(Edmund Pevensie x Reader)
(requested by @miss-loou )
I can still feel your tongue inside me, your soft hands holding my hips.
The way your dark hair feels when I fist my hands in it, the way you lick your lips after you’re done kissing mine.
I think of your smile, as rare and as bright as starshine, and my heart lights up, because it is not rare when I am around.
When we curl up in the meadow which is just ours, and your heart beats along with mine and we’re curved into one.
There, that was my attempt at being poetic about you. Or about how you fuck me. Same difference.
That was your dare for me this week, wasn’t it, you ass? You know how awful I am at poetry- I should never have confessed that shortcoming to you. You know I’m remarkably loose-tongued after we make love- I left scars on your gorgeously freckled back last time, did I not? I remember you saying you’d flaunt them as proudly as battle scars- you smiled just the way you did after you murmured how honoured you were that I chose you to deflower me- if we were not a secret.
Dearest, I wish we were not a secret- I wish I could love you, and you could love me, in front of everyone, instead of being confined to broom cupboards and secret meadows. I love you, I love you, and I don’t care if the world knows that, because I know you do.
But- I’m afraid the world will know something else soon.
I’m not writing this letter because I love you- how I wish to say your name. My previous letters were because of that- but not this.
I’m writing this because- well, you probably already know. But I want you to know about it from me too- our relationship may be secret, but there will never be secrets between us, we promised to each other moments after you kissed me for the first time.
The marriage alliance we’ve been dreading for months- well, years for me- it’s happened. It’s struck, in parchment and paper.
Dearest, I’m to wed your brother in five weeks.
I know he tried to stop it- I know he did, he is the only one who knows about us, and he wanted to protect our relationship- but even High Kings must bow down to the need of the country.
My parents- I want to hate them, I want to loathe them, but I can’t. I know they don’t want to barter me off, but they’ve got no choice. And I can’t refuse either, because my foremost duty is to the land I will rule, and not to what lies in my heart.
I’d always known that when I marry, it would be for convenience and for politics, and accordingly, I’d closed my heart. It was easy to do so, too easy- but you came in, with your smirk and freckles and lopsided silver crown, and then-
well, you know the rest. We’re living the rest.
I would like to write more, but I can’t, I’m so tired. Emotionally- mentally- and physically too.
But we'll see each other soon. I’ll come to your castle sometime in the next fortnight- the official reason may be to confer with the one I am to marry, but we both know that the real reason is you.
That was a beautiful poem, even though it didn’t rhyme. It makes me want to hold you tight, and kiss you all over- but your breasts in particular- and hear you moan my name, and I want that be our eternity. Being with you ought to be forever.
But I know it won’t be what I want it to be. I know about the alliance, you’re right. I was in the room with my brother when he signed the document which had been sent over. He didn’t want to, you’re right- he’d been about to throw the parchment into the fire. And I wanted him to do it. But we knew he couldn’t.
But we love our countries as well. We both have a duty. Our hearts can’t rule us, nor can our heads- just the crowns on top of it. I didn’t think my heart could feel as much as you made me feel, so I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised when it breaking hurts so much.
I’m going to say it as much as I can now- in letters, to the Moon when I know you’re looking at it as well, to silent murmurs, to you when you’re lying under me, naked and breathless- to you, when we stroll the Gardens in the dark of night- to you, when you’re speaking with my brother and your fiancé. It took me a long while to say it, and I never thought I’d regret so deeply how much time I took to confess my feelings until now. I did regret it even before- but now the regret feels like as bad as any wound in battle I’ve felt.
I cannot wait to have you in my arms again, and we will speak more then- I refuse to burden you with what I feel in a letter, especially if you’re not well. We’ll get through this, my darling, I promise.
Looking out of the carriage window, Y/N hugged herself. This was the first time she was travelling alone- well, mostly. She still had a battalion of soldiers accompanying her from her country to Cair Paravel, but unlike all the times before, she was not accompanied by her parents nor by any governess.
The logic behind she being sent on her own was simple- if she was old enough to be married, she was old enough to travel on her own.
Y/N had thrown up several times during the journey, and though she had wished someone (Edmund, she had murmured in her sleep) to be there by her side during those moments- ultimately, she was grateful. Being without a companion would mean it would be easier to find time with Edmund, to be with him for as long as she could before the- the wedding.
Three more weeks and she would be a bride. Not the bride of the person she loved, but that of his brother.
“Your Highness.” Peter greeted grimly as she stepped into the courtyard of Cair Paravel. Her husband-to-be was glad to see that her arms were holding one of her suitcases, or he might have been expected to kiss her hand. “Welcome back to our castle.”
“It is very nice to meet you again, Your Majesty.” She gave him a pained smile. Even in this dreary weather, the High King looked so golden and so- so polished, it made her stomach turn. She could not imagine even kissing him, let alone spending the rest of her life with him.
She wasn’t close with the other Pevensies- the only reason she had been met Edmund, was because he had travelled to her palace for some dignitary work- and once they’d met, he had kept returning, no matter whether he had any real work there or not. She would travel to Cair Paravel too, under the pretext of maintaining cordial relations with the Kings and Queens- but the only thing she’d maintained during her stays in Narnia was her streak of snogging her lover in every imaginable location.
She swallowed- and she desperately wanted to ask where Edmund was- even if she couldn’t touch him, hold him, she wanted to see him.
Peter’s tone softened at her clear anxiety, “My brother is waiting inside to escort you to your rooms, Your Highness. If you are hungry, he can have food sent up for you- or if you wish to join us for a meal, my siblings and I take supper in a few hours-”
“I am rather tired, Your Majesty.” That wasn’t a lie, it had been a long journey, but anyone with eyes could tell that she had become alive again at the mention of Edmund- she was going to see the one she loved! “I think I will meet you and your sisters- your siblings-” she quickly corrected herself, “in the morning itself, for breakfast.”
The High King almost smiled, “If I remember anything from the last time you visited two months ago, you never wake before noon.”
Y/N allowed herself another small grin, “In the afternoon, then, for lunch. Good night, Your Majesty.”
At her curtsey, Peter bowed, and she began to walk away.
Just as she reached the door leading into the castle, however, she turned and called, “Peter?”
Surprised at being called by name, the Magnificent turned to face her and cocked his head, “Yes- Y/N?”
Her grip on her suitcase tightened, “I don’t want this, and I know you don’t want it either. And I am deeply sorry that we’ll have to go through with the-” the word ‘marriage’ died in her throat, “with the treaty regardless of what we want.”
She saw his blue eyes darken, and without waiting for his response, she fled.
Y/N threw her head back, gripping the curtains and trembling as she felt her high coming.
Edmund had his head up her skirt, his mouth and tongue at work on her most private spot, a spot only her fingers had ever worked at- it had hardly been a few moments, but she already couldn’t take it, her toes curled and her breath hitched and she dug her fingers into her waist so hard that, despite the cloth covering it, there would be marks, and-
Oh, suddenly the ecstasy she felt became unbearable, and she needed more, she needed him in her, not just his tongue licking away at her and then dashing away-
Oh, she’d come. She had come right then, in that snug little alcove they’d found themselves in- not having the patience to make it to any chambers- with her skirts up and Edmund inside them, and his mouth on her mound, and his tongue inside her- and every time she thought of his tongue, she felt like coming all over again-
She leaned her head against the wall and focused on breathing, and nothing else. She needed to come down from the dangerously high zenith she had reached, the zenith which made her want to cry and sob and laugh and giggle at all at once (though she wagered that it wasn’t just sex which made her feel all that) and which made her body feel like it was tearing apart and then being put back together in the most ecstasy-filling and soul-wrenching fission-fusion reaction there was.
Edmund poked his head out, and got to his feet, a rather silly yet proud grin on his face.
Kissing her cheek with wet lips, he spoke, “You taste delectable, my darling.”
Blushing, she wrapped her arms around him, and brought her lips close to his, “You can’t just kiss me on the cheek after a welcome like that, my dearest Silver. It’s a rather lacklustre follow-up, especially since I’ve missed you like a lost limb.”
Edmund smiled into the kiss- he had been worried that the impending nuptials with his brother would make her love for him begin to fade, but he needn’t have worried- before pulling away, “I’d be up to something much more- fulfilling as soon as we reach somewhere which actually has a door?”
“You know I’d never say no to that.” But, in spite of herself, she remembered that such would not be reality for long, and the spark in her (Y/E/C) eyes dimmed. “But we have to talk, Ed.”
“I’m usually the one to say that.” Try as he might, he couldn’t inject the least bit of humour in his words. “I know we do. I just- I wanted-“
“Blissful oblivion.” She murmured, gazing into his dark eyes. Once she had been drunk, and compared them to a starless sky. She would never understand people who thought dark eyes unattractive. “I want that too, so badly. To just melt into each other, and forget the rest of the world.”
“And you say you aren’t poetic.” A ghost of a smile flickered past the Just's handsome face. “We ought to postpone our- our serious discussion for later, though. Despite my fantastic welcome, you still look rather peaky, and you ought to rest for as long as you can.”
And he had no doubt that Peter would need to have meetings with her, and Susan would have to speak to her about the wedding- the thought made him sick- and Lucy- well, Lucy would hopefully keep both of them from going insane.
He knew he ought to tell his sisters of their relationship- he had wanted to, for so long, but now he didn’t see the point in it. Why confess something which was to end incredibly soon?
“That doesn’t sound half-bad.” She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in deep how it felt to be in his arms. This was the moment she wanted to live in. Three years ago, she never would have believed how profoundly in love she was. She had never even spared a thought for romance, despite being sixteen, the age where everyone thought of nothing but romance. “But only if you stay with me all night.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead, “I would like nothing better.”
Y/N wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or irritated when she was kept inhumanly busy over the next few days.
On one hand- despite being the one to bring up the subject, she had no wish to speak to Edmund about what she knew she must. She did not like being responsible, but nineteen years of being who she was had made her be so even when she wanted to abandon all caution.
On the other- she had zero interest in what kind of flowers would be used as centerpieces for the wedding. She loved flowers- but she did not give a flying fuck about them then. Perhaps if she was marrying someone else, she would’ve cared and wouldn’t have snuck away once Queen Susan had looked the other way- but for this wedding, there could be cabbages as centerpieces, and she could be wearing a potato sack, and she simply wouldn’t bat an eye.
Of course, Peter hadn’t been asked to contribute to the wedding preparations at all, even though he was the groom. No one had asked him whether he wouldn’t wear his crown or not, or about whether he would tie his hair back or keep it loose, or even about what colour undergarments he was wearing!
(Yes, she’d been asked that last. Apparently, wearing golden garments was auspicious.)
She had hardly even seen her husband-to-be- calling him that always made her nauseated, and she’d even puked several times after sessions with Susan- because he was busy with the politics of it all.
And as the politics had lots of paperwork, Edmund was busy as well- he loved paperwork, he'd told her the previous night, but for this particular thing, he just wished all the parchment were back to being trees.
Beyond quick, stolen moments before meetings, or tired, half-hearted embraces before heading in to sleep, they had spent little to no time together. She did not know if it was deliberate- she’d had to speak with or send letters to every possible high-born person, etc., she could remember- sometimes for business, sometimes for pleasure, all times she hated- but she had never had to confer with Edmund. Queens Susan and Lucy she spoke with daily, King Lune from Archenland had arrived at Cair Paravel to stay until the wedding, she had written to Kidrash Tarkaan from Calormen, the Archduchess of Galma, as well as to High Lords of the Lone Islands she hadn’t even known existed- but she was not told, even once, to interact with the King whose roof she was staying under.
It occurred to her only then that perhaps the Cair Paravel rumour mill had begun churning out gossip about the Just King and the Princess of (Y/C/N)- and perhaps the rumours had reached royal ears.
“I think people know about us.” Y/N whispered, rushing up to Edmund, who’d been carrying a mass of paperwork in his hands and walking across the hallway she’d been loitering in- she was avoiding Lucy, who had tried to take her cake-tasting. She loved food- she ate more than Peter and Edmund combined, usually- but she had a feeling the tasting would just end up in her throwing up- which she had, again, that very morning. She’d even started getting random pains and fevers, so she was avoiding anything which deviated from her norm.
Edmund jumped, almost dropping the papers, before turning to her. He had been so preoccupied, he hadn’t even noticed the love of his life walking towards him.
“What?” He was quite at the end of his tether, he did not need more bombshells dropped on him- he had had to send handwritten invites to over two hundred guests! “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, taking some of the papers from his hands- her poor King was nearly drowning under them, and she had plenty of practice carrying heavy books from the Library to her bedchambers.
“I just thought it was weird that I haven’t had an official consultation with you yet. Heaven knows I’ve had it with the rest of the world-”
He frowned, “It is strange, I agree. But the rumours of you and I have been around for two years, since we got caught out in the rain that time.”
Y/N smiled at the memory, “You said you’d make me wetter than the rain, and you lived up to your words.”
“My tongue is for more than just diplomacy, and I wanted the first time of me going down on you to be romantic.” He smirked at her, though the tips of his ears had turned red. “Anyway, I think it’s just a coincidence, and you needn’t worry about the rumours. The staff here love a secret romance.”
“Makes me think such a thing has happened before?”
“Oh, yes. Peter and Lord Peridan were the hot topic of all of last year, because their embrace after a council meeting lasted longer than two seconds.” Edmund had to laugh. “Both of them didn’t look each other in the eye for months.”
“I think they would make an adorable couple, to be honest.” Y/N mused- it was like that time there were rumours that she and one of the elder Tarkheenas were courting. If she hadn’t already been besotted by Edmund by that time, she would’ve wished that were true- Mumtaz was absolutely stunning. “But that is a weight off my paining shoulders.”
“If I get done with all this before midnight-” The King grimaced at the mass of papers, “I can come by your chambers, and give you a shoulder-rub?”
“Counter-offer-” She stepped close to him, and the papers were the only reason she couldn’t wrap her arms around him, “you abandon the paperwork, and come with me right now, and I’ll show you that my mouth is as good as your tongue? And then shoulder-rub?”
“Darling, I already know about how skilled your mouth is.” But the offer was enticing- mouth or not, he ached to spend time with Sanya. And taking one night off from paperwork wouldn’t mean the end of the world... “But alright, you little bad influence. I have missed you this past week.”
And it wasn’t like he would be able to be with her for long- the wedding was in two weeks, and it sickened him to think of it. He wanted to spend as much time with her as he could.
“I do love it when you’re on top.” Edmund murmured into Y/N’s (Y/H/C) hair, as she trailed kisses down his shoulder and chest. She liked it when he was on top, and he was always most willing to oblige- her expressions as he kissed her breasts, as he thrust into her, as she shuddered apart because of him, were art, and he longed to paint them. But sometimes, she liked changing things up, and he was certainly not averse to that either. “I’m talking too much again, aren’t I?”
“Not to worry,” Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, and she sucked at the freckles over his heart, “I like hearing your voice. Especially when we’re in bed.”
And, for once, they actually were in a bed.
He didn’t answer, his lips curving into a smile as he felt her touch- her lips were as light as feathers upon his pale skin, and he didn’t think he was ever as relaxed as when he had her with him. It almost made him forget about-
He suddenly let out a gasp, and without knowing what he was doing, he grabbed at Y/N’s arm- though his reflex wasn’t necessary, as she’d paused what she was doing as soon as she’d heard his strangled gasp.
“What is it?” The love of his life asked worriedly, looking up at him in worry. He’d gone even whiter than usual, and his dark eyes seemed to have something- strange in them. “Ed? Ed, are you alright?”
With an effort, he managed to speak, “Y- yes.” He swallowed, and continued, “It's just that you- er- you kissed my scar.”
“You have many scars.” She had them too, but she’d got hers while tripping over stuff, while he had got them in battle. She couldn’t understand what had caused him to react like this. “I’ve kissed them before- hell, you’ve asked me to kiss them before-”
“Yes, because they’re ugly, and you make me feel like they’re beautiful.” He took a deep breath, before intertwining his fingers with hers. It had been years- he needn’t be so defensive, and he shouldn’t have grabbed her like that. She meant only well, she always had. “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to clutch at you like that. I just- I-”
She rolled off him, and laid her head on his naked shoulder. She wasn’t sure, but part of her felt that- “Is this scar to do with your first battle?”
He laid his arm over her and pulled her closer, “How did you know?”
“I know you, dearest.” He had always hesitated speaking of before he had been crowned. She gathered that he didn’t have a pretty past, and she had never pressed him about it. Still, her curiosity was high, and she couldn’t help but ask, “How did you get that scar? The one on your stomach? The one that always feels so cold, no matter the weather?”
Edmund was silent for the longest time. Even in his darkest moments, he never liked to think of that incident- he had spoken about it with his siblings, once or twice, but they had been short conversations, and no one had brought it up again.
“I was stabbed.” The words hung in the air, but he didn’t give her the chance to question it. Once he’d started, he would not stop until he had finished. And he told her, right from the beginning- how he had been a wretched bully in Spare Oom, how Lucy had found Narnia inside War Drobe, how he had made fun of her, how he had entered Narnia and met the White Witch, how he had been infatuated with her and her Turkish Delight, how he had lied and cheated and betrayed for her and then been kept captive till he was rescued by Aslan, how the Witch came to demand his blood- a traitor’s blood for her property- but the Great Aslan sacrificed Himself instead; and then, finally, the battle they had fought against the Witch, where Edmund had realised that in order to even try to defeat the Witch, her wand had to be broken, how he had done so but the Witch had stabbed him with her spear, and he had nearly died in the process- how he had been brought back from the brink of death by Lucy’s healing cordial-
“I know the rest.” He had been crowned as King after the battle, and he had spoken before about how insecure and unworthy he’d felt about his position.
She cupped his face, and made him look at her, something he had been avoiding through his monologue. He rarely cried, just like her, but there were other ways to show emotion, and his eyes were so intense and filled with so much pain, she wished she could do something- anything, to make him better.
“You are the best man I know.” She spoke simply, because what she spoke was the plain truth. “You are worthy of all good things in your life, and you have redeemed yourself so wonderfully, Narnia should be overwhelmed with pride at having you as her King- and this-” her finger traced the cold jagged scar at his stomach, “this just shows your strength, my love. It is not something to be ashamed about.”
His grip on her hand tightened, “But being a traitor is.”
“I think you’re forgetting about your redemption, and the fact that you have been an incredible King and a beautiful person, inside and out, since that battle. What you did when you were twelve doesn’t define you, Edmund.”
Again, he didn’t answer. Whatever he would say as a response, however he would degrade himself next- she would find a way to make him the hero of the story, she would paint him to be better than he was, and that wasn’t her job. She deserved better-
And with a pang, he remembered that she was going to get someone better.
She was going to get someone magnificent.
“I think I’d have preferred to talk about your upcoming nuptials more than this.”
Y/N closed her eyes, “No. I don’t even want to think about that. I want to pretend it won’t happen, that that was just something I dreamed of in a nightmare- that this, you, us, is my actual future. Not being your brother’s consort.”
“But he would make you happy, Mauve.” He rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand. “I know he would. He would try his best-”
“But I don’t want him to try!” She wrenched her hand away from him and sat up, her (Y/E/C) eyes flashing. “I don’t want him at all!”
Did he not understand it? That Peter may be the best King in the world, a Golden Boy who would put the Sun itself to shame- but she would still never want him. It was Edmund she wanted- his dark eyes, his darkness, his wisdom, his sarcasm, his growl whenever she gave him a lovebite- him, him, him.
Straddling him, she grabbed his hands, and laid them on her breasts. The expression on his face flickered- he was torn, between desire and despair, lust and loss.
“I never wanted love. I never thought I would be allowed to have it. My parents fell in love before they married- and do you know how many times that has happened in my family line? Apart from them, never. It has always been a marriage of convenience, and it has never begat anything more than respect between the spouses. But you. I love you so fucking much it hurts. I crave you- in a way I thought I’d only ever read about. You-” his finger flicked her right nipple, and she rolled her hips, both of them unable to bite back moans, “you are my greatest love, and my only love. Damn Peter, damn everyone else. I’m yours, and that’s it.”
“Y/N. My darling, my loveliest.” Edmund lowered his hands from her breasts, and brought it down to her waist, pulling her down so that her body was flush against his. He didn’t know what to say- she had said it all. He tried to make himself care about their situation- that she was to be his sister by law, that she was to be his brother’s wife, but all he could think was the same mantra he thought of whenever she was on his mind- which was, usually, always. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“That girl will keel over, Susan!” Peter hissed, as he saw his- as he saw Y/N slump down into a bench in the Gardens. Taking his sister’s hand, he guided her to somewhere away from earshot of all the people who were setting up the Gardens for the wedding next week. “She looks more sickly than Lucy whenever she has to eat beans-”
“Don’t you think I know that!?” Susan hissed right back, jabbing her finger into his chest. “I have been telling her to calm down, take it easy- and she would’ve, too, since she has as much interest in this wedding as that rosebush does- but since her parents arrived day before, she’s thrown herself into it.”
“One would think she would want to spend time with her parents before-” Oh, he was never going to be able to say it. “Before next week.”
“No, one would think that she is avoiding her parents so that they don’t realise that she’s having an affair with her fiancé's brother.”
Peter gaped at her, but Susan waved his shock away, “Edmund actually smiles whenever she visits. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Even Lucy suspects, I think.”
“And those two thought they were being so smart and sneaky.” He sighed, but smiled ruefully at her. “Who do you think has got the worst end of the stick?”
“Me, because I have to plan a whole wedding, when the groom is angry with everyone, the bride is depressed about everything, and- that damned faun just won’t get the trellis right!” Her reply rose to a shout, and the Gentle was about to stomp to give that faun a piece of her mind- when there was a loud growl from behind, and both of them turned, to see a Tigress backing away from the bride-to-be, who had fallen off the bench and then emptied the contents of her stomach into the aforementioned rosebush.
“That’s it.” Peter muttered- never mind the anger or the depression or the reluctance, he was not about to let the girl drive herself to death over a stupid alliance- and he began to head to her, when someone else swooped over the bent Princess, taking her in his arms.
“It’s okay!” Edmund called out to the audience which had gathered, half in worry for the Princess and half in curiosity, and he helped Y/N to her feet. “I’ve got her-” His eyes locked with his brother’s, who had seemed to have the same intention he did, “I’ve got her. I’ll take her to a Healer- you all, you- er- carry on.”
“I’m alright.” Y/N murmured- she just felt a bit lightheaded, that was all. And she’d been throwing up for a month now, it wasn’t a big deal. “Ed- Ed, it’s fine-”
For once in his life, Edmund did not pay her words any heed, and he did not speak at all until he had sat her down in the Head Healer's office, demanding that she check what illness his love was suffering from.
Though, of course, he did not mention the ‘his love’ part.
“Illness?” Doctor Clarille frowned, as she felt the young Princess’s temperature. “It’s not an illness, Your Majesty.”
“What?” Edmund balked. He wasn’t well-versed in medicine, but he was quite sure that people didn’t go around puking and getting fevers for no reason. “Then why is she- well, why is she not healthy?”
But the healer ignored him, and knelt down in front of Y/N, who stared at her defiantly- she did not like going to healers- and spoke clearly, even though what she was to ask would embarrass the girl, “Your Highness. Have you been having relations?”
“What?” Y/N blinked. “I’m a Princess. I have to maintain political relations with everyone-”
“No, no.” Children were taught no common sense these days. “I meant sexual relations, Your Highness. Love-making, the romantics call it- intercourse, too, the more practical people call it-”
“Oh.” And she blushed a deep red, just like the roses she had thrown up in. Taking care to not look at Edmund, she shook her head, “Um. No. I’m a maiden, Doctor.”
“No, you’re unmarried. There’s a difference.” The healer’s lips frowned. “Your Highness, I am very sure that you are with child, and that you’ve not been eating much lately, both of which has been affecting your health adversely. Now, you aren’t more than three or so months along, and usually I don’t order expecting mothers for bedrest until the last trimester of the pregnancy, but clearly you-”
“Darling, soothe yourself.” Edmund was at her side, his hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down- while, inwardly, he was screaming too. With child? His child? She was- he was-
“No, Silver.” She buried her face in her hands. So much for being responsible! She was fucking her fiancé’s brother, and now she was having his child! Out of wedlock! She would be disowned- she would be made to abdicate her crown- because of one baby-
A baby. She was going to have Edmund’s baby.
Peeking at the healer from between her fingers, she asked quietly, “Are you sure?”
“Oh, yes.” The healer seemed much too cheery, considering the two in front of her looked like they were at a funeral. “I've assisted many pregnancies- usually animal, or faun, but I know human ones as well. The signs are quite obvious, once you know what to look for. Hm, Your Highness, shall I send for High King Peter?”
“No!” Edmund said, just as Y/N's head raised in alarm. They shared a quick glance, and he went on, “No. No, Doctor. I- I don’t think Peter needs to know.”
Doctor Clarille looked perplexed, “I understand wanting to keep such a thing a secret- but the High King has a right to-”
“The High King is not the father.” Y/N said dully, before reaching out and taking Edmund’s hand. This was the first time that their relationship had not been kept in the shadows, but brought out in the light- and she liked it. As much as she loved making love to him behind closed doors- holding his hand in front of their loved ones seemed nice as well. “The Just King is.”
Edmund’s eyes widened, but he didn’t let her hand go, “Er, Y/N, was that wise-”
“They’ll figure it out in six months when the baby doesn’t have golden hair or blue eyes.” She shrugged. Perhaps she should just go into the balcony of the Throne Room and yell that the Just King and she had been having an affair, and now they were having a child. “Do you think Peter will raise his brother’s child?”
“Excuse me, the brother in question is still in the picture.” He tapped her cheek with his other hand, as the doctor sank back into her chair, amused with their interaction. “And I intend to be by your side through everything, for as long as we live, and be as hands-on of a- a father as I can.”
“My parents are going to kill us.” Y/N said, but there was a sudden joy spreading through her body, and she found that she did not care about what her parents thought or about her duty as much as she had. “Or, more likely, just you.”
“Probably.” Edmund shrugged, kneeling and taking her hand in both of his.
The healer rubbed at her chin, “Does this mean that the wedding is off, Your Highness?”
“Probably.” Y/N shrugged- a baby changed everything. A child born of the Just King and the (Y/C/N) Princess was a far stronger way to maintain an alliance than a marriage between the High King and the Princess.
The answer was, however, given absently, as she was rather focused on her lover, who had gone down on one knee. He only ever knelt when he was about to make love to her with his tongue, and so his action puzzled her.
Edmund smiled- this was the first time, in possibly ever, that he was doing something without caring a fig about the consequences, “Will you marry me, darling?”
The ending was a bit off, I know- I just wanted to leave it open-ended, but also hopefully for our Y/N and her King :)
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