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alexspotatoes · 2 years ago

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Kissmas Day 6

Prompt: A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

Pairing: Edmund x Reader

A/N: Finally, finally this one is done! Apparently I can't write any Narnia fic without going way overboard. Also be forewarned this one is a little spicy, but still PG-13/T so it keeps within my boundaries for this series. If you want to know how explicit I'm willing to get for Narnia characters specifically this is a pretty good benchmark. Anyway, enjoy!

When Edmund invited you to spar with him, you were immediately suspicious.

“Why on earth would I need to learn swordplay?” you asked, standing up on your tiptoes and gently pressing your lips to his “I’ve got the best swordsman in Narnia to look after me”

A blush rose across Edmund’s cheeks, a pretty red canvas for those freckles he never quite outgrew. You resisted the urge to grab hold of his face and cover it with kisses, putting your own mark between the constellations already dappling his skin.

“You’re very sweet,” your betrothed replied, glancing quickly at Abelia, the grumpy she-badger who was serving as your chaperone, before sliding his arms around your waist “And very right. But what if there comes a time when I’m not around?”

“Then I’ll just go find Peter,” you said, chuckling at the way Edmund’s nose scrunched in annoyance “Even if he’s only second best, he can at least provide a nice diversion while I make my escape”

The smack of his hand against your arse came so quickly, there was little chance of Abelia noticing. A sidelong glance at the talking badger confirmed this fact. She hadn’t even so much as looked up from her drop spindle, far more concerned with crafting an even thread than minding the two of you.

Emboldened, Edmund ducked his head and stole another kiss. This was far less chaste than the one you had given him moments before, threading his fingers through your hair to deepen it and brushing his tongue over the seam of your lips.

You tried to muffle a moan and almost failed. It was all you could do to keep upright as Edmund continued to lavish your mouth with affection, going as far as to tug at your bottom lip with his teeth before breaking the kiss and gently tilting your head to the side so he could whisper in your ear.

“Listen here cheeky girl,” he kept his voice soft, but there was a stern edge to it that nearly had you squirming “I’ve booked the training pitch for us, and I’ve been promised we’ll have at least an hour alone. No Abelia, no Tumnus. All you have to do is meet me there tomorrow, okay?

You looked up at Edmund with wide, hopeful eyes. Alone? The promise hung between you, almost like a magic spell. It sounded too good to be true.

You’d known Edmund since he’d first came to Narnia, when he was ten and you were eight. You’d loved each other in the way only children can, squabbling over card games and rounds of chess, falling asleep together by the fireside after reading on long winter nights.

At sixteen and fourteen, you’d been betrothed. Since then you could count on one hand the number of times you’d been alone, as though you hadn’t been playing at kissing and going for twilight swims only a few years before.

Reputation didn’t matter so much to Edmund’s siblings, you had been around so long they already considered you part of the family, marriage or not. Your family, on the other hand, was a different story. You were their only daughter, and being such a small household from Archenland, there was a lot riding on this marriage. So until the day of the wedding, you had to keep up appearances.

The sound of Abelia clearing her throat shook you from your reminiscing. You glanced over at the she-badger, who had set aside her drop spindle and was now making a “move apart” gesture with her claws. With a sigh, you did as you were asked, pausing to give Edmund one last kiss on the cheek before turning and gesturing to the nearby couch.

“Shall we sit? Perhaps play a game?”

Edmund nodded, bringing up a hand and running a finger nervously under his collar before he sat next to you. It was hard to tell in the rosy glow of the firelight whether or not his blush had gotten deeper, though you could certainly feel a kind of flame on your own cheeks.

Satisfied that her charges were once again behaving themselves, Abeila took up her spindle and began to wind the thread with practised ease.

“Only half an hour longer, my lady,” she warned, her voice growly by nature rather than intent “Your lady mother wants to sup with you this evening.”

“Yes Abelia.”

Under the table, you could feel Edmund’s hand brush your knee as you began setting up the board for checkers. You glanced over, and were pleased to see the usual mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Tomorrow” he whispered, giving you a small smile, which you returned.

Tomorrow.

***

It was high noon by the time you set off towards the training pitch. The sun was at its zenith, shining brightly over a cold, clear day. There was not a cloud in the sky, save for the ones made by your breath as you walked.

Even dressed in layers as you were, you still felt exposed. You’d borrowed a set of training garb from Lucy, which consisted of a linen shirt, leather jerkin and matching trousers. While you appreciated her generosity, they were a far cry from your usual gowns and petticoats.

You were well aware of the fact that the outline of your legs, thighs, and hips were all prominently on display in the snug breeches. Already, you’d garnered some stares from passing stable boys and squires going about their daily chores. The feeling of their eyes on you sent an anticipatory thrill down your spine. Whether Edmund had asked you to dress this way for function or his own benefit, you couldn’t say, but you were certainly eager to find out.

The training grounds were, surprisingly, empty when you arrived. Save for a few sparrows pecking about the grass, there was not another living soul to be seen. You stood on the dirt track circling the field, listening to the wind buffet the trees and the occasional birdsong while you nibbled at your bottom lip.

Surely you had heard Edmund correctly? The training pitch, tomorrow. That’s what he had said, you were certain of it. And yet here you were, without any sign of Edmund. Perhaps he had been called away and hadn’t had a chance to send notice. Or maybe Abelia or Tumnus had caught him trying to sneak off and he was attempting to explain himself without drawing suspicion to you. Or perhaps Peter had needed him to-

“First rule of sword fighting. Always be aware of your surroundings.”

Your shriek rang out, high and sudden, scaring the nearby sparrows into flight. How Edmund had managed to sneak up on you, in full plate armour no less, would forever remain a mystery. Solving said mystery, however, was far less of a concern to you than trying to connect the toe of your boot to Edmund’s shins.

“What’s the matter with you?! You scared the living daylights out of me!”

Edmund didn’t seem the least bit concerned by your admonishing, laughing and dancing away from your volley of kicks with an easy confidence. His bright eyes and wide smile made you forgive him almost instantly, letting yourself be caught when he reached to put his hands about your waist.

You stood on tiptoe and kissed him, open mouthed and unashamed. Edmund responded in kind, allowing his hands to freely roam along your body now that you were no longer under Abelia’s watchful eye.

The thick metal of his armour made it difficult for you to do the same, so you chose instead to use one hand to cradle his jaw while you brought the other up to twine in his hair. You could taste the tea he’d recently drunk on his breath, a blend of cinnamon, cardamom and ginger from Calmore you knew he favoured. A soft moan escaped your lips as Edmund grabbed a handful of your bottom, squeezing it none too gently. You pressed your body against his, hoping he could feel your warmth and eagerness through his armour, silently imploring for more.

When Edmund finally broke the kiss, you whined, which made him laugh again. You watched as he gathered up a pair of swords from the grass nearby, more than a little confused. Initially, you assumed that the remark about him teaching you swordplay was nothing more than a ruse, to mask his true plan from Abelia and anyone else who may question your intentions for that afternoon. Did he truly wish to put a sword in your hand?

“Come on, you needy thing” he said as he tossed a sword to you, hilt end down. You managed to catch it, albeit a little clumsily “I said I was going to teach you how to fight, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word”

The sword felt strange in your hand, and you held it at length from your body as though you were afraid of what would happen if you brought it too close. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your arm from trembling slightly, which almost ousted the weapon from your grasp.

Edmund watched you for a moment, before finally driving the tip of his own sword into the dirt and closing the distance between you two.

“Second rule of sword fighting,” he announced, his voice cheerful and relaxed “Know how to hold your weapon properly”

He reached out and closed his hand around your own. Despite his armour, he had opted not to wear gloves, and you could feel the callouses on his fingers as he began to adjust your grip. You stood, entranced, while he guided you into a more natural stance, his touch leaving a trail of tingling warmth each time it came in contact with your hand or arm. When he was satisfied with your position, he stepped back and went to retrieve his own weapon.

“Alright. Now, I want you to try and hit me.”

Your astonished expression made Edmund grin in spite of himself. Had he made that suggestion to his sisters or Peter, they would’ve knocked him flat without a second thought. You were far too sweet for your own good.

“It’s alright darling. They’re only tourney swords, watch.”

To prove his point, Edmund ran the index finger of his other hand along the blade’s edge. You watched, waiting for blood to appear, but let out a sigh of relief when none followed. As Edmund had said, the blades had been blunted for practice or sport.

“See? You wouldn’t hurt me even if you wanted to. Well, I suppose you could, if you smacked me with the hilt. But please don’t. My face is the only asset I’ve got”

You laughed, the action pulling some tension from your body. Edmund smiled encouragingly, before bringing up his sword and crooking the fingers of his other hand.

“Come on then. Or are you just going to stand about admiring me all day?”

With another laugh, you took a couple cautious steps forward. Edmund watched your feet with the trained eyes of a practised fighter, but otherwise didn’t move. A few more steps and the space between you two had shrunk to little more than an arm’s length. You stared at your betrothed for a moment, once again giving him the chance to change his mind.

When no protest came, you thrust your sword forward, aiming to hit the side of Edmund’s shoulder. It was a clumsy attempt, without enough force behind it to make for a decent strike, and Edmund sidestepped it easily. You expected him to come dancing around your other side, grinning like a fool and taunting you into having another go, when you felt the flat of a blade smack across your ass.

You whirled, gasping in both surprise and affront. Edmund was roaring with laughter, nearly doubled over with the force of it. You couldn’t help but pout a little, feeling betrayed.

“Oh god, I’m sorry dearest” he said, still a little breathless “That wasn’t very sporting of me, but I couldn’t help it. Here, let’s try again, only this time I want you to put more weight on your front foot and really extend your arm. Then you’ll have better balance and a more fluid thrust, alright?”

You nodded, doing as instructed while Edmund returned to his spot in front of you. As he said, the motion was smoother and your feet felt surer beneath you as you pushed forward. Once again, you tried to strike Edmund’s shoulder, figuring that was a safe choice lest you miss your target.

This time, you managed to glance the blade off Edmund’s arm before he darted away. He let out a playful whoop, before disappearing again behind your back. You turned as quickly as you could manage, knowing he was going to try and spank you again, but Edmund was quicker. The flat of his sword struck your ass with a sharp, stinging blow. You grit your teeth, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of hearing you cry out, and spun around to face him again.

Edmund’s grin, large and knowing, was the first thing you saw after turning. It was all you could do not to toss aside your sword and wipe the smug look off his face with the palm of your hand. It reminded you of your summers as teenagers and all the times he ducked you in the river, before finally apologizing and pulling you in for a burning kiss while you’d clutched at his bare arms.

The memory made you shiver, and you wondered if perhaps this was the same sort of game. Your betrothed's face gave nothing away, whatever he was scheming was staying locked away behind that infuriating smile.

“Giving up already, are you?”

Taking a deep breath, you brought the tip of the sword up once more and pointed it directly at Edmund’s chest.

“Not a chance, your highness.”

With that, you rushed at Edmund, throwing sportsmanship to the wind and hoping you could surprise him before he was ready. For a moment, he appeared genuinely taken off guard, and you relished the way his eyes widened as you swung your sword through the air. However, a well timed feint from an amateur was no match for the best swordsman in Narnia.

The resulting vibration of Edmund’s sword clashing with yours made your teeth knock together and seemed to shake the breath from your lungs. You clutched at your aching wrist, and doubled over to kneel in the dampened grass. Your sword fell from your loosened grip, now useless and forgotten on the ground.

Immediately, Edmund was crouched beside you, having tossed aside his own weapon the moment he saw you go down.

“Oh god, sweetheart, are you alright? I’m so sorry, did I hit you too hard?”

You sat, your face protected in the cradle of your arms and knees, refusing to look Edmund in the eye. When he reached out a hand and placed it on your shoulder, you pulled away.

“Darling?” his voice dropped low, into that special, soft tone he only used for you “Darling, look at me, please.”

Even when he said your name, you didn’t look up. You waited, trying to keep your breathing even. Inside your mind, you began to count.

Three…

Edmund moved even closer. You could feel his breath by your temple, his face only a few inches from yours.

Two…

He said your name again, but to no avail. This time, when he placed his hand on your arm, you didn’t move.

One…

The look of shock on Edmund’s face as you leapt and tackled him into the grass was one you were going to savour. Within seconds, the two of you were tussling atop each other like puppies, the world lost in a whirl of limbs and giggling.

You had the advantage, but Edmund was faster and stronger. It wasn’t long before he had you pinned beneath him, his face hovering just above yours and his arms forming a cage on either side of your head. Your legs were tangled together, one of Edmund’s knees trapped between yours, and your feet seeming to go every which way.

“You little minx” he panted, your mouths so close the two of you were almost sharing breaths “I was scared I’d really hurt you.”

“Will you forgive me if I yield?”

Edmund studied your face, the put upon pout, your flushed cheeks and the way your eyes shone with mirth, and felt what little resolve he had crumble.

“Of course. How could I stay mad at you?”

By way of apology, you reached up and pulled Edmund’s head down into a bruising kiss. He moaned, softly, before working your mouth open with his tongue, which you received without protest. Your bodies were flush together, the metal of his armour searing cold against your skin. You were about to offer to help him remove his chest plate, when your hips jerked up instinctively, knocking into Edmund’s and revealing the hardness in the front of his breeches as they brushed together.

Embarrassed, you broke the kiss and hid your face away in the side of his neck. The two of you had had many firsts together, but nothing that had ever gone below your waistlines. Edmund chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring in your ear.

“Hey, it’s alright. Don’t worry about that, okay? I just want to focus on kissing and touching you. It’s all I’ve been able to think about lately, you’ve practically driven me to distraction.”

You looked up at your betrothed, who’s cheeks were equally as flushed and eyes equally as bright as your own. You thought about the first time he’d kissed you, beneath an apple tree in the orchard. You’d been scared then, and embarrassed too, but Edmund had guided you through it with as much patience and gentleness as anyone could have asked for. Since then, you knew you’d always be safe with him.

“Alright, I suppose I’ve caused you enough suffering for one day.”

Edmund laughed again, before bringing his mouth down to kiss your neck. You moaned, tilting your head to the side to give him better access, and this time when your hips bucked upwards, you didn’t feel as ashamed. It wasn’t long before he was tugging at your collar, trying to gain access to the tops of your breasts.

You slipped a hand between your bodies, doing the best you could to open the laces on your shirtfront despite the awkward angle. That was all the invitation Edmund needed. He began a trail of heated, open mouthed kisses along your collarbones, each one leaving a faint red mark in their wake. Your body felt as though it was on fire, pleasure and want coiling deep in your stomach.

Every sense you had was filled with Edmund, his smell, his taste, the feeling of his lips and fingers exploring your exposed torso. He touched you as though you were something precious, his personal goddess of love and beauty laid almost bear beneath him. You moaned his name over and over, like a prayer, begging your most devoted follower to offer all he had in the worship of your body and soul.

Edmund…Edmund…

“Edmund!”

The two of you split apart as though you had just been burned, Edmund scrambling to his feet while you hurriedly tried to arrange your shirtfront back into place. Above you stood Peter, every inch a High King with his face like thunder and the afternoon sunlight glinting off the peaks of his golden crown.

You kept your eyes trained to the ground, studying where the grass had been trampled0 beneath your footsteps earlier on. Any explanation for this was going to have to come from Edmund, your tongue had left you to fend for yourself and you wanted nothing more than for the training pitch to open up and swallow you up.

“Peter…I…we-” Edmund’s voice was shaky, sounding more like a little boy who’d been caught nicking sweets than a grown man of one and twenty.

“I have been looking for you. Everywhere.” Peter’s tone was even, but there was a biting inflection to each word that made you wince “The council. Has been looking for you.”

Edmund’s cheeks went from flushed to pale so quickly, you were afraid he might swoon.

“Oh God. The foreign policy meeting. Was that today?”

“Yes, Ed! It was hours ago, or would’ve been if you’d actually bothered to show up. I had a room of dignitaries and house representatives, some of them all the was from Calmoren, looking at me like I was the biggest fool ever to walk the face of the Earth, and asking where you were. As if I had any bloody idea!”

Peter’s shouts rang out through the air, clear and dripping with every ounce of disappointment the young king could muster. While his ire was directly entirely at Edmund, you couldn’t help the cold shock of guilt that was now settling in your stomach. Edmund had been distracted lately because of you, he’d even said so himself.

“I’m sorry!” you cried out suddenly, rising to your feet so you could take hold of Edmund’s hand “It’s my fault. He wanted to come and see me, that’s why he missed the meeting. I’m so sorry Pe- Your Highness.”

There was little change to Peter’s expression, saved for a single raised brow. However, his eyes seemed to soften ever so slightly as he looked you over, taking in your mussed shirt and hair, and the way you were clinging to Edmund’s arm.

“Who’s idea was it to come out here?”

You and Edmund exchanged a quick glance, but said not a word.

Peter let out a sigh that seemed to come from the soles of his boots, before trying again.

“Tell me. Whose idea was it?”

“Mine.” Edmund interjected, before you could even open your mouth in his defence “I said we were going to have sparring practice”

It was all Peter could do not to roll his eyes.

“Wonderful. Then you can be the one to explain to the council why the meeting was moved to next week.”

Any glib comment Edmund might have made in reply was silenced as Peter grabbed his brother by the collar, and proceeded to drag him off by the scruff like a misbehaving puppy. You watched as Edmund was frogmarched across the training pitch, Peter half carrying him as though Edmund wasn’t at least a good foot taller and wearing full plate armour. The look on the High King’s face told you that this was something he’d had more practice doing than he probably liked.

They were about halfway across the field when Edmund finally wrenched himself free from Peter’s grasp, which in turn caused some sort of argument to break out. You were too far away to hear clearly, but you caught a snippet or two, mostly Peter’s exasperated baritone saying something about “the wedding is in a month, just wait, would you?”

He punctuated that statement by cuffing Edmund around the ear, and though the younger man yelped in protest, he didn’t return the blow. You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, imagining that this was also most likely a scene that had frequently played out in Edmund’s life. He seemed to forgive Peter quickly, however, since he didn’t pull away when Peter then slung an arm across his shoulders.

Before long, the two of them were approaching the cluster of trees just before the path that would lead back to the castle courtyard. Just before they disappeared from view, Edmund turned back to face you, brought a hand to his mouth and mimed tossing a kiss to where you were waiting. You laughed, delighted, and returned your own volley of kisses, which Edmund then pretended to store in his pockets for later.

Edmund was a lot of things. Stubborn. Sarcastic, and well acquainted with a healthy sense of mischief. But in spite of all that, at least he was never boring.

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