cribellate | narnia au;

"A wish?" He seems interested by that, but no more so than he had seemed interested in the dryads, or in her. It seems the whole land is full of wonders; he's not sure which part the Lion meant to say could ease his aching heart. But the distraction does well enough, for now.

"I'm used to a world of magic," he says, not wanting to be outdone completely, even if he has been. "But so much darker. With so little light."

"Just so!" she exclaims. "Any wish, they say, but it is the most difficult creature to catch, and is rarely spotted," she elaborates. Everyone wants a wish from the white stag of Narnia, but how many have gotten one?

She looks at him for a long moment. "Well, we are a world of very much light," she says. "Everyone comes here for a reason, Lord Bane."

Magnus considers this quietly, but tries to act as though it doesn't matter to him quite so much as it does. Any wish? He could get his Alexander back? But in what form, at what cost?

He pauses. "Did you come here? For a reason?"

She smiles a little, as she focuses forward, now. "Yes," she says, and for a moment, she does not elaborate. There are always reasons, for Narnia. "The first time," she says, "it was to save it from a war," she clarifies. "The second time," she continues, "it was to help a young prince."

She remembers that like a dream. She was so young. Another time-

"Another time I came to learn the sea. And now?" She looks a little fond. "It is because it is the home of my heart. It healed me. Kept me safe."

He wonders if she's going to explain, a playful smirk starting to pull at his lips. And then she does go on and the smirk turns more genuine, into a slight smile.

"Healed you?" Magnus can't help his interest, remembering what the Lion said. "How were you injured?"

"I had died. My whole family, almost, died," she says, carefully. "That is not the only way you get here. But it is one way. Her majesty, Queen Susan came later. She found another way."

Lucy is speaking carefully, because she doesn't want him to freak out. A lot of people come to Narnia before they die; she did it three times, after all.

He doesn't look too surprised, not outwardly, but his breath catches in his throat and hope again springs up in his heart. Could it be that Alec is here too, having gotten here from death?

His surprise and hope make it hard for him to be scared.

"Like me?" He's curious about Susan, too, and too polite to ask Lucy detail such as how she died.

"What way did she find?

What was your way back?"

"I do not know how you got here," she says, laughing. "Her majesty told us that she grew old in other world, that she had children and life and lovers, and then she fell asleep. Imagine our surprise when she stepped out of the forest, young and unmarked by age or sorrow."

She laughs a little. "Why," she says. "I took the train, and woke on the beach. I have always been most drawn to the sea." She looks at him, and she thinks she sees-

-nevermind. "But you must not think so. You, instead, must get ready for a party. You may meet the High King, and all the friends of Narnia."

"Must I?" he echoes, but teasing, playful. Magnus would much rather spend this time asking more questions, thinking in the exact way that this Lucy is telling him not to think. There seems to be a path there, a thread that if he tugs on hard enough, it might unravel a secret. A great, grand secret. But he knows he's not in the position to be making demands.

"Well," she says, still teasing, laughing, "if you wish us to answer your questions, I fear you may have to, yes," she says, because she knows men like this.

Men who come to Narnia through different routes. Those are always someone looking for an answer. "And we are all at a ball, so I fear that is the only way," she says, although she's not entirely serious. If he were to ask her truly, she would tell him.

But he has to earn it, just a little.

"Alas, a ball. How terrible." He's plainly kidding because a man like him, dressed in fine cut, glittery and embroidered clothes, should never say no to a ball.

"Am I dressed for it?" he asks. Because while he's well dressed, she's wearing a dress that's in a style he hasn't seen in centuries, except at Renaissance fairs, in much poorer fashion.

She looks him up and down, and considers it, truly. "I think you will do well with what you are wearing," she says, finally. But she does have to ask-

"How is it you sparkle so?"

Well, he's honestly pleased that she gives it some thought. He would hate to show up underdressed to a party he's only just been invited to, without the knowledge of the host.

He grins mischievously at the question.

"That's my magic," he says. "It's a secret."

She laughs a little. "I have a necklace of starlight, and it will go well alongside, if you will permit me to match, sir," she says, with a giggle, her hands holding his, now. She has no shame, and no regrets for it; she is a bright thing through and through. "And I hope you will. It will cause the most wonderful scandal."

Lucy just likes to make enough trouble to get attentions, and not really anymore than that.

It's been a while since the time when couples dressed to match, outside of costume parties, and even longer since such a thing would cause a scandal. It's a nice reminder, a nice throwback to a life he once had. More carefree, back then.

He doesn't smile down at their joined hands, though the temptation is there. Instead he directs that smile straight at her.

"You picked the right man. I love a good scandal."

"Lovely," she says, walking backwards a little. The forest is green, and vibrant, the flowers blooming as they pass. Lucy knows it's for her, a display to make her smile, and she does. "Everything has become so boring, lately, and stirring up the High King would do wonders for all of us," she says, with a wrinkle of her nose.

But that said-

"What did you come to Narnia to find, sir?"

"You're quite the little minx, to think to bother a king so and not face the consequences." But even as he says it, it's plain that Magnus approves. And he's more than happy to face any consequences with her. He gets the feeling that, being with Lucy, things cannot possibly that bad.

He hesitates at the question. He doesn't know enough about Narnia to fabricate a neat little lie. So he admits the truth.

"I don't know," he says. "What is there to find?"

She laughs. "Well, then we will have to not get caught, will we not?" she says, turning a pretty circle. Her skirts spin around her calves, and there is something wildly carefree about it.

And she makes a little noise. Hm. "Well. You can find almost anything your heart desires, if you know how to look. Adventure, or romance, or simply a place for your soul to settle."

She's easy to be with, easy to admire. It's easy to fall into a trap of wanting to please her, to make that seemingly ever-present smile brighten just for him. She's dangerous.

But his heart is heavy. It's tired and worn.

He can play, but he can't fall in love again.

"What about all three? Where do I start? Beyond this party."

She laughs a little. "Well, you may be my guest, and I will show you everything," she says, taking his hand and her smile brightens.

And she will.

She takes him to Cair Paravel and has one of her friends take him to get ready, but she doesn't tell him who she is; maybe she's being mischievous on purpose, or maybe she wants to see his face when she's announced, but she doesn't know exactly what it is.

That is why when the party begins, when everyone is announced and she comes down the stairs almost last in a dress made of gold cloth, she manages to not look for him right away. But as the party goes on, she finds her way to the dance floor, and she finds him in a center by himself. "Sir," she says, giggling, "have you been asked for a dance by every girl in the party?"

Devious little girl. Little queen, in fact. Magnus accepts the news with barely a shift in expression, though he has a few words planned for her when finally she gets around to seeing him. He knows how it is for royalty; he would never presume, even with how friendly and easy-going she has been before.

"Nearly. And I hoped every young man as well. Your brothers cut fine figures." He's teasing -- about wanting to dance with them, not about the figures. His eyes are plainly only for Lucy at the moment.

He dips into a low bow and offers his hand with a flourish.

"But I believe it's you that I was to scandalize with."

"Well," she says, laughing, and taking his hand with a slightest of curtsies, "if you wish to dance with either of my brothers, I would suggest Edmund," she says.

She looks over to where her brother is flirting with someone. "He is the finer dancer. Peter would step on your feet."

She comes in closer, now. "But I would be most pleased to accept this dance."

"Ah, but I have a fondness for blue eyes," he points out. It's a painful reminder of Alec, to be honest, but it's the truth and it works for this tease. Edmund has the darkest complexion of all the royal siblings, but Lucy's eyes are bright and blue and wonderful.

He sets his hand politely at her waist, drawing her in closer to him. He's a fine dancer himself, well-practiced in a way that makes ladies -- and men -- swoon. He doesn't put on all the charm, not quite, but he holds her comfortably. They're meant to start a scandal, after all.

"Well, then you should just stay with me," she says, and laughs a little.

They're dancing, and it's comfortable; they're beautiful together. People are already starting to chatter, about the handsome stranger and their pretty queen, about the way that their queen is twirling in his arms like they were born to be together.

When the dance ends she rises up on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. "My lord," she says, giggling. "You are dangerous."

"I?" Magnus counters with a smirk. His heart feels light and for a moment he thinks that... not that he's happy, but that some of the shadows that weigh upon him, that he hides so well, have dissipated a little. Maybe it's simply the environment; maybe it's Lucy. Either way, he doesn't quite want it to stop.

"This was your idea, darling. I'm simply your plaything, like the rest of them."

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