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Something Worth Fighting For

Title: Something Worth Fighting For
Rating: PG-ish for kissy faces
Pairing: Ser Gilmore/Deidre Cousland
Words: 1,866
Note: this was supposed to be a quickie for the DA kink meme's prompt of "sweaty sparring match goes from teasing innuendos to sexytimes" but then it veered off to the side and turned into this.

“Move your feet; you stay in one spot for too long and your attacker is going to wind up getting you.”

Deidre pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I am moving my feet.” They’d been at this for over two hours now. Maker, why did she ask Rory to train her in hand to hand combat again? Because you think he’s absolutely handsome and you want to spend as much time as possible with him, that’s why, her brain happily supplied. Besides, hitting him only gives you an excuse to touch him, which you’ve been dying to do ever since you turned sixteen. She’d had a soft spot for her father’s best knight for years, and now that she was nearing the age of twenty, she finally had the nerve to try and act on her feelings.

“You’re not moving them fast enough,” he countered. For someone so tall and strongly built, he surely moved fast when he wanted to. One moment he was a few feet to her right and the next he was only a few inches away, his hand playfully tugging at her braid. “And keep your arms up; had I a knife, I could have slit your throat already.” Roland was glad that Deidre was taking an interest in self-defense. While he prided himself with the ability to keep those in the castle - especially the entire Cousland family - safe, he would rest easier knowing that she could defend herself should the need ever come up. And spending hours of time alone with her isn’t all that bad either, is it, Gilmore, he asked himself, dropping his hand from her hair a little slower than what was proper. He’d found in Deidre Cousland a fast companion; she laughed at his jokes, confided in him, and never once treated him as if he were lower in station than she, even though that was definitely the case. He might be the son of a minor lord, but she was the Teyrn’s daughter. She might be a friend, but ultimately, she was his charge to protect.

He just wished the he could have protected himself from falling in love with her. Deidre was only a few months younger than he and he had been enchanted by her long golden hair and flashing green eyes ever since he had been a boy of fifteen. She had an innate grace to her movements that made her perfect at carrying dual weapons, which he knew she excelled at. The trait should have translated even better to fighting with her bare fists, but for some reason it wasn’t. “I think I know what your problem is.”

“Oh?” she asked, watching as he began to circle her. “And what would that be?”

“You’re afraid to hit me. I know you know how to throw a punch; I’ve seen you hit your brother enough times to prove that. And I know you know how to move properly. I’ve watched you practice with your swords often enough.” He inwardly winced. That part didn’t come out the way that I had meant it to, he thought.

“I’m not afraid to hit you,” she countered, flushing at the thought that he had watched her practice. Her swordplay lessons were always later in the afternoons when the other knights weren’t using the training circle.

“Then prove it.” He stuck his chin out and pointed to the side of his face. “Hit me, right there.”

She made a fist, but then quickly relaxed her hand. “I…”

“Pretend that it isn’t me you’re fighting. I’m a horrible, scarred, ugly bandit out for your money.” He puffed up his chest and hunched his shoulders, making her laugh.

“You’re anything but ugly, Rory,” she murmured, her cheeks growing hot at her admission. Some unknown emotion flickered across his face, but he quickly hid it away before she could figure out what he was thinking.

“Then pretend I’m someone else out to steal your virtue.” He advanced on her, his stance set to attack. “Moving out of the way isn’t going to be enough to stop those types; you have to fight back.” He grabbed her hair and yanked hard, bringing her back flush to his chest, gritting his teeth at the way that she gasped. “Bite, hit, kick and scream. Do whatever you need to do to get away from them.” He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, but he ran his hands down her sides, his palms settling warmly at her hips. He let out a grunt when she pulled back her elbow and tagged him in the ribs, breaking out of his hold while he struggled to get his wind back. “Good! That’s what I’ve been talking about!” He bent in half to regain the air in his lungs, scowling when she stepped forward.

“Are you all right, Rory?” she asked, her hand touching his shoulder.

He lunged towards her. “Never approach an opponent when they’re down,” he instructed, watching as she darted out of his reach. “You never know when they could be faking it.” He struck out with his right fist, proud when she blocked his blow and countered with her own. He grinned; it seemed that all he had to do was get Deidre to stop thinking about who she was fighting and her training clicked over. He still wasn’t happy with the fact that she was retreating towards a wall, but at least she had stopped pulling her punches. The bruises that he was certain to get later on were going to be worth it.

She gasped again when her back hit the wall. Roland reached out and pinned her arms over her head, his hands easily circling her wrists. She tried to kick him, but he was already a step ahead of her, his thigh settling over hers. Both of them were breathing hard and at this close range, Deidre could really appreciate the way that his pupils were so dilated that his irises were only thin slivers of pale blue. She tried to jerk her arms out of his grasp, but all that did was make him hold on tighter to her wrists. “Get me to stop,” he said roughly, his breath making the hair that had escaped out of her braid flutter against her face. He licked his lips and tried to ignore the way that her eyes darted from his down to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. Pull back, Gilmore, he tried to order himself. Lesson’s over, just let go and… “Tell me to stop,” he repeated, this time a lot softer, his voice pleading. She looked up at his eyes and in that moment, his normally unreadable expression was laid bare for her. He’s too much of a gentleman to say anything, she realized. This moment might never come again. It will be up to you to make the next move. Realistically, she knew that she should tell him to stop, to move away. They’d end their sparring match for the day and then move on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened. And yet all the years of longing, all the times she had yearned to be this close to him reared up and screamed at her to throw caution to the wind. And now that she knew that he held feelings for her as well…

She couldn’t have stopped herself from stretching up and kissing him even if she had been held at knifepoint and ordered to do so. Roland remained as still as a statue for all of three seconds before making a noise at the back of his throat and tilting his head to deepen their kiss. His hands slid down her body until he could wrap his arms around her waist. She sighed against his lips and draped her arms over his shoulders, her fingers tangling in the sweat dampened hair at the back of his neck. Her mouth opened under his, her tongue tentatively darting out to run across his lower lip.

He shuddered at the touch, his hands clutching at the rough cotton of her practice shirt. “This is wrong,” he murmured, trying and failing to force himself to back away from her. “We shouldn’t –”

She silenced him with another kiss, this time her mouth moving more forcefully against his as if she were silently daring him to call this wrong again, her fingers tightening in his hair almost to the point of pain. “Don’t you dare say that,” she whispered fiercely. “Not when I know you want this as much as I do.”

He stepped away and raked a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” he told her. “You are the Teyrn’s daughter. You deserve much more than some soldier in your father’s army. You should be with a man who can give you lands, who can provide important ties for your family. You…”

She stalked towards him and it was his turn to retreat. “I’ve been courted by men like that. Do you know what I think of them?” She didn’t allow him to answer her. “They’re stuffy and boring and most importantly, they’re not you. I don’t love any of them.”

“And you love me?” He tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry.

“I do.” She stared up at him and her sudden rush of bravery died. “Yet this will be the last time I mention it if you tell me now that you don’t feel the same way.”

He stared down at her and the words, the right, proper words, died on his tongue. “I can’t.” Maker save me, for I am a fool…

“Can’t what? You can’t tell me that you feel the same way?” She bit her lip. I won’t cry. Not in front of him.

He reached out and trailed a finger down her cheek. “I can’t stop feeling the way I feel about you, no matter if it’s improper or not. I’ve loved you for years.”

She felt as if all the air in her lungs had escaped in one rush. “Now was that so hard?” she asked, leaning against his touch, feeling giddily happy to be standing in the dusty training circle with her knight.

He snorted. “This isn’t going to be simple, Dee,” he warned, wrapping his arms around her. He needed to touch her, to reassure himself that this was real and not just a product of his imagination. “This isn’t a love ballad; this is real and it’s going to be difficult.” Ever pragmatic, he could already picture their future – secretive embraces stolen in time while he stood by and watched as suitors were paraded in front of her. One day, she would be taken from him and he would be forced to see her marry another. He didn’t know if his heart could take that.

“The things most worthy of fighting for usually aren't simple,” Deidre replied. She stretched up and brushed her lips against his and for a brief, bright moment, he let go of his practical side. Whatever happens down the road, at least you have this time, this moment with her.

Comments

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
reconnoiterer
Dec. 14th, 2010 08:49 am (UTC)
Oh just nevermind me over here... wibbling...

This is exactly what I love about the Ser Gilmore/f!Cousland pairing - the back story, the build up... the secret embraces, the inevitable marriage to someone else. All right here! I absolutely love how capable you've made Rory - a perfect chivalrous knight, even when he's all scruffed up in the ring. Swoon!
iceprincessd
Dec. 15th, 2010 12:34 am (UTC)
I think that's what I like about this pairing too. *eyes AU notes*

Unfortunately, he's so darn chivalrous that he completely turned what was supposed to be nekkid sexytimes into "Let us proclaim our love and all that stuff." He thwarts all my attempts at giving him a smutty story!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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