Summary: Even kings don't feel like kings sometimes. When a duke of Archenland crosses borders under the pretense of diplomacy to court a Narnian queen, Peter fears another Rabadash. Yet all things may not be what they seem. Rising Above-verse; Peter/OC
AN: I've had this rattling around in my brain for a while, I just never had the muse to write it until now. It's been a while since I wrote for this fandom, let alone in this verse. But for those of you out there who used to read my CON stories in the Rising Above-verse, this one's for you!
Technically this takes place during The In Between Times, not long after the events of Year Four of the Golden Age. It would greatly benefit readers to have read The Ruined City, but isn't really necessary. Let me know what you think! :)
Pretenses
Part I: Eminence Front
"I understand your concerns, but until I have enough information I will not approve more expeditions to the North at this time," Peter said firmly. "My troops have only just settled back into their daily lives. Many are still recovering from their injuries."
"With all due respect, High King, your expedition to the North was nearly six months ago," a Marsh Wiggle ambassador said. "Who's to say if the giants decide to try again? The Northern Marsh is the most vulnerable."
"How secure is your northern border?" King Lune asked in simple inquiry, not to patronize.
"We've taken the necessary precautions," Peter assured. He understood Lune needed to see to his own borders and make certain giants wouldn't threaten his lands. What Peter didn't need was those under his own protection (namely Marsh Wiggle Ambassador Bal) second guessing his judgment.
"You have patrols set at the border then," said Roshan, the Duke of Galma.
"Yes, we've been monitoring the North since conquering Ettinsmoor," Edmund supplied. "The remaining giants in Harfang signed a peace treaty."
"That may well be," Roshan replied, stroking his trimly cut beard. "But can we trust the word of Ettins? Such a primitive people."
"I assure you, the Ettins were in no manner primitive," Peter said, his brows furrowing. "They showed remarkable intelligence, and architectural knowledge that far surpassed what we would've expected. I appointed the two last of their kind to rule over Harfang peacefully, provided they keep to their lands and don't cross Narnian soil."
He turned to Bal pointedly.
"Narnia is more than capable of defending her borders, and I see no reason to force the members of my army so soon from their homes," he finished, and felt rather accomplished that he'd effectively said his piece. This meeting had begun as a discussion over trade and tax, and had somehow turned into an interrogation of purely Narnian affairs when an Archenlandish dignitary brought up the possibility of trade with Ettinsmoor.
"Forgive our inquisition," Lune said with a reserved smile. "No disrespect was meant."
"Still, if the giants have promised…peace, as you say," said Ahkmar, a prince of Tashbaan well known for his skills as a mercantilist. "Then surely they may be open to fur trading, at the very least."
"Is Calormen in high demand of fur coats?" Peter couldn't stop himself from asking. The country had never even seen snow; what was the purpose of acquiring furs?
Ahkmar only smiled.
"No, your Majesty, but we trade with those who do," he said, and folded his hands over the surface of the round table the proceeding of twenty sat at. "Perhaps where your house hails the concept of higher forms of economy were not as progressive as the one you have built now."
Peter's expression hardened at the underlying insult, though it also threw him off kilter as he tried to figure out the prince's meaning.
"My house is of Narnia—"
"I believe I heard once that the kings and queens of Narnia are, in fact, from beyond its borders," Ahkmar said coolly, "from a land called Spare 'Oom, if I'm not mistaken."
The tension in the room silenced it. Peter stiffened in his seat, unsure of a reply to the accusation. It was true that they were not originally from Narnia. A country not loyal to Aslan, such as Calormen, could reason that Peter and his family had no right to rule a country where they were not elected, nor born, nor have inherited the throne by blood.
Some at the table shifted their eyes to one another as suspicious whispers started to replace conversation, until Edmund spoke.
"You would be right, Ahkmar."
It was a shock to the table of twenty, where more than ten countries and provinces were represented. But he didn't end his point here.
"But excluding the White Witch, our predecessors descended from the first king of Narnia, Frank I and his Queen Helen," Edmund revealed. "They were both from our land, Spare 'Oom. Aslan intended this with our reign, to restore what Jadis destroyed."
He looked at each sitting at the table in the eyes, ending with the prince of Calormen.
"And as you can see," he said, "the Narnian Empire has only benefited from it."
After the proceedings were dismissed, Lune, ever the gracious host, sincerely apologized to both Peter and Edmund if they had been offended.
"It wasn't your doing," Peter assured him.
"Still, these people are guests in my kingdom," Lune said, gesturing in exasperation at the retreating forms of nobles, dukes, and other government officials down the long hall. "I will not tolerate disrespect to any of my guests, let alone my friends."
"We appreciate it," Edmund said.
"Please, I hope this has not ruined your evening," Lune said. "There are festivities to be enjoyed, and if I'm not mistaken, your queens are already getting ready."
"I don't understand it, Ed. I just…blanked."
"Come on, Pete. He threw you a curve ball," Edmund said. He sat down heavily on the decorative sofa in his brother's guest room while said brother adjusted his cufflinks in the large vanity mirror. Anvard's servants had long finished helping him dress.
"Yeah, but I've dealt with worse," Peter said, and turned to his brother.
He had been dealing with the nobles of Calormen since Peter and his family started their rule, and had always handled any underhandedness with the right amount of tact. If only the whole of Calormen wasn't ruled by the arrogance of Tashbaani princes and kings, if the truly decent and honorable people he knew populated the more impoverished cities were freed from their capital's vice grip.
"I'm a king—I've been a king. For almost five years now. I shouldn't have let him question our authority—my authority."
"Don't dwell on it," Edmund bounced off his brother's bed and pat him on the shoulder. "We handled it, and we leave in a few days anyway. Just enjoy tonight, all right? It's not every year Lune throws the shindig to end all shindigs."
Peter met Edmund's grinning reflection in the mirror with a small smirk and a raised brow.
"Uh, yeah. It is every year."
Edmund shrugged.
"True, but it is his birthday."
The High King found himself wandering into the Anvard Library (almost as old as the Narnian Library) an hour before the party was set to begin, and he would have to find his brother and the girls. For now, he allowed himself to get lost in a large volume in one of a few comfortable couches.
"Found a good read, huh?"
The question startled him out of the lines he was reading, but he smiled in playful exasperation when he looked up. Alexa stood in front of him with a steaming mug in her hands, also smiling.
"It's not as riveting as I'd hoped," he admitted, and gave her attire a casual glance. "You…you look lovely."
Her smile became more reserved, but warm.
"Thank you," she said, and sat down gracefully beside him. He knew it was only in the sake of not spilling whatever was in her mug on the violet and gold dress she wore. Her hair was twisted into a more intricate version of an up-do he'd seen many of the Archenlandish women wearing.
"What have you got there?" he asked, peering over to spy the semi-dark liquid swirling inside.
"It's for you." Alexa smiled and handed it over. "I figured you could do with a pick-me-up before you have to be all 'majestic High King' for the party."
Peter gave her a wry glance.
"Ed told you then," he said. He was pleasantly surprised at the taste of hot pomegranate tea with sugar, no cream. It was his favorite when he needed to decompress.
"Tashbaan nobility live off of cheap shots," she said. "Ahkmar is smart, but no different."
Peter sighed and eventually nodded.
"What're you reading?" Alexa asked. She turned her head sideways to read the spine.
"What? Oh."
He lifted the cover from his lap so she could see it. Her brows rose.
"Economics of the First Age: Volume I," she read, and glanced up at him with a teasing smile. "Some light reading?"
He laughed and replied,
"Some."
"Peter, I've seen you read books like this backwards and forwards before," she said. "You know them by heart. One tough meeting isn't going to undo all that."
"I know that. Only," he trailed, and shook his head. "I don't know. I guess I just wanted to brush up. Ed's so much better at that part of it than I am."
"Your brother is very smart, a great and fair politician. Something that can't be said of many," Alexa said with a grin, then grasped Peter's shoulder. "But you are too, Pete. You're a good leader."
Peter returned her smile, warmed by her confidence in him.
"Thanks for the tea."
Alexa left Peter to have a moment to himself before what was sure to be a grand event, and hastened down the halls to find Susan, Edmund and Lucy. Upon turning the corner, she stepped headlong into a strong chest and knew for a fact she trampled over a foot in her heels.
"I'm so sorry," she gasped, and looked up into eyes as dark as coals to accompany dark hair, a deep brunette. From the colors of his fine clothing she knew he was of Archenland, and high ranking.
"I'm terribly sorry," she repeated, though the stranger righted himself and smiled slightly, bowing low.
"No, it is I who should apologize, your Majesty." His voice was steady, yet neither smooth nor rough. It had the power to cut through her flustering and still her when he straightened, dark eyes meeting hers directly. "Are you hurt?"
"N-No…no I'm fine."
"Very good," he said with a final smile that was not quite one. "It is the highest honor to have met you, your Highness."
She nodded, and the man was gone.
Then she couldn't help but think he was quite rude. He seemed to have known exactly who she was, and yet…
He never…gave me his name.
The party was, much like King Lune, both boisterous and grandiose. Music played loudly, the sound of horns filling the room almost as much as Lune's laughter. There were large buffet spreads that met the length of the room, vast selections of wine and mead, meats, cheese and other hors d'oeuvres and plates.
There were entertainers among those seated and dining at the long dining tables while many, including Lucy, took to the dance floor. Alexa and Susan found themselves near the appetizers of shrimp and gourmet finger sandwiches, making conversation in a familiar group of young court ladies: the daughters of Archenlandish noblemen and the queen of Archenland's sister, Daera.
She was a duchess in her own right, and by her finery and manner made sure everyone knew it. But she was an elegant and highly entertaining woman that the Narnian queens could trust beyond any other court member (excluding Lune and his wife, Devina), and had from the beginning of their reign. She was an individual that let very little slip by her notice.
"Will you not dance tonight, Daera?" Susan asked once many of the court ladies tittered off, either by being offered a dance or by the chance of having a conversation with the Narnian High King who happened to walk by with his brother.
"No, dear," the duchess replied. She fanned herself with a simple, but beautiful fan embroidered in gold. "I shan't step on any toes."
"But you're a fine dancer," Alexa pointed out. She sipped at a glass of wine that was just sweet enough for her taste.
"Perhaps," Daera allowed with a curve of scarlet red lips. "But from what I can see, there's no room for real dance."
"What do you mean?" Susan asked.
"Not with those ninnies," she gestured haphazardly with her fan at some of the ladies who had just left their company, "draping themselves off any eligible bachelor that offers their hand."
Alexa and Susan shared secret smiles.
"That isn't very kind," Alexa reminded knowingly. The duchess scoffed.
"Kindness is for diplomacy, dear."
"I believe you mean politeness."
"It all brings the same effect," Daera waved dismissively. Alexa would have laughed along with Susan if she hadn't seen a familiar man mere feet away, talking with Ahkmar. He was tall, with shoulder-length dark hair blocking her view of his face. Until he took a glass of white wine offered to him and continued his conversation, allowing her to glimpse his face.
And he bore a striking resemblance to the man she trampled over earlier this evening.
"Ah, so you've noticed the Duke of Scalenfolk," Daera said, effectively bringing Alexa out of her reverie. "You and every single noblewoman from here to the Seven Isles."
"You know him?" Alexa turned to the duchess in askance.
"Only by reputation," she smiled. Something unknown flickered in her eyes. "A respectable man, well-liked, though something of an enigma. He usually avoids court festivities."
"He seems familiar," Susan said, glancing discreetly where Alexa had been looking.
"No doubt you've seen him before," Daera said. "He's closely knitted within Lune's inner circles. He out of anyone would have been expected to attend tonight."
Alexa swallowed past the uncomfortable constrict of embarrassment that flared. Her presumption of his rank had been correct, and knowing it was one of her host's men she had trampled somehow made it all the worse.
She looked back at him, but didn't see the duke, or Ahkmar either for that matter.
"Good evening, your Majesty."
Alexa looked up and nearly dropped her glass. Fortunately she held it just tight enough.
"Good evening," she replied on instinct. The Duke of Scalenfolk bowed low respectfully, then greeted Susan and Daera similarly.
"Forgive my intrusion, but I would be most honored if her Majesty the Courageous obliged me with a dance."
His voice was the same—steady, with no real grit to it but not soft either.
"My pleasure," were the words that escaped her as she offered her hand, and suddenly she was swept up into a twirling crowd that parted for a Queen of Narnia and a duke of his home country.
"You must think me awfully rude," he later said, not long after the music started up again. What Daera said about him about avoiding parties might've been true, but his prowess in dancing hadn't seemed to suffer from negligence.
"Why would I think such a thing?" Alexa asked.
"I still haven't introduced myself," the duke replied after spinning them twice.
"A high breach in protocol," she acknowledged, "since you already know who I am."
They spun away from each other, only to return with only their left hands meeting, palm against palm.
"I'll consider it repayment for my earlier ungraceful blunder," she said, and he returned her somewhat playful smile. She didn't know what gave her the boldness to tease someone she hardly knew, but it seemed to be working in her favor. Following the steps of the dance and the other couples, they spun toward one another and his hand found her waist again, the other never leaving her hand.
"A queen is never at fault," he said.
The music came to a close. They parted then, but not without the duke bowing low over her hand. His lips pressed to her knuckles gently before dark eyes met hers.
"My name is Kaine, cousin to Princes Cor and Corin."
"It seems you've left out something in your late introduction, Kaine," she teased once he straightened. He blinked, and for the first time looked the slightest bit confused, until realization dawned and he bowed again.
"Please forgive me, your Majesty. I am Kaine, Duke of Scalenfolk," he said, and with a lighter tone to his eyes, "I would be honored to dance again, if her Majesty desires."
Alexa smiled.
"I suppose one more wouldn't hurt."
Peter repressed a shudder as he returned to his reserved seat near the head of the table, where Lune and Devina sat with Daera and other royal guests.
"Ah, Peter," Lune thundered. "Join us! We're just discussing the hunt planned for tomorrow."
"Ah, yes, another world famous one I'm sure," Peter said, and tried not to sit down too heavily into his chair.
"If you don't mind me saying so, your highness, you seem rather winded," Daera commented. The smile in her eyes told him she knew the reason why.
"Yes, well, the dance floor is a cruel place," he replied wryly.
"Or he obliged every lady of the court," said Edmund, who slid into a seat beside his brother, to the boisterous laughter of King Lune.
"You are allowed to refuse them," Daera said, with a small smirk behind her fan.
"I prefer to be gracious," Peter said, and resisted the urge to cross his arms defensively. Instead, he forked a steak onto his empty plate and scooped some buttered potatoes. He turned to his brother, who looked out at the spinning couples and the orchestra somewhat longingly.
"Have you had a dance yet, Ed?" Peter asked.
"I haven't been able to," he admitted, lowering his voice. "Alexa keeps twirling off with some Archenlandish aristocrat who's been hogging her all bloody night."
This both answered Peter's question and yet confused him. He knew of his brother's convoluted theory that the ladies of court were more receptive to his advances once they saw how skilled of a dancer he was with Alexa as his partner (with was only a product of how often the two had practiced with one another).
Archenlandish aristocrat…
"What?"
He turned in his chair and searched the room until his gaze settled on his best friend in the arms of a tall, dark haired noble.
"They've been together all night?" he asked.
"Pretty much," Edmund said, and in amusement he watched the range of emotions that played across his brother's face—from curiosity, to annoyance, then the smothering of said annoyance, followed by nonchalance.
"You haven't danced with her tonight either, have you?" Edmund asked. He couldn't describe how much he enjoyed getting under his brother's skin.
"She can dance with whoever she wants," Peter said, and continued digging into his steak. Edmund inwardly rolled his eyes.
"Sure."
"It's all a blur, Su," Alexa sighed heavily. "I might've danced all night."
"You did dance all night," Susan corrected, but she was smiling as she slid another pin from Alexa's hair.
"I bet she would've danced until dawn if they let her," Lucy remarked. Alexa only hummed in agreement as she stared at the mirror in front of her and Susan a bit listlessly.
"Look at you," Susan laughed. "You're head has never been so far off the ground."
"Clouds are nice I suppose," Alexa murmured, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand.
"Wow," Lucy said. "He must've been some duke."
"Hmm, he was lovely."
Susan grinned while Lucy snickered.
"He spoke little of himself," Alexa reflected, "Only that he has a younger brother in Lune's Royal Guard…he said that was the first party he had enjoyed in a long time."
"Really?" Lucy asked.
"He wanted to dance with me again, tomorrow night."
King Lune was notorious for extending his festivities, his birthday being one that lasted for three days. Which in retrospect was nothing compared to his son Cor's homecoming, which lasted nearly a month.
"He must be taken with you," said Lucy. Alexa's smile was small.
"Maybe," she said.
"Just," Susan said, a hint of warning in her tone, "tread carefully. I hate to be…well, me, but—"
"Su, we just met," Alexa assured. "We've only danced. I promise, you know I wouldn't rush into anything."
"All it ever takes is a dance," Susan said sagely. It always served to amuse Alexa how Susan acted as if she were the eldest of the three of them. Then again, she supposed Susan did know from experience where being charmed too easily could lead.