krisconuca: I have the same excited feeling with certain stories too! I'm glad you think my story actually fits in with the real story. And, wow, your compliments are crazy sweet. Thanks so so much.
Dom's Angel: Thank you!
okaliedokalie: It's cool, I don't mind. And, yup, I am fourteen. Probably one of the most immature ones I know actually, lol.
Tortall Princess: Yeah, Helena is really easy to hate. That's...the great thing about her, really, haha. I know, I loved Thom playing Alanna of Conte too! It was rather unexpected I'm sure.
loveyourhamster: Aww, I hope I did make your day! And I will try to keep my updates quick, quick. Anyways, happy holidays where ever you're going!
Padme Amidala2121: I know lol. And yes, she just had to blab because she's just that horrible. I'm glad the fluff level was under control.
FanFictionFantom: Yeah, it was a rather long wait. Haha, I actually read a fic some while back based on what would happen if someone caught Jon and Alan together and thought they were gay. But I won't focus so intensely on that 'cause I have other stuff too.
Rosemary's Granddaughter: Well, thanks. It's good to know most of the people are ok. It's sometimes difficult I guess. And glad I could get you writng. (cheesy grin) Anyways, unfortunately I can't exactly lynch Helena or Catherine yet, doesn't mean I won't think about it, Alanna knock Jon off the parapet? Interesting alternative to what I was thinking. I wonder if I'll get Thom to punch anyone at all, and who's D-whuzzawhatsit? Daine? lol...Oo but you can have Roger to grope if you want haha.
Yasthira: Thank you. I like dramatic cliffies very, very, much.
'Some people bear three kinds of trouble-the ones they've had, the ones they have, and the ones they expect to have'-H.G. Wells
"THEY'VE BEEN KIS-"
Helena's screams were cut off as Jonathan ran towards her and gripped a hand over her mouth. She struggled against him but he held her strong. The Prince turned and looked at Alanna, desperately. They had to think of a plan and fast.
"Any ideas?" he demanded, trying to keep his voice calm and failing.
"Uh...no?" Alanna blanked, feeling like an idiot. Truth be told, she was still rather phased from their kiss and her brain was having trouble getting rid of all the tingly feelings. What a nice way to show him how great you are, Alanna mentally slapped herself. One kiss and you've gone brain dead. Great warrior you'll be.
"This is worse for me, you know," he used his free hand to rub his forehead for any type of plan.
The Lioness was about to argue but then realized it was true. He was the Crown Prince. The traditionalists in the King's Council would not stand for a lover of men to become their King. And even if he did become King, this would haunt him for the rest of his reign. The Gay King, they'd call him while Alanna would just be forgotten in gossip history as the 'squire-who-kissed-the-Prince.'
"I know, I know!" Alanna hadn't wanted to panic but she was.
The increasingly growing sound of a stampede of footsteps running towards them wasn't making the situation any better. They heard the voices of anxious and curious nobles rise to an ear splitting level. Alanna stepped forward, unsure of what she should do. She glanced at Helena and saw the look of someone who had just been served sweet revenge in her expression clearly. Alanna had never hated her more.
They stood there for a few more minutes, frozen in time, until the door to the parapet burst open. Jon dropped his hand from Helena's mouth and let it hang, limply, at his side. At the front of the procession of nobles were the King, the Queen, and Duke Gareth, with concerned expressions on their faces. Lady Catherine was at Duke Gareth's elbow and pushed forth towards her daughter.
"Helena, what in the name of Mithros is going on?" she demanded.
Her daughter ran into her mother's arms like she was the victim or something. Alanna made a face and placed a cold hand on the hilt of her sword at her belt, in case she had to fight off an angry mob of nobles.
Helena pointed a distressed finger towards Jon and Alanna, fake tears slipping from her pretty grey eyes. King Roald swished past her, completely ignoring her behavior and directing a question at his son, "Jonathan, would you care to indulge us on what has passed here?"
The Prince was saved from answering by a crash not too far off and a scream of a noble lady resounding in everyone's ears. The nobles looked around, confused, as the screaming continuing. This time, yelling was tinged in too.
"Don't touch me! Get! Away!" a lady's voice cried, seemingly struggling.
Alanna stiffened for a moment, then ran out of the room, knocking nobles out of her way. She recognized the noble lady's voice and knew that it was no noble lady. It was Thom. Her heart beat quickened. If anything had happened to her brother under her watch...
'I'll never forgive myself,' she thought with finality.
As she ran, Faithful appeared by her side out of no where. It was almost like a bad play wright where the sidekick jumps out to help the hero or heroine, in this case, Alanna noted with a certain amusement.
'You were having far too much fun without me,' Faithful's voice was teasing and he leapt onto Alanna's shoulders even though she was in motion.
Duke Gareth, the King, and Jonathan chased after her, looking anxious.
"Well, if I can't say anything else about your balls, I have to say they're very dramatic," Arram Draper grinned, leading the herd of nobles as they began to pursue their leaders excitedly.
Duke Gareth, Jonathan and King Roald came up to Alanna's sides as she stood face to face with a door, ornately designed. Obviously Thom was in there, in what kind of trouble who knew? Duke Gareth tried the door. It was locked. King Roald tried his hand at barging in with his Gift, but it was already heavily guarded with another's Gift. Alanna took out the stone around her neck and noticed an orange glow all around the door. She gulped. She should've known Roger was involved in this!
"Let me at that door!" Alanna cried, shoving nobles left and right as she rushed closer to the door. The King raised an eyebrow and the Lioness added, more politely, "Your Majesty, I believe I may be able to open it."
"How is that, squire Alan?" he asked, deciding to let the young man do what he wanted since the struggled between the noble lady and her enemy could still be heard growing ever more violent.
Alanna knelt near the key hole, "I'll need a pin."
The men regarded the women with raised eyebrows. The only people in the entire palace who carried pins were the female half of the court population. The noble ladies all avoided their gazes, none of them wanting to ruin their gowns by giving up a pin. Cythera went red and cried, "Great Mother Goddess! Here, Alan, take this."
She removed a pin that had been supporting one of her sleeves and it drooped, baring her shoulder. Even in this disasterous situation, Alanna could not help but note that Gary couldn't seem to get his eyes off that fine boned shoulder and delicate pale skin that covered it.
Taking Cythera's pin, she began picking at the lock on the door. It was rather difficult to do and she definitely wasn't an expert, but George had taught her a trick or two. Within a few seconds, the lock popped open and Alanna threw the door wide, charging in. The nobles all followed, not caring to be quiet or discreet. Jonathan, keeping his gaze alert, pulled up to Alanna's side, face pale.
They both recognized the room. Alanna had been in here not too long ago when she'd fainted. These were Roger's quarters, close to the Ball Room as usual. Even King Roald noticed and exchanged weary looks with Duke Gareth. They passed the socceror's laboratories, his sitting area and his library, until they all reached the area of particular interest, Roger's bedchambers. The door was slightly ajar and everyone was suddenly eerily silent. Even Thom's screams had disappeared.
'There's fear in the air,' Faithful said to Alanna and Jonathan, whoseemed to have heard too because he looked at the cat, apprehensively.
The Lioness moved a shaky hand forward and pushed open the door. The sight she saw was not something she was expecting. Thom, dressed as Alanna of Conte, and Roger sat across from each other at the table, sipping tea. The Duke of Conte looked like he was telling a joke and as if on cue, Thom laughed.
"Alanna?" Alanna said, incredulously, "You're...alright?"
"Of course I am, Alan," Thom replied, making his voice steady. He sounded fine...but when his fake blue eyes caught her violet ones, she knew othewise.
"What was all that racket, then?" Jonathan implored, being more rude than most other nobles were allowed to be.
"I was just showing our dear cousin here a moving illusion," Roger explained, sounding almost abnormally cheery, "I'm sorry if it was too loud."
King Roald laughed and Alanna detected relief in his chuckles. He was glad that Roger had a perfectly good, albeit slightly weak, explanation about those shrieks of fright because it was easier to believe than Roger harming Thom.
Alanna was about to retort but Jonathan sensed her tensity and touched her arm and shook his head. It was a bad idea to get all huffy and angry at Roger and the King without a good reason and evidence. She resisted a sigh. Sometimes she hated the way a monarchy worked.
Lady Winfred presented herself, shaking a little bit. The nobles parted for her, looking on in awe of the way she carried herself. If they were truthful they would have to admit she was more magnificent than the Queen.
"You should've told me you left the ball," Winfred chided, acting all the good mother but Alanna knew she was worried and felt a hint of urgency, "Come now, daughter dearest, we must make our way back to our chambers. It's been a long night."
Thom didn't resist her one bit. Instead, he looked grateful that the royal Aunt was leading him away from Roger. The nobles, seeing that there was really nothing interesting going on, except for a stupid misunderstanding, pouted like children denied of candy and returned to their precious ball.
Alanna, ignoring etiquette, followed Thom and Lady Winfred out of the room, without as so much of a goodbye. Let Jon deal with the problems and questions left unanswered about what went on at the parapet. He was the one who'd started the kissing.
The Lioness took her brother's arm, gripping it tightly. None of them spoke till they reached Alanna of Conte's chambers, their faces all varying in expressions. Alanna's was nervous and concerned, Winfred's more so disturbed and Thom's was...lost and afraid.
"Help him sit," Winfred ordered Alanna after she'd shooed the maids out of the way.
Holding her twin's elbow, she eased him onto a wooden rocking chair that was cushioned by a spicy green pillow. He shuddered, putting a hand over his eyes, trying to block out the world. Winfred pushed a glass of water into Thom's hands and he drank, thankfully. After emptying the whole class, he spoke.
"Mithros, Alanna, you never told me you're engaged to Roger," he breathed, setting the glass down with a thud at the table next to him.
"I...it wasn't definite until this morning actually," Alanna explained, confused about what had happened, "What did Roger say? What did Roger do to you?"
"It doesn't matter what happened to me! I managed to defend myself, somehow...but you, you're the one I'm worried about," Thom mumbled, trailing off, "I'm afraid for you, sister, I'm afraid that you've met your match."
"My match?" Alanna blinked, not believing that his grave expression was the cause of worry for her.
"Marriage," Thom almost hissed, "You think you can take that on?"
Lady Winfred glanced at Alanna, rather curious to hear her response, but the Lioness merely said, stubbornly, "I'm never marrying so shut up about that rubbish. Now, tell me, what did Roger do?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Thom replied, grimly, taking the balls of cloth out of his chest, making it go promptly flat, "Can we do this tomorrow?"
Before Alanna had a chance to say anything, the royal Aunt answered, "Of course. You can go...turn back into yourself in that inner room over there."
Her twin gave Alanna an apologetic look for getting so distant and left to go change. The Lioness grumbled for a minute, crossing then uncrossing their arms, before saying a short and choppy 'Good night' to Lady Winfred and left the chambers. Her feet clacked on the shiny palace floors with each step she took and her heart beat at about the same rate.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
'Prince Ozorne's Great Ball' was nothing like what she'd suspected. It had been so much more-worse or better? She didn't really know. It had just been so much more than what she'd thought it would be. As she made her way back to her rooms, a second set of footsteps joined her's. Alanna glanced over her shoulder and saw Jonathan, staring at the ground, behind her. She stopped and waited for him to catch up.
"Did you talk to your father?" Alanna asked, grabbing her elbows to keep them from shaking.
Jon looked up, "Not really. He was more interested in settling everyone back down for the ball. He's still back there in the Ball Room."
"Why didn't you go back too?" Alanna inquired, shivering as deep night settled in around them.
He shrugged and they both fell into a crummy silence. Alanna glanced at him, discreetly and wondered why he wasn't saying or doing anything when he'd done a lot earlier that night. Her mouth stung even as she thought about it. She was about to raise fingers to it but decided against it. Doing that would give away her thoughts to him. She hated doing that, especially since he gave no inclination of giving away his thoughts to her.
The sound of an arrow whizzing through the air and hitting its target with a thud was almost therapeudic for Alanna. She strung her bow once again and shot once more. This time she pretended she was hitting Helena's beautiful, vain, little face. Bull's eye. The Lioness shut her eyes and breathed out. Her breath swirled up into the air. Though the day was cold, it was only out in the palace forest that she now found peace. Up at the palace, itself, everyone was talking about her, Jonathan, Thom, Roger, and Helena. As if they didn't have anything better to do.
'They don't,' Faithful purred, resting on a snowy rock.
Alanna scowled at him and strung her bow once again. This time she imagined she was hitting Roger. According to Thom, Roger had lured him back to his chambers on pretenses of showing him something of magical substance. Instead, he ended up talking about their future marriage and then had tried to get...physical to Thom's great dismay. Fortunately, nothing had serious had occured, other than Thom throwing things at him and wrestling him back a bit. When they'd heard people barging Roger's door, he'd ordered Thom to behave or else he would 'snap your dear Alan's neck in half.'
This time, Alanna came close to missing her target because she was so mad her hands were shaking. She felt horrible for Thom, but was also scared for herself. That could easily have been her and the thought of Roger taking advantage of her...it was enough to make her sick to the stomach. Thom had somehow managed to wrestle the mage off but Alanna was not her brother. She was possibly even worse atwrestling than he was. All she knew were silly tricks she'd learned from George and that didn't seem good enough.
'Who's this bow for?' Faithful asked, licking his paw, thoroughly enjoying Alanna's amusing little game.
"That prick, Jonathan," Alanna muttered in response.
He was just as bad as anyone else in her life right now. Everytime he saw her, he avoided her. And it hurt. Very badly. Alanna wasn't aware that a man could make her feel that way just because he was ignoring her. All over a stupid kiss that could easily be put behind them. She'd tell him that next time she saw him. That they could just forget that kiss, act like it never happened, and just be proper friends again.
Whizz, thud. The arrow had hit its target again. Alanna dropped her bow and sighed. She was restless. Nothing satisfied her since the ball two day's ago. As Alanna of Conte, she had to fight off rumors about her and Roger, as Alan of Trebond she had to fight off rumors about her and Jonathan or either her and herself as Alanna of Conte. She avoided all questions directed towards her and Gary and Raoul immediately quieted anyone who dared suggest Alan and Jonathan were a couple. Douglass and Geoffery, while less obvious, dismissed all rumors too.
Near her head a rock exploded and Alanna was jerked to attention. Another rock, this time actually aimed at her head exploded. She ducked and covered her head with her arms. She balled up like a porcupine and rolled away from the sudden explosive zone. The necklace from the Goddess slipped out from under her tunic and Alanna saw that all the rocks glowed black. There was a mage nearby. The Lioness leapt to her feet, pulling Lightning out of her scabbard at the same time. She stepped, carefully, her eyes shooting out in all directions with alertness.
"Relax," someone drawled, "I only threw those rocks to see if you were paying attention."
Arram Draper stepped out from inbetween two trees, wearing black, which didn't surprise her at all. His dark hair was combed, neatly, and he stood tall and handsome. He was grinning, slyly, arms tucked behind his back. Alanna lowered her sword but still kept it out.
"I recognize you," Arram pointed towards her, looking pensieve.
Alanna suddenly realized that he had befriended Alanna of Conte and hoped he wouldn't make a connection between their likenesses.
"You're that squire everyone's talking about," Arram said, then laughed, "Half the rumors say you're in love with the Prince and half say you're in love with his Scanran cousin."
Ok, so he hadn't made that particular connection. What he'd really said wasn't all that better though.
"You shouldn't believe all the rumors you hear," Alanna said, simply, putting her sword away.
"Oh, I don't," Arram answered, seriously, "You're a pretty boy but I don't think your Knightmaster mistook you for a woman."
Alanna struck her bow and this time pretended she was shooting at Lady Catherine, "Haha. You're so funny."
Arram smiled at her and brushed snow off the rock Faithful was lounging on and sat on it, "Scat kitten. Don't-Mithros-will you look at your eyes!"
After another perfect shot, Alanna turned and looked at Arram, who had picked Faithful up and was now looking into his eyes. He looked up and caught sight of Alanna's too and his own widened.
"You're one of the chosen. This cat isn't just an ordinary one," he stated, sounding in awe, "Who's your patron, though?"
For a brief moment Alanna considered arguing but just gave in. She was too tired to fight, anyway, "The Great Mother."
"Impressive," Arram noted, "You are fascinating, squire."
"I have a name in case you haven't noticed," Alanna sniffed, collecting her arrows and storing them away. She slung her bow over her shoulder and regarded the mage carefully, "It's Alan of Trebond."
"Strange, all Knights seem the same to me," Arram teased, "And, anyways, I already know your name. You're becoming known as the court queer."
The Lioness was unphased since she hadheard this new nickname for her before. She began brushing the snow off a rock near Arram's. Though he was a stranger to her, he was fun to talk to in his own way.
"I can't say that the noble gossips are wrong in calling you that," Arram smiled, "You are queer but in the fascinating way. I've heard so many things about you that I can only conclude this-you're a mystery and I plan to solve you."
"What is this? Advance notice that I'm under investigation?" Alanna snorted, rather amused, "I'm not a specimen under study, Carthak."
"Tyran," he corrected her, "And I believe you are a specimen under study. The most intricately wound one I've come across so far."
Alanna raised an eyebrow, "Solve me, you said?"
"Yes," Arram nodded, cheekily, "I'll have to do it by January fifth, though, because that's when we leave."
She couldn't help but laugh at his preposterous attitude, "I'd really like to see you try and solve me."
"I will, you know," he warned her, seriously, "Just so you know, your secret, whatever it is, will be safe with me."
He stood, slapping snow from his trousers, daintily, and gave her a bow with more elegant flourishes than she'd ever seen before. He winked at her and began the long walk through the forest and up to the palace. Alanna fluttered her lashes, glad to be distracted from her worries.
"We'll have to be careful around that one. He might actually be smart enough to figure out my secret," Alanna told Faithful, standing, herself, and drawing a arrow out of its quiver and stringing it.
'I like him,' Faithful purred, 'He petted my neglected fur-here the cat gave Alanna a hint-hint-nudge-nudge-look-and he managed to make you smile.'
The Lioness brought a gloved hand to her cheek and jabbed it, gently. Her bones were arched which meant she really was smiling. It was the first time in two days that such an occurance had passed.
Abigail of Conte sat back in her carriage, keeping her posture straight. Her dark, almost black, blue eyes stole glances out of the small curtained window. She took in her first glimpse with a certain relishing glee. Though she was half Tortallan, she'd ever been hardly anywhere near it, let alone its capital. The winters here were soft and pleasant herecompared to the harsh weather that was a part of Scanra in December.
Her heart turned over, excitedly, at the thought of seeing her mother again. She folded her hands carefully in her lap and smiled. In the last letter they'd written to each other, she'd said she had many interesting things to share with Abby once she reached the palace.
However, the trip was bittersweet. There was a good chance she would never return to Scanra again. Certainly not as a single woman. Her father, Lord Cobalt of Rigton and Eastern Scanra, planned to have her married off to her very own cousin, Roger of Conte! She scowled. She'd met Roger seven years earlier, and while he was the very definition of pleasant, he wasn't someone she could see herself loving.
The carriage bounced up and came back down as it went over a particularly large bump in the road. Abigail gripped her seat to keep from falling off it. Great Mother Goddess! The driver really ought to be more careful going over uneven roads. The real royal Niece heard the horse pulling the carriage whiney and with a few more clomps of its hooves, it stopped. The carriage swayed and ceased all movement.
At first, Abigail thought that perhaps they'd stopped because someone had gotten in the way of the carriage because that happened all too often. But when the door to the carriage was thrust open and two men, dressed in torn breeches and rather dirty tunics clambored into her carriage, she knew otherwise. This was a seige. She gasped when they entered and realized they probably didn't just want to steal her precious belongings-they probably wanted her too. The niece of the King would rack up high ransom.
"Shut that door for me, will you hawk eye?" the slightly cleaner, hazel-eyed, man requested, sitting down across from her on the carriage.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," 'hawk eye' obeyed, shutting the door like a good servant.
Your Majesty? Abigail blinked. This man was not the King. He was too young and was also obviously a commoner.
'His Majesty' made no attempt to harm her or even rob her for that matter. Instead, he gave her a lopsided smile.
" 'Lanna coulda never pull yeh off," he concluded, rubbing his chin, thoughtfully.
"Alanna?" Abigail made a face, "Who's that? And why aren't you trying to kidnap me?"
'His Majesty' burst out laughing and 'hawk eye' joined in too, though with less merriment. Abby looked between them, dumbfounded. What in the world was going on? She clutched her necklace, strung with pearls, close to her neck, feeling insecure.
"I'm not 'ere t'kidnap you, Abigail o' Conte," 'His Majesty' assured her and before she could ask him how he knew her name, he continued, "Me name's George Cooper. I'm what some like t'call the King of Thieves."
Abigail's eyes widened as she took this in. Here she was sitting across fromTortall's infamous young King of Thieves, the Rogue himself. He was possibly the most dangerous man in the kingdom, but then why did his voice make her relax? She loosened her grip on her necklace and brought her hands, politely, into her lap.
"I c'n see yer surprised," the King of Thieves smiled at her again, "But y'needn't worry. Alright, mayhaps you c'n worry a lil' bit."
"Worry about what?" she asked, boldly, not quite sure how you dealt with criminals since she didn't know very many. At least she didn't think she knew very many.
George's grin broadened, "Let me start by tellin' yeh o 'Lanna..."
Snowflakes fell softly against the tall glass windows that showed cloudy weather from high on the walls in the Entrance Hall of the palace. Lady Winfred and Alanna hung around the Great Doors, trying not to look too anxious. According to Lord Cobalt, Abigail was due to arrive on that very day. Unfortunately, neither one nor the other intelligent woman had been able to figure out a plan to avoid their problems. All Alanna had really done was mope about it to Faithful and George. Jonathan was still avoiding her at every turn. Sadly, their best idea was to wait around the Entrance Hall till she arrived and hope to...sneak her away into a room and explain the situation to her without anyone noticing...
'Like that's ever going to happen,' Alanna thought, biting her lip, watching the door.
Other nobles lounged around the room, either arriving, leaving, or bidding others farewell. Winfred was sitting at a chair that was meant more for show than for comfort, fanning herself even though the room was chilly. Alanna was dressed as Alanna of Conte for this particular day, leaving Thom to one more day of squire's duties before she returned to it full-time. She almost chuckled, thinking that if anyone came looking for the royal Niece, he could always cover for her.
"For Mithros' sake Alanna, will you stop that pacing?" Winfred frowned, her hand only a blurr as she fanned quickly, "It'll cause people to look."
"I'm worried," the Lioness confessed, standing in one place.
"There's nothing to be worried about," the royal Aunt assured her with more confidence than she really felt, "We've talked this over. Once Abby arrives, we'll escort her back to my chambers and talk to her. I've no doubt my daughter will aid us. She's a chip off the old block."
"Yes, but our plan sounds so much better in context than it does in action," Alanna protested, and silently added, 'And Abigail may be treacherous. What's to say she won't betray us to her father or worse-the King? She is half Scanran after all.'
"The more you worry, the more worse you make the situation," Winfred said in a very motherly way. It kind of almost felt nice to have someone to talk to her like that. A female in her life that she could pretend to hate, but actually admire.
The clock struck four. Bells from the temples and chapels rang throughout Corus, alerting people of the time. Winfred and Alanna looked up at the large grandfather clock in the center of the left side of the front foyer, rather startled. They had not noticed the time dwindling so. The Lioness leapt up, bringing her hands to her hips. Late afternoon, already?
"Wasn't she supposed to be here by midday?" she demanded, glancing at Lady Winfred.
"She was...," the lady trailed off, eyes glazing, "You don't think-? You don't think something happened to her?"
Alanna tried to look away but Winfred's stare held her fast. It was something unlike anything she'd ever seen before. Pure concern for someone else's well-being. Was this how all mothers felt about their daughters?
"I don't know...what could we do if she was in trouble?" Alanna posed a question she didn't really want to know an answer to.
They couldn't tell the King to send out search parties for a niece he didn't even know was coming. A niece he thought was already here.
"I have certain people I suppose could be trusted," Winfred started, slowly, seeming unsure, "But I'm not very confident with their rescuing skills."
"My friend from the city could help," Alanna suggested, deciding George would be their best bet at a time like this.
Just then Stefan, the royal hostler came through the Great Doors, dripping wet as snow melted through his clothes. His normally blonde hair was brown from the moisture. The nobles stared down their large noses at him, as if he were a thing of great dislike. He threw back his hood and noticed Alanna and Lady Winfred at a corner of the hall. He gave Alanna a swift bow and deepened it for Winfred.
"What is your name, young sir?" she asked him, looking at him past clasped hands.
"Stefan, m'lady," he nodded, politely, then turned towards Alanna, "My lady, the maid you ordered from Port Caynn has arrived."
She scrunched up her face, confused, "A maid? I don't remember ordering no m-"
The royal Aunt had risen and gripped Alanna's arm, mercilessly, "Oh, don't you darling? The maid from Port Caynn, remember?"
She said this loud enough for most of the nobles in the room to hear and though they gave no inclination, Alanna knew they'd listened in. Another maid for the royal Niece? It would be stored away for later gossip on how overly pampered she was. It took a second for the Lioness to understand that Winfred wanted her to go along with this strange charade.
"OH, yes!," Alanna clapped her hands together like she'd see many a soft-brained noble lady do before her, "My servingmaid! Goody! Let's go meet her now, shall we?"
Stefan smiled to himself and watched Lady Winfred and Alanna stroll out of the front foyer of the palace, arms linked like most other mothers and daughters. Except they were so far from most other mothers and daughters, that the scene looked almost ironic.
"I see you've learned the art of over acting," Winfred observed, a smile creeping up on her face.
"I think I was perfectly on par," Alanna sniffed, turning the knob on Alanna of Conte's door.
The royal Aunt went in before her and cried, "Abby! By the Black God, what are you wearing?"
The Lioness shut her door and watched mother and daughter reunite, harmoniously. If Lady Winfred was the female duplicate of King Roald, then Abigail was the female duplicate of Jon. When her sapphire eyes, slightly darker than Jonathan's caught her's, she could hardly tell the difference. Abigail of Conte, dressed up as a maid in a simple cotton garment in pink and white, leapt into her mother's arms like there was no tomorrow.
Alanna watched them, trying not to feel envious. It wasn't their fault she was an orphan after all. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father never loved her. None of that was their fault.
'But damn them for making me miss something I never had,' she thought, perilously.
Love just wasn't for her, she decided with a quiet sigh so as to not attract the attention of the Contes. Family love, romantic love...it was all too messy. It was simply easier to ignore all of that and just work to be a warrior maiden. A hero.
Pulling away from their intimate hug after what felt like forever to Alanna, Winfred pushed Abigail towards her. The Lioness stiffened and tried to straighten her posture. She had to look impressive in all her acting. After all, here was the young lady she had been portraying all these long weeks. Abby looked Alanna up and down, her face amused.
"You're prettier than me," she smiled, "It's not fair."
Alanna blinked. She had expected something more along the lines of 'How dare you impersonate me without my permission?' or even 'You've got something stuck inbetween your teeth.'
"Are you kidding me?" Alanna cried, before she could stop herself, "You're far better looking than me."
She cursed herself. She sounded like such a girl. A persnickety voice in her head said, 'Oh, but you are a girl.'
"I'm Abigail of Conte," the taller, dark haired girl smiled, "You must be Alanna of Trebond. George told me about you on a very...educational ride up to the palace."
"George?" Alanna blanched, "I should've known he was involved in this!"
Abigail giggled, "Yes, well, he told me everything one would want to know about the Tortallan court and even some things that one would rather not want to know. Like one Lady Yuna and her hairy legs?"
The Lioness waved her hand, grinning. She loved the way George's mind worked. He was such an annoying genuis.
"Anyways, he also included facts about all the ruckus you've been causing with my mother?" Abigail arched an eyebrow, "Really, I didn't know two women, a twin, and few nasty cousins could cause so much trouble."
"You'd be surprised," Lady Winfred said, sitting down on her bed, "Now explain that horrid servingmaid's uniform you're wearing. Since I'm sure it's not the newest fashion in Scanra, I'm guessing this is another one of Eleni's son's ideas?"
Abby nodded and came to sit beside her mother, "He's perfectly rational, you see, once you listen to him. I can act as a servingmaid while I'm here, god know's I need the work out.-she grabbed her stomach and pulled and pulled till you could see a thin flab of fat that no one would notice-And, Alanna can continue on being me. Her brother, Tim or Thom I think, can be her and you, you can keep on arguing with father till he relents this marriage business."
Winfred bit her lip and glanced at Alanna. They were both thinking the same thing. What if Cobalt never relented on this marriage business? Then Alanna would be caught either revealing her or running away. And where would that leave Abigail?
"Alright, darling," the royal Aunt told her daughter generously, "We can continue this masquerade for a little longer, I suppose. But do you really want to be a maid? We could hide you away in the city..."
"No, here's much more fun," Abby grinned, cheekily, "I always wanted to act."
She glanced at Alanna and asked, "So, has anyone suspected anything about you being me?"
"No," Alanna and Winfred chorused together. Then the Lady added, "But Alanna hasn't made very many public appearances. Really, it's been just one dinner, one sewing session, one tour, and two balls-one of which her brother played you. Most of the people she's interacted with haven't ever met you. Except Roger."
"And he's a bit curious sometimes," Alanna admitted.
"Well, you'll obviously get more invites to other such social events," Abigail's eyes gleamed as she thought of her beloved social events, "And, as me, you should be prepared for them. I could train you, you know. To be more like me, yes?"
"It could replace your lessons in ladylike behavior I suppose," Winfred consented, thoughtfully.
"Yes," Alanna promptly agreed.
Anything to override her lady lessons. And anyways, it really could come in useful. Abigail squealed with glee and jumped up from the bed and snatched up Alanna's hands into her own. She was smart, Alannadecided, but also very flaky.
"We are going to have so much fun!" she grinned, eyes laughing, delightfully.
"Erm, yeah...," Alanna agreed because it would have been rude to do otherwise.
Abigail was very much the opposite of Alanna and it would be difficult for her to become something she didn't understand. This girl liked balls, gowns, jewelry, and, occasionally, men. Alanna did not. How would she ever learn?
"Goody! We should get started right away," Abby broke away from Alanna, nodding vigourously.
'Oh huzzah,' Alanna thought, rolling her eyes, 'And Lady Winfred says I overact when playing noble ladies. This girl makes me look as if I'm not acting enough.'
Her Majesty, Lianne of Conte, Queen of Tortall
requests you, Alanna of Conte to be present at
The Queen's Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee
on the eighth day before Midwinter Festival
at the eleventh hour of the morning.
Similar invites went out to Delia of Eldorne, Helena of Galla, Yolane of Dunlath, Etta of Timberly and, Goddess Bless, even Cythera. Other noble ladies that Alanna was not acquainted with, like Nessa of Queenscove, Duke Baird's eldest daughter, and a Carthaki named Varice were also invited. According to Abigail and Winfred, these luncheons were usually very social events and invitations to these were only given out to the Queen's ladies-in-waiting and the highest elite in Tortall.
"Don't be surprised if they ask you to become a lady-in-waiting," Lady Winfred told her, "These tea parties and light lunches are often intiations."
"Mother's right," Abby bobbed her head up and down, seriously, turning into intelligent Abigail for a brief second, "Which means they'll drill you till they're satisfied. These events are to gossip about men, fashion and other women, yes, but most of all they're to solve mysteries of colleagues."
"Obviously these women consider you a mystery which ought to be solved," Winfred cut across, "They'll ask you about your family background, things you're claimed to favor over others..."
"You'll need to answer each question they ask with confidence," Abigail interjected, "Or else they'll grow suspicious. These women of the Queen's ladies are vicious. You're pretty andsmart, a possible rival, so they'll keep you close. You need to train so that you can be ready for the mind reading of your life."
Alanna looked between the two women, utterly lost. The way they made it sound, this seemed more strenuous than fighting off Roger's Gift from reading her mind. What a fun little 'Tea Party Jubilee' this was turning out to sound...
Author's Note: Ok, I'll admitt it, this is more of a filler-in chapter but I promise the next one will be more interesting. Oh and ignore the bad grammar, I was in a rush today.So sorry if you think this is a weaker addition and expect something better than this next chapter. Can't you just smell the cat fights and romance and drama to come? I can, haha.
winky-wink