#rabadash

[applesandpavenders]

He’s just missing his donkey ears

[steampunklucy]

Susan Pevensie dancing with Rabadash before they knew he was evil.

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

inspired by a post from @imissthembutitwasntadisaster

Knives and forks clinked softly, covered by the buzz of conversation.

"Queen Susan," said Rabadash, seated at her left.

She turned to him, fastening a smile on her face. "Prince Rabadash." She subtly emphasised the word 'Prince', and noted with triumph that he fidgeted.

"I was wondering if you would consider walking with me once this tiresome meal is over."

Ah yes, using the word 'tiresome' to get into her confidence. Susan smiled again. "Certainly, Prince Rabadash," she said graciously.

He cut the meal short by getting up while the final course was being served, carefully apologising in a way that Susan saw straight through. "I would walk with you, my Queen."

'My'. Bold, but he was a taking fellow, and she might even find someday that she liked him.

"I shall walk with you," she acquiesced, and put her hand in his arm.

Why did Aslan call me 'Gentle'? she wondered for the thousandth time. Why not Queen Susan the Cunning?

[marmota-b]

One thing I've been pondering about the future of The Peridan Chronicles is how to reconcile Peridan's behaviour in Tashbaan with the fact he's Methos. I have no problem reconciling him in the Battle of Asgard - standard bearer is a position that requires extraordinary skill and bravery, so of course after years in Narnia that's where he ends up and where the Four put him.

But he's a bit clueless in the discussion of their situation and escape plans in Tashbaan, and that doesn't quite line up with Methos's brand of cleverness.

EXCEPT

I think I just cracked it - the way I've already been writing him, he's clever, but perhaps not overly diplomatic. His inclination would be to disappear in the middle of the night by sneaking around guards. Something like Lasaraleen's plan, in fact. He could get away himself, he could help a couple friends escape, but that's not an approach that works for extricating a whole diplomatic embassy including a queen at the verge of an unwanted engagement.

So they discuss it with Edmund beforehand (I already knew they would, of course they would) and Methos offers to act a bit out of character in order to soften the blow. Because they know Susan will blame herself. And Peridan's been the person in their circle who will call you out. They don't want to call Susan out too much. It's not her fault she fell for a manipulator.

(Later, when the dust settles, she realises he had acted out of character, he would be the first to suggest what could go wrong, and asks him why, and he explains. She's a bit mad but mostly grateful.)

[saintofaugust]

rabadash: Does your sister want me..?

edmund: hmm.. if i say she doesnt what will u do

rabadash: Kill you.

edmund: ahh.. and if i say she does what will u do

[narniansteel]

Oh God what if they make Rabadash hot

[tenth-sentence]

"They will be a small company," said Rabadash, "and I will order ten of my men to disarm and bind him: restraining my vehement desire for his blood so that there shall be no deadly cause of war between you and the High King."

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Horse and His Boy" - C. S. Lewis

[whats-in-a-sentence]

"To hear is to obey," cried Rabadash, and after kneeling for a moment to kiss his father's hands he rushed from the room.

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Horse and His Boy" - C. S. Lewis

[giantsinthemist]

you know, I'm starting to think I don't have a bad immune system it's just that instead of using the perfectly good stock pile of long range weapons, sanctions, preventative measures, and diplomacy (which it does in fact have) like everyone else's. mine has decided it much prefers single, hand to hand, mortal combat and feels like the normal method (or anything else) would be an affront to its very dignified honour.

[divinecomedyproductions]

Made this on my TikTok, Narnia fans will get it

[hiqhkinq]

peter was very briefly a hostage during the campaign against the giants

[tarkhccna]

while all are welcome at the temple of the god tash, the immediate royal family is expected to pay a bloody homage to the diety as it is his ancestry that gives them the right to rule. a spindle stands in the doorway of each of his places of worship, and those of his blood must return it to him, pricking their finger and letting a drop pool in a golden dish resting below. it’s said that the sacrificial blood left in that font never truly dries, as it is divine. ( skeptics whisper that it’s simply rehydrated with essential oils by tash’s apostates throughout each day. ) 

[2usan]

susan had a lot of nightmares and sleepless nights from her time in tashbaan

[pink-princess-pussy-pop]

Making Up For Lost Time - Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Based on the following two requests:

can we get an enemies to lovers with edmund that has smut in it??

PLEASEE an edmund smut,, preferably something with a risk of getting caught? or not bb i don’t mind- but a lot of dirty talking too 🤭

It's not necessarily enemies to lovers? But I really hope you enjoy it, this is probably my favorite thing I've written thus far.

Summary: You and Edmund are definitely feeling the effects of your arranged marriage.

Warnings: Language, Smut, not proofed!

Female reader

You couldn't take much more of him, nor him you. The both of you knew why the marriage had to happen, Narnia couldn't risk another war, and Calormen was losing resources due to the Great Desert. As a compromise, Peter, Caspian, and Susan met with Prince Rabadash to secure a compromise. A truce between the kingdoms and a new way for the resources to be traded was sealed with the promise of a marriage between you and Edmund.

And neither of you was happy with it.

It didn't help that you had shared chambers either. You and Edmund had asked The High Kings and Queen about a switch in rooms but they only pushed further.

"Imagine what the people would think if the newlyweds weren't sharing a room?" So you were forced to live with him. Fall asleep next to him each night, and wake by his side every morning.

Granted, Edmund wasn't intolerable. He just wasn't tolerable either. He was a handsome man, sure, but that face also came with his quick wit and sharp tongue, two things you'd grown to loathe.

He'd challenge you, yes. But his tone of speech was never rude or condescending. But the biggest thing you hated about him, he was always so charming. So sweet. So fair.

He didn't earn the title of The Just King for nothing. But it just added fuel to the fire.

He'd always let you use the bath chambers first, and never complained or protested when you took longer baths.

He didn't pressure you to do anything on your wedding night. He simply kept to himself, offering you a smile and a "goodnight" from his side of the bed. You had been told what was to come, your mind was full of stories from other women in your life. Horror stories.

"It is ever so painful."

"Not pleasurable at all!"

"I can hardly wait until it's over!"

Needless to say, when your new husband had simply wished you a good night and went to sleep, you were surprised. The next morning you woke by his side, finding it odd that he had barely moved an inch. You were basically in the middle of the large bed, Edmund sleeping soundly on the edge, right where he was the night before. You were gone before he'd woken up.

Edmund never failed to greet you kindly, entering the room quietly just in case you had decided to take a nap. He never raised his voice to you either.

Was he snarky and sassy? Of course. But he had always treated you and your family with kindness and respect. It was insufferable. Sometimes you wished he'd just be rude so you would have a real reason to hate him, aside from the fact that he was your husband but you never seemed to communicate. You had gotten used to the fact that there would never be any sort of friendship, let alone a relationship, between you and Edmund, so you resorted to hating him.

The only time he'd gotten angry with you was when you hadn't returned to the bedroom one evening. Unbeknownst to you, he began searching frantically for you, creating quite a stir in the grand castle, only to find you asleep in the library. He cursed to himself before picking your sleeping form up in his arms and bringing you back to your room.

You woke up that morning in bed, confused at first about your location, but relaxing when you saw Edmund's sleeping form next to you.

As you rolled out of bed and made your way to the bathroom you heard his voice.

"Don't do that again." You froze, turning around. His dark eyes were on yours and he was very much not asleep.

"Do what?" He sat up, giving you a view of his very shirtless torso. You averted your eyes immediately.

"Not come back." Your confusion brought your eyes to him again. His lanky, but well-built frame, was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"What?" He rose from the bed, a hand running through his dark hair. You stare at him while he walks toward you, stopping less than a foot away from you.

"You didn't come back last night. Don't do that again." He brushed your cheek with his hand, and leaned forward, pressing a kiss there too. You could feel your cheeks heating at the proximity. The last time he'd been this close to you was your wedding. He hadn't touched you since then either.

He pulled away quickly, stepping around you.

"Did you bring me back?" You turned your head to face him.

"Yes."

...

That night, there was a ball between the great nations. Narnia was the gracious host to Archenland, the Conglomeration of Nations, Ettinsmoor, and of course, Calormen.

You hadn't seen Edmund since the morning. You had been whisked away by maids to get ready for the celebration. The ball was for you and Edmund, another party after the wedding you guessed.

You were dressed in a gorgeous light blue gown with intricate white floral stitching and lace along the neckline. It was gorgeous. The long sleeves were fitted and the back laced up like a corset. Your hair had been fixed down with small braids throughout as to not disrupt the crown you'd also be adorning for the evening.

Then, you were whisked away to the celebration, the guests awaiting the arrival of the newlyweds. Edmund was waiting in the corridor, dressed in the same light blue as you, his silver crown on top of his head. He looked very handsome, more so than usual, and suddenly your thoughts were filled with images of you and Edmund dancing together, of Edmund touching you, his large hand on your waist, maybe even his lips on yours.

"M'Lady?"

You blinked, eyes meeting his. What had he just called you?

"Y-yes?"

"I said are you ready to go in?" Your cheeks heated once again and you nodded, looking away from him. He chuckled and then he laced his fingers through yours, effectively making your heart stop.

...

As soon as your introductions were over, you slipped away from Edmund's side. The thoughts kept popping up in your brain. Why did you keep thinking these thoughts? Edmund didn't want to marry you, let alone consummate the marriage, so why did your brain keep doing this? You hid yourself well by the banquet table, keeping away from the crowds.

"Queen Y/N?" You turned at the use of your title, looking at the sheer opposite of your husband. A man with blonde hair and blue eyes was staring at you with a dazzling smile. You found yourself preferring Edmund's dark hair, brown eyes, and ever-present smirk.

"Hello..."

"I am Prince Cor of Archenland. It is very nice to meet you, M'Lady."

You had to stop yourself from reacting to the name Edmund had called you only an hour before. You'd much preferred it coming from his mouth than Prince Cor. Oh now you'd done it. This poor Prince was trying to make small talk with you and now you were thinking about your husband's mouth? The blush creeping over your cheeks and shoulders was enough for you to shake yourself out of your thoughts.

"It is nice to meet you too, your Highness."

As you and Cor began to make conversation, Edmund's wondering eyes found you. His hand tightened around the goblet he'd been holding and his gaze narrowed.

"Who is that?" He hadn't even noticed he was interrupting his brother.

"Who is who?" Peter replied.

"The bloke flirting with my wife, that's who." Peter held back a laugh.

"Ed, I hardly think Prince Cor would flirt with Y/N, this is your marriage celebration after all. Besides, she wouldn't flirt with someone else so shamelessly."

Edmund wasn't even listening and was halfway across the ballroom before his brother could finish speaking.

"I really do believe that astronomy is one of the most interesting subjects one can learn about-" The Just King interrupted the blonde prince, swiftly interjecting himself into the conversation.

"Hello, My Love." Your face burned at the new name. Then he turned your face to his and kisses your cheek. You could feel your heart in your ears and you looked down, suddenly interested in the floor. "May I ask what you and Prince Cor are talking about?" The blonde man looked uncomfortable.

"We were speaking-"

"I believe I asked my wife, not you." Cor lowered his head in a nod in return, quickly and quietly exiting the conversation. If looks could kill, Prince Cor would have been dead on the ballroom floor in mere seconds from Edmund's piercing glare.

You began to slip away from your husband before his strong hand wrapped around your arm and gently tugged you back. His front was lightly pressed against your back, his head lowered so he could speak into your ear.

"And where do you think you're going?" His voice sent shivers down your spine. His hand trailed up your arm, resting where your shoulder meets your collar bone, visible from the Sabrina neckline of your dress. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

What? Were you dreaming?

"Because it's working, darling."

Edmund's hand grasps yours again and he begins to lead you out of the room, desperate to get you alone. It isn't until you are outside of the boisterous party that you speak.

"Where are we going?" Edmund stops to look around, before ushering you into a corridor adjacent to the party. "Edmund!"

"Shh!" His hand covers your mouth and he presses his front to yours, making sure you are silent and unseen as guests walk past the hall. He looks at you and almost melts at the beautiful, wide eyes looking up at him. He removes his hand from your mouth, placing it on the wall by your head. You don't even register that the other is on your waist.

You speak gently, making sure your voice is hushed.

"Edmund, why are you jealous?" Your husband takes a deep breath before glancing down the hallway. "Ed?" Your hand timidly reaches up to bring his face back to yours and his eyes widen at the contact.

"You were talking to another man. At the celebration of our wedding."

You had to stifle your shock.

"Edmund, you are my husband, you have no reason to be jealous of a prince from a neighboring kingdom." His lips quirk up a bit.

"How can I not be when you are showing more interest in anyone else but me? I am your husband and you are my wife. I should be by your side tonight." His words are so surprising and you are glad for the wall behind you, and the man in front of you, for the extra support to stand.

"I thought you would want your space."

"Why in Aslan's name would you think that?" You look at him again, taking him in completely, the way he looks in the blue fabric, his dark hair framing his face with that godforsaken crown making him look better than he had a few hours ago. "Y/N, why do you think I wouldn't want to be near you?" His eyes search yours and you blink away, far too flushed under his heavy gaze.

"You haven't ever wanted to before." The words hit him like bricks.

"What?"

The words begin to spill out before you can stop them.

"You always sleep on your side with your back to me, you are always gone when I wake up, I never see you except when you come to get ready for bed, and on our wedding night you didn't..." You push through the embarrassment. "You didn't even touch me. I know this marriage isn't what we had wanted but I thought that maybe we might have been friends-" Edmund cuts off your monologue with a kiss. Your first kiss since your wedding night.

His hand moves from the wall to your neck and the other pulls you to his body, needing to get closer to you.

Your body reacts immediately, melting into the kiss, hands resting on his waist.

It ends too soon, Edmund pulling away first, putting his hand back on the wall while he catches his breath, but the other remained on your waist.

"You think I don't want to be near you?" He stares at you with an incredulous look on his handsome face. The closeness of his face to yours is enough to make you blush, again. "Darling, I haven't..." He takes a moment to breathe, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I didn't touch you that night because I didn't want to hurt you. I'm so bloody drawn to you that I have to sleep on the opposite side of the bed turned away from you so I don't taint your virtue. I leave in the morning because-"

Your hand covers his mouth as another rowdy group of guests wanders by the corridor. You wait for them to leave before speaking again, keeping your hand plastered onto his face.

"So, you don't hate me?"

He shakes his head.

No.

"You never did?"

No.

You remove your hand from his mouth and the two of you just stare at each other. Unmoving. It feels like minutes pass before he covers your mouth with his again.

His hand returns to your neck, pulling you to him once more.

"I'm sorry I ever made you think I didn't want you. You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and I am the luckiest man alive to have you as my wife."

"Edmund..." The kind words hit you straight in the heart.

"And now, it seems I have something I have to make up for." His smirk appears and it sends your insides to mush.

"But Edmund I-"

"Shhhh." He smiles, his head dipping to yours. "Don't want to get caught, now do we?" He kisses you again, this one full of heat and passion, the lack of contact between you only adding fuel to the fire.,

Edmund pulls your body flush against his and groans into your mouth. You falter at the glorious sound but he is there to support you

His kisses travel down your neck to your collarbones.

"Edmund... What are you doing?"

"Making up for lost time, darling." He grins at you again. "Now be quiet." He kisses you again, his sneaky hands running down your sides to your skirt. He breaks the kiss to look down, his hands pulling the fabric up to your waist.

"Fuck." Your eyes went wide. You'd never heard Edmund use that kind of language before. His eyes lock on yours again.

He looks perfect. He's a king. Your king. Your husband.

"Are you ok with this?" You nod yes multiple times, making him smirk yet again, and then you gasp at the contact of his fingers against your womanhood. Your hands grip his shoulders for support, his muscles tensing at the fact that you are touching him. That he is touching you. His fingers find no resistance due to the effects of his words and his ego grows. You bury your face into his shirt when his fingers slip into you. Though foreign, it is an immensely pleasurable feeling and you can't help but want more.

Then he begins to move them. You push further into him to silence your mouth, the feeling far too wonderful to not have a vocal effect.

But then his thumb brushes on something that makes you let out a loud moan. Your face flushes in embarrassment.

"Do you want everyone to know that I'm defiling you in the hallway?"

Oh dear, you're afraid his words combined with whatever he is doing with his fingers are going to kill you.

He repeats the same action but kisses you once more, your moans muffled.

Edmund can tell you are getting close, you've begun to shake, you're gasping into his mouth, and you are practically rutting into his hand. He makes the conscious decision to break the kiss to suck on your neck, covering your mouth with his free hand to silence any escaping sounds. Then, his thumb presses up again and his fingers hook inside of you and you convulse around him.

He is in awe of how gorgeous you are and what he'd just done.

As you catch your breath, your trembling hands find the waistband of his trousers and gently begin unbuttoning them, eager for more. His eyes avert to what you're doing and he curses again. You falter.

"Do-do you want me to stop?" His head shakes back and forth.

"I think I'd die if you did, love."

Edmund begins kissing your neck once again while you free him from the confinement of his tight pants and you gasp. He laughs into your neck, sending goosebumps throughout your entire body.

"Don't get shy on me now, darling. You wanted this, right?" You nod and feel him smile into your skin.

He makes quick work of your undergarments, tossing them to the side, lining himself up with your lower half.

He halts and you look into his eyes, body shaking in need and anticipation for what you had been so scared of on your wedding night.

With your eyes on his, he pushes into you, stopping when you push against him.

"Are you alright?" His voice is next to your ear.

"Just one second." Edmund waits, trying to distract himself from the way your body is clenching around him. Your small voice brings him back to reality. "Edmund."

"Yes?" You notice the rasp in his voice, the strain in his muscles. To ease him, you follow your instincts and roll your hips against his and his hands grip your hips in response, stifling the moan wanting to leave his throat.

"Fuck. Y/N. You can't do that." It's your turn to smirk. You do it again and he presses your body back into the wall. The soft grip on your hips tightens and his eyes meet yours, blown with lust. Then, they narrow at the smirk on your lips. "Oh, so you think that's funny do you?" He begins to slide out of you and your eyes roll backwards. Then he slams back in.

The moan that escapes your lips sets a fire in him and his hand claps back over your mouth.

"How many times do I need to tell you to be quiet?" He begins to move his hips again, the feeling ten times more wonderful than just his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?" You can barely comprehend his hushed words. "Is that why you were flirting with him? To make me jealous so I'd finally touch you?" His free hand worms its way back to the apex of your thighs, finding that place that made you squirm in no time. "You're lucky I love you." You don't even register his words as you come undone.

Edmund follows behind, pushing into you one last time before falling into you. His breathing is labored and the two of you don't speak while you catch your breath.

"Edmund!" Your heads snap toward the sound of Peter yelling his name.

"Dammnit!" He quickly makes himself presentable and you follow suit, making sure your hair isn't wild and your skirts are back in place. He takes your hand, smiling at you, before leading you back out of the hallway.

"Edmund!" Peter's back was to you.

"Peter, stop yelling, I'm right here!" The High King turns around, a glare present on his face.

"Your guests are wondering where the two of you have been! You disappeared thirty minutes ago! Get back inside, now."

Edmund doesn't reply to his bother, opting for an eye roll instead. Then he turns to you offering you a bow.

"Shall we get back to the celebration, my queen?" You giggle.

"Let's."

...

Peter may have overreacted just a bit because the only people wondering where the two of you had gone was him.

Edmund pulled you to the ballroom floor, his arms draped around your waist. You settled yours around his shoulders with a smile. The rest of the party seemed to disappear as he bent down to place a soft kiss against your lips.

You rest your head against his shoulder and whisper into his ear.

"I love you too."

AHHHHH! Y'all I'm really proud of this and hope you enjoy it. :)

[viablemess]

So I was thinking about this scene right

And I'm convinced that this HAS to be an inside joke by Lucy and Edmund. Like they did get old(ish) together during the Golden Age.

I'm just imagining some Golden Age scenes right -

Susan is approached by a suitor who she ACTUALLY likes and maybe it is just a way to be petty towards Rabadash (I couldn't support it more) but Susan dances with and kisses him in front of everyone in Cair Paravel.

Lucy, in the middle of discovering there is a naiad woman she would absolutely die for: "I'm sure when I'm older I'll understand."

She told Peter about the naiad, of course. And Peter fully supported her OF COURSE. So, Peter, realizing his baby sister is also a questioning maybe-baby lesbian, just laughs.

Edmund is next to them, shirt collar tugged high over his neck to hide some hickeys, "I'm older and I don't think I want to understand." And Lucy and Peter both laugh bc Peter definitely walked in on Edmund and a male efreet who defected from the White Witch's army.

Just Peter shoved in the middle of his two gay siblings while watching Susan be the Token Straight. So whenever they see Susan with a guy, they crack the joke. They must. Edmund and Lucy are just waiting for the moment when they can make the joke with Susan cause Peter is with someone, but the situation has not arisen yet.

[queenlucythevaliant]

In Narnia, Right was right and courage came with clarity. Beauty abounded and Aslan, even across the sea, never felt so very far away.

That’s how they remembered it in England, at least. Three months gone and the edges were sanded down. Their children’s hearts remembered beauty and clung to victory. If you’re not an idealist when you’re young, there’s something wrong with you.

Peter said, and they all agreed, that their memories of Narnia were like books on a shelf. It was all still there, but filed away. To think of a particular summer dance or ship’s voyage, you had to pull the proper book from its shelf and turn the pages until you found the story you wanted. You could recall the events that way and it would be like any other memory: vivid but imperfect, bathed in old feelings and new, details intact but a fine mist of nostalgia covering the scene.

Their old skills were gone, but what use was swordsmanship in Britain? Most of the time, the Pevensie children scarcely noticed what they had lost. They played in forests and swam in ponds, went to the grocer’s and prepared for school to resume. They were children.

They thought of Narnia often, but it was as one remembers a glorious holiday by the seashore, or the most important novel you’ve ever read. It had changed their lives, but it was past, and memory; a secret language, and daydreams and play-battles out in the Professor’s woods.

Because they were children, the edges of their memories softened, they forgot the things that would have given them nightmares. Right was right in Narnia, after all. They did not remember the sticky, congealing mess of the Witch’s blood that clung to Aslan’s mouth after Beruna, when he had ripped her throat out and devoured her body. They forgot the visceral fear that Rabadash would manage to take Susan to wife by force, and what he would do to her if he did. They forgot the awful chaos of battle, the sickening stench of bellies hewn open and intestines spilling onto the sodden earth. They did not remember living to be twenty, thirty, fifty, sixty, growing old and aching with it, burying friends, and worrying about the succession. The burden of all those years would have broken any children so young.

After they were sent home for the last time, each of the Pevensie children found ways of remembering. Peter joined a fencing league, and soon found that old broadsword techniques would often flutter out of his memory’s pages and into his hands. Susan sketched until she didn’t, until she put away her pad full of fauns and castles and lions in a box of childhood nonsense—but it was many years before that happened. Edmund wrote pages and pages of reminiscences down, trying to externalize the books of his memory. Lucy daydreamed, and she dressed in bright Narnian colors, and sang Narnian songs, and a million other tiny things that scarcely anyone noticed. The Pevensie children found ways to remember. Narnia remained in their minds: a little distant, perhaps, but the ink never faded.

And one day, when he was ready, Edmund was trying to calm his father through the soldier’s panic that followed a car backfiring and he began to remember the feeling of having seen war. The book in his mind opened where the pages had been stuck together, and suddenly he knew how to help.

Lucy began to recall snatches of what it was like to grow old. She looked in on her grandparents more and more. “I know your knee isn’t what it used to be,” she smiled as she went to get the stepstool.

Susan held a classmate tight after a terrible, terrible night and trembled, remembering Rabadash’s hot breath on her face, the way he’d grabbed her forearms with bruising strength and demanded to kiss her. I understand, she whispered. It wasn’t your fault.

Peter, sitting in theology class, remembered the viscera around Aslan’s mouth and began to understand what justice meant.

The terrible parts came back in flashes as the children grew into young men and women. Memories of Narnia expanded to fit their older selves, old horrors and heartaches now many years past. Little by little, the Pevensie children grew back into themselves.

Two Lucys existed, one long past and one in the mirror. Two Edmunds, two Susans, two Peters. The present Lucy did not miss the woman she had grown to be in Narnia, except in rare instances. She had what she needed from her old self. She still had so much growing left to do.