In the Rain

Disclaimer: The characters and story belong to the awesomely creative Sherwood Smith, not me, of course!

Point of View: Meliara

AN: This is an entry in The Dating Game Romance Contest, so it is a 'date' (although Mel doesn't really realize it, hehe) that Mel and Danric might have gone on. It takes place the day Mel and Danric duel at sword practice and Mel attends Petitioner's Court for the first time. At this point in the book, she has just returned to her room and read the Unknown's letter telling her the reason nothing is happening concerning Shevraeth's coronation: a goldenwood throne needs to be carved for a Queen. Now, on to the story! Yay!

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I tossed the letter away from me, willing the cold ache in my heart to go with it. According to my Unknown, Shevraeth was fashioning a goldenwood throne for his future queen. The image of a crowned Elenet swirled through my mind. She will make a good ruler, I thought, trying to banish the tight, restless feeling in my chest. Graceful, capable, subdued Elenet. The perfect queen.

Rising from the cushions, I paced the length of my room and stood at the dark window. Rain was pouring down in sheets, making the little pond beneath my room splash and surge with heavy droplets. The letter, more than the foul weather, was causing my mood – but the rain certainly wasn't helping. I wanted to take a walk to sort out my thoughts and spend my energy, but in this downpour not even I could enjoy the solitude of the royal garden's hidden paths.

Still, there was an entire palace to wander. I extricated myself from the delicate layers of my court gown and slipped into pale blue dress, pulling on some comfortable slippers before removing my elaborate headdress. My hair tumbled down my back, and I let it flow unrestrained, wishing the rest of me could feel as free.

I walked quietly away from my rooms, trying to calm my thoughts as my wandered steps restlessly increased.

Why am I feeling like this? I couldn't arrive at any answer. The thought of Elenet as Remalna's ruler was not distressing. But there would be someone next to her, as king. Shevraeth. Was he the reason for my discontent? I had finally admitted that Shevraeth would be a good king – the Petitioner's Court had provided sufficient evidence to put any lingering doubts to rest. So the fate of the government was certainly not what was bothering me.

It had to be something else. I could feel the answer tickling the back of my mind, and I stopped in the middle of the hall, closing my eyes. Breathing deeply, I willed myself to let down the walls around my reasoning. I knew I was on the verge of understanding as an emotion flitted to the top of my mind – what was it?

"Meliara?"

My eyes flew open and I was jerked out of my reverie – to find myself staring directly at Shevraeth. Where did he come from? I didn't even hear any footsteps! Stunned, I blinked a couple times, reminding myself that this was a palace full of courtiers – I should have known I would run into one during my walk. Of course, with my luck, it had been Shevraeth, and he had even had the good timing to appear just as I was about to figure out what was troubling me. Hoping he wouldn't notice my agitation, I belatedly remembered to curtsy.

"Ah. Please forgive my indecorum," Shevraeth began, gesturing to the stack of documents in his arms. I saw that I wasn't the only one who had dispensed with my restricting Court garments – Shevraeth was now wearing a dark, comfortable tunic completely devoid of gems. Not that his current appearance isn't admirable, I found myself thinking. Wait a second – this is Shevraeth I'm looking at here! Admirable? Alarming, more like.

A servant I had not noticed before was stepping forward to take the papers from Shevraeth, who bowed gracefully, sending me a politely puzzled expression. "More research? I thought all the historical preparations for Nimiar's Adoption Ball were complete." Glancing at the distinctive doorway that the servant had withdrawn into, I realized my steps had led me habitually to the library.

"No, I was just walking and thinking. You needn't worry about me interrupting your work," I said, trying and failing to keep my voice light. I made to brush past Shevraeth and continue on my way.

"Might I make an inquiry?" he asked, barely a hint of his usual drawl in his deep voice. I grinned at him in spite of my mood.

"You just did," I replied, pleased to put that most annoying response to use. "I guess… I could grant another question, though," I said reluctantly, thinking it would be too impolite to deny any more of Shevraeth's attempts at conversation. He smiled briefly.

"Thank you. You see, I was actually not planning to work tonight, but rather, to enjoy a relaxing evening," he began, then paused for one of his assessing glances. I was sure he was noticing my uneasy stance and preparing a barrage of interrogations – and the last thing I needed was to let it slip that I knew about Elenet's goldenwood throne, which would undoubtedly lead to more questions that I wasn't prepared to answer. I braced myself.

"Would you care to share some hot chocolate?"

I stared for a second. This was definitely not what I had expected.

"Hot chocolate?" I repeated faintly, my voice a mixture of bewilderment and relief.

"Yes. I recall my father mentioning your fondness for it during the breakfast you shared in Renselaeus."

"I – Well, yes, I like it. I suppose I would care for some," I said falteringly. It is the civil thing to do, I reminded myself, feeling heartened I could accept the offer without too much apprehension. I doubted if I would ever feel entirely comfortable around Shevraeth, but it had been easier to avoid quarrels for the past few weeks, and I wanted it to stay that way. "I haven't eaten since Petitioner's Court ended."

"We must be running on similar schedules," he smiled, giving the servant reemerging from the library orders for our refreshment. I noticed that Shevraeth's gray eyes looked somehow warm and inviting when he smiled. Warm and inviting? How did that thought get inside my head? Oh - I must be thinking of the chocolate, I reassured myself. Of course. I certainly am hungry.

The servant departed, and Shevraeth gestured down the corridor, away from the residence hall and the area of the palace I usually wandered.

"Shall we continue this way?"

"If you wish," I shrugged, feeling him glance at me as we began our walk.

"Did you find Petitioner's Court to you liking?" he asked. I nodded, clasping my hands happily in front of me. I had wondered if he would start interrogating me now that we were alone, but my suspicions readily evaporated.

"Yes, very much! I'm glad I finally went. I thought it was quite an intelligent way to conduct Remalna's affairs. Discussing the petitions was the most interesting part, and – " I realized I was babbling. "It was all very intriguing," I finished.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, and I glanced at him quickly, trying to divine some hidden message. His impenetrable expression told me nothing, as usual, and my eyes had soon wandered from his face. Shevraeth had a very agile walk, I surreptitiously noted, his boot heels almost as silent as my slippers on the tiled floor. Stealthy and strong, I found myself thinking, and quickly snatched away my gaze. Huh! What an odd thought. The hot chocolate better get here soon – I'm getting light-headed from lack of food. That's it.

"Here we are," said Shevraeth, pulling back a tapestry for my entrance. "You've not visited here before, I believe." Having no idea where he had led me, I shook my head, stepping through the tapestry – and stopped short with a gasp of delight. The corridor was beautifully tiled and adorned, but the décor paled behind the countless paintings displayed on the walls. Portraits and landscapes extended as far I could see, with the dozen halls that intersected ours exhibiting even more works.

"The Athanarel gallery," I murmured, controlling the urge to rush forward childishly as I walked to the nearest picture. "You're right. I never had the opportunity to have a squint – I mean, a stroll, in this area." Ugh. A 'squint'? What am I thinking? I sound like an utter rustic!

I forced myself to examine the closest picture, staring at the painting of an elaborately jeweled man in old-fashioned clothing. The artist had captured his astonishingly pompous expression flawlessly, preserving it for the centuries. The man grinned widely with his chest puffed out haughtily, his weak chin and poor physique doing little to distract from the gaudy jewels and conceited expression he wore.

"Quite a Court decoration, no?" Shevraeth commented. I whirled around to face him, blushing.

"I – That's not – You know I wouldn't call anyone in Athanarel that anymore," I rushed, feeling my face glow as I remembered insulting him over our campfire, so many months ago, during the rebellion. "You know I just called you that because I was ignorant, I didn't know anything about Court, I was angry – " He held up a hand to cut me off.

"You know, I really find 'Court decoration' to be quite an apt term," he said, his eyes revealing inner laughter. I was so surprised that I didn't even notice myself taking his arm until he had guided me past several more paintings. "It defines the useless aristocrat so very well," he continued. "I must profess my gratitude for the introduction to your splendid terminology."

"Huh. Well, you're quite welcome, I suppose!" I laughed, feeling a little less tense. "So, who exactly in Athanarel would you say is 'aptly' defined as a Court decoration?" I was curious to see if I could get closemouthed Shevraeth to speak an opinion about any of his soon-to-be subjects. Naturally, the most I got was a slight raise of his eyelids and another inscrutable answer.

"I don't doubt you have to judgement to identify all the ostentatiously useless adornments to our court on your own," he replied, "although, I confess I find their wearying antics much less troubling than some by the more subtle members of the kingdom."

I wondered who he was alluding to – Grumareth? Arthal Merinder? Azmus had recently discovered some of their suspicious activities. Or Flauvic? I couldn't think of anyone more subtle, or more unnerving – yet there was no evidence that he was involved in any plots. Perhaps Shevraeth was talking about Elenet? She was always discreet and tactful – in public. Maybe she and Shevraeth had had a fight, or something. I could see how a disagreement with one's love would cause trivial annoyances to seem far less significant. Not that I have much experience in the matter, I thought, feeling slightly chilled despite the warmth of Shevraeth's arm touching mine.

"Subtle," I repeated, pulling my thoughts back to the present. "I guess it's not me you're worrying about!" I had been trying for lightness, but Shevraeth's deep laughter took me by surprise.

"Not at the moment," he assured me.

Not at the moment - so you've been concerned about me some other time? I wondered. Recently? Why? My questions were again unanswerable – perhaps I was looking too hard for hidden messages. I decided to return the conversation to more discernable matters.

"Is there a specific painting you enjoy?" I asked politely. Shevraeth stopped walking and nodded to the painting in front of us in response, returning his hands to their usual thoughtfully clasped position behind his back. I stepped forward to have a look.

"Renselaeus," I breathed, easily identifying the landscape from my visit the previous year. The capital of Shevraeth's country was captured spectacularly, its castle and waterfall gleaming, the vivid colors of a sunrise reflected in the water creating a beautiful scene. "It's just like I remember it," I said, not taking my eyes from it.

"Is it a good memory?" Shevraeth asked, moving forward to stand quite close to me.

"How could my memories of the rebellion be good?" I countered. I shook my head and turned to face him, wincing at the implications of my words. "I don't mean to say you weren't hospitable. The palace was lovely, and the food, but…"

"I understand," he said, and I could feel his gray eyes read my regret. "Those memories are painful. And… I do not wish to be the embodiment of your regrets, the reminder of actions you would rather forget. Though you see, we are not, as you assumed on your visit, enemies anymore."

"I know we're not enemies," I replied quickly. "I don't want to see you as a reminder of my regrets, either – not that I couldn't use a few strong forewarnings to prevent more of my trademark blunders." Shevraeth grinned slightly at that comment, and I was relieved to see his eyes rekindle with warmth, losing a bit of anxiety I hadn't noticed before.

"So if we are not enemies, what are we, then? I do know one thing that can aid a person who wishes to avoid future oversights, and helps far more successfully than a haunting regret," he stated, then paused. "A friend."

"I – that sounds nice, I mean – aren't we already friends – to a degree?" I sputtered.

"Your uneasiness in my presence is usually quite evident," he said quietly. "Not to mention the number of misunderstandings we've enjoyed. And we have never quite sought each other out to share hot chocolate before tonight."

"Well, yes, but – we've been doing better lately, haven't we? At Trishe's riding party, and sword practice this morning… and right now – we're friends now. And I do much prefer hot chocolate to quarreling," I added.

"I quite agree," he said, surprising me with a full, energetic smile – one that I couldn't help returning. "Speaking of hot chocolate…" I followed his eyes down the corridor and saw Shevraeth's servant approaching with a silver tray bearing two steaming mugs. Shevraeth took the drinks and handed one to me as the servant departed.

"What shall we toast to?" he asked. I quickly lowered the cup from my mouth, having forgotten the niceties.

"Hmm… Oh! To friendship, of course!" I grinned, pleased to come up with a fitting toast.

"To the creation of new and better memories," he returned. We both drank and Shevraeth gestured an invitation to continue down the hall. I was actually starting to enjoy the evening, I realized as we fell into step and wandered through the gallery, sipping chocolate occasionally. I didn't really notice the route we were took through the maze of pictures, trusting Shevraeth to lead the way.

I was soon engrossed in asking questions about the paintings, which Shevraeth answered readily in his deep, melodious voice. He seemed to enjoy imparting all of his knowledge to me – well, almost all of it. At one point we passed the portrait of a stately, pale-haired lady (who had the same gray eyes as Shevraeth, I noted) and he paced by without mentioning it. I wondered if the picture was of a Renselaeus ancestor, and why Shevraeth seemed uneasy – but I contented myself to asking about the countless other paintings.

That voice is more than a reward for containing my curiosity, I thought, as Shevraeth quickly regained his mild expression and murmured in his low, soothing tone about a landscape I had pointed out. I found that his presence calmed some of the nerves I had been feeling since receiving the Unknown's letter. Drifting along the gallery hall next to him, I got lost in my thoughts, some examining the surprise that I could feel comfortable around him, some pondering his amazingly handsome voice. I only jerked out of my second reverie of the night when I realized Shevraeth had stopped talking – and was sending me a considering look.

"Do the paintings not draw your interest? I don't wish to monopolize your evening. "

"Oh!" I exclaimed, "No, they do – I suppose I just enjoy the… auditory delights… more than the visual," I contrived hurriedly, hoping he wouldn't take offense for my attention lapse.

"Yes," he said thoughtfully, "I have noticed your enthusiasm for music." I nodded in agreement to his partially correct statement. Music, your voice – all very delightful auditory satisfaction. "Although, I believe there are few particular paintings that would spark your interest," continued, smiling. I just looked at him, so he stepped forward and touched my shoulder lightly, turning me around. I gasped – and my mug of hot chocolate clunked to the floor – as I stared at the painting.

"She looks – she looks just like my mother," I breathed, awestruck, as I looked up an elegantly adorned queen. "The way I remember my mother, anyway," I continued, and tore my eyes away from the portrait to look at Shevraeth. He nodded, confirming my thoughts.

"Your Calahanras ancestors," he said. "Portraits of all the rulers and their family members are housed here. I thought you might like to see them." I looked at the portraits neighboring the queen and saw more people that resembled my mother, and Bran, and myself.

"You were right," I replied, taking in an amazing feeling of history and family. I was happier than I would have thought possible a few hours ago. "I – I just thank you, very, very, much. Truly."

"You're welcome." He appeared as elated as I was – and for a second, I felt the urge to embrace him gratefully. Then, as usually happened when I was in his company, memories of some of my not-so-thankful deeds sprang to mind and I looked down, embarrassed.

"Burn it!" I groaned as my eyes fell on the chocolate stains Shevraeth and I had collected after I had dropped my mug. I picked up the mug and examined my skirt, finding that the dark stains were already drying. There was no hope for my pale gown, and I grimaced as I saw that Shevraeth's trousers were ruined as well. "I'm so sorry," I wailed. "I was just so surprised when I saw the painting, and I spilled chocolate everywhere, and I just ruined – " Shevraeth once again cut off my prattle, but instead of holding up his hand, he reached over and touched mine.

"Forget it," he said, and smiled at me with intent eyes. "You didn't ruin anything – actually, you just provided me with a very fortunate opportunity." Taking the empty mug from my hand and setting it on the ground with his, he held out his arm to me. I accepted it hesitantly – raising an eyebrow in my best questioning expression, to which Shevraeth quickly responded as he escorted me down the hall. "I've never enjoyed being shut up in the palace for days on end – usually I take a ride or a walk to get away from court constrictions," he admitted. "But the past few days the rain has been unending, and I haven't had the opportunity." We turned a corner and a door leading outside came into view. "I couldn't in good conscience put my servants through the task of drying and mending clothes damaged by the rains. However, if the clothes were already beyond repair…"

"You could wear that waterproof cloak of yours," I pointed out. "Then the rain wouldn't bother you at all." He shook his head.

"The cloak would shield the rain, but it would also hinder the freedom."

"So you really want to go outside in this weather?" I asked in disbelief, remembering the stormy splashing of my pond.

"The rain has abated somewhat," he replied, opening the door to reveal the dark night sky and a stream of steady droplets. He turned back to me, smiling. "Foul weather has never thwarted you before, has it?"

I opened my mouth to argue – yes, just the other day I couldn't bring myself to go on a walk because of this confounded rain, making me feel completely lost – but stopped myself. I didn't want to start an argument (or, more accurately, embarrass myself by getting angry for no reason) but I wasn't sure whether to step out into the rain or airily head back to my rooms. Glancing at Shevraeth again, I saw he was waiting patiently for my answer. I smelled the sweet rain, thought of Shevraeth's other kind gestures, and my decision was made.

"As I've already destroyed the gown, I might as well have a little fun in it," I grinned. Shevraeth held the door open for me and I stepped just outside the building, looking up at the falling raindrops. I felt his hand press gently on the small of my back, and I moved forward so that he could step out and close the door. Glowglobes along the paths brightened the night to twilight duskiness, allowing me to glance at Shevraeth as I wondered if he was truly enjoying this drenching escape.

How does he manage to look so kingly even when he's soaked? I mused, watching his meditative form. He stood in his usual manner, hands clasped behind him, but his eyes were closed instead of alert and assessing, and he lifted his face to the rain. My eyes traveled over his strong arms and chest, and I turned away quickly, suddenly uneasy. I focused my attention on the sensation of the rain, extending my hands to catch more of the pouring drops.

"You said earlier that you were 'walking and thinking', I believe," said Shevraeth, his voice blending with the hum of the downpour. I dropped my hands and turned to him, but he closed his eyes and again lifted his face to the sky as I did so. "Did you… come to any conclusions?"

"Not really," I sighed. "I think I was almost on to something, but then I met up with you." I wondered why he was asking – he couldn't possibly know that I know about him and Elenet – or about goldenwood throne, I assured myself.

"Perhaps it is for the best," he said. I shrugged, then realized he still had his eyes closed.

"So you're enjoying the rain?" I asked.

"Its calming nature is something that I am often, of late, in need of," he replied.

"That's how I feel about the forests in Tlanth. Sometimes I wish I was still there."

"Do you desire that often?" he asked. I bit my lip before venturing anything.

"Not often… just sometimes. When things get too hectic. Right now, though, I'm glad to be in Athanarel," I found myself saying, and realized it was true. Shevraeth finally turned to gaze at me and our eyes locked for a second, the drumming of the rain the only sound. A moment later I looked away for reasons I couldn't grasp, willing myself not to blush.

"I profess my agreement to your sentiments – a suitable note on which to end our evening," said Shevraeth smoothly, ignoring my confusion. He looked over my head and gestured to a small path, explaining, "This should take you back to the residence hall. My own destination is in the opposite direction, but I don't doubt your ability to find the way without assistance."

"I think I can manage," I grinned, knowing he was remembering of my fugitive trek across half of Remalna. He smiled and caught up my hand, kissing it lightly and bowing. I curtsied in return. "Thank you for the hot chocolate," I heard myself say politely, my thoughts buzzing to the feeling of his lips on my skin.

"Thank you for the rain," he replied, giving me the same casual salute he had used at sword practice that morning, and was gone.

I turned down my path and hurried along it, soon arriving at a servant's door that serviced my grateful entry. I flew up the narrow stairs and into my room, trying not to create puddles as water dripped off my soaking gown and hair. I reached for a warm, dry nightgown to change into and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

I flushed – I should have known better than to get soaked in a pale gown. Not even in the relative darkness could have obscured the way the fabric was adhered to my skin. So that's why Shevraeth kept closing his eyes, I realized, he was avoiding invading my, ah, privacy. I shook my head, trying to banish the feelings of embarrassment. He's seen me in plenty of worse situations than a clingy gown, I reminded myself, struggling out of the wet garment and pulling on my nightgown. I twisted some water from my hair before slipping thankfully underneath the warm covers of my bed.

It's been an odd night. I had felt restless and lost after that letter from my Unknown, which usually wasn't the case – and then I had run into Shevraeth and actually managed to enjoy his company. The portraits of my Calahanras ancestors had been just what I needed to cheer up a bit. Someday I might take Bran there, and we could look at them together – but for now, I wanted to keep my memory of the gallery, with Shevraeth, unshared. Had he really been planning not to work – or had he just cancelled his plans to have hot chocolate? I didn't know. As for that picture of the suspected Renselaeus ancestor, I decided to put it out of my mind.

I snuggled into my pillows, reviewing our conversations. I was pleased to conclude that I hadn't made a complete fool of myself, or at least Shevraeth hadn't seemed to think me one. Why do I care what he thinks? Why do my thoughts kept drifting back to him? I couldn't find an answer – or more, accurately, I forced those questions out of my mind. I still had no idea what to make of Shevraeth and Elenet, or that goldenwood throne.

In any case, Shevraeth had made me feel better. I closed my eyes and fell asleep, thinking of a deep, calming voice that reminded me of the sound of the drumming rain.

**AN: Coolness! This is like 9 ½ pages long, very long for me. Hope you liked it! If you were confused about some of the references to pictures in the gallery, go to . The snippets by Sherwood Smith were some of my inspiration: one talks about the portraits of the Calahanras royalty, and one mentions that Vidanric's great-grandmother is wearing the ring he gave Mel in her royal portrait. (Which is why he kinda didn't want to draw her attention to it, heh heh.) I just made up her description. And that picture of the Court decoration was just completely made up (funny, all the pictures Mel and Danric walk by seem to trigger memories and conversation…). Oh yeah, I didn't purposefully put Mel in a pale gown in the rainstorm (what a nightmare!) I just made it light-colored to show the chocolate stains, then I kinda thought it would be a nice way to show Danric's gentleman nature, and Mel took it in stride. Hmm… it might seem like there's a lack of fluff, but it really would've been odd if they had just started kissing or something, you know? Hopefully those tidbits of Mel's thoughts about Danric made up for it (she really can't tell she attracted to him, for some reason, I guess she just keeps pushing the realization away). Oh yeah, no one else has entered the Contest yet, have they? What's up with that? Maybe the deadline should be pushed back… or I guess it could just be looked at as a story suggestion. I must absolutely thank BlackRose25 for her awesome inspiration! Everyone, please review and tell me what you think! -Shannon