My goodness, another romantic-competitor-bashing ficlet! *sigh* Unbetaed and unpolished too, just something that occurred to me and I wrote it out. Just bear with me, and PLEASE tell me what you think. Starring Lady Ermelian of Kennan, on a quiet evening with her husband. About two years post-LK.
Hmm... I seriously debated whether a girl called Ermelian would be nicknamed "Erm" or "Mellie"... but Erm was my gut instinct.
Acknowledgements to Min - I was thinking about Muted Song (beautiful fic, btw) and this scene sprouted in my head - that's why the setting, etc. is so similar. Yep, I nicked the idea.
Disclaimer: the premise of Tortall, as well as the characters in this fic, are the creation of Tamora Pierce. However, this story is mine alone.
Compromise
by Starchild
He stands in the gloom by the window, well-built frame braced against the evening sky. It has already deepened to dark blue, scattered with a few stars.
"Come to bed, Cleon," I coax. Finished brushing out my long, wheat-brown hair, I pull it over my shoulder to begin braiding. "Tomorrow's a big day." It is; we're setting off for Corus. Their Majesties are holding festivities to celebrate Princess Lianne's betrothal; every noble in the realm will be there.
His back is still to me. He doesn't answer.
"Cleon?"
Slowly, he turns. "Sorry, Erm." He closes the shutters, then strides over to the bedside and changes briskly into his nightshirt. "I was... thinking, is all."
I've reached the end of the plait, and tie it off. He gets into bed and leans against the headboard, arms behind his head. His coppery hair gleams even in the dim candlelight.
"The baby's got another tooth," I murmur. "Imagine. She seems so eager to start real food, like everyone else." I smile at the thought.
He nods silently.
I turn to face him. His handsome features are grave, his eyes cloudy and distant. I see him like this at times - so near, but absent. He's my husband; we've shared a life for two years; we've worked together to do our duty to the Crown and to Kennan - but I know we don't share everything. I've always had a feeling, for instance, that he loved someone else before our wedding. I'm rather intuitive that way; my family always noted me for it. But I've never pressed Cleon on the matter. After all, he's capital as a husband - as honorable as they come, that's him.
But then, he's rarely so absent as this.
"A copper for your thoughts," I say softly.
He starts, then releases a brief sigh. "Oh, just thinking about... the past." He stares straight ahead into the darkness. "During my training years. Before we were married."
I smile wryly. "And interesting people, you knew." Nearly every one of his year-mates turned out... unconventionally, one might say.
"Yes," he whispers.
I sigh, and gather my will. I have to know. No use having it between us, untouchable and unresolved. "Cleon?"
"Yes?"
I toy with the end of my braid. "There was... another woman, wasn't there? Back then?"
He stiffens tangibly.
I turn towards him again, though he isn't looking at me. "Cleon," I say earnestly, "I wouldn't think any less of you."
It's a long moment before he replies. "Yes, there was." He speaks slowly, as thought the words come to him across a great distance. "We weren't lovers, though, but - yes." He swallows. "We broke it off when the engagement was set."
I digest this. "Was it hard?"
He seems reluctant to answer. "In a way...." A pause. "She wasn't upset, though, or she didn't show it. I had a duty to my family and my people. She understood that, and didn't begrudge it to me."
I bite my lip, envisioning the situation. She must have been quite a woman.
"I'm sorry, Erm, I -" Now he does sound sorry, and fumbles for words.
"No." I'm surprised to find my voice is thick. I try to clear my throat quietly. "I mean, no," I say more gently. "It's perfectly fine."
He exhales heavily, and falls silent. "Life's so often a compromise," he says at length. The words sound like they're forcing their way out. "We can only do our best to tend to everything, and put aside selfish desires. We have our duties to honor."
My heart aches. Cleon, the truest knight I ever met - he never got what he wanted, and deserved. Surely he dreamed, when he was younger - in my husband I see a dreamer tempered by life and duty and reality, clear as day. He loved a woman in his youth, and a worthy one, doubtless; but he ended up with me. And he has been a fine husband and lord - kind and caring, noble and responsible - as well as a loyal vassal and knight of the realm. That's Cleon, surely - far too honorable to question his lot in life; rather, he makes the best of it.
"Erm, believe me - you've always stood by me, and tended to Kennan, and - relations with other nobles, raising Arly, managing the fief - I couldn't ask for much more in a wife." He's facing me now, grey eyes luminous. I know he means it. "I couldn't ask more of you."
He couldn't ask for much more in a wife?
We've been through a good deal as lord and lady of Kennan. We work well together.
But there's only so much we can give each other.
I touch a finger to my tongue and pinch out the candle by my side of the bed. I reach out to pat Cleon's knee. "Fair dreams, my lord," I say before shifting away slightly and scooting down in the bed to lay my head on the pillow.
Is that a shadow of a smile, touching his lips? He leans to blow out the taper at his side. "Fair dreams, my lady."