Title: blinded

Notes: Sequel to "Aware" - probably a good idea to read that first!

Summary: "Kel, sometimes grief drives people to do things they don't understand. That doesn't mean they didn't want to do it."

Inspired by Zerrin of the Wind who asked a question that made me think. I'm not sure if this answersyour question, Zerrin, but I think my muse isn't done with this yet.

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blinded

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Keladry of Mindelan, Lady Knight and Second Commander of Third Company feels older than her twenty two years. She watches the sparrows flitting around the tall grasses of the empty field, and feels more alone than she did even as her first year as a page.

"Young Tobe will have words when he sees you've been sitting in the mud, Lady Knight."

Lord Raoul, her one time knight master and now close friend, crouches on the ground beside her, steadying himself with a large hand on her shoulder.

"I didn't ask Tobe to form an attachment to my hose," Kel says blandly, picking at a yellow daisy and shredding it with her callused fingers. "What brings you to the middle of nowhere, sir?"

"A friend," Raoul says simply. She looks at him curiously, watching as he pulls a face of disgust and settles onto the ground next to her.

"Buri will have words when she sees your hose," Kel says pertly.

Raoul grins. "Yes, but I can help her forget."

"Not everything is easy to forget," Kel says finally.

"No," Raoul agrees. "I imagine you've been told this several times already, Kel, but what happened to Neal wasn't your fault."

She knows it wasn't her fault; knows that she did everything in her power to help her friend, but sometimes even Keladry of Mindelan fails. "I know," she whispers, her throat dry and scratchy. "I know that, sir."

But knowing that doesn't change the fact that Roami is fatherless. It doesn't change the fact that Yuki is a widow, or that Kel lost her best friend.

"Has anyone ever told you about Francis?"

Kel shakes her head, watching the sparrows.

"We started our page training with a young boy, Francis of Nond. Your older sister is married to what would have been his nephew."

"Jacques," Kel says.

"Alanna was still a page then – she was younger than the Prince and our crowd. You would've heard of the sweating sickness? Well, Francis was the only squire to die of it. Jon – King Jonathan – told me later that Alanna felt guilty because she had the healing Gift but was afraid to use it. She felt that she could have saved him, so it was her fault he died."

Kel appreciates Raoul's effort in talking to her, and is fascinated by a glimpse into the lives of the Lioness and him as young pages and squires, but Raoul's comfort is not what she needs. She needs strong arms and cinnamon to hold her. She needs to forget she's a Knight and hide her Yamani mask. She needs to cry and hurt like a lost little girl.

"I miss him," Kel says instead, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. "I miss his sarcasm and his grumpiness in the morning. I even miss wanting to hit him."

Raoul chuckles and rests a warm hand on her back. "You were yearmates, Kel, and growing up together means you were perhaps closer than family. There is nothing wrong with grief, and no shame in crying. No one will think less of you for it."

Raoul hesitates, and then climbs to his feet. "Evening meal will be served soon, Kel, and it's a long ride tomorrow."

"Yes, sir."

She hears the sound of his footsteps as he moves away, and then they pause.

"Kel, sometimes grief drives people to do things they don't understand. That doesn't mean they didn't want to do it."

His footsteps fade away, and Kel is left alone in the field once more staring at the sparrows as they scavenge for seed. Had Raoul been watching he might have seen a young knight crying alone in a field of yellow daisies.

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It's later summer when Third Company rides toward Corus. The leaves are changing to fire and flame colours, and the fields are long stretches of long grass bleached gold. Kel loves the last summer with its gentle breezes and sunny smells; so much warmer than early spring with mud and rain.

She closes her eyes and lets her body sway with Hoshi's steady gait; she trusts the mare to behave with her sweet temperament in a way she would never expect of Peachblossom. With her eyes closed, she rocks comfortably in the saddle, feeling the warmth of the evening sun gentle on her skin as the sweet smell of hay tickles her nose.

When she opens her eyes they've arrived at their campsite – a painted gelding stands out bright against the other bays and duns and dapple greys. Her insides clench and turn cold despite the summer sun; only one person she knows rides a painted horse.

Hoshi nickers and dances beneath Kel, eager for water and feed, and beside her Peachblossom stretches his neck out to the closest gelding picketed within reach. She pulls his head back in time, and glares at him with uneasy eyes. The gelding sighs and snorts in resignation.

Tobe steals away her reins when her booted feet slide to the ground; the young boy looking at her with something akin to sympathy on his face. Kel doesn't like to think he knows about one rainy night after she buried her best friend, but there's not much Tobe doesn't know.

With her horses being cared for, and a camp already built, Kel stands awkwardly between the picketed horses and tries to tell herself that she's being silly. She tries not to remember the smell taste of salty sweat on bronzed skin, and understands now why it's perhaps best for woman not to be soldiers.

"Come on, Mindelan," someone calls. Another jostles her back and she stumbles forward, one lead foot in front of another to where the campfire flickers and pops brightly and the soldiers are gathered.

Maybe, she hopes, something inside her will have faded with time again, just like it did for Neal and for Cleon. Maybe when she's sees him she'll know she's being silly and that it all meant nothing really.

Dom smiles at her crookedly with his ripe berry lips, but his eyes don't meet hers and he doesn't make room on the log for her as he once would have done. Instead she sits beside Merric and stares at her feet; her insides are clenching and she feels sick.

As the sun sets she watches him through the golden hazed smoke, wondering where it all went wrong.

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The teak of her glaive is smooth and worn from years of service. Kel smoothes her fingers over the flawless surface while she keeps watch in the dark. Around her the woods are alive with small creatures gathering food and trading gossip. It's lonely at night when the stars are hidden by the trees and her comrades are snoring by their fires, and she wishes she could talk to the animals like Daine.

A branch snaps behind her, and she spins with her weapon raised.

"It's me, Kel."

Suddenly the woods around her don't matter; all she can hear is the thundering of her heart in her chest and the rushing of her blood in her veins. "You should be sleeping," she says.

She can't him very well in the dark, but the shape of his body looks uncomfortable.

"I couldn't sleep."

He's lying, she thinks, but she doesn't say anything.

"How've you been?" he asks in her silence.

She shrugs even though he probably can't see the movement in the dark. "Fine."

He's nervous now, shuffling his weight from foot to foot and raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck. "You're sure?"

She's not really sure she's fine, but she's not entirely sure why he's asking either. "What do you want me to say, Dom?" she asked tiredly. "That I spend all my time in the saddle pining away for you?"

"No."

She thinks her heart might have stopped, but she hasn't died so it's probably not possible. "You really should to be asleep," she says finally. "You have first watch, and you need your rest."

He ignores her comment. "I wanted to apologise, Kel."

She didn't think it was possible, but his words make her feel even worse inside. "You don't have to," she says stiffly.

"I used you, Kel, and you deserve better than that."

"You're right," she turns her back to him and stares out at the dark forest again. "I do deserve better."

"Kel." His hand alights on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off.

"Go to bed, Dom."

"For Mithros' sake, Kel, can't I even talk to you?" he demands loudly as he grabs hold of her arm.

The woods still for a second in surprise, and Kel turns to him angrily. "Do you want everyone to know?" she hisses.

She realises too late that he's too close. When he kisses her, her fingers tighten against the glaive and she sways on her feet. His hand on her arm steadies her gently as his lips brush against hers so lightly it tastes like a whisper.

"What are you doing?" she breathes, not moving away.

"Talking to you," he murmurs, kissing her again.

She should push him away; this is wrong and she's already so churned up inside this will only make things worse. But his lips are warm and soft against hers, like butter and honey, and she opens her mouth to taste more of him.

It changes abruptly from sweet warmth to a dark heat and she presses herself closer against him as fingers tangle in her hair and his tongue strokes her own. She feels like she's made of fire and ice, and hot apple cinnamon invades her soul.

"Everything under control out here?" a voice calls from the camp fire.

They break apart roughly; their breath rasping in their throats.

"Kel?" Merric calls again.

"All's well, Merric, it was just an owl," she calls back.

If her voice sounds strangled and her breathing is too loud, Merric doesn't say anything.

"It's my watch soon anyway, Kel, you might as well go to bed."

She doesn't want to go to bed; her heart is still drumming loudly in her chest and her lungs draw the cool night air in like a pair of giant bellows. Dom has disappeared, she realises, looking around, but the dark night blinds her and she can't see where he's gone.

"It's okay, Merric, I'll stay a bit longer. Go back to bed, I'll wake you in a while," Kel calls back softly.

Merric, silhouetted by the fire, raises his hand in acknowledgement and disappears back into the darkness surrounding his tent.

Kel fingers her glaive and stares at the forest, seeing nothing by darkness. She licks her lips; she can still taste a whisper of cinnamon.

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As usual, reviews and comments are very much appreciated - constructive criticism is especially adored!