cribellate | narnia au;

[She gives his scar another kiss.]

You are no barbarian, so it does not matter.

[He smiles and kisses her forehead.]

In my home? My ancestors would paint themselves with woad for battle and run at their enemies naked and screaming.

I think maybe 'barbarian' is just a word we use when we don't understand someone.

The first Narnians could not speak. Who cares what our ancestors did?

George. My protector. My shadow. I love you, and I think I have loved you since I saw you looking at me at though I were a star in the skies.

[She curls closer to him.]

You looked like starlight. You wore that blue dress, and you twinkled with diamonds.

[He wiggles his fingers in the air to show the twinkling.]

Did you know Edmund had to convince me to attend? I did not want to. I was in the garden, and I was in my underthings, and I was not particularly excited about a Calormene retinue.

[She laughs a little.]

I'll have to thank King Edmund, then. Will you give him a kiss for me?

[He swoops in for a quick kiss.]

You can kiss him yourself!

[She squeals when he kisses her, and giggles, and straddles him.]

My fine Calormene warrior, bested by a Narnian queen. They write epic songs of such things.

They'll write songs about you.

[He grins up at her, hands on her hips.]

Of the queen who tamed the savage warrior. Who made the lion her shadow.

A lion whose speech no one can understand, for his accent is thicker than a Marsh-Wiggles.

[She leans down and kisses him again.]

[George smiles into the kiss.]

You understand me just fine, my queen. That's enough for me.

Oh yes.

There is no question about that.

Jist hink hoo stoaner it coods be tae kin me if Ah didne caur tae be understuid.

[She pushes at him a little.]

I can so understand.

[But she laughs and presses her nose to his neck.]

Stay.

[Laughing softly, he curls his fingers into Lucy's hair.]

As long as you wish, your majesty.

Forever?

[She asks, gently, and clings to him. Her eyes are already starting to close.]

[George kisses her hair, fingers trailing over Lucy's back lazily.]

Aye, forever.

[She finally does sleep, and it's a sweet thing, as she feels free to love him. The days pass, and every few moments they have time together, alone, it is like a blessing. Sometimes she moves in very close, so she can brush her fingertips against his hand.

It is nice to sleep in his arms.

They are to go to Archenland when Edmund corners her. If you are sleeping with your guard, you must be careful, he tells her, because you are terribly obvious. Don't let him tumble you anywhere he likes.

Lucy goes quiet for most of the trip, then, and they're on the last leg of the trip, and her tent has been set up when she puts on a cloak and starts out into the woods. She knows George is just nearby, and she climbs a tree when she finds one that is convenient, and sits in a low branch, swinging her legs and nudging George on the shoulder.]

Do I owe you an apology?

[George always feels as though they are being too obvious, but if Lucy doesn't mind, he has no complaints. The trip to Archenland is the first time he's gone south since Rabadash brought him to Narnia, and it's on his mind a little. He's not nervous, exactly, but Susan is still considering Rabadash's suit, and that means he can't be exactly easy.

He leans against the trunk of the tree she's climbed, and smiles up at her.]

For what, majesty?

I feel as though I was too quiet.

[She smiles down at him.]

My royal brother - ah, Edmund - he said things that made me think, perhaps, that I am not doing enough to protect you.

[Because this job, it goes both ways.]

[He curls his hand around her ankle loosely. For the most part, he no longer scowls everywhere he goes, but a frown tugs at his lips now.]

What protection am I in need of? What did the king say?

[She doesn't tug her ankle away, but she looks down at him.]

He told me I should not let you tumble me anywhere you like.

[For the Pevensies, that is practically vulgar.]

I should not let anyone think that you are-

[She goes quiet.]

Doing anything dishonorable.

[For anyone in Narnia, it's practically vulgar. George's eyebrows jump, and his face darkens.]

Well, for starters, I've not tumbled you anywhere.

[He does let go of her ankle then, crossing his arms over his chest.]

I don't care what they say about me. I don't want any rumors about you, though.

[She looks down and suddenly she wants to be on the same level as him, so she reaches her hands out to him.]

Catch me, please?

[She doesn't drop like a stone, but waits until he's reaching up, reaches for him, and the transition happens smoothly. Once she's safely in his arms, her toes on the ground, she takes his hand.]

Well, that is something to discuss, at some point. When we intend to become lovers.

Rumors will happen.His royal pratness King Edmund is. More perceptive.

[George catches her easily, lightly. He weaves his fingers through hers.]

What is worrying you, then? Is your brother upset with me? Are you?

[He lifts her hand to his lips and kisses her palm.]

I don't care what any of them think, so long as you're not upset.

I am not.

[And she isn't. He kisses her palm, and she leans against him, and then puts all her weight on him, her face against his shoulder entirely. He smells familiar. This is what she chose him for, for the way he makes her feel. Safe, and loved, and warm, and wanted.]

I am not upset with you, my love.

I do not want any to think poorly of you.

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I swear I can html. for real

We all have our moments

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