Post by PeroxidePirate on Aug 2, 2009 7:59:08 GMT 10
Title: Fencing Lessons
Rating: R
Length: 1300 Words
Category: Tortall
Summary: Charting an unexpected relationship, from beginning to end. This is pretty much crack!fic, although it did get a little serious, too. Also contains mention of another (male/male) peculiar pairing.
Peculiar Pairing: Alanna/Joren
Note: Inspired by the book "Enchantress from the Stars" by Sylvia Engdahl, solely because two of the main characters there are named Elana and Georen. I'm listening to it as audio book, and I swear it sounds like Alanna and Joren -- and I started to wonder if I could make it work. The rest followed from that.
****
"This is absurd," Alanna snapped, the first morning after. "I'm a married woman twice your age."
"Unnatural," Joren agreed, lazily. "An affront to the gods. But you don't need me for that."
She glared. "I almost forgot. You're an ignorant child."
He looked coolly up at her, fair where Jonathan was dark, but cheeky and arrogant as her prince had once been. "Ignorant? Child?"
He reached for her, and at length, she was forced to admit that neither word described him.
****
He was a superb swordsman. She meant that in a purely literal manner. In the beginning, anyway.
He was the best of the squires, better than many knights. She beat him, but not easily. He challenged her to a rematch. How could she refuse? Perhaps she hoped to change his mind -- to prove, personally, the worth of female warriors. To do, at her age, what even another warrior in the prime of youth could not.
And how they got from that point to all that followed is a series of unlikely events that she preferred not to remember. Suffice to say, female knights can do everything male knights can -- including cheat on their spouses with much younger courtesans. Put that way, she was even less proud of the whole affair.
She never did change his mind. And he never did best her at fencing.
****
"You only beat me because you've had a couple of extra decades to practice," he said, sure of himself, as always.
"It's not quite two decades," she protested. The age difference between them was not her favorite subject. "And I would have beat you even when I was a squire, because you always leave that opening on your left side--" True, a person had to be very fast to slide a sword into that spot, so Joren wasn't often beaten. But Alanna was that fast.
"It's inevitable, because on a normal-sized knight there's a space between those two joints," he argued. Of course he would never admit to making mistakes. "But you're so short--"
"You aren't a knight yet, lad. And if you'd turn your elbow a bit, you could protect that spot. Get up, I'll show you." Alanna stood, dragging at Joren's hands, determined to prove him wrong. Her tent was pitched away from the Grand Progress, and spelled to keep in the sounds of conversation... and other things.
Joren let out an exaggerated sigh, but his eyes were almost laughing in that condescending way of his. "All right, all right, but wait a moment." He reached for his breeches.
Modesty, now? She couldn't believe it -- surely she'd never been this silly, even as a squire. "You're afraid for your virtue all of a sudden?" With a wooden practice sword, she whacked him lightly on the backside. "A knight is prepared for anything. Let's go."
He turned to face her, arms crossed in annoyance. "You're an unnatural creature."
"So you've told me, often." She stared back.
He still refused to take up a practice sword, turning away to reach for his clothing again, and finally she retaliated by taking him down with a combination of Shang moves. He landed on the floor of the tent with a grunt, still naked, and she grinned down at him.
"Now do you believe you have something to learn?"
"It's always lessons," he complained. But he was looking up at her through his hair like he had that first morning, and he stretched one hand along her bare thigh. She let herself be drawn in, and collapsed atop him as they kissed.
"Now," she said, peeling herself away and picking up the practice sword once more. "Fencing. This is the correct angle." She demonstrated the moves. "And this is the way you've been doing it."
****
Alanna never let herself think about the future -- not where Joren was concerned. Even the night of his Ordeal, she directed her mind to other things. But all the same, she was there in the chapel when the Chamber door opened.
She went to the funeral with her hair tucked under a wimple and a sheer black veil over her face. Keladry found her anyway.
"My lady!" she called out, and Alanna was thankful the squire had the grace not to call her by name. She hoped to avoid the notice of his family -- they would have seen her as a political adversary, which she was, of course. But that wasn't why she was there.
They exchanged curtsies, Alanna wondering what Kel thought of her being there, but she didn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary.
"He would have made a horrible knight," Kel said sadly. "He saw the code of chivalry as a burden, and followed it only when he wanted to. Only when it was convenient." She looked soberly into Alanna's eyes. "But I never would have wanted this."
"Nor I," Alanna said, grateful for the veil that obscured her features and hid her blush. She couldn't help applying Kel's words to herself -- to what she had become -- and it was painful. Deservedly so.
They were silent for a moment, and when Alanna spoke again it was to herself as much as to the girl. "He was a man. He made his own choices. Nothing you could have done would have prevented this."
Kel went away, eventually. Alanna stopped in her rooms to change clothes, then went to the practice court she and Joren had most often used. It seemed appropriate to mourn him there, with a sword in her hand.
****
"There's been someone else," George said, not quite questioning, and the bottom dropped out of Alanna's stomach.
They were both home at Pirate's Swoop for the first time in many months. They had greeted each other normally, in the courtyard, before the eyes of their servants and children. Now they were standing alone in the grand hall. Alanna made herself look at her husband, and he was the one to avert his eyes. She should have known she could hide nothing from him.
"Someone..." He trailed off, and then started again, deliberately. "He was young. Noble. Handsome."
"George," she whispered.
"It's over now," he said, voice dead of any emotion, and she nodded, afraid to speak. "I thought you should know--"
"I understand," she interrupted, sick with the feeling of everything being ripped apart. Over or not, it was better that she knew he knew. "I'm so very sorry."
"As am I, lass." He really did look it. But of course -- even now, her George would feel sympathy, knowing how she mourned her... lover. Goddess, it was hard to call Joren what he was. Even now. Especially now.
He rubbed his face with his hands, and she wanted to reach for him, but she didn't dare. He looked older than she remembered, and she hated herself for the comparison she couldn't help making.
"Alanna." He looked away, jaw tight, and then spoke again. "It was Queenscove."
"What?" She couldn't keep the laugh out of her voice, for he'd gotten it so very, very wrong. Until he looked back at her, sadder than ever, and her mind replayed the conversation. She sat down abruptly. "Oh."
"Oh," he echoed, and his face registered a whole range of uncomfortable emotions: surprise, anger, sorrow, fear, anger again.
And how, Alanna wondered, could her husband and her squire have gotten up to something without her notice? Had she really been that wrapped up in Joren?
At last George gave her a self-depreciating smile. "It wouldn't be fair for me to be angry at you right now, would it, lass?"
She swallowed, knowing she'd have to confess properly, after all. "Maybe it would," she said finally. "Let me tell you what happened."
George's eyes were questioning, but he waited until she was ready. As he always had.
And they told each other everything.
Rating: R
Length: 1300 Words
Category: Tortall
Summary: Charting an unexpected relationship, from beginning to end. This is pretty much crack!fic, although it did get a little serious, too. Also contains mention of another (male/male) peculiar pairing.
Peculiar Pairing: Alanna/Joren
Note: Inspired by the book "Enchantress from the Stars" by Sylvia Engdahl, solely because two of the main characters there are named Elana and Georen. I'm listening to it as audio book, and I swear it sounds like Alanna and Joren -- and I started to wonder if I could make it work. The rest followed from that.
****
"This is absurd," Alanna snapped, the first morning after. "I'm a married woman twice your age."
"Unnatural," Joren agreed, lazily. "An affront to the gods. But you don't need me for that."
She glared. "I almost forgot. You're an ignorant child."
He looked coolly up at her, fair where Jonathan was dark, but cheeky and arrogant as her prince had once been. "Ignorant? Child?"
He reached for her, and at length, she was forced to admit that neither word described him.
****
He was a superb swordsman. She meant that in a purely literal manner. In the beginning, anyway.
He was the best of the squires, better than many knights. She beat him, but not easily. He challenged her to a rematch. How could she refuse? Perhaps she hoped to change his mind -- to prove, personally, the worth of female warriors. To do, at her age, what even another warrior in the prime of youth could not.
And how they got from that point to all that followed is a series of unlikely events that she preferred not to remember. Suffice to say, female knights can do everything male knights can -- including cheat on their spouses with much younger courtesans. Put that way, she was even less proud of the whole affair.
She never did change his mind. And he never did best her at fencing.
****
"You only beat me because you've had a couple of extra decades to practice," he said, sure of himself, as always.
"It's not quite two decades," she protested. The age difference between them was not her favorite subject. "And I would have beat you even when I was a squire, because you always leave that opening on your left side--" True, a person had to be very fast to slide a sword into that spot, so Joren wasn't often beaten. But Alanna was that fast.
"It's inevitable, because on a normal-sized knight there's a space between those two joints," he argued. Of course he would never admit to making mistakes. "But you're so short--"
"You aren't a knight yet, lad. And if you'd turn your elbow a bit, you could protect that spot. Get up, I'll show you." Alanna stood, dragging at Joren's hands, determined to prove him wrong. Her tent was pitched away from the Grand Progress, and spelled to keep in the sounds of conversation... and other things.
Joren let out an exaggerated sigh, but his eyes were almost laughing in that condescending way of his. "All right, all right, but wait a moment." He reached for his breeches.
Modesty, now? She couldn't believe it -- surely she'd never been this silly, even as a squire. "You're afraid for your virtue all of a sudden?" With a wooden practice sword, she whacked him lightly on the backside. "A knight is prepared for anything. Let's go."
He turned to face her, arms crossed in annoyance. "You're an unnatural creature."
"So you've told me, often." She stared back.
He still refused to take up a practice sword, turning away to reach for his clothing again, and finally she retaliated by taking him down with a combination of Shang moves. He landed on the floor of the tent with a grunt, still naked, and she grinned down at him.
"Now do you believe you have something to learn?"
"It's always lessons," he complained. But he was looking up at her through his hair like he had that first morning, and he stretched one hand along her bare thigh. She let herself be drawn in, and collapsed atop him as they kissed.
"Now," she said, peeling herself away and picking up the practice sword once more. "Fencing. This is the correct angle." She demonstrated the moves. "And this is the way you've been doing it."
****
Alanna never let herself think about the future -- not where Joren was concerned. Even the night of his Ordeal, she directed her mind to other things. But all the same, she was there in the chapel when the Chamber door opened.
She went to the funeral with her hair tucked under a wimple and a sheer black veil over her face. Keladry found her anyway.
"My lady!" she called out, and Alanna was thankful the squire had the grace not to call her by name. She hoped to avoid the notice of his family -- they would have seen her as a political adversary, which she was, of course. But that wasn't why she was there.
They exchanged curtsies, Alanna wondering what Kel thought of her being there, but she didn't seem to see anything out of the ordinary.
"He would have made a horrible knight," Kel said sadly. "He saw the code of chivalry as a burden, and followed it only when he wanted to. Only when it was convenient." She looked soberly into Alanna's eyes. "But I never would have wanted this."
"Nor I," Alanna said, grateful for the veil that obscured her features and hid her blush. She couldn't help applying Kel's words to herself -- to what she had become -- and it was painful. Deservedly so.
They were silent for a moment, and when Alanna spoke again it was to herself as much as to the girl. "He was a man. He made his own choices. Nothing you could have done would have prevented this."
Kel went away, eventually. Alanna stopped in her rooms to change clothes, then went to the practice court she and Joren had most often used. It seemed appropriate to mourn him there, with a sword in her hand.
****
"There's been someone else," George said, not quite questioning, and the bottom dropped out of Alanna's stomach.
They were both home at Pirate's Swoop for the first time in many months. They had greeted each other normally, in the courtyard, before the eyes of their servants and children. Now they were standing alone in the grand hall. Alanna made herself look at her husband, and he was the one to avert his eyes. She should have known she could hide nothing from him.
"Someone..." He trailed off, and then started again, deliberately. "He was young. Noble. Handsome."
"George," she whispered.
"It's over now," he said, voice dead of any emotion, and she nodded, afraid to speak. "I thought you should know--"
"I understand," she interrupted, sick with the feeling of everything being ripped apart. Over or not, it was better that she knew he knew. "I'm so very sorry."
"As am I, lass." He really did look it. But of course -- even now, her George would feel sympathy, knowing how she mourned her... lover. Goddess, it was hard to call Joren what he was. Even now. Especially now.
He rubbed his face with his hands, and she wanted to reach for him, but she didn't dare. He looked older than she remembered, and she hated herself for the comparison she couldn't help making.
"Alanna." He looked away, jaw tight, and then spoke again. "It was Queenscove."
"What?" She couldn't keep the laugh out of her voice, for he'd gotten it so very, very wrong. Until he looked back at her, sadder than ever, and her mind replayed the conversation. She sat down abruptly. "Oh."
"Oh," he echoed, and his face registered a whole range of uncomfortable emotions: surprise, anger, sorrow, fear, anger again.
And how, Alanna wondered, could her husband and her squire have gotten up to something without her notice? Had she really been that wrapped up in Joren?
At last George gave her a self-depreciating smile. "It wouldn't be fair for me to be angry at you right now, would it, lass?"
She swallowed, knowing she'd have to confess properly, after all. "Maybe it would," she said finally. "Let me tell you what happened."
George's eyes were questioning, but he waited until she was ready. As he always had.
And they told each other everything.
I don't even know where to begin, just, omg! ♥
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!