Thanks to all readviewers! We start the trip home tomorrow, but today I had more time so was able to write something a bit longer. In this one I'm taking a short break from my chosen theme of minor canon characters, because this is a sort of prequel/sequel to part of Chapter 3.
When I was writing Prompt 3, I originally wrote one part of it to be much sadder, but then rephrased it to be vague enough that it didn't threaten to derail the piece. This is that part, without the intentional obfuscation, and expanded. It's Darkness AU, but again I'm not binding myself to it, because honestly it kind of went more places than I expected and I don't think I want to canon-ize all of them. (Also despite having more time, I still did not have enough time.)
Prompt: Water
For All Those Left Unsung, Chapter 3:
"Watersilk," said Ailena, and a distant, sad look passed over her face. "Woven by the naiads. That bolt was their christening gift to a princess, and only one child's dress was ever cut of it; there's plenty to spare. Once your gown is finished, Lucy, you ought to visit the ford at Beruna and show them their present is treasured anew. They'll be so pleased."
No one now remembers the name of the naiad who first had the idea of propagating the rivershines.
The creatures were called such because their threadlike tendrils were buoyant and flowed along the river's surface, catching the light and making the water shimmer more brightly. These tendrils served much the same purpose as hair: attractive and potentially yards long, but inessential to life and able to break or be cut without harming the animal, after which time they would regrow. Perhaps it was inevitable that some clever rivermaid should wonder if they could be woven into fabric.
They could, with skill, and the naiads quickly embraced the notion, many for their own use and some for the use of others. A legend grew that they spun the water itself into thread. But the strands were so fine that it required many rivershines and much time to produce the cloth, and thus a garment of watersilk was nearly always treated as an heirloom and passed down through generations. A bolt of watersilk was a costly and kingly gift.
One such bolt the naiads gave to their king and queen on the occasion of the christening of their daughter, Princess Lewena III. Falling softly over the hands like the water it was named for and shining like sun on the sea, the bolt had been artfully colored the vivid reddish-pink of sunset on the eastern horizon.
It was the queen's favorite color. She thanked them greatly, and placed the bolt carefully amidst the treasures of Cair Paravel, where it would wait in safety until the princess was old enough to not spoil her dresses.
During the next several years, foul beasts began to intrude along Narnia's northern border. The king was often away, as the incursions increased both in frequency and in how far towards Cair they reached before being routed.
Lewena missed her father, but despite the tension in the kingdom she grew into a pretty little girl, all dark red hair and sunbaked smiles. For the princess' eighth birthday, the queen commissioned a dress of the sunset watersilk, deeming her daughter now at last wise enough. Lewena adored her new gown, and fluttered about the castle like a little candle flame, twirling up to the towers and down to the river and everywhere in between.
Six weeks later, they awoke to find the Tree of Protection lying in ruin and Cair Paravel under siege.
The Witch of the North slew everyone within the castle walls, and buried them all in snow.
A hundred years after, another eight-year-old girl stood in a new dress on the bank of the river. Her hair was curling gold tied back instead of plaited auburn, and there was green trim on her dress, but the cloth itself was the same shimmering coral sunset. She had come with her siblings and two others. They had come to speak with the naiads.
Lucy bit her lip. "What if they don't come?"
"They will come," said Mrs. Beaver with certainty. "They'll know their work."
The youngest queen took a few steps forward, and then turned and mutely held her hand out to her sister. Susan took it. Together, they walked a little ways into the river, so that the water burbled about their feet and caught the hems of their dresses.
They waited in silence for a time. Then, without warning, a silver-haired head popped up above the surface—and just as suddenly vanished beneath it again.
"She has gone to call others," said Ailena quietly.
At this, Peter and Edmund came forward to the edge of the water, near their sisters, while Mrs. Beaver and Ailena stood a little to one side.
A few minutes later, the silver-haired naiad rose again from the water, this time standing tall, and surrounded by many more with hair in varying shades of grey, blue, green, brown, and gold. Their eyes were clear blue and green and brown, and their bodies, while opaque, seemed somehow to give the impression of translucence.
Lucy took a deep breath. "Hello."
"Queen Lucy," replied the silver naiad. "You honor us with your visit." There was a ripple across the river as many heads bowed. "It is good to see our last gift to Narnia's crown has once more been judged worthy."
Lucy took another step forward. "Yes, it's so pretty, thank you! Only...only it makes me sad, too. I wish I could have met her."
A naiad with hair the color of water beneath pine trees spoke. "You have learned, then, the fate of Narnia's last rulers. It is a sad story indeed, my queen, and one of the Witch's worst deeds."
"But the Witch is ended," said another with hair like a sunlit lake. "We mourn the loss of those we loved before, and rejoice in the ones Aslan has given us now."
"Set your heart at ease, little queen," said a third, pale gold like a waterfall at sunrise. "For in wearing your gown, you honor both us and the memory of the little princess, who likewise would have delighted in meeting you."
The icy blue of mountain streams, a fourth concluded. "Many are those who rest between the Lion's paws, and from thence we cannot draw them back. Let us give them due respect, and then release them to the river that flows over all."
"We thank you once more, Queen Lucy," said the silver-haired naiad. "And we pray Aslan's blessing on all of you. Farewell."
The naiads all bowed again in a rippling wave, and sank beneath the rushing surface.
For a few moments, there was silence again. Susan thought that perhaps Lucy was crying. Then the younger girl turned to the member of the party who was nearest her own size.
"Mrs. Beaver," she said in a voice that shook a little. "This dress is very lovely. Please make another one, with the same fabric. I want to do something."
When it was finished, Lucy took an afternoon by herself, and buried the second dress in the place where Lewena had been laid to rest. From then on until she outgrew it, the coral watersilk was her favored choice for the most formal occasions. When she could no longer fit into it, she put it into the treasury and had a sash made new from the bolt.
Years later, when those in residence at Cair Paravel received an invitation to the eighth birthday party of Archenland's princess, the chatelaine brought along the dress.
"This belonged to Queen Lucy when she was just your age," said Ailena to Princess Ayraleen. "It reminded her of another little girl, and she was very fond of it. Now it is yours. May it suit you as well as it suited her, and, perhaps, remind you that love need not cease when the one we love has left our sight."
Ayraleen blinked in confusion at this last bit. "Thank you. It is very beautiful."
Ailena looked at the little princess, black hair bound into many small braids with frazzled wisps escaping them, and remembered plaited red and curling gold.
"Yes," she said wistfully. "It is."
"Yes, it's watersilk," said Ailena quietly. "Woven by the river naiads. That bolt was their christening gift for Lewena the Third, last princess of Narnia. She only ever had one child's gown of it, so there should still be plenty left."
-original text of Chapter 3
