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narniaexchangeTitle: pieces fall together
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
animus_wyrmis
Recipient:l_a_r_m
Rating: PG-13
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Consent issues
Summary: Liliandil tries to remember. Or, the AU where the Lady of the Green Kirtle takes the queen instead of the prince.
pieces fall together
She remembers a snake, and—
No, that’s not it. There was a woman, a beautiful woman, and she said, “My love, I’ve missed you,” and although Lili hadn’t recognized her she had known her, known her in the way of dreams and portents, known her in the march of the stars across the sky at night, and the woman had said, “But you look so cold—”
But she wasn’t cold then, no, it was summer then, and she had been queen, and the day had been warm, and there had been the green of the grass, the green of the woman, Lili had been warm, so warm, and the woman’s hands—
No, no, no.
+
She wishes for her father. She wishes for her island. Any moment now she will wake and see the beach, the empty waves crashing against the shore. The birds will come from the sun and she will collect their feathers and sew them into a blanket, into a hundred blankets, and ward off the chill and the dark and the damp.
But no, no, this is a new dark, this is the dark of a place that never sees the sun. Why has she been brought here? Who is this woman who hates the light? Who is this woman who straps her into a chair and cradles her face and kisses away her tears? The chair is carved metal and cool under her hands. The ropes restrain her without hurting even when she screams.
“Soon you will not need them, sweet,” whispers the woman.
+
Somewhere she has a son.
“I thought you said the sun was a lamp in the sky,” the woman whispers into her throat. “I thought you said the sun was so much larger than a woman.”
But they are different, the sun and her child. The one is in the sky and the other came out of her womb, the one is a lamp—no—larger—the largest lamp she has ever seen, and the other is a human.
“But my love, you are no more human than I am.”
No, but Caspian—
+
Caspian’s kisses were never like this.
+
Before this place there was the island, but after the island there was another place—
“My love, what are these far-off realms you wish for? Perhaps you saw them in a dream and think they must be real?”
But it is real, this other place, the place with the sun. The place before the woman, where the skies were as blue as the sea—
“What is this sea you speak off, my love?”
Water, so much water—
“Enough water for a man to drink, my love?”
More water than that, water as far as the eye could see—
“Is that where you drank? Are you thirsty?”
But the sea is salty, Lili tries to say. The men who drink it go mad. She cannot drink the sea or she will go mad herself. And if she is mad she cannot think her way out of this chair, cannot find her way back to the sun. She wrenches her arms at the ropes and pulls and pulls.
“There, there, my dear.”
But Rilian will be waiting—
“There, hush now.”
But Rilian—
“Shh.”
Rilian—
+
The sea was sweet once. Caspian came for her with a girl, or maybe a girl came for her with Caspian. The girl was not like the woman. She was younger and plainer and she laughed without thinking and Lili took her hand and they waded into the sea, and it was sweet then, the sea, and the girl laughed and drank it—
+
The girl came on a ship with a dragon at the prow. She followed men who slept at her table, men with sails in tatters, men who touched the knife, the knife that Lili kept—
The knife—
Pain arcs across her face and the chair rocks back. “Don’t speak of it,” the woman hisses. “Don’t ever speak of it.”
But it was there, Lili knows. The knife was there. She never touched it, but the men touched it, the men who slept, they touched the knife and there was a roar like the sea and—
The chair crashes to the floor and Lili lurches against the bonds. Her arms are numb but she still feels the ropes. “Don’t you ever speak of it,” the woman says, and she is lengthening, growing, her clothes are turning rough, they adhere to her skin like scales—
A snake, the snake is in front of her, and Lili remembers the snake, the snake that reared at her in the garden, the snake that was the woman, the woman that kissed her, the snake that bit her, and it rears in front of her again, green scales like emeralds and a tongue like a knife. If Lili had a knife she could cut the ropes, she could find the sea again, the sea and the girl. Somewhere the girl is wading in the sea. Somewhere Caspian is waiting by a ship. Somewhere the knife is waiting on a table. Somewhere the girl is waiting. Somewhere the sea. Somewhere the sun.
“There is no sun,” hisses the snake, the woman. “There is no sea. There is no girl.” The scales are a dress again, the tongue is a tongue, the lips are lips and they are on hers. “No sun,” the woman whispers against her neck. “No husband. No child. Only you, only me, and I am yours and you are mine.”
I don’t want to be yours, Lili tries to say, I will never be yours, you were the snake in the garden who bit my heel, you were the woman in the garden who kissed my breast, you led me down to the dark but I will find my way home, I will, I remember—
+
The Lady unties the ropes around her wrists and kisses her way around the marks. “I’ve missed you, my love,” she whispers.
“Was I that bad?” she murmurs, letting the Lady lead her to bed and help her onto the cushions. “Was I ranting again?”
“Oh, the things you say, sweet. Going on about a girl, and a ship, and your son.”
“But I have no children,” she says, laughing. “It is just me and you, and I am sane and whole again, yours for the whole day.”
“Kiss me until I forget what terrible things you said,” the Lady orders, and she laughs and covers her in kisses until they have both forgotten the night and the chair and the madness.
+
Caspian tosses in his too-large bed, his son pacing alone in the gardens.
+
The waves crash.
+
She remembers a snake.
Original Prompt that we sent you:
What I want:
Lucy/Caspian of any kind or rating; femslash anything; love triangles and illegitimate babies; outrageous AUs; genderswap; Star Wars, Merlin, or The Borgias crossovers; painting, sculpture, or any kind of art; natural disasters; doomed romance and pining; Susan in Calormen; Susan/Rabadash; adventure, comedy, or a mix of anything clever; Calormene anything; the ocean; Shakespearean themes; gay Eustace or gay Edmund; steampunk Narnia; Peter feeling out of place; female characters being empowered and awesome. I am down with most pairings but Lucian is my favorite! I like pretty much anything dramatic, dynamic, beautiful. I love fics that you can hear the score to. I also love wit and punch.
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever:
1.
2. The death of Rilian's mother reimagined as a seduction, where Lady of the Green Kirtle distracts, diverts, pleasures, and captivates Ramandu's daughter before ultimately killing her.
3.
4. Frank Cadogan Cowper, The Four Queens Find Lancelot Sleeping
Author:
animus_wyrmisRecipient:
l_a_r_mRating: PG-13
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Consent issues
Summary: Liliandil tries to remember. Or, the AU where the Lady of the Green Kirtle takes the queen instead of the prince.
pieces fall together
She remembers a snake, and—
No, that’s not it. There was a woman, a beautiful woman, and she said, “My love, I’ve missed you,” and although Lili hadn’t recognized her she had known her, known her in the way of dreams and portents, known her in the march of the stars across the sky at night, and the woman had said, “But you look so cold—”
But she wasn’t cold then, no, it was summer then, and she had been queen, and the day had been warm, and there had been the green of the grass, the green of the woman, Lili had been warm, so warm, and the woman’s hands—
No, no, no.
+
She wishes for her father. She wishes for her island. Any moment now she will wake and see the beach, the empty waves crashing against the shore. The birds will come from the sun and she will collect their feathers and sew them into a blanket, into a hundred blankets, and ward off the chill and the dark and the damp.
But no, no, this is a new dark, this is the dark of a place that never sees the sun. Why has she been brought here? Who is this woman who hates the light? Who is this woman who straps her into a chair and cradles her face and kisses away her tears? The chair is carved metal and cool under her hands. The ropes restrain her without hurting even when she screams.
“Soon you will not need them, sweet,” whispers the woman.
+
Somewhere she has a son.
“I thought you said the sun was a lamp in the sky,” the woman whispers into her throat. “I thought you said the sun was so much larger than a woman.”
But they are different, the sun and her child. The one is in the sky and the other came out of her womb, the one is a lamp—no—larger—the largest lamp she has ever seen, and the other is a human.
“But my love, you are no more human than I am.”
No, but Caspian—
+
Caspian’s kisses were never like this.
+
Before this place there was the island, but after the island there was another place—
“My love, what are these far-off realms you wish for? Perhaps you saw them in a dream and think they must be real?”
But it is real, this other place, the place with the sun. The place before the woman, where the skies were as blue as the sea—
“What is this sea you speak off, my love?”
Water, so much water—
“Enough water for a man to drink, my love?”
More water than that, water as far as the eye could see—
“Is that where you drank? Are you thirsty?”
But the sea is salty, Lili tries to say. The men who drink it go mad. She cannot drink the sea or she will go mad herself. And if she is mad she cannot think her way out of this chair, cannot find her way back to the sun. She wrenches her arms at the ropes and pulls and pulls.
“There, there, my dear.”
But Rilian will be waiting—
“There, hush now.”
But Rilian—
“Shh.”
Rilian—
+
The sea was sweet once. Caspian came for her with a girl, or maybe a girl came for her with Caspian. The girl was not like the woman. She was younger and plainer and she laughed without thinking and Lili took her hand and they waded into the sea, and it was sweet then, the sea, and the girl laughed and drank it—
+
The girl came on a ship with a dragon at the prow. She followed men who slept at her table, men with sails in tatters, men who touched the knife, the knife that Lili kept—
The knife—
Pain arcs across her face and the chair rocks back. “Don’t speak of it,” the woman hisses. “Don’t ever speak of it.”
But it was there, Lili knows. The knife was there. She never touched it, but the men touched it, the men who slept, they touched the knife and there was a roar like the sea and—
The chair crashes to the floor and Lili lurches against the bonds. Her arms are numb but she still feels the ropes. “Don’t you ever speak of it,” the woman says, and she is lengthening, growing, her clothes are turning rough, they adhere to her skin like scales—
A snake, the snake is in front of her, and Lili remembers the snake, the snake that reared at her in the garden, the snake that was the woman, the woman that kissed her, the snake that bit her, and it rears in front of her again, green scales like emeralds and a tongue like a knife. If Lili had a knife she could cut the ropes, she could find the sea again, the sea and the girl. Somewhere the girl is wading in the sea. Somewhere Caspian is waiting by a ship. Somewhere the knife is waiting on a table. Somewhere the girl is waiting. Somewhere the sea. Somewhere the sun.
“There is no sun,” hisses the snake, the woman. “There is no sea. There is no girl.” The scales are a dress again, the tongue is a tongue, the lips are lips and they are on hers. “No sun,” the woman whispers against her neck. “No husband. No child. Only you, only me, and I am yours and you are mine.”
I don’t want to be yours, Lili tries to say, I will never be yours, you were the snake in the garden who bit my heel, you were the woman in the garden who kissed my breast, you led me down to the dark but I will find my way home, I will, I remember—
+
The Lady unties the ropes around her wrists and kisses her way around the marks. “I’ve missed you, my love,” she whispers.
“Was I that bad?” she murmurs, letting the Lady lead her to bed and help her onto the cushions. “Was I ranting again?”
“Oh, the things you say, sweet. Going on about a girl, and a ship, and your son.”
“But I have no children,” she says, laughing. “It is just me and you, and I am sane and whole again, yours for the whole day.”
“Kiss me until I forget what terrible things you said,” the Lady orders, and she laughs and covers her in kisses until they have both forgotten the night and the chair and the madness.
+
Caspian tosses in his too-large bed, his son pacing alone in the gardens.
+
The waves crash.
+
She remembers a snake.
Original Prompt that we sent you:
What I want:
Lucy/Caspian of any kind or rating; femslash anything; love triangles and illegitimate babies; outrageous AUs; genderswap; Star Wars, Merlin, or The Borgias crossovers; painting, sculpture, or any kind of art; natural disasters; doomed romance and pining; Susan in Calormen; Susan/Rabadash; adventure, comedy, or a mix of anything clever; Calormene anything; the ocean; Shakespearean themes; gay Eustace or gay Edmund; steampunk Narnia; Peter feeling out of place; female characters being empowered and awesome. I am down with most pairings but Lucian is my favorite! I like pretty much anything dramatic, dynamic, beautiful. I love fics that you can hear the score to. I also love wit and punch.
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever:
1.
2. The death of Rilian's mother reimagined as a seduction, where Lady of the Green Kirtle distracts, diverts, pleasures, and captivates Ramandu's daughter before ultimately killing her.
3.
4. Frank Cadogan Cowper, The Four Queens Find Lancelot Sleeping
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-25 12:59 am (UTC)This is a really different way of telling the same story, but switching out the mother taking the place of the son. It's very effective at giving you a different view of The Silver Chair. I also liked how she clings to the memories of the knife, the sea, her son, her husband, and the light of the sun and the girl who are very much the same -- the girl whose name means light.
Well done!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:10 am (UTC)It was a really strange piece to write and I was amazed by how much creepier it felt to me once a woman was being victimized instead of Rilian. :/
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-25 01:18 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:10 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-25 02:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:12 am (UTC)Yes, I only half subscribe to the theory of All Witches Are The Same Witch but for general creepiness it really can't be beat, and it does make the LotGK much scarier for me!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-25 02:28 am (UTC)Liliiiiiiiiiiii!
And the Eurydice-parallel being continued, and Lucy at the sea, and the sun/son pun - oh, just the flow of it, the rhythm; it reads like a heartbeat to me, sometimes more regulated, then pounding faster - excellent all around.
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:13 am (UTC)Omgggg right I went ALL OUT with Eurydice SNAKE BITING YOUR HEEL TAKES YOU AWAY FROM YOUR HUSBAND FOREVERRRRR because it's really really similar.
it reads like a heartbeat to me, sometimes more regulated, then pounding faster
<3333333
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-25 06:26 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:15 am (UTC)Re-reading TSC, the creepiest part for me was the way that Rilian had nooooo idea who he was during the day, he was just completely brainwashed and enchanted to her will. Uuuugh.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-25 10:39 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-25 01:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-27 04:53 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-08-28 03:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:17 am (UTC)Somehow the two of them losing their identities so completely is the freakiest part to me.
PS Thank you for running this again this year!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-01 04:44 pm (UTC)Thanks for writing!
(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-09-08 02:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2013-06-12 04:17 am (UTC)