Of course he has partaken. But what surprises her is how he makes it clear that it had been in the past. Most curious, for a king. And a conqueror at that, if the songs about him were to be believed.
She's also surprised by the fact that he's chosen not to opt for the wine.
"I have been taught a great deal about partaking," she answers in turn, no shame at all in her voice at having been exposed to such things, "in preparation for this. Father..." She stumbles at that, and for a moment, something dark flashes across her face. She hated having to call Octavian that, after he'd driven her true father to fall on his own sword. "... would not have approved if I'd disgraced myself with a man he did not approve of."
But that isn't all that she has to say. Her freedom might've been limited, as the hostage of a conqueror, but there were things she'd been able to choose for herself, at least. "And I did not want to give myself to a man who only thought of me as a means to an end." She gives Jon a meaningful look, the corners of her lips curling up into a small smile.
He answers her smile with one of his own. "I see why Sansa approved so highly of you." And he had finally learned to listen to Sansa, at least sometimes, because he knows what the consequences of a wrong choice could be.
He thinks, too, of Ygritte, and her teasing about how he really didn't know any of the things he thought he did. How he had known new things at the end of his time with her, and how many things he's learned since then. Including a few hard-earned lessons.
"It's been my experience that being taught about things and actually doing things are often completely different. Depending on the topic under consideration, naturally." This, so far, seems like a topic that she is interested in learning more about.
Her smile grows at the mention of the Queen in the North. She hadn't spent a lot of time with Sansa, but she'd spent enough to say that she liked the woman. "I am glad to have her approval." It's less because she can't screw up this arrangement or else she'll face her guardian's wrath, but more of she's found some hope of a future in Westeros and would rather remain here than get shipped back to Rome.
Then she adds, in a tone that's unmistakably flirty, "And I hope I have yours as well, Your Grace?" This time she purposely uses his title instead of his name, knowing that he'll bother to correct it.
She slips off the window entirely, her motions graceful and fluid despite the hints of her rebellious streak. She's so much shorter than him but she holds herself well regardless, with the confidence of a queen, of a fighter. "Aye, experience truly is the best teacher." She gives him a playful bat of her lashes, which somehow she manages to appear natural; this area, it seems, she has plenty of experience in.
Jon's glad that Selene has Sansa's approval too, because that means Sansa won't bother him about his choice. He has enough to worry about without his sister and his wife fighting over him. Which is why he had asked Sansa for her help in the first place; some trouble could have been avoided if he had just listened to her last time.
Now he knows that she's doing it on purpose, and he has to admit he likes it. He spent his entire life not really having a place in Westeros, and while he has one now, he's still adjusting to it. Along with not having a place, he had sometimes struggled to feel like someone cared about him (except for Ned; he never doubted how Ned felt about him). It sends a thrill down his spine to have that feeling again, the thought that maybe someone can feel that way about him again.
"You can call me by my name." Which she obviously is aware of, since she's done it already. But now it's official that she can do so. "If we're going to move on to the practical lessons, we'll need to go somewhere more private. We can have some wine sent up."
She hadn't been entirely sure he'd play along. Humor her flirting some, maybe, but still keep her at arm's length. They're still strangers, after all, and only here because they've come to a beneficial political arrangement. But then he's proposing what he's proposing, and she has to smile.
"I can't sleep anyway." The words make it sound like it's no big deal, but her tone and body language say otherwise, ready to follow him to wherever his 'somewhere more private' is. She steps closer to him to indicate just that. "And you'll tell me more about yourself, Jon?"
He had surprised himself a little, too, when he said it, since they are still strangers. Nothing is expected of them until after the wedding, which gives them time to know each other better before then. But this is probably one of the last choices he'll ever get to make, and wherever they choose to make the night go, he'll go with it. He likes the idea of it happening because they want it to, not because it's expected of them. There are going to be some changes in the kingdom of Westeros, and it might as well start now.
"I can't guarantee that I will tell you everything." He knows that she has secrets too, and they have both agreed to take the other even without knowing what those secrets are. That might be exactly what he needs. "Your bedchamber or mine?"
"I won't ask for everything, and neither will I tell," she agrees. Even her parents, for as much as they loved each other, had secrets. Everyone has secrets, and she'll respect his silence for as long as he'll respect hers.
But perhaps she'll tell him about the Shard. If he's commanded a dragon and fought against creatures of ice, then a rock that controls air (to a degree) will be something he can handle. Then maybe, just maybeβ
She stops herself before her fantasies of revenge could take root again. She has a new life now, and while it's not the one she'd hoped for, it's better than anything a conquered queen could've achieved on her own.
His question also gives her pause, though only for a moment. She smiles, pleased to have been given a choice. "Mine," she answers with a grin, almost daring him to protest. But she'd started this whole... interaction, didn't she? It seems just about fair.
He doesn't know if his parents had secrets from each other, and never will know, but he does know that they each had a major secret that they were keeping from their families. Ned, too, was keeping a secret, not just from his wife but from his entire family, and in fact all of Westeros. Which may have changed his relationship with certain people, but it didn't prevent him from having them. There's no reason for secrets to hinder their relationship either, especially as there's no chance that these secrets somehow relate to each other.
"Yours, then." He won't protest her decision. He'd asked for a reason. He locates one of the servants and instructs for some wine to be sent to her bedchamber. This part, at least, of his new life he's used to, after growing up in Winterfell and then having a steward at the Wall. "Lead the way then."
Lead the way she does, and her gait is ladylike and regal, the sway of her hips evident despite the layers of her gown. She's hated being compared to her mother in the past β if only because therein lay the assumption that she would, like her mother before her, use her body to conquer kingdoms β but now she welcomes that part of her, the part of her that's a woman grown and soon to be wed.
The only thing that's out of place, really, is the leather satchel she carries with her. But she's not yet ready to part with what she's keeping safe inside it. Perhaps her new husband would fashion her a crown, and she could have the stone set in the center, hiding the Shard in plain sight.
There's a flicker of surprise from the guards on her door when they realize she's coming their way, for they had not seen her leave. And there's the subtlest echoing flicker upon seeing who she's brought with her, partly because their incompetence has made their way to the king, and partly because they were not expecting to see him with her at this time of the night. Didn't royals intended for one another prefer to seek out others they were not to wed, in the nights leading up to their marriage?
Selene ignores their looks, leaving it to Jon if he'd say or do anything about any of it. She simply waltzes through when the doors are opened for her, and waits by the window once more until they are well and truly alone.
She doesn't even try to hide her grin from him, mischief clear in the curves of her lips and in the gleam in her eyes. Aye, she's evaded her guards and she's damn proud of it. "Worry not, Your Grace, for I do not intend to run from you." She could've escaped, if she really wanted to. Made her way down the castle instead of up, and found someone on the docks to smuggle her out of King's Landing. But she's learned a thing or two from her guardian on the game of thrones. "I just needed a little air, that's all."
He had suggested that she lead the way because it is her room that they're heading to, and because that makes it easier for her to change her mind and decline to invite him in. It's important to him that she know she has control over at least some things in her life. But having her lead the way turns out to have another benefit. It means that he gets to watch her walk.
The Jon Snow of years ago, the one who had left Winterfell to join what he thought was a noble cause, would have turned bright red at such thoughts and frantically tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere. But that Jon Snow is gone, literally, bled into the snow of the North and restored to his birthright, and in a few days this woman will be his wife and he may as well allow himself to think those thoughts.
He says nothing at the guards' surprise, but he does make a mental note to speak to their commander about having them reassigned to a job less vital than guarding the soon-o-be queen of Westeros.
"I would love some wine." Once he they both have something to drink, he lets some of his own playfulness out. Why not? Isn't that the best way to get to know each other?
She smiles and fills a goblet with wine, taking a sip of it before nodding approvingly and holding it out to him. If he thinks she was checking the taste, he'd be wrong; she was testing for poison, a move that would've been potentially harmful had the wine actually been tampered with. She tells herself that she's only doing it because it's better for her to fall than to be accused of orchestrating any trouble, but a part of her has also started to believe in him and in the possibility of them being more than married in name.
She pours herself a gobletful before he could comment on it, however, using the matter of his name as distraction. "Not Aegon, like all the kings who've come before you?" She's smirking even as she's asking the question, because she's pretty sure his answer is the same as to why she refuses to be called Cleopatra, like all the queens before her.
He watches her ministrations with the wine without comment. He's been through a war; he knows how dangerous being the king is, even in times of peace. He's still getting used to the idea that someone might want to kill him just because of who his father was or the position that he holds, but it's something he'll have to accept, especially while the Targaryen line on the throne stabilizes again. (An heir would help with that, too, which reminds him of his reason for coming here, which then causes him to blush, a fact that he tries to hide behind his hand as he takes a sip of his wine.)
He leans against the nearest windowsill. "That is what the maesters in their tower in Oldtown will call me, when they write of my exploits in their scrolls." Another idea he's still getting used to. He no longer has the relative anonymity from being a bastard. Even if they never write another word about him, he will still be immortalized in their history. "My friends and family still call me Jon."
Sipping from her goblet, she makes her way to her bedside so she could remove and set down the satchel she's been carrying on her person. It's an unremarkable thing, really, made of worn leather and not large enough to carry a whole lot, but it's important enough for her to keep close. She then settles herself on the edge of the bed, leaning into the bedpost as she listens to his answer.
"Names hold power," she says, thinking back to how her guardian had fashioned a new name for himself to strengthen his position as Emperor, and how her mother and her half-brother had all manner of names that befit their roles as Pharaoh. "Your name as king is a sword, a conqueror's name able to strike fear and fealty in the Realm..." She's clearly been paying attention and studying Westeros' history. "... and your private name is a shield." She's found out quickly enough that Jon was a remarkably common name, which could be an advantage in certain circumstances.
She takes another drink of her wine. It's good wine, and she's not had anything as good in a while. Again, she counts herself lucky to be here. "While you are here, you don't have to be a king." She'd already noticed the weight the crown left on his shoulders, in the same way she'd seen it on Caesarion many years ago. But of course, it is not her place to dictate such matters, so she adds, "If you are so inclined."
She's perceptive, that much is apparent, and observant, as well as quick-thinking. She's only been an official resident of the Red Keep for a short time and she's already figured it out things it takes some years to understand. No wonder Sansa approved of her so highly. It further confirms that he had selected well in his choice of queen.
He's also relieved at her assertion that she doesn't expect certain things from him, at least all the time. It helps knowing that there is a place and time that he can just be Jon, if he chooses; he doesn't have to wait for a member of his family to visit, he can be himself around her. Even when alone in his own bedchamber, he could have to don the mantle of a king at a moment's notice if something comes up requiring his immediate attention. Knowing there's a place where he doesn't have to carry that weight is a relief.
"Then in that case, you should definitely call me Jon."
"And you should definitely call me Selene." Flirting again now, if the smile she doesn't bother to hide behind her glass of wine is any indication. That and she'd rather he not call her, albeit accidentally, with her mother's name. Especially under certain... circumstances.
She draws her legs up to the bed then, leaning into the bedpost like she were reclining on a divan. She looks completely at home and comfortable, which could be surprising if the length of time she's been in King's Landing is taken into consideration. But she did also mean it when she said that when he's with her he doesn't have to be a king, and that he'll be safe to lower his guard and get away from politics for a while.
Whether it's intentional on her part or not, he finds himself watching her as she settles on the bed. Which, he reflects, probably was intentional, given their conversation from earlier and their decision to come here. It strikes him how much she already seems like she belongs here. Probably even more than he does. Perhaps one day he'll be as comfortable here as she is.
"I hope you know that you can be whoever you like when you're here, too." He doesn't expect anything specific from her, at least not in private.
She's still lounging like she has no care in the world, but at his words her expression seems to shift into one more... sad. To add to that, she doesn't respond right away, taking her time to drink some more wine.
When she finishes, her cup's empty, and she lets her hand rest on her thigh. "I only have one request," she begins earnestly, her recent playfulness gone. She almost wants to turn away, embarrassed at the weakness she's about to admit, but if they are to be wed and she is to be his queen, she needs to earn his trust. "Most nights I do not sleep well. Sometimes not at all." She keeps her gaze on him. "Will you hold me, if the terrors come?"
For she still dreams of her father, who'd fallen on his sword in his disgrace. Of the asp she'd smuggled into her mother's chambers and ultimately killed her. Of the gold chains on her wrists and the march of shame she and her twin brother had to endure. Of her little brother wilting away as he's taken by disease. Of the night she'd stolen the Shard from the Temple of the Vestals and led one of the temple maidens to lose her sight. Of Tiberiusβ
She might not have had to face the Dead, but her nights have been dark and full of terrors.
He doesn't know, yet, what events she has faced that would cause her to have terrors at night, but there is plenty of time to have those discussions. Or not. He has agreed to accept her as she is, and that includes her history, too. Whatever that history might be. Perhaps she will share it one day, in exchange for the parts of his own history that she doesn't know yet.
He sets his goblet down on the table and approaches the bed, then leans against one of the posts. He won't come any closer without an invitation.
"If you will do the same for me." He has seen plenty too. The deaths of first Ygritte and then Rickon. Battles. Those who have died at his hand, especially Olly, whose face he will never get out of his head. Olly, the one he tried so hard to reach, but in the end had failed. An army of the dead. His own death. It makes for unquiet sleep of his own.
There's a flicker of surprise in her eyes; not because he has his own terrors, but because he admits to having them. Nearly all the men she's known have stubbornly held on to their pride, even her twin brother who'd been far weaker than she was. Yet here was a king who saw no need for that, who was, in a way, openly showing his vulnerability. And the things she could do with that...
Tonight, however, she's not a scheming once-queen hell-bent on revenge. Rome's downfall can wait. Egypt's restoration can wait. Right now there's something else in the room that she wants to take hold of, something that she hasn't felt in so long: the feeling that she no longer has to be alone.
She reaches back to set her empty goblet down the bedside table, then she slowly slips off the bed and approaches him. She gazes into his eyes for a moment before taking a chance and resting a hand on his chest, over his heart.
"Aye, I shall do the same for you." Her voice is barely above a whisper now, nearly drowned by the suddenly furious beating of her heart. It must be the wine.
How many others might have seen this as weakness, as something that could be exploited for their own gain? Or as something that was outside of what their responsibilities involve. Was this something Sansa had picked up on during their meeting? Or is it just a lucky coincidence?
Instinct tells him to shrink away at her touch, that there are only a few layers of fabric between her hand and the scars on his chest, the one directly over his heart that had finally killed him. But he doesn't. If she hasn't heard the story yet, she will eventually. There's no way to avoid the stories and songs about him, least of all in his own keep, at his own feasts.
And then his heart beats faster at her touch.
"I think you and I are going to get along just fine."
She smiles now, and while there's a hint of playfulness at the corners of her lips, her eyes only shine with genuine delight at his declaration. She hadn't really expected him to like her. Be attracted to her, maybe. Or perhaps be curious enough to want to get to know her. But not to get along. It sounds simple, and yet somehow so... profound.
Not really giving it too much thought, she tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. She's so much shorter than him that she shouldn't be threatening, should she? Not even when she practically closes the gap between them, the motion bringing their bodies closer than ever before.
He would have preferred having more time to find a wife, to have one less thing to adjust to all at the same time, but in the end, he had been convinced that it was more prudent to choose one soon. With that position filled, some of the scheming would hopefully settle down, and the sooner he has an heir, the better, as well. With more time, he could have made sure that he and his wife would be compatible. Instead there had been time only to determine that they could stand to be in each other's presence and that neither of them would regret making this choice in a few months from now.
It seems that he's gotten lucky. They could be on the path to having a marriage like that of Ned and his wife, which had appeared to be a good one.
He doesn't pull away when she kisses him, or when she draws closer to him. Truth be told, he has missed having someone this close to him, and he hopes with his whole being that this time turns out better than his previous attempts.
He doesn't pull away, and it encourages her to keep going. Not overbearingly so like she's someone paid to alleviate his loneliness and feed his desires, but enough to let him know that she's genuinely interested in him. Her arms slowly come up and around his neck as she continues kissing him; slow, savoring, lingering.
Had it been like this with her parents, she wonders? A relationship that started out as entirely political, but later blossomed into something more? She'd never doubted how much her parents loved each other, and even if she didn't understand it back then, she knew now that even in death, they had chosen each other. She felt a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe, she could have something of the same.
"Mmm. And it's a long night." Long enough for two people who have trouble sleeping, anyway. "We have time."
He finds himself relaxing into the kiss more, as he becomes more comfortable in the situation. His arms move up and encircle her waist; his hand presses against her back. It's a firm embrace, but gentle, and loose enough that she can get out of it if she wants to. After what happened between Ramsay and Sansa, he wants to be sure that Selene is certain that she has a choice. She should be comfortable with this, too.
"We do." He doesn't really want to go back to his own chamber. He'd rather stay in hers, where no one would expect to find him yet. A few moments of peace is all he asks. "And no one to expect anything of us." The evening is theirs.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-07-09 05:56 pm (UTC)She's also surprised by the fact that he's chosen not to opt for the wine.
"I have been taught a great deal about partaking," she answers in turn, no shame at all in her voice at having been exposed to such things, "in preparation for this. Father..." She stumbles at that, and for a moment, something dark flashes across her face. She hated having to call Octavian that, after he'd driven her true father to fall on his own sword. "... would not have approved if I'd disgraced myself with a man he did not approve of."
But that isn't all that she has to say. Her freedom might've been limited, as the hostage of a conqueror, but there were things she'd been able to choose for herself, at least. "And I did not want to give myself to a man who only thought of me as a means to an end." She gives Jon a meaningful look, the corners of her lips curling up into a small smile.
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Date: 2022-07-10 04:18 am (UTC)He thinks, too, of Ygritte, and her teasing about how he really didn't know any of the things he thought he did. How he had known new things at the end of his time with her, and how many things he's learned since then. Including a few hard-earned lessons.
"It's been my experience that being taught about things and actually doing things are often completely different. Depending on the topic under consideration, naturally." This, so far, seems like a topic that she is interested in learning more about.
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Date: 2022-07-10 09:09 pm (UTC)Then she adds, in a tone that's unmistakably flirty, "And I hope I have yours as well, Your Grace?" This time she purposely uses his title instead of his name, knowing that he'll bother to correct it.
She slips off the window entirely, her motions graceful and fluid despite the hints of her rebellious streak. She's so much shorter than him but she holds herself well regardless, with the confidence of a queen, of a fighter. "Aye, experience truly is the best teacher." She gives him a playful bat of her lashes, which somehow she manages to appear natural; this area, it seems, she has plenty of experience in.
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Date: 2022-07-11 04:10 am (UTC)Now he knows that she's doing it on purpose, and he has to admit he likes it. He spent his entire life not really having a place in Westeros, and while he has one now, he's still adjusting to it. Along with not having a place, he had sometimes struggled to feel like someone cared about him (except for Ned; he never doubted how Ned felt about him). It sends a thrill down his spine to have that feeling again, the thought that maybe someone can feel that way about him again.
"You can call me by my name." Which she obviously is aware of, since she's done it already. But now it's official that she can do so. "If we're going to move on to the practical lessons, we'll need to go somewhere more private. We can have some wine sent up."
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Date: 2022-07-11 08:20 pm (UTC)"I can't sleep anyway." The words make it sound like it's no big deal, but her tone and body language say otherwise, ready to follow him to wherever his 'somewhere more private' is. She steps closer to him to indicate just that. "And you'll tell me more about yourself, Jon?"
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Date: 2022-07-12 04:03 am (UTC)"I can't guarantee that I will tell you everything." He knows that she has secrets too, and they have both agreed to take the other even without knowing what those secrets are. That might be exactly what he needs. "Your bedchamber or mine?"
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Date: 2022-07-14 09:44 am (UTC)But perhaps she'll tell him about the Shard. If he's commanded a dragon and fought against creatures of ice, then a rock that controls air (to a degree) will be something he can handle. Then maybe, just maybeβ
She stops herself before her fantasies of revenge could take root again. She has a new life now, and while it's not the one she'd hoped for, it's better than anything a conquered queen could've achieved on her own.
His question also gives her pause, though only for a moment. She smiles, pleased to have been given a choice. "Mine," she answers with a grin, almost daring him to protest. But she'd started this whole... interaction, didn't she? It seems just about fair.
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Date: 2022-07-15 04:13 am (UTC)"Yours, then." He won't protest her decision. He'd asked for a reason. He locates one of the servants and instructs for some wine to be sent to her bedchamber. This part, at least, of his new life he's used to, after growing up in Winterfell and then having a steward at the Wall. "Lead the way then."
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Date: 2022-07-21 09:37 pm (UTC)The only thing that's out of place, really, is the leather satchel she carries with her. But she's not yet ready to part with what she's keeping safe inside it. Perhaps her new husband would fashion her a crown, and she could have the stone set in the center, hiding the Shard in plain sight.
There's a flicker of surprise from the guards on her door when they realize she's coming their way, for they had not seen her leave. And there's the subtlest echoing flicker upon seeing who she's brought with her, partly because their incompetence has made their way to the king, and partly because they were not expecting to see him with her at this time of the night. Didn't royals intended for one another prefer to seek out others they were not to wed, in the nights leading up to their marriage?
Selene ignores their looks, leaving it to Jon if he'd say or do anything about any of it. She simply waltzes through when the doors are opened for her, and waits by the window once more until they are well and truly alone.
She doesn't even try to hide her grin from him, mischief clear in the curves of her lips and in the gleam in her eyes. Aye, she's evaded her guards and she's damn proud of it. "Worry not, Your Grace, for I do not intend to run from you." She could've escaped, if she really wanted to. Made her way down the castle instead of up, and found someone on the docks to smuggle her out of King's Landing. But she's learned a thing or two from her guardian on the game of thrones. "I just needed a little air, that's all."
She glances at their provisions. "Wine?"
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Date: 2022-07-22 03:29 am (UTC)The Jon Snow of years ago, the one who had left Winterfell to join what he thought was a noble cause, would have turned bright red at such thoughts and frantically tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere. But that Jon Snow is gone, literally, bled into the snow of the North and restored to his birthright, and in a few days this woman will be his wife and he may as well allow himself to think those thoughts.
He says nothing at the guards' surprise, but he does make a mental note to speak to their commander about having them reassigned to a job less vital than guarding the soon-o-be queen of Westeros.
"I would love some wine." Once he they both have something to drink, he lets some of his own playfulness out. Why not? Isn't that the best way to get to know each other?
"I thought I told you you could call me Jon."
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Date: 2022-08-27 01:26 pm (UTC)She pours herself a gobletful before he could comment on it, however, using the matter of his name as distraction. "Not Aegon, like all the kings who've come before you?" She's smirking even as she's asking the question, because she's pretty sure his answer is the same as to why she refuses to be called Cleopatra, like all the queens before her.
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Date: 2022-08-27 09:26 pm (UTC)He leans against the nearest windowsill. "That is what the maesters in their tower in Oldtown will call me, when they write of my exploits in their scrolls." Another idea he's still getting used to. He no longer has the relative anonymity from being a bastard. Even if they never write another word about him, he will still be immortalized in their history. "My friends and family still call me Jon."
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Date: 2022-08-28 12:56 pm (UTC)"Names hold power," she says, thinking back to how her guardian had fashioned a new name for himself to strengthen his position as Emperor, and how her mother and her half-brother had all manner of names that befit their roles as Pharaoh. "Your name as king is a sword, a conqueror's name able to strike fear and fealty in the Realm..." She's clearly been paying attention and studying Westeros' history. "... and your private name is a shield." She's found out quickly enough that Jon was a remarkably common name, which could be an advantage in certain circumstances.
She takes another drink of her wine. It's good wine, and she's not had anything as good in a while. Again, she counts herself lucky to be here. "While you are here, you don't have to be a king." She'd already noticed the weight the crown left on his shoulders, in the same way she'd seen it on Caesarion many years ago. But of course, it is not her place to dictate such matters, so she adds, "If you are so inclined."
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Date: 2022-08-28 02:46 pm (UTC)He's also relieved at her assertion that she doesn't expect certain things from him, at least all the time. It helps knowing that there is a place and time that he can just be Jon, if he chooses; he doesn't have to wait for a member of his family to visit, he can be himself around her. Even when alone in his own bedchamber, he could have to don the mantle of a king at a moment's notice if something comes up requiring his immediate attention. Knowing there's a place where he doesn't have to carry that weight is a relief.
"Then in that case, you should definitely call me Jon."
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Date: 2022-08-28 03:28 pm (UTC)She draws her legs up to the bed then, leaning into the bedpost like she were reclining on a divan. She looks completely at home and comfortable, which could be surprising if the length of time she's been in King's Landing is taken into consideration. But she did also mean it when she said that when he's with her he doesn't have to be a king, and that he'll be safe to lower his guard and get away from politics for a while.
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Date: 2022-08-28 04:06 pm (UTC)"I hope you know that you can be whoever you like when you're here, too." He doesn't expect anything specific from her, at least not in private.
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Date: 2022-08-28 09:26 pm (UTC)When she finishes, her cup's empty, and she lets her hand rest on her thigh. "I only have one request," she begins earnestly, her recent playfulness gone. She almost wants to turn away, embarrassed at the weakness she's about to admit, but if they are to be wed and she is to be his queen, she needs to earn his trust. "Most nights I do not sleep well. Sometimes not at all." She keeps her gaze on him. "Will you hold me, if the terrors come?"
For she still dreams of her father, who'd fallen on his sword in his disgrace. Of the asp she'd smuggled into her mother's chambers and ultimately killed her. Of the gold chains on her wrists and the march of shame she and her twin brother had to endure. Of her little brother wilting away as he's taken by disease. Of the night she'd stolen the Shard from the Temple of the Vestals and led one of the temple maidens to lose her sight. Of Tiberiusβ
She might not have had to face the Dead, but her nights have been dark and full of terrors.
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Date: 2022-08-29 04:26 am (UTC)He sets his goblet down on the table and approaches the bed, then leans against one of the posts. He won't come any closer without an invitation.
"If you will do the same for me." He has seen plenty too. The deaths of first Ygritte and then Rickon. Battles. Those who have died at his hand, especially Olly, whose face he will never get out of his head. Olly, the one he tried so hard to reach, but in the end had failed. An army of the dead. His own death. It makes for unquiet sleep of his own.
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Date: 2022-08-30 05:08 pm (UTC)Tonight, however, she's not a scheming once-queen hell-bent on revenge. Rome's downfall can wait. Egypt's restoration can wait. Right now there's something else in the room that she wants to take hold of, something that she hasn't felt in so long: the feeling that she no longer has to be alone.
She reaches back to set her empty goblet down the bedside table, then she slowly slips off the bed and approaches him. She gazes into his eyes for a moment before taking a chance and resting a hand on his chest, over his heart.
"Aye, I shall do the same for you." Her voice is barely above a whisper now, nearly drowned by the suddenly furious beating of her heart. It must be the wine.
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Date: 2022-08-31 02:47 am (UTC)Instinct tells him to shrink away at her touch, that there are only a few layers of fabric between her hand and the scars on his chest, the one directly over his heart that had finally killed him. But he doesn't. If she hasn't heard the story yet, she will eventually. There's no way to avoid the stories and songs about him, least of all in his own keep, at his own feasts.
And then his heart beats faster at her touch.
"I think you and I are going to get along just fine."
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Date: 2022-08-31 09:16 pm (UTC)Not really giving it too much thought, she tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. She's so much shorter than him that she shouldn't be threatening, should she? Not even when she practically closes the gap between them, the motion bringing their bodies closer than ever before.
"More than I fine, I think."
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Date: 2022-09-01 02:28 am (UTC)It seems that he's gotten lucky. They could be on the path to having a marriage like that of Ned and his wife, which had appeared to be a good one.
He doesn't pull away when she kisses him, or when she draws closer to him. Truth be told, he has missed having someone this close to him, and he hopes with his whole being that this time turns out better than his previous attempts.
"We're off to a good start."
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Date: 2022-09-09 03:38 pm (UTC)Had it been like this with her parents, she wonders? A relationship that started out as entirely political, but later blossomed into something more? She'd never doubted how much her parents loved each other, and even if she didn't understand it back then, she knew now that even in death, they had chosen each other. She felt a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe, she could have something of the same.
"Mmm. And it's a long night." Long enough for two people who have trouble sleeping, anyway. "We have time."
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Date: 2022-09-11 03:59 am (UTC)"We do." He doesn't really want to go back to his own chamber. He'd rather stay in hers, where no one would expect to find him yet. A few moments of peace is all he asks. "And no one to expect anything of us." The evening is theirs.