CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PREPARATIONS

There was a silence over the private side of the castle that nothing seemed to be able to break; one noticeable only to the few people that had been in the room when, in Juliet's mind, everything had fallen apart because of a proposal from one of her closest friends. And though all activities in the castle had continued on as they ever had, Juliet still couldn't understand the situation regardless of how much she thought about it: what could possibly have been the High King's reason for his proposal, and above all, who or what had even put the idea of it in his mind in the first place? Not to mention, ever since that day she had been unable to even attempt being overly friendly with anyone around her; not because she didn't want to be, but because she could swear that she had not ever treated anyone inside the castle any differently, and yet somehow something much less platonic than the sisterly love she had grown to feel for the three royals—since Edmund had refused to be her friend for the entirety of nearly six years—had grown within Peter's heart to make him think that theirs could be a happy marriage.

We could grow to love each other he had said, but in the end, if she had accepted, it would have all been a lie; nothing but a match like the one between her parents, nothing but a match like the one her parents had meant for her to have before any thought of Romeo Montague crossed her mind. And what indeed would have become of her if she had accepted? Nothing more than a liar and a traitor to the very vows of Protection she had spoken all those centuries ago; and though she did not regret her refusal, a sort of shame and fear did continue to hang over her shoulders every single day; and so the silence remained between the Kings, Queens and Juliet.

Though, if the girl had been able to step out of her own mind to pay attention, then the evidence of the hell of her own making would have become clear; because it was she and not them who stayed away, it was she who refused to have dinner with the royals for nearly a week regardless of how she continued receiving the invitations as she had for every meal before, it was she who used the duties given to her as Lady and Head of Household as an excuse to avoid them to the best of her ability. And yet, enough seemed to have been enough for the Oldest Queen, who, by the fifth day had grown wary of the silence and had thus called Juliet to her cabinet at once; though, of course, she used a very powerful excuse to talk to her there: the proposal had halted every advance that had been made for the preparations of her coming of age ball.

When the knock finally came on the door, Susan immediately perked up, "Come in," she called, inviting Juliet at once; and yet, when the door opened, it was not the familiar cheerfulness of Lucy's lady that stepped in, but some withered copy that walked entirely too straight and refused to look anywhere but the ground. She didn't even seem to have the will to at least look up at the very extensive scene Susan had prepared en par with the excuse she had used to call her: the table painted with the beautiful Narnian map, which usually was cleared of any clutter, was now entirely covered with fabrics, ribbons, beautiful bouquets on vases of different sizes, and sawing tools of many kinds; and in her hands Susan was holding a little flower made of silk that she had been ready to pretend to be decorating.

Unnecessary as it was, for that shadowed copy of Juliet Capulet simply never looked up, and curtsied as lowly as she could. "Your majesty," She greeted, almost immediately breaking Susan's heart.

It was as if now she was entirely too terrified of acting how she had, as if it were obvious she was no longer wanted, as if some sort of declaration had been made shortly after the proposal that if she didn't accept to be Peter's Queen then she was no longer a friend of the crown, and the thought that perhaps Juliet could think such a thing… well, it was enough to make Susan forgo al her pretence of decorations to rise from her chair at once. "Oh, no; come, Juliet, no," She strode with quick steps in the girl's direction until she could reach and help her rise from the ground; she wrapped her arms around the Lady at once. "There is no one else here, please… you are my dearest friend, you need not bow as if this were some political event."

For a moment Juliet was unable to respond to the embrace regardless of how both her hands were raised by the Queen's waist; because the shame she had carried all this time had made confusion turn her into a shocked statue as the other's lack of a cold greeting truly befell her, "But..." she began, tentatively allowing her arms to wrap the other in a careful embrace. "Still?"

"Oh, of course, still." Susan easily responded, pulling away from the embrace before Juliet could truly return it so the great relief and affection of her eyes could be clear for her to see. "Nothing has changed."

May it be the dramatic bone inside her body, but, suddenly, Juliet wanted to cry. "But..." She tried again, as if it hadn't been enough, "…what happened with Peter—"

"—was a mistake," Susan finished for her as she moved to hold her hands, "You were right, Juliet, and if Peter hadn't been so angry he would have told you so himself instead of telling you to go." Even the gentleness of a scoffed breath of disbelief left from Susan's lips as she began to pull Juliet toward the table and their usual seats, "Truly, I can't believe Lucy was right." She admitted, "She said you wouldn't talk to us because of Peter's proposal; because you might think you let us down or we wouldn't want to talk to you again."

Juliet's eyes fell to her hands, which, once freed from Susan's grasp, clasped together and began fidgeting. "She knows me well." She agreed, finally allowing the softness of a smile to lift the corners of her lips.

"I thought I did too, but it seems not as well as she does." Susan sat back on her chair, "She wanted to go talk to you immediately the next day, but I told her that it didn't make sense, that you just needed time to process what had happened and that everything would be back to normal soon; but when you didn't show up to dinner, or breakfast for three days... I knew something had to be really wrong." She paused. "I just didn't think Lucy could be right, I didn't think you would think us so petty as to not talk to you for rejecting Peter."

Almost immediately Juliet's head began to shake as she finally sat down and tried to feel free to get comfortable on her usual chair by Susan's side. "Nay, not petty, I swear." She quickly corrected, "But loyal; for I thought he wouldst rather talk to me nevermore, thus thy loyalty to him would hold thee hostage into never speaking to me again. And I decided to stay away, to make of the matter an easier one that would allow our duties to the palace and Narnia itself to be untouched, so we could continue on; I made myself scarce less' I was needed."

Susan scoffed, "I'd say." Her head shook, too, "Even Edmund started asking after you yesterday, wondering if he should talk to you instead." The short breath of amusement left her lips again. "I guess there really is a first time for everything, isn't there?"

All Juliet could do was nod, "I guess so." After all, Edmund's own reaction to the proposal—of which his frown had been enough to make her think things had turned back to their old enmity—had been one of the bigger reasons she had kept her distance from them all; so to know even he seemed to have forgiven her rejection enough to offer to talk to her... well, it left only one member of the royal family who could still be angry with her: "How is King Peter?" Her eyes lifted to look at Susan again. "I may not wish to be his wife, but I still care for him, I'd ne'er have wished to hurt him."

"You didn't." Susan confirmed with a small smile, "You really should talk to him, you'd be able to see for yourself; yes, his ego got a bit of a bruise since he'd never been flat out rejected before, but he recovered quite quickly; he even told me he was relieved you had said no."

"Oh," Juliet said, her brows raising in surprise almost immediately, "I see," Ouch.

But, as the very first sign that things had gone back to normal, Susan was able to read Juliet's response like the open book she had always been, "Oh, Juliet, not like that." She laughed, leaning forward to hold one of the Lady's restless hands, "Only that he said you were right: you are like a sister to him, and he doesn't love you the way a husband should, and it wouldn't be fair to either of you."

"Oh," Juliet understood.

"Yes; which, I already knew, by the way. After all, he didn't ever really make a fool of himself in front of you, which is a very telling way to know who he does fancy someone." She leaned back on her chair again, and though she had been smiling, suddenly the expression felt a little forced, "I guess… really, I should be the one apologising to you."

To that, Juliet frowned, "Why wouldst thou have to apologise?"

"I was the one that gave Peter the idea," Susan confessed with a sigh, begging her friend for forgiveness simply with her eyes,

Well… there was that answer, "Oh," Juliet said for the third time.

"But you need to understand: there were two reasons for this," Susan attempted at once, leaning forward on the busy table, "The first was that both Peter and I… when we realised the depth of our duty written in the books, that we would have to choose someone to marry when we came of age, as I'm supposed to do when this ball comes," she motioned to the many materials on the table quite loosely, "we weren't ready; not even a little bit, and perhaps because of it I didn't really push him to try to choose. And yet, when Peter didn't announce an engagement on his birthday people started to talk, and since he couldn't make up his mind about what princess or other he might want to meet… you came to mind.

See, he wasn't lying," Susan continued as she reached to take both of Juliet's hands in hers, "What he said about you being revered in the eyes of all the Narnians, it's true; you're much more important to this world that you realise, Lilyette, and it is that position that made me think of you as an option in the first place: because if he married you, then it would be like marrying a saint, something much better politically than a princess or Lady." She paused, because even though the family nickname for the girl at her side had left her lips as naturally as before Peter's failed proposal, Susan still had to force herself to look away for a moment or two before the surprise in Juliet's face shook away her conviction to confess. "Of course, the second reason…" She forced herself to look at her again. "The reason that convinced me to say your name at all, was that I remembered that once, long before any thoughts of a coming of age ball had entered either of our minds, he told me he thought he fancied you; but... well, I conveniently let myself forget that whatever fancy he might have had, had been long before we all became really close friends with you. So I offered the idea because of our friendship, and… obviously, being Peter, the thought of fulfilling his duty as King overpowered anything else, because at least, if he married you, then it wouldn't have been like the old Kings of our world that married someone they barely even knew. He even told me so himself not even two days ago, he said that he convinced himself that he had fancied you, and surely such fancies couldn't just disappear; it's why I even encouraged him to court you."

"Court me?" Juliet finally spoke, though the surprise that had been there before had turned more into shock, "Ere I thought he had simply begun to crave my company because our friendship was dear, not..." Oh, to think the situation had been so intricately thought, so planned... If she had been offended before, now she was only plain flattered; "I never would have imagined…" because, yes, Peter and Susan had it right: she truly did not think she was that important to the country or its creatures; let alone its Kings, and yet...

You are essential to the future of Narnia; for you are its compass now and you will be forever more... Those words had been spoken directly to her and until that moment she simply had not understood them; just how blind to everything around her had she truly been? Ever since she had awakened and breathed for the first time in Narnia, she had thought she had been meant to be a witness to everything around her, to be the observer instead of the player, to protect, but never participate, but she had been so absolutely blind. For all she knew it had been her lack of acknowledgement onto the King's courting that had been the reason the two had never fallen in love to begin with; and even if the love of Peter Pevensie was not what Aslan had planned for her, would she even have been able to see what was? It appeared that not only had an attempt of love been meant in her direction—one she had thought she was evermore immune to over the reality that her one rightful chance at it had ended her life—but she clearly had to open her eyes to the truth that surrounded her in general, because the world outside of that palace thought much more of her than she had ever thought of herself.

Suddenly the words of her world's creator made a lot more sense.

"Please, Juliet, I'm sorry." Came Susan's voice again, breaking the silence and pulling the Lady away from the self-thought enlightenment that befell her mind. "I'm sorry we tried to use you like this, and I'm sorry th—"

"Halt, I beg." Juliet interrupted, giving Susan's hands a gentle squeeze; it seemed, for the first time ever, the queen had misinterpreted her silence. "There be naught for which thou must apologise, for thou hast not used me; nor wouldst thou have done even if had accepted thy brother's proposal. Thou were not wrong upon thy thought and reason: the High King and I… we are friends, and a friendship being taken as the foundation of a marriage is far more desirable than a match unknown; thus, I pray, blame thee not, for you were a sister and a friend, trying to offer the best of all possible options to one you love." She finally managed to smile, "And… now that I know such reasons I finally do not feel guilt for refusing the match, but instead I feel thankful, not unlike the King himself, for now he is free; free to find love, free to truly marry for a reason he should, alike thee, my dearest Susan." She paused, shifting to hold the Queen's hands as she had been holding hers. "I beg of thee, marry not because thou art a Queen and the books command thee to, for it has been long since this country held traditions written upon such parchments, when the reign of the Witch erased them all. Let thy subjects speak all they like, for there be peace in the realm, and all alliances are well, Queen Lucy hast made sure of it; and if thou wisheth of love, then take thy time, meet many, thou hast years yet before any expectancy doth come for Edmund's own choice, dost that not give thee more time?"

"It does." Susan agreed, her gaze falling to the table against the reason found in Juliet's eyes, "But there must be an heir to the Narnian throne, one of us must marry, and soon, because—"

"Nay, such should not be thy worry, I say," Juliet interrupted with a soft pull on Susan's hands; forcing her to look at her again. "Thou art Queen, like thy siblings, until the day of thy death; which should not come for many years." She comforted, "Thus, give thy heart time to fall in love; for thou hast time, thou art young. Not much have I learnt by my travels to our other world; but the truth is thus: mine ancestors were wrong, mine parents were wrong, thou are young at eighteen, not old. No spinster in the making, no old maid to never be loved, believe me, my dearest friend, thou art young."

It seemed that way for Susan too, it felt that way, because her hands were still very soft, her eyes were still very wide and curious onto the comings of the world, her personality remained as lively as it had been the day of their coronation; and though she did not think herself a child after taking care of her siblings all the time, it was easy to see what Juliet meant; Susan still felt hope, she still felt young, and now she also felt… dared she even think it? Oh, she felt relieved, "Perhaps." She said at last with a smile; giving Juliet's hands a gentle squeeze in return, "But the ball will still happen, and I need all the help I can get with the decorations."

The gratefulness was clear within the Queen's voice, if not the relief, and at last, that was that: no longer did Juliet feel the need to avoid the royals, no longer did she feel as if she had failed, and she had also even comforted her good friend; perhaps she would even join all of them at dinner that evening, she didn't know. All she hoped was that Susan listened to her advice, so that The Gentle Queen did not get in the way of Susan-the-girl's life and make of her a young bride at eighteen.

Just like the arrival of the enlightenment she thought she had gotten... it seemed only time would tell.