PG-13 for vague references to sexual liasons.
The love triangle between George, Jon, and Alanna is well-documented and elaborated upon in fanon, but Thayet is seldom included. The fourth, most overlooked and under appreciated character in this alleged conflict has so much to offer. Alanna is the pivotal character in the insecurities, jealousies, and passions that bubble beneath the civilized surface of these character's interactions in canon. As such, the love rectangle, square, whatever it is, spins on her corner.
This is drivel that succumbs to the fannish tendency to make everything darker and more complicated at the expense of characterization, but I couldn't get it out of my head. Please R&R and share your thoughts. Constructive criticism is cherished.Four Corners
She hopes he's not thinking of her, scrapes his shoulder with her teeth just in case. She wants him here with her. She is not thinking about Jonathan.
She has stopped pretending that each time will be the last. Instead she looks to his visits, asks Myles more often for news of him. The first time it happened, she is sure he thought it was an accident, an anomaly. The next time they were alone, when she slid her arms around his neck in an embrace that was more than friendly, an embrace too intimately familiar to be suited for the husband of her friend and the friend of her husband, she smiled at the hesitation in his eyes. She wonders which steeled his resolve- the press of her body against his or the closed study doors she knew he could see over her shoulder. She tells herself it doesn't matter.
They continue to meet. Once in the stable lofts, the sounds of their love making harsh over the cooing of messenger birds. On the shores near the summer palace. In her rose garden amidst the heady scent of overripe blossoms. When she think about it, she is surprised that they have not been caught. She promises herself that from now on, she will bring him to her bed. She never does. She tells herself that it is the risk that makes it worthwhile.
When he tells her she is beautiful, she hides a bitter smile by kissing the hollow of his throat. She knows what he really means is that she is not the same.
But she doesn't dwell on it. She's always been good at lying to herself.
II. George
Everything about her is different.
And so he kisses her, and she lets him. Different.
He kisses her because her eyes aren't pools of violet, because his fingers are tangled in waves of ebony instead of fire, because her skin is pale silk against his. She is smooth and supple, and his hands travel soft curves instead of the hard angularity he is used to. Different.
He inhales the scent of her as they lie together. She smells like some sort of exotic flower. Alanna always smells of leather and sweat and lavender soap. Neither is better than the other. Just different.
He keeps his eyes open when they make love to remind himself. But no matter how many times their bodies meet, he is still surprised that he has only to bend his head a fraction of an inch before his lips find hers.
She wants to be caught, he can tell. He teases her, sucking at her neck, her breasts, her thighs, removing his mouth just moments before her skin is marked. He uses his teeth and his nails, but is careful to leave her skin unblemished and unbroken. He knows that she relishes the thrill of doing something wrong laced with the delicious anticipation of being discovered.
He understands.
He is, after all, a thief.
III. Jonathan
He is tired most evenings, though he hides it well. Dealing with the Scanrans has taken its toll. Thayet is distant and inattentive, and he thinks it's probably his fault. When this is over, he'll make it up to her he promises himself. A few weeks at the palace on the coast, and he's sure she'll forgive him everything.
Alanna sits across from him most evenings, slouched in a chair, feet on his desk, studying maps and battle strategies long after Raoul, Gary, and Buriram, and the others have left. Jon marvels at how having her close enough to touch feels new, even after several weeks. For nearly six years, their contact had been limited to stiff letters adorned with stamps and seals. He admits to himself that he's missed her in more ways than he ought to.
As she studies the maps, he studies her out of the corner of his eyes, wondering how he had almost lost her, proud that he has not. All of his charm, a few heartfelt words and special smiles, and it feels next to normal again. He wonders how she had lasted six years at all. He is smug it was not eight, as she had vowed. He promises himself it won't happen again.
When Gary enters, face somber and footsteps heavy, Alanna bends to retrieve her belt and scabbard. She stows the maps in the crook of her elbow and runs a hand absently up his arm and through is hair before she leaves, whispering a quiet goodbye to Gary and saving an intimate smile for him.
Jonathan swallows and doesn't think about it. Sleep-addled, he thinks, and he says as much before she shuts the door softly. She pokes her head back in to stick out her tongue.
Gary watches them, eyes hard and calculating. Somewhere along the way Gary became the Prime Minister in more ways than one, and Jonathan doesn't like it almost as much as he doesn't like the look in Gary's eyes.He asks him to sit, but Gary refuses and squares his shoulders. Jonathan is too tired to force the issue, but he knows he could win if he wanted to. Gary talks. He says only what's needed, what he knows for a fact, what Cythera has confided. Jonathan listens carefully, and a cold feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.
When Gary is finished, Jonathan says his thanks and nods in dismissal. Something flashes in Gary's eyes, and Jonathan thinks it might be pity.
He resolves to send Gary to Persopolis in the morning. Jonathan doesn't need anyone's pity.
IV. Alanna
She glances at Jonathan under veiled lashes as he eats his dinner stonily, regarding the empty space between the royal couple with mild interest. Thayet and George talk softly of inconsequential things. Alanna manufactures a smile to match the grating sound of Thayet's forced laughter. She winces as it reverberates of the walls.
Sitting here, watching the gap between them widen, Alanna feels as if she's witnessing something intimate that she has no right or wish to be privy to. She squeezes her husband's knee under the table, anxious to leave the couple to their feud. When she seeks out his eyes, his face is carefully blank- his game face. She raises her eyebrow in question. George shrugs and returns his attention to his plate.
Alanna stifles a sigh as she retrieves her fork and waves to an attendant for another bottle of wine. Taking her cue from Myles, she preoccupies herself with to the fine vintage.
After all, whatever is the matter here has nothing to do with her.
The End