Jump in the Fire (4/4)
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In the end, they send King Edmund and Prince Kitay. Princess Saiet volunteers, but is rejected because, as Victoria says, "You just want to say something shocking and watch them choke. I know you."
"You can do that at the wedding," suggests King Jack, and Victoria kicks him.
They return with identical and fiendish smirks on their faces.
"Did you ever notice," Prince Kitay says thoughtfully to Caspian, "that when your uncle is angry, he looks just like a frog?"
"No," says Caspian, "I can't say I ever did."
Glozelle has.
"I think he might actually have had a heart attack," King Edmund says, "Just a little one. Then he said he'd think about it. Queen Prunaprismia insists she's coming, though."
The messenger arrives two hours later, accepting the invitation on behalf of Queen Prunaprismia, Lord Sopespian, and sundry members of their respective retinues. Victoria says "Oh, good," and hurries off to have her dress fitted. There has been much argument about whether she can wear her coronation robes, which ended in the decision that she could, but she'd better wear something else underneath.
The hours leading up to the wedding seem to comprise mainly of various Pevensies (including, somewhat surprisingly, Prince Neris) decorating and the rest of the family sharpening weapons and carefully stationing members of the army at alternately conspicuous and inconspicuous intervals.
"Weddings," Queen Susan explains to Glozelle, probably the first five words she's offered him at any one time, "are a fantastic time for an attack. It's everyone important all in the same place, theoretically distracted by the bride and groom -- or grooms, at this occasion. Assassins always think that no one will expect an attack."
"Ah," Glozelle says, because for all that Queen Susan looks even younger than Victoria, there's something about her -- about all the elder Pevensies, really -- that's just disconcerting. "You know from experience --"
"Unfortunately," she says, and smiles. "Ask Ed and Lu about the mess surrounding what happened when Peter and I got married sometime, if you'd like. And Helen and Jack and Richard's wedding went off marvelously, for all that they don't know what happened behind the scenes. I'd rather it stayed that way, as well. Anything that happens here will just be keeping with family tradition."
It is at that point that King Jack, King Richard, Prince Kitay and Prince Neris all descend upon him.
"We've managed to scrounge up some clothes," Prince Neris explains, as they drag him off to someone else's bedroom, "But we're not quite sure of the fit. Here!" He thrusts some garments into Glozelle's hand, and pushes him behind - where on earth did they get a screen?
"Father and Uncle Peter are doing Caspian," explains Prince Kitay, as Glozelle strips off his own clothes, and puts on the new ones. They are clearly high quality, silks and velvets, and fit surprisingly well. He steps out from behind the screen, and Prince Neris descends upon him with a pair of small scissors and some pins, as the others all make suggestions.
By the time he's finished, the fit is even better.
"Never let it be said," Neris says with satisfaction, "that I do not marry my relatives off in good style."
"That would be far more convincing," says Kitay, "if your contribution to Cottia's wedding hadn't been to stand on a table singing all twenty verses of the hedgehog song."
"The hedgehog song?" asks Glozelle, who can't decide if he wants to know or not. Neris looks as if he is about to demonstrate, but before he can begin, Richard wraps his hand around his mouth and says "Don't you dare."
"Uh e ahs'd!" Neris protests.
"I don't care," says Richard, "I was the one who got to explain to Susanna that that was not how sex worked. Never again."
Neris looks as if he would like to argue the point, but that is when the door swings open, everyone reaches for their weapons, and a faun squeaks, "Majesties, highnesses, the Telmarines are here!"
"They're early," groans Jack, "Shall I go-"
"No," the other three chorus.
"I'll go," says Prince Kitay, and runs out of the door.
*
Victoria has been here before, but never on the receiving end; it's one thing entirely to be one of the people flitting around the bride with strands of gold and pearls and silk scarves and quite another thing entirely to be the one being flitted around.
"You can't expect me to wear that under my gown!" she squeaks at one point. "It's -- I'm not actually sure there's any fabric there!"
"That's because the grooms are supposed to rip it off you," Saiet says, with a gleam in her eye that may be more wicked than excited. "I still say that the consummation should be public. You know, in case the Telmarines are convinced it's all a trick."
"No, thank you," Victoria says firmly.
"It's very traditional," Helen says. "Jack and Richard and I had to -- in an open field, at that, because Narnia insisted --"
"Peter and I did," Susan says. "Though that had somewhat less to do with the fact it was a festival night --"
They all shudder collectively, some of them with anticipation and some of them with just plain understanding. Festivals can be very -- heady. And some of the shuddering just has to do with the fact that Victoria and Helen's mother is talking about her wedding night.
"-- and somewhat more to do with the fact that half the continent was convinced that we were just putting on a show."
"Oh," Victoria says uncertainly. "Perhaps you -- have a point --"
"I'll tell Caspian!" Saiet announces, throwing an armful of brightly colored silk up into the air.
"We haven't actually come to a decision!" Victoria shrieks, shedding cousins in all directions as she picks up her skirts and sprints after her.
Unfortunately, she doesn't catch her in time, as Saiet runs through the door and shuts it, calling, "You can't let the groom see you before the ceremony!"
Victoria thumps the door so hard that her hand smarts, then stands there, glaring at it. Saiet does have a point, but it wasn't the first time for her parents, or for Jack, Richard and Helen, and yes, she has some modesty. She doesn't want to put on a show.
Inside, Caspian squawks, and then her father opens the door and hauls Saiet into the corridor.
"Have you agreed to this, Victoria?"
"No."
"Then you don't have to do it. Saiet, not a word. We'll display the bedsheets, and that ought to be enough."
"But -"
"Victoria doesn't want to do it, and nor does Caspian, and they don't have to do anything they don't want to, understand?"
"Yes," Saiet says sulkily.
"Good, now, go and help Victoria finished getting dressed. Vicky, love, you look beautiful."
He kisses her on the cheek, then goes back inside, and they walk back to Victoria's room, Saiet looking mutinous.
"Uncle said no," she announces.
"Good," says Helen, looking at Victoria's flushed cheeks, "Lord Sopespian strikes me as the kind who stares."
"You haven't met him!"
"He made an impression on Dickie. Now -" this to Victoria, “- hold still for your crown."
She lifts it from its wrappings, a filigree-work diadem and tiara, studded with pearls and diamonds, and places it carefully on Victoria's head, fitting around the pattern of plaits. Susan pins it in, hands careful and familiar, and Victoria suddenly wants to cry.
The rest of them get dressed in record time; there are lots of helping hands and they've all done this before. Susan and Helen are resplendent in royal regalia; Victoria has never seen her mother so young, glowing with pleasure. This must be what Susan looked like on the day she was crowned; she can't help but wonder if her father and her aunt and uncle look the same.
Then they all get down to the serious business of arming themselves. She can't even say this is any kind of excessive; they've done this as long as Victoria can remember, because it's needful. The Telmarines -- may or may not notice.
"Come here, Vicky," Susan says, and slides a pair of jewel-hilted stilettos into her hair, then throwing knives on the insides of her wrists, a long dagger strapped to her thigh, the long golden belt a chain she can use to strangle someone. There's more, she's sure; Helen's wearing her sword for the world to see, though Susan isn't wearing her quiver. It's somewhat harder to pass that off as an accessory.
Uncle Edmund opens the door and puts his head in. "Ready?" he asks.
Susan's smile is warm and delighted. "I think so," she says.
They bustle her to an antechamber off the main hall, then everyone but Helen and her mother leave to take their places.
"You look beautiful," says her mother, and kisses her, "I never thought I'd see this, and I'm, I'm so glad." She can't continue, just kisses Victoria again, and leaves.
"I - I always thought that if we did this, I'd be explaining the wedding night," says Helen, "But you've obviously worked that bit out for yourself."
"I knew already."
"Yes, but I still needed to give you an embarrassing talk. It’s tradition. Mama did it to me. But I decided that, as she's had it with you so recently, I can't."
"Thank you."
"I love you," says Helen, kisses her, and leaves.
Her father enters, tall and glorious in his own formal clothes, silks and satins and his crown gleaming in his hair, Rhindon hanging at his side, shimmering like the water of Glasswater Bay.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Ready," she confirms, and he takes her arm, making an almost imperceptible gesture. There is a moment, and then the trumpets start, piping their fanfares, the notes curling around each other. Her father places a reassuring hand on her own, and leads her out.
There are so many people, is her first thought, native Narnians on the right, Telmarines on the left, (Lord Sopespian looking angry, Prunaprismia looking misty), and her family spread between them, along the aisle. Her mother and Helen are at the very front, flanked by Richard and Jack respectively. And beyond them stand Caspian and Glozelle. Her heart lifts, and oh, once upon a time she thought that novelists who wrote things like that were exaggerating, but they're not, it’s true.
They reach the end of the aisle, and stop.
She has no memory of the ceremony. If pressed, she might later be able to come up with a few flashes, but they are only images, not true memories. She remembers the careful pressure of Caspian's lips on hers, Glozelle's deeper kiss, then the moment where they looked unsure whether or not they were supposed to kiss each other as well. She doesn't remember if they had or not.
She remembers the sound of her father's voice, but not the words.
She remembers Helen's hug afterwards, and Jack's and Richard's, and the sound of Tahmoh and Cressida's wild hawk-screeches of excitement.
The feast afterwards is somewhat clearer. This is not Cair Paravel, will never be Cair Paravel, and here at the How they can do nothing to rival the feasts that had been held for every wedding in Victoria's memory, but they try and they pull off what they do rather marvelously.
All three of them drink from the same goblet, as is both Narnian and Telmarine tradition. Lord Sopespian looks as if his food is giving him indigestion, even more so after Saiet starts flirting with him, and affording him looks down her bosom. Prunaprismia congratulates them, apparently sincerely, and ends up talking baby-care with Helen, Susan and Nerissa.
Her memories begin properly, so clear and distinct that thirty years later she can look back, and cherish the memory, when her father declares that it is time for the bedding, and her stomach drops. She is carried, by her cousins, and thank heavens that Lord Sopespian is on the edges, because he'd probably grope her, to the bedchamber. Glozelle and Caspian are carried by the women, and she can hear Saiet making rude jokes, and Tahmoh and Cressida hooting with laughter, and she is suddenly so scared, so very scared, in a way she wasn't when she took Glozelle to bed, because at least it wasn't so very public, so nerve-wracking, and she was buoyed up on wine and lack of sleep besides, more confident than she might have been.
They are all three deposited on the bed, (and someone has changed the sheets, these are silk, brought from Cair Paravel at Kitay's suggestion, she has no idea why) and then her parents take charge of kicking everyone out. She stares at the bedclothes, at the weave of the silk, until the door slams shut behind them, and then lifts her eyes to look at Caspian and Glozelle.
*
The moment the door closes behind his sister and her new husbands, Sopespian snarls, "So, King Peter, what is this supposed to prove? Anything besides the fact that you would whore out --"
Susan doesn't even try to stop Peter from punching him in the face.
He staggers to his feet, nose bloodied, and Helen snarls, "You, sirrah, will answer for that on the field of honor! If you have any, which I doubt, because you would appear to have crawled out from under a rock."
"I would not demean myself so far as to fight with a woman," Sopespian says through his broken nose, and Helen says, "Yes, you will you coward," and slaps him on both cheeks, then draws Nightsbane, "or shall I horsewhip you? Your choice?"
"Majesty!" Sopespian says to Prunaprismia, "Surely you will not-"
"Your language was intemperate, and utterly disgraceful. You will answer for it, here and now."
"Well," Jack says, "not here, as we wouldn't want to distract them. In front of the How?"
Minutes later, they are in front of the How, Sopespian alone with sword in hand, Helen surrounded by cousins as lights are rigged. Prunaprismia takes a seat next to Queen Susan, who is holding Flavian, brought down by one of the dryads who felt that he ought to be there.
It would be all too easy for the fight to be to the death -- and Helen is tempted to let her sword slip, but that might call into doubt her swordsmanship and Narnia's honor -- but instead it is only too first blood (which, technically, her father may have earned, but that was outside the constraints of the duel) and Helen contents herself with a slash across his sword-arm that will pain him and slow him in a battle. Sopespian's blade doesn't even touch her.
Afterwards, he stands quite still, shivering with rage, his gaze occasionally flickering to the spot where Peter is watching with cool bemusement, his thumb on the quillions of his sword. Not resting there, not drawn, but a quiet promise.
"You will make a full apology to my father and to my family," Helen says, lifting Nightsbane to point at him. "Right here, and right now."
"Lord Miraz will hear of this insult!" Sopespian bursts out.
"Yes," Queen Prunaprismia declares, "he will, I assure you, my lord."
"Well?" Helen asks. "Or should I blood you again? Or shall I get the horsewhip?"
Sopespian bows his head, slowly, and grits out, "I apologize, my lady. I misspoke."
"You did more than that," Helen says, resheathing Nightsbane, "But I'll take that for now. I wouldn't want to send you into an apoplexy."
And then she turns her back, and even as she realizes what she's done she is thinking Stupid and turning back, and that is what saves her life, because Sopespian's blade, instead of going through her heart, rips messily through her shoulder, and she doesn't think she screams but she can't honestly tell because the pain, fuck, the pain, and she can hear someone who must be Prunaprismia screaming, and her mother has handed her the baby and is running forward to Helen, and her father flops to his knees beside her and she is on the ground why is she on the ground? and someone is shouting, and the candles are wavering, turning into Halos, and she sees Iulius, standing before one of them, looking at her with horror in his eyes, and she wants to talk to him, wants to say I'm sorry but the blackness envelops her before she can.
*
When she wakes, it's to Victoria curled against her side, warm and comforting.
"Vicky --" Helen croaks, reaching for her, and Victoria jerks upright.
"Helen!" she exclaims, and falls on her neck, face buried in Helen's shoulder.
"Oof," Helen says breathlessly, raising her arms to hug her sister. "What happened?" Because her shoulder doesn't hurt at all, not even a dull ache, and shouldn't Victoria be elsewhere?
"Papa took Sopespian's head off," Jack says from the doorway, coming over to her with Richard just behind him and putting his arms around Helen, bringing Victoria into the fourway hug too. "And then went personally to deliver it. He and Mama aren't back yet. Queen Prunaprismia's here, under a heavy guard, along with the rest of the Telmarine delegation except for three lords who got to go back and deliver the news."
"Aunt Lucy got to you with her cordial," Richard adds, his breath warm in her hair. "Thank the Seven."
"Vicky," she says later, once Vicky has let go, and is simply lying next to her instead of holding on like an octopus, "I spoilt your wedding night, I'm so sorry."
"'S fine," Vicky says, "You just delayed it a bit, we can get ourselves sorted out later."
"And any more than that," says Richard, "is more than I want to know."
*
Dawn is coming as they march to the Telmarine camp, Peter, Susan, Neris, Kitay and three terrified Telmarine lords, with Sopespian's head in a bag. It is chilly, but though Susan is still in her evening dress, now stained with Helen's blood, and wears no cloak, her fury keeps her warm. Sopespian hurt her daughter, stabbed her in the back, and had she got there first she would have ripped his throat out with her bare hands, but she was trying to hold Helen's shoulder together, screaming for Lucy, when Peter took his head off with a single blow. Helen is asleep now, frighteningly pale, with Victoria curled around her. They called Victoria as soon as Helen was in her bed, and she came running, wearing nothing but Caspian's tunic, which hung down over her thighs, but no further, and even Saiet did not make a joke. Glozelle and Caspian sat with her, watching them both sleep, until Susan was sure that Helen was not going to stop breathing, and it was time to leave, and then they went to talk to the Telmarine lords.
Miraz meets them at the entrance to the camp, frowning as he sees them.
"So," he says. "Is this your Narnian hospitality, to keep my wife and bring back but three of my men?"
"Four," says Peter, and tosses the bag to the ground. Sopespian's head rolls out, landing, eyes upward, in the mud between Miraz's feet.
Miraz doesn't even have a chance to say anything before Peter has a hand around his throat, bearing him back against a tent post as his men start to move and Susan draws her bow, the kiss-ring on the arrow touching the edge of her mouth. Try me, she wants to scream. Give me an excuse, just give me an reason.
Peter doesn't even have his sword in his hand. "Is this your honor," he says, very softly, "is this your Telmarine honor, that you would send a man to my daughter's wedding who would stab a sovereign of Narnia in the back?"
Miraz's gaze flickers down to Sopespian's head. "You demean me with your accusations --"
"No," Peter says, "No, I don't think I do at all. After all, you sent assassins to your own nephew's bedchamber; why should you stint at sending them to his wedding?
"Do I look like a man who would endanger his wife so?" Miraz gasps.
"I don't know. But you look like a man who will try to kill his nephew." He raises his voice. "Hear this! This man attacked my daughter, and it is only by the grace of my sister Queen Lucy and the gift of Father Christmas that she lived! This man first insulted my younger daughter, and then my elder, and then, when she had beaten him in a fair fight, stabbed her in the back! I call upon these Lords to testify that it is so."
"It is so," says one of them, short, with a goatee, voice loud and clear. His companions are less enthusiastic, but in the end they too acquiesce. Peter lets Miraz go, brushing his hands contemptuously.
"I will meet you on the field of honor soon, Lord Miraz, and I hope that you will be more honorable then. As for your wife, what she does is her choice."
He lets go of Miraz with a jerk, the marks of his fingers standing out red on his throat, and says softly, "You I look forward to killing," before he turns away.
Susan watches Miraz deliberately struggle with the urge not to follow Sopespian's example and stab him in the back, but Sopespian's head is still lying on the ground, staring sightlessly at him, and all his men are watching.
They leave in silence, and none of the Telmarines raise a hand against them.
Once they're in the trees, out of sight of the camp, Peter takes Susan's face in his hands and kisses her, hard, before he says, "Susan, our daughters --"
"I know," she says, cupping his face in one hand. "I know."
And when they get back to the How, Helen is awake and Victoria is with her.
*
Once their parents are back, Victoria leaves Helen, who is looking sleepy again, and goes back to her room, where Glozelle and Caspian are waiting. She doesn't say a thing, just climbs onto the bed, and Glozelle holds her, and Caspian does too more tentatively, and she takes a deep shuddering breath, and reminds herself that Helen is alive, but it is still so raw, the feeling of loss, and she lived more than twenty years after Helen died and never stopped looking for her sister, and she is so used to this, and she hates it, so used to sitting by Helen's bedside as she wakes from battle wounds, or that long horrible night when Iulius was born and they waited to see if she was going to wake up at all, paler than her pillows as a wet-nurse fed the baby, and Victoria prayed to every god she'd ever heard of, Let her live. I'll do anything if you just let her live.
She doesn't realize she is weeping until Caspian wipes the tears from her cheeks, fingers gentle against her skin.
*
Jack has memories of doing this as a child, he and Richard careful with Peter's armor, as though they've never touched anything more delicate or more precious, even though their father's armor has been with him through numerous battles, even though it's protected him against dragonfire and Calormene swords and Archenlander arrows and wolves' teeth and kraken's suckers. (Or hat it really? He can't remember the truth, just the stories.) It doesn't stop him being careful with it, the chain links as fine and smooth as silk beneath his hands, the velvet of his tabard a little rougher.
Did you do this when you were a boy for your father, Papa? Richard asked once, and Jack remembers the look on his father's face.
I have no memory of being a child, Peter had said.
Richard is with Helen, so Jack is as careful with his father's armor as he ever was as a boy, making sure it's immaculate, that there are no weak spots in the mail, that the leather is strong, that the plate is undented. When he was a child, this had been the most important thing in the world to him.
"Jack." His father's voice is rough, tired, and he turns around.
"Papa," he says.
Peter is still in his finery from the previous night, wrinkled and blood-stained. He hasn't even taken his crown off. "Come here," he says, and Jack goes to hug him like he's six-years-old again and his father is fresh from the battlefield, the most important person in the world.
"Are you ready?" he asks.
"Yes."
He takes his bag. Aunt Lucy will have her cordial, but still, the presence of the bag comforts him. They walk down in silence- his father always preferred it that way, to have a chance to think, and are met by Richard and Helen, (who is in full mail, and Jack opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it), then Glozelle, Vicky, and Caspian, (all of whom are armed). Whatever happens, none of them are expecting the Telmarines to act honourably, and give up if Peter loses.
It is only them at the foot of the How, watching the duel, the others are to watch from above, ready with weapons in case something happens. Saiet has been sitting with her feet in the cavern stream all night, and when he last saw her, told him that, when the signal was given, she could raise the water.
They have a chance. Whatever happens, they have a chance, maybe even an even one.
They take position, Helen and Victoria sitting, each flanked by their husbands, Uncle Edmund standing closer to the dueling ground, his father there.
They wait. Eventually, Miraz arrives with the whole Telmarine army at his back, and he hears his father mutter, "Even fewer men than when we delivered the head."
"Yes," says Uncle Edmund, "But does that mean that they've deserted, or that Miraz has an ambush planned?"
"Dear Edmund, so cheerful."
At what seems like the last possible moment, Peter looks around and says, sounding slightly concerned, "Where's Susan? And Lu?"
They all look 'round at each other, then Kitay says, "I haven't seen Aunt Susan since we came back, but Aunt Lucy --"
"I've no idea where Mother is," Cressida says, starting to look alarmed. She puts her hand to one of her sabers, glaring across the field at the Telmarines. "If they've done anything --"
"I'll go look for Mama and Aunt Lucy," Jack says, seeing Helen open her mouth, either to say the same thing or to issue a threat. "Perhaps they're just -- being held up by a faun with a broken arm."
Peter looks dubious, but he doesn't say anything; Jack goes. He walks to the opening of the How, but once he's inside, he runs, calling for his mother and Aunt Lucy. They are nowhere to be found, though he does find the Narnian children sequestered away in one of the back caves, guarded by a ferocious-looking she-minotaur who seems alarmed to see him, even after he explains that he's just looking for his mother and aunt. At last he goes into one of the odd passages of the How, where he finds Susan tightening the girth straps on a horse's saddle.
"Mama!" he exclaims, and she turns toward him, her hand falling to her bow before she recognizes him. "What are you doing? Papa's asking for you and Aunt Lucy --"
"Lu's gone running off into the forest on some wild goose chase," Susan says shortly. "She forgets how little she is now; she's going to get herself killed, if the Telmarines don't do it for her."
"Why?" Jack asks, blinking. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing Aunt Lucy would usually do.
"She thinks she's going to be able to wake the trees," Susan says, swinging herself into the saddle.
Jack catches at the reins. "Papa's asking for you," he says.
Her expression lightens softly. "Tell him I love him," she says, and digs her heels into her horse's side.
When he gets back, everyone turns to look at him.
"Well?" says Vicky.
"Aunt Lucy's gone to raise the trees, and Mama went after her." He turns his gaze to Papa. "She says she loves you."
"So," says Nerissa, "Mama's gone mad."
"She might manage it," says Uncle Edmund, slowly, looking at their father, "She does have a knowledge of Aslan."
Jack sees Helen's lips compress, sees Richard touch her on the shoulder. They buried her by the rites of Aslan and the Emperor, but she lost her faith when the first messenger came from Lasci. He lost his when he saw what had happened to his son.
And whatever happens, there is nothing any of them can do now, because it is noon, and time for the duel.
Peter the High King of Narnia is a thousand-year swordsman, forged of Narnia's need and Aslan's will. That is what the stories say, at least, and Jack remembers someone (his father? his mother? his uncle?) saying that they lied, that even though Peter is very, very good, there's no need to fix supernatural means to it. But then again -- there are the stories of the White Witch, and how Peter dueled with her for Narnia's heart and soul when only a boy --
It doesn't matter now, because whatever Peter of Narnia had been as a child (I have no memory of being a child), he is a swordsman with forty-five years (at least) experience now, the best swordsman Narnia has ever seen. Still, Jack can't keep his fists from clenching, the weight of his sword a steady reassurance at his waist, because Miraz is bigger and stronger and has a longer reach than his father.
But Peter is faster, and a better swordsman. It almost equals them out.
Jack flinches when he sees the edge of Miraz's shield hit his father's face and knock his helm off, but Peter gets first blood, a shallow cut across the outer part of Miraz's right thigh. Then Miraz uses his weight to his advantage, and Peter falls badly enough that he's still on the ground when Miraz brings his foot down on his shield. Jack is too far away to hear if Peter's arm breaks -- though he doesn't think it; it doesn't look it -- or the pop as the shoulder is dislocated, but something's clearly gone wrong. It barely stops Peter for a moment, though; he kicks Miraz's feet out from under him and gets back to his own, panting hard, and they all look up at the sound of hooves.
Victoria clutches suddenly at Jack's arm. "Mama's back," she whispers.
She rides in, horse lathered, and slides off her horse as Caspian grabs the reins. Miraz and Peter continue fighting, and Susan staggers over to sit with them.
"I-lost-Lucy" she gasps quietly, and Helen presses a flask of water into her hands, "The fight?"
"They're even," whispers Glozelle, "But Lord Miraz caught the High King's shoulder-"
They call a respite, three minutes. Edmund and Jack both run over to Peter, and yes, the shoulder is dislocated. Jack pushes it back into place, and his father flinches, but does not cry out. They tell him what they know, but soon, too soon, the break is over, and Peter and Miraz fly back into action.
Jack sits down next to Helen, and places his hand over hers. It is covered in mail, but still, it is a comfort.
And then Peter goes down. Helen swears, and Victoria swears as well, soldier's oaths that make Caspian blink at her, but Peter brings Miraz down as well, and they both stagger back to their feet, and Miraz loses his sword, and Jack breathes out, because his father is winning, and Miraz has only his shield-
Then Rhindon crashes to the ground, and the tide turns, Miraz bashing at Peter with his shield, and he is losing, he is losing, and Jack can hear Helen whispering DaddyDaddyDaddyDaddy and then they are having a grappling match with the shield, and he is down, Peter is down, and Victoria is moaning, because Miraz has his sword-
And Peter, apparently, has a vicious rock, and Miraz is staggering back, and Uncle Edmund is bellowing "This is no time for Chivalry, Peter!" and Miraz is down down down...
He says something to Peter, something no one can hear, and Peter stands back, and offers Rhindon to Caspian, who walks forward, and takes the sword, and takes a deep breath, and kills his uncle.
The Narnians start to cheer, but the Telmarines are dreadfully, dreadfully quiet. Peter takes his sword back from Caspian and raises it in the air, saying clearly, his voice meant to carry but in no way a shout, "The tyrant Miraz of Telmar is dead! Telmar, do you hold true to the word of your king? Will you surrender and swear allegiance to us and our royal house of Narnia?"
He sees Glozelle whisper something in Prunaprismia's ear, and then the queen walks forward, swallowing a little as she passes the body of her husband. Peter turns toward her, silent and waiting, with blood on his face.
She goes to her knees, and says, "In the name of Telmar, I surrender and swear oath to the House of Pevensie, by blood and by bone, by earth and by air, by fire and by water."
"Rise, sister," Peter says, voice infinitely gentle, and raises her to kiss her on both cheeks.
And then the first General comes, and bends his knee, and the others hurry forward, Susan and Edmund to flank Peter, Richard, Jack, Helen, Victoria, Caspian and Glozelle to recieve the oaths, Kitay to help Prunaprismia away. She leans into him, and he smiles down at her, and Jack sees Helen smile like a cat with buttered paws.
They're almost halfway through when the trees start moving. Prunaprismia sees it first and screams; about half the Telmarines look like they're about to panic and the other half look like they're too scared to move. Peter glances up, raises his eyebrows, and says, "Oh, I see Lucy managed it after all. I thought she might."
Then Jack sees the Lion.
Their parents fall to their knees first, then the Narnians, then the Telmarines. They are the last, and Helen is the last of them, not even dropping to both knees, just to one, head high in the face of the Lion's gaze.
He pads towards them, and stops before the row of monarchs, and Jack can see Helen's muscles tense as she does not bend her head.
"Do you know who I am, Daughter of Eve?" it enquires, like an uncle asking a child a simple question.
"You are Aslan," she says.
"Why do you not bow to me?"
"I do, Aslan."
"Not as your father does. Do you think yourself better than your father?"
"No, Aslan, I think I respect you less than he."
"You are my favoured children," he says, "All of you."
"And that," Helen says simply, "Is a lie."
Jack sees Peter flinch and Susan open her mouth to speak before Peter finds her hand and grips it with his own mailed one.
"Why would you say such a thing?" Aslan asks, looking politely puzzled.
"Because you let my son and my niece and nephew be killed, and you did nothing."
"My child -"
"And they did it in your name. Are you not the Son of the Sun? If you would not condemn them for murdering the children, then why not also for their blasphemy? And why did they say that, when they were in the dungeons, a Lion came to them, and told them to be strong, and brave, that they would be rewarded?"
"I love all my children, and protect them."
"And I am not your child. And nor, apparently, were they."
"You are wrong, for I loved them."
"And so," Jack says bitterly, "You succored their murderers, though they beheaded a lion of the Royal Guard and sewed his head to Iulius's neck."
He hears his mother breathe in, sees Lucy open her mouth to speak, remembers too late that Helen does not know this. Nor does Richard. Nor do any of the others, except for Victoria.
It's his father who speaks, his voice stark with horror.
"You let this happen to my children?"
"It was necessary," says the Lion, "Am I not your God?"
Helen struggles to her feet.
"You are no god of mine."
And the Lion roars. Jack struggles to his feet in the face of it, sees Victoria and his father doing the same, pulling his mother up, and Glozelle is following Victoria and Caspian is following them both, and Kitay is rising, and so, slowly, are the others, and Richard takes his hand, familiar and calloused, and Aunt Lucy is weeping, and the sound of the Lion's roar is getting louder and louder and oh it hurts.
He barely hears his father's shout. "You killed my children!" Peter screams. “You killed my children!"
He still has his sword in his hand. Jack hears Lucy scream, no Peter don't, but Peter doesn't hear her. He bites the leather of his shield-hand glove with his teeth and pulls it off, spitting it aside, and slides his sword blade across his palm.
The roaring stops. "What are you doing?" says the Lion. "What do you think you are doing, Peter James Pevensie of Finchley?"
Peter's voice is very soft. "I banish you," he says. "I am High King of Narnia; I banish you from these lands, by my own blood and my own oath to Narnia. I forsake you. I refuse you. I repudiate you."
Helen has her own dagger out now, and her blood is dripping to the earth, and so is Victoria's, and Saiet is behind them, and her voice is like a rushing stream as they join in.
I forsake you I refuse you I repudiate you.
He takes up the chant, as does Richard, and then their mother, and Edmund, and now Kitay is saying it, and Prunaprismia, and Caspian and Glozelle and the rest of the Telmarines, and finally, finally the native Narnians take it up, until only Aunt Lucy refrains, looking at them in horror.
"You can't do this."
Peter says nothing to her at all, but Susan says, tears running down her face, "Then you are no sister of mine," and Lucy flinches like she's been struck.
The edges of the Lion are beginning to blur; at times, Jack can almost see the trees behind him.
"I made you king!" he roars. "I saved you!"
"He made himself king," snarls Helen, and Jack can hear a noise, as if a great piece of cloth is being ripped.
"By blood and by conquest, through mud and through snow, I have walked every inch of this land," says Peter, "and known it to be mine. I am a child of Narnia!"
And the land itself rises up, and Susan - not Susan¬; may the gods all help them, that is not Jack’s mother - lifts her head, and says, "It is true. He is mine."
Jack is on his knees again so quickly he knows that he will feel it for a week, but he isn't the only one. They're all bowing now, to the only being that has succored them through trial and tribulation, through joy and sorrow, to the only being that has always been here and never turned away. Uncle Edmund is weeping.
Peter starts to bow, but Susan catches his arms and pulls him up. Her blue eyes are green and brown and endless, no pupil or iris, one moment the color of the water of the Great River, the next the trees of the Shuddering Wood, the next the rich earth of Cair Paravel. "You bow to no one," she says.
"No!" roars the Lion, "You may not do this!"
"Do not tell me what I may or may not do!" cries Narnia, and Jack can feel the power, coursing through him, boiling through his veins wrapped up in the oaths he swore and the things he did to bind himself, that long-short night in the fields with Helen and Richard, fucking and being fucked, in the river and on its banks, up against trees, and beneath their canopies, as Helen wept, and he felt her, and Richard, and the life within her, and all the lives in Narnia, beautiful, filament thin, his to protect.
He feels as though he is being squeezed in a giant vice, and gropes for Helen's hand as the pressure grows, and grows, becoming overwhelming, but he will do what he could not before he will die with her, instead of after.
And then it is over.
The Lion is gone.
Susan is unconscious, cradled in Peter's arms as he kneels on the grass, tears running down his face that he doesn't seem to notice. Aunt Lucy is crying in great gasping sobs, not seeming to notice that her nose is bleeding.
And Helen -- Helen looks triumphant.
Jack makes himself stand and go over to his parents, to check that his mother is all right. His head is pounding so badly he can barely walk and his father barely surrenders Susan for the moment Jack needs to check her breathing -- fast but steady -- her heartbeat -- fast but steady -- and her pupils -- dilated but there.
Helen stumbles over, dropping down next to them
"That was fun," she observes hoarsely.
"How could you?" wails Aunt Lucy, "How could you?"
It is Nerissa who goes to her, face solemn, and lifts her up and wipes her nose, which is good because Jack can't, can't treat a woman who heard what Aslan had done, and would still worship him.
"What just happened?" asks Prunaprismia urgently, and he realizes fuzzily that her breasts are leaking through her dress, and she should probably feed Flavian.
"We banished a god," Helen says sunnily, and their mother stirs in their father's arms, opens one eye, and says, "Ouch."
"How do you feel?" Jack asks, and she considers it, and then says, "Hungry. What's for lunch?"
end
In the end, they send King Edmund and Prince Kitay. Princess Saiet volunteers, but is rejected because, as Victoria says, "You just want to say something shocking and watch them choke. I know you."
"You can do that at the wedding," suggests King Jack, and Victoria kicks him.
They return with identical and fiendish smirks on their faces.
"Did you ever notice," Prince Kitay says thoughtfully to Caspian, "that when your uncle is angry, he looks just like a frog?"
"No," says Caspian, "I can't say I ever did."
Glozelle has.
"I think he might actually have had a heart attack," King Edmund says, "Just a little one. Then he said he'd think about it. Queen Prunaprismia insists she's coming, though."
The messenger arrives two hours later, accepting the invitation on behalf of Queen Prunaprismia, Lord Sopespian, and sundry members of their respective retinues. Victoria says "Oh, good," and hurries off to have her dress fitted. There has been much argument about whether she can wear her coronation robes, which ended in the decision that she could, but she'd better wear something else underneath.
The hours leading up to the wedding seem to comprise mainly of various Pevensies (including, somewhat surprisingly, Prince Neris) decorating and the rest of the family sharpening weapons and carefully stationing members of the army at alternately conspicuous and inconspicuous intervals.
"Weddings," Queen Susan explains to Glozelle, probably the first five words she's offered him at any one time, "are a fantastic time for an attack. It's everyone important all in the same place, theoretically distracted by the bride and groom -- or grooms, at this occasion. Assassins always think that no one will expect an attack."
"Ah," Glozelle says, because for all that Queen Susan looks even younger than Victoria, there's something about her -- about all the elder Pevensies, really -- that's just disconcerting. "You know from experience --"
"Unfortunately," she says, and smiles. "Ask Ed and Lu about the mess surrounding what happened when Peter and I got married sometime, if you'd like. And Helen and Jack and Richard's wedding went off marvelously, for all that they don't know what happened behind the scenes. I'd rather it stayed that way, as well. Anything that happens here will just be keeping with family tradition."
It is at that point that King Jack, King Richard, Prince Kitay and Prince Neris all descend upon him.
"We've managed to scrounge up some clothes," Prince Neris explains, as they drag him off to someone else's bedroom, "But we're not quite sure of the fit. Here!" He thrusts some garments into Glozelle's hand, and pushes him behind - where on earth did they get a screen?
"Father and Uncle Peter are doing Caspian," explains Prince Kitay, as Glozelle strips off his own clothes, and puts on the new ones. They are clearly high quality, silks and velvets, and fit surprisingly well. He steps out from behind the screen, and Prince Neris descends upon him with a pair of small scissors and some pins, as the others all make suggestions.
By the time he's finished, the fit is even better.
"Never let it be said," Neris says with satisfaction, "that I do not marry my relatives off in good style."
"That would be far more convincing," says Kitay, "if your contribution to Cottia's wedding hadn't been to stand on a table singing all twenty verses of the hedgehog song."
"The hedgehog song?" asks Glozelle, who can't decide if he wants to know or not. Neris looks as if he is about to demonstrate, but before he can begin, Richard wraps his hand around his mouth and says "Don't you dare."
"Uh e ahs'd!" Neris protests.
"I don't care," says Richard, "I was the one who got to explain to Susanna that that was not how sex worked. Never again."
Neris looks as if he would like to argue the point, but that is when the door swings open, everyone reaches for their weapons, and a faun squeaks, "Majesties, highnesses, the Telmarines are here!"
"They're early," groans Jack, "Shall I go-"
"No," the other three chorus.
"I'll go," says Prince Kitay, and runs out of the door.
*
Victoria has been here before, but never on the receiving end; it's one thing entirely to be one of the people flitting around the bride with strands of gold and pearls and silk scarves and quite another thing entirely to be the one being flitted around.
"You can't expect me to wear that under my gown!" she squeaks at one point. "It's -- I'm not actually sure there's any fabric there!"
"That's because the grooms are supposed to rip it off you," Saiet says, with a gleam in her eye that may be more wicked than excited. "I still say that the consummation should be public. You know, in case the Telmarines are convinced it's all a trick."
"No, thank you," Victoria says firmly.
"It's very traditional," Helen says. "Jack and Richard and I had to -- in an open field, at that, because Narnia insisted --"
"Peter and I did," Susan says. "Though that had somewhat less to do with the fact it was a festival night --"
They all shudder collectively, some of them with anticipation and some of them with just plain understanding. Festivals can be very -- heady. And some of the shuddering just has to do with the fact that Victoria and Helen's mother is talking about her wedding night.
"-- and somewhat more to do with the fact that half the continent was convinced that we were just putting on a show."
"Oh," Victoria says uncertainly. "Perhaps you -- have a point --"
"I'll tell Caspian!" Saiet announces, throwing an armful of brightly colored silk up into the air.
"We haven't actually come to a decision!" Victoria shrieks, shedding cousins in all directions as she picks up her skirts and sprints after her.
Unfortunately, she doesn't catch her in time, as Saiet runs through the door and shuts it, calling, "You can't let the groom see you before the ceremony!"
Victoria thumps the door so hard that her hand smarts, then stands there, glaring at it. Saiet does have a point, but it wasn't the first time for her parents, or for Jack, Richard and Helen, and yes, she has some modesty. She doesn't want to put on a show.
Inside, Caspian squawks, and then her father opens the door and hauls Saiet into the corridor.
"Have you agreed to this, Victoria?"
"No."
"Then you don't have to do it. Saiet, not a word. We'll display the bedsheets, and that ought to be enough."
"But -"
"Victoria doesn't want to do it, and nor does Caspian, and they don't have to do anything they don't want to, understand?"
"Yes," Saiet says sulkily.
"Good, now, go and help Victoria finished getting dressed. Vicky, love, you look beautiful."
He kisses her on the cheek, then goes back inside, and they walk back to Victoria's room, Saiet looking mutinous.
"Uncle said no," she announces.
"Good," says Helen, looking at Victoria's flushed cheeks, "Lord Sopespian strikes me as the kind who stares."
"You haven't met him!"
"He made an impression on Dickie. Now -" this to Victoria, “- hold still for your crown."
She lifts it from its wrappings, a filigree-work diadem and tiara, studded with pearls and diamonds, and places it carefully on Victoria's head, fitting around the pattern of plaits. Susan pins it in, hands careful and familiar, and Victoria suddenly wants to cry.
The rest of them get dressed in record time; there are lots of helping hands and they've all done this before. Susan and Helen are resplendent in royal regalia; Victoria has never seen her mother so young, glowing with pleasure. This must be what Susan looked like on the day she was crowned; she can't help but wonder if her father and her aunt and uncle look the same.
Then they all get down to the serious business of arming themselves. She can't even say this is any kind of excessive; they've done this as long as Victoria can remember, because it's needful. The Telmarines -- may or may not notice.
"Come here, Vicky," Susan says, and slides a pair of jewel-hilted stilettos into her hair, then throwing knives on the insides of her wrists, a long dagger strapped to her thigh, the long golden belt a chain she can use to strangle someone. There's more, she's sure; Helen's wearing her sword for the world to see, though Susan isn't wearing her quiver. It's somewhat harder to pass that off as an accessory.
Uncle Edmund opens the door and puts his head in. "Ready?" he asks.
Susan's smile is warm and delighted. "I think so," she says.
They bustle her to an antechamber off the main hall, then everyone but Helen and her mother leave to take their places.
"You look beautiful," says her mother, and kisses her, "I never thought I'd see this, and I'm, I'm so glad." She can't continue, just kisses Victoria again, and leaves.
"I - I always thought that if we did this, I'd be explaining the wedding night," says Helen, "But you've obviously worked that bit out for yourself."
"I knew already."
"Yes, but I still needed to give you an embarrassing talk. It’s tradition. Mama did it to me. But I decided that, as she's had it with you so recently, I can't."
"Thank you."
"I love you," says Helen, kisses her, and leaves.
Her father enters, tall and glorious in his own formal clothes, silks and satins and his crown gleaming in his hair, Rhindon hanging at his side, shimmering like the water of Glasswater Bay.
"Ready?" he asks.
"Ready," she confirms, and he takes her arm, making an almost imperceptible gesture. There is a moment, and then the trumpets start, piping their fanfares, the notes curling around each other. Her father places a reassuring hand on her own, and leads her out.
There are so many people, is her first thought, native Narnians on the right, Telmarines on the left, (Lord Sopespian looking angry, Prunaprismia looking misty), and her family spread between them, along the aisle. Her mother and Helen are at the very front, flanked by Richard and Jack respectively. And beyond them stand Caspian and Glozelle. Her heart lifts, and oh, once upon a time she thought that novelists who wrote things like that were exaggerating, but they're not, it’s true.
They reach the end of the aisle, and stop.
She has no memory of the ceremony. If pressed, she might later be able to come up with a few flashes, but they are only images, not true memories. She remembers the careful pressure of Caspian's lips on hers, Glozelle's deeper kiss, then the moment where they looked unsure whether or not they were supposed to kiss each other as well. She doesn't remember if they had or not.
She remembers the sound of her father's voice, but not the words.
She remembers Helen's hug afterwards, and Jack's and Richard's, and the sound of Tahmoh and Cressida's wild hawk-screeches of excitement.
The feast afterwards is somewhat clearer. This is not Cair Paravel, will never be Cair Paravel, and here at the How they can do nothing to rival the feasts that had been held for every wedding in Victoria's memory, but they try and they pull off what they do rather marvelously.
All three of them drink from the same goblet, as is both Narnian and Telmarine tradition. Lord Sopespian looks as if his food is giving him indigestion, even more so after Saiet starts flirting with him, and affording him looks down her bosom. Prunaprismia congratulates them, apparently sincerely, and ends up talking baby-care with Helen, Susan and Nerissa.
Her memories begin properly, so clear and distinct that thirty years later she can look back, and cherish the memory, when her father declares that it is time for the bedding, and her stomach drops. She is carried, by her cousins, and thank heavens that Lord Sopespian is on the edges, because he'd probably grope her, to the bedchamber. Glozelle and Caspian are carried by the women, and she can hear Saiet making rude jokes, and Tahmoh and Cressida hooting with laughter, and she is suddenly so scared, so very scared, in a way she wasn't when she took Glozelle to bed, because at least it wasn't so very public, so nerve-wracking, and she was buoyed up on wine and lack of sleep besides, more confident than she might have been.
They are all three deposited on the bed, (and someone has changed the sheets, these are silk, brought from Cair Paravel at Kitay's suggestion, she has no idea why) and then her parents take charge of kicking everyone out. She stares at the bedclothes, at the weave of the silk, until the door slams shut behind them, and then lifts her eyes to look at Caspian and Glozelle.
*
The moment the door closes behind his sister and her new husbands, Sopespian snarls, "So, King Peter, what is this supposed to prove? Anything besides the fact that you would whore out --"
Susan doesn't even try to stop Peter from punching him in the face.
He staggers to his feet, nose bloodied, and Helen snarls, "You, sirrah, will answer for that on the field of honor! If you have any, which I doubt, because you would appear to have crawled out from under a rock."
"I would not demean myself so far as to fight with a woman," Sopespian says through his broken nose, and Helen says, "Yes, you will you coward," and slaps him on both cheeks, then draws Nightsbane, "or shall I horsewhip you? Your choice?"
"Majesty!" Sopespian says to Prunaprismia, "Surely you will not-"
"Your language was intemperate, and utterly disgraceful. You will answer for it, here and now."
"Well," Jack says, "not here, as we wouldn't want to distract them. In front of the How?"
Minutes later, they are in front of the How, Sopespian alone with sword in hand, Helen surrounded by cousins as lights are rigged. Prunaprismia takes a seat next to Queen Susan, who is holding Flavian, brought down by one of the dryads who felt that he ought to be there.
It would be all too easy for the fight to be to the death -- and Helen is tempted to let her sword slip, but that might call into doubt her swordsmanship and Narnia's honor -- but instead it is only too first blood (which, technically, her father may have earned, but that was outside the constraints of the duel) and Helen contents herself with a slash across his sword-arm that will pain him and slow him in a battle. Sopespian's blade doesn't even touch her.
Afterwards, he stands quite still, shivering with rage, his gaze occasionally flickering to the spot where Peter is watching with cool bemusement, his thumb on the quillions of his sword. Not resting there, not drawn, but a quiet promise.
"You will make a full apology to my father and to my family," Helen says, lifting Nightsbane to point at him. "Right here, and right now."
"Lord Miraz will hear of this insult!" Sopespian bursts out.
"Yes," Queen Prunaprismia declares, "he will, I assure you, my lord."
"Well?" Helen asks. "Or should I blood you again? Or shall I get the horsewhip?"
Sopespian bows his head, slowly, and grits out, "I apologize, my lady. I misspoke."
"You did more than that," Helen says, resheathing Nightsbane, "But I'll take that for now. I wouldn't want to send you into an apoplexy."
And then she turns her back, and even as she realizes what she's done she is thinking Stupid and turning back, and that is what saves her life, because Sopespian's blade, instead of going through her heart, rips messily through her shoulder, and she doesn't think she screams but she can't honestly tell because the pain, fuck, the pain, and she can hear someone who must be Prunaprismia screaming, and her mother has handed her the baby and is running forward to Helen, and her father flops to his knees beside her and she is on the ground why is she on the ground? and someone is shouting, and the candles are wavering, turning into Halos, and she sees Iulius, standing before one of them, looking at her with horror in his eyes, and she wants to talk to him, wants to say I'm sorry but the blackness envelops her before she can.
*
When she wakes, it's to Victoria curled against her side, warm and comforting.
"Vicky --" Helen croaks, reaching for her, and Victoria jerks upright.
"Helen!" she exclaims, and falls on her neck, face buried in Helen's shoulder.
"Oof," Helen says breathlessly, raising her arms to hug her sister. "What happened?" Because her shoulder doesn't hurt at all, not even a dull ache, and shouldn't Victoria be elsewhere?
"Papa took Sopespian's head off," Jack says from the doorway, coming over to her with Richard just behind him and putting his arms around Helen, bringing Victoria into the fourway hug too. "And then went personally to deliver it. He and Mama aren't back yet. Queen Prunaprismia's here, under a heavy guard, along with the rest of the Telmarine delegation except for three lords who got to go back and deliver the news."
"Aunt Lucy got to you with her cordial," Richard adds, his breath warm in her hair. "Thank the Seven."
"Vicky," she says later, once Vicky has let go, and is simply lying next to her instead of holding on like an octopus, "I spoilt your wedding night, I'm so sorry."
"'S fine," Vicky says, "You just delayed it a bit, we can get ourselves sorted out later."
"And any more than that," says Richard, "is more than I want to know."
*
Dawn is coming as they march to the Telmarine camp, Peter, Susan, Neris, Kitay and three terrified Telmarine lords, with Sopespian's head in a bag. It is chilly, but though Susan is still in her evening dress, now stained with Helen's blood, and wears no cloak, her fury keeps her warm. Sopespian hurt her daughter, stabbed her in the back, and had she got there first she would have ripped his throat out with her bare hands, but she was trying to hold Helen's shoulder together, screaming for Lucy, when Peter took his head off with a single blow. Helen is asleep now, frighteningly pale, with Victoria curled around her. They called Victoria as soon as Helen was in her bed, and she came running, wearing nothing but Caspian's tunic, which hung down over her thighs, but no further, and even Saiet did not make a joke. Glozelle and Caspian sat with her, watching them both sleep, until Susan was sure that Helen was not going to stop breathing, and it was time to leave, and then they went to talk to the Telmarine lords.
Miraz meets them at the entrance to the camp, frowning as he sees them.
"So," he says. "Is this your Narnian hospitality, to keep my wife and bring back but three of my men?"
"Four," says Peter, and tosses the bag to the ground. Sopespian's head rolls out, landing, eyes upward, in the mud between Miraz's feet.
Miraz doesn't even have a chance to say anything before Peter has a hand around his throat, bearing him back against a tent post as his men start to move and Susan draws her bow, the kiss-ring on the arrow touching the edge of her mouth. Try me, she wants to scream. Give me an excuse, just give me an reason.
Peter doesn't even have his sword in his hand. "Is this your honor," he says, very softly, "is this your Telmarine honor, that you would send a man to my daughter's wedding who would stab a sovereign of Narnia in the back?"
Miraz's gaze flickers down to Sopespian's head. "You demean me with your accusations --"
"No," Peter says, "No, I don't think I do at all. After all, you sent assassins to your own nephew's bedchamber; why should you stint at sending them to his wedding?
"Do I look like a man who would endanger his wife so?" Miraz gasps.
"I don't know. But you look like a man who will try to kill his nephew." He raises his voice. "Hear this! This man attacked my daughter, and it is only by the grace of my sister Queen Lucy and the gift of Father Christmas that she lived! This man first insulted my younger daughter, and then my elder, and then, when she had beaten him in a fair fight, stabbed her in the back! I call upon these Lords to testify that it is so."
"It is so," says one of them, short, with a goatee, voice loud and clear. His companions are less enthusiastic, but in the end they too acquiesce. Peter lets Miraz go, brushing his hands contemptuously.
"I will meet you on the field of honor soon, Lord Miraz, and I hope that you will be more honorable then. As for your wife, what she does is her choice."
He lets go of Miraz with a jerk, the marks of his fingers standing out red on his throat, and says softly, "You I look forward to killing," before he turns away.
Susan watches Miraz deliberately struggle with the urge not to follow Sopespian's example and stab him in the back, but Sopespian's head is still lying on the ground, staring sightlessly at him, and all his men are watching.
They leave in silence, and none of the Telmarines raise a hand against them.
Once they're in the trees, out of sight of the camp, Peter takes Susan's face in his hands and kisses her, hard, before he says, "Susan, our daughters --"
"I know," she says, cupping his face in one hand. "I know."
And when they get back to the How, Helen is awake and Victoria is with her.
*
Once their parents are back, Victoria leaves Helen, who is looking sleepy again, and goes back to her room, where Glozelle and Caspian are waiting. She doesn't say a thing, just climbs onto the bed, and Glozelle holds her, and Caspian does too more tentatively, and she takes a deep shuddering breath, and reminds herself that Helen is alive, but it is still so raw, the feeling of loss, and she lived more than twenty years after Helen died and never stopped looking for her sister, and she is so used to this, and she hates it, so used to sitting by Helen's bedside as she wakes from battle wounds, or that long horrible night when Iulius was born and they waited to see if she was going to wake up at all, paler than her pillows as a wet-nurse fed the baby, and Victoria prayed to every god she'd ever heard of, Let her live. I'll do anything if you just let her live.
She doesn't realize she is weeping until Caspian wipes the tears from her cheeks, fingers gentle against her skin.
*
Jack has memories of doing this as a child, he and Richard careful with Peter's armor, as though they've never touched anything more delicate or more precious, even though their father's armor has been with him through numerous battles, even though it's protected him against dragonfire and Calormene swords and Archenlander arrows and wolves' teeth and kraken's suckers. (Or hat it really? He can't remember the truth, just the stories.) It doesn't stop him being careful with it, the chain links as fine and smooth as silk beneath his hands, the velvet of his tabard a little rougher.
Did you do this when you were a boy for your father, Papa? Richard asked once, and Jack remembers the look on his father's face.
I have no memory of being a child, Peter had said.
Richard is with Helen, so Jack is as careful with his father's armor as he ever was as a boy, making sure it's immaculate, that there are no weak spots in the mail, that the leather is strong, that the plate is undented. When he was a child, this had been the most important thing in the world to him.
"Jack." His father's voice is rough, tired, and he turns around.
"Papa," he says.
Peter is still in his finery from the previous night, wrinkled and blood-stained. He hasn't even taken his crown off. "Come here," he says, and Jack goes to hug him like he's six-years-old again and his father is fresh from the battlefield, the most important person in the world.
"Are you ready?" he asks.
"Yes."
He takes his bag. Aunt Lucy will have her cordial, but still, the presence of the bag comforts him. They walk down in silence- his father always preferred it that way, to have a chance to think, and are met by Richard and Helen, (who is in full mail, and Jack opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it), then Glozelle, Vicky, and Caspian, (all of whom are armed). Whatever happens, none of them are expecting the Telmarines to act honourably, and give up if Peter loses.
It is only them at the foot of the How, watching the duel, the others are to watch from above, ready with weapons in case something happens. Saiet has been sitting with her feet in the cavern stream all night, and when he last saw her, told him that, when the signal was given, she could raise the water.
They have a chance. Whatever happens, they have a chance, maybe even an even one.
They take position, Helen and Victoria sitting, each flanked by their husbands, Uncle Edmund standing closer to the dueling ground, his father there.
They wait. Eventually, Miraz arrives with the whole Telmarine army at his back, and he hears his father mutter, "Even fewer men than when we delivered the head."
"Yes," says Uncle Edmund, "But does that mean that they've deserted, or that Miraz has an ambush planned?"
"Dear Edmund, so cheerful."
At what seems like the last possible moment, Peter looks around and says, sounding slightly concerned, "Where's Susan? And Lu?"
They all look 'round at each other, then Kitay says, "I haven't seen Aunt Susan since we came back, but Aunt Lucy --"
"I've no idea where Mother is," Cressida says, starting to look alarmed. She puts her hand to one of her sabers, glaring across the field at the Telmarines. "If they've done anything --"
"I'll go look for Mama and Aunt Lucy," Jack says, seeing Helen open her mouth, either to say the same thing or to issue a threat. "Perhaps they're just -- being held up by a faun with a broken arm."
Peter looks dubious, but he doesn't say anything; Jack goes. He walks to the opening of the How, but once he's inside, he runs, calling for his mother and Aunt Lucy. They are nowhere to be found, though he does find the Narnian children sequestered away in one of the back caves, guarded by a ferocious-looking she-minotaur who seems alarmed to see him, even after he explains that he's just looking for his mother and aunt. At last he goes into one of the odd passages of the How, where he finds Susan tightening the girth straps on a horse's saddle.
"Mama!" he exclaims, and she turns toward him, her hand falling to her bow before she recognizes him. "What are you doing? Papa's asking for you and Aunt Lucy --"
"Lu's gone running off into the forest on some wild goose chase," Susan says shortly. "She forgets how little she is now; she's going to get herself killed, if the Telmarines don't do it for her."
"Why?" Jack asks, blinking. It doesn't seem like the sort of thing Aunt Lucy would usually do.
"She thinks she's going to be able to wake the trees," Susan says, swinging herself into the saddle.
Jack catches at the reins. "Papa's asking for you," he says.
Her expression lightens softly. "Tell him I love him," she says, and digs her heels into her horse's side.
When he gets back, everyone turns to look at him.
"Well?" says Vicky.
"Aunt Lucy's gone to raise the trees, and Mama went after her." He turns his gaze to Papa. "She says she loves you."
"So," says Nerissa, "Mama's gone mad."
"She might manage it," says Uncle Edmund, slowly, looking at their father, "She does have a knowledge of Aslan."
Jack sees Helen's lips compress, sees Richard touch her on the shoulder. They buried her by the rites of Aslan and the Emperor, but she lost her faith when the first messenger came from Lasci. He lost his when he saw what had happened to his son.
And whatever happens, there is nothing any of them can do now, because it is noon, and time for the duel.
Peter the High King of Narnia is a thousand-year swordsman, forged of Narnia's need and Aslan's will. That is what the stories say, at least, and Jack remembers someone (his father? his mother? his uncle?) saying that they lied, that even though Peter is very, very good, there's no need to fix supernatural means to it. But then again -- there are the stories of the White Witch, and how Peter dueled with her for Narnia's heart and soul when only a boy --
It doesn't matter now, because whatever Peter of Narnia had been as a child (I have no memory of being a child), he is a swordsman with forty-five years (at least) experience now, the best swordsman Narnia has ever seen. Still, Jack can't keep his fists from clenching, the weight of his sword a steady reassurance at his waist, because Miraz is bigger and stronger and has a longer reach than his father.
But Peter is faster, and a better swordsman. It almost equals them out.
Jack flinches when he sees the edge of Miraz's shield hit his father's face and knock his helm off, but Peter gets first blood, a shallow cut across the outer part of Miraz's right thigh. Then Miraz uses his weight to his advantage, and Peter falls badly enough that he's still on the ground when Miraz brings his foot down on his shield. Jack is too far away to hear if Peter's arm breaks -- though he doesn't think it; it doesn't look it -- or the pop as the shoulder is dislocated, but something's clearly gone wrong. It barely stops Peter for a moment, though; he kicks Miraz's feet out from under him and gets back to his own, panting hard, and they all look up at the sound of hooves.
Victoria clutches suddenly at Jack's arm. "Mama's back," she whispers.
She rides in, horse lathered, and slides off her horse as Caspian grabs the reins. Miraz and Peter continue fighting, and Susan staggers over to sit with them.
"I-lost-Lucy" she gasps quietly, and Helen presses a flask of water into her hands, "The fight?"
"They're even," whispers Glozelle, "But Lord Miraz caught the High King's shoulder-"
They call a respite, three minutes. Edmund and Jack both run over to Peter, and yes, the shoulder is dislocated. Jack pushes it back into place, and his father flinches, but does not cry out. They tell him what they know, but soon, too soon, the break is over, and Peter and Miraz fly back into action.
Jack sits down next to Helen, and places his hand over hers. It is covered in mail, but still, it is a comfort.
And then Peter goes down. Helen swears, and Victoria swears as well, soldier's oaths that make Caspian blink at her, but Peter brings Miraz down as well, and they both stagger back to their feet, and Miraz loses his sword, and Jack breathes out, because his father is winning, and Miraz has only his shield-
Then Rhindon crashes to the ground, and the tide turns, Miraz bashing at Peter with his shield, and he is losing, he is losing, and Jack can hear Helen whispering DaddyDaddyDaddyDaddy and then they are having a grappling match with the shield, and he is down, Peter is down, and Victoria is moaning, because Miraz has his sword-
And Peter, apparently, has a vicious rock, and Miraz is staggering back, and Uncle Edmund is bellowing "This is no time for Chivalry, Peter!" and Miraz is down down down...
He says something to Peter, something no one can hear, and Peter stands back, and offers Rhindon to Caspian, who walks forward, and takes the sword, and takes a deep breath, and kills his uncle.
The Narnians start to cheer, but the Telmarines are dreadfully, dreadfully quiet. Peter takes his sword back from Caspian and raises it in the air, saying clearly, his voice meant to carry but in no way a shout, "The tyrant Miraz of Telmar is dead! Telmar, do you hold true to the word of your king? Will you surrender and swear allegiance to us and our royal house of Narnia?"
He sees Glozelle whisper something in Prunaprismia's ear, and then the queen walks forward, swallowing a little as she passes the body of her husband. Peter turns toward her, silent and waiting, with blood on his face.
She goes to her knees, and says, "In the name of Telmar, I surrender and swear oath to the House of Pevensie, by blood and by bone, by earth and by air, by fire and by water."
"Rise, sister," Peter says, voice infinitely gentle, and raises her to kiss her on both cheeks.
And then the first General comes, and bends his knee, and the others hurry forward, Susan and Edmund to flank Peter, Richard, Jack, Helen, Victoria, Caspian and Glozelle to recieve the oaths, Kitay to help Prunaprismia away. She leans into him, and he smiles down at her, and Jack sees Helen smile like a cat with buttered paws.
They're almost halfway through when the trees start moving. Prunaprismia sees it first and screams; about half the Telmarines look like they're about to panic and the other half look like they're too scared to move. Peter glances up, raises his eyebrows, and says, "Oh, I see Lucy managed it after all. I thought she might."
Then Jack sees the Lion.
Their parents fall to their knees first, then the Narnians, then the Telmarines. They are the last, and Helen is the last of them, not even dropping to both knees, just to one, head high in the face of the Lion's gaze.
He pads towards them, and stops before the row of monarchs, and Jack can see Helen's muscles tense as she does not bend her head.
"Do you know who I am, Daughter of Eve?" it enquires, like an uncle asking a child a simple question.
"You are Aslan," she says.
"Why do you not bow to me?"
"I do, Aslan."
"Not as your father does. Do you think yourself better than your father?"
"No, Aslan, I think I respect you less than he."
"You are my favoured children," he says, "All of you."
"And that," Helen says simply, "Is a lie."
Jack sees Peter flinch and Susan open her mouth to speak before Peter finds her hand and grips it with his own mailed one.
"Why would you say such a thing?" Aslan asks, looking politely puzzled.
"Because you let my son and my niece and nephew be killed, and you did nothing."
"My child -"
"And they did it in your name. Are you not the Son of the Sun? If you would not condemn them for murdering the children, then why not also for their blasphemy? And why did they say that, when they were in the dungeons, a Lion came to them, and told them to be strong, and brave, that they would be rewarded?"
"I love all my children, and protect them."
"And I am not your child. And nor, apparently, were they."
"You are wrong, for I loved them."
"And so," Jack says bitterly, "You succored their murderers, though they beheaded a lion of the Royal Guard and sewed his head to Iulius's neck."
He hears his mother breathe in, sees Lucy open her mouth to speak, remembers too late that Helen does not know this. Nor does Richard. Nor do any of the others, except for Victoria.
It's his father who speaks, his voice stark with horror.
"You let this happen to my children?"
"It was necessary," says the Lion, "Am I not your God?"
Helen struggles to her feet.
"You are no god of mine."
And the Lion roars. Jack struggles to his feet in the face of it, sees Victoria and his father doing the same, pulling his mother up, and Glozelle is following Victoria and Caspian is following them both, and Kitay is rising, and so, slowly, are the others, and Richard takes his hand, familiar and calloused, and Aunt Lucy is weeping, and the sound of the Lion's roar is getting louder and louder and oh it hurts.
He barely hears his father's shout. "You killed my children!" Peter screams. “You killed my children!"
He still has his sword in his hand. Jack hears Lucy scream, no Peter don't, but Peter doesn't hear her. He bites the leather of his shield-hand glove with his teeth and pulls it off, spitting it aside, and slides his sword blade across his palm.
The roaring stops. "What are you doing?" says the Lion. "What do you think you are doing, Peter James Pevensie of Finchley?"
Peter's voice is very soft. "I banish you," he says. "I am High King of Narnia; I banish you from these lands, by my own blood and my own oath to Narnia. I forsake you. I refuse you. I repudiate you."
Helen has her own dagger out now, and her blood is dripping to the earth, and so is Victoria's, and Saiet is behind them, and her voice is like a rushing stream as they join in.
I forsake you I refuse you I repudiate you.
He takes up the chant, as does Richard, and then their mother, and Edmund, and now Kitay is saying it, and Prunaprismia, and Caspian and Glozelle and the rest of the Telmarines, and finally, finally the native Narnians take it up, until only Aunt Lucy refrains, looking at them in horror.
"You can't do this."
Peter says nothing to her at all, but Susan says, tears running down her face, "Then you are no sister of mine," and Lucy flinches like she's been struck.
The edges of the Lion are beginning to blur; at times, Jack can almost see the trees behind him.
"I made you king!" he roars. "I saved you!"
"He made himself king," snarls Helen, and Jack can hear a noise, as if a great piece of cloth is being ripped.
"By blood and by conquest, through mud and through snow, I have walked every inch of this land," says Peter, "and known it to be mine. I am a child of Narnia!"
And the land itself rises up, and Susan - not Susan¬; may the gods all help them, that is not Jack’s mother - lifts her head, and says, "It is true. He is mine."
Jack is on his knees again so quickly he knows that he will feel it for a week, but he isn't the only one. They're all bowing now, to the only being that has succored them through trial and tribulation, through joy and sorrow, to the only being that has always been here and never turned away. Uncle Edmund is weeping.
Peter starts to bow, but Susan catches his arms and pulls him up. Her blue eyes are green and brown and endless, no pupil or iris, one moment the color of the water of the Great River, the next the trees of the Shuddering Wood, the next the rich earth of Cair Paravel. "You bow to no one," she says.
"No!" roars the Lion, "You may not do this!"
"Do not tell me what I may or may not do!" cries Narnia, and Jack can feel the power, coursing through him, boiling through his veins wrapped up in the oaths he swore and the things he did to bind himself, that long-short night in the fields with Helen and Richard, fucking and being fucked, in the river and on its banks, up against trees, and beneath their canopies, as Helen wept, and he felt her, and Richard, and the life within her, and all the lives in Narnia, beautiful, filament thin, his to protect.
He feels as though he is being squeezed in a giant vice, and gropes for Helen's hand as the pressure grows, and grows, becoming overwhelming, but he will do what he could not before he will die with her, instead of after.
And then it is over.
The Lion is gone.
Susan is unconscious, cradled in Peter's arms as he kneels on the grass, tears running down his face that he doesn't seem to notice. Aunt Lucy is crying in great gasping sobs, not seeming to notice that her nose is bleeding.
And Helen -- Helen looks triumphant.
Jack makes himself stand and go over to his parents, to check that his mother is all right. His head is pounding so badly he can barely walk and his father barely surrenders Susan for the moment Jack needs to check her breathing -- fast but steady -- her heartbeat -- fast but steady -- and her pupils -- dilated but there.
Helen stumbles over, dropping down next to them
"That was fun," she observes hoarsely.
"How could you?" wails Aunt Lucy, "How could you?"
It is Nerissa who goes to her, face solemn, and lifts her up and wipes her nose, which is good because Jack can't, can't treat a woman who heard what Aslan had done, and would still worship him.
"What just happened?" asks Prunaprismia urgently, and he realizes fuzzily that her breasts are leaking through her dress, and she should probably feed Flavian.
"We banished a god," Helen says sunnily, and their mother stirs in their father's arms, opens one eye, and says, "Ouch."
"How do you feel?" Jack asks, and she considers it, and then says, "Hungry. What's for lunch?"
end