Starts lighter, gets kinda dark toward the end.

Golden Narnia 14: Peter, Besieged

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In the week following Edmund's birthday celebration, Susan and Lucy finally discovered just why Peter had been so uncommonly inattentive when going over how to properly prepare the chimneys for winter.

Peter had refused to tell them the tale, but as the encounter had taken place in a crowded hallway, it didn't take long for them to hear it in full. From several witnesses.

The explanation, when they heard it, also went a long way to explaining why Peter's schedule was suddenly so full of privy meetings and council sessions behind locked doors.

While Susan and Lucy had been staying in Anvard after Queen Ramilka's funeral, a flock of pretty young women from the Archenlander Court had taken a calculated look at their Court and then at the Cair. Archenland had an unmarried king, yes, but he was a grieving widower, and was unlikely to be looking for a new wife anytime soon. The Crown Prince was a mere infant, and was unlikely, when grown, to choose a lady ten or fifteen years older than himself.

Narnia, on the other hand, had a young and handsome High King, who was unattached and ripe for the plucking... if only the right lady could attract his attention.

So these young women had strategically attached themselves to Sir Aurrey and Lady Melanta's household during Ramilka's funeral observances. Upon Sir Aurrey and Lady Melanta's return to Narnia, they had managed to inveigle themselves an invitation to come stay with them in Narnia.

And once at the Cair, they lurked.

The third day back from Archenland, Peter had to wonder just how much interference his sisters had been running for him all this while, because these women were nothing if not opportunistic.

One of the most persistent ones was named Erma, who had brought along her brightest gowns with the closest fit, and had apparently committed the castle's floorplan–and Peter's schedule–to memory.

Peter had been going over preparations for getting Cair Paravel prepared for the winter with Mr Tumnus, who'd caught him up in a hallway with some plans.

Erma had sailed around a corner and settled herself in Peter's line of sight, completely ignoring that she was impeding the progress of others. (It was a busy corridor.) He'd pretended not to see her, and shuffled around to 'look' at the paperwork Mr Tumnus was holding, turning his shoulder to her as though on accident.

She didn't take the hint, but had simply circled them until she was right in front of Peter again, in a yellow dress that was positively eye-searing even in his peripheral sight.

"Ahem."

Peter pretended not to hear the fake cough, helped by a rise in the rise in volume of those passing by. "So the Stoats do the actual chimney clearing?" He repeated, hoping he'd heard Tumnus correctly.

"Yes, Sire. So we need a plan to prepare each room before they do, because shalt need to move furniture back and—"

"Ahem."

This one was loud enough to interrupt Tumnus, who glanced up, mildly irritated at the interruption.

Peter turned his head to throw a tight smile in her direction, enough to be minimally polite, but desperately hoping she'd take the hint that he was busy and leave.

Whatever Tumnus was saying went right past his ears as he blinked hard at the… er, dress… she was wearing.

Ah… this might explain the sudden increase in surrounding conversation.

He had little understanding of women's fashion, but if Susan were here, he was pretty certain she'd refuse to let this young lady leave her rooms looking like this. Certainly it was nothing like Peter had ever seen.

Besides the eye-watering shade, the gown seemed to be very, well, close-fitting. If this were a formal event in the evening, a close-fitting gown wouldn't be out of order, but… it was Tuesday morning.

And really, 'close fitting' didn't quite cover it. It seemed to have been made for a woman a bit smaller than Erma. All right, that wasn't quite true: it wasn't straining at the waist, and overall it seemed to be fitted well.

It was simply that it seemed as thought the dressmaker hadn't left quite enough fabric for Erma above the waist. Although there seemed to have been plenty of fabric for ruffles…

"…hear me, Your Majesty?" Tumnus repeated, and Peter blinked. He looked down at the paperwork, having no idea what Tumnus had just said.

"Ah, quite." He said absently. "Er–Lady Erma, didst thou require any thing?" He asked politely, focusing his eyes somewhere above her elaborate hairdo.

"Oh, King Peter, I was wondering if you would care to go out for a ride together later? If thy schedule permits?" She fluttered forward, laying a hand delicately on his arm. She didn't look offended, so he hoped he hadn't been staring at her for as long as it felt like he had. In fact, she looked pleased with herself.

He resisted the urge to ask if she were planning on wearing that tremendously unsuitable gown.

"Well." He started, and stopped, realizing he actually didn't have plans for the rest of the day. How had she known that?

Tumnus stepped in. "Oh, Your Majesty, don't you remember? Thou hast an urgent Council meeting this afternoon?"

"I do? Oh! Yes. I'd nearly forgotten, ha," Peter said. "So sorry, Lady Erma, another time, perhaps."

"And you need to go prepare for that meeting right now," Tumnus prompted, nudging him toward the nearest doorway.

"You are right. I certainly do," Peter said, giving her the shallowest of nods. "Must be away, I'm afraid, good day." He allowed himself to be propelled through the door, and was grateful when Mr Tumnus 'accidentally' closed it in Erma's bright pouting face.

That had been one of the only times he'd been able to escape.

Time and time again, Peter would be going about his business in the Cair, only to be stopped by a pretty face and cooing voice, asking if the High King hadn't just one moment to spare a lady?

As a knight, of course, he could not be discourteous to a woman without an incredibly urgent reason, and so Peter kept being drawn into pointless conversations and uncomfortable situations at every turn, even when he was actually on his way to do something.

The third time he'd been late to arms practice, Orieus had set him to doing sprints around the entire perimeter of the Cair. The outer walls, not the inner.

When Edmund had laughed, Orieus had sent him running after his brother.

"Laugh if thou likest," Peter puffed out. "The situation is ridiculous."

"The situation is intolerable. Cannot you avoid them?"

"They're everywhere," Peter said. "Thou'rt fortunate they haven't remembered you are also an unmarried King, since they all seem to be after a crown for themselves." A considering expression crossed Peter's face, and Edmund shot him a look.

"You wouldn't!"

"Aid me in avoiding them, and I won't be the one to remind them of your unattached status," Peter promised.

So Edmund started sending pages along after Peter to watch and summon him to an "urgent meeting" any time his brother was cornered.

By the time the girls returned, Peter's daily schedule hadn't a moment of spare time. Lucy and Susan derived no little amusement watching him practically sprint down the hallways to his 'next appointment,' with simply no time to spare to stop and chat.

Peter supposed there were worse problems to deal with, but at his request, the Four dined together alone far more frequently so he could at least eat in peace.

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As the late fall months slid into winter, a routine settled over the Cair. Lucy and Susan kept up with their correspondence with friends near and far, while Edmund and Peter started planning their campaign against the bandits in the North that plagued the roads when roads went muddy in the spring rains.

Christmas, and all its merriment, came and went; snowball fights were had; and Peter continually avoided the women. Lucy sent holiday greetings to Avarro and, after some thought, to Rorin.

To welcome the New Year, all four of them traveled to Anvard to keep King Lune in good cheer.

Peter was grateful for the reprieve from his would-be admirers. Edmund commented wryly he had been half surprised to not find those young ladies hidden among the baggage upon their arrival at Anvard. Peter had thrown a snowball at him.

A merry time was had by all, and as things had remained so peaceful for so long, Peter finally had time to spend with his siblings.

While he was pleased things seemed so calm in Narnia, there were some things he observed which bothered him.

One day, while he and Susan were going over some accounting, he asked, "Su... Does Lucy seem all right to you?"

His sister's big, surprised eyes turned to him. "Of course she is all right. Why do you ask?"

"It seemest to me that she's not as happy as formerly she was," Peter said. "I think Ed's birthday fete was the last time I saw her singing and dancing; else, she seems content, but not as joyous as she had been before."

Susan brushed this off. "She's just maturing into a proper Queen. As her fond brother, thou'rt merely feeling surprised at the change."

"If thou sayest so," Peter said doubtfully.

"I do," Susan said firmly, "Leave her be. She won't thank thee for hovering," and Peter let it drop.

Not long after this, he had to track Lucy down to make inquiries about Susan. "Just what went on in Anvard between Susan and that Prince Rabadash?" he demanded to know.

Lucy turned from her desk, where she'd been writing a letter. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Were there any promises made betwixt them?"

"Promises! None I know of," Lucy said. "But I was not privy to all their conversations. They did spend a goodly amount of time together." She looked at Peter closely. "Why dost thou ask now?"

He slapped a heavy document down on her desk. "His Eminence the Tisroc has sent me a missive, asking to send certain of emissaries to visit the Cair this summer. True, 'tis buried in their linguistic frills, but... therein are hints at the beginnings of a marriage treaty."

Lucy was unperturbed at this news. "So? Susan has had offers before."

"This one seems serious."

"Other offers were not exactly frivolous, either," Lucy pointed out.

"The others were born of passion and fell away soon. This one takes care to designate the estates to which Rabadash shalt ascend should he maintain his father's favor, and hints his chief wife would do well with him."

Lucy thought back to the fall a moment. "True, they did seem to be quite taken with one another. She certainly thinks him romantic, and seemest to have strong feelings for him. Moreso than her other suitors, I daresay. How he feels, I could not say."

Peter tugged at his beard in thought. "Is it possible this is a love match?"

"Anything is possible," Lucy said, but she sounded doubtful.

"You think not," he guessed, but she shook her head.

"I know not what to think," she said. "What Susan says of him seems sometimes a wholly different person than the Prince Rabadash I saw; but then he and I did not meet, much.

"You mentioned other suitors' passions falling cold in short order. How if you delay a response to this initial foray? Surely if it is indeed love, he will press his suit? So long, of course, as Susan has not said she does not want him."

"She has not," Peter said, and then admitted, "I haven't even mentioned this missive to her yet."

"Peter!"

"I know she writes him with some regularity," he said. "I do not wish her making him any promises, herself, before we are certain of his intentions. Or his father's."

"Fair enough," Lucy said. From a policy perspective, it did make sense to be more certain of Rabadash's intentions, though for Susan's sake, Lucy hoped the man was sincere. Susan really seemed to like him.

On the other hand, most visiting Calormenes had all but openly sneered at Narnian values. Though Lucy hadn't missed the avaricious gleam in their dark eyes when they beheld the restored splendor of Cair Paravel, that first visit after the snows of the Neverending Winter had melted.

So it made sense to be doubtful and cautious, but she could tell it pained Peter to be less than forthright.

He sighed. "Well, I'm not certain it's helped me decide, but thank you for your time. Who is it you're writing?"

"Avarro. I think he is lonely in Telmar. He writes very little about how he spends his time."

"What does he write about, then?"

"He's still sad about being sent home from his stay in Narnia," Lucy said, not sounding especially concerned. "But I think mostly he has not yet found his place among the Telmarines."

"No word from Lord Rorin?" Peter asked idly, and was surprised to see a flash of sorrow cross Lucy's face.

"I–he is very busy learning with his new master." She said quietly.

Peter leaned forward in his chair, concerned. There was the sadness; he knew he hadn't imagined it. "Lu, are you–" but he was cut off by a knock at the doorframe.

He and Lucy turned to see Alissa hovering in the doorway. "Am I interrupting?" The Dryad asked.

"Not at all," Lucy said briskly. "Peter, we'll talk more later; I need to have some measurements taken for a new gown."

Well, that was as clear a dismissal as he'd heard. Reluctantly, he stood. "All right, but we will talk later."

Lucy smiled at him. "Oh, of course."

But as he left, he wasn't sure she really meant it.

The weeks wore on through the winter and into spring. Peter eventually responded to the Calormenes' request, permitting that a small party should come to meet with them later in the year.

And he did his best to keep an eye on Lucy. When he'd asked Edmund, his brother had shrugged. He hadn't noticed anything in particular about Lucy. Susan still held any change in mood was just part of Lucy's growing up. Lucy herself took pains to smile more around Peter, but he suspected she was just trying to ease his worries.

Eventually, Peter took his worries to General Orieus, who said he'd look into it; but when next they spoke, Orieus only shook his head. "Her Majesty claims naught is wrong, and no more word would she would say to me."

"Nothing?"

"No. I agree, King Peter: she is not as happy as before, but that is not the same as saying she is unhappy." Orieus said. "I know many young creatures go through times of sadness for no apparent reason as they are learning to grow up. Surely this is the same?"

That was more or less what Susan had suggested. Peter thought back to his own periods of self-doubt, especially in those first few years here. "I suppose," he agreed reluctantly, though even as he said it, he didn't think that answer quite fit. "But thou'll keep an eye open?"

"So long as nothing is said to me in confidence, aye," Orieus agreed. "You and your royal siblings' wellness are ever in my mind."

That brought a real smile to Peter's face. "I know it."

Orieus' expression changed as his gaze shifted across the courtyard. "And speaking of thy wellness, High King, get thee gone. Those simpering females have just entered the yard, and I think they seek you."

"How do they always know?" Peter exclaimed, and glanced about for the fastest route away. "My thanks, General. Would you–?"

The merest hint of a smile made the stern face twitch as Orieus deliberately turned his head to gaze out across the fields toward the forest. "I do not have you in my sight, King Peter; so I cannot truly say where thou might have gone after our discussion."

And so, High King Peter of Narnia thanked his general and fled the flock of incoming women. Courage and stalwartness were all well and good, but there was only so much a man could put up with!

In Telmar, Avarro threw down Queen Lucy's latest letter with disgust.

Hello, it said, I hope thou art doing well.

Where was the invitation to come back to Cair Paravel?

As spring approaches, our days become more and more full here. Time gets short to work on lessons among all the other goings on. How are your lessons going?

He'd hardly sat for any learning since he'd returned to Telmar, and felt a stab of guilt. Clearly, despite her busier schedule, Lucy had kept up with hers.

We are planning for a visit from the Calormenes in a couple months' time, which takes up much of my days. I have hardly a moment to myself, and I miss having picnics and rides–but perhaps that is the weather speaking.

You write little of how you spend your time; I hope you are not bored and that you have made some acquaintances. Tell me what you do together.

Avarro felt his ears redden just thinking of telling Lucy about Gavril and his friends, with whom Avarro spent most of his evenings now. He didn't think she'd approve, exactly, of how they spent their time. Frequently, they'd drink to excess (he remembered how that hardly ever happened at the Cair) and gamble (usually with Avarro's money) and run wild through the streets breaking whatever they could get their hands on in inebriated glee.

But of course he couldn't tell Lucy any of that.

For the first time in a long while, Avarro felt a real pang of conscience. If he were to write her back this moment, what would he write?

If Uncle Joncas was less occupied with Court doings, Avarro suspected he'd be lectured for spending quite so much time away from home lately.

The clock in the hall chimed, interrupting his thoughts, and he realized it was time to leave to meet Gavril and his group, at a new place tonight.

But Uncle wasn't here, so who was to tell him no? Hah! Nobody. And maybe if Uncle Joncas were around more, he'd have something to do. But he didn't. So he'd go spend time with his new friends.

Even if he couldn't write Lucy about them.

When he rode up to the little coaching-inn they'd been told to meet at, it looked nearly empty. Not many people staying the night, Avarro supposed. Not many people doing anything, he realized, as he led his horse into the almost-vacant stable.

It was odd, since this was the only public place for quite a few miles; the last actual village was several leagues away, and since leaving its quiet thatched roofs behind, there'd only been one or two farmhouses to interrupt the night-darkened fields Avarro rode across.

He was nearly an hour's ride from home, and resolved to not get so drunk he couldn't ride back. That hadn't been a pleasant trip back home, last time, and he'd been so thoroughly soused that he'd woken Uncle when he crashed back inside the keep.

He ignored the little voice that said he'd made a promise before, to not drink too much. The little voice also advised him to just turn around now. He ignored it again.

He pushed the door to the inn open and found Gavril and two of his closest friends sitting in front of the fireplace, a bottle of wine and a small cask of liquor already in front of them. The other seven or eight young men who typically hung about were nowhere to be seen.

The two friends, Hob and Nat, were a couple of years older than Avarro and seemed to have a suppressed sort of eagerness about them. Clearly, they knew whatever tonight's plans were.

The trio greeted Avarro, who poured himself a glass and sat.

There was a scant meal on the table, and all four of them picked at it and drank; the level in the cask was soon getting low, and another procured. Empty wine bottles started to accumulate.

Between the dim light, the fatty food, and the drink, Avarro was feeling lazy. Not to mention bored. Was this what they'd come all this way for?

The food wasn't that good.

He looked around the dim smoky room. Nobody else had showed up. "So what's it tonight, gaming?"

Gavril smiled lopsidedly. "Likely not. Something else planned." He leaned forward. "Heard from your little girlfriend?"

Avarro's scowled at the thought. "She's as busy as ever. Why doesn't she ask me to come visit her? Instead she asks, oh-so-kindly, how I spend my time."

Gavril laughed mockingly. They'd heard this litany of complaints before. "Why don't you man up and go visit her? Surprise her? Better than whining about it to us all the time."

They knew Avarro had 'a friend in Narnia,' but Avarro had never told them just who his friend was. He didn't want to share her with them in any way. And they already thought Avarro had a never-ending source of funds; if they knew he was friends with a Queen, well…

"Oh, her family would be upset," he waved away Gavril's mocking tone. "They'd keep me from spending any time with her, if she didn't ask me. Plus, there's Uncle to deal with."

"Ah, yes, your uncle," Gavril said. "He gave you your allowance?"

"Yes…" Avarro said reluctantly. Somehow, he always seemed to foot the bill for these outings. Somehow, it didn't seem like quite as much fun lately.

Although, with only Gavril, Hob, and Nat, perhaps tonight wouldn't be as costly. He could hope.

"Let's see," Gavril prompted, and with a sigh, Avarro pulled out his coin pouch and tossed it to the table.

It was not, of course, his entire allowance, but it should be enough to cover whatever Gavril had planned.

Avarro just hoped it was something new. These nights bled into one another.

Gavril counted over the coins and gave Avarro a calculating glance. "You're really missing this girlfriend of yours?"

"I've said so."

"So let's say you could go see her."

"But her fam–"

"Let's say her family wasn't around. And," Gavril said, anticipating his next comment, "let's say she had nothing else in her schedule but you." Nat and Hob watched the exchange intently.

What if Avarro could have Lucy all to himself? He swallowed at the thought, his face going hot.

Gavril leaned closer. "Avarro, my boy, you've been telling me for months how frustrated you were, even when you were close to her in Narnia. Always, other people around. Always, she had more important things to do."

"I know." He tried for a casual tone, but his voice wobbled a little with his anger. He'd lived this. He didn't need to be reminded.

"You may not credit it, but I've been working on your behalf to help. I'm your friend and want to help you. It's why we're here."

Avarro looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Gavril leaned even closer to whisper. "Tell me… what would you do right now…right this moment… if you had her here and all to yourself?"

Avarro drew in a sharp breath at the thoughts that entered his head. But he wasn't expecting what happened next. Gavril smiled, and clapped, and three young women–girls, really–came out of a side room.

All were petite, and their hair was varying shades of dark blonde to brown, and their skin was fair and pinkish. They all looked a bit—just a bit—like her.

And right now, 'a bit like' was better than nothing.

Avarro's hand clenched around his glass.

"Take your pick," Gavril encouraged him, and Avarro shoved himself to his feet, stumbling a little with drink.

He grabbed one of the girls, who looked up at him, her face resigned and blank.

"Tansy, take him up to the first room," Gavril said, and she started leading Avarro away and up the stairs. She mutely led him into a dim, ill-furnished room. Before the door closed, Avarro heard Gavril say, "Petunia and Clover, take care of Hob and Nat. Plenty of pay here..."

And then the door closed with a thud, leaving everything else outside.

.

Later, when Avarro rejoined Gavril, the older man was sprawled across the bench, smirking. "Enjoy yourself, lad?"

Avarro nodded shortly, but… "It wasn't her."

Gavril's eyebrow rose at that reply. "No, but surely Tansy was good? She's very accommodating."

"Yes, but her eyes were the wrong color."

Gavril's expression flickered with annoyance, but he said with extra cheer, "Well, we'll just keep trying, then, won't we? Stick with me, my boy, and we'll get your picky tastes catered to. Trust me."

Trust him–hah! Avarro didn't really trust him that much, but if Gavril could do better than these girls...

Well, Avarro would give him that chance.

At least until he got back to Narnia.

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