A/N I'm resurrecting my previously lifeless livejournal account. While writing this fic I will be posting there as well, such things as progress on the newest chapter, little snippets of the next chapter, and so on. I can answer any comments or questions people have if they feel like saying something. My homepage link will take you there, if anyone wants. If not, then here we go.
The Lost Chronicles of Narnia: The Beast of Witherby
Chapter Ten
It was a very long way down.
That was the thought that kept repeating itself in Lucy Pevensie's head as she leaned a bit too far over the battlements, staring at the incredible drop off all around the castle. It was beyond her how they had even built this place without the help of flying Beasts. She wondered how many unfortunate people had slipped and fell during construction, then decided that she didn't want to think about such things. Because really... it was a very long way down.
"Your Majesty should be careful." A deep masculine voice spoke directly behind her, startling Lucy and making her yelp. She pitched forward just a touch, not enough to be in danger, but enough to think that the possibility could exist should she decide to pitch forward even more. Thankfully a chain mailed hand gripped her none too lightly, and she was jerked backwards away from the edge. A very stern General Tenneth glared down at her, much as one does to a child who has been misbehaving. Lucy, being a Queen along with being a child, immediately felt embarrassed along with feeling guilty. (Adults are like that, when they know they've been especially foolish.)
"Well, I was alright until I was startled," Lucy felt she had to say, even as she gave the tall pepper haired Telmarine an apologetic smile.
"The battlements are not for play, your Majesty," Tenneth said, his voice a bit of a growl.
"But I wasn't playing," Lucy informed him. "Everyone else comes up here to do their thinking. I just thought I'd see why."
"And have you seen why?" the general raised an eyebrow. Lucy flushed, wondering if he was deliberately trying to make her feel like a silly girl. He was usually nicer than this.
"I never got around to paying attention," she admitted. "I got distracted. It is quite scary, you know. The drop, that is. Has anyone ever fallen?"
The general was quiet for a moment, and then gave her a quirky look.
"There is a long standing history of important nobles finding these battlements… slippery," he told her in a flat voice.
"Well, that's silly. You'd have to be walking along the tops to slip…" Lucy trailed off as understanding dawned, her eyes slowly widening. "Oh. Oh! How awful! Has that happened recently?"
Once more Lord Tenneth fixed her with that same odd look. "Not too recently, your Majesty."
"That's good. I'd hate to think that there are people out there that would do such things."
"Your Majesty would be surprised."
Lucy sighed and then hugged the general's arm tightly. "You know, I really do hate to think about things like that. In the Old times, they didn't happen. Or if they did, it was because of an especially terrible creature started making trouble. I've never seen such things done in the name of politics. Aslan would be so disappointed."
"Your Majesties are unused to political positioning?" Tenneth wondered. "The High King seems more capable than would be expected in that case. King Caspian is used to it, being a Telmarine, but High King Peter seems to see right through many of the Lords' plots."
"That's because he's Peter," Lucy said proudly. "And you forget. We were Kings and Queens for a long time before now. Peter looks young, but in him is a lifetime of experiences. They say that he was the best King Narnia ever had. What are you doing up here, anyway?"
Tenneth blinked at the sudden shift in topic. "I have found my current duties diminished," the general muttered, sounding less than pleased. "I had a free moment before drills."
"You don't guard Su anymore, do you?" Lucy noticed a brief angry look which he failed to cover. "You don't like that Caspian ordered you not to?"
"Your Majesty, may I escort you down to the grounds?"
"That was a subject change."
"Yes, your Majesty."
Lucy gave him a sympathetic look and she patted his muscled arm. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault, my lord. Maybe when this has blown over, I can talk to them for you."
"Come, Queen Lucy," Lord Tenneth said firmly, leading her towards the stairs. "The battlements are no place for royalty these days."
She came along willing, hearing only the usual seriousness in his voice, and still glancing back at the drop off. Therefore Lucy completely missed the tiny look of triumph in the general's eyes.
"May I speak with you, High King Peter?"
The High King had just finished a long and mildly frustrating discussion with the Duke of Galma when the Telmarine King knocked and stepped into his study. By the slightly nervous look in Caspian's eyes and the overly formal use of his title, Peter had a pretty good idea what this was about. He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his blonde hair, pushing it back from his eyes. How long had it been since he had been regularly approached over his sisters? How many times had it happened? And yet it always felt strange, being treated as their guardian. It should have been Peter's father being asked and it never would be.
"Of course, Caspian. Sit down. How are you feeling?" Peter asked as Caspian walked up to his desk and chose to remain standing. The Telmarine King looked better, although everyone was watching him closely. Since they still hadn't figured out how the amphet was being administered to him, it was still possible for him to be slipped some more. Considering the strain on his heart the last time, it was a possibility that needed to be avoided at all costs.
"I am feeling much better," Caspian said, flushing a bit. He was still incredibly humiliated by the experience, although everyone treated it as if it was nothing. "Some residual shakiness is all."
"Cornelius said that might be the case," Peter acknowledged, and then he fell silent. Caspian shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. Peter raised an eyebrow, pushing aside his internal amusement. As pompous or arrogant or modest they might be, in the end, they always looked exactly the same. And it would start the same way, with roundabout small talk, compliments to himself, and eventually they would work up the nerve to ask. But fortunately for Caspian, unlike all but one other, he decided to go straight to the point.
"I have come to ask your permission to court your royal sister, the Queen Susan." Caspian spurted out, then he flushed. "My High King," he added respectfully. Peter continued to sit back, watching him. Caspian stood beneath his gaze, growing even more uncomfortable. Seeing that Caspian had said all he was going to say, Peter nodded, as if considering it.
"Does Su know you are asking?"
Caspian nodded, a touch too eagerly. "Aye. In fact, she requested I speak to you."
Peter's eyebrow rose pointedly. "I assume then that there was need for a more formal arrangement?"
If Caspian had been unsettled before, the realization of what Peter was implying made the young king go crimson as he sputtered a reply.
"I… there has been no need… I would never…" Halfway through his denial, Caspian seemed to slump, his voice raw and honest. "I love her, Peter. I have attempted to contain that as long as I could, but if her feelings are at all similar to mine, then I would be a fool not to try for her hand. Having received her blessing, I beg you for yours."
Peter pursed his lips, and then he stood up, walking away from his desk. Behind them was a tall stained glass window, where one could see down into a courtyard. Peter watched as the palace gardeners worked at trimming the shrubs, his littlest sister Lucy moving amongst them offering smiles and words of encouragement.
"Do you know how many have asked me the same thing that you are asking?" Peter finally said, his arms crossed and his back to his friend.
"If the books are accurate, then more than for any other queen in Narnian history," Caspian acknowledged.
"Suitors came and went," Peter spoke as if remembering far ago, which he was. "But only the most determined asked permission to court her. Kings, princes, and diplomats… plus one very determined giant." Caspian blinked at that, not sure what to say.
"It is a much more formal affair, courting, considering that it allowed further access to the queen then simply being in her attendance." Peter still didn't turn around, but he didn't have to, to know that wasn't something Caspian wanted to hear. True, the Telmarine king had taken some liberties with the Queen, but it filled him with indignation that any other man might seek the same thing. Peter continued on.
"They never asked Su, you know?" He shook his head. "They just threw gifts and flowers and perfume at her feet and marched in here, assuming that was all it took. That rank hath privilege, and one of those privileges was her. In my time of being High King in Narnia, I was asked this question forty three times."
Caspian's mouth opened then closed.
"Do you know how many times I said yes?" Peter turned around and gave Caspian an almost sad look. "Only once."
Caspian stood silently for a long time, looking to the side and thinking that over. Finally he raised his eyes to meet Peter's gaze. "What was the difference for that one?"
"Are you sure you want to know?" The High King asked softly. Caspian steeled himself and nodded, wondering if this was where he would be found wanting.
"Yes."
"It was because Su loved him back. And that is the only reason."
There was not much to say to that, and it was pointless for Caspian to be jealous of a man dead and gone for thirteen hundred years. Not that he liked it…
"I do not understand," Caspian said after a time. "If it was so, then why did the Queen never marry? Why did she never officially choose her suitor?"
"That's not my story to tell," Peter said, a bit gruffly. "But when it was all over, she never loved another. And I never said yes again."
"Then I am asking needlessly," Caspian couldn't keep the frustration out of his voice, or the glimmer of doubt in his heart. "You will not give your blessing."
"I didn't say that, Caspian."
"You did not say otherwise, either."
"True."
"You are playing games, and I do not appreciate it," Caspian said quietly, drawing himself up. "I came here simply, so I request a simple answer. Do I have your permission?"
"You are my friend," Peter said frankly. "But that doesn't necessarily make you good enough. You are my comrade, and I would trust you with my life. But when it comes to Su? My sister? You have only known her a few months, Caspian. You say you love her, but why? Because she is pretty? There are other pretty girls. No, I think it is because you have come to depend upon her. I think that as much as you say you love her, I think that you need her."
"Need, Peter? If you are implying desire…"
"No!" Peter rounded on him, looking almost angry. "No, Caspian, I'm implying much more than that! You are King but you act most days as if you don't want it. You can be completely swayed in your decisions simply by her approval or disapproval. You need her advice and her support, and if you don't have it you walk around like a wounded puppy. You are completely distracted by her, when you should be focused on the mess that is Narnia. You were poisoned, Caspian! You almost died, and the attempt was aimed at getting your country, my country, into a war with Galma. But you do not care, all you can think about is Susan! This is not a time of peace, and it is not a time of fancy, so if the reason you want the queen is because you need her these ways, then I'm not sure you are the right one for her in the first place."
Peter sucked in a tight breath, his chest heaving from his emotions. "I will not agree just to have your love for her fade as the problems of your monarchy do. I will not do that to her."
Caspian's jaw was clenched, and it was obvious he was fighting back his angry retort.
"Is it that you think I lack as a monarch or that I lack as a suitor, or both?" Caspian managed to get out, finding himself so furious that he was shaking.
"I think that you have not become the king you could be, nor the king you should be," Peter said flatly. "And your preoccupation with my sister is part of the reason why."
"I had not realized your opinion of me was so low, that you doubted me so much." It was obvious through his anger that Caspian was quite hurt. Peter walked around his desk, standing in front of his friend.
"It is not you that I doubt, Caspian. But your actions so far have centered around placating the council and Susan, and that is not good enough. You are the King of Narnia, but when is the last time you turned to your Narnian subjects for anything? You focus only on what is in front of you, but you cannot rule that way. You have to look at everything, beyond what you fear and what you love the most."
Caspian said nothing, but his face was drawn from the accusations. Peter sighed and shook his head.
"You are my friend, Caspian, and I don't say these things to hurt you." Peter meant it, he hated the wedge this was driving between them, but as High King it had to be done. "But if you want Susan, if you want Narnia, you have to open your eyes. I didn't fight Miraz because you deserved your throne. I fought Miraz because my people deserve a country and a king that takes care of them. They must be your first priority, over anything else. Do you see?"
"Aye," Caspian grunted. Then he stiffly drew himself up. "Are we through?"
"Yes, we're done," Peter nodded, his eyes sad as he watched Caspian turn and stride angrily for the door. Just as he reached it, Peter called out. "And Caspian..."
The Telmarine king paused at the open door.
"The answer is yes. Don't make me regret it." The door to Peter's study shut without a word from the other man. Groaning, Peter sat back down, rubbing his temples, whispering to himself. "Don't make me take this all away from you, my friend."
Then, being the High King before anything else, he went back to work.
Edmund's feet hurt.
It wasn't something that he couldn't deal with, but it was something that he wished he didn't have to deal with. It wasn't his feet's fault that they hurt. Their owner had insisted on using them overmuch in the last few days, and being feet it wasn't as if they could tell him no. But the dull ache that spread from toe to heel was their token protest, and there was nothing that Edmund could do about that. His horse had been set free, because it was unkind to force it to hobble along. The other horse was carrying a double amount of their supplies, so it was similarly unkind to make it carry himself, the Dwarf, and the Mouse (Edmund had never considered asking the Wolf if he wished to ride, because the King was not silly and liked his hide in one piece.). So they all walked.
Up ahead the twin mountains loomed larger and larger with each step they took. The closer they got the more Edmund seemed to pull inside himself. Both Trumpkin and Reepicheep understood why, although not nearly on the level as the Narnians of thirteen hundred years ago would have. In a lifetime of King of Narnia, Edmund could count on one hand how many times he had ventured this close to the remains of the White Witch's castle. In those days, no one went there if they didn't have to, and in those days there were no reasons to. Aslan had defeated the White Witch, and that was that. A redeemed traitor has no desire to see the depths to which he once fell, and Edmund was no different.
There was a point in time where the Wolf suddenly appeared ahead of them. He sat down in the middle of the trail and waited for them to approach.
"Hallo Maugrim," Edmund said with forced brightness. "Nice of you to show." Even he hadn't seen the Wolf in nearly a day, not even a glimpse.
"It is time that I left you, pup king," Maugrim said bluntly. Reepicheep snorted.
"Ha! As if you have been around so far, sir," the Mouse declared. He had been quite offended by the Wolf's refusal to keep their company, as any true companion should do. Maugrim ignored him, focusing on Edmund.
"Why is that?" Ed asked.
"Because we draw near to the Town. I will not travel through this place with you, for it is unlikely that you will make it to the other side."
"That's good of you," Trumpkin muttered, not surprised. The Wolf rose, unconcerned.
"I agreed to help track the Bad thing, and nothing more. If you cannot survive the Town, then it is not my duty to die alongside you. Should you make it through, I will meet you on the other side. The Bad thing goes through the Town and into the castle of She Who We Once Followed."
"Can't even say her name, can you ruffian?" Reepicheep admonished, even as Edmund shushed him.
"A Title is the greatest thing a Creature can have," Maugrim said shortly. "But not all that have them deserve them." Reepicheep opened his mouth to counter, but Edmund interceded.
"Hold on," he said, holding up his hand. "What town is it that you are talking about? There's no town in these parts."
"The Town lies perpetually in the shadow of Her castle," Maugrim explained, looking vaguely annoyed at having to do so. "Did you believe that the world would not change in your absence, pup king? We will meet again, should you survive. A Wolf always keeps his word." With that he turned and left, not once looking back.
"Well, that was brief and to the point," Edmund stated ruefully, watching their guide once more disappear. "He didn't even tell us the best path to go, like before."
"We don't need him to," Trumpkin said in his gruff voice, his eyes on the mountains that hovered above them, shadows darkening them malevolently even though the sun was still high in the sky.
"It is unfortunate that we have yet to meet a Giant," Reepicheep sighed forlornly as they continued on. "Ah well, I shall just have to find satisfaction with the Beast."
"He is serious, isn't he?" Edmund muttered to Trumpkin. As before, the Dwarf knew better than to say anything.
"You are angry."
Caspian hadn't realized that Susan was there until she appeared at his shoulder. His focus was across the lawn, watching General Tenneth as he ran through a drill with his officers.
"It is that obvious?" Caspian said sarcastically. In truth, he had been in such a foul mood that day that everyone was stepping lightly around him. But his tone was too harsh and at the slightly hurt silence that followed, Caspian sighed.
"I am sorry. I was told some things today that I did not like hearing."
"Peter?" she guessed intuitively.
"Yes."
"I take it you spoke with him," Susan gave Caspian a rueful smile. "Perhaps I should have warned you that no one ever gets his permission. I will speak with him myself."
"Nay, my queen. The High King gave his blessing… albeit reluctantly." Caspian finally looked over at her. Susan seemed surprised.
"Then why are you upset?" she wondered. Caspian just shook his head, not ready to speak about it. Instead he changed the subject.
"Why did you never choose a suitor?" he asked suddenly, dark eyes drilling into her. "All those years, and you never chose one to marry."
"Did Peter say that too?" Susan asked quietly.
"Peter said many things," Caspian couldn't keep the bitterness from his tone. Susan opened her mouth, but then closed it, thinking about her reply. Before she had a chance to say anything, her lady in waiting Mari hesitantly approached.
"My lady?" Mari asked uncertainly, curtseying deeply to both monarchs. "I was told to find you when it was time for the fittings."
"Yes, Mari," Susan looked relieved at the distraction. "I will be right there." The Telmarine woman curtseyed again and quickly backed away, glancing nervously at Caspian as she did.
"She acts scared of me," Caspian said wryly to Susan as the young woman hurried out of earshot.
"Mari is overly gentle," Susan told him with a shrug. Then she smiled and leaned over, giving him a tiny kiss on the cheek, much to his surprised pleasure. They were in public after all. "Please don't be unhappy, Caspian. We will talk later."
Caspian watched her pick up her skirts and sweep away, joining the other woman as if they were old friends and completely unconcerned with the Centaur and Mouse guard that surrounded her. As he turned back to the drills, Caspian found that it was hard to be quite as angry as before.
"Your timing is impeccable," Susan murmured to Mari as the two of them made their way from the still watching King.
"My lady?" Mari seemed confused. "But I interrupted you with his Majesty."
"Even cute boys need to be interrupted sometimes," Susan said with a tiny smile. Mari giggled before remembering herself.
"You know, you don't need to be afraid of Caspian," Susan continued as they turned down a hall. "He might be the King, but he's not like the ones before him. True Kings and Queens of Narnia are not dictators like Miraz was. We are here to care for and protect the people, and to help guide them. We make the tough decisions so they don't have to. As a Narnian, by tradition, you have the right to speak your mind to even the High King."
"Oh, I could never do that, your Majesty," Mari looked shocked at the very thought.
"I would rather you offend then never know what you really thought about things," Susan countered. "One can't rule a kingdom by assuming they know what their people want and need. What we can't see we have to be told."
Mari was silent for a long moment, but then she looked over at Susan. She still looked worried but there was a touch of hope in her eyes.
"If it would truly not offend…"
"If it does, then there are worse things," Susan teased her with a tiny grin. Mari flushed prettily.
"Then if I would not be considered too bold to say it, there are some people your Majesty might wish to speak to. Or who would like to speak to you, if they may."
Susan raised an eyebrow. "Are these Telmarine Narnians?"
"Yes, my lady. If it pleases you."
"Then why don't you bring them to the castle this afternoon," Susan said with a smile as they reached the great staircase. "In the meantime, have you seen Mrs. Badger? She was supposed to be meeting us, and she takes these things so seriously..."
They continued to talk as they descended, oblivious to the eyes that watched their every move.
The thing about castles built on sheer cliffs, there is usually only one source of water in, and one source of water out.
That's not a very good idea.
The Warthog looked quite sad when Lucy happened upon it outside the Great Council room. The Council was in session, and four Telmarine guards stood at the door, blocking entrance. The Warthog must have been there for a while, because it had sat down on its grey bristled haunches and was staring forlornly at the door. But when it saw Lucy, it jumped immediately to its hooves, run over to her, and gave its best bow (Which was not very good at all, but a Warthog is not made for such things and should be commended for even trying.).
"Hallo," Lucy said brightly, giving it a bit of a bobbed curtsey in reply. Realizing it was a young Boar, she added, "How are you today, sir?"
"My Queen!" The Boar looked extremely relieved. In fact, he was so relieved that he was snuffling around his words, although Lucy was much too polite to giggle about it. "My Queen, I have very important information that I need to tell King Caspian immediately, but they won't let me in." He added a pointed snort, very wet with derision, although the guards ignored it.
"Well, why would you do that?" Lucy asked of the Telmarines. "He has every right to speak to Caspian if he wants to."
Two of the guards glanced at each other in confusion. One decided to be the leader and spoke up.
"We were under orders not to let any distraction in, your Majesty," he said, shifting uncomfortably at her glare. He glanced at the Warthog, who was glaring. "Especially not any of… that kind of distraction."
"I don't know what you mean, sir," Lucy said, although she had an inkling. Deciding not to blame a man for only doing as he was told, she put her little hands on her hips and faced them authoritatively. "Who gave you such an order? Certainly not Caspian."
"No, my lady." The second guard spoke up, coming to the aid of the first. "It was the Lord Baerd that gave the order."
"From now on, you will ignore such silliness and allow any Narnian, Telmarine or Old, entrance to see the Kings or Queens. If we can't talk right then, we will tell you, but that's up to us. Now, let him through."
No one moved, except for the first guard who gulped. This was really not part of his job description, trying to decide who outranked who. Thankfully, Lucy cleared it up for him.
"As Queen of Narnia, I am ordering you to let us through. Please." Lucy couldn't help but be polite even when she was being bossy, since it was what her mother and Susan had spent so much time drilling into her. She smiled in satisfaction as they parted before her and her smug Boar, holding open the door as they went through. The Boar flicked his tail as he did, making sure the Telmarines noticed. If they did, they did not know what to make of it anymore than they did a talking Warthog.
Being that Caspian was sitting facing the door, he noticed immediately when Lucy walked in, the Warthog at her heels.
"Lu?" he seemed surprised, sitting up straighter. Lucy never came into council, unless requested. "Is everything alright?"
In the middle of the council room floor, Lord Baerd paused midsentence. He had been making a very important point, at least according to him, and the appearance of the youngest monarch completely botched his verbal momentum. As did the loud snuff of the Warthog behind her.
"One of your subjects has need of your attention, your Majesty," Lucy said with a smile, ignoring Baerd as she went to Caspian and impulsively gave him a tight hug. He returned it, a bit bemused. The Boar tried to bow again as Lu decided to sit with Caspian on his large throne. Plopping down next to him, Lucy wiggled until he scooted over to make room, shaking his head. She had such a way of ignoring convention, along with ignoring the shocked expressions of the rest of the room.
"Your Majesty…" the Boar started, only to be interrupted by an irate Lord Baerd.
"This is ridiculous!" Baerd declared. "We were in the middle of a very important discussion on Telmarine policy. This Animal has no place in the council room!"
"He has just as much right to be heard as you do, sir," Lucy said. "He should never have been kept waiting."
"This was a closed session," he retorted. "I ordered that no one be let in."
"Are you a Queen of Narnia, my Lord Baerd?" Lucy asked sweetly. Caspian coughed into his hand, hiding a smirk.
"What? No, of course not…"
"Well, until you become a Queen of Narnia, then I outrank you." She pursed her lips, and then looked up at Caspian. "I don't understand why everyone forgets this so often."
Caspian chuckled and put his arm around Lucy's shoulders. Baerd flushed but had the grace to stomp over to his seat.
"It is because we are far less wise than you, my dear Queen Lucy," he told her with a smile. She just hmph'ed as if that was very true.
"Surely your Majesty does not agree with this nonsense," Lord Scythley asked in a derisive manner. "Or do little children, along with women, make the King's decisions for him?"
It should be said that if given such an insult alone, Caspian would have probably ignored it, no matter how much it irritated him. After all, putting up with these lords and their double sided comments had become a daily routine (one he much hated, if someone asked), and they were easier to deal with if he remained cool and collected. However he wasn't alone, and Lu's shoulders stiffened at the insult to him, which Caspian mistook as her own feelings being hurt.
"General Tenneth," Caspian said suddenly, not changing his position as he stared at Scythley with narrowed eyes.
"My King?" from the corner Tenneth stepped forward.
"I want you to go to the kennels and find a muzzle for Lord Scythley." Caspian said this while never breaking eye contact with the lord. "His yapping is growing tiresome."
"You cannot be serious!" Scythley was on his feet, yelling in outrage, but Caspian never even flinched.
"The lord can stay in council this day only if he is muzzled, or else he needs to be removed, General. Thank you."
Tenneth's face split into a rare grin as he headed for the door, ostensibly to do as Caspian commanded. Scythley started to sputter something but Caspian cut him off.
"Before you speak, pick your words wisely," he suggested softly, letting his gaze move pointedly over all the assembled nobles. "For though the rage caused by my poisoning has diminished, it has not disappeared completely. I cannot be held accountable for what I might choose to do on a whim, especially if I feel like the queen's person has been insulted."
"Is that true?" Lucy whispered almost inaudibly to him in concern. But Caspian only winked at her, which made her feel better. The nobles however missed the exchange and shifted uncomfortably. As Tenneth continued to the door, smirking maliciously, Lord Scythley decided to storm out of the council room on his own accord. Lucy privately thought that it was because he didn't know if Caspian was serious about the muzzle or not. The general certainly was. Perhaps Caspian was starting to get control of these men? If he was, it was about time.
"Your Majesty," Lord Donnon decided to try and smooth things over, his voice silky as he spoke. "I am sure no direct insult was intended by Lord Scythley. Considering the slew of recent events, it has been a trying time for us all."
"Indeed," Caspian said drolly. "Considering the failure of the plot to discredit the monarchy and establish war between Galma and myself, I am sure the council is quite harried."
"Your Majesty could not possibly believe that any one of his loyal subjects in this room would have attempted to poison him," Donnon seemed shocked, to which Caspian actually laughed. Lucy decided that he was in an odd humor today, but a good one. If anything, beneath his irritation with the council, Caspian seemed happier than normal. This was nothing like that night when his oddness had been scary.
"Do not play coy, my lord," Caspian suggested lightly. "It does not suit you. I would like to remind the council that the King is not quite the love struck fool they have all taken him for. So if it is a change in leadership that is so greatly desired, those who desire it might have better luck with a more direct approach to the matter."
"We didn't work so hard to put Caspian on the throne just to have you all drag him back off," Lucy piped up, sounding much older than she was. "I certainly don't think Peter would like it. Now, we have to speak with someone, and since everyone is just bickering with each other, I think that the good Boar has waited long enough."
This whole time, the Warthog had been listening and watching the activities of the humans. If anyone was to look at a Warthog, they would probably assume they were uncouth and roughened Beasts. However, out of the whole of Narnian Creatures, they were some of the sweetest and gentlest. Therefore the air of malice in the council room had made the poor Boar quite uncomfortable, and he had been cowering in the center of the floor until Lucy spoke up. He stared up at her with tiny grateful eyes.
"A chi—a queen cannot dismiss the council!" Baerd spoke up, but Caspian just smirked, his arm still around Lucy's shoulders.
"I think she already did, my lord. And I agree, these daily talks are getting us nowhere and they take up too much of my time. This council is concluded. I apologize, sir Boar, that you had to wait." At his words, Caspian bowed his head a touch in respect. The action was not lost upon the council, to whom the King gave no such tendencies. Muttering and angry, but unable to do anything else, they filtered out of the room. Tenneth looked a bit disappointed as he slipped back inside and took his normal position.
Caspian sighed as they were left alone, and shook his head. He wrapped his second arm around Lucy and gave her a bear hug.
"Lu, why do you insist on placing yourself against those men?" he asked her with brotherly concern. Only unlike her real brothers, he didn't tell her not to do the things that concerned him. "They are not all good, and it is not good for you."
"You have to put up with them," Lucy said stubbornly, burrowing into his chest. "And since we are family, I have to as well." Then she giggled.
"What?" he asked her, raising an eyebrow at her knowing expression.
"When you're my real brother, you can make it up to me by teasing Edmund. He deserves it." Obviously she knew that Caspian was officially courting Su. He laughed, not knowing why he should be surprised.
"How is it that you know everything that happens around here?" Caspian asked her as the little queen squeezed out from under his arm.
"Because I listen." Lucy glanced at the still patiently waiting Warthog. "Perhaps you should too."
And with that Lucy bobbed out of the council room, leaving Caspian alone with the Boar. Caspian watched her go with a fond smile on his face, then he turned to the Narnian.
"How may I be of service?" he asked of the Warthog. The Boar shifted nervously, still a bit uncomfortable being left alone with the King. Caspian picked up on it and he stood up, stepping down from his throne and seating himself on the top step of the dais. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
"I am sorry they would not let you in," Caspian apologized. "I will speak with the guards about it."
"Your Majesty," the Boar snuffled a few times around the words. "We have been trying to see you for several days now, ever since the tournament."
Caspian tipped his head sideways, confused. "I was not told of this, not even after I had recovered."
"We are starting to feel as if the Telmarines are trying to keep us from our King, sire." The Warthog dipped his head, as if he had said something that would make Caspian angry. In fact it did, but not in the way he thought.
"The Telmarines in general, or specific ones?" Caspian questioned. At the Boar's reluctance, he added, "You need not fear. If it is true, I will protect your identity."
The Boar snorted. "I'm not scared of any Telmarines, sire. But I do worry about some of the others. The Bunnies, especially, have not been treated well. They get bullied mercilessly by the kitchen staff, and even are threatened by the head cook, if you know what I mean. Horrible!"
"That is… that is truly awful," Caspian managed to say, because really, it was. "I had known that there were still problems between the two, but I would never have thought my countrymen capable of insinuating such things!"
"Insinuating?" The Boar snuffed and wheezed in his indignation. "I don't know about that, but the way they make them hop about carrying trays every time something has to be delivered all the way up the towers, why it's unconscionable. And the head cook threatens to make it permanent." The Warthog didn't understand why the King suddenly looked so relieved, even to the point of exhaling loudly. Tenneth coughed. "And in answer of your question, it is the palace staff that seems to be placing themselves in our way, every time we want to speak with you."
"All of them or just the guards?"
"All of them, sire. Or at least select few that have the capability."
"Hmmmm. What is this news that you have wanted so badly to tell me?"
The Warthog looked about the room nervously, as if uncomfortable speaking before the general.
"It is alright friend," Caspian assured him. "You may safely speak up."
Still the Boar trotted forward a few steps so that he was almost in Caspian's lap. His tusks almost brushed the King's knee as he leaned in and whispered.
"We think we have found how you were poisoned, your Majesty."
"How?" Caspian demanded, sitting straighter. "Please tell me."
"I think that I had better show you," the Warthog decided.
"Show me? Why?" A chill went through the King as his subject continued in an almost silent breath.
"Because your Majesty needs to know, they tried to poison you again these last two afternoons."
Peter was reclining in the Queens' sitting room and enjoying a few minutes of relaxation with his sister, listening as she talked about the current progress at Aslan's How. Su hadn't brought up his conversation with Caspian this morning, but he was pretty sure by the slightly smug expression on her face that she knew of his approval. Had she known the rest of it, he would be getting an earful right now. Throughout their lives together, he was the one person Susan seemed to have no problem telling exactly what she thought of his behavior. Therefore he took full advantage of the times where she was pleased with him, especially where it concerned herself.
"Peter? What do you think?"
"Hmmm?" He pulled out of his thoughts and crossed his arms behind his head. "Oh. I think that you're right. Things are much quicker with the help of Wimbleweather, but it's too bad we have so few Giants. So many of the other Creatures have joined our side… I had hoped that we might be able to have a completely united Narnia."
Susan snorted, only half focusing on the bow in her lap that she was cleaning.
"Considering that Telmarine and Old Narnian relations are still so strained?" she shook her head. "The only thing that brought the darker Creatures together with the others was their common hatred of Telmarine rule. As it is, it seems like only the Minotaurs, Black Dwarves, and the ice Cats completely switched sides. There were only a handful of Wolves that fought at Beruna, and no other Giant but Wimbleweather."
"I suppose I should be grateful not to have led an army of Hags and Werewolves," Peter murmured. "I wouldn't fancy having that lot at my back. But it doesn't change the fact that they are Narnians too. You can't pick who you're King over."
Susan shuddered. "Well, I for one would be just fine not being Queen over the Bats and the Boggles."
"You never said anything about the Incubi, Su," Peter teased, causing his sister to blush and throw her cleaning rag at him.
"Oh shut up! Will I never live that down?" she asked plaintively. "Nothing even happened! And it's not like anyone warned me."
"Suuure." He grinned at her outraged expression, but then quickly returned to his more serious thoughts. "But anyway, I still wish that we would have made better progress in thirteen hundred years."
"It wasn't thirteen hundred years of peace, Peter. We should be grateful that any Narnians are even still alive after what the Telmarines did." Susan's face pursed into a frown. "I take that back. After what the Telmarine rulers did. It's not the commoners' fault."
"You say that as if you're forcing yourself to believe it," Peter commented blandly. "I take it you've heard what even the early peasants did if they caught a Narnian."
"Heard and trying to forget," Susan said softly. "I'm really trying to keep an open mind, but it's hard."
"I accused Caspian today of only paying attention to the Telmarine council," Peter told her quietly. "And with the exception of a few other things, it is true. But every time I find myself sitting in that council room surrounded by all those calculating, self important, indulgent hypocrites, it makes me want to grab up all the Narnians and head for the hills, figuratively. Or Cair Paravel, literally."
"Caspian loves all the Narnians, the Old and the New," Susan said stubbornly. "But that doesn't mean that he knows how to effectively deal with both. His whole life he has lived in this world, the one where only Telmarines existed and mattered. They demand much of him. Similarly the Old Narnians demand much of you, even when your focus should be on the Telmarines."
"Ugh!" Peter threw up his hands. "This used to be so much easier."
"Well, we were older then," Susan shrugged. "And wiser. I feel like half a person now, or maybe two. I get confused when I realize the Old Susan, the adult one, is still inside my head. And she doesn't always agree with the current one."
"They have names for folks with more than one person upstairs," Peter chuckled and Susan, in a rare moment of childishness, stuck her tongue out at him. Peter couldn't help laughing.
"Are you saying you don't feel the same way?" she asked curiously, not really minding that he was poking fun at her. The High King shrugged.
"Maybe. Only I'm not fighting with myself, I'm just wishing that all the stuff I used to know was accessible in here." He tapped his head pointedly. "It's floating around where I can't grab it."
"You're doing fine, Peter," Susan reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly. Then she looked serious. "Sometimes I wonder what would happen if you weren't here holding everything together."
"Then Caspian would have to figure it all out, and stop spending so much time ogling my sister." It came out a bit flatter than intended, and Susan smirked at him. She didn't have a chance to reply, because a soft knock on the door interrupted them. It was Mari. The lady in waiting curtseyed deeply to the High King, then Susan.
"Your Majesties," she murmured. "Should I come back later?"
"No, Lady Mari," Peter said with a touch of a flirtatious smile as he drug himself up to a sitting position. "Your arrival simply means that my old bones have to go back to work. I'm sure in the last hour that thirty things of dire consequence have bound to have gone wrong."
"Old, your Majesty?" Mari looked confused. "But the High King is nothing but youthful…"
Peter grinned and gave her a wink, leaving her even more confused and blushing furiously.
"Be nice, Peter," Susan admonished as he disappeared out the door, looking anything but remorseful. "Ignore him Mari, he can be a hopeless tease when he's in a good mood."
"The High King is pleased today?" Mari asked shyly, still unused to speaking so freely with her monarchs.
"He leaves for the How tomorrow for three days, so Peter's ecstatic. I however…" Susan groaned. Then she steeled herself. "Alright. I assume you have brought these men that I needed to speak with?"
"Aye, my lady."
"Send them in."
It was a few hours later that Lucy burst into the room, a letter clutched tightly in her little hand.
"Susan! I have good news!"
Lucy's sister was sitting quietly in front of their fireplace, staring off into the cold ashes. She hadn't even looked up when Lucy opened the door.
"Susan?"
"Hmmm?" Su looked up, seeming to come to herself. "What was that, Lu?"
"You look as if you have seen a ghost." Lucy laughed a bit at that, but Susan only gave her a strained smile.
"Don't you mean a Ghost?" Susan asked, giving a pale attempt at a joke. Lucy tipped her head to the side.
"Do we have those here in Narnia?" she asked, thinking about it.
"Considering how many have died before their times? Yes, I bet we do."
"Well, I don't think I want to think about that," Lucy decided, then her enthusiasm bubbled right back up to the surface. "Anyway, I have good news! I have a letter from Edmund. He says he's alright, although where he's going he won't be able to write again soon…"
Lucy continued on, and in her excitement, she never asked what Susan was thinking so hard about. It was better that way.
"I don't think your plan is working."
"Be easy. These things take time."
"And what if he dies before we are done?"
"Then it was never meant to be in the first place. It won't change the plan."
"No?"
"No, because it was never about him."
"…I will only wait so long."
"And I will wait as long as I have too. That is why I will not fail."
"If you say so."
"It was the Bunnies that figured it out."
Caspian stood next to the Warthog, looking across the long expanse of kitchens that fed the increased number of palace occupants. Easily a hundred different people and Creatures hustled about, trying to prepare and deliver food to those that ordered it. Ever since allowing the townspeople entrance into the castle, the kitchen staff had been stretched to its limits, and the Old Narnians had stepped in to help. So it was a sea of olive toned skin, Faun legs, and dwarven beards, all surging around busily. Truly, the only one that wasn't moving was the large figure in the far corner, Alfred the Bulgy Bear. They had all learned that despite how much he wanted to be of help, it just took too much effort to clean his ever sticky paws of honey, and therefore he couldn't touch anything without getting it sticky too. So they had set him in the corner with his own honey pot and told him to 'keep an eye on things'. He did it very well.
"The Bunnies run the food?" Caspian asked, trying to find them in the crowd. Every so often he would catch a floppy ear appear and disappear quickly.
"Almost always," the Boar stated. "They aren't used to these different spices that the Telmarines use in their cooking, so it took them a while to realize that some of the dishes had a distinct odor to them."
"The dishes that came to me?" Caspian shook his head. "But I do not understand. I usually take my meals with the other Kings and Queens. Lucy steals off my plate regularly. How is it that they were unaffected?"
"Was there any time that you were not always taking your meals with them?" the Boar asked. Caspian thought back, then sighed.
"Yes, when… when I felt Queen Susan was displeased with me. The trouble started about then, didn't it? But after that I was eating almost every meal with them."
"Almost? If your Majesty was only eating alone very infrequently, then it makes sense that the last dose of amphet was delivered in such quantity. Perhaps they tried to make the most of the opportunity."
"Perhaps." Caspian stared out at the kitchen, wondering if this feeling of distrust in his own people would ever go away. He had not imagined this kind of thing, never when he had fought for his throne. He had thought that they would have wanted him as their king, instead of Miraz. Obviously not.
"Oh, please don't believe that, sire," the Boar begged. Caspian hadn't realized he'd spoken his thought aloud. "From what I've heard most of the townsfolk are much happier than they used to be. They still don't trust us completely yet, nor our kings and queens, but they are losing their anger about the battle at Beruna. It just takes time. It is someone else that is trying to make things go badly for you."
"Do the Bunnies know who poisoned my food?"
"No, my king. There are too many people in the kitchens at all times. Dishes pass hands constantly. They have found out that others in the castle have experienced similar effects as you had. Not all the plates are making it where they are intended."
"But enough of them did," Caspian said grimly. "And if the other monarchs didn't get sick along with me, then it means that someone has been watching my schedule very closely."
"What would you have us do, sire?" the Boar asked humbly. "It has been near impossible to keep track in here, even though we have secretly tried. It has been kept so secret that they picked me to tell you. No one in the kitchens knows me, for I usually help out in the town with rebuilding."
"Have most of the homes been finished?" Caspian asked. The Warthog nodded. "Good. I'll make an announcement that those who can should return to the city. That should empty out extras here. Please tell the others to keep me informed if they smell anything unusual. And for love of Aslan, please don't let anything bad reach the queens' mouths."
"Understood, sire."
"This is distressing…" Caspian said softly. "Someone close to us has been causing this."
The Boar said nothing, for there was nothing to say. He did however manage to look sad. Warthogs are such sweet and gentle Creatures.
"If I didn't know any better, I would say we were slowing deliberately." Trumpkin glanced at his king with wise eyes as they topped one hill and found themselves facing another. "And I'd say that it doesn't have much to do with the Wolf."
"Then it's good that you don't know any better," Edmund replied, giving Trumpkin a rueful look. Then he sighed. "Is it so bad that I don't particularly want to go there?"
"Most decent folk avoid this area at all costs," the Dwarf commented. "It is not strange that you would be one of them. Bad things happen in the shadows of the White Witch's castle… things that even I would rather not have seen."
"You've been here before then?" Edmund looked up sharply. "When?"
"When I was much younger and much more the fool," Trumpkin said. "And if it was not you that I followed, I would surely not be going back. It was in the Town that I met Nikabrik, and he was the purest thing there. There are some things that the Wolf did not warn you about."
"Such as?"
"Such as the true purpose of the Town." Trumpkin grew quiet, even though he had started the conversation.
"Dragging it out isn't going to make it sound any better," Edmund reminded him. "Isn't it best to just know? It can't be any worse than the White Witch was herself."
"Sometimes I forget that you actually knew her," the Dwarf admitted.
"I never forget," Edmund said simply. "It's made me a better person all around. Now what is it that I need to know?"
"It is this. The Town didn't exist until a few hundred years ago. Up until that point, fear kept even the darker Creatures at bay. They had failed their queen and they were afraid of her wrath should she return. But eventually the fear faded, and as the Telmarines drove our people into near extinction, some of the old believers returned here. They wanted to bring her back, although they needed a Son of Adam to do it, which they didn't have."
"Hence where Caspian and Pete came in," Edmund nodded, understanding. "But why didn't they just swipe one of the Telmarines? Their blood followed the same lines."
"Far as I know, and mostly from what Nikabrik told me, most of the darker magic was lost during the Golden Age of Narnia, and even more was lost as we were all killed. It took a long time to remember how things were done back then, and a lot of the more powerful Witches and Hags and others died in the learning. The two that approached Caspian were of the greatest power."
"Small blessings that they were slain," Reepicheep said from next to Trumpkin. Neither the human nor the Dwarf disagreed.
"So they all gathered together near the White Witch's castle?" Edmund questioned. The Dwarf nodded, lowering his head as the trudged up the next hill.
"And their numbers grew. They still fear the castle, but the Town is the heart of their beliefs. It is a very dangerous place," Trumpkin sounded worried as he spoke. "It is not a place we should be going."
"We don't have much of a choice," Edmund shrugged as if it did not concern him. "Do not listen to the Wolf, my friends. We will be fine, Aslan is with us."
Edmund reached over and gripped Trumpkin's shoulder reassuringly. Then he paused as they topped the hill. Below them spread a valley, an arm of the Great River snaking through its center. At the far end of the valley reared the sharp spires of a castle, its pale stone walls stark and cold even without the covering of ice. Beneath, nestled within the castle's ever present shadow laid the darkest town Edmund had ever seen.
"I certainly hope so," Trumpkin muttered. "Because where we're going, we're going to need him."
Caspian found Susan in the last place he had expected her to be. She was sitting on a small wooden stool in the back of the armory, a gleaming Telmarine blade lying naked on her lap. Her head was bowed and she seemed deep in thought.
"My lady?" Caspian asked quietly, pulling her out of her reverie. Susan looked up at him.
"Oh. Hallo, Caspian."
"What are you doing down here?" he asked curiously, moving to lean against a rack of shields before her.
"Thinking," she said with a touch of a wry smile.
"May I ask as to what? I have never seen you with a sword before."
"That's because I do not like them," Susan replied, running a finger down the length of the blade. "A bow and arrow can string a rope across a gorge, or knock an apple from the highest branch, or fell an injured beast. But swords are made for one thing only, to kill others."
"I do not see it that way," Caspian told her softly. "May I?" He stepped forward and extended his hand. Susan nodded, passing him the sword. Caspian grasped the hilt, hefting it once or twice to get the feel of it, and then began to twirl it about in a series of forms taught to all skilled swordsmen.
"How do you see it?" she asked, raising an eyebrow but not feeling uncomfortable at all with his actions. Caspian had wielded a blade much closer to her than this, each movement slicing skin and bone instead of air, and with a much deadlier purpose than perfecting form.
"I see it as an extension of myself. What I cannot reach, my sword reaches for me. When I seek to protect, my sword aids me. When I am sharp, it is sharper still, and can cut through my trials."
"And what of the blood it sheds?" Susan asked. "Is that an extension of you as well?"
Caspian lowered the blade, letting the flat of it rest against his palm.
"The blood on my hands is my own," Caspian said quietly. "And even after the heat of battle, I remember every drop." He passed it back to her, and once more Susan placed it on her lap.
"There is something to be said for distance between yourself and your foes," Susan admitted, looking unhappy. "To not ever actually feel the life you take slip away."
Caspian moved and knelt before her. "What is wrong, my queen?" he asked her gently. "You seem distraught."
"You asked me earlier why I never chose a suitor," Susan said, looking down at the sword. "This is why."
Caspian didn't understand, so he remained quiet to let her explain.
"If I never chose one, I could never slight the others," she said softly. "Then there was no excuse for the greater nations to take offense. Every so often it would happen anyway, but on the whole, relations would stay better if there was always the chance that a match could happen."
"I see," he said. And he did. Susan's face scrunched up as she continued.
"But it is not true, what the histories say. I did choose a suitor, once. He was… he was a friend of Edmund's. And I cared for him even though it was not perhaps the wisest thing to do."
Caspian felt a surge of jealousy but shoved it aside.
"They killed him. I don't know who did it, even though Ed and Pete took the country apart trying to find out. But they came upon him in the streets, drug him into an alley, and murdered him." There were unshed tears in Susan's eyes. "All because of politics. He was a good man, and deserved better. So I never did choose another, nor allowed for any suitor to court me, no matter how shallow the attempt."
Caspian took Susan's hand, calmly removing the sword from her lap and lying it down by the chair. Then he stood, pulling her to her feet and tugging her closer. Unlike before Peter had given his approval, this time Susan came unhesitatingly into his arms.
"But this is another time," Susan whispered. "There are no others asking for me but you. The danger has to be less." It sounded as if she was trying to convince herself.
"I do not fear being with you," Caspian told her after a moment of quietness. "I only fear being without."
"Sweet words do not change things--" Susan started, sounding exasperated at being handed a line, but he cut her off.
"Do not treat me as if I am any of the others before me," Caspian said firmly. "If it is bluntness you want, instead of softer words, then hear me. Should anyone even try to either take me from you or take you from me, my queen, they will die by my own hand. Just because I remember and regret the blood I shed does not mean I will hesitate a moment to shed it."
Susan pulled back and walked a step away, seeming even more distraught. She faced the map on the wall, nose inches from the Ford at Beruna.
"You are just like all the others, Caspian, if you think like that. That I am a possession to be protected…"
Caspian followed, standing directly behind her. He was so close that his breath touched the back of her neck, his hands on either side of her head, boxing her in.
"Nay, my lady," he spoke quietly in her ear. "You are my comrade, whom I fought alongside. You are my friend, supporting me when I am in need. You are my confidant, when I can speak to no one else, and my advisor, even when I do not always agree. These things are why I will not hesitate to shed blood for you, or over you. But right now you are no man's possession, especially mine."
"I just don't want to lose you," Susan whispered in a pained voice. Caspian made a soothing noise in his throat and kissed her shoulder. "It is frightening to think that I might."
"You speak of more than just death," he acknowledged, wrapping an arm about her waist. "I know you fear leaving but you are here now, with me, and I am glad for it." Susan leaned back against his chest, letting herself benefit from his strength. After a long moment of simply letting him support her, she straightened.
"It will be fine," Susan said determinedly. "Or Aslan would not have allowed his mind to be changed." If there was a tiny hitch to her voice, Caspian did not acknowledge it. However, the King kept a light hold of her even as she turned around in his arms.
"You must think I am silly, thinking and talking like this," Susan said with a bit of an embarrassed expression. Caspian just smiled.
"It is not wrong to have doubts and fears," Caspian told her simply. "It is only wrong to let them control you."
Susan smirked. "Should I bring up the pot and the kettle?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. Caspian looked at her blankly, and she stifled a giggle. "Never mind. Thank you for listening to me, Caspian."
"Is that not one of the duties of a suitor?" he asked playfully, nuzzling her neck. "Having never been one, sometimes I am unsure what is expected."
"Perhaps I can help," Susan replied archly, wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing as his breath tickled her ear.
"It would be appreciated," Caspian murmured before turning so that he captured her mouth with his. Any suggestions that Susan came up with in her mind quickly became forgotten.
The young man had been paid handsomely for doing what he was doing. Even though he didn't understand the reasoning behind it, he felt as if it was worth it. The coins in his pocket would feed him for a month, even after buying the strange things he had been ordered to get. It had been hard explaining to his girl why he had rubbed these rank smelling roots about his body, but she hadn't complained when he sent her to the market with a purse full of money. So he waited, listening to the eerie drip drip dripping behind him, wondering how much longer it was going to take. This place gave him the creeps.
There was a soft whoosh of air, and the young man started, looking down. The sharp end of a spear extended out of his belly, and he stared at in shock. He was still in shock as he felt himself be yanked backwards, then pushed down. He started to fall, and continued to fall, staring at himself in horror as he bled. He was still falling when he died, or else he might have found the sounds of chanting even more disturbing when he finally hit.
Drip. Drip. Drip.