friend_of_lucy | (no subject)

(no subject)

He had a day of grace before they came, wolves circling as the door was burst open.

Tumnus stood and tried not to tremble as Maugrim growled through the warrant,

"The former occupant of these premises, the Faun Tumnus, is under arrest and awaiting his trial on a charge of High Treason against her Imperial Majesty Jadis, Queen of Narnia, Chatelaine of Cair Paravel, Empress of the Lone Islands, etc., also of comforting her said Majesty's enemies, harbouring spies and fraternizing with Humans.

signed MAUGRIM, Captain of the Secret Police, LONG LIVE THE QUEEN."

As it was read, his home, his father's home was taken apart before his eyes, if they could break something they did and Tumnus wished to cry out and tremble. Yet he couldn't, he would not betray Lucy that way, he would be strong and be a true Narnian.

Always growling, Maugrim and his men paced Tumnus trying to make him respond and finally had to simply lead him through the snow towards Her House as his home stood like a wound.

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Jadis was waiting for them in the courtyard, pacing back and forth on the light coating of crackling frost that crunched and squeaked under her bare feet. She was scowling, and tossing her wand from hand to hand. Her attendants stood nearby, shuffling anxiously - but, they hoped, silently. It did not do to draw the Queen's attention when she was in such a mood.

At the sound of wlf-pads and faun hooves on the thicker snow outside, Jadis stopped her pacing, and turned to face the doorway, face blank. The only indication of her mood was the tightness of her knuckles.

She's so tall and frightening and Tumnus quakes as he tries not to meet her gaze, stand tall as his father must have.

"Mister Tumnus," the witch says, spitefully, hissing the words.

"You know why you are here. What, no words, no declarations of innocence? Just sullen silence? I had hoped better. But you are just a faun like the others. Nothing more. Trash."

"I kept her safe from you."

He finally gets out, his hands in fists so tight his knuckles are white.

"You think so?" the witch says, and then throws her head back, and laughs. It's not a nice sound.

"Silly, foolish, little faun. So innocent. You really think that you have made any difference?"

Tumnus trembles at that laugh and hates himself for it,

"Y.you don't have her."

She raises an eyebrow.

"Are you so very sure of that?"

She doesn't. Yet. But it's only a matter of time. With the boy in her clutches, it won't be long before she has all four. . . children.

Now he tries to peer around and see the statues, looking for a small figure full of laughter.

Tumnus doesn't see her but that doesn't mean she's not there, but he can't let her down, so he faces her,

"S.she's safe."

"If you are so very sure," the witch asks with a cruel chuckle, "then why are you looking for her?"

"I.i watched her go."

He can't let this get to him or else Lucy will be in worse trouble. His plan isn't working as well as he'd like, but he has to be strong, Lucy thinks he's good.

"But you did not see her come back."

The wich sighs.

"I thought we trusted each other, you and I."

"S.she wasn't cruel, she's just a child."

There's almost a bleat to his voice, he knows his fate but she can't have Lucy, she just can't.

"Children," says the witch, softly, dangerously, "have a habit of growing up."

She tilts her head to one side.

"Did you really think that I would not know that you had disobeyed me, little faun?"

He looks down, he knew this was coming just didn't know when,

"N.no, I knew I couldn't h.hide."

"Silly little thing," she says, almost kindly, and reaches out a hand to pat him on the top of his curly head, right between his horns.

She is wondering what to do with him. She could torture him, make an example of him. . . but that's not really necessary, and it's an expenditure of time and effort.

Tumnus shrinks from her hand, but stands firm.

The witch shrugs and turns away, and with a negligent wave of her hand he is no longer a faun, but a stone statue of a faun, the frost already beginning to gather on his carven beard and hair.

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