#neverchristmas

about 5 years into the Golden Age, the Pevensies have to host a banquet for a bunch of neighboring kingdoms

Susan is, of course, Very Stressed about it and wants to make sure that everything goes absolutely perfectly

(this banquet could determine their relationships with the neighboring kingdoms for years to come, so very important)

then, a week before the banquet, Susan gets sick. nothing dangerous or life-threatening, think like the flu. enough to keep her in bed.

naturally, Susan panics a bit, or maybe a lot (“How am I going to plan this banquet and make sure that everything goes smoothly if I can’t even stay awake for more than five hours at a time and I’m not allowed to leave my bed??”)

the other three promise to follow all of the plans she already made, and to keep everything running smoothly, but things are still pretty chaotic

everyone is working overtime to make sure the banquet goes well, from decorating the castle to preparing food to picking the Pevensies’ outfits and everything in between

a bunch of fauns are decorating and cleaning the main entrance when Edmund comes up with a “brilliant” plan

he tells them to take a break (“Trust me, you guys have been working hard, Susan would want you to get your rest! You’ll do even better work after taking a break, I know it”)

when the fauns all finally leave, Edmund quietly and carefully drops puddles of purple paint in each entrance to the room

the fauns come back a little bit later, and very soon there are purple hoof-prints all over the room

the fauns are horrified, Edmund is cracking up

Lucy hears the ruckus and comes running in to the room and immediately freaks out at him, maybe taking things a little too far

(“Edmund! Do you not understand how important this is, not just to Susan, but to our whole kingdom? We’re not just normal kids anymore, and I know it’s impossible for you to grow up, but don’t you think you’ve made enough mistakes? We shouldn’t have to keep cleaning up after your messes.”)

Peter, who also heard the commotion, comes in just to hear Lucy make this speech, and immediately tries to make peace

(“Lucy, I get it, you’re stressed, but that doesn’t mean you can take it out on Edmund. Edmund, I know you were just trying to lighten the mood, but this really is serious.”)

Edmund is a bit heartbroken of course, and Lucy immediately feels very guilty for everything that she said

she tries to apologize, but Edmund very quickly leaves the room

Peter tells Lucy to let him go and stew if he needs to, and the two of them start helping the fauns to clean the room

later, they can’t find Edmund anywhere and maybe start to panic a little bit, enough that the two of them go to Susan for advice

they expect Susan to also freak out, but she just laughs (“I’m pretty sure Edmund learned his lesson about going off on his own about five years ago. He’s probably just trying to make it up to you, he’ll show up soon.”)

Lucy and Peter realize that she’s right, and they continue with the preparations, helping to clean the rest of the castle

when they get to the main banquet hall, they walk in and realize that everything is already cleaned and decorated to perfection

Edmund is standing a bit sheepishly in the middle of the room, grinning at the look on their faces (“Hey, you guys okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something. What, you didn’t think I was capable of a little bit of cleaning and decorating? I am, frankly, offended.”)

Lucy and Peter grin at each other, and then immediately run and tackle-hug Edmund, all three of them laughing as they fall to the floor

Lucy is still trying to apologize (“Edmund, I am so so so sorry for everything that I said, you know I’m just stressed and I didn’t mean any of it, you’re so important to me and I know you’re doing your best to keep the mood up, and you really are good at what you do…”)

Edmund is trying to make her stop apologizing (“Lu, it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to do this, prove to you guys, and maybe myself, that I could do something like this. I was happy to do it, and it actually was kind of fun to do all this decorating.”)

Peter is trying to get them back on track (“Alright, you two, if we don’t get back to work Susan is definitely going to kill us, and I don’t think any of us could stand up to her anger.”)

Susan is finally better the day before the banquet, and she walks through the entire castle about three times before admitting that her siblings did a good job (“Alright, I’m a little surprised, and I don’t like admitting this, but you three did everything exactly how I wanted it. It looks amazing.”)

the other three are touched, and know how much it means for Susan to admit that, but of course they decide to hold it over her head forever (“Hey Susan, remember that time we decorated the entire castle without you? And it turned out absolutely perfect? Even after you were freaking out and said that there was no way we could do it?”)

the banquet, of course, goes perfectly

the neighboring kingdoms are ridiculously impressed with the young kings and queens, and their diplomatic relationships are completely solid for a few years following it

(after the banquet is over and everyone else has gone back to their respective kingdoms, all four siblings sprint through the castle, pulling decorations off of walls and throwing things at each other, laughing and wrestling and just playing for hours)

“I’ve never needed to do it before!”

“I don’t know about that,” says Monty, thoughtful. “This is the first time you’ve asked, but I bet you’ve gotten in at least one fight at a wedding that could have been prevented with the buddy system.”

She pauses. “Okay, yeah, possibly. Which is all the more reason for you guys to help! All I want to do is make it through the weekend without making Lincoln and Octavia worry about me and Bellamy. It’s their wedding, they shouldn’t have to be putting out fires.”

“That’s legitimate and considerate,” says Monty. “Even if it’s sad that you can’t trust yourself to just leave him alone.”

“I can’t trust him to leave me alone.” Raven and Monty both look like they’re about to call bullshit on that one, so she hastens to add, “Okay, I don’t trust myself either. He just rubs me the wrong way!”

“Have you ever tried letting him rub you the right way?” Raven mutters, and Monty snickers.

Clarke ignores them. “I just want this to be a good weekend for everybody, okay?”

“Good goal,” says Raven. “You want to come up with a code word or something? You say it when you need help, or we say it when we think you need to leave a conversation.”

“If we have an actual code word, someone is definitely going to notice,” says Monty, not unreasonably. “Just text us if you need us.”

Raven snorts. “Sorry, one sec, just need to text my friends so that I won’t punch you.”

“He probably gets that a lot,” says Clarke. “Or he just gets punched.” She lets out a long breath. “Okay. Whatever. It’s a wedding. We’re going to have fun. Me and Bellamy aren’t going to murder each other.”

“It’s good to have goals,” says Monty, but he claps her on the shoulder with a smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” Raven agrees. “It’s going to be fun.”

*

In her defense, Bellamy does find her first. In his defense, it’s for official business.

“Hey, princess,” he says, with a nod. “O needs someone to go pick up gift bags. You’ve got a car, right?”

“Do you not have a car?” she asks, frowning. The wedding is at a cute little inn in the middle of nowhere; she thought everyone had a car.

“Miller and I carpooled, he’s picking Lincoln’s grandmother up from the airport. You mind driving some more? Or I can drive if you trust me with the car.”

She glances at Raven and Monty who are somehow already not helping with this. It’s been less than five minutes, and the whole plan is already falling apart.

Then again, if it’s just her and Bellamy in the car, it’s not like they can stress Lincoln and Octavia out. They’ll be on their own, away from everyone else, and maybe they can get all the fighting out of their systems now and be good for the rest of the weekend. And it’s not like she can say no without coming across like an asshole.

So she tosses him her keys. “You can drive. If you crash my car, I’m going to kill you.”

“If I crash your car, I’ll probably die in the crash and save you the trouble. Do you need to drop anything off?” he adds, actually looking a little sheepish. “I know you just got here, but I figure it’s going to be that kind of weekend.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind. I assume we need the room in the car, so let me get my stuff in my room. Shouldn’t take long.”

For a minute, it feels as if things might be different, better. Bellamy helps her take her bags up and asks how her job is going, polite and clearly on his best behavior, and Clarke responds in kind.

Then he turns on the car and the CD starts playing and he groans, “Jesus, is this yours?” and just like that, they’re off. Arguing about music turns into arguing about pop culture and then the gritty realism trend in media and beyond. By the time they get back to the inn with the gift bags, she’s wondering how it took them as long as it did to start fighting. Even ten minutes seems like a major victory.

Which is why, before they leave the car, she grabs his arm. “Look,” she says. “I know you don’t like me, and the feeling is mutual. But this is your sister and one of my best friends getting married. The least we can do is try to get along for a weekend so they don’t have to put up with us.”

His mouth tugs up at the corner. “We’re setting the bar that low, huh?”

“Sorry, do you think that’s not a stretch goal for us?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll try to stay away from you.”

“And not say shit about my music.”

“Let’s not get carried away.” He wets his lips, gives her a look she can’t quite read. “Okay, so–have a good weekend.”

“You too,” she says. “Looking forward to not seeing you.”

He snorts. “Same.”

*

It lasts about three hours, until the rehearsal dinner, when Clarke gets three cocktails in she can’t help thinking that going to antagonize Bellamy is a great idea. After all, he’s right there, and his hair is a mess, and he’s wearing the hell out of his suit.

Which obviously isn’t the reason to talk to him. There’s another reason to talk to him. Like proving she can. They can totally get along.

“Hi,” he says, when she makes her way over to him. “I thought we were avoiding each other.”

“No,” she says, pointed. “We’re just trying to get along.”

“By not seeing each other.”

“That’s one option. But we could also, you know–” She waves her hand, and his mouth twitches. “We can be adults.”

“You’re drunk.”

“And I’m an adult.”

“Yeah those are both definitely true.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, which is distracting. “I’m not drunk, so I’m going to make the smart decision here and leave this conversation before it goes wrong.”

“We don’t have to fight,” she says. “You’re not always an abrasive asshole. Sometimes you’re actually kind of okay.”

“Wow, yeah. This is really convincing me we’re going to be fine.” He takes a sip of his drink, looks around like he’s checking for witnesses. “Do we have a safe topic of conversation?”

“I’m really happy for Lincoln and Octavia.”

“Huh,” he says, neutral, and Clarke stares.

“Wait, are you actually saying you’re not happy for them?”

“No, I said huh. Totally different thing.”

“But you’re not happy for them.”

“I’m happy for them. I just don’t get the big deal about marriage.”

She frowns, looks down at her glass like it will have some kind of explanation for her. But, of course, nothing. “What’s to get? It’s marriage.”

“Yeah, and I think it’s kind of–” He shrugs one shoulder. “Aside from tax benefits, it doesn’t make much sense to me, as an institution. It feels outdated. So, don’t get me wrong, I’m happy that they found each other and love each other, but this seems like kind of a huge waste of money.”

Clarke wouldn’t have said she was a huge supporter of marriage, but it wasn’t as if she was against it, either. Marriage is marriage; she always figured someday she’d meet someone she liked enough to spend the rest of her life with, and then she’d marry them.

“So, you think weddings are too expensive.”

“That’s objectively true. But I also think–” He shrugs. “I don’t see the appeal. I’m not religious, and I don’t like–I don’t want to force someone to be with me.”

“It’s not forcing someone,” she says. “They agreed to marry you.”

“And if they change their mind, it’s a huge fucking pain.”

“So, your objection to marriage is that you might eventually get divorced? And if you do, it’s harder than if you weren’t married?”

“How is that not true?”

“Maybe some people want that. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. You like someone so much you’re willing to attach yourself to them, and willing to put up with all the trouble of getting rid of them if you ever want to. They’re worth fighting for and keeping.”

Clarke didn’t have much of a plan going into that speech, but once she gets through it, she feels like it’s pretty good. Very stirring.

So it’s annoying when Bellamy says, “Yeah, no.”

“No? Just like that, no.”

“Just like what? I’m not saying that you can’t get married, just that I don’t want to.”

“What if you were in a serious relationship with someone who cared about it? Is it a deal breaker for you?”

He has to think that over. “I don’t think I could ever marry anyone who wanted a giant wedding. You don’t think that shows a major difference in values?”

“I think–”

“Clarke!” says Monty. “Great. Come with me, I need you.”

“What?” Clarke asks, but he’s already dragging her away.

“We had a plan, remember?” he asks. “No Bellamy. For everyone’s own good.”

“Yeah, but–” She frowns. “It was going okay.”

“You were about to start yelling at him.”

It’s probably true, but still. “I was having fun.”

Monty sighs. “Yeah. I know. That’s the problem.”

*

She’s assuming they’ll pick up the conversation the next time she sees him, but Bellamy’s acting weird the next day, actually avoiding her, which she’ll admit she wasn’t expecting. They’ve said they’re going to have a truce before, and they’ve always managed to find each other and start fighting in no time. That’s just how they are. She doesn’t get why Bellamy is suddenly actually doing his part for peaceful relations.

Or she doesn’t until she overhears Monty and Bellamy’s friend Miller talking on her way to Lincoln’s dressing room.

They don’t see her, of course, but she catches Monty saying her name, and she can’t help stopping to listen in.

“Of course he wants to talk to Clarke,” Miller replies, to whatever Monty said. “Come on, you know he’s totally in love with Clarke. But he doesn’t know how to interact so he just does that fucking dumbass middle-school shit instead of having a fucking conversation.”

“That sucks. I feel like if they could ever stop arguing, they might have a shot.”

“Story of Bellamy’s life. Avoiding her might be an improvement, I don’t fucking know.” He sighs. “Whatever. Want to get in a round of Mario Kart before the ceremony?”

They leave, but Clarke is stuck, rooted to her spot.

Bellamy’s in love with her. Bellamy. The guy she can’t stop fighting with. The guy who just the other night told her how he doesn’t believe in marriage.

Bellamy.

It distracts her all through the wedding, not that that’s a surprise. Bellamy’s right across the aisle from her, his hair somewhat in order for once, wearing a tux, and he’s always been handsome, but–

Fuck, he’s so hot. He’s hot and smart and she never runs out of things to say to him, and they might fight, but she doesn’t actually get mad at him much, not really. They bicker, and they disagree, but he always has an interesting point of view.

She missed fighting with him, this weekend. She had to stop herself going to look for him, and she’s been thinking about him basically non-stop, even before she heard he was in love with her, and now she knows he is, and, honestly, it’s the best news she’s had this weekend. Hell, this year. It’s not even close.

He dances the father/daughter dance with his sister, and once that’s done, Clarke goes to him.

“Not worried about making a scene?” he asks, mild. Clarke knew he had a lot of freckles, but it’s hitting her hard now. “We’re talking again?”

“I wanted to ask you to dance, actually.”

“Dance?”

She just holds out her hand, and when he takes it, his smile shy, it feels like possibilities, and when he kisses her at the end of the night, it feels like a promise.

*

Raven spills the beans three weeks later, when they’re all out for drinks.

“I’m so fucking glad that worked.”

Clarke frowns. “What worked?”

Raven, Monty, and Miller exchange looks. “Uh, you didn’t figure it out?” she asks.

“Figure what out?”

“We might have told some deliberate lies and had you guys eavesdrop on us,” Monty says. “Me and Miller spent like three hours trying to position ourselves so you’d hear us talking about how you were in love with each other.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to look at Bellamy, who shrugs one shoulder. “I missed that. But it’s not like they were wrong.”

Her smile goes goofy. “I guess not. As long as I don’t want to marry you,” she teases.

“It’s not a deal breaker,” he says, grinning. “If you ever want to marry me, we can talk about it.”

And, admittedly, a few years later she does, but mostly for the tax benefits. They go to the courthouse and have a nice dinner, and after, she says, “Thanks for compromising your principles to marry me.”

He kisses her shoulder. “Just don’t make me get a divorce, okay? That would be a pain.”