Jon didn't need a glimpse of she had once been. The past had faded away now, like letter on yellowing parchment, and more importantly, she was the personification of temptation and desire, a goddess given to him and only him. The fact that she was gorgeous -- that she had a figure that was more than shapely, ample breasts that diverted his attention at a glance, and a perfect backside that made him want to push her on to all fours and take her like a beast, stone floor or no -- was ancillary to the fact that his soul burned for her, like a furnace that had been stoked past all sense. He desired her, not in spite of the scars that spread down her back and legs, but because of them; indeed, had her hair been out of the way, the visceral reminder of all she had gone through, of what they shared that went deeper than words, might very well have pushed him over that thin border between lust and thought. As it was, he managed to delay that fate for the moment.
Truthfully, even the lords chambers weren't much more opulent than what she had been given. The sparsity of such richness always serves as a reminder that winter truly is coming. The North has never had much, nor much need for, gold. Silver, yes, for silver doesn't tarnish and is common in the lands around White Harbor, but as any merchant or minter will say, silver is of far less value than gold. In the end, Jon's furs are a little more choice than the ones on her floors and bed, the paintings are a little finer, and the woodwork of the furniture is more ornate, but the rooms remain furnished in much the same style without any great disparity in the guest chambers. Besides, no matter what anyone else had claimed, Jon had ordered her treated as a guest rather than a hostage and the furthest any had dared to push him was to suggest that guards be posted. Davos had lent that particular argument his voice, which surprised him, but it had been he who had pointed out that Margaery might need protection should King's Landing find out her fate. He'd quickly assigned the guards then.
Looking back, as much as he wished that there was more he could have done to help her feel less trapped, it's doubtful that anything would have made a lick of difference. The crown he wears is heavy and it's more a burden than a blessing; his kingdom is assembled from the fragments left behind by Robb and his war, more tentative alliance than a group of men bound by common caused. With all the bickering, his visits to Margaery had been, without a doubt, a bright spot. Her very presence had seemed to give him the strength to carry on. Now, it gives him so much more than that. "More than fair, I'd say." A wild grin still lingered on his face, made wider by the intensity of her gaze as she nudged him; Jon obliged, rolling half on to his back and spreading his legs, one flat on the bed, the other with it's toes digging into the fur, providing her with a better view of his hand working his cock. Her gaze was almost tangible, the focus of it enhancing his pleasure, the pace of stroking increasing just so as his breath quickened. "So you say. Especially with you intent on making me come as quick as possible. We must find games so we can savor the fucking, Margaery. It would not do for it to end so quickly. I have a few ideas of my own." His eyes, normally dark, seemed to be endless pools, just like the dark, steaming water in the groves of the godswood, as he licked his lips and watched her with an intensity that matched her own.
"They do. I don't deny that. Davos is capable of seeing to their needs. He's sat in judgment before when I was occupied." Something strained in him at the tease, teeth biting down on his lower lip as he watched the gentle sway of hips and ass, tempted once more to give in to desire. For a moment, his eyes rolled back, a vivid image forming in his mind, and his breathing quickened as a flush spread across his skin. "Not quite yet. Besides, I've often been told I'm too solemn. They want me to enjoy myself. Are you suggesting I shouldn't do that? Because I'm very much so enjoying myself now. More than I have in a very long time." Truthfully, his advisers would hold their tongues about this indiscretion once it became common knowledge. Nobody necessarily wanted this, but some would see it as a way to keep him distracted and others would try to use it as a way to gain more power, but none would protest... save perhaps Sansa. "If that's the worry, shall I invite the guards in and let them know to carry word that the screams are most certainly not of pain or torture? Or perhaps I'll provide them word to send to my councilors once my cock is taken care of."
Although he jested, once they'd sated themselves enough, he would take time to send word to Davos that he was well, but preoccupied. Anyone with enough sense would understand the meaning of that message. "I do favor striking sooner rather than later," he nodded slightly, "The issue lies with the weather. Marching once the storms have abates is well and good, but the going will still be slow and made slower by need to carry all our food with us. It's impossible to know when more snow will come as well. Either way, we'll risk much." That said, Jon was still in favor of striking sooner rather than waiting. Once spring came, the men would think of planting crops and raising families. War would be unpleasant reality that most would not desire facing. "You make fair points. I had not considered Dorne before, but the rest... I think we'd be fools not to take an opportunity like this if one presents itself." If Jon minded the more practical talk, which he didn't, his arousal didn't seem to care; his blood still sang as they chatted about the Freys and war.
"They still have the Baratheon lands as well, but with the Riverlands taken, any levies from the Westerlands would have to take Riverrun first. My brother once held the Kingslayer as prisoner. If we could manage to do so once more..." That might prove the key to ending Cersei's rule. None of her children had survived, but her brother, the man Stannis had claimed fathered those very same children, still lived. Defeating Jaime might very well me the end, whether she willed it or not. The vassals of House Tyrell might be forced to fight for her, but without a competent military commander loyal to the crown, any remnants might very well collapse under the strain. "I shall argue for it next time we meet." After a long moment of consideration, he'd reached a decision. "It might well be worth the risk. Once we move south, we'll likely be stuck there until spring comes." He glanced at her, a look of consideration passing over his face, hand cupping the side of her face. "If we do, you will come with me. I wouldn't be parted from you so soon. Or ever, if I can help it."
He smiled at her then and pressed more kisses, just as sweet, just as soft, to her mouth. "I love you dearly. Wherever I go, you go. That's that."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-12-31 03:21 am (UTC)Truthfully, even the lords chambers weren't much more opulent than what she had been given. The sparsity of such richness always serves as a reminder that winter truly is coming. The North has never had much, nor much need for, gold. Silver, yes, for silver doesn't tarnish and is common in the lands around White Harbor, but as any merchant or minter will say, silver is of far less value than gold. In the end, Jon's furs are a little more choice than the ones on her floors and bed, the paintings are a little finer, and the woodwork of the furniture is more ornate, but the rooms remain furnished in much the same style without any great disparity in the guest chambers. Besides, no matter what anyone else had claimed, Jon had ordered her treated as a guest rather than a hostage and the furthest any had dared to push him was to suggest that guards be posted. Davos had lent that particular argument his voice, which surprised him, but it had been he who had pointed out that Margaery might need protection should King's Landing find out her fate. He'd quickly assigned the guards then.
Looking back, as much as he wished that there was more he could have done to help her feel less trapped, it's doubtful that anything would have made a lick of difference. The crown he wears is heavy and it's more a burden than a blessing; his kingdom is assembled from the fragments left behind by Robb and his war, more tentative alliance than a group of men bound by common caused. With all the bickering, his visits to Margaery had been, without a doubt, a bright spot. Her very presence had seemed to give him the strength to carry on. Now, it gives him so much more than that. "More than fair, I'd say." A wild grin still lingered on his face, made wider by the intensity of her gaze as she nudged him; Jon obliged, rolling half on to his back and spreading his legs, one flat on the bed, the other with it's toes digging into the fur, providing her with a better view of his hand working his cock. Her gaze was almost tangible, the focus of it enhancing his pleasure, the pace of stroking increasing just so as his breath quickened. "So you say. Especially with you intent on making me come as quick as possible. We must find games so we can savor the fucking, Margaery. It would not do for it to end so quickly. I have a few ideas of my own." His eyes, normally dark, seemed to be endless pools, just like the dark, steaming water in the groves of the godswood, as he licked his lips and watched her with an intensity that matched her own.
"They do. I don't deny that. Davos is capable of seeing to their needs. He's sat in judgment before when I was occupied." Something strained in him at the tease, teeth biting down on his lower lip as he watched the gentle sway of hips and ass, tempted once more to give in to desire. For a moment, his eyes rolled back, a vivid image forming in his mind, and his breathing quickened as a flush spread across his skin. "Not quite yet. Besides, I've often been told I'm too solemn. They want me to enjoy myself. Are you suggesting I shouldn't do that? Because I'm very much so enjoying myself now. More than I have in a very long time." Truthfully, his advisers would hold their tongues about this indiscretion once it became common knowledge. Nobody necessarily wanted this, but some would see it as a way to keep him distracted and others would try to use it as a way to gain more power, but none would protest... save perhaps Sansa. "If that's the worry, shall I invite the guards in and let them know to carry word that the screams are most certainly not of pain or torture? Or perhaps I'll provide them word to send to my councilors once my cock is taken care of."
Although he jested, once they'd sated themselves enough, he would take time to send word to Davos that he was well, but preoccupied. Anyone with enough sense would understand the meaning of that message. "I do favor striking sooner rather than later," he nodded slightly, "The issue lies with the weather. Marching once the storms have abates is well and good, but the going will still be slow and made slower by need to carry all our food with us. It's impossible to know when more snow will come as well. Either way, we'll risk much." That said, Jon was still in favor of striking sooner rather than waiting. Once spring came, the men would think of planting crops and raising families. War would be unpleasant reality that most would not desire facing. "You make fair points. I had not considered Dorne before, but the rest... I think we'd be fools not to take an opportunity like this if one presents itself." If Jon minded the more practical talk, which he didn't, his arousal didn't seem to care; his blood still sang as they chatted about the Freys and war.
"They still have the Baratheon lands as well, but with the Riverlands taken, any levies from the Westerlands would have to take Riverrun first. My brother once held the Kingslayer as prisoner. If we could manage to do so once more..." That might prove the key to ending Cersei's rule. None of her children had survived, but her brother, the man Stannis had claimed fathered those very same children, still lived. Defeating Jaime might very well me the end, whether she willed it or not. The vassals of House Tyrell might be forced to fight for her, but without a competent military commander loyal to the crown, any remnants might very well collapse under the strain. "I shall argue for it next time we meet." After a long moment of consideration, he'd reached a decision. "It might well be worth the risk. Once we move south, we'll likely be stuck there until spring comes." He glanced at her, a look of consideration passing over his face, hand cupping the side of her face. "If we do, you will come with me. I wouldn't be parted from you so soon. Or ever, if I can help it."
He smiled at her then and pressed more kisses, just as sweet, just as soft, to her mouth. "I love you dearly. Wherever I go, you go. That's that."