Disclaimer: I view this story a bit like a wayward teenager, and acknowledge a wry kinship with it; but it's certainly not something I own.
Beta'd by trustingHim171
Rilian has every intention of going straight to the water (taking breakfast and possibly lunch with him) when he wakes, but there's a knock on his door while he's shoving his arms through the long sleeves, and it's a very polite guard asking if His Majesty is ready to christen the four floating ships.
With difficulty, Rilian keeps the curses in his head from reaching his mouth. This is not the way he pictured spending the day on the water. "Send someone to ask if the Lady Ileana wishes to see this as well, and if she does, let her know I'll meet her at the stables. Also, do send someone to ask about breakfast for both of us."
"I'll send someone to fetch the Lord Drinian as well, if that sounds good to Your Majesty."
Rilian turns from reaching for Ileana's blue stone. Looking the guard up and down, from his polished boots to the helm on his head, he comments, "Captain Etmun is to be commended. You're holding a stone-face quite well, but your mouth is trying to twitch. Go run your errands, and yes, fetch the Lord Drinian as well, young insolence."
"Your pardon, Your Majesty; perhaps Jarmu rubbed off on us."
Rilian sweeps the stone into his pocket, pulls on his boots and laces them, then heads for the stables. Lady Ileana—with Peri, Rilian was surprised to see—is already there, standing by four saddled horses. One of Rilian's eyebrows rises.
"Oh, Peri has the day off today, and I thought she'd enjoy an outing as well," Ileana explains before Rilian has a chance to ask.
"And I thought she could use some support on the walk down here." One arm loops through Ileana's, and the Mermaid is leaning against her friend.
"Ride with me?" Rilian asks quietly, and Ileana's face lights up.
"Of course. Where are we going, by the way?"
"Before any ship may be completely outfitted, or indeed used for training or sailing, it must be named, the words carved into the prow, a Turtle swim beneath it, and the mast scaled all the way to the top. The sooner these are in use the better, so we go to name all four today."
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? This sounds lovely."
"Because I forgot about the entire thing," Rillian mutters, and Ileana laughs. As he helps her up the mounting block, he asks quietly, "Is it well with you, to be so close to the sea but not on it?"
Pausing with one foot on the highest stair, Ileana faces him as she gives his arm a gentle squeeze. "It will be good to see the waves so close once more. I was not sure—" She breaks off, and swallows. "Thank you for thinking of it. And—you need not be afraid. There should be no curses today."
"I had not thought there would be, Lady." He helps her mount, and swings up behind her. She's still frighteningly light, swaying, and he puts both arms around her to keep her in place. Anything else he might say is lost in an approaching diatribe coming from the mouth of his greatest counsellor.
"I know tradition has us do this in the morning, but I still say it'd be better for all concerned if it was an afternoon—oh, there you are, Your Majesty. Lady. Any luck on the water last night?"
"Your favourite horse is over there," Rilian answers Drinian, nodding his head towards the patient stableboys. "And no," he adds more quietly.
"Perhaps I'll join you. In a different boat, just out there looking. I've got my strength back."
"Any help would be welcome. But this must be done first; shall we depart?"
"I'm up, I'm up," Drinian grunts, sending his horse for the entrance and waving Peri along with him. "I haven't seen you in a while. No, no, let the lovebirds ride a bit behind. Tell me how you've been. Recovered? Any nightmares?" His voice grows softer as they get a bit ahead, and Rilian kicks his horse to a slow walk.
"He seems quite happy," Ileana observes, watching them.
"He got some news he's rather pleased by, I think."
"Oh?"
"Ah, oh, that—I can't say, not just yet." To his embarrassment, Rilian finds himself stammering like Piram when caught by surprise.
Ileana laughs, that rippling, quiet sound, and Rilian relaxes. "Then I shall wait. I expect I shall hear it soon?"
"Tomorrow, if I can manage it, Lady. If I can." Though the instant the words leave his mouth, Rilian realises he has no idea how he's going to propose. If he finds her father tonight, well and good, but what then? He should propose under the stars. Yes, definitely under the stars. He'll get a ring from the treasury—though, does Ileana know what it will symbolise? He'll need to ask her father what is customary under the waves.
"Rilian? Rilian? King Rilian?"
"Sorry, I—my thoughts ran away with me."
"It must have been a swift swim, to get so far out. Are you going to be the one to scale the mast?"
"Certainly not! Often the sailors of the ship will make it a race, and my skills are far inferior to theirs! The Mice most often win, if there aren't any Squirrel or Rabbit sailors. Though many sailors say any animal that jumps up the mast is cheating, even if they're just using their Aslan-given gifts."
She laughs again, and leans back against him. "I will enjoy watching that."
"You will do more than watch, Lady, if it pleases you. I meant to ask you to name one of the ships."
"Really?" She pulls herself up, turning a little to look at him, grabbing his arm for balance. "I may name one?" He nods, and has to restrain the impulse to kiss her as she smiles. They are not engaged yet. While some Narnians kiss before then, Kings are often held to much higher—more impossible, Rilian thinks, and most unfair—standards.*
"Can Peri and Drinian each name one as well? You said there are four ships, are there not?"
"If you wish it, Lady, they certainly may."
Turning back towards the path, Ileana claps her hands and then calls for their friends. She offers Peri the first ship, and on Drinian and Rilian's insistence she takes the second—which will be the one she inspected, at her request. Drinian will go third ("age before wisdom, old friend," Rilian insists while grinning), and Rilian last.
The sailors line the beach as they arrive, beside the light planks that run from the beach to the anchored ships. Rilian escorts Ileana in the front, keeping a tight hold of her hand, for she still walks with slow steps, and he doesn't know if she will survive the first hit and the transformation, if she falls into the sea. Peri bounces behind them, with Drinian after her talking to the new Captain, a Leopard named Pereth. Peri, true to the somewhat-inappropriate-enthusiasm of a young girl, names the ship Pots and Pans. Drinian has a coughing fit, and the Leopard's fur bristles for a moment before falling, but Rilian can't take back his promise, and Ileana doesn't realise the name might be inappropriate. It's carved into the prow, and an enterprising sailor fetches a pot for the Turtle to wear on his head as he dives, to much laughter. The others fetch still more pots and pans for the racing sailors to wear, and by the time Pereth leaps to the top, it's a shipwide joke.
Still, Ileana's chosen name, the Breaking Wave, seems much more shiplike. Drinian, with a smile at Ileana, names his The Enchanting Mermaid, though the sailors grumble about carving something so long into the prow. By then everyone is hot and hungry, Ileana shakes when she's not leaning on Rilian's arm, though she refuses his suggestion that she leave early as the sailors beg her to stay. Rilian's naming Under the Stars is done as swiftly as is decent. A very late lunch follows, and then a shaking of each sailor's hand and wishing them fair winds and pleasant voyages—something Ileana changes to strong currents and a swift return, and then, at last, Rilian can take Ileana back to the Cair, far later in the day than he wants it to be.
She's panting, pale, and tired. Peri hovers behind them as they walk towards the horses, muttering about how the light is going and they should go back quickly. Rilian surrenders the Mermaid to her arms so he can mount first, to hold Ileana in place; it takes Drinian and Peri both to get her up where Rilian can lift her.
Rilian holds her waist with one arm and boots the horse with the other; they're back at Cair in as little time as the horse can make it. He calls for the stableboy, dismounts, and catches Ileana as she falls. It's hard to hold her when she moves to stand, but Rilian sweeps both her legs over one arm. "I'm taking you to bed. You did too much today, Lady."
"It was my last chance," she whispers, but she stops fighting. "Rilian—I don't want to spend the last four days of my life sleeping. One thing a day—that's all I'm going to try to do."
"Then try something shorter." Rilian's climbing the stairs as they speak; he doesn't look down. But he can feel Ileana's two arms wind around his neck and feels her face press into his shoulder.
"Please don't be angry," come her muffled words. "I didn't know it would be so long. But Rilian, I can't, I can't just stop living because of fear. I finally learned to trust Love enough that fear doesn't have a hold on me. I'm not going to let it be my chain these last few days. I refuse." Her voice trails off.
Rilian slows. Looking down, all he can see is her hair; it's soft when he presses his own head against it. "I'm going to try very hard not to let them be the last. I have a plan, Ileana."
They're at her room, and he pauses outside her door. "Ileana?" She doesn't answer; when he lifts his arm to move her head, her eyes are closed. He puts her in her own bed, waits till Peri arrives to care for her, and leaves for the stable.
He and Drinian head right for the boats, arriving as the sun sets.
"I'll take this one, you take that one?"
"No—come with me."
"Two different directions covers more of the sea." But Drinian pauses, his hand on his chosen boat, to hear Rilian's argument.
"I—have a plan. It will work better if I have someone to keep the boat steady." Rilian avoids looking at Drinian. His plan makes sense, it's the only sure way to find a Merman or Mermaid—but it does sound a bit insane out loud.
"I'm not going to like this plan, am I."
The flat tone doesn't really invite an answer, so Rilian just shakes his head and begins dragging his boat towards the water.
Pushing the boat into the sea, they drag it over the first sandbars, hopping in when it's finally far enough out.
"Where to?" Drinian asks.
"North." That's where he's seen the tails, flashing in the starlight. With two people rowing the sea speeds by, and the last of the purple and gold light is turning navy as Rilian drags his oars into the boat and reaches into his pocket. The blue stone feels firm in his fingers; when he closes his hand, the song of the sea overwhelms him. It's a chorus that matches the sound all around him, and it takes him a moment to remember how to breathe.
"Your Majesty?"
The horizon is dark, the stars just beginning to come out, and there are no signs of Merfolk's tails. Rilian wonders if he should wait, if it would be wiser till he's at least seen them.
But Ileana fell asleep before she even reached her room, and she's expecting to die, and somehow Rilian feels like each moment he waits is another moment risked.
"Rilian, lad, you're too quiet. That's rarely an encouraging sign."
Rilian looks back. Drinian's white hair looks pale in the dark, and both wrinkled hands rest on the oars. "I can summon a Merman or Mermaid."
Drinian's head rears back. "Then do it, lad!"
"I will. I just—keep the boat steady. Keep it here."
"Where are you going?" Suspicion creeps back into the words, and Rilian's hand closes over the stone.
"I have to be in the water."
"How deep?"
"I don't know."
"For how long?"
"I don't know that, either. But the point of the stone"—Drinian's eyes flash to his hand—"is to summon them before I drown, so, there's a good chance it won't be…long."
The moment of silence drags; Rilian comes up with so many instant excuses, but says none of them. His counsellor knows what is riding on this.
When Drinian breaks the silence, it's with a sober request. "Give me the stone."
"What?"
"If it's the stone that summons them, it might just as well be me as my King." He draws his oars into the boat as he speaks.
Rilian stares at him for a moment, as this faithful old man who served his father so faithfully and wants to take the risks for Caspian's son.
But Ileana is Rilian's love, and so the King dives over the side before Drinian sets down the oars.
The water is cold, and they're out deep enough that Rilian goes down and down, the bottom out of reach. And then Rilian ceases to move, because he knows that takes less breath, and already his lungs feel like bags stuffed to the seams with air.
He's kept his eyes open, though most of the water is murkier than the sky, and he nearly drops the stone when it begins to glow. Keeping one finger around it—and ignoring his lungs, which are not at all happy—Rillian looks at it. It glows like the heart of a star, the white with the edge of blue, and the song of the sea changes. It's the cry of a gull, the moan of a whale, and the pitiful squealing of a baby turtle; there's nothing of water in it, only the living crying for help.
The fish respond first, orange, silver, or black shapes circling around him. If Rilian hadn't repeated, over and over, that he must not let out air, he would have gasped. They're beautiful, reflecting the light of the still-glowing stone. Small mouths and noses begin pushing him towards the surface. Rilian lets them at first, the gentle touches not moving him at all, something almost tickling. But more and more fish join the nudges, and Rilian has to swim, to use up his air, trying to stay deep. He has to breathe! But he has to swim, to stay put, he has to. He hasn't found a Merman yet. He can't go.
Two hands grab his arm, pulling him towards the surface. Drinian, Rilian thinks, trying to pull away. He knows I've been down too long. But the hands are strong, and seconds later Rilian's head breaks the surface. The hands let go, and Rilian breathes in and out, in and out, gasping, pushing his hair out of his eyes. He turns furiously on Drinian.
The head next to him has short dark hair, and the shadowed eyes are a little too large to be human. "Breathe," the man says. It's deeper than Ileana's, and wilder, with the strength of a storm at sea, but it holds that same rise and fall of the waves. "Breathe, mortal."
Rilian looks down, and a silver tail flashes in the fading light of the stone.
The stone. Rilian tucks it deep in his pocket before beginning to tread water. Hesitating, he thinks of a way to begin this conversation. "Thank you."
There's a moment's pause. "Let me take you back to your boat before we begin discussing such things." One large hand reaches out, and Rilian finds himself tucked under the man's arm, the hand under Rilian's armpit. "Take in much air and hold it."
Opening his mouth, Rilian obeys, and then they are off.
Ileana had swam with him once, but Rilian knows, now, that she was being gentle. The speed is as fast as a Stag's pace, and they reach the boat in moments.
"Rilian!" Drinian exclaims, a curse bitten off after it.
"Yes," Rilian gasps.
"I will lift him in." Between Drinian's reaching arms and the Merman's strong lift, Rilian tumbles into the boat seconds later without upsetting it. The sky is dark and studded with stars, and the wood is hard under his fingers. He's suddenly glad to be once more in the air, beneath a visible sky. He pulls himself up on the bench.
It feels like there's three in the boat; the Merman rests his folded arms on the side, as Ileana once did. He is staring at Rilian.
"You offered your thanks." There's a quick intake of breath, and the Merman's hands clench around his elbows. "I ask, for those thanks, that you tell me why you have a stone that captures my daughter's voice."
There's a thousand answers to that—because she loves me, she made it for me, surely you know that, because I wanted to hear that sound after she described it, because I was looking for you, because she wants me safe—and Rilian doesn't know which to say, where to begin.
A short laugh, and Drinian is shaking his head. "You wanted her father."
Rilian takes another deep breath, trying to brush his hair out of his face once again and look a little presentable. He's handled treaties, law cases, Dwarf disputes—he brings all that control to bear, and clears his throat. "Your daughter gave it to me. Pardon me for using it, but I—had no other means to reach you."
"You were looking for me, specifically?"
"Yes. You see—your daughter came on land."
Holding up one hand, the Merman cuts him off. "Wait. If you will. Ileana's mother should hear this as well." He lets go of the boat and falls back, splashing into the water. The sudden silence feels awkward.
"Well done, lad." Drinian's voice is subdued. "You found who you were looking for." A pause. "I don't envy you the asking you'll have to do. What a ship's captain he would make!" Rilian nods, but doesn't feel like speaking; there's a part of him that wants to save all his words for her parents, because the father looks quite stern, and perhaps he doesn't want to lose his daughter—but for that same reason, surely, surely, he'll tell Rilian how to save her?
Two heads breach the surface, the short dark-haired one a split moment ahead. The second head is much smaller, and the wet hair shines a muted gold—a very familiar gold. Rilian looks with surprise as the mother also rests on the edge of the boat. There are faint wrinkles around her eyes, and her look is older, but there's a frailness in the tiny features that Rilian has never seen, even in Ileana's worst moments.
He bows as best he can on the bench, and the boat rocks.
"Move to the other side," Drinian mutters, pulling him back, and they balance the weight of the two Merfolk.
"You have our daughter's heart?" the mother asks. Her voice pierces Rilian's heart; all the tears ever wept, all the pain that words alone could not express, are held in the single song, the short sentence she speaks.
"I do. She gave it to me, almost a month ago."
"Twenty six days ago." The father says, says as someone who has counted every day and hour.
"Yes. I—do you know anything of what has happened, since she came on land?"
Father and mother do not look at each other, but each reaches out one hand, and clasps the other's; a dark bracelet circles the mother's wrist.
"The Merfolk may not see one who chooses the land, till the thirty days are up, that the wave crash clean and full on the shore; that the whole heart be devoted to winning the new life. We may come only when the choice draws to a close, to celebrate—or to return the body to the sea." His voice aches, trembles; Rilian feels the pain as high as a tidal wave.
"Did you not know this?" the mother asks. "Did your legends not say?"
This. This will be hard to tell, Rilian knows. So he draws on his courtesy, his wisdom, and all that Kingship has taught him. "We lost your legends long ago. That is why I am here—she will not tell me how to save her, and I—I want to. I hoped that the Merman or Maid who saved me might tell me more, tell me what to do."
They say nothing.
"Can't you tell me?" Rilian asks desperately. "You are not blinded by love of me, your answers impart no risk. You are not even on land! Can't you see that I only want to help, to save her?"
He's looking at the father, trying to convey all he wants to do, and so when the mother's voice speaks it almost startles him.
"We may tell you what your legends once said. We are in the sea, and there are stories we are allowed to tell. Yet know this, Son of Adam, that you still may not be able to save her." She is staring at him, her large eyes seeking to see his soul. "But your care for her gives me hope."
"I care much for her." Rillian swallows. "I came with a twofold purpose, and my first is how to save her life, for that is more pressing, but after—after that, I thought to ask of you still more. Your daughter won my heart, even as I won hers, and I came to ask you for your consent to marry her."
It's there, said, hanging in the air, all his hopes—his pressing desperation and his hope, said out loud, and somehow still there.
The mother rips her hand out of her husband's, pushing herself up on the edge of the boat with both hands, and suddenly she's arching through the air above them, starlight glinting in the drops flinging from her tail; they fall on Rilian like rain. She splashes into the other side, disappearing into the water, and the only sound is her high and sweet laughter. Rilian looks to the father as the boat rocks.
"You have not told Ileana of your second purpose, have you?" he asks, amusement threading in his tone. Rilian doesn't know how they switched, suddenly, from pain to amusement, it leaves him reeling, but he hears Drinian take in a breath as if the older man has realised something.
"It is a custom of those on land, to ask the father before one asks the daughter, for then she has the final say."
"And by such a choice you may save her," the father says softly. The rocking of the boat subsides slowly, but it's beginning to turn in slow circles; gold hair and silver scales flash through the water, first on one side, then the other, as the mother swims around and around in joy. "Love is what makes a Merman live. Most of us love the sea, love it with all we are, and we cannot leave it and live. But a few of us—the wanderers, the seekers, the ones with ears to hear other songs, to swim in other currents—sometimes give their hearts to something else."
"Or someone else," Rilian whispers, and the Merman nods.
"The sea never loves us back, but it gives us all we need just the same. The coral for our homes, the seaweed for our curtains, the water for our roads and bodies and movement; we are surrounded by that which we love. On land, the closer the loved one, the stronger the Mermaid. But it is not enough. Ileana fell in love with you, but a choice still remained to her, that first night, when love first awoke—and we followed her to land, to see her make her choice. She swam to the beach and walked out of the waves. Standing on the shore, already knowing the pain of land instead of water, of weight instead of support, she still chose you. That choice cannot be unmade. She cannot live without you."
"I know that," Rilian whispers, because he's seen the love in Ileana's eyes, and how she leaned into him every time she was weak. "I do love her."
"Then continue doing so. The only part of a living creature as large as the sea is the soul, the heart. That must be given back, and you must choose, as she did; you must swear that it will be for life."
"I will go back now," Rilian answers, already reaching for the oars. "I will go back and give her that promise now."
"Wait," comes the mother's musical voice, and "Wait," in the father's storm-tossed tone.
"Why?"
"There are still four days, and now that you know what must be done, it would be wise to do it well."
"A great ship's captain," comes the mutter from Rilian's left, and Rillian swallows.
"How is that—done, beneath the sea?"
"Do it tomorrow," the father warns, "for she will continue to get weaker."
"But do it well. I do not think you can keep the legends of the sea," comes in the mother's rippling tone, as she surfaces beside her husband once again.
For the first time Rilian sees the father smile, and it's a sunbeam parting the clouds even as the thunder rolls on. "No," he agrees with his wife.
"A Merman will cut a lock of his hair and weave it in a circle, three times looped, tie it with seaweed, and present it to the Mermaid on a white shell," the mother says, and holds out her arm. The bracelet does have a braid looped three times, and it is the colour of her husband's hair. "How does one do such things on land?"
It's like Ileana, asking curious questions, ready to learn. "Our first King and Queen taught us to present a ring of gold or silver, usually with a few flowers."
"Ileana will like that well enough. Silver will do just as well, if you cannot afford the gold."
It takes a moment for Rilian to process that; beside him, Drinian laughs. "I do not think that will be a problem."
"No," Rilian agrees, flushing. He bows, a slight bow, because the boat has rocked enough for one night. "Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Rilian, son of Caspian the Tenth, and King of Narnia." The wind rustles around the Merfolk's heads. Shifting, Rilian swallows again. "I—can promise to provide for your daughter."
"Your Majesty," the father responds slowly, as if to test out the word. "Your Majesty?"
"Yes, that would be me."
"King of Narnia," the mother whispers. "Then—our daughter—she'll be—"
"Queen of Narnia. If she says yes," Rilian adds. "Is there anything else—anything at all—I should know about asking her? How do I word it? The choice? Because"—if I mess it up I will try again but this seems important to get right the first time—"I would like to do this well."
"It must be a promise, to love her all her life, in spite of all circumstances, changes, or perils."
"Or words that mean as much," the mother adds. "You may choose your own. My love has very strong emotions about words."
"And you should wait till after the sun rises and the dawn comes, to tell her," the father adds. "For under the sea, a promise made at night is a burden and a bond, but a promise made in the light is a joy and a strength. Or so says tradition, forgetting that some promises may be both."
"Wait till the dawn," Rilian agrees, though he frowns. After waiting for so long to find the way to save her, it feels wrong to wait even a little longer. But he should think of her, and what she would want. On that thought—"I should find a white shell."
"What for?" Drinian asks. When Rilian looks over, the captain's eyebrows are up. "Has the cold gone to your head?"
"To present the ring on," Rilian says. "That much, at least, I can keep."
"Shall I help you find it?" the mother asks. Before Rilian can respond, the father puts his arm around her.
"I believe that task should fall to me, my love. But you should go to our people and tell them to prepare for a celebration, three days hence."
"So they may prepare their gifts, and their joy. I will." She dives back into the water and is gone. The father considers Rilian for a moment.
"It is the custom of the Merfolk that the Merman finds the shell himself."
There's a challenge in his words, and Rilian sits up straighter. "I cannot see in the dark water as well as you can. Nor, if you pardon me, do I want to wait another full day to ask Ileana to be my wife." A few hours, yes. Not a full day.
"I would not ask that of you—I did not tarry an hour, once I gained permission to ask Illthee to be mine. But have you courage to trust yourself to my arms, and my sight, and dive?"
"Yes," Rilian answers, for the sea has never been the cage the cave and chair were. He shakes off Drinian's grasping hand. "Do you know the limits of a Son of Adam?"
"Yes. I have saved many off of the rocks of The Islands, where a friend of ours once walked. I will not let your King come to harm," he says to Drinian.
"Since you saved him once already, and since you need him to save your daughter, I suppose I can trust that. But if you stay under so long you swallow water and lose your voice, you can't propose to your queen tomorrow either." Rilian laughs—and it feels strange to laugh without any fear, but so good—and promises. "Don't give an old man a heart attack again, either," Drinian mutters, and it's the the last thing Rilian hears before he jumps over the side.
The Merman holds him the same way as before, tucked under one of his arms, and swimming at a speed that feels like falling, or flying, Rilian isn't sure which. He closes his eyes. As they go deeper and deeper, the stone in Rilian's pocket beginning to glow again, the light visible even through his eyelids. The pressure builds. Rilian feels it pressing on his head, his chest, and still they swim down.
The Merman stops, letting them just float. Blinking his eyes, holding his breath, Rilian looks around. The floor of the sea slopes just below them, the light from the rock illuminating it, reflecting off of white shells, white coral, yellow or black sand, and the occasional fish. Rilian thinks suddenly, unrelatedly, of Bism, and the land he never got to see.
This is Ileana's world, and he wishes he could see more, know more, come back and tell her he knows her world.
But his lungs are beginning to burn, so he moves his arm and swims towards the shells. A part of his mind says he won't go back till he's found the perfect one, but the rest of his mind points out that he can't breathe, and he just needs to find a good one. Aslan help him, just a good one.
The first one he reaches for, the Merman smacks his hand away and points to a tentacle coming out from under it. Rilian swims a little further, feeling like a snail after their first speedy swim, and looks again.
And he sees it, a little white shell half the size of his palm, laying upside down. The inside is a vibrant pink, and it's half the size of his palm, perfect to hold a ring. He reaches for it and the Merman lets him. Once his fingers are wrapped around it, the man of the sea grabs him and they are off again, moving through the water at a speed that leaves Rilian's stomach behind. Once more Ileana's father boosts him into the boat.
"I will help you reach shore," he says, before disappearing. Perhaps Mermen aren't fond of goodbyes, Rilian thinks before the boat lurches. He grabs both sides, holding on for balance, and thinks, or maybe he's just overwhelmed with joy and doesn't know what to say.
Drinian sits across from him, bent down from the wind and holding on as well. "You think we should help row?" he shouts over the wind, and Rilian shrugs. "Best not, the oars would be ripped out of our hands," the Captain concludes. "Merfolk. Never thought I'd be interacting with them this much."
How does he know where to take us? But there're the ships in the water, and perhaps the Merfolk pay more attention than Rilian thought they did, because the boat heads straight for the beach Rilian knows so well. Their speed barely decreases, and they soar over the waves, only slowing when the boat begins scraping the sand. They're halfway beached before the boat stops with a jerk, and Rilian jumps out, meaning to thank his father-in-law.
But the Merman is gone; perhaps he gave them a last push before the water grew too shallow, and their own speed did the rest. Rilian bows towards the sea, for the Merfolk might still be watching, and then turns to help Drinian out.
"Let's get to the Cair."
"Your Majesty, the first order of business once we're there had better be to change yourself into dry clothing and get a hot drink."
"The ring first."
Drinian grunts as he steps on a rock and stumbles. "There's hours till dawn, and the treasury is dark and cold. You'll make a better choice if you're comfortable, it helps the brain."
Rilian can feel his mouth turning down in a frown, but he knows his counsellor is right. "Cider," he says out loud. "I'll change into dry clothing and take some cider with me." Because cider still makes him think about Ileana, even if she doesn't like it.
"Suit yourself. I'll ask for warmed wine."
"You're coming with me?"
Drinian grunts. "I'm curious to see what you pick."
Rilian is too, and falls silent as they walk, thinking. He's seen seas of rings in the treasury in passing, but he's never looked for a specific accessory before. Pulling a dry shirt over his head, he wonders how hard it will be to find—surely not hard, right? But as he walks into the room he realises he was a fool for thinking so. There're shelves at Dwarf height, shelves at Faunt height, and shelves for a tall man, and they're all heaped with jewelled or golden items. Someone tried organising it in his father's day, and so all the swords are grouped together, and daggers, and mail, but rings don't sort very well, and so Rilian stands before the Faun-height shelf and fights feeling overwhelmed. Drinian stands beside him, along with Captain Etmun (who wasn't happy about the two of them going out unsupervised), and two other guards, staring at the long, heaping pile.
There's at least a few hundred rings. Dwarfs love making them, and they make good presents.
"Can you narrow it down?" Drinian asks at last. "What wouldn't she like?"
"Nothing with pearls," Rilian answers before he knows what he's saying. But it's a good limitation, and so he keeps it. "And nothing plain; I'd like it to have jewels. Preferably blue and white ones, but it needs to look beautiful."
"And dainty, she doesn't like anything ostentatious, like some," Drinian agrees. "Right. Why don't you nice young men take out all the plain and pearled ones, and we'll look at the rest."
"They won't because they're meant to be standing guard," Captain Etmun responds dryly. "But I can help."
He pitches in with a will, and Rilian moves forward and starts sorting out the rings with diamonds and sapphires, looking for any flashes of blue and white.
Stars and seas, he thinks, because it's what both of them love.
Rilian is the one who finds the ring an hour later, a large blue stone the colour of her eyes resting in the middle of a circle of small diamonds. Drinian calls it "a bit big," but Rilian knows that Ileana will know what it means, and that she'll like it. He tucks it in his pocket, beside the seashell, and heads towards her room.
"I thought this was meant to be done after dawn," Drinian puffs from behind him, coming up the stairs much more slowly.
"I'll ask after dawn. But—"
"You're going to spend the night outside her door like a daft dog, aren't you?"
Shrugging, Rilian turns to climb the stairs again.
"Get some sleep, or your words won't come when you want them to. I'll come to her door and wake you at dawn."
Still more good advice; Rilian takes it, grabbing a pillow from a tea room he passes, and lays down in the hall outside her door.
Tomorrow is the day I save you, is the last thought he has before he falls asleep.
True to his word, Drinian wakes him at dawn, the faint sunlight spilling golden onto the stone. The old man takes the pillow and leaves, smiling in satisfaction as Rilian knocks on Ileana's door.
*Rilian's opinion, not mine.
A/N: This chapter is stupidly, stupidly long, and it's all because I wanted the scene with the Merfolk to happen at night. A good author would probably go and erase everything about christening the ships, to make this chapter manageable, but I'm a wilful writer who wants my way, so here. Have a monster of a chapter.
And don't ask what happens next. Because I very deliberately did not make this a bad cliffhanger. And all it would have needed to be such was two more sentences.
Response to Guest: Thanks for keeping up with the story! I love getting comments on it. And I was pretty much hoping for reactions like yours, so I grinned while reading it. Just a few chapters from the end!