Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and all its characters belong to C.S Lewis; various characters here such as Lea and Akshay belong to me.

So I've been mulling this over in my head for a while now, and actually have it planned out for a trilogy (following in Prince Caspian and Voyage of the Dawn Treader). I even have about half of the Prince Caspian arc done in note form, but a sequel needs the original first... This will be a gradual Edmund/OC (because there can never be enough of those here!). Title comes from the song "Fields of Gold" by Eva Cassidy – the one I have on my iPod, anyway.

1

The Day The Fields Bloomed Bright

"And you can tell the sun in his jealous sky
of when we walked in fields of gold."

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.

Akshay's growls are the first thing I hear when I open my eyes. I squint against the suddenly blazing light above me, dizzy from being knocked out into unconsciousness, and try to get up from the frosting ground. A voice of unease murmurs in my head, tumbling over the other voices hurriedly whispering alongside it – they rise and fall, some as heavy and deep as the land, others as light as the air, or slippery and silver like the streams. They all cry out in panic, saying to me only one, trembling word:

Narnia.

The scream of the Queen of Narnia, high-pitched and broken midway with pain, is the second thing to sound throughout the still air, and then I remember.

.

.

The day Narnia bows her head to the cold cloak of winter, it is close to the coming of autumn. The trees stand still, ever-watching, and Talking Animals have fled the area long ago – in the clearing that once served as a dancing lawn for merry fauns, there are eight figures caught amidst the greenery.

"My Lady," Akshay says in the quiet that falls, fur matted and bloodied as two burly Wolves pin him to the ground. His body is littered with wounds both deep and light, and I can see red staining the fur on the jowls of the Wolves beside him.

I realize that there is a note of pleading in his voice; something like Amalea, don't do anything foolish and the axe against my neck cuts deeper, tracing a fine line of pink against the skin there.

The minotaur holding it there growls in warning – a wild, animalistic sound full of danger – and I still under his gleeful gaze. I hadn't realized there was someone keeping me in place, and I let myself gaze beyond him – a carcass of a black panther lies there, broken and bleeding out into the soil, surrounded by a dark halo of burgundy. Its eyes, empty and dead, stare out into the woods to a place we cannot see - perhaps it is Aslan's Country, but the Lion has limits to His forgiveness. The spirit of the earth thrums inside of my body, satisfied, and I almost reflect the feeling with a small smile of accomplishment – the kill was mine before I fell, and it makes me just the slightest bit content.

"Amalea," a beautiful voice says, shaping each syllable in a soft caress. I follow the sound of my name with my eyes, shifting my body as much as I dare under the minotaur's watchful stare. The voice sends a small shiver down my spine, the hair at the back of my neck standing up as some part of my brain recognizes the danger laced with the softness.

A blonde woman smiles at me from where she stands before a towering tree, clad in fine silks and battle armour. She is all large, willowy limbs and black eyes with no irises – her smile seems to be made of sharp teeth and the creatures of the falling night. She steps aside, fluid and smooth with the grace of a noble lady, and my gaze makes contact with that of my Queen.

Desdemona's eyes are grim with pain as she stares back, but there is a flame of determination in them – she is not the Queen of Narnia for nothing, and with her jaw set firmly in her face, the feelings of love and loyalty for her within me grow. I follow a line of rips and tears on her dress downwards, my eyes beginning to ache from the strain of still being held on the dirt, and to the weapon impaled right through her torso. She bleeds out of the wound, ugly and painful and life-threatening, a pattern of drops already forming on the grass below.

The light in her eyes begins to flicker and dim – a sort of hazy, strained resolve to stay awake stay alive – and a full body shudder goes through me. The greedy need for revenge and bloodshed inside of me rears its head at the sight, and a harsh wind tears through the small meadow, almost as if reacting to my bubbling feelings of rage.

I snarl so wide that the axe above me slices deeper, blood beginning to seep down the side of my neck.

"Jadis."

.

.

The first time I had glimpsed Jadis, she was demanding an audience with Queen Desdemona of Narnia. Many had heard rumours of a rebellion forming to the far north of the land, led by a beautiful witch with skin like snow and eyes like the deep waters beneath a starless night sky. Whispers told of her great magic and immortality, said to have been cursed by Aslan Himself, and her growing lust for power in our homeland.

I had only been alive for a year back then. The Narnians still sang songs of my birth and radiance to match that of Aslan Himself, moulded of the air and soil by the Great Lion at the entrance to His country. They sang of my kindness and wisdom and fair complexion, and the blessings I would surely bring to them in the years to come. I remember watching Jadis stride through the arches of beautiful Cair Paravel, her shoulders set as her eyes took everything in with the light of greed; from my spot in one of the many gardens, fingers curled lazily into the rich orange fur of Akshay's pelt as we sat side-by-side, I remember the calm feeling rising within me, resembling something akin to Narnia murmuring stories into my ear like a mother would as dusk fell those first few weeks after I was created.

This woman will die, I thought back then, my eyes trailing her as she disappeared deeper into the castle, or I will.

Six months later, Jadis of the North declared war on Lion's country.

What we thought of as only a small group of vagabonds soon turned into an army of several hundred. Creatures flocked to her side from all over Narnia, drawn in deep by the promise of power – stone statues of animals began appearing in the forests and soon enough, the tree-dryads brought the grave news of the Dwarves having joined Jadis' fast-growing force, crafting fine weapons of steel and iron to feast on our blood. The first time her army and the Narnian army clashed, the plains ran red for days afterwards.

The ballads of my coming turned into battle songs of my might on the battlefield, lyrical stories of how I danced and wove and tore the opposing side apart. The poets were romantics, as all poets tend to be – they exaggerated battles and skirmishes, down-sized wounds and the deaths of my comrades. They omitted all together the nights and days I spent hidden, searching for my Father and lying pressed down to the earth, listening to Narnia grieve her lost children. They turned their eyes away and pretended not to notice my face and hands stained with blood as we returned from battle after battle, weary and bitter and torn apart with guilt – those we killed and were killed by were our Brothers and Sisters, turned away from us and deemed as the Fallen, but nevertheless our people.

(days I would spend in the forests, cradled by the branches of the dryads and mourning – I was crafted so delicately by Aslan, purely of Narnian elements and His breath and sometimes it was as if I was Narnia, and those that fell beneath my arrows and blades were my children.)

Archenland to the south sent us soldiers, sent us supplies, but they grew wary about it all – battles were fought, and battles were lost, but Jadis was magic and she was powerful, and she was cunning, and she had numbers at her side. Narnians were losing both their hope and the war, and our faith seemed like it was no longer enough.

(Narnia never fought a war before, you see – we were a peaceful country, and from the day She was created, Her inhabitants were merry and kind and knowledgeable. We had a King and Queen who were good and loyal and crowned by Aslan Himself, and sure, we had conflicts with the giants to the north and countries further to the south and those who tried to invade and get a stronghold, but they were always solved and Narnia never got the chance to grow.)

In the months that followed, as a Guardian of Narnia – her Warden, her Protector, her Light, her Sword; all those titles and more that were applied to me – I grew in the way that Narnia never did, and I fought and I killed and I changed.

Somewhere in those fields of bloodshed and carnage, of magic flying and trees shuddering, I realized that this was my destiny, the purpose of my creation. So I steeled myself for it, and let the feelings of war overtake the soft voice of Narnia crooning inside of me.

.

.

Jadis' smile is fierce, satisfied – she knows she's won. So does my Queen, and so do I, somewhere deep within my heart. Two years of feuding have passed, and I can feel Narnia beginning to shut down even now, the faintest traces of ice appearing at the edges. The meadow we're in already looks colder, stiller; the frost I felt under my back when I first woke up has been spreading, and there are patterns of it covering the grass. I loved winter in Narnia with all my heart, but right now, I hated the snow that was sure to fall with all that I had.

"The Lady - Amalea," Jadis repeats, striding closer towards me with the grace of a queen - I've always wondered, if somewhere beyond the veil of this reality, she once ruled a kingdom that fell under her fingertips; Narnia has been etched with traces of her since the very beginning of time, but She refuses to tell me the tales.

The Witch's face grows sharper, crueller, as she takes in my appearance; I glare at her, baring my teeth, animal-like – no one here is truly human, a Daughter of Eve, save Her Majesty Desdemona. Jadis is too powerful, too tall and too enchanting to be a real woman – to be a Queen of Narnia.

She motions to my captor and the minotaur steps back, taking his axe with him. I have the space of about five seconds to breathe freely before I'm hoisted in the air by Jadis, her cold fingers wrapped around my neck; my feet dangle a few inches off the ground, for even though I am taller than the average woman of Archenland, Jadis' blood seems to run with that of the giants'. Her fathomless eyes peer into mine, pale pink lips twisted in disgust and mockery as she tightens her hold on my throat. We stare at each for a few seconds, silent, the only noise in the meadow coming from those around us – Akshay's laboured breaths, her creatures' restless shifting; Desdemona's last quiet gasps of air.

I know what Jadis sees, what she finds so disturbing – my eyes are the color of Aslan's, molten gold and slightly ethereal. My hair falls in an untamed wave down my back, a shade off from His mane – it's torn and even more wild than usual, having fallen out of its bun long ago. Black spots dance along the corners of my vision as the fingers tighten and loosen in her anger. I can see her trying to reign it in, to take the moment to boast in her victory – and just like that, as if something has been set aright inside of her, her fingers relax enough for me to breathe and a smile of horrendous beauty overtakes her.

"Daughter of Aslan," she spits out the name, her body twitching just the tiniest bit, and I find in myself a small sliver of satisfaction at the pain His name brings to her. "Do you know why I am here?"

I refuse to answer her, even if her words do make my curiosity rise – the Queen, Akshay and I were thought to be safely hidden away, far from Cair Paravel after it was overtaken. We ran from the house of Badgers that were so kind as to offer us their assistance, to the forests just beyond Rush River. There was no soul alive except the three of us who were aware of where we were—

My blood almost freezes in my body, and my breath along with it – I suddenly have difficulty forcing air into my lungs again, and this time Jadis' hands still holding me up have nothing to do with it.

"Amalea," Akshay repeats himself, and I realize that he must have known this entire time. He doesn't need to say anything else (for he and I have been together since I was created, and he has been my dear and beloved Tiger guard and companion for the entire short period of my life), and a shudder passes through me. My brain refuses to accept the logic, chanting nononono over and over again; Jadis' smile widens, her grip tightening as she takes one hand off to reach somewhere within the folds of her dress.

The item she brings out is small in-between her thumb and index finger, but the sight of it makes all the difference in the world. She holds up the band of pure gold before my eyes, inscribed with bronze – there is only one word on it.

Amalea.

"Do you know whom this belonged to?" Jadis says, voice smooth like churned butter. She holds it still for a few seconds, goading me, before flinging it somewhere on the ground – my eyes follow it, disbelieving, before I turn back to her.

"You lie!" I snarl out, my voice shaking, and start to claw at her hand around my throat. She watches me, amused, before reaching out to catch my left palm with hers – I fall motionless, jaw clenched, knowing what it is that has captured her attention.

"Why," she says, sliding a nearly similar ring off my finger. "You have the exact same one."

It stays there in her grip for a few seconds before joining its partner on the ground. All of a sudden, the Witch's smile drops off her face and she brings me closer, both hands back on my throat as she hisses right to my face. "What fools these humans are," she jeers, voice only loud enough so everyone here can hear her. "So easy to fall to betrayal for petty things such as love."

"YOU LIE!" I roar back at her, attempting to jerk out of her grip; she holds steady as I struggle against her, and everyone in the clearing is silent. I can feel tears beginning to gather at the corners of my eyes and I refuse to let them fall before the enemy, knowing that it'll just bring more pleasure to the Witch.

"I do not lie," Jadis' voice pierces through the haze of emotion that's beginning to settle around me – my eyes seek out hers, and she looks simply gleeful. "Imagine my surprise when a Son of Adam comes before me, offering the life of the barbarian Queen in return for the safety of yours." A sort of trembling instigates within me, small shudders growing to full-out shivers in a matter of seconds; my vision darkens and brightens, the will to fight her just seemingly floating out of me. My hands fall to my sides and I let her hold me there, my posture slack as the shock begins to settle.

"Lea," my Queen calls me from where she is fading from this realm, surely on her way to Aslan's Country. Her voice is weak, but I know that she has the knowledge that she will see Him soon, and her face stays stubborn to the very end.

"My Queen," I acknowledge, just as quiet and defeated, and that is our good-bye.

I'm thrown to the ground and hit with something hard – most likely the minotaur's axe – and the last things I see as my consciousness begins to fade again are the two engagement rings on the ground just out of my reach – one which is inscribed with my name, and the other I know has Gabranth written in the same script – and Queen Desdemona in the background falling to a pool of her own blood as Jadis' retrieves her wand, stained with scarlet, before driving it into the woman's heart.

Akshay roars somewhere from behind me, and I let his name escape my mouth in a whispered prayer before the abyss claims me.

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.

I drift back into consciousness several times during the journey back to Jadis' castle, each time only long enough to be tied up to a tree and fed a meagre amount of gruel served by the minotaur and led somewhere to relieve myself. Akshay and I are forced to separate sides of the encampment each time, and I can sense his eyes on me as I stay silent and unresisting every time I am awake. A sort of fog has set over my brain, clouding all senses and desires to free myself as images play in my head over and over again – Desdemona dead on the grass like so many others that fell before her; the frantic run from the Badgers' house to the forest; and my letter to Gabranth, carried by an owl that volunteered late in the night the day before.

The Queen Desdemona, Akshay and I have gone into hiding a day's ride worth west of the Rush River, in the abode of a kind family of Badgers. I pray to Aslan that He will keep us safe before our troops reorganize themselves after the fall of our Cair Paravel. My heart yearns to see you soon, my beloved. With all my love and may the Lion bless you - Amalea.

If the minotaur ever sees the tears streaming down my cheeks as he carries me over his shoulder with Narnia shuddering under each of his footsteps, he never points them out to me.

By the time we reach the White Witch's castle, hidden between two hills rising to the west of Ettinsmoor, I find that I no longer have any tears left to cry for the man that has betrayed me.

.

.

The Witch's castle is still in the process of being built by the time we arrive. Two tall spikes of towers reach up as if to touch the sky overhead, creatures of Narnia running amock as they hurry to finish it. It stands glistening under the sun, made entirely of solid ice – we pass through a courtyard leading up to the entrance, and I take in the stone statues of my brethren littering the grounds with empty eyes. Akshay has been quiet the entire time as well, and I wonder not for the first time what it is that Jadis plans to do with us.

"Take them," the Witch orders her servants, speaking for the first time since Desdemona's death, still floating above the clouds from her conquest. My heart begins to pound as the Wolves drag Akshay in the opposite direction of where I am being led, nudged along by two Wolves smaller in size than he is, and I begin to struggle against the hold the Fallen Narnian has against me for the first time.

"Shay!" I cry out, clawing at the strong grip of my captor has around me, suddenly desperate to reach my friend. The Witch stops, looking interested as I thrash about for several moments in vain. The Tiger manages a glance back as the Wolves force him along, and his eyes make me stop dead in my attempts.

"This is not good-bye," I vow loudly so my words reach him, setting my jaw and feeling the old spark of myself come back to life, if only just for a moment. Approval shines in his face and I watch him as he disappears behind a steel blue corner, ignoring the creatures that have stopped their work to watch the exchange. I pay no attention to their fascinated, triumphant faces and turn back to my minotaur, shaking his arm off of me.

"I am more than capable of walking by myself," I say, my voice cold and set. He just sneers and pushes me along with the tip of his axe digging into my back, Jadis' chuckles floating behind me. I am taken through the half-finished stronghold – Jadis will not be able to sit at the throne of Cair Paravel, for only a Son of Adam or a Daughter of Eve is permitted there – and the knowledge brings a warm glow of sick pleasure in me. Statues are set in disarray everywhere, from small brave mice with their swords in their paws to charging centaurs, proud and noble even in their petrifaction. I pass with my back held straight and chin up, refusing to bow to anyone in the presence of the Fallen Army; it is only when I am thrown into a cell below grounds in the dungeons and locked away that I let my shoulders slump and eyes close.

I dream of recurring memories of days spent with Desdemona at Cair; of learning the beauty of Narnia with Akshay by my side, ever patient; of battles fought and late nights of strategy meetings; and of a soldier from Archenland, fair-haired and dark-eyed – the days spent together both training and alone, held comfortably within his warm embrace and feeling as if no evil could reach me there. Nights spent in each other's company, his lips on mine and the passion of fire between us – his words, heavy with emotion and eyes full of love as he whispers in the dead of night; "Become my betrothed, my darling Amalea."

The finger where my ring sat for several weeks sat feels heavy even though it is empty. I stare at it for hours at a time, chasing the feelings of heartbreak and love away as best as I can – with hate. My blood begins to heat as I let the warrior persona of myself overtake me, whispering words of How dare he betray Narnia into my ear. Jadis stops by after what must be not even a day, her skin paler than ever in the harsh lighting of the dungeons.

"Daughter of Aslan," she sneers at me from the other side of the bars. I take note of the diadem of icicles now crowning her head, and feel sick. "Your lover has betrayed you. He lies dead in the courtyard, his bones scattered among the statues of dumb animals." I clench my jaw at her words, a morbid sort pleased feeling rising at the bottom of my stomach. She leans as close as she can to the barrier between the two of us, her wand clenched tight in her hand.

"Tell me where your Father is," Jadis says, voice quiet but hard, but almost as if trying to persuade me. "And I will not kill you in agony."

A mad sort of laughter comes out of my mouth before I can stop it. "You must be joking, Witch," I sneer at her, teeth pulled back as we glare at each other. "I would rather have all of my fingers chopped off and my ribcage torn out by your Wolves than betray my country."

The grip she has on her wand has tightened so much I can see her muscles moving underneath her skin. "If that is what you wish," she whispers and lifts her head, staring me down. "You will be publicly beheaded by the Eastern Sea in two days time." That smile of everything wrong in the world plays onto her mouth again, made almost sweet by her beautiful facade. "I will lop your head off myself."

I watch her disappear up the stairs with an almost insane glint in my eyes. "One day," I call to her back, and she pauses. "Aslan will find you, Jadis, and your immortality will come to an end once and for all."

It is she who laughs this time, and replies, without turning to face me – "Where is your Lion at this very moment, barbarian? He has abandoned His country, and it is mine to rule."

And then she is gone, and I am left with my breath forming clouds of white in the air from the cold and the silhouettes of Narnians frozen into the walls of the cells.

.

.

The surroundings of my dream are dark, stretching on forever. I gaze around, trying to find a pinprick of light, feeling dismayed.

"My Daughter," says a voice behind me, and I whirl around to face the great form of Aslan.

"Father!" I cry, running forward to throw my arms around His mighty neck. He lets me burrow my face into His mane, inhaling the scent of peace and serenity. "Where have you been all this time?" I ask, eyes glistening once I step back to gaze at Him.

He looks back at me, His eyes reflecting a pain and sadness unfathomable for someone such as I. The golden of His fur glows in the darkness, warming my heart. "It is not my place to interfere, dear one," He says, and I frown.

"I don't understand," I admit, one hand still clutched in the comfort of His fur. Aslan lets me, reminding me of the days I would spent curled up in-between His great paws, learning of the Narnian sky and stars. A sort of chuckle comes from the Lion's mouth, deep and ever-knowing.

"But you will one day," He says, voice quiet, and I can't help but bristle. I chew at my lower lip, caught up in a wave of grief all of a sudden – it feels as if the burden of a hundred mountains has settled over my shoulders, casting me under their mighty weight.

"Oh, Aslan, Aslan," I murmur, tears beginning to pour down my cheeks. I let them, unashamed to break down before the figure of my Creator. "What is my purpose in this world, now? My beloved Queen and friends have fallen, my Kingdom is being blanketed by snow, and my lover has taken my trust and shattered it. What is it that I am left to do?"

"Daughter," says the Lion, and with that one word and look in His eyes I realize that He has created this country and knows of the grief running within my veins, perhaps even more so than I do. "There is a purpose in everyone - yours lies far off from here, when the snow has lifted and when Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sit at the thrones of Cair Paravel."

"The snow shall never lift," I reply bitterly, for I have seen Jadis for all that she was a long time ago. "The Witch is cruel and greedy, and she will fight tooth and nail to keep her hold of Narnia covered with snow."

"Do you doubt me, Daughter?" Rumbles the great Lion, His voice reverberating through my bones, and I fall silent, reminded once more of just who stands before me. "You may hate me now, but I will grant you two choices." He pauses, watching me, and my grip on His mane tightens. I could never hate Him. "You may lie here and die by the hand of the White Witch and have your bones scattered in the wind alongside the traitor you call your lover. Or you will come to where I take you, to a land so far away that even I cannot reach you there as I am now, and wait for my call to fulfill your purpose in Narnia."

A deep-seated anger starts up in my breast at the mention of my fiancé; I had loved him dearly, with all my heart, but he had betrayed Narnia and my love for Aslan and my country was even greater than the Eastern Sea. "I will follow you to wherever you wish to take me, Father," I reply, raising my head and strengthening my voice. The Lion brings His nose upon my cold forehead in approval, and a feeling of joy spreads throughout me.

"Remember me, my Daughter, for I never abandon what is mine." He says, the words filling my skull as I close my eyes to listen to Him. I begin to feel light, as if I am being lifted by the playful winds of Narnia, tossed about from cloud to cloud. "Remember that your flesh and blood is made of Narnian soil and Narnian air. Remember that your very own life was blown into you by my breath, and that Narnia is the true home of your heart. No matter how far you will go, never forget that you are made of light and that you shall forever have a purpose to fulfill."

I rise and step back from my Father as He gives off a mighty roar, shaking me to my core, and in the darkness there comes light – it splits down, rips through the fabric of the abyss and hums with life. I stare at the doorway for a few moments, transfixed, before turning back to Aslan and winding my arms around Him one last time.

"Thank you, Father," I whisper, and feel one of His paws gently embracing me back.

"Be strong, Amalea," He states and pushes me back lightly, urging me on. I gulp down my fears and insecurities, trusting in His words, and head for the doorway of light made entirely in the confines of my mind.

Goodbye Narnia, I bid to the land, and it whispers back, caressing my soul with her gentle love.

Goodbye, dear one.

I step through without looking back.

.

.

There is some sort of shift in my surroundings – a feeling of moving, something warm beating around my body. My breaths come in shorter, my eyes closing by a will not my own – the silence is broken by voices, loud and shouting something. My limbs feel as if they are growing smaller, my body not my own and different. I feel – soft. Frail.

I open my eyes to the light, and what is left of me recognizes the blurry figures above me as humans. Then I am swept away, to a place hidden somewhere deep within this thin shell, and let instincts take over.

I open my mouth and begin to wail – somewhere within those screams of an innocent, I think I can hear a lion's one final roar.

"Congratulations," comes a man's voice from somewhere beyond the haze as my consciousness curls into itself and begins to slumber. "You have a daughter."

Please leave a review if you've gotten this far - I look forward to hearing what you guys have to say. :)