(no subject)
Fandom: Tamora Pierce
Title: The Hazard of Love
Warnings: Fluff, otherwise none
Characters: George, Alanna
Summary: The fallout of before, the bittersweet of now, and the promise of after: Alanna and George in ten sets of exactly one hundred words.
The first time she's away from Pirate's Swoop on his birthday, she buys him an unreasonably large present and feels guilty for over a month.
One hour after her departure, Alanna realizes that no mass of daggers - however much George had coveted them at the armory - could make up for her absence. She composes a letter longer than she is tall, wishing she could send herself with it.
His reply is almost comically short. Nevertheless, Alanna thinks she can understand the weight behind every word. Never before, she muses, have four words meant quite so much.
I miss you too.
--
George eats two eggs for breakfast.
Alanna is surprisingly unbothered by the bigger changes to her life; if anything, the change of environment and pace make for quite an exciting adventure. It is the small things - tiny, insignificant things like accidentally putting sugar in his tea or asking the cook for two eggs, forgetting that George consumes two by himself - that convince her, more than anything else, that knighthood was the right choice for her.
Still, she thinks as George smiles across his single egg at her, the world has not fallen into Chaos. I must be doing something right.
--
The third time in three years she is sent home with an injury she could have prevented with more caution, Alanna sits up in her bed and wonders if George will get angry and, moreover, if it would not be completely justified.
There is indeed a flicker of exasperation in his hazel eyes; nevertheless, he appears at her side in three long strides and, without taking his eyes from hers, leans down to kiss her firmly.
"I'm so glad you're all right."
For the first time in her memory, Alanna is not ashamed to feel her eyes fill with tears.
--
It takes four hours for her to discover his ear collection.
"I didn't think you would just throw it away," she comments when he finds her staring at said collection, one eyebrow carefully arched. "But George, under our bed?"
He opens his mouth and closes it again; she continues staring skeptically. "Would you like me to move it?" he finally asks.
She grins, a grin every bit as wolfish as his own. "No." The eyebrow lowers to join its counterpart in a gentle frown. "Try not to add to it, though, if you please."
He matches her grin. "Of course."
--
Five days, Alanna discovers, can be synonymous for 'forever' when your husband is away dealing with an emergency and has left naught but a short note as explanation.
She is unsure whether to be irritated or relieved when he finally returns, looking exhausted but mostly unscathed. Worse, she is unable to voice any complaint without appearing thoroughly hypocritical. Faced with little to say, Alanna makes strong tea and avoids his eyes when he asks if she's sure she's not angry; when pressed, she leaves her seat to squeeze his hand and whisper two simple words into his ear.
"I understand."
--
It takes Alanna exactly six minutes to wonder what in the name of all the gods she is doing in Corus at Midwinter.
She catches George's eye across the room, her own filled with despair; his expression is mixed humour and pity. He drifts across the room to take her hand in his.
"Can I interest you in a walk, my fair lady?" he murmurs, every bit the courtier. "To our rooms?"
She snorts, every bit unlike the fair lady he had previously proclaimed her. "And stay there?"
There is a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "If my lady wishes."
--
George has lost seven agents in the field this year.
"This is not your fault," she says the first three times. The fourth time, she recounts a story of making a mistake in the field resulting in casualties; it is somewhat more meaningful than empty words, but does not help enough. The fifth and sixth times, she simply holds him in mutual silence for an immeasurable length of time.
The seventh time, she challenges him to a knife fight and loses on purpose. It is not a solution, and it will not last, but one day she will get there.
--
Alanna owns eight money pouches; three of them once belonged to George.
Attempting to pick George's pocket is arguably Alanna's favourite pastime, if only for the shock on his face when he realizes she has indeed succeeded. "Keep it," he always says with a resigned but undeniably proud smile, so she does.
"You've taught me well, you know," she teases upon the fourth time she is successful in separating husband from purse. He scowls.
"I knew you were going to do it," he replies. "I was just humouring you."
Abandoning all semblance of maturity, Alanna makes a face in response.
--
There are nine stars in the constellation known as 'The Cat'.
It is a moonlit evening in one of her few days home; she should by rights be enjoying herself, relaxing with her husband or even curled up in bed with a book. Instead she is perched on a stone bench in the garden, staring at the sky with an unyielding urge to cry.
She does not hear him approach behind her but feels his arm around her shoulders before she has time to react. "I'm all right," she says preemptively.
"No, you're not," he replies. "But you will be."
--
Ten years into their marriage, Alanna awakens next to a husband who swears in a Player's fashion that she has not aged a day.
"But that's the hazard of love," she complains later in the day to said husband, watching him devour his breakfast. "You convince each other that you're perfect and everyone else picks at your faults."
George laughs heartily. "Alanna, your perspective will never cease to amaze me." She has barely time to look indignant before he grabs her hand from across the table and kisses it. "That is not the hazard of love, lass. That's the yield."
Title: The Hazard of Love
Warnings: Fluff, otherwise none
Characters: George, Alanna
Summary: The fallout of before, the bittersweet of now, and the promise of after: Alanna and George in ten sets of exactly one hundred words.
The first time she's away from Pirate's Swoop on his birthday, she buys him an unreasonably large present and feels guilty for over a month.
One hour after her departure, Alanna realizes that no mass of daggers - however much George had coveted them at the armory - could make up for her absence. She composes a letter longer than she is tall, wishing she could send herself with it.
His reply is almost comically short. Nevertheless, Alanna thinks she can understand the weight behind every word. Never before, she muses, have four words meant quite so much.
I miss you too.
--
George eats two eggs for breakfast.
Alanna is surprisingly unbothered by the bigger changes to her life; if anything, the change of environment and pace make for quite an exciting adventure. It is the small things - tiny, insignificant things like accidentally putting sugar in his tea or asking the cook for two eggs, forgetting that George consumes two by himself - that convince her, more than anything else, that knighthood was the right choice for her.
Still, she thinks as George smiles across his single egg at her, the world has not fallen into Chaos. I must be doing something right.
--
The third time in three years she is sent home with an injury she could have prevented with more caution, Alanna sits up in her bed and wonders if George will get angry and, moreover, if it would not be completely justified.
There is indeed a flicker of exasperation in his hazel eyes; nevertheless, he appears at her side in three long strides and, without taking his eyes from hers, leans down to kiss her firmly.
"I'm so glad you're all right."
For the first time in her memory, Alanna is not ashamed to feel her eyes fill with tears.
--
It takes four hours for her to discover his ear collection.
"I didn't think you would just throw it away," she comments when he finds her staring at said collection, one eyebrow carefully arched. "But George, under our bed?"
He opens his mouth and closes it again; she continues staring skeptically. "Would you like me to move it?" he finally asks.
She grins, a grin every bit as wolfish as his own. "No." The eyebrow lowers to join its counterpart in a gentle frown. "Try not to add to it, though, if you please."
He matches her grin. "Of course."
--
Five days, Alanna discovers, can be synonymous for 'forever' when your husband is away dealing with an emergency and has left naught but a short note as explanation.
She is unsure whether to be irritated or relieved when he finally returns, looking exhausted but mostly unscathed. Worse, she is unable to voice any complaint without appearing thoroughly hypocritical. Faced with little to say, Alanna makes strong tea and avoids his eyes when he asks if she's sure she's not angry; when pressed, she leaves her seat to squeeze his hand and whisper two simple words into his ear.
"I understand."
--
It takes Alanna exactly six minutes to wonder what in the name of all the gods she is doing in Corus at Midwinter.
She catches George's eye across the room, her own filled with despair; his expression is mixed humour and pity. He drifts across the room to take her hand in his.
"Can I interest you in a walk, my fair lady?" he murmurs, every bit the courtier. "To our rooms?"
She snorts, every bit unlike the fair lady he had previously proclaimed her. "And stay there?"
There is a wicked twinkle in his eyes. "If my lady wishes."
--
George has lost seven agents in the field this year.
"This is not your fault," she says the first three times. The fourth time, she recounts a story of making a mistake in the field resulting in casualties; it is somewhat more meaningful than empty words, but does not help enough. The fifth and sixth times, she simply holds him in mutual silence for an immeasurable length of time.
The seventh time, she challenges him to a knife fight and loses on purpose. It is not a solution, and it will not last, but one day she will get there.
--
Alanna owns eight money pouches; three of them once belonged to George.
Attempting to pick George's pocket is arguably Alanna's favourite pastime, if only for the shock on his face when he realizes she has indeed succeeded. "Keep it," he always says with a resigned but undeniably proud smile, so she does.
"You've taught me well, you know," she teases upon the fourth time she is successful in separating husband from purse. He scowls.
"I knew you were going to do it," he replies. "I was just humouring you."
Abandoning all semblance of maturity, Alanna makes a face in response.
--
There are nine stars in the constellation known as 'The Cat'.
It is a moonlit evening in one of her few days home; she should by rights be enjoying herself, relaxing with her husband or even curled up in bed with a book. Instead she is perched on a stone bench in the garden, staring at the sky with an unyielding urge to cry.
She does not hear him approach behind her but feels his arm around her shoulders before she has time to react. "I'm all right," she says preemptively.
"No, you're not," he replies. "But you will be."
--
Ten years into their marriage, Alanna awakens next to a husband who swears in a Player's fashion that she has not aged a day.
"But that's the hazard of love," she complains later in the day to said husband, watching him devour his breakfast. "You convince each other that you're perfect and everyone else picks at your faults."
George laughs heartily. "Alanna, your perspective will never cease to amaze me." She has barely time to look indignant before he grabs her hand from across the table and kisses it. "That is not the hazard of love, lass. That's the yield."