Disclaimer: Ok...plot and a few characters are mine. But the overall universe is unfortunately not mine, but Tamora Pierce's.
Title: Ghost of the Past
Author: winky-wink
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Rating: T (Just to be safe)
Pairing: A/J...it fits with the time setting.
Musical Affection: 'Bang Bang' by Nancy Sinatra.
Author's Note: iluvsinging333: Totally haha.
epobbp: I know. I love it too. I may not be stupid, but you're definitely smart.
Lady Knight: Thanks. It shall be interesting.
charlie and lola: The 'Xa' is because that is Abigail's new allias. Oh and he recognized her because I added in that she took sips from her vial, remember? It's in there. And will Alanna be revealed? Well, you'll just have to wait and see. ((evil snickers))
eridani: Haha, wow. Same thing happens to be with some stories. I know, my mind is pretty crazy lol. Thank you, thank you for everything you said. I'm glad you said it has a good balance. All the things you complimented, it's really what I like to hear. Thanks once again.
Silveni: LOL, yeah I'll look into that...ahah...yes, it can only end in the worst possible way.
Confusedknight: I know! I must be crazy to put in another character, right? Lol...yeah I'm glad you liked it so much. It's supposed to be enjoyed like that haha. The conclusion will be...very interesting to say the least.
lutefa: Haha, fascinating. Ah, tornado warning! I would be freaking out lol. And, yeah, Roger could figure it out. Scary. oO
Saphron: More Jon fluff? It'll come, I promise...eventually lol. I'll fit it in somewhere.
WitchyMage: Haha, and I love you for reviewing, thanks! It gets me all excited when people actually like what I write.
Queen Alanna: What he was going to tell her will come soon. More Jon fluff soon, I swear. A sequel? I don't know. I would really have to think about it. And thanks so much for that last compliment!
Kokari: Lol...ok here you go.
FanFictionFanthom: Haha, it'll come! I swear! Fluff will come eventually!
Odintsova: Hmm, you put me in such a sticky situation...lol...I'm already so close to the ending. And so many people want the opposite. I will think on it. Maybe I'll fluff it up for you.
Padme Amidala2121: lol...Thanks.
Queen Alanna of conte: Omg, lol. I'll add in some A/J fluff sometime I swear. You're the fourth reviewer asking for it, that's enough for me. I know, murder on her mind now. She never seems to get a day of peace...
'Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the former'-Albert Einstein
"I believe I'm going to cry," Abigail whimpered, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Eleni Cooper had just concocted a potion to make her hair short and white blonde like her father's. The new hair barely brushed Abby's chin, which looked rather weak without the regal black Conte hair. There was no doubt that the royal Niece was still beautiful, just not as much as she had been before.
"I do have to do this?" Abby whined, hands fluttering to the blonde mop on her head.
Lady Winfred was losing her patience with her daughter, "Yes, you do Abby. I will not have people murmuring about how 'Xandra of Groer' looks more a Conte than the royal Niece herself. You will wear this in public and like it. You shall tell your father that it is the height of fashion. You shall tell the others that this is how you really look. Is that understood, young lady?"
Before Abigail could reply with a snide comment that would surely start a mother-daughter conflict, Alanna butted in, "It's really not that bad. I like it."
"You think so?" the Scanran Conte asked, wanting desperately to hear that she was still beautiful.
The Lioness nodded, "Yes, I'm sure my lady Winfred would agree?"
She stared pointedly at the royal Aunt, urging her to tell Abigail she looked perfectly nice. Winfred stroked her neck, "I would. You look lovely, Abby."
Lady Winfred turned to "Now, Eleni, dear, how much would you like for this vial of potions?"
As the two women began to settle a deal, Alanna drifted away from them to the window. Unfortunately, she was stuck being Alanna of Conte/Bablia for the day, whilst Thom got to battle other squires and practice swordsplay. Sitting at the window seat, the Lady Squire stared down into the courtyard before her. Snow was falling heavily this January day, making the world outside entirely white.
To the right of the courtyard, near the entrance, about seven servingmen scurried about readying a carriage for some noble or the other. The men had their thin cloaks hugged tight around their bodies as they harnessed the beautifully white stallions. Suddenly a distraction came from another corner of the courtyard, two figures, dressed in black and violet respectively came out through the palace doors. On closer inspection, Alanna realized it was a pair of noble ladies. Delia and Helena.
They had their backs turned to the window Alanna was spying through so they didn't notice her watching them. They looked to be doing nothing seemingly interesting, although the Trebond could not help but follow their every movement. For a second they did nothing but sit on a bench idly and talk. Gossiping most likely. Why did they not do that indoors where it was far warmer?
The doors to enter the courtyard opened and Jon, Geoffery and Raoul rode in. They got off their horses, unsaddling them. Obviously, they had just returned from a quick and hearty ride. Alanna wished she could've joined in with a large desperate longing. She was tired of being a lady. Instantly, Helena and Delia were swatting around them, all the ardent admirers.
They chatted for a while in a big group. Then, Helena whispered something in the Crown Prince's ears, leading him away from the rest of them. They began walking, the Gallan slipped, the Prince stopped her from falling by grabbing her hand, tightly. After straightening her, he didn't let go of her hand. Alanna felt her breath catch a little in her chest. The pair of them, looking the most smartest match, started walking side by side, swaying gently and talking about things that the Lioness wished she could hear. In a second, Helena jumped away from him, laughing. She squealed, loudly enough for Alanna to hear through the glass of her window, and threw a snowball at him. It hit him in the face in a comic sort of way. He grinned at her, wiping off his face. He quickly gathered a lump of snow in his fist, ready to throw it at her. Immediately, Helena began a mad dash, running away from him as fast as she could. The both of them disappeared through the entrance of the courtyard. Alanna faintly saw them running into the royal forest before they vanished from view.
She turned away from the window, leaning her head against the wall. Eleni waved goodbye to her, already finished haggling prices and packing up her belongings. Alanna managed a faint smile, her mind still on Helena and Jonathan. Was it horrible of her to want him even though she knew very well so that she couldn't have him? He simply wasn't in her destiny. No man was. Then why did it wound her so to see him with someone else, nice and happy? Was that tingling, overwhelming feeling in her gut just infatuation as she had thought, or something more?
"Prettyness, what's wrong?" Winfred demanded, noticing her sour look.
In the place where she usually would've said, 'Nothing', she made no sound at all. She didn't really care if people knew something was wrong with her. She was tired of hiding her feelings, of making up lies. This whole giant mess was one big lie. She'd even fibbed to Jon, just because she hadn't wanted to tell him the truth. The horrible and yet, almost thrilling fact that she-that she was in...in that one frightening feeling. What that feeling was, she wouldn't dare say. To anyone. Ever.
The royal Aunt and her royal daughter were just exchanging looks on their Lady Squire's odd behavior when a knock came at the door. Abby stood, nervously patting her hair as she went to get it. Alanna stifled a groan as she saw the Duke of Conte step over the threshold. He was wearing a deep red cloak and tanned boots, ready to face the freezing cold of the winter outside. He bowed to all three of them, smiling. As he rose he gave the Lioness the smallest of winks that made her want to give him the biggest of slaps.
"Aunt Winfred, Lady Xandra, dearest Alanna, it is a pleasure to see you all," he gushed, stepping forward as the cape of his cloak flapped behind him, impressively.
The three of them murmured the same, curtsying in turn. The Trebond was feeling extremely apprehensive at his being here. What could he possibly want now?
"Would you care for some tea, dear nephew?" Winfred inquired, kindly, her acting was perfect to the very last curl in her dark hair, "I can call my servingmaid Carly to go brew some, what do you say?"
"I'd rather not," Roger declined, "I was actually here regarding Alanna."
She had hoped his visit had nothing to do with her, but she supposed that was really too much to ask for. Not letting herself slip out of her ladylike trance for even a second she beamed, broadly, "Oh me? Why ever so?"
"I had thought we could take a ride to the city and perhaps look at patterns for tablecloth for our wedding? Perhaps even lunch at some well-to-do restaurant?" the Conte Duke offered so politely that any mother's heart would melt.
Why did he want to take her out? She knew as sure as a bee sting that he didn't care a pint for her. Something must be on his mind. Alanna glanced quickly at Abigail, suspecting it was her that had raised his suspicion in her. She sighed, hoping she really wouldn't have to go along. However it seemed she and the royal Aunt were not on the same wave length for she replied with a simple, "Alright, I suppose that would be in order."
Alanna's mouth fell open in outrage but before she could say anything, Winfred glared at her and gave a furious shake of her head. The Lady Squire obeyed, shocked that she took Winfred's word to law, something to follow without question. She had not always been so obedient. Then again, she had not always had a mother-like figure so close to her. The Lioness shut her mouth, almost on the verge of pouting. However, she would not lower herself to complete Delia-like behavior.
"Positively wonderful, may we leave now then, love?" Roger questioned, sweetly. He hadn't been so sweet that night Lincoln had tried to interrogate him.
"I prefer to be called Alanna actually," she corrected, her fire not entirely died out.
"Fine, then, Alanna," he compiled, but by his tone she could tell he was displeased, "Shall we leave?"
There was no excuse for her to say no so she nodded, sullenly. Grabbing her navy blue cloak, she placed her hand on his forearm (begrudgingly) and was out the door. But not even she stuck her head in and made a face of utter disgust, causing Abby to laugh and Winfred to frown whilst hiding a smile.
"Then she made me sit with the poor girl all day in hopes of having us fall in love," Raoul grumbled, complaining about his annoying great aunt, "As if anyone could fall in love with her breathing down their necks!"
"Now, was there ever anything that made you happier?" Geoffery had a slopy grin on his face, as the Prince and his two friends rode into the Palace courtyard after a winding ride through Corus.
"You find that my great aunt makes you happy? If so, tell me now. I could help you with your game plan...she is single, you know...," Raoul teased, his face grinning where it would have been scowling just a second ago.
Jon laughed just as the younger noble growled, "Shut you! I was talking about those swans over there."
The elder Knights raised their heads and noticed Ladies Delia and Helena chatting on a bench not too far away. As the three of them rode in, the young ladies stood, looking to greet them. Raoul scrunched up his face, displeased. Geoffery was his opposite, practically calling them over with his wishful thinking. The Crown Prince couldn't be more neutral, although he was slightly smug. However, all in all, it didn't phase him that these women had come flocking to them. To him. Women had been all over him since he was the tender age of thirteen.
The young noblemen jumped off their steads, unsaddling the horses. Delia and Helena had come so close now, that he could smell the strong, overbearing scent of their lilac perfume.
"Your Highness, Sirs Raoul and Jerry," they chorused, politely, bowing.
"It's Geoffery actually," the squire corrected, his smile fading a little. But only a little.
"Uh huh," Delia nodded, unconcerned, "So, how are you today, gentlemen?"
"Alright," Jonathan nodded, flashing a brief charming smile.
"Fantastic," Geoffery beamed, trying to stand taller.
"I'm cold," Raoul whined, staring pointedly at Jon, urging him to make up an excuse to avoid talking to the two ladies.
Delia's green eyes had never looked more emerald. She flickered her lashes up to the Palace behind them for a second before lowering them again. Jon followed her gaze, glancing at a foggy window for a brief moment. Someone looked to be watching them from up there, but he couldn't really tell. It could be the draperies for all he knew. Helena laughed at something Raoul said, diverting his attention from the window-watcher.
"Just came from a ride, did you? To where, Corus?" Delia questioned, making pleasantries, which was unlike her.
'What does she want now?' the heir to the throne wondered to himself. When someone knows Delia like he knew Delia, they generally guessed that she wanted for herself when she was kind. What in the world could she be up to?
"Your Highness," a sudden whisper came in his ear, "May we take in private, please?"
Jonathan reeled back a bit, studying Helena. Alanna would kill him if he was seen speaking with her cousin again, but then again, it was probably nothing but harmless, right? After all, what the Lady Squire didn't know, couldn't hurt her. The Gallan Lady's grey eyes met his blue ones with a beautiful sheen, "Of course, my lady."
He had never been good at turning down beauty. The two of them broke away from the group and Jonathan could practically feel Raoul shooting spiteful daggers into the back of his handsome head.
Stepping one a sleet of ice, Helena slipped, near falling. Jon grabbed her hand in a swift motion, breaking the fall. She smiled up at him, through perfect light brown bangs. The Tortallan Prince tried to remove his hand from her grasp but she held strong and in the end, he let her. It was more an action of throwing her a bone than anything else. Truth is, Jon still felt guilty for breaking her poor little heart at Midwinter time and no matter what Alanna said, she had been nothing but kind to him.
"You wanted to talk to me, Lady Helena?" he asked, looking ahead at the snowy Tortallan landscape.
"Quite right. I wanted to speak of my cousin, Lady Alanna," the Gallan explained.
"You mean my cousin Alanna," Jonathan said, exaggerating the 'my'.
"You know perfectly well what I mean," Helena replied, choppily, "I'm not stupid, you know."
He gave in. Obviously she knew Alanna of Trebond and Alanna of Conte were the same person. She also knew that he knew. There was no point in playing silly games by hiding it now.
"Say what you wanted to say," he sighed, awfully sick and tired of his squire's long-running charade.
"Well, I just wanted to give you my approval," she answered, giving him a sneer of a smile, "And that of my mother's. You two will make a lovely pair."
Jon laughed, "She doesn't love me."
"But you love her and that's all that matters, doesn't it? You're Prince, practically King. Your word is law. If you want my Trebond cousin to marry you, she'll have to," Helena smirked, flicking her hair over her shoulder.
"I don't want to force her into marrying me," the Crown Prince responded, icily.
"Of course you don't," she giggled, rolling her eyes, "And don't get all stiff on me now."
She jumped away from him, chuckling. She snatched up some snow from the ground, balling it up with gloved hands.
He eyed her wearily, "What, in Mithros' name, do you plan to do with that?"
Helena gave a shrill squeal and through a snowball that went splat in his face. He wiped it off, grinning, all thoughts of Alanna and love and marriage gone. For all that he was, Jonathan was extremely competitive. He was promptly melding a snowball of his own. Within seconds, it was ready to be thrown at his opponent. Helena screamed, running away from him. He followed, at a fast pace. He had thought to outrun her in no time at all, but she was faster than he expected. Soon, he was following her into the royal forest, without a second thought. He never imagined anything horrible could come of his little escapade.
Out in the corridors of the palace, the Duke of Conte and the Trebond passed other nobles who grinned, approvingly, at seeing them together. Roger smiled and nodded at them in turn. Oh, they were the very picture of a happy engagement. Except for the fact that the bride-to-be had the largest scowl on her face. Alanna couldn't help but be displeased at being in such close proximity to Roger of Conte.
Once they came out into the courtyard, Alanna noticed the carriage with the white stallions. It was waiting for her and Roger. She frowned, he had been so assured that she would agree to this little escapade that he had ordered the carriage set-up even before she'd been permitted to join him. He barked at the servingmen, telling them to get to their stations, some as footmen and another as a driver. The men skirmished and stood, righteously, in their proper spots. One of them opened the door to the pale green carriage, bowing to the both of them. The Duke of Conte tried to nudge her forward but she stood steady and shot him a glare before taking her own sweet time getting into the carriage. He could stand out there in the cold waiting for her to get in for a century for all she cared.
However, in a minute, they were both settled in their seats, their breaths coiling out from their mouths inside the frigid wooden box. Unspeakingly, Roger used his Gift to internally warm the carriage. The driver lashed his whip and the horses set off on a trot with a gentle sway. The carriage chatter was seemingly awkward.
"Know you that I enjoy the hunt, my dear cousin?" the Conte Duke implored, his voice as smooth as pond water, "In fact today I shall be off chasing deer with your very own father and Lady Catherine of Galla."
"What do I care?" the Trebond drawled, her head against the window, staring out.
"You become more disobedient by the day," Roger spat, his temper flaring in private. He saved his mask of charm only for the public.
"I'm not some servant you can order about at you will!" Alanna retorted, her face getting red.
"Oh but you are. For when we are married, I will be God and you nothing but my trophy!" he cried, then settled himself. It was unlike him to yell. His calm composure was back in about two minutes.
"Strange, as I remember, God backwards is dog," the Lioness smiled, her eyes glinting dangerously, "Are you a dog too, my dear fiance?"
At first it seemed the Conte Duke was about to reprimand her with a shout, turn her into a frog, massacre her with his bare hands. However, he just sat back and laughed. His finding dry humor in the situation creeped the Lady Squire out. She shivered, wishing he'd stop his insisten cackles.
"You know, at first I felt bad for using you just for my better ends. You seemed such a sweet, mindless, girl when I went to visit you in Scanra. However, now that I understand you, I shall enjoy making you pay," he said, finally, and she fought the urge to shudder.
She crossed her arms over her chest in stuborness, "I won't suffer because I shan't be marrying you. I won't marry my cousin. It is nothing but wrong."
"His Majesty, King Roald didn't seem to think so," Roger shot back, "And the sooner you get over the cousin issue, the better. You may as well know now that we will breed and that a pure heir will finally rule inherit the Tortallan throne."
"I'm part Scanran, remember? Your child will be as pure as the blood of Sarain," Alanna snapped, her stomach twirling over at the thought of partaking in carnal actions with the Conte Duke.
"And soon your body will be as blue as the peaks of Tusaine," Roger said with just a steely reserve that it sent the conversation down the drain until the pair reached the city. The whole time, all Alanna could think about was her seemingly unescapable destiny.
Upon returning to the Palace, it was apparent that something was wrong. Squires and pages were running about in a frenzy, readying the horses of many a Knight to be ridden. The King's advisors were no where to be seen, obviously busy in council, the Queen's ladies had delayed their typical tea party and all the other nobility were scurrying about gossiping in packs whilst the Heralds were declaring that everyone should keep to the safety of the Palace. But the biggest clue that something was wrong was the restlessness in the air. Not a bird was in the sky and the clouds were stuck in place, a cloudy gray.
Roger, however, seemed unphased, though slightly perturbed by curiousity. He left Alanna in the courtyard where they'd took off from and stalked off, seemingly to find out what was up. Stefan, the hostler, eyed the Lady Squire as he harnessed a horse. The Lioness breathed in, taking in the options. Perhaps there was war? Or could it be simple bandits? Maybe a flood was coming their way?
"It's almost sad to see you thinking so hard and coming up with nothing," Delia, who had only been a shadow against the stables a second before, snickered, "Then again, perhaps the word I'm looking for is pathetic."
"What do you want, Lady Delia?" Alanna demanded through gritted teeth, "Can't you see I'm not in the mood to explain to you what two plus two is?"
The Lady Eldorne laughed, her tone high-pitched, "Your funny. But you won't be laughing once you find out what's happened to your precious Prince."
Suddenly, the Lioness was all ears, "Jonathan? What's the matter with him?"
"He's missing; kidnapped. Presumed dead, unfortunately," Delia sighed, looking truely sorrowful, "What a shame, huh? Especially with a handsome face like that-"
"Wait," the Trebond interrupted, "When did he go missing?"
"Two, three hours ago," the Eldorne shrugged, playing with the clasp on her cloak, "It's a pity you never got to say goodbye."
It had been three hours since Alanna had been away from the Palace and even though, in no way was she to blame for this tragic turn of events, she couldn't help but feel guilty. The one time when she had felt the Palace for such a long period of time in months and the Prince goes and gets himself kidnapped! She swallowed the lump groaning in her throat as Delia's words echoed in her head.
'Presumed dead. Dead. Dead.'
He couldn't be dead. Not yet. Perhaps there was still a chance she might save him. Her mind was swirling, thinking of the last time she'd seen him that day. As soon as the question entered her mind, the answer struck her. Last she'd seen, Jonathan had been with Helena, running off to the royal forest. Hundreds of dangers awaited those forests. He could've been attacked by a wolf or stuck in a bear trap.
"Has anyone seen Helena?" Alanna questioned, her tongue fighting to work faster than her mind.
"No, but who cares with the Prince missing?" Delia raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp.
Without a word, the Lioness raced to the nearest saddled horse, mounting it. Her cloak whipped out behind her.
"Aye!" a hostler screamed, shaking his fist at her, "That's for Sir Fireth! Return this instant!"
However, she did not heed his words. Instead, she kicked the mare to a charge and rode off into the royal forest. Delia smiled, slowly, not expecting anything else of the girl. It was amazing how easily she was qualled by a simple trick.
'Fool,' Delia thought, turning about. Stefan, the hostler, stared at her, eyes wide.
"I suggest you get a portrait," Delia snapped, her manners dead and evaporated, "Because if you keep planning on staring at me I may have to gouge your eyes out."
The hostler was not bothered which directly bothered Delia. She pushed past him on her way into the castle, "Commoner scum."
Stefan waited till she was gone to begin writing a message in the code of the Rogue to George. The King of Thieves had told the chief hostler to keep a watch on the royal Niece, for reasons only he knew. Surely he would want to know that the lass was rushing off into forests to rescue the missing Prince, though, Stefan doubted such a fiery young lady (even if she was noble) would need watching over.
The forest was alive with subtle sounds of winter. Alanna rode on a horse she had renamed Spots to suit her liking because he was gray and had white spots all over his adorable coat. She stroked his neck, trying to comfort herself. Twigs crackled under the stead's hooves, unnerving her. In the distant, she heard the faraway hoot of a snowy owl and heard the flap as it took flight.
The Lioness searched with her eyes, trying desperately to find any sign of Jonathan or Helena anywhere. She wished Faithful or Thom were here to guide her with the reassurance of a Gift. She certainly didn't want to use her own.
The cold was almost unbearable. Several times Alanna thought of turning back but then she pictured her Knightmaster and cousin as some beast's dinner and she again was determined to save them both. Her heart was beating loudly, though she didn't understand why. She'd been in the forest millions of times and had never been phased. What was it about this particular time? What foreboding, what horrors did it hold?
'Why do I leave as if I shall not be returning to the Palace in one piece?' she pondered, her breath catching in her throat.
Up ahead, the Trebond noticed a fire burning. The flames stuck out like a sore thumb because although it was daylight, the weak winter sun barely leaked in through the forest canopy. A clearing was slowly coming into view. Alanna jumped off Spots, leading the mare by the reins. A sole figure stood near the fire, cloak bound around their wiry body. Coming into the clearing, the Lioness realized it was Helena and she had a manical gleam in her eyes.
"I knew you would come," she said, softly, "I knew you would come to find your Prince. And he thinks you don't love him. How ironic."
The Lady Squire was in no mood to talk to riddles, "Well, obviously you're unharmed. Just tell me where Jonathan is and let's go."
The Gallan chortled, "Uh, uh, uh. Not so fast. First you answer a few questions and then I'll tell you where he is."
"Ok, that's it, bitch. Shall we wrestle?" Alanna offered, since she had no arms on her. She was posing as a lady after all. "I've been just dying to tear you apart since the Queen's Tea Party jubilee."
Helena smiled, "How about you wrestle a few of my friends first?"
"Wha-?" Alanna straightened, an eyebrow arched.
She turned around and saw about a dozen men, all ones she recognized to be bandits, coming out between the nooks of two trees, the highest branches and even some out of bushes. Great Mother Goddess! I could she have been so stupid to get herself into this situation?
However, instead of wailing and whining like most other ladies, she took it levelheaded. Arching her shoulders back, she hunched low, wishing for the hundreth time that she knew the tricks of the Shang. Spitting on the snow covered ground, she gestured the bandits foward.
They came, no holds bars. While Alanna was a prominent fighter, she was out of practice and in all truth, her small stature never helped in this particular sport. They had her held tight in about five minutes, although it took five of them to hold her. Alanna breathed, raggedly. Never had she hated Helena more than she did now.
"By the Black God! That'un nearly took my right eye out!" one of the bandits muttered, "I believe we ought t'be paid more fer that'un. She's a noble lady, right 'n' true but she's got some commoner trainin'."
It's true she had. Thank George Cooper, the King of Thieves.
"Speak again and I'll cut your tongue," Helena threatened, "And I told you, my mother and I'll pay you once this job is done."
"Now," she grinned, changing her tone completely, "Are you ready to answer my question? After that I shall let you go and tell you the whereabouts of your paramour."
In the dim shadow of trees just outside the clearing, Alanna noticed three people standing there on horses. Perhaps if they came closer they'd seen her and save her. However, they may just pass her by. The Lioness decided she had a better shot at answering a few stupid questions.
"Firstly, tell me, do you have the Gift? Are you a socceress," Helena demanded.
Alanna blanched, not expecting that particular question, "You know that I do, idiot. But I am hardly a socceress."
The Gallan's eyes glinted, "Are you a liar? Have you been lying to the King and Queen and Prince?"
"No!" the Trebond snapped back, "I would never lie to my sovereigns."
"Are you sure? Haven't you been presuming a fake identity in their presence?" Helena questioned, her behavior and body language edged with hate.
The Lioness breathed in, "Yes but I cannot help that. That again, you already know."
"Hmm...lastly, may I ask, do you love the Prince?" her cousin inquired, a wind picking up the tips of her skirts and cloak and hair, making her look as if she were standing on the spot.
Alanna barked out a shaggy laugh, "Kill me."
It was Helena's turn to be confused, she blinked, "Excuse me?"
"Kill me now because I'm not even going to dignify that question with a response," the Lady Squire smirked, she had won.
"Fine, good Sirs, what do you say? Shall we slay the Prince?" Helena suggested, her question getting roars of approval.
The Lioness paled. She was struggling internally. Answer the question and despise the reply all her life or not say a word and be the cause of her own death and Jonathan's. The dilema was worse than one might think. Alanna bit her tongue, blood soaring into her mouth. Ow. Ow. Ow. Oh. Oh. Oh. She couldn't say it. It was just too horrible to bear. To disgusting to utter...but Helena didn't look like she would let up.
"Alright!" the Lady Squire finally yelped, as if she'd been burned, "I'll tell you."
Helena's interest was at its peak, "Yes?"
"I love him," Alanna whispered, scared of the words she'd spoken. This was an all-time low. When she was out of this situation, she would cut Helena's head off and rejoice in the spilling of her blood. Or a more probably alternative was slipping spiders in her bed.
"What was that?" Helena demanded, being a true nussaince as she held her hand to her ear in exaggeration.
"For Mithros' sake! I love him!" Alanna shouted, fighting against the arms of men that held her fast.
Helena played with her skirts, whirling them. She was the very picture of pleased. She laughed and laughed and laughed. The laughter drowned out Alanna's own thoughts as they played through her head.
"Now tell me where Jon is!" she yelled, to be heard above the noise, "Tell me where he is before the whole of Tortall is out looking for him and you get into real trouble!"
Just then, the three dark figures on horses broke their way into the clearing. Duke Roger, Lord Cobalt and Lady Catherine. The first two looked dumbfounded and the latter was smug, pleased with the damage she'd helped cause. Suddenly Alanna realized she was the one in real trouble. The three of them had obviously been on their hunt that Conte Duke had mentioned on the trip to the city and Catherine had led them here to witness Alanna's confession. Loving the Prince, fake identities, being a sorcceress.
"Lord Cobalt, your daughter is a harlott. A hypocrite too. Just this morning she told me she wouldn't dare marry her cousin and now she declares an undying love for the Crown Prince," Roger stated, the venom in his voice apparent.
"My daughter?" the Scanran Warlord blinked, "She is no daughter of mine. My daughter is Abigail. Abby?"
"The servingmaid?" Roger frowned, scrunching up his face.
"Servingmaid! I bed your pardon!" Cobalt cried, insulted.
"Oh my! What havoc!" Lady Catherine gasped, hand to her bosom. She shot a quick glare at Alanna, smiling. Her daughter was wearing close to the very same expression. The two of them had triumphed and Alanna had lost.
The Lioness' head was spinning, but she managed to ask one last question, "Helena, where is Jonathan?"
"Right now?" Helena grinned, obviously enjoying the best treat of all, "Why, he's at the Dancing Dove enjoying a few drinks is all, silly."
Author's Note: Quite a crucial chapter, hey? So many problems revealed! Ahhh! What shall happen? Lol...it's so horrible for Alanna isn't it? And what confessions! Haha, and just so you know, Roger wasn't in on this plan. He's just as shocked as anyone else. This plan was made by Helena, Catherine and Delia to out Alanna. Anyway, click in next chapter. It's going to be good, hehehe.
winky-wink