Summary: Songfic to Come What May only in AJ terms we all understand, wink wink. It's kinda sad, especially at the end. You have been forewarned. I suck at summaries, I really do.

A/N—This song makes me cry. As tortallanrider pointed out to me, it speaks sooo truly about Jon and Alanna in every way, so I just decided to write about it. It helps that I love Moulin Rouge too. That movie is amazing. If you've never seen it, do. You'll love it… well, maybe guys not so much, but girls will. Heehee.

Rated T and is definitely a romantic drama/angst. Lol I love those.

Disclaimer: I don't own this song or TP's ideas no matter how much I love them.

Chapter One: Come What May

Like I've never seen the sky before.

Want to vanish inside your kiss

Everyday I love you more and more.

Listen to my heart can you hear it sing?

Telling me to give you everything.

Seasons may change winter to spring

But I love you, until the end of time.

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"But Jon, I want to be on the front lines! Why are you being so stubborn? It's not like you don't know that I can handle myself!" Sir Alanna of Olau and Pirate's Swoop shouted to her king, Jonathan the IV of Conté, in the command tent. She was indeed very red, from her flaming red hair to her anger-flushed cheeks.

"Alanna, how many times do I need to tell you that you are not needed there? The skirmish isn't so bad that it needs the Champion to care for its every need and whim. The men can take care of themselves, and besides," he grinned wickedly, not your normal everyday king, "George wouldn't forgive me if his first child was killed before it was born."

At first, Alanna opened her mouth to retaliate, but she quickly discovered there was no way to get back at him for that. She shut her mouth and glowered at her former knight master, clearly displeased. "He won't be pleased if I'm grumpy when I come home," she mumbled, but Jon didn't hear her.

She left the tent, leaving a heavy feeling of displeasure in her wake. Inwardly, Jon regretted making her unhappy—every time he did so he regretted it—but the facts were the facts. He shook his head in dismay and turned his attention to new reports from the skirmish. To put it simply: not good.

The battle was dragging on longer than he had anticipated and the Scanrans were putting up a bigger fight than was plausible for so small of numbers. The reports coming in were frantic now: they had mages. Jon hoped to Mithros and the Goddess that Alanna was not outside listening to this. For some reason, he didn't want her in on this fight. His explanation was that enough has gone wrong and if she goes in, something else could go bad and he would have to look for another Champion. That's what he told himself anyway.

He sent out rushed orders and supplied more troops where needed when Alanna came in, smiling uncharacteristically sweetly. "Not needed here am I, Jon? Oh how I love it when you're wrong."

Now it was Jon's turn to scowl, but he was in no position to argue—the mages were beginning to force a hole in the front line. If that hole got large enough, it would split the army meaning Jon's army would have to fight on two fronts—the worst thing. "Alright fine!" he snapped. "But if anything happens to you or the baby, I'm blaming it all on you!"

"Thank you!" Alanna cried exasperatedly while rushing out of the tent to suit up.

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Jon surveyed the wreckage with distaste. The Scanrans had been defeated and forced to surrender at the price of heavy losses on his side. His eyes passed disinterestedly over the carnage looking for something in particular. "Where are you?" he muttered, eyes scouring every detail. At last he spotted what he was looking for, but it wasn't the way he wanted to.

Smeared with dirt and drying blood was the gold and red armor of the Champion, barely distinguishable from the rest of the gore around it. If it hadn't been for a spot of red hair, deeply matted with blood and mud, Jon would have passed over the body without a second glance.

His advisors cried for him to stop, but he ran to the redhead on the ground. She barely moved, but there was breath there, only just lifting her from the ground as she inhaled. Relieved, he knelt by Alanna's side and turned her over. Her face was hardly touched, but there was blood seeping from beneath her breastplate.

He tore off his gloves and pulled the hair away from her face. She was shaking, likely from loss of blood, yet her eyes flickered open so a glimmer of purple sneaked out from heavy lids. She smiled weakly, shivering worse than ever. "I knew you'd find me." Jon shushed her and went on to heal her wounds. He gently removed the breastplate and felt for the source of the wound. Fortunately, it was nowhere near her womb leaving her unborn child—hopefully—safe.

It was no infliction of a sword, though now that he thought about it, no one could have managed such a feat facing the Lioness. No this gash nearly went clear through her and was not a clean wound that would have suggested a blade of sorts, which meant only one thing: magic.

He silently cursed the man—or woman—who wouldn't dare face his Lioness in open combat and would only harm her while she was distracted. He healed the wound as best he could and the shaking subsided a little. He picked her up and carried her bridal style back to the caravan loading up other survivors and ordered someone fetch her sword.

They reached the command tent only an hour or so later and Alanna was promptly rushed to the healing tent before Jon was even told why.

He watched as his best friend was briskly greeted by Duke Baird. One of her arms flopped off its place on her stomach and dangled lifelessly off the edge of the stretcher. Jon's eyes widened in horror.

He began to march jerkily towards the tent, but was stopped at the entrance by one of his own men. Oblivious to the insubordination, the king instantly asked, "What happened?" he asked, the fear clearly present in his voice.

"She lost too much blood, despite your efforts and went into shock while in the caravan," the man explained, eyes sympathetic. "I'm sorry sir, but as of this moment, she could be dead."

"Move aside," Jonathan—the King Jonathan—ordered coldly.

"I cannot, my lord. I suggest you rest and we will inform you if anything changes. Please, sire, there is nothing you can do there."

"I can be with her. I need to be with her if she dies," Jon murmured and promptly passed out.

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He awoke in his tent to a note right in his face informing him to immediately come to the healer's tent. He jumped into his boots and raced as fast as he could, bypassing an unwary soldier on his way into the ward.

"She's fine, my lord, but we have thus far been unable to remove her from unconsciousness. We fear she may be in a coma, there was a severe extent of head damage," Duke Baird whispered. "Maybe if you stayed with her a while it would help." Jon nodded dumbly, deftly walking past the duke and to his Champion. At least she was clean now and her breathing strong and regular. He pulled up a chair beside her bed and sank into it.

"Hey Alanna," he whispered, voice thickening with emotion. He wasn't used to seeing her like this, so still—too still. She had had overextensions before, but at least she moved once in a while. Now she was just dead, except for the obvious fact that she was breathing.

He didn't know what to say. He covered her hand with his own, brushing it with his thumb. His hand twitched involuntarily causing his fingertips to brush her callused ones. With unnerving clarity, he remembered the feeling of those hands clawing at his bare back at night when they were younger (a/n: anyone else's hearts pounding?) He removed his hand quickly and shoved the memory back down. He had a special connection with her, there was no denying it, and his love for Thayet only took him so far, the rest of the way was paved for—

Stop it he ordered himself. What's wrong with you? Jon chuckled and returned his thoughts to his Champion, Lioness, and friend—not his former lover.

He took her hand again and brought it up to meet his lips. Holding her knuckles to his forehead, he exhaled heavily with his eyes closed, just resting. She couldn't die, not while Jon still had love for her. Startled, he nearly dropped the hand. He placed it down carefully and leapt up and paced. Did he just admit something to himself? Please tell me I didn't, he pleaded to his inner Faithful-like companion. I have a wife, two beautiful children and Alanna has George and a young one on the way. What's wrong with me? He repeated to himself.

Calming himself back down, he sat by her side again. It was funny how she still had this much power over him, even in unconsciousness. Thayet didn't have that much power over him. She could keep him under control, that was one thing, but she couldn't stop him in his tracks and make him think like Alanna so readily could.

Something jolted him away from his thoughts. Had Alanna sniffed? He stared at her, perplexed, until something out of the corner of his eye moved. He waited for a few moments more, but nothing else happened. "Gods Alanna!" he cried. "Why do you do this to me!" He sighed in response to his own question.

He bent over her, ear to her mouth, listening for a change. Nothing. He turned his head and suddenly he realized they were very close, her quiet scent filling his nostrils. He could feel heat rising through him. She is beautiful, he thought, just in her own way. Out of impulse, he covered her lips with his own, reminding him vividly of a similar moment in Fort Drell during the Tusaine War.

But this was different. He suddenly felt her lips moving beneath his, and a light hand felt its way into his hair, combing through it. He pushed away from her, alarmed, and found wide and alert amethyst eyes searching his. "I'm sorry," he stuttered, realizing what he had done, "I didn't mean—" but she pulled him back down, this time, both of them (thankfully) having full control of their bodies. She pulled his head closer to hers deepening their kiss and felt him asking for entrance which she willingly, and surprisingly, gave.

Hearing the movement of tent hangings being rearranged so someone could enter forced the two apart.

Duke Baird came in to check on her, stunned to find her awake. After a while of checking and double-checking his results on her, he discharged Alanna from the tent, but recommended someone keep an eye on her.

All through the checkup, Alanna found her passion and love for Jon flare back up again, rivaling even the infamous 'Seventeenth Birthday' incident, up until their fight at Alanna's home with the Bloody Hawk tribe of Bazhir.

The rest of the week was saved for helping the wounded regain some of their lost strength for the trip home, but Alanna and her king soon found more…pleasurable… things to spend their time on than resting, and Jon had a bit more than just an eye on her. No one knew of course because of careful measures taken to prevent that sort of thing, but one night, Alanna lay curled against her king, using his chest as a pillow while his fingers stroked up and down her spine. "This is wrong, I know it is," she whispered, but she was certain he heard her from the hesitation in his current stroke. "We won't be able to continue it back in Corus."

"I know," Jon murmured, "but it doesn't stop me loving you."

Alanna looked up, frightened as he stared right back. "Does it matter?" he asked. "It won't change anything: I'll still be married to Thayet and you to George. It won't change a thing."

She got up hurriedly and dressed. "It matters, Jon, because if I still love you, and you still love me, then that means that our spouses who we are supposed to love, by law of the Goddess, don't get all our love like they are supposed to. George deserves that much from me, if not more."

"And I don't deserve it?" Jon huffed slightly, looking at the ceiling of the tent.

"There it is again, just like in the desert, that kingly ordering persona of yours. That's what drove me away from you last time, do you want it to happen again?" this time it was Jon's turn to be silent.

"Just come back to bed—we'll figure this out when we leave for home tomorrow."

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Eh, it was alright. Wasn't as good as I was hoping it to be, but I maybe the next chapter will be better. Ah well, give me your thoughts. Review please.

kt

Oh, and I've decided that the Conté Rose will become more of a long-term project, seeing as it happens to be long, and I'll have smaller works in between chapters. Is that alright with y'all? If it isn't, tell me so.