Three Sentence Fics
As usual, I wrote so many.
Decisions in the Moment
Prompt: ASOIAF/Game of Thrones, Lyanna & Rhaegar, first meeting
She's half out of Benjen's armor when he finds her, scrabbling desperately at buckles and laces and a thousand intricate bits that had never seemed quite so confounding when she played squire for her brothers in Winterfell's training yard.
“Do you require assistance, my lady?” he says from behind her, and she spins (a vambrace falling to the ground with a clatter as she does) to find him standing there, all nonchalant, tracing the lines of the laughing tree on her shield with one long, elegant finger.
“For I would give it to you, gladly,” Rhaegar says, soft in the hush of the clearing, his eyes meeting hers with no threat, no challenge, and so she grins (baring her teeth), and says, “It is kind of you to offer, Your Grace, but I believe I have shown - assistance is not a thing I have need of.”
Like the Sun Eclipsed
Prompt: ASoIaF/Narnia, Lucy/Melisandre, the night is dark and full of terrors
“Terrors can walk abroad in the day too,” Lucy says doubtfully, eying up this strange woman, with her too-red hair and too-pale skin.
“But the light will vanquish them, day or night, no?” Melisandre says, the great ruby at her throat pulsing as she leans in close to Lucy.
“And a champion of the light cannot hide from my eyes,” she says, and her fingers brush across Lucy's cheek, impossibly warm, though Lucy shivers still.
Never Say Too Much
Prompt: Being Human, George/Mitchell, the fingerless gloves.
“You never take those off, do you?” George asks, staring at the gloves on Mitchell's hands, which by all rights ought to be grubby and smell like something evil (they'd smell like dog if George wore them, he just knows it), but instead always seem just as good as new, like Mitchell himself.
“I do, when it's appropriate,” Mitchell says, and George finds himself stuttering, “Oh, and when would that be?” before he's even got the chance to properly think it through, but Mitchell just smirks and sips his beer.
“Wouldn't you like to know.”
Help Me Love
Prompt: The Good Wife, Will, this is the happiest he's ever been
The first time, he's six years old when his dad takes him to his first game at Wrigley Field, and a foul ball goes sailing overhead, so close he can almost taste the dirt off the mound.
The second time, he's twenty-something, fresh out of law school, hungry, eager and still kind of gangly in a suit that's too big, piling on the questions in his first cross until wham - he catches the witness out, gets a nod from the judge, and saunters back to his chair feeling ten feet tall.
The third time, Alicia rolls under the sheets with him, throwing her head back with that throaty laugh she's got, the warm light catching the lines around her eyes, and he knows - this time, there's no way he can ever get any happier.
I've Got a Plan
Prompt: Hark! A Vagrant. Pirate/Nemesis, this ship is named Consummation.
“I do believe that man is taunting me,” the Captain said, snapping shut his spyglass, the navy wool of his coat straining 'round his broad shoulders.
In the distance, the bold letters painted on the pirate ship's noble prow glittered with the water's reflected light, and the Captain narrowed his bright blue eyes and said, “Lieutenant, set a course to follow that ship - she'll be making for port soon, unless I miss my guess.”
Silence reigned on the deck of the Consummation, until her Captain coughed and scratched at his beard, saying, “Least, that's what I assume's going through his mind, mateys - now make for harbor, afore I flog the skins from the lot of you!”
Don't Look Down
Prompt: inception | cobb/ariadne | i threw my hands in the air and said show me something, he said if you dare, come a little closer
“Come on,” he says from the elevator, holding out his hand, but she remembers this, she remembers what happened the last time, even if that was in a twisted dreamscape built of old memories and this is reality, solid and clean; she resists the urge to check, to reach into her pocket and wrap her fingers around her totem, even as they curl into a fist with wanting to.
Cobb notices - of course he notices, everything is details built on details to him - and steps forward, one hand on the doors, to say, “Ariadne, don't you want to create something new?”
She does; even though she knows the ground will drop out from under her feet, at least they'll be falling together.
To Guide You Through
Prompt: inception, ariadne, i was born with fire in my blood
“Little Ariadne,” Eames chuckles, after her temper has once again flared up at poor Arthur, “so full of fire, our girl.”
If you only knew what I've seen in dreams, she thinks, and don't you know who I'm named for?
She knows they're all just waiting, these men of hers, even if they don't; waiting for her to unwind the thread and give it a spark.
I Want Only to Haunt You
Prompt: Luther: Alice Morgan - I always wanted to be a widow...
When it's time to create herself anew, she chooses carefully in the shops - sleek dresses of fine black wool, smart hats and shoes to match, a coat with just enough flair.
The ring, of course, had belonged to her mother, and she feels it's only appropriate, twisting it around her finger, holding out her hand to John to show it off.
“Does being a widow suit me, do you think?” she asks, and sees the question in his eyes, as resigned to her as ever - What've you done this time, Alice? - so she just laughs and turns away, the white lining of her coat flashing as she goes.
Keep Hanging On
Prompt: Mythology/Avengers: Loki tries to cut off Sif's hair.
“I thought you wanted me to help with this,” he says as she wriggles about, wrapping his fist in the length of Sif's hair, tugging just enough to let her feel the potential, the control in it. “Of course, you could ask Thor or one of your other oafish warrior companions, but you'll like as not end up minus an ear rather than your hair.”
She tips her head back to look at him, at the knife gleaming in his hand, at the tension between them, so close to being sliced through, and says, “I've changed my mind - I'll keep it, and prove I am above such liabilities,” and he laughs and releases her for now, her hair falling through his fingers like chance.
Say, What's in this Drink?
Prompt: Avengers, Steve/Darcy, baby, it's cold outside
“I really ought to be going,” Steve said, putting down his hot chocolate mug, and Darcy didn't think she'd be kidding herself if she thought he sounded just a teensy bit regretful.
“Sure, but, um - wait, it's really freaking cold out there, you'll freeze your balls off!” she blurted out, immediately cursing herself - way to go, Darcy, not only did you let him know you're thinking about his balls, but you just told a man who spent 70 years on ice that it's a little too cold out there for him, nice job.
“Well,” Steve said, smiling, looking from the snow blowing at the window back to the (she really freaking hoped) warm and totally friendly Darcy, “I suppose one more cocoa wouldn't hurt.”
Only One to Go
Prompt: Much Ado About Nothing, Beatrice/Benedick, in our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off
“Whatever happened to his fifth wit, cousin?” Hero asks later, and Beatrice finds once more that she can never be quite certain whether that look on Hero's face is true innocence or a mask to cover a sly wit of her own.
“Why, it resides in his breeches,” she says, “where all men consider their greatest wit to lie.”
“I am surprised you did not cause that wit to go halting off as well, for it seems most unlike you to leave such a task unfinished; perhaps you will be able to help him complete it shortly,” Hero says, and this time all the innocence in the world could not keep the corners of her mouth from twitching, nor Beatrice from lobbing a pillow at her head.
Living for the Present
Prompt: The Mummy series, Evelyn & Nefertiri, no harm ever came of researching your past self (or: Nefertiri might not have been clean-cut as Evie’s two-minute flashback conveyed)
“Would you happen to know anything about an ancient Egyptian princess named Nefertiri, who lived during the time of Imhotep?” she asks Ardeth, because really, historical sources on such ancient times are hard enough to come by to begin with, and when one's subject is a woman on top of all that, it becomes quite impossible to find anything at all through the normal channels.
“Yes, I know her story well,” he says, proving once more that a strong oral history tradition is worth its weight in gold, so far as she's concerned, “as she was the ruler who set the Magi to our task, and took their two leaders as her lovers to seal their pact.”
Somewhere behind her, she's dimly aware of Rick making a sound somewhere between laughter and choking, though she's far too busy jumping to her feet and exclaiming, “She did no such thing!” to pay him much attention.
Allowed to Be Brand New
Prompt: Sleepy Hollow (TV), Abbie Mills/Ichabod Crane, makeover montage
“Miss Mills, these trousers seem unaccountably stiff - have they been starched?” Crane asks, swiveling in front of the mirror while Abbie raises an eyebrow at him.
Okay, maybe it hadn't been pure altruism for her to take him shopping for new clothes, but damn, that man can fill out a pair of jeans - who's going to blame her if her eyes are wandering a bit?
“Don't think I've failed to notice what you're up to, Lieutenant,” he calls over his shoulder, walking back to the dressing room, “and I must say, it is most inappropriate for a lady,” but still, she's pretty sure that's a grin hiding under his voice.
Of Course It's Going to Get Better
Prompt: The West Wing, Josh/Donna, bringing each other coffee
"What's wrong with it?" Donna asked, eying the Starbucks cup Josh had reverently set before her.
"Nothing's wrong with it!" Josh said, edging it closer to her before taking a sip of his own and making a face like he'd just been told the Republicans were coming up from the Hill. "Well, except for the fact that it might possibly be the same coffee you brought me yesterday."
Firefly
Keep the Weapons Down, Keep the Wounded Safe
Prompt: Firefly, Jayne Cobb, saying goodbye to Vera
“C'mon, you can't just give up on her like that!” Jayne yelled, slamming his fist into the bulkhead so hard his knuckles near split and poor lil Kaylee flinched.
“Sometimes a thing can't be fixed,” she said, sad and soft in that way of hers, stroking Vera's cracked barrel. “But look at it this way, Jayne - least she died doin' what she loved,” and damned if that ain't true, even if it don't keep a tear or two from welling up in his eyes.
I'll Still Be There in the End
Prompt: Firefly, Mal/River, You could be my unintended/Choice to live my life extended
“I won't give up,” she tells him, all serious and soulful like, looking up at him like he's all the stars in her sky.
“Well, that's a mighty fine approach, darlin',” he tells her, caught in a narrow space between being the man he ought to be and the man he wants very much to be, “seein' as you ain't likely to get far if you do.”
When she tilts her head and smiles, he knows he's lost, sure and certain - has been ever since he freed her from that box, truth be told - even before she opens her mouth to say, “You remembered how not to give up because of me; only fair that I should return the favor.”
Laced With My Doubt
Prompt: Firefly, River/Mal, i wanna hold you high and steal your pain
It isn't right, the way his mind hums and catches, circling around old hurts and new wounds, fresh and wide; so much loss - home, mother, unit, friends, faith, crew.
“I won't go,” she says, trying to wrap herself around him, to map the valleys in his mind and fill them with herself, for however long he'll allow.
His mind shies from her, stubborn, like a wild horse, and she hears the thought before he can say it - I'll just lose you too, darlin' - and digs herself in harder, reminding him, “Can't lose what you haven't had,” and waits for his mind to remap, to show her the right path.
A Beautiful Trace
Prompt: Firefly, River/Mal, worship
“She's your altar,” River says, from the dim space back of him, her pale little hands coming out of nowhere to trace over his where they sit on Serenity's helm.
“Altars are meant for making offerings,” she says, settling herself into his lap without putting an inch of herself wrong, those hands of hers everywhere, plucking at his shirt, running through his hair, unbuckling his belt like she's done this a hundred times before, though Mal's damn sure he'd recall if she had.
“Just hold on,” she whispers, and he ain't one to question orders at a time like this, so he does, Serenity humming, smooth and comfortable, under his right hand, while River breathes, all live-wire flesh, under his left.
You Know My Way In
Prompt: Firefly, River/Mal, carrying her to bed
He's near halfway to the bunks when she stirs in his arms, all light bones and taut muscle like some kinda deadly bird, and says, “I'm not sleepy.”
“Wasn't hoping you were, darlin',” he says, not pausing a step, not even when she lifts her head from his shoulder, getting that pretty hair of hers all in his eyes, and says, “And this isn't the way to my room.”
“Know that too,” he says, finally coming to a stop outside the hatch of his bunk, “but unless you got any objections here...” and he don't have to be a reader to understand what it means when she reaches out to open the door for him.
Greek Mythology
Come for Me
Prompt: Greek mythology, Ariadne/Dionysus, don't be afraid
“Don't be afraid,” she says to him, laughing, before the battle begins.
As she lies dying, he says it in return, tears flowing like wine, like blood, over his face.
Even in the Underworld, she hears its echoes, and waits.
Baby, Don't You Worry
Prompt: Greek mythology, Artemis/Iphigenia, modern roommate AU shenanigans
“You're a lifesaver Art, you know that?” Iphigenia muttered into the vicinity of Artemis's collarbone, squeezing so hard she thought they both might break.
“Hey,” Artemis said, shifting enough to look her in the face, “so your jerkass dad cuts you off, that doesn't mean I'm going to let my girl end up out on the street. Of course,” she added, brushing her thumb over Iphigenia's lips and winking to make her laugh, “you might just have to work for me in other ways to pay that rent...”
Be On My Side Tonight
Prompt: Greek Mythology, Helen/Paris, this is a state of grace
“Were you ever truly happy here?” he asks on the eve of battle, when the clamor of the Greeks at the gates rises even to the level of the palace.
She feels his fingertips brushing her skin, and sees with dry, sleepless eyes the beloved lines of his face before her, and knows what he really means is were you ever truly happy with me?
She thinks of Sparta, and Menelaus, and escape; she thinks of trying to explain the difference between choosing and happiness, and finds they've grown too tangled inside her, and all she can say is, “I never dared to think we'd even get so far.”
Some Things Only She Knows
Prompt: Greek Mythology, Persephone & Psyche, why Persephone chose to give her a box of death/eternal sleep instead of beauty
The Goddess of the Underworld gazes long at her, and though her eyes are a warm shade of green, Psyche feels chilled to her marrow.
“No,” Persephone says finally, shifting on her great ebony throne, her slim bare feet flashing from beneath the hem of her dark robe, “I think you have had your fill of beauty, and both the prizes and trials it carries in its wake.”
When the box is handed to her, tiny and smooth and far too heavy for its size, Persephone gives her a smile all full of edges and promise, and says, “This is something you have not yet known, and one way or another, it will gain you what you seek, that I promise you.”
Keep Your Head Up, Love
Prompt: Greek mythology, Aeneas/Cassandra, when we were young/oh we did enough
At Hector's wedding, she dances the night away with suitors from far off lands, with her brothers, even with her father, coaxing old Priam down from his throne with smiles and eager, outstretched hands.
Aeneas she ignores, leaving him to glower over his fine wine amidst the wreckage of the banquet tables, until the night begins to lengthen towards the sun's rising, and the groom and his bride have long been hauled away.
He is just beginning to doze when her hands tickle beneath his tunic, the wildflower scent of her hair bringing him out of sleep with a jerk as her laughing voice murmurs in his ear, “See, you do care, friend Aeneas; you cannot pretend indifference much longer.”
Historical RPF
No One Can Call You Bad
Prompt: Medieval/Modern History, Queen Anne (of Bohemia, Neville, Boleyn, Stuart, or any other) lives; things change.
“You would have made a fine Queen, my love,” Anne whispers, squeezing her daughter's arm, as the coronation revels of King Henry IX spin on around them. “I know it would be so.”
“Why, I will be a fine Queen yet, mother,” Elizabeth says, smiling and narrowing her lively eyes at the cluster of ambassadors across the floor, “just as fine a Queen as you.”
Two Can Play
Prompt: Medieval History, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Berengaria of Navarre, I think we shall get along quite well
“Well, my dear,” Eleanor says, crisp as the winter air that seems to have followed her, “I have journeyed all the way over the mountains to retrieve you, and you had best prove worth the effort.”
Berengaria studies her, this fine old Queen, still proud, still with a steel-stiff spine, lively eyes, and red in her cheeks, and says, “But Your Grace, I am certain I could never provide half so much entertainment as your trip has so clearly already given you, nor cause for such excellent stories.”
Eleanor studies her sidelong for a moment, and she is glad for the concealment of her skirts to hide her shaking hands, but just as she is about to break, a miracle - her mother-in-law to be smiles, and says, “Oh, there will be time yet to see about that, my girl,” and Berengaria breathes once more, and sends up a little prayer of thanks to an especially benevolent God.
As Someone You Don't Want to Be
Prompt: History RPF, Anne Neville, let it always be known/that I was who I am
“They will know you've betrayed them,” Edward says spitefully, when he can coax no other reaction from her, “your precious York cousins. I wonder, will they think you sold yourself gratefully for a crown?”
No, she wants to say (well, truly she wants to shove her sewing needle through his eye, but that is an impulse she will resist), no, they will not, although really, in her head, it is he will not, because only one of them really matters; only Richard truly knows who she once was, and remains still.
Almost Brave
Prompt: English History, Richard III/Anne Neville, I’ll be home before you know it/I’ll be home before you know I’m gone
“It is nothing, Anne,” he says, smiling, the first time they are parted after being wed. “I will be back before you've had so much as a chance to miss me, I swear it.”
She lets him go, with a scandalous kiss before the entire household and a tremulous smile of her own, but something twists painfully inside her, making it difficult to breathe; something that says, already we have been parted too long, and all the days of our lives remaining spent together would fail to make up for it, but she is a good wife, and a lady besides, so she stills the unrest within her and instead retreats, to wait.
Chronicles of Narnia
How I've Done Myself In
Prompt: Narnia, Edmund, dark and oh so mysterious
“I do believe she's in love with you,” Susan said, peering around the corner into the ballroom, where the Duke's daughter appeared to be searching high and low for a man who'd exited some time ago.
Edmund let his head fall back against the wall with an audible thunk, saying, “Why does this always seem to happen to me?”
Susan grinned, watching as her brother sighed, blowing back the stubborn hair that would always flop into his eyes, and said, “Because, dear brother, when you stand about glowering over your wineglass all evening, the ladies assume it is because you have some deep dark pain that only they can cure, not because you are a terrible dancer - and also, it might help if you were to trim your hair.”
Long to Know
Prompt: Narnia, Peter/Lucy, she loves him like the stars
“You're my best brother,” she murmurs, damp with rain and drowsy with wine, as he lays her carefully into her bed, “do you know that?”
“For certain definitions of 'best,' Lu, of course I do,” Peter says, and smiles, and she wants to tell him something very important, something about how the raindrops caught in his hair and beard shine like little stars.
It all goes out of her mind in a second, though, when he laughs low in his throat and swipes his thumb across her mouth, coming away with a dark bead of wine; she watches him suck it from his thumb and closes her eyes as he says goodnight, so she won't have to watch his stars take their leave, their light dimming out, even as wine and memory churn in her stomach, leaving her sleepless.
In Love With All the World
Prompt: Narnia, Lucy/Peter, the bittersweet between my teeth
“And you didn't like it, not even a little bit?” Peter asks, slicing into an apple, the movement of his hands competent and sure.
Lucy shakes her head, watching the way the trees play with the light, how the shadows shift over him and crown him with sunshine, and says, “No, it was too...well, too furry, I suppose!”
“Don't worry, Lu,” Peter says, with a lopsided grin that strikes her as quite wicked, “I'm sure your second kiss will be an improvement, so long as you don't choose another faun,” and when he feeds her a slice of apple, Lucy takes it between her teeth, and wonders if it tastes just a little of him, all red and white and sweet.
Just Out of Your Reach
Prompt: Narnia, Susan/Edmund, Oh, if I could go back in time when you only held me/in my mind just a longing gone without a trace
“You look beautiful, Susan,” he says soft, while she pushes the final hairpin into place, while she smooths down her dress and twists in the mirror, admiring the lines of her body.
“Zip, please,” she commands, turning her back to him, and if she notices the way his fingers linger at the nape of her neck, she doesn't mention it, any more than he does her quick intake of breath, the way she goes rigid for a second before relaxing once more into fluid movement.
“Don't wait up for me,” she says, and then, “Oh, Ed,” pausing to lay a hand to his cheek, and he wonders what he gave away, as she walks through the door; his hatred of England, of being fifteen, of the chasm between them, they who had once been too close for comfort.
No Matter How We Try, We Are Not Afraid
Prompt: Narnia, Susan/Edmund, And can you kneel before the king/And say I'm clean, I'm clean
“Do you think Peter knows?” Edmund asks, tracing circles over the skin of her shoulder in the darkness.
“Of course he knows,” Susan says, and even with the candles put out, even with her eyes closed, she knows the furrow between Ed's brows, the way his mouth will frown in abstraction.
“We're both traitors now,” she whispers, and pulls him down with her, using her fingers, her lips, every bit of fierce love burning bright within her, to soothe him; to warm him through, until both of them manage to forget.
With Dreaming Comes the Flight
Prompt: Narnia, any, the morning after [Susan/Edmund, with Lucy/Peter, following a fill here about Narnian fertility rituals]
One of the best properties of Bacchus' wonderful wine is that it leaves no hangovers; still, when Edmund wakes in the green of the long Narnian grass to leafy fingers tangled in his hair and a rather furry arm thrown across his face, he does have a moment or two of disgruntlement at not being in his own proper bed.
But then he sees Susan's face, inches from his, and for a moment his heart trips over, full of remembrance of things sworn and things done, all in the sight of Aslan and the more adventurous factions of Narnia.
She just smiles though, and lays a finger across his lips; beyond the fur covering his ear, there's a rustling, and Lucy's voice, saying wonderingly, “Is it always like this, Peter?” and their brother's voice, in a softer timbre than he's heard in years, answering, “It's never been quite like this, Lu - but I think maybe it ought to have been.”
The Morning On Your Skin
Prompt: Narnia, Susan/Edmund, Tashbaan has its good points
“This city isn't all bad,” he says, leaving an icy trail down Susan's sweat-slicked skin, fingers trailing over her throat, her collarbone, her shoulders, before dipping lower, watching goosebumps rise along his path. “These iced confections they have, for example, do come in quite handy.”
“It is still hot enough to melt,” she complains, though her words end in a gasp as Edmund finds fresh ice, and lowers himself beside her to whisper, “No, that is all you, Su.”
With No Secrets
Prompt: Narnia, Edmund/Susan, Djinn [companion fills can be found here]
“What would you have wished for?” Edmund asks, the last glint of the lamp disappearing beneath the white-hot Calormene sands.
“I don't know,” Susan says thoughtfully, slipping her hand into his, “as I think I already have everything I want.”
“Well, I know what I'd have wished,” Edmund says, and leans close to whisper in her ear; when Susan's cheeks flush pink, the desert sun is not the cause, though her voice is level enough as she swallows and says, “I think that might be arranged, Ed, if you are both very lucky and very good.”
Narnia/LOTR crossovers
So, this whole crazy idea originated with rthstewart and starbrowsings, and I only jumped in after I saw how much fun they were having. Starbrowings gathered most of the Peter/Eowyn fills here if you're interested in further reading, which I highly encourage.
Take My Word
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia; Lucy, the Ents, "We have lost the Entwives"
“Have you tried looking for them?” Lucy asks, and the ents sigh and hoom and hom and admit to giving up once they realized they had no idea of where to begin a search; she would be quite frustrated with them if they weren't so very adorable, if giants in the form of trees could be called such.
“I think I may have an idea of where to look,” she says, thinking of the lithe, long-limbed dryads, with their laughing faces and dancing leaves, “but you must be willing to undertake a journey with me.”
She's not surprised when the one called Quickbeam steps forward, his branches nearly quivering with excitement, to volunteer, and as they set off, she leans down from her perch to tell him, “The ladies will love you, I'm quite sure of it.”
Your Dreams Are the Same as Mine
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Lucy and Aragorn, their hands can heal, their hands can bruise
“Let me just get my cordial,” Lucy says, as Aragorn commands, “Fetch me the athelas.”
“Mine is really more magical,” she insists, laughing, “and takes effect more quickly.”
“Yes, my lady,” he answers, taking her sprained wrist gently between his palms, running his king's fingers along her lifeline, “but as I caused the injury, I feel I must be the one to repair it,” and Lucy finds she has neither the heart nor the breath to object.
Hold Me When I Turn My Back
Prompt: [in response to the previous fill, asking how Lucy had come to be injured]
“See,” she says, darting inside Aragorn's guard, made easier by the fact that he's so very much taller than she, “then you reverse the grip like so and slash upwards, and-”
It's possible she cries out then, because though he may be much larger than she, his reactions are not slowed in the least, and her wrist suddenly aches with a terrible fire.
“Have I wounded you, my lady?” he asks, urgently, and when she looks up from her injury (and ceases muttering Narnian curses, to be honest), she finds he's gone to his knees before her, reaching for her injured hand, and is making such eloquent apologies that she can't help but smile, even through the pain.
I Always Will
Prompt: Narnia/LotR, Lucy/Aragorn/Arwen, forgotten lands calling them home
They both feel the pull, Lucy knows, every time she meets Arwen's clear grey eyes over Aragorn's back.
The East calls to her, Aslan's insistent growl humming low in the back of her mind, while Arwen's eyes turn often to the West, to the shores of the sea that calls to her with the voice of seabirds and family and home.
But always, it is Aragorn who turns them back, who lays his King's hands to either side of their faces, whose grave dark eyes hold a private sparkle just for them, a promise they know full well he will fulfill; and so they stay, and seek out one another's hands in the darkness as he sleeps, binding each other across the altar of his body.
I Behold Your Power
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Peter/Eowyn, watching him in the armoury
When she follows the sound of his voice, ringing out even over the singing of hammers and the constant hum of the bellows, she finds him standing in the midst of the armory, bathed in the glow of the nearby smithy furnace.
“Too long in the arms,” Peter says, shucking the mail shirt off his back and reaching for the next offering; she tries, unsuccessfully, not to admire too closely the lines of his back through the linen tunic plastered to his skin, nor the way his shoulders bunch and roll as he tries the next piece.
“Too small,” he decides, almost as soon as it hits those lovely shoulders, then gasps in pain as his squires seek to tug it off; fortunately for Peter, she steps forth from the shadows to disentangle his hair from the links with gentle fingers, and smiles, saying, “Fear not, my lord, for I am here to rescue you.”
Courage, Teach Me To Be Shy
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Peter/Eowyn, the first time armour is removed
She hisses in sympathy at the long scrape on his bicep, and it is purely altruism (yes, altruism) that leads her to aid in the removal of his undertunic, silently marveling at each inch of broad chest revealed, at the scattering of golden hair catching the soft light.
When he clears his throat, something about it sounds distinctly amused, and she looks up to see him grinning down at her, saying, “I believe it's your turn now, my lady.”
“So let me play the squire,” he says softly, his breath warm against her ear; his hands make quick work of all her buckles and laces and bindings, soothing away scrapes and grooves in her tender skin as he goes, until she stands as bare as he, and the look in his eyes is enough to cloak her in glory.
Part II
“Will you say naught, sire?” she asks, standing tall and proud as steel, even as her skin breaks out in prickles, though whether from the cold air or the force of his gaze, she could not say. “A shieldmaiden I may be, but I have no hidden edges to cut you, I promise.”
“It is not that,” he says, and his hands raise to lift the curtain of her hair away, letting it fall behind her shoulders; she tilts her face to him as a flower to the sun, and he sounds as though his breath is stolen when he says, “Truly, I haven't the words to describe such beauty.”
Hidden
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Peter/Eowyn, tent walls are thin
Peter has scarce left the confines of his tent when a mailed hand slaps him across the back, nearly upsetting his balance, as Eomer cheerfully bellows into his ear, “I hope your sleep was a restful one, as the rest of us could hardly get in a wink with that racket coming from your quarters!”
Thanking Aslan that he's never been one to blush, Peter smiles with ease and responds, “Truly, the women of Rohan are a delight to behold,” ushering his new friend out of the area as quickly as possible.
“Speaking of shieldmaidens, we must find my sister, who gets up and about far too early for me,” Eomer says; inside the tent, Eowyn listens to her brother's voice fade into the distance and breathes a giddy sigh of relief into the furs of Peter's bed.
Sought
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Peter/Eowyn, making it up to her.
“The wine is a thoughtful gesture,” Eowyn says, stretched out once more in Peter's furs, eying him over the goblet's rim, “but not nearly enough, I think, to make up for your transgressions, which were quite severe.”
“It was remiss of me to keep you so late as to court discovery,” Peter agrees, taking one of her slim feet in his hand, pressing his lips to its arch. “So I will endeavor to make it up to you, inch by inch,” he says, his hands tracing a path up her firelight-limned skin, his lips trailing just behind, over powerful calves and taut thighs, until his goal is reached and the remains of the wine spill unheeded to the floor.
The Loneliness You Have Lost
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Susan/Maglor, the first meeting
It's like a splash of cold seawater to her system, laying eyes on him for the first time; years have passed since she last saw something not quite of this world, but her senses have not forgotten, though her heart may have hardened.
“You're not human,” she says, sharper than she meant because she no longer has the grace to blunt her meanings, and he turns his eyes on her, sharper by far than her words, distant points of light that pierce her straight through.
“Neither are you,” he says, and his smile might be feral, still not quite human, but to Susan it's recognition; something familiar, and approaching holy.
Decisions in the Moment
Prompt: ASOIAF/Game of Thrones, Lyanna & Rhaegar, first meeting
She's half out of Benjen's armor when he finds her, scrabbling desperately at buckles and laces and a thousand intricate bits that had never seemed quite so confounding when she played squire for her brothers in Winterfell's training yard.
“Do you require assistance, my lady?” he says from behind her, and she spins (a vambrace falling to the ground with a clatter as she does) to find him standing there, all nonchalant, tracing the lines of the laughing tree on her shield with one long, elegant finger.
“For I would give it to you, gladly,” Rhaegar says, soft in the hush of the clearing, his eyes meeting hers with no threat, no challenge, and so she grins (baring her teeth), and says, “It is kind of you to offer, Your Grace, but I believe I have shown - assistance is not a thing I have need of.”
Like the Sun Eclipsed
Prompt: ASoIaF/Narnia, Lucy/Melisandre, the night is dark and full of terrors
“Terrors can walk abroad in the day too,” Lucy says doubtfully, eying up this strange woman, with her too-red hair and too-pale skin.
“But the light will vanquish them, day or night, no?” Melisandre says, the great ruby at her throat pulsing as she leans in close to Lucy.
“And a champion of the light cannot hide from my eyes,” she says, and her fingers brush across Lucy's cheek, impossibly warm, though Lucy shivers still.
Never Say Too Much
Prompt: Being Human, George/Mitchell, the fingerless gloves.
“You never take those off, do you?” George asks, staring at the gloves on Mitchell's hands, which by all rights ought to be grubby and smell like something evil (they'd smell like dog if George wore them, he just knows it), but instead always seem just as good as new, like Mitchell himself.
“I do, when it's appropriate,” Mitchell says, and George finds himself stuttering, “Oh, and when would that be?” before he's even got the chance to properly think it through, but Mitchell just smirks and sips his beer.
“Wouldn't you like to know.”
Help Me Love
Prompt: The Good Wife, Will, this is the happiest he's ever been
The first time, he's six years old when his dad takes him to his first game at Wrigley Field, and a foul ball goes sailing overhead, so close he can almost taste the dirt off the mound.
The second time, he's twenty-something, fresh out of law school, hungry, eager and still kind of gangly in a suit that's too big, piling on the questions in his first cross until wham - he catches the witness out, gets a nod from the judge, and saunters back to his chair feeling ten feet tall.
The third time, Alicia rolls under the sheets with him, throwing her head back with that throaty laugh she's got, the warm light catching the lines around her eyes, and he knows - this time, there's no way he can ever get any happier.
I've Got a Plan
Prompt: Hark! A Vagrant. Pirate/Nemesis, this ship is named Consummation.
“I do believe that man is taunting me,” the Captain said, snapping shut his spyglass, the navy wool of his coat straining 'round his broad shoulders.
In the distance, the bold letters painted on the pirate ship's noble prow glittered with the water's reflected light, and the Captain narrowed his bright blue eyes and said, “Lieutenant, set a course to follow that ship - she'll be making for port soon, unless I miss my guess.”
Silence reigned on the deck of the Consummation, until her Captain coughed and scratched at his beard, saying, “Least, that's what I assume's going through his mind, mateys - now make for harbor, afore I flog the skins from the lot of you!”
Don't Look Down
Prompt: inception | cobb/ariadne | i threw my hands in the air and said show me something, he said if you dare, come a little closer
“Come on,” he says from the elevator, holding out his hand, but she remembers this, she remembers what happened the last time, even if that was in a twisted dreamscape built of old memories and this is reality, solid and clean; she resists the urge to check, to reach into her pocket and wrap her fingers around her totem, even as they curl into a fist with wanting to.
Cobb notices - of course he notices, everything is details built on details to him - and steps forward, one hand on the doors, to say, “Ariadne, don't you want to create something new?”
She does; even though she knows the ground will drop out from under her feet, at least they'll be falling together.
To Guide You Through
Prompt: inception, ariadne, i was born with fire in my blood
“Little Ariadne,” Eames chuckles, after her temper has once again flared up at poor Arthur, “so full of fire, our girl.”
If you only knew what I've seen in dreams, she thinks, and don't you know who I'm named for?
She knows they're all just waiting, these men of hers, even if they don't; waiting for her to unwind the thread and give it a spark.
I Want Only to Haunt You
Prompt: Luther: Alice Morgan - I always wanted to be a widow...
When it's time to create herself anew, she chooses carefully in the shops - sleek dresses of fine black wool, smart hats and shoes to match, a coat with just enough flair.
The ring, of course, had belonged to her mother, and she feels it's only appropriate, twisting it around her finger, holding out her hand to John to show it off.
“Does being a widow suit me, do you think?” she asks, and sees the question in his eyes, as resigned to her as ever - What've you done this time, Alice? - so she just laughs and turns away, the white lining of her coat flashing as she goes.
Keep Hanging On
Prompt: Mythology/Avengers: Loki tries to cut off Sif's hair.
“I thought you wanted me to help with this,” he says as she wriggles about, wrapping his fist in the length of Sif's hair, tugging just enough to let her feel the potential, the control in it. “Of course, you could ask Thor or one of your other oafish warrior companions, but you'll like as not end up minus an ear rather than your hair.”
She tips her head back to look at him, at the knife gleaming in his hand, at the tension between them, so close to being sliced through, and says, “I've changed my mind - I'll keep it, and prove I am above such liabilities,” and he laughs and releases her for now, her hair falling through his fingers like chance.
Say, What's in this Drink?
Prompt: Avengers, Steve/Darcy, baby, it's cold outside
“I really ought to be going,” Steve said, putting down his hot chocolate mug, and Darcy didn't think she'd be kidding herself if she thought he sounded just a teensy bit regretful.
“Sure, but, um - wait, it's really freaking cold out there, you'll freeze your balls off!” she blurted out, immediately cursing herself - way to go, Darcy, not only did you let him know you're thinking about his balls, but you just told a man who spent 70 years on ice that it's a little too cold out there for him, nice job.
“Well,” Steve said, smiling, looking from the snow blowing at the window back to the (she really freaking hoped) warm and totally friendly Darcy, “I suppose one more cocoa wouldn't hurt.”
Only One to Go
Prompt: Much Ado About Nothing, Beatrice/Benedick, in our last conflict four of his five wits went halting off
“Whatever happened to his fifth wit, cousin?” Hero asks later, and Beatrice finds once more that she can never be quite certain whether that look on Hero's face is true innocence or a mask to cover a sly wit of her own.
“Why, it resides in his breeches,” she says, “where all men consider their greatest wit to lie.”
“I am surprised you did not cause that wit to go halting off as well, for it seems most unlike you to leave such a task unfinished; perhaps you will be able to help him complete it shortly,” Hero says, and this time all the innocence in the world could not keep the corners of her mouth from twitching, nor Beatrice from lobbing a pillow at her head.
Living for the Present
Prompt: The Mummy series, Evelyn & Nefertiri, no harm ever came of researching your past self (or: Nefertiri might not have been clean-cut as Evie’s two-minute flashback conveyed)
“Would you happen to know anything about an ancient Egyptian princess named Nefertiri, who lived during the time of Imhotep?” she asks Ardeth, because really, historical sources on such ancient times are hard enough to come by to begin with, and when one's subject is a woman on top of all that, it becomes quite impossible to find anything at all through the normal channels.
“Yes, I know her story well,” he says, proving once more that a strong oral history tradition is worth its weight in gold, so far as she's concerned, “as she was the ruler who set the Magi to our task, and took their two leaders as her lovers to seal their pact.”
Somewhere behind her, she's dimly aware of Rick making a sound somewhere between laughter and choking, though she's far too busy jumping to her feet and exclaiming, “She did no such thing!” to pay him much attention.
Allowed to Be Brand New
Prompt: Sleepy Hollow (TV), Abbie Mills/Ichabod Crane, makeover montage
“Miss Mills, these trousers seem unaccountably stiff - have they been starched?” Crane asks, swiveling in front of the mirror while Abbie raises an eyebrow at him.
Okay, maybe it hadn't been pure altruism for her to take him shopping for new clothes, but damn, that man can fill out a pair of jeans - who's going to blame her if her eyes are wandering a bit?
“Don't think I've failed to notice what you're up to, Lieutenant,” he calls over his shoulder, walking back to the dressing room, “and I must say, it is most inappropriate for a lady,” but still, she's pretty sure that's a grin hiding under his voice.
Of Course It's Going to Get Better
Prompt: The West Wing, Josh/Donna, bringing each other coffee
"What's wrong with it?" Donna asked, eying the Starbucks cup Josh had reverently set before her.
"Nothing's wrong with it!" Josh said, edging it closer to her before taking a sip of his own and making a face like he'd just been told the Republicans were coming up from the Hill. "Well, except for the fact that it might possibly be the same coffee you brought me yesterday."
Firefly
Keep the Weapons Down, Keep the Wounded Safe
Prompt: Firefly, Jayne Cobb, saying goodbye to Vera
“C'mon, you can't just give up on her like that!” Jayne yelled, slamming his fist into the bulkhead so hard his knuckles near split and poor lil Kaylee flinched.
“Sometimes a thing can't be fixed,” she said, sad and soft in that way of hers, stroking Vera's cracked barrel. “But look at it this way, Jayne - least she died doin' what she loved,” and damned if that ain't true, even if it don't keep a tear or two from welling up in his eyes.
I'll Still Be There in the End
Prompt: Firefly, Mal/River, You could be my unintended/Choice to live my life extended
“I won't give up,” she tells him, all serious and soulful like, looking up at him like he's all the stars in her sky.
“Well, that's a mighty fine approach, darlin',” he tells her, caught in a narrow space between being the man he ought to be and the man he wants very much to be, “seein' as you ain't likely to get far if you do.”
When she tilts her head and smiles, he knows he's lost, sure and certain - has been ever since he freed her from that box, truth be told - even before she opens her mouth to say, “You remembered how not to give up because of me; only fair that I should return the favor.”
Laced With My Doubt
Prompt: Firefly, River/Mal, i wanna hold you high and steal your pain
It isn't right, the way his mind hums and catches, circling around old hurts and new wounds, fresh and wide; so much loss - home, mother, unit, friends, faith, crew.
“I won't go,” she says, trying to wrap herself around him, to map the valleys in his mind and fill them with herself, for however long he'll allow.
His mind shies from her, stubborn, like a wild horse, and she hears the thought before he can say it - I'll just lose you too, darlin' - and digs herself in harder, reminding him, “Can't lose what you haven't had,” and waits for his mind to remap, to show her the right path.
A Beautiful Trace
Prompt: Firefly, River/Mal, worship
“She's your altar,” River says, from the dim space back of him, her pale little hands coming out of nowhere to trace over his where they sit on Serenity's helm.
“Altars are meant for making offerings,” she says, settling herself into his lap without putting an inch of herself wrong, those hands of hers everywhere, plucking at his shirt, running through his hair, unbuckling his belt like she's done this a hundred times before, though Mal's damn sure he'd recall if she had.
“Just hold on,” she whispers, and he ain't one to question orders at a time like this, so he does, Serenity humming, smooth and comfortable, under his right hand, while River breathes, all live-wire flesh, under his left.
You Know My Way In
Prompt: Firefly, River/Mal, carrying her to bed
He's near halfway to the bunks when she stirs in his arms, all light bones and taut muscle like some kinda deadly bird, and says, “I'm not sleepy.”
“Wasn't hoping you were, darlin',” he says, not pausing a step, not even when she lifts her head from his shoulder, getting that pretty hair of hers all in his eyes, and says, “And this isn't the way to my room.”
“Know that too,” he says, finally coming to a stop outside the hatch of his bunk, “but unless you got any objections here...” and he don't have to be a reader to understand what it means when she reaches out to open the door for him.
Greek Mythology
Come for Me
Prompt: Greek mythology, Ariadne/Dionysus, don't be afraid
“Don't be afraid,” she says to him, laughing, before the battle begins.
As she lies dying, he says it in return, tears flowing like wine, like blood, over his face.
Even in the Underworld, she hears its echoes, and waits.
Baby, Don't You Worry
Prompt: Greek mythology, Artemis/Iphigenia, modern roommate AU shenanigans
“You're a lifesaver Art, you know that?” Iphigenia muttered into the vicinity of Artemis's collarbone, squeezing so hard she thought they both might break.
“Hey,” Artemis said, shifting enough to look her in the face, “so your jerkass dad cuts you off, that doesn't mean I'm going to let my girl end up out on the street. Of course,” she added, brushing her thumb over Iphigenia's lips and winking to make her laugh, “you might just have to work for me in other ways to pay that rent...”
Be On My Side Tonight
Prompt: Greek Mythology, Helen/Paris, this is a state of grace
“Were you ever truly happy here?” he asks on the eve of battle, when the clamor of the Greeks at the gates rises even to the level of the palace.
She feels his fingertips brushing her skin, and sees with dry, sleepless eyes the beloved lines of his face before her, and knows what he really means is were you ever truly happy with me?
She thinks of Sparta, and Menelaus, and escape; she thinks of trying to explain the difference between choosing and happiness, and finds they've grown too tangled inside her, and all she can say is, “I never dared to think we'd even get so far.”
Some Things Only She Knows
Prompt: Greek Mythology, Persephone & Psyche, why Persephone chose to give her a box of death/eternal sleep instead of beauty
The Goddess of the Underworld gazes long at her, and though her eyes are a warm shade of green, Psyche feels chilled to her marrow.
“No,” Persephone says finally, shifting on her great ebony throne, her slim bare feet flashing from beneath the hem of her dark robe, “I think you have had your fill of beauty, and both the prizes and trials it carries in its wake.”
When the box is handed to her, tiny and smooth and far too heavy for its size, Persephone gives her a smile all full of edges and promise, and says, “This is something you have not yet known, and one way or another, it will gain you what you seek, that I promise you.”
Keep Your Head Up, Love
Prompt: Greek mythology, Aeneas/Cassandra, when we were young/oh we did enough
At Hector's wedding, she dances the night away with suitors from far off lands, with her brothers, even with her father, coaxing old Priam down from his throne with smiles and eager, outstretched hands.
Aeneas she ignores, leaving him to glower over his fine wine amidst the wreckage of the banquet tables, until the night begins to lengthen towards the sun's rising, and the groom and his bride have long been hauled away.
He is just beginning to doze when her hands tickle beneath his tunic, the wildflower scent of her hair bringing him out of sleep with a jerk as her laughing voice murmurs in his ear, “See, you do care, friend Aeneas; you cannot pretend indifference much longer.”
Historical RPF
No One Can Call You Bad
Prompt: Medieval/Modern History, Queen Anne (of Bohemia, Neville, Boleyn, Stuart, or any other) lives; things change.
“You would have made a fine Queen, my love,” Anne whispers, squeezing her daughter's arm, as the coronation revels of King Henry IX spin on around them. “I know it would be so.”
“Why, I will be a fine Queen yet, mother,” Elizabeth says, smiling and narrowing her lively eyes at the cluster of ambassadors across the floor, “just as fine a Queen as you.”
Two Can Play
Prompt: Medieval History, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Berengaria of Navarre, I think we shall get along quite well
“Well, my dear,” Eleanor says, crisp as the winter air that seems to have followed her, “I have journeyed all the way over the mountains to retrieve you, and you had best prove worth the effort.”
Berengaria studies her, this fine old Queen, still proud, still with a steel-stiff spine, lively eyes, and red in her cheeks, and says, “But Your Grace, I am certain I could never provide half so much entertainment as your trip has so clearly already given you, nor cause for such excellent stories.”
Eleanor studies her sidelong for a moment, and she is glad for the concealment of her skirts to hide her shaking hands, but just as she is about to break, a miracle - her mother-in-law to be smiles, and says, “Oh, there will be time yet to see about that, my girl,” and Berengaria breathes once more, and sends up a little prayer of thanks to an especially benevolent God.
As Someone You Don't Want to Be
Prompt: History RPF, Anne Neville, let it always be known/that I was who I am
“They will know you've betrayed them,” Edward says spitefully, when he can coax no other reaction from her, “your precious York cousins. I wonder, will they think you sold yourself gratefully for a crown?”
No, she wants to say (well, truly she wants to shove her sewing needle through his eye, but that is an impulse she will resist), no, they will not, although really, in her head, it is he will not, because only one of them really matters; only Richard truly knows who she once was, and remains still.
Almost Brave
Prompt: English History, Richard III/Anne Neville, I’ll be home before you know it/I’ll be home before you know I’m gone
“It is nothing, Anne,” he says, smiling, the first time they are parted after being wed. “I will be back before you've had so much as a chance to miss me, I swear it.”
She lets him go, with a scandalous kiss before the entire household and a tremulous smile of her own, but something twists painfully inside her, making it difficult to breathe; something that says, already we have been parted too long, and all the days of our lives remaining spent together would fail to make up for it, but she is a good wife, and a lady besides, so she stills the unrest within her and instead retreats, to wait.
Chronicles of Narnia
How I've Done Myself In
Prompt: Narnia, Edmund, dark and oh so mysterious
“I do believe she's in love with you,” Susan said, peering around the corner into the ballroom, where the Duke's daughter appeared to be searching high and low for a man who'd exited some time ago.
Edmund let his head fall back against the wall with an audible thunk, saying, “Why does this always seem to happen to me?”
Susan grinned, watching as her brother sighed, blowing back the stubborn hair that would always flop into his eyes, and said, “Because, dear brother, when you stand about glowering over your wineglass all evening, the ladies assume it is because you have some deep dark pain that only they can cure, not because you are a terrible dancer - and also, it might help if you were to trim your hair.”
Long to Know
Prompt: Narnia, Peter/Lucy, she loves him like the stars
“You're my best brother,” she murmurs, damp with rain and drowsy with wine, as he lays her carefully into her bed, “do you know that?”
“For certain definitions of 'best,' Lu, of course I do,” Peter says, and smiles, and she wants to tell him something very important, something about how the raindrops caught in his hair and beard shine like little stars.
It all goes out of her mind in a second, though, when he laughs low in his throat and swipes his thumb across her mouth, coming away with a dark bead of wine; she watches him suck it from his thumb and closes her eyes as he says goodnight, so she won't have to watch his stars take their leave, their light dimming out, even as wine and memory churn in her stomach, leaving her sleepless.
In Love With All the World
Prompt: Narnia, Lucy/Peter, the bittersweet between my teeth
“And you didn't like it, not even a little bit?” Peter asks, slicing into an apple, the movement of his hands competent and sure.
Lucy shakes her head, watching the way the trees play with the light, how the shadows shift over him and crown him with sunshine, and says, “No, it was too...well, too furry, I suppose!”
“Don't worry, Lu,” Peter says, with a lopsided grin that strikes her as quite wicked, “I'm sure your second kiss will be an improvement, so long as you don't choose another faun,” and when he feeds her a slice of apple, Lucy takes it between her teeth, and wonders if it tastes just a little of him, all red and white and sweet.
Just Out of Your Reach
Prompt: Narnia, Susan/Edmund, Oh, if I could go back in time when you only held me/in my mind just a longing gone without a trace
“You look beautiful, Susan,” he says soft, while she pushes the final hairpin into place, while she smooths down her dress and twists in the mirror, admiring the lines of her body.
“Zip, please,” she commands, turning her back to him, and if she notices the way his fingers linger at the nape of her neck, she doesn't mention it, any more than he does her quick intake of breath, the way she goes rigid for a second before relaxing once more into fluid movement.
“Don't wait up for me,” she says, and then, “Oh, Ed,” pausing to lay a hand to his cheek, and he wonders what he gave away, as she walks through the door; his hatred of England, of being fifteen, of the chasm between them, they who had once been too close for comfort.
No Matter How We Try, We Are Not Afraid
Prompt: Narnia, Susan/Edmund, And can you kneel before the king/And say I'm clean, I'm clean
“Do you think Peter knows?” Edmund asks, tracing circles over the skin of her shoulder in the darkness.
“Of course he knows,” Susan says, and even with the candles put out, even with her eyes closed, she knows the furrow between Ed's brows, the way his mouth will frown in abstraction.
“We're both traitors now,” she whispers, and pulls him down with her, using her fingers, her lips, every bit of fierce love burning bright within her, to soothe him; to warm him through, until both of them manage to forget.
With Dreaming Comes the Flight
Prompt: Narnia, any, the morning after [Susan/Edmund, with Lucy/Peter, following a fill here about Narnian fertility rituals]
One of the best properties of Bacchus' wonderful wine is that it leaves no hangovers; still, when Edmund wakes in the green of the long Narnian grass to leafy fingers tangled in his hair and a rather furry arm thrown across his face, he does have a moment or two of disgruntlement at not being in his own proper bed.
But then he sees Susan's face, inches from his, and for a moment his heart trips over, full of remembrance of things sworn and things done, all in the sight of Aslan and the more adventurous factions of Narnia.
She just smiles though, and lays a finger across his lips; beyond the fur covering his ear, there's a rustling, and Lucy's voice, saying wonderingly, “Is it always like this, Peter?” and their brother's voice, in a softer timbre than he's heard in years, answering, “It's never been quite like this, Lu - but I think maybe it ought to have been.”
The Morning On Your Skin
Prompt: Narnia, Susan/Edmund, Tashbaan has its good points
“This city isn't all bad,” he says, leaving an icy trail down Susan's sweat-slicked skin, fingers trailing over her throat, her collarbone, her shoulders, before dipping lower, watching goosebumps rise along his path. “These iced confections they have, for example, do come in quite handy.”
“It is still hot enough to melt,” she complains, though her words end in a gasp as Edmund finds fresh ice, and lowers himself beside her to whisper, “No, that is all you, Su.”
With No Secrets
Prompt: Narnia, Edmund/Susan, Djinn [companion fills can be found here]
“What would you have wished for?” Edmund asks, the last glint of the lamp disappearing beneath the white-hot Calormene sands.
“I don't know,” Susan says thoughtfully, slipping her hand into his, “as I think I already have everything I want.”
“Well, I know what I'd have wished,” Edmund says, and leans close to whisper in her ear; when Susan's cheeks flush pink, the desert sun is not the cause, though her voice is level enough as she swallows and says, “I think that might be arranged, Ed, if you are both very lucky and very good.”
Narnia/LOTR crossovers
So, this whole crazy idea originated with rthstewart and starbrowsings, and I only jumped in after I saw how much fun they were having. Starbrowings gathered most of the Peter/Eowyn fills here if you're interested in further reading, which I highly encourage.
Take My Word
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia; Lucy, the Ents, "We have lost the Entwives"
“Have you tried looking for them?” Lucy asks, and the ents sigh and hoom and hom and admit to giving up once they realized they had no idea of where to begin a search; she would be quite frustrated with them if they weren't so very adorable, if giants in the form of trees could be called such.
“I think I may have an idea of where to look,” she says, thinking of the lithe, long-limbed dryads, with their laughing faces and dancing leaves, “but you must be willing to undertake a journey with me.”
She's not surprised when the one called Quickbeam steps forward, his branches nearly quivering with excitement, to volunteer, and as they set off, she leans down from her perch to tell him, “The ladies will love you, I'm quite sure of it.”
Your Dreams Are the Same as Mine
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Lucy and Aragorn, their hands can heal, their hands can bruise
“Let me just get my cordial,” Lucy says, as Aragorn commands, “Fetch me the athelas.”
“Mine is really more magical,” she insists, laughing, “and takes effect more quickly.”
“Yes, my lady,” he answers, taking her sprained wrist gently between his palms, running his king's fingers along her lifeline, “but as I caused the injury, I feel I must be the one to repair it,” and Lucy finds she has neither the heart nor the breath to object.
Hold Me When I Turn My Back
Prompt: [in response to the previous fill, asking how Lucy had come to be injured]
“See,” she says, darting inside Aragorn's guard, made easier by the fact that he's so very much taller than she, “then you reverse the grip like so and slash upwards, and-”
It's possible she cries out then, because though he may be much larger than she, his reactions are not slowed in the least, and her wrist suddenly aches with a terrible fire.
“Have I wounded you, my lady?” he asks, urgently, and when she looks up from her injury (and ceases muttering Narnian curses, to be honest), she finds he's gone to his knees before her, reaching for her injured hand, and is making such eloquent apologies that she can't help but smile, even through the pain.
I Always Will
Prompt: Narnia/LotR, Lucy/Aragorn/Arwen, forgotten lands calling them home
They both feel the pull, Lucy knows, every time she meets Arwen's clear grey eyes over Aragorn's back.
The East calls to her, Aslan's insistent growl humming low in the back of her mind, while Arwen's eyes turn often to the West, to the shores of the sea that calls to her with the voice of seabirds and family and home.
But always, it is Aragorn who turns them back, who lays his King's hands to either side of their faces, whose grave dark eyes hold a private sparkle just for them, a promise they know full well he will fulfill; and so they stay, and seek out one another's hands in the darkness as he sleeps, binding each other across the altar of his body.
I Behold Your Power
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Peter/Eowyn, watching him in the armoury
When she follows the sound of his voice, ringing out even over the singing of hammers and the constant hum of the bellows, she finds him standing in the midst of the armory, bathed in the glow of the nearby smithy furnace.
“Too long in the arms,” Peter says, shucking the mail shirt off his back and reaching for the next offering; she tries, unsuccessfully, not to admire too closely the lines of his back through the linen tunic plastered to his skin, nor the way his shoulders bunch and roll as he tries the next piece.
“Too small,” he decides, almost as soon as it hits those lovely shoulders, then gasps in pain as his squires seek to tug it off; fortunately for Peter, she steps forth from the shadows to disentangle his hair from the links with gentle fingers, and smiles, saying, “Fear not, my lord, for I am here to rescue you.”
Courage, Teach Me To Be Shy
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Peter/Eowyn, the first time armour is removed
She hisses in sympathy at the long scrape on his bicep, and it is purely altruism (yes, altruism) that leads her to aid in the removal of his undertunic, silently marveling at each inch of broad chest revealed, at the scattering of golden hair catching the soft light.
When he clears his throat, something about it sounds distinctly amused, and she looks up to see him grinning down at her, saying, “I believe it's your turn now, my lady.”
“So let me play the squire,” he says softly, his breath warm against her ear; his hands make quick work of all her buckles and laces and bindings, soothing away scrapes and grooves in her tender skin as he goes, until she stands as bare as he, and the look in his eyes is enough to cloak her in glory.
Part II
“Will you say naught, sire?” she asks, standing tall and proud as steel, even as her skin breaks out in prickles, though whether from the cold air or the force of his gaze, she could not say. “A shieldmaiden I may be, but I have no hidden edges to cut you, I promise.”
“It is not that,” he says, and his hands raise to lift the curtain of her hair away, letting it fall behind her shoulders; she tilts her face to him as a flower to the sun, and he sounds as though his breath is stolen when he says, “Truly, I haven't the words to describe such beauty.”
Hidden
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Peter/Eowyn, tent walls are thin
Peter has scarce left the confines of his tent when a mailed hand slaps him across the back, nearly upsetting his balance, as Eomer cheerfully bellows into his ear, “I hope your sleep was a restful one, as the rest of us could hardly get in a wink with that racket coming from your quarters!”
Thanking Aslan that he's never been one to blush, Peter smiles with ease and responds, “Truly, the women of Rohan are a delight to behold,” ushering his new friend out of the area as quickly as possible.
“Speaking of shieldmaidens, we must find my sister, who gets up and about far too early for me,” Eomer says; inside the tent, Eowyn listens to her brother's voice fade into the distance and breathes a giddy sigh of relief into the furs of Peter's bed.
Sought
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Peter/Eowyn, making it up to her.
“The wine is a thoughtful gesture,” Eowyn says, stretched out once more in Peter's furs, eying him over the goblet's rim, “but not nearly enough, I think, to make up for your transgressions, which were quite severe.”
“It was remiss of me to keep you so late as to court discovery,” Peter agrees, taking one of her slim feet in his hand, pressing his lips to its arch. “So I will endeavor to make it up to you, inch by inch,” he says, his hands tracing a path up her firelight-limned skin, his lips trailing just behind, over powerful calves and taut thighs, until his goal is reached and the remains of the wine spill unheeded to the floor.
The Loneliness You Have Lost
Prompt: LOTR/Narnia, Susan/Maglor, the first meeting
It's like a splash of cold seawater to her system, laying eyes on him for the first time; years have passed since she last saw something not quite of this world, but her senses have not forgotten, though her heart may have hardened.
“You're not human,” she says, sharper than she meant because she no longer has the grace to blunt her meanings, and he turns his eyes on her, sharper by far than her words, distant points of light that pierce her straight through.
“Neither are you,” he says, and his smile might be feral, still not quite human, but to Susan it's recognition; something familiar, and approaching holy.