And so I re-emerge from Aslan's Country with another update! Enjoy!

Chapter 14: Claimed

"Rhydian, what do we do?"

I had held the fraying pieces of my courage together until I was alone with my brothers, crouched behind one of the massive tents, taking cover on a battlefield. My heart slammed painfully in my breast as Rhydian steadied me by my shoulders. His efforts to remain calm were valiant, though his wide eyes betrayed the fear that had started to freeze his conscience. Even Geraint had gone pale.

Since the day on the run in the woods all that time ago, this was the only time I had seen either of them frightened. It rattled me.

She's coming. She's coming. She's coming.

And no doubt, she would take pleasure in loosing our secret on our new friends.

The four of them, panicked, rushed to the front of the camp. Lucy looked as though she might burst into tears. Peter and Susan had gone sheet white. And Edmund… to this day, I cannot describe the expression on his face. I wish that I could forget it.

Rhydian's eyes steeled. One of his hands jumped from my shoulder to Geraint's. He looked back and forth between us, a little of his courage returning.

"We will do what we have been preparing to. We're going to face her."

Geraint scowled determinedly and nodded. My eyes bugged.

Maybe my brothers were ready, but I certainly was not.

"She will not see terror in our eyes this day." Rhydian drew himself back up to his full height and turned towards the middle of camp, where unfamiliar hooves plodded down the path. I suddenly felt even smaller, more trapped, than I had in years.

"But Rhydian, I am scared."

I hated how my voice quaked. I so wanted to be brave like my brothers, but I certainly didn't feel it.

Rhydian's eyes softened as he gazed on me. A smile came to his lips.

"So am I, little sister," he said. "But that doesn't mean that she will see it."

The heavy footsteps thumped closer, so much so that I could feel their steps in the ground. Through the gap in between tents, grimy armor glinted in the sunlight. Greaves ground into the sand. Leather sword belts creaked. An agitated grunt rumbled from the other side of our tent, one I hadn't heard since the night my brothers and I fled.

Cyclops.

"Come, Renn." Geraint gently tugged at my arm. I hadn't noticed Rhydian had already begun to push through the crowd.

My heart leaped. My breath shortened. I suddenly felt as though I had anvils smithed to the soles of my sandals, and every step I took dragged more than the last as we edged our way through the throng of soldiers amassed in front of us.

The Witch's dwarf sneered the moment we surfaced, I between my brothers, my hands clamped in theirs. It had been years since I had seen him. His shrill voice recited the titles that the Witch had stolen, his red mouth gaping with glee. Rhydian's hand tightened around mine.

"Courage, sister," he said. "Courage."

I had none to spare. And we hadn't even-

My vision marred with tears. Ice burned up my spine. I watched the Cyclops' feet as they trudged past, not able to raise my eyes past the hem of the dress that spilled over the edges of the throne they bore like wet, heavy snow.

I glanced at Rhydian. He stared her straight in the face, unwavering, his jaw setting in the way that Father's always had. Geraint mirrored him.

I didn't have to look at the Witch to know she stared into me, to all of us. Her deep voice ordered her entourage to stop, to set her down. She rose.

"Rhydian." Her voice trembled as if she had missed him, as if she were proud. All present knew better. When she smiled at him-at all of us-all I saw was a viper bearing its teeth. "My sweet son."

She spoke the words just loud enough to be overheard. I risked a glance towards Peter, who stood with his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, putting himself between the Witch and his siblings. He stared at us, agape. They all did.

"Oh," the Witch went on. "I suppose you hadn't told them, then."

I could barely hear her over the roaring in my ears, the pounding of my heart. I couldn't tear my gaze from them, nor have I ever forgotten the horror on their faces.

I'm sorry. How I wished I knew what ran through their heads. I'm so sorry.

Please, don't hate us.

"It seems in trying to earn their favor, you forgot who you really are, children of Lilith." Was that a laugh on her breath? "You may have tried to run, but you will always belong to her, belong to me-"

A low growl rolled through the camp. The Witch visibly flinched. I tore my eyes from my mother and laid them on the Lion, whose tail swished like a mildly annoyed house cat. He clearly was not frightened. Maybe I didn't need to be, either.

The Witch rearranged herself and strode towards the Lion. The ice in her melting crown rippled in the sunlight. Her smooth voice, her cool composure, they almost distracted from the wideness in her eyes, the shortness in her breath.

Almost.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan."

"His offense," Aslan replied, "was not against you."

My stomach twisted into knots.

The Witch scoffed. "Have you forgotten the law upon which Narnia was built-"

"Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch." A hint of a roar rumbled with Aslan's voice. It was strange to see his eyes narrowed, his teeth bared. "I was there when it was written."

The moment he spoke, the chill in my bones vanished, chased away by the warmth I had so come to relish. It covered me like a sturdy cloak in a snowstorm. All of a sudden, I felt untouchable.

"Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me." The Witch acted as if she hadn't just jumped out of her skin, as if she didn't know the sand in her hourglass was quickly running out. "His blood is my property."

I stole a glance at Edmund. Almost as if in a trance, he kept his wide eyes on Aslan. It was almost as if he hadn't heard her.

Peter, however, had. He drew his sword.

"Try and take him, then."

The ring of Peter's sword was answered by the cool scraping of a few thousand soldiers behind unsheathing theirs. The scowl he'd drilled into Maurgrim reappeared on his face, though I could see the fear blossoming in his eyes. The Witch smiled at him as if he were a schoolboy failing his lessons.

"Do you really think that mere force will deny me my right?" She looked him up and down, amused. "Little king."

Peter's stance slumped. My fists rolled into angry balls.

The Witch went on, "Aslan knows that unless I have blood as the law demands-" She wheeled to address the rest of the camp. The viper was striking. "All of Narnia will be overturned, and perish, in fire and water. That boy-" she threw an accusing finger in Edmund's face "-will die. On the Stone Table. As is tradition."

Edmund shrank, his focus shattered. The Witch had his courage by the neck. When she turned to Aslan, I wished he would pounce her right then and there and tear her throat out, but he made no such move. His ways, I had learned, were not mine.

"You dare not refuse me."

"Enough," Aslan growled. Looking down his nose at her, he added, "I shall talk with you alone."

The Witch wordlessly floated across the grass and threw his tent open with a wide burst of her white arms. Long after they had passed through, I stared at the tent flaps, frozen. My head spun. My knocking knees finally gave out, and I sank into the grass.

What did Aslan want with her, and what would she do to-

I hadn't noticed my brothers sitting down adjacent from me, nor had I heard the feet padding through the grass behind me. My stomach lurched. Tears again stung at my eyes.

They know.

Certainly that was why they were coming.

I hardly had time to school my expression before Peter sat down on my left, Susan on my right. Edmund and Lucy followed. I sat on my hands so they would not see them shaking.

I felt as though I sat in a box, walls erected on either side and in front and behind me. After several agonizing minutes of silence, I finally risked a glance at Edmund. Aslan only knew what ran through his head.

"She told me she had no children of her own."

I felt my lips tighten in a scowl. My eyes bored into the ground. I cursed my cracking voice as I spoke:

"She lied."

Now what must they think of you? You're a monster, girl. It's in your blood.

Edmund yanked up a handful of grass, twiddling it between his fingers before he started to braid the strands together.

"Wouldn't be the first time," he said.

Silence claimed us yet again. The knot in my stomach only tightened, almost so it hurt to breathe. The ice running down my back hardened.

Monster. Evil. Disgrace.

They'll never trust you.

You're mine-

"Well if Aslan can trust you," Edmund broke the spell that had befallen us. "Then so do I."

I raised my gaze back to him. The starts of a smile warmed his tired brown eyes. He looked between his siblings, asking them to his side without words. One by one, they nodded.

Try as I might, a response wouldn't come, though I suppose my stunned silence said more than I could have with words.

The tent flaps burst open. We shot to our feet. The Witch, her head held high upon her long white neck, floated across the grass to her iron litter. I didn't trust the gleam in her eyes. Aslan emerged behind her.

The camp held its breath.

A declaration:

"She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood."