Tamora Pierce fanfiction wise, I haven't been a great author. So, this is a story to sort of boost my wanting to continue my story. Hopefully I will be able to post up the next chapter to Missing Adventure soon after this.
Warning: This is all A/J
Disclaimer: I don't own anything by Tamora Pierce.
It was an honor to have Alanna as his squire. Sometimes, he even secretly prided his stupidity in taking her to the Black City, where many things were discovered. If it wasn't for the Ysandir that revealed to him that Alan of Trebond was actually a female in disguise, he would have never known. Yes, it was an honor all right.
When Gary ran up to him claiming he had heard the bells as he passed by Lady Cythera's room, he roared with laughter and told Gary that he needed a different pastime. Yet, while walking past his rooms, he stopped to watch his squire interact with Faithful. The cat rubbed his nose against her bare heel, and she suddenly threw her head back and laughed. Stunned, he realized that Gary was right about something. The bells were ringing.
Being the heir to the throne, he was the main center of attention every night. Even on his infamous squire's birthday, he was the center of attention. What his squire didn't know was that though he was the center of attention physically, she would always remain as the center of attention in his thoughts, forever.
What was duty? The country and its people were place first, self next. He learned that the hard way. Sure he had his lessons about it, but he never took those lessons seriously. Being an only child and the handsome heir to the throne, he was showered upon daily with gifts. It made him feel as though he always came first.
He soon learned that the country would end up in turmoil without him. Looking back at the last battle with Duke Roger, he realized how important his duty to his country was. No matter what, his duty came first. Just like the kings before him and the soon to be kings after him. A king would do his duty.
Kings would and should always make history. Drilled into his head day after day, he never thought else wise. Only after the messy first years of his knighthood did he realize that he could never make history. Not without his sword arm. His best friend. His squire. His love.
He had always told others to follow their hearts. He never was labeled as a sap, but he was known to give good advice for love after his parents' deaths. After a short revelation, he noticed that very few people gave him advice on love. Any advice given, he acted upon it. He strived to have an open mind as advised by his father. He strived to be gentler as advised by his mother. He strived to be less arrogant as advised by her.
Thayet never understood why Alanna told her that Jon was always arrogant. He didn't seem like that nowadays…
He knew this would happen. He mentally prepared himself, for he knew she followed her lessons well. She had it drilled in her head, as well, day after day. A squire of the future king should know his – or in this case her – duty well. That duty came before anything. So when she said "No," he knew that she felt it too. The duty that came with their roles becoming stronger than their love struck them hard. So, he moved on and persevered through everything. His only motivation of that perseverance was that she felt the same drive and was behind him all the way.
It came as no surprise to him when Roald found out about his true love for Alanna. He really wasn't that discreet. Either the nobles were blind and daft or they just chose not to see it. What did surprise him was that his son stood by him the whole way.
"After all," he said, "if you cannot love from up close, at least love from afar."
Her piercing stare is able to see through every lie he weaves around him. He supposes she gets it from her mother. His decision to be quite honest around her is what gives them their strong connection. When she was young, he confessed everything to her. Her ability to listen to everything he said is what kept him some throughout the years that Alanna refused to talk to him. When he sent her away to be married, he couldn't look anyone in the eye for days.
When Kalasin visited, she gave him one look and said, "Tell me that you've told Alanna whatever you've told me because if you haven't, I'll tell her myself." Once again, everything that was spoken from his lips was the truth. Kalasin just drew out his honesty.
Every Midwinter he would receive many gifts in blue. He really didn't understand why everyone pegged him as a blue loving man, and every year his wardrobe would fill up with various items in various shades of blue.
It amused him and amazed him when, one year, he finally received a completely random item in a color other than blue. He was now the proud owner of a pair of red socks with a note on it.
I never pegged you as a blue loving man A
Holding the pair of socks in hand, he smiled. Red always was his favorite color.
He knew she had an excellent memory. So, it was odd that it surprised him that she remembered the exact time and date of their first kiss. No one realized that within the pendant he wore around his wrist was a picture of herself that she gave him on the fifth anniversary of that wondrous day. He knew that they both could only look upon that day as a memory of something that could never be. It just made that memory more worthwhile to remember.
She told him they should try to forget about their past interests. He looked at her as if she grew two heads. He'd love to see her try to forget about everything. What they shared was complicated and strong. The only way it could snap was if both of them tried to move on.
He smirked. She could try all she wanted, but with him holding on, the trial was in his favor.
It is a universal fact that errors are not the most wanted. To put it simply, everyone hates errors no matter what people say about errors being experiences.
He was alone in his study when a petite form entered and locked the door behind her. He looked up to see her wring her hands nervously while walking towards him. He stood up to meet her with a questioning glance.
"I…I can't do it, Jonathan," Alanna whispered.
"You can't do what?" he asked in an equally soft voice.
"I can't pull off this façade any longer." She looked up at him with eyes glistening with unshed tears.
He pulled her towards him, murmuring, "Well, you don't have to do it alone." He cupped her cheek with one hand and ensnared her waist with the other hand. Leaning down, he captured her lips with his own.
He knows now that not all errors come with pain and punishment…some, with pleasure.
Everyone called him crazy. Most of the nobles just shook their heads at the sight of him. Thayet and Buri simply grinned while Raoul and Gary laughed as he passed them.
His gaze locked on a pair of purple eyes dancing with amusement.
"Prepared to die today, sire?" Alanna asked.
"Nope, but I am prepared to ram you off your horse." He always did throw caution into the wind when dealing with Alanna.
For a long time, he was never warm. Sure, Thayet's body warmed him at night, his children warmed a certain part of his heart with their love, and during the summer he was far too hot to complain of the lack of the warmth.
When Alanna returned after her two year trip to Tussaine, no one, except he, knew of her early arrival until later that day. He roamed the hallways that day and abruptly stopped at the sight of the wild red bobbing towards him. After years of the numbness, a sudden flood of heat flowed throughout his body, warming him to the core.
Skidding to a halt before him, she breathlessly said, "I'm back."
A warm smile graced his features, the first since her departing banquet.
What are the chances that the one person he falls madly in love with happens to be his squire?
What are the chances that his squire who was one of the first girls to be knighted in centuries would end up falling just as hard for him?
What are the chances that fate had their futures listed in the sky, yet they went against it?
What are the chances that they both somehow went against all the forces in the universe just for their country and duty?
What are the chances that they didn't have the energy to keep pushing against those forces to be who they wanted to be, alone, without the prying eyes of the court to watch them?
Jonathan of Conte was sick of chances. From here on, he just wanted to take every moment as they came.