the_lioness | Early December, 445 HE

Early December, 445 HE

Usually Alanna bursts in on Jon like a battering ram, full of restless energy and a barely hidden disdain for protocol. Court has that effect on her peace of mind. His guards have come to expect such behavior from Jon's champion, though they still don't approve. Therefore, they stare at her in disbelief when, one chilly afternoon, she solemnly asks to be announced.

"Well, go on," she urges, impatience flickering in her gaze.

On slightly more familiar ground, one of the guards nods and knocks once on the heavy wooden door. He announces, "The Lioness to see you, Your Highness."

"Thank you," Alanna replies mildly.

Will wonders never cease?

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Jon looks up from his desk, eyebrows shooting up as he registers the words his guard is saying. "Come in," he replies, and exchanges a glance with the man as he opens the door and Alanna stalks in.

"Thank you, Merril. Please do not let anyone disturb us for a bit."

As the door closes, Jon turns to Alanna. "Alanna. Anything you'd like to tell me?"

Not only was her entrance oddly formal, but she's dressed with more care than is her wont, which can mean she's been turning something unpleasant over and over in her mind. Her boots are polished, and her scarlet and gold tunic looks new; the expression in her eyes, however, is stormy.

She sinks into a chair and shakes her head.

"Nothing I particularly want to tell you," she answers at last.

Yeah, something is wrong.

Jon pulls a chair over and takes her hands, his eyes worried.

"If it's something you don't want to tell you, it means you definitely should." He chucks her under the chin. "What is going on, Alanna?"

He's always so kind. Alanna feels like a rat asking this of him when he's put up with so much from her over the years. She sighs and stares at their hands, shaking her head again.

"I don't know. I'd stop it if I could, but-" Biting her lip hard, she meets his eyes, wondering if he can sense how tense she is from head to foot. Then she blurts out, "Could you send me away for awhile?"

Oh. Jon sits back, still holding her hands.

"I could arrange something," he replies slowly. "Are you sure you should go?" He doesn't want to say, 'instead of running away' without knowing what has caused this.

A swift nod.

"If I don't," she replies at last, after pulling a hand free and picking at the expensive fabric of her tunic, "I'm apt to do something stupid and reckless. As I've promised to at least try to avoid such eventualities, it makes more sense to ask you for something official."

All of which is code for 'I feel restless' in Alanna speak.

Ahhh. Jon gives her remaining hand a squeeze, then releases her.

"Did you have any place in particular in mind?" He looks thoughtful. "Because there is a situation developing. I hadn't decided what to do about it yet, but this could be an ideal solution."

She hadn't. Thus far, her plan had consisted of striking out in whichever direction seemed most interesting (South), as soon as she could do so under some sort of semi-official guise. Anything to soothe the temper she'd been letting loose on everyone in her vicinity. It's one thing to snap at adults; there's something disturbingly ignoble about doing it to one's own children.

They're three for Mithros' sake. They don't understand.

At least Adam has some -- okay, lots of -- experience with her temper.

"Situation?" Alanna eyes her king with poorly hidden hope. "A threat to the realm?"

Really, she shouldn't sound so excited about it.

Jon hides a small smile, but his expression quickly becomes serious.

"I don't know how up you are on Tyran politics, with the attention you pay at Council meetings," he flashes her a quick smile, "but our ambassador there has been hearing some disturbing rumours. What do you know about King Armal?"

She lifts her chin and narrows her eyes at him.

"King Armal is young and inexperienced, but he's widely popular with his people. They consider him just. However, certain of our diplomats and strategists believe this to be a side effect of Tyra's continued prosperity. If the tables were to turn, so to speak, Armal might have difficulty separating himself from the situation and maintaining his rule."

She pays attention! Sometimes. When it matters.

"What sort of disturbing rumors?"

"Very good, Lioness."

Jon pulls a rolled paper from his pocket. "We received this message from our ambassador in Tyra. Apparently Armal has a new friend whispering in his ear." He grimaces. "The Gallan ambassador."

Alanna unfurls the paper in her lap and reads, whispering the words aloud to herself. When she's done, her startled eyes meet his.

"The Jewel? He speaks of Tyra's right to the Jewel?"

Her expression darkens.

Edited 2008-06-05 17:54 (UTC)

"Yes." Jon's expression is grim. "Armal is no fool, but he is young. And since his uncle passed, he has had no one close to confide in."

He shakes his head. "Your father believes this Colbern is attempting to get the Jewel back for Galla, while focusing the retribution on Tyra."

"I'd like to see them try," she snarls.

Then, realizing this reaction doesn't exactly recommend her as the person most suited to deal with Colbern's deceit, she reins in her temper.

"Giamo of Galla -- the Tyrant -- stole the Jewel and used it poorly. It was later stolen again by a Carthaki thief, at the request of Gallans looking to overthrow Giamo's descendant. She kept it, and made her way to Tyra," Alanna says quietly, repeating the stories Coram had told her as a child. They both know the history, but sometimes it helps to revisit it aloud. "With it, she and Zefrem the Bear helped save Tyra from the Carthaki navy; some say it was the Jewel compelling them to act in Tyra's defense. The Jewel went to Maren next. Tyra still prospers, as does Maren. Galla's empire collapsed.

"Someone should remind Colbern of the consequences the last time Galla used the Jewel for ill-gain." A smirk. "And that it's tied to you and the land, and he'll have to go through me to separate it."

Jon grins, a hard grin. "That's precisely what I want you to do." He cocks an eyebrow at her. "Do you think you can handle being diplomatic for a time? Which means not challenging every person you meet?"

She doesn't challenge every person she meets. Just the intolerable ones!

"Diplomacy obviously hasn't been very effective or else our ambassador would have handled things himself," she says, indignant. "But I promise to think before I act or speak, and not to unduly lose my temper."

Jon shakes his head bemusedly. "Well, it's the least I can ask for."

He glances at her. "When would you be ready to leave?"

A fine, jittery motion seizes one of her hands; the other closes on it, keeping them still by force.

"The end of the week," Alanna answers. "I'll have to say goodbye."

Regret and resignation register on her features.

Then, curious, she tilts her head and asks, "Who would you have sent had I not asked?"

Jon shrugs slightly. "I'm not sure - we were still in the early stages of planning a strategy." He smiles tightly. "You came at just the right time."

He sits forward and takes her hands again, smoothing them with his fingers, and meets her eyes firmly. "Are you sure that this is what you want to do?"

"Yes," and it's decisive. "It's what I need to do."

Under his, her hands shake slightly, and it's evident yet again that she's holding herself in check.

"I haven't been good to my family lately. Or my friends." She looks up. "That has to change, and this is the only way I can see to change it. You know me, Jon. I can't sit still in one place for an indefinite amount of time without feeling trapped. And after we lost-"

She swallows.

"Well, I've been feeling it more acutely. I'm hoping this will soothe that itch, and the next time it becomes a problem, the triplets will be old enough for a long journey. Just... Can you keep this conversation in the strictest confidence? I don't ever want them to know that I asked this of you."

It tastes like betrayal, no matter how necessary the outcome.

Edited 2008-06-12 15:25 (UTC)

Jon nods. "Of course, Alanna. I would never say anything."

He looks at her seriously. "For the record? I think you are doing the right thing. You are serving your kingdom, and that means your family and friends. Acting to protect them. And that is an act of utmost honor."

A laugh escapes, soft and self-deprecating, and she lifts a hand to touch his cheek.

"You're kind to say so, Your Highness." She smiles. "But we both know I would have insisted that we think up some excuse to send me away if a very real reason hadn't presented itself. But I'm happy that's not necessary, and I'm honored that you trust me with this task. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Lioness."

Jon smiles at her and then rises from his seat. "I am feeling hte need for some lunch and a good long ride. Care to join me?"

Relief pours off her in waves. She stands, nodding and smiling, and sweeps a formal bow.

"I would," Alanna answers. "And tonight I think I will spend some time reviewing my Tyran history, so that I might surprise Myles with dates and details when he discovers my destination."

That's one of the hazards of having their former history master as a father; he likes to quiz her to keep her on her toes.

"Thanks, Jon." She starts walking, inclining her head to the still suspicious guard when he opens the door. "Have I told you about the new foal? 'Darkmoon' seems a good name to me..."

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Early December, 445 HE

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