the_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

There's a special kind of frenetic energy in the Royal Palace tonight. The King and Queen's retainers are split between preparing for the Progress or the journey to Pirate's Swoop and the diplomatic reception to be held in the Golden Ballroom in one hour's time.

Therefore it should be of no surprise to anyone that Alanna is slinking down a less-traveled corridor, taking a very convoluted route to the courtyard and the fencing yards beyond.

She's entirely too restless to stay indoors this evening, let alone be diplomatic, with the current atmosphere. Saying goodbye to Jon can wait until morning. Maybe she'll even wake him up. That's always fun.

Boots in hand, she ducks into a curtained alcove as two servants hurry past, then sneaks toward the north service staircase. Not far now. She can almost feel the night breeze on her face.

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"Now this is just sad."

Why yes, Alanna, that would be your king standing at the top of the stairs with his arms crossed.

Goddess!

The curse she actually vocalizes is a lot more colorful.

"Jon," she hisses, "what are you doing?"

Because clearly it's his behavior, his sneaking around, that should be called into question.

"I would ask you the same question, except the answer is obvious." He nods to the boots in her hands. "There's going to be better wine at the reception than what you can find in the stables, you know."

There might be the hint of a smile lurking around his lips.

Alanna makes a face at him.

"You confuse me with my father," she grinds out. "The taste of wine, no matter how good, will never be enough to tempt me to one of those-" she sniffs contemptuously "-affairs."

Beat.

"Besides, I need to train."

It's hopeful. Never mind that she's been training with the Riders all week.

Yup. Not going to work.

"You've been training with the Riders all week, along with my lovely wife, Alanna." Jon sighs. "I know you hate affairs, but how do you think I feel? You want to strand your king there alone, left to fend off the wheedling council members and eager ambassadors all by himself?"

There is a dangerous twinkle in his eye. "Don't make me order you to come back and tell the story of your early exploits to the new ambassador from Galla."

Her teeth are clenched so tightly she's in danger of straining a jaw muscle.

"That is entirely unfair," she protests, thrusting her chin out. Then: "The new ambassador of Galla can't possibly be interested in my early exploits. If he is, then call in one of the court minstrels!"

She's met the new ambassador from Galla. It will still take him a while to figure out that she's not actually ten feet tall.

Jon shrugs. "Then don't make me order you. Make an appearance, just for an hour and then you have my blessing to go hide with Mithros for as long as you want."

"I might have saved a few bottles of Olau cider for a special occasion and could possibly be persuaded to break them out." He raises an eyebrow.

More swearing fills their immediate vicinity.

Ignoring both suggestion and enticement, she says, "I ride with your Queen. Surely you wish me to be as prepared as possible?"

Pure stubbornness is written all over her face.

"Alanna," Jon says, exasperated. "It's one hour. How bad could it possibly be?"

He steps towards her, holding his hands spread out. "Is there something else going on I should know about or are you purposely trying to vex me?"

Her eyes dart over her shoulder. The corridor remains clear, so she grasps his hands and moves them both in a quarter turn. This leaves them each with equal access to the hall and the stairwell.

Not that she means to flee, of course. But she has one last card to play.

"I only purposely vex you on special occasions," Alanna insists. "I could go with you, though you know very well the answer to your own question. I might even make an attempt at pleasantries. For you, I would, as I am ever your vassal." She grins slyly. "Or we could escape together."

It's really not an option. She knows it's not an option, but reason dictates she has to try. Already she's consoling herself with images of Jon having to smile and make nice with the Carthaki Ambassador's wife.

Jon hesitates, just for a moment. Because while the offer is more than tempting, he's no longer a prince nor Alanna his squire. Though she might still put a frog in his bed for his next actions.

He gives her hands a quick squeeze, then tugs them, pulling her towards him. He bends down so her stomach meets her shoulder, and he stands, Alanna draped over his shoulder.

"I wish I could, Lioness. I truly wish I could." He starts heading down the corridor. "And I wish you would stop eating all those apple tarts."

Apple tarts!?!

His loving and dedicated champion gives his ear a nasty twist.

"Jonathan, put me down!" she snarls. "Don't make me kick my king!"

They both know that if he were anyone else, he'd be in a lot more pain right now.

"OW! Gods take you, Alanna, that hurt!"

This doesn't stop him from continuing down the corridor.

"I'll put you down if you agree to act like an adult for an hour. And no kicking or I'll put you on the entire Progress route with the Gallan ambassador." No, he doesn't see a contradiction in his words.

A low growl works its way up her throat.

"Fine," is muttered ungraciously. "I'll go for an hour."

Even if she feels the more sensible 'adult' thing is to be where other people are not. There's much less chance she'll offend them that way.

"But only if you agree to grant me an hour afterward."

His eyebrows raise in surprise, but he sets her down. He gives her a look as he straightens his tunic.

"And what horrible surprises might that hour entail?" he asks her suspiciously.

Clutching at the shreds of her dignity, she pulls down on her simple tunic and glares haughtily at him.

"After that, I should leave you to suspect the worst!" She sniffs. "Apple tarts."

That was just mean.

"But, if you must know, I thought we should spend some time together. Goddess knows when I'll see you next."

The sentiment is there, despite her ornery expression.

He eyes her, but his expression softens. "That would be nice."

He reaches over and tweaks her nose. "You know I didn't mean that about the apple tarts. You are slender like a young willow tree." He grins and bows to her elaborately.

Alanna snorts and rolls her eyes. She has no delusions about her body.

"A young willow that is really a nice, sturdy oak," she says wryly. "I need to change."

A raised eyebrow asks: Do you trust me or are you coming along?

"All right. But if you aren't down in 10 minutes, I'm sending Ambassador Cullom up to fetch you."

Jon ruffles her hair. "Buck up, Lioness. One hour than you may torment me all you like."

He heads down the corridor, whistling softly.

She watches him go, then glances at the stairs. They're right there. So close. She could slip down them and be outside in under five minutes.

Alanna pulls on her boots and sighs heavily. At least it's just for an hour. That won't kill her, though she makes no promises for anyone else.

Exactly ten minutes later, not one second earlier, she meets Jon in his audience chamber. She's even wearing a dress.

"Satisfied?" she barks.

"Completely," Jon replies with a smile. "I know you won't believe me, but you do look lovely."

"Hmph."

A hint of a smile appears, before she remembers she's annoyed.

"Lead on, Your Highness. I have foreign dignitaries to-" a sly smile "-impress."

Funny how she makes 'impress' sound like 'enrage.'

Jon finds himself squeezing the ridge of his nose. Somehow this always happens when Alanna is at formal functions.

"Just don't insult their lineage this time? I had Lord Fontaine hounding me for weeks."

He does it to himself. She was perfectly happy to be elsewhere.

"Well he DOES come from a line of unconscionable scavengers," she grumbles, following him to the ballroom. "At least I didn't tell him he also looks like a ferret."

The candlelight in the ballroom seems to reflect off every golden surface. Alanna throws a hand in front of her face and blinks, then looks around.

Thayet is regarding them both with a raised eyebrow.

Jon smiles apologetically at his wife, taking Alanna's elbow and leading her towards Thayet, while hissing in her ear, "do not tell anyone what animal they resemble, please".

"Look who I managed to track down," he says with a grin to Thayet.

Thayet's smile is cool and regal, but her eyes are dancing with humor.

"As ever, I am impressed with your hunting skills, my lord." She gives Alanna a nod. "Darkmoon looked well this morning."

The sullen expression fades into a genuine smile.

"He did, didn't he? And your new mare moves nicely. They'll both enjoy the journey."

She might just survive this hour if she can talk about horses long enough.

Jon smiles and shakes his head. "I expect you to make nice with other people besides the queen, Lioness."

Alanna gives him a withering look, then spies someone over his shoulder and schools her expression into a mask of polite interest. Her eyes, however, are not nearly so placid.

"Really, Jon. You always assume the worst."

"Your Majesties," a stiff, accented voice says from his left side. The Carthaki ambassador bows low to Jon, then Thayet, and insinuates himself into the conversation. Just as he's about to launch into meaningless court platitudes, Alanna interrupts with,

"Ambassador! The King was just telling me how he means to dance with your lovely wife this evening."

Take that, Jon. The woman has two left feet, and possibly an extra heel.

Jon manages to keep his expression neutral, but just barely.

He turns and smiles at the swarthy man next to him. "Yes, I did. I'm trying to keep in practice, as the pressures of ruling so seldom allow me the pleasure of dancing."

His face brightens suddenly and he gestures at Alanna. "And I'm sure Sir Alanna would be more than happy to dance with you, sir!"

Evil!Jon is evil.

Alanna clenches her teeth and feels her face go red with anger.

This is a bad, bad idea.

No way can she be diplomatic one on one to the man representing Carthak. Why he probably put their whole Realm at risk, working with those creatures, passing information between Ozorne and Sinthya -- information about Numair, Thayet, Jon...

A low warning sound sticks in her throat. She forces herself to smile blandly and look to Thayet.

Thayet interprets the look accurately, having had lots of practice, and turns her most charming smile on the Ambassador. There's no love lost between them, but she plays the game exceptionally well.

"And deny me the honor, my lord? I'm certain I promised the next dance to the Ambassador before you arrived," she says smoothly.

The Ambassador blinks, then nods. While he does not recall such a claim, he knows better than to openly insult the Queen. She is also, it must be said, a better dance partner than the redheaded harridan.

Jon gives his amazing, beautiful wife a relieved smile as she accepts the Ambassador's hand and they head to the floor. He waits a moment before turning to Alanna.

"May I have this dance, Lioness?" he asks before she can yell at him.

Later, she thinks. Later she will thump him on the head. For the moment all she can do is take his hand and march out on the dance floor.

At least it's a waltz. She's particularly bad with the dances that require partners to separate and show more individual flair. Here, Jon can do most of the work while she growls at him.

"I want to rearrange his face," she grumbles quietly.

Memories are long at court, and people still talk about and question the king's relationship with his champion. Alanna catches one of the ladies in waiting, a girl fresh from the convent, eyeing them and whispering to a friend. She glares back.

"I know. And so do I, but we can't. That's why we have politics."

Jon pushes her out for a spin, then pulls her back in lightly, covering her stumble with a bit of footwork.

He doens't miss the whispering. "Do you think we'll ever escape the talk?"

Post stumble Alanna digs her short nails into his shoulder, then pats where they marked his tunic.

"No," she admits, twisting her mouth in a wry smile. "Even without the truth of what we had, there would still be rumors."

It's petty and relatively harmless, if small-minded.

"Thayet ignores them."

Jon nods, but looks a bit relieved.

"I do worry, occasionally. The discussions of my youthful indescretions seem to never tire the courtiers and I don't want her to look like a fool."

Alanna bristles, going stiff in his arms.

"I was a youthful indiscretion?" she snaps under her breath.

Jon rolls his eyes and tightens his grip on her hand. "Of course not, Alanna. I meant all the ladies AFTER you. There were a few, if you remember."

Hmph.

She squeezes back, staring hotly at the collar of his shirt.

"And before," she points out. Relaxing her shoulders, she looks over to where Thayet is smiling, albeit thinly, at the Carthaki ambassador. "No one could make her look a fool. She's every inch a queen."

You chose wisely, Jon. Eventually.

Jon turns Alanna enough to follow her gaze and his smile softens as he takes in his lady.

"She is. And I have you to thank for her. I don't think I can ever thank you enough for that."

Alanna flashes a bright, sly smile.

"We could sneak away early."

That ought to give the gossips something to chew over!

Jon laughs, then sobers. "You know I can't. Too many people to keep an eye on."

He sighs, then suddenly grins again. He steps in and dips Alanna dramatically as the music swells to an end.

Thankfully the music swallows her undignified squeak of surprise. She glares at him until he returns her to an upright position, nods her head formally in lieu of a curtsy and fixes a smile on her face.

"You are definitely getting a frog in your bed later."

Jon steps back and bows to Alanna, his eyes sparkling.

"I look forward to it, Lioness. Enjoy your evening; I feel the need to dance with my queen."

He gives her a small wink as he turns to find Thayet.

Alanna narrows her eyes until he walks away, then smiles. He won't be nearly so cavalier when he realizes she intends to use the hour he'd promised her for sparring, lest he get rusty on Progress.

Spying the Carthaki walking away from Thayet, Alanna suddenly finds ample motivation to head the other direction and say hello to the new Gallan ambassador.

The fact that Gary is already talking to him likely has something to do with that, too. With any luck, they'll run off the ambassador and be left to talk in peace for, oh, forty-five minutes or so.

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