Chapter 5

The light from the shooting stars could not last forever and when the brilliance faded, she found herself in someplace new-much to her disappointment.

Wet, brown sand was at her feet and she sighed at once more seeing a lack of diverse color. She waited for the fog to consume her mind again as it had before, like a suffocating wool blanket soaked with rain, but after one breath, she could still remember the beautiful ball of life that brought the stars to fall from above in a beautiful symphony. She took three more lung-fulls of air, feeling no relief when they had their fill but no pain or discomfort as well.

The sun.

She savored the taste of its memory on her lips and took several more breaths.

She didn't know how long she stood there. Eyes closed and just simply being, but when she did finally open her eyes, she could take in her surroundings with a mental clarity she previously hadn't had.

She stood on the beach of a small islet, looking out to a large looming wave that endlessly strived to crest and curl inwards and down. It was a curious sight. One that made no logical sense in her mind-with a voice that sounded an awful like her older sister Susan—and inspired no fear in her at having thousands, perhaps millions of gallons of water poised potentially at her end.

This was a place of divide. A crossroads. She had never been here before, but she knew that if she went up and over, she would go to a place of no return. The end but also the beginning of something wondrous and peaceful. She really desired peace. If she went though, her sacrifice would have been for nothing. She was self-aware enough to recognize the vanity and pride at that thought. She took her mission from Commander Havershom because they needed to confirm once and for all the rumors coming from the continent. Horrific tales of death camps and fires built so tall that they could consume hundreds and the resulting ash raining down blanketed miles. A terrible practice that was creeping its way West through the continent via France and only a short jump to England.

She took the job because someone had to do it and she wanted to be useful. Self-importance hidden behind duty and noble sacrifice. If she could feel anything physical right now, she would probably feel her stomach turn into self-disgust.

It was over now though. Whether she lived or died, it didn't matter. The rumors were true, and though she didn't know how long she had been where she was, she knew it was probably long enough to be left for dead. The thought gave her pain for her family—her wonderful strong brothers who raised her and supported her more than her own father could, her beautiful and kind sister who struggled and found good in their world and guided her to do the same, and her cousin who struggled to speak but whose character sang to the heavens. She loved them so much and mourned her loss. She didn't want to be the cause of more pain for them.

She didn't have to die though.

She stopped breathing, although it didn't do much for her at the moment, to let that thought be heard. She didn't dare hope yet but…could she? She hadn't gone yet. Up and Over.

Maybe…

She dared to look over her shoulder. More ocean stretched behind her but something was coming. Something that would split the seam separating water and blue sky. It was bright where she was and vibrant but bereft of a light source. The sandy beach beneath her was pristine like someone had taken a fine comb and arranged each grain into perfect alignment and the particles by size. The wave before her was clean and blue, the froth was white and she could imagine that it would taste sweet and fresh. The sky above was baby blue with not a cloud to mar its perfection but…there was no sun…illogical, her sister's voice said again, and she almost wanted to smile.

She continued to look longingly, waiting patiently, until the ball of light that she vaguely remembered from a before split the seam and arrived in glory again.

Two choices, she understood. Go up and over and rest, or back and in and live.

She closed her eyes, and blindly took her first step. A voice was calling to her and told her to believe and have faith. Her story would be told. She smiled. Who was she to ignore the voice?

Breathing in and out in perfect synchronization with the gentle rise and fall of whatever cradled her weary head, she closed her eyes and took in the beautiful sound of the trees being rustled by a gentle breeze, and the waves of the Great Eastern Ocean crashing gently upon the cliffs of Cair Paravel. She felt so warm. She listened to the gentle breeze and reveled in the soft rays of the sun above her. The blue of the sky was deep. It was vast and warm. It was…was…was…

She started to feel cold again, the black darkness of the world from before started to creep along the edges of her senses. The grass beneath her hand blackened and shriveled with death and the thick mud oozed a greasy slime that got stuck under her fingernails and swallowed her forearms. The ooze grew and morphed from the cool earth to leach her blood and fill her veins with ice. It latched on to her leg with a wet and sticky plop.

It felt like death.

The chill started to creep up her leg to her knee. To her thigh. Breathing was getting increasingly difficult.

ROAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR

She gasped and jolted awake, her eyes grew alert again and the cold receded and shrank away to the edge of the empty space she was in-always on the fringe and just out of reach. She sat up, breathing heavily.

…Lucy…

'That voice…'

…Lucy…

'There it is again!' She staggered to her feet and spun around in a circle, trying in vain to see what apparently could not be seen. The ground beneath her feet began to shake and tremble, and she fell to her knees to hold the grass with all her might. Great crashing rolls of thunder sounded around her ears and she grew frightened. Desperately, Lucy hunched over into a ball and clasped her hands around her head and squeezed her eyes shut. 'The world is ending,' she thought trembling with the very world around her. She felt like she would fall apart with the earth, so great was the movement around her. She stayed huddled in a ball for what felt like quite sometime before the great movement finally ceased.

She stayed still on the ground. Hunched down and holding her head tight and with her eyes scrunched closed like a child and trembling something fierce. Lucy opened her eyes slowly; one hesitant eye opened, and then the other. She was back on the fields of Narnia that gave a spectacular view of Cair Paravel. The sound of waves crashing on the shore filled her ears again and she breathed a sigh of relief, leaning back onto the softly waving grass and wildflowers and watching the clouds and trees dance in the sky and earth. A shadow fell over her body and she looked up.

'Hello…Aslan.'

The Seven Isles is an interesting place well suited to its reputation. Located off the Northern coast of Ettinsmoor, the islands were a collection of two small islands and five little sandy islets connected by hand-built wooden boardwalks and treehouses and a general desire for lawlessness only coveted by those sought by the various laws of the world, and who wished to set foot on land for a time and enjoy a pint of ale and bought company in rowdy peace.

At one point, the islands were Narnian, but when the Great Winter began, the White Witch's fear of Aslan who hailed from beyond the Eastern Ocean, led her to cut off all ties between the country and its territories. Due to this, the islands were largely abandoned and left for grabs for anyone who wanted them—though why anyone would is rather questionable. They are largely barren wholly unsuitable for farming or trade due to the islands being too far out of the way of most countries and too far north for any great agricultural works. The only ones who would benefit from the islands would be the Giants of Ettinsmoor, but they have no navy and why on earth would they leave their spacious mountains for a spot of land not large enough for them to begin with?

The most law and order the islands saw were when they were used as a mooring point for the Narnian navy to stand by on while the four Kings and Queens negotiated peace with the Giants of Ettinsmoor (just in case negotiations went pear-shaped and war broke out and reinforcements and supplies for a long and tedious expedition were required).

Thus the careered criminals of the world descended upon the small seven isles with little to no fuss and made it their own. It is now a real veritable and unwashed den of thievery, piracy, and debauchery, and any honest man sailing the great Eastern Ocean knows to stay as far away from the islands as possible unless they wished to be made targets to the many inhabitants who called the Seven Isles "home". Ale flowed freely with short tempers so brawls were an expected part of life, aided in part by the open and welcome commodity of prostitution on the islands—to the point that the taste of blood and ale mixing together was referred to as 'bitter sevens'.

Caspian and his men carefully watched their step as more than one brawling duo rolled into their way as they skipped from one isle boardwalk to the next as they traversed their way to the largest tavern on the second isle.

'Well, it certainly earns its reputation.' Caspian mused, seeing one man doing his best to drown himself in ale and three other men cackle lifting a very dirty woman's skirt above her knees while she tugged on the shortest man's whiskers. Caspian felt a blush start to rise on his cheeks and pulled his cloak farther down his forehead and looked away. There had been a great deal of debate on the Dawn Treader on who would accompany Caspian and Edmund to seek information and who would stay behind to protect the ship a little-ways off-shore.

The Dawn Treader was too regal a vessel in appearance to not attract unwanted attention to fortune seekers, so they had taken a dingy to land on the southern-most island boardwalk which greatly limited the number and breadth of who came with the two royals. After much bickering among Drinian and Caspian, it was decided that Captain Drinian, the minotaur Jemain, and Reepicheep would go ashore with Caspian and Edmund when it was dark.

More originally planned to go ashore but the size of the dingy and the necessity for blending into the crowd and ruffians negated that plan. Drinian was sea-weathered and scowled enough daily to look suitably menacing to the crowd and Jemain, being a minotaur, carried a large Kopesh sword that gave him a very frightening appearance as well which made the two of them perfect escorts for the two Kings. Edmund had a rather gruesome scar on the side of his face that when coupled with his world-weary eyes lent him well for blending into the masses and driving away talkative patrons.

Caspian on the other hand…well, even after trading clothes with a crewman and growing out his beard for the week it took them to reach the isles, he still had the air of refinement only seen in well-bred persons about him, so Edmund tossed a dark cloak about his shoulders and told him to keep his head down.

The group passed more brawls, wild partygoers, and teasing fingers and catcalls from heavily painted men and women in ill-fitting dresses before finally stepping foot into the largest building on the second isle. Inside was slightly more orderly with live music, hearty laughter, boisterous conversation, and no brawling to be had thankfully. They slinked off along the edge of the room to a small table in the corner and sat themselves down on some barrels posing as chairs. A barmaid came by with some tankards of ale and quietly placed them in front of each man and minotaur.

"Anythin' else?" she yelled out over the cacophony of the room.

Caspian palmed some coin from his purse for the drinks and held them out to the woman to take. The woman raised an eyebrow at the full purple purse seen slightly at his waist. Caspian cleared his throat and placed the coin on the tray the woman used to bring the drinks. Drinian declined the offer for them and the woman went away after giving a small frown and an order to holler if they changed their minds. They nursed their tankards and tried to only make small faces of disgust at what was in their cups. Reepicheep poked his head from Caspian's cloak and cast his gaze over at the crowd.

"By the Mane, what is this made of? Tastes like piss." Edmund placed the tankard down fully and rubbed his eyes with his hands. Jemain, feeling a little awkward being seated next to the King of Old choked a bit on his snort and muttered his agreement quietly.

"Good thing we're not here for the drinks then, aye?" Drinian managed a few more swallows of the brew before placing the cup down.

Caspian threw a look at Edmund over the rim of his tankard. "How do you know what piss tastes like Ed? That sounds like personal experience to me." He took a large gulp and held his breath after to help keep it down and smacked his lips a little in Edmund's direction.

Edmund kicked him under the table. "I will neither confirm nor deny Cas, but this I will loudly declare to definitely not being ale." Edmund flicked the tankard with his fingers and hunched over his crossed arms on the table, looking around as well.

Caspian resisted the urge to rub his shin and kick back at him and instead chose to glare out at the crowd. "Well, what does everyone think? See anyone that might be able to tell us?"

"Our best bet is to mingle with the crowd and make friendly or join a game. See any dice or cards out? I'm pretty good at Sabacc and if we find a low-baller game we won't draw as much attention to that nice fat purse the barmaid saw on you." Edmund leaned back and made a relaxed stretch of his back with his arms, hitting Jemain lightly on the shoulder in an effort to make him relax a bit. It didn't help but Jemain at least placed is hands on the table again rather than keep them between his furry knees like a nervous schoolboy.

'Shit.'

"Do you think she'll cause problems?" Caspian tried to spy the woman out in the crowd and hoped she would simply look to ply as much patronage from them as possible instead of having someone cut their throats and rob them blind.

"Hopefully not. But it's best to conduct our business quickly and not linger." Edmund held out his hand and Caspian placed a few coins as subtly as he could into the waiting palm.

Edmund saluted the bunch with his mostly full tankard. "Sailors of fortune, I'm off to lose the lot. Try to not have fun without me." Drinian, Caspian, and Jemain saluted him back and Edmund left to find a game.

"I suppose we should get started as well." Reepicheep piped up quietly from under Caspian's arm. Drinian collected the empty tankards and went off to flirt with the barmaids guarding the barrels while Caspian and Jemain wandered to the large fireplace under the pretense of warming their hands and enjoying the music. It only took a few minutes of waiting before Drinian came back with some crusty bread and cheese to soak up the ale in their stomachs.

"Courtesy of the lovely ladies of the barrels!" Drinian declared. They chuckled and used their belt knives to toast the bread in the fire.

"What'd they say?" Caspian asked quietly.

"They didn't know much, unfortunately, but they did say that a Captain Windmear had come from the Lone Isles not that long ago. Short fellow, has a long red feather in his hat. Likes to gamble."

"Sounds promising to me, sire." Reepicheep crawled from Caspian's crouched legs and hopped into Drinian's saddlebag so that he could have some cheese and toast as well.

"Agreed. Do you see Edmund, Jemain?" He handed the minotaur a slice from his belt knife. The minotaur was a clear two heads above the crowd so he had the best view.

"Aye, sir, and the red feather too." Caspian had to smile at that. Seems like Edmund had some good luck and was already playing against the man they wanted. They made one last toastie and made their way to the card table that held only four players.

"Oy, Ed. They bleed you dry yet? Here." Caspian pulled a nearby chair over and sat behind Ed's left shoulder to indicate he wasn't joining the game. Ed rolled his eyes and accepted the cheesy bread being stuffed into his mouth by his friend. "Prihh" he mumbled around the bite.

"I ain't as bad as you. You can't bluff for shit." He rearranged the cards in his hands and tossed a white pebble into the center bowl.

"Seriously though, how much you lose us? I'd like to have a decent meal at some point tonight and we can't do that if you squander it all." Caspian continued to rib Edmund's pride a little but made himself more comfortable in his seat, indicating to his friend that they didn't need to leave just yet.

"Yer friend is gonna lose every bit o' coin on his person terday I'm afraid. He's lost the last two rounds." A voice piped from the other end of the table. Glad that the man had taken the bait and started speaking, Caspian could now look at the man without drawing unnecessary notice.

Captain Windmear, like all ocean-bred men, had weathered and sun-kissed skin but unlike many renegade sailors, his red beard was trimmed neatly and shaped around his mouth and chin. He had a large fine leather hat on his head that was decorated by a plumed red feather and had many rings on his hands. Only one or two looked to be actual gold or silver but his clothes were well made though sweat-stained and well worn. A successful pirate then. Unlike the popular tales, piracy didn't bring much wealth to the men who participated but this man had clearly had some success in his career.

Drinian pulled a chair up and sat fully at the table, "Looks like I better join in then. Lady Luck doesn't withhold her love from ye often but when she does ye lose big, lad. Best to see if she likes me more instead so we can eat tonight."

The fourth card player—Captain Windmear's first mate—dealt Drinian in and handed him some pebbles with a mean grin. "We ain't going ta be easy on ye just cuz yer bellies are empty."

Drinian gave a scowl back, "Didn't expect otherwise."

Edmund made a show of throwing his cards down in disgust. "No respect even from my supposed friends! You'll get your meal soon enough! It's not like the captain is looking to leave at any point tonight. I've got plenty of time to make back the lot!"

Captain Windmear seemed to find the three of them to be very amusing. "Where bouts ye from anyway, laddies? I don't know yer faces or yer names, perhaps I know yer captain?" Windmear's voice was smooth and soft, the kind that could weave lovely sea-tales or croon a tune. He had all his teeth and a smattering of coal around his eyes to help with sun glare and Cas could see that the sclera of his eyes was a bright white. Caspian found this very interesting-this man was in pretty good health and hygiene and when coupled with his monetary success, it is possible that this man could have come from a wealthy family at some point and received an education. They will have to be careful—learned men are more observant than otherwise.

Caspian gave an easy-going answer, "Terebinthia under Captain Stillwell if you know 'im. We usually make birth at the beginning of the third month but there's sickness about the land currently and we needed to cool our heels from some interested parties so we thought to try here. I'm Cas, this is Ed, that's Drinian, and the tall furry bloke is Jemain." It wasn't a total lie, Terebinthia was currently going through a plague that had prevented the Dawn Treader from mooring during the first month of their journey and a captain Stillwell did exist—he was just a humble fisherman that offered Caspian some directions while he was repairing his nets in Galma instead of a black privateer though. Nods were given and received all around and the game continued.

Captain Windmear said he didn't know the man and asked what they were in the market of. Ed let out a ha of success and slammed a pair of cards on the table. Windmear's man groaned and tossed three black stones into the center bowl and Drin growled and tossed two of his own.

Caspian kept his attention on the captain who had folded his cards over and seemingly withdrew from the game to talk—he seemed to find Caspian just as interesting as Caspian found him. Caspian gave an easy shrug. "We're couriers," he said, "bloated dandies hire us to cart about their goods and conduct their side businesses for them at a lovely price."

Windmear leaned forward and nodded in polite interest. "Smuggling is a lovely pursuit and easy coin to be sure. Any fat dandies I would know yer carting for?"

Caspian had to admire the audacity, no self-respecting pirate would reveal the loot and patronage of their ship to another pirate who may rob them blind. Windmear must think they were naïve idiots to be exploited. Jemain snorted rather rudely behind his back and Drinian's saddlebag gave a small shiver—no doubt Reep was feeling that to be a very egregious insult to their honor—fake smuggler or not.

"Now my good captain, you really think we'd tell you such privileged information? I'm not quite as green as I look young." Caspian flagged down a passing barmaid and got another round of drinks for himself and his party—being careful to not show his purse at all this time. Windmear laughed and leaned back in his chair pushing it on its back legs and resting an ankle on the edge of their table, Caspian tried not to wrinkle his nose when he saw that there was some dung on the bottom of his heel.

"Nay lad, I didn't think ye would and I meant nothin' by it either. I've been thinkin' about my crew's next venture and smuggling has popped into me head once or twice, but that business needs an in so to speak by way of introduction to the fat purses. Yer Captain nearby to speak with perhaps? I'd like to make his acquaintance."

Caspian gave a closed-mouthed smile, "Perhaps. He's lookin' abouts for some information on our next destination—the Lone Islands. I may be able to bring it up with him if you've heard anything."

Windmear hmmmed and scratched his beard. "Aye, I heard some interesting things comin' from there. They say the governor's a slovenly cod but the trade's been booming. Calormen gets lots of strong bodies from those parts."

"Slaves." Ed piped up, grabbing a card from the deck and adding it to his hand and rearranging the lot of them. Caspian raised an eyebrow. Slavery was outlawed in Narnia and her territories centuries ago, only the Calormen Empire still allowed and openly delved into the practice in the known world.

"And the Narnian king does nothing? I thought slavery was outlawed in those parts." Caspian's jaw clenched at Edmund's words. It should be outlawed.

Windmear's first mate snorted. "Narnia hasn't had a navy in centuries. Those Telmarines fear the ocean so much that they haven't had any contact with the Islands in decades. Good luck to that spoiled brattling they call a king. The Lone Islands have been under their own law for decades—they won't take kindly to a new overlord, even a little one like this new king." He spat on the ground.

Caspian couldn't help but agree and felt some more weight fall on his shoulders. Cleaning up the Islands would be a mess, especially if the economy depended on the sale of men after centuries of neglect by the Telmarine kings. Drinian's bag shivered again and Drinian gave it a tap, pretending to shake one of the many bugs flying about off his hand.

"Time will tell I suppose," Edmund sighed and gave an unassuming half smile and placed a pebble in the bowl in the middle of the table. Plop. "As long as we can make it into the Lone Islands without some official garrison or other to bother us it doesn't matter whose palm we have to grease." He tossed his final hand onto the table to end the game. The stones were counted and mutterings were heard and coin was handed about to the winners, Drinian and Windmear's first mate. Edmund grumbled about shit cards and swallowed the last of his ale in a large gulp. Caspian slapped his back in commiseration and the three of them stood up.

"My thanks friends, will you be about the rest of the night? I will tell my captain what we've heard and see about an introduction." Windmear was picking the bottom of his shoe with his short knife and nodded at the party.

"Aye, lad. We'll be abouts, just don't forget yer promise now." He gave a toothy grin at the men and chuckled. "And I'd be very careful while yer on the islands if I were ye. Ye've drawn attention ter yourselves."

Suddenly, Caspian noticed a strange-looking and weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the far wall next to them, looking intently their way. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a short pipe that was clumsily carved. His legs were stretched out before him, caked with mud and clad in tall worn boots. His cloak was ratty and pulled low and overshadowed his face but the gleam in his eyes could be seen as he watched them speak with Captain Windmear. Jemain's grip on the handle of his sword tightened and he shifted from hoof to hoof.

Edmund huffed, seeing the same man as Caspian. "Don't see why. We're just weary travelers looking for a little break before going our way again. We're not looking for trouble."

"I've no doubt laddy, but unfortunately fer you, yer made a mistake." Captain Windmear placed the tip of his knife on the tabletop and spun it about its handle like a top.

"And what's that?" Caspian kept his tone light and his face friendly, but the grip he had on Edmund's shoulder tightened as he began to see more and more faces turn their way and hands moving to their coats.

Windmear was really enjoying himself now. His eyes were beginning to look rather wide as if he couldn't wait for the climax of the show after the lead actor's masterfully performed soliloquy. The air in the room stilled and even the musicians in the corner were being rather lax in their tune—every eye was on them now. "You see, we don't get many Narnians in these parts. No Minotaurs, no wee talking beasties that I have no doubt like to be carried in saddlebags, and no—" he waggled his fingers and one of coins they gave the barmaids appeared in his hand, all shiny and gold, "Narnian lions and trees, which makes me think yer not from Terebinthia and yer not smugglers and yer worth far more to us as a bounty than as a future business partner." He tossed to coin up, caught it, and placed it in his pocket.

"So sorry about this lads," he shrugged with a neglectful manner, "it's just good business."

Drinian and Jemain all unsheathed their swords and Reepicheep crawled out of the saddlebag and onto the floor, his naked blade about as well. Caspian and Edmund gave each other looks out of the side of their eyes and Caspian spoke aloud what went through both their minds…

"Shit"

All hell broke loose.

"I'd dreamed about you so many times…Was any of it real?"

Aslan laid down beside her and she could feel the warmth coming from him trying to seep into her but she shied away from it. She could not seem to feel warm and while she yearned for it so badly, a part of her did not want too either. She felt cold and she felt like that was all that she knew. Warmth…Aslan. It all seemed like a distant memory or a dream. Naïve-like. A child playing games in the afternoon sun and in the backyard of a childhood home that fell to ruins long ago. This made her angry.

"I was always there, Dear One." His voice brought tears to her eyes but they weren't from joy—a cursed betrayal surged through her like fire and she felt stronger than ever before. She wanted to scream. So, she did.

"That is a lie! Don't tell me you were there because you weren't! I couldn't feel you! I couldn't see you! And if you were, then that means that you let them hurt me! That you were powerless to help me! Or that you didn't care! You are so great Aslan but you didn't do anything! You—"

She turned to him fully and the raging inferno within her burned even hotter when she met his gold eyes that knew all and were yet unflinching at her pain. In that moment, she truly knew hate and she hated Aslan. She screamed as loud as she could something unintelligible at the sky. It was a good thing there were no birds at this fake embodiment of Cair Paravel or they all would have taken flight. Aslan let her rage, let her express her grief and took every insult to His name and accusation she threw at Him and waited for the flames to burn out. When they finally did, she curled up into a little ball again and shivered with tears and that awful consuming coldness again.

"You didn't care Aslan…"

"I always care Little One, but all creatures big and small have free will to enact on themselves and on others, and though I may cry out at the atrocities Man commits on fellow Man, I can never take away their agency. Your world is in turmoil and more and more, people turn away from my Father and do not listen to my Voice crying out inside them. The pain and anger and rage bleed into the lands with every drop of spilled blood and poisons all around it. It is through people like you, who try so hard to find good and fight for what is right and cling to hope, that the illness of despair does not consume your world entirely."

"I'm done fighting though. It hurts too much—I gave too much! I can't keep being who you want me to be Aslan, I'm sorry!" The sobs grew harder and she shook violently. "Take my burden away! I can't handle this anymore!"

Aslan's great paw knocked her backward and her body collided with His. Her face pressed into his fur and He purred loudly until her shaking was overcome by his own. She continued to cry until she had no more tears left and Aslan stayed with her and waited.

"You have a great capacity for love, my Little Lioness, and even if you tried to turn your back on others and yourself you would still be YOU. You could never escape that burden because it is not a true burden. You may feel the weight of what is right but you never carry it alone. I am with you and so are those who love you dearly. You will never be alone to carry it all and I do not expect you to. The burden you carry is one of your own making. The hate, pain, anger, and resentment that were created when you were attacked by the Gestapo. If you do not wish to carry it, then leave it in the past behind you or allow others to carry the weight with you until you are ready to leave it behind."

Nothing was said for a while. The two of them sat together on that great grassy hill over-looking Cair Paravel. She thought about His words all the while. Her heart pushed against them. A part of her sneered at His words. She didn't need His council. A larger part of her felt relief and wanted to believe that she wasn't alone. That this wouldn't define her. That they hadn't destroyed her. They had changed her, yes, but such was the nature of life and of war. In the end, she was the one who had all of the control. It was exactly what Aslan had said—agency. Why should she let those soldiers continue to control her soul?

Longer still, she pondered and Aslan stayed with her and offered her the comfort she had desired for so long while trapped in her mind and the keening noise of her soul began to feel warm again. Slowly. She may never be the same as she once was. But with a lot of care, she may be able to look in the mirror and recognize the face looking back at her again. One day, she can say that she was Lucy again.

"Well this is just rotten!" Edmund yelled at him as his back slammed into Caspian's. Both of their chests heaving and their swords wet with blood.

"Oh no really? You don't say? What gave it away?!" Caspian threw back at him, kicking a man hard in the solar plexus and shoving him back into two other fellows behind him.

"Duck!"

Caspian crouch low and a barrel flew over both of their heads and into a portly gentleman that was red with liquor and bloodlust. The wood splintered to pieces and the two of them took advantage of the path it made and fought their way towards Drinian and Jemain. Caspian parried a broad sword and threw a left hook at the fellow next to him.

Finally, they consolidated their group once more. "Where's Reepicheep?!" Caspian yelled at his captain, dodging a glass bottle. Thankfully, some of the patrons of the bar were so drunk that they turned on each other and began attacking anyone that moved. The whole tavern was in an uproar. No one could tell anymore who they were fighting or why, just that so-and-so knocked into them and such-and-such was biting their buddy's ear off.

"I say, we get out of here and book it as fast we can to the ship!" Drinian yelled.

"Agreed Captain! But where is Reepicheep?! We aren't leaving him behind!" Edmund grabbed a glass bottle that was still standing on the table next to them and slammed it on the head of a bloke brandishing a large Warhammer. The man went down and groaned.

"Here Sire!" The three of them looked up and there was Reepicheep swinging on one of the wrought iron light fixtures. Swinging his short, thin sword with finesse upon the heads he past over. One by one, men fell to his sword and the noble mouse flipped off the makeshift swing to land in front of his kings and attacked the nearest ruffian in the ankles.

"Well done, Reep! Jemain! Find us an exit! When we get out of here, bolt for the ship!"

Jemain found the closest exit quickly and barreled ahead to make a path. The group of five exited the tavern and ran quickly to the little islet where they housed their dingy. They could still see the shadow of the Dawn Treader in the distance some ways offshore and they all breathed a sigh of relief once they were rowing back as quick as they can. When the group was fully safe on board, they all fell into a pile on the deck, chests heaving and legs and arms shaking from all the work they went through. Looking at each other, the adrenaline began to leave them and Edmund fell into a hysterical fit of giggles that turned into an uproarious laugh. The crew members crowded around them looked at one another in bewilderment. The king of old was covered in glass, pale ale, blood, and mud, and he was laughing like a loon.

"Edmund?" Caspian wasn't laughing. You alright?"

Ed's face had shed years of hardship and looked younger than he had looked since joining the crew, even the side of his face that tugged downwards with his scar took a jolly appearance.

"Heh heh, they were still playing hah hah," Edmund slapped a hand over his mouth and tried to pull himself together to talk. "The musicians. They kept playing their instruments! Through all that! Even when one bloke went right over their heads! They kept playing! The fiddler just ducked!" He flopped completely onto his back and laughed even louder than before.

Caspian stared at Edmund, then looked at the rest of his worn party. They looked at him then each other, then Edmund, and all five then burst into laughter as well as did the crew. It took several minutes for everyone to calm down and Caspian ordered some rum to be brought out so that they could toast their success in escaping the dreaded pirate den. After a jolly cup and silent pats on the back from Eustace, who had crouched down by his cousin's side as Edmund put his head between his knees to gain some equilibrium again, Edmund raised up and he and Caspian clasped forearms heartily.

"It's good to fight by your side again, Edmund." Caspian said.

"Aye, it's good to fight with you as well, Caspian. It's been a while since I've been in a scrap like that." Edmund let out some chuckles again before growing serious once more. "I'm afraid that venture was a complete waste though. We should have just tried our luck going to the Lone Islands instead of going there first. I'm sorry I agreed to it."

Caspian shook his head. "No Edmund, I shouldn't have dragged you all there. It was more risk than we should have done. Besides, it may not be a complete waste."

Edmund nodded, his brow growing stern. "The slave trade in the Lone Islands."

Caspian sighed with exhaustion and accepted the cup of water and wet rag from a sailor. "Slavery in my kingdom. In Narnia. I shouldn't be surprised, with how much neglect my forefathers committed and with how close the Islands are to Calormen but damnit all. Did you have this issue in your time? From the Islands or is this more recent?"

Edmund accepted a wet rag from someone and wiped his face and hands before wiping his sword clean. "No. Not this blatantly at least. The White Witch feared the Eastern Ocean like the Telmarines, sure, but the Lone Islands were always Narnian and the people kept close ties with us and our customs even when the country was under Jadis' rule. Slavers would often try to raid the Lone Islands and coastlines of the mainland for slaves, but we built a strong navy and garrison to patrol the areas. I don't even think the Seven Isles were as populated as we saw today in our time either. Lucy—"

Edmund paused in his cleaning and swallowed, "Lucy was the one who often directed our naval force to fight pirates and clear out their dens, and to disrupt slave routes. Peter trusted her in such matters. She was excellent—is excellent—when it comes to coordinating such missions."

"It would be a blessing to have her council right now." Caspian whispered. His heart felt heavy once more, thinking of the young woman asleep in his bed below them who wasn't expected to wake anytime soon.

Edmund nodded stiffly, "Aslan will come. Or he'll reach her from afar and help her. He would never let Lucy suffer." It seemed like he was telling himself more than Caspian.

"Get some sleep, Ed. We'll talk more tomorrow and come up with a plan for how we'll deal with the Lone Islands in a week."

Later that night, Caspian struggled to sleep even though he felt so bodily exhausted from the evening's events.

'Good luck to that spoiled brattling they call a king. The Lone Islands have been under their own law for decades—they won't take kindly to a new overlord, even a little one like this new king'

'He's right. I'm not like Edmund and I'm not like Peter. They are great kings who accomplished so much and I'm just some Telmarine-born prince. My ancestors destroyed Narnia and ignored the Lone Islands for centuries. They won't listen and I don't know what to do…'

He drifted off into sleep.

"Should we follow 'em, Captain?" The strange-weather-beaten man with the pipe inquired. The Good Pirate Windmear ripped the plummed red feather from his hat and threw it in the mud in disgust. It had been shredded by a rodent with a needle of all things. Damn Narnians and their unnatural beasts!

"Don't bother." He barked, "we know where they be goin'," he snarled. "We'll catch up to them long before they reach the Lone Islands."