Disclaimer: All this belongs to Tamora Pierce: characters, scenario, some of the dialogue even. This is just my take on it.
"Fighting What Has to Be"
By Katharine Ayn Sintonia
The green-eyed beauty held nothing for him anymore. Try as she might to seduce him, tonight her charms held little sway over him. But he still danced with her and still stole kisses in the middle of the ballroom. She still shot him smouldering looks that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He still caressed her when he thought no one was watching, despite how much he hated himself for it. I have to tear myself away, he thought bitterly. I can't keep sleeping with her. I'm destroying myself with this little game.
"Where are you going, Jonathan?" the stunning beauty asked quietly, her soft voice a suggestive purr in his ear. He was torn between the old attraction and the new will to change. I need to get out of here!
He gave her a half-smile. "I'll be back shortly, my Lady Delia. I just need a moment." I need Alanna.
She pouted, her green eyes narrowing slightly as the handsome prince walked away. But a moment passed, and she flounced back across the long terrace to the open ballroom.
Jonathan, however, walked out to the edge of the terrace, looking over the rose gardens. He sighed. "Alan" had left early that night, no doubt trying to distance herself from Delia. I must be a masochist, he thought bitterly, thinking of his torrid affair with the Lady. Delia means nothing to me, yet I've gotten myself completely entangled, while I treat her like she's only my squire…like she's only another one of my friends.
Movement in the rose gardens caught his eye. A Lady with raven hair strolled alone, gowned in a lovely violent dress. He raised an eyebrow at her odd gait. This woman was hardly delicate; she walked as though she were…
He stifled a laugh. That's my squire, indeed, he thought with a grin, heading back inside to make his excuses before stealing into the gardens himself. Now…if I know her… "Aha!" he said quietly, spying a cloak on a bench. He picked it up, waiting for her to return.
Alanna stopped when she saw him. "Hullo," he said in what he thought was a casual tone, although his heart was pounding. What's wrong with you, Jon? You can't even talk to a girl you've known for seven years?
"How did you know it was me, Jonathan?" She slid the wig from her flaming red locks, her face unreadable.
He couldn't bear it. She looked too beautiful, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from stepping close to her, taking her hand. "I guessed. And then I saw how you walked and I was sure." He stifled his laugh again.
She made a face, biting back a groan. "Mistress Cooper tries to cure me of walking like a boy, but it doesn't seem to take."
You're right, it doesn't, he thought. And I wouldn't have you any different than you are. He looked her over and spied a charm on a thin gold chain he'd never seen on her before. He lifted it carefully, ignoring the rush of heat through his veins when he touched her bare skin, and looked the charm over. "What's this?"
Alanna blushed, but he pretended not to notice. "It's a charm to—keep me from having children. Mistress Cooper gave it to me a—a long time ago." She stammered as she spoke, obviously embarrassed.
Jonathan didn't care. He'd waited too long for an opportunity and he'd be a fool to pass this up. "Have you ever tried it out?" he asked quietly, pulling her close with one arm. She put her arm up against his chest, and Jonathan silently of the gods. Please, don't let her push me away!
"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.
"This." Without thinking, he closed the distance between them and kissed her passionately, capturing her ripe ruby lips with his own. He showered her in feather light kisses, only to return again to her lips. Perhaps now she would realize she was far more than just his squire. His slightly trembling fingers found the laces to her bodice, and he pulled through them eagerly, bearing the rich curves of her breasts. He reached to bare more, to see more of her beautiful body.
She shoved him away. "No!" She pulled the laces, trying to hide what cleavage he'd exposed. "I was crazy to think—Jonathan, please!" Her hands trembled, and his heart went out to her. He carefully retied the laces, hating himself both for scaring her and for waiting to show her how much he cared. "You're fighting what has to be," he said as he looked her in the eye. "You know it as well as I do." He prayed fervently that he hadn't mistaken all he'd felt and ruined their friendship as well as any chance at a romance.
"I—I know no such thing. I promised myself once that I'd never love a man! Maybe I almost broke that promise just now because of moonlight and silliness—"
He was sick of hearing this. "Stop it." He took her chin and turned it back up to him, looking deep into her entrancing violet eyes. His thoughts poured forth. "We belong to each other. Is that silliness? Surely you've realized all along this had to happen." She didn't answer. Oh gods, I was wrong! He sighed, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. I was wrong…she doesn't care for me like that. "Go away, before I change my mind."
She ran away, and Jonathan bit his lower lip, sitting down unceremoniously on the bench. "Of all the women," he muttered, "I had to feel this way for her…the only one who can't give me that in return." He looked back to the gleaming lights of the ballroom. He could think of a dozen women who would gladly follow him back to his chambers that night to make love. "But I don't want them," he whispered. "I don't want something empty anymore."
He stood, looking up at the moonlight. "Goddess, give me strength enough for her." He walked away, leaving behind the rose garden and the ballroom. I've had enough of this. I need to sleep.
He quietly opened the door to his chambers, knowing that Alanna would be next door throwing a fit. He could just imagine her throwing her belongs around angrily, cursing his name and the day she accepted his offer to be his squire. "Happy birthday," he muttered sarcastically, suddenly remembering that today she turned seventeen. He sighed, sitting down on his bed and praying. What would you say, O gods, if I said I loved her! His blue eyes flew open. Love… He'd never dared to even think that he loved her. Oh, please, let her feel something. Let her realize that I've changed, and I just don't want one night of stupid, meaningless fun. I've had many stupid, meaningless nights, and I'm the worse for them. I want something that will last. He stood and moved to strip off his uncomfortable tunic, tossing it over into a corner. He sat back down on his bed, wishing things had gone differently in the garden.
A knock on the door between his and Alanna's rooms started him. "Jon?" He opened the door, scarcely daring to hope that she had changed her mind. She was back in breeches and a long shirt, but she looked impossibly beautiful to him. Her violet eyes were moist and she whispered. "I'm scared. Help me, please."
He opened the door wider and said quietly, "I'm scared, too. At least we can be scared together." He leaned down and kissed her almost timidly. He carefully threaded his fingers through her fiery red hair, pulling her close to him. She looked up at him, her violet eyes serious. "I won't fight it any more, Jon." She wrapped her arms around him, touching him as she'd never dared to before. "This is what has to be."