Post by Seek on Apr 14, 2013 7:59:52 GMT 10
Title: The Dead Land
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 604 words.
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: AU, Roger wins. Alanna and Jon face off against the darkness, one last time.
Warnings: Very, very dark.
-
The land is a wasteland of broken stone, ruined columns and hollow bones. The last of Tortall’s streams have dried up.
It was Jonathan of Conte who did it, the people whisper. Their own king who turned their land against them, whose sorcery sucked the land dry, bleeding it of every last iota of magic left, turning Tortall into a barren deadland incapable of supporting life. This is only half true; Jon wielded the Dominion Jewel, struggling to bind the land together to foil Roger’s earthquake spell. In order to prevent Roger from shattering the land, he destroyed it. It is a strange irony that Jon has destroyed Tortall to save it.
The Young King, they call him. Less charitably: the Usurper, the Breaker, the Destroyer, the Pretender. As if, Alanna thinks, the past years have taught them to pretend everything that came before in the years of sunlight and fertile harvests was a lie; that the throne had always been Roger’s and never Jonathan’s.
Jon screams, in his sleep. What has happened to the Dominion Jewel, what he has done with it, she does not know. Alanna does not ask, and Jon does not tell her. It is better that way. She sits by the small fire, whetting the edge of Lightning, cleaning the blood off her sword. A while later, Jon awakens and joins her. She offers him a small square of hard cheese, and a waterskin. It is bone-dry, but she offers it anyway, and he tries to drink anyway.
“What news?”
Nothing, she thinks. Scanra, the Northern Wolf, nips at Tortall’s heels. Tusaine and Galla have designs on parts of Tortall, and the banners of Eldorne, Tirragen and Conte fly in Corus. Tortall is a broken land, a fractured land, being devoured slowly from within and without.
“Liam will be back shortly,” she says instead.
The cloud of dust announces the Shang Dragon’s arrival. Eyes pale with weariness, Liam Ironarm slips from the saddle. “Bad news, Jon,” he says. “They’ve taken Raoul. Northwatch has fallen.”
“Goddess,” Alanna whispers. She does not know if this is an oath or a prayer. Perhaps both. Jon bows his head, too numb to reply.
“They’re coming now,” Liam adds. “Here.”
They have only a small rebel army, Alanna knows. Too few fiefs have remained loyal to Jon, and Roger has been quick to splinter resistance into pockets and then break them one by one. They are perhaps the last of Jon’s band of supporters, poised at the tip of destruction. And at last, doom has come for them.
“Thank you, Liam,” Jon finally says. “Have the men ready arms.”
“I’ll see to it,” Liam says, and he remounts and rides off.
“I’ve thought of turning myself in,” Jon says, quietly, once Liam has left.
“No,” Alanna said immediately. “Jon. You sent Thayet away, because you wanted your child to have the chance we don’t. Buri agreed, and so she left with Thayet. Even if Roger kills us here, we win. We win as long as we fight. As long as we don’t give up. So that one day, a long time into the future, when your child grows up and hears of this, she or he will know that you didn’t give up. That some people cared enough to fight for what was right. For Tortall.”
He laughed, quietly. “Gods, Alanna. What would I do without you?”
The banners of Tirragen, Eldorne, and Conte flew in the distant dark. They prepared themselves for battle. For one last stand. The Lioness and the Young King, Alanna and Jon stood together, swords drawn.
The darkness came.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 604 words.
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 1A
Summary: AU, Roger wins. Alanna and Jon face off against the darkness, one last time.
Warnings: Very, very dark.
-
The land is a wasteland of broken stone, ruined columns and hollow bones. The last of Tortall’s streams have dried up.
It was Jonathan of Conte who did it, the people whisper. Their own king who turned their land against them, whose sorcery sucked the land dry, bleeding it of every last iota of magic left, turning Tortall into a barren deadland incapable of supporting life. This is only half true; Jon wielded the Dominion Jewel, struggling to bind the land together to foil Roger’s earthquake spell. In order to prevent Roger from shattering the land, he destroyed it. It is a strange irony that Jon has destroyed Tortall to save it.
The Young King, they call him. Less charitably: the Usurper, the Breaker, the Destroyer, the Pretender. As if, Alanna thinks, the past years have taught them to pretend everything that came before in the years of sunlight and fertile harvests was a lie; that the throne had always been Roger’s and never Jonathan’s.
Jon screams, in his sleep. What has happened to the Dominion Jewel, what he has done with it, she does not know. Alanna does not ask, and Jon does not tell her. It is better that way. She sits by the small fire, whetting the edge of Lightning, cleaning the blood off her sword. A while later, Jon awakens and joins her. She offers him a small square of hard cheese, and a waterskin. It is bone-dry, but she offers it anyway, and he tries to drink anyway.
“What news?”
Nothing, she thinks. Scanra, the Northern Wolf, nips at Tortall’s heels. Tusaine and Galla have designs on parts of Tortall, and the banners of Eldorne, Tirragen and Conte fly in Corus. Tortall is a broken land, a fractured land, being devoured slowly from within and without.
“Liam will be back shortly,” she says instead.
The cloud of dust announces the Shang Dragon’s arrival. Eyes pale with weariness, Liam Ironarm slips from the saddle. “Bad news, Jon,” he says. “They’ve taken Raoul. Northwatch has fallen.”
“Goddess,” Alanna whispers. She does not know if this is an oath or a prayer. Perhaps both. Jon bows his head, too numb to reply.
“They’re coming now,” Liam adds. “Here.”
They have only a small rebel army, Alanna knows. Too few fiefs have remained loyal to Jon, and Roger has been quick to splinter resistance into pockets and then break them one by one. They are perhaps the last of Jon’s band of supporters, poised at the tip of destruction. And at last, doom has come for them.
“Thank you, Liam,” Jon finally says. “Have the men ready arms.”
“I’ll see to it,” Liam says, and he remounts and rides off.
“I’ve thought of turning myself in,” Jon says, quietly, once Liam has left.
“No,” Alanna said immediately. “Jon. You sent Thayet away, because you wanted your child to have the chance we don’t. Buri agreed, and so she left with Thayet. Even if Roger kills us here, we win. We win as long as we fight. As long as we don’t give up. So that one day, a long time into the future, when your child grows up and hears of this, she or he will know that you didn’t give up. That some people cared enough to fight for what was right. For Tortall.”
He laughed, quietly. “Gods, Alanna. What would I do without you?”
The banners of Tirragen, Eldorne, and Conte flew in the distant dark. They prepared themselves for battle. For one last stand. The Lioness and the Young King, Alanna and Jon stood together, swords drawn.
The darkness came.