CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
ALLIANCE

There was a nearly complete silence within the halls of the Northern wing, with nothing but the steps of guards passing by, the servants doing their duty, or even the little creatures that had found a job somehow within the many halls of the castle chattering as they went; and within the High King's private reading room, nothing but the crackling of the pointless flames in the fireplace, or the tip of his quill scribbling down almost urgently against the parchment could be heard. Because Peter Pevensie's thoughts were too many, and his only solace rested on that quill and the ink plastering the entirety of his wishes onto the parchment as it became his reality, his strength: I don't care if you won't even read this, but today is your birthday, and everyone else is mourning your death... His breath echoed almost too loudly to his ears against the cursed silence that allowed him too much time to think, too much time to want, to wish, to hope onto the very truth he continued scribbling too urgently for his usual penmanship to appear anything but messy, I don't believe it; I think you're still out there, and until the last breath in my body I will keep looking, and I'm going to find you... I will, because I care. I care, I lo... the echoes of the knocking on his door startled him and made the final unfinished word become no more than a scratch against the parchment; it made him release a heavy breath as he set the quill down, "Come in."

When the door opened, Peter was as much glad to see his younger brother, as Edmund became worried when he fully stepped into the room; because there was absolutely no way for him to ignore the dishevelled state of Peter's clothes and hair, or the clear tiredness in the blue of his eyes, or the stubble all along his chin that had gone entirely unkempt. And for it, though Edmund had had a reason to search for the High King that afternoon, it suddenly didn't seem as important as the sorrow that Peter so clearly attempted to hide from him by passing his fingers through his hair with one hand whilst covering the parchment in front of him with the other.

Perhaps once upon a time Edmund definitely would have been fooled; but too much time had passed, too many things happened, and too much love rested inside his heart for the High King, that any attempts at secrecy were as useless as his once endless lectures had been when he was ten. Not to mention, the way he had covered the parchment had been so obvious that Edmund didn't even have to be able to read it to know not only that it was not meant for any political issue, but who it was for; after all, there were only five people in that world who could leave the High King so troubled: one of them stood in front of him, three others were perfectly safe and sound inside the castle, and the fifth... well, the fifth one had been pronounced dead a week before. "Peter, don't do this to yourself," He said instead of a greeting whilst a frown shadowed his eyes, "Not when you know Athena can't—"

"What do you want, Edmund?" Peter interrupted with a cool note; resting both hands on top of the parchment as if that protected everything he had scribbled on it. "Did you come here for something, or are you here just to judge me?"

Of course the words hurt—how could they not, when things had been going so well between them before the Ettins attacked—but it was obvious that grief was to fault for the harshness of his utterance; so, for once, Edmund forced himself to let it go with the single release of a breath and a swift and obviously displeased cross of his arms. "Lucy and Juliet are back," He informed because of it as plainly as he could. "They're waiting with Susan in her map room; Lucy says she achieved the alliance with Archenland, but before she signs, she wants to talk to all of us." He paused, "To you."

The frown in the middle of Peter's forehead only deepened. "Me?" He wondered, only by then finding will to straighten his posture. "Why? She knows we trust her judgement on alliances, why would she need to talk to me?"

Edmund's head simply shook to accompany the single shrug of his shoulders as he turned slightly to head in the direction of the door he had left open. "I don't know, but I guess it'll be easier to just go there and ask her, don't you think?" And with no more than that, he left; not even allowing himself to stop for a second and wait for his brother to follow along, not when the stinging words he had spoken had been ignored for the sake of the avoidance of a fight when he was clearly so sad. Let him walk alone to Susan's map room, he thought, see if I care; of course the frown across his forehead remained, and a single hand rested on the hilt of his sword, because even he couldn't lie to himself regardless of what he thought otherwise: he cared, he always cared.

-O-

The daggers rested admired at the centre of the giant map table, with a near blushing Juliet listening to the echoes of praise that fell from Lucy and Susan's lips; it was something she definitely hadn't thought would be the side effect of having to truly protect the Valiant Queen upon her first trip to a foreign country, but it was something that did happen as Lucy replayed their entrance into Archenland territory three days prior; almost as if she were telling the tale of a great warrior that had fought a battle. "I beg thee, stop." Juliet attempted, even moving to reach for her daggers once again so she could place them safely upon their sheaths against her forearms. "Else thou wouldst make me sound like something I am not."

"I will not stop." Lucy claimed with that familiar smile as a single hand moved to push a few lose locks behind her ear. "I am proud of my best friend, is that so bad?" She wondered. "The way you jumped from our horse and took out those daggers to meet a sword!"

But Juliet's head shook again, "Lucy, please!" She called, unable to erase the smile from modest lips. "I pray thee, stop, or be proud when I am not around, for thy words are too much."

"Well, they should be: I am proud!" Lucy repeated and easily laughed at the wordless response from her Lady, who had simply taken hold of the folds of her skirt and continued on blushing deep; Lucy gently nudged her before a single side embrace was gifted to her with the hopes of comfort. "You even made it look easy in that dress."

Even Susan seemed impressed, "I do wish I had been there to see it." After all, getting off a horse in a silk dress was easier said than done, and if Juliet had not only done such a thing, but had the skill to unsheathe two daggers from her arms and meet the coming sword in time for it to stop it from striking, then it had to have been something much more impressive to see than it had sounded; of course, the only reason the tale came to be told was because the person holding the sword hadn't been anyone who meant any true harm, but a guard of Archenland keeping outlanders out of their roads, which had been exactly what the Queen and her Lady had been thought to be for their lack of more guards or escorts. Good surprise the guard had gotten when Juliet told him who he had just attacked; thus making the tale as much a funny one as one to leave Susan as impressed as Lucy had been.

It was those smiles Edmund Pevensie first saw upon entering the room; that, and Juliet's nearly too red complexion, which became enough for not only his previous displeasure to disappear with a relieved recollection of all the good things he had in his life, but also make a soft smile appear across his lips. "What are you three talking about now?" He wondered, praying within his short wonder that his sisters wouldn't notice the slightly longer glance in Juliet's direction before he even thought of sitting down by Susan's side; after all, it wasn't as if he could just walk in her direction and plant a kiss against her lips to make up for all the kisses he had wished for whilst she had been away; not in front of his sisters, at least.

"Juliet's heroics, of course," Lucy began, ready to speak every single detail of their adventure in Archenland anew; but before she could, Juliet's hands easily lifted to cover the young queen's lips at once.

"Once is enough, I beg of thee." She said with a deeper blush; but her actions made Susan break into a short echo of laughter that matched the muffled mirth from Lucy's lips as her hands lifted to pull on Juliet's.

Once they gave, Lucy's sudden single gasp of excitement echoed around the room, "You and Edmund should duel!" She said without entirely letting go of Juliet's hands.

"What!?" It was the first time Edmund and Juliet seemed to agree so strongly about something in public and in unison; even if that something was the very shock of the young Queen's proposition and nothing else. "I pray thee, nay, for I am not as skilled as he." Juliet claimed then.

"Yeah," Edmund agreed regardless of what the playfulness of the idea brought into his mind. "She's definitely not as skilled as me, and it wouldn't exactly be fair, would it?" He motioned in Juliet's direction, "I mean, look at her; I'd have her on the ground in a second."

All Lucy and Susan could do was smile at one another with near excitement the moment the young Protector turned to look at Edmund with narrowed eyes after she scoffed, "Fairness be damned, your majesty." She said en par to his near-mocking grin, "Indeed, know that I am aware thou wouldst win in the end, yet, still, our match would last more than a second, for I would have thee on the ground myself at least once before the end: I am good enough for that."

"Challenge accepted, then." Edmund retorted, even leaning slightly on the table for the very playfulness allowed within the single friendship they held public enough for their words; but by the Lion, if they had been alone, simply dalliant as they had been in private for so long, then he would have even taken out his sword, brought the challenge there and then, and he would know that the second one of them hit the ground, the other would follow, somehow turning a duel into an hour or two of kissing until one of them had to pull away for breath.

But alas, they were not alone.

As it was, because they were not alone, the playfulness of the situation made a certain spark of joy shine within the room, one which mirrored the happiness Cair Praravel had lived in before the entirety of the Ettinsmoor situation had begun; before the small war, the deaths, the disappearances: before Athena's death. As if the light of their friendship managed to break the cloud of grief long enough to allow a few smiles, a couple of waves of laughter, and the relief of forgetting about everything else for a moment or two; but even through the speck of relief came the remainder of their reality barging back into the room when Peter entered it, so clearly feigning strength and courage for the sake of all those people walking the hallways of Cair Paravel and therefore reminding them all of the very reason for which they sat down together that afternoon in the first place.

It was why the smiles faded, why the challenge in Edmund's features disappeared, and why Juliet's frame hunched slightly with the guilt that very easily slipped into her mind: because how dare she smile, laugh, blush, and play when a war was so painfully near? How dare she feel joyous when the life of someone she loved had been declared to have been taken barely a week before? Easily, the silence shifted in its lightness to the heaviness of everyone's remembered grief as not but the echoes of Peter's feet and the creaking wood of the chair he pulled back became the tense soundtrack to their thoughts; but it was a silence broken when he finally sat down and simply said: "I'm sorry I'm late," As if it were some awful crime to have made them all wait, "What is it you need us to discus, Lu?"

Any speck of forgetfulness onto the very grief that united them upon that gloomy afternoon disappeared by the sense of duty and seriousness easily called forth by the High King; and just like that, a room which had been the place of no more than four friends, suddenly became the meeting place of two kings, two queens, and a silent lady. It was a change of mood so swift that if none of them were so used to it, it might have caused a little more of a pause; but it happened to be normal enough for Lucy's hands to reach into her little leather parcel without thinking too much about it, and retrieve the scroll that she had wished to speak so detailedly about. "As you all know, I'd been keeping a small alliance alive with Archenland by written word," she began, easily undoing the little string knot keeping the parchment securely rolled. "It was because of that little alliance that we were so easily welcomed into their lands; but I knew that what I needed to ask was better done face to face with King Lune."

"We also don't have enough time to wait for written replies," Susan reminded whilst her hands moved to rest crossed atop her table. "But go on."

As the unrolling scroll became flattened by her hands, Lucy agreed with a nod, "Well, the good news is, King Lune is more than willing to stand by our side against the Ettinsmoor rebellion with nothing more than one single request." She paused. "Not only for the sake of our small existing alliance, but because it seems the Ettins have also been bothering them, even if in lesser means than us." She nodded, finally placing the parchment flat in front of her so the title of bold letters screaming TREATY OF BERUNA could be seen by all who looked.

"And the bad news?" Wondered Edmund as he frowned.

With a heavy breath, Lucy confessed: "He expects us to seal this alliance by marriage." Her ocean blue eyes focused on her eldest brother with a worried frown as her lips pressed together; as if saying nothing would be enough to make the truth become nothing but a bad dream, as if she could save any of them from having to do something as horrible as marrying for convenience instead of love; she who called Juliet Capulet, the very epitome of love within that other home she could barely remember, her best friend; she wanted to—

"It's fine," Susan interrupted Lucy's guilt and the inner wonderings of everyone in the room, making all eyes land on her, "We all knew it would come to this one day; it's only fair," she nodded, "It was my idea to talk to the Ettins about an alliance, and I failed; besides, given the recent death of King Lune's wife, not only am I not at all surprised this became his request, but I'm surprised we didn't foresee it and offered it first." A smile lifted her lips in such a sad way that it appeared to easily break everyone's hearts, "If it will help Narnia... I'll do it."

"Susan..." Peter attempted, feeling the pain under her words as if it were his own; but another voice broke though their misery before he could say something else.

"No." It was Lucy, who had been so deep into her own wishes to erase the truth that the interruption came too late, "I didn't mean you, Susan; I'm sorry," She confessed with a deeper frown. "The proposal isn't for you... it's for Peter." She said; finally looking at her older brother again, "King Lune offers his full support, only if you agree to marry his sister, and make her High Queen of Narnia."

For a moment no one said anything; nothing but the echoes of the birds outside the high window, or the creaking wood settling under all their weight, nothing but the eyes of the two Kings and Susan resting on Lucy's frame, as if they didn't know she wouldn't lie, as if they didn't know she would never concoct a joke in such a dire moment, as if they didn't know her; but it was when they all remembered they did, that the silence broke as loudly as if it had been a glass thrown across the room. "Then no, that is impossible." Susan said, at the same time in which Edmund scoffed a loud "He better be joking!" And Peter uttered the only word anyone truly even paid attention to: "Fine."

"Peter, no." Susan quickly said, finally the only voice echoing in the room with nothing but displeasure. "Think about it for a moment, please. We don't know what he wants with this, he could be trying to sabotage us entirely, and—"

"The only reason we even thought of a full alliance with Archenland was because King Lune and his people have been good to us," Peter interrupted as he leaned forward on his chair, "Why doubt that now, when he is asking for one single thing as simple as marriage instead of taking advantage of the fact that we obviously need him and asking for more?"

"Single?" Edmund countered beside him, "Simple?" his frown deeply set in the middle of his forehead. "It may be just one thing now, but Susan's right; why would he ask specifically for you if not to reach a higher goal?" He paused. "Everyone knows you're the High King, Peter; what if by asking this one thing he expects to control you somehow? Ask for more things later; control us, and that way control Narnia."

"Don't be ridiculous," the High King quickly answered with a roll of his eyes "If he wanted to control Narnia, he could easily join the Ettins against us, turn against them once we're defeated, and take the kingdom for himself." He looked at Susan, then. "You know he has been good to us, he has been a friend thus far, why would that change simply because of an offer of marriage?"

"It's not the offer itself, you have to see that." Susan replied, sitting straighter. "It's that he specifically asked for you; I mean, think about it, what if—"

"I am thinking about it, Susan!" Peter exclaimed, rising from his chair with enough swiftness to startle everyone in the room into silence. "I'm thinking about it, and I'm thinking about Narnia. We are vulnerable, and at this point, if we don't want more people to die, we are desperate; something which is obviously clear for Archenland and his King to see; and still his single request is that I marry his sister, so I will." He paused, looking from Susan to Edmund, to Juliet, and finally to Lucy. "I like it as much as if Susan had to marry Lune himself, but it is what must be done; so unless one of you can come up with a better solution that will not end in further bloodshed, I will do it."

The idea seemed as ridiculous to Juliet—who remained quiet over her single position in the room as Lucy's companion and witness—as it did to everyone else in the room, yet no one; not even Susan, who had had to deal with the same sort of marital thoughts since the troubles with Ettinsmoor had begun; dared say a single thing against the challenge thrown by the High King. Even Lucy had nothing to say, and nothing anyone did could break that silence for a while; not because they didn't want to, nor because they didn't have anything to say, but because they knew above everything that it was the only possible solution to the problem that had already taken much too long to resolve: the war against the Ettins could not be put off for much longer. They knew it was a miracle they had not already been attacked; and though the time that had passed only made the promise of vengeance into a loud rhythm of hate or anger in Juliet and Edmund's minds, they also knew that the rebels surely would not wait much longer, and they were in fact, running out of time.

Thus, indeed: they had no more to say.

"That's what I thought," Peter finally said, not even trying to hide the near unexpected speck of disappointment that came across his features; which only made Juliet think that perhaps there had been a small part of him that had hoped they would come up with another solution in time; without sitting again, he looked at Lucy at last. "How does King Lune expect us to make it known we agree to his terms?"

Defeat, even if only among themselves, was clearly claimed. "All that needs to be done is for this parchment to be signed and given back to him." She admitted, shortly eyeing the quill and inkpot by Susan's side of the big table as if it were an enemy. "The moment it's signed by all of us you will be officially engaged to Princess Juno." She paused, sliding the parchment in Susan's direction for the practicality of it as she picked up the quill. "When the King receives this back by my hand, he will make all the necessary arrangements to send the princess to us."

There was a sad reluctance in Susan's features, which caused her the pause on the scribbling of her signature that allowed Juliet to notice something for the first time: there was a shadow in Peter's expression, something under the mask of security with which he attempted to face the truth of his engagement that disquieted her; a single shadow which she thought to have seen somewhere else, a long time ago, as she looked upon a mirror placed within the room of someone whose body she possessed.

It had been her second time within her duty as Protector; she had been sitting on a bed of hay within the humble house of a farmer girl of the sixteenth century just after the girl's soon to be fiancée had left, and the very first kiss Juliet had had since her death had been in her mind; a kiss that had been so hard to allow regardless of the fact that it was neither her body nor her life. What she had seen on that mirror had been guilt plastered on the dark features of the farmer girl, but the guilt had not been hers: it had been Juliet's; it had been a guilt brought into her mind regardless of if the person she felt she had betrayed did not deserve it; because, whether it was her life or not, whether they were her lips or not, Juliet Capulet had felt as if she had betrayed the very memory of the one person she had loved then by accepting someone else's kiss. And it was that same expression that she thought she saw shadowing the features of the High King from the moment the signing of the document had begun until the stylised scribble of his name ended up upon the parchment too. "So be it." He said, laying the quill on top of the fully signed document, and turning immediately to walk away from the room.

Indeed, the guilt of betrayal of a personal sort rested in the eldest King's mind, but even as she saw him walking head-held-high and stoically away from the gloom and silence of Susan's map room, the only thing Juliet could wonder was: betrayal against whom?