Disclaimer: I do not own Chronicles of Narnia. Deal with it.
Summary: See previous chapters.
Chapter Seven
Time passes differently in different worlds.
In Narnia, it has been close to a month since I last saw that annoying child, Edmund, and I fear that I must put up with him for a while longer.
At the moment, I am in my study, dealing with the paperwork that is the bane of any person in a position of authority.
I have dealt with that traitorous faun, Tummnus. He is now a work of art decorating my halls. If I ever decide to release those that I have statue-ized, I shall be sure to impress upon them the knowledge that regicide is hazardous to One's continued good health.
Especially if the ruler in question is me.
Besides, wielding the magic necessary to turn people to stone can be tiring, even if I am powerful enough. If only I had the power to make this paperwork take care of itself! Unfortunately, I do not think there is such a power in all the worlds that have ever been.
It is a welcome break when my chief of police, Maugrim, enters to tell me that the boy, Edmund, has finally come to see me.
I wait in my throne room, wearing my usual white-and-silver, along with my crown and my most majestically intimidating expression.
The boy enters the room, looking out of place amongst the elegant architecture.
Oh, for the love of Heaven! Honestly, can males be trusted to do nothing right? Edmund has come alone, even after I had repeatedly stressed that he was to have his brother and sisters with him. I am Not Happy and do not hesitate to express my displeasure.
The boy splutters an excuse, claiming that he had done the best he could, bringing them as close as the beaver's house on top of the dam.
I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes and snarl. Did I mention that I hate people making excuses? Unless it is a valid and very good reason, for example: "I was knocked over by a train and broke both legs so I cannot now compete in the foot race". Otherwise, it is simply a coward's way to attempt to evade taking responsibility. My bad mood is consolidated when the brat tells me that Aslan has also come to Narnia.
My reaction may have been slightly extreme, and certainly not in keeping with the image of a 'Motherly and caring, yet powerful Queen' that I had been trying to project.
Motherly and Caring. Those two words have not been used in conjunction with me for aeons. It is certainly not the aura I give off now, as the boy seems terrified, stammering that he was only repeating what he had heard.
I reassert control over myself with a great deal of effort, calling for Maugrim and ordering my dwarf to prepare the sleigh, using the harness without bells. I do not wish to inform all of Narnia that I am coming up behind them.
What takes my chief of police so long? I tell Maugrim to take the swiftest of his wolves and go at once to the house of the beavers and to kill everyone he finds there. There is a chance that the Beavers will have noticed the boy's absence and fled. If this is so, Maugrim and his second must go to the Stone Table and wait for me there. I will have to travel many miles to the west before I can safely cross the river.
I am glad to have Maugrim; he always obeys without question. It seems an age before the sled is ready, an age in which I am forced to endure the presence of a boy who seems convinced that he is the centre of the Universe.
At least he is quiet as we ride, probably because he sleeps through the night, regardless of the movements of the sleigh.
With nothing to occupy my mind, my thoughts inevitably turn to happier times, and the ones who made them so.
My Sorcha had always loved sleigh rides, whether over snow or sand or through evergreen forests. She would sing as we rode. Often she was deliberately loud and very out of tune, but the lyrics were always amusing. Her favourite was at the Summer Solstice, dancing at the beach. I remember it clearly; people laughing at the antics of Sorcha and her friends, and the answering grin as my daughter sang.
Flashback
Calanthe lunged toward Sorcha, trying to shut her up before she began singing again. My daughter danced out of reach, laughing as she sang painfully off-key.
"Dashing through the sand,
In out Cozzies and our thongs,
Over sand hills we go,
Laughing all the way!
Bells on surfboards ring,
Making spirits gay!
What fun it is to laugh and sing,
On a sunny solstice day! Mrmph! Gerrof!"
Brand had tackled her, knocking her to the sand and into a very compromising position. Sorcha twists free and runs off, laughing.
End flashback
A different world, a different life, both long past. I am called out of my thoughts by the sound of a Christmas party.
Hmm. The boy was right, as was whoever told him. As much as I hate to admit it, Aslan is the only one with enough power to counter my spells to this extent.
I stop the sleigh and demand to know what is going on. I know exactly what is happening, I am not that stupid, but I would still like confirmation that it truly is Aslan, not a few drunken idiots getting together and deciding to pretend that they saw him.
The fox's obvious fear and grovelling almost make me relent. Almost. I had planned to be merciful and leave them alive after confirming Aslan's presence. Then that wretched baby squirrel starts banging its spoon on the table and squeaking, "He has, he has, he has!"
I had planned to be lenient. Oh, well. I ignore Edmund's plea to spare them and turn the table, along with its settings and occupants, to stone. We ride on.
Oh joy.
Now the sled has bogged down.
Fine, I will admit it. My dwarf is right; this is no ordinary thaw, this is Spring.
My dwarf may be correct in this matter, but if he continues to state the obvious, I shall do something that will be both drastic and permanent. I am perfectly well aware that my Winter is being destroyed and yes, I realize that it is that blasted lion's doing.
This is putting me in a bad mood, and I inform him that the first person to mention that name again, will be instantly killed. I still need them both, so it is unlikely that I will carry through with my threat, but they do not know that, and my tone of voice should convince them.
We cannot continue in the sleigh, so I order my dwarf to cut the harness from the horses, they can find their own way home. We begin walking.
An hour or so later, Maugrim's second in command arrives to report that my Chief of Police has been killed by Edmund's older brother, who Aslan has decided will be High King when I am gone.
I wonder if the Son of Adam knows what he will have to do to get said title. Besides, from what my spies tell me, the girl, Lucy, would make a far better choice. She is an innocent, but she is strong and stands for what she believes in. Lucy came to Narnia first and appears to be good at winning people over to her side. She reminds me of another young woman, far away and long ago. Were circumstances different, this Lucy would make a fine queen.
Aslan is getting ahead of himself. He needs me gone first, and I will not go down without putting up a very good fight.
The prophecy requires that two Sons of Adam and two Daughter of Eve fill the four thrones.
How if only three were filled? Then the prophecy could not come to pass. I can kill the fourth Son of Adam, and thus leave the fourth throne empty.
My dwarf councils against it, saying that we might keep him for bargaining with. I roll my eyes mentally. Why am I always surrounded by incompetent idiots? My voice is sarcastic as I reply. "Yes. And have him rescued!"
I would rather this be done at the Stone Table, where such things have always been done. But it may be long before that sacred place is again put to its proper use. I have my dwarf tie Edmund to a tree and begin to sharpen a knife, ignoring the feel that something is about to happen.
It does. Even as I raise the knife, several flying beasts, no doubt sent by Aslan, swoop down to rescue the Son of Adam.
This battle is one that I cannot win, so I believe a swift retreat is in order. I quickly cast a spell, giving the impression that my dwarf and I are instead a boulder and a tree stump.
When they have gone, I change us back into our true forms. By Deep Magic, all traitors belong to me. I begin to laugh, the sound echoing into the night.
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A/N: So, we have another chapter up. Constructive critisism is welcomed, and I'm thinking of doing a spin-off sequal, set during Prince Caspian. What do people think?
Thanks,
Nat
