“Let me stay,” Jon said in a low voice, not breaking eye contact.
There was silence.
“You have no idea what you’re asking.”
“What do you take me for, a boy who blushes when a comely girl looks his way?”
More silence followed.
“No, I take you for the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. But you’re still a boy in many ways.”
Jon wanted to shout back, “I killed the boy! I killed him, haven’t I proven that to you yet?” But he never got a chance to, for when he opened his mouth, Stannis grabbed his face with his two hands and tilted it upwards before roughly kissing him, forcing Jon to swallow his retort.
~
Later that night, when Jon was lying exhausted and spent next to Stannis on the king’s bed, he noticed a white scar on the man’s left shoulder. The scar was too jagged and wide to be caused by a knife or a sword, and it looked almost as if something had tried to bite him.
Mimicking Stannis’ touches earlier in the evening (for most all subsequent touches had been hard and desperate enough to leave bruises), Jon lightly traced the scar. When he could feel Stannis’ yes on him, he asked:
“Where was this scar from?”
“A hawk. Its owner didn’t care for me either, much like your eagle.” His voice was sad, a tone that Jon had heard him use only once before, when he lamented not keeping his Hand at his side.
“Did you kill the owner as well?”
“No, as much as I was sometimes tempted to. I would have taken his love instead.” Stannis let out a long sigh. “When I was a boy, I nursed an injured goshawk hack to health. The bird, Proudwing, became so fond of me that she would sit on my shoulder and fly after me around Storm’s End—but never properly hawk. Robert had a gyrfalcon that was as vicious and as deadly as they came. On day, when Poudwing was sitting on my shoulder, Thunderclap dived from out of nowhere in an attempted attack on my bird. I can still sometimes feel that damnable hawk’s talons and beak digging into my shoulder.”
Jon was slightly horrified at the tale. It was akin to if Grey Wind had tried to attack Ghost and thought nothing of having to tear though Jon to get to the other wolf.
“Did your brother train his hawk to do that?” asked Jon, dreading the answer.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: FILL: Stannis/Jon, Scars 3/4
Date: 2013-01-26 09:06 pm (UTC)There was silence.
“You have no idea what you’re asking.”
“What do you take me for, a boy who blushes when a comely girl looks his way?”
More silence followed.
“No, I take you for the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. But you’re still a boy in many ways.”
Jon wanted to shout back, “I killed the boy! I killed him, haven’t I proven that to you yet?” But he never got a chance to, for when he opened his mouth, Stannis grabbed his face with his two hands and tilted it upwards before roughly kissing him, forcing Jon to swallow his retort.
~
Later that night, when Jon was lying exhausted and spent next to Stannis on the king’s bed, he noticed a white scar on the man’s left shoulder. The scar was too jagged and wide to be caused by a knife or a sword, and it looked almost as if something had tried to bite him.
Mimicking Stannis’ touches earlier in the evening (for most all subsequent touches had been hard and desperate enough to leave bruises), Jon lightly traced the scar. When he could feel Stannis’ yes on him, he asked:
“Where was this scar from?”
“A hawk. Its owner didn’t care for me either, much like your eagle.” His voice was sad, a tone that Jon had heard him use only once before, when he lamented not keeping his Hand at his side.
“Did you kill the owner as well?”
“No, as much as I was sometimes tempted to. I would have taken his love instead.” Stannis let out a long sigh. “When I was a boy, I nursed an injured goshawk hack to health. The bird, Proudwing, became so fond of me that she would sit on my shoulder and fly after me around Storm’s End—but never properly hawk. Robert had a gyrfalcon that was as vicious and as deadly as they came. On day, when Poudwing was sitting on my shoulder, Thunderclap dived from out of nowhere in an attempted attack on my bird. I can still sometimes feel that damnable hawk’s talons and beak digging into my shoulder.”
Jon was slightly horrified at the tale. It was akin to if Grey Wind had tried to attack Ghost and thought nothing of having to tear though Jon to get to the other wolf.
“Did your brother train his hawk to do that?” asked Jon, dreading the answer.