Title: Midwinter Loss
Goldenlake Midwinter Advent Prompt: #9, Trees
Notes: Thanks to seori, as ever, for being wonderful.

Maura wrapped her shawl around her shoulders tightly as she left the castle. Torchlight flickered across the lawn, casting ominous shadows over the snow. She ignored it, though – there was nothing at Dunlath that could frighten her, after all. It was the figure in the orchard that made her quiver with a combination of excitement and dread. She knew of only one man who would stand under the trees, waiting for her to come to him. She hurried over, trying to ignore the frigid bite of the mountain air.

"Why don't you come inside?" she asked, stopping in front of him.

"You know why," he replied angrily. His expression – usually so playful and kind – was surly. She didn't like the hardness in his hazel eyes. "Is it true that you're betrothed?

"You came from Corus to ask me this?"

"I was at the Swoop."

She blinked at him. "You rode across the entire nation to ask me to confirm the announcement?" She shook her head. "Alan, you don't understand."

"You're right – I don't!" His eyes flashed dangerously. "That's why I'm asking you to explain."

She leaned against the tree trunk, sighing. This place was full of too many memories – too much joy. Thinking of lazy autumn days from years gone by was difficult when she could see pain etched on his face. "Everything's different now," she said lamely.

"He's an old man."

"Compared to you, maybe. He's only seven years older than me."

"He doesn't love you."

"Yes he does."

"He doesn't love you the way I do."

She looked up at him, tears stinging her eyes. "No one could."

"You could marry me instead," Alan urged, tugging at the arms she crossed over her chest. "My blood's as blue as any other noble, even if Da was a commoner. No one would question the match."

Maura shook her head. "It's not as simple as that. This match has the king's blessing. There are trade agreements to consider."

Alan backed away, releasing her freezing hands. She folded her arms over her chest again, trying to preserve as much warmth as possible.

"Trade agreements," he repeated, his expression sad. "You would forego something as wondrous as love in the name of trade."

"In the name of Dunlath," she whispered.

"You won't let anything change your mind?" he asked. "Not even me."

"Not even you."

He nodded once. "I'll be at the inn, should you change your mind. I'll be leaving in the morning, though."

"Travel safely," Maura murmured. She knew as well as he did that she would not budge once her mind was made up.

"I love you, Maura of Dunlath." He kissed her swiftly, his lips even colder than her own. He pressed her against the hard bark of the tree, the way he had years before when they had laughed and reveled in each other's kisses. When they had not realized that every warm autumn day is lost to the freezing cold of winter. His gloved hands framed her face, and as he pulled away, he brushed his cold nose playfully against hers. His eyes did not smile, though, like they had over the last five years.

"And I love you." The words were lost in the gust of wind that blew through the orchard.

- the end