Post by Muse on May 31, 2013 22:37:28 GMT 10
Title: Crystal Sword Paradox II
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 440
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: There is no reason for Roger to want Alanna's sword.
Warnings: Character deaths in canon event.
AN: Another Paradox prompt, #2; "Alanna does not find the crystal sword"
One of the first things Alanna does after arriving in Corus is pay a visit to the Raven Armory.
For three days, her empty hands itch without a blade.
For three nights, her dreams are filled with greasy, cold, slippery coils and curls that repeat endlessly.
Alanna wakes with the memory of a strange, crystal blade buried deep in the desert sands in the front of her mind, breathing hard in the weak, early morning sun until George wraps an arm around her waist sleepily.
The familiar weight of Lightning in her hands banishes the uneasy feeling Alanna’s been carrying with her out of the desert, but it doesn’t banish the dreams.
Pale and wan, Alanna escorts Thayet and the Jewel to Jon. She kneels, lays Lightning at his feet, and waits for the ceremony to end.
She lays herself at Jon’s feet, exhausted, afterwards. His fingertips, glowing a gentle blue, touch her temples and she does not dream.
Or, if she does, she does not remember.
Jon asks her about the dreams, in the frenetic days leading up to the Coronation. She fingers the hilt of her blade and tries not to remember where she had seen those coils and curls before.
She doesn’t tell him what she dreams, and she doesn’t tell him how little she sleeps.
At least this time, Jon is suspicious of Roger too.
At the altar, while the floor shakes and metallic nausea rises in her throat, Alanna shoves the Jewel and her magic at Jonathan before she pelts from the room, leaving his magic-cloaked figure to try and keep the world from falling to pieces.
Roger laughs, when she finds him in the catacombs.
The metal taste in her mouth leaves her gagging.
Coils and curls spill across the floor, spreading from under Roger’s feet and reaching for Alanna.
They should have known—Alanna reaches for her Gift, but it’s tied up around Jon, around and in and through and Jon is blazing in the middle of a circle of magic.
Alanna hopes it will be enough.
When Roger’s magic rises out of the writhing patterns on the floor, blood red and belly churning, the crystal at Lightning’s pommel blazes.
Another quake, a mother shaker, rocks the foundations.
Jon’s grip is slipping.
The ember at Alanna’s throat burns.
She gasps—
And blood-red surrounds her, cutting her off.
The crystal on Lightning’s hilt is extinguished when the sword drops from her hand.
Roger laughs.
The next shake buries the last of the Conte line in rubble, sapphire magic blinking out.
Roger laughs.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 440
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 3A
Summary: There is no reason for Roger to want Alanna's sword.
Warnings: Character deaths in canon event.
AN: Another Paradox prompt, #2; "Alanna does not find the crystal sword"
One of the first things Alanna does after arriving in Corus is pay a visit to the Raven Armory.
For three days, her empty hands itch without a blade.
For three nights, her dreams are filled with greasy, cold, slippery coils and curls that repeat endlessly.
Alanna wakes with the memory of a strange, crystal blade buried deep in the desert sands in the front of her mind, breathing hard in the weak, early morning sun until George wraps an arm around her waist sleepily.
The familiar weight of Lightning in her hands banishes the uneasy feeling Alanna’s been carrying with her out of the desert, but it doesn’t banish the dreams.
Pale and wan, Alanna escorts Thayet and the Jewel to Jon. She kneels, lays Lightning at his feet, and waits for the ceremony to end.
She lays herself at Jon’s feet, exhausted, afterwards. His fingertips, glowing a gentle blue, touch her temples and she does not dream.
Or, if she does, she does not remember.
Jon asks her about the dreams, in the frenetic days leading up to the Coronation. She fingers the hilt of her blade and tries not to remember where she had seen those coils and curls before.
She doesn’t tell him what she dreams, and she doesn’t tell him how little she sleeps.
At least this time, Jon is suspicious of Roger too.
At the altar, while the floor shakes and metallic nausea rises in her throat, Alanna shoves the Jewel and her magic at Jonathan before she pelts from the room, leaving his magic-cloaked figure to try and keep the world from falling to pieces.
Roger laughs, when she finds him in the catacombs.
The metal taste in her mouth leaves her gagging.
Coils and curls spill across the floor, spreading from under Roger’s feet and reaching for Alanna.
They should have known—Alanna reaches for her Gift, but it’s tied up around Jon, around and in and through and Jon is blazing in the middle of a circle of magic.
Alanna hopes it will be enough.
When Roger’s magic rises out of the writhing patterns on the floor, blood red and belly churning, the crystal at Lightning’s pommel blazes.
Another quake, a mother shaker, rocks the foundations.
Jon’s grip is slipping.
The ember at Alanna’s throat burns.
She gasps—
And blood-red surrounds her, cutting her off.
The crystal on Lightning’s hilt is extinguished when the sword drops from her hand.
Roger laughs.
The next shake buries the last of the Conte line in rubble, sapphire magic blinking out.
Roger laughs.