Alanna of Trebond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_lioness) wrote2005-12-13 10:18 am
the_lioness) wrote2005-12-13 10:18 am
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When one sustains a wound in battle, one keeps fighting unless totally incapacitated. You adjust, make allowances for limited movement and strain, but you can not afford to give up lest you lose everything. It's only later -after the heart pumping excitement and intensity of battle leaves you drained- that the inevitable pain, horror and doubt worms its way into your brain and leaves you feeling alone and uncomfortable in your own skin.
At least, this has always been the case with Alanna.
For over a day, she kept fighting, doing her best not to give in to the doubt and the hurt. The danger passed, the tight grip around her heart eased and in the end, it helped clarify a great deal. She can not say it was for the best and will certainly never thank Thom for what he did, but she thinks it.
Still, sleep eludes her for most of the night. She watches Adam's chest rise and fall, thinking about their conversation in the dressing room - remembering the way he'd pulled back from her. Tears well up almost every hour on the hour, but she consistently fights them back. Not here, not now. It's not Adam's fault that she can't get that image out of her head. He isn't responsible for her self-doubt.
But she does need to deal with it.
The urge to get up and do something becomes unbearable a good two hours before the sun rises. She gives him one last kiss on the top of his head and with all the stealth of someone used to hunting and tracking, slips out of their room, through the bar and into the Dancing Dove.
No one pays attention to the short figure clad in black with just a hint of red poking out from under her cap. His cap, perhaps. It's hard to tell in the dark, and Alanna likes that just fine. She walks purposefully through the lower city, pausing only to purchase apples from a yawning merchant just pushing out his cart. Before long, she enters the palace stable and breathes in, looking at a wall sconce long enough for violet flames to rise.
Moonlight lifts her head over her stall door and gives Alanna a sad sort of whicker, her eyes unusually dull. Panic washes over the knight as she enters the stall, murmuring endearments while her hands run expertly down her mare's legs. As she suspected, Moonlight is lame. Alanna curses, wrapping her arms around the mare's neck and finally giving in to the tears. She cries and cries, rubbing her cheek against the warm gold coat. Moonlight snuffles around her pocket until Alanna remembers the extra apple and feeds it to her.
"Another time, my girl. I'll talk to Stefan about compresses and extra feed, I swear it," Alanna says softly. Eventually she makes her way out of Moonlight's stall and stands in the aisle looking around. She still intends to go for a ride, but isn't sure which horse to take. Her eyes land on the spacious stall of the mount belonging to her King and friend.
A slow, mischievous smile spreads across her face. Why not? Jonathan doesn't get as much time to work Darkness as he would like. She'd be happy to help. It's what Champions do, after all.
So she keeps telling herself as she leads Darkness out of the stables and toward the practice yards, one sword buckled around her hips, another strapped to her back and a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder. Darkness dances sideways as she mounts, excited at the prospect of a morning run. Gathering the reins, Alanna laughs softly and pats his neck. "Okay, boy-o. We've not done this together in some time, have we? I hope you haven't forgotten me." The great war horse answers with a quick buck and breaks into a trot. Approval lights Alanna's face, and she gets to work. Not many people would understand her personal method of dealing with things, but the morning light has yet to pour over the Coastal Hills, and for the moment, she and Darkness are alone.
Well, alone with about a dozen targets and several scarecrows cunningly dressed as enemy knights.
Alanna puts Darkness through his paces, feeling her own muscles warm up as the big horse moves. His strides are longer and less fluid than Moonlight's, but full of barely leashed power. George always did have a good eye for horseflesh. Once horse and rider are alert, she draws her sword and halts. Her eyes close, remembering her first battle in the Tusaine War,
(To me, men of Fort Drell!)
the day she first killed a man. Eyes still closed, she signals for a canter. Darkness obediently leaps forward. When they near the first scarecrow, Alanna opens her eyes, grasps the reins with her teeth and draws the second sword. Less than a minute later, she's across the yard, panting. She sheathes the swords and notches an arrow.
This. This is what she needs to feel better about herself. Thom kissed Adam. Hands, teeth, nails - but Adam pushed him away. An arrow hisses through the air as she stands in her stirrups and grins as it strikes the bullseye. But what if I'm not enough? Not feminine enough? Jon didn't think I was. And Adam pushed me away too. Another arrow, another target as Darkness's heavy hooves pound through the dirt. But he says he wants me forever. He wants me, and I want him. She uses her legs to guide Darkness around a large clump of straw and then over a small log as she shoots again, this arrow striking the edge of the last target. They slow to a trot and then a walk as sunlight finally creeps over the horizon. It's a gamble. He could crush me like no other. An image of their father's face flashes through her mind.
Stop worrying about things that might happen, Alanna. You'll only make both of you miserable.
Lionesses don't roll over and give up. They keep fighting, protecting and living. Thom knows that well.
After all, he's the one who gave her the name.
Perhaps Thom knows her better than she thinks. Licking her lips, she glances toward the stable yard. Stefan stands near the paddock, arms crossed as he watches her. The sun is just up; she has time for a quick talk with her friend, a trip by the seamstress and then maybe she can be there when Adam awakens. Or at least for his second cup of coffee. Smiling crookedly, she waves and steers Darkness in Stefan's direction.
She hopes she is long gone before her old instructors discover that someone left their enemy scarecrows without heads.
At least, this has always been the case with Alanna.
For over a day, she kept fighting, doing her best not to give in to the doubt and the hurt. The danger passed, the tight grip around her heart eased and in the end, it helped clarify a great deal. She can not say it was for the best and will certainly never thank Thom for what he did, but she thinks it.
Still, sleep eludes her for most of the night. She watches Adam's chest rise and fall, thinking about their conversation in the dressing room - remembering the way he'd pulled back from her. Tears well up almost every hour on the hour, but she consistently fights them back. Not here, not now. It's not Adam's fault that she can't get that image out of her head. He isn't responsible for her self-doubt.
But she does need to deal with it.
The urge to get up and do something becomes unbearable a good two hours before the sun rises. She gives him one last kiss on the top of his head and with all the stealth of someone used to hunting and tracking, slips out of their room, through the bar and into the Dancing Dove.
No one pays attention to the short figure clad in black with just a hint of red poking out from under her cap. His cap, perhaps. It's hard to tell in the dark, and Alanna likes that just fine. She walks purposefully through the lower city, pausing only to purchase apples from a yawning merchant just pushing out his cart. Before long, she enters the palace stable and breathes in, looking at a wall sconce long enough for violet flames to rise.
Moonlight lifts her head over her stall door and gives Alanna a sad sort of whicker, her eyes unusually dull. Panic washes over the knight as she enters the stall, murmuring endearments while her hands run expertly down her mare's legs. As she suspected, Moonlight is lame. Alanna curses, wrapping her arms around the mare's neck and finally giving in to the tears. She cries and cries, rubbing her cheek against the warm gold coat. Moonlight snuffles around her pocket until Alanna remembers the extra apple and feeds it to her.
"Another time, my girl. I'll talk to Stefan about compresses and extra feed, I swear it," Alanna says softly. Eventually she makes her way out of Moonlight's stall and stands in the aisle looking around. She still intends to go for a ride, but isn't sure which horse to take. Her eyes land on the spacious stall of the mount belonging to her King and friend.
A slow, mischievous smile spreads across her face. Why not? Jonathan doesn't get as much time to work Darkness as he would like. She'd be happy to help. It's what Champions do, after all.
So she keeps telling herself as she leads Darkness out of the stables and toward the practice yards, one sword buckled around her hips, another strapped to her back and a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder. Darkness dances sideways as she mounts, excited at the prospect of a morning run. Gathering the reins, Alanna laughs softly and pats his neck. "Okay, boy-o. We've not done this together in some time, have we? I hope you haven't forgotten me." The great war horse answers with a quick buck and breaks into a trot. Approval lights Alanna's face, and she gets to work. Not many people would understand her personal method of dealing with things, but the morning light has yet to pour over the Coastal Hills, and for the moment, she and Darkness are alone.
Well, alone with about a dozen targets and several scarecrows cunningly dressed as enemy knights.
Alanna puts Darkness through his paces, feeling her own muscles warm up as the big horse moves. His strides are longer and less fluid than Moonlight's, but full of barely leashed power. George always did have a good eye for horseflesh. Once horse and rider are alert, she draws her sword and halts. Her eyes close, remembering her first battle in the Tusaine War,
(To me, men of Fort Drell!)
the day she first killed a man. Eyes still closed, she signals for a canter. Darkness obediently leaps forward. When they near the first scarecrow, Alanna opens her eyes, grasps the reins with her teeth and draws the second sword. Less than a minute later, she's across the yard, panting. She sheathes the swords and notches an arrow.
This. This is what she needs to feel better about herself. Thom kissed Adam. Hands, teeth, nails - but Adam pushed him away. An arrow hisses through the air as she stands in her stirrups and grins as it strikes the bullseye. But what if I'm not enough? Not feminine enough? Jon didn't think I was. And Adam pushed me away too. Another arrow, another target as Darkness's heavy hooves pound through the dirt. But he says he wants me forever. He wants me, and I want him. She uses her legs to guide Darkness around a large clump of straw and then over a small log as she shoots again, this arrow striking the edge of the last target. They slow to a trot and then a walk as sunlight finally creeps over the horizon. It's a gamble. He could crush me like no other. An image of their father's face flashes through her mind.
Stop worrying about things that might happen, Alanna. You'll only make both of you miserable.
Lionesses don't roll over and give up. They keep fighting, protecting and living. Thom knows that well.
After all, he's the one who gave her the name.
Perhaps Thom knows her better than she thinks. Licking her lips, she glances toward the stable yard. Stefan stands near the paddock, arms crossed as he watches her. The sun is just up; she has time for a quick talk with her friend, a trip by the seamstress and then maybe she can be there when Adam awakens. Or at least for his second cup of coffee. Smiling crookedly, she waves and steers Darkness in Stefan's direction.
She hopes she is long gone before her old instructors discover that someone left their enemy scarecrows without heads.