There was nothing. Nothing. Not even a hint, a whisper, of a secret hideaway where Susan might be being held by the Telmarines. Running a hand through his hair, frustration beginning to bleed past his iron-fisted control, Edmund scanned the documents piled high on the ancient wooden table. Useless. Every one of them.

The Narnian's had been through when the Just King had asked them for every bit of information they had acquired on the enemy army. Everything from scout's reports, to estimated numbers and intercepted correspondence, had been brought forth from dust-covered shelves and piled into one of the rooms just of the main corridor of the How.

Rubbish.

It was all a load of rubbish and a complete waste of time. An entire pile of nothing.

And it took every scrap of his willpower not to upend the ancient wooden table over, spilling the dozens of pages to the ground.

Edmund exhaled heavily, slumping into one of the many straight-backed chairs and dropped his head to his hands. He hadn't felt this helpless in a long time. Images of the Final Battle echoed in his mind; scarlet blood sticking the tunic to his skin, warming the sliver of space between it and the armor with Peter fighting Jadis mere feet away. And then Emily had been standing over him. Then Lucy and a different sort of warmth had spread through him, one that was filled with sunlight and spring.

A cool draft that drifted its way across the small room was the Pevensie's only warning before a warm hand clapped his shoulder and Caspian's friendly tone filled the air. "The entire How echoes with your thoughts Edmund, turning the men restless." He studied the table, titles of documents catching his attention. "Anything?"

Suspicious Telmarines. The bare ghost of a smile flutters across his lips. Caspian's people did remind him of all the old women selling trinkets to ward off evil back home, with their omens and speculations of fate. "Nothing," The smile slipped off his face as he shoved away a crumbling piece of parchment. "Back to square one."

"We will find her," Caspian pulled out the chair to his left and took a seat." "I give you my word."

"That so?" Edmund studied the prince with amusement. "Why do you want to find her so badly?"

Stilling under the gaze the king leveled him, Emily's brother shifted. "I – She is the Gentle Queen of Old, and your sister. It is my duty- to Narnia to bring her back safe."

"Sure," a smirk dancing across the other's lips. "But I will warn you, that if you break her heart, Susan may be the Gentle Queen, but she is quite capable of killing you with a very large arsenal of weapons."

"And you and Peter-"

"Su would be pissed if we started presiding over her love life. Aslan only knows how many times she's threatened to pitch me off of Cair Paravel's balconies for scaring away suitors." A thick silence descended across the room, sinking deep into the earthen walls. "If- we find her."

"We will find her." Caspian pulled a report towards him, scanning the contents without really reading it. "My uncle is not one to act on hasty decisions."

Edmund dragged his hands over his face, tension lining his every movement. "Time," his voice was weary, a king not used to losing those close to him. Who has seen battle, and war, but does not wish to see any more death. "We just need some more time."

Time. Time. Eyes widening, the Telmarine leaned forward and looked toward the Just King. "I think there might be a way to buy us some time to search." Pulling close a sheaf of parchment and a discarded piece of charcoal, he scrawled out the first few lines of a letter. "Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer. But as king, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people."

And as the second-youngest Pevensie angled his head to read the words, the light of hope reigniting itself in his eyes. "Brilliant." He grinned. "That's brilliant."

Dusk was oncoming and swift, the air becoming frigid with cold. And yet the forest loomed as it always did, dark and menacing. To Emily's eyes though, it was enticing. Inviting. There had always been a spark in her blood for the unknown, the mystical, and magical.

The sky darkening above, she watched as a distant plume of smoke rose through the trees, presumably from one of the Telmarine war camps. A flinch runs through her as a memory of the day the dryads had vanished plays in her mind. Never again, she silently swore. Never again.

"The view is remarkable, is it not?" Emily didn't flinch, so much as turn, as Doctor Cornelius took up a seat beside her, feet swinging over the edge of the rock overhang. He pulled the thin scrap of fabric which served as a blanket closer to him, gaze drifting over the distance. "I have always wished to venture into the forest. Perhaps find my mother's people."

"You knew my father." The Guardian spoke blandly, bringing her knees to her chest against the chill.

The Doctor shifted, folding his hands in his lap, a hint of pride hidden in his words. "Your father was a good man, a good king. He ruled Narnia with no fear, that of Telmarine or native. Only the heart of his brother held a grudge."

"And you never thought to tell Caspian the truth?"

"I risked my life all these years so that one day, he might be a better king than those before him." Cornelius turned his head away from the beckoning Western Woods; the lamppost Emily knew was hidden beneath that canopy of green. "To become the most noble contradiction in history: The Telmarine who saved Narnia."

Emily twisted the ancient signet ring around her finger, face grave in the morning sunlight. "He has not failed you yet."

"We can only hope."

They were old; most of them anyway, the collection of the assembled lords of Telmar. And Emily highly doubted that any of them had seen war, true bloodshed and battle. Heard the screams of metal on metal mixing with the silence and groans of the dead or dying, or watched as friends keel over dead around them. She held the stare of one of the younger lords, a scar marring his features from the corner of his eye to his jaw. When she didn't back down or cower, he dropped the look, retreating to his notes as if burned. Smart man.

"...to the death. The reward shall be total surrender." The Just King silenced Miraz's calculating gaze with one of his own, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smile. He rolled up the scroll carefully, perfectly at ease within the tent of his enemies.

"Tell me, Prince Edmund-"

"King." Cutting Miraz off, the Edmund turned the scroll over in his hands, his words keeping their casual tone at the insult.

The Usurper started. And Emily, along with Edmund, had to stifle their laughter with royal expertise at the shock plastered across his face. Lords around the table shifted, the air within the tent filling with unpreceded tension. "Pardon?"

Emily straightened casually, her necklace flashing brightly as it caught the light. "It's King Edmund actually." And when the lords of Telmar turned towards her in surprise, she met each of their stares with an icy one of her own.

"Just King though." Edmund's presence drew the attention away from the Guardian as he fastened the scroll closed fully. An auburn-haired lord watched him intently, studying the young king with awe. "Peter is the High King. I know," an artful shrug, a show of humility and patience. All with the air of explaining the monarchy to a child. "It's confusing."

Miraz leaned forward, eyes narrowed and arms bracing on the wooden surface. From outside, the noise of a bustling war camp filtered in. "Why would we risk such a proposal when our army could wipe you out by nightfall?"

"Haven't you already underestimated our numbers?" Emily's fingers twitched closer to her dagger. And if her king noticed the simmering aura of rage that had settled around her, he made no comment. "Only a week ago, Narnian's were extinct."

Some of those assembled shifted, and some of the smarter ones dared to cast glances over towards Glenstorm and the Giant Wimbleweather. The two Narnian's observed the camp with a vague disinterest. A fear among the men, Emily noted with a sense of satisfaction and pride. Good.

"Narnian's weren't the only myth brought to life. You yourself, majesty," Miraz sneered the word, lips curving with distaste. "Your own tale is one of legends and ghosts. There are many stories of you and your siblings, some entombed in that stone crypt. Others are hidden away in the ice."

The temperature seemed to drop by multiple degrees. There had been a triumph in the Usurper's voice, an icy glint that sent Emily's blood roaring. The Telmarines who had seemed uneasy before were now smiling. Smirking. Every bit of willpower she possessed was put into keeping her expression unreadable mask.

But Edmund was a natural born politician. He knew how to play these games of the court and power. At the Just King's hand, words and letters could become as sharp as the finest dwarf made blade. "Then you should have little to fear. For ghosts cannot do people ay harm, can they not?"

Miraz laughed loudly, glancing at his men. "This is not a question of bravery."

"So, you're bravely refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?"

Silence.

A flicker of anger appeared in her uncle's eyes as he leaned forward. Thumbing the hilt of her blade, the tension in the room became solid, and Emily prepared to throw herself into the line of fire. "I did not say I refused."

The young lord with the scar who had been admiring Narnia's Guardian, cleared his throat, eyes rising only slightly. "You shall have our support, your majesty, whatever your decision."

"Sire," gray-haired and sharp-tongued, it was the Lord Sopespian who laid a hand flat on the dark surface, his voice laced with a coy edge. His eyes roamed across Edmund and Emily, observant and old. And just like the second youngest Pevensie, a natural born politician. "Our military advantage alone allows us the perfect excuse to avoid-"

"I am not avoiding anything!" It was all Emily could do not to draw her blade then and there as Miraz pushed back his chair with a roar, unsheathing his sword towards the older man in a single, fluid motion.

Sopespian cowered, surrender and a hidden spark coiled in the air as he raised both palms in defeat. "I am merely pointing out that my lord is well within his rights to refuse."

"His Majesty would never refuse," a well-oiled voice spoke from the tent's entrance. Emily turned her head to watch as he met Lord Sopespian's eyes with a burning but controlled, defiance. "He relishes the chance to show his people the bravery of their new king."

If the soldier had been any wiser, he would've started running at the look of pure rage and disbelief Miraz cut him. Eyes blazing with silence and warning. It was a battle of wills, one that both Edmund and Aslan's Lieutenant observed with interest.

"You," the Usurper pointed his sword at Edmund, staring down the blade at the younger monarch. "You had better hope your brother's sword proves sharper than his pen."

Edmund met Miraz's eyes, his only response coming in the form of a slow smile spreading across his features. It was only after they had left, the sound a bustle of the camp being swallowed by the Western Woods that were his domain did Emily speak.

"He gave us a clue." A smile spreading to match her king's, Emily breathed in the cool Narnian air, thanking the forgotten stars above. "He gave us a clue to where Susan is."

This chapter was meant to be uploaded last night.

That's a great way to start an author's note, no? Anyway, it was supposed to be up last night but due to exhaustion and an exam I had today, publishing was delayed. *Sighs* What can you do?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter- review if you'd like? It would mean a lot to me if you did. Maybe?

Question: What are your thoughts on Netflix getting the rights to the entire Chronicles of Narnia series?

Answer: I don't know. I'm sort of on the ambivalent side. On one hand, I absolutely adore the films. I think they're pure perfection in every single way. From the costumes to the actors, the settings, to the soundtrack. DEAR LORD THE SOUNDTRACK. But on the other hand, I'm curious to see where Netflix is going to take the series.

My words of wisdom for the day.

Ttyl

Liz