#CASPIAN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heliads · 1 year

Note

Ok so I saw how you said you wanted to write for narnia in your request guidelines so, imagine if you will:

Reader and Caspian with a sort of rivals to friends to lovers. Charting the transition from "My prince" (Sarcastic) to "My prince" (playfull, joking) to eventually "MY prince" (loving). Hope this makes sense, lots of love <3

when people check the request guidelines <333 also this request was so good that i had the people vote upon it. soldier reader for the win

masterlist

You’re not sure what makes you more angry, the fact that you broke your sword or that the prince was there to see it. If it were not enough of a ruination to your day to have your blade break in half like a child’s wooden toy, if it were not enough to have to retreat through the storms of other fights and clashing metal and skulk to the background to get another, you were witnessed by the one person you detest most of all.

You should not be hating Prince Caspian. He just makes it rather easy to do so. He is the physical embodiment of this world, the crown on high, the savior of your every waking hour, all because he happened to be born into the right family at the right time. It is not his fault that he is one of the most powerful men in all of Narnia, but it is not the result of his labor, either. He is simply the prince, and there is nothing more to say on the matter.

That is quite different from you, then. You had to claw your way up through the ranks, sacrificing skin and sweat so you could eke out a win time and time again. Your trials served you well, gilding your brow with the title of captain of the guard, but it wasn’t like anything was handed to you. No, not at all. Yet, by virtue of his predestined position, Caspian technically has control over every soldier in Narnia. He outranks all of your efforts by the crown put on his head when he was just an infant.

This is the way of the world, and the way that it has always been. It makes no sense for you to hate him so fervently over something he cannot control. Caspian is an easy scapegoat, though, a figurehead for you to heap your regrets upon like laurels. It is not his fault that he was made prince. It is not his fault that you despise him for being one.

You’ve had time to grow accustomed to your life of blood and sweat, however, and today should have been no different. This morning was an amalgamation of at least a dozen different mistakes, though, and that ruined your day before it hardly even started. You woke up a little too late, you snapped at your friends then regretted it half a second later, and now you’ve gone and broken your blade, too.

It wasn’t your best weapon, at least that counts for something. Your finest sword is your most prized possession, and lies in careful hiding back in your quarters. This was merely your practice weapon, one designed to be battered and beaten all in the means of furthering the skills of you and your men.

Still, it stings to see it lying on the dusty ground of the training yard, shiny metal fragments already beginning to cloud over with grime. You sigh, signaling to your partner that you’ll have to abandon the match for now, and carefully pick up the pieces. When you stand, cradling the shards of your sword like a child, you look up and see Caspian of all people staring at you from across the training yard. Evidently he’s arrived just to see your sword fail.

Wonderful timing as always from him. You have to marvel at how he does it. You half think Caspian carefully plans his excursions into the swordsman's arenas when he believes you to be least ready to see him. You meet his gaze for a moment longer, then turn, heading back towards the rows of equipment on the far side of the yard.

You murmur at least half a dozen curses as you go, running them over your tongue like a prayer. The broken pieces of your sword can be turned into the armorer in the hopes that something will become of them, but you highly doubt that. In the meantime, you’ll have to dig up the coin to buy yourself a new sword, and risk damaging your primary weapon in the meantime. How splendid.

A voice sounds from behind you, one that makes you grit your teeth despite the soothing intonations. “You know, if you’re stabbing our own men so hard your weapon shatters, I’m afraid to see what you’ll do to our enemies.”

You grimace to yourself, then turn around to face Caspian, expression resolute. “Fear not, my prince, your men will be spared from me today. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to break swords when a battle arises.”

Caspian arches a brow, perhaps at the tone you direct towards his title. “If you speak with that much thrill over the thought of war, I’m beginning to fear that you may not be my best advisor regarding the maintenance of peace.”

As if he’d ever listen to you long enough to consider you an advisor. The two of you snap at each other’s throats every time you get within shouting range. “Perhaps I just like a chance to fight.”

“I think I’ve noticed that,” Caspian murmurs, bemused.

It takes great strength to keep from glaring at him, strength that fails you by the second. “You’ll have to excuse me, I must go to the blacksmith for repairs.”

His face falls. “You won’t be continuing in the ring today? I had hoped to best you yet again.”

His lips quirk up as he says it, making the insult lose some of its barb, but it still makes your temper flare. “I’m afraid not. Blades are not as easily bought by soldiers as princes, I must see if I can salvage this one before going to the trouble of a purchase.”

Caspian seems half a second of self control from rolling his eyes. “There are more swords in the yard, L/N. Simply select another and we can go for a round or two.”

He gestures towards the training yard expectantly, and you feel the weight of your difference in stations come crashing down around you. Caspian will not stop asking until you fight him, that is his birthright. He does not know what it means to be disobeyed. And, as the captain of his guard, you cannot argue. This you know to be true, even if Caspian is unaware of just how he’s wielding his influence. There is nothing you can do to circumvent him.

You force your expression to go icily cold, devoid of any and all emotion. Even the anger, which was sparking through you so readily before, vanishes from your disposition. Caspian blinks in surprise at the sudden change, more so when you abruptly drop the pieces of your broken blade to the ground, where they send up a small storm of dust.

“Of course,” you say, even-syllabled, “how could I ever think to do anything else? Your word is my command, my prince.”

You pack as much loathing as possible into those syllables. Caspian flinches as if you’ve hit him, and then his confidence is gone, his eyes downcast. “If you don’t want to–” He begins in a whisper, but you’re already moving briskly towards the rows of extra blades.

“I most certainly want to,” you answer him, the borrowed blade seeming to cut into your hand despite the smooth leather grip, “you have asked, and that is all the motivation I should ever need.”

Caspian swallows hard, opens his mouth to say something, but you swing your blade at his head before he can manage it. This is utterly wrong behavior for a soldier towards a prince, but Caspian has never seemed to have a problem with your actions before, no matter how challenging. It’s as if both of your prides are so strong that they could overcome any class barrier set in your way.

Caspian barely parries your sword before it cuts into his head. Grunting with effort, he twists his weapon, forcing you to step back as he disengages, striking towards you in return. Seizing the opportunity, Caspian presses his advantage, taking a few quick steps and maneuvering the two of you further into the training yard and into the designated spaces for fighting.

Words are clearly still clinging to his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud, but this is no longer a place for conversation. It takes everything in you to counter his attacks, to spot when he’s off balance and lunge with piercing precision towards every gap in Caspian’s defense. You may hate the dark-haired prince with every fiber of your being, but you cannot deny that he is skilled. He might be the only one here capable of providing a challenge to you. You might hate him even more for that, or worse, not at all.

Caspian feints to his left, then his right. You ignore both distractions and plunge your weapon straight towards his heart. Expecting your belligerence in regards to his ploys, Caspian parries the strike and returns it with one of his own. You move to take a quick sidestep, but the ground is slick beneath your feet with mud from yesterday’s rain and you stumble. It’s the slightest of missteps, but for someone at Caspian’s level, it is enough.

He lunges forward, and you feel the shadow of the stone wall on your back before he pushes you into it. The rock is cold against your back, driving the air from your lungs. You try to force your way towards the center of the yard again, but Caspian has his sword at your throat, and any movement would lead to you cutting your own neck.

Unwilling to yield quite yet, you stay silent. You and Caspian breathe in and out, the deep gasps for air first discordant and then slowly, steadily, joining in a shared rhythm.

Caspian speaks first, you know he’s been waiting for it. “You hate me.”

You scoff. “You hate me. This is not an exclusive feeling.”

He exhales harshly, exasperated. “Stop deflecting everything onto me. We could have been friends.”

You laugh, tilting your head back to give him a better chance to slit your throat. “You are a prince. I would never have been anything but nothing to you.”

Caspian’s eyes widen. He moves away from you unsteadily, first closer than he’s ever been, then gone, halfway across the yard in what feels like just a second. You let your eyes shudder closed, exhausted from the intensity of the fight but perhaps something more as well. When you open your lids, he is gone. He had just arrived, but he is nowhere to be seen now. That could be no one’s fault but yours. He is not your friend. But. He could be so, so much more.

Three days later, a gift arrives in your quarters. You unwrap the cloth bindings to reveal a sword nestled within the folds. You can tell at once that it has been perfectly selected for you– the heft is just right for your level of strength, the grip matches your hands exactly, and the edges are razor sharp, ideal for those slashes towards the forearms you’ve been so fond of as of late.

It comes swathed in a rich purple cloth, the sort of color you’ve only ever seen decorating Caspian’s frame as he walks with his troops or speaks to his nobles. An angrier, more bitter part of you wants to reject the gift entirely, to toss it from your room like refuse or return it back to him at once. Still, it is a fine blade, and you know that were you to just pick it up, it would feel exactly right, an extension of your arm into shining metal.

So, the sword joins the rest of your collections, and the purple linen ends up tucked away in your desk, carefully folded into a neat square of color and creases. You cannot explain why you do either, not even to yourself.

The next time you’re called out with your regiment to guard the prince and some foreign powers on a diplomatic mission, the sword is on your belt, your hand resting on its hilt. Caspian sees and something changes in his expression; a deepening of a smile, a pleased spark in his eyes. For some reason, you cannot hate him for being proud. Not today.

He finds you later, once the crowds have dispersed and he doesn’t have to be a prince, just a man. “What a fine sword that is,” he remarks pleasantly.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t. Don’t even.”

Caspian spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about.”

“You had better not,” you grumble.

He nods solemnly. “Of course. Just a random thought, however, it really is a nice blade. It must have been picked out by an exceedingly good swordsman. Perhaps even the best in the castle.”

You should be irritated with him for being so bothersome again. Instead, you find yourself fighting a smile. “It’s a shame, then, that the only swordsman here worth his salt is me.”

Caspian’s mouth drops comically. “That cannot be true.”

“It is,” you reply as casually as you can, “I come to you with only the best information, my prince. Only the best.”

He starts to respond, but something stops him, something that makes him smile quietly. Your stomach flips with the unsettling feeling of having missed out on a joke, but for once, you don’t entirely mind it. Instead, the two of you walk all the way back to the castle, and only when the diplomats arrive again must you be parted. It is not the worst use of your time.

Caspian finds you again two nights later. You’re on a shift guarding a section of the castle walls, which gives you an excellent view of the foreign powers riding away into the darkness. They’ve been here for days now, testing Caspian’s patience like no one else, not even you.

He joins you soon enough, exhaustedly leaning his arms up against the stone battlements. “I think I hate politics,” he murmurs into the night air.

You chuckle, the quiet sound abnormally loud in the darkness. It should make you self conscious, and it does, but not as much as it would for anyone else. The hot prick of awareness in your stomach is both doubly strong and doubly weak because you are next to Caspian; why, you cannot explain, but it is true.

“You are a prince,” you point out, “politics was always something you would have to do.”

Caspian groans. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. That’s why I always envied you, you know. You got to carry the banner and fight the battles without any political conniving.”

You stare at him in shock. “That cannot be true. No future king could ever want to be a mere soldier.”

He laughs derisively. “As if you’ve ever been a mere soldier. Not to me,” he adds on afterthought, and you’re not sure that it was even meant for your ears, “no, not to me.”

You shake your head slowly. “But I thought you hated me. All this time, you’ve merely wanted to join me in fighting without a care?”

Caspian’s brow furrows. “Hate you? No, no. I never hated you. I never could hate you.”

He straightens up, slowly walking over to you. There is no one else on the castle wall to see you, no one below. Even still, your eyes feel like more than enough of an audience to find some reason to stop this before the pounding in your heart blocks out your ability to breathe properly.

“My prince,” you say, a warning. It doesn’t make him flinch like it used to, a blow grown familiar, worn down to the weight of a feather instead of that of a blade.

Caspian sighs, the listless air leaving him and vanishing just as quickly on the wind. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted this. That you’ve never thought about it.”

“I couldn’t,” you whisper, and something in you cracks in half when his face falls, “but you could.”

Caspian’s eyes dart cautiously up to you again. “Are you sure?”

Neither of you have to specify what he means for you to know. “Yes,” you breathe.

You did not anticipate this night to end with you kissing the crown prince of Narnia. That being said, you would not want to have it any other way. There may be foreign dignitaries out there plotting the end of his reign, or political turmoils present to claim most of his time, but tonight, Caspian is yours and yours alone. It makes you smile into him. It makes everything that much better.

narnia tag list: empty for now!

2K notes · View notes

aubeezz · 2 months

Text

Where ‼️ is lil bro off to ⁉️

#my art #oc #Caspian #pixel art #pixal test

210 notes · View notes

ego-osbourne · 2 months

Text

Bastard Sheogorath Doodle Page

I hate him

Featuring Caspian, Haskill, and Jyggalag

Thank you to @bforblitz and @kururu666 for making these possible, minimal context below

#sheogorath #Haskill #Jyggalag #Caspian #tes #tesblr #tes art #Daedra #Daedric prince #altmer #Thalmor #mortal intentions #salt in the wound #sitw #tesiv #f slur

123 notes · View notes

emptyjunior · 6 months

Text

Did you guys knows that Prince Caspian the Seafarer, Caspian the Navigator, Tenth of his name, rightful King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel and Emperor of The Lone Islands is actually like my best friend actually

#narnia #art #fanart #Prince Caspian #caspian #books #movies #chronicles of narnia

227 notes · View notes

vinnieswife · 11 months

Text

She’s not you

Peter Pevensie x fem! reader

words: 1,8 k

warnings: smut!, fingering, oral (fem!receiving)

Peter was lying on the sofa in his flat, spending the evening watching the new Hobbit trilogy, when he heard the door open and close again.

You came in sighing. It was so typical. You didn't know how you did it, but you always manage to pick the wrong person. After tossing the keys into the container by the front door, you made your way to the living room.

"You're home already?" Peter didn't pretend to be happy about that.

You rolled your eyes and plopped down on the couch next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Why do I always hang out with idiots Pete? Why can't everyone be like you?”

Peter laughed humbly. "I don't know." He lifted his arm, and you quickly snuggled into him kicking off your shoes. "What are we watching?"

"The Hobbit."

You nodded and relaxed, grabbed a blanket and covered your body and Peter's "Marie left already?"

Peter covered his legs before sighing. "She didn't come," he admitted. You looked up from your position, your face full of confusion.

"Peter Pevensie" Peter was sitting across from you. With one arm on the back of the couch and one leg propped up against the couch, you couldn't help but smile. "Oh no, my full name," he said, pretending to be scared.

"I can't believe it! You could have made a move," you scolded him, and he scowled with a laugh "What's so funny?".

"Y/n... I don't want to make a move. "

"Why, she's beautiful!" Peter laughed again, scratching his neck lightly before shrugging. "I don't even like her that much”

In case you didn't know, Peter's heart was pounding in his ears right now. This will be the end of your friendship; God you and Peter have been friends since the crib and he would rather repress his feelings than be nothing. "You'll never get a girlfriend if you go on like this, Pevensie! What's the matter with her?"

It was the drop that filled the glass.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just that she's not you" Your eyes widened like plates; did he really say that?. Suddenly you realised how closely the two of you were sitting together. You were still leaning on his arm. The warmth of his skin seeped through his torso and touched the exposed skin of your back. Your whole body shuddered under his gaze, your throat so dry you couldn't swallow the lump that had formed in your throat. "Don't lie to me," he regretted saying that.

"I'm not," Peter replied quietly. All confidence left him. He regretted what he said. They both stood in silence for a while, trying to figure out what had happened. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked.

Peter sighed and clenched his jaw. "I guess I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I would have had to find somewhere else to live, and the atmosphere would have been uncomfortable" He adjusted his seat and looked down. "Like now."

"You're stupid," he laughed. You took a deep breath before continuing. "I've loved you since we were little, Peter."

His head snapped up. Now he was the one who was surprised. "You, what?" You nodded, confirming that what you just said was true. "You were seeing someone else, I thought you didn't like me."

Peter gulped. The air in the room changed. You could feel the heat under your skin, like someone had turned up the heat. You were still looking at Peter trying to see if you were joking. It was a joke, wasn't it? You took a deep breath. It didn't lead anywhere. You clearly weren't the type of girl to make the first move, but this was different. It was Peter. And you'd do anything for him.

One of your hands moved over his arm before placing it behind his neck. You approach him hesitantly, but Peter knew you to well, and he just leaned in to meet you lips.

You kissed me a couple of times and it all felt the same. This was wrong. It was full of love and adoration and the sweet taste of it amazed them both. But there was something else. Passion surged and took my breath away. You didn't expect Peter to kiss like this. His hand moved to your hip, pulling you closer as his kiss became more artful.

You climb onto his lap caressing his face. Peter holds you tighter. His fingers pressed against your skin, digging into the fabric of his high-waisted jeans. You practically writhed under his grip, your body pressed against his chest as you kissed, both of your minds filled with dirty thoughts.

After waiting so long, you couldn't wait to get there because the opportunity really did come. "God, y/n". You gave him a breathtaking smile before slowly pulling his shirt off.

Peter grabbed you around the waist again and pulled you closer as he began to kiss your neck. Your hand ran down his chest, tugging at his shirt, running your hand under the fabric, caressing his warm skin, feeling the taut muscles of his abdomen. He kissed your collarbone as you whispered and moaned. His lips were still kissing your skin, moving slowly over your bare breasts.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to do that." He towered over you, supporting her weight in his arms, staring down at you and pulling her to you. You couldn't believe he was really kissing you.

"Are you going to keep your eyes on me or kiss me again?" you bite your lip and smile as you look into his eyes.

He gasped and moved closer. When he pressed his lips against yours again, his hips almost crashed against yours, making you let out a choked moan. Your hands moved over his skin, down the hem of his trousers, he lets you slide your fingers under the fabric and he moaned as you begin to plan him through his trousers.

The air in the room was overwhelming , and it was burning your skin. They were already panting, gasping for kisses, devouring each other with a hunger to kill each other.

You push Peter up and reach into your tight jeans, but he grabs your hand and stops you from undoing the top button. You held your breath, waiting impatiently for Peter to finish what he had started. His hands moved painfully slowly, caressing your spread thighs, thumbs digging into your clothed skin, making you squirm before unbuttoning and unzipping your trousers. "Lift your hips for me, my dear," he murmured, concentrating more on his actions than his words. Now, you lay on the couch beneath him, wearing nothing but a pair of black panties, and you saw his expression darken, biting his lip again.

All right. "Good girl." Peter looked sophisticated and different. Flattering and seductive was a new side of him. After all, the sweet, shy boy had a dark side.

His hand stroked your leg again, you felt the goose bumps on your skin, and when his hand finally reached the edge of his black underwear, you couldn't help but gasp as you shivered. Peter looked up, finally met your gaze and leaned down to kiss you again. His kiss travelled down your body, hitting the sweet spots on your collarbone, your sternum and down your abdomen, leaving a wet trail that made you shiver.

You stood up and reached up to pull Peter closer to you. You kissed and sucked on his neck as you felt your underwear slip completely off your legs. You started touching his trousers again, feeling his erection under the fabric. "don't tease" Peter growled, gently but firmly pushing you back on the couch as you made another mark on his skin.

Your lower belly was tense, waiting to be touched and tended to. When his lips brushed the inside of hers, you moaned and felt a kind of relief and frustration at the same time. So you didn't want him to kiss you.

"Peter," you whisper, closing your eyes and concentrating on the feel of his lips against your skin. Your head dropped back onto the pillow, your hands gripped the edge of the wide couch and you felt his tongue caress your aching clit. You hadn't had sex in a long time. Peter loved teasing you about that.

He began to move slowly, up and down and side to side, deftly turning you into a moaning mess beneath him. And when you felt one of his fingers slide inside you, you couldn't even think anymore. All you were thinking about was him, Peter.

And he pushed you over the edge. A current of pleasure exploded in your lower stomach, and the knots that formed exploded, clinging to Peter's blond hair. "Fuck" you moaned, "I'm about to-" Peter laughed, wiped his mouth with his palm and said, "Your room or mine?" he asked with a grin. Now you're skin to skin, completely exposed.

"I don't care, just fuck me."

He took you to the next room. Lying quickly on the bed, he gently laid you down and jumped on top of you. Mocking your gentleness, he looked down at your face and saw your face pucker with pleasure and a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Peter, if you don't start fucking me now, I'll do it myself" With a thrust he filled you and paused to give you time to adjust to his size. When he was sure he wasn't going to hurt you, he pulled back almost all the way before thrusting his hips into you.

It was simply heaven. It had to be. His movements quickened as he realized his hands were taking advantage of your hips, pressing your body into the mattress and plunging you into oblivion.

"Look, you're taking me so well," he said, panting heavily. His eyes were on your face, his blue eyes and messy hair made him stunning.

You felt your lower abdomen tighten again and you let Peter know you were close again, but so did he. His thrust became unsteady and he held his weight by clinging to the headboard. Both jumped off the cliff at almost the same time.

Peter sank to the mattress, rested his head on the corner of your neck and took a deep breath. He was still clinging to the headboard and didn't want to crush you with his weight, but you didn't mind.... Panting, you gently stroked his neck.

You had no words to say. We both knew how we felt. Rising slowly, Peter got up and went to the closet. He pulled a shirt and black boxer shorts out of his wardrobe and handed you the shirt as you sat down.

Peter grabbed you again, pulled you tight against his chest and pulled the sheets over the two of you. "y/n?" he finally said.

"Huh?"

"Thank God your date went wrong”

400 notes · View notes

catmingi · 6 months

Text

is it better to speak or to die?

The way he addressed Edmund.. "Ed" ❤️‍🔥

#artists on tumblr #tumblr #tumblr archive #casmund #caspian x edmund #edmund pevensie #prince caspian #caspian x #caspian #king edmund #skandar keynes #ben barnes #narnia chronicles voyage of the dawn treader #narnia #the chronicles of narnia

186 notes · View notes

sinful-sindy-art · 2 months

Text

Sketchiessss

@aubeezz

#art #drawing #sketch #digital art #oc #Ryujin #Caspian #yttd keiji

84 notes · View notes

kattab0x · 10 months

Text

Two versions because I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to keep the crown or not 😅

#edmund pevensie #narnia #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #prince caspian #susan pevensie #caspian #edmund pevensie art #king caspian #narnia art #skandar keynes

270 notes · View notes

doovild · 24 days

Text

them too cause thy my lil babies caspian belongs to @aubeezz

#my art #dont steal my shit #glitter #gift #caspian

97 notes · View notes

ae--r-a · 1 month

Text

tagged by @elderwisp, ty you so much much ♥ comic or concept of what love is (i think, i kinda forgot but took screenshot of what I remembered)

Saoirse and Caspian

love is:

spending time together in the kitchen

reading his favourite book while he soaks in the tub and only getting in once the water is almost cold

dressing up and spending a romantic evening at home sharing a bowl of pasta and getting stupid drunk ♥♥♥

i'm going to tagg, @autumnserenade, @capptrash, @flovoid, @madfeary, @gamyrmaiden and anyone else who really wants to do this.

#ts4 #tag thingy #what love is #sorry i saw this last week #and kind of forgot what it was about #but wanted to do it #so i did #lol #saoirse #caspian

122 notes · View notes

0bianidalas · 3 months

Text

I vowed not to fight anymore if we survived the Great War

#caspeter #narniaedit #narniagifs #caspian #peter pevensie #caspian x #caspian x peter #gifshit #IM ON A NARNIA MOOD SUE ME

92 notes · View notes

cyberball · 8 months

Text

cair paraval

caspian x reader / no pronouns used / not rq

warnings: a couple swears, physical touch (as in not 18+ but still), mention of the word 'dress' but you can interpret that as any type of dress really

summary: you decide to reminisce on a select few memories of the beach at cair paraval in your room, one morning.

genre: yes it is fluffy but there's some slow burn/yearning thing going on, allusion to a modern!au in narnia, although u can assume it’s the same

notes: cyberball comeback! *crickets* anyway this is my highest word count thus far. ben barnes is actually fatal cuz now I'm obsessed with a character from my CHILDHOOD who I completely forgot even existed. alas, here we are, because caspian is a very very close second to Leo valdez, and I'm head over heels for that man. all this is to say, this will probably not be the last caspian fic and who knows, maybe I'll figure sth out for peter n ed as well!!! anyway enjoy i hope u like it

11:03 | 2896 words

11:45 AM

The spring breeze brushes against your face, and your eyes close in appreciation. From your balcony, the beach of Cair Paraval looks stunning; clear blue waters and a high tide to match. You let your thoughts linger on all the nights you’ve spent on said beach with a certain king of Narnia. You almost get up to try to find him, but you sit back down, realizing he must be busy. Your memories will have to sustain you for now.

4:23 AM – 1 month ago

Caspian’s hand came up to brush his hair out of his face for what seemed like the hundredth time that night – the sea breeze was relentless. You silently laughed at his efforts, as he leaned back into you, having given up on trying to tame his hair. His tall frame had somehow managed to sit snugly in between your legs, Caspian’s head resting on your chest. You were leaning against an enormous oak tree, the leaves swaying in tandem with the wind.

“Get up, you big goof,” you said, rolling your nightshirt’s sleeves up, determined to help him with his hair. He looked back at you for just a second before obeying your command. You loved his hair either way but you could tell it was annoying him right about now.

“What, you don’t like the unruly look my hair has taken on?” He asked, sitting up properly. You shook your head in amusement and looked away under his glance, pretending to look around for the clip you always kept on you, in case a predicament like this arose.

You gathered a little of his hair and tied it in place with the clip, letting a few pieces in the front fall out. The half-up-half-down look was his and your favorite.

He rested his head back onto your shoulder, looking ahead, the two of you still sitting. You had a ritual wherein you took one night each week to watch the sunrise. Now, even as the sun slowly woke up, the Narnian night sky glittered with tens of stars, and you wished you could look into his eyes. The black always reflected the light perfectly.

You two had been dating for about 2 weeks now. Caspian was your best friend and the person you trusted the most. Back when all you could think of on nights like these was your imagination of what it would feel like to have his lips against yours, looking into his eyes was a gesture far too intimate for two friends to share.

But now that it was a reality, you moved him off your shoulder and moved forward, so now you were facing him. On instinct, he picked you up by your thighs and placed you on his lap. Giggling, you took his stubble-covered face in your hands. After staring into your eyes for a length of time most people would find uncomfortable, he looked up at the sky. And there it was; the sky condensed into his eyes. He looked back up at you, and you couldn’t help but kiss him. You wondered how you ever lived without knowing the taste of his lips.

5:09 PM – 3 months ago

The sun filtered through your hair as you managed to push through it. It was setting, and the horizon looked particularly capturing today; pink and orange clouds shielding its light. Speaking of the sun, unbeknownst to you, yours had come up behind the spot you had claimed on the sand. Placing a kiss on your head – and consequently making butterflies fly around in your stomach – Caspian took the place next to you, as he often did.

More often, he’d only made rare appearances in your solitude, as the mantle of being king had taken its toll on his free time. You had found yourself reminiscing on the time when every other free second you both had, you would spend with each other. You would train together as well, and while that hadn’t necessarily stopped, he had significantly less time to do so. So you missed it, and you missed the close contact, where you could pass off the hitched breaths and stuttering glances as something other than what they were.

Caspian was your best friend. Nothing more, although you found yourself coveting the same. You don’t quite remember when it changed; when the way you looked at him turned from friendly appreciation to lingering on his smile. You felt that maybe he felt the same when he’d make you laugh and then drink in your reaction; when you showed him a new dress and his gaze lingered on you for far more time than was needed to look at the dress; when, a few days ago, you were playing with his hair, as you often did, and he unabashedly stared at your lips; and even now, when he kissed your head and instinctually rested his hand on yours. His thumb caressed your palm, and you had to physically restrain yourself from melting onto the beach.

At least then you could be washed away with the sea. You could feel his gaze on you. “What, idiot?” You asked him, not turning to look at him, a playful smile playing on your lips. “That’s no way to address your king,” he replied smoothly with a smirk of his own. You wanted to wipe it right off his stupid, pretty face.

As happy as you were with his presence next to you, you didn’t forget how your getaways to the beach were much frequent just you now instead of you both. “Sorry, Your Majesty,” you muttered sarcastically. You winced as his face fell at your tone, immediately regretting your words, knowing how he literally had no time for anything other than his duties. You couldn’t be mad at him for that. He beat you to the apology, “I am sorry. I know I have seen you less and less these past few weeks, and it’s not an excuse, merely a reason, but my work as king has taken up most if not all my time. Regardless, I could have made time for you. Aslan knows you’re much more important to me than anything else,” he spoke the last words under his breath, but you caught them.

You both had talked about this before – how much you meant to each other – but every time he brought it up, your heart beat just a little bit faster. “Cas, don’t be sorry. I know you’re busy and it’s selfish of me to be mad at you for that. I’m sorry,” you replied, looking away. “You’re not being selfish. You’re the least selfish person I know. You’ve done nothing wrong here,” he said softly, pushing your hair behind your ears. A hue of red dusted your cheeks at the gesture and you smiled up at him, “It’s okay, Cas,” you assured him and noticed his eyes crinkling at the nickname, “Just promise to meet me whenever you can,” you said, playing with his fingers. “Yes, I know, I will use all my free time on you. You don’t have to tell me twice,” he says, a glint in his eyes. You laughed amusedly, “You’re a good king, you know,” and he searched your eyes for any sign of a lie. He didn’t find it, even behind your teasing tone. “Just because I dedicated my free time to you?” he questioned and you pretended to think, “Hmm… yes.” Laughing

, you rested your head on his shoulder. You were happy to have him, even if your affections could only be as intimate as best friends.

2:58 AM – 2 months ago

You had just made a particularly hilarious joke, and Caspian had been laughing about it for what seemed like ages. “My god, calm down,” you managed to say through your own laughter, and he silently brought his forehead down to your shoulder, his own shoulders shaking from laughter.

After finally calming down, he said, “Never do that again,” a smile still brilliant on his face, despite the dim moonlight filtering through the clouds. “What, never make you laugh again?” you grinned, sucking your teeth, “sounds like a challenge to me. I’m too funny,” you joked, running your hand through your hair. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Caspian roll his eyes at you, and you wordlessly shoved him for it.

“That cloud looks like your hair in the morning,” you pointed out, gesturing to a cloud by the sea line. Caspian looked at you with an unamused face, “Ha-ha. Very funny,” he replied deadpan, but a grin eventually broke out on his face.

A long, comfortable silence stretched out between the two of you. You carefully rested your head on his shoulder and tried to take this for what it was: two friends enjoying each other’s company, and not letting your thoughts wander to a hope where maybe, someday, you could be more than that. Because it could never be. Caspian did a great job of reminding you of the fact when he piped up, “Today was sort of terrible,” and in response, you looked up at him through your lashes, beckoning him to continue. “The court is back at it with the marriage proposals and potential alliances,” he explained, and your heart dropped.

Oh. “Any of the potential matches interest you?” you questioned, silently hoping the answer was no. Regardless, you braced yourself for the impact, but he replied, very softly, might one add, “No,” and ran a hand through his hair. “Really?” you asked in an unamused tone, “none of them?” you were a tad bit eager to know his true feelings. So he pointed it out, “Desperate, are we? Why do you want to see me married off so quickly?” he asked, a smirk playing on his annoyingly pretty face. There was a sort of desperation in his eyes that you didn’t quite catch, however.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” you teased, “Curse me for wanting to see my king happy,” and rolled your eyes. “And anyway, it’s quite the opposite,” you muttered under your breath, sure that he wouldn’t hear it, but he did.

Fuck. He understood what you meant by it as well; he always did, and now he looked at you with something newfound in his eyes. Shit.

Silence. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“That is the last thing that would make me happy,” he finally spoke, and you silently sent up a prayer to whichever god let him ignore whatever you had said.

“And what would?” you asked, a teasing tone in your voice, but you both knew you genuinely wanted to know. Were you a possibility?

He didn’t reply. You chuckled softly and slightly shoved him, “What? I asked you something,” you said, still giggling. Your laughter had brought a smile to his face and you wanted to evaporate.

He took one of your hands and started absentmindedly playing with your fingers, as he often did. “I just… it’s a little funny to me how many times I’ve asked you that same question and you’ve not responded,” he confessed, black eyes staring you down, and then moving away when you hesitated in responding. “We tell each other everything,” a pause, “Right?” he asked, and hundreds of unsaid feelings poured into the small gap between you two, which he was slowly but surely closing. All the while his hands were still on yours, and you wondered if this was it. The day you finally get to call him yours, or the day you part ways.

“Caspian…” was all you managed, a little choked. Had his face always been so close to yours? You swore you could feel the beat of his eyelashes on your face, which was no doubt painted deep red right about now. It didn’t matter, because so was his.

You never knew eyes could speak like this – albeit, Caspian’s had always been able to, but never to this degree – begging, desperation, and hope, all in just two pupils. You literally were choked now; words had left you. You always told him, in matters of romance, you would never be able to make the first move. He had always laughed at that, the irony of you being such a bold and fearless person, yet being afraid of showing vulnerability like this. Although he himself could never chide you about that; both of you knew his stubbornness, especially in affairs of the heart.

He was not a daft man. A little oblivious, sure, but he knew the way you looked at him. You hadn’t tried to hide it either; in some masochistic way, even though you had your doubts about his feelings, you still wore yours on your face. You regretted it sometimes, when if he ended up listening to his court one day, then you would feel like a fool for putting your heart out on the line.

But so had he. Later on, you would realize that you were much more oblivious than him. He had half the decency to never completely assume that you were interested in him romantically, but he knew you. And you knew him.

So it made sense now to you. His lingering glances, especially those on your lips; the forehead kisses, which he had started a long time ago before you thought of him this way – however, they had grown much more frequent and much less chaste; and, oh. The words he said to you just a couple of days ago, lounging in his bed, your head in his lap, when you had joked about him being in love with you, “I’m not going to deny it.” You knew when he was joking. This was not such an instance, even though, immediately after, he tried to play it off as such. You knew it. Why hadn’t you said something?

Your name fell from his lips now, once more, a silent plea.

His lips ghosted over yours once more. You closed your eyes briefly, as you did when in a predicament, and exhaled hard.

Caspian sent up a prayer to whichever god would take it and made to connect your lips. You met him halfway.

You remember the first kiss like the back of your hand. You just about whimpered when his taste reached your tongue; the taste of the chocolate you both had snuck just a few minutes earlier was fresh on his lips. His rather large hands steadied you by your waist, and you still felt like crumbling by his touch.

A few seconds later, you pulled away reluctantly, out of breath. His eyes slowly fluttered open and his face was redder than you had ever seen it. You grinned and pecked his lips once more, and he felt your smile on him. It wasn’t a feeling he thought he’d ever experience.

Giddy, he mirrored your smile and kissed you harder than the last time.

“I knew you had a thing for me,” you said, right after he pulled away, breathless and smiling. “I’m not going to deny it,” he gloated, and you rested your forehead on his shoulder, laughing.

You were going to deal with the court some other day. It was just you and him right now.

11:56 AM – Present time

“Enjoying the weather, my love?” Caspian’s voice sounds out as his arms wrap around your torso. You slightly crane your head to look at him, shamelessly staring at his frame; simple white button-up, black pants. A rather handsome look on him.

“Your pick-up lines have always been terrible,” you remark, turning your head back around, a smirk on your face.

“And yet you were just checking me out,” he shoots back, resting his chin on the top of your head. You roll your eyes in response. “Checkmate?” he teases.

“Whatever. You can hardly blame me when you look this good,” you respond smoothly, turning around to face him while raising a hand to play with the ends of his hair.

“Have you seen yourself?” he says comfortably. His hands are resting easy on your hips and his gaze is on you, focused like you hung the stars in the sky. He always looks at you like this.

You shake your head, silently laughing, and crane your head to look out at the waters. It’s true that no one loves the sea quite like Caspian does, but that’s the very reason you appreciate it. His eyes light up when he talks of his adventures and voyages. Interestingly enough, there have only been two instances when the joie de vivre shines in his eyes; once when he thinks of the sea, and twice when he thinks of you. You’ve noticed it. The thought gets you giddy each time.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you. He places a kiss on your head and leans down to kiss your lips. Every time he does, it feels like the first time. Your eyes flutter close, and you notice something more in the way his lips move against yours. A message.

And then you realize.

Three words.

He pulls away, exhaling softly. A pause.

“I love you,” he says, your name on his lips like it always belonged there.

You waste no time. “I love you too, Caspian,” and he grins.

You mean it. And Aslan knows he means it too.

tagging: @noorie101 @padfootagain (one of my fav cas writers <3) — if u wanna be tagged please send in an ask!

211 notes · View notes