Alanna of Trebond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_lioness) wrote2004-08-04 09:56 pm
the_lioness) wrote2004-08-04 09:56 pm
Entry tags:
In which Alanna arrives at the edge of the Universe
Great Merciful Mother, she was tired. Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, Knight of the Realm of Tortall, was about to fall off her horse from exhaustion. Alanna's eyes drooped until all she could see was the space between Moonlight's alert ears. A mere three days ride from court and already she longed for the comfort of a bed. Alanna grimaced, mentally berating herself for acting soft. Obstinacy evident in the fine lines around her mouth, she straightened her spine and sat upright in the saddle. The Great Southern Desert surrounded her, the deepening sun casting the occasional shadow on the golden dunes. She knew better than to let her guard down in this remote section of Tortall. Despite the Bazhir's peace with the King in the North, the hill men obeyed no laws but their own and wouldn't hesitate to kill an unwary traveler, particularly one of noble blood. Patting Moonlight on the neck, Alanna regretted the ever thickening sand that slowed their pace. At least she could tilt her head upwards and luxuriate in the hot desert sun. With a wry grin, she remembered the increasing chill that had crept into the capital city of Corus over the last few weeks. Neither the knight nor her mare particularly relished cold weather.
Alanna's stomach quivered when she remembered why she wasn't bundled up in Corus with her friends. Looking back over the fateful events that had set her on her current path, she realized that she had barely said goodbye to her comrades and her adopted father, Sir Myles of Olau. As she bid her friends farewell and rode through the city gate, Alanna remained in a trance like state of shock, numb to the riotous feelings of grief, confusion and guilt that clamored just beneath her deceptively calm exterior. She knew her friends, especially King Jonathan and George...dear, dear George...were worried about her, but respected her wish to recuperate both physically and emotionally among the Bazhir. They knew she would prefer to lick her wounds alone as she coped with all that had come to pass. Never one to admit defeat or accept aid, Alanna preferred to overcome all of her weaknesses alone.
Her thoughts briefly turned to George, he of the wicked grin and crooked path. Like any good criminal, the King of Thieves had a way of sneaking up on her. He encroached on her thoughts and desires without her knowledge, until she suddenly realized how important he was to her and promptly shoved all such feelings aside. Wrinkling her nose, Alanna could just imagine what he would say to her right now. "My lass," he would drawl, his hazel eyes twinkling. "You're but running away from what must be. Isn't it time you stopped running?" She frowned, wondering why George's blatant wooing never made her as uncomfortable as she thought it should. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that George let her be both Knight of the Realm and woman, not one or the other depending on his mood. Jonathan had so rarely indulged her occasional need to revel in her femininity.
Rolling her shoulders to ease some of her ever present tension, Alanna struggled with her conscience. Despite Jon's assurances that Tortall was only safe because of her actions, thus earning her the right to rest, she still felt like she was abandoning her King and friend in his time of need. More than friend, truth be told, because although their love affair had died a tempestuous death years ago, she couldn't forget that had she chosen differently, she might now be Queen. Her eyes glazed over, and the scorching desert disappeared. Instead, she saw a younger, less seasoned Jonathan, his black hair falling over his brow as he reached for her with that seductive glint in his shuttered, angry blue eyes. Her smile laced with regret, Alanna chuckled remembering Jon's womanizing years at court. That was all over now, as he was completely besotted with Princess Thayet. Alanna had arranged their meeting and yet felt oddly hurt by their obvious regard for each other. Part of her was thrilled to see Jon happy, while another wondered if the reason she tossed Thayet in Jon's path was to relieve her own burden of choice. Alanna long ago accepted that she could never be queen or bound to the court life. Her destiny lay on the outskirts of the known world where she would do great deeds for the glory of Tortall. She was a lioness, not a domesticated tabby cat.
Moonlight's foreleg sunk into a deep dune. The mare's brief stumble shook Alanna out of her reverie. It was getting late, but she knew there was an oasis another hour's ride to the south so she pressed on. Twilight deepened and she looked over her shoulder towards the North, praying that Tortall would recover. Finally letting some of her turbulent emotions surface, Alanna wept for the Dragon, her quiet tears leaving tracks down her dusty face. The Shang Dragon, Liam Ironarm, was just one of the coronation day casualties that would long haunt her soul.
Her brother's pride and ambition had destroyed him, and almost all of Tortall. Although she was deeply angry with her twin for defying the Dark God by bringing Duke Roger of Conte back to life, Thom's death made her feel as though someone had sliced her in half. Thom's flirtation with insanity had begun years before, long troubling Alanna and other gifted ones throughout the land. Despite the fact that Thom grew increasingly blinded by glory and power, Alanna had always been secure in the knowledge that should she call on him in need, he would rush to her side. After a lengthy separation, Thom had managed to be there for the most important day of her life, the day she survived the Ordeal of Knighthood and won her shield. The same day she put Roger in his grave --- the first time. She had held Thom's hand as the Dark God took him away. Now Roger was dead, again, and she still had many questions for Thom that would never be answered. If only she could see her twin one more time. A fresh crop of tears welled, making it hard to scan the horizon for signs of the oasis.
"Goddess, where are you now that Roger is defeated, Jon is King and I seem to have fulfilled my greatest quest," Alanna mumbled. "Was re-interring Roger the end? My ultimate victory? Shall I not provide new fodder for the minstrels who sing ballads about the Lioness?" Alanna rubbed her temples, trying to banish all feelings of despondency and uselessness to the darkest corner of her mind. The image of Roger dying flickered through her mind, his monstrous laughter pouring from his mouth like blood oozing from a festering wound. At least Jon's throne was safe. No one would question his rule while he wielded the Dominion Jewel, the jewel she won for him and for the glory of Tortall. Indeed, no one would question Jonathan's rule or his choice of King's Champion. Alanna felt that she had finally proved herself to all who scoffed at the concept of a lady knight. Yet, instead of elation, she felt...emptiness.
"I'm just so tired. And so very alone," she sniffled, wrapping her arms around Moonlight's neck. The gentle rocking motion of her mare's gait soothed the weary knight. She closed her eyes, vowing to resist sleep, but uncharacteristically gave in to rest. The sensation of being wrapped in a soothing, warm blanket of silk washed over Alanna and she fell into slumber. Her dreams took her to a happier time at the Dancing Dove, when she still burned with purpose and George watched her with predatory eyes but had yet to make a move in her direction.
A rough noise, reminiscent of a screeching owl, rang through her clouded brain. Alanna instantly awoke, her well schooled reflexes alerting her to potential danger. Her mouth fell open in astonishment as she took in her surroundings. It was dark, oppressively so, and Moonlight was gone. Alanna stood in front of a large, wooden door, her Bazhir burnoose loosely wrapped over her head. Alanna gripped her satchel with her right hand and used her gift to illuminate her left. Her Lioness shield rested at her feet. Distractedly, she noticed that her breath was visible and reflexively shivered. Closing her eyes and rubbing them until she saw stars, she willed the vision to pass, wondering why she had pleaded with the Goddess to grant her additional opportunities to build upon the Lioness legend. Peeking through her fingers, Alanna found her situation unchanged. Someone laughed behind the door and she instinctively reached for her sword, momentarily forgetting that it was forever bound to the spot where she killed Roger. "By the Black Gods, surely I've faced worse than whatever torture awaits within," she mused. Swiftly stashing her shield behind a low wall, Alanna placed her right hand on her dagger's scabbard, drew a deep breath and pushed open the door.
Alanna's stomach quivered when she remembered why she wasn't bundled up in Corus with her friends. Looking back over the fateful events that had set her on her current path, she realized that she had barely said goodbye to her comrades and her adopted father, Sir Myles of Olau. As she bid her friends farewell and rode through the city gate, Alanna remained in a trance like state of shock, numb to the riotous feelings of grief, confusion and guilt that clamored just beneath her deceptively calm exterior. She knew her friends, especially King Jonathan and George...dear, dear George...were worried about her, but respected her wish to recuperate both physically and emotionally among the Bazhir. They knew she would prefer to lick her wounds alone as she coped with all that had come to pass. Never one to admit defeat or accept aid, Alanna preferred to overcome all of her weaknesses alone.
Her thoughts briefly turned to George, he of the wicked grin and crooked path. Like any good criminal, the King of Thieves had a way of sneaking up on her. He encroached on her thoughts and desires without her knowledge, until she suddenly realized how important he was to her and promptly shoved all such feelings aside. Wrinkling her nose, Alanna could just imagine what he would say to her right now. "My lass," he would drawl, his hazel eyes twinkling. "You're but running away from what must be. Isn't it time you stopped running?" She frowned, wondering why George's blatant wooing never made her as uncomfortable as she thought it should. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that George let her be both Knight of the Realm and woman, not one or the other depending on his mood. Jonathan had so rarely indulged her occasional need to revel in her femininity.
Rolling her shoulders to ease some of her ever present tension, Alanna struggled with her conscience. Despite Jon's assurances that Tortall was only safe because of her actions, thus earning her the right to rest, she still felt like she was abandoning her King and friend in his time of need. More than friend, truth be told, because although their love affair had died a tempestuous death years ago, she couldn't forget that had she chosen differently, she might now be Queen. Her eyes glazed over, and the scorching desert disappeared. Instead, she saw a younger, less seasoned Jonathan, his black hair falling over his brow as he reached for her with that seductive glint in his shuttered, angry blue eyes. Her smile laced with regret, Alanna chuckled remembering Jon's womanizing years at court. That was all over now, as he was completely besotted with Princess Thayet. Alanna had arranged their meeting and yet felt oddly hurt by their obvious regard for each other. Part of her was thrilled to see Jon happy, while another wondered if the reason she tossed Thayet in Jon's path was to relieve her own burden of choice. Alanna long ago accepted that she could never be queen or bound to the court life. Her destiny lay on the outskirts of the known world where she would do great deeds for the glory of Tortall. She was a lioness, not a domesticated tabby cat.
Moonlight's foreleg sunk into a deep dune. The mare's brief stumble shook Alanna out of her reverie. It was getting late, but she knew there was an oasis another hour's ride to the south so she pressed on. Twilight deepened and she looked over her shoulder towards the North, praying that Tortall would recover. Finally letting some of her turbulent emotions surface, Alanna wept for the Dragon, her quiet tears leaving tracks down her dusty face. The Shang Dragon, Liam Ironarm, was just one of the coronation day casualties that would long haunt her soul.
Her brother's pride and ambition had destroyed him, and almost all of Tortall. Although she was deeply angry with her twin for defying the Dark God by bringing Duke Roger of Conte back to life, Thom's death made her feel as though someone had sliced her in half. Thom's flirtation with insanity had begun years before, long troubling Alanna and other gifted ones throughout the land. Despite the fact that Thom grew increasingly blinded by glory and power, Alanna had always been secure in the knowledge that should she call on him in need, he would rush to her side. After a lengthy separation, Thom had managed to be there for the most important day of her life, the day she survived the Ordeal of Knighthood and won her shield. The same day she put Roger in his grave --- the first time. She had held Thom's hand as the Dark God took him away. Now Roger was dead, again, and she still had many questions for Thom that would never be answered. If only she could see her twin one more time. A fresh crop of tears welled, making it hard to scan the horizon for signs of the oasis.
"Goddess, where are you now that Roger is defeated, Jon is King and I seem to have fulfilled my greatest quest," Alanna mumbled. "Was re-interring Roger the end? My ultimate victory? Shall I not provide new fodder for the minstrels who sing ballads about the Lioness?" Alanna rubbed her temples, trying to banish all feelings of despondency and uselessness to the darkest corner of her mind. The image of Roger dying flickered through her mind, his monstrous laughter pouring from his mouth like blood oozing from a festering wound. At least Jon's throne was safe. No one would question his rule while he wielded the Dominion Jewel, the jewel she won for him and for the glory of Tortall. Indeed, no one would question Jonathan's rule or his choice of King's Champion. Alanna felt that she had finally proved herself to all who scoffed at the concept of a lady knight. Yet, instead of elation, she felt...emptiness.
"I'm just so tired. And so very alone," she sniffled, wrapping her arms around Moonlight's neck. The gentle rocking motion of her mare's gait soothed the weary knight. She closed her eyes, vowing to resist sleep, but uncharacteristically gave in to rest. The sensation of being wrapped in a soothing, warm blanket of silk washed over Alanna and she fell into slumber. Her dreams took her to a happier time at the Dancing Dove, when she still burned with purpose and George watched her with predatory eyes but had yet to make a move in her direction.
A rough noise, reminiscent of a screeching owl, rang through her clouded brain. Alanna instantly awoke, her well schooled reflexes alerting her to potential danger. Her mouth fell open in astonishment as she took in her surroundings. It was dark, oppressively so, and Moonlight was gone. Alanna stood in front of a large, wooden door, her Bazhir burnoose loosely wrapped over her head. Alanna gripped her satchel with her right hand and used her gift to illuminate her left. Her Lioness shield rested at her feet. Distractedly, she noticed that her breath was visible and reflexively shivered. Closing her eyes and rubbing them until she saw stars, she willed the vision to pass, wondering why she had pleaded with the Goddess to grant her additional opportunities to build upon the Lioness legend. Peeking through her fingers, Alanna found her situation unchanged. Someone laughed behind the door and she instinctively reached for her sword, momentarily forgetting that it was forever bound to the spot where she killed Roger. "By the Black Gods, surely I've faced worse than whatever torture awaits within," she mused. Swiftly stashing her shield behind a low wall, Alanna placed her right hand on her dagger's scabbard, drew a deep breath and pushed open the door.