George stood frozen in the hallway, a look of mingled anguish and despair on his still face. Thom unfroze him and he staggered, coughing.

"Why are you lurking in the hallway?" Thom asked.

Attempting nonchalance, George replied, "Oh, you know. Just strolling along. I like to take long walks in the sun…"

"George. Idiot. This is a dimly lit hallway in the Guest Wing of the Palace." Thom frowned. "You weren't conducting business, were you?"

George looked like he had been slapped. "You know full well what I think of doing "business" with you lot. I have just about had it with nobles! One day you'll wake up and I will be gone. Then we'll see how much you need my "business!"

"You're right," Thom conceded. "That was rude of me and I do know you. But you still haven't explained your presence in Celia's doorway."

"Gary said you needed me. When I got here, you two were deep in some sort of magic thing so I decided to wait and see what was up."

Celia spoke for the first time, "So you heard everything?" George nodded. "Maybe you'd like to come in and talk." Again he nodded and followed the reunited siblings into Celia's sitting room.

Nobody wanted to be the one to broach the subject.

Finally, George spoke, "So who are you?"

"I don't know," Celia admitted. "But the Goddess gave me back my memories and thus far, they include the knights, my childhood with Thom, you and the…circumstances…leading up to the loss of my memory."

"George, she was pursued by a man with crazy blue eyes and an orange Gift."

"Our Smiling Friend?"

"The very same."

"Who is your smiling friend?" Celia asked.

"Duke Roger of Conte." George's voice was low, precise and full of unexpressed emotion.

"Roger…" Celia whispered. Again, she was thrown into memory.

Bags on the floor, the Prince hugging his Uncle.
Roger playing with a shiny jewel, Jon staring at it, entranced. The Black City.
Roger binding wax figurines in coils and coils of mesh.
Roger, pulling her out of the sand by her hair.
Roger, screaming at her, demanding answers and kicking her when she had none.
Roger, stroking her cheek, dressing her up and making her dance with him.
Roger, laughing as she screamed "OH GODDESS, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?"
Roger's scream of anger when she spit in his face.
Roger, her tormenter, her enemy, her burden.

And strong arms held her safe again. Large hands stroked her hair softly and a soothing voice whispered gentle nothings in her ear. Celia clung to him as she cried. Memories of her entire life roared through her, stripping away Celia's layers of protections and revealing Alanna's wounds beneath.

A/N:

Happy Holidays, children. I got an Xbox 360. How about you?

-Klehmenteen.