the golden age

[deepest_magic]

When the party has died down, Isabella, for one, is well and truly exhausted. She explores the palace until she finds a room with a bed in it, and into this bed she flops, still in her clothes and holding her staff and carrying the cordial in her pocket. She sleeps late, because the party kept her up so late and she hadn't really slept the night before; but around noon, she stirs, and gets up, and goes looking for James and wherever her backpack may have got to. The backpack she finds in the great hall where the principal mass of the party was; some enterprising creature took both bags from the battlefield at Beruna up to the castle for them, and she only wishes she knew who it was. She takes her bag to her room and carries James's with her and continues looking for her friend.

Comments

[deepest_magic]

"Thank you! Merry Christmas."

[pythbox]

"Indeed, indeed."

He departs, smiling.

[neverbeatme]

"Magic rings! I guess we get engagement rings after all, in a sense. Have I mentioned how much I like Father Christmas?"

[deepest_magic]

"You have mentioned it, but this seems like the right day of year to mention it again." Isabella tries her ring on; it fits perfectly, of course. Silver almost-Celtic knotwork with appropriately shaped diamonds throwing fire from the gaps. "Oh, pretty."

[neverbeatme]

"Very!"

James's ring matches. She puts it on. It fits her perfectly, too.

"I like Father Christmas a lot!"

[deepest_magic]

"He's pretty great." The ring sparkles in the firelight.

[neverbeatme]

Sparkle, sparkle.

"I love you," yawns James. "Let's go to bed."

[deepest_magic]

"I love you too. My room tonight?"

[neverbeatme]

"Sounds good."

[deepest_magic]

Snuggly sleepy monarchs.

[neverbeatme]

So sleepy and snuggly. What a good Christmas. It is much like other Narnian Christmases in that way.

[deepest_magic]

Narnia has wedding customs, but they are between various creatures, and would not apply (for example, neither ruler is planning to give her affianced a heap of wood, as is customary among beavers). So they import some Earth things - Isabella's dress, though it is in full Narnian fashion all over leaves and flowers, is white. There is a cake, with some local chocolate (much nicer quality by now) adorning the frosting. There will be dancing while a small orchestra of creatures accompanies them with traditional Narnian songs and a little Bach Isabella pried out of the bookshelf.

There is an excitable rumor going about that Aslan will appear to marry them, but they can't really plan on that or even get an invitation to him (people who do get invitations: knights, Cair Paravel householders, important personages from the neighboring lands, holders of various honors from the war, other individuals who they like personally). So they plan on Mr. Tumnus conducting the ceremony, and they write themselves some vows, and the whole thing is held on the beach in high summer with the breeze blowing blessedly cool over them all from the sea.

Aslan does not appear to serve as celebrant, so Tumnus does it, and he does a perfectly lovely job, and the king and queen kiss one another.

[neverbeatme]

It is a beautiful ceremony, and after that there is a delicious feast, and the dancing is fun, and then the King and Queen of Narnia are married and this is an excellent thing to be.

[deepest_magic]

So excellent! Most excellent.

[neverbeatme]

And now that they are married they can go on a Royal Progress and visit the towns and villages of Narnia and meet with their subjects and attend lots of parties and stay in their new summer palace.

[deepest_magic]

All of which traveling is made more comfortable with Isabella's pocket house, although the summer palace is roomier and prettier than the pocket house and some creatures are so woeful at the prospect of the king and queen not staying in their home that the pocket house must occasionally be foregone.

[neverbeatme]

The king is perfectly content to stay in the homes of various creatures, and also perfectly delighted by Isabella's pocket house. There is a lot to be delighted about. They are the King and Queen of Narnia, and they have a beautiful and prosperous kingdom, and they are married.

[deepest_magic]

All of which is so delightful. Their lives are so great.

[neverbeatme]

The Royal Progress winds all around the country. Every creature in Narnia gets a chance to see their monarchs, and many get the chance to speak with them, even if only briefly.

Eventually, though, they have visited every town and village and major landmark; they have stayed at the summer palace twice, and in Isabella's pocket house innumerable times; and they return to Cair Paravel to catch up with all the business that could not be conducted via knight-pin or scepter. James does a lot of paperwork at her writing desk. Routine rulership resumes.

[deepest_magic]

And when the work is all caught up with - Isabella does a lot of careful recordkeeping and filing, and has things to copy out of her notebook and organize -

Some creatures are putting together a music festival. It's a few hours' ride away; would the queen like to come and bring her harp? The queen would. She kisses her spouse goodbye - "Love you, Jamie!" - and gets on her horse and heads to the festival. There are piping satyrs, singing badgers, harpsichord-duetting peahens, a giant with a set of drums, dwarves with brass ensembles and centaurs forming string quartets. And Isabella on harp.

[pythbox]

The venue is beautiful. A shallow amphitheater constructed on a little island in the middle of a sparkling lake, with grass and wildflowers growing among the audience seating and one-fifth of the circle of benches interrupted by a dense stand of trees. The outer rows have a good view of the lake beyond the stage and the creatures sitting opposite. The day is clear, the sky a cheerful shade of blue, and the sounds of the water quiet enough that they do not at all impede enjoyment of the music.



And then, partway through Isabella's performance, abruptly and without warning, the water around the little island freezes over.

[deepest_magic]

Everybody, in a word, freaks out. Isabella plays a couple more notes, but soon flattens her hands over the harp strings to try to hear what the creatures are so alarmed about.

She hears "Winter".

She reaches into her bag for cloak and bow.

[jackfrostbite]

A man in a black surcoat blazoned with a silver snowflake strolls out of the trees, laughing wildly. His skin is blue, his hair blue-black, and all of him glitters like ice.

This has predictable effects on the already panicking creatures.

[deepest_magic]

Isabella's cloak settles around her shoulders.

She shoots him; she gets him in the shoulder.

She reaches for her scepter to bring it to her lips and speak to James.

[jackfrostbite]

He yanks the arrow out of his shoulder and keeps walking, unconcerned by the fountain of sparkling black blood that arcs out over the amphitheater and freezes everything it touches - grass, the ground, assorted instruments, unlucky creatures slow to flee. The flow abates after a few seconds, down to a mere gush from a pressurized spray, but in the meantime Isabella is splashed with burning-cold fluid. And Winter has nearly reached her.