There’s no real push to your actions; you do them as if they were second nature. Perhaps, initially, you were assigned this role, as protector and guardian of this person. Maybe you took it on because there was no one else. A natural guardian or not, good or evil, you caught a shining to them and felt…something. Something hard to explain, but you want to keep them safe and happy - or at the very least, content. No one is as dedicated to them as you. You want them to reach their goals; to help them achieve them, you'll do what you must, even if it means being their gofer or their right hand.
But most of all, you don't want them to end up like you. They're worth more than that.
Yet somehow, along the line, you became more to them, more than just their protector. You protect them anew and you've found a different way to make them happy. It's selfish, too, because you love them in your way and you want them more than anything. You may feel guilty, of course. They don't, though, and that's what matters.
- Comment with your character, preferences, and what you'd prefer to play: protector or protected.
- Remember, you don't have to be so rigid. A traditionally weak character can "protect" a traditionally strong one in emotional ways.
- Reply to others.
- Promise ✖ You told them you would take care of their lover, no matter what. You intend to follow through with that.
- Close ✖ What are friends for if not taking care of unfinished business?
- Debt Owed ✖ Kindness or favor has to be repaid, even if it's an investment in someone else.
- Atonement ✖ Whether or not you particularly cared for the person who's gone is irrelevant. You just need to make up for past sins.
- No Good ✖ You're taking care of the one left behind, but not out of good intentions. There may be ulterior motives here - no, there are definitely ulterior motives here. Or maybe this is the one good thing you've done in your life.
- Guilt ✖ It's your fault that you're here and their significant other isn't. It's a paltry repayment.
- Bearer of Bad News ✖ You can't blame them for wanting to shoot the messenger. You are telling them their lover is dead.
- Related ✖ In days past, the living partner would be cared for by their dead partner's family. As a sibling or cousin of the deceased, you want to continue that tradition and take care of "family."
- Wo/man Up ✖ Actually, their lover isn't dead, they're just dead to you, unable or unwilling to take care of business. You're stepping up.
- Friends ✖ You were all friends before, so it's only natural for you to want to look out for them now.
- Derisive ✖ ...this is the person they loved so much? This is who you're supposed to protect? Pathetic.
- Resentful ✖ You can never forgive them. They're the reason your lover is dead, no matter how they treat you.
- What They Saw in You ✖ You're beginning to see why someone would love them, how they'd want to give up their old ways and change. It's almost...nice.
- Warming Up ✖ If you didn't get along at first, the claws are being put away now. It's better to at least be civil, isn't it?
- Still in Danger ✖ Whatever killed one half of the pair is still out there, and the other half is in danger themselves.
- Other Complications ✖ Not only did your mutual acquaintance leave behind a lover, but also children. You find yourself getting closer and closer to them, too, even if they aren't yours.
- Compromised ✖ You can't look after them with a level head. You love them.
- Can't Love Again ✖ You've lost before. You can't risk losing again, can you?
- Out of the Dark ✖ One or both of you find yourselves in a hole. You can barely eat, hardly sleep, and depression has taken hold of you. Together, though, you may find the light and a way out of despair.
- First Time ✖ Simply what it says. You two have taken your relationship to the next level.
- Changed ✖ Before, you were bitter. Hard. Jaded. Now, helping someone - specifically, helping this person - has brought a new kind of joy into your life. You could get used to it. Easily and dangerously used to it, to be brutally honest. You shouldn't allow it.
- Living Together ✖ You can take care of them more throughly if you're in the same place as they are, obviously.
- Hidden Jealousy ✖ When their lover was alive, you were jealous of everything they had - including the fact that they had the person you're looking after now. Admitting this may make you feel like the most awful person in the world.
- Secrets Revealed ✖ Eventually, your involvement with the death of their beloved will come out, and they will never be able to look at you the same way.
- Dependent ✖ Replacing one unhealthy habit with another, you've become utterly dependent on your relationship with your caretaker, your guardian, your lover.
- Won't Be a Replacement ✖ You can't help but feel as if you're merely serving as a stand in for what they've lost. It's understandable, yet you still can't allow yourself to be that and only that.
- Not Really Gone ✖ What is dead should stay dead, but what if who you thought was gone isn't really out of the picture? Will they be happy with finding someone else so cozy and in love with their special someone?
- The Same Mistakes ✖ You're falling into the same patterns that lead to their death. Will you meet the same fate?
- Who's Helping Who ✖ You think you're taking care of them and helping them through their loss. Is that the case? But who's never been this happy before in their life?
- Move On ✖ It's time to put ghosts to rest and let old demons go. You can't let your life become a graveyard.
- Tragedy ✖ The ending is unhappy or even deadly for both of you.
- Happy Ending ✖ In contrast to the above, you're both able to live as together as happily as you possibly can, whatever can be allowed.
- WILDCARD
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bakerstreet2016-09-20 08:57 am
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Margaery grinned, kissing him deeply before answering, "It sounds perfect. A bed worthy for the Lord Commander." Though when they were alone together, he would only be Jon in her eyes. He was held to no oaths, save for the one he had made to her before they left.
Her body trembled, remembering the times that they had collapsed into bed together. Usually it had been when he returned from King's Landing from visiting the other holds. Their reunions and partings have been passionate in an effort to satisfy them for the long separation. There would be more of those, as he would need to be at the wall, but they would not nearly be as agonizing. He would always return to her.
She gasped against his ear, arching her back as rolled her hips tantalizingly against him, urging him deeper still within her.
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Fire would be precisely the word he would use for his feelings for Margaery-- not just the welcoming, soothing warmth of the hearth, but passionate blazes that consumed everything around that was not them. And for a man who had spent nearly every day of his life cold, sometimes bitterly so, to know heat so intimately now made it a feeling he could never bear to part with.
Jon's mouth worked against hers before smiling. "And for his Lady," he completed. Perhaps they would never be able to be officially wed, but he had no doubt in his mind that Margaery was his and he hers, in every way that truly mattered.
She moved on him with a writhing, sinuous grace that made him shiver. As her heat rocked up and down his length, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, tasting and nipping at the smooth skin and feeling her pulse beneath his lips. "I love you so much," he rasped.
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She grinned down at him, returning the kiss, only pulling away to murmur, "his lady love." She seized forward once again, crashing her lips against his. They may not be wed, but it mattered little in her mind. She was his in all ways, as he was hers. Perhaps she might grow concerned once there were children, but they would never be bastards in her eyes. They would have a name, even if it was one that she created.
She moaned breathlessly as he her hips increased the pace, losing herself in the tempest of emotion and desire that was consuming her. His words sent a shiver through her, causing her to gasp against his hair. "I love you. I love you with everything I am."
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"His lady love," Jon agreed, as clearly as he could while their mouths worked hungrily at each other. There would never be enough Margaery for him now, never enough kisses or embraces, never enough sighs or moans or cries, never enough of her smile or the tender light in her eyes. Jon craved her more than he craved breath.
They moved together, still in perfect rhythm even as Margaery quickened that tempo. Jon followed her as though it were the most natural thing in the world. It was certainly the most welcome and wonderful, holding her close, being inside of her.
His breathing was growing shorter, more ragged, and so it stole his ability to respond to her vow with anything but burying his face in her neck, kissing and nipping at the skin there.
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Yet, through one rash decision, she had found the means to rest forever in his arms and enjoy the warmth of his embrace. She would feel his lips, have him inside her and hold him during the night. Her life would have more meaning than it might have otherwise.
Her nails gripped his back, dragging slowly up him as she arched her body, accepting the frenzy of his thrusts and matched his excitement.
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In the beginning, he had been greatly suspicious; not of Margaery, of course, or her motives for seeking him out and continuing their dalliance, but of the mere fact that he had seemed to find a measure of happiness. Jon had lived for so long under the belief that even his simplest moments of contentment were destined to be ripped to shreds that the joy of being with Margaery must have meant he was heading for just as great a sorrow.
Soon enough, though, even Jon found the wisdom to simply enjoy their love and their connection and treasure it for however long it lasted. And now that they were away from King's Landing, perhaps that could be a very long time indeed.
Quickly, he could feel Margaery matching his quickened pace. Her heated tightness and the frantic collisions of their bodies had him groaning and growling into her mouth or against her skin. Jon's hands pawed at her, caressing and gripping while he hissed at her nails drew hot lines on his back.
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Meeting with Jon was supposed to last for one night. One night of foolishness that could be forgotten about the next day. Soon after, she craved his touch and found herself missing him in the night. When he was gone from the city, she felt genuine sorrow and cried when she was alone. She had controlled so much of her life, but there was no controlling what was born out of their passions.
She gripped his hair tightly, tilting his head back so that she might bestow her own fierce kisses on him. She tightened around his length, deepening the friction between them. Her breath was coming ragged as she felt herself building towards that precipice that she had come to expect and crave.
She couldn't be without him anymore. She loved him.
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He'd heard many things about the Rose of Highgarden prior to meeting Margaery, even though Jon made it a point to pay little heed to rumors and the words of anyone who might have desire to try to get into the Lord Commander's good graces with false words. Seven hells, even the Queen Mother had seemed openly derisive of Margaery during Jon's brief interaction with Cersei.
Now, of course, he understood. He had seen what it took for a woman to secure her place in the world, and Margaery had simply parlayed a fortunate start into the highest of stations.
A station she had abandoned to be with him. It was a responsibility that should have weighed Jon down but instead filled him with happiness. She was his world, and nothing gave him more joy than knowing she was his.
Jon almost laughed as Margaery's kisses grew hungrier and her movements more intense. This was also a surprising side of the woman Jon imagined he had something to do with unleashing, much to his enjoyment. So for the moment, he kissed her back and let her set the pace. Jon could feel her reaching her climax, and wanted little more than to watch as she went over that edge.
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Yet, she didn't care. Parting with Jon had seemed the greater tragedy of her life. Despite her worldliness and independence, now that she had been exposed to love and made to crave it, she couldn't let it slip through her fingers. Not when there was a chance to revel in it for the rest of her days (which might come sooner, if they were caught.)
She gripped tightly to his shoulders as her movements lost all rhythm. Her hips rocked without abandon, burying him deeply within her tightening walls. Her head tipped back as her lungs drew in air raggedly. This was the fiercer ride of the day and she was near breakneck speed, showing the same passion that they normally had whenever he was to leave King's Landing.
She gasped loudly, suddenly feeling herself tip and fall over the precipice, crashing down in climax. She rested her head against his shoulder, letting the sound be buried against his skin. "I love you," she whispered to him when she could find her voice once more.
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Jon was a bastard. He held no title, no rank, no wealth. Indeed, that had been why he'd been sent to the Wall to take the Black rather than travel down to King's Landing with the rest of his family. But he was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch now, and as such a man with a great responsibility-- not only to the Watch, but to the world of Man, now that he knew what kind of dangers lay in store for them. He too was risking everything, including his life if it was determined having a lover was enough like taking a wife and he was thus breaking his vows to the Watch.
But all such things paled in comparison to the idea of no longer seeing Margaery's face, peaceful and contented with sleep, in the bed beside him... of no longer holding her in his arms, or hearing her laugh or the way she said his name.. or the way she told him she loved him in the breathless stillness after her climax.
Jon tilted his head up to kiss her. "I love you," he swore in response, then, with no small amount of care, managed to bring them both down to the pallet, Margaery resting atop him. His hips began to roll again, heat rising in his body as he rushed ever closer to his own release.
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Retribution would be given someday. It was only a matter of if they could hide well enough and not raise many questions. She would need to consider what to do to keep them safe, but not now, not while in Jon's arms and feeling him race wildly towards bliss.
She smiled down at him as he lay back against the pallet. Her hips rocked steadily, finding her rhythm again, no matter how much her body ached from her earlier efforts. She wanted to feel him come undone. She wanted to watch as he lost himself and spilled inside her.
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When you were living on a kind of borrowed time, you needed to make the most of every moment, Jon supposed. Perhaps that was one reason why their passion for each other ran so high and so hot-- there was always the chance it would all disappear by the next day. While he did not care to dwell on the possibilities of separation, Jon was happy to focus on wringing every bit of joy from his time with Margaery, however long it was destined to be.
He smiled up at the woman he loved as she rode him. Between the sight of her loveliness and the hot, slick feeling of her taking him within her, the feeling of his climax rushed onto him quickly. "Now, my love, now--" he managed to groan out before his muscles tightened, his back arched, and he released himself inside of Margaery. Once, twice, three times his hips pushed upwards, and then his body went limp beneath her.
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Despite this, she relished the moment between them. He moved deeply within her, his thrusts becoming ragged and frenzied. Finally, he tensed and came beneath her. She lay on top of him, listening to the frantic beating of his heart and the way his breath seemed harsh in the air.
"I love you," she reaffirmed to him, brushing his hair from his face. "So long as our nights are like this, I don't care where we go."
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Jon nodded. "There has to be a way, my love. We'll find it. A way to be together with no one else to bother us, where it can be you, me, and our bed and nothing else in the world." A foolish dream, to be certain, but one that would surely carry them both through the difficulties that lay ahead.
They rested for a while. Although time was of the essence, neither of them was particularly eager to get back onto their horses. Dawn was just beginning to peek over the horizon when they rode away from the inn.
Looking across at Margaery, he gave her a smile. That was all he needed to know he was doing the right thing, the only thing his heart could allow him to do without breaking. Jon turned their horses in the direction of the Wall, so far away, and they set off.
[OOC: Sound like a good end?]
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