Note: All of these are unconnected drabbles, from G to PG. Enjoy.
Intelligence of Snow
Rating: G
Summary: Snow is a funny thing.
Snow is a funny thing.
It falls and drifts by no whim of its own, being at the mercies of the wind. Each snowflake is unique, but together they are indistinguishable.
Snow has no eyes to see or ears to hear, but somehow snow feels. This is a scientific fact, for the crystals in each snowflake change depending on their environment. When surrounded by love and kindness, the crystals grow and glow, making new connections and shining brightly. When surrounded by hatred, snow crystals shrink and their light from within dims to near darkness.
Of course, such changes go unnoticed unless seen from a very close perspective, but any outsider who observed the two figures standing alone during the soft snowfall, might well hazard a guess that the snow crystals were glowing and altering into magnificent spires, prompted by the love emanating from them.
The taller figure reaches out with a slightly-trembling hand and brushes a lock of hair behind the woman's ear. She catches his hand before he withdraws and interlaces their fingers together.
"Are you sure you're ready?" whispers the woman.
"Undoubtedly." He swallows and cups her cheek with his other hand. "How could I not be, with you at my side?"
Yes, one might be able to see a faint nimbus of light around the pair as the king of Tortall and the only lady knight walks hand in hand, bodies touching, heads leaning together, love and devotion in every motion.
Moonlight
Rating: PG
Summary:Kel watches Jon at night.
The soft moonlight trickled through the thin curtain, blurring the hard edges of the man on the bed.
Kel, propped up on one scarred forearm, studied the kingly profile of the king. With one gentle hand, she traced his face with feather-light touches. She started at his brow, down his aquiline nose, and stopped briefly to trace his lips. They softened at her touch and curled into a smile.
Jon's brilliant blue eyes opened slowly, but with a fire that reached into Kel's chest and spread throughout her body, which certainly knew by now what followed that look.
His eyes never left hers, but burned brighter as he opened his lips just far enough to capture her fingertip.
Constellation
Rating: G
Summary:Jon and Kel stargaze.
Kel sighed in contentment and could not resist the urge to squirm closer to the heat-producing body. Jon glanced down at her, smiling. He wrapped his large arm around her shoulders, pulling her snugly against himself, and the two shared a close, warm kiss that spoke of years of companionship and the slow fire of true long-lasting love.
They glanced up at the star-studded sky.
"Did I ever tell you about Faithful?" he asked softly as he leaned his head on her hair. She only responded with a faint shake of her head, too comfortable even to speak.
Jon conveyed the story of Alanna's mysterious cat as he gestured towards the constellations that glittered above them like precious stones, particularly One constellation, the Cat, which sat at the feet of the Goddess,
Kel looked up with wonderment, and the pair solemnly greeted the Cat. The pair of stars that made up its eyes seemed to twinkle a faint violet as they welcomed an old friend and a new.
Scarred
Rating: PG
Summary: Jon can't sleep at night.
"Why do you watch me when I'm asleep?"
Jon's hand paused in its delicate feather-light exploration of Kel's face, still relaxed and eyes half-lidded as she rose from sleep. He said nothing.
"I won't leave you."
"Won't you?"
"Never."
His hand continued its journey down her chin and along her neck. "Thayet said the same."
"I'm not your dead wife."
Jon winced and settled his hand along the curve of her hip, thumb making slow circles around the gentle bump.
"Besides, I love you too much.
Jon's fingers stilled and his entire body went rigid. "You know I can't give you that." The words escaped from a numb mouth. They choked him.
"I know." Kel's voice was even. Accepting, not hopeful, saddened, or resigned. She knew better than to wish or hope for more from the scarred man scared to give his heart once more to a fragile human. People could get hurt, after all, bruised broken and die, leaving the lover bereft of a heart, only an eternal aching void of emptiness.
Exile
Rating: PG
Summary: Kel has had enough.
Kel hate herself, that she furtively searches for his presence whenever he's nearby, that her ears strain for the deep timbre of his voice, that when she is near him her heart pounds and when she is away a lump sits heavy in her throat.
She hates herself because she can't hate Jon. He does nothing to encourage her. He hardly knows she exists outside of her status as a knight of his realm. A useful sort of person, certainly, but no more.
Kel hates that if she were to die, he'd feel a blithe sadness that a loyal knight had passed, but if he were to die, it would be as if her very heart were ripped from her chest and trampled upon by all the stables warhorses.
Therefore she requests a personal exile back to New Haven, where Kel hopes she will remain until this ill-conceived, ill-advised, misguided, passionate longing either ceases or until she gains mastery over it.
Kel expects it to be a long exile.
Venerate
Rating: PG
Summary: Kel muses on the difference between the king and the emperor.
Kel had been in the Islands long enough to pick up many characteristics of the Yamanis. She had lived there since she was four, after all. Most of the customs seemed as natural as breathing, now, but one that had always made her wary was how they idealized the Emperor.
No, not idealized. It was more than that; they venerated him. Literally and figuratively, he could do no wrong, not even when he ordered the beheading of an entire household over one man's crime.
So when Kel returned to her native home, Tortall, she was wary of the king. Kings and emperors are nearly the same after all. Kel watched King Jonathan. She watched him carefully, and gradually came to the disturbing, yet relieving conclusion that he was not like the semi-divine Yamani Emperor. He was loved, certainly, but not by all. He certainly was not venerated.
He wielded tremendous power and influence, yes, but he was just a man.
Only human.
Palpable
Rating: PG
Summary: The tension is thick.
Kel shivered when she felt the weight of his gaze upon her again.
What did it mean that the king kept staring at her so? She fidgeted with the low neckline of her gown and then the gold necklace that draped around her neck.
Her eyes slid back to his, then sank demurely, like a delicate court coquette, which was incredibly galling because that was her complete opposite.
Kel couldn't help it. The tension in the air was palpable, so thick that it was a physical presence and she couldn't help but wonder how no one else felt it. She suddenly found it difficult to breathe, and knew that the king's eyes rested on her form again.
What did it mean? What did he want?
The questions drove her mad, and like an overwhelmed youth at his first battle, she fled the room. The weight of those blue eyes never left her until she reached her rooms, panting with more than exertion.
Irrefutable
Rating: PG:
Summary:Kel can't be sure. Oh wait, yes she can.
This was it.
This was the final test.
Kel stood outside the king's office door and stowed the folder of reports from Raoul under one arm as she wiped her sweaty palms on her breeches. She smoothed her tunic, took a deep breath, and strode in.
"Good morning, sire," she said cheerfully to the king, bent over his paperwork even so early. He glanced up at her and smiled.
"Good morning, Keladry. You already know what I'm going to say, so I shall merely ask what number this makes."
Kel shoved her flip-flopping traitorous heart away from her throat so she could answer normally, as if she were unaffected. "I believe this would be around two hundred and fifty, sire, but I'm afraid it doesn't truly count until you ask." Her traitorous mind was in tandem with her heart, and murmured that she was fooling herself; this was number two hundred sixty seven and she bloody well knew it.
Jon chuckled. "Very well. Keladry, you have my permission to use my given name. I have no doubt that you will continue to thank me politely and ignore my request as always."
"But does it count unless I say it?" Kel grinned.
"Out, away with you, impertinent knight!" Jon flicked one long hand at her. "You already know my answer."
Kel bowed, called farewell with one wicked 'sire,' and left quickly, only to lean against his door. She panted, as if to catch her breath, and wiped her sweating forehead with a shaking hand. This morning's banter had proved, as it had each previous morning, what was completely irrefutable. She was in love with Jon.
Idiosyncracies
Rating: PG
Summary: A week can be a lot of time.
In one week of marriage, Kel had learned more about her husband Jon than in a year of formal courtship.
She learned how every morning he would spend thirty minutes grooming just his beard, how he imbued the oils and soaps for his hair with his own Gift, how he worried and fretted over each gray hair and took vindictive pleasure in plucking them out or dying them to an inch of their lives.
Kel learned how Jon found it difficult to fall asleep at night, how his duties and responsibilities weighed on him so heavily that many nights he woke up in a flurry, suddenly positive that he'd forgotten some such vital task. Other nights, he whimpered in his sleep over some terrible memory. It was a coin's toss whether he dreams of the Chamber, or the death of his first wife and three of his children in the midst of an immortal attack on the palace.
She learned how he was fiercely independent when it came to choosing his wardrobe for each day, and how he always took the initiative to straighten the bed-covers in the morning, yet the concept of not tossing his worn clothes in one dirty pile baffled him. They always disappeared, anyway. Jon insisted it was magic.
So it was, after a week's worth of marriage to Jon, that Kel loved him more fiercely than ever, due to his idiosyncrasies and not in spite of them. Kel couldn't wait for the next week, and the next, and all the weeks of their lives together.
Sword
Rating: PG
Summary: Kel comments on Jon's new weapon. Rating for innuendo.
"I hear you have a new sword."
Jon glanced up at the quiet voice that contained a hint of a mischievous drawl. Unknown to him, his expression lightened when he saw the speaker.
"Keladry," he said with pleasure. "You're back already."
She nodded; her latest stint in the North had been completed earlier than expected. The first thing she did after she arrived was to visit her friend. Kel grabbed a seat. "The Scanrans have decided that they are much easier targets then us. Much more infighting. Can I see your sword?"
Jon unbuckled it from his belt and handed it over. Kel unsheathed it with a quiet hissof high-quality metal and raised an eyebrow as she inspected it.
"It's a bit longer than usual," she noted.
"I've had longer," Jon said dismissively.
Kel coughed. "Of that, I'm sure." She hefted it in two hands. "It's got a bit of weight to it; I hope you know how to control it, that it isn't too big."
Jon frowned just slightly. "It's hardly a large sword, Kel. What are you getting after?"
She chuckled. "Hard. Large. I'm sure it'll be more than adequate, once you get some experience. First-times are always painful."
Jon flushed. "Really, Kel. Channeling Gary, are you?"
Race
Rating: PG
Summary: Jon and Kel are in a race, as Gary discovers.
The prime minister of Tortall ambled by the king's open door. Without glancing inside, he called out, "Hey Jon."
At the response, "Go away, Gary," well, such an invitation could scarcely be rejected. Gary poked his head inside the door and frowned in confusion at seeing Jon intently focused on a slender book, his eyes rapidly bouncing back and forth. Gary scoffed - no way could Jon be reading so quickly - and peered at the title.
"Vindication of the Rights of the Common? Rather dry and verbose for your usual tastes."
Jon never looked away as he growled, "Not now, Gary. Go away."
Gary raised an eyebrow and folded his arms over his chest. If Jon had looked up, he would have recognizaed his minister's 'stubborn pose,' the one he used when he thought the king was being particularly 'thick-headed.' "Not until you tell me why," he threatened.
"I have to finish this." Jon punched at the tiny handwriting with a sharp jab.
"It's hardly enthralling reading," Gary drawled.
Jon tossed a quill on his page and threw down the book on his desk. It was perfectly clear that he'd get no further until he satisfied his former-friend's insatiable curiosity. "I have to finish before Kel," he said, grumpily.
"If I'm not mistaken, you've had that book for over three days. I caught you reading it under the table at dinner."
"I've been busy, but any moment now, she'sgoing-"
Kel strolled in, a breezy smile on her face. She eyed the closed volume on his desk and her grin faltered just slightly. "Finished yet?" she said doubtfully.
"No." Jon's face was a stone.
"Oh." Kel's smile reappeared and she said breezily, "I suppose that means I've won yet again."
"I had things to do. Kingly things."
Kel patted him on the shoulder, much to Gary's amusement. "Of course you did, Jon."
Sparrows
Rating: PG
Summary: Jon tries to make friends with the sparrows. Rating for a few bad words.
The soberly dressed bird eyes him with a curious black eye.
A trembling finger stretches out, waving invitingly, hoping this this time, maybe just once, the bird might-
Nope. The sparrow chortles and chirps and pecks him sharply before flitting away to another branch.
Jon glares at the retreating bird as it huddles next to a friend. He rubs the red mark on his finger and scowls.
Why did Keladry's birds hate him so much?
Ever since he and Kel started courting, her damn birds took every opportunity to chirp at him - not a pleasant 'hello!' either - to empty their bowels on him - which was less of a bother now that he had a cleaning charm, but that meeting with the Yamani ambassador had been humiliating when he hadn't known about the white smear on the back of his tunic - or to simply ignore him.
Jon likes that last option the best, but unfortunately, it's not enough. The birds, nasty pecking little bastards that they are, come with Keladry. As does her foul-tempered recalcitrant gelding, but that beast has less mobility than do the dung-bombing sparrows.
Not even food softens their hostile stance towards the monarch. Not even cherries.
He shakes a fist at the nearest brown-garbed sparrow, who tilts its head and chirps. Innocently.
"Jon?" came a concerned voice. Jon whirls around to see Kel, who had caught him in the act of threatening little defenseless birds. He feels absurdly ashamed, even though they deserve it.
"Just making friends," he says feebly, not sure if Kel will buy it, but thankfully her eyes soften and she smiles a smile that warms his heart and he remembers why he loves her even though she has evil birds. He never forgets it, even when the one with devilishly-good aim gets him in his hair.
She comes to him and they open their arms to come together. Kel buries her face into Jon's shoulder, and he breathes in the scent of her hair and rests his chin on it, content.
He peeks one eye open to see the flock of flying rats ruffling their feathers and glaring evilly.
Jon flips them off.
Hands
Rating: PG
Summary:Kel contemplates hands.
Kel doesn't like her hands. They are strong, yes, but they are too large even if they are perfect for holding a sword or a glaive or a lance. They are littered with scars, some deeper than others, most courtesy of one foul-tempered griffin. The fingers are blunt, not tapering, and trained to be powerful, not precise. Her years of handling weapons have served to build up calluses hard enough to withstand the constant abuse. She worries that they are no longer sensitive.
Yet Kel shivers at the breath that dances over them, the small puff of air heralding the arrival of a soft mouth as Jon gently kisses each small white line and every rough callus and the tip of all fingers. As his hand rises to cradle hers, Kel sees similar scars from years of swordplay and she feels the same patches of callouses as she has. She cannot dislike her hands, not anymore, not if his are the same.
Cage
Rating: PG
Summary: Jon realizes that he's at fault, but can do nothing to change it.
Jon winced slightly as Kel looked through him, as if he weren't visible at all, even though he had just dismissed an adviser's meeting where she had been quite vocal.
He remained in his chair, busying his hands by shuffling papers. When that had continued for too long, he simply fiddled with a pen.
Jon knew he was in the wrong. That was the worst part about this entire mess; he had no one to blame but himself, and he knew that until he made the first conciliatory gesture, this icy impasse would remain.
Yet whenever he turned to Kel with an oft-practiced apology, the words turned to dust in his throat, and she simply turned away impassively, though Jon knewthat their separation hurt her as much as it hurt himself.
Yet whenever he set down pen to paper to write out the words that might heal this gap, the ink dried in his pen before he could get out more than a single stroke. Jon was left speechless, wordless.
Perhaps it was pride, an innate disdain for admitting fault and failure, exacerbated by his years of kingship where he had to be correct and accurate and perfect at every moment. Whatever the cause, he could not break away from his prescribed path.
So he hardened himself in her absence, convincing himself that what was done was done, that what had happened was meant to be, and in her presence, all of those barriers fell apart with a single distant look from Kel, and he was left defenseless. Jon was trapped in a cage of his own making, and hers.
Pottery
Rating: G
Summary: There exists a plate emblazoned with two proud figures.
The small clump of students somehow managed to be chaotic, even though they were sharply managed by haggard-looking irritated teachers and parents, half of whom simply repeated in more or less monotone tones, "No, you can't touch that. Don't touch that at all. Or that."
One little girl stood slightly apart from the others. She gazed solemnly into the glass boxes that held bits of ancient history emblazoned on reddish pottery. Most of the markings were in black, of men and women and fantastical beasts.
There was one display hidden towards a corner, and she slipped away from her bored classmates to study it.
The case held a large clay plate, which was covered much like the others, but this one was fractured in a hundred different places. She tried to consider how much time and work was spent in putting it back together, but gave up.
There were two figures on the plate, both sitting on simple thrones. The man held a jewel in one hand, and the woman held a spear of some kind, and their free hands clasped the other's. The little girl's breath fogged the glass as she printed a picture in her mind of the two people. She thought they must have loved each other very much, as their bodies were painted proudly straight, but tilted slightly towards the other as if defying the painter.
The man had a hint of color in his eyes. If she squinted, the girl thought it might be blue. The woman stared at her with eyes that were at once direct and kind.
The explanatory card read simply: King Jonathan and Queen Keladry, monarchs of an ancient civilization. Origin: Unknown. Time: Unknown.
"Kel, let's go," said the exasperated voice of her twin brother. "They're going to leave us."
Kel hesitated as she left with Jon, her body half-turned towards the two lovers on the plate, one arm raised in a farewell.