Post by opalgirl on Apr 22, 2010 12:10:13 GMT 10
Title: The Spymistress Cries
Rating: PG
Length: 468 words
Summary: Aly receives news of her twin's death during the Tusaine siege of Corus.
Author’s Notes: Set within Mandi/Journeycat's 'The Last Conte' AU.
Aly was restless and on edge for a week before the message arrived. She had kept one ear to the ground for news of how Tortall was faring in her battle against Tusaine and Scanra, but there had been no bad reports. She had no reason to feel so unsettled, but she did. So she scrutinized Nawat, the triplets, Dove, and anyone else who came near her with her Sight and found nothing.
Acting on her suspicions, she rounded up the children and had them examined by a healer, who proclaimed them all to be in the pink of health. She contacted her pack of agents, who were all in one piece. Dove no longer faced rebellion and was perfectly well. She wanted to send a coded message home to her father or grandfather, but did not dare; with Tortall at war, it could easily be intercepted and decoded and it would place far too many people at risk.
As she sifted through the piles of coded information that arrived daily to sit upon her big desk and wait for her attention, one bundle in particular caught her eye. She opened it and went to work on the code, possibly one of the most complex ones used in the Eastern Lands.
Aly would later wonder how she hadn't recognized her father's hand and then remember that her Da could mimic any number of handwriting styles. She swore and crumpled the parchment she'd decoded the message onto with one hand and stood up, the movement purely instinctive.
Murderers, she thought furiously, tossing the decoded message into the fire. Murdering pieces of scum.
The City of the Gods and Port Caynn had fallen to the advancing forces and Corus was now under siege. Alan had been slain in the siege of the capital and someone had had the decency to send him—what was left of him—home to their parents. Aly fisted her hands in her sarong, as tears burned and pricked at her eyes.
She and Alan had always known when something had happened to the other; Alan had known when she'd been concussed after being thrown from a horse and when she'd fallen from a tree and broken her arm. Aly had known when her brother had half-drowned in the cove at home and when he'd blacked an eye and cracked ribs 'falling down' while he was at the palace.
Her twin's death explained why she had felt so uneasy, as if something was wrong. She slumped back into her chair, bowed her head, and cried for her twin. He had died defending Tortall, as futile as it now seemed, and she would do her best to see him avenged. She could not mourn him long—it was not something Alan would have wanted—but she would.
Rating: PG
Length: 468 words
Summary: Aly receives news of her twin's death during the Tusaine siege of Corus.
Author’s Notes: Set within Mandi/Journeycat's 'The Last Conte' AU.
***
Aly was restless and on edge for a week before the message arrived. She had kept one ear to the ground for news of how Tortall was faring in her battle against Tusaine and Scanra, but there had been no bad reports. She had no reason to feel so unsettled, but she did. So she scrutinized Nawat, the triplets, Dove, and anyone else who came near her with her Sight and found nothing.
Acting on her suspicions, she rounded up the children and had them examined by a healer, who proclaimed them all to be in the pink of health. She contacted her pack of agents, who were all in one piece. Dove no longer faced rebellion and was perfectly well. She wanted to send a coded message home to her father or grandfather, but did not dare; with Tortall at war, it could easily be intercepted and decoded and it would place far too many people at risk.
As she sifted through the piles of coded information that arrived daily to sit upon her big desk and wait for her attention, one bundle in particular caught her eye. She opened it and went to work on the code, possibly one of the most complex ones used in the Eastern Lands.
Aly would later wonder how she hadn't recognized her father's hand and then remember that her Da could mimic any number of handwriting styles. She swore and crumpled the parchment she'd decoded the message onto with one hand and stood up, the movement purely instinctive.
Murderers, she thought furiously, tossing the decoded message into the fire. Murdering pieces of scum.
The City of the Gods and Port Caynn had fallen to the advancing forces and Corus was now under siege. Alan had been slain in the siege of the capital and someone had had the decency to send him—what was left of him—home to their parents. Aly fisted her hands in her sarong, as tears burned and pricked at her eyes.
She and Alan had always known when something had happened to the other; Alan had known when she'd been concussed after being thrown from a horse and when she'd fallen from a tree and broken her arm. Aly had known when her brother had half-drowned in the cove at home and when he'd blacked an eye and cracked ribs 'falling down' while he was at the palace.
Her twin's death explained why she had felt so uneasy, as if something was wrong. She slumped back into her chair, bowed her head, and cried for her twin. He had died defending Tortall, as futile as it now seemed, and she would do her best to see him avenged. She could not mourn him long—it was not something Alan would have wanted—but she would.
Great job!
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!