Fickle Kisses

By Radella (efin advisor, rose) and the author formerly known as Rose

AN: Ha! I've got it out Rose! I knew I had to think of a twist but I wasn't coming until today so I finished the last paragraph. Here you go Rose, it should be hard to continue, but you know its pay back for killing Alanna. And don't you dare bury Alanna yet, I have plans yet and you won't be trying anything else that might endanger the plot. Akright everybody, have faith! And review. Always review.

Daine was too shocked to do anything but stand there eyes wide, looking stupidly at the King that she had known and respected since she was twelve. After three seconds in her stupor, she relaxed, letting herself go in temptation.

Things in her mind flashed, warning precautions, silliness that she paid absolutely no attention to:

He is even older than Numair…he's married…I'm practically engaged…he's the king of Tortall…

Damn he's a good kisser.

Slowly, Daine put her arms around his neck. Her tears over Alanna were dry on her cheeks, and Alanna was completely forgotten. Jon's kiss grew more passionate, and Daine wondered what had caused him for such action.

Not like I mind, she thought slyly, sliding he fingers just inside the collar of Jon's white shirt.

Jon's thoughts were blurred. Alanna…dead…gone…Daine…there…them kissing…

Kissing? It took a moment for that to register in his grief stricken head. He couldn't help enjoy Daine's soft lips on his, despite his sadness.

He pulled away for a moment, "Daine…"

Her pretty blue-grey eyes reflected in his, her eyelashes fluttering suductively, "What? Not enjoying it?"

"Daine…I'm sorry but…"

Daine pushed him onto the couch, at the same time regluing her mouth to his. Much as he had previously wanted to abort the issue, he was now stuck, and there was no turning back…and most certainly, he was trapped in his own longings.

Daine on the other hand, was quite completely okay with what was going on between her and the king. Numair was lovely, of course, but he couldn't measure up to the King. Jon's a much better kisser, decided Daine happily. Older and more mature, too. And rather, he didn't have a grey hair on his head, though she had promised not to tell a soul that Numair had to have his dyed every week.

Neither of the two lustful lovers noticed a pair of purple wide eyes watching them from under the deathbed of Alanna. Neither knew that it was quiete a mistake to letting this cetain person be so aware of their actions…

Myles of Olau walked towards the room where Alanna was, knowing that he really didn't want to see what was there, though he knew what awaited him. He couldn't believe that his daughter was dead—maybe it had always seemed that she was so imortal and invincible in everyone's mind. Always strong while she was in pain and strong for everyone around her when they couldn't have the strength. And now what was he to do—he didn't have Alanna to tell him when to stop drinking anymore. No, he hadn't realized how much he missed her.

His tears flowed over his tired eyes. Myles hardly cried, but the loss of his daughter was one of the most painful things in his life. What had she been thinking up there? She would have been alert as usual if she were on guard duty. What had been so preoccupying that she couldn't have been alerted in time to duck out of the way of an enemy arrow. Well, he thought tiredly, at least it wasn't an enemy's arrow. It was one of another suspicious guard. Damn him.

He waited a minute before entering. He wasn't sure if he was ready to do this at all. What would the sight of a dead Alanna do to him? Alanna would always be the alive picture of the reckless ten-year old who had been first introduced to him in his mind. Immortal and never aging.

But he pushed open the door anyway, eyes downcast. When he looked up, he was positive he must have been hallucinating. Or at least dreaming. Because there was Daine and the King. And Daine and the King were kissing—and looking as if it were transforming into something more… definitely not appropriate behaviour for the deathbed of his daughter. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it would clear them. He pinched himself, knowing quiete well that this was suddenly real. But how could it be?
Maybe it is time I should stop drinking.

Myles cleared his throat. Daine and Jon sprang apart like jumping beans. Jon was silent and Daine searched rapidly for an excuse. Damn, thought she, caught. What am I supposed to do—we only got caught by one of the most important people in Tortall.

A figure crept out from under the bed. His cheeks were streaked with dried tears and blood from his lips after biting them so much in vain to keep back the tears that had to come. His clothes were rumpled, as if he'd slept in them. Alexander of Pirates Swoop, the youngest twin, only ten and a page at the Palace. He was not so sure he wanted to be a knight in service of this King anymore.

Damn that offspring of Alanna and her damn adoptive father, thought Daine uncharacteristically. It had just been damn lust. What is the big deal exactly?

"Excuse me, Daine, Your Majesty, but could you please explain this eh, awkward situation that I have just witnessed?"

Daine looked at Jon. But Jon was looking at Alanna. He didn't care anymore. Alanna was the love of his life and now she was gone forever. Jon walked over to the copper-haired knight and grasped her cold hand tightly, kneeling down at eye level with his Champion, crying as he watched her motionless figure. Daine now knew that he hadn't meant anything by his kiss, and Daine's slight infatuation with him broke, along with a corner of her heart.

And not only Myles, there was the boy to deal with. But he'll be easy enough to persuade, thought Daine. Its Myles we have to worry about.

Daine confidently walked over to Myles and put her arms around his neck. They were the same height. She heard the boy make a noise of surprise as she leaned in with all her maidenly seductiveness, and kissed him.