Fickle

K. Ryan

The Lioness, thought Kel, stones under her back, eyes wide-open to canvas, was not fickle.

The Lioness had George Cooper. A husband as disreputable as he, if Neal was right, was adored.

She was steadfast. A Kings Champion who fought with her monarch, rather than falling under the spell of eyes and teeth and well-kept facial hair.

She dealt with soldiers and magesworked with Master Numair without, as so many people seemed to dofluttering all over the place. She would look at Her Majesty, Queen Thayet, and think ruler rather than peerless, wondering if the red of her lips was truly the sort that did not smudge away.

If she had seen Buri in a towel, grinning wickedly under Raouls shadow, she would not have immediately felt drawn to surprisingly delicate collarbones or the swell of her breast. She would not have thought Raoul looked oddly splendid, outraged-but-newly kissed.

Her friends would not turn her blood. Her mouth would never be dry. Her skin would never ache from it. She would never kiss one man, like it, and then like the colour of anothers eyes. She would kiss one person, with as much skill as she did everything else. And she wouldnt need to magic her kiss, if you could even do such a thing. She would simply do it so well that neither person would ever want to leave, with none of the awkwardness she had found could sometimes happen with noses and jaws and bumping foreheads.

She would be strong, she would understand all the feelings that roiled through her blood, and she would be splendid. Nothing fickle, there, at all.

Note: Written for the first round of Goldenlakes SMACKDOWN: A fanfiction fight for Kels non-canonical hand. Competitor: Alanna of Pirates Swoop and Olau. Characters are in no way mine. The competition is the brainchild of Goldenlake message boards. They, likewise, neither own nor profit from these characters and/or their geographies.