#narnia fanfic
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cardigan — [e.pevensie]
wordcount: 1.5K
warnings: not technically x reader as ‘reader’ is named Belle
requested: no
“She won’t stop staring.”
“Then stop looking.”
Belle has to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous Telmarine soldiers. They’re both clearly terrified of their mission, and are both riddled with anxiety about the entire thing. Which is hilarious.
“You could just let me go,” she says nonchalantly. “Save yourself the risk of aggravating the woods’ spirits.”
The Telmarine facing her gives her a glare. His grip on the sword across his lap tightens.
Belle decides to shut up.
“Here will do,” the other soldier says, the oars in his hands slowing. “Let's just dump her and get it over with.”
The soldiers get to their feet unsteadily. The boat rocks, and Belle wonders what would happen if she tried to tip all three of them into the water. But before she can come up with a good way to execute that plan, the Telmarine snatches her up, grabbing her roughly by the arm.
“Drop them!” An unfamiliar female voice rings out, and stories of ghosts in the woods run through Belle’s mind. She half turns, and just has time to see four figures on the shore before she’s dropped, literally, into the cold water.
Bubbles surround Belle, and she’s disoriented instantly. Her bound wrists make it impossible to swim, so she sinks, struggling furiously to get loose. Her dress is heavy and sticking to her legs. Her chest is tightening, and black is crawling at the edges of her vision.
Then, something pulls at her, arms slide around her waist, and she is yanked out of the water. Belle gasps, practically drinking the air.
She’s pulled to shore, and laid down on the sand. Something cuts the ropes from her hands. She coughs for a second, getting her bearings back. Drowning was a very awful experience. Belle did not recommend it at all.
“Are you alright?” A girl’s voice asks her, a different one from before, younger.
Belle reacts, twisting as she rises, her dagger, which was previously concealed in her skirts, at the young girl’s throat within seconds.
Shouting erupts from behind them, and Belle glanced to see three others, two boys and an older girl, all with weapons at the ready. The girl has an arrow aimed at Belle’s heart, and both boys have their swords raised.
“Drop it,” the older boy tells her, and his voice is hard and commanding, like he’s used to giving orders.
The girl at Belle’s side doesn’t look particularly scared. “It’s okay,” she promises. “We’re friends.”
Belle narrows her eyes. “How would I know that?”
“Well,” the older girl says, “we did just save your life.”
“Actually, that was me.” It’s the younger boy this time. Belle focuses on him. He has dark hair that’s slightly curly and wet. He looks about her age, and his clothes are wet too. “Don’t worry,” he says to Belle. “We are friends. We won’t hurt you. Just please let Lucy go?”
Belle takes a step back from Lucy, still watching them all carefully. “Fine. Thanks for saving me. Bye.” She turns, but doesn’t even make it three steps before the older boy calls after her.
“Wait!”
She sighs, and looks at them.
“We don’t even know your name.” The older girl has her bow away now, but her eyes look plenty vicious enough for Belle. She doesn’t trust them; any of them.
“I’m Belle,” she says flatly. “Now can I go?”
“Why were they trying to drown you?” Lucy looks up at Belle, and her childlike innocence warms Belle’s heart. She has pretty eyes, too, Belle thinks, full of bravery and fearlessness and determination.
“Because I ran away from the castle where I was, well, a servant of sorts. Because I’m on the side of the true king. And because Miraz is a tyrant,” Belle says.
“Whoa Miraz?” the older boy asks.
Belle raises an eyebrow. “Where have you been living lately? Under a rock? He’s the sort of King? Of Narnia?”
“Narnia?” Lucy gasps. “So it is Narnia!”
Belle frowns. “Uh. Yes. This is Narnia. I’m confused.”
The four all exchange looks. “We’ll tell you,” the older girl tells Belle. “But you have to tell us your story first.”
Belle shrugs. “Whatever.”
Soon enough, the five of them are seated around a campfire. The sun is going down, and Belle’s still-wet dress is chilling her to the core. She doesn’t say anything about it, though.
“So,” she starts, accepting a toasted apple from Lucy. “I’m a handmaid in Miraz’s palace. He’s the brother of the king, but he’s basically put himself in the role of king ever since King Caspian the Ninth died. His son, Caspian the Tenth, should be king, but Miraz doesn’t want that. He wants the throne to himself, you see. Anyways, I’m on the side of Caspian and the old Narnians, so I helped him escape a few nights ago. Miraz’s wife had a baby boy, so he wants to kill Caspian and make himself the king, now that he has an heir.”
Belle takes a bite of the apple, and it’s surprisingly good. “I was going to be executed because they somehow found out I helped Caspian.”
“Yikes,” the younger boy says, throwing his apple core into the flames. “Cool story.”
The older girl is watching Belle. “So what’s your plan now?” she asks.
Belle shrugs. “Go into the woods. Find Caspian and help him to get his throne back, I guess. We were always really close at the palace, since I grew up there and we’re not too far apart in age.”
The emotions in her voice must have been more obvious than she thought, because Lucy shuffles over to sit beside her, their shoulders touching. Belle gives the girl a soft smile, before she glanced up at the other three.
“So?” she says. “What’s your story?”
The older two exchange a glance. “We’re the kings and queens of old,” the older boy says. “I’m High King Peter, the Magnificent.”
Belle isn’t even that shocked. She’s kind of guessed it by now, even though it was impossible. “You know you guys should be about 1200 years old now, right?”
The younger boy chuckles. “I’m Edmund.”
Belle nods her head at him. “I figured. And you must be Queen Susan?” She glances at the older girl. Susan smiles gently.
“Just Susan is fine.”
Belle salutes. “Whatever you say, Just Susan.”
Edmund laughs again, but tries to hide it with a cough.
Belle stands, shaking her heavy skirts as best she can. It’s an awful material, still holding most of the water from earlier in its skirts. She lets out an angry sigh.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks.
“Oh, it’s my dress,” Belle sighs, sitting back down. “They didn’t let me change for the execution and I was doing heavy cleaning this morning. It’s a really terrible dress to wear while it’s wet.”
Lucy looks at Edmund. “Do we still have our school things?” she asked excitedly.
Edmund nods, slowly at first but then he seems to get the idea. “I’ll get them.” He hurries over to the rowboat, which now has a small pile of their things next to it. He brings back over a white shirt and black pants, as well as a strange black skirt.
“Here,” he hands them to Belle. “Sorry—they’re mostly boy’s things but you look about my size and Susan ruined her shirt earlier. But there’s my shirt and pants and Su’s skirt if you'd rather that.”
Belle offers him a smile. “Thank you, King Edmund.”
“No need to call me King,” he says back, as he lays himself back onto the sand. His black hair is messy and reflects the fire’s flickering light.
“I’m just going to go get changed in the tree line,” Belle tells the group. “If I ain’t back in five, panic.”
The others grin as she heads off, the clothes bundled in her arms. Behind a tree, she pulls her dress off over her head, depositing it in a bush. She then peels off her petticoats and corset, leaving only her thin under-bodice and under-shorts on. Belle then tried on Edmund’s shirt, which fits surprisingly well. It’s an odd kind of shirt though, a lot stiffer than ones she’s used to mending. She buttons it up, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows and leaving the top two buttons undone. Now that she isn’t wet, it’s a pretty warm night.
Belle decides to wear the skirt, as she is shorter than Edmund and doesn’t want to wear his pants if they’ll be too long. They’d just be a tripping hazard. She instead pulls on Susan’s skirt, buttoning it up on the side. It’s also very strange, but comfortable, and very freeing and easy to move in. It stops just above her knee. Belle runs her hands through her hair, which has long since come undone and is tangled and knotted due to the water.
Feeling somewhat presentable, Belle scoops up the clothes from the ground and heads back to the fire.
Edmund’s eyes are on her at once, and she isn’t sure if the heat in her cheeks is from him or the fire.
“Oh—“ Edmund stutters a little. “That… you look good in those.”
Belle smiles, a little triumphant. “They’re quite comfortable. Thank you, Edmund.”
“Anytime,” he replies softly. “Anytime.”
#edmund pevensie#narnia#the chronicles of narnia#edmund pevensie fanfic#edmund pevensie x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#narnia fanfic#susan pevensie#peter pevensie#lucy pevensie
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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
a/n: I think this might be one of my favourite headcanons that I’ve written, especially for Narnia...
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ
SFW🌿
⭑ “Free-spirited, artistic, and somewhat aloof,” Aslan had named the three words that described you. Lucy wanted to know what the new seamstress was like, since you would be around them a lot.
⭑ The young queen was puzzled by these words, not because she didn’t understand their meaning, but because their old seamstress was just that ... old.
⭑ “Doesn’t seem like she’d make a very good seamstress then,” Susan retorted. Shuffling papers together.
⭑ Aslan gave a short chuckle and strode out of the council chamber, Lucy on his heels.
⭑ “Just give her a chance,” he stated to no one in particular.
⭑ And they had. The Pevensie siblings had their reservations, since they had grown accustomed to their old seamstress of many years, but they were open to you.
⭑ You put Susan’s teeth on edge for the first few weeks. Her constant worries were met with your smiles and nods.
⭑ But you never left their clothes too late, or too loose or too tight.
⭑ You were a brilliant seamstress - one that could create beautiful clothes from nothing but a curtain and some rope.
⭑ Peter liked you -
⭑ So did Lucy
⭑ They both admired your creative and out-of-the-box nature. Which was saying something because you did grow up in a land with dwarfs and talking animals.
⭑ And because the Pevensie’s were the only humans in Narnia, your lineage was confusing.
⭑ “So, you’re not a human woman...” Lucy had said one sunny afternoon. “But you’re not a faun or dwarf and you definitely don’t have a tail..” You both laughed at that
⭑ “No, not that I’ve noticed,” you replied heartily
⭑ It was difficult to explain, but you were part fairy. A fae-human hybrid that could enter people’s dreams, stop aging and with great effort - fly. (Click here if you want to know more, I had no idea how many creatures actually lived in Narnia...)
⭑ Edmund was ... wary of you. His actions with the White Witch still clouded his mind and his guilt felt heavy.
⭑ But you didn’t hold it against him.
⭑ No one can be all good, and live without mistakes. There would be no point in living if we were all perfect.
⭑ And so, being around you was like he could breathe again.
⭑ You took his worries, anxieties, and self-hatred and blew it away. As if your very being was magic (and it was.)
⭑ Edmund told you about his nightmares, and how the White Witch still haunted him. Even though years and years had passed by.
⭑ You perked up even more - because that was one of your talents. You could enter people’s dream state and alter their nightmares/dreams.
⭑ And that night ... you did -
⭑ It was the first night in years that he had a full nights sleep. He did not wake up once.
⭑ The first thing he did when he woke the next morning was run to you. Already in your work room, hunched over a spinning wheel and humming to yourself. You glittered in the sunlight, and Edmund was struck with such a new feeling. ‘Love,’ he thought, ‘this must be what it feels like.’
⭑ He didn’t enter the room, but rather turned around, and went to find Lucy.
⭑ Edmund explained his feelings and wanted her opinion on what to do next. Since she spent the most time with you.
⭑ The romance that Edmund was showing you made your heart soar. Not many people... or creatures, had shown you attention like this.
⭑ And a king?
⭑ Well... what person wouldn’t want this attention ...
⭑ And since the politics of marrying weren’t so harsh on Edmund - Lucy defended her brother and you. She was the biggest advocate for your relationship.
⭑ “Wouldn’t it be a positive for the Narnians to see one of them on the throne? Next to a King?” Her point was extremely valid. And although Susan could argue - the fact was ... she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to argue against her brother. Or against you.
⭑ Susan could see the good you brought him - the light that shone in his eyes now.
⭑ So you married.
⭑ And it was one of the happiest days of your life.
⭑ Your days were still filled with work -
⭑ You didn’t want to give up your position as a seamstress
⭑ So you were now ... the royal seamstress? Queen of the seamstresses?
⭑ Anywho - you were still creating for the Kings and Queens of Narnia. Your family.
⭑ You moved into Edmund’s chambers and it was ... awkward at first. Well, he was awkward. You just watched as he showed you around the chamber (because it was quite large.)
⭑ An ensuite, a large oak desk with a chair to match, a four-poster bed, marble floor to ceiling. It was all so elaborate.
⭑ He showed you where you could have your stuff, but began moving his - because he instantly felt bad that he had made that decision for you.
“Actually, I’ll just move my stuff. You choose!”
⭑ Your heart swelled. He cared so much about you
⭑ Ed sleeps closest to the door (so that if there’s a threat he can protect you)
⭑ He wakes up first, and gazes at you adoringly for hours
“Ed...”
“Yeah?”
“You’re doing it again.”
“Sorry, you’re just...so pretty...”
⭑ Helping each other get ready in the mornings and nights.
⭑ He never has nightmares again, even though you don’t use your powers. It’s because of your union, AND your proximity when sleeping.
⭑ Lucy will burst into the room some mornings, waking both you and Ed. She leaps onto your bed and snuggles in between you two.
⭑ Relationship Tropes:
✧ Off the Walls Eccentric (You) x Emotional Wall with 1 Weakness (Ed)
✧ Tough on the Outside, Soft on the Inside (Ed) x The Top (You)
✧ Aggressively Supportive
#king edmund the just#edmund pevensie#the chronicles of narnia#narnia x reader#narnia x you#narnia#narnia moodboard#edmund pevensie x reader#edmund pevensie x you#edmund pevensue headcanons#headcanons#witchthewriter#reader inesrt#fanfiction#narnia fanfic
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His Heart in Your Hands
Hi everyone! Today, we’re answering a request for my 6k event made by @jackys-stuff-blog for our dear King Caspian: “*Yikes* I need to be fast uhm... Okay, congratulations on 6k followers again, you deserve it 😊 Can I request something for king caspian with this prompt Wounded character leads to confession. Where he comes back from a journey and the reader is patches him up (she is working in the Castle) Please? Thank you 😌🥺❤️🫂 I hope it's okay like that Oh, only if you have some places for requests left”
Thank you so much for your request! I hope you like this!
Hope you all like this, tell me what you think!
****
Pairing: King Caspian x reader
Warnings: angst, mentions of blood and description of a wound, violence… our baby’s fighting!
Summary: Caspian comes back to Cair Paravel alive after a campaign against a neighbouring kingdom, but he’s still in a pretty bad shape. You’ve been worried sick about him, and even if you are but a servant, even if it’s not your place… you can’t help but look for him that night, just to make sure that he’s alright.
Word Count: 2950
Caspian’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist
You knew that you shouldn’t be there, and yet, you couldn’t help your feet as they crossed the castle.
You were but a servant, after all, you ought to remain where you belonged. Which was anywhere but near the King. And yet…
… yet there you were, in front of the door of his private chamber, with some water and some clothes and bandages in your hands.
You had managed to convince your colleague to let you go in her stead; to have an excuse to offer the guards to let you pass and access the King’s private chambers. And she disapproved of your feelings towards the leader of your people, but she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand that you knew him. That you had spent long evenings with him, when you should have been cleaning and he should have been resting; talking, laughing, falling in love, one dreadful and yet irrevocable step at a time. A love that you had never confessed, knowing that he would not feel the same, knowing that this was impossible.
There had been rumours spreading while he was gone, talks of a terrible injury, the kind that could be lethal. Talks of his death, even. Of Caspian being hit by the sharp edge of a blade across the chest, of his blood staining the grass and making the cold ground fume. Of his eyes closing forever, of a last breath being drawn… And you refused to believe it. Even when people started to guess the name of the next King, you refused to give in. Something inside you knew that he was still out there, alive and breathing and that he would come home, eventually. Your friends called it delusion, denial. You preferred to call it instinct.
Still, when you had seen him, along with a large crowd gathered by the doors of Cair Paravel to welcome him back, you were worried. Everybody was. If he was smiling, Caspian was paler than you had ever seen him, his arm wrapped in a bandage, pain written all over his features despite his best efforts to hide it. Instead of the traditional banquet, the King had retired to his chambers as quickly as he could to rest, and rumours were starting again, claiming that his injury was worse than it seemed, that his life was still at stake, that a doctor was there constantly, that he had called for his advisors to decide on who would step next to the throne, just in case…
You had to make sure that none of these rumours were true, that he was fine. So, you imagined that trick with your colleague, convinced her to do it. And if she was supposed to give the bandages and the water to the guards, you had claimed that you had been told to bring them directly to the King. A royal order. No one could go against that. If Caspian failed to back up your story, you could be fired, or worse, sent in a dark cell for many years, but you didn’t care. Caspian and his injury were the only things on your mind.
You gathered your courage in a long intake of breath, and finally knocked on Caspian’s door.
His answer sounded distant, weaker than usual. Still, you obeyed the invitation, opened the door and walked in.
Caspian was lying in his bed, pillows set against the headboard so he could be half-seated. There were candles on his bedside table, and a warm fire in the hearth, and yet the room was dark, the inky sky shy of a moon and stars tonight. A half-eaten meal rested in a small tray by the bed, a book was set on the covers. And Caspian was there, buried under blankets, looking weak for the first time since you had met him.
Oh, you knew that he could be a gentle soul, you had talked about his weaknesses, he had showed you parts of his heart few had been lucky enough to glimpse at. But this was different. Somehow, over the course of the last year, ever since you had started speaking to him in private, Caspian had been a constant in your life. Once a week, you would sit together in the library, or in the gardens if the weather was gentle enough to allow it, and you would talk about yourselves, about what had happened in your lives while you were apart, about his worries, and your tasks, and he would complain about foreign dignitaries that drove him crazy, and you would laugh as you mocked some impolite lords and ladies. Every week for a year, you had been longing for these few hours spent with him, for his reassuring presence by your side, for the attentive ear he was lending to your unimportant life. And perhaps it was stupid, because again, you were but a servant, but during all these evenings you couldn’t help but believe him when he said that he cared, that he wanted to see you, that he was happy to spend time with you. It had been a regular meeting that had marked your life in such a way that you could not imagine living without it now.
And now, Caspian was lying in a bed, pale as sheets, beard a little overgrown, eyes so tired they seemed buried in their sockets, dark bags dug under his eyes. And for the first time, you thought that perhaps the rumours were true, that his life truly was endangered, that you could lose him for good…
“Y/N?”
He beamed up at you, a tiny bit of colour coming back to his cheeks for a moment, you couldn’t help but smile back.
“Your Majesty,” you bowed before walking closer, setting the water and clothes on a small table near the bed.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, but there was no resentment in his voice, more like disbelief, a tinge of awe at the sight of you.
“I came to take care of your bandages.”
“You?”
“I… I might have insisted…”
He chuckled, but quickly winced instead, hissing as his hand flew to hold his ribs. And he looked exhausted all over again.
“I apologize… broken ribs,” he explained. “Laughing is not recommended for a few more days.”
“I am sorry, I did not mean to cause you any pain. I can come back later…”
“No!”
He held out his hand, and you had no choice but to take it.
“Please, stay,” he asked, begging, and you had never seen such desperation in his eyes before. “Please…”
“Alright, I will stay.”
He pulled you closer, gently, until you would sit by his side; and he smiled at the feeling of the mattress bending slightly under your weight.
“What happened?” you asked, suddenly conscious of the quiet in the room, a silence barely disturbed by the cracking of the fire and the lulling movement of the wind.
He gave you a reassuring smile.
“I shall be healed in a few weeks, there is no need for you to worry.”
“There are rumours…”
“I am certain that they are most interesting. When is my untimely demise supposed to occur?”
He seemed relaxed despite his tiredness, and you caught yourself smiling at his joke.
“About three days ago.”
“Dear Aslan, I am back from the dead already!”
“It would seem so. You look the part, at least.”
He tried not to laugh, and you apologized as he winced.
“I have missed this.”
“My obvious disrespect toward my King?”
“You. I have missed you.”
He blinked, and you thought he needed rest, but he asked for you to stay again, just a little longer, and you couldn’t refuse.
“You did not answer. What happened?”
Caspian shrugged.
“It was a battle, I was wounded. There is nothing else to say about it.”
Slowly, you nodded, knowing that he was avoiding your question, but letting him get away with it.
“I should change your bandage. And then, I will let you rest.”
“Do I truly look so bad?” he asked with a crooked smile, but it faltered as you averted your eyes. It was your time to avoid his question.
You helped him out of his shirt, revealing the large bandage that encircled his torso and shoulder. He had another one around his arm. Both wounds were deep cut, that had been stitched by the expert hands of a doctor. Still, as you stared at the broken flesh, at the spots of blood still on his skin, at the red line crossing his chest… you realized just as lucky he was to still be breathing.
The rumours, if exaggerated, were not unfounded either…
You got to work in silence, hands shaking as you held back tears. Because you could have lost him this time, he could have never come back home, and then you would have never been able to tell him what he meant for you. That he was everything. That you loved him with a devotion you had never guessed yourself capable of. With a love you knew could never falter…
“Y/N?”
He wrapped his hand around yours, steadying your trembling fingers. You realised, then, that you were crying.
“I am fine. It is just a wound, it will heal.”
You didn’t stop him when he guided your palm to his heart, splaying your hand across his warm chest, and your heart staggered at the contact. He made you feel the organ hidden there, beating steadily, unwaveringly.
“I am fine. I am here,” he went on, tone soothing, unbelievably warm, and it made you cry even harder, breaking all of the borders to your hearts, all the walls guarding your soul.
“I was so scared,” you admitted, voice hoarse with your cries. “I am so scared…”
“There is no reason for you to worry. It will heal. I am perfectly fine. I simply need a few days of rest, and then everything will be back to normal.”
“You could have died…”
“But I did not.”
“This time. This time, you did not. What about next time?”
“Next time, I will not die either. I will come back, and you will be here to welcome me home, just as you are here now.”
He brushed your tears away with his thumb.
“Stop crying. I cannot see you in pain.”
But you didn’t calm down, and he frowned in worry.
“Y/N, what is it? What is on your mind? What has you so upset?”
Under your palm, his heart was still beating, you could feel it run across your entire body. You would have sworn your own heart was in sync with his now.
“I am sorry,” you whispered. “I cannot help it. The way… the way I feel for you. I am sorry.”
He frowned slightly at that, but there was some hope in his eyes as well.
“I think… Seeing you like this… I cannot hold it back any longer. I just… I must let it out. Even if I know that this is impossible, and that my feelings are unrequited… and perhaps you will never want to see me again but… it hurts too much to think that you could have died without knowing.”
You were bolder than you had ever believed yourself to be capable of when you reached up to touch his cheek, fingers tickled by his beard.
“I love you,” you confessed in a breath that even you could barely hear, and yet Caspian seemed to catch it loud and clear. The way his breath caught in his throat, and his heart under your palm sped up, became erratic… all these were giving him away. “I love you, Caspian. I have loved you for a long time. And… I know that I am servant, and that I will never be more than a faithful friend to you, but… I wanted to tell you, while I have the chance. Because despite being forbidden, my feelings are earnest, and that ought to mean something… If anything, it ought to be worthy of acknowledgement, at the very least…”
You were surprised to find tears in Caspian’s eyes, some that he tried to blink away, but failed to force into disappearance. Instead, he pressed your palm harder against his chest, and his heart was beating dangerously fast now. And through his gesture, he was trying to tell you something, or rather, to show you, as words were failing him now.
But you didn’t understand, and so he cleared his throat, at long last.
“I did not think that you felt this way for me.”
“I thought I was being obvious,” you replied, a painful smile on your lips. “All of my colleagues know. They have guessed. They call me a fool for it, and they are right, of course.”
“A fool?”
“You are King, and I am a servant. There is no more foolish love as this one.”
“I highly disagree. If anything… if anything, I am happy you are letting yourself yield to such foolishness.”
You frowned at his words, afraid to understand what he meant.
He looked down for a moment, looking for the right words, it seemed, and you gave him the time he needed to start speaking. Anyway, you didn’t know what to say.
“If you are opening your heart to me, then… I reckon that I should open mine as well. I… I was hoping you would come, that I would see you today. But I was worried that you would not want to see me, so I did not ask for you to come.”
You frowned at that.
“Why would I not want to see you?”
Caspian shrugged.
“I did not think that you harboured such feelings for me. I thought… I thought I was a mere friend. You have never shown any sign that there could be more…”
“You are King, there cannot be more. Despite my feelings, I am well aware that there will never be anything more between us.”
But Caspian shook his head, capturing your gaze in the blackness of his irises.
“Y/N… I am King. I am the one making the laws, I can marry whoever I want.”
He said it like it was easy. Like it would not create rumours, create tensions with other lands, like it would not infuriate the entirety of the Lords and Ladies, like the whole of Narnia would not criticize his choice. Like it merely depended on the two of you. It seemed such a foolish view of the world, naïve, too much so for such a clever man.
“The political crisis that would follow would be disastrous.”
“Why would it be? There is nothing wrong in falling in love. There is nothing wrong in marrying the woman I love either. We have never behaved in a disrespectful way, we have never crossed any line that should have remained uncrossed. There is nothing wrong with this…”
The woman I love.
His words echoed still in your ears, in your heart as well. You could not believe them… or rather, you could not believe that they were meant for you.
“Besides, there is a very easy solution to our problem.”
“Really?”
“I can dismiss you from the castle. Then you will no longer be a servant working at Cair Paravel. And then, if you want me, I can marry you.”
You stopped breathing altogether, and Caspian seemed amused by your expression. The smile that formed on his tired features was full of fondness.
“It is funny that you blame me for being blind, when you have been just as unable to see the truth as I was. I thought, too, that I was being quite obvious.”
“You cannot be meaning that.”
But he pressed your palm tighter against the skin of his chest, so you could feel even more vividly the beating of his heart against your hand, until it felt like you were touching it, like you were holding the organ itself.
He looked at you with such intensity, the entire world around you had disappeared.
“Y/N… do you not know…? Do you not know that my heart is yours? That it has always been yours? Can you not feel it?”
He gave you a gentle smile, voice barely more than a whisper and much deeper than usual, the weight of the confession making it too hard for him to breathe.
“My heart is in the palm of your hand, where it has always belonged. It has always been yours to hold in your hands.”
It was his turn to reach for your cheek, and you leaned into his touch without noticing. When he gently pulled you down, failing strengths not allowing him to lean up to meet you, you didn’t resist. Instead, you allowed him to guide you to him, until his lips and yours were but a breath away from each other.
“I love you,” he whispered, and your heart, you thought, exploded. “Can I… Can I do this? Y/N, I have been dreaming about this for so long…”
Instead of answering, of granting him permission to finally kiss you, you were the one to close the distance between your mouths, kissing him achingly, with every bit of your worry, your love, your passion, your withheld feelings poured into him through the tender gesture. And he responded with the same strength, the same unwavering desire to hold you closer, to devour you until you were one, to show you just as much he felt for you…
You kissed for a long time, forgetting about the world, the duties, the ranks and the time that passes. And in your palm, his heart was beating.
#caspian x#king caspian#caspian#caspian x reader#caspian x y/n#caspian x you#caspian fanfiction#caspian fanfic#caspian oneshot#writing#fanfiction#fanfic#oneshot#narnia#narnia fanfiction#narnia fanfic
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White Moves First, Part 5 ~ Edmund Pevensie
Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?
Warnings: none
Word count: 3k
White Moves First Masterlist
@writing-on-the-wahl you're amazing, in too many ways for me to try and sum up. Thank you so much for everything.
“Never in all my days did I imagine this would come to pass!” My father clapped his hands together, the sound an unnaturally sharp contrast to the excitement of his words.
I tried to match his radiant smile, but failed before I even started.
It was less than ten minutes after Edmund went to go find my father when I was summoned to the king’s study. Cor sat properly on the sofa facing the fire while Corin slouched beside him. Edmund stood by the right corner of the mantelpiece, his back to the fire and his gaze trained on the rich wooden floor. Not knowing where to stand, I stood by the left corner.
My father flitted between his desk in the corner and Edmund, seemingly unable to keep still. “My daughter and King Edmund?” he said with comical disbelief. “How wonderful it is!”
Corin shook his head, looking a bit dazed. “My sister, a queen.”
“Of Narnia,” Cor added, giving his twin a significant look. Not the fourth wife of a prince in Tashbaan, his expression said, likely familiar with the consequences of those words ever leaving his mouth. Most everyone in the room believed I still had no idea how close I’d come to being a princess of Tashbaan and not a queen of Narnia.
Edmund’s gaze didn’t shift from the floor.
To anyone else, his face would speak of deference and humility, but I knew him, like I knew the scratches on my chessboard too well to mistake it for another or the paths of the garden too well to get lost. His expression was one of discomfort. And how could he not be uncomfortable when he was stuck in a room with my father and brothers, discussing the topic of marriage?
He’d seemed so surprised when I brought up how much he loathed marriage, as if it wasn’t plain and simple to see. Whenever Queen Susan or Queen Lucy talked of weddings and betrothals, he looked as if he’d smelt something rancid. What kind of friend would I be if I hadn’t noticed?
Hopefully, we had a few months before we married, to give us time to figure out how this arrangement was going to work.
“I am overjoyed!” my father announced, needlessly. We could all see it on his face. “And your mother would be so happy.”
I pursed my lips. Would this make my mother happy? Would the proposal from Rabadash have worried her? Would she have been relieved? Or, perhaps, like me, would she have been left in the dark, blindly following my father’s choices?
“Father, perhaps–” Cor’s comment was interrupted as the door flew open to reveal Edmund’s older sister.
“Queen Susan!” my father boomed, spreading his hands like he was welcoming an angel.
“I came as quickly as I could.” She glanced around the room as she closed the door behind her. “What’s happened?”
“Your brother’s marrying my sister,” Corin grumbled, and Cor nudged him.
Queen Susan’s eyes went wide as they found her brother. “You…” She glanced at me. “And…?”
“Me,” I finished awkwardly.
To her credit, Queen Susan only blinked once before taking the news in stride. “Well then,” she folded her hands together, “I suppose we’re preparing a wedding.”
My father nodded. “Ab-so-lute-ly. Why, there isn’t a moment to lose!”
“Sorry,” I cut in, “but why do we have no moments for, uh, losing?”
“The sooner we get married, the better,” Edmund said calmly from his spot on the other side of the room. Everyone looked at him, a common occurrence whenever the Just King opened his mouth. But unlike normal when Edmund would hardly acknowledge the attention, he glanced uncomfortably at everyone before meeting my eyes. “It won’t do to wait, not with Rabadash’s presence here.” He started to push his hands into his pockets, and, at the last minute, he clasped them behind his back instead.
“Oh,” was all I said.
“And why would we wait?” My father seized one of my hands, dragging me closer to Edmund with such zeal, I nearly tripped, and would have, if Edmund’s hands hadn’t found my waist to steady me. “This is a fated union!” my father boomed in Queen Susan’s direction as Edmund’s hands flew away from my waist and his feet shifted to create space between us.
I was so distracted by Edmund, it took me a moment to understand what my father had said.
Fated union? Hadn’t he just said moments ago that he never imagined this happening?
“If we work quickly,” my father walked towards the queen, “why, we could have them married by the end of the week!”
Queen Susan jerked out of some pensive musing. “Yes! Yes, I don’t see why not.”
“We’ll get started immediately.” My father offered his hand to the queen, which was quickly accepted. “Now, my lady, we must start with the guest list. Of course, the Archenland nobility will all be invited to this most auspicious event, but we must see about inviting High King Peter and Queen Lucy.” Still talking, he led her out of the room, leaving me and my brothers with Edmund.
Silence fell.
As the fire behind me let out a great pop, I peeked at Edmund, who was already looking at me. The moment our eyes met, we looked away.
Cor caught my eyes, quirking an eyebrow, but Corin was staring at Edmund with the defiant expression he wore whenever someone dared him to do something foolish.
“So why do you want to marry Y/N?” Corin asked.
“Corin!” Cor hissed.
“It’s a valid question!” Corin folded his arms. “You’re wondering it too!”
I looked at Edmund and knew we were silently asking ourselves the same question: did we reveal to them the true motivation behind why Edmund suddenly wanted to marry me? Edmund raised his eyebrows, clearly placing the decision in my hands.
If they knew, they would see how wonderful Edmund was…but they would also see how pathetic their sister’s position was, that I’d found out I was being married off and had to rely on a friend to rescue me because I couldn’t rescue myself. I didn’t want them to be party to my embarrassment. “It’s none of his business,” I said to Edmund, and I knew he understood my hidden meaning. “You don’t have to say anything.”
“It is too my business,” Corin argued, getting to his feet. Cor got to his feet also, putting a hand on his twin’s shoulder, which Corin quickly shook off. “If he’s going to be my new brother-in-law, I want to know.”
Brother-in-law.
The title made me feel suddenly queasy. If it made me feel queasy, it certainly made Edmund—the man who never wanted to marry—uncomfortable as well.
“Corin–” I started, ready to send him off the trail.
“Your sister,” Edmund cut in, drawing all eyes, “is special.”
Special.
That was like calling something interesting—it sounded like you were saying something, but you really said nothing at all.
“Really, Edmund, you don’t have to–”
“Shhhh!” Corin shushed me. Both my brothers faced Edmund, looking expectant. Outnumbered and helpless, I dropped into an armchair, watching Edmund try and stitch his words together.
“It’s not hard to find a beautiful woman,” Edmund said finally. “Nor is it rare to find a well-mannered woman of grace and poise. I’ve met many women of great intelligence or enthusiastic patience or tremendous humanity.”
I looked down at my shoes, my eyes watering from the smoke of my hopes burning.
“But your sister, somehow…is all of those things.”
I glanced up to see Edmund looking over at me. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a soft and undeniable fondness in his eyes. “Any man would be lucky to have her, but none could deserve her.” He shook his head. “Not even me.”
My heart overflowed, brought to the brink of pain with the amount of affection in it.
“I’m quite convinced that if she wanted to,” Edmund tilted his head, “she could outshine the sun.”
His words stole my breath. I fought to regain it, to be as unruffled and mighty as his words made me seem, but air seemed beyond my reach. He didn’t have to say all that, I’d given him permission to ignore my brothers, and yet he’d said it anyway. Did he really mean it? Or was he pandering to my brothers to convince them?
Even as I pondered the question, I could tell by his face that his words were in earnest, and it made me wonder. As underhanded as Rabadash proved himself to be…was he right? Did Edmund truly love me?
Corin pretended to gag. “Gross.”
“Corin!” I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks heat up.
“I didn’t ask for poetry!”
Cor shoved Corin. “Shut up!” Cor stepped forward to clap Edmund on the shoulder. “It will be an honor to have you as our new brother, King Edmund.”
Edmund politely inclined his head. “Likewise.”
“You picked a good one,” Corin told me, begrudgingly. With that, the twins left the room, arguing about Corin’s manners as they went.
And then, Edmund and I were alone.
All our familiarity melted away like snow in the spring. We didn’t touch each other, we didn’t look at each other, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if Edmund was trying to ignore the sound of my breathing the way I was trying to ignore his.
My current position far exceeded my position a few hours ago. Marrying Edmund was a vast improvement over marrying Rabadash.
But…with Rabadash, there was no obligation to pretend it was anything more than an arrangement. I could’ve spent my whole marriage loathing him, and it changed nothing. But with Edmund? I didn’t have the ease of hatred nor the certainty of love. It was still an arrangement, but an arrangement that left me unsure of where I stood.
“Will you stand up for me?”
I blinked, suddenly noticing that Edmund stood in front of my chair now, his hand outstretched. “What?”
“Stand up.”
I did, tentatively placing my hand in his. Edmund was standing so close, I had to tilt my head back to look in his face. This is how we stood in the drawing room, when Edmund looked down at me with an expression I’d never before seen.
He was wearing the expression again now.
Then, ever so slowly, he dropped down to one knee, and a sudden burst of alarm shot through me. “What are you doing?” I cried before clapping a hand over my mouth at the sheer volume of my shrill voice.
Edmund reached out for my other hand. “I’m doing this right.”
I curled both hands into my chest. “You don’t have to–”
“I do,” Edmund said grimly, looking up at me. “In fact, I should’ve done it in the drawing room the moment I thought of this whole plan. You deserve to have this done right.”
“But this makes it–” I’d been about to say ‘real’, but nothing about this was real. If it were real, Edmund would propose because he didn’t want to live life without me. Because he loved me, not because he was trying to save me from an impossible situation.
And yet, it was real. This was happening.
“Will you please let me do this?” Edmund asked.
“But I’ve already said yes!” I said shrilly. “We’re already getting–”
Married.
A measly little word, and yet I couldn’t make myself say it, too aware of its weight.
“You said yes to the plan.” Edmund got to his feet again, something raw in his eyes. “You didn’t say yes to me.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s implied!”
Edmund bent a little so that our faces were on the same level as he looked directly into my eyes. “I don’t want a marriage based on an implication.”
My knees shook a little, weakened by the intensity of his tone. There should’ve been no surprise about this. I knew what kind of a man Edmund was. Of course it would translate into the kind of husband he wanted to be.
“Y/N, please,” Edmund begged. “I-I need to feel like I’m doing this right.”
“You’re…” I trailed off. “You’re already doing too much for me.”
“Then do this for me.”
Why? my head screamed. I knew what Rabadash’s answer to that question would be, and it scared me. But as Edmund looked at me with his wheedling face, I knew there wasn’t much I could ever deny him. I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded, not trusting my voice. For Edmund. I could let him do this.
“Alright then.” Edmund clumsily and awkwardly took my hands, and I wasn’t sure if his hands were sweating or if mine were as he lowered himself onto his knee again. “Y/N, will you marry me?”
For a scary moment, I couldn’t form any words, couldn’t do anything except stare at him. Edmund was gaining new titles with this.
Son-in-law. Brother-in-law. Husband.
And so was I, I realized.
Queen. Sister-in-law. Wife.
I stared down at Edmund, cursing his persistent need to do things ‘the proper way’.
“Please say yes,” Edmund pleaded, his eyes imploring for the word.
Why did he seem so desperate? We were already getting married. The deal was already made. The wedding was being planned. Why did my ‘yes’ matter so much?
It didn’t matter that much to anyone else.
I swallowed hard. “Yes.” The word was strained and indecipherable, so I cleared my throat. “Yes, Edmund, I’ll marry you.”
Edmund didn’t smile. Instead, he released my right hand, shoving his own into his pocket.
“What are you–” My words died as my eyes caught the flash of silver. I gaped down at Edmund. “You got me a ring?”
Edmund laughed nervously, looking down at the band in his hand. “Not exactly. It’s actually my signet ring from when I was younger. I, uh, I outgrew it, and they had to craft another one.” He lifted his right hand to show off the ring on his pointer finger. “I-I just thought, um, that it could work until we could have another one made for you.” His rushed and uncertain words floored me. He scratched his neck. “It’s small, I know, and it’s very simple, but I just, I mean, I thought perhaps, in a way, it’s right–”
“It’s perfect.”
Edmund looked up at me. “Really?” I nodded, wordlessly holding out my hand. Edmund, staying in his position on the ground, gently slid the ring onto my ring finger. It nearly slipped back past my knuckle. “Um…I guess it’s too big.” He started to pull it off.
“Wait!” I quickly slid it onto my middle finger. Still too big.
Edmund rose to his feet. “Really, if it doesn’t fit, you don’t have to–”
I slid it onto my pointer finger, and it stayed right where it was. “It fits,” I said, showing it to him.
“It’s not on your ring finger though,” Edmund said, frowning.
“No, it’s okay. I like it on this finger.” I held it up to the light, admiring the birch leaves right in the center. “And anyways, we match.“ Taking his hand in mine, I spread his fingers until our palms met, the rings matching up with our pointer fingers. “See?” I said softly.
Edmund didn’t reply at first. Then, his eyes met mine. “I guess we do.” He let his fingers slip, intertwining with mine. I held my breath, suddenly anxious as his thumb gently, soothingly rubbed mine. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I let out the breath, sinking into the comfort of my courteous and wonderful friend. “Yes. Are you?”
“Apparently,” his Adam’s apple rippled as he swallowed, “we’re going to be married by the end of the week.”
I knew it, I knew he didn’t want to be married. I loosened my grip on his hand. “You don’t have to do this–”
“Y/N,” he said softly, holding my hand tighter. “We’re not going to have this conversation over and over again.”
“I-I just, I can’t–”
“If the roles were reversed,” Edmund cut in, “would you do the same for me?”
“Of course I would,” I replied without a moment’s hesitation. “I’d do anything for you, because you’re my best friend.”
The corners of Edmund’s mouth turned ever so slightly upward. “And I for you, because you’re mine.” His expression turned a little devious. “Should I be offended that you keep trying to let me out of this?”
I chuckled a bit self-consciously. “It’s probably bad manners, isn’t it, to reject a gift like this?”
“It is,” Edmund said pleasantly. “But have no fear, I’ll still bring you gifts on your birthday every year.”
I smiled. “Except you’ll only have to walk them down the hall instead of sending them across nations.”
“I’ll save on so much postage,” Edmund murmured. I giggled lightly, and Edmund smiled fully. The tightness in my chest eased at the familiar sight. It was the type of smile that promised we were going to be okay. The awkwardness of our impending marriage couldn’t shake our friendship.
The door opened, and we respectfully stepped away from each other.
“Y/N,” said Queen Susan’s melodious voice, causing me to look up. She pursed her lips, clearly trying to conceal a smile. “I want your opinion on flowers for the wedding.” Her eyes flicked towards her brother. “Edmund tells me you like flowers.”
I looked over at Edmund, and the pink dusting his cheeks made me smile. “Yes, I do,” I said lightly, walking over to Queen Susan. She turned to lead me down the hall, and I glanced over my shoulder at Edmund.
He looked the very picture of regality.
His hands were behind his back again as he stood at his full, kingly height. Even the smile on his face was lordly, yet spoke of such warmth, I wondered at his assertion that I could outshine the sun.
Didn’t Edmund know he already did?
-
Overall tag list:
@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers
White Moves First tag list:
@thelifeofsecretpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen
#narnia#chronicles of narnia#edmund#edmund pevensie#edmund fanfic#edmund fanfiction#king edmund#king edmund the just#arranged marriage#arranged marriage trope#friends to lovers#chess#narnia fanfic#narnia fanfiction#marriage#wedding
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NFE 2023: Fics are Revealed!
The collection is open. Go read now. We'll be here when you get back.
#narnia#narnia fic exchange#the chronicles of narnia#narnia fic#narnia fanfic#fic exchange#fanfic exchange#narnia fanfiction
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A little play
A modern AU Edmund x reader fic about academic rivals for @needsmth's request
First year of uni, and you already found a rival. Yay!
At first, you couldn't complain about sharing most of your classes together, since he was intelligent and cute, but when he started getting all the answers before you (and of course, he called them right), he became unbearable.
Sociology? He got it. Psychology? Easy-peasy. Economy? Wait, how come he had previous knowledge of this one? And let's not get into Philosophy, the subject you were looking forward to the most during that last year of high school.
And he was beating you on that one, too. He was so quick to answer, so quick to understand, and that when he didn't guess what the teachers would say next.
Now, he was not over-confident or smug. Even you could see that. But just that happy little smile he had on his pretty face after he won a teacher's approval was so, so annoying, sometimes you just could not resist the urge to find something to shout right after him -- a counter-argument or whatever. Whatever.
Yeah, you were not proud of that little scene you may or may not have displayed yesterday. The worst thing was his concerned look as if you were a little mad girl with no self-control. His dark eyes were tender, looking down at you. You felt sorry for him that time -- he had nothing against you. So you decided that today you were going to apologize to him.
Such decision had been made with no consideration of the long class hours that were to pass before lunch. There he was again, the smart boy. What was his name again? Oh, Edmund. Edmund and his dark wavy hair, his rosy lips uttering every right answer... You had to look down.
Coward, you told yourself. Apologize as you should, little brat, and grow up for once. No more high school drama. You graduated with honours, and you were now decided to make the best out of your college years.
The arrival of lunch was both a relief and a burden for the feeling of anticipation that surged in your chest. You walked out of the classroom, through the hallway, preparing a speech. When you entered the cafeteria, you scanned around the room. You spotted the cute boy waiting at the last of the queue, one hand in his trousers pocket. He stood straight, with almost a regal posture, and looked ahead with patience. How could he be so perfect?
You approached him, steadying your breath. Apologizing was never easy. He noticed you were walking towards him, so turned his head with curiosity.
'Hey,' he said. Low voice, soft.
'Hi,' you said. 'About yesterday...'
'Oh...' He remembered.
'Yeah, I'm sorry.' You twisted your fingers in awkwardness. 'I don't know what came unto me, I didn't mean to shout at you.'
'It's OK,' he said.
You stood there, next to him, fingers twisted. The queue was advancing, and you also needed to have lunch. Better not to wait awkwardly that long distance to the counter.
'So...,' you said, 'Edmund, right?'
'Yeah. And yours is...'
'__.'
He nodded. 'Seems we have every class together.'
'Oh, yeah. For better or for worse, you won't get rid of me so easily.'
'Pff,' he looked away, nothing to add. Then, something occurred to you.
'I guess I'll stand to a challenge,' you said, shrugging. He looked at you. 'I won't let you call all answers out so easily.'
'Well, it won't hurt a little play.' He lifted an eyebrow.
'A little play?' You mocked offence. 'Sir, I'll make you play in hard mode.'
He scoffed. 'I'm all in.'
---
Well, it is done! Hope this is what you expected, and that you like it ♡ As I previously said, my hyper-fixation on Narnia is sort of fading away, so I am unsure of what to work on next for this blog. (I knew this would happen, but I also thought I would have new fandoms to write for...)
Either way, requests are still open! No, I am not turning down your Narnia requests, so feel free to send them if you have any! But if you just want to reach out to me with other ideas, I would really appreciate it!
Oh, I'd also like to ask you, if you like this, please reblog <3 Reblogging is ten thousand times better than just liking for the Tumblr algorithm, so if you appreciate my writing...👉👈
#please reblog!#this is where i should ask you not to repost without permission or credits#please respect authors and their writing even if it seems to be “just a fanfic”#though i personally don't mind it much if you repost my fanfics#i write them for the online community#but credits are always appreciated!#just because you're online doesn't mean you are free from ethics#edmund pevensie#edmund pevensie x reader#fanfic#one shot#chronicles of narnia#narnia fanfic#my writing
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Self-Promote Saturday
Hi, this isn't a thing, but I'm making it one (writers and other artists feel free to join in on Self-Promote Saturday). Today's self-promote is: Familiar Faces (9k words)
It is my only Narnia fic, but I have such a soft spot for it. The premise is basically that Narnia doesn't know homophobia and Peter is gay and had a husband before they got yeeted out. It focusses mostly on the second movie with Peter dealing with the grief over loosing his husband and being forced into this world again, only to come back and still not have his husband again, and on top of that having to deal with this prince he doesn't like (Caspian), who has his husband's face. It is a Caspian/Peter shipfic, but it takes a bit (we love an enemies to lovers). I love exploring the implications of Narnia and the siblings leaving and coming back, so it was a lot of fun (also I had to make it gay, because it takes place in a closet dammit xp).
#rrposts#self-promote saturday#peter pevensie#narnia prince caspian#prince caspian#narnia#chronicals of narnia#prince caspian x peter pevensie#narnia fanfic#gay peter pevensie#caspeter#self promote saturday
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I wrote part of the 'golden age pevensies in prince caspian' it's below the cut, but I also posted it on ao3 if you want to read it there.
The beach smelled of ghosts. History as thick as smoke hung in the air, it seeped out of the forest like fog and meandered down to the ever shifting line where sea meets sand, where Trumpkin lay. When he had left the How that morning, he had not been expecting to find anything, not even the ghosts of his vague fears. Still then again, this morning he would not have believed he would be foolish enough to be caught by Telmarines. So maybe he shouldn’t put so much stock in his beliefs, if the world insisted on overturning them at the slightest provocation.
Even his reasonable expectations had turned to dust. On the first half of his journey, he had expected to flinch at the rustling of leaves, at the occasional snapping of branches, and the scurryings of small dumb animals. Then, when he had been captured by that fool of a lord, when he laid, bound and gagged in the bottom of a boat, he had expected to be delivered to his death, he had not exactly expected to become a ghost himself, but he would not have been surprised if they had had a hand in his death. But even less had he ever expected to be rescued by one.
Yet here he lay, miraculously alive, on a beach that smelled of ghosts: after the water had taken shape around him and dragged him from the rocky bottom, out of the drowning deep and onto the safe sands; after watery, webbed fingers had untied his bonds and pulled the water from his lungs; after they had melted away into the water again. Here he lay on the beach, waiting for the moment that those idiot soldiers would come back and finish their job. But the longer time stretched out, the less likely that seemed. They feared the ghosts as much as he did.
Clumsily, Trumpkin pushed himself to his feet and took stock of the world around him. A pale beach boarded by a dark, looming forest stretched before him, curving away before long. He hoped, as much as he ever did, that it curved back towards the land. Not a sound could be heard, even the lapping of the waves or the crunch of sand under his feet sounded muffled. As he began to walk along the beach, staying as far from the forest and its stench of history as he could and keeping an eye trained on the dark, nigh impenetrable, border of tree and underbrush, lest something move on the other side.
Long Trumpkin walked in this way; looping the island twice, for it was an island, totally separate and impossibly distant from the shore of the land he knew. He made note of every rock and branch that littered the beach, every shadowy break in the forest's defenses, every stream tricking out from its borders. Every once in a while, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of white shadows beyond the border of the forest: tall crumbling columns with ghostly figures, or big broken blocks of shimmering white stone. If he strained his ears, he could occasionally catch a faint strain of song that wafted out of the forest; sometimes the high voice and other times a deeper one, both so full of rage and mourning that Trumpkin could pick it out of the faint half notes that reached his ears.
More often than either the ghostly rocks or the haunting song, the trees would rustle as he passed by, though no breeze had blown by or stirred his beard. At first their branches swayed slightly, gently, moving their leaves softly, like the stretches of the newly woken. They shook more fiercely, more angrily; they stretched out beyond the bounds of the forest, reaching towards Trumpkin as if they knew he walked by them and wanted to catch them.
If Trumpkin had been a dwarf of the Golden Age, he might have called upon the saltwater naiads, and bargained for a crossing, or hired a boatman to ferry him across the channel. If Trumpkin had been a dwarf of the Golden Age such things might have been possible. But then, if he were a dwarf of the Golden Age, such things would not have been necessary; the island was not an island during the Golden Age. Under the rule of the Telemaries, Trumpkin had two choices: to stay on the beach and die as the soldiers had meant him to or brave the forest and its threatening trees to seek fresh water and whatever food it may contain. Trumpkin, being a dwarf of the Telmarine age, chose the second option, though fear of what might lurk in that darkness had turned his blood to ice in his veins. A death at the hands of the ghosts of days gone by held more honor than satisfying the wishes of the Telmarines.
Trumpkin marshaled what remained of his courage: he took a deep breath of the clean air of the sea; he chose a stout stick, though it would pass right through the immaterial bodies of any ghosts he may encounter, it gave him a modicum of reassurance, an illusion that he would be able to defend himself from any enemies he might encounter within the woods. Then, he took his first step into the forest.
Darkness filled the forest and swallowed Trumpkin whole after his fifth step. What light that managed to sneak its way past the canopy above rarely found its way down to the forest floor. Trumpkin soon found himself wishing for a light, any light, even if it meant making a beacon for the ghosts to flock to, among other things; even the prospects of moths flocking to his light sent a shiver down Trumpkin’s spin. But in the suffocating darkness of the forest, broken only occasionally by the faint white light emanating from the fragments of stones, and the smothering history hanging in the air, Trumpkin almost found himself wishing for that light, as impossible as that seemed to be; the Telmarines had relieved him of his tinder box along with his sword.
Every step he took brought him deeper and deeper into the woods. Trumpkin, being a dwarf, even a dwarf of the Telmarine age, knew his woodcraft well. No twig found itself broken under his foot; no leaf betrayed his position with a crunch; no root succeeded in tripping him. But even if Trumpkin had not been well versed in his art, he would not have found himself in need of it. The forest opened up a path before him, all the underbrush and forest litter seemed to scurry away from his path; even the trees danced away from him; only the huge white stones, remnants of walls and floors, stairs and windows, remained where they lay and the path lead him around them in large aches.
Further up and further in the forest led him, always clearing the way before him. Brighter and brighter grew the forest, until he could see the brush and bracken shift away from his path as he walked.
When the fallen, rotten apples began to roll away from him, sending small swarms of wasps up into the air, Trumpkin almost rejoiced, so great his hunger had grown. He gathered all fresher apples he could find, and filled his pockets until they almost burst. He munched away at them until his stomach stopped its grumblings; never ceasing his walking as he did so. Soon he quenched his thirst at the steam when the path led him by and almost forgot his worries as the wood lay out a feast before him. But the smell of ghosts and the bygone forgotten history never ceased. Nor did the song. Stronger now, more sure of itself and its anger, it danced between the trees of the overgrown orchard and pulled at Trumpkin’s heartstrings.
Only when his path led him to the rusted and broken gates, did his present pleasant mood cease.
Even in their present state of decay, he could see their extravagance, their workmanship. Surely these gates would lead him into the ruins of a grand palace. The ruins of the storied palace Cair Paravel. Surely these gates and the ruins that lay beyond proved the stories and myths; that those grand kings and queens of old once ruled in a shimmering palace by the sea. Only here did Trumpkin pause. Only here, for the first time, did he turn back. Only here did he see the dense blackness of the trees as they closed in behind him. Only here did he realize that he could not go back. Only here did his courage wane.
Trumpkin took one more steadying breath, closed his eyes, and pushed forward. He wriggled his way through the gates and surged forward. He felt more than heard the trees push up to the gate, blocking his way back more surely than they had before as their branches twisted into the curving latticework of the gates. The path lay before him, the barely apparent ghost of a hallway, now reduced to scattered stones and moss. This he followed. At each fork, the trees showed him where to go by blocking the other way.
The singing grew louder the deeper he went into the ruins of the palace. But now, it sounded less like singing and more like speaking. Beautiful and cadenced speaking, conversation set to song. He could now distinguish four voices. Arguing. Yelling at each other in a language he did not understand, sending shivers through his very soul. But he kept walking, kept bringing himself closer and closer to them, though at every step he longed to flee. Worse than Telmarines, these ghosts. At least he could see the Telmarines.
Suddenly, the voices ceased. Suddenly, Trumpkin found himself in a bright space, an open space; suddenly the blank blue sky opened up above him. Suddenly Trumpkin was in a throne room–what had once been a throne room, but now lay in ruins. Ceiling open to the sky, windows shattered, so long ago that the glass no longer lays scattered across the stones, which have now been carpeted in moss, pushed apart by grass and the young trees who will never succeed but who will and have disrupted the stones past all semblance of flatness.
Before Trumpkin, at the end of the long Great Hall, four figures sat on crumbling thrones, arrayed in a splendor he had never dreamed of, all shining crowns and glittering jewels and rich rippling fabric. Each appeared as still and solemn as stone; they betrayed no signs of life, Trumpkin caught no blinking eyes or rising chests, no finger twitch or wavering gaze; not even the breeze dared to ruffle their hair, or shift their clothes. They might have been stone, if it hadn’t been for the shining in their eyes and the tears streaming down their faces.
They might have been made of stone. They might have sat sentry there since the end of the Golden Age, placed as a memorial to the missing monarchs for as long as the stone would stand. Those piercing gazes, those stern and serene expressions might have watched over this place as it slowly crumbled before them. They might have sat here, vibrant splashes of color in an otherwise green and gray world, since the day Narnia fell, untouched by the ravishes of time or siege. In this place, where History hung so thick in the air that Trumpkin could smell it, almost taste it, it would not seem so strange, if these statue-like beings had remained untouched by time, if the world before them had crumbled while they remained standing, the same as the day they were painted.
For a moment, Trumpkin believed he’d stumbled across ghosts, that he himself had become a ghost, and that the four kings and queens of old sat here, ready to judge him for his crime of disbelief. But then he met the High King’s eye, nothing but a living, breathing being could hold that gaze, nothing but a living breathing being could look into his eyes and through his skin into his very soul.
The four Kings and Queens of Old, pulled out of their own time, sat in the ruins of their home; as solemn and unshifting as stone, they stared down the length of the Great Hall and pinned Trumpkin where he stood.
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Announcing:
East
"I bear little resemblance to the king I once was" - East by Sleeping at Last
A Chronicles of Narnia Fanfiction
Prologue / Chp1 / Chp2 / Chp3 / Chp4 / Chp5 / Chp6 / Chp7 / Chp8 / Epilogue
#should have regular updates!#chronicles of narnia fanfic#chronicles of narnia#chapter update#narnia fanfic#narnia#peter pevensie#lucy pevensie#edmund pevensie#susan pevensie#eustace scrubb
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honeyed chamomile (p. caspian)
request: ‘you’re welcome to stay, if you want’
find the prompt list + who i write for here
a/n: i hate this kinda but i missed writing n wanted to answer your request as soon as i could so i hope u like it at least :)
Flickering embers illuminate Caspian’s otherwise dark room, shielding your bodies from the Telmarine winter. Caspian sat on the floor, his back against a velvet sofa, his most recent assigned reading from Dr. Cornelius in hand. You were sitting between his legs, exhaustion tugging at your eyelids with a plea of slumber.
You didn’t want to sleep just yet, as time alone with Caspian was decreasing as your training hours seemed to increase. Just to spend time with him, you stayed with him until the sky began to lighten the previous night, playing an old card game his father had leant him before his passing. When you arrived back to your rooms, you had just under two hours to rest before you would be expected at the training rooms.
“I should probably get going, Cas,” you say, hand resting softly on his thigh. “I’m about to fall asleep and I’ve got training tomorrow morning.”
Caspian closes his book without looking and places it beside him, a habit that seemed to bother you more than it did him. He reaches for your hand, lazily tracing the warmth of your skin as places his cheek on the crown of your head, “Must you leave so early?”
“Early?” You laugh softly. “It’s almost midnight.”
“You usually stay for longer,” Caspian argues.
“I’m not usually this tired,” you admit. “I need to actually get some sleep tonight.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay, if you want.”
“You know I shouldn’t,” You remind him. King Miraz forbade you from sleeping in Caspian’s room until you were married the moment he found out about your relationship. There are very few things you feared, and Caspian’s uncle is one of them.
Caspian sighs as you break away from him to stretch out your limbs, silently yawning in the process. “You are no fun.”
“Hey, I’m fun,” you defend. “I’ll be less fun if I’m dead.”
Caspian laughs inwardly, his dark hair falling into his face as he glances down at your entwined fingers. “Please, stay. If something happens, I’ll take the blame. I promise. I want you here.”
You soften at his words, recognising his desperation to spend time with you in yourself. “I’ll stay. Only if you let both of us take the blame.”
Caspian grins, tasting of honeyed chamomile as he leans forward to capture your lips with his. Your hands link behind his neck, pulling him closer to your body as you chase after the swirling feeling in your stomach. Caspian’s own hands slide down to your hips, smiling against your mouth as you groan softly.
Caspian pulls away, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip before whispering, “It’s late, we should get to bed.”
#caspian#prince caspian x reader#narnia#narnia x reader#fluff#caspian fluff#caspian comfort#narnia fanfic#narnia one shot#caspian one shot
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It isn't that Lucy doesn't know Helen is her mother. She remembers, in hazy, smudged colours, the shape of those lips upon her forehead. The feeling of those soft fingers in her hair, knotted at the back, greasy in the front. Dark eyes, in dots, as a painting that makes no sense at all when viewed up close.
Helen Pevensie is thick layers of paint, not yet dry. Not yet framed. Not yet hung, with instructions on where to stand. So when Lucy, with child-eyes and child-lungs, looks at her, she sees:
Susan's smile lines. Peter's nose. The blush of Edmund's lips. Her own freckles, faded and powdered. Smudged. When she smiles and cradles little eight year old Lucy in her arms, the paint flakes from her hair.
Greys and browns. Blues.
Susan's skin is smooth. There is a gap between her teeth, and her hair is too short by half. Lucy skims her knees running on a straight alley, and it's Susan who holds her in her lap, humming songs of home. Susan's small hands on her neck, Susan's eyes, no longer golden as the mid-day sun in a cloudless sky.
Peter's nose is missing the hump that came from breaking it when he was ten-and-seven. His cheeks are bare. His hands are steady when she presses against him, fevered and coughing and greying at the edges. His voice is too high when he reads to her, and his skin is too soft.
His eyes are just blue, now, nevermind the storm outside.
It isn't that Lucy doesn't know Helen is her mother. It is just that her lap isn't the one she folds herself into. It's just that it isn't her blouse she presses her tears into.
"Lucy, darling", says Helen Pevensie. Her eyes are grey. Her mouth is grey. Her hands are grey. "Come sit with your mother, hm?" Lucy turns her face into the crook of Susan's neck.
Helen Pevensie sighs.
#the chronicles of narnia#narnia#tcon#lucy pevensie#helen pevensie#susan pevensie#peter pevensie#in which lucy muses on parenthood#in which helen has lost her youngest#tcon fanfic#tcon fanfiction#narnia fanfic#narnia fanfiction#larissa makes things
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Your Misfortune Matches Mine
It has been almost five years since the Pevensies were thrown out of Narnia, since they fell out of the wardrobe in the spare room.
They cope (or don’t) in their own ways.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/55291009
#narnia#the chronicles of narnia#amrut writes about narnia#peter pevensie#susan pevensie#edmund pevensie#lucy pevensie#the pevensies#the pevensie siblings#pevensies#pevensie siblings#fanfic#narnia fanfiction#narnia fanfic#the lion the witch and the wardrobe
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𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐝, 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧 & 𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆.
⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!
a/n: all characters over the age of 18
ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ
𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿
・You didn't know how it all started. You had no idea how or why all four of them were pining after you. Well, you didn't notice it at first. You guessed it was denial.
・And you never thought of yourself as that beautiful. Not compared to other women at court (which was self-confidence based, not on truth, but you didn't feel that.)
・But for some reason, you had caught all four men's eyes.
・Some thought you had put a spell on them, and at times, you thought that yourself. Because you would find hidden love letters, flowers and presents in your rooms.
・You would be escorted by one of them every morning to wherever it is you needed to go
・You were never ... without attention. You were always being asked for dinner, for a date, for a horse ride.
・But you weren't the type to take away someone's free will. Even if you did have a crush on each man.
・Peter was High King, and so passionate. So ready to defend his kingdom, his people and his family.
・King Edmund, but Ed as you knew him, was so witty, kind and you couldn't deny that whenever he winked at you from across a room your heart beat faster
・Caspian ... god .... his accent, his hair, the way he always put you at ease. And he always made time for you.
・And then Eustace, who the Pevensie's said he was once an irritating young boy, who had grown up. Narnia had helped him mature. Plus, you loved that wherever Eustace went, Reepicheep went as well.
・Eustace towers over you, and his smile ... you always get jealous when he smiles at anyone else. You would never admit that though.
・It was very suspicious that they all decided to pursue you. Susan had brought it up, talking to Lucy about it. They both wanted to understand why three members of their family were head over heels for the same young woman
・When they asked you, (you were slightly hurt by this and Lucy could see it on your face;)
"We don't mean it like that!" Lucy said walking forward and taking hold of your hand.
"Oh no! Not at all, it's just ... out of the ordinary," said Susan.
・Lucy had grown to be just as tall as her sister. And just as beautiful. You were confused as to why Caspian wasn't pursuing Susan.
"Oh! Because I know there are more beautiful people in the castle. And I've wondered why this was happening as well."
・You liked the surprises, which turned into dates. But now you knew that Susan and Lucy were gathering evidence
・Eustace was the first to ask you on a date. To which you said yes.
・He took you to his favourite spot in Narnia. A sparkling pool that cleaned anything completely off of you as soon as you got in.
"It's great for washing!"
・You didn't believe him at first. But he brought a pot of ink and spilt it all over his finest shirt.
・You gasped, but watched as he took off his shirt and plunged it into the water. Immediately the bubbles turned into sparkes, and almost like small rays of light bounced from the fabric, where the ink had once been.
・He pulled it back out and it was almost gleaming.
"H-holy god, this place really is magical," you said and touched the fabric. It was dry as well. But you were doing your best to advert your gaze. Eustace was shirtless and you were blushing...
"How did you come across this?" You asked, trying to take the attention away from the tension
・He coughed. Then put on his shirt.
"I-I love exploring Narnia-" He said with a slight smile, realising his actions
・You bowed your head and looked back at the water, hesitant to touch it. But you plunged your hand into it and instantly you were filled with light.
"Oh my-" Eustace said, looking at you like you had two heads.
"What is it?" You said, swishing your hand through the water.
"You're ... glowing."
・That's when a voice came forward.
"Y/N, what are you doing out here- oh, Eustace," said High King Peter atop his horse.
"Cousin," Eustace bowed his head as Peter trotted forward, his horse just as regal as he.
"Hello, my King."
Peter tutted, "how many times do I have to tell you. Just Peter."
・You blushed, already standing. You stood next to Eustace and felt incredibly awkward; not just because of the two cousins who were staring one another down, but because you were barefoot with unbound hair and completely without makeup.
"Well..." said Peter's horse. The mighty steed, Gideon, who was taller than you.
"I was wondering if you wanted to dine with me tonight?" Peter asked you, and you smiled, nodding.
With almost like a sigh of relief, Peter beamed but tried to hold it in, "I'll see you at seven in my dining quarters."
・Oh, alone. You hadn't had dinner with any of the men alone.
#witchthewriter#witch the writer's headcanons#narnia#narnia headcanons#peter pevensie#edmund pevensie#prince caspian#eustace scrubbs#peter pevensie headcanons#edmund pevensie headcanons#prince caspian headcanons#eustace scrubbs headcanon#headcaon#love triangle#boyfriend headcanons#narnia fanfic#lucy pevensie#susan pevensie#aslan#the chronicles of narnia#headcanons#moodboard
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Book Lovers
Here I am with a new fanfic for my Comeback event! This was requested by @jackys-stuff-blog : “Hey Carole, welcome back sweetheart 😊 I saw your event and can I send something in too? So uhm, can I request a library au where the reader is a librarian in Cair Paravel and they have a crush on prince/king Caspian who visits the library very often (either he is doing researches or just to read books in his free time 🙈), please? Thank you 😊 (Just if you want to write it 🙈)”
This is such a cute requests jfnjneuonrune I love it!!
I hope you like what I’ve written for you here! Thank you for sending this request!
****
Pairing: Caspian x reader
Warnings: so much fluff your heart might actually melt. Bonus: a very shy Caspian.
Summary: Caspian falls head over heels for the librarian in Cair Paravel.
Word Count: 2997
You liked humming while you worked.
Whenever the library of Cair Paravel was empty, you liked filling up the empty space with a soft humming sound; a quiet one, barely audible, but that felt merry all the same.
You picked up another book, checking the title engraved in golden letters on the leathery cover, and put it on its designated right spot on the shelf. You breathed deeply the sent of parchment, leather and ink. The safest fragrance there was. Your favourite.
It was a sunny dawn, bathing the beginning of spring with warmth. You could hear some birds chirping happily outside, and the sound brought a smile to your face. You liked that time of the year; when the mornings were still cold and shy but the afternoons were warm enough to let the first flowers bloom. For now, the first rays of sunshine were waking up Narnia and all its inhabitants.
It was early still, and yet you expected for the King to arrive any minute now. It had become a habit of his, really. Whenever he was in Cair Paravel, he took an hour in the morning to come to the library to do some research about history, geography, about old myths or about the kingdoms around Narnia. Sometimes he asked for a precise book, sometimes for a general topic, but he always asked you something. It was the same scene playing over and over again: Caspian passed the wooden doors with a warm smile on his lips, looked around for a while, then came to talk with you for a while, before you would guide him to the right books or maps and he would remain there for a while longer. But then, it would be the end of dawn and the beginning of bright daylight, and he would give you another one of his warm smiles, a polite nod to silently thank you for your help, and he would stride out of the library to attend his first meeting of the day.
And you would look at him walk across the room, longing to brush this rebellious strand of hair that always escaped his bun behind his ear. You would send him your brightest grin while you bowed as he would send one last shy smile your way before closing the doors behind him, and you would pray Aslan for him not to notice the way your breathing had quickened at the sight of his soft gesture, and for him to remain oblivious of how fast your heart was beating. You would stare at the door for long minutes, looking at the space, now empty, that he used to occupy.
And you would do your best to hide that you were deeply, unconditionally, desperately, irrevocably, madly… in love with him.
It was almost comical, really. The keeper of knowledge in Cair Paravel was foolish enough to fall in love with the King. The most unreachable man there was in the entire kingdom. The only man you had absolutely no chance of being with. Comical, really…
Speaking of the devil…
You heard the wooden door open, it made a creaking noise whenever it turned on its hinges. You were thankful for the signal, as it allowed you to climb down the ladder you were perched on, before putting down the book in your hand and heading towards the door to welcome the King. He was wearing a large brown shirt and a pair of leathery pants with high brown boots. He had left the first buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair was loose, falling gracefully on each side of his face to reach his shoulders.
Aslan, he was so handsome…
He offered you this smile of his, the one you were expecting, the warm and soft kind…
“Good morning, Y/N.”
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you answered, bowing before him.
You finally noticed that he was holding a couple of books, probably the ones he had borrowed from your library the week before. But instead of giving them back to you so you could put them away, He kept on staring at you for a while, his smile a little smaller on his face as it turned into a dreamy expression.
You were so beautiful like this, bathed in the reddened light of the young dawn that came in from the large windows. He stared as you bit your lip, an apparent sign of your nervousness. He noticed the way you joined your hands in your back. He noticed the way your eyes seemed almost afraid of him. Or… not quite afraid, no… Intimated, perhaps. Yes, that was closer to this look in your eyes. Still, your gaze was inviting, as if… as if you couldn’t help but stare at him too. As if you wanted to look at him, even if you weren’t supposed to…
He finally shook himself, realizing that he had been staring at you for way too long. He cleared his throat, looking at the tip of his brown boots to hide the way he was fiercely blushing.
“I… I will simply… I might need your help later, if you don’t mind.”
Caspian silently cursed himself for stuttering like a damn fool…
“Of course! Anything you need, Your Majesty.”
He nodded, still not looking at you, before striding to the closest shelf to hide there.
He made sure you could not see him and rested his back against the rows of books, throwing his head back and letting out a long sigh as silently as he could.
His heart was pounding. He needed to calm down.
It was always the same. He came here to see you every morning, and there you were… It was always the same scene repeating itself over and over again: he would walk in to find you hurrying towards him. He would stare at your welcoming grin as you bowed before him. And he would study how dawn painted your frame this time, how it would embrace your form and paint your skin in a slightly different shade than the day before, thanks to the everchanging qualities of light… And he would find himself at a loss for words, and would have to flee before making a fool of himself. He would need some time to gather his courage again before being able to talk to you once more. And then… then he would talk with you and he would listen to your soothing voice, glancing over at your hand every once in a while, wondering how your skin would feel against his… He would pretend to be in need of your services as the Royal Librarian, when really, he simply wanted to see you. And then, after running out of excuses to stay a little longer, he would finally take his leave, walking out of the room to attend his first meeting of the day. He could never stop himself from looking at you one last time before closing the heavy doors though.
And all the while, during his entire stay at the library, he had to manage to hide the fact that he was completely, entirely, absolutely, eternally, hopelessly… in love with you.
But all of this was about to change. Because Caspian had taken a decision.
This habit of his to come early every morning to see you, under the pretence of looking for books, had been going on for months now, and it was more than time for him to finally be brave enough to tell you the truth.
He didn’t come to the library for the books it sheltered at all, but because of the pretty librarian who worked there…
But this charade had been going on for long enough. It was time for him to be brave, and to finally tell you how he felt.
Or well… not… everything, because then he would probably scare you away. But he did intend to make it clear that he wanted to court you.
Caspian tightened his hold on his books, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves. Outside, birds were chirping happily, and he took it as a good omen. If the world was happy and bright outside, why couldn’t it be the same in this library now?
At last, he walked away from the bookshelves again, and went looking for you. He forced himself to keep moving forward when he finally spotted you, making piles of books on a large wooden table, so it would be easier to organize them and put them away.
You were focused on your task, and jumped when you finally noticed Caspian approaching.
“I am sorry, Y/N. I did not mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s me… I was lost in thought.”
You exchanged a timid smile, before Caspian would hand you the books he was still tightly holding.
“Thank you for your recommendations,” he spoke with a warm, calm voice that soothed you and yet made butterflies flutter in your stomach. “These were… interesting books.”
“Did you enjoy them?”
“I did. Very much so. Thank you.”
“Anytime, Your Majesty.”
You took the books, eyes glued on his dark stare. His eyes were so brown, they looked black in the early light, and you couldn’t distinguish where his irises began and where his pupils ended. And you couldn’t find the strength to look away…
“I…”
But Caspian fell silent, and all that remained was a motionless silence bathed in orange light. The sky was turning from red to gold slowly, shades mingling, hues changing into lighter ones. You could barely breathe, didn’t dare to move. There was an expectancy hovering above the two of you, covering your frames with a heavy blanket that seemed to impend your movements and thoughts alike. Impossible to think, to react… you could only wait for Caspian to speak again.
But he opened his mouth once more and failed to summon his voice, blushing hard. He couldn’t look away. He was trapped inside your gaze and there was nothing he could do. Nor move, nor speak, nor think. It was just you bathed in this morning light…
Finally, you gathered enough strength to speak, even though your voice was shaky.
“Do you need anything, Your Majesty? Can I help you?”
The sound of your voice seemed enough to shake him out of his trance and he cleared his throat, straightening his posture. He clenched his fists.
“I… Actually, I do not require your services as a librarian this morning.”
“Oh… very well…” you mumbled, quite taken aback.
“I… I came here to… ask you if you would wish to… perhaps… take a walk with me, this morning.”
Your eyes grew round. It was only then that you seemed to notice how nervous Caspian truly was. Which was unusual for him. After all, he was King. He was used to giving speeches in front of hundreds of people, to deal calmly with the most desperate situations, to take decisions that would set the destiny of thousands…
And yet, there he was now… looking nervous and fragile in front of… you.
Why would he be nervous?
“Did I… did I do something wrong, Your Majesty?” you asked, suddenly terrified. “Am I… Are you going to throw me out of the castle?”
Because there was no other explanation, really. You couldn’t see any, at least. You knew he was kind-hearted, and if you had done something wrong, that required him to send you away, then he might feel guilty about it; hence the nervousness.
But he frowned hard in response, looking at you as if you were mad.
“What? No… no of course not. You… you have done nothing wrong, Y/N.”
“Oh… Then… I do not understand…”
He cleared his throat again, nodding slowly.
He took a step towards you, getting closer, and his heart skipped a beat at your sudden nearness.
“I would like to take a walk with you in the gardens this morning, Y/N,” Caspian repeated. “Would you like that?”
“I… but why?”
He let out a breathy chuckle, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
He reckoned there was no other way to go around all this but by speaking plainly…
He looked at you again, his gaze soft and loving.
“I would like to spend time with you. And… not as a King requiring the services of his Royal Librarian but as… you and me. Just you and me. Because… I would like to know you better. And I would like you to know me better, too.”
You stared at him in silence, suspended to his words because… surely, he couldn’t be meaning that…
You were a librarian and he was a king… you couldn’t be together. How could he ever fall in love with you?
Before your silence, Caspian guessed that he needed to be even more direct, and so he was.
“I would like to court you, Y/N.”
You blinked a couple of times.
“Court me?” you repeated, unable to fathom what his words truly implied.
“Yes. I would like to court you.”
“Oh…”
You shook yourself, summoning the strength and the focus necessary to think. You shook your head, frowning.
Caspian could feel his heart breaking in his chest…
“Of course, if you do not feel the same, then… we can always forget that this conversation happened, and we will go back to being only a king and his royal librarian…”
“But you… you are a king.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I… am quite aware of that fact,” he smiled, quite amused despite the circumstances.
“And I’m the Royal Librarian.”
“Again, I am well aware of this fact.”
“We… I am not a princess or a… a noble woman of any kind.”
He frowned hard.
“I do not care about that.”
“You should. You should marry someone of your… rank.”
You noticed the way Caspian clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze to the ground again. Slowly, he nodded.
“I would like you to answer very earnestly my next question, Y/N. Could you do that?”
“Of course.”
“Are you saying no because I am a King? Or because you feel nothing for me at all?”
He looked up once more to capture your stare in his. You swallowed hard, your palms clammy.
“Please, do not lie about this. Give me an earnest answer,” insisted Caspian.
You should have lied though. Because it was ridiculous to admit to the King that you had feelings for him. Still, you were lost in this pair of black eyes you adored, and you couldn’t tell anything but the truth.
“I am not saying no. But you are King. And I am simply a librarian.”
“If I were not the King… would you say yes? Would you let me court you?”
You took a sharp inhale, before diving…
“Yes, I would let you court me.”
Slowly, a grin spread across his handsome features. You found yourself wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers through his short beard…
“Then, please… take a walk with me.”
“But…”
“I do not care about your rank, nor do I care about mine. I only care about the way I feel for you. And… I feel… a lot for you.”
You only noticed that you had stopped breathing once your lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen.
“I have… felt this way for quite a while, to be honest,” he admitted, his cheeks and ears now crimson.
At last, you started breathing again, and it was your time to paint a bright grin on the curve of your lips.
“I feel this way as well,” you confessed in a mere whisper. “But I did not think that my feelings were reciprocated.”
His grin turned amused.
“Why do you think I spend all my mornings here?” he questioned in a quiet tone that matched perfectly yours, a soft whisper that fitted confessions.
Your grin doubled in size.
“Really? You came to see me?”
Caspian nodded, his hand slowly raising to your face so he could let his fingertips brush the edge of your jawline, then up to your cheek and cheekbone…
You could barely breathe all over again. In their wakes, his fingers left your skin on fire…
“I… I merely wanted to see you every day, that is all.”
“I… I hoped every morning that you would come… that I could see you…”
He cradled your cheek in his large, callous palm, fingertips lost now in your hair...
You saw his lips getting closer to yours, as if he was falling towards you, diving towards your mouth…
“There is one last thing that I would like to ask you,” whispered Caspian, his lips now mere centimetres from yours.
“Anything…”
“Please, don’t call me ‘Majesty’ anymore. Call me ‘Caspian’. Please… please say my name…”
You could feel his breath fanning across your lips, the air leaving your lungs colliding with the air escaping from his…
You closed your eyes, your hands reaching up to hold onto his shirt.
“Caspian…”
He reckoned he had never heard his name spoken so softly, so beautifully, so lovingly…
Before you could speak again, Caspian had closed the gap between your two mouths, and was pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You were certain you were dreaming, although, when you felt your knees weakening and Caspian wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer, you couldn’t deny that this was real.
You were kissing Caspian…
You were not certain about when one of your hands left his shirt to mess with his hair instead, but when your lips finally parted, your fingers were lost in his soft strands.
You were both breathless and slightly shaking.
You opened your eyes again, only to fall imprisoned in his gaze once more.
“So… what about we take a walk in the gardens now?” Caspian repeated his offer, a grin stuck on his lips.
You mirrored his happy gesture, nodding.
“It sounds lovely, indeed…”
#caspian#caspian x you#caspian x y/n#caspian x reader#caspian fanfic#caspian fanfiction#caspian oneshot#narnia#narnia fanfic#narnia fanfiction#narnia imagine#narnia oneshot#fanfiction#fanfic#writing#oneshot
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White Moves First, Part 4 ~ Edmund Pevensie
Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?
Warnings: none?
Word count: 4.2k
White Moves First masterlist
Edmund paced around the drawing room, his anxious gaze occasionally staring at the chessboard.
Where was Y/N?
He rushed here as quickly as he possibly could after the meeting, unsure of how to tell her about everything and yet certain that she needed to know as soon as possible.
But she wasn’t there.
Too antsy to wait, he checked everywhere he could think: the royal dining room, the gardens, the library. He even went to her bedchamber and mustered up enough courage to knock. The staunch lady’s maid that answered informed him the princess hadn’t been back since she woke up that morning.
So he returned to the drawing room, fretting that Y/N would learn the news from her father, or her brothers, or, Aslan forbid, Rabadash himself.
His anxiety snowballed, every second bringing a new terrifying possibility as to how Y/N would react to his news. Would she hate Edmund for being there when her father betrothed her to a monster? Would her face go red as she stomped her foot and yelled? Would she cry, wailing about how it was a mistake? He hoped she wouldn’t cry; he never knew what to do when his sisters cried, and their tears stemmed from sentiment more than trial.
Edmund shook his head, standing in front of the window to look out at the mountains. What was he thinking? Y/N was a lady of grace and charm. She would absolutely be angry and sad, but she would never lose control. She would face the situation head on, doing her best to never let her misery show.
Somehow, that seemed worse.
A soft thud sounded behind him. Edmund spun to see Y/N with her back to the door she’d just slipped through. Finally, she was here. He opened his mouth, preparing to ask her to sit, when he spotted the look on her face, a look that spoke of such deep anguish, his heart ached.
“You know,” he said softly, the words betraying nothing of the trembling of his soul. “Who told you?”
“I listened in on the meeting.”
A rush of affection shot through Edmund. Of course she listened in. Of course she’d caught wind of the meeting with enough time to get into place before it could even start. It was just the kind of stubborn, clever thing she would do.
He chided himself. Now was not the time.
Putting his back to her, he faced the fireplace, running his hand through his hair. “We can’t allow this, we have to come up with an alternative.”
“There is no alternative.” Y/N’s shockingly steady voice made Edmund hesitate. “The prince is dead set on this engagement.”
“Maybe if I talk to Rabadash–”
“I already did.”
Sure he’d heard her wrong, Edmund turned to look at her. “You did what?”
Y/N dropped into the armchair, resting her forehead on a fist. “After the meeting, I went to confront Rabadash.”
“You did what?!” Edmund nearly tripped over the other armchair in his haste to reach Y/N. “Do you have any idea–”
A look of such distress crossed her face, Edmund lost his words.
Often, when Edmund looked at her, he could’ve sworn she emanated literal rays of sunshine. Now, her glow had been dethroned by a hefty darkness. He hovered, torn between turning away from the painful sight or comforting her.
Was she…giving up? Had she resigned herself to be Rabadash’s wife? To live in Tashbaan for the rest of her life, never to see her family or Edmund ever again? Red-hot devastation flashed through Edmund’s core, and he quickly withdrew from it, reverting back to his pacing. “Perhaps if I go to your father in private, I can change his mind.”
“And subsequently make him lose his kingdom?” Y/N shook her head. “He was willing to marry me off to Rabadash without even telling me first. Peace is his biggest concern.”
“There has to be an alternative.” Edmund scratched his head. “Maybe if some trade routes are established between Archenland and Calormen–”
“It’s not just Archenland,” Y/N said dully. “He’s worried about retaliation from Narnia too.”
Edmund blinked. “He tried to kidnap one of Narnia’s monarchs, he should be worried. But what does that have to do with marrying you?”
Y/N pressed her lips together and looked away. Was Edmund imagining it, or was that a flush creeping across her cheeks?
“Y/N?” he said carefully.
“I don’t know,” she replied, still not looking at him. “All I know is that he thinks marrying me prevents war.”
The wobble in her voice must’ve been a product of Edmund’s imagination. “Then we’ll just find another way to prevent it,” he said, returning to his pacing. “We can convene a peace meeting with all three nations, and we’ll reach an armistice. I’ll send a messenger to Narnia to–”
“Edmund, stop!”
He did stop, right in his tracks. He’d never heard Y/N raise her voice before. When he spun to face her, the dejection in her face made him want to sink through floor.
“This is what I was intended for,” she said, her voice calm again. “From birth, I was never supposed to lead. I was a bride to be married for the highest value.” She rubbed her arm, caving in on herself. “There is nothing more valuable than peace.”
“But…but Archenland needs you!” Edmund pressed.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Your family needs you.”
“No, they don’t.”
I need you.
The statement rocketed out of the depths of Edmund’s mind, shocking him so much that for a heartbeat, he worried he’d said it out loud. But Y/N gave no indication she’d heard such a thing.
His first inclination was to dispute the statement. Need? To need something was to be incapable of living without it. Edmund couldn’t live without food or water, or his body would give out. His spirit would shrivel without his siblings, just as his mind would collapse without books.
But he didn’t need Y/N like he needed any of those things, so what part of him was left to need her?
He couldn’t simply say he liked Y/N. That word didn’t do enough justice. Edmund liked a lot of people. He trusted her, because she’d long since earned it, but he trusted others as well, and he didn’t feel this way about them. He couldn’t put a name to the feeling, and he didn’t know how else to describe her presence in his life other than wholly necessary.
So...he did need her.
Is that why his heart ached as he stared at his nearly despondent friend?
Stubbornness turned over in his chest like a restless dragon, snorting flames from its nostrils. He’d be damned if he let her go to Tashbaan. The idea of losing someone so precious to someone so wicked–
Edmund went to Y/N, getting down on his knee beside her, almost reaching out to touch her hands before he thought better of it. “You are worth more than a bargaining chip.”
Y/N flashed him a fond, yet sad smile. “You always did favor pawns.”
“Don’t say that,” Edmund said, surprising himself with the sharpness of his words. “You’re not a pawn.”
“Then what am I, if not the weakest piece in the game?” Y/N retorted, getting to her feet, resuming his pacing. “I can’t do anything, Edmund! My words mean nothing! I can’t fight on anyone’s behalf, I can’t make anything lasting or important! The only reason I’m even a part of the game at all is so that I can be sacrificed!”
He got up, stepping in the way of her path so she was forced to stop and look at him. “I won’t let you go.” He took her hands again, squeezing them tightly. “We can stop this.”
A laugh tinged with sadness fell from Y/N’s lips as she looked up at him. Her watery eyes surveyed him with the same insight they always did, penetrating him down to his very bones. “This can’t be stopped.” The corners of her mouth turned down as her chin started to tremble. Edmund knew she was desperately trying to hold herself together. But he also knew she wouldn’t be able to, not if she was drowning in the same roaring helplessness swelling inside him.
Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms around her, half expecting her to delicately extricate herself from his improper embrace.
But instead of pulling away, she reacted in kind, winding her hands tightly around his back, the pads of her fingers pressing into his skin as she clung to him.
They’d never hugged before. As two members of royalty, the only touch that was allowed was his kiss on her hand or his hand on her waist as they danced. This was very different from that.
Y/N buried her face into the spot where his neck met his chest. Her shoulders began to shake, and Edmund held her tighter as if he could hold her world together purely with the strength of his two arms. She sniffed, and Edmund began to rub his hands in soothing circles on her back, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. “I swear to you, I’ll find a way. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this engagement is called off.”
“How?” Y/N said, her voice muffled by his shirt.
“I…I don’t know yet.”
Edmund hated the admission. He was the Just King, for pity’s sake! He was known for his wit and mind for strategy. Why, the only person who’d ever outmaneuvered him was in his arms right now. Surely now, when the need was greatest, his mind could come up with something?
Y/N’s shoulders stopped shaking, and she pulled away. “It’s okay,” she said softly, looking up at him, allowing him to see the unhappiness tugging at her mouth. “It won’t be all bad, right?”
Edmund should’ve agreed, should’ve tried to comfort her, but he couldn’t speak, not when he saw the wet trace of tears on her face. Just as he predicted, she was donning a brave face to hide her misery.
Y/N looked off to the side. “For one thing, my father will never be able to marry me off again.” She gave a wet laugh.
“I guess that’s true,” Edmund said reluctantly.
“I’m sure there are all manner of interesting peoples in Tashbaan.” She blinked several times, clearly fighting more tears as her trembling lips formed a fragile smile. “I won’t be totally alone, I’ll be able to find a friend.”
He couldn’t stomach that thought. Obviously he didn’t want her to be alone, but the idea of her trying to replace him with someone from Calormen only added to the pressure building in his chest.
Y/N walked over to the window, staring out at the mountains. “You know, the farthest I’ve ever traveled is Mount Pire. I’ve never gotten to cross the Winding Arrow River before, so the trip to Tashbaan will be–” she cut off.
Her words were slowly breaking him. He wordlessly joined her at the window, but instead of looking out of it, he watched Y/N gaze out at the mountains in the distance. Her attempt to find the good...it was almost too much to bear.
And yet he still had no ideas.
His anger spiked.
He was furious with Rabadash for being a hotheaded churl, with King Loon for bartering away his daughter’s life, and even with Susan for indulging Rabadash as a suitor in the first place. If she’d been content being unmarried, none of this would’ve happened. But no, she just had to have a husband, didn’t she? She’d succumbed to the same desire that many women had before her, a desire that he would never understand, a desire that Rabadash apparently expressed to King Loon.
Is this really what Rabadash wanted? To marry a woman in front of an entire kingdom? To sleep every night with her on the other side of the bed for the rest of his life? To have children with her? To belong to her?
But he wouldn’t belong to her, Edmund realized.
It was common for men of high status to have multiple wives, and Prince Rabadash was no exception. If Edmund’s intel was correct, he already had three wives. Y/N wouldn’t be afforded the respect of a princess, which was already much less than she deserved. She would become property, something to be used up and discarded.
It made him sick to his stomach, enough that he had to take a deep breath and look out the window.
Wait a minute, he thought. These aren’t the Southern mountains. He thought Y/N was looking out at the mountains that hid the Winding Arrow River from view, but the shape wasn’t right. She was looking to the Northern mountains.
The building pressure in Edmund’s chest finally grew too great as Edmund’s heart finally broke.
How often had she sat alone in this room, with no one to play chess with, staring out at the mountains that led the way to Narnia? If she married Rabadash, she would never get the chance to visit Edmund’s home. If she married Rabadash...he would never see her again.
Y/N was not a pawn, no matter how King Loon or Rabadash treated her. No, she was powerful and essential. Once she was gone, the game would be lost.
She was a queen.
And if Edmund could have his way, he would crown her himself.
Crown her himself...
A light went off in his brain, the solution so obvious, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it already.
He stepped in front of the window, turning to look at Y/N. “Don’t marry him.”
Y/N rolled her red eyes. “Gee, if only we hadn’t thought of that.”
Edmund grunted in frustration, bringing his fists up to his forehead. Considering how clever she was, he didn’t know how she didn’t understand. “No, you don’t get it.”
“It’s not like I can just waltz up to him and–”
“Y/N!” Edmund shouted.
“What?” Y/N snapped back.
“Don’t marry him.” He loosed a breath. “Marry me.”
Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, her entire face going slack as she stared at him like he was sprouting a third ear from his forehead. “What?”
“You’re right, there is nothing more valuable to your father than peace for Archenland. So we have to offer an alternative way of getting there.” Edmund spread his hands. “Surely your father would prefer marrying his daughter off to a powerful ally rather than appeasing an enemy.”
“B-but Narnia is-is already our ally.”
Edmund waved her words away. “In words, yes. But a marriage between the two countries? There’s no other move that would cement a relationship between our two countries more. It’s unquestionable. The Tisroc wouldn’t dare risk angering Narnia or Archenland, not when they would band together against him.” He waited for her to say something, but she sat silently, staring at him. “Y/N?” he said gently. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking…” She swallowed. “I’m thinking you’re crazy, and my father will never agree to this.”
“Y/N–” Edmund began, ready to reiterate the political benefits.
Y/N pressed a hand to Edmund’s mouth before any more words could escape. “And I’m thinking I’m so lucky to have a friend like you.”
All the merits of this solution died on Edmund’s lips as he realized how soft her skin was against his slightly chapped lips. Swallowing hard, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand down to his chest to free up his mouth. “I’m all the better for having you in my life. When I’m not here, I earnestly miss you. If you went to Tashbaan, we wouldn’t ever see each other again.”
And that was a fate worse than death.
“But I would be a–”
“You could not ever be an inconvenience to me,” Edmund said gently, but firmly. The very idea was ridiculous.
“What about other–”
“There aren’t any other women. I have no wife and have been courting no one.”
“But you’re a–”
“And you’re a princess. It’s perfectly common for a king to marry a princess.”
Y/N’s bottom lip jutted out, informing him that he was indeed correctly guessing and answering her objections. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“This is marriage!” Y/N burst out. “You’d be tying yourself to me for life!”
Edmund swallowed against the trickle of fear that appeared. “I know.”
Y/N’s brows furrowed. “But, Edmund, you don’t want to be married.” The trickle morphed into a dull roar, and it took all of Edmund’s strength to keep his face neutral. How had she known? He’d never told her, never told anyone how he felt.
She was right, though.
While Susan planned a pretend wedding, talked of having a ring on her finger, daydreamed of a husband, those things inspired no small alarm in Edmund. He could be outnumbered twenty to one and still prefer a battlefield to a chapel. To give that much of himself to a person, it was unnatural.
The skin between Y/N’s eyebrows puckered. She timidly reached out, her hand stopping just before it made contact with his skin. “I can’t ask you to do this.”
Edmund looked at her, at his beautiful friend who never needed an explanation because she understood him so well, and he realized there was something bigger than that terror.
“Y/N, listen to me.” Edmund took a deep breath, steeling his nerves and shutting down his fear. “Watching you fetter yourself to a man as vile as Rabadash would be…”
A travesty. An abomination. A crime.
He cast around for the right word, but no language in this world or any other possessed words strong enough to describe such a thing. “I can’t watch that,” he said finally. “I can’t…I can’t sit back and allow your father to give you away to a man as wholly undeserving as him.”
To be saying these things while her eyes searched his face was to be exposed. His face flushed, his body reacting to the embarrassment tossing and turning uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t like this. Forget showing her the chinks in his armor, he’d stripped himself of his armor completely.
But it wasn’t for nothing.
She, in all her luster, was worth it.
Y/N remained silent, and Edmund could see all the thoughts swirling behind her cunning eyes. “Why do you think you could get my father to agree?” she finally asked.
He could see her wariness as plain as day, but her curiosity sent hope bolting through him. “Your father knows we are friends. He saw us dance at the ball. It shouldn’t take much convincing for him to believe that I want you for my wife.”
Y/N pursed her lips at that. “What if he says no?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Edmund told her. “I will be convincing.” That, Edmund would have no problem with. He knew the way King Loon’s mind worked. If the king could give away his daughter to Rabadash, Edmund could easily convince him to give Y/N to him instead.
Edmund gripped Y/N’s hand. “Come to Narnia with me.” He couldn’t miss the spark in her eyes as he said it, the spark that matched his own. “You’ve always wanted to visit, but now you can actually come and see it.”
Y/N chewed on her lip. “Visiting and living are two different things.”
“We’ll come back here all the time,” Edmund promised. “Every time I visit, you’ll come with me to come see your brothers and your father.”
“But what about your siblings? What if they don’t want a sister-in-law?”
Edmund sent her a reproachful look. “Come on, my family loves you. You’ll fit right in.”
“But what will I do?”
“What will you do with what?”
She gestured loosely. “With my life.”
“You can do whatever you want.” She scoffed, and he scrambled to amend his statement. “You can do what you do every day here, just…over there.” Edmund should’ve started doubting himself under the rapidly rising incredulity on Y/N’s face, but how could he doubt this plan? To have Y/N with him in Narnia? They could play chess every day, and Y/N could tend a garden. All the royal events would be immensely more tolerable with her on his arm, and she wouldn’t have to hide behind a tapestry to know what was going on. Meanwhile, Rabadash would return to Tashbaan without another wife at his side.
It was perfect, and Y/N’s hesitation was making less and less sense.
“But we would be husband and wife,” Y/N said slowly and clearly.
A smidge of Edmund’s conviction warped into confusion. “…yes, that’s the idea.”
“No, I mean…” Y/N dropped her gaze to their clasped hands and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly like she was trying to make the air last forever. “What if…what if you fell in love with someone else? What if there was someone you wanted to marry…and you couldn’t, because you married me?” She looked up at him, and the deep pink of her cheeks worried him. “What about children? Do you want children? Because there’s a very, um…specific way…children are had.”
Edmund felt his own cheeks flush. This was most certainly not an appropriate topic between two unmarried people of opposite genders, which Y/N knew or she wouldn’t have hesitated or stammered.
“That is what I mean by husband and wife,” Y/N said gently. “If we did this, you’d be saving me now but cheating yourself later.”
Edmund couldn’t believe her amount of foresight. He was on the verge of running to King Loon to ask for Y/N’s hand in marriage, yet here Y/N was, the one in actual peril, who was stopping to think about the distant future.
He took a moment to think about what she was saying, to consider the validity of her concerns. He couldn’t imagine ever regretting this, but there were a hundred what-ifs tangled in this plan. They could talk for days and still not mention every possibility of this arrangement. But the uncertainty was a small price to pay given the alternative.
“I don’t have it all figured out,” Edmund admitted. “There’s a great deal we’d have to talk about.” He licked his lips. “But I’m willing to talk. We will find a way to make it work, I know we will, but right now, we don’t have time to iron out every detail.”
Y/N gnawed her lip, looking stressed.
“Do you trust me?” Edmund asked.
“Yes,” Y/N said, without missing a beat.
Her immediate confidence made Edmund feel like he could fly, and he had to take a moment to calm himself before continuing. “I believe this is the best way forward. Are you willing to try it?” Y/N searched his face, her eyes glistening with tears. Whether they were tears of anxiety, horror, anger, relief, Edmund didn’t know. “Y/N, please,” he begged.
Y/N swallowed. “Okay.”
It was such a simple word, but Edmund had never heard it said so heavy before.
“Okay.” Edmund straightened his top. “I’m going to go talk to your father.”
Y/N nodded mutely, her gaze lowering to one of the buttons of his shirt.
Edmund hesitated, wondering if he should say more but also scared the tears in her eyes might fall. “Are you…are you okay?”
“I’m worried,” Y/N whispered. “There’s so much that could go wrong.” Edmund’s heart sank. Was he forcing her into this? Was he no better than Rabadash? In his attempt to relieve her of a burden, had he simply exchanged it for another one?
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright like the sun. “But I’m so grateful.”
Edmund stared down at her, transfixed by her shining face. As he watched, her lips spread into a small smile, and he was seized with a sudden urgency he didn’t understand. His brain was screaming at him to do something without telling him what that something was.
His legs shuffled closer to Y/N without his brain’s authorization, and he half expected her to step away.
She didn’t. Instead, she tilted her chin up so she could still look into Edmund’s face.
Why didn’t she step away? He was too close to her. He knew it, and she knew it, and neither of them were stepping away. If Edmund had all his mental faculties, he’d be able to read the subtext, but her perfume…
And her eyes…
Was that a tiny scar on the underside of her chin? He’d never seen it before. Where had it come from? How old was it? He longed to ask and hear the answer, but he was afraid. For him to know where all her scars came from, and for her to know where all of his came from, it was a different kind of confidentiality.
A confidentiality Edmund didn’t feel ready for and wasn’t sure he ever would.
And yet, confidentiality or not, they would soon be in a chapel, in front of many people, swearing to love forever.
Reminded of his plan, Edmund shut his eyes and took a deliberate step back. “I have to go talk to your father.”
Y/N nodded, also taking a step back. “I’d ask if you want me to come with you, but…” she trailed off.
They both knew King Loon would respond better to hearing from Edmund alone.
“This is the right thing to do,” Edmund said as he walked over to the door to go find the king. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Y/N, but she’d turned back to face the window, her silhouette standing out from the light of the sun streaming in through the windows. “You won’t regret it,” he said softly.
He prayed to Aslan that was true.
-
Part 5
Overall tag list:
@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers
White Moves First tag list: @thelifeofsecretpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen
#narnia#chronicles of narnia#edmund#edmund fanfic#edmund fanfiction#king edmund#king edmund the just#jealous#jealousy#arranged marriage trope#narnia fanfic#narnia fanfiction#chess#friends to lovers#arranged marriage
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NFE 2023 - Quick Update
As many of you know already, AO3 is down due to a DDoS attack. What this means for the NFE community is that people can't access the site to sign up to participate in this year's NFE.
Originally sign ups were going to close tomorrow, Wednesday, July 12th. We will be extending the sign up time for the exchange; however, until AO3 is back up, we can't do that. All times/deadlines will be changed based on this, but for the moment we're in a holding pattern. Once AO3 is back, we'll update with changes for sign ups, etc.
Thanks for you patience, and please remember to stay off AO3 while they work to resolve the issue.
#narnia fic exchange#nfe 2023#AO3#narnia fic#narnia fanfiction#narnia fanfic#fanfic exchange#fanfiction exchange
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