Narnia (movieverse) fic: "In a Dry Month"
Aug. 2nd, 2008 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardTitle: In a Dry Month
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bedlamsbard
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: PG
Summary: On the first day of spring, in the tiny interval between winter storms and spring storms, three ships flying white banners above unfamiliar flags sailed into Cair Paravel’s sheltered but unused harbor. How Golden Age Narnia got the start of its naval fleet. (Peter/OMC implied.)
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Certain characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to Walden Media. Title from T.S. Eliot's poem "Gerontion." Cut-tag from Rudyard Kipling's poem "The Sea-Wife."
On the first day of spring, in the tiny interval between winter storms and spring storms, three ships flying white banners above unfamiliar flags sailed into Cair Paravel’s sheltered but unused harbor. Watching from the walls, Peter made a sound like he’d been hit in the gut, and when Edmund turned towards him, he saw that his brother looked like he was going to throw up.
The thing was that Narnia didn’t have any seapower a year into their reign. They had allies that lived in the ocean – the merpeople and the selkies and other, stranger creatures were titular subjects of Narnia and paid taxes to Cair Paravel, but there hadn’t been reason yet for them to prove their loyalty in other ways; after all, the White Witch’s regime hadn’t affected them overly, as far as Edmund knew – but they had no ships beyond the fishing boats that a few of the folk that lived on the coast used.
“White flags,” Edmund said, trying to be soothing. “That means they’re friendly.”
Peter rubbed a hand over his face, looking tired. Between trying to rule Narnia all by himself (even though had Susan put her foot down and dragged Edmund into sitting in court with Peter) and spending every moment of free time he had practicing weaponswork, he always looked tired. “At least the catapults on the seaward side are already pointed towards the harbor,” he muttered; Edmund was pretty sure he wasn’t even aware that there was anyone else on the wall with him.
Susan gave him a worried look. “Maybe we should –” she began, but Peter had already turned away as if they weren’t there, going down the steps into the courtyard.
“Would it kill him to remember that he doesn’t have to do everything on his own?” she said as she and Edmund followed, a little more sedately than Peter’s not-quite sprint.
“No,” Edmund said, “but he might die of the shock.”
Peter had come to a stop in front of one of Cair Paravel’s particular twists of architecture; if he went out the door that didn’t actually look anything like a door, he’d be in the tunnel that led almost directly down to the harbor, barring a few twists and turns that he already knows like the back of his hand and which always trip Edmund up. Susan and Edmund caught up with Peter in time to hear Louhanna, the elegant leopard who was the head of Peter’s personal guard, forbidding him from going down to the docks.
“It’s too dangerous,” she said.
“Not any more dangerous than going into battle –”
“– and it’s not suitable for your position,” Louhanna finished in tones of triumph. “You’re the High King of Narnia, not a common herald. Send King Edmund instead.”
“Oh, thanks,” Edmund said as Chailya and Saqr – his personal guard – came up beside him.
“But –” Peter said.
“Don’t make me knock you down and sit on you,” Louhanna said, “High King or not.”
Peter scowled, but didn’t protest, probably because Edmund had seen Louhanna knock him down and sit on his chest licking her paws before. “All right,” he said. “Ed –”
“Find out what they want, I know,” Edmund said.
“I was going to say ‘don’t do anything stupid,’” Peter said, voice a little wry, “but yes, that too.”
“Okay,” Edmund said. “So don’t do anything you would do.” Then he looked at Peter a little anxiously, but Peter just grinned, looking faintly amused.
“I’ll be on the eastern wall,” he said.
“We’ll be on the eastern wall,” Susan corrected.
“Take Longwing with you,” Peter said, glancing up at the osprey circling overhead. The hawk came down in a sharp drop at the unspoken call; Edmund threw his arm up, wincing a little as the deadly talons closed with infinite gentleness around his wrist. “And, Su, I want you to have your bow.”
Susan nodded, looking a little surprised, and Edmund looked down at Louhanna. “Anything else I need?” he asked.
“You could try straightening your crown,” the leopard said critically, and Edmund’s hand flew to his hair. He’d forgotten that he was wearing the circlet.
“Oh, don’t bother,” Susan said. “Come here.” Her hands were gentle on his forehead, and then on his chest, as she brushed off some invisible dirt or other, seemingly unaware of Longwing’s very sharp beak so close to her eyes.
“Now you don’t look so much like an errant schoolboy,” Peter said, grinning slightly.
“No,” Chailya said, her tiger’s voice a little deeper than Louhanna’s. “Now he looks like a proper king of Narnia. Come along then, your highness – I doubt that we want to make these folk wait, however proper it may be.”
“All right,” Edmund said. He looked at Peter, and his brother nodded, hand resting lightly on his swordhilt. After Crevan, he wasn’t taking any more chances of being caught unarmed, even in his own castle.
“Don’t worry,” Peter said, smiling reassuringly. “I’ve had archers on the walls since the ships came into sight.”
Edmund revised his opinion on how tired Peter was, since it was a clear day – since it was a clear morning. Before he could speak, though, Susan said sharply, “And when was that, Pete?”
“Oh – around midnight,” Peter said, then blinked. “What?”
“Did they wake him up?” Susan demanded of Louhanna.
“Yes,” Louhanna said, staring at her pointedly. “Of course.”
“And did he go back to bed afterwards?”
“Of course not, Su,” Peter said. “I had to –”
“You had to –”
“I’m right here,” Edmund pointed out. “And I’m about to go down and talk to the strange ships anchored in our unprotected harbor, and you were telling me about the archers on the walls.”
Peter and Susan swung around towards him, both of them looking a little surprised to see him still there. Peter shook his head slightly. “There are archers on the walls,” he said, “and if you give us the signal, or if whoever’s on those ships makes on wrong move, they’re going to have Narnian arrows in them. Don’t worry,” he said again.
“No one will shoot me, though?” Edmund said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Susan said. “If anyone’s going to shoot you, it’s going to be me.”
-
-
Three hours later
“Captain Osumare Seaworth, of the galleon Rising Sun!” the herald proclaimed.
Watching out of the corner of his eye, Edmund saw Peter straighten in his throne, expression brightening slightly with curiosity.
Osumare, a slight, handsome man in his twenties, dropped to one knee in front of the four thrones, sweeping his cloak around him as he bowed his head. Behind him, eight men in sailors’ rough clothes hauled forward four heavy wooden chests battered and stained by seawater, lining them up on the floor and then kneeling as well.
“What is this?” Peter asked, sounding curious enough.
Osumare rose. “Your highness, I bring you the spoils of the sea,” he said. He stepped away, never turning his back on the dais, and began throwing open the lids of the chests one after another. “Gold from Calormen. Gems from the Seven Isles. Pearls from Galma. Silks from Terebinthia. Spices from far-off Edan. Koboldwork from Anskettell.”
“Fine gifts,” Peter said quietly as Susan, on his other side, drew in a sharp breath. That was a king’s ransom on the floor in front of them. “You are so free with such precious goods, Captain?”
“Ah, your highness, these are but trifles. In truth, I have come to Narnia to offer something far greater than mere material goods.”
“And what is that?”
“Why,” Osumare said, “if it is your royal will, I would pledge myself, my men, and my ships to Narnia and to the High King. I fear we have wandered the oceans long, and there has never been a greater nor more fruitful land than Narnia, especially now that the White Witch’s power is broken. Even across the Great Eastern Ocean we have heard of the courage and valor of the High King Peter, and every port from Peveril in Archenland to Canaho in Masongnong in the far south is speaking of the defeat of the White Witch and the flowering of Narnia. Gladly would I serve this land – and a great country must have great sea-captains.” He winked at Peter, who, unexpectedly, blushed.
“You are welcome in Narnia,” Peter said, the flush still bright in his cheeks. “Gladly will we accept your pledge. Tonight, bring your fellow captains to Cair Paravel’s Great Hall; you may swear us your oaths then before witnesses.”
“Your highness, nothing would please me more,” Osumare said. He bowed his head slightly, looking at Peter from beneath his lashes. Susan threw Edmund a horrified look that more or less screamed do something!
Like what? Edmund mouthed back.
Peter blushed even harder. “You are excused,” he said, sounding a little uncertain about it. “And we thank you for these gifts.”
“There are more aboard my ships,” Osumare said, smiling gaily. “I give them to you gladly, for no less than the gift of your presence.”
“You are excused,” Peter said again, dipping his head as if trying to hide the flush that had him bright red. “And again – we thank you.”
Osumare bowed with another flourish, his sailors following – though less flashily, Edmund noted – and then left as members of the army carried the chests out of the hall. Once the rest of the hall had left – all except the Royal Guard, which didn’t really count – Susan turned on Peter.
“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “He didn’t trade for those goods! We’ll have every country on the eastern seaboard sailing for us with murder on their minds!”
“Of course he didn’t trade for them,” Edmund shot back. “He’s a pirate. But now he’s our pirate.”
“Privateer,” Peter corrected, “as soon as I issue letters of marque for him and his captains. And we really did need sea-power; it’s the only thing we’re really weak on.”
“Aside from everything else we’re weak on, you mean,” Edmund said.
“Aside from that,” he agreed, “but we didn’t even have a start on sea-power before, and now we do.”
“And what were you doing blushing?” Susan said suspiciously. “If he wasn’t a man, I’d say he was flirting with you.”
“Let’s go see what exactly’s in those chests,” Peter said hastily.
-
-
Three months later
“Okay,” Peter said, massaging the skin over his eyes with two fingers, “I’m starting to think I should have given you to the Masongnongese when they asked. I don’t mean that,” he added quickly, and Osumare laughed.
“It would have saved you no little trouble, would it, your highness?”
“It would have come anyway, eventually,” Peter muttered. A month ago, ships from Masongnong had sailed into Cair Paravel’s harbor and demanded that Peter turn over Osumare Seaworth to them to hang for piracy. Against Susan’s judgment, Peter had refused: they needed the sea-power too badly. And now the Masongnongese fleet in all its force was sailing against Narnia. Masongnong was one of the premiere sea-powers on the eastern seaboard. “All right – do we have the merfolk?”
“Arion says he would speak to you before he declares himself –”
Peter moaned. Arion was the king of the merfolk; he’d sent one of his sons to Cair Paravel for their coronation rather than come himself. Orcus had been unforthcoming on whether or not the merfolk were actually going to bend the knee – metaphorically speaking – at Cair Paravel. And Peter needed the merfolk if he wanted to keep Narnia safe from the sea.
“– but I think he merely likes the formality.”
“I’ll talk to him –” Peter glanced out the window of his study; it was still dark, “– tomorrow morning, I suppose. All right. As soon as the Masongnongese ships enter Narnian waters, I want half the merfolk to strike the fleet here.” He pointed at the map in front of him. “They’ll strike fast and then retreat, harrying the Masongnongese fleet until they round Heresceaft Point, where the navy will be waiting. You’ll draw them away from Cair Paravel, because I’m not exactly certain of our chances of surviving bombardment on the castle a mar. The merfolk and the selkies – what?” He looked up at Osumare’s quickly-stifled laugh. “Did I forget something?”
“It’s just that you’ve said ‘Masongnongese’ more times in a row without mispronouncing it than anyone I’ve ever met,” the privateer captain said. “Usually we just call them the ‘Matties’.”
“You could have told me that sometime before I practiced it in front of a mirror until I could say it dead-drunk and wounded if I had to,” Peter pointed out. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and said, “All right, the selkies will be waiting with the navy –”
Osumare put a hand over his, knocking over the little red tokens on the map.
“Captain?” Peter asked, heart stopping in his throat.
“I’m well aware of the plan, your highness,” Osumare said. “It’s a good one, for a boy who three months ago had no sea experience at all.”
“I’m not a boy,” Peter said.
“Of course not. My apologies, highness. I simply meant to say that I know the plan as well as you, and it will not change in the telling. The Mattie fleet won’t arrive for another two days yet, and you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I’ve slept,” Peter protested. He just hadn’t slept much. Approaching invasion tended to do that. He stared down at the map, counters and lines swimming in front of his eyes. “I think I’m missing something,” he muttered. “Merfolk, selkies, oceanids – the sirens were with the White Witch and they’re not particularly fond of me – naiads and undines are limited to fresh water –”
“Rest, highness,” Osumare said, hand tightening on his wrist. “You are no good to Narnia exhausted. And I think – perhaps – you are in need of some comfort.”
“Comfort?” Peter repeated, the word completely meaningless right now. He stared at Osumare blankly, trying to make the situation make sense, and then Osumare leaned forward over the table and kissed him, soft and brief, before pulling back.
Peter stared at him, mind gone blank in shock, then touched his fingers to his mouth as Osumare said, “I hope I do not offend, your highness, but you seem –”
“I’ve never –” Peter said, tripping over the words, “I haven’t – not with a man – before –”
The old pirate’s grin was bemused. “And no doubt, highness, there are many in Narnia who regret that. It’s not so different with a man than it is with a woman, except for the…obvious…differences, of course.”
“Of course,” Peter echoed. He blinked, his mouth dry, and said, “Why don’t you show me?”
-
-
Three minutes later
“I’m an idiot,” Peter said, standing up abruptly.
“Nothing I did, surely –” Osumare began, making no move to re-tie the laces of his shirt.
“No, it’s me,” Peter said, crossing his study and throwing open the door. The members of the Royal Guard who’d been dozing in the hall scrambled hastily to their feet.
“Majesty –” Saidi began.
“I want my brother and my sister here now,” Peter said. “Tell them it’s urgent.”
“Vangie, to King Edmund; Caley, to Queen Susan,” Saidi said over her shoulder, and the two wildcats sprang off. She looked back up at Peter, tail lashing. “Should I send someone for Louhanna as well, majesty?”
“No, that’s unnecessary,” Peter said. “Although if you’ll listen to this and tell me what you think –”
“Of course,” Saidi said placidly, following him into the room. Seeing her, Osumare hastily straightened his shirt – he and Peter hadn’t had time to do more than make out lazily for a few minutes – and sat up. Saidi glared at him and sat down next to Peter’s chair, steady green eyes on him the entire time.
Edmund and Susan came in one after the other, yawning around their fists. Susan was still pulling a dressing gown on over her shift; she stopped and glared at Peter as she saw Osumare. Edmund was in hose and shirtsleeves.
“Have you even slept, Pete?” he demanded, plucking at his sleeves.
“No, but look at this,” Peter said, pointing at the map.
“Yes,” Susan said dryly, “we’re extremely outnumbered.” She covered a yawn delicately with one hand. “Peter, what –”
“How much attention were you paying to the war?”
“This war?”
“No,” Peter said. “The war back in England.”
Susan and Edmund stared at him blankly. “I think that’s a little different than this…” Edmund ventured, looking down at the map again. The red counters of the Narnian sea-forces and land-troops – in case the Masongnongese actually succeeded in landing men on the mainland – seemed pitiful compared to the green counters that represented the Masongnongese.
“What made the Great War different from any war that had ever been fought before?”
“Tanks?” Edmund said dubiously. “Peter, I don’t –”
“Airpower,” Peter said. “Which we have. I’ve been so busy thinking about meeting the Masongnongese at sea that I hadn’t considered what other forces we have.”
“Your highness, I don’t see how centaurs and fauns are going to be any good on ships,” Osumare pointed out.
“We don’t have any explosives –”
“We don’t have any aeroplanes, Pete.”
“– but we do have a lot of rocks, and I bet they’d do a lot of damage when dropped onto a wooden ship from high up,” Peter said. “You were there, Ed; the griffins can do it. I don’t want to let the Masongnongese come too close to the mainland, and the griffins won’t be able to fly that far-out without coming down somewhere, but there’s the Winter’s End –”
“Which isn’t ready for battle!” Osumare exclaimed, looking alarmed. “Your highness, she has no rigging, no arms –”
“But she can float, she has decks, and she can be rowed,” Peter said triumphantly. “There’s no use putting her in the battle; she’d only be destroyed. But put her as a midway point between the fleet and the mainland and the griffins can land there, like an aircraft carrier back in England. We can launch airstrikes from the deck; it’s big enough to carry at least half of them. We can put half on the Winter’s End and have the other half fly out; the half on the ship can launch and let the other half rest. We can put hawks and eagles and the like on the ship, too – the masts are up, aren’t they?” He put down counters to represent the half-built battleship and the new forces. It added considerably to the pitiful Narnian sea-forces, although he could tell that the map couldn’t really get the picture he had in his mind across. For one thing, he couldn’t put counters down on top of each other.
“No sails yet –”
“Which we don’t need,” Peter said firmly. “She’ll be slow, but she doesn’t have to go all the way out. Can she launch tomorrow?”
“If you’ll give me the time to make a few adjustments – and she’ll need a crew –”
“We have no scarcity of strong arms around here,” Peter said. “The army’s called up anyway. Will fauns and satyrs do the trick?”
Osumare thought on it. “I don’t see why not,” he said finally.
“Good,” Peter said. “Ed, I need you to bring the griffin captains to me as soon as possible; I’ll give them their new orders. Actually,” he added thoughtfully, running over the lists of Narnian troops in his mind, “– fire is bad for ships, isn’t it?”
“Very bad,” Osumare said, looking wary.
“Phoenixes,” Edmund said, looking pleased as he grasped the meaning of Peter’s question. “Pete, that’s brilliant! That way they’ll be under attack from above and below –”
“Have you talked to Arion yet?” Susan interrupted briskly. “He says he’ll only talk to you. And do you think the griffins might be able to carry archers?”
Edmund and Peter looked at each other. “Well, some of those rocks they were dropping on the White Witch’s army were pretty big,” Edmund said dubiously. “You could ask, I suppose. Dwarves are pretty light, relatively speaking. Although I think rocks probably do more damage.”
“Not if they’re shooting fire-arrows,” Susan pointed out.
“Do it,” Peter ordered. “And I’ll talk to Arion in the morning.”
“Peter,” Susan said slowly, “it is morning.”
-
-
Three weeks later
“Well,” Susan said, sounding pleased, if tired, as she swayed on the dock for a moment before finding her land-legs. “That’s done, then, at least for now. The Masongnongese will leave Narnian waters in exchange for the return of the ships we captured and equal repayment for the ships sunk after Admiral Kundaijq raised his flag of surrender –”
“Those ships were sinking before he surrendered!” Edmund exclaimed.
“– and,” Susan continued, ignoring him, “we have exclusive trade agreements in this part of the world. They’ve agreed to withdraw traders from Galma, Terebinthia, the Seven Isles, the Lone Islands, Archenland, and even Calormen.” She beamed. “If anyone wants Masongnongese goods – and this more than outweighs the money lost – they’ll have to come to Cair Paravel for them. We’ll finally be a real economic power in the world, because that means we’ll also get traders from Askettell and Calormen and Edan and, oh, everywhere. I couldn’t have asked for anything better if I’d thought about it for a year.” She looked around, squinting in the late morning sunlight glinting off the calm blue water of the harbor. “Where’s Peter? He’ll appreciate this if I have to beat it into his thick head.”
“I think he’s still in bed,” Lucy said. She’d been left to hold Cair Paravel while the other three sailed on Seaworth’s three ships; as she’d told Edmund afterwards, the most nerve-wracking part of the experience had been watching the first two Masongnongese ships they’d taken sail into Cair Paravel’s harbor, even under Narnian flags. I knew I could hold Cair Paravel, of course, she’d said. It’s not like the entire army wasn’t here. It’s just that I didn’t know what had happened to you.
“At this hour?” Susan said disbelievingly, then tilted her chin up. “Then I’m going to go wake him up. Come on.” She started across the docks to the concealed door that led up to Cair Paravel, Edmund and Lucy following.
The white halls of Cair Paravel, when they reached them a few minutes and a heart-stoppingly steep stair-climb later, were flooded with sunlight – summer storms had blown up just as the second wave of the Masongnongese fleet had rounded Lionshead Cape and scattered the ships across the Bight of Calormen, but they’d calmed since – and Susan was practically skipping through them. She corrected herself hastily as Osumare Seaworth came down the hallway of the royal quarters, whistling a jaunty sea shanty Edmund had learned onboard the Heart’s Desire when he’d been there during the sea-battle. “Your highnesses,” he said, stopping to bow to them before continuing on, doing up the cuffs on his sleeves.
Down the hall, Peter came out of his bedroom, fingers quick on the laces of his shirt and a beatific expression on his face. He stopped when he saw them, flush spreading up his cheeks.
Edmund saw Susan make the connection as she turned to watch Osumare’s back vanish around a corner, then advanced on Peter.
“You’re back,” Peter said hastily, tying off the last of his laces. “How did the rest of the negotiations go?”
“Peter!” Susan said, and then stopped. “I – you – he –”
Peter blushed harder and looked at Edmund.
“Oh, no,” Edmund said, stepping back and putting his hands up in front of him. “You’re on your own with this one, mate.”
“He’s a man!” Susan burst out finally. “Peter! You’re not –”
“Well,” Peter said at last, sounding awkward and looking like he’d prefer to be somewhere else, “maybe I am.”
“But,” Susan said, staring at him with her mouth working, “you – you can’t – I mean – you have to get married. At some point.”
He looked a little pale. “I know,” he said. “And I will. And I’ve slept with women before, it’s – nice?”
“When have you slept with women?” Edmund demanded, because he had not known that. And it was the sort of thing he wanted to know. “Who did you sleep with?”
“I have to go now,” Peter said firmly, and pushed past them.
“Why doesn’t anyone want to sleep with me?” Edmund called after him. It wasn’t fair! Peter was only three years older than him, and Edmund was a king of Narnia too.
Susan hit him on the back of the head and picked up her skirts to run after Peter. “Don’t you want to hear about the negotiations?”
“Probably because you say things like that,” Lucy told Edmund serenely, following Susan sedately. “When do I get to go sailing?”
end
Timeline
Author:
bedlamsbardFandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: PG
Summary: On the first day of spring, in the tiny interval between winter storms and spring storms, three ships flying white banners above unfamiliar flags sailed into Cair Paravel’s sheltered but unused harbor. How Golden Age Narnia got the start of its naval fleet. (Peter/OMC implied.)
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Certain characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to Walden Media. Title from T.S. Eliot's poem "Gerontion." Cut-tag from Rudyard Kipling's poem "The Sea-Wife."
On the first day of spring, in the tiny interval between winter storms and spring storms, three ships flying white banners above unfamiliar flags sailed into Cair Paravel’s sheltered but unused harbor. Watching from the walls, Peter made a sound like he’d been hit in the gut, and when Edmund turned towards him, he saw that his brother looked like he was going to throw up.
The thing was that Narnia didn’t have any seapower a year into their reign. They had allies that lived in the ocean – the merpeople and the selkies and other, stranger creatures were titular subjects of Narnia and paid taxes to Cair Paravel, but there hadn’t been reason yet for them to prove their loyalty in other ways; after all, the White Witch’s regime hadn’t affected them overly, as far as Edmund knew – but they had no ships beyond the fishing boats that a few of the folk that lived on the coast used.
“White flags,” Edmund said, trying to be soothing. “That means they’re friendly.”
Peter rubbed a hand over his face, looking tired. Between trying to rule Narnia all by himself (even though had Susan put her foot down and dragged Edmund into sitting in court with Peter) and spending every moment of free time he had practicing weaponswork, he always looked tired. “At least the catapults on the seaward side are already pointed towards the harbor,” he muttered; Edmund was pretty sure he wasn’t even aware that there was anyone else on the wall with him.
Susan gave him a worried look. “Maybe we should –” she began, but Peter had already turned away as if they weren’t there, going down the steps into the courtyard.
“Would it kill him to remember that he doesn’t have to do everything on his own?” she said as she and Edmund followed, a little more sedately than Peter’s not-quite sprint.
“No,” Edmund said, “but he might die of the shock.”
Peter had come to a stop in front of one of Cair Paravel’s particular twists of architecture; if he went out the door that didn’t actually look anything like a door, he’d be in the tunnel that led almost directly down to the harbor, barring a few twists and turns that he already knows like the back of his hand and which always trip Edmund up. Susan and Edmund caught up with Peter in time to hear Louhanna, the elegant leopard who was the head of Peter’s personal guard, forbidding him from going down to the docks.
“It’s too dangerous,” she said.
“Not any more dangerous than going into battle –”
“– and it’s not suitable for your position,” Louhanna finished in tones of triumph. “You’re the High King of Narnia, not a common herald. Send King Edmund instead.”
“Oh, thanks,” Edmund said as Chailya and Saqr – his personal guard – came up beside him.
“But –” Peter said.
“Don’t make me knock you down and sit on you,” Louhanna said, “High King or not.”
Peter scowled, but didn’t protest, probably because Edmund had seen Louhanna knock him down and sit on his chest licking her paws before. “All right,” he said. “Ed –”
“Find out what they want, I know,” Edmund said.
“I was going to say ‘don’t do anything stupid,’” Peter said, voice a little wry, “but yes, that too.”
“Okay,” Edmund said. “So don’t do anything you would do.” Then he looked at Peter a little anxiously, but Peter just grinned, looking faintly amused.
“I’ll be on the eastern wall,” he said.
“We’ll be on the eastern wall,” Susan corrected.
“Take Longwing with you,” Peter said, glancing up at the osprey circling overhead. The hawk came down in a sharp drop at the unspoken call; Edmund threw his arm up, wincing a little as the deadly talons closed with infinite gentleness around his wrist. “And, Su, I want you to have your bow.”
Susan nodded, looking a little surprised, and Edmund looked down at Louhanna. “Anything else I need?” he asked.
“You could try straightening your crown,” the leopard said critically, and Edmund’s hand flew to his hair. He’d forgotten that he was wearing the circlet.
“Oh, don’t bother,” Susan said. “Come here.” Her hands were gentle on his forehead, and then on his chest, as she brushed off some invisible dirt or other, seemingly unaware of Longwing’s very sharp beak so close to her eyes.
“Now you don’t look so much like an errant schoolboy,” Peter said, grinning slightly.
“No,” Chailya said, her tiger’s voice a little deeper than Louhanna’s. “Now he looks like a proper king of Narnia. Come along then, your highness – I doubt that we want to make these folk wait, however proper it may be.”
“All right,” Edmund said. He looked at Peter, and his brother nodded, hand resting lightly on his swordhilt. After Crevan, he wasn’t taking any more chances of being caught unarmed, even in his own castle.
“Don’t worry,” Peter said, smiling reassuringly. “I’ve had archers on the walls since the ships came into sight.”
Edmund revised his opinion on how tired Peter was, since it was a clear day – since it was a clear morning. Before he could speak, though, Susan said sharply, “And when was that, Pete?”
“Oh – around midnight,” Peter said, then blinked. “What?”
“Did they wake him up?” Susan demanded of Louhanna.
“Yes,” Louhanna said, staring at her pointedly. “Of course.”
“And did he go back to bed afterwards?”
“Of course not, Su,” Peter said. “I had to –”
“You had to –”
“I’m right here,” Edmund pointed out. “And I’m about to go down and talk to the strange ships anchored in our unprotected harbor, and you were telling me about the archers on the walls.”
Peter and Susan swung around towards him, both of them looking a little surprised to see him still there. Peter shook his head slightly. “There are archers on the walls,” he said, “and if you give us the signal, or if whoever’s on those ships makes on wrong move, they’re going to have Narnian arrows in them. Don’t worry,” he said again.
“No one will shoot me, though?” Edmund said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Susan said. “If anyone’s going to shoot you, it’s going to be me.”
-
-
Three hours later
“Captain Osumare Seaworth, of the galleon Rising Sun!” the herald proclaimed.
Watching out of the corner of his eye, Edmund saw Peter straighten in his throne, expression brightening slightly with curiosity.
Osumare, a slight, handsome man in his twenties, dropped to one knee in front of the four thrones, sweeping his cloak around him as he bowed his head. Behind him, eight men in sailors’ rough clothes hauled forward four heavy wooden chests battered and stained by seawater, lining them up on the floor and then kneeling as well.
“What is this?” Peter asked, sounding curious enough.
Osumare rose. “Your highness, I bring you the spoils of the sea,” he said. He stepped away, never turning his back on the dais, and began throwing open the lids of the chests one after another. “Gold from Calormen. Gems from the Seven Isles. Pearls from Galma. Silks from Terebinthia. Spices from far-off Edan. Koboldwork from Anskettell.”
“Fine gifts,” Peter said quietly as Susan, on his other side, drew in a sharp breath. That was a king’s ransom on the floor in front of them. “You are so free with such precious goods, Captain?”
“Ah, your highness, these are but trifles. In truth, I have come to Narnia to offer something far greater than mere material goods.”
“And what is that?”
“Why,” Osumare said, “if it is your royal will, I would pledge myself, my men, and my ships to Narnia and to the High King. I fear we have wandered the oceans long, and there has never been a greater nor more fruitful land than Narnia, especially now that the White Witch’s power is broken. Even across the Great Eastern Ocean we have heard of the courage and valor of the High King Peter, and every port from Peveril in Archenland to Canaho in Masongnong in the far south is speaking of the defeat of the White Witch and the flowering of Narnia. Gladly would I serve this land – and a great country must have great sea-captains.” He winked at Peter, who, unexpectedly, blushed.
“You are welcome in Narnia,” Peter said, the flush still bright in his cheeks. “Gladly will we accept your pledge. Tonight, bring your fellow captains to Cair Paravel’s Great Hall; you may swear us your oaths then before witnesses.”
“Your highness, nothing would please me more,” Osumare said. He bowed his head slightly, looking at Peter from beneath his lashes. Susan threw Edmund a horrified look that more or less screamed do something!
Like what? Edmund mouthed back.
Peter blushed even harder. “You are excused,” he said, sounding a little uncertain about it. “And we thank you for these gifts.”
“There are more aboard my ships,” Osumare said, smiling gaily. “I give them to you gladly, for no less than the gift of your presence.”
“You are excused,” Peter said again, dipping his head as if trying to hide the flush that had him bright red. “And again – we thank you.”
Osumare bowed with another flourish, his sailors following – though less flashily, Edmund noted – and then left as members of the army carried the chests out of the hall. Once the rest of the hall had left – all except the Royal Guard, which didn’t really count – Susan turned on Peter.
“Are you out of your mind?” she demanded. “He didn’t trade for those goods! We’ll have every country on the eastern seaboard sailing for us with murder on their minds!”
“Of course he didn’t trade for them,” Edmund shot back. “He’s a pirate. But now he’s our pirate.”
“Privateer,” Peter corrected, “as soon as I issue letters of marque for him and his captains. And we really did need sea-power; it’s the only thing we’re really weak on.”
“Aside from everything else we’re weak on, you mean,” Edmund said.
“Aside from that,” he agreed, “but we didn’t even have a start on sea-power before, and now we do.”
“And what were you doing blushing?” Susan said suspiciously. “If he wasn’t a man, I’d say he was flirting with you.”
“Let’s go see what exactly’s in those chests,” Peter said hastily.
-
-
Three months later
“Okay,” Peter said, massaging the skin over his eyes with two fingers, “I’m starting to think I should have given you to the Masongnongese when they asked. I don’t mean that,” he added quickly, and Osumare laughed.
“It would have saved you no little trouble, would it, your highness?”
“It would have come anyway, eventually,” Peter muttered. A month ago, ships from Masongnong had sailed into Cair Paravel’s harbor and demanded that Peter turn over Osumare Seaworth to them to hang for piracy. Against Susan’s judgment, Peter had refused: they needed the sea-power too badly. And now the Masongnongese fleet in all its force was sailing against Narnia. Masongnong was one of the premiere sea-powers on the eastern seaboard. “All right – do we have the merfolk?”
“Arion says he would speak to you before he declares himself –”
Peter moaned. Arion was the king of the merfolk; he’d sent one of his sons to Cair Paravel for their coronation rather than come himself. Orcus had been unforthcoming on whether or not the merfolk were actually going to bend the knee – metaphorically speaking – at Cair Paravel. And Peter needed the merfolk if he wanted to keep Narnia safe from the sea.
“– but I think he merely likes the formality.”
“I’ll talk to him –” Peter glanced out the window of his study; it was still dark, “– tomorrow morning, I suppose. All right. As soon as the Masongnongese ships enter Narnian waters, I want half the merfolk to strike the fleet here.” He pointed at the map in front of him. “They’ll strike fast and then retreat, harrying the Masongnongese fleet until they round Heresceaft Point, where the navy will be waiting. You’ll draw them away from Cair Paravel, because I’m not exactly certain of our chances of surviving bombardment on the castle a mar. The merfolk and the selkies – what?” He looked up at Osumare’s quickly-stifled laugh. “Did I forget something?”
“It’s just that you’ve said ‘Masongnongese’ more times in a row without mispronouncing it than anyone I’ve ever met,” the privateer captain said. “Usually we just call them the ‘Matties’.”
“You could have told me that sometime before I practiced it in front of a mirror until I could say it dead-drunk and wounded if I had to,” Peter pointed out. He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and said, “All right, the selkies will be waiting with the navy –”
Osumare put a hand over his, knocking over the little red tokens on the map.
“Captain?” Peter asked, heart stopping in his throat.
“I’m well aware of the plan, your highness,” Osumare said. “It’s a good one, for a boy who three months ago had no sea experience at all.”
“I’m not a boy,” Peter said.
“Of course not. My apologies, highness. I simply meant to say that I know the plan as well as you, and it will not change in the telling. The Mattie fleet won’t arrive for another two days yet, and you haven’t slept in a week.”
“I’ve slept,” Peter protested. He just hadn’t slept much. Approaching invasion tended to do that. He stared down at the map, counters and lines swimming in front of his eyes. “I think I’m missing something,” he muttered. “Merfolk, selkies, oceanids – the sirens were with the White Witch and they’re not particularly fond of me – naiads and undines are limited to fresh water –”
“Rest, highness,” Osumare said, hand tightening on his wrist. “You are no good to Narnia exhausted. And I think – perhaps – you are in need of some comfort.”
“Comfort?” Peter repeated, the word completely meaningless right now. He stared at Osumare blankly, trying to make the situation make sense, and then Osumare leaned forward over the table and kissed him, soft and brief, before pulling back.
Peter stared at him, mind gone blank in shock, then touched his fingers to his mouth as Osumare said, “I hope I do not offend, your highness, but you seem –”
“I’ve never –” Peter said, tripping over the words, “I haven’t – not with a man – before –”
The old pirate’s grin was bemused. “And no doubt, highness, there are many in Narnia who regret that. It’s not so different with a man than it is with a woman, except for the…obvious…differences, of course.”
“Of course,” Peter echoed. He blinked, his mouth dry, and said, “Why don’t you show me?”
-
-
Three minutes later
“I’m an idiot,” Peter said, standing up abruptly.
“Nothing I did, surely –” Osumare began, making no move to re-tie the laces of his shirt.
“No, it’s me,” Peter said, crossing his study and throwing open the door. The members of the Royal Guard who’d been dozing in the hall scrambled hastily to their feet.
“Majesty –” Saidi began.
“I want my brother and my sister here now,” Peter said. “Tell them it’s urgent.”
“Vangie, to King Edmund; Caley, to Queen Susan,” Saidi said over her shoulder, and the two wildcats sprang off. She looked back up at Peter, tail lashing. “Should I send someone for Louhanna as well, majesty?”
“No, that’s unnecessary,” Peter said. “Although if you’ll listen to this and tell me what you think –”
“Of course,” Saidi said placidly, following him into the room. Seeing her, Osumare hastily straightened his shirt – he and Peter hadn’t had time to do more than make out lazily for a few minutes – and sat up. Saidi glared at him and sat down next to Peter’s chair, steady green eyes on him the entire time.
Edmund and Susan came in one after the other, yawning around their fists. Susan was still pulling a dressing gown on over her shift; she stopped and glared at Peter as she saw Osumare. Edmund was in hose and shirtsleeves.
“Have you even slept, Pete?” he demanded, plucking at his sleeves.
“No, but look at this,” Peter said, pointing at the map.
“Yes,” Susan said dryly, “we’re extremely outnumbered.” She covered a yawn delicately with one hand. “Peter, what –”
“How much attention were you paying to the war?”
“This war?”
“No,” Peter said. “The war back in England.”
Susan and Edmund stared at him blankly. “I think that’s a little different than this…” Edmund ventured, looking down at the map again. The red counters of the Narnian sea-forces and land-troops – in case the Masongnongese actually succeeded in landing men on the mainland – seemed pitiful compared to the green counters that represented the Masongnongese.
“What made the Great War different from any war that had ever been fought before?”
“Tanks?” Edmund said dubiously. “Peter, I don’t –”
“Airpower,” Peter said. “Which we have. I’ve been so busy thinking about meeting the Masongnongese at sea that I hadn’t considered what other forces we have.”
“Your highness, I don’t see how centaurs and fauns are going to be any good on ships,” Osumare pointed out.
“We don’t have any explosives –”
“We don’t have any aeroplanes, Pete.”
“– but we do have a lot of rocks, and I bet they’d do a lot of damage when dropped onto a wooden ship from high up,” Peter said. “You were there, Ed; the griffins can do it. I don’t want to let the Masongnongese come too close to the mainland, and the griffins won’t be able to fly that far-out without coming down somewhere, but there’s the Winter’s End –”
“Which isn’t ready for battle!” Osumare exclaimed, looking alarmed. “Your highness, she has no rigging, no arms –”
“But she can float, she has decks, and she can be rowed,” Peter said triumphantly. “There’s no use putting her in the battle; she’d only be destroyed. But put her as a midway point between the fleet and the mainland and the griffins can land there, like an aircraft carrier back in England. We can launch airstrikes from the deck; it’s big enough to carry at least half of them. We can put half on the Winter’s End and have the other half fly out; the half on the ship can launch and let the other half rest. We can put hawks and eagles and the like on the ship, too – the masts are up, aren’t they?” He put down counters to represent the half-built battleship and the new forces. It added considerably to the pitiful Narnian sea-forces, although he could tell that the map couldn’t really get the picture he had in his mind across. For one thing, he couldn’t put counters down on top of each other.
“No sails yet –”
“Which we don’t need,” Peter said firmly. “She’ll be slow, but she doesn’t have to go all the way out. Can she launch tomorrow?”
“If you’ll give me the time to make a few adjustments – and she’ll need a crew –”
“We have no scarcity of strong arms around here,” Peter said. “The army’s called up anyway. Will fauns and satyrs do the trick?”
Osumare thought on it. “I don’t see why not,” he said finally.
“Good,” Peter said. “Ed, I need you to bring the griffin captains to me as soon as possible; I’ll give them their new orders. Actually,” he added thoughtfully, running over the lists of Narnian troops in his mind, “– fire is bad for ships, isn’t it?”
“Very bad,” Osumare said, looking wary.
“Phoenixes,” Edmund said, looking pleased as he grasped the meaning of Peter’s question. “Pete, that’s brilliant! That way they’ll be under attack from above and below –”
“Have you talked to Arion yet?” Susan interrupted briskly. “He says he’ll only talk to you. And do you think the griffins might be able to carry archers?”
Edmund and Peter looked at each other. “Well, some of those rocks they were dropping on the White Witch’s army were pretty big,” Edmund said dubiously. “You could ask, I suppose. Dwarves are pretty light, relatively speaking. Although I think rocks probably do more damage.”
“Not if they’re shooting fire-arrows,” Susan pointed out.
“Do it,” Peter ordered. “And I’ll talk to Arion in the morning.”
“Peter,” Susan said slowly, “it is morning.”
-
-
Three weeks later
“Well,” Susan said, sounding pleased, if tired, as she swayed on the dock for a moment before finding her land-legs. “That’s done, then, at least for now. The Masongnongese will leave Narnian waters in exchange for the return of the ships we captured and equal repayment for the ships sunk after Admiral Kundaijq raised his flag of surrender –”
“Those ships were sinking before he surrendered!” Edmund exclaimed.
“– and,” Susan continued, ignoring him, “we have exclusive trade agreements in this part of the world. They’ve agreed to withdraw traders from Galma, Terebinthia, the Seven Isles, the Lone Islands, Archenland, and even Calormen.” She beamed. “If anyone wants Masongnongese goods – and this more than outweighs the money lost – they’ll have to come to Cair Paravel for them. We’ll finally be a real economic power in the world, because that means we’ll also get traders from Askettell and Calormen and Edan and, oh, everywhere. I couldn’t have asked for anything better if I’d thought about it for a year.” She looked around, squinting in the late morning sunlight glinting off the calm blue water of the harbor. “Where’s Peter? He’ll appreciate this if I have to beat it into his thick head.”
“I think he’s still in bed,” Lucy said. She’d been left to hold Cair Paravel while the other three sailed on Seaworth’s three ships; as she’d told Edmund afterwards, the most nerve-wracking part of the experience had been watching the first two Masongnongese ships they’d taken sail into Cair Paravel’s harbor, even under Narnian flags. I knew I could hold Cair Paravel, of course, she’d said. It’s not like the entire army wasn’t here. It’s just that I didn’t know what had happened to you.
“At this hour?” Susan said disbelievingly, then tilted her chin up. “Then I’m going to go wake him up. Come on.” She started across the docks to the concealed door that led up to Cair Paravel, Edmund and Lucy following.
The white halls of Cair Paravel, when they reached them a few minutes and a heart-stoppingly steep stair-climb later, were flooded with sunlight – summer storms had blown up just as the second wave of the Masongnongese fleet had rounded Lionshead Cape and scattered the ships across the Bight of Calormen, but they’d calmed since – and Susan was practically skipping through them. She corrected herself hastily as Osumare Seaworth came down the hallway of the royal quarters, whistling a jaunty sea shanty Edmund had learned onboard the Heart’s Desire when he’d been there during the sea-battle. “Your highnesses,” he said, stopping to bow to them before continuing on, doing up the cuffs on his sleeves.
Down the hall, Peter came out of his bedroom, fingers quick on the laces of his shirt and a beatific expression on his face. He stopped when he saw them, flush spreading up his cheeks.
Edmund saw Susan make the connection as she turned to watch Osumare’s back vanish around a corner, then advanced on Peter.
“You’re back,” Peter said hastily, tying off the last of his laces. “How did the rest of the negotiations go?”
“Peter!” Susan said, and then stopped. “I – you – he –”
Peter blushed harder and looked at Edmund.
“Oh, no,” Edmund said, stepping back and putting his hands up in front of him. “You’re on your own with this one, mate.”
“He’s a man!” Susan burst out finally. “Peter! You’re not –”
“Well,” Peter said at last, sounding awkward and looking like he’d prefer to be somewhere else, “maybe I am.”
“But,” Susan said, staring at him with her mouth working, “you – you can’t – I mean – you have to get married. At some point.”
He looked a little pale. “I know,” he said. “And I will. And I’ve slept with women before, it’s – nice?”
“When have you slept with women?” Edmund demanded, because he had not known that. And it was the sort of thing he wanted to know. “Who did you sleep with?”
“I have to go now,” Peter said firmly, and pushed past them.
“Why doesn’t anyone want to sleep with me?” Edmund called after him. It wasn’t fair! Peter was only three years older than him, and Edmund was a king of Narnia too.
Susan hit him on the back of the head and picked up her skirts to run after Peter. “Don’t you want to hear about the negotiations?”
“Probably because you say things like that,” Lucy told Edmund serenely, following Susan sedately. “When do I get to go sailing?”
end
Timeline
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Date: 2008-08-04 12:48 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-04 02:43 am (UTC)