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bedlamsbardHi, let's have some fic. This is the deleted seventeenth scene from The White Harvest, which was cut because ending the story on the ~drama worked better than ending it with sex, politics, and good food. (Actually, it's a good thing I cut it. I only realized looking over it today that I had a major error in it.)
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to be back on solid land,” Peter said with a grateful sigh as he stretched out in the bathtub. “If I didn’t have to get back to Narnia somehow, I don’t think I’d ever leave it again.”
Osumare watched the line of his body appreciatively. “So you won’t be taking Her Majesty out for her birthday jaunt to Seven Isles, then?”
“Dear gods, what a horrible idea,” Peter said, then took a breath and ducked his head under the water. He emerged a moment later, golden hair turned dark and plastered to his skull. “I’m considering having someone give me a concussion for the trip back; at least I’ll have some kind of excuse for being sick the entire time.”
“You don’t trust Queen Lucy’s cordial?” Osumare said, pouring wine for both of them. He’d bathed already, but the High King had gone straight from the throne room to a private meeting with Prince Seabright, Queen Lucy, and Seabright’s remaining advisors regarding the prisoners on the Winter’s End, which was a meeting that Osumare had to admit he was heartily glad to have missed. They’d hashed something out, apparently, and then the High King had retreated to the rooms that had been prepared for him. He’d sent someone for Osumare, who was familiar enough with Peter’s moods after battle to come bearing food and wine. He had a sneaking suspicion that Fiorenza might arrive later too, so he’d brought three glasses.
“I don’t like Lu wasting it on something as minor as my inability to so much as look as a boat without being sick,” Peter said, picking up a sponge and scrubbing at his arms. “Besides, it doesn’t work if I’m not actually suffering from anything, and she’s likely to leave Terebinthia before we do.”
Osumare sighed.
“Sorry,” Peter said, not particularly sounding it. “I know you don’t like Terebinthia, but Lu was here for the embassy and the blockade, which leaves me with the mopping up. It will look better to Seabright if I do it, anyway. Will you hand me some of that wine?”
Osumare passed him a glass. “How is Prince Seabright taking it?”
“Sulking, but hiding it well.” He dropped the sponge and leaned back, holding the wine glass in one hand. “He wants Lord Admiral Breakwave back immediately, of course, so Lady Breakwave and the Crown are splitting the cost of the ransom and Saltensail will bring him back tomorrow, along with anyone else who can scrounge up the ransom money. We’ll talk trade agreements and military obligations tomorrow, along with taxes. All the fun things.”
“I trust I won’t be needed for that?” Osumare asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
Peter put the glass down, picking up the sponge again. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I’ve been thinking about making you governor. Or consul, I’m not sure which title I should go with. Not for long,” he added, seeing Osumare’s horrified expression. “Just a few months, to keep an eye on Seabright –”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Osumare said firmly. “Someone else, maybe – Lord Peridan would be a good choice. Not me. I’m a sailor, not a diplomat, and I’m not very popular in Terebinthia. Piracy, you know.”
“You’d get to see your family,” Peter said mildly. His head was bent down as he scrubbed at his legs, one pale knee protruding from the bathwater. Osumare couldn’t see his face.
“Someone told you about Adan,” Osumare said, sighing.
“I’m High King of Narnia. People like to tell me things.” He emerged from the water again, reaching for the wine glass. “Family is important.”
“I have very little interest in renewing my acquaintance with my family,” Osumare said firmly. “Adan’s welcome to go back to Whitetyde and tell everyone I’m still alive and fighting for the enemy –”
“We’re not the enemy,” Peter pointed out.
“Mmm. Well, I refuse to go back. There’s a reason I left.”
“I won’t force you,” Peter said. He emerged dripping from the bathwater, toweling himself dry before belting on a dressing gown and dropping into a chair. “Peridan, do you think? Well, he hasn’t had any prior involvement with Terebinthia, so he won’t have any prejudices and Seabright and his lot won’t have anything to complain about, since he’s nobly-born and titled.” He reached for the tray of food Osumare had brought in, setting the silver lid aside. There was a bowl of mixed-fish stew, yellow from saffron and with small octopus tentacles, whole shrimp, and mussels still in the shell protruding from the bowl; toasts anointed with garlic and olive oil; grape leaves stuffed with pine nuts, currants, and golden raisins; meatballs made of ground lamb and fragrant with the scent of mint; finished off with fried pastry ribbons drenched in a sweet honey syrup and sprinkled with sugar-crusted almonds.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Peter said after the first bite. “I may have to stay here just for the food. Did you eat?” he added, thrusting a stuffed grape leaf at Osumare.
“I did,” Osumare assured him, though he didn’t refuse the grape leaf. “I checked everything for poison.”
“And just like that you can ruin a perfectly good meal,” Peter said, sighing.
“Although I’m not dead yet, so everything must be all right.”
They looked up as the door opened and Fiorenza slipped inside. Osumare caught a glimpse of Peter’s Guard lurking in the hallway outside before the door swung shut.
“I hear you two had all the fun,” said Fiorenza, pulling over another chair. She took the glass of wine Osumare offered her, stealing a pastry ribbon off Peter’s plate. She ate it, then licked her fingers clean of the syrup, smiling at Osumare and Peter.
“I’m not really sure ‘fun’ is the right way to describe it,” Osumare said, leaning back in his seat.
“Well, Lord Admiral Breakwave and Prince Seabright certainly wouldn’t do so,” Peter pointed out. He pushed the empty bowl of soup aside, alternating grape leaves with meatballs.
“If Prince Seabright didn’t want to fight, he shouldn’t have started blustering about doing so,” Fiorenza said mercilessly. She kicked her feet up and sat back in her chair, her eyes drifting shut as she undid the top few buttons on her shirt. “Malgarini have mercy, it’s hot here and it’s not even midsummer yet,” she added. “What do you do when it gets to deep summer?”
“Sleep through the hottest parts of the day,” Osumare said, letting his gaze settle on the hint of her cleavage revealed by her partially open shirt. She smiled back at him.
Peter made an appreciative noise, pushing the tray away and putting the lid back on over the decimated remains. “Enough with the politics,” he said, gesturing them both in with a flick of his wrist. Osumare came, grinning. “To the victors go the spoils.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been so glad to be back on solid land,” Peter said with a grateful sigh as he stretched out in the bathtub. “If I didn’t have to get back to Narnia somehow, I don’t think I’d ever leave it again.”
Osumare watched the line of his body appreciatively. “So you won’t be taking Her Majesty out for her birthday jaunt to Seven Isles, then?”
“Dear gods, what a horrible idea,” Peter said, then took a breath and ducked his head under the water. He emerged a moment later, golden hair turned dark and plastered to his skull. “I’m considering having someone give me a concussion for the trip back; at least I’ll have some kind of excuse for being sick the entire time.”
“You don’t trust Queen Lucy’s cordial?” Osumare said, pouring wine for both of them. He’d bathed already, but the High King had gone straight from the throne room to a private meeting with Prince Seabright, Queen Lucy, and Seabright’s remaining advisors regarding the prisoners on the Winter’s End, which was a meeting that Osumare had to admit he was heartily glad to have missed. They’d hashed something out, apparently, and then the High King had retreated to the rooms that had been prepared for him. He’d sent someone for Osumare, who was familiar enough with Peter’s moods after battle to come bearing food and wine. He had a sneaking suspicion that Fiorenza might arrive later too, so he’d brought three glasses.
“I don’t like Lu wasting it on something as minor as my inability to so much as look as a boat without being sick,” Peter said, picking up a sponge and scrubbing at his arms. “Besides, it doesn’t work if I’m not actually suffering from anything, and she’s likely to leave Terebinthia before we do.”
Osumare sighed.
“Sorry,” Peter said, not particularly sounding it. “I know you don’t like Terebinthia, but Lu was here for the embassy and the blockade, which leaves me with the mopping up. It will look better to Seabright if I do it, anyway. Will you hand me some of that wine?”
Osumare passed him a glass. “How is Prince Seabright taking it?”
“Sulking, but hiding it well.” He dropped the sponge and leaned back, holding the wine glass in one hand. “He wants Lord Admiral Breakwave back immediately, of course, so Lady Breakwave and the Crown are splitting the cost of the ransom and Saltensail will bring him back tomorrow, along with anyone else who can scrounge up the ransom money. We’ll talk trade agreements and military obligations tomorrow, along with taxes. All the fun things.”
“I trust I won’t be needed for that?” Osumare asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
Peter put the glass down, picking up the sponge again. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I’ve been thinking about making you governor. Or consul, I’m not sure which title I should go with. Not for long,” he added, seeing Osumare’s horrified expression. “Just a few months, to keep an eye on Seabright –”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Osumare said firmly. “Someone else, maybe – Lord Peridan would be a good choice. Not me. I’m a sailor, not a diplomat, and I’m not very popular in Terebinthia. Piracy, you know.”
“You’d get to see your family,” Peter said mildly. His head was bent down as he scrubbed at his legs, one pale knee protruding from the bathwater. Osumare couldn’t see his face.
“Someone told you about Adan,” Osumare said, sighing.
“I’m High King of Narnia. People like to tell me things.” He emerged from the water again, reaching for the wine glass. “Family is important.”
“I have very little interest in renewing my acquaintance with my family,” Osumare said firmly. “Adan’s welcome to go back to Whitetyde and tell everyone I’m still alive and fighting for the enemy –”
“We’re not the enemy,” Peter pointed out.
“Mmm. Well, I refuse to go back. There’s a reason I left.”
“I won’t force you,” Peter said. He emerged dripping from the bathwater, toweling himself dry before belting on a dressing gown and dropping into a chair. “Peridan, do you think? Well, he hasn’t had any prior involvement with Terebinthia, so he won’t have any prejudices and Seabright and his lot won’t have anything to complain about, since he’s nobly-born and titled.” He reached for the tray of food Osumare had brought in, setting the silver lid aside. There was a bowl of mixed-fish stew, yellow from saffron and with small octopus tentacles, whole shrimp, and mussels still in the shell protruding from the bowl; toasts anointed with garlic and olive oil; grape leaves stuffed with pine nuts, currants, and golden raisins; meatballs made of ground lamb and fragrant with the scent of mint; finished off with fried pastry ribbons drenched in a sweet honey syrup and sprinkled with sugar-crusted almonds.
“I’ve changed my mind,” Peter said after the first bite. “I may have to stay here just for the food. Did you eat?” he added, thrusting a stuffed grape leaf at Osumare.
“I did,” Osumare assured him, though he didn’t refuse the grape leaf. “I checked everything for poison.”
“And just like that you can ruin a perfectly good meal,” Peter said, sighing.
“Although I’m not dead yet, so everything must be all right.”
They looked up as the door opened and Fiorenza slipped inside. Osumare caught a glimpse of Peter’s Guard lurking in the hallway outside before the door swung shut.
“I hear you two had all the fun,” said Fiorenza, pulling over another chair. She took the glass of wine Osumare offered her, stealing a pastry ribbon off Peter’s plate. She ate it, then licked her fingers clean of the syrup, smiling at Osumare and Peter.
“I’m not really sure ‘fun’ is the right way to describe it,” Osumare said, leaning back in his seat.
“Well, Lord Admiral Breakwave and Prince Seabright certainly wouldn’t do so,” Peter pointed out. He pushed the empty bowl of soup aside, alternating grape leaves with meatballs.
“If Prince Seabright didn’t want to fight, he shouldn’t have started blustering about doing so,” Fiorenza said mercilessly. She kicked her feet up and sat back in her chair, her eyes drifting shut as she undid the top few buttons on her shirt. “Malgarini have mercy, it’s hot here and it’s not even midsummer yet,” she added. “What do you do when it gets to deep summer?”
“Sleep through the hottest parts of the day,” Osumare said, letting his gaze settle on the hint of her cleavage revealed by her partially open shirt. She smiled back at him.
Peter made an appreciative noise, pushing the tray away and putting the lid back on over the decimated remains. “Enough with the politics,” he said, gesturing them both in with a flick of his wrist. Osumare came, grinning. “To the victors go the spoils.”
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-24 11:01 pm (UTC)So Peter knows about Osumare's brother, hmm? And yay for a Peridan mention! I don't think I've ever read about him in any of your stories before.
And that food description is making me hungry. Not a fan of lamb, but I could go for the fish stew and the pastries. The descriptions reminded me a little of Spanish cuisine mixed in with Mediterranean. Yum.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-25 12:46 am (UTC)Peter knows everything, because people always tell him things, even when he really doesn't want to know. (Though this wasn't in that category.)
This is actually the first time Peridan's ever been mentioned, though I do have backstory for him. And, um, the major error I mentioned in the headnotes? I'd flipped Peridan and Drinian. *facepalm*
The food descriptions are from a Greek cookbook I have. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-25 03:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-26 10:52 pm (UTC)My job here is done. :)
I am also curious what Fio is thinking! Perhaps we'll find out someday.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-25 02:37 pm (UTC)I like the quiet domesticity of this.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-26 10:58 pm (UTC)I'm glad you liked it!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-27 06:22 am (UTC)Very smile-inducing, though I think I like ending the main story where it ends better.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-27 09:54 pm (UTC)Greek food is not that easy to find in my small hometown, either. *sighs*