Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia, all characters, places, and related terms belong to C.S. Lewis, and Walden Media and Walt Disney Pictures.
Falling to Pieces
Peter
I kick the horse and it squeals as it leaps off the rising drawbridge, over widening space, to the other side. Once it lands safely on firm ground, I pull desperately on the reins, halting the animal. Twisting in my saddle, I look back.
Dozens of Narnians press themselves to the gate, shouting, eyes wide with fear, desperately reaching arms through the bars. Trapped.
I, their High King, stare back at them. I have fought many battles, lost strong warriors in the past. Never have I been in a situation like this before, though. I can do nothing for these soldiers who pledged to follow me. The drawbridge continue to rise, both widening the gap between me and the gate, and cutting the Narnians from view more and more. For a moment I feel like I will be sick.
I turn away from the sight and urge the horse into a gallop. Shame and grief at having to abandon half the army overwhelms me. However, it lessens when I spot Caspian riding ahead of me. I lift my chin, narrow my eyes, and press my lips into a thin line.
If Prince Caspian had listened to my orders, gone to the gatehouse instead of finding his uncle and almost killing him in revenge, none of this would have happened. The raid would have succeeded. Those soldiers would be alive right now.
It is his entire fault this happened. Some king he will make, if he ever becomes one. What can I do to fix this mess?
Caspian
A burning lump forms in my throat, making it difficult for me to swallow. Horrified, I gaze at the faces of the people I had promised to help, to give back their land. Many of them shout, pleading for help, for us to come back. Some creatures' expressions are accusing, full of betrayal.
This all feels surreal, like a terribly bad dream. I cannot look away as whistles fill the air and the creatures begin to cry out now in pain and fall. Amidst the chaos I lock eyes with one of the centaurs. He is calm, his expression accepting and peaceful. Holding my gaze, he bows his head in salute.
I do not deserve this sign of respect, small though it is; I am only a prince, unworthy and inexperienced.
I ride from my uncle's castle, the centaur's face haunting me, the cries and pleas chasing me relentlessly.
If only, if only… My thoughts whirl in crazy circles: If only King Peter had abandoned the plan when there was time. If only I had not sought out Miraz. I should not be fleeing back to the safety of Aslan's How, I should be trapped in that courtyard, dying with those Narnians. If only I could change things…
Blinking my eyes rapidly, a great ache forms in my chest. How can I ever make a good king? Help me! I silently cry out. Yet none hears me.
Susan
It was not supposed to turn out like this, I think desperately, looking back to the Narnians trapped by the now-closed gate and the rising drawbridge. I did not envision this when I offered to come and put my bow and arrow to use. I did not imagine so much blood and pain, chaos and fear. To lose so many like this.
How I wish my arrows could shatter those iron bars. But my bow and arrows are now useless. I am useless. The only thing I can do is watch.
Peter is the last one to jump off the drawbridge to where I and the others wait safely. For a moment I catch his eye. He appears in shock, at a loss of how to handle the situation. I, whom am known as being logical and rational, cannot give any advice.
Helplessness washes over me for those left behind as Glenstorm starts to retreat along with the others. I cry quietly. If only we had fought at Aslan's How things would be different. I feel so lost. Now what do we do?
Edmund
An eerie silence has fallen, so unexpected, so sudden from earlier. As the gryphon flies low, I am stunned by what I see in the courtyard. It is all still. Filled with weapons and bodies. Even from above and in the nightlight, I can tell many are Narnians.
I feel like I have been punched in the stomach and I instruct the gryphon to quickly circle one more time. Fauns, centaurs, dwarfs, talking beasts, all dead. How did so many fall? I wonder. Then I see the lowered gate.
"Oh," I breathe almost painfully. And I know, too late, it was not worth it. Raiding the castle for Narnia, for Caspian, was not worth it. Pledging to follow Peter, my king, was not worth it.
I think of Lucy, who we left behind at the Aslan's How, gazing up at the relief of Aslan, her eyes pained. I had lingered by her for a moment, until I answered Peter's calling and left with him.
Forgive me, I say in my heart with bowed head. I went into battle without you, Aslan. Forgive me, for to looking to and following my High King, yet not seeking you. Please forgive me for my failing.
I brush the back of my hand over my cheeks and look down at the small army retreating, spotting Caspian, Peter, and Susan among them.
Help us, Aslan!
THE END