I'M CHASING RAINBOW'S END, I'M FIGHTING THE WEATHERMAN

Two weeks passed. Two weeks of nothingness. It became awkward for almost everyone, but most were too scared to say anything. Jonathan seemed frustrated all the time, his eyebrows knit together. Those who wished to ignore such turmoil in Court forced themselves to believe he was stressed. Alanna stormed about, clearly unhappy, and disappeared for long periods of time. Her friends knew she went into the city to see George, or occasionally Olau when she really needed to leave. Many were frightened to annoy her – they saw what she had done to Duke Roger. Her twin was the only one who dared antagonize her in front of anyone, and she would glare at him and threaten bodily harm.

But that same twin had a soft spot for his sister. While he was a jerk to everyone else, he was sweet to Alanna. She could not cry to him as she did to George, but he was there to coax her into a better temperament. They spent hours pouring over books from Trebond, looking for ways to improve their home fief. Thom knew nothing about running it, so Alanna taught him what she knew, and he shared some of his magical knowledge with her.

Alanna introduced Thayet and George and immediately regretted it. The thief became infatuated with the beautiful woman, and Alanna felt she lost her best friend and potential lover. George had loved her for years, possibly before Jonathan even knew she was a girl. And, after Thayet, it seemed he no longer loved her that way.

One night, when they were alone, she said as much. "So, when are you going to officially propose?" she asked sarcastically.

George snapped from his reverie. "What?"

"You heard me." She took a sip from her lemonade, wishing just a little that it were something stronger. "When are you and Thayet going to be married?"

"I can't marry her," George insisted. "A lass like that…"

"You're a king in your way." He eyed her and she smiled. "Oh, please. You think she would blink twice at marrying you? She's a princess without a homeland now, so she has no throne."

George shook his head. "Never thought I'd see th' day Alanna the Lioness tried t' play matchmaker."

"I'm not playing matchmaker. I am simply making an observation." George didn't deign her with a response. Alanna needed to see two people happy. I guess this is what I get for learning to love, she thought bitterly. I get my heart broken and then watch my best friend fall in love with someone else. After everything else she'd been through, why had the Goddess let her go down this particular path? Sometimes, she wondered if life wouldn't be easier if she'd never been born at all.

The coronation could not come fast enough. All these preparations were giving him a headache. Jonathan closed the book he was attempting to read and rubbed his temples with a sigh. Everything seemed to be giving him headaches these days. He could easily dull the pain, but then the ache started elsewhere, an ache no magic in the world could fix. Before his mind could wander there, he shoved her violet eyes from his head. "No," he muttered. "No, no."

But the images came anyway. Just moments. He closed his eyes and allowed them to play out on his eyelids – their fight with the Ysandir, her clothes disappearing, the sound of her voice as she pulled him back from death itself, rescuing her in Tusaine, holding her hair as she vomited, their first kiss in his tent during the war… moments both good and bad passed through his memory, and he could see them as if they happened yesterday. He saw the fear in her violet eyes that night of her seventeenth birthday, he saw her standing over Roger's body, a mixture of complex emotions. He saw the love in her eyes when he met her in the desert; he saw her concern after his Rite of the Voice. He saw her smiling, he saw her crying, he saw her angry, he saw her fighting, he saw her as Alan, as Alanna, and as the Lioness. He saw her as the girl she once was, he saw her as the woman she was becoming. He saw her - his best friend, and the love of his life.

Shaking his head to clear it, he opened his eyes and saw it was nearly sundown. Calmly, he locked the door. It was time for the Moment of the Voice, something he needed to be alone and focused for. Even on the nights when he just wanted to work so he could sleep at a reasonable time, he knew he had to fulfill his duty to the Bazhir. Settling cross-legged on the bed, Jonathan quieted his thoughts and allowed his people into his mind.

She paced around her room like the cat on her shield. This was getting ridiculous. She was tired of not talking to her best friend; she was tired of waking up crying. And she was especially tired of seeing Jon. She needed to get this over with. They needed to work past it or decide they had reached an impasse. But they could not continue on like this. She felt her temper being to boil, and made the impulsive decision to storm to his chambers, which weren't far from her own. (Intentional when he thought she would be coming home to be his betrothed, and the arrangement hadn't been changed.)

She knocked on the door. "Jon!" she called. "It's Alanna. Open the door." There was no answer. "Jon!" She tried the knob. It was locked. Of course it was. She turned on her heel and began to walk away, but something stopped her. She glanced out the window and saw that the sun was setting. The Moment of the Voice. She had seen it, but never participated. She could not imagine giving anyone, especially Jon, that much of her. But maybe… maybe this time it was worth it.

The Lioness returned to her chambers and lit a fire. She settled down, hoping she could join properly. She was coming in a bit late, after all, and she was trying this for the first time on her own, not surrounded by fellow tribes-people. Suddenly, it was like she lost her body. She knew it was there, but her mind was free floating. She could see Jonathan, but she couldn't touch him. She saw his peaceful face. "What troubles you?" he asked in his deep voice. She felt a shiver of pleasure at the sound. She missed his voice. A hand stretched out and she took it, emptying her mind of all her fears and concerns – from the spiders living in the corner of her room, to meeting expectations, to her lingering fear of the dead Duke of Conté… finally, her mind slipped to Jonathan. She could not read his expression when her thoughts about him entered him. Will he know this when it's over? She wondered, unsure of what she wanted the answer to be.

Slowly but surely, the Moment came to an end. Alanna opened her eyes, consumed with the fear that Jonathan would know how she felt… but an even bigger part feared he wouldn't.

As far as I know, there's nothing specific about the Moment of the Voice in the books. If I have misrepresented something, feel free to let me know (politely), and I'll do what I can to remedy it. I already know how this is going to end, but I will try not to rush. New story up! I'm on break for a bit, so I'll try to update as much as I can. Also, I have committed to college, so I can now let the senioritis overtake me. Thanks for the reviews and support!