Great Aslan had said Peter and Susan would never return to Narnia, but hadn't specified who would return with Lucy and Edmund, or if any of them would ever return to earth.
Caspian hoped this weren't true.
Because now, Narnia was in deep trouble. Prince – now King – Caspian was ruler, but much to his surprise, Narnia had succumbed to the power of a woman who had once nearly ruined the happy land, and all because of the now late Miraz's carelessness.
And so, Aslan decided, the Pevensies' help was once again needed in Narnia. Plus a little extra.
--
Lucy Pevensie was the first of the four kings and queens of old to notice something off about the old wardrobe during a visit to the Professor's house. It was gloomier, darker, yet somehow, more magnificent – appearing much more like the wardrobe during Narnia's days of winter than like the wardrobe that stood after a certain witch's fall.
Lucy frowned as she stared up at it. She was only twelve now, but her attention span was great. She could watch the wardrobe for hours without needing to move.
"What's wrong, Lucy?" asked a sleek voice coming from the doorway. Lucy furrowed her brow before she turned to look at Magnolia, whose silhouette was beautiful, glowing, surrounded by the sunlight that flooded through the room.
Magnolia strode to Lucy. "Something wrong with this thing, hmm?"
She tapped the wardrobe. Unknown, perhaps, to Magnolia, the wardrobe seemed to shudder.
Lucy didn't like Magnolia. She was tall, willowy, and graceful, and was Professor Kirke's student. And though Magnolia was certainly beautiful, she carried with her an aura of arrogance that assumed Lucy was just a little girl – if only Magnolia knew that Lucy had been a queen of Narnia, just one earth year ago!
Magnolia laughed, a tinkling chuckle, and began to walk away, but not without brushing Lucy's cheek with a hand. Her hand was soft and warm, but Lucy still shuddered. "It's all right, Lucy, it's just a wardrobe. It won't hurt you. Or if it does, you can always get dear Peter to save you," she laughed. Lucy clenched her teeth as she watched Magnolia stride away.
"I hate that girl," Lucy snarled to Edmund later that evening. "She thinks she's everything."
Edmund shrugged, twirling his fork around in midair thoughtfully as he contemplated his sister's angry face. Like Peter, he was drawn to Magnolia's beauty, at least when she wasn't speaking; her words were almost always cruel. Susan, of course, had to deal with the jealousy that came with the presence a woman of grace and beauty.
Lucy glared at her brother. "Why do you yield to her?" she demanded.
Edmund raised an eyebrow and gave her a knowing look. Peter, in turn, glanced at her.
Understanding, Lucy threw up her arms in exasperation and left her brother alone.
While the Pevensies ate dinner, Magnolia sauntered to the wardrobe that so interested Lucy Pevensie. What about it made Lucy come and look at it for hours at a time?
Looking over her slender shoulder to be sure no one was looking, Magnolia wrenched open the door of the wardrobe and peered in. Nothing special there. Disappointed, Magnolia began to rummage around the coats. She found a luxurious fur one, and, intrigued by materials as she was, tried to take it out, but found it was stuck, and in her effort, she climbed completely into the wardrobe, tugging and tugging until –
"What the ruddy hell!" Magnolia exclaimed as she right out of the back of the wardrobe and into a pile of snow. "What the –"
The fur coat had come out as well. Shivering, Magnolia slipped it on over her gown, feeling warmed instantly. She glanced back at where the wardrobe had been.
It was gone.
--
Caspian sat in his chamber, his hair and mind in disarray.
Narnia in endless snow. The clouds had gathered months ago, and the white flakes refused to cease their pouring from the sky…
This couldn't be.
Over 1300 years ago, Narnia had come to the same misfortune…if the White Witch had returned, how would Caspian deal? He was, after all, only seventeen. Ruling Narnia for four years hadn't given him experience enough to defeat an accomplished sorceress, especially not one who had captured and killed Aslan. Though admittedly, Aslan had, according to legend, put her to her grave. If the bitter cold was her doing, how could she be?
It was only then that he noticed a cut in his forearm, and cut by a foreign knife...and a vial reserved for collecting enemies' blood was gone. Caspian frowned. He assumed he must have been careless earlier, but the cut was fresh, yet painless. When he pressed it, blood oozed it.
He wiped it away on a handkerchief. Then, with a sudden shock, Caspian recalled something from his youth: the stench of a werewolf restraining him, a hag slicing his hand, a dwarf he thought he could trust calling upon the White Witch, who implored him for just a drop of his royal blood for her resurrection.
Caspian leaped up, stubbing his toe on his nightstand. Cursing, he grabbed his toe with one hand and seized his cloak with the other, and in seconds, he was off.
If he couldn't find the lamppost from which he knew the earthlings could arrive, he – and Narnia – was doomed.
Deep into the forest, Magnolia was still shivering, curled up into a chilly ball. She had been wandering for hours, and still no way out. She regretted ridiculing Lucy, promising herself never to make fun of the girl again if she could just escape the biting frost.
A shadow passed her. Magnolia gasped, then sank deeper into the darkness, hoping whatever it was hadn't heard her.
Unfortunately, it had.
It was a man on a horse, and the animal had stopped, snuffling its hooves in the snow. The man jumped off, swore, and rubbed his toe. Frightened but understandably interested, Magnolia leaned closer to the light a bit to catch a glimpse of the man, who was approaching her; there was no doubt that he knew someone was there.
Magnolia closed her eyes and hoped he was friendly…
"Who's there?"
Magnolia opened her eyes. The handsome, tanned face of a boy peered at her – someone she hadn't been expecting.
"What are you doing down there?"
His accent reminded Magnolia of the nice Spanish boys she had once frolicked with.
"I – um, I hope you're not an enemy," she said tentatively, surprised at the softness in her voice.
"Of course not," he said. He stretched out a hand. She took it, locking her lacy, delicate fingers in his calloused ones, and he pulled her up.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The boy-man laughed. "Not from Narnia?"
Magnolia blinked. "I – what? Narnia? No…"
"I'm King Caspian."
Caspian looked into her deep eyes, waiting for her next words. To his surprise, a glint of recognition flickered.
"C-Caspian?" she repeated. She had heard the name spoken between Lucy and Susan, but had no idea he was a king. "Are…are you friends with the Pevensies?"
Caspian smiled, a boyish happiness evident in his face. "Dearly."
Magnolia nodded.
"You look cold, milady," Caspian said suddenly, realizing his need for courtesy.
Magnolia straightened herself up to her full height, only a few inches shorter than he, and said briskly, "I am. It's Magnolia, by the way."
"Then come along, Magnolia," Caspian said, pulling Magnolia to his horse, a little taken aback by her boldness. The horse gave her a strange look, as if of examination, then of approval, and Caspian helped her onto the horse, then dexterously leaped onto the back as well. Magnolia reluctantly put her hands around his waist, wondering if this man were really a king.
Caspian cast a look back at this young woman, oddly-dressed and with a strange demeanor, as though she were really strong-willed but so unfortunately suppressed, then turned back around and took firm hold of the reins.
Magnolia's scream broke the chilled air as the horse whinnied, bucked, and dashed off.
--
Only seconds after Magnolia's departure, Lucy Pevensie discovered the door of the wardrobe open. There was a brief frenzy as she called for her brother, but they soon followed the girl they knew might cause serious trouble.
--
"Oh – oh dear Lord…"
Magnolia gazed up at the towering castle in which Caspian lived, and all her doubts of him being a king vanished. They rode past its sight and into a warmer stable.
Caspian slid off the horse's back and helped Magnolia down. She put a white hand to her face, cheeks rosied from the harsh cold.
"Thanks, Odin," Caspian said to the horse. Magnolia whipped her head around when she heard a voice respond: "my pleasure, Your majesty," but only the horse stood in its stall. Magnolia blinked.
Still dazed from the day's events, Magnolia looked at Caspian. He couldn't be younger than sixteen: her age. She couldn't deny, though, the young king was dreamy. Dapper. Handsome. He was taller than she was, and she admired his wind-blown hair, dark brown eyes, strong features that somehow matched a certain gentleness…
"So, milady, where dost thou fare?"
Magnolia stopped admiring him and struggled to compose herself.
"I'm from China originally, but I lived in France nearly all my life, until I came to England to stay with my tutor, Professor Kirke. The Pevensies' uncle."
Caspian looked thoroughly confused, if only for a few moments, having no idea, of course, what China, France, and England were, but all he needed was that she was a student of the Pevensies' uncle.
Magnolia spoke again, her old arrogance showing in her voice now.
"Why am I here?"
Caspian paused, slightly surprised.
"But – you're supposed to be here, aren't you? Didn't Aslan send you? You emerged at the lamppost, and you're to help me save Narnia!"
Magnolia, too, paused.
Narrowed her eyes.
Threw back her hair. Its raven color shimmered even in the dim light of dusk.
Caspian felt an instant charm in the girl, yet a faint dislike mingled with curiosity and attraction.
"What the hell is this Narnia you keep talking about!"