A Walk on the Wild Side

Author's Note: I know a few of you follow me on LJ (if you don't, feel free to friend me!), and that you lot already saw this fic last week. But seeing as I'm writing a multi-chapter story based off of this which I will post both on here and LJ, I've decided to post the one-shot to FFN as well, so you all know where the idea stemmed from. Also, this edition is a bit revised from the LJ original.

I know the note below this one is long, but first-times, pleaseread it. It is quite important. Thank you.

Background/Story Note: I've been reading the A Song of Ice and Fire series literally non-stop for the past week or so… Therefore, I lay completely blame for this little fic on the author, George R.R. Martin. All the 'my lord's and 'ser's and 'milady's he puts into those books… *shakes head* I've become too entrenched in it all.

Anyway, I was trying to go to sleep last night (after reading A Feast For Crows for about two hours straight), and I couldn't get GRRM's writing style out of my head. Most of this dialogue from this just completely popped into my head then. Also, I'm a bit obsessed with the thought of Mark and Lexie expecting kids. So they're married in this, and she's a few months pregnant.

I have no idea when this is set, or where. If you haven't read or seen the Game of Thrones series, this will probably be even stranger to you, and make less sense, and I'm sorry for that. (There's an easy way to remedy that, though ;).) But just to give you an idea, it's like middle-ages-y, with lords and ladies and servants and knights and kings.

Please be kind if you review because I'm more than a little embarrassed of this.

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"Are you unwell?"

Her husband's familiar voice brought her back to her senses. Alexandra focused her eyes on him, blinking hard to clear her mind. "Hm?" She wondered politely.

"You haven't eaten anything," he replied, with a pointed look at her plate.

Alexandra's eyes fell and followed his. I haven't eaten anything, she realized, staring at it in surprise. Not one thing. They'd been seated for near a quarter of an hour, and she hadn't touched her plate in all that time. She wondered what was wrong with her, and then blushed upon remembering.

"Would you like me to get you something else, my dear?"

Alexandra shook her head, meeting his eyes across the dark wooden table between them. "No, thank you."

"Is your stomach upset?" He pressed. She could hear the concern in his voice.

She shook her head again, clearing her throat delicately this time to speak. "No," she replied. "I think…" She paused, waiting for the bile to rise in her throat as it had many mornings past. "I think that's passed, now."

A relieved smile flickered on his lips. "Good." He hoped she was right. He had not enjoyed it in the least, waking most mornings these past few weeks to her violent retching. He nodded towards her plate. "All the more reason for you to eat; to regain your strength."

Her lips parted in a mocking smile, revealing two rows of straight, white teeth. "I had not realized myself to be weak in the first place."

She saw a grin spread over his face just before he lifted his goblet to drink. He took a small sip, wondering how to reply, but his lips puckered at the taste almost immediately. The wine was much too sweet. He returned his goblet to its place, waved at a servant waiting in the corner of the room, and sent for water instead.

The time for a witty return had passed, so he simply stared at her, not unkindly, as their drinks were replaced.

"Yes?" She ventured, staring right back. He could hear a smile in her voice, though she was trying to hide it on her face.

"You look beautiful today," he said simply.

She looked away, but she slipped, and that happy smile spread over her lips. "You say that everyday," she replied, staring out the open doors to her right. They were over eight feet tall and near six week wide; usually they made a wall of solid oak among their neighboring stones. Today, though, they were flung aside, to let in the daylight and warm air, as well as the sounds and beauty of nature. Summer was upon the realm again, and everyone from the lowest peasant to the king was basking in it, and rejoicing at the change in season and the bounty it promised to bring.

Her eyes roamed over the descending steps and stone patio, seeking the seemingly never-ending expanse of lawns and sculpted gardens that laid past the stone. Pebbled pathways wound through perfectly cut bushes and blooming flowerbeds, past manicured laws still shining with dew, through orchards with trees laden down with near-overripe fruits.

"And I mean it everyday, as well."

Her lips flickered up again, recalling his previous statement and delighting at the addition. She took one last, long look before returning her eyes to the handsome man sitting across the small wooden table, one she was proud to call her husband. "Are you needed today, my lord?" She wondered politely.

"I'm needed everyday." His eyes sparkled a second later, and if he were seated nearer and they were alone in the room, she might've hit him for the suggestion he wasn't even trying to conceal in front of the ever-watching servants. "What need of me do you have?" His smirk widened. "You know you always come first, my love."

She tried not to read too far into his words, and tried not to smile too broadly at his endearments. "I know you have many tasks to attend to," she began, "but—"

"You know well that I shall set them all aside for you," he replied immediately. His interruption was firm and left no room for argument.

"That isn't necessary," she told him, though part of her wished it were. "I only… The summer is so beautiful, you see?" She gestured to the outside world with one hand. "Might you spare an hour or so? For a walk? I should like to enjoy the weather, before the rains come."

A warm smile bloomed on his face, as warm as the light breezes that blew in from the outside from time to time. "I should like to spare all my hours for you." He rose to his feet, walking to her half of the table and holding out his hand. "Does now suffice?"

She stood up as well, taking his hand automatically, "Yes, of course."

He glanced to her full plate briefly before holding out his arm for her to slip hers through. He looked her in the eye before they set off. "You'll eat when we return," he stated.

She nodded, slipping her arm out of his for a moment. She reached back, spearing a few slices of peaches off the edge of her plate with a silver fork. Her eyes closed momentarily at the taste as she deposited them in her mouth, and Alexandra almost let out an appreciative little moan escape her at the succulent juices. She hadn't tasted something so sweet in years. She was smiling when her eyes opened again, knowing her husband would be pleased of this craving more so that the others. He'd struggled through the last one, not fully willing to slaughter a still-growing sheep for his wife's fleeting craving for spiced mutton. (He'd done it anyway, of course, and let the servants feast on the leftovers that night when she'd taken no more than one bit before having to run to the privy and rid her body of the taste.) Alexandra felt that this craving would pass slower than the others, though. "Fruit," she requested, turning to the server by the door. I'll have fruit when I return."

"Yes, my lady."

"Are these peaches from our orchards?" Mark wondered, addressing the serving girl.

She nodded, keeping her eyes trained to the floor. "They are, my lord."

"Bring a basket of them, then." His eyes flickered out the open doors. "The branches look like they're about to snap under the weight, anyway."

"Straight away, my lord. It shall be ready when you return."

Alexandra smiled at the girl, murmuring a quiet, "Thank you," before slipping her arm back in her husband's again. Soon, they were out the doors and descending down the worn stone steps. Though she nearly felt like running in the warm, fragrant air, Alexandra held back. Instead, she matched her stride to her husband's, which was near enough like running from the difference in the lengths of the their legs that she was pleased with the outcome.

They were walking down one of the outer paths, headed for the orchards to retrieve a few peaches to enjoy on their walk, when Alexandra was pulled to a sudden stop. Before she could gather any notion of what had happened or what was happening, she felt his lips against hers and his hands cupping her cheeks. She would've recoiled from surprise, but as usually happened at instances such as these, she simply melted into him. Her lips fused to his and her hands moved to mimic his own, her fingers clutching at the trimmed-short beard that covered his cheeks

Finally, she managed to gather her senses and pull away. She could already feel a blush rising to her cheeks as his lips and hands lingered, even after she'd worked to separate them. She forced frown onto her face, though she wanted to do nothing but smile, and made her voice come out harsh and hard.

"Marcus…"

"What?" He smiled impishly, infectiously; luckily, Alexandra caught herself before she could smile back.

"You know very well what." It was not the first time he had surprised her with embraces such as this. In fact, ever since she admitted to the fact that she might be pregnant, few hours, if not minutes, passed between one occasion and the next. They were wonderful, of course—but only for that moment when their lips were joined. Only for that moment that they each felt like the only two in the entire world. In reality, of course, they were not. More often than not, they were surrounded by servants or guards. On one embarrassingly scarring encounter, in front of guests. Lexie nearly shivered at the memory; it still made her uncomfortable to dwell on, and caused a flush to rise up beneath her skin.

"Are you trying to imply, my dear, that I cannot kiss my own lady wife while on my very own property?"

She blushed again. "Of course not, yet..." She turned her head, her eyes roaming over the many servants tending the gardens and the fields.

"Believe it or not," he murmured, watching her, "our household is aware of our marriage."

She blushed, turning back to him. "I know that, Marcus."

He lowered his voice. "Most, if not all, know of your condition as well, though they will not say so you ask them."

She smiled, lifting a hand to shade her eyes from the bright sun as she looked up at him. "So you've been interrogating them, have you?"

"I like my people to be honest," he replied.

"They are honest."

"No, they're polite."

A small laugh escaped her. "And you would prefer them rude, is that the way of it? Shall we hire only workers with horrid recommendations?"

"I like my people to be honest," he repeated, taking her arm again and leading the way down the path. She smiled again, holding back another laugh, but didn't comment. Politeness was more than enough for her, given the certain circumstances. She didn't want the kitchen maids and cupbearers making wagers over her condition; when it began was no concern of theirs. They may gossip about her and her lord husband all they like in whispers while she and he were out of hearing; public courtesy was all that mattered to her, now more than ever.

They arrived at the orchard in mere minutes. The peach trees were in the very back. A boy gathering the basket to be ready at their return was happy to help, and offered them the choicest ones he could find. He had a knife on hand as well, and removed the cores from the fruits and cut them slices before returning to his work.

"Have you given any more thought of what to name the babe?"

Alexandra's eyes went wide, and she nearly choked on her last morsel of that sweet, delicious peach as they were walking away from the orchard. "Mark," she chided when she had breath and had composed herself. "It has not been more than a moon's turn since..." She glanced over her shoulder, still wary of eavesdroppers and the way her private words loosen their tongues.

Her husband's hand wandering to her middle soon recaptured her attention. "Since you learned you were carrying my child in you?" He wondered softly, staring into her eyes. Alexandra couldn't help it. Her heart went to fluttering from his words and those familiar coals set to burning hot in her belly just at the sight of him. She felt a blush creep up her pale neck and spread over her porcelain cheeks, recalling just how afire her body had been, late at night, not seven days prior when they'd began talking about their future child. She recalled how he'd satisfied her, again and again and again. How could she forget? She sighed slowly to calm herself, body and mind. There was something about him that always seemed to drive every part of her wild, even after near two years together, and it was always at moments she least suspected or desired.

"I have not given it any more thought, no," she answered finally, hoping he couldn't hear the lie in her words. Since the moment the idea had entered her mind nearly a month ago that she might be pregnant with his child, she had thought of naught else. She kept a running list of names in her mind, even though she knew she was inviting ill fortune on the matter for her to dwell on it.

"I have thought on it," her husband announced, drawing her back to their walk with a gentle hand on her side.

Alexandra fought to hide a smile and quash her hysterical delight deep down inside at his admission. She attempted to distract herself by stretching her legs with his. "You have?" She inquired politely after a moment.

He nodded, slowly and surely. "I have."

"And?" She looked over at him for an answer, but he merely stated ahead, an amused smirk playing on the edges of his mouth. She forced herself not to scowl. "Don't tell me you've only thought of amusing names," she complained lightly. "We must assign the baby a real name."

He turned to appraise her as they walked, and though his expression was serious, she could see the mirth hiding beneath the polite surface. "Why would you think I would not contemplate real names, as you call them? Why would you think I do everything I do simply to amuse myself?"

Alexandra couldn't help but smile. "I think those things because you're my husband and I know you," she replied immediately.

He laughed at that, and drew her closer. She neither complained nor moved further away; they were back by the far woods by now, with few eyes on them save for those that belonged to the birds and the bees. Gradually, they slowed their walk until they were no longer walking at all. He moved to stand before her, and took her small hands in his. She smiled, looking up at him. He met her eyes, and all the laughter was gone from his eyes now. Its replacement was not seriousness, as he'd tried for before, but something much more meaningful and worthwhile. He stared down at her in pure adoration, and she knew if she were farther along, the child would be kicking mad inside her, keeping time with her galloping heartbeat.

He lowered himself to her slowly, brushing his lips against hers as if trying to mimic their first kiss all over again. It made her smile, and soon her hands were at his sides. They rose quickly, though: to his shoulders, his neck… As if by instinct, they buried themselves deep into his silvery-grey hair, and tugged on it to keep his lips close.

She could feel him smile against her mouth before he drew back. He leaned forward, letting his forehead touch hers. "I love you."

He whispered it. He kept it quiet and hushed, like a secret. Which he liked to pretend it was. In all the time she'd spent with him, the years they'd been married… Alexandra had not one memory of him professing his feelings for her publicly, where anyone's ears could hear. It was always private, it was always guarded… As if someone might seize the opportunity to steal that happiness and love if it was commonly known.

While others might take offense at this, Alexandra simply basked in it, for she knew how he meant it. His love, his quiet words, lit her up, sometimes even lit her afire, and would always bring that look into her eyes. That look of complete love that he knew she hid from all but him.

"I love you too."

His lips twitched up at her words, and he bent forward again, to brush her lips with his. His hands framed her face and drew her close, and on that secluded path near the edge of their property, they were both reminded again why they were where they were. Why she was pregnant, why he was expecting an heir.

It was she who pulled back this time; she did so slowly, though, for she obviously wanted more. He loved to boast of having never denied her a thing, but it was clear that this want might break him. But then he smiled; he couldn't break his streak just yet, could he?

"You seem tired," he noted. His voice was somewhere between caring and husky, and it made tingles run up her spine. "Would you like to lie here in the grass, my lady, or retire to bed?"

Alexandra bit down on her lower lip, casting her eyes down the way they'd come so as not to glare at him. Why must he tease me so? Just from those few kisses and tender words, she could feel the desire stirring up in her again. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, contemplating his offer. The easy answer would be to say the latter. That was the answer anyone would give, if they gave an answer at all. She blinked, staring down that path again, and remembering each twist and turn, how long and winding it had been, how many minutes it would take the two to get home…

"I should like to lie here, I believe."

Alexandra turned back just in time to see her husband's eyes widen momentarily in surprise. She smiled. It was not often she was able to catch him off guard, nor give in to his challenges… Whilst satisfying herself all the while.

"Truly?" He wondered when he'd gathered himself a bit. "Here?"

She looked at him with pure innocence, even as her belly continued to round from his seed. He never understood how she could do that—be so innocent and seductive simultaneously. It should be impossible. It should be illegal. It was heaven. "Was it not an honest suggestion?" She inquired, her eyebrows raised in polite expectation.

"Of course," he replied immediately. "I simply thought…"

"You thought your wife did not have the wilderness in her anymore," Alexandra replied, abandoning the path they'd been travelling and making her way across the soft, warm green grass. She looked over her shoulder, catching his eye with mischief in hers. She lifted her hands to her front, and without a moment's hesitation, began to undo the laces of her dress. "But yet she does have some left, it seems."

Mark fought to hide a smile, which quickly grew to a grin. He glanced over his shoulder, but upon seeing no servants or workers anywhere near, quickly followed her into the grass, pulling her down atop him as she shrieked in laughter.

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The old man sighed, staking a handwritten sign in the middle of the pebbled path, just mere yards from the edge of the orchards, warning no servants to pass by. He felt a presence beside him as he stood up. Turning, he saw the head cook, Wenda, standing beside him, arms crossed over her buxom chest. She glared at the sign and then the path and woods beyond. She knew as well as anyone what this all meant.

"I was going to ask if my lady wanted me to make some peach cobbler with all dem peaches the boy pulled down…"

The old man sighed again, heading back to trim the trees as he was before the loud, moaning interruption moments ago. "Might as well remove the path by the woods," he grumbled, "for all the walking it gets."

The boy picking peaches a few feet away grinned. "Oh, you wouldn't be so cruel, Lyle." He smirked, tossing a peach in his palm, catching it, and then taking a bite. "What excuse would they have to go off by the woods alone, then?" He asked through a mouthful of fruit. "Methinks those moans and screams would scare the horses away into a right gallop if they thought to ride instead of walk. Good thing they don't go making twins in the stables, now that I think on it. We'd have a stampede on our hands!"

His genial laughter soon turned to cried of pain as Wenda smacked him upside the head with one of her strong, meaty hands. "You watch yourself, boy."

But the boy only grinned again, reaching back to rub his head. He didn't want to show how much the blow had hurt, but there was a reason the kitchen maids and servers alike feared the wrath of their head cook. "Just 'cause I can hear 'em don't mean they can hear me."

"I can hear you," Wenda replied, and that's enough. She shooed him. "Back to the kitchen with ye, I've got cobbler to make."

The boy scampered off without another word, and Wenda said words of farewell to the orchard-keeper before following behind the boy, albeit at a much slower pace. Lyle worked in silence for a long while, tending to each tree in turn, before hearing another pair of feet crunch of the gravel. Thinking it a servant, he was about to shout out, yet he was pleased he did not.

"Hullo, milord!" He called instead, waving an arm from one of the trees to announce his presence.

The man immediately smiled, having met the orchard-keep on more than one occasion in the past. "Hello, Mr. Humphrey. How are you today?"

Lyle straightened his clothes, moving away from the trees to stand in the grass by the edge of the path. "Very good, my Lord Shepherd, sir, and yourself?"

"The same." Derek smiled, before glancing down the path and frowning at the sign blocking his way.

Lyle scratched his ears, his eyes shooting between the two. "Milord was looking for Lord Sloan and Lady Alexandra, I expect?"

"I was, yes," Derek replied. "I inquired with a few kitchen maids I happened upon, and they told me between fits of giggles that the two went for a walk."

Lyle nodded. "They did, milord." He pointed towards the woods. "That way."

Derek bent down and inspected the sign. "And yet there is a message here that tells me to go no further."

Lyle nodded again, focusing on the trees. "That would be in your best interest, I believe, milord. If I may be so as bold as to say."

Derek gazed off into the woods as the path bent, hiding the gravel in their greenery. Eventually, he sighed, defeated. "They're at it again, then?"

Lyle almost smiled. He'd been so stricken by fear the first time Lord Shepherd had visited at a time like this, his tongue had tied itself together and he'd stuttered through a vague yet still embarrassing explanation. He'd almost had to physically restrain the man, but luckily his wife had seemed to catch on quick and led him away. But now they were both old hands at the craft, though not intentionally. "Afraid so, milord," Lyle replied. "Might be you could come back to call another time?"

Derek drew a breath. "No, I think I'll wait. Let's hope I came near the end this time." He lowered himself into a seat in the grass. He squinted as he looked up at the man. "What are you harvesting there?"

"Peaches, milord," Lyle replied cheerfully, happy to be moving onto a less invasive topic. "Milady had a craving for them earlier."

"Not the only one, it would seem," Derek muttered under his breath.

Lyle struggled not to smile, barely succeeded, and continued as if he hadn't heard the man's snide comment. "She did not touch her breakfast, save for a bite of peach. She declared it so delicious, milord ordered a basket to be taken down for her."

Derek smiled. "You must be proud."

"They are right fine peaches, milord. If I do say so meself."

Conversation fell to a lull after that. Derek spent his time splitting hairs of grass and glancing at his timepiece. How long are they going to take? He thought time after time, and nearly said aloud. Courtesy stopped him, if it was indeed that. More than once, he debated getting to his feet and simply interrupting—but he remembered how horrible it was to be interrupted at intimate times, and he held back.

It was close to half an hour before Mark and Alexandra emerged from their hideaway in the woods. Lyle quickly snatched the sign away and went back to his work before they approached. Derek watched them from the side, smirking as his sister-in-law attempted to right the damage to her perfectly coiffed hair. He knew it wouldn't be only the kitchen maids giggling about what had transpired once they got back to the manor. Her hair would need to be completely redone, he was sure of it. And there was only one thing that mussed a noblewoman's hair in the middle of the day.

"My dear," Derek called when they were close enough, "you look absolutely flushed. Did your walk prove to be an exertion?"

Alexandra's already-rosy cheeks immediately flamed two shades brighter, and her eyes flew to her husband as they all slowed to a halt to greet each other.

"Shepherd." He spoke firmly.

Derek turned to his boyhood friend. "Ah, Mark." He smiled as if nothing were amiss. His eyes narrowed at his friend's neck, at a spot just below his hear. Four spots, actually. Bright red, damning imprints of a woman's fingernails. He wondered where else his sister-in-law had left marks on his friend. "What sort of animal got at your neck?" He wondered aloud, secretly relishing at making Mark's expression grow stormy. He could swear the scratch glowed even redder then. Derek bit back a grin. "You should have a hunt, maybe we can flush out this would-be tigress."

He thought Lexie might faint from all the blood rushing to her face, but Mark proved oddly adept at handling such a situation. Derek assumed he'd had much practice, considering how familiar Lyle seemed to be with their routines.

"I think I'll leave her for a while," Mark replied. Derek watched as his friend's eyes, ever so subtly, met his wife's. "I enjoy a walk on the wild side, now and again."

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A/N: Am I the only one that just adores Mark calling Lexie Alexandra? This setting gave me the perfect excuse :) Please fill out the box below and leave me a review, if you would be so kind!

I'm unsure as to when I'm going to start publishing the story, but it will hopefully be sometime soon. Please tell me in a review if you'd be interested in seeing this story from the beginning!

Thank you for reading and please review!