Secret Santa: Day 8
Dec. 31st, 2010 07:42 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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nffr_partyOver a week of presents, and the giving is STILL not done! Santa has told me that we'll post the rest of our presents tomorrow, January 1, 2011. Thanks for everybody's patience, and I hope everybody has enjoyed this little exchange as much as we have!
A fic for TimeMage0955
On the Formation of a Narnian Council
The White Witch had not been dead for more than a week when the first expatriates began to make their way back into Narnia. At first they came from Archenland, trickling over the mountain pass in twos and threes, a badger here, a group of hedgehogs there. In the month following they started arriving in larger and larger groups: a hastily-commandeered merchant ship from Galma, a parade of rough men and women on rougher Talking Horses from the mostly uncivilized western borders, some of the nicer sort of Giants from Ettinsmoor. But it was the caravan of young men and women from Calormen that made the biggest stir. They arrived at the gates of Cair Paravel in the middle of the morning on a Tuesday, when Edmund was instructing the gardeners about the new hedges and Lucy was practicing her archery with Cloudbreak.
"We're here to speak with the kings and queens," said the first rider, dismounting very gracefully from a bay mare and shaking her hair away from her face. "We've ridden straight from Calavar. Our great- grandparents fled Narnia during the reign of the Witch, but we want to come back."
"I'll be right back," Edmund said to the head gardener. "Would you send someone to tell Susan and Peter, please?"
"Hello!" he heard Lucy say as he approached. "I'm Lucy, we're so glad to meet you."
"Your Majesty," said the woman, dropping into a curtsey. "I am Rahat. We are a hundred strong and all prepared to do whatever you ask of us." Behind her, the rest of the riders were dismounting and dropping to their knees, and others were stepping out of wagons and pulling off hats.
"Lady Rahat," Edmund said, feeling terribly silly, "please do rise. Er, perhaps we could escort you to the stables? I'm Edmund," he added, as an afterthought, and was horribly embarrassed when they all went into bows and curtseys again; none of them had got used to that yet.
"That would be splendid, Your Majesties, but please, it's just Rahat," she said. In a few moments, she had explained the plan to two or three other Calormenes, and each horse was being led across the lawn toward the stable. Rahat did not say anything as they walked, until finally Edmund realized that perhaps she was waiting for them to speak. It was the worst part of court protocol, Edmund thought, kicking a little at the dirt. Just when a person wanted to have a regular conversation with another person, court protocol happened and no one could sit down until he did, or eat until he lifted his fork, or any number of other highly silly things.
"You said you were from Calavar?" Edmund asked. "How long a journey was it?"
"Oh, about a week, sire," Rahat said, "but we rode hard most of the way. We were most anxious to get here and would have been here much sooner, but of course it took some time to prepare."
"Of course," Lucy said, shooting Edmund a look that said quite plainly, How long do you think it takes to prepare a caravan of a hundred people?
"Brin!" Edmund called when they reached the stable doors.
"Your Majesties," Brin whinnied. "And I see you've brought me some cousins." After that everything grew a bit confused, with a hundred Calormenes pressing to see a real Talking Horse and another hundred dumb horses pressing to be near the hay. In the end it turned out to be simplest to leave the horses with fifteen or twenty of the Calormenes, to be brushed and stabled, and to send another ten or fifteen to supervise the wagons, and to send the rest with Mrs. Beaver to see about rooms.
At first Edmund had been worried there wouldn't be enough rooms made up, but Rahat had said, "Oh, we've been sleeping on the ground, it's no bother," and a girl had made her way to the front and said, "We'll certainly help you in any way we can, Mrs. Beaver," and Mrs. Beaver had finally smiled and said, "Well, we'll work something out, and you'll all have somewhere to sleep tonight at least."
That left Rahat standing with Lucy and Edmund and four other Calormenes, who went round and introduced themselves. The woman standing on Rahat's right was Elif, from Tashbaan proper; next to her was Hazan Tarkheena, who admitted with a slight flush that she was not Narnian at all ("Descended in a direct line from Tash on both sides, Your Majesties"), but a good friend of Elif's and a cousin of Rahat’s; next there was Mazhar, and between him and Rahat was Peridan. Mazhar made a very formal bow when he said his name, but Peridan only bowed awkwardly and smiled. "I suppose we should go into the library," said Edmund. They had cleaned up the Throne Room first, but frankly he did not like it much; it was large and airy and tended to echo, and Edmund and Lucy both rather felt like someone was going to come shoo them out. So in general they discussed matters in the library, which was smaller and cozier.
Peter was nowhere to be found ("Off discussing plans for the harbor with the merpeople, Your Majesty," said Mr. Beaver), but Susan was pulled away from the crop accounts to come meet the new arrivals. Edmund made the introductions and there was another round of curtseys and bows before Susan said, "Let's get to numbers. You said you're a hundred strong, with a hundred horses? We certainly have room for you." She was spreading out a map as she spoke. The four of them had gotten into something of a system with the new Narnians: they tried to put people as close to their ancestral homes (if such things could be determined), making sure that none of the new settlements hit too close to any existing settlements. In general species seemed to want to stay segregated, although Susan thought it was
particularly important to mix them. "I wonder if that was part of the problem before the Witch," she said. "Divide and conquer, you know."
“Not everyone remembers where their families came from, Your Majesties,” Rahat said. “But I have a map for those who do.” She pulled a folded sheet of parchment from inside her shirt and spread it on the library table in front of Susan. Peridan, Elif, and Mazhar spread out so they could see it, and Edmund and Lucy leaned over the table. “Sixty have ties to specific areas, mostly in the southeast. The rest of us have no connections here. Of course we are all at your disposal, and will go where you wish.”
“We will do our best to see that you are all located as close to your homes as possible,” Susan said with a smile. “Now, why don’t you tell us more about your group? What are your ages? What are your skills?”
+
The eight of them talked for several hours, and then Mrs. Beaver appeared to take the five Calormenes to their rooms (Rahat and Peridan insisted on sleeping in the stables). At last Susan drew up an armchair, Lucy uncorked a bottle of wine, and Edmund added a log to the fire. “Let’s talk about them,” Lucy said. “I do like them, don’t you?”
“I thought they all seemed very interesting,” Susan agreed. “We’ll want to interview the rest , of course.” They had developed a system—it wasn’t a very thorough system, Edmund thought, but it was the only thing they could pull together at such short notice—for placing immigrants. The idea was that they could put together villages of people who knew and loved each other already, but also be sure to mix the populations.
“Do you think Beavers’ Dam and Beruna?” Edmund asked. “Or Glasswater Creek?”
“All three,” Susan said. “Glasswater Creek needs carpenters badly, and I thought the blacksmiths to Beaver’s Dam and Beruna.”
“I think we should ask some of them to stay here,” Lucy said suddenly.
“Why’s that, Lu?”
“Well, we’re kings and queens now,” she said slowly. “So we’re going to need ambassadors and spies and generals and advisors and—oh, all sorts of things. I think we should ask some of people to stay with us instead of going off to start villages. I think we should ask Drynelf and Darrel from the ship that came in, and Bumblethorn the giant, and I think we should ask Rahat.”
“And Peridan,” Edmund said slowly. “He’s descended from Narnian nobility, isn’t he? And I liked him.”
Susan nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. I wanted to ask Rahat to stay for a while and tell us about Calormen anyway, and if Hazan is really an important tarkheena there then we should keep her on as an ambassador, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “We’ll need someone they can take seriously. And someone to tell us all the—you know, tell us how not to embarrass ourselves.”
“I’m sure we won’t embarrass ourselves,” Edmund said with more confidence than he felt. “But I think that’s a good idea. We should get Peter’s input, though.”
“I say, I’d nearly forgotten,” Susan said.
“Forgotten what?” came Peter’s voice as the door swung open. Peter looked like he had been swimming; his clothes were wet and his boots squelched on the floor. Susan made a face.
“Forgotten that we ought to get your thoughts before we appointed a council,” she said. “But now I think perhaps we oughtn’t to listen to you at all. Is it too much to find a towel, Peter?”
Peter grimaced. “I’ve been arguing with the matriarch of the merpeople all day,” he said. “Don’t tell me to get a towel. Now, what’s this about a council?”
Lucy explained as Peter took a seat on the floor by the fire and made Edmund help pull his boots off (mud splattered all over the carpet and Edmund’s tunic). “See,” she finished, “I think it’s a good idea. It’ll be like Arthur, you know, he had the Round Table.”
“All right,” Peter said. “That sounds like a plan. Should we all talk to them? How do you want to do this?”
“I think Lucy should talk to Drynelf and Darrel,” Edmund said. “You had that long talk about sailing with them, Lu, didn’t you? And Susan, you’re the most polite”—Susan snorted in a very impolite fashion at this—“so you should talk to Hazan. And then maybe Peter could talk to Bumblethorn and Rahat, and I could talk to Peridan.”
“That sounds good to me,” Peter said, “if someone will explain who Rahat is.”
“Oh, Su’s got all the notes,” Lucy said. “There was a whole troop of Calormenes, Peter, they’re wonderful. Rahat’s their leader, she’s got a sword and she rides without using the reins at all.”
“Sounds just like someone we could use,” Peter agreed gravely. “Very well, I’ll talk to her in the morning. Better let me see the maps and things tonight, though, Su. I’ll want to sound like I know what I’m talking about.”
Susan handed over a thick folder without comment, and Peter leaned against the legs of Lucy’s armchair and flipped through them. When he was done, Edmund said, “What did the merpeople say?”
Peter stretched and said, “Oh, it was a very wet nightmare, let me tell you.”
+
Edmund spent most of the night wondering how he was going to find Peridan in the morning, and what he was going to say. “Would you like to be part of a council?” did not seem like a very useful question. Edmund was quite sure that if someone were to ask it of him, he would say no.
But as it happened, he did not need to worry so much. He was nearly at the doors to the Great Hall for breakfast (unlike dinner, which was rather formal, breakfast was served as people trickled down. The girls were morning people, but Edmund and Peter were always late) when Peridan crashed into him on the stairs. Edmund went sprawling. “Ow!” he said.
“My wrist!” said Peridan, and then, after a moment, “You aren’t King Edmund, are you?”
“Yes,” Edmund ground out as he stood up and dusted himself off.
“I’m sorry!” Peridan said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Rahat says I might as well have been born without eyes because I never use them. Sire. You aren’t hurt, are you? Rahat will never forgive me if I commit regicide on the way to breakfast, she’ll have me sent home and Father will yell.”
It took Edmund a few moments to digest his words. “I’m all right,” he said finally. “Did you hurt your wrist?”
“It’s just bruised,” Peridan said. “You don’t think I’m a Calormene assassin then?”
“I think you would be a terrible assassin,” Edmund said frankly. “But would you like to join my council?” It was not at all how he had planned on saying it. He had wanted to sound very mature and kingly, like someone whose council Peridan would want to join. But Peridan only grinned.
“Would I! Can we wear matching scabbards? Or have matching horses?”
“I guess,” said Edmund, who hadn’t thought that far.
“Then I accept,” Peridan said, with an elaborate bow. You might think—and in other circumstances I might agree—that this was not a very good way of choosing a council. But I think that in this case, Aslan was watching over Cair Paravel and breathing on the people he thought would be best. And indeed Peridan would grow up to be the famous Lord Peridan who was so important to Narnia’s Golden Age. But that is another story.
A fic for snacky
ave formosissima
for snacky
i. the queen
Gone was the time when the young prince would simply stare at his father with wide eyes, listening and taking everything in obediently. Rillian is all of 12 and he is sure that his good father – the king, the seafarer, the star's husband, the one blessed by the ancients – is the most tiresome of all his tutors. Droning on and on about the High King Peter and his expert kingship, his father looks almost touched with enchantment or something equally silly. It grows harder and harder for Rillian not to say something out loud until, finally, he loses it:
"Father, please. Peter spent all his time fighting giants and being absent while Susan ruled at home, I don't understand why you think he's such a great king and all."
Rillian is intensely satisfied as he watches the most incredible horrified expression blossom on his father's face.
"And Edmund was always busy with his network of spies – what good it did him, not realizing he'd get gobbled back up by his own country one day, and that Telmar was on the verge of conquest. And Lucy was sailing the high seas and having adventures with Tumnus and her other knights. All of this while Susan stayed at home ruling Narnia. Why don't you ever tell me stories about Susan?"
His father opens his mouth before closing it.
The floodgates are open and Rillian is nowhere near finishing. "She was the best of them, the best queen and the best lady. And she was so beautiful," and Rillian points to the ornate painting of her to the king's right. Beauty, he thought with all the wisdom of a child, was an incredibly important part of Susan's superiority. "And she was so good. She never married and never left Narnia, keeping her roots deep within the land which was hers."
"Hers to share—" his father blurts out.
"Hers to share, yes, and hers to keep whole and at peace while the others flitted back and forth. If I am going to learn how to be a good king, I want to learn from her." Rillian looks defiantly at his father who surprises him with a very amused laugh.
"Very well, little princeling, very well," his father says, looking up at the painting of Susan with the strangest look on his face. "Let us talk about the gentle queen."
ii. the star
The star-filled sky glows above him as he sits in wait on the highest tower. He is 18 now, and far more patient. She had asked him to come in the hour after midnight and he is early, just to stare out at the twinkling darkness. The bluest of all the stars sparkles before shooting down towards him, a speed he hasn't seen in a while. But it doesn't alarm him; his mother must be merry.
The queen, his mother, materializes as she lands, her white dress and nearly translucent face shimmering in the dark. He laughs and stretches out his arms to her, but she does not move.
She is a very tall woman, very imposing to those who do not know her well. The people love her for she is strong as she is kind, and her will is always for peace. But she looks fragile now, a puff of wind could whisk her away.
"Mother," he says, and she holds up her hand to silence him.
"Sit with me," she asks.
His father had many benches placed here as the king was always fond of star gazing, even before he married a star. Mother and son find their favorite one and sit together, the queen's hand cradled in his.
Finally, she speaks. "Caspian always asks me if I regret coming with him, if I regret leaving my father's island to come here."
Rillian feels suddenly very cold, she is especially strange tonight.
"It's funny how he always asks that, because I never do, never have. I've missed the loneliness of the island, of Aslan's table. I miss the constancy of orbit in the sky, and always knowing the future we stars foretell." She shivers now and he puts his arm around her.
"But I love Narnia. And I love your father, and I love you." Her voice is horribly, horribly sad and Rillian is afraid. She is silent for some time.
"I need to tell you a story," she says at last. "It's a story King Cor told me last summer." Despite his unease, Rillian smiles at that. King Cor the Ninth of Archenland is more scholar than king, and one can spend hours learning old tales at his table.
"Tell me."
"In the Golden Age, Peter the High King wished it that his eldest sister would marry—" (Rillian is already sure at this point that the story is wrong, but, again, he is far more patient than he was years past.) "—And so she was courted by many suitors from far and wide. Princes and dukes and brave knights all vied for her hand. She would have none of them, for you know that her heart was fierce and free like yours. But one day, she spied a very handsome prince. He was tall and dark, and his eyes flashed like flame, and he was more beautiful in her eyes than any man she had ever met. He was a prince of Calormen, and he was the most wicked man to ever set foot in Narnia. But she did not know that then.
"He reached out his hand to her, and intrigued, she took it. Before she knew what had happened, she was a prisoner of this wicked prince in his home city of Tashbaan. He was intent on making her his bride, and thereby having claim to Narnia. For not only was it his wish to claim her most intimately and forever, but he wished that Narnia would be his forever as well. She was trapped, you see, for days on end, and at the mercy of this wicked prince. But her will never broke, her spirit never left her. She knew she would, one day, be rescued by Aslan's will."
Rillian, shaken, interrupts, and his words are mostly gibberish. "And of course she was rescued, and she was unharmed by all of this. She was whole, she was herself." His heart beats fast as a drum.
"Of course, you are right. A brave group of knights banded together to rescue her – her brother, Edmund, and the King of Archenland and his two noble sons. They took her home, but not before destroying the wicked prince."
His mother breathes in and it's an oddly ragged sound. He holds her tighter to him.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"You like the Queen Susan," she replies. "You've always liked her."
He blushes, looks away. "Well, yes."
"Then I want you to remember that she never broke. She was strong to the last."
His mother is mysterious, he knows this implicitly, and he knows not to ask too many questions. "I will remember."
She leans in to kiss his cheek and gives him a small smile. "I am in need of merriment. Take me maying tomorrow. I wish to see the northern forests again."
He feels a surge of affection for her and he kisses her white hand.
iii. the enchantress
In sharp and sudden bursts, he is coming hard into her, crying out sharply and keeping his eyes locked shut. She is laughing and gasping and clawing at his back, goading him on to utter completion until he is half sobbing, the pain mixed evenly with pleasure.
"I love you," he breathes out, and she kisses his mouth.
"Say it again," the witch commands.
"I love you, and I will love you and follow you forever," Rilian says instantly, believing it with all his heart.
*
He knows this is madness, but it is the only thing he can do: he screams, and screams, the deafening sound ringing in his chamber, rattling the very silver he sits on. Tonight, he screams for Queen Susan to save him, for King Peter and Edmund, for the valiant Queen Lucy, to leave their mysterious other world, pick up their swords, and save him. He knows her plan, and it makes him sick. But the kings and queens of old will save him; his screams will do better than Susan's horn, his cries will wrench them out.
The witch stares at him, amused. "Even if they do come, my love, even we see your pretty Susan, the magnificent Peter, little Lucy, or my dearest Edmund—" and she laughs, "I know precisely what to do with them."
He takes a deep breath, trembling as she rises to her full height to watch him in his brief silence, and he screams again.
iv. the knight
Rillian sits at the entrance of the cave, shivering as the fire is much deeper within. But he refuses to lay down and only see earth above him. He must see the stars. And either way, there is no sleep for him now that he is free. His mind is chaos and he must meet his father in the morning.
A blanket settles around his shoulders and he looks up to see the young maiden, the brave girlchild who has delivered him. She is such a mystery to him. She's only a girl; not a star, not a queen, not a witch. It's just human blood that flows in her veins (like Susan and Lucy, like Helen). After all he's lived through, he feels honored to be in such company.
Jill sits shoulder to shoulder to him and wraps her arms around her knees. They sit there, staring at the sky for a while before he speaks.
"You're from Susan's world, aren't you?"
"Pardon?"
He looks at her face. "The world of the High King, of Peter and Susan, Edmund and Lucy."
"Oh, Scrubb's cousins? Oh yes. Quite." She looks slightly deflated.
"Do you know Susan?" he asks her and regrets it the moment he asks.
"I've only seen her picture. She's very beautiful." Rillian wonders now how much time he spent as a boy thinking on Susan's beauty. The witch was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
"I've only met Edmund and Lucy, and they were very strange. That's all I remember." Jill looks back up at the sky. "But, I suppose, I will be very strange when I return."
He doesn't understand this, but then again, he feels strange himself.
She bumps his shoulder with hers. "You're going to be alright, aren't you?"
"I hope so." He's uncertain (and will be for years; like another king of Narnia, he will never be free completely).
Jill nods firmly. "You will be, I'm sure of it."
Rillian looks at her and sees the confidence in her eyes, he sees her fealty to him and he wonders.
v. the old woman
He sits, as he is wont to do, under the shade of an apple tree, enjoying the quiet loneliness of Aslan's country and the deep expanse of sky.
Rillian starts when he feels a presence next to him and hears the ragged breathing of someone who is very old.
"I must have dozed off," the voice is a woman's. "How silly of me."
He looks over to see an old woman, beautifully dressed, with short white curls and a translucently white face. She looks at him, curious, and he sees that she has a queenly look about her (it's all in the eyes).
She raises her chin to appraise him and Aslan's country works its magic. The years reverse like they never were spent, and she's young again, a head full of the deepest black hair, and her lips pink, and her complexion smooth and unblemished. She stares at her hands, at her silken dress, and then back at him.
"I'm home, aren't I?" Susan asks.
"At last," he says.
She reaches for him and gives him the strong kisses of a queen and his joy is great.
"Take me to those I love," she asks and he laughs, jumping to his feet and offering his hand. She takes it, and they run further up and further in.
A fic for cap_red
“It’s strange, how in some countries we’re greeted as nobles and royals,” the faun said to his friend, somewhat bitterly, “And in others we could be anyone. And this country owes us tribute!”
“Yes, Nonnus, but have you noticed even when we’re greeted well ‘barbarian’ is often tacked on?” Edmund said, smirking. “I suppose being overly polite is a terrifying prospect for some. Or perhaps they want to make sure we stay humble. And if that’s the case, I thank them.”
“Anyway, Nonnus,” he continued, looking down at the youth who looked embarrassed at being overheard, “Shouldn’t you be used to more serious discomforts? Going weeks without seeing anyone but your fellows? Being relentlessly pursued?”
“Well, there should be rewards for those types of things, correct?” The faun quipped, and Edmund smiled to himself. There were reasons he’d chosen his knights.
Still, the welcome was quite cold- only one grim-faced man had greeted them on the dock and acted like escorting them across the city was a task that could’ve been thought up only in the deepest pits of the world. It was a sharp contrast to the few times he’d visited before, when the governor him or herself would greet them and walk along with them, freely sharing the state of the nation.
The city itself had changed also; from small, squat buildings encrusted with shells and bits of abalone opening up into large, bright squares, to a mixture of old and new, abalone and oil paints, yet paint in thick strokes and gaudy colors that did nothing for the taller, more tower-like buildings they were painted on and everything to detract from the small bits of glimmering shell. Here and there were small scenes more skillfully painted- a proud ship crashing through waves, a delicate crab scuttling across sand- but for the most part the paint was loud and ugly. In his opinion, at least.
They were led through streets that would’ve been unremarkable, except in their differences from each other. Some were the nests and caves of beasts, some flat, wide huts, while others were designed in Archenlandish or Calormene styles. It was a patchwork quilt of a city.
“Edmund,” Susan said, coming next to Edmund in the front of the group. “Do you see that? On that house over there?”
“Hmmm?” He squinted up to where she was pointing. “You mean the flag? It’s just, oh,” For the golden lion charging across scarlet was flying, but the lion, instead of charging out into the world and to battle, had turned tail and was running back towards the flag pole.
“Well, that’s interesting. Do you think it’s supposed to be some kind of slap?
“We could deal with that. That doesn’t matter. I’m more worried about it being a signal. Like…”
“Farna in The Woods, yes,” He interrupted, referring to the poem in which the character uses small changes in the placement of stones and branches to send messages. “I thought about that too. We’re going to need to work on this. Hopefully we’ll have some useful information brought in tonight.”
“Yes, of course. You know, that could be a useful code. Different book references, thrown into conversation and each equaling a certain message. We could work on that, Edmund.” And the prospect of a new code to develop carried them across the city to a large villa (of Archenlandish design), which sat next to a candle shop and a small pub. They were right across the street from the house with the backwards flag.
“Here is where you’ll be staying. There are people inside that will assist you. Governor Hart would like to meet with you in five hours, after you’ve settled in. She sends her greetings and says she hopes everything is satisfactory. I must leave, now.” The escort said, bowing, and left, taking his monotonous voice with him.
“Did you notice he didn’t say we couldn’t leave?” Edmund asked after they made sure all the trunks were moved inside and the crew and band of knights they had brought were all assigned rooms. “Yes, I did. Let’s go buy a candle for Alice, and then we can go get a drink. There must be so many interesting things we can find out about the people in the pub.” Susan said, raising her eyebrows.
“I agree! I think we have a friend around there, too,” He said, then laughed. “We’re alone. We don’t need to keep talking like someone is standing over us.”
“You mean you don’t want to use B-Code? I’m surprised, Edmund!” She took his hand and pulled him to the door. “Let’s go. We don’t have long, really, and I think there’s more to find out.
Oo
Edmund and Susan sat in the pub, alone at a table with only two guards, one Galmanian and one Narnian, at the next table over. “So how is your drink, Edmund?” Susan asked, in the light, breezy tone that instantly told Edmund something was off. She caught his eye as he turned to say “Very good, thank you,” and blink blink blink blink, blink, blink blink blink blink-ed, and went on, alternating between blinking lightly and heavily- almost scrunching her eyes shut, really. It was a type of code they had developed together for their intelligence agents, especially Animals, which allowed them to appear Dumb and still transmit information. There were still issues to be worked out, though. She had underestimated the difficulty of working out the correct codes and trying to act normally- which was essential; you couldn’t have people standing around staring intently at each other and blinking. The two of them were probably the best, though his more outspoken knights maintained that if you had made the rules you had a much easier time following them.
“Yes, mine is very good too,” She said in a slightly strained voice, raising her eyebrows, which he took to mean, “Did you get that?” He shook his head just slightly side to side; when he’d realized what she was getting at the message was already half way over.
He could see a sigh and perhaps an eye roll was threatening to escape from her, but to her credit she held it in and started her message again, this time a bit slower, as she gazed forward and took small sips from her glass. This time he caught the message, Left window.
He twisted his goblet to face the window, and caught sight of the house with the backwards flag. As he watched, a man walked inside. He didn’t peek around or act suspicious, but his walk was tall and stiff, with chest pushed out. It was a bit too tall, too stiff, to confident; it could be the walk of someone trying to pretend confidence. Still, he was only one man…
“Edmund, have you been drinking that same thing the entire time we’ve been here?” Ah, that was why it was important. “Dear me. I suppose it’s good, and you just want to savor it. I wonder if our escort would like some. He was ever so polite.” She grimaced at that last sentence, but he understood what she meant; ‘our escort went in.’
His first thought was that it didn’t really matter; the government as a whole was being quite anti- Narnian, and this was nothing they hadn’t already known about. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like this was different, that it was another group working separately. The government doesn’t have to sneak around in little houses in its own country. He knew his mind was quick to form hypothesis, that this might be absolutely nothing. But it all just seemed strange…
“Susan, I’m done, are you? I was thinking we should get a candle for Lucy, to save until her anniversary. I think she’d like that.”
“Good idea, and yes, I’m done,” She said, walking out with him and the guards. At the shop Susan bought a candle that smelled like rain and Edmund sent the Rat that had been stationed there after their arrival to go across and try and get into the house. That night he would send across a Hamster, he decided. If he could find one of the little buggers.
The time passed quickly for Edmund and Susan, as they sat on her bed and talked rapidly about what they knew about Galma and what all they’d found out and how the meeting was going to go about. They received reports from a fox about how the last few months had gone.
“Many Narnians are looked down upon. So many people want to advance, and most Narnians are seen as hindering that advancement. Nothing is said regarding us legally, but most of the time we’re not listened to or are pushed out of certain places. Of course, we’re Narnians, Majesties,” the fox said, looking them in the eyes. “We will survive. But it seems Galma is more supportive of humans. And some of us animals do like to travel and would like larger ships or better weapons so we can be defended against pirates or monsters. But it seems we’re all put in one category.”
“And is there anything Narnians have done that might be deserving of this treatment?” Susan asked.
“Just a few maybe things. Sometimes people go in and steal humans’ sharp things, because they don’t want to see the forests be cut down. But they need the forest to survive!” The fox cried, his voice getting higher and higher. “Humans just want nicer houses.”
“Yes, you’re right, Fox Harper. We’ll try and do what we can,” Susan said soothingly. “Thank you for everything you’re doing here. We truly appreciate it,” She said firmly, in the tone that meant what she said was true and indisputable. “Can we get you anything to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you, Your Majesties. I must be off.” He leaped up onto the bed and out the open window, running off into the square.
“What do you think?” Susan asked.
“They’ve had a hard few months, with the storms and attacks. We’ve been spending more money than usual, on the trip to Tashbann and then the battle after, and while it doesn’t seem to us that we’ve cut the protection we’ve been giving, it must seem like it to them, after it’s all gone through and has been spread out.”
“So they’re just taking it out on our people,” Susan said, a rare fierceness in her eyes.
“Yes, exactly. As much as I hate to admit it, I think we’ve made some mistakes with Galma, Susan. And I think in trying to get the Galmanians to be friendly with the Narnians, we’ve just made more rifts. But it all seemed right at the time.” He took a deep breath. “But whatever should’ve happened, we need to fix it now, without hurting people.”
“People will always get hurt, Edmund.” Susan said quietly. “We just need to make sure it’s not too many, and not the wrong people.”
In the silence that always follows that kind of announcement, they heard the front door being opened, and then a knock at their door.
“Excuse me, your majesties?” This was not their old friend, but a young, shy, blond boy that seemed scared to poke his head through the door. “Ms. Governor, Governor Hart that is, is ready to see you. Or they told me that she was ready to see you, that is.”
“Oh yes, let’s go. Thank you,” Susan said, smiling at the boy.
“Umm, well, your majesties,” He looked extremely uncomfortable. “Only one of you is allowed to come, that is, either one or the other. That’s the rule, I don’t know why. Um, sorry.”
Susan and Edmund eyed each other nervously; almost all of the plans had been made with the assumption that both of them would be diplomats. They both had basic understandings of most every part of Galmanian culture or government, but where they went far in-depth their knowledge hadn’t overlapped much; Susan studied the basic person’s relation to the government, common custom, and how the general population was moving while Edmund had studied how the government was run. And because of this study, they both were sure this was a new rule, probably designed just for them. They could insist, but that would create too many problems too early on.
Susan smiled at Edmund and said softly, “Well, I’ve studied the people and you’ve studied the government. You take the government, I’ll continue with the people. Best of luck.”
Edmund walked out the door with the young man as Susan slipped on her boots.
Oo
Independence. Of course. How many times throughout history have colonies wanted to rule alone? Now he was dealing with this issue, knowing he was treading a fine line.
Galma was rich and productive, and to lose it would take away much of Narnia’s income. It gave them a port for trade and a base for the navy. And he firmly believed what he had told the governor, I have seen nations advanced beyond all your imagining. And I know once you are there, you will not find it so sweet. Galma was in the protection of Narnia. Was this not just protecting it from itself?
And it was home to Narnians.
But to keep it might mean war. Narnia could not afford it, the last battle had depleted much of Narnia’s treasury, and it had pulled many people away during harvest, leaving too many crop fields to rot. There was little doubt Narnia would win, but without bankrupting the country? And how many people would support a war with a colony? It’s not the kind of noble cause Narnians thrive on. It’s not the kind of cause that would call a peaceful Beast or a distracted satyr to war.
And it was home to Narnians.
When he got back from the governor’s place it was dusk, and it even later before Susan came back. After dispatching the Hamster and receiving the Rat, they sat on the floor, tea at their sides and papers in hand, sharing all they’d learned, hearing from the spies, and formulating a plan. They both knew no plan was foolproof, but the one they came up with seemed right. As Edmund went to sleep, he could even feel that it was the right thing to do. There was no twinge of guilt that this was plan was just wrong. He fell to sleep quickly, anticipating putting the plan into action. Tomorrow.
Someone in the room next door lit a candle, sending the light spilling out the window.
Somewhere, there was a small squeak.
And Edmund fell asleep.
Oo
The next morning, he would be woken up by yelling and hollering. He’d jump out of bed and hear the news, that as he slept there had been a betrayal, and all the Narnian spies in the Governor’s house and in the main circle of the city had been rounded up and killed. The hamster he sent would be one of them, caught as she listened at the door as the plans were being made. Another would be his brother-in-law, Marled. He and Susan would spend a year in Galma, kept both by the need to solve this problem and the fact that Narnia was having its coldest Winter Year in the entire Golden Age and it was causing huge storms to spin across the Strait of Narnia. It was a hot summer in Galma.
They would come home in triumph, which was smashed once again by having to comfort the families of those killed. Queen Lucy would spend a week in the forest, running barefoot over rocks and through streams, scratching words into the ground or screaming them at the sky. She was, most assuredly, not ‘always merry.’
Galma would stay a colony of Narnia through the Golden Age, though there was a rift put in and the two countries would never truly love each other again. Every now and then there would be small skirmishes, or people with eloquent voices calling for independence.
When the Golden Age ended Narnia would have years of struggle, when either too many people wanting the crown or not enough. During this time, Galma would be let go quite cheerfully, and establish itself as a true power in the world, developing fast ships and even faster weapons.
For nearly two hundred years they were nearly as rich and powerful as Calormen, but through a period of bad storms and even worse kings and queens the money would be all but spent, and Galma would become poor once again, and to their disgust, once again become a duchy of Narnia.
They would spend a time trying to gain more power in Narnia, which it would be reluctant to grant. Once of the most famous of these attempts to gain power would be the extravagant feast and tournament the Duke Genif would host for King Caspian IX. It came out that the Duke wanted to marry his daughter, Duchess Arini, to the King, who refused and left on his famous venture. He would have a son, who would become King Rilian the Disenchanted. Arini would grow into a good and intelligent Duchess of Galma, and the reputation of her wisdom would extend through much of the mainland. She would have a daughter, Heria, either as good a ruler as her mother or better, who would end up marrying Rilian and becoming Queen of Narnia.
The rule of King Rilian and Queen Heria would later be compared to the Golden Age or Narnia, and certainly became a Golden Age for Galma.
As Edmund did nothing but not wake up, he could not possibly know what he was putting into motion. There are some things not even the best laid plans can prevent or the wisest rulers predict.
Someone lit the candle that had been bought for the Queen, casting light on the figure creeping out of the house across the street.
Somewhere in the night, a little animal squeaked.
A fic for TimeMage0955
On the Formation of a Narnian Council
The White Witch had not been dead for more than a week when the first expatriates began to make their way back into Narnia. At first they came from Archenland, trickling over the mountain pass in twos and threes, a badger here, a group of hedgehogs there. In the month following they started arriving in larger and larger groups: a hastily-commandeered merchant ship from Galma, a parade of rough men and women on rougher Talking Horses from the mostly uncivilized western borders, some of the nicer sort of Giants from Ettinsmoor. But it was the caravan of young men and women from Calormen that made the biggest stir. They arrived at the gates of Cair Paravel in the middle of the morning on a Tuesday, when Edmund was instructing the gardeners about the new hedges and Lucy was practicing her archery with Cloudbreak.
"We're here to speak with the kings and queens," said the first rider, dismounting very gracefully from a bay mare and shaking her hair away from her face. "We've ridden straight from Calavar. Our great- grandparents fled Narnia during the reign of the Witch, but we want to come back."
"I'll be right back," Edmund said to the head gardener. "Would you send someone to tell Susan and Peter, please?"
"Hello!" he heard Lucy say as he approached. "I'm Lucy, we're so glad to meet you."
"Your Majesty," said the woman, dropping into a curtsey. "I am Rahat. We are a hundred strong and all prepared to do whatever you ask of us." Behind her, the rest of the riders were dismounting and dropping to their knees, and others were stepping out of wagons and pulling off hats.
"Lady Rahat," Edmund said, feeling terribly silly, "please do rise. Er, perhaps we could escort you to the stables? I'm Edmund," he added, as an afterthought, and was horribly embarrassed when they all went into bows and curtseys again; none of them had got used to that yet.
"That would be splendid, Your Majesties, but please, it's just Rahat," she said. In a few moments, she had explained the plan to two or three other Calormenes, and each horse was being led across the lawn toward the stable. Rahat did not say anything as they walked, until finally Edmund realized that perhaps she was waiting for them to speak. It was the worst part of court protocol, Edmund thought, kicking a little at the dirt. Just when a person wanted to have a regular conversation with another person, court protocol happened and no one could sit down until he did, or eat until he lifted his fork, or any number of other highly silly things.
"You said you were from Calavar?" Edmund asked. "How long a journey was it?"
"Oh, about a week, sire," Rahat said, "but we rode hard most of the way. We were most anxious to get here and would have been here much sooner, but of course it took some time to prepare."
"Of course," Lucy said, shooting Edmund a look that said quite plainly, How long do you think it takes to prepare a caravan of a hundred people?
"Brin!" Edmund called when they reached the stable doors.
"Your Majesties," Brin whinnied. "And I see you've brought me some cousins." After that everything grew a bit confused, with a hundred Calormenes pressing to see a real Talking Horse and another hundred dumb horses pressing to be near the hay. In the end it turned out to be simplest to leave the horses with fifteen or twenty of the Calormenes, to be brushed and stabled, and to send another ten or fifteen to supervise the wagons, and to send the rest with Mrs. Beaver to see about rooms.
At first Edmund had been worried there wouldn't be enough rooms made up, but Rahat had said, "Oh, we've been sleeping on the ground, it's no bother," and a girl had made her way to the front and said, "We'll certainly help you in any way we can, Mrs. Beaver," and Mrs. Beaver had finally smiled and said, "Well, we'll work something out, and you'll all have somewhere to sleep tonight at least."
That left Rahat standing with Lucy and Edmund and four other Calormenes, who went round and introduced themselves. The woman standing on Rahat's right was Elif, from Tashbaan proper; next to her was Hazan Tarkheena, who admitted with a slight flush that she was not Narnian at all ("Descended in a direct line from Tash on both sides, Your Majesties"), but a good friend of Elif's and a cousin of Rahat’s; next there was Mazhar, and between him and Rahat was Peridan. Mazhar made a very formal bow when he said his name, but Peridan only bowed awkwardly and smiled. "I suppose we should go into the library," said Edmund. They had cleaned up the Throne Room first, but frankly he did not like it much; it was large and airy and tended to echo, and Edmund and Lucy both rather felt like someone was going to come shoo them out. So in general they discussed matters in the library, which was smaller and cozier.
Peter was nowhere to be found ("Off discussing plans for the harbor with the merpeople, Your Majesty," said Mr. Beaver), but Susan was pulled away from the crop accounts to come meet the new arrivals. Edmund made the introductions and there was another round of curtseys and bows before Susan said, "Let's get to numbers. You said you're a hundred strong, with a hundred horses? We certainly have room for you." She was spreading out a map as she spoke. The four of them had gotten into something of a system with the new Narnians: they tried to put people as close to their ancestral homes (if such things could be determined), making sure that none of the new settlements hit too close to any existing settlements. In general species seemed to want to stay segregated, although Susan thought it was
particularly important to mix them. "I wonder if that was part of the problem before the Witch," she said. "Divide and conquer, you know."
“Not everyone remembers where their families came from, Your Majesties,” Rahat said. “But I have a map for those who do.” She pulled a folded sheet of parchment from inside her shirt and spread it on the library table in front of Susan. Peridan, Elif, and Mazhar spread out so they could see it, and Edmund and Lucy leaned over the table. “Sixty have ties to specific areas, mostly in the southeast. The rest of us have no connections here. Of course we are all at your disposal, and will go where you wish.”
“We will do our best to see that you are all located as close to your homes as possible,” Susan said with a smile. “Now, why don’t you tell us more about your group? What are your ages? What are your skills?”
+
The eight of them talked for several hours, and then Mrs. Beaver appeared to take the five Calormenes to their rooms (Rahat and Peridan insisted on sleeping in the stables). At last Susan drew up an armchair, Lucy uncorked a bottle of wine, and Edmund added a log to the fire. “Let’s talk about them,” Lucy said. “I do like them, don’t you?”
“I thought they all seemed very interesting,” Susan agreed. “We’ll want to interview the rest , of course.” They had developed a system—it wasn’t a very thorough system, Edmund thought, but it was the only thing they could pull together at such short notice—for placing immigrants. The idea was that they could put together villages of people who knew and loved each other already, but also be sure to mix the populations.
“Do you think Beavers’ Dam and Beruna?” Edmund asked. “Or Glasswater Creek?”
“All three,” Susan said. “Glasswater Creek needs carpenters badly, and I thought the blacksmiths to Beaver’s Dam and Beruna.”
“I think we should ask some of them to stay here,” Lucy said suddenly.
“Why’s that, Lu?”
“Well, we’re kings and queens now,” she said slowly. “So we’re going to need ambassadors and spies and generals and advisors and—oh, all sorts of things. I think we should ask some of people to stay with us instead of going off to start villages. I think we should ask Drynelf and Darrel from the ship that came in, and Bumblethorn the giant, and I think we should ask Rahat.”
“And Peridan,” Edmund said slowly. “He’s descended from Narnian nobility, isn’t he? And I liked him.”
Susan nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. I wanted to ask Rahat to stay for a while and tell us about Calormen anyway, and if Hazan is really an important tarkheena there then we should keep her on as an ambassador, shouldn’t we?”
“Yes,” Lucy said. “We’ll need someone they can take seriously. And someone to tell us all the—you know, tell us how not to embarrass ourselves.”
“I’m sure we won’t embarrass ourselves,” Edmund said with more confidence than he felt. “But I think that’s a good idea. We should get Peter’s input, though.”
“I say, I’d nearly forgotten,” Susan said.
“Forgotten what?” came Peter’s voice as the door swung open. Peter looked like he had been swimming; his clothes were wet and his boots squelched on the floor. Susan made a face.
“Forgotten that we ought to get your thoughts before we appointed a council,” she said. “But now I think perhaps we oughtn’t to listen to you at all. Is it too much to find a towel, Peter?”
Peter grimaced. “I’ve been arguing with the matriarch of the merpeople all day,” he said. “Don’t tell me to get a towel. Now, what’s this about a council?”
Lucy explained as Peter took a seat on the floor by the fire and made Edmund help pull his boots off (mud splattered all over the carpet and Edmund’s tunic). “See,” she finished, “I think it’s a good idea. It’ll be like Arthur, you know, he had the Round Table.”
“All right,” Peter said. “That sounds like a plan. Should we all talk to them? How do you want to do this?”
“I think Lucy should talk to Drynelf and Darrel,” Edmund said. “You had that long talk about sailing with them, Lu, didn’t you? And Susan, you’re the most polite”—Susan snorted in a very impolite fashion at this—“so you should talk to Hazan. And then maybe Peter could talk to Bumblethorn and Rahat, and I could talk to Peridan.”
“That sounds good to me,” Peter said, “if someone will explain who Rahat is.”
“Oh, Su’s got all the notes,” Lucy said. “There was a whole troop of Calormenes, Peter, they’re wonderful. Rahat’s their leader, she’s got a sword and she rides without using the reins at all.”
“Sounds just like someone we could use,” Peter agreed gravely. “Very well, I’ll talk to her in the morning. Better let me see the maps and things tonight, though, Su. I’ll want to sound like I know what I’m talking about.”
Susan handed over a thick folder without comment, and Peter leaned against the legs of Lucy’s armchair and flipped through them. When he was done, Edmund said, “What did the merpeople say?”
Peter stretched and said, “Oh, it was a very wet nightmare, let me tell you.”
+
Edmund spent most of the night wondering how he was going to find Peridan in the morning, and what he was going to say. “Would you like to be part of a council?” did not seem like a very useful question. Edmund was quite sure that if someone were to ask it of him, he would say no.
But as it happened, he did not need to worry so much. He was nearly at the doors to the Great Hall for breakfast (unlike dinner, which was rather formal, breakfast was served as people trickled down. The girls were morning people, but Edmund and Peter were always late) when Peridan crashed into him on the stairs. Edmund went sprawling. “Ow!” he said.
“My wrist!” said Peridan, and then, after a moment, “You aren’t King Edmund, are you?”
“Yes,” Edmund ground out as he stood up and dusted himself off.
“I’m sorry!” Peridan said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Rahat says I might as well have been born without eyes because I never use them. Sire. You aren’t hurt, are you? Rahat will never forgive me if I commit regicide on the way to breakfast, she’ll have me sent home and Father will yell.”
It took Edmund a few moments to digest his words. “I’m all right,” he said finally. “Did you hurt your wrist?”
“It’s just bruised,” Peridan said. “You don’t think I’m a Calormene assassin then?”
“I think you would be a terrible assassin,” Edmund said frankly. “But would you like to join my council?” It was not at all how he had planned on saying it. He had wanted to sound very mature and kingly, like someone whose council Peridan would want to join. But Peridan only grinned.
“Would I! Can we wear matching scabbards? Or have matching horses?”
“I guess,” said Edmund, who hadn’t thought that far.
“Then I accept,” Peridan said, with an elaborate bow. You might think—and in other circumstances I might agree—that this was not a very good way of choosing a council. But I think that in this case, Aslan was watching over Cair Paravel and breathing on the people he thought would be best. And indeed Peridan would grow up to be the famous Lord Peridan who was so important to Narnia’s Golden Age. But that is another story.
A fic for snacky
ave formosissima
for snacky
i. the queen
Gone was the time when the young prince would simply stare at his father with wide eyes, listening and taking everything in obediently. Rillian is all of 12 and he is sure that his good father – the king, the seafarer, the star's husband, the one blessed by the ancients – is the most tiresome of all his tutors. Droning on and on about the High King Peter and his expert kingship, his father looks almost touched with enchantment or something equally silly. It grows harder and harder for Rillian not to say something out loud until, finally, he loses it:
"Father, please. Peter spent all his time fighting giants and being absent while Susan ruled at home, I don't understand why you think he's such a great king and all."
Rillian is intensely satisfied as he watches the most incredible horrified expression blossom on his father's face.
"And Edmund was always busy with his network of spies – what good it did him, not realizing he'd get gobbled back up by his own country one day, and that Telmar was on the verge of conquest. And Lucy was sailing the high seas and having adventures with Tumnus and her other knights. All of this while Susan stayed at home ruling Narnia. Why don't you ever tell me stories about Susan?"
His father opens his mouth before closing it.
The floodgates are open and Rillian is nowhere near finishing. "She was the best of them, the best queen and the best lady. And she was so beautiful," and Rillian points to the ornate painting of her to the king's right. Beauty, he thought with all the wisdom of a child, was an incredibly important part of Susan's superiority. "And she was so good. She never married and never left Narnia, keeping her roots deep within the land which was hers."
"Hers to share—" his father blurts out.
"Hers to share, yes, and hers to keep whole and at peace while the others flitted back and forth. If I am going to learn how to be a good king, I want to learn from her." Rillian looks defiantly at his father who surprises him with a very amused laugh.
"Very well, little princeling, very well," his father says, looking up at the painting of Susan with the strangest look on his face. "Let us talk about the gentle queen."
ii. the star
The star-filled sky glows above him as he sits in wait on the highest tower. He is 18 now, and far more patient. She had asked him to come in the hour after midnight and he is early, just to stare out at the twinkling darkness. The bluest of all the stars sparkles before shooting down towards him, a speed he hasn't seen in a while. But it doesn't alarm him; his mother must be merry.
The queen, his mother, materializes as she lands, her white dress and nearly translucent face shimmering in the dark. He laughs and stretches out his arms to her, but she does not move.
She is a very tall woman, very imposing to those who do not know her well. The people love her for she is strong as she is kind, and her will is always for peace. But she looks fragile now, a puff of wind could whisk her away.
"Mother," he says, and she holds up her hand to silence him.
"Sit with me," she asks.
His father had many benches placed here as the king was always fond of star gazing, even before he married a star. Mother and son find their favorite one and sit together, the queen's hand cradled in his.
Finally, she speaks. "Caspian always asks me if I regret coming with him, if I regret leaving my father's island to come here."
Rillian feels suddenly very cold, she is especially strange tonight.
"It's funny how he always asks that, because I never do, never have. I've missed the loneliness of the island, of Aslan's table. I miss the constancy of orbit in the sky, and always knowing the future we stars foretell." She shivers now and he puts his arm around her.
"But I love Narnia. And I love your father, and I love you." Her voice is horribly, horribly sad and Rillian is afraid. She is silent for some time.
"I need to tell you a story," she says at last. "It's a story King Cor told me last summer." Despite his unease, Rillian smiles at that. King Cor the Ninth of Archenland is more scholar than king, and one can spend hours learning old tales at his table.
"Tell me."
"In the Golden Age, Peter the High King wished it that his eldest sister would marry—" (Rillian is already sure at this point that the story is wrong, but, again, he is far more patient than he was years past.) "—And so she was courted by many suitors from far and wide. Princes and dukes and brave knights all vied for her hand. She would have none of them, for you know that her heart was fierce and free like yours. But one day, she spied a very handsome prince. He was tall and dark, and his eyes flashed like flame, and he was more beautiful in her eyes than any man she had ever met. He was a prince of Calormen, and he was the most wicked man to ever set foot in Narnia. But she did not know that then.
"He reached out his hand to her, and intrigued, she took it. Before she knew what had happened, she was a prisoner of this wicked prince in his home city of Tashbaan. He was intent on making her his bride, and thereby having claim to Narnia. For not only was it his wish to claim her most intimately and forever, but he wished that Narnia would be his forever as well. She was trapped, you see, for days on end, and at the mercy of this wicked prince. But her will never broke, her spirit never left her. She knew she would, one day, be rescued by Aslan's will."
Rillian, shaken, interrupts, and his words are mostly gibberish. "And of course she was rescued, and she was unharmed by all of this. She was whole, she was herself." His heart beats fast as a drum.
"Of course, you are right. A brave group of knights banded together to rescue her – her brother, Edmund, and the King of Archenland and his two noble sons. They took her home, but not before destroying the wicked prince."
His mother breathes in and it's an oddly ragged sound. He holds her tighter to him.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"You like the Queen Susan," she replies. "You've always liked her."
He blushes, looks away. "Well, yes."
"Then I want you to remember that she never broke. She was strong to the last."
His mother is mysterious, he knows this implicitly, and he knows not to ask too many questions. "I will remember."
She leans in to kiss his cheek and gives him a small smile. "I am in need of merriment. Take me maying tomorrow. I wish to see the northern forests again."
He feels a surge of affection for her and he kisses her white hand.
iii. the enchantress
In sharp and sudden bursts, he is coming hard into her, crying out sharply and keeping his eyes locked shut. She is laughing and gasping and clawing at his back, goading him on to utter completion until he is half sobbing, the pain mixed evenly with pleasure.
"I love you," he breathes out, and she kisses his mouth.
"Say it again," the witch commands.
"I love you, and I will love you and follow you forever," Rilian says instantly, believing it with all his heart.
*
He knows this is madness, but it is the only thing he can do: he screams, and screams, the deafening sound ringing in his chamber, rattling the very silver he sits on. Tonight, he screams for Queen Susan to save him, for King Peter and Edmund, for the valiant Queen Lucy, to leave their mysterious other world, pick up their swords, and save him. He knows her plan, and it makes him sick. But the kings and queens of old will save him; his screams will do better than Susan's horn, his cries will wrench them out.
The witch stares at him, amused. "Even if they do come, my love, even we see your pretty Susan, the magnificent Peter, little Lucy, or my dearest Edmund—" and she laughs, "I know precisely what to do with them."
He takes a deep breath, trembling as she rises to her full height to watch him in his brief silence, and he screams again.
iv. the knight
Rillian sits at the entrance of the cave, shivering as the fire is much deeper within. But he refuses to lay down and only see earth above him. He must see the stars. And either way, there is no sleep for him now that he is free. His mind is chaos and he must meet his father in the morning.
A blanket settles around his shoulders and he looks up to see the young maiden, the brave girlchild who has delivered him. She is such a mystery to him. She's only a girl; not a star, not a queen, not a witch. It's just human blood that flows in her veins (like Susan and Lucy, like Helen). After all he's lived through, he feels honored to be in such company.
Jill sits shoulder to shoulder to him and wraps her arms around her knees. They sit there, staring at the sky for a while before he speaks.
"You're from Susan's world, aren't you?"
"Pardon?"
He looks at her face. "The world of the High King, of Peter and Susan, Edmund and Lucy."
"Oh, Scrubb's cousins? Oh yes. Quite." She looks slightly deflated.
"Do you know Susan?" he asks her and regrets it the moment he asks.
"I've only seen her picture. She's very beautiful." Rillian wonders now how much time he spent as a boy thinking on Susan's beauty. The witch was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
"I've only met Edmund and Lucy, and they were very strange. That's all I remember." Jill looks back up at the sky. "But, I suppose, I will be very strange when I return."
He doesn't understand this, but then again, he feels strange himself.
She bumps his shoulder with hers. "You're going to be alright, aren't you?"
"I hope so." He's uncertain (and will be for years; like another king of Narnia, he will never be free completely).
Jill nods firmly. "You will be, I'm sure of it."
Rillian looks at her and sees the confidence in her eyes, he sees her fealty to him and he wonders.
v. the old woman
He sits, as he is wont to do, under the shade of an apple tree, enjoying the quiet loneliness of Aslan's country and the deep expanse of sky.
Rillian starts when he feels a presence next to him and hears the ragged breathing of someone who is very old.
"I must have dozed off," the voice is a woman's. "How silly of me."
He looks over to see an old woman, beautifully dressed, with short white curls and a translucently white face. She looks at him, curious, and he sees that she has a queenly look about her (it's all in the eyes).
She raises her chin to appraise him and Aslan's country works its magic. The years reverse like they never were spent, and she's young again, a head full of the deepest black hair, and her lips pink, and her complexion smooth and unblemished. She stares at her hands, at her silken dress, and then back at him.
"I'm home, aren't I?" Susan asks.
"At last," he says.
She reaches for him and gives him the strong kisses of a queen and his joy is great.
"Take me to those I love," she asks and he laughs, jumping to his feet and offering his hand. She takes it, and they run further up and further in.
A fic for cap_red
“It’s strange, how in some countries we’re greeted as nobles and royals,” the faun said to his friend, somewhat bitterly, “And in others we could be anyone. And this country owes us tribute!”
“Yes, Nonnus, but have you noticed even when we’re greeted well ‘barbarian’ is often tacked on?” Edmund said, smirking. “I suppose being overly polite is a terrifying prospect for some. Or perhaps they want to make sure we stay humble. And if that’s the case, I thank them.”
“Anyway, Nonnus,” he continued, looking down at the youth who looked embarrassed at being overheard, “Shouldn’t you be used to more serious discomforts? Going weeks without seeing anyone but your fellows? Being relentlessly pursued?”
“Well, there should be rewards for those types of things, correct?” The faun quipped, and Edmund smiled to himself. There were reasons he’d chosen his knights.
Still, the welcome was quite cold- only one grim-faced man had greeted them on the dock and acted like escorting them across the city was a task that could’ve been thought up only in the deepest pits of the world. It was a sharp contrast to the few times he’d visited before, when the governor him or herself would greet them and walk along with them, freely sharing the state of the nation.
The city itself had changed also; from small, squat buildings encrusted with shells and bits of abalone opening up into large, bright squares, to a mixture of old and new, abalone and oil paints, yet paint in thick strokes and gaudy colors that did nothing for the taller, more tower-like buildings they were painted on and everything to detract from the small bits of glimmering shell. Here and there were small scenes more skillfully painted- a proud ship crashing through waves, a delicate crab scuttling across sand- but for the most part the paint was loud and ugly. In his opinion, at least.
They were led through streets that would’ve been unremarkable, except in their differences from each other. Some were the nests and caves of beasts, some flat, wide huts, while others were designed in Archenlandish or Calormene styles. It was a patchwork quilt of a city.
“Edmund,” Susan said, coming next to Edmund in the front of the group. “Do you see that? On that house over there?”
“Hmmm?” He squinted up to where she was pointing. “You mean the flag? It’s just, oh,” For the golden lion charging across scarlet was flying, but the lion, instead of charging out into the world and to battle, had turned tail and was running back towards the flag pole.
“Well, that’s interesting. Do you think it’s supposed to be some kind of slap?
“We could deal with that. That doesn’t matter. I’m more worried about it being a signal. Like…”
“Farna in The Woods, yes,” He interrupted, referring to the poem in which the character uses small changes in the placement of stones and branches to send messages. “I thought about that too. We’re going to need to work on this. Hopefully we’ll have some useful information brought in tonight.”
“Yes, of course. You know, that could be a useful code. Different book references, thrown into conversation and each equaling a certain message. We could work on that, Edmund.” And the prospect of a new code to develop carried them across the city to a large villa (of Archenlandish design), which sat next to a candle shop and a small pub. They were right across the street from the house with the backwards flag.
“Here is where you’ll be staying. There are people inside that will assist you. Governor Hart would like to meet with you in five hours, after you’ve settled in. She sends her greetings and says she hopes everything is satisfactory. I must leave, now.” The escort said, bowing, and left, taking his monotonous voice with him.
“Did you notice he didn’t say we couldn’t leave?” Edmund asked after they made sure all the trunks were moved inside and the crew and band of knights they had brought were all assigned rooms. “Yes, I did. Let’s go buy a candle for Alice, and then we can go get a drink. There must be so many interesting things we can find out about the people in the pub.” Susan said, raising her eyebrows.
“I agree! I think we have a friend around there, too,” He said, then laughed. “We’re alone. We don’t need to keep talking like someone is standing over us.”
“You mean you don’t want to use B-Code? I’m surprised, Edmund!” She took his hand and pulled him to the door. “Let’s go. We don’t have long, really, and I think there’s more to find out.
Oo
Edmund and Susan sat in the pub, alone at a table with only two guards, one Galmanian and one Narnian, at the next table over. “So how is your drink, Edmund?” Susan asked, in the light, breezy tone that instantly told Edmund something was off. She caught his eye as he turned to say “Very good, thank you,” and blink blink blink blink, blink, blink blink blink blink-ed, and went on, alternating between blinking lightly and heavily- almost scrunching her eyes shut, really. It was a type of code they had developed together for their intelligence agents, especially Animals, which allowed them to appear Dumb and still transmit information. There were still issues to be worked out, though. She had underestimated the difficulty of working out the correct codes and trying to act normally- which was essential; you couldn’t have people standing around staring intently at each other and blinking. The two of them were probably the best, though his more outspoken knights maintained that if you had made the rules you had a much easier time following them.
“Yes, mine is very good too,” She said in a slightly strained voice, raising her eyebrows, which he took to mean, “Did you get that?” He shook his head just slightly side to side; when he’d realized what she was getting at the message was already half way over.
He could see a sigh and perhaps an eye roll was threatening to escape from her, but to her credit she held it in and started her message again, this time a bit slower, as she gazed forward and took small sips from her glass. This time he caught the message, Left window.
He twisted his goblet to face the window, and caught sight of the house with the backwards flag. As he watched, a man walked inside. He didn’t peek around or act suspicious, but his walk was tall and stiff, with chest pushed out. It was a bit too tall, too stiff, to confident; it could be the walk of someone trying to pretend confidence. Still, he was only one man…
“Edmund, have you been drinking that same thing the entire time we’ve been here?” Ah, that was why it was important. “Dear me. I suppose it’s good, and you just want to savor it. I wonder if our escort would like some. He was ever so polite.” She grimaced at that last sentence, but he understood what she meant; ‘our escort went in.’
His first thought was that it didn’t really matter; the government as a whole was being quite anti- Narnian, and this was nothing they hadn’t already known about. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed like this was different, that it was another group working separately. The government doesn’t have to sneak around in little houses in its own country. He knew his mind was quick to form hypothesis, that this might be absolutely nothing. But it all just seemed strange…
“Susan, I’m done, are you? I was thinking we should get a candle for Lucy, to save until her anniversary. I think she’d like that.”
“Good idea, and yes, I’m done,” She said, walking out with him and the guards. At the shop Susan bought a candle that smelled like rain and Edmund sent the Rat that had been stationed there after their arrival to go across and try and get into the house. That night he would send across a Hamster, he decided. If he could find one of the little buggers.
The time passed quickly for Edmund and Susan, as they sat on her bed and talked rapidly about what they knew about Galma and what all they’d found out and how the meeting was going to go about. They received reports from a fox about how the last few months had gone.
“Many Narnians are looked down upon. So many people want to advance, and most Narnians are seen as hindering that advancement. Nothing is said regarding us legally, but most of the time we’re not listened to or are pushed out of certain places. Of course, we’re Narnians, Majesties,” the fox said, looking them in the eyes. “We will survive. But it seems Galma is more supportive of humans. And some of us animals do like to travel and would like larger ships or better weapons so we can be defended against pirates or monsters. But it seems we’re all put in one category.”
“And is there anything Narnians have done that might be deserving of this treatment?” Susan asked.
“Just a few maybe things. Sometimes people go in and steal humans’ sharp things, because they don’t want to see the forests be cut down. But they need the forest to survive!” The fox cried, his voice getting higher and higher. “Humans just want nicer houses.”
“Yes, you’re right, Fox Harper. We’ll try and do what we can,” Susan said soothingly. “Thank you for everything you’re doing here. We truly appreciate it,” She said firmly, in the tone that meant what she said was true and indisputable. “Can we get you anything to eat or drink?”
“No, thank you, Your Majesties. I must be off.” He leaped up onto the bed and out the open window, running off into the square.
“What do you think?” Susan asked.
“They’ve had a hard few months, with the storms and attacks. We’ve been spending more money than usual, on the trip to Tashbann and then the battle after, and while it doesn’t seem to us that we’ve cut the protection we’ve been giving, it must seem like it to them, after it’s all gone through and has been spread out.”
“So they’re just taking it out on our people,” Susan said, a rare fierceness in her eyes.
“Yes, exactly. As much as I hate to admit it, I think we’ve made some mistakes with Galma, Susan. And I think in trying to get the Galmanians to be friendly with the Narnians, we’ve just made more rifts. But it all seemed right at the time.” He took a deep breath. “But whatever should’ve happened, we need to fix it now, without hurting people.”
“People will always get hurt, Edmund.” Susan said quietly. “We just need to make sure it’s not too many, and not the wrong people.”
In the silence that always follows that kind of announcement, they heard the front door being opened, and then a knock at their door.
“Excuse me, your majesties?” This was not their old friend, but a young, shy, blond boy that seemed scared to poke his head through the door. “Ms. Governor, Governor Hart that is, is ready to see you. Or they told me that she was ready to see you, that is.”
“Oh yes, let’s go. Thank you,” Susan said, smiling at the boy.
“Umm, well, your majesties,” He looked extremely uncomfortable. “Only one of you is allowed to come, that is, either one or the other. That’s the rule, I don’t know why. Um, sorry.”
Susan and Edmund eyed each other nervously; almost all of the plans had been made with the assumption that both of them would be diplomats. They both had basic understandings of most every part of Galmanian culture or government, but where they went far in-depth their knowledge hadn’t overlapped much; Susan studied the basic person’s relation to the government, common custom, and how the general population was moving while Edmund had studied how the government was run. And because of this study, they both were sure this was a new rule, probably designed just for them. They could insist, but that would create too many problems too early on.
Susan smiled at Edmund and said softly, “Well, I’ve studied the people and you’ve studied the government. You take the government, I’ll continue with the people. Best of luck.”
Edmund walked out the door with the young man as Susan slipped on her boots.
Oo
Independence. Of course. How many times throughout history have colonies wanted to rule alone? Now he was dealing with this issue, knowing he was treading a fine line.
Galma was rich and productive, and to lose it would take away much of Narnia’s income. It gave them a port for trade and a base for the navy. And he firmly believed what he had told the governor, I have seen nations advanced beyond all your imagining. And I know once you are there, you will not find it so sweet. Galma was in the protection of Narnia. Was this not just protecting it from itself?
And it was home to Narnians.
But to keep it might mean war. Narnia could not afford it, the last battle had depleted much of Narnia’s treasury, and it had pulled many people away during harvest, leaving too many crop fields to rot. There was little doubt Narnia would win, but without bankrupting the country? And how many people would support a war with a colony? It’s not the kind of noble cause Narnians thrive on. It’s not the kind of cause that would call a peaceful Beast or a distracted satyr to war.
And it was home to Narnians.
When he got back from the governor’s place it was dusk, and it even later before Susan came back. After dispatching the Hamster and receiving the Rat, they sat on the floor, tea at their sides and papers in hand, sharing all they’d learned, hearing from the spies, and formulating a plan. They both knew no plan was foolproof, but the one they came up with seemed right. As Edmund went to sleep, he could even feel that it was the right thing to do. There was no twinge of guilt that this was plan was just wrong. He fell to sleep quickly, anticipating putting the plan into action. Tomorrow.
Someone in the room next door lit a candle, sending the light spilling out the window.
Somewhere, there was a small squeak.
And Edmund fell asleep.
Oo
The next morning, he would be woken up by yelling and hollering. He’d jump out of bed and hear the news, that as he slept there had been a betrayal, and all the Narnian spies in the Governor’s house and in the main circle of the city had been rounded up and killed. The hamster he sent would be one of them, caught as she listened at the door as the plans were being made. Another would be his brother-in-law, Marled. He and Susan would spend a year in Galma, kept both by the need to solve this problem and the fact that Narnia was having its coldest Winter Year in the entire Golden Age and it was causing huge storms to spin across the Strait of Narnia. It was a hot summer in Galma.
They would come home in triumph, which was smashed once again by having to comfort the families of those killed. Queen Lucy would spend a week in the forest, running barefoot over rocks and through streams, scratching words into the ground or screaming them at the sky. She was, most assuredly, not ‘always merry.’
Galma would stay a colony of Narnia through the Golden Age, though there was a rift put in and the two countries would never truly love each other again. Every now and then there would be small skirmishes, or people with eloquent voices calling for independence.
When the Golden Age ended Narnia would have years of struggle, when either too many people wanting the crown or not enough. During this time, Galma would be let go quite cheerfully, and establish itself as a true power in the world, developing fast ships and even faster weapons.
For nearly two hundred years they were nearly as rich and powerful as Calormen, but through a period of bad storms and even worse kings and queens the money would be all but spent, and Galma would become poor once again, and to their disgust, once again become a duchy of Narnia.
They would spend a time trying to gain more power in Narnia, which it would be reluctant to grant. Once of the most famous of these attempts to gain power would be the extravagant feast and tournament the Duke Genif would host for King Caspian IX. It came out that the Duke wanted to marry his daughter, Duchess Arini, to the King, who refused and left on his famous venture. He would have a son, who would become King Rilian the Disenchanted. Arini would grow into a good and intelligent Duchess of Galma, and the reputation of her wisdom would extend through much of the mainland. She would have a daughter, Heria, either as good a ruler as her mother or better, who would end up marrying Rilian and becoming Queen of Narnia.
The rule of King Rilian and Queen Heria would later be compared to the Golden Age or Narnia, and certainly became a Golden Age for Galma.
As Edmund did nothing but not wake up, he could not possibly know what he was putting into motion. There are some things not even the best laid plans can prevent or the wisest rulers predict.
Someone lit the candle that had been bought for the Queen, casting light on the figure creeping out of the house across the street.
Somewhere in the night, a little animal squeaked.
Happy 2011!!!
~Kate and Meto
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Date: 2011-01-01 04:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-01 03:40 pm (UTC)