Post by Danae on Nov 16, 2009 8:39:42 GMT 10
Title: A Friend Who Bleeds
Rating: R (but there is a more, erm, adult version available as well - I´m still insecure about the rating system and decided to play it safe)
Words: 6.686
Summary: Alex finds out about Alanna, and a love triangle takes its unfortunate course. Triggered (kinda) by the idea that someone only needed let anything slip about Lord Trebond having a son and a daughter, instead of two sons (which wasn´t a secret, after all), to reveal Alanna´s true identity.
Song to go with the fic: Placebo "Pure Morning"
***
„Again,“ Gary said incredulously. „You beat him again!“
Alex shrugged, a faint smile playing around his lips as he wiped his face with a cloth Gary handed him. Jon was doing the same for Alan, or trying to, but the redhead knocked the Prince´s hand aside roughly and stomped off. Alex watched the retreating figure of the younger boy and remarked casually “I got lucky.”
Gary snorted. “You got lucky the seventh time in a row, Tirragen. Seems like our Alan is out of shape lately.”
“Not out of shape”, Raoul chimed in. “He still beats everyone else. More like Alex got better. Have you been training secretly? And what interests me most - where do you get the time to exercise even more than you usually do? Does your day have more than 24 hours?”
Alex laughed, but offered no explanation, and the other boys did not insist on one. There was no explanation required, really; all that had happened was that the waging rivalry between the boys had come to a conclusion: Alex was the better fighter after all.
***
It had been this exact question that Alanna and Alex had agreed to resolve once and for all a fortnight ago. The training grounds had been empty, they had the whole place to themselves. Alanna was a little nervous, but confident. It had been a while since she had last fenced with Alex, and meanwhile she had learned quite a few new moves and worked on her stamina. There was a good chance that she could beat him.
However, it appeared that Alex had not been doing nothing either; their first round ended with a draw, both swordpoints directed at the other´s throat and chest respectively. Alex suggested fighting the next round with Tusaine knives, a fighting style he had picked up during a long border patrol, and Alanna, secretly delighted at the opportunity to surprise Alex with her knife fighting skills that she had acquired from George, consented.
She could tell that he was indeed surprised when she parried his attack with apparent ease, but he took in this information instantly and attacked anew, this time with more fervour, and she knew that the advantage her unexpected skill had given her was gone. Technically, it seemed, they were equally good, but Alex was taller and stronger, and so after fifteen minutes she found herself cornered against the wall, an ornate Tusaine knife pointed at her throat. With a small irritated laugh she let her own knife drop to the floor.
“I guess I should accompany you on that next patrol,” she said, trying to hide her anger under a light-hearted tone.
Amusement shone through his eyes as he replied “Yes, maybe you should.”
The knife was lowered, but only a few inches, until it pointed at the delicate pit between her collarbones. Alanna frowned. What did he expect of her? She was defenceless, that was pretty obvious - did he want her to say it aloud?
“I yield,” she complied, arching her eyebrows at him questioningly.
He smiled. “Good,” he said, and although he was quite close enough as it was, he took another step forward, and suddenly only inches separated their faces. Alanna froze. “Alex, what -“ she managed, and then his mouth was on hers, gently prying it open, the tip of his tongue tracing the contours of her lips, tasting her, teasing her… his body pressing against hers, and all the time the knife was not lowered, as if he´d forgotten that he was still pointing it at her. A wave of emotions crushed over her - confusion, fear, anger, but the one drowning all others out was pure longing, rushing through her veins like an injection of the most powerful magic. She thought her knees might give way as the desire seemed to make her whole body go limp, and suddenly she was glad that she was squeezed in between him and the wall…
How come he knows - that thought flickered up in her mind, but she was unable to follow it as she found herself kissing him back, her hand that had flown to his chest to push him back at first now tugging at his shirt to pull him closer, not that closer was possible at all… then some sober part of her wondered whether he really knew about her, or if he thought he was kissing Alan… and then his left hand that had been pressing her shoulder against the wall wandered downwards and came to rest on her bandaged breast, and that answered that question…
At some point, the knife was gone, and some time after that Alex let go of her, taking a step back, and she had to grab at his elbow in order not to stumble. His dark eyes were glazed over, and there was no trace of the smug smile he had worn before. He licked his lips and lifted his hand to his head, presumably to straighten his hair, and upon doing so realized that he was still holding the Tusaine knife. Quickly, he sheathed it, looking quite sheepish and about as old as he had been when they had first met, years ago.
For a few moments, they stared at each other, slowly regaining their breath. Then, as longing flowed out and was replaced by something else entirely, Alanna´s eyes narrowed, fury welling up in her violet eyes.
“You are not going to tell anybody,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Alex had apparently regained his composure. Calmly, he shrugged. “I won´t.” His lips curled into a crooked grin. “I suppose Jon wouldn´t like that.”
Alanna gasped. The nerve!
“You know perfectly well what I mean. Not just this - “ her hand fluttered in a gesture vaguely including the room, the incident, both of them, “also… this thing about me.” She did not dare say it aloud, did not want to confirm what he already knew.
He shook his head. “I won´t,” he repeated, but there was a glint in his eyes that worried her.
It was after that day that Alex kept winning all the fights.
***
It was something Roger had said, combined with a remark by the old woman who had been Alex´s childhood nurse that shed a new light on Alan´s numerous eccentricities.
Roger had said: “Watch Alan for me, Alex. This boy is hiding something, and I want to know what it is.”
Alex´s old nurse had said, after he dared to tell her that he had no memory whatsoever of the day she considered the most glamorous of her life: “Now don´t be such a dolt, my lad. I can´t believe that you don´t remember that Spring Ball your father gave when you were, what, six or seven! Why, all the Tortall noblesse came, even Trebond. Surely you must remember his children that he brought with him, twins - little redheads both of them, the girl all lively, the boy quite sullen? Now, you did not play with them, ´twas beneath a big boy like you to play with toddlers, but you might remember this other girl, a flaxen-haired darling named Carlotta, who was exactly your age, I wonder what became of her…”
And so Alex watched Alan like Roger had told him to, and all the while his nurse´s comment worked in the back of his mind, and after a while of watching and pondering, a number of things about the younger boy began to make perfect sense.
Like the fact that he never swam with them, and never even undressed in front of his friends, while all the others did so with the utmost naturalness. Another hint was Alan´s small stature and the fact that he still had his boyish looks at fifteen, an age where the other boys´ shoulders started to broaden, their voices deepened and facial hair started to spread.
And then there was the close relationship with the Prince. There was nothing that indicated that they were anything other than friends - if you did not know what to look for. Alex knew what to look for, and he registered things, subtle signs that the relationship between Jon and Alan went far beyond one that a knight shared with his squire.
Alan himself gave Alex the confirmation he needed. Alex could not believe his, or rather, her chutzpah as the girl he had come to know as Alan of Trebond actually turned up at the Midsummer Ball, and it was even harder to believe that nobody else recognized her. Certainly, she was wearing a dress and face paint and she had brunette hair (a wig probably), but for Alex, it was plain to see that it was Alan. Or Alanna, as it were.
It was not only the violet eyes - how many people had violet eyes, for Mithros´ sake? -, it was also the way she moved. Gracefully, yes, but not with the graceful movements of a court lady, rather with the elegance of a fighter.
Alex was almost insulted that she thought she could fool him by putting on a ridiculous wig. She should have known that he would recognize her by the way she moved. If there was anyone who paid attention to these things, it was Alex, and probably Alan himself, who had conveniently forgotten for the duration of this evening that only the best fighters had their opponents´ style engraved in their memory, that they would recognize a shadow solely by the way it twirled and the angle at which its sword arm described an arch while fencing… or dancing.
Naturally, Roger pressed Alex to tell him everything he could find out about Alan, and Alex fed him little bits and pieces of information that could or could not be important, enough to keep the Duke satisfied for a while, but the big secret, the one Roger was after, he kept to himself. He wasn´t sure why; he just knew that the mystery that Alan was intrigued him, and that he wanted to find out more about it before revealing it to anyone else.
***
Delia of Eldorne was a breathtaking beauty, slender as a willow branch, with green eyes, framed by the longest lashes, and a heart-shaped face. When she entered a room heads turned and conversations died down, while she graciously acted as if she didn´t notice anything unusual at all. She was always in the middle of everyone´s attention and dominated every conversation, even when she wasn´t speaking, because whatever was said around her was only said to impress her, or to make oneself look better in her eyes by making someone else look bad. A cloud of gossip and flattery always surrounded Delia. And she enjoyed it, in fact did the best she could to spread it around, regardless of whether she thought the rumours in question were true or not. She was a master at wordplay and would effortlessly produce the most poignant witticisms, and although genuinely disinterested in higher politics, she did not hesitate to offer her views on each and every subject, phrased so eloquently that even educated people could not help but agree with her, even though afterward, when they were alone, they might feel that she had, in spite of her brilliance, overlooked a point or two.
Alex found her tiresome and dull.
Oh, he could play the game just as well as her - the flattery, the small talk, the smiles, the elegance on the dance floor and in conversation, using a fantastic amount of fine-sounding words to express nothing at all - Alex was good at that. It was just a part of him though, something he had worked on and perfected, like his fencing skills. But it was all there was to Delia, and that got tedious after a while. A very short while.
Jon would get there, eventually, but for the moment, he was charmed. It was just like Delia not to attack directly. Where any other woman who knew the Prince´s attention on her would have done her utmost to impress him, keep him entertained, Delia seemed to barely notice him. It was clever, Alex had to hand her that, to focus her attention on someone else entirely, but on someone who was so close to the Prince that he could not possibly overlook how she was preferring this other man over him. Although in this case, the chosen victim could hardly be called a man, and even though most at court would have agreed on calling Alan of Trebond a boy, Alex knew better. The fact that he was the only one in the room who saw the whole picture amused Alex to no end.
He watched the spectacle the whole evening, watched Delia tease Alan and send him for drinks and telling Jon that, unfortunately, she had reserved all her upcoming dances for young Trebond, and wasn´t he a good-looking fellow? And then more dances, more games of the sort, until Alex thought Alan would throw up and Jon would explode any second; then the Prince insisted his squire surrender the next dance to him (Delia frowned, looking pretty even doing so), and Alan fled to the gardens.
It was by the Queen´s vegetable garden that Alex found her, hands buried deep in her pockets, staring holes into the cabbage patch.
“You won the prize of the evening, it seems,” he remarked casually as he slipped out of the shadows. Alanna didn´t flinch. She must have heard him coming.
“I don´t want it,” Alanna grumbled. “I´m not going back inside. If she asks for me, tell her I´m dead.”
Alex laughed. “She´s not likely to believe that. You should be flattered, you know. Every man in there would gladly trade places with you.”
Alanna snorted. One hand slipped out of her pocket, gesturing toward the illuminated ballroom that was filled with voices and laughter and music. “Please, I´m not stopping you. You can have my place. I´m not so keen on it as it might appear.”
Alex shook his head, watching her closely. “It looks as though the spot at Lady Delia´s side is currently occupied.” She flinched, he noted with satisfaction. “Besides, this piece of candy is too sticky for my tastes. It looks all delicious, but it fills you up quicker than you thought and afterwards you feel sick. Not worth it.”
She shot him a sharp glance. “You sound like you know what you are talking about.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “She insisted. When Delia has set her mind on something, it is more tiresome to try and talk her out of it than to give her what she wants and be done with it.”
Alanna´s glance lingered on the palace. Her profile was turned to Alex, and he took in her face - her eyelashes, her mouth, the fragility of her cheekbones - and marvelled at how it was possible that no one had ever seen the truth, how it was possible that he had never seen it, when it was so plain to see.
“Fair enough,” she finally said, and there was something like hope in her voice. “You mean once she has what she wants, she gets bored easily?”
He tilted his head, giving her a crooked, not unsympathetic smile. “That depends on what she wants. I seriously doubt that she will let Jon off the hook so easily. That´s a much bigger fish than you or me.”
“I´m no fish at all,” Alanna remarked dryly. “Delia just doesn´t know.”
Alex nodded. For a while, they just stood there without speaking. Alex watched Alanna chew on her lower lip, as if debating with herself over what she was going to say next, and it wasn´t totally unexpected when she finally blurted out “How did you know?”
“I just guessed. Little things added up to one suspicion, and… well.”
He shrugged again, obviously not planning on telling her anything more substantial than that. She glowered at him, but that did not seem to impress him. He just kept looking at her calmly, casually leaning against the edge of the fountain, hands in his pockets, and it was she who lowered her gaze first.
“You look like you´re cold,” he said. “Shall we go back inside?”
“No.” Her eyes returned to his face with a sudden determination. “Why did you kiss me?” A slight blush tinged her cheeks. “Out of curiosity?”
He did not answer right away; then a half smile appeared on his lips. “Mostly.”
“I see.” She was surprised at the disappointment she felt. It wasn´t as if she had wanted him to kiss her, after all. She had never even thought of Alex that way. He had always been just one of her friends, and lately she hadn´t even been sure about that, what with him being so close to Roger…
Roger. She had been so concerned with Alex´s knowledge about her identity that she had not given the possible ramifications proper thought.
Now she shot him a sharp glance. “You promised not to tell anyone.”
“And I didn´t.”
“What if Roger asks you?”
He cocked one eyebrow. “What, if squire Alan is a girl? Now why would he?”
She shook her head impatiently. “Not that. Or - he might. I don´t know. You noticed, didn´t you? What if he does too?”
Alex chuckled softly. “He won´t. I know how Roger thinks, and I assure you that such a thought would not occur to him in a million years.”
It sounded like the truth, and if it wasn´t, there wasn´t much Alanna could do anyway. Suddenly she felt really cold, but just the thought of going back inside made her feel sick. She did not want to see Jon dance with Delia. And now that Delia had what she wanted, maybe they wouldn´t go looking for her. She could hide in the gardens until it was time to retreat, and if they inquired tomorrow, she would claim that she had been busy fetching drinks for ladies at the other end of the ballroom.
Alex was still looking at her, and Alanna suddenly felt awkward, as if he had been listening in on her thoughts. But then, her contrary nature that had always been both her blessing and her curse, decided that it should not be her feeling awkward. It wasn´t as if she had done anything wrong… Well, maybe apart from the big lie of her life, but even that one wasn´t relevant when it came to Alex. No need to lie to him anymore, at least.
She turned to him, raising her chin decidedly, a glimmer of mischief in her violet eyes.
“Would you kiss me again?”
He studied her, unmoving, for a few seconds before the familiar ironic smile appeared once again on his lips. His little bow was equally ironic, as was his tone of voice when he said, “Always happy to pose a distraction.”
This was too much irony to bear, and Alanna shied away from his arm that was reaching out to encircle her waist. He´d said he had kissed her out of curiosity, right? It wasn´t as if it meant more than that to him. So why was he being so… so… sarcastic? Because that´s how he is, isn´t it? Alanna reminded herself, but she couldn´t help feeling that there was more to it.
He didn´t move, waiting for her to decide the course of action. Alanna shook her head, a little embarrassed, and ventured, “We´d better go back inside. I´m afraid Delia might send out half the servants to find me if I don´t return in time for our next dance. That is, if she notices my absence at all. There is a small chance that she will.”
Alex gave her his arm to lead her back to the ballroom, then reconsidered and simply patted her on the shoulder. He grinned. “Would you like me to ask Delia for a dance or two? I´m pretty sure she wouldn´t decline.”
Alanna´s eyes grew wide. “Would you? Oh please, that would be such a relief!”
Alex laughed. “Anything for you, my friend. Even if it means the terrible fate of sharing a dance with the lovely Delia of Eldorne.”
“Yeah, like you haven´t shared more than just a dance with her,” Alanna muttered, half-jokingly. However, now the ballroom opened up before them, and she was so preoccupied looking out for Delia - and Jon - that she missed the peculiar glance Alex gave her.
***
Tonight they had gathered in Alex´s rooms, drinking and playing cards and exchanging the latest court talk. Raoul had protested at first. “You never get properly drunk, and you get tired early and then you make us leave while we´re still having fun!”
Alex had arched one eyebrow at this. “Last time when I threw you out the morning sun was already shining on your face, and you were snoring on my carpet. Rather loudly, I may add. Doesn´t sound like I spoiled any fun.”
Even though partying at Alex´s usually ended earlier than at, say, Raoul´s or Gary´s, they all agreed that his selection of wine was the best, and so finally decided to spend the evening there. Only Jon excused himself; he did not give a reason, but the wide grin on Gary´s face and the scowl on Alan´s was explanation enough.
Gary kept winning at cards, and if they had played for real money, Raoul would have left in nothing but his underpants and Alan would have lost Trebond that evening. Alex contended himself with drinking – wine and water alternately, unlike some of the others – and watching Alan. By midnight Raoul was drunkenly reminiscing about the glory of their page years, and when he finally broke out in tears at the memory of Francis, who had died of the Sweating Sickness, Gary heaved him up and put his arm around him, and they left for Raoul´s chambers. Alex noted that Alan wasn´t offering his help.
When the door had closed behind their friends, Alex poured the boy-who-was-a-girl a new glass of wine. Alanna shook her head, but after a moment of consideration she took it nonetheless. She stared into the dark red liquid, as if hoping to find the answer to a question she was pondering there, then sipped and put the glass back down on the table, right next to the glass she had been using all evening, which was untouched. She sighed. “I should be going too.”
“If you want.” Alex found that his mouth was dry, and he took a sip of wine. He was leaning against his desk, too restless to sit down properly. He wished she would just make up her mind and leave. Or not.
She looked up to him, violet eyes searching his face. “Would you mind if I stayed?”
“No.” He almost choked on the one word. She smiled, and the smile was so much Alan´s that it was impossible to say whether the person who was now getting up and crossing the small distance between them was the boy, his friend and rival, or the girl whose lips he still felt on his own ever since the day he had kissed her in the training hall. As she stood before him, close but not touching, his heart skipped several beats, helter-skelter like a drunkard falling down the stairs, and suddenly he knew, just knew that this was his last chance to turn and run before it was too late... but he hesitated, and in this moment of hesitation she put one hand on his shoulder, soft like snow, while the other snaked around his neck, and the next thing he knew he had both his hands buried in her red hair, messing it up, her lips opening up under his, welcoming his tongue, licking his lips, sucking them... he came up for air, moaning as she pressed her hip against his crotch. His hands pulled her shirt out of her trousers, slipped under it, searching, and found only more fabric, strapped so tightly over her chest that it was impossible to get under it, let alone get her out of it. A sparkling sound bubbled from her lips, and Alex was so caught in his desire that he took a moment to recognize it: Alanna was giggling.
“That won´t work,” she grinned. “Bandages are bound too tightly. Can´t afford to have them come down in the middle of a fight, right?”
“No,” he agreed, “though it would make for a great surprise effect.” He was glad that his wits had not left him completely, that he was still able to joke with Alanna as if she were Alan. However, he was swiftly reminded who he was holding in his arms as she pulled the shirt over her head, exposing delicate, if well-toned shoulders over multiple layers of bandages that triggered Alex´s imagination all the more despite perfectly fulfilling their function of hiding what no one must know about. Before she could set to work undoing them though, he scooped her up (“What the hell, Alex?!”) and carried her to his bedroom, stopping only to lock the door. One never knew what a drunken Raoul was up to; more than once had he stumbled back to the party he had been forced to leave and insisted on being served more wine.
It was already dawning when they fell asleep among the tangled sheets, their bodies so intertwined that they could hardly say where one began and the other ended. Which wasn´t important anyway, not today and not any of the days and weeks that followed.
***
Prince Jonathan was in Scanra on a diplomatic mission when the Sweating Sickness broke out in Corus again. This time, its course was milder, and most of the patients healed within a week. The only exception being page Alan. He seemed to get weaker and weaker, and not even Duke Baird was able to do anything against it. When Alex proposed that Duke Roger might be able to help, Alanna made such a scene that Alex did not dare mention it again for fear of upsetting the patient, but he did wonder why she was so opposed to letting Roger see her.
Four days after Alanna had taken sick, Duke Baird sent for Alex. This was surprising, since it was only two hours after he had left her side to get some rest himself, and Alex got dressed in a hurry and rushed over to her chambers, fearing the worst.
Duke Baird awaited him with creased eyebrows, not with the look of sadness Alex had half expected, and the young knight breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Alanna weak, but alive and awake. Behind Baird´s back, she shot him an imploring glance. And when Baird told him, in a hushed voice, why he had summoned him, he knew what was going on.
“Of course I will stay with him.”
Duke Baird sighed. “I don´t know why the lad is so damn stubborn. I mean, I do understand young men in their teens being uncomfortable with female nurses changing their clothes, even when they´re ill, but Alan wouldn´t even accept male nurses. He insisted I call Prince Jonathan, and when we reminded him that the prince had gone abroad, he wanted none other than you to tend to him. I know you are all good friends, and I am happy to hear that you will submit to his wishes, curious as they may seem; to tell the truth, I hold some hope that the loving care of a friend will contribute as much to his recovery as my healing powers.”
If Alex stiffened a little at the mention of Jonathan, Baird did not notice it. Determinedly, he pushed all jealous thoughts aside. She was sick, and she needed him. Well, maybe not him, but someone who knew who she was, someone she could trust. And at the moment, this someone appeared to be him.
***
This was just the beginning of Alanna´s illness, which got worse and worse and took her almost to the brink of death. Her fever rose, and hallucinations haunted her; she was crouching in fear of some unnameable threat once and talking to her brother the next moment, and Alex practically camped beside her bed and shooed everyone out of the room whenever she started hallucinating, lest she give herself away.
There wasn´t much he could do, apart from being there, taking care of her physical needs, stand aside whenever Duke Baird inspected her and convince Raoul and Gary that no, he really didn´t need a break, and that there really was no need for any of them replacing him for a while. Alanna never came to, whenever she was awake she was talking to people who weren´t there, or calling people who were present the wrong names; Alex found it particularly unsettling when she seemed to think that he was Roger and wouldn´t let him near her, glaring at him and balling her hands to weak fists. The next time she awoke she called him Thom and smiled and gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let go until she fell back asleep, her facial features relaxed and still bearing traces of her smile.
Finally, after days on end of leaving Alanna´s bedside with a worried expression on his face, there came the day when Baird stood up and smiled.
“It looks like he´s getting better,” he said, and Alex suddenly felt an extreme tension fall off his shoulders. Tiredness engulfed him, the lack of sleep attacking him without warning, and he nearly stumbled. Both him and Alanna slept for the next twelve hours, and when Alex awoke he found her eyes resting on him, seeing him, for the first time in, what, ten days? He crawled out of his sleeping bag and let himself plop onto the chair next to her bed.
“Hey.”
She smiled.
“Hey. You look like you need a shave.”
Alex felt his cheeks and chin. He definitely needed a shave. And something to eat, and a bath. But those things could wait just a little longer.
“Yeah, I guess so. Whereas you look like blooming spring itself. All set for a walk in the gardens.”
She laughed, feebly, a sound he had not realized he had missed until he heard it.
“I feel like a newborn kitten. Can barely lift my arms. But I guess I´ve been worse, huh?”
Alex nodded, and told her just how much worse she had been. He did not tell her everything - the hallucinations, for instance, being something he wasn´t comfortable talking about - but he spoke about her fever and how Duke Baird had come to see her three times a day and worked his healing powers on her, and how her own Gift seemed to have been drained out by the sickness. She was happy to hear that they had summoned Thom, and that he was on his way to Corus, even though she would probably have fully recovered by the time he arrived. They talked for a while, Alanna trying to make sense to the nightmares that had haunted her during her time of illness, and then they went on to lighter topics, and Alex reproduced whatever gossip Raoul and Gary had brought with them during their visits - which wasn´t much, since the situation with Alan had been too serious to allow idle gossiping. Neither of them heard the door open, and it was only when Alanna´s glance went over his shoulder and her face lit up that Alex realized they had a visitor, and he thought he might have an inkling of who it might be.
“Jon!”
“Alan, I - “ The Prince´s eyes were focused on his squire, his voice strangled with a mixture of anxiety and relief. Not really looking at the figure occupying the chair next to the bed, he said, absent-mindedly “I will take over, no need for you to stay. Thank you.”
Thank you indeed, Alex thought sarcastically, for sarcasm was way preferable over being hurt, or bitter, or outright angry, especially when those feelings were directed at your prince. He got up and gave Jon a curt nod, preparing to leave, when Jon stopped short and took a proper glance at him, muttering, “Oh, it´s you, Alex… well, thanks. Give my thanks to Raoul and Gary as well, please.”
For what? Stopping in for half an hour every day? But Alex did not say it, merely nodded, and left.
***
Someone, probably Duke Baird, must have told the Prince though; at least Alex could hardly find another explanation for the conversation that Jon found necessary the next day.
It was unusual in itself to be summoned to Jon´s rooms; if any of their group wanted to see another, the most common thing to do would be to go look for them themselves. And it wasn´t as if Alex was hard to find; he was either in his rooms, or the Training Grounds.
“So,” Jon began after he had poured Alex and himself goblets of wine in an attempt of inducing a relaxed atmosphere, but spoiling the picture by remaining standing. “I heard you spent the last ten days at Alan´s side, taking over, er, how to call it, the role of a nurse, more or less?”
Alex swirled the wine in the glass. He did not drink though.
“Yes, that´s right.”
Why make it easy on him? Let Jon struggle a bit, let him in the dark about just how much Alex knew, for a while at least. It was too amusing to watch, and amusement was clearly lacking in Alex´s life these days.
Jon´s eyes narrowed, just a bit.
“How come Baird chose you for that purpose?”
Alex smiled.
“He didn´t. Alan did.”
Jon sighed, impatiently.
“So how come Alan chose you?”
Now Alex lifted his goblet, regarding its contents, taking a sip, all with the air of a man who has all the time in the world. Letting Jon steam was a distorted kind of joy, he was aware of that, but since it was all the joy left to him, he was prepared to take it.
“Maybe…”, he began after setting down the goblet, still uncertain on how to proceed, but then suddenly deciding that he did not give a damn, “maybe it´s because she did not trust any of the regular nurses to keep her secret.”
Jon´s knuckles around his goblet turned white, and Alex set down his own goblet on a table next to them. If it came to fighting, he didn´t want to hold a glass in his hand. Nasty mess, getting glass splinters out of your flesh.
“That is still lacking in terms of an explanation,” Jonathan hissed. Alex raised his eyebrows. His amusement over seeing Jon lose his nerve surprised himself, but it was there, a part of him that had always resented Jon, triumphing at this moment of predominance over the Prince - a man who had been brought up to think that whatever he wanted was his, and even if he had discarded something he did not want anymore he had the right to change his mind at any given time and demand it back. There was no way Alex would reveal to Jon that Alanna´s first request had been for him, the Prince, to be at her side.
Alex shrugged, deciding he did not care anymore. “To put it more precisely: she needed someone to change and wash her. Preferably someone who wouldn´t be all too surprised upon seeing her naked and realizing that page Alan was not quite who he pretended to be.”
Jon´s eyes had now turned an icy kind of blue, the coldness penetrating his voice as well as he forced out his next question: “And where would you have seen her naked before?”
Contrary to Jon, who was getting tenser by the minute, Alex seemed all relaxed. He was well aware that Jon was hoping for an answer along the lines of I stumbled upon her when she was bathing in the lake or some such sort, and he creased his brow, as if trying to recall this sort of incident.
“Mostly,” he began, gazing at a point somewhere above Jon´s head distractedly, before he let his eyes dart back to Jon´s face, “in my bed.” A faint smile appeared on his lips.
He was prepared for the blow, but it did not come, in spite of Jon´s eyes shooting daggers at him and his hands balling into fists. But he did not attack, and Alex was torn between disappointment and grudging admiration of the Prince´s self-control as the seconds ticked away and Jon still hadn´t made an attempt at blackening his eye, at the very least.
Finally, Jon took one step back as if he wasn´t trusting himself not to seize on Alex if he kept standing too close, and growled “Get out of here, you slimy little bastard!”
Alex´s smile did not fade, and with a small ironic nod he seemed to acknowledge the title of honour given to him. He had barely closed the door behind himself when he heard the shattering of glass against the doorframe.
***
She found him in the weaponry, looking for a spare bow to replace the one he had broken during the last hunt. She wasn´t looking for any weapons though; it had been her purpose to find him, alone, in a place where they couldn´t be overheard so easily.
He refused to acknowledge her presence, taking bow after bow from the wall, drawing each one, weighing them in one hand, while Alanna watched him from the door. Finally, she stepped inside, taking a light middle-sized bow from the wall and handing it to him.
“This one´s not too bad. None of them are as good as your own, but that´s not the point of a weaponry, right? It´ll replace your bow just fine until you get yourself a new one made.”
For a moment, she thought he would continue with his act of ignoring her, but eventually he pried his eyes from the wall and took the bow she was handing him, pointedly avoiding her gaze.
“Alex…” she said, hesitatingly. “Jon and I -“
“I know,” he cut her off sharply. “Anything else you wanted to say?”
She sighed. “I never knew it meant that much to you.”
He stared at her for a few moments, then his face distorted into a perverted version of his usual easy smile, a joyless wolfish grin that made Alanna want to take a step back. Alex snorted.
“Do you have any idea how conceited you sound? I guess sharing a prince´s bed does that to you. No, don´t worry, I knew from the start that this would only go on as long as Jonathan was busy tasting more delicate fruit.”
He registered with satisfaction how she flinched, how her maddeningly sympathetic expression turned into a scowl. Gripping the bow she had chosen for him tighter, he made for the door, trusting that she would move aside if he followed his course with enough determination. And she did, but before he had passed by her she said, quickly, “I thought we might be able to stay friends.”
Alex turned to face her, a move that cost him quite an effort since they were standing too close together as it was. He was fairly pleased with the factual tone of voice he mastered as he replied “I was friends with Alan.”
Alanna held him back once more, stretching out her hand and withdrawing it at once, but the movement served its purpose, and Alex remained standing there, granting her what he hoped was an appropriately non-committal look. She gulped.
“Does it have to end that way, Alex?”
He smiled once again, and this time it was bright and cheerful and almost understanding.
“This is not the end,” he said softly, and that was the truth.
Rating: R (but there is a more, erm, adult version available as well - I´m still insecure about the rating system and decided to play it safe)
Words: 6.686
Summary: Alex finds out about Alanna, and a love triangle takes its unfortunate course. Triggered (kinda) by the idea that someone only needed let anything slip about Lord Trebond having a son and a daughter, instead of two sons (which wasn´t a secret, after all), to reveal Alanna´s true identity.
Song to go with the fic: Placebo "Pure Morning"
***
„Again,“ Gary said incredulously. „You beat him again!“
Alex shrugged, a faint smile playing around his lips as he wiped his face with a cloth Gary handed him. Jon was doing the same for Alan, or trying to, but the redhead knocked the Prince´s hand aside roughly and stomped off. Alex watched the retreating figure of the younger boy and remarked casually “I got lucky.”
Gary snorted. “You got lucky the seventh time in a row, Tirragen. Seems like our Alan is out of shape lately.”
“Not out of shape”, Raoul chimed in. “He still beats everyone else. More like Alex got better. Have you been training secretly? And what interests me most - where do you get the time to exercise even more than you usually do? Does your day have more than 24 hours?”
Alex laughed, but offered no explanation, and the other boys did not insist on one. There was no explanation required, really; all that had happened was that the waging rivalry between the boys had come to a conclusion: Alex was the better fighter after all.
***
It had been this exact question that Alanna and Alex had agreed to resolve once and for all a fortnight ago. The training grounds had been empty, they had the whole place to themselves. Alanna was a little nervous, but confident. It had been a while since she had last fenced with Alex, and meanwhile she had learned quite a few new moves and worked on her stamina. There was a good chance that she could beat him.
However, it appeared that Alex had not been doing nothing either; their first round ended with a draw, both swordpoints directed at the other´s throat and chest respectively. Alex suggested fighting the next round with Tusaine knives, a fighting style he had picked up during a long border patrol, and Alanna, secretly delighted at the opportunity to surprise Alex with her knife fighting skills that she had acquired from George, consented.
She could tell that he was indeed surprised when she parried his attack with apparent ease, but he took in this information instantly and attacked anew, this time with more fervour, and she knew that the advantage her unexpected skill had given her was gone. Technically, it seemed, they were equally good, but Alex was taller and stronger, and so after fifteen minutes she found herself cornered against the wall, an ornate Tusaine knife pointed at her throat. With a small irritated laugh she let her own knife drop to the floor.
“I guess I should accompany you on that next patrol,” she said, trying to hide her anger under a light-hearted tone.
Amusement shone through his eyes as he replied “Yes, maybe you should.”
The knife was lowered, but only a few inches, until it pointed at the delicate pit between her collarbones. Alanna frowned. What did he expect of her? She was defenceless, that was pretty obvious - did he want her to say it aloud?
“I yield,” she complied, arching her eyebrows at him questioningly.
He smiled. “Good,” he said, and although he was quite close enough as it was, he took another step forward, and suddenly only inches separated their faces. Alanna froze. “Alex, what -“ she managed, and then his mouth was on hers, gently prying it open, the tip of his tongue tracing the contours of her lips, tasting her, teasing her… his body pressing against hers, and all the time the knife was not lowered, as if he´d forgotten that he was still pointing it at her. A wave of emotions crushed over her - confusion, fear, anger, but the one drowning all others out was pure longing, rushing through her veins like an injection of the most powerful magic. She thought her knees might give way as the desire seemed to make her whole body go limp, and suddenly she was glad that she was squeezed in between him and the wall…
How come he knows - that thought flickered up in her mind, but she was unable to follow it as she found herself kissing him back, her hand that had flown to his chest to push him back at first now tugging at his shirt to pull him closer, not that closer was possible at all… then some sober part of her wondered whether he really knew about her, or if he thought he was kissing Alan… and then his left hand that had been pressing her shoulder against the wall wandered downwards and came to rest on her bandaged breast, and that answered that question…
At some point, the knife was gone, and some time after that Alex let go of her, taking a step back, and she had to grab at his elbow in order not to stumble. His dark eyes were glazed over, and there was no trace of the smug smile he had worn before. He licked his lips and lifted his hand to his head, presumably to straighten his hair, and upon doing so realized that he was still holding the Tusaine knife. Quickly, he sheathed it, looking quite sheepish and about as old as he had been when they had first met, years ago.
For a few moments, they stared at each other, slowly regaining their breath. Then, as longing flowed out and was replaced by something else entirely, Alanna´s eyes narrowed, fury welling up in her violet eyes.
“You are not going to tell anybody,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Alex had apparently regained his composure. Calmly, he shrugged. “I won´t.” His lips curled into a crooked grin. “I suppose Jon wouldn´t like that.”
Alanna gasped. The nerve!
“You know perfectly well what I mean. Not just this - “ her hand fluttered in a gesture vaguely including the room, the incident, both of them, “also… this thing about me.” She did not dare say it aloud, did not want to confirm what he already knew.
He shook his head. “I won´t,” he repeated, but there was a glint in his eyes that worried her.
It was after that day that Alex kept winning all the fights.
***
It was something Roger had said, combined with a remark by the old woman who had been Alex´s childhood nurse that shed a new light on Alan´s numerous eccentricities.
Roger had said: “Watch Alan for me, Alex. This boy is hiding something, and I want to know what it is.”
Alex´s old nurse had said, after he dared to tell her that he had no memory whatsoever of the day she considered the most glamorous of her life: “Now don´t be such a dolt, my lad. I can´t believe that you don´t remember that Spring Ball your father gave when you were, what, six or seven! Why, all the Tortall noblesse came, even Trebond. Surely you must remember his children that he brought with him, twins - little redheads both of them, the girl all lively, the boy quite sullen? Now, you did not play with them, ´twas beneath a big boy like you to play with toddlers, but you might remember this other girl, a flaxen-haired darling named Carlotta, who was exactly your age, I wonder what became of her…”
And so Alex watched Alan like Roger had told him to, and all the while his nurse´s comment worked in the back of his mind, and after a while of watching and pondering, a number of things about the younger boy began to make perfect sense.
Like the fact that he never swam with them, and never even undressed in front of his friends, while all the others did so with the utmost naturalness. Another hint was Alan´s small stature and the fact that he still had his boyish looks at fifteen, an age where the other boys´ shoulders started to broaden, their voices deepened and facial hair started to spread.
And then there was the close relationship with the Prince. There was nothing that indicated that they were anything other than friends - if you did not know what to look for. Alex knew what to look for, and he registered things, subtle signs that the relationship between Jon and Alan went far beyond one that a knight shared with his squire.
Alan himself gave Alex the confirmation he needed. Alex could not believe his, or rather, her chutzpah as the girl he had come to know as Alan of Trebond actually turned up at the Midsummer Ball, and it was even harder to believe that nobody else recognized her. Certainly, she was wearing a dress and face paint and she had brunette hair (a wig probably), but for Alex, it was plain to see that it was Alan. Or Alanna, as it were.
It was not only the violet eyes - how many people had violet eyes, for Mithros´ sake? -, it was also the way she moved. Gracefully, yes, but not with the graceful movements of a court lady, rather with the elegance of a fighter.
Alex was almost insulted that she thought she could fool him by putting on a ridiculous wig. She should have known that he would recognize her by the way she moved. If there was anyone who paid attention to these things, it was Alex, and probably Alan himself, who had conveniently forgotten for the duration of this evening that only the best fighters had their opponents´ style engraved in their memory, that they would recognize a shadow solely by the way it twirled and the angle at which its sword arm described an arch while fencing… or dancing.
Naturally, Roger pressed Alex to tell him everything he could find out about Alan, and Alex fed him little bits and pieces of information that could or could not be important, enough to keep the Duke satisfied for a while, but the big secret, the one Roger was after, he kept to himself. He wasn´t sure why; he just knew that the mystery that Alan was intrigued him, and that he wanted to find out more about it before revealing it to anyone else.
***
Delia of Eldorne was a breathtaking beauty, slender as a willow branch, with green eyes, framed by the longest lashes, and a heart-shaped face. When she entered a room heads turned and conversations died down, while she graciously acted as if she didn´t notice anything unusual at all. She was always in the middle of everyone´s attention and dominated every conversation, even when she wasn´t speaking, because whatever was said around her was only said to impress her, or to make oneself look better in her eyes by making someone else look bad. A cloud of gossip and flattery always surrounded Delia. And she enjoyed it, in fact did the best she could to spread it around, regardless of whether she thought the rumours in question were true or not. She was a master at wordplay and would effortlessly produce the most poignant witticisms, and although genuinely disinterested in higher politics, she did not hesitate to offer her views on each and every subject, phrased so eloquently that even educated people could not help but agree with her, even though afterward, when they were alone, they might feel that she had, in spite of her brilliance, overlooked a point or two.
Alex found her tiresome and dull.
Oh, he could play the game just as well as her - the flattery, the small talk, the smiles, the elegance on the dance floor and in conversation, using a fantastic amount of fine-sounding words to express nothing at all - Alex was good at that. It was just a part of him though, something he had worked on and perfected, like his fencing skills. But it was all there was to Delia, and that got tedious after a while. A very short while.
Jon would get there, eventually, but for the moment, he was charmed. It was just like Delia not to attack directly. Where any other woman who knew the Prince´s attention on her would have done her utmost to impress him, keep him entertained, Delia seemed to barely notice him. It was clever, Alex had to hand her that, to focus her attention on someone else entirely, but on someone who was so close to the Prince that he could not possibly overlook how she was preferring this other man over him. Although in this case, the chosen victim could hardly be called a man, and even though most at court would have agreed on calling Alan of Trebond a boy, Alex knew better. The fact that he was the only one in the room who saw the whole picture amused Alex to no end.
He watched the spectacle the whole evening, watched Delia tease Alan and send him for drinks and telling Jon that, unfortunately, she had reserved all her upcoming dances for young Trebond, and wasn´t he a good-looking fellow? And then more dances, more games of the sort, until Alex thought Alan would throw up and Jon would explode any second; then the Prince insisted his squire surrender the next dance to him (Delia frowned, looking pretty even doing so), and Alan fled to the gardens.
It was by the Queen´s vegetable garden that Alex found her, hands buried deep in her pockets, staring holes into the cabbage patch.
“You won the prize of the evening, it seems,” he remarked casually as he slipped out of the shadows. Alanna didn´t flinch. She must have heard him coming.
“I don´t want it,” Alanna grumbled. “I´m not going back inside. If she asks for me, tell her I´m dead.”
Alex laughed. “She´s not likely to believe that. You should be flattered, you know. Every man in there would gladly trade places with you.”
Alanna snorted. One hand slipped out of her pocket, gesturing toward the illuminated ballroom that was filled with voices and laughter and music. “Please, I´m not stopping you. You can have my place. I´m not so keen on it as it might appear.”
Alex shook his head, watching her closely. “It looks as though the spot at Lady Delia´s side is currently occupied.” She flinched, he noted with satisfaction. “Besides, this piece of candy is too sticky for my tastes. It looks all delicious, but it fills you up quicker than you thought and afterwards you feel sick. Not worth it.”
She shot him a sharp glance. “You sound like you know what you are talking about.”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “She insisted. When Delia has set her mind on something, it is more tiresome to try and talk her out of it than to give her what she wants and be done with it.”
Alanna´s glance lingered on the palace. Her profile was turned to Alex, and he took in her face - her eyelashes, her mouth, the fragility of her cheekbones - and marvelled at how it was possible that no one had ever seen the truth, how it was possible that he had never seen it, when it was so plain to see.
“Fair enough,” she finally said, and there was something like hope in her voice. “You mean once she has what she wants, she gets bored easily?”
He tilted his head, giving her a crooked, not unsympathetic smile. “That depends on what she wants. I seriously doubt that she will let Jon off the hook so easily. That´s a much bigger fish than you or me.”
“I´m no fish at all,” Alanna remarked dryly. “Delia just doesn´t know.”
Alex nodded. For a while, they just stood there without speaking. Alex watched Alanna chew on her lower lip, as if debating with herself over what she was going to say next, and it wasn´t totally unexpected when she finally blurted out “How did you know?”
“I just guessed. Little things added up to one suspicion, and… well.”
He shrugged again, obviously not planning on telling her anything more substantial than that. She glowered at him, but that did not seem to impress him. He just kept looking at her calmly, casually leaning against the edge of the fountain, hands in his pockets, and it was she who lowered her gaze first.
“You look like you´re cold,” he said. “Shall we go back inside?”
“No.” Her eyes returned to his face with a sudden determination. “Why did you kiss me?” A slight blush tinged her cheeks. “Out of curiosity?”
He did not answer right away; then a half smile appeared on his lips. “Mostly.”
“I see.” She was surprised at the disappointment she felt. It wasn´t as if she had wanted him to kiss her, after all. She had never even thought of Alex that way. He had always been just one of her friends, and lately she hadn´t even been sure about that, what with him being so close to Roger…
Roger. She had been so concerned with Alex´s knowledge about her identity that she had not given the possible ramifications proper thought.
Now she shot him a sharp glance. “You promised not to tell anyone.”
“And I didn´t.”
“What if Roger asks you?”
He cocked one eyebrow. “What, if squire Alan is a girl? Now why would he?”
She shook her head impatiently. “Not that. Or - he might. I don´t know. You noticed, didn´t you? What if he does too?”
Alex chuckled softly. “He won´t. I know how Roger thinks, and I assure you that such a thought would not occur to him in a million years.”
It sounded like the truth, and if it wasn´t, there wasn´t much Alanna could do anyway. Suddenly she felt really cold, but just the thought of going back inside made her feel sick. She did not want to see Jon dance with Delia. And now that Delia had what she wanted, maybe they wouldn´t go looking for her. She could hide in the gardens until it was time to retreat, and if they inquired tomorrow, she would claim that she had been busy fetching drinks for ladies at the other end of the ballroom.
Alex was still looking at her, and Alanna suddenly felt awkward, as if he had been listening in on her thoughts. But then, her contrary nature that had always been both her blessing and her curse, decided that it should not be her feeling awkward. It wasn´t as if she had done anything wrong… Well, maybe apart from the big lie of her life, but even that one wasn´t relevant when it came to Alex. No need to lie to him anymore, at least.
She turned to him, raising her chin decidedly, a glimmer of mischief in her violet eyes.
“Would you kiss me again?”
He studied her, unmoving, for a few seconds before the familiar ironic smile appeared once again on his lips. His little bow was equally ironic, as was his tone of voice when he said, “Always happy to pose a distraction.”
This was too much irony to bear, and Alanna shied away from his arm that was reaching out to encircle her waist. He´d said he had kissed her out of curiosity, right? It wasn´t as if it meant more than that to him. So why was he being so… so… sarcastic? Because that´s how he is, isn´t it? Alanna reminded herself, but she couldn´t help feeling that there was more to it.
He didn´t move, waiting for her to decide the course of action. Alanna shook her head, a little embarrassed, and ventured, “We´d better go back inside. I´m afraid Delia might send out half the servants to find me if I don´t return in time for our next dance. That is, if she notices my absence at all. There is a small chance that she will.”
Alex gave her his arm to lead her back to the ballroom, then reconsidered and simply patted her on the shoulder. He grinned. “Would you like me to ask Delia for a dance or two? I´m pretty sure she wouldn´t decline.”
Alanna´s eyes grew wide. “Would you? Oh please, that would be such a relief!”
Alex laughed. “Anything for you, my friend. Even if it means the terrible fate of sharing a dance with the lovely Delia of Eldorne.”
“Yeah, like you haven´t shared more than just a dance with her,” Alanna muttered, half-jokingly. However, now the ballroom opened up before them, and she was so preoccupied looking out for Delia - and Jon - that she missed the peculiar glance Alex gave her.
***
Tonight they had gathered in Alex´s rooms, drinking and playing cards and exchanging the latest court talk. Raoul had protested at first. “You never get properly drunk, and you get tired early and then you make us leave while we´re still having fun!”
Alex had arched one eyebrow at this. “Last time when I threw you out the morning sun was already shining on your face, and you were snoring on my carpet. Rather loudly, I may add. Doesn´t sound like I spoiled any fun.”
Even though partying at Alex´s usually ended earlier than at, say, Raoul´s or Gary´s, they all agreed that his selection of wine was the best, and so finally decided to spend the evening there. Only Jon excused himself; he did not give a reason, but the wide grin on Gary´s face and the scowl on Alan´s was explanation enough.
Gary kept winning at cards, and if they had played for real money, Raoul would have left in nothing but his underpants and Alan would have lost Trebond that evening. Alex contended himself with drinking – wine and water alternately, unlike some of the others – and watching Alan. By midnight Raoul was drunkenly reminiscing about the glory of their page years, and when he finally broke out in tears at the memory of Francis, who had died of the Sweating Sickness, Gary heaved him up and put his arm around him, and they left for Raoul´s chambers. Alex noted that Alan wasn´t offering his help.
When the door had closed behind their friends, Alex poured the boy-who-was-a-girl a new glass of wine. Alanna shook her head, but after a moment of consideration she took it nonetheless. She stared into the dark red liquid, as if hoping to find the answer to a question she was pondering there, then sipped and put the glass back down on the table, right next to the glass she had been using all evening, which was untouched. She sighed. “I should be going too.”
“If you want.” Alex found that his mouth was dry, and he took a sip of wine. He was leaning against his desk, too restless to sit down properly. He wished she would just make up her mind and leave. Or not.
She looked up to him, violet eyes searching his face. “Would you mind if I stayed?”
“No.” He almost choked on the one word. She smiled, and the smile was so much Alan´s that it was impossible to say whether the person who was now getting up and crossing the small distance between them was the boy, his friend and rival, or the girl whose lips he still felt on his own ever since the day he had kissed her in the training hall. As she stood before him, close but not touching, his heart skipped several beats, helter-skelter like a drunkard falling down the stairs, and suddenly he knew, just knew that this was his last chance to turn and run before it was too late... but he hesitated, and in this moment of hesitation she put one hand on his shoulder, soft like snow, while the other snaked around his neck, and the next thing he knew he had both his hands buried in her red hair, messing it up, her lips opening up under his, welcoming his tongue, licking his lips, sucking them... he came up for air, moaning as she pressed her hip against his crotch. His hands pulled her shirt out of her trousers, slipped under it, searching, and found only more fabric, strapped so tightly over her chest that it was impossible to get under it, let alone get her out of it. A sparkling sound bubbled from her lips, and Alex was so caught in his desire that he took a moment to recognize it: Alanna was giggling.
“That won´t work,” she grinned. “Bandages are bound too tightly. Can´t afford to have them come down in the middle of a fight, right?”
“No,” he agreed, “though it would make for a great surprise effect.” He was glad that his wits had not left him completely, that he was still able to joke with Alanna as if she were Alan. However, he was swiftly reminded who he was holding in his arms as she pulled the shirt over her head, exposing delicate, if well-toned shoulders over multiple layers of bandages that triggered Alex´s imagination all the more despite perfectly fulfilling their function of hiding what no one must know about. Before she could set to work undoing them though, he scooped her up (“What the hell, Alex?!”) and carried her to his bedroom, stopping only to lock the door. One never knew what a drunken Raoul was up to; more than once had he stumbled back to the party he had been forced to leave and insisted on being served more wine.
It was already dawning when they fell asleep among the tangled sheets, their bodies so intertwined that they could hardly say where one began and the other ended. Which wasn´t important anyway, not today and not any of the days and weeks that followed.
***
Prince Jonathan was in Scanra on a diplomatic mission when the Sweating Sickness broke out in Corus again. This time, its course was milder, and most of the patients healed within a week. The only exception being page Alan. He seemed to get weaker and weaker, and not even Duke Baird was able to do anything against it. When Alex proposed that Duke Roger might be able to help, Alanna made such a scene that Alex did not dare mention it again for fear of upsetting the patient, but he did wonder why she was so opposed to letting Roger see her.
Four days after Alanna had taken sick, Duke Baird sent for Alex. This was surprising, since it was only two hours after he had left her side to get some rest himself, and Alex got dressed in a hurry and rushed over to her chambers, fearing the worst.
Duke Baird awaited him with creased eyebrows, not with the look of sadness Alex had half expected, and the young knight breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Alanna weak, but alive and awake. Behind Baird´s back, she shot him an imploring glance. And when Baird told him, in a hushed voice, why he had summoned him, he knew what was going on.
“Of course I will stay with him.”
Duke Baird sighed. “I don´t know why the lad is so damn stubborn. I mean, I do understand young men in their teens being uncomfortable with female nurses changing their clothes, even when they´re ill, but Alan wouldn´t even accept male nurses. He insisted I call Prince Jonathan, and when we reminded him that the prince had gone abroad, he wanted none other than you to tend to him. I know you are all good friends, and I am happy to hear that you will submit to his wishes, curious as they may seem; to tell the truth, I hold some hope that the loving care of a friend will contribute as much to his recovery as my healing powers.”
If Alex stiffened a little at the mention of Jonathan, Baird did not notice it. Determinedly, he pushed all jealous thoughts aside. She was sick, and she needed him. Well, maybe not him, but someone who knew who she was, someone she could trust. And at the moment, this someone appeared to be him.
***
This was just the beginning of Alanna´s illness, which got worse and worse and took her almost to the brink of death. Her fever rose, and hallucinations haunted her; she was crouching in fear of some unnameable threat once and talking to her brother the next moment, and Alex practically camped beside her bed and shooed everyone out of the room whenever she started hallucinating, lest she give herself away.
There wasn´t much he could do, apart from being there, taking care of her physical needs, stand aside whenever Duke Baird inspected her and convince Raoul and Gary that no, he really didn´t need a break, and that there really was no need for any of them replacing him for a while. Alanna never came to, whenever she was awake she was talking to people who weren´t there, or calling people who were present the wrong names; Alex found it particularly unsettling when she seemed to think that he was Roger and wouldn´t let him near her, glaring at him and balling her hands to weak fists. The next time she awoke she called him Thom and smiled and gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let go until she fell back asleep, her facial features relaxed and still bearing traces of her smile.
Finally, after days on end of leaving Alanna´s bedside with a worried expression on his face, there came the day when Baird stood up and smiled.
“It looks like he´s getting better,” he said, and Alex suddenly felt an extreme tension fall off his shoulders. Tiredness engulfed him, the lack of sleep attacking him without warning, and he nearly stumbled. Both him and Alanna slept for the next twelve hours, and when Alex awoke he found her eyes resting on him, seeing him, for the first time in, what, ten days? He crawled out of his sleeping bag and let himself plop onto the chair next to her bed.
“Hey.”
She smiled.
“Hey. You look like you need a shave.”
Alex felt his cheeks and chin. He definitely needed a shave. And something to eat, and a bath. But those things could wait just a little longer.
“Yeah, I guess so. Whereas you look like blooming spring itself. All set for a walk in the gardens.”
She laughed, feebly, a sound he had not realized he had missed until he heard it.
“I feel like a newborn kitten. Can barely lift my arms. But I guess I´ve been worse, huh?”
Alex nodded, and told her just how much worse she had been. He did not tell her everything - the hallucinations, for instance, being something he wasn´t comfortable talking about - but he spoke about her fever and how Duke Baird had come to see her three times a day and worked his healing powers on her, and how her own Gift seemed to have been drained out by the sickness. She was happy to hear that they had summoned Thom, and that he was on his way to Corus, even though she would probably have fully recovered by the time he arrived. They talked for a while, Alanna trying to make sense to the nightmares that had haunted her during her time of illness, and then they went on to lighter topics, and Alex reproduced whatever gossip Raoul and Gary had brought with them during their visits - which wasn´t much, since the situation with Alan had been too serious to allow idle gossiping. Neither of them heard the door open, and it was only when Alanna´s glance went over his shoulder and her face lit up that Alex realized they had a visitor, and he thought he might have an inkling of who it might be.
“Jon!”
“Alan, I - “ The Prince´s eyes were focused on his squire, his voice strangled with a mixture of anxiety and relief. Not really looking at the figure occupying the chair next to the bed, he said, absent-mindedly “I will take over, no need for you to stay. Thank you.”
Thank you indeed, Alex thought sarcastically, for sarcasm was way preferable over being hurt, or bitter, or outright angry, especially when those feelings were directed at your prince. He got up and gave Jon a curt nod, preparing to leave, when Jon stopped short and took a proper glance at him, muttering, “Oh, it´s you, Alex… well, thanks. Give my thanks to Raoul and Gary as well, please.”
For what? Stopping in for half an hour every day? But Alex did not say it, merely nodded, and left.
***
Someone, probably Duke Baird, must have told the Prince though; at least Alex could hardly find another explanation for the conversation that Jon found necessary the next day.
It was unusual in itself to be summoned to Jon´s rooms; if any of their group wanted to see another, the most common thing to do would be to go look for them themselves. And it wasn´t as if Alex was hard to find; he was either in his rooms, or the Training Grounds.
“So,” Jon began after he had poured Alex and himself goblets of wine in an attempt of inducing a relaxed atmosphere, but spoiling the picture by remaining standing. “I heard you spent the last ten days at Alan´s side, taking over, er, how to call it, the role of a nurse, more or less?”
Alex swirled the wine in the glass. He did not drink though.
“Yes, that´s right.”
Why make it easy on him? Let Jon struggle a bit, let him in the dark about just how much Alex knew, for a while at least. It was too amusing to watch, and amusement was clearly lacking in Alex´s life these days.
Jon´s eyes narrowed, just a bit.
“How come Baird chose you for that purpose?”
Alex smiled.
“He didn´t. Alan did.”
Jon sighed, impatiently.
“So how come Alan chose you?”
Now Alex lifted his goblet, regarding its contents, taking a sip, all with the air of a man who has all the time in the world. Letting Jon steam was a distorted kind of joy, he was aware of that, but since it was all the joy left to him, he was prepared to take it.
“Maybe…”, he began after setting down the goblet, still uncertain on how to proceed, but then suddenly deciding that he did not give a damn, “maybe it´s because she did not trust any of the regular nurses to keep her secret.”
Jon´s knuckles around his goblet turned white, and Alex set down his own goblet on a table next to them. If it came to fighting, he didn´t want to hold a glass in his hand. Nasty mess, getting glass splinters out of your flesh.
“That is still lacking in terms of an explanation,” Jonathan hissed. Alex raised his eyebrows. His amusement over seeing Jon lose his nerve surprised himself, but it was there, a part of him that had always resented Jon, triumphing at this moment of predominance over the Prince - a man who had been brought up to think that whatever he wanted was his, and even if he had discarded something he did not want anymore he had the right to change his mind at any given time and demand it back. There was no way Alex would reveal to Jon that Alanna´s first request had been for him, the Prince, to be at her side.
Alex shrugged, deciding he did not care anymore. “To put it more precisely: she needed someone to change and wash her. Preferably someone who wouldn´t be all too surprised upon seeing her naked and realizing that page Alan was not quite who he pretended to be.”
Jon´s eyes had now turned an icy kind of blue, the coldness penetrating his voice as well as he forced out his next question: “And where would you have seen her naked before?”
Contrary to Jon, who was getting tenser by the minute, Alex seemed all relaxed. He was well aware that Jon was hoping for an answer along the lines of I stumbled upon her when she was bathing in the lake or some such sort, and he creased his brow, as if trying to recall this sort of incident.
“Mostly,” he began, gazing at a point somewhere above Jon´s head distractedly, before he let his eyes dart back to Jon´s face, “in my bed.” A faint smile appeared on his lips.
He was prepared for the blow, but it did not come, in spite of Jon´s eyes shooting daggers at him and his hands balling into fists. But he did not attack, and Alex was torn between disappointment and grudging admiration of the Prince´s self-control as the seconds ticked away and Jon still hadn´t made an attempt at blackening his eye, at the very least.
Finally, Jon took one step back as if he wasn´t trusting himself not to seize on Alex if he kept standing too close, and growled “Get out of here, you slimy little bastard!”
Alex´s smile did not fade, and with a small ironic nod he seemed to acknowledge the title of honour given to him. He had barely closed the door behind himself when he heard the shattering of glass against the doorframe.
***
She found him in the weaponry, looking for a spare bow to replace the one he had broken during the last hunt. She wasn´t looking for any weapons though; it had been her purpose to find him, alone, in a place where they couldn´t be overheard so easily.
He refused to acknowledge her presence, taking bow after bow from the wall, drawing each one, weighing them in one hand, while Alanna watched him from the door. Finally, she stepped inside, taking a light middle-sized bow from the wall and handing it to him.
“This one´s not too bad. None of them are as good as your own, but that´s not the point of a weaponry, right? It´ll replace your bow just fine until you get yourself a new one made.”
For a moment, she thought he would continue with his act of ignoring her, but eventually he pried his eyes from the wall and took the bow she was handing him, pointedly avoiding her gaze.
“Alex…” she said, hesitatingly. “Jon and I -“
“I know,” he cut her off sharply. “Anything else you wanted to say?”
She sighed. “I never knew it meant that much to you.”
He stared at her for a few moments, then his face distorted into a perverted version of his usual easy smile, a joyless wolfish grin that made Alanna want to take a step back. Alex snorted.
“Do you have any idea how conceited you sound? I guess sharing a prince´s bed does that to you. No, don´t worry, I knew from the start that this would only go on as long as Jonathan was busy tasting more delicate fruit.”
He registered with satisfaction how she flinched, how her maddeningly sympathetic expression turned into a scowl. Gripping the bow she had chosen for him tighter, he made for the door, trusting that she would move aside if he followed his course with enough determination. And she did, but before he had passed by her she said, quickly, “I thought we might be able to stay friends.”
Alex turned to face her, a move that cost him quite an effort since they were standing too close together as it was. He was fairly pleased with the factual tone of voice he mastered as he replied “I was friends with Alan.”
Alanna held him back once more, stretching out her hand and withdrawing it at once, but the movement served its purpose, and Alex remained standing there, granting her what he hoped was an appropriately non-committal look. She gulped.
“Does it have to end that way, Alex?”
He smiled once again, and this time it was bright and cheerful and almost understanding.
“This is not the end,” he said softly, and that was the truth.