stubborn_squire | (no subject)

(no subject)

April is a wet month. It rained for a week straight, and when Alanna meets George at the Dove to discuss the news he'd received from the Rogue in Tusaine's capitol, she almost wishes for a boat to carry her there.

She forgets to care about the mud on her boots or the water seeping through her cloak on the way back from the Lower City.

War is coming to Tortall.

--- --- ---

"Twenty." Myles looks at the map Alanna put before him, and the red marks that represented Tusaine legions. They do the math, arriving at chilling numbers: two thousand foot soldiers, one hundred units of ten armed knights each. All quartered in castles and towns around the Drell River Valley, the stupidest place to fight a war Alanna could imagine.

"How much do you trust the Rogue?" Myles asks. Alanna had told him, point blank, that she knew George, and she knew Myles had good drinking companions in Marek and Scholar, two of George's thieves. Those cards, at least, are now on the table.

"I trust him with my life. I trust him with Jon's life."

"Duke Gareth and the King must see this immediately. I'll be certain your name and that of your source don't come into the discussion."

Alanna puts a finger down on the map, careful not to tear it. "One more thing, Myles. George says the mountain passes from Tusaine into the Drell Valley are open."

He nods. "Then we've very little time, and we're not prepared. Gareth and I tried to convince Roald that Hilam would do this. If we were dealing with old King Ain, there'd be no trouble. But Hilam-"

"Has notions?" Alanna finishes, her scowl quickly becoming a lengthy visitor.

--- --- ---

Three days after the Call to Muster, the palace is still in an uproar. Those who will ride to war are busy preparing, while those who won't gossip about what the future might bring.

They have much to gossip about tonight. At the military review, Duke Gareth, the Commander, fell off his horse and broke his leg. He has been replaced with Duke Roger of Conte.

Only Alanna and the palace hostler know Duke Gareth took a tumble because someone placed a prickly burr in his very well-trained war horse's saddle blanket.

-- -- --

Alanna is pleased to see her unexpected visitor in the Lesser Library, even if George is daft for risking it.

She shows him the burr, he warns her to be careful around Roger, and then he kisses her.

Much to her consternation, Alanna enjoys the kiss. A lot.

Thoughtful, she meanders back to her rooms and throws herself across the bed, ignoring Faithful’s insistent demands for information and several chores she knows she should complete before bedtime.

(What did he mean he'll wait years?)

She's still staring at the burr when she hears the outer door open and close.

[OOC: Dialogue from In the Hand of the Goddess, by Tamora Pierce.]

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Jon isn't quite sure what just happened or what he should say now. He's grasping for something to say when a hard head butts into his leg. He wobbles, almost falling, then laughs and picks up Faithful, staring into his eyes.

"You should have more respect for your prince, sir."

Grateful to her ornery cat for putting them back on familiar ground, Alanna grins mischievously and places both hands on her hips.

"And you should remember that you need us to keep you humble, Sire. I'd hate to think what would happen to your head were we not to accompany you to war."

Jon sniffs, tickling Faithful's belly. "I don't know what you mean. I am both handsome and humble. Not to mention gifted with intelligence and athletic grace." He grins at her.

"You'll get no argument from me. Well, perhaps with one or two points," she teases.

Less cautious now, she returns to his side and rubs the cat's ear.

No argument from you? There's a first. To the left a little.

Jon looks over at her. "What are you going to do with this one while we are away?"

Both squire and cat give him an indignant look.

"Why, he's coming with me!"

"Don't look at me like that," Jon replies to both of them. "I think that is a really stupid idea. Look at him! He'll be crushed!"

Tail puffing up to twice its usual volume, Faithful meows, Only by the disappointment of young kittens thinking they know the answer to everything.

Alanna fails to stifle a giggle.

"Faithful can take care of himself. If he were stupid enough to get crushed, he wouldn't have lasted this long by my side." She looks at the cat. "Or on my shoulder, as the case may be."

Jon backs up slightly from Faithful's poofed and indignant glare. He looks at Alanna, sighs and shakes his head.

"Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you." Muttering to himself, "Cats in battle. Mithros."

Amused, Alanna snorts. It's followed by an incongruous eyelash flutter of the sort favored by Court ladies.

"I promise you, Jonathan," she says, "when it's revealed that a woman rode into battle at your side, no one will remember the cat."

Not that she has any intention of letting Faithful near the actual fighting.

Jon rolls his eyes. "Don't do that too often, you'll hurt yourself." He sighs. "You are right about that." He starts to grin. "I can't wait to see the looks on people's faces when you do reveal your...true nature."

Alanna goes quiet and quite still. Eyes sad and slightly hunted, she looks down at her hands, absently counting the scars and calluses.

"I've lied to them. To all of them. Sometimes I wonder how I will bear the looks on their faces."

Jon drops Faithful to the floor and steps over to Alanna. He puts a finger under her chin and gently lifts her face, so her eyes meet his. "They will forgive you. If they know you at all, they'll understand."

"And Goddess, it's the people I know who worry me."

She smiles, slow and mischievous, not flinching from his gaze.

"The rest can gape at my back as I ride off on great adventures."

Jon laughs. "Just don't forget those of us who helped you along your way when you are off on those adventures."

There's a discomfort in the way he says this, like he's uncomfortable thinking that far in the future.

Alanna stiffens.

"I could do it on my own," she says, voice thick with pricked pride. "But I won't forget."

She raises an eyebrow and returns to her trunk, carefully adding a folded pair of socks.

Jon snorts in response and watches her continue to pack things, quiet for a few minutes.

"You are really going to leave when you are knighted, aren't you." His voice is quiet.

It doesn't take her long to finish packing; she doesn't have nearly as much as other nobles in her position. After the addition of several papers relating to Trebond's upkeep, she closes the trunk and locks it, then drags it closer to the door.

"Of course," she replies, slightly stunned. Jon knows her plans, knows what Court will say. She'll have no choice. "That's why I'm here. To win my shield so I can have grand adventures."

And yet she sounds less sure of it than she did moments earlier.

"And forgive me," she smiles, "but there are very few adventures to be had here, at least of the sort that I want."

Slightly hurt, Jon looks down. "I know you've talked about it, but it's hard to imagine Tortall without you." He shrugs. "I always imagined all of us working together, you, me, Raoul, Gary..."

Realizing her mistake, Alanna crosses to Jon and bumps her shoulder against his.

"This is my home, Jon. You, Raoul, Gary..." There's a pause where once Alex's name would've be mentioned. "You're as good as my family. Wherever I go, I'll always return.

"Hopefully that includes the Drell River Valley."

Jon bumps her shoulder back and a smile escapes his lips, grudgingly.

"You'd better." And he bumps her harder. "Of course we are going to return, victorious and heroes! Imagine our return...the streets lined with people, throwing flowers, cheering, grateful maidens blowing kisses..." He grins.

Alanna makes a face, further illustrating her disgust with a gagging sound.

"I'll leave such celebrating to you," she says loftily. "I have no wish to be covered with flowers OR maidens."

Jon laughs. "I think even you couldn't resist a few flowers." He makes a thoughtful face. "Maybe I'll even get a scar. Maidens like scars."

With a snort, Alanna looks longingly at the wall nearest the door. She feels a pressing need to bang her head against something.

"If that is the case, I shall avoid acquiring any more." She lowers her eyes, smiling to herself. "Anything to keep your lady love at bay."

Jon scowls at her. "You need to work on keeping your dancing worse as well."