cribellate | narnia au;

Magnus isn't sure how it happened. He's far too good at portal traveling to fall into such a mess, to be caught unawares as he steps through the glowing circle. But ever since Alec's death months ago, he's been downhearted, depressed, solemn. Easily distracted. One second he's thinking of his apartment, their apartment, their home, and the next his mind is filled with memories. Painful but treasured.

It's enough to make him lose track of where he's going.

Limbo should be the answer. He should be flying through the seam between the fabric of dimensions, never stepping foot in one or the other, never finding his place. But instead he steps out of the portal, the same as any other time, and finds himself in a wood. There are pools here and there, surrounded by trees. It's peaceful, but unnerving in a way, and Magnus wants out.

Especially so when a lion appears.

It's like nothing he's ever seen before, massive and majestic and every nerve in Magnus' body tingles at its presence. Not in a wholly comfortable, thrilling way either. He stares at the beast, full of trepidation, before it does something remarkable.

It calls him by his real name.

The thought to cower leaves him, replaced by an aching sweetness he can't begin to describe. He's known.

"You're hurting."

"Yes."

"That pain will never leave, as you know. But I know a way to ease it."

A green ring appears on Magnus' finger, right beside his wedding ring.

The lion leads him to a pool in particular. Magnus hesitates.

"Can't I stay with you? For a little longer?"

He doesn't understand how he can feel both terrified of and desperate for the lion's attention and presence. But he does. He's not scared of what he might find on the other side of the pool, but he wants to stay in the warm glow of the beast.

"You know better than to stay in one place," the creature says. And, again, he calls him by name, and nudges him towards the water.

Magnus takes a deep breath and leaps.

Lucy is bored.

This is not a typical state of affairs. Lucy doesn’t often find herself bored; she is far, far too engaged for bored, but there is a diplomatic mission from Telmar in Cair Paravel and everything is in a specific order and everyone is busy and Lucy does not want to be in the castle to deal with all of that. She found her way to a copse of pear trees, and crawled up one, and she’s considering how to alleviate her boredom without disrupting Susan’s perfect setup or without irritating Peter or without giving Edmund ammunition for a later session of teasing when she hears someone coming through the woods.

She clambers up the tree a little, and she can see him, but she doesn’t think he can see her. He looks-

-she has never seen anyone who looks like him. She stills, and her dress gets tangled in the tree, but she doesn’t want to move anyway.

She keeps looking at him. “The sweetest pears are the very pinkest ones,” she says, when she sees him reaching for one. There are ones with a pink rosy blush, and she peers over a branch. “Are you a Telmarine?”

[She runs her hands through his curls, and scrubs them clean.]

Lovely.

[She kisses him.]

I hear that tomorrow, we will be married.

[He laughs and leans toward her touches.]

I've heard that as well.

[It occurs to him that he doesn't know how they do weddings in Telmar.]

At home, it's bad luck for the groom to see his bride before the wedding.

[She sits back just a little, just enough.]

Do you mean to tell me you wish to be blindfolded?

I will not leave your side, you know. You have a duty to protect me.

[That's not why she won't leave his side.]

[George won't leave her side either. He smiles and kisses her.]

It would be difficult to get through the morning blindfolded, but I could probably manage.

Mostly...I wondered what weddings are like here.

[He saw a few in Calormen, but he knows they'll be different here.]

Oh.

[She thinks about it a moment.]

In Narnia, they would cover me in flowers, and Peter would marry us. We would be married under a canopy of trees. We would dance, afterwards, and there would be a feast, and cake. They would give us so many gifts, but we would give them all away to anyone who asked for them.

[She considers a moment.]

I do not know, in Telmar.

[George watches her as she describes a Narnian wedding, wondering if she regrets that she won't have that. He regrets not being able to give it to her.]

Then we'll find out together.

[He smiles gently and takes her hand.]

Shadowhunters mark each other. Permanent runes for marriage, one on the hand, one over the heart. [He presses her hand to his heart.] I don't know what the runes look like, though.

[She considers that.]

We could mark each other. A tattoo. It would not be the same, but over my heart, here.

[Higher up on her chest, and then on his. The lion that is spread over George's chest would sit just over any mark.]

Or I could get you a ring.

A ring?

[He smiles.]

They do that at home as well. That's what my mum and dad did...

[On occasion, the realization that he will never see his family again--never introduce them to Lucy, not have any of them at his wedding--hits him, sudden and hard. He sucks in a breath and lowers his head, brow furrowing.

His voice is a little rough.] Rings would be good.

[Oh.

Oh no.

Lucy rocks her hands through his hair, then, and presses a kiss against his cheek.]

My love, what is it?

[He was happy a moment ago.]

[He closes his eyes so the tears gathering won't actually fall.]

It's nothing-- [he starts, but he frowns and shakes his head] I always thought, when I got married, I'd have my family there, my friends.

[He's quiet a moment, not trusting his voice. Then he clears his throat.]

I miss them. Sometimes.

You are allowed to miss them.

[She reaches up to kiss him on the cheeks.]

If my family were not with me, I think I would be not half as brave as you.

[He closes his eyes and exhales as she kisses him.]

It's not bravery.

[He's not sure what it is, really. Just survival, he supposes. What choice did he have but to keep going?]

To fall in love? To be kind, and loyal, and good, instead of give into a baser desire?

To allow yourself to be happy?

That is the highest order of bravery.

I don't know that I did any of those things until I met you, mo chridhe.

[He touches her cheek and smiles.]

Anyhow, which of us is the Valiant, eh?

You make me braver.

[She beams at him.]

You would make me a lioness.

He doesn't know what he expects to find when he steps into the puddle. Actually, what he expects a little of is to be wet, but his shiny clothes are miraculously dry, as is his hair. (Even in mourning, Magnus makes sure he looks his best. He always has done, believing the sparkle will at least alleviate others' pain. It's just that, with Alec, because of Alec, he has people in his life who know better.)

He finds himself near to an orchard, which he figures is as good a place as any to start. Sauntering through the sun dappled lines of trees, his attention is taken by one such sweet pear when a voice speaks.

He doesn't start; that's not like him. But he does look towards the source -- ah, a young woman -- with brows raised in interest. She's a pretty thing, beautiful in a way that shines, that's more than just appearance.

Grinning at her, he plucks a pear. "No. Guess again."

It doesn't matter that he has no idea what a Telmarine is. He'll figure that out later. Right now, he wants to make a pretty girl smile.

She peeks over the branches, and she tugs her skirt a little. The skirt holds; this is not the work of a stray branch. She tugs a little more, but lets it go, looking at him, trying to figure out who he is. "If you are not from Telmar, then you might be from one of the islands to the east. The ones under Narnia's protection. Are you looking for the High King?" she asks.

She looks curious, her eyes bright. "You are not from Calormen. And I would know you, if you were Narnian."

[He laughs and kisses her.]

You are already a lioness, Lucy, my love.

Well.

Perhaps.

[She kisses him again, and gets up. The water is starting to chill, and she reaches for a cloth to dry off, to dry her hair.]

But you make me braver, just the same.

[George stays in the water just a moment longer to watch her.]

Then we make a good pair.

[Getting up slowly, he steps out of the tub and stretches luxuriously. He reaches for her as she starts to dry her hair, curling an arm around her waist and pulling her to him.]

We make each other better.

[She gets close to him, and looks up at him, and beams. And she reaches for him to help him try his own hair, his curls tangling a little as she dries.]

We do.

That is why I will never give you away.

[He bends to help her reach and laughs.]

Nor I you.

[He pulls back so he can work his fingers through his curls to separate them.]

Do you remember what I told you before about parabatai? They say it's like that for parabatai as well. They make each other better, draw on each other's strength.

Are you asking me to be your parabatai?

[She doesn't even know if it's possible. She doesn't fully understand the word, either.]

narnia au;

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