the_lioness | (no subject)

He unsheathes his own sword and turns back his sleeves to keep them out of the way, rolling them up to his elbows.

"Lies, ritual, platitudes - call it what you will, Lioness. I make no excuses."

*Alanna snarls and paces a small path in the snow like a caged cat. Following his example, Alanna strips off her tunic and hastily shoves the long sleeves of her shirt up her arms. For once, she barely notices the cold.*

I am scarily aware of that fact, Alex. *She assumes the guard position.* It would be a mockery of chivalry itself to pretend this has anything to do with honor.

*Alanna's eyes flash. It does have to do with honor, but all she sees is anger.*

He raises his own sword, bowing slightly and saluting her.

"'Once more to the field of battle, dear friends, once more to the sword and the call of blood'. A favourite of Gary's, I believe, during his melodramatic poetic phase."

*A pained look flashes across her face. Friends? It had been a long time since she and Alex were friends. And yet, she will always remember him as he once was, and that memory gives her momentary pause. Her arms shake slightly, causing Werewindle to tremble noticeably in her grasp. Scowling, Alanna pushes all such thoughts aside and focuses on recent events. Things are very different now. Smiling thinly, she lifts her head and sticks her chin out stubbornly. She does not bow in return.*

Gary is one of the finest knights I know. I find his compassion inspiring, not melodramatic.

*Impatient, Alanna lets loose a feral roar and leaps forward, swinging her sword in a fierce downward arc. Some small voice in the back of her head orders her to pace herself, to lt Alex tire himself out first, but she refuses to listen. Her rage is suddenly all consuming.*

"He is compassionate. I miss him."

Taken slightly be surprise by her charge, Alex brings his own sword up to block the strike.

Alanna isn't fighting as well as she usually does. Neither is he; his reflexes are slightly off from bruising. The duel shall be... interesting.

*Their swords cross and Alanna struggles not to lose her balance. Something in Alex's eyes unnerves her and she glances down, determined to find a way to use their position to her advantage. Her eyebrows shoot up as she sees a large, fading bruise on one of his arms.*

Lovely markings you've acquired. Let me guess. You tripped and fell down.

Sharply, "I ran into a door."

He keeps their position static, using his slight advantage in height and weight to keep Alanna from pressing her advantage. He's at a disadvantage in this duel - this time, he doesn't want to hurt her. Not like last time. Not like she wants to hurt him.

He's almost inclined to let her.

*Alanna rolls her eyes.* Right.

*Growling, she disengages and bats his sword aside. Some small part of her notices the apparent reluctance in his eyes and puzzles at it.

She circles him warily for a moment, her breathing distressingly labored. It's far too early to be out of breath. She knows she should let him attack and concentrate on dodging his blows until she can gain control of herself. She knows. However, small, silvery threads of doubt, hurt and frustration are successfully winding their way through her brain like a snake coiling around its prey. Something is off. Werewindle shudders in her grasp, and she edges closer to Alex, searching for an opening. Spotting one, she lunges forward, sword aimed for his heart.*

He dodges to the side, feeling the scrape of the sword against his arm and knowing that he didn't escape that move unscathed. The fact that she'd aimed for his heart was a shock as well - he hadn't expected this to be to the death.

He can't fight her to the death, this time.

*Stunned, Alanna jumps back as soon as she feels the sickening sensation of sword connecting with flesh. What is she doing? She shakes her head in an effort to dispel the red haze of rage infecting her common sense. Werewindle seems to vibrate oddly for a moment, and she squeezes the hilt in an attempt to strengthen her grip. Or did it? Maybe it was just her muscles protesting the abuse of an early all out attack. Taking several cleansing breaths, she crosses one leg over the other and waits for him to make the next move.*

This duel is wrong. He can feel it, something is very wrong and for once it's not his own mind. He could die again, right here, at the hands of the Lioness.

she never duelled to kill before

Their pride will not let either of them concede. Alanna is off her beat but Alex is aching and slower than normal; the outcome is anyone's guess. And he's at a disadvantage because he won't make fatal strikes.

He makes several broken-off attacks, testing her guard.

Alanna's face blanches as she realizes why this is all so very familiar. She bats Alex's sword away, grappling with her uncharacteristic desire to attack mercilessly. Roger's sword. Similar sensations had coursed through her when she wielded Roger's sword - before she learned to control it. What was it Corwin had said? Brand was nothing if not power-hungry, and he forged that sword. Within it lies an imprint of him. It is entirely possible that it will try to take advantage of your new increase in power.

If only she had chosen a different sword. If only. Alanna suspects that there will be many "if onlys" to consider on the morrow.

Remember who you are, you idiot. You can not be controlled. Bend it to your will.

Breathing deeply, Alanna admits to herself that it's not just the sword. Alex may have no intention of dueling to the death this time, but Alanna remembers their last few match-ups all too clearly. The murderous rage in his eyes and the cold, hard certainty that he would run her through at the first opportunity... Alanna winces as she realizes that Alex may very well have seen something similar on her face moments before. It's like her mind had divorced itself from her sword arm, and her muscles responded savagely to the perceived threat. Despite what Alex may think, Alanna has no desire to hurt him. The fury abates as she struggles to control both her wayward emotions and the sword in her hand.

Her face carefully expressionless, Alanna executes a butterfly sweep and continues to advance, albeit with far less heat than before. She forcibly pushes away the waves of exhaustion and rage that threaten to consume her.*

Alanna's skill is unchanged, even if something about this is different. Alex's skill is likewise unchanged, even if he is a tad slower because of the bruises.

stupid move there, Tirragen

It's not a matter of pride for him anymore - now it's a matter of end the duel as quickly as possible, and hope that he doesn't hurt Alanna or get hurt too badly himself.

He doesn't really think that's likely to happen, somehow.

Alex...

*Alanna's voice holds a note of desperation, but she quickly quells her rising unease. Frowning, she blows a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and struggles to ignore the sweat trailing down her brow. She falls back on an old favorite, the Crescent Moon drill, in an attempt to return this duel to familiar ground.*

Why?

He matches her move for move; this drill is a familiar one.

"Why what, Lioness?"

And if anyone asks about the tone of fear in his voice, he'll lie.

*Her strength waning, Alanna focuses on catching her breath before responding. On some level, she is amused at how easily the old drills come back to them. She can almost hear Captain Sklaw yelling at them to watch their opponents for weaknesses. To stop defending and attack... always attack.*

Why did you turn away from us? *Her tone is plaintive, almost pleading.* From your friends? *She swings Werewindle around and up, her motions totally at odds with the expression on her face.*

"I..."

Jon, Gary, Raoul, Alan - his friends. He'd made a promise to them, a promise never to lie to them, never to hide anything.

Promises. So many promises.

So many broken promises.

He falters in the drill, the tip of his sword weaving, dipping towards the ground. Leaving an opening on his right side.

"I... I don't know..."

*Alanna sees the opening and has a split second argument with herself. The angry, hurt and frustrated side of her brain screams at her to take it. The other, rational part of her brain urges caution and restraint. She has waited years for the opportunity to question Alex.

Her natural curiosity wins. She falls back, sword at the ready, and circles him. Her cold eyes demand answers.*

Did you consider yourself so far above us? *She whispers, the sound abnormally harsh in the still air.* What did you see in the Chamber, Alex?

*Alanna grits her teeth, wondering why she is so intent on baiting Alex this evening. No knight willingly discusses their Ordeal. It is an accepted fact. Half expecting a full scale attack in response to her question, she tightens her grip and watches him carefully.*

He flinches at the question, turning with her to keep her always at his front, squashing the feeling of being prey to her predator as she circles him. Sword held up defensively, he waits.

"I never considered myself above you, Alan."

The name slips out involuntarily. He bites his lip, then shakes his head, dispelling - memories? Hopes?

The Chamber.

always the Chamber, Tirragen, always remembering the Chamber, makes you weakstrongsomething what did you see in the Chamber Tirragen, what gives you nightmares even after you're dead

He has gone pale, and his breathing is rapid. Possibly because of the exertion of the duel - possibly not.

*Alanna freezes at Alex's words, her own face paling considerably.*

Alanna. My name is Alanna.

*Her knees tremble, and for just a moment, she feels the cold all the way to her bones. Rather than wondering at Alex's experience in the Chamber, her own Ordeal comes back to haunt her. The icy wind, the sensation of drowning, the spider and Roger. Always Roger.

Alanna's eyes glaze over at the memory, except this time it doesn't end there. The iron door and cold room remain the same, but new images meld with the old nightmares. Images of Thom turning away from her, Alex fighting Meg, Delia smugly wrapping her arms around both Thom and Roger... Alanna flinches, her hands clenching her sword hilt spasmodically. Last but not least, she sees both the older and younger Peters standing side by side, glaring at her with no hint of recognition.

Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood, Alanna blinks away hot tears and bites back a cry of protest. If you cry out in the Chamber, it's all over. You lose. Growling, she whirls on Alex.*

Yet you tried to kill me, Alex! Three times! You turned against us all and helped ROGER try to kill JON! For what? For glory? For power? To prove yourself the best? We all would have died for you at one point in our lives. Did that mean NOTHING?

*Her voice raspy, she launches into an attack. Mid-thrust, she realizes her mistake. Bad footing, a foolish strike and blurred vision all combine to leave her vulnerable.*

A tortured scream tears itself from Alex's throat. "I don't know! I was fourteen, Alanna, he was good to me, I didn't realise what he was doing until it was too bloody late! And then when I did, it was too late, I was afraid that you'd all hate me. I don't know why I did any of what I did, my mind doesn't work right, I don't do things right."

A half-laugh, half-sob, and he shakes his head. "I'm not right in the head, Alanna, you said it yourself, I'm insane. I don't care about power or glory or proving myself better, I - I don't know why I do anything, but he was - he was kind to me, he didn't care that I'm not right, he - he made it seem logical, doing everything I did, I don't know why. I - I'm sorry."

Startled, he brings up his sword to block her attack.

*Fuming, Alanna falls into another easily remembered drill. Strike, block, parry, dodge. A flurry of butterfly sweeps followed by a back-handed slash. It's an oft rehearsed dance performed by equally talented dancers. However, the well-executed performance lacks heart. Both participants look as though they are simply trying to find a way to end this bizarre charade.

Alanna shudders, his words both soothing and infuriating her. Alex's apology penetrates Alanna's haze of confusion just as she spots an opening and thrusts her sword at his shoulder. Stunned, she tries to pull back, but it is entirely too late. Even worse, she realizes belatedly that his sword is swinging around in a side sweep, and she foolishly left herself open. She has no way to block it. This isn't the way this drill worked. They were meant to cross swords now and look each other in the eye. Weren't they? How did this happen? How did we both forget? The thought crosses her mind that perhaps neither one of them is willing to meet the other's gaze.

*Alanna's frantic eyes finally find Alex's as her sword plunges into his shoulder and his cuts into her side. For a moment, neither of them move. A small, alarmed squeak escapes Alanna's lips as the past half hour flies through her mind. To her utter surprise, the pain in her side throws everything into sharp relief. Eyes flashing, she extricates her sword as gently as possible and flings it to the ground.*

Alex... Goddess, Alex. I'm so sorry. The sword... *She gasps for breath, pressing her hand to her side.*

He lets out a half-gasp, half-cry as her sword enters his shoulder and his bites into her side. He stares at her, greene eyes wide and somehow frightened at the sight of the wound.

"Gods. Gods. Alanna, I --"

He falters, takes a step back, seemingly ignorant of his own injury. It hurts, but he's had so many hurts of late, one more doesn't penetrate his mind.

"Alanna, I - I --"

*Alanna shuts her eyes tightly against the sight of Alex's bloody shoulder. Perversely, she wonders how dead people can bleed. She speaks haltingly, her voice unusually breathy.*

Corwin warned me... I let it... I let it influence me. *She curses under her breath.* I was so angry, so sure that I had to stop you... *Blanching, Alanna stares at him with wide eyes.* Alex, I never meant to hurt you. Please believe that. It's all just... too much.

*Her voice breaks and she lets out an agonized groan. Overwhelmed, she staggers over to the tree and sinks down to the frozen ground. Eyes locked on Alex, she struggles into her cloak and surreptitiously submerges her bloody hand in the clean snow.*

You need a healer, Alex.

Her mentioning his injury seems to bring him back to reality. He kneels shakily and gathers a handful of snow to press against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

Kneeling was perhaps a bad idea. He's not sure if he has the strength to stand up again.

Dryly, despite a tremor in his voice, "you know, I hadn't noticed, Lioness? I completely missed the gaping wound in my shoulder."

He shakes his head. "I... I'm sory. You didn't deserve that."

*Alanna uses the tree trunk to pull herself back up. One hand pressed to the wound in her side, she wraps the cloak firmly around her body and smiles grimly at Alex.*

No, Alex. You didn't deserve that.

*She points to his shoulder. With one last look at his face, she bows weakly, collects Werewindle and begins to walk toward the staff quarters. A walk that had always seemed so pleasant suddenly seems to stretch on forever, allowing far too much time to contemplate the true meaning of regret.*

He slumps against a tree, one hand pressing a wad of his cloak against his wounded shoulder.

Quietly, "yes, I did. I deserve it all."