fic: probably blasphemy
title: probably blasphemy
fandom: alanna the lioness series
pairing: jon/alanna
spoilers: in the hand of the goddess
notes: for my bb clotpoles. just stretching my writing muscles again so any feedback appreciated.
so, this is kind of written to fit in with laura's canon in which THEY TOTALLY HAD AN AFFAIR see here a canon which i totally agree with because it's epic and amazing.
Through the tiniest gap in the drapes, Alanna watched the sky turn black and pink. Usually she was out before the pink for fear of discovery, but Jon had all but ordered her to remain last night and it would have been all too easy just to say no.
Jon himself was sprawled all around, one arm thrown above his head and one across her middle, long legs every which way. Alanna took up much less space, more often curled up and closed off. He was the only one that still made her feel small - not intentionally, never. When he brushed her hand in the mess hall or gave her a look from across the stable, when he slid across her body in the quietest hours of the night or when his words carved a wicked path through her thoughts. He could mould her like molten glass and she was helpless, living for the shape of his breath.
She turned, legs brushing legs and her right hand coming to rest on his chest. His breath hitched for a moment as she brushed her fingers over his muscles, bound to his skeleton like secrets. It was hard to imagine what they were like before this. She couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t stealing glances and she blamed her red face on sunburn. They used to be friends, the best of, but now they were condemned to a fate where hearts would want.
“What time is it?” his voice was rough, like an uncut gem discovered on accident by a child.
“Not yet morning.”
“You’re still here.”
“I thought that was what you wanted.”
“I just assumed you wouldn’t listen.”
Alanna dug her smile into the mattress, holding still while Jon adjusted himself around her. He propped an elbow next to her head and coaxed her into looking at him. Warmth from his torso radiated into her own. He was close enough that she could see him, faint and hued by the morning light, blue eyes misted and dancing and completely consuming. When he captured her mouth with his own, she could do nothing but revel in the feel of his stubble and love.
“You,” he whispered against his mouth, every word a kiss in itself, “are the single most beautiful creature in any realm.”
“That is probably blasphemy, Jon.”
He only smiled and kissed her again, trailing his lips down her jaw and over the contours of her neck. Alanna looked up to the drapes again, the sliver sky in its first dress of grey-blue. She sighed.
“I have to go.”
“No you don’t.”
“Alanna…”
“Jonathan, I must.”
She disentangled herself from him once more, gathering her tunic and breeches from around the room. Jonathan only sat up in the bed and watched.
“Don’t look so miserable,” Alanna snapped almost accidentally. “I’ll see you in an hour, anyway.”
“I love you, Alanna.” It was not the first time he had told her so.
She froze and clutched her clothes to her chest. She never turned to face him, only straightened her back and tensed, as though preparing for an attack. A heavy sigh dropped from his lips.
“Get out.”
She turned slowly and faced him, her Prince, her lover, her liege. Her voice was flat and numbingly reasonable. “How does that change anything?”
He was annoyed. “I know you love me too.”
“I am not in love with you, Jonathan. I am lost in you.”
“What is the difference?”
“Love is… white dresses and silly declarations. It is gossip and trouble. You…” she cast her eyes to the ground. “I am not in love with you, Jonathan, because you and I both know that what we have is not what we want. What you want.”
“Perhaps it is not a question of want.”
And there it was, confirmation that he was in it as deep as her. Even then, Alanna knew.
“And I ask you again… what is the difference?”
“The difference is,” Jonathan leapt up now, pulling the sheets with him. “That there can be no one else after you. Don’t you see, Alanna? I didn’t start this on some whim - you are no flight of fancy. I ask you to stay until the morning so I can see you wake up, so I can get a glimpse at my future.”
“Jonathan-”
“Think what you like, Alanna. Think of weddings and wretched scandals. Because no matter what you think, I want you and I will always, always belong to you.”
Alanna looked from the floor, to his face, to the bundled gold of her tunic.
“And that's just the problem."
fandom: alanna the lioness series
pairing: jon/alanna
spoilers: in the hand of the goddess
notes: for my bb clotpoles. just stretching my writing muscles again so any feedback appreciated.
so, this is kind of written to fit in with laura's canon in which THEY TOTALLY HAD AN AFFAIR see here a canon which i totally agree with because it's epic and amazing.
Through the tiniest gap in the drapes, Alanna watched the sky turn black and pink. Usually she was out before the pink for fear of discovery, but Jon had all but ordered her to remain last night and it would have been all too easy just to say no.
Jon himself was sprawled all around, one arm thrown above his head and one across her middle, long legs every which way. Alanna took up much less space, more often curled up and closed off. He was the only one that still made her feel small - not intentionally, never. When he brushed her hand in the mess hall or gave her a look from across the stable, when he slid across her body in the quietest hours of the night or when his words carved a wicked path through her thoughts. He could mould her like molten glass and she was helpless, living for the shape of his breath.
She turned, legs brushing legs and her right hand coming to rest on his chest. His breath hitched for a moment as she brushed her fingers over his muscles, bound to his skeleton like secrets. It was hard to imagine what they were like before this. She couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t stealing glances and she blamed her red face on sunburn. They used to be friends, the best of, but now they were condemned to a fate where hearts would want.
“What time is it?” his voice was rough, like an uncut gem discovered on accident by a child.
“Not yet morning.”
“You’re still here.”
“I thought that was what you wanted.”
“I just assumed you wouldn’t listen.”
Alanna dug her smile into the mattress, holding still while Jon adjusted himself around her. He propped an elbow next to her head and coaxed her into looking at him. Warmth from his torso radiated into her own. He was close enough that she could see him, faint and hued by the morning light, blue eyes misted and dancing and completely consuming. When he captured her mouth with his own, she could do nothing but revel in the feel of his stubble and love.
“You,” he whispered against his mouth, every word a kiss in itself, “are the single most beautiful creature in any realm.”
“That is probably blasphemy, Jon.”
He only smiled and kissed her again, trailing his lips down her jaw and over the contours of her neck. Alanna looked up to the drapes again, the sliver sky in its first dress of grey-blue. She sighed.
“I have to go.”
“No you don’t.”
“Alanna…”
“Jonathan, I must.”
She disentangled herself from him once more, gathering her tunic and breeches from around the room. Jonathan only sat up in the bed and watched.
“Don’t look so miserable,” Alanna snapped almost accidentally. “I’ll see you in an hour, anyway.”
“I love you, Alanna.” It was not the first time he had told her so.
She froze and clutched her clothes to her chest. She never turned to face him, only straightened her back and tensed, as though preparing for an attack. A heavy sigh dropped from his lips.
“Get out.”
She turned slowly and faced him, her Prince, her lover, her liege. Her voice was flat and numbingly reasonable. “How does that change anything?”
He was annoyed. “I know you love me too.”
“I am not in love with you, Jonathan. I am lost in you.”
“What is the difference?”
“Love is… white dresses and silly declarations. It is gossip and trouble. You…” she cast her eyes to the ground. “I am not in love with you, Jonathan, because you and I both know that what we have is not what we want. What you want.”
“Perhaps it is not a question of want.”
And there it was, confirmation that he was in it as deep as her. Even then, Alanna knew.
“And I ask you again… what is the difference?”
“The difference is,” Jonathan leapt up now, pulling the sheets with him. “That there can be no one else after you. Don’t you see, Alanna? I didn’t start this on some whim - you are no flight of fancy. I ask you to stay until the morning so I can see you wake up, so I can get a glimpse at my future.”
“Jonathan-”
“Think what you like, Alanna. Think of weddings and wretched scandals. Because no matter what you think, I want you and I will always, always belong to you.”
Alanna looked from the floor, to his face, to the bundled gold of her tunic.
“And that's just the problem."