Well, hello, everyone! I sincerely apologize for the wait on this one...you'd think I could manage to get a chapter up every now and then. Anyway, this chapter isn't as light-hearted as others...so be aware. Oddly enough I invisioned this to be one of the more amusing ones...that having been said, read and enjoy!
A/N: Thanks so much to everybody that is reading this, favoriting, putting on alerts. Really, you guys have continued to brighten my days when I see that people are still enjoying these. So yeah, you're awesome! (and that is why you have a chapter a day early...or several months late depending on how you look at it)
Deep Enough to Dream, audrey, spanderfan, DazedinLife, (none yet), Taryn Streambattle, rolletti, Metonomia, Wildfire2, Mary, Arquenniel, sexyredhead, LunaNigra, Autumnia, captive1princess, lailyspenstar, and anyone else I might be forgetting--Thank you for your reviews!! I love hearing from you!
audrey: Thanks for the many reviews! Yes, they did escape their escort. I left the details intentionally vague so you can come up with your own idea of how, where, etc. :) Nysha has been one of my favorites (probably why it was one of the longest chapters). I'm so happy that you're enjoying it!
(none yet): Thanks for the reviews! Yay! I'm making you laugh! That's wonderful! Opinions are good. :) Hmm, I'll have to see if I can work in a Beavers appearance at least. Who knows? Mr. Tumnus just might show up, too! :)
A/N #2: As always, if there is any character you want to show up, any ideas...just let me know and I'll see what I can do. :) Your thoughts are always welcome.
And now, the poll result chapter...
Chapter 13: General
Cair Paravel had seen hard times. Two winters past the end of the Witch's rule and Aslan's coming, there was a terrible storm that left half the burrows buried in feet of snow. A year after that a drought had left her subjects parched for even a pitcher of cool water. Even later still, a feverish illness spread like wildfire through the lowlands.
But never had the glorious city seen such a bane as this.
This shook her very roots.
'This' was both King Edmund and King Peter bedridden with a sickness of the lungs, sequestered to the same room to keep the infection contained.
A fortnight had passed and Cair Paravel was struggling to remain whole.
Oreius was now one of the only creatures that would dare venture into the royal wing of the palace. The enormous drapes had been closed to keep out the growing winter chill and crackling fires were stoked in the main rooms by the monarchs themselves, as the wary serving maids couldn't be found past the great hall.
Occasionally a page would come skittering down the corridors, some document or empty dish in hand. Hailing them, however, was about as simple as stopping a roaring minotaur.
And so Oreius found himself doing such menial tasks as fetching the Queen's supper and bringing it to the massive study where the High King would have sat, had he been hale.
He entered quietly, not wishing to startle the Queens in the stillness of the palace. He found very little movement and even less sound. In fact, if he didn't look closely he might have thought the study to be deserted.
The candelabras were low, wax dripping down the silver moldings and pooling on the fine tablecloths. Piles of books, parchment, and inkpots nearly hid Queen Susan away, her dark hair mussed and eyes weary. Queen Lucy was missing almost entirely. Only her freckled nose and the tips of her heels were visible beneath what looked to be a series of maps strewn out over the floor.
As he navigated his way past the inky Sea of Calmor and the Forests of Archenland, he remembered that the little Queen had always preferred the lush carpets to a stern desk. She stirred as his hooves cleared the center of the room, and suddenly two round eyes appeared.
"Oreius, are my brothers well yet?" She sounded very displeased and Oreius began to wonder just how long the study had been occupied.
The general shook his head sadly. "Nay, my Queen, I fear the sickness has taken a very great hold on your brothers. It will take time to shake it free."
"Bother…I told Peter I should have used the cordial."
"Lucy," Queen Susan's voice carried more weariness than Oreius had heard before, "we've already discussed this. The cordial is only to be used to cure mortal wounds."
"Rinklerhim said that fluid had built up in their lungs. That sounds very mortal to me."
The elder Queen sighed softly. "Just let them rest and they'll be better before you know it."
Queen Lucy wrinkled her nose in distaste and turned back to her maps.
For his part, Oreius placed the silver platter of dishes and steaming food on a low table to the side of the room, taking great care to remain unobtrusive on the small family 'discussion'. His care, however, became unneeded as the conversation dwindled away to the pop and crackle of the fireplace and the scratch of inky quill tips.
"Oreius?" the Gentle daughter of Eve passed a hand over her temple and sighed.
"My lady?"
"Those stacks there" she flapped her free hand towards the precarious piles of parchment hiding the High King's desk from sight, "are finally ready to be signed."
He reached for the closest. "Which…stack did you mean, precisely?"
"No, no, not that one. Those are to be thrown out. The one, the one," she leaned across the desk and snatched a pile near the grand chair where the King usually sat. "Here. Have Peter and Edmund—both of them, mind you—sign them, would you please?"
"As you wish, my lady."
Though Oreius had the distinct impression she heard his response she had yet to look up from her labors. A few papers curled through the air as she tossed them towards various piles. "I swear, once Peter's recovered I'll not let him out of my sight again until he's organized this hive," she mumbled, giving a sealed inkpot a forceful shove down the gleaming wood to clatter against a whole cluster of similarly closed inkpots.
The general had not gained his position by being ignorant of the condition of various situations. And his presence in this particular situation was no longer required. He hefted the pile, gathered the necessary writing utensils and made his way towards the door.
"And Oreius?"
He turned to gaze back at Queen Susan.
She paused, catching her lip and running her hands together. "Tell me if they're well?"
He dipped his head in respect. "As you wish, my lady."
The journey to the royal bedchambers was a rather bothersome one. Despite his years of service he hadn't borne a pile of papers that reached his chin and, in rather spectacular form, the pale sheets persisted in gently catching the air he stirred as he walked and escaping upon them.
In the end, he learned that one either had to walk very slowly so as to keep the pages still or use the pot of ink and sharpened quills he held in his free hand to weigh them down. He also had a moment to reflect, before entering the King's chambers, on the virtues of deserted hallways as his conduct had not been entirely befitting of a general in the retrieval of the vexing documents.
After very carefully opening the door he stepped inside the very room that half of Narnia thought to be a veritable battlefield, if the serving maids were to be believed.
They were not far off the mark.
The two Sons of Adam were sitting in their beds on opposite walls from the other, arms crossed, eyebrows drawn tightly together, and eyes harder than flint.
"Good day, my lords." Oreius searched for the proper words to breach the situation. He could not ask if they had slept well for it was past midday. He could not inquire as to if they had enjoyed their day for the answer was apparent in their seething glares. The Queen's request echoed back to him and the words were on his tongue before he could think better of it. "Has your health improved?"
Suddenly the two sets of eyes were pinned on him, wrathful and condescendingly intense.
"I see." The words tasted of wry understanding.
The eyes snapped back to their previous positions and Oreius wondered if animosity could be contagious even when the sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve were rooms away from each other.
"Is there anything you require?" He did not expect an answer and was most surprised when he was given one, though he really should have foreseen it.
The High King drew his arms over his chest, shoulders turning hard and fists bunching. "Yes, I require a long, healthy walk outside. Better yet a run through the forest. Fresh air."
Whatever their disagreement might have been, Edmund seemed to push it aside long enough to chip in, "or at the very least a new set of lungs."
"Indeed." Oreius raised an eyebrow and found he agreed heartily with both statements but knew they were equally impossible. "If I can provide nothing further for your comfort, I must then request that you take up this quill and sign these documents." He crossed the room and handed each son of Adam the proper pages.
"Wait a minute. I'm infirm. You can't expect me to sign all these." Edmund was the first to put up an argument.
King Peter was not far behind. "Our condition could be worsened."
Oreius very much doubted that but he refrained from vocalizing his thoughts and instead spoke of other things. "Your sister, Queen Susan, has requested that you both sign all of them."
That seemed to have an effect on them.
An increasingly well known fact was that, when provoked, Susan or Lucy could be as equally stubborn as either of their brothers and in such a situation as they now found themselves the daughters of Eve were not to be argued with.
After all, the books being regularly sent to King Peter and King Edmund for a leisure activity could easily be 'misplaced'. How long the days might seem then…
The two brothers seemed to realize this as well, and while they looked about as pleased as a skunk with a porcupine quill embedded in its back they set about opening their inkpots and wetting the tips of their quills.
A terse moment passed and then Edmund said, "Isn't this the marriage license you were to give permission to months ago?" He held up a sealed document sadly lacking in signatures.
Any marriage proposal between courtiers was traditionally approved by the monarchs and given a signed document upon the wedding day as a written blessing. It was little more than a formality but the Narnians treasured it and so the custom was reborn when the Kings and Queens took their thrones.
"So what if it is?" Peter growled from his bed, harshly dragging his quill across a page.
"Wasn't this supposed to be signed then?"
"I don't see anyone complaining."
"Well, maybe I am. These things are supposed to be signed before the wedding day."
"The signature was implied. I gave them the royal blessing."
Oreius cleared his throat. "I believe there are yet documents to be signed."
Again, he felt the full concentration of their heated glowers and did not waver. He had faced the screaming, writhing masses of the White Witch's army. He would not falter here.
There was a distinct air of displeasure and Oreius had an eerie sense that their ire with each other had suddenly been transferred towards him but, again, the sons of Adam lifted their quills and continued to form the letters of their name in swift jerks.
Twenty solid minutes passed as the papers were exchanged, Oreius the unfortunate ferry between the Kings, and each moment grew more and more ripe with frustration. Three times ink was spilt on the fine coverlets and when a fourth threatened to stain the carpets suspiciously near his hoof he decided that enough was enough.
He slipped out the door, giving ground not in retreat but…allowing the two to reconcile their differences before it became hazardous to his health.
And with that thought he cantered down the empty hallways towards the kitchen to find some nourishment for himself.
The evening meal had passed before Oreius found himself returning to fetch the signed documents. He supposed sufficient time had elapsed, even for a pair such as these.
And he was correct in his assessment. The pages were all signed and the room was still, the figures under the blankets quiet. Too quiet, in fact.
Oreius moved to the nearest bed and peered over the side to properly examine the inhabitant.
At first glance he thought he'd intruded upon a resting, recuperating monarch, upon a second, however, it was apparently clear that the pillows stuffed under the coverlets were not King Peter, though the straw for kindling the fire was momentarily convincing as tufts of the King's golden hair. A further inspection showed that the second bed was empty as well, a roll of dark yarn piled atop the pillow for effect.
Gathering the pages and wrapping them carefully in a satchel brought to keep them from flying off, Oreius began his trek down the halls, a steely determination to find the Kings and replace them to their bedchambers coiling in his chest.
This, unfortunately, was not the first time the brothers had made off from where the physician had firmly instructed them to remain. Usually when such a thing occurred there were only two logical places to look.
The kitchens or the stables.
Oreius was inclined to believe the latter was the culprit in this case.
King Peter was notoriously unable to remain indoors for more than a few hours and King Edmund was similarly unable to let his brother run off by himself.
Yes, they would be in the stables, trying to persuade Philip and Stelia to let them traverse the Narnian countryside. The only problem was that Philip and Stelia usually agreed, simply out of deference to their riders.
A shortcut through the servants quarters and Oreius could hear them now, scuffling along down the large corridors. They appeared to have dressed warmly, a small blessing, though it also appeared to be in great haste as Edmund was hopping along beside his brother, yanking his foot farther into his boot.
"Would you get that on already?" Peter sounded quite cross.
"I'm trying. It's this blasted lacing." He finally gave up moving at the same time and stopped, stomping down hard and finally tightening the last of the lacings.
Oreius reflected somewhat morosely that the young King's ankle seemed to have healed nicely. A fact that would make it considerably harder to keep the Kings corralled.
Peter had kept right on moving, unlatching a door to the courtyard and staring out into the moonlight. He seemed to be encouraged by what he saw as he plowed ahead, the door left standing open for his brother.
Oreius waited for a full minute past when the door had shut behind them before he clicked it open and ventured out. The wooden awning stretched out several feet past the door way and circled around the courtyard, providing cover in the rain and, in Oreius' case, deep shadows to hide in.
The Kings were halfway across the wide cobbled yard, breathing coming harder as their adrenaline fueled energy faded with each step. They continued on doggedly, gusts of chilly wind tugging at their cloaks.
Oreius knew his time was slipping away. He had to step out and prevent the Kings from injuring themselves in their half-healed state and he was about to do so when suddenly the High King lurched to a halt.
"Ed?" Peter's eyes were fixed on something in the air.
Feet dragging, Edmund turned back and waited for his brother to explain himself. It took but a moment for the realization to sink it.
Tiny, sparkling flakes of the whitest snow twirled down from the starlit sky, collecting in the narrows between the cobblestones and dusting the sons of Adam in a fine white powder.
"The first snow…" the younger King's voice was oddly quiet.
A moment passed and Oreius felt himself unconsciously retreating into the shadows.
The part of him that clamored to keep them in the warmth of the castle was quieted and he waited, feeling as though he had unintentionally intruded upon a private moment.
"Ed…" The High King's eyes drifted from the snowflakes to his brother.
His brother appeared deaf, limbs frozen as they were dotted white.
Another heartbeat passed and something changed. "Come on, Ed. The stables are just ahead." Peter snagged his brother's arm and gently tugged him forward, his voice was firm but quiet and it seemed to be enough for his brother.
King Edmund blinked. Once. Twice. And then he was walking again.
Oreius remained where he was and as he saw the two make plod along he realized that he wasn't going to stop them. Not tonight.
He was retreating towards another doorway, once leading to the great hall and eventually the study to return the documents he saw the brothers stop and look back. Coming to a quick halt he waited, watching as they glanced around them.
Drawing in a great breath, Edmund looked over at Pete. "Do you remember the stables being this far away?"
His brow wrinkled in thought, the moonlight shining off moisture on his temples. "Perhaps we'll sneak out again tomorrow. We could go riding then."
King Edmund nodded, his shoulders caving in what oddly seemed like relief. "We could even detour to the kitchens first and eat something more than broth and vegetables. I could have sworn I smelled spice cake baking yesterday."
The High King nodded satisfactorily and, leaning lightly against each other, they kicked up the dusting of snow as they traipsed back to the wooden doorway, warmth, and rest.
King Peter suddenly tensed. "Wait…spice cake? It wasn't spice cake. There was a distinct fruit tinge in the air. That, Ed, was a fruit bread. Apple or pear would be my guess."
"Was not. It didn't smell sweet enough to be fruit bread."
"It was! You could practically taste it!"
"Maybe you could…"
Peter gave Edmund a shove. "Oh, come off it."
Edmund shoved him right back. "You come off it."
Oreius felt a grin overtake his face as he watched the two brothers bicker all the way into the palace.
It seemed Cair Paravel would survive this, too.