AN: First off, I meant to have this chapter finished/posted yesterday but I'm going through a rough time right now and last night was, without getting into many personal details (let's not turn this into an episode of Doctor Phil, okay? LOL...hey, my weird sense of humour's coming back-that's great!), really, really a hard evening for me and-in short-I was way too much of an emotional trainwreck to do any editing to get this ready. Now I am feeling a little better, but I am very tired so if there's a mistake and/or typo I missed when cleaning this up for posting, I apologize in advance. Second, I know this is mostly dilogue and on the short side, but I needed to write it that way to set up what's upcoming over the next chapter or so.
"No, absolutely not," said Susan, turning away from Edmund and glancing into the mirror, working a brush through her hair. "I'm not doing that."
"But, Susan, you have to," he insisted, reaching over, grabbing her arm, and spinning her back around so that she faced him again.
Maugrim's lips curled up into a half-sneer, half-snarl, and he looked threateningly at Ella, who was currently perched on one of the bedposts on the other side of the room.
"Oh, come on," grunted the wolf-dæmon, regaining composure and swallowing back the dozen or so sarcastic things he was aching to say, willing himself to be reasonable, even kindly, "this isn't your war. What happens on the throne of Svalbard is nothing to do with us."
"We should listen to him." Susan tilted her head, gesturing in her dæmon's direction.
"Don't you understand?" Edmund said, not paying Maugrim any mind. "You could convince Ragnar to give Iorek a chance at gaining back the throne. We would cut off one of the Ruling Power's sources completely! If Iorek were king, he would never side with them or take their bribes."
Susan put down the hairbrush noisily on the stand beside the mirror and walked over to the door leading into the hallway. Sticking her head out, she called, "Peter, come in here! Edmund's drunk!"
"I am not!" her brother hissed, grabbing her arm again, squeezing a little harder this time. "And I'll thank you not to announce my presence here to the entire college."
She rolled her eyes. "Edmund, don't be absurd; most of the scholars are either at their lessons or in the library two floors down studying. Aside from Peter, and perhaps the Master, we're the only two in this part of the college at this hour." Wrenching herself free from him, she huffily added, "Honestly, Ed! You're in a queer mood today."
"Susan, will you at least hear me out?"
"Look," she said, trying-somewhat vainly-to force the terseness out of her voice, "you're my brother and I love you; but this plan of yours! Why would the king of Svalbard listen to me? He doesn't even know me."
"He liked our mother; you're her only daughter. Tell him that and see if he doesn't listen."
Susan looked utterly disgusted. "I am nothing like Mother, and you know that."
"Yes," said Edmund, with surprising patience. "But Ragnar doesn't."
"Susan, were you calling me?" Peter entered the room, a little breathlessly, thinking there might be some emergency.
"Edmund has the most absurd idea," she announced.
Maugrim snorted. "I still think he's drunk."
Ella swooped down over the wolf's head, making him duck. Doe, on a chair, watching this, let out a pitiful cry, mostly because she was cranky at being woken up by the scary 'animals' and their quarrel.
"Peter, tell her this could work!" Edmund begged, looking over at his brother-in-law pleadingly.
"What is it?" Peter wanted to know, frowning in confusion.
"He wants me to pretend," explained Susan in a breathless, appalled tone of voice, "that I'm an alethiometrist-which is only the start of what's faulty here, as I know nothing whatever about alethiometristing."
"Erm, it's alethiometry," Edmund cough-corrected her.
She ignored him and went on, "And he wants me to claim to the king of Svalbard that I've preformed experiments with Dust and can give him a dæmon if he beats Iorek Byrnison in single combat! Edmund is mad, Peter, out of his head!"
"Peter," Edmund protested, desperately, "I can tell her everything she needs to know about being an alethiometrist, enough to convince King Ragnar she's genuine-"
"But she's not," growled Maugrim, cutting in.
"I even have a sort of idea that we can convince him either Lucy or Lyra is a dæmon, just as Lyra convinced Miraz. All we would have to do is find some way of hiding either Reep or Pan. Pantalaimon might be easier, if we can disguise him as part of Lyra's fur coat or something…I've thought and thought about this!"
"I think this is all moonshine," declared Susan, tossing her head back primly. "It's a foolish plan to accomplish something just as foolish. I'm sorry about Iorek, really I am, I've nothing against him; but if you think I'm going to endanger myself and others, Edmund," –here she paused and gave her brother a hard glare; "you're dead wrong."
Peter, less sure, less adamant, but just as cautious, said, "Ed, it does sound risky. Susan's right, if Ragnar won and she couldn't give him what she promised, there's no telling what he would do to her."
"Mother never gave him anything she promised him," he pointed out.
"So Mrs. Coulter kept the bear on his toes," sighed Peter; "that won't help Susan if she can't prove herself to him…no, it's out of our hands, I'm sorry."
"You don't understand, the bears side with the Ruling Powers, they might destroy us. Think about Lucy and Lyra, Pete, really think about them; if the Ruling Powers tell Ragnar they want them killed…he'd do it in a heartbeat, or send someone to do it, more likely. This is a political matter, just like with the priest. There may be some cold blood involved, but it's something we have to do. Susan is the only one of us who there's any chance of him listening to."
Peter's face drained of colour entirely, all except for his cheeks, which speedily flushed. He looked as if someone had reached over and smacked him hard across the face, dumped a bucket of cold water over his head, then left him out in the damp air for an hour. He simply couldn't abide the thought of Lucy and Lyra coming to harm; it was too painful.
"If I fail…" began Susan.
"You'll learn from the best, Su," Edmund said, forcing a proud smile. "I can teach you everything you need to know about pretending to read the alethiometer. I can tell you what to say; it would be like play-acting, nothing more."
"Susan, I think we should-maybe…" Peter was beginning to give in, and fast.
"Peter, please!"
"Edmund would do it," he pointed out, a mite too harshly. "If Ed had any chance of being listened to, he'd do it. He would put Iorek back on the throne and save us. You're our only chance."
Maugrim gritted his teeth. "This will not end well, mark my words."
Susan sighed, dejectedly. "If you will have it so, Peter-and you, too, Edmund-let's take the adventure that will befall us. I wish I could say, as far as I can be concerned, I wash my hands clean of the effect this venture will surely bring about, but I cannot. We're in this together."
"You'll do it," her brother double checked; "you will go to Svalbard and speak to Ragnar?"
"Yes," she said, her voice barely a whisper now, cracking a little from fear, "I'll do it."
Unexpectedly, but with the most tender endearment, Edmund threw his arms around his elder sister, blinking away tears she only just then realized he'd been fighting. "Oh, thank you, Susan!"
Pulling away from her brother's embrace, she added, "But do let's think this all the way through. First up: what about our fake dæmon? Do we use Lyra or Lucy?"
"Lyra has already pretended to be a dæmon once," said Peter, secretly feeling ashamed because he knew deep down that he was volunteering Lyra right off mainly to keep Lucy out of danger if he could, and he knew it was his old favoritism pricking at him rather selfishly when he ought to be looking out for the common good of everybody involved. "She knows how," he added lamely. "And there's what Edmund was just saying about Pan; he's just the right colour to slink between the collar of a pale fur coat and not be noticed."
"Supposing Ragnar has met Lord Asriel before," Maugrim said suddenly.
Peter and Edmund and Ella turned to stare at the wolf uncomprehendingly; they didn't see how Lord Asriel, and whether or not he and the usurper of Svalbard had met previously, had anything to do with what they were planning.
"No, it's no good," said Susan, understanding. "Maugrim's right, don't you see? If Ragnar's met Asriel, he may recognize the man's features in Lyra and there goes any hope for pretending she's a dæmon. I don't think Miraz met-or would remember, even if he did-Lord Asriel; so Lyra was more secure in that instance. But Ragnar might recognize her father's features in her and see our bluff."
"Oh, don't be silly," Peter retorted. "That's going a bit far. I don't see…"
"Lyra does look a bit like Lord Asriel," said Edmund, miserable, not having thought of that before. "That's right, Su." That was why, after all, Mrs. Coulter had so readily given up her younger daughter; if she could have passed it for the child of herself and Edmund Coulter, what harm would there have been in keeping the infant?
"We'll have to use Lucy, then," Susan said practically.
Peter winced. "What's the point of that? She's Lord Asriel's daughter, too. We might use, if Rhince would allow it, Gael."
"Not Gael," said Edmund darkly, lowering his brow in a 'end of discussion' kind of way. "Rhince would never agree to it; and neither would I. She's too young. She is living at the college for protection. She's no threat to anyone, and there's no reason to drag her into this."
Susan reached for her husband's hand and squeezed it. "I know it's hard for you, Peter, but it must be Lucy-just as it has to be me who speaks to Ragnar in the first place. It's the only way."
"She looks," Edmund grimly admited, "much less like Lord Asriel than her half sister does. Farder Coram says she takes after her mother's side."
It was true, actually. In Lyra, the sharp features of Lord Asriel were present so that one knew they were related almost instantly; they were not humbled in Lyra, nor kindlier, exactly, but there was something more likeable about them on her-yet, all the same, it was clear where she had gotten them from. Whereas, in Lucy, it was different; if she bore any resemblance at all to Lord Asriel, it wasn't obvious and had to be looked for and pinned down after much forethought.
"What about Reepicheep?" Peter asked, lifting Doe off of a chair, sitting down, then placing her in his lap, stroking her ears pensively. "Ragnar can't see that she has a dæmon."
"It's a shame Reep can't shift anymore," Ella put in.
"He doesn't need to, not really. If we found some sort of bag with a strap Lucy could wear over her coat and have Reepicheep curl up in there as tight as possible…" Edmund suggested.
Peter stopped petting the cat and looked up at his brother-in-law incredulously. "How do you expect him to breathe? I won't have Lucy hurt through her dæmon during all this."
"No worries there," Edmund assured him, glancing back at him with an explanatory facial expression; Ella twisted her beak. "You don't know what it's really like to have a dæmon. If Reep feels cramped or uncomfortable, so will Lucy. If he was the sort who took to being claustrophobic easily, I would worry then because she would start randomly hyperventilating from sensing his fear. But breathing itself shouldn't be a problem in the least; Reep can breathe through Lucy if he concentrates, which is just as well because in that case he's less likely to make any noises and give himself away."
"But who's dæmon will we say Lucy is?" Susan wondered aloud.
"Iorek's," said Edmund, firmly and without hesitation. "Definitely use that. What Lyra did, saying she was Peter's dæmon, was just about right. She made it sound as if someone Miraz considered a nobody had received a privilege denied to him. King Ragnar must hate Iorek, as he's the real king. Let him think Susan went ahead and experimented on Iorek because he was the only bear not on Svalbard, but that, really, she would have preferred to give Lucy to him instead." He turned to his sister. "Flattery, Su, you'll have to give him as much flattery as he swallows. Say you admire him."
"We think he's horrid," Maugrim barked.
"Well, don't let him know that or we're done for." Edmund rolled his eyes.
"You mean I'm to act as if I were my mother's daughter?" Susan was, evidentially, sickened by the very idea, and scrunched up her nose in disgust.
"As much like her as possible," her brother huffed impatiently. "We've established this already!"
"What if Ragnar, upon Susan announcing that Lucy is the dæmon of his hated enemy, decides to listen no further and attempts to kill her at once to rid himself of Iorek?" Peter shuddered at the thought of his baby sister being torn to pieces by an enormous ice bear.
"Susan will have to step in and shout it if need arises," Edmund said fiercely. "And if that doesn't work, I'll fling myself in front of Lucy and have the bear king kill her only over my dead body."
An hour later, their plans were all but set in stone.
"We're in this together; all three of us, and Lucy." Peter swallowed the lump forming in his throat and suppressed an extra shudder. "Let's all shake hands and finalize this plan. If we make it, we will have brought about the beginning of the end in a way even our battle at Bolvangar might be dwarfed by. If not, we can only hope that we will meet that Lion-Aslan-again; and that he rescues us from Ragnar just as he did Susan and Christian from Lord Asriel the last time we were in this world."
Or, like, Edmund thought to himself, how he saved me on the ice bridge so that I could live on, grow up, and become an alethiometrist; all of which, have led me here.
AN: Please review.
