That night, Edmund came in smelling of forest, of wind in his hair, and, a little, of the dark-haired beauty who'd run beside him. She'd told him she didn't care if he smelled wrong; she could be alpha enough for both of them. It sat strangely with him, but it also felt good to stretch his legs, to arch his back and lash his tail and run. Kala made it possible. No stray alpha would dare attack them hunting together. Edmund was aware too of the significance of this custom, for one of the few times that Panthers hunted in pack was during courtship. There was nothing official, no documents of intent, just her flanks rubbing against him after they'd feasted, leaving her scent on him.
It was a chaste courtship by his usual standards. He should have long bedded her by now. Every time he considered it, his mind brought him back to that night in the tent with Al, and the smell of him so perfect that anything else seemed mere garbage by comparison. Until he felt that way about someone else, Edmund promised himself, he wouldn't take another to his bed.
And he did have to take someone else, eventually. Peter - the pride had such strict standards of mating, he might never marry. Susan and Lucy might have their discreet dalliances, and their declared suitors, but they would take their time, he knew, finding mates who were right for Narnia as well as to be their consort. It was Edmund's clear duty. To feel something for someone else besides a self-banished Lion who didn't want him.
He'd know that scent anywhere. He quickly shifted, dressing himself in the clothes he'd left by the stewards' entrance, and padded silently towards the source of it.
"Dusting vases?" was the quiet husk that split the silence, a faint smile on Edmund's face. Al.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2018-07-19 11:17 pm (UTC)It was a chaste courtship by his usual standards. He should have long bedded her by now. Every time he considered it, his mind brought him back to that night in the tent with Al, and the smell of him so perfect that anything else seemed mere garbage by comparison. Until he felt that way about someone else, Edmund promised himself, he wouldn't take another to his bed.
And he did have to take someone else, eventually. Peter - the pride had such strict standards of mating, he might never marry. Susan and Lucy might have their discreet dalliances, and their declared suitors, but they would take their time, he knew, finding mates who were right for Narnia as well as to be their consort. It was Edmund's clear duty. To feel something for someone else besides a self-banished Lion who didn't want him.
He'd know that scent anywhere. He quickly shifted, dressing himself in the clothes he'd left by the stewards' entrance, and padded silently towards the source of it.
"Dusting vases?" was the quiet husk that split the silence, a faint smile on Edmund's face. Al.