WARNING: Don't forget—these next few chapters (at least) are going to be one messy, emotional, angst-filled roller coaster so you may want to have a few tissues at hand.
Disclaimer: I own nothing in this marvelous universe; it all belongs to C.S. Lewis and Walden Media.
Reviewers: Thank you for your wonderful reviews—I'm glad everyone likes this story so much!
Author's Note: All right, so I plan on getting out at least one more chapter next week of this story, but after that, I'm going on a two-week vacation (and possibly a little bit more) and will not have Internet access during that time. That's not to say, however, I'll stop writing this story. :grins: I don't think I could stop now, even if I wanted to. It was just begging to be written! Anyway, just a heads up and I'll remind you next post, too! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this one!
Rating: T/M (for intense moments and blood)
Summary:What if Lucy had decided to go across the gorge when she saw Aslan, regardless of whether her siblings came with her? At least she won't be alone…and it is not just Aslan who joins her…(AU, Book and Moviebased)
"Speech"
/Personal Thoughts/
Memories/Excerpts/Quotes (Italics)
(6) Prince Caspian pg. 268 in The Complete Chronicles of Narnia (Hardcover; Illustrated)
Keeping the Faith
By Sentimental Star
Chapter Six: The Healing of Hurts
"Stop, stop, stop," said Doctor Cornelius. "You go on too fast. The Witch is dead. All the stories agree on that. What does Nikabrik mean by calling on the Witch?"
The gray and terrible voice which had spoken only once before said, "Oh, is she?"
And then that shrill, whining voice began, "Oh, bless his heart, his dear little Majesty needn't mind about the White Lady—that's what we call her—being dead. The Worshipful Master Doctor is only making game of a poor old woman like me when he says that. Sweet Master Doctor, learned Master Doctor, who ever heard of a witch that really died? You can always get them back." (6)
It was not a pleasant waking for Lucy. Her shoulders ached, her wrists felt rubbed raw, and the first sight that met her eyes was of Edmund bound to a stone column on his knees, slumped forward unconscious over the ropes, and bleeding from a gash just above his left temple.
She hastily smothered a cry, not wanting their captors (whoever they were) to know she was awake.
Sitting up with great caution and no small amount of difficulty from where she had been laying on the stone floor, she squirmed closer to him as best she could (realizing only now why her wrists were so raw) and fumbled with her bound hands to locate her brother's pulse. Tears stung her eyes once she did; although slightly sluggish, it still beat strongly against her fingers.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she winged a silent prayer of thanks to Aslan. No matter what anyone might say, Edmund was a survivor and Lucy had never been more grateful for that knowledge than she was now.
Reassured her brother would live (and that was often a blessing in and of itself), she opened her eyes and took quick stock of their situation: they were in the Table Chamber—she had guessed as much, though she had no idea how either of them had gotten there (her brother's head injury shed some light on the matter, however). As the chamber deepest (and least frequented) in the bowels of Aslan's How, she knew it was a perfect hideaway for fugitives and prisoners—ironically appropriate given what had passed here years upon years ago.
Her cordial and dagger, thankfully still on her belt, were displayed prominently (and she had no doubt, tauntingly) on the Stone Table, alongside Edmund's own sword belt (a sword, she surmised bitterly, that he hadn't even had the chance to use).
Her own hands were tied rather tightly behind her back, but she was anguished to note that apparently knocking her brother unconscious hadn't been enough for the beasts. Ropes held up his limp body against the stone column and tied his hands behind his back, the knots that held them nastier and crueler than hers, as the slow trickle of blood flowing down the side of his bound wrists attested to.
He was in sorry shape, and Lucy bit her bottom lip viciously as she scooted closer to him. Ducking underneath her brother, grateful that she had at least this amount of freedom to move, the younger queen gently pushed him upright with her shoulder, using her own body as Edmund's support.
Pressing her forehead against his cheek, she turned towards his ear and whispered, "Edmund."
He stirred against her with a faint moan.
She repeated, a bit firmer, "Edmund."
A small groan. "Lu?" slurred, as he blinked his eyes open and took in the blurry outline of his little sister pressed against him.
Lucy nearly started crying when he turned to her. "Oh, Ed!"
"Where…where…?" before he could even begin to form a coherent question, the echoes of voices reached them from the corridor that opened onto the dais above them.
"Shh!" Lucy hissed to Edmund. "Shut your eyes."
Given that he was only semi-conscious, Edmund needed little incentive to comply.
Carefully, keeping her forehead pressed against her brother's cheek, she watched the hallway's exit out of the corner of one eye.
"They're getting closer," she began narrating softly for the older boy, "three, maybe four sets of footsteps. One sounds like they keep stumbling every few feet--"
She broke off with a sudden gasp. Edmund's eyes flew open (even as he winced), and he tried to look around her, but Lucy wouldn't let him. "What? What's wrong?" he breathed urgently, for she had stiffened against him.
"Oh, Edmund!" she cried softly. "It's Caspian! They've got Caspian!" Righteous anger wove itself into her voice. "The brutes! They've tied him up even more tightly than you!"
There was a scuffle and then a cry, distinctly that of the prince.
"Lucy, we've got to get him out of here!" Edmund hissed back frantically, now fully aware (or as aware as one can be with a concussion). "Who's with him? What's going on now?"
"Nikabrik's just tied him to the Stone Table," she replied, voice trembling just the slightest bit as she watched the rough way the Dwarf handled their friend, shoving him back harshly against its broken edge before looping the ropes around the Table's supports and pulling them taut. An involuntary cry worked its way out of Caspian's throat, causing both Golden Monarchs to flinch. "There's a Hag and a Wer-Wulf, too. Fell Creatures, Ed! I thought they'd be extinct!"
Edmund blew out his breath heavily, shutting his eyes. /Of course. Of all the Creatures it could be…/ He opened his eyes. "What are they doing now?" he murmured, forcing himself to ignore the spinning of his head.
"The Wer-Wulf looks like he's drawing some sort of circle around Caspian…oh, Ed, he's menacing him, too! Snapping at his feet! Nikabrik's got a knife at Caspian's throat and the Hag--"
That's when the two heard a strangled cry from Caspian. "Stop! Nikabrik, you don't--"
"Quiet, boy!" Nikabrik's voice snarled, and Lucy saw him press the dagger he held a little harder against Caspian's neck. There was a nasty grin on his lips. "You're going to help whether you like it or not."
"'Help?'" Edmund hissed anxiously to Lucy. "Help with what?"
The younger girl stifled a cry of her own as the Hag's voice suddenly rose in a terrifying chant. "Edmund, the Hag has the White Witch's wand!"
IOIOIOIOIOI
He could have panicked. Sat there and panicked and refused to move: his head was spinning, he had a nauseating headache, any small movement and his stomach threatened to end up on the floor…
But he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not with so much at stake, not with so much riding on this moment. He'd never been one to lose his head, and he refused to start now—no matter who was on the verge of being reborn.
"Lu, how badly injured are you?" he demanded softly.
She could have taken that the wrong way entirely, could have thought that he believed her wounded, or injured, or touched in the head. But she didn't. "Not even," she whispered back. "Why?"
He'd never been gladder in his life for his little sister's level head. "Where are our weapons?"
"On the Stone Table."
"If you were freed, could you get to them in time? Without being noticed?"
"Not without being noticed, but yes, I could get to them." She frowned at him. "Ed, I know where you're going with this, but what about you? The first thing they'll do is threaten me with you—especially when you're helpless!"
In spite of everything, in spite of the rocketing pain in his skull and the aching of his body, Edmund scowled at her, and it was so unexpected and so welcome that Lucy had to bite back a laugh. "I am not helpless!" he hissed.
Struggling to keep her face straight and in some part of her mind utterly scandalized that they were able to tease at a time like this, Lucy returned lightly, "Fine. Temporarily out of commission, then."
Her brother's scowl turned even fiercer. "Now is not the time, Lu! Don't worry about me—I'll…I'll think of something."
"You'll not think of something, because I already know what to do," she retorted quietly, starting to shimmy around underneath him, her hands tugging clumsily at his boot.
Edmund frowned at her and demanded softly, "Lucy, what are you doing?"
"Shut up a minute, Ed!" she hissed. "You still carry a dagger everywhere with you in your boot, right?"
Annoyance and worry gave way to outright astonishment on her brother's face. Lucy would have laughed if the situation hadn't been so urgent. "Well?" she demanded in a hushed whisper.
Instead of answering, Edmund shifted behind her, struggling to free up his left leg to give her better access. "Can you get it?" he hissed a moment later when it was laying awkwardly to his side.
With some careful maneuvering, she managed to grasp the hilt that poked the slightest bit over the rim of Edmund's boots with both hands and drew it out of its sewn-in leather sheath.
"Got it," she whispered back. "Now what?"
"The ropes tying me to the column, can you reach to cut them?"
Her answer was quick downwards slash. Edmund felt the ropes give way and drop to the floor. He would have toppled forwards, too, had Lucy not been right there in front of him.
As his head spun and his stomach lurched, he took several quick, gasping swallows to keep the nausea at bay.
"Are you all right?" Lucy hissed, pressing back against him and keeping the dagger well clear of his body.
"Not really, no," he gulped, gratefully allowing her to support him for the moment. "But never mind that. I'm going to turn now, Lu. As soon as I brush your hands, hand me the knife and we'll get you free."
It took some painstaking maneuvering, but they managed it. The instant she was released, Lucy turned to face him, grabbing the dagger from his hands and gently bracing her own just above his wrist.
"This is going to hurt, Ed," she whispered, placing the edge of the blade against the underside of the ropes as she met his dark eyes…and barely gave him time to register that before she cut cleanly through his binds with a quick, upwards swipe.
Biting back a cry as his hands came free, Edmund slumped heavily back against his sister, breathing through the pain as she gingerly rubbed the circulation back into his veins.
"Th-thanks, Lu," he panted weakly when she had finished.
At that moment, a blast of frigid air swept through the room. Followed almost immediately by a blinding, brilliant blue light flashing in the background.
Caspian cried out. "No! This isn't what I want!"
Whirling to face the direction it had come from, desperate to see the state their friend was in, Edmund and Lucy were horrified to discover that Caspian, at some point, had been cut loose and hauled to his feet, one hand pinned behind his back by the Wer-Wulf (a Creature they both knew to be obscenely strong) and the other held out and slashed with a wicked looking dagger by the Hag.
In front of Caspian, a solid wall of ice blocked the arched doorway that had framed Aslan's relief. Neither needed to look any closer to know who was contained within it.
Surging to his feet (and nearly stumbling), Edmund whipped around to face Lucy as she scrambled to her own, gasping out, "Lu, can you make it?"
She frowned, noting that his eyes were not entirely focused. "Can you?"
He didn't answer. "Can you take them?"
"With Aslan's help," she returned. "Now go!"
IOIOIOIOIOI
Her brother placed a clumsy, off-center kiss on her forehead before splitting away. Lucy herself did not turn to watch. As Edmund, dagger in hand, ran haphazardly towards Caspian, the ice, and the Witch, the younger girl whispered a fervent prayer ("Aslan keep him safe.") and ran at the Stone Table and her belt.
Luck was not with either of them.
Edmund, clearly the more unsteady of the two, careened straight into another stone pillar as he stumbled over one of his forgotten ropes, smashing his shoulder into the iron torch sconce bolted to the rock. Unable to stifle a cry of pain, he reeled sideways but kept running, intent on finishing this before any more damage could be done.
But his cry had caught the attention of the Fell Creatures and Nikabrik, who finally realized that neither of their prisoners were being very good captives.
And in that moment, everything erupted.
Almost to the Stone Table, Lucy screamed as the Hag and Nikabrik dove at her. Edmund, already halfway across the floor, heard her scream and wheeled, but was a little more preoccupied with the Wer-Wulf that suddenly lunged at his throat.
An arrow, distinctive in its red fletching, found its mark just as the Hag raised her dagger to strike Lucy, and Susan suddenly came flying out of a nearby doorway, rushing at full speed towards her little sister.
As the Hag flew into a far stone column, very clearly dead, Trumpkin, who had been following on the older queen's heels, collided with Nikabrik in a clash of armor and steel.
Grabbing Lucy, Susan shoved the younger girl behind her, backing them up until they were pressed against the Stone Table, another arrow already in the string and aimed at Nikabrik.
Aware, somewhere, that she was crying quite forcefully, Lucy grabbed her belt and clutched it to her chest…just as Peter sped past them all.
With an anguished cry as the Wer-Wulf lunged at his younger brother, Peter ducked under the Creature and rammed his shoulder into Edmund, sending the younger boy sprawling backwards on the hard stone floor. Twisting to thrust his sword at the Wer-Wulf's belly, the older king dodged the snapping jaws and rolled to come up directly between the beast and his fallen brother.
With an unearthly howl as it lost its intended prey, the Wer-Wulf twisted away and landed on all fours, snapping at Peter's sword. "Ed, go!" Peter's voice was rough and ragged as he cried that, and never once did he look away from the Wer-Wulf's eyes (or its jaws).
Barely having time to register his older brother's presence, let alone object to the command, Edmund struggled to his feet, ignoring the nauseating spin of his head, and scrambled up onto the dais, still somehow managing to keep his dagger. Mere seconds later, he was behind the wall of ice. Able only to raise the dagger and pray to Aslan for strength, Edmund slammed the dagger into the ice and the White Witch's back with a half-choked yell.
IOIOIOIOIOI
"Peter—Caspian!" Lucy's cry reverberated around the Table Chamber as their older brother scrambled to his feet, gasping, after having been knocked over by the Wer-Wulf as he shoved his sword into the beast's breast.
Barely pausing for breath, the older boy yanked his sword out of the Fell Creature and tackled the prince, sending him careening to the floor.
He had not, however, taken into account what would happen once he himself was within the confines of the circle.
Horror-struck, Lucy could only watch from the circumference of Susan's arms as Peter himself became ensnared in the White Witch's net of seduction.
"Peter, dear…I've missed you."
/No!/ Lucy thought, struggling frantically against Susan's suddenly vise-like hold as Peter went still, seemingly enraptured by the Witch's snow-white figure. "Peter!" she cried.
Peter appeared not to hear her.
"Come, just one drop…" the Witch beckoned to Peter with her hand.
Peter hesitated.
"You know you can't do this on your own…" prodded, with all the power of her chill, feminine wile.
Peter lowered his sword.
And at that moment, the ice wall cracked. As it tumbled down with a roaring crash, Lucy looked up to see Edmund standing in front of Aslan's relief, dagger still drawn.
Her younger brother had not been aware of their older brother's plight—that much was clear. When the ice shattered and came cascading down around him, he looked just as stunned to see Peter standing within the circle at the foot of the dais as Peter was stunned to see him standing at the top of it.
And when Peter's presence registered—really registered—his dark brown eyes went wide as the dagger clattered on the stone steps. Staring at their brother in dumb shock, face paling, Edmund opened his mouth to say something…and crumpled to the floor.
Lucy shrieked. Susan screamed. Caspian lurched to his feet. And Peter lunged up the dais.
In a matter of seconds, all four children had reached Edmund.
Lucy yanked out her cordial as the others fell to their knees around her, Caspian gently urging Edmund to uncurl.
With a pained gasp, Edmund did so, more or less falling backwards against Peter who carefully slid in behind him, long legs stretched to either side of the younger boy's body and arms wrapped around his brother's chest. Tilting his head back into Peter's shoulder, Edmund cracked open pain-glazed eyes to peer up hazily at him. "I know," he finally gasped, shuddering in the older boy's hold. "You had it sorted."
Peter shook his head desperately, very clearly telling Edmund he did not have it sorted, shoulders jerking with several stifled sobs as tears ran freely down his cheeks.
"Edmund," Lucy's trembling voice drew her younger brother's attention back to her. "Edmund, what hurts?"
The older boy managed a wry smile for her sake. "Everything," he croaked. He took in a deep, shaky breath, "But…" As he trailed off, he slowly pulled his hands away from where they had been clutching his abdomen.
They were covered in blood.
"The wound..." he gulped as a general outcry rose around him. "It's been reopened."
It was exactly where the White Witch had stabbed him with her wand at Beruna.
IOIOIOIOIOI
A shaky Edmund was helped to his feet by Caspian and Susan five minutes later, freshly-healed from Lucy's cordial. A few quiet words from Peter, a kiss on her forehead from Edmund, and the younger girl watched as her brother was guided out of the room by the two older monarchs.
When Lucy was finally left alone with Peter she expected to be angry—hurt because he hadn't believed her, furious because of what he had done to Edmund. But she knew her oldest brother well—nearly as well as Edmund did—and she knew far more than anything she might say, Peter's own conscience would smite him.
And more than any anger or hurt, she had missed him. Missed the brother he had been and the king she had followed; the brother and the king he all too clearly was now.
So when he turned away from the door after he had sent Edmund off with Susan and Caspian, and looked up at her from where he once again stood at the foot of the dais, blue eyes brimming with tears, it was perfectly understandable why she threw those suddenly inconsequential hurts to the wind and rushed down the steps to embrace him.
Just as she barreled into him, Peter's legs gave out, sending him crashing to the roughhewn stone floor of the Table Chamber on his knees. She felt his arms tremble as they caught her against his chest, holding her as close and as tight as he possibly could.
She gave a gasping laugh, and buried her head in his shoulder. "Peter! Oh, Peter! You came! You finally came!"
"Of course, Lu," he slurred thickly. "Did you think I wouldn't?"
"We thought…we hoped you might, but…but…"
She felt him release a shuddering breath into her hair. When he spoke again, his voice wobbled dangerously, "Lu?" She looked up at him, blinking back tears. "Will you forgive me?"
Her breath caught in her throat. Drawing herself up, she lightly pushed out of his arms. "It is not my forgiveness you need ask," she advised him softly.
She saw him turn…and glance at the relief of Aslan on the wall directly behind them, face paling slightly and jaw locking. Acceptance, even after all that had happened—especially because of all that had happened—was a hard thing for him to give. But she saw it there, in his eyes, and in the straightening of his bowed back.
Lucy simply shook her head. Proud as she was at seeing that, glad as she was to have their High King back, that was not what she had meant. Gently placing her hand on his cheek and redirecting his gaze back to her, she shook her head again and gave a sad smile, "Not just His," she murmured.
Peter promptly went red with overwhelming emotion, and she knew he understood. The one person he had hurt, more than anyone, was the brother who would never see the need for an apology in the first place.
"But just so you know, Peter," she whispered, leaning forward to tenderly kiss his forehead. "I forgive you."
And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a three-fold cord is not easily broken.—Ecclesiastes 4:12
Tbc.
Footnote: Well! That was a chapter and a half. But I hoped you liked it—it's the chapter that got me writing this story in first place, after all :grins:! Things still aren't completely okay between our favorite characters, so there's guaranteed to be at least several more chapters that follow this one—I hope you stay tuned!
Best Regards,
Sentimental Star