Title: Prelude to a Promise 1/2
Author: Kate
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. They're not mine and I'm not making a red cent.
Summary: Selected scenes of Kalasin and Kaddar's courtship, wedding day, wedding night, and the day after. Kalasin/Kaddar, or Kallydar
Acknowledgments: I sincerely thank Rosie for her helpful beta-ing. I'm really grateful for her feedback. Any errors are, of course, mine, not hers.
The first night after her wedding night, (Kalasin's second night in Kaddar's palace), she is led to an extravagantly decorated room, which she learns will be part of her suite. She spent the previous night in Kaddar's chambers, in the same wing, but this office, sitting room, boudoir, bedchamber, wardrobe, miniature larder and privy closet are for her own use. The boudoir will be for her alone; no one will enter without her express consent. Kaddar has consented to sharing a bedchamber (initially, they were going to keep separate sleeping quarters, sharing a bed only when he summoned her. Kalasin protested that, but for tonight, the night before they leave on their wedding journey, she is to sleep alone).
The newly anointed Empress can immediately identify Varice Kingsford's hand in the decorating—the color scheme inspired, perhaps, by the portrait of Kalasin that her father sent to Kaddar along with the first draft of the marriage treaty. The treaty provided for her independent income and granted her status as Kaddar's monogamous consort—two highly unusual terms in Carthak. The contract had detailed larger matters, but at the moment, Kalasin wanted to think about the way the document would impact HER life, not the nations' futures. Kaddar had sent the signed document back to Tortall, with a portrait of himself. Over a year ago, Kalasin had studied the inscrutable paint for hours. It suggested life, described the face of a man who was young but strong, a good man, if a trifle hard, a shade too sure of himself. But the artist was no Volney Rain; it was a likeness without being a study of the soul.
She had sailed from Tortall with her mother's blessings, her father's love (and perhaps, also, his sorrow), her brother Roald's stoic good wishes, which masked grief that mirrored her own, her younger siblings' love, her extended family's affectionate advice, and her people's hopes for peace.
In the days before she left, many of the men and women who had mentored her and the siblings and friends who loved her pulled her aside to give her a word or two of advice and a small gift. Buri gave her surrogate child a refresher course in self-defense and vigilance. Buri was beginning to regret that she had no children; for as many generations as she could recall, her kin guarded Thayet's kin. Her mother and brother had died for Queen Kalasin. Buri herself would die for her Queen.
Who would go to guard Kalasin against the intrigues of Carthak? Kally laughed at the danger, but Buri wished that she had a daughter or a son to send to watch over the dark-haired, bright-eyed princess. And a child to send into knighthood with dark, shy Roald. And one to chase Liam and Lianne, to keep them out of trouble. And one to play with Jasson and Vania, the babies who weren't precisely ignored, but who weren't listened to quite as attentively as the heir.
Alanna, the Lioness, had given Kalasin a cunning knife that she could wear as a hair ornament (George's idea, Kalasin thought) and a reminder that even after she was married, her body belonged to her and to no other. "Share it only when you choose," the lady knight reminded her firmly. Kalasin's face had flamed, but she had nodded her understanding. "Even if he's your husband, he only has the right to touch you if you tell him to. Remember to practice the hold that Buri and I taught you girls." Kalasin hugged Alanna and thanked her, and assured her that she would always be welcome to visit Kalasin's home, if her wanderlust drew her to Carthak.
Shortly after, when Kalasin was saying goodbye to the pony she loved (it was still serving Vania, sometimes), Onua approached. She pulled Kalasin into her little office, and offered her two slender packets of herbs. "For your wedding night." The K'mir explained, eyes lowered slightly. "The one labeled in red ink will…relax you. Even if he's gentle, you'll be tense. It's much easier to get through the first time if you're not clenched like a nervous horse. Mix it in a cup of wine shortly before. It'll dull everything, just enough."
Kalasin had blushed a deep red. She was a virgin, and she was rather aggressively trying not to think about the process of changing that state. She understood the physics of the act, not only from living near a stable and from conversation with her mother, but also from studies to be a healer. "Does it get better after that?" She whispered.
"If he's a good man." Onua finally met her eyes, "And if he's not, you can always come home. You'll never be turned away from here because a man was cruel to you."
Kalasin's throat constricted, because she knew a little of Onua's story.
The Rider's horse mistress tried to lighten the situation with a joke, "Even though you aren't as horse-hearted as your sister."
Kalasin tried to smile at the joke, but it was all too serious. "What's the other one for?"
"If he's not gentle. Get the guards dismissed, pour him a cup of wine, slip this in, and then slip away yourself."
"Would it kill him?"
"Depends on how much you use. There are three doses in there. One makes a man sleep for a night. Two would send him into a sleep so deep only a god could wake him. That lasts for about three days. Three of these would send him to sleep in the Black God's realm."
Kalasin gulped. "Daine said he was a good man."
"Daine was comparing him to his uncle, who was pond scum scraped together in the shape of a man." Onua smirked, without humor, "She's a fine judge of character and all, but I want you protected, child. I went into my marriage blind as a bat. When he finally left me, Tahoi was the only thing between life and death. I swore I wouldn't see another girl abandoned that way. It doesn't mean I don't trust any men. There are fine ones about. Sarge is one; your father is another. But I don't know this one, and I won't have you stranded without any resources. If anyone asks, tell them it's a fertility potion. He'll take off his magical wards for that."
Kalasin embraced her. "Thank you," She whispered, then slipped away, because she suddenly desperately wanted to cry, or to rock in the old chair in the nursery. Of course, though, she ran into Daine. The Wild Mage greeted the princess cheerfully, but Kalasin abruptly asked: "Do you want to know how people have been saying goodbye?"
Daine arched an eyebrow and nodded.
"Buri and Alanna taught me how to break a hold—that was years ago, though. Buri has been making me practice. And Alanna gave me a knife that I can wear in my hair, and reminded me that I don't have to share my body at any time other than the ones I choose." Kalasin let that sink in.
The princess continued, "Want to know what Onua gave me?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Two packets of powder, one to relax me on the wedding night, and one to make the Emperor sleep with the Black God if he's unkind. I don't mean to sound paranoid, but it's starting to frighten me that they all gave me ways to kill or at least deter the man I'm supposed to marry. Is there anything I should know?" Blue eyes met hazel.
Daine pressed Kalasin's hand. "Kaddar is a good man, princess." She said it softly. "He won't force you into anything you're not ready for."
Kalasin nodded. She'd already begged Daine to tell her everything she knew about Kaddar, so there was nothing to gain that way. "Tell me the truth. About sex. Is it like the poets describe it? Or is it more like what makes Onua afraid?"
"I think that depends on the partners involved," Daine answered frankly. "With the right one, at the right time, it can be like the poets and bards say. With the wrong one, or even with the right one at the wrong time, it may be nothing special, or it may be awful."
"How do you know the difference?" Kalasin asked nervously.
Daine, for all that she was a midwife's daughter and a mage's live-in lover, was still modest when it came to putting in words the secret things that happen in the night between a man and a woman. "Your body will tell you." She said finally, "There is some pain the first time, but if he's slow, and makes sure you're ready, it does feel good."
"Thank you for being honest." Kalasin took a deep breath, and then exhaled. "I'm going to go pack these things."
"Wait. I have a gift for you." Daine said.
"If it's something to help me kill my husband, I'm staying home." Kalasin declared.
"No, nothing like that. I talked to Chavi for you, to explain to her what it will be like, crossing on the boat and all. She'll behave.
"Thank you Daine." Kalasin hugged her. "That will be very useful." Her throat clogged. "It will probably make the journey more pleasant, too."
"Do you want--," Daine began.
"No. I don't want to talk to anyone right now. I think I need to be alone for a while."
Of course, she couldn't get away to her room that easily. Thom of Pirate's Swoop and Roald, her Gifted brother, were waiting in the antechamber to the royal family's suite.
They stood when she entered. Thom began, "I can see you've lots to do, but I wanted to…I know my family already gave you a gift, but Roald and I…it's a small thing, but we thought it might be useful."
Her brother smiled a little. He and Thom had always been good friends, sharing the link of the Gift and their memories. "I got the idea from Kit and Daine. It's a little tune that you can whistle, which makes any spells on you visible. Thom worked out the execution of it, and all."
Thom looked embarrassed. He was only sixteen, but he was adult enough to say, "We've had so many good times together; I couldn't let you leave without giving you something to remember me by."
"As if I would ever forget," She smiled tremulously at both of them, because her mind was on overload. "Teach me?"
Thom and Roald whistled the tune together twice, without their Gifts, and once with it. Kalasin whistled once, without invoking her Gift. When the boys nodded that the notes were correct, the princess whistled the tune again and added her Gift to it. Light blazed from the jewel around her throat and the knife/hair ornament from Alanna and George. She saw protective spells on the hair clip/knife—strong protective spells.
Kalasin thanked the boys, but she began to sniffle, so Thom bowed formally (she hugged him and called him a silly oaf for being so distant and told him he was always welcome to study at Carthak's university after he exhausted Tortall's library). Roald kissed the crown of his sister's head, and told her that he would be back in a few hours.
Later that night, Cythera gave Kalasin a full stationary set—papers, envelopes, quills, ink stands, pigment mixes, a portable lap desk, candles, and a wax stamp with Kalasin's own personal crest. When Kalasin opened the desk, she found a letter from Cythera, and one from Uncle Gary, and one from each of the children. Even Gareth III, the youngest at seven, sent a note about and a drawing of his new dog, Princess.
Kalasin was in Carthak by the time she discovered the secret compartment where Cythera had hidden notes from Thayet, Jonathan and Roald…the three people dearest to Kalasin's heart. But then, Cythera always did have a knack for knowing what would be both precious and practical.
The king and queen of Tortall gave their oldest daughter sapphires, for her wedding jewelry, and words of love, though the words and stones inevitably fell short of their full meaning.
What did Kalasin give back? She gave words of love, and promises to be happy in her new life, and even a faint attempt at excitement (though that was, more or less, terror, disguised). She walked through the last weeks in a haze; she had withdrawn into herself.
She spent six months in the heat of Carthak, flirting with the exotic spices and people. And even, a little, with the Emperor. She was attracted to him, she realized with a pleasant little shiver, and he was kind enough. Their temperaments were very, very different. She was soft where he was unyielding—but of course, proponents of the match claimed that that meant that they complemented one another, that it was only a female/male difference. Of course, she was sometimes wild when he was serious…but they got along.
They were unable to have honest, ordinary conversations, due to their chaperones. The chaperones did not TRY to stop honest communication, but their presence made the couple feel awkward. The emperor and the princess got into the habit of exchanging letters when they saw one another at functions—nothing overly personal, nothing incriminating, but still, it connected them. She learned his politics and his habit of making an upper-case Q with an extra squiggle before learning the things he loved most in the world or the dreams that inspired him. He learned her ideals and hopes and habit of pressing so hard on the quill that she frequently broke the tip and caused inkblots before he learned that her eyes flashed when she was annoyed and the she squeaked when she giggled.
They kissed, several times. It began when he kissed her hand, in the Northern style, and held onto her just a little too long. The chaperones were indulgent—they were young and betrothed…of course they wanted to touch a little. He chastely kissed her cheek, and worked his way up to a delicate brush of lips over lips.
As they courted shyly, as though there were still a choice, the plans for the wedding marched forward. Kalasin felt that she had little to no control over the preparations. She didn't see that she exerted her control over things she absolutely didn't want—no slaves were permitted to do the decorations or entertainment. Only freemen (and women) who received wages were permitted to help. But to Kalasin, this was so natural that she did not even realize that she was being given her own way.
Princess Fazia, the Emperor's mother, marched forward, directing armies of flower-sellers, cooks, seamstresses, mages, traders and footmen. She seemed to see it as her duty to her son to plan his wedding; she did not seem particularly impressed by his bride-to-be or by the bride's taste or requests.
Guests Kalasin did not know were invited to a temple she had never worshipped in and a palace she had never lived in. A gown was designed according to an exotic fashion and sewn out of fabrics that had never before touched her skin. Foods and delicacies she had never tasted were ordered and prepared by the ton. The novelty of Carthak, the exhilaration of being feted and celebrated (albeit for superficial reasons), began to wear off.
She invited the delegation from Tortall and her family to come, though she knew full well that thanks to the war threatening along the Scanran border, they would not be able to leave home. The mage, Numair, and her brother Liam and Liam's knight-master represented Tortall at the event. Numair busied himself working with the craft-mages to make her suite comfortable and to catch up on developments at the university; she barely saw him. Liam was distant from his immediate older sister—she couldn't know that it was because her eyes revealed that she felt like a bird being forced to watch the door to her cage close. It reminded him far too much of Lianne's face, when she was threatened.
In later years, Kalasin remembered the wedding only vaguely. She was told often about the pomp and circumstance that filled all of Carthak on that day, of the wine and ale and rice and bread that were given freely to peasants in every corner of the empire, from Siraj to Shushin and Ekallatum, from Amar to Apal, from Zallara to Yamut, at the foot of the Roof of the World!
She heard about the parades of soldiers, who marched through the streets, singing songs to praise the Emperor and bring good fortune to his bride. Apparently, the legions of Ozorne's soldiers whom Kaddar had transformed into government builders donned their old, little-used Mithran regalia to lead her to the temple.
But on the day of her wedding, she was only vaguely aware that Varice and three maids spent hours bathing her, dressing her, arranging her hair. She felt like a doll that had grown to the size of a woman, or a girl who had become a doll. Her protests and requests were ignored as though they weren't heard, or as if the women did not all speak the same language. She did not eat breakfast, or lunch (not that she could have eaten anyway, but, still, a roll of bread would've been nice. It might have helped with the dizziness. But then again, the lack of food made a good excuse for her lightheaded floating).
The dressers all cooed over her, exclaiming that she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She was wrapped in veils and then transported (she was absolutely certain she didn't actually put weight on her feet until they reached the Temple, but she was never firm on the details of how that was possible) to an open coach. The thing was pulled by six white horses, all of which were brilliantly beribboned and dressed for spectacle. Three were dressed in the colors of Iliniat, three in the colors of the house of Conté. Each horse was yoked to its opposite, representing the union of Princess Kalasin to Emperor Kaddar.
Chavi and Westwind (the stallion/colt of Kaddar's mare of the same name, whom Daine knew), the rulers' preferred mounts, pranced together behind the coach and six white horses. Chavi was a magnificent palomino; her ancestor, Jonathan's favorite, Darkness, barely showed—she looked like Alanna's mare, Moonlight, come to life again. Westwind was a majestic, prancing bay
Everything in this day was about spectacle, Carthaki style, with nods at Tortall. Liam was dressed and waiting for his sister in the coach. Since their father could not attend, Liam represented him; he would give his sister's hand to the Emperor. They tried to laugh together about her bows and ribbons and ruffles and veils, but the ride was mostly silent, as the future Empress waved to the people of the Empire without registering or seeing any of them.
It didn't matter. Women who would never meet her swore that she was the sweetest creature they ever beheld. Even through the veils, they said, you could tell that she was smiling and joyful.
And so Kalasin rode through the streets of the capital, smiling and nodding to the peasants and slaves and merchants and people who came out to cheer the spectacle of a royal wedding. Kaddar awaited her at the steps on the Great Mother Goddess's Temple. She descended from the coach, suddenly realizing that she was wearing high-heeled sandals, and that her center of balance was significantly different.
She leaned on Liam's arm heavily as they climbed the stairs together. He gave her hand to Kaddar; the groom pulled back her veil, verifying before the world that he was receiving his promised bride. The people standing close enough stared at her shining face greedily, soaking in the moments.
The bride and groom turned and waved to their people, who believed that they were witnessing the beginnings of a love that ballads would be sung about. And balladeers did sing about the emperor and empress, because they were powerful and beautiful, and the Emperor never took another wife. But the love between them came later, came slowly, came strong. On their wedding day, they were still like strangers to one another. But at least they liked one another, and they did well enough standing together and leaning on one another.
They charmed their guests, and they waved to the public, and they survived the day of feasting. She managed a total of three bites of supper in between meeting people and doing official Empress things; he had learned how to politely devour food, so he managed to complete half of what was served to him.
All of these events led to the one event that Kalasin had, rather carefully, not thought about since she met Kaddar. Her wedding night.
Aaminah, Nadereh and Marah, Kalasin's new sisters-in-law, came to help her undress and to lead her to her husband's bed on her wedding night. They cooed in admiration over her dress, her figure, her clear skin, even teeth, and wide eyes. They tried to be kind, but Kalasin's nervousness made things awkward. She wished, as she had never wished before, that her mother and her sisters and her adoptive aunts were here to prepare her for this, this rite of passage on her road to becoming a woman.
Kalasin stood in her underclothes before her new sisters, listening to their fond stories about their only brother. She learned that he preferred being outside and with growing things to being inside, and that as a child, he spent half his life covered in mud and running from the tutors. He had been a mischievous child, prone to pranking his sisters and running wild with his friends. Kaddar was, in his sisters' estimation, a fair shot in archery, a competent swordsman and an enthusiastic rider.
His wife learned that the Iliniat sisters grieved and took pride in their brother's choices and sacrifices; he chose the university over being a warrior, and in time, he chose his people over his preferred career. Kalasin had already known that her husband survived Ozorne, and rebuilt his nation, that he was strong enough to withstand rebellions and the Immortals War and challenges that would have crippled a lesser ruler. But she saw him through the eyes of his family, who admired him and worried about him and still saw him as a dirty little boy who gave bouquets of weeds to his older sisters.
By the time that was over, she had been peeled out of the elaborate gown, bathed, and dressed in white silk nightgown. Fresh kohl lined her eyes and a light gloss lay on her lips. She was thoroughly perfumed and pampered, so finally, she was led, like a virgin sacrifice, to her husband's bed. He was not there yet. Each of her sisters-in-law kissed her forehead, blessed her with a traditional prayer for fertility, bid her good wishes, and then left her alone. At least her mother-in-law hadn't been there.
She scrambled out of the bed and crossed to the desk, where Varice had, as promised, left a bottle of Tortallan wine and two goblets. Kalasin had attached Onua's red-ink packet to the label on the wine bottle. She peeled the label cleanly, poured the powder into her cup, filled it with wine, and drank a little. She filled the other goblet, took her own cup and crossed to sit on the bed. She drank her wine, white and fruity, and tried to concentrate on that, and only that.
Kaddar came in, but she didn't notice. He watched as she drank the wine. She looked very, very far away as she stared out the window. She placed the goblet on a side table—and then some instinct must have prompted her to look up at the door. She met his eyes, and smiled a little. She stood, picked up a second goblet, already full, and carried it to him. "It's from Tortall. A dear family friend sent it, via Prince Liam."
Kaddar sipped. He preferred dry red wine to sweet or sparkling white, but he would drink this. Kalasin pivoted on her high heel and fetched her own goblet. She poured another glass for herself. "We should toast. To a fertile marriage, a prosperous realm and long life for the treaty."
"To a fruitful union, a happy Empire, and peace for our people." Kaddar offered.
They clinked glasses, and drank. Kalasin set aside her goblet, stood on her tiptoes and reached to kiss her husband. He kissed her back, gently and nearly platonically, for a short time, then pulled away. He set his cup down. "I didn't figure you for the type to make the first move."
She swallowed convulsively. "I—this is all—," She was blushing and flustered now. He had tasted wine on her lips, and tried to remember if he had seen her eat anything today.
"We don't have to get into that part right away. I thought we might talk a bit first," Kaddar proposed.
"Alright." Kalasin trembled a little, unsure and agitated.
"Please relax," he pleaded. "I'm not going to jump you, or force you into anything. I do think we should know each other a little. It's the first time we've had alone together in…" he thought.
"Ever," She concluded. "Forgive me, if I behave foolishly. The wine is making me stupid already, and this is all new to me."
"All?" He asked.
She flushed, and he could see that the blush ran from her scalp to her toes. The gown was so thin, he thought, as his body responded to the stimulus of her slender body under the liquid silk of the nightgown. He turned his back briefly. "Do you have anything to cover yourself?"
"No," She answered. "I haven't had control of my clothing or wardrobe in at least forty-eight hours."
"Well, take the sheet." He suggested.
She wrapped it around her shoulders. "You don't want to…consummate the marriage?"
"Oh. No. Well, yes I… I didn't say that. I just think that we need to talk first."
"About what?" Kalasin was shaking, and she wanted to beg him to just get it over with so she could stop worrying about it. "I'm here to hang on your arm, plan your parties and give you heirs. What more do you need to know?" She sounded a little more bitter than she intended.
"You don't believe that any more than I do." Kaddar said. "We're partners now. And I was led to believe that you chose to come here."
Her eyes were wide. "You mean you're not going to treat me like an ornament or a doll?"
"With the mother and sisters I have, I'd have to be a fool to think that about any woman." He told her. "You'll dress like a Carthaki woman, you'll be faithful to me, you'll bear an heir, perhaps a spare, and some daughters. But other than that, please yourself. If it pleases you to help me build hospitals and roads and balance contentious factions, and I hope it does—,"
"It would." She said hastily.
"Then you will. But if you'd rather, I don't know, sew tapestries, well, that's fine too. I just ask that you be as faithful to me as I am to you. If you're indiscreet, nothing I do will protect you; the conservative southern faction will stone you."
She didn't think he was speaking metaphorically. "And will you be faithful to me?" Kalasin asked, unable to believe her own frankness.
"In the treaty, I swore that I would take no other wife. Now I swear to you, while we are married, I will have no other woman." Kaddar was solemn.
Her eyes clouded, "While you live, you will be the only man whose bed I share, the only man I give myself to." She swallowed wine. "Before me, were there women?"
"Yes." He allowed. "None of them serious. I knew I would marry a foreign princess."
"I have kissed two men, besides you." She said. "Only once, each."
"Who else?" Kaddar asked, suddenly thinking how young she was for all of her maturity in the political sphere. And even, irrationally, jealous.
She looked down at her lap. "A knight I knew. He died during the Immortals War. I was only twelve or so. We both knew he wouldn't live out the night, and he asked me to give him a goodbye to remember in the Dark God's realms." She didn't say that she'd had a crush on him, but melancholy crossed her face.
"And the second?" Kaddar asked.
"A silly squire. One of my older brother's friends. Roald chased him away." She smiled a little, but her eyes were sad..
To chase away that shade of grief, Kaddar leaned forward and kissed her again. He was careful with her. Their lips moved together, until, eventually, his tongue teased her lips apart and invited her tongue to play with his. Her hands lifted to rest on his shoulders, and his hands tangled in her hair. Their breath mingled and mixed and came in gasps and low, satisfied murmurs.
After a very long time, his hands began to explore the territory of her back, her breasts, even her belly. She stiffened slightly, and then began her own tentative exploration. It wasn't half as awkward as she had feared; her body was directing her. It did feel good, did feel right. He rewarded her by showing what he liked—she responded in kind. After what seemed like a long time, they were ready to move into a new position.
Kaddar looked down at his bride. She was flushed. Her face was pink and her erratic breathing was a perfect counterpoint to his. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, ever imagined. He felt unworthy to touch her. "Are you sure?" He asked, very tenderly.
"Yes." Her eyes met his, and it was like she was speaking through a fog or some clouds. She raised her head to kiss him again, so he settled into a new position.
Their bodies met and danced until the dance was done.