Chapter Seven--Consequences


Authors Note: I'm really and truly sorry about how long this took to get up, honestly, I've had a hard time writing these last two chapters, mainly because they had to fit in with the details in the books. This one had me loosing interest so many times, I wrote it literally sentence by sentence, sentence by days. In any case, I'm very glad you all seemed to enjoy my last chapter, against my initial predictions! Thank you all very much for your reviews and your patience, your compliments make my day! This next chapter features some agnst on Numair's part, frustration on Daine's, my first shot at writing fluff, and some nice Numair philosophy. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. The sections that are quotes from the book were quoted exclusively from memory; I don't have access to the books, (although I've just about memorized them). All characters, setting, plot, etc. belong to the Most High Authoress Tamora Pierce, which you should all know by now.


He sat a ways off from their campsite; needing the space, needing to think. He had slept fitfully last night, and woken early. His Magelet was still asleep in her bedroll, accompanied by many of the animal Gods who had taken to keeping her company when they stopped to rest. He leaned back against a rock pillar--a true rock, not a Chaos-rock--and closed his eyes. Their discussion after Daine had awoken had done little to appease his worries, in truth; they only increased them.

"Do you love me, or not?" She had asked. Goddess bless, after all that, and she still had not realized! He had drained up every ounce of his power to reach her, bludgeoned her would-be killers until they resembled the over-ripe melon that Kit had once knocked off the table, and kissed her until he had felt her go weak in his arms. He had shown her his focus, she'd seen the portrait he'd had made, he'd kissed her and held her close and all but spelled it out for her, how could she not know it? But no. Exactly what he feared.

"We're not talking about love? What are we talking of, then? Canoodling?" Surely, she knew him better than that. But then, his mind argued, what would any girl in her shoes think? Anyone at all, for that matter. He was her teacher, her friend, mentor, call it what you will; he was 14 years her elder, in a position of responsibility regarding her welfare. She was 16 years old, for Mithros's sake! And there wasn't a soul in Tortall who didn't know of his...past affairs...with every eligible lady at court. And yet, for all he had made that case against his heart time and time again since Midwinter, it had done nothing to dull the pain of the blow when he heard it from her own beloved lips.

And yet, whispered that faintest flicker of hope, she seemed to change her mind about that fairly quickly. Of course, his Magelet was no fool. He knew that better than anyone. In fact, she had swung from one of his worst fears, to the other, in only a matter of minutes.

"I know I love you. Maybe I always have..." And it was perhaps the wording of that phrase more even than the content, that convinced him she was misled. For well he knew that she could not have always loved him. He himself was unsure of when his love for her began, where it changed from curiosity, to trust, to friendship, where exactly that last bend where his feelings shifted to the less platonic emotions of desire and overpowering love; but he knew it was not forever. If Daine truly thought she had loved him forever, she had to be mistaken. They were friends. Close friends, yes, but there was a painful distinction between friendship and love. Which only solidified what his conscience had been taunting his heart with for months; she simply did not know what love was. It was wrong to allow her to believe herself in love wit him, when he knew that truly, she could not be. He would not dissuade his dearest magelet into a relationship with him, even if the cost was his own heart.


Daine awoke to find a small bird perched near her head. It was small and dusky-colored, with the small, sharp beak of a finch. She didn't recognize the markings, and was content to assume that the bird was simply one she had never encountered in the mortal realms. Hello, wing sister! You have slept long, and your Storkman was beginning to worry! The bird happily announced. The sun is already risen high, you will have missed morning meal. The bird spoke in a gently chastising tone, and Daine knew that birds considered it far better to rise early, and catch breakfast before the rest of the world had yet awoken. Though, the bird interrupted, if our nestlings had taken a fall as you did, they might be allowed to sleep late too.

The brown haired girl laughed and sat up, wincing inwardly as she did so. Her body was stiff and sore, and she felt as though she had been trampled by a herd of mountain ponies. She offered her hand to the bird as a perch, and smiled at the little creature. "And I am certain I will bear the marks of that fall for a time to come, if my bruises are anything to judge by."

The bird rustled it's feathers, and ran its beak through the girl's unruly curls. Then next time you should be more careful. Her logic was undisputable. That was one of the things Daine most appreciated about animals; they said was they meant, without any of the niceties humans tended to make use of. Go now, your Storkman is worrying. He has given us all a headache with his heavy thoughts. Go talk to him, please.

At this, the young woman couldn't help but grin. She knew better than anyone how her lanky mage could induce headaches with his scholarly musings and theories, always over-willing to share knowledge with an unsuspecting listener. It was one of the traits that made him who he was, and she loved him for it. But her sympathy did go out the People-Gods who had borne the burden of overhearing his thoughts, when he wasn't even aware he was doing it. Her thoughts already brightened at the thought of seeing her Mage, she hastened out of her bedroll in search of him.


"Numair?' She caught sight of him leaning dejectedly against a large bolder, and took her own seat beside him. "What are you thinking of? The People-Gods say you've given them all a fair headache with your heavy thinking."

He was acutely aware of her settling herself besides him, far too close for him to be able to think of anything else; not that he would be anyways. Now that his mind had been decided, he could scarcely breathe for the dread and sorrow in his heart. He knew he would have to explain to her why this could not go on. And any way he said it, she would be hurt, which pained him fore than even the thought of losing her. If she was happy; he would find a way to be alright with it. But she wouldn't be, and he knew it. She appeared happy now...would it not be better to leave her in her blissful ignorance? Why should he try to convince her that she was not in love with him, if she was happy in her belief that she was? Because that would be trickery, and I will not do that to any woman, and certainly not to Daine! He sighed unhappily, and ran a hand through his long hair. "Daine..."

Oh, Mithros, how in all the realms does a man tell the woman he loves more than life itself, that she doesn't love him? Perhaps, perhaps he could pretend that it was he who had changed his mind, and no longer desired her? Even as the thought entered his mind, he knew he couldn't do it. He could not bear to lie to her, and doubted he could, in any case. Sadness washed over him, and he knew that she was waiting. "Magelet, sweet; you don't love me."

Almost immediately, the concerned look she wore on her face disappeared, to be replaced with one of relief, followed by one of incredulous confusion. "What do you mean, I don't love you! That's fair ridiculous, Numair. I said I did, didn't I?" What in the name of all the Gods is he fretting over now? I swear, for such a smart man, he does come up with the most foolish of worries.

And how he wished for her words, spoken with such conviction, to be true. But they weren't, as he had known they never could be; all those months he'd spent hashing this argument over in his own mind. It was only made all the more painful to be re-arguing it with her.

She must have seen the disbelief on his face, for she rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Numair, of all the God's cursed stupid things...I said I loved you, and I meant it! Out of anyone I've ever met in my entire life, you're the only one I trusted enough to tell you my past, the only one who I believed when you said I had magic, you've been my best friend for almost four years! Curse it, Numair; I tore down an entire palace when I thought you were dead! You mean more to me than anyone in all the Realms, and I'd follow you to the Black God's Gate if it came to that! Horse Lords, Numair, if that's not love than you tell me where I'm mistaken!"

Later, he would swear that his jaw had dropped straight off his face. He knew that his Magelet had a stubborn, prideful streak; it was one of the things he most adored about her; she held firm to her opinions, woe to whoever stood in her way. He had spent months of heartache convincing himself that he could not have her, could never hold her close and taste those sweet lips. He had spend torturous nights convincing himself that he would never be the man who could dance as long as he liked with her at balls, who would walk with her into the gardens with the moon shining down, who would later accompany her to her rooms, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear...

And later, he would explain all this to her, as he held her small hand in his own and led her through the forest after they had counted all the stars in the sky. But now, as he took in the fierce glint in her eyes, her proudly lifted chin, the set of her stubborn jaw, he noticed something he had not seen before. Beneath the indignation and anger, he saw that she was hurt by his disbelief, and that shook him clear out of his reverie. Though he knew he was only trying to protect her, to look out for her own well-being; in the end he had hurt her, and that was unacceptable.

With a sigh, he reach over and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Burying his face in her hair, her kissed the top her head. "Daine...Sweeting, I'm sorry."

Frowning indignantly, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Oh, so you believe me now, you ridiculous dolt?"

He chuckled softly and kissed her hair, the tip of her ear, just behind her jawbone. "Magelet, my sweet, my conscience is no match for you. I give in."

She melted under his kisses; she knew she would. It was impossible to stay mad at him, and it always had been. Even when she had first met him, and thought he was mocking her for not having the Gift, she remembered their absurd conversation about hair ties. He was always like that, very kind and sweet...even to a bastard born Gallan girl-child...and he was her best friend in the world, and she loved him more than she could hardly believe. She shivered as his lips brushed and lingered behind her jawbone, winding her arms around his neck and ran her fingers though his hair; the nearness of his lips making her dizzy with desire. "Numair, your conscience can take a hike, for all I'm concerned." She whispered into his ear, leaning her head against his.

He clenched his teeth together, forcing himself not to give in to her request; a feat that was becoming increasingly difficult as her fingernails ran through his hair, brushing against his scalp. He could become lost in the sweetness of her skin, the soft weight of her in his arms...but he couldn't continue this. Not now, like this. "Oh, but my magelet, if I allowed my conscience to take a hike, we might find ourselves in a rather compromising position. He kissed her forehead, and rested his chin atop her curls. They remained like that for several minutes, safe in the knowledge that, at least for the moment, they were loved in return.

"Love, we'd really best get going." His voice was quiet, and he didn't bother to conceal the regret that ran through it in heavy undertones. "We have a war to fight, remember. And now we have a path to locate as well."

She was silent for a moment longer, and he began to fear that she'd fallen asleep again. When she did speak, her voice was soft. "When will it end, Numair? It's been months since we've had peace and quiet; even here we're fighting for our lives and for the war. When will things go back to normal? And what if..." She didn't have to say it. They both knew. What if they lost? What if, after all this, Chaos and Ozorne still won? What if, in the midst of all the fighting, they lost each other, or one of their other friends? They'd both lost so many who were dear to them already, and they'd only just found this new thing between them; it couldn't end now. But it could. And it might.

His reply was gentle and hesitant, betraying his own misgivings. "I don't know, sweet. No one does. We fight because we have to, because we believe our cause is just, and worth fighting for. Because if we don't fight, and the world dissolves to Chaos, none of this;" He stroked her cheek gently, and kissed her nose. "not us, not our friends, or all the lives in all the Realms; will matter anymore." He sighed, and pulled her close. "And it kills me, Daine, to know that you could be hurt in all this. That I've just gotten you, and you could be taken away from me." His voice was choked with emotion, and she wrapped her own slender arms around him in a tight embrace of her own.

"S'alright, Numair. We'll be alright, the both of us. We always are." She kissed his cheek, and looked him in the eye, her stubborn jaw set. "And I'm not going anywhere. Ever." She was relieved to see him smile slightly, and return her kiss. "Now then, I s'pose we'd best find the path."

Her handsome, lanky teacher kissed her swiftly one last time before lurching to his feet, the girl still in his arms. Placing her gently on her feet, he cupped her chin in one large hand. "I love you, my Magelet. And I'm glad I can finally tell you." His student simply smiled cheekily, shifted into a starling, and pecked him on his long nose.


Authors Note: So, what'd'ya think of my first shot at writing fluff? I rather prefer writitng agnst, though the fluff was fun, I'll admit. This may or may not be the last addition to this story. It certainly will be if no one suggests another chapter, as I'm fresh out of ideas. I have a few more stories in mind, (mostly all one shots or collections of such, as this one is, because I lack the imagination and dedication to come up with a decent plot.) Again, I really appreciate all your reviews and kind words, Once I've decided whether this is the end of the story, I shall post a page thanking you all individually, because I know I have neglected that! Please review!