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im-a-wonderling · 3 months

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White Moves First, Part 5 ~ Edmund Pevensie

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: none

Word count: 3k

White Moves First Masterlist

@writing-on-the-wahl you're amazing, in too many ways for me to try and sum up. Thank you so much for everything.

“Never in all my days did I imagine this would come to pass!” My father clapped his hands together, the sound an unnaturally sharp contrast to the excitement of his words.

I tried to match his radiant smile, but failed before I even started.

It was less than ten minutes after Edmund went to go find my father when I was summoned to the king’s study. Cor sat properly on the sofa facing the fire while Corin slouched beside him. Edmund stood by the right corner of the mantelpiece, his back to the fire and his gaze trained on the rich wooden floor. Not knowing where to stand, I stood by the left corner.

My father flitted between his desk in the corner and Edmund, seemingly unable to keep still. “My daughter and King Edmund?” he said with comical disbelief. “How wonderful it is!”

Corin shook his head, looking a bit dazed. “My sister, a queen.”

“Of Narnia,” Cor added, giving his twin a significant look. Not the fourth wife of a prince in Tashbaan, his expression said, likely familiar with the consequences of those words ever leaving his mouth. Most everyone in the room believed I still had no idea how close I’d come to being a princess of Tashbaan and not a queen of Narnia.

Edmund’s gaze didn’t shift from the floor.

To anyone else, his face would speak of deference and humility, but I knew him, like I knew the scratches on my chessboard too well to mistake it for another or the paths of the garden too well to get lost. His expression was one of discomfort. And how could he not be uncomfortable when he was stuck in a room with my father and brothers, discussing the topic of marriage?

He’d seemed so surprised when I brought up how much he loathed marriage, as if it wasn’t plain and simple to see. Whenever Queen Susan or Queen Lucy talked of weddings and betrothals, he looked as if he’d smelt something rancid. What kind of friend would I be if I hadn’t noticed?

Hopefully, we had a few months before we married, to give us time to figure out how this arrangement was going to work.

“I am overjoyed!” my father announced, needlessly. We could all see it on his face. “And your mother would be so happy.”

I pursed my lips. Would this make my mother happy? Would the proposal from Rabadash have worried her? Would she have been relieved? Or, perhaps, like me, would she have been left in the dark, blindly following my father’s choices?

“Father, perhaps–” Cor’s comment was interrupted as the door flew open to reveal Edmund’s older sister.

“Queen Susan!” my father boomed, spreading his hands like he was welcoming an angel.

“I came as quickly as I could.” She glanced around the room as she closed the door behind her. “What’s happened?”

“Your brother’s marrying my sister,” Corin grumbled, and Cor nudged him.

Queen Susan’s eyes went wide as they found her brother. “You…” She glanced at me. “And…?”

“Me,” I finished awkwardly.

To her credit, Queen Susan only blinked once before taking the news in stride. “Well then,” she folded her hands together, “I suppose we’re preparing a wedding.”

My father nodded. “Ab-so-lute-ly. Why, there isn’t a moment to lose!”

“Sorry,” I cut in, “but why do we have no moments for, uh, losing?”

“The sooner we get married, the better,” Edmund said calmly from his spot on the other side of the room. Everyone looked at him, a common occurrence whenever the Just King opened his mouth. But unlike normal when Edmund would hardly acknowledge the attention, he glanced uncomfortably at everyone before meeting my eyes. “It won’t do to wait, not with Rabadash’s presence here.” He started to push his hands into his pockets, and, at the last minute, he clasped them behind his back instead.

“Oh,” was all I said.

“And why would we wait?” My father seized one of my hands, dragging me closer to Edmund with such zeal, I nearly tripped, and would have, if Edmund’s hands hadn’t found my waist to steady me. “This is a fated union!” my father boomed in Queen Susan’s direction as Edmund’s hands flew away from my waist and his feet shifted to create space between us.

I was so distracted by Edmund, it took me a moment to understand what my father had said.

Fated union? Hadn’t he just said moments ago that he never imagined this happening?

“If we work quickly,” my father walked towards the queen, “why, we could have them married by the end of the week!”

Queen Susan jerked out of some pensive musing. “Yes! Yes, I don’t see why not.”

“We’ll get started immediately.” My father offered his hand to the queen, which was quickly accepted. “Now, my lady, we must start with the guest list. Of course, the Archenland nobility will all be invited to this most auspicious event, but we must see about inviting High King Peter and Queen Lucy.” Still talking, he led her out of the room, leaving me and my brothers with Edmund.

Silence fell.

As the fire behind me let out a great pop, I peeked at Edmund, who was already looking at me. The moment our eyes met, we looked away.

Cor caught my eyes, quirking an eyebrow, but Corin was staring at Edmund with the defiant expression he wore whenever someone dared him to do something foolish.

“So why do you want to marry Y/N?” Corin asked.

“Corin!” Cor hissed.

“It’s a valid question!” Corin folded his arms. “You’re wondering it too!”

I looked at Edmund and knew we were silently asking ourselves the same question: did we reveal to them the true motivation behind why Edmund suddenly wanted to marry me? Edmund raised his eyebrows, clearly placing the decision in my hands.

If they knew, they would see how wonderful Edmund was…but they would also see how pathetic their sister’s position was, that I’d found out I was being married off and had to rely on a friend to rescue me because I couldn’t rescue myself. I didn’t want them to be party to my embarrassment. “It’s none of his business,” I said to Edmund, and I knew he understood my hidden meaning. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“It is too my business,” Corin argued, getting to his feet. Cor got to his feet also, putting a hand on his twin’s shoulder, which Corin quickly shook off. “If he’s going to be my new brother-in-law, I want to know.”

Brother-in-law.

The title made me feel suddenly queasy. If it made me feel queasy, it certainly made Edmund—the man who never wanted to marry—uncomfortable as well.

“Corin–” I started, ready to send him off the trail.

“Your sister,” Edmund cut in, drawing all eyes, “is special.”

Special.

That was like calling something interesting—it sounded like you were saying something, but you really said nothing at all.

“Really, Edmund, you don’t have to–”

“Shhhh!” Corin shushed me. Both my brothers faced Edmund, looking expectant. Outnumbered and helpless, I dropped into an armchair, watching Edmund try and stitch his words together.

“It’s not hard to find a beautiful woman,” Edmund said finally. “Nor is it rare to find a well-mannered woman of grace and poise. I’ve met many women of great intelligence or enthusiastic patience or tremendous humanity.”

I looked down at my shoes, my eyes watering from the smoke of my hopes burning.

“But your sister, somehow…is all of those things.”

I glanced up to see Edmund looking over at me. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a soft and undeniable fondness in his eyes. “Any man would be lucky to have her, but none could deserve her.” He shook his head. “Not even me.”

My heart overflowed, brought to the brink of pain with the amount of affection in it.

“I’m quite convinced that if she wanted to,” Edmund tilted his head, “she could outshine the sun.”

His words stole my breath. I fought to regain it, to be as unruffled and mighty as his words made me seem, but air seemed beyond my reach. He didn’t have to say all that, I’d given him permission to ignore my brothers, and yet he’d said it anyway. Did he really mean it? Or was he pandering to my brothers to convince them?

Even as I pondered the question, I could tell by his face that his words were in earnest, and it made me wonder. As underhanded as Rabadash proved himself to be…was he right? Did Edmund truly love me?

Corin pretended to gag. “Gross.”

“Corin!” I exclaimed, feeling my cheeks heat up.

“I didn’t ask for poetry!”

Cor shoved Corin. “Shut up!” Cor stepped forward to clap Edmund on the shoulder. “It will be an honor to have you as our new brother, King Edmund.”

Edmund politely inclined his head. “Likewise.”

“You picked a good one,” Corin told me, begrudgingly. With that, the twins left the room, arguing about Corin’s manners as they went.

And then, Edmund and I were alone.

All our familiarity melted away like snow in the spring. We didn’t touch each other, we didn’t look at each other, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if Edmund was trying to ignore the sound of my breathing the way I was trying to ignore his.

My current position far exceeded my position a few hours ago. Marrying Edmund was a vast improvement over marrying Rabadash.

But…with Rabadash, there was no obligation to pretend it was anything more than an arrangement. I could’ve spent my whole marriage loathing him, and it changed nothing. But with Edmund? I didn’t have the ease of hatred nor the certainty of love. It was still an arrangement, but an arrangement that left me unsure of where I stood.

“Will you stand up for me?”

I blinked, suddenly noticing that Edmund stood in front of my chair now, his hand outstretched. “What?”

“Stand up.”

I did, tentatively placing my hand in his. Edmund was standing so close, I had to tilt my head back to look in his face. This is how we stood in the drawing room, when Edmund looked down at me with an expression I’d never before seen.

He was wearing the expression again now.

Then, ever so slowly, he dropped down to one knee, and a sudden burst of alarm shot through me. “What are you doing?” I cried before clapping a hand over my mouth at the sheer volume of my shrill voice.

Edmund reached out for my other hand. “I’m doing this right.”

I curled both hands into my chest. “You don’t have to–”

“I do,” Edmund said grimly, looking up at me. “In fact, I should’ve done it in the drawing room the moment I thought of this whole plan. You deserve to have this done right.”

“But this makes it–” I’d been about to say ‘real’, but nothing about this was real. If it were real, Edmund would propose because he didn’t want to live life without me. Because he loved me, not because he was trying to save me from an impossible situation.

And yet, it was real. This was happening.

“Will you please let me do this?” Edmund asked.

“But I’ve already said yes!” I said shrilly. “We’re already getting–”

Married.

A measly little word, and yet I couldn’t make myself say it, too aware of its weight.

“You said yes to the plan.” Edmund got to his feet again, something raw in his eyes. “You didn’t say yes to me.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s implied!”

Edmund bent a little so that our faces were on the same level as he looked directly into my eyes. “I don’t want a marriage based on an implication.”

My knees shook a little, weakened by the intensity of his tone. There should’ve been no surprise about this. I knew what kind of a man Edmund was. Of course it would translate into the kind of husband he wanted to be.

“Y/N, please,” Edmund begged. “I-I need to feel like I’m doing this right.”

“You’re…” I trailed off. “You’re already doing too much for me.”

“Then do this for me.”

Why? my head screamed. I knew what Rabadash’s answer to that question would be, and it scared me. But as Edmund looked at me with his wheedling face, I knew there wasn’t much I could ever deny him. I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded, not trusting my voice. For Edmund. I could let him do this.

“Alright then.” Edmund clumsily and awkwardly took my hands, and I wasn’t sure if his hands were sweating or if mine were as he lowered himself onto his knee again. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

For a scary moment, I couldn’t form any words, couldn’t do anything except stare at him. Edmund was gaining new titles with this.

Son-in-law. Brother-in-law. Husband.

And so was I, I realized.

Queen. Sister-in-law. Wife.

I stared down at Edmund, cursing his persistent need to do things ‘the proper way’.

“Please say yes,” Edmund pleaded, his eyes imploring for the word.

Why did he seem so desperate? We were already getting married. The deal was already made. The wedding was being planned. Why did my ‘yes’ matter so much?

It didn’t matter that much to anyone else.

I swallowed hard. “Yes.” The word was strained and indecipherable, so I cleared my throat. “Yes, Edmund, I’ll marry you.”

Edmund didn’t smile. Instead, he released my right hand, shoving his own into his pocket.

“What are you–” My words died as my eyes caught the flash of silver. I gaped down at Edmund. “You got me a ring?”

Edmund laughed nervously, looking down at the band in his hand. “Not exactly. It’s actually my signet ring from when I was younger. I, uh, I outgrew it, and they had to craft another one.” He lifted his right hand to show off the ring on his pointer finger. “I-I just thought, um, that it could work until we could have another one made for you.” His rushed and uncertain words floored me. He scratched his neck. “It’s small, I know, and it’s very simple, but I just, I mean, I thought perhaps, in a way, it’s right–”

“It’s perfect.”

Edmund looked up at me. “Really?” I nodded, wordlessly holding out my hand. Edmund, staying in his position on the ground, gently slid the ring onto my ring finger. It nearly slipped back past my knuckle. “Um…I guess it’s too big.” He started to pull it off.

“Wait!” I quickly slid it onto my middle finger. Still too big.

Edmund rose to his feet. “Really, if it doesn’t fit, you don’t have to–”

I slid it onto my pointer finger, and it stayed right where it was. “It fits,” I said, showing it to him.

“It’s not on your ring finger though,” Edmund said, frowning.

“No, it’s okay. I like it on this finger.” I held it up to the light, admiring the birch leaves right in the center. “And anyways, we match.“ Taking his hand in mine, I spread his fingers until our palms met, the rings matching up with our pointer fingers. “See?” I said softly.

Edmund didn’t reply at first. Then, his eyes met mine. “I guess we do.” He let his fingers slip, intertwining with mine. I held my breath, suddenly anxious as his thumb gently, soothingly rubbed mine. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I let out the breath, sinking into the comfort of my courteous and wonderful friend. “Yes. Are you?”

“Apparently,” his Adam’s apple rippled as he swallowed, “we’re going to be married by the end of the week.”

I knew it, I knew he didn’t want to be married. I loosened my grip on his hand. “You don’t have to do this–”

“Y/N,” he said softly, holding my hand tighter. “We’re not going to have this conversation over and over again.”

“I-I just, I can’t–”

“If the roles were reversed,” Edmund cut in, “would you do the same for me?”

“Of course I would,” I replied without a moment’s hesitation. “I’d do anything for you, because you’re my best friend.”

The corners of Edmund’s mouth turned ever so slightly upward. “And I for you, because you’re mine.” His expression turned a little devious. “Should I be offended that you keep trying to let me out of this?”

I chuckled a bit self-consciously. “It’s probably bad manners, isn’t it, to reject a gift like this?”

“It is,” Edmund said pleasantly. “But have no fear, I’ll still bring you gifts on your birthday every year.”

I smiled. “Except you’ll only have to walk them down the hall instead of sending them across nations.”

“I’ll save on so much postage,” Edmund murmured. I giggled lightly, and Edmund smiled fully. The tightness in my chest eased at the familiar sight. It was the type of smile that promised we were going to be okay. The awkwardness of our impending marriage couldn’t shake our friendship.

The door opened, and we respectfully stepped away from each other.

“Y/N,” said Queen Susan’s melodious voice, causing me to look up. She pursed her lips, clearly trying to conceal a smile. “I want your opinion on flowers for the wedding.” Her eyes flicked towards her brother. “Edmund tells me you like flowers.”

I looked over at Edmund, and the pink dusting his cheeks made me smile. “Yes, I do,” I said lightly, walking over to Queen Susan. She turned to lead me down the hall, and I glanced over my shoulder at Edmund.

He looked the very picture of regality.

His hands were behind his back again as he stood at his full, kingly height. Even the smile on his face was lordly, yet spoke of such warmth, I wondered at his assertion that I could outshine the sun.

Didn’t Edmund know he already did?

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@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

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@thelifeofsecretpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen

#narnia #chronicles of narnia #edmund #edmund pevensie #edmund fanfic #edmund fanfiction #king edmund #king edmund the just #arranged marriage #arranged marriage trope #friends to lovers #chess #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #marriage #wedding

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writingwhimsey · 7 months

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Hii! I wanna say congratulations for the 300 followers, your writing is honestly amazing and you're def my comfort writer <3

Anyways, for the celebration request, can I get arranged marriage fluff with Motonari? I've been feeling in need of Motonari fluff lately, and I already know it's gonna be amazing with your writing skills and our favourite pirate king!

Again, congrats in 300! I honestly think you deserve way more than that 🫶

Thank you for your support, sweet anon! And thank you for this request! I love this pirate so much! And there needs to be more fluff with him! So, I am happy to contribute to that fluff.

Alright so here we go! Motonari and arranged marriage fluff!

The Pirate and The Princess

It had been two months now that Motonari had entered into this arranged marriage with the Oda Princess. Two months since she had come to live with him. He had let her know from the beginning this was nothing more than a political arrangement, that it was a marriage in name only.

Of course, the princess had known that even without him stating it so bluntly. She was his wife legally and in name…but that was all there was to it. In truth, she was little better than a hostage, a pawn in this political game to secure the alliance…to make sure that the Oda didn’t do anything Motonari didn’t agree with…and to ensure that Yoshiaki never came back into power.

“This marriage is just a means to an end. I never wanted no wife.” Motonari had told her, his tone harsh, though she didn’t flinch.

“I’m not an idiot.” She had told him, fixing a glare at him. “You think you’re some kind of catch or something? Please, I never picked this arrangement. You are the LAST person on earth I would pick.”

“Well, at least we’re on the same page then.” Motonari had replied, surprised by the fire in her eyes. He had mistaken her for some shy weak little thing…but it appeared she had been more.

“Lady Mouri, perhaps I can show you to your chambers.” Hiroyoshi had said, interrupting them.

“That sounds good.” She had said, getting up to follow the old goat, showing him a genuinely kind smile…something that had irked Motonari.

After that, the princess had given him the cold shoulder. Though she would smile and chat up Hiroyoshi and his crew, being totally sweet to them…and looking at Motonari with utter contempt whenever they would cross paths.

It had honestly gotten under Motonari’s skin. “Why’s she always gotta look at me like that? Why’s she always got that sweet smile fer everyone else?”

“Perhaps my lord, you could try being kind to the Lady Mouri.” Hiroyoshi had said, to him as he brought Motonari some documents with some new trade agreements.

“The hell you talkin’ ‘bout ya old codger?” Motonari had groused.

“Nothing, my lord.” Hiroyoshi had replied. “You know, I was talking to the princess the other day…apparently she was working as a seamstress in Azuchi before she came here. It was something she rather enjoyed.”

“Am I s’posed ta care about somethin’ she likes?” Motonari had asked.

“Just thought it was an interesting tidbit, my lord.” Hiroyoshi had answered. “Though, I did hear that she was a highly sought after seamstress. Highly skilled and very passionate about her work. She brought in lots of new business to Azuchi.”

Motonari had looked up at the old man, intrigued by this, lifting one white brow. “That so?”

“Very so, my lord.” Hiroyoshi had answered.

“Get ‘er some fabrics then.” Motonari had said. “And sewin’ stuff.”

“Of course, my lord.” Hiroyoshi had replied, a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face.

“Don’t go gettin’ no funny ideas. It’s just good business.” Motonari snapped.

“No ideas at all, my lord.”

It had only taken another few days after that for the princess to come knocking on his council room door. “What?” Motonari had called as she came in, carrying something in her hands.

“I…just wanted to give you this…as a thank you for the fabrics and sewing notions.” She replied, bowing and handing him a small wrapped parcel.

Motonari looked at her as he took the package. “That ain’t nothin’ ta thank me for. Hiryoshi said you were a good seamstress. Just a good business move.” He replied, waving her off.

“Still…I really appreciate being able to get back to it and having something to do.” She replied. “I think I was beginning to drive poor Hiroyoshi crazy constantly asking him for something to do…and well also… I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“What are ya talkin’ about?” Motonari asked.

“Just…I know this arrangement is all political and I don’t expect to EVER fall in love with you or for your shriveled black heart to start beating and beating for me…but maybe we can LIKE each other even if we don’t LOVE each other…and maybe be friends.”

Motonari blinked in surprise at her words…was…no one had ever come to him with such a crazy offer before. “Ya got flowers fer brains or what?” He had asked her.

“Ugh…I can’t believe I even tried!” She groaned as she got up in a huff. “I thought…I don’t know what I thought.” She was then quickly leaving the room.

Motonari watched her go, not saying a word. It irritated him that she left so quickly…but he couldn’t quite figure out why. He looked down at the package she had given him…finally he decided to open it. Inside was a small handkerchief that matched the fabric of the cape he usually draped over his shoulder and was embroidered with the Mouri crest on the corner.

The fabric was perfectly cut and sewn well. The embroidery was intricate and clearly that of a skilled hand. “Ah…dammit.” Motonari had groaned, running a gloved hand through his hair in agitation. “Dammit all ta hell.”

The next night, Motonari had gone to the princess, carrying a tray with some tea and a freshly cooked meal he had made. “Here.” He said, as he sat the tray down in her room, where she sat working on her sewing.

She had looked at him, confusion in her face. “What’s this for?” She asked.

“Hiroyoshi said ya been workin’ all day…ain’t had much ta eat.” Motonari had answered, honestly not even sure why he was here.

“I…suppose now is a good time for a break.” She had replied, placing a loose stitch in her work to save her place before neatly folding it and setting it aside.

“Well, enjoy.” Motonari said, awkwardly heading for the door.

“You…you aren’t going to join me?” She asked, her words stopping him in his tracks.

“What?”

“Well…I thought…nevermind.” She replied. “Thank you.”

Motonari let out a groan as he turned back around to her. “No, tell me what’s on yer mind.”

“I just…I thought maybe…this was you…maybe agreeing to what I said the other day…about us trying to just like each other…get to know each other.” The princess answered. “Where I come from… people share meals and get to know each other.”

“I still think ya got flowers growin’ in that head o’ yers…but maybe we can give it a try.” Motonari found himself saying.

And thus began a new ritual. Every night the pair would sit down to dinner together…a dinner Motonari made as he wouldn’t eat food others had touched. This was something Motonari had surprisingly come to look forward to. They would talk and… well they would bicker quite often. Motonari would tease her and get her riled up…and she would bite back…which was something he found he enjoyed.

Though if Motonari were being honest, the thing he enjoyed the most would be at the end of one of their bickering sessions. The princess would sigh and shake her head…but she would be wearing the most beautiful smile. Her eyes would be warm and full of light…and Motonari was entirely unaware of the warm look he would give to her in return.

On this particular night, after finishing their dinner the princess let out a sigh. “I guess you’ll be heading off then?” She asked.

“Don’t tell me you’ll be missin’ me, flower girl.” Motonari teased her.

The princess scrunched up her face. “I wouldn’t go THAT far…but… I just… get bored.”

Motonari chuckled. “Well, if yer bored, then hows about we go on a little adventure?” He found himself suggesting.

She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “What kind of adventure?”

“Only one way to find out.” Motonari replied, grinning in spite of himself. “What do ya say, flower girl?”

“I say… I must be utterly insane because… it sounds like fun.”

It was a short time later, Motonari and the princess were leaving his castle, Motonari leading her through a path in the forest. “Watch yer footing. It can get kinda rough around here.” He warned her, as he held a small lantern to guide them.

“I’ll do my best.” She replied.

They walked a little further before Motonari found himself reaching a hand back towards the princess. “Here, don’t need ya fallin’ on yer face…despite how funny that might be.”

The princess blinked as she looked at Motonari’s outstretched hand, still clad in his white glove. Though they had never expressly discussed it…she was aware that he didn’t like to be touched. She’d been aware of the physical distance he purposely kept between them. She’d also seen him keep that same distance with… well everyone. She’d even witnessed him violently through off an overly-flirty lady of the night. It wasn’t too hard to pick up on the fact that Motonari didn’t like to be touched.

“What? Somethin’ wrong?” Motonari asked.

“W-won’t…you be…uncomfortable?” She asked, looking up at him, her eyes wide in the low light of the lantern and the moon.

It was then that Motonari seemed to become aware of himself…aware of what he was offering. Was he really about to let this other person TOUCH him? His hand was still hanging in the air between them. He thought hard about this now…but to his surprise…the idea of the princess’s hand in his…it didn’t make his skin crawl. It didn’t make him break out into a cold sweat. He didn’t know why…but SHE was okay.

“It’s…okay.” He told her, a surprisingly tender look in his eyes, his crooked smile soft.

“Are…are you sure?” She asked, still hesitant. “If it would make you uncomfortable, I can walk fine on my own…and even if I were to trip, I’m not THAT delicate that a little tumble would hurt that bad…wouldn’t be the first time…”

She was rambling, he could tell. “I said it’s okay…but only if it’s you.”

A small gasp escaped the princess as she looked up at him, her eyes somehow going wider. “O-okay…” She was then ever so slowly, placing her hand in his.

Motonari’s gloved fingers curled around her delicate hand…so much smaller than his own. Her hand felt warm in his palm…and he was surprised to find…it actually felt pleasant to hold her hand. He turned forward once again and lead her through the forest, making sure to keep her from tripping as they went.

Soon they were coming to a clearing that led to a small cliff’s edge. “Stay close and watch yer step.” He told her as he led her up the cliff.

“You’re not gonna throw me over and claim I fell are you?” She joked, though Motonari could detect a hint of nervousness in her voice.

Motonari looked at her, lifting a brow. “No.” He answered. “Yer shakin’ there m’lady. I promise I ain’t takin’ ya out here ta hurt ya.”

She shook her head. “That’s…not it…I uh…I may…have a little fear…of high…places.” She admitted sheepishly, looking down at her feet.

Motonari still held her hand in his. He found himself giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry, I got ya.”

She looked up at him, surprised to see how gently he was looking at her right now. His hand around hers was warm…and surprisingly comforting. “Okay…”

Motonari led her up the cliff, keeping her hand in his the entire time. “Now…have a look at this view.”

The princess turned and looked out. The cliff overlooked the ocean, and her breath was instantly taken away. The large full moon and the millions of twinkling stars were reflected on the water’s surface, broken only by the ripples of the gentle waves and the ocean creatures moving below the water. It looked as if the sky truly never ended.

“It’s…wow…it’s…” She gasped, as she took in the view.

Motonari watched her, unable to keep himself from smiling. Her eyes twinkled as if holding the light of the stars she was gazing at. As he looked at her, one word flitted through his mind completely unbidden…

“Beautiful.” The princess’s voice said, completing her unfinished thought.

Motonari couldn’t help himself and his lips were moving before he could even think better of it. “Yeah, beautiful view.”

The princess turned to him, her cheeks reddening as she realized Motonari was watching her and not the ocean of stars in front of them.

It was there in that moonlit night, a garden’s worth of new flowers began to bloom.

@zulablaise @limonzu @kisara-16 @oda-princess

#300 follower celebration #ikesen motonari #ikemen sengoku motonari #motonari mouri #ikemen motonari #cybird motonari #otome motonari #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #fanfic #ikemen series #cybird #otome boys #fanfiction #fluff #arranged marriage trope

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diaries-of-a-hopelessromantic · 2 years

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The Bride Ran Away [Aleksander Morozova x Reader]

Summary :- You run away from your wedding. Will he find you?

Warnings :- running away, mentions of murder, Darkling's shadow, him being sweet af!!

Requested by :- @budugu

Your lungs were burning. You had been running for about an hour. Why? Because you didn't want to marry him. Your parents had arranged your marriage with The Darkling! You didn't want to marry that cold - hearted murderer! So you ran away.

Everyone was looking for you in the whole place. He was getting angry now. How dare you leave him?! Suddenly, the room started to get darker. A sign that the Darkling was getting angry now. His men rushed to calm him down. But he couldn't. The love of his life, his tsaritsa had left him. He wanted you back. He had a tingling that you had ran into the forest. So he ventured out in the woods to find you. To bring you home.

Soon, he heard a noise, something rustling in the bushes. He immediately went towards them and started to pull them apart. Just as he was doing that, he saw you, curled up in a little ball, little whimpers escaping you. Your wedding dress was a little torn from all the running in the woods. “Moya lapushka”, he cooed. You looked up at him. You backed away as soon as you recognised him. “I've come to take you home, my love ”, he said, gathering you in his arms. You didn't resist him much. Soon, you nuzzled your head in his neck. His scent smelled like home. Because he was your home.

A/n :- Hope you liked this! Feedback is always appreciated. Lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist.

Tsaritsa :- Queen

Moya lapushka :- my sweetie/darling/honey

Taglist :- @matchat3a @loverandqueenofdragons

#Aleksander Morozova x Reader #The Darkling x Reader #arranged marriage au #Arranged marriage trope

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sarahsartistportfolio · 1 year

Text

This was actually completed back in January but I was indecisive about what to write in the dialogue boxes til now.

Featuring Evelina and Josef from my story, The Curse of the Ravenwood King. I want to draw more illustrations that will give you more insight into their relationship.

Close ups so you can read my sloppy handwriting

#my art #my ocs #the curse of the ravenwood king #fantasy characters #fantasy ocs #ocs #original characters #original character #original character art #oc drawing #oc art #oc couple #princess #king #arranged marriage trope #colored pencil art #colored pencils #colored pencil drawing

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writerunblocked · 7 months

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Bullet Proof Heart: III. Acceptance

Synopsis: Anya accepts her fate as Tommy Shelby's future bride as the Rosenthals get even worse news on their patriarch's condition sending the local Jewish community into a frenzy to help make his incoming death easier. Anya finds out something about herself and about Tommy. Maybe being Tommy Shelby's fiancée isn't the worst thing in the world.

Trigger Warnings: Death and dying, cancer, allusion to smut, but no actual smut.

WC: 4426

Bullet Proof Heart: Read Part 1: The Arrangement here. Read Part 2: Out of the Bag here

Anya was staying after school to get some grading done before she went back to her place to pack. She’d found out that she’d be leaving her parent’s house and moving in with Tommy, much to her family’s horror.

The conversation that her family had when Abe got back before heading back to his place. He’d come clean to everyone about the shortchanging and how their dad had taken the fall for him, unfortunately, Anya's fate was sealed. She would be Mrs Thomas Shelby, and that made her sick to her stomach.

But what scared her the most was that she loved Thomas Shelby, and had since the moment she’d opened up to him about her ex. How he held her and let her talk about it, how he told her of the war and what happened in the trenches and how that on the nights she wasn’t here in his bed sleeping soundly next to him, he was brought back to France and the memories of the tunnels. She knew that a man like him wasn’t capable of love, but here she was madly in love with one Thomas Shelby. He was the first thing he thought of when she woke up and the last thing she thought about when she went to sleep at night. She wished it didn’t have to be like this, unfortunately, it did.

“Anya,” she heard her friend and colleague Emma say. “Are you alright?”

Emma and her and known each other since they were children. Emma was the daughter of Irish immigrants from Dublin and the two women grew up right next to each other and had squealed in delight when they got the job at the school together. They always said that they’d be at each other’s weddings, but they both didn’t realise that Anya's would be so soon. “I’m moving into Thomas Shelby’s home,” she whispered. “I need to pack, I move in this Saturday.”

“You’re brother couldn’t get you out of the marriage then?” She asked. Anya shook her head ‘no’, tears in her eyes as she thought of what was in store for her for the rest of her natural life. Even when he died, and it would most likely be before her, she’d still be known as Thomas Shelby’s wife. “When Tommy Shelby says ‘it’s you’, then it’s you. I knew what I was getting into when I took that job at the Garrison, I just didn’t realise it would go that far.”

The staff at school looked the other way when it came to her second job at the Garrison. They knew she was sleeping with Thomas Shelby, but no one said anything. Now, her after-hours activity with Thomas Shelby was a bit too difficult to ignore. Especially the days he came to pick her up in his fancy car that none of the staff would be able to afford.

“Parents won’t even talk to me unless they have to. The kids don’t laugh and joke anymore, it’s so terrifying for everyone,” Anya sighed.

“Do you love him, Anya?” Emma asked. Her green eyes looked into Anya's blue ones.

Anya nodded her head. “I do,” she said. “I have since that night,” Anya told Emma what that night was like. Emma was in amazement at what she’d just told her.

She saw a side of Tommy that no one ever saw. A man before the war, a man before Grace’s betrayal. “I wonder what he was like before the war,” she sighed. “I’ve never asked. I don’t remember what Abe, Dan, Jakob, and Asher were like before the war.” She was fourteen when they came back, and fifteen when they got the medals for their service to the Crown. However, they never understood why there was a Monarchy in this day in age. Russia got rid of theirs ages ago.

The two women grabbed their stuff and walked out of the building, Anya looked around to see if anyone was following the two of them. A wave of relief washed over her when she realised no one was there. “Where are you headed?” asked Emma.

“The Garrison,” Anya sighed. “Tommy asked me to meet him there.”

“Good luck, Anya,” Emma said.

In fifteen minutes, Anya was able to get to the Garrison only to find that it was only Tommy sitting at the bar. “Hello, Anya,” he said.

“Hi, Tommy,” she said. She put her things in Tommy’s office and went behind the bar. She poured the two of them a glass of whisky. “What do you want.”

“Your brother visited me last night,” Tommy said.

“And you heard the full story,” she said. “And yet my fate’s still sealed. I’ll be Mrs Thomas Shelby by the end of the year.”

She shivered at the thought of it. She knew she was older and needed to get married, but she’d always hoped that it would be to someone not like Thomas Shelby. Even though she loved him, the man wasn’t able to be in a monogamous relationship. He’d be cheating on her for the length of their marriage. “And is that a bad thing?” He asked.

“Seeing as you’re not the type of man to stay with one person and that I’m being forced into this marriage—you can see why I have reservations about this,” she sighed.

“You seriously think that?” He asked.

She nodded her head. “Though you might not be seeing Lizzie Stark anymore, I’m sure there are other women that you’re seeing besides me.”

“Believe it or not, Anya, I’m not seeing anyone besides you,” he told her.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I highly doubt that,” she said. “You’re Thomas Shelby after all. You have a bit of a reputation for sleeping around.”

“Not since that night,” he said.

“What night?” Anya asked, hoping that it was the night she fell in love with him. The night she told him about her ex who was stalking her.

“The night you told me about how your ex followed you around town. I’ve sent men looking for him and he’s to be brought to me when found,” Tommy said. “Something changed that night and I realised I love you.”

Anya sat there in shock. ‘I realised that I love you.’ She took a deep breath and tried to speak, but she was speechless. Anya didn’t know what to say. “I love you too. Since that night as well. I thought you couldn’t love me back, but—”

Tommy got up from where he was and passionately kissed her. She kissed him back as well. The two of them looked at each other and smiled. “I love you, Anya,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Tommy,” she laughed.

Anya was led into Tommy’s office. He shut and locked the door, but they didn’t think Arthur would come in. He took off her dress, bra, and panties, and she ripped off his clothes. He pushed he onto the desk and wrapped her legs around him. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “You’re mine, Anya,” he said. “You belong to me.”

“Yours,” she whispered. “I’m all yours, Tommy. Make me yours.”

After they were through with each other. Anya sat on the settee in his arm. He covered her up with his jacket because he realised she was cold. She laid her head on his bare chest, something she’d done many times before. But this time it was different, they had told each other how they felt.

“How are you, love?” He asked her.

“Amazing,” she smiled looking up into his blue eyes. “You?”

“Amazing,” he whispered. “I love you, Anya.”

“I love you too, Tommy,” she whispered. He leaned down to kiss her. “But what are you going to do with my ex?” She asked.

“Kill him,” Tommy responded. “The fact he follows you around’s something I know bothers you.” Tommy wrapped his arm around her and she didn’t protest. “Go get yourself a nice dress.” He said.

“Why?” Anya asked.

“You and I are heading to the races,” he said.

“The races?” She asked in shock.

“Yeah,” he said. “Buy yourself something nice.”

“I don’t have the money,” she said. “We’re saving up for my dad’s funeral.”

“I’ve got it,” he said. He handed her over £20 and she was amazed. “Buy something red.”

“Why red?” She asked.

“Because it brings out your eyes,” he said.

She went to leave for the door, but Tommy stopped her. “You’ll be staying with me for tonight.”

“I need to get back to my parents,” she stated. “My dad’s doing worse.”

“How bad is he?” asked Tommy.

“Most likely the end of the month the doctors say,” she said. “Thank you, by the way for paying for him. It means a lot to me that you’re doing this for me.

Tommy nodded his head and the two of them walked out together. People made way for the two of them on the street. “Hello, Shelby,” someone said.

Anya kept her head down as she looked at the pavement. She could feel all the eyes on her, and even though she was used to it by now, she still felt nervous. And that was because she was with Tommy. He wrapped his arm around her when she ran into one of her kids.

“MS ROSENTHAL!” Henry called. He ran up to her. “Ms Rosenthal, my mum wants to talk to you.”

“Is everything okay, Henry?” She asked.

“It’s about your father,” he said. He looked at his rundown house, he didn’t live too far from where Anya lived. “Wait a moment, let me get her.”

The twelve-year-old friend of her nephews ran into the house and brought out his mother, a small woman by the name of Dorothy Levi came out. “Oh, Anya, glad I caught you. Can you come in?”

“Uh, I needed to get home to see my father,” she said. “My fiancé also needs to be getting back.”

Mrs Levi looked at Tommy and gulped. Her face turned white and she muttered a silent prayer in Hebrew. Henry looked up at Tommy and also gulped. He stood by his mother, hoping that she would protect him from the most powerful man in Birmingham. “S 'iz ams. Di shmueus zenen ams!” (It’s true! The rumours are true!) She quickly regained some of her composure though. “You both can come in, it’ll be quick.” The four of them quickly went inside where her fifteen-year-old daughter Rachel was sitting at the table doing cross stitch work.

“Rachel,” her mother asked. Rachel got up from her needlework and looked at Tommy and Anya. “Will you put the kettle on for Mr and Mrs Shelby?”

Rachel quickly nodded her head, quickly moved her needlework out of the way, and then put the kettle on. She grabbed the tea bags and the cups and waited. Henry gathered around as well. “It’s Ms Rosenthal for now,” Anya smiled sweetly. “We still haven’t settled on a date.”

“Oh,” Mrs Levi said. “Well, congratulations then.”

“Thank you,” Anya smiled. No one needed to know how her engagement came about. She still wasn’t wearing a ring yet.

“When did it happen?” She asked, eyes still on Tommy.

“Two weeks ago,” Tommy said.

“Mazel Tov to both of you,” she said, though her expression screamed to her that she was in pain and feared for Anya’s life. Both women knew that no one was safe once they became entangled with the Shelbys. Both women knew that Anya would most likely die in the crossfires of a war that the Shelbys had either started or had gotten dragged into the middle of.

Tommy was confused as it what it meant. Anya budded in. “It means congratulations,” she said. “It’s Hebrew.”

“Oh,” he said. “And you speak that.”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s my second language. What we all speak around here is Yiddish.” He nodded his head.

“How’s your father?” Rachel piped. Everyone looked over in the direction of Rachel who was sitting on the stairs with her brother fiddling with her needlework. “He’s a nice man, I’m sorry for what’s happening to him. Do you know what it is?”

“Cancer,” Tommy responded. “He was hit hard in the War and the gas got into his lungs. He doesn’t have much longer.”

Rachel and Henry seemed visibly upset. Everyone loved her Dad, he was a nice man. “He’d always give us sweets,” Henry sighed breaking the silence. Tears stained his doe-brown eyes. “He’d play with us and he was always a good listener.”

One thing that everyone knew about David Rosenthal was that he was willing to be a surrogate dad to all the kids who had fathers who died in the War. He had known these men and wanted to make sure that his friend’s kids were okay. Mrs Levi’s husband Aaron had died in the War, leaving behind a six-year-old daughter and a one-year-old. A nice man all around, so it was no wonder everyone was distraught when they found out that Mr David Rosenthal was sick. The look on the Levis’s faces showed that finding out the man had cancer was even worse than saying that he was sick. At least if he was sick he could recover, with Cancer, not so much. It was a death sentence.

“That damn gas,” Mrs Levi muttered. “How much longer.”

“Doctor’s estimate around a month,” she said.

“How’s your mother?” Mrs Levi asked.

Anya went through the routine questions after this and answered the same answers as she did with everyone. ‘Her mother was holding up as to be expected.’ ‘It still hasn’t sunk in to Gal and Noam that their grandfather was dying’. The lie of ‘My brothers and I are doing as well.’ And the final answer of ‘If we need anything, we’ll let you know.’” The same monotonous answers to those questions on repeat daily. It was getting draining to them all.

She hated how people handled her with kid gloves ever since they found out the news about her father. There would be a new layer to that when people found out who she was engaged to.

“Oh,” Mrs Levi said. “Before I forget, Anya.” She handed Anya some rugalach, a crescent-rolled pastry that she could only assume was filled with chocolate. Something that was her father’s favourite.

“Thank you, Mrs Levi,” she smiled. “My father will love these.”

She nodded her head and pulled Anya into a hug. She whispered in Anya’s ear, “es iz gelt far ir takt avek in dort. loyft, loyft azoy veyt fun dan vi du kenst.” (There's money for you tucked away in there. Run, run as far away from here as you can.)

“aun hot meyn mshpkhh gehrget? di eyntsike vos shpirt zenen di kinder, ikh ken nisht loyfn, s'zenen aumetum aoygn,” Anya responded softly. (And have my family killed? The only ones spared are the kids, I can't run, there are eyes everywhere.)

But she took the money anyway. She had her hiding place so that she did have some extra money to escape if she did need to. Anya and Tommy walked out of the house and Anya politely nodded to Mrs Levi. She could see the neatly tucked envelope disguised as a note to the family, but she was now worried for Mrs Levi, who could very well be next on the Shelby fit of rage. She didn’t want that to happen to Rachel and Henry. She didn’t know how she’d deal with having to look Henry in the eye every day in school knowing she was the one who caused his mother to be murdered.

“Everyone around here’s worried about you,” Tommy pointed out. Anya nodded her head in agreement.

Anya sighed. “And can you blame them?” She asked him. “You’re Thomas Shelby after all.”

“You’ll soon be Mrs Thomas Shelby,” he said.

“And some people think it’s my downfall,” she quipped. Opening the door, she was greeted by her mother who was slaving over a pot of chicken soup. Gal and Noam were engrossed in some game, and her brothers were in their father’s office talking in hushed tones.

Her mother was the one who greeted them first. “Mr Shelby,” she said. “Come take a seat, I bring out vodka for you.”

“Do we have any whisky?” Anya asked. She knew that they probably wouldn’t, but it was still work the ask. Tommy preferred whiskey to vodka.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s Irish.”

Mum probably bought it because of Tommy. Anya thought.

Tommy nodded approvingly and took a seat. Anya quickly got up and looked at the soup, instead of noodles mazoh balls were in it. Her mother must’ve really been stressed if she made matzoh ball soup instead of chicken. Stirring it, she looked over at her father’s office where hushed voices speaking Yiddish were to be heard. The men were speaking in hushed and hurried tones as if they would be overheard.

“Auntie Anya?” asked Gal. Gal looked exactly like her late mother. She’d inherited her mother’s curly blonde hair and light blue eyes that were the same colour as Tommy’s. She and small eyes, thin lips, and a small stature. Every day she looked more and more like her mother who had died of Influenza three years previously. She also inherited her mother’s sweet nature and disposition, but there was a mischievous, rebellious, and loyal streak that her father Abe had in his youth.

“Yeah,” Anya responded looking down at the little girl who also bore a striking resemblance to her and her mother as well.

“I’m hungry? When’s supper?” She asked tentatively. Her eyes went to Tommy.

“Mr Shelby?” She whimpered. She bolted behind Anya who looked at Tommy and sighed. Gal was also scared of meeting new people, something she’d also inherited her father’s side of the family. “What’s he doing here? Please don’t kill my daddy.”

“What gives you that impression?” Tommy asked.

“You’re a ‘ganger’,” she said.

“Gangster, Gal,” Anya corrected. “He’s a gangster. And he won’t hurt your or your dad. I won’t let him.”

“I don’t hurt kin,” Tommy assured the girl. “Your wonderful Aunt here is my fiancée.”

“I don’t see Auntie Anya getting married,” she announced as a matter of fact. Anya scoffed.

“You’ll see me in a wedding dress by the end of the year,” Anya said. “And maybe one day you’ll do the same thing when you’re a bit older than me.”

“I’m thirsty,” she said.

“I’ll get you some water,” Anya smiled.

“I want vodka,” she said.

Anya looked at Gal and sighed. She was exacerbated. “Gal, I love you, but with dinner.”

“Uncle Isaac gave me some!” She grumbled. The little girl pouted and crossed her arms, obviously annoyed that she couldn’t get the clear liquid that traumatised every Eastern European when they were younger.

“Uncle Isaac’s Uncle Isaac,” Anya said.

Her mother’s head peaked out from the other room. “Anya, can you help me for a moment.”

Gal looked at her grandmother and then back to her Auntie, horrified that she’d be alone with Tommy. Anya leaned down to Gal’s level, “He’s not going to hurt you. He doesn’t hurt kids.” Gal nodded reluctantly, trusting her Auntie. Anya turned to Tommy and asked: “Will you watch Noam and Gal while I help my mum with a few things.”

“Of course,” Tommy said.

Anya walked away and into the room with her mother where the alcohol and a few other things were kept.

Tommy had to admit that it had been awhile since he’d had to do something with a little kid. Sure, he’d helped raise Finn with his Aunt Pol and older brother Arthur, but it had been a while since he had to deal with kids. Noam, a boy who was the spitting image of his father, with jet-black curly hair yes, olive skin, and brown eyes that screamed ‘trouble maker’, looked at Tommy with distaste. “You’re the one marrying, Auntie Anya,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” Tommy responded taking a seat next to the boy who was playing cards. Noam glared at him and Tommy had to do everything in his power not to shiver, that was the same glare that his father, Abe, had that sent many people shivering from the iciness of it. “What are you playing?” Tommy asked.

“Poker,” he said. “My cousin Ben taught me how to play it. I was going to play with Uncle Asher”

“I like poker,” Tommy said. He hadn’t played in a while, but he’d normally play with his brothers. Maybe a few other higher-ranking gang members or his uncle Charlie would play with them as well. But due to business, they never got the chance. But he missed playing. Tommy remembered back to the Trenches where one night he played the game with Asher, who had learnt it from his American cousin named Ben. He would later go on to meet Ben briefly when his unit arrived in France.

“You know how to play?” Gal asked sitting down beside Tommy.

“Yeah,” he said. “Your Uncle Asher taught me how when we were in the trenches.”

Noam and Gal looked at Tommy in shock. “You served with your uncle?”

“I served with your uncles and your dad,” Tommy sighed thinking about how lucky he was to have made it home. Home to see his Aunt Pol and little brother Finn. Back home to meet and get married to Anya. “We were all kids then.” He sighed.

“Dad doesn’t like to talk about the war,” Noam sighed.

“Do you want to start a game while we wait for your family?” Tommy asked.

Noam nodded his head and dealt them in. Gal sat beside them playing with a stuffed tiger he saw Anya have one day after they were done having sex and watched them interestingly.

“Why doesn’t Daddy talk about the war?” Gal asked.

Tommy hesitated to answer her. Tommy had spared Finn the details of the war, being only Gal’s age when he came back from France. “We saw a lot of things,” he sighed. He thought of the cannon fire, how men no older than him lay among the wreckage of the French Countryside. The Somme and Verdunne were littered with the bodies of men who had their entire lives ahead of them. His Aunt Pol had told him one night that ‘it was a miracle that you all made it back from France.’ And she was right. He remembered on the train ride back to Birmingham from London and how the five Rosenthal men and the three Shelby men all came back alive and David voicing it. The rest of them nodded. He remembered coming home and seeing men changed by war and the shell shock that came with it.

He thought of how Arthur often acted out while Tommy and Finn had flashbacks in their sleep. How Tommy used Opium for years and then switched to Cannabis later in life. He thought of Danny Whizz-Bang, real name being Danny Owen, who would later be killed because of a flashback. The flashbacks were so violent that he’d cause damage to property or people that he got the cruel nickname.

He closed his and took a deep breath, thinking of telling them how in France Abe had held off a group of German soldiers, killing them in the process while Tommy was able to get word to the others in the tunnels that there were soldiers and to alert the commander. When the group came back, the German soldiers lay dead on the ground. Abraham Abel Rosenthal looked exhausted, but he’d fended off a group of soldiers. He’d saved their lives in the Trenches. Tommy returned the favour a year from then, also saving thousands of allied lives in the process like Abe had done before him underneath the tunnels.

“I’ll tell you guys when you’re older,” he said. “I’ll also let your father tell it in his time.”

Noam muttered and continued dealing in, placing wooden blocks between the two of them. The concentrated look on his face reminded Tommy of his late mother Sarah, who died three years before. He remembered losing his mother at a young age as well. And he could see the toll that it took on Abe every time he’d interacted with the man.

“They always say that,” grumbled Gal.

He remembered the same conversation he had with Finn all those years ago about this very same thing. He knew that Abe had this conversation with them before. “When you’re older,” Anya said. “You playing Poker?” She asked.

He nodded his head. “Asher, do you want to join in?”

“Sure,” Asher said, stunned at how good he was with the kids. The way Tommy was acting with them, it stirred up something inside her that she hadn’t felt before.

Anya had always loved kids, other people’s kids mind you. She loved her niece and nephew and she loved being a teacher. She had never felt the inklination to have them though. Now, looking at Tommy, she thought differently. Maybe she could have a family. Now, that inkling was now coming through.

“They’ll have to come over,” Tommy said looking at Anya.

“Where?” Anya asked.

“Our place,” he said. “You spend a lot of time with them. My place is closer to school, they’ll be able to get there quicker.”

“We get our own room?” asked Noam in shock.

“I’ve never had my own room before,” Gal whispered.

Abe looked into Tommy’s blue eyes. Tommy could tell then and there that he had the oldest Rosenthal sibling’s approval. As well as her entire family’s approval. “And now you will with…” Abe trailed off.

“Your Uncle Tommy,” Tommy said without thinking. He felt confident being ‘Uncle Tommy’ to Noam and Gal. He cared about them because Anya cared about them. He always smiled at their names and saw them around town with Anya who would often sneak them sweets and other treats. He remembered throwing the ball back to Noam when he was playing in the streets with a few boys from school with a couple months to go. He smiled when Gal would be around town with Anya, clinging to her and hanging on to her every word. Anya smiled and nodded as she complained about her brother.

“Do you want to stay for dinner? We have a lot,” Chaya asked.

Tommy nodded his head, happy knowing that this would go as smoothly as it could possibly be.

#tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby arranged marriage #arranged marriage trope #clilian murphy imagine #cillian murphy

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mostly-marvel-musings · 3 months

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PERFECT IDEIA, PLEASE

💁🏻‍♀️🤍

My loyal Stark squad! Thank you for this. I’m gonna pen down the storyline over the weekend as much as I can.

#the stark squad #anon asks #arranged marriage trope

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writing-on-the-wahl · 1 year

Text

Dai Discovers Part 1: Happy Dai

A/N: Hi hi friends! Just a couple important things to know going in: First, this series is about Dai, a half mage/half Dragon who’s been hibernating for a LONG time and has just woken up in the modern world.😇 Second, the wolves and mages in the region are on the brink of war.😈

(For more on my version of Dragons, see this world building post)

Vincent:

I frowned as I crossed out an entire paragraph of text from the document I’d been editing for hours, wishing the Elders hadn’t felt the need to insert their opinions into my negotiations with the mages.

Now not only were they insisting we uphold the ancient tradition that a treaty was only credible if accompanied by a marriage between the two sides, they wanted to include all of the wolves’ ancient marriage traditions as well. I’d agree to marry under the light of the full moon, but there was no way I would be wearing a four foot tall headpiece.

I just wanted our people to stop fighting each other. Why did everyone have to make it so complicated?

I glanced longingly at the slit of night sky visible through the crack in the heavy hotel curtains, but there was no time for even a quick jaunt in the moonlight.

Tomorrow morning the leaders of all the mages and wolves in the region would gather for the official opening of the peace summit, the meeting where I would see for the first time the mage who’d agreed to marry me to seal the treaty between our people.

My future wife had arrived at the hotel mere hours ago. Simon and Tori had seen her enter with her brother, Lord Jasper, but she’d been bundled in so many hooded layers the only description they’d been able to give was “average height and reeked of gold.”

Sighing, I turned back to the long list of potential stipulations for the treaty. The next one was a heavy paragraph outlining how the mages must provide a volunteer to live with and perform spells at our bidding. I rolled my eyes and reached for my pen. The mages made their livelihood by providing their magical services for a fee, why would any of them ever agree to offer them for free?

I was crossing out the ridiculous stipulation when the door to the hotel room beeped open.

I stayed bent over the thick document, making a note in the margins. “What is it, Daman?”

“We think she ran, sir.”

My head shot up. “How do you know?”

The quiet blond shifted uncomfortably. “Well, sir, we’ve been keeping an eye on their hallway like you ordered and, well, the shower is still on.”

I raised a brow. “And?’

“It’s just well, we heard it turn on at seven.”

I checked my watch.

9:17

I ran a hand through my hair. “You think she climbed out the bathroom window, 13 stories up?”

Daman shrugged. “They did say she was half Dragon.” That didn’t mean she had wings.

Did she truly consider a 13 story drop less terrifying than me? Was it this marriage of alliance or the treaty itself that she was more opposed to? I closed my eyes at the thought of this treaty failing, and was assaulted by the vivid memory of acrid smoke and ash-filled air. The charred remnants of Aiza’s house crumbling around me.

I refused to let one mage’s trepidation destroy everything I’d been working for. I would not let my people fall to this senseless violence. I was halfway to the elevator before I made the conscious decision to move. Daman trailed behind me.

“And the other mages?” I pressed. Surely they hadn’t all fled.

“None of the other mages were brave enough to book rooms in the same hotel as us,” Daman reminded me. “They’re all across the street. So we didn’t have to worry about being caught spying.” Daman added, and I recalled that the mage lord had been surprisingly unconcerned about staying alone a mere elevator ride away from a company of wolves.

Samuel met us as the elevator opened on the 13th floor, the scowl on his face carrying into his gruff words. “It’s still running.”

I led the way to room 1307. The doors were placed farther apart on this floor—luxury suites. We passed 1310, and even with the thick walls, it was easy for my sharpened sense of hearing to pick up the dialogue of the movie playing in the room. In 1309 a mother hushed a fussing baby, the sound rising over the low snores of a second child.

The front desk had offered to upgrade my party to this VIP floor at no charge, but I was content with our double set of rooms on the second floor. I liked knowing I could jump off the balcony if I needed a quick exit.

Slowing to a stop outside another identical polished dark wood door, I cocked my head to the side and listened.

But no voices came from 1307.

Just the constant white noise of the running shower, and the faintest traces of background music. Like a TV left on at its lowest volume.

My fist connected with the door a little too loudly, my tapping foot continuing the impatient beat as I waited for the door to swing open. A long moment passed.

I knocked again, louder.

No response.

It was strange. Worrying. Lord Jasper should have been in the room as well. He’d been less than thrilled to offer up his sister as a sacrificial lamb, and tension coiled within me at the thought of him secreting her away.

“No one left the room?” I confirmed as I pounded my fist against the door once more.

Daman shook his head. “We’ve had eyes on it all night.”

It had been easy with no other mages around to catch us spying. I’d been secretly pleased when I learned they’d be staying somewhere else, though in truth, Lord Jasper had looked nearly happy when the other mages had announced their intention to stay in the sister hotel across the road. His reaction baffled me at the time, because it hinted at either a misplaced willingness to trust his enemies or an over exaggerated confidence in his power. Neither of which matched my initial impression of the leader of the mages.

In our interactions thus far, the mage lord had appeared to be level-headed and optimistic. Which hinted at ulterior reasons for wanting to be separate from the others.

At the moment, I didn't much care what his motives were, I just wanted him to answer the door.

They were both gone? If so, there would definitely be no peace treaty.

What if he’d planned to sneak his sister out? Perhaps that was why he’d chosen to stay in this hotel. It could have been his plan all along.

Hot anger flared in my chest and I rammed my shoulder into the door. Wood splintered and metal bent as the door flew open at the force of the blow. Across the room, Lord Jasper bolted to his feet, pulling his large headphones down around his neck. The peaceful--yet loud--instrumentals of the Planet Earth theme song filled the room in sharp contrast to the tension hanging in the air.

A quick touch to the headphones and the music cut off abruptly.

The typically cheerful mage eyed me, and I wondered what sort of picture I made-- standing uninvited in his hotel room, my two best warriors hovering in the cracked door frame behind me.

“Vincent.” His eyes flitted to the bathroom door, opposite his position in front of the couch. His fingers twitched but his voice was steady as he ignored our violent entry. “Our meeting is set for nine in the morning.”

It was a gracious statement, a way to let me back down without losing face. There was a small noise from the bathroom, and the shower cut off.

“Jasper?” The warm, gentle voice resonated through the door.

The mage’s eyes bobbed between the door and the imposing wolves. “Yes?”

“I heard voices. Do we have visitors?” The words were tinted with the timbre of a language too old for names.

“I-No. They were just leaving?” He shot a questioning glance my way.

I remained where I stood, confused but pleasantly surprised at the excitement in her words. Up until this moment, my future wife had been an impersonal figurehead to stand at my side and ensure peace between our people. I hadn’t allowed myself the luxury of hoping for anything more than that. Now I lingered in the calm left behind the warm voice, strangely impatient to meet its owner.

Though if any of the elders were here they’d be yapping about breaches in tradition and not seeing my betrothed until the official introductions.

Jasper’s shoulders stiffened and he kept his eyes on me as he reluctantly called to his sister, “Would you like to greet them?”

“Yes!”

The enthusiastic answer made Jasper sigh.

“One minute! Don’t let them leave!!”

I had been so distracted by the rich timbre and heavy accent of the girl behind the door I’d forgotten the reason for my impulsive entry.

She was obviously still here. I should have taken the exit Jasper offered. But it was too late to back down, and a part of me was glad of the opportunity to meet she-of-the-beautiful-voice.

I eyed the broken doorway regretfully. Not the first impression I’d wanted to make.

Jasper let out another sigh. “Allow me.”

I caught his careful wording as clattering sounded from behind the bathroom door, reminding me she could hear just as much as us.

I dipped my head in gratitude and stepped to the side as the mage carefully crossed through the kitchen and approached the doorway. His hands flew through the air, blue light illuminating his fingers in a soft glow as he made the intricate mage symbols and then ran his finger along the cracked door and splintered frame. A moment later, Jasper closed the perfect door.

He’d barely done so when the bathroom door whipped open and a cloud of steam filled the room. Daman let out a cough and Samuel fanned the air in front of his face, trying to clear his field of vision.

“Ohhh sorry, sorry!” The steam vanished just as quickly as it had come, leaving behind the Lady Daiiryn Rensalus, my future wife.

If someone had asked me to pick Lord Jasper’s Dragon half-sister out of a hundred people, she would have been my last guess.

It wasn’t just that she looked nothing like her brother. While he was golden haired and tan, her hair was several shades lighter; her skin several shades darker.

Jasper the Mage Lord looked a dozen times more like a fierce Dragon of legend. His features were sharp and eyes cunning. Her features were soft, eyes wide and bright, hair a mass of damp waves that messily framed her round face.

Her hands had fallen back to her sides after completing whatever spell she’d cast to dissipate the steam, and I was briefly distracted by the too-long sleeves of the oversized pink pajama shirt completely enveloping her fingers, along with the matching bottoms that were rolled up and bunched around her ankles. They looked like the type of soft but cheap material you’d find in a superstore, though I couldn’t imagine how Lord Jasper had managed to get her size that utterly wrong.

She looked about as dangerous as a fluffy white kitten, but I had no doubt her claws would be just as sharp.

“Hello!” Her voice was rich, and her face filled with genuine delight. I’d just broken into their hotel room under the assumption she’d run away from our arranged marriage in terror, and she was looking at me like I’d just bought her a puppy.

Lord Jasper crossed quickly to her side. “Gentleman, allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Daiiryn Ren--”

Her quick elbow to the side had Lord Jasper doubled over, clutching his ribs. “Dai!” She stepped forward, roughly shoving her hair out of her face before extending her hand to me. “I’m Dai.”

I stared at her hand, then glanced back at Lord Jasper, who had recovered enough to straighten. When he’d been reluctant to involve his sister, I’d assumed she was a timid, fragile thing, and that, perhaps, he was ashamed of her.

“I thought you said people now shake hands rather than bowing…” She’d followed my gaze to her brother, and she was glaring at him with as much force as a kitten gazing at a laser beam that was just out of reach.

“They do?” Lord Jasper’s breaths were still coming in pained wheezes, and I made a mental note to avoid the Lady Kitten’s deadly elbows. Lord Jasper seemed torn between glaring at his sister for the elbow and staring at me like I was an imbecile for not shaking her hand.

I jumped forward, catching Lady Daiiryn’s still outstretched hand in mine. “Forgive me, my lady, I was too distracted by your beauty to obey proper social customs.”

WHAT. IN THE WORLD. DID I. JUST SAY.

Then to make matters worse, I brought her fingers to my lips and kissed them.

All the dignity and pride I carried as leader of the largest wolf territory on the continent vanished faster than the steam from the shower, and I was struck with the desire to find a nice dark hole to go die in.

Behind me, Daman smothered a cough, and the lady in question’s eyebrows rose until they disappeared into her hair. She slowly withdrew her hand from mine. Her hands both rose to cover her mouth.

“Oh that was nearly quite perfect!” She whirled to face Lord Jasper. “Jaz, did you teach him that?”

Jaz shot me a look before smiling at his sister. “No. I imagine he simply wanted to make you feel more at home.”

“It was quite like something Lord Midan once said to me, do you recall? At the ba--” She trailed off, turning back to me. I wondered if all the spinning was making her dizzy.

“Forgive me, I didn’t give you a chance to introduce yourselves!”

A deep feeling of dread welled up at the possibility her friendliness was only because she did not know who I was.

But then she leaned to the side and offered the wolves behind me a tiny wave. “If you’re Lord Vincent’s men, I should know you.” Her bright smile turned on me. Lord Vincent, would you be so kind as to introduce me to your companions?”

I stared at her for a moment as relief washed away the panicked adrenaline, too grateful she knew who I was to explain that I wasn’t really a ‘lord’ of anything.

Lady Daiiryn blinked expectantly up at me, and I jolted out of my thoughts enough to answer her question. “Yes. My companions.” I cleared my throat and gestured to my two best fighters. “This is Samuel and Daman.”

I froze in place as the Lady Kitten stepped around me, her arm brushing mine in the narrow entry as she warmly shook hands with my bewildered men. “Lord Daman, Lord Samuel, what a pleasure to meet you.”

From a tactical standpoint, the move was a dangerous one. Placing herself in the middle of potential enemies while cutting herself off from her brother. Yet the cheerful Dragon didn’t seem to notice. Her brother, however, stood stiffly, hands flexed at his sides, as though preparing to cast a spell.

The tension in the room ratcheted up a thousand degrees as the small Dragon placed herself in the midst of the wolves. I stepped sideways, turning so I had a clear view of both siblings.

The sister froze, her hand still clasped in Daman’s, finally sensing the building tension in the room.

“Ohsa.” The word came out a voiceless breath on a sigh, the verbal equivalent of a heavy eye roll. Without turning from Daman, whose hand she released after giving it a little pat, Lady Daiiryn--Dai-- continued, “Jasper, brother dear, If they came here to kill us, they would have tried already.”

Samuel raised a hand to cover his snort of surprise while Lord Jasper meaningfully eyed the newly fixed door frame. “Just being cautious, sister dear.”

Dai finally turned around, a tiny smirk on her pink lips. “I believe the word you're looking for is ‘overprotective.’”

Lord Jasper shook his head. “It is well within my rights, little sister.”

She snorted, though her eyes danced with amusement. “Perhaps I should be the one being cautious then, little brother.”

“I’m at least three hands taller than you.”

“And I’m at least three years older than you.”

Daman, Samuel, and I watched the exchange, our heads bobbing back and forth like spectators at a tennis match.

“Well, they will just have to forgive me for being overprotective of my only remaining family member.” Jasper met my gaze as he said it.

Dai shook her head and shifted so she faced me, though it was her brother she addressed. “If you’re done with the not-subtle threats, perhaps we can get to why my betrothed is here tonight instead of in the morning?”

Ah.

Jasper, Samuel and Daman all scrambled to speak at once.

“He mixed up the time?”

“--was too excited to meet you?”

“--needed to borrow some milk?”

Every head in the room turned to look at Daman as he trailed off.

Somehow his excuse made Jasper and Samuel’s seem absurd as well.

One pale eyebrow rose, though the pink lips beneath it were quirked up in poorly concealed amusement. “And does one typically break down the door to borrow milk?”

Of course I hadn't been lucky enough to have the shower block out the sound of our crashing entrance to her Dragon’s hearing.

“I thought you’d run away.”

The admission spilled from my mouth and I jammed my lips shut. I hadn’t meant to say it that bluntly.

“Why?” She looked bewildered. But not, to my relief, offended.

“The shower was on.”

“Yes?” Her brows drew together, an adorable pucker between them.

“For two hours.” Samuel cut in.

Her eyes lightened. “I know! And the water was hot the whole time!” Her oversized sleeves slipped down to her elbows as she held up wrinkled fingers for display. “They look like prunes!”

I looked up from her in time to see Daman and Samuel exchange a glance behind her back.

“It’s just--” I made my voice gentle, suddenly afraid to hurt this enthusiastic ball of energy. “People usually don’t shower for hours at a time.”

“Oh?” She looked utterly baffled at that, and I found myself scrambling for an explanation that wouldn’t cast judgment on her bathing habits- which were definitely none of my business.

“We thought you turned it on to mask the sound of you leaving.” As I spoke, I realized I was admitting we’d been spying on them, but neither sibling looked surprised.

“Oh!” The sound was brighter. A flash of intelligence sparked in her eyes, but there was no malice as she cheerfully accepted my explanation. “No, I’m still here!”

She smiled widely, as though she was happy to be here, happy to be marrying me, rather angry or dismayed at being woken from years of hibernation and forced to accept the hand of a stranger--an enemy--to stop a war she wasn’t a part of.

The air filled with silence after her proclamation. Before I could think of a way to express my relief that she was, well, the way she was, her head cocked to the side. I recognized the motion, and now that I was paying attention, I could hear a set of footsteps making their way down the hall, so I wasn’t surprised by the ratatat-tat at the door.

Lord Jasper jumped forward with a tense look at his sister. “I’ll get it.” His pinched expression showed more concern than it had when we’d broken down his door, and I subtly shifted my jacket to make it easier to draw my weapon.

The smell of teriyaki chicken and sauteed vegetables wafted into the room as Lord Jasper opened the door and accepted two large bags of takeout from a gangly delivery boy.

Dai stepped up to my side as I straightened my jacket. The mirth dancing in her eyes told me she hadn't missed the movement. “Would you like to eat with us?”

____

Special thanks to @im-a-wonderling for all her amazing insights and edits! Love you seester!

Taglist:

UM do I need a separate taglist for fantasci? Maybeeee?!? Haha comment/reblog with your requests to be added to my fantasci taglist.

#dai discovers #happy dai #dai the dragon #fantasci tumblr #marriage of alliance #arranged marriage trope #fluff #It really is just wait #guys just wait for all the things that dai is going to discover #fantasci writing community #fantasci snippet #fantasci

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anqaspond · 2 months

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i get the arranged marriage fanfic trope is meant to "subvert expectations" that arranged marriages are always loveless or something where oh look at this, they were arranged and they ended up loving each other, but you aren't. subverting anything. thats what people who arrange marriages want you to think. thats the narrative they push onto you. you horseshoed round into being culty propaganda. how has the application of arranging marriages flied this far over your head that it loops back to being romantic to you?? and especially when its written by a vast majority western demographic that will never experience anything even adjacent. good god. its like our continuous suffering is just a fun trope for you.

#rehashing some tags from another post #arranged marriage trope #arranged marriage #fanfic tropes #fanfic

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zukos-firebending · 2 years

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ID: Digital art of Sokka and Zuko from the waist up. Sokka is burying his face in his hands, blushing. Zuko is turned slightly away from Sokka, but is looking over. He has one hand raised to gesture while he speaks, and he looks curious or confused. Both characters are dressed nicely, with Sokka wearing layered blue tunics and lots of metal and bone jewelry, including a thick bone earring acting as a gauge in his lobe. His nails are light blue. Zuko wears layered red and gold robes, a gold collar and a small gold flame hairpiece. His hair is half in a bun and half loose down his back. Image is signed and dated 2022. END ID

For day two of @zukkaweek : Arranged Marriage! Aka, a lesson on how NOT to make a good first impression on your fiance— by Sokka and Zuko.

As much time as they took, I loved drawing all the clothes and ornamentation.

#sabriel does art #zukka #avatar fanart #zukkaweek2022 #arranged marriage trope

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msfbgraves · 1 year

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Knights and Pawns

Don LaRusso loves his boy.

Terry sees it in the way the youngster's eyes keep darting back to him, during the ceremony, toasts, dance –the omega almost melts into his embrace – knows from the size of the dowry, the venue, the tenderness of the whispered words before young Daniel joined Terry at the altar.

He didn't want this for him.

Terry knows enough not to take it personally.

Anthony LaRusso probably wanted his son packed off somewhere safe and gated and warm, be it States or Europe, far from the blood money that would have paid for this security. Terry respects that.

It makes it all the sweeter.

LaRusso's name is well earned. He doesn't kill lightly, but when he does, it's never clean. Which is why, had this escalated in a full blown war, many of Terry's men would have died; Terry's not stupid enough to think that he somehow couldn't have met the wrong end of LaRusso's blade himself. But much of Don LaRusso's power lies in his decades long reputation as a peacekeeper. Full on warfare would have cost him much of his support, and even if he won – and probably far more important to the man – it would have cost him his children. Much of his strategy relied on the fact that few would have been crazy enough to risk it, but fuck, Terry likes risk, and so do his people, and the LaRusso Alphas are cut from the same cloth. It takes an Alpha with more to lose to consider this alternative.

And isn't the boy lovely.

There's more who have tried to send him omegas in an effort to defang him. He's returned them fucked out and he himself always ready to tackle business more feral than before. What makes him dangerous, and he knows this better than anyone, is his ability to store the madness until the opportune moment. Hone it, until it shoots lasers out of his eyes.

They say he is part Fae.

So no, he's not about to ravish the boy as he presses a kiss upon his now ringed hand. He enjoys too much how his nipples peak through the white and silver tinged sheer fabric of his shirt, how he can see the faintest outline of the chain on his belly, the jewels dripping to adorn his waist, his hips, his buttocks, the coy nest of hair over his well formed cock, for he is suprisingly well endowed in indeed every sense. Nothing else but a bit of gloss on those lips, the tiniest bit of liner on those demurely lowered eyes.

“Come here my sweet, let me warm you.”

He lifts his head a fraction. “Why do we have to do it today?”

Terry smiles. “Because I want to.”

He bites his lip. “But we have a whole honeymoon.”

Terry laughs. “Come here, little fawn, I don't like asking things twice. Neither did your father.”

He pulls back in response.

“Sit by me,” Terry says, and puts a little sharpness in his voice. “You have all day, and I've held you too, and I don't deserve this.”

He looks at him. “We did nothing to you.”

Terry blinks. The boy takes heart. “We did nothing, and still you threatened to kill us.”

Terry lifts his head. “Is that what I did?”

That pout is adorable. “Yes!”

“Sweetheart.” And now he simply pulls him into his lap, locks him in an arm grip when he struggles. “Sit still or I can't talk to you.”

The boy is more cuddly than he realises, a simple stroke along his thigh and he instinctively nuzzles in closer. “Now there's a good boy,” Terry murmurs. “And I think you're not half as angry with me as you are with him.”

He looks at him, but doesn't speak. “Danny boy,” Terry says warmly. “Is this the first of his promises he didn't get to keep?”

He sees him think. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Then you've been a very lucky boy, haven't you?”

He looks down. “He said I'd get to pick,” he says. “He said they'd get to take me places, and -”

“You wanted a bit more spoiling, did you?” he tickles his side.

“I wanted to be asked!”

“My, my, my,” Terry says. “He loves you very much.” He kisses his cheek. “You lucky thing.”

“Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?”

He pulls him tighter, so it's just this side of uncomfortable. “Daniel Silver,” he says. “We have promised to honor each other today, in the sight of God and the Holy Virgin. I saw it, I was there.”

He looks down. “Sorry.”

“Thank you. And the reason why I have chosen to expand my territory is the same reason why your father has chosen to expand his. To take care of our people.”

“You couldn't do that without my Pop?” he says, a little awe in his voice.

“He couldn't do that without me,” Terry says, again, a little sharply. “Maybe for a few years. But he saw the writing on the wall. Many of the other families don't, not yet, and with your Pop's help, that mistake will cost them.”

“So my puppies,” he says softly. “Will you train them? For the business?”

“If it's in their blood.” He takes his chin. “Look at me, Daniel. I will always take care of our family.”

Daniel looks away. “That's what Pop says. And then he does this.” His eyes fill with tears. “Treats me like a pawn.”

“If he has, he's brought you right to the other side of the board,” Terry whispers. He puts a hand on the boy's crotch. “And you know what happens to pawns there?”

The boy shakes his head, still tearful.

“They turn into queens,” Terry says. “And I will make you my queen, Danny boy, if you'll let me.”

It's the first time the boy looks at him with genuine interest.

Terry moves to stand up, then sits the boy back down on the bed, before kneeling down and taking his right hand.

“Will you be my queen, Danny, love?”

“Yes,” the boy says, a twinkle in his eye. “Yes, good Sir.”

“Then come here!” Terry grins, and sweeps him up once more.

When he puts him on the bed, the boy is laughing still.

#silverusso #mob au #daniel larusso/terry silver #arranged marriage trope #abo universe #abo tw #knights and pawns

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im-a-wonderling · 8 months

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White Moves First, Part 4 ~ Edmund Pevensie

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: none?

Word count: 4.2k

White Moves First masterlist

Edmund paced around the drawing room, his anxious gaze occasionally staring at the chessboard.

Where was Y/N?

He rushed here as quickly as he possibly could after the meeting, unsure of how to tell her about everything and yet certain that she needed to know as soon as possible.

But she wasn’t there.

Too antsy to wait, he checked everywhere he could think: the royal dining room, the gardens, the library. He even went to her bedchamber and mustered up enough courage to knock. The staunch lady’s maid that answered informed him the princess hadn’t been back since she woke up that morning.

So he returned to the drawing room, fretting that Y/N would learn the news from her father, or her brothers, or, Aslan forbid, Rabadash himself.

His anxiety snowballed, every second bringing a new terrifying possibility as to how Y/N would react to his news. Would she hate Edmund for being there when her father betrothed her to a monster? Would her face go red as she stomped her foot and yelled? Would she cry, wailing about how it was a mistake? He hoped she wouldn’t cry; he never knew what to do when his sisters cried, and their tears stemmed from sentiment more than trial.

Edmund shook his head, standing in front of the window to look out at the mountains. What was he thinking? Y/N was a lady of grace and charm. She would absolutely be angry and sad, but she would never lose control. She would face the situation head on, doing her best to never let her misery show.

Somehow, that seemed worse.

A soft thud sounded behind him. Edmund spun to see Y/N with her back to the door she’d just slipped through. Finally, she was here. He opened his mouth, preparing to ask her to sit, when he spotted the look on her face, a look that spoke of such deep anguish, his heart ached.

“You know,” he said softly, the words betraying nothing of the trembling of his soul. “Who told you?”

“I listened in on the meeting.”

A rush of affection shot through Edmund. Of course she listened in. Of course she’d caught wind of the meeting with enough time to get into place before it could even start. It was just the kind of stubborn, clever thing she would do.

He chided himself. Now was not the time.

Putting his back to her, he faced the fireplace, running his hand through his hair. “We can’t allow this, we have to come up with an alternative.”

“There is no alternative.” Y/N’s shockingly steady voice made Edmund hesitate. “The prince is dead set on this engagement.”

“Maybe if I talk to Rabadash–”

“I already did.”

Sure he’d heard her wrong, Edmund turned to look at her. “You did what?”

Y/N dropped into the armchair, resting her forehead on a fist. “After the meeting, I went to confront Rabadash.”

“You did what?!” Edmund nearly tripped over the other armchair in his haste to reach Y/N. “Do you have any idea–”

A look of such distress crossed her face, Edmund lost his words.

Often, when Edmund looked at her, he could’ve sworn she emanated literal rays of sunshine. Now, her glow had been dethroned by a hefty darkness. He hovered, torn between turning away from the painful sight or comforting her.

Was she…giving up? Had she resigned herself to be Rabadash’s wife? To live in Tashbaan for the rest of her life, never to see her family or Edmund ever again? Red-hot devastation flashed through Edmund’s core, and he quickly withdrew from it, reverting back to his pacing. “Perhaps if I go to your father in private, I can change his mind.”

“And subsequently make him lose his kingdom?” Y/N shook her head. “He was willing to marry me off to Rabadash without even telling me first. Peace is his biggest concern.”

“There has to be an alternative.” Edmund scratched his head. “Maybe if some trade routes are established between Archenland and Calormen–”

“It’s not just Archenland,” Y/N said dully. “He’s worried about retaliation from Narnia too.”

Edmund blinked. “He tried to kidnap one of Narnia’s monarchs, he should be worried. But what does that have to do with marrying you?”

Y/N pressed her lips together and looked away. Was Edmund imagining it, or was that a flush creeping across her cheeks?

“Y/N?” he said carefully.

“I don’t know,” she replied, still not looking at him. “All I know is that he thinks marrying me prevents war.”

The wobble in her voice must’ve been a product of Edmund’s imagination. “Then we’ll just find another way to prevent it,” he said, returning to his pacing. “We can convene a peace meeting with all three nations, and we’ll reach an armistice. I’ll send a messenger to Narnia to–”

“Edmund, stop!”

He did stop, right in his tracks. He’d never heard Y/N raise her voice before. When he spun to face her, the dejection in her face made him want to sink through floor.

“This is what I was intended for,” she said, her voice calm again. “From birth, I was never supposed to lead. I was a bride to be married for the highest value.” She rubbed her arm, caving in on herself. “There is nothing more valuable than peace.”

“But…but Archenland needs you!” Edmund pressed.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Your family needs you.”

“No, they don’t.”

I need you.

The statement rocketed out of the depths of Edmund’s mind, shocking him so much that for a heartbeat, he worried he’d said it out loud. But Y/N gave no indication she’d heard such a thing.

His first inclination was to dispute the statement. Need? To need something was to be incapable of living without it. Edmund couldn’t live without food or water, or his body would give out. His spirit would shrivel without his siblings, just as his mind would collapse without books.

But he didn’t need Y/N like he needed any of those things, so what part of him was left to need her?

He couldn’t simply say he liked Y/N. That word didn’t do enough justice. Edmund liked a lot of people. He trusted her, because she’d long since earned it, but he trusted others as well, and he didn’t feel this way about them. He couldn’t put a name to the feeling, and he didn’t know how else to describe her presence in his life other than wholly necessary.

So...he did need her.

Is that why his heart ached as he stared at his nearly despondent friend?

Stubbornness turned over in his chest like a restless dragon, snorting flames from its nostrils. He’d be damned if he let her go to Tashbaan. The idea of losing someone so precious to someone so wicked–

Edmund went to Y/N, getting down on his knee beside her, almost reaching out to touch her hands before he thought better of it. “You are worth more than a bargaining chip.”

Y/N flashed him a fond, yet sad smile. “You always did favor pawns.”

“Don’t say that,” Edmund said, surprising himself with the sharpness of his words. “You’re not a pawn.”

“Then what am I, if not the weakest piece in the game?” Y/N retorted, getting to her feet, resuming his pacing. “I can’t do anything, Edmund! My words mean nothing! I can’t fight on anyone’s behalf, I can’t make anything lasting or important! The only reason I’m even a part of the game at all is so that I can be sacrificed!”

He got up, stepping in the way of her path so she was forced to stop and look at him. “I won’t let you go.” He took her hands again, squeezing them tightly. “We can stop this.”

A laugh tinged with sadness fell from Y/N’s lips as she looked up at him. Her watery eyes surveyed him with the same insight they always did, penetrating him down to his very bones. “This can’t be stopped.” The corners of her mouth turned down as her chin started to tremble. Edmund knew she was desperately trying to hold herself together. But he also knew she wouldn’t be able to, not if she was drowning in the same roaring helplessness swelling inside him.

Throwing caution to the wind, he wrapped his arms around her, half expecting her to delicately extricate herself from his improper embrace.

But instead of pulling away, she reacted in kind, winding her hands tightly around his back, the pads of her fingers pressing into his skin as she clung to him.

They’d never hugged before. As two members of royalty, the only touch that was allowed was his kiss on her hand or his hand on her waist as they danced. This was very different from that.

Y/N buried her face into the spot where his neck met his chest. Her shoulders began to shake, and Edmund held her tighter as if he could hold her world together purely with the strength of his two arms. She sniffed, and Edmund began to rub his hands in soothing circles on her back, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. “I swear to you, I’ll find a way. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this engagement is called off.”

“How?” Y/N said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

“I…I don’t know yet.”

Edmund hated the admission. He was the Just King, for pity’s sake! He was known for his wit and mind for strategy. Why, the only person who’d ever outmaneuvered him was in his arms right now. Surely now, when the need was greatest, his mind could come up with something?

Y/N’s shoulders stopped shaking, and she pulled away. “It’s okay,” she said softly, looking up at him, allowing him to see the unhappiness tugging at her mouth. “It won’t be all bad, right?”

Edmund should’ve agreed, should’ve tried to comfort her, but he couldn’t speak, not when he saw the wet trace of tears on her face. Just as he predicted, she was donning a brave face to hide her misery.

Y/N looked off to the side. “For one thing, my father will never be able to marry me off again.” She gave a wet laugh.

“I guess that’s true,” Edmund said reluctantly.

“I’m sure there are all manner of interesting peoples in Tashbaan.” She blinked several times, clearly fighting more tears as her trembling lips formed a fragile smile. “I won’t be totally alone, I’ll be able to find a friend.”

He couldn’t stomach that thought. Obviously he didn’t want her to be alone, but the idea of her trying to replace him with someone from Calormen only added to the pressure building in his chest.

Y/N walked over to the window, staring out at the mountains. “You know, the farthest I’ve ever traveled is Mount Pire. I’ve never gotten to cross the Winding Arrow River before, so the trip to Tashbaan will be–” she cut off.

Her words were slowly breaking him. He wordlessly joined her at the window, but instead of looking out of it, he watched Y/N gaze out at the mountains in the distance. Her attempt to find the good...it was almost too much to bear.

And yet he still had no ideas.

His anger spiked.

He was furious with Rabadash for being a hotheaded churl, with King Loon for bartering away his daughter’s life, and even with Susan for indulging Rabadash as a suitor in the first place. If she’d been content being unmarried, none of this would’ve happened. But no, she just had to have a husband, didn’t she? She’d succumbed to the same desire that many women had before her, a desire that he would never understand, a desire that Rabadash apparently expressed to King Loon.

Is this really what Rabadash wanted? To marry a woman in front of an entire kingdom? To sleep every night with her on the other side of the bed for the rest of his life? To have children with her? To belong to her?

But he wouldn’t belong to her, Edmund realized.

It was common for men of high status to have multiple wives, and Prince Rabadash was no exception. If Edmund’s intel was correct, he already had three wives. Y/N wouldn’t be afforded the respect of a princess, which was already much less than she deserved. She would become property, something to be used up and discarded.

It made him sick to his stomach, enough that he had to take a deep breath and look out the window.

Wait a minute, he thought. These aren’t the Southern mountains. He thought Y/N was looking out at the mountains that hid the Winding Arrow River from view, but the shape wasn’t right. She was looking to the Northern mountains.

The building pressure in Edmund’s chest finally grew too great as Edmund’s heart finally broke.

How often had she sat alone in this room, with no one to play chess with, staring out at the mountains that led the way to Narnia? If she married Rabadash, she would never get the chance to visit Edmund’s home. If she married Rabadash...he would never see her again.

Y/N was not a pawn, no matter how King Loon or Rabadash treated her. No, she was powerful and essential. Once she was gone, the game would be lost.

She was a queen.

And if Edmund could have his way, he would crown her himself.

Crown her himself...

A light went off in his brain, the solution so obvious, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it already.

He stepped in front of the window, turning to look at Y/N. “Don’t marry him.”

Y/N rolled her red eyes. “Gee, if only we hadn’t thought of that.”

Edmund grunted in frustration, bringing his fists up to his forehead. Considering how clever she was, he didn’t know how she didn’t understand. “No, you don’t get it.”

“It’s not like I can just waltz up to him and–”

“Y/N!” Edmund shouted.

“What?” Y/N snapped back.

“Don’t marry him.” He loosed a breath. “Marry me.”

Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, her entire face going slack as she stared at him like he was sprouting a third ear from his forehead. “What?”

“You’re right, there is nothing more valuable to your father than peace for Archenland. So we have to offer an alternative way of getting there.” Edmund spread his hands. “Surely your father would prefer marrying his daughter off to a powerful ally rather than appeasing an enemy.”

“B-but Narnia is-is already our ally.”

Edmund waved her words away. “In words, yes. But a marriage between the two countries? There’s no other move that would cement a relationship between our two countries more. It’s unquestionable. The Tisroc wouldn’t dare risk angering Narnia or Archenland, not when they would band together against him.” He waited for her to say something, but she sat silently, staring at him. “Y/N?” he said gently. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking…” She swallowed. “I’m thinking you’re crazy, and my father will never agree to this.”

“Y/N–” Edmund began, ready to reiterate the political benefits.

Y/N pressed a hand to Edmund’s mouth before any more words could escape. “And I’m thinking I’m so lucky to have a friend like you.”

All the merits of this solution died on Edmund’s lips as he realized how soft her skin was against his slightly chapped lips. Swallowing hard, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her hand down to his chest to free up his mouth. “I’m all the better for having you in my life. When I’m not here, I earnestly miss you. If you went to Tashbaan, we wouldn’t ever see each other again.”

And that was a fate worse than death.

“But I would be a–”

“You could not ever be an inconvenience to me,” Edmund said gently, but firmly. The very idea was ridiculous.

“What about other–”

“There aren’t any other women. I have no wife and have been courting no one.”

“But you’re a–”

“And you’re a princess. It’s perfectly common for a king to marry a princess.”

Y/N’s bottom lip jutted out, informing him that he was indeed correctly guessing and answering her objections. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“This is marriage!” Y/N burst out. “You’d be tying yourself to me for life!”

Edmund swallowed against the trickle of fear that appeared. “I know.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed. “But, Edmund, you don’t want to be married.” The trickle morphed into a dull roar, and it took all of Edmund’s strength to keep his face neutral. How had she known? He’d never told her, never told anyone how he felt.

She was right, though.

While Susan planned a pretend wedding, talked of having a ring on her finger, daydreamed of a husband, those things inspired no small alarm in Edmund. He could be outnumbered twenty to one and still prefer a battlefield to a chapel. To give that much of himself to a person, it was unnatural.

The skin between Y/N’s eyebrows puckered. She timidly reached out, her hand stopping just before it made contact with his skin. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

Edmund looked at her, at his beautiful friend who never needed an explanation because she understood him so well, and he realized there was something bigger than that terror.

“Y/N, listen to me.” Edmund took a deep breath, steeling his nerves and shutting down his fear. “Watching you fetter yourself to a man as vile as Rabadash would be…”

A travesty. An abomination. A crime.

He cast around for the right word, but no language in this world or any other possessed words strong enough to describe such a thing. “I can’t watch that,” he said finally. “I can’t…I can’t sit back and allow your father to give you away to a man as wholly undeserving as him.”

To be saying these things while her eyes searched his face was to be exposed. His face flushed, his body reacting to the embarrassment tossing and turning uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t like this. Forget showing her the chinks in his armor, he’d stripped himself of his armor completely.

But it wasn’t for nothing.

She, in all her luster, was worth it.

Y/N remained silent, and Edmund could see all the thoughts swirling behind her cunning eyes. “Why do you think you could get my father to agree?” she finally asked.

He could see her wariness as plain as day, but her curiosity sent hope bolting through him. “Your father knows we are friends. He saw us dance at the ball. It shouldn’t take much convincing for him to believe that I want you for my wife.”

Y/N pursed her lips at that. “What if he says no?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Edmund told her. “I will be convincing.” That, Edmund would have no problem with. He knew the way King Loon’s mind worked. If the king could give away his daughter to Rabadash, Edmund could easily convince him to give Y/N to him instead.

Edmund gripped Y/N’s hand. “Come to Narnia with me.” He couldn’t miss the spark in her eyes as he said it, the spark that matched his own. “You’ve always wanted to visit, but now you can actually come and see it.”

Y/N chewed on her lip. “Visiting and living are two different things.”

“We’ll come back here all the time,” Edmund promised. “Every time I visit, you’ll come with me to come see your brothers and your father.”

“But what about your siblings? What if they don’t want a sister-in-law?”

Edmund sent her a reproachful look. “Come on, my family loves you. You’ll fit right in.”

“But what will I do?”

“What will you do with what?”

She gestured loosely. “With my life.”

“You can do whatever you want.” She scoffed, and he scrambled to amend his statement. “You can do what you do every day here, just…over there.” Edmund should’ve started doubting himself under the rapidly rising incredulity on Y/N’s face, but how could he doubt this plan? To have Y/N with him in Narnia? They could play chess every day, and Y/N could tend a garden. All the royal events would be immensely more tolerable with her on his arm, and she wouldn’t have to hide behind a tapestry to know what was going on. Meanwhile, Rabadash would return to Tashbaan without another wife at his side.

It was perfect, and Y/N’s hesitation was making less and less sense.

“But we would be husband and wife,” Y/N said slowly and clearly.

A smidge of Edmund’s conviction warped into confusion. “…yes, that’s the idea.”

“No, I mean…” Y/N dropped her gaze to their clasped hands and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly like she was trying to make the air last forever. “What if…what if you fell in love with someone else? What if there was someone you wanted to marry…and you couldn’t, because you married me?” She looked up at him, and the deep pink of her cheeks worried him. “What about children? Do you want children? Because there’s a very, um…specific way…children are had.”

Edmund felt his own cheeks flush. This was most certainly not an appropriate topic between two unmarried people of opposite genders, which Y/N knew or she wouldn’t have hesitated or stammered.

“That is what I mean by husband and wife,” Y/N said gently. “If we did this, you’d be saving me now but cheating yourself later.”

Edmund couldn’t believe her amount of foresight. He was on the verge of running to King Loon to ask for Y/N’s hand in marriage, yet here Y/N was, the one in actual peril, who was stopping to think about the distant future.

He took a moment to think about what she was saying, to consider the validity of her concerns. He couldn’t imagine ever regretting this, but there were a hundred what-ifs tangled in this plan. They could talk for days and still not mention every possibility of this arrangement. But the uncertainty was a small price to pay given the alternative.

“I don’t have it all figured out,” Edmund admitted. “There’s a great deal we’d have to talk about.” He licked his lips. “But I’m willing to talk. We will find a way to make it work, I know we will, but right now, we don’t have time to iron out every detail.”

Y/N gnawed her lip, looking stressed.

“Do you trust me?” Edmund asked.

“Yes,” Y/N said, without missing a beat.

Her immediate confidence made Edmund feel like he could fly, and he had to take a moment to calm himself before continuing. “I believe this is the best way forward. Are you willing to try it?” Y/N searched his face, her eyes glistening with tears. Whether they were tears of anxiety, horror, anger, relief, Edmund didn’t know. “Y/N, please,” he begged.

Y/N swallowed. “Okay.”

It was such a simple word, but Edmund had never heard it said so heavy before.

“Okay.” Edmund straightened his top. “I’m going to go talk to your father.”

Y/N nodded mutely, her gaze lowering to one of the buttons of his shirt.

Edmund hesitated, wondering if he should say more but also scared the tears in her eyes might fall. “Are you…are you okay?”

“I’m worried,” Y/N whispered. “There’s so much that could go wrong.” Edmund’s heart sank. Was he forcing her into this? Was he no better than Rabadash? In his attempt to relieve her of a burden, had he simply exchanged it for another one?

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright like the sun. “But I’m so grateful.”

Edmund stared down at her, transfixed by her shining face. As he watched, her lips spread into a small smile, and he was seized with a sudden urgency he didn’t understand. His brain was screaming at him to do something without telling him what that something was.

His legs shuffled closer to Y/N without his brain’s authorization, and he half expected her to step away.

She didn’t. Instead, she tilted her chin up so she could still look into Edmund’s face.

Why didn’t she step away? He was too close to her. He knew it, and she knew it, and neither of them were stepping away. If Edmund had all his mental faculties, he’d be able to read the subtext, but her perfume…

And her eyes…

Was that a tiny scar on the underside of her chin? He’d never seen it before. Where had it come from? How old was it? He longed to ask and hear the answer, but he was afraid. For him to know where all her scars came from, and for her to know where all of his came from, it was a different kind of confidentiality.

A confidentiality Edmund didn’t feel ready for and wasn’t sure he ever would.

And yet, confidentiality or not, they would soon be in a chapel, in front of many people, swearing to love forever.

Reminded of his plan, Edmund shut his eyes and took a deliberate step back. “I have to go talk to your father.”

Y/N nodded, also taking a step back. “I’d ask if you want me to come with you, but…” she trailed off.

They both knew King Loon would respond better to hearing from Edmund alone.

“This is the right thing to do,” Edmund said as he walked over to the door to go find the king. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Y/N, but she’d turned back to face the window, her silhouette standing out from the light of the sun streaming in through the windows. “You won’t regret it,” he said softly.

He prayed to Aslan that was true.

Part 5

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

White Moves First tag list: @thelifeofsecretpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen

#narnia #chronicles of narnia #edmund #edmund fanfic #edmund fanfiction #king edmund #king edmund the just #jealous #jealousy #arranged marriage trope #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #chess #friends to lovers #arranged marriage

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