cribellate | narnia au;

[They go home.

They leave Telmar and when they cross back to Narnia, the moment it happens, Lucy brightens, and even her horse gets more energy. The trees wake up as they cross, advancing the cry - the Queen returned, the Queen returned.

They almost don't stop until they get to Cair Paravel, and Lucy stops them just before they get there. She can see the flag that signifies that all the monarchs are in attendance is down. She looks over at George, and she reaches for his hand. She will not be alone. She refuses to be alone.

When they get in, she's immediately pulled into a meeting with all of her siblings, and she drags George along, and it gets -

- rough.

Lucy will absolutely hold her own, even as Edmund and Susan yell at her, even as she argues, and refuses to apologize, and then she says she's married and there's silence, and Peter snaps at her. It's family bickering, and Lucy could have withstood almost anything, but Peter yells, and she starts to cry, and she fights them even through all of that.

When they leave, after the fights, hours later, Lucy is drained, and she thinks it's over but then Edmund pulls George back, and Lucy tries to find energy for another fight when Susan comes and takes her.

It's hours later when they finally meet again, and Lucy is so tired.]

George?

[She sits up from her chair when she hears someone come into her apartments. She's changed outfits, bathed, and she looks smaller, for a sad, tiny moment.]

[George had known it would be bad. Even as he sees Lucy brightening, he can't help thinking of what they're facing, what it will mean to return to her family.

It's not as bad as he'd expected, though George stays mostly out of it, keeping himself near Lucy, providing as much physical support as he can. But the monarchs are arguing and, married or not, he doesn't have a place in that argument. He steps in only when Lucy cries, and even then, what can he do? Tell off the high king for yelling at his sister?

It's exhausting, and when they leave, George wants desperately to go with Lucy, to make sure she's all right, but Edmund pulls him back, and he knows it will be more of the same, worse now because Edmund will expect him to have answers, explanations, and he doesn't have any more to give than what Lucy already has.

By the time he gets back to Lucy's rooms, he thinks he would rather fight Calormenes for hours without rest than be subject to another Pevensie family argument.

But he hears Lucy's voice, and something in him relaxes.]

It's me, mo chridhe.

[He hasn't bathed, or changed, or anything else, really, but he gathers her into his arms the moment he sees her.]

[She immediately feels better, melting into his touch. He holds her and she presses her head in the space between his shoulder and his neck, and doesn't cry. He had to see her cry earlier, and she doesn't like it.

It was dark, and terrible.]

What happened? What did they say?

[She shouldn't have let him go alone. He didn't deserve it. She owes him more than that.]

[He takes a moment, without answering, just to hold her. Everything else is worth it so long as he can hold her at the end of the day. When he speaks, it's into her hair.]

Much of the same.

[There had been yelling, and George had managed to hold his temper, but only just.]

I'm not to have a title; they were quite clear on that. [It doesn't matter. He doesn't want one.] But I may stay with you here.

[She clings to him, holds onto him. She feels torn. She loves him, but she loves her family, too, she is devoted to her country, and-

-and she knows duty before pleasure. But still. She presses her face against his shoulder and holds onto him like maybe he is holding her to the earth.]

You are my sweetest grace, George.

I am sorry. I wish you had fallen in love with a normal girl, who could give you a normal life. Whose family would see you and know how good, and how kind, and how honorable you are.

[He holds her just the same, like if he lets her go, everything might crumble.]

I don't want a normal girl, mo chridhe. I don't love a normal girl. I don't think I could.

[She bursts into tears again, and holds him, and shakes her head.]

I am so sorry, my love.

[She knows he said it was okay, but she's curled up against him, whimpering just a little bit.]

Perhaps you should bathe. And change. And we can go to bed, after such a heavy day.

I should.

[But he doesn't move, not ready to let go yet.]

Will you come with me?

[That seems like the best solution just now.]

[She nods, and reaches for his hand as she gets up, untangling herself from his lap a little but continuing to touch him, because she does not have the will stop.]

[George wouldn't let her go far if she tried. Once he's on his feet, he dips to pick her up, bridal style, knowing she might protest but also that it will be easier for both of them than trying to shuffle along without letting go. He carries her to the bath before he sets her down again.]

[She does not fuss. It is quiet in her rooms; she's asked all her maids to go, and the water is still warm from her own bath, just a little while ago. She waits, until he sets her down, and without much else to say, she begins to undress him. It's not fast. She does not have to rush.

It's also not sexual. For a moment, it's as though they are normal. As if there aren't servants or anyone else in the world. She does it with slightly unsure hands, even though mens clothes are far easier. And when he's undressed, she sits next to him, because she does not want to be far away from him.]

[George watches her as she undresses him, moving to help her as needed, touching her on occasion, but no more than tucking her hair behind her ear or letting his hand rest at her waist. When she's finished, he climbs into the bath, grateful it's still warm, and exhales in relief. He reaches for her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the palm.]

You don't regret it, do you?

Regret you?

[She shakes her head.]

No, my love. I do not regret anything.

You are the best thing I could have done.

[He smiles and leans over the edge of the tub to kiss her.]

I don't regret it either.

[He's not much looking forward to how difficult this may make things for him, but he doesn't regret it.]

[She smiles, gentle, and kisses him back.]

I am most glad for that.

It would hurt, too much, if you did.

[He lingers a bit, kissing her once more, and then pulls back to clean himself.]

I've not regretted anything we've done together, mo chridhe.

Do you regret I am not with child?

[They haven't really talked about it, have they?]

[George lowers his head, hesitant. He isn't sure how he feels about it. There'd barely been time to get used to the idea, and it was such a fraught situation.

He's silent as he thinks it through, washing himself methodically so he has something to do with his hands. Eventually, very softly,]

Yes.

[She goes very quiet.]

I am sorry, my love.

I am.

[As though she is at fault for it. She's not, but-]

[George moves immediately to take her hand, splashing a little over the side of the tub.]

No, mo chridhe. You have nothing to be sorry for. Don't...I'm sorry.

[She laughs just a little, but she's so close to crying that it's clear that she's trying to keep herself together. She kisses him on the mouth, and presses their foreheads together.]

I think we are both tired, and too terribly stressed for this. Can we-

-finish here, and come to bed. All right?

[He closes his eyes a moment as she presses against him.]

Aye. Do you want to go on, and I'll be in when I've finished?

[He doesn't want her to go, but he only needs to rinse his hair.]

[She gets up, and she nods. She undresses and curls in her bed, and knows he won't be long.

When he gets there, her hands reach out for him, first.]

George.

[She smiles just a little.]

[He slides into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her. When she's so close to him, the rest of it doesn't matter so much.]

Lucy. I'm sorry, love. I hope you know I don't blame you. I don't...none of this was your fault.

I do know that.

[She tangles close to him, her head against his chest, so that she can hear his heartbeat.]

It has been a very tiring day. It is a miracle that we did not say a word that we could use to harm each other.

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