My apologies to people waiting for the next Stargate fic – that's coming, I promise.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. Also, a lot of the setting is also taken from Elecktrum's version of the universe. After reading so much of her fanfiction, it was hard to separate myself from her world. I invite everyone to please go read what she has because it's incredible and I don't think I do it justice
Aisling is my own creation
. . .
It was the Golden Age of Narnia, when the four kings and queens sat upon the thrones of Cair Paravel and peace sprung eternal. Even some of the Archenlanders from the South had come to live under this impressive reign, and were welcomed.
One of these Archenlanders was a girl named Aisling. She was young, and had been younger still when the monarchs took the thrones. When her family had come north, they had taken up residence quite near the castle, so as to see all they could of these grand people. Because of this, the girl was familiar with the workings of the Cair, having been a troublemaker from the start and sneaked off whenever she got the chance. When she deemed she was old enough, she decided to give her services over to the kings and queens as a guard.
This was a decision she had thought long and hard about. Queen Susan the Gentle lived up to her namesake, of course, but she was in no way unable to defend herself. The subjects had seen her in archery tournaments (not actually eligible for a win, of course) and knew how accurate and determined she could be. Still, she was the queen, and could hardly be expected to face every danger head-on by herself. Kings Peter and Edmund were much the same story, both more than capable of defending themselves, but, again, they were the monarchs. The risk couldn't be taken. Queen Lucy, on the other hand, was as brave as anyone could possibly be, but she was soft-hearted, and was loath to harm anything, even an attacker. She, above all, needed defending.
Aisling dearly loved these rulers, for they were kind and fair. The joyous kings and queens of Narnia, as they were known, and a better description she had yet to find. If she could use her talents with sword and bow to repay them for all they did, she would do it.
Therefore, on one breezy spring day, Aisling made her way to the castle proper. Fauns and other happy creatures laid about on the grass, enjoying the sunshine after winter. There was still a great paranoia for the cold season amongst Narnians, and Aisling had even learned to be paranoid with them, although everyone was collectively getting better about it.
"Good morn!" called one of the Fauns with a wave.
"And to you," she said.
"Blessed day!" squeaked a Hedgehog.
"Let us hope," she replied more quietly.
The castle was not far, and she arrived in little less than an hour, though because of the sun and the amount of walking, she was practically dying of thirst. She said nothing, however, when entering the great hall. Several creatures were there, laying about as a breeze drifted in through the open doors and windows. She'd been to Cair Paravel several times before, and had always loved how open and light it was inside, as though one never left the outside world.
"Good noon, miss," said a tall Faun with a green scarf.
She smiled. "Good noon, Mr. Tumnus."
"My dear, the weather today is so warm. Won't you take a drink before you see the kings and queens?"
"That would be much welcome, thank you."
The Faun sent for some water, then took her by the arm and led her to stand by the window. "For what have you come to see their highnesses, miss?"
"I would like to see about becoming a part of their guard," she told him.
He raised his eyebrows. "Ah, an honorable pursuit. Are you a skilled swordswoman?"
"I am," she said with a nod. "My father attended a school in Archenland for boys where he learned to use a sword and other weapons. He had no sons, so when I was old enough, he began to teach me."
"And Narnia will be glad for it, I'm sure," Tumnus said happily. "Look now! Here comes your drink. When you've finished, you may enter the throne room. The kings and queens should have just finished their break for lunch."
Aisling gratefully accepted the goblet and quickly drank her water. Tumnus had left, so without anyone to guide her, she let herself into the throne room (she was quite unaccustomed to seeking an audience with their majesties, and so did not think it odd the the chamberlain had yet to arrive).
The monarchs were hardly in a state of regality. Queen Lucy was seated in Queen Susan's lap, toying with the elder queen's hair as she talked. Kings Edmund and Peter were currently engaged in a heated arm wrestling contest. They seemed to not notice the newcomer, which was unsurprising, as Aisling had entered rather quietly. They continued on like this for several minutes. Lucy's gesticulations grew grander, and Peter seemed to be winning the contest. Aisling became rather enraptured in the goings-on, watching tensely as the arm wrestling approached a draw. Both boys had sweat upon their brows, and Edmund was gaining ground. In another half minute, however, Peter overpowered his younger brother and slammed his hand onto the chair with a great exhalation.
"Better luck next time, Ed," he laughed.
"Best two out of three."
"Oh, no!" Queen Lucy suddenly squealed, her hand flying to her mouth. She had spotted Aisling at the front of the room, and was consequently abashed. "Oh, no, I'm terribly sorry!"
"Will you two drop your shenanigans?" Queen Susan hissed to her brothers, though she needn't have said anything. The kings were already straightening up in their chairs, hurriedly regaining the appearance of royalty. Lucy quickly danced back to her throne and sat uncomfortably upon the edge.
"We really are terribly sorry," she repeated.
Aisling, who was only just realizing she was forgetting her own manners, curtsied deeply. "Far be it from me to ask for your apology, your majesty."
"All the same, we were rude, and even royalty cannot be held unaccountable for that," Queen Susan said.
"You - erm - are you Aisling?" King Peter asked, blushing slightly.
"I am, your highness."
"And you requested an audience with us, did you? Oh, do stand a bit taller. I can't talk to you while you're bowing like that."
Everyone in the room, it seemed, was still rather new to this. Turning a deep shade of crimson, Aisling straightened up. "I'm sorry, sire."
"Don't be, it's alright."
"We get a bit uncomfortable with some of the formalities, and we're still a little bit new at this," King Edmund explained. "Please, tell us why you've come."
It was here that Aisling began to doubt herself. These kings and queens, while a bit silly, seemed to have everything well in hand. Why should they want a young, inexperienced girl protecting them? But all four had their attention set on her, and her only option was to deliver. "Your highnesses, I wish to be a part of the royal guard."
Their eyebrows rose, and Aisling reminded herself that she had decided to wear a skirt for the audience, and so would appear a bit more ladylike than usual. Ladies were not particularly prone to joining the guard of anything.
"Why?" Peter asked.
Aisling floundered for a moment. It was difficult to explain the reasons for doing this, especially to the kings and queens. "Because I want to" didn't seem like a good option, either. She finally settled with, "Because that's what I'm good at."
"That's quite the endeavor," Edmund said. "However, I hope you realize that we cannot take you simply because you ask. We have to know you're capable."
"I am, sire."
"We didn't say you weren't," Susan said. "But we do require a certain amount of proof."
"What she means to say," Edmund interrupted, wincing at the poor wording, "is that we have to know how good you actually are."
"So, a duel, then?" Aisling asked seriously.
The queens and Edmund blinked in surprise, as the question had been a touch challenging. "Well, we generally send people to Captain Celer for such things-"
King Peter let out a laugh. "A duel! I agree completely! How about you, Ed?"
Edmund looked at his brother, seeming to understand Peter's intentions and determined to avoid that path. "Perhaps with Celer-"
"Celer? Why? You're perfectly capable, and we won't even have to send for anyone."
There it was. The punishment for losing the arm wrestling competition. Aisling raised her eyebrows, surprised that King Peter thought it appropriate to have King Edmund duel a subject. Edmund obviously didn't think so, and neither did the queens.
"Peter, think of what you're saying," Susan pleaded. "This could lead to embarrassment."
"For whom?" Aisling asked, pride feeling pricked. "My lady, I assure you, if anyone will be embarrassed in this, it will not be me."
At this, Edmund cocked his head. "So say you, but I've yet to see if you possess the talent to back that up."
"Then by all means, sire; try me."
He frowned as Peter laughed. "You are from Archenland, aren't you? Certain you don't have any Black Dwarfs in your lineage?" With a shake of his head, he stood and stepped down from his throne. "Very well, I accept your challenge, however indirect it may be. But not here. We'll take this to the sparring ring like civilized people."
Aisling felt a rush of fear at that. With the fight taking place outside, Narnians of all sorts would gather to watch. If she lost, she'd be sent home with her dignity in shambles. But Edmund was the king, and his word was law. King Peter was still smiling, and the queens were beginning to mutter about the indignity of it all as they followed Edmund from the room. A Fox entered the room just after they left and nodded at Aisling. "You are to follow me, miss."
She nodded silently and left with the Fox. Of all the ways she had expected this meeting to go, this had not been on the list.
She was taken to the armory, where she realized word of the duel had spread like a fire on a tar-soaked rag. The quartermaster, a centaur named Titus, was ready for her.
"This be your weapon, lady," he said, handing her a standard, double-edged shortsword. "'Tis blunted to soften the blow."
"Will his highness be using Shafelm?" she asked hesitantly.
With a smile, the centaur shook his head. "Nay, King Edmund knows his strengths. He will use a sword like your own."
She nodded, some of her fears being curbed for the moment. "And this is allowed?"
"If his highness believes so."
It wasn't that Aisling doubted her abilities. Her swordplay was not a subject she took to exaggerating, and she did think she had a brilliant teacher. However, fighting a king was far removed from her comfort zone, as she was completely unaware of the proper protocol. What if she injured him? What if he injured her? King Edmund, while not the most gentle of the monarchs, would certainly feel guilt for wounds inflicted on a subject. This was the worst idea she'd ever heard, but it had come from the mouth of the High King, so she supposed it wouldn't be all bad.
"Will I be wearing armor?" she asked.
Titus merely held a hardened leather chestpiece and bracers out to her. They were a bit large, but it was as good as could be done on short notice.
Her heart leaped into her throat when she stepped outside. Narnians already ringed the sparring area, and King Edmund was just arriving. He was dressed in plain clothes and was tying off the laces on his bracers, his expression none too pleased with the situation. Aisling had to remind herself that this was as much her challenge as it was Peter's, but no one had really gotten much say.
"Are you prepared to do this?" he asked, giving her a look that said she could reply any way she pleased.
If she declined now, she would never make it into the guard. A defender of the kings and queens had to be prepared for every challenge. "Yes," she told him.
Of course, a defender of the kings and queens wouldn't fight them.
He nodded. "Alright. Peter will be our referee."
"As well he should be."
Edmund smiled slightly at that, then brought his sword up to the ready. Aisling mirrored his position, her muscles coiled and ready for the clash.
"I expect no less than a clean fight," Peter called, standing upon a wooden crate so all could see and hear. "This duel will reveal the skills Aisling of Archenland possesses, and we will know by the end if she may be allowed a position in Their Majesties' Royal Guard. King Edmund, are you at the ready?"
The Just King nodded tersely, never taking his eyes from the girl in front of him.
"Aisling of Archenland, are you at the ready?"
"Yes, sire."
Peter held a hand up to the sun, then brought it swiftly down. "Begin!"
Neither participant struck in the first few moments. Aisling was waiting to let the king strike first, but he only circled and watched. Sweat was already beading on her forehead because she still didn't know the proper protocol for this.
He's waiting, she realized with some amount of surprise. She had happened upon his first battle tactic: let the enemy strike first to see what they have to offer. Now that she had this in mind, she could figure out her first move. He was watching everything, the way she walked, where her eyes were, even the angle at which her sword tilted. Aisling didn't particularly want to play into his hands, but realized pride was not allowed to be a deciding factor in her attack. She lunged, a basic, easy move that he deflected with hardly a thought. As her sword glanced off of his, however, she used the momentum to bring it round and curve for his shoulder. His careful eyes saw her ploy and he parried that, too, but with a bit more effort. This time, he launched his own attack in retaliation, and suddenly the duel was raging full force without any more preamble.
By the Lion, he was strong! The king was small and slender, and therefore she had assumed he'd use speed to his advantage, but he surprised her. His swings had incredible power behind them, and on more than one occasion, her arms buckled beneath a well-placed strike. The Narnians were all cheering, urging their king to victory. This was in no way disheartening for Aisling, for she could barely register the attacks coming from her opponent as they came, much less the shouting around her.
In the end, it was her strength that was her downfall. After several minutes of fending off Edmund's attacks and desperately trying to slip through his defenses, his sword collided with barbaric force against hers. Her arms gave way and, sensing this chink in her proverbial armor, he executed a tight twist and her sword was ripped from her hands. Aisling fell to one knee, her chest heaving.
"King Edmund reigns victorious!" Peter crowed above the resulting din.
Edmund paid them no mind. He stooped and retrieved her fallen sword, then handed it back to her hilt-first. "Give me a week," he panted. "You'll soon be on the guard."
She blinked. "But I didn't win."
He shrugged. "You didn't have to," he said, turning to leave the ring.
It wasn't until much later that Aisling realized she had never been meant to win. King Edmund was one of the best swordsmen in all of Narnia, with his brother coming in as a close second. There was no conceivable way that she could have won, and that was as it should have been. Pitting her against such a master forced her to show everything she possibly had, and where she needed to improve. By the end of the week, she received word that she'd been accepted as a member of the guard and was due to begin training immediately.
It was awfully hard work, her training, but she loved every moment. Fauns, Centaurs, Cats, and Mice comprised the majority of those she trained with, and Oreius or Sir Giles Fox would occasionally come by to give special lessons. Aisling was very good at what she did, and by the end of three years, she had become the Captain of the Royal Guard.