narnia / year 1013
prompt: "windy"
word count: 1,503
xXx
Lucy's skirts whipped violently around her knees as icy wind howled through the towers and terraces of Cair Paravel, raking its fingers through flimsy yellow silks as the young Queen gathered them desperately with her free hand.
For only a split second she neglected her shawl, and the instant she let go a fresh gale ripped it from her shoulders.
She glanced up with a sharp squeak, expecting to spot the delicate garment sailing hopelessly away over the battlements, but there it still fluttered, caught in the pale, bejeweled fingers of the Lord Peridan.
He grinned, and an answering smile split Lucy's face in surprise.
"Per! What are you doing out here?"
"Rescuing you, it would seem," he laughed, wrapping the pearly silk back around her shoulders just as the wind died down enough for her to clasp it back into place.
His hands never left her arms, evidently distrustful of its ability to remain secure.
"I think the more pressing question might be what are you doing out here, if your Majesty will pardon my asking? The others have organized a veritable banquet inside."
Lucy glanced over her shoulder to the high windows of multicolored glass, candlelight twinkling merrily from inside the royal gallery and casting dancing patterns over the pale stone of its wide terrace where she had been walking.
But she shook her head, grinning up at Peridan like an overindulged child, despite rapidly approaching her twenty-first birthday. "I love it like this."
From their vantage point they stood over most of the castle, long red flags whipping like ribbons at their full length from glittering spires, creatures of all sorts bustling miniature below them in the open courtyard where high walls sheltered them from the wind, the reds and oranges of a vast forest rippling beyond the northern walls like a sea of gemstones up to the slopes of distant, low blue mountains, the waves of an infinite grey sea crashing like bursts of pearls against the shore of sand and stone, and Cair Paravel itself rising up from that shore, shining pale and golden under an endless cloudy sky.
The wind threw it all into a beautiful chaos, an irresistible disarray that made Lucy's blood sing for the thrill of it.
"Can't we stay out here a little longer?" she implored with glittering blue eyes, and Peridan laughed, meeting her gaze with his own of deep forest-green that she'd known for almost as long as she could remember.
"Your wish is my command, Lady. I cannot deny your fancies as your royal brothers may."
At first glance, one might have guessed he was her brother, though the resemblance extended no further than the identical brilliant red of their hair.
Anything soft in Lucy seemed sharp in him—her wild curls contrasted by his long, straight curtain of hair held back by tiny braids; her apple cheeks and his high, sharp bone structure, the round tip of her nose and his straight as an arrow, she a daughter of Eve and he a son of the forest, though Adam's blood had long mingled with his family, too.
"I ought to bring you out more often without them, then," she giggled.
"And freeze to death in the old North Wind," he said with a grin, "yes, I'm sure the High King will be pleased."
"Oh," gasped Lucy suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath as the biting cold flooded her lungs to aching.
"What? I do hope I haven't found out your plan."
She shook her head, only half listening as she turned to him and he readjusted his hands, the wind threatening once again to steal her unattended shawl. But the Queen noticed none of this, eyes wide and dancing with a strange wonder. "I just remembered something—or, almost remembered it, I think."
"Don't tease me so," protested Peridan in the playful tone he reserved only for her. "How can I inquire after what you've almost remembered?"
"Oh, it sprang up so clearly for a moment! When you said that about the North Wind, it was like— like a feeling out of a dream." She tilted her head to one side, gazing up into her friend's expression of deep amusement. "Are there any legends about the North Wind in Narnia?"
Peridan raised his eyebrows. "I can't say for certain in Narnia, but growing up in Archenland she was seen by some as an omen, good or evil, depending on her whim. I suppose the witch may have had some influence on those stories, or else perhaps found influence in them herself—a deadly force descending from the north to grip the land in ice. It comes often in old tales." He smirked with incredulous curiosity. "Why do you want to know?"
"Well, Tumnus always says that when I was young, I often told him stories from my own world. The one we came from, I mean, all those years ago in Lantern Waste. I don't remember anything about it, anymore, or at least little more than feelings, but he tells me one of my favorites was about the old North Wind. I wish I could remember it. I don't even remember telling him, though I suppose I couldn't have been much older than nine at the time." Her lips twitched involuntarily into a fond smile.
"Is that what you almost remembered?" asked Peridan. "Those stories?"
Lucy breathed in as if to answer, only to breathe out again with desperate frustration. "Oh, I wish I could remember! It was such a sudden feeling, like catching the faintest snatch of a song or a poem, like the words came right to my tongue and then vanished away before I could say them! I feel so certain it came from that other world. Almost as if it were a lullaby, or— or— oh, I don't know."
"Mm…" Peridan watched her thoughtfully. "And what did it feel like?"
"Like…" Lucy closed her eyes, soaking in the chilling bite of the wind against her cheeks. "Like home. Like… a great, wild wind howling outside the window, and a cozy fire, and people all around me. It makes me feel small, and safe, and snug, and— oh, I wish I could remember!" Her eyes flew open. "It must have been such a wonderful place, don't you think? That other world?"
"It must indeed," said Peridan with a grin. "I'll love whatever world produced a Lady such as your Majesty, even for all your oddities."
"Oh, shush," she scolded, but grinned wide all the same. "That is how the North Wind feels, isn't it? It's the sort of chill that sends all the little creatures of the world scampering home to their families and their fires. And cold times always do make people closer, don't they? They're the sorts of times people write songs about, when they're all together."
"Yes," said Peridan. "Yes, I think you're right."
A fresh icy gust tore across the terrace, and Lucy snatched up her skirts with both hands, gripping silk with raw pink fingers as the gale nipped at her ankles like minnows in a shallow stream.
Peridan turned his face sharply away to shield himself from the curtain of hair that flew into his eyes, his laughter mingling with Lucy's squeal of delight at the howling force of the late autumn wind.
"Ey, Per!"
They both turned to spot Corin in the doorway of the royal gallery, poking his head out from a shaft of flickering golden light and using the door itself as a shield against the blast.
"Come on already, we're waiting for you! What are you out in the cold for?"
Before either of them could answer, Susan appeared behind him, the Gentle Queen glittering in jewels with ebony curls cascading free over bare shoulders. "Lucy! You'll catch your death, come inside and get warm and have something to eat!"
"Yes Su, I'm coming!" she called with another laugh.
Peridan wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they stepped across the wide stone balcony. "I see I needn't have worried about your royal brothers after all. It seems one sister will do the job quite as well as both!"
"Better," giggled Lucy under the glow of the golden doorway.
The harbor away from the cold.
Susan reached out and pulled her inside with delicate motherly hands the moment she reached the threshold, and Peridan ducked in after her as Corin closed it with a heavy iron latch, both his and Susan's hands guiding Lucy into the sudden wall of warmth as a burst of candlelight glittered golden in every corner of her vision, fiery stars against pale stone, illuminating carved wooden tables laden with fruits and pastries and meats, hearthlight dancing on pillars and statues and all the ancient carvings she loved so much in every nook and cranny of the beautiful old hall.
And for a moment that feeling rushed back to her clear as day, that brief and beautiful snatch of another world.
The feeling of home.
xXx
The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will the dormouse do then, poor thing?
Roll'd up like a ball
In his nest snug and small
He'll sleep till warm weather comes in