Post by jazzyjess on Mar 14, 2010 4:48:59 GMT 10
Title: Melancholy
Rating: PG
Length: 1,048
Competitor: Dom
Round/Fight: 2/B
Summary: In which Dom loves Kel who loves Dom, but then there is Wyldon.
P. S. I am now very late for work!!
-
What she notices first is that when she is assigned to Mastiff, under the command of Lord Wyldon and again amongst her friends in the Third Company, she is left alone quite rarely. As the only remaining knight left in the guard fortress, Kel is often cooped up in Wyldon’s office, going over scrolls and maps on the table against the wall as he writes letters containing orders and prepares to dictate verbal messages to runners on his big desk.
For a man she has always considered to be ruthlessly organised, she is surprised to see signs of stress showing as the war wages on and his men continue to die despite the best tactics he could possibly assign. She sees this stress in the way he rakes a hand over the top of his head, wishing, she was sure, that he had hair on his crown to tangle his fingers in. She sees it too in the lines on his face that deepen as the day grows later, so before she leaves every evening she fetches him a cup of tea, lacing it with a pinch of the dry herbs Neal sent her as a relaxant for her head.
The first time, Wyldon had been surprised. “What is this?” he’d asked, peering at the tea as she stirred in the herbs.
“It will soothe your head,” Kel had answered, and when their eyes met she felt a jolt through her body. He was the first to break eye contact.
“My head aches now as it never has before,” Wyldon had said bluntly. “Thank you.”
He has given up so much, Kel reflects, that she is surprised he still carries on. It is for this that she respects him in a manner not so different than that of her page years. He is still the man she turns to for advice, and she hangs on his every word so that she might learn to command from the greatest commander of them all.
Kel doesn’t marry Dom, though not because he hasn’t asked. They have endured so many things together, she and the sergeant, and he whispers in a breaking voice, “I don’t want to die without knowing you are mine.”
But she tells him that he must leave the Own if they were to get married, and that she never wants to force him to make that kind of choice. “Besides,” she adds, “what will you do all day without your squad? Sit around on Masbolle land and do nothing but paperwork and inventory. You would hate yourself every day.”
“I would join the army,” he says determinedly, and Kel relishes the idea only briefly before shaking her head.
“It would be a step down in honour,” she says quietly. “After so much work in the Own, you will be relegated to private under the command of a commoner you will despise, and it will kill you. I know it would.”
Now he is desperate but Kel touches his face with both her hands, and he holds her as tightly to his body as he is able. “I have seen the wives of knights who must stay behind as their husbands ride to face death, men who have a small chance of returning sound in body and mind. I have seen how it rips them apart, how they wait every day for some news, some small message, that they are not waiting in vain.” She meets his eyes, and she says, “I would be riding to face my death, and you would be left waiting. That is not a life I would wish for us.”
So Kel spends her days with Wyldon and her nights with Dom, always working toward what she believes is a better cause. They will win this war somehow – she can’t see it, but she feels it in her heart. Tortall is a nation that has a core of steel, and that steel centre is made up of the knights of the realm. We are mighty she believes and so we will win.
One night after she has given her tea to Wyldon as he sits at his desk, he takes her hand before she can move away. “Keladry,” he rasps, and it has been only a year but he looks so much older now than he did when she was first assigned to Mastiff.
In a mixture of admiration for the fight he puts up and pity for the hope in his heart she knows is crumbling – it is falling apart in her heart, too – she rests a hand on the side of his head and kisses his crown, and his grip tightens on her wrist and he is so warm and smells like horses and physical labour and the woods, so she lowers her face and kisses his cheek. She knows what she is doing, and when she kisses his mouth, it is feather soft until his hand drops from hers and she pulls away.
They are both breathing heavily, and while Wyldon doesn’t say anything, Kel knows what he is thinking. She straightens, and she doesn’t know how her voice remains so even as she says, “Good night, sir,” and leaves.
Dom is waiting outside of headquarters, sitting on the step outside the entrance with his head in his hands. As Kel comes out, he rises, and frowns at her. Self-consciously, Kel touches her hair – which isn’t mussed – and her cheeks – perhaps a bit flushed, but it is dark outside and so she’s certain he can’t tell.
“I’m leaving at first light,” Dom says abruptly, and Kel stares at him. “Our Company has been summoned south,” he adds, “and the Second will be taking over here.”
Despite herself, Kel glances over her shoulder as she walks with Dom, hand in hand, back into camp, away from her rooms and to the tent that they have been sharing for many days. She peers up at the one lit window in headquarters, and she imagines to herself that she can see Wyldon’s outline, back straight as he finishes his paperwork for the evening.
“We’ll be all right,” she murmurs, and Dom squeezes her hand.
“I’ll come back for you,” he promises, but Kel knows that even if he doesn’t, she’ll be all right.
Rating: PG
Length: 1,048
Competitor: Dom
Round/Fight: 2/B
Summary: In which Dom loves Kel who loves Dom, but then there is Wyldon.
P. S. I am now very late for work!!
-
What she notices first is that when she is assigned to Mastiff, under the command of Lord Wyldon and again amongst her friends in the Third Company, she is left alone quite rarely. As the only remaining knight left in the guard fortress, Kel is often cooped up in Wyldon’s office, going over scrolls and maps on the table against the wall as he writes letters containing orders and prepares to dictate verbal messages to runners on his big desk.
For a man she has always considered to be ruthlessly organised, she is surprised to see signs of stress showing as the war wages on and his men continue to die despite the best tactics he could possibly assign. She sees this stress in the way he rakes a hand over the top of his head, wishing, she was sure, that he had hair on his crown to tangle his fingers in. She sees it too in the lines on his face that deepen as the day grows later, so before she leaves every evening she fetches him a cup of tea, lacing it with a pinch of the dry herbs Neal sent her as a relaxant for her head.
The first time, Wyldon had been surprised. “What is this?” he’d asked, peering at the tea as she stirred in the herbs.
“It will soothe your head,” Kel had answered, and when their eyes met she felt a jolt through her body. He was the first to break eye contact.
“My head aches now as it never has before,” Wyldon had said bluntly. “Thank you.”
He has given up so much, Kel reflects, that she is surprised he still carries on. It is for this that she respects him in a manner not so different than that of her page years. He is still the man she turns to for advice, and she hangs on his every word so that she might learn to command from the greatest commander of them all.
Kel doesn’t marry Dom, though not because he hasn’t asked. They have endured so many things together, she and the sergeant, and he whispers in a breaking voice, “I don’t want to die without knowing you are mine.”
But she tells him that he must leave the Own if they were to get married, and that she never wants to force him to make that kind of choice. “Besides,” she adds, “what will you do all day without your squad? Sit around on Masbolle land and do nothing but paperwork and inventory. You would hate yourself every day.”
“I would join the army,” he says determinedly, and Kel relishes the idea only briefly before shaking her head.
“It would be a step down in honour,” she says quietly. “After so much work in the Own, you will be relegated to private under the command of a commoner you will despise, and it will kill you. I know it would.”
Now he is desperate but Kel touches his face with both her hands, and he holds her as tightly to his body as he is able. “I have seen the wives of knights who must stay behind as their husbands ride to face death, men who have a small chance of returning sound in body and mind. I have seen how it rips them apart, how they wait every day for some news, some small message, that they are not waiting in vain.” She meets his eyes, and she says, “I would be riding to face my death, and you would be left waiting. That is not a life I would wish for us.”
So Kel spends her days with Wyldon and her nights with Dom, always working toward what she believes is a better cause. They will win this war somehow – she can’t see it, but she feels it in her heart. Tortall is a nation that has a core of steel, and that steel centre is made up of the knights of the realm. We are mighty she believes and so we will win.
One night after she has given her tea to Wyldon as he sits at his desk, he takes her hand before she can move away. “Keladry,” he rasps, and it has been only a year but he looks so much older now than he did when she was first assigned to Mastiff.
In a mixture of admiration for the fight he puts up and pity for the hope in his heart she knows is crumbling – it is falling apart in her heart, too – she rests a hand on the side of his head and kisses his crown, and his grip tightens on her wrist and he is so warm and smells like horses and physical labour and the woods, so she lowers her face and kisses his cheek. She knows what she is doing, and when she kisses his mouth, it is feather soft until his hand drops from hers and she pulls away.
They are both breathing heavily, and while Wyldon doesn’t say anything, Kel knows what he is thinking. She straightens, and she doesn’t know how her voice remains so even as she says, “Good night, sir,” and leaves.
Dom is waiting outside of headquarters, sitting on the step outside the entrance with his head in his hands. As Kel comes out, he rises, and frowns at her. Self-consciously, Kel touches her hair – which isn’t mussed – and her cheeks – perhaps a bit flushed, but it is dark outside and so she’s certain he can’t tell.
“I’m leaving at first light,” Dom says abruptly, and Kel stares at him. “Our Company has been summoned south,” he adds, “and the Second will be taking over here.”
Despite herself, Kel glances over her shoulder as she walks with Dom, hand in hand, back into camp, away from her rooms and to the tent that they have been sharing for many days. She peers up at the one lit window in headquarters, and she imagines to herself that she can see Wyldon’s outline, back straight as he finishes his paperwork for the evening.
“We’ll be all right,” she murmurs, and Dom squeezes her hand.
“I’ll come back for you,” he promises, but Kel knows that even if he doesn’t, she’ll be all right.