Post by Muse on May 31, 2013 4:15:05 GMT 10
Title: Black City Paradox IV
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 674
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: They avoid the worst part of City, but at the end, what they would have found within comes and finds them.
AN: Another Paradox prompt, #4; "Alanna and Jon neither do nor do not go to the Black City"
It’s very nice, Alanna says. Now let’s go.
Jon looks up, amused at where Alanna stands, exactly one step into the City. “Come on, you ‘fraidy cat. Let’s look around some more—the City’s huge.”
Looking around, Alanna sees strings of symbols gouged into the black stone that makes up every surface she can see, and shudders. Something pulses against her awareness, and she moves only far enough into the City to keep Jon in her sights.
When he gestures into the shadowy entrance of one of the strange stone buildings, Alanna folds her arms tightly across her chest. “Absolutely not,” she shouts across the open stone roadways, her apprehension dissolving into a trembling at her core that she cannot calm.
Jon leans forward, into the door, and Alanna tenses, ready to leap forward if he slides into the darkness within.
“…Fine,” he huffs exasperatedly, and Alanna leads them both out of the City as fast as her feet can take her without explicitly running.
Jon is silent the whole way back to Persopolis, and the lecture that Lord Martin reads them is impressive indeed. Alanna places all the blame squarely on Jon’s shoulders, and escapes with minimal punishment chores.
Jon still asks her to be his squire, on the ride back to Corus, and Alanna accepts, hesitantly, looking over her shoulder at the western horizon and the City she knows hides just out of her sight.
The chills brought on by the City fade with time, but Alanna continues to see the City in visions. It’s in the glint of metal at the River Drell. It’s in the flames of a pyre in the desert. It’s in the cave with Chitral, and the dread comes back full force, driving her back across the continent to Corus and Jonathan with a foreign princess in tow.
When the crown is lowered onto Jonathan’s brow, a crack of sickly yellow green magic echoes across the room. Alanna grabs at her ember stone as she runs to Jon’s side. Suddenly, orange light lines the figures that have appeared on the dais with them, and Alanna’s stomach plunges to her feet. The memory, from years ago, runs through her mind, of the Duke of Conte and his gem, all but compelling them to go to the City.
Roger. The palace shakes, and Alanna fumbles to her feet as, from every direction, men at arms pour into the Hall of Crowns wearing the colors of Eldorne and Tirragen. She wrenches her eyes away from the scene behind her and faces the figures that stand dangerously close to Jonathan himself, who is still cloaked from sight by blazing magical fire.
“Hello again, kitten,” one purrs, and waves a hand.
In an instant, Alanna feels the bindings that she has worn since she was a page disappear, and she knows that her figure is silhouetted perfectly against the flare of magic.
“Alan?” Jon gasps, the white magic of the crown mixing with his own blue Gift and obscuring his vision enough that he doesn’t see what is suddenly revealed to the rest of the Court.
Alanna ignores the curves suddenly showing through her ceremonial tunic, revealing her greatest secret, and unsheathes Lightning.
I may be a girl, but I can defend—or attack!—as well as any boy! Alanna growls at the figures, who laugh.
“Alan?” Jon stumbles to his feet, and Alanna grabs one of his hands. Without hesitation, Jon clasps her hand, his gaze momentarily caught. He looks her up and down, gaping a little, confusion mixed with something else Alanna has no time to identify. She squeezes his hand in hers, hard, and Jon’s attention returns to the situation at hand.
“Cover me,” she says, watching the figures—the Nameless Ones—through the seething magics that surround the both of them now.
“Just don’t let go of me,” Jonathan cautions, and Alanna shoots him a feral grin.
“I won’t.”
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 674
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: They avoid the worst part of City, but at the end, what they would have found within comes and finds them.
AN: Another Paradox prompt, #4; "Alanna and Jon neither do nor do not go to the Black City"
It’s very nice, Alanna says. Now let’s go.
Jon looks up, amused at where Alanna stands, exactly one step into the City. “Come on, you ‘fraidy cat. Let’s look around some more—the City’s huge.”
Looking around, Alanna sees strings of symbols gouged into the black stone that makes up every surface she can see, and shudders. Something pulses against her awareness, and she moves only far enough into the City to keep Jon in her sights.
When he gestures into the shadowy entrance of one of the strange stone buildings, Alanna folds her arms tightly across her chest. “Absolutely not,” she shouts across the open stone roadways, her apprehension dissolving into a trembling at her core that she cannot calm.
Jon leans forward, into the door, and Alanna tenses, ready to leap forward if he slides into the darkness within.
“…Fine,” he huffs exasperatedly, and Alanna leads them both out of the City as fast as her feet can take her without explicitly running.
Jon is silent the whole way back to Persopolis, and the lecture that Lord Martin reads them is impressive indeed. Alanna places all the blame squarely on Jon’s shoulders, and escapes with minimal punishment chores.
Jon still asks her to be his squire, on the ride back to Corus, and Alanna accepts, hesitantly, looking over her shoulder at the western horizon and the City she knows hides just out of her sight.
The chills brought on by the City fade with time, but Alanna continues to see the City in visions. It’s in the glint of metal at the River Drell. It’s in the flames of a pyre in the desert. It’s in the cave with Chitral, and the dread comes back full force, driving her back across the continent to Corus and Jonathan with a foreign princess in tow.
When the crown is lowered onto Jonathan’s brow, a crack of sickly yellow green magic echoes across the room. Alanna grabs at her ember stone as she runs to Jon’s side. Suddenly, orange light lines the figures that have appeared on the dais with them, and Alanna’s stomach plunges to her feet. The memory, from years ago, runs through her mind, of the Duke of Conte and his gem, all but compelling them to go to the City.
Roger. The palace shakes, and Alanna fumbles to her feet as, from every direction, men at arms pour into the Hall of Crowns wearing the colors of Eldorne and Tirragen. She wrenches her eyes away from the scene behind her and faces the figures that stand dangerously close to Jonathan himself, who is still cloaked from sight by blazing magical fire.
“Hello again, kitten,” one purrs, and waves a hand.
In an instant, Alanna feels the bindings that she has worn since she was a page disappear, and she knows that her figure is silhouetted perfectly against the flare of magic.
“Alan?” Jon gasps, the white magic of the crown mixing with his own blue Gift and obscuring his vision enough that he doesn’t see what is suddenly revealed to the rest of the Court.
Alanna ignores the curves suddenly showing through her ceremonial tunic, revealing her greatest secret, and unsheathes Lightning.
I may be a girl, but I can defend—or attack!—as well as any boy! Alanna growls at the figures, who laugh.
“Alan?” Jon stumbles to his feet, and Alanna grabs one of his hands. Without hesitation, Jon clasps her hand, his gaze momentarily caught. He looks her up and down, gaping a little, confusion mixed with something else Alanna has no time to identify. She squeezes his hand in hers, hard, and Jon’s attention returns to the situation at hand.
“Cover me,” she says, watching the figures—the Nameless Ones—through the seething magics that surround the both of them now.
“Just don’t let go of me,” Jonathan cautions, and Alanna shoots him a feral grin.
“I won’t.”