"We come seeking our sister. We come seeking our Queen."
Too soon after a coronation, a visit from foreign dignitaries from an unknown land wasn't one of Francis' agendas. Knowing though, that a ship was docked at their harbor and requested an audience so humbly, he couldn't deny or delay. The plague was put off to the back of his head and the topic of Stephane Narcisse was put aside. Both were pretty much large things, but this threat (or was it a blessing?) took all his attention. Who wouldn't? When there was a large ship that docked on France's harbor with a grandeur that not even France in all its glory, could compare or achieve. Francis brought his fist to his chin, watching the congregation before him. No, not congregation, it was family. Clearly a family.
"Why are you searching for your Queen? Was she taken from you? Your wife and at the same time sister?" Mary who was doing a grand job keeping her emotions in check. Who would allow in this Catholic country (world) to allow siblings as husband and wife? Francis watched as the dark haired king smirked in surprise and amusement. This dark haired king took front of the delegation, addressing the court with a mastery that surprised even Catherine (Francis saw the intrigue that etched his mother's face.) admired. What was more admiring was that, they weren't even as old as his father. Goodness, they were just a few years older than he was. Francis was sure he was a king, the very bearing was enough to tell him it is so.
"My apologies, Your Majesties. I should have thought that introductions are less shocking than why we are here." The stranger placed a hand on his chest. "We are from the land of Narnia, unknown and unheard and farther than you could ever fathom. My siblings and I are hailed as their monarchs, and to answer the gracious Queen, no we aren't married. "
The two that stood behind him stepped forward with such coordination that only spoke of sharing lifetimes. (Francis wondered if he and Bash would achieve such bond.) It was like watching the sun rise and the sky turn blue with so simple an action. The eldest brother, a golden haired and warrior bred man (never boy or youngster), stared at him with eyes on a day after the storm. The sword strapped on his side was gleaming gold and Francis, being a warrior himself, admired the lion on the handle. "I am High King Peter, Head of my House and dubbed Magnificent."
There was a sigh on the dark haired King's lips, and the man named Peter rolled his eyes.
"Queen Lucy the Valiant." The lady to Francis' left, dipped into a light curtsy, her flower crowned hair bright and happy amid the court's dreary halls. The dagger and cordial strapped around her waist, made Francis consider on giving Mary some weapon of defense.
"I am King Edmund," The cool voice took his attention from his musings once more. "And as I have said, we are searching for our sister. We are searching for our Queen."
Francis wished that this was held in a more private setting, as the whispers that surged after that declaration was well kept but perfectly known. He took a deep breath, raising his gaze to survey what stood behind the three monarchs and tried to understand what was happening. Two wolves, a tiger, and two cheetahs sat on their heels with their gazes glued on the thrones. (It made Francis squirm.) Larger than what he knew and undeniably well trained. (He wondered if they were there to intimidate, or for protection.) Behind the animals was a man. A man who decided that black was his color from his hair to his boots and it made his pale skin stand out. (Black that seemed to mourn or at least to blend with the shadows.) Eyes trained forward but Francis doubted that he was seeing anything. Not that the man was blind, but because he was too deep in thought to even notice.
Francis felt Mary's gaze on him for a moment, before once again hearing her voice. "We have not taken any Queen under our care. I apologize that you have to go here yourselves when you could've sent a messenger to let us know. It would've saved you time and effort. The only queens that we have amongst us are myself and the Queen Mother."
"Believe me Your Majesty," It was Queen Lucy that answered. "We wouldn't even be able to be here if we aren't sure that my sister is here. We do not mean any offense, but Susan can pretty much be anyone she decides to be. If she doesn't want to be found out as a Queen in a land like this, and all alone, no one would ever know. She disappeared, taken we believe, three years ago. "
"Do you have a portrait of your Sister Queen?" Francis started, finally straightening having reached something that could be of use. The echoes of the whispers grew louder, the pressure almost overbearing. "This would help us distinguish who she is if she is in this court. We can also help spread the word that we are looking for her. I hope and pray though, that she is close by. A few days ago, a deathly plague just ebbed down and we are still suffering its effects." He can feel the disapproving look Catherine sent his way. "I hope your sister is still alive."
"She is." The man clad in black stepped forward with purpose. The kings and queen parted to give him way as he approached the dais. He started pulling at a chain around his neck and completely slipped it off. A smirk, quite confident but still hollow, painted the man's countenance. "Unless you would like a life size portrait, this is all that we have."
Francis held up a hand to stop one of the guards from taking it and just passing it to him. He stood up and got the locket himself. Only meeting the man eye to eye because he was stepping on the dais. The locket was clean and heavy in his hands. A simple square on his palm perfect to fit a small portrait. Opening it, he felt a breath get stuck on his throat. Blinking, he met the stranger's feline like eyes. He whispered, "Who are you to her?"
"I am her husband." The man's eyes were searing and Francis mustered to keep his face neutral. Francis gave a simple nod and returned the necklace, which was quickly replaced where it was. Another nod and Francis turned to Mary this time. The Queen of Scots was already looking at him with a loaded gaze of questions he rather not answer. Leaning to Mary's ear, he whispered his orders and was thankful that her face didn't even twitch.
Mary stood and met his gaze before leaving the room. Kenna and Greer immediately moving to follow their Queen. "Lady Kenna, Lady Greer, stay. Mary is escorted by guards, and there is no need to panic. Only my mother, my deputy and Mary's ladies would stay. The rest are dismissed."
LINEBREAK
"Get Lola." Two words that put lead in Mary's bones. It was surprising even that she was able to stand firm and keep her expression in check. She wondered if her exit was even graceful to be labeled queenly. She knew what that could've meant. She knew that the delegation that was in the throne room wasn't a hoax. She knew from the moment that they entered and power surged, that they were the monarchs that achieved even more than her predecessors had in lifetimes.
"Get Lola." She saw the stiffening of Francis' back when he opened the locket. He saw the way the stranger's mouth formed his words. She felt a sickening dread in her stomach when the young Queen Lucy spoke. If Susan doesn't want to be found, she wouldn't. Her hands fisted on her skirts. The amusement and the belief in King Edmund's gaze was borderline mocking but the truth... the knowledge in his stance was haunting. How can they be so sure?
"Get Lola." Why Lola? She knew Lola since she was a child. Kenna, Greer and Aylee knew Lola ever since they learned to walk. Why her? Isn't it possible that this Queen Susan is just the same face? How would a woman such as her be taken from a land too far to fathom to France? Would Lola have any knowledge on who this Queen Susan is? Mary shook her head. Plague. Narcisse and Estelle. Child. Christening. She breathed deep. I am Mary, Queen of Scots and France. No longer a clueless child.
"What choice does a common village girl has compared to a queen?" Lola's words echoed, her face etched with
contained fury and her eyes like crystal ice. "You. You will always have a choice."
Then there was the door to Lola's quarters, and all Mary wanted to do was to run far away. She raised her hand and hesitated for a moment, feeling the heavy gaze of her escorts on her back. Knock. Knock. Knock. She took another deep breath, forcing the pressure that was clamping her lungs out and gone. "Lola?"
A few moments of silence. "My apologies Your Majesty, do come in."
Pushing the door open was like opening an ancient metal chest. The creaking of the hinges hurting her ears. Lola stood in the middle of her room, gazing down her son (Son. Child. Babe. Feel the pain of your loss, little queen.) and humming a lullaby. The windows opened wide behind her to cool the small room and what Mary saw for the first few moments was nothing but a silhouette. ("It's a disappointment that they do not have balconies for many rooms." Lola once said when they first arrived.) Mary blinked back the light and straightened her back. ("Can I have the room with the most windows?" Lola requested when the bargaining for rooms started. Kenna, Greer and Aylee agreed without complaint.) Mary waited, not wanting to break the simple happiness that she already intruded with her presence. ("Aligned with the castle, but with distance." Lola asking to be released as a lady-in-waiting. "Outside.") Lola always wanted to be outside. Picnics, trips, walks, she would choose to be as close to outside as possible. Window seats were hers by understanding.
"Hush little one. The lion will watch over you." She watched as Lola placed a solemn kiss on her son's brow. The babe's hands were tangled on her dark curls, waving and pulling. Lola chuckled. "Oh, a fine horseman you will be. I do hope love that you wouldn't use my hair as reins."
The smile on Lola's face faded the moment she looked up to meet Mary's gaze. "What is it Your Majesty?"
The gap that was torn with their argument that morning, gaped before Mary's eyes. Only now did she note the confidence in Lola's stance and the perfect blank face that she now gave her. Mary pushed the haunting thoughts out her mind. She knew Lola. She knew the child that she grew up with and she knew that it would mean a great deal of lying for someone to even pose as her childhood friend. How could one know a lifetime if one hadn't lived it?
If Susan doesn't want to be found, she wouldn't.
There was no estranged queen in this place.
Mary sculpted a smile. (Ever the gracious queen. aren't we?) "Francis wishes that you come to the throne room. There is a matter that needed to be discussed and your presence is needed."
"Can I bring my son? I thought I would have the chance to take care of him today so I sent the nannies to rest. I wouldn't want to inconvenience them any more."
"Of course. If it wouldn't be too much for the little one."
Lola's smile wasn't for the Queen, but for her son. "Of course it wouldn't. He's her mother's son."
(There was no pain. Well, if envy isn't pain.)
"Shall we?" It was quite amazing to think that Mary, Queen of Scots and France, was shaking in her bones. The simplicity of Lola's smile and the steady steps she took, made Mary's mind race. A question that she forced to swallow, but echoed in her head. You are Lola, are you not? Mary could only nod. "Can you tell me about why I am summoned?"
Mary swallowed the lump in her throat.
"Ah." Lola's eyes showed understanding and a quiet smile.
"H-how is he?" Mary motioned to the child in her arms.
"He will be a strong boy." Lola cradled the boy with a hum, a movement smooth and already mastered.
Envy. Envy. Envy.
Lies. Lies. Liar.
Lady. Queen. Sister.
Why afraid, Mary?
The sounds of the babe's giggling and their footsteps echoed through the halls. Lola's quiet whispers of adoration a scream to Mary's ears. (Childless. Heirless. Barren.) Was it she that slowed down the pace? Or was it Lola who was now looking at the hallways with concern etched on her face?
LINEBREAK
"What are your plans when you find your Sister Queen?" Those were Catherine de Medici's first words the moment that silence settled in the throne room. The animals (How quaint. How cunning.) were still immovable. Queen Lucy was still smiling. King Edmund, smirking. The High King (What a twisted type of monarchy? How would the next generation of monarchy go?) had his hand on his sword handle and as steady as a rock in a storm.
"It depends on what situation our sister is in. If she is fine and will be fine to leave this place, severe her ties with her new found friends, then we will leave immediately. If not, then we have at least a month to stay. Is it a month?" Peter looked at Edmund.
"One at least, three at most." Edmund answered readily.
"There is no need for rooms for us Your Majesty, Queen Mother." Lucy held herself with a light grace, as if she was running at a beach with the sun on her face. "We have lodgings in our ship and we have supplies to last through the whole three months. All we wish is to have our sister with us and resolve whatever situation she's in."
"Why stay on the ship, we will be glad to arrange rooms for you." Catherine smiled, her mind racing with plans and questions that needed resolutions. "I am sure that wouldn't be too much trouble."
"Our party isn't just us and those who manage the ship. You can consider this trip as a family outing." Peter smiled sheepishly.
"The children are ecstatic to see their auntie after three years." Edmund shrugged.
"How large is your family? I wouldn't allow myself to have you settle in a ship after such a long travel! Especially with children." Catherine was adamant. She wouldn't allow, never would allow, this chance for Francis to learn of how it was to be a king. A better king than his father, and if it would mean to learn from this foreign set of monarchs, Catherine would be damned to let this chance go.
A look passed between the four, and the animals (What are they for anyway? Pets? Where are their own set of guards?) shifted on their places, ears flicking this way and that. A slight tilt of head and a simple raise of a brow, Catherine watched as a decision was made.
"We will speak to our companions about this arrangement. We will send a message once we have seen our sister and a decision is made between all of us." Peter said with finality.
"I hope the newly crowned monarchs aren't offended?"
Catherine froze. Francis straightened. Kenna and Greer exhaled. Bash took hold of his sword.
"No we are not. I understand how it feels to be apart from someone you love."
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Edmund's smile never faded.
The animals moved, surprising Catherine and making Mary's ladies step back. The unnamed man, Catherine cannot fathom why Francis never asked or no one introduced him, tensed. There was a hush that suddenly took over the whole room. The foreign monarchs looked at the door with an expectancy, an assurance and confidence, that what they have decided was right.
The moment Mary showed up with Lola in tow, the baby in her arms started crying, and Catherine could only stop the laughing that tried to escape her lips.
Her? Her? Impossible.
"Susan!" Lucy's voice echoed.
Impossible.
LINEBREAK
The baby's cries hurt Mary's ears, but the cry of the name was enough to silence everything and made her move. She needed to see, needed to know, the truth that she held close to her heart to carry on being the truth that she deemed to be. Everything followed in slow motion. (Like a heart being dragged through a floor of broken glass.)
Shock. (was the first emotion.)
Lola's sudden tensing came from the depths of her kind heart and no painter could ever capture the emotion in her eyes. Like twinkling stars they burst, the blue in her eyes so hollow compared to what came after the surge. There was no confusion.
Only surprise. (Staggering. Quiet. Undeniable.)
Lola's head snapped and her body jerked in a suddenness that left a blur to Mary's eyes. (Everything was still so slow.) There was a painful ringing in Mary's ears. "Susan!" "Susan!" A name that was rejected by the walls and pushed harshly into her ears. Lola's face changed, the youthful innocence being overpowered by Queen Lucy's powerful own. An innocence that Mary now found quite out of place for Lola.
(An innocence clung to.
Desperately?
No.)
"Lucy." A small smile that shined like shy sunlight.
Lady of sorrows, she that cried.
Her back bent in service,
to siblings that died.
To friends. To country. To Queen.
"Peter." Steadier. A whisper that started a storm.
Hidden thoughts, quiet
whispers, simple dreams.
Straighter the sorrow-lady now stood.
Tears no longer agony.
"Edmund." A wolf's howl to a full moon.
The sun has come to caress
from dreary heavens,
Sky exploding blue
encompassing,
"Susan." Lucy cried as she halted in front of Lola. (Susan, a name that seemed lacking when unspoken.)
The moon that once absent
coming full,
Welcoming stars now here
like lilies thrown in glee.
Mary, in all clarity, saw Lola (Susan.) shuddered with a smile on her face still unwavering, and tears running down her cheeks like crystals. The atmosphere in the room, that she knew Francis felt, now balanced. Darkness and light dancing in perfect harmony. Lucy's hug was tight, yet careful, and the way Lola's face buried into the other's shoulder was a perfect picture of relief.
"Aslan's blessings to thee my beloved sister." Lucy's voice resounded like a lion's roar, steady even with her own tears running like rivers. The kiss she placed on Lola's (How long would you hold on to that lie, little Mary?) forehead was soft and full of love.
"His love and guidance to you, my dear little Lu." The breath Lola released, like a well kept secret that was always needed to be screamed, was that of freedom. And so, Mary found the truth that she kept shattered. A truth taken from her hands and thrown to a wall.
(Envy is such an ugly feeling is it not?)
Sebastian de Pontiers (Unclaimed. Bastard forever.) watched with wonder as the lady that was Lola shed the innocence of a young woman that still stayed with her even after the hell that was French Court. The gentleness that stayed, wasn't only that of a new mother but a woman who lived a life more than a simple lady-in-waiting could compare. He moved closer to Kenna's side, thinking of the pain and confusion his wife must be feeling.
"Blessings of the Lion, little one. Son of the South and blood of the Sun." There was no loathing in Lucy's voice when she uttered the words. The understanding he saw in her gaze was humbling, and it wasn't even directed at him. The tender touch that was bestowed was too loving that it was painful. "You will forever be loved. May I carry him Su?"
(Lola was too unsuitable for a lady of her gentleness. He had known it the moment she stood by his sickbed.)
Susan nodded and passed the babe to her sister's ready arms. Like a scene coming to a close, a new one came rushing in. Peter and Edmund moved with a speed and grace that were warrior bred. Large steps and open arms brought Peter to his sister, hugging her and lifting her from the ground. A choked sob escaped Susan and her grip was manifest enough of her longing. (Three years. Three long years with majority of it in a court that she barely belongs to.) Edmund waited patiently, his emotion in check and his hands folded neatly to his back. The moment Peter let go of Susan though, he rushed in a playful bow before pulling her into a hug. Susan laughed, a tinkling melody where happiness couldn't be denied. Sebastian watched as Edmund's emotions came to spotlight.
It was a celebration of the heavens.
Peter and Lucy looked down at the babe with fondness. (Francis' son. Bastard. Loved, clearly loved and never questioned. A blessing and clearly not blamed as a mistake.) The kisses and cooing of the younger woman and the giggles that were the replies made such a happy background. Teasing whispers exchanged between eldest brother and youngest sister, about swords and horses and toys that could be given for the little one. A scene that made Bash remember those commoners that animatedly talked of their wishes for a child's future.
(A thousand if onlys and what ifs painted on walls of a mind's room slowly fading. A picture frame of a family slowly replacing such broken dreams. Now, a wish for a better future. Oh envy, envy, envy what a cunning feeling thou art.)
Bash' arm tightened around Kenna's waist.
LINEBREAK
You're the strong one then. (Tables always turn don't they? Surely you've expected that age old truth?)
The animals whose presence Catherine couldn't determine, now stood in attention with their gazes on Lola. After all the hugs were done, as loving and tear worthy it was, Catherine could never believe when one of the wolves approached the lady-in-waiting then bowed. If wolves can bow and give salute. (Trained. Trained in a long arduous way that instills obedience in every form.)
Of course, who would've thought? A seductress, a forger, a spy…surely the strong one wouldn't just be strong. Though, who would expect that she was a queen of her own right?
(Have you never noticed how she could play your games so exquisitely? Have you never wondered…who is playing who?)
LINEBREAK
There was no time to think or no time to speak. The emotions that broke the dam so carefully built (for three years maintained) made her heart so pained in happiness. Susan cried silent tears, freedom obtained (finally, finally), as she revelled on her siblings' presence, reveled in their arms. (Reveled in Narnian air, scents, texture, sounds.) She stumbled when Edmund released her but was soon in another's arms. Finally, finally, Susan let the sobs strangled in her throat loose. Her sobs muffled by her lips against another. A kiss that pulled her soul out of the drowning swamp that she pushed herself through for three years.
If only you know,
You were dressed in lovely white,
And him in burnt coal.
"You promised me that you will be my moon, as you are the stars to your siblings, to Narnia." Deep voice that no one in the French Court could compare. Strong arms that held her both in love and hate (loathing, murder, death). The scent of night and forests engulfed her, filled her lungs and loosening the knot in her stomach. Pain, sorrow, agony contained in so few a words, yet to Susan they were expressed in utmost clarity. (Like a child taken away from his beloved friend, a friend who stayed through everything.) His words only for her, whispered to her skin like a prayer. "You promised me and I tried to understand that this is just a new moon. That you are still there. That you will come back."
You were beautiful,
Angel and Devil you looked,
A love that's taboo.
Susan could only tighten her arms around him, take him in with every breath. Her apologies written with each tear, sung in each shudder and expressed in every quiver of her fingers. The ice he built around him slowly melting through her fingers. "I waited."
"I fought the darkness alone." His strong and steady voice cracked. "I tried to fight, did my best to run. I prayed that you will remember me. I prayed that you will come back."
"I am sorry, Ioan. I am so sorry, my dear Wolf." She whispered to his neck, the same way he did to her. A prayer.
"There is no need for apologies." She scoffed. He grinned, pulling back to give her a glimpse of the relief in his gaze. (It didn't hide the dark circles around his eyes, the weariness in his bones, and the lost look on his face.) The tears held back but there. (Tears were rare for a man like him. His emotions shut down for years unnumbered, before she ever came along.) "For as a Wolf, I will seek you and I will scour heaven and earth."
"Well, I think it's settled. We will be taking the rooms, Your Majesties. I do advise that you prepare enough for..." Edmund stepped forward, ever the logistics man, and calculated. "Four families, five ladies in waiting and three knights."
"And the animals - pets?" Catherine asked with a smile but with one end just a tad higher than the other.
"Guards. They are our guards." Susan (once named Lola, but Lola too, still) finally found the strength so her voice was steady enough. She was thankful though of Ioan's arm around her waist, and the presence of her family behind her. Narnian air filled her lungs and called for her blood. Come home. Come home. Beloved Queen come home to me. "And they will stay with us."
"We have a room in the west wing that you can stay in for the time being so we can set the rooms up for you to use for the duration of your stay. Lola...Susan, would like to talk to all of you for a long time." Susan whirled around to see Mary smiling. (Eyes troubled, betrayal leaking out like ink stained tears, and confusion brewing in the very depth of her pores. Susan felt power in her observations and it was exhilarating to claim it as Susan.) "Whatever decision you decide on, we will be ready to hear it."
"Thank you very much, but we will talk in my quarters." A curtsy she was so used to, came after such statement.
She didn't see Mary's surprise, or Francis' gaze. She was too happy.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
FCs:
IOAN: BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH
I only own some of the plot. Some characters are from ideas used and unused in the RP GROUP "The Golden Age of Narnia's Past" in Tumblr. Pretty much, this is fanfiction of fanfiction or something. Just, the idea of the crossover is just mine. Some minor changes in backstory. Just… not mine.
EDIT: I DARN ALWAYS FORGET THE LINEBREAK PROBLEM OF FF. I HOPE THIS IS FIXED NOW.
