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Disclaimer: I don't claim C.S. Lewis or Machiavelli. But I do claim Edmund. ^_^
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The Lion and the Fox
Chapter Thirty-Six: Fox's Reparations
Aslan's Camp, after the fall of the White Witch
"Since a prince must know how to make good use of the beast [in his own personality], he should choose then the fox and the lion [as his representations]; for the lion has no protection from traps, and the fox is defenseless against wolves. It is necessary, therefore, to be a fox in order to know the traps, and a lion to frighten the wolves. –Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince chapter XVIII 'How a Prince Should Keep His Word'"
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For the rest of the day, Edmund spends much of his time shadowing Oreius as he goes about the army, and since Peter seems unwilling to let him out of his sight for more than five minutes at a time, his older brother is often with him. He knows at one point this would have seemed a great inconvenience, but now he considers it an honor—if a trifle stifling.
The first night is quiet, spent mourning those who couldn't be saved, and planning ways to flush out the remaining Fell. Edmund and Peter remain in Aslan's tent until the stars are bright in the sky.
"For Emperor's sake," Peter snaps, "we ought to track them down before we do anything else. They'll just get farther away and stronger with time."
Oreius shakes his head. "While I agree that dealing with the Fell remnants is important, Your Majesty, might I remind you that you and your family have not yet technically been crowned Kings and Queens of Narnia? Your powers have been granted to you in a state of emergency, but with the Witch gone—"
"—With the Witch gone, we need a legitimate coronation so that we can be accepted." Edmund pushes little figures across the map of Narnia without any direct intent, yet they all seem to cluster by Cair Paravel. "Otherwise, we're no better than dictators. Usurpers."
"Like she was." Peter sighs. "Fine. But I don't like it. And I don't like not knowing where her wand has gone. Honestly, how can we have misplaced it?"
"I believe we didn't, King Peter, and that after the battle, it was taken before we thought to look for it." Oreius grimaces. "A mistake I take responsibility for. I should have thought of it more promptly, given the circumstances of my own temporary end."
"You thought of your troops first, General. No one faults you for that." Peter rubs his eyes.
"We have the Stone Knife, though, so that's something," Edmund reminds him. He shifts slightly to feel the hidden sheath of a second knife beneath his tunic: Ginarrbrik's. That weapon he'll deal with on his own.
"We can have that locked away in a storage room somewhere," Peter agrees. He turns to Oreius. "We do have storage rooms in Cair Paravel?"
"It is my understanding that there is every type of room you could imagine needing, Richard's Son," the Centaur answers dryly, "but you would do better to get a report from the Narnians who went ahead to clean up at least part of the Cair for your coronation."
"So we are staying! I told you, Susan!"
Edmund smirks down at the map as Peter wheels around to face the entrance to the tent.
"Lucy?"
There's a pause, then a low, "Oh dear," and Lucy is prodded sheepishly into the tent by a disapproving Susan.
"We were only coming to see if you were going to sleep any time soon," his older sister says stiffly, "because we're getting up rather early tomorrow."
"And then we heard you talking and it was all so exciting, but Susan said we weren't staying, that we have to get home, and I was telling her we can't just leave, and then you said…" Lucy trails off. She finds Edmund's eyes. "We are staying, aren't we, Edmund?"
He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.
How could he have forgotten about going home? He'd gotten all caught up in plans for when he was a king, for that fluttering hope that the Narnians would accept him as a king, and England had sort of just faded away. But there was Mum, and Dad, and even the Professor had probably noticed they were gone now. The Macready would be furious.
Peter pales. "I…" He glances at Oreius for help, but the Centaur's face remains impassive. It seems everyone is holding their breath.
"Would you leave Narnia in her time of need, Daughter of Eve?"
Aslan rises from where he has lain on a pile of blankets, listening to them talk and occasionally offering advice.
Susan straightens. "No, Sir," she answers, jaw set, and Edmund can't help but admire her bravery in standing up to the Lion. "But the battle is won. The Witch is gone. And we really ought to be getting home."
"Do you truly believe there is nothing left for you to do in Narnia?"
She bites her lip. Lucy looks up at her, wide-eyed. "No, of course not. But I do think we have a responsibility to our parents, you know, and the Professor. We're just children!"
Edmund blinks. He looks down at his hands, already callousing from his sword, and he shifts in place, feeling the responding ache in his legs as his muscles stretch. He has grown to reach Susan's shoulder since they've come here, and his body doesn't seem to quite know what to make of that speedy development. He thinks of being imprisoned, of watching others suffer, of the love he feels for his family and friends here.
He doesn't feel like a child.
"Susan Pevensie," Aslan says sternly. You are not 'just' a child. And you will make a wonderful Queen."
Susan flushes, twisting her fingers together. "It's not that—well it is that, thank you, Aslan—but it's also our Mum and Dad—"
"—Who will be waiting when you return. There are many worlds in My Father's kingdom, and Narnia is but one. Yours is but another. Will you trust Me, Daughter of Eve?"
Lucy takes her hand and squeezes. Susan closes her eyes, face softening. "Yes," she says, "yes, I can do that."
Aslan pads forward and brushes the lightest of kisses on her forehead. "Be at peace," he says, and just like that, they are. They trust Him.
Lucy bounces a bit. "Are you lot done, then? Only I thought I might borrow Edmund."
He feels his eyebrows rise. "Borrow me, Lu?"
She nods. "We have an appointment." She twists her lips, fighting a smile.
"We…do?"
"Mhm." She holds out a hand, and really, how can he say no?
"I'll meet you back at our tent, Peter," he says helplessly. "Goodnight, General. Aslan." He bows and allows Lucy to drag him into the night.
As they slip out of the camp and into the woods, Lucy's hand is warm in his. Even under the trees, the moonlight is bright enough to see by, and he studies her face, her happiness and calm. He doesn't ask where they're going, because as soon as they begin pushing past broken twigs and trampled leaves, he knows.
The hairs on the back of his neck rise up for an entirely unrelated reason. He clenches Lucy's hand and picks up the pace. "Don't look around," he breathes, "but we're being followed."
Lucy nods. "It's our guard," she murmurs, "but they'll stay back."
"Guard?"
"They've learned we tend to wander off, I think."
"I'll say. Who followed Aslan for miles through the woods, hm?"
"Who ran off by himself through the forest while the Witch was in our camp, hmm?"
"Fair point, that."
They come upon the clearing suddenly, washed out and white in the night glow. Edmund picks out the three rustling, familiar Trees across the patch of grass and as he watches, the Hamadryads emerge from the trunks.
Acer and Quercus cross the clearing to greet them, while Pinoidae lingers by her roots.
"Good evening, Your Majesties." Acer curtsies. "We are glad to find you so well."
"And grateful for what you've done, ridding Narnia of the Witch."
"And the Dwarf."
Edmund bows. "Good evening to you as well, ladies. At risk of sounding rude, I would like to point out that Aslan was the one to kill the Witch, and it was Susan who shot Ginarrbrik—"
Lucy shoves him.
"—And I am happy you are here and hale." He hesitates, then, "Lady Pinoidae…?"
"Has recovered enough to manifest outside of her tree, but not to stray far." Quercus extends a hand. "Will you go to her?"
He swallows hard. "It would be an honor."
Edmund walks to the pine tree, Lucy and the Hamadryads following behind. Upon reaching the Pine spirit, he bows a second time. "Lady Pinoidae."
She bobs her head. "'Just' Edmund."
He smiles. "You look…better." He can't lie, much as he would like to. Her hair hangs limply about her face and pine needle patterns flicker beneath her skin. It is a struggle for her to take on a human form. She does not look well. But compared to before, she does look better.
The Hamadryad smiles thinly, as if sensing his thoughts. "I feel…better." She reaches for his hands and he lets her take them. Her skin is cool. "We could not see the battle from this distance, and no one came with news for a long while. We were afraid…I was afraid…"
He ducks his head, then gives her a wry half-smile. "It was a bit irresponsible for me to go off and get re-injured when you worked so hard to heal me, wasn't it?"
She laughs, though her face creases with pain. He rushes to apologize, but she shakes her head. "I would talk with you all night, 'just' Edmund, but I hear you are leaving for Cair Paravel in the morning, and you need to rest. I sent Quercus to Queen Lucy, asking her to bring you, as I will not be able to travel for some time. I wanted to say goodbye."
Edmund's chest tightens. "Only for a little while, though," he say. "I would like to see you again. Perhaps you and your sisters could visit when you are well. Or I could come see you." He flushes. "I wouldn't like to lose a friend to distance, my lady."
She beams. "Nor I."
He grins. "It's settled, then." Reluctantly, he pulls his hands from hers. "Lady Pinoidae…" He presses a hand to his side, where Ginarrbrik's blade rests. This had seemed such a sound idea back at Aslan's camp, but here, facing her, he thinks it might be the height of rudeness.
"Ask of me what you will, 'just' Edmund."
"Edmund, please," he corrects unthinkingly.
She doesn't reply, only waits. He grits his teeth. "My lady—"
"Pinoidae, please," she echoes gently, and he feels his shoulders relax.
"Pinoidae. I would ask of you a favor." He runs a hand through his hair, hesitating.
"Ask, Edmund. Or you can receive no answer."
He reaches underneath his tunic and withdraws the familiar blade. Its handle glimmers, and Pinoidae draws back with a gasp. He stuffs it under his clothes again immediately. "Forget it," he mutters, "I'm sorry."
"You want me to keep it."
The wind rustles around the clearing. Slowly, Edmund nods. "I want you to break it. Then I'd like to bury the pieces here where they can be guarded. Where no one can find them. I don't think anyone will go after Ginarrbrik's weapon, but it's an evil thing even still and I want it gone."
"You could have a smith melt it down in his forge."
"And have the metal reshaped into another weapon that remembers its old sins? I don't trust it."
"No," Pinoidae murmurs, "perhaps not."
She stands still and silent for so long that she nearly fades back into her tree. An owl hoots. At last she gestures behind him. "Sisters."
Acer and Quercus step past him and into their trees. Together the three Hamadryads bend their branches towards him. Edmund places the sheathed blade in the tangle of twigs and steps back. With a sudden twist of wood, the blade snaps. When the branches pull back, metal pieces rain on the grass. Edmund drops to his knees, reaching for them.
"Stay back!"
He recoils as the ground shifts, splitting open. The shards of the Dwarf's knife tumble into the dirt and are soon covered up. In a matter of moments, grass sprouts on the empty patch and covers the spot, leaving no trace. He sits back, a weight shifting off his shoulders. It's gone.
Pinoidae leaves her tree and kneels in front of him. There is more color in her cheeks than before, as if she too feels the absence of the weapon. "Edmund?"
He takes her hand and brings it to his lips, as he's seen Peter do with Narnian females a few times now. Pinoidae smiles and touches his cheek. Her eyes are a deep green, and steady.
"Go receive your crown, Edmund. I'll see you in time."
He stands, bowing to all three Hamadryads. Then he turns to face Lucy and his guards at the edge of the woods. He freezes as their shapes become clear.
One is a Fox with a slyly familiar look. The other is a Lionness with unique black markings around her eyes like spectacles, and a darker patch of fur above her upper lip that looks like a faded moustache. Lucy stands easily between them.
"Edmund," she says by way of introduction, "this is Savio. He helped us escape the Wolves when we were at the Beavers'. And this is Reina. She was a statue in the Witch's castle, but Aslan freed her."
He doesn't trust himself to speak. A thousand apologies shift through his head. Where to begin, where to begin? How many times will he plead forgiveness for the crimes he has committed here? What a fool he was to think he could be a king!
"Pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty," Reina says shyly. She blinks, her spectacle markings twitching. "It's a great honor to see you, Sir. I couldn't have, before now."
"You mean while you were a statue?" he asks in spite of himself.
"No, King Edmund, I mean ever. I was born blind. I'm afraid the Witch found me a very easy target. But when I awoke, I could see! Aslan told me the new marks around my eyes had fixed my vision." She looks around the clearing, smiling. "I wouldn't have known they were new, to be honest, never having seen myself before. And I'm not complaining."
Edmund laughs in disbelief. "I'm glad, then, my lady, to be able to see you as well."
On Lucy's other side, Savio clears his throat. He gives Edmund a look that means he knows exactly how those markings got around Reina's eyes and isn't terribly impressed, but that the whole situation's rather amusing, so he'll let it go. Edmund inclines his head to the Fox.
"We meet again, Your Majesty," Savio says.
Lucy stares between them. "You've met before?"
"Under adverse circumstances, I'm afraid. But that has passed."
"Your brother," Edmund blurts, "is he all right?"
The Fox swishes his tail. "He is at home with his family, King Edmund, thank you."
As they head back through the woods, Savio brushes against his leg. "You have a standing invitation to come visit, by the way," he informs him. "It would be rude to say no."
Edmund gapes. "I haven't said anything yet!"
The Fox bares his teeth in a grin. "Good."
When the reenter the camp, they find Peter and Susan sitting up with the Beavers and a pair of Badgers, recounting old tales. Mr. Beaver is concluding a story that sounds, to Edmund, to have something to do with copious amounts of ale and his bachelor days. Susan looks scandalized, even from a distance.
Edmund stops before reaching the group and turns to Lucy. "I never said," he begins haltingly, "Lu, I'm sorry, I really am. I was terrible to you. I…"
Lucy puts out a hand, stopping him. "We're fine, Edmund, I promise. I mean…" she sweeps her arms out to encompass all of Narnia. "You believe me now."
He chuckles. "I'll never doubt you again. But, Lu, even before Narnia I was—"
"You were awful, yes." Lucy frowns. "But you were also awfully angry. And you're not anymore. So…" she smiles mischievously. "I guess it's just a way to get you to do what I want, isn't it?"
He blinks. "You wouldn't."
"Why did you name my doll Miss Pennyfather, Edmund?"
"Lucy—!"
He chases into the firelight. She hides behind Peter, giggling, and he glowers. "Cheater."
Susan stands, thanking the Beavers and their friends for the stories. "We really should be going to bed."
"Early start for you lot, tomorrow, innit?" Mr. Beaver chortles.
"Aren't you coming with us?" Edmund asks in surprise.
"We'll meet you there, dears," Mrs. Beavers assures him, "we're just taking a shortcut."
"Have ourselves a lovely swim, eh, Missus?" Mr. Beaver nudges his wife, who swats at him.
Over a chorus of goodnights, Edmund hugs Susan and Lucy and follows Peter to their tent. They change in contented silence.
Peter shoves his pallet next to Edmund's without asking, and Edmund doesn't see the need to protest. He crawls into bed, wriggling around to get comfortable. Peter blows out the lone candle lighting the space. His mattress crackles as he flops onto it.
Pulling the covers up to his chin, Edmund stares into the darkness. The day begins to creep back to him in flashes of blood and terror, of cold like ice.
"All right then, Eddy?"
He closes his eyes and lets go.
"M'fine, Pete. Thanks."
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Please review!
Ok, I'm thinking 3, possibly 4 more chapters MAXIMUM. So follow me if you haven't already, because there'll be follow-up one-shots. Gettin' this done before England what whaaaat.
(At which point I'll have to read LWW again because it's on the syllabus for my 'Fantasies of Youth' class OH DARN.)
Also here's a link to a map I made of the journey through Narnia. It was mostly to keep it straight in my head, but if any of you are curious, here you go:
aspiringartist94 . deviantartart Narnia - Trail - 469732775
Remember to take the spaces out when you copy and paste this.