cribellate | narnia au;

The captain of the queen's guard.

[She stretches.]

We owe them an explanation. And an apology.

[He can't stop the way his gaze slides over her as she stretches.]

Aye, we do. I'll speak to them. You should talk to your maids.

Does that mean some time apart?

[They have barely been apart for days now. It feels strange to not have him at her side.]

[He kisses her, a comfort to them both.]

An hour at most.

An hour.

[She gets up, and finds her robe, and nudges him up.]

Get dressed, my lord, so I may allow my maids in to help me.

[George sits up, but slowly, and tugs her close by her robe.]

Shall I find you here when I've told my men?

[She comes closer and kisses him again.]

I can find you once I've dressed.

All right.

[He kisses her once more before getting out of bed to dress. He's gotten soft, these last few days, not having to worry about his duties. He'll have to be more careful.]

[She lets him go, and then she goes to get dressed. Inside of Cair Paravel, she doesn't have a guard, most of the time, except when George is next to her, but there are always people who surround her - maids, of course, but her friends, courtiers, people who just want to spend time with her. So first she tells her maids, who are whispery and happy for her, because it's impossible to not be.

They re not shocked. They had eyes, too, and they could see the way that George looked at her, the way that she looked back at him. Of course it is no surprise.

So she lets time go by before she goes to find him in the training yard, coming up to sit on the sidelines, her heart hammering a little when she sees him again. She waits until he spots her, and makes her way close, to lean over the side of the training yard.]

Hullo, my lord.

[She says it with so much pleasure.]

[George tells himself that explaining to his men why he absconded with their queen is hardly the most difficult thing he's ever done, but it still somehow feels like it. Despite his fears--that they would still think of him as a Calormen slave, a barbarian, unworthy of their sweet queen--they are neither shocked nor angry. They're happy for him, and one of the minotaur actually tells him it's about time. Narnians continually surprise him.

They're jovial as they train, teasing George and joking with each other. George is already smiling when he spots Lucy, but his face brightens further even so.

As he makes his way over, he can feel the entire guard pretending not to watch them, so he doesn't lean in to kiss her, but he does take her hand and kiss it.]

My lady wife.

[He almost laughs. His grin is wide enough to split his face.]

[His smile is wide, and hers is in response, a blush lighting her face as if this is the first time that he's ever done that. It is, in a way. She lets him kiss her hand and flicks her hand a little. As if to say continue, before she finds a seat. There are worse things to do with her time than watch him train, and she waits as the morning passes, having brief conversations with people who want her attention until it's time for lunch, and everyone begins to leave. This is not a formal place; Lucy's presence doesn't mean much in the way of formalities, here.

So finally George is coming over to sit next to her.]

Did it go smoothly?

[George would be lying if he said he wasn't trying a little harder than usual. The rest of the guards aren't human, which means he doesn't have to hold back as much with them. The minotaurs strength matches his own, even if their speed does not, and today they're giving him a hard time for running off with the queen.

When he comes to sit next to her, he's still smiling, and he settles in comfortably.]

The training? You saw.

[He's teasing, and he shakes his head a moment later.]

They...took it well. They weren't as surprised as I'd expected.

[She smiles just a little.]

Yes, clearly you have been lax in your practice.

[She's teasing too, kicking her legs a little bit.]

We are predictable, it seems.

[George laughs. It's an expression that comes much easier than it once did.]

Oi! That's your husband you're talking about.

[With an almost shy smile, he takes her hand.]

We weren't as subtle as we should have been, I reckon.

Yes, and if I cannot be honest with my husband, who may I be honest with?

[She holds his hand, and it feels so honest.]

Perhaps I am glad. Perhaps I have always wished to be open with how much I love you.

I'm going to have to up my game, I see. Now I'm fighting for the honor of my wife.

[He smiles. He couldn't stop himself if he tried.]

I have. I have always wished for that.

[She beams, and she kisses him fast, on the mouth, and there are people, there are people who are milling about, not near them, but close enough to see.

It's thrilling.]

There.

[George's heart stops for a breath when she kisses him, and he glances around them instinctively. When he realizes what he's doing, though, he laughs.]

I didn't know how much I wanted you to do that until you did.

Oh?

[She giggles and kisses him again.]

My lord, my love.

[George's instincts are difficult to turn off, so he returns the kiss for only a moment before pulling back.]

Would you care to take a stroll on the beach, my lady wife?

Only if you promise to put your feet in the water with me.

[Like they did the first time they met. Only no one will cross the beach to stop them today, to yell at George, to make them feel bad for it.]

[He remembers that day, how close he'd felt to the boy he used to be, how much he'd wished they could just be a boy and a girl, playing in the water.]

There's nothing I'd like more.

[He smiles as he stands, offering his hand to help her up. And also to kiss hers.]

[She accepts it, gratefully, and stands.]

Do you wish for a guard to accompany us?

[He tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow, and it feels strange. He's happy to be able to do it, but it's such a foreign gesture, something the nobles do, something he shouldn't.

He doesn't stop, though.]

Are you feeling under-protected, mo chridhe?

Not of late, no.

Have you not heard? The Queen married the head of her guard.

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