#two being I think he would pick up caspian’s love of the sea and his mother would take him stargazing as a child | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literameera · 3 years

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White Sails

2433 words

The oceans going to swallow him whole some day and only then could he die happy.

Caspian already gave his soul to the sea, his first great love. Initially I was excited for him and how he got to live out his dreams. He’d write to me about his exploits, I’d gasp and laugh when appropriate, as if he can see, and finally when the stories ended, I’d write to say that I’ve been living the same way: wake up, work, eat, sleep and mostly anticipate. He’d tease that I live like a widow refusing to believe her husband's dead, wasting away staring out the window, hoping for him to someday return to her. Like the ship of Theseus every time he left a part of him had been replaced, how long has he been a man I couldn't recognise, a ghost wearing my lover’s skin.

Only the wooden planks stepped on by Theseus himself belong to the original ship, the rest are imposters high off the glory of His name. Your skin cells regenerate every twenty-seven days – and it’s been longer than that since my hands held his, the wind already swept all memories of my words from his mind. He can only belong to one and she’s infinitely larger than me. To him, her cold embrace feels like coming home. It’s selfish – I’d remind myself – selfish to want to steal what makes him happy all because I feel lonely, he’s loved the ocean long before he’s loved me, and he will long after. I can only hope she’s kind when she does finally take him. I’ve heard that saltwater burns your lungs and that a body only sinks for a moment and as it fills with water it floats to the top, I don’t want them to find his body, he wouldn’t want them to either. I hope his clothes weigh him down and 80% becomes all of him, that he sinks to Atlantis and the sun never feels him again, we don’t deserve it.

But then he comes home, the wind in his hair, salt clinging to his skin and horribly chapped lips, he kisses me hello and I get a taste of what he feels. He tells me he’s missed the warm water from the shower while I wash his locks, that his land legs haven’t grown back yet so can I hold on just a little tighter ‘to make sure I don’t fall of course’. I tell him our neighbours' gossip and he laugh and gasps when appropriate and says that he’s missed the shop at the end of the street, in the morning he’ll grab groceries and those chocolates he’s loved since he was a kid, and some things never change. When it’s quiet and we lull we watch the sun set, sitting on a linoleum countertop in the kitchen, he glows orange in its light and tells me he’s missed me.

When a whale dies its body sinks to the benthic zone, there where there’s no sun, no blood, no heat, no me, or him the oceans creatures eat on its flesh, their entire life's sustenance reliant on an animal they’ve never seen alive and blobfish get their namesake feature from the rapid shift in pressure, they essentially burst while being pulled up by fishermen. The universe is kept spinning by forces we don’t know and can’t name and one day the sun could burst, and we wouldn’t know until 8 minutes later when its light should touch us and won’t. But it did that day, the light travelled through a solar system to shine on him, and shine on me, and that’s how we met. It was fate. Eight years later it’s still fate when Caspian wakes up beside me, his skin a warm brown, like the terracotta pots he brings back to accommodate my ever-growing garden, and his tousled hair a sun-bleached orange, the roots betray their natural umber colour (the same as the eyes he was currently hiding behind tired palms), men like him are born out of stardust, and they can’t help but to replicate its heat. He’s looking at me now, his warm hands place a stray strand of my own umber hair behind my ear and pauses on my cheek, my bronze skin a slight contrast to his, brown eyes reflecting brown.

‘Let’s go over the plan, alright Leya?’ He breaks the silence, ‘we’ll lock up, give the keys to Theo and Honora, they promised to water our plants and dust the place while we’re gone, we pick up your jumper from the market –Eilidh promised it’ll be done by then- and then it’s me, you and wherever you can land your finger on a map.’

‘Yeah, I can’t wait. Me, you and The Caspian’ the smile I give him falters and my bottom lip trembles. He frowns.

It was my idea to come with him, I was tired of being alone and he was tired of forgetting synonyms of vast for his letters home, I knew he exhausted all the ways to say I love you when he started to transcript theology to me:

‘They believe that next to Christ, that’s what they call him, there was a man that lived in sin, two in fact but only one of them matters. They don’t know anything about this man, not even his name, except for his last words. And they were that of forgiveness and salvation. A man whose entire history is left out of the book that chronicles it. We know nothing of his home, his family, his life, not even his crimes, but we know that he loved and was loved in return. I don’t believe a lick of it but by God these people are good storytellers.’

I did want to go. Maybe the second I see the flickering reflected crescent moon on the ocean waves I’d decide I never wanted to leave, that the past 25 years of living and four years waiting can all be justified by that one experience. But I also couldn’t just leave. He was the one with adventures and loose ties and sea salt, and I’m the one that waits. The diligent partner with a cup of tea and open arms for him, who were we if not that? Who am I without anticipation and loneliness? For years, my life was contingent on feeling and watching a ticking clock, and now I just get to be free? It doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound fair on the woman I used to be, the one still waiting. He knows how I feel, he must, from the furrow of an eyebrow I know he’s got me pegged.

‘Remember the night before I left- the first time that is- and I kept going over lists, obligations and checking everything twice, I even meal prepped your food for months in advance. And you told me everything will still be here when I get back...’ He pauses to hold my face in both hands, brown eyes locked on brown eyes to make sure I was listening, ‘everything will still be here when we get back. If you don’t want to go that’s fine, we won’t, I’ll spend the next six months right here with you, and every day after that if you want me to. I’m tired of you being alone. But if you do want to go... We lock up, see the world and come back, it’s that easy.’ With that he kisses my temple -the most delicate part of the head – and climbs out of bed.

Honora and Theo promised to give all the leftover perishable foods to the family around the corner, they have seven kids and not enough to feed them all. They also ensured once a week every plant will be watered, all letters brought in, and the surfaces periodically dusted. The jumper Eilidh had made was beautiful, she told us wool is preferable when wet because it resists water and keeps you warm. She made it green, in case I miss the trees, and Caspian paid her double. I had hoped the air would be electric, brimming with something, as if it knew I’m leaving this time too. Everything was the same, same as it's always been and same as it always will. And I won’t be, I’ll go out there, replace my ships planks and come back me, but not wholly or maybe as more, and if Caspian’s with me the whole time who would notice the change, all of my red strings connect back to his.

It was half a day's journey to the port, and I felt it all. At some point my head was pulled to rest on his shoulder and every time the sun shone particularly bright he held a hand over my eyes to shield them. When we were close to enough to the sea to smell it, the briny tang light in the air, he came into himself, as if he swallowed sunlight, and grinned.

I hate this. Caspian told me I will at first, I haven’t got the familial love he has. A runaway father that was only 19 when he met his future wife at the port. The family was forcibly moved to a landlocked town when opportunities dimmed and Caspian's childhood was spending every holiday possible making the hours long treks to the beach, with just enough time to wiggle his toes in the sand and swallow lungsful of water when learning to swim, and when he was older it was learning how to sail with his father. Finally, it’d get too cold to continue so his mother would swaddle him in towels and place him on her lap, until he eventually grew too big for her, together they’d watch the sun set. He told me once that it was like the water was just a mirror and everything radiated pink and orange and golden hues until finally... darkness, and there was twice as many stars as usual. Then they’d go home and count down till the next summer. His love was intergenerational, it’ll grow on you, trust me. But it won’t, I hate this. I feel sick & disoriented, it’s too loud and quiet at the same time. Like when people move from a bustling city, heavy in smog and movement, to a quaint village, and there they find the crickets and pollen too much to bear. There was none of the sounds I was accustomed to and all too many of ones I wasn’t. I can’t even swim.

How did we plan for weeks and not think that I would need to know how to swim?

Caspian had finished prepping the sails and letting us go in the wind's direction, promising he’ll take us as far East as he can find – and then carry on. He had tried to explain all the terms to me, but words like ‘jib’ and ‘hull’ and ‘tiller’ easily slipped out of my mind like water. Instead, I stood by the helm and just watched him work, focusing on the beads of sweat running down his forehead and pushing supper down as far deep as it goes, as to not ruin this for him. When he had finished, he gave me the tour, showing me the saloon, where to cook, where to rest, where to pray, how to store in such a small space and when I was overwhelmingly exhausted from the information swimming in my head, he grabbed some pillows and blankets and led me back to the cockpit. There he prepped everything like it was our bed at home and laid down, gently pulling me down with him, our knees were bent awkwardly, and we were closer together than usual. That’s when I understood When I was younger my mother would bring me to visit her friends and after the initial gasps and hugs and ‘my how you’ve grown!’ they would largely ignore me to talk to each other. One of her friends, Mariam, had a baby boy that would sleep in a wooden bassinet pushed to the wall closest to where I was sitting, when he did stir, they’d finally address me again and tell me to rock him slightly, let him be lulled back to rest. Here, we were lightly rocked side to side by Poseidon himself and entire galaxies shining down on us, like a sleeping baby in a bassinet. I didn’t know there could be so many stars and still such a vast darkness. Caspian told me about the constellations he knows and the ones he’s made up, his own mythologies mapped out above us. And when I was too tired to listen, eyes drooping and his words bleeding into each other he tenderly held my elbow to help me up, shifting so I could rest my weight on him, and walked me to the bed, trying as best he could to push my dead weight into the cramped space. Leaving only for a moment to bring the pillows back in, before climbing into bed besides me.

The next morning, we stopped on still waters, and he taught me how to swim. In the afternoons, after I showed him my grandmothers' recipes for the cold, he tried to teach me more sailing terms and by the evening I’d read to him under the dimming light, I’d have to stop after a moment, too nauseous to read the words. It was a routine we near perfected in a month. I could tell he was happy; he was drowning in it. Shockingly, I was too, a saloon that smelled like garlic and spice, secured down potted herbs, dry storage spaces filled to the brim with my books, and his slow breaths when I should be asleep, was enough. On days the wind was too bad to pause he’d make me use the knots he taught me and shout what I need to do if we tip over, the exhilaration was more than anything I’d ever known.

Resources would run low, and he’d dock in the port of a country I'd never heard of, a culture unfamiliar and language unknown. With limited communication and lots of points & smiles we’d buy what we need and when our food was restocked, I’d ask to stay a few days more. We’d integrate ourselves in the local community and learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ and plan to return in the holiday season. We’d make pocket communities across the world and relish in hot water and write letters to the people back home.

#tw religious themes #tw death mention #tw drowning #writing #writers #writers on tumbr #prose #writeblr #studyblr #white sails #ask to tag

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fangirlyah · 4 years

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✦ a friendship by letters - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

summary: a friendship formed in childhood, a friendship that survived the riskiest adventures ... what will happen when they separate and their only contact is letters? word counter: 2,674

warnings: abandoned parents

according to the books the ages of the characters should be different, but in this one-shot their ages will be those agreed by wikipedia reasoning with the actors’ age in the year of recording of the second film (it is an approximation):

Peter - 20

Susan - 17

Edmund - 15/16

Lucy - 12

Prince Caspian - 26

digory kirke had raised you after being abandoned by your family. when world war II came to england, food was scarce. you were barely three when your parents took you to have a tea afternoon with your favorite uncle, but they never came back to pick you up. at first you didn’t understand, why had they abandoned you? people should not leave the people they love, that's what your fairytales said; but this wasn't a story, it was reality.

digory took care to keep you safe and with everything you needed. the years went by and your parents had become a vague memory, you no longer had remorse for them; a three-year-old girl had seemed a nuisance to them at the time.

when you turned eight, you got the first letter from them; they had started a new family, they had a pair of twins with blue heavenly eyes, they looked a lot like you. your little person wondered if they would see the resemblance and leave them too. despite the confusing news, that birthday was the best of your entire childhood, because an even better news had arrived. after all these years, you’d have some kids to be with. kirke had taken care of your education so you’d never had another friend than your uncle and the people who worked for him. the day the pevensies arrived was cloudy, a typical english day, with a small drizzle that would get wet from time to time.

they were well-dressed and with dubious faces, they were more confused to see a sweet girl waiting for them at the door of the cottage.

"hi, it’s nice to meet you!" you shook hands with them politely, despite your enthusiasm.

"we didn’t know there would be more children" one of the children, with freckles on his pale cheeks, looked at you from top to bottom, it didn’t seem much older than you but he seemed to judge you with just a few words.

"don’t be rude, edmund!" the other boy gently pushed his head, he looked like the oldest of them all.

the four of them were very nice, some more than others but they treated you well. you used to play in the big courtyards and take classes together. you had discovered each other’s personality shortly after your arrival; you were very observant. peter was the loudest talker, if it was a sports team he’d be the leader. but susan was not left behind, she was very smart and knew a lot about all the topics they talked about during meals. edmund didn’t talk much but he wasn’t quiet, of the four he was the most serious and acid but he wasn’t a bad kid. and finally lucy, she was a walking ray of sunshine, with that no further description was needed.

"why can’t we see the old man?" edmund was at your side as the two of you walked down the dirt road. the cook had ordered you to go in search of bread and milk.

"his name isn't old man, his name is digory kirke…” as they moved on and crossed people, edmund was surprised as every redneck seemed to know you.

"you said he raised you, how did he raise you if you never saw him?"

"yes I saw him, we spent all our time together...but now he’s busier than before"

"but...where are your parents?" edmund’s childish mind thought she was there for the same reason as them; perhaps, he wanted to think that her mother was a nurse and her father a soldier, that would be to have heroic parents. but your look got lost in the trees on your side as you didn’t answer, instead you said,

"race to the store!"

that was your first interaction. thanks to that race your friendship was forged, after two weeks of them living in your house.

your last interaction was the day they returned to finchley. the chaos continued, but was not enough to keep them away from home, so they had to leave. the four of them were on the cart thrown by a horse, ready to go to the train station; lucy greeted you, already sitting, fluttering her little hand. peter left you a kiss on the forehead and susan hugged you tight.

when edmund’s turn came, your eyes watered down, provoking ed to shed a tear. you had become best friends, everything that had happened in narnia had brought you together more than ever; you had grown up together, even though you then returned to your little child body.

"I packed you a book I found in the library, it’s about narnia," you whispered when you hugged him. "take good care of him"

"with my life" so you saw them leave, as they greeted you waving their arms as you did the same.

time went by and years flew away. years when the only contact between you and the pevensies, especially edmund, was letters. letters that came and went every week, so they grew together but apart.

when you turned 13, you started high school. your joy was so immense that the first thing you did was write to your great friend.

‘my dearest edmund

I have great news. this year I will start high school in a school. a real school! uncle took me yesterday to buy my supplies and uniform. is unreal!

how are you, lucy, peter and susan? I miss them too, I miss you and narnia. how's school? is it tiring to live there? I hope not because my school is a boarding school too. I hope to see you soon

y/n"

the letter arrived two days later in edmund’s school room. his heart exploded because of the great happiness it gave him, you would have other friends and you could live a normal teenage life. he immediately wrote you a letter expressing his joy.

my dear y / n,

I also miss you more than you imagine and reading you so happy about your new school makes me want to run to hug you. I know I can't, I imagine it and I enjoy it just the same.

we are all fine, school is always the same. boring. but in the boarding school, I know that you will have fun and will make many friends.

i care about you

yours, edmund.

when you started school, the sending of letters began to be less frequent. the correspondence between the secondary schools was slow, which made it difficult to communicate. the letters took weeks to arrive, between two and three. on a saturday afternoon, he got his first letter of yours after weeks.

‘dear ed,

the mail sucks! all the letters I was sending you didn’t reach your school, I know because they were all returned to my address. I’m tired of this, I want to see you and go to narnia again...

in other news, you remember I made two friends? well, they introduced me to roger. he’s very friendly and he always accompanies me to all the classes, but well...I’m happy to make friends.

In a few days it’s the christmas ball and I’d like us to go together...i mean, the five of us. I know it’s not possible, but it’s a nice idea.

tell me about yourself.

with love, y/n!’

edmund still did not know why but, after reading the letter, an anger invaded him, he even thought he would explode. who was roger? would you go to the ball with roger?

"I had it sorted" said peter, looking at him, while waiting for the train, edmund just rolled his eyes.

"since when do you get into fights, edmund?" lucy looked at him from across the bench. "since he received the letter from y/n the other day" said his bigger sister moving her eyebrows coquettishly.

"why don’t you shut up, susan?!"

"both of you shut up!" peter screamed when everything around him started to disappear.

out of nowhere, the four were inside a cave with access to the sea. an immense joy filled them, they were in narnia. at that time, while everyone was taking off their clothes, to dive into the transparent water, edmund just wanted to grab a paper and quill to tell you, but it was impossible. in fact, they were in a narnia 1300 years older. their kingdom had been invaded and the magic of it was dying faster and faster. edmund wanted you there, while he walked the meadows looking at the ruins of what was cair paravel. but you were in england.

"y/n are you ready for the ball tonight?" one of your friends was walking beside you on the streets of london. the teachers had let all the students go in search of their garments for the feast, the very day of the celebration.

"not really, I have never been to a party so I’m a little nervous"

"it’s easier than it looks" you were turning the corner when you thought you saw a shiny fur. "are you okay, y/n?” the girl next to you asked as she saw you looking for something with intensity. what you saw it looked like a lion, but it was impossible. lions in london? will be aslan?

"is that...I remembered that I must call my uncle to wish him a good christmas eve, yes that!... emm, you go ahead, I’ll go talk on the phone and catch you" so you retire at a fast pace, to see the lion enter a phone booth. of a push you entered the red booth, finding a small golden paper on the machine.

'You know what numbers to dial’

it would be lying to say you were confused, the number 338 appeared in your mind immediately; it was your room number inside of cair paravel. when your fingers moved through the numbers, the machine began to tremble slightly, making all your surroundings become blurry. in the blink of an eye, you were standing in a meadow full of daisies. you were alone but far away you could see what seemed like a how, a shelter.

without the need to ask anyone, you knew it. you were in Narnia, you felt it in your bones. It was different, but the aroma and familiarity did not go unnoticed.

the trees were not as you remembered them, they used to dance around you every time you made an appearance in the gardens but this time they stood still; they seemed asleep. your school uniform started to heat you up so as you moved along the green lawn you left your clothes in the way, until you were left with your blue skirt, which reached a little above the knee, your shoes and the white shirt. you felt at home, you had returned to your home; among your thoughts, the idea of the pevensie being there also reached your head and you wished that aslan would appear back to show you the way to them. but instead of aslan, a horse being ridden by a men appeared before you.

"I’m sorry, miss, but may I ask who you are?" a dark-haired boy got off his horse to stand in front of you, curiously. he had never seen you before, but he knew you weren’t a telmarine, or you would have bowed to him, and you weren’t a narnian because the sons of adam and eve who belonged to narnia, were the kings and queens and he already knew them.

"my name is y/n, gentleman...and you are?"

"prince caspian, future telmarine king" telmarine? it sounded familiar to your ear, perhaps you had read it in some book of prophecies in your stay in narnia years ago; but it had been so long that no memory came to your mind. "you’re a daughter of eve, right?"

"I don’t have horse legs so I’m not a centaur" you said in a comedy voice that wasn’t funny enough for the prince to smile, so you stopped your laugh and continued to say "yes, I’m a daughter of eve."

"come with me then" the situation that edmund had gone through came to your mind, you didn’t know whether to trust the boy who claimed to be future king. despite your doubts, you didn’t have the courage to ask where he would take you and you decided to trust him, asking aslan to give you back your fighting skills if necessary; it’s been a long time since you’ve practiced, sword fighting was not a common hobby in finchley.

you skillfully climbed, to caspian’s surprise, to the white horse where he had come to you. the said prince took the reins and began to ride. they went up a high meadow, from there you could see the transparent waters several meters down. if the situation had been different, you would have run down to the sand to enjoy the water, but the uncertainty of where you were going did not leave you. surprisingly, you arrived very quickly at the place you had seen before. now from close up you could see that it was, aslan’s how. caspian didn’t kidnap you, he was a good man. so, thanking him you got off your horse and looked around as the prince walked into the how. edmund was busy looking at a map, but someone’s footsteps from behind distracted him.

"yes you take your time, we don’t need you to make war plans" the sarcastic voice, that so characterized ed, echoed through the shelter as it reached the outside causing you to freeze. it was a voice you were unfamiliar with but you had heard it before. your mind traveled to the last time you spoke on a pay phone with your best friend and recognized the voice. it was edmund, but he had grown up. he had obviously grown up, like you had.

"I’m sorry, I found someone on the way..."

"with whom you could possibly have met in the middle of the wood-" edmund’s gaze moved towards the entrance of the place when he saw a delicate figure enter. those sweet traits that he remembered so much from his childhood were refined, elegant, but they kept that shred of innocence that he liked so much. that face that was so much expected to be found casually on the streets of london or finchley was in front of him, dressed in what looked like the remains of a school uniform and the astonished eyes absorbing all around her.

"y/n..." it was a whisper, but the echo of the how made it sound loud enough for you to hear.

so you looked up meeting the person who had occupied your head since you were eight. the boy you used to create scenarios with at night. the boy who was a little kid and now was a man in armor looking at you from the other side of the room. the boy you were afraid to see holding someone else’s hand. your mind failed to form a word because you were already running towards him, to wrap yourself in his body. his arms traveled to your waist swiftly as he lifted you from the ground and shoved his face up your neck, smelling your scent that he had so missed. one of your hands traveled to his hair caressing that darkness that you used to braid when you were just a kid.

"hello ed" you whispered giving yourself permission to shed a tear. edmund felt that drop of water fall on his shirt, so he took you off his body to start leaving kisses all over your face, causing laughter in both. by that time, caspian had already retired, leaving you two alone.

"what are you doing here?" said edmund when he stopped kissing your face, but leaving his hands on your waist while you stroked his cheeks.

"I have no idea, but I’m here! and I missed you so much that I don’t care!"

"I missed you too, with all my heart" the boy’s eyes turned to your mouth and an urge to taste your soft lips flooded him.

"do it" and he did it. what he was waiting for so long. at that time nothing didn’t matter, no war or anything. just the two of you. neither of you could put into words what you felt, but you two wanted to find out together. between kisses and caresses, you could decipher when that passionate love was born, that passion that was sealed with a reunion kiss.

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie x y/n #the chronics of narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #one shots #prince caspian

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errthel · 4 years

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Poseidon Bbys First Oneshot

Poseidon found himself reborn into another world as a babe

Poseidon vividly remembered the way his life ended, at the hands of the one called Sasaki. His rage knew no bounds, and as soon as he opened his eyes, he wanted- no needed, to teach that man a lesson. But instead, he saw beautiful eyes the color of (E/c), they were puffy, like she had been crying earlier, but the owner of those eyes showed Poseidon a smile he had never seen before. A smile of kindness.

Poseidon looked up to the dangling shiny things of the bassinet he was put in, he tried to reach up to the shiny objects. He was sure it was gold, albiet looking old, it still had that recognizable sheen due to being cared for well. It has been two months since he was reborn and he still wasn't that used to the fact that he was a babe.

A chuckle was heard from the side of Poseidons bassinet and he looked over to see those eyes, ones that held kindness every time she was him.

The owner of those eyes was a woman named (Y/n) (L/n), a noble lady who begged Poseidons father to become his nanny. She was a well-kept woman with (E/c) eyes that glistened and (H/c) hair that was always put in a low bun and out of face.

"Do you like is Caspian? I'm thankful that brother let me borrow it for you." she said, referring to the bassinet

Caspian, that was his name in this world, he was born during the first high tide of the year, truly befitting for the former God of the Seas. He was a prince, a prince of the Astheritian Empire, although he was a prince, he was of lowly birth.

His mother was a common dancer from another country, and his father, the Emperor who already had seven other children from different noble women. Because Poseidons mother was a common dancer from another country, his claim to the throne was little to none, having inherited the title of 'Eight Royal Prince' or in other words dead last.

(Y/n) kept a few candles of Poseidons room lit. She carried the babe to her bossom and gently rocked her arms. She silently hummed a song, knowing fully on how Poseidon detested loud noises during the night, it was one of the quirky habits Poseidon had, and so she respected his habits, simply humming a lullaby.

Poseidon stared at the womans kind face and took in all the details of her face. He was being craddled by the woman, and surprisingly she was softly humming instead of singing a lullaby like his original mother did, he detested noise during the night, but she continued on singing, either she ignored how he liked silence during night or she never knew. This made him appreciate this human like he did no other human or god in his previous life.

(Y/n) simply smiled when people asked her on how she was able to become a perfect nanny. Her eyes would immediately gain a downcast look before brightening when Poseidon would come running to her.

She stared at the four year old with fond eyes, she took him into a hug where he stiffened before relaxing. She ran her hands through his hair, oh how much it resembled his mothers, beautiful in every sense of the word.

(Y/n) grew up to become the best noble lady, but was put under too much pressure. Without anyone to turn to, she was slowly entering into a state of depression.

Until one summer day, she met her.

A siren-like beauty who moved as graceful as the water of a river. A kind smile was displayed on the face of the dancer as she invited the noblewoman for tea.

Enchanted, (Y/n) accepted her offer. She was the one who saved her from the poisonous jaws of the nobility. She and (Y/n) became the best of friends soon after.

"(Y/n) can I make a request?"

"Of course, as long as it doesn't break the law, I will do it."

"Yes... I am glad that I have a friend like you (Y/n)." for a moment the dancer looked sad, but immediately cheered up when the noblewoman started to disscus about getting lessons to become a nanny

"Of course! I would do it even if you didn't ask!" the bubbly noblewoman said showing her enthusiasm to the dancer

"Right, right... I want you to become my childs nanny..." the beauty said

(Y/n) would soon understand her sad look when the tragedy of the first high tide happened.

She was cradling the newborn babe, tears and wails came from the woman.

The man stopped and looked at his child, hair like the dancer who stole his heart and ran off with it to the other side.

The woman held the babe protectively, her eyes showing a sense of complete defiance.

"Fine, Caspian was it? I'll make sure to remember that. We will see what will happen to him, (Y/n) (L/n)."

Poseidon had now lived for several years in this world, reading and gaining more knowledge the library of his palace could offer. His palace wasn't really a royal palace, but it was as big as those expensive rural mansions of high-ranking nobles. He would have complained about this, but (Y/n) made living in the palace bareable.

Over the several years she took care of the former god, she picked up every little habit of his. She knew the times he prefered to sleep, or read. She learned his body language and acted according to Poseidons moods.

She was thankful that she was able to take care of the babe and to see him grow to a handsome young child made her infinitly happy. She was truly like a mother to the former god, the mother he never got when he was an almighty being.

Poseidon was sitting underneath a tree that he had planted after learning that it was (Y/n)s favorite tree.

He was now a handsome young teenager. Poseidon was reading a book as usual, while eating a few sandwhiches (Y/n) had prepared for him. He reminisced the memories he had underneath this tree, the first time he showed (Y/n) this tree four years ago, the first time he met his father, and the time where (Y/n) pointed a sword at an assassin during the selection wars two years ago.

Poseidon simply stayed still as the breeze picked up his hair and slowly letting it down. He wad now the Crown Prince, a goal he had commited into completing when (Y/n) first defended him when he was picked on by his noble siblings at a banquet.

"Ian, there you are..." the kind voice from his childhood called out to him

"..." he simply stayed silent, but the nanny knew that he aknowledged her presence

Poseidon looked at the still youthful woman, over the years, she only grew taller and her bust only got a bit bigger, other than that, she looked like she hadn't aged since she first took care of him. He stood up and hugged the woman, she returned the hug and they both shared the warm embrace.

Poseidon looked back to when he was feeling something around the woman, he couldn't quite understand what that emotion was. He soon found himself thinking that it was love, and quickly tried to get rid of those emotions.

Poseidon soon realized that the love he felt wasn't romantic, but was unconditional love. It was love shared by him and his nanny, or at this point, mother. Something his original mother never cared for.

It was at this point that the almighty Poseidon was proud to be a human, completly forgeting his life as Poseidon the God of the Seas, and living as Caspian the Crown Prince of the Astheritian Empire.

#record of ragnarok #oneshot #poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #love unconditionally #x reader

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

Text

Salt & Snow - Chapter 1

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: The only daughter of House Caspian, close allies of House Stark, visits Winterfell with her family and meets the four interesting children that live in the great castle. Childish shenanigans and silliness ensues.

Hi everyone!! Im gonna give a short fanfic series a try! ;w; I haven’t done this in years lol, and I’m a little proud of this. I think it’ll be around 6~10 chapters? I don’t want it to be long! (yes I am working on other requests i promise hahaha this just got away from me~)

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The cold air hit her cheeks, and the only reaction she could give was delight. Normally she was scolding her little brother for throwing open the window to their carriage, but now she could only climb over him as she gazed out. The brilliant castle was in sight, and there was a sea of colorful banners all around it. She couldn’t imagine so many people in one place, all trying to fit into Winterfell. Even if it was a grand castle, how could it fit so many men and horses?

Her uncle leaned over her and her brother, chuckling at their starry-eyed expressions. “No leaning out the window. You’ll be there soon enough.”

Y/N recalled a time when her uncle let her lean over the bow of a ship to gaze at dolphins, but this didn’t seem a good time to remind him. It was hard to care about dolphins when she was so far from the sea, anyway. “Uncle, will there be room for us?”

“Of course, sweetling. Your father is a good friend of Lord Stark, remember? Do you remember the last time you were here?”

She shook her head, and so did her little brother, which was silly. He probably wasn’t even born then. Her father often mentioned Lord Stark and the great castle that was Winterfell. Supposedly he’d taken her twice, but they were such faint memories. Today was like seeing it for the first time.

“You were even smaller then, so I’m not surprised. I hope you two will behave yourselves while you’re here. Don’t make me write to your Lady Mother.”

At the mention of her, Y/N and her brother nodded again, except with more seriousness… Well, Y/N took it seriously, but Willam was already clambering back to the window. She felt her excitement begin to dwindle as she thought about her mother lecturing her over whatever thing she failed at, probably a botched courtesy. Her Lady Mother never lectured Willam when he ran through the horse stalls or wrestled in mud with the other boys.

Y/N patted at the neat braid at her shoulder, suddenly worried it was out of place. Her uncle would never lecture her about it being messy, but now she was thinking about it. She smiled at the shiny thread woven through the braid, and the pretty pearl at the end of it. Her father gave it to her. She wished he was here too, but he was riding on his huge black stallion ahead of their carriage. Uncle said Lord Stark gave him the beautiful horse. Y/N was wary of horses, but she liked that one.

Finally the carriage slowed to a crawl and made its way to the gates of Winterfell. Y/N gaped with her brother; it was so huge compared to their modest keep at Ramsgate. Y/N loved her family’s home, but it was like comparing a village to White Harbor. Her brother was bouncing like a proper five year old, tugging on her cerulean sleeves and pointing. “Look, look! A doggy!”

Huge banners flew on top of the parapets and unfurled on the walls. They were a brilliant white, and the creature running across them was as grey as the castle walls. She shook her head. “That’s a direwolf.”

Sometimes Willam looked at her as though she were a genius, which was a nice feeling. She pulled her rowdy brother into her arms and was pleased when he didn’t fight her. The banners and armored men on horses captured all of his attention. She used the distraction to untangle his hair and smooth out his tunic.

She was surprised when her uncle patted her shoulder approvingly, but it was a welcome gesture. The carriage had stopped, and she saw the black, teal and navy banners of their House passing the open window. She tried to be the calm lady, but she was feeling as bouncy as Willam.

Uncle Cole exited the carriage and opened the door for them on the other side. Y/N kept an iron grip on Willam so he didn’t just roll out and fall on his face; her Uncle picked the boy up and set him on his feet, then promptly held his collar so he didn’t go running off. With his other free hand, he helped Y/N down. She lifted her skirts and exited with much more grace.

Y/N looked over her dress, hoping it wasn’t too rumpled from the journey. Her Uncle said she could wear something comfortable for the trip and change into something nicer that evening, but Y/N was too excited to have a proper, real lady’s gown. She wore the beautiful blue and green of the sea, with beautiful little embroidered manta rays. They were her favorite part, and when she walked, her long sleeves swayed and made them look like they were swimming. With the threaded pearl in her hair, Y/N felt much older and more important than her eight years. She would be nine in a few months, and then ten, and by then she was nearly grown. Her lady mother said something to that effect, anyway.

She kept her skirts lifted as she walked through the yard and spotted her father. She would not run to him, because she was a lady, but she did allow herself a little happy skip. She thought he would pick her up like he always did, but his hands were dirty from riding, so she settled for his laughter.

“I’m sweating like a hog in summer, and my girl is fresh as a winter rose! That dress is lovely, Y/N. I know your mother would be proud.”

Y/N wondered about that. She was disappointed her mother was missing such a great harvest feast. “Maybe she should have come, father. What if she’s lonely?”

“Sweetling, the journey is too much for her right now, and she isn’t alone. She has your new brother, remember? He’s too young to leave, too, and she’d hate to leave him alone. Wouldn’t you?”

Y/N wasn’t sure how she felt about her baby brother. She hadn’t even had a chance to see him, but she remembered how her mother screamed when he came into the world, and it wasn’t a pleasant thought. The Maester said she was still bedridden, and she heard the washerwomen whispering about her condition. Willam was hard, they said, that’s why Lady Talia didn’t have a child for so long.

So why did she have another? She already has me and Willam. Y/N had asked the Maester, but he simply corrected her grammar and turned her attention to her studies.

It wouldn’t do to be unsure and gloomy today, not when they were in a grand new place and her father was beaming like she’d never seen before. “Can I write to her?”

“She would love that. Tell her all the details, don’t leave anything out.” When he laughed, his beard moved with him. Compared to other Northmen, her father’s was trim, and she liked that. He didn’t look old like the Maester or the horse master. “Little Y/N, do you remember the last time you were at Winterfell?”

“No.”

“Just so, you were barely to my knee, and Willam was still in your mother’s stomach. Do you remember their children?”

She knew the Starks had children, naturally, her parents and other adults mentioned them before. Y/N felt embarrassed she couldn’t recall any names, though. “No …”

“That’s fine, dear, it was a long time ago, and you weren’t here for very long. They have a girl your age, named Lyanna. You can play with her while you’re here. Their boys are too old for Willam, but I know you’ll get on well with them.”

It sounded like Y/N didn’t have much of a choice in playing with Lyanna or being nice to her brothers, but she didn’t mind meeting new children. Lord Manderly had no daughters to play with, only his two sons, and they were older and often annoyed her. One of her father’s men had a daughter, but she was younger and prone to crying at the drop of a pin. Y/N hoped Lyanna wasn’t like that.

She followed her father and uncle to the great hall of Winterfell, holding her brother’s hand firmly so he’d follow along. He was stopping and staring at everything, which she wanted to do too, but she was interested in seeing the hall and the Starks. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as she thought it would be when they entered, and gazing upon the banners hung up in the hall, Y/N realized they were one of the first families brought in.

Before her was the tallest man she’d ever seen. Her father was tall, she thought, he was bigger than the master-at-arms and her Uncle, but this one slapped her father on the back so hard she thought he hurt him. He had a great beard, too, and long black hair that was like the night. Beside him was a woman in beautiful white and grey silks, with hair so soft and brown, Y/N instantly thought of chocolate.

While her father and uncle loudly greeted the man, it was the woman who stepped toward her. Beside her were two children: A girl slightly taller than Y/N, and a boy slightly shorter. The girl looked just like the woman, down to her pretty brown hair and big grey eyes. She wore a lovely sky-blue dress that was simpler than Y/N’s, but she also had a braid that was tied back with a blue rose. The boy had long black hair that stuck up in a few directions and the same grey eyes. He wasn’t hiding his curiosity, and nor was his sister.

The woman bowed her head slightly, and Y/N attempted a curtsy while still holding her brother’s hand. “Lady Stark,” Y/N said, hastily trying to recall what she was taught. “It’s good to meet you. Thank you for having my family.”

“The pleasure is mine, dear,” Lady Stark said. She had a nice smile, and her steady voice reminded Y/N of her Lady Mother when visitors came. It was a comforting sound. Her daughter wasted little time in doing her own curtsy, but her excited words didn’t match the proper gesture.

“My name is Lyanna. What’s your’s?”

“Um, Lady Y/N of House Caspian.”

“I know which one that is,” Lyanna had a big smile. She seemed proud of knowing this, and she pointed to the little white manta rays on Y/N’s sleeves. “Your sigil is a black ray on a blue ocean, with navy waves. Your castle is on a beach!”

“Yes, that’s right,” Y/N held up her sleeve, and Lyanna happily admired it. Willam peered out from behind her skirt, and suddenly Y/N remembered him. “Oh, um, and this is Willam. My Lady Mother and youngest brother couldn’t come. Um, she wishes she could.”

“I wish she could as well, but I am praying for her health.” Lady Stark said. “I’ll look forward to seeing her next year.”

Y/N was about to ask why Lady Stark thought they were visiting next year, but the wild-haired boy took the spot beside Lyanna and spoke up. “I’m Benjen.”

“He’s the youngest,” Lyanna said, then added, “And the shortest.”

“You’re going to be the shortest soon, you know,” Benjen said. He seemed very good-humored. “Father said we’ll all be as tall as him. We’ll be able to put our elbows on your head.”

Lyanna scoffed loudly, and Lady Stark instantly raised an eyebrow. Before she could comment on that little noise, her husband took up Y/N’s entire vision.

He was tall.

Often, Y/N’s father and her uncle crouched on their knees when talking to her, but Lord Stark didn’t bother. He seemed to speak as loudly as the men at arms did when they trained. “Now, look here! You were up to here the last I saw you. Welcome to Winterfell, my lady.”

Y/N tried not to quiver in her own boots. She felt Willam’s little hand squeeze her’s, and she thought it was encouragement, but then she glanced over. The boy was trying to fight his own tears.

She opted to go for her courtesies. “Th-thank you, Lord Stark, you honor me.”

“Hah! Does she always speak so pretty? She’s a darling thing, Gareth. I wish Talia could have made it, but congratulations for your son. We’ll see them next time, I hope. Lyanna, Benjen, why don’t you introduce Y/N to your brothers?”

“I’ll watch Willam.” Uncle Cole said to Y/N before she could say anything about him. She worried her little brother would cry when his uncle took him from her, but she heard Cole say something about a knight and a wolf, and the boy’s eyes were filled with stars instead of tears. Y/N wondered if she was that simple when she was five.

Lyanna was quick to say “Yes, father!” and take Y/N’s hand in place of Willam’s. Before she knew it, Y/N was being dragged out of the great hall and out into the crisp, cold air. Benjen was hot on their heels, the air making his long black hair whip in every direction.

Benjen had a grin in spite of his words. “I thought father was going to make you cry, Y/N.”

“H-he wasn’t!”

“Brandon is pretty scary, too.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just a big bother.”Lyanna said. “He thinks he knows everything because he’s eleven.”

“Lyanna’s only mad ‘cause he got to go riding this morning, and she had to stay and memorize banners.”

Lyanna made a move to punch his arm, but Benjen easily dodged her. Y/N was surprised she was allowed to move like that in a dress, then she looked down and noticed the hem of it was muddy.

They ran a circle around Y/N, Benjen not even bothering to really run, since Lyanna was hampered by her skirts. She knew it and gave up, tossing them down with frustration. The winter rose was sagging a little in her braid.

Y/N wasn’t sure what to say. “Um … I can meet your other brother, if you want.”

“Oh, Ned! Yes, Ned is better. He’s sweet and treats ladies properly.” Lyanna nodded, pleased with the suggestion.

“How old are you, Y/N?” Benjen asked.

“I’m nine in a few months.”

“Just like me!” Lyanna bounced. “Benjen is only seven!”

The boy wasn’t bothered by this. Instead, he took off running and called back, “Race to the training yard! Winner gets lemon cake!”

“You cheat!” Lyanna was already gathering her skirts and flying off. She whipped her head around, brown hair flying everywhere. “Come on, Y/N! Don’t let him win!”

“Um.” Y/N looked down at the pretty silver thread on her bodice, the little embroidered rays on her sleeves, and the neat hem of her dress. She looked around and, satisfying none of the servants were interested in what she was doing, pulled her skirts up to her calves, where her boots ended. She could run ladylike, couldn’t she? It was alright if her boots got a little dirty, because she could just clean them, right?

Y/N ended up doing something of a trot and skip, which didn’t look nearly as elegant as she pictured. She did her best not to lose sight of the Stark girl, and by the time she ran up to the training yard, she was trying not to huff and puff. Y/N hastily touched her braid and was relieved that the pearl was still there.

Lyanna’s winter rose had flown out at some point, and several strands of hair were in her face. She absently brushed them aside. “There you are, Y/N! Benjen cheated, as usual.”

An older boy was sitting on the fence, lazily swinging his legs. He bit into an apple. “Or you were too slow, as usual.”

“I would be faster if I had my tunic and pants!”

The boy snickered. “Mother would be angry.”

Lyanna had a retort ready, but Benjen waved to Y/N and called her over. “We found the wrong brother. Want to look somewhere else?”

Y/N glanced up at the boy, who wasn’t a real grown-up, but he was still bigger, especially when he sat up on that fence. He had black hair like Benjen, and while it was shorter, it wasn’t much neater. She didn’t like the look on his face, but she bowed anyway. “My name is Lady Y/N.”

“I’m Brandon. I’m going to be Lord of Winterfell.” He said in way of a greeting. He didn’t bother to stop eating his apple, or get off the fence.

Y/N was instantly annoyed.

Lyanna did that scoff again. “Right, he’s going to be an ‘important Lord’, so he’s busy. Let’s go find Ned.”

“He doesn’t want little kids tagging along, either.” Brandon said.

She ignored that. “Where is he, then?”

“How would I know?”

“Ugh. We’ll find him ourselves.”

Suddenly, Brandon asked Y/N, “Do you have a brother?”

“It’s ‘do you have a brother, Lady Y/N,’” Lyanna corrected quickly. “Where’d you leave your manners?”

“Same place you left your’s,” Benjen said easily, and both Brandon and Lyanna ignored that.

“I do have one.” Y/N didn’t like having to crane her neck up at this stupid wall to talk to this boy, even if he was the oldest Stark. “He’s three years younger than me. My other brother is a babe, and back at Ramsgate.”

Brandon huffed, and Y/N didn’t get what the attitude was for. It was Lyanna who explained, “Now that he’s almost good at sword fighting, he wants to fight every lordling that visits. He doesn’t even use a real sword.”

The older boy flushed. “I will soon! What do you know about swords, anyway?”

“I know as much as you, and probably more.”

That made him hop off the fence, and Y/N was dismayed to learn he was still tall without it. “Girls don’t use swords. Father already told you that.”

It was Lyanna’s turn to turn red with anger. Y/N was surprised at how quickly it came, and she wondered if this was a fight they had before.

“I bet I could use a sword and a lance better than you, if I was taught.”

“Well, you aren’t taught, and you won’t be, so you can’t be better.”

Y/N tried to speak. “Um, Lyanna, maybe we can do something else? Let’s walk around Winterfell —”

“Let’s try right now!” Lyanna said, not even hearing Y/N’s words. “I’ll use a stupid wooden sword, just like you. I’ll hit you right between the eyes with it!”

“You couldn’t reach me!” Brandon was yelling like his sister. “And Mother would have your head!”

“Are you going to tell on me? Afraid I’ll win?” Lyanna goaded, and that’s when Benjen tried to speak up.

“Brandon, stop yelling, everyone will hear,” He tried, nudging his older brother’s shoulder, but he was shaken off. Y/N tried to do the same to Lyanna, but the girl was as still as stone and couldn’t be moved. Y/N fretted, thinking of what her Lady Mother would do if she heard about this. She felt it was her fault, and she hated the idea of upsetting her father and the Lord and Lady Stark just hours after she arrived.

“Lyanna,” Y/N tried again to nudge the girl. She tried to hide her distress, but failed. “Come on, let’s go, I want to do something else.”

She looked to Benjen for more support, but the dark-haired boy was distracted. He was waving someone over, someone in the distance. Y/N looked with him — There was no way this person was an adult, and looking closer, Y/N saw he was a boy almost the same size as Brandon, but there was a small sword belted to his waist.

Lyanna stopped her arguing, and Brandon did too, but he was scowling. The new boy had the same soft, dark brown hair that Lady Stark had, and her pretty grey eyes. He said nothing, but Y/N could feel his disapproval.

Lyanna spoke first. “Brandon started it, he says I can’t use a sword and I know if I had one, I’d hit his stupid face —”

“— She’s a girl, and Mother said if she gets into another fight and ruins another gown, she’ll drag all of us by the ears around the yard —”

The new boy just let them talk over each other. When both Lyanna and Brandon saw they weren’t being heard, they huffed at each other. Lyanna crossed her arms.

Finally, the boy said, “We shouldn’t fight today. There’s lots of guests at Winterfell.”

Y/N didn’t expect him to say that, but it sounded like the right thing. To her surprise, Lyanna and Brandon looked equally sullen, as if they agreed.

“Brandon, you were supposed to be meeting guests with Mother and Father … and Lyanna, you already dirtied your dress.”

Lyanna opened her mouth to protest, then looked down at her muddy dress. She touched her hair, as if just noticing what a state it was in. Her mouth closed and she kept her arms crossed.

Brandon was ready to say something as well, but he just pursed his lips and made an annoyed sound. He and his sister glared at each other, but they said nothing. The new boy was giving his siblings a pleading look with those grey eyes.

“Fine,” They both muttered, and Benjen was smiling again. Y/N could feel the relief washing over her. She’d skip over this in her letter.

Lyanna lingered back to Y/N, her cheeks still red. She felt a bit embarrassed for acting like that in front of someone new, so she tried to move past it. “This is Y/N. She’s from the castle by the sea, at Ramsgate. Y/N, this is Ned.”

Y/N smiled and did her curtsy, grateful to the boy for restoring peace. She had a feeling he’d be nice to her, unlike Brandon. “It’s nice to meet you.”

She hadn’t expected him to hastily look down and mumble something. Had he not noticed she was there?

Brandon elbowed him, and Ned looked up, meeting her eyes with his own grey ones. She still liked the look of them, and now they were contrasting against the boy’s red cheeks. “Um. It’s nice to meet you.”

“And?” It was Benjen’s turn to elbow him. Ned frowned at his younger brother, glanced at Y/N, hastily glanced away and added,

“AndwelcometoWinterfell.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at that. Lyanna was giggling at her side, and Brandon looked much more relaxed. The air cleared at once, and Lyanna nudged Y/N’s hand before taking it.

“Let me show you around Winterfell, it’s pretty here, even without the ocean. Oh, I know the best place to start!”

“She’s already in the best place,” Brandon said. “The stables are here, too. Let’s show her our horses!”

“I have the prettiest mare,” Lyanna said. “Do you ride? Oh, soon Brandon is going to get a big horse, like the ones knights use in tourneys!”

Brandon beamed, and Y/N was glad the two had something they bonded over. Benjen added, “When you’re done looking at smelly animals, I know the best hiding spots.”

“And the kitchens, they’re making so many pastries for tonight!” Lyanna said.

“What about the top of the castle walls? And the big catapults.”

“The towers, too, especially the haunted one,” Benjen said. “Well, it’s scarier at night.”

Y/N noticed Ned hadn’t added anything to their list of suggestions. He actually seemed a little dismal, and he glanced up at the tall walls that Brandon mentioned.

“Um, Ned, where do you think we should go?” Y/N asked, wanting to include him.

He blushed again, and fiddled with the hem of his tunic. She thought it was odd how he had a little sword at his waist, but Brandon didn’t. “Oh. Um. I don’t know…”

“You’re coming with us,” Lyanna said, although Y/N didn’t think Ned would try to slip away. He looked forlorn about something, she just didn’t know how to ask or what to say. “We have to do as much as possible before you have to leave!”

He has to leave? But where? Is that why he’s so sad? Y/N wanted to ask him, but Ned was shrinking back behind Benjen and Brandon. The latter was already marching to the stables, calling the girls to follow him. Benjen tugged at his older brother’s sleeve to urge him along, just as Lyanna eagerly pulled Y/N.

Lady Stark was doing a very impressive job of managing a smile while fury burned in her eyes.

“Lyanna. Brandon. Benjen.” She said each name with great enunciation, and each child grimaced as their name was said. “To the baths. Now.”

None of them protested. Lyanna’s hair had long fallen out of its braid and her dress had a motley of grime on it. Brandon’s arms and cheeks were caked in dirt after deciding to show Y/N how to mount a real knight’s horse - and promptly falling. Benjen was dirty from his fingers to his toes because, while Lyanna and Ned were helping Brandon up, he decided to pelt his sister with mud and hay. She ran after him, tackled him to the ground, and that’s how her dress ripped, too. Brandon doubled over in laughter and Y/N expected Ned to intervene again, but he just sighed.

Ned was more or less clean, as was Y/N - she noticed some dirt on the hem of her dress, but she couldn’t do much about it, and she didn’t want to trouble Lady Stark. The woman sighed heavily, and she tried to return some sweetness to her voice.

“Sweetling, could you wash your hands for me? I’ll have a maid brush the dust out of your hair and fix the braid. Would you like that?”

“Yes, Lady Stark. Thank you very much.”

It was best to be courteous when the fire was under one’s “arse”, as her Uncle said, although Y/N wasn’t sure what that was and why fire would be under it. She liked the idea of her nails and hair being clean again, though. Lady Stark turned to her second oldest.

“Ned, it’s good everyone was having fun, but on important days like this, you should remind them how to act. I know Lord Arryn has taught you much about being a proper Lord.” She sighed, and much of the anger was gone from her at that point. “Brandon knows better, but he needs a cool head to set him straight. Do you understand?”

Ned looked as though he had been scolded, anyway. He nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not upset at you, love. I’m glad you’re home.” She gave him a quick hug, then turned back to Y/N. “I’ll show you where you can freshen up, sweetling.”

She was thankful Lady Stark didn’t take her hand; she’d already been almost reprimanded like a child, she didn’t want to be escorted like one. As they walked away, she glanced back. He looks lonely again.

His grey eyes met her own, so Y/N smiled and waved. He looked away, but eventually glanced back and gave her a little wave back.

The harvest feast was a flurry of colors and music. Y/N had attended such feasts at Lord Manderly’s beautiful castle, but everyone was so much bigger, so much louder here. Sometimes it was frightening, and she was happy to be seated close to Lyanna. They were at a table meant for the younger girls, but the ages were varied and Y/N could tell Lyanna was bored with all of them. Surprised at her own boldness, but getting antsy herself, Y/N was the one who suggested they seek out the boys.

“Great idea!” Lyanna said, and her enthusiasm made Y/N regret the suggestion.

No one paid them any mind as they left the table. Lyanna only seemed to be avoiding her mother and father’s gaze, but Lord Stark was loudly telling stories with Y/N’s father, and Lady Stark was in deep conversation with two other ladies. All it took was ducking behind two serving women and crawling under a table to make their escape to the door.

The cold air hit Y/N’s face again for the hundredth time, and it was no less refreshing. She missed the smell of the salty sea, but the mountains and snow had their own relaxing scent. She turned to Lyanna. “Do you know where they are?”

“I saw Brandon leave, I bet Ned and Benjen followed him. They always do.”

She was right. Close the feast hall was a yard, smaller than the big training yard, but still plenty of room for boys to poke each other with wooden swords and laugh. Brandon was taking on Lord Manderly’s two sons.

Like Lord Manderly himself, they were round, blonde and good-natured. They weren’t at all bothered by Brandon trying to take them on at the same time, if anything, they thought it was a fun game. They’d actually left her alone tonight, no doubt because all the other lordlings were playing knights and “sparring”.

“Wylis, Wendel!” Y/N called. Their father was the liege lord of her father, so it’d be rude not to say hello. Wendel stopped the game to answer back, but Brandon hit him square on the head.

“That wasn’t fair,” Wylis said. “You didn’t give him a chance to yield!”

“Hard to yield when you’re dead,” Brandon shrugged. Wendel rubbed his head, but still called “Y/N!” and waved. She waved back just to appease him, and Brandon took the chance to strike again, but this time Wylis called out and Wendel jumped back.

Y/N spotted Benjen, who was hanging upside down from a low branch on a tree. The three Ryswell boys were around him, wanting to do it too, and Lyanna announced her intention to climb higher than all of them. Y/N looked around for Ned, and didn’t see him.

Who she did see startled her. She thought he was a statue, but that was stupid. Who had a statue of a boy - no, maybe a young man? - in the yard outside of a feast hall? He was so still, and then, he moved.

His pale eyes looked down on her. Maybe it was the trick of the torches, or the moonlight, but they were almost colorless. When he stepped close, her head was just under his chest, and she was face to face with the emblem of a flayed, bleeding man.

Y/N could only manage a pitiful attempt at a curtsy. She recognized the house’s sigil, but the name of their lord and only son escaped her. She’d never met either, but it still felt like a failed test.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startled her, and she didn’t know why. She hadn’t expected it to be so … quiet, yet there was little if any warmth in it.

“I …” She was allowed to be here, she was a guest, the same as him, but Y/N still felt herself faltering. She frantically glanced back for Lyanna, but the girl was too busy playing.

She was smaller than him, but she felt even smaller, and she hated it. Y/N was ready to dart back inside when she heard snow crunching behind her. Just a moment later, someone put a hand on her head.

“Roose, your father is looking for you.” It was Ned’s voice. Y/N glanced up, feeling comfort in his presence and the warmth of his hand. Normally she would’ve shaken him off, but she stayed still.

The Bolton boy said nothing to that, not at first. He glanced down to Ned’s hip, where the thin sword still was. Y/N noticed he had one himself, but it was a real one. A proper one.

It was Wylis’ oblivious voice that broke the tension between the three of them. “Roose! Come join us!”

Y/N couldn’t believe he was speaking to a proper lord like that, and she fearfully glanced at the taller boy to gauge his reaction. He had none. His icy eyes glanced toward the children climbing the tree and Brandon, and he simply said, “I haven’t used a wooden sword in years.”

That was it. Not willing to indulge in children’s games, the Bolton boy brushed past her, and Y/N felt the night air get just a little colder. She shivered, then felt warmth close to her fingers. At some point, Ned had moved his hand to her’s, but he didn’t make an attempt to hold it. Y/N decided to.

“Thank you,” She said, and she liked the little smile he gave her. He only met her eyes for those few seconds before glancing downward.

“Don’t be afraid of him. You’re safe here.”

Y/N nodded, even if she still felt anxious. The sound broke her out of her fear, and Ned led her over to the tree. Soon Brandon and Wylis and Wendel joined them, too, and everyone ended up cheering on Benjen as he swung to the highest branch.

Y/N stayed for three more days, delighting in playing with her new friends. It was mostly her, Lyanna and Benjen, but sometimes Brandon and Ned would join their games and exploring. She wished Ned would talk to her a little more, but he always seemed embarrassed, or one of his siblings would talk over him.

When it came time to leave, Lyanna started to cry, and that made Y/N cry. “You have to visit next year!” She said, hugging her companion close. “You have to!”

“I will,” Y/N said, already promising it without knowing if she could. Didn’t Lord and Lady Stark mention it? “I’ll ask my father and mother if I can come next year.”

“I’ll ask mine, too! Maybe they’ll let me go to Ramsgate. We’ll built sandcastles and collect shells!”

Y/N wanted to stay in Winterfell, but she wouldn’t be picky. She gave Benjen a hug, too. Ned had a shy goodbye for her, and Brandon was off on his horse somewhere. Lady Stark kissed her brow and said she was welcome at anytime, and Lord Stark patted her head, very similar to what her father did, except his hand was huge.

It was usually Willam sticking his head out the carriage, but he was fast asleep, and Y/N had no shame hanging halfway out to wave at the Starks as she left. Eventually they were too small to see, and then the castle gate closed, and her Uncle gently urged her back inside.

“When are we going back?” Y/N asked him, and she didn’t understand why he laughed. She was being serious.

“Sooner than you think, little ray. Your mother will be very pleased to hear you had so much fun. What did you think of the Stark boys?”

“Ned is quiet, and Bran is too loud. Ben is nice.” Y/N shrugged. “Lyanna is my friend, though.”

“That’s good. Very good. You can tell your lady mother all about them.”

Why? I sent her a letter. Y/N thought, but she just nodded and glanced out the window to watch the passing countryside. She didn’t understand why her uncle was so pleased, and she recalled her father asked that question, too … and didn’t Lady Stark? “What do you think about Winterfell, Y/N? Are you getting along with the boys?”

Y/N frowned. Maybe they thought I wouldn’t like Lyanna’s brothers because the only one I have is so young.

Whatever the reasons, Y/N quickly pushed them from her mind as she admired the passing forest and streams. It began lulling her to sleep, and she tried to make herself comfortable as the carriage jostled and the horses padded along noisily. She was fast asleep by the time her uncle covered her with a blanket.

#game of thrones x reader #ned stark x reader #libra fics #salt & snow #game of thrones imagines #ned stark

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charlie-sloane-art · 4 years

Text

The Fair Play

Summary: After the death of your paramour Ser Caspian Hightower, you couldn’t bear to love again. But while you, the Lady Mormont, grieve, others conspire behind the scenes to set you up with your close friend Jaime Lannister. Things seem to work in their favour until you meet Caspian’s maternal uncle at his funeral: Oberyn Martell.

Tags: @bluegalaxyprime @zeldasayer @beaferni @thewaythisis @edwardsj81 @hollandhiddles @mandahoe @btsbodyguardforever @refrigerated-omelette @theshiftylibrarian @azulasgf @vikingqueen28 @justnancydrewthangs @heatherlynn25 @c-ly-g @discogrrl @no-thanks-lol @yxorebeloxy @jeahyunniespeach @coffeeandtodd @reesestwizzlers25 @the-universe-stars-and-sun @zanasharm @venus-calum @cielphantomhixe @everything-lost-and-unsaid

The Stranger sits on her altar, shrouded by the silken, lilac-colored scarf of Ser Caspian Hightower, covering her eyes with her hands. She sits among rose petals and burning candles, the air around it tinted with the aroma of cyprus bark infused into the candle. Here is where you now kneel, a private moment in a sea of unwashed and bald-faced betrayals and heart-wretches. Here you are allowed to mourn, with your back to the locked door of your rooms. Leaning backwards, your hands catch the blanket ripped from your bed frame less than a few hours passed. It still smells like him; like amber and sticky sweet fruits of the Reach. You had started to worry when your incessant paramour hadn’t shown his face in nearly a week. It wasn’t like him not to come bounding up to you every morning with a new flower to present you by the dozen, one you had never seen from the icy grips of the North. Now you know why he hadn’t shown his face. He couldn’t. It had been left rotting at the bottom of a hang-cliff, having just missed its gradual slip and slide into the sea a few feet below. A cracked skull was all that had been left of him, all that could be recognized. Whatever other traces of his previous humanity that he had taken with him on the fall to his death the seagulls and other maritime creatures had taken from him quickly. Even those deep, bottomless pools of dark ichor he had for eyes had been pecked out, leaving raw and red gashes in their wake. A cracked skull and some fractured teeth.

The maester had told you his fall was as swift as his death, a candle extinguished nearly as quickly as it had been lit. The flowers he had in hand when he fell had dried, shrivelled, and blown away. You would never see what specimen he had carried with him ever again. Whichever it had been, he had been proud to show it, surely. For that must’ve been how he had lost his step. He had always been so sure and light-footed, trained by his uncle for a few months at a time in his childhood. He fought like the Red Viper, but with a romance unparalleled.

Surely, you would never find another romance like his. Spending hours in the gardens picking wildflowers to put through his dark hair that brushed his shoulders, his fingertips digging into your thighs ever so often enough to remind you he wasn’t a lifeless doll. That smile when his gaze graced your own grew like the opening of a lily in spring. His skin was always warm, tanned and only rough around the hands where he’d grown calluses from working to be the best second son of a secondary house. To be Caspian Hightower was to be alive, and so to be dead and to be Caspian Hightower was to cease being. Not even he could change that, not with that quick wit and adorable wink could death bring back what it had stolen from him.

Someone was speaking your name. Someone was touching your shoulder. A familiar touch, you noted. Jaime Lannister had come to rely on these touches between the two of you. You’d made him soft around the edges, he thought, but didn’t have the courage to sandpaper those edges back on. He liked the softness too much. Watching you weep was another feat of softness. You were bent over at the abdomen, face in your hands, and shoulders shaking. When you came up for breath it split his heart in two. His closest friend was in such agony and there was nothing he could ever do about it. “Please,” He whispered, pulling you into his gold-plated chest. You had learned how to make yourself comfortable against such a harsh material since arriving back at King’s Landing. He used to hold you with a warm bare chest or at the very least covered in some sort of soft yet dirty cloth. You’d fallen asleep under the stars so many different times this way. “Please stop crying.” He murmured against your hairline, his green eyes fluttering closed as you turned to wrap your arms around his neck.

“It isn’t right.” You sputter against his neck.

“No,” He agreed “It isn’t fair.” The thought of saying ‘I warned you’ nagged at the back of his brain but he reigned it back in. The capital had been cruel enough to the Lady from Bear Island “You can’t stay in here all day.” Jaime leaned over and extinguished the candles, letting more smoke waft into the room “At the very least keep your window open.” He helped you up to your feet and wiped your tears away, taking advantage of the necessary pause between your sobs as you caught your breath.

“I don’t want the fresh air. It smells like shit.” You seethed at him, grabbing the blanket from the floor and stuffing your face in it, sitting on the side of your bed.

He tutted your name and knelt in front of you, careful to brush your hair behind your ears. Another familiar gesture. “It’s better than choking on smoke. Come on, at least go to the kitchens with me. Have something to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Of course not. But still, you must eat.” Jaime’s patience had never been his virtue and you were starting to hear it in his voice.

So, you acquiesced “Fine. But I want wine. Lots of it.”

“As much as you like, Lady Mormont.” He offered his arm, a golden hand sticking out at the end of it. It occurred to him, as he walked down the halls with you, that he must look like a wizened pervert next to you: a lady half his age and freshly heartbroken leaning on his arm.

“Food for the Lady!” He called out as you both found your way to one of the many kitchens in the Red Keep.

“Whatever is on-hand will work just fine.” You added, less accustomed to being a commanding force. You remembered a time when you had to ask the kitchen staff nicely for your food or you starved at the end of the table with the other Stark ward and their bastard.

“You’re a Lady, Mormont.” Jaime reminded you under his breath as he led you to sit down at the sturdy oaken table in the middle of the grand kitchen. “Just because the Starks beat you to submission does not make your status any less.”

“I wasn’t beaten.” You mutter under your breath, taking a roll of bread and picking at it.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said I wasn’t beaten, you prick.” You rolled your eyes and threw the bread roll at him. Jaime remarked you may be the only person in the world who could do that to him without consequence.

“So what were you then?”

“I was a ward.” Your chin pointed higher “To Lady Catelyn Stark.”

“Not a very good one.” There was a pregnant pause before he managed to make you laugh.

“No, I suppose I wasn’t a very good ward. I let you out, didn’t I?”

“I am thankful for it every day, Cubby.” Cubby, another familiar touch. Of course, your house sigil was a bear, but to denote your youth Jaime had taken up calling you a cub, his cub. Lion’s had cubs too, after all.

Food arrived, an assortment of beans in a thick stew of some sort, breads with an array of different spiced butters, and wine to wash it all down. “Perfect weeping food. Come on, eat up.” Jaime said despite you staring daggers at him for the comment.

“Do you think,” You spoke between spoonfuls of beans “that the funeral will be here or at Hightower?”

“Surely it’ll be at Hightower. Besides, it’s bad luck to have a funeral precede a wedding. Cersei wouldn’t stand for it.” Of course, Caspian had only been at King’s Landing in the first place to attend the long-awaited wedding of King Joffrey Baratheon and Lady Margaery Tyrell. It was still highly anticipated. Half of the guests had yet to arrive, including Caspian’s own family from his mother’s side: the Martells of Dorne.

“Is it?” You rose a brow.

“Is it what?”

“Is it bad luck?”

Jaime shrugged “I don’t actually know but I’m sure that’ll be the party line. Besides, it’s not like there’s much of him to transport back.” Jaime said it and as soon as he did he regretted it because then he had to watch your bottom lip quiver and your eyes blink quickly “Cubby, I...I apologize. That wasn’t...That was not what you needed to hear.” He took your hand in his across the table and sighed, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb- another familiar touch.

“I might go.” You sniffled with a shrug, splitting a piece of bread in two with your hands “I might follow the procession to attend the funeral.”

“I can not follow.” Jaime spoke, his voice tinted in concern “Are you sure that is wise? You will be on your own.”

“Why won’t you follow?” Your question was cut off short by a presence in the kitchen, a tall mass of a woman with bright blonde hair and eyes of azure, glinting like her silver armor. “Brienne.” You smiled but she averted your gaze. “Brienne,” You stood, but she made her way back out of the kitchen from whence she had arrived in a clamor. You sat back down, head bowed.

“Found out you lied, did she?”

“The truth has its way of making itself known. If I really had been pregnant when I told her, my belly would be the size of a wild boar by now.”

“You can’t just tell her you lost it?”

“That would’ve been a bright idea if I had not already confessed, Jaime. Thank you.” You rolled your eyes. “At least you can pretend you weren’t in on the lie. Be as shocked as she was.”

Jaime shrugged and met your gaze with a small smile “It doesn’t matter to me that much.”

“Why would it? Brienne isn’t angry at you, is she?” You all but stuck your tongue out at him. “It’s not like I had much of a choice anyway. She was going to bring me back for execution!”

“You don’t have to convince me. I would have done the same.” Jaime finished his bowl and pushed it to the side, leaning on his elbows over the table “She’ll come around, Cubby. You shouldn’t worry yourself over her opinions.”

“She’s my friend, of course I worry about her opinion. What sort of advice is that?”

“Fine.” Jaime stood, grabbing a kitchen towel and wiping his mouth and hands with it “She’ll come around.” He said, making his way to your side of the table. He leaned down, holding the back of your head, and pressed a kiss to your brow “You’re too fragile, Cubby. You break at the slightest of wind changes.”

You bit your lip and held your head higher, meeting his gaze “I do not.” A fragile little girl wouldn’t have survived a year in the wilderness of Westeros, knight present or no. “Jaime,” you caught his attention as he was leaving the kitchens “why won’t you come with me to Hightower?”

“The king needs me here.” The knight spoke, still resigned to his post with the white cloaks.

“No, he doesn’t.”

Jaime sighed and closed his eyes, shifting on his feet.

“She needs you, though.” Cersei. It was always going to be Cersei, and no other. Poor fools, the both of you.

“Yeah.” He nodded and walked out, a bit of a stormcloud brewing over his head.

#game of thrones #Oberyn Martell #Oberyn Martell fanfic #Oberyn Martell fanfiction #Oberyn Martell x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #Nikolaj Coster-Waldau #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fanfic #Jaime Lannister #Jaime Lannister fanfiction #Jaime Lannister x reader #jaime lannister fanfic

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Photo

POTC AU go time! Pictured above are fresh-faced pirate Charlie Weasley, the mystical witch of Tortuga Chiara Dalma, and so-called “Pirate Dragon” Samantha O’Connell @samshogwarts! Looks like these three are a bit over their heads...let’s see if they can get out of it!

For those of you who appreciate my mini-history lectures surrounding real Caribbean pirates of the 17th and 18th century (please let me know if you do, I will happily geek TF out if it’s something you all like XD) -- Tortuga is an island in modern-day Haiti. It was originally a Spanish colony, settled in the 15th century not long after Mr. Despicable himself Christopher Columbus “discovered” the New World. Despite this, and despite the, er...tempestuous relationship between Spain and its neighboring countries, Tortuga ended up also hosting both English and French settlements, largely made up of buccaneers, in the 17th century. Buccaneers were an ancestor of the more classic “pirates” we think of today -- the biggest differences were that they were privateers, meaning they worked on behalf of a country and only attacked ships from other countries (i.e. a British privateer like Sir Francis Drake would only attack Spanish or French ships), and that buccaneers specifically congregated in that area of the Caribbean (namely, Tortuga and the island of Hispaniola) alone. Historically, however, Tortuga stopped being a great place for buccaneers to gather before the end of the 17th century -- specifically when treaties were passed officially banning those old privateers from attacking foreign vessels during times of peace, circa 1680. This also effectively killed off the buccaneer as a profession, until the War of Spanish Succession turned a lot more privateers who had fought during the War into the more classic 18th century pirates we think of today. During the most famous period of the Golden Age of Piracy -- namely, the third and final wave after the War of Spanish Succession ended in 1714, which hosted all of the best known pirates like Blackbeard and which both the Pirates films and this AU is set in -- it would’ve been far more common to find actual historical pirates in places like St. Mary’s Island off the coast of Madagascar or (I’m not kidding) Port Royal, Jamaica, which was quite frankly NOT the beautiful, upstanding city we see in the films. In truth, it actually prospered under piracy, until Port Royal’s leadership finally decided to crack down hard on pirates circa 1720. In this project, though, for the sake of iconography, I will treat Tortuga very much the way Port Royal would’ve really been historically -- a pirate island which, in this time period, was suddenly barraged by the pirates’ enemies and was immediately no longer a safe place for pirates to hide in. (Of course, historical pirates were much less likable or sympathetic than the pirate characters in this AU are, regardless of how objectively hard their existence was and how frankly horrid the world was in general for anyone who wasn’t upper-class, white, and male back then.)

The so-called “seven seas” have gone through a lot of “shuffling around” over the centuries, as our understanding of the world has grown. The phrase was first used by the Ancient Greeks, but back then of course, they didn’t know about the existence of bodies of water like the Caribbean Sea and the Pacific Ocean. In the Pirates films, there are nine Pirate lords for the Pacific, Indian, and Atlantic Oceans, as well as the South China, Caspian, Adriatic, Black, Mediterranean, and Caribbean Seas. I’ve slimmed down the number to just seven for the sake of referencing the so-called “seven seas,” and also because with the Pirate King, that would then give us eight pieces of eight, which seems like a much more logical number than nine pieces of eight. (Plus, to me, the Caspian and Black Seas are kind of weird choices to have Lords for as the Caspian is land-locked and the Black Sea can only be sailed into through a narrow channel in the Mediterranean...and from what I can tell, there wasn’t much 17th-18th century piracy specifically centered around those two seas either.)

Previous part of the AU is here -- whole tag is here -- and of course Jules Farrier-Weasley belongs to @cursebreakerfarrier and Finn McGarry / Davy Jones belongs to @theguythatdraws. <3

x~x~x~x

In the nearly three weeks since Jules, Bill, and Charlie said goodbye to Carewyn, the three had practically been thrown head-first into what piracy truly meant. Sailing aboard the Artemis hadn’t been as glamorous as the stories Jules grew up with, but trying to steer the Revolution with only three people aboard without enough food or drink to go around, all the while knowing that just about no ships they might come across and very few islands they might land on would be friendly to them, was something that didn’t sink in until one was left sitting up all night thinking it over. Everything the three owned now -- everything they were -- was either on their person or on this ship...and if anything happened to the ship, they wouldn’t just lose the belongings they had on board, but also the only way they could transport themselves out of danger and the only “home” they still had. No one would likely even know anything had happened to them until days, weeks, or even months afterwards. It was like nothing tethered them to the Earth at all -- like they had no gravity and could just fly up into the air at any time, disappearing forever without a trace.

There was a freedom to it, of course, knowing that you didn’t have to be defined by how you were born or what arbitrary value society placed on you...and yet, the freedom came at a cost.

The three Weasleys arrived on the island of Tortuga within four days. Truthfully it wasn’t really a place a lot of people would enjoy visiting -- it was loud, filthy, seedy, and treacherous, and yet, it was a safe place for them to fill their bellies and get their ship repaired and outfitted with new crew members.

There were a few pirates who initially balked at the idea of joining the crew of a ship captained by a woman, but before long, Jules made a name for herself in Tortuga after she was able to out-maneuver two drunken men twice her size in a fight, the first by ducking under his arm and then smashing a bottle of rum over his head to knock him out and the second by stealing his own pistol out of his belt and pointing it right between his eyes until he backed off.

Charlie couldn’t help but grin as the pirate rather cowardly slunk off like a dog with his tail between his legs.

“Bloody hell, Jules!” he laughed. “Reckon you scared him so bad he’ll be running off crying to Mummy...”

Jules crossed her arms, the man’s pistol still in her hand. “Well, he had it coming. Not wanting to be on our crew I can accept, but I am not a thing he can pay for.”

“You can’t be bought, period,” agreed Bill lowly, shooting a rather dirty look at the man’s back as he secured an arm around his wife’s waist. “Least of all by a disgusting cur like him.”

Charlie gave a low whistle.

“Blimey, Bill, a man of the Church, swearing like that?” he teased. “Whatever happened to turning the other cheek?”

“Ecclesiastes 3:8 -- ‘there is a time to love and a time to hate,’” said Bill coolly. “This is not a time to love.”

Jules smiled wryly up at Bill.

“I might have to disagree,” she said amusedly, as she tilted his head down enough to ensnare his lips with her own.

Not long after they arrived, Orion and the crew of Artemis met the Weasleys in Tortuga, as planned. It was good to see some familiar and friendly faces, in a sea of insincere smiles and shady looks. Orion immediately introduced the crew of the Revolution to a few of his “friends” on the island -- Andre Egwu, a rather fashionable pirate who had once been both a tailor and a French privateer; Erika Rath, the rough-and-tough owner of the Faithful Bride tavern, who had been a pirate herself before settling in Tortuga to offer a safe place to those who were too ill, young, old, or otherwise unable to sail anymore; Ethan Parkin, Skye’s father and a retired pirate himself, who, despite being a rather egotistical sort that disdained Orion quite a bit, still was always willing to do the crew of the Artemis and their associates a favor, for the sake of his daughter; and a pirate solely called “Face Paint” who was known on the island for being a master of disguise that could not only look like anyone they wanted, but also make other people look like just about anyone else too.

Andre and Face Paint were able to help out all three Weasleys with their wardrobes, so that they “fit” a bit more with the pirates of the island. Bill picked out a new belt that could better fit a scabbard for his sword, and Jules finally got a hat worthy of a captain -- a forest green tricorn hat trimmed with silver embroidery. Charlie was even able to snatch up a pair of boots made of a black scaly material that reminded him of the pictures of dragons he’d see in books as a kid. Charlie had expected Andre to encourage him to shave too, since both he and Bill were already getting a bit stubbly since they hadn’t shaved since they left Port Royal, but Andre actually discouraged this.

“If people know you better without a beard, then you should grow one,” he advised. “The more different you can look from how you did before, the better the chances you’ll have of not immediately being recognized, if you collide with the wrong person. In general, my advice is to change your look up every four to six months, just to throw off the authorities.”

Bill, Jules, and Charlie also accompanied Orion on his visit to the far corner of Tortuga, over a small lake to an eerie-looking worn-down shack on stilts in the middle of the water, which was the home to the resident “witch” of Tortuga.

“Have you ever met a witch before?” Jules asked Bill and Charlie.

Both Weasley brothers shook their heads, looking a little disconcerted.

“She’s truly not as terrifying as everyone makes her out to be,” said McNully reassuringly. “I’d say there’s only a 63% chance she’ll curse you if you make a wrong move.”

Charlie shot him a flabbergasted look. “Oh, that’s encouraging.”

Skye gave a light “hmph!”

“My best piece of advice? Try not to make eye contact and let Orion do the talking,” she said under her breath. “The witch can do favors for you, if you somehow get on her good side and give her proper payment...but she doesn’t trust easily.”

“And likes anyone even more rarely,” added McNully, though he sounded more thoughtful than Skye. “Orion’s one of the few people I’d say she does favor a bit...though I reckon that’s because they go back a ways, and Orion’s not really like most pirates...”

“It’s pirates especially she doesn’t like,” said Skye.

Charlie frowned. “If she doesn’t like pirates, then why is she here, on an island owned by pirates?”

“I reckon witches probably don’t have a lot of safe places they can live as it is, Charlie,” Bill pointed out somberly. “Even the Bible says you should not suffer a witch to live. She probably lives here because she doesn’t have much choice.”

When they reached the dock under the shack, they tied up their boat, McNully staying behind to watch it while Orion, Skye, Jules, Bill, and Charlie climbed the ladder up into the shack itself. It was a bizarre place with various bottles, model planets, and other such trinkets dangling from the ceiling, and toward the back of the single large room was a table covered in a dirty grayish white tablecloth covered in spots and stains.

The witch called Chia Dalma was almost ethereal in appearance, from her long, flowing white hair to her sea-blue eyes to her bloodless, porcelain skin. She wore a rather worn, clearly second-hand dark red dress and a full-moon-shaped locket around her neck. She also considered all of Orion’s party with considerable distrust in her eyes -- Charlie felt like he was being X-rayed. Orion, however, acted as though he didn’t even notice the scrutiny the others were getting and spoke to Chia very pleasantly after giving her some incense and a jar of candied pineapple.

“How are the stars sounding, to you?” he asked. “From what I’ve seen, Venus is particularly bright, right now -- I would think you’ve heard a lot about love, in your conversations with the night sky.”

Chia finally tore her critical eye off of Charlie to turn to Orion, her posture still noticeably guarded.

“Yes,” she said, “though I believe there’s a reason you noticed Venus’s brightness in particular, as opposed to the rest of the planets’ movements.”

Her voice was very soft and understated, enough to make you freeze where you stood and hold your breath in a subconscious attempt to hear her better. Despite this, her discerning look on Orion was considerably less suspicious: if anything, it looked almost curious.

A flicker of a smile teased at the corners of Orion’s mouth.

“...I suppose I may have.”

Bill and Charlie both shot Orion looks out the side of their eye. They had a feeling they knew exactly why that was.

Bill and Jules had talked to Charlie about their suspicions about Orion and Carewyn, and although Jules had been very supportive of it and even Bill acknowledged that Orion did seem to feel genuine affection for Carewyn, Charlie himself still felt a bit uncomfortable about it. To him, Carewyn was his twin -- although in a lot of ways, she was more like Bill personality-wise and Bill and she were clearly the best of friends, Charlie and Carewyn had still been two peas in a pod for a lot of the War. Because they were seen as twin brothers by the Navy, they were often positioned together and ended up supporting each other whenever Bill -- the person they both loved and trusted more than anyone else -- wasn’t around. This whole experience was the first time he’d really been apart from Carewyn since he’d first joined the Navy...and with Bill now married to Jules and the whole world suddenly being against them...Charlie found himself missing his “twin” more than ever.

‘Orion’s not a bad bloke,’ Charlie thought to himself. ‘If Carey really likes him, I’d understand, but...I just don’t want things to change anymore than they already have...’

Becoming estranged from Percy had been hard enough. Knowing that Bill and he would drift apart as his older brother made a life of his own with Jules, and thinking of Carewyn making a life of her own with Orion, while he himself was left on the sidelines...it was a thought Charlie didn’t like wallowing in.

Chia regarded Orion with a more solemn look as she took a seat at her table.

“It would behoove you to take a more complete look at the planets,” she said lowly. “There’s friction growing between Saturn and Uranus.”

Orion’s eyes narrowed, though his expression remained typically serene. Charlie glanced from Orion to Chia.

“...What does that mean?” he asked.

Skye shot him a look as if to warn him to be quiet -- Chia turned her attention to Charlie, her blue eyes boring into him with such intensity that Charlie flinched back a bit despite himself.

“Saturn represents Law -- a rigid structure,” she answered lowly. “Uranus, his father, represents Disorder -- Unpredictability -- Rebellion and Reformation. It suggests that there is to be great upheaval, very soon -- a large shift, the likes of which none of you have seen in your lifetimes.”

Charlie’s eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Bigger than the War?”

Chia’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“That was a War fought solely for the advancement of a few,” she said, her voice noticeably cool. “However big it felt to you, Charles Weasley, it merely reinforced what was already there, and so it will ultimately be forgotten. Only the ripples of that War -- the ones we feel, in this moment -- will leave any real impact.”

Charlie wanted to ask how Chia knew his name, but Orion spoke before he could.

“Can you tell which planet is rising, of the two?”

Chia glanced up at the model planets over her head pensively. “Right now, no. They’re on a collision course in the night sky, set to eclipse each other...but I can’t say which will fall first...and what will fall here on Earth, in response.”

Chia’s eyes drifted from Orion to Charlie to Jules, narrowing a bit more critically as she considered each of them in turn.

“One thing is for sure, though -- when two such powerful planets meet, it signals the end of an age. Whatever’s born from the ashes of that end may be up to whomever is fortunate enough to survive.”

The group left Chia Dalma’s feeling considerably less comfortable than when they arrived. Despite this, and despite how weirded out he was that she’d known who he was before he’d even told her his name, Charlie had to admit to himself that she didn’t seem as scary as Skye or McNully had made her out to be. She kind of reminded him of the ocean in a way -- mysterious and intimidating, sure, but ultimately something worthy of respect. Even just the way she spoke seemed to hint to her being much older than her face would suggest.

No one in the group had any idea what Chia Dalma could’ve meant when she discussed “an great upheaval” until over a week later. That was the day that the Flying Dutchman arrived on the shores of Tortuga and, without any warning, opened fire.

It was Hell the likes of which even Bill or Charlie had never seen. Cannonballs blasted through buildings, smashing windows and shattering walls. Before long, whole buildings were coming down and crushing people as they fled. Then the Flying Dutchman’s crew came ashore, undead and rotten and crusted over with barnacles and sea-life, as if they’d been swallowed up and spat back out of the sea itself -- and they killed and captured by the hundreds, with both swords and nets.

Then the Captain of the Dutchman himself, his octopus-like face visibly furious as his lobster-like claw clutched at the front of his chest where his heart should be, turned his ire on the settlement itself.

Cutler Beckett wanted him to send the pirates a message, did he? Well, then...he’d send them a message they’d see for miles.

With a click of his claw, Jones conjured up a large, flaming cinder, which he then chucked at the Faithful Bride. In an instant, it was set ablaze...and all of the pirates trying to hide inside the tavern were soon forced to flee and be captured, or burn to death. The fire spread from roof to roof, and soon all of Tortuga was in flames.

In the midst of the chaos, the crews of the Artemis and the Revolution hurried back to their ships, preparing to retreat. As Charlie ran behind Jules and Bill, however, he stopped abruptly when he caught sight of a white-haired figure being shoved around inside the crowd. It was Chia Dalma. She looked like she was trying to push through, but the horde was quickly devolving around her, trapping her in once spot.

Making up his mind very quickly, Charlie darted back the way he came.

“CHARLIE!” cried Bill.

“SET SAIL!” Charlie bellowed back. “I’LL CATCH UP!”

“CHARLIE!” Jules shouted too.

“Wait -- !”

Was that Orion’s voice? Charlie had never heard him sound tense like that before. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop. He pressed on, unsheathing his sword as he pushed and shoved the other pirates aside.

“Move! Bugger off!”

Finally he was able to make his way over to Chia Dalma, just in time to block a block a blow from a shark-headed sailor’s sword.

“Oi!” he said angrily. “Leave the lady alone, you toothy maggot!”

The two immediately started to fight, until Charlie managed to get the upper hand by slashing at his flipper-like leg and then shoving him back off his feet through the window of a house.

He turned to Chia Dalma.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The witch’s gaze was just as piercing and guarded as it had been before as she analyzed Charlie’s face.

“Yes,” she said softly.

Charlie offered her a smile, even as more sailors charged at them.

“Stick close to me, all right?” he told her.

“You can’t win against the crew of the Flying Dutchman,” said Chia very gravely.

“Not with that attitude!” said Charlie almost cheekily. Seeing the severe look on her face, he said a little more seriously, “Look, I get that you don’t trust me -- I don’t know you at all either -- but I’m not just going to sit back and watch someone die if I can help it. And if this is the crew of Davy Jones, you’ll die if you stay here.”

The sentiment seemed to cause Chia visible pain. Her eyes abruptly hardened.

“Do not speak with such certainty about Davy Jones,” she said very sharply. “He may be a heartless being now, but that doesn’t make him devoid of conscience, or of feeling.”

Charlie frowned deeply and was prepared to ask Chia what she meant, but before he could, he soon found himself faced with another crew member from the Dutchman with a face covered in barnacles and starfish and had to immediately go on the attack again.

Charlie fought off three other fishy sailors, beating them back as best he could as she tried to steer himself and Chia back toward the docks. But as more time passed, the flames engulfing the nearby buildings only grew. Soot and ash rained from the air, making it harder to breathe by the second.

Charlie struggled to breathe normally as he fought the sailors away from Chia Dalma, but there were just too many of them, and just like with the cursed crew of the Revenge, they didn’t go down easily. Somehow, he managed to steer Chia to the dock, where the Revolution was still floating close by, their anchor already weighed and a ladder dangling off the edge.

“COME ON, CHARLIE!” cried Bill.

Coughing hard, Charlie brought an arm around Chia Dalma, pushing her slightly forward.

“Go on, climb up -- ”

BAM.

All of a sudden, Chia whirled on Charlie, grabbing hold of him and shoving him backward and to the ground just in time to avoid a giant explosion of flames that collided with the dock. The force of the explosion made the ocean water around the island crash, shoving the Revolution back with the force.

“CHARLIE!”

Charlie could hear both Bill and Jules’s voices as the ship was thrown backward away from the island by a massive, torrential wave. His heart gave a spasm of terror as he stared at the red-hulled ship being tossed like a bath toy in the chaos.

“BILL! JULES!”

Within moments, Charlie and Chia Dalma were surrounded by the Flying Dutchman’s crew. Charlie immediately stood in front of Chia protectively as they were encircled. The witch, for her part, looked disconcerted by the Dutchman’s crew’s appearance, but not in the way that she looked afraid -- if anything, she almost looked deeply troubled.

“There’s reluctance, in their eyes,” she murmured.

Charlie glanced back at her. “Huh?”

Chia’s lips came together seriously. “You know the purpose of the Flying Dutchman?”

“Yeah -- it’s supposed to ferry the dead.”

As Charlie considered this, he realized that this was strange. Why would a crew that was supposed to ferry those lost at sea into the next life be attacking Tortuga?

Chia nodded solemnly. “They’re not here of their own free will. Neither they nor Davy Jones...have come here because they wish to.”

Charlie felt his jaw clench as he stared down the circle of sailors holding up nets and pointing their swords at them as they prepared to capture them.

“Maybe they haven’t, but that doesn’t make them our mates,” he muttered.

Just as it seemed that Charlie was out-numbered, there was a loud rumbling down the street. A whole cart full of barrels were rolling right down the street, right at them.

Chia abruptly grabbed hold of the back of Charlie’s shirt and in an instant, the two had levitated about four feet off the ground, just in time to avoid the throng of barrels knocking over the Dutchman’s crew like nine pins.

As Chia and Charlie slowly returned to the ground, they were joined by another pirate -- a rather striking blonde with emerald-colored eyes. She held a pistol in one hand and her sword in the other as she rolled down the street on one of the barrels, jumping off of it to land on Chia’s other side.

“You both all right?” she asked, as she lifted her leg just enough that she could catch the barrel she’d arrived on with her foot.

“...Aye,” said Charlie after a moment, still a bit in awe about having just been floating in the air like a cloud. “Thanks, uh...?”

“Samantha O’Connell,” she introduced herself quickly.

Charlie blinked. “The Pirate Dragon?”

Both Samantha and he immediately had to duck to avoid a grenade being chucked over at them. It seemed some of the Dutchman’s sailors had recovered from the “barrel attack” and were coming back.

“Look, I’m all for introductions and ‘how-do-you-do’s,’” said Samantha with a wry smile, “but right now, we’d better move!”

Urging Chia in front of her, she then ran down the street away from the dock, Charlie at her heels.

It seemed that the infamous “Pirate Dragon” and Charlie also had a mutual friend in Orion Amari. Despite persuading both crews to “keep to the Pirate Code” (namely, that whoever falls behind is left behind), Samantha nonetheless had enough honor to -- upon seeing Charlie and Chia had been separated from the others -- backtrack enough to make sure they got away too, even if it couldn’t be on the Artemis or Revolution.

“I have my own ketch here at the eastern dock, which I’ll be taking back to my ship,” she explained as they ran. “There are a few others you can choose from, to steer yourself and Ms. Dalma here to Shipwreck Cove -- you’ll be safe there...”

“Shipwreck Cove?” repeated Charlie.

Chia Dalma’s eyes flashed at the name.

“The home of the Brethren Court,” she murmured very icily.

Samantha shot Chia a frown.

“Look, I get it if you don’t like going to another pirate haven, but it’s really the safest place, now. I doubt even Jones himself knows how to get there -- and once all the Pirate Lords assemble, we can come up with a plan to deal with this.”

Samantha immediately boarded the small blue-painted boat, preparing to cast off. Charlie was frowning more deeply than ever in confusion as he jumped aboard a neighboring red-painted ketch.

“There are Pirate Lords?” he asked.

“Of course -- the owners of the seven Pieces of Eight, representing each of the seven seas,” Samantha said logically, as if it were common knowledge. “Or at least six out of the seven -- the Piece of Eight representing the Pacific Ocean was lost after its Lord, Bartholomew Sharp, died...anyway, Orion’s one of the Lords too, so he’ll be able to show your sister-in-law the way and you can meet the rest of your crew there -- ”

Charlie could hear a lot of shouting and pillaging growing louder in the distance. Soon the Flying Dutchman’s crew would be on top of them again --

He quickly threw out a hand, offering it to Chia Dalma. “Come on -- we’d better hurry.”

Chia glanced back in the direction of the flaming city, her blue eyes narrowing. It almost seemed like she was conflicted.

“Listen, Ms. Dalma,” said Samantha sharply, “Jones is under the control of the East India Trading Company and the British Navy.”

Both Charlie and Chia Dalma straightened up abruptly, visibly shocked.

“I overheard Jones say that Beckett’s orders had been to ‘send a message to all pirates.’ That can only mean that Beckett has some leverage over Jones and has impressed him into service. We can’t hope to deal with Jones until we deal with Beckett’s leverage first, and to do that, we have to deal with Beckett.”

Chia once again looked at the flaming buildings, her eyes rippling with emotions Charlie couldn’t read. Then, at last, she closed her eyes, swallowed, and turned to Charlie, taking his hand and boarding the boat.

“See you in Shipwreck Cove!” said Samantha, shooting a bright smile over her shoulder at Charlie. “Good luck!”

Charlie watched her go, before weighing anchor and immediately setting sail with Chia Dalma himself.

The crew of the Flying Dutchman only arrived just in time to see the two ketches already floating off into the distance and out of sight. Chia herself stood at the railing of the boat long after Tortuga had disappeared over the horizon, holding the moon-shaped locket around her neck in her hand. Charlie pulled on the rigging to pull the sail toward the starboard side, glancing over at her with some sympathy.

“You knew Jones...didn’t you?”

Chia glanced back at Charlie, her eyes very unreadable. Then she returned her gaze to the horizon.

Charlie secured the rigging, knotting it tightly.

“...I understand how hard it is, to have to leave someone behind. There’s someone I’ve left behind too -- two people, in fact...who are also probably having to bow to the whims of Cutler Beckett, even if I’m sure they don’t want to...”

The memory of Percy’s pleading face and Carewyn’s stoicism in the face of her heartbreak both rippled over his mind.

“Charlie – don’t do this – think of Mum – think of us – ”

“I want you on a vessel so strong and so fast…that I can never catch up to you again.”

Charlie closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling heavily.

“...Sometimes, though...the only way you can really help them is by leaving them...however hard it is.”

There was a silence. Charlie opened his eyes and headed up to the helm, turning the wheel to help steer the boat through the waves.

While he was piloting the boat, however, he was interrupted by the soft clink. Chia Dalma had placed something on the edge of the deck within Charlie’s reach.

“This is for you, Charles Weasley,” she said.

Charlie blinked and picked it up. It was an old pewter button encrusted with gold and decorated with the icon of an anchor and an intricate cursive “S.”

“Oh, ah...thank you,” said Charlie awkwardly. He turned the button over in his hand. “...What’s the ‘S’ stand for?”

“Sharp,” Chia responded. “Bartholomew Sharp.”

Charlie straightened up. “The Pirate Lord Samantha mentioned?”

Chia inclined her head in a nod. “That is his Piece of Eight. Sharp abandoned his duties as Pirate Lord of the Pacific Ocean long before dying in prison in disgrace, and since then, it has been largely forgotten, by both pirates and honest explorers alike. It’s the last untamed sea, of the seven...”

Her blue eyes bore into Charlie’s face.

“...And now...it will be your responsibility...Pirate Lord Charles Weasley.”

#potc au #au #pirates of the caribbean #my art #my writing #chiara lobosca #charlie weasley #bill weasley #jules farrier #finn mcgarry #samantha o'connell #other people's mcs #orion amari #murphy mcnully #skye parkin #ethan parkin #erika rath #face paint kid #andre egwu #my fanfiction #DUN DUN DUN #my precious charlie a pirate lord!!#i'm so pwoud #X3 #yes I know charlie's not a captain yet which is usually a requirement to be a pirate lord but hey #the pacific ocean interestingly was VERY unaffected by the golden age of piracy #there was the expedition done by privateers like bartholomew sharp as mentioned but that was pretty solidly in the 17th century #sharp even died in prison in 1700 #so around this period there wasn't much happening in the pacific ocean outside of piracy closer to china and singapore #and the south china sea is also one of the 'seven seas' with a lord

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breanime · 5 years

Text

Rewrite the Stars (Part Two)

Part Two is a tad bit lengthy, but I think you’ll like it! Thank you to everyone who’s read/reblogged/liked/commented the first one. Don’t forget to follow me if you haven’t already!

*gif not mine*

You woke up to an insistent knocking on your door. Dragging yourself out of bed, you ripped the door open to reveal an impatient Reepicheep.

“Y/N,” he tutted in annoyance, “you were supposed to report to me at dawn with the routes—you look awful.”

You leaned your head against the doorframe. You didn’t doubt it. “I overslept,” you replied, voice sore from crying into your pillow all night. “Sorry, Reep.”

“Nevermind that,” he looked up at you, frowning, “Are you alright? You look ill.”

You almost laughed. Being heartsick was not the same as being sick. “I’m fine,” you straightened up—you were a soldier, you could pull yourself together. “I have the routes we picked right...” You turned and looked at the side table beside your bed. The maps weren’t there. You shut your eyes. You’d left them in the library last night after Caspian… Sighing, you turned back to Reepicheep. “I must have left the maps in the library, let me get dressed and I’ll go get them so we can go over them together.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Reep asked again, tilting his head.

You nodded. “I’m fine. I’ll meet you in the courtyard,” you said before shutting the door. You tried to get ready quickly—you had already lost time by sleeping in and moping, now you were making Reep wait even longer. You peeked out your window, cursing under your breath. The sun was high in the sky. You thought about how you would react when you saw Caspian again as you pulled your boots on. It hurt just thinking of him, but you were sure that you did the right thing. What he felt for you was just an infatuation. It could never be sustainable, it could never be real. You glanced at yourself in the mirror before you left; your sword was on your hip, you wore dark leather pants with a pair of your father’s old boots, you had a dagger strapped to your right foot. You were proud of your role as kingsguard—it made you feel so happy, so fulfilled. But as you looked at your own reflection, you couldn’t hep but think… you were the furthest thing from a proper lady…

…the furthest thing from what Caspian deserved.

The path you took to the library was shrouded in shadows—which was exactly what you wanted. Your goal was to avoid as many people as possible, especially Caspian. By this time in the day, he would probably be meeting with his advisors or supervising the preparation of the Dawn Treader, but you figured you couldn’t be too careful. You snuck into the library and snatched up the maps. They were still right where you’d left them after Caspian kissed you…and you kissed him back. You spun around on your heels, ready to make a run for the courtyard, and froze when you saw the door opening.

Caspian’s eyes widened as he stepped through and saw you.

“Caspian—my King,” you corrected yourself, suddenly breathless, “G—good morning.”

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said back. He was wearing a long burgundy coat with gold trimmings. He looked regal. He looked gorgeous. He cleared his throat. “Reepicheep asked for me to meet you two in here to discuss the routes we chose,” he glanced around the room, “Am I early?”

“No,” you held the rolled-up maps close to you, trying to put up some kind of barrier between your heart and his, “But, um, I just spoke to Reepicheep, we were to meet in the courtyard—him and I, I mean.”

Caspian shrugged. “I guess he changed his mind.” His hands flexed at his side before he brought one up to gesture to the table you stood by. “May I sit?”

“Of course,” you dropped the maps and pulled a chair out for him. Caspian walked over to you, and your shoulders brushed when he stepped up to claim his seat. You both froze. Caspian was taller than you, and you swallowed as you slowly looked up at him. He was so close, staring down at you. You could smell him—he smelt like the sea, like sandalwood, like adventure and comfort and a promise of things to come. You should have stepped back, but you couldn’t convince your feet to move, and apparently neither could he.

“I…” Caspian licked his lips, and your eyes followed the movement desperately, “I went to your chambers last night. After we… After you left from here. I wandered the castle for hours and ended up going right back to you.” Your eyes widened as he went on. “I wanted to… To try to speak with you, but then I realized,” his hand hovered near your face, but he dropped it without touching you, “I should give you your space.”

Your heart stopped. What was he saying? “Are you taking me off the kingsguard?” You asked, panic creeping into your voice.

“No! No, of course not, I would never—”

“—and the voyage? Am I still to sail with you on the Dawn Treader?” You asked.

“Yes, of course,” Caspian assured you quickly, “I wouldn’t dream of leaving without you. The kingsguard, the Dawn Treader—I would never take those things from you, Y/N, you’ve earned them.” His voice dropped. “I just meant I realized that I should give you your space from me. I chased you when you ran off,” he clarified, “and I shouldn’t have done that. I said I wouldn’t force you to do anything, and I won’t. And I didn’t, obviously, didn’t go further than standing in front of your door last night, but I shouldn’t have even done that. I’d like to apologize for that,” he took a breath, “I’m sorry.”

You gave yourself a moment to process everything he’d just said. You had no idea he’d come to see you last night, you probably never would have known if he hadn’t told you. “It’s okay,” you said, “you don’t have to apologize. I should apologize.”

“Did you mean what you said last night?” He asked, eyes burning anew.

“Caspian…”

“Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

You closed your eyes. You couldn’t answer him while staring into those eyes. “I meant it when I said we could never be together,” you said into the darkness, “It would never work, and you should know that, Caspian.”

“Look at me,” he said, his voice low and deep. You didn’t obey. “Y/N.” You felt the heat from his body, so close to you, and it felt like you could burn to ashes from it. “Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes. His eyes were on your face, so dark and deep, and they were filled with emotion as he looked at you. “I know you meant it.”

You opened your mouth but shut it as you heard laughter near the door. You nearly knocked over a chair when you jumped away from Caspian. Reepicheep, Lord Drinian, and two of the sailors from the Dawn Treader came laughing and talking through the door. You glanced at Caspian and saw that he was frowning at the intrusion, but you were thankful for it.

“Ah, Y/N,” Reepicheep said cheerfully, “I see you found our new meeting spot. Good!”

“My King,” Drinian said, bowing to Caspian before he turned to you, serious face as familiar to you as your own, “Y/N.”

“Captain,” you greeted back.

“Shall we take a look at our options?” He asked, sitting at the table. The rest of you followed his lead, and you spent the rest of the morning locked away with the men, planning your journey. At some point, one of Caspian’s advisor popped in to tell him he was needed in the throne room.

“Lady Clearwater,” he said, a bright smile on his face, “has brought her lovely daughter to present to you.”

You felt yourself tense up but made an effort to keep your face neutral. Lady Clearwater was one of the wealthiest women in the land, and her daughter was famous for her beauty and family legacy. You’d never met the Clearwaters, but you knew they were old money and that their family had a history with Caspian’s. They would probably make a good match together.

Caspian frowned. “Why?” He asked.

“To make a match of the two of you,” Reep answered with a grin, “why else?”

Caspian’s eyes flickered over to you, but you pretended to be engrossed in the maps laid out in front of you. He cleared his throat. “Well, please give them both my apologies, but I’m otherwise engaged,” he said diplomatically.

“Nonsense,” Drinian spoke up, “We’ve nearly finished here, my King, the rest of us can make the last few decisions while you attend to the Ladies Clearwater.”

“But I—” Caspian began.

“—Y/N will fill you in on anything we decide in your absence,” Reep assured him before turning to you, “Won’t you, dear one?”

You nodded, not looking up from the table. “Of course.” You felt Caspian’s eyes on you still.

“I shouldn’t be long,” Caspian said, an edge to his voice. You heard the sound of his chair being pushed back and didn’t look up until you heard the door shut behind him.

Hm. This was… This was good. It was what he deserved, what you wanted for him. The Clearwaters were a wealthy, reputable family that had a lot of influence throughout Narnia. If the young Lady Clearwater was half as beautiful as any of the maidens from the castle, you were sure Caspian would take well to her. The men continued working, speaking of caverns and obstacles and alternative routes, but you barely heard them. Usually you’d be just as engrossed in the conversation as anyone else—more so, even—but your mind was occupied with thoughts of Caspian. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl in his absence, and you wondered if he was still meeting with the Clearwaters. Maybe he didn’t take well to the daughter. Or maybe they were together right now, maybe Lady Clearwater snuck away and now the two of them were left alone together. Maybe he was smiling down at her even now. Maybe he was holding her in his arms, kissing her, maybe he had already forgotten about you. You felt your skin turn cold and wrapped your arms around yourself. When had it gotten so cold? You bit your lip, willing yourself to pay attention and attend to your duties. Reepicheep was looking at you, eyebrow raised, when you looked back at your remaining companions.

Some time later, the council had concluded. You were fairly happy with the route you’d all agreed on—you’d be happier if your brain would stop circling back to Caspian. Or was it your heart that was doing that? He’d never come back from his meeting with Lady Clearwater and her daughter. Your imagination was working overtime, conjuring all kinds of scenarios involving the two of them that would explain his extended absence. You had asked one of Caspian’s staff to alert you when he was available, so you could give him the maps and charts you’d drawn up, but that had been hours ago. You tried to busy yourself; you packed for the trip, you took a walk around the castle (which ended up being a bad idea because you were scared of running into Caspian and her the whole time), you taught a group of little girls how to safely draw their swords while on a horse, you went to the Dawn Treader and helped the crew set the ship up—and still no word from Caspian. You had asked Reepicheep—very casually—if he’d seen the King.

“I wanted to update him on our progress from this morning,” you said, pretending to be more interested in packing up extra blankets for the crew, “but I haven’t been able to catch him.”

“I believe he went to the Clearwater mansion for lunch,” Reepicheep reported slowly, “and to see their lands.”

Oh. “Oh.” You blinked, staring down at your hands bunched in the blankets, “I see.”

“Y/N…” Reep climbed up, standing on the blankets so that you were forced to look him in the eye, “Is there something you want to tell me?” He chuckled softly at your blank stare. “Oh, dear one, you don’t have to hide from me. I know what’s going on between you two.”

“I—there’s—nothing’s—” you stammered, “Between who?”

“Between you and Caspian, of course,” he said back, “Anyone with eyes can see that the lad’s crazy about you, and you feel the same way.”

You felt your face heat up. “You shouldn’t gossip, Reepicheep,” you admonished him, frowning, “especially not about the King.”

Reep rolled his eyes. “You children are preposterous,” he muttered, “Fine, have it your way.” He jumped down, turning to walk away before he stopped and looked back up at you. “You realize,” he said, eyebrow raised, “this will make things quite difficult for you—for the both of you, I’d imagine—tomorrow when we take off.”

Though you’d never admit it, Reepicheep was right. It had been hard enough to maintain a sense of self-control when you sailed with Caspian before—but now. It would be an entirely new challenge to keep yourself in check now that you’d felt his lips against yours and heard him say “I love you” in that deep, breathy voice of his. You’d see him 24/7, all day, every day while you were at sea—with the wind in his hair, wild and free and in his element. Except maybe he wouldn’t come now. He was clearly enjoying spending time with the young Lady Clearwater, perhaps he’d decided to send you all off on your own and take time to be with his new…friend. You clenched your jaw just thinking about it. You looked down at yourself, taking notice of your clenched jaw and closed fists, and you couldn’t deny that you were very obviously wound up tight. Caspian couldn’t see you like this. It was bad enough that Reep knew, you didn’t need the rest of the crew getting suspicious as well. You decided to burn off some anger—and anxiety, and sadness, and jealousy—by heading to the armory and taking a few swings at the straw dummies.

Time seemed to slow down as you worked through your emotions. Your arms and legs were getting sore, but you didn’t stop to slow down. In fact, you leaned into the soreness, the pain. You wiped a sheen of sweat off of your forehead and took a step back. The straw dummies were starting to fall apart.

“Reepicheep says you’ve been here all night,” Caspian’s voice made you turn. He was standing in the doorway, a small frown on his face.

You nodded, chest heaving. “I have.” You sheathed your sword. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“I just returned,” he was taking his coat off as he spoke, “I was visiting with Lady Clearwater and Adeline.”

“Is that the daughter?” You asked dryly.

“Yes,” he hung his coat up, “She’s a very lovely woman.”

“I’m sure,” you said back, “What are you doing?”

“Training,” he answered simply, “Reep let me know which routes we will be taking tomorrow.”

“Great.”

“It seems that everything is set for tomorrow,” he went on, “Adeline will be coming to see us—to see me—off.”

“Hm,” you tried to keep your expression neutral, “That’s kind of her.”

“It is. She’s a very sweet girl,” Caspian grabbed a sword from the wall, “Have you had the pleasure of meeting her before?”

“No,” you watched as he tested the weight of the sword, “I hear she’s quite beautiful.” You were proud of yourself—you didn’t even cringe as you spoke.

Caspian made a shrugging motion. “She’s a very lovely girl,” he replied coolly. He turned to you. “Raise your sword.”

You did. You and Caspian often sparred on the ship, but this was different. There was a tension between you two now, clear and thick. You rolled your neck as you watched Caspian, lithe and silent, survey you. His dark eyes traveled down your body and back up to your face. You could see the tension in his jaw. You felt a warmth go through you, a familiar warmth that was specific to Caspian, and tried to push it down. You unsheathed your sword, gripping it tight in your hands.

Caspian’s eyes narrowed at you. “Ready when you are.”

You sprang towards him, and Caspian put up his sword, blocking your blow. The clang of metal on metal filled the open space. The two of you traded blows—careful not to hurt each other—in silence for what felt like hours. Caspian had a talent for being able to predict your moves, but you knew his just as well. He knew exactly when to duck just like you knew when to spin away from him and when to get in close. Your swords clanged together in perfect harmony, and you felt some of the tension finally start to ease out of you. Caspian’s hair was starting to get wet from sweat, and some strands stuck to his forehead as he moved about, dodging your strikes. You twirled away from him, blocking a blow from him before lashing out. You smirked when he let out a little “whoa” as he rotated to avoid the strike.

“You’re getting a little sloppy,” you grinned, sword pressed against his. He was stronger than you, but you had the firmer stance. “Must be all that fine dining with the Clearwaters.”

Caspian laughed and it was music to your ears. “I think I’m holding my own pretty well,” he said. Your mouth fell open when you felt Caspian’s hand on your hip. He pulled you flush against him, making you drop your sword. You put both hands on his chest but couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. His hand was warm on your waist, and his dark eyes were boring into yours. “Y/N,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “you look so beautiful right now.”

You? Beautiful? You were covered in sweat and had just been faux-attacking him with a sword. “Caspian…” You breathed out.

He put his other hand on your face, and you could have melted then and there. He didn’t say anything, he just stroked your face. His eyes were soft, and you could have drowned in them. Carefully, Caspian leaned in closer to you. He was making an effort to slow down his advance in case you wanted to stop him. You didn’t. In fact, you leaned in first, closing the last few inches between he two of you, and softly pressing your lips to his. This kiss was different from the first one—the first kiss had been a dream, it was all you could do to just accept that it was happening. This kiss…this kiss you leaned into. You put your hands on either side of his face and let your emotions take over. Caspian pulled you closer, hands gripping your hips. You opened your mouth and sighed when you felt Caspian’s tongue slip in. He was so close, but you wanted him closer. You felt the need well up in you, strong enough to make your knees buckle—or maybe that was just Caspian. Finally, you both had to breathe, and you stared at each other when you pulled back. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face—after worrying all day, he was here, in your arms, mouth only a few inches from yours.

Caspian wasn’t smiling. You watched him swallow. “Do you still think this is impossible?” He asked you.

You blinked. Your brain seemed to be running slowly now that you’d had his tongue in his mouth. “I…” Caspian took his hands off of you and stepped back. You felt freezing cold without his body heat. “It’s—I…”

“Y/N,” his voice was firm, “Do you still think this is impossible? You and I?”

Your hands flexed at your sides. “It’s—it’s not just what I think, it’s—it’s the way things are, it just wouldn’t—”

“—Enough,” he closed his eyes before sheathing his sword and running a hand through his hair. “Y/N, I want to be with you, but I can’t…” He shook his head. “I can’t take this hopelessness.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you said back, “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Caspian, but I can’t pretend that we could be together, I know better.”

Caspian nodded slowly, eyes roaming around the armory until they landed back on you. “We set sail on the first light,” he said, voice professional, “Is the ship prepared?”

“Yes,” you answered, “Everything is ready to go.”

Caspian bent down and picked up your sword, handing it to you before stepping back again. “And the provisions?”

“All taken care of,” you reported.

“Good.” He nodded again before turning away and stalking towards the door. You thought he would just leave, but he stopped right at the entrance. He turned back to you, his expression sad. “Adeline will be sailing with us,” he said, “I…It’s been suggested that I should spend more time with her.” He looked away from you. “I trust you’ll make sure she has her own cabin for tomorrow. I want her to be comfortable.”

You watched him walk away, mouth open and eyes wide.

So this is how it would end.

*************************************************************************************

Uh-oh! That was a mood kill! As always, please let me know what you think of this chapter. I’m one of those “needs validation” kind of bitches, haha!

Everything Taglist: @banditthewriter @teacuplotus @elanor-of-imladris @ymariejp @drinix @something-tofightfor @whitewolfssilverfox

Rewrite the Stars Taglist (lemme know if you want to be added or removed from this list): @songtoyou @ladyblablabla @sithskywalkers @eternal-heavcns

#caspian x reader #caspian imagine #rewrite the stars #part two

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traitorinthemidst · 5 years

Text

The Fragrance of Familiarity

Losing most of the control in his balance, Edmund’s body lurched forward before cascading downward the instant after Caspian cupped his hand around his neck and tugged him toward his lips. He couldn't resist the pull of the situation or the definite pull of gravity. The slight loss of control was rather enthralling. It spoke of the power and potential Caspian’s body held in pleasuring him. Edmund’s stomach twisted into a knot, the feeling exciting him further despite it being the same response his edgy body felt before a battle or a debut or a debate. It was a sign of risk, the unknown, but Edmund had learned to embrace the tethering of his body and mind, knowing that the payoff of embracing whatever happened from this point on could only end with his personal gain or loss and no one else was else at stake.

When Caspian pulled their lips to meet, it forced another part of their bodies together, their center of gravity. In doing so, this created a sensation that was nothing short of euphoric. The closeness more intense and warm than a brotherly hug Edmund that was had been used to receiving from Caspian. This touch, this pressure, had intent and permanence behind it. Edmund didn’t hold back from letting the fullness of his weight settle upon his friend; in fact, he leaned into it, enjoying the warmed and pressure. It felt so damned good. His arms moved from under him and crept up, skimming over both the cool of the silken fabric of the bedclothes and the warmth of the sides of Caspian’s clothed torso. His fingers glided over the hills and valleys of the other man’s muscles that were defined even from through the looseness of the fabric. Edmund counted how many times his fingertips dipped and rose; it helped to measure his breath a little and slow his pace down, though unbeknownst to him. The faint fragrance of the older man, the heat of flesh against flesh, the moisture of lip upon lip, hot and heavy, passionate breathes... It was so satisfying to his senses. Edmund opened his mouth, wanting to deepen this experience and softly nibbled on Caspian’s bottom lip for a moment, trying to prompt himself to keep things measured, to draw out the experience so Caspian could get a taste of the whole affair. He knew how short Caspian’s climax would be when they got to that point. And yet, this wasn’t going to be enough for him, he decided.

“mmmm...”

The sound of sweet, innocent desperation in Caspian’s words had sent the King of Old into a passion, Edmund had wanted to reply with something clever and spirited, but he much preferred having his friend’s mouth covered over his than speaking right now. Still, Edmund needed to keep the momentum of this play going. This was a delicate play of teasing Caspian into wanting to go through with losing his innocence and keeping him desperate enough to throw it away recklessly without thinking too much of what he was doing until things were done and over with. If there was one thing that Edmund preferred in sleeping with men, it was that virginity and purity weren’t seen as so alluring or sweet as it was seen for females. Double standards, that was a social construct that men had created based on the Virgin Mary no doubt, Edmund had imagined as he rolled his eyes while half-listening in his year 12 religion class. Experience and experimentation lead to knowing more of self, at least for Edmund it had. Yet, he applauded anyone who decided to stay pure and whole for whomever they planned on being committed to for their forevers. Edmund knew he couldn’t enjoy that sort of committed relationship without first knowing the love of many. His whole being craved affection and the adventure it took to get there. Some would call that a player in his world, but in Narnia, that was just free and open love.

Having the consent he wanted, Edmund began to turn his attention to further undressing Caspian. Nimble fingers moved back to the ties of Caspian’s shirt. That was coming off. The brunet curled his fingers under the hem of the nightshirt and pulled it up and over Caspian’s torso and head unceremoniously. The woven fabric, soften from a mix of heat and sweat, felt limp in his hands in comparison to the subtle shudders of pleasure and surprise of Caspian’s body as Edmund awaken it with sensuality. The fabric, that Edmund had wanted to wear so desperately only a few hours ago, now only held an essence of the current King of Narnia. Edmund wanted the fullness of the essence, and he would have it. Keeping his reddened lips locked with Caspian’s ones, Edmund stretched his arm away from his body. Without wasting a second longer on the shirt, he relinquished his grasp and let it fell soundlessly to the floor. Now, the King of Old could finally get an eyeful of what he’d only been able to glance on in secret to himself. For the entire year, he’d shared quarters in the stern of the Dawn Treader with Caspian, Edmund had stolen glances and glimpses of the fine physique of the Sailor King. Each time yearning to let his fingertips follow the lines of both muscle and scars there, delighting in how both added character and charm to the older man. But he quickly turned away or lowered his gaze when Caspian would smilingly call him friend or talk of his distaste of the princess suitors his advisors tried to match him with or question him of what things were like in his world. If Caspian only knew how dull and very ordinarily he had to live his life... England didn’t have talking Lions or unicorns and children certainly couldn’t set sail on uncharted sea towards the End of the World. There had been one night, after the Sea Monster battle that had allowed Edmund to foretaste in his longings, but both boys had been bruised and battered in the battle and even Edmund’s desires were lack lustered. Caspian had been asleep in his hammock, while Edmund lay in his hammock awake from the adrenaline of the fight and a desire like he normally held after a great battle. A lantern in the middle of the makeshift room remained lit; both Kings had been too tired and in pain (though unwilling to admit the severity of either thing) to get up to blow it out. So it remained alight, and Edmund’s eyes had adjusted to the soft glow. The sea was calm, despite the damage sustained to the ship the Dawn Treader glided on in the moonlight. The sounds of his movements as he got out of his own hammock and paced across the floor to where Caspian slept had been disguised by the creaking of the boat rocking in the sea. In his sleep, Caspian had tossed his blanket off, Edmund had watched it fell to the ground. Caspian's nightshirt was gathered in a wrinkles mass on his torso, revealing some of the bruises that had already begun to form and cuts that were too minor to bandage that had clotted over nicely. Stooping, Edmund picked up the blanket. The fabric of the blanket was meant for a king, but not nearly as elaborate as the blanket Caspian had bequeathed to Edmund when the two had strung up their hammocks in their makeshift room. The younger boy pulled down Caspian’s shirt, with his thumb and forefinger, while he let his other fingers ghost softly over Caspian’s skin before he spread the blanket over his exhausted friend. Edmund’s body ached, in more than one way. He was uncomfortably reminded of the first days of his meeting Caspian with his siblings. That had been an awkward time for Edmund. He was dealing with the uncomfortable reawakening of his body and needless to say, Caspian made it very hard for him to sleep at night, to think of their mission during the day, and to enjoy the merriment and indulgences during the celebratory party in fear he might overindulge in too much drink and declare too much.

Releasing his claim over Caspain’s mouth, Edmund took a quick moment to take in what he could of the physique of the man beneath him. In the low light, Edmund could make out the glisten of sweat most likely from his earlier bout of illness that had passed and the warmth both of them were entangled in. Each muscle was as well defined as what his mind had imagined when he’d felt the ridges through the fabric. Now that his hand was freed of the shirt, Edmund’s hand shifted to run through Caspian’s hair. His finger ran through the brown locks, twisting his index finger before he tugged at the locks gently at first. Edmund never played gently for long though. And soon it was back to ravishing Caspian’s lips and mouth. His hand stayed in Caspian’s hair, tugging at the locks while his mouth made a play of war with their mouths.

Things were heating up rather quickly. It was then that Edmund mind was catching up with his body. Much to his indignity, he realized that his hips were moving and grinding into Caspian’s to their own rhythm. There was no doubt about it Edmund had quite a hard-on. His hand and body had finally had enough waiting.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Cas.” Fumbling and shifting, Edmund shifted up and away from Caspian to rid himself of his trousers and pants. “I can’t—these are all... just—too much. They’re in the way. I need to, I want to feel you. Shit.”

Removing his clothing had been a lot easier thanks to his being on top and in control of his movements. Edmund stripped off his top as quickly as he had with Caspian’s earlier. The cold air greeted his hot skin as a rush of relief and a bit of a disappointment. But when he shifted and moved his hips off of Caspian’s to remove his clothing, his whole body felt a sudden jolt of disappointment and irritation. Was he moving along too quickly? Would this sudden outburst make Caspian more hesitant?

@hearkenedsouls

#Narnia #Narnia RP #Edmund RP #Verse: [Quiescence and Stagnation]#{And a year later I get a reply for you. I'm so sorry. I have a thousand excuses but it all comes to just not wanting to take the time}#{See everyone this should show you I'm the worse person to RP with until you have the patience of an angel}

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benbarnesfanforever · 6 years

Text

The Signs- Part III

Hey friends! Here is Part III of The Signs. Thanks again to my sweet friend @drinix for the cute idea! If you’d like to be tagged in the next story, please dm me. I hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 4644

Tag list: @drinix @andreacvjetkovic @haritini2000 @lea----b @presstocontinue

You were still in shock that two celebrities were in your studio apartment exchanging what could be their last words. Despite all of the drama that took place the night before, all you could think about was the way Ben looked at you when you opened the door. All you could think about was the way he smelled when he entered your apartment. All you could think about was whether you’d ever see him again. Although Tamia poured her heart out to you about her relationship with Ben and although you felt bad about her situation, after seeing Ben in person and witnessing the caring person he appeared to be, you just couldn’t imagine that he’d be a bad person. Sometimes people love people who they don’t see eye to eye with, and in this case, it appeared that is what happened with Ben and Tamia. But why would you want someone who couldn’t even claim their relationship in public? What if he just wasn’t ready to settle down? The thought of settling down was the last thing that crossed your mind, but the thought of building a friendship with Ben certainly did. You were on your way to graduating with a law degree in Media production, and soon after, you were planning to work full-time and gain all the experience you could at your father’s law firm. So technically, you had no time to date. Not even Ben Barnes if destiny had some weird way of bringing you both together…..

______________________________________________

“Alright, cut!” The director yelled out to the cast. “Let’s take 5.”

Ben walked by Skandar, taking a seat at a nearby fold up chair. His heart was breaking inside and thankfully he had work to take his mind off of things. But Skandar knew that something was wrong, Ben just wasn’t his usual energetic self today.

Skandar pulled up a chair next to Ben, handing him a water bottle.

“You alright, mate?”

Ben looks up at Skandar, his eyes full of pain and sadness.

“No, not really.” Ben says, brushing his hand through his soft dark brown locks.

“Yeah man, I know you must be saddened that your girlfriend left.” Skandar says in a whisper, looking around to see if others on set were listening. “But she’ll be back in a few months.”

Ben looks away, gazing out onto the Dawn Treader ship floating in the ocean.

“That’s just it man…… she isn’t coming back.”

Skandar’s eyes widen.

“What? Seriously? Dude, I am so sorry.”

“No worries man. I could feel it coming. I just couldn’t really do anything at this point to change her mind.”

“Yeah….that’s too bad. I know I haven’t got as much experience with the ladies as you do, but I believe that if you want something badly enough, you’ll do anything to nurture it and maintain it. Like a flower. You have to nurture it with water and sun. If you leave it in the dark without re-potting it, watering it or giving it some sunlight, it’s gonna die.”

Ben went into deep thought.

“Do you think I could have done something different to keep Tamia? I feel like I’ve done everything.”

“I think you did all that you could do given the situation with Disney and Walden. Besides, when talking about the plant, I was referring to you, mate.”

Ben looked down and did some heavy thinking.

“But she did everything to keep me happy….at least I thought she did.”

“If she did, then why did you let her go?”

“I went after her…I tried to convince her not to leave….but she didn’t budge. I begged her not to do this man…”

“Look Ben, I just believe there is a reason for everything. You may not understand it now, but given the emotional roller coaster ride that you two have been on since you started dating, it could be a sign. Maybe you didn’t make your relationship public because your conscious heart wouldn’t let you, while your subconscious heart believed that she was the one you wanted to spend your life with.”

Ben looked confused, but suddenly came to a realization. He never thought of it in that way. If he really loved Tamia, then he wouldn’t have let anything come in the way of claiming her to be his girlfriend. He just didn’t fully under the feeling of really loving someone, unconditionally.

Ben loved talking to Skandar. Although he was 10 years younger than Ben, he always gave him good and solid advice.

“You’re one wise kid, Skandar.” Ben says, finally breaking a smile.

Skandar smiles.

“My family tells me that I am too philosophical.”

“Well, maybe…. just a little.” Ben smiles.

The young men laugh.

Skandar places his hand on Ben’s shoulder.

“You gonna be alright mate?”

Ben smiles.

“Yeah man…thanks for lending an ear.”

“No problem bro. Guess we should head back to work now.”

______________________________________________

Today was your first day of work and you were so excited. As you made your way on set, you suddenly felt an overwhelming nervousness come over you. The cameras, the bright lights, the scripts laying around on tables, the coffee and water stations nearby, the wardrobe rooms to your left, the props hanging everywhere to your right. It was just amazing and you couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous.

You look around and you felt eyes on you as you walked on set. You were told in your internship packet to meet with the executive producer Michael Apted. There were so many people running around that you didn’t even know where to look. It was very overwhelming yet exciting.

As you’re walking, you continue looking at the props and was amazed by what film this could be. You see a large gold and eggplant colored ship sitting in the ocean and thought, “Pirates of the Caribbean? No way!”

Your thought was suddenly interrupted by a very firm yet kind voice.

“Y/N, welcome!” Executive producer Michael Apted says as he approaches you and reaches out to shake your hand.

You nearly drop the stack of folders out of your hands, but manage to catch them before hitting the ground. You reach your hand out to shake Michael’s hand….wow what an honor! Michael Apted is one of the most prolific British producers, with a large number of films across the world under his belt.

“Oh hello Mr. Apted. It is such a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Michael says. “So, as you can see, we are surrounded by an ocean here in Queensland. We are filming the third movie to the Chronicles of Narnia sequel, the Voyage of the Dawn Treader.”

Your mouth nearly drops to the floor in surprise.

Did he just say that I’ll be working on the Chronicles of Narnia sequel? Wasn’t that the same film that….??

“Let’s get you a locker where you can place your things.” Michael says, interrupting your thoughts again and handing you about 5 books, 50 scripts and keys to your locker. “You’ll have a tour, lunch, then you will begin your first day of training. We have lots of scenes that need to be finalized as soon as possible, so I’ll need your first draft revision of the sea serpent scene by dawn.”

You look bewildered but yet so thrilled. You felt like pinching yourself…this can’t be fucking real! Your heart skipped multiple beats at you walked with Michael.

Being the executive producer, Michael got interrupted about 20 times in just the five minutes that you engaged with him. He directed you where to find your locker, so you led yourself through the set and to the locker area.

As you make your way to your locker, you look down at the entire cast script, so excited that you would be part of such an amazing production. As you turn the corner, you bump into a tall gorgeous man, pushing you down to the ground, and all of your belongings dwindling everywhere.

“OOOHH my gosh, I am SO sorry!” The gentleman says, before realizing who he was apologizing too.

You both stop and gaze at one another. That same feeling came over you again, the same feeling that you felt when you first saw him on TV when you watched Prince Caspian with Jackie, that same feeling that you felt when you were on your way to the airport with Jackie and you heard him singing that beautiful melody, that same feeling that you felt when you opened the door to your studio apartment and saw him standing before you.

You both inhale and exhale slowly, sequentially.

You both speak at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

“I should have been more careful.”

You both laugh. This moment felt so surreal to you, as if you were in sync with your thoughts and actions.

You clear your throat and place your beautiful dark brown locks behind your ear. Ben kneels down and lends a hand to lift you up from the floor. He picks up your items and hands them to you, nervously.

You smile.

There is an awkward silence for a moment. Ben knows exactly who you are, and he remembers you clearly from last night. He didn’t know if you were friends with Tamia and how much she told you about their relationship, but he didn’t care. He just loved having you in his presence at the current moment, even though he knew nothing about you, not even your name.

“Hi….I’m Ben….Ben Barnes.” He finally says, sticking out his hand.

You reach your hand out through all the books, folders, and scripts you had piled against your chest.

“I’m Y/N.” You say, almost tumbling over to the right.

“Whoooaaa there….let me help you.” Ben says, helping you balance as he takes all of your belongings and holds them in his hands, so gracefully as he stood confidently.

God he is so handsome. You say to yourself.

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N. Are you the new intern for the assistant director role?”

“Yes, I am.”

Ben smiles.

“Well, I had better be on my best behavior then.”

You look away.

How on earth would I be able to work so closely with this gorgeous man who I am SO attracted to? On top of that, his ex-girlfriend poured her heart out to me last night? Oh this is going to be REAL fun. You say to yourself.

Ben catches your sudden mood change and is a bit concerned.

“Look, Y/N, I know you were hanging out with my ex-girlfriend last night. I’m not sure how you know each other, but I promise not to inquire on anything that she may have shared with you.”

You look bewildered and didn’t know how to respond. The last thing that you wanted to do was get caught up in a couple’s messy break-up, especially at work.

“We actually just met last night. Her flight was canceled and she needed a place to stay, so I offered mine.”

Ben’s face lit up. He thought what you did was so generous and very pleased at your selfless actions.

“Wow, thank you. That was very kind of you.”

You smirk, your cheeks turning bright red.

“It’s no biggy, really. I was just helping out someone in need.”

“Well, whatever issues we had and whatever she told you, can I ask that we not let it get in the way of our work relationship?”

You look at him with more respect. It’s great that he wanted to clear the air immediately, otherwise things could get really awkward.

“Yes, absolutely. I am looking forward to working with you Mr. Barnes.”

“Please, call me Ben. Mr. makes me sound too old, like my dad.”

You both laugh.

“Deal.” You say.

“Well, for all of your troubles, let me at least assist you with storing your things. Follow me.”

You smile and walk along side of Ben. This whole situation was just surreal. You couldn’t wait to go home and call Jackie to tell her about your day.

____________________________________________

“Wait, so let me get this straight. You walk off your plane, bump into an actress from London who broke up with Ben Barnes, you offer her to stay at your studio apartment because she’s stranded and Ben shows up at your studio, then the next day you freakin’ bump into him AGAIN on set at your new job? Holy FUCKING SHIT!” Jackie screams.

“It’s pretty crazy, right?” You say to Jackie as you gobble down your Chinese food and study your script, while on the phone. Yeah, you were the queen of multi-tasking.

“Yes, hell yes!”

“Well, we are colleagues so there won’t be any funny business going on. Besides, he just had a break up and I am certainly not ready to take on that baggage.”

Jackie chuckles.

“What’s so funny, Jack?”

“You already took it on, hun.”

“That’s what I get for being too nice right?”

“You got that right chickie. Good things come to those who wait though.”

“Well, I’m not jumping ahead of anything. I was there for a person in need who happens to be the ex-girlfriend of Ben-“

“Your future husband!” Jackie interrupts.

“Stop it Jack! I can’t date a guy who my friend once dated, right?”

Jackie pauses.

“Who said this chick is your friend, its fair game honey!”

As you are speaking to Jackie, you receive a text message from Tamia that read:

“Dear, Y/N. I wanted to let you know that I made it home safely. I truly appreciate you offering your place to me, a complete stranger. I don’t have many friends, but I can honestly say that I’ve found a friend in you. I know that you will be richly blessed for your act of kindness. Please keep in touch! I hope to see you again someday. ~ Tamia.

“Hey Jack, yeah about that girlfriend code.”

“What about it?” Jackie says, pouring her morning coffee into a mug.

“I just received a text message from my new ‘friend’ Tamia, Ben’s ex.”

“WHAT!” Jackie yells out, nearly waking her neighbors as she exits her apartment.

“I’ll forward it to you, but you may need to sit down in your car to read it.”

“Arrgh......of all fucking days my mom needs help with the restaurant.”

Jackie sits in her BMW and reads the message. She laughs out loud.

“Jackie, what the hell?”

Jackie keeps laughing.

“What is so funny?”

“You are the only person on earth who meets a person in less than 24 hours and is already their best fucking friend. Only you, Y/N.”

“Ok, see! You said it, she IS my friend and therefore, I’d be in violation of the girlfriend code if I dated Ben.”

Jackie covers her mouth with widened eyes.

“Oh, wait, Y/N! I really didn’t mean “friend”, I mean it’s just comical that she’s saying that and you barely know her. So unless it’s a mutual understanding and is consensual, she ain’t no friend of yours girl.”

You laugh.

“Oh Jackie, you are too much. Besides, why are we even having this conversation? I just met the dude and I have no idea if he is even attracted to me in the same way. I’m not going there right now, there is too much at stake to even think about going down that path.”

“Girl, you are crazy. But I do understand. Suit yourself, but mark my words, he will fall in love with you. You’re the perfect catch my friend.”

“You’re very sweet to say that, but what makes you think that?”

“Because I know the kind of person you are and I’ve seen other men fall in love with you. You’re just oblivious to it.”

“Those guys don’t count, Jack.”

“Why not? Grade school does count!”

You both laugh.

“Alright my friend, I need to finish writing. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Ok girlie, laters.”

At this point, you’re grinning from ear to ear. You just couldn’t believe that all this happened. How in the world did you end up in Australia on set with a man that you saw on television just a few weeks prior? How could you be attracted to someone who you sort of be-friended and who you wanted to possibly build a friendship with? How would you even date this guy after you helped his ex-girlfriend in a time of need? Isn’t that a violation of the girlfriend code? It didn’t matter. You were going to get these wild ideas out of your mind for three reasons: 1) he is a celebrity who probably has no interest in you anyway; 2) He just got out of a relationship and you didn’t want to be a rebound off his ex-girlfriend; 3) you work together and would never date a colleague; and 4) you have never broken the girlfriend code and didn’t plan on doing it now.

Although every time you saw Ben, you felt a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you never felt before with anyone, but in your heart you just weren’t ready to share with it anyone just yet. It just wasn’t the right time for you. But you couldn’t help but remember the way he looked at you when you first opened the door to your studio apartment and saw him standing there looking so sad, bewildered and alone, but when your eyes met, it suddenly changed. When you saw him for the second time, that same feeling overcame you again, only this time, it felt more relaxed because it was just the two of you.

Before you could continue drifting off into dreamland, the script you were reading nearly covered your face and the food you were eating started falling on the floor.

You jump suddenly to a knock on the front door.

You’re in a daze from falling into a deep sleep and stumble to the door. You look through the peep hole and see Ben standing there, with his hands covered with books and documents.

What the hell is he doing here? You say to yourself.

You open the door.

Ben’s face lights up.

You feel a tingling sensation in your belly.

Arrrrgggh….

“Hey.” You both say in sync, before giggling.

You both smile.

“Is this a habit of yours? Dropping by your colleagues studio unannounced?” You say jokingly.

Ben giggles.

“I’m really sorry to bother you at this hour, but I somehow forgot to return some of the items that I held after I bumped into you earlier.”

“Oh, thank you.” You say, although you already had the important items needed for your first film direction tomorrow. “But you didn’t have to go through so much trouble to bring these all the way here.”

Ben smiles, but he also felt like a fool for coming over at such a late hour.

He just needed to see you.

“I actually didn’t go through any trouble at all. My apartment is just around the corner from yours.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh, I see….well, thank you for bringing my books and scrap paper.”

Ben chuckles and smiles nervously.

“No worries, I just wanted to make sure that you had everything you needed before going on set tomorrow.”

You both pause for a minute. You could smell that sweet scent that had you thinking about Ben all night long the night before.

You inhale and exhale slowly.

You come back to your senses and smile at Ben.

“Well, I guess I should get going now.” Ben says, but he really didn’t want to leave.

“Ok, thanks again for bringing my scraps and books.”

“It’s the least I could do.”

You don’t know what came over you, but you suddenly felt a sense of boldness. You didn’t want Ben to leave and wanted to stay in his presence.

“Do you wanna come in?” You blurt out.

Ben looks bewildered, yet happy.

“Sure, but I don’t want to keep you from studying.”

“I’m fine, I actually fell asleep, so I should probably stay up a little longer. Besides its only 7:00 pm.”

Ben smiles.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It took me almost a week to adjust to the time difference here. I really don’t know how people travel this long of a distance and go straight to work afterward. It’s insane.”

You laugh as you welcome Ben into your studio.

You somehow felt at ease and not so nervous about having Ben at your place.

“Can I get you anything Ben? Tea, coffee, beer?”

“I’ll have tea, thanks. Do you happen to have Chai tea?”

“I actually do! Coming right up.” You say, turning on the gas stove to make tea for the both of you.

Ben sits on your sofa and looks at the scrap-papered scripts you had written and revised. He began reading the first few lines and shook his head in amazement.

“Wow, your writing is quite impressive, Y/N.”

You grin, your cheeks turning bright red.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not even joking. You need to show these to Michael as soon as possible.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, do you know how long we’ve been struggling over this sea serpent scene? It’s been literally months. This is SO brilliant! I am so STOKED!”

You are shocked and very flattered that Ben was so impressed with your writing.

You sit down next to him with two tea mugs on a tray with some light snacks and desserts.

God she smells so good. Ben says to himself. His heart races as he inhales your scent.

The Third Sign

Ben opens a fortune cookie that you had from your take-out dinner earlier that evening. He pulls out the tiny strip of paper that read:

Love is right around the corner.

Ben’s cheeks are completely flushed at this point. He places the tiny strip of paper next to his tea cup and takes a sip of tea to clear his throat. You take a quick glance at the tiny sheet of paper also, almost in denial about what you just read.

Ben was becoming very nervous being around you, so he thought quickly changing the undiscussed topic would help to lighten the load.

“So what made you decide to get into the media/film/production business?” Ben asks, shoving a chocolate covered pastry into his mouth.

“I’ve been writing stories since as long as I can remember. It’s always been my passion. I studied media for my undergraduate degree, but my father had different dreams for me. So I put my dreams aside to work at his law firm and attend law school. I figured if I can’t be directly involved in the production of media and film, I can implement protections around it.”

“Well, parents will always have dreams for their children, but you should go with your heart and follow your own dreams.”

You wished it were that easy to follow your own dreams and aspirations, however, it wasn’t that easy. Your father already had a position lined up for you when you graduate next summer as an attorney. So your dreams would have to wait.

You and Ben spent hours chatting about your childhoods, your schooling, career paths and dreams. Ben found it quite fascinating that you were such a great writer, but scarified your dream for your father. It took a very selfless person to sacrifice their dreams. Aside from your unbelievably rare and regal beauty, he could tell that you were a very selfless person, which drew him closer to you and made getting to know you much more interesting.

“So who’s the lucky fella in your life who gets to read your writing?” Ben asks, almost afraid of your response.

“Well definitely not my father. I’d say my younger brother, but I wouldn’t call him lucky.”

Ben’s smiles. He was relieved to know that you were unattached.

You take a sip of your warm team, leaving a speck of whipped cream on your nose.

Ben chuckles.

“What?” you ask, confused.

Ben leans in toward you, his face just inches from yours.

Your hearts races as he moves in on you.

Oh shit, is he going to kiss me? Isn’t this too soon? Well, what the hell. You say to yourself.

You close your eyes and pucker your lips out.

Ben raises his eyebrows and smiles, wiping the whipped cream off of your perfectly shaped nose with his thumb. Ben bit his bottom lip, drinking in your beauty. His fingers began trickling back towards your jaw, while his thumb made its way to your red plumped lips, brushing over them gently.

You both inhale and exhale slowly…..again.

Ben studied your entire face in this moment, continuing to cup your jaw as his thumb brushed over your lips. He didn’t know what was coming over him. All he knew was that he wanted to kiss you, but he felt it was too soon.

He uncupped your beautiful tanned faced and dipped his nose into his tea.

You open your eyes and began giggling hysterically.

Your laugh is so contagious that Ben began laughing too.

He is such a silly guy. You loved that he dipped his nose in the tea to lighten a serious moment that you both were obviously confused about. This showed that he could laugh at himself and didn’t mind others enjoying a laugh on him. You wipe the whipped cream from his nose, and you both began laughing hysterically again for another minute or two.

It felt good to be silly with Ben, even though you knew nothing about him, it felt as though you knew him for years.

It was a quarter past 11 pm and you didn’t realize the time. It felt as though the night had just begun. Ben spent over four hours in your studio, but you didn’t want him to leave. It felt so comforting talking to Ben. All the fears and nervousness that you had about him being famous went out the window. He was just a regular guy who liked and appreciated regular things.

“Well, I should probably get back to my apartment since we have to be on set by dawn. I’d love to continue our conversation tomorrow, maybe over an early dinner if you’re free?”

Ben’s cheeks were on fire. He didn’t want to be too forward, but he just couldn’t go an evening without seeing or speaking with you.

You smile as your cheeks became flushed with red as well.

“I’d love to.” You say, placing your long beautiful locks behind your ear.

“Ok, awesome. Let’s meet back here and we can go somewhere fun. Queensland is known for its beautiful attractions. I think you’ll appreciate the place that I have in mind for tomorrow.”

Your cheeks are now on fire at this point. Sounds like Ben is asking you out on a date.

Ben takes the fortune cookie strip and places it his pocket. He wanted to keep it as he felt something unusual developing between the two of you. He makes his way to the front door and turns around to face you. You look up at him, he was so tall and your head barely touched his shoulder.

“I had a really nice evening, Y/N.”

“Me too. Thanks for bringing back my books and scrap-papers.”

Ben chuckles.

“No problem. Didn’t want you to get fired on your first day of work.”

You smile.

“Very funny.” You say, giving Ben a flirty smile.

“I can give you a lift to work in the morning if needed, I mean, we do live in the same complex.”

“Sure thing, beats taking the train while carrying all of my crap.”

“Sounds like a plan. Good night, Y/N. See you in the morning.”

“Good night, Ben.”

You close the door to your apartment, your body sliding down to the floor as your legs suddenly became weak.

#ben barnes #binbons #the signs #fanfic #romance #voyage of the dawn treader

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the-vampire-squid-from-hell · 5 years

Text

So I’ve finally got around to writing something for When the Night Comes! (Btw you guys should all go and play it. Chapter 1 is out now and it’s great so go play)

Caspian belongs to me. August belongs to @whenthenightcomesgame

(Also trigger warning for implied death. It’s not stated but just so you all know.)

Caspian was born to be by the water.

His earliest memories are of him and his sister Miranda walking around on the beaches, looking for pretty seashells. They would collect the prettiest ones for their mom, who would proudly wear them around the brothel as earrings and necklaces and bracelets. Caspian was made to be in the water. He doesn't remember when he learned to swim. He it's as natural to him as walking. Summers were spent out of the way, playing in the beach and in the water. His mother would tell him and his sister that they had mermaid blood in them. That their great grandfather had been a merman who had fallen in love with a human woman. That the reason their father was away so much was because he was drawn to the sea like they were. Miranda would roll her eyes, but Caspian hung onto every word. He loved to hear stories about the father he has never met. And Caspian knows the truth. There are mermaids in the waters. He's seen them, talked to them, even played with them. (He hasn't seen him mother's worried looks as she watches him swim. He's missed the fear in her eyes as she frets about losing another person she loves to the sea. The sea is beautiful but unforgiving and she knows this better then anyone) Caspian was made to be on the water. He's still young when he starts helping some of the fishermen on their boats. It's hard work and he's too young to really help but he can run errands on the boat and they don't need to pay him much so they let him on. He's a gangly kid still. All long limbs and speed. But he loves being on the water. It satisfies a restless energy in him. That's why, when he's picked to go through the tests to become a hunter, he doesn't want to go. Not that Miranda seems to care. She just continues to pack his bag while he continues to unpack it, their mother watching in the doorway. "I'm not going." "You are." "I don't want to" "It's an honor." "I don't care." "Look." The word was said with such anger that Caspian had to pause, the pants in his hands falling back into the suitcase, "you're going and that's final. Mom and I aren't going to watch you waste your life when you can do better." "But I like being out on the water. I'm good at this." "You'll be good at this also, minnow." His mother says, coming over to ruffle his hair. "It's all that mermaid blood in you. But you'll be good at this." She pinches his nose and kisses his forehead, distracting him long enough for Miranda to finish packing. She closes the suitcase, grabs Caspian's hand and drags him out of the room. He can hear his mom laughing and wishing him luck as he's dragged down the hall. It's times like these he hates that Miranda is so much older then him. He's still too small and skinny to do anything as she drags him through the brothel, now empty due to it being noon, and into the street. He tells and screams and protests but she doesn't listen and no one cares about the two of them as they make their way through the streets to where the rest of the chosen kids are. They stop at the middle of the city, where there's a small group of other kids that Caspian doesn't recognize. "Ok Randy. This was fun time to go." He says as some carriages pull up. The kids are being counted, their names being checked off as they climb into a carriage. "You're going Cas." "But I don't want to." He whines again. She just rolls her eyes and puts the bag down in front of him. "Let's get this straight." She said, pulling him close. She had a dangerous aura around her. "You're going. And you'll either come back a Hunter or you won't come back at all, got it?" Caspian stared at her before nodding slowly. She smiled, her dangerous aura leaving. She kissed his forehead. "Good luck Cas. Remember to write."

Caspian was born to be by the water, but being a hunter isn’t so bad.

Part of him wanted to be bitter. He didn’t want to be good at being a hunter. He wanted an excuse to go home, to prove his sister and mother wrong.

The problem is that he’s good at this. It’s not that everything comes easy, because it doesn’t. The school work is challenging and the training wears him out but it’s so deeply satisfying.

And he makes friends, which shocks him. He wasn't really sure how he did that. When he thinks back, he didn’t really have many friends back in the city. He had the mermaids, but no actual human friends really. But here no one seems to care that he’s the son of a prostitute. They’re all just suffering through training together.

But somehow he’s managed to actually get a group of friends who like to be around him. And he can’t complain about that too much. Even if Raffaele does like to steal his jacket, and Cordelia likes to eat his french fries, and Gabby steal his hair ties. They’re his little group and he loves them.

Yeah, being a hunter isn’t that bad.

Caspian was born to be on the water, but not in the way he thought.

He’s assigned to his home city when he’s 22. He’s not high ranking, but high enough to get some good jobs. And he’s only here because he’s comfortable on a boat and there’s a nasty siren bothering people. So he’s here to kill it.

The job goes well enough. Taking a life is never easy, even if it’s the life a murderous siren. It puts a damper on his whole visit.

But as his feet hit the wooden dock, he can’t help but smile. Miranda was waiting for him at the edge. She looks tired, but the smile she gives him as he walks up to her is genuine.

“You look tired.” He says, giving her an easy smile. She laughs.

“You got tall.”

“I did.”

She laughed again and took his arm. “Come, tell me about all of your adventures Hunter Reed.” she said with a smile. Caspian was made to be on the water, but the ocean no longer calls to him.

He had been offered a position in a nice port city, with plenty of things for him to do. But even the thought of seeing his precious ocean has nothing on what he has now.

He’s happy, happy in a way he thought he’d never be. His friend group has expanded to include a rather colorful cast of characters and he has a wonderful partner.

Not that’s he’s been completely unaffected. He’s sitting now braiding August’s hair, softly singing to himself as he does so.

“What were you singing?” August asks as Caspian finishes.

“Just an old song I know.” He kissed their head. “A sea shanty. I heard it a lot when I was out on the water.”

August hummed instead of actually answering. They moved so that they were laying comfortable again him.

They were both quiet for a while. Caspian thought August might have fallen asleep until he heard them say something.

“What?”

“I asked if you missed it. The ocean.”

Caspian thought for a moment. “No, not really.” When all he got was a raised eyebrow he continued. “I spent a lot of time by the water when I was little. I resented being sent away when I was younger. But I like being a Hunter. Besides, if I didn't become a hunter I never would have met you.”

August sighs, but the fond smile on their face betrays them. “You're a sap.”

Caspian laughed softly and kissed them. “Yes, but I'm your sap.”

#I'm actually really happy with this?#I like this a lot #wtnc #the hunter (wtnc)#OC: Caspian Reed #august willenheim #chandi things #chandi's writing

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padfootagain · 7 years

Text

Lioness

Part 1 : Sword Fighting

This was supposed to be just an imagine but lots of new ideas came to me as I wrote it down. So new series!

Gif’s not mine

You knew Caspian was looking at you from afar. He had been doing more and more so these past few months. And even if he was trying to hide when he stared intensely at you, he was never particularly discreet. Often one of his advisers or guards would come out of the blue and make him jump, revealing his presence to you. Or sometimes he would simply froze as he saw you coming his way, as if he was transfixed, and it would always take him some time to finally resume his walk, acknowledging your presence with a shy smile, a nod and flushed cheeks.

But judging by the way he never dared to talk to you alone, you guessed that he was not very good at seeing that you were doing just the same whenever he was around.

So when you saw him training in the gardens with one of his men, sweaty with the duel, you merely sat down on a bench, and watched him fight from afar. You watched him as he swung his sword, blocking every attack of his opponent. You watched him as he sped up the pace until the soldier fell backwards on the ground, leaving him defenceless.

You heard his laugh ring through the air, shuttering upon the bushes and the roses all around you, as he helped the soldier up again.

But you froze when the soldier leaned towards the young King, and Caspian turned towards you.

You couldn't help but slightly gasp. Although, when it came to this, you were more daring than Caspian.

So instead of fleeing back to the castle, you merely smiled at him.

He smiled back at you, before listening to the soldier again. And suddenly, he was shaking frantically his head, looking terrified.

When he turned again towards you, he seemed hesitant.

You saw the man behind him slightly push him forward, and...

...Caspian started to walk towards you.

You kept your composure, your smile widening as he advanced slowly towards you. You reckoned it was about to be the first time he would talk to you in private, out of a feast or a group of friends.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/N" he breathed as he finally stood before you.

"Good afternoon, Sire."

"It's a lovely day, isn't it?"

You couldn't hide your amusement at the sight of him. Here he was, King of Narnia, he had led men into fierce battles, and travelled all around his Kingdom, he was about to travel across the sea, judging by the rumours about this boat he was building...

..And he was all shy and hesitant when it came to talk to a woman?

"It's a lovely day indeed," you nodded.

He suddenly noticed the book that rested on your knees.

"What are you reading?"

You read the title out loud.

"Of Narnia and Magic : between truth and legends."

"It's a good one," he nodded.

"Have you read it?"

He nodded again.

"A long time ago. My professor made me read it. I liked it very much."

You both exchanged a smile, but he didn't seem willing to ask you another question, so you took the matter of the conversation into your own hands.

"You seem to be very skilled with a blade, Your Highness."

He shook his head, wincing.

"Please... Caspian will do just fine."

You stared intensely at him.

"You seem to be very skilled with a blade, Caspian," you repeated, a bright grin on your face.

"Thank you," he smiled. "I could teach you a thing or two, if you'd like."

"What makes you think that you would have anything to teach me?" you replied, raising an amused eyebrow.

"You know how to fight?" he asked, surprised.

"My father taught me."

He grinned.

"I guess I should be careful not to make you angry, then."

"I would not advise it."

You both laughed. But he seemed suddenly nervous again.

"I..." he stuttered. "There is a party set for the Anniversary of the Coronation next week."

"I know, and I'm sure it will be spectacular," you nodded.

"I... I was wondering..." he breathed, staring intensely into your eyes. "Would you... would you attend the party... with me?"

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he blushed fiercely, looking down at his boots.

"Unless... you would prefer to go with someone else," he added softly.

"I don't reckon I could say no to my King," you joked.

But when he looked up at you again, he was deadly serious.

"It is not a matter you should think about as a command. It will never be. You are the only judge in this matter. Me being a King has nothing to do with my demand, and should not stop you from refusing if it is what you wish to do."

You smiled... and when an idea suddenly popped up into your mind, a mischievous glint suddenly shined in your eyes.

"What if we fought for that?" you proposed, nodding towards his sword.

He frowned.

"You mean? Sword fighting?"

You nodded.

"If you win, I'll go to the ball with you."

"And if I lose?"

"Then you'll have to answer a question of mine."

"Which is?"

"That's a surprise."

He laughed, apparently amused.

"Alright," he nodded, still smiling. "Let's do it."

You stood up, leaving the book on the bench, and strode towards the spot where Caspian had been training.

You picked up the heavy sword from the ground, and you took off your shoes. He raised an eyebrow.

"These shoes are very uncomfortable," you answered to his surprised expression.

You smiled at the feeling of the soft grass tickling your feet, looking at your toes for a few seconds, before looking up at Caspian again.

He was staring at you with a dreamy smile on his lips.

"So? Do we fight then?" you asked.

He laughed.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked you. "I wouldn't like you to hurt yourself."

"My father has always told me never to underestimate my opponent," you replied.

"A wise man indeed."

"He is."

You got into position, raising your sword before you, and Caspian did the same, shrugging.

He gave your sword one or two hits, but you could feel that he was scared to use all his strength with you. He was scared to hurt you.

The poor man...

You used his hesitation to swung your sword in the air, and you almost disarmed him.

He smiled.

"I'm sorry, my Lady," he told you as you both walked in circle. "It looks like I have underestimated you."

"It looks like you have, indeed."

And the next second you were both fiercely battling, hitting and blocking, and walking back and forth, and twirling, as if you were dancing a wild dance.

But you were the one who managed to place your blade upon his neck.

He grinned.

"I reckon that I have found even better swordsman than me," he breathed.

You smiled, before lowering slowly your weapon.

"Looks like you have," you teased.

You were a bit afraid of going too far, after all, he was your King.

But his smile only widened.

"So... what is this question of yours?" he asked you.

You bit down on your lower lip, but asked your question anyway.

"Why do you want me to come with you to the ball?" you asked. "Why are you always so shy around me?"

He looked down at the ground, his smile fading.

"That makes two questions, not one."

"I think they both have the same answer, though."

"If you already know the answer, why ask the questions?"

"Maybe I want to be sure that I'm not wrong about this answer."

He cleared his throat, uncomfortably shifting his weight from one leg to the other, still not daring to look at you.

"I... I like your company," he said, his low voice just loud enough for you to catch his words. "I like spending time with you. But you make me nervous."

"Why do I make you nervous?"

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Because you are wild, and reckless. You are not afraid to say what you think. And still... still you are gentle and kind. You are fierce and untameable... Much like a lioness."

You saw his cheeks flush after so many confessions. He looked up at you, but you were smiling, blushing slightly as well.

"So... I've lost," Caspian breathed. "Does that mean that you're not going to come with me to the ball?"

Your smile turned into a grin.

"I would love to accompany you to the ball, Caspian."

He grinned as well.

"Wonderful!" he breathed, barely able to believe that you had said yes.

You handed him your sword, and his fingers brushed yours as he took the weapon away from you, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I am sorry, I have to take my book back to the library," you said softly.

He nodded.

"Goodbye, Caspian."

"Goodbye, my Lady."

You laughed, walking towards the bench, and you turned towards him again when you picked up your book.

He was picking up the weapons that were splayed on the grass. You softly called his name.

"Caspian?"

He quickly turned towards you, silently encouraging you to continue.

You smiled.

"Y/N will do just fine."

He grinned, and you walked away, not turning back to look at him again.

But you could feel his stare on you without turning around anyway...

Indeed, he watched as you were walking down the alley, disappearing behind the trees and bushes covered with flowers in blossom, until you were out of sight.

He closed his eyes, smiling as he breathed deeply the smell of flowers carried by the wind.

The air smelled like you.

And as he put back his sword in its sheath, he thought that he had never known a so sweet defeat as the one he had faced today.

#caspian #caspian x #caspian imagine #caspian fanfic #caspian fic #fanfic #writing

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highqueen · 7 years

Text

Love Knows No Bounds (pt. 4) [Edmund Pevensie]

Summary: The reader and Edmund have been friends for most of their time together in Narnia. They realize their true feelings for each other at the worst moment; just when they both leave for Earth. It doesn’t help that they live literally half a world apart.

Word Count: 1,855

Note: I am so sorry for the wait! This is the fourth part of Love Knows No Bounds, a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @peterpevensje. Enjoy!

Warnings: Slavery/slave trading, some fighting.

Previously: The same smile was worn on your face and it was at that moment Edmund realized that he didn’t think your smile was the most beautiful thing he had even seen.

He knew that your smile was the most beautiful thing he had even seen.

Edmund was here. Here! Standing right in front of you, sopping wet clothes clinging to his frame, showing you that he had grown physically in the year on Earth.

It was then that you realized you were staring.

Edmund raised an eyebrow at you, smirking. You laughed quietly to yourself, knowing that despite Edmund’s seemingly unfazed expression, he was shocked and excited to see you there.

You stepped forwards, about to hug him, when Caspian pushed past you. Three fluffy towels were in his arms.

Oh. Right.

It was breezy at sea, so Edmund, Lucy, and his whining companion probably felt cold.

And you knew just the thing to warm them up.

Rushing below deck, you grabbed three cups and filled them with a warm, spiced Narnian drink.

When you had returned to Narnia, Caspian had given you this drink during a celebration. One sip of it brought back many memories all at once, somehow making you feel older, like the age you were when you left Narnia.

When you left Narnia…

Your face fell, remembering the pain you felt as you knew it was time for you to leave.

The first few days on Earth were terrible. You refused to eat and stayed in your room for days, weeping over the loss of Edmund and the friends you made in Narnia.

You didn’t want to feel that way again.

A plan started forming in your head, a plan that wouldn’t let you get hurt. You would not get close to Edmund. That way, when you left again, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Determined, a cold mask fell over your features.

You picked the cups up and brought them up to the deck.

“Here,” you said, all but shoving the cup into Edmund’s hand. You ignored the concerned look on his face and continued to give a cup to Lucy and her cousin—his name was Eustace.

Edmund was confused and worried. Why were you so cold to him? He could tell the difference in the way you shoved the warm spiced drink in his hands compared to the gentleness as you gave a cup to Lucy.

Had he done something wrong?

Wracking his mind, he thought of the last days you had together in Narnia. He couldn’t remember angering you then; he only remembered sadness… and pain.

And how when he went back to Narnia, he struggled so hard to fill the void in his heart that had opened when he thought he would never see you again.

Thoughts started swirling through Edmund’s mind

The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that he hadn’t done anything wrong. The problem was more on your side—you weren’t allowing yourself to be friendly with him, to love him.

As he brought the spiced drink up to his lips, determination shone in his eyes.

He would make you fall in love with him again.

Everything was in chaos.

You slashed and parried with a sword Caspian had given you, fighting one slave trader before turning to the next.

Edmund and Caspian were fighting together not too far from you, and Lucy was doing well with Reepicheep beyond the two men.

Pushing another slave trader back, you noticed one of them sneaking up behind Edmund. Despite not wanting to fall in love with Edmund again, you still worried about him, and would protect him whenever you could.

“Edmund! Behind you!” you shouted.

Relieved, you watched as he dodged the dagger heading his way and fought off the trader.

You allowed yourself a few seconds longer to make sure Edmund was okay–

But those few seconds were a mistake.

A cold blade pressed against your throat, halting all your movements.

“Drop your weapon,” the trader growled.

Slowly, your fingers let go of the hilt of your sword. It clattered to the ground with a clang.

The trader continued to talk into your ear, pressing the blade of the knife even closer into your neck. It didn’t break skin, but one wrong move and you would have a bloody neck. “Don’t try anything funny, dear, or I’ll have to make sure you can’t move at all. Now I want you to scream loudly, on my count, let’s make sure your boyfriend over there can hear you, all right?”

The knife moved away enough to allow you a small nod.

“Three, two, one… scream!”

Your mouth opened, and a loud scream ripped from your throat

It wasn’t just a scream though, it was a warning.

“Edmund, RUN!

Edmund turned at your scream, eyes widening in panic as he took in the sight of you with a blade pressed to your throat.

“RUN!” you shouted again, “G–mph!”

A rough hand pressed down hard against your mouth, muffling your screams.

The knife was placed back against your throat.

Edmund stopped fighting and Caspian did too, causing Lucy and Reepicheep to stop as well. They were all staring at you, worry and fear and anger flashing across their faces.

A loud squeal had everyone turning towards the door.

Eustace was there, in a similar position as yourself, knife pressed to his throat.

“Drop your weapons,” the slave trader behind you said. “Drop them,” he repeated, “or I slit her throat.”

The tip of knife pressed down harder, and you gasped, tilting your head back to try and escape the blade.

“You jerk!” Edmund shouted, taking a step forwards. “Let her go!”

He continued to shout as the slave traders moved to tie everyone up. Even Reepicheep was captured, slung over trader’s shoulder with his small paws tied.

The trader pulled you towards Lucy and Eustace and tied your hands behind your back.

Your eyes swept across the area, looking for Edmund, only to see that he and Caspian were far away from you.

Then the traders started to move, pulling you further away from Edmund, and it was then that you started to yell.

“Edmund! No, Edmund!”

Edmund twisted and turned against his captor’s grip, shouting, “Stop! Don’t take her away from me! Let me go! ” He looked at you, eyes desperate and furious.

Lucy and Eustace joined in on the shouting, each of you attempting to get away from the captors.

As the slave traders shoved you into the horse-drawn cart, you looked back, tears streaming down your face. Through your blurry vision, you could see Edmund’s back as he was forced away from you.

The cart started to move, and then he was gone.

Bang!

“Ed!” Caspian shouted, pulling Edmund away from the iron bars covering the small window. “Hurting yourself won’t help.”

“There’s no use trying. There’s no way out.” An old man stepped out from the shadows of the walls and started explaining the mist, and the sacrifices.

Though Edmund listened, he said nothing, only curling his hands into tight fists. He ignored the pain that came from his bruised and scratched knuckles and continued to glare down at the town square. A cart was in the middle of the square, full of people. From his prison cell, Edmund could make out your figure bound with rope.

His eyes blazed with anger as two slave traders pulled you to the platform.

He would have continued to watch, wishing that you could run away, but two guards pulled open the doors of the prison cell.

“Move,” one of the growled, pushing Edmund into line behind Caspian and the missing Narnian lord in their cell.

The three of them were led out of the cell and into the prison building.

A door was opened, and Edmund stumbled down a flight of steps, before being pushed out the door and forced to walk down another flight.

The sun was hot and bright. Edmund squinted as he stepped outside but his eyes widened when he realized that he was walking along the outside of the square.

The square where you, Lucy, and Eustace were.

Listening closely, he couldn’t help but smile despite the situation he was in. Nobody wanted to buy Eustace and that made him snicker just a bit, exchanging amused glances with Caspian.

Nobody wanted to buy Eustace until a familiar voice shouted, “We’ll take him off your hands!”

Edmund’s head snapped towards the crowd near the slave traders.

“For Narnia, and for Aslan!”

As the many cries of the Dawn Treader crew filled the town square, Edmund and Caspian took advantage of their captors’ confusion.

Grinning, Edmund elbowed a jailer in the stomach, then kicked him in the knees to knock him over. “Oops,” he said, “my hand slipped.”

He bent down and looked for keys in the unconscious man’s pockets. Pulling out a large ring with dozens of keys on it, Edmund groaned. “Reep! A little help here?”

Wind whistled by his ear and Edmund ducked, narrowly avoiding the fist of another jailer. He turned to fight the man but the man suddenly fell over with a groan, revealing a brown mouse standing at his feet.

Reepicheep sheathed his sword and looked at Edmund. “What can I help you with?”

Edmund tossed Reepicheep the keys. “Help me unlock these,” he ordered, shaking the iron cuffs on his wrists.

After trying many keys while avoiding being killed, Edmund finally got out of his cuffs. Once they were off, he tossed the key ring to Caspian, shouting out which key was the right one before joining the chaos.

He saw you in another area of the courtyard, holding your own against men much larger than you.

Relief flooded him as you seemed unharmed.

Hitting the person he was fighting over the head, Edmund started to make his way towards you.

The path was cleared faster as more of the townspeople came out of their homes to fight, finally able to get rid of the slave traders who had been taking their family members away.

Soon enough, all the slave traders were dead, knocked out, or tied up.

He wasn’t ready to rest, though.

He searched the crowd of reuniting families, sidestepping a young girl running to hug her father.

Edmund, too, was looking to be reunited.

With family, and with someone he loved.

He caught sight of you next to Lucy, helping her heal those injured from fighting.

Once he got close enough, Edmund cleared his throat. You and Lucy turned to look at him, smiles growing on all of your faces.

“Edmund!” Lucy exclaimed, though she did not leave the injured man’s side.

You, on the other hand, ran to close the distance between you and Edmund, flinging yourself at him. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, his nose nuzzling your neck.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered.

You slowly pulled away from Edmund and laced your fingers together behind his neck. Your arms rested on his shoulders, and a bit of his hair tickled your thumbs. “You won’t be able to get rid of me so easily, Ed.”

This incident—where you almost lost him, and he almost lost you—made you realize that you couldn’t keep pushing Edmund away.

You realized that you loved him, and had never stopped loving him.

Tag List: @edmundlover @mischeif-managed1987 @wantingtobekorra @apollogirl13 @stargurl16 @pevensiedmundd Please send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the list!

#narnia #narnia writing #my writing #love knows no bounds #edmund writing #edmund #edmund pevensie #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie x reader

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little-narnian-notes · 7 years

Text

First Light

Request: Could I have a Caspian x Reader, where they have been friends since children and after the dawn treader the reader leaves and Caspian regrets not telling her how he feels. She comes back to visit Narnia and meets Caspian again and he tells her how he feels and she feels the same and they kiss, can you make the scene like the Rain Scene in The Notebook? Thank you!! (Maybe she could be a princess of Archenland).

This is also very late and I’m super sorry :/ This summer has been way busier then I expected and so I’ve not gotten much time to write lengthy oneshots for requests I’ve gotten.

I’ve also never seen The Notebook, so? I’m not sure what the Rain Scene is, so I hope the kissing scene is just as romantic as you wanted it to be.

—

The first weeks aboard the Dawn Treader were nothing like what King Caspian had expected. Of course he knew how to navigate and run a ship - everybody royal did. What made this so difficult was that everybody was in everybody else’s way. All day, every day, and even during the night. Really, the one creature comfort that Caspian had was the fact that as King, and ship captain, he had his own private quarters.

Caspian was a social person, and he liked being around others. But he wasn’t used to being on a ship and not being able to move around as much as he liked. Space was limited, food and water were limited, and every day the ship either seemed to be of an alright size or too damn small, depending on his mood.

He couldn’t complain, though. If there wasn’t so much camaraderie with his crew, Caspian wasn’t sure what he would have done. Searching for his father’s lost friends would have been excruciating if he and his crew didn’t share a tight bond.

“And have you find yourself a wife in those three years?” Lucy asked him playfully. She and Edmund - and their dreadful cousin Eustace, who Caspian was determined to not think about - were dry and aboard the Dawn Treader. All were dried off and in clean, Narnian clothes.

Caspian smiled, quick and soft and tightly. “None who have compared with your sister.”

The talk evolved into lost lords and updates about Narnia, but Caspian’s mind was still lost on why he hadn’t found a wife. It was true that no woman he’d met thus far could ever compare to Queen Susan the Gentle. It was also true that he’d met a few worthy competitors, but ultimately he and whatever lady of the week he’d met weren’t right for each other. For one reason or another.

Caspian had had feelings for Susan. He couldn’t deny that, but the truth was also that she was someone he could have fallen very much in love with, and he’d never been in love with her when she and her three siblings had been here four years ago. Caspian had played vaguely with the idea of what could happen if she’d stayed. But, no. Susan was from another time, a better time. He wasn’t sure if she’d have wanted to stay with a boy-king.

Besides, there was Y/N to think about.

“Cas! You’re really going? On the Dawn Treader?” Y/N asked. She sounded breathless even though she’d not exercised at all today.

Caspian looked up at her. He and Y/N had been friends since . . . well, he couldn’t remember how long. To him, it was just an accepted fact that they’d always been in each other’s lives, and best friends. “Why wouldn’t I be going?” Caspian was confused and unsure and felt more then a little bit off-kilter. “I said in my coronation I’d go, once Narnia was at peace.”

Y/N quirked her dark red lips. They looked like they’d been neatly stained with cherry juice. “I don’t know. I just supposed you’d stay here a bit longer. I’m going back to my home soon.”

She lived in Archenland. When Caspian’s uncle Miraz had been alive, he had planned to betroth the two of them. Before Prunaprismia had given birth to a son, Caspian had always assumed that when he was older, he’d likely marry someone like Y/N. Children didn’t much understand the concept of marriage, though. He’d always thought they’d just be friends who lived together and ruled together.

Prunaprismia had given birth to a son, though, and then the revolution in Narnia happened. The reign of Miraz came to an end, and Caspian was crowned king. Y/N hadn’t been in Narnia; she’d been busy in Archenland. A year after his coronation (which she’d attended heavily guarded), Caspian started to realize that he’d suddenly and awkwardly fallen in love with her. It made sense. He’d always felt like he was an odd duck for never really being attracted to women. Even his attraction to Queen Susan had been shallow, in retrospect.

But Y/N and himself? It just made sense. She was the one who held his heart and really knew him. Y/N with her tanned skin and soft hair, a voice that made him implode inside like a meteor had crashed into his body system.

Caspian faced off against sea serpents, slave traders, invisible jumping small men, and the green mist with Edmund and Lucy by his side, and Eustace in the air. It was still hard to believe he’d actually been turned into a dragon. One by one, the lost lords of Telmar were found, and their swords recovered. It was difficult to figure out exactly what to do with them after each misadventure, but after restocking the ship’s provisions and supplies, some of the lords came along. Some of the other lords decided to stay in whatever town Caspian found them in, saying that they could wait for him to double-back.

They said it made sense logistically to accompany him back to Narnia, not to the end of the world and then back home. Caspian was loathe to do that, but they had a point.

So he kept pushing on, going further and further into uncharted territories.

You were nervous. You were worried for Caspian. Once the Kings and Queens of Old returned to Narnia, you knew you wouldn’t be seeing a lot of your childhood friend. There was a lot for him to sort through and figure out.

As a result, the two of you were left to send letters to each other, though that had grown infrequent. The letters you received were long and detailed, but few and far between. Caspian had grown up, and had had to shoulder a lot of new responsibilities very quickly.

The same could be said for you too, honestly.

“You don’t suppose he’s just - off finding new adventures and other people?” you asked Lasareen. Las was your lady-in-waiting, and the two of you were sewing a silk dress for you.

She just laughed, threw a braid of her own dark hair over her one exposed shoulder. “Perhaps, Y/N. But surely that’s expected. Caspian will encounter new people and find new lands. I imagine he might even find some new territory to add to Narnia’s.”

That wasn’t what you meant. What if Caspian had time while ashore to find some woman to fall in love with? That was the last thing you wanted. You’d been in love with him since you turned thirteen, and were convinced no other man would do.

“Maybe.” Your tone was a little bit more short and frosty; Las picked up on it. The atmosphere in your spacious room changed slightly. Neither of you commented on it. That had been happened a lot lately, you picking fights where you didn’t to do so.

Lasareen shifted. “He’ll come back. He doesn’t really have much time to do anything besides fulfill his coronation oath.”

You shrugged. “I suppose so.” Maybe Las was right. Caspian wouldn’t have time to talk to many people besides his crew . . . right?

The conversation soon changed to new fabrics you both wanted to buy at the next market, but your mind stayed fixed on your long-time friend. If he wasn’t going to be falling in love, then what exactly was he doing? Your heart seized up for a minute. There was always the possibility he’d die, but it wasn’t something you liked to think about.

All you could do was wait, and wait, and wait for him. Endlessly.

When they reached the shores of Aslan’s Country, the regret slammed through Caspian. He’d never really told Y/N how he felt. He’d spent his whole life covering up his feelings, thinking they were obvious.

But how obvious could they have been when she’d never even hinted she felt the same way?

Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace walked through parted waters, back to their Other Country, and Reepicheep sailed beyond the water to see what Aslan kept there. Caspian felt their absence already and keenly in his heart. Like his heart was scarring and wounded. He had no way to fix that, and wasn’t sure what to do.

He tried not to cry and succeeded.

Caspian winced, as he rowed back to the Dawn Treader. Things felt oddly colder now. He had fulfilled his oath. The lost lords were found. And Narnia had just lost four Friends. So much sacrifice in just a few hours, in a way, for him to succeed.

If it was too late to tell Y/N how he felt, when they returned to Narnia, Caspian knew part of him would regret ever leaving. Seven months was a long time to leave a princess, especially one he’d once been betrothed too. She could have easily found another betrothed and married him by now.

The voyage back to Narnia was much less eventful. Caspian wondered how he’d manage. He’d never see Lucy and Edmund again, not in this lifetime. Maybe that meant life would be more peaceful . . . on the other hand, Eustace would still be able to come back. Perhaps that meant Aslan had future plans for the two of them?

Caspian wanted to focus on that, but the pain of losing his friends - and the potential loss of Y/N - kept distracting him. He didn’t want to focus on anything sometimes, and then those were the only topics he could think about.

You had arrived in Narnia a few days ago when you heard the bells. Golden banners were being raised to fly - that meant someone was arriving in Narnia from a trip. Your heart leapt a bit. Maybe it was Caspian?

“Your highness?” Lasareen looked at you. “We should go see who’s come. I wonder if it isn’t King Caspian and his crew.” For once she was thinking the same as you.

“We could give him - them - a welcome surprise,” you said, breathless. After setting down your tea and picked at scone, the two of your hurried down out of the tea room and across a few rooms.

People were shouting and waving, cheering even, and the two of you exchanged a look. Adrenaline shot through your body. You felt light-headed. He was back; he was really back. The people wouldn’t look this overjoyed for just anybody.

That was about when you saw Caspian, walking back towards Cair Paravel, his crew behind him.

“Princess Y/N,” Caspian said, startled. He’d seen her standing near the entrance to the throne room, and wondered briefly at first if it was a mirage. How could she be here? Was it possible in any capacity - but no. Y/N wouldn’t have been able to leave Archenland purely just to see him. “It’s been too long,” he managed to say.

She laughed, and it twisted a dagger through his heart. How long had been since he’d heard that? “Almost four years, King Caspian,” Y/N replied.

Her hair was braided and twisted elaborately to resemble a flower; decorative and sparkly things shone in her hair. She was more beautiful then Caspian remembered. It made him embarrassed to smell like the sea and leather and his own sweat. “Give me a few moments to change and bathe, Princess,” he finally said. “Perhaps after we could talk more over dinner.”

Caspian didn’t want to think about his royal duties just then. All he wanted was to see his old friend again.

You looked at Caspian, chancing your glances for when you were relatively positive he was looking somewhere else. The two of you had retreated to a balcony near the kitchen. There was to be a feast in two days, to celebrate the return of old lords. For now, a few of the cooks had given you both warm chicken, light soup, some bread with cheese and spiced wine. The air in Narnia seemed sweeter, lighter; you could almost taste it every time a breeze came by.

The moon was out in full and the night sky had been lit up with galaxies of stars.

“Tell me about your trip,” you invited him. Most of the food was gone by now; you were both sharing the last of the bread and cheese. There was half a pitcher left of wine. “I almost can’t believe you met King Edmund and Queen Lucy again.”

You believed in Tash, but sometimes, you felt very drawn to this God named Aslan. Could someone really pull kings and queens from the past and put them into the present? It seemed impossible.

Caspian winced and smiled. “Yes, they were there. We fought against enchantments and a sea serpent. It was difficult, a lot of the journey. We almost fell captive to slave traders in the beginning.”

“Almost?” Your eyebrows raised daintily. That was uncharacteristic. Ghost-fear swept through your body. Just now you were realizing how many times you’d come close to losing him and never knew it.

“Well, we did. For a few hours.” Caspian looked uncomfortable. It couldn’t be easy admitting that, you supposed, having to say you went from royalty to nothing in a matter of mere hours.

Still, though. “But what happened? You fought your way out?” There was usually hope in bleak situations. Caspian had come out alive, so they couldn’t have done much damage.

He smiled lightly at you. “My crew came to my aid. Not all went ashore there.” Caspian looked out over the balcony. Narnia was home, wasn’t it? Or could you find home in another person as well? Maybe it was a combination of both. Your country was the setting, but the person who held your heart was truly home. “Princess Y/N,” he finally said. “I would tell you more, but truth be told, I am weary. For now, I’ll say I realized . . . many things while away.”

“What things would those be?” You asked curiously. The tone had shifted. No longer were you both playful, laid-back. He seemed serious now.

Caspian looked at you, brooding and nervous. “In the years that we’ve seen each other, I have grown and I have learned much. And I have been in many situations where I could died. It’s - forced me to realize how much I haven’t done what I would liked with my life. Y/N, I hate to be so bold, but I’ve never felt as a friend should towards you. Not for many years now. And I’ve always wondered what would happen if I never said anything at all - and what would happen if I did - and I’ve never . . . quite been able to tell you. There was never a right time. Maybe now isn’t the right time, but I can’t keep waiting. I can’t keep wondering. I just - I need to know.”

You shifted. This was the absolute last thing you expected to hear from him. “You know, I remember when we were children,” you finally said. “Even then I felt a tug towards you. I always thought that everybody felt that way about their first friend, though, so I never paid it much mind. And then we became inseparable, and sometimes you were the air I breathed. I believe that when the whole of our world was created, it was from fire and glory and stardust. We were part of the same star; we came from the same atoms. You’re mine; I’m yours. It’s as simple as that.”

Caspian kissed you then; it was more expressive then anything he’d ever said to you.

#caspian #prince caspian #edmund pevensie #narnia #voyage of the dawn treader #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #caspian x reader #reader insert #caspian/reader #the pevensies #cecily writes

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