Disclaimer: Dear Genie from Aladdin, I wish I owned these characters. I can't? Well, I know they don't belong to me, but…fine. I own the characters that I own, I guess.
From across the field, all three of the Pevensie siblings remaining heard the same thing, chilling them to the bone. A young woman, screaming in agony, followed by a young man, whose very heart seemed to be breaking.
"Caspian!" Lucy shouted to her brothers, a look of distress coming across her face.
Both Peter and Edmund understood, and began to run over to the other side of the field, where the sound of his voice had come from.
On the opposite side of the battlefield, the king of New Telmar watched hopelessly as the high queen of old went limp against the wet grass. It had begun to pour, the cool rain mixing with the hot tears that burned his eyes.
He still found himself in the clutches of the two massive henchmen, trying desperately to get away. He knew that, since the first drop of poison had hit her wound, the clock had been ticking for Susan. And now, he couldn't do anything to help her, as he was trapped by the two hulking men.
It was just as he was having this despairing thought, that he heard both Hagar and Jyre scream out in pain. Looking over to Jyre, he did a double take. A long blade, covered in shining blood, was now protruding from his chest. Casting a glance towards Hagar, he saw the same thing happening.
Both huge men fell to the ground, releasing the king from their clutches. Looking both to his left and right, he saw both Edmund and Peter, with Lucy coming up behind them. Taking half a second to look at their curious faces, Caspian then scrambled over to where Susan lay, lifeless.
"Lucy!" he called to the youngest Pevensie urgently. She and her brothers came running. As soon as the trio set eyes on their sister, they stopped cold. The looks on all their faces were identical – stunned shock.
"Please!" the king yelled to Lucy again, breaking her out of her trance-like state. She ran over to where her sister lay, grabbing her bottle of cordial out of her belt.
It was then that a wildly savage scream filled the air. Scara, who had been tied up with one of Caspian's soldiers momentarily, was back, and willing to do anything to keep the girl on the ground from waking.
Grabbing Lucy round the waist, the king flung themselves out of the way of Scara's sword, paying careful attention that the small queen escaped uninjured. Rounding back up with the two brothers, the king looked at them hopelessly.
Scara was now standing in front of Susan, guarding her from the three young men. Her bloodied sword was gripped in her hand, expression wild. Silver hair, damp from the rain, clung to her face, masking the dried blood of her opponents spattered on her skin.
"There's no way she's going to give us enough time to administer the cordial out on the field, Caspian," Peter said quietly, his troubled mind trying to analyze the situation as fast as it could.
"What are we to do, then?" the Telmarine king asked, frantic.
"Ed and I will engage her, and keep her busy, while Lucy will give you her cordial. It will then be your task to take Susan to the medical wing, where you find the doctor, and have him administer the cordial as soon as possible. Do you understand?" the elder Pevensie relayed the plan to Caspian, never once taking his eyes off of the silver knight. All the king managed to do was nod.
"We're entrusting her to you now, Caspian. Keep her safe," Lucy said quietly, placing the small bottle of cordial in his hands. He looked at her, her usually calm and knowledgeable blue eyes now filled with fear. He then glanced around at her brothers, who shared almost an identical expression.
"I will do my best," the king spoke, his voice constricted with emotion. Both Peter and Edmund nodded to him, determination ablaze in their eyes.
Calling one of the palace horses over to him, Caspian cast another look at the woman on the ground. Her eyes were closed, and her body was limp. Her dark hair was clinging to her face, as well as lying lifeless on the wet grass. The blood from the knife wound was now seeping into her clothes, rendering a very helpless picture indeed.
Scara was still waiting, eyes locked with Peter's.
"Ready?" the high king called to both his other siblings, and Caspian, gripping his sword tighter in his hands. He could see all three of them nod to him through his peripheral vision. He then let out a mighty yell, and charged straight toward the knight, with Edmund at his side.
Scara automatically engaged both of them, thrashing her sword around wildly. Eventually, she became so preoccupied fighting the pair of brothers that she didn't see Caspian riding behind her, straight toward her victim.
When he finally reached the ailing queen, Caspian wasted no time in jumping off his horse, scooping Susan up in his arms, and putting her atop the beast. He climbed back on, and spurred the animal into a full gallop back toward the castle.
Rushing through the gates, he found himself surrounded by deserted village. The streets were quiet, which seemed to amplify every noise that his horse made. Even so, he raced down the cobblestone streets as fast as the animal he was on would carry them.
After what seemed like forever, he finally reached the medical wing of the castle. Dismounting his horse, he gently slid the queen into his arms, and ran into the infirmary.
The infirmary was a large room, with a high ceiling. It had many windows, and a large doorway that led to a balcony, overlooking Narnia. The area that was right in front of the entryway was specifically designed for waiting. It was filled with plush benches and chairs, with large pillows on the floor. Beyond that, there were rows of beds, each with a beautifully decorated divider separating it from the others. A small fire resided in the middle of the room, burning a very lightly scented incense. And above all, the room seemed vacant. There was no one in any of the beds, and the doctor couldn't be seen anywhere.
Staggering around for a moment or two, trying to catch his breath, the king looked around frantically for someone to help him.
"Hello?" he called out, cradling Susan in his arms, "Is anyone here? Doctor? I need help! Please! Hello?"
He continued to walk farther in the room, becoming more and more desperate with every step.
"Will someone help me, please!" he cried out, feeling his voice threatening to crack.
"I'm coming, just as soon as I can!" another voice answered him. Suddenly, a door swung open from the back, and a short, old man rushed out to meet him. As soon as the doctor saw who he was in the presence of, he quickly grabbed the sides of his robe, and bowed.
"Doctor, please," Caspian stuttered as he looked down at the bloody and bruised face of his love, "Queen Susan is in dire need of your help."
As soon as his patient's name escaped the king's mouth, the doctor's eyes widened.
"Quick, get her onto one of the beds!" He commanded, as Caspian moved to the nearest bed, and placed her gently on top of it.
The doctor quickly washed his hands in a basin of water next to the bed, and began to inspect his patient. His eyes were immediately drawn to the bloody wound on her torso.
"What happened to her?" He questioned as he inspected the source of the bleeding.
"She was stabbed…in her torso…" the king managed to explain as he ran his hand over his face, becoming more and more agitated as the moments ticked by. Seeing this, the doctor turned toward his king.
"With all due respect, my king, I'm going to have to ask you to wait over by the entrance," he said slowly, noticing the bottle of cordial hanging from his belt, "and may I have Queen Lucy's cordial, if you please?"
Nodding, the king hastily untied the bottle from his belt, and handed it to the old man. He then looked down at Susan one more time, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
"It's all going to be alright, my love. Hold on for me, okay?" he whispered softly, feeling a hot tear roll down his cheek.
Brushing it off, he stood up, patted the doctor on the shoulder, and walked over to the waiting area.
Peter's sword clashed against Scara's for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. He and Edmund had been trying to take this woman down for at least fifteen minutes after Caspian had left them.
Eventually, one of the knight's soldiers stepped in to help, leaving Peter to face the wild, wicked woman by himself. It was then that a flurry of Underground soldiers rushed past him, making it nearly impossible to see his opponent.
When the traffic had cleared, both brother's fighting opponents had vanished, leaving them looking around the field in confusion.
Over on the other side of the field, both Scara and her solider were now tangled up with Dominic, the king's best friend. Though he was a good fighter, he was still young, and Scara knew that. Taking advantage of his lack of skill, Scara and her mystery soldier cornered him, ready to kill.
Just as she was about to swing her sword, however, one of Caspian's generals blocked her attack, engaging her in another fight.
"Kill him!" the silver knight screamed to her soldier, who now had the young man at sword point. She then proceeded to dispatch of the general, who fell at her feet.
"Did you not hear me, soldier?" she questioned, dislodging her sword from the dead man, "Kill him."
"I can't…" came the soft reply of the soldier, who seemed afraid.
"You dare to refuse your commanding officer?" the knight asked quietly, her teeth gritted together. Her thirst for blood had put her patience on the edge of a knife, and this soldier had just crossed the boundaries.
"I'm sorry, Scara, I can't," the quiet voice said again. The sword in the soldier's hand dropped to the ground, giving Dominic the perfect opportunity to clamber off the ground, and run back into the midst of the battle.
"And now you let my enemy escape. There is no excuse for that," Scara raised her voice slightly, her tone venomous.
It was then that she took her sword, and slashed her soldier across the back, as hard as she possibly could. Almost immediately, the victim fell to the ground, writhing.
Walking over to her fallen soldier, she knelt down, and removed the helmet he wore. To her shock, it wasn't one of her soldiers at all. Instead, she found herself looking into the emerald green eyes of the current queen of New Telmar.
"You said…that no civilians would be…hurt," Ethine gasped, fighting her demise.
"My dear queen, these aren't civilians, they are soldiers," Scara said coolly, feeling minimal remorse for what she had just done.
"They are citizens…of New Telmar…and they're dying…"
"I lied. And besides. I just needed you to keep the castle gates open. And as of thus far, they haven't closed. So thank you, Lady Ethine, you are no longer of use to me."
Having said her last words to the dying queen of New Telmar, she stood up, grabbed her sword, and ran back into the fight.
"Scara! Scara, please…" Ethine breathed, feeling herself fade away, "come back."
Watching the world blur around her, the queen of both Telmar and Narnia shed a single tear, and looked up into the dripping clouds.
"Forgive me, Caspian."
And she was gone.
It had been almost half an hour since Caspian had arrived with Susan to the infirmary. Half an hour of him sitting, helpless, letting the doctor work on his Susan. Finally, the doctor came out from behind the divider.
Caspian had been so anxious that he almost knocked over the seat he was sitting on when he first caught sight of the older gentleman. Rushing over to meet him, he could barely contain himself.
"Doctor, how is she? When may I see her?"
"I would like to inform you that the cordial worked wonderfully, my lord. It healed all her wounds beautifully," the doctor stated slowly.
"Yes, that's fantastic," the king said, slightly distracted, "but when may I see her?"
"In just a moment," said the doctor softly, "But first, more about the cordial. As you know, the cordial heals flesh wounds. It mends broken bones, punctured lungs, etcetera."
"Yes, I know," Caspian answered, slightly annoyed.
"Was Queen Susan getting stabbed the only reason why she is here? Because the wound was not that great. Did you tell me everything?"
Taking a moment to pause, Caspian thought back. Had he told the doctor everything?
"The nectar of the Dragonflower. Extremely venomous, except to the bugs who live off it. This, my dear king, is what is going to kill her. Not the knife wound."
No. No, he hadn't.
"She…she was poisoned," the king explained, becoming rather inarticulate, "but the cordial can cure that, yes?"
"Sire, one thing that the cordial does not do is search out harmful pathogens in the blood stream, such as poison," the doctor stammered, averting his eyes from his king.
"What are you saying?" Caspian whispered to him, looking down at the old man in horror.
"I…" the doctor fumbled with his words for a moment.
"Doctor!" the king cried, feeling his heart race.
The old man looked up at his king, lip trembling.
"She is dead, my lord."
Finally, after several more agonizing minutes of searching, Peter finally came across Scara again. He wasted no time in attacking her, seeing that she had grown slightly weary from fighting.
The knight suddenly found herself being bombarded with attacks from the high king of old. And as much as she tried, she just couldn't keep up with his speed and agility. Swinging her sword wildly, she gave up on technique, and found herself fighting to stay alive.
In watching her attacks, Peter noticed a large flaw in one of the knight's moves. When she swung her sword at him, she left a large majority of her face exposed. Knowing what he had to do, the high king waited for her to perform that one move again.
After some amount of time, she did it again, and he was ready. Dodging her blow, he brought his arm around, letting the top of the blade come down on her face. The sharpened metal quickly slid right across her right eye, turning her face into a bloody mess.
Flailing wildly, she crumpled at his feet, unconscious.
Satisfaction filled his system, as he lifted his blade over his head, ready to skewer her. Just as his hand was coming down, however, another sword blocked his own. Suddenly, Peter found himself looking into the face of General Ramirez, head general for the Underground army.
"You've killed her already," he said gruffly, "spare her the second honor of your sword, and we will retreat."
Looking into the general's eyes, the king saw nothing but the blatant truth.
"Very well. Collect your dead, and then be gone," he told the general flatly, who nodded briskly.
Finding a horse, the king mounted it, and made his way over to Caspian's head general, Javier Martinez.
"Truce! Scara has fallen! Enough for one day!" he could hear General Ramirez call to his troops in the background.
"What is the meaning of this?" Javier asked, glancing over at the retreating enemy.
"The Underground's leader has fallen. They have called a truce. I have allowed them the right to collect their dead. Tell our men to get the wounded on horses, and to collect our own dead. Once every last Underground soldier has left, they may return to the castle."
"Yes, sire."
Peter then turned his attention to finding his brother and sister. It took only a moment to locate both of them.
"Susan!" he called to both of them, who understood. They both mounted their horses, and rode with their brother back to the castle.
No. No, no no, no.
It seemed to be the only word that Caspian could think of. Before he knew what he was doing, he was running. Past the doctor, past the divider, over to where his Susan lay. She was no longer wearing her armor, but rather, just a simple white shirt. Her face appeared to be peaceful, almost as if she were sleeping.
He ran to her side, refusing to believe that what the doctor said was true. Taking her arm in his hand, he pressed two fingers down on the inside of her wrist. Nothing. Feeling his heart sink a little lower, he gently put her arm back down. He then took his fingers, and moved them to the side of her neck, searching for a pulse there. Again, nothing. Lastly, he desperately placed his ear to her heart, praying for a response. Silence.
He sat back up, looking into the face of the queen. It was in that moment that it seemed like the whole of Caspian's world seemed to crumble around him. Feeling his eyes well up with tears, he dropped his head into her stomach, taking a hold of her hand in the process, and sobbed silently.
The doctor watched sadly on, as his king's strong shoulders trembled with sorrow. Bowing his head, he walked slowly back to the fire in the middle of the room, and sat, staring into the flames.
After a few moments, Caspian lifted his head to look at his queen again. Her face was still covered in blood and dirt, as well as her arms. Standing up, he ripped off his armor, placing it in a pile next to the divider. Wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he walked over to where the now empty basin of water sat.
Taking a pitcher of water, he refilled the basin. He then grabbed a cloth from a nearby shelf, and placed it in the liquid. Trying his hardest to keep his tears under control, he wrung the cloth out, and sat next to Susan on her bed.
He gently pushed her hair out of the way, and softly began to remove the dry dirt and blood from her features. He tenderly cleaned every part of her face, letting the water wash away the grime of the battle.
"Don't leave me, carina," he whispered through his tears, "Por favor, don't leave me."
Placing the cloth back in the basin, he gathered her in his arms, resting his head on top of hers. Salty droplets fell from his eyes of their own accord, flowing into her hair.
"I need you, Susan," he sighed, still cradling her, "Mi reina, mi amor, mi corazon."
It was then that he heard the infirmary doors open, and Peter's voice ringing out in the room.
"Where is she? Where are Susan and Caspian?"
Laying Susan back down in the bed, Caspian got up to answer the high king.
"She is here," he called back, his voice sounding tired. The sound of three pairs of footsteps came running toward him. Soon, the king found himself looking at the faces of the remaining Pevensie siblings.
The three of them looked at him for a moment, and then looked over at their sister.
"Asleep?" Edmund asked, his tone hopeful.
"I'm afraid not," Caspian answered sadly, unable to look at any of the siblings. The room was then filled with each of their audible gasps.
There was a moment of pure silence, but then it was broken by the soft cries of the youngest Pevensie, as she walked over to where her sister lay. Edmund seemed to be frozen to the spot, as if he was too shocked to move. Peter was quiet too, until he suddenly lunged at the king.
"YOU…YOU FOUL GIT! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KEEP HER SAFE!" he screamed, as he tried to get his hands around Caspian's neck, "THIS IS YOUR DOING!"
"PETER PEVENSIE!" Edmund roared at his brother, pulling him off of Caspian, "This isn't his fault, and you know it! We can't blame this on anyone."
Staggering back, Peter nodded, knowing his brother was right. His face was now streaked and puffy from tears.
"Sorry, Caspian. I just…" he stammered, looking for the right words.
"It's alright. I understand," the dark haired king answered, feeling so emotionally drained.
"How come," Lucy began, mopping her eyes with her sleeve, "the cordial didn't work?"
"According to the doctor, the cordial only heals physical wounds, such as mending broken bones, and stitching torn skin back together. That was what Susan had, but she had poison injected into her bloodstream. And apparently, the cordial can't heal that." Caspian explained, holding back another wave of tears.
There was a long silence, where the only sounds that could be heard were the soft sniffles of everyone in the infirmary.
"What are we going to do then?" Edmund questioned softly, breaking the harsh silence.
"We can have her cleaned up, and let the public pay their respects tomorrow, if you'd like," Caspian sighed, pulling over a bench and sitting down, "and then we can have her buried."
"That sounds reasonable," Peter agreed, running a hand over his face, "what are we to do with her tonight?"
"Why don't we just let her rest here for the night?" the king suggested, "I will stay with her."
The siblings looked at each other, and then at Caspian. They all nodded their heads in sorrowful approval. Suddenly, the doors swung open again, this time, yielding a much louder noise.
Casting a glance at the door, Caspian saw all of his wounded men being carried in by their fellow soldiers. One by one, they filled up the empty beds, prompting the doctor to send for his attendants as he got to work on each of the wounded.
Looking at the men, Lucy's heart sank. Many were limping, some looked lifeless, and all of their faces showed the pain and suffering that they were going through. Soft groans could be heard all throughout the room, breaking the youngest Pevensie's heart.
Grabbing her cordial off of Susan's bedside table, she ran over to the doctor, who took it gratefully. She then walked back over to where her brothers and the king were standing, feeling rather tired. Taking Peter's hand in her own, she looked up at him with swollen eyes.
"Can we go now?" she whispered, her voice light.
The eldest Pevensie looked at his youngest sister, feeling the rest of his heart break. Even though she was much older now than when he had last did this, he hoisted her up in his arms, carrying her.
"You ready, Ed?" his brother nodded back.
The three of them slowly walked away from their sister, to the doors of the infirmary. Just as they were about to leave, though, Peter turned back around, and looked at the lone king.
"Thank you, Caspian. I know how hard you tried," he said, teeth gritted together to keep from crying again. He watched as Caspian nodded stiffly back at him, and then turned back around, walking out the door.
Caspian turned back to Susan, pretending that she was only asleep. Swapping the bench for a comfier chair, he sat right next to her bed, stroking her hair.
Darkness was beginning to cloak the sky, the rain coming in torrents now. The fire in the middle of the room burned brighter, as candles and torches were starting to be lit all around the room.
Listening to the sound of his men in their anguish prompted the king to go around and pay small visits to all his soldiers that were able to have company, thanking them for their service. Eventually, he made his way back to where his queen was, taking his seat next to her.
Night crept into the infirmary, sending the tired souls to sleep. Taking his love's hand in his own, the king closed his eyes, and fell into the most fitful night of sleep he had ever had.
All through the night, the rain pounded against the castle, and lightning flickered across the sky. And, every so often, the sound of a great lion's cry came, hidden within the rolls of thunder in the deep.
A/N: Hey, guys! First things first. Sorry that this chapter is so unbelievably short, but let me tell you, it was surprisingly emotionally draining to write! Haha. Second, OH MY GOD, IT'S THE SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER! Wow. Took me long enough. :) Third, let me know what you thought of it! Leave a review, send a message, do what you gotta do. Ahaha. Fourth, anyone see the last Harry Potter film? O_o Fo' real. Alright! So. That's all I have for you today, gang! Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to review. Cause you're cool like that. Hehe.
~Gabby