Time for me to get rid of major writer's block I had on this story. The war. Joran was there, obviously, but did nothing particularly interesting. So I finally decided to just skip it for the most part.

In War, and In Love

Joran met his father at the Temple the day after he'd met Polgara.

"How have things been with you, son?" his father asked.

"Quite fine actually," Joran replied. "Did Lady Polgara come see you yesterday?"

"She did, yes," he said. "We spent all day recording her story about our king's ancestors. I'll contact the recorders at Sendaria, Cherek, Drasnia and Algaria for further confirmation before putting it down, but her story was quite helpful. How did you manage to tell her about the Rivan Codex so that she comes here instead of simply going to the royal Library at the Citadel?"

Joran told him the whole story, starting with his meeting with the Keeper of the Orb.

"So you truly are the Clearer," his father said. His mood, however, was quite grim due to the war that everyone knew was coming. Joran tried to ease it, saying that Belgarion was trying to find a way to stop the war altogether. It did not help, though. "I've read the prophecies, Joran," the Deacon said grimly. "The Keeper will be in enormous danger."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Joran asked.

"Only pray that he succeeds in whatever way he chooses to do what he must," the Deacon said quietly. "The choice he makes as Child of Light, Keeper of the Orb, Overlord of the West, King of Riva, sorcerer and, of course, Belgarion the man – all those at once – is his alone to make. It would only complicate matters if we were to interfere with his decision in any way."

That night Joran slept poorly. He gave up trying to sleep well before sunrise. He had no particular goal in mind, but he headed towards the harbor. He saw three men from the distance, obviously preparing to leave. Curiously Joran walked closer. Once he was close enough to recognize them, he stopped. One of them was Belgarion. So he had made his choice, and those two were to go with him. Joran didn't dare to even approach them. He only watched as they boarded a ship and the ship sailed away. "Good luck," he said quietly and returned to the glassmaker's shop.

The uproar up at the Citadel was certainly not quiet. "So that's why you left quietly at night," Joran thought to himself. He was now convinced that his decision not to approach them had been the right one.

There were still some dreams – one of them showed him a wolf. That was something he decided to make, though he did not understand what the wolf had to do with anything. And then they were off to war anyway.

Joran was present when Brand told them they were going, more to assist his father in funerals than anything else.

"Despite king Belgarion going out to stop the war before it starts?" the Rivan Deacon asked when he heard of the war call.

"They say it's to distract the Angaraks off his path," Brand said. "And she claims the engagement agreement on joint throne gives her the right to lead us. They're not married yet!"

The Deacon chuckled. "And you can't tell the other monarchs what to do regardless," he said. "I suppose the other Alorn kings just let her be their figurehead?"

"Something like that, yes," Brand said. "Perhaps that's what she'll be later. You know the laws and traditions as well as I. The Rivan King may step down and pass the Sword, and with it all the power – to his heir. Irongrip did that, and all his sons did the same until the death of king Gorek. It's just the question – if the sword has all the power, what's left for things like throne and crown?"

"Good point," the Deacon agreed. "Our king merely offered her a seat by his side. Perhaps it's best to keep her ignorant of that fact until after the marriage, though."

"The sword in our banner and how the sword was placed above the throne should make that rather obvious though," Brand said.

"Not to her, apparently." the Deacon said.

The war, brutal as it was – had finally ended – but Joran didn't feel like celebrating. It was like the Universe was filled with sadness. Even the sight of king Belgarion with the sword didn't lift his spirits.

The days after were grim, they had won the war. Belgarion was named the Godslayer as he turned eighteen, the customary naming since before the world was broken. Joran had been invited to the royal wedding. He and Torell went gladly – Joran decided to give the glass wolf as a wedding gift.

"Curious," Father said quietly after the official ceremony officiated by the Gorim of Ulgo, while the Orb's glow surrounded the couple. "The glow went over both of them. I suppose the Orb gave its blessing."

"Yes," Joran agreed. "And apparently king Belgarion listens to the Orb, not the Gorim."

"As the Keeper should," Father approved.

Most of them began to talk about coming children now that their king was properly wed. Joran's Father didn't think the heir would arrive anytime soon, however.

"She does not yet understand the duty to the Orb her husband bears," he said. "Until she does, there will be no children."

Joran grimaced, but he understood the truth of his father's words. But neither of them wished to disturb the party with such grim visions. The grand sadness after the war was gone; the royal wedding showed hope for the future.