This is the first fanfiction I've written, so I'm really excited! I really hope you enjoy it. I would appreciate if you reviewed it, but it's not like I'll jump off the Empire State Building if you don't.
I created this solely for my personal entertainment, I'm not C.S. Lewis so I don't own Narnia. I wish I did.
The Palace of Glass
Prologue - In The Absence of Pain
Seven years earlier
Mum and Dad and I lived in a little cottage by the Beruna river. Dad had built it himself shortly after he married Mum. It was tiny but gorgeous, and it was home to us. My Dad was a bit of a hermit, as was Mum, so we had no neighbors. Not human, anyway. Every inch of Narnia teemed with life, you just had to know where to look.
My parents didn't understand the need I felt for company, after weeks and weeks with only the two of them. They didn't know of my secret forest friends, the Talking Beasts that I would play with in the woods all day. They didn't know of my secret river friends either, the naiads who would creep up to my window and whisper with me on those sleepless nights.
I was almost ten years old when the Great Storm came. All my forest friends had run off unexpectedly a few days before, as if they knew what would happen. The naiads had disappeared into the water, as they tend to do. It was only my Mum, Dad, and I again. It rained for days, the river rising with every hour until its banks could no longer contain it.
I can remember glancing out the window, and seeing the huge wave of frothy water rushing toward me. I remember Mum racing in and pulling me out of the house, with Dad right behind her. But it was too late. The rest is just a blur, with flashes of clarity here and there.
Screaming. Lots of screaming. Shrill, piercing cries that will forever haunt my dreams.
Freezing cold water. My teeth chattering, crushing my tongue. The taste of blood in my mouth.
Splashing, struggling to swim to safety against the current. Dad dragging me onto a floating piece of debris, fighting to keep his head above the water just long enough to ensure my safety.
Mum's shrieks as Dad slipped under a wave. Her frantic cries as she waited for him to come back up. Her choking sobs when he never did.
My own screams as Mum went searching for Dad. Her head disappearing under the water, then returning to gasp for air, then back down again. She must have found him, because she never came back either.
The numbness as I waited to be rescued. Icicles pierced my thoughts and left my mind empty. I couldn't feel anything at all. I vaguely remember curling up on the soggy boards and letting the river take me where it wished.
Help arrived eventually. It came with the Kings and Queens, who rode up, ready to save whoever needed saving. The Queens in their gorgeous long dresses waited worriedly on the shore, while the Kings jumped in. I recall King Edmund swimming out bravely through the rushing flood to me, even though he was only a year older than myself. He dragged me back to shore, before jumping back in to join the High King Peter in his search for other survivors.
Queen Lucy forced a drop of her legendary healing cordial down my throat, though her sister protested that all I needed was a warm blanket. Once the warmness had spread through my body, I lost the protection from feeling that the cold had given me. The shock hit me hard. I couldn't breathe from the pain. Not the physical effects of the cold water, but the hurt of having lost my parents.
I stood with the river rushing past my muddy feet, screaming at the icy water to return my parents. When the Kings came out empty handed, I begged them to look again. Bless their souls, without a second thought they jumped back into the freezing river. When they came back out again, they wordlessly hugged me tight, letting me sob into their soaking shoulders.
After I had cried my eyes dry, they took me to a nearby village. After making sure that I was in good hands, they had ridden off to rescue other Narnians in need of saving. I hugged them each tight before they left, halfheartedly thanking them for their help. I was so consumed with my loss to be grateful for what I still had.
During the years various kind souls took me in and raised me until I was about fifteen, when I set out on my own. Remembering the kindness of the Kings and Queens in my time of need, I decided to devote my life to helping those in danger. I traveled around Narnia, ridding it of all the evil I could. I dreamed of the day that I would be reunited with my parents, and Aslan himself would thank me for my hard work.
