Always a King (Narnia XO, L/E, Teen) Complete 1/17

All finished stories from the Unconventional Couples board, the Crossover board, and the Alien Abyss boards will eventually be moved here. See those forums for descriptions.

Moderators: Anniepoo98, Itzstacie, truelovepooh, Erina, Forum Moderators

Locked
User avatar
Whimsicality
Addicted Roswellian
Posts: 429
Joined: Wed Apr 11, 2007 8:12 pm
Location: Surfing the 3000 tabs always open in my mind.
Contact:

Always a King (Narnia XO, L/E, Teen) Complete 1/17

Post by Whimsicality » Mon Jan 17, 2011 5:52 pm

Title: Always a King
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, all characters and original Roswell/Narnia (book and movie) verse settings belong to other very lucky people.
Pairings/Couples/Category: UC/Crossover. Liz/Edmund
Rating: Teen
Summary: Companion piece to Always. 50 line Character Study of Edmund.
Warnings: Contains hints of violence, romantic interactions although nothing graphic, angsty and happy just like Always.

A/N: So this was inspired by the Fifty Lines Challenge on Polar Attraction, but I cheated and changed some of the words so it doesn’t quite count :oops: There will also be one entitled Always a Queen for Liz, and possible some other small pieces in this verse since my muse adores it.









Candy – After Aslan died, for him, even though he came back and they won and all was right in Narnia, he could never so much as look at Turkish Delight again, and the memory of the taste made him physically sick.

Green – The first green shoots of spring always made him smile, proof that no matter how long and hard winter was, it always passed.

Skin – Her skin was so soft and touched with gold, warmer than his pale alabaster color, and he never tired of watching it glow in the sun, or feeling it brush against him in the dark.

Lightening – The manner of his entrance to Narnia left a stain on his soul, the feel of evil lingering even after others had forgotten and forgiven, and it was her presence, her ceaseless efforts to make him smile, that finally lifted that burden until he was free again.

Hair – Long and flowing, her hair moved around her like a living thing, as beautiful and untamable as she was.

Smile – She collected smiles like others collected stones or coins, teasing, pushing, mocking, and laughing until one couldn’t help but join her in her joy.

Sorrow – The devastation he felt when he realized she was gone was deep and unending, a dark pit of grief that swallowed him whole, his life void of the light she provided.

Lace – She knew he hated winter, even winter with Christmas, but she dragged him out of bed and made him look at the beautiful patterns of the snowflakes on the windows until he was so caught up in her fascination that he forgot all about witches and betrayal and aching loneliness.

Message – The paper smelled like her, like vanilla and jasmine and Narnia, and the familiar looping lines of her handwriting made him smile despite his irritation with Rabadash; he would be home soon, and she would be waiting.

Run – Laughter floated back to him on the wind and he doubled his speed, determined to catch her, and the pants she was holding; she was so going to pay for this.

Lost – Nothing made sense anymore, faces and places that should be familiar were foreign, the routine actions of day to day life mystified him, and without her he did not know who to be.

Ignorance – Ignorance truly was bliss, a bliss he wished for with every breath he took of gritty London air, with every schoolyard taunt, with every second not spent with her in Narnia.

Strike – He twisted his wrist and thrust, the sword sinking into the boggle with a satisfying squelch; another jumped onto his back, knife at the ready, and he felt a brief chill of fear until it suddenly fell, pierced through by Liz’s sword as she grinned merrily at him.

Manipulate – The trip to Calormen with Susan when Rabadash proposed was not his first, the others didn’t have his patience, his grasp of subtlety, so such tasks often fell to him, and sometimes he wished he had not had a reason to learn the art of politics.

Laugh – The sound of her laugh, warm and joyous and all encompassing, never failed to make him smile, and he did his best to incite the sound as often as possible.

Bed – The first time they shared a bed, his hands had trembled with nerves, but soon he could not sleep unless she was by his side; after they returned to London, the sight of his small, empty trundle made his heart shrivel in his chest and his hands shake for a different reason entirely.

Study – His parents were surprised by his sudden studious nature, as he had been an indifferent student at best before the trip to the Professor’s house; they didn’t know that trying to emulate her love of learning was the only thing that made him feel close to her.

Sacrifice – Learning of the cost of his freedom, of the price Aslan paid to the witch because of his foolish actions, was a horrified pain he never let himself forget.

Loyal – He sometimes doubted whether or not he deserved his title, but he never doubted her right to hers; she was faithful and true to the throne, to Narnia, and to him, and he said a silent prayer of thanks every day that he got to call her his.

Mother – The worry in his mother’s eyes tugged at him, but it was too hard to pretend to be normal, to pretend that he was okay, when every single thing about this life was wrong.

Danger – Seeing the sword pointed at her, watching the slave traders tie rope around her slender wrists, it infuriated and terrified him, and only his well earned patience kept him from acting rashly to remove the threat to his wife.

Haunted – Every glimpse of dark eyes, of long brown hair, of an infectious smile, made his heart stutter with grief and loss and the knowledge that it wasn’t her, that it would never be her again.

Sides – Though he reigned in Narnia for fifteen glorious years, he never forgot who he had served when he first arrived, and he never let himself forget the magic of forgiveness, or why he needed it.

Liar – Hiding her hands behind her back, she shook her head when he shot her a suspicious look after brushing the snow from his face, but her eyes were sparkling with merriment; he stalked towards her and grabbed her wrist before she could escape, smirking when he found tell tale icy crystals lingering on her soft skin, and claimed a kiss as penance..

Diamond – The diamond rings in the shop window stopped him in his tracks, pointed reminders of what and who he’d lost, and only Peter’s firm but gentle hand was able to pull him away before he broke.

Crown – The crown always felt heavy on his head, a weight of responsibility and expectation he hadn’t fully understood when he first accepted it, and a weight he could only hope he was worthy of bearing.

Surprise – He spluttered as he resurfaced, blinking the water out of his eyes and frowning in the general direction of his giggling wife; tricking him with a kiss, for shame.

Song – The tune Tumnus was playing on his pipes was merry and lilting, and watching Liz and Lucy dancing around him, giggling uncontrollably as they linked arms, made his heart jump unexpectedly.

Balcony – Something soft landed on his head and he looked up to see Liz leaning over their balcony, dropping down the other glove he’d forgotten, before blowing him a kiss and disappearing back inside, the warmth of her smile lingering behind.

Jump – His heart jumped into his throat when he heard the sailors call out about another person pulled out of the water and he sprinted for the deck, hoping against hope that it was her, that the long years of emptiness had finally come to an end.

Sleep – Her face was peaceful in sleep, as young and innocent as it had been their first time in Narnia, and he felt no shame as tears of joy trailed down his face while he watched the woman he’d almost lost hope of ever seeing again; his wife.

Dance – Lifting his arm, he spun her underneath it before pulling her close once more, knowing that his blinding smile matched her own as they danced for the first time as man and wife under the eyes of the entire court.

Torture – Breathing hurt, speaking hurt, moving hurt, living hurt, and every time he closed his eyes he saw her face, watched her lips frame words he couldn’t hear, breaking his heart over and over again.

Possession – He felt possessed whenever he saw her, unable to speak a coherent word or move without tripping over his feet; it wasn’t until Lucy gave him a knowing look and wink after he stumbled through a particularly embarrassing sentence, that he realized what he was feeling, and felt the first rush of fear that she might not feel it back.

Kiss – He still wasn’t sure how she felt, didn’t know if her hugs and teasing glances were in jest or real, but he knew he couldn’t wait any longer to find out, and so he boldly pressed his lips against hers, relieved warmth spreading through his chest when she stepped into his arms and deepened the kiss.

Purge – After battle he could never go straight to celebration like Peter, always had to take a moment alone to rid himself of his demons, to fight the urge to be sick he still felt every time he spilled blood.

Trial – No one treated him like he couldn’t be trusted, like he needed a period of probation before they welcomed him fully to Aslan’s army, but he felt he needed to prove himself none-the-less, and flinched every time the witch’s name was mentioned.

Battle – He had been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to fight, that he would show weakness at the crucial moment, but when he saw the two dwarves chase after the girl who had made him smile, he lifted his sword and swung, before he even had time to think.

Rage – When they stepped through the wardrobe and all of their memories came rushing back, along with the realization that they were no longer five but four, he screamed and shoved his way back through the coats, pounding on the wood with his fists until they bled, and the others pulled him away, sobbing brokenly.

Tongue – Silver tongue she called him teasingly after he negotiated their first truce with the Calormenes, and rewarded him with a kiss that made his whole body tingle.

Bronze – The bronze weaponry at the Pitt Rivers museum at Oxford drew him like a moth to a flame, and he immolated himself daily with the memories and regrets they inspired.

Scars – His skin was young and flawless once more, the scars he’d earned in battle, physical representations of the life he had lived, all gone, and the sight of his petulant, innocent face in the mirror made him want to curse and break things.

Blind – She blew out the flame of the last candle, plunging the room into darkness, leaving them to rely on nothing but touch, taste, sound, and the magic of the two of them, moving together.

Respite – He took a breath, then another, the first moment of peace he’d had since they engaged the giants, and scanned the battle field for his brother, both glad and sad that Liz was safely ensconced with his sisters at Cair Paravel, far from danger but far from him.

Angel – She was a vision of perfection, lying on the deck soaking wet, gasping for breath, and he thought his heart would burst in his chest before he even touched her.

Body – The feel of her body against his, warm, trembling, and there, took his breath away, and the sounds of the sailors, of Caspian’s confused voice, all faded away as he lost himself in her presence.

Hollow – Another student smiled at him, a blush rising up her cheeks when he smiled politely back, before fading into disappointment as he walked by without another glance; she wasn’t the only girl to look at him like that, and he had learned to rely on empty smiles and distant dismissals, there was no room in his heart or head for anyone but her.

Command – The first time he led an army into battle on his own, without Peter by his side, he thought he was going to be sick, and only the white handkerchief Liz had tucked teasingly into his armor kept him from letting one of his generals take the lead; when they won, he tied the scrap of cloth to his sword pommel, where it remained until it was nothing more than a tattered bundle of threads.

Hold – When the brief but searing pain of the train crash faded, and he saw the green hills of Narnia once again, he held his breath, hands clenched into fists, until he saw a still form with dark hair lying in the grass and started to run.

Magic – Her face was older, her hair shorter, but the smile curving her lips was achingly familiar and when he reverently touched her cheek, those glorious brown eyes opened, brimming with joy as she pulled him on top of her, and he knew, he’d never have to let her go again; they were finally home.
Image

Whimsicality's Fics

There was nothing more she wanted to do than crawl back into bed, wrap herself in Michael, and spend the day trading kisses and learning what made him sigh, what made his breath catch, what made him purr in the back of his throat. - Liz in Hunted by Ashita

Polar Attraction - Not just for Polarists...

Locked