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sixwordstories2013-07-07 06:12 pm
adexuate) wrote in sixwordstories2013-07-07 06:12 pm
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She'll be ready soon, they say.
"Regrettably, no," she admits, a small frown appearing in the twist of her mouth and the subtle furrow between her brows.
"But I suppose there would be - some time between now and then for me to stand on her decks, adjust to the sense of a rocking ship?"
"But I suppose there would be - some time between now and then for me to stand on her decks, adjust to the sense of a rocking ship?"
"We can start with that, yes." His arm settles more comfortably around her, thumb smoothing absently at her hip. "Many people find it quite comforting, you know? And don't get even the slightest bit uncomfortable."
A fervent hope he had for her. It would be oddly disconcerting to know his wife didn't fare well on the seas.
A fervent hope he had for her. It would be oddly disconcerting to know his wife didn't fare well on the seas.
"Good," she replies, with a slightly more relieved sigh. She does not know how she will fare now, and it is difficult to say what may change in the coming days between where they stand now and where they will be standing soon, but his confidence assures her of plenty.
"I can hope that I will be one of those fortunate individuals," she adds, arm curving around him in a stronger embrace. "Perhaps your influence will rub off on me."
"I don't see why we should expect you aren't until we've proven it to be so." No use worrying overly much when the moment felt so entirely lovely just now.
Life with her has, indeed, been happy thus far, but seeing his ship--the next great feat of Narnia, the next solidifying his reign as an extension of the Golden Age rather than the Telmarine dynasty--is possibly the greatest happiness he's felt since the High Kings and Queens left.
"I promise never to make you set foot on board again if it is so."
Life with her has, indeed, been happy thus far, but seeing his ship--the next great feat of Narnia, the next solidifying his reign as an extension of the Golden Age rather than the Telmarine dynasty--is possibly the greatest happiness he's felt since the High Kings and Queens left.
"I promise never to make you set foot on board again if it is so."
"You will not scoop me up as easily as one might a sack of potatoes?" Sansa teases, an easy smile rising on her lips as she tilts her head back to bring his face into her line of sight. There is no denying the happiness in his gaze, the hopefulness. It fills her heart with a similar emotion, though she knows it will never be quite to the same degree. She can be happy in glimpsing his happiness.
"You would effectively commandeer me," she continues, still teasing. "Very much like one of those roguish pirates who sail the seas."
His laugh is a bit on the soft side as he ducks to press his forehead against hers affectionately.
"As were my ancestors before they settled here," he acknowledges, attention finally fully restored to his wife. "Should you still care for me if I were to drag you across the oceans to find the ends of the world?"
"As were my ancestors before they settled here," he acknowledges, attention finally fully restored to his wife. "Should you still care for me if I were to drag you across the oceans to find the ends of the world?"
"Of course," she says, almost surprising herself with the quickness of her answer. Her smile fades slightly, but her eyes still carry it when his gaze falls on her.
"But if you were to sail them without me, I would merely have to prepare a welcome for you as befits a king," she adds. "And a husband."
"I'm certain I'd rather be a king than a pirate, roguish or otherwise. And," the brightness comes back to his smile, the air of teasing to his voice, if perhaps also the flush to his cheek, "I'm fairly certain there will never come a day I'll not be more than glad to come back to you as a husband."
New though the experience of being husband and wife still was. He had a feeling this wasn't really something a person got tired of.
New though the experience of being husband and wife still was. He had a feeling this wasn't really something a person got tired of.
"You are too handsome to be such a scoundrel, anyway," Sansa declares, smiling more brightly at the sight of the flush in his cheeks, the color in his face. There are still aspects of their marriage that bring a healthy blush to her cheeks, though she doubts that will disappear quickly. "And much too noble to do anything so terrible."
She winds her arms around his neck, drawing herself in, and rises up to close the distance between them just enough. "You can carry this with you, the knowledge that I will always be here, waiting for you to return to greet you as such." Her lips brush against his, warm with discovered affection.
Certainly she's learned what will distract him from all but the most serious things. Absolutely he's completely keyed in on her now, lips pressing back to hers delicately a moment.
"Will you give me something to remember you by, beyond the memory of your promise?"
"Will you give me something to remember you by, beyond the memory of your promise?"
"What would you request of me?" she asks, her fingertips gently teasing the ends of his hair and then kneading down over the back of his neck in turn, the subtle expanse of skin revealed above the collar of his shirt.
"Name it and it is yours, my lord."
Peter had been thinking more of England than Narnia, which was a bit odd for him, really. He blinked in surprise and turned to look at Caspian. He arched his eyebrows at him, and smirked just a bit. "You say that as though you could stop me."
It was playful banter. Some bite there, but fairly well muted. Something he would have directed at Edmund, rather than any real challenge or aggression.
It was playful banter. Some bite there, but fairly well muted. Something he would have directed at Edmund, rather than any real challenge or aggression.
The hum on his lips is absolutely contented, eyes slipping just almost shut for a split second at the warm touch of her fingers on his neck. It's strange to think that such a small thing could feel so infinitely comforting.
"Something I can carry over my heart. In a pocket or around my neck."
"Something I can carry over my heart. In a pocket or around my neck."
She purses her mouth, a small reflective expression, and then nods in revelation, momentarily slipping away from his hold to move to her dressing table. She does not wear very much jewelry, but she had brought some pieces along with her during the journey to her new home, and she only has to search in the small wooden box for a few moments before coming up with the small locket.
It is made strong from pure silver, yet delicate in construction, with the sigil of her house - a direwolf - etched on its surface. Sansa reaches for his hand, gently pressing it into his palm. "There. You may wear it next to your heart, or keep it close however you wish."
Not so long ago, even a light barb would have had him shutting down, either closing down or snapping back far too harsh. It wasn't just the beautiful ship coming to life before them that had him weathering this calmly.
It was growing up. It was the right direction. It meant a half-smile instead of a bit of panic. "Should you not be stopped by a gentle 'please?'"
It was growing up. It was the right direction. It meant a half-smile instead of a bit of panic. "Should you not be stopped by a gentle 'please?'"
"I wouldn't," she says mildly, more observation than it is warning against it, "She's a ship entirely of her own sort, after all, for all it's good to remember our time."
And isn't it weird that 'the old days' refers largely to her time.
And isn't it weird that 'the old days' refers largely to her time.
Peter should probably be more surprised at Caspian's response, but he's mostly just a bit relieved. Not because of what it says of Caspian, but because it means they are both getting somewhere.
"I should, and likely would, be. That doesn't mean I wouldn't pout. Particularly if you're taking the others along."
"I should, and likely would, be. That doesn't mean I wouldn't pout. Particularly if you're taking the others along."
It's a testament of affection that his attention only flickers from her to the window for a moment, that he's looking at her and not the ship when she turns to him again.
"You're certain?"
It's something from her old home, after all. Something which was a piece of her before she had to become a piece of him.
"You're certain?"
It's something from her old home, after all. Something which was a piece of her before she had to become a piece of him.
"Do you think I would do that?"
True, of all the siblings, real friction had only genuinely existed between the newest King of Narnia and the High King beside him. But they've both grown. They've both learned one another--and, more importantly, themselves.
"You would honour me with your presence."
True, of all the siblings, real friction had only genuinely existed between the newest King of Narnia and the High King beside him. But they've both grown. They've both learned one another--and, more importantly, themselves.
"You would honour me with your presence."
They'd learned to work together, in the end, as well as learning something about themselves and each other. For Peter, the working together was as important as the rest in easing the friction.
"I don't think you would, but I'd much rather not be along out of a sense of obligation or politeness. Also, please. You're the King. I'm the one being honored."
"I don't think you would, but I'd much rather not be along out of a sense of obligation or politeness. Also, please. You're the King. I'm the one being honored."
"Completely," she promises, tracing the shape the chain takes in his palm before she curves his fingers around it, coaxing him into taking a firmer grip. Then she stands next to him near the window.
There will always be a piece of her from Winterfell, but now she can share it with him, the same way that he has shared with her - little pieces here and there, intermingling until they become forever entwined in memories both old and newly made.
"I shouldn't want to keep my friends from this." Whichever one of them was King didn't really matter, after all. What mattered was the understanding that existed now. "We'll all go."
The ship would be used for much more, of course. Was more than a symbol and thing of beauty. But one first trip for the pleasure of being on the sea, surely, couldn't hurt.
The ship would be used for much more, of course. Was more than a symbol and thing of beauty. But one first trip for the pleasure of being on the sea, surely, couldn't hurt.
He takes a moment to feel the locket in his hand, then to study it briefly, examine the etching more thoroughly for a few heartbeats, before he moves to clasp it around his own neck. It sets well against his skin once he tucks it beneath his shirt, feels cool and comforting against his heart.
"It will be as if you are beside me, then, even when I'm beyond the edge of the sky."
"It will be as if you are beside me, then, even when I'm beyond the edge of the sky."
She smiles as she watches him clasp the chain around his neck, watches the locket hover before disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt. She lifts her fingers to map the outline of it through the cloth, tracing the small shape, and then slides her hand into his, contented by the knowledge that there will be a small piece of her close even when she cannot be.
"There may be another who will be waiting for you, many months from now," she replies. Her womb may be empty but she is beginning to look forward to the day when it swells with life.
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