Goodness! So this is an ACTUAL update. Wowwww. I know it's short. It's kind of like that one chapter to get me going again...trust me, there is plenty of action coming up! And I promise, promise faster updates. This time has just been terrible for me...but I realized writing is one of the few things that makes me feel so much better so I really need to continue it.
Enjoy. I apologize if it is not up to standards but writing this is helping my inspiration flow back. Thank you everyone for your most kind reviews and for still believing in this story! I hope you enjoy.
Also, I double apologize for grammatical errors. Haven't looked over this...too exhausted. I think I need a Beta reader. Anyone know how to go about getting one? Hmmm.
Anyways, Love & Strawberries. Enjoy.
In all her eighteen years of existence Nell had never known what is was to miss another human being before. Ever. As she sat in the courtyard of Narnia, the creeping autumn breeze dancing with her dark curls, she felt a hollowness curl around her middle and realized for the first time in her life what it was to truly miss someone.
It was not very pleasant.
It had been exactly one week since Peter and Edmund and the troops of Narnia had departed. A mere week; seven days, one hundred and sixty eight minutes. Seven times Nell had seen the sunset and the sunrise and seven painfully long, lonely, consistently anguished days had passed. Each day Nell awoke with the hope of a promise; the hope of some kind of word that would come from either brother. She asked Susan and Lucy every day but nothing. Not even a whisper from a bird, there was absolutely not a clue as to where they were or what the status was. Though both queens assured her they would inform her in the very first second they received word from their brothers, Nell was not easily appeased.
The past week had been sheer torture. Nell found her appetite to be something of little consequence; the magic of Narnia seemed to have been tainted with a sense of foreboding that she could not shake off. Nell knew she was not alone. Whenever she would spend a meal with the queens, or enjoying the very last bit of sunshine with Lucy by the stream, she would catch a glimpse of the anxiety and heartache that plagued the sisters. Nell had only known Peter and Edmund for a few weeks—she could simply not imagine the pain Lucy and Susan, bound to their brothers by more than just blood—were feeling. It must be breaking them a part.
And yet she knew the girls were somewhat used to this. And there was another element in the equation—Susan's fury. While she had been well-mannered at the send off and council meetings, the gentle queen had shown Nell a side of herself she was not aware existed. Susan was positively fuming at the fact that she was not at battle with her brothers. When this conversation would come alive, Nell really could offer nothing more than a mere nod. She had no idea what to say on occasions such as these.
"I just do not understand my brothers sometimes," Susan said tightly as she aimed her bow and arrow at its target, releasing her grip and hitting it spot on. Nell's eyes widened as she watched the queen, holding her own bow and arrow a bit unsurely. Ever since Susan had offered to teach her to use the weapon she'd been rather excited but had quickly learned she was positively miserable at it.
Nell had merely mumbled something about boys that was quite incoherent, hoping to change the subject.
But that had been days ago, and now as Nell sat alone in the empty courtyard she curled her knees up against her. It was a lonely and gray afternoon; Nell hadn't seen Lucy or Susan yet today and she desperately wished for their company. She was soon realizing the more and more time she spent alone, the more and more her mind went positively reeling. And it all had to do with one word:
Peter.
Ever since their goodbye and that one blissful moment by the tree that was now permanently branded into her mind Nell could not stop thinking about the High King. She felt incredibly foolish and yet something pulled distinctly hard on her heart every time she passed the door to his bed chamber, or his name left the lips of his sisters, or his gentle grin passed through her mind. Now that he was no longer in her presence at the current moment, it was as if every single conversation they'd ever had kept replaying in her mind.
One in particular stood out to her and was one that she couldn't seem to grasp. The conversation that took place the night before Peter left for battle, the one revolving around this Aslan figure.
Ever since Peter had described to her the wonderment of such a being Nell's mind had been reeling. Everywhere she went she searched for a sign of Aslan (of course she had no idea what she was looking for so all in all it was a futile effort). Her ears pricked every time a gush of wind whispered in her ear or a creak roused her from her slumber late into the night. Ultimately she felt quite foolish searching for someone who she was almost positive had no idea she even existed let alone would actually want to know her.
And yet her heart ached in a way she had never felt before every time she thought of this Aslan, wherever he was in the world.
"That somber look has grown familiar on your face and I have to say it does not suit you."
Nell looked up quickly from where she was perched in the courtyard and saw Lucy coming toward her, a gentle smile on her face. Immediately Nell felt herself calm down, as if every nerve in her body dissipated into the atmosphere, forever gone away.
"Is it that obvious?" Nell asked, watching as Lucy sat beside her on the cold stone bench, the quickly approaching autumn wind dancing with the young queen's brown hair.
"That you are absolutely miserable without Peter here and can't stop thinking about him?" Lucy asked. Her straightforward tone caused Nell to immediately blush.
Coughing, Nell tried in vain to cover up her embarrassment. "I have no idea what you are talking about," she said, diverting her gaze from the far too observant queen. For a girl so young Queen Lucy was beyond intimidating.
But her boisterous laugh only caused Nell to sigh, a small smirk playing at her lips. Lucy put a gentle hand on top of Nell's, once more causing her to completely calm down.
"You can't honestly tell me it is Edmund that has got you so sad this past week," Lucy said cryptically.
Nell sighed, her stomach churning in a way that she was simply not used to.
"Of course I am frightened for the entirety of the army," she told Lucy. She paused, feeling the warmth of Lucy's small hand on her own and looked down. She realized their hands were practically the same size and with a pang in her gut Nell remembered how she was still nothing but a small servant girl that had no business being in this unbelievable kingdom.
She had no business caring for the High King of Narnia.
She felt Lucy shift and looked up. It was hard to read the expression on Lucy's face—a mixture of love, curiosity and sympathy. Three things Nell was not very familiar with in the face of someone looking at her.
"Nell? Would you mind very much if I spoke rather boldly right now?" Lucy's question hung in the air as Nell looked into her eyes.
Laughing a little, Nell shook her head. "Any bolder than you've already spoken? No, I wouldn't mind at all." The fact that a queen was asking Nell's permission to speak a certain way did not go unnoticed by Nell. Even though she'd been living in Narnia for almost a month it was still a foreign place to her. And although she'd take this magnificent world over Bailetha any day, she still did not feel like she belonged. In fact, she was pretty sure she didn't belong anywhere at all. How lonely her heart was at this very moment, even as she sat hand in hand with Lucy.
"You need to stop feeling so worthless and undeserving all of the time," Lucy told Nell conversationally, as if she was commenting on the weather. "It's a sad enough time as it is with the war, you don't need to go making yourself even more upset."
Nell frowned as she felt her throat burn and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She wanted to hide away—who knew Nell would ever be intimidated by a girl years younger than her.
"Lucy," Nell began desperately trying to choose her words wisely. "I mean no offense—at all—but I feel that it is quite easy for you to say those things seeing as it is you are a queen. And not just a queen but a queen of this amazing land with an equally amazing family."
Lucy looked at Nell, listening deeply to her and Nell never for one moment felt as if she was being looked down upon at all. She could tell Lucy was weighing her words and Nell silently hoped that she hadn't overstepped a boundary of any kind with her words though she was glad she had spoke them. It was true—it must have been loads easier for Lucy to remain optimistic and happy with herself. Just look at her situation!
"Do I detect a bit of self pity?" Lucy questioned, and there was teasing in her eyes as her tone was not at all harsh. Nell was about to defend herself when Lucy continued to speak. "Nell, I know we have only known each other for a few short weeks, but you musn't feel as if you are not loved."
Nell's eyebrows rose in confusion. "What--?"
Lucy stood then, the wind making her gown billow around her and Nell thought she looked like a painting.
"I know I doubted my brother earlier about his choice to not ally with King Larce and Queen Nibora," Lucy began and Nell had no idea where she was going with this but she refused to voice such an opinion. "But I know now that what he is doing is the right choice. He is trusting in Aslan, and that is always the right choice."
Nell looked up at Lucy, watching as the sky behind the young queen continued to swirl in shades of ominous gray. Nell suddenly wished she was wearing something a bit warmer.
"You know of Aslan too?" Nell questioned, though really she supposed she shouldn't be too surprised. If Peter loved Aslan so much, then why wouldn't his brother and sisters know of such a creature as well? It only seemed to make sense of course.
Lucy smiled and it lit up her entire face. "Oh yes. I have known Aslan for many years and I know that he can never lead us into the wrong. Though my brothers have not always believed that."
"What do you mean?" Nell's curiosity was most definitely flaring. "Peter told me about Aslan and his unfailing justice and love. It didn't seem as if Peter would ever think against Aslan."
Lucy sat down, looking deep into Nell's eyes and Nell couldn't help but shudder. She realized as Lucy peered into Nell that the young queen was far wiser and older than her actual years. There was no way a normal thirteen year old could look so deeply into Nell's very soul. It simultaneously disturbed her and left her in awe. What exactly had these queens and kings of Narnia seen and experienced? It was as if they were from another world altogether.
"Peter, Susan, Edmund and myself are not originally from Narnia you know," Lucy said as if answering Nell's hidden question. Nell's mouth fell open.
"What?"
And then Lucy began talking and Nell swore this entire situation was a dream. As Lucy spoke to her tale of the Pevensies falling through a wardrobe from a land by the name of "England" it made Nell's heart race. It was as if an old dream—a memory, long ago, jogged into her mind that Nell could hardly remember. Just as she recalled stories of Narnia from when she was a child, she listened attentively as Lucy told her all about the first battle against the 'White Witch,' of the horrid state Narnia had been in during her rule, of Lucy's own dear friend Mr. Tumnus who was actually due with a visit quite soon. All of this Nell digested in the quickly darkening courtyard.
But Nell also had the sneaking suspicion that Lucy was leaving things out.
"But—you said Edmund didn't always trust Aslan," Nell said, noticing some gaps in Lucy's story.
Lucy nodded, clasping her hands together. "I think that is Edmund's story to tell you. I urge you to ask him about it the minute we are together again." Nell's heart lurched as she remembered the current predicament and the dull throbbing of pain came back.
"But why tell me all this, Lucy?" Nell asked, grateful and yet confused.
Lucy was quiet for a moment and appeared deep in thought. Then her eyes flicked to Nell and she looked more serious than Nell had ever seen her.
"Because I fear you know not the great love Aslan hold for all of us," Lucy said, her voice soft and nurturing to Nell as if a warm blanket had been thrown about her shoulders. "And that includes you, too, Nell. And I believe, I truly believe that Aslan has a plan for you, just as he has a plan for myself and my siblings. I just pray you realize how much you are worth."
Nell couldn't quite form words. She sat there, gaping quite dumbfounded at the youngest Pevensie, before Lucy gently pecked Nell on the cheek and then scurried off, muttering something about a council meeting.
Nell's eyes couldn't help but fill with tears as a lump gradually crept up her threat. What was it about these siblings that caused Nell's heart to completely melt every time she encountered one of them? And why did they make her, for the first time in all her life, actually feel as if she was worth even just something tiny?
As the night curled around the courtyard and the breeze grew bitter still, Nell realized she was no longer cold at all but felt spreading warmth flowing through her veins.
* * *
The farther away they rode from Narnia, the quieter the atmosphere seemed to be. Peter pulled tightly onto his reins, absorbing the area around them. It was the eleventh day of their journey toward Bailetha, and it was as if the land itself smelled the doom that was circling above his army. The skies were swirling and gray, and it was painstakingly evident autumn was nearly moved in. There was a chill in the air, though Peter detected it had less to do with the weather and more to do with what was to shortly come.
"I smell dark magic, sire," Phillip (Edmund's talking steed and a best friend of the younger king) muttered out of the corner of his mouth, quiet enough that only Peter, Edmund and Oreius could hear.
"Well I don't feel too cozy, if that's what you mean," Edmund said in agreement, glancing over to Peter.
"Aye, perhaps it is best to set up camp for the night," the High King proposed. Edmund nodded silently in agreement, and Peter called the troops to a halt in a thunderous voice.
"Lads, this is where we shall set up camp," Peter called, loud enough for the entire army to hear the plan for the evening. There was a soft murmur and scurry while everyone dismounted their horses (in the case of soldiers) and began preparing camp.
Peter turned toward Edmund as he tied his horse's reins around a thick, old tree that looked slightly decrepit.
"We will send our messengers out to search the surrounding land," Peter explained to his brother and Oreius. "We have the best birds for the job. Oreius, alert them and tell them to carry this out immediately—I want an update by morning."
Oreius nodded, hurrying away to send the messengers along. Peter took a moment and looked at his men, his creatures— his army and was simply astounded. These precious lives; how soon were they to ebb away? There was calmness in the air that was hardly palpable, much like the quiet before the storm.
"I still don't understand why Threylin hasn't just declared war on us," came Edmund's voice from where he was unloading his satchel. "We have yet to find word from Threylin himself. We have word that they are preparing an army and are coming toward us…but wouldn't they even propose to us some sort of ultimatum?"
"If Threylin is as evil as he seems to be," Peter muttered, disdain entering his heart for such a man. "Then no. He would attack immediately. We've read our history books, Ed. Threylin's been a dictator for years but we've just been fortunate enough to steer away from him. Looks like times are changing."
Edmund snorted. "Well I'm itching to have a fight," he said roughly. "I want to get this over and done with."
Peter saw the gleam in Edmund's eye, the thirst for a good fight. But it was more than that—because the sooner they fought, the sooner (Aslan willing) they could return home. To Cair Paravel, to their sisters, to their friends, to everything they had grown to love in the years since they'd tumbled out of the wardrobe.
And also, Peter thought (his chest became oddly tight for some reason), the sooner he could return to a certain raven-haired girl he couldn't quite shake out of his mind.
When he really thought about it Peter decided he had no idea how he truly felt about Nell Crewe. For one, he hardly knew her. A few weeks thrown together out of an incredibly tense situation and dire circumstances did not necessarily equate to an ideal time for courting. And yet Peter could not deny that whenever Nell crept into his mind, mostly when he would wander in this thoughts while his troops trudged beside him, there was something warm that infested his brain. It was like a little light went off in his eyes with an arrow that pointed directly to her as if to say, "This is what you've been searching for all along."
War did always make a nice landscape for romance.
Peter's bitter voice ebbed back into his brain as he watched the men, creatures and soldiers around him set up camp. He did not have time to wonder what his status with Nell was. He needed to devote every ounce he had in him, every fiber in his body to his men, to his army, to protecting Narnia.
He thought of Aslan and where the great lion was at this very moment. Was he anywhere near Peter at all? Could he hear Peter's thumping heart with its erratic rhythm, crying out for some sense of security, some sense of knowledge? Peter tightened his jaw, the breeze playing with his hair. He felt Edmund move beside him and caught his brother's eye.
"You alright brother?" Edmund asked, his brown eyes boring deep into Peter's blue eyes.
Peter looked at Edmund feeling grateful for his presence despite all of their differences. Though Peter probably would never say it aloud, he needed Edmund and that was the truth of it. How lonely it would be without the younger man, and even though Peter often felt the two did not see quite eye to eye, their brotherhood was a bond that ran deeper than their blood.
Truly a blessing from Aslan.
Which reminded him…Aslan, where are you? Peter thought softly.
"Pete?"
The question irked him back into reality and Peter almost let out a sigh but caught himself.
"Fine," he said firmly and when he saw the disbelief in Edmund's eyes he easily relented. He looked around, wanting to talk to his brother in private. "Follow me."
Peter led Edmund to his tent which was finished being set up by a few of the soldiers. Peter thanked them for their hasty work and quickly led his brother into the tiny form of privacy.
"What is it Pete?" Edmund asked, looking not nervous but apprehensive, as if he sensed the storm that was brewing around in Peter's mind.
"I'm beginning to worry Ed…it's been some time since Aslan has directly given me an answer and…I don't know," Peter finished lamely, suddenly feeling incredibly vulnerable and regretting the decision to show even his own brother any sense of timidity.
Peter expected Edmund to snort, to say "I told you so," and stalk out of the tent, ready to march all of the troops home. But instead Edmund sat down on the bed that was prepared for the High King and looked at his hands for several long moments.
"Pete, I know I was a right brute to you at the dinner with Larce and Nibora," Edmund began and Peter was surprised to her the raw vulnerability in his voice. "But I'm going to be honest here and say to you that you did the right thing. There is no doubt in my mind that Aslan is looking out for us."
Peter didn't say anything. He was too shocked at the relief that swept over him. Even after all these years of ruling over Narnia, it still surprised Peter how important it was to him what Edmund thought. He didn't think he'd ever really get over it. They were brothers, after all.
Edmund cleared his throat, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Well don't bloody be all silent now, we both know how hard it is for me to apologize."
Peter grinned then, coming over and clapping a hand on his brother's back.
"I'm glad to hear it Ed. I can't help but trust Aslan, even when it feels like I'm in this season of…waiting."
He walked over to the flap of his tent, peering out at the dark swirling sky wishing so desperately that all of this could just be over. He felt Edmund come up beside him.
"Perhaps this season of waiting is where we just need to be," he said slowly. "Sometimes I think it's best if we look to Aslan just one day at a time. Otherwise I'm pretty sure we'd go mad."
Peter looked over to his brother, a teasing glint in his eye. "Since we did you become so bloody wise? Where is my eighteen year old git of a brother?"
Edmund laughed, although it did not quite reach his eyes. "He's still here…though I'm afraid these days it's much harder to think of anything lightly anymore."
Peter couldn't help but agree. He felt it in the air—it crept into his bones.
Battle was around the corner…and all they could do was…wait.
* * *
