Post by Alliecat on Jan 4, 2013 16:29:40 GMT 10
To: Cass
Message: I eternally suck. You, on the other hand, are the patientest, bestest, prettiest, coolest, amazingest person ever. Thank you for being patient with me! ♥ ♥ ♥ I can’t say this is a Hannukah gift, or a Christmas gift, or even a New Years gift I’m so late, so let’s just say it’s a gift for you being eternally fabulous.
From: Allie, aka officially the worst Ficmas gifter ever.
Title: Otherside
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3965
Prompt: 1. Kel/Raoul
Summary: It’s not the ending, but the journey to the otherside that may end us before we begin. But when we do make it, it is worth our while.
A/N: I kinda wanted to name this Thrift Shop because that song is stuck in my head. But my better judgment prevailed. Instead I named it after another Macklemore song. Clearly I am super original. We can add that to my list of sins.
“Come to say goodbye to your old man, have you?” calls a familiar voice. Raoul, still astride his horse, approaches Kel, who’s been waiting for him beside the stables. Her back is pressed up against the wood of the building and her new shield rests on the ground beside her. She smiles gently. “You’re not that old.”
“Try telling my bones that.” He dismounts, and right on cue his knees crack. Kel remains silent while he leads his horse to the water trough. Then, almost abruptly, “So this is it?”
Raoul straightens. “For now,” he says softly. There’s a moment of stillness and Raoul shifts awkwardly. Then, his voice crackling slightly, “You won’t leave that shield alone for a moment, will you?”
Kel smiles sheepishly and picks it up. “I’m only off to get it fitted properly. They’re not used to making these for new lady knights.”
“I’m sure,” he says. There’s another moment of awkwardness, then Raoul hauls Kel in for a hug, forcing her to drop the shield. “I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” she murmurs, returning the embrace. She pulls back just slightly. “I hope to see you soon.”
Raoul releases her, his big arms returning to his sides. “The Own and I are scheduled to be back in Corus before the snow melts.” He pauses to grin. “But I’m sure by then you’ll be off somewhere doing greater things than the rest of us.”
Kel smiles and reaches up for another hug. “Take care of yourself, will you?”
Nestled deep in the winding streets of Corus and well hidden from the Midwinter mayhem in the palace, Kel and Raoul meet for lunch. With the two of them laughing about stories from their adventures, it’s as if no time has passed since Kel’s squire years.
“Did I tell you about my refugee suitor?” Kel asks, a sparkle in her eye.
Raoul’s fist clenches momentarily and he raises his eyebrows. “A suitor, you tell me?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Oh yes. He was quite persistent.” Kel pauses, grinning. “He was also five.”
Raoul exhales and chuckles. “Was he charming?”
Kel nods seriously and starts reaching into her pocket. “Very much so. Actually, I think I have…aha!” She pulls out a shiny flat rock and hands it to Raoul. “His early Midwinter gift to me. He wanted it to be an engagement gift, but I refused.”
“Keladry of Mindelan: Heart Breaker,” Raoul booms in a deep, serious tone. Kel whacks his shoulder gently and he smiles. “It’s a very nice stone. Boy has good taste.”
“He’ll make a good father someday,” Kel murmurs, leaning back in her seat.
“Thanks to you,” Raoul offers. Kel looks at him questioningly. “Because of you and your camps, that boy and hundreds others will have new, rich lives full of possibility.”
Kel blushes. “If I hadn’t run the camps, someone else would’ve.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Don’t cut yourself short.” Kel’s cheeks redden again and she stays silent. “You’ve had a hell of a career already, haven’t you?” Raoul presses.
Kel shrugs sheepishly. “I love working with the refugees, don’t get me wrong, but I feel too young to be completely tied down. I’m ready for something new. I’ve found new people to run the camps, knights Lord Wyldon would approve of. Now I just have to...” She trails off.
“Find what’s next?” Raoul prompts.
“Yeah.”
“Funny you should say...” Raoul says, and pulls out some parchment. “Third Company is missing its captain. I think you’d fit the bill.”
“Captain?” Kel squeaks. “Isn’t that too—”
“You’ve earned it,” Raoul interrupts. “You’ve proved yourself time and time again.”
“I’m too young!”
“Young means nimble. The captain for First Company is only twenty-seven,” Raoul points out.
“I’m much younger than that. And I’m a woman!”
“There’s no rule against women in the Own.”
“But there’s never been a woman before. It’s obvious no one wants—”
“Nonsense. You rode with us and no one—no one who mattered—cared.”
“Raoul. I have no experience in the Own.”
“You rode with us, so you know how things work. Up north you led dozens of soldiers in difficult situations.” Raoul pauses and allows himself a smile. “And you were trained by me, so we know you’re the best.” He squeezes her hand. “I can teach you all the details. I know you’re the one for the job. Take it.”
Kel pauses, letting what Raoul said sink in. Finally she lifts her head and sighs. “Raoul. I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.” He pulls a pen from his bag. “Sign.”
Kel, still scrambling for words, takes the pen, and after pausing once, with her palms pressed together as if in prayer, scribbles her name.
“Almost ready, Captain Keladry?” Raoul asks.
Kel looks up from the pile of gear she had been logging. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” she says.
“You better,” he says, a devilish grin on his face. “You have a hundred men waiting at your beck and call.”
“Don’t give me a panic attack.” She reaches into the pile of armor, pulls out a gauntlet, and places it with its partner.
“You’ve got this,” Raoul murmurs and reaches over with both hands to rub Kel’s shoulders. She sighs as he begins to knead one of her knots.
“When do we leave?” she asks, her eyelids falling.
“You have about three hours. I know Jon wanted us on the road early this morning, but the simple truth is we won’t be ready until early afternoon.”
“Okay,” she says, and it takes almost all of her willpower to step away from his strong hands. “I’ll be out on the field in twenty minutes.”
Raoul nods and squeezes her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll be great.”
Above her head a hawk screeches, and Kel peers upward. She’s perched in a tree with her legs dangling just above the ground, a few hundred yards outside the King’s Own camp. Leaning forward to rest her chin on another branch, Kel finds not smooth wood but a pile of sap. Surprised and annoyed, she disentangles herself from the tree and searches for a leaf to wipe her face with.
As she leans over a burst of laughter startles her and she looks towards the camp. The fire at the center of the men glows brightly in the twilight and Raoul stands beside it. The Own watches him as he speaks, and from the grins and obscene gestures they offer it’s clear Raoul tells stories, not orders. Raoul tosses his head back in laughter and Kel can tell it’s one of his favorites.
Kel stands silent, enjoying the sounds of nature and the muffled laughter, but the promise of warmth and cheer draws her in. She begins her descent toward camp, taking care not to trip on the uneven hillside. She watches Raoul’s face as she walks, mesmerized by the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.
He is handsome, she muses. The way his black hair curls over his forehead, his strong, straight nose, his muscular body. These thoughts, thoughts of pursuing the very relationship that many had used to soil her name, are electric.
As Kel breaches the edge of the camp, Raoul notices her. He raises his glass and winks, a full smile on his face. Kel smiles back and offers a half wave. She steps forward again, but a wave of desire rocks through her and she freezes. Pretending she left something behind, she runs from the camp back to her tree.
There is too much history here, too much honor for her to destroy because of simple lust.
Kel , arms full of maps, letters, and parchment, enters Raoul’s command tent. She coughs once, then starts, “Raoul, I was wondering about the defense strategy,” but stops dead when she sees Raoul’s stunned face. “What’s wrong?” she asks. He’s leaning against the front of his table, as if he no longer possesses the strength to hold himself up.
Silently, he holds up a letter and Kel crosses the tent to take it. “Buri,” he stammers. “She was killed.”
Kel whitens. “Oh no,” she murmurs, the letter dangling at her side.
Raoul, eyes red and downcast, shrugs. “They say,” he points at the letter, “it was bandits." He pauses, drawing a shaky breath. “But she was always so careful, so strong.”
Kel reaches forward and embraces Raoul, his cheek resting atop her head. He begins to weep, his body shuddering with each breath he takes. “I’m so, so sorry,” she murmurs. “I loved Buri too. We all did.”
“I’ve decided to head back to Corus for the funeral,” Raoul tells Kel the following morning. “You’ll be fine without me here?”
Kel nods. “Of course. Take care of what you need to.” She embraces Raoul. “I’m still so sorry.”
Raoul rubs Kel’s back. “I’ll—we’ll—get through this.” He pulls back. “I’ll see you soon.”
Kel nods and releases Raoul completely. “Give Buri’s family my best.”
Kel pours alcohol over her cuts, wincing as the clear liquid soaks her angry etched skin. The Own’s scuffle with Gallans that morning had been quick and painless, with only Kel and two others receiving any injuries at all. After being teased mercilessly for not dispatching her opponent immediately, Kel led Third Company back to their campground. As she’s rolling a bandage around her arm, she hears the men shout at the arrival of a messenger.
There’s some letters for the men, and smiles at word from home are abundant. Kel herself brightens when she’s handed a letter, and positively grins when she sees the Goldenlake seal.
Kel,
I hope all is well. The palace is fine, though I do feel that if I spend any more time amongst these dull conservatives I may go mad. While I would love to ride and join you, Jon is insistent that I wait here. There are some tedious meetings in the next weeks he considers positively vital. (In my opinion, what kind of king is he if he can’t hold his own damn meetings?)
As for orders, don’t stray too far from the border. There are rumors that Galla is plotting a serious invasion, though I personally don’t think their royalty has the courage. Stay safe and I’ll see you within two months.
Don’t let the boys give you too much trouble,
Raoul
“Twenty miles to Corus, boys!” Kel shouts at her men, and is answered by a chorus of whooping. Riding beside her, Dom grins. “Excited to go home?” he asks.
“I like the road,” Kel replies. “But yes. I could use a warm bath.”
He tilts his head. “Are you sure that’s it? Not just because you’re tired of us?”
Kel puts up a show of mock horror. “Never! I adore you all.”
Dom winks. “While I would like to believe that’s true, you’re positively glowing. Are you sure there’s nothing more than hot water waiting for you in Corus?”
Kel shakes her head. “Family, I suppose.”
“Ahh, family. What I consider the bane of my existence.” He pauses and smirks. “There’s not a man at home, is there?”
Kel blushes slightly. “Of course not,” she says, but her heart beats a little faster. She urges her horse ahead of Dom, eager to drop the conversation.
As she tucks her mount into the stable, Kel cannot help but feel relieved to be back on the solid ground of the palace. She picks up her things, chain mail still weighing heavily on her shoulders, and goes to the head of the stable. She clears her throat and then announces, “The sentry has informed the palace of our arrival, and the mess is expecting us within the hour. Be fast please, because I’d like us to enjoy a real hot meal, not a cold one.”
As she’s leaving the stables she bumps into a familiar figure. “Raoul,” she says, smiling upwards.
“Hello,” he replies, embracing her. He releases her and pulls a face. “I’m sorry to do this just after you got off your horse, but could you come look at some maps with me? Jonathan has been nagging me to design our next border patrols and I’d like your advice before dinner.”
She nods. “Of course,” she says, and follows him out of the stables. “So how did you know we were back so quickly?”
Raoul chuckles. “Dear, I told the guards to inform me the moment anyone could spot your shield on the horizon. There was no way you were getting inside the gates without my knowledge.”
“Are you going to the ball this evening?” Raoul asks Kel over lunch.
Kel shrugs. “I imagine you’re being forced to attend.” Raoul nods and grimaces, and she laughs. "I haven’t decided. I don’t particularly want to go, but I know nearly everyone will be there.”
“Everyone and their aunt,” Raoul grumbles. “Mine will be.”
Kel winces in sympathy. “How has she been since Buri’s passing?” she asks tentatively. It’s the first time they’ve breached the topic since Raoul left for Corus nearly four months ago.
Raoul draws a long sigh. “At first she was fine. The service was lovely, and she was in attendance. But in the last month she’s been back to her old ways, nagging me to find a new wife.” Raoul clunks his mug of coffee on the table. “I am in no way even going to consider a new wife.” He pauses and takes a long draught. “But she thinks that unreasonable.” His voice is acidic, and Kel winces.
“Is there any way to make her…” Kel trails off when she sees Raoul’s expression.
“I’ve asked her to stop involving herself in my private life dozens of times. Nothing has ever worked, and I doubt it ever will.”
Kel is silent for a moment, watching Raoul’s empty hand resting on the table. Finally she reaches out and grabs it. “I’ll be there tonight. Dance with me to keep your great aunt away.” She pauses and brushes her thumb over his knuckles. “No one should have to deal with anything like her so soon after…so soon after tragedy.”
“I wish you’d told me earlier,” Lalasa moans when Kel informs her that she’ll be going to the ball in two hours. “Of course I can fix the rip in time,” she quickly adds. “But I could have made you something special.”
Kel hugs her friend. “I don’t need anything special. This dress will do just fine.”
Lalasa scoffs quietly and pulls out her periwinkle thread. “Are you hoping to meet a gentleman tonight?” she asks. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you are definitely past the traditional marrying age. Not that traditional is best, I understand that well, but…” she trails off, blushing.
Kel smiles. “Tradition has never suited me well.”
Lalasa returns the smile. “True. But is there a man on the horizon?”
Kel tilts her head to the side, pausing. “Perhaps,” she says finally. “But I doubt that we would ever marry.”
“Your aunt hasn’t approached you, has she?” Kel asks Raoul whilst they waltz.
“No,” he says, dipping her, “But don’t you leave my side.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good,” he says, smiling. “But let us talk of happier things. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“Yes,” Kel says, returning the smile, “But if we run out of things to talk about you could always remind you.”
“I’m reminding you now.”
“And I,” Kel pauses to spin away, and then back against Raoul, “am reminding you how dashing you look tonight.”
“Lady Keladry,” he says, winking, “You are too kind.”
For being such a broken man, Raoul is in surprisingly good spirits, and Kel cannot help but find his cheer attractive. He sips a glass of wine, a rarity for him. While Kel would normally be alarmed at his consuming any spirits, tonight he laughs at her jokes, makes quips about the other guests, and wears the brightest grin she has seen on him all year.
A new pint of mulled cider is placed upon their table, and Kel pours herself a small glass. She offers it to Raoul, but he waves it away. “The wine is enough for me,” he says.
Kel nods and takes a sip. “Are you sure? It’s quite good.”
“Perhaps later.” He pauses to scan the crowd. “Oh look. There’s Dom. I think that’s the seventh lady he’s danced with all night.”
“He must be gunning to make it a full dozen,” Kel says, sipping her cider.
“Oh no, he’s much more ambitious than that. I reckon his goal is twenty five by midnight.” He pauses and takes a swig. “But I bet he’ll only make it to nineteen tonight.” Raoul looks at Kel. “Come on now, what’s your bet?”
Kel swirls the liquid in her mug. “Twenty-one,” she says finally. “Not that I’ll be here by midnight. I’ll be in bed for sure.”
“You can’t yet know what the night will hold,” Raoul says, raising an eyebrow. He raises his glass to his lips, but freezes. “Oh look! It’s Owen of Jesslaw. I haven’t seen that boy in ages. Wyldon’s really gotten him to trim down, hasn’t he? He’s really looking very—oh dear.” Raoul and Kel wince as a large crash is heard throughout the hall, followed by a grunt as Margarry hauls her husband to his feet.
The finished pitchers of cider and wine decorate their table as trophies, and Kel’s head is more than muddled. Looking at the pyramid before them, Kel giggles. “I think we ought to stop,” she tells Raoul.
Raoul’s arm lies draped around her shoulders, his other hand tapping idly on the edge of his empty glass. “That is probably a good idea,” he murmurs. “But a boring one.” His fingers brush against her cheek. “And you, my dear, are anything but boring.”
A servant, holding a tray laden with pitchers of alcohol, passes the table. “Any more, milord?”
Raoul looks at Kel, who picks up her mug and offers it to the servant. “Fill this, please,” she says. “But don’t leave the pitcher.”
The servant nods and fills the cup, placing it on the table and Raoul offers the boy a coin. “When we finish this we’ll—”
“Dance?” Kel interrupts.
Raoul shakes his head and chuckles. “If I try to dance right now I think I would disgrace myself before all of Tortall.”
“I don’t think all of Tortall is here.”
“Jon is here,” Raoul says. “Doesn’t he count for half the country?”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. He counts for like,” Kel pauses, pretending to seriously ponder the question, “one-fifth.”
Raoul grins. “Of course, one-fifth. I don’t know how I could be so silly.”
Kel takes a large gulp from the cup. “You were telling me what we were going to do?”
Raoul nods. “Ahh, yes. I thought you might want to take a walk with me in the gardens. The moon is sure to be lovely.”
“Isn’t it cold?”
Raoul slides the glass toward himself and raises it. “Once we finish this, I doubt either of us will much feel the cold.” He takes a sip, then offers it to Kel. “Drink up sweetheart.”
“Okay, it’s still a little chilly,” Raoul admits when they reach the palace gardens.
Kel laughs. “It’s not that bad,” she says, but when she exhales her breath is clear against the night sky.
“We have the place to ourselves,” Raoul points out. “What would you like to do? Yodel? Dance on the royal benches?”
“Neither, I think. After all, you did say that dancing would be a bad idea,” she says, and when she steps forward she stumbles, right on cue. Raoul catches her, though he himself is forced to take an unsteady step backward. Slowly, he straightens, bringing her along with him.
“Careful,” he says chuckling. Kel is standing incredibly close, her right hand clutching his shoulder and her head tilted so that she is staring into his deep black eyes. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice deeper than normal.
“I’m fine,” Kel says, but she makes no effort to move.
Raoul traces the line of her collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “Are you cold?” he asks quietly, his head still dropped and his mouth only inches from her ear.
“Not anymore,” Kel murmurs, finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe. Her left hand hangs limp at her side, but somehow she finds the strength to bring her palm flat against Raoul’s back. Raoul smiles slightly at her touch and presses her closer to him.
“Is this okay?” Raoul’s voice is near a whisper, and his breath tickles her neck. She nods slowly, shivers racing down her spine. Raoul moves in slowly, almost delicately, until his lips are pressed ever so gently against hers.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes wondering, before kissing Kel again. She can feel the want in him, the aggressive longing that she too sees in herself. When they pause, Kel giggles, the alcohol still flowing freely through her veins. “It is a little chilly,” she murmurs, her lips against his throat. “Can we go inside, back to your rooms maybe?”
From the glint in Raoul’s eyes, Kel knows she won’t be making it back to her bed tonight.
When Kel’s eyes crack open, sun is streaming in through the cracks of the curtains. Her head pounding, she moans slightly and rolls over. She sees Raoul standing a few feet away, his back to her. “Morning,” she croaks.
Raoul, smiling, comes to sit beside her. “Good morning,” he murmurs, and when he hands Kel a mug of tea, her hands tingle where they touch his.
They fall into each other’s arms for the second time after a full day of meetings. “You are the most beautiful thing known to man,” Raoul says, kissing Kel thoroughly.
She laughs, her face bright. “Anything looks beautiful after escaping meetings like those.”
Grinning, Raoul runs his nose along her neck. “Perhaps, but you are the most beautiful of all.”
She sighs at his touch. “You exaggerate,” she murmurs.
“Have I ever lied to you?” Kel scoffs, and he silences her with a kiss. “On second thought, don’t answer that.” Kel giggles, and reaches for another kiss.
“You look happy,” Lalasa tells Kel when they meet for afternoon tea.
“I suppose I am.”
Lalasa lifts her cup of tea to her nose and inhales deeply. “Any particular reason for that?” Kel shrugs, but a small blush taints her cheeks and Lalasa tilts her head. “Spill,” she urges. “I can tell when you’re hiding something.” She pauses, grinning. “Is it that man you were hoping to see at the ball?”
Kel’s blush deepens, but a grin spreads across her face as she looks at her tea. “Yes,” she says, looking up.
Lalasa claps excitedly. “And? Tell me!”
“We’ve been together twice.”
“Twice? Do you think you might have something?”
“Maybe,” Kel says, watching the hem of her dress flutter in the breeze. She looks back up at Lalasa, who’s grinning broadly. “Stop it!”
“Stop what? I only want you to be happy with a fine man.” She pauses, then frowns slightly. “You said you’re leaving with the Own in a week. Will that…hurt things between you?”
“You know,” Kel says, smiling, “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Message: I eternally suck. You, on the other hand, are the patientest, bestest, prettiest, coolest, amazingest person ever. Thank you for being patient with me! ♥ ♥ ♥ I can’t say this is a Hannukah gift, or a Christmas gift, or even a New Years gift I’m so late, so let’s just say it’s a gift for you being eternally fabulous.
From: Allie, aka officially the worst Ficmas gifter ever.
Title: Otherside
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3965
Prompt: 1. Kel/Raoul
Summary: It’s not the ending, but the journey to the otherside that may end us before we begin. But when we do make it, it is worth our while.
A/N: I kinda wanted to name this Thrift Shop because that song is stuck in my head. But my better judgment prevailed. Instead I named it after another Macklemore song. Clearly I am super original. We can add that to my list of sins.
:::Corus, 459 H.E.:::
“Come to say goodbye to your old man, have you?” calls a familiar voice. Raoul, still astride his horse, approaches Kel, who’s been waiting for him beside the stables. Her back is pressed up against the wood of the building and her new shield rests on the ground beside her. She smiles gently. “You’re not that old.”
“Try telling my bones that.” He dismounts, and right on cue his knees crack. Kel remains silent while he leads his horse to the water trough. Then, almost abruptly, “So this is it?”
Raoul straightens. “For now,” he says softly. There’s a moment of stillness and Raoul shifts awkwardly. Then, his voice crackling slightly, “You won’t leave that shield alone for a moment, will you?”
Kel smiles sheepishly and picks it up. “I’m only off to get it fitted properly. They’re not used to making these for new lady knights.”
“I’m sure,” he says. There’s another moment of awkwardness, then Raoul hauls Kel in for a hug, forcing her to drop the shield. “I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” she murmurs, returning the embrace. She pulls back just slightly. “I hope to see you soon.”
Raoul releases her, his big arms returning to his sides. “The Own and I are scheduled to be back in Corus before the snow melts.” He pauses to grin. “But I’m sure by then you’ll be off somewhere doing greater things than the rest of us.”
Kel smiles and reaches up for another hug. “Take care of yourself, will you?”
:::four years later:::
Nestled deep in the winding streets of Corus and well hidden from the Midwinter mayhem in the palace, Kel and Raoul meet for lunch. With the two of them laughing about stories from their adventures, it’s as if no time has passed since Kel’s squire years.
“Did I tell you about my refugee suitor?” Kel asks, a sparkle in her eye.
Raoul’s fist clenches momentarily and he raises his eyebrows. “A suitor, you tell me?” There’s a hint of surprise in his voice.
“Oh yes. He was quite persistent.” Kel pauses, grinning. “He was also five.”
Raoul exhales and chuckles. “Was he charming?”
Kel nods seriously and starts reaching into her pocket. “Very much so. Actually, I think I have…aha!” She pulls out a shiny flat rock and hands it to Raoul. “His early Midwinter gift to me. He wanted it to be an engagement gift, but I refused.”
“Keladry of Mindelan: Heart Breaker,” Raoul booms in a deep, serious tone. Kel whacks his shoulder gently and he smiles. “It’s a very nice stone. Boy has good taste.”
“He’ll make a good father someday,” Kel murmurs, leaning back in her seat.
“Thanks to you,” Raoul offers. Kel looks at him questioningly. “Because of you and your camps, that boy and hundreds others will have new, rich lives full of possibility.”
Kel blushes. “If I hadn’t run the camps, someone else would’ve.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Don’t cut yourself short.” Kel’s cheeks redden again and she stays silent. “You’ve had a hell of a career already, haven’t you?” Raoul presses.
Kel shrugs sheepishly. “I love working with the refugees, don’t get me wrong, but I feel too young to be completely tied down. I’m ready for something new. I’ve found new people to run the camps, knights Lord Wyldon would approve of. Now I just have to...” She trails off.
“Find what’s next?” Raoul prompts.
“Yeah.”
“Funny you should say...” Raoul says, and pulls out some parchment. “Third Company is missing its captain. I think you’d fit the bill.”
“Captain?” Kel squeaks. “Isn’t that too—”
“You’ve earned it,” Raoul interrupts. “You’ve proved yourself time and time again.”
“I’m too young!”
“Young means nimble. The captain for First Company is only twenty-seven,” Raoul points out.
“I’m much younger than that. And I’m a woman!”
“There’s no rule against women in the Own.”
“But there’s never been a woman before. It’s obvious no one wants—”
“Nonsense. You rode with us and no one—no one who mattered—cared.”
“Raoul. I have no experience in the Own.”
“You rode with us, so you know how things work. Up north you led dozens of soldiers in difficult situations.” Raoul pauses and allows himself a smile. “And you were trained by me, so we know you’re the best.” He squeezes her hand. “I can teach you all the details. I know you’re the one for the job. Take it.”
Kel pauses, letting what Raoul said sink in. Finally she lifts her head and sighs. “Raoul. I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything.” He pulls a pen from his bag. “Sign.”
Kel, still scrambling for words, takes the pen, and after pausing once, with her palms pressed together as if in prayer, scribbles her name.
:::one month later:::
“Almost ready, Captain Keladry?” Raoul asks.
Kel looks up from the pile of gear she had been logging. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” she says.
“You better,” he says, a devilish grin on his face. “You have a hundred men waiting at your beck and call.”
“Don’t give me a panic attack.” She reaches into the pile of armor, pulls out a gauntlet, and places it with its partner.
“You’ve got this,” Raoul murmurs and reaches over with both hands to rub Kel’s shoulders. She sighs as he begins to knead one of her knots.
“When do we leave?” she asks, her eyelids falling.
“You have about three hours. I know Jon wanted us on the road early this morning, but the simple truth is we won’t be ready until early afternoon.”
“Okay,” she says, and it takes almost all of her willpower to step away from his strong hands. “I’ll be out on the field in twenty minutes.”
Raoul nods and squeezes her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll be great.”
:::two weeks later:::
Above her head a hawk screeches, and Kel peers upward. She’s perched in a tree with her legs dangling just above the ground, a few hundred yards outside the King’s Own camp. Leaning forward to rest her chin on another branch, Kel finds not smooth wood but a pile of sap. Surprised and annoyed, she disentangles herself from the tree and searches for a leaf to wipe her face with.
As she leans over a burst of laughter startles her and she looks towards the camp. The fire at the center of the men glows brightly in the twilight and Raoul stands beside it. The Own watches him as he speaks, and from the grins and obscene gestures they offer it’s clear Raoul tells stories, not orders. Raoul tosses his head back in laughter and Kel can tell it’s one of his favorites.
Kel stands silent, enjoying the sounds of nature and the muffled laughter, but the promise of warmth and cheer draws her in. She begins her descent toward camp, taking care not to trip on the uneven hillside. She watches Raoul’s face as she walks, mesmerized by the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles.
He is handsome, she muses. The way his black hair curls over his forehead, his strong, straight nose, his muscular body. These thoughts, thoughts of pursuing the very relationship that many had used to soil her name, are electric.
As Kel breaches the edge of the camp, Raoul notices her. He raises his glass and winks, a full smile on his face. Kel smiles back and offers a half wave. She steps forward again, but a wave of desire rocks through her and she freezes. Pretending she left something behind, she runs from the camp back to her tree.
There is too much history here, too much honor for her to destroy because of simple lust.
:::one month later:::
Kel , arms full of maps, letters, and parchment, enters Raoul’s command tent. She coughs once, then starts, “Raoul, I was wondering about the defense strategy,” but stops dead when she sees Raoul’s stunned face. “What’s wrong?” she asks. He’s leaning against the front of his table, as if he no longer possesses the strength to hold himself up.
Silently, he holds up a letter and Kel crosses the tent to take it. “Buri,” he stammers. “She was killed.”
Kel whitens. “Oh no,” she murmurs, the letter dangling at her side.
Raoul, eyes red and downcast, shrugs. “They say,” he points at the letter, “it was bandits." He pauses, drawing a shaky breath. “But she was always so careful, so strong.”
Kel reaches forward and embraces Raoul, his cheek resting atop her head. He begins to weep, his body shuddering with each breath he takes. “I’m so, so sorry,” she murmurs. “I loved Buri too. We all did.”
:::one day later:::
“I’ve decided to head back to Corus for the funeral,” Raoul tells Kel the following morning. “You’ll be fine without me here?”
Kel nods. “Of course. Take care of what you need to.” She embraces Raoul. “I’m still so sorry.”
Raoul rubs Kel’s back. “I’ll—we’ll—get through this.” He pulls back. “I’ll see you soon.”
Kel nods and releases Raoul completely. “Give Buri’s family my best.”
:::two months later:::
Kel pours alcohol over her cuts, wincing as the clear liquid soaks her angry etched skin. The Own’s scuffle with Gallans that morning had been quick and painless, with only Kel and two others receiving any injuries at all. After being teased mercilessly for not dispatching her opponent immediately, Kel led Third Company back to their campground. As she’s rolling a bandage around her arm, she hears the men shout at the arrival of a messenger.
There’s some letters for the men, and smiles at word from home are abundant. Kel herself brightens when she’s handed a letter, and positively grins when she sees the Goldenlake seal.
Kel,
I hope all is well. The palace is fine, though I do feel that if I spend any more time amongst these dull conservatives I may go mad. While I would love to ride and join you, Jon is insistent that I wait here. There are some tedious meetings in the next weeks he considers positively vital. (In my opinion, what kind of king is he if he can’t hold his own damn meetings?)
As for orders, don’t stray too far from the border. There are rumors that Galla is plotting a serious invasion, though I personally don’t think their royalty has the courage. Stay safe and I’ll see you within two months.
Don’t let the boys give you too much trouble,
Raoul
:::six weeks later:::
“Twenty miles to Corus, boys!” Kel shouts at her men, and is answered by a chorus of whooping. Riding beside her, Dom grins. “Excited to go home?” he asks.
“I like the road,” Kel replies. “But yes. I could use a warm bath.”
He tilts his head. “Are you sure that’s it? Not just because you’re tired of us?”
Kel puts up a show of mock horror. “Never! I adore you all.”
Dom winks. “While I would like to believe that’s true, you’re positively glowing. Are you sure there’s nothing more than hot water waiting for you in Corus?”
Kel shakes her head. “Family, I suppose.”
“Ahh, family. What I consider the bane of my existence.” He pauses and smirks. “There’s not a man at home, is there?”
Kel blushes slightly. “Of course not,” she says, but her heart beats a little faster. She urges her horse ahead of Dom, eager to drop the conversation.
:::six hours later:::
As she tucks her mount into the stable, Kel cannot help but feel relieved to be back on the solid ground of the palace. She picks up her things, chain mail still weighing heavily on her shoulders, and goes to the head of the stable. She clears her throat and then announces, “The sentry has informed the palace of our arrival, and the mess is expecting us within the hour. Be fast please, because I’d like us to enjoy a real hot meal, not a cold one.”
As she’s leaving the stables she bumps into a familiar figure. “Raoul,” she says, smiling upwards.
“Hello,” he replies, embracing her. He releases her and pulls a face. “I’m sorry to do this just after you got off your horse, but could you come look at some maps with me? Jonathan has been nagging me to design our next border patrols and I’d like your advice before dinner.”
She nods. “Of course,” she says, and follows him out of the stables. “So how did you know we were back so quickly?”
Raoul chuckles. “Dear, I told the guards to inform me the moment anyone could spot your shield on the horizon. There was no way you were getting inside the gates without my knowledge.”
:::ten days later:::
“Are you going to the ball this evening?” Raoul asks Kel over lunch.
Kel shrugs. “I imagine you’re being forced to attend.” Raoul nods and grimaces, and she laughs. "I haven’t decided. I don’t particularly want to go, but I know nearly everyone will be there.”
“Everyone and their aunt,” Raoul grumbles. “Mine will be.”
Kel winces in sympathy. “How has she been since Buri’s passing?” she asks tentatively. It’s the first time they’ve breached the topic since Raoul left for Corus nearly four months ago.
Raoul draws a long sigh. “At first she was fine. The service was lovely, and she was in attendance. But in the last month she’s been back to her old ways, nagging me to find a new wife.” Raoul clunks his mug of coffee on the table. “I am in no way even going to consider a new wife.” He pauses and takes a long draught. “But she thinks that unreasonable.” His voice is acidic, and Kel winces.
“Is there any way to make her…” Kel trails off when she sees Raoul’s expression.
“I’ve asked her to stop involving herself in my private life dozens of times. Nothing has ever worked, and I doubt it ever will.”
Kel is silent for a moment, watching Raoul’s empty hand resting on the table. Finally she reaches out and grabs it. “I’ll be there tonight. Dance with me to keep your great aunt away.” She pauses and brushes her thumb over his knuckles. “No one should have to deal with anything like her so soon after…so soon after tragedy.”
:::three hours later:::
“I wish you’d told me earlier,” Lalasa moans when Kel informs her that she’ll be going to the ball in two hours. “Of course I can fix the rip in time,” she quickly adds. “But I could have made you something special.”
Kel hugs her friend. “I don’t need anything special. This dress will do just fine.”
Lalasa scoffs quietly and pulls out her periwinkle thread. “Are you hoping to meet a gentleman tonight?” she asks. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you are definitely past the traditional marrying age. Not that traditional is best, I understand that well, but…” she trails off, blushing.
Kel smiles. “Tradition has never suited me well.”
Lalasa returns the smile. “True. But is there a man on the horizon?”
Kel tilts her head to the side, pausing. “Perhaps,” she says finally. “But I doubt that we would ever marry.”
:::four hours later:::
“Your aunt hasn’t approached you, has she?” Kel asks Raoul whilst they waltz.
“No,” he says, dipping her, “But don’t you leave my side.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“Good,” he says, smiling. “But let us talk of happier things. Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“Yes,” Kel says, returning the smile, “But if we run out of things to talk about you could always remind you.”
“I’m reminding you now.”
“And I,” Kel pauses to spin away, and then back against Raoul, “am reminding you how dashing you look tonight.”
“Lady Keladry,” he says, winking, “You are too kind.”
:::thirty minutes later:::
For being such a broken man, Raoul is in surprisingly good spirits, and Kel cannot help but find his cheer attractive. He sips a glass of wine, a rarity for him. While Kel would normally be alarmed at his consuming any spirits, tonight he laughs at her jokes, makes quips about the other guests, and wears the brightest grin she has seen on him all year.
A new pint of mulled cider is placed upon their table, and Kel pours herself a small glass. She offers it to Raoul, but he waves it away. “The wine is enough for me,” he says.
Kel nods and takes a sip. “Are you sure? It’s quite good.”
“Perhaps later.” He pauses to scan the crowd. “Oh look. There’s Dom. I think that’s the seventh lady he’s danced with all night.”
“He must be gunning to make it a full dozen,” Kel says, sipping her cider.
“Oh no, he’s much more ambitious than that. I reckon his goal is twenty five by midnight.” He pauses and takes a swig. “But I bet he’ll only make it to nineteen tonight.” Raoul looks at Kel. “Come on now, what’s your bet?”
Kel swirls the liquid in her mug. “Twenty-one,” she says finally. “Not that I’ll be here by midnight. I’ll be in bed for sure.”
“You can’t yet know what the night will hold,” Raoul says, raising an eyebrow. He raises his glass to his lips, but freezes. “Oh look! It’s Owen of Jesslaw. I haven’t seen that boy in ages. Wyldon’s really gotten him to trim down, hasn’t he? He’s really looking very—oh dear.” Raoul and Kel wince as a large crash is heard throughout the hall, followed by a grunt as Margarry hauls her husband to his feet.
:::ninety minutes later:::
The finished pitchers of cider and wine decorate their table as trophies, and Kel’s head is more than muddled. Looking at the pyramid before them, Kel giggles. “I think we ought to stop,” she tells Raoul.
Raoul’s arm lies draped around her shoulders, his other hand tapping idly on the edge of his empty glass. “That is probably a good idea,” he murmurs. “But a boring one.” His fingers brush against her cheek. “And you, my dear, are anything but boring.”
A servant, holding a tray laden with pitchers of alcohol, passes the table. “Any more, milord?”
Raoul looks at Kel, who picks up her mug and offers it to the servant. “Fill this, please,” she says. “But don’t leave the pitcher.”
The servant nods and fills the cup, placing it on the table and Raoul offers the boy a coin. “When we finish this we’ll—”
“Dance?” Kel interrupts.
Raoul shakes his head and chuckles. “If I try to dance right now I think I would disgrace myself before all of Tortall.”
“I don’t think all of Tortall is here.”
“Jon is here,” Raoul says. “Doesn’t he count for half the country?”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. He counts for like,” Kel pauses, pretending to seriously ponder the question, “one-fifth.”
Raoul grins. “Of course, one-fifth. I don’t know how I could be so silly.”
Kel takes a large gulp from the cup. “You were telling me what we were going to do?”
Raoul nods. “Ahh, yes. I thought you might want to take a walk with me in the gardens. The moon is sure to be lovely.”
“Isn’t it cold?”
Raoul slides the glass toward himself and raises it. “Once we finish this, I doubt either of us will much feel the cold.” He takes a sip, then offers it to Kel. “Drink up sweetheart.”
:::fifteen minutes later:::
“Okay, it’s still a little chilly,” Raoul admits when they reach the palace gardens.
Kel laughs. “It’s not that bad,” she says, but when she exhales her breath is clear against the night sky.
“We have the place to ourselves,” Raoul points out. “What would you like to do? Yodel? Dance on the royal benches?”
“Neither, I think. After all, you did say that dancing would be a bad idea,” she says, and when she steps forward she stumbles, right on cue. Raoul catches her, though he himself is forced to take an unsteady step backward. Slowly, he straightens, bringing her along with him.
“Careful,” he says chuckling. Kel is standing incredibly close, her right hand clutching his shoulder and her head tilted so that she is staring into his deep black eyes. “Are you okay?” he murmurs, his voice deeper than normal.
“I’m fine,” Kel says, but she makes no effort to move.
Raoul traces the line of her collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “Are you cold?” he asks quietly, his head still dropped and his mouth only inches from her ear.
“Not anymore,” Kel murmurs, finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe. Her left hand hangs limp at her side, but somehow she finds the strength to bring her palm flat against Raoul’s back. Raoul smiles slightly at her touch and presses her closer to him.
“Is this okay?” Raoul’s voice is near a whisper, and his breath tickles her neck. She nods slowly, shivers racing down her spine. Raoul moves in slowly, almost delicately, until his lips are pressed ever so gently against hers.
He pulls back slightly, his eyes wondering, before kissing Kel again. She can feel the want in him, the aggressive longing that she too sees in herself. When they pause, Kel giggles, the alcohol still flowing freely through her veins. “It is a little chilly,” she murmurs, her lips against his throat. “Can we go inside, back to your rooms maybe?”
From the glint in Raoul’s eyes, Kel knows she won’t be making it back to her bed tonight.
:::twelve hours later:::
When Kel’s eyes crack open, sun is streaming in through the cracks of the curtains. Her head pounding, she moans slightly and rolls over. She sees Raoul standing a few feet away, his back to her. “Morning,” she croaks.
Raoul, smiling, comes to sit beside her. “Good morning,” he murmurs, and when he hands Kel a mug of tea, her hands tingle where they touch his.
:::two weeks later:::
They fall into each other’s arms for the second time after a full day of meetings. “You are the most beautiful thing known to man,” Raoul says, kissing Kel thoroughly.
She laughs, her face bright. “Anything looks beautiful after escaping meetings like those.”
Grinning, Raoul runs his nose along her neck. “Perhaps, but you are the most beautiful of all.”
She sighs at his touch. “You exaggerate,” she murmurs.
“Have I ever lied to you?” Kel scoffs, and he silences her with a kiss. “On second thought, don’t answer that.” Kel giggles, and reaches for another kiss.
:::one day later:::
“You look happy,” Lalasa tells Kel when they meet for afternoon tea.
“I suppose I am.”
Lalasa lifts her cup of tea to her nose and inhales deeply. “Any particular reason for that?” Kel shrugs, but a small blush taints her cheeks and Lalasa tilts her head. “Spill,” she urges. “I can tell when you’re hiding something.” She pauses, grinning. “Is it that man you were hoping to see at the ball?”
Kel’s blush deepens, but a grin spreads across her face as she looks at her tea. “Yes,” she says, looking up.
Lalasa claps excitedly. “And? Tell me!”
“We’ve been together twice.”
“Twice? Do you think you might have something?”
“Maybe,” Kel says, watching the hem of her dress flutter in the breeze. She looks back up at Lalasa, who’s grinning broadly. “Stop it!”
“Stop what? I only want you to be happy with a fine man.” She pauses, then frowns slightly. “You said you’re leaving with the Own in a week. Will that…hurt things between you?”
“You know,” Kel says, smiling, “I don’t think that will be a problem.”