Fic: To See Him Go
Title: To See Him Go
Author: aella_irene
Rating: PG
Warnings: Incest (in universe). Implied death.
Summary: I loved him so, /Broke my heart to see him go Marcellus of Narnia has disappeared. A sequel to Rogue's March.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Some characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to Walden Media.
"Your Majesty, wake up!"
Alambil turns over in bed, only half awake, and resists the urge to curl back under the covers and tell whoever it is to come back when its light. But she can't do that, not anymore, so instead she pushes herself up onto her elbows, and regards Chasaye, the head of her Guard, through her tangling hair.
"What is it?"
"Prince Marcellus, my lady. He's gone."
Alambil's stomach drops, and she throws the covers back, uncaring of her nakedness, reaching for a pair of breeches. Not Marcellus, not another brother.
"Did anyone see who took him?" she demands, and Chasaye scratches the floor, looking nervous, insofar as a panther can look nervous.
"He wasn't taken," she says, and Alambil almost drops her corset.
"Then what-"
"He left. To join the Red Company. Prince Valentine found him, and Prince Marcellus locked him in the Little Treasury."
Alambil sits down on her bed. Hard.
"Marcellus has gone to join the Red Company," she says slowly, and that is when Eddard bursts in and says, "Ala, have you heard about Marcellus?"
*
Quarter of an hour later, when everyone gathers in the little drawing room, Alambil has gone through disbelief, straight to utter fury.
"I'll go after him," she says, pacing the long Calormene carpet, "I'll drag him back by his hair and I'll- Val how could you let him do this?"
"I didn't let him do anything," Val says carefully, and winces as Cosetta dabs at his swollen jaw with bruise salve, "He punched me, and locked me in the Little Treasury!"
"I am going to lock him in a dungeon until he comes to his senses!" Alambil shrieks, and punches the wall, narrowly missing a Mattie vase. She barely notices when it splits her knuckles.
"No," Victoria says slowly, "You're not."
"Aunt Victoria!" Alambil protests, because of course she is. That is what you do when your siblings are being idiots, you sit on them until they stop.
"He is perfectly within his rights to join the Red Company," Victoria says, "We might wish that he had bothered to formally resign from the Army, but there is nothing other than that to stop him."
"He's one of the heirs!" Val protests, and winces.
"And he can give that up," Victoria says, "I was under the impression that you had noticed that your sister Susanna is not in the line of succession, despite the fact that she's older than you and Marcellus. She gave it up, at the age of fourteen. Marcellus can give it up as well, though we will need to forward him the paperwork. It is most inconvenient. Alambil, do sit down, you're going to give us all neck strain watching you, pacing about like a caged tiger."
"That's another thing," says Eddard, "He's taken some of his Guard, and his horses, and technically that's desertion!"
"We can drag them back!" Alambil decides, jumping up from her chair. And Marcellus will follow them, and realise what a fool he's being-
"Ala," says Aunt Victoria, and Alambil turns on her.
"Just because you're made of stone-" she starts, and then stops, because Victoria is crying, silently, tears running down her cheeks and falling to the fine dark linen of her mourning dress.
"So what do we do?" Eddard asks, and kicks a log in the fireplace, "Wave them goodbye, and send him a present at Christmas?"
"We don't make it so that he can't come back," says Victoria firmly, "He may have deserted us, but we cannot, we must not, banish him. Not if we want him back."
The door slams open, and Aunt Nerissa limps in, hand white on her cane.
"We've questioned the Guard," she says, easing slowly onto a chair, "They say they don't know anything, that he told no one. And he left a letter."
"What!" demands Alambil, turning on her, "A letter?"
"Here."
Victoria takes it, and Alambil reads over her shoulder. It is carefully written, far neater than Marcellus's usual scrawl.
I, Marcellus Pevensie, Prince of Narnia, Duke of Geb Gearding, and Earl of the Western March, Lord of Cair Paravel, do hereby give up my rights in the matter of the succession of Narnia, and its tributaries, on my own behalf and on that of my children yet to come-.
"I hate him," Alambil breathes, "I hate him," and she feels tears begin to slip, slowly, down her cheeks.
Author: aella_irene
Rating: PG
Warnings: Incest (in universe). Implied death.
Summary: I loved him so, /Broke my heart to see him go Marcellus of Narnia has disappeared. A sequel to Rogue's March.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, situations, settings, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Some characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to Walden Media.
"Your Majesty, wake up!"
Alambil turns over in bed, only half awake, and resists the urge to curl back under the covers and tell whoever it is to come back when its light. But she can't do that, not anymore, so instead she pushes herself up onto her elbows, and regards Chasaye, the head of her Guard, through her tangling hair.
"What is it?"
"Prince Marcellus, my lady. He's gone."
Alambil's stomach drops, and she throws the covers back, uncaring of her nakedness, reaching for a pair of breeches. Not Marcellus, not another brother.
"Did anyone see who took him?" she demands, and Chasaye scratches the floor, looking nervous, insofar as a panther can look nervous.
"He wasn't taken," she says, and Alambil almost drops her corset.
"Then what-"
"He left. To join the Red Company. Prince Valentine found him, and Prince Marcellus locked him in the Little Treasury."
Alambil sits down on her bed. Hard.
"Marcellus has gone to join the Red Company," she says slowly, and that is when Eddard bursts in and says, "Ala, have you heard about Marcellus?"
*
Quarter of an hour later, when everyone gathers in the little drawing room, Alambil has gone through disbelief, straight to utter fury.
"I'll go after him," she says, pacing the long Calormene carpet, "I'll drag him back by his hair and I'll- Val how could you let him do this?"
"I didn't let him do anything," Val says carefully, and winces as Cosetta dabs at his swollen jaw with bruise salve, "He punched me, and locked me in the Little Treasury!"
"I am going to lock him in a dungeon until he comes to his senses!" Alambil shrieks, and punches the wall, narrowly missing a Mattie vase. She barely notices when it splits her knuckles.
"No," Victoria says slowly, "You're not."
"Aunt Victoria!" Alambil protests, because of course she is. That is what you do when your siblings are being idiots, you sit on them until they stop.
"He is perfectly within his rights to join the Red Company," Victoria says, "We might wish that he had bothered to formally resign from the Army, but there is nothing other than that to stop him."
"He's one of the heirs!" Val protests, and winces.
"And he can give that up," Victoria says, "I was under the impression that you had noticed that your sister Susanna is not in the line of succession, despite the fact that she's older than you and Marcellus. She gave it up, at the age of fourteen. Marcellus can give it up as well, though we will need to forward him the paperwork. It is most inconvenient. Alambil, do sit down, you're going to give us all neck strain watching you, pacing about like a caged tiger."
"That's another thing," says Eddard, "He's taken some of his Guard, and his horses, and technically that's desertion!"
"We can drag them back!" Alambil decides, jumping up from her chair. And Marcellus will follow them, and realise what a fool he's being-
"Ala," says Aunt Victoria, and Alambil turns on her.
"Just because you're made of stone-" she starts, and then stops, because Victoria is crying, silently, tears running down her cheeks and falling to the fine dark linen of her mourning dress.
"So what do we do?" Eddard asks, and kicks a log in the fireplace, "Wave them goodbye, and send him a present at Christmas?"
"We don't make it so that he can't come back," says Victoria firmly, "He may have deserted us, but we cannot, we must not, banish him. Not if we want him back."
The door slams open, and Aunt Nerissa limps in, hand white on her cane.
"We've questioned the Guard," she says, easing slowly onto a chair, "They say they don't know anything, that he told no one. And he left a letter."
"What!" demands Alambil, turning on her, "A letter?"
"Here."
Victoria takes it, and Alambil reads over her shoulder. It is carefully written, far neater than Marcellus's usual scrawl.
I, Marcellus Pevensie, Prince of Narnia, Duke of Geb Gearding, and Earl of the Western March, Lord of Cair Paravel, do hereby give up my rights in the matter of the succession of Narnia, and its tributaries, on my own behalf and on that of my children yet to come-.
"I hate him," Alambil breathes, "I hate him," and she feels tears begin to slip, slowly, down her cheeks.