Post by Cass on Apr 14, 2013 8:25:00 GMT 10
Title: Accidentals
Rating: PG
Word Count: 518
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: The right king, but the wrong queen. (Warning for mentions of character death).
:::
“Marry me,” Jon says. His hands lay over hers, dry and rough and calloused; they’re not the hands of a king, but soon they will be. “You—you need to, you have to, Alanna— there’s no one else.“
“I’m, I love George,” she says. “I want to be with him, he’s the one who I’m supposed to—“
“I would have wanted that, for you,” Jon says. He’s slumped against the table, his spine arched forward in a depressed curve. There are papers strewn across the table. Alanna recognizes Gary’s careful handwriting, scrawled across pages of emergency orders and details of requests for food, shelter, mages and healing. “If he’d survived—I wouldn’t be asking you this. I’d bless your union, you know that. Did I tell you, I was thinking of giving him a barony for services to the realm, so we could recognize all he did for us? You two would have been happy, and, as for me, it would have been Thayet.”
“It should have been Thayet,” Alanna says. She knows that she should say sire, he’s king now, bloody crown and all, but his name slips out past her lips. “Jon, I can’t be Queen. You know I’d be terrible at it.”
He squeezes her hands. They’re so much larger than hers. They weren’t always, not when they were pages—she was little but he wasn’t all that much bigger. “I don’t know who else to ask,” he says, and it’s as good as an admission of defeat.
“Any noble girl,” Alanna says. “Any of them, conservative family or not—they’d be proud to bear your babies. Or if you need an alliance, the other Copper Isles princess. Maybe she isn’t insane like Josiane was. Mithros, Jon, the realm would take a Yamani girl over me.”
“They wouldn’t,” Jon says. “Lady knight or not, you’re—you killed Roger twice, you’re the savior of the realm. You’re the reason I’m still here, don’t you understand that? Commoners on the street look up to you. I know you’ve heard the tales of girls playing Lioness and the Duke. You’ll bring the Bazhir with you, moreso than just me on my own, and your blood is bluer than mine.”
“My brother is a traitor,” she says, one last string to grasp at. “He brought Roger back through horrible means, he stole mage, he—“
“He’s dead too,” Jon says bluntly. There’s less pain than there could have been; too many have died and she thinks, secretly, that she might only have so much to go around. “They’ll forgot, the people. We need to heal.” He pauses. “You don’t have to love me again the way that you used to. I promise that I’m not asking for that.”
It’s that which gets her in the end, because while they might have loved each other once—and it wasn’t long ago, not hardly, that she would have done anything for his heart—this, Tortall, the realm, all that is more important now.
“Fine,” Alanna says. “Yes. I will. I accept your proposal.”
He doesn’t kiss her, not at all.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 518
Pairing: Alanna/Jonathan
Round/Fight: 1/A
Summary: The right king, but the wrong queen. (Warning for mentions of character death).
:::
“Marry me,” Jon says. His hands lay over hers, dry and rough and calloused; they’re not the hands of a king, but soon they will be. “You—you need to, you have to, Alanna— there’s no one else.“
“I’m, I love George,” she says. “I want to be with him, he’s the one who I’m supposed to—“
“I would have wanted that, for you,” Jon says. He’s slumped against the table, his spine arched forward in a depressed curve. There are papers strewn across the table. Alanna recognizes Gary’s careful handwriting, scrawled across pages of emergency orders and details of requests for food, shelter, mages and healing. “If he’d survived—I wouldn’t be asking you this. I’d bless your union, you know that. Did I tell you, I was thinking of giving him a barony for services to the realm, so we could recognize all he did for us? You two would have been happy, and, as for me, it would have been Thayet.”
“It should have been Thayet,” Alanna says. She knows that she should say sire, he’s king now, bloody crown and all, but his name slips out past her lips. “Jon, I can’t be Queen. You know I’d be terrible at it.”
He squeezes her hands. They’re so much larger than hers. They weren’t always, not when they were pages—she was little but he wasn’t all that much bigger. “I don’t know who else to ask,” he says, and it’s as good as an admission of defeat.
“Any noble girl,” Alanna says. “Any of them, conservative family or not—they’d be proud to bear your babies. Or if you need an alliance, the other Copper Isles princess. Maybe she isn’t insane like Josiane was. Mithros, Jon, the realm would take a Yamani girl over me.”
“They wouldn’t,” Jon says. “Lady knight or not, you’re—you killed Roger twice, you’re the savior of the realm. You’re the reason I’m still here, don’t you understand that? Commoners on the street look up to you. I know you’ve heard the tales of girls playing Lioness and the Duke. You’ll bring the Bazhir with you, moreso than just me on my own, and your blood is bluer than mine.”
“My brother is a traitor,” she says, one last string to grasp at. “He brought Roger back through horrible means, he stole mage, he—“
“He’s dead too,” Jon says bluntly. There’s less pain than there could have been; too many have died and she thinks, secretly, that she might only have so much to go around. “They’ll forgot, the people. We need to heal.” He pauses. “You don’t have to love me again the way that you used to. I promise that I’m not asking for that.”
It’s that which gets her in the end, because while they might have loved each other once—and it wasn’t long ago, not hardly, that she would have done anything for his heart—this, Tortall, the realm, all that is more important now.
“Fine,” Alanna says. “Yes. I will. I accept your proposal.”
He doesn’t kiss her, not at all.