Disclaimer: The good stuff belongs to the Queen of fantasy - Tamora Pierce. The song is "Just For" by Nickelback and I strongly suggest you listen to it whilst reading this chapter - I did. It just captures Neal's mood perfectly.

A/N: Well…uh, this chapter didn't quite turn out like expected. It's sweet in a twisted sort of way, but that doesn't particularly surprise me - I am a lust/violence writer on the side of romance. Can't imagine what possessed me to write this fic in the first place!

Anyway, you guys are amazing as regards reviews and I can't thank you enough - there's nothing quite like logging in to find a whole heap of reviews in your inbox.

Cami - Calm! I'm a K/N shipper, okay? Relax! Breathe! Whooo…I was cringing all the way through the last chapter because of Neal putting his foot in his mouth like that, but I'm glad you found it amusing. Incidentally, as regards the brain damage *cackles* too late!

Retribution

Feigning his fading footsteps down the corridor, Neal waited, listening hard at the door. Years of living in the palace had taught him how thin the walls were in this part.

After a moment, he heard a series of strange choking noises which quickly gave way to agonising sobs. He had never known Kel to cry. Never. Not when Joren and his cronies beat her up, or when she thought the Stump was going to kick her out after her first year. Never. And now that bastard had made her cry.

Neal's hands balled into fists as he stood in the deserted hallway, listening to his closest friend waste her tears on a man who clearly didn't deserve them. He was livid - how dare Cleon lead her on like that when he had no intention of marrying her? Did he derive some sort of sick pleasure from it?

I want to take his eyes out
Just for looking at you

Anger making him reckless, Neal resolved to corner Cleon after supper and teach him a lesson. It vaguely registered in his mind that Cleon had a definite physical advantage over the leaner man, but Neal had an element of surprise on his side and hopefully could land a few punches before Cleon recovered enough to retaliate.

He was so absorbed in planning, that he didn't notice Owen until the younger squire drew level with him. Owen opened his mouth to greet him, but Neal hurriedly put a finger to his lips, gesturing with his other hand to Kel's door.


I want to take his hands off
Just for touching you

Owen's perpetually cheerful expression faded and he looked at Neal with questioning eyes. Beckoning him to follow, Neal led him down the corridor to his chamber that was across the hall from Alanna's. As soon as the door slammed shut, Owen turned on the older squire with a glare. "What did you do?"

Shaking his head, Neal gestured for him to sit down. "It wasn't anything to do with me. You know Cleon's betrothed?"

"What?!" yelled Owen, jumping up from the seat he had only just sat down on. "To who?"

"To whom. Ermelian of Aminar." Neal spat the name hatefully. "She's a typical court lady - all frills and no brain." until he had voiced the thought, Neal hadn't even been aware of his growing scorn for court ladies. When he compared them to women like his Knight-Mistress, and of course, his best friend, they seemed shallow and false.

"I don't care who she is," said Owen sullenly, "Kel's worth ten of her."

Neal wholly agreed. "Cleon's a fool," he murmured, wondering what had possessed his friend to choose Ermelian over Kel. She was beautiful, yes, but it was a fake beauty that took hours of preparation and many servants to achieve. Not like Kel. She could be covered in mud and bruises from morning training and still look like a goddess.

He blinked. Where had that thought come from?


And I want to rip his heart out
Just for hurting you

Mind racing, Neal considered his numerous crushes throughout his page and squire years, rejecting each one with a sense of disgust at his younger, more foolish self. With a great effort, he brought his thoughts to rest on the most painful of these acquaintances - Yuki - and found, to his great dismay, that he harboured no regret for their parting. What was happening to him? There had never been a time when he could not identify some passionate melancholy within himself that inspired him to write poems to the various objects of his affection. Now, however, he could only think of Kel. Her grace with the glaive, her rare smiles, the way she tried to keep him out of trouble - often incriminating herself in the process.

Neal swallowed hard. He was all for deluding himself that he most certainly did not think about his best friend in any sense other than the platonic, but the romantic in him was already composing a poem to her gorgeous eyes.

"Gods…Cleon is such a fool…" he breathed, unconsciously gripping the arm of his chair until his knuckles turned white.


And I want to break his mind down
Yes I do

"You've already said that," piped Owen, peering at Neal with confused grey eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, have I?" shaking his head to clear it of distracting thoughts, Neal looked back at his friend. It was somewhat of a joke between the squires; Owen's worship of Kel - Neal supposed that it must have started because of the fight with Joren and associates that marked the day they met. Unexpectedly, an irrational feeling of anger towards the young squire over came him - everyone suspected that he had a crush on Kel, and Neal didn't like that one bit.

"Owen, I've got some work to do for Lady Alanna before supper - would you mind?"

Owen shook his head and rose, and Neal remembering, said quickly. "And don't tell anyone that Kel was crying - I doubt she'd appreciate it."

Before he had taken more than a step, Owen suddenly looked his friend. "You're going to fight him, aren't you?"

Mouthing soundlessly, Neal stared. Finally, thinking that the situation couldn't really get any worse, he nodded. "Not a word to anyone though, and no, you can't help." he knew that Owen would ask that question, and was ready for it. He wanted the pleasure of beating Cleon by himself.


And I want to make him
Regret life since the day he met you

Sighing regretfully, Owen gave him a half-hearted wave and disappeared out of the door. At last…Neal thought, throwing himself down on his neatly made bed. Unfortunately, now that he was alone, there was nothing to distract him from a rather pressing problem. What to do about Kel? He couldn't tell her, of course. If she didn't kill him, one of their friends would. It was funny, all of her friends were ridiculously protective of the girl squire, despite the fact that she was more able than any of them.


And I want to make him
Take back all that he took from you

His emerald eyes closed, and his mouth twitched into a frown. No, fighting ability was not everything. Kel had faced the prejudice of the Kingdom, and though she tried not to show it and never complained, the constant pressure must have been killing her. The fact that she had made it this far, and that she would go on to achieve her shield, was part of the reason why he loved her.

Neal sat bolt upright, yelping as he hit the back of his head off the headboard. Love?! No! Admiration, desire, adoration! Not love! The mere thought was so deeply disturbing that Neal was afraid to let his mind wander again. He didn't love Kel, of course not. Well, he did, but only as his closest friend, not…he shuddered. As a rule, Neal wasn't scared of love - Mithros knew he'd had a lot of crushes in his twenty-three years - but to love someone as…as unattainable as Kel was just courting disaster.


And I want to rip his heart out
Just for hurting you

Cleon was completely different to him. Where the younger man was fun-loving and brutally honest, Neal was sarcastic, suspicious and cynical. Kel may tolerate him as a friend, but he didn't think she'd even consider anything beyond that - he was too tainted.

Thoroughly depressed, he rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He had intended to get some sleep in order to be prepared when he fought Cleon, but his mind wouldn't give it a rest. Eventually though, Neal did fall asleep, an image of Kel's beautiful and deadly glaive dance playing in his head.


And I want to break his mind down
Yes I do

You know you want to…*wicked grin* Tell me what I'm doing wrong, and what makes for passable writing. Is it realistic? Just whatever comes to mind!