αυτό που αγαπάμε: aftó pou agapáme
Greek
What We Love
-
"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.
She had looked in the mirror and felt like a child playing dress-up for a moment- but after that? After that, she had liked looking at herself. It was the first time in millennia that she had worn anything charming, and the first time in a very long time that she felt even halfway tolerable.
Sanya would've been fine wearing a tunic of Ed's and breeches, but she couldn't deny that she felt pretty.
She liked feeling like that. She wondered if she'd ever feel it again.
"You look wondrously well, too, both of you." She returned the compliment a little awkwardly, looking at Trumpkin's braided beard, and the small doublet Reepicheep wore, his miniscule sword hanging from a belt.
They both bent their heads low, "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Sanya is fine, thank you."
"If I could be so bold- where did you get that?" Reepicheep queried after a moment, nodding his head towards her collarbone, where there was a scar the length of his entire body just under two little scars, both clearly old and the size of a nail.
"Well, this-" She tapped at the first of the smaller ones, "was when I was reading a book and I accidentally cut myself with its edges. That was in the Golden Age, though, I was hardly six or seven. The book was hardbound, you understand."
The two nodded, though it would've been clear to anyone who knew them that they did not understand.
“This one was when I duelled Peter before our battle with the giants.” She said, tapping the other small one. She usually forgot this one existed, it was that minute. “I disarmed him first, so I really won, but as it was till first blood, I made him cut me a bit so he was technically the winner.”
Trumpkin would definitely be spreading this bit of history to all the Narnians.
"And this-" Sanya fingered the longer one- it had been stitched and was healing, but still quite red with clotted blood, a scarlet line across her brown skin, "was when a Faerie tried to slit my throat in the dark, but missed. It wasn't a fatal wound, thankfully."
She hadn't realised quite how ghastly the wound was until she had seen it in the mirror. She hadn't even felt it when it had happened, she had been focused on surviving. Edmund hadn't said anything when he'd seen it, perhaps because he'd probably already seen it before, but his jaw had clenched.
It felt very jarring, standing where she was. Mere days ago, she had been in the Faerie Realm, on the brink of death, several times, almost starved, and she'd been killing and talking to Gods and doing everything to make it out.
And now she had made it out, and she was in her world, and she had reunited with her Edmund- she had a proper bed to sleep in, and she was being offered food that wasn't a dead lizard, and she wore clothes that weren't tattered and bloodied- and she just couldn't wrap her head around it.
Everything that had happened to her in Neráida, from that tower to her brief dalliance with the Faerie Queen to her quest- it felt both like a fading dream and an all-too fresh memory, which didn't even make sense.
Sanya was beyond glad she was here, and that she had found what she had sacrificed everything for- but it still felt strange. She couldn't quite believe it yet.
"That sounds," Trumpkin cleared his throat, not quite sure of what to say, "er, sounds like a bad time. Do say, where is King Edmund?"
Sanya blinked at the topic change, but went along with it, "He's gone to get drinks."
He frowned at her, "I don't think it's advisable for children to drink."
"All I drink is water or juice." Sanya shrugged a shoulder, and then had quite the fright as one of her sleeves almost fell off. Adjusting it quickly with the hand that wasn't holding the cane- her knee was still not quite right- she went on, "I don't drink alcohol. Never have."
Except for one or two times, purely because she'd wanted to know what it tasted and felt like.
"A lifetime without getting drunk?" Reepicheep peered at her, his hazel eyes wide in disbelief. "Now that's bravery."
"Spoken like a true knight." Said another voice, and the Rihaayan turned to see her husband, two goblets in each hand. He leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek, and smiled, his dark eyes alight with mirth and love. "Hey, beautiful."
Her brows went up, a deep blush immediately coating her cheeks.
To think she'd spent the first decade and a half of her life thinking that the redness of a blush didn't show on brown skin!
And now- well, she didn't think there would ever come a day spent with her husband that he would not make her blush.
"Beautiful?"
"Just something I'm trying out." He shrugged, before shaking his head at himself. "Not working, is it?"
"I don't mind it," Sanya laughed, reaching out to adjust his lopsided collar, "but Moonshine does remain superior, you know."
"My proudest accomplishment." He chuckled along, before holding out the goblets. "I have water and juice- not mango, though, or orange, it's apple-"
She wrinkled her nose, "I don't like apple juice."
Reepicheep raised his hand, "I do!"
Edmund looked between the goblet and the mouse, both of which were similar in size, and blinked.
"Shall I get you a smaller glass, Reep?"
Trumpkin, who had been looking uncomfortable since Edmund had kissed his wife's cheek, said loudly, "I'll get it. In fact, we both will. Come along, Reepicheep." He added to the mouse, leaning his shoulder ahead for the mouse to climb on. "Good evening, Your Majesties."
And then he fled, a confused Reepicheep on his shoulder.
Sanya looked at her husband, bewilderment written over her face.
"What was that about?"
"People find it awkward to be around couples. Especially couples who've reunited after a very long time." He explained, handing her the goblet of water, and placing the apple juice on the table before them. "Not that I mind their abrupt leave."
Her eyes sparkled, and after a sip of the cool water, she spoke, "Nor do I. You look very, very handsome, husband."
The charcoal tunic he wore was patterned with faint starbursts, like the ones in the tiara she wore, and they were the same shade as her gown. She wondered if that had been intentional.
And then, she remembered how his love and their kisses made her feel like there were starbursts in her heart- as it did even now- and she smiled softly.
"But then again, you always look handsome."
He flushed slightly, "One might say you are biased, darling."
"No, simply truthful." She took another sip of water, and then giggled. "I can't remember if I told you, but the first time I saw you, I compared you to Eros and almost went catatonic when I heard your accent. Even in that blood-stained armour, you were so Eros-like, it was overwhelming. I knew nothing about you then, so I couldn't have been biased, could I?"
"The very first time I saw you," His cheeks flamed, and she tilted her head in wonder, "I could not stop looking at your breasts- they were and are beautiful." He nodded to her chest, and she giggled again. "I was half-scared that your father would murder me if he realised- and then I saw you roll your eyes. That made me feel better, about everything, but mostly about our impending nuptials. And- I'm not sure you remember, but I noticed that you were rubbing your arm, clearly nervous, and you were so bravely hiding it, which was why-"
"I had your respect from the moment we met." She ended. He'd had her admiration, and she'd had his respect. "I remember."
"I'm going to have to come up with so- what is it, Lucy?" He changed sentence mid-word, as his sister came up to him, a great frown on her face. "What do you look so dull for?"
"I can't drink."
"Sure you can."
Her frown deepened, "Alcohol."
"Oh." Edmund and Sanya shared a look. "No, you can't. Even I'm not drinking, because physically I'm just fourteen."
"I miss the faun-wine." She sighed, picking up the flute of apple juice he had put down. "It was my favourite."
"There, there." Edmund patted her shoulder. "At least you've got a very pretty tiara to make up for it."
"It is pretty, isn't it?" The frown melted into a smile, and she fingered the tiara on top of her gold-brown waves of hair. It was woven with golden flowers and vines, with pale sapphires stitched alongside, and it complimented her white gown, patterned with gold-blue flowers and vines embroidered along the shoulders and long sleeves. "Sanya, I adore your dress."
"Why, thank you, Lu." Sanya grinned at her friend. Sometimes she couldn't understand if she was happy or not- she didn't know if she would ever feel that pure wave of happiness again- but she knew that Lucy- and Peter, and Susan, and Edmund, of course- made her want to smile, want to keep living. After everything she'd been through, that was enough for her. "I'd hug you again, but learning from our hug after I woke up, I'm not entirely sure if my ribs are fine yet."
"I'll try to content myself with just smiling at you." And Lucy beamed, brighter than the Sun. "I know I said this already, but I've missed you horribly."
"Me too, Lucy." It was not very easy to speak openly of her feelings, it never had been, but it had been a thousand years and she had missed everything too much. "I don't know if Chloris Meadow is still around, but if it is, we should go there for a picnic soon."
She had meant to ask her earlier in the day- but she'd started on a book after returning from the coronation, and she had been lost to the world.
"I, um, I would advise you do that sooner rather than later." Caspian said, coming up to them, the look of concern he had had earlier still persisting. But he tried for a smile, as he leaned down and kissed his aunt's cheek. "I hope you're feeling well, Aunt Sanya."
"Lying in bed and reading for five hours does wonders." Sanya nodded, smiling back at her nephew. "You're King now- thus, should I bow to you, Capsicum?"
Caspian went red.
"I haven't called myself that in thirteen years-"
His four-year-old self had found his true name quite difficult to pronounce- but, somehow, 'Capsicum' had been all too easy. The eighteen-year-old Caspian felt that his toddler self was full of shit, and that he'd called himself that only because his nurse had kept capsicum flowers in his nursery.
Peter calling him cloud-boy on one hand, and Aunt Sanya calling him Capsicum on the other- Caspian's luck with nicknames was clearly atrocious.
"But it's adorable." It reminded her of Selene's lisp. "Little Prince Capsicum."
Well, King now, but still.
He had told her about it the evening on the day she and the Pevensies had relocated to the Telmarine castle, when they had been discussing plans to remake the countries, as they had been in the Golden Age.
"There were so many Tarkheenas and Tarkhans that they would have filled the entire How and this castle." It was true- Sanya had been related to them, however distantly, and it had always flabbergasted her when she would go to Tashbaan. It was so many people to remember- and her memory was awful. "I am almost certain that there has to be at least a few descendants of theirs living now."
"Yes," Caspian nodded, because she was not wrong, "but the matter is if those descendants are fit to rule-"
"There has to be at least one or two of them who is a Lord or Lady today. Who is the current General of Tashbaan?"
"A Telmarine."
Sanya grimaced, "I thought as much. Well, ask him to seek out descendants of the Tarkhs of our time- and then go from there. The same can work for Archenland, though I don't think there are as many descendants of Cor and Aravis- the Nain you mentioned, I heard he's descended from them?"
"I think so, but I have not made sure. However, he has already sent over several letters asking for Archenland to be its own independent land again, and have sovereignty." He shrugged. "He's considered himself King for a while, and the people in Anvard support him. I think even if we refuse his claims, he'll somehow find a way to make Archenland its own country again."
"You won't refuse his claims, though. I suggest you confirm his descent- or, his ability to rule- and sign whatever decree-" or was it document? "is needed for the sovereignty." She hadn't done all this for so long, she couldn't remember everything. "And for Galma and Rihaaya-"
"They're yours." The Telmarine said instantly. "Of course, they are yours. Galma was ruled by your aunt and uncle- and as for Rihaaya- you are Rihaaya."
She had been thinking of that. Not of being the High Queen again- but of moving to Rihaaya. It was perfectly inhabitable, she had been assured, though the castle had been torn down to make way for military centres centuries ago. She could have a house there- not a castle, not a manor, perhaps just an ordinary house. A townhouse, or a cottage.
She and Edmund could live there, happily. If his brother and sisters remained in Narnia, he could visit them anytime, as would she. They would be together, have the life together that they deserved.
But to rule...she didn't know anymore.
"I- I don't know if I'm fit to rule."
"Of course you are." He couldn't fathom why she was saying that. "You are High Queen, Aunt Sanya, do not think otherwise."
"The last thousand years were torture for me. In every way you can imagine." She bit her lip, and her child-fingers curled into a fist. "I may still be High Queen, but it would be better for all, for me and for the people, if I stepped down."
She didn't want to. She truly didn't want to. But being a Queen wasn't about what you wanted.
"You could rule Narnia and Rihaaya- you and Peter could."
Caspian blushed, "I don't know about that. I don't- well- well, I'm not even King yet. And, honestly, we've to restore the countries first, before we think about who we place on the throne. It won't take long, but it might be difficult."
Sanya nodded at that, and leaned back against the stone wall of the How.
"I agree. Everything has to be planned, and things have to go step by step. I'm not very good at plans- I'm more the impulse." She snorted to herself. "Edmund is my anchor for more just than my powers."
Then Caspian had asked to see her powers, and she had made a globe of water rise from her palm. They'd begun speaking of far less formal matters, from the dogs Sanya had adored in her youth at Azraq to Caspian's fondness of birds, and it had eventually led to him telling her about the nickname.
"What were you saying about having our picnic soon, Caspian?" The poor boy would implode in embarrassment due to Sanya's words, and Lucy wouldn't let that happen- she didn't think anyone would be able to stop Peter from murdering Sanya, and then no one would be able to stop Edmund from murdering Peter. "Why?"
Queen Lucy was easily the little sister he'd wanted to have.
"I'm- I'm not sure if I should tell anyone-"
"You can't say something like that and not say what the actual thing is." Edmund chastised, before nodding to his wife. "She's as curious as the proverbial cat."
"Don't use my curiosity to needle something out of the poor boy." Sanya rolled her eyes, but said, "He's right, though, Capsicum. What is it?"
"Aslan- He told me to gather the populace- both Telmarines and Narnians- in the pavilion day after. As many as possible, at least. He said He will come here again tomorrow, to let me know what for- but at this moment, I cannot think of a reason."
"It can't be anything bad." Lucy said immediately. "It's Aslan! Perhaps He just wants to introduce the Telmarines and Narnians to each other in a peaceful setting."
"Aslan is good, but whatever it is, it must be important." Edmund shared another look with Sanya, who looked troubled. "And important events do not always bring happiness."
"That's true." Sanya nodded, frowning. "He said nothing to Peter? Are you sure? He is the High King, so I would've thought..."
"He might say something to him tomorrow." Caspian said, biting his lip and tugging nervously at the ends of his hair. "I haven't even seen Peter yet-"
"Or Susan, actually." Lucy spoke up. Her sister loved Balls, and her brother loved alcohol. Them missing Balls was practically unheard of. "Have they even arrived?"
They had, in fact.
Peter had been quite down since after they had all stepped foot into the Telmarine castle- not seething with rage, as was normal for him, but something else, something far sadder. He didn't understand it, but he knew he couldn't subject his melancholia to Caspian, not on such a special day.
He had retreated into a hidden corner after taking a good, long look at him- he was glad he was wearing dark green, an inconspicuous colour- and in the corner he had remained, lost in his thoughts.
Susan, on the other hand, had not been lost in any thoughts or sadness- she was simply trying to find her elder brother, which was proving to be quite the Herculean task.
"Finally!" Susan hissed, as she saw a glint of blond hair, a surly face underneath it. "What are you doing here?" He was practically hiding! There was even a large potted plant next to him, shielding him from anyone else's eyeshot. "And with no wine- Peter, are you sulking?"
But Peter had his own comments to make to Susan.
"What are you wearing?"
The Gentle looked down at herself, surprised.
"A gown?"
Her brother stared at it, "What's it made of? Curtains?"
"It's velvet, you arse. And it's beautiful." It was- peacock blue and backless, a single ribbon holding the two sides of the gown together, and golden olive-wreath patterns sewn into the borders. The golden tiara she wore, in the shape of some five-petalled flower, matched beautifully with it. And now her brother was insulting it!
"I thought you prefer frills."
"You mean tulle."
"Tool?"
"No, tulle- oh, why do I bother." She gave an eye-roll. "What are you hiding here for? You and Caspian had a lover's spat?"
"No." He scowled, crossing his arms. "I haven't even spoken to him since we reached the castle and he went to talk to Aslan."
"And is the not speaking your doing, or his?"
"Neither." He shrugged. "He was busy with Aslan, and I was- thinking."
Susan raised her eyes up to the ceiling.
Peter? Thinking?
Aslan save them all.
But she could tell that whatever he was thinking about was affecting him greatly, and her heart melted slightly.
"What about? Talk to me, Peter."
"Do you think we'll leave?"
Susan's heart thudded in her chest, "W-what?"
Peter didn't wish to inflict his pessimism onto her, but he knew if he didn't speak the truth, she'd not forgive him. "Do you think we'll leave Narnia again?"
"I- don't know." Susan really didn't. She was, for once, trying not to think of the long-term- while it lasts, she had told Lucy. She would be happy here for as long as it lasted- but it wouldn't last, if she started wondering about the future. "Do you?"
"We don't- I mean-" Peter pressed his lips together, and swallowed. "The first time- we were to rule. We were meant to rule, decreed by a prophecy. We were needed. But now-" his eyes fell on Caspian, at the far end of the room, and some warmth mixed in with his worry, "now a deserving King has been crowned. He may be a Telmarine, but without him, Narnia would never have been liberated and saved."
He cleared his throat, and went on, "And- Susan. What were we both suffering from most, in England?"
"Puberty?"
Peter was about to shake his head, when he stopped himself.
"Well, you're not wrong. But what I meant was- you were far too ready to adjust to England, for good. And I was-" the worst version of himself, "I was so angry. I was violent- I don't think I felt such rage even in battle."
"But we're not any of that anymore." Susan said softly, taking his hand. "I am so happy we are in Narnia again- it may not be the Narnia we knew, but it's the world we love, nevertheless. And you- well, you may still be a hothead-" that would never change about him, she was sure, "but your mind is soothed now, and you're not as rageful as you were."
"That's my point." Peter whispered. "What if- what if that's all? What if Narnia has helped us grow as much as it could, as much as we needed to? What if, with the fifteen years we spent in the Golden Age, and the last week or two this time- that was the time we had to spend here, to learn to live in the world we were born?"
"Peter, no." With each word he spoke, her heart felt like it was being coated in ice. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she took a deep breath. "Please don't say that. Not to me, at least."
"Why not to you, Su-"
"Because I think you're right."
Whatever Peter had been thinking, was immediately pushed out of his mind.
He didn't think Susan had ever said those words to him.
"Excuse me?"
"I think you're right." She repeated, looking down at the floor. "It's- ever since we came back from the raid, it feels like it's the ending. It feels like any moment could be the last here, and any word farewell. I know there's no rationality to it, no logic-" she shook her head, and lifted it up again, to look at her brother's stormy eyes, "but it's what I've been feeling."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I was happy, too. I know things were shit, and we were suddenly in the midst of battle, but we were in Narnia, fighting for our people. It was what all four of us have wanted for the past year and a half. And I thought- I hoped-" her voice trembled, "I hoped the feeling was just that- a mere feeling."
There was silence for a few minutes, as both mulled over what they'd spoken of.
"Would it be utterly immature," Peter spoke slowly, after six minutes of quiet, "if I said we should just ignore and repress this feeling and paranoia, and instead of dealing with it, we make the most of however long we remain here? Stay as happy as we can, with what we love? No point sitting and drowning in misery, waiting for the ball to drop."
A smile began to rise on Susan's face, "That might not be the healthiest option, but it's certainly the way forward that seems the most appealing. We'll enjoy the time we do have."
"Exactly." Peter nodded, bending down and kissing her cheek. "Well, I shall probably be off to find Caspian. You should dance."
Susan's smile withered, "I- I don't want to."
"Of course you do." He said, linking his arm with hers, and walking away from the corner. It was a nice little spot, very agreeable for hiding in. "You enjoy dancing at Balls, especially ones you haven't had to plan with your blood, sweat and tears."
"I don't feel like it."
"Why? No acceptable partner?" Peter laughed, and gestured to the expanse of the crowded ballroom with his other arm. "There are so many people here, I'd go dizzy counting them all. I'm sure there's at least one man who is up to your standards-"
Quite impulsively, and without much care of thought, Susan replied, "I don't want to dance with a man."
But Peter didn't seem to understand.
"These are Lords, Susan, not the townsfolk- there might even be a faraway Prince-"
"Peter." Susan's tone was such that the Magnificent stopped dead, and what he'd been about to say disappeared into the wind. "I don't want to dance with a man- any man, whether he's a Duke or a carpenter."
He kept looking at her, and she knew she had to spell it out for him.
But, strangely, she felt no anxiety for what she was about to say, but just calm. She would tell her truth to her big brother. She knew her big brother, he would never hate her.
"I don't like men." She said, voice low but clear. "I know I had dalliances with some, but- I don't. I realised quite late- in the last years of the Golden Age. And I had a lover, then, too- her name was Tritonia, and I loved- love her." Yet again, tears stung at her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. "We were gone, out of Narnia, before I realised- I just realised recently- and I never told her how I felt. You're the second person I'm telling, and the first to tell whilst sober-" she had confessed to Aura- Aura, her friend, another person she would never see again, "but I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to tell anyone else."
He tilted, "You're- a lesbian?"
Now it was Susan's turn to be confused.
"What's that?"
"It's- well, it's a female homosexual. A gay woman- a girl, who only likes girls." It was not often he knew something, and Susan did not. "Some- some boys in my class- they would make bets. Usually about who in our class was a fag- but sometimes, it was to try to tell which of the Finbar girls were lesbians. I don't know if that was because the concept was sensual to them, or because it disgusted them."
"I've never heard of it." Fag, she had heard, regrettably, and once aimed towards her younger brother- but never a lesbian. "I know friend of Dorothy, but not- not a lesbian."
But it seemed to fit, she thought. A girl who only liked girls. That was what she was.
"Yes." She nodded quickly, before her serene bravado could pass. "I am. I'm a lesbian."
Peter smiled- Susan was smiling, too, though she didn't seem aware of it.
"I'm honoured to be the second to know of this wonderful knowledge, sister. There are several stunning women in the room, by the way, I'm sure the moment you bat your lashes, they'll be begging for a dance." Then his smile grew wider. "You'll always need me, this means. If only to always need me to sweep the spider webs from the ceiling, then, you and your wife won't be tall enough."
"There are plenty of tall women." Susan smacked the side of his head, but joy suffused her from the inside. Peter had not hated her, had not walked away- he found it wonderful, and then he'd made a joke about her hypothetical wife.
Her wife.
Sure, it would never happen, for marriage among- among homosexuals was not legal, but she could dream.
"I am one, myself."
"Ha. There's still about four or five inches between us." Then he frowned. "Or, well, there will be, once we're sure to have stopped growing. Oh, what is it?" He added, sounding exasperated, seeing a strange look come over Susan's face.
"What is the word for you?" Susan queried, plain curiosity in her eyes. "I'm a lesbian- then what are you?"
"I don't think they have a word yet." It didn't worry him, because he had enough worries. "I'm not homosexual, since I do like women, as well- but there's no word. Not for me, or for Edmund, or for Sanya- or even Lucy, considering her thankful aversion to romance and sex. She'll be a child forever, and that is a great soothe to my mind."
"Lu's going to grow up someday, Peter." Susan had told him this several times during their reign as well, but he'd always walked away without saying anything. "She'll stay uninterested in all that, but she won't be a child forever. She'll grow up."
"No." Peter said, and stalked off to find Caspian.
He'd said something, for once- but apart from that, it appeared some things never changed, Susan thought with a small chuckle.
She ran her gaze around the room- there were several women, as beautiful as anything in the world- and she wondered if Peter was right again. Would they say yes, if she asked anyone?
Of course, it would just be a dance, nothing more, because of Tritonia- but it'd be the first time she would be expressing her thus-far innate sexuality.
Would her bravado extend to that much?
Caspian's eyes widened, and Peter scowled at him.
"What?" The Magnificent asked impatiently. He had been recalling quite emotionally about how he had received his first knighthood, but his- but Caspian's attention had wavered. It had taken ages for Peter to extricate the new King from talking with his siblings and sister-in-law, yet now he was staring at his sister! "What?"
"Queen Susan." He said, nodding to the dance floor of the ballroom, where several pairs moved about, lost in the music that came from the (non-cockatoo) band playing in the corner of the room. "She's dancing with Lady Esmeira."
Peter looked, and then grinned hugely. Susan and her partner, an attractive woman with curly dark hair, weren't in the centre, but the fact that his sister had braved her insecurity enough to dance at all, was incredibly commendable.
"What's the problem with that?"
Cas had been snogging him for most of the past couple of days. He could not possibly have had anything against two women dancing.
"Well." Caspian looked uncomfortable. "There are rumours she poisoned her husband."
"Sorry?"
"Yes- he was found dead in his mansion, while she was out on a picnic with her sister." Then Caspian bit his lip. "It was never proven, though. He was quite old, almost eighty."
"What? But the Lady looks hardly twenty."
"She's his fifth wife. He bought her from her parents when she was twelve." Caspian told him, and Peter's jaw clenched so hard, the Telmarine was sure he'd chipped several teeth. "There was no trial against her, because- honestly, because everyone thought he deserved it. Even Miraz, not exactly a paragon of humanity, thought Esmeira's husband vile."
"I see." He doubted the Lady would poison Susan- besides, her husband had clearly deserved it. "They look like they're enjoying the dance. I don't see Ed and Sanya dancing, do you?"
"No, I don't." Caspian didn't care much for dancing- he didn't mind it, but he didn't exactly seek after opportunities to dance. "I don't think she's well enough to dance."
"I suppose." Peter nodded, and then turned his head slightly, to be able to look at Caspian. He looked wonderful- his hair was combed and falling in ebony waves till his neck, the brown-patterned-with gold tunic bright against his tan skin, and genuine joy was apparent all over him.
Did Peter love him? Could he have fallen in love, in such little time?
Well, he didn't know the answer to that. But he knew that, when he'd told Susan about making the most of their time here, he'd had Caspian in mind- holding hands with Caspian, seeing his smile, kissing Caspian, sparring with him- simply being with Caspian.
Perhaps fighting and fucking him.
"Come on."
As was often the case, Caspian looked confused.
"Come on where?" He couldn't very well leave the Ball, it was for him. But if Peter asked- he didn't know if he could refuse.
That probably wasn't a good thing- but he didn't want to tell him no. For anything, if he was being honest about it.
He knew why Edmund was always all too keen to listen to whatever Sanya asked of him. He loved her.
But did he love Peter?
Peter jerked his head towards the dance floor.
"There." Alright, he wasn't the best dancer. But he wanted to dance with Caspian- make the most of it. Besides, if his dancing turned out to be too abhorrent, they could always retire to some balcony and occupy their time by kissing. "Come along."
"Are you asking me to dance?"
"Well, I'm not asking you to sing."
"Er." Caspian didn't know what to say. What if he accidentally blurted out something he didn't mean in the middle of the dance? He had the stupidest paranoia that Peter would behead him if he did or said anything idiotic- though he knew he wouldn't. Probably. "Alright. I would love to dance."
"Brilliant." Peter beamed, and held out his hand. "It'll be better than throwing blades with you in front of everyone, I think."
"I mean," Caspian shrugged, taking his hand and they walked ahead, "everyone shows their affection in different ways. Some ways are just more violent than others."
Peter laughed, and Caspian knew.
He was in love.
-
Eiza González and Alba Galocha as Lady Esmeira
(Eiza’s face and hair, Alba’s headpiece and outfits)
-
-✧･: °*✧*°:･✧-
-
Sanya Reza-Pevensie on the Night of the Coronation Ball
-
Lucy Pevensie on the Night of the Coronation Ball
-
Susan Pevensie on the Night of the Coronation Ball
-
Edmund and Sanya Reza-Pevensie on the Night of the Coronation Ball
-
DEFINITELY a deleted scene, ft. Edmund and Sanya Reza-Pevensie, with Peter Pevensie and Caspian X
--
I fucking love making those manips?????
Edmanya are literally so smol and so in love, I swear 😭 THEY DESERVE THIS
And the dress ones- ESPECIALLY Sanya's- turned out astoundingly well.
Literally every single Caspeter scene has me 🥺^∞. It's literally insane. CASPIAN IS IN LOVE WITH PETER. PETER IS RISKING DANCING FOR CASPIAN. NEED I SAY OTP??????
In lieu of Peter and Susan's conversation- I say we go along with what they said. Enjoy the time they have left, and not worry about the awfulness that may come after.
(if the Pevensie leave- what about Sanya? What will happen to 'not again. never again.'?)
AND SUSAN CAME OUT TO PETER! AND SHE DANCED IN PUBLIC WITH ANOTHER WOMAN!!!!!
I AM SO PROUD OF HER 🤧
I don’t know why, but I really, really love this chapter. Maybe because it has such ‘Alliance’ vibes???? Because it’s finally a step back to normality and shit? Or because Caspian realises he’s in love with Peter?? Perhaps just because Ed says ‘hey, beautiful’ to Sanya?
I don’t know, but I really do love it.
Next chapter is the longest chapter of the whole book. It’s over 8K words.
I can’t believe there are only two chapters after this...
And, as always- I humbly and unashamedly ask you to vote on the chapters, and perhaps comment, too :)