Chapter 3: On Your Shore
A/N: Hi, everyone! Thanks so much for all the reviews! The title, as well as the lyric at the beginning, will become clear later in this chapter. Also, a year has passed since Victoria's coronation and this chapter.
Soft blue horizons reach far into my childhood days/ As you are rising to bring me my forgotten ways / Strange how I falter/ To find I'm standing in deep water/ Strange how my heart beats/ To find I'm standing on your shore
--Enya, "On Your Shore"
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Year 1023
Victoria heard trouble coming before it even entered her royal reception room. Its boots boomed across the marble floors, while it shouted, "Oh, she thinks not, eh? Well, she's got another think coming!"
Oreius, who stood by Victoria's desk, studying a map of the North with her, glanced up and shook his head. "It sounds like Lord Arran has a bone to pick with you, Majesty."
"Does the sun set in the west?" Victoria gulped in a long stream of air, preparing for the coming explosive lecture.
"Majesty, remember to stand up for yourself," Oreius commanded gently.
A jarring bang as the oak doors tore open and a Man strode in, face the colour of raw meat. "I suppose you have a good excuse for this piece of idiocy!" he fairly screamed as the doors slammed behind him.
Victoria could only stare at him, as he stood before her desk, fists clenched. After an awkward pause, Oreius finally snapped: "Lord Arran! Bow to your Queen!"
Lord Arran dipped into a mechanical bow, still glowering at Victoria. Hoping another pause would calm him down, Victoria waited a moment before saying, "Good evening, Lord Arran. You may address my Majesty."
"Your Majesty," Lord Arran hissed through gritted teeth, standing up straight, "five words: Why--did--you--do--it!"
"Why did I do what?"
"Hello?" Lord Arran called sarcastically. "The Calormene envoy! Why did you dismiss the Calormen envoy!"
Victoria sighed; not this again. "Lord Arran, I have given the Tisroc my final answer. I will not be convinced to change our current trade policies. So, I had no need to speak with them."
"Or was it that you're too scared to speak to them!"
Oreius's eyes flashed. "Do not accuse Her Majesty of cowardice, Lord Arran!"
Lord Arran, sufficiently cowed by Oreius's second rebuke, lowered his voice slightly. "Your Majesty, I am only looking out for your best interests. Get me some wine," he suddenly demanded.
Much to Oreius's consternation, Victoria arose from her desk, obediently took up the decanter of wine and a goblet sitting on the desk, and poured Lord Arran some. She handed him the goblet, and without thanks, he drained it, and resumed his tirade. "If you want the ministers to even think about raising your income, you must stop being so reclusive. They might think you arrogant!"
"Do you think me arrogant, Lord Arran?" Victoria suddenly inquired. As Lord Arran visibly hesitated, she bit her lip and looked away tiredly. If only she weren't so terrifed of the social interactions her throne demanded.
At last Lord Arran muttered, "I think you are at too tender an age to fully realize what is at stake. If you cannot--"
"Ware your patronizing, my lord," Oreius barked indignantly. "It may cost you your title."
Terror showed briefly in Lord Arran's narrow brown eyes until Victoria said, "Peace, Lord Arran; I will not strip you of your title today. Nor will I change my mind about our trade policies yet. You may go now."
A quick bow and Lord Arran stormed away, growling, "Too young and impressionable to properly rule a country..."
When she was sure he could not hear, Victoria pushed her map out of the way, rested her head on her desk and sobbed.
"You have done well, my Queen," Oreius encouraged, patting her shoulder brusquely. "This time he actually left when you told him to. But why, in Aslan's name, did you deign to serve him that cursed wine!"
"Oreius, he's right," Victoria sniffed, scrubbing at tears with the palm of her hand. "I'm not a good queen. I give in too easily. Honestly, I was even that close to agreeing to change our policies just to stop him yelling at me." She turned filled, grey eyes up to her mentor hopelessly.
"But you stood your ground. And for that, Majesty, I commend you."
Victoria didn't seem comforted; she let her head fall back onto her desk.
Oreius grunted with frustration. Even after all his dealings with her emotions, and with those of Queen Susan and Queen Lucy, he still wasn't quite sure what one did with a weeping lady. At last he mumbled, "Your Majesty, you are distraught. Perhaps a brisk walk outdoors will calm your nerves."
Still wiping her face, Victoria nodded. "Aye. Will--will you call Tumnus? I'd like him to walk with me."
The centaur started for the door. "Yes, madam."
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"It's interesting that you should choose this beach for a walk, Your Majesty," Tumnus remarked. "This was the High King Peter's favourite beach."
Victoria removed her leather sandals and stepped into the gentle, frigid tide. "Really?"
Tumnus nodded thoughtfully. "Almost every morning, before the sun was even up, he'd come out here and stay until dawn. Sometimes he'd ride up towards the cliffs and then come back; then other times he'd hunt for shells. And then other times, he'd just stand here, staring at the ocean. I suppose he was thinking."
Silently, Victoria knelt in the water, dipped her hands in and fished out an olive shell.
"He'd also sing," Tumnus continued, pulling his scarf tighter against the nippy breeze.
Victoria pocketed her olive shell, and buried her numb toes in the sun-baked sand to warm them. "I remember his singing voice. Strong."
"Especially when he sung you lullabies," Tumnus chuckled, "because he had be sure you could hear him over your own wailing."
Laughing, Victoria shoved Tumnus. "Oh, I'm sure!"
"Do you remember the lullabies?" Tumnus inquired.
"No," Victoria glanced at the ocean and fingered the ring hanging from her neck. "I suppose I was too young."
"He sang 'Forest of Dreams' to you the most. I thought for sure you'd recall that one."
"How does it go?" Victoria asked, hoping hearing it would revive a memory.
In a quiet voice, Tumnus sang:
"Close thine eyes, dearest heart. Mount your starry-maned mare..."
Elated that she recognized the melody, Victoria took it up, her celestial soprano blending sweetly with Tumnus's warm tenor.
"Close thine eyes, dearest heart. Mount your starry-maned mare
"And cross yon verdant meadows of peace. Beyond there
"Sleeps the Forest of Dreams, under spells of moonlight.
"May the Lion guard thee, child. Now gallop through night."
As they sang the final line, Victoria closed her eyes to keep her tears of remembrance at bay. Where is my father? her heart sighed. Would that he could sing me that lullaby again.
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As night enveloped Cair Paravel, Lord Arran strolled aimlessly near the back gates. A low whistle from the nearby shrubs made him start nervously, but when he saw a tall figure, in a dark robe and hooded cloak emerge, he relaxed.
"What news, comrade?" the figure hissed.
Lord Arran glanced apprehensively towards the gates, and turned to the hooded figure. "The Queen refuses to hear reason."
A deep sigh from the figure. "Then the Tisroc--may he live forever--will have to bring her to it in his own holy way."
"Tell him I will be glad to help with his holy way in whatever way I can," Lord Arran commanded vehemently.
The figure said nothing else until he had drawn a leather pouch from underneath his robe and slapped it into Lord Arran's palm. Something clinked inside it, quiet and metallic. "May Tash bless you for your friendship to our country, Arran."