IT WASN'T your fault.

Cornelius's words race through my mind on an endless current as I leave his study.

Dorren and Nenat.

The mark is a warning.

They went across the sea.

Dorren and Nenat.

They had to leave.

It wasn't your fault.

Across the sea.

I need the noise to stop. I need to find somewhere where the world is silent and doesn't scream at me from every possible direction. I need to find Edmund.

I call down the line, tugging at the invisible cord suspended between the planes of the world. It's stretched thin and feels fainter than usual: an indication of how far apart we are. The soft vibration that travels back in response is weak, but it's enough to give me a direction. I follow it outside, leaving the citadel and crossing the bridge to the village — to the boy on the other end.

I can feel his worry and panic before I see him, leaving the tight confines of the outer village to find him returning from the prison camp. And I know he must feel whatever storm of emotions I'm drowning beneath because his eyes are burdened with pain and he rushes forward to pull me into a hug.

I feel like a pathetic, helpless shell, clinging once again to Edmund Pevensie while the world throws itself at me like a battering ram.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, loosening my embrace to let him step away. "I'm fine."

Edmund tightens his arms around me fiercely, refusing to let me go. "You're not fine," he says, flooding the connection with affection and soothing reassurance that makes me hold tighter to this incredible boy that I have no reason to deserve. He has no way of knowing what I'm so upset about, but he doesn't need to. All that matters to him is that I'm not okay and that he be there when I need him.

"It's okay," Edmund tells me. "You don't have to be alright all the time."

"I feel like I'm never alright anymore."

His lips brush against my neck in a gentle kiss. "I know," he murmurs against my skin. "It's going to feel like that for a while."

Sighing, I close my eyes and rest my head against his shoulder. "I'm tired of it."

Edmund falls silent and I know what he's going to say before he says it.

"I could carry you, if you'd like."

Despite myself, I smile. "That offer still stands?"

"Always."

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"A warning?"

I nod, watching the Great River flow past us toward the sea with my knees drawn up to my chest.

"But you were just a baby," he says. "How could they decide that?"

I lift up my hand, glaring at those mocking white lines before holding my palm out, turning to look at him as I do so. "He said it was my birthmark. They were taught to watch for it and run when they saw it."

Edmund raises his right hand, placing it beside mine for comparison. "Then what does this mean?"

I stare at the scar on his thumb — nearly identical to my birthmark if not for the higher placement and scar tissue and the lines skewed at slightly different angles.

I shrug helplessly. "I don't know. I thought you said you got it from a teacup."

"I did." He flips his hand over and threads his fingers through mine. "It could have been a magical teacup, though."

I squint at the crooked grin he gives me. "Any particular reason why a magical teacup would give you such a specific scar?"

This time, it's his turn to shrug. "Maybe..." he lifts our connected hands into the air, "so this would happen."

Edmund pulls his thumb away so I can see his scar and my birthmark and how they align perfectly when our hands are clasped together. I lean forward in shock, making him laugh and fit his thumb back in place.

"What are the odds of that?" He muses.

I sigh and lay back in the grass, resisting the urge to say I don't know for what feels like the hundredth time since we came down to the river. Between the castle bursting with activity in every corner, the village being void of any privacy, and the prison camp being full of Narnians and prisoners, the only place to escape seemed to be here.

It was a long walk to skirt the cliff the palace was built upon and find a way down that wouldn't kill us, but it was worth it. I missed the buzz of the insects in the air and the earth under my feet and the wind with all its scents. I missed being nowhere with Edmund Pevensie, talking of frivolous things and laughing and forgetting to worry about everything that lay ahead. It was something I didn't know I needed so desperately; an opportunity to breathe.

And when we reached the shore of the Great River and settled onto the green grass to bask in the sun and the silence, I told him everything I'd just learned from Cornelius. It was a weight off my shoulders to talk about it and helped me to better absorb and consider everything he said. But while the truth shed light on the shadows of my past, it also illuminated all the unreachable corners and crevices I hadn't known existed. And the more I try to piece it together, the further I feel from understanding it.

So much of the truth is still missing and I don't how I'll ever uncover it.

Ed lays down beside me, squeezing my hand in his. "You'll figure it out," he murmurs. "You have all the time in the world and all of us to help you."

Closing my eyes against the bright sun, I relax into the soft grass and listen to the river and the sighs of the wind. I hope so.

His pulse thrums against my hand, synchronizing with mine. I hope so.

"Ryn?"

I hum in response, feeling his pulse quicken and a flicker of anxiety interrupt the calm flow of energy between us. I have a pretty good idea of what he's going to ask.

Edmund clears his throat awkwardly. "Um, can we talk about what happened yesterday? Before you left?"

The kiss. I open my eyes and turn to regard the king with a teasing grin.

He smiles. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why are you so nervous?"

Affection flutters across the link as he watches me, brown eyes drinking in the details of my face. "Because I might really like you. And I don't know how to go about any of this."

"I think you're doing okay," I murmur.

Ed lifts an eyebrow. "Does that mean you liked it?"

I laugh at the note of surprise in his voice, releasing his hand to roll onto my side and better face him. "Edmund, if I didn't like it, I would have made it very clear."

His smile widens, turning his eyes a beautiful, radiant amber in the sunlight. I hate that I have to ruin it.

I take a deep breath, carefully considering my words before trusting them to speak for me. "I've had this feeling the last few days like everything about you is so strangely familiar to me, like I knew you before but forgot. And I can't tell if whatever this is," I pull on the invisible tether, "has anything to do with that. It's gotten so much stronger since the Stone Table and we still don't know what it is."

Edmund nods, his once-broad smile turned thin and solemn. "I know," he admits, shifting onto his side. "I've been thinking about that, too."

My fingers pick nervously at the grass. "Edmund, I do really like you. And I honestly can't stop thinking of that kiss...but I can't handle a courtship or anything like that right now, as much as I wish I could." I shake my head. "There's too much going on for me; it's just too soon. I'm sorry."

His eyebrows draw together at that last bit. "Why in the world are you apologizing?" He demands with a soft laugh. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I don't want to do anything you're not okay with."

My heart melts at the sincerity in his voice — how strongly I know he'll stand by his words. "Thank you."

Edmund grins and pushes himself to his feet. "Well," he states cheerily. "I believe a friendly duel is in order before you spend the next five hours standing guard outside."

I check the sun's position in the sky and wrinkle my nose, realizing how soon I'll have to be back at the prison camp for my rotation. "I almost forgot about that."

"Don't worry," Ed pulls me to my feet with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "you'll forget about it again when I win."

My jaw falls open. "Oh, you think you're going to win?"

The king draws his sword, a terribly prideful air about him. "Weren't you the one who grew up reading stories about me?" He teases. "You should recognize Narnia's greatest swordsman when you see him."

I locate the sword belt I discarded in the grass earlier, pulling the blade from its scabbard with an excited grin. "I think you lost your incredible modesty on the walk down." I give the sword an experimental spin, rotating my wrist in a smooth circle before meeting Edmund's gaze. "I'll help you find it, though."

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A gust of wind rolls through the village square, rustling the leaves of the oak tree above us and tangling the careful pieces of hair grasped in my hands. Lucy decided it would be fun to go down to the village and enjoy the fresh air while teaching me the art of braiding one's own hair, but neither of us thought to consider the weather beforehand.

Settled onto the small area of grass with us, Nyssa tilts her head back and sniffs the air. "I smell rain, your highness."

The approaching storm of grey clouds should be enough warning to us, but the cheetah continues to remind us in hopes of persuading us to the palace. Lucy and I, however, are having far too much fun to care.

"Okay, did I fix it?" I turn around to show the younger girl the back of my head, holding the separated sections of my hair in one hand.

Lucy throws her head back in laughter. "It's worse!" She cries. "Arryn, how could you have made it worse?"

I trail my free hand along the partially-finished french braid, cringing as I realize how off-centre it's become. "Why does it keep happening!"

"You must be pulling it." Lucy ties off her own braid with a band and stands up. "Try it again," she says, sitting down behind me. "I'll watch and see if I can help."

I release the strands and start pulling apart the braid. Again.

"You've almost got it," Lucy insists. "You just need to keep it straight and it'll be perfect."

Nyssa chuffs, watching the square entrance for possible threats. "I've taught you far more intricate things than this hair arrangement, dear one. Give it time."

"Really?" The curious queen asks. "Like what?"

I think back to my years of training in the woods, picking through the endless memories of lessons and tough practices for the most dreadful and tedious of them.

"Patterning for camouflage," I respond. "That was one of the worst."

The cheetah nods, adding one of her own. "And heightening sense of smell."

"Terrible," I agree, sectioning off my hair to begin the braid again. "Structuring for sprints took me ages, too." Learning the precise structure of the cheetah's legs, spine, and tail and adapting an enlarged heart and lungs required nearly two weeks of miserable practice. Nyssa wouldn't let me move on to tracking until I could beat her in a race.

"Oh!" Lucy's hands curl around my wrists as I begin to stitch my hair. "See, this is where you start pulling it." She moves my hands over to keep them centred. "There. Now go straight down."

Chewing on the inside of my lip, I continue with the braid, carefully passing strands of hair between my fingers.

"Arryn, you're pulling it!" Lucy exclaims, giggling as she fixes my hands, then demands accusingly, "Did you make your fingers longer?"

"Of course not," I laugh, making her gasp in mock hurt.

"You liar!"

Some of the villagers in the square look over at us, smiling at the exuberant girls learning to braid beneath the oak tree.

Lucy sighs in content. "I think we should convince Caspian to build a garden," she says, shifting my hands back into place. "It's beautiful here, but…there isn't enough life."

"I think that's a wonderful idea."

The only place in the entire palace and outer village with greenery and grass is the little patch we're currently occupying, placed on the very edge of the town square and upon the cliffside above the Great River. A garden, I think, would be a gift in this stone fortress.

"I wish you could have seen the garden at Cair Paravel," she says dreamily. "It had beautiful flowers and apple trees and the grass was so soft. I used to play hide and seek with the young fauns and the squirrels and Susan and I would have picnics there all summer."

"Peter and Edmund wouldn't come?"

She laughs softly and corrects my hands. "Oh yes, they came too. But sometimes we wouldn't tell them and we'd have a girls' picnic with just the two of us."

"We should do that sometime," I offer. "We can all walk down to the river one day. It would be fun."

Instantly, she grows excited. "Oh, we should! Right after the coronation and Aslan's ceremony, we can celebrate!"

I notice Nyssa perk up suddenly, just as a drop of water splashes on my arm.

I frown. "I think it's raining."

"It is." Nyssa sits up and looks at the two of us. "I suggest we return to the palace quickly before one of you catches a cold."

"Alright, let's finish this quickly…" Lucy passes me a rubber band, which she and Susan had brought with them from London for styling their hair. Quickly, I gather up the rest of my hair just below the half-finished braid and tie a ponytail while the rain picks up speed, pelting a symphony against the leaves of the oak tree and sending the townspeople inside their homes.

"I think we should have brought a coat," Lucy laughs, following Nyssa out of the square as the rain falls harder. The cheetah picks up her speed, having an acute hatred for getting wet. Lucy and I are happy to chase after her and reach the safety of the palace as quickly as we can, although by the time we cross the bridge and enter the courtyard we're completely soaked and laughing hysterically over getting caught in the sudden storm.

Susan must have known we weren't back from the village yet because she's waiting inside the entrance hall with towels in her arms and an unimpressed expression on her face.

While she chastises us for risking catching a cold before Caspian's coronation, Lucy and I wrap ourselves in warm towels and laugh.

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author's note

brb i'm just crying in a corner because none of them know they aren't staying in narnia and they're all making plans as if they are ugh i'm not okay

well i changed the cover for chimæra again! let me know if y'all like it or if one of the old ones was better lol

also i hope the scene with edmund at the river wasn't like super cringey lmfao i was so uninspired when i was writing it and it felt quite choppy and just weird. so yeah i apologize for that. and hopefully y'all aren't too mad at me for keeping them friends. but arryn has been through some serious shit the last few days and she's sane enough to realize she's not ready for a relationship after all that trauma

in case it was confusing, this chapter covers two separate days; the first parts are a direct continuation from the last chapter (with the dress fitting and the convo with cornelius) and the last part with lucy, arryn, and nyssa occurs on the day after

the next chapter is going to reveal some pretty wild stuff so get ready my dudes