Disclaimer: None of this is mine. None of the characters are mine unless I make up a few fake ones here and there like Helena. Who really is sort of like a portrait of Delia of Eldorne when you think about it...but anyways, just don't sue me.
Title: Ghost of the Past
Author: winky-wink
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Rating: T (Just to be safe)
Pairing: A/J...unless I hear great roars of disapproval.
Musical Affection: 'Bucky Done Gone' by M.I.A.
Author's Note: dumb and jaded: Thanks. Hmm...I guess she reminds me of some people at my school too.
Lutefa: I know. They're really awesome. I'm glad you're confused, it's what I try to do while writing this story. Haha.
epobbp: LOL...omg I hate that too! Especially when it happens with really great stories.
Rosemary's Granddaughter: Haha...Cheers to the most imaginative of all my reviews. Your paper doll thing is also too true lol.
kristina (krisconuca): Thanks. I'm glad you liked it. And oh, I get it. Thanks for filling me in.
WitchyMage: Yeah, I mostly did it for the dramatic cliffy, which I love. Anyways, Thom's really great in this fic and Roger is really horrible haha. And, yes, Abigail and Alanna are totallly different. The whole appearance thing is cleared up in this chapter. Anyways, thanks for liking the last chapter and letting me off the hook for my grammar mistakes.
Kokari: Wow, excited I see. Well, I hope you're pleased lol.
Silveni: What's too much? Something bad or good? I'm hoping the latter lol. Anyway, yeah, it's always good to remember the humor. OO...and it's good to hear my grammar wasn't too bad.
FanFictionFanthom: I know. What's better than those things, right?
Padme Amidala2121: Yeah, I agree. Oh and Abby is only the most interestingest of maids.
Ok, I had a minor writer's block but now I'm back and kicking...let's hope this goes over well haha.
'There was never yet an uninteresting life. Such a thing is an impossibility. Inside the dullest exterior, there is a drama, a comedy, and a tragedy'-Mark Twain
"I don't see why you wear so much pink," Alanna wrinkled her nose, going through Abigail's wardrobe.
The entire closet and all her baggage contained nothing but gowns. Now that Alanna would have to be playing Alanna of Conte almost as often as she played Alan of Trebond, her usual lady's appareil had to be increased from its current number of twelve gowns, half of which were only reasonable for balls. But she hadn't expected to be wearing only Abigail's gowns which, while nice and good for the King's niece, wasn't what the Lioness had in mind.
"It suits me, you see," Abby pulled out a particularly frilly pink dress that had a five foot long train. She held the soft cloth to her cheek and posed with it for Alanna. She was right. Pink really did suit her. It highlighted the roses in her otherwise pale cheeks and accentuated her dark-Jonathan eyes. Her black hair was beautiful too. It went with anything and everything.
'She's so much like Jon,' Alanna thought to herself, then shooed the thought away. Why was she even thinking about him when he wouldn't even look at her?
"But I can see why you don't like it. It doesn't exactly go with red hair," the royal Niece noted, reaching out and touching Alanna's short boy locks.
TheLadySquiretwitched, uncomfortably. She didn't really like people touching her. But she knew she really ought to make friends with Abigail lest she ever wish to betray Alanna to the King or Duke Gareth. The squire stood still and let Abigail scrutinize every bit of her.
"It's still really pretty though. And I love your eyes. Never seen a thing like them ever before," Abigail noted, with the deepest of interest, "You look so different as a squire than you do as a lady!"
"I do take a potion," Alanna pointed out, scuffing the floor with her shoe.
The only reason she was dressed as a squire today was to give Thom a break. He was helping her out, greatly, but she knew he longed to be among his books and scrolls and general magic once again. She didn't know how she could pull off the double act once he left. Perhaps Alanna'd keep her twin here just a little while longer...
She looked back at her 'maid.' Or at least that was what Abigail was supposed to be. Alanna of Conte's new maid. That would inable her to be on hand for almost all social occasions and thus protect Alanna from saying anything stupid or unladylike.
"And can we do this, quickly?" Alanna asked, looking at the clock on the wall, "Squire's don't exactly have long lunch breaks. And your cousin, my Knightmaster, will be needing me."
"But if you leave I'll have to clean," Abby whined, flouncing onto Alanna of Conte's bed.
"You're not a very good maid, are you?" the Lioness inquired, imperiously.
"You know as well as mother that I can't be let out of this room for long periods until that Lani-"
"Eleni," Alanna corrected.
"Yes, whatever. Until Eleni has made me a potion to alter my appearance," Abigail grumbled, "I just had to look like every other Conte in the palace."
'Consider it a blessing,' Faithful purred, speaking for the first time since they'd arrived there, 'Most of the women in the palace dream to be the likes of you.'
"I still get the creeps when I hear his voice in my head," Abigail shivered.
"Get used to it," Alanna told her, "You'll be hearing it a lot, I'm sure."
Checking the clock once again, she added, "And I better go. It's almost been a half hour since I've been here. Jonathan-"
Abby giggled, falling onto the bed, flat. Alanna glared at her, arching an eyebrow, "What's so funny?"
"I just-I've heard rumors. About you and my princely cousin. The Court Queer?" she fell back into an onslaught of laughter.
"Where'd you hear that?" Alanna demanded, going red, "I thought you weren't allowed out of this room for long periods of time?"
"I don't have to leave this room to hear gossip, prettyness," Abigail said, enjoying calling Alanna by Winfred's nickname for her.
When Alanna found Jon, he was sitting out doors, strapping his boots onto his feet. His cloak was flickered with sludge-the dirty mixture of snow and mud. Even his cheeks were affected by the horribly cold weather. They were as pink as Abigail's gowns. The Lioness approached him, cautiously. It had been a few days since she'd properly been his squire. Lately Thom had been doing more and more of her job for her. And this was the first time they would be on an actual task together post kiss. Alanna pulled up the collar of her coat around her and clung to her cloak which was over that. Today was possibly the coldest day that there had been all winter.
She came and stood before him, trying to be tall, "Hello, Jon."
His eyes flickered up to her face and for a second she saw a glimmer of emotion but it faded, quickly, and all he said was, "Hi."
Alanna looked past Jon and noticed a bunch of idiotic men of the King's Own jeering at them. She knew what they were thinking. That Jon and his squire were together. Yeah, right. And even if they had been, they wouldn't have been stupid enough to display that affection in public.
"So, what is it that we're doing today?" she implored, merely making conversation. She remembered a time when they couldn't stop making conversation. Why was her relationship with her Knightmaster-her future King, so up and down?
"Bandit hunt with the King's Own," Jon explained, all business-like.
Alanna snorted. As if the King's Own actually did anything. Jon looked at her for a moment, surprised, then smiled. He knew she was feeling ironic because the King's Own were nothing but ornaments of the Crown. She felt so much better once he'd smiled, hoping that would change the mood. While it made them both a little bit more relaxed, it still didn't make them forget the kiss they'd shared less than a week ago.
The two of them went to get their horses, standing farther apart from each other than they normally would have. Alanna hoped she'd have a brief moment apart from him whilst they saddled their respective horses, but, unfortunately, Darkness and Moonlight were stalled together.
Stefan, who was looking at the two horses and shaking his head, said, "Yeh need t'keep those two apart. Or else the male'll get the female bulgin' with child."
Jon and Alanna's eyes darted to each other, momentarily, then realizing the other person was looking, they gazed away, embarrassed. The hostler pretended not to notice this odd exchange between the two of them. Instead he patted Moonlight and helped Alanna to saddle him. Jonathan needed no help since he was rather talented at handling horses all on his own.
Once squire and Knight had their horses saddled and their fleeces wrought on, they swung onto their trusty steads and joined the King's Own at the palace gates. Lord Issac, the current Commander of the King's Own, was clad in white and looked magnificently handsome as his blonde locks of hair tufted out of his helmet.
'Too bad he isn't handsome and useful,' Alanna thought.
Issac was more famous for his tolerable intake of Whisky and Vodka than he was for his battles. Right this minute, he pulled out a pouch of alcohol and took a hearty swig from it. He wasn't the least bit phased and didn't even sway as he got on his horse, steadily.
"Men Of Tortall, my Own, the Own. This afternoon, we ride. This evening, we return with the heads of our kingdom's bandits on pikes!" Lord Issac roared, rallying his men together.
And what a rally it was. The King's Own cheered and shook their swords, wildly. Another thing Lord Issac was famous for: melodramatic fight speeches. Alanna glanced at Jonathan and he was wearing the same expression she was. A sort of weary amusement. A Knight nearby raised the flag of Tortall, a silver crown with a silver sword on a royal blue background.
"For the Glory of Tortall!" Issac cried, beginning his ride into the outskirts of Corus.
The Knights of the Own screeched the same. Alanna felt a sudden flow of nationlism and couldn't help but shout out a bit as well. Jon grabbed the reigns of her horse to stop her from charging forward. She glared at him, wanting to race the way the other men were.
"It's going to be a long ride," he explained, "You wouldn't want to tire Moonlight out after the first few miles like Issac's horse will surely be."
Alanna blinked and realized he was right and that Lord Issac was an idiot.
Just as Jonathan had predicted, it wasn't long before the Own and their horses needed a break from riding. Alanna tied up Moonlight and Darkness, shaking her head. It was silly mistakes like this one that shamed the King's Own. They had no sense of stragedy, rationality or chivalry, yet they claimed to be the most honorable group of Knights in Tortall.
Some of the Knights there had already cracked open their rations and began eating what was supposed to be their dinner even though it was only about two hours past noon. Alanna sat next to the only other person who wasn't eating. Jon. He held a stick in his hand and was scribbling patterns in the light frosty dirt. They were the only quiet ones among the noise and grobble of the other Knights. They smacked their lips and chatted as if on a pleasure trip. Any bandits within vicinity would immediately be alerted of their presence.
They had just reached the countryside that loomed around Corus. It was a rocky terrain and made even more dangerous by the layer of ice coating everything. Even so, many of the younger Knights were partaking in snowballs fights.
"Your Highness! By my side the whole day and you've not spoken a word to me," Lord Issac said, resting on the rotting log that Jon and Alann were at, "Don't tell me I'm out of favor with the royals."
Jon smiled and Alanna suspected it was a fake one, "Of course not Lord Issac. I'm just tired is all."
"Why don't you eat like the rest of my men? That'll warrant you your strength," the Commander of the King's Own suggested.
"I'm not hungry," Jon shrugged, then turned to his squire, "Are you?"
The Lioness shook her red head and attracted Issac's attention. He looked her over as if he'd only just realized she was sitting there, naught but four feet away. She was comically short but her sharp chin and determined eyes would give her away to any warrior as one of them.
"This must be your famous squire," Issac smiled, handsomely, "Your smaller than I would've expected. But that's no matter, I heard you've got magic with a sword."
"I wouldn't say magic, my Lord," Alanna replied, politely as she was required to do so.
"Have you ever thought of joining the King's Own?" Lord Issac questioned, still smiling as if he were some King, "We could use more of your sort."
"I'll think on it," she lied.
Never ever would she want to be a part of a lazy group of noble men that liked to think themselves Knights. However, in a second her mind was paralysed of all cynical and intelligent thought as Jonathan's arm brushed against her own. She shivered, involuntarily, and then blushed. She was sure he'd felt her reaction because he shifted away, slightly.
"My Lord! My Lord!" a cry came from a Knight among many.
A middle-aged Knight with uneven skin and dishwater blonde hair was the one screaming. At his right side he was supporting one of his dark-haired companions, who's right shoulder was bloodied. Obviously, the dark-haired Knight had been attacked. He was grimacing in pain and the blood from his shoulder pulsed down his whole arm. The other Knights looked on in shock. One of their own...hurt?
Jonathan stood up and Alanna followed suit. Lord Issac did the same and walked over to the two Knights, regarding them with a look of quaint surprise. Quaint Surprise?
"Someone get this man to a healer," Issac ordered, looking round at his other men.
They, however, stayed far away from the injured Knight as if he were a leper or something. A bold one shouted, "We haven't got a healer! You ordered them to be left behind 'cause you said we wouldn't be needing them!"
Issac's face went red, momentarily, then he said, "All is not lost. Someone must ride with our hurt friend to the closest healer in Corus."
Their 'hurt friend' moaned. It was apparent that he couldn't ride with his shoulder wounded as it was. Alanna couldn't believe this. They hadn't even brought a single healer along? What happened when the battle struck and began?
'They don't battle,' she reminded herself, 'They're not Knights. They're just really good actors.'
No one moved to help the fallen Knight, whose friend had lowered him onto a rock. Jonathan stepped forward and Alanna stared at him, wondering where he learned to walk like that. Walk like a King.
"This man cannot ride," Jonathan said to Issac, "It would be foolish to make him. He needs a healer and now. If you can't get one to him soon, I don't see much of his chances of survival."
"I'll heal him," Alanna declared, the words slipping out of her mouth before she could stop them.
She instantly scolded herself for saying so. Healing meant using her Gift. She hated that. But she couldn't just let this man die. The Lioness regained some of her stature as she remembered her old friend Francis, who had died of the Sweating Sickness because Alanna couldn't bring herself to use her Gift. She was not going to repeat that occurance.
"What know you of healing?" the dishwater blonde demanded, "You're just a squire."
"If you're forgetting, Alan cured me of the Sweating Sickness," Jonathan retorted, frostily.
The dishwater blonde shut up and bowed his head. Alanna shot Jonathan a look of gratitude before going to check out the dark haired Knight. The wound was worse than it seemed. Part of his collarbone jutted out, gleaming white. She flinched at the blood. Mithros, after she healed the poor soul she was going to a private bush and throwing up.
Bringing her hands over the wound, she struggled to concentrate solely on her patient. It was easier said than done since she had more things on her mind than an average healer would've. Multiple identities. An eccentric servingmaid. A failed romance with her own Knightmaster. A crazy and vengeful Aunt and cousin. An eternal enemy who wanted to marry her and kill her.
'Yeah, I think I'm good filled with my share of problems,' she thought, snarkily.
The injured Knight gave another moan of pain and Alanna instantly bashed away all other thoughts. Staring at his bleeding wound, unblinkingly, she began accumulating her Gift to her finger tips. From there, it flowed freely to the injured Knight. He absorbed the healing and she saw it begin to stitch him up. After a minute, the bleeding stopped. The Lioness ceased the flow of magic and began to do things the mortal way.
As she began to rip a cloth and bound it over the wound, she heard Jonathan and Issac consulting the dishwater blonde.
"Jerrold and I went to gather wood for our fire, my Lord, Your Highness," he explained, clasping his hands together and trembling.
"Start a fire? Don't you think the bandits would've caught onto our scent and fled?" Jon demanded, looking disapproving.
The dishwater blonde glanced at Issac only for a second before saying, "We do it all the time, my Prince."
Alanna noticed Lord Issac blush, but only a little bit. With regained composure he asked, coldly, "Then what happened, Knight?"
"The bandits were lurkin' about. Obviously knew we were here. Once they saw Jerrold and me, they attacked," the Knight flinched, remembering the unpleasant memory, "It was only by chance that we managed to escape."
"Where did the bandits go?" Jonathan questioned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Rode off for Corus or the village yonder, I wager," the dishwater blonde nodded, vigorously.
The Lioness tied up Jerrold's bandage and patted it, gently. His moaning had stopped and he looked at her gratefully. It hadn't been a very draining task. Once she'd set about it, he'd healed almost abnormally fast. She sensed all the other Knights were listening in on the conversation of their leaders, intently.
"Alas, this means we shall not be able to capture them today," Issac sighed, trying to fake being disappointed, "But do not fret men, we have chased them out of these parts for a while yet I gander."
Jonathan looked indignant and even Alanna was so bold as to jump to her feet in anger. He was telling them to pack up and go home now? When they hadn't even done anything?
"My Lord, we are not returning home," Jonathan held up a hand and his squire came to his shoulder, nodding along, "We are going to send half our troops off to Corus and other half off to the nearest village. These bandits are not so far off that we cannot catch them yet. Do I make myself clear?"
"Your Highness, I understand your worry for your people but-" Issac started, arguing.
"I believe my Knightmaster has made himself clear," Alanna interrupted him, speaking out of her station.
Jon frowned at her and blocked her away from Lord Issac's view. It annoyed her to all ends. The Prince glanced back at the Commander of the King's Own, knowing he outranked his opponent and therefore his word was law. Issac merely grunted, displeased.
"Sergeants Fireth and Michael, you ride with Lord Issac to the nearest village to scour for the bandits. Dumas and Quinn, you're with me. We head to the outer range of Corus. Is that all understood?" Jon ordered and the men could not do a thing but obey.
His prescence was breathtaking. He was confident, not arrogant, though if he got this sort of behavior and obedienceall the time he would become so. Roger should just get over it-and secretly, Alanna should too-Jon was born to be a King.
He headed over to Darkness, untying her. Alanna came to his side, working on Moonlight.
"Alan," he began, not daring to look at her, "You're not coming with me."
She snapped her head up so fast that her neck cracked, making a loud pop. They both flinched at the sound. Alanna recovered first and said, "What?"
"You're going with Lord Issac," Jonathan clarified for her.
She was stupefied. So now he didn't even want to ride with her? "I thought you were my Knightmaster, not Lord Issac."
"The rocky terrain around Corus is dangerous, particularly in the winter," he continued, "I've had experience with it in my days as a squire. You have not. You're much better off riding on the road to the village. It's safer."
She glared at him, "Safer? Don't feed me that trash."
Alanna knew the only reason he was making up excuses was because he really didn't want to ride with her and it hurt. She tried to act nonchalant but couldn't help herself. She was never one to conceal her feelings from anyone, whatever it may be. Anger in particular was a hard one to keep hidden for her.
"It's not trash, it's true. I'd feel better knowing you're safe," Jonathan tried one last time to convince her.
In retaliation she mounted Moonlight and went to stand with the men who were going to ride out to the borders of Corus. Her Knightmaster sighed and clambored onto his own horse. Darkness flicked his black mane and just as Jon was about to ride off with his men, Issac held onto his reins.
"You can't go. You'll surely get hurt. The King will kill me if I let you go," Issac held him back, trying to be reasonable but just sounding cowardly.
"And I'll kill you if you don't let me go," the Prince replied and to show he meant it, he grabbed hold of his sword hilt.
Lord Issac pulled his hand away as if it had just been burned. Shaking his head at the Prince's retreating back, he pulled out his drinking pouch and took a good long swig of Whisky.
The men of the King's Own had quieted down, considerably. Their faces were grave and pale. With Issac, they knew they wouldn't befall to harm and pain. But with Prince Jonathan and his crazy squire, who knew what to suspect? Each Knight thought himself dead already.
Speaking of the crazy squire, she rode at the front of the proccession, a few horses apart from her Knightmaster. See if she ever even exchanged pleasantries with him after he tried to get her to be docile and safe.
'I'm not some noble lady that follows all he wills,' she thought, nose upturned.
But really, all she felt was awful. Alanna hated to fight with those close to her. It always made situations awkward. She was quick to anger yes, but she hated to be angry actually. She looked down the line at Jon, who was talking, softly, to the Knight beside him.
They had been travelling for the countryside for about a quarter of an hour. Occasionally their horses would slip under the snow and they'd have to stop. Luckily for Alanna, Moonlight was steady on her feet. The Lioness had only just stroked her mare's mane, softly, and nuzzled her nose into her neck when an arrow came whizzing through the air. It missed Jon's head by mere inches. Alanna swore it's feathery fletching had actually skimmed the tip of his nose.
Bandits jumped out from both sides, their numbers equal to the Own's. Swords were pulled out and soon the clanging of metal against metal was resounding throughout the woods. Not trusting any men of the Own, Alanna rushed through the crowd to protect Jon. He was the Crown Prince and if he was lost, so was Tortall.
Covering his back, she began fighting a burly haired bandit with an ragged patch over his left eye. At first, he seemed untrained with his sword, but as the battle wore on, Alanna realized his skill grew. Soon, he was almost unnaturally good. Even Alex of Tirragen could not have beat this simple commoner. For the first time in a while, she felt herself struggling to defeat an adversary.
Eventually her training won through and she slashed his chest. A welt of blood began overflowing. It probably wouldn't kill him, but he couldn't battle anymore. Not having the heart to kill him, she just stood over him over a moment, feeling sick. Just as she was about to turn away, she noticed something strange. At the inner nape of his neck of his tunic-the Conte emblem. Alanna recognized it, immediately, because she wore the same emblem on almost all her clothes since she had been dubbed Jonathan's squire.
Getting more suspicious by the second, she pulled out her necklace. Just as she'd expected, most of the bandits had an orange glow surrounding them. And those who didn't acquired them, just as they were about to lose a duel.
Whirling around, Alanna sliced away, viciously at Jon's opponent. The bandit fell to the ground, wriggling. Alanna tried not to feel guilty but did, especially when Jonathan gave her a surprised stare. She ignored it and tugged on his arm, wanting to lead him away from the fighting. This was obviously an assassination attempt and she knew that bandits probably weren't the only trick that Roger would have up his sleeve.
She noticed it when the men of the King's Own began to glow orange too. They stopped fighting the bandits and dueled their own companions. Somehow the Duke of Conte had managed to reach his Gift over to their friends and convert them to his own greedy ends.
Still on their horses, Jonathan didn't appreciate being led away from the battle so he hissed, "Where are you taking me? Our men are still out there."
"Those aren't our men," Alanna explained, irritated that he thought she was taking him away for silly reasons, "They've got Roger's orange glow about them. They're treacherous."
'I bet Jerrold and that dishwater blonde were both traitors too. Their escape from the bandits was just too convenient. And Jerrold healed too quickly. I should've checked them for Roger's Gift with the necklace,' she thought, upset with herself and her carelessness.
"What? You're back to conspirating about Roger again?" the Prince demanded. Even though Alanna had tried to explain Roger's mutiny to him, he could still not bring himself to believe it. He loved his cousin.
"I can't believe you're asking me that!" Alanna made a face, "Listen, do you want to argue with me and get yourself killed or live and enjoy dinner back at the palace?"
Fortunately, the group of the Own and bandits combined, didn't notice the pair sneaking off. Moving off the rocky hill and coming out to flatter land, they kicked their mounts to a gallop and began to ride off to Corus. Jonathan slapped a hand to his forehead, murmuring to himself. Alanna caught brief fragments which she understood like, 'I can't believe I lost a company of the King's Own' and 'What will father say?'
She almost felt bad for him. Almost. But then she'd remember how he'd been ignoring her all this time and feel rather cheery at his worry. After a two mile ride, Darkness and Moonlight slowed to a comfortable trot. Alanna lost fear of Roger's bandits jumping out and attacking them. Instead, she began more apprehensive of her Knightmaster's behavior and despaired that they'd never be normal best friends again.
She shivered and he turned to her, "Cold?"
Alanna shrugged, trying to seem platonic about the fact that he'd actually talked to her, "Just a bit."
He took off his cloak and threw it to her. She caught itjust as Moonlight joustled her. The Lioness wouldn't have accepted his generous offer to wear his cloak if she hadn't been sovery cold. Wrapping it around herself, she realized it smelled like him. Like Jon. It was a nice smell that she couldn't really compare anything to. Other than him. It was clean, not strongly perfumed like one would've expected of a Prince.
Another quiet fell over them and it made Alanna more concerned than ever. Maybe it was his scent so strong against her skin or maybe it was just that she was bored and wanted conversation, but something made her speak.
"Jonathan," she said, loudly more to the air than to him.
He moved his head in her direction, "Uh huh?"
Instead of saying what she really wanted, she ended up saying, "Look, I can see Corus."
It was true. The city and the palace were clearly visible, not too far off. Once within the city gates, she would feel a much stronger sense of security. Jon smiled and bobbed his head. It was a polite gesture, not neccessarily an interested one.
The sun was setting and the sky was colored all shades of lavender, orange, yellow and rose. It was such a romantic setting that it pushed Alanna to tell him what she was really feeling.
"Actually," Alanna went on, "That's not really what I wanted to say."
"No?" he looked at the city, his voice that of mock-surprise.
"No. What I really wanted to talk to you about was the ball...," she trailed off and stopped as she watched him stiffen.
Apparently, against the popular belief of her imagination, he had not forgotten what had happened at the ball. More than put her off, it actually encouraged her to go on. Might as well get this over with, right?
"I just wanted to say, about the thing that happened near the end...I just wanted to say I don't want that to ruin our friendship," she fumbled over her own words, "I don't want it to do what it's been doing to us."
He finally looked at her, eye for eye, "What is it doing to us, exactly?"
"Well, you know. We haven't been talking. I know you're avoiding me. I just don't know why. I don't care about a silly kiss, Jon. It's a rather stupid thing to silently fight about," Alanna heaved all their anguish off her chest.
"I don't think it's silly or stupid," Jon responded, icily.
She groaned in frustration, "Can't we just forget all this? I promise that you don't have to worry about me getting all...feminine on you. I won't cry or anything. I'll just...forget, I swear."
"What if I don't want to forget?" he inquired, kicking Darkness forward and charging off into Corus, leaving Alanna rather shocked.
"You look just darling!" Abby cried, clapping her hands together, "But- why the grim face?"
The Lioness glared at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a bronzed gown, embroided with a lighter shade of brown. The overall effect was rather pretty, especially with her brown red hair, which was nicely curled. However, her scowl ruined her features. She kept replaying last afternoon's discussion with Jonathan again and again.
'Can we just forget all this? I promise that you don't have to worry about me getting all...feminine on you. I won't cry or anything. I'll just...forget, I swear.'
'What if I don't want to forget?'
The worse part was the realization that dawned on her, afterwards. The atrocious fact that she didn't want to forget either.
For Abigail, Winfred and Thom's sake, Alanna forced a mechanical smile onto her face. Reflected in the mirror, she caught Thom's violet eyes and knew that he suspected something was up. Winfred also had an inkling but ignored it since she needed to drill Alanna last minute on her Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee behavior.
"What are the name of your grandfathers?" the royal Aunt demanded, fluttering around Alanna, as Abigail brushed on the last bit of rouge.
"King Jasson, may his soul rest in peace, and Lord Alykhan of Eastern Scanra," Alanna said, her voice a monotone. She noticed Thom mouthing the names along with her. She'd practiced them so many times even he had memorized them.
"What's my favorite color?" the royal Niece interjected.
Alanna rolled her eyes, "Royal blue."
"My favorite playwright?"
"Janey, Warrior Princess of Thyre."
"My favorite season?"
"Autumn."
"My favorite-"
"Enough about you, dear," Lady Winfred cut through, "Now, what do you say when Queen Lianne asks you to be one of her ladies-in-waiting?"
"I accept with the humblest of grateful affection," Alanna repeated what she'd been taught then added, "Do I really have to join? It seems so idiotic."
"Of course you have to join!" Abigail cried, "I would be shamed if you didn't. And, anyways, no one says no to Queen Lianne. Half the noble ladies here would give their heads to be in your place."
"Somehow that doesn't make me feel any better," Alanna grumbled, linking her arms over her stomach to stop it from getting queasy.
When Alanna got to the Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee, most of the other ladies were just arriving as well. She noticed Delia and Helena sitting together, looking like two peas in a pod, because they both wore gowns in a similar lilac. Yolane of Dunlath sat near them, longing to grow into her beauty and look as pretty as they did. The Lioness noted that she needn't fret. In a few years, Yolane would surpass Delia for beauty. Etta of Timberly sat beside her friend and just as Alanna entered, she sighed dramatically. Finally linking off the circular table were Varice, a delicately pretty Carthaki, who looked as if she had some Northerner blood in her, Cythera, who was stunning as usual and lastly, Nessa of Queenscove, Duke Baird's eldest daughter.
Alanna sat down inbetween Cythera and Nessa and looked at the table before her in amazement. Even though it was clearly winter outside, the table was set with fresh looking flowers of all sorts. Jasmines, lilies of the valley, and roses mingled together to create beautiful visions and scents. Also, someone had laid out neat hand cut sandwiches, exotic fruits, sprinkled cookies, rich cakes, and about ten types of tea for consumption. The Lioness was shocked to find no one eating. No wonder these ladies were stick thin, they had miraculous will power! Struggling to follow their example, Alanna squeezed her hands together to stop from having to eat. She had to wait for the Queen to arrive at least.
"May I introduce you to Nessa, Alanna?" Cythera acquainted them.
Nessa was a tall, lanky girl with heart-warmingly green eyes. She wasn't gorgeous but that wasn't to say she didn't look nice. And anything she missed in looks, she made up for in personality. Not only was she funny, she was gently kind.
"My father talked of your Alan to me before, said he was a wonderful healer," Nessa said and Alanna couldn't help but be flattered that Duke Baird had called her a good healer.
"Your Alan is a Queer," Delia laughed, throwing her head back, "I should've known he liked men. Never danced with anyone at balls."
"Perhaps he never danced with anyone at balls because the only ladies avalaible to him were sluts," Alanna snapped back, feeling her face grow hot.
"Only slut here is you," Helena retorted, twirling her pale brown hair, "How many men are you rumored to be with? Sirs Gary, Raoul, Geoffery, Alan, Douglass and, oh, even the Prince himself."
"You're stupid if you believe those rumors," Nessa fanned herself, standing up for Alanna.
"Oh, of course, that's right," Helena said, acting oblivious, "You haven't been with the Prince, because the only one he's been with is me."
The fake royal Niece leapt to her feet so fast that her chair fell over in the process. Alanna reached at her side for a sword that wasn't there. She had almost forgotten she wasn't a squire right now. Making the situation even worse, the Queen chose right then to make her entrance.
"My dear niece, what're you up to?" Queen Lianne inquired, arching an eyebrow. Alanna blushed and all the others laughed, excluding Cythera and Nessa.
"Nothing," Alanna mumbled, lowering herself back into her chair.
The Queen regarded her for a second more before turning back to the other ladies and greeting everyone, "Welcome, young ladies of Tortall, to my personal Luncheon and Tea Party Jubilee. Some of you-here she nodded towards Delia, Cythera, Nessa, Etta and Yolane-are already part of my ladies-in-waiting. Others-she looked to Helena and Alanna-will be asked to be part of my ladies-in-waiting. And one of you-she smiled at Varice-have been invited today to experience some of our Tortallan traditions."
Lianne lowered herself into a chair beside Helena and Yolane. Instantly, the Gallan began chatting the Queen up as if she considered them to be mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. Alanna strained to hear the conversation they were having but all she caught was, 'Funny' and 'So adorable' followed by 'Jonathan' about ten times. She clenched her napkin.
When Helena paused for a breath, Queen Lianne addressed the greater audience, "Why don't we begin by getting to know each other a little better? How about we go round the table and introduce ourselves?"
That stupid Gallan, Helena, went first, "I am Helena of Galla and I've been visiting Tortall for a good two months."
"You're Squire Alan's cousin, are you not?" the Queen questioned and Alanna perked up her ears at her name, "He's quite charming, though most say he's broody."
Helena's face fell at her cousin's name but she recovered fast.
"Yes, he's wonderful," she said as if it were acid on her tongue.
Next came Delia, then Etta, who sighed dramatically between her name and her home fief, then Yolane, Nessa, Cythera, and Varice.
"I am Varice of Carthak," she said, timidly.
"You are a close friend of Prince Ozorne and his mage friend, Arram Draper," Lianne noted. The only thing Alanna noted was how Varice blushed when Arram's name was mentioned.
Finally, it was her turn to introduce herself, "My name is Alan-"
Helena giggled and Alanna paused to frown at her before continuing, "Alanna of Conte."
Helena giggled again, this time amusing Delia so much that even she joined in. Queen Lianne plastered a vague smile on her face, "Shall we commence our meal?"
Alanna's voice broke over the Queen's own, "What's so funny?"
The two wenches stopped laughing and Helena said, "Nothing" in the most annoying way possible. Alanna's eyebrows flew away into her hair.
"Tell me, what's so funny about what I just said?" Alanna persisted, making the other ladies get nervous. They didn't like watching their own bickering with each other so openly. Would they do so in front of Her Majesty, the Queen?
"It's not you, darling," Helena waved her hand, "It's Jonathan. I'm just remembered something funny he told me yesterday."
The same yesterday he told Alanna that he didn't want to forget that he'd kissed her? She stiffened, "Is he all you can talk about?"
She knew it was a most disrespectful thing to say about the Crown Prince, particularly in front of his mother but she couldn't help herself. All she usually heard in recent days were many rumors about the blooming romance of Helena and Jonathan. And, though she'd rather jab nails into her eyes than admit it, she was rather envious.
"Why should I? Unless your jealous?" Helena demanded, boldly.
Everyone raised their eyebrows, even the Queen was shocked. Alanna closed her open mouth, then snapped, "Jealous? What's there to be jealous about? There's nothing but lust between you and my cousin."
"That's better than what you and Alan share," Delia joined in the argument, making everyone turn their heads towards her, "You must not even have lust since all he lusts after are men. Unless, of course, you are a man."
Alanna froze. How much did Delia know? Did she know Alanna was a part-time squire? Brushing off the thought in rage, she snarled, "I'm no more a man than you are a woman."
"And Alan's nice," Cythera added in his defense.
"Will you shut up 'thera?" Delia snapped.
"No," Cythera jerked out her chin, defiantly.
"Huh?" Delia looked surprised and confused, "What did you say?"
"I said no," Cythera crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm not your servingmaid. I don't have to do everything you say."
Lianne seemed to have broken out of her momentary trance because she said, "Ladies, let's just-"
"You do whatever Gary says," Delia smirked, "Like at the last ball after-"
"Delia!" Cythera shrieked, her eyes darting over to the Queen and back, face redder than a tomato after the harvest, "I told you that in confidence!"
"Oh, just stop arguing!" Helena cried, shutting them both up, "Can't you see that you're all seething because of Alanna? She's a troublemaker."
"Better a troublemaker than a whore," Alanna practically spat out the words. Calling Helena a whore was possibly better than even kissing Jonathan.
For a second Helena seemed to have mixed up Alanna of Conte and Alanna of Trebond because she said, "At least I'm no wretched orphan."
"Of course!" Alanna spluttered, "But I'm not the daughter of a gold digging tramp that killed her last two husbands either!"
Gasps were sounding throughout the table. Even Delia, for all her talk, was shocked. But no one was as awestruck as Helena. She blinked, as if seeing Alanna in a newer, darker, and more interesting light. Never did she think her younger cousin would have the nerve to say that.
Glancing upon her once more she said, "Today, you die."
Helena lunged across the table, knocking aside a triple layer vanilla cream cake and peanut butter cookies in the shape of hearts, frosted in pink icing. Queen Lianne jumped back from the table, just avoiding being burned by mint tea. Yolane was not so lucky. Orange tea poured into her lap, burning her thighs. She stood with a yelp, bumping the table with her funnybone.
Alanna, replacing her usual sword, with a cupcake, threw it at Helena in hopes of holding her back. It hit Etta instead, which Alanna decided, wasn't a very bad mistake. Furious and sighing dramatically, Etta grabbed a hunk of dark forest chocolate cake with her own bare hands, making pieces of it dig into her polished nails. She smacked it towards Alanna, who dodged it. The cake met instead with Cythera's pretty face. She squealed and wiped cream from her eyes. She tossed a cookie, that hit Delia's head. The Eldorne girl instantly reacted, picking up a picnic sandwich and whirling it forward. It knocked into the side of Varice's head. The poor Carthak whimpered and lowered herself under the table.
No one even noticed this abolition of a guest because Alanna and Helena had fallen into a pile of cake on the ground. They were rolling around, manically, fighting each other. The other girls didn't even know who was who in the blur of long hair, silk gowns and diamond jewelry.
Alanna definitely knew who was who. Currently Alanna was the who pulling hair and Helena was who having her hair pulled. A satisfying scream told her that Helena was hurting. The Gallan blinked away tears and bit into her cousin's left hand that was pinching her cheek. Alanna cried out and removed her hand. Taking up the opportunity, Helena pushed away her opponent and stood up, wearily. Alanna looked up at her, getting up, knowing she was not fairing well in this wrestling match. Her hair was sticky from icing and even her eyelashes were thick with cream. Her gown's sleeve was mutilated and her lip was bleeding.
Helena looked no better. Her hair was just as sticky and the back of her gown was torn off. Her arms and legs were covered in the ferocious scratch marks of the Lioness. She pulled back her fist, happy to be able to blacken the eye of her cousin. Thrusting it forward, she watched in horror as Alanna ducked down at the last minute, almost grinning at what was to come. Helena tried to stop her punch but it still hit Queen Lianne squarely in her left eye.
"Great Mother Goddess!" Lianne of Conte cried out, clutching her eye.
Helena squealed, horrified. Alanna stopped mid-smile, suddenly not amused. No one was. They all looked a mess and Varice, the Carthaki was weeping in a corner, obviously frightened by the horrible manners of the foreigners.
Pulling her hand away from her already puffy eye which looked like it was going to swell to the size of a peach, Queen Lianne glaread at them all. For a second Alanna was afraid she would yell. And guess what? She did.
"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, ALL OF YOU!" she screeched, her voice ear-splitting.
Before anyone could say Conte, the room was empty of all young ladies. No one dared disobey the Queen of Tortall.
Author's Note: This is not a dramatic thing. It's funny. Or at least it's supposed to be, so don't worry about anybody too much. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and review if you're awesome 'cause I would appreciate it.
winky-wink