(no subject)

[peerless_thayet]

A wall is only as strong as the mortar holding together its bricks. A sheet of canvas can only maintain its structural integrity if its threads resist fraying.

Chip away at the mortar, and the bricks shift.

Unravel threads, one by one, and holes begin to appear.

Poke enough holes, stretch hard and thin enough, and no barrier stands as strong or holds back as much as it once did.

Even the toughest, strongest spells can fail with enough provocation.

****

Thayet finds Jonathan in his favorite chair in their study, feet propped on a stool and a scroll spread across his lap. His beard looks as well-groomed as ever, but sleep and fidgety fingers have made a mess of his dark hair. She smiles, sneaking up behind him on her bare feet and wrapping her arms around his neck before he can fully process her presence.

"Come back to bed," she whispers against his ear, lips moving down to press a kiss to his neck. She feels his answering smile.

"You were snoring," he lies, voice warm with affection.

Thayet snorts lightly. "That's the best you can do? Your reports will still be here when the sun finishes rising."

A quick glance at the window reveals the faint light that comes moments before dawn.

The King hesitates.

"I would," Jon says at last, caressing her arm as he looks up at her. "Truly, I would. But we've much to do today if we mean to enjoy the Winter Solstice celebrations. And I do mean to. Maybe I'll even be able to dance with my wife!"

"Are you certain she wants to dance with you? After you've accused her of making such inelegant noises when she sleeps?"

He's right, of course. They do have a great deal to manage today of all days, and she doesn't mind it at all; her wispy dreams of a stolen half hour quickly disperse, nothing more than a lovely might-have-been. She kisses his neck one more time and goes "Mmmmmmm" in that way he likes, so at least he'll experience a fleeting moment of regret, too.

"That wasn't fair," he grumbles at her as she pulls away, watching her closely as she picks through the scrolls on his desk.

Thayet smiles and picks one up, tapping it against her hand. The smile grows when she moves across the room to her favorite spot. "Neither was your early escape from our bed, my lord husband. Or your baseless accusation. In fact, it was downright unchiv-"

Behind her, something crashes to the ground.

Thayet spins around, concerned that maybe she'd been inattentive and knocked over the candles by his desk. Instead, she is shocked to see Jonathan standing, chair upended, scrolls at his feet, his face drained of color.

"Jon!" She yanks up her robe and races over. "What happened? Are you-"

Once again, she is interrupted. The King grabs her arm and looks at her, but his eyes have yet to focus on her own. It's like he's seeing something in the distance he can't bring himself to believe. "Did you... Did you hear that? No. It wasn't..."

Feeling helpless, Thayet touches his face, trying to get him to look at her. "Is it the Jewel? Has there been a flood? Another earthquake?"

Horse Lords, she hopes not. One such natural -- well, magical -- disaster is enough for one lifetime.

"No, it's not that." He swears, tilting his head like he's struggling to hear something. "It was my Gift, not the Jewel. I think. Where's Alanna?"

"In Olau, or close enough."

Jon nods. "Numair. Call for him. I need to try and reach the Lioness in the fire."

Once upon a time, that might have sounded utterly mad to the Queen. Things have changed. She squeezes his hand and moves toward the door, a hundred questions on her lips she knows she needs to hold back for now. As she goes for the handle, the door blows in and slams against the wall, admitting Numair himself in his dressing gown, one end flapping in the wind he'd generated with his speedy passage, and Thayet instinctively cradles the hand she nearly lost in his arrival. One glance at the mage's face is enough to sink her stomach and confirm that nothing about this year's Winter Solstice is going to go according to plan. Sobering still further, she waves off the guards hot on Numair's heels.

The mage is already pacing before Jon. "You felt it too." It's not a question.

Thayet hopes at the very least it's an answer. She takes a deep breath and holds it, drawing her own robe closer about her person. Jon's unseeing stare finally snaps back to the here and now. "The barrier," he says, at the same time Numair all but shouts, "The barrier snapped!"

The barrier is gone? Thayet blinks, absorbing this, finally letting out a gasp when she realizes what it means and why she, unGifted as she is, didn't sense any disturbance. "The barrier between the Realms?"

Numair nods, only now looking mildly taken aback by everyone's state of undress. "Vanished entirely. It was like someone struck a bell too hard almost out of hearing. It was percussive. Suddenly I knew every other mage in the city was experiencing the same. Including you, your Majesty. I saw you tip over your chair." He points at it and then holds his hands out wide. "I knew it had been weakened, of course. We've been addressing the problem. But it must have been worse than anyone imagined."

Thayet resists the urge to sink down on whatever piece of furniture is closest. "Ozorne's mages must have opened more gates than suspected. Even by Kaddar."

Jon's expression hardens, and he begins to pace as well. "And still he evades our best spies and trackers."

Someone slim and unobtrusive slips into the room, and Thayet puts her arm around Daine's shoulders without taking her eyes off the two men. "What does this mean for Tortall?" she asks her husband and friends, quietly.

Jon and Numair both still. They look at each other, then at Thayet and Daine. "The Immortals will be on us in droves come the Spring thaw," Numair tells them.

Horse Lords.

"Well," Thayet says. "We'd better get to work."