I've noticed that Lucy doesn't get nearly enough romance in the fanfiction archives, so I'm out to set the record straight, much like I have with my TricOC oneshot series. I'm hoping to give well written OC's (I try not to make any of them Gary Stu's or I think i would die of mortification) a chance with these's underappreciated characters. Most, if not all of them will be men, as I suck badly at female characters, despite the fact that I am a girl.

Disclaimer: If I was C.S Lewis, I would be dead, so no, only Wϋlf belongs to me...and Lucy

Well...onward.

Lucy smiled as the warm sea breeze rushed through her hair, the flapping sounds of the rigging slapping against canvas and the creak of wood as it strained against the ocean soothing as it washed over her ears. It was a quiet relief to be aboard the Splendour Hyaline after their visit to Calormen, the soft ache of worry that had been bothering her over her sister's predicament was all but gone now, washed away by the sound of waves against the hull of this wonderful ship.

The sun was setting on the aquamarine horizon, sending a kaleidoscope of colors against her face, sending waves of warmth and contentment over her body. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her brother Edmund lounging on a hammock in the sun, enjoying the last few rays of light until he was forced back inside of his cabin. Peter was talking to Captain Marius, most likely discussing the best way to avoid the shoals that dotted the islands before the port at Cair Paravel. Corin was high in the Crow's Nest, laughing with one of the ships boys that were apprenticed to the seamen. Susan, Lucy suspected, was hidden away in her cabin, avoiding the browning sun on her porcelain white skin.

"You know," Lucy smiled out at the white crested waves. "You always were horrible at sneaking up on me Wϋlf."

She heard a frustrated sigh before she was joined at the rail. Lucy grinned up at the frowning copper skinned man who was at least a head taller than her, patting him consolingly on the shoulder. His hair was black and cropped close to his head, revealing a sharp jaw and somber green eyes. Over his back, a bow taller than even her brother Peter was slung.

"How do you always do that?" Wϋlf asked sternly, eliciting a giggle from the amused sixteen year old. "It's not fair milady."

"If I can hear danger before my own guard, I fear for my safety, Guardsman." Lucy murmured well naturedly, leaning over the rail again to stare into the green depths.

Wϋlf frowned again, before smiling slightly and dipping his long arm into the water-

"Don't even think about it." Wulf sighed again…before he was soaked through by a laughing Lucy.

"Oi!" Wϋlf said indignantly, stalking after the retreating Lucy. Many of the sailors who bustled around the ship laughed openly at the almost daily interaction between guard and royal. Others, such as the High King, King Edmund, and Mr. Tumnus, ignored it altogether.

Lucy giggled as she flitted through one of the open doorways that lead to the under the Quarter Deck to the Royal Cabins, the flash of her blue cotton summer gown the only indication of where she had gone. Wϋlf kept his face tight in concentration as he chased her down the short hallway, breaking left as he saw her form turn again, her smile radiant, even as breathless as she was.

Wϋlf smiled slightly, dashing down the last few steps until he found himself in a small (but still spacious for a mere galleon) room, cozily decorated, but not lavished upon, like the Queen's Susan's own chambers.

Queen Lucy herself was sitting, breathless and smiling, in a comfortable armchair nestled in the corner of the cabin, laughing her open smile at his wet face and shoulders.

"Foul play, milady." Wϋlf admonished, taking his quiver and bow off of his shoulder and setting it lightly on the floor. "Not proper behavior for a Queen of Narnia."

Lucy rolled her blue eyes, her mouth quirking into a scowl. "Must you quote Susan at me all the time Wϋlf?"

Wϋlf smiled a crooked half smile. "Someone has to keep you in line, milady, otherwise you would be out with the dryads, frolicking about in naught but your underskirts."

Lucy grinned guiltily, before another look, a sly one, came over her face. "Ah, but I do frolic in naught but my underskirts, and sometimes considerably less." Lucy smiled at the blushing face of Wϋlf. "Or perhaps you have forgotten that night in the Tisroc's Palace…?"

"No needs to bring that up, milady, I remember quite well, thank you." Wϋlf muttered, the tips of his ears red.

"But I think you have forgotten." Lucy murmured, reaching his tall form. Her small, hands, dwarfed in his own, caressed his cheeks, feeling the coarse stubble that rubbed pleasurably against her hands.

Wϋlf smiled and leaned into her touch, the part of his soul he had tucked Lucy into melting at her soft hands as they stroked his hair and smoothed his brow. He liked the fact that they had not a torrid love affair as those sung by the bards, but instead, they were more like each other's security blanket. Although…

Wϋlf pressed his lips to Lucy's and felt her smile against him, her hands already unbuttoning the collar of his wet shirt.

Sometimes they gave into temptation.