Chapter 11: Don't Tell Susan
Edmund stirred just before the sun began to lift above the horizon. He yawned and cracked his eyes open. As the dim outline of the surrounding forest came into focus, it took him a moment to realize that there were roots digging into his back. He groaned and let his eyes flutter shut once more.
He attempted to roll over, but found that a mysterious weight was pinning him in place. The faint scent of rose and peony drifted on the wind as he inhaled. Something silky and smooth tickled his face. He frowned and fully opened his eyes this time. He could have sworn he'd fallen asleep in the How last night. His eyes widened in shock as he finally registered that the weight pinning him to the ground was in fact Hermione. The events of yesterday flooded back and a jolt of adrenaline shot through him.
Shit.
Peter and Susan were going to murder him.
"Hermione," he whispered, shaking her shoulder with the hand not pinned beneath her. He clenched his fist, trying to get some of the blood flowing to his numb arm again. She didn't stir. He shook her again. She swatted his hand away as if it were a fly and mumbled something unintelligible. Edmund would have laughed out loud at her sleepy stubbornness if he hadn't been so terrified that Susan would discover them.
"Hemione, come on!" he muttered. He finally prodded her lightly in the ribs.
"Stop it Crookshanks…" she mumbled, rolling away from him. "I'll feed you in a moment…."
Edmund chortled unexpectedly. "What's a Crook shank?" he asked before he could stop himself.
"My cat…" she mumbled sleepily. Her eyes fluttered open. She turned and regarded him with confusion. "…Edmund?" There was a beat of silence and then she jerked away, suddenly registering who she was talking to. "Shit! Oh! Oh, I'm so, so sorry," she rambled.
"It's alright," Edmund said, still chuckling lightly. It had been a crazy night, but he couldn't help but feel lighter and more rested than he had since they came back. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I should have taken you straight to bed last night."
Hermione flushed.
Dammit, he hadn't meant it that way!
"I—er, I mean make sure that you got back okay, that is," he stammered.
Hermione cleared her throat, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have unloaded on you like that last night. It wasn't fair to you and erm-" She awkwardly gestured between the two of them. The pink tinge on her face darkened with embarrassment. Whether it was from her vulnerability last night or the fact that they'd slept together through the rest of it, he wasn't sure.
She pulled away, clearly quite eager to save face and pretend like it never happened at all. But Edmund didn't want to pretend it was nothing.
He tugged on her wrist so she couldn't fully slip away. Her eyes widened with surprise and he released her. He wouldn't make her stay if she didn't want to, "Sorry," he apologized gently, capturing her gaze. "And it was no trouble. I'd listen all over again if it meant you felt less alone."
She pressed her mouth into a thin line, clearly still a little doubtful, but she at last sat down again and turned her eyes to the horizon. The sky was a hue of blue so pale it was almost white; shafts of glimmering gold were starting to shine around the How and bounce off the trees, highlighting them in a warm bright green.
"If I didn't say last night," Edmund began, "I'm so very sorry for your loss…" The grass field looked as though someone set it afire. He could hear a few birds begin to sing in the distance.
"Thank you," she said, breaking the silence between them. Hermione turned and leveled him with a searching look, "And I'm sorry for yours."
How did she just know? He wanted to shut his eyes and hide from her. It unnerved him how the slightest touch, quietest word, or the most insignificant question from her left him dry in the mouth and arguing with himself whether or not to bare his soul for her.
She was like some plant he'd accidentally rolled in that caused him to break out into hives and an itchy sweat until he was forced to come clean. She was under his skin. An allergic reaction of the worst kind. The symptom of her was unflinching honesty with himself for the first time in nearly two decades. It was really throwing him off-kilter and driving him absolutely spare!
She mercifully released him from her magnetic gaze and turned back to the sky's changing colors. "I can't even begin to know how you and your family must feel to have lost so much."
He managed to nod, letting her know he'd heard her. Edmund couldn't bring himself to say anything else on the subject. The sparkling sunlight broke over the top of the How. Edmund stood up and stretched his arms out until his shoulders cracked pleasantly. He turned back to Hermione and offered her a hand.
"We should go, before Susan wakes the whole How looking for you. If anyone asks, we both woke up early and watched the sun come up together."
"That's what we did, Ed," Hermione pointed out, taking his hand. He pulled her up with more force than necessary, so that she nearly bounced onto her feet. The sound of his nickname rolling off her lips made his stomach flip unexpectedly. He forced the feeling away and into the farthest reaches of the very back of his mind for careful analysis at a much later date.
"Exactly," he said confidently. "The most convincing lies are rooted in the truth," he added sagely. "And if you don't want to face the wrath of my eldest sister for accidently sleeping together, you'll keep our story to just that."
"Are you threatening me, King Edmund?" she asked cheekily with an amused smile.
"But of course not, my lady. Merely imparting on you some of the wisdom that comes with having run a spy ring for the better part of my life." Edmund winked at her, and just as he'd expected Hermione let out a hearty laugh. He led their way back into the How with her hand tucked in his elbow.
When they arrived back at her room, they found Susan trying to wake Harry and Lucy with little success. Harry snored lightly in what was supposed to be Hermione's bed; he was still dead to the world.
Lucy slept across the room from him and she was curled up in a tiny ball like a kitten in a sun patch, only using up only a third of her bed. All of her blankets were gathered about her in a nest-like circle. Lucy always slept like that, even when she'd been grown. Edmund smiled at the sight and shook his head. He did wonder how she could possibly be comfortable, scrunched up like that. He preferred to sprawl out.
Peter was nowhere to be seen, but he'd always been an early riser and would consistently get up at least one hour before dawn during their reign, unless it was a special occasion. Edmund suspected that Peter was probably on his second cup of coffee that morning. Some habits really did die hard.
"I was just about to come looking for you lot!" Susan said, placing her hands on her hips. "Where've you been?" she scolded.
Susan eyed their rather disheveled appearances and glanced at Hermione, who was still in her thin nightdress. Hermione had the decency to look a bit abashed. Edmund sighed internally. Now she'd given Susan a reason to be suspicious. Hadn't she ever heard of keeping a poker face?
"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Susan asked gently.
"Like I could do with a few more hours of sleep to be honest," Hermione said. Edmund elbowed her in the ribs. Oh yes, tell her that you didn't sleep…brilliant. Just what Su needed, another reason to distrust their cover story. Susan's forget-me-not blue eyes blazed with suspicion as they darted between himself and Hermione.
The sharp pinch of Hermione's nails digging into the crook of his elbow made him grit his teeth. He plastered on a fake but relatively convincing smile. He tried not to squirm away from Hermione's iron grip.
Just then Peter came strolling up the hallway. He stopped outside the doorway. "I say Ed, I did wonder where you'd gotten off too." As suspected, Peter was already cleaned up and dressed for the day. He appeared wide awake.
"We were both up early, sister dear. We went for a walk and watched the sunrise," he relayed cheerfully. Susan's eyes narrowed to thin slits. He had laid it on a bit thick. She knew he was lying in some capacity, but after a moment she seemed to give up trying to suss out what was true and what was manufactured.
Susan huffed, crossed her arms and then after another second of intense scrutiny, she gestured over her shoulder for him to leave. "Go clean up, Ed. You're a right mess," she said as she brushed a few bits of moss off the back of his tunic. "We'll meet you for breakfast."
He raised his eyebrows playfully at Hermione and smiled. "I suppose those are my marching orders," he said lightly.
Hermione smirked. "I suppose."
Edmund grinned. "Enjoy the rest of your morning." He gave her a small bow. Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. Edmund brushed past his sister and let out a relieved breath. He'd gotten off easy this morning. He caught Peter's eye as he went. His elder brother bit back a smirk. Peter also knew he was hiding something. He followed Edmund down the corridor.
They walked a few paces out of Susan's range before Peter said lightly, "The sunrise, Ed? Really?" Peter plowed his burly shoulder into Edmund's.
"Oh, shut up!" Edmund barked, shoving Peter away from himself good naturedly. He broke into a run, in an effort to dart out of his brother's reach before Pete could slug him back. A deep rumbling laugh bubbled up out of Peter.
"I knew it!" Peter shouted triumphantly, chasing after him, "You like her!"
Edmund slowed to a walk and leaned up against the corridor wall while he waited for Peter to catch up to him. Peter was grinning like a Cheshire cat. "You two were looking rather cozy this morning," he said, eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he spoke.
Well, shite. So much from keeping it from the others.
"Oh," groaned Edmund, smacking the back of his head lightly against the wall in resignation. "Please don't tell Susan!" he begged. "She'll have my wedding arranged by nightfall!"
Peter busted out laughing and Edmund sent him a sheepish smile.
"So you do like her …out with it then! What's the real reason you slept together last night?" Peter probed, sounding far too pleased for Edmund's liking.
Edmund groaned again, "I wish you'd not say it that way! It sounds so…crass?"
Peter lightly thumped him on the shoulder impatiently. "Tell me!"
"Ow!" Edmund paused in his walk to rub his shoulder. "That hurt," he frowned. That really hurt actually. More than it should.
Peter rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be such a girl. I know you can take it. You've always had better endurance than me when it comes to the physical stuff."
Edmund winced at Peter's misplaced words. He was sure his face had gone bright red too. Honestly, Peter was oblivious sometimes. "Er," Edmund scratched the back of his head awkwardly, "Yeah…Pete there's definitely a reason I don't come and talk to you about this stuff."
"Come on! I'm not that bad, and I'm only trying to help."
"No, you're trying to satisfy your curiosity," Edmund corrected him drily. Peter tried to slap him lightly in the back of his head, but Edmund dodged automatically. "I don't really see how punching me in the arm and batting at my head like a kitten is supposed to make me feel better." Edmund said incredulously as he jumped into a defensive stance.
"It works with the other knights."
"Yeah, well they're thick, aren't they?"
"Edmund," Peter deadpanned.
"What?"
"I'm a knight."
"There you go then," Edmund quipped, jabbing at Peter's head. Peter sidestepped him.
"So are you, idiot!" Peter laughed and punched him in the shoulder once more. Edmund threw up his arms to protect his head and swiped at Peter's nose with his fist.
Peter dodged him. "Stop avoiding the question."
"Peter, stop beating on Edmund!" Lucy said lightly as she caught up to them in the middle of the corridor.
"How d'you know that he wasn't the one beating on me?"
She sent Peter a slightly withered look. Edmund smirked, happy she was taking his side. She was wearing a lovely sky-blue dress this morning. Blue always made her eyes sparkle like the Eastern Ocean. It reminded him of her very first Narnian gown. Edmund almost stopped his sparring long enough to tell her so, but Peter took advantage of his momentary distraction and cuffed him under the chin.
"S'alright Luce!" He swatted at Peter's chest only to be blocked from landing his blow by Peter's forearm. "I can take it," he replied cheekily, throwing his brother's words back at him with a grin.
Peter attempted to look offended, but only managed to look minorly agitated, given away completely by the crow's feet around his mirth-filled eyes.
"But it isn't. The two of you aren't grown like you used to be!" she chided sweetly. "We've got to build our way up to pulverizing each other again. Let that Narnian air sink in a little, right?"
"Our way?" Edmund said with an amused chuckle. "Think you could take us?"
"You know I could!" she snapped back, not missing a beat.
Peter laughed. "Now you've done it Ed!"
He'd missed the easy banter of their former life. He realized that it had been years since they'd laughed this way together. The shock of falling back through the wardrobe wounded and dimmed them all. For everything that they'd lost, he was glad they were back, even though it was costing him sleep and peace of mind.
"Nah, I don't believe it...you're such a pushover, sister dear," Edmund teased, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm afraid you would not hold up well under the humiliation of being so soundly beaten by us in a fencing match."
"Oh? And who was it riding into battle with Peter regularly the last few years of our reign?" said Lucy, for once sounding her proper age. He had to give her points for that. He'd been regularly tied up with more desk work towards the end at Miriam's request.
He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "If it's a matter of physical toughness, Lucy, fully grown you may have given me a run for my money, but you most definitely wouldn't hold up under torture!"
"And you would?" she shot back, mirroring his stance. A little smirk danced across her lips as she awaited his response.
"I have," he pointed out, not missing a beat. Lucy's face crumpled almost the second the words left his mouth. Edmund immediately regretted his words. Blast it all! He absolutely hadn't meant for it to come out like that. It was such a pain for their real selves to be subject to their adolescent hormones again! He sprang forward and wrapped her up in his arms, frantically trying to do some damage control. "Luce, it was a joke. I'm sorry!"
"But is it true?" she cried. Edmund shot Peter a slightly helpless look. Peter sighed and knelt down so he was eye level with their sister.
"Lucy…" Peter began firmly. "There's no good crying over things that have already happened. When you were younger, we kept things like this from you for a good reason. So you could grow up as innocent and happy as possible." Peter wiped a little tear from the corner of her eye. "Come on now, cheer up Lucy."
"Luce, it was a long time ago," Edmund added, "See? I'm fighting fit now. Peter's right, but I'll add to it that there's also no good worrying about what will come either. Okay?"
"Okay," she mumbled into Peter's shoulder.
"Go get some breakfast with Pete, yeah?" Edmund suggested, "Things are always better after a bit of food in your stomach. I'll see you down there."
"Food would be your solution to everything," Lucy grumbled.
Edmund smiled, "You know I'm right though, especially if it's Susan's baking."
"I suppose that's true…"
"It is. Now run along Dearheart," Peter said, "I won't be a moment."
Lucy dried her eyes and nodded. She took off sprinting down the hall.
"Bloody hormones!" Edmund muttered. "Wasn't it bad enough that we had to deal with it once?"
"Perhaps we'll do better with it the second time round," Peter said bitterly. He turned to Edmund and let out a great big sigh. "Do you ever think we protected her too much, Ed? Or did we not do it enough?"
"No. Absolutely not," he replied adamantly. "We let her grow into her valor best we could for the life we had here, and I'm glad she wasn't thrust into all that violence like you and I were, and even Susan for that matter."
"I never wanted that for her, you know, or any of you really. But eventually-I suppose war came for us all..."
"But at least it was because she chose it, Pete."
"She never should have had to in the first place. But, you're right of course... All the same, I do worry about the effect being away from Narnia so long has had on all of us, Lucy most of all. She's more Narnian than the three of us combined. The life she knew here was more than she ever remembered of England." Peter admitted, watching Lucy's fading form retreat.
"Honestly," Edmund said, "I'm more worried about Susan."
"Why?" Peter put both hands on his waist and looked back at him.
"That unending reserve of joy Lucy seems to have...she's so resilient. She'll get all of her bravery back. I'm not sure that Susan will."
Peter's eyes narrowed in confusion. Of course he didn't understand. Edmund had kept all that horrible business with Houghton from Peter when they fell back through the wardrobe. Edmund was the only one who ever saw Susan weak, who'd seen how fractured she was by the loss of her strength, the loss of Narnia.
For a moment Peter didn't say anything and then suddenly, his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. "What Trumpkin said...on the river...about being treated like a dumb beast long enough that they became them…"
Edmund also frowned, but nodded, trying to keep pace with Peter's abrupt subject change. "I feel like an idiot kid again, Edmund." Or perhaps it wasn't so random of a switch.
"Like I'm caught between being treated like the kid I look like to England and wanting to run off to war and be king again...even as I'm so tired trying to carry all of Narnia on my back...and I don't think I could handle it again...leaving...and forever being caught between two worlds. Always and never just a boy to one world and a mighty king to another."
Edmund didn't quite know what possessed him but the second Peter's doubt entered the atmosphere between them, he seized his brother around the shoulders like a crazed man.
"Don't ever doubt who you are to Narnia, Peter. To us. Do you hear me?" Edmund said ferociously, shaking him lightly. "You are the rock of this kingdom and our family. We need you, Narnia needs you and Aslan saw fit to make you our High King. And that doesn't just disappear because we're whipped around, world to world!"
Edmund took a deep breath and unclenched his whitened knuckles from around the collar of his brother's tunic. He released Peter slowly. He swallowed hard. If Peter couldn't hold it together, he wouldn't be able to either. He needed his brother to stay strong.
"I know your burden is a heavy thing, but that's what I'm here for, yeah?" he swallowed again. "And maybe Harry and Caspian too?" Peter scoffed lightly at the mention of Caspian and Edmund sent him a serious look. Finally, Peter nodded his understanding.
Peter took a deep breath and straightened his collar as his shoulders regained their strength. "Thanks, Ed."
"Don't mention it," Edmund replied seriously, and then an easy smile slid back onto his face. "And I mean actually don't mention it. You're not the only one who has to keep up a reputation around here! The last thing we need is any of our soldiers to think I've gone soft."
Peter cracked a grin and clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course not, since the greatest swordsman in all of Narnia obviously isn't a pushover."
"I resent that," said Edmund drily.
"Go on and clean up then, before Susan hunts the both of us down," Peter said cheerfully. Edmund smirked and set off toward their room. "Oh, and Ed!" Peter called after him.
"What?"
"Er-maybe don't mention my mental breakdown to-"
"-yeah I know," Edmund interrupted. "So long as you don't say what I accidentally let slip to Lu."
"So, we're agreed then?" Peter asked.
"-Don't tell Susan," they finished simultaneously.
Edmund headed off the opposite direction of Peter toward their shared room. Harry was going to bunk with Caspian and didn't seem much bothered about who he was with so long as there was a comfy bed. That boy seemed as though he could sleep anywhere.
He pushed the old oak doors aside and turned up the lamp in the room so it was less shadowed. Edmund cracked his neck side to side and stretched. Though he and Peter had roughed it many times camping, his English body was still unused to it and he ached all over this morning. He kneaded at a knot in his shoulder as he approached the wash basin.
He sighed with relief when the cool water hit his face, and quickly proceeded to peel off his moss and sweat-covered shirt.
He hissed unexpectedly, and his cleaning cloth found his arm. A large bruise was forming around his upper arm. He ran his hand over his left bicep, prodding gently at the oddly shaped bruise forming there. He winced. It was still quite tender. He racked his brain, trying to remember if someone had caught his arm while he was training last afternoon.
No sword bite to the skin looked like that though. Most bruises from training welted from the sting of the flat of Peter's blade. This looked like someone had dug their hand into his arm. And the color of it, purple and green round the edges. He was surprised that nothing had broken skin.
Not a training wound then. This morning? He and Peter hadn't boxed that hard. In fact, Pete hadn't once landed a blow to Edmund's left side. Was it from his odd episode with the minotaur? Surely not, he would have noticed it by now!
Edmund frowned, "Weird," he murmured to himself.
He scrubbed the rest of the sweat off his skin and pulled on a fresh shirt without giving it much more thought. For a life as active as he had, sometimes bruises just showed up out of nowhere...right? Of course, he didn't really remember the last time one looked as strange as this but he put it out of his mind and set off for breakfast with the others.
oOoOo
Hermione closed the door of the armory quickly and held the door shut as she slumped forward, leaning her forehead on her arm. She was so thankful that the How was as big as it was.
Harry peppered her with questions all morning about how she was feeling and fussed worse than Molly Weasley. Lucy kept trying to slip extra slices of toast onto her plate and Susan spent the whole meal shooting her odd glances. Peter was mercifully relaxed and chatted away to her without a care in the world. Edmund drained several cups of coffee silently from the sidelines watching her with an amused look on his face while she grew increasingly irritated with his sisters, Harry's fretting, and Peter's attempts to act like all was well.
Her peace was disrupted just as quickly by a low chuckle coming from behind her. Hermione jumped and wheeled around. She placed her hand on her wildly beating heart.
"Oh." She let out a deep breath. "Caspian, thank God it's only you! They were smothering me at breakfast! Can I please join you in your self-imposed exile for a bit?"
He stopped laughing. "I'm not—" he began to protest. His shoulders dropped and he didn't finish his thoughts. "I figured it was better if I stayed out of the way for a while."
"You didn't have to do that. But thanks."
He pulled on his boots and Hermione suddenly realized that he was dressing for a training session. She slowly approached him.
"So how does all of this work?" she asked, gesturing to the newly polished pile of armor laying at his feet. "There's so many pieces, how do you remember it all?"
"Oh, you get used to it," muttered Caspian.
"I am sorry I couldn't help you finish it last night."
Caspian tugged on a piece that covered his left shoulder and pulled the straps taut. "I heard you were unwell…and given the state of you last night, I am not surprised. Are you feeling better?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, though she was glad the news hadn't travelled too far. That would have been a terrible first impression to make on the Narnians. "It was a long day. I was overtired."
"Or overwhelmed…" Caspian said. "I should not have pushed you to speak about it."
"It's not your fault." Hermione sighed. "You had no way of knowing...but…are you sure that you've got the right Lady Gryffindor, Caspian? I know that you said there were stories, legends, lineages even...but I have no connection to the name Gryffindor, except the school I go to was partially founded by a Gryffindor. But it was hundreds of years ago, I have no way to prove I am who you think. And if it is true, then what am I supposed to do about it? What's the point? All I've got is your word and a blasted prophecy!" she rambled.
"You do not believe in prophecy?" Caspian asked.
"No," Hermione said, thinking about how mad Professor Trelawny's seemed half the time. Even magic had rules, divination went outside of every single one of them in her mind. There was no consistency! "I can't measure it, or test it, or see it, or touch it. I think we make our own way."
"Let me ask you this, do you believe that love is real?"
"Yes."
"But how do you know? You cannot measure it or see it."
"I can feel it," explained Hermione.
"But would you agree that your feelings sometimes lie about what is true?"
"Well, yes...but-"
"But nothing," Caspian interrupted. "We cannot know all things in the world. Our heads would explode. I do not know how it is that you came to Narnia with the Kings and Queens of Old, or how it is possible that they ruled a thousand years ago and are still so young. I do not know if Aslan is real or not, I have never seen him, but something or someone brought you here when our need was great." Caspian shrugged. "Sometimes the best we can do is to believe that things happen for a reason and that they will unfold as they should."
Hermione sighed and flopped down next to him. She folded her hands in her lap. "Why must these things be so complicated?"
"Ah, come on," he grinned easily, "We'd get bored if they were too simple, no?"
Hermione laughed lightly. "That's true. All the same, I still seek to understand it."
"As you should. You'd be a fool otherwise." He clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. He resumed checking over all of his armor for the day's training session.
Hermione sat quietly as he readied himself, trying to think about the best way to understand her place in Narnia. Suddenly Caspian's own words, about the records of Telmar's royal library, came back to her.
"Hypothetically speaking," she began cautiously after a moment, "if I needed to get into Telmar what would be the best way to do it?"
"No," said Caspian firmly, his tone shifting as the tide. He sheathed his sword with such force that the hilt snapped on the rim of the scabbard like a gunshot echoing throughout the armory. Hermione jumped slightly. "Absolutely not!"
Hermione's surprise quickly fled and she sighed with agitation. "Caspian," she pleaded, "please, you've got to understand. Even if I did believe everything you told me last night, I'm so out of my element here that I wouldn't have a shot in the dark at cracking this prophecy with so little to go on!"
He shook his head adamantly. "You cannot risk it. You would not last a day in that pit of vipers if I trained you for years. What if you got caught? It would be worse for you."
"You know if there was any other way, I'd try it! I don't relish the idea of walking into a 'pit of vipers' but we haven't exactly got very many options right now!" Hermione argued.
"And besides, wouldn't it be better if you had an inside woman? Someone to feed you vital information behind enemy lines?" She suggested, hoping it would bait him into further supporting her mad idea. He narrowed his eyes at her, silently calling her bluff. She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "You're smarter than I thought you were."
"You do not even know how to fight!" he argued. "How would you defend yourself if something were to go badly?"
"I have ways to protect myself," she replied earnestly. She had her magic; she knew that she'd be fine but she also knew that he didn't know that. She needed him to believe in her. "Just trust me with this," she pleaded. His stiff posture relaxed ever so slightly and his eyes softened. He was losing his resolve.
"I do not want to see you hurt," he finally admitted. "You are the first person here to really believe in me. I would be devastated if Miraz were to—"
Hermione's heart lurched with painful sympathy. "I'll be alright, trust me."
"One week," he assented. Her heart leaped in her chest.
"Two," she countered.
"Eight days."
"Ten days?"
He narrowed his eyes at her and for a moment the two of them stared one another down, waiting for the other to yield. Caspian sighed. "Ten days. That is it," he said, pointing at her sternly. "If you are not out by then, I am coming for you."
"No!" Hermione argued, "If you go near that castle again, you'll be dead by nightfall. You'll leave us leaderless and then where would we be? Narnia needs her king, Caspian."
"Fine," he ground his teeth, "then I'm sending the High King after you."
"But—"
"I've heard enough," Caspian said seriously. "Ten days or nothing."
He tightened the straps from his armor around his chest and shoved a second set of leather armor toward her. "This is Brigandine armor."
"Brigandine?" she asked.
"It's lightweight, a little better for everyday use or to travel in. Leather and iron in this case." He passed her a set of arm bracers too, and something that looked like it fit over her shoulder and chest. She reluctantly took it from him, silently making a note to herself to research the most effective types of armor for various combat. She wondered if Fred or George could come up with something as protective as dragon hide, just less expensive. "Most Telmarine women do not know how to fight. But you are no Telmarine."
"This is unnecessary, Caspian," Hermione argued.
"If you're going, you are doing it my way." He held it out to her as one would a coat. She glared at him lightly and shrugged it on.
"Happy?" she snapped.
"Yes," he replied cheekily. "Training field, ten minutes."
"But-"
Lucy barged through the door. Hermione and Caspian immediately ceased their arguing. Lucy's oceanic blue eyes swept about the room and landed suspiciously on the two of them. She didn't speak at first, clearly weighing how to handle the illicit situation before her.
"So, you're going then," she said directly to Hermione, eyeing the armor in her hands.
Hermione glanced at Caspian out of the corner of her eye. "Lucy, it's not what you think. I just need a bit of practice and Caspian agreed-"
"-It's exactly what I think," she stated earnestly. She looked between the two of them once more. "Oh honestly!" she threw her hands in the air, "You really think that I don't know you're plotting to go, Hermione? I'm the youngest of four!" she declared, "You wouldn't believe the number of times I devised a plan to go exactly where Peter forbade me and got away with it too!"
Hermione almost laughed at how much she sounded like Ginny at the moment, but she managed to keep her composure...barely. Caspian looked back at Hermione and shrugged, signaling to her that it was her decision whether or not to fill her in. For a split second, Hermione considered telling her.
An odd feeling settled in her gut. Hermione had been her age when she found out what the Wizarding World thought of her...something fiercely protective roared to life inside her chest and she just couldn't bear to tell Lucy that she was leaving. She was saved having to lie to her again by Susan's impeccable timing.
"Lucy!" Susan called as she also burst through the door. "There you are!"
Susan stopped short at the sight of Caspian and Hermione in armor. On second thought, damn Susan and her ability to show up when things were amiss. Hermione tried to plaster a neutral expression on her face, but she was seconds too late. "Lucy," Susan said tightly, "Run along to Peter."
The youngest queen clenched her jaw in annoyance.
"Lu…" Susan said with a hint of warning in her voice. Lucy sighed and slumped forward slightly. Susan tapped her shoulder and Lucy automatically straightened her posture with a huff and stormed out of the armory.
Susan turned to Hermione and Caspian. After a moment of blistering silence she folded her hands in front of her and said, "Do you honestly think that I don't know what's going on here?"
"Hmm?" Hermione feigned ignorance, desperately missing Harry's invisibility cloak in that moment. Her palms were beginning to sweat.
Susan rolled her eyes. "You're really going to have to do better than that if you're planning to infiltrate Telmar."
Hermione was sure that her eyes were as wide as saucers upon Susan's uncanny declaration. "How on earth-"
"Hermione, I know my brother is in danger and you're here to sort it out. I don't need the details, but I've been dealing with my siblings' secrets for nearly two decades and they still think I haven't a clue about half the things they've gotten up to or gone through in that time. No one keeps a secret better than I do. Would you like to know why?" Susan asked coyly.
"Why?" asked Hermione, feeling that she'd be told one way or the other.
"I'm the least suspicious of the four of us. I'm Queen Susan, the Gentle. Most dignitaries thought my job was to sit in my throne at Cair Paravel and look pretty while I waited for Peter to marry me off for some political alliance. I have to say I did a bang-up job of looking just that."
"I'm not here to just sit still and look pretty, Susan," Hermione said dryly.
"That's precisely the problem. If you don't play the part, you won't get what you want. Caspian himself already said it" Susan turned to him. "Telmarine women don't fight, correct?"
"Oh...I see," Caspian said, nodding his agreement.
"But I'm not a Telmarine," Hermione said, throwing her hands up, exasperated.
"Exactly."
"Sorry, I'm really not following you."
"You are already what they're expecting in a spy," said Susan. "A barbarian Narnian woman to come in swords flashing," Susan spat. Hermione suspected there was a story behind her comment, but wisely kept her mouth shut. "So you have to become what they won't expect."
"And what's that?" Hermione asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
"A lady," said Susan theatrically, throwing her hand up to her head and pretending to grow faint. She straightened up and primly added, "Which they won't bat an eye over because it's an everyday occurance for them to underestimate women in their culture."
"But you'll know how to fight," said Caspian with a firm nod.
"So I want them to underestimate me...to blend in," Hermione said slowly.
"Now you're getting it," Susan said with a smile. Here all along Hermione had thought that Edmund was the Slytherin of the Pevensie family. It appears the title of the most cunning went to Susan the Gentle instead.
"Well," Hermione said, a slow smile creeping its way onto her face, "I always did like a challenge. It could be fun…"
"Loads of it," Susan said with a sly smirk. "Now, come on. We've got a lot to do, and very little time to do it."
oOoOo
Hermione was nearly ready to collapse into bed after dinner but knew that she couldn't. It was quiet at dinner that night. Everyone wore themselves out after attending to various duties. Even Harry wasn't terribly chatty. Hermione was thankful for this as it helped her avoid giving too much away. She had a sneaking suspicion that if Harry had even an inkling of what she was planning, none of it would succeed.
Today had quite possibly been the hardest she ever worked in her life. After their discussion in the armory, Caspian kitted her out with a full set of well-sized and lightweight armor, aided enthusiastically by Susan who went through every single dress and garment she, herself, and Lucy had brought along from Cair Paravel. She selected the nicest pieces out and re-packed them for Hermione, along with everything else she may possibly need for her illicit trip to Telmar.
She spent three hours of gruelling swordplay and archery lessons with the pair, breaking only for lunch, before they whisked her off to see how much she remembered from her morning training session.
After training most of the morning with Caspian, Susan dragged her off to bathe and to give her a crash course in"princess lessons" as Hermione had dubbed them in her head. How to take her tea, how to talk to foreign dignitaries, how to flirt her way through a conversation without revealing how bored she was, how to do her hair for formal events, how to wear her makeup, how to sit, how to stand, how to eat, how to sleep.
Caspian joined them about two hours in to make sure she knew the basic steps to a Telmarine waltz and to school her on fighting close combat while wearing a dress. Susan taught her how to conceal a dagger in her dress, in her hair...and everywhere else that no one thought to look. How to fake a laugh, a fall, a fainting episode…
Hermione's head was spinning by the end of the day. Now here she was, gathering up her bags to haul them down to where Caspian was meeting them. At last Susan gave her a satisfied nod as she finished checking things over one final time. The elder queen slung a bag over her shoulder and followed Hermione out the door. They had an hour to midnight. Most of the How was asleep or would be by the time Hermione made her getaway.
"Promise me the second you get there to buy a few Telmarine dresses. They'll be more up to date and you'll blend in better if you have one or two." Susan passed her a pouch of gold and silver, firing off last minute instructions as they walked.
"I can't do that Susan," Hermione argued.
"You can and you will." Susan said. "Don't worry about how much you spend. There's plenty more where that came from."
They turned the corner. Caspian's shadowed silhouette leaned against the doorframe.
"Write if you need anything, but don't forget to use the cipher I showed you. I'll send a Robin every few days to check. She'll bring the messages straight to me or Caspian."
"Never go out of your room unarmed," Caspian added, picking up the pace alongside them. He handed her a small knife, which she immediately tucked away with her wand. "Lock your doors and windows in the evenings. I can't send an armed guard with you, so don't forget your cover story. The council is likely to shelter you at the castle, do not give them a reason not to."
"Is there anything you need me to keep my ears open to specifically, Caspian?"
"Anything pertaining to Miraz's plans for Beruna or to find me."
"Anything that will give us the upper hand, Hermione," said Susan.
"Now, I've written to King Nain of Archenland of our proposal. He's agreed to back you up if anyone comes asking strange questions. He's under Telmar's thumb just as much as we are and asked you to write if you have need of anything." Caspian handed her a small slip of paper and a letter. "There's not much he'll be able to do, but he does have a few connections in the city."
Hermione nodded and pocketed the letter.
"Transportation?" she asked.
"I floated the idea of flying you in on Branwyng, but she thought it may be too suspicious if you came in on a gryffin. You're better off riding," Susan said.
"I'd have you take Destrier tonight, but he'll be far too recognizable."
"Send me with Rowan," Hermione said suddenly. "I know him best. Edmund gave me lessons the other day and he was the one I trained with."
Caspian nodded, "I'll get him and meet you both at the stable in an hour." Caspian left her with Susan at last.
Silence hung between the two girls for a good fifteen minutes before the elder queen turned to her and released a great sigh. "How do you feel?" she asked.
"On edge, but ready," Hermione responded. "It's a bit like cramming for a test I imagine...not that I've ever done that before." She shrugged.
"Good," said Susan. She finished tightening a strap on one of Hermione's bags and stood up fully. "Erm, Hermione," she asked tentatively. "Before-I know I said that I didn't need to know the details, but-will you and he be alright?" Hermione stiffened, suddenly unsure of how to answer her.
"What do you mean, Su?" she asked softly.
"You and Edmund...are you in some kind of danger?"
"I…" Hermione was at a loss for something to say to reassure her.
Susan must have sensed her uncertainty and so crossed the room to meet her. Susan slid her fingers lightly along Hermione's upper arm, which she'd left uncovered, while packing due to the heat. It was covered with mottled bruises. Hermione flinched slightly. She had no idea where it came from, just a faint echo of a cruel voice and cold hands from the night before. She shivered.
"He has a matching one…" Susan explained, "I found out earlier this morning while you were off training with Caspian." She dropped her hand. "Ed hasn't slept a wink since we came back to Narnia and he has the tendency to suffer in silence. I know because I'm the same way. I'd rather be left to myself with my pain."
"That's not very healthy," Hermione replied gently.
"Says you, Miss Granger." Susan gave her a pointed look, and Hermione flushed at having been caught. "I was so worried for you last night...and I know something happened between you two."
"Susan, it wasn't-"
"You don't have to tell me, but whatever it is, it's all over you and Harry both. Ed's always been a good listener and he's got wisdom for days...I'm not surprised you confided in him. I'm glad really." Susan sighed and licked her lips as she thought. "And I think he needed it just as much as you did."
Hermione suddenly felt a rush of affection for the girl before her. She'd been almost aloof at first, but Hermione was coming to realize that her heart was in the right place, and she saw more than she let on, and she cared more than she said too.
"I wish I could say something to put you at ease," Hermione began, "to give a bit of peace and a bit of hope, but I don't know. Something's not right, I can't even begin to say what, I'm too new to Narnia...but I can...feel it...the silence here. It's…"
"Oppressive?" Susan suggested.
"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I can see the strain it's already put your family under, that it's put me under...Harry seems mostly unaffected, for which I'm glad. His life hasn't been easy the last few years," she admitted. "I'm worried about how he'll take it once he realizes…I just, I can't let him know. He'll try to come with me."
"Don't worry about Harry. We'll look after him," Susan said, placing a reassuring hand on her unbruised shoulder. Susan reached around Hermione to grab her bag from the bed. "I've got something for you." She rummaged around for a moment and was elbow deep in the satchel before she retracted her hand. Susan turned back to Hermione, her fingers wrapped tightly around a white ivory horn.
Hermione gasped. "Is that-?"
"I want you to take this," Susan said earnestly.
"I can't…"
"How many more times are we going to have a repeat of this conversation before you stop arguing with me when I give you something?" Hermione chuckled. "This horn has always brought me help when I've most needed it. It's done the same for Caspian, and I believe it will do the same for you."
Hermione closed her fingers around it and her hand was immediately enveloped with comforting warmth. She took a deep breath. "Thank you."
Susan nodded and wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug.
"-Hermione," Susan said abruptly. She paused her rummaging in the saddle bag and her gaze locked on Susan's forget-me-not blue eyes. They had an unnatural vibrancy to them that Hermione hadn't noticed before; it was almost eerie. If she had known Susan better and longer, she would have recognized that glimmer was one of fear.
"Yes?"
Susan steeled herself as if battling herself to get the words out. At last she took a deep breath and said, "Everything I told you...about being clever, kind, and polite even to win them over…" Hermione nodded. "Never be so polite that you forget your power." A shudder ran up the length of her spine and filled her with unexpected encouragement for the task that lay ahead of her. "May Aslan go with you."
"And with you…" Hermione whispered.
Caspian returned, leading Rowan behind him. "Ready?" he asked softly. She nodded and hoisted herself into the saddle on Rowan's back and spent a minute adjusting all the straps and reins.
"Be safe," Caspian said, patting her knee. She squeezed his hand, smiled, and nudged Rowan to go. If she didn't leave now, she'd lose her nerve.