learn me right
Title: learn me right
Rating: PG
Summary: Alanna continued packing, ignoring the nervous feeling she felt at seeing her daughter for the first time in over a year.
Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce owns "Daughter of the Lioness" and all related characters; I own nothing.
Author's Notes: Originally written for the Relay Triathalon challenge over at womenverse, for the prompts "a murder of crows or an unkindess of ravens", as well as mentions of specific types of shoes.
Sir Alanna of Olau and Pirate's Swoop paused to polish her riding boots one last time. Through the open window, she could hear the sounds of servants going about last minute preparations, the crash of the ocean waves, and the sound of animals moving about in the courtyard below. Over it all was the near-constant chatter of crows from the flock that had taken up residence at the castle shortly after George’s return from finding Aly.
She studied the boots for a long moment before carefully stowing them into one of the chests she was taking with her for the voyage to the Copper Islands. They were departing tomorrow morning to attend the coronation of Dovasary, although they were arriving months earlier than needed. Officially, it was because Jon had wanted his best knight and champion to oversee the islands’ rebuilding and ensure that rebellious elements wouldn't pose a threat to Tortall's interests. They would be meeting the rest of the delegation at Port Caynn tomorrow evening, and sailing the next day. Unofficially, however…
“Nervous?” her husband, George, asked from the doorway.
“Of course not,” Alanna answered quickly, her back to him as she reviewed the contents. She had shirts, breeches, and tunics, all meant for everyday wear. Her evening wear, including dancing slippers and several new dresses, were already packed. She was optimistically leaving her heavy armor here at Pirate’s Swoop, although she doubted she’d have room in her luggage even if she wanted to bring it.
“Well, we are about to go sailing,” George commented, his footsteps drawing closer to her. “I’m pretty sure everybody in the kingdom knows how much the fearsome Lioness loves boats.”
“Well, it’s not like there’s another way to reach the Islands,” Alanna retorted, turning to face George. She rubbed her left shoulder, out of instinct more than anything else. Her scars weren’t hurting too badly today, but she had no doubt they’d flare up at the most inopportune time, namely while she was as sick as a dog on the boat.
His hand reached around her waist and pulled her gently against him. “Or it could be that you’re nervous about seeing Aly again,” George continued, his voice becoming quieter and losing its teasing edge.
Alanna bit back her first instinct, which was to tell George not to be absurd. They’d known each other too long, had been married too long. Even with George’s damned secret keeping (she still hadn’t fully forgiven him for not telling her that Aly was missing right away), they could read each other in a way few others could. Despite the fact that he was hiding behind smiles and jokes, she could see how much Aly choosing to live in the Cooper Islands pained him, as much as he was proud of what she’s done for herself. Even if she denied feeling anxious about seeing her daughter again, he’ll see right through it.
“If you remember,” Alanna said quietly, “we didn’t part on the best of terms.”
Out of all her children, she related the least to Aly. As much as it hurt to admit, even privately, part of it was her fault. Thom was born during a quiet period when she could spend time with him, and Alan was the most like her. Aly, however, was both too much like her and not enough at the same time, and they clashed more often than not. And, what hurt the most, what kept her awake during the final days of the war, was the thought that none of this would have happened had they not fought when Alanna had returned home for rest over a year ago.
“Oh, lass.” George’s arms tightened around her, and he kissed the top of her head. “Don’t blame yourself. The Trickster would’ve found a way to get her to the Islands somehow.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Alanna asked, looking up at him.
“Maybe,” he answered, running one of his hands down her back.
Hearing a resumption in “caws”, followed closely by familiar shouts promising dire vengeance, Alanna looked out the window and snorted, breaking the somber moment. “That damned flock of crows seems to have made it their life mission to make things as hard as possible on poor old Maude.”
“Murder.”
“What?” Alanna asked, turning to look at George.
“A murder of crows, love. You learn these things running with the Trickster,” George told her solemnly, although his eyes danced playfully. “And if you think they’re bad here, wait until you get to his kingdom.”
“Your Trickster has an odd sense of humor,” Alanna replied, a smile tugging at her lips, despite the fact that she wanted to smack the god if he ever appeared in her presence.
George leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Just wait until you meet Aly’s boy.” At Alanna’s raised eyebrow, he smirked. “Wait and see. I’m not going to spoil the surprise.”
Alanna leans up to give him a quick kiss before stepping out of his embrace. “Tease,” she accused him playfully. “Now let me be, laddy boy. I still need to finish packing.”
George sneaked in another kiss before stepping back outside to finish his preparations. Looking back at the window, she wasn’t surprised to see one of the crows perched on the still, studying her with a gleam in its eyes.
“Don’t think that because she’s safe, all’s forgiven,” she told the crow sternly. “Your god and I still have an account to settle.”
The bird only cawed and flew away. Alanna watched it for a moment before turning her attention back to her packing. She had a long voyage ahead of her, and despite the knot of worry in her chest, she couldn’t help but look forward to its end and the daughter that awaited her.
Rating: PG
Summary: Alanna continued packing, ignoring the nervous feeling she felt at seeing her daughter for the first time in over a year.
Disclaimer: Tamora Pierce owns "Daughter of the Lioness" and all related characters; I own nothing.
Author's Notes: Originally written for the Relay Triathalon challenge over at womenverse, for the prompts "a murder of crows or an unkindess of ravens", as well as mentions of specific types of shoes.
Sir Alanna of Olau and Pirate's Swoop paused to polish her riding boots one last time. Through the open window, she could hear the sounds of servants going about last minute preparations, the crash of the ocean waves, and the sound of animals moving about in the courtyard below. Over it all was the near-constant chatter of crows from the flock that had taken up residence at the castle shortly after George’s return from finding Aly.
She studied the boots for a long moment before carefully stowing them into one of the chests she was taking with her for the voyage to the Copper Islands. They were departing tomorrow morning to attend the coronation of Dovasary, although they were arriving months earlier than needed. Officially, it was because Jon had wanted his best knight and champion to oversee the islands’ rebuilding and ensure that rebellious elements wouldn't pose a threat to Tortall's interests. They would be meeting the rest of the delegation at Port Caynn tomorrow evening, and sailing the next day. Unofficially, however…
“Nervous?” her husband, George, asked from the doorway.
“Of course not,” Alanna answered quickly, her back to him as she reviewed the contents. She had shirts, breeches, and tunics, all meant for everyday wear. Her evening wear, including dancing slippers and several new dresses, were already packed. She was optimistically leaving her heavy armor here at Pirate’s Swoop, although she doubted she’d have room in her luggage even if she wanted to bring it.
“Well, we are about to go sailing,” George commented, his footsteps drawing closer to her. “I’m pretty sure everybody in the kingdom knows how much the fearsome Lioness loves boats.”
“Well, it’s not like there’s another way to reach the Islands,” Alanna retorted, turning to face George. She rubbed her left shoulder, out of instinct more than anything else. Her scars weren’t hurting too badly today, but she had no doubt they’d flare up at the most inopportune time, namely while she was as sick as a dog on the boat.
His hand reached around her waist and pulled her gently against him. “Or it could be that you’re nervous about seeing Aly again,” George continued, his voice becoming quieter and losing its teasing edge.
Alanna bit back her first instinct, which was to tell George not to be absurd. They’d known each other too long, had been married too long. Even with George’s damned secret keeping (she still hadn’t fully forgiven him for not telling her that Aly was missing right away), they could read each other in a way few others could. Despite the fact that he was hiding behind smiles and jokes, she could see how much Aly choosing to live in the Cooper Islands pained him, as much as he was proud of what she’s done for herself. Even if she denied feeling anxious about seeing her daughter again, he’ll see right through it.
“If you remember,” Alanna said quietly, “we didn’t part on the best of terms.”
Out of all her children, she related the least to Aly. As much as it hurt to admit, even privately, part of it was her fault. Thom was born during a quiet period when she could spend time with him, and Alan was the most like her. Aly, however, was both too much like her and not enough at the same time, and they clashed more often than not. And, what hurt the most, what kept her awake during the final days of the war, was the thought that none of this would have happened had they not fought when Alanna had returned home for rest over a year ago.
“Oh, lass.” George’s arms tightened around her, and he kissed the top of her head. “Don’t blame yourself. The Trickster would’ve found a way to get her to the Islands somehow.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Alanna asked, looking up at him.
“Maybe,” he answered, running one of his hands down her back.
Hearing a resumption in “caws”, followed closely by familiar shouts promising dire vengeance, Alanna looked out the window and snorted, breaking the somber moment. “That damned flock of crows seems to have made it their life mission to make things as hard as possible on poor old Maude.”
“Murder.”
“What?” Alanna asked, turning to look at George.
“A murder of crows, love. You learn these things running with the Trickster,” George told her solemnly, although his eyes danced playfully. “And if you think they’re bad here, wait until you get to his kingdom.”
“Your Trickster has an odd sense of humor,” Alanna replied, a smile tugging at her lips, despite the fact that she wanted to smack the god if he ever appeared in her presence.
George leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Just wait until you meet Aly’s boy.” At Alanna’s raised eyebrow, he smirked. “Wait and see. I’m not going to spoil the surprise.”
Alanna leans up to give him a quick kiss before stepping out of his embrace. “Tease,” she accused him playfully. “Now let me be, laddy boy. I still need to finish packing.”
George sneaked in another kiss before stepping back outside to finish his preparations. Looking back at the window, she wasn’t surprised to see one of the crows perched on the still, studying her with a gleam in its eyes.
“Don’t think that because she’s safe, all’s forgiven,” she told the crow sternly. “Your god and I still have an account to settle.”
The bird only cawed and flew away. Alanna watched it for a moment before turning her attention back to her packing. She had a long voyage ahead of her, and despite the knot of worry in her chest, she couldn’t help but look forward to its end and the daughter that awaited her.