Claire wouldn't mind. She's learned plenty of details about Jon's life that perhaps shouldn't be shared, but at this point, they're family. It's what has her giving his next question some more consideration than what might actually be necessary. Maybe it's good for him to know her family wasn't picturesque.
"He married the woman he loves, and she loves him, so I think so. She's actually my husband's step-daughter," she admits with a little huff of a laugh. Oh, she can see the humor in it now, but Claire was hardly the happiest woman to find out Jamie not only remarried, but now was step-father to two girls.
It wasn't so much the marrying, but who he married. Laoghaire nearly had her burned at the stake for being a witch. To think of that still makes Claire's blood boil, but Marsali was (thankfully) very different from her mother.
Jon's comment makes her smile, thoughts of Laoghaire brushed away as she looks over at him.
"I always wanted children. I thought for a very long time that I was unable." The problem wasn't with her, as she found out--but while Faith showed her she could conceive, her pregnancies were never easy. Even Brianna's would could have taken her life had she stayed in the 18th century. "We would joke about having a dozen of them. I think I would have liked that, if it were possible. Things didn't come to pass the way we hoped, but I've managed all right with what I've found."
Sansa and Jon being two of them.
"He married the woman he loves, and she loves him, so I think so. She's actually my husband's step-daughter," she admits with a little huff of a laugh. Oh, she can see the humor in it now, but Claire was hardly the happiest woman to find out Jamie not only remarried, but now was step-father to two girls.
It wasn't so much the marrying, but who he married. Laoghaire nearly had her burned at the stake for being a witch. To think of that still makes Claire's blood boil, but Marsali was (thankfully) very different from her mother.
Jon's comment makes her smile, thoughts of Laoghaire brushed away as she looks over at him.
"I always wanted children. I thought for a very long time that I was unable." The problem wasn't with her, as she found out--but while Faith showed her she could conceive, her pregnancies were never easy. Even Brianna's would could have taken her life had she stayed in the 18th century. "We would joke about having a dozen of them. I think I would have liked that, if it were possible. Things didn't come to pass the way we hoped, but I've managed all right with what I've found."
Sansa and Jon being two of them.
Again, you have my thanks. I can't say I knew what to expect. The... Orbiters weren't particularly forthcoming with information on what they expected, other than obedience and fitting in. It would be easier to do if new faces weren't outright called traitor.
[He fell in step with Jon, following him where he led and keeping an eye out for any more curious or questioning faces.]
[He fell in step with Jon, following him where he led and keeping an eye out for any more curious or questioning faces.]
I have... practice at feigned humility. At least the only life at risk here is my own, and that makes having to play the cow that much easier.
[When he had an entire land behind him... people... his family... That had been harder. And yet, he'd still done so. Because he'd had to, and a Prince's decisions always had to be about the best for his people.]
Perhaps our ignorance is our test, mm?
[When he had an entire land behind him... people... his family... That had been harder. And yet, he'd still done so. Because he'd had to, and a Prince's decisions always had to be about the best for his people.]
Perhaps our ignorance is our test, mm?
"And no one wants a distraction?" It's hard to look at this world and not see previous patterns, hard to stifle the gut reaction of wondering who has something to gain by turning the natives - from both cities - and the refugees against each other. Wanda supposes she'll find out eventually. They are men, not machines, and they can't hide their true selves from her. "It sounds like something must have happened." Or someone made something happen.
Just like Sokovia. Strange, to have come all this way and still find herself confronting a variation on the same basic problem.
"I found my brother," she says as she starts trying to work the knots out of her hair. "And some other people from my world." Thank goodness she'd been able to get most of the mud off her clothes earlier. If she can get her hair looking a little more presentable, Wanda might just be able to pass as a traveler who had nothing whatsoever to do with the ships they shot down.
There's just the not-so-small problem of red and black being Wyver's colors, but it's too late to do anything about that now. "I hope this works. I can think of other ways to get in, but this is best. Less trouble."
Just like Sokovia. Strange, to have come all this way and still find herself confronting a variation on the same basic problem.
"I found my brother," she says as she starts trying to work the knots out of her hair. "And some other people from my world." Thank goodness she'd been able to get most of the mud off her clothes earlier. If she can get her hair looking a little more presentable, Wanda might just be able to pass as a traveler who had nothing whatsoever to do with the ships they shot down.
There's just the not-so-small problem of red and black being Wyver's colors, but it's too late to do anything about that now. "I hope this works. I can think of other ways to get in, but this is best. Less trouble."
It gets even worse. Claire hesitates, lips pressing together for a moment. She hasn't told many people this, but Jon's earned it, of all people.
"Well. I was actually married before I married Jamie. He wasn't." A virgin on their wedding night, he really had no idea what a marriage was. Which meant a rocky start, but in the end, Claire's glad he was clueless. It meant he did what felt right and not what was expected. "I thought I'd never see my first husband again, and there were circumstances that required I marry into Jamie's family, so..."
That's not the whole truth. She could have returned to Frank, her husband, but she choose Jamie. A thing she's never regretted, though she does regret the pain she caused Frank, then, and for the rest of his life. She's not always been a kind woman. Claire takes a breath and glances up at the sky.
"But war came, and Jamie had to send me away, because--that's when we found out I was pregnant with Brianna. I ended up with my first husband again, and... well. I thought Jamie was dead, and he thought I must be, too." Or just gone, out of reach. "For twenty years, we had no idea it was possible to find one another again, so he remarried, and I raised his daughter with Frank. We carried on."
Always tragic, she felt, that Jamie never got to see either of his daughters with her in the flesh. A thing that could change here but she doesn't dare hope.
"After my first husband died, I found out Jamie was still alive, and so I found him." And all the shocks that come along with that. "My being alive made his marriage invalid, but he still looked after them. He's a good man like that."
And, she probably shouldn't say this, but she's already told Jon enough that should have probably be kept to herself. What's one more?
"He had a bastard, too. The boy didn't know Jamie was his father, but Jamie loved him very much, and inquired after him even after years apart. I'm sure he's up in stasis, somewhere." Claire hasn't looked. Maybe she will one day. Just not yet.
She gives Jon a warm smile. "I don't think boys often grow up dreaming about being husbands and fathers. I assume it's more about slaying monsters and saving damsels in distress, no?" That must be universal.
"Well. I was actually married before I married Jamie. He wasn't." A virgin on their wedding night, he really had no idea what a marriage was. Which meant a rocky start, but in the end, Claire's glad he was clueless. It meant he did what felt right and not what was expected. "I thought I'd never see my first husband again, and there were circumstances that required I marry into Jamie's family, so..."
That's not the whole truth. She could have returned to Frank, her husband, but she choose Jamie. A thing she's never regretted, though she does regret the pain she caused Frank, then, and for the rest of his life. She's not always been a kind woman. Claire takes a breath and glances up at the sky.
"But war came, and Jamie had to send me away, because--that's when we found out I was pregnant with Brianna. I ended up with my first husband again, and... well. I thought Jamie was dead, and he thought I must be, too." Or just gone, out of reach. "For twenty years, we had no idea it was possible to find one another again, so he remarried, and I raised his daughter with Frank. We carried on."
Always tragic, she felt, that Jamie never got to see either of his daughters with her in the flesh. A thing that could change here but she doesn't dare hope.
"After my first husband died, I found out Jamie was still alive, and so I found him." And all the shocks that come along with that. "My being alive made his marriage invalid, but he still looked after them. He's a good man like that."
And, she probably shouldn't say this, but she's already told Jon enough that should have probably be kept to herself. What's one more?
"He had a bastard, too. The boy didn't know Jamie was his father, but Jamie loved him very much, and inquired after him even after years apart. I'm sure he's up in stasis, somewhere." Claire hasn't looked. Maybe she will one day. Just not yet.
She gives Jon a warm smile. "I don't think boys often grow up dreaming about being husbands and fathers. I assume it's more about slaying monsters and saving damsels in distress, no?" That must be universal.
The pace is frenzied and nothing at all like the boat, where things had been slow and measured. But had they truly been that way? It felt as if she could find nothing to grapple, as if the world threatened to slip out from beneath her feet and from her grasp with each of his thrusts. And with each of his thrusts, everything turned into a finely honed edge, her world narrowing to him. Jon Snow. Her love and lover.
Still, that had been dizzying in a different way. This time, she's dizzied by so many factors: the lack of inhibitions, the desperate need to claim, and, simply, him. Each of his thrusts are sharp, and though she cannot find a complimentary rhythm to roll her hips to, she still manages to angle herself--a tilt of the pelvis--so that her clit grinds against him with each rock.
Little starbursts of pleasure are the result. Nails dig into his shoulders, gripping, scraping, leaving bright red marks in relation to the intensity of his thrusts. It's not until nails dig into her flesh, sharp and sudden... and his teeth press down against her sharp enough to hurt--
--but also sharp enough for that pain to morph into blinding pleasure. The sort that has her moaning, her cunt contracting spasmodically around his cock. And it hits her so fast and suddenly: thrust--the pressure builds--thrust--molten heat--thrust--warmth filling her, briefly, as he spills his seed into her. She's mindless, sandwiched between he and the wall, tilting her head to the side so he can better reach her neck. Nails rake down his back. More, more, more. She needs so much more of him.
He's coming, however, and she's just on the cusp. So she reaches between them and toys with her clit, sure fingers and strokes that tease, tease, tease, has her head tilting back and her body arching sharply--and then the sensation reaches its peak and her orgasm hits her. Fast. Unrelenting. Inner muscles contracting around his quickly softening cock
Still, that had been dizzying in a different way. This time, she's dizzied by so many factors: the lack of inhibitions, the desperate need to claim, and, simply, him. Each of his thrusts are sharp, and though she cannot find a complimentary rhythm to roll her hips to, she still manages to angle herself--a tilt of the pelvis--so that her clit grinds against him with each rock.
Little starbursts of pleasure are the result. Nails dig into his shoulders, gripping, scraping, leaving bright red marks in relation to the intensity of his thrusts. It's not until nails dig into her flesh, sharp and sudden... and his teeth press down against her sharp enough to hurt--
--but also sharp enough for that pain to morph into blinding pleasure. The sort that has her moaning, her cunt contracting spasmodically around his cock. And it hits her so fast and suddenly: thrust--the pressure builds--thrust--molten heat--thrust--warmth filling her, briefly, as he spills his seed into her. She's mindless, sandwiched between he and the wall, tilting her head to the side so he can better reach her neck. Nails rake down his back. More, more, more. She needs so much more of him.
He's coming, however, and she's just on the cusp. So she reaches between them and toys with her clit, sure fingers and strokes that tease, tease, tease, has her head tilting back and her body arching sharply--and then the sensation reaches its peak and her orgasm hits her. Fast. Unrelenting. Inner muscles contracting around his quickly softening cock
[The question earned Jon a raised brow, but he couldn't say after meeting those aboard the station he'd seen that he might not have asked himself if he'd found his suspicion's aroused.]
I was. Now I am... something else. But I give you my word, I mean no harm.
I was. Now I am... something else. But I give you my word, I mean no harm.
A quiet hum is her response. That he doesn't expand on the thought is answer enough to leave the topic alone. Whatever the length of time was didn't matter. They were still here, in this world... and their world was gone.
Were all those from their world here? Every man, woman, and child? Or were there sacrifices, even in those who would be saved? Would she recognize any of the slaves from Essos, if she bothered to venture deeper into the stasis room? Would she find Pyat Pree, and even Mirri Maz Duur? ...Doreah? Those are things she wishes not to dwell on, so instead, Dany focuses on his comment about food.
"Better than sheep?" She lifts her brows, her tone taking on a more horrified hint to it, and shakes her head. Her gaze flicks back down to the lantern with his painting. It's likely best he is a warrior and not a painter... just like she's a queen and not a poet. "There's nothing better than sheep."
Were all those from their world here? Every man, woman, and child? Or were there sacrifices, even in those who would be saved? Would she recognize any of the slaves from Essos, if she bothered to venture deeper into the stasis room? Would she find Pyat Pree, and even Mirri Maz Duur? ...Doreah? Those are things she wishes not to dwell on, so instead, Dany focuses on his comment about food.
"Better than sheep?" She lifts her brows, her tone taking on a more horrified hint to it, and shakes her head. Her gaze flicks back down to the lantern with his painting. It's likely best he is a warrior and not a painter... just like she's a queen and not a poet. "There's nothing better than sheep."
Clearly something is going on behind the scenes, but there will be time to worry about the internal politics of Olympia and Wyver later. For now, she needs to focus on getting in, hopefully without having to hex someone into next week.
So she does as Jon has instructed, very mindful that she can't say anything at all if they intend to keep up the ruse. Their accents don't match, and it would be hard to convince someone that they're from the same place. Better to pretend that she is just very shy and give the guard a small smile. Hopefully he won't ask too many questions.
So she does as Jon has instructed, very mindful that she can't say anything at all if they intend to keep up the ruse. Their accents don't match, and it would be hard to convince someone that they're from the same place. Better to pretend that she is just very shy and give the guard a small smile. Hopefully he won't ask too many questions.
The look, at least, makes Claire bite back a laugh. Oh, now she can laugh herself about the strangeness of it all, but before? Not so much. Though she does sober up when she replies to his question.
"When I was with each of then, it was believed the other was dead. So... I suppose that got overlooked, in a way. With a husband dead, there's no official need to dissolve a marriage." Or, you know, if they're hundreds of years apart.
Claire actually doesn't know if Willie is aware he's adopted--his mother died giving birth to him, and so his sister took the boy in, as Jamie told her. And then John Grey married her, becoming his father. It'd be easy enough to pass the boy off as their own and keep him safe in the process.
"Fergus? Oh, no. He's not ours by blood. My husband only ever frequented brothels for business purposes." Which sounds like a sorry excuse a husband would make, she knows, but she knows Jamie was never a patron. Not ever. "I do think of my husband's son now and then. Maybe more so these days," she says with a knowing smile towards Jon. Wonder why? "I don't know how I'd receive him were he to wake up and come down here."
Or how to explain herself.
"When I was with each of then, it was believed the other was dead. So... I suppose that got overlooked, in a way. With a husband dead, there's no official need to dissolve a marriage." Or, you know, if they're hundreds of years apart.
Claire actually doesn't know if Willie is aware he's adopted--his mother died giving birth to him, and so his sister took the boy in, as Jamie told her. And then John Grey married her, becoming his father. It'd be easy enough to pass the boy off as their own and keep him safe in the process.
"Fergus? Oh, no. He's not ours by blood. My husband only ever frequented brothels for business purposes." Which sounds like a sorry excuse a husband would make, she knows, but she knows Jamie was never a patron. Not ever. "I do think of my husband's son now and then. Maybe more so these days," she says with a knowing smile towards Jon. Wonder why? "I don't know how I'd receive him were he to wake up and come down here."
Or how to explain herself.
He would always leave her wanting, as it turns out--neither of them had realized it, yet.
It's all so overwhelming: her reason for seeking him, that they rushed off to this place, the way they'd rutted at first, only to grow a touch more tender. When he moves, she stirs against him, tightening both arms and legs, wrapped around his shoulders and hips. Her breaths are heavy, both because of the humidity of the springs, and because of their activities. Activities. No, that sounds too impersonal.
Only when he begins to settle them in the water does she shift, and only when he sits. She'll uncross her legs, folding her knees so she's straddling him properly, perfectly content with sitting atop his lap like this. The afforded privacy is like a breath of fresh air to her. SHe's no worries of being interrupted with him. No fear that an enemy will pop up and cause problems.
"Not even to relax?" When he speaks, she's leaning back enough to look him in the eye. Yes, she's sated--for now. "I walked through this district on my way to you. It seems harmless enough."
She'd given the place little thought before, and she does so now, instead contenting herself with soaking up the heat of the water with a soft sigh.
It's all so overwhelming: her reason for seeking him, that they rushed off to this place, the way they'd rutted at first, only to grow a touch more tender. When he moves, she stirs against him, tightening both arms and legs, wrapped around his shoulders and hips. Her breaths are heavy, both because of the humidity of the springs, and because of their activities. Activities. No, that sounds too impersonal.
Only when he begins to settle them in the water does she shift, and only when he sits. She'll uncross her legs, folding her knees so she's straddling him properly, perfectly content with sitting atop his lap like this. The afforded privacy is like a breath of fresh air to her. SHe's no worries of being interrupted with him. No fear that an enemy will pop up and cause problems.
"Not even to relax?" When he speaks, she's leaning back enough to look him in the eye. Yes, she's sated--for now. "I walked through this district on my way to you. It seems harmless enough."
She'd given the place little thought before, and she does so now, instead contenting herself with soaking up the heat of the water with a soft sigh.
"I've eaten my fair share of foods." But she doesn't discuss her own preferences, which veer toward sweeter things. Indulgences such as oranges and persimmons. The reminder of which has her thinking she should go search the vendor stalls to see if perhaps they have fruit similar enough in taste.
So used to not having these things upon her arrival in Westeros, food is the last thing to consider. And is considering her preferences and searching for them now a sign of complacency, or a willingness to settle in these lands?
"They'll eat what they can obtain, but much like you and I, they have their preferences." In Drogon's adolescence, that was not always a good thing. "They've caught food from the sea during our travels. They're resourceful enough."
So used to not having these things upon her arrival in Westeros, food is the last thing to consider. And is considering her preferences and searching for them now a sign of complacency, or a willingness to settle in these lands?
"They'll eat what they can obtain, but much like you and I, they have their preferences." In Drogon's adolescence, that was not always a good thing. "They've caught food from the sea during our travels. They're resourceful enough."
Page 3 of 5