Author's Note: Until I was nearly sixteen, I never understood why
Alanna chose George over Jonathan. Now I understand perfectly, and yet the
pairing still speaks to me on a certain level. I wrote this scene for Against
All Odds, but I felt it deviated too much from my story line and had to severely
cut and modify it. So here is the scene in it's entirety. Enjoy!
Rating: PG-13 (For sensuality and sexual references)
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Please don't sue me! *groveling*
Summary: Alanna and Jon reflect on their past together and the future ahead of them. (A missing scene from Against All Odds) Alanna/Jon UST.
Bittersweet: An Interlude
by Caitlin
John flung the double doors open so wide that they rocked on their hinges as he stormed out onto the balcony. He kicked them shut in a display that felt all too childlike, yet oddly satisfying- as if the slam of the doors was the embodiment of his wrath. He moved towards the edge of the balcony and looked out across Corus. The view was magnificent; the city looked so beautiful from high above- but then everything looks beautiful when you're too far away to see how ugly it really is.
Even though the wind howled around his ears, he heard the telltale click of the doors behind him as she attempted to slip through them silently, trying not to disturb him. In truth, he had expected her, or at least hoped she would join him. Alanna always knew how to fix his messes.
Jonathan tensed as he felt her watch him, yet he made no effort to hide the over brightness of his eyes or the paleness around his lips. He knew her well enough to know that it was futile. And she knew better than to ask. Instead she moved to stand beside him, looking out across a sleeping Corus. She covered his hand with hers, and he loosened his tight grip in the balcony in response.
Absently, he took her hand in both of his, turning from the railing to face her. He held her hand, so different from Thayet's smooth, white palms, and yet beautiful in its own right. Alanna's hands had known the bite of frost, the weight of steel, and the splinter of wood. Despite the scarred ridges, the stubby, torn nails, and the calloused fingertips, he thought them the most beautiful hands he'd ever seen. As he held her hand in his own, he found himself trying to remember the things that had gotten foggy over long years: the feel of her hands on his skin, the mingled pain and pleasure as her fingers trailed roughly down his back, her tiny gasps of ecstasy while her nails pierced his flesh.
Hesitantly, almost shyly, he lifted her hands to his face and brushed them with his lips, closing his eyes at the feel of her roughened skin against his mouth. Again, he found himself recalling those long evenings of pleasure so many years ago, when he had held her in his arms late into the night. He found himself longing to take her into his arms again, claiming her as his own. With her so close, so tantalizingly near, it was easy to pretend that she still belonged to him, that this was his Lioness. Not his, he reminded himself. George's. Alanna belonged to George now. He'd lost her long ago, through no small fault of his own.
Reluctantly, he moved his lips from her fingertips and let their hands drop. Nevertheless, he did not release her hand, and she didn't pull away. In fact, she twined her fingers through his, locking them together. Jon looked down at their joined hands and thought about how natural it felt to stand here with her beside him, and he thought suddenly about how wonderful it would be for her to stand with him like this forever. He thought back to the fateful night when he'd lost her through his own arrogance and selfishness, and through her fear.
"Alanna, do you ever wonder..." he began, his heart pounding in his chest, his throat closing, unable to finish his sentence.
"About what?" she asked, turning to look at him. Her voice was indifferent and casual, but her eyes were dark pools of liquid fire. Jonathan quailed under their intensity.
"Oh, nothing, just whether or not all of this is worth it." He waved his hand over the city below them. "Worth everything we've given up over the years." He wondered if she'd heard the telltale tremor in his voice or the layer of meaning beneath his words.
Alanna reached over and cupped his cheek with her free hand, forcing him to meet her gaze, searching his eyes with hers. His breath caught in his throat as he looked into her smoldering violet eyes, burning with a truth that frightened him as much as it pleased him.
"Jon, not a day goes by that I don't wonder what might have happened if things had been different"
Jonathan took a moment to absorb her words, the weight of them sinking in slowly, his body surging with shock, then pleasure, and finally regret.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Alanna hushed him with her fingertips.
"Don't," she whispered. "There are too many if's and should've's and might have been's between us. I don't want to live like that. I don't think you do, either."
Alanna's hand hovered just above his lips as her eyes moved to rest on them. She licked her own lips and leaned forward infinitesimally, drawn to him, giving in to the temptation. She backed away abruptly, both of them knowing that one quick, searing kiss would not be worth the guilt they would experience in the morning. Instead, she removed her hand from his mouth and brought it to rest on his neck, pulling him forward as she stood on tiptoe to place a lingering kiss above his left brow. An observer would not have thought it any different from the kiss a king might expect to receive from his liege, yet the combination of warmth and wistfulness behind it was enough to stir him powerfully.
Alanna rested her head on his shoulder as they turned to watch the moon rise above Corus. Jonathan slipped his arm around her waist, enjoying her small sigh of contentment against his neck.
They stood there together for what seemed like hours, a knight and his squire, a man and his lover, a King and his Champion. They talked of times long passed, of memories made legends, of friends long gone. And as the cold wind howled around them, both found it hard to ignore the ache of bones that had aged without them noticing.
Jonathan groaned as he pulled her closer to ward off the cool night air. "We're getting old, Lady Knight."
"Scared?" she teased, her warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck.
"Terrified." he deadpanned. He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling. He tightened his grip on her. "I'm scared. Help me, Alanna."
He saw her throat work as she swallowed. He thought he heard a tiny sniffle over the roar of the wind, but he wondered it it was his imagination.
"I'm scared, too," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She lifted her head to look into his eyes, her own bright with unshed tears. "At least we can be scared together."
The End
A/N: *sniffle* How incredibly sappy. I promise never to write such sugary sweet syrup ever again. Chalk it up to Valentine's Day; I've been skewered. If you dredged through this sap then you can survive anything! So go read Against All Odds, the story this was intended for. (Of course, this is part of chapter 16 and AAO is only on Chapter 3-- and it's already over 24,000 words long!!! Woe is me!)
As such, I may be banishing my Lalasa side-story to yet another spin-off fan fiction!!! Lalasa/New Character: her competition; the shop keeper next door who balks when she tries to start tailoring men's clothing as well as women's. Owen serves as the peace maker.
And Jaqueline's misadventures at court with Owen have already been banished to their own fan fiction. Somebody kill my muse!!!
Rating: PG-13 (For sensuality and sexual references)
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Please don't sue me! *groveling*
Summary: Alanna and Jon reflect on their past together and the future ahead of them. (A missing scene from Against All Odds) Alanna/Jon UST.
Bittersweet: An Interlude
by Caitlin
John flung the double doors open so wide that they rocked on their hinges as he stormed out onto the balcony. He kicked them shut in a display that felt all too childlike, yet oddly satisfying- as if the slam of the doors was the embodiment of his wrath. He moved towards the edge of the balcony and looked out across Corus. The view was magnificent; the city looked so beautiful from high above- but then everything looks beautiful when you're too far away to see how ugly it really is.
Even though the wind howled around his ears, he heard the telltale click of the doors behind him as she attempted to slip through them silently, trying not to disturb him. In truth, he had expected her, or at least hoped she would join him. Alanna always knew how to fix his messes.
Jonathan tensed as he felt her watch him, yet he made no effort to hide the over brightness of his eyes or the paleness around his lips. He knew her well enough to know that it was futile. And she knew better than to ask. Instead she moved to stand beside him, looking out across a sleeping Corus. She covered his hand with hers, and he loosened his tight grip in the balcony in response.
Absently, he took her hand in both of his, turning from the railing to face her. He held her hand, so different from Thayet's smooth, white palms, and yet beautiful in its own right. Alanna's hands had known the bite of frost, the weight of steel, and the splinter of wood. Despite the scarred ridges, the stubby, torn nails, and the calloused fingertips, he thought them the most beautiful hands he'd ever seen. As he held her hand in his own, he found himself trying to remember the things that had gotten foggy over long years: the feel of her hands on his skin, the mingled pain and pleasure as her fingers trailed roughly down his back, her tiny gasps of ecstasy while her nails pierced his flesh.
Hesitantly, almost shyly, he lifted her hands to his face and brushed them with his lips, closing his eyes at the feel of her roughened skin against his mouth. Again, he found himself recalling those long evenings of pleasure so many years ago, when he had held her in his arms late into the night. He found himself longing to take her into his arms again, claiming her as his own. With her so close, so tantalizingly near, it was easy to pretend that she still belonged to him, that this was his Lioness. Not his, he reminded himself. George's. Alanna belonged to George now. He'd lost her long ago, through no small fault of his own.
Reluctantly, he moved his lips from her fingertips and let their hands drop. Nevertheless, he did not release her hand, and she didn't pull away. In fact, she twined her fingers through his, locking them together. Jon looked down at their joined hands and thought about how natural it felt to stand here with her beside him, and he thought suddenly about how wonderful it would be for her to stand with him like this forever. He thought back to the fateful night when he'd lost her through his own arrogance and selfishness, and through her fear.
"Alanna, do you ever wonder..." he began, his heart pounding in his chest, his throat closing, unable to finish his sentence.
"About what?" she asked, turning to look at him. Her voice was indifferent and casual, but her eyes were dark pools of liquid fire. Jonathan quailed under their intensity.
"Oh, nothing, just whether or not all of this is worth it." He waved his hand over the city below them. "Worth everything we've given up over the years." He wondered if she'd heard the telltale tremor in his voice or the layer of meaning beneath his words.
Alanna reached over and cupped his cheek with her free hand, forcing him to meet her gaze, searching his eyes with hers. His breath caught in his throat as he looked into her smoldering violet eyes, burning with a truth that frightened him as much as it pleased him.
"Jon, not a day goes by that I don't wonder what might have happened if things had been different"
Jonathan took a moment to absorb her words, the weight of them sinking in slowly, his body surging with shock, then pleasure, and finally regret.
He opened his mouth to speak, but Alanna hushed him with her fingertips.
"Don't," she whispered. "There are too many if's and should've's and might have been's between us. I don't want to live like that. I don't think you do, either."
Alanna's hand hovered just above his lips as her eyes moved to rest on them. She licked her own lips and leaned forward infinitesimally, drawn to him, giving in to the temptation. She backed away abruptly, both of them knowing that one quick, searing kiss would not be worth the guilt they would experience in the morning. Instead, she removed her hand from his mouth and brought it to rest on his neck, pulling him forward as she stood on tiptoe to place a lingering kiss above his left brow. An observer would not have thought it any different from the kiss a king might expect to receive from his liege, yet the combination of warmth and wistfulness behind it was enough to stir him powerfully.
Alanna rested her head on his shoulder as they turned to watch the moon rise above Corus. Jonathan slipped his arm around her waist, enjoying her small sigh of contentment against his neck.
They stood there together for what seemed like hours, a knight and his squire, a man and his lover, a King and his Champion. They talked of times long passed, of memories made legends, of friends long gone. And as the cold wind howled around them, both found it hard to ignore the ache of bones that had aged without them noticing.
Jonathan groaned as he pulled her closer to ward off the cool night air. "We're getting old, Lady Knight."
"Scared?" she teased, her warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of his neck.
"Terrified." he deadpanned. He couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smiling. He tightened his grip on her. "I'm scared. Help me, Alanna."
He saw her throat work as she swallowed. He thought he heard a tiny sniffle over the roar of the wind, but he wondered it it was his imagination.
"I'm scared, too," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She lifted her head to look into his eyes, her own bright with unshed tears. "At least we can be scared together."
The End
A/N: *sniffle* How incredibly sappy. I promise never to write such sugary sweet syrup ever again. Chalk it up to Valentine's Day; I've been skewered. If you dredged through this sap then you can survive anything! So go read Against All Odds, the story this was intended for. (Of course, this is part of chapter 16 and AAO is only on Chapter 3-- and it's already over 24,000 words long!!! Woe is me!)
As such, I may be banishing my Lalasa side-story to yet another spin-off fan fiction!!! Lalasa/New Character: her competition; the shop keeper next door who balks when she tries to start tailoring men's clothing as well as women's. Owen serves as the peace maker.
And Jaqueline's misadventures at court with Owen have already been banished to their own fan fiction. Somebody kill my muse!!!