Delight of My Eyes
by Ange;

This appeared in "ConStrcted By Plot 5." The theme was secret admirer/stalker.

Narnia fic, set before and during The Horse and His Boy. Some minor liberties taken.
Rated PG for attempted rape.


Dawn barely tinted the sky above Cair Paravel. Prince Rabadash watched it from his window, sick with
wanting what he could not have. He had journeyed here, to the land of the barbarians, at his father’s
suggestion. He had heard the tales of Queen Susan the Beautiful for years now, each becoming more elaborate
than the last. His father had begun suggesting that it was past time for Rabadash to be wed.

In truth, Susan was a beautiful woman. Tall with skin like milk and hair as black as his own, she had beguiled
him for a day. She was clever and charming, and her eyes were the color of the sky. For a day, he had wanted
nothing more than to be a cloud within her eyes, to wrap him in her knee-length hair as in a cloak of midnight,
to make her his own.

The next day, when he had begun to press his suit, King Edmund, Susan’s brother had returned from settling a
dispute between some giants on the northern border. The night-dark beauty of Susan was banished by the golden
fairness of her brother. He had swung off his horse, the green cloak bearing the lion of their heathen beliefs fluttering
in the wind behind him. The sun had glinted on his hair, picking out all the golden strands in it, and had made his
face shine when the youngest queen, Lucy had dashed out to meet him.

The weeks since had been interminable. They had been an endless round of balls and hunts and other entertainments
arranged in his honor. Queen Lucy had taken him to visit the Naiads and hear their singing, but the damp of the river
bank had put him in a foul mood. The trip with Queen Susan and the bizarre Mr. Tumnus to the Beruna Spring Market
had been only slightly more bearable.

But today, today he would hunt with King Edmund, just the two of them and their guards. He dressed as the light
became stronger, layering on an extra silk shirt. Here at the mouth of the great river where Cair Paravel stood, it was
always too damp for his liking. He missed the warmth and dryness of Calormene.

Only his mouth was dry, and he swallowed to moisten it without effect. His breath was unsteady, but he calmed himself.
It would not do to approach a simple hunt as a youth approaches the delights of the seraglio for the first time. It was
only a hunt.

He put up a fine front, and chased the stag with King Edmund all the day. As the shades of evening were falling, they
dismounted and walked beside a stream to let the horses rest before heading back to the castle.

Rabadash spoke with longing of his home in the far south. Edmund talked of Narnia. Content merely to listen to the King,
Rabadash walked in silence, stealing what glances he could.

“You, O King, have been most gracious to me, a foreigner, and my poor suit for the hand of your sister. It would honor
me greatly should you return the visit, that I may show you the wonders of Calormene, and the great city of Tashbaan.”

“We would be honored to visit and see the greatness of your lands,” Edmund returned.

Rabadash stroked the horses’ necks. “Your beasts are fine, but our horses cannot be caught by the very wind. When you
come, I will send four back with you for Your Majesties. Your sister would be very beautiful on a black mare.” He did not
add that there was a stallion whose coat shone the same tawny gold as Edmund’s hair which he would send as well.

“Your courtesy and generosity have left a fine mark on my sisters. They have enjoyed your company,” Edmund said. “We
 regret King Peter has had so little time to spare you.”

“And yourself?” Rabadash slowed to a near-stop and looked down at Edmund.

“You have been a fine hunting companion. Not many can sit a horse on my course. You play chess well too.”

“I have enjoyed our games.” He had. Rabadash had stored away a treasure-trove of memories of Edmund: his hands on
chess pieces, his brow lined in thought, his eyes lit with joy as he won. He had no such hoard of Susan.

Rabadash reached out a hand and covered Edmund’s where it lay on the bridle of his horse. “I thank you for your hospitality.”
 Seeing no desire flare in young king’s eyes, he clasped it firmly and released. There was a time and a place for seduction, but
here among the very trees that could spy on one was not it.

“My sister is quite taken with you. High King Peter has charged me to learn your intentions.”

“If she will have me, I would wed her. We should both profit from a closer alliance between our kingdoms. In time, she will be
queen of Calormen and a mother of kings. A wise councilor like yourself would always be welcome at my court as well.”

They rode back, talking of nothing much. Rabadash took his leave the next day.

Over the golden Narnian summer, the missives arrived with astounding regularity. Invitations, mere love letters and more
invitations, along with glowing, witty descriptions of Tashbaan and Calormen and all his daily life flowed from Rabadash’s
pen. The runners who handed the messages to each other along the route from Tashbaan through Archenland to Cair Paravel
exhausted themselves in his service.

As fall drew on, Susan wrote back that she and Edmund and Lucy would sail to Tashbaan for the winter. Rabadash received
the letter with joy and began making plans.  He scoured the markets of Tashbaan and the smaller cities, searching for gifts. He
arranged the finest food and other delicacies to be prepared. Special items were commissioned for each visitor, and elaborate
palanquins made so that the queens would not need to walk.

Privately, the prince played a thousand scenarios in his mind. There was a late supper, just him and Edmund to discuss his suit.
When the time was right and the wine was strong, he would stroke that golden face and then kiss the handsome king. There
was the hunting expedition, in which he would lose their retinue, and take his guest to a private oasis. They would not be
found until morning, by which time he would have made Edmund his. There was a chess game that could lead to more, so
that he could stroke Edmund as he touched the chess pieces. The possibilities, here in his own lands, without the spying birds
and whispering trees of the barbaric north, were infinite.

The day the Splendour Hyalene rowed into the city, Rabadash felt his insides turn to water. There on the prow stood Susan,
night-dark and beautiful, and beside her, driving her darkness away was the glorious sun of Edmund.

Rabadash was sulking in his rooms. Nothing had pleased him in the month since the White Barbarian Lords of Narnia had come
to visit. The sun was darkened before his eyes and the moon was veiled at night. Food became ashes in his mouth, and he could
 not sleep for tossing. All his plans were for naught.

All of this left him in foul temper. He did his best to disguise it. He sent gifts to Queen Susan: exotic fruits, rich cloth, trained slaves.
She accepted them gravely, and returned them in kind. But never a word of love passed between them.

“More cloth.” Susan cast the bolt of shot silk aside and sat on the divan. “It is beautiful, but I cannot wear it without looking ill.
Lucy, it would suit you better.”

Lucy looked up from where she was playing with Edmund, their fair heads in close conference over the small chessboard. “Does
he not see you as you are? Truly, it is a lovely color.” She held up the sky-blue silk to her shoulder. “But a night blue would
suit you better.”

“Is Rabadash courting you, Susan, or our royal sister?” Edmund asked. “Mayhap I should ask him his intent!”

“If I knew no better, I would say he is courting you, Edmund.” Lucy laughed at the absurdity. “Look at the gifts he sends: the fruit
that does not agree with Susan, but which you love. The silk suits our high coloring, but not her dark paleness. The slaves which
play chess, but which cannot dress hair. All the gifts have been more suited to you.”

“Tell me now, dear sister. Will you marry your dark-faced lover or no?”

“No. He seemed fair and generous enough when he came to us. But here, he shows himself a proud, cruel tyrant.”

Edmund caught her hands. “Then it is my duty to inform him that his suit is refused.” He will not receive the news with grace, my sisters.
Make ready to leave in an instant.”

Rabadash was lounging in his apartments, picking through a bowl of grapes without eating them when Edmund was shown in.

“Your Majesty. Please join me.” He gestured to where the chessboard sat with their unfinished game.

“I prefer to keep this brief, Your Highness. My sister——“

“No, no, no talk of Her Majesty. Sit with me a while, Edmund. The day is too warm for any anger or unpleasantness.” He slid over to
the chess table. “I believe it was my move.” He made it.

Not wanting to offend, but unwilling to drag things out, Edmund sat and made short work of Rabadash’s defenses. The prince tipped his
king over with bad grace.

“You have bested me everywhere, Your Majesty. On the hunt, in the dance, on the battlefield of chess. Is there nowhere
 you are weak?”

“Prince Rabadash,” Edmund said, rising, “We thank you for your hospitality to us and our royal sisters. It is to our great regret
 that we say——“

Silken lips that tasted faintly of grapes ended anything else Edmund was saying. A slick tongue fluttered at his own lips, and the strong
arms of Rabadash surrounded him cutting off escape.

“Say nothing until you hear me, my golden one,” Rabadash whispered, kissing his way to Edmund’s ear. “Do not struggle so. I have
done this all for love of you. Susan is beautiful, but it is you I love. She will be queen and mother of kings of Calormen. You would
 be vizier, with all the power I could give you. Say yes. Do not take your sunlight from before my eyes.”

Edmund twisted free of the embrace and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He had stolen kisses from the occasional dryad or naiad, but
 this was different from those chaste, playful pecks. “She will not marry you.” He spat the words at the prince, and turned to go.

He was knocked to the carpet and Rabadash pinned his shoulders. “She is mine. And you are mine. Please me properly, O King and
I shall return you to those you love. Refuse me and you do not leave this room alive. Queen Susan will be my queen, by her will or
against it. Your retinue will be slaughtered where they stand. Queen Lucy will make a fine boy. She looks very like you. Enough that in
the dark, I shall call her Edmund and scarcely know the difference.”

Rabadash dove in for another kiss. Edmund, prepared this time, bit him. He could feel the hard shape of the prince’s body through the
thin silk robe

“Do not do this wickedness, Prince. You risk the wrath of Narnia and the Great Lion on your country.”

“Your demons do not concern me, beautiful barbarian. Your brother’s wrath will be allayed with rich gifts and military alliances.” He drew
a curved and bejeweled dagger. “Kiss me or you die here.”

Years later, both in Narnia and in England, Edmund could remember with piercing clarity every detail of the room: the feel of the carpet beneath
him, the scent of rich wood and incense, the way the light slanted and turned Rabadash's black curls to cinnamon.

It would have been beautiful, had it been with a chosen lady and not forced upon him. Rabadash repeated the order. Steeling himself, Edmund
kissed the prince. It wasn’t a bad kiss by any means, but it was not the kiss Edmund wanted.

“You have no passion, lovely king. Where is the fire?” Rabadash’s face held only disappointment without anger.

“I have none for you, prince.”

“If you were as wise and just as your name, you would. For you are all that stands between my will and your sisters.” Like thwarted child,
Rabadash struggled to understand. “It was all for you. All the letters, the feasts, the hunts. The gifts. How can you deny me? How can I make
you desire me as I thirst for you?”

Seizing the moment of his captor’s confusion, Edmund tried again. This time, he shut his eyes and imagined his desired lady above him.
Rabadash accepted the kiss and returned it eagerly.

“There is your desire, my beautiful Edmund. I knew it awaited me.” Greedy with long denial, Rabadash took what was offered and demanded
more. His hands slid over Edmund’s face and under his tunics, soft and gentle.

While his assailant was distracted with the foreign cloth and fasteners, Edmund twisted himself round about like the wrestler he’d once been
and flung the prince across the room. He fled the rooms.

All know the rest of the story. How the Narnians fled Tashbaan, and the lost prince of Archenland was restored to his throne. All know
 too, of how Rabadash was fitted with an ass’s head and warned that should he leave Tashbaan after the removal, it would be permanent.
And you know how the Great Kings and Queens of Narnia vanished while hunting, back to their world.

Rabadash remained in Tashbaan as ordered, gaining the name “Rabadash the Peaceful.” Few knew of the dreams that haunted him
throughout his life. Few knew of the beautiful blond boys he bought and freed after a single night.

All knew he was found with a dagger in his chest, as was not uncommon for Tisrocs. Most blamed his next-oldest brother. Few knew the
dagger was his. And none at all knew of the news from Narnia that day of the vanishing of the kings and queens on a royal hunt.