AN: I'd intended for the next one to be about Kel, but Alanna pushed her way to the head of the line. Here she is. Enjoy!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
What If. . .
Alanna
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alanna smoothed her green satin skirts over her lap as she sank gracefully into her seat. Maids had brushed her long red hair until it fell past her shoulders in soft waves. Clusters of jewels glistened from her throat and wrists, and a light pressure on her head was evidence of a tiara.

Beside her in the Royal Tent was her husband, King Roger II. He smiled at her, a perfect white smile on a perfect, handsome face. Roger turned his face out to the scene before them.

Alanna followed his gaze beyond the colorful canopy. Crowds of commoners surrounded a tall gallows. Children and adults alike munched on legs of turkeys or roasted corn as they waited for the spectacle to begin.

Alanna watched as a donkey pulled a cart into the square. A man was standing in the cart, hands and feet bound, and a canvas sack over his head. Something about the man's stature was familiar.

The Lord Provost led him away from the cart and up onto the gallows. The sack was removed, and the crowds cheered. Alanna's stomach jumped to her throat. George Cooper stood before her, battered as if he'd been beaten. There was something else Alanna noted in his posture. George was a broken man.

Slowly, as if in a daze, she turned her attention to the Provost's words. He was reading off a list of charges.

"Conspiring against His Majesty Roger II. Depravity, Murder. Thievery, drunkenness, and impersonating a representative of the Royal Court. For these crimes and your many others, you have been sentenced to be hung by the neck until dead. So mote it be."

The hangman tightened the noose around George's neck. The thief's eyes searched the crowd. Alanna watched him say goodbye to his weeping mother. Then his hazel eyes met hers.

His gaze burned her. As a drum roll began, Alanna moved her eyes down to her heavy wedding band. The drums stopped and the crowd cheered again. Roger chucked from her side. She battled with herself, and won, finally drawing the courage to look up. George's feet were dancing the dead-man's jig. Alanna stood and screamed.

…. . . . .

George woke from his sleep to his thrashing wife. She was mumbling as she moved.

"No. . . Roger. . . no. . ." George steadied her, afraid that she's hurt their baby. Gently, he woke her. For a moment, she looked confused, but then Alanna put her arms around his neck.

"What is it, Lass?" George whispered. Alanna sighed.

"Just a silly dream," she said softly. "It only upset me because the baby has me feeling giddy."

'Well what happened?" he pressed, pulling her closer. Alanna rolled carefully onto her side, snuggling into his arms.

"Roger had you hung," she said. "I told you it was silly. Roger's dead. End of story."

"Well, from now on, I order you to have pleasant dreams about nice, soft, fluffy things," he said, rubbing her belly.

"Yes, your majesty," she whispered drowsily. George held his Lioness until she drifted off to sleep. The next time she woke from a nightmare, she crossly told her husband that a big fluffy bear was chasing her. George couldn't help but laugh.