AN: Warning |!| one not so nice word (aka: Bastard) that may offend people used in passing-I don't usually use it in my stories, but it really couldn't be helped this time. Much like my occational use of the word "ass" (by which, in my stories, I never mean as a curse) this word, too, is not intended as a swear. But, if anyone wants to get on my case about it, I ask you to please remember first that this fanfic is rated T.
"Behold your queen, Father," growled Rilian, bitterly, glaring at the two white-as-salt-faced figures in the bed, wrapped up in each other's arms.
For a split-second, Lucy could have sworn, even in the lousy, flickering candle's light, that she saw Lord Sopespian grin before forcing the corners of his lips down into a solid pout. Prince Rabadash was smiling, too, but that was because he was dead-drunk and quite giddy; one could seriously doubt if he even knew what he was seeing.
The Lone Islanders knew all too well, however, and-still believing the accusations against the queen from before-glanced over at King Caspian to see how he would deal with this treachery. Worse, none of them-Caspian included-had heard the whole conversation; only the last few words Lucy had said.
At first, Lucy could not will herself to look at her husband's face. She was too afraid of what she would see there. Rabadash was a perfect fool, Lord Sopespian a rotten human-being, the Lone Islanders little more than strangers, and Rilian, well, she had seen enough anger in him before to know what to expect to some degree, but with Caspian, it was different. His older, graver face-clearly upset-gave far less away than those of the others standing beside him.
"I warned you, Sire, when you insisted that we show them mercy and faith," said Lord Sopespian, "there would be consequences."
One of the Lone Islanders, who Lucy thought had a very nice face, and always regretted afterwards that she never had learned his name, said, "We can't accuse the Queen without proof."
"How long are we going to hide behind that excuse?" demanded Lord Sopespian. "Until she's carrying that traitor's bastard?"
Edmund had, while they were speaking, let go of Lucy, and she stumbled off of the bed and stood up, her knees weak and her eyes tear-filled, finally daring to look at her husband. Would he defend her? Would her realize she had never meant to hurt him? That she couldn't help how she felt about Ed, seeing as her fate had always seemed entangled with his from the first? His expression was so very tight, clearly laced with bitterness, but in a different way than Rilian's face was.
"Your Majesty," said Edmund, getting up, his cheeks damp again.
Quite unexpectedly, Caspian's fist shot out and stuck Edmund in the jaw, knocking him down back onto the bed.
Lucy gasped and her hands flew to her mouth.
The kind Lone Islander winced, but the rest showed no signs of even the mildest forms of pity.
"Take him back to the dungeon," ordered the king, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he spoke slowly and dangerously. "The queen shall be escorted back to her recent chambers where she will change clothes and then someone will bring her to the throne room. There I will speak with her alone."
In all likelihood, Edmund would have feared for Lucy's safety and would have tried to fight to protect her as he had done the last time they had been caught in a bed together, but he was still weak from the illness-inducing poison, in spite of the fact that he was steadily recovering, and before he could stagger up off of the bed after being hit so hard, the guards had arrived and bound up his hands. At least he had some comfort in the fact that Caspian was going to speak to Lucy personally this time, hoping that she might be able to convince him of what they truly had-and had not-done, but he was still quite terrified. It must have taken a lot for Caspian to get a pardon for a so-called treasonous queen the first time; and the question was largely: would he be able to do so again? Would he even want to?
Taking one last look at Edmund as he was hauled off, Lucy saw a dark bruise forming where Caspian had hit him, and felt like throwing up.
Rilian spat on Edmund as he was dragged passed and the queen, though she would never, felt the most compelling urge to smack him for doing that. How dare he! He didn't know; he didn't understand. True, Edmund had hurt Rilian's hand pretty badly that night they had jumped the drawbridge, and the prince was under the impression that the traitor was sleeping with his stepmother, but still. At least, somewhat to Lucy's relief, the prince didn't hit him. Spiting was a sign of disgrace; horrid to watch, sure; but not nearly as heart-wrenching as seeing the man she loved get hit twice in one night.
When the queen was taken back to the little white-walled rooms she had hoped never to have to live in again, her ladies-in-waiting all glared at her; their eyes shinning with fresh bouts of hatred. They said nothing, ready to help her undress and change into something less fancy, but it didn't take a genius to see that they all despised her now. Even the sweeter-natured ones looked liked they would be willing to carry her kicking and screaming to the scaffold if given permission.
"I can undress myself," Lucy told them quietly, fearing that they might 'accidentally' strangle her with a ribbon or lace her bodice up too tightly if she let them come too close. "You can leave me."
They curtsied stiffly, scowling all the while, and went into another of the sealed-off rooms, their gowns sweeping curtly behind them.
Little tears rolling down her face, Lucy tore the velvet gown off of her body and dropped it on the floor where it rested in a pathetic heap of gold and purple. Still in only her under-clothes, she wrapped one of her hands around the dagger-pendant, silently praying that the guards weren't hurting him.
All of her dresses were very fine, most of them fairly new, but Lucy finally managed to find something suitable, older and less elaborate, though it too was velvet. She hadn't worn it in a while; but it looked very familiar. As soon as she slipped it on, smoothing out the ruffled fabric and the slightly-torn bit of lace at the collar, the queen remembered what she had last worn it for. It was what she had been wearing the day she'd dubbed Edmund a knight of Narnia. Weary, her clothes tossed on but not yet properly laced and buttoned, Queen Lucy collapsed in a corner by the fireplace, pulled her knees to her chest, and wept harder still.
Then there was a knock and the sound of someone clearing their throat. Trufflehunter stood on the other side of her door, his recalling face the first one she had seen that was not angry with her, however grave and anxious it looked. He told her to come with him, leading her down the corridors which suddenly felt so cold and long (she could see her breath on the air and feel her heart beating like a drum).
Once she was at the throne-room doors, the badger bowed and left her.
Before she even knocked, Caspian knew she was out there. "Come in here and close the door behind you."
Lucy obeyed and pushed the door open, slowly walking in, looking for her husband. She finally found him standing with his back to her, his hands on a long desk-like oak table spread out with paperwork, official documents, and scrolls.
Remembering his orders, she shut the door behind herself and waited for him to speak.
"Do you have any idea what I went through to spare you?" he asked slowly, his voice stopping pointedly on each word. "Do you have any idea how hard I had to fight to save you from being sent away to spend the rest of your life in miserable confinement? You know, there were even those who wanted not only for you to be removed from being queen, but also your head on a pike. Do you have any notion of how difficult it was for me to go against them?"
Lucy stood trembling, her lips opened to speak, though she hardly knew what she was trying to say, but nothing came out.
The king turned and faced her now, his brow dangerously low. "Answer me."
She couldn't; her throat was dry, it hurt.
"Now, Lucy," said the king through his teeth.
"I-I'm sorry," stammered the little queen.
"You're sorry?" His glare hardened, his voice becoming much louder. "I went through unimaginable hardships to spare your life for no other reason than my respect and affection for you, and in return the moment you are free you go flying into that boy's arms declaring your love for him in front of officials whom I cannot politically handle seeing me as weak, and you're sorry?"
"I never meant to-"
"Stop defending yourself!" Caspian shouted, angrily sweeping a stack of papers and a very heavy tome off of the table. They fell to the floor with a thud. Lucy jumped involuntarily. "You are my wife, not his! Do you understand that?"
"Y-yes," she understood that only too well.
"Was there anything you ever asked for that I wouldn't give you?" he demanded in a tone that made it clear that the question was rhetorical. "I never treated you badly, I never did anything to hurt you. So why do you feel the constant need to betray me?"
"We never-" Lucy tried.
"You really expect me to believe that?" Caspian snorted in disbelief.
"Yes, because it's the truth," she insisted tearfully.
"The truth," said the king, shaking his head.
"Edmund Philippe is not a traitor, not like you think he is."
"If I were you," said Caspian, "I would not waste my time defending him, considering the dangerous situation you find your own self in."
"What about your first wife?" The words came out before Lucy could think clearly enough to stop them. "Wouldn't you have defended her?"
King Caspian looked like he'd been smacked across the face. "Don't you ever presume to drag her into this, Lucy. Never! Do you hear? She, at least, was a loyal wife. She never gave me a moment of worry-she understood what was at stake."
"She loved you," said Lucy.
"And you don't?"
Lucy's tongue froze in her mouth. How was she supposed to answer that? How could she ever tell him, especially now, that although she did love him, as her kind, caring husband and as Narnia's king, it wasn't quite the same way she felt about Edmund.
"You realize what you've done, don't you?"
She said nothing, waiting for him to go on.
"Edmund Philippe will have to be sentenced to death."
"No!" cried Lucy, taking a step backwards.
"How do you expect me to save him now?" Caspian groaned impatiently, vexed at her surprise. "Didn't you know? You would be considered lucky to keep your own head after what happened."
"Don't kill him, please." Lucy pleaded, shaking all over. "Please."
The king closed his eyes. "Lucy, I am sorry, I know this pains you, but you brought this on yourself."
"He's innocent," insisted the little queen, tearfully.
"If by innocent you mean he was caught in bed with you upon two separate occasions, snuck out with you at night and took you to Aslan knows where, and knew how to get into your sleeping chambers without being seen, then yes, he is innocent." His tone was bitter and sarcastic. "I under-estimated him. I thought that after sparing his life I would gain, if not his affection, than at least his gratitude, enough that he wouldn't make the same stupid mistake again. Enough that I wouldn't find my wife in his arms. Foolish, I know, to expect a bit of loyalty. All the more so on the one night I needed to back up my decision to spare you both."
"Caspian, it wasn't like that," wept Lucy. "Please don't hurt him."
"That necklace you wear all the time," said Caspian, realizing she was wearing no other jewelry besides those seed-pearls with the dagger pendant she seemed to favor so greatly, "it's from him isn't it?"
She nodded.
"Take it off," he ordered.
"What?" Lucy's brows furrowed.
"You heard me, take it off."
Lucy's hand went protectively to the pendant.
"Obey me at once."
Her fingers trembled as they reached behind her neck and undid the clasp.
"Put it on the table."
Her neck felt so bare without it, she couldn't help realizing as she set it down, glancing over at Caspian who's rage had not subsided this time.
"Please don't let them kill him," she whispered, her fingers sliding away from the seed-pearls as slowly as possible.
"You must know I can do nothing, this isn't only a personal matter anymore-it's a political nightmare."
"Caspian-"
"You may leave me now," said the king, sighing deeply, flicking his fingers in a shooing motion.
"I-"
"Now, Lucy."
Jadedly, the little queen curtsied quickly and then left the throne room. She had nothing now. Her husband was furious with her; her seed-pearls and dagger pendant, held so dear, had been taken away; her country was in political shambles; her own life in possible danger; and, worst of all, Edmund was doomed. And Lucy could not imagine a world without Edmund. There was hardly world enough for a queen and a lover who was not her king; but, paradoxly, there simply could be no world for Lu without Ed living somewhere in it.
About three hours after his talk with Lucy, King Caspian went down into the dungeon-there was someone else involved in this matter that he also had to speak with. Even if it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. After all, what man actually enjoys talking to his wife's lover?
When he arrived at the cell and stood in the open doorway, the king found Edmund crouched in the corner next to a small inscription about Aslan, winter, and mercy that had been there for a while.
"You, boy, get up!" Caspian ordered harshly.
Edmund turned around half-way, saw who had addressed him, stood up, and bowed. "Your Majesty,"
"What do you have to say for yourself?" Caspian demanded, his voice cracking, straining, and trembling as he spoke. "And don't you dare say 'sorry', I'll beat you black and blue and tear your lungs right out of your throat if you say that-I have heard enough of that."
Edmund blinked at him.
"Why do you not answer me?"
"I've no wish to have my lungs torn out, Sire."
His dark eyes flashing with anger, Caspian hurled the seed-pearl necklace with the dagger pendant at Edmund. "I believe this is yours."
The necklace struck him on the side of the face before falling to the hard ground of the cell with a faint clink. He winced from the brief, stinging pain, but did not react at all otherwise.
"Did it mean nothing to you, Edmund," said the king, his tone a bit softer now, "that I spared your life once? Did it mean nothing before that when you became one of my knights? You know, back then I would have considered you a friend as well as a subject."
Edmund fought the urge to say, "I'm sorry," thinking of the state of his lungs, wanting to keep them where they were. Somehow he did not doubt King Caspian's ability to tear him limb from limb if properly provoked.
"Why didn't you just kill me and take her, if you so wished to destroy my country? Would that not have been easier?"
"I wouldn't do that, Your Majesty," Edmund dared to say.
"But you would take my queen from right under my nose and make my country weak in the eyes of others," said the king, sourly.
"Even if I was the monster you seem to think I am, Sire, you know Lucy would never be with someone who harmed you. She's loyal to you."
Caspian scoffed bitterly. "No, Edmund Philippe, she is loyal to you-and only you. Or are you so blind you cannot see it?"
"It isn't," faltered Edmund, "as you think."
"I cannot make her happy," Caspian said, looking hurt as well as upset now; "no matter what I do, I can't make her happy. I am the bloody king of Narnia, anything she asks for is hers for the taking, but I can't make her happy. And you-you of all people-can? It's unbelievable."
"If you understood her, Your Majesty, you would see it was quite believable," said Edmund before he stopped to think about what he was implying.
"I am her husband," he said, glowering and folding his arms across his chest. "Who could understand her better?"
Edmund knew he daren't answer that.
"What is it she wants from you that I can't give her? You aren't anyone anymore, and if you saw how she reacts at the sound of your name-"
"I'm still me," said Edmund. "Title or no title, knighthood or no knighthood, I'm still myself."
"You're just a boy," Caspian pointed out sullenly.
"Forgive me, Sire." he lowered his head.
"I already had," the king answered tersely.
"I didn't mean spare me," clarified the former knight, "I meant forgive me."
Caspian nodded. "Maybe I will, someday."
"I know you would be appalled at my asking, but it's important-"
"What do you want?"
"A last request?"
"What is it?" sighed the king.
"Take care of Lucy, don't hurt her, and know she hasn't done you wrong." There were tears in Edmund's eyes as he asked for this.
"And what of the things I know?" asked King Caspian, coldly.
"Meaning?"
"I know the two of you were sneaking around."
"If that's what you want to believe," said Edmund, "tell yourself that. But I think, eventually, Sire, you'll know Lucy was innocent. No one will tell you any differently than they are telling you now, but you'll know. That is the Lion's mercy, I think I've figured it out, that he grants the king the ability to save his country, but also to see the truth in time. When the light is steady again and stops flickering-everyone will see."
Caspian's eyes drifted over to the little lamppost engraving Edmund had done before, shook his head, and left the prisoner alone with his thoughts once more.
AN: Hey, any of you reviewers up for a challenge? I want to know if any of you can guess which famous tragedy-romance couple (OTHER THAN Tristan and Isolde) I loosely based parts of Edmund and Lucy's relationship in this fanfic on? I'll give you a hint: they're in a novella from India. AND (hint number two) parts of the earlier chapters of this fic were inspired by that book. If any of you can guess, put in it in your review. I'll be extremely impressed if anyone gets this right.