fic prompts: hit me

[bedlamsbard]

I am still kindly telling myself that I'm not writing Peta Pevensie (you're not writing it unless it's in a Word document! All wise people know this is true, unless of course you prefer a word processing program other than Word), and Caspian-in-the-Golden-Age is kicking my butt, and I don't want to look at any of my other WIPs or my unbegun apocalyptothon story, and my tools of procrastination right now are knitting and solitaire, and after a thousand games of solitaire, well...sanity? Going. It will be back in a bit when I take my computer down to go watch the Olympics, because I feel bad doing anything other than writing on the computer when I'm watching TV (in this case, comment fics actually do count as writing, but I'm not actually writing them -- look, this distinction makes sense in my head), but at the moment? Sanity? Gone.

So! Give me fic prompts (Narnia, please), and I don't promise anything, but maybe then we will get somewhere. (And God, yes, all right, Peta counts.)

Comments

[ineptshieldmaid.livejournal.com]

The time Edmund juggled knives! PLEASE?

(Did Edmund ever betray Peta? Something tells me she'd have killed him before he got the chance to explain...)

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

Peter, Edmund, duty over preference.

Susan, crowd, increasing isolation.

Lucy, Aslan, adoration, disturbance.



Dunno if you can work with those, but there ya go. *drops 'em on you*

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

The more fool, she!

[westingturtle.livejournal.com]

How about some of Edmund's romantic (mis)adventures? Everyone else seems to be having more fun than he does.

[vivien]

Susan and a suitor. Or two. Or three.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Oh, I see what you're doing there with number one.

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

ALL of them are aimed to fit into what I know of your cycle according to what I've read and/or discussed with you. *sniffs*

However, yes.


Peta, Caspian, nonconformity, bemusement, *if you must*.


Bacchus, sensual, dancing, fire.


Narnia/Jadis, resistance,rape(well, it WAS),possessiveness,lingering.


Hmmm...Maugrim, Edmund. Hunger. Ice.


*grins* I can keep going...you'll regret asking for prompts (if you haven't already)...*grins more*

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

General Acarons is in the crowd. Edmund could let his hands "slip" and take care of all their problems -- until, of course, King Marroquin replaces him with one of his senior lieutenants, the majority of whom are even worse than Acarons. Next to Acarons are two of said lieutenants, Sahagun and Duavis, and a small coterie of junior lieutenants. One of them is the man Edmund's here to meet.

He's learned how to watch his knives and the crowd at the same time, but he keeps most of his attention on the knives, mostly because he's not as good at this as Peter or Lucy and he doesn't want to accidentally kill himself. One, two, three, four, five, all going up in shining silver arcs, and Edmund steps back to let them come down in a perfect circle around him, points sticking in the ground and hilts up.

The crowd applauds politely, and Edmund sweeps a bow before gathering up the knives and stepping behind the curtain, where the group of Tatuie dancers are waiting to go out. "He's there," he whispers in Ainala's ear, and she nods.

Waiting, he busies himself cleaning and sharpening his knives. He wants them sharp, because they're not just for decoration or for juggling; they're weapons as much as the other knives hidden on his body. And if he's found out, he will have to fight his way out of Telmar, which isn't something he's particularly interested in doing.

Three sets later, there's a fire-eater on the stage, and Ainala's leading a Telmarine soldier back towards Edmund with her body leaned towards him as if she has something in mind.

"Lieutenant Caspian," Edmund says in Telmarine, standing up.

For a moment, the young officer's face is blank, then recognition spreads across it. "Silvertongue," he says. "I had thought -- someone else --"

"No, you get me," Edmund says. "I wouldn't put an agent in this sort of situation, and if anyone happens to me, then Peter will invade and then Telmar will have even bigger problems than the ones they're courting now."

Caspian sets his jaw. "I love my country," he says stubbornly.

"And I love mine, which is why I'm here," Edmund says. "Patriotism is a great motivator. If your country attacks mine head-on, your country will be destroyed, but mine will take huge casualties. Let's try and avoid that together."

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Malena is a small, pretty woman who walks up to the gates of Arn Abedin at the head of a group of Telmarine refugees and asks the guards for whoever's in charge. Edmund and Lucy are there out of sheer chance, and so Lucy ends up taking charge of the refugees while Edmund talks to Malena.

"My people are not well-liked by the king," she says in broken Narnian.

Edmund's Telmarine isn't more than passable and Malena's Narnian isn't any better, so Edmund isn't sure exactly what she's saying, but he's more or less certain that they're seeking sanctuary in Narnia.

"You have to make a formal request to my brother the High King," Edmund says carefully in Narnian, then repeats it in Telmarine. "But I don't think he'll refuse your request."

Malena beams at him. Edmund is already composing the message to Peter in his head. Unfortunately, Peter is in the High Reaches, so it could take a while for him to find out, and then he has to reply.

They end up putting the Telmarines up in Arn Abedin until word comes from Peter. Malena divides her time between her people and Edmund. He wants to know everything he can about the political situation in Telmar, because if refugees are coming over into Narnia, it means there's something very wrong going on in the country. She wants to learn Narnian.

"So Obregon's not the one persecuting your people?" Edmund asks late one night, chewing on the end of his quill. They're still working on inventing or importing ink pens.

"No, it is his brother Prince Marroquin who wants my people dead," Malena says. "We believe in the goodness of the Lion; the prince favors the thousand little gods above all others."

Obregon is the king of Telmar and is inclined to treat Narnia as an ally and trade-partner. Marroquin is his ambitious younger brother who also happens to be a religious maniac. "We have religious freedom in Narnia," Edmund says, not for the first time.

"That is why we are here," Malena says firmly. "Your majesty, will we be given sanctuary as we have requested?"

"Probably," Edmund says, putting his quill down to massage the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"If there is anything I can do --"

"It's just that Peter's on the other side of the country," Edmund says, "and I can't speak for him, so --" He stops abruptly. "That's not going to help," he says faintly as Malena pulls her dress off over her head.

"You've been so kind to us," she says throatily, moving around the side of his desk.

"You're welcome?" Edmund says, the words coming out in a squeak.

Malena sits down in his lap and puts her arms around his neck. "I just want to thank you," she says.

Peter never has to deal with this, Edmund thinks frantically, then Malena starts kissing him and he stops thinking.

[saturns-hikari.livejournal.com]

Susan as the Swan Princess! Somewhere you have "Susan is turned into a swan" and I *need* to read that.

Edmund and Turkish Delight! Is he scarred for life- did it become a strange kink- still his favorite candy?

Peter and school boys

prompt prompts:

Olympics (I know, but I'm watching it too)
Flour
Defenestration
Greed

sanity is overrated!

[lassiterfics.livejournal.com]

Peter and Lucy, this negotiation is not going well at all

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

"I hate men," Susan says through her teeth as Edmund comes over to rescue her from the Natarene ambassador. Natare doesn't need her; they already have Peter, so there's no reasonable explanation for Fanjaus to be courting her except to get under her skirts, where Susan certainly doesn't want him.

"I know the feeling," Edmund agrees as they settle into the sedate moves of the danse belle.

"You can't possibly," Susan says briskly, her skirts flaring out around her as they spin.

"No," Edmund deadpans. "I know the feeling. The Edanese ambassador's aide has been chasing me all night. I don't even like men like that."

"And before that it was the Vicomte Caeiro from Marinel," Susan says. "Marinel's on the other side of the continent. We don't need an alliance with them. They already trade here; what else do they want?"

"I've had the Duke of Goldtree at my heels all night, begging me to convince Peter to help him take Ransky back," Edmund counters. "Ransky's been gone for four years now; it's not coming back any time soon. And Narnia's certainly not going to try setting off Natare and Belgarion off by trying to take their land back for Ransky. There's nothing there we need."

"You probably haven't seen Lord Meurik much tonight," Susan says. "That would be because he's nursing four broken fingers and a broken wrist."

Edmund stares at her. "I'll kill him for you, if you like," he says. "Which will be a relief for him if Peter ever hears about whatever he tried. What did he try?"

"He was of the opinion that being human in Narnia gave him the right to put his hands up my skirts. I disabused him of that notion," Susan says sedately. "And don't tell Peter; we need his men too badly. Maybe you can kill him after he has an heir."

"I was going to tell you how the Terebinthian governor's wife tried to lock us in the library, but I don't think that has anything on you actually breaking bones," Edmund says, spinning her beneath his arm.

"How did you get out of that one?" Susan asks.

"Begged Cair Paravel to open the door or come up with any emergency at all," Edmund says. "And was extremely glad Peter isn't here to distract her."

He and Susan pull away from each other and bow as the dance draws to a close. "Oh, here we go again," Susan says to him as she sees Prince Martel of Belgarion, an ambassador's aide from Alvarado, and the Calormene ambassador approach from three different directions.

"And this is my cue to leave," Edmund says, succeeding in distracting the little Alvaradan before he can reach her. It leaves her with Prince Martel and Ambassador Hazhir, so she plasters her sweetest smile on her face and detours toward Martel.

[ineptshieldmaid.livejournal.com]

*giggles*

Why, thank you!

[ineptshieldmaid.livejournal.com]

oh, poor lad!

[franceica.livejournal.com]

Peta counts.

Oh great!

Hmm, how about Peta's reaction towards Peter's siblings when Peter introduce her to his family?

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Some people just have no luck...

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

I am highly amused by our Caspian's ancestors. Oh, if he only knew...

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

It's your fault I woke up thinking of Susan, Rabadash, fascination, toying, and dismissal. *scowls*

[burntcopper.livejournal.com]

Lucy post-battle.

Tumnus trying to deal with the Pevensies in the early years. And then in the later years.

what's left of the Telmarine council trying to stare down the Pevensies because they're *children* in the wake of Beruna before they go back) Also, what happens when you try to put Lucy in with the Telmarine nobility of her age.

[westingturtle.livejournal.com]

"You're welcome?" Edmund says, the words coming out in a squeak. LOL!

Not a single one of the Pevensies ever initiated something, did they? (except possibly Peta) People just threw themselves at their feet.

[westingturtle.livejournal.com]

Goodness, it's just business for these two isn't it? "They already have a trade agreement, why are they still flirting?"

And Edmund gets to run away, but Susan doesn't?

[swift-tales.livejournal.com]

Euhm....

The Pevensies dynamic (with lots of symbling snark) if Peter was a girl (Peta, in other words)

:D

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Oh, they initiated things. It's just that people keep throwing themselves at their feet.

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

Well, they aren't detouring towards Susan and Edmund for Edmund. And considering the number of times all four of the Pevensies must get hit on...

[bedlamsbard.livejournal.com]

We were able to see and to hear, but we could neither speak nor move nor communicate with each other in any sort of way. As the day wore on, I despaired of ever again living as a man rather than as a man-shaped statue.

At long last, night fell. As the rays of moonlight fell over the pond, I saw the black swan spread her wings. A sheen of silvery light seemed to rise up around her, and when it fell away, there was no swan but a woman, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her hair, dark as her wings had been, fell nearly to her waist, and she wore a gown of green silk embroidered in silver. A crown wrought of golden flowers graced her brow. As she turned towards me, I was shocked to realize that I knew her.

She was no mere princess of some far-off land as the stories had said. This was Queen Susan of Narnia, the woman called Heartsbane in the eastern countries. And as I gazed upon her face, I knew that if the wizard who had done these dark deeds had managed to steal into the heart of Narnia and capture Heartsbane herself, then no mere prince such as I would be able to rescue her and break the curse. This quest had been doomed from the very beginning, and doubtless my uncle Marroquin had known this.

Excerpt from "An Account of the Many Wonders of the East", a travelogue written by Prince Beturian of Telmar after his return from his ten year exile.