by Sammie
DISCLAIMER: Not mine.
RATING: F-. Is anybody even checking these ratings?
BERN - HIS GRACE, THE DUKE OF THE LONE ISLANDS
Bern was in for more surprises than he had anticipated.
He had hoped, rather than believed, that his friends had been alive; who knew what lay beyond? Yet there were four before him, coming down the gangplank from the Dawn Treader. He was bursting with both joy and curiosity; he had not seen these men in years.
In what most would consider undignified behavior, he ran from his spot on shore, down towards the dock. He embraced each one, blinking back tears, even as he mentally calculated the loss. Octesian and Restimar were missing, he noted sadly, but he was not made for low spirits, and the joy of his four friends at seeing him quickly set him back to rights.
Bern turned to greet his king, who was beaming in delight at seeing his father's friends reunited. The duke began to welcome him back, and then stopped short when he noticed the young woman on the king's arm. This was certainly not the girl he had met previously, the legendary (but apparently not mythical) Queen Lucy of Narnian yesteryear.
Bern looked back at the young king, and he knew instantly why she was there and who se was; the king wore the same expression Bern had when he had first stopped at the Lone Islands and saw the islander who became his wife. "My congratulations, Your Majesty."
The Telmarine lords stayed up far later that evening than even the king and the crew, talking into the night. Despite his wife and his daughters having long ago gone to bed, Bern felt his second wind coming on. He marveled at the adventures his friends had had and shuddered at Rhoop's misfortune. They had come so close to the end of the world; to have seen it - ! Yet, while delighted and curious, he did not regret his own decision to stay at the Lone Islands. His wife, as his four friends admitted, seemed to be even better now than when they'd first met her so many years ago.
"I'll admit to being wrong." Mavramorn held up his goblet. "To the amusing lady who bested Bern - Her Grace, the Duchess of the Lone Islands."
"Her Grace!" The other lords toasted.
"May she maintain her sensible control over Bernie," Argoz teased.
"Hear, hear!" the other three chorused in laughter as Bern just grinned at their ribbing.
"Hilarious, Argoz," he intoned in a deadpan voice.
"Not as much as you and your wife, Bern." Argoz downed his drink.
"Since we speak of wives." Bern sipped his wine, then set down his goblet. "What of the king's?"
"She's wonderful," Rhoop said immediately, using colloquial terminology and speaking more forcefully than Bern had expected, as he glared at the other three lords.
"Am I to understand that there is some disagreement over the 'wonderful-ness' of the lady?" Bern asked with amusement.
"The depth of the king's attachment to her concerns us."
"Is she an unworthy object of his affection?"
"No. She is a true, gracious lady," admitted Mavramorn. "I like her herself quite a bit, even if we have had some reservations about the marriage. But it is unseemly on the part of the king, a man, to show so much affection."
"Does she not return it?"
"No, she does. I would say her affection for him is as great as his for her."
"Is she flighty and airheaded?"
"Her? Ha." Mavramorn shook his head. "Hardly."
"Is she mercenary?"
"No."
"She is not...an imbecile?" Bern pressed.
"No."
"Then what is the problem?" Bern was genuinely puzzled.
Lord Revilian nudged Argoz next to him, laughing. "Of course Bern would not agree with us. Or Rhoop, the great warrior romantic."
The men chuckled, and Rhoop rolled his eyes at his teasing friends.
"Then good night, man, what is the problem?" Bern repeated. "She is close to His Majesty's age, she is beautiful, and she seems intelligent enough, if not a little innocent." He crossed his leg over his knee. "What are her connections?"
At this, three of the lords looked at each other, and Bern looked among them, then to Rhoop. "Connections?" Bern repeated.
"She has none," Argoz sighed. "She's the daughter of a star."
"What?"
"'Don't say "what", say "pardon"'," Revilian imitated in a high-pitched, scolding voice, and the five men burst into laughter. "'The p-sounds are good for the lips. Papa, prunes and prisms.'"
"Do you remember that ridiculous schoolmaster?" Bern laughed. "How angry he was when the seven of us were in school with His Royal Highness, and he decided to spit with every "p" pronunciation just to irritate him." The men laughed, but the memory was tinged with sadness, the reminder of the ignominous death of their childhood friend, Prince Caspian - later King Caspian IX.
"Yes, well. We were discussing Caspian the Tenth and his choice of bride."
"We told you how far we sailed." Bern nodded at Argoz. "That was her father's island. It is the beginning of the end of the world. There is no more land from there, they say - not until the end of the world."
Bern stared. "That's where he got her?"
"What is your impression of the lady?" Bern asked the next night. He sat on their bed, folding his hands over his lap, as he waited for his wife to finish her toilette. As she brushed out her long, deep red hair, Bern smiled unconsciously. It was still as flaming in color as it had been when they had first met.
"I like her."
Bern tilted his head to one side as he studied his wife's reflection in her mirror. The family had spent the next day with the crew, and his wife had happily rushed the king's new wife into the female quarters to talk about whatever it was that girls talked about when they were together. Bern was burning with curiosity now, given the king's puppy-dog look and the lords' reservations.
Even more than that - he had learned today that they had held a coronation for the king's bride right on the deck of the Dawn Treader, just a week after the marriage and just before setting sail to return home. It all seemed rather rushed to him, making the girl both wife and queen a fait accompli before they even reached Narnia. It worried him.
Hence, his question to his wife.
"Her Majesty is...deceptively..." his wife did not finish, pursing her lips as she climbed into their bed.
"Deceptive!" Bern frowned at her. "She has tricked the king into marrying her?"
"No, no, no. That is not what I meant." His wife sighed. "She - she looks so very young, you know. So innocent. But she has the wisdom borne from years and years of experience. In affairs of the heart, she is a youth, as is the king, but she displays a particular wisdom."
"How do you mean?"
"Tonight." Bern nodded. "She listened very attentively to all the chatter the ladies made when we separated. She said nothing the entire time; she simply nodded, offered a light comment when required. But when asked her opinion on a certain matter, she gave such an informed, well-thought one so as to astonish us all. And, if you ask my opinion, it quite neatly silenced Lady Anselal and those ill-formed ideas she insists on presenting."
Bern laughed. He knew the pompous woman to whom his wife referred. Her husband was just as much of an unengaging, supercilious windbag.
"When is this ball you plan to give in honor of the king?" His wife flipped her red, curly tresses over her shoulder.
"Three days."
"Good. I will need that amount of time," she said decisively. "This is Her Majesty's presentation to the social world, and I intend to show everyone what a true lady is."
Bern sighed. What had attracted him to his wife so many years ago was her self-resolve, her confidence, and her loyalty. Some days, however, it was a little much. "You may wish to consult the king first," he warned, "before you make his wife over like that."
She pouted. "Fine. I will do so, but he will hardly object if he knows what is best for the both of them."
His wife appeared at the doorway, catching his eye. She smiled and nodded, surveying the room, and then took a step back to speak with the gentleman announcing each entrant at the doorway. As was proper social etiquette, the duchess soon disappeared to make way for the queen.
"Her Majesty, the Queen of Narnia, Empress of the Lone Islands, and Lady of Cair Paravel," came the announcement.
His wife had outdone herself. The queen stood in the doorway in pale, satin blue slippers. Her dress was a beautiful blue, the silky gossamer making her seem ethereal. The cut was a mix of the unusual style the queen had worn when she first came and that of the style more normal to the Lone Islands. Her golden hair had been done up simply, the length carefully tucked up in a simple chignon. Woven throughout were pearls, strung together by a thin silver chain. Unlike some of the other ladies, she wore very little if no cream and paint on her face, making her seem even more unusual. There was no crown, no tiara, nothing; simply the delicate silver line with pearls in her hair, and a matching silver thread around her neck with a larger pearl at the end.
He wasn't sure if she was shining, literally - he couldn't tell if it was the hairstyle and the lighting and the dress or if he had been prejudiced into thinking she herself would glow, since she was the daughter of a star.
Bern was satisfied to hear the surprised gasps from those who had not yet seen the newest member of the Narnian royal family and had only heard the rumors. The snide whispers of some of the local women seemed to die, no doubt a mix of the queen's presentation as well as the power behind her - the clear approval of the duchess of of the Lone Islands. He could see the Lord Drinian's grin from across the ballroom; it was crucial that the presentation go well, and it seemed that this one had. The satisfaction on his friends' faces likewise demonstrated the success of this social presentation. The queen's power, ironically, would go far for protecting her husband's throne.
The king stared as though struck dumb, as if he had never seen his wife before. He offered her his arm in silence, and then lowered his head so that his wife could whisper in his ear. Whatever it was changed his expression immediately; the stunned look changed into the familiar, firm but kind expression Bern had come to recognize. As the king straightened, laughing at whatever it was his wife had said, Bern could see the his face looking down at her, his eyes aglow.
The king obviously opened the dancing with a set with his bride, and it was clear that the queen had been through a rigorous amount of dancing lessons - but would require more still. His wife had discreetly chosen easier dances for the night, so as not to embarrass the still-green bride with a piece which she could not do. It would not do for the Queen of Narnia to look a fool on the dance floor, but that's exactly what would happen with a more difficult dance. She had much to learn yet.
After a set, the king led her off the floor to greet those who came to congratulate them. They sat out multiple dances, which was just as well, given the queen's lack of lessons.
Bern fidgeted a little, trying to attend to his very chatty guest's constant stream of talk, but he could not keep his eyes off the royal pair. That the king adored her was obvious; that she returned his affection less so. She seemed so quiet. She had not married the king for less than affection, had she?
She suddenly turned her head to look at her husband, and Bern saw all he needed to see.
Her Majesty was looking at the king, who was laughing over something a Lone Islands nobleman had said. Her face was calm, placid, but smiling, but it was her eyes that struck the elderly former Telmarine. They laughed along with the joke, but when they turned to look at the king, they shone with a particular joy that Bern was unable to quantify.
He had spent the last weeks since meeting Caspian the Tenth bemoaning the poor boy's luck: losing his father, losing his mother, living under Miraz, nearly murdered by Miraz. It seemed that this Aslan Caspian insisted was real had begun making up to the boy what family he had lost.
Bern moved to join his wife, who had appeared at the doorway with his own two daughters (women he considered more beautiful than the queen, but of course he was biased). When he reached her, he smiled. "Quite the success, my lady."
"Why thank you, my lord." She gave him a playful smile and a little curtsy, and Bern laughed. He offered her his arm and led her into the large ballroom. "I tell you," his wife continued, "that girl will be the making of His Majesty the king. And mark my words, the fashion she wears will cross Narnia and Archenland soon enough, even if she is not trying for it to do so."
"I noticed that you managed to dress your daughters after the queen's style."
She smiled cheekily. "Well. I would have helped the queen no matter what, but I wouldn't deprive my own daughters of the opportunity to be fashion-setters."
Bern laughed, and started to escort his wife to their table when he felt his wife's hand tighten on his arm. He turned to look at her, and then followed her line of sight.
They stood together at each other's side, looking at something Bern could not make out, their heads leaning close together. He could see the queen's lips moving, but Bern could not make out what she was saying. He saw the king grin, turning his face to his bride, who smiled back at him, her eyes shining.
"Mark my words." The duchess smiled. "She will be the making of him."
All in all, Bern thought, as the guests began to depart in the wee hours of the morning, the entire thing had turned out brilliantly. The monumentous task of introducing the new queen into society had gone well - better than Bern had expected. The dancing, the dinner - everything had gone smoothly. As the guests now began to dissipate, the duke looked for his king.
He was standing at the side of the ballroom, for the first time tonight looking distinctly unhappy - more like stricken and horrified and guilty. "Your Majesty?" The king did not respond. "Sire," Bern spoke again. "You look unwell."
"I've made a horrible mistake." Bern looked at his king, who was staring past him, past the open doors, to the outside porch. Bern turned to see the queen standing on the porch, her head tilted up towards the night sky. "How could I have done this? How could I have - "
Bern's voice was sharp. "Do what?"
"I just - when I married her." Bern was suddenly struck by how young his king was. He had forgotten, in some ways, that this was his old friend's son, and not his friend himself. The king's youth reasserted itself before the older man. "How could I have married her?"
Bern frowned, then looked at the woman. "Do you not care for your wife?" It was a little late now for regrets!
"What?" Caspian turned on him so fast, his face turning into something not unlike what his sailors had correctly termed his "Miraz" face. "What are you suggesting?" he asked sharply.
"Your Majesty, I am by no means questioning your judgment. You seemed upset."
Caspian relaxed, then shook his head in dismay. "I have wronged her."
"Do you not care for your queen, Sire?" Bern repeated.
"Not that! Yes! I mean, of course I feel the deepest affection for her." Caspian waved his hand impatiently. "I just - " he turned back to look out the door. "She lived on the edge of the world," he said softly. "She lived right next to Aslan's country. Her father was a star. I took her from that - I took her, like some child takes a toy he wants."
"I must - "
"I have done exactly what my uncle would have - just taken whatever struck my fancy, as though it should satisfy what I want!" He flinched. "She will be unhappy her whole life, so far from Aslan's country and all she has known and her own father - I took her from her father, Bern! - all because I wanted her with me, like a selfish child who - "
"If I may."
Caspian stopped, remembering his manners. "My apologies. Please."
"I see nothing of this unhappiness you speak of." When the young man started to protest, Bern held up a hand to stop him. "I will certainly not repeat the ridiculous rumors you have no doubt heard: that you rescued her from some poor, run-down, deserted rural island. I have heard what my friends have said, and her home sounds as beautiful as every person has described it. She may well have lived her life in perfect happiness there."
The man smiled gently at the young man. "But she chose you - because she wants to be at your side. No one who sees you and her could believe otherwise."
The king turned to look back out at her, where she stood alone, leaning against a large marble pillar, her fingers placing on the cool marble, her face tilted up towards the sky. The boy still looked doubtful.
Bern just chuckled. "If you have doubts, Sire, you should speak with the queen, not seek advice from your father's elderly friend."
At that, Caspian smiled, a small chuckle escaping, but he still seemed upset.
"Go and speak with her," Bern urged again.
"Is this advice from my father's elderly friend?" Caspian asked, his voice full of mirth, as he headed out to the porch.
"Cheeky boy," Bern muttered. He watched as the king stepped outside to join his bride. The young woman started at the unexpected presence, then relaxed when she saw him. In the face she turned to her husband with that smile, Bern laid to rest any doubts he might have had. "She will be the making of him," he murmured.