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From: owner-arfic-l-digest@lists.xmission.com (arfic-l-digest) To: arfic-l-digest@lists.xmission.com Subject: arfic-l-digest V1 #26 Reply-To: arfic-l-digest Sender: owner-arfic-l-digest@lists.xmission.com Errors-To: owner-arfic-l-digest@lists.xmission.com Precedence: bulk arfic-l-digest Sunday, April 22 2001 Volume 01 : Number 026 ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 18 Apr 2001 22:09:54 -0400 From: "Ibonek 17" <ibonek17@hotmail.com> Subject: (arfic-l) "Silently I Watch" (1/1) by Kristina A. Schwartz--slash! Title: Silently I Watch (1/1) Author: Kristina A. Schwartz Email address: Ibonek17@hotmail.com TV Series: Tomorrow People (New Series) Distribution statement: Alternate Realities and TPFICT, anyone else, please ask! Rating: PG-13 Summary: The musings of a Tomorrow Person in love (slash) Disclaimer: The characters here do not belong to me. The Tomorrow People are property of Roger Damon Price, Thames/Tetra Television, ITV and Nickelodeon. All are used here without permission, but no copyright infringement is intended. Silently I Watch By Kristina A. Schwartz I canÆt stop thinking about him, thoughts of him run through my mind day and night. IÆve known him for four years now and IÆm just currently acknowledging my love for him. We started out as mere acquaintances, he barely paying attention to me because I was four years younger. Then Kevin left and we had only each other. IÆm not even sure when I realized I loved Adam Newman. It didnÆt start out as a love-at-first-sight thing, more of a gradual attraction. I admired him as a friend, a close friend, one I could trade banter with, joke around with and generally feel comfortable around. We compliment each other--his seriousness balanced by my wackiness and sarcasm. I was a little worried when Ami broke out, afraid she and Adam would be drawn into a romance. My fears dissipated as they became friends. Of course, I havenÆt told Adam my feelings. I steal admiring glances when I think heÆs not looking. Adam is one of the most handsome guys IÆve ever seen--lush brown eyes that you can drown in. When he looks at you, itÆs like heÆs piercing your soul. His eyes are. . .mesmerizing. The only time IÆve seen him truly hurt emotionally was during the Lucy Allen fiasco. He doesnÆt like to talk about her much, cow that she is. I mean, who could walk away from sweet, kind, endearing, sexy Adam for a stupid Journalism student? Lucy didnÆt deserve him and it was proven even more by how hard he fell for her. The look on his face when she broke up with him (Over the phone! What a coward, couldnÆt even tell the man to his face!) was enough to make me want to pull him into a hug, pat him on the head and say everythingÆs gonna be all right. ThatÆs one of the things I love best about Adam. One look at his sad eyes, and he makes the protective instinct come out in you. When he sleeps, he looks so young and vulnerable, almost ethereal. I nearly lost him when we confronted Rameses AkÆhara. When he didnÆt return from Sam ReesÆ place and we couldnÆt sense him, I felt a gut-wrenching fear. Could I have gone on with my Adam? I highly doubt it. HeÆs my steady rock, the one thing that keeps me sane. Luckily everything turned out okay in the end. Well, almost everything. He doesnÆt talk much about his entrapment by Rameses or even where he was or what prevented us from sensing him without the aid of the ship. His silence worries me. I suspect Ami knows. SheÆs caught me staring a few times. IÆm afraid to tell Adam though, for obvious reasons. HeÆs hard to read, shields always in place. Man of mystery and intrigue, IÆd follow him to the ends of the earth. But how to tell him that? I canÆt just say ôAdam, I love youö, not without knowing something in return. IÆve got to work up enough courage to say the words soon or IÆll go insane. I mean, itÆs only three little words (four, if I say his name), how hard can it be? I wonder if he realizes IÆm watching him. When he comes over to play video games or watch a movie, I spend half of the time marveling at his beauty. Sometimes I wish heÆd let down his shields so IÆd know what heÆs thinking. God, what IÆd give to just kiss him. ThatÆs all. Just feel his lips pressed against mine, his hands running through my hair. That would be a dream come true. I snap out of my thoughts as Adam passes me the video game controller. ôHere Megabyte, your turn.ö he said in his delicious Australian accent. ôUm, okay.ö I say, taking the controller as I try to focus my thoughts on the video game and not on the presence of my best friend sitting next to me. _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com - - To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 19 Apr 2001 00:42:48 -0400 (EDT) From: Ailie McFarland <aixla@juno.com> Subject: (arfic-l) Love's Labor Lost 6/? Title: Love's Labor Lost Author: Ailie McFarland E-Mail: aixla@juno.com Rating: pg-13 Fandom: BtVS Spoilers: New Moon Rising (alternate ending) Archive: http://www.geocities.com/aixla/fanfic.html Distribution: Oh! If it helps at all, I'm gonna say yes. Disclaimer: Oz and Willow do not belong to me. If they did, WAH and NMR wou= ldn't exist, so I wouldn't have to keep writing these alternate endings! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 6: With Bated Breath ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "She's so tiny," Buffy whispered, as if her words alone could blow the chil= d away. Xander leaned closer to the incubator. "I know." Willow and Oz's child. Unb= elievable. The child was only a smidge over 9 inches from the top of her he= ad to the tips of her toes, weighing two pounds, looking all the smaller su= rrounded by tubes, wires, and machinery that dwarfed her frail body. Taped = to the end of the plastic cradle was a sign which read "Rosenberg." "So," Buffy searched for something, anything to say. "Do you know what you'= ll name her?" Willow shook her head. "If it was a boy ... well ... I had been thinking ab= out Alexander Daniel." This caught both boys attention, neither knowing exa= ctly what to say to that unexpected compliment. "But a girl ... I hadn't re= ally thought much about it. Well, that's not true. I just couldn't find a n= ame I liked. And one that meant something to me." Oz stood by Willow's side, the same place he had been ever since her labor = had begun. He was slightly shocked that she would still consider naming the= baby after him, considering everything that had happened. Xander he could = understand, but Giles he would have expected, but him? What did that say ab= out the place he held in her heart? Xander, looking for a way to break the tension, spoke next. "Well, I might = suggest that Alexandra would make a good name for a girl." "I dunno if I want to name her now, anyway," Willow sighed softly. "Maybe i= t'd best if it just say =91Rosenberg Child' on her tombstone." "Willow," Giles stood across the incubator from the girl. "I know you may f= eel that way now, but regardless of whether or not ... of what happens, you= will look back on this moment and feel differently. That bonding, the act = of naming your child, it is extremely important." "I guess. I just can't think about that right now." Willow tried to shake h= erself from her dark thoughts. After all, she had been the one to encourage= everyone to think positively. "So, I'm assuming you didn't lug all those b= ooks up here for your health. Any luck in the werewolf baby department?" Xander looked shocked. "Werewolf babies? Why would you think ... well no. W= e didn't find anything. No." "But one shouldn't jump to conclusions based on that fact alone," Giles add= ed quickly. "We shall continue on, see what we can find before nightfall." Oz looked to the window. The sky was beginning to grow dimmer. Even though = the phases of the moon no longer brought out the wolf within him, he could = still feel the change from night today, especially when that night brought = with it the wolf moon. Night would be on them soon, and with it the greater= possibility that he would lose his first born child. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ "I guess we'll know soon." "Guess so." Oz squeezed Willow's hand in his own. Giles and the others kept= their own vigil in the waiting room, leaving the two new parents alone wit= h their child.=20 "Maybe," Willow blinked back tears. "Maybe Giles was right. We should name = her, before the moon rises. Just in case." Oz tested the wind. "Doesn't give us much time." He pondered the situation = for a moment. "Aijou." "What?" "Aijou. It's Japanese," he explained. "I picked up a little while I was tra= veling. It means =91beloved daughter.'" "Aijou." Willow sounded it out, letting it roll off her tongue. "Aijou Rose= nberg. Not a traditional name, but a nice one. A meaningful one. I think sh= e'd like it." Oz stiffened slightly, feeling the change in the air. "It's coming. The moo= n." "Oh. Oh god. Oh no." Willow began to sob openly now, leaning her head again= st the incubator. "Aijou, stay with us. Please, try! Please?" Oz was by her side in an instant. He meant to just stand with her, to be cl= ose, maybe hold her hand. Instead, he found Willow in his arms, her tears s= oaking through his shirt and dampening his skin. Did he pull her there or d= id she come to him? It didn't matter. None of it mattered. All that mattere= d was the tiny life encased in a plastic bubble, the life they created. Willow's voice was muffled as she pressed her face into his chest. "I can't= . I can't. Just ... tell me when it's over." A chill ran up Oz's spine, tiny fingers of ice, fire spreading through his = limbs to all of his extremities. The moon had risen. Dreading what he might= find, Oz turned to watch what may well have been his child's final moments= . "Willow." "Is it over?" "Take a look." Willow looked up and gasped. Her child looked no different than it had when= she looked away. "She didn't ... she didn't change!" Oz smiled in return. "Nope." He tightened his grip around Willow's waist, o= vercome with the joy of life and the feeling of just being close to her.=20 And just as neither of them remembered how it was the embrace began, neithe= r could recall how it came to be that their lips met in a kiss. ~Ailie McFarland~ http://www.geocities.com/aixla/buffy.html WILLOW: Well, I like you. You're nice and you're funny. And you don't smoke. Yeah, okay, werewolf, but that's not all the time. I mean, three days out of the month I'm not much fun to be around either. OZ: You are quite the human. WILLOW: So I'd still, if you'd still. OZ: I'd still. I'd *very* still. OZ: Would it help you if I panic? WILLOW: Yes, it'd be swell. Panic is a thing people can share in times of crisis, and everything's really scary now, you know, and I don't know what's going to happen and there is all sorts of things you're supposed to get to do after high school and I was really looking forward to doing them and now we're probably just going to die and I'd like to feel you maybe you would ... What are you doing? OZ: Panicing. WILLOW: Oz...don't you love me? OZ: My whole life, I've never loved anything else. - - To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Thu, 19 Apr 2001 22:06:59 -0400 (EDT) From: Ailie McFarland <aixla@juno.com> Subject: (arfic-l) Love's Labor Lost 7/? Title: Love's Labor Lost 7/? Author: Ailie McFarland E-Mail: aixla@juno.com Rating: pg-13 Fandom: BtVS Spoilers: New Moon Rising (alternate ending) Archive: http://www.geocities.com/aixla/fanfic.html Distribution: Oh! If it helps at all, I'm gonna say yes. Disclaimer: Oz and Willow do not belong to me. If they did, WAH and NMR wou= ldn't exist, so I wouldn't have to keep writing these alternate endings! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Chapter 7: Decisions ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Almost as soon as their lips met, both pulled away. =93Oz, what ...=94 But before they had a chance to talk any further, Buffy stuck her head into= the room. =93I=92m sorry. We couldn=92t wait. How is she?=94 =93It=92s okay,=94 Willow hoped that the rapid beating of her heart wasn=92= t evident in her voice. =93She didn=92t change.=94 =93Oh my God, really?=94 Buffy smiled widely, then turned and called over h= er shoulder. =93Guys! C=92mere! She didn=92t change!=94 Soon the entire gang was assembled around the child, laughing and exchangin= g hugs. No one noticed that for the first time that day, Oz was standing as= far from Willow as possible. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ =93I can=92t remember the last time we were all up this late,=94 Buffy yawn= ed, stretching her arms over her head. Xander lifted his hand from his chin. =93I do. Mayor. Ascension. Lots of ex= plosives.=94 =93Oh yeah.=94 The five friends were sitting in the waiting area directly o= utside of the neo-natal intensive care. The large leather chairs were quite= comfortable for a hospital; a little too comfortable if you didn=92t want = to find yourself falling asleep in them. =93I=92m exhausted. I guess being in labor all day=92ll do that to you,=94 = Willow added. =93But I just can=92t imagine going to sleep now. I want to b= e here, in case anything happens.=94 Giles nodded. =93Of course you do. Perfectly understandable. But we all are= a little tired ... perhaps Oz and I could go get some coffee for everyone?= =94 Oz looked up, about to say that he didn=92t need any coffee, and didn=92t f= eel like going anywhere anyway. But something in Giles=92 eyes told him thi= s wasn=92t really about coffee. =93Sure. No problem.=94 =93Oh, bring me an extra large!=94 Willow called as they walked down the ha= ll. =93I haven=92t had any caffeine in six months!=94 As soon as they were out of sight, Xander leaned over. =93Will, is there so= mething wrong?=94 Willow looked at her friend as if he had antlers growing out his head. =93W= ell, Aijou still isn=92t in the clear you know. All the doctor said was tha= t if she survived the night that was a good sign.=94 =93That=92s not what I meant.=94 =93Is it that obvious?=94 Willow was concerned. =93Willow,=94 Buffy said softly. =93Oz wouldn=92t even let go of your hand = until a few hours ago. Now he=92s barely even looking at you.=94 Willow sighed. =93See, this is why I didn=92t want to tell him about the ba= by. It complicates things. Before it was just me he had to decide about, an= d for me it was between him and Tara. With Aijou thrown in the middle, it makes it ... hard.=94 =93But that=92s the way it is. So what happened?=94 Buffy leaned closer, so= that Willow wouldn=92t feel like she was telling the intimate details of h= er life to the entire nursing staff. =93He ... we ... kissed.=94 Willow began to ramble. =93We weren=92t suppose= d to. We didn=92t mean to. It just happened. And now I=92m all confused aga= in.=94 =93You=92re not the only one.=94 Xander looked puzzled. =93What=92s to be c= onfused about? Oz is back. That=92s a good, right? And what=92s this about = choosing between Tara and ... oh. Oh!=94 Willow smiled sheepishly. =93I=92m sorry I didn=92t tell you. It was just .= .. I didn=92t even know what it meant.=94 =93Okay. Okay. My best friend since I was two was both pregnant and possibl= y a lesbian and I didn=92t know.=94 Xander frowned as he attempted to proce= ss the information. =93Okay, I can deal with that. No more secrets though, okay?=94 =93Deal. No secrets. Bad for the complexion,=94 the new mother agreed. =93B= ut that still leaves the bigger problem. What do I do about Oz?=94 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ =93I take it you didn=92t just want coffee.=94 =93Hhm?=94 Giles had been deep in thought, considering exactly how to broac= h this delicate subject with the boy. =93How did you know?=94 Oz shrugged. =93I watch people. It=92s a gift.=94 =93Well,=94 Giles cleared his throat. =93You must know that in a way I feel= like a parental figure to you all, to Willow in particular. And since her = father is not here, there are some questions I feel I need to ask about you= r intentions towards the girl.=94 =93Oh.=94 Silence descended, thick and almost impenetrable.=20 Eventually Giles continued. =93In the course of my research tonight I disco= vered something interesting. It seems that the reason your transformations = are now beyond your control is because you broke the natural order.=94 =93Natural order?=94 Oz asked incredulously. =93There=92s a natural order t= o being a werewolf?=94 =93Well, yes.=94 The watcher pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nos= e before going on. =93The lunar cycle is supposed to control the transition= between human and wolf form. Now that control has been broken, and your wi= ll is not yet strong enough to finish the job you began.=94 =93So if I gave up the chanting, the charms ...=94 =93You would be back at the mercy of the moon,=94 Giles finished. =93But th= e uncontrollable changes would stop.=94 Oz frowned, not quite sure how he should be feeling. =93I know it would be a lot to give up, but you have a lot to gain. And as = a father, you also have new responsibilities.=94 Giles laid a hand on the s= horter boy=92s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. =93But the decision, ul= timately lies with you.=94 =93I wish it were that simple,=94 Oz=92s gaze fell to the floor. =93But it = also lies with Willow.=94 ~Ailie McFarland~ http://www.geocities.com/aixla/buffy.html WILLOW: Well, I like you. You're nice and you're funny. And you don't smoke. Yeah, okay, werewolf, but that's not all the time. I mean, three days out of the month I'm not much fun to be around either. OZ: You are quite the human. WILLOW: So I'd still, if you'd still. OZ: I'd still. I'd *very* still. OZ: Would it help you if I panic? WILLOW: Yes, it'd be swell. Panic is a thing people can share in times of crisis, and everything's really scary now, you know, and I don't know what's going to happen and there is all sorts of things you're supposed to get to do after high school and I was really looking forward to doing them and now we're probably just going to die and I'd like to feel you maybe you would ... What are you doing? OZ: Panicing. WILLOW: Oz...don't you love me? OZ: My whole life, I've never loved anything else. - - To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2001 16:07:27 EDT From: SharLee224@aol.com Subject: Re: (arfic-l) "Silently I Watch" (1/1) by Kristina A. Schwartz--slash! - --part1_55.14679a37.2811f0ff_boundary Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit well, an unusual pairing. i have to say, i've never heard of this one. pretty good, although without watching the show i doubt i can attest to the accuracy. extra points for the shock value. - --part1_55.14679a37.2811f0ff_boundary Content-Type: text/html; charset="US-ASCII" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit <HTML>well, an unusual pairing. i have to say, i've never heard of this one. pretty good, although without watching the show i doubt i can attest to the accuracy. extra points for the shock value.</HTML> - --part1_55.14679a37.2811f0ff_boundary-- - - To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2001 21:17:59 -0400 From: "Ibonek 17" <ibonek17@hotmail.com> Subject: Re: (arfic-l) "Silently I Watch" (1/1) by Kristina A. Schwartz--slash! <html><DIV> Trust me, if you watched the show, you'd see it. ^_^ (or maybe it's just me and Kristin <shrugs>) Anyway, there's a second story that goes with this. I'll post it later (after I see how many responses I get to Silently I Watch). I'm planning ot write a whole series of them, even if I only share them with Kristin (who is as much a TP fan as me. ^_^) Oh, and there have been a couple others, written by Renay Walker and Michelle on the Alternate Realities web site. Kristina </DIV> <hr>Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at <a href="http://explorer.msn.com">http://explorer.msn.com</a> </html> - - To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Sat, 21 Apr 2001 19:34:18 -0700 (PDT) From: Adam N Megabyte <adam_n_megabyte@yahoo.com> Subject: Re: (arfic-l) "Silently I Watch" (1/1) by Kristina A. Schwartz--slash! Great story! And with my fave pairing in all of fandom! :) Can't wait to read some more! :) Chad __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Yahoo! Auctions - buy the things you want at great prices http://auctions.yahoo.com/ - - To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 14:42:51 -0400 From: "Michele R Bumbarger" <mbumbarger@neo.rr.com> Subject: (arfic-l) Worlds Away (Part 26/36) Title: Worlds Away (Part 26) Author: M. Bumbarger Email: worldsaway2001@yahoo.com Fandom: New Series Tomorrow People Rating: PG-13/TV-14 Summary: The Tomorrow People are swept away to a different world, where they must take up the lives of their alter-egos and try to find their way home . . . which won't be easy. Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People (Adam Newman, Ami Jackson, Megabyte Damon, and Jade Weston) are the property of Roger Damon Price, Thames Television, ITV, Tetra Television and Nickelodeon. They are used here without permission, but not for profit. The lands, countries, customs, deities, and original characters are mine and mine only, springing from the depths of my imagination and should not be used anywhere else without my permission. Please do not repost this to any list or archive it anywhere else without my express permission. Previous parts at http://www.alternate-realities.net/worldsaway ********** Chapter Twenty-Six "I swear, by Damiaren's orb, I do not understand what all the sourness is about," Damiar Roleran tucked Ami's arm deep within the crook of her own arm, patting the girl's hand. "There is neither anything wrong with this land or this weather. But, I suppose, people never change. Given enough idle time and boredom, even the best will find something to complain about." Ami couldn't help but smile as she walked through the Keep's gardens with her grandmother. The old woman was a delight to spend time with, a startling and welcome change and contrast to the painfully long breakfasts and suppers that were spent under her mother's constant eye. Her only escape came when she was permitted to join 'Lady Jadina' on her daily rounds of the Keep and its grounds; and the Damia Reina so disapproved of that amusement that those moments were few and far between. Even if she discounted and disagreed with Damiar Roleran's assessment of the weather, she was glad for company that was neither her mother nor Nynie and Sephrine. The latter simply drove her to insanity by not allowing her the breathing space she so badly craved, and the former simply never stopped reminding her of how easily she could fall into her mother, and her sovereign's, disapproval. Although, she was never free of her ladies-in-waiting completely, even now, they followed along behind Ami and her grandmother, falling into step with her grandmother's own attendants and ready to run and scurry to Ami's aid whenever she might need it. "I think that the weather is rather cool, Grandmother," Ami responded when she realized the old woman awaited a response of some sort. "I wear my cloak about constantly, even indoors." The squeeze on her hand was accompanied by a chuckle. "And that is precisely what I mean, Amideira. You too are possessed with too much idle time and boredom enough to allow you to find something to complain about. Granted the sun does not shine here as brightly, but also the ground does not bake beneath our feet, now does it?" "No," Ami admitted, "it does not." "A matter of perspective, sweet child. You can find all of the bad in a situation, or you may root out the good of it. It all depends on how you wish to spend your days. Myself, I am far too old to waste the few good years I have remaining trying to find the words to describe all the things that are wrong with any given situation. I prefer to simply find whatever pleasure I can in what the gods set before me. "Eris wished this land cool and green, while he wished Albarasque warm and gold, and I think that we can find it in ourselves to appreciate both, don't you?" "I do appreciate it," Ami took a moment to look around the garden, again admiring the rainbow of flowers, both wild and cultivated, that gave the place a serene and tranquil beauty, "I've already commented on how pretty the land is. I just think that it is . . . cool." "And so, the gods provide us with the materials and the means to create cloaks and heavy dresses," Damiar Roleran replied instantly, "as well as confining shoes of hard leather that do not allow the feet to touch the bare ground." "But," her grandmother came to a halt, turning and touching her fingers to Ami's cheek through the thick layers of the shoufa, "I do think that whatever the weather, or the situation, my Amideira will adapt. She only needs to remember how to see the light in addition to the shadows." Ami shifted uncomfortably, catching the hidden and unspoken meaning in the old woman's words. They were not speaking of her adapting to the weather, but rather, they spoke of her adapting to a new life her in Stiborn, the life as the wife of the High Prince -- Adam! -- and heir to the Lion Throne. Amideira had been reared and raised for this, but for Ami it was all new and uncharted territory. She was simply infinitely grateful once again to whatever power of fate had allowed her to have her friends close by; whatever power had chosen Adam as her future groom - a fact of which she had initially considered an odd joke. However, as the day of the wedding drew nearer, she grew more relieved that it was Adam. Adam was her friend, he was her rock and if Megabyte and Jade could muddle through as man and wife, she and Adam certainly should be able to pull it off. Ever since her impromptu visit to the High Prince, she felt more confident in that and was a bit more accepting of her fate. Yet even finding comfort in the knowledge that it was Adam and not some strange man whom would be put off by his foreign bride, it still was a bit to settle her mind around. She was barely nineteen, and even though by this world's standards that meant she was fast encroaching on old maid territory, by earth standards she was still in her prime. On earth, she would be enjoying her youth, she would be taking her time to learn about herself and figure out what she wanted out of life and a husband. But, this was not earth; here, her path had been chosen and she was left simply with learning how to walk it gracefully. "I know that, Grandmother." "Yes, sweet child, you know it," Damiar Roleran peered at her closely, and Ami was hit with the feeling that the woman's dark eyes were piercing the shoufa and staring right into Ami, "but do you accept it? "It is never easy being a bride. Harder for you, I think, than for your mother or even I." The words were stated with a thoughtful pause, the old woman looking away as she said them. She absently patted Ami's hand where it still rested in the crook of her arm, "Always, you have been so outspoken and yet you remain mostly silent in this. Come, Amideira, speak clearly. What are your feelings on this?" Her feelings were that she wanted to go home. She didn't want to be the Damiar Princess Amideira any longer. Unfortunately, those were not the feelings that she could share with her grandmother. Ami swallowed and spoke softly, "I accept it. It's my duty." "Oh, yes, your duty. You are saying what you think I want to hear, child," Damiar Roleran made a note of disgust and pulled Ami to a halt again. She turned and settled onto the stone bench she had stopped in front of, her movements far more precise and stronger than one would have expected for a woman of her years, and patted the space beside her. "Do not preach back at me what has been preached to you. Tell me your thoughts, Ami. Your feelings." "Do they matter? I have to do this no matter what. I can't change my mind or back out or go back to Albarasque --" "Do they matter?" Damiar Roleran snorted, "Of course your feelings matter. Just because you have to do something doesn't mean that you don't have feelings about it. I *have* to have my ankles rubbed with lysis oil every morning because I am a feeble old woman. Do I accept this? Yes. Do I have feelings about it? Most certainly. And mostly I feel that it is a cruel joke that inside I am still as young as you are, while outside I am shriveling up like old fruit. "I know that it has been imparted to you time and time again, the importance of this. And in your need to please everyone, you simply stand back and accept it." Her grandmother took both of her hands, "But know this, Amideira, I did not suggest this to the Circle or the Temple without a great deal of forethought. I know that you have everything that you need within you to make this work. You are smart, you are brave. And, nearly as pretty as I was at your age." Ami laughed softly, sharing in the old woman's humor, and her smile remained when the lady began to speak again, "You were born for this, never doubt that. You will adapt and you will be strong, and you make a fine Queen to reign over two kingdoms some day, not a task to be undertaken lightly. "But, for all that, my dear, you are a still a child. And you spent far longer in that cloister than I thought was appropriate. Very soon, you will join hands and kingdoms, if not hearts, with the man whom is to be your husband for the remainder of your days. A man that you don't know, who has no doubt been raised in his own right to be as stubborn and unyielding as you are. And, it is all right to be afraid. It is also all right to admit you have that fear. It does not make you any less of a princess, it just makes you human." "I am afraid, Grandmother. I don't know why." "It is unknown. It is human nature to fear the unknown. I will admit freely that my knees were like water and I could keep no food down the day of my wedding to your grandfather. Of course, to this day I am not certain if I more feared the wedding or the wedding night. Or the embarrassment of the wedding night." Ami's hands were given a gentle squeeze, "But, do not fret, you will have no such embarrassment. "On my wedding night, my parents, and his, waited outside of the bridal chamber door. And when it was deemed that enough time had passed, they knocked three times. Three times only mind you, not nearly enough warning to modestly cover ourselves. They marched right in, and before my very horrified eyes proceeded to strip the bed and check the sheets, and your grandfather was only a noble, not the heir to a throne of his own." "Sheets?" Ami frowned, not meaning to interrupt the old woman's story, but wondering what point she was trying to make. Damiar Roleran, while at times spoke cryptically, every word she said and every story she told had a meaning. Ami, unfortunately was at a loss to find the meaning behind this one. The old woman peered quizzically at her, and patted her hands again, evidently not understanding the question. "This is one time when I have intervened to make certain that your wedding night goes smoothly. Things will be awkward enough, I think, without having your mother and His and Her Majesty entering the bridal chamber. No, that duty has been delegated to Nynie damiar and Halista, as the representative of House Loriag. They will be professional and discreet and buffer you from as much embarrassment as possible." "Grandmother, I don't -- I don't understand." But she did. In the very far back corner of her mind, understanding was dawning. Understanding of things that she had heard about or read, or been taught in history classes. Understanding that she did not wish to have was very clearly, and very quickly beginning to settle into the fog in her brain and give clarity to Damiar Roleran's words. "You don't under --" The Damiar paused and looked pointedly in the direction of Nynie and Sephrine, "Whatever have you been up to Nynie? I've never known you to be so lax in your instruction." "Damiar," Nynie brought her hands together at her chest and bowed respectfully, "you know how temperamental and unpredictable Her Highness can be. I felt that the wedding day would be a suitable time to . instruct . her. Her mother did not know on her wedding night --" "A mistake on my part, and one I am trying to remedy." She flicked her wrist in dismissal and tightened her grip on Ami's hands. "The sooner you understand this, the better for all of us involved." "Understand what?" Ami heard the panic in her voice. She fought against the urge to jerk away from her grandmother and to run -- and swim -- all the way back to Albarasque if she had to. This could not be happening; she couldn't listen to this. She didn't *want* to listen to this. She was just beginning to accept, just beginning to cope . this was too surreal to be real. "This marriage is a contract, Amideira. It is the basis of a treaty that will end years of war and bloodshed between two countries. It has been years in the making, and it is important that this contract is one that is sealed, proven sealed so that we, and our people, may enjoy a new era of peace and prosperity." "I know that! That's the whole point, I understand that and . we've been talking about this. I accept it. I'm scared, but I accept it . . . I . . . " "Amideira," the word was spoken so softly that she almost had to strain to hear it. And it was by virtue of its softness that it held command, that it stopped her raving and drew her attention. "Amideira, the marriage must consummated." The words fell like ice water over her head and upon her shoulders. As long as they had remained unspoken, as long as they remained unsaid, she could pretend, within her mind that she didn't know what the woman was talking about. Before her grandmother said those words, Ami could have kept fooling herself, pretending that the talk about sheets and embarrassment meant nothing to her. But they had been spoken, and there they were, laid out before her like . . . like yet another trap of duty and expectation that she could not escape. She could not do this. She *would* not do this. Even as Ami thought the words, they felt false to her. Like every other inevitability in this world, she knew that unless another odd portal opened up and dumped her back on the beach, this would be something she could not escape. Ami didn't realize that she was shivering until she felt her grandmother pull her close, drawing her head down to her shoulder. The woman whispered soft words that fell upon deaf ears, "It's not that terrible, Ami dear. You'll see. It isn't that bad at all." Ami said nothing, simply lay there, pretending to accept Damiar Roleran's comfort. The woman had no idea how bad it truly was. *** End of Chapter Twenty-Six *** - - To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 14:44:20 -0400 From: "Michele R Bumbarger" <mbumbarger@neo.rr.com> Subject: (arfic-l) Worlds Away (Part 27/36) Title: Worlds Away (Part 27) Author: M. Bumbarger Email: worldsaway2001@yahoo.com Fandom: New Series Tomorrow People Rating: PG-13/TV-14 Summary: The Tomorrow People are swept away to a different world, where they must take up the lives of their alter-egos and try to find their way home . . . which won't be easy. Disclaimer: The Tomorrow People (Adam Newman, Ami Jackson, Megabyte Damon, and Jade Weston) are the property of Roger Damon Price, Thames Television, ITV, Tetra Television and Nickelodeon. They are used here without permission, but not for profit. The lands, countries, customs, deities, and original characters are mine and mine only, springing from the depths of my imagination and should not be used anywhere else without my permission. Please do not repost this to any list or archive it anywhere else without my express permission. Previous parts at http://www.alternate-realities.net/worldsaway ********** Chapter Twenty-Seven "Your steeds are small." Adam's hand twitched as he once again resisted the urge to provide a formal introduction of his fist to the face of the young man -- correction, young boy -- walking beside him. He had never been prone to violence or fits of temper, but somehow His Highness, Prince Calend'et brought out the very primal and the very base. This had been the way of it his entire afternoon. Their steeds were small. The corridors of the Lion Palace were cold and dull. The wine was bitter. The plumfruit was overly sweet. The milk was thin and weak and lacking in cream. On and on, over and again, complaint after complaint as though the boy had some driving need to demonstrate all the valid reasons to dislike Stiborn and Stibornan culture, and to show how very much he disliked it. The purpose of this excursion was to encourage harmony and peaceable relations between the two kingdoms. In the absence of the Prince-Regent, Amideira's father, and with her mother and grandmother attending to all tradition and associating as little as possible with the men of Stiborn, this royal duty fell onto the shoulders Prince Calend'et. Of course, Adam was hard pressed to see how it could possibly encourage harmony, when all he wanted to do was punch Calend'et, or barring that, see that he was taken across someone's knee. Royal etiquette demanded that in the interest of both kingdoms, he curb such violent, useless impulses. That didn't mean however, he wasn't allowed to give back as good as he was given. "Yes, Your Highness, our steeds are small. We here in Stiborn do not feel the overwhelming need to use size as a demonstration of importance or potency," Adam remarked blandly. It was petty, yes. It belittled him and the importance of his position as heir to the Lion Throne, but Adam thought that it was well worth it, royal etiquette be damned, when he saw the uncertain, then outraged expression on the young prince's face. Gotcha, he thought triumphantly, even as the younger boy struggled to reassert his regal mask and bearing. Watching him, Adam flinched and took an involuntary step backwards. For a few moments, while the mask was gone, he had seen and felt something raw, acrid and bitter. The emotions had names - arrogance, rage, hatred, and they matched the fire that flashed, albeit briefly in those dark eyes of Calend'et's. And this little imp was Ami's brother. He thanked fate that his counterpart's one sibling hid nothing beyond sweetness and brightness behind her eyes and smile. He wasn't sure he could take a monster of his own like this one. Of course, Ami had it doubly bad, she had to suffer through both this spoiled brat of a prince-ling and the overbearing shrew of a mother.soon to be Adam's own overbearing shrew of a mother in law. He would really have to ask her how she managed to put up with so much for so long. "Besides," Adam continued as though his other words had implied no insult, as if he had not been taking pleasure in the prince's ire, "Smaller steeds are faster and more maneuverable. We believe that speed and defensibility are of great import, particularly on the battlefield. Of course, handling our breeds requires great skill in horsemanship, we can't simply wait for them to stomp through whatever is in the way. "However, if the beasts are too small for you and you have no interest in riding --" Adam trailed off, making an absent motion towards the stables, his eyes meeting those of Hagen just beyond the prince's shoulder. His cousin was, of course, smirking and not doing anything at all to hide it. With a roll of his eyes, he looked away from Hagen, lest he burst into laughter as well. "You might be surprised to find out how adept my people are as horsemen." Calend'et paused a moment, his lips curling into a smile that gave Adam a chill as he added, "And horsewomen, of course." "Am I to presume that your sister has a fondness then for riding?" "It's a skill she has . . .," again came the pause in speech, the curling of the lip that made Adam's blood curdle, the next word delivered coolly, "perfected." Adam had taken fully one step forward towards the prince before he caught himself and forced himself to hold his ground. He reminded himself that Calend'et didn't know Ami; that his only half-veiled insult had not truly been directed at Ami, but rather at the woman he believed to be his sister. Not that that provided justification, and still Adam felt that he should defend the woman's honor on general principle, but he knew how foolish that would be. He had no reason to rise to Calend'et's bait, beyond his affection for Ami and he couldn't very well began fiercely defending a woman that he was not supposed to know. Adam smiled, doing his best to reign in his contempt. "I wasn't aware that they focused so intensely on horseman skill at the Temple of Damiaren. I was given to believe that your sister spent a great deal of her life there. In the cloister, I thought it was." Again, the subtle flinch, the tightening of the jaw that told Adam that the prince heard both the words that Adam spoke, and the ones he left unspoken. "Yes, but you should be warned that my sister is not . . . the tame sort, Your Highness." The title was spoken airily, with an edge that told Adam precisely how much Calend'et did not enjoy calling Adam by that title. "She is stubborn and unruly, all hidden behind a smile and a veil of innocence." "Yes, well, there are some who prefer confidence and back-bone in their mates." Adam nodded to the groom in acknowledgement of the readiness of his horse and affectionately patted the stallion on the neck. "I would go as far as to say that those traits would be most coveted in a woman that will someday be Damiar Reina." Calend'et's eyes narrowed to slits. He rudely took the reins of the horse selected for him, dismissing the groom as though the man were no more than a bug beneath his shoe. "Do not speak so quickly. That title is not my sister's yet. There are conventions that you can not begin to understand, but suffice to say that this treaty does not pave your way to the Sun Throne." "Nor," Adam swung himself into the saddle, "does it pave yours." The scowl turned into a glare and Adam was grateful that looks could not kill. Prince Calend'et was young, but he was neither stupid nor na=EFve. He knew very well what this treaty, and all its trappings meant. Adam knew, from the undisguised hatred and disgust that he felt emanating from the other, that for all his youth, Calend'et knew that there was only one thing that stood in the way of his progeny assuming the Sun Throne, and that he was face-to-face with that threat. There were but two requirements for ascendancy to the Sun Throne. One, was that the crown heir be female, and the second, was that the crown heir be accepted by the Temple of Damiaren as a potential damia or damiar someday. By fault of birth, Amideira had achieved both without trying, however, she would not be named as the true crown heir until such day as she provided a daughter approved by the Temple. On the day that happened, the two kingdoms of Stiborn and Albarasque would truly be linked, would truly be sister kingdoms united through blood and magic with the blessings of both the Temple of Damiaren and the Temple of Zolnar behind them. Adam was the personification of all that could destroy Calend'et's aspirations. Although the young prince would never reign over Albarasque on his own merits, he could reign as regent if he produced an heir until that heir was of age to ascend to the throne. The very inevitability of the marriage between the High Prince Adam Aldaric and the Damiar Princess Amideira was a hurdle that stood in Calend'et's way, because, in his mind, and every other mind as well, theirs was a union that should and very possibly would, produce that daughter-heiress for the Sun Throne. Climbing into the saddle, Calend'et's glare faded as quickly as it had appeared, his face a mask of youthful innocence again. How quickly the boy changed tempers and moods sent a chill along Adam's spine that had noting to do with the cool breezes blowing. "You misunderstand me. I have no aspirations towards the Sun Throne. I only wished to remind you that this treaty is only that - a treaty. You can no more rule my lands than my mother could yours. "Although you could probably do that more easily that rule my beloved sister." Beloved? Adam truly doubted that words. If he had gleaned nothing else from his forced association with the young prince, it was that the young man bore no love for his sister. He would just as soon see her married off in a foreign land, out of sight, and no doubt he hoped, out of mind. But, it would seem that for one who wanted the competition removed, trying to convince her future husband that she was less than a lady was hardly the means of assuring she was out of the way. Unless, of course, his dislike ran so deeply that he could not see the lack of logic in his actions and behaviors. "I have no desire to *rule* your sister, Your Highness. She will be my equal, not my servant." "Then you northerners are more foolish than I thought," Calend'et guided his horse forward with a snort, "If my mother could not press Amideira under her thumb, surely you will break yours trying. But, it is grandmother's desperation that brings about all of this. It's sad that for you we could do no better." The insult was not implied or even thinly veiled. Adam felt his ire rise at the nerve of the boy. Insulting his sister was a matter that annoyed Adam; the fact that he stated forthright that he felt the people of Stiborn were beneath him, and deserved no less than an unruly, badly trained princess as the bride of their High Prince . . . Only Hagen's horse sweeping into the path of his own, prevented Adam from riding forward and yanking Calend'et out of his saddle, treaty be damned. "We're wasting valuable daylight, gentlemen," Hagen announced from the back of his horse. Calend'et paused and eyed the other man with open distaste, as though he were daring him to take up a challenge. "If we are going to ride, we should do it while there is still good light." Hagen's eyes met Adam's in a silent entreaty for the man to bite his tongue and not rise to Calend'et's carefully planted bait. "Give me a reason," Adam hissed, loud enough for Hagen to hear, but not quite loudly enough for the words to fall on the young prince's ears. "Because, this treaty is too important and we both know it. Let him have his moment," Hagen slowly moved his horse away, still speaking softly. "As much as I would like to see him flat upon his back, the fleeting pleasure is not worth a war." "It wouldn't come to that." "Are you so sure? You're not married to the Damiar Princess yet." *** There were times when Hagen did not understand his cousin. And then, there were times when solely for the sake of argument and good humor, Hagen pretended that he did not understand his cousin. This time was the former and not the latter. After the distasteful day spent in the companionship of His Highness Prince Calend'et, Hagen had been more than happy to part ways with arrogant and annoying prince. Watching Calend'et's retreating form had provided more pleasure than Hagen would have ever believed it was possible to achieve from visual stimulus alone. The only thing that would have been more enjoyable would have been to watch his cousin knock the upstart from his saddle and teach him proper manners. But, there was a treaty to consider, so he had intervened, although he knew that he would probably regret it for days to come. And Hagen had the distinct impression that Adam was feeling the same. So, a trip into town and to one of the kinder, gentler taverns had been in order for both of them. Or so, Hagen had declared. Adam, as usual of late, had not been entirely keen on Hagen's choice of distractions, but a few prods and good natured teasing convinced the prince to join him, if only for the sake of shutting Hagen up. Any victory was a victory, and Hagen could live with that reasoning. Unfortunately, an hour into this excursion, and Hagen and Stewart were the only ones taking advantage of the distraction. Adam sat quietly in the corner seat, the same plate of stew in front of him, now cold, and the same mug of ale within fingers' reach but still virtually untouched. Occasionally, his cousin would raise his head and listen with interest to the bard's music, but then, as if some new thought possessed him, he ceased listening and dropped his attention to scowl at the tabletop. Enough was enough. His cousin was so preoccupied with a young prince-ling, who would be nothing of his concern after the wedding, that he failed to notice the dark-haired and buxom tavern wench who made repeated stops at their table. Her attention was solely focused on her prince, although Hagen took great pleasure in the deep curtsies she delivered each time she stopped, but with the current state of mind that Adam was in, he probably wouldn't have noticed if Emerila dropped right into his lap. "Your Highness, you don't like the stew?" As though his thoughts summoned her, she appeared, tray under one arm, dropping into a curtsy that gave Hagen a bird's eye view of peach colored and freckled flesh. Adam smiled, one of those half-distracted smiles that never touched his eyes, but it made Emerila flush prettily nonetheless. "No, it's fine - I'm just not very hungry. You can take it away." He pushed the bowl towards her, much to Hagen's disappointment. He had been hoping that Emerila would have to lean across the table. She scooped up the bowl, "Can I get you something else?" The prince shook his head, already returning his attention to scowl at the nicked wooden tabletop. Unable to resist, Hagen caught her hand, "What will a smile get me?" "It will save you from getting hit over the head," Emerila smiled, gently tugging her hand free. "I know you, Lord Hagen, and your handsome smile and pretty words won't turn my head that easily." "Ah, but there is a chance for me, then?" "Perhaps. The night is early yet." Emerila merely laughed, and with a playful wink, headed away from their table. "We shall see milord." "Adam," Hagen forced his eyes away from watching the movement of Emerila's hips, "I don't think you fully appreciate the lengths I am going through for you." Stewart snorted into his mug, "I don't think anyone can appreciate it as much as you Hagen." "I appreciate good ale and beautiful women, and there is no shame in that, Stewart." Hagen raised his mug for emphasis, then drank the last of his ale. He leaned towards his cousin, "But you, cousin, are a sad disappointment. I can not believe that you are still allowing the words of that little upstart to crawl beneath your skin." "He's bitter," Adam looked up suddenly, as though his words were a revelation. "Calend'et is bitter and cold." "I thought I trained you to be more observant than that," Stewart remarked, "How is it that you've just noticed what I saw immediately? That one has no friends and no love outside of his own." Adam rolled his eyes and slumped back on his stool. He used the corner as a support, rapping his fingertips on the table. Hagen knew that crease in the brow, knew that the tightness of the lips and the way his cousin gripped at his lion medallion heralded deep thoughts and insights. Deep thoughts and insights that his cousin would share whether Hagen and Stewart wanted to hear them or not. "No, I don't mean towards us. I meant in general. He's . . .jealous and dangerous." "Not to you, he is not," Stewart's mug slammed soundly against the table, there being no way to mistake the growl in his voice. "Treaty or no treaty -" "I didn't mean me." Adam silenced the older man with a look. He released his death grip on the medallion and leaned forward resting his lower arms on the table. "I meant to Ami-deira." The pause, when he said the name of the Damiar Princess was not lengthy, was not even enough to warrant attention, aside from the fact that it was not the first time that Adam had done such. Hagen caught Stewart's eyes, briefly, and knew that the older man had noticed it as well. For not the first time, Hagen wondered if perhaps his cousin hadn't managed to somehow breach etiquette and tradition and made contact with his bride before the wedding. After all, Hagen knew of the gift Adam had sent to the girl while she was at the Temple, and he knew that at least once since her arrival in Stiborn, his cousin had received a sealed letter that he had shared with no one, and by action alone had dared Hagen to inquire about its contents. It didn't seem possible that Adam had managed to bend a few rules and slip between a few cracks, but Hagen knew his cousin. If it was possible, and he wanted it badly enough, it was not beyond the prince' s abilities to do as he pleased. Still, Adam would require close watching, just in case he was doing something that might offend the delicate sensibilities of the Damia Reina. "She stands in his way," Stewart broke off a piece of bread, "and represents everything that he is not. Yes, he's jealous of her. Just because you and Tara know nothing of sibling rivalry doesn't mean that all families of the world have that luxury. Look at Hagen." Hagen shook his head at the reference, stopping Emerila with an outstretched arm as she skirted past their table. "Not true, I have no rivalry with my sisters. I simply dislike them intensely. My mug is empty, sweet Emerila, will you do the honors?" "I will, but only because you ask so sweetly, milord," Emerila's grin seemed rooted in place and she included Stewart and Adam in her sweeping gaze. "Something else for you, my lord Stewart? I see that His Highness has not so much as touched his drink." "Cold feet," Hagen supplied, grinning broadly when Adam glared at him. "Happens to the best of men, I suppose. But you can bring me his as well." Stewart tucked a coin inside the front pocket of Emerila's dress, "Bring him a blanket as well. I certainly will not walk him home when his feet can not move in a straight line." "If I know my Lord Hagen, I do not think finding a place to sleep will give him any difficulty," Emerila swept the empty mugs up in one hand, and turned on her heel, laughing over her shoulder when Hagen planted an all too familiar and playful swat upon her departing rear. "I don't trust him," Adam picked up the thread of the conversation. "Why? Because he made some callous remarks about the virtue of his sister?" Hagen shrugged. "I've said far worse for far less." "I don't know. It's just this feeling I have." Hagen groaned. Adam and his damned feelings. They were nothing new, these twinges of gut instinct that his cousin had from time to time in his life. What annoyed Hagen about them was that they couldn't be ignored, because nine times out of ten, Adam's feelings about something proved to be absolutely correct. Still, he couldn't resist his sarcasm, "Why am I not surprised?" "I hardly think that Prince Calend'et would harm his sister," Stewart stroked his chin, "certainly not when there are so many eyes upon her. Not that I discount your fears, Adam, but perhaps there is the small matter of your nerves as well?" "My nerves?" Adam asked the question as though he couldn't believe Stewart would even suggest such a thing. "You are not immune to the stress of the situation. You know the importance of this treaty, and the importance of your duty. And as much as you might pretend otherwise, I know you and I know that you are not as calm as you pretend to be." "That's ridiculous." "Is it?" "Stewart, I'm not imagining things." "I never said that you were." "What does it matter?" Hagen spoke up quickly, before his two companions were involved in an argument. "After the wedding, Calend'et will be gone, back in Albarasque. Worries over, problem solved. Well, aside from the fact that if half of what he implied about your bride's virtue was true -" "It wasn't." The abruptness and curtness of Adam's answer took him by surprise. Normally, Hagen might have pressed the issue, reminding Adam that he didn't know that, that he didn't know anything about the Damiar Princess other than what he had been told, but the hardness in cousin's eyes stopped him from going that route. He scratched the back of his neck, looking for a way to change the subject and get away from Adam's accusatory eyes, all the while feeling more and more the certainty that one way or another his cousin had ignored a few traditions and side-stepped a few rules of etiquette. "Well, you'll find out on your wedding night one way or another," Stewart pointed out. "For the sake of peace, I hope that your objection came from another one of your instincts." The prince's reaction to Stewart's words was unexpected. His head jerked up, dark eyes studying the older man as though he was both seeing him and hearing the words for the first time. He blinked, once, then again, his jaw dropping slightly as the color faded slightly from his features. With a groan, Adam slumped back against the wall, banging his head against it for emphasis. "Gods, my wedding night." Hagen responded to his cousin's behavior the only way that he could. He laughed, and quite loudly, slapping the table with his palm. "Oh come on, cousin. I know that you are not so inexperienced and na=EFve that the thought unsettles you that much. I imagine that a princess is not so different from any other woman." "And I imagine, Hagen," Adam peered at him from beneath slitted eyelids, "that you are a pig." "Hnn," Stewart grunted, "I know it for a fact." *** End of Chapter Twenty-Seven - - To unsubscribe to arfic-l, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe arfic-l" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ End of arfic-l-digest V1 #26 **************************** - To unsubscribe to $LIST, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe $LIST" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message.