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Preface
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The castle was meant to be a happy, thriving place... Not a place of mourning. Nevertheless, every single soul who had congregated to Cair Paravel was deep in depression. And anger. For once, the sounds of waves crashing on the shore below did not soothe... They irritated.
Especially High King Peter.
He despised that ocean.
It reminded him ofher.
She had nearly died in those evil waters.
His true love, the one who had given her life to save him. She had fought for his freedom when he had not. Peter hated himself. If he did not have his siblings to care for, he would willingly fling himself off the tallest tower of Cair Paravel- A castle he felt he no longer deserved. Narnia didn't need a coward as a king. They needed someone with a pure heart, strength, and courage to lead them. She would have led Narnia without trouble. She would have fought the herbs. She could have done anything.
Instead, she had saved him.
A foolish mistake, because he should have died.
His family and friends loved him, they would have missed him. But she had the entire world missing her. Thousands had traveled to Cair Paravel, too many to fit inside the Great Hall. Crowds of birds, bears, centaurs, sheep, fauns, badgers, lizards, and countless more animals had made their way to the castle. All of the Elvin population had come too, their striking features ruined by the wrinkles and signs of grief. But the Narnians were not alone, sad nobles from Archenland joined them. Lord Patdor and his family had arrived just in time for the ceremony.
Her body had been placed on a table, covered in a cloth of red and orange. Her fire may have diminished inside, but he made sure that the colors of flame would embrace her . It was so wrong to see her so cold... She had always been so warm.
Even in death she looked lovely, beauty unmatched. With eyes closed, mouth in a tiny smile, and arms pulled to her chest. Herhands held purple flowers. The elves had explained to him that they were Jordue Flowers, the very ingredient in the antidote. It was only suiting that she hold them in her eternal peace, they were a symbol of herfinal act.
He sobbed looking at the procession continue. It only earned him looks of pity and understanding, but he ignored them. A line had been formed through the Great Hall and extended outside, everyone took their turn to lay flowers or gifts on the floor. Every elf brought the same gift: a Jordue Flower. The rest had brought something unique and individual to offer to their fallen hero.
He would wait until the line ended, he would give his gift last. His siblings and her closest friends waited too, their time with her would be a private ceremony.
Many hours passed, the pile of flowers and lovely trinkets grew and grew. Soon it seemed that the entire castle smelled of flowers rather than the sea. But finally, the crowd had dispersed, returning solemnly to their homes throughout the land. He did not see anyone off, not even King Lune. But that was the last thing he wanted to do- it would mean seeing the woman who had ruined his life. He did not ask when the filth's trial would commence, he did not want to know what her punishment would be. He never wished to hear of the evil girl ever again. He knew that King Lune would have justice.
But no amount of justice would bring her back.
His tears came harder, his body shook more violently. So violently, that the crown fell from his head and clattered onto the stone ground. He did not care, nothing mattered anymore. His life held no importance. The responsibility of leading Narnia would go to Edmund. He would tell Ed so, but only when his brother could bear looking at his face. He didn't blame his brother... He was disgusted with himself as well.
"Pick up your crown, my King." The low voice of Vicern said. It was not a request, it was a command. Why did the Elvin lord call him 'king'? He neither deserved nor wanted such a title...
He did not move.
Someone sighed, and a soft hand picked up the fallen crown. "Peter, it's our turn to pay respects. Please, put your crown back on."
"Give it to Ed, it belongs to him now. His voice sounded strange. It didn't seem like he spoke, it was as if a stranger spoke. He could feel nothing but his agony... He didn't even feel his sister pull him up to his feet.
"You may wallow in self-pity after the ceremony. She deserves better from you, give her your gift." Susan hissed.
Why did his sister even speak to him?
He knew that Susan hated him.
Slowly, he shook his head. No, his sister didn't hate him. She didn't hate herself. Rage influenced her tone now, Susan was livid with herself and him. It was impossible to forget that she too had been controlled- but it had not been her that killed...
Dear Aslan, he could not even think of her name!
Lifeless, he reached out and took the crown from her grasp. Robotically, he placed it on his head again. Susan and Vicern held hands as they walked away from him, the promise rings shining from their fingers. For a moment he pitied them, their wedding would only begin to be organized when it was clear that everyone was healed from the loss of her. They would have a long time to wait.
His eyes scanned the remaining people. Lucy was clinging to Stilden, their bodies trembled as they cried without end. He felt compassion rush through him at the sight of the two. Lucy had tried so hard, so damn hard to bring her back. But that magic elixir could not bring back the dead. And Stilden, brave and courageous Stilden, had risked his life to run through the castle and save her wand and crown. It had been wise, because the traitor had gone after them as soon as she learned of their existence. Stilden had run, with wand and crown in possession, to Archenland and found aid.
They had loved her dearly.
It was his fault that she was gone.
Gone.
Forever.
Movement out of the corner of his eyes distracted him. He watched as Edmund approached her now, passing the gifts and without fear. The young man's face was torn and pale, only hinting at the complete and utter devastation inside. Ed was barely functioning, all knew that he was very close to losing his life. If he did not heal, the grief would kill him. Edmund reached her body and touched it, as if it was the natural thing.
And suddenly, from where he stood watching, Peter felt jealousy. It looked so right, even to him, for Ed to touch her so lovingly. Edmund loved her, deeply and purely. It had been Ed, not he, who had saved her countless times. It had been Ed, not he, who had taught her to defend herself when she felt so powerless, her fire gone. And it had been Ed who screamed in insane rage at the sky, cursing Aslan, as he cradled her body close to his chest on the balcony that horrible day...
All the while, he, High King Peter the bloody no good Magnificent, merely watched confused. Confused at the blood that dripped off his sword. It had taken only 10 seconds for his head to gain control over his body and his vision to clear... Only 10 seconds to be freed. But it had taken him a whole 10 minutes to realize what he had done...
And by that time, Edmund had already taken her ripped, broken body away. Far, far, far away from her murderer.
Since then, Ed had yet to look at him. But that would take much time, Ed despised him, and rightfully so.
He took a deep breath, trying to bring calm to his mind. The sobs resided slightly, becoming silent, burning tears. He watched as Ed slipped a gold ring with rubies onto her finger. No doubt the ring he had never been able to offer her, as he kneeled and asked her to be his wife.
The jealousy melted away.
Edmund and her were a perfect match. They deserved each other, he realized. The impact of this statement knocked the breath out of him, but strangely, there was no bitterness. Only regret... Regret that he had been in the way of Ed's happy ending... And suddenly, he knew that one day... One day he and his brother would be able to reconcile. They were brothers, blood, kin. He would admit his wrong and offer his title of High King. Yes, he and Edmund would sort things out, all would be well... One day.
But one thing would never change.
Peter would always love his Makayla.
With this resound fact in his mind, heart, and soul, High King Peter approached Makayla... Not his Princess, but his Queen. Gently, he placed a Jordue Flower upon her chest.