Title: Colors Of The Wind
Summary: Five ways Kalasin of Conté never fell in love. Never. As in, ways that never happened.
Rating: PG-13
Words: 667. Response to Sean Challenge 24, and AU.
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I:
Kally and Miri talk often, not as two Rider group commanders, not as subject to princess, but as friends. Kally enjoys it, but she likes it better when she kisses her, and they curl up together, gazing at the firelight, and talk about the future. Their future.
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II.
Empress Kalasin peers over her husband's shoulder at the man he introduces to her as his chief healer, Zaimid Hetnim. The healer bows deeply and takes her hand, and she cannot help but blush as his lips brush her soft skin.
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III.
Kalasin and Kaddar have a quite pleasant relationship, but things are always rather awkward in the bedchamber. She doesn't know where her limbs are supposed to go—they never seemed to take up so much space before—and he looks at her slender form and tries to instruct her ("Your legs go here, and wrap your arms around my neck…"), but when she moves one of her legs a little too far to the left, he gasps in pain and has to bite the sheets to keep from yelping.
They give up for the night after that, and Kalasin, blushing hard, tells him for the tenth time that she is so sorry, and he strokes her hair, and replies that there's always tomorrow night, after all.
The next morning, Kalasin sobs her woes out to Varice over a large piece of vanilla cake. She is utterly inconsolable, and has gone through three lace-edged handkerchiefs so far. Varice finally gives up, folds the younger woman into her arms, and whispers that men can be hard to get used to.
Kalasin buries her head in Varice's soft blonde hair. "Why can't I be better at these kinds of things?"
"It's no fault of yours. You haven't experienced anything like that before."
Kalasin cries a little bit more, before finally wiping her eyes on the soft pink material of Varice's dress. "I wish he was you."
Varice rubs her back soothingly. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
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IV:
Kally loves Ozorne with all her heart, metal wings, steel talons, or not. He isn't comfortable indoors any longer, and when he comes back home, she joins him on the balcony, summer or winter, rain or shine.
"Go inside," he tells her firmly, one cold night. There is a storm on the horizon, and a blanket on the armchair isn't going to keep her warm.
Kally wants to protest, but the look in his eyes brooks no argument. Wordlessly, she pulls the blanket off her lap and wraps it around his body with painful care. The heavy weave is warm, but having his wings covered seems odd. "Stay safe."
"I'll be here in the morning," he assures her. "Go to bed."
She bites her lip and walks closer. The former empress hugs him tentatively, feeling the razor edges of his wings below the blanket. "I love you." Kally hesitates for a moment, before giving him a little kiss, despite his grimy, battle-scarred face.
Ozorne watches her walk back into her rooms, and only when she dresses in a warm nightgown, settles herself into bed, curling up into a ball—he doesn't remember her sleeping that way before—and finally falls asleep, only then, does he shake the blanket free, tuck his head under his metal wing, and rest.
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V:
Kalasin and Roald sleep together often, when they are young. Kalasin is prone to nightmares, and Roald tells her stories about butterflies and bunny rabbits and rainbows to help her fall asleep again.
Years later, they can't sleep together as often as they used to, but there is a room in the west wing of the palace, large, luxurious, relaxing, quiet, isolated, that they escape to when they can, and as Kalasin lies on the soft, downy red covers and falls asleep to the soft rhythm of his breathing, she wishes that this could last forever.
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