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The Lion, the Snake, and the Safe Room
Chapter 4: Presentation
By Anne B. Walsh
Draco hung back as the group reached the top of the stairs. He’d thought Kings and Queens would be more... royal. Queen Caelin, in the one glance he’d had of her, had been screaming like a fishwife, and King Gilles was behaving as though he were their much older brother, or perhaps an uncle. After being introduced to them all, he had asked them to accompany him back up to the palace, “so that my beloved may leave my eyes where they lie, and the rest of my body as well.” Potter had snickered, while Granger uttered a faint squeak.
“Harry, if you would get the door?” Gilles asked, adjusting Freeman, who was riding piggyback on him.
Potter pulled open the door and held it. “Oh my beloved and oh the delight of my eyes,” droned Gilles, walking forward into a billow of steam. “I have returned from my travels, and I bring wondrous tidings—yow!”
“Don’t you bring that Calormene nonsense in here!” admonished a testy female voice from inside the steam, as Gilles shook his right hand furiously and made outrageous faces. “It may be your palace, but this is my kitchen, as long as I can stand on my own two feet and keep it running, and in twenty-seven years I haven’t failed once!”
“Abra, that hurt,” Gilles whined, letting Freeman slide to the floor. “I was only having fun.”
“Only having fun indeed. And who might these be?”
“Our new young royalty,” said Gilles, waving them forward through the door, which Potter let swing shut behind them. “Prince Harry, Princess Hermione, Prince Draco, Princess Meghan.”
Some of the steam cleared away, and Granger and Freeman both gasped. Draco could appreciate the feeling.
The woman facing them was plump and red-haired, with a wooden spoon sticking out of the pocket of her embroidered apron. She was also short. Her head was only a bit higher than Potter’s waist, and Potter was nowhere near tall.
A Dwarf, he recalled from the Wizard’s lessoning. A Red Dwarf. Oren mentioned a family he knew whose mum worked at the palace, and I’d bet she’s it. The dryad had said goodbye to them outside and started back for his own tree near Lantern Waste. He said he’d see us soon, but trees live loads longer than humans, so soon for him could be anything. Wish I knew.
He frowned. Was he actually unhappy that the dryad had left them?
Nah. Can’t be. He was just familiar, and everything here is so weird that I stick to anything even a little familiar.
That had to be it.
“Well, you can’t meet Ardan and Ilana looking like that,” the Red Dwarf woman said, shaking her head. “It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Oh, Abra, why worry about proper?” Gilles said pleadingly. “They’ll have all their lives to worry about proper. Don’t you think Ardan and Ilana might like to see them first, and then have them cleaned up?”
“Worry about your own business, Gilles, and I’ll worry about mine. Go and get yourself cleaned up. Afternoon Court is just after luncheon.”
“To Jadis with Afternoon—ouch!”
“You watch your language, Gilles Norois,” Abra said threateningly, waving the wooden spoon as close to his nose as she could manage (the middle of his chest), “or it’s not just your knuckles I’ll be rapping!”
“Yes, Abra,” said Gilles meekly. “Do you know where Caelin might be?”
“In your rooms, I don’t doubt, and I’d tread carefully if I were you. She’s never been a good hand at baking, and this was the first batch of smallcakes she’d managed that weren’t missing something. For you to distract her long enough for the entire batch to burn...” Abra shook her head. “All I can say is, it’s a good thing these four have come when they have, for we may not have a full set of royalty much longer.”
Gilles gulped theatrically. “In that case, I go to face my doom. Farewell, my friends, you have been brave company for a nobleman’s last hours. Farewell, farewell...” He clasped all their hands, kissing the girls’ foreheads and clapping Potter and Draco on the shoulder, and then strode off through an inner door.
Freeman giggled. “He’s silly,” she said. “I like him.”
“Silly he is,” said Abra. “And witless, and scatterbrained. And still a kind man, and a just king, if you can bring his mind to bear on the task at hand long enough. Now, then.” She surveyed them all. “You’d probably be glad of a bath and fresh clothes, would you not?”
“Oh, yes,” said Granger feelingly as Potter nodded.
“Please,” Freeman said.
“Fine by me,” Draco said nonchalantly. In truth, he was itching to get out of his robes. He’d never worn a set two days in a row, let alone three, and he would be willing to swear that he could take quill and parchment and reproduce every place on the inside of the robes where the seams weren’t quite finished or the fabric had frayed. And a bath sounded like heaven. The closest thing they’d had on the trip was the water fight in the Silver Spring, and he didn’t want to think too much about that right now...
Besides, the bath would give him a much-needed chance to fix his hair. He hadn’t been able to do much with it on the journey, because Granger and Freeman would start giggling every time he did, and Potter would give him a disdainful look.
Just because yours always looks as if you’d only just escaped a train wreck is no reason mine should.
“I’ll have you shown to your rooms, then,” Abra said, and turned away. “Kargin!” she shouted towards the inner door. “Garnet!”
“Yes?” reverberated back along the corridor, in two voices, high and low.
“Come here!”
“Coming,” came the chorus, and a moment later, a Red Dwarf boy and girl came running into the room. They were dressed alike, in what looked like some kind of livery.
“Kargin, show Prince Harry and Prince Draco their rooms,” Abra instructed the boy. “Help them bathe and dress, and fetch them something to eat. Garnet, Princess Hermione and Princess Meghan. They’re to be presented at Afternoon Court.”
The boy sketched a bow and the girl bobbed a curtsey. “If the Princesses would follow me,” she said, starting for the door. “And please, which of you is which?”
“I’m Hermione,” Granger said. “This is Meghan.”
“Pleased to meet Your Highnesses.”
“This way, please,” said the Dwarf boy in a rather sullen tone. Abra cleared her throat, and he added grudgingly, “Your Highnesses.”
Potter edged up beside their guide as they left the kitchen. “You don’t have to bother with the Highness stuff unless we’re in front of someone who’ll mind,” he said. “I’m Harry. That’s Draco. You’re... Kargin?”
“Yes.” The Dwarf was about to say something else, but Draco cut in.
“Actually, Kargin, you’re to use my title. Any time you speak to me, public or private. Understand?” Honestly, Potter, don’t you know anything? Look at that Abra person—they gave her some leeway, and now she thinks she runs the place! You have to be hard on the lower sorts, or they get uppity.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Kargin said promptly.
Well, that’s more like it.
Three seconds later, the tone the Dwarf had used sank in.
Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be. Well, you’ll learn fast enough, shorty. I don’t stand for cheek from servants. Wonder what you’re allowed to do around here for punishments?
“What’s this presentation thing?” Harry asked Kargin, leaning down a bit to direct his voice.
“Not much. You dress up, have your name announced, go down on one knee, get the High King’s blessing, and leave. At least that’s how mine went.” The Dwarf’s tone acquired a tinge of envy. “It might be different for you, being a Prince and all.”
“Hold it,” Harry said. “I never asked to be a Prince. It just sort of happened. And if you want to know the truth, if somebody offered me a way home right now, I’d probably take it.”
Kargin looked up at him in amazement. “You mean—you don’t want to be a king?”
Harry shrugged. “I never thought about it before. We don’t have kings where I come from—well, we have a queen, but she’s really just a figurehead, she doesn’t do much.”
“How does it work, then?”
Explaining the parliamentary system of government, and the altered form the magical world used, took up the rest of the walk to their rooms, and Harry had to shout answers to Kargin’s bellowed questions over the roar of the water pouring from the palace cisterns to fill the two tubs in the bathroom. Malfoy sat on one of the beds in the bedroom, looking distant and lofty.
Practicing for his coronation, I suppose.
“Soap and towels in the small cabinet,” Kargin said as Harry shut off the water to the second tub. “Do you think His Highness out there will be able to manage bathing himself?”
“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.”
“I’ll be back with luncheon in a little while, then,” Kargin said, making for the door. “Don’t drown. Mum would never forgive me.”
“Mum?”
“Abra’s my mum. There’s seven of us all together, and Garnet and I are the youngest. She’s a year younger than me.”
“How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
Harry stopped in the process of pulling off the shirt he’d worn under his robes. “Huh. I’m going on fifteen. And I think Malfoy’s there already.”
“Oh, Great Aslan, no,” Kargin moaned. “If he’s older than you...”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry, if they start talking about making him High King...” Harry stopped. “Why are we worried?” he said. “They’ll realize he’s no good as soon as he opens his ugly mouth. Not that I’ll be much better, but at least I’m not a total git. I hope.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. I’ll be back when you’re finished, Your Highness.” Kargin ducked out the door, laughing, as Harry backhanded water towards him.
“There you are,” said Malfoy’s voice from the bedroom. “What kept you?”
“I was talking with Harry, Your Highness.” Harry chuckled at the outright rudeness in Kargin’s voice. “Your Highness’ bath is ready, if it please Your Highness to step into Your Highness’ bathroom.”
“Just a second, there,” Malfoy said lazily. “Don’t you run off.” The sound of someone standing up. “We need to get a few things clear, you hairy little freak. I don’t like your attitude, and I don’t like your tone. I’ll be speaking to whoever’s in charge of the servants about you. I’m a Prince, and I want proper respect for it, understand?”
“Proper respect, Your Highness. Yes, Your Highness.” Harry peered through the crack in the door—Kargin was bowing repeatedly, his forehead nearly touching the ground. “At your service, Your Highness. Enjoy your bath, Your Highness.” He backed out of the room and closed the door.
Harry returned to undressing, grinning to himself. He rather liked Kargin.
True to his word, the Red Dwarf returned with a tray just as Malfoy ventured out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. “Don’t we get new clothes from somewhere?” the Slytherin demanded. “I am not showing up at court in three-day-old robes.”
Kargin set the tray down on one of the beds. “The Princes’ wardrobes,” he said, nodding to the two pieces of furniture.
“Not for climbing into,” Harry quipped. “Which one is which?”
Kargin tapped the wardrobe made of darker wood. “This one’s yours. The other is for His Highness.”
“Oh, stop calling me that,” Malfoy grumbled, pulling the door of the lighter wardrobe open.
“But Your Highness told me to call Your Highness that.”
Malfoy made an anatomically improbable suggestion. “Just get out,” he finished.
Kargin looked at Harry.
“Your call,” Harry said. “Stay or go.”
“I could stand to get cleaned up a bit before Court,” Kargin admitted. “But my room’s just down the hall if you need anything, Harry. I think you’ll be fine, though. Your clothes don’t look much different from ours.”
“What if I need something?” Malfoy said, pulling a dark green outfit from the wardrobe and looking at it critically.
Kargin snorted. “If Your Highness needs something, Your Highness can...” His suggestion was even more improbable than Malfoy’s, and rather lengthier. “And that’s if Your Highness can even find it, considering its size,” he wound up. “Good afternoon, Your Highness.”
Malfoy snatched a fork off the tray and hurled it at Kargin, who ducked out the door. Harry muffled his laughter in his bath towel.
Hermione sat still, her eyes closed, enjoying the novel feeling of someone else combing her hair. “This may hurt a little,” Garnet warned as the comb struck a knot. “Just hold still.”
“There are hair clips in with the jewelry,” said Meghan from the darkness. “Some of them are really big.”
“High Queen Ilana insisted on large ones,” said Garnet, laughing. “She said they’d be needed. Can you find some that match Hermione’s dress?”
Meghan rooted through the box, jewels clinking gently against each other. “Yes, here’s one. And here’s a match. And—ooh, what are these? Did somebody’s necklace break?”
“No, I don’t think so. I can’t imagine what they’re for.”
Garnet sounded rather too baffled, Hermione thought. She opened her eyes. “Meghan, let me see?”
Meghan trotted across the room, a small, elegant wooden box in one hand. Hermione opened it. Loose, large beads in all sorts of colors sparkled at her from within.
“Turn around,” she told Meghan. “I think I know. And you do too,” she added towards Garnet. “Fibber.”
“As you say, Princess,” said Garnet demurely.
Hermione eased a blue-painted wooden bead off one of Meghan’s braids and slipped a golden bead into its place. “They’re for your hair,” she said. “Just like the large clips are for mine, because there’s so much of it. Do you have those?”
Meghan lifted the clips above her shoulder. Hermione took them and handed them back to Garnet, then continued replacing Meghan’s beads.
“Did the High Queen really tell you to make all these?” Meghan asked, stirring the beads in the box with a finger.
“She asked the Dwarves to make them, certainly. I don’t work with metal myself, but some of my brothers do. I think... yes, these clips are my brother’s work. My second brother.”
“How many brothers do you have?” Hermione asked.
“Six. All older. Miners, craftsmen, builders. And two hopeful warriors. But only one of those is my brother.”
“Who’s the other one, then?” Meghan asked. “Your sister?”
“No, I have no sisters.” Garnet jumped down from the bed, where she’d been standing to do Hermione’s hair. “I think that’s all, Princess. The mirror is on the back of the door.”
Hermione slid on a last bead. “You’re done too, Meghan,” she said. “Should we go look together?”
“Please.”
The girls walked towards the door hand in hand. At Hermione’s nod, Garnet swung it closed and stepped back.
Hermione’s breath caught a little. The last time she’d looked this elegant, it had been for the Yule Ball, and she remembered vividly the hours she had spent wrestling her hair into shape. It had threatened to come down with every quick move of her head, and her scalp had ached for days afterwards. She’d slimmed for a month to fit into her dress robes, and still been unhappy with the figure she presented in them. No one else seemed able to see the faults, but she was aware of them at every turn.
But the young woman in the mirror wore her hair in a simple and comfortable style, pulled back and twisted over each ear before being secured with a sparkling blue clip. The stones in the clips matched those in her short necklace, and both matched the fabric of the dress she wore, which had a high waist and a long, flowing skirt.
The girl beside her wore a dress of two layers, a sheer skirt and bodice of gold overlying a long robe of white embroidered with green leaves and vines. Her golden necklace was studded with chips of emerald and slivers of moonstone, and white, green, and gold beads adorned her braids.
Meghan let out her breath in wonder. “We look like princesses,” she murmured.
“You are Princesses,” Garnet reminded her. “And the Princes should be ready as well. I’ll check and see if they are.”
Hermione and Meghan looked at each other as the door closed behind Garnet. “Are you ready?” Hermione asked.
“No. Are you nervous?”
“Yes. Are you?”
“Yes.”
They both laughed weakly.
The majordomo of the castle was a very large, friendly man whom Harry liked on sight. “Walk straight out there,” he told them in the small antechamber where they were waiting for Afternoon Court to begin. “Princess Meghan, you’re leading, so you’ll have to watch. When you’re even with the last throne, stop and turn to your right, so you’re facing the Kings and Queens. Then you all advance four paces, stop, and go to one knee. When you’re dismissed, Prince Harry, you lead the line straight back here, and Abra and I’ll take care of you.”
Meghan nodded tightly, her hands knotted in the gold fabric.
“Relax,” Harry told her, squeezing her wrist gently. “You’ll wrinkle your dress.”
As she gave him a shaky smile, trumpets blared out. “Pardon me,” the majordomo said, threading his way quickly past them. “Have to open the Court...”
He closed the door behind him, but his voice carried through it perfectly well. “Hear, all ye Creatures of Narnia, and all visitors from distant lands! Today, our Kings and Queens are pleased to sit in Afternoon Court, and hear petitions and thanksgivings from their subjects. But before any business be enacted, the Kings and Queens are pleased to welcome, and to present to Narnia, those who will next take the four thrones. Hear their names and mark them well! Princess Meghan!”
Meghan lifted her head and pushed the door open, stepping through.
“Prince Draco!”
Malfoy cleared the smirk off his face and replaced it with a cool and vaguely snide look.
“Princess Hermione!”
“I’m going to faint,” Hermione whispered.
“No, you’re not,” Harry told her, giving her a little push forward, just enough to get her moving.
“Prince Harry!”
Harry swallowed and stepped out the door. Here goes nothing.
He was glad he’d worn red. His flushing cheeks might not be quite so obvious now. Everyone in the room, down to the smallest Animal present, was looking at them. Rather than seem to be gawking, Harry kept his eyes on the back of Hermione’s head, which looked smoother than usual. When she stopped, so did he, and turned, as instructed, to the right.
The dais where the Kings and Queens sat was quite close, so that Harry could see all their faces. Queen Caelin, on the far left, was smiling now, her eyes lingering on Meghan, whom Harry realized she resembled somewhat. Beside her, King Gilles dropped an eyelid so fast Harry wasn’t sure he’d seen anything. The woman on his other side must be the High Queen, Ilana. She looked a bit like Hermione, but her hair was straighter and her face quieter, sadder, Harry wanted to say. Beside her, directly in front of Harry, sat High King Ardan.
The High King could have been anybody, but he wasn’t. It sounded stupid even in Harry’s mind, but there seemed to be no other way to describe the man. He was neither old nor young, though his brown hair held a few gray strands. Nothing in his face or bearing shouted out that he was special. And yet people would find themselves deferring to him, asking his opinion and respecting it, pledging themselves to follow him.
Hermione’s hiss broke Harry out of his reverie. Belatedly, he dropped to one knee.
The High King stood. “We do recognize these, our brethren from the world of Men, as our successors onto these thrones which Aslan has given us,” he said formally. “At such time as they have proved themselves worthy, by tests of body, mind, heart, and soul, the thrones and the rule of Narnia shall be theirs. And to give them help in their struggles, we do now bless them.”
He stepped down from the dais and took the two steps which brought him to Harry. “Prince Harry, I bless you with the sign of the Knife,” he said, and slid his thumb across Harry’s forehead, first vertically, then horizontally, like a small letter T, just over Harry’s scar. “May Aslan ever protect and defend you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry said quietly.
“We will speak more after Court,” the High King said almost without moving his lips, and moved on. “Princess Hermione, I bless you with the sign of the Knife...”
When the blessings were finished (Malfoy had looked distinctly odd while he was being blessed, and rubbed his hands against his green tunic when it was done), the High King returned to the dais. “Brethren, you are dismissed,” he said, looking down at them. “Go forth and learn well, and return to us ready in all ways.”
Harry got to his feet, bowed, and started for the antechamber, hearing Hermione’s footsteps behind him. The majordomo held the door open for them and winked as Harry looked up. “Good work,” he said when Meghan had passed the door. “Just wait in here, Abra’ll be along in a minute to take care of you. Well done, all.”
Hermione fell into a chair. “My heart’s going like you after a Snitch, Harry,” she said with a shaky laugh. “I was sure I was going to scream, or faint, or something.”
“Who goes around blessing people?” Malfoy asked. “And why do we need blessings, anyway?”
“Because we’re taking a big job,” said Meghan. “We’ll need all the help we can get.”
Malfoy sniffed but refused to comment further.
“Come along, now,” said Abra, bustling into the room at the far end, “to the library with you all. The Kings and Queens will come to you there when Court’s finished.”
Draco stared out the window towards the sea, half-listening to the conversations behind him—the Dwarf girl chattering with Freeman and Granger about clothes and hairstyles, Potter trying to explain Quidditch to the boy.
They’re hopeless. I bet the King tells them off first thing he comes in, for fraternizing with the servants. You just can’t do that kind of thing, if you’re going to be an effective ruler. And they obviously are effective. Look at the way everyone watches them...
But his mind didn’t seem to want to focus on the Court presentation, much the same way it wouldn’t focus on the water fight at the Silver Spring. Not important, it nattered. Not important to a young Prince. A young Prince must be single-minded, not thinking about anything he does not have to...
Draco frowned. Was the voice in his head back again? This time, he was going to hold it down and figure out what was going on here. He shut his eyes and concentrated. One thing at a time. So the Spring, and the fight. Why don’t I want to think about it?
Well, it was fun. He could admit that to himself, at least. It was fun to splash everyone, and get splashed. I might want to do it again sometime. As long as no one would see, or know about it.
But the presentation wasn’t fun, not like that. So why don’t I want to think about that either?
He knew, but did not want to admit that he knew. But not admitting it was tantamount to admitting it, so now he had admitted it...
And I’ve just confused myself. Bravo, Draco. Masterful.
The blessing by the High King—the unexpected touch on his forehead, sketching the Knife which had killed the great Lion, and the invocation of that same Lion to protect and defend him—it made him feel strange. He knew what he ought to feel; he ought to feel excited that no one had realized who he was really working for; he ought to feel gleeful that he had been placed under the protection of those whom he would someday bring down; he ought to... he ought to...
But I don’t.
What do I feel?
A knock on the door startled everyone. Meghan pressed a hand against her heart. Don’t panic, don’t panic...
Harry stood up from his seat at the long table in the middle of the room. “Come in!” he called.
“At last, the next generation arrives,” said a woman’s voice, and Queen Caelin entered the room, taking off her crown and setting it on the table. “You looked well at Court,” she said as Gilles came in behind her.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” said Hermione.
“Time enough for formality in public, little sister. I am Caelin to all of you, and Gilles you already know from our shocking performance of this afternoon.” She shook her head. “My abominable temper will be the downfall of our land yet.”
“Ah, no, my love,” Gilles said, stroking his wife’s hair. “Not with such an able negotiator as Ardan able to smooth over any troubles which may arise.”
“True enough, true enough. Speaking of Ardan, where is he?”
“He and Ilana were delayed by a last petition. They should be here in a moment. Meanwhile, personal introductions. This is Hermione, and this Harry.”
“One at a time, scamp,” Caelin said, laughing. “Hermione, is it? A lovely name, to match a lovely face.” She embraced the older girl and kissed her forehead. “And Harry.” She embraced him as well, then looked him in the eye. “We will speak later, if you wish,” she said quietly. “About wounds and healing. If you understand.”
“I... think I do.” Harry’s eyes were fixed on hers. “Yes. I understand.”
“And this is Meghan,” said Gilles, putting an arm around her. “I think her quite the prettiest of them, though Hermione comes close.”
Caelin laughed, turning away from Harry. “You only say that because she looks like me,” she teased. “Come here, my dear.”
Meghan came, hoping her shaking knees didn’t show.
“Are you frightened?”
So much for that. “Yes, ma’am. Caelin.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know... I don’t know if I’m good enough,” Meghan said in a rush. “I don’t know if I can be a Queen.”
“How familiar that sounds,” said Caelin, sitting down and pulling out the next chair over for Meghan. “I said the same, some years ago, when Ilana told me that she had seen Aslan, and that he wished us to rule over Narnia. I actually refused to come to Cair Paravel for quite some time. I believe I was hoping that if I held out long enough, it would become untrue.”
“But you were a grown-up. I’m just a kid.”
“I was not quite so grown-up as you think. Adults do not always think logically, or rationally. And your youth gives you some advantages. You will be able to learn much more than I could, and so quickly.” Caelin’s hand traced Meghan’s cheek. “When the time comes, you will be ready, even though you may still think you are not. I say by the Lion that if you are not ready, it will not be through lack of help from me.”
Meghan shot off her chair and into the Queen’s arms, hugging the woman hard.
“And all of you may take the same message,” she heard Caelin say over her head. “If you need help, ask us. We are here to be asked.”
“Or you could merely demand it as does everyone else,” Gilles said, eliciting some chuckles.
Harry said something in answer to this, but Meghan had stopped listening. Just now, she had all she could need or want. Tomorrow, things would be different—they might even be different in an hour or a minute—but at this moment, everything she needed was encompassed in the circle of one woman’s arms.
“But if we just demand it, then we’ll be like everyone else,” Harry said. “We’ll prove we’re royalty by asking politely.”
“You know your definitions well, little brother,” said a merry voice, and High Queen Ilana pushed the door farther open. “Though by the standards of the world at large, you have them reversed.”
Malfoy muttered something Harry didn’t catch.
Gilles turned his head. “I’m sorry, Draco?” he said politely.
Malfoy jerked around and stared at him. “What?”
“You said something I did not catch.”
“Were you meant to hear it, Gilles?” asked High King Ardan, following his wife into the room. “Your ears have led you into trouble on other occasions.”
“Ah, then I withdraw the question, if the remark was not meant to be heard. Aslan knows I say much that I would not wish repeated.”
“And since that is the case, I may ask Prince Draco to step aside with me, for some private converse,” said Ardan. “The next room, perhaps.”
Malfoy preened visibly. Harry’s heart sank. I have to say something... maybe they’ll tell me to shut up, but I have to try...
“Please, you can’t let him be the High King,” he said to the High Queen as soon as the door was closed behind king and prince. “You can’t. I don’t like him, I never have, but it’s not just that. He’s bigoted, he’s sneaky, he’d do anything to get back at someone he hates, and I think he might be in with the White Wizard already, that’s his kind of thing...”
“Peace, Harry,” Ilana said, raising a hand. “We understand this about Draco. For your part, understand that our days are not quite like the days of the High King Peter, who was High King merely because he was the firstborn of the family. You bear no blood relation to any of these who will reign with you. Thus, who will rule as High King and Queen will be determined by your fitness and your wishes.” She looked piercingly at him. “Do you so want to be High King, that you would speak out against Draco?”
“No! I don’t even really want to be a King in the first place... but I’m here, so I have to be, don’t I?”
“Not necessarily,” said Caelin. “If your entire heart and soul were against kingship, I am sure Aslan would intervene. But if you were so set against it, I doubt he would ever have brought you here.”
“One of us wonders if a certain Prince should ever have been brought here,” said Gilles quietly. “I know that I should not question Aslan, but what you say, Harry, and what we know of Draco from his one hour in the palace gives me grave doubt.”
“Your doubts are unfounded, brother,” said Ilana, smiling at him. “Aslan’s plan is sound.”
“It had better be,” said Hermione. “Draco Malfoy could ruin almost anything. If he goes and ruins Narnia...”
Draco couldn’t keep himself from strutting a little as he followed Ardan into the next room. The High King had singled him out!
He saw the greatness in me—I always knew it was there—I’ll be High Prince before you can say “wand” –
Then the look on the High King’s face sank in.
Disappointment.
Er, maybe not.
“This is your only warning, Prince,” the High King said quietly. “Conduct of the sort you showed this noon will not be tolerated. A king should serve his people first and foremost, and that service begins with courtesy.”
Draco stared at the man, feeling his jaw muscles loosen. “But...”
“Your conduct would have been wrong had it been to any of the servants here,” the High King went on. “Towards Kargin, who will be training with you in the knightly arts, it ranges towards inexcusable.”
“What?”
“Kargin and his sister are here, not as servants, but to become accomplished. They may, in time, grace your Court. If you prove yourself worthy to have one.” Twin searchlights of blue pinned Draco as if he were a rabbit. “I will not give up the crown of Narnia to any lesser man than myself. Nor will my lady, nor my brother and sister in royalty. Rather will we reign beyond our years and wait until Aslan again opens a door between the two worlds. If you wish to be crowned, comport yourself as befits a king.”
Draco dropped his eyes to the rug. “Yes, sir.”
This is not going well.
But now I know how to do better. Be a good little boy and follow the rules.
The White Wizard’s instructions suddenly popped into his head again. He could have kicked himself. He told me! He told me to go along and do what the others did, and I went and forgot all about it!
I hope I didn’t forget anything else important...
“Yes, sir,” he repeated, looking up at Ardan. “I’ll do better, sir. I promise.”
The High King smiled. “Excellent. Shall we rejoin the others?”
“As you like, sir.”
Yes, as you like, sir. And as you wish, ma’am. Until I know everything about this place, and everything about them. And then it’ll be as I like, and as I wish.
I just have to wait.
Author Notes:
Took me most of the day to write this, so you’d better appreciate it! Nah, I’m kidding. Appreciate it or not, on its merits, but please take a second to review! Ask one question, quote one favorite line, point out one problem... I prefer the first two, obviously, but doesn’t everyone?