Anvard, 1058

For eight years Aravis had lived without her husband. Now she was tired.

Of course Ram had been thankful as he loved both of his parents dearly, and he couldn't bear for one to die within a year of the other. Aravis loved Cor like no one else, but when his time came, she did what would have made him most proud: gathered her grief and carried it, moving on. Her son already had the makings of a great king, greater even than his father had been. Cor's reign began five years after the Narnian monarchs disappeared and ended eight years prior to now. He had died rather suddenly with the cause being attributed to infection, leaving behind a mourning wife and a devastated son.

Now Ram had the same heavy look in his eyes, the same slight difference in posture that betrayed his sorrow.

"You can't! I'm King, and I order you not to!"

It was the only order Ram had given his mother in his life. Eight and twenty years had passed yet he was sometimes still as much a bairn.

"By the Lion, Ram, I am dying, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I don't accept it."

"Darling, you had better start accepting it now so it won't be as hard later on. Come now, you are a great king, not a great infant."

"Please!" he begged, tears standing in his eyes.

"Oh, son. If ever a child loved his parents too much, you were he. However, it is my time, just as it was your father's when it came to pass."

"You loved Father, too."

Oh, she loved him, all right. They married nine years into his reign.

"We helped each other through that. How will I do it again?"

"Marry."

"Mother, this is no time for jokes."

"Take it as a joke, then. When your grandfather died, Cor and I found comfort in each other."

"Forget marrying. Perhaps I'll find Uncle Corin. We always did like each other."

"There. That's a wonderful suggestion for yourself." A sudden pain entered her side. She seethed.

"What is it, Mother?" Ram asked, immediately at her side.

"I fear I have less time than I thought I did." The pain became sharper, quicker, more frequent. "There is still slavery in Calormen, yes?"

"Yes."

"Get rid of it. Free them all. Make my homeland a place of which I can be proud. And lastly—"

Ram took her sweaty hand.

"—most importantly—be the king I know you to be. Always remember how Cor and I loved you and how well we both knew you could do. You are a great king, and spend every day trying to be a greater one. That was one of the many things Cor taught me. Honor your father. Honor your country. And please—"

He leaned closer.

"—my third love—is Calormen. Honor it, well."

The Queen spoke no more words and died comfortably in her sleep later that night.

King Ram took her wishes to heart. He remembered well the strength of his mother and the reign of his father and kept their love with him as he ruled in turn. Every day he strove to improve on the last one, and Archenland basked in the glory of the greatest forty years it had ever known.

And every night he swore he'd start on abolition the following day.

However, peace came at a great cost, especially after Narnia's Golden Age toppled. Their land became a residence for anarchy and squabbling ground among Telmarines and Calormenes and anyone else who fancied taking it for themselves. Ram never did, not even when Talking Beasts rushed into his court and begged him to help before their beloved country fell to the hands of those with baser motives. It was the lesser of two evils, he supposed, and over five thousand creatures witnessed his subsequent coronation.

Ram married and had children, four daughters and one son. He still didn't know how he did it, kept Narnia in tentative peace on top of Archenlandic affairs. Though allied, the countries suffered from such different problems that often he had to devote his time to them separately. Between that and keeping a family, he never had time for anything else. Narnians and Archenlanders alike called him "Ram the Great," long before he was deceased.

Yet he never forgot about Calormen, even in the times he was busiest. Eventually he had told his wife, who in turn had patted his hand and said that with how busy he was, how could he possibly think of anything else? Deep down, he knew she was right. Taking his attention away from the issues at hand was asking for them to fall apart. He couldn't let go of the idea and the belief that someday he'd be able to right it, no matter how much circumstances seemed to state the opposite.

His health was still good forty years into his reign in 1080, and others joked that their king would live forever. After outliving both parents, he became invincible to his beloved subjects, though he soon proved to be as mortal as the rest. When an assassin's arrow caught his throat, his wife and children were at his side. And while all the things he'd managed to accomplish were on his mind, the one thing he didn't was even more so. "Forgive me," he said.

London, 1941

Edmund Pevensie glanced at his watch and sighed aloud in the dark room. It was no use trying to sleep or divert himself from Narnia. Though he and his siblings had not discussed their last trip there for a while, he could tell it was still on each one's mind. Peter, though still pained from having left Narnia for the last time, was making a strong effort to grow up in his own world as well as he did in the former. He had become far more serious over the past year with the question of what was to follow after school. No matter how hard he tried to hide his discontent, it was clear that he was debating over whether to go to college or enlist in the war. Soon he would be of age. Lucy found herself listless and bored with her world, especially during the weekends with little to do. Most of these days she preferred to stay in her room reading accounts of medieval history. Buried in the company of her friends, Susan tried to forget about the wonderful times in Narnia to which she could never return. As with Peter, she did not speak much about how she felt.

And he—how did he cope?

Edmund had been falling out of sorts lately, too. There was something in the way it was harder to do things, which could only accurately be described as melancholy. Everything became harder after leaving Narnia for the second time. If he could pick up a sword or a crossbow one more time, or fight one more time, he would…

Utterly exhausted, Edmund ran a hand through his hair and flopped over on his stomach. Too late; he was at the mercy of his mind. He, Edmund, felt useless in Narnia and useless here and debated whether he even wanted to come back, now that Peter and Susan couldn't. Now that they wouldn't be returning to Narnia, how would that affect Lucy when again she went?

How would it affect him?

"But you will come back," a voice breathed in the room.

Edmund blinked, his room suddenly brighter. A great lion stood before him. "Aslan," he whispered.

"Why do you wish not to return? Surely you know you were a fine ruler to your subjects."

"Yes," said Edmund.

"Why, then?"

"I don't know," Edmund yawned. "It's just how I felt last time going there and back."

"You must know," Aslan replied gently. "Search inside you, Son of Adam."

A long silence passed. Edmund, brow creased in understanding, was about to reply before Aslan spoke again.

"Long ago, shortly after the final years of Narnia's Golden Age, Queen Aravis wished for her son to end slavery in her home country."

So Cor did marry her, then. Edmund grinned to himself.

"However, he was unable to pursue it in the midst of imminent war. Over a thousand years have passed. Now that Narnia is thriving again, it is time for this wish to be granted, and it is solely your task to make it be."

"Lucy?" Edmund asked doubtfully.

"Lucy has matters of her own to sort through right now, and she would not see any of Narnia if she came. Thus she will not accompany you, although you will have help. As I recall you were working on public and private international law after the Battle of Anvard."

"Jus inter gentes," Edmund said. He hadn't remembered until now.

"Your work toward to the unity of all within Narnia may be finished." This last statement was barely audible. Now Aslan spoke in an even softer voice, "And now, my child, sleep." He breathed.

Edmund's eyes fluttered shut, and he fell into the deepest slumber he'd ever known that night.

...

"Why any fool can tell you're dangerous.

And with your arms around me, I should call for aid.

You're dangerous, but who's afraid?—"

Millie Strand lived for all the glares she was receiving now, singing loudly and dancing in the middle of the square. (There was no dancing in the scene in question, but who cared for semantics?) She and good friend Susan had just returned from the cinema. For her, Road to Zanzibar simply never got old.

Susan?" Millie cut herself off humming the instrumental part, suddenly taking notice of her friend's silence. Everybody else was tired of her fixation with Road to Zanzibar that she'd seen twice since the weekend prior. Susan, however, seemed to be pondering over something else. "Are you all right?" Millie prodded again.

Susan Pevensie's dark hair was placid, groomed, and there were no bags under her eyes. There was, though, a subtle change in posture and absence in her eyes that had not been there on the short walk to the cinema. She had been spending much of her time with Millie, Heather, Myrna and a myriad of other friends during their first week of vacation, but only Millie could come today. Susan now looked dully at her and said nothing. While her friends were often a good distraction, they were sometimes also rather self-absorbed. Millie, who used to be sensible, had always been outspoken, but now she was a constant source of attention. Now, though, her erratic nature became predictable—and dull.

"You look like you've misplaced ten shillings," Millie continued, imagining that she herself would be very upset in such an event. "Why so blue, though? Do you miss someone from the hols?"

The colloquialism sounded strange on her. Susan, for lack of any better explanation, nodded.

During their walk back to St. Finbar's, Millie nattered the time away. Susan said nothing; Millie inquired nothing but prattled on and on about anything and everything: how Anise had grown three inches in the past month, how Aunt would extend curfew when next she came home, and how she obtained the new five pairs of bobby socks she had bought with her own money. She talked about a letter from Father and an exhausted coffee house near her home that reminded her of one she had once been stranded atop of. She hoped Frank would still be proud of her as he was when she climbed to the top of the actual one and nearly killed herself falling off it. Susan did not smile at the anecdote. Being rather tired of Susan's brooding, Millie decided that there was no use of taking her mind off it—whatever 'it' was.

"So are you going to tell me about him?" Millie asked, abandoning reticence. Beating around the bush got old, and it simply wouldn't do anymore.

"I'd rather not," Susan said.

It ended at that.

This bored Millie.

"Why don't we run down to Maynards?" She suggested. "Perhaps we can buy some sweets there. Best things for the doldrums, I tell you. I have a couple stamps in my ration books, and I've got to run to the chemist's next door anyhow. Leave summer back where it belongs. A woman can be alone, you know, especially in this day and age. Forgetting him is your best bet, I wager, and if not, there's always next time. Anyhow, you said we aren't talking about it, so we aren't. What about those sweets? How are you on stamps?"

Susan gave a short answer to the affirmative.

"Are you all right?" Millie inquired, concerned. Susan's face had lost its color and she looked quite grim.

"Yes, I'm quite well."

"Only you've been quiet this whole time, and you're looking a little pale. Are you sure? Perhaps something at the chemist's might help."

"Millie, I'm fine."

"Obviously you're not, and you're not cheering up. That's my job. What're friends for?" Whereafter Millie winced, for she had just ended a sentence with a preposition.

Susan said nothing and continued with what Millie would refer to as sulking.

Susan Pevensie never sulked.

And she most certainly did not sulk over a boy.

"Susan," she purred, "No romance is worth the trouble. With school on all our agendas, who has the time? Don't worry yourself too much. How about reading to get your mind off? I'm reading James Hilton's latest. But that won't cheer you up," Millie added to herself in an undertone. "Traitor's Purse?"

"Thank you, no."

If it were any other person, Millie would've stopped talking then and there and let the drama run its course. This, however, was Susan Pevensie, one of the most sensible people she'd ever known and not very susceptible to folly. So, with one last ditch effort she asked if there was anything she could do.

With a plaintive sigh, Susan told her very guarded details about the man of whom she was enamored… tall, dark, and handsome. It could have described roughly two-thirds of the world's population and was explained in such a way as was customary of her, completely sensibly and stoically.

Yet the signs were there. She was twirling her hair and smiling sporadically. Her cheeks were rosy. Even her voice seemed to take on a slightly different tone as she told two anecdotes to her large-eyed companion… how they met, and how last they parted.

"—and I'll never see him again."

"What?"

Two or three other walkers looked over. Millie averted her eyes and cleared her throat, embarrassed.

"That's the worst of it, honestly, but life goes on. In a month I'll be right as rain."

"With chocolate, sooner." Millie said emphatically.

Susan did laugh at this, spirits lightened by the chat.

Millie, who had been completely in earnest, hid her disappointment.

"It's an experience that becomes easier with time. Goodness knows I've been there before."

"Perhaps we all have," Millie replied. "It's just a shame you two had so little time."

"Yes. He certainly wasn't my first love, but that was the first time I had to give up a romance before it had even begun." Susan summarized this with a dry laugh.

Millie pouted in response, forgetting that as a preoccupied student she wasn't supposed to care about love.

"Anyway, that's my story. You owe me one when you fall in love."

"Duly noted. We're here."

Maynards was pretty on the interior, and it always smelled confectionary, enveloping customers with a sweet sticky weariness akin to falling asleep in a cloud of candyfloss. Susan looked even less forlorn after buying her candy.

Millie turned to her. "Will you be all right walking back yourself? I've got loads more stuff to buy."

"Yes," said Susan, and the pair exchanged goodbyes and embraces before Millie walked into the chemist's with a hand in her handbag.

And frowned.

The Maynard's purchase wasn't there.

It must have gone with Susan by mistake… and she considerably needed it more. Nevertheless, Millie missed her candy. Of course it wasn't any great loss because she missed Hershey's most of all, and the Americans were holding all the Hershey's to themselves.

Stupid Americans.

Oh well, she thought as she went into the chemist's. Easy come, easy go.

Upon entering she picked up a few arbitrary things after which she huddled in the corner of the store where the sanitary napkins were, noting that so far there were no men present except the member of Home Guard who was off duty, and he was at the opposite side of the store. She smiled as she came in. She liked Home Guard in the same way she liked soldiers. They held none of the grimness of the battlefield, those who fought on the front, and were mostly as congenial as the corner constables. It was a shared accomplishment of strength and resilience, one that caused her to admire them on the whole.

Indeed the soldiers deserved all the food they got from civilian rationing.

A lazy country that wouldn't go to war because it was still aching over the year it served in the Great War, which wasn't much considering what had happened here on the continent, didn't.

Unbeknownst to Millie, Susan had run into her younger brother while passing the store on her merry way. Edmund had come looking for her concerning the outing they had planned for the next day: Lucy had to study for an exam. The siblings were about to leave when a person in the store caught Edmund's eye. He grinned, recognizing her from the times when she used to visit the Pevensie home with Susan's other friends. It had been years ago. He entered the store, and Millie, thinking that he must surely have come to buy something and would spend some time perusing it, dashed to the counter with her purchase. She was safe… or so she thought.

"Do you remember me?" He asked her.

Millie froze. "I'm afraid not," she said curtly without turning around.

Edmund frowned. Why was she so rude? "Edmund Pevensie."

"Susan's kid brother?" Millie asked, peering tentatively over her shoulder. She recoiled. 'Susan's kid brother' had grown about a foot since she had last seen him.

Edmund's frown deepened at the christening. "What does that make you?"

She dropped the boxes onto the counter, heaving, and glanced briefly at Edmund Pevensie. He looked somewhat disgruntled, and for good reason. If he was a kid, he certainly didn't look like one.

"This isn't the best time, in case you haven't noticed." Millie said, looking pointedly at the receptionist.

"You don't look busy," Edmund retorted.

"It was nice meeting you again, Edmund." Millie finally glared up at Edmund. He, however, was not finished talking.

"Besides, you can't be much older than fourteen."

"I'm fifteen!" She whirled around to face him indignantly.

"So am I!" He pointed out. "I'm not a kid."

"Fine," she snapped. "You're Susan's younger brother. Good day."

"Good you seem to understand that. Susan told me you were smart."

"I am sma—!"

"Oi! Madam, please move the line along or leave it!" The woman behind Millie fidgeted indignantly.

Millie huffed as her fingers slipped on the sanitary napkins she was about to hand over to the chemist while they began to sweat. This was just awful. Why couldn't Edmund go away? "Don't you have anything to buy?" She snapped at Edmund desperately.

"No, I thought you could use some help—"

"Thank you very much, but no." Millie interrupted, eyeing the clamoring line with masked horror. They stared right back. She knew her time was up. "That's all," she finally croaked and dropped the large package on the floor. The receptionist practically shoved her out of the line to serve the next customer. Millie stormed to the door with bag in hand.

The door had plans of its own.

Little black and red checks and has-been dark brown curls from yesterday's rollers swam in Millie's vision. Her whole body clenched as she used every ounce of will power not to kick the door, as it was made of glass. "It's always you," she sang through gritted teeth. "Dad-blamed door."

"Need any help?" That familiar obnoxious voice asked.

The door rattled several times in response accompanied by what sounded like "Damn it," poorly disguised as a cough.

"Well, I have places to be." Edmund replied, striding over and putting his weight against the stubborn door.

Millie dropped her merchandise, balled a fist, and threw it into the door. This turned out to be unwise, as moments later she was nursing a red mark and waving her hand everywhere. More quiet cursing followed.

Edmund snickered meanly and shook his head.

Perhaps she deserved it, Millie admitted to herself. So caught up in this world was she that she didn't notice the shapes around her getting blurrier and blurrier. Finally the world started falling away.

Edmund jumped as the rude girl grabbed his arm.

"What's going on?" Millie trilled.

"You'll see," he replied gruffly. Why was she allowed to come?

"Is the world ending? Why isn't anybody looking? Don't they care? What would Auntie say? I have sisters to care for! They're too young to d—"

"Will you shut up?" Edmund hissed.

All too soon, Millie shut up of her own accord, too transfixed watching each building transform into a hillock and each sidewalk flushing green. "Wh—wh—where are we?" She finally asked.

Edmund mumbled something that she didn't hear.

Was there a portal and a room, just like Leroux's Le Fantôme de l'Opéra? Nothing else came remotely close to fact. It became immediately apparent, though, that it was an outside environment. Could it have been Zanz… no, it couldn't have… but still, nonetheless…

"Wow," she whispered, fear gone. "My own Road To!" She closed her eyes.

"It's Narnia. I highly suggest you open your eyes now."


OK, so that's... a start.

Regarding Aravis, I have a fantasy of her growing up to be Eleanor of Aquitaine, or at least inheriting her acerbic wit. It's fun writing strong female characters who have turned elderly. Regarding ages—yes, they are far closer to movieverse than bookverse. *bows head in shame* I mean, in general they're just really screwed up, possibly enough to qualify it as an AU.

So… OC. Annoying? Endearing? Humorous?

I've gone to great pains to ensure that Millie isn't a Sue, so tell me if she seems to be leaning that way at any point in the story. I will proceed to perform an exorcism on her. She seems like the odd one out now, but later on she *might* prove to be useful. Lucy can kill her for taking her place.

The period details should be right (ideally) with the exception of Road to Zanzibar, which was released in April of '41, and I highly doubt it would've made it to England by September. Nevertheless I wanted to incorporate it somehow here (along with the Marx Brothers, who might be coming later), and the song turns out to be a nice foreshadowing tool… venturing out to the unknown with the unknown (although Edmund, disappointingly, is not dangerous, at least to those who fight on his side).

The use of bairn: it's Scottish/Northern English. Somehow I see how this could be an Archenlandic word.

On the resolution of conflict of laws I've done a little research, but I'm no law student. Tell me if anything there seems wrong, but I thought Jus inter gentes was apropos since it means "law between the peoples" and deals with international human rights.

Anyhow, does anybody like this? It's really weird, I know—everything about it is weird. Should I continue or crawl back into seclusion? I'm planning a few fics that are a lot more canon (no OC's), but I digress. PLEASE REVIEW.