GOLDEN SUN - P. PEVENSIE

I. iii. WAYWARD

ACT I SCENE iii: WAYWARD
AELIA

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The moment High King Peter and King Edmund walked into the pub, Aelia knew there would be trouble. She knew from how the pub was suddenly silent, how Esmeray grinned, how her brother tensed. She knew from how her own heart had given a start at the sight of the golden king. She just knew in her heart that this wouldn't be their most positive monthly meeting.

    "Wonder if he wants me to finish him off," Anatoly muttered as he turned back around. Esmeray giggled, but Aelia could only roll her eyes. Her brother was a lot of talk, a little bit of bite. He had apparently gotten the king good last weekend, but neither she or Esmeray had noticed the black eye he apparently laid on him. Perhaps the king was more deceptive than she had assumed. "Don't roll your eyes at me, Aelia."

    "You would not follow up on a fight with the High King if it meant an extra month's pay," Aelia argued as she sat back on her stool, taking a long swig from her mug of beer. The amber liquid warmed her throat and stomach as it went down, clouding her head to a dull haze. "You would be banished before the lot of us were sober, and then who would tell us entertaining stories and gossip from the stables?"

    "I am sure Esmeray could manage a few horses every now and then," Anatoly teased, nudging Esmeray's foot with his own under the table.

    "I could not! I am very important to the kitchens!"

"Sure, Es."

    Esmeray kicked Anatoly's shin back harder, causing him to curse and smack the table. "Don't be rude, Tolya. I'm sure they could do without an extra stablehand as big as you."

    "Come dance, Es. I'm sorry," Anatoly said, making a pleading face at their friend. Aelia tucked her grin behind her hand as Esmeray sighed and conceded, giving Anatoly her hand as he led her to the opening in the floor where couples and friends gathered to dance. Aelia was never much of a dancer, especially after a few drinks. Anatoly never ceased to remind her of that the nights after, so she had stopped suggesting they go dancing as well as drinking. Now, if the fancy struck them, Anatoly and Esmeray would dance together and leave Aelia to herself. Occasionally, a man would ask her to dance, but the glare her brother would level at them was more than enough to scare them away. Anatoly was doing their father's work when he did that, apparently. Aelia was sure her father would be happy to marry his daughter off to any man with a little coin and a home for her to keep.

    She took another gulp of her beer as the High King and King Edmund approached the bar, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Perhaps they would order something strong enough to kick them both in the ass so the bar didn't all have to walk on eggshells for the rest of the night. It was only the odd time any of the rulers would come down to the pub - save for Queen Lucy, as she was too young still - but until they were drunker than the barmen, everyone was careful and quiet.

    Esmeray and Anatoly were laughing as they swung one another around in the middle of the floor, the former's feet almost always lifted from the ground. Aelia could not ignore the glint in her brother's eye as he gazed down at their friend, the way his hand fit perfectly on her lower back. Esmeray had a crush on him when they were small, but they had not spoken of it since they were moved to Cair Paravel. Anatoly himself had never admitted it; he surely never would. But Aelia knew no one better for each other than her brother and almost-sister. The three of them knew each other inside and out, and if they could find happiness in one another, why would Aelia ever intervene?

She belatedly realized her beer was empty, and instead of taking her brother's, as she usually would, she decided to be bold. She strutted up to the bar and stood close to the High King, nearly touching his arm. He stiffened and wouldn't look in her direction at all as she ordered a second beer for herself. King Edmund had a smug grin on his face, but he too wouldn't turn his face.