A Meeting of Houses
Act X - Kiss Of Death

Jaelawyn Noble [ Jaelawyn@attbi.com ]

Disclaimer: Love 'em, dun own 'em.
Warnings:
Rating: R
Pairing: Lerant/Keladry, Roald/Shinkokami, Buri/Raoul
Summary: Kel is in an arranged marriage. Only, it's at the brink of the war with Scanra. Kel is a Knight - and has to follow the king's orders. Will she learn to love her future husband, as they fight together? Or is everything just doomed to forever be something you cannot fight?
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~

Cleon gripped the hilt of the dagger, tears flowing like rivers down his face. Hot tears that when released fell like a torrent. Oh, how his heart hurt! He couldn't stand it any longer. His life since Kel's betrothal had been nonexistent. It had been hell. Sure, Aises was lovely. Her body was perfectly feminine and voluptuous. Her black hair was perfect, silky... It wasn't Kel's. Whenever Cleon saw Aises, he longed to see Kel. He hated the way he needed her; hated the way he couldn't get her out of his mind.

Dammit it all, he hated her, yet her loved her. A lovely thing such a remorseful poet would love. He knew it was stupid and foolish to hope she would come back to him and love him. It was hopeless - and yet still he hoped. Oh, stupid because he knew that Keladry was done with him. Impossible, because he had spread lies about her... He had turned almost everyone against her.

He understood why she would never come back. And somewhere, deep in his mind, it made him think life was no longer worth living. In a certain way, it wasn't. Toying with the knife's hilt, he thought of all the disdainful looks he had gotten of late. Mostly from all the knights, squires, and even some pages! Oh, that was laughable. Pages looking down upon a knight. He began to think about how it would be best for all if he died. After all, he deserved it. He was nothing; less than a flea. He wasn't honorable enough to love Keladry. He shouldn't live.

He was so involved in his thinking that he didn't notice his mother standing in front of him. He didn't noticed until she took the dagger out of his hand and smacked him violently. "How dare you!" she snarled violently. "Aises is our last chance for survival! You would be wise to remember that!"

"Mother..." Cleon murmured. "I can't help it! Keladry..." He looked away. "I love her, Mother. At least, I think I do."

Acis sighed and hugged her dejected son. "If your father was still alive we would be able to do as we pleased."

"He's not alive," Cleon viciously snapped. "He's left us with no choice in life!"

Acis' eyes blazed. "He thought all the debts had been paid off! He hadn't any idea people would come after us, demanding to have his debts paid." The blaze of anger in her eyes died. "Oh, my love, I am sorry. The least of your fears is to deal with money, at least at this moment. Nothing matters, so long as you keep your head above this flood of anger that clouds us. Maybe someday you'll be able to find someone you love, if Aises does not survive, and wed them. But now, it cannot be, my son. Maybe the future holds something better for us all."

Cleon sighed, remembering the hatred and hurt in Kel's eyes. He remembered the searing pain when Lerant had given him a right hook. He saw the look of pure and undisguised hatred flare in the eyes of his previous friends. He remembered drinking and even drugging... and then using women to try and ease him hurt. He had become something he had hated the most. He had become what he had once made his friends - previous friends - promise to kill him if he turned into one. They would gladly kill him now, but not for that reason.

He drew a deep breath. "I shall try, Mother," he began slowly, "to forget about Keladry. I give you my sworn word that I will make this work with Aises. In the end, you are right. In the end, absolutely nothing matters. I can try as hard as I want, get as far as I can, but I shall never be able to have what I love. I might as well make everything work out for the best. It is all anyone can do; as much as a man can do."

Acis hugged her son around the shoulders and kissed him. Then she got up, taking the knife with her, and left. Cleon sat in the chair, staring at the fire, eyes unblinking. What was it that one poet had said about "nevermore?" The one who would forever - it seemed - mourn the wife he had had? Or was it about something else? A raven, perhaps?

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! -- prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that heaven that bends above us -- by that god we both adore--
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore--
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angel name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven , "Nevermore."

~

Alanna slammed her hands down on the table. "No!" she snapped at the tall, lanky youth sitting in front of her. "Forget it! I am not letting you go up to Northwatch! For one thing, you're father would have my head. Another, it's too dangerous! Forget it! Get the idea out your head, Thomas Dracon of Pirate's Swoop!"

Thom winced, hear his full name. "Ma... I'm a full war mage. I know how to take care of myself. Please... I want to help."

"Help by going home," Alanna half snarled at her son.

Numair and Daine both tried not to laugh. Daine had known Thom since he was six, while Numair had been there when he was still in the womb. They both had been called in by Thom to try and convince his mother to try and let him go up to Northwatch. The thing was, all of his teachers at the University agreed that he was the best at offensive magics. Not to mention, he wasn't half bad at defensive either. At the moment, Alanna was addressing her son by his full name... And giving him a headache.

"MAMA!" he cried out. Alanna stopped her rant. "I'm a mage! A war mage! I know that I can be of help to Raoul and Buri! Ask any of my teachers! I know as much war magic as you! Maybe even more!" he was downright pleading now, and he knew it. His hazel eyes were begging with her to let him try to help, his long fingered hands - gotten from his crafty father - were held out in entreaty. His body language was nothing but begging and pleading. He wanted to help; desperately, it seemed.

Alanna, relenting a little, shook her head. "Your father would kill me..." Her voice soft, almost uncertain.

"If it's just a matter of Da, let me handle it! I can talk him around! I know I can!"

Alanna shook her head, her resolve strengthening. "Forget it, Thom."

"Ma!" he cried out. "Please! At least let me try!"

Daine sighed, ready to insert her two cents. "Alanna, Thom can take care of himself. Also, there are other mages going up. He won't be alone. There would be plenty of people to look after him, make sure he doesn't overreach himself. Lord Raoul and Buri would be able to make sure that he stays safe, as well."

"It's not that bad for a mage up there, Alanna," Numair murmured, eyes serious, though sparkling with laughter. "He'd be safe, and very much out of the way. I'd say all the mages would be watching him with a strict eye. He's young, but powerful. He's a much more powerful war mage and healer than I am."

"You aren't a healer," Alanna snapped violently out at him. Her violet eyes were slits, her mouth in a grim line, her brows downward in deep mistrust. It was a common reaction that Alanna had to anything she didn't like. George usually coaxed her out of it within a few minutes, but it was obvious this was not one of those times. Especially since George wasn't here and Jonathan had no idea how to deal with his Champion when she decided to be "motherly."

"Exactly," Numair said, cheerfully.

Daine rolled her eyes at her lover. "You aren't helping here, Numair!" she warned.

Alanna's expression could only be described as frosty and full of ice. Her eyes were not hard jewels - no... They were ice; her violet eyes had a murderous glint to them and they radiated iciness. She wasn't pleased with this. No one knew why, that was for sure. Numair didn't, Daine didn't. "I refuse to let my seventeen year old son go into battle!" she gritted out.

Gary, leaning against the door, began laughing. "Alanna! Let the poor boy be!"

"Gareth of Naxen, no one asked your opinion," she said, saying the words as if they were each a full sentence. Gary, for his part, knew when to push, and when to pull. This was the time to pull and coax.

"Alanna, don't be unreasonable. He isn't your brother. Thom has a good head on his shoulders. He has morals, family, and he knows you'd put him on a spit and grill him if he got hurt. For another, he actually has a heart."

Alanna's eyes blazed in anger. "How dare you speak of my brother!"

Gary raised and eyebrow, mobile face gone blank. Now was the time to push. "It's the truth. Thom of Trebond was a spoiled brat who knew that he could do whatever he wanted. He had the power, and he had no equal. He knew that. He did what he wanted only because he was bored, if nothing else. Thom was a bastard. When you were here, he was remotely civil. Without you here to keep him in line, he was pompous bastard who knew that no one would stand up to him."

Alanna smacked him. Her face was ablaze in anger. Her body shook in anger, her nails dug into her palms, biting and cutting healed scars. Blood dripped from her white-knuckled fists to the floor. It was the only sound in the whole room except for the sound of breathing. Daine was in shock that the Lioness' temper had gone so out of her control. Numair, knowing who Thom of Trebond and what he had done, stood in silent shock. Thom, knowing very much about his uncle and his mother, went over to Alanna and pulled one of her bloody hands to him so he could heal her.

Gary, who knew what he was doing, nodded at her. "Alanna, your son is smart. He's seventeen. In close to a month, he'll be eighteen. Let him make his own choices for his life." With that, Gary turned and left, going back to the King's Study to go cheer his cousin up.

Alanna pulled her hands free from her son, collapsed into the closest chair, and put her head in her hands. "Do what you want," she said into her hands. Though Thom could hear exactly what his mother meant. He went over to her, pulled her left and right hands to him and healed them. He used his handkerchief to wipe the blood off his mother's face. He then kissed her and nodded.

~

Shea bandaged his hands and wrists and began to practice kicking the literal shit out of some Scanrans. His aunt had convinced Maggur to let Shea practice on a few of the greener warriors. Maggur, thinking this great sport, agreed. For the past three hours, Shea had been laying them all out.

He was livid. They were so close to capturing Northwatch, yet Maggur constantly fucked it up. The idiot's love for Delia had clouded his mind. Northwatch had no guards on during the night. They had magickal protections, but that was easy enough to break through. The warriors they kept were pathetic. Northwatch was a fruit just waiting to be picked.

It drove Shea mad to know they would never have it so long as Maggur was so interested in his aunt. With a primal roar, Shea laid out fifteen men in four to five minutes.

~

Kel stretched her arms above her head. Lerant looked up from the map they were both studying.

"Tired?" he asked softly.

"That obvious?" she smiled.

Lerant slipped closer to her in the bed and held her. She let her head rest on his shoulder, exposing her delicate neck. He stroked her hair while holding her around the waist. Lerant began to kiss the side of her neck, softly working his way down to the base of her neck where she was most sensitive to his ministrations. Kel squirmed and moaned under his lips, feeling the delicious pleasure running through her body like liquid fire. He smiled against her skin and continued to kiss her, going down a little lower to the hollow of her throat. He laid Kel laid back, undoing her tunic ties as she undid his. The two were just removing their shirts as someone knocked loudly on the door. Kel groaned loudly and pulled a pillow over her head. Lerant pulled his tunic back on and began lacing it up.

"Keladry? Lerant?" Raoul asked, knocking once more. "You two done with that map yet? Buri needs it." By that time Lerant had yanked the door open. Raoul was trying to hold back some obvious laughter. Kel still had the pillow over her head and Lerant look incredibly rumpled. Raoul couldn't help it. He burst out laughing. "You two... Why don't you just move in together? It'd be easier." He picked the map up off the bed and gave them a wolfish grin. "Besides, we need a free room."

~

Two weeks later, it was the height of July. It was more than hot. Too hot to move. It was then that the bandits decided to raid Northwatch. The bandits were Scanrans, coming down from their hiding places to get money, food, and to smear some blood on their hands and faces. Occasionally, they took prisoners - but that almost never happened.

It was on one of these days a god descended to Northwatch. At least, according to Keladry. In the thick of the battle, during the sun's zenith, the gates to Northwatch flew open. A young god rode in on a stallion of darkness. The horse was beautiful, in and of itself. The body was as black as night, with a small white star on it's forehead. The mane and tail of the beautiful creature was like silver. The horse though, did not compete with it's master.

The young man dismounted and, in the same moment, beheaded a Scanran bandit with a sword that Kel didn't even see drawn. He landed, in a kneeling position, and then swirled up, stabbed a Scanran in the gut, and tossed a small dagger into the throat of an oncoming opponent. The Scanran who had caught the dagger in the throat choked, clutching at the small throwing knife. He coughed up blood and fell, dead, to his knees then to his face.

He made a cupping motion with his hands and brought them to his chest. Suddenly, the empty hands contained crackling violet edged with black magic. He pushed the magic away slowly, the ball growing in size until it was larger than a house. As soon as it touched a Scanran, they turned to ash. Soon, at least thirty piles of ash lay scattered on the ground. Silence followed and then the Scanrans ran.

The Tortallan warriors cheered. The young man smiled shyly and bowed elfishly. That's when Keladry saw him correctly. Is he... Is he a god?! she thought in panic.

He was tall - at least an inch over six feet, maybe more. Tall and slender. The body of a young god. He was well muscled; more even then Keladry. You couldn't see the muscles clearly, but his semi-loose no-sleeves shirt showed a delicate ripple on the abdomen and defined the pure muscles of his arms. His long legs were perfect for running; long and slender, he could run away from anything. Of course, as his cloak was awry, she could see a black mark on his right shoulder. It looked like a cross, only the horizontal line through it was... A squiggle line. [ i.e. - ~ through | ] The same symbol was repeated on a long earring hanging from his right lobe, along with a medium sized silver stud earring.

His face was a different matter all together. He was beautiful! His face was perfectly tan - although she could tell his skin was naturally tan. His eyes were almond shaped, and hazel. An endless hazel. The green in his eyes was almost greener than the greenest emerald. And they seemed to pierce right through your body, searching your soul, your heart, and judging what they saw. Those beautiful eyes were set under even copper brows in a perfect forehead. His face was triangular, which fitted him very nicely. But then his hair... It wasn't too short, but it wasn't too long either. It was long enough to fall sloppily into his eyes - which it did at that moment - but not long enough to warrant a hair tie.

Raoul walked over to the young god and shook his hand. "I still cannot believe your mother let you come."

The young god smiled. "I'm surprised too. But I knew you'd need my help!"

"Imp..." Buri muttered. "No wonder she sent you to us. Get you out of her hair!"

Raoul smiled, coughed, and pushed the young man forward. "This is our new war mage, everyone. Thom of Pirate's Swoop."

So the god was the Lioness' son! Kel would soon find out that indeed... He was the son of Alanna, maybe in more ways than one. For one fact remained - he was staring straight at Lerant, longing in his eyes.

~

Princess Kalasin of Conté smoothed down the long emerald skirts. She was terribly nervous. Tonight, she and Kaddar would announce their betrothal. She loved him, yes. So, why was she nervous? Maybe because she hadn't done this thing before in her entire life. She was only twenty, and wasn't very keen to be in public eye. Now, without her consent, she would once again be thrown into the endless hell that was the Court of Tortall.

King Jonathan stood up, as did Queen Thayet. Kalasin sighed and rested her chin on her hand. Her parents had been half happy, half non-caring. Her mother was Ecstatic with a capital E that Kalasin was getting married. While her father... Jonathan had only nodded, and looked out the window. Her father had changed, that much Kalasin knew.

"We have an announcement to make," Jonathan began. Everyone was quiet, eyes trained on the King and Queen of Tortall. "Today Princess Kalasin of Tortall and Emperor Kaddar of Carthak announced their betrothal." He gestured for the two to stand up. Kalasin did, as did Kaddar. The entire room applauded the two.

When the sound died away, Thayet smiled. "Let the feast begin!"

"Nice going, Kally," Prince Jasson murmured to his twenty-year-old sister. He pulled one of her curls. "Now everyone's going to be paying attention to us." The seventeen-year-old had gone to the University with Thom, but was still there. Jasson had dark blue-green eyes, and closely cropped black hair. He and Liam looked like twins, since they both had the same features - only Liam was taller and older.

"Or to her ladyship," nineteen-year-old Prince Liam murmured, jerking his chin in the direction of Alanna. It was rare to see the King's Champion at High Court, especially in a dress. But his was one of those rare times. Alanna was swathed in a fine silver-gray dress that clung to her torso, and then flowed into a beautiful bell-shaped skirt with layers of silver, violet, and black silks. The bodice was lined at the top with small rubies and amethysts. A silver lacy and elaborate necklace inset with many opals and diamonds adorned her neck, while two similar cuff-bracelets were attacked to her wrists. Her fiery red hair was pinned up with emerald butterfly designs.

It was so unlike her that people stared and whispered about her while she conversed quietly with Sir Gareth the Younger of Naxen and her adoptive father. Many people didn't care about whether she would be hurt or wounded by their rumors, but the all prodded their neighbors, asking if they knew why the lady dressed so. One thing caught Kalasin's eye - her father was staring at Alanna... No... It wasn't staring. More like the way a hawk watches it's prey. Kalasin suddenly realized that the look in her father's eyes was lust! It couldn't be! He loved her mother... Didn't he?

As soon as the soup came, she put that thought into the back of her mind. She was just about to take a sip of her soup when a cry erupted from her little sister, Lianne. The cry wasn't soft and polite, it was blood curling. Kalasin saw why in a few moments. Her brother Liam was face down in his soup, eyes wide, face blue, blood dripping out of his mouth.

"Bright Mithros!" Kaddar whispered, holding onto Kalasin so that she wouldn't faint.

"Liam..." Thayet whispered, eyes wide and face whiter than marble.

Alanna stood and extended her hand, violet magic pouring out from her palm. The magic coated the bowls and gleamed brightly. "It's all been poisoned," she announced clearly.

"Guards!" Jonathan called. Soon a few guards came to Jonathan's side. "Arrest those in the kitchen. We shall spell them later." He turned to those still seated in shock at the tables in the dinning hall. "My lords, my ladies. I suggest that you all stay in your rooms for the rest of the night. Rest assured, this assassin will be taken care of."

~

"Poison!" Raoul asked in shock. The messenger nodded. "How...? Oh gods... Liam..."

Thom was white. Quietly he asked, "What type of poison?"

The messenger shrugged. "I know not my lord. Your lady-mother is still trying to figure it out. She might need to call in an apothecary. She has suspicions, of which she would not tell."

Everyone nodded. Silently they each mourned the Prince.

~

Thom sat on a marble bench in the only garden in Northwatch. It was dying, for fall was coming quickly. He loved the desolation of this dead garden. There was one section over by an apple tree where he had coaxed some green life out of a bunch of dead seeds. There was a sweet patch of grass, small wild flowers, and a nest up in the apple tree. But today, he was far away from that area. If he felt like getting up, he would walk over to the patch and drain his magic away from it and watch it die.

For some reason, he felt like being cruel. He could not imagine why, but the small fact remained. He wanted to be cruel. Gathering lightening in his hand, he savagely threw it at the apple tree, destroying it in an impressive explosion. People had gotten used to hearing these small explosions. After the news had reached them, Thom had walked out and destroyed a small marble statue in the hallway. Raoul, who knew Thom had been very close to Liam, sympathized. Of course, he was told to go outside if he had a need to destroy something.

So that was why he was out here. No one would dare disturb him, not when he was blowing things up and in such pain. They were too afraid he would kill them. Like that first Scanran attack... He thought with sadness and anger. The Scanrans, upon hearing of Liam's death had attacked Northwatch, expecting them all to be in mourning. They hadn't expected to meet a mage who was ridden with such anger and grief. All that was left of those Scanrans was a circle of blackened earth fifty feet wide, only twenty feet from Northwatch.

A twig snapped behind him. In an instant, violet and black fire gathered in his palm while he drew his sword, spinning into an attack mode. What he saw made him forget his magic and drop him sword. Forgetting his magic led to a loss of control. "Look out!" Thom yelled as he tried to direct the magic toward a stone. The magic exploded the rock and a good three foot deep hole.

"Well, now we know what happened to those Scanrans," the girl said, smiling. Thom looked her over. She was tall, around five feet and nine inches, and built with obvious muscle. She had light brown hair cut to a little below her earlobes, and friendly hazel eyes with a few freckles. She wore a plain white shirt, a black tunic, and blue breeches. She wasn't astoundingly gorgeous, but she had a certain prettiness to her.

The young man beside her nodded. "You're pretty good. We saw your grand entrance. Quite impressive," he murmured. Thom had seen this young man from far away when he had first arrived, but had been to shy in front of the whole group to talk to him. Aw shit... I do have a crush on him! Aw shit... This young man was handsome beyond all of Thom's wildest dreams. Thom didn't mind being different. He especially didn't mind if he was attracted to both women and men. In a way, he thought it gave him a unique perspective on life.

The young man had closely cropped brown hair with messy bangs that fell around his ears and eyes. His brown-sable eyes were warm and full of laughter and joy. He was about an inch or two taller than his female counterpart. He was well built, with slightly defined muscles. His legs were long, hands slender, face slightly triangular. Not once in his life had Thom wanted to bed a male as much as he wanted to this one. His slim waist hinted more than perfect grace. His slender, long fingered hands hinted he would be perfect at picking pockets and even more intimate things.

The two noticed Thom staring. "I'm Lerant of Eldorne, and this is Keladry of Mindelan. And you're Thom of Pirate's Swoop."

Since what Thom would have said is "I'm all yours," it was a good thing Lerant introduced Thom for him. "It's nice to meet you," he murmured, keeping his eyes on Keladry and not Lerant.

"Did you know Prince Liam very well?" Kel asked, slightly un-nerved by Thom's hazel gaze. His eyes kept flickering from hazel to violet to violet-green to hazel again. Thom only nodded, now fixing his gaze on the ground, flushing. The three sat in silence for a few moments until Buri came out, messed up Thom's hair, and pulled Kel away for some advice.

"So, why did you become a mage and not a knight?" Lerant asked, softly. "Or even some type of warrior."

"I have to much magic," Thom murmured, trying not to look at Lerant. "It would take too much time and too much attention away from training to be a warrior. I settled for doing half magic and half warrior arts. The result is a war mage." Thom risked a glance at Lerant and saw a thoughtful expression. "Can I ask something personal?" Thom blurted out.

"Sure," replied Lerant, puzzled.

"Are you and Keladry a pairing?" Thom whispered, so scared of the answer.

"Yes," Lerant said, flushing a tad. "We have an arranged marriage that'll take place the week before Midwinter. Why?"

On that one word, Thom's heart broke. "I congratulate you." Thom stood up. "May I ask a favor?" Lerant nodded. "May I kiss you?" Thom whispered, his voice hardly audible. Lerant sat there in shock, inclining his head very slowly. Slowly, cautiously, Thom leant down and kissed Lerant very softly.

And before Lerant could fully react to the feel of another man's lips on his, Thom ran into the keep.