AN: Okay so! I always mean to go a little longer between posts, but I'm so excited to see what everyone's reactions will be that I just can't! The Narnia community is so warm and enthusiastic. I just don't have the staying power necessary to resist you all.
This chapter should answer a few questions. (And spawn a few more!) It's also where knowledge of the first Narnia movie becomes necessary, because right from the first sentence I'm basically dropping you into a particular scene and running with it sans lengthy explanation (too late). I just wanted to focus on the parts that are different. So!
Enjoy!
The Winter Prince:
Chapter Two
Once the Wolves were gone, the three remaining Pevensie children scrambled out of their hiding place to check on the Fox who had saved them.
"I wish I could say their bark was worse than their bite," the Fox tried to joke, but a sharp yelp of pain while Mrs. Beaver tended him spoiled the effort.
"Hold still," she admonished. "You're worse than Beaver on bath day!"
"Worst day of the year," Beaver confided to Lucy with a slight chuckle.
"That's all the healing I have time for," the Fox said, getting carefully to his paws.
Susan gasped. "You're leaving?"
The Fox offered her a vulpine bow. "It's been an honor, my queen, but I am under orders from Aslan Himself. Troops have been gathered in the west, and I am off to fetch them."
"You've seen Aslan!" Beaver exclaimed.
"What's he like?" Mrs. Beaver asked excitedly.
"Like everything we've ever heard," the Fox replied softly. He nodded to the Pevensies. "He'll be a great help fighting the Witch."
"We're not planning to fight any Witch," Susan corrected, arms folded across her chest in an unconscious bid for comfort.
The Fox turned desperately to the eldest Human. "Surely," he implored, "King Peter…"
Peter struggled helplessly, looking to his sisters for help. Finally he turned back to the Fox, apologetic and powerless. "We just want our brother back."
"Your brother?" the Fox asked, badly confused as he looked around. "Where is he?"
"The Witch has him," Lucy said softly, burrowing into Susan's side. Her sister lifted one arm, circling it around Lucy's trembling shoulders.
"She don't have nothing that wasn't freely given," Beaver added bitterly. "He's the Winter Prince, and a traitor to all Narnians."
Instead of reacting with shock or distress, the Fox's hackles rose. He sunk close to the ground, teeth bared on a snarl. "Guard your words, Beaver, for they will travel quickly in this wood. You speak of that which you cannot know. Keep your own council and do not burden the rest of us with it!"
"It's the truth!" Beaver insisted, startled by the fierce reaction. "We saw him ride into her castle with our own eyes!"
"Hush, Beaver," Mrs. Beaver urged quickly, wondering herself at the Fox's vehemence.
"Do you know Edmund?" Lucy asked, anxious for any sign of the goodness she knew still existed in her brother. "What happened to him here, really?"
The Fox hesitated, glancing at all the expectant gazes turned to him. At last he sighed, deep and regretful, ears and tail drooping. "Get to Aslan," he told them resignedly. "Word does travel quickly in this wood. More than that I dare not say." He bowed to them all, pausing by Lucy to nuzzle her just below her ear. "Keep your faith, noble queen," he whispered quickly, quietly, and only for her. "As you have surely guessed, there are untold depths to this story. Believe, your Highness, and run to Aslan." The Fox backed away, still smiling at her. "Make haste, my king and queens. I will do what I can for your army."
He took off into the trees before Peter could form another protest.
"What did he say?" Susan asked, looking down at her thoughtful little sister.
Lucy shook herself out of her thoughts, turning to the rest of the party with a smile. "He said to hurry."
So that is what they did.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Because she was content with his service, the White Witch hardly ever saw Edmund. She left Maugrim to deal with his reports and assignments, retaining the old Faun doctor to see to any malady or injury he might acquire. As a reward for his loyalty, she let Edmund choose his own warriors. The number he kept was fluid, growing when individuals appealed to him, shrinking as he dealt with those who crossed him. His two constants were Philip and Bellus, who almost never left his side.
For his part, Edmund knew that Maugrim's position as his superior was another backwards insult. After all, why should a prince report to the Police Captain when there was a queen or, failing that, generals?
But Maugrim didn't like Edmund and tried his best not to be around the boy, so Edmund counted his blessings and embraced the freedom that came of being disliked by his supervisor.
To nurture Maugrim's hatred a little further, Edmund took his time before making his report. He retired to his room, changing from his English clothing into practical Narnian winter wear, including strategic layering of warm long-sleeved shirts, sturdy riding boots and breaches, and his signature black cloak. Next he located and cleaned his sword, then his hunting knife, and restrung his bow. Before he could start fletching new arrows to fill his quiver, Maugrim prowled into his room, rumbling in the usual threatening manner.
Edmund faced him with a bored expression, absently tapping his sharpened hunting knife against one thigh. His report was characteristically brief: "The mission was a success. My brother and sisters are in Narnia."
Maugrim's lips pulled back in a snarl. "So where are they?"
One dark eyebrow arched lazily as Edmund mocked the Wolf with a placid expression. "I was only told to bring them to Narnia, not to the castle. Besides, they were waylaid by a suspicious Narnian. Bringing them with me risked my own capture, and then what use would I be?"
"You assume you have use as you are," the Captain growled, hackles raised as he backed out of the room. He took off down the hall in a sprint, calling for his lieutenants as he caught Edmund's trail to trace it back to his siblings.
Edmund moved to his window to watch the Wolves vanish into the forest, racing toward Beaver's Dam.
"We don't have much time," Bellus murmured, creeping out of the shadows by Edmund's ancient bed.
Edmund was still staring through the window after Maugrim, one hand clenched in a trembling fist around his knife's hilt. "Peter will take care of them," he said, needing to hear the words. "He won't let anything happen to them." The look he sent Bellus was pitifully young, searching for reassurance and understanding.
Bellus bared his fangs in a sneer. "So now you're that little boy again, wanting his nursemaid? The doctor has long been sent away, and Philip even now gathers your Guard as you ordered him to. We have no time for this!"
The boy shook himself, building his determination on the steel resolve of his most trusted warrior. "Right you are," he replied, shoving the knife in its sheath on his thigh. "We have much to do while the night remains. But there is one thing I feel we must add to the end of our little list of chores." He turned in a confidant swirl of black cloak, striding from his room without pause.
Knowing what he meant, Bellus grinned, trotting by Edmund's side as they swept down a narrow hall. "And what is that, my lord?"
Edmund sent him a pleasant smile. "Why, a visit with dear Mr. Tumnus, of course! After all, he's a friend of my sister's." His smile turned grim and just a degree malicious. "We mustn't leave without saying hello."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
After a miserable night spent tromping through frozen woods, Peter wasn't sure how much more patience he could muster for their Narnian guides. "If he tells us to hurry up one more time," the eldest Pevensie threatened, bending so Lucy could hop on his back for a ride, "I'm going to turn him into a big, fluffy hat!"
Lucy giggled into his neck.
"Hurry up, Son of Adam!" Beaver called. "We don't have all day!"
"He is getting kind of bossy," Lucy agreed wisely, hugging Peter.
The distant ring of sleigh bells interrupted whatever Susan meant to say in reply. The Pevensies looked around curiously. Their confused interest took a sharp turn into panic when Beaver cried, "It's her! Run!"
Peter helped Lucy slide back to the ground, grabbing her hand and running for the relative safety of the forest. They hid in the lee of a fallen tree, huddled together in fright.
The sleigh clattered to a halt above their heads. They saw a shadow lean over their shelter for a moment before withdrawing. Beaver waited another minute before heading out to check for safety.
"You're no use to Narnia dead," he told Peter when the boy would have gone too.
"Neither are you, Beaver," Mrs. Beaver said, reaching for him.
He sent her a cheeky grin and scampered out of their hiding place. A moment later, he popped his head over the log, grinning in joy and relief and nearly scaring them all to death. "I hope you've been good, because there's someone here to see you!"
That someone was Father Christmas, resplendent in the traditional clothes of his fables.
"Merry Christmas, sir!" Lucy cried, scrambling over with an excited smile.
"It certainly is, Lucy!" he laughed, passing his warm gaze over her siblings as well. "Thanks to you."
"I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia," Susan said, trying to make things make sense. But honestly, Father Christmas? She looked helplessly at Peter, who shrugged with a grin and stepped forward to join Lucy.
"There wasn't," Father Christmas agreed. "Not for a hundred years. But now the Witch's power is crumbling." He dug in his sleigh, hauling out an enormous bag.
"Presents!" Lucy cheered, clapping her hands in delight.
"Yes!" Father Christmas said with another laugh. He pulled some from his bag, holding them out to Lucy. "These are for you." The first was a small diamond decanter filled with red liquid. "The juice of the fire flower," he explained. "If you or one of your friends is wounded, one drop of this cordial will restore them. And though I do not expect you to use it, this." He handed her a small dagger, which Lucy took without hesitation.
"I think I could be brave enough," she said, looking at Father Christmas but thinking of Edmund and how they would probably have to save him.
He must have understood something of her thoughts because he ran a soothing hand over her hair, smiling at her kindly. "I'm sure you could, but battles are ugly affairs." Then he turned to Susan, pressing weapons into her hands. "Trust this bow," he instructed, "for it does not easily miss."
"What happened," she wondered a little weakly, "to 'battles are ugly affairs'?"
Father Christmas chuckled, handing her a delicate white horn. "While you don't seem to have trouble making yourself heard, when you put this horn to your lips and blow it, wherever you are, help will come."
"Thanks," Susan murmured, cradling her gifts.
Finally he turned to Peter, who fought not to fidget. "These are tools, Peter," he said, giving him a sword and shield, "not toys. The time to use them may be soon at hand. Bear them well." Peter drew the sword, studying it a moment before meeting Father Christmas's eyes and nodding firmly.
"Well!" the jolly man laughed. "I'd best be off! Winter is almost over and things do pile up when you've been gone a hundred years."
"Wait!" Lucy begged, reaching out to grab one of his sleeves. "What about Edmund? Isn't there anything for Edmund?"
Beaver made another angry sound, but Father Christmas merely stilled, watching Lucy sadly. He crouched to be on her level, reaching out to cup her cheek in one hand. "I have not met your brother, dear one," he said softly. "The words you have must be comfort enough for now."
Tears welled in Lucy's expressive eyes. She struggled to be brave, to keep her faith as the Fox had urged. She drew a deep breath and nodded, clutching her presents.
Father Christmas smiled gently. "I will try to seek him out," he promised, "to see what can be done for him. It is Christmas for him too, after all."
Lucy's smile was wet and trembling but filled with relief.
Susan hesitated a long moment. Finally, because some part of her needed to know, she asked, "How can you? Isn't he with the Witch?"
Father Christmas straightened, heaving his sack back into the sleigh. "I fear it may be worse than that, your Majesties," he replied cryptically, climbing in after his bag. "Get to Aslan quickly. He will know what to do. Merry Christmas, and long live Aslan!"
Peter watched him go for a while, thoughts tangled and confused before one realization pushed his terrified concern aside. "He said winter was almost over," he recalled. "You know what that means." He turned to his family, forehead drawn in worry. "No more ice."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Edmund walked into the dungeon the next morning with his head held high, replacing the guards with his own warriors. No one asked questions, mostly because Tumnus was charged with treason and Edmund had a reputation for his deadly low tolerance of traitors. They were his special favorites to deal with.
When he reached the cell, he and Tumnus studied each other for a long moment.
At last Tumnus, broken by punishment, observed, "You're Lucy Pevensie's brother."
Edmund inclined his head. "How did you know?"
One corner of Tumnus' mouth quirked in an almost-smile. He tapped a finger against his own nose. "You have…the same nose." Tumnus struggled to shift into a more dignified position to face his executioner with whatever honor he had left. "I would never have thought she could have a creature like you in her family," he panted, exhausted by pain.
"A creature like me?" Edmund echoed emotionlessly, gaze cold and unreadable as he stared down at the Faun.
"I know you," Tumnus spat. Fury rose in him for Lucy, for Narnia, for the Prophesy that would fall at the feet of this ruthless Son of Adam.
"You know of me," the boy corrected easily.
"You're the Winter Prince. Don't deny it, your lackeys give you away!"
Edmund shrugged. "I have been called that, yes. You are Faun Tumnus, paid operative of the Queen. Don't deny it," he mocked with a wicked smirk, "your scarf gives you away." The Faun seethed uselessly. Edmund cocked his head like a curious bird, studying his captive. "Why are you here, Faun Tumnus? You were safe in the Queen's employ. Why turn on that?"
"Because I believe in a free Narnia!" Tumnus cried, defiant in the face of his own death. "And if being traitor to that Witch means I was able to help Lucy Pevensie on her path to the true throne of Narnia, then I am glad to die for it!"
Edmund's bland expression broke enough to allow a small, pleased smile through. "Well said, Mr. Tumnus." Tumnus blinked, utterly confused. Edmund turned to his Wolf, holding out one hand. "Bellus, the key."
In a few moments, Tumnus was free, still staring in wretched bewilderment. Would they kill him now? Would it be here or outside where the Witch could watch for amusement?
Edmund helped the battered Faun onto the back of a large Snow Leopard that slunk into the dungeon by way of a small hidden tunnel. "Be silent," Edmund warned Tumnus, motioning to a Cheetah, the closest of his planted prison guards. He got a brief nod in response before the Cheetah rushed soundlessly from her post, returning moments later with the remaining three guards that had been stationed on his way down. "The others are waiting for us with Philip by the southern courtyard," Edmund murmured to his soldiers. He turned to Tumnus. "We'll have to move more quickly than we should with you in your condition," he apologized, "but you need to stay quiet. If we're caught here, we're all dead. The Witch has no mercy."
Tumnus nodded mutely, shocked and reeling. Was it possible that all of Narnia had been wrong about the Winter Prince? But then what of the Narnians he had captured and killed, the families he had taken, the lives he had ruined?
"Later," Bellus whispered. "There are untold depths to this story. For now, be still and silent." He surged forward to run point on their escape
Tumnus obeyed.
They met Philip and nearly twenty other Animals in the courtyard, regrouping for only a moment before sneaking away en masse toward the forest. When they made it there, masked by the dawn glare of the sun reflecting off show, when they helped Tumnus onto Philip behind their leader, when they left the castle's shadow and raced for their army waiting in the west, they believed they were truly free.
Edmund, Bellus, and Philip knew better and set the pace at the edge of their endurance.
They knew she would never be satisfied with anything less than blood payment for their deceit. It would not be possible to escape her wrath, not while she lived. They ran, to Aslan and salvation, and prayed they would reach the Lion's protection before the Witch discovered the true nature of their loyalty.
After all, they were of no use to Narnia dead.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Ginarrbrik, searching for the Winter Prince on his Queen's orders, was the one who uncovered the depth of the Edmund's treachery. When the sun hung highest in the blue sky, he cautiously brought her the news, worried that her reaction would lead to his own death.
After an initial burst of fury, the Queen calmed alarmingly. She even smiled as she ordered Ginarrbrik to fetch the bow that hung behind her throne.
It was made entirely of ice so cold it burned his hands. The string was needle-fine icicles all woven together, stretched taut from end to end. Ginarrbrik wondered what its purpose was, since anything so delicate would surely shatter to a thousand pieces if used.
His Queen was standing at the window of the Winter Prince's bedroom, still smiling eerily when he handed her the bow. "Here is a little piece of magic, Ginarrbrik, that I have held in reserve especially for this moment. After all, it is never wise to fully trust a Son of Adam." She raised the ice bow, aiming toward the west, and drew the string to her ear, not seeming to care that she did so without an arrow. "The Narnians think him a traitor already. Now he is one twice over." She loosed her magic by firing the bow, her expression stony in rage. "And all traitors are mine, little prince. You won't get far. Ready my sleigh!" she roared, turning sharply to stride from the room. "We will find the wretch and his family, and leave no part of them for any army to follow!"
She threw the bow aside, its use exhausted. The crystal sound of its shattering fueled her anger as she called her servants to war.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
Susan didn't want to cross the river. Most of the ice was already breaking apart, torn away by frigid rushing water, and none of them knew how long the rest would last. She tried to object, tried to make Peter see reason, but there was really no point. They had to cross the river eventually, and it was better to try over ice than search for a better place downstream.
Beaver started out first, slapping the ice with his tail to check its stability.
"If Mum knew what we were doing," Susan fretted, keeping one eye on the ice and one on Lucy.
"Mum's not here," Peter snapped. Susan frowned at him.
Lucy glanced back at the riverbank and cried, "Oh no!"
Wolves, but not Edmund's. Their brother was nowhere in sight.
"Run!" Peter shouted, seizing Lucy's hand.
They got no further than half way. The Wolves surrounded them, sneering and snarling. The one who appeared to be in charge leapt on Beaver, pinning him down. Peter drew his sword in reaction, frightened and unsure, leveling his weapon on the Wolf while keeping his sisters tucked behind him.
The Wolf laughed at him. "Put that down, boy. Someone might get hurt."
Beaver struggled, trapped and furious. "Don't worry about me! Slit his throat!"
"Leave while you can," the Wolf negotiated, "and no harm will come to your brother."
Peter felt a chill of anger. He lifted the sword tip a fraction higher. "What do you know of my brother?"
"Only that he was safe the last time I saw him, safe and protected, which is more than I can say for you." He pressed down on Beaver's back, forcing a grunt of pain out of the Animal. "Of course it has been nearly a day since we parted. Anything could happen to him while I'm out chasing you, and the Queen has interesting ways of showing her displeasure. Leave now, and I will send your brother after you."
"Maybe we should listen," Susan said, knowing how slim Peter's chances were in a fight. He'd never wielded a sword before, and certainly not in such a desperate situation. She'd already had one brother taken from her. She wouldn't survive the loss of a second.
"Smart girl," the Wolf noted.
"Don't listen to him!" Beaver protested wildly. "Kill him! Kill him now!"
"You don't know how!" Susan cried, pushing Lucy back and wishing she could pull Peter away. "Just drop it!"
Peter hesitated, torn between doubt and determination.
"Narnia needs you!" Beaver begged, reaching for him with one paw.
"What's it going to be, Son of Adam?" the Wolf asked reasonably, pressing harder onto Beaver's small body while the river creaked threateningly and Wolves growled around them. "We're not going to wait forever, and neither is the river."
An idea tickled through Peter's mind.
The river…
Water shattered over the fall, nearly drowning out Lucy's shrieked, "Peter!"
"Hold on to me!" he shouted in return, driving his sword deep into the ice beneath them. His sisters tucked close to his sides, holding him tightly.
Glacial water washed over the aborted battle, sweeping away Wolves and Beavers and Pevensies alike. The children clung to Peter and his small block of ice, gasping desperately when they broke the surface again. The Beavers found them quickly, swimming them to the shore as easily as if they were a log for their dam.
Well, Peter thought fuzzily, that worked.
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
A little over half a day into their race for Aslan, Edmund gave a sharp cry, clutching his chest and nearly toppling from Philip's back.
"What's wrong?" Horse and Wolf demanded in tandem, skidding to a halt.
"It's nothing," Edmund gasped, rubbing the loose clothing above his heart as he fought to sit up in his saddle. The Animals traveling with him doubled back in concern, looking up at him anxiously. He gave them a firm smile. "It's nothing," he repeated. He flexed the fist that covered his heart, shaking it out. "Just a cramp. I'm fine."
"Edmund," Philip protested, knowing his rider better than that.
Edmund pressed his knees into the Horse in silent warning. "It's nothing that won't keep, Philip. The longer we wait here, the better her chances of catching us. Hurry," he called to his company, "to our army! To Aslan!"
Once they were thundering along again, Tumnus leaned forward enough so he could whisper in Edmund's ear. "What happened?" he asked.
But Edmund ignored him, eyes focused with single intent on the west.
By late afternoon, though, he could no longer fool his companions. His breath came in a pained cadence and sweat beaded on his forehead despite the chill. Though his expression was clear of any tells, his limbs shook with the effort of containing whatever agony gripped him.
The second time he nearly slipped from Philip's back, the Horse laid down and refused to stand again.
"May we break for the night, my lord?" one of his Hyenas asked. "Faun Tumnus could surely use the rest in preparation for the hard ride tomorrow."
Tumnus' first reaction was indignation. Then he got a good look at Edmund's face, at the stubborn tilt of his chin, the pained whiteness of his lips, and decided that his pride was the least of what they stood to lose on this march. "Yes," he agreed, trying to sound worn and pitiful. "Even one good night would be a wonder for my aches."
Edmund all but wilted, nodding his agreement. Bellus took command, ordering a perimeter and wood for a small campfire to boil snow for the teas left by the doctor.
When all the soldiers were occupied, Philip tugged Edmund to his side, urging him to curl against him for warmth and comfort. "What happened?" the Horse asked softly, nuzzling Edmund's shoulder when he was settled.
For a long moment, Edmund was silent, limp against Philip while a drop of sweat rolled down the side of his face. Bellus joined them before he finally made himself speak. "I felt as though something pierced my heart," he admitted, struggling against breathlessness. He tried to shift into a more comfortable position and failed. "My chest burns and aches."
Bellus whined softly, ears flat against his skull as he nosed the pale line of Edmund's jaw. "You aren't bleeding. What did she do?"
"It's dangerous to go against a Queen who has named you her Prince," he murmured. "Even more so against a Witch."
"You never should have agreed to that," Philip said fiercely. "You should have run once you were healed."
"Where would I have gone?" Edmund asked wearily. "To Aslan, who wasn't here a year ago? Back to my world, where I could have been nasty and useless?"
"To someplace safe!"
"There is no such place," the Son of Adam hissed, eyes shut against a flare of fresh pain, "and there won't be until she's defeated."
"What can we do?" Bellus asked, interrupting the old argument. "Did the doctor leave anything that can help?"
Edmund shook his head in defeat.
"Aslan could help," Tumnus said in a rush, unable to help himself.
Philip and Bellus looked at him as though they had forgotten he was even there before trading an unhappy frown.
"We don't know where Aslan is," Bellus snarled, frightened for Edmund.
"My lord!" one of their Ferret sentries cried, rushing back into camp. "My lord, it's Fox Alastar! He marches at the head of your army to deliver them to Aslan Himself! They aren't an hour from our location!"
Philip sighed deeply, nibbling Edmund's hair in sheer relief. "Hope," he murmured into the dark tangles.
"Or something like it," Bellus muttered, and trotted off to take the Ferret's report.
