A month and a half - not bad, right? Things are finally starting to pick back up.
I am so sorry about the long delays - but to show my gratitude, I ended the chapter with a happy little surprise for you!
I've got a few chapters built up, and I've got a lot more momentum now, so hopefully there will be fewer breaks and pauses between chapters.
A quick thank-you to all you guys who've been following Once and Future, and who have stuck with me for the past - what, year and a half? (Personally, I'm kind of impressed with myself. I don't have that great a track record with commitment, and look at me! The same work for a year and a half! Yay!)
And, as always, a million HUGE thank-yous in every language known to Man and Beast, to my wonderful Beta, CaraLee934 (check her out, guys - she's got some pretty bombin' stuff!)
Disclaimer: Narnia and its inhabitants belong to C.S. Lewis, and the characters and places of Merlin belong to BBC.
And now, the feature presentation *cue dramatic orchestral swell*
Once and Future, Chapter 11: Of Beasts and Kings
In which a Queen is Ticklish, a Prince is let off Bed-rest, and a King Returns.
"Oh, Queen Lucy, please hold still!"
"I'm sorry, Mistress Millie," Lucy giggled, "but that tickles!"
"Your Majesty goes through this every time," the Mouse seamstress lamented. "We are already doing everything we can to keep from tickling."
"Oh, I know." The queen sobered as Mistress Millie tutted about. "Please, I really am sorry. You don't have to do this – I am perfectly happy with the dress I got from Terebinthia last time I was there. Mr. Tumnus says it is the perfect shade for my eyes."
"Your royal sister would have my tail if I let you walk onto the dance floor in something you've worn before, my Lady," the seamstress sighed. This was a conversation they had every year come the Winter's End festival. Susan always insisted the siblings get fitted for new outfits – and new wardrobes, if the old ones were too small. She had tossed away Edmund's favorite boots one year because he had grown an inch. Edmund still made a point to grumble about it every time he had to go through this. Peter had always endured it with a long-suffering huff, but Lucy was the only one who truly hated this. She didn't like having to be still – even in the throne room, during great hearings and important banquets, Lucy was usually fidgeting, much to her sister's dismay. And the gentle, prodding fingers of the Mouse seamstresses really didn't help things, at all.
"But I haven't grown any – couldn't you just use the measurements you made last year?"
"Daughters of Eve are always changing about the waist," the Mouse fussed. "I would rather be safe than sorry. Please be still!"
Lucy huffed, but did her best to help the seamstress.
"There is someone at the door, my Queen," Eyla said from her place on the rug. Sure enough, there was a knock, and upon receiving permission, a Lamb poked her head through, then her whole body.
"Good morning, Queen Lucy," she said in that soft, timid voice common among the Sheep. "Queen Susan says the Splendour Hyaline has been spotted on the horizon, and to please come down to meet her at your convenience. She also said that Prince Arthur has been informed, and that he wishes to attend the greeting party, if you think he can walk."
"Peter's back already? It mustn't have been a very pressing matter, if he could have resolved it in less than a day. I shall have to check on Prince Arthur before Peter comes ashore." Lucy looked hopefully down at Mistress Millie.
"I suppose you must prepare for your royal brother's return," she sighed good-naturedly. "Very well; I have everything I need. By your leave, Your Grace." Lucy nodded with fervor, and hopped off the fitting stool. She shoved it under her bed, happy to store it away for another year, and helped the Mouse gather all her things. The Lamb tried to help, but since she only had a nose, and was not yet very graceful, she ended up scattering all of Mistress Millie's threads across the rug. Eyla sprung up as a needle flew straight for her eye.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Your Grace!" the Lamb breathed. She scrambled to pick everything up, but Lucy pulled her aside.
"It's quite alright, Una," she said sweetly. "But Mistress Millie is very particular about where her things go, and I am afraid that if we try to help, we shall only make things worse for her. Why don't we go see what can be done for Prince Arthur? I'm sure visiting with you will make him feel lots better."
"You think?" Una asked, big eyes glistening.
"Well, whenever I am not feeling well, a Lamb always makes it better. Do you not find it so, Eyla?"
"I am no Human, my Queen," the Panther replied. "How should I know whether or not a Lamb aids in your healing process?"
"But Prince Arthur is Human?"
"Yes, he's as much a Son of Adam as I am a Daughter of Eve. And I think he will find comfort in a Lamb's touch after the shock he has had. Come. We must fetch one thing from King Peter's chambers, then we can go to Prince Arthur."
If Lambs could smile, Una would have. She stood up shakily and followed her Queen out of the room, trying her very hardest not to mind the great Cat behind her.
After the Doe left, Morgana guided him back up to the main level of the castle, where they ran into Lucy and her entourage. She was holding a long bundle wrapped in cloth, and beside her a Lamb carried a small basket in its mouth. Merlin could not see the queen's Panther guard, but he had no doubt she was watching over her mistress.
"Hello, Merlin!" Lucy said cheerfully, waving her free hand. "Morgana! Are you headed up to see Arthur?"
"Yes," Morgana replied. "We thought to give him a break from the monotony of his bed."
"So had I. Do you mind if we join you?" Lucy tilted her head down to the Lamb, who bowed in the fashion of the Beasts. Morgana smiled at the sweet thing and nodded.
"Please do." As the four (or five, if Eyla was around) made their way back to the guest wing, Lucy explained to Merlin how things would happen, at the dock.
"It's really more of a party than a greeting campaign," she said. "Anyone who wishes can come; sometimes it's just us, and sometimes it's the entire court. There'll be music, food, dancing, and games. At some point, the Splendour Hyaline will come in, and Peter will join the festivities. Usually they last long into the night, and we have been known to simply fall asleep there, on the beach. I suspect something similar will happen tonight; it's been a while since our last party, and Narnians, as you will find, will take any excuse they can to celebrate."
"I have a theory that it's because of the Long Winter," Morgana said. Lucy looked back, interested. "The White Witch kept them suppressed for a hundred years; a century's worth of parties to make up for."
"I never thought of that," the Queen mused. "But it makes sense. At any rate, it would be a good sampling of Narnia, if you and Arthur wish to come. I can promise a good time."
By this point, they had reached Arthur's chambers. Merlin entered first, to prepare his liege for Morgana and the Queen.
Arthur was sitting up, glaring at his leg, but when Merlin announced the ladies, he schooled his face into something more polite. It was still fairly obvious he was unhappy, but Lucy graciously ignored it.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"
"Better, thank you." The smile turned into a grin, and she came forward.
"Wonders what a little bit of rest can do, no?" she asked. "I have someone who would like to meet you." She looked down and addressed the Lamb. "Una, this is Prince Arthur, of Camelot. Your Highness, this is Una Whitetail, of Tablehill. She wanted to know if there was anything she could do to ease your discomfort."
"Queen Lucy says petting a Lamb always makes her feel better, your Highness," Una said softly. "She said you might want a Lamb to pet, and I thought you could pet me, if it will help you feel better." When Merlin met Queen Lucy, his first instinct was to protect her. She had a sweetness, an air of naivete about her that reminded him of a child. A ready smile, a gentle touch, a carefree laugh – even now, he would gladly hunt down the man who took that joy away from her. But Queen Lucy looked like a hardened warrior next to this little Lamb. Una was half-hiding behind Lucy's skirts, and her legs were spread awkwardly, as if she did not quite know how to work them yet. She was looking hopefully at the prince, who appeared quite at a loss for words. Merlin decided that, if Arthur would not pet the thing, if only to make her happy, then he would devote all of his energy to making the prince's journey back home a nightmare.
Fortunately for everyone, the prince seemed as taken with her as Merlin was, and apparently even Arthur Pendragon, son of the scourge of all things magical, suspicious of anyone he did not know, was not immune to the pleas of an innocent Lamb.
He smiled down at her and placed a hand on her head, even allowing her to nuzzle his leg when she came forward. The Lamb was gentle, aware that she was near his injury, but Arthur didn't seem to mind.
"Thank you, sweet Lady," he said, rubbing her head one last time. "I feel almost as good as new." Una sighed and backed away, head down. Merlin wondered if lambs could blush – he imagined that if they could, she would be right now.
"I'm sure," Queen Lucy laughed. "You sound like my brother. So eager to get right back out and get hurt. I don't know what it is about royals and bed-rest, but between Peter and Edmund, I have become quite immune to lies from the sickbed. If Peter were in your place, there would be a guard at every possible exit, whose sole purpose would be to keep the High King from leaving his bed."
Merlin thought that might be an idea worth exploring when they returned to Camelot, if they could find someone who could stand against the wrath of Arthur Pendragon. Arthur looked quite sympathetic to King Peter. Lucy continued, "But that is off the point. I have something for you -" here she brought the bundle up and placed it across Arthur's legs. "They are Peter's. I think you and he are close enough in height that they will serve you just as well as they do him." Arthur took the cloth away to reveal a pair of polished wooden crutches.
Merlin had carved more makeshift crutches and braces than he could count (a sad testament to Arthur's uncanny ability to get hurt, even with Merlin's protection), but these – they were pieces of art. Carvings ran up and around the poles, leaves and wooden flames, little animals climbing up. There were leather-covered hand-pieces which were already molded to (he assumed) King Peter's grip. The wide piece at the top was padded and also covered in leather, so that the user would have maximum comfort in his injury.
"I had a pair made for each of my lummoxes of brothers. Edmund helped design them – after a particularly unpleasant incident involving a Hag, he added a feature particular to his and Peter's." She took one of the crutches and pulled off the bottom, revealing a blade about a foot long. Arthur was fascinated – Merlin could already see his mind working on something like this for himself.
Lucy anticipated that, and said, "I'm sure we can finagle the design from Master Borbadok. He loves to show off his creations, and nothing would please him more than for a foreign dignitary to take his designs across the Mountains. But for now, perhaps the ability to move at your leisure will lift your spirits. You've been in Narnia for almost three days, and you've hardly been able to enjoy any of it!"
"Thank you, Queen Lucy, for your consideration," Arthur nodded his head, unable to bow whilst sitting. "I know many a healer – many a royal – who would not go to such lengths for strangers."
"Then you don't know many decent healers or royals," she replied offhandedly. Morgana smirked at her friend's candor. Arthur didn't quite seem to know how to respond, so he merely thanked her again.
She urged him to try them out. "As long as you keep weight off of that leg, I see no reason why you shouldn't be up and about. Susan has asked if you and your company would like to be there to meet Peter when he comes ashore." Lucy, Merlin had noticed, thought faster than she could speak. When she was excited – which was just shy of all the time – her speech grew disjointed and she began to change subjects often, sometimes even in the middle of a sentence. As such, he was not surprised that she had segued into an entirely different topic.
Arthur, too, was slowly becoming accustomed to his hostess' oddities, and did an excellent job keeping up with her. "Thank you, my Lady," he said, already brightening. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful (under Lucy's watchful eye, anyway) of disturbing his leg.
They waited for him to get the crutches situated under him before putting his full weight on the stable leg. It took him a moment to get his legs under him, but soon he was hobbling around like a professional.
"Perfect!" Lucy smiled. "Well, I don't see any reason why you can't make your own amusement now. If you think you're up to it, we can go down to the beach as soon as you're ready – Peter will be coming in within the hour."
"It would be an honor, Lady," he replied. Lucy grinned.
"Wonderful!" she said, clapping her hands once. "I will allow you to get ready – I should check o Sirs Geraint and Leon; they should be feeling much better today, and we want them, as well, to understand that we wish you all the comfort as can be offered.
"Can I go help them, as well, Queen Lucy?" Una asked.
"I'm sure they would love it, but won't your mother be looking for you?"
"Yes," the Lamb sighed. She bowed once more to the whole party, then clicked out of the room. Lucy followed with Eyla, and Morgana left soon after, after planning to meet back in thirty minutes.
The knights were indeed feeling much better, so half an hour later, the six (plus Lucy's and Morgana's guards, but Merlin did not count them because they were very good at not being noticed) were headed down to the beach, where Queen Susan was waiting along with what looked like half of Cair Paravel. She smiled from where she stood, under a pavilion housing a multitude of tables and chairs, and more food than Merlin knew existed.
Merlin heard again the haunting songs of the Merfolk – he hadn't realized it, but the music had faded to the background while he was in the castle. He spared a glance at Arthur, who still seemed wary, but not as uneasy as he had been the night before, when he first heard the sound.
"Good evening, Prince Arthur," the elder queen smiled. "Sir Leon, Sir Geraint. Master Merlin." She curtsied to each of them in turn, then rose with her hands folded in front of her. She backed toward the tables and beckoned for them to sit. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. High King Peter will join us as soon as the Splendour Hyaline is docked, but that is not for a while yet."
Arthur nodded gratefully – he looked exhausted, just from the slow and relatively easy walk from his chambers to the beach. Merlin pulled out one of the chairs for his liege, while the knights hastened to do the same for Morgana and the queens. Sir Leon, much more in his element among great ladies than he had been among Narnians, engaged Queen Susan in polite and earnest conversation, while Lucy tried with Sir Geraint. The older knight was stoic on a good day, and he answered politely, though he was not overly generous with information. Morgana sat between Arthur and Lucy, both of whom demanded her attention, so Merlin took this moment to prepare himself for whoever High King Peter turned out to be.
Soon – sooner than he anticipated – a Seagull landed on a perch (which Merlin did not notice until the Seagull landed upon it) next to Queen Susan.
"The Splendour Hyaline has rounded the coast, your Grace," he said. "I have informed the harbor-master, and he has begun the preparations for her docking."
"Thank you, Fishwing," she said. The Gull extended one wing and lowered its beak before flapping away.
Peter inhaled deeply, taking in the ever-welcome sight of Cair Paravel growing on the horizon. Home.
The last two days had been trying, to say the least – trade negotiations were not by any means Peter's strong suit. Edmund was the politician, but even the girls were better at compromise than he was. Lord Regg hadn't truly needed the aid of a royal – he had wanted a king there to witness his daughter's coming out. Peter had been obliged to attend, though he had not planned for a formal evening of dancing and ladies and those blasted fans Human girls used. Susan would be mortified. And the 'trade dispute' (which was no more than a question of taxes, and should there be a quota for how many pears were sent off the island every year) had taken less time to settle than a proper arm wrestling contest.
Susan's cryptic message provided a perfect excuse for Peter to leave immediately, stating that he couldn't force the burden of hostess upon his sister's delicate shoulders (even though Susan was perhaps the one person in the world who could turn an unexpected, injured, foreign prince into an honored guest with less than a day's notice). When Susan was brought up, Lord Regg's protests fell flat, and he gladly facilitated in Peter's departure. Peter disliked using his sisters so, but they did provide good scapegoats in times like this, and it was one of the few things Susan and Lucy both found amusing. Lucy had built an entire identity around the perception that she was still a naïve little girl, and Susan was not above feigning weakness, either. The siblings had found that when people assumed they were incapable of understanding politics, those people tended to be less guarded about what they said, and such missteps had won wars.
Peter shook his head, turning his mind to their guest. Susan really hadn't said much – only that Prince Arthur, from beyond the Western Mountains had been injured, and that Lucy had made it her mission to make him well and to secure an alliance with Camelot.
He sighed. There was never a dull moment, that much was certain. Susan was probably working herself into a mess, worrying about this new alliance; especially with the Winter's End Festival approaching so swiftly – and with it being the tenth anniversary of their Coronation, they had invited representatives from every nation they had ever dealt with, Calormen and Galma included. She had been stressing over this gathering for weeks, and now came a new player whose allegiance was completely up in the air – even Peter himself could feel his blood pressure start to rise.
"We are ready to dock, Sire," the First Mate bowed and joined Peter at the railing.
"Very well." He could see the pavilion Susan had set up – and there was Lucy, standing just out of its shade, waving her arm. The way she was hopping, one would think he had been gone for months, rather than just three days.
He inhaled deeply once more and made his way to the gangplank, waiting until the Splendour Hyaline was berthed before signaling for it to be lowered.
"Hail Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Wolfsbane of the Most Noble Order of the Lion! Hail His Majesty!"
