I was rereading Squire this
morning, and I couldn’t help notice the Midwinter theme in the Kel/Cleon
relationship. And I was always sad
thinking that he never knew that she didn’t love him anymore (which probably made
it harder to get over her). So this is
my own twist on how they might begin to start over again, a year after the
events of Lady Knight.
Tortall and its inhabitants
belong to Tamora Pierce, and are used with her direct permission.
**special thank you to
Shibhon, who pointed out a most horrible flaw.
I’ve altered the fic to correct it. :D
December, 462, H.E.
The Midwinter Festivals
were well under way in Corus when Kel finally rode in from New Hope. The roads were awful--she could blame some of
her lateness on that fact, at least.
But there had also been a group of raiders near Bearsford, and Kel had
felt the need to help the Queen’s Rabbits deal with them. She left the legal portion--the courts and
the hangings--to the Rider group: Kel was not one to find joy in marching
bandits to their deaths. But it had
taken several days, just the same, to get back on track.
The lady knight rode
alone. Tobe, to his chagrin, had
slipped into an apprenticeship of sorts with Daine, the Wildmage. He was learning veterinary care; it was a
worthy skill to learn, Kel reminded him, while he was looking out for her
safety in New Hope. Kel grinned wryly,
thinking of the boy. Getting him to
agree to stay behind was like pulling teeth.
He had hinted to her several
times that traveling in numbers was safer, and that he was the ideal person to
look after her and her mount. But Kel
wanted solitude. Even Jump and the
sparrows acknowledged her need, and stayed behind with the boy
Kel brought Hoshi into the
palace yard, and assisted Stefan the hostler in making the mare
comfortable. She knew that plenty of
nobles liked to leave their horses completely in his care, but Kel was too
attached.
Stefan finally had to force
her out the stables, throwing her heavy pack into her arms. “Lady, you smell. Go take a bath and meet with your knight-friends. They’re preparing for the nightly
festivities.”
Kel laughed and
obeyed. She found her way to the palace
baths and made quick work of removing several days’ worth of traveling-grime. This was not the part of being a knight that
she enjoyed. She liked the justice, the
honest living, the Code of Chivalry. It
was strange, to her, to think of the many knights who did not like or follow
the Code. Sir Myles of Olau, her former
teacher, had oft mentioned the ridiculous expectations the Code forced upon
pages and squires, and even knights.
And Kel had met plenty of squires and knights who did not even attempt
to follow the code, instead enjoying their life of leisure and noble
benefits. They did not protect their
tenants, nor did they support the crown they had sworn fealty to.
Kel could feel her own
anger rising. Too often she had met
knights and lords who did not care for their people. As much as she wanted them brought to their knees, she feared
that perhaps one day their own tenants would turn against them--and the
crown. So long as the king let his
nobles take advantage of the people, the people could blame the king for their woes. Kel wanted to fix the problems, not
overthrow the monarchy.
She slipped beneath the
surface of the water, rinsing her hair and washing away her worries. It was Midwinter--a time to celebrate the
oncoming year. Not to question the policies
of the crown, or focus on her solitude.
There were to many things to celebrate.
***
Midwinter was special this
year. There was a greater sense of
liveliness in the kingdom--mainly due to the celebrations of Prince Roald and
Princess Shinkokami’s new parenthood. A
son, Seiji, had been born on the first day of the weeklong festival. This brought a renewed love of the monarchy:
Seiji’s birth confirmed another generation in the Conté dynasty. Conservatives, always looking to complain
about the Progressive royal family, strongly opposed the Yamani name for the
newborn, but Kel couldn’t think of a better name for the child than one that
meant “justice.”
Kel was granted permission
to visit Shinko in the royal family’s quarters, and took great pleasure in
meeting the future ruler of Tortall.
Shinko, unfortunately, had missed out on most of the festivities. But Roald had stayed with her whenever
possible.
The Conté colors, ever
present in the palace, now took the form of silk bows on the doors--a tradition
for celebrating newborn noble children.
Along with the traditional black velvet, ivy, and white garlands for the
Midwinter holiday, the palace looked even more luxurious than usual. Kel found her way to the squire’s wing,
hoping to meet some of the squires who had not yet been chosen by knight-masters,
but they were absent--no doubt working under Master Oakbridge, even if it were
the pages who’d be doing the serving.
The final feast of
Midwinter was nearly finished, Kel realized, when she neared the hall. It would be followed by the traditional ball. It wasn’t a knightly obligation that made
Kel return to the palace. No, like her
former knight-master, she tended to stay away from balls and festivals if she
had the choice.
But many things had
happened in the past twelve months.
Neal and Yukimi were married, Merric of Hollyrose had left New Hope to
become an assistant training master.
Domitan of Masbolle had become a captain of the First Company of the
King’s Own a year after Glaisdan of Haryse’s death. And where was Kel?
Happily content in New Hope, managing border patrols and refugees. Though the war with Scanra was long over,
there were still many problems to be solved.
Scanra was no longer united--but they still suffered hardships, and
plenty of the clans felt that raiding Tortall for food and amenities would ease
that hardship.
“You made it.” Kel felt a hand placed gently on her lower
back, and knew it to be Dom. He was
the only one who treated her less like a knight and more like a lady these days. Not that she minded. He was very attractive, and very nice. They’d been through a lot together, off and
on the battlefield.
She nodded. “I was delayed in Bearsford.”
“I know. Bandits.
Sir Owen has been lamenting that he was unable to make it in time.” Dom grinned, and Kel felt warmth spread
through her body. His smile could melt
even the frostiest heart. “Shall we
proceed to the ball? It began moments
ago. I note that you took the time to
pack an extraordinary gown.”
Kel blushed, looking down
at the black velvet and crimson creation Lalasa had prepared for her. “No, it was waiting for me. I have friends in high places.” As usual, it fit perfectly. She had even sewn tiny pearls into the wide
cuffs of the velvet overrobe, making Kel feel brave enough to actually enter
the ballroom. “Shall we go, then?”
The receiving line was
tapering, so Kel took her place at the end.
More people filed in behind her.
It was customary for everyone to wish the king and queen a happy
forthcoming year, but normally the lines were no longer necessary by the last
night of festivities. The birth of a
first grandchild, however, made every noble in the realm wait their turn in
line to congratulate the handsome couple.
Kel wasn’t much interested in “foot-kissing”, as Raoul had once called
the experience, but she had been on friendly terms with the queen for some
time, and felt that she would’ve liked to say hello, grandchild or none.
“Sir Keladry of Mindelan,
and Captain Domitan of Masbolle,” the herald announced as Kel and Dom
approached the dias. She took the
king’s hand first, kneeling in a bow of fealty. Then she wordlessly moved on to the queen. She had never been on good terms with the
king, for all her loyalty to his crown.
She took Queen Thayet’s hand and kissed it respectfully, as any knight
would.
“This isn’t you favorite
part of knighthood, is it Sir Keladry?” the beautiful queen asked dryly.
Kel smiled. “Nor is this your favorite part of being the
queen?”
The older woman smiled back
at her. “We have much in common, Lady
Knight. We’d rather forego the courtly
obligations and head straight to the justice and well-doing. Am I right?” Her eyes crinkled with fondness.
Although she was in her forties, she still carried an air of
youthfulness in her manner.
“Exactly,” Kel agreed. She wished the pair luck and happiness, as
well as congratulations on the prince’s child.
Then, feeling somewhat relieved, she found her way over to the giant
windows on the opposite side of the room, where she could see the wintry
gardens outside, and speak softly with Neal and Yukimi. Dom followed, but only to hand her a glass
of the almond milk and liquer combination he knew she loved. Then he went on to find his friends from
the Own.
The receiving line
continued on. Kel waited patiently for
it to end, knowing that no serious socializing could be done until the dancing
commenced. But toward the end of the
line, a name caught her attention. “Sir
Cleon and Lady Ermelian of Kennan,” the herald announced. Kel turned to see the large red-headed knight
bowing before the king, his wife curtseying low. She was adorable and tiny, with light brown curls piled atop her
head and large blue eyes that never left the king’s face, even in her modest
bow.
Kel felt a moment of
wistfulness. She’d been relieved when
Cleon had informed her of his impending marriage--relieved that he’d never have
to know that she’d wanted to end it, that she’d fallen out of love with
her. He was forced to marry her to save
his fief after drastic flooding, and she had been a little happier to know that
he liked Ermelian, that she was a good sort as far as arranged marriages
went. But Cleon had voiced a stronger
opinion: She just isn’t you. She
had wept for his unhappiness, even in her relief. They said they would remain friends, but distance and history
kept them from actually being friends.
She studied the pair
closely, looking for signs of close affection or noteworthy distance between
them. Were they happy together? Were they dissatisfied? From all appearances they looked like every
other married couple in the room, save Neal and Yukimi, who--after nearly a
year of marriage--still could not keep their eyes away from each other.
Kel felt Dom at her side
again. “Wasn’t he the one. . . ?” He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Neal and Yuki exchanged knowing glances, and
moved on to other friends with whom they could socialize.
Kel nodded. “Before I won my shield. He was my girlhood sweetheart.” She tried to smile, but she was still
worried for his happiness.
“You’re looking sad,” Dom
observed. “Did you part on bad
terms?” They had talked frankly in the
past about Dom’s love life, but Kel kept hers guarded. She was less open than he, and it had never
hindered their friendship.
She shrugged, her eyes still
focused on Lady Ermelian. “They weren’t
bad terms. Things had changed, he had
duties to perform. And we both were in
different places in our lives.”
“Looks like he was ready to
move on to something more serious,” Dom observed. “How long have they been married? A year and a half?”
“About that long. It was arranged, though. They were betrothed since they were
children.”
“And you were the other
woman?” Dom said, his eyes twinkling wickedly.
“Stop nosing around and
let’s dance,” Kel said, glad the music had finally begun. She handed her goblet to a passing page and
pulled Dom into a minuet.
Although Kel wasn’t
necessarily a fan of dancing, she always found that she could learn much about
her companions through the formality of the art. Neal and Yuki, for example, looked crestfallen during the steps
that forced them into the arms of other lords and ladies. Dom, on the other hand, grew livelier with
each new partner. Kel observed that
Cleon and Ermelian fit neither pattern, but they conversed in low voices when
they were together. For some reason
this made her happier.
Halfway through the second
dance, Kel gladly shifted away from King Jonathan and into the arms of
Cleon. He did not react to her in any
manner, which made her suspect that he had taken notice of her all ready.
“She’s lovely,” Kel said
hesitantly as Cleon circled her, as the dance steps dictated.
He released her hand and
smiled, looking as though he was glad that she’d immediately approached the
subject. “Yes. But she’s short.”
Kel laughed, gripping his
hands tightly as they promenaded in a short circle with the other dancers. Cleon always said that he loved not having
to bend in two to kiss her.
Cleon smiled. “Then again, she’s worth it.”
“Everything is well, then?”
she asked, softly.
He looked over to his
dancing wife. “As well as can be. She managed to ease my breaking heart--and
she had one of her own as well, I suspect.”
“Really?” Kel stopped
short, breaking the flow of the dance.
During all of her sympathy for Cleon, she’d never thought that maybe
Ermelian had felt the similar woes of loving someone futily.
“She’s never said so,” he
sighed. “But I suspect it. She’s not exactly a traditional noblewoman,
and she’s a hopeless romantic.”
Kel laughed. “Perfect.
So you both can swoon and call each other pearls of your hearts.”
He grinned back. “Yes.
Now that we’ve eased each other’s torment, and found a happy state of
wedded bliss.”
The music ended, and they
walked out of the circle of dancers, who were preparing for a lively
gavotte. Cleon stopped a red and
gold-clad page and obtained two drinks.
He and Kel sat together, catching up on the past two years of their
lives. Kel liked to see how often his
eyes drifted toward his small wife, who was blossoming under the polite
attention of the king.
“Let’s have a toast,” Cleon
said, holding his wine glass aloft. Kel
followed suit. “To old friends and
revised friendships.”
“To old friends and revised
friendships,” Kel answered, smiling wistfully.
“And to Midwinter
luck.” Cleon clinked his goblet with
hers, and gave her a brief, friendly kiss.
With that, he rose and finished his wine, then returned to claim his
wife for the next gavotte.
“And what was that?” Dom
asked, approaching silently.
Kel nearly jumped. “Just a toast.”
“With a kiss?” Dom arched one eyebrow,
Kel studied her wine glass,
remembering her first kiss with Cleon. Midwinter luck, Kel. “Consider it a full circle,” she said with a soft smile. “He was wishing me Midwinter luck.” She felt more at ease with herself than she
had during the year and a half since their break-up.
Dom grinned, happy to see
the light back in her eyes. “And do you
think this Midwinter will be lucky?”
She grinned back at him. “Most certainly,” she replied, taking his hand and leading him back to the horde of noble dancers.