Post by Rosie on Jul 7, 2020 23:08:53 GMT 10
Series: Skating By
Title: The Earth Shaker
Rating: PG-13
Event: Spice Up Your Life
Words: 1,661
Summary: Jon rocks Gwynnen's world... and Thom resurrects Roger. Rated for non-explicit sex.
--
Gwynnen had been at court three years when she began to wonder if she would marry.
It wasn't precisely an issue. She was happy enough, and if her father cut her funding like he was threatening, Cythera had offered to let her move into the Elden rooms.
For the moment, however, things were good, mostly. She suspected Gary might be on the verge of proposing to Cythera, and was doing everything in her power to encourage the match. Presently, that left her skulking outside the ballroom, having made a show of departing with Cythera, who had promptly been whisked off by Gary.
"I can't help but feel that you are doing a poor job of chaperoning."
Gwynnen turned, though she already knew who her companion would be. "My charge has retired with a headache," she said archly, daring Jonathan to contradict her.
"Yes, I fear my cousin is quite the headache," he replied with a cocky grin. "Walk with me."
She pursed her lips, disliking his tone. "I fear I may have the beginnings of a headache too. I couldn't possibly risk casting up my accounts all over your royal highness."
Jonathan paused, his arm already held out to her, and then he burst out laughing. "I would deserve nothing less. Let me start again - you may be just the tonic I need. Would you do me the honour of letting me show you the gardens?
Gwynnen didn't point out that she was better acquainted with the gardens than he of late - by day, of course. Heart hammering in her chest, for she also knew his moves, she took his arm. "That's better," she murmured, with a calmness she didn't feel, as he began to lead them into the gardens. "I knew your manners were in there somewhere."
"Forgive me, I had a very trying evening."
She couldn't see his face, but there was a terse note in his voice. She supposed it must be peculiar, seeing his former love courting the mirror image of his other former lover. "I don't think he's interested in her - Lord Thom. I don't think he's interested in anyone."
He stopped, and Gwynnen wondered if she'd displeased him, before she realised he was fumbling with his pouch. "I think Delia's trying to goad me," he answered flatly. "It's a waste of her time." His fingers lit up in blue flames, and Gwynnen recognised the walled garden favoured by his mother. Jonathan swept a creep of vines aside, and smiled at her. "See, you thought I'd have nothing to interest you this evening." He unlocked the door, and held it open for her. "No princesses, no grumpy mages, no sweethearts to enable."
"Just a grumpy crown prince," she answered, but the garden did a thorough job of distracting her. Crystals planted in the walls gave a dim source of light, and as her eyes adjusted, she could make out a wilderness that seemed at odds with Queen Lianne's public gardens.
"No one comes here now," Jonathan said softly, lacing his fingers through hers, "but I remember this being such a haven when I was younger."
This was almost too much - Gwynnen inhaled and reminded herself that men did not bring the girls they were going to marry to secret places. At least Gary was publicly courting Cythera; Jonathan did not pay Gwynnen any particular attention when other people were around. "I am sure Princess Josiane will love it."
He huffed out a laugh, and he was now so close to her that she could feel his breath against her skin. "A haven, Gwynnen, is a place of safety or refuge. It is not where the prey brings its predator."
The fact that Jonathan could ever describe himself as prey was almost enough to make Gwynnen laugh. She knew that he would wait for her cues now, that she could leave this garden untouched, and he would escort her back up to the house.
She turned her head, and kissed him.
He was more practised at this now, less hurried than their kiss on the bench three years ago, and she let herself enjoy it. She had learned a thing or two herself from the Tyran delegation, and was pleased to note it clearly agreed with Jonathan.
Jonathan broke away, and looked down at her, his breathing unsteady. "Gwynnen, you are-"
She found she couldn't listen to it, didn't want her foolish ears to hear something that might be too agreeable to her foolish heart. "Exhausted," she said brightly. "Perhaps we could sit a while?"
There was a swing seat, large enough for two, though it was a snug fit. Jonathan's thigh was pressed against hers, and Gwynnen worried that the sound of her heart was audible in the silence of the evening.
"You are the loveliest thing," he said, sounding so earnest that she almost couldn't bear it. "Gwynnen, will you look at me?"
When she did, he took her hand in his, and began tugging off her glove. "You are always so ready with a quip; it is quite disconcerting for you to be silent," he confessed, placing a kiss on her bare palm. "Have you nothing to say?"
"People will be begging you for the secret," Gwynnen managed, watching as he pursued the same course with her other glove.
"I think I'll keep this one to myself," Jonathan answered, planting a kiss at the corner of her mouth, and trailing down to her ear. "Do you-?" He paused abruptly, and his questing fingers had found her precautionary charm.
Gwynnen felt all the heat rise to her face. "I haven't," she said haltingly. Her mother had always taught her it was best to be prepared, and so she'd tucked the little charm away, just in case.
He pulled back from her. "I thought-" He brushed a hand over his face. "I thought you and Sacherell…"
If she'd thought she was hot before, her cheeks were positively incandescent now. She loved Sacherell very dearly as a friend, though she had her own suspicions about why the two of them had never found themselves in the palace gardens late at night. "No."
Jonathan's fingers had found their way back to the charm. "I believe a woman's body belongs to herself and the Goddess," he said quietly, and everything beneath his touch was aflame. "But I know that not everyone has my views. I - I can't offer you anything, Gwynnen."
"I know." She placed her hand over his. "It would upset your mother, and Princess Josiane would claw my eyes out."
He half-smiled. "That's my girl; I was wondering where your own claws had gone." He leaned back, letting the swing rock to and fro. "All right. I shouldn't have presumed. I will… leave you to consider things, and you can let me know what you have decided when you are ready."
Gwynnen nodded, though she was almost certain she would make the same decision in the cold light of day. She had been raised with the same beliefs as Jonathan, and a husband who didn't feel the same way was not appealing to her. "Thank you. I do wish you'd mounted a more persuasive argument, though. I can barely remember what it is I'm supposed to consider."
"Well," Jonathan murmured, his hand stealing up to tangle in her hair, "I can't very well have that."
--
They fell into a pattern after that; Gwynnen would retire early and Jonathan would sneak away when he was able. She didn't mind knowing nothing would come of it; she intended to treasure the memories of the Crown Prince, tousle-haired, warm-eyed, with sleepy smiles.
Cythera was concerned with Gwynnen's disappearances, but Jonathan had assured Gwynnen that his cousin's intentions towards her friend were good. Gary wanted to make something of himself first, wanted to be somebody worth marrying, and Gwynnen approved of that, as much as she hoped it wouldn't take him too long. Gwynnen therefore had little compunction about pushing her friend to her readily-available distraction.
Through October, his mother caught another chill, and he was by her side more often than not. When he came to Gwynnen, he was weighed down by his worries, and she tried to ease them as best she could.
"You look tired," she said, brushing her hair through his hair.
Jonathan cracked an eye open. "Services all day will do that to a man." He had, truthfully, worn himself out trying to stand in for both parents on All Hallow's Eve - she dreaded to think what Midwinter would bring. "Are you trying to tell me you weren't satisfied?"
Gwynnen shrugged, his playful tone relieving her. "Well, it's understandable, if your mind was elsewhere," she demurred, toying with her pregnancy charm. It felt hot to the touch; perhaps she hadn't noticed him lying on it.
She'd riled him as intended; he made short work of her nightgown, and he was so thorough in his attentions that at first she didn't realise that the earth was shaking until he'd frozen on top of her. "Jon?"
"I - I don't know," he gritted out, rolling off her. "That didn't feel - Mithros, I'm going to kill Trebond. Are you all right?"
She nodded, hand on her charm. She must have been hotter than she realised; the metal was cool now against her skin, leaching some of her warmth. "How do you know it was him?"
"Feels like someone tried to suck my Gift out of me - I can't buy that there's anyone else around with that kind of power." Jonathan yawned. "I'll have a word with him in the morning - I wouldn't trust either of us to manage a profitable conversation right now."
For all his claims to temper, he looked placid enough as he reached for her, folding his arms around her tightly. Gwynnen closed her eyes, knowing from experience that he would only stay for as long as it took her to fall asleep.
Title: The Earth Shaker
Rating: PG-13
Event: Spice Up Your Life
Words: 1,661
Summary: Jon rocks Gwynnen's world... and Thom resurrects Roger. Rated for non-explicit sex.
--
Gwynnen had been at court three years when she began to wonder if she would marry.
It wasn't precisely an issue. She was happy enough, and if her father cut her funding like he was threatening, Cythera had offered to let her move into the Elden rooms.
For the moment, however, things were good, mostly. She suspected Gary might be on the verge of proposing to Cythera, and was doing everything in her power to encourage the match. Presently, that left her skulking outside the ballroom, having made a show of departing with Cythera, who had promptly been whisked off by Gary.
"I can't help but feel that you are doing a poor job of chaperoning."
Gwynnen turned, though she already knew who her companion would be. "My charge has retired with a headache," she said archly, daring Jonathan to contradict her.
"Yes, I fear my cousin is quite the headache," he replied with a cocky grin. "Walk with me."
She pursed her lips, disliking his tone. "I fear I may have the beginnings of a headache too. I couldn't possibly risk casting up my accounts all over your royal highness."
Jonathan paused, his arm already held out to her, and then he burst out laughing. "I would deserve nothing less. Let me start again - you may be just the tonic I need. Would you do me the honour of letting me show you the gardens?
Gwynnen didn't point out that she was better acquainted with the gardens than he of late - by day, of course. Heart hammering in her chest, for she also knew his moves, she took his arm. "That's better," she murmured, with a calmness she didn't feel, as he began to lead them into the gardens. "I knew your manners were in there somewhere."
"Forgive me, I had a very trying evening."
She couldn't see his face, but there was a terse note in his voice. She supposed it must be peculiar, seeing his former love courting the mirror image of his other former lover. "I don't think he's interested in her - Lord Thom. I don't think he's interested in anyone."
He stopped, and Gwynnen wondered if she'd displeased him, before she realised he was fumbling with his pouch. "I think Delia's trying to goad me," he answered flatly. "It's a waste of her time." His fingers lit up in blue flames, and Gwynnen recognised the walled garden favoured by his mother. Jonathan swept a creep of vines aside, and smiled at her. "See, you thought I'd have nothing to interest you this evening." He unlocked the door, and held it open for her. "No princesses, no grumpy mages, no sweethearts to enable."
"Just a grumpy crown prince," she answered, but the garden did a thorough job of distracting her. Crystals planted in the walls gave a dim source of light, and as her eyes adjusted, she could make out a wilderness that seemed at odds with Queen Lianne's public gardens.
"No one comes here now," Jonathan said softly, lacing his fingers through hers, "but I remember this being such a haven when I was younger."
This was almost too much - Gwynnen inhaled and reminded herself that men did not bring the girls they were going to marry to secret places. At least Gary was publicly courting Cythera; Jonathan did not pay Gwynnen any particular attention when other people were around. "I am sure Princess Josiane will love it."
He huffed out a laugh, and he was now so close to her that she could feel his breath against her skin. "A haven, Gwynnen, is a place of safety or refuge. It is not where the prey brings its predator."
The fact that Jonathan could ever describe himself as prey was almost enough to make Gwynnen laugh. She knew that he would wait for her cues now, that she could leave this garden untouched, and he would escort her back up to the house.
She turned her head, and kissed him.
He was more practised at this now, less hurried than their kiss on the bench three years ago, and she let herself enjoy it. She had learned a thing or two herself from the Tyran delegation, and was pleased to note it clearly agreed with Jonathan.
Jonathan broke away, and looked down at her, his breathing unsteady. "Gwynnen, you are-"
She found she couldn't listen to it, didn't want her foolish ears to hear something that might be too agreeable to her foolish heart. "Exhausted," she said brightly. "Perhaps we could sit a while?"
There was a swing seat, large enough for two, though it was a snug fit. Jonathan's thigh was pressed against hers, and Gwynnen worried that the sound of her heart was audible in the silence of the evening.
"You are the loveliest thing," he said, sounding so earnest that she almost couldn't bear it. "Gwynnen, will you look at me?"
When she did, he took her hand in his, and began tugging off her glove. "You are always so ready with a quip; it is quite disconcerting for you to be silent," he confessed, placing a kiss on her bare palm. "Have you nothing to say?"
"People will be begging you for the secret," Gwynnen managed, watching as he pursued the same course with her other glove.
"I think I'll keep this one to myself," Jonathan answered, planting a kiss at the corner of her mouth, and trailing down to her ear. "Do you-?" He paused abruptly, and his questing fingers had found her precautionary charm.
Gwynnen felt all the heat rise to her face. "I haven't," she said haltingly. Her mother had always taught her it was best to be prepared, and so she'd tucked the little charm away, just in case.
He pulled back from her. "I thought-" He brushed a hand over his face. "I thought you and Sacherell…"
If she'd thought she was hot before, her cheeks were positively incandescent now. She loved Sacherell very dearly as a friend, though she had her own suspicions about why the two of them had never found themselves in the palace gardens late at night. "No."
Jonathan's fingers had found their way back to the charm. "I believe a woman's body belongs to herself and the Goddess," he said quietly, and everything beneath his touch was aflame. "But I know that not everyone has my views. I - I can't offer you anything, Gwynnen."
"I know." She placed her hand over his. "It would upset your mother, and Princess Josiane would claw my eyes out."
He half-smiled. "That's my girl; I was wondering where your own claws had gone." He leaned back, letting the swing rock to and fro. "All right. I shouldn't have presumed. I will… leave you to consider things, and you can let me know what you have decided when you are ready."
Gwynnen nodded, though she was almost certain she would make the same decision in the cold light of day. She had been raised with the same beliefs as Jonathan, and a husband who didn't feel the same way was not appealing to her. "Thank you. I do wish you'd mounted a more persuasive argument, though. I can barely remember what it is I'm supposed to consider."
"Well," Jonathan murmured, his hand stealing up to tangle in her hair, "I can't very well have that."
--
They fell into a pattern after that; Gwynnen would retire early and Jonathan would sneak away when he was able. She didn't mind knowing nothing would come of it; she intended to treasure the memories of the Crown Prince, tousle-haired, warm-eyed, with sleepy smiles.
Cythera was concerned with Gwynnen's disappearances, but Jonathan had assured Gwynnen that his cousin's intentions towards her friend were good. Gary wanted to make something of himself first, wanted to be somebody worth marrying, and Gwynnen approved of that, as much as she hoped it wouldn't take him too long. Gwynnen therefore had little compunction about pushing her friend to her readily-available distraction.
Through October, his mother caught another chill, and he was by her side more often than not. When he came to Gwynnen, he was weighed down by his worries, and she tried to ease them as best she could.
"You look tired," she said, brushing her hair through his hair.
Jonathan cracked an eye open. "Services all day will do that to a man." He had, truthfully, worn himself out trying to stand in for both parents on All Hallow's Eve - she dreaded to think what Midwinter would bring. "Are you trying to tell me you weren't satisfied?"
Gwynnen shrugged, his playful tone relieving her. "Well, it's understandable, if your mind was elsewhere," she demurred, toying with her pregnancy charm. It felt hot to the touch; perhaps she hadn't noticed him lying on it.
She'd riled him as intended; he made short work of her nightgown, and he was so thorough in his attentions that at first she didn't realise that the earth was shaking until he'd frozen on top of her. "Jon?"
"I - I don't know," he gritted out, rolling off her. "That didn't feel - Mithros, I'm going to kill Trebond. Are you all right?"
She nodded, hand on her charm. She must have been hotter than she realised; the metal was cool now against her skin, leaching some of her warmth. "How do you know it was him?"
"Feels like someone tried to suck my Gift out of me - I can't buy that there's anyone else around with that kind of power." Jonathan yawned. "I'll have a word with him in the morning - I wouldn't trust either of us to manage a profitable conversation right now."
For all his claims to temper, he looked placid enough as he reached for her, folding his arms around her tightly. Gwynnen closed her eyes, knowing from experience that he would only stay for as long as it took her to fall asleep.