Heyyy everybody! You're reading the work of next season's DRUM MAJOR for my high school's marching band! Wootwoot!!

I'm so sorry about the wait, but you'll be happy to know that I have been working to get this chapter out the entire time.

Still, even with ample time to review, few have. Thanks to those who have, but to the rest, ...what happened?

Captain Rika Kisuktai: Why are you always so spot on? Er I mean Ihavenoideawhatyouaretalkingabout! Eheh eh.

Little Miss Sparrow: Tia Dalma vs Calypso; I just wanted to call her something else. You know, like how Amy can also be 'the lass' or Todd or something else. I felt I needed to call Tia Dalma something else . It was coincidence that it was the last time she was named.

Also thank you, Authoressinhiding, Inwë, and RespectTheSporks for your faithful reviews.

Disclaimer: I shall know Pirates are not mine like the back of my hand, or I'll know the back of Disney's. (Wow, a Horatio Hornblower reference...and I've never even seen it! XD)

Chapter 28: A Movie Plug-In, and—Father?!

And so came the White Witch, carried on a litter by four ugly cyclops, and accompanied by her commanding general and a patrol of other minotaurs. The dwarf Ginnarbrik strode in front of the procession, announcing "The Queen of Narnia!" and other such nonsense.

The entirety of Aslan's army lined their path, all the way to the lion's tent; the King of Narnia himself waited outside of it, eyes never leaving the witch. Some bellowed their outrage, along with some obscenities—however, others were wary and bewildered, asking one another, "What should we do?"

James, beside Amy and the four Pevensie children, lashed his tail, a soft growl rumbling at the back of his throat, threatening to grow into a snarl at any moment. His paw (hand?) rested on the hilt of his sword, ready to jump into battle in an instant.

The nightmarish creatures (though also goofy and clumsy-looking) set down the litter, and the embodiment of all that is Sin and Temptation rose, and began to approach Aslan. "You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan," she said informatively, glancing at Edmund. A murmur of shock went through the crowd, and James' snarl finally came out as he tightened his grip on his sword.

"His offense was not against you," the Great Lion replied calmly.

"Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was built?"

"Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch," Aslan commanded with a roar in his voice, adding in a growl, "I was there when it was written."

"Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me," the witch replied. "His blood is my property."

Peter drew his sword and cried, "Try and take him then!" Aslan and James growled warning to him as Jadis gazed at him with disdain.

"Do you really think that mere force will deny me my right, little king? Aslan knows that, unless I have blood as the law demands," she turned to face the crowd and raised her voice, "all of Narnia will be overturned, and perish in fire and water. That boy," she pointed menacingly at Edmund, "will die, on the Stone Table." Cries of protest rang out among the ranks. "As is tradition. You dare not refuse me."

"Enough," Aslan said quietly. "I shall talk with you alone." The two retreated into the great red tent.

"Nothing now but to wait," Amy sighed; the bitterness in her voice, however calm she seemed, could not be missed.

"I don't understand," James growled, massaging his paw where he had held his sword too tensely. "What can Aslan do to stop this, if stopping it will only destroy Narnia?"

Amy remained silent, only staring solemnly at the scarlet tent that held the two most powerful beings she would ever encounter in person.

At last, after what seemed like ages, the tent flap moved, and the audience, who had sat and waited where they stood, hurriedly got to their feet (or what have you) and gathered to hear the outcome. Out stepped the White Witch. She cast a glance at Edmund as she strode past—with trepidation, James thought she looked triumphant—and continued toward her litter.

Aslan followed her out. "She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood." Cheers rose from the company.

"How do I know your promise will be kept?" Jadis demanded. In reply, Aslan roared ferociously, and the witch fell into her seat in surprise. Everyone cheered and applauded. James fancied that her ice crown had melted a bit since her arrival.

However, even as he was congratulating the Pevensies with a grin and a thunderous purr that made it hard to speak, James noticed the sprite staring only at Aslan. He followed her gaze, and saw with great surprise that the great lion looked grieved and sad, rather than victorious, as he walked away.

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That night, however abuzz with thoughts his mind was, James managed to curl into a ball and doze off. He was awakened several times by the restless stirrings of the sprite on the opposite side of the tent, tossing and turning, unable to find rest. At last, in the middle of the night, his ear pricked at the sound of soft footsteps outside.

Amy sat bolt upright as a great shadow slid along the side of their tent. It was time. "James!" she hissed, jumping out of bed and grabbing her cloak and weapons. The mion followed suit, belting on his sword and following her out into the darkness. They spotted the form of Aslan climbing a hill into the trees. Two small, cloaked forms darted after him, keeping their distance and hiding in the shadows; Susan and Lucy were following him also. The strangers exchanged a glance and stalked after the others, into the woods.

Aslan walked through the trees, bathed in moonlight, head bowed, and his paws dragged slightly, as though a great weight pulled at them. Ames crept from shadow to shadow, the mion following silently. Only a few yards ahead, Susan and Lucy were doing the same, albeit much less silently.

At last Aslan paused—it was past midnight, by now—with a twitch of his ears, and without turning around, asked in soft rue, "Shouldn't you all be in bed?"

James and the sprite were the first to emerge. "We couldn't sleep," Norrington confessed.

Susan looked at them in surprise, having thought she and her sister had been the only ones. She shook this off, however, and turned back to Aslan, the four of them approaching him. "Please, Aslan...couldn't we come with you?"

"I would be glad of the company awhile," he murmured. "Thank you." And, with the girls twining their fingers in his mane, and the sprite and mion each laying a hand comfortingly on either of his sides, they set off once more. After what seemed like an eternity, and yet had only been a couple or minutes, or perhaps a couple of hours, the trees thinned, and a great hill with fires and stone structures was visible in the distance, beyond the edge of the wood. Here, Aslan turned to them. "It is time," he told them. "From here, I must go on alone."

"But Aslan—," Susan began.

"You have to trust me, for this must be done. Thank you Susan. Thank you Lucy. Thank you James. Thank you Amy," he said, meeting each of their gazes. "And Farewell." And so he left them.

James touched Amy's shoulder and nodded toward another path, overgrown and riddled with thorns. It would lead to the same place. They both knew it, though without knowing why. Susan and Lucy had made the same decision, and the four of them together followed it and found a place to hide behind an outcropping of rocks and bushes, with a perfect view.

Within said view was the hill, and atop that, many stone structures. The mount was swarming with all manner of ugly and disturbing creatures from the witch's army, though yet again they were a mere fraction of the entire company.

Aslan ascended the slabs of stone acting as steps toward the great Stone Table at the center of the commotion. The crowds parted before him in intimidation, though they called out insults nonetheless. However, the great lion was unfazed by all of this, and padded through them as if they weren't there. At last he faced the witch, who wore a slain pheasant over one shoulder, and stood waiting upon the Table. In her hands she held an ancient obsidian dagger, decorated with a crystal of lifeless and un-shimmering ice. "Behold," she mocked, "the Great Lion." The company laughed and jeered.

James looked at Amy apprehensively, but she was stone-faced and impossible to read as she watched the events unfolding.

The minotaur general approached with his axe and prodded the lion in the side with it. Aslan snarled quietly. At a nod from Jadis, the general bowled the great cat off his feet with the side of his axe. More cheers and insults filled the air.

"Why doesn't he fight back?" James whispered desperately. He could feel the panic rising in him, and it was enough to put a shake in his voice. "Why don't we?"

"We're outnumbered," the sprite murmured emotionlessly.

"Bind him!" Jadis ordered, and the creatures swarmed toward Aslan, even stepping on him, to bind his limbs and muzzle. "Wait." There was a sudden silence. "Let him first be shaved."

Cheering maliciously, the company drew their knives and sheared that great mane, that golden crown. Without it, Aslan seemed smaller and less formidable. "Why, he's just a big cat!" someone exclaimed.

"Bring him to me," the White Witch ordered when they had finished, and the lion was dragged unceremoniously up the steps to the Table. The cheering crescendoed until the not-Queen held out her hand for silence.

It was in this silence that tears began to prickle Amy's eyes, and James muttered to himself an inaudible plan of attack. "We can't, James," she whispered, and she sounded very, very tired. "We just can't."

At last Jadis stepped closer to Aslan and kneeled by his head. The vultures began the ceremony as old as Narnia, striking their staffs against the ground in a slow rhythm. The company began to cheer again, and roars and shrieks and cried of all kinds echoed through the valley beyond the hill. They joined in on the beat, stamping their feet and clapping and all manner of such actions in time with the beat.

"You know, Aslan," Jadis murmured softly, though Amy, James, Susan, and Lucy could hear her clearly over the crowd, "I'm a little disappointed in you. Did you honestly think by all this that you could save the human traitor?"

"What is she talking about?" James growled in frustration, lashing his tail and clutching so tightly at the boulder that hid them that his claws left scars in the stone.

"You are giving me your life," the witch went on, "and saving no one." She chuckled softly. "So much for love." And she rose, as did her voice as she addressed the company. "Tonight, the Deep Magic will be appeased. But tomorrow, we will take Narnia FOREVER!!" The cheers swelled, and the beating grew faster and faster. "In that knowledge, despair," she raised the dagger, "and DIE!" Aslan's gaze met with James' for an instant, before the blade plunged into its victim, and his great golden eyes closed and he breathed his last.

"No!" James cried, though no foe heard him. Beside him, Amy gasped, and he drew her into his embrace.

"The Great Cat is DEAD!" Jadis cried in triumph. The valley and forests thundered with the cheers of her army. "General, prepare your troops for battle—however short it may be."

"They cannot do this!" the mion cried, springing to his feet, drawing his blade, and surging into battle.

"No, James!" Amy pleaded desperately, no longer stoic as tears streamed down her face. "Aslan sacrificed himself for our sakes. All our sakes," she added with meaning. "Do not throw that away. Not now. Please, James!"

He rounded on her, and she was shocked at the fury in his eyes. "You knew this was going to happen!"

She choked on a sob. "We must protect canon. There was nothing we could have done otherwise." Shoulders shaking in fury and grief, not to mention the difficult task of self restraint, he sheathed his sword.

And so they waited, silently grieving, for the Witch and her army to leave. As soon as the fires had gone out and the coast was clear, the four witnesses climbed up to the Stone Table and sat beside Aslan's body. Lucy was beside herself with grief, and the three girls held back sobs as they looked upon him. The youngest Pevensie reached for the curing juice of the fireflower. "It's too late," Susan told her softly.

"He's gone," James added gently.

They gathered in silent grief around the Great Lion. Birds sang in the distance, and there was a very dim, grey light that told of dawn not far off. Amy wondered how the world could be so peaceful when such a thing had happened.

A sound reached their ears (and for the mion, a smell reached his nose), and they looked to see many, many mice climbing over Aslan's body. "Get away," Susan shooed them. "Get away, all of you."

"No," James murmured with a twitch of his whiskers, "Look."

They were chewing through the ropes that bound him, which were snapping loose between their teeth. And so, the four unbound him.

"We have to tell the others," Susan struggled to be sensible.

"We can't just leave him," Lucy protested.

"Lucy, there's no time. They need to know." There was a silence.

"I will go," said a soft voice, and Amy turned to see James, rising wearily from the stone. "My paws are swift and driven by grief. I shall get there in time, and I will be back," he promised.

"Be safe," the sprite bid him, and the girls echoed her.

With only a serious—though determined—nod, he dropped to all fours and streaked toward the camp.

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Peter strode out of the great red tent to face Oreius and Edmund. "He's right." James sat not far off, head bowed in grief and exhaustion. "He's gone."

"Then you'll have to lead us," Edmund told him. He looked like he was about to protest. "Peter, there's an army out there—it's ready to follow you."

"I can't," Peter insisted. "Oreius, can't you?"

"I take my orders from you, sire. I do not give orders to you."

"Mr. Norrington—"

James shook his head. "This is your battle, King Peter. Aslan believed in you, as does your army, and your brother. As do I." Peter looked more reassured now.

"The Witch's army is nearing, sire," Oreius announced gently, no longer able to wait. "What are your orders?"

The blonde looked resolutely at their battle plan—which included tactics from the war raging on in his own world—and made a decision. "You'll be with me, won't you?" he asked the mion.

"No. I must return and protect the girls. But I wish you luck."

"Thank you," he replied as James rose, extending his hand. Norrington grasped it in his paw and shook, before suddenly pulling the little king into a man-hug. "You remind me of my dad," Peter mumbled into his shoulder. "So much."

Taking a deep breath, James replied with a cracking voice, "Then as a father might say; You remind me of myself when I was young. You have a great journey before you, and you shall not perceive its ending until it has past." He turned to the younger of the two brothers and looked him square in the eye. "Edmund, I have an important job for you; keep an eye on your brother for me, will you?" The boy could only nod. "Then there is nothing more for me here. I must away to the girls. King Edmund. King Peter," he bowed respectively. "Good luck. And Godspeed." With that, he dropped to his paws and raced away.

Just before he was out of earshot, he heard Oreius mutter, "Who is God?" before launching into a conversation on tactics.

The question set his thoughts on a mutinous trail as he flew through the forest. The question is not 'who is God', he thought. The question is, 'where is God?' How could He have let this happen? However, his faith and logic won out, and as much as he wanted to bask in such dark thoughts, he had to admit that bad things happen, and that is a part of life. Besides, he recalled, everything happens for a reason.

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Susan, Lucy, and Amy, exhausted by their grief, had lain their heads on Aslan's body to rest. The sprite was awakened by the sounds of laboured breathing, and the sisters woke up as she darted to the top of the steps, sword drawn, to see who—or what—was there.

"James!" she cried, upon seeing the mion, thoroughly exhausted, struggling to drag himself up the hill. She sheathed her blade and descended to help him. "Are you all right?" she asked gently.

"No," he panted. "I am not. Of my fatigue, I shall recover in a few minutes. Of my grief, well." They slowly ascended the great stone slabs that served as steps to where Susan stood, watching with concern. "I'm fine," he assured her before she could ask. And with that, he staggered to the Stone Table to join Aslan once more.

It was well past dawn now, though the sky was overcast here, and the hill itself was freezing; the place where the Witch's power had extinguished the warmth of hope. At last, Amy, still beside herself, murmured to James, "If we could have stopped it...what would have changed? I mean...if someone could have stopped Jesus' crucifixion because they had known it would happen, would they have stopped it?" James looked at her sharply. This was the first reference to Christianity she had made since that trip in the winter, what seemed like ages ago.

He had no answer for her. Instead, he murmured, "We should go."

Lucy looked up for the first time. "I'm so cold." The Witch's power had taken a hold of them. Nonetheless, she began to walk away.

James briefly lay his paw on Aslan's shoulder and pushed his nose into the thicker fur where the mane had been. "Goodbye, my friend," he said calmly, before turning abruptly and striding away. Amy was startled by his stoicism. He had always been so open around her, but now he had retreated into his shell of poker-faced, unreadable, and emotionless.

With lingering glances over their shoulders, the four went away from that place. When at last their backs were turned, the wind began to howl, and there was a great cracking behind them that shook them to the ground. Whirling around, they saw that the Stone Table had broken, and Aslan's body was gone.

Rage flowed through James, and he clenched his jaws to suppress a furious snarl. "What have they done?" he cried at the same time that Lucy asked "Where's Aslan?" They stared in awe and wonder.

Their eyes were soon drawn to the great stone arch, where they could see the sun emerging from behind a cloud. This was not what their gazes were drawn to, however, but to a magnificent and familiar silhouette against its light. "Aslan!" they all exclaimed in joy, and skirted the split table to embrace him. He laughed gently, though enough to be heard over James' thunderous purr.

"But we saw the knife," the mion managed at last, in awe. "The witch."

"If the witch knew the true meaning of sacrifice, she might have interpreted the Deep Magic differently." Aslan replied, "That when a willing victim who has committed no treachery is killed in a traitor's stead, the Stone Table will crack," his voice echoed slightly off the stone, "and even death itself will turn backwards."

"We sent the news that you were dead," Susan told him.

"Peter and Edmund have gone to war," James confirmed.

"We have to help them," Lucy drew her dagger.

Aslan only chuckled. "We will, dear one. But not alone. Climb on my back," he said, crouching for them. "We have far to go, and little time to get there."

Feeling something powerful rising inside him, James was compelled to add, "And you may want to cover your ears," before he and Aslan let loose tremendous roars that echoed off the valley side.

And so they were off. James ran beside Aslan, all former exhaustion gone, only pure energy running through his limbs. Susan and Lucy rode upon the Great Lion's back. And Amy, she did something she had dreamed of but had never allowed herself to do until such a moment as this: she flew. As soon as she had mastered the movements, she was darting about in the air, twisting and turning and flipping and looping and doing barrel rolls—her face was that definition of joy. She would even add in a few bursts of colour or the images of water and waves rolling through the sky.

They descended into the valley, racing over the plains. Trees lined the fields on one side, a river on the other. Before them rose the snow-capped crags of the mountains. "Where are we going?" James asked with pricked ears and quivering whiskers. No one replied, although he was certain that the sprite that flew beside him knew the answer.

Their destination came into view just then, anyway; but instead of quenching his curiosity, it only made it stronger. The Witch's Castle. And Curiosity. The twin-peaked ice mountain rose stark amid a placid, glimmering lake—James fancied it might once have been frozen solid. In fact, it looked as though the castle itself were beginning to melt.

"Hang on," Aslan called to the girls, and doubled their pace.

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Norrington crept warily through the forest of stone figures. They all looked eerily realistic, and the place itself was so desolate that it was creepy. Amy led the way through the oddly posed figures, which seemed as though they had been frozen mid-action, threading her way until she came to the statue of a faun. Without thinking, she reached up and touched his cheek. "There is still hope for you," she whispered, suddenly looking very infatuated (James would have rolled his eyes had the situation been different).

"Oh no." She turned to face James. He was staring at something near the faun's hooves. "Look."

She bent down to see the fox, frozen in stone. "Jack."

The mion rounded on her. "You said he was alive!"

The sprite puffed up with indignation. "He was when I checked. Calm down, will ya? Everything will be okay."

"How?! He's dead."

"So was Aslan," she replied softly, though firmly, and that shut him up.

Lucy and Susan had come to these statues now, surrounded by the dripping ice and stone of the castle, and the younger began to cry at the sight of her friend. However, always calm, Aslan padded over to the statue and breathed on the faun, his breath stirring the stone curls of his hair.

Slowly, slowly, the grey of rock became colour, and a slow, deep heartbeat could be heard. At last, as stone turned to flesh, Mr. Tumnus gasped for breath and was alive. He stumbled forward, nearly collapsing, and was caught by an overjoyed Lucy. Their gazes met, and they begam to laugh with relief. "Susan, this is—"

"—Mr Tumnus!" the elder cried, flinging herself to hug him.

James was staring at them with eyes wide, ears sideways, and jaw on the floor. "'I walked in a valley of dead bones,'" he quoth breathlessly, "'and God put flesh on the bones and breathed the breath of life into them, and they were alive.'"

Tumnus suddenly looked up from the embrace, catching sight of the sprite. He shoved himself in front of the girls, crying, "Get behind me!" The air between the faun and the sprite crackled with tension as the former waited for the latter to attack. "You coward," he scorned, "stalking these Daughters of Eve like prey—awaiting the opportunity to make your kill!" That one really hurt—she'd thought she'd left all the prejudice behind her.

James surged forward, ears pinned, teeth bared, to her defense.

"Mr Tumnus, she won't hurt us," Lucy told him; but the faun's countenance did not waver.

Instead, he turned his head to look at her. "I've already put you in danger once. I won't let it happen again."

"They are in no danger," Norrington growled, tail lashing. "She has been working with Aslan and the army from the start, and has been ostracized instead of appreciated for her efforts. Be a little more grateful; she is part of the reason we are here to save you."

Tumnus, partly in awe of the mion and partly in actual realization, dropped his aggression immediately and stared at the sprite. "Then you are not a coward at all," he said sincerely, looking her square in the eye with obvious admiration. "In fact, I'd say you were very brave to have defied your people and taken a stand, even when others were resentful of you." He awkwardly put out his left hand (as he had only once before shaken hands) and she grasped it and gave it one of her firm, manly shakes (although now not so manly, but for the size of her hand). "I am sorry I treated you so unjustly," he said, holding her hand a moment longer with a direct look.

"Given the circumstances, I have to admit that I do understand, however much I would enjoy being angry." She suddenly squeaked as something cold and wet landed in her free hand. She looked down to see the fox that held a shard of Jack's being, red leather collar shining with wet. She chirruped with excitement (a sound that sprites apparently make) and scooped up the canine—which was half as big as she was—without difficulty, cuddling him and pressing her face into his orange fur. "Everything's all right now," she sighed before looking up to meet James' gaze, eyes flashing. "Mission accomplished."

"That's all very well, but..." He flicked his ears, casting about for the right words.

"Come," Aslan interrupted them, several Narnians stirring back to life around him. "We must hurry and search the castle. Peter will need everyone we can find."

The two girls, faun, mion, and sprite, all exchanged expressions before following him into the dripping, melting castle, Curiosity leashed and obediently trotting along beside them. "Is there any danger to him now that the worst is past?" Norrington was finally able to mutter to the sprite.

"I don't think so." She twitched her ears subtly. "Why?"

"I want to stay and help."

"I thought you didn't want to get involved with the war?"

"Amy, look me in the eye and tell me truthfully." They stopped while the rest of the group went on ahead. She looked up and evenly met his intense, icy green gaze. "This story runs parallel to the Bible, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then we must fight. Our faith means to fight sin every day. Isn't that what this whole war is about?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I know what you mean. I want to stay and fight, too."

He laid a paw on her shoulder, as though proud of her, and they set off after the others.

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He surprised her that afternoon, when he became a horse right in the middle of her shack. It must have been time, she supposed. He couldn't stay a man forever, after all. Still, it had scared the life out of her when the winds of transformation had blown through her home. He, on the other hand, seemed perfectly unconcerned, as though he knew this was natural for him even though he couldn't remember why he had to change. "Ya couldn' do dat ootside?" she scolded him, only half-serious. He took no notice of her, however. All sorts of smells and sounds were here that he hadn't been able to distinguish before as a man, and he proceeded to stick his nose into everything he could find.

But there was something odd about him now. His coat where it had been a dark bay, now had patches and areas where white fur flecked the brown, making a nice red roan in those places. She supposed the colour of his pelt was incomplete because he himself was incomplete. It was a curious thing, but she resolved not to be baffled by it, for her logic made sense.

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They hurried down the halls and up into the towers of the melting castle, searching every room, every stairwell, every cell in the dungeon, searching for stone prisoners. At last, with a large regiment of Narnians behind them that would add a third again to the army, they set off toward the battleground, where every Narnian heart—and even those not Narnian—could feel a battle ragin on. One that Narnia would win only with their help. That knowledge lent speed to their strides.

Soon—where soon may mean a manner of minutes or over an hour—a great precipice of rock and boulders came into sight, and from beyond it, the sounds of battle; the clang of swords, the yells and noises, the neigh of horses, and the cries of pain.

Aslan roared once as they approached, the sound echoing off the rocks in the ravine, and then a second time as he came to the top, to be seen by all, louder and more ferocious than anything one had ever heard or imagined.

Susan, Lucy, Amy, Tumnus, and James watched from atop a boulder as the White Witch, adorned with Aslan's shorn mane from before his death, a chain mail gown, and a golden headpiece resembling a dragon, was locked in battle with Peter. She looked up when Aslan roared, however, and even from their distance, the five could head her gasp, "Impossible!"

"Improbable!" Amy cried at the top of her lungs, with tears of triumph prickling her eyes as the fresh wave of soldiers streamed past them into battle.

"Come on," James urged her, clawing at the ground with the tip of his boot and gripping his sword impatiently.

Amy was about the agree then she felt a touch on her shoulder, and she turned to see Tumnus crouching beside her. "It would be an honour to fight beside you both."

"An honour that shall be granted you," she replied eagerly (before noting how Narnian speech had rubbed off on her), and the three of them launched themselves into battle. Tumnus, having no weapon, was able to salvage a spear from a fallen faun, after tackling a hag and a minoboar. And so, the three of them fought, though aiming only to wound, for they knew themselves that the battle was already won.

And so it was; for moments later, it was declared that the Witch was dead, slain by Aslan himself, and all fighting ceased. The three stood and conversed, whilst Aslan and Lucy went about the battlefield with the breath of life and the healing juice of the fireflower.

Amy found that she liked the James McAvoy Tumnus much better than the book character. In fact, in the novel, she had only ever seen him as a whiny, snobby, weak person. But here, he was so easily likeable, and, more importantly, real (not to mention brave and kind of cute. Okay, more than 'kind of').

A great feast awaited the troops that evening, held in celebration of their great victory. Seated between the mion and the faun, Ames eagerly tucked in, ignorant of manners (miffing proper James), though never rude. It was announced that the coronation would be held in two days. ("So soon," Ellie had remarked), in the halls of the castle Cair Paravel.

"Will another few days hurt us?" the mion muttered to the sprite. "Time-wise, I mean."

She shrugged. "I don't think so."

After supper, there was music and dance. Amy started out performing on flute with the band, and soon had the crowd in action with 'Meryton Townhall' (Pride and Prejudice). However, James Norrington sawr this as the perfect opportunity to teach her how to dance. He began by attempting to teach her a simple waltz, but their difference in height made things difficult. She found it much easier to learn the step-dance-like footwork of a faun celebration dance from Mr. Tumnus, which required no partners, but made an attractive picturesque with the faun dancing on one side of her and the mion joining in on the other, light on his feet as though he already knew the style of dance. (However, he is Scottish, not Irish, and such a fact confused the sprite.)

Amy later found herself dancing with Mr. Beaver (at last, someone as clumsy at dancing as she!), and then a very enthusiastic badger whose mate grew more jealous with each twirl and spin. She ended the night, however, doing a slow dance with Curiosity, placing his paws on her shoulders the way one would with a pet dog. The fox licked her face and grinned in the way that domestic foxes do, and the celebrations ended with the soft melodies of Narnian lullabies (played exquisitely by Mr Tumnus) accompanying everyone to their tents and leading them to a content and well-deserved slumber.

Two days later, everyone had gathered in the halls of Cair Paravel by the Great Sea. The white marble and stone were beautiful, and Amy couldn't help but to admire the architecture of the place. She had never been inside a castle before—the closest she had ever come was an historic college in her hometown.

Centaurs lined the aisle, flags and spears presented, and behind and around them, the rest of the company. A fanfare announced the beginning of the ceremony, and Edmund, Peter, Aslan, Susan, and Lucy, all adorned like royalty but for the lion, who was royalty enough by appearance alone, processed down the aisle, toward the four thrones. The two beavers followed, bearing the crowns on maroon cushions lined with gold, and behind them, Tumnus and James.

The Pevensies went to their thrones and stood, facing the audience, while Aslan turned and addressed the company. "To the glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Lucy, the Valiant." Tumnus took up the small crown and carefully, gently, placed it on the young girl's head. "To the great Western Wood, King Edmund, the Just." This one the mion crowned, bowing as the young king rose from his kneeling. They exchanged a small smile, before the coronation continued. "To the radiant Southern Sun, Queen Susan, the Gentle." Tumnus stooped to pick up the fragile-looking crown adorned with yellow-gold daffodils, and Susan curtseyed to receive it. And finally, "And to the clear Northern Sky, I give you King Peter, the Magnificent." James, praying that he would not mess up now of all times, placed the golden crown on the High King, and bowed away. He and Tumnus retreated to opposite ends of the terrace and bowed low, as Aslan turned to the newly-anointed royalty. "Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens."

Then came the 'all hails' and much cheering. "Long live King Peter! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Susan! Long live Queen Lucy!" And thus was the ceremony over, to be followed by a feast even greater than that which had followed their victory over the Witch.

James approached Amy in the crowded and musical hall, and after conversing for a few moments, they went to join Lucy and Tumnus on a balcony overlooking the Sea as they watched Aslan padding away along the lapping waves, not to be seen again for some time. "So Aslan leaves, so must we also," the sprite murmured as she gazed at the great lion.

Tumnus turned to her in surprise. "So soon?"

"Our purpose here is finished, and the prophecy is fulfilled," James replied. "We've done what we came to do, and more."

"We'll miss you," Lucy said tearily, and James, beaten into submission by a cuteness factor, hugged her quickly before she scampered away to find her siblings.

Amy herself was drawn into a hug by the faun. "The prophecy has been fulfilled," she repeated softly. There was a flash of light and the ground shifted beneath her boots; suddenly Mr Tumnus didn't seem so big. In fact, he was nearly at eye level with her, and his expression of shock mirrored her own. She looked down at herself, and saw that she was again human, brown haired and un-pointy-eared.

She looked over at James to see that he, too, was human, and looking very confused as he felt at his beard. They stared at one another for a few moments, as though they had forgotten what the other looked like. "What's happening?" the former-mion asked, almost with concern. "Why are we like this now?"

"I-I think it's because of the prophecy. Now that it's come to pass, there can be other humans here, which includes us."

At the enquiring look from the faun, Ames launched into a brief, though detailed, explanation—for it made sense about there being more than one world here in this Realm. When she had finished, she nudged James and said, "Come on, we should say goodbye to Peter and them." She led the way back into the great hall, the other two following, and began to navigate her way through the crowd.

The creatures parted around them, and they could feel the stares prickling their skin, and the hushed exclamations of surprise and recognition. "Can that be the very sprite we distrusted? Here she was a Daughter of Eve all along."

"And see the way her companion carries himself—surely he is the mion!"

"Do you see anybody?" Ames murmured to James.

"No, I—"

"Father!" they heard Edmund cry, and he broke through the crowd, followed closely by Peter, Susan, and Lucy as they all hurled themselves at Norrington. "You came to find us!"

"I knew you seemed familiar, but I never thought—" Peter.

"I can't believe you've come back—" Susan.

"You grew a beard—" This from Lucy.

The four continued talking all at once, and so their silence was sharply felt when James abruptly pulled away from them, backing away another few paces for good measure. "No," he said breathlessly, looking around at them like a cornered animal. Was that fear? "I'm not—I mean I acted as though I was, but I'm not—," his voice was shaking, as though a common case of mistaken identity had shaken him to the core.

"Father," Lucy stepped closer—and he backed another pace away—, "what are you—?"

"Weren't you listening?" he snapped, beginning to lose composure. "I am not now, nor have I even been your father—Amy, get me out of here," he pleaded desperately.

She only nodded, placing her pinkies in her mouth and whistling. Curiosity came bounding toward her, and she picked him up. "I'm terribly sorry for the misunderstanding," she said to the Pevensies with a look that said she was as confused as they were. "It's been a blessing getting to know you and fight by your side, but," she spared a sympathetic look at James, who was staring at the ground, trying to detach himself from the situation her, and looking very troubled, "we really should be going." She walked over to the armoured figure and slid her hand into his.

He looked at her, blinking in confusion and frustration. "I'm not, right?" he mumbled. "I can't be."

She cupped his cheek, but didn't answer, instead turning back to the four. "Thanks for everything, and farewell." With that, much to the surprise of those crowded around to see, the two—and their fox—disappeared in a whirlwind of turquoise, where the magicker had learned to change the colour of her teleporting mist.


All right, I know that's not the greatest place to end the chapter. It was originally longer, but I decided it was best to split things us a bit. That being said, the next chapter, though short, is finished, and the chapter after that has already fifteen pages written.

Please give me the courtesy of leaving a review—criticism, praise, anything but flames. Thank you.