IMIRA
The day after the tourney I had a lot of things to do, meaning I was lucky enough to have a good reason to avoid a certain Calormen Prince. With all the negotiations and battle preparations before the war, my absence would be understandable if not expected. Besides, I was feeling a little indisposed, so it was the perfect opportunity to stay in and avoid crowds.
I spend all morning coming and going between rooms. Meetings I need to attend, letters that I need to write, a few unofficial notices and summons to write and deliver, a stock revision I need to order, a detailed inventory of the armoury that I have to requisition, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I am just glad Peter's taking care of the twins today.
It is not until after until lunch that I get a moment to myself, and even then, I receive a visitor.
"Henry, twice in the same day," I stand up to greet my friend, who bows upon entering. "I did not expect to see you again until the ball,"
"I see Your Majesty is still avoiding Prince Rabadash," he replies with a small smirk.
"Am I being terribly obvious?" I ask, not very concerned if I am.
"Just a tad," he lets out a small laugh.
"Can you blame me?"
"Not really,"
"Please, take a seat," I gesture towards one of the empty chairs in my small round lunch table. "Are you hungry?"
"I've just eaten, thanks,"
"So, what brings you back here?" I ask.
"I received the notice," He produces the letter I wrote to him this morning from his coat and places it on the table. "And the summon," he takes it out as well and puts it next to the first.
"That's efficient," I wrote them both less than six hours ago. "I do hope you're not here in an attempt to evade your duties," I joke.
He scoffs, slightly offended. "I've just given the order to arm my men to join you and the King North,"
"You're fast," I nod approvingly. "But I suspect you did not just stop by to inform me of your efficiency,"
"I did not," he shifts on his seat.
"So, what is it?" I ask. "A personal matter or one of state?"
"Personal," he says and places the letters back on his pocket.
"Very well," He hasn't bothered me with a personal matter in years. "So what is it that bothers you this very fine day?"
"It is bothering my wife mostly," he admits. Ah, so he's here on her behalf.
"If she is worried about you going north, I am afraid there isn't much I can do to help," I say, guessing that is the reason she has sent him here.
"It is not me who she's concerned for," he shakes his head.
"Then who-" I realize the silliness of my question before I have time to finish uttering it. The answer is rather obvious. "Becc,"
"Precisely,"
"Ah," This is uncomfortable. "Well, I am afraid there isn't much I can do there either," I say, eating the last spoonful of soup. "He is eighteen and training to become a knight. His presence is expected, his absence would be questioned,"
"Yes, we understand that," He says calmly, "But he is training under Lord Peridan and Lord Peridan is going South with King Edmund and Queen Susan, so we figured-"
"That he'd be going south as well. No. I am afraid he is expected to go North. As the summon clearly states,"
He looks like he wants to argue, but thankfully, he does not.
"I understand," he says, clearly holding himself back. "I keep telling Phoebe not to worry, that I'll look after him, but, you know her, she worries,"
"I know but, and I understand, but I am afraid he has to go," I say with my best apologetical look.
If I start making exceptions for every worried mother's son, we'll be reduced to an army of two.
"I understand," he repeats. "But she is right outside and, I am sorry, but she would never forgive me if I did not at least get her the opportunity to speak with you. If you could spare a few minutes for an audience..."
"Of course. Tell her to come in," I fake a smile and sigh heavily when he turns to get her. I must keep my feelings separate from politics. Phoebe and Henry are friends but I can't start making exceptions for friends. It wouldn't be right and it would be far too obvious.
Oh, but I do owe them so many favours. I hate being put in this position. There must be something I can do. There has to be something.
Phoebe walks in after Henry wearing a gorgeous lime green dress I had not seen before and the maid who announced Henry announces her.
"Lady Stryder,"
"Phoebe," I try to smile when I see her, but her heavily concerned look does not make it easy. She looks like she might start crying if I refuse her.
"Your Majesty," she curtsies gracefully.
"Take a seat, please," I gesture towards the empty chair directly in front of me. "Henry tells me you have some... concerns regarding your eldest,"
"I do, I... He is too young to go to war," She takes the chair infant of mine and Henry takes the one beside her.
Oh, she is stabbing me with her words. And that tear in the corner of her eye...
"He is older than the Kings were in their first battle," I point out. An argument the twins use against me all the time whenever they want to do something I do not think appropriate. The flaws in that argument are easy to point out. There are many, but the main one is the fact that they both nearly died in that first battle.
"But he has no experience. He is not even a knight," Phoebe continues her plea.
"I'm afraid that does not disqualify him from serving," I reach over the table and take her hand, trying to be as nice and comforting as I can, but it is difficult not to sound insensitive when telling a mother her son is going to war and I am unable if not unwilling to stop that from happening. This is precisely why calls to arms and official summons are delivered through letters and not in person. There are feelings and good reasons and sons and mothers and tears...
"We understand," Henry says and stands up. "I'll look after Becc, he'll be fine," he tells Phoebe. "We've wasted the Queen's time enough," he tries to get her to leave, but she brushes his hand away.
"Perhaps if we made another sort of contribution," Phoebe suggests, slightly leaning forward. "Half a dozen soldiers to serve in his place would make up for his absence, I'd say,"
Wow. I did not know Lady Stryder had it in her to be corrupt. Huh, good to know, I'll have to keep that in mind. Although it should not surprise me too much, she has bent the law to its extremes before. Like when she looked the other way when her husband kidnapped my cousin. Yes, now that I think of it, it shouldn't be surprising she'd be this desperate in her attempt to keep her eldest son away from danger. Especially considering how his father died. There must be a way, other than corruption, to keep young Becc Stowes alive. But how? I cannot do as I did with my sons and have him go merely to watch.
I remove my hand from hers.
"As enticing as that offer is, you do not have half a dozen more soldiers at your disposal," I point out. "If you did, they would have been requisitioned in the summon you received,"
"Perhaps not, but soldiers can be bought,"
Henry clears his throat uncomfortably.
"I am afraid I am going to have to say no to the mercenaries," I reply. They are not very trustworthy.
"Then something else. Horses, food, gold. We will give anything, just please, you cannot send Becc to war. He is too young," she pleads desperately.
"I understand your concern. I do not want to send my sons North either, but sometimes we must all do things we do not necessarily like or agree with. Besides, think of it. How would it look if the ten-year-old Princes went to war but your soon-to-be-knighted eighteen-year-old son stays behind?"
"They are?" Henry asks, confused.
"I am afraid so. High King Peter's wishes," I reply.
"Please, I cannot lose him too," Phoebe pleads. "There must be something you can do,"
I sigh. She's right. There has to be something I can do. She and Henry have done me so many favours, there must be a way to keep her son alive.
So the thing is keeping Becc alive... How to keep Becc alive... Well, there is no guaranteeing his safety during a fight, but there may be something I can do about him fighting.
It takes us a whiles lot of random ideas are thrown about, but I finally figure it out.
"I may not be able to stop your son from going, but there may be something I can do about him fighting," I stop pacing. "If I were to appoint him to guard the Princes for the duration of the war, that would keep him out of the fighting,"
"Yes. He can do that. He takes care of his siblings all the time," Phoebe agrees instantly.
"He would still be going," I point out, "but he wouldn't be participating in the battles. At least not directly,"
"That would be perfect. He can do that. He will do that. You can trust him with that. Oh, thank you, thank you," she gets up with tears in her eyes and throws her arms around me.
"Oh," I hug her back and Henry mouths an apology.
"I'm sorry there's nothing else I can do," I say as I let her go.
"I don't think it can get any better than that," Henry comments, peeling the crying Phoebe off me.
"Thank you. Thank you so much," she repeats, wiping away happy tears.
I smile at her and squeeze her hand. "Let's just keep this between us, alright. I will inform Becc of his new position at the muster. For now, it must remain a secret," Otherwise I am going to have a line of weeping mothers outside my door asking for special treatment for their sons.
I stand outside the privy council chamber waiting for Peter to come out. I could go in but I don't like to interrupt. He is the first one out and when he spots me, he smiles and comes up to kiss me.
"You look happy,"
"I am happy," I say and take his arm. "I have finished everything I had to do for the day and today is the last evening we have to endure Prince Rabadash's cheesy verses and uncalled for comments on what women should and should not do," Those last ones really get my blood boiling. "Oh, and I have found the ideal candidate to look after the twins when we go North,"
"About that," he stops walking.
"What?" I stop as well. "Did something happen Did the giants attack again? Do we have to leave sooner?"
"What? No. Everything is fine,"
"Then what was that oh for?"
"Slight change of plans. I was with Susan earlier, informing the twins of her travels and, I was about to inform them they would be accompanying us North when they reminded us we had agreed to them going to Anvard to visit, play with and, no doubt, cause trouble with Prince Corin,"
I gasp.
"That's right, we did agree to that. About a month ago. Oh, I had completely forgotten about it,"
"Me too,"
"And what did you tell them?"
PETER
A few hours earlier
"But if Aunt Susan is going to Calormen and you and mother go North, who will take us to Archenland?" William asks, interrupting me before I get a chance to say they are to accompany their mother and me to the north.
"Archenland?" I ask. What is he talking about?
"Prince Corin invited us..." Edward says. "You and mother agreed..." Will explains. "Mother and aunt Susan said they'd take us..."
That's right! Oh, bugger, I forgot. Why didn't anyone remind me of this earlier?
"Oh, that's right. Boys, we are so sorry," Susan apologizes on our behalf, "but with everything going on I fear it may not be possible,"
"But you said we could go," Edward complains, pouting.
"And you said you'd take us," William says to Susan, rather accusingly.
"I am certain King Lune and Prince Corin will understand," Susan places a hand on their cheeks.
"We'll take you to Archenland in a few months," I add. "As soon as the war is over,"
"A few months?" "But you said we could go after Prince Rabadash's visit,"
They start arguing with me why this is "not fair" and how "we promised them" they could go, blah blah blah. How does Imira deal with the two of them, they're giving me a headache.
"Alright, alright," Susan intervenes seeing how upset and loud the twins are getting "How about Edmund and I drop you off on our way to Calormen?" she proposes. "If your parents agree, of course," she turns to look at me.
"Oh, please, father," "Can we?" "Can we?" The twins plead, jumping up and down and pulling at my sleeves. "We'll behave," "We won't fight," "We'll be good," "We won't ask for anything else in an entire month," "We won't break any more windows playing ball," "We will even eat those nasty sprouts mother insists we eat," "No we won't," "Shh, don't tell him that," "We'll eat them," "Please," "Please," "Please,"
Seriously, how does Imira do this?
Oh, but she's right, they are just boys. Little boys who want to play, not go to war. I can't make them go north with us now.
It is decided then, they will go to Archenland. Yes, this is the best thing for everyone.
"If you don't cause too much trouble," I begin.
"We won't," "We really won't,"
"And if you do everything your uncle Edmund and your aunt Susan say,"
"We will," they say at the same time.
"And if you do not break anything at Anvard," I add, seriously. Last time they broke a suit of armour.
"We won't," We promise,"
"Then you can go,"
"Yes!"
Good luck King Lune.
IMIRA
"I told them they could go to Archenland," Peter says, "You were right, they are just children,"
"Oh, you did?" I sigh with relief and throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. "They will be much safer in Archenland and have a much better time,"
"They were so excited about it I didn't think taking them with us was the right thing to do," he says, placing a hand around my waist.
"I could not agree more," I smile, relieved.
"So, who were you going to appoint to guard them?" Peter asks.
"Becc Stowes,"
"Lady Phoebe's son?"
"The one and only,"
"But he's Lord Peridan's squire and Peridan is going with Sue and Ed,"
"Yes, but he won't be needing a squire during a diplomatic mission. And besides, he is due to be knighted pretty soon. I'd say it is a good time for Peridan to start looking for another squire. This way I'd feel more comfortable sending the twins alone to Archenland,"
"If it makes you feel better about leaving the boys alone,"
"It does,"
"Then so be it," he takes my hand in his. "But you break the news to Peridan and the Stowes boy,"
"I shall do it at the ball. I'm sure he won't mind too much,"
He nods.
"Speaking of the ball," he stops walking, "I ought to go change,"
"And I ought to make sure the twins get cleaned up. It wouldn't surprise me to find mud on their shoes or dirt on their hems,"
He chuckles. "Don't be late,"
The last ball with Prince Rabadash. Three cheers for that!
"Have you told Lord Peridan yet?" Peter asks me as we begin dancing the first song.
"Not yet. Why?"
"He seems rather cranky," Peter comments.
"You think so?" I wait until I spin to look discretely for him and spot him glaring from the other side of the room at Prince Rabadash. Again.
I try to stiffen a laugh but fail.
"What's so funny?" Peter asks.
"He's not cranky, he's jealous,"
"Jealous? Of what?"
"Not what but who,"
He rolls his eyes at me, still not understanding. "Jealous of who?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"If it were, I wouldn't be asking,"
"Of the Prince," I say, glancing discreetly at Rabadash, who dances with Susan.
Peter frowns. "Peridan wants to be a Prince?"
"No, silly," I laugh again. "He wants to be with Susan,"
"You mean dance with her,"
"Amongst other things," I say, still laughing.
"Where do you even come up with these ideas?" He asks, shaking his head and laughing at the thought.
"Don't believe me, but I think he fancies her,"
"Him. Fancying Sue," he laughs more. "Don't you think he would have said something all of these years if he did?"
"One would hope so. But compared to the Kings and Princes who have and are pursuing your sister, you would see why he might be a little reluctant if not intimidated to share his feelings,"
"And are these all assumptions on your part, or has he said something to you?"
"Assumptions mainly. But I am observant. And I pay attention. The other night after you left, for instance, I caught him glaring at the Prince as well. I tried to talk to him about it, find out if he does indeed fancy Sue as I suspect, but he wouldn't say,"
"Well, I've never witnessed him say or do anything that might indicate you're right," Peter says.
"Clearly he has been discreet,"
"Until now?" Peter questions, clearly not sharing my belief.
"It is merely a theory,"
"Well, whether he does or does not have any feelings for my sister, that is none of our concern,"
"I hear you, but–"
"Imira,"
"Just listen. Now, you did not hear this from me," I whisper very quietly, "but many years ago Susan told me that she fancied him,"
"Lord Peridan?" He looks for him in the crowd.
"Mhm. Quite a lot,"
"Then why did she never say anything?" Peter asks.
"Because it is he who has to tell her," Is he clueless or does he like to pretend with me sometimes?
"I know that. I mean, why didn't she tell us?"
I shrug. "She told me," I point out.
"But not me,"
"It is not exactly the sort of conversation one likes to have with a brother,"
He nods in silent agreement, conceding the point.
"She made me swear I would never tell anyone, so-"
"I won't mention it,"
The song ends and everyone else, for the first dance is reserved for royalty only (old tradition), floods the dance floor.
"Do you think she still fancies him?" He asks in the middle of the second song.
"Who?" I ask. What are we talking about now?
"Peridan, who else?" Peter whispers.
Oh, we're still on about that.
"How should I know, it's been years. I would hope not if she is considering marrying Rabadash. It was old gossip, she has probably gotten over her infatuation,"
He hums and then it's silence again.
"Do you think she'd be happy in Calormen?"
"I do not see how anyone could be happy in Calormen, I hear it's awfully hot and the people are–"
He gives me a look that deters me from any further badmouthing of the south.
"Maybe. I mean, it looks like she likes him just fine," I glance in their direction. "Would you be alright with that?"
"All I care about is her happiness. And if this Rabadash makes her happy, then..."
I have enough things to worry about so I let the Lord Peridan mystery go, focusing on enjoying what will most likely be the last ball before the war and informing Lord Peridan and Becc Stowes on the latest developments.
Lord Peridan does not protest, for he is too busy glaring at Prince Rabadash and pointing out his flaws to me, which only serves to confirm my suspicions even more, though, granted, it may be the Datramite in him who's speaking, and Becc Stowes seems somewhat relieved when I give him the news he will be going to Archenland.
Having fulfilled my two duties of the night, I allow myself to indulge in some very moderate drinking and lots of dancing.
Moderation is my new friend, for nothing is worse than waking up to a sore throat, a lousy headache, and a pile of regrets.
"Imira, wake up," Peter throws a pillow at my face. I can hear the smile in his voice. How can he be so happy at this hour? I love him, but it is so annoying when he's so cheerful at this hour.
"' Tis too early and you're far too cheerful," I reply with a grunt and throw the pillow back at him.
"The Calormenes leaves after breakfast,"
Well, this changes everything. I had completely forgotten about that.
I stretch out my arms, moaning in pleasure, and sit up gracefully.
"Fancy some breakfast?"
I cannot wait to be rid of Prince Rabadash. Between his boring "wise" verses, that ridiculous goat-like beard of his, and his antiquated ideas of what women should and should not be allowed to do, I do not know what I'll miss less. Probably his "wise" verses. When I want a quote form one of the poets, I'll ask for one, thank you very much. I mean, sure, he has his virtues. He is an excellent storyteller (his stories of southern wars were very entertaining), a skilled fighter (armour cheat or not), and a surprisingly good pan flute player (he played a rather charming song for Susan the other day), and he is wealthy, powerful and not bad to look at, but, I don't know, something about him makes me feel not quite at ease.
His goodbye to Susan is not particularly long, but he holds her to her word on going to Calormen.
We wish him a safe trip and for once I do not need to use my diplomatic smile with him for I am genuinely pleased to see him leave.
"Gone at last," I whisper to Peter as the last of the Calormens disappears down the road. Everyone else from the farewell party has left by now.
"Subtle," he chuckles.
"So where to now?" I ask as we turn our backs to the road and heads toward the castle.
"Negotiations for war and then, hopefully, to send out the call to arms and the official summons,"
A few days later...
"I think it's a good idea,"
"I don't,"
"If King Lune is allowing Prince Corin to go, I think we should let the twins go as well,"
"I do not trust the Calormen,"
"But you trust Edmund and Susan, don't you?"
"Of course I trust them, just not the place they are headed to and the people who live in it,"
"You know, this old Datramite-Calormen rivalry is getting pretty old,"
"They tried to invade us,"
"Half a millennia ago!"
"Well, we do not forgive easily and we do not forget,"
"They haven't done anything since then,"
"Because we haven't given them the chance," I retort.
"They've never done anything to us," he counters. "Don't be so judgmental," Peter sighs.
I throw him a questioning look.
"Me? Judgmental?"
"You can be very snobbish sometimes," he explains.
"Pardon," I'm a snob now?
"Oh, don't act surprised," he rolls his eyes at me. "You know you can be a pain sometimes," he says hugging me from behind.
Affection and an insult. He's good at balancing things out.
"Oh, so now I'm a pain," I say, amused but irritated as I turn around, still with his arms around me.
"When it comes to the Calormen, you can be a bit supercilious and you know it," he says, holding me by the waist.
He may be correct, but that doesn't mean I have to admit it.
"I'm not supercilious, I'm just..." Alright, maybe I am.
"Haughty? Arrogant? Disdainful? Toffee-nosed? Impudent?" He tightens his grip on me, pulling me closer. Ugh, can be a prick sometimes.
"Are you going to recite the entire dictionary?" I huff.
"Hoity-toity, proud, prejudiced..." He continues, holding back a laugh.
Okay, now he's just making fun of me.
Well, two can play this game.
"Hoity-toity your behind," I reply, instantly laughing at the ridiculousness of the sentence I've just uttered.
He breaks into laughter as well and releases me from his suffocating embrace.
"So is that a yes?" He asks, smiling as his arms slide around me once more.
"If something goes wrong I will hold you personally responsible for it," I place a hand on his chest.
"They'll be fine. They'll be with Edmund and Susan, what can go wrong?"