Amphitrite - for metonomia
Title: Amphitrite
Author: gothic_hamlet
Recipient: metonomia
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Post-LWW, Lucy-centric
Summary: The world is much larger than any of them had expected.
Lucy awakens to the crash of the sea at her window - to the pinpoints of white and the impossible rolling vastness of blue a hundred feet below the stones of Cair Paravel. Curled around the warmth beneath her blankets, she waits and listens to the sound of the waves, eyes still heavy and fogged with sleep. Their hum and aww drowns out the staccato chorus of dumb birds that flock about the tower, the sound overpowering even the deeper and and more practiced songs of talking robins and magpies who still cry out in celebration for their new kings and queens.
Eventually she grows restless and pulls herself upright - stretching her hands above her head before toeing the warm stone floor with one foot. Mornings are the least enjoyable of the day, Paravel left half-empty until lunchtime as her siblings scrabble to steady an entire country finally awakened from imprisonment. Peter, she knows, has advisers to meet with, Edmund already holed up in court and Susan at work hearing out requests for aid. Her own job is to make herself available to any well-wishers who still travel to the castle, and yet Lucy knows that there is much more that she might do if only given the chance.
Turning to the open window, she takes a deep breath of the salt-scented air before tossing on a robe and preparing for the day.
--------------------
The world is much larger than any of them had expected.
Scarcely one month has passed when the first missives begin to arrive - gifts and congratulations and requests for trade from countries father away than any of them had thought existed. Edmund finds a map buried deep within the north tower, pulling it out into the sunlight before dragging his finger across its strange, secretive names. Telmar. Archenland. Uncharted Wild Lands to the north and beneath an impossible expanse of desert. To the east lay the Great Eastern Ocean, and Lucy's eyes widen in unbridled delight as she follows the bold blue strokes until they fall right over the edge of the map's gold-leaf frame.
"We'll need to visit," Peter muses, brows heavy in thought as he studies their neighbors.
Lucy tears herself away from the sea and its peppering of tiny islands to give him an enthusiastic smile, outshining Edmund's look of skepticism and Susan's one of concern. "Really? Which ones?"
"All of them."
--------------------
The world is terribly large, and Narnia has not one ship about her.
Before the long winter, the country boasted a powerful navy; dozens of merchant vessels had dotted the winding coast, keeping a healthy stream of Narnian trade flowing back to her lands. At least according to Mr. Tumnus, who has consulted what ancient records he could find. A hundred years of snow and frozen oceans have given little cause for shipbuilding - even less for trade with a country barred from all outsiders, her borders protected by thick walls of ice and magic.
But spring is here and Peter immediately commissions the first ship to be built. Or salvaged, at least, the hulls of some five or six galleys pulled from their icy tombs at Glasswater. Lucy picks out the smallest of the lot - tiny and light but the least damaged, and the gathered beasts immediately set to work restoring her under the careful, eager watch of the youngest queen.
--------------------
"Peter, please," Lucy begs again. The waves about them sound in chorus, carrying her voice up to where Peter is turned at the prow of the ship, half-listening as he counts off barrels of fresh water for the voyage. Her hair is twisted and pulled into the most grown-up style she could muster, braided back by a willowy dryad with fingers like twisted branches. It's not enough, and Lucy takes a long, careful breath, steeling her voice into something low and steady. "Peter. Please."
He glances up this time, but not without a a sharp frown - as though he were the one being denied some poor request. "No, Lu. It's too much to do on your own."
It's not the first time she's heard these words. Not the first time since The Lion's Song had been declared seaworthy, spurring a flurry of preparations for her maiden voyage. Not the first time since they had been children in that other place ages ago, and with a little shake Lucy reminds herself that here she is royalty, and jerks her chin into the air.
"But why?" she quips, arms folded crossly as she purses her lips and glares up at him. "Glasswater isn't so far away at all, and it's only a little trip."
"It's too much for you," Peter repeats before fixing her with a weary look, and Lucy recognizes it from the days before Beruna, when their army had been preparing to march against the witch. There had been too much to do then as well, although those times had not involved trade disputes and trials and a thousand requests for parley.
"Edmund's stuck in Archenland and I know you're meeting with Telmar's ambassador this week. And Susan hates boats, so don't even pretend that she wants to go."
"Susan can handle it."
"Susan's not the only queen!" Lucy blurts suddenly, all pretenses gone as she feels her lower lip begin to tremble. She scrubs furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand, and through her fingers she can see her brother's eyes widen, frozen in half-surprise. Under their feet the ship rocks back and forth, creaking slowly and nearly drowning out Peter's muttered 'Oh, Lu,' before he pulls her into an tight embrace.
"I'm not a baby, you know," she mumbles into his sleeve, face buried as she blinks away at the wells of frustrated tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. Instead she bites at her lip instead, determined to not blub all over his good leather jacket.
"I know, Lu."
The hand at her back helps.
--------------------
"Remember to stay below deck if a storm comes," Susan shouts half-frantically from the edge of the dock, long coat tucked around her arms as her raven hair billows about like a wild net. Her face is a pale dot in a sea of black, stark worry etched across her slender features. Beside her Peter's mouth is pressed into a pencil-thin line, edges turned up into a stiff smile as he waves one hand back and forth through the gusty wind. "And don't lean so far out over the edge."
From her precarious position half-bent over The Lion's Song's rail guard, Lucy grins and rolls her eyes skyward before taking a very gracious half-step backward.
"She is ready to sail on your command, majesty," her captain whispers in her ear, and at her nod the tall, dark-headed faun bows respectfully before shouting up at the crew to man the sails. Her siblings have gone out of their way to fill the ship near to brimming with a menagerie of crew members, the twenty beasts almost too many for the dainty galley to accommodate. Fauns and otters and even a naiad have volunteered to protect their youngest queen and to attend Narnia's very first maiden voyage - traveling from Cair Paravel out into the deep waters of the Eastern Sea, before looping lazily back round to dock at Glasswater two days later. Lucy can't help but think that it's a rather unnecessary fuss for such a short trip. But she's clever enough not to press her luck, and so instead she stands on tip-toe to wave frantically at her brother and sister below.
--------------------
The sea is even more beautiful in the deeps - Paravel now no more than a speck on a speck in the far distance. Her calm blue has turned to a rolling green-grey that churns beneath them, nearly masking the snatches of purples and golds that play below the surface. Narnia and her neighbors are vast, but the sea goes on for ever - no beginning nor end in sight - and Lucy thinks that Peter might be a slight less worried about their neighbors were he to see the world now. Meanwhile she watches lazily from her cabin, chin against her palms, elbows against the window's sill. Through the open porthole the briny smell of salt fills her nose, stinging her eyes as she hums every other note of A Sailor Went to Sea.
Two verses through she breaks off abruptly with a sudden sense of purpose, leaping to her feet and striding to the upper deck to take stock of their barrings.
--------------------
"Pirates sighted stern-side!" Captain Brakkus bellows over the wind, his voice wholly commanding, and yet Lucy can still pluck out the tiny note of unraveling worry picking apart at the words. Around her the crew rushes with a wild purpose - The Lion's Song has no canons nor weapons save for some small store of arrows and swords. Instead the fauns heft barrels of water and dried fish above their heads before tumbling them into the sea to spin, lost, in the haphazard wake behind them. The lost weight leaves them faster but not fast enough, too small to outrun the enormous galley ship that looms larger and larger until she is nearly atop them, her layers of decks and portholes stacked high into the air. Lucy stares in shock at the skyline of sea-stained wood towering above her head, shoulders trembling as her eyes skitter over the dotted lines of canons and the stark red flag rippling in the wind.
"Majesty." And Brakkus is at her side, gently shaking her out of her reverie. His face is grim but unrelenting. "We must get you below deck where it is safer. We will attempt to negotiate safe passage, but on the High King's orders you must stay hidden, understand?"
The floor pitches wildly beneath her feet, and Brakkus reaches out to steady her before repeating his words. Some part of her does desperately want to hide, tucked away with her brothers or Susan or Mr. Tumnus who she has left what now seemed like painful ages ago. But she is a queen, and Aslan has chosen her, and so instead she tosses her chin into the air, smiling until the corners of her mouth begin to ache.
"It'll be all right," she insists, small hands covering one of his as the first ropes fly down to latch onto their deck.
--------------------
"My name is Lucy, Queen of Narnia," she yells from the ship's prow, small girl's voice carrying out to the waves and over the two dozen new men who have piled menacingly on board their deck. "And I want to know what you think you are doing on board my ship."
Without a moment's hesitation a raucous laughter suddenly springs up, half the men bent double as they slap their knees and rattle their swords. Queen! Did she say queen? The words flick back and forth, high pitched and mocking before falling into howling cackles once again. Despite their manners these fair-haired pirates seem well-kept - groomed in simple but clean attire, and not at all like the pirates Lucy had imagined in the storybooks back home.
They are just as unbearably rude however, and she impatiently crosses her arms before fixing them with a sour look. "I'm still waiting for my answer."
The men are in near-hysterics now, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. Behind her the Narnian beasts seem ready to pull their own swords, taut with fear and now furious indignation, and Lucy catches Brakkus's eye before giving him a tiny shake of her head.
Turning back, she notices that not all of the pirates have partaken in their insulting merriment - and with a new interest she glances upward at the foremost of the men, some three or four dressed more grandly than the others, silver thread lining the edges of their jackets. The most elegantly dressed stands tall, shoulders broad and fair skin well-tanned and hardened by the sun. His face is long and clean-shaven, and his eyes, she realizes, have not left her since she first spoke.
"Show some damn respect, you poxy dogs," he suddenly barks, voice loud and booming as it shuts the jaw of every man on board. It is difficult to say who is more surprised, the pirates or the Narnians, but there is little time to compare before their leader rattles on, pacing round to glare in the mens' faces before finally turning back to incline his head at Lucy. "My apologies, small lady; my crew is long from home and their manners are in sordid disuse."
He seems to be a fair fellow, and the trembling ball of worry knotted in her stomach slowly begins to unfold. Her crew too seems more at ease, still cautious as they sheath what weapons they had hastily drawn. "None taken at all, sir," she chirps, rewarding him with a wide smile.
Not all of his men seem so readily convinced however, and a stocky lad steps forward, heavy eyebrows pinched together. "Sir, she's clearly of Archenland-"
"An Archenland noblegirl alone on the seas with a crew of talking beasts? Don't be a fool," he snaps back. "They wear the old Narnian colors, and you know the rumors."
That seems to stop their jawing straight away, some of them men even flushing with slow-blooming embarrassment while others bow their heads with abrupt respect. Even the rudest of the lot who still stand lax and bored toward the back of the group are blissfully silent, and Lucy considers what a good stroke of luck they've had, to be boarded by pirates with such a sense of courtesy.
"I assure you gentlebeasts that we would have never taken your ship had we known she was manned by Narnians." Their captain has begun to speak again, this time turning to address her crew as a whole as he sweeps his arm wide. "I beg your forgiveness and humbly request council with your mistress. I would not be so bold, but it is a matter of great import for our homeland."
She can practically feel Brakkus glowering at her shoulder, the faint clink of his sword prompting her to grasp his hand in hers before she spins him toward the galley ladder and smiles over her shoulder. "That sounds lovely. May my captain attend too?"
"Whatever you wish, mistress," he replies, gesturing to his crew to stay put before following quickly down the ladder and into the dark, oil-lit bowels of the ship.
--------------------
"I am Tamian," he begins as soon as they are below deck, seated round the sturdy oak table within Brakkus's captain's quarters. "Knight of Galma and captain of The Night Jewel."
Out of the corner of her eye she spies Brakkus's ears perk upward. "A knight?" she asks, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The only knight she has known had been her brother, and that had scarce little to do with the open ocean. "What in the world are you doing on board a pirate ship?"
At that Tamian's face suddenly pinches up, his pleasant features skewed into one of disgust for a split moment before they smooth over once again. "That is the reason I have need to speak with you, my lady. Galma is a but little land - not a country in her own right and too small to flourish by herself. In the days before the White Witch, we ourselves had been Narnian."
Lucy's eyes abruptly widen, overcome with excitement at the prospect of islands and friendship and true Narnian men and women. But with a supreme effort she presses her lips shut, determined to remain polite and patient until the story is through.
"The witch drove the men to the islands and sealed the mainland from us. We lack resources and gold, and so we must acquire them by other means. Our ship and others like it are sanctioned by the Duke of Galma, and we plunder the vessels of more fortunate nations only for the health and well-being of our people. It isn't an uncommon practice," he quickly adds at her look of concern. "Three hundred years ago Tisroc Binatith made Calormen the richest land in the world through piracy."
"You shouldn't need to steal though," Lucy finally replies, voice sharper than she intended as she frowns. Clearing her throat she takes on a sweeter tone instead, unclenching the fingers in her lap. "Not if you were a part of Narnia again."
Tamian watches her carefully from the other end of the table before he suddenly smiles broadly, rising from his seat and bowing low at the waist with a flourish. "Small lady, queen or no, would you do us the honor of returning to Galma? I believe my lord the duke would greatly desire to speak with you."
--------------------
Her tour of Galma's outer banks is lovely - their pace slow and leisurely as she follows stride for stride beside Duke Norrial's broad-shouldered figure. A respectful distance behind trails Tamian and their Galman guide, who happily points out the expansive docks filled to the brim with ships and local boats. The air smells strongly of salt and fish, Lucy breathing it in deeply to comment on the wonder of it all before their guide hastily explains away that today is the local open market, and perhaps her majesty would instead prefer the indoor air.
She certainly would not, and so instead they press onward, skirting the edges of the colorful stands piled high with crafted goods, meats, and fish. Baskets woven with sweetgrass is something of a Galman specialty, and Lucy happily purchases one for Susan before their party continues on toward the pebble beach shore.
"Tamian tells me that you are interested in returning Galma to Narnian rule," Duke Norrial observes casually, turning to watch the waves curl and tumble across the rocky beach. His embroidered sleeves billow happily in the light breeze, the fine shirt dyed blue to match the sea and cut in what seems to be the Galman style, simple and airy.
The sea seems somewhat brighter here, clearer and clean as it washes ashore - and Lucy must remind herself that a cordial queen is one who pays attention. "Yes, but only if you'd like. We're not some lot of invaders, if that's what you're worried about."
Norrial gives a bark of laughter, followed quickly by a guffaw from Tamian. "My grandfather had aspirations of sovereignty. He even called himself King of Galma until he passed. I have no such delusions of grandeur however; this duchy has too many mouths to feed and not the means to do it. We will welcome the re-recognition with open arms, my queen. I only wish it had come about sooner."
"We've been rather busy," Lucy explains sheepishly, her grin lopsided but honestly apologetic as she clutches Susan's basket with both hands. "My brother - High King Peter, I mean - I know he'll be glad to help with supplies. We've just had some trouble getting started is all; it's difficult to travel and trade without any ships."
"Now that," Norrial replies as he watches the waves, "Is something we can assist with."
--------------------
Half a knot from Cair Paravel's coastline, Lucy suddenly realizes that they have nowhere to dock the armada behind her.
It matters little however - the larger ships well-equip with anchors and dinghies to row ashore in. Their dock will surely need to be expanded soon, but for now they tie only The Lion's Song to its single-planked side. Glancing over the side, Lucy can see that a gathering of talking beasts and two taller figures are already piled alongside it, crowding the narrow walkway as the Narnians crane their necks back to watch the hoard of galley ships bobbing back and forth across the water.
Peter is most visible at the forefront of the crowd, and as she climbs down the ladder Lucy watches at least four distinct expressions of worry, relief, anger, and utter shock pile across his face in a rather nasty mess. Beside him Susan has merely settled upon 'relief,' and her sister flies out from the group to throw her arms around Lucy's shoulders as soon as her feet hit the ground.
"I'm all right, really," Lucy insists above the stream of furious concern that Susan has begun to voice, including a good number of 'where have you been' and 'what were you thinking's. She sighs and nods at each of them, taking her scolding in stride until Peter finally fixes her with a look, blue eyes piercing under his fringe of hair.
"Now listen, Lucy, I mean it - if you ever again-"
"Really, I'm all right," she cuts in again, staunchly refusing to be bossed about in front of her new crew. "It's only been a few days, and now we have enough ships to visit of all your silly countries and trade forever and ever."
Realization slowly blossoms across Peter's face, crowding out the anger and confusion as he glances from her and out to the collection of ships dotting their coastline. After a long moment he finally shakes his head in defeat and joins Susan in her embrace, squeezing Lucy almost embarrassingly tight. "Just try not to get yourself into too much trouble. Okay, Lu?"
Past her siblings she can see Duke Norrial's boat glide toward shore over the gentle slope of the water, watching its prow cut through the foam-tinged greens before she smiles and rests her cheek against her brother's shoulder. "Of course."
Original Prompt:
What I want: [I'm just going to throw a bunch out for picking and choosing] world building, Narnia as character, Pevensies, Rilian, England, Narnia, travel (Narnia or England - extra points for boom-de-yada levels of nature glory), [am I allowed to ask for crossovers? If so,] Merlin/Narnia
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: Narnian (Narnian world) poetry, Pirate Queen Lucy, this poem: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/H/HirshfieldJa/Metempsychos.htm, rebellion, Pevensies: trade negotiations
What I definitely don't want in my fic: evil stupid Susan, Lucy as a total infant, any of the Pevensies (if them) being sidelined or degraded, Calormenes being wholly and completely evil
Author: gothic_hamlet
Recipient: metonomia
Rating: PG
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Post-LWW, Lucy-centric
Summary: The world is much larger than any of them had expected.
Lucy awakens to the crash of the sea at her window - to the pinpoints of white and the impossible rolling vastness of blue a hundred feet below the stones of Cair Paravel. Curled around the warmth beneath her blankets, she waits and listens to the sound of the waves, eyes still heavy and fogged with sleep. Their hum and aww drowns out the staccato chorus of dumb birds that flock about the tower, the sound overpowering even the deeper and and more practiced songs of talking robins and magpies who still cry out in celebration for their new kings and queens.
Eventually she grows restless and pulls herself upright - stretching her hands above her head before toeing the warm stone floor with one foot. Mornings are the least enjoyable of the day, Paravel left half-empty until lunchtime as her siblings scrabble to steady an entire country finally awakened from imprisonment. Peter, she knows, has advisers to meet with, Edmund already holed up in court and Susan at work hearing out requests for aid. Her own job is to make herself available to any well-wishers who still travel to the castle, and yet Lucy knows that there is much more that she might do if only given the chance.
Turning to the open window, she takes a deep breath of the salt-scented air before tossing on a robe and preparing for the day.
--------------------
The world is much larger than any of them had expected.
Scarcely one month has passed when the first missives begin to arrive - gifts and congratulations and requests for trade from countries father away than any of them had thought existed. Edmund finds a map buried deep within the north tower, pulling it out into the sunlight before dragging his finger across its strange, secretive names. Telmar. Archenland. Uncharted Wild Lands to the north and beneath an impossible expanse of desert. To the east lay the Great Eastern Ocean, and Lucy's eyes widen in unbridled delight as she follows the bold blue strokes until they fall right over the edge of the map's gold-leaf frame.
"We'll need to visit," Peter muses, brows heavy in thought as he studies their neighbors.
Lucy tears herself away from the sea and its peppering of tiny islands to give him an enthusiastic smile, outshining Edmund's look of skepticism and Susan's one of concern. "Really? Which ones?"
"All of them."
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The world is terribly large, and Narnia has not one ship about her.
Before the long winter, the country boasted a powerful navy; dozens of merchant vessels had dotted the winding coast, keeping a healthy stream of Narnian trade flowing back to her lands. At least according to Mr. Tumnus, who has consulted what ancient records he could find. A hundred years of snow and frozen oceans have given little cause for shipbuilding - even less for trade with a country barred from all outsiders, her borders protected by thick walls of ice and magic.
But spring is here and Peter immediately commissions the first ship to be built. Or salvaged, at least, the hulls of some five or six galleys pulled from their icy tombs at Glasswater. Lucy picks out the smallest of the lot - tiny and light but the least damaged, and the gathered beasts immediately set to work restoring her under the careful, eager watch of the youngest queen.
--------------------
"Peter, please," Lucy begs again. The waves about them sound in chorus, carrying her voice up to where Peter is turned at the prow of the ship, half-listening as he counts off barrels of fresh water for the voyage. Her hair is twisted and pulled into the most grown-up style she could muster, braided back by a willowy dryad with fingers like twisted branches. It's not enough, and Lucy takes a long, careful breath, steeling her voice into something low and steady. "Peter. Please."
He glances up this time, but not without a a sharp frown - as though he were the one being denied some poor request. "No, Lu. It's too much to do on your own."
It's not the first time she's heard these words. Not the first time since The Lion's Song had been declared seaworthy, spurring a flurry of preparations for her maiden voyage. Not the first time since they had been children in that other place ages ago, and with a little shake Lucy reminds herself that here she is royalty, and jerks her chin into the air.
"But why?" she quips, arms folded crossly as she purses her lips and glares up at him. "Glasswater isn't so far away at all, and it's only a little trip."
"It's too much for you," Peter repeats before fixing her with a weary look, and Lucy recognizes it from the days before Beruna, when their army had been preparing to march against the witch. There had been too much to do then as well, although those times had not involved trade disputes and trials and a thousand requests for parley.
"Edmund's stuck in Archenland and I know you're meeting with Telmar's ambassador this week. And Susan hates boats, so don't even pretend that she wants to go."
"Susan can handle it."
"Susan's not the only queen!" Lucy blurts suddenly, all pretenses gone as she feels her lower lip begin to tremble. She scrubs furiously at her eyes with the back of her hand, and through her fingers she can see her brother's eyes widen, frozen in half-surprise. Under their feet the ship rocks back and forth, creaking slowly and nearly drowning out Peter's muttered 'Oh, Lu,' before he pulls her into an tight embrace.
"I'm not a baby, you know," she mumbles into his sleeve, face buried as she blinks away at the wells of frustrated tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. Instead she bites at her lip instead, determined to not blub all over his good leather jacket.
"I know, Lu."
The hand at her back helps.
--------------------
"Remember to stay below deck if a storm comes," Susan shouts half-frantically from the edge of the dock, long coat tucked around her arms as her raven hair billows about like a wild net. Her face is a pale dot in a sea of black, stark worry etched across her slender features. Beside her Peter's mouth is pressed into a pencil-thin line, edges turned up into a stiff smile as he waves one hand back and forth through the gusty wind. "And don't lean so far out over the edge."
From her precarious position half-bent over The Lion's Song's rail guard, Lucy grins and rolls her eyes skyward before taking a very gracious half-step backward.
"She is ready to sail on your command, majesty," her captain whispers in her ear, and at her nod the tall, dark-headed faun bows respectfully before shouting up at the crew to man the sails. Her siblings have gone out of their way to fill the ship near to brimming with a menagerie of crew members, the twenty beasts almost too many for the dainty galley to accommodate. Fauns and otters and even a naiad have volunteered to protect their youngest queen and to attend Narnia's very first maiden voyage - traveling from Cair Paravel out into the deep waters of the Eastern Sea, before looping lazily back round to dock at Glasswater two days later. Lucy can't help but think that it's a rather unnecessary fuss for such a short trip. But she's clever enough not to press her luck, and so instead she stands on tip-toe to wave frantically at her brother and sister below.
--------------------
The sea is even more beautiful in the deeps - Paravel now no more than a speck on a speck in the far distance. Her calm blue has turned to a rolling green-grey that churns beneath them, nearly masking the snatches of purples and golds that play below the surface. Narnia and her neighbors are vast, but the sea goes on for ever - no beginning nor end in sight - and Lucy thinks that Peter might be a slight less worried about their neighbors were he to see the world now. Meanwhile she watches lazily from her cabin, chin against her palms, elbows against the window's sill. Through the open porthole the briny smell of salt fills her nose, stinging her eyes as she hums every other note of A Sailor Went to Sea.
Two verses through she breaks off abruptly with a sudden sense of purpose, leaping to her feet and striding to the upper deck to take stock of their barrings.
--------------------
"Pirates sighted stern-side!" Captain Brakkus bellows over the wind, his voice wholly commanding, and yet Lucy can still pluck out the tiny note of unraveling worry picking apart at the words. Around her the crew rushes with a wild purpose - The Lion's Song has no canons nor weapons save for some small store of arrows and swords. Instead the fauns heft barrels of water and dried fish above their heads before tumbling them into the sea to spin, lost, in the haphazard wake behind them. The lost weight leaves them faster but not fast enough, too small to outrun the enormous galley ship that looms larger and larger until she is nearly atop them, her layers of decks and portholes stacked high into the air. Lucy stares in shock at the skyline of sea-stained wood towering above her head, shoulders trembling as her eyes skitter over the dotted lines of canons and the stark red flag rippling in the wind.
"Majesty." And Brakkus is at her side, gently shaking her out of her reverie. His face is grim but unrelenting. "We must get you below deck where it is safer. We will attempt to negotiate safe passage, but on the High King's orders you must stay hidden, understand?"
The floor pitches wildly beneath her feet, and Brakkus reaches out to steady her before repeating his words. Some part of her does desperately want to hide, tucked away with her brothers or Susan or Mr. Tumnus who she has left what now seemed like painful ages ago. But she is a queen, and Aslan has chosen her, and so instead she tosses her chin into the air, smiling until the corners of her mouth begin to ache.
"It'll be all right," she insists, small hands covering one of his as the first ropes fly down to latch onto their deck.
--------------------
"My name is Lucy, Queen of Narnia," she yells from the ship's prow, small girl's voice carrying out to the waves and over the two dozen new men who have piled menacingly on board their deck. "And I want to know what you think you are doing on board my ship."
Without a moment's hesitation a raucous laughter suddenly springs up, half the men bent double as they slap their knees and rattle their swords. Queen! Did she say queen? The words flick back and forth, high pitched and mocking before falling into howling cackles once again. Despite their manners these fair-haired pirates seem well-kept - groomed in simple but clean attire, and not at all like the pirates Lucy had imagined in the storybooks back home.
They are just as unbearably rude however, and she impatiently crosses her arms before fixing them with a sour look. "I'm still waiting for my answer."
The men are in near-hysterics now, wiping tears of laughter from their eyes. Behind her the Narnian beasts seem ready to pull their own swords, taut with fear and now furious indignation, and Lucy catches Brakkus's eye before giving him a tiny shake of her head.
Turning back, she notices that not all of the pirates have partaken in their insulting merriment - and with a new interest she glances upward at the foremost of the men, some three or four dressed more grandly than the others, silver thread lining the edges of their jackets. The most elegantly dressed stands tall, shoulders broad and fair skin well-tanned and hardened by the sun. His face is long and clean-shaven, and his eyes, she realizes, have not left her since she first spoke.
"Show some damn respect, you poxy dogs," he suddenly barks, voice loud and booming as it shuts the jaw of every man on board. It is difficult to say who is more surprised, the pirates or the Narnians, but there is little time to compare before their leader rattles on, pacing round to glare in the mens' faces before finally turning back to incline his head at Lucy. "My apologies, small lady; my crew is long from home and their manners are in sordid disuse."
He seems to be a fair fellow, and the trembling ball of worry knotted in her stomach slowly begins to unfold. Her crew too seems more at ease, still cautious as they sheath what weapons they had hastily drawn. "None taken at all, sir," she chirps, rewarding him with a wide smile.
Not all of his men seem so readily convinced however, and a stocky lad steps forward, heavy eyebrows pinched together. "Sir, she's clearly of Archenland-"
"An Archenland noblegirl alone on the seas with a crew of talking beasts? Don't be a fool," he snaps back. "They wear the old Narnian colors, and you know the rumors."
That seems to stop their jawing straight away, some of them men even flushing with slow-blooming embarrassment while others bow their heads with abrupt respect. Even the rudest of the lot who still stand lax and bored toward the back of the group are blissfully silent, and Lucy considers what a good stroke of luck they've had, to be boarded by pirates with such a sense of courtesy.
"I assure you gentlebeasts that we would have never taken your ship had we known she was manned by Narnians." Their captain has begun to speak again, this time turning to address her crew as a whole as he sweeps his arm wide. "I beg your forgiveness and humbly request council with your mistress. I would not be so bold, but it is a matter of great import for our homeland."
She can practically feel Brakkus glowering at her shoulder, the faint clink of his sword prompting her to grasp his hand in hers before she spins him toward the galley ladder and smiles over her shoulder. "That sounds lovely. May my captain attend too?"
"Whatever you wish, mistress," he replies, gesturing to his crew to stay put before following quickly down the ladder and into the dark, oil-lit bowels of the ship.
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"I am Tamian," he begins as soon as they are below deck, seated round the sturdy oak table within Brakkus's captain's quarters. "Knight of Galma and captain of The Night Jewel."
Out of the corner of her eye she spies Brakkus's ears perk upward. "A knight?" she asks, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. The only knight she has known had been her brother, and that had scarce little to do with the open ocean. "What in the world are you doing on board a pirate ship?"
At that Tamian's face suddenly pinches up, his pleasant features skewed into one of disgust for a split moment before they smooth over once again. "That is the reason I have need to speak with you, my lady. Galma is a but little land - not a country in her own right and too small to flourish by herself. In the days before the White Witch, we ourselves had been Narnian."
Lucy's eyes abruptly widen, overcome with excitement at the prospect of islands and friendship and true Narnian men and women. But with a supreme effort she presses her lips shut, determined to remain polite and patient until the story is through.
"The witch drove the men to the islands and sealed the mainland from us. We lack resources and gold, and so we must acquire them by other means. Our ship and others like it are sanctioned by the Duke of Galma, and we plunder the vessels of more fortunate nations only for the health and well-being of our people. It isn't an uncommon practice," he quickly adds at her look of concern. "Three hundred years ago Tisroc Binatith made Calormen the richest land in the world through piracy."
"You shouldn't need to steal though," Lucy finally replies, voice sharper than she intended as she frowns. Clearing her throat she takes on a sweeter tone instead, unclenching the fingers in her lap. "Not if you were a part of Narnia again."
Tamian watches her carefully from the other end of the table before he suddenly smiles broadly, rising from his seat and bowing low at the waist with a flourish. "Small lady, queen or no, would you do us the honor of returning to Galma? I believe my lord the duke would greatly desire to speak with you."
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Her tour of Galma's outer banks is lovely - their pace slow and leisurely as she follows stride for stride beside Duke Norrial's broad-shouldered figure. A respectful distance behind trails Tamian and their Galman guide, who happily points out the expansive docks filled to the brim with ships and local boats. The air smells strongly of salt and fish, Lucy breathing it in deeply to comment on the wonder of it all before their guide hastily explains away that today is the local open market, and perhaps her majesty would instead prefer the indoor air.
She certainly would not, and so instead they press onward, skirting the edges of the colorful stands piled high with crafted goods, meats, and fish. Baskets woven with sweetgrass is something of a Galman specialty, and Lucy happily purchases one for Susan before their party continues on toward the pebble beach shore.
"Tamian tells me that you are interested in returning Galma to Narnian rule," Duke Norrial observes casually, turning to watch the waves curl and tumble across the rocky beach. His embroidered sleeves billow happily in the light breeze, the fine shirt dyed blue to match the sea and cut in what seems to be the Galman style, simple and airy.
The sea seems somewhat brighter here, clearer and clean as it washes ashore - and Lucy must remind herself that a cordial queen is one who pays attention. "Yes, but only if you'd like. We're not some lot of invaders, if that's what you're worried about."
Norrial gives a bark of laughter, followed quickly by a guffaw from Tamian. "My grandfather had aspirations of sovereignty. He even called himself King of Galma until he passed. I have no such delusions of grandeur however; this duchy has too many mouths to feed and not the means to do it. We will welcome the re-recognition with open arms, my queen. I only wish it had come about sooner."
"We've been rather busy," Lucy explains sheepishly, her grin lopsided but honestly apologetic as she clutches Susan's basket with both hands. "My brother - High King Peter, I mean - I know he'll be glad to help with supplies. We've just had some trouble getting started is all; it's difficult to travel and trade without any ships."
"Now that," Norrial replies as he watches the waves, "Is something we can assist with."
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Half a knot from Cair Paravel's coastline, Lucy suddenly realizes that they have nowhere to dock the armada behind her.
It matters little however - the larger ships well-equip with anchors and dinghies to row ashore in. Their dock will surely need to be expanded soon, but for now they tie only The Lion's Song to its single-planked side. Glancing over the side, Lucy can see that a gathering of talking beasts and two taller figures are already piled alongside it, crowding the narrow walkway as the Narnians crane their necks back to watch the hoard of galley ships bobbing back and forth across the water.
Peter is most visible at the forefront of the crowd, and as she climbs down the ladder Lucy watches at least four distinct expressions of worry, relief, anger, and utter shock pile across his face in a rather nasty mess. Beside him Susan has merely settled upon 'relief,' and her sister flies out from the group to throw her arms around Lucy's shoulders as soon as her feet hit the ground.
"I'm all right, really," Lucy insists above the stream of furious concern that Susan has begun to voice, including a good number of 'where have you been' and 'what were you thinking's. She sighs and nods at each of them, taking her scolding in stride until Peter finally fixes her with a look, blue eyes piercing under his fringe of hair.
"Now listen, Lucy, I mean it - if you ever again-"
"Really, I'm all right," she cuts in again, staunchly refusing to be bossed about in front of her new crew. "It's only been a few days, and now we have enough ships to visit of all your silly countries and trade forever and ever."
Realization slowly blossoms across Peter's face, crowding out the anger and confusion as he glances from her and out to the collection of ships dotting their coastline. After a long moment he finally shakes his head in defeat and joins Susan in her embrace, squeezing Lucy almost embarrassingly tight. "Just try not to get yourself into too much trouble. Okay, Lu?"
Past her siblings she can see Duke Norrial's boat glide toward shore over the gentle slope of the water, watching its prow cut through the foam-tinged greens before she smiles and rests her cheek against her brother's shoulder. "Of course."
Original Prompt:
What I want: [I'm just going to throw a bunch out for picking and choosing] world building, Narnia as character, Pevensies, Rilian, England, Narnia, travel (Narnia or England - extra points for boom-de-yada levels of nature glory), [am I allowed to ask for crossovers? If so,] Merlin/Narnia
Prompt words/objects/quotes/whatever: Narnian (Narnian world) poetry, Pirate Queen Lucy, this poem: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/H/HirshfieldJa/Metempsychos.htm, rebellion, Pevensies: trade negotiations
What I definitely don't want in my fic: evil stupid Susan, Lucy as a total infant, any of the Pevensies (if them) being sidelined or degraded, Calormenes being wholly and completely evil