The Evil Time Will Be Over and Done

by newkathy97

The Battle for Narnia is over, but four new rulers have only begun their reign. A collection of stories and adventures from the Golden Age of Narnia, in chronological order. Book-verse, with characters borrowed from the LWW movie. First Chapter posted, in which some realities must be faced even in the first spring after a century of winter.

The Battle was over, the Witch defeated, and four crowns rested on four long-awaited heads. For a fortnight after, the celebration carried through from dawn through the night, as the Narnians reveled in the joys of the first spring in a century. Lucy danced with the fauns and satyrs, joining in the mad delight that Mr. Tumnus had described so vividly to her that cold winter afternoon at tea, when Narnia had still been in the clutches of Jadis and her armies. That time of suffering seemed so distant in this time of joy, and yet not quite a month had passed since they first stepped foot in Narnia.

But even the most happy of celebrations must come to a close, and as the party quieted after fourteen days the reality of their new circumstances began to sink into the mind of each new young king and queen. One evening after dusk, when the moon hanging serenely in the soft violet sky marked a month since their coming to Narnia, when Susan found Peter walking on the ramparts of the West wall, looking out over the green hills and forests of the land that was now their kingdom. He was quiet, and his face somber as he leaned with his forearms on the top of the wall, shoulders relaxed.

"It's beautiful," he said softly, after a moment.

Susan agreed. "To think how we all thought of poor Lucy when she first told us about the wardrobe and Narnia."

Peter chuckled. "Poor old Lu. She's been a sport about the whole thing, really. And look at us now. If only Mum and Dad could see us."

At his last remark, Susan's eyebrows drew together in concern. "Peter?"

"Su?"

"Do you think they've noticed we're gone?"

"Who's noticed?" Peter asked, absently. "The party's wound down now. Thank goodness. I think even Lucy was starting to fade."

Susan laughed. "The word for her is indefatiguable." Peter smiled fondly out over the darkening Narnian horizon.

"Where is she now?"

"Fast asleep in bed."

"As she should be. Ed?"

"The same, I think. He's in his room, at least. He was quiet the last two weeks. He's been through a lot, I suppose."

"Poor Edmund," Peter replied, mournfully. "He had the worst of it. I know he went to the Witch himself, really, and he was a perfect beast to Lucy in the beginning, but still. He's just a kid. But he'll mend, Susan."

"He probably still feels awful."

"I expect so," Peter sighed, heavily, and Susan thought he sounded much older than the Peter who had been counting for hide-and-seek in the Professor's library, which was worlds away now. "He needn't, though. He was marvelous in the battle. Absolutely marvelous."

"As I've heard you both were," Susan remarked. Peter seemed not to have heard her.

"He saved my life, you know. The Witch was a second away from turning me to stone with her wand, when Edmund stepped in and smashed it, and then she stabbed him."

Susan shuddered, as her mind flickered back to the image of Edmund, pale and clutching his punctured stomach as it oozed dark blood. "Thank goodness for that cordial of Lucy's."

"Indeed," Peter replied, gravely. They stood, side by side, in silence once again.

"When I asked if they missed us, I meant the people at home. The Professor, Mum. Even Mrs. McCready." Susan spoke after some time. "We've been gone for a month."

To her surprise, Peter suddenly laughed. "They'd never think to look for us in that dusty old wardrobe, I suppose?"

"Probably not," Susan answered, dryly. "But Peter -" And suddenly an exhausted feeling she had not touched in fourteen days welled up again inside her, and she felt the sting of tears behind her eyes as her throat closed tightly. "Oh, Peter, If we'd lost him, and Mum -"

Peter was holding her now, tight to his chest in an embrace, which she returned, wrapping arms around his torso and clinging. "I had the same thought when we nearly lost Lucy to that river, and when I saw you and her climbing that tree to escape the wolf." And just before I signaled the charge at Beruna, he thought.

"Oh, Peter," Susan sobbed. "What will we do?" Peter shushed her, gently pulling her to him as she cried. When she was finished, she looked him in the eyes. "All this time, since we got to Narnia, I kept thinking we'd be going home soon. After we found Mr. Tumnus, after we got to Aslan, after, after, after. I didn't ever think that we'd stay here -"

She trailed off. "Forever," Peter finished for her, nodding.

"But now I'm a queen, Peter," she continued. "And Lucy, and you and Ed are kings, and we can't just leave. I don't even want to, and that makes it all worse, because then I think of poor old Mum."

Peter sighed, and looked out over the sleeping landscape, to the towers of Cair Paravel where the red banners of the Lion fluttered softly, lifted by night zephyrs blowing in from the gently lapping Eastern sea.

Susan asked him: "Didn't you expect we would go home when it was all over?"

Peter smiled, thoughtfully, leaning forward against the ramparts. "Home? I don't know, Susan. If I'm perfectly honest, since the second we first tumbled through that wardrobe behind Lucy I began to feel Narnia pulling me. In a way she feels more like home to me than home ever did."

"I know," replied Susan. "I feel it too. It's why we stayed to help, after all. It's only when I think of Mum I feel guilty."

"Susan," he began. "Queen Susan." He spoke now with the solemn authority she had begun to see in him since he had accepted Aslan's charge to lead the Battle.

Aslan had done great things for Edmund, but he had done them for Peter, too.

Peter was speaking to her. "I love Mum, Susan, as much as you do. But we are here now, in Narnia. and it feels more real to me than anything we knew on the other side of the wardrobe. And they need us here, Susan, and love us." Already, Narnia had grown in Peter, and the spare room and the wardrobe were beginning to fade from memory. "And Aslan will watch over Mum."

Susan sighed, releasing her worries to the night breeze. "And it's good that we are here."

"It's good we are here," High King Peter echoed. Then he yawned, and suddenly he was just Peter again. "You coming in? I'm off to bed." He moved along the ramparts to the stairs that led back into the castle. Susan remained for a moment, gazing over the ramparts across the land that stretched before her eyes to the Western horizon. She breathed deeply, and smiled. then she turned and followed her brother inside.

Peter could see the sense in it, so he didn't complain, but he could help feeling that it was a bit much that one should leave being a schoolboy behind, pick up a sword, lead a battle to victory, be crowned a king, only to return to being a schoolboy again. Yet here he was, once again sitting at a desk studying geography and history and the like, only now, the books were Narnian, and not English.

Edmund did not seem to mind, though Peter had expected him to complain. Rather, the younger boy took to his studies in a way he never had back in England. He seemed to truly enjoy learning about Narnia, especially her history and traditions. Again, Peter did see the value in such knowledge, and dutifully learned with the rest. But he couldn't claim he loved it.

Irritatingly enough, Susan also seemed to apply herself with real joy to learning. She seemed to prefer those histories specific to Cair Paravel and Narnian royalty before the time of Jadis. At least Lucy seemed to side with Peter when it came to feelings on these manditory daily reading periods. In her own words, lessons were still lessons, and that they were Narnian lessons only made it a tiny bit better to be stuck inside reading dull books on geography. Peter often caught her eye as the two looked up from their books to gaze helplessly around the library or out of the window and into the gardens beyond.

She would much rather have been outside romping with their Cousins (as Peter had learned in history was the affectionate way in which kings and queens of Narnia spoke to their people). If it had been up to him, he would have allowed her to do so. He tended to agree with Lucy when she claimed that she would learn more about Narnia by talking and playing with actual Narnians, rather than from dusty old books. But since the task of their education had been placed in the hands of a worthy, if rigid old faun named Finris, how Lucy learned her lessons was not Peter's decision to make. In addition, these "dusty old books" as Lucy called them had been lovingly gathered and donated from secret collections of the Cousins, sheltered from the Witch by their families every day for one hundred years, waiting for this time. The Cair Library, too, had held a collection of books, which with no one to care for them were worn and torn by the ravages of time and insects, but nevertheless, contained loads of important information in their tattered pages.

The only lessons Peter truly enjoyed were his training sessions in the courtyard. He took to the art of combat and battle as a born musician might take to an instrument. Also aside from his natural aptitude for it, and the importance that he learn it, Peter was still a boy of thirteen, with energy to burn that was much better spent on the training grounds than here in the quiet library.

Lucy was leaning over her book, which appeared to be a book on the history of the kings of Archenland. That single text was proof of the value of this quiet study - already the four young rulers had discovered that Narnia was not a country alone, that beyond her borders lay isles and countries that were the homes of men and giants. And yet, Lucy could not, apparently, give herself to the story of the second line of Frank and Helen chronicled in such depth before her eyes. Instead, her head lifted, and she smiled at a small blue butterfly, a visitor from the garden, that had fluttered in on the fresh air wafting through the large, North-facing open window. Peter caught her eye as her face lowered, and he winked at her.

He began a serious of carefully calculated sneezes, blasting a volley of sound through the still library. Startled, Finris turned from where he had been shelving a large collection of language texts, eyes wide behind his small spectacles. Peter's sneezes continued violently on. Susan looked up in annoyance, though Edmund's head stayed fixed downwards, his reading apparently uninterrupted by the sudden explosion of noise.

Then Lucy caught on, bustling forward purposefully, her little voice ringing out. "It must be your allergies, Peter, come on -"

"The dust - in these books -" Peter replied, dramatically, desperately squeezing tears from his squinting eyes.

"Come on, Peter," Lucy took her brother's hand in her small one and lead him out of the library, where, as if by magic, Peter's sneezes stopped and he grinned mischievously at Lucy.

"Must have been the dust. I think after all that I'll need a walk by the water. For half an hour, at least, I'd say."

"Peter, that was very naughty of you," Lucy scolded, wagging her finger and looking exactly like a miniature version of their mother, before she threw her arms around his waist. "But, oh thank you! I don't think I could have borne another minute in there. Do you think Finris will be very cross with us when he finds out we're gone?"

Peter shrugged. "If he isn't, Susan will be. Mostly with me, I expect, either way. I couldn't take any more of Groger's Guide to Narnian Flora and Fauna any longer. Let's go down and take a look at that cave you found on the South end of the beach."

Oldest brother and youngest sister spent a lovely afternoon together. And before dinner, Peter found himself, still with the sand in his breeches rubbing against his legs, standing in his chambers while Susan stalked him, eyes blazing.

"How could you?" She did not seem at all Gentle now. There was a fight brewing between them, and Peter matched his sister's gaze, fire with fire.

"It was one afternoon of fun, Susan, really," he darted back.

"Oh, that's all it was?" She snapped. "I guess you've forgotten that the delegation from Archenland arrived three days from now?"

"Of course I didn't forget. Don't be ridiculous. But one afternoon away from the books isn't going to make or break any relations we might have with Archenland."

Susan rolled her eyes. "Really, I suppose you know everything about Archenland then. You're all ready for when the delegation from King Lune arrives?"

"Maybe I am. Besides, I've still got tomorrow and the next day to prepare." Peter tossed back.

"Tomorrow and the day after we need to make other preparations. Make sure we have quarters for them, that we have a menu prepared, that -"

"Mr. Tumnus is Lord Chamberlain, now, Susan. That's his job, too. You don't have to do it all, you know."

"We should still oversee the plans. This is the first foreign delegation to Narnia in a century, Peter. It's important. Besides, apparently I have to do it all, and Edmund, since you and Lucy are too busy exploring the caves and what-not." She rolled her eyes, deprecatingly.

"You don't have to do it all, Susan," Peter was fighting back in earnest now, his voice beginning to climb. He did his best to pull it back down. They were alone in his room, but he didn't want the rest of the castle to hear their High king and Gentle Queen going at each other like a pair of angry tigers. "It's just that you and Ed like reading about all this stuff, and Lu and I -"

"Like?" Demanded Susan. "You think I like it? That I wouldn't rather be running down the beach with you and Lucy, or that Edmund wouldn't rather? No Peter, but Edmund knows and I know that we can't mess this up! We're reading so we have a head start, so we can properly greet the Archenlanders and host them here without risking offence to anyone. We want good relationships at our borders don't we? Allies?"

"Of course, Susan," Peter snapped. "Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot."

"Forgive me if I fail to see how one afternoon is going to ruin our chance at building allies!"

"Oh, well I suppose it doesn't matter at all then if Narnia's high king makes a complete fool of himself in front of the first foreign delegation to arrive at Cair Paravel."

"Susan-" Peter growled.

"Or that you show a bad influence to Lucy and shirk your duty and leave me and Edmund to have to do it all!" With that, Susan burst into tears, and Peter's anger deflated like a punctured balloon. Not because she was crying, but because he finally understood what had been bothering her all along.

"I'm sorry, Su," he began. "I was selfish, and I won't do it again."

"You're -" Susan looked up in surprise. "What?"

"I'm sorry. You're right, I was selfish. I wasn't thinking of you or Ed and how worried you must be leading up to this meeting. It's important and I should have taken it more seriously, and taken some of this from your shoulders. And I should have been a better example for our little sister," He spoke sincerely, and Susan sniffed, wiping her eyes and looking at him, anger ebbing away.

"Peter, it's so much."

"I know it is, Su, but Aslan is with us. And I'll do better, promise. I'll make up the hour tomorrow - I'll get up an hour before training and read up on what I missed this afternoon, and then I'll be there when Mr. Tumnus plans the arrival arrangements for our guests."

"I want Narnia to look as strong and beautiful to them as it does to us, Peter."

"It will, Susan."

She sniffled, and smiled at him. "Thank you, Peter. I'm sorry I lost my temper."

"It's alright, Susan. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For helping me to see where I can be better."

Narnia was growing Peter. Susan gave him a hug, and turned to leave before she remembered something. "You should talk to Edmund. He's picking up on all of this information wonderfully." Peter nodded, and Susan made her exit.

He would see Edmund tonight, but first, the sand in his breeches was becoming unbearable. Closing his door behind his sister, he turned and made his way to the small chamber attached to his bedroom, where light glinted off walls tiled with white shell and shimmering grey river stone. His valet, Silvius, (to whose presence Peter was still growing accustomed) had discreetly drawn a steaming bath during Peter's exchange with Susan. Gratefully, he slid into the water and allowed himself to enjoy half an hour of peace.

Clean, and all invading sand extricated from his person, Peter slid into the cool linen nightshirt that Silvius had left for him, and a heavy robe in rich burgundy velvet and a pair of matching slippers. With the robe and slippers, he felt a little like Professor Kirke, but he was comfortable, clean, and cozy as he slipped out of his room. Edmund's room was on the other side of the tower, down a corridor and up a short flight of steps. His brother's solid oak door was closed. Peter knocked, after a moment's hesitation.

"Come in?" Edmund was still awake. Peter pushed on the heavy door, and unlatched, it swung open. Edmund was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a book on his lap, looking quite small in the arms of his massive four-poster. He had gathered a thick blue blanket over his legs, and he wore a nightshirt similar to Peter's, but no robe. The younger king looked up at his brother, and snickered.

"You actually wear yours," he remarked,gesturing to the robe and slippers. "I feel too much like the Professor in mine."

"It's comfortable," Peter retorted, a little defensively.

"Looks like it," Edmund answered. "Susan reamed you out, then?"

"Yeah. Did you hear us?"

Edmund waved at his heavy door. "Not a peep. I just know Susan."

Peter let out a long breath through his nose. "I owe you an apology, Ed. I haven't been applying myself properly."

"Is that what she said? Oh."

"It's true."

Edmund shrugged. "She's awfully hot and bothered over the delegation from Archenland."

Peter sat on the bed beside Edmund. "She's right when she says it's important."

Edmund broke into a smile. "Yeah, but she's also mental. Don't forget, Peter, she's still Susan Pevensie, and Susan Pevensie is a first-class perfectionist. Watch, two days from now she'll be having a fit over what colour of towels to put in the guest chambers."

Peter had to laugh. "I suppose you're right. But doesn't change things Ed. I'm a king now and I can't behave like I'm back in the Lower 4th. Susan is right that I need to apply myself to studying."

Edmund shrugged again. "I suppose so."

"I'm getting up an hour earlier tomorrow morning, to catch up on the reading."

Edmund groaned. "That's bloody miserable." The boys were already woken at half-past-five for pre-breakfast training. Peter would have to be up hideously early tomorrow.

It was Peter's turn to shrug. "Yes, but I have to make it up to her."

A grin spread across Edmund's freckled face. "I could let you do that," he began slowly. "Or -" he slid off the bed and went to his mahogany desk, opening a drawer and retrieving a small brown notebook. "I could let you have a look at this."

He handed the book to Peter. Opening it, the older boy gasped. "What an absolute brick you are, Ed! This is wonderful." Edmund's notebook contained a score of pages marked with finely-written notes, all on the kingdom of Archenland, with short, concise summaries on important names, dates, places, and facts.

"I'm thinking of compiling a book one day," Edmund said. "A Survival Guide for Narnian Kings. Could be quite useful."

"I'll say!" Peter exclaimed. "Edmund, thank you. Susan was right, you are wonderful with this stuff."

"I like reading the books," Edmund replied, casually. "And I know how much you hate wading through chapters and chapters just for a few key facts."

"Oh, Ed," Peter said, throwing an arm around his brother's shoulders. "You're marvelous. You make a much better king than I."

Edmund's face darkened. "Don't say that."

Peter drew back. " I didn't mean anything by it. What's the matter?"

Edmund said nothing.

"Ed? What's wrong? You've been quiet the last couple weeks."

Edmund sighed, adjusting his position on the bed. "Don't say I make a better king. I don't even know why Aslan made me a king, after everything."

"Ed -" Peter began.

"I keep looking around, wondering when someone will bring it up. They must be thinking it. Three weeks ago I was - I was prepared to sell Narnia for -" Edmund spat his last words. "Sweets. And now I'm a king."

"When Aslan died for you, that was forgiveness, Edmund," Peter said quietly.

"From him, maybe. But from them? I don't think I could bear it if anyone did bring it up, Peter. That's why I stay quiet. And the reading gives me an excuse." Both brothers were silent.

"Listen Edmund, Peter answered, after some thought. "Neither of us can control the minds of individual Narnians, and I'd be lying if I said I thought there weren't any who might harbour some - feelings about what happened when we first came to Narnia."

"My treason, you mean." Edmund followed, bluntly pointing out what Peter had danced around.

"It has been forgiven, Edmund," Peter returned emphatically. "And don't forget you're not the only one of Aslan's supporters that gave information to the Witch."

"They were afraid for their lives, Peter," Edmund said. "I was just being a beast." Peter sighed. This conversation was not going the way he had hoped it would.

"Whatever you were, Edmund, you are forgiven now. Aslan knows what is best for Narnia and would not have made you king unless that was what was best! Besides," he added more softly, desperately hoping Edmund would understand him. "You nearly gave your life for her in the end."

Edmund was quiet.

"That's a sign of a king," Peter said, softly. "You faced the Witch, and you broke her wand. And you saved my life, too. So thank you, King Edmund, for your great service. "

Edmund bowed his dark head as if in prayer, and Peter blessed his head. "May you always serve Narnia with such nobility." The High King whispered.

King Edmund lifted his face. "And you my king," he answered, solemnly.

"Your fault has been twice repaid, Edmund. First by Aslan on the stone table, then by the blood you shed at Beruna. I can't claim to have given so much."

"Peter -" Edmund began.

"Good night, Edmund. Thank you for the book. And sleep well." Peter smiled, and slipped out of Edmund's room, closing the door softly behind him. Edmund shook his head, and placed the book he had been reading on his side table, marking his place with a piece of leather. He turned down the thick indigo covers on his bed and slid beneath them, letting his whole body relax into the soft mattress. In the end, Peter's words had been a comfort. He was forgiven, and he wanted to remember that. For Aslan's sake, and for Peter's, he resolved hold his head up in the halls of Cair Paravel tomorrow.

But Peter's wrong about himself, he thought, as he began to drift to sleep, the image of an army moving across the fields of Beruna, sharp as an arrowhead towards the Witch and her hordes. And at its very tip, alone, the first to hurl himself at Narnia's enemies, rode Peter, the sun glinting off his sword like fire as he held it aloft.

Edmund slept.

Next morning, Peter arrived three minutes late to their early training, looking bleary-eyed and fastening the buttons of his jerkin as he ran. After his stern dressing-down, courtesy of General Oreius, he and Edmund were ordered to spend the first half hour of the session running up and down the full flight of stairs - all two hundred steps - in the East tower.

"Sorry," Peter muttered as they jogged towards the tower door. "I think I put him in a bad mood."

"Stayed up a bit late, did we?" Edmund poked.

Peter grinned. "Fancied a bit of late-night reading."

"Ah," nodded Edmund, knowingly. "One of those authors who's just too good to put down."

Peter laughed. Oreius bellowed at them to silence and the training began in earnest.

At the end of the session, they had run up and down the tower thrice, sparred, wrestled, and practiced lifting greatswords they would not be able to wield in battle for half a decade yet. The exhausted kings collapsed on a stone bench, and Oreius handed them a full waterskin to share.

"Good work, today, your majesties," he grunted, approvingly. "King Peter, for having a late start today you met the challenges with vigour. And King Edmund," the centaur shifted his gaze, and Edmund straightened in his seat, expectantly. "An excellent training session today, your majesty. I have not yet seen you apply yourself like that. Keep up the good work."

Edmund glowed, and Peter, catching his eye beamed back at him. Edmund mouthed at his brother, Thanks.

"And now, to breakfast!" Peter cried, raising an exhausted arm in triumph, only to discover to his chagrin the smell that lingered beneath his arm. He wrinkled his nose. "On second thought, perhaps a quick swim first."