in which every chapter is better than the one before

[called_lioness]

She has some things in the room-that-was-hers, still, really, but most of them--nearly all, if Lucy thinks on it--are in the room-that-is-theirs, now.

And she's glad of it, because she's no interest in carrying things about tonight, as they both step through the painting and she looks over at Caspian, eyes a little tired and a great deal pleased.

Because they're home.

And that alone is enough for all to be right with the world.

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[the_seafarer]

No sooner do they step into the room--like so many other times, and yet not in the least like them--then Caspian has turned and wrapped his arms around her.

"My wife," he murmurs into her hair, a little dizzily pleased by the way that sounds.

[called_lioness]

"I think I shall never tire of hearing you say that, my husband," she whispers and rests her head on his shoulder.

[the_seafarer]

"No doubt one day," he tells her, but he can't seem to stop smiling, pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her waist.

[called_lioness]

"Not ever," she insists with a laugh as she looks up at him.

"You didn't tell me you were going to take my name." It's said with a little wonder and a large smile.

[the_seafarer]

He ducks his head a little, coloring.

"I--wasn't sure what else I could give you."

[called_lioness]

She ducks her head as well and crouches a bit, so she can look up at him, grinning.

"I hadn't thought you would. But--I think Caspian Pevensie sounds very fine indeed."

[the_seafarer]

"So it sounds to me, also," he says, and looks up before leaning in to kiss her firmly.

[called_lioness]

The kiss grows deeper, and a bit fierce, because now not anyone could say she's no right to kiss him as she pleases, before she pulls away and takes a breath, fingers running through his hair as she smiles at him.

"I wish I'd known. I could've gotten you monogrammed towels as a gift," she teases.

[the_seafarer]

"They wouldn't have lasted a day with the twins, anyway," he grins, pushing a few stray golden hairs out of her face.

[called_lioness]

"Probably not," she agrees and just stares at him with wonder still in her face, still smiling, though it fades into something more serious than a grin.

"You're my husband," Lucy says again, finally, very softly.

[the_seafarer]

"For now and always and ever," he says, resting their foreheads together, his fingers lacing together at the small of her back.

[called_lioness]

She just looks at him and traces her fingertips along his cheekbones, lightly, before kissing him again. "And I thank God for that."

[the_seafarer]

"I thank you," he says. "For it was you who accepted me."

[called_lioness]

"At such a high price," half-teasinging and half-not, "that you accept me in turn."

Her hands drop enough that she can smoothe his tunic, looking at him still.

"I've nothing so fine to give you," and it's apologetic, "as taking a name."

[the_seafarer]

"You've given me yourself," he tells her, and it's still amazing and wonderful and a little frightening.

"There's nothing more you need give."

[called_lioness]

"It was never about need," she points out, but the answer he gives gets him a soft kiss as she fingers the hem of his tunic before carefully slipping it over his head and stepping away to fold it neatly and set it aside.

"I have something, anyway."

[the_seafarer]

He rests his hand on her back when she turns, on the gleaming white cloth, and Susan did a nice job of it. A beautiful job.

"No, I suppose it wasn't," he agrees, and starts to loosen her gown carefully.

[called_lioness]

She feels him start to untie her gown and Lucy smiles again, faintly, and when the ties have all been undone helps him slip the top bit over her head.

"You were, though," she admits as she leans back against his chest and looks over her shoulder at him. "Needed, I mean."

Were. Are. Will be.

[the_seafarer]

"As I need you," he murmurs into her hair, and his hands rest at her sides, and when she looks up at him, he bends his head to kiss her, because she's there and he can. And because there is nothing in this or any world that he loves quite so much as Lucy.

[called_lioness]

She kisses him back as if it were the same for her, that there's none loved the way she loves him.

Perhaps because it's true.

And then Lucy turns and gently begins to undo his pants, bending to pull them off his feet one at a time, and when she stands she folds them just as neatly. "Your gift," she continues as she matches seam to seam, "is under the bed." The twins, she was certain, would have kept him from looking there.

It's only a scrapbook, but it has pictures Lucy tried to take, best she could, of those dear to him.

Because she can't give him a child, but this is their family, and she can give him pictures of it.

[the_seafarer]

He drops a kiss onto her shoulder, and walks to to bed to look beneath while she folds his clothes, and it strikes him that perhaps he should be feeling rather more embarrassed about walking about virtually naked, but she's his wife now, may it do ya fine, and nothing they do can be called wrong any longer.

The present is flat and hard and when he pulls it out and flips through the pages, there is silence. His eyes, looking through images of the dear faces, are very bright, and not only with joy.

"Lu..." he says, very softly, and turns another page.

[called_lioness]

She doesn't answer immediately. Instead, Lucy finishes folding the clothes and slips the skirt off, hanging it neatly over a chair. It's quick enough to finish undressing and pull a nightgown on before walking over to stand behind him and look over his shoulder. (And there's no embarrasment or shame, really, not any more, not with him.)

"It's what I could give you," she says quietly and strokes his arm gently as she kisses his cheek.

[the_seafarer]

"It's perfect," he says, and tips his head back to kiss her. As he does so, he notices something else: that Lucy is still wearing white, but that it is a vastly different outfit. He turns a little, to run his eyes over it approvingly.

"You changed."

[called_lioness]

"So I did," she agrees and leans in to kiss him again.

"Do you like it?" His gaze had really been answer enough in a way, but she asks anyway.

[the_seafarer]

He turns fully and pulls her tightly up against his own body, still kneeling there on the floor of the bedroom.

"I like it," he says, between kisses down her neck, "very much."

[called_lioness]

She sighs at each kiss and smiles widely as her hand runs down his back.

"I'd thought you might. We need to write Lilly's thank you note first."

She's not entirely sure how that one will be phrased, yet, but it will very much be meant.

[the_seafarer]

"No," he says, firmly, and puts an arm behind Lucy's legs and the other behind her back and stands, lifting her up and looking at her with a smile quirking his mouth.

"The thank-you note can wait."

[called_lioness]

"That, my love," she murmurs as she pulls him down for a kiss, "is an excellent plan."

It's a soft kiss, really, and gentler than most, or at least starts that way, but she continues it like she'll never need to breathe again.

She's not sure, as long as she's doing this, that she ever will, really.

[the_seafarer]

They do, of course (it's one of the ironies of being dead at Milliways), but then he's put her down on the bed and slid onto it himself and for a while they just lie there, pressed up against each, with his hand at her waist and when he has stopped kissing her, their faces are still very close together, close enough to breathe the same air.

"I love you," he tells her, and then begins to smile again. "We're married." They've said it dozens of times now, and he still can hardly believe it.

[called_lioness]

"Aye," she says softly and trails fingers down his arm to his hand, where they stop to trace his ring.

She doesn't know that she can think of anything so beautiful as to see it on his hand.

"And a better husband I couldn't find, I think, if I'd been actively looking for one." Lucy smiles as her eyes look back up at his face.

"You're rather stuck with me forever, now."

[the_seafarer]

"I may have been the only one, still, to propose while you were dressed as a boy," he reminds her, and brings her hand up to kiss the ring and the finger which it rests on.

"And, my Lucy, I don't mean to go anywhere without you ever again. So I rather think that is the finest thing to ever happen to me."

[called_lioness]

"Likely," she allows and smiles more widely at the kiss.

Her eyes are a little serious, though, as she moves her hand to touch his cheek. "Even if we should--if something should happen, and we're parted--in the end, I'll find you," she concludes, and leans over to kiss him.

When she continues, it's against his mouth and with a slightly wicked grin as she murmurs, "You say it's the finest thing because you haven't truly started your wedding night yet," eyes bright and laughing.

[the_seafarer]

He laughs a little, low and breathless at her kiss, and his hands squeeze at her hips.

"You have something else in mind for me, my lady?" he teases, pulling her gently towards him so that their legs tangle together.

[called_lioness]

"Mmm," she agrees and rolls him onto his back so she can look down at him, grinning yet and not certain she'll ever stop.

"I thought about asking Lilly for ideas," she says, nonchalantly, as she traces pictures on his chest.

[the_seafarer]

He looks up at her, and slides his hands along her sides, down her legs, gently.

"Well, I daresay she's had some good ideas in the past," he admits. A little resignedly.

[called_lioness]

"True," she agrees and bends to kiss his forehead.

"But she started talking about tying to the bed, and I didn't think you'd want to try that, somehow, and was afraid of what else she might suggest."

[the_seafarer]

He looks a little startled, and then laughs.

"Aye, mayhap we'd best put that idea to the side for now."

[called_lioness]

"Haven't a clue how it would work, anyway," she says cheerfully as she looks down at him, and the fingers on his chest trace out love. "In the end, I decided I could always ask her later.

"But I have plans, aye. To not let you sleep any time soon is a large part of them." It's teasing, and it's not, as there's something in her eyes that's simple desire. "If that's all right with you."

[the_seafarer]

"I'm not that tired anyhow," he says, and there's an answering blaze of heat in his own eyes, in his fingers and along his chest.

[called_lioness]

"I'm very please, my lord, to hear that," she laughs, and bends her head to kiss the warm chest, mouth slowly moving across it. It's a familiar path, byt now, really, and she knows which spots to linger at, but it fills her with the same delight each time she presses another kiss.

She wouldn't, really, have it any other way, she thinks, though part of her...

Part of her is ever Lucy who was born in 1931, and that part is never gone, and that's the part that never thought this night would happen this way.

Her voice is muffled, a little, by the skin of his breast and then his stomach, but not so much it's hard to understand, not really. "Are you sorry that we didn't wait?"

[the_seafarer]

He cups her cheek in his hand, and looks at her for a long moment, and Caspian's face, however young it may look, never does quite look like that of a boy of seventeen.



"No," he says, softly. "Truth be told, Lucy, I believe I took you as my wife, if only in thought and not in name or deed that first night that we promised not to leave each other. I found no wrong in our love together.


"Are you?"

[called_lioness]

She doesn't answer immediately, just looks at him and thinks on it.

"When I woke up," she says, slowly, "the first time after we slept together--I felt a little like I'd failed, somehow. Without quite knowing what. Maybe only what my parents would have had from me. I suppose I felt so for a while, but when you woke up and looked at me--it wasn't awkward, not really. Not like I thought it would be, even though I was naked. And so I felt a little like I'd failed, but I didn't care, either. Not at all." She leans over to kiss him, firmly, and then to kiss his ear and continue. "It mattered, what we did today. But you are my husband, and have been for months, say true, without any ceremony except a promise between us. And I am not sorry for anything I've ever shared with you. If you and I had never formally wed, I wouldn't be sorry."

[the_seafarer]

He listens, solemnly, and when she moves to kiss along his shoulder, his hands comes to her face, gently but firmly turning her head until they are looking at each other once again.


"I love you," he says, and it's as much of a promise as the vows he gave her earlier.

"My lady wife."

[called_lioness]

She leans forward to touch his forehead with her own after a moment and just looks at him, and for once, her face isn't tired at all, only perfectly content.

"And I you. With all that I am, I love you."

It isn't even a promise, it's just a statement.

You don't have to promise that the sun will rise in the east; it just is always so.

"And that is why," she whispers, "I never regretted any of it."

[the_seafarer]

He draws her down to him, then, and stops her mouth with his own.

And--

[called_lioness]

--she's on the Dawn Treader, watching the waves over the deck, which isn't so high up on her as it was when the voyage started, not really.

Caspian comes up next to her and they talk for a while, about Eustace's sulking and about her own world and about things back in Narnia, and then they say nothing, and watch the sun set.

And the stars come out, and Lucy looks back at them with him and says, softly, "There's the leopard," glancing over at him as she points.

He's looking at the sky, not at her, and for a moment--for a moment--

for a moment Lucy remembers just how old she is, and how much it hurts to be a woman in a little girl's body again, and when she looks back up she sees a star falling and wishes that someday she'll be just right and so will he--

--and in the bar, another star falls and goes out, as Lucy's hands drift lower and Caspian's mouth moves from her own to her neck--

and then, well--

[called_lioness]

--well, really.

Everyone deserves some privacy on their wedding night.