THE WORLD around me is almost moving too fast to see. Everything is a blur as preparations are carried out and plans are passed along. The air within the How grows hotter and thicker with anticipation every moment. Were it any other day, I might have scrambled for fresh air and a cool breeze. But today, I relish the heat and the stink of sweat and tempered metal. I let the chaos flood my senses and surrender myself to its demands.

Today the war is ending.

"Witchslayer!"

It takes me half a moment to realize the address, the strangeness of the name still struggling to find purchase in my mind. It sends a chill along my sweaty skin, pricking the hairs on my arms despite the suffocating atmosphere of the central chamber.

Witchslayer.

It's not going to be easy to hear that every day.

I straighten from my hunched position over the grindstone, pulling my foot from the pedal and my sword from the spinning surface. Behind me, the head hare, Camillo, has appeared, standing back on his hind feet with his large ears pointed straight up.

"Witchslayer," he says again—a greeting this time. "Your king requests your company in the upper chambers."

I stiffen, both at the hare's wording and the fact that he's here at all; Edmund always finds me out himself. This must be Susan's doing.

I'm so caught up in unravelling the truth I almost don't notice Bronedrek's raised eyebrow and suggestive smirk from his own grindstone. Almost.

I offer the Narnian a smile. "Thank you, Camillo. You can tell Susan she'd better speak to her prince before she leaves."

His yellow eyes sparkle in the firelight. "I'll pass it along," he says, lowering his front paws to the ground and bounding off across the chamber.

I make a point to ignore Bronedrek's unbearably teasing expression as I sheathe my sword and leave the forges, wondering how the messenger party fared at the Telmarine war camp and what information they gathered. It hasn't been long since Edmund left with Glenstorm and Wimbleweather to deliver the challenge, and although I'm almost positive Miraz accepted, I still find myself nervous as I climb the stairs to the upper levels. What if he refused? How are we going to give the queens enough time without the duel?

"Are you alright?"

Lucy's soft voice makes my head snap up.

The youngest Pevensie stands at the top of the staircase, looking more than a little concerned for me. She tilts her head inquiringly, prompting an answer. Right.

"Of course," I answer. "Usual pre-battle nerves is all."

She nods, her expression telling me how all too familiar she is with the feeling. "Me too." But something about the queen and her whispering voice feels wrong.

Frowning, I climb the last few steps to reach her. "Are you alright?" I ask her, keeping my tone gentle.

Lucy nods, her brown hair bobbing with the movement. "Yes." She smiles, though it doesn't reach her eyes — it's not the lively, bright-eyed smile I've grown so used to seeing.

A pang of worry slices through my chest. And without thinking, I stoop down and bring the girl into a tight hug. Lucy clings to me in return, radiating warmth and unease. "I just wish I was braver," she admits hoarsely. "Like you."

Her words touch my heart and bring a soft smile to my lips. I draw back to look the little queen in the eyes. "Do you want to know a secret?" I ask.

She nods, wringing her hands together.

"I'm terrified," I admit, watching her puzzled reaction fondly. "And I'll bet the only one who isn't right now is Reepicheep."

Lucy looks hopeful. "Do you think so?"

"Absolutely. To be brave isn't to be free of fear, but to have courage and strength."

Her eyebrows draw together in distress. "But what if I don't have either?"

I tilt my head in confusion. "Who was it that volunteered to break Telmarine lines and find Aslan all on her own?"

She glances at her feet, a bashful smile on her mouth. "I guess it was quite brave."

I nod, trying not to laugh at her incredible modesty. "Yes, it was. I wish I had your faith."

Her lips purse in consideration. "I suppose everyone seems to be having trouble with that lately," she says softly. "But we'll find him — he'll help us again. I promise."

She sounds so certain I'm afraid of what might happen should the mission fail. But I don't let that show on my face. Instead, I smile again and meet her bright blue eyes. "I know," I murmur in response. "Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"I'm sure," the queen says firmly, though I can read the amusement in her eyes. "I wouldn't want to leave Edmund without you."

My mouth falls open in shock and I poke her ribs, making her laugh out loud. "Quiet with that!"

Grinning, she tucks her hair behind her ear. "Alright, but you'd better see him before you have to leave."

"Only," I protest smugly, "if you'll teach me how to braid my hair after this is all over."

Lucy giggles, holding out her hand with her smallest finger stuck straight up. "Deal."

I stare at her in confusion, never having seen this strange gesture before. It must be something from their London.

Finding my unfamiliarity hilarious, Lucy ushers me to mirror her hand movements. "It's a pinky swear," she says, curling her slim finger around mine. "You lock pinky fingers to swear you'll keep your promise. And you can't break a pinky swear."

Pinky swear? I find the whole notion both absurd and absolutely adorable. But by the blinding smile on the queen's face, I can certainly say I'll die before I consider breaking it.

"Well," I declare, straightening my stance with a grin. "I'd better go find Edmund, then."

Lucy points down the hall toward their room, just about bouncing in place with excitement. "He's in there!"

I swallow my laughter before it can explode from my chest. "Thank you," I manage. "If I don't see you again before one of us leaves...good luck."

The corner of Lucy's mouth lifts in a lopsided smile. "You too," she says, smoothing the skirt of her dress. "And try not to get hurt this time, would you?"

I roll my eyes. As if I do it intentionally. "I'll do my best," I tell her sincerely.

Her face lights up in delight. "Good. I'm going to go find Susan and make sure she doesn't leave without having a word with Caspian."

The Pevensie girl skips past me, her red dress billowing behind her as she descends the stairwell in search of her sister, who's no doubt already been pestered by the hare Camillo. I watch her leave with a fond smile, wishing I'd had a sister like her to grow up with. It would have been a nice break from Caspian's imbecilic nature and heinous influence on me. I certainly wouldn't have had to worry about having a limb hacked off by a sword every other day. Damned idiots we were.

With my attention elsewhere, I almost collide with Edmund as he's leaving the Pevensies' shared quarters, but quick reflexes allow us to leap out of the way in time. And I couldn't have been more thankful, either. It wouldn't have felt very nice to ram into someone clad in full armour.

"Sorry," I mutter, stepping aside with a sheepish smile.

His dark eyes shine with amusement. "No, it's okay. Good timing, though; there's a brief in the war room."

"About the challenge?" I ask, my heart tightening with nerves. "What happened?"

"They needed a bit of convincing, but Miraz accepted of course."

A weight is lifted from my chest at the confirmation. "That's good news. So he's been crowned?"

Edmund nods and starts down the hallway. "A few of the Lords didn't seem too happy about it, either."

No, I think, recalling all the council meetings I'd spied on. They wouldn't have been.

"I'm just hoping whatever ridiculous armour he puts on is going to weigh him down enough to give Pete an edge. I-I mean, he's good, but..." a sigh falls from Edmund's lips and I know he wishes it were him preparing for the fight instead of his brother. As the superior swordsman, Edmund would have a better chance of winning and he knows it. Peter probably knows it, too. But Miraz would not accept a challenge from anyone less than the High King himself.

I bump my shoulder against his arm as a show of comfort. "I know," I murmur, trying not to think about how far into the woods Lucy will be with her cordial — how any fatal wounds won't be reversed. "But Miraz is old and has never seen a real battlefield before. And he doesn't have any experience fighting someone from the Golden Age."

"You think it'll make a difference?" Edmund slows his pace to move behind me, allowing space in the hall for a trio of armed dwarves to pass us on their way to the archers' post.

I try not to think about what it was like to fight him just a few hours ago at the Stone Table, how I'd pinned him at the end of the sword I'd stolen from his brother.

"Yes," I choke out. "It will. At least for a minute."

And a minute is a lifetime in a fight.

A shuffling noise from a room we're passing draws my curious gaze inside, where professor Cornelius sits at a wooden desk sifting through papers. My conversation with Caspian earlier comes hurtling back to me and I find myself stopped in the doorway.

Confused, Edmund stops and shoots me a questioning look.

"You can go," I tell him. "I'll just be a minute."

For the briefest moment, he hesitates — holding my gaze in search of any sign that I'm not okay. Then he nods and continues on his way to the war room, leaving me alone to speak with my father. I wish I had the time to sit down and ask him all the questions that have been churning in the back of my mind like a whirlpool, tell him every detail of my adventure since we parted in the palace courtyard so long ago. I wish there was time for such luxuries.

"Father?" I duck my head inside the stuffy room adorned only with a few flickering sconces.

He looks up from his work, smiling with surprise when his eyes land on me.

"My dear," Cornelius says merrily, gesturing me forward. "Come in, come in. What is it you need?"

I take a deep breath, stepping inside anxiously. "Answers," I admit. "If you have any."

"Well," he lays his pen on the desk and seals his inkpot, "I'll see what I can do."

I draw closer to his desk, peering curiously at the array of parchment strewn across its surface. Some, I note, have lines of writing in the professor's quick hand. "What are you doing?" I ask, unable to tell from his messy scrawl.

"Taking notes," he replies airily, waving his hand haphazardly about the air. "Of...everything, I suppose. I never thought I'd live to see such a day as this. It will be a story the Narnians will know for ages to come, and as a scholar, it's my duty to ensure the details survive." He chuckles down at his work. "Can't trust my old memory with remembering everything, can I?"

I manage a soft laugh at his joke before turning more solemn. He notices this shift and mirrors it, waiting patiently for my question.

"...Do you remember anything about my parents? Or...anything that would explain why the White Witch can use me?"

Cornelius's gaze drifts away to fall on the papers spread before him. With a sigh, he removes his spectacles from his nose and pushes his chair back to stand up.

The breath in my throat turns thick and heavy. He does, I realize. Stars above, he does know something.

All the mirth and radiance has left his eyes as he approaches me, his expression set in something regretful and sad. I feel my heart twist and for a second I question whether I want to hear what my father has to say. But then he takes my hands in his and squeezes as he has since I was a child to comfort me.

"Arryn, my dear." His voice is soft, as if pleading for my understanding. "You must know it was never my wish to have it this way. You are my daughter, if not of blood then of heart. I don't see you as anything else."

My legs weaken, terrified of what he might tell me — what he's been keeping from me all these years, letting it weigh heavy on his shoulders. "I know," I whisper hoarsely, blinking away the sting in my eyes. "I love you, too."

A sad smile touches his lips, softening the lines of his face. "I will tell you all that I know," he says. "If that is what you wish. But, as your father, I ask that you wait."

I can't help the choked disappointment leaking into my voice. "Why?" Have I not waited long enough?

Cornelius's eyes are awash with sorrow. "You have suffered, my dear. A heart can only withstand so much grief, even one strong as yours." His hands tighten around mine. "Let it heal before it breaks."

I close my eyes before the tears can leak through, his words ringing true in my bones.

"I promise the truth will find you."

There's more to my father's statement, and I don't need to hear the rest to know what it is. It hangs in the air between us like a weighted stone.

Should I like what that truth holds is another matter entirely.

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author's note

lmaoo lucy is the captain of these ships. she's really out there manning the sails and everything. i'm so proud.

apologies for disappearing, but school is over and has given me my life back so i can finally write again! whoops, i actually have a few more finals to write before i'm done, but close enough lol also this chapter might be a little rough, i haven't done a good read through because it's late and i work tomorrow morning but i wanted to get it out to you guys asap!

to all the new readers, i hope you're enjoying chimæra so far!

i'm so sad to see the prince caspian timeline almost over, but so damn excited to start voyage of the dawn treader after over a year of writing this book! yikes i can't believe it's been that long already.. in march of last year i started planning and writing chimæra and a month later (april 30) i published the first chapter on wattpad! i wasn't expecting to spend this long on this story (and still be working on pc timeline) but here we are lmao it's been so incredible and rewarding and i'm so excited to see what year two of this adventure brings.

even tho i technically missed chimæra's 'birthday' i still want to celebrate it on april 30 and give you guys something to thank you for being such wonderful readers! so here's your chance to request something (anything!) like more bloopers, edmund pov, or perhaps a teaser of some sort? haha y'all can request anything you can think of because i'm a little stuck on ideas!

thank you for reading and sticking with me!