Author: whirleeq PM
Once, she was happy. Lucy/Tumnus angsty one-shot.Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Romance - Lucy Pevensie & Tumnus - Words: 665 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 8 - Follows: 1 - Published: 01-03-09 - Status: Complete - id: 4767655
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A/N: A quick Lucy/Tumnus angsty drabble thing. I don't normally write in this fandom (I love it too much ;) ), but there is something about this particular couple that I find irresistible.
Once, she danced with the fairies and the fauns to the music of the trees.
Her dark haired groom spins her around the dance floor, smiling brilliantly as one hand moves to her shoulder and the
other settles gently around her waist. The thrum thrum thrum of the music pales to the beat of her heart as she moves with
him, and she can see the smiles of approval from her brothers as they watch them dance.
Maybe, she thinks, maybe things happen the way they do for a reason.
But then her sister gives her a sad, knowing look, shattering all her illusions, and Lucy forgets to breathe.
She doesn't blame him, she supposes, for interpreting the sudden hitch of her breath as passion, and doesn't flinch when
warm, soft lips brush against her forehead.
"You are so beautiful, my Lucy."
Once, those words were spoken to a Queen.
Miraculously, she is able to smile. It doesn't reach her eyes, but that's okay because no one ever notices anyway. And
when everyone applauds them as husband and wife, she somehow manages not to scream.
Later, after the reception is over, and the guests disappear in ones and twos, she finds herself alone in a room with
him. She glances at the new gold band around her finger (it is too tight, like a noose would be around her neck) and to
her eyes, the gold looks tarnished.
Once, a ring of kisses were placed upon her brow and they burned so hot, she thought she just might die.
Clumsy fingers slowly work on the clasps and zippers that hold her beautiful, winter-white dress in place. Lips that
are a little too big and a little too wet press against her neck. And they are wrong, wrong, wrong, but it's okay, she supposes,
because she can pretend (she has always been good at pretending) --
The tone is right, even if the voice is wrong. But it's okay, because in her mind the voice is deeper and richer and she hears only what she wants to hear anyway.
She always has.
She combs her fingers through his hair as he kisses her, ignoring that the locks are fine and straight. When she shuts her eyes, they thicken and curl under her fingertips. And if she concentrates hard enough, she can almost make herself believe that she feels the hint of a beard against her skin.
"I love you Lucy. By the lion, I love you so much."
And a part of her knows that is not quite what he said, but Lucy only hears what she wants to hear anyway. She always has.
They fall together on the soft green grass (not a small double bed, in an old London hotel), covered only by the stars (and not by a scratchy, wool blanket), and she tries not to cry when he enters her.
She tells him that she loves him, and he turns her head and forces her to open her eyes and really see --
Once, a Queen professed to love a faun.
-- the eyes are deep, deep, brown (not green, never green) and the hair is curly and the look in his eyes is wild, and she's not lying to herself, she's not, she's not --
A little voice inside her screams that the eyes are different, the hair is different and even the words are different (the deity is God, not Aslan, never Aslan, because this is not Narnia, not again, never, never again) and there is no magic in his touch and no music in his voice --
But Lucy ignores the voice and pretends because once, she was happy and now, she knows no other way.