Post by Muse on Jun 1, 2013 22:18:56 GMT 10
Title: Eight Years
Rating: PG
Word Count: 645
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: Alanna manages to make it to her knighthood.
The door to the Chamber swings open slowly, and Alanna stumbled through it. Just outside, Jon catches her, whispering, “Congratulations, Alan,” in her ear.
Despite what the Chamber showed her, despite the nightmares it made her live through, she’s made it through eight years with her secret intact. The bindings under her shirt catch when she takes a deep breath, but the price was worth it.
Exhausted, Alanna allows Jon to steer her out of the hall and back to her room, attached to his by a door that locks from her side. Without removing any of her clothes, sweat soaked as they are, Alanna collapses on her bed and swats Jon’s hands when he moves as if to help her.
***
The Black City wakes her up in a cold sweat even after they return to Persopolis. Alanna shoves a pillow over her head and tries to will herself back to sleep, because the dream is not real.
There was a moment, in the fight, when she felt claws on her mind before the Ysandir began to laugh. A sensation like ice water down her spine shook her, and Alanna knew, somehow, someway, the Ysandir had pulled her biggest secret out of her head.
“Look at who your friend really—“
Alanna leaps forward, dragging Jon by the hand, and cuts down the woman who speaks before she can complete the gesture she’s contorting her hands into.
“Good thinking, Alan,” Jon pants, sending up a wall of sapphire between them.
Her secret remained unspoken.
***
She’s really screwed when she wakes up on the wrong side of the river in Tusaine. The other men with her groan and stir, and panic settles in her stomach, low and fluttering.
The lock picks work on their shackles. Hiding behind the door, they immobilize the guards with Hilam when they come for her.
“Go!” Alanna barks, rushing at the Duke to wrap her chains around his throat, tackling him to the ground with the effort.
They don’t look back.
The spell on the metal binding her fades with the life of the caster, and Alanna meets her knight master at the edge of the river.
She isn’t proud of the name she earns by her actions, but at least she’s still Squire Alan, and not a disgrace.
***
Alanna knows far more about Jon than she wants to, and somewhat connected, more about Delia than she ever needed to.
It doesn’t help when Jon forgets to close the door between their rooms.
…Or the fact that they were supposed to meet and go over supply and logistics in the evening.
Alanna vows to remember to knock, always, even if Jon mocks her for it. This isn’t worth it. Ever.
Suddenly, she’s tired of the charade and tired of nights like this and tired of thoughts about how fit Jon looks—
She stops the thought right there.
George will drink with her. She grabs her cloak.
***
She doesn’t even wait a full twenty four hours to fight her first duel as a knight, and Alanna finds herself glaring across crossed blade at Roger.
She’s waited for this for years.
He scowls and lunges, muscling her arm out of the way and coming in straight towards her. She has no time to throw up a defense, and she hopes that the desperate hop backwards is enough to carry her out of range.
It’s not.
The blade slows, snagging on the stiff ribs of the corset she wears before tearing through and all the way down her torso.
It slides from beneath her ruined shirt, and Roger’s eyes bug out.
His aren’t the only ones.
Jon stares, white faced, swallows hard, and takes a step to stand behind his father.
Slowly, Alanna turns to face the Court.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 645
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: Alanna manages to make it to her knighthood.
The door to the Chamber swings open slowly, and Alanna stumbled through it. Just outside, Jon catches her, whispering, “Congratulations, Alan,” in her ear.
Despite what the Chamber showed her, despite the nightmares it made her live through, she’s made it through eight years with her secret intact. The bindings under her shirt catch when she takes a deep breath, but the price was worth it.
Exhausted, Alanna allows Jon to steer her out of the hall and back to her room, attached to his by a door that locks from her side. Without removing any of her clothes, sweat soaked as they are, Alanna collapses on her bed and swats Jon’s hands when he moves as if to help her.
***
The Black City wakes her up in a cold sweat even after they return to Persopolis. Alanna shoves a pillow over her head and tries to will herself back to sleep, because the dream is not real.
There was a moment, in the fight, when she felt claws on her mind before the Ysandir began to laugh. A sensation like ice water down her spine shook her, and Alanna knew, somehow, someway, the Ysandir had pulled her biggest secret out of her head.
“Look at who your friend really—“
Alanna leaps forward, dragging Jon by the hand, and cuts down the woman who speaks before she can complete the gesture she’s contorting her hands into.
“Good thinking, Alan,” Jon pants, sending up a wall of sapphire between them.
Her secret remained unspoken.
***
She’s really screwed when she wakes up on the wrong side of the river in Tusaine. The other men with her groan and stir, and panic settles in her stomach, low and fluttering.
The lock picks work on their shackles. Hiding behind the door, they immobilize the guards with Hilam when they come for her.
“Go!” Alanna barks, rushing at the Duke to wrap her chains around his throat, tackling him to the ground with the effort.
They don’t look back.
The spell on the metal binding her fades with the life of the caster, and Alanna meets her knight master at the edge of the river.
She isn’t proud of the name she earns by her actions, but at least she’s still Squire Alan, and not a disgrace.
***
Alanna knows far more about Jon than she wants to, and somewhat connected, more about Delia than she ever needed to.
It doesn’t help when Jon forgets to close the door between their rooms.
…Or the fact that they were supposed to meet and go over supply and logistics in the evening.
Alanna vows to remember to knock, always, even if Jon mocks her for it. This isn’t worth it. Ever.
Suddenly, she’s tired of the charade and tired of nights like this and tired of thoughts about how fit Jon looks—
She stops the thought right there.
George will drink with her. She grabs her cloak.
***
She doesn’t even wait a full twenty four hours to fight her first duel as a knight, and Alanna finds herself glaring across crossed blade at Roger.
She’s waited for this for years.
He scowls and lunges, muscling her arm out of the way and coming in straight towards her. She has no time to throw up a defense, and she hopes that the desperate hop backwards is enough to carry her out of range.
It’s not.
The blade slows, snagging on the stiff ribs of the corset she wears before tearing through and all the way down her torso.
It slides from beneath her ruined shirt, and Roger’s eyes bug out.
His aren’t the only ones.
Jon stares, white faced, swallows hard, and takes a step to stand behind his father.
Slowly, Alanna turns to face the Court.