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: Alanna/Jon
Musical Affection: 'Wild Rose' by Bombay Rockers.
Author's Note: Ok, hopefully this is part one of the end. Next chapter should be the last chapter just so you all know. But the way things are going, it may be two. So, I know you're all thinking like what the hell, how is she going to tie up all the loose ends? And many A/J fans are worried that I'll just cut out the fluff, but I don't. It'll all come together and I hope you love it. Oh, and a little note on the last chapter, I realized that it was rather inspired by 'The Eyes of the Dragon' by Stephen King in subtle little ways. I just finished reading that book for a novel study at school so I suppose that's why.
Now, to important topics that came up in reviews that I'm sorta interested in commenting about...
Potter Moment: You're all right who said this (or maybe this was just FanFictionFanthom). It really was a Potter moment but wasn't really intended to be. What can I say? JKR has all the good story ideas.
Length: Near the end of stories, my chapters tend to get longer because I have more and more to say. I really like leaving everyone hanging till the last few chapters because it leaves you thinking, omg how can this all wrap up in like two or something chapters? But it's fun for me, rather unnerving for you guys.
Shang versus Knighthood: Which will Alanna end up with? Well, the thing about this story is, I didn't mean to take the entire plot of Song of a Lioness and change it. I just wanted to fill in the gaps of her squire years. Truthfully, when you look at the book, other than the Tusaine War and falling in love with a Prince, most of her day-to-day squire life is a blank page. We don't really know every little detail about what happened. So I wanted to fill in a bit for all of you. I want to make this story a sort of extension to the middle of In the Hang of the Goddess. So, I hope that explains whether she'll end up in Shang or become a Knight. I give I'm practically handing you the answer.
Sequel: Um...haha...I didn't plan on a sequel because I don't really have any sequel-esque ideas for this. Sorry, lol. Unless you all want to suggest somethig? LOL...kk yeah, as of right now, I can say there will probably be no sequel. Sequels scare me because they're usually not as good as the original. Yeah, but I will write other fics in the Tortall Realm for sure. But to keep the hopes up, I'll say I'm more so thinking on it.
Lastly, a thanks to the supercalafragalistic reviewers: iluvsinging33 Queen Alanna of conte eridani lutefa Confusedknight epobbp FanFictionFanthom Lady Knight Mishi Starr Wanderer of Dreams &&kristina.
This chapter is dedicated to Angel of a Dream who wanted to feel special.
'I love you and because I love you, I would sooner have you hate me for telling you the truth than adore me for lies'-Pietro Aretino
For a brief second, time stopped and the earth exploded.
Or rather, Alanna's mind went blank for ideas. Roger stood there, smirking, arms crossed over his chest. The two Knights of the Own stood on either side of him, flexing their wrists and sheething their swords from their scabbards. The Lioness had never felt more unarmed then she did now.
On a bold spur of extreme courage or extreme insanity, she leapt forth and kicked the Duke of Conte in the tenderest of places. He was taken by surprise and the blow came on with full force. He crumpled to the floor, gasping. The Knights blanched, completely bewildered.
"After them you fools!" Roger shouted from his place on the cold stone floor of the dungeons.
The Knights let out a war cry and charged forth, taking on George's men. Though the Knights had been through the Ordeal and vigorous training, their lack of practice as part of the King's Own showed and the boys from the Dove were pacing them fast. Alanna's face brightened, perhaps they could get out of this situation alive.
That thought was instantly disrupted by the Conte Duke crawling over to a table, his privates shielded and pulled a rope that run an emergency bell. It was in case any prisoners tried to escape and it rung into the courtyard. George paled. Once the others heard that distress single, they would come running. He pulled away from the Lady Squire and jumped on the Duke, stopping him from ringing the bell. But it was too late, already they could hear rumbling as all the Knights in the Palace and even some squires ran to the dungeons, their swords glinting in the moonlight.
"George!" Alanna cried to him, as he fought to hold Roger down, "George, they're coming!"
"Lanna, th'Dragon's on'y 'ere till midnight 'fore 'ee moves on to Port Caynn," he choked out, between breaths, as he flipped the Duke of Conte over to his stomach and began pulling his arms together, "Get out o' 'ere!"
"What about all of you?" the Trebond waved her hand around their companions, wildly.
"We'll be fine, y'go on!" George shouted, managing to hold Roger's arms together at the wrist whilst searching for something in his cloak. It was a daggar and rope. He threw the weapon at Alanna, "Take this an' use it against anyone in yer path. There are horses waitin' fer you just outside th'royal stables."
"If you think I'm leaving without you, you've gone mad!" Alanna hollered back, holding the knife, stubbornly. The rumbling of footsteps was drawing ever near.
"Alanna, fer once in yer life do something without fighting back!" George snapped back, his eyes showing that he was dead serious.
The Lioness hesistated for a second longer, struggling between what was smart and what she felt was right. In the end, the pleading look the Rogue gave her mustarded her into running up the stairs. Instantly the Conte Duke started shrieking, "She's escaping! The criminal is escaping!" Then there was a loud crack and Alanna had a feeling that George had done something drastic to shut the Duke up.
Coming out into the upper floor, she became nervous. She was still wearing the white silk gown she had been wearing the day she'd been caught in the forest. The Lioness had never fought in a dress before and wasn't sure if she could do it to her full potential. Clutching the hilt of George's dagger and hitching up her dress, she slinked across the darkened corridor. Did she dare use the main stairway to escape? What if, just as she was going up, a company of Knights came down? Facing all those Knights in a gown was not something she looked forward too.
She stared down the hall, checking out her options. Statue of Rex of Rotar, the greatest judge Tortall had ever known, painting of Knights defeating a troop of bandits, a window, black-wait! A window! Now, that was what she'd been looking for. Alanna rushed over to it, the voices of Knights reaching her ears faintly egging her on. She unlatched it and glanced down, it wasn't a very big drop. She was in the hallway just above the underground dungeons after all.
She swung one leg over the window ledge so that she was straddling it. Then, she hitched her other leg over, and leaped. She landed, catlike, on both feet with her bag arched. The Lady Squire entered and shut the window, though she could not relatch it from the outside. It would take longer for them to figure how she had escaped this way.
The Trebond scurried across the Palace Grounds, keeping to darkened corners. Fortunately, she ran into no one. And if anyone had run into her, they surely would've thought she was a ghost in her white gown. Finally, just when she reached the courtyard, she paused before racing to the stables. If she ran, she would never have been so exposed in her life. Mithros, anyone could just be randomly looking out the window and catch her escape.
She strayed for a second more, before gulping, gathering her strength and running to the courtyards as fast as she could. She was almost there, this run wouldn't even take a minute...
"Halt! Who goes there?" someone demanded from behind her.
Alanna regretted turning around a thousand times over. If she had just kept on running, the person wouldn't have been able to outrun her. But by facing them, she made herself vulnerable. Standing before her were four Knights all dressed in the glory that was the King's Own. The Trebond inwardly groaned. She had been so close to escaping too!
The Knights came towards her, she couldn't outrun them now. Even if she did reach the horses, they were four men and could take down a silly girl in a gown and stead anyday. However, their walk was odd, with a hint of a swagger. Were they drunk?
"Why-? Hold it, are y'Lanna?" the head of the men asked, his voice suddenly cheery. Alanna recognized it.
"Helios Kirk?" she breathed, not daring to believe it.
"Yea, how'd you know?" Helios demanded, raising an eyebrow. When all the Knights got close, Alanna realized that they were all men from the Dancing Dove. She almost laughed in relief. So this escape had been planned out better than she thought.
"Uh, George told me. And my brother, Alan, mentioned you too," the Lioness explained, admiring the way each commoner looked like a born and bred noble in their suits of armor.
"Where is'e anyway?" another 'knight' inquired. It was Tanner. "An' what was that bell?"
"Duke Roger caught us escaping," Alanna explained, hurriedly, wanting to get them all out of here before they were caught, "George and them are fighting Knights as we speak."
"To hell with it!" a man known as Jaws swore, "I knew this would be th'death of us."
"What do y'sugget we do, Helios?" a calmer, more sly, thief called Damion implored, shining his shield. He had a very faint city accent for someone who was a thief.
"Nuthin' much we can do, can we? You know th'rules o'the Rogue. Survivors flee. Before we go, Tanner y'go tell Lincoln, Hawk Eye an'Quinn t'leave," Helios ordered, suddenly sounding like quite the Commander. Alanna was shocked. She had never heard him so serious before.
"An' th'rest of us will ride wif Alanna t'the Dove," he finished, grabbing the Lady Squire's wrist, planning to help the 'noble lady' to the horses.
She twisted away from him. She was about to say, "I know my own way to the Dove, thanks," but she bit her tongue, knowing that Alanna of Trebond, the half-mad lady she was supposed to be playing most certainly did not know where the Dancing Dove was. That was Alan of Trebond.
Silently, fuming, Alanna followed the three thieves to the horses hidden near the stables, wrapping her own arms around herself to keep warm. It was a very good method or perhaps the Lioness was just not very talented in the art of holding herself. For a brief moment she wondered how it would feel if it was her knightmaster holding her. She'd feel far warmer than she did now, that was a certainty. As soon as she thought of Jonathan, her heart broke. She was leaving him, leaving all she had known at the Palace without so much as a proper goodbye.
The horses came into view. There were only three and there were four people.
"Only four 'orses," Helios stated, glancing at Alanna, "Listen, m'lady, I'm afraid ye'll 'ave t'ride with another one of us."
"I wouldn't mind 'er ridin' with me," Jaws wiggled his eyebrows, suggestively.
Alanna wrinkled her nose, "I ride alone, boys."
"This's silly. Th'girl can't possibly expect two of us t'ride together?" Damion frowned.
Before any of them could say another word, the Lady Squire pulled out George's dagger and brandished it dangerously. She would never use it against any of them, but she knew it would get the job done. "Anyone care to argue further?"
"Damion, Jaws, ye'll be ridin' together," Helios declared, gulping. No wonder this woman had been imprisoned in the Palace dungeons, she was crazy!
"Need 'elp gettin' on that 'orse?" Jaws questioned, his fingers itching to touch her.
The Trebond didn't even blush at his unbashed desire, "I can get on a horse just fine."
Damion, who was on Jaws' right, snickered. The other thief turned on him, "Watchoo laughin' at?"
Alanna slid onto the back of a chestnut mare she had seen outside the Dancing Dove on numerous times. Once everyone was steady on their horses, the four of them set off. The Lioness felt a sickening feeling wrenching in her stomach as she rode away from the Palace. There was a battle raging there and she was not one to just ride away from those. What would happen to George and those who remained there and fought? She heard Helios mention that Lincoln and most all the rest of the Contes were involved in helping her to escape, what would happen to them all should this plan be revealed? Why, the royal family itself would be charged with treachery and be hung on Traitor's Hill.
"Wait," Alanna stopped her horse when they were half to the lower city, "I have to go back."
"Are y'mad?" Jaws barked, his eyes wide.
"No, no. I have to go back. I can't let them fight alone," the Trebond shook her head, urging her stead to turn around.
"Th'Shang Dragon is on'y 'ere till midnight," Damion warned, knowing that George would slaughter them all if they allowed her to return to the Palace, "Y'on'y 'ave a bit over ten minutes t'reach 'im."
"I don't care," Alanna retorted, her face set, she whirled around on her horse, ready to gallop back to the Palace when Helios leaped from his horse onto her's. She screamed, taken by surprise. They wrestled for control of the reigns as the chestnut mare whined and clapped its hooves like mad. In the end, after Jaws and Damion offered Helios their help, they managed to bind Alanna still with their arms.
"You can't do this to me! I have to get back to the Palace! I have to-," her cries were muffled out when Helios stuck a royal napkin in her mouth.
Damion regarded this in surprise, "Y'stole it?"
"C'n y'imagine th'price it'll fetch at market? Th'King's napkins!" Helios grinned in spite of himself.
Just then the bells rung from the Churches and the Palace. It was midnight. The three thieves looked at each other, horrorstruck. Liam Ironarm, the Shang Dragon, had given precise instructions stating that he would only wait for his 'girl warrior' until the twelfth hour, then he was gone. Jaws snuck to the ground. They had failed their King by not managing to deliver this Alanna of Trebond to the Shang.
"What d'we do?" Jaws demanded, "Th'Dragon'll 'ave-"
Helios hoisted a gagged Alanna onto the chestnut mare and got on, himself, "We ride t'the Dove."
Alanna blinked. Once. Twice. Three whole times before the world came into view. The first thing she saw were two very beautiful pools of sapphire blue. She smiled and reached out a hand to touch the ivory cheek that went along with the striking eyes.
"Jon," she murmured, her voice soft.
"She wishes," someone laughed and suddenly everything in the room came into sharp focus. The eyes she'd seen hadn't been the Crown Prince's at all. They were Abigail's. She had just stroked the royal Niece's cheek.
Trying both to hide her embarrassment and get her bearings, she sat up straighter and asked, "Where are we?"
"Good morning to you too. Mithros, did you learn nothing in those lady lessons I gave you?" Lady Winfred chided from her seat at a table by an open window.
Fortunately for her, Abigail and Lady Winfred were the only ones in her room at this time and were therefore the only ones to see her rather humiliating act upon her reawakening. Glacing around the room, the Lady Squire realized she was still at the Dancing Dove in one of the rooms that were often rented out to travellers. For a moment, she thought no more and only let the feeling of just getting up from an unusually peaceful sleep seep over her. Then she remembered...
"Last night. At the Palace. A battle...Great Mother, where's George?" Alanna's tongue lolled in her mouth, making it hard to talk, "And Lincoln? Tanner, the other boys from the Dove?"
"The boys from the Dove, Tanner, Lincoln, they're all fine," Abby assured, exchanging a quick glance with her mother.
However, even in her morning state, the Lioness didn't miss a beat, "And George?"
Silence.
"Where is George?" Alanna pressed on and finally, Winfred spoke, "You're not going to like this, prettyness, but he's at the Palace. Or rather, the dungeons. He was the one man they caught and, for helping you escape, he's to be beheaded today at noon in your place."
"What?" the Trebond breathed, her chest rising and falling visibly at the shock.
"I'm sorry. I know you cared for him," Abigail said, quietly, after a while.
"Cared? I still care for him!" the Lady Squire huffed, pushing her blanket off her and standing, "It's not noon yet is it? He's not going to die for something I did."
"Alanna! What can you do in two hours?" Lady Winfred questioned, rising to her feet too, "Even the thieves here have given up hope. Sirs Raoul and Gary have returned from Fort Serlain will all the Knights. An ambush is impossible."
"I don't want an ambush," Alanna replied, pulling on her riding boots as she spoke, "I don't want more fighting. That's the last thing everyone needs. I'm just going to go there and take the blame that should rightfully be mine. Anyways, I need to see the Prince and tell him the truth."
"The truth?" Abigail squealed, going to her mother's side and looking at her to talk some sense into the hot-headed girl before them.
"Yes, I can't let George die in my place. I'd never forgive myself," the Lioness clarified, her eyes set. It seemed as if, for the first time in months, she knew exactly what she must do.
The Lioness found a ragged white sweater and threw it on over the white gown she wore even now. She paused for a second and glanced at Lady Winfred. She wanted desperately to have the elder woman's approval. For her to say that what Alanna was planning on doing wasn't preposterous. For a brief moment, the royal Aunt held completely still, then she sighed and nodded, "Very well, we'll give you a ride there in our carriage."
Alanna grinned, giving Lady Winfred a very uncharacteristic hug. Winfred was awestruck but managed to grin and pat her head all the same. Both women were too headstrong to ever admit it, but they had come to think of each other rather like mother and daughter.
"This is mad," Abigail muttered, as they headed down the stairs of the Dove, "First we come to some stinky old pub, now we return to the Palace practically handing over Alanna's head on a platter...Mithros, what's next?"
The Lady Squire smiled to herself, realizing for the first time that it was quite something to see the Scanran Contes standing here in the Dancing Dove with the what most nobles would consider the 'scum of Corus.' Even in their simple day gowns, they looked stuffy and overdressed. Normally, the thieves and drunkards at the Dove would be all over themselves trying to get at Winfred's purse and sneak a kiss from Abigail, however today their fervor was ruined by the thought of such an untimely death of their King. The only man in the whole of the Dove who was chatting was a grisly middle-aged commoner with graying hairs and rheumy eyes. His discussion seemed intent and Alanna's ears prickled as she overheard a fragment.
"Duke Honrenchio Thyler of Galla..." (This name is actually mentioned in Chapter 4: Meals, Meals, Meals and Chapter 8: Oblivious)
That one name actually had the Trebond spinning on her heels. Horenchio Thyler of Galla was the name of Lady Catherine's second husband. The one that everyone suspected had been murdered.
"Alanna, aren't we leaving?" Winfred wrinkled her nose, already halfway out the door.
"Wait," she called back, bending over Tanner's shoulder to ask, "Who is that man?"
"Some bloke we saw ridin' in when we went off fer y'at th'Palace," Tanner replied, glumly, his spirit broken at the thought of George's death.
Alanna straightened, walking right over to him. She could just be wasting time like her mind, Winfred and Abigail thought or she could be doing something of significance like her instinct suggested. She tapped him on the shoulder and he whirled around, rather startled.
"M'...M'lady?" he offered, looking confused to see someone who was obviously noble and in noble company to be here at the Dancing Dove.
"Sir," the Lioness nodded in turn, showing a slight smirk, "You were acquainted with Duke Thyler?"
Here, the man got down on his knee, "He was my master for a short time, yes, m'Lady."
"Then you were acquainted with Lady Catherine and her daughter, Lady Helena?" Alanna demanded, hoping she was right.
The man suddenly looked frightful, "I knew'em both. I was their servingman until half a year ago."
The Lady Squire got down on her knee too, her eyes a dull violet from the seriousness of the situation, "You must know how they both died then. Lord Erik of Sommerset and Duke Thyler of Galla."
The servingman glared away from her, feeling as if he had just made eye contact with a goddess of some kind. Those purple eyes were unnatural, he decided in his mind. But he fought for his voice and whispered, hoarsely, "Yes I know. I'm here to see Lady Winfred of Conte because of it."
"This Lady Winfred?" Alanna asked, standing and gesturing towards the royalty behind her.
The servingman rose also, astounded. He bowed to both her and Abigail immediately. "My Ladies. I have much to tell you."
"You must be the servingman Jakob?" the royal Aunt smiled, her expression kind.
"Yes," he bowed again, "Is there a private place we may speak?"
Winfred looked to Alanna who agree, reluctuantly, "We can return to my rooms upstairs for a little while."
As they headed up, Abigail clung to the Lady Squire's forearm, saying, "You know what this means don't you?"
The Lioness nodded, her cheeks getting rosy just from the thought of it, "It means we have a plan."
The sun was high in the air, beating down on the wintery Tortall. The large courtyard in the Corus Royal Palace was full to the brim with nobles and commoners alike. Knights guarded every entrance and exit like hawks, ready to pounce on their prey. Everyone had come out to watch the first beheading in Tortall in sixty years. King Roald was not known for shedding blood but unfortunately, his nephew had grander influence on him than most had thought.
The King and Queen stood at a high parapet where they were farther away from the people and to their preference, out of view of the face of the convicted. In fact, they couldn't even really see his beheading unless they tried. Which they'd rather not.
Roger, on the other hand, was front and center, watching George come out onto the stage, for that was really what it was, a stage. And the people were oddly fascinated by it. They liked to see the upcomance of what they thought was evil. Even children were out, ready to witness the beheading.
Jonathan stood to a corner, Thom at his side. It was not an outright unusual side. As usual, the Prince and his brooding squire were off alone, away from the rest of the Knights and squires. Their faces were scrunched up, darkly.
'Where is she?' Jon kept thinking, 'Where's Alanna?'
He knew her coming here would be pretty much equal to suicide, but he couldn't help but think he knew her. He thought she'd be here, jumping all over herself to save George and yet here it was the moment when they'd chop the Rogue's head off, the moment when she should be rescuing him and she was no where in sight. He breathed out, deeply, if he could, he would've saved the King of Thieves but he'd come up with nothing. The dungeons were under constant supervision and he'd been more dependant on Alanna's loyalty than he should've been.
The court marshall came forth, his long robe furnished with fur. He began reading allowed everything George was sentenced for, which included everything Alanna had been convicted of. After he had finished, they lowered George's head onto the chopping board. The headsman glided forward with his axe. The heir to the throne of Tortall's eyes darted everywhere, was she really not here?
The axe went up, surprisingly George was not even sweating. He looked rather amused. Jon held his breath and unknowingly to him, so did the rest of the crowd in the square. The seconds seemed to draw on. One. Two. Thr-
"TORTALL!" someone cried and instantly, everyone's gaze was diverted from the scene before them to one directly behind them.
On the third and highest level of parapets overlooking the courtyard, a lone figure stood waving their hands an screaming at the top of their lungs. The headsman lowered his axe, rather perturbed. Jonathan smiled, faintly, noticing that the crazed intruder had bright red hair and a short stature.
"You're killing the wrong man," Alanna cried, knowing that this was probably the worst last-minute, desperate thing she could've done, "He's innocent and I'm innocent! I've a witness to prove it!"
"Is she insane?" Thom asked no one in particular, his gaze disbelieving.
Faithful rubbed along his ankles, 'Wasn't she always insane?"
"Men, to the third landing," Lord Issac commanded a company of the Own, "While she's up there screeching, we may be able to ambush her."
The Crown Prince was beside him at once, "You can't possibly be thinking of taking her to prison? Shouldn't we hear her out?
"Jonathan, do not be so easily swayed by her fibs," Duke Roger advised, creeping up to the Prince with a chilling quiet, "She's obviously just trying to free her accomplice."
The men of the King's Own were already off to the third landing, ready to bring down the fugitive. Jon frowned, running to his parents, Thom at his heels. He glanced up at the chopping block. George's head had been risen off, as Lord Provost waited for further comfirmation to condemn this man's life.
The Lioness noticed Lady Winfred and Abigail slipping into the crowd, making their way to King Roald and Queen Lianne with Jakob in tow. This plan was rather ludicrous. It had sounded so much better when she was sitting at the Dove, sipping a lemonade. Now that she was here, crying out like a mad man, she doubted whether her neck would survive the chopping block. If this plan backfired, she may well be dead by sunset.
To her great relief, Lord Provost allowed George to lift his head for the moment and even the headsman put down his axe. Lord Provost eyed George, shrewdly, before going off to speak to Lord Issac. The Rogue glanced over his shoulder at the headsman, sizing him up. If he planned this just right, he could be escaping the Palace in just under ten minutes. The crowd was beginning to talk and shuffle, wondering what could possibly be the hold up. One scrawny girl with a boy's hair couldn't save a man's life.
Behind her, the Lady Squire heard footsteps. Many of them. She spun around, just in time to come face-to-face with an entire company of the King's Own. She couldn't help but be flattered. An entire company of the Own just to bring her down! Most bandits only got five. She grinned, gently touching George's dagger that was hidden near her lower ribs.
"Sirs, Lords," she smiled at them, her nose crinkling pleasantly.
The Own flared, with one of the elder ones crying out, "Get her!" Alanna knew she couldn't battle them with a single dagger and decided she would somehow have to obtain one of their proper Knight blades. Two men surged forth, twin swords gleaming. Alanna slid right, dodging the Knight to her left. Relying on the thickness of her riding boot, she kicked the sword out of the buttery hands of the Knight to her right. She grabbed it before it fell, holding awkwardly. It had been quite a while since she'd hand a proper sword in her hands. However, her fingers quickly nimbled and remembered where they usually went.
Gripping, tightly, she slashed out at the nearest Knight, wounding him at the shoulder. It was not deep at all but it was enough to sting. From behind her, the Trebond felt a wound open up along the length of her back. She gasped, as the pain became a crutch. She whirled, expecting just another stupid Knight of the Own who had merely gotten lucky. It was Roger who she caught eyes with instead. His sword was still crying her blood from its tip.
"Lady Alanna," the Duke of Conte mock bowed.
Alanna felt the depth of her wound hit her and she weakened slightly. She felt warm blood sliding down her back. Her sword slipped two inches through her hand but she clamped onto it, firmly, resisting it from falling. If she had ever needed to look strong, powerful, and together, it would've been now. Unfortunately, all she was was dirty, tired, and getting weaker by the second.
The Lioness swallowed her sticky saliva in her dry throat and raised her sword. She wasn't going to let a little cut stop her from fighting him. If she never became a Knight, at least she could die knowing that she had been able to slice upon Roger's flesh.
The Conte Duke seemed amused that she even got into the fighting stance, opting that she would've given up. He, however, humored her by doing the same and circling her as she circled him. They caught each other's eyes and Alanna wondered what he'd do to her if he knew she was Alan of Trebond.
Just as one of them, prowled to strike, the door to the landing opened, letting way for the King, Queen, Prince, Duke Gareth, Scanran Contes and the servingman Jakob. Instantly, Roger dropped his sword to his side, bowing, regally.
Alanna hesistated, then as Winfred shot her a look, she also lowered her weapon and curtsied. It was harder to do when you held a sword in one hand. Straightening, she noticed the King and Queen watching her like they didn't quite understand exactly what they were looking at.
"Uncle, I was just-," the Duke of Conte began but was cut off.
"He understands what you were doing," Duke Gareth interrupted, "The only problem seems to be whether or not this young lady is guilty."
"I beg your pardon?" Roger stiffened, his expression blank, though, the Trebond could tell he was displeased.
King Roald took in a deep breath, "Your Aunt Winfred has come forth with some proof that Lady Alanna's intentions posing as the royal Niece were really honorable."
"Honorable? I do not see how that could be. Lest anyone is forgetting, this girl is an imposter who was only trying to win the heart of our dear Jonathan," the sorcceror responded, his voice getting slightly heated.
"We still need to listen to all the evidence before we sentence anyone," Duke Gareth stated, clasping both his hands together in a very stern manner, "I believe this calls for a trial. What say you, Your Majesty?"
"I quite agree. Can we arrange something for tonight if at all possible? The longer this draws out, the more factors we must work in," Roald accorded, studying the disarray of Alanna's gowns, "As for the present, Lady Alanna is as free and noble as any of the rest of us. I hope you may be able to find her proper lodging, Duke Gareth?"
The Lady Squire's sword clanged to the floor. She dropped it, feeling dizzy. The loss of blood was finally taking its toil. She felt her blood-her life's elixir seep to her ankles and drip on the floor, staining it a deep scarlet.
Queen Lianne noticed and gasped, "Great Mother Goddess! Someone get her to a healer!"
No sooner had she said this than Jon had come to Alanna's side, supporting her weight. She let her head loll on his shoulder only a little bit, as she attempted to steer their direction. She felt herself floating in and out of consciousness as the Crown Prince, the Royal Aunt, Niece and Nephew swatted around her, saying things to her that she couldn't decifer.
Alanna sipped her spiced tea, bending over on Thom's or rather, her bed. Her entire upper body had been wrapped in a tight bandage to stop the bleeding. Afterwards, Abigail had offered the Lioness one of her own gowns and she took it, grateful for the change of clothes. The Lady Squire had also washed, her hair sighing in relief at the touch of water.
She took a gulped of her tea and practically regurgitated it back out. The hot liquid had burned her tongue raw. Thom and Faithful sat at across from her at a desk which she had never used as Squire Alan but it seemed her twin frequented a lot.
"Drink slowly. You have time till the trial," her brother soothed her, scratching at a spot behind Faithful's ear.
Alanna nodded, although she couldn't help thinking of this as her last meal. Faithful probably overheard the thought but didn't say anything to comfort her even if he did. The Trebond had to admit she was rather jealous of how close her cat had become with Thom. After all, Faithful was her cat.
'Envy doesn't look good on you,' Faithful purred, his voice laughing.
Thom's face was still blank so Alanna supposed the comment had been directed towards her. She scowled, sticking out her tongue.
'I still love you most,' Faithful responded, jumping off Thom's lap and clamboring onto Alanna's. The Lioness smiled, rubbing his back.
"Do you think George is back at the Dove by now?" the mage twin inquired, if only just to make conversation.
The Lady Squire shrugged, "Nah. He's probably hiding out at Eleni's. He'll return in a couple of days."
"That was quite the escape. From right under the Provost's nose," Thom remarked, thoughtfully, "I wonder how he did it?"
"George's a King of Thieves. He's a sleuth. You can as much as hold him as you can hold water," Alanna replied, rather amazed by the Rogue's escape herself. At least now, no matter what happened, she'd know that he was safe (as safe as a thief can be that is) at the Dancing Dove. Somehow that one thought was about the most comfortingly thing she had thought all day.
"Do you-?" Thom ceased in his tracks as the door to their chambers came open. It was Jon.
"Am I interrupting anything?" he implored, shutting the door behind him.
The twins shook their head in chorus. Alanna grew rigid and nervous. She'd promised herself that if she told anyone the truth about this whole big mess, that'd she'd tell Jon. He was the one that deserved to know the most, after all. But now that she was here, in her squire's quarters, and he was naught but five feet away, it seemed more and more humiliating.
"Well, I came here to tell you that they're calling you to the trial, Alanna," Jonathan explained, leaning against the wall beside Thom.
"Oh?" the Lioness set aside her spiced tea, rising, "I'll head down in a second. First, I have to tell you something."
"Yes?" he pushed himself off the wall, coming closer.
Thom felt horribly embarrassed sitting inbetween them. He cleared his throat and they both glanced down at him. He rose, awkwardly, deciding that no man should have to live through his sister's love life.
"I'll just be out in the hall," he coughed, scurrying out of the room.
Alanna stared pointedly at Faithful to follow, but the feline would not budge. So, it was Alanna, Jonathan and Faithful that sat back down on Squire Alan's bed. The cat curled into the Lioness' lap and she petted him, absent-mindedly. Her Knightmaster did not persist on her rushing to tell him.
"Jon," the Lady Squire's voice was caked and broken from sleepless nights, "I just wanted to say that that I-"
She stopped as she looked up, his dark indigo eyes caught her own and she found that she just couldn't tell him. How could she say those two big L's in a row? What would he think of her?
'After all we've been through, I realized something. I love you. Oh, and I lied to you.'
'You lied to me!'
'Well, I don't love you.'
'After all this, I realized some feelings I have for you too. Hate.'
The scenarios got worse and worse in her mind. Jon's eyebrows furrowed. Apparently, he was getting impatient.
'If I'm so brave,' Alanna wondered to herself, 'Why can't I tell him this?'
'This sort of thing is sometimes scarier than a million bandits,' Faithful consoled.
"You know what," the Trebond finally said, "I'll tell you all this later."
"Alright," he looked disappointed but nonetheless rose from the bed, brushing out the wrinkles in his breeches. He looked back at her, "To the trial then?"
She stood, bobbing her head, "To the trial."
Author's Note: This didn't end where I thought it would. It was supposed to be further along, but I decided against it. I didn't want to cram it all here when I can post it next chapter. So this might mean that instead of one more chapter, it may be two more chapters. My gosh, this story just doesn't want to end. Anyways, I hope you enjoy yourselves and I hope you all review. It reallyy means a lot. Maybe I'll start a new campaign. Instead of P.Diddy's Vote or Die, it'll be winky-wink's Review or Die.
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