Post by zeebusbeebus on Aug 7, 2013 21:34:31 GMT 10
Title: The Legend
Summary: People need to believe in the power of legends for all sorts of reasons.
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: I always thought it was cute in Trickster's Choice when Aly was totally aghast at the idea her mother might get tired or could lose, and I basically just wanted to write a fic where Alan does the same thing. I liked how Aly is so cynical towards her mother, but at the same time she totally buys into the legends surrounding Alanna because they kept her from worrying about how dangerous her mother’s life is (Alanna the Lioness doesn’t get tired, therefore Alanna the Mother will never lose a challenge and thus die).
So anywho, I tried to replicate that concept here, you’ll have to tell me how I did.
--
Alanna slid into a seat across from Raoul in the Giantkiller mess hall, jolting him out of the paperwork he was reviewing.
"Whoa! Hey, when did you get here?" he asked, reaching over the table to excitedly thump her back.
"Just now. I dropped my things off and came straight here, I’m starving," she groaned.
"You’d have to be to want to eat here," Raoul quipped. She did look like she had just returned from the road, all dirty and weary. Her plate was heaped with leftovers from the evening meal, and she carried a cup full of what appeared to be warm cider.
Alanna began quickly shoveling food into her mouth, and he waited for her to swallow before asking, “So what brings you to our humble fort?"
"I got to take some time at the Swoop, and I thought to stretch the visit out by leaving later and riding hard to get back to Frasurland on time." She shook her head ruefully. “Sometimes I forget that I’m an old lady now, and I can’t ride for days without stopping like I used to."
Raoul chuckled and replied, “Don’t call yourself old. If you’re old, than what am I?"
"Older," Alanna said around a mouthful of food, and he laughed.
Before Raoul could manage a retort the door to the mess banged open, emitting a flustered Alan. He quickly scanned the dimly illuminated room, and upon seeing his mother, Alan sprinted down the rows of tables towards them.
"Do you have letters for me?" Alan panted as he approached.
"Well hello to you too," Alanna said drily, setting her fork down.
"Sorry Ma." Alan quickly bent to kiss her cheek, then asked in a rush, “Hi, how are you? How was the ride? How is father? Do you have any letters for me?"
Alanna sighed. “Hello. I’m fine, the ride was long, your father is well, and yes, I have letters for you. One from your father, one from each of your siblings, and three from a lady." She raised an eyebrow and said, "Somebody is certainly very interested in talking to you."
Alan didn’t take the bait. “Where are they?" He looked around eagerly, as though she might be hiding the mail under her plate.
"In my trunk. I’ll get them for you when I’m done eating." Alanna picked her fork back up.
"What? Why can’t I have them now?" Alan’s voice verged on petulance, and Raoul hid a smile.
"Because I’m tired and I’m hungry and I would like to sit and eat for a moment!" Alanna snapped. “I will bring you your letters as soon as I finish."
"I can just get them myself, where is your trunk?" Alan danced in place impatiently.
"It’s in the barracks but-" Before Alanna could complete her sentence Alan took off. She stood up and yelled across the mostly empty mess, “Hey! It’s locked, you can’t get in it right now."
Alan looked back over his shoulder, one hand already opening the mess door and called, “It’s fine, I have my lock picks with me."
Alanna was flushed with annoyance. “No, no it is not fine, I don’t want you going through my things."
Alan looked genuinely nonplussed as he drifted back to their table. “Why not? What do you have that’s so private?"
Raoul covered his laughter with a cough, and hastily busied himself with intently reading a supply request form. Oh Alan. Raoul settled in for a long argument, knowing from experience how impetuous and obstinate his squire could be. Not unlike someone else I know, the big knight thought as he eyed Alanna.
She gritted her teeth, then said tersely, “You can sit down and wait. When I am done eating I will go and get you your mail. If I hear another word about it I’ll hold your letters until tomorrow." She sat down, and resolutely picked her fork up again.
Alan slumped, rolling his head back dramatically and sighing. Raoul shot Alanna an amused look, but she only closed her eyes, took a deep breath in through her nose, and began to eat again.
Alan shuffled closer, then sat straddling the rough wooden bench so that he faced his mother. His eyes were huge and pleading, and his lower lip trembled in a perfect imitation of a pout. Raoul noted that Alanna’s jaw tensed, and she tried to avoid looking in Alan’s direction.
He scooted closer, watching her in silence. Alanna drummed her fingers uncomfortably on the table, her fork frozen in midair. Alan leaned in slightly, so she could see his pathetic expression better.
"Oh, for Mithros’ sake!" Alanna snarled, dropping her fork angrily on her plate. “If I get you your cursed letters will you let me alone to eat?"
"Yes, yes! Oh thank you mother!" Alan leapt up to throw his arms around her, heedless of her outburst. Alanna’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling again, but Raoul couldn’t help but notice a faint smile at the corner of her mouth when her son embraced her.
"Fine, wait here," she sighed, and took off out the mess door.
Raoul cocked an eyebrow at his squire, who was looking at his mother’s plate with a hungry gleam to his eye. Usually he didn’t care to get involved in these kinds of things, but technically Alan was his responsibility now.
"You should be nicer to your mother. She’s exhausted, let her rest for a spell," Raoul said quietly.
Alan looked up at him, startled. “Mother doesn’t get tired," he said patiently, as though Raoul were a foolish child.
"Of course she does," Raoul said peevishly. “She’s a person just like anyone else."
Raoul was surprised at how irate Alan became. His squire’s tone bordered on insubordinate when he snapped, “No, she’s not like other people. She’s Alanna the Lioness, she doesn’t get tired and weak!"
Raoul said nothing; instead he turned his attention back to the paper in his hands while his squire glowered at him. Alan tapped his foot agitatedly as the silence stretched out between them. Raoul wasn’t concerned; the boy couldn’t keep a foul mood going for much longer than a day without getting bored and moving on. He hummed quietly, flipping through the pile.
After a short time had passed Alanna returned to the mess, carrying a small bundle under her arm. She tossed it into her son’s lap as she dropped into her seat on the bench.
"Are you happy now?" she asked while Alan hugged his package to his chest.
"Yes, thank you Mother," he said. He hopped up, still squeezing his letters tightly, and made to head for the door. Suddenly he stopped, and turned around again.
Alanna dropped her fork with a clatter. “Don’t tell me you need something else now," she said exasperatedly.
Alan shook his head. “No, I just…will you be here tomorrow?"
Alanna pursed her lips as she eyed her son suspiciously. “For a little while. I have to leave for Frasurland pretty early though. Why?"
Alan shrugged. “We should have breakfast tomorrow. I haven’t seen you in a while. Can we do that?"
"Of course," Alanna said, though she looked confused.
Alan swooped down to hug her tightly, and whispered “I’m glad you made it here all right Ma, talk to you in the morning." He straightened, then took off, clutching his mail.
Alanna looked concerned as she stared as his retreating back. She turned to Raoul and shrugged before picking up her fork once more.
"He’s the moodiest thing," she said with a mystified shake of her head.
Raoul shrugged back, but he could feel the smile stretching across his face.
Summary: People need to believe in the power of legends for all sorts of reasons.
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: I always thought it was cute in Trickster's Choice when Aly was totally aghast at the idea her mother might get tired or could lose, and I basically just wanted to write a fic where Alan does the same thing. I liked how Aly is so cynical towards her mother, but at the same time she totally buys into the legends surrounding Alanna because they kept her from worrying about how dangerous her mother’s life is (Alanna the Lioness doesn’t get tired, therefore Alanna the Mother will never lose a challenge and thus die).
So anywho, I tried to replicate that concept here, you’ll have to tell me how I did.
--
Alanna slid into a seat across from Raoul in the Giantkiller mess hall, jolting him out of the paperwork he was reviewing.
"Whoa! Hey, when did you get here?" he asked, reaching over the table to excitedly thump her back.
"Just now. I dropped my things off and came straight here, I’m starving," she groaned.
"You’d have to be to want to eat here," Raoul quipped. She did look like she had just returned from the road, all dirty and weary. Her plate was heaped with leftovers from the evening meal, and she carried a cup full of what appeared to be warm cider.
Alanna began quickly shoveling food into her mouth, and he waited for her to swallow before asking, “So what brings you to our humble fort?"
"I got to take some time at the Swoop, and I thought to stretch the visit out by leaving later and riding hard to get back to Frasurland on time." She shook her head ruefully. “Sometimes I forget that I’m an old lady now, and I can’t ride for days without stopping like I used to."
Raoul chuckled and replied, “Don’t call yourself old. If you’re old, than what am I?"
"Older," Alanna said around a mouthful of food, and he laughed.
Before Raoul could manage a retort the door to the mess banged open, emitting a flustered Alan. He quickly scanned the dimly illuminated room, and upon seeing his mother, Alan sprinted down the rows of tables towards them.
"Do you have letters for me?" Alan panted as he approached.
"Well hello to you too," Alanna said drily, setting her fork down.
"Sorry Ma." Alan quickly bent to kiss her cheek, then asked in a rush, “Hi, how are you? How was the ride? How is father? Do you have any letters for me?"
Alanna sighed. “Hello. I’m fine, the ride was long, your father is well, and yes, I have letters for you. One from your father, one from each of your siblings, and three from a lady." She raised an eyebrow and said, "Somebody is certainly very interested in talking to you."
Alan didn’t take the bait. “Where are they?" He looked around eagerly, as though she might be hiding the mail under her plate.
"In my trunk. I’ll get them for you when I’m done eating." Alanna picked her fork back up.
"What? Why can’t I have them now?" Alan’s voice verged on petulance, and Raoul hid a smile.
"Because I’m tired and I’m hungry and I would like to sit and eat for a moment!" Alanna snapped. “I will bring you your letters as soon as I finish."
"I can just get them myself, where is your trunk?" Alan danced in place impatiently.
"It’s in the barracks but-" Before Alanna could complete her sentence Alan took off. She stood up and yelled across the mostly empty mess, “Hey! It’s locked, you can’t get in it right now."
Alan looked back over his shoulder, one hand already opening the mess door and called, “It’s fine, I have my lock picks with me."
Alanna was flushed with annoyance. “No, no it is not fine, I don’t want you going through my things."
Alan looked genuinely nonplussed as he drifted back to their table. “Why not? What do you have that’s so private?"
Raoul covered his laughter with a cough, and hastily busied himself with intently reading a supply request form. Oh Alan. Raoul settled in for a long argument, knowing from experience how impetuous and obstinate his squire could be. Not unlike someone else I know, the big knight thought as he eyed Alanna.
She gritted her teeth, then said tersely, “You can sit down and wait. When I am done eating I will go and get you your mail. If I hear another word about it I’ll hold your letters until tomorrow." She sat down, and resolutely picked her fork up again.
Alan slumped, rolling his head back dramatically and sighing. Raoul shot Alanna an amused look, but she only closed her eyes, took a deep breath in through her nose, and began to eat again.
Alan shuffled closer, then sat straddling the rough wooden bench so that he faced his mother. His eyes were huge and pleading, and his lower lip trembled in a perfect imitation of a pout. Raoul noted that Alanna’s jaw tensed, and she tried to avoid looking in Alan’s direction.
He scooted closer, watching her in silence. Alanna drummed her fingers uncomfortably on the table, her fork frozen in midair. Alan leaned in slightly, so she could see his pathetic expression better.
"Oh, for Mithros’ sake!" Alanna snarled, dropping her fork angrily on her plate. “If I get you your cursed letters will you let me alone to eat?"
"Yes, yes! Oh thank you mother!" Alan leapt up to throw his arms around her, heedless of her outburst. Alanna’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling again, but Raoul couldn’t help but notice a faint smile at the corner of her mouth when her son embraced her.
"Fine, wait here," she sighed, and took off out the mess door.
Raoul cocked an eyebrow at his squire, who was looking at his mother’s plate with a hungry gleam to his eye. Usually he didn’t care to get involved in these kinds of things, but technically Alan was his responsibility now.
"You should be nicer to your mother. She’s exhausted, let her rest for a spell," Raoul said quietly.
Alan looked up at him, startled. “Mother doesn’t get tired," he said patiently, as though Raoul were a foolish child.
"Of course she does," Raoul said peevishly. “She’s a person just like anyone else."
Raoul was surprised at how irate Alan became. His squire’s tone bordered on insubordinate when he snapped, “No, she’s not like other people. She’s Alanna the Lioness, she doesn’t get tired and weak!"
Raoul said nothing; instead he turned his attention back to the paper in his hands while his squire glowered at him. Alan tapped his foot agitatedly as the silence stretched out between them. Raoul wasn’t concerned; the boy couldn’t keep a foul mood going for much longer than a day without getting bored and moving on. He hummed quietly, flipping through the pile.
After a short time had passed Alanna returned to the mess, carrying a small bundle under her arm. She tossed it into her son’s lap as she dropped into her seat on the bench.
"Are you happy now?" she asked while Alan hugged his package to his chest.
"Yes, thank you Mother," he said. He hopped up, still squeezing his letters tightly, and made to head for the door. Suddenly he stopped, and turned around again.
Alanna dropped her fork with a clatter. “Don’t tell me you need something else now," she said exasperatedly.
Alan shook his head. “No, I just…will you be here tomorrow?"
Alanna pursed her lips as she eyed her son suspiciously. “For a little while. I have to leave for Frasurland pretty early though. Why?"
Alan shrugged. “We should have breakfast tomorrow. I haven’t seen you in a while. Can we do that?"
"Of course," Alanna said, though she looked confused.
Alan swooped down to hug her tightly, and whispered “I’m glad you made it here all right Ma, talk to you in the morning." He straightened, then took off, clutching his mail.
Alanna looked concerned as she stared as his retreating back. She turned to Raoul and shrugged before picking up her fork once more.
"He’s the moodiest thing," she said with a mystified shake of her head.
Raoul shrugged back, but he could feel the smile stretching across his face.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!