A/N: This origanally was K/N, but Neal doesn't have that much empathy, so...
The fall air still remained warm on this side of the Vassa, though laced with a pleasant, chilly tang. Keladry of Mindelan sat underneath the flaps of her tent and surveyed that land that was to be Camp New Haven. So much had been accomplished already, but there was still so much to do, and winter was coming fast upon them. They were short on everything- the local fiefs, though willing to donate towards a refugee camp once, were hard-pressed to find the supplies to give as they prepared their own homes for the brutal northern winter.
Sitting here, everything seemed so distant. Things had changed since she had killed Blayce-since she had become the Protector of the Small. Even now she was isolated-her tent, the commander's tent, lay far away from any other habitation. Ever since she had returned, the refugees, including Fanche, who had once hoisted upon her a strange and tumultuous companionship, treated her with muted awe and reverence. She no longer enjoyed an easy familiarity with her people. She still had their respect, their trust, Gods, she had heaps and mountains of that. But she no longer had their friendship. It was that that she missed the most.
Looking out across the shadowed horizon, the ache of loneliness intensified. The trees, the chirping crickets, even the stars seemed so far away. Just like the Kel who she had once been. She was struggling with this strange transformation. Struggling and drowning fast, with no one to save her. Why, oh, why had everyone abandoned her, when she needed them the most?
It was not as if they knew, though. She kept her emotions even more tightly in check now, carefully tucked behind her steely mask. In striving to be strong for her people, she distanced herself even more from them.
But it was the nights that she struggled the most with; the dark, lonely nights, left with only her thoughts, too afraid to sleep and face the dreams, so much more real and terrifying than any she had had before. Yes, it was the nights that were the worst. For even the Protector of the Small could not lie to herself.
She felt as if she wasn't even real anymore. She was so cold inside. She longed for a simple touch, a human embrace, just to reassure her. But no one seemed to be there for her, not Neal, or Merric, not Tobe, not even Raoul or Wyldon or anyone else she knew. She felt alone.
She was so caught in her nighttime reverie that she did not hear the softly approaching footsteps on the grass. Nor did she register the presence until Dom slid onto the grass next to her.
He slid his arm around her back, and gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She felt her soul thaw just a little inside his embrace.
His lips were soft and cold against her cheek as he spoke. "You know, lady knight, you don't have to be so lonely. You could ask for a little help once in a while. We don't want you to be perfect—we want you to be you—and we're losing you."
"Mmph—" she started to reply, but her words were muffled as his lips caught hers in a kiss. As she pressed her body against his, warming with the contact, she thought, maybe nights aren't so bad after all. Not if you have someone to be lonely with.
