Nightingale

By: Rhuben

Full Summary: Readjusting back to his old life, Edmund finds himself drawn back to a Narnia he doesn't recognize. A Narnia that, for a second time, he feels like he betrayed. Haunted by memories of the White Witch, Edmund will do everything he can to help restore Narnia to what it once was. Becoming a recognized King of Narnia once more, exhausted by lingering fears and doubts, Edmund finds himself forced to acknowledge his past when Issi – new to Narnia, yet somehow knowledgeable of all its nuances and what's occurred while the Pevensies were away – starts to catapult at the walls he had built up around himself. Comforted and guided by the honey voiced spirit that she only hears, Issi is pulled into Narnia after a day at school. The spirit that grows into a more physical presence the longer Issi stays in Narnia. Issi promised to nurture Narnia the best way she knew how, but found herself rebuilding a King desperate for some sanctuary, all the while fighting off a slowly building desire to do him harm.

Chapter 01

As the sun dipped just past the frame of the high castle window, Issi knew her cover was quickly ebbing away. With deft fingers, she carefully rolled up the parchment that sat unfurled over her lap. It wouldn't do anyone any good to smudge what she had spent hours, days even, working on. She slipped the bits of crudely sharpened charcoal into the side pocket of her bag and wiped the black streaks off her hands and onto the folds of her dress. She took one more look back towards the imposing castle before turning on her heels and slipping into the forest brush.

Using the palms of her hands to smooth back the sweaty hair at her temples – though she knew this was to be futile, her curly hair never seemed to want to give way to be tamed – Issi kept her head on a swivel. Anything could come jumping out of the trees at any moment as she had come to learn since appearing in this strange land. A fox. A rabbit. A bird. Any and all of them with the surprising ability of communication. Wherever she was, it held surprises around every corner.

The biggest one being how this place fit in the bottom of a city fountain.

Issi could remember the gentle breeze as it pushed her hair back from her face and breezed past her ears as she ran through the streets of Surrey. The sound the bottoms of her flats made as they struck the street with each step she took. The laughter that carried to the boys behind her as she ran with her friends through the square, free from a long day at school. Between writing essays and escaping the watchful eye of teachers, it was nice to be able to get a break and act like the teenagers they were.

At least until they needed to head off to work in the evening. The girls would head off to work as typists, work in gardens, take care of siblings, and gather the family rations. The boys – though the world started to see them as men – worked in factories, as messengers, as firewatchers, all waiting with bated breath on the day they would be called-up to join the services. Then they would reconvene at school again the next day. If no one was evacuated overnight or dropped out to work full time to provide for their families.

That free time between responsibilities was looked forward to by everyone. While there were many who spent their free time sat by the radio trying to get updated with all the news, trips to the cinemas or dances held in town was not uncommon. Some of the boys and girls would take the time to sneak off and spend time with each other, promising to become more involved once the war was over. And some took the time to get to know the foreign soldiers that came to town.

And it was this day that Issi's pace had slowed, and she had fallen behind her friends.

"Hurry up, Issi," "Issi, come on," they shouted at her.

"I'll be right there," Issi promised, waving her hand in the air. As they continued, talking excitedly about the next move that was slated to release, waving to the baker who bellowed about fresh bread, and who they were going to see in town, she felt herself drawn to come to a stop. Beckoned by the honeyed voice that called out to her, ("Come. Come to me. Help me"), by the strong feeling of misery washing over her. Issi grasped a hold of the nearest lamp post to stop herself from dropping to her knees. To stop the feeling of misery from consuming her fully, pulling forth quiet sobs that formed at the back of her throat that suddenly had tightened.

"Finally, you have arrived," the voice whispered. A hint of pleasantness intermingled with the shortness of impatience. "Oh, I do need your help."

Taking in slow, deep breaths through her nose and out her mouth, Issi waited until the overwhelming emotion finally left her. Straightening, she then glanced upwards towards the head of the lamppost. It was always around this area where this voice came through the strongest. It's sharp and concise manner of speaking, allowed the voice to push through the muddled chorus of personalities all commanding her attention. But only in this area. It never followed her home like the others could.

"Ah!" Issi pulled her hand away from the lamppost. For a moment, her fingertips were stuck to the suddenly freezing cold metal. "What?" Eyebrows coming towards each other, she stepped closer to the lamp post. The metal looked frosted over, leaving an outline of her fingertips behind. Slowly flexing her stiff fingers, she stepped out into the square, allowing the sun to start to warm up her hand. Massaging her cold fingers with her free hand, she heard the voice declare, "Stop delaying and do as I say."

She wasn't one to ignore those that asked her for help. After witnessing countless days of her father in the hospital, seeing the doctors and nurses tending to him, it was all she wanted to do with her life. Issi had also bore witness to those very same doctors and nurses conclude that they couldn't help, that they couldn't ease the continuous pain her father suffered from. Couldn't forget the shouts of pure agony and wishes to just end it that echoed through the hospital walls. And there wasn't anything she could do about that.

And there were spirits, the owners of those voices, that she couldn't help.

Lowering herself to a seated position on the edge of the fountain in the square, she lowered her shoulder, dropping her bag to the ground. Issi closed her eyes, still massaging her steadily warming hand, hoping for the gurgling of the water to momentarily clear her mind of any other noise. The smell of damp moss reached her nose, surrounding her. Relaxing her. She missed all the times she could run off to the hillside with her friends and play around, getting lost in the high stalks of grass, and grand trees. Looking at the landscapes painted in the museums wasn't enough – even then, she could practically smell the damp Earth as she took in the pieces of art.

Opening her eyes, Issi slowly flexed her fingers, feeling that they had returned to its normal function. Eyebrows coming together, she gazed curiously at the lamppost, her fingerprints in the condensation having disappeared. "Curious," she said quietly, reaching for her abandoned bag. Lifting the strap over her shoulder, she dug her hand into the pockets and retrieved a shilling. With her back facing the fountain, she held the coin flat in the palm of her hand and ran her thumb over the coin, before she tossed it over her shoulder.

Plop.

The gurgling of the water suddenly changed. The surface of the water rippled, the rings colliding together shaking the reflection of the bottom of the fountain. The ripples grew bigger, turning into small waves. Issi looked around the square; no one seemed to be bothered by the sudden change in the water. How much louder it started to sound. Like a waterfall. Issi jumped back when the water splashed over the edge of the fountain, droplets soaking into her socks and shoes, but found herself stepping closer when she noticed the tree line reflected in the water. Issi looked around at the buildings surrounding the area.

"Oh, Issi, I fear that your head is cracked," she said, placing a hand to her head. There was no way she was looking at a forest in the fountain.

Still, she found herself stepping closer and closer. Leaning over the edge of the fountain. Sticking her hand in the water. Further. Further. She curled her fingers, expecting her fingernails to scrape the rough bottom of the fountain. She never reached it. She pushed her hand in further, the water creeping up past her elbow, to her shoulder, soaking the fabric of her dress. Never reaching the bottom. A breeze blew past her outstretched fingers, cooling the water that dripped off her fingers.

"Yes, yes. Almost there, at last."

Issi gasped, feeling her balance shift, and she plunged face forward into the water. She sank down, down, deeper into the darkening waters. Her bag, her heavy clothes, pulled her further down. Issi kicked her legs, using her arms to pull herself upwards as best she could. The sun shimmered on the water above her, casting streaks of light into the depths. Large plants swayed gently with the current, reaching upwards towards the surface, fish swimming in and around the leaves.

Her lungs burned. Bubbles slipped past Issi's lips as she desperately tried to hold the half breath she had managed to take before falling into the water. She moved frantically, clawing her way through the water. Faster. Faster. The shimmering light glowed brighter, and brighter. The water grew lighter. And finally, she crashed through the surface, sucking in deep breaths of air. Spinning in a circle, she took in the towering trees, the sandy water's edge, and the cloudless sky of the bay she found herself treading water in.

"What?" Issi spun in a full circle, her bag following lazily behind her before gently colliding with her bottom. Mouth agape, she started making her way towards land. Her limbs moved slowly, feeling heavy when they finally met soft ground as she pulled herself out of the water. Her clothes clung to her body, pulling heavy on her form. "Where am I?"

Too still.

The trees didn't move.

The birds didn't sing.

Issi grabbed a handful of her dress and pulled it away from her body, the shhhhuck sound it made the only noise sounding. Pushing her stringy hair back from her face, she looked up and down the still forest line. Did she see something move?

"Run." Issi nearly cried out. That voice sounded clearer than it ever had before. As if someone was standing right beside her, speaking harshly, urgently in her ear. "Run!" Heart pounding, Issi took off for the trees, jumping over fallen logs, and scrambling over the rocks, the soles of her shoes sliding against the rough terrain. As the hem of her dress skirted around the trunk of a tree, three men on horseback came bursting out of the recesses of the forest, the hoof falls absorbed by the soft sand. The metal of their armor, of the helmets they bore reflected the glare of the sunlight.

One hand to her chest, trying to regain her breathing, Issi watched the three men pull on the reigns of their horses, trying to keep them still. A burly man pointed a finger down towards the sand. Issi's breath caught in her throat. Her footprints. The other two men followed his finger pointing towards the trees.

In her direction.

Issi slowly slid one foot backwards. Then the other. Slowly, she crept back, keeping her eyes on the men on the beach. The soft forest floor trickled into her shoes, small bits of bark pressing up into her heels. When the men turned their horses in her direction, she took off as quickly and quietly as she could.

That had been her first instance seeing the Telmarines up close. Now, she was tasked with watching them from far away. To remember their patterns. To gather as much information on them as possible. It was strange, to be this close to the only other set of humans in this land, and not be able to get near them. To be warned against communicating with them.

After fifteen minutes of walking, Issi came up to a tree, one side of its bark stripped bare. Tally marks were etched into the exposed surface. Quickly gazing around the area, Issi concluded that she was alone and crouched towards the roots, reaching for the waistband of her sock. Rolling down the dirt smudged cotton, she removed the sharpened rock and gripped it tightly in her fist before carving another tally into the tree. Bits of splintered wood dropped to the forest floor. Another day she was in this land. Another day she had completed a successful trip to the castle and back.

Tucking the rock back into her sock, she clapped the dirt from her hands before running her hands down her thighs to scrub off even more. If her mother had seen her, she would have gotten an earful about her presentation. Or lack thereof. Or would she just be grateful for her daughter's return? Surely, someone had to be looking for her by now. Or would she already have been notified that her only daughter was missing? It had taken a while for the telegram bearing her father's whereabouts to arrive in the mail:

REPORT JUST RECEIVED THROUGH THE INTERNATIONAL RED CROSS STATES YOUR HUSBAND JAMES T WINTERS IS A PRISONER OF WAR OF THE GERMAN GOVERNMENT IN BERTH LETTER OF INFORMATION FOLLOWS FROM GENERAL NICHOLLS

As she stepped through her familiar path, Issi wondered what a telegram discussing her whereabouts would encompass. Would she be considered a prisoner-of-war or just missing-in-action? How long would it take to reach her mother? Never could she wrap her mind around how people just went missing after a bombing. Maybe now she did.

Was a telegram even created at all? It wouldn't make much of a difference, anyway, Issi had reasoned with herself. A letter could arrive detailing Issi's welfare. A day before a second letter could be delivered, explaining away injuries or even her death. She had witnessed it too many times.

The joys of a family receiving good news from their father, husband, brother, sons away at war. The excitement and relief the hand-written message would bring was infectious. Everyone joined in with the well wishes and good fortune, allowing the high spirits to squash the worry for their own loved ones even just for a moment. Those high spirits would only last for a while.

It was always the next day they had to worry about.

Everyone stilled upon recognizing the mail boys walking through town, wishing, hoping, and praying they weren't the recipient being sought after - "Angels of Death" as they had been nicknamed. Shrieks and howls of pain would echo through the streets, piercing the air, and lingering in the hearts of those around. That pain was recognizable even from a distance, more so than the whistle of an approaching bomb as it cut through the air.

Her mother would have to be worried sick by now. It wasn't like Issi to not return home after work. The night was when they needed to be at home the most, deciding their tasks for the next day, preparing for what could come. Or maybe she was getting by with each day that passed with no explanation. "No news is good news," Amelia Winters would explain with a light lift to her tone as another day ended. Now she didn't have anyone to be strong for. Much like her husband, her own daughter had suddenly left her.

Left her to a land Issi still didn't know the exact location of. In a land with vast forests, lush rolling hills, and imposing castles, she knew she was as far away from Surrey as she could get.

"You, my dear, are in Narnia."

Deep in her heart she knew that was where she was. She couldn't explain why she felt so sure of herself about it. Why one minute she found herself peeking around every corner, and the next found herself so comfortable in an area she had never heard of before, let alone could find on any map. She still marched on through the trails.

The Narnians were counting on her.

A/N: I used to write in the Narnia fandom a long, long time ago. With the recent news of a Netflix series, and just my love for it coming back, I decided to step back into it and start up a new fic. I hope you all liked this start. In case it wasn't clear, it's set during Prince Caspian.

It took me a bit to come up with how I was going to have Issi travel to Narnia her first time, I like what I came up with. I hope it wasn't too confusing for anyone. Or if you were, about any part of this first chapter, feel free to let me know.

Thank you for taking the time to read this fic and for giving it a chance.

-Rhuben

PS: Thanks again to lizziesxltzmxn on tumblr for the awesome fic cover!