After rereading the Immortals series for, what, the thirtieth time? I was bored, so I looked at my old work… And challenged myself. What can I do that three years ago I could not, with my writing? Shall we see? Let us compare what I thought was a one-shot – oh, naïve, young me of days long gone, it was little more than a drabble! – with what I believe could be considered a one-shot now.

So, how much have I changed in my writing since my first bit of fanfiction? Look for yourself.

The girl on the bed was sweating with a fever. Her brown curls were brushed to the side of her red face, and she looked so very at peace as she half-slept.

The man sitting nearby looked at her longingly. He knew he loved her as if love were a fever itself, and he hated himself for it. She was young, he was old. He shouldn't be messing with a girl who barely knows that part of the world yet. But he couldn't rid himself of the feeling.

He had a thought. I never want to lose her, in love or because she's my student. He brushed her hair lovingly, so glad she was too sick to notice. In another thought, he carefully plucked a delicate little curl of hers and kissed it lightly. He whispered, and a little locket appeared. He opened it and put the curl in the little hook.

I'll always be able to find her, in my dreams and in life.

But will I find her in my heart?

(Written April 17, 2006 – 173 words)

Watching Daine's flushed face, Numair reflected silently. Her messy curls were mangled from her tossing and turning, but right now she was at peace. The dark strands fell around her face, outlining her creamy skin where it wasn't red with fever. She breathed in and out deeply, sleeping with only a slight hitch in her breath. Occasionally, she might cough once her twice without stirring. She would not wake. The King's Champion herself, allowing no average healer to see to the wild-mage's sickness, had put Daine into a sleep. While returning to Corus, travel would tax her body, but there was no choice.

"You're worried, aren't you?" Alanna had asked as she left the tent.

"She's my student," he mumbled back. His eyes were fixed on Daine still. "And we're dealing with a possibly volatile ailment originating from immortals, about which the only written records of them are from centuries ago. For all we know, Daine may be in serious trouble, even if this Unicorn Fever looks simple enough."

"I already told you, she'll be fine," she replied curtly. "Just let her rest. Stay if you must, but it's better to just leave her and hope that the fever sweats itself out. We can reach the capital soon, where she can have the entire hospital wing at her side. Our Daine will be fine without you needing to be with her the entire time, and it wouldn't be like her to let a simple fever get in the way of defending Tortall."

Not to be swayed, he repeated, "I'll stay."

The Lioness relaxed. Numair, still watching Daine alone, didn't see her small smile. "Fine, then," she said gruffly, leaving to the dark night.

With Alanna's departure, Numair had sighed, sinking back in his chair. Common sense told him that Alanna was completely correct in her reasoning, but he couldn't help but worry. Daine was more important to him than anybody could ever know. Even just the possibility of her being taken away from him scared him witless. To be honest, he had been aware of that for a long time, but never was it so clear to him than now.

In Midwinter, the barrier between the realms had fallen. Every human with magic in the realm had jumped and woken immediately in surprise. Daine had not been an exception. It was then, thinking about her, that he had realized just how deeply his feelings for her reached. Their student-teacher bond was strong, but until that moment Numair had never noticed that he thought so much of Daine. Before he had known it, he was in love with a girl fourteen years his junior.

The age gap was simply impossible. They couldn't make it work out. She was inexperienced in matters of the heart, and if he gave his affections to her, she would readily accept, being naively unable to know the difference between love and adoration. There was every reason to ignore her, every reason to bury these feelings and never allow them to surface.

But this devotion to her wouldn't go away. It was nearly as persistent as the fever she suffered from at this very moment.

Numair snapped back into reality hearing Daine mumble something in her sleep. "New… Good, Ma… Miss you… Mare… No! Don't…"

She was having a dream, or maybe a nightmare judging by those last few words. Smiling softly, the mage leaned towards her and placed a hand on her delicate shoulder. "Shush, magelet," he murmured. "It's fine. Just rest. I'll be here."

Daine calmed down, and placed a small hand over his. "Warm," she mumbled again. Then she was quiet, sleeping soundly once more. After a few moments, he slipped his hand out of her grip. It was not done without reluctance.

No, he couldn't lose her. Not here, not ever. Perhaps he was a fool, and perhaps a sinner for loving one who was still only a girl, but he wanted her at his side, with or without love. Moved by this thought, Numair whispered a word in Old Thak. The powerful mages who spoke the language, favoring its obscurity for their spells, would recognize it as the word for beloved. He didn't have to whisper it – simply thinking it would do to release the spell - but he was looking at Daine as he said it, silently wishing to himself that she could be his.

Upon his wrist appeared an oval locket on a golden-chain. Shortly after the fall of the barrier, he had asked Volney Rain, the painter at the court, a favor. The man was delighted by the request, and by the money offered if no questions were asked. The portrait was made; he purchased the locket. With a magic to make the locket invisible without the certain word to release it, he placed the miniature portrait inside. Whenever they parted, forced to separate for the sake of the war, Numair would have it. When alone he would hold it tight, praying to the gods for her safety.

Numair plucked a lock of hair from the back of her head, a small and unnoticeable curl. He knew what he would do with this. There was an old magic, using a focus, that would allow one to find any person if necessary. This lock would serve as a focus, if he ever needed it. He fiercely hoped such a time would not come when he was forced to use such measures. Such a focus, directly taken from Daine's person, could be dangerous in the wrong hands – a particularly skilled mage would find it no trouble to control Daine's mind and body with it. Numair never intended to use this focus, but this would allow him to follow her even to the Black God's realm if necessary. Without hesitation, he would do just that.

He brought the lock to his lips, kissing it briefly, before he tucked it behind the clip on the side of the locket without Daine's portrait. There, hidden, it would stay. Sighing, he shut the locket once more, and put the bracelet on. It vanished instantly.

There was a content smile at his lips as he gazed upon Daine's soft face once more. Was it just wishes twisting his vision, or did she appear to be less flushed than before? Perhaps her fever would break soon. He could be wrong, but nevertheless hope swelled within him.

"Numair," Daine mumbled in her sleep. "Still… here?"

"Always," he promised. Daine, I truly love you. As long as I live, I'll stay by your side.

A moment later she whispered, "I'm glad," and returned to the world of the Dream King.

The next morning, Alanna returned to the tent to check up on her patient. She grinned. Daine, looking much better, was still asleep, which was no surprise. Numair, on the other hand, was. He had fallen asleep in his makeshift chair, using Daine's bed as a pillow. He was grasping her hand in one of his as he slept.

Perhaps a checkup wasn't necessary. Whistling a tune, the Lioness went to find her mirror. The King would be glad to learn that the wild-mage was going to be fine.

(Written April 17, 2009 – 1200 words)