A/N: As some of you know, I've set out a personal challenge for myself: write one Chronicles of Narnia fanfic for every Trading Yesterday (my favorite group in the world!...well, before they changed the name/sound...) song existing, and this is the first finished testament to that! I hope you like it!
Basis for this fic: I LOVE sibling bonding between the Pevensies to DEATH, and I couldn't resist tying in how this song works for Peter's relationship with each of his siblings! Thus, this is a Peter/Multiple Siblings fic, if that makes any sense. As always, NO this is NOT incest (no offense to those whom like it)!
Basis for this chapter: I really needed to work on my Pete/Su bonding, seeing as I don't do nearly enough of it, and then, I thought of how stinking well this first verse most likely fit Su's feelings in PC when Peter fought Miraz, so...I took what I could get! Really, I'm happy with this, though I think the ending's too rushed... Sorry! I'm very tired (even though it's 3 in the afternoon and I've gotten at least 9 hours of sleep the last two nights...) and I don't really know how to end it, and I don't want to bore you to tears with my retelling of the war effort, so...if it IS too rushed, please tell me! I'll do my best to improve it (if possible)!
Disclaimer: If I owned Narnia, I would be the HAPPIEST person on Earth (NO, I'm not joking in the slightest)!! Thus, all rightful places, names, events, etc., belong to Walden Media, C.S. Lewis, and anyone else affiliated! (Can't WAIT for VDT next year!! *jumps up and down, smiling maniacally* I just PRAY they listen to the fans' pleas not to change the storyline!)
"Blinding darkness surrounds me
And I am reaching for you only
This hopelessness that drowns
All that I believe
Will be the one thing that I need
For you only"
~"For You Only" by Trading Yesterday
The respite had just begun, and Peter's face twisted at the pain in his injured shoulder as he dragged himself forward, Edmund immediately running up to help him. The elder boy was thankful for his brother's support and threw his unharmed arm over his shoulders, but suddenly went a shade paler than he had been a second ago, eyes fixed on something straight ahead and expression anxious beyond even present reasoning.
Fearfully, Edmund followed his High King's gaze to see Susan and Caspian riding in on horseback. When they did not recognize the horse as Destrier, the one on which they had sent their sisters and Caspian had assured them was safe, all injuries and concerns were forgotten for the most pressing matter:
Where was Lucy?
Peter asked the same in a panicked voice as Caspian dismounted and helped Susan to the ground, and the Gentle Queen answered as she stood before her Magnificent King, slightly out of breath. The Telmarine boy was out of breath, too... The fourteen-year-old's eyes hardened and jaw set protectively. There had been a struggle, then.
"She got through…with a little help."
As he breathed out in unimagined relief at the news that his youngest sister was safe, Peter felt faint and nearly let himself succumb to his exhaustion, pain, and momentary joy. Yet, as he felt Edmund's grip tighten around him in an effort to both comfort him and sustain his upright position, he realized now was not the time or place. He would get his chance to unwind when all of this was over.
Looking to Caspian, he paid the mere thirteen-year-old the respect he deserved, blue eyes shining with indebted tears; he remembered how scary it had been to be a King of such tender years, and he couldn't be prouder of the boy chosen to take his place.
"Thanks." To be thanked by the High King of Narnia was a thing of legend itself, but to be thanked by him for saving both of his royal sisters as his eyes housed unashamed tears in the middle of a duel…the recipient of the regard had never felt so unworthy, while simultaneously so ecstatic.
Hiding his clashing emotions impressively well for the sake of the current situation, Caspian removed his riding gloves from his hands while speaking, looking his idol and friend directly in the eyes.
"Well, you were busy." There was a slight chuckle, smile, in the answer, but he quickly sobered. Edmund offered him a kind, humorous grin, nodding faintly in acknowledgment of the jest, for he himself had been quite the hilarious King in their time and was secretly delighted to find another sharer of his love for wittily serious royalty.
Smiling a last time at the boy-forced-man, Peter turned to Susan, who stared at him expectantly, face pale with the anticipation of the battle ahead. He frowned a bit, and she gave him a weary smile; already, she was wishing for this horror story to be finished. He regretted his next words more than anything else, knowing with the crushing guilt that always came that he wouldn't be able to grant such a thing without some form of carnage.
"You'd better get up there, just in case. I don't expect the Telmarines will keep their word."
She looked around quickly, uneasily, chancing the barest glance past him at Miraz and the other members of the opposition. Glancing up at him searchingly, she was much paler than she had been prior, nearly a stark white compared to her earlier rose-quartz complexion.
Stepping forward swiftly, she hugged him tightly with one arm; Edmund had moved out of the way long ago after making sure his brother would be able to stand on his own, easily discerning what would come to pass. He had seen this so many times during their reign that the appropriate movements were second nature for him now.
Sniffing in the blatant, battle-worn scent with which she had been forced to get familiar as a girl, the old sentiments came back as well. She hated and loved the smell all at once: in one moment, it signified how lucky she was that he was there at all; the next, it reflected just how close she had come to losing him yet again.
Suddenly aware of his scrunched face and clenched teeth, frozen breath and stiff back, she realized she should pull away. He had been hurt in the span of the fight already, and she could very well be making the damage worse. All the same, her body seemed unnaturally willful, arm having a mind of its own as memories flashed across her mind.
Other battles from which they had come home throughout the years: first him, then him and Edmund, and then, Lucy with them. All of them covered in blood and sweat, a lot of times not having time to stop at a creek to wash themselves or very often eat the provisions she'd packed. Hugs and kisses and tears would mark both their departures and returns, one of the countless things that had never changed for them, no matter how old they were or how many battles they fought. By some miracle, they had always come back to her, and she couldn't help but hope as hard as she could for the same phenomenon to happen here, thirteen hundred years later.
The vivid remembrances of a battered Peter coming home to Cair Paravel, a tired and sometimes wounded Lucy and Edmund trailing behind, finally compelled her to take control. Slowly, very slowly, she relinquished her hold.
Peering up at him, she struggled to blink away the tears that had formed without her knowing by the time his eyes, though clouded with pain, opened and cleared enough to recognize the droplets for what they were.
"Sorry…" Her voice betrayed her and shook, quiet against her will for it to sound strong for him. He didn't seem to mind, however, as his eyelids lifted, and he tried his hardest to smile through evident physical torment. He did admirably well; he had been through far, far worse, after all.
"That's all right." It wasn't, though. He was going to be risking his life, her big brother, and all she could do was wait and watch for possible treachery. It wasn't fair… But then, since when had war ever been fair? Since when had it ever been just or gentle or valiant or…or magnificent?
She couldn't remember a time, and as tears flooded her eyes again, she thought back to the nights when her siblings would wake, screaming and crying and occasionally vomiting from horridly lucid nightmares. It wasn't meant to be fair, wasn't meant to be just or gentle or valiant or magnificent.
"Be careful." She meant it, as her tone and face depicted, and though the words chiseled at her already fragile heart, she could not leave them unsaid. He cracked a small smile at the well-received warning.
One hand still rested on his lower arm as she gazed into his fiercely calm, determined eyes. The tears had long ago faded from them, though the lovingly protective, always present light hadn't; it never did, had never left since their first second in Narnia so long ago.
She could see that he was scared, see it in his eyes, posture, and taut visage, feel it in his tense muscles, hear it in his rapidly beating heart. All over, she was reminded of his place as High King, as eldest brother, and there was a sudden fray within her.
The only thing he wanted was for all of them to be safe, she and Edmund and Lucy, and if he had to sacrifice himself for them…he would do it. That had always been his way, the thing that had made him such a beloved King in the first place: the fact that he would never leave his siblings hanging, never leave them unguarded or alone. He would be there for them, despite anything and everything that might thwart him along the way. He would keep them as safe as he could for as long as he could, and that was the last of it.
It frightened her to no end, always had, and though she had been compelled to accept that fact about him long ago, it was indescribably more difficult to stomach after an entire year away from a place that demanded such things.
Swallowing the lump and jumping sobs in her throat, she pushed back the many tears in her eyes and wiped away the ones that had unknowingly streamed down her cheeks.
She kept her face down. Having shamed herself and her brother by crying for him, by showing weakness to the idea that he might not make it out alive, who was she to lift her head and stare proudly into the blue eyes of her High King, let alone their oppressors?
She was no one.
Two gentle, bare fingers curled under her chin and tenderly forced it upward, and she found herself peering into Peter's strong countenance.
He had removed both of the gloves covering the hand of his uninjured arm, mail and armor alike, when she'd begun to cry. He had been worried, surely, but he had also been through this too many times to count in their twenty-eight years of loving one another, and so, was more than prepared.
"Aslan help me, Su, haven't you any faith in me?" He was gentle in his words, laughing almost, and the thirteen-year-old Queen bit her lip in infamy. She tried to dip her head, but he firmed his grip on her chin. "I've survived millions of duels, and though it's come close, I've always made it, right?"
She opened her mouth to protest, eyes flashing and filling with tears dangerously, wanting desperately to know how that possibly made it any better, but he wasn't about to be stopped. His voice lowered volumes and octaves, and his own orbs and face became deathly serious.
"Then, you know how you can help me now. It isn't by your tears or love that I can be saved, despite my desires otherwise," His eyes shone, face brighter than she'd seen it in a year and days. His tone was excited, enthused, when he spoke next. "I've found Aslan again, Susan, and as long as I trust in Him, I have faith that I'll be fine!"
Looking her levelly in the eye, he spoke carefully, comprehending his sister's across-world struggle with Aslan.
"You know, too, don't you?"
Nodding her head vigorously, she let out a strangled sob and closed her eyes as a few tears involuntarily fell. Affectionately, empathetically, he let go of her chin to wipe them from her red cheeks with his thumbs, leaning in to whisper lowly and warmly in the young Queen's ear.
"It is vital that you once more allow Him entrance into your heart, Sister. He loves you, and He merely needs to see you are willing to believe for Him to begin the Work. Believe, and undoubtedly, I shall be here always."
Pulling back, she stared into his face and soothed instantly. His features were serene, confident, and though he was still scared, there was no shame in that. It was a natural feeling; a beautifully human, beautifully alive feeling that she would cherish as long as she was meant to live.
"I love you, you know." The relaxed, slow smile that overtook his lips as she brushed the backs of her tender fingers against his cheek swelled each of their hearts.
Yes, he knew. He had always known, forever would know, that she loved him, and if he did end up dying today, he would gladly praise the Lion for letting it be the last thing he felt.
Watching his face soften to look more peaceful than seemed possible in his circumstance, she resolved to follow her brother's advice and thank Him for it when all wasn't so serious.
"Keep smiling." Edmund's abrupt, discreet mumble startled his siblings from their world and brought them back to Narnia. Following his flickering, dark gaze, Susan and Peter saw the Narnians whispering to each other worriedly, anxious for the condition of their High King.
Following his younger brother's orders, the boy-man raised his sword high into the air and forced a smile onto his lips, stretched with pain though it was; it appeared the agony of his left arm had been remembered, and he, perspiring and exhausted anew, tried to keep such testimonies from those whom looked to him for guidance and strength.
It seemed to work, for the descendants of his people broke out in loud, spirited cheers immediately, relieved and eagerly rooting for the Ancient Sovereign and his continued good health, even if the ones closest in proximity to him could see the slightest tremor of limbs and twitch of grinning cheeks.
The two eldest of the Pevensies, of the Kings and Queens of Old of Narnia, cast each other a glance that was caught and familiar, a truth in this current web of lies. Rushing past her brothers, their future successor, and Centaur marshal, she ran into the How and through the many passages until she was standing with the rest of the archers on its top.
Her bow in one hand, her free one ready to draw an arrow from her quiver when required, she noticed the others were equally equipped. Eyes fixed on the small, far-away shape of her brother as he sat on a column stub, she flinched at his agony and scream as Edmund suddenly popped his shoulder back into its socket with one, swift motion. Then, she began to pray.
Dear Aslan, forgive me. I have lost faith in You after just one year.
I fear for my brother now, Your High King over all Narnia, Peter the Magnificent, walking straight into death as he may be. He has told me I must believe in You as he does, as Edmund has, as Lucy eternally will, if he is to survive.
Truly, I have wanted to believe again for the longest time, but I have not allowed my heart the dare of hoping. I had been hoping for the past year, and nothing had come of it until a few days ago.
I have been weak, that I see, and I cannot begin to know how to repent.
I remember conversations with my sister, Your Valiant Queen Lucy of the Eastern Sea, in which we would discuss what should happen if our eldest brother were to fall. She always had such faith that he would be all right because of You, and I believed it as well, clung to it with all I was.
I blamed You for these last twelve months, namely the final six, and all of the misfortune that had befallen my family within that time. I blamed You for the changes that occurred in Peter, how hostile and ultimately alien he had become; I blamed You for Edmund's injuries each time Lucy and I assisted him in caring for them, which we only had to do because he stubbornly refused to cease in his efforts to help Peter; I blamed You for the months of tears Lucy cried, how guilty she was and continues to be for, as she calls it, 'leading us out of Narnia'; and I blamed You for my regression, the way I fell back on solitude to save what was left of my heart.
I realize now how selfish I was. I had done everything but save my heart: I had hardened it, crystallized it into unbreakable, yet unsupported stone. I was unprepared to need You again, I admit; I am ashamed of it, though never more than You know.
I am sorry.
I have asked this many times, I know, but I cannot recall a time when I was so earnest as now. Preservation of the High King is all I request, I pray the sole thing I shall have to ask of You for a time yet. He, along with the rest of my siblings, is my world, as You understand well.
We need him. I need him.
Please, do Your will, but I beg it includes my brother's living person.
Her prayer finished, she found herself checking back in after having psychologically retreated from the duel. Blinking her tear-filled eyes, she cleared her vision enough to assess the situation.
Miraz and Peter were facing each other, both more beaten and sweaty than before, both without helmets and the High King without his shield. She had been so absorbed in her plea that she'd missed perhaps the most critical moments…
Or maybe not.
Her breath caught as the Telmarine usurper went down on his knees. Peter walked patiently to and fro before him, hopeful that he could trust the man as they each regained a little of their strength; even with only a side-view of her brother, she could read him flawlessly after years of practice.
The twitch of his hand on his sword hilt personified his warrior's instinct to kill the man, revealing just a fraction of the extent to which it was fighting to be released. She knew Peter was much too honorable and disciplined to let it win, to let it overtake him as he had seen happen to many a soldier on either side during the battles of their reign. No…he would rather die looking into his assailant's eyes and watch the guilt of murdering someone they supposed a mere boy cloud their orbs.
His heartbeat was quick, respiring deeply to regulate its erratic rhythm, and his face was incredibly pale and tight with recalled warfare. He could not see past the bearded, outwardly older face; in reality, Peter would have been just one year older…
She scared herself as a shiver ran down her spine, and she closed her eyes and grit her teeth. A small, gentle movement, a side-step closer to her, caused her to start quietly and turn to her left.
Trumpkin, the gruff Red Dwarf whom had been their ally and guide since the beginning, had his warm, armor-clad knee just brushing her shin, leaving more than enough room to still be considered respectful of a Narnian Queen of Old.
This contact was something she never would have expected from him with anyone except Lucy, but he was offering comfort in her hour of need, and she was grateful. Giving him a tiny, appreciative smile, she bent down to kiss him inconspicuously on the forehead before standing straight and gazing back at the object of her anxiety. If she had not redirected her attention so quickly, she would have gotten the opportunity to see the Dwarf's face adopt a shade darker than his already redder-than-red hair.
It would appear as if Edmund was feeling the same anxiety as she, for his sudden, sharp yell rang loudly across the sparring ground, even echoing so far as to reach her ears.
"This is no time for chivalry, Peter!" He, Just King or no, was most correct: he had more of a right to reprimand their brother than she, as he and Lucy had been the ones with him in nearly every war that had taken place over the course of their fifteen-year rule.
She'd always stayed behind at Cair Paravel to oversee everything, having never dealt with blood or death well; they were much more suited for war, the three others of her family, though she had never been able to get over her fear that each time they left home alive would be the last.
Now, it seemed that the memories of those immensely guilt-and-fear-filled times of potential death were weighing heavily on not just her shoulders. She wondered if Lucy had found Aslan yet…? Lion's Mane, she hoped so.
As she watched Miraz suddenly attack Peter from behind, she gasped loudly in helpless fright and took two steps forward, forgetting her location and status. Yet, her people did not hold it against her, knowing well what she was going through, and Trumpkin jumped one footfall ahead with an arm outstretched in front of her, barring her from going any further toward the sheer drop to death.
Never taking her eyes off of her brother, her face showed recognition of the things meant to keep her sane, and her dimmed eyes became bright again. Blue orbs narrowed and palms sweaty, one fist was clenched as the other gripped her bow. He would regain himself in time… Please, Aslan, let him come to himself in time…
At a warning cry from Edmund, the High King collected himself enough to spin and slash down sideways, causing a great bellow to arise from the unlawful monarch. Even from this distance, Susan could see the dark, red patch of blood on the flat rocks beneath the duelers' feet. Miraz's lower leg had been torn open: he was incapacitated.
Maybe…maybe this was it; maybe they'd finally won. As she hastily wiped the sweat from her bow and firmed her grip on it, she begged it was so. For Peter's sake.
From the beginning, this hadn't been easy, and somehow, she had the distinct feeling things weren't about to let up quite yet.
How she hated it when she was right…
Lord Sopespian walked forward with a confidence and smug smile that unnerved Susan as he helped the fallen King to his feet. While they appeared to simply be exchanging words in the next few seconds, she did not relax. Something just didn't look right; the man at the King's disposal seemed much too satisfied with the outcome of the duel so far, stopping the General from committing treachery as he had most likely been commanded, and...there was something hungry in his face...
Miraz stiffened prior to going limp in the Lord's arms, crashing heavily to the ground less than an instant later. One of her arrows stuck out from his back; he had been killed by one of his own, his most trusted companion, and she knew what was coming next. Sopespian turned and began shouting in a rehearsed voice to the Telmarine army that their King had been murdered in an act of treachery, rallying them against the whole of Old Narnia.
A man lunged for Peter, but he was quickly decapitated by the more superior warrior, and the real war finally began as the Telmarine army charged.
She counted in her head atop the How as she knew the High King was doing below with Edmund at his side, Caspian uttering the same underground. She got to seven, steeled herself, and called out to her archers, commanding in a tone no one, not even her family, had heard in a year:
"Take your aim!" They followed her into position, Trumpkin yelling out something about 'staying with them', the Telmarines, but she was focused on her older brother. She couldn't hear anything over the catapults' loads crashing all around them, the drumming of over a thousand hooves on the ground: the same ground that, in another second, caved in beneath the lot of them. "Now!"
The arrows flew, striking many dead and others wounded, a few poor, witless horses dying along with their riders. She wished the creatures well, for they had unknowingly belonged to the wrong side.
She felt in the air the resounding after-hum of Peter's order to attack, and the Narnians immediately sprang forth, battle cries from long ago flitting to mix with the new ones. Her people were willing, always had been willing, to die for their country, and it scared her to think of how many would actually meet such a fate today.
The earth opened cleanly on the far left and right of the currently panicking Telmarine army, Caspian leading them on Destrier, and they flooded the force from the back, choking them with their able numbers. Peter allowed his marshals to race ahead of him, but he was the next to rush into the throng of battle, killing several Telmarine soldiers before Susan turned her eyes to find Edmund.
Her youngest brother, crossbow in hand, mounted a horse. The weapon was something foreign, though far more deadly, to her primitive people, and she observed him in no little fascination as he slew many. In the few wars in which she'd participated, she'd never had the time to watch her brothers kill before; it was a wonder that they hadn't gone mad on her yet.
She was sure, if Lucy had been there, she would have been fighting right alongside her brothers, just as fierce or most likely fiercer as she fought for her beloved land.
It had terrified her endlessly during their rule, as she was realizing it still did, that her sister would one day meet her match in battle, ultimately sending her to a premature death. Yet, each time she had been proved wrong, she'd thanked Aslan and her brothers fervently, knowing the mortal ones had only been able to prevent such a tragedy because of Him.
She saw Peter freeze suddenly after slitting a man's throat and used her vantage point to her liking: nine new regiments seemed to have come out of nowhere, hiding out in the woods until their position benefited their cause. Once more, General Glozelle marched with them, though the true mastermind was no doubt smirking evilly as he surveyed his progress.
She had no time to let her eyes or thoughts darken with hate for the man as Caspian signaled to the archer-Dwarf-carrying Griffins perched behind her, which flew toward the enemy and were proficient in avoiding the boulders and oddly knife-like, mockingly eagle-headed weapons thrust at them.
A number of them began to fall, however, as the reinforcement troops marched closer, and more catapults and the indistinguishable machines that launched the eagle-carved devices popped up in place of footprints.
She became aware of Peter's eyes on her, and she looked back at him, watching him mouth their little sister's name as his voice sounded in her mind. She scanned the area, around the edges, into the trees, and through the middle of the clash, but her heart sank as she saw no sign of either the Great Lion or young Queen. Shaking her head to communicate the same to her waiting brother, he pursed his lips in exasperation.
Swiveling, he instructed the Narnians to retreat back inside the How, but the Telmarines released more boulders, one of them hitting the entrance to the base and blocking it permanently. She cried out for her subjects to brace themselves as rocks nearly grazed some of them, but she found herself screaming for a different reason when a direct hit caused part of the roof to cave in and a Tree to fall, bringing the edge on which she'd been standing down along with it.
Trumpkin made a lunge for her, catching her hand in an appropriate death grip. She felt two pairs of eyes digging into her back, their owners both more worried for her than themselves as they stood idle in the chaos that surrounded them. She spun around to reassure them, Peter and Caspian, the second she landed on the ledge on which Trumpkin had been forced to throw her in order to save her life.
Despite the gap between them, she could see the relieved tears in Peter's eyes. From then on, she gladly fought on the ground.
The following half-hour was blood, sweat, disorder, pain, and death, watching her brothers and Caspian fight all around her as she fought somewhere toward the middle, arrows and even bow alone well put to use.
More and more enemy soldiers trekked from the woods, and the Narnian side didn't appear as if it could take much more. It seemed like it would never end, but suddenly, soldiers on both sides jumped back as something snaked underground and tore up the earth above it.
Her attention was drawn to Caspian, however, as he was assaulted by two Telmarine soldiers and fell backward with a shout into one of the pits made by their cave-in trap. Still, she froze in wonder when, of all things, roots came to the unarmed Prince's rescue as General Glozelle happened upon him.
From all around, other Trees roared from the forest, scaring the Telmarines so badly that quite a few of them fainted on the spot. Peter helped his friend from the ditch and took their moment's rest to walk with the rest of his family and friends, every one peering about in wonder as Peter's face took on a knowing, loving look and turned to the Tenth.
"Lucy." It was simple; it was pure; it was everything.
They were called back to attention as they heard Sopespian order the men to Beruna, and the Kings and Queen of Old and New glanced at each other. This was the Second Battle of Beruna; this was the War of Deliverance; this was the end.
Peter let out a mighty call, one that made Edmund smile like he hadn't in a year, and Susan faintly grinned, too: Edmund remembered it much better than she did, having heard it a lot more. It was their brother's infamous battle cry... How the three younger ones had missed it.
"For Aslan!"
The Narnians echoed the yell with the same reverence, the same loyalty and solidarity, and as she and Peter locked eyes just before they darted forward, she knew she had been right to open her heart to Him again.
Her High King, her eldest brother, had survived a single combat against a man twice his age, and it was because of Him.
She looked up from fording the river to see her sister smiling at her, sheathing her small dagger as she stood beside the Great Lion. She was perfectly fine and so joyful that it brought tears to her eyes, and it was because of Him.
They had won the war, were celebrating their victory and Caspian's coronation in the former Telmarine castle, and it was because of Him.
They were leaving, she and Peter never to return to the only place they knew as home. Through her tears and heartache, through the cloud of depression and desperation that hung over her, she kept one thing close to her heart:
The Son of the Emperor-Over-the-Sea was everything, all she had ever needed and would need.
She loved Him...
And that was her reason for casting him away.
A/N: I was going to leave some Author's Notes explaining a few things, but I can't even remember what most of them are by now... *yawn* So...tired... I'm going to bed now, but if you want anything clarified, please ask/comment on its confusing points in a review! Thanks!