Moonshine

Chapter 28- Aftó Pou Agapáme

αυτό που αγαπάμε: aftó pou agapáme
Greek
What We Love
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"I don't understand the point of a Ball."

"No one asked you to attend." Reepicheep told the dwarf, though he shared his sentiments. "But I agree. They could've had a duel exhibition, instead."

"Or a nothing." Trumpkin shrugged, glancing around the ballroom. He hadn't even wanted to step foot in the castle, where he had been locked up and beaten- but Caspian had spoken to him, apologised, and then promised that, if the dwarf was truly unable to stay, he would arrange for quarters for him wherever he liked.

Trumpkin's grumpiness had thawed a little, and Lucy's encouraging smile had led to him agreeing to stay at the castle- temporarily.

"I can only see Caspian-" the new King was talking to his Professor, looking faintly worried, "and Queen Lucy," who was laughing with a pair of dryads, "but where are the others?"

"I saw High King Peter skulking off somewhere a few minutes ago, and I think Queen Susan was hunting for him, but I am not sure. As for King Edmund, I have no idea." The mouse, who was standing on top of the top rail of a chair, said, looking keenly around as well. "Probably with his queen-wife."

Trumpkin frowned, "Did not expect the Just King to be such a hoversome husband."

"Neither did I." Came a voice from the side, and the two turned to see Queen Sanya there, clad in a lavender gown, a cane gripped in one of her hands to support herself. She still looked ill, but she was smiling. "But I suppose that's what happens when your dead wife comes back to life."

The mouse and the dwarf bowed at once, with the former offering a, "You look gloriously splendacious, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, um, Reepicheep."
She couldn't be sure, but she thought she had met him only once before- he was adorable. So very adorable. Sanya just wanted to put him in her pocket.
"But that's a compliment to be made to the dressmakers. I-" she coughed a little, and the pair looked worried, "sorry. I'm not quite well yet. Anyway, all credits to the ones who made this gown."

Sanya had worn gowns often, usually in the Narnian style, in the Golden Age- but she had always preferred her kurtas and lehengas, for she was more familiar with them.
But this gown, though far from her simple style, was utterly gorgeous. It was lavender, with off-shoulder angel-sleeves (so the maid who had helped her dress had said), with a billowing skirt, made of layers and layers of tulle, and quite a bit of lace detail.

Sanya felt like she was wearing flower petals, and not least because there were patterns of floral motifs embroidered into the bodice. Her hair was combed for the first time in centuries, and pulled back into a low, loose bun- some tendrils of hair had left out of the bun to frame her face- and she wore the slightest dash of makeup. She had not wanted it, but she had acquiesced in the end, mainly because she had been won over by a pretty, headband-like tiara of starbursts that currently sat atop her head.

But, for all that she was noticing and paying attention to clothing for the first time in her life- what she had focused on most was the multitude of injuries she had.
She hadn't known what to do with them. Wear a hooded cloak to hide her bandages? Try to paint over the bruises and scars? Just ignore their existence, and leave them be?

In the end, she had chosen to forego both cloak and concealer, and she had taken off her bandages, too- she'd decided that there was no need to cover her wounds, and so her half-healed injuries were on full display.