Post by Muse on May 16, 2013 10:23:46 GMT 10
Title: Burning Darkly
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 799
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: They become a part of the Bazhir, a part of the tribe, and history turns down a different path. Roger-legitimately-King AU, with reference to canon-character-death.
Note: I may be totally, completely in love with this AU. Post-Smackdown, this is totally being expanded.
Whistles relayed around the Bazhir camp, and Alanna recognized the pattern for “Strangers sighted”. When the signal “all clear” didn’t follow behind, Alanna straightened from the tangled mess she’d created on her loom and headed for Halef Seif’s tent.
“What’s going on?” she asked the men gathered in the front of the tent, and Ali Mukhtab, leaning heavily on Jon’s shoulder, blinked sleepily at them. “It is the northern king,” he stated. “He has sent his men here.”
Jon stiffened. “Roger? Why would he—“
“We took this from the men sent by the northern king,” Halef held out a scroll dripping with royal blue ribbon and the royal crest. “They will be released with your reply, on condition that they do not return. We do not welcome warriors of the northern king.”
Jon scanned the missive before handing it to Alanna.
Cousin Jonathan,
It has come to our attention that your attempts at diplomacy with the barbarian races of the Great Southern Desert have not yielded the required results anticipated as of our last Council Meeting.
As such, your duties as current heir to the throne eclipse those that you have taken upon yourself, and your presence is required in Corus at your earliest possible convenience.
Cordially yours,
King Roger and Queen Fazia of Conte
“What does he think you’ve been doing all this time?” Alanna asked scathingly. She made as though to hand the parchment back to Jon, but he scowled so venomously that she simply dropped it.
“All Roger wants is to complete King Jasson’s conquest of Tortallan territory,” Jon said, “He has no care or love of any culture but one that pays him homage.”
Ali laid a hand on Jon’s arm. “And this is why it is a great thing, to have the Night One as our next Voice.” He paused, and then bowed to Alanna. “And to have the Burning Brightly one as a brother at arms.”
Alanna shrugged. “I’m needed here,” she gestured to the tents of the Bloody Hawk, “and not there.” As if on cue, Kara, Kourrem, and Ishak came bubbling out of a nearby tent, shrieking and laughing as they tried to explain something to Alanna all at once. “And duty calls—“
She allowed herself to be tugged away, and Jon and Ali slowly became the only men standing with Halef Seif.
“What will you tell your cousin, the king?” Halef asked mildly, glancing to where the sand of the desert had already started to cover the missive.
“At my earliest convenience,” Jon reflected. “Now is not convenient for me, wouldn’t you agree?”
Ali flashed a quick, white-toothed grin, something that was becoming more and more rare as his health began to fail him. “You are a diplomatic man, Jonathan of the Bloody Hawk.”
***
”The path you are undertaking is no easy road, Jonathan of Conte. Will you walk this road, and all that it brings you, no matter where it leads?
The voice of Ali Mukhtab, the four hundred and fourteenth Voice of the Tribes, echoes through Jon’s head, the memory as clear as the day Jon heard the words spoken. The shift in perspective is disorienting still, because Jon remembers both saying and not saying those words simultaneously, but he’s getting better at keeping the memory-lives and the current lives of the Tribes separate from the being that is Jonathan, Voice of the Tribes.
Alanna rides up, gold armor on a gold steed, her helm strapped to the back of her saddle so her bright hair is visible. It’s become something of a symbol for the Bazhir, and reluctant or not, Alanna knows the necessity of keeping morale up.
“Are the other tribes ready?” Alanna leans over, legs hooked into the straps on her Bazhir saddle as naturally as though she’d been born to sun and sand. Bracing a hand on Alanna’s thigh, Jon opens his senses.
At once, the clamoring of a thousand voices fills Jon’s mind, until he can control the “sounds” enough to pick out the one that belongs to Amman Kemail. The head of the Sunset Dragon tribe was succinct, and Jon leapt between the other leaders of the Tribes.
Opening his eyes, Jon looked at her. “We are ready, Burning Brightly One.”
Alanna nodded, Moonlight dancing on her toes. “The Bloody Hawk is ready, Night One, and so am I.”
Together, they turn to where the dark shadow of the Northern King reaches his hand out into the desert. They only have so much time before the army arrives.
And this is why you will be great, Jonathan of the Bloody Hawk. The Night One and the Burning Brightly One will unite the Children of the Sand, and you will bring the Bazhir into a new era. Barzun will rise.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 799
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: They become a part of the Bazhir, a part of the tribe, and history turns down a different path. Roger-legitimately-King AU, with reference to canon-character-death.
Note: I may be totally, completely in love with this AU. Post-Smackdown, this is totally being expanded.
Whistles relayed around the Bazhir camp, and Alanna recognized the pattern for “Strangers sighted”. When the signal “all clear” didn’t follow behind, Alanna straightened from the tangled mess she’d created on her loom and headed for Halef Seif’s tent.
“What’s going on?” she asked the men gathered in the front of the tent, and Ali Mukhtab, leaning heavily on Jon’s shoulder, blinked sleepily at them. “It is the northern king,” he stated. “He has sent his men here.”
Jon stiffened. “Roger? Why would he—“
“We took this from the men sent by the northern king,” Halef held out a scroll dripping with royal blue ribbon and the royal crest. “They will be released with your reply, on condition that they do not return. We do not welcome warriors of the northern king.”
Jon scanned the missive before handing it to Alanna.
Cousin Jonathan,
It has come to our attention that your attempts at diplomacy with the barbarian races of the Great Southern Desert have not yielded the required results anticipated as of our last Council Meeting.
As such, your duties as current heir to the throne eclipse those that you have taken upon yourself, and your presence is required in Corus at your earliest possible convenience.
Cordially yours,
King Roger and Queen Fazia of Conte
“What does he think you’ve been doing all this time?” Alanna asked scathingly. She made as though to hand the parchment back to Jon, but he scowled so venomously that she simply dropped it.
“All Roger wants is to complete King Jasson’s conquest of Tortallan territory,” Jon said, “He has no care or love of any culture but one that pays him homage.”
Ali laid a hand on Jon’s arm. “And this is why it is a great thing, to have the Night One as our next Voice.” He paused, and then bowed to Alanna. “And to have the Burning Brightly one as a brother at arms.”
Alanna shrugged. “I’m needed here,” she gestured to the tents of the Bloody Hawk, “and not there.” As if on cue, Kara, Kourrem, and Ishak came bubbling out of a nearby tent, shrieking and laughing as they tried to explain something to Alanna all at once. “And duty calls—“
She allowed herself to be tugged away, and Jon and Ali slowly became the only men standing with Halef Seif.
“What will you tell your cousin, the king?” Halef asked mildly, glancing to where the sand of the desert had already started to cover the missive.
“At my earliest convenience,” Jon reflected. “Now is not convenient for me, wouldn’t you agree?”
Ali flashed a quick, white-toothed grin, something that was becoming more and more rare as his health began to fail him. “You are a diplomatic man, Jonathan of the Bloody Hawk.”
***
”The path you are undertaking is no easy road, Jonathan of Conte. Will you walk this road, and all that it brings you, no matter where it leads?
The voice of Ali Mukhtab, the four hundred and fourteenth Voice of the Tribes, echoes through Jon’s head, the memory as clear as the day Jon heard the words spoken. The shift in perspective is disorienting still, because Jon remembers both saying and not saying those words simultaneously, but he’s getting better at keeping the memory-lives and the current lives of the Tribes separate from the being that is Jonathan, Voice of the Tribes.
Alanna rides up, gold armor on a gold steed, her helm strapped to the back of her saddle so her bright hair is visible. It’s become something of a symbol for the Bazhir, and reluctant or not, Alanna knows the necessity of keeping morale up.
“Are the other tribes ready?” Alanna leans over, legs hooked into the straps on her Bazhir saddle as naturally as though she’d been born to sun and sand. Bracing a hand on Alanna’s thigh, Jon opens his senses.
At once, the clamoring of a thousand voices fills Jon’s mind, until he can control the “sounds” enough to pick out the one that belongs to Amman Kemail. The head of the Sunset Dragon tribe was succinct, and Jon leapt between the other leaders of the Tribes.
Opening his eyes, Jon looked at her. “We are ready, Burning Brightly One.”
Alanna nodded, Moonlight dancing on her toes. “The Bloody Hawk is ready, Night One, and so am I.”
Together, they turn to where the dark shadow of the Northern King reaches his hand out into the desert. They only have so much time before the army arrives.
And this is why you will be great, Jonathan of the Bloody Hawk. The Night One and the Burning Brightly One will unite the Children of the Sand, and you will bring the Bazhir into a new era. Barzun will rise.