A/N... I just want to say hi to all my old reviewers...my first story in a while. Since I've become a bit bored with Alanna and George after the end of their books, here comes Daine and Numair! I'm hyper right now due to my happiness at the arrival of my "Mrs. George Cooper" t-shirt, so excuse my super-strangeness! Bon Appetite! (In other words, devour my story!)
As Numair and Daine walked down the incline towards their friends, they were silent. Added to the relief of holding their loved ones close to them was the looming threat of disapproval from their comrades.
They finally reached Onua and the rest and gratefully accepted the bread and water that was offered to them. They sat down on the ground and devoured the bread in what must have been less than a second, leaving the others staring, dumbfounded, at them. Numair and Daine glanced at each other, trying to fight the laughter bubbling up in their throats. Unfortunately, even the only Wildmage and most powerful mage in the world were incapable of stopping the uncontrollable urge to roll on the ground, shaking violently in giggles, and so they did. Just that sight was enough to cause all the most powerful nobles and warriors to do the same, reminding everyone of why we love Tortall so much.
The group of intensely strange Tortallans stopped rolling over each other and giggling contagiously when their lovely and wonderful sovereign(a/n anyone catch the sarcasm?) came up to them carrying a scroll with a worried expression.
"Daine and Numair?" he said, frowning. "I regret to tell you this, but... they need you. At the Swoop. Some Stormwings are revolting, extremely, and they're convinced only you two can stop them."
Onua protested. "But they're not nearly strong enough! They need to rest for at least a week!"
"It's mandatory!" replied Jonathon.
Numair smiled sadly. "It's okay. We'll manage."
He smiled at Daine, and she smiled back. The others looked confused, like they knew that they were not being told something, but they let it alone...for the moment, at least.
"Well, if you don't mind, me and Daine need to rest tonight, at least. We will see you tomorrow morning."
They walked off, holding hands, and Jonathon called after them, "Bear in mind that it's an extremely dangerous mission!"
"Nice one, mister let them be calm," muttered Alanna. Jonathon didn't hear her and walked off, humming something sounding curiously like the song played for young children at the fair.
Numair, after a quick wash in the stream, was dressed in his bedclothes and tucked between the sheets on his cot when his tent flap was pulled open. About to let loose some magic, he recognized Daine and smiled. He stood up and walked over to her.
"What brings you here?" he asked, kissing her lightly on the lips.
"Something that only you can help me with. I can't sleep."
Numair frowned. "What, nightmares? I can easily fix that, would you like a potion or a charm?" he replied, moving toward his bags, which were stocked with magical herbs."
Daine grabbed his arm. "No, I think the problem is that I'm not with you."
Numair realized then and took her hand. He led her over to his cot, where they both sat down. "Well, I don't think we can properly sleep in the same tent without people starting rumors."
"Since when have we avoided rumors, you and I? Please?" Daine, perhaps from her experience in the role, had a strange talent for the puppy- dog pout, which was especially useful for use with Numair, who couldn't go against her in the first place.
"But my cot isn't nearly large enough for the both of us," replied Numair, starting on the logical factors of his resistance.
"I'm sure we'll manage."
Numair sighed with a mocking exasperation. "You win, as always."
"What else did you expect?" replied Daine, smiling.
Numair shook his finger at her playfully and made her stand up so that he could lie down. "Well, find a place to sleep." he said.
Daine suddenly had an idea. She smiled playfully. "Oh, I will," she replied, lying right on top of him. In most times, Numair would have considered this an uncomfortable position, but Daine was small, plus it was comforting just to be near her. Both of our favorite mages drifted off that night with smiles on their faces, content to be together.
George was woken the next morning by a frantic Alanna.
"Daine isn't in her tent!" she yelled, worried tremendously. "I went in there to get her up, and her cot was empty. It was cold, too, so no one could have slept there recently.
"Calm down, Alanna. We'll find her. Let's start by waking up Numair."
Alanna frowned, shaking her head. "No, don't wake Numair. He'd use up more magic than he can afford to lose, trying to find her. We'll wake up the rest."
So all the people of their group were shaken out of their slumbers to search for Daine. After an hour of search, George spoke up.
"Enough of this, already! I'm going to wake up Numair, he can find her," he cried, walking toward Numair's tent.
"Where else could she be?" asked Jon, looking devastated. "We need her to fight those Stormwings!"
"Shut the hell up, Jonathon!" yelled Alanna furiously. "Is that really the only damn thing you care about? Daine is our friend, your h-"
"Uh... everyone?" came George's voice from the opening to Numair's tent. He sounded amused. "You might want to have a look at this..."
"What could be so damn funny about Numair's t-" Alanna's voice drifted off as she looked inside the tent.
"Not so much the tent, but who's inside the tent," replied George to Alanna's unfinished question.
Numair and Daine woke to the faces of many amused nobles. Daine, realizing her position, blushed and sat up, slowly edging off of the cot. Numair, still half asleep, grumbled as her warmth left, and was sitting up to pull her back when he saw the many faces staring at him.
"Get a room!" jeered George, jokingly.
"That's what this was, before you decided to come in." mumbled Numair, definitely not the morning person.
"How 'bout we give you both ten minutes to prepare yourselves and then we get some questions answered." said Alanna with authority, clearly not expecting an answer.
The nobles had the good breeding to step a few feet away from the tent before erupting in laughter.