A/N Hello…!

A new fic for me, just something that came to me. I'm sure the idea has been done before, but heck…I don't know. It just seemed to fit so perfectly in my head, that even if it had been done before I had to try it! ^_^ (Besides, my other story that's up here is a Convent story, so who am I to talk about originality?)

Anyway – if anyone reads My Other Fic (MoF -_^), I've just run into a little rough patch (Heavy chapter. Ugh, lots of emotional turmoil, angst and tearing Alanna to pieces. Mwahahaha), but I'll get it done fairly soon. But I wanted to squeeze this idea out first – so…yeah! Please tell me what you think of it! The more reviews I get the faster I'll update it.. So if you don't like it, don't review!

Disclaimer – Not mine. Yadda yadda. Though I do own the annoying butler-type-guy. Lucky.

Rating – Again annoyed with the ridiculous FF.net ratings. Mature PG13 for this. Still wanting a M15+ rating.

Dreaming of a Better Life – Salek

"Wake up you oaf!" Alanna roared, a good natured smirk dancing across her face. "If I'm forced to get up this early in the middle of winter, then you certainly are going to get up with me!"

"Huh?" came the confused mumble from her husband – well, she assumed it was. The covers were all over him, and she could only see a leg at the moment. "'Lanna? What are you-"

"Up, up, up!" she grabbed one of the corners of the sheet, and yanked it off the bed. George's body came into view now, his well muscled back now uncovered. He groaned and attempted to bury his face deeper into the pillows. She narrowed her eyes at his back; the insolence! "If you don't get up now, you're going to regret it, laddy-me-love." She warned.

"G'way." He mumbled, "S'cold, and I was 'aving a nice dream about a wife who didn't order me about as much."

"Oh that's it." She walked over to the window, pushing it open with a squeal of un-oiled hinges. A thick layer of snow sat on the sill just outside; while the Swoop didn't normally get particularly cold, this year appeared to have been somewhat different, snow had begun falling weeks ago – most unusual. At the moment, however, Alanna welcomed the frosty conditions. Scooping up a big handful of the cold and wet substance, she turned back to George. He hadn't moved, his back still presenting what Alanna saw as a perfect target. "Don't complain, now, honey. Just remember that you brought this on yourself."

"Too early t'be up." Alanna grinned maniacally. With a simple twist of her wrist, she dumped her handful of snow into the small of his back. His yell could have been heard in Corus, she imagined, as he threw himself out of their bed. Eyes wide in shock, he ran around the room, arms flailing about. She began to giggle, and he rounded on her. "That," he seethed, pointing a finger at his wife, "was uncalled for."

"Maybe." she grinned at him coyly, "But it was fun."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and her grin widened. She knew he wouldn't stay angry with her, if he even were now. He could never stay angry with her for long, especially not when she wore that particular expression. It appeared she was right, when a smirk appeared on his face. "Well then, maybe we'll have to see about punishing you."

"Oh?" she asked, innocently. "And what exactly would that entail?"

It was his turn to grin now, as he moved towards her. She always enjoyed seeing him like this; playful, the torchlight playing over his chest. She felt a warmth spread through her that was so opposed to the cold in the air it was almost frightening. Of course, George could always make her feel like this. "Oh, just a little encore of last night, per'aps?" he whispered to her as his arms circled her waist. "Keep the cold away and all that." He kissed her then, and she melted in his arms.

Mmm, Alanna thought happily as the two of them fell onto the bed, Perhaps I should always wake him like that…

***

Her happy mood didn't seem to last particularly long, however.

After the mornings…activities with George, she'd only had time to perform a scant handful of the exercises she forced herself to carry out every morning. She was a bit concerned about that; lately she'd often been unable to go through the entire sequence, her time being taken up by other things. Today was no exception, with a servant rushing out to meet her almost as soon as she had begun her warm up.

"M'Lady!" the man called. "M'Lady I have urgent news for you!"

She sighed. "Yes? What is it?"

Startled by her tone, the man didn't answer for a moment, before regaining his composure. "M'Lord seeks to inform you that young Lord Thom has been frightening the serving girls in the dining hall again. He requests your presence as soon as you are able, M'Lady."

Another heavy sigh escaped her, both at the uptight man and his news. In all likelihood, George had told the man to 'Go get Alanna and bring her here'; she'd never been comfortable with the stuffy formality that many of the servants here at the Swoop seemed to love. But, there was little she could do about it; best to leave it be. Thom, on the other hand, she could definitely do something about. He was still fairly young, just over eight summers, but he was already a handful. While he – thankfully – wasn't as adventurous as either of his parents, his Gift seemed to get him in just as much trouble. Of late, his 'antics' involved summoning what appeared to be ghosts to haunt the servants he didn't like. He always denied doing anything, and they'd been reluctant to knuckle down on him as of yet; his siblings had never responded well to strict rules, so they had assumed that it was best to leave Thom be, for the most part. But perhaps it was to be different. "Inform George that I'll be there as soon as I can." She told the servant, who – after stiffly bowing, scurried off.

She sneered at his back, before getting into her exercises. Focus…

***

Rubbing at an ache in her back, Alanna ventured back into her and George's room. The 'talk' with Thom had been…difficult. It was always hard to punish those you love, and the stringent rules she'd placed on Thom's activities were sure to cause both him and herself a lot of pain and angst in the future. She'd considered sending him off to the Palace early; to set him up as a Page earlier than he would have been required to leave at ten summers of age, but she didn't want him to think they were sending him away. It was strange, actually, that he had expressed a desire to go to Corus. She and George had both assumed that he would wish to hone his Gift at the City of the Gods; but Thom had instead stated that he wanted to follow in his mother's and brother's footsteps; to become a knight.

She was proud of that, actually, of his decision. It would have been easier for him to travel to the City of the Gods and become like his uncle; to simply use his natural ability in the Gift to coast through. But he showed real Trebond courage, she thought, to take the harder road. George had just called him 'an obstinate boy', though she knew he meant it as a great compliment; he'd married her, after all, one of the most obstinate people in the realm, so he must consider it a virtue.

Smiling, she flopped down on her bed. It had been a very long day so far, and it wasn't even midday yet! Maybe if she just shut her eyes for a moment…

"I 'ope you're not goin' t'fall asleep, lass." George's voice carried across the room. She tried to envision him in her mind; leaning up against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirk playing across his handsome face. She cracked an eye open, grinning at her almost perfectly accurate mental image. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing," she mumbled. "Just thinking."

He smiled, and moved over to the bed, sitting beside her. "I never would have imagined you could do such a thing." He whispered softly, "Oof! What was that for?" he asked, rubbing the spot where her fist had slammed into his midriff.

"You're too charming for your own good sometimes, Cooper." She told him, grinning as her husband burst into laughter.

"Aye?" he told her in between chuckles, "Never thought I'd 'ear you saying that, 'Lanna."

***

Dinner was an almost frightfully formal affair; The Baron and Baroness of Pirates Swoop being required in full regalia as they 'entertained a high and noble delegate from Carthak'. The forced laughter, the utterly boring anecdotes; Alanna couldn't remember being more bored in her entire life.

Well, she probably could if she put her mind to it, but her mind had apparently been melted by the man's incredibly dull, incredibly egocentric and most importantly, incredibly long tale about his adventures 'on the high seas', as he put it. Of course, it was actually about a River Cruiser, from what Alanna could tell, but she'd just nodded and politely smiled whenever the man looked like he wanted a response. She hated this aspect of a nobles duties, and she would have refused to take the man in…if only she was permitted. She grimaced as she remembered Jon's insistence on this issue; As my Champion you are afforded certain rights, she could remember him saying, but certain responsibilities must also be met. Ugh. If she'd have known being the King's Champion entailed entertaining foreign nobles more than actually fighting for the King, then she'd never have taken the role. Maybe she could have been the Commander of the King's Own. Raoul certainly seemed to enjoy that position…although it would have meant even longer periods away from her family. Maybe not then.

"What a night." She was exhausted, not to mention cold. She hoped George would be retiring to their chambers soon – she didn't like to fall asleep without him beside her, but she was just so tired. Maybe she should skip her exercises tomorrow morning; lie in late with George. Snuggling together under the covers. Her face burned at the thought, though she sadly realised that she'd been neglecting her exercises enough as it was. She had to stay in shape, and doing so required commitment, focus and drive. "Any self-respecting enemy of Tortall should attack only in summer, and in the mid-afternoon. Then we all get a lie in."

"Aye lass," George laughed from the doorway, "And I suppose that you all should pad your swords and fight one by one?"

"Mmm, sounds good to me." She smiled, before crooking a finger at him. "Come here, you."

"Why should I?" he asked, slyly.

She just patted the spot on the bed next to her. A wide grin spread over his face, and he almost leapt into bed. She supposed that she wasn't all that exhausted, on second thought…

***

Lying in bed, her husbands arms draped around her, she couldn't imagine a time when she felt more content, more at peace. Well, for the moment, anyway. She knew that tomorrow was going to be just as tiring as today was – the Carthaki Delegate was still here, after all, and she'd have to keep an eye on Thom. But for the moment, a few hours after she'd once again shared her love with her Noble Thief, she was happy.

Such sentiments are seemingly not, however, seen as 'appropriate' for The Chosen of the Gods. Fate revolved around Alanna, of course, and tonight was not to be an exception.

As she lay there, a small smile on her face, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Shifting quietly in their bed so as not to disturb George, she glanced out of the window. A red rune, three intercrossed and burning lines, seemed to be suspended in the air. She frowned in wonderment, before the rune seemed to disappear. For a moment, it seemed to have burned into her very mind, the red lines tingeing her sight even after it had apparently faded from the air, but the afterimage too disappeared after a moment. Confused, she looked around the room once more; nothing seemed to be out of place.

Another thing to examine in the morning, Alanna thought in dismay. At least nothing seems to have happened yet. Maybe I just imagined it?

Mentally shrugging, she closed her eyes, and had soon drifted off to sleep; her mind soothed by the reassuring presence of George's heartbeat reverberating in her ears.

***

Warm sunlight streamed across her face, and she scrunched up her nose as it burrowed its way into her mind. She wanted to sleep a little longer, just a little longer. Don't let the sun force you t-

Goddess! The sun?! How late was it? Why hadn't she been woken earlier?

She could feel George's arms around her, so he must still be sleeping too. She'd already slept in fairly late, it seemed, so what was the harm in snuggling with her love for a little while longer. A small patch of his stubble was rubbing against her exposed shoulder, which she found odd. George rarely went a day without shaving; he knew that she didn't like him with a beard. Maybe she'd have to force him into the barbers stool again. She smiled to herself, and tried to hug his arms tighter around herself.

"Mmm." he murmured from beside her head. His voice sounded…slightly odd, too. She frowned, and decided to open her eyes. Her lids cracked open, and at first all she could see was blinding light as sunlight poured in through a window in front of her face. A window where no window should be, she thought, confused. Blinking, hoping to block the bright light, she glanced around at the rest of the room.

In a word, it was different. Pale stone where there should be timber, wall friezes where there should be hangings, and most importantly of all – the Conte crest where there should be the heraldry of Pirate's Swoop. Just what was going on here?!

George shifted behind her, his arms coming away from her as he tuned onto his back. She opened her mouth to talk to him, before she took a closer look at the bedding they were in. This wasn't even their bed!

"George!" she whispered harshly, beginning to roll over to peer at her husband. "George! Wake up! You have to see wh-"

She stopped suddenly, eyes wide open in sheer – was it astonishment? Horror? At the least, it was a shock. Lying next to her, the man who had been holding her so intimately just moments before, was not her husband.

It was Jon.

"What the hell  is going on?"

He mumbled softly to himself, then rolled over again so his back was facing her. By the Gods! What was happening? Jon had to know, he had to know what had happened. Maybe he'd even done something to her! She poked him in the back, hoping that he would have an answer, would know something.

"Thayet? What are you doing?" he groaned softly, before stretching his arms out above his head. She got a good look at his physique then, not that she wanted to be looking, of course! Still, he was slightly more built than George was- This is not the time to be comparing your husband's body to your ex-lover's! she thought angrily to herself as her began to roll over. She put on her most outraged glare – if she could have put her hands on her hips while she was lying horizontally, she would have done so. She had to settle for a glare. When his eyes fell on her, they widened almost comically. "Great Mithros!"

"What the hell  is going on?" she repeated.

"Alanna?" he asked, dumbly. "Is that you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course it's me you great idiot! Now tell me what the heck happened!"

"How-?"

"I don't know how, you buffoon!" She grated her teeth. "I don't know why I'm in your bed half naked when I should be with George in our own bed at the Swoop! I hoped you might have some answers!"

He just stared at her for the moment, mouth wide open. "I-I don't know." He frowned, before looking around the room quickly. "Something looks a little different around here. Maybe- Wait. Where's Thayet?"

"I don't know!" she almost shouted, her exasperation getting the best of her. "Maybe she's outside! Hiding at this wonderful joke."

Jon nodded slowly, before he shot a look under the covers at himself. With a quick squeak, Alanna made sure all of her was well over on her own side of the bed. He looked at her for a moment, before shaking his head wistfully. "You'll need to look away while I, uh, get dressed." He told her, gesturing down at his body.

"Huh?" she asked, confused, before his words sunk in. She blushed like the sun, "Oh. Uh, sure." Shifting in the bed while making sure the covers still stayed clumped around her was a difficult task, but she managed to force herself to stare out of the window near her. As soon as she did so, a shift in weight from beside her told her that Jon had pushed out of bed. "So do you have any idea of what might have happened?" she asked as she heard rustling sounds from behind her.

"Not as such." Came the muffled reply.

She frowned, annoyed. "Why not?"

"Huh?!" he gasped, the rustling sounds stopping – he must have paused while dressing to get the proper incredulity into his voice. "You expect me to know what happened to you? What happened to Thayet?"

"Of course I do," she mumbled, suddenly unconvinced. "You are the King."

"So?"

"So you're supposed to know stuff." Oh very convincing.

He scoffed at that. "Sure, Alanna. Blame it all on my; you do that well."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" She turned around then, to give him the full blast of her glare, before she realised he probably wasn't finished changing. Luckily enough for her – though a tiny part of her questioned that – he seemed to have quickly thrown on a shirt and tunic, so he was 'decent', as they would have said all those years ago.

He shook his head, "Never mind." He turned then, and noticed that she was looking at him. He frowned at her, "Were you looking all that time?"

"What?" her mouth fell open, "No! Of course not! I'm a happily married woman, Jon!" He mumbled something under his breath that she couldn't hear – "Excuse me? And what was that?"

He raised his hands. "Nothing, nothing."

She glared at him. "Right. Well, you go check outside, see if anything gives us a clue as to what's happening. And, uh…" she frowned. "I'm probably going to need some clothes."

Jon smiled softly, which to be honest, made her slightly uncomfortable. Was he-? No. He couldn't be. "You can wear some of Thayet's things, if you want."

She grimaced. "All dresses, right?"

Nodding slightly, he made his way over to one of the dressers. He stopped in front of it. "This is kind of odd."

"What?"

"I don't remember Thayet having something like this in here." He motioned to the dresser, before shrugging slightly. "No, wait – I remember she had some of her specially made breeches in here. They were in one of her wardrobes." He grinned, "Of course, they'll probably look like the clothes of a Jester on you, but-"

She ground her teeth. "Just find me some clothes, Jon, or I'll stab you."

"With a pitch like that, it's surprising how little admirer's you have." He said softly, obviously amused with himself. She glared daggers at his back, wishing that she had both clothes and a knife. She was so focused on imagining gruesome, horrible tortures on the man in front of her that she didn't at first notice his sudden similarity to a statue.

"What's the matter?" she asked, worriedly.

"Just, all this." He muttered, indicating the dresser. "I don't recognise any of these."

"Any of what?"

"Any of these clothes. They're not anything Thayet's worn."

"What do you mean?" she asked, very worried now. She wrapped the blanket about her waist, hoping that the shirt of George's she wore over her chest wouldn't ride up, and trudged over to Jon's side. He was pawing through a bunch of what she considered to be very fashionable, not to mention comfortable, breeches and shirts. There was another drawer full of underthings, which again she considered to be at the height of style mixed with practicality. "These aren't her's?"

Startled, Jon looked at her with wide eyes. "Uhh," he stuttered, though she couldn't really understand why, before he shook his head. "No. They're not."

"Then whose are t-" she stopped, a thought suddenly striking her. Herself in Jon's bed, a room full of somewhat unfamiliar furniture, dressers full of clothes that were not Thayet's, and what she considered to be fashionable…

A sudden knock sent them both jumping. "Quick!" Jon hissed, "We've got to hide you! It's bad enough Thayet's gone, we don't need a servant spreading a rumour about the King and a half naked woman!"

She almost shouted at him at the tone he was taking, before she realised that not only was he right, but that she'd have to hurry. She tried to quickly waddle over to the bed, to hide under it or something, but it was hard work moving fast in a skirt-of-sheet.

In fact, she needn't have bothered, as the door opened without Jon responding to the knock. Who would do such a thing?

"Morning Jon!" Gary stood in the doorway, pulling the door shut behind him as he entered. Oh Goddess! Just what she needed. It would have been bad enough if it was just another servant, but someone who actually knew of the history between Jon and herself? Things just couldn't get more complicated, could they! Gary turned to her then, her expecting his mouth to drop open in shock, but he just smiled at her. "Morning Alanna. How are you both?"

Alanna was still somewhat flabbergasted, but luckily Jon was at the ready. "We're both good, Gary." He glanced over at her then, quirking an eyebrow, before adding hesitatingly. "Uhm, yourself?"

"Fine, fine." Gary replied, "I see I'm a little, uh, early today." He said, giving a sharp nod towards Alanna. A smile spread across his face, "You two celebrating again?"

She frowned, mouthing 'Celebrating?' silently to Jon, who shrugged. Gary too frowned slightly, but Jon managed to fob him off with questions that she assumed were fairly routine. She wasn't paying much attention, her attention more focused on just what had happened to her. She had gone to sleep at the Swoop, happily entwined with George. Only to awaken here in Corus. Happily entwined with Jon, her mind offered, though she didn't like the imagery that thought provoked. But- Something was tickling her mind, something she had seen last night. She couldn't remember for now- maybe she'd ask Jon. At least he seemed to be 'normal' as well – that was a small miracle at least. She didn't think she would have enjoyed being so confused alone.

She was brought back to reality as Jon coughed heavily. "Uhh, Gary." He asked his Prime Minister (She had been paying enough attention to realise that at least that remained the same). "Let me ask you a question." He grimaced, as if awaiting a blow, something she came to understand as she heard his next words. "Do you know who Thayet is?"

Gary frowned. "Thayet? Wasn't she one of those Yamani nobles or something?"

"Perhaps from Sarain?" Jon proffered, face falling.

"Oh yeah! That's it!" Gary smiled, "You've got a better memory than me at those kinds of things. Never forget a pretty face, eh?" he nudged Jon with his elbow, before all the blood drained from his face. He turned to her, a hesitant smile dancing at his lips – "Ah, no offence, Alanna."

"Why would I take offence at that?" she asked him, confused.

He was obviously confused as well now, frown furrowing his brow. "Well, uhm, because…" he trailed off, arms gesticulating wildly. "Y'know."

"No, I don't, Gary." She crossed her arms. "Tell me." Wincing internally at the way she sounded, Alanna knew it would be best to get as much information as she could as soon as she could.

"Well, you're not exactly the most, uhh…" he winced again as if expecting physical retribution for his next words, "Open minded of wives, Alanna. I mean, Raoul was telling me that you almost challenged that Lady Yves to a duel. That one which was flirting with Jon. Remember?" Her mouth dropped open in shock. She was married to Jon?! Gary took her shocked look as something completely different, throwing up his hands in a sign of surrender "But not like you do it all the time, of course. I mean, I'm sure Yves deserved that, well, whatever you did to her. Not that you did anything to her!" he babbled.

She glared at him, still trying to process this piece of information.

"I think I'll, uh, be going now. If it's alright with you two." Gary didn't even wait for a response, scuttling out of the door before either of them could talk. She looked at the door for a moment, before Jon walked in front of her, pushing it shut. She turned away from him then, staring once more out of the window. She could sense him behind her, however, him standing fairly close behind her.

"So…" he began, slowly. "We're married."

"Looks like."

"Explains a few things."

She nodded, softly. "Guess it does."

"Alanna." He sighed, "Don't be like this."

"Like what!?" she cried, all her frustration, fear and anger finally pouring out of her. "Like I'm confused? Like I'm worried about what happened to George and my children?" her eyes began to water, and she dropped her head. "Like I'm not sure what in the hell is going on here with you, a-and me and-"

She cut off as Jon put his arms around her, softly shushing her. "It'll be alright, it'll be alright."

"I don't know what's happening, what's happened. And it feels- I just feel so helpless." She whispered after a moment. "I'm scared, Jon." She added, face buried in his shoulder.

"I know. I am too." He replied with words that seemed eerily familiar. "At least we can be scared together."

She looked up at him, frowning. She'd just remembered where she'd hear those words before- "What?"

"We can get through this." He clarified, stroking her back soothingly, "We just have to stick together. We just have to find out what happened to us, that's all."