For drinkupmehearties

[shieldofrohan]

The door to Jack's cell opens just before dawn. Éowyn stands there, dressed for riding - breeches under her gown, her hair braided back close to her scalp - and looks at him for a moment, hand on hip, before beckoning for his things to be brought. His sword will be given back to him: his gun will not. She knows, after all, that if it comes to a fight with swords, she is a more than equal match for him, but her experiences in the Capitol have let her know just how dangerous a gun can be in the wrong hands.

Outside, the horses are waiting. She has chosen a mare for him, docile and easy to ride, with a high saddle that should be easy to stay in. Even with their experience in the Arena, she's loath to trust his riding. There's a big difference between staying in the saddle for an hour or so with adrenaline pumping through your veins, and staying in the saddle for the long day's ride that lies ahead of them.

Her own horse, of course, gives her no such worries. The grey stallion has borne her well since the Pelennor Fields, and she's more comfortable in his saddle than she could ever be with both feet on the ground. As they head out into the courtyard, he raises his head and whickers at her, making her smile.

Faramir stands beside the horses, though he is not dressed for travel. As she approaches, he goes to meet her, ignoring Jack for the moment as he ducks his head to kiss her. "You are sure of this?"

"I am sure," she answers, with a fond smile, and leans up to kiss him in return. "Do not linger here too long, love. Emyn Arnen is not nearly so fair without you in it."

He laughs, low in his throat, and traces his fingertips over her cheek. "How can it be made fairer by my presence, when you are already there to illuminate it?" Straightening up with a kiss to her forehead, he smiles. "I will be a few days, no more. Travel well, my lady. And for my sake, if you should see an enemy, ride away, and not towards them."

Éowyn smiles, shaking her head, and pulls away. "Jack, do you need help mounting, or can you manage?"

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[shieldofrohan]

"Bad enough to have lied to him once." Her voice is low, hushed and throaty. Every instinct is tugging her in: kiss him, touch him, fuck him. It makes it hard to think, harder still to hold on to that thin thread of conscience. She always was a creature of instinct. She bites down hard on her lip, and the sharp pain of it helps her to focus, if only a little. "I love him, Jack. I cannot go on this way... betraying him, lying to him. I fear I will destroy him, and I... I..."

She swallows, hard, closing her eyes. Maybe if she isn't looking at him... But she can still feel his hand on her thigh, his breath against her skin, her body's reaction to him. She can't ignore that, no matter how she tries.

"...I want you," she says at last, barely even a whisper. "Tonight, right now, I want you so much it hurts. But I love him, and that is not only for a night, Jack. Tell me you understand, please."

[drinkupmehearties]

"An' I want you, Eowyn." His voice is low, husky, and the shameless yearning to just roll her over onto her back and fuck her is palpable in his tone. It takes some great willpower, then, but Jack withdraws the hand from her thigh, instead brushing a strand of her hair away from her cheek. He doesn't want to understand, of course, he'd much rather relinquish to impulse, instinct, to an urging that's almost painful to refuse.

But he does, even if such devotion wasn't something he could relate to much; he's loved women in the past, certainly, but investing himself like that to any singular one was too terrifying, too foreign for him to actually care to attempt.

Another exhale, slower, then Jack lets his hand fall away. The corner of his mouth perks some. "Aye, o' course. I understand, luv."

[shieldofrohan]

"Thank you." She swallows, looking down at herself, and bites her lip again. "I should... I should go." Should get up and go back to her own bed, where neither of them will be so tempted, where she won't give in.

But the thought of going back to that cold, empty bed is unbearable, and she doesn't move to leave. Even with that aching want that she can't satisfy, even with her desire feeling so strong it might drive her mad, this feels safer - to be with someone, to have some protection against the long watches of the night. Faramir, she thinks, as hard as she can, Faramir will return soon, and all will be well.

But soon is yet days away, and she quails at the thought of another night, another hour spent in lonely darkness. She always thought that she was strong, but she feels weak now, weak and foolish and afraid. And she knows, to her own disgust, that this is inevitable - if not this night, then the next, or the one after. She isn't strong enough to hold out against this want for long.

She's quiet for a long moment, then she shifts, curling up against Jack's side and sighing. She looks close to tears again. "Hold me," she says, a little thickly. "Nothing more. Only... hold me."

[drinkupmehearties]

He is fairly quiet in turn, letting her sort out for herself what she wants to do. When she curls into him, however, Jack obligingly wraps his other arm around her and draws her close to himself. He rests his cheek atop her head in the meanwhile, listening idly the rhythm of their breathing for a few long moments.

Eventually, Jack pulls an arm away to tug the blanket away and make space for her to slip underneath. "Come beneath the covers, luv. It'll be warmer." And then, after a short pause, "Would you care to listen to a story? Mayhaps it'd help to occupy your mind."

[shieldofrohan]

She hesitates a moment more, then nods, sliding between the sheets. It's a bad idea, putting herself so close to him, without the blanket between them, when he desire, at least, hasn't much ebbed. But, well, this has been a night full of bad ideas, and at least this one is a comfort. He is a comfort.

She shifts up against him again, pulling the covers back up over herself, and rests her head against his chest. "I should like that," she murmurs, with a little nod.

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack settles beneath the covers with her, wrapping an arm around Eowyn's waist and bundling her warmly against him. It's hard not to do much more than that, so hard to lay next to her and not to let his hand or mind wander. But Jack manages, surprisingly steady, mulling over what stories could distract her troubled mind (and occupy his own thoughts, if he were to be completely honest).

"When I was younger, in me twenties or thereabouts, there were a band o' rogues that refused to keep to the Code." Even if Jack hasn't probably told her much about the Code, or how his father enforced those laws with an iron fist, his tone suggests that such a crime was unheard of at the time. "And we'd had good reason to suspect Borya, Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea..."

[shieldofrohan]

She listens, fascinated, and for the moment can forget her fears - even if, at the back of her mind, that awareness lurks of his warmth and closeness and how easy it would be to just let things happen, the way they both want. Those thoughts are harder to put aside, but not impossible. She closes her eyes and lets herself concentrate on his words instead of on him: on those foreign names and places, on the tale he's telling.

She won't interrupt until he's done, but lies there in rapt concentration, just listening. After a while, as she relaxes more and more, her breathing starts to slow and level out. She's not asleep, not yet, but she's close.