Hellou 'u' how you doing? I recently have been obssessed with edmund from chronicles of narnia and I've been wondering if you could write something with him!!
Maybe something where reader and edmund are married for a year now now, and reader is very skilled with other things but not really when it comes to fights, with swords, bow and arrows and shit of any type like these, and that never *really* bothered her until there's another kingdom visiting Cair Paravel and there's this female knight with them. Edmund is the battle commander so he's often training the other guards, so when reader sees edmund and her fight like the others while training and realizes this woman has the skill and bravado she doesn't has, she starts to worry if edmund might have been impresses enough to also do this comparison.
(but of course my boy later comforts saying there's no problem with my not knowing how to fight because he likes protecting me🙈)
'there will come a soldier' - edmund pevensie x reader
masterlist
You were betrothed to Edmund Pevensie a couple of years ago, and it has never bothered you until now. You like Edmund perfectly well, of course; in fact, as far as arranged husbands go, you’re pretty sure you got the best one there is. You grew up a princess in a neighboring country to Narnia, expecting to be married off for diplomatic reasons when you came of age. Horrified by stories of elderly suitors or war-like royals, you were delighted when you first met Edmund. He was kind to you, friendly enough, and clever in a way that made every one of your conversations fascinating.
Needless to say, it was no great sorrow to go with him to Cair Paravel. Frankly, you’re fairly certain that you would have chosen Edmund as your husband even without the political strings in place. He simply clicked with you in a way you’d never found before. The two of you were two sides of the same coin, smart and scheming, capable and kind. You married a few months after your engagement and you’ve been quite happy ever since. Edmund and the rest of his siblings trust you wholeheartedly, enough to welcome you to their council sessions to plan the course of their country. Many times, your wit has come in handy to find the best way out of a difficult situation, even when it seemed certain that the only options available would cost you.
For that reason, you’d come to feel secure in your place by Edmund’s side. As time went on, the two of you got along swimmingly, and before you knew it, you were married to him for a year, then more. It felt right being with him, trading thoughts back and forth, ruminating and talking and laughing late into the night as ideas crossed your mind. You’d heard from past friends that this sort of stability wasn’t something to be taken for granted; many a king and queen had some sort of disagreement or blind side where they couldn’t get along, and you were grateful that you and Edmund never seemed to have that sort of gap. You meshed perfectly.
Or, that’s what you thought until a delegation from Archenland came to pay Narnia a visit. The Pevensies had been working on fostering a diplomatic relationship with this neighboring kingdom for ages, but, separated by a mountain range, it had been difficult to keep up strong connections. Ultimately, the rulers of Archenland had decided that an in-person visit would be the best way to secure their connection, and sent a party of scholars, a few expendable royals, and a score of accompanying soldiers with them. You’d hosted a grand reception for your guests the night of their arrival, and later both you and Edmund privately decided that the visitors from Archenland were good people, if quiet, and well worth the labors of mountain-range communication.
The next day, Edmund had decided to test his swordsmanship skills against the knights who had traveled with the party as a show of goodwill, whereas you passed many happy hours in discussions and debates with some of the scholars. During your nightly review, you had been quite pleased to mention the novelty and robustness of the ideas set forth by the Archenland scholars, assuming Edmund would be appreciative of the deliberations and offer to join you the next day.
Instead, Edmund gushed with just as much fervor about the knights he’d sparred with that day. Apparently, he had only intended to spend an hour or two in swordplay with the representatives from Archenland, but had ended up passing most of the day in their company, and hoped to do the same tomorrow as well.
At first, you’d thought nothing of it. Edmund is an excellent swordfighter, in no small part due to the hundreds of hours he’d spent sparring with his siblings and the knights of Narnia since his youth. In fact, you’d offered to stop by and greet the knights while they were at practice the next day, since they had clearly made a favorable impact on your husband. Edmund readily agreed, and the matter was settled.
So, the next day, you had excused yourself from the scholars’ talks around midmorning and headed towards the training yards, where the clashing of steel and shouts of encouragement could be heard far before you laid eyes on the fighter. At first, you can’t immediately spot Edmund among the many knights in fighting gear, and look around to search for him.
The Narnian captain of the guard drifts over to you soon enough, greeting you with a respectful bow before gesturing to a pair of fighters sparring in the center of the yard. “If you’re looking for King Edmund, he’s there, my lady. Fighting one of the foreign knights, I believe.”
You thank him, and turn your eyes towards Edmund. You can’t help but admire the confidence of his step, the ease with which he ducks and parries the relentless attacks from his opponent. A glance there, a sidestep here, and he figures out the knight’s strategy, diving under a feint to score a blow to the shoulder in a moment. You smile in spite of yourself, happy to see him in his element, but the expression freezes on your face when you take a better look at Edmund’s opponent.
You hadn’t been paying attention at first, but on second glance you realize that the knight from Archenland is a woman. Narnia also has female knights, this is nothing out of the ordinary, it’s just that this woman is very good at swordfighting, and so is Edmund, and it occurs to you as you watch the two of them spin and slash in perfect harmony that you have finally found the chink in your armor. Yes, you have always been able to match Edmund in a battle of wits, or balance empathy with cleverness in a way that impresses him, but you have never been a true master of swordfighting, nor will you ever become one. Edmund, however, very much is, and so is this knight.
It’s not like you’re an utter failure at swordplay. As a royal, you were trained to defend yourself, and in a survival situation, you’re fairly sure you could put up a halfway decent fight if the situation required it. It’s just that spending hours upon hours every day sweating it out in the hot sun just to earn the glory of some skinned knees and light gashes had never been your idea of a perfect activity. You’d much rather spend time in the cool of the library, learning things your parents’ generation had forgotten, mastering languages, or practicing strategy. You’re good at these things. They make you a valuable part of the crown. But this, the fighting, this is where you fall short.
Looking at this strange woman effortlessly matching Edmund at his own game, you realize there’s a stark difference between a knight and yourself, and for the first time, you wonder if Edmund has realized this too. What if he thought this to himself at night when you were first betrothed, that you were a nice girl and smart, too, but you’d never be able to challenge him in a swordfight? Did he consider that a drawback to the benefit of your mind and heart? Surely he’s thinking it now, watching a woman who can meet him in this skill.
Your smile feels painful now, but you force it anyway. You may not be able to fight with a sword as well as a mystery knight or your husband, but you’re brilliant at diplomacy, damn it, and you’ve got a job to do. You start to make your way around the training yard, greeting the other knights from Archenland, praising them on their skill and thanking them again for coming across the mountains to Narnia. Everywhere you go, everyone you talk to, you see smiles appear and eyes light up, you see respect earned, because you’re a good queen even if you can’t master a parry or counter-strike. You’re still good. You’re still something.
A voice from behind you; turning, you realize Edmund has finally finished his bout and is hurrying over to you now. It warms your heart to see him so delighted to find you, until you realize that the female knight is one step behind him, and your stomach turns.
“Y/N,” Edmund says happily, unaware of the forces pulling your heart down into your ribs, “You made it! What do you think of the fights?”
“I think they’re wonderful,” you say honestly, and to the woman behind him, “Truly, Archenland has sent its finest. We thank you for the demonstration of your skills.”
Edmund turns, as if he’d almost forgotten the woman was there. “Oh, yes, of course. You saw our match, then? This is Sir Lann de Roet. She’s one of the most decorated knights of Archenland.”
“I can understand why,” you tell her. “Your bout was quite impressive.”
Sir Lann beams at you. “Thank you, my lady. Truly, I must return the complaint to King Edmund. He is quite the opponent.”
You smile at that, and you almost think you’ve managed to handle the gnawing jealousy in your stomach before Sir Lann turns back to you. “Edmund tells me that swordfighting is quite appreciated here in Narnia. Will I be able to see you in a match before our visit is up?”
In a moment, your face freezes, and you have to force a polite laugh. “No, I’m afraid not. My talents mainly lie in strategy, not battle.”
Sir Lann nods politely, but you can see a question rising in her eyes, as is silently asking what a swordsmaster like your husband could possibly find interesting in a wife like you if you had no interest in the blade. Worse still, Edmund just stands there. He doesn’t do something as awful as laugh at the question of you picking up a sword, but he doesn’t defend you either.
This time, even your royal training deserts you. “My most sincere apologies, but I must return to the castle. I’ve abandoned my guests in the study for too long as is, I would hate to keep them waiting. It was splendid to see you training, I wish you strength in the bouts to come.”
You incline your head to Sir Lann, then begin to hasten off to the comfort of the keep. Edmund hurries after you, face falling. “You aren’t going to stay? But Y/N, you only just got here. I thought you could watch a little bit more.”
“I’m sorry,” you whisper back, smile digging into your cheeks as you try to preserve the appearance that nothing is wrong, “I really must be going, though. Maybe I can come back another time.”
It’s a hollow promise, though, and Edmund knows it. He nods, crestfallen, and his hand twitches at his side as if he’d like to reach out to you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he turns and goes back to the knights, back to the people who speak this language of steel and blood that you cannot understand. You rejoin the scholars, who are delighted to see you back, but you’re more quiet than usual, even when the debates shift to topics you find intriguing. You just can’t shake the fear that Edmund will spend all of this diplomatic visit fighting with Sir Lann, appreciating her natural ability with the sword, and then come home to you and realize how little you have in common.
After the colloquium with the scholars, you meet with the royals again, then hold a dinner for the Archenland delegation and key members of your council and the Narnian nobles. It’s a success, but goes on for hours, and by the time you’re finally free to retreat to your chamber for the evening, you find yourself quite exhausted. Edmund, by contrast, is practically giddy as he details the new strategies he’d learned, the strange moves practiced by the Archenland guard, the strength of their knights, and so on. You just lie there on the bed you share, listening to him talk, and wondering if Edmund says all this because he wishes you’d be able to meet him out there on the training yard, or because he knows you can’t and wants to remind you of it.
At some point, once he’s detailed the strange design of the swords and armor and the various stances employed by the Archenland knights, when the moon has well risen and you have not said a word in what feels like forever, Edmund finally clues into the fact that you may not be as jubilant as he is and leans over to you with a faintly concerned look on his face.
“Is everything alright, my love?” He asks. “You’re quiet tonight.”
“I’m tired tonight,” you correct him. “It’s been a long day, I think I’ll get some sleep.”
“But I’ve hardly heard about this long day of yours at all,” Edmund says.
“Tomorrow,” you say, hardly above a whisper. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
He opens his mouth to say something– argue, maybe, or go back to his favorite topic of the knights, but you turn onto your side before you can hear anything more and feign sleep, your back to Edmund. You can hear him shuffling around a little before he goes to sleep too, and although his soft breathing fills the room soon enough, you’re not able to lose yourself to unconsciousness for quite a while. Instead, you lie awake, staring at the ceiling, and wondering why you feel like you’re losing.
You’re fully prepared for the next day to pass much the same way, and for the most part, it does. Edmund rises early to get in extra training time with the foreign knights, and you’re left to wake slowly in your quarters, alone, knowing your husband is out there somewhere making memories you’ll never fully understand. You try to lose yourself in talks with the visiting dignitaries, but you feel your husband’s absence like a missing limb.
The only thing to do is keep yourself busy enough that your mind won’t distract itself with thoughts of the training yard. You’re quite good at this, too, up until Edmund emerges from the company of the knights around midafternoon and tries to reconvene with you.
You’re careful to be polite, but Edmund reads you like a book and pulls you aside for a word in private under the guise of clarifying the schedule of events for the rest of the day.
“What’s wrong?” He asks plainly. “I know something was bothering you last night, do tell me. I want to help.”
You shake your head quickly. “No, really, nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired, I think.”
Edmund arches a brow. “Really?”
“Really,” you insist. “No issues here.”
Edmund sighs. “I want you to trust me, Y/N. You can tell me anything. Surely by now you know that.”
The pained look on his face hurts you. “I do trust you, Ed. It’s just– I don’t want to disappoint you, that’s all.”
The expression of hurt on Edmund’s face is quickly replaced by shock and surprise. “What? Since when have you ever disappointed me?”
You’re unable to look at him any longer, wrapping your arms around your middle for comfort. “I saw you in the training yard yesterday, fighting with the knights from Archenland. They’re able to give you a worthy fight. They can meet you and challenge you. You’re the battle commander for this country, I know the sword is one of your favorite pursuits. All this time, I thought we were so well matched because we were both strategic thinkers and we had favorite books and philosophers that aligned, but I’m realizing that I was wrong. Surely you saw it too, fighting Sir Lann. Out there, on the battlefield, I just don’t measure up.”
The words come out in one awful torrent, and then they hang in the air, some physical thing you’ve thrown up like a wall between the two of you. Edmund stares at you unthinkingly, then leans forward to seize your hands in his. “Y/N, I had no idea that you felt that way. Never in my life have I thought you unworthy, or less than perfect. So what if you aren’t a master at the sword when you have so many talents in every other field? I have never lacked for anything with you at my side, not in the training yard, not anywhere. I don’t want you as anyone but who you are.”
You breathe out slowly. “Do you mean it?”
Edmund smiles softly. “Of course I mean it. There are knights aplenty in our castle, and soldiers all throughout the lands, but there’s no one with your mind, Y/N.” He laughs abashedly. “The day I met you, I begged my whole family and the entirety of our council of advisors to let me marry you instead of Peter. From our very first conversation, I knew there was no one else who would suit me half as well as you did.”
You let out a slightly teary laugh. “You never told me that.”
Edmund’s cheeks heat slightly. “And I swore my family to secrecy, I assure you. I didn’t want to unnerve you. But if given the chance, I would tell you every day if it convinced you that you’re the one I want. I don’t want a soldier as my wife, Y/N, I want you. I want you in every way that you are. And besides, if I’m the expert in swordsmanship, I must admit I’m glad that it gives me the chance to be the hero every now and again. I like to think I’m the one who can keep you safe in times of peril.”
This time, your smile is genuine. “You’ve always been my hero, Edmund, whether there was a sword in your hand or not.”
“And you’ve always been mine,” he returns. “Always, Y/N.”
You feel the release of a knot of emotions finally untying itself in your heart. There’s nothing but sincerity in Edmund’s eyes when he looks at you, and at last you can let go of that awful jealousy and despair that had been plaguing you. He loves you for you. That’s the way it always has been, and the way it always will be.
narnia tag list: @remussbitch, @faerieroyal, @goldfish4403
all tags list: @wordsarelife, @supervoldejaygent
