Chapter 8: Just the Chivalry
Harry had every intention of going to lunch with the Pevensies after he left his armor with one of the dwarves. Aslan's How, as it turned out was massive, and rather had a lot more rooms and corridors than he'd initially anticipated. As he navigated the ancient building, he was reminded of his first few weeks at Hogwarts.
He had to stop for directions a few times, but eventually he made his way through a long corridor that let out into a large antechamber. The walls were covered floor to ceiling with ornate carvings of all sorts of creatures and scenes. They were so mesmerizing that Harry almost didn't notice that he wasn't alone. Someone shifted in his peripheral vision. It was Susan.
"Heard you lot were back here somewhere." Harry said as he approached her. He flinched slightly at how loud his voice echoed throughout the chamber over the crackle and snap of the flames lighting it.
Susan's head of dark hair flipped over her shoulder as she turned toward his voice. He could just barely make out the scar above her collar bone, the one she'd shown him at Cair Paravel. She was sitting atop one of the steps of the Stone Table, her back was to him, she was facing toward a giant carving of a lion, beneath the arch. Her eyes looked glassy in the fire-light.
"Sorry," he said, dropping his voice to a whisper. He suddenly felt as though maybe he shouldn't have been there. "I didn't realize…I can go—" he said pointing over his shoulder with his thumb at the direction he'd come from. Susan shook her head silently and turned back to the carving. Harry knew this place was sacred to the Pevensies and the rest of the Narnians, but he still didn't truly understand why.
He followed her gaze to the great carving. It was the largest of all in the chamber. Harry hadn't ever been in tomb or to a funeral in his life, not a proper one. Cedric's had been an unusual affair, and unfortunately Harry's only experience with graveyards had been last spring and he wasn't too keen on repeating that anytime soon. His whole life, Death chased and nipped at his heels like rabid blood thirsty hound. He wondered what a ceremony might have been like. Did his parents have a funeral? He wished he could remember it. Where were they even buried? He'd have to ask Sirius once they got back home…if they got home.
"I assume that Lucy's told you of Aslan by now?" Susan asked. Her voice cracked and sounded raw, like she'd been crying, and then hadn't spoken for a while afterwards.
"Sort of." Harry replied. He moved around and settled on an overturned stone next to her.
"He's the king of Narnia."
"I thought Peter was—"
"No. Aslan…he's the King, the father of all Narnians, the Son of the Emperor beyond the Sea—Peter's the High King, just beneath Aslan. Not that he's been behaving that way lately…Caspian grates on him." explained Susan. "He's been a volcano ready to blow the last few months. Peter may not have thrown the first punch at the train station, but he's been chomping at the bit to prove himself worthy of respect for months." Susan sighed. "Going back after spending all those years ruling, it was so horrible. And then coming home…It's not how I'd thought it would be. Everything we built and bled for is gone, it failed, crumbled to dust. And Aslan, nowhere to be found."
"Didn't Lucy see him at the gorge?" Harry asked.
Susan nodded. "Faith in Aslan always came the easiest to Lu. She knew we'd come back."
"Didn't you?"
"I hoped so. But two years of waiting was all it took to break my heart. I was angry, hurt. I'd forgotten what it felt like that first year, and then seeing this…" she gestured to the carving of Aslan.
Harry waited for her to go on, but she didn't seem to be able to continue. Finally, Harry asked her. "Su…what is this place?"
She swallowed back tears. "It's the Stone Table." She whispered. "Before our time, this was the place where traitors were brought to be killed." Harry inhaled sharply at her admission. Disgust roiled in the pit of his stomach. Her forget-me-not blue eyes flooded. "There was a witch. She locked Narnia into a hundred-year winter with her magic." Harry briefly tripped over the vitriol dripping off of Susan's voice at the mention of the witch. Amazingly he was able to keep himself from asking more, but as she went on, she answered his unspoken question.
"She was cruel tyrant and those she viewed as traitors she slaughtered. I—" Susan paused a moment to collect herself. "It is not my story to tell." She turned to Harry, her expression conveying to him that he was not to repeat this to anyone.
"I understand." Harry said in answer to her silent question. She pinned him down with a scrutinizing look. Harry felt like a specimen under a microscope. Then she gave him a curt nod of satisfaction.
"She took Edmund. He spent some time in her captivity when we first came. Aslan rescued him of course, but the Witch believed that he belonged to her. Aslan traded his life for Edmund's the night before the Battle of Beruna. Lu and I…we witnessed his death."
Whatever he expected, it hadn't been that. "She killed him?" Harry asked dumbfounded.
"Yes." Susan shuddered, and Harry knew she was reliving the moment in her memory. He knew what that was like. She turned her eye to the table. "I sat here." She gestured to the step she was on. "And wept with Lucy all through the night."
Susan stood up, trailing her fingers along the ancient words carved around the table. Her pale ring fingertip snagged on a sharp point of rock and a bead of blood gathered. Susan took no notice of it, but Harry did. "We sent messengers to Peter and Edmund, that the Witch was coming. When dawn broke Lucy and I finally got up to return to camp."
"I told her that, 'He must know what He's doing.' It was the only thing I could think of to say even though my heart was broken. So, I sacrificed my right to grieve for another's…a whole nation's…The moment I became Queen Susan, was the second I stopped thinking about myself. I've forgotten that since being back in England."
She turned her back on the archway and the carving of Aslan behind it, and began her descent of the steps leading up to the stone table. Harry followed her every move, drinking in every word as if he were a man who'd run across the desert. She resumed her story. "I had my arm around Lucy…we were halfway down them when…" Susan dropped to her knees. "Everything cracked." She looked back toward Harry. "All the rocks, and the Stone Table itself split in two. We raced back to see what had happened, but Aslan's body was gone. And then the sun came up…" She fixed her eyes on Aslan's carving, "And there he was. Breathing…Alive… Real." Susan released a deep sigh.
"How?" Harry asked, mesmerized by her tale. Susan made her way back up the stairs and sat once more on the step next to Harry.
"Aslan said it was the Deep Magic." She folded her hands in her lap and leaned back.
"Deep Magic?" Harry asked, puzzled by the term even as his mind automatically went over what Dumbledore told him about how his Mum's love protected him from Voldemort his first year after they retrieved the Sorcerer's Stone.
"It's the magic that the foundations of Narnia were built upon." Susan said. "Not much is actually known about how it works; it's just sort of in the fabric of the world. But that day, Aslan explained a little of it to Lucy and myself. He said that if a willing and innocent victim sacrificed their life for another's then the Stone Table would crack and turn Death backwards."
Something inside of Harry settled. The revelation was like a curtain being lifted. Darkness split wide open, light filling the cracks, overwhelming him from the inside out. He didn't exactly understand the strange sense inside of him that he was shifting toward a truth that he'd known was out there, but had never found. Despite his lack of understanding, he didn't feel overwhelmed, or burdened by the knowledge, just transcendent peace. Everything unstable and stormy in his life had seemingly calmed on this truth that Susan had revealed. The raging seas turned flat, revealing the rocky crags beneath them. He could at last see his way forward among the terrain.
Harry felt his lips forming the words to his final question even though he was sure he already knew the answer. "Why did he do it?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Susan said gently, turning to look him in the face. Harry held her gaze steadily. The light of the torch fires framed her face hovering about her hair like a glowing golden halo. Susan's beautiful forget-me-not eyes glistened with something other than tears, and he was glad for it. Her rose pink lips quirked in a soft smile, "Love."
Harry felt something well up inside him; it bubbled out of him as though from a fresh spring eager to find a course from which to flow. He laughed softly. "Yes…of course. I'd like to meet your Aslan someday."
"I'm sure you will, Harry." Susan replied. Her hand found his in the dark. A jolt of surprise went through Harry at the contact. Her hand was warm, but calloused and strong. They were not the hands of an idle woman, but one who worked ferociously to protect what they loved. She gave his fingers a small squeeze and the two of them sat before Aslan's carving a little while longer, not speaking, just being.
Finally, his stomach growled and he realized that he hadn't had anything to eat yet. He turned to Susan with a smile. "How about some lunch, yeah?"
"Probably a good idea." She stood up and smoothed out the fabric of her rumpled dress. Harry nodded, thankful that he wouldn't have to coax her any further.
"Go on ahead of me; I'll catch up in a minute," he said, keen to give her just a little space before the two of them had to be around the others. "Su?" he called after her. She paused and looked back at him. "Thank you for telling me." Harry said earnestly. She smiled and went on her way. Gentle indeed. Harry watched her go, when she was finally out of his line of sight he returned to the great carving of Aslan.
"Well," Harry said out loud staring at the lion's likeness. "I don't know what I'm doing here…but it sounds like you might know. And I'm not sure if it means anything…but I dunno, thanks for bringing me here anyway." Harry shrugged, "I haven't felt this rested in years. So erm…thanks?" Harry finished, scratching at the back of his head. The chamber was silent. Harry wasn't sure what he expected anyway. "Right…I'm definitely barmy." He shook his head, and left the chamber.
When he'd finally made his way up from the Stone Table room, he found Peter and Susan sitting at a small table was set up on the precipice of the How's ledge. It looked out over the dense forest that surrounded the Aslan's How.
"Harry!" greeted Peter, with a friendly nod. He moved aside and patted the bench next to him. "Come have some lunch with us." Peter grabbed an empty plate and passed it to him. "I'm afraid you've just missed Edmund and Lucy though."
"Oh, where've they gone?" Harry inquired, "And have either of you seen Hermione? She keeps wandering off." He settled next to Peter across from Susan and pulled a tray of cheese and fruit toward him while Susan dished him a bowl of what looked like vegetable soup. She looked considerably lighter now that she had some food in her.
"Edmund went for a ride with some of the other guards to scout the surrounding area. During our reign he tended to head up anything with the army." Peter explained. "Took him no time at all to start organizing the troops and drafting strategies."
"I'd thought that would have been your job." Harry said, "Pass the bread, please."
Peter reached across the table for the bread basket and handed it to him. "We split the load really. I oversaw all the training, but often had a lot on my plate in the way diplomatic meetings and paperwork." Harry found that surprising. Peter seemed more the physical type. He supposed if you were in charge of running a country there would be any number of administrative jobs that kept you occupied.
"Don't kid yourself, Harry." Susan said with a teasing grin, "He hated the paperwork. I did about fifty percent of it for him." Peter groused at the comment, but also grinned. "In answer to your question though: Lucy's gone off to help organize an infirmary, check the medicine supplies and such." Susan said with a wave of her hand. "Very typical for her as well."
"I haven't seen Hermione lately though." Peter added, taking a sip of wine from the goblet in his hand. Harry frowned, thoroughly annoyed that she kept disappearing on him. He had so many thoughts swimming about in his head, he was desperate for a chance to think it out with her. He figured she could take care of herself though.
"And Caspian?" Harry asked. A tick in Peter's jaw appeared. Harry raised an eyebrow and sent a questioning look at Susan, who just rolled her eyes at him in response and then went back to buttering her bread. Sensing that this was an area of tension for the two eldest Pevensies, Harry decided to let it drop for now. "What about you Susan?" He asked, steering the conversation back toward their reign.
"Me?"
"Yeah. What you'd get up to on a daily basis as a queen?"
"Oh, um. I sort of ran the palace. It took a while to find a niche I suppose." She replied. Ah, so she was the real backbone of the family then. Harry thought of Hermione and all the time she spent looking after him and Ron. Writing out schedules, checking homework, researching, planning, making sure he had enough to eat before quidditch games.
"So, you were the reason the rest of your family didn't fall apart?" Harry asked with a grin. Peter and Susan met each other's eye and shared a quick laugh.
"Essentially." She said as Peter nodded his agreement. "I organized everything. The household servants, coordinated all the major events and festivals to simple everyday going-ons."
"Half the staff reported to her on a regular basis." Peter added.
"They did not," she quipped.
"They did." Peter said to Harry with a wink. Harry began to relax as the conversation continued along that path for a bit. Susan had just finished relating the tale of their first day of training at Aslan's Camp. He laughed when she told him how Lucy had beat her at target practice on the first try. Peter smiled. "That was a good afternoon." He said sentimentally.
"It was…" Susan agreed. Their eyes met and Harry saw something somber and unspoken pass between them. Susan plastered on a very fake grin, though Harry supposed if you didn't know her well, it could have passed for genuine. But it didn't make the corners of her eyes crinkle, and the sparkle that followed true joy was absent. "But it was a long time ago." She concluded.
"Indeed. Say Harry," Peter asked. "How about a bit of training this afternoon? May as well get your swordsmanship skills sharpened." He grinned excitedly.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, taking a swallow of the wine from his own goblet. "That'd be great!"
"Excellent!" He grabbed a cloth napkin and started wrapping some of the food up. He filled a small flask with soup and stood. "Su? Want to come?" Peter asked.
"No thanks," she replied. "I think I'll go clean up and change my dress out. This one's filthy from the journey." Peter nodded.
"I'll meet you down there in a moment Harry."
"Sounds good." Harry slugged back the final drops of his drink and moved to help start cleaning up. Susan swatted his hands away.
"Go on. I've got it." She shooed him with a small smile. He returned it and set off quickly to catch Peter.
oOoOo
Hermione left her conversation with Lucy feeling as if her very bones were vibrating with energy. Her determined steps back into Aslan's How pounded with purpose as she began to go over everything that she knew in her head. The Pevensies were most definitely the ancient kings and queens all of the Narnians spoke of with reverence. That much was true. It was also equally clear to her that they were here to put Caspian on the throne, and she was there for…not that.
But she wasn't sure how to move forward. She'd grown used to being the brains of the Golden Trio, an operating member of a team. She hadn't done anything like this on her own before. She needed to know what she was getting herself into. No one seemed to want to give her a straight answer. All she had was the prophecy and the Pevensie Family. What she needed was a bloody library!
She groaned inwardly thinking about Lucy's theory that Edmund was the one keeping her here. She almost felt guilty about it, because she knew it was true. To be drawn to another so soon after Cedric's death felt like betrayal. Ginny would have told her that it was rubbish and that it wasn't a crime to find someone interesting and attractive. Hermione froze in place. Ah shite, he was attractive and her brain had just copped on to what had begun to stir in her heart over the last few days.
It wasn't as if it could go anywhere with Edmund. Besides she already had a time-traveling, world-hopping, prophecy-fulfilling mess on her hands! No need to complicate it with a crush that might not even last. She had a job to do and she couldn't let her heart cloud her good sense. No, she refused to end up with another dead boyfriend... Damn!
"Ah, Hermione!" Peter exclaimed, popping around the corner. He stopped short as to not walk into her and Hermione realized almost too late that she'd nearly run him down. "We were wondering where you'd gotten off to." Peter said.
"Oh, umm…I was with Glenstorm and then Lucy." She supplied with a firm nod.
"You missed lunch." Peter led softly, waiting for her to say more. She paused at his gentle tone. The wild fire of the battling thoughts in her head dimmed just a little. She didn't feel afraid, but she was a little wary of both Pevensie boys after that morning. The prophecy hadn't helped ease her either.
But Peter's presence was more of a balm to an uncontrolled forest fire than it was smothering. It was an odd occurrence for her to pinpoint other peoples' presences by the way they felt. She wasn't sure what to say. Maybe her magic was heightening her senses here? The idle thought passed and she filed it away for later.
"I've had a lot on my mind." She replied. Peter shifted his weight from one foot to the other and nodded slowly. It seemed he was quite aware of her current discomfort and so he kept a respectful distance. He passed her a small bundle of food. She took it.
"I'd have sent it with Lucy, but she does tend to flit about on the wind." Peter chuckled fondly and Hermione found herself releasing a little huff of laughter with him. That seemed very in line with her experience of Lucy thus far.
"Yes, I could see that." She responded fiddling with the small bouquet of wildflowers Lucy had bestowed upon her.
Peter's eyes were still sparkling with mirth as he straightened his posture. "I wanted to thank you," he said earnestly, "for earlier." He clasped his hands behind his back, leaning forward on the balls of his feet slightly.
"Oh!" Hermione hadn't expected a thank you. "There's no need." She said holding up her hand to stop him from going on.
Peter shook his head, "But there is a need," he said firmly. "You put yourself at risk helping him. Who knows what could have happened? I'm glad you did it. I've never seen him calm so quickly after such a bad episode. Ed, he doesn't extend his trust easily."
She froze. First Lucy, now Peter. What did they see in her that she couldn't? "But…he hardly knows me."
Peter smiled as if he knew something she didn't. "Edmund's a good judge of character," Peter replied confidently. "If he trusts you…so do I." The ground rippled beneath her as though a wave had rolled through it. She gave a startled glance at the floor. Hermione stilled even further at his admission. She glanced up at Peter's face. His expression struck her as too vulnerable for a king to wear. An uncomfortable weight settled in the pit of her stomach and she just knew there was no way to jump ship now. Her heart was already involved and she cared too damn much about the Pevensie family to resist their unspoken requests to help their brother.
"Hermione—" Harry said as he bounded around the corner. With a surprised jolt she and Peter both turned toward Harry expectantly. Whatever he'd been about to say faded. "Oh…did I interrupt something?" She deflated with a sigh and a shake of her head. She smoothed out her dress nervously. Merlin, what was she going to tell Harry? She swore a headache was coming on, and she'd just about kill for a bubble bath right now. Harry's brow furrowed.
"Are you alright, Hermione?" he asked, "You look dead on your feet."
"Have you seen Susan?" she asked Harry. His cheeks pinked ever so slightly. He pointed over his shoulder in the direction he'd just come from. "Just want to clean up is all." She said with false brightness. Harry glared suspiciously at her, clearly aware she was lying, but he didn't say anything about it.
"Catch you later then." He sent her a look and Hermione knew that he was serious. She sighed again and nodded.
"Peter," she acknowledged with an awkward curtsey.
His eyes lit up with amusement. "Needs a bit of work, that." He grinned and clapped Harry on the back. "Off to the training fields with you mate." He winked at Hermione and the two of them disappeared leaving her to set off in search of Susan and potentially a hot bath.
oOoOo
Hermione had long since changed out of her dirty skirts from the journey to the How. Despite how annoying it had been to haul extra clothing and supplies around with them the last few days, Hermione was suddenly feeling very thankful that they had done so. She'd never again underestimate the power that a bath and clean clothing had over her mental well-being.
She wasn't sure what Susan had given her for her hair, but Hermione swore up and down that her curls had never been sleeker. The frizz was entirely gone and it seemed to have grown well past her shoulders in the span of only days. Susan said the Narnian air had a way about it, naturally smoothing out the strength and beauty in all who graced her lands.
She was now dressed in silky silver underdress with a dark navy blue split skirt over the top, much like Lucy had sported on their way to meet up with Caspian. She wore charcoal gray leggings underneath and knee-high riding boots that matched. She much preferred this outfit to the first. Her yellow gown was pretty, but cumbersome. The split skirt caught less on brambles.
On the horizon, she could see a small company of Narnians returning from their afternoon scout. Edmund was among them on horseback. Dust flew into the air behind him as he cantered steadily toward where she was waiting at the entrance of the How.
She raised up a hand to shield her eyes from the late afternoon sun. His face shone brighter than it had in the last two days. "You look refreshed," she said. His hair was windswept and curled at the nape of his neck. He looked flushed, but his eyes were full of light.
"I am." Edmund replied throwing his leg over the saddle as he dismounted. He loosened the reins over his horses' head and gave the halter a gentle tug, directing the horse to follow him. "It's a temporary fix," Edmund said, "But I'll take what I can get."
"I've never ridden a horse before," said Hermione without thinking.
Edmund stopped short. "Truly?" he asked. She shook her head. "Well now, we can't have that!" he declared with mirth in his dark eyes. "What say ye, Rowan? Up for a lesson?" Edmund asked, patting the horse's neck heartily. The brown stallion swung its large head around so quickly that Hermione darted back to avoid being smacked by his muzzle. The horse snorted and then proceeded to whinny.
"I should certainly like to make a friend," said Rowan. Hermione jolted in surprise. Edmund smirked.
"You talk…" she said incredulously.
"And why wouldn't I talk?" asked Rowan with a high-pitched whinny that seemed like a laugh. "Especially now, in the presence of other Narnians, I should be very glad to talk at last." The horse swung his head back toward Edmund. "I'll leave it to you my liege."
"Come now," Edmund said patiently. "Do say if you need a rest, I'll not have such a noble beast as yourself keeping quiet on my account."
"It would be my honor, King Edmund." Replied Rowan. Edmund nodded and turned toward Hermione with a smile still dancing upon his lips.
"If he's game, then I think perhaps I must insist. A lady ought to know how to ride and you'll not get very far with only two legs." Edmund winked cheerfully at the horse who snickered as if sharing a private joke with him. Hermione got the distinct impression that she was missing something. "Rule number one with riding: Always introduce yourself and ask permission." Edmund said, his voice becoming much like an instructor.
He held out his hand for her to take. She placed a trembling hand in his. Edmund placed her hand open palmed before Rowan's nose so he could get a good scent. Her palms began to sweat. Rowan wasn't an English draft horse by any means, but Hermione was a city girl, rather unfamiliar with large animals in general…if you didn't count Fluffy, or Norbert, or Buckbeak…
"What if it's not a Talking Horse?" asked Hermione shakily.
"You still ask…" Edmund replied with a slightly hard glint in his eyes. And she knew he was quite serious.
She nodded. "You speak to them differently than you do me." Hermione observed. Edmund blinked in surprise at her comment. "Not unkindly, just…different. I can't put a finger on it."
"Force of habit." Edmund replied. "They're still my people, even after all these years. I have authority over them. We learned to accept that reverence while still showing them respect and that we cared." He shrugged contemplatively. "I don't think we notice that we do it. That's probably some of the reason we had trouble back in England. The 'grown-ups' tended to think we had an entitlement problem." Edmund said with a roll of his eyes.
Hermione thought briefly of the way some people treated Harry back home because of how young he was when he became famous. "Just because we're young doesn't mean that we don't know anything," Hermione huffed in agreement. Edmund regarded her for a moment. He looked both surprised and relieved at her frustrated comment.
She jumped unexpectedly as Rowan shifted his weight toward her. Edmund cracked a grin at her noticeable discomfort.
"There now, Hermione…he won't bite." Edmund reassured softly.
Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him. He looked so calm. She was pleasantly surprised to note that his relaxed state, helped her calm down. She averted her gaze before he could notice her staring.
"Horses are intuitive creatures," Edmund said after a little bit, guiding her hand to stroke Rowan's neck. "They're very sensitive to emotion. If you're scared, they often feel your fear. If you are at peace, so are they. It's in your body language." He released her hand and took a step back. "See?" Hermione smiled softly.
She nodded, but said nothing in an effort to stay focused.
"Do you want to try to get on then?" Edmund asked her.
"Sure."
"Okay." He released the halter and led her to the saddle. "Just as well that you changed. You'll have an easier time riding in this than your other dress." He commented. "Left foot here in the stirrup. Use your momentum from the lift to swing your other leg over."
She placed the toe of her boot into the stirrup. A jolt of anxiety, one that had nothing to do with riding for the first time, tore through her. She turned to look over her shoulder at Edmund. "What if I fall?" she asked him out loud. What if she failed? Not what if she failed the damn prophecy…what if she failed him?
"Then I'll be right here to dust you off," he said with a firm nod. He didn't promise her that she wouldn't, or even that he would catch her if she did fall. Hermione didn't move, she was rather caught on the heartfelt, sturdy feeling of trusting in him. It hardened her resolve.
She took a deep breath and pushed herself up, swinging her leg over as instructed. She landed in the saddle with a soft thump and let out a breathy laugh. Edmund chuckled at her relief.
"Not so bad as you thought?" he asked with a teasing smirk. Hermione impulsively stuck out her tongue at him. "How's she feel to you Rowan?" Edmund asked jovially.
"Significantly lighter than yourself, my liege."
"Ho, what is this? Do you mock me noble Horse?" Edmund scolded playfully. "I'm your king; you'll just have to deal with me. Hermione, however, feel free to throw her off if you don't like her." Hermione's eyes widened in slight alarm, before she realized that Edmund was still teasing.
"Please don't Rowan!" she called out quickly from behind the saddle. Edmund just laughed at her as he pulled the reigns back over Rowan's head toward Hermione.
"Take these," he passed them off to her. "Leave some slack though, you don't want them pulled tight because that's a signal for him to stop. Of course, you could tell him, but that won't always be the case." Edmund looped the two reigns together and corrected her grip. "Thumbs in, and try to keep them in one hand. It's useful if you ever need to defend yourself with the other."
"But what will I hold onto then?" Hermione asked while she adjusted her grip on the leather.
"You hold on with your knees." He placed his hand on her left knee and pushed it against Rowan's side. She tried to press her knees inward but ended up using her heels as well. Rowan shifted uncomfortably beneath her. "Not quite." Edmund said. "Your grip is all in your knees and thighs. The balance comes from your core. Keep your heels pointed down, toes up. When you want him to go or to pick up speed all you have to do is tap him with your heels."
Hermione did as Edmund instructed. They spent the rest of the afternoon together. Edmund walked alongside her and Rowan until she got comfortable on her own. He showed her how to steer and as her confidence grew, he even got her to trot with Rowan for a while.
As the afternoon progressed, Hermione found that she began to see why Edmund loved riding so much. There was something in the rhythm of it that freed her from her worries. The wind whipping through her hair and the breathless excitement that came from gliding along with the wind and Rowan's hooves pounding into the earth below them. Hermione had never considered herself athletic and so was surprised at how easy it came to her. It was like a memory that she couldn't recall, but her body could feel it with every twist, jump, and twitch of her muscles. Perhaps it was the Narnian air or even the magic in her blood, but she took to it like a fish to water.
At long last, just an hour before dusk, golden light sparkled through the waving grass of the field they practiced in. Hermione begged Edmund to let her try to canter at least once before they turned in for the evening. They argued about it for a good five minutes. Edmund finally threw his hands up in air and relented, shaking his head about her stubborn perfectionism and childish enthusiasm with a smile dancing up his lips. She did a lap around the field, cantering the whole way. It was marvelous.
She and Rowan stopped just a foot in front of Edmund.
"That was brilliant, but erm, how do I get down?" she asked sheepishly. Edmund rolled his eyes.
"The same way you got up, silly woman." He said with a note of fondness in his voice and a shake of his head. Hermione couldn't stop the blush that warmed her cheeks, but she was too happy to care if he saw. She loosened her toe from the stirrup and swung her leg over, but just as she was bringing it around the hem of her skirt caught the saddle. She let out a startled gasp and lost her balance. Hermione jammed her eyes shut, waiting for the impact of the hard ground on her back. It never came. Instead, two solidly muscled arms caught her up bridal style. She opened her eyes, startled.
"I thought…" she began, "…you were going to let me fall," she finished more quietly than she'd meant it too. Gone was their playfulness from the early afternoon.
"Force of habit?" he suggested weakly. "Besides, I'm not convinced you're the type to let me try and rescue you." He shrugged.
"You did anyway." She pointed out nervously. "And I let you…" The tight lid she was trying to keep on her swirling emotions cracked a little more. Damn.
"How do you feel?" Edmund asked. His eyes sparkled like warm whiskey in the fading light of the day. The way the light bounced off his hair was a dead giveaway that it wasn't actually black as she'd initially thought, but instead a very dark brown.
"Weightless," Hermione whispered.
He nodded at her with a soft look on his face and exhaled a sigh of relief. "Good. I could tell you needed it." Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. He let her down gently. Hermione righted herself and unnecessarily smoothed out her skirt. She frowned, realizing that she'd picked the anxious tic up from Susan.
Edmund cleared his throat and turned to Rowan. "Well done, today noble horse. Hope you aren't too tired?" Edmund inquired.
"I shall sleep well tonight, Your Majesty," whinnied Rowan. "My lady, it was an honor to teach you today. I'll be off to the stables if you please, King Edmund."
"Thank you for your service and enjoy your evening, Rowan." Edmund replied formally dismissing him. The Stallion trotted back toward the How. Edmund dropped his formal posture and turned back to Hermione. "How do you feel about some dinner?" Edmund said abruptly. Hermione relaxed, thankful that he'd decided not to bring up their odd moment of intimacy seconds before.
"Sounds lovely." She agreed. Edmund nodded. The two of them stood awkwardly for a second, just staring at each other. Just as Hermione moved to begin the walk back, Edmund offered an arm to her. She frowned before remembering that he was a king, and it was probably just the chivalry showing. That was it. Just the chivalry that kept her from falling on her backside in front of him. Just the chivalry that made his eyes gleam as though promising warmth and safety in his arms. Right? Just the chivalry…
Hermione looped her hand into the crook of his arm with a small smile and the two of them set off for the How.
Just the chivalry.
A/N: Hey everyone! Time for a little advancement in Edmund and Hermione's relationship! Tell me what you think? Some of you sent inquiries after the last chapter about what Harry's "wildness" might be like. I decided to go into that here. His purpose in Narnia is far more connected to his purpose in the Wizarding World than Hermione's. Because Harry's life as a child was very unstable, I chose to depict his "wildness" like a thunderstorm calming. I love the idea that Harry learns to tame his rage and use it only when necessary. The calming effect of Narnia and Aslan on him, is precisely what he needs to reason through the next few years of his life. This will have a profound effect on him leading up to events of DH. I'm in the process of putting together some head cannons of Harry and Hermione "post-Narnia." Many of which inspired the last two chapters!