(no subject)

[the_lioness]

It is late, so late it is nearly early, when Faithful lands on Alanna's still-bound chest with claws extended and meows an order to awake. The order is superfluous, but it does at least keep Alanna from reaching for the dagger under her pillow and doing away with the unseen assailant stabbing her in several places at once.

"You Gods-cursed cat! Get your claws out of me!"

Faithful blinks down at her and begins to wash a paw. You need to be awake.

"Why?" Alanna grouses, pushing him off so she can sit up, pull down her shirt, and poke at the shallow scratches peppering her skin.

In the way of all felines everywhere, Faithful ignores her question and continues doing what he wants, when he wants to do it. Right now that means curling up on the pillow Alanna has just vacated. She groans and rubs her hands over her face, looking around her small room while she pulls herself away from the remnants of her dreams.

Her room.

She doesn't see much of it these days, especially not as she awakens. Had Jon not come back to their rooms last night? Alanna remembers waiting up, telling herself she shouldn't remove her bindings until he returned, and the next thing she knew Faithful was in her face. Goddess, that can't be good. Scrambling up and away from clinging blankets, Alanna rushes barefoot into Jon's room and pulls up short when she sees him, sitting by the fire, staring blankly into the flames. The shadows under his eyes suggest he hasn't slept at all, but what worries her far more is the haunted look in his blue eyes.

"Jon?" she whispers, making as little noise as possible as she moves forward, not wanting to startle him. He doesn't turn or give any indication that he's heard. "Jonathan?"

Alanna reaches his side and gently rests a hand on his arm before she enters his line of sight. Still he fails to blink or focus on anything external. "Why didn't you wake me?" she asks, biting her lip when she hears the trembling in her own voice. "What's happened?"

Something must have happened.

Slowly, Jon shifts his gaze to Alanna's face, eyes searching for answers she can't yet provide. "She's sick. Mother's sick. Again."

Sucking in a breath, Alanna pulls over a cushion and kneels on it, refusing to take her eyes off his. Her hand reaches up, brushing a lock of black hair off his forehead, and for several seconds she is too swamped by a wave of love, of wanting to banish that look in his eyes, to speak. "The fever?" she asks at last, voice husky.

Jon nods miserably, turning back to the fire.

The fever had appeared in the Eastern Lands no more than a week prior, sweeping out from the first reported cases like a wave washing ashore. Not much damage has been done yet and it might not prove very deadly, but Queen Lianne never fully recovered from her battle with the Sweating Sickness. A sickness Alanna still believes might have been caused by a sorcerer.

"It isn't the same," she tries, knowing her words are poor comfort. "It's not like last time."

"She's still weak," is all he says in response, and Alanna can't argue otherwise.

"I know," she says, "but Duke Baird is with her, I assume?" He nods. "He's blessed by the gods, Jon. I wouldn't trust anyone so much as him."

Jon's gaze finds hers again, an unasked question hovering in the air between them.

Alanna sucks in a breath and holds it, then nods. "Of course. I am at your disposal. Not," she starts when he looks like he might protest, "because I feel I must. Because I... you're my best friend, Jon. Of course I'll do what I can."

He exhales shakily. "I'll tell Duke Baird you can step in if he needs relief."

"Yes. Or if he needs anything. I'll be there." Alanna pushes up and leans into his chest, looking in his eyes for a moment before kissing him lightly on the lips. "I'm sorry."

He nods again and kisses her back, hard, hands on either side of her face. It isn't a romantic kiss, or even a friendly one. It's deeper, a non-verbal reminder of the ties between them, the ways in which they have saved each other over and over, and maybe a hint of an apology, too.

Things will be different now. There's no way around it.

They sit there in silence until the sun peaks in around the heavy curtains, and Alanna lets go of him long enough to get dressed. Faithful is still on her pillow, sleeping peacefully, and she glares at her cat the way she wants to glare at Roger: full of accusation and temper.

Jon is pacing when she returns, face washed and tunic changed, and he starts to say something to her but stops, unsure. She nods and says, "I know." They both know where he'll be in the coming weeks. Why it feels like an ending is something she'll have to examine later.

She kisses him one last time before they leave and tries not to think of it as goodbye.

The palace is hardly silent at this hour, but their footsteps still echo in Alanna's ears. When they come to the stairway closest to their rooms, she pulls up and turns to face him again, her squire's deference settling around her like a cloak. "Your Majesty, I fear I must leave you here. I think I'll pay the Great Mother's chapel a visit before my morning duties. I'll light a candle and offer my prayers," she adds, softly.

Jonathan swallows and gives her a small, pained smile, his thoughts already at the end of this hall in the royal chambers. "Thank you, Alan." He drops his hand on her shoulder and squeezes, then walks away with his head as high as he can likely manage.

"Is it true?" a husky voice asks just behind Alanna. She scowls and turns, only a little surprised to see Lady Delia. Whisper-soft slippers do have their advantages, she supposes.

She doesn't answer right away. The girl seems genuinely concerned, her beautiful green eyes following the Prince down the corridor. Alanna forces herself to swallow a moment of jealousy. "I don't know," she says. And she doesn't, for no one has made her aware of the current court gossip. "But I think we would all do well to offer extra prayers to the Goddess."

One can never offend the gods that way, surely.

Delia glances at her, searching her eyes, and looks like she might say something else only to hold her peace. For that, Alanna almost likes her. She gives the girl a shallow bow and extends an arm to the stairs, suggesting silently that they see to their prayers as soon as possible. Delia nods, and together the Lady and the squire slip down the stairs.