Only Just

by literary deviant

Edmund has completely frozen in his spot where he is about a few feet behind Peter, and he stares up at Jadis with a kind of fascinated horror. "What have you done?" he breathes, his horror-struck voice barely above a whisper. Because now the White Witch stands before them in all her terrible, beautiful glory, flesh and blood once more.

2. Chapter 2: Faithless

Disclaimer: I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia. Edmund Pevensie is - sadly - still not mine. *sigh* Please don't sue.

2. FAITHLESS

{ "Faithless is that he says farewell when the road darkens." – J. R. Tolkien }

Lucy doesn't know where she is. She is clueless to where they are heading. During her years as a reigning queen of Narnia, she knew Narnia better than the back of her hand. She knew how to reach the Eastern Sea from a pathway not far from Cair Paravel, she could navigate through the Shuddering Woods, and could have made her way through the south, her domain of Narnia, even if she were blindfolded. She had every inch of her land memorized from her home, Cair Paravel, in the north, to the lamppost on the edge of its borders. Every stick, every pebble, had permanently engraved itself into her mind.

But that was then; this is now.

The young queen no longer knows this place as she has before; it is different, and at certain times and locations, practically unrecognizable. It mourns her to know so much of the Narnia she knew has been lost; the trees cut down, civilization driving away Talking Animals from their homes, rivers that have run dry, Cair Paravel, the once magnificent palace that could be seen over all the trees in all far away corners of the kingdom, reduced to dust and ruins.

Her Narnia is gone. A wilder, more barbaric and savage one has taken its place.

The Witch keeps a steel-tight grasp on Lucy's wrist, her grip rough as stone, her skin an icy cold that freezes Lucy's blood in her veins. She is cold and imposing as she drags her captive though the thicket, not slowing down in the slightest as thorns and tree branches tear through Lucy's gown and become entangled in her hair, ripping it painfully from her scalp. The Witch hasn't uttered a word since they disappeared from the How, and Lucy finds her silence more than a little disconcerting. They now are traveling through a thick wood, Jadis dragging Lucy roughly in order for the younger girl to keep up with the false queen's long strides. The foliage and underbrush in this forest is thick, thicker than that of the Shuddering Woods has ever been, even during the Golden Age. She rationalizes that she could be in the Western Wood, but she couldn't be sure. If Edmund were here, he would know. That part of woods had always been his domain. Even as changed as they are after so many centuries, she has no doubt that her youngest brother would be able to recognize them.

Edmund. Thinking of him makes Lucy think of her other siblings as well, of Peter and Susan, and even of Caspian and Trumpkin, and of all her new Narnian friends she has met since entering Narnia for the second time (well, technically, she reminds herself, for me it's the fourth time.) through the train station. But mostly, she thinks of her siblings; she remembers the looks on their faces as the Witch was released, remembers Peter's guilt, and Susan's disbelief, and Edmund's look of utter horror. She remembers the loud crack her brother's head made as he hit the stone wall, and is suddenly made very painfully aware of the cordial hidden underneath her attire, a cordial that her siblings will not be able to use to heal Ed of his injuries, which are most likely very severe. This realization sends a slight tendril of panic to unfurl in her chest. The thought of her brother, dying from a nasty head wound, pops into her head so suddenly and unexpectedly that she stops dead in her tracks, trying to suppress the sudden taste of bile rising up in the back of her throat.

Her stopping causes the Witch, who is continuing forward, to be pulled back abruptly, like a dog on a leash, not expecting the abrupt stop. She looks back at the Valiant Queen with a look of mass-irritation before giving a rather strong pull on her wrist, yanking her forward as she once again stumbles forward in effort to keep up. "Keep up now, would you?" she snaps, the first words she has spoken since the How. "I can't afford to be delayed."

"Then maybe if you will just let me go," Lucy tries, "then you will not have to worry of such." She knows though, even as she says the words, that the Witch will never listen. After all, Jadis took her for a reason. Leverage, perhaps? Jadis does not answer, simply continues to tug her along, and Lucy speaks up, "Where is it exactly that you are taking me?"

"Never you mind," the other responds. "You'll know when we arrive there."

"And when will that be?"

Once again, she receives no answer. Not that she expected one.

"I don't know exactly what you're planning to do with me," she starts again, marveling at her own courage for saying what she's about to say, "but whatever it is, you won't get away with it."

The Witch slowly pivots in her place, not looking threatened by Lucy's words at all; if anything, she looks amused. "Is that so?" she says, the lilt in her voice betraying her amusement, and that she has absolute confidence that she in fact will get away with it, whatever it is.

"My siblings won't just let you take me. They will search every corner of every world until they find me and get me to safety, and I pray Aslan have mercy on you when they do."

The Witch waves a hand through the air, deeming the threat of her brothers and sister unimportant, which makes Lucy feel slightly irked. "Your siblings are no threat to me. They are weak, cowardly. They fear me, and as a result of that fear, are leaving themselves vulnerable. You are mere children." A smile curves at her lips. "Your brother could hardly hold his sword up he was shaking so badly," she says snidely, and Lucy feels a surge of anger rush through her on Edmund's behalf.

She glares at the woman before her, her bottom lip trembling in suppressed anger. "You underestimate them," she tells her coldly, "and my brother is one of the bravest people I have ever met, so don't you dare say a word against him."

In the depths of her fathomless eyes, Lucy sees a flash of rage, but Jadis quickly recovers herself, shrugging and gazing at her coolly. "It is no matter to me," the ice queen says offhandedly. "Soon I shall get what I desire, and if I were to kill you, no one is stopping me. Your siblings will not save you."

"That does not matter, so long I have faith. I shall place myself in the Lion's paws and trust Him."

Jadis' lips thin. "Your prayers are fruitless. The Lion is not with you."

Lucy raises her chin defiantly. "He is always with me. Wherever I may be, He is there."

Jadis' nostrils flare and her grip on the Valiant's wrist compulsively tightens. Lucy cries out and reflexively tries to yank free, which only causes to send another sharp jolt of pain through her arm. "Your Lion is nothing, understand? Nothing!"

And then, with renewed vigor, Jadis continues to drag her as they continue their journey forward. This time, Lucy does not speak and lets the oppressive silence swallow them up once more.

They rush through the forest, Lucy's garments snagging on branches and leaving them ripped beyond repair. They continue on, Lucy's legs aching, begging for reprieve, for about five minutes longer when there is the sound of a twig snapping from somewhere behind them. This time, not just Lucy freezes, but the Witch as well.

She slowly turns in place, peering around the thick underbrush. "Who is there?" she demands. "Reveal yourself!"

There is no answer but the wind. There is nothing but silence.

Then there is a sudden loud cry as a dark shape at the edge of Lucy's vision comes hurtling out of its place hidden among the trees, crashing into Lucy with full force. She lets out a high-pitched scream, more out of surprise than actual fright, and is thrown to the ground, impacting in a way that will surely leave a bruise. All the air rushes out of her, her vision unfocused as she grapples for her right boot where she has hidden her dagger inside.

But there is neither need or time for her to draw her weapon as the blurred form that knocked into her is plucked off her as lightly as one will pluck a flower, as if he weighs close to nothing. Lucy scrambles up into a sitting position, blinking to focus her vision, eyes wide in alarm as she takes in the sight before her.

The Witch, her face looking feral, is gazing up at the man who trampled Lucy, who she now holds in a choke-grip with her right hand, lifting the man high up in the air. The man, who's face is rapidly changing colors as he claws desperately at his neck, clawing futilely at the fingers that are cutting off his air supply, has dark hair and a not-too-lengthy beard, the end of which is turning white. He is darkly skinned and is wearing battle armor, carrying a sword in its sheathe at his side. He's a Telemarine.

"Stop it!" Lucy cries. "Stop it, put him down!" Even though he is a Telemarine, and all Telemarines she has met have been set out to kill Caspian and them, and help Miraz gain control over Narnia, she isn't going to let a man be strangled, no matter the circumstances, not when they have done nothing wrong (sure, he attacked her, but they don't know why he had; innocent until proven guilty, after all).

To her surprise, the Witch listens to her and drops the soldier. He falls to a heap on the ground, scrambling backwards and away from the icy woman that can instill fear in the hearts of even the bravest man. But he has made one fatal error in this move, for he now finds himself backed up against a tree with no route of escape as the fearsome Witch Jadis strides up to him, a cold fury held behind her calculating eyes. He is trapped as the Witch presses the end of her wand to his throat. He gulps nervously, eyes crossed as he stares down of it.

"What is your name, Son of Adam? Who do you serve?"

The Telemarine's face is bone white with fear when he replies, "I go by the name of Sopesian, my lady. I, like every other Telemarine of these parts, serve the rightful king of this land."

The Witch's eyes narrow. "Rightful king? You serve the weak boy given the undeserving title of 'Magnificent'?"

Lucy sees the confusion in Sopesian's eyes, and as he opens his mouth, she cuts in, "Perhaps it would be best if we were to let him go! He's very obviously a Telemarine, he's not likely to know anything useful!" She knows her voice sounds desperate, but she can care less. She absolutely cannot let Jadis know of Miraz. Call it guidance from Aslan, a queen's intuition, or some kind of other greater power, but everything inside her is telling her to get Jadis away, to shut Sopesian up. The Witch cannot know of Miraz, she cannot.

But Jadis opts for ignoring her, pressing her wand farther into the Telemarine's windpipe. "Who do you serve?" she asks again, this time more forcefully.

"King Miraz," Sopesian gasps, his voice raspy. "He is King of this country. I know nothing of this 'Magnificent' you speak of."

Jadis tilts her head to the side, considering. "Interesting," she murmurs. "Tell me, Sopesian, why were you attempting to assault the girl?"

Although Lucy rather wishes Sopesian will shut up, she can't help but be curious of the same thing. Why did this Telemarine attempt to attack her?

"I shall tell you not a thing, woman," he says. "I shall not betray my king by giving away his orders." Still, Lucy can't help but think how this resolution won't last judging by how petrified he looks.

Jadis's eyes flash. "You will tell me this instant or I shall slowly turn your body to stone and then crush each part of you piece by piece."

The Telemarine visibly pales. "My King Miraz has received news from an anonymous source that the youngest Queen of Old had been kidnapped. He asked me and few other of his most trusted men to search the woods for her in order to capture her himself, in hopes of luring his nephew and the other Kings and Queen of Old."

Lucy frowns. Anonymous source? What anonymous source?

"This Miraz you speak of," the Witch begins, "he wishes to kill the royal siblings? To take over Narnia?"

Sopesian nods a yes to both questions.

A cold smirk spreads its way across the Witch's face, and the look itself makes Lucy shiver, her stomach filled with dread. This is not good.

"It sounds as though this 'king' of yours has his priorities straight," Jadis observes. Slowly, she lowers her staff from Sopesian's throat. "I will let you go, on one condition," she concedes. "You take me to your king. It seems as though we will have a lot to discuss, and much to achieve."

And Lucy's insides fill with panic as she wonders where in all possible dimensions Aslan is now.

oOoOoOo

"Ow! Susan, would you watch it? That hurts!"

"Well, it wouldn't so much if you'd only stop squirming—" There is a loud hiss of pain, and then a huff of annoyance. "Edmund! Stop. Moving! Just lay still, will you?!"

"I'm trying! Pardon me if it's a bit difficult with you poking a needle through my skull."

"Well, then try harder."

Susan Pevensie, Gentle Queen of Narnia, is sitting up against the hard stone wall of a chamber in the How. Her spill of dark hair falls into her face, her head bent downwards, her expression contorted into one of concentration as she worries her bottom lip, staring down at the pale boy who's head rests in her lap. Her hands are shaking only slightly, almost unperceptively, as she holds a needle between her fingers and uses it to stitch up the wound on the younger boy's head. Her hands are sticky with his blood.

Edmund, the boy in her lap, is wincing and squirming as she does this, wearing a pained expression. He fidgets again, causing the needle to miss and dig sharply into his scalp. "Ow!" he yelps, giving his sister a scathing glance.

Catching his look, Susan frowns at him. "Oh, stop being such a baby, Ed. You've had much worse."

"Try having a needle strung through your scalp, and see how you like it," he snaps.

Susan frowns. "I'm only trying to help," she says softly. She sounds hurt, and Edmund sighs, looking up at her apologetically. How many people's feelings is he going to hurt? First Peter, and now Susan. (Not, Edmund reminds himself, that Peter didn't deserve it.)

"Sorry, Su. I didn't mean to snap."

Susan sighs, pulling on the string around the needle and cutting it, knotting it and setting the needle on the ground beside her as she finishes the stitching. "I know, Ed, really. We're all just frustrated and feeling useless. You're just taking all of it out on me without meaning to, and I don't blame you; Peter got the brunt of mine earlier. Him and Caspian were bickering like children."

"Nothing new then," Edmund comments, knowing his brother's misgivings when it comes to the Telemarine prince.

It is still dark out, only a few hours since Lucy's kidnap, though it feels like much longer. Edmund hasn't gotten any sleep, despite Susan's urgings. How can he, with Jadis out there? He can't stop thinking about Lucy, or of what can be being done to her at Jadis' hand. In the hours that passed, he found himself unable to drift off to sleep, his thoughts too troubling, and the cold floor too uncomfortable. His mind ran rampant with possibilities of what pain the Witch could be inflicting on his baby sister. The gruesome things he imagined made him sick to his stomach.

So now, as Susan finishes stitching up his wounds (she insisted), Edmund leans back in her lap, eyelids fluttering, stifling a yawn. No, he will not fall asleep. Not when Lucy's still out there somewhere with Jadis and there is a decision to be made; not while their forces stand outside waiting for their next orders. Not with the White Witch and Miraz still out there to deal with. Narnia is in more danger than ever before. He can't allow himself the luxury of being reprieved of his duties as King (whether he still holds that title, or not.)

Susan looks down at him, brushing a few strands of dark hair from his forehead. "You should get some sleep," she tells him softly.

Edmund closes his eyes briefly and allows himself to imagine for just an instant, the prospect of actually obeying her request, of drifting off and letting the blissful darkness swallow him, where he won't have to deal with all the hell that is currently breaking lose around him; where he can imagine that Lucy is safe and sound, sleeping soundly somewhere elsewhere, undisturbed. But hiding from your problems never helps anyone, and he knows that he can't.

Edmund lets out a reluctant sigh, reopening his eyes. "No, I can't. Not with everything that's happening." He struggles to sit up, his head still throbbing from Susan's stitches, though feeling significantly better than it did yesterday. "We can't afford to waste time, not with the Witch out there, not with Miraz. Especially with Lucy—"

He lets out a shuddering breath that wracks his whole body. Lu. How on earth will they get her back? How can they—how can he—get through this? Defeating the Witch once is one thing, but to do it a second time, and with so small an army…

He sighs, fists clenching and unclenching, feeling utterly drained. Through disheartened eyes, he looks up at his sister. "Su, what are we going to do?"

Susan sighs as well, looking just as utterly drained as he is, and it's only then that he takes in her appearance. Her face is pale, paler than its usual porcelain color, and her lips are chapped and bitten. Her hands, covered in his blood, are shaking slightly, and her eyes are rimmed with red and shadows, assuring that he isn't the only one who got no sleep last night.

She shakes her head. "I don't know, Ed, I just don't know," and Edmund is struck with a sudden urge to embrace his elder sister and tell her everything will be alright. Because she's as lost as he is, he realizes. They all are.

He takes her hand. "It'll be alright, Susan. It always is." She manages a weak smile.

The sound of shuffling footsteps interrupts the short silence, and both siblings turn to see Peter, face worn and tired-looking, standing in the doorway of the stone room. He looks dead on his feet, as if he could drop any moment. Edmund's chest immediately tightens at the sight of him, though whether it is out of anger, or regret for what he said earlier, he isn't sure. He still feels betrayed by his brother's thoughtless actions, and he's not ready to forgive him just yet.

"Morning, Susan," Peter greets her. "Edmund," he nods in his direction. Peter's eyes are more cautious when addressing him, as though he's treading carefully, not wanting to set his little brother off. Edmund can see the underlying guilt in his blue eyes, but still can't bring himself to utter an apology.

Edmund nods curtly in acknowledgement, but makes no verbal reply. Peter seems slightly hurt by this as he moves to sit with them, kneeling down next to Susan. Edmund sits himself up with only a slight wince, so he is no longer laying in her lap.

"Are you alright, Ed?" Peter asks, eyes roaming over his body as if searching for any visible sign of injury. "All stitched up?"

"I fixed him up fine," Susan replies before he can open his mouth to respond. "I will say I did a rather fine job considering that he was squirming around and complaining like a big ol' baby."

Edmund huffs. "I was not."

"You were," Susan replies with a half smirk. "You're almost as bad as Peter."

"Hey!" Peter protests.

Susan shakes her head. "Don't you even try and deny it, Peter, you know it's true. If you were to ask me, I would reckon you boys rely on Lucy's cordial too greatly."

It is suddenly as if all the air has been sucked from the room at the reminder of Lucy. Edmund can very clearly feel the sudden tension; it's that palpable.

Lucy. Lucy is gone, and they have a decision to make and it has to be made before next nightfall. Will they agree to surrender their army in order to get Lucy back, the army that's already rapidly dwindling in numbers? If they decide to do that it will leave them helpless against Jadis, not to mention all of the Telemarines. But if they don't, then Lucy…

No. Edmund stops his train of thought before it can go any farther. We'll save her. We have to. We'll find another way.

"Peter, we have to do something," Susan voices Edmund's thoughts. "Lu's out there somewhere; she could be hurt. Only Aslan knows what she is going through. We have to get to her somehow."

Peter sighs, running a hand through his golden locks, something Edmund knows to be a habit of his when he's feeling frustrated. "You think I don't know that? I'm the one who released the Witch. I'm the one who put Lucy in danger. I'm to blame for all of this."

"Nonsense. This isn't your fault; it's no one's, really." Susan looks to her brother as if expecting him to say something reassuring to Peter as well, but Edmund says nothing of the sort, just pressing his lips together in a thin line, not meeting either of his siblings' eyes.

All is silent for a moment, and Edmund can feel his brother's eyes on him. Then Peter turns his gaze to Susan. "I thought you would be furious with me," Peter says. "Especially after what occurred amid Caspian and I."

Edmund wonders what occurred between him and the prince. Edmund knows Peter dislikes Caspian, and vise-versa, and Peter must have said something truly bad if he feels guilty because of it. Harsh words have been traded between the pair of them before, and neither of them ever seems as if they regret what has been said in the slightest.

Susan huffs at that. "Don't even mention that name to me, Peter Pevensie!" she says, working herself up into a rage. "I was mad enough at you for releasing Her—but for Caspian to have the nerve—the idiocy—to call her up in the first place-! You, I suppose, I can make allowances for. She lured you in; but with Caspian, he had a choice in the matter. He chose to call her up, even before she could start to work her magic on his mind! He has all but betrayed us—where is his faith, his loyalty?"

Edmund takes in his sister's words, marveling on how completely her feelings and opinions have changed toward the prince. Just yesterday she was talking of what a marvelous king he would make, smiling brightly, eyes full of warmth. But, still, no matter how angry Susan is, Edmund knows that anger is not her most dominant emotion she's feeling toward Caspian: she is disappointed in him. She expected better.

Just like, he supposes, he expected better of Peter.

Peter closes his eyes, the guilt once again surfacing on his face. "She lured me," he says in a strained voice, and neither of them has to ask who he's talking about. "I shouldn't have listened but it was like I was hypnotized—I couldn't look away." He looks down. "I'm sorry."

Susan shakes her head. "I know you are. But I just don't understand how you—how he—could listen to her, after all she has done to us."

"I do," Edmund says softly. He sees Peter's head whip up to look at him, eyes hopeful, thinking, maybe his brother might be starting to forgive him, but Edmund doesn't meet his eyes, and he can see Peter deflate in hurt and disappointment.

"Edmund," Susan starts in what's supposed to be a comforting tone but does nothing to soothe him now, "this is nothing like what happened with you and the Witch. You were manipulated; Caspian chose to release the Witch, he had a choice—"

"So did I," Edmund points out. "No one forced me to leave the Beavers' Dam that day."

Susan opens her mouth to protest, along with Peter, most likely to start the familiar 'you-really-need-to-stop-beating-yourself-up-over-this' lecture,but Edmund shakes his head, trying to signal to his siblings that it doesn't matter. They will never understand, anyway. Besides, they don't need to focus on what Peter calls his guilt complex that 'rivals the size of even Narnia Herself'. Right now they need to focus on Jadis; on Lucy, and how they are going to get her back.

"We're going to have to tell them, you know," Edmund says.

Peter looks at him, baffled. "Who?"

"The Narnians," he clarifies in a 'duh' sort of voice.

Peter pales significantly while Susan looks to Peter. "He's right, you know. They need to know what's going on and that one of their Queens is missing. They deserve to know." She looks imploringly at him.

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "I know, I know." He buries his face in his hands. "They'll all hate me."

Seeing his brother like this, Edmund has to fight back the instinctive urge to comfort his brother. It is something he is used to doing, and watching Peter in this state, not doing anything to help, feels wrong and foreign.

It is Susan who comes to his aid today. "They won't hate you," she says reassuringly, gripping his shoulder. Her voice is firm and confident, but Edmund is glad that Pete isn't looking up, for her slight doubt shows in her eyes.

"Who knows," Edmund says, wanting to see some reaction from his brother other than the most recent anger and guilt, something that he can actually recognize, "they might hate you. Probably will, actually."

Susan elbows him sharply in the side at his careless words and offhand tone. The unexpected blow causes him to double over, bruises from a few hours ago still tender.

Peter flinches, and for a second he looks angry, but then he's back to being guilty, slumping where he sits. Edmund inwardly sighs.

Come on, Peter, you need to stop this. We need you; Narnia needs you. And they don't need angst-ridden Peter, or raging-teenager Peter; they need their High King.

"What will I tell them?" Peter asks, lifting his head from his hands.

"The truth?" Edmund suggests, the words coming out a bit harsher than he meant them to.

Susan puts a calming hand on his shoulder. "You'll tell them what you have to," she tells him. "And together, we'll get Lucy back."

oOoOoOo

Hours later, when the first rays of daylight are just barely beginning to light up the sky, Edmund stands outside the How, sword sheathed at his hip, right hand closed around the hilt, posture tense as he watches Peter and the Narnians. Susan is next to him, looking truly like a huntress, with her bow strapped to her back, her dark, tangled hair falling over her shoulders. She watches Peter as well, who is standing slightly in front of them, the Narnians gathered around them all, waiting for their High King's next words. Caspian stands off to the right, casting occasional glances at Susan when she isn't looking. Edmund wishes he wouldn't. He knows that Caspian feels guilty, and that he cares for Susan, but that still doesn't give anyone the right to look at his sister like that.

"Cousins, friends," Peter begins, "I have gathered you all hear to inform you of events that took place last night near the Stone Table. As you might have noticed, one of my royal sisters is not present with us." He takes a deep breath, and Edmund can see the struggle going on in his head.

"Queen Lucy has been captured by the White Witch."

Edmund expects roars from all the Narnians, disbelieving shouts and outraged yells. But instead there is only a deadly silence from the assembled crowd, the tension and fear and disbelief so thick that he feels he can suffocate in it. They seem to go still, the way a pride of lions might go still when it spots a gazelle.

"Captured by the White Witch?" someone repeats incredulously. Upon farther inspection, Edmund can see that it is a Skunk. She is partially concealed near the back of the crowd. "Impossible. Whatever do you mean by that?"

"I think it is quite clear what His Majesty means," says a Leopard near the front. Her majestic, speckled fur is dirtied from the raid, and her black eyes, with no irises, only pupil, blaze fiercely and determinedly and made one think of dark tunnels. "Our Queen has been kidnapped by Jadis Herself, and we must see to it that she is returned to us safely."

"Absurd!" calls out another voice. "The Witch is dead! We all know the stories; Jadis is in the ground, Aslan put her there Himself!"

A ripple of whispers seem to go through the crowd at this assessment. Edmund contemplates for a moment saying that technically Jadis was never in the ground per se, since from what he has heard of it, her body melted into nothingness after Aslan ripped her head off, but he figures this isn't relevant to the situation and wisely keeps his mouth shut.

"That is true," Peter says, nodding his head at the Animal that spoke respectively, though Edmund can see a hint of anger beneath his brother's calm mask, annoyed at being spoken to that way. "But a fort night ago, she returned, by way of an old and ancient Magick, and took our Queen hostage." His eyes are blazing at these words, and fear is emanating off the crowd in strong waves. Though a few of them still shift uneasily, not believing, not willing to believe, so Peter says, "My siblings and Prince Caspian were also present when these events occurred. They will be able to verify the validity of my words."

All eyes immediately turn to either Edmund, Susan, or Caspian, supposedly waiting for one of them to step forward and verify this explanation. Caspian shifts uncomfortably under the scrutiny and Susan makes no move to step up to the plate either, so with a slight sigh, Edmund steps forward so he is now standing in the front of the crowd next to his brother.

"It is true; I saw her," he tells them, and is proud of himself when he manages to keep his voice steady. If there is anyone who has the power to make him terrified by just their mere name, it is the White Witch. "I saw her there, flesh and blood. She has returned, called up by an Old Magick, such of the kind I haven't seen since my siblings' short reign in Narnia; I even have the bruises to prove it, and she has taken my sister hostage." He glares at them all, feeling incredibly frustrated with them. "She is your Queen and if you care about her at all, then you all would be working on a plan to get her back instead of bickering like useless idiots."

The crowd goes deadly still at Edmund's fierce words, looking stunned. Quite honestly, Edmund feels stunned as well. Where did that come from? Pent-up frustration, perhaps? Misplaced anger? He's not sure, but either way, it got the job done. Some of the Narnians are looking down in shame while others stare at their Kings with a new determined blaze in their eyes. They will do whatever it takes to get Lucy back, Edmund knows, no matter the consequences. Despite their doubts and misgivings, they are loyal until the end.

The imposing, bronze Centaur, Glenstorm, moves to the front of the crowd and faces Edmund head on. His onyx eyes are filled with respect and unmoving loyalty, and Edmund is reminded ever-so strongly of Oreius in that moment. "What are your orders, My Liege?"

Edmund is momentarily caught off guard that he is the one being asked to give orders; he's not High King. When in Narnia he would often command the troops and armies, issue orders and commands, but most of the time that was when Peter was away or out of commission. Now, as Glenstorm speaks directly to him, Edmund glances back at Peter, but he makes no move to give Glenstorm instructions. Susan wears a small smile directed toward him and is watching the proceedings silently.

Edmund faces Glenstorm and the rest of Narnia's people, the rest of his people, and straightens up, squaring his shoulders. If anyone who doesn't know he is a king is to look upon him in this moment, even they would be able to see the slight aura of power and authority that surrounds him. "The Witch has given us until sunset today to surrender our army or she will kill our Queen," he tells the crowd. Faces become graver at this and there are some fearful gasps. "But she is no Queen as she perceives herself to be, and I will not surrender to her, not today, not any day. The only person I shall kneel to is Aslan."

There are several agreeing yells at this, and Peter shifts uncomfortably. It seems any mention of Aslan makes him uneasy these days.

Edmund continues, "She shall not lay a hand on our Valiant Queen and we shall not forfeit our army. Her request has been denied." He then turns to Glenstorm. "Gather a few of our Birds and send them out in every direction. They can scout for Jadis and maybe catch sight of where she is keeping Lucy."

Glenstorm nods curtly and goes to do just that. Susan mutters something about target practice and walks off. The Narnians take the Queen's departure to mean that the meeting is adjourned and they all begin to disperse.

Edmund sighs, losing his uptight posture as his brother looks at him with something akin to pride, and then claps a hand on his shoulder.

"Well done, brother."

And even though Edmund can't possibly be any angrier with him, he still can't cease the feeling of warmth that spreads through him when Peter speaks the praise.

oOoOoOo

Caspian stands outside of the passageway that leads to the chamber where Queen Susan is currently occupying. He wants to go in and talk with her, to explain and apologize, but he isn't sure; will she spite him for his actions, push him away in favor of her anger? He won't blame her if she does, after what he has done. The guilt is still eating him alive. How could he have done that? How could he have released her? After everything Professor Cornelius told him of her reign of terror in Narnia…

He doesn't know how to feel. It seems all he can feel now is guilt ( that, and spontaneous, unreasonable anger toward Peter). It pains him to admit that when King Edmund approached him about telling the Narnians of the Witch's return, for a moment, he had a traitorous thought: he didn't want to tell them. He didn't want to feel the shame of what he had done, and throughout the whole meeting his guilt came rushing back at full force, and he hadn't been able to stop sneaking glances at Queen Susan no matter how often he tried.

She truly was an exquisite beauty; her porcelain skin and cascade of dark locks. He has never met another woman like her, and it is not just her looks that attract him to her, but her heart, her gentleness. The way she looks after everyone, is willing to help anyone, even a complete stranger. Her heart is one of the purest he has ever seen; truly a Gentle Queen of Narnia. He does not deserve her forgiveness, he knows, but he cannot help but long for it. Because he can't stand the thought of her hating him forever.

"Are you going to just stand there, or are you actually going to come in?" comes Susan's soft voice from beyond the doorway.

Caspian starts, jumping slightly, musing on how he should be more alert. Has she known he was there the whole time?

Palms suddenly feeling sweaty, he wipes them off, feeling unexpectedly nervous as he steps into the stone antechamber. Susan is standing against the wall as she sweeps her thick hair back to drape it over her left shoulder, biting her lip slightly, as if troubled. His breath catches in his throat at just the mere sight of her; no matter how many times he looks upon her, he still can't help being struck by her beauty each and every time. Susan's head turns to look at him for a moment, then she looks away.

"Caspian," she says lightly, her voice tense, careful. "Was there something you needed?"

He clears his throat. "Yes, actually," he says, striding so he is standing only a few feet in front of her. "I came to apologize."

Susan looks down, not meeting his eyes. "What for?" Her voice is oddly strained.

He knows she knows what for, and he tells her so.

"You know what for. I released the Witch."

One of Susan's front teeth digs into her lower lip. "That was an accident. And it is not as though the blame lies with you alone."

It lies with Peter as well. Caspian feels that familiar roar of anger rise up inside of him and he pushes it down. "But I am the one who called her up in the first place." Part of him wants her to deny it, to say that it isn't his fault and he's not to blame, while another part wants her to scream; to get angry, get furious, to hate him because he deserves it. But she does neither, just remaining silent.

"I have committed the ultimate treachery," he says softly, hanging his head in shame.

Susan sighs at this, and finally turns to look at him without looking away this time. "You didn't know," she says, standing up and walking a few paces in his general direction. Despite her words though, she still remains cold toward him; detached.

They are standing mere inches away now, and Caspian raises a hand to maybe grip her shoulder but changes his mind and allows his arm to drop halfway through the motion. "I'm sorry," is all he can think to say. It is pitiful, he thinks. Pathetic.

She sighs, a light, pitying sound. Does she pity him? He doesn't want her anger, but he doesn't want her pity either.

Her voice, when she speaks, is as light as a wind on a spring's day. "What are you sorry for?" She sounds as though she's holding back her anger. He wishes she wouldn't.

He thinks, surely she must know what he is sorry for. Is she really as cruel to make him speak of his sins aloud? Nevertheless, he inclines his head. "Many things," he says. "For the freedom of the Witch and the capture of Her Majesty Queen Lucy. For not having faith that we will beat Miraz. For listening to the horrendous Fell Beasts, and for many more events, events I cannot make up for. I only wish to be able to redeem myself in your eyes."

"You wish for my forgiveness," she notes. It isn't a question, it is a statement. Nevertheless, he nods.

"Yes, I do."

There is a moment of silence and then Susan speaks. "Forgiveness isn't something to be so easily given, Caspian. What makes you believe you deserve mine?" The words aren't harsh as they sound, they are soft, whispered. They aren't meant to be biting or to hurt him; (she's known as the Gentle, after all) he can see she truly is just curious to the answer.

"I don't," he says honestly, without hesitation. "I know I do not deserve your forgiveness or respect, not after Jadis. It would only be fair of you to turn me away, and yet I can no more bear the thought of you being angry with me than I can bear the thought of Miraz ruling Narnia forever." Caspian bows his head. "I have no right to ask for it, but the forgiveness of Your Majesty is all I seek."

For just a moment, a small smile forms on the Queen's face as she says, "Caspian, how many times have I asked you to call me Susan?" Then her expression is serious again. "I'm sorry, Caspian, but if it's forgiveness you want, then I can't give it to you. Not yet."

Caspian closes his eyes, his fingernails biting sharply into his skin. He has expected this, has not expected Susan to just forgive him, but it still strikes a painful cord in his heart nonetheless. Because she was acting so normal towards him, not angry, that for a second he allowed himself to believe that he is forgiven. But it is not to be; his guilt grows stronger and Caspian wonders how much guilt one person can feel. Surely one person alone cannot feel so much remorse? Surely there is a limit, an end.

"Susan, please, I'm sorry…" he tries again. "Please, just tell me what I can do to fix this."

She shakes her head, looking up at him through solemn eyes. "You can't fix it. The Witch is free. She took my sister. The damage has already been done." She sighs. "Please Caspian," she whispers, "I just… I just need some time. To deal with everything. Just please leave me alone."

She might has well of stabbed him through with his own sword. "Susan, I promise to do better. I'll make it up to you," he pleads. "I mean, if you let me, I want to try."

Susan slams her hand down on the stone wall in frustration, and pins him with a sharp, angry look, and Caspian flinches, fearing he has gone too far, has pushed her too hard when she's already on the edge.

She takes slow, even breaths, seeming to be trying to calm herself down. "Look," she tells him, and when she speaks she sounds weary, tired and beyond her years, "I'm sorry if this is hard for you. But I told you what I need. So I can't help feeling like the reason you want my forgiveness is so you can feel better about yourself. That's not my problem." She looks away, and recognizing a dismissal when he hears one, the prince turns away, feeling stung.

When he is at the doorway to the stone passage beyond, he is stopped by her voice calling out, "Caspian."

He freezes and turns his head. "Yes?"

Susan isn't facing him, but rather facing away, looking down. "If it is truly forgiveness you seek and nothing else, then dwell on this: Perhaps I am not the correct one to ask it of."

He waits, thinking that perhaps she will elaborate on her vague words, but she is once again silent. Bowing his head, Caspian reluctantly leaves her chambers, leaving the Gentle Queen alone to her troubling thoughts.

6/24/14: If any of you got an alert that this story had an update, only to see the same 2nd chapter of this story that you already read, I'm sorry about that, and for the fact that I haven't updated for months. I forgot about this story for a while, but I'm slowly starting to get back into it. I promise, this fic will NOT. BE. ABANDONED.

-Phoenix*