Selene

Zar's tears had taken the form of a steady stream when the braid was finished and she hurriedly stumbled out of the room. Phesine lingered. She had prepared the water for my bath and helped me out of thick robe. Inside my bathing chambers, I let her undress me and then aid me into a bathing robe. Gingerly, I dipped my toe into the water, judging the temperature, conscious that my handmaiden was close to biting her nails in nervousness. But finding the temperature just of the right degree, I gave her a gentle smile and walked the steps to lower myself into the water. Completely immersed, I beckoned Phesine to come near. Carefully ensuring the freshly weaved braid remained a safe distance from the water, she helped me wash. Once done, she moved to the nails, carefully manicuring them with a clipping tool our master engineer had invented and sold to us for no price at all. When I was satisfied, I stepped out of the bath, and Phesine helped me with a towel and another robe. Back in my room, I bid her goodbye and dressed.

My gown was the same mahogany Peter had worn that day, the absolute ravening desire it evoked in me, the extreme lushness it gave him. I had wished for a similar, but feminine clothing. The tailors had worked at such a pace that one could claim they had magically made it appear from thin air. The sleeves were loose and sagged down from my arms, their laces dangling and floating in the wind as it rushed in through the small gap between the window frames. Not a meticulous worker, my attendant. The waist ribbon that tightened and fitted the dress was a lighter and lustier red. The embroidery depicted the flower Ruhl, its petals blooming out of its bud, its yellow spreading and stretching against the deep red of the fabric. The bottom laces of the gown touched the ground and I dragged them with me as I sat before the mirror.

On the table beside the polished glass, I found all I needed. Zar was a determined attendant. It was a pity she should have to die for the petty comment about my King. I picked up the white, paper-thin flowers the maids must have picked out from the freshly bloomed trees. I tucked them, one by one, into my braid, the white melted into the honey, and gave an almost lustrous image to my braid. I admired it once in the mirror and then applied the dried juice of the cherries from the farms near the castle on my lips, massaging the thin lines to rid of the dryness. Then, with the fresh oil, I massaged my skin, and the pallor vanished into a slightly tanned complexion, though the fairness remained. Much like Peter. Then I stood and ambled to my bed.

There, I slept.

To my wonderful surprise, I dreamt of my younger days, the day I met, in form, the Vlahar brothers. There was a clear distinction between them. Kaios, younger in body and spirit, was the wittier one and Ikàso the graver. The younger boy was freer in soul, laughed when the situation allowed and hid darker emotions under a thick veil of feigned smiles. The older, though wiser, let his emotions pour out easily, even the darker ones. He'd cry and weep and scream. And in appearance, not much was different between the two: both were golden as the sun's top as it rises above the horizon and fair as the white as the petunias that bloomed in the north every spring. Only Kaios had a crooked nose, an accident, his brother had told me, blushing fiercely. Kaios had denied the stupid excuse. Ikàso had, brutally, punched him in a wrestling match when they were children even younger. It had remained crooked ever since: as mere fishermen displaced from the distant western province, they had neither the means nor the provision to get it mended. I remember the sunny laughter that had erupted joyously from my chest.

We had made quick friends: they were a congenial company, and I, after Colvir's death, wished desperately for friends not grieving and not dreary. An impenetrable circle, the three of us had formed, seldom disturbed as I was the High Princess. When my siblings would long for my company, I would bid them fair goodbye and enjoy and cherish the time I could spend with my brother and sisters. Soon then, I learnt that Timur Vlahar had died at the eastern front. The boys had been orphaned and stripped of any remaining money and their house. I pleaded my father to aid them but he refused to shine pity and shower them with free money. However, he proposed they could work under him, as guards, or as soldiers. Ikàso declined but Kaios raised no objections. He craved a post in the army. And he passed the test easily, making into the army without effort. I, joyous for him but unhappy for his brother, arranged for a trivial job at the shores. It didn't pay even a decent amount but with Kaios in the army, it would be enough.

Then, in late afternoons when the sun stood preying over the toiling men at the coast, and in the early nights when the light moon hung like a chandelier in the low sky, I would visit Ikàso, offering to aid him in his hunting and fishing. I watched him labour and sweat for the low wages. I saw and admired, truly, his spirit and determination. The absolute desire to not let his younger brother be overwhelmed by the burdens. I saw and I loved, far more deeply than I had as the young girl gazing idly out of her window. When I had found that he was not the King of Narnia, the fire had quenched and died slowly. But now, the shallower feeling dissolved into a much lusher and truer feeling. A love I had not known until now. And one day, I declared him mine; the maidens hovering around him like bees around honey retreated as if a lioness had bared her teeth at them. And I claimed him truly and soulfully.

I loved him.

And he loved me.

Until a darker fate revealed itself and we both died, in our own ways.

My father had hung his body from the olive tree I and the brothers had planted near their small house. The oblivious Kaios, the poor Kaios had found him. He had struggled past hordes and crowds of people, shoving men and women out of the way, feeling the dread dig deeper and deeper. And he found him, swaying lifelessly in the wind, at the eye of the birds waiting for the body to be left alone. I don't know if he ever wept. He never talked of it. My father, the King had been merciful to spare him. He was a valuable recruit in the army, and every man was priceless with the growing losses in the east. He pleaded his innocence and unawareness of the affair in the court. And Tromin, graciously, let him live. With years greying and passing one after the other, the whispers and gossips died, the subject dropped, the memory of him faded, and Kaios became a friend to the court members and my siblings, mingling with us during the spring and harvest festivals. He was promoted to the post of lieutenant and became a favourite of the King. Since then, neither of us looked back.

Until Father revealed his seemingly asinine wish to conquer Narnia. It was a simple plan, he'd said. His eldest daughter would marry the High King over all Kings of Narnia. The other sovereigns will have not the means to deny me my power, and when the time was ripe and right, we would kill the four, leaving me the soul ruler. With new laws framed, I would crown my father as the new King and resume my title as the High Princess until his death.

But now, now I wondered—I wondered if I had the heart to, indeed, kill Peter. Even months or years from now, I doubted my strength and endurance. Could I strive through another loss that deep?

I'd expected the morning light to greet me when I woke, but it was a gentle hand shaking my shoulder to rouse me. I woke up, yawning lightly, expecting one of my attendants with news of the wedding preparations. Something gone askew and awry and needed my immediate attention. However, it was Kaios.

"What is it?" I asked, stifling a yawn.

"Peter is dead," he said grimly.

I only blinked at him.

He amended, "Almost dead. I just got the news from the castle guard below. Your guards wouldn't let me in, so I sneaked in through the balcony. I'm sorry I didn't mean to—but they've left him."

"What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath. "Please, Selene, they didn't know who he was and they're sorry. They are. You can't…you can't hang them. Please."

"They sent you to beg?" I asked, stroking back his hair.

"You can't…King Tromin can't know that I sneaked into your chambers. If we tell him about Peter, I will…and Marc and Miquel will…Please, Selene," he said, clasping my hands in his. "Please," he repeated.

I didn't give him an answer. Standing up and meticulously straightening my gown, I said, "How long has he been there?"

"Minutes. Mere minutes. No one knows yet. We just need to—"

"You need to do that," I told him, watching the sun rise above slowly, seeing Hisella glow. "It's my wedding day, Kaios. And it won't be ruined." Kaios nodded, albeit reluctantly, and walked to the balcony. "And Kaios." His eyebrows went up. "He's a child," I said. "Be gentle."

And he swung over, into the balcony, conversing in whispers with the mates that had aided him here. Tomorrow, I decided. Tomorrow. Then I sat in front of the mirror again, shining orange as more light slipped in through the narrow gap in the window planks. Delicately, I unwound my braid, slowly pulling out the flowers from the tufts of my hair, letting them rest next to each other. The petals had been mostly ruined, but some were left as smooth and unwrinkled as they were when they had bloomed. When my hair fell loosely over my shoulders, I ran a brush through them. Wiping off the cherry juice from my lips, I waited for my attendants.

The door opened but to reveal Uncle Malar. A guard announced his presence, late in his duty, and I stood up to curtsey. Uncle ordered his guards as well as mine to remain outside, and I saw Zar and Phesine giving me concerned looks as the door shut.

"Uncle," I said, ushering him towards the sofas near the window to sit. "Whatever the matter is?"

He didn't sit. "I just visited your groom."

I was calm. "You did?"

"He's half-dead. Kaios has managed to get him to the guards' rooms below without the knowledge of your father. This is treason, to hide it from the King. He could be hanged." I didn't wince. He sighed. "Selene, the High King is in no condition to—"

"No."

"If Tromin finds out—"

"No."

"And he will when the groom can't stand without collapsing in the next second!" he shouted.

"No!" I shouted back. "I will marry him, today."

He stood still for a moment and then brushed a hand over the crown of my head. "Then you have my blessing and prayers, Princess."

When he stormed out, his guards following closely, I fell into an armchair. Zar and Phesine rushed in, bringing some order to the room. With the bed made and other necessities taken care of, they ushered me out of the chair and led me to the bed. Zar went to prepare the bath and Phesine combed my hair.

"Your Majesty," she said, "are you fine?"

"No."

OOOO

Author's note: This is one of the last times you'll be reading Selene's perspective. And now, it is up to you to decide how much humanity you see in her and how much of the monster.

Response to P: Peter, maybe, did suffer from head trauma and became daring enough to almost get himself killed. But, hey, it's Peter, so can we blame him? And oh, my God, that is a brilliant idea. I really, really wish you could help, too. But sometimes, heroes need to endure just to understand better. Thank you for the review!

With love,
~Pacifia