Forgotten Dream
by Zenin

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I was a young woman, full of vivacious ideas and mischief. There was nothing I wanted more than to join my brother in battle against the evil foes of my country, (thus gaining honour and glory, of course). I didn't want to go to the convent only to be given away, against my will, to some doddering old man who drooled over his morning porridge. I wanted, for once, to be treated as an equal; and not like I was a side of prime beef, only sold to the highest bidder. There were so many better things to do with life. Like, for instance, trying to escape…
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Sunlight poured into the small valley in streams of molten gold, gilding the tips of the tall pines in the fiery glow of the afternoon. Craggy ridges of dilapidated mountain dipped down to smooth and form the tiny basin…the disregarded fief of Trebond. A village of minuscule proportions spread haphazardly throughout the valley; houses built wherever possible, farms produced on strips of leveled land, shops and tinkers settling themselves in on any noticeable space. The winding main road, having been built after the village, threaded its way through the village in curvaceous snake-like patterns.

Several centuries had passed and several kings had died, but in the latter days Trebond had been well known for its fine weapon designs, textiles, and other useful goods that had been sold and carted to Corus, Tortall's powerful capital. In those days, the Trebond name had been associated with courageous knights, influential lords, and haunting amethyst eyes. Yes, those eyes had been legendary.

Now, however, Trebond was more likely to be associated with…erm…nothing.

In the shadows of an overhanging oak, a slim girl stared bleakly into the depths of the forest that surrounded a small clearing. Sunlight glinted fleetingly against her red hair as she moved slightly, reaching listlessly for an arrow. Her lavender eyes closed wearily and a small sigh escaped her lips as she drew the shaft back on the string.

A twig snapped beyond the small cluster of pines. The young woman's head jerked up and the bow twanged. The arrow whistled shrilly into the bushes…soon followed by a cry of pain.

Alanna of Trebond cursed loudly and notched another arrow to the bow. Her strange eyes seemed almost to glow with frustration as she strode into the underbrush. A man lay on the ground, whimpering as he tried to keep his weight off of his backside, where an arrow was lodged. She ignored his wound and leaned forward, grabbing a fistful of the man's tunic and jerking him to his knees. He sobbed unhappily and struggled to free himself from her gloved hand. Alanna's icy glare silenced him immediately.

"What are you doing here?" she growled.

"P–please don't kill m–me!"

"Damn it all, man! D'you honestly think I'm going to kill you?" snapped Alanna. "If I was going to kill you, I wouldn't have missed!"

The peasants could be so stupid sometimes. It wasn't as if Alanna habitually shot her countrymen every day.

The man tried to wrench himself away again and this time Alanna let him go, watching as the peasant lurched to his feet and stumbled painfully away. The crashing faded into silence as Alanna stood still, fingering her bow and frowning darkly at the bruised plants that marked the peasant's exit.

That was not the first time she had found someone lurking in her private archery ground. She had claimed the small clearing as her own when she was a little girl and everyone knew better than to intrude upon her when she was practicing. Especially when she was practicing. And today it was even more important that people stay away from her. Her temper had been near uncontrollable since the previous night's escapade.

"Alanna."

She spun around quickly, another arrow notched to her bow in readiness, violet eyes narrowed. The intruder lifted large hands, stepping back carefully. "Now, now, lass. What 'ave I told you 'bout pointing weapons at people? 'Don't point unless you mean to kill someone.'"

"And what if I am?"

He ignored her. "And shootin' that man was not in your best interests, if yeh want t' avoid going to the convent. Shootin' him wasn't the best idea anyway, convent or no."

"I've had enough of these trespassers, Coram." Alanna slowly lowered her bow, her eyes fixed on the sergeant-at-arms' face. "Why did you send him anyway? Half of the fief is afraid of me."

It was true. The commoners were afraid of Lord Alan's children. Thom and Alanna's red hair and purple eyes were too different from everyone else. It had been easier to deal with the twins when they were little children, wide-eyed and quiet. But when Thom had left for the palace to become a knight, Alanna had learned how to fight — and she liked fighting. Noblewomen were supposed to be quiet and demure, to like dancing, needlework, and flirtations. Alanna liked swords and archery, and her quick temper made her anything but demure. She seemed to be more demon than human. No normal noblewoman would do stuff like that.

Coram shrugged. "I sent him t' keep an eye on you. And nobody is all that afraid—"

"They just make the sign against evil when they see me, that's all," said Alanna sarcastically.

"Shootin' 'em doesn't help that much."

Alanna lifted her chin defiantly at the guard. "I wasn't even aiming at him," she retorted, "seeing as I didn't even know he was there." She shifted her shoulder slightly to ease the weight of the quiver. "Was there some special reason I needed watching today?"

Coram rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. "It was t' keep yeh from doing anythin' stupid. But I see there's no way of stoppin' that." Alanna clenched her fists and opened her mouth to retort, but he interrupted her. "Besides, I didn't want yeh to try runnin' away again."

"I wasn't running away!" Alanna snapped. "I was…" Her voice trailed away as she searched for the right words.

"Runnin' away," Coram said firmly. "Be reasonable, Alanna."

"Reasonable?" Alanna repeated slowly. Her eyes flashed. "Was it reasonable when you had me beaten, knocked unconscious, and dragged home by ten guards? You call that reasonable, Coram?"

"Erm…"

A strained silence fell between the two as each thought of the previous night's incident. The night had been cool and dark, the new moon a black void in the sky. The last Shang warrior staying in Trebond had set off with his small apprentice, his course keyed for the Yamani islands. Of course, the moment a servant had found the old Shang master's apprentice bound and gagged in the stable, it was only a matter of moments before the fief discovered that the lord's daughter was missing.

Alanna had been a mile down the road before the guards caught up with them. It had taken ten guards to convince the doddering martial arts master that a) he was not being attacked by Scanrans, b) his apprentice was not who he thought it was, and c) "stop fighting, you damn fool!" In the end, Alanna and the Shang had managed to knock out six guards and the remaining four had thumped Alanna into a peacefully unconscious submission.

Needless to say, Lord Alan was not happy.

Coram shrugged uncomfortably. "You fought, so they defended themselves. I told 'em to knock y'out if yeh became too hard t' manage."

"Well they did a very good job," said Alanna bitterly.

"Hostility will get you nowhere, my lady."

The two turned to see the chief healer of Trebond – also one-time nursemaid to Lord Alan's children – brushing twigs and leaves from her skirts. The woman straitened up, disapproval in every line of her face as she gazed, thin-lipped, at her charge.

"Those breeches are indecent, Alanna. The Goddess knows that you'd have a better chance at an enjoyable life if you would simply acknowledge the fact that you are, and always will be, a lady of high degree." The healer held up an arrow that looked suspiciously familiar. "At least, you could be a fine lady if you'd only stop shooting your countrymen every time they try to say hello."

The sarcasm was not lost on the lord's daughter. "Might I remind you, Maude, that it is typical for most humans to greet one to their face, and not their backside?"

Coram could not stop the grin from spreading across his face. "Aye, and a fine greeting yeh gave him, lass."

Maude pocketed the arrow with a sigh. "Your father wishes to speak with you, my lady. In the library."

"Where else would he be?" muttered Alanna. She glanced around the clearing quickly. "I have to gather my arrows and oil my bowstring –"

"One of the servants will do that for you," said Maude firmly. Alanna gave her a deprecating glance and set off at a reluctant run towards the castle of Trebond. Coram watched the girl disappear around a bend in the trail and shook his head.

"I'm startin' to regret teachin' that girl archery."

"Starting?" Maude interrupted snappishly. "You dolt, I've been regretting it every day for the past seven years! If it hadn't been for your teaching, she might have turned out to be a normal young lady."

"A normal, empty-headed young lady like the rest of 'em at that convent of yers," Coram countered.

Her expression turned slightly rueful. "There would be fewer injuries, anyway…"

"All I've done is wake up some of her skills, that's all. 'Sides, it's as the saying goes: yeh can feed a donkey cake, but it won't change the fact that the creature's a donkey."

Maude's lips twitched. "So you think she's an ass?"

"Shut yer mouth, woman."

The lord of Trebond was a slight man, with greying brown hair and serious grey eyes. His face held tinges of former good looks, looks that had pretty much worn away after the death of his beloved wife. Having always been a scholarly man, he threw himself into the working of his fief with fierce dedication. It gave him an excuse to ignore the two small children who had so frighteningly begun to resemble their mother.

Alanna especially looked like his dear wife. Her long, richly red hair and those flashing amethyst eyes… Alianne had had blue eyes, but the shape of Alanna's eyes well matched her mother's.

That was another thing. The twins had purple eyes. That colour had not sprung up in the past nine generations. Lord Terence of Trebond had them, and so had Neviah of Davan, Lord Terence's great-aunt…

Alanna was late. Lord Alan raised his eyes to glance at the door and then lowered them down to the letter before him. Punctuality was important – vital in running a fief smoothly. Hopefully one of the twins would understand this concept while he still lived.

The door opened, admitting a breathless – and muddy – Alanna. She stood before him and bowed stiffly. Lord Alan fastened his eyes on the letter on his desk and acknowledged her presence with a curt nod.

"Lady Alanna," Lord Alan murmured, his voice as dry as ever. "How kind of you to deem my presence worthy enough to arrive promptly."

She was silent. It didn't matter if she was late or not. The lecture he would give her would always remain the same.

"The reply from the temple arrived today," her father began, sliding the missive across the desk to her. "The First Daughter agreed to take you on, despite their misgivings. I have paid them a sufficient amount to keep you in the convent for one year. One year, Alanna, should be enough to fashion you into something faintly resembling a noblewoman of decent heritage. You will be able to enter court society at the normal age: eighteen."

Alanna was silent for a moment. Her father simply folded his hands and watched her, waiting for the outburst that was bound to happen. She didn't keep him waiting long.

"With all due respect, Father," Alanna began, "I'd much rather stay here, where I might be of some help to our fief."

Lord Alan was pleasantly surprised. A diplomatic answer. How nice. "You will be of greatest use in court, Lady Alanna," he replied. "Finding a husband —"

"And keeping out of your way," Alanna finished. Her eyes flashed. "There are other ways of making a living than just marriage."

"Give me an example," Lord Alan challenged. When his daughter was silent, he continued. "You want to become a knight. You've always wanted that. Well, that's impossible, for more than one reason. For one, knighthood is reserved solely for men. Women are too weak, physically and emotionally, to deal with the troubles of war." He paused to sip from his goblet of mulled wine. "Secondly, you do not display the stability that becomes knights. You lose your temper far too often, as was displayed this very afternoon."

"That was an accident!" Alanna cried.

"And do you think a knight would make such an error? A knight's very existence is made by his skill at weaponry and his chivalrous behavior. A knight would not fumble with a bow and accidentally shoot a commoner. A knight would not then blame the commoner for the incident. I understand that you did both."

Lord Alan watched his daughter struggle to control her temper. She was too much like her mother. This was one of the reasons why he wanted her out of his sight. The memories were too painful to bear, even though it had been so long since Alianne's death.

So, as he did once before – seven years ago – he coolly dismissed his daughter. "My decision is final. You will go to the City of the Gods and be placed under the care of the First Daughter for one year. I expect you to uphold the Trebond legacy and act according to your station. I will not tolerate any more of your antics. You are a young lady and shall act as such." His voice was flat as he met Alanna's fierce glare. "You are dismissed."

Alanna stood quickly, her chair almost toppling over in her haste. The look she gave her father before she whirled around and strode to the door stung him worse than any arrow. But he managed just the same to say what was needed to be said.

"Alanna."

The young woman paused in the doorway and slowly turned around. Lord Alan met his daughter's eyes and said, slowly and deliberately:

"I don't want to see you again."

Her eyes darkened. "Then you won't."

She turned abruptly and was gone.

Okay. So there you have it. The third (maybe fourth or fifth) revision of the first chapter. Now, I wasn't quite sure what Alanna's mother was called. I don't think Tamora Pierce ever mentioned her name. So, I figured that it might have been something like Alianne, since it seems to fit so well. (Alanna, in later books, names her sons after her dead father and her dead brother. Where the name Alianne came from is curious…so I've made it the mother's name.)

Also, it's kind of hard to portray the exact emotions that Lord Alan is feeling. He really doesn't want to see his daughter again, and as long as she's married and living happily somewhere else, he'd be pretty happy, too. He also thinks that the whole knight thing is not only ridiculous, but unhealthy for his daughter. So really, if you look at things from his perspective, he's doing what he thinks is right by removing that influence from her life.

And boy, I was having some time of it trying to make him seem like a stern, stubborn, hard, loving, and awful father…all at once. Eee…

Soundtrack (songs I listened to while writing this chapter)

· In Trutina – Charlotte Church

· More to Life – Stacie Orrico

· I Dare You to Move – Switchfoot

· Tomorrow – Avril Lavigne

Zenin