Author's Note: Alanna/Raoul fluff, plain and simple. Enjoy! (And review if you so desire) claire of queenscove

Midwinter Kisses

Lady Alanna of Trebond was gliding quietly through the cold hall. Jon, seeing her cross expression and constant sniffling had excused her after serving at the Midwinter banquet. Upon returning to her room, she had tried to sleep off the cold, but that gods-blasted feminine side made her sit up and stare at the trunk containing her "girl gear".

With a sigh, she slipped on a forest green gown that was more lowcut than she would have cared for, her brunette wig, and some face paint. She didn't know why, but she was in the mood tonight to be a lady.

So here she was, in a deserted, drafty hallway just close enough to the ballroom to hear the muffled strains of music. She was twirling around and around, humming along and enjoying herself immensely. There were some days when she wished that she were a naïve court lady who didn't have to know anything about high blocks, fencing stances, war tactics, jousting bruises or evil plots to overthrow the crown. This was one of them.

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A large, handsome man sat in a windowseat, hidden from the rest of the merrymakers while he observed the court. His eyes took everything in, from the lovesick look in Jon's eyes as he watched Delia dance with Roger, to Cythera's lovely hourglass figure and the deathly pale glow of the Queen's face. With a deep sigh, he skulked out a side door, unnoticed. It's not that he didn't enjoy dancing with the beautiful girls of court. He just didn't like having to talk to them. He had yet to meet one who was not vapid, shallow, and completely artificial. He wanted to meet a girl that was comfortable enough in her own skin without a corset and twelve petticoats, someone who understood his life and the things that made him tick.

Oblivious to where his feet were leading him while deep in thought, he was struck by someone. Hand on his sword hilt in a flash, he heard a girl's voice in the darkness apologizing profusely. "My Lord, I'm so sorry I didn't see you. I was just twirling around down here and…" her voice trailed off, embarrassed.

Alanna panicked. She had just danced right into Raoul of Goldenlake, one of her best friends. She had to get out of here before he recognized her. Turning, she picked up her skirts and began sprinting down the hall. Raoul, startled by the reaction of this peculiar lady who was dancing alone in a dark hallway, chased after her. "Wait, my lady, please stop!" he called. She was surprisingly fast, but he had longer legs. Grabbing her by the waist, he spun her around to face him.

Without stopping to think or knowing what had come over him, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly to hers. Her entire body tensed, but the warmth behind the kiss melted her façade, and she leaned in towards him. Then Alanna came to her senses. Pushing him away from her, she slapped his face. "How dare you!" she accused. As she turned to go once again, he reached out to grab her and caught a strand of her long curly brown hair.

This stopped Alanna dead in her tracks. Her hands reached up to touch her cropped red hair as she slowly turned around. The look of horror on Raoul's face was mirrored on hers. "Alan?" he hissed in an unbelieving voice.

"I can explain," she began haltingly.

"Well you'd better," he spluttered. "What are you doing gallivanting around in women's clothes with paint on your face and -"

She began to laugh. "No, Raoul. I'm not Squire Alan. I'm Alanna. It's quite a long story…"

He stared at her thoughtfully, brows knitted together. "Alanna…so you are a girl? Oh thank Mithros. I might have just kissed the prince's squire, but at least you aren't a boy."

A giggle escaped her lips before she could stop herself. What is wrong with me tonight? Dresses, kissing, giggling…I'm acting like a buffle-brained convent girl!

She dared to glance up at Raoul's eyes, which were staring into her own as if for the first time. They were kind eyes, full of intelligence, laughter, and loyalty. She had never noticed this, despite the fact that they had been good friends for years. He saw something different in her startling purple eyes as well. Confusion perhaps? Vulnerability definitely. She looked softer and more delicate, but it wasn't because of the dress and facepaint.

There was also a new emotion now – longing. Alanna felt something strange beginning to grow in the pit of her stomach. She felt uncomfortable, but slightly giddy at the same time. He leant in again, and this time she threw her arms around his neck as she gave herself over to him completely.

The passion of their kiss grew, and Alanna realized that here, in this dark hallway, enveloped in Raoul's embrace, she felt safe for the first time in her life.