Note: About that title, yeah. Nothing very appropriate came into mind. Anyway. Title aside, this features Kallydar banter and trademark amounts of crack, arguments about the usefulness about certain types of magic, a truce that doesn't quite work, and fashion fads, among other things.
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OMG.
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The first (and only) time that Kalasin Iliniat ever insults her husband's magic, she ends up flying through half a room, and landing, rather painfully, on the bed, with several very thick vines binding her arms to her sides, quite successfully immobilizing her.
Kaddar raises an eyebrow at her. "Useless, you said?"
Outraged, Kalasin opens her mouth to retort. Before she can even form a coherent expression of her rage, however, a daisy plants itself in her mouth.
"Hm. That's a new side effect," the emperor muses, while his wife struggles, and attempts to spit out the daisy. Kaddar observes her efforts dispassionately, before rising from his seat on the sofa and walking over to her. He pats her cheek, quite unaffected by the venomous glares she is now shooting at him.
"I am going to go get both of us some dinner," he announces. "I'll be back when you're ready to—"
Kalasin manages to partially free one leg, and she kicks him in the shin.
"Just be glad I'm not giving you fertilizer," Kaddar says darkly, shooting a glance at the daisy in her mouth.
Kalasin pales marginally.
Half an hour, when Kaddar returns to their room, balancing two plates of food, he finds Kalasin sitting in the middle of the bed, looking mutinous. Shredded vines and daisy petals surround her. "Your lovely plants couldn't take the heat," she responds, telltale sparks of blue fire hovering at her fingertips. "You need to improve your technique."
Remarkably unsurprised, he sets the food down to cool on the dresser, and proceeds to dust the remnants of his precious plant summons off the bed. "Must you have been so violent? I think these vines are beyond repair."
Kalasin smirks. "Whatever works."
After retiring to the dining chamber to eat their dinners across the solid redwood table, each eyeing the other warily over every bite of food (Kalasin expecting moss to mysteriously grow over her rice, and Kaddar expecting the sleeves of his tunic to catch on fire at any given moment), the imperial couple has to admit that, once again, events have risen to an unreasonable level.
"Which means?" Kaddar asks, eyebrow raised, when his wife voices these sentiments to him over a plate of chilled coconut ice.
"Truce," Kalasin replies, with a roll of her eyes. "I don't much fancy going to sleep with the fear that I'll wake up with mushrooms growing in my hair, or some such atrocity."
"True. Of course, that means that the insults to one another's type of magic will have to cease."
"Fine. Plant-related magic is not useless."
"…And healing-related magic is not overrated and lacking in versatility."
With those two sentences, everything has been resolved. Not bad, Kaddar muses, as he finishes up the coconut ice. The concession to the possible uses of healing magic hadn't been a huge wound to his pride, after all.
Later that night, after Kalasin and Kaddar had retired to bed and blown out all the candles, and Kalasin had once again stolen the covers, she spoke one last time. "Kaddar?"
"Hm?"
"If I wake up with any specimen of plant life growing on my face or my limbs, I will kill you."
Kaddar swallowed back all the possible retorts that sprang to mind, in the interest of his peace of mind and preservation of his person. "…Yes, dear."
"Goodnight, my lord," Kalasin says sweetly, rolling over on her side.
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The next morning, Kalasin rolls out of bed considerably later than Kaddar and staggers toward her dressing room, still in a state of advanced grogginess, as per usual.
When she sees her reflection in the mirror, she blinks and rubs her eyes repeatedly, convinced that what she is seeing is the product of her sleep-clouded mind.
It takes her a few minutes to ascertain that the red roses that seem to have grown into her long hair overnight—and will not come out—are very real indeed. And of course, there is only one person she knows who could be capable of such a thing.
"Kaddar!" she screeches, clutching her hairbrush as if it is a sword, and not merely an ivory-carved object of hair care.
The recipient of her ire appears in the doorway a few moments later, looking completely rested and supremely unconcerned as to her current predicament. Kaddar keeps a straight face as his wife glares at him. "Well," he says in reply to her unasked question. "There's nothing growing on your face and nothing binding your limbs. I didn't figure you would have a problem with this. Besides, it looks quite striking."
Kalasin has to restrain herself from throwing the hairbrush at him.
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A few days later, the roses have fallen out and Kalasin can once again sit at Kaddar's side in front of the entire Court without having curious stares directed her way.
It smells in here, she thinks miserably. The scent of roses is quite overpowering in the ballroom, perhaps due to the fact that every one of the hundred-odd court ladies in here have the flowers braided into their hair, in emulation of their Empress.
Kaddar nudges her lightly. "You haven't thanked me yet."
"Thanked you for what, my dear?" she inquires, through slightly clenched teeth.
"You started quite a bit of a fashion fad, if you hadn't noticed already," he replies flippantly. "Although I have to say that none of them look as lovely as you."
Kalasin clears her throat. "Thank you, Kaddar. Your creative usage of your Gift has opened my eyes to the fact that plant magic may be used not only for agricultural benefits, but also for bondage techniques that may or may not have a sexual nature, and starting shallow beauty trends among the members of our nobility. With your help, I feel truly enlightened as to the value of different forms of magic in our society."
Kaddar beams. "You're welcome."
Silence. "…I was being completely sarcastic with that, you know."
"Mmm, yes. It was nice hearing it, all the same. You can go on, actually. I'm listening."
"No, it's quite alright. I'll pass."
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My first Kallydar in, oh, I don't know, seven months? Reviews appreciated.