Prompt #29: Sometimes defeats are personal failures; sometimes defeats are the crumbling of a nation. Sometimes, like Aslan's sacrifice, a defeat can be the truest victory. Write a story about a defeat.

† Mastigoi †

18 OCTOBER 1015 (NARNIA TIME)...

Thundering hooves and merry laughter filled the autumn woods as the Kings and Queens followed the Stag around the bend. Lucy whipped the reins of her mare and goaded her on, watching the Stag disappear into the thicket.

"Make haste, royal friend!" she said. "Our quarry is yon, and our wishes hence!"

"Spoken rightly, royal sister!" said Susan. "Alas, our quarry is fleeter of foot than we."

"Oh, not for ever," said Peter. "We will catch him ere long. Today is the day; I know it!"

"And what of thee, royal brother?" said Susan with a toss of her head over her shoulder. "What say thee?"

"Very little," said Edmund through a breath. "Alas, thou and thy steed are fleeter of foot than we. Pray continue on, and allow us a moment's respite."

"So it be," said Susan. "But not for ever."

Not forever, indeed. But Philip was growing weary, and he had slowed to a canter. His sides were bellowing and squeezing with heavy breath, and his head was starting to droop.

Confound it, said Edmund. We have a schedule to keep. We are signing the alliance at noon and we are marrying the Duke's daughters and the Earl's sons at 6 o'clock. We will not be held up on account of you.

But he put on a smile and laid a hand on Philip's neck. "How fare thee, old friend?"

"Bother all that," said the horse. "You can fancy up your words as much as you want, but I know what you're doing. You want everyone to hear how noble and dignified you are. But you're the same pompous fraud as you've been for the last four years, and I am not fooled."

"Philip, I won't be spoken to this way. We are old friends, and I am happy to grant you liberties, but this is not one of them."

"Well, then, let me give Your Majesty a more fitting answer: 'I am not as young as I once was.' Does that satisfy you?"

"Oh, Philip, why must you be so thick? This alliance is going through. It will be for the good of Narnia. You just have to give it a chance."

Philip snorted in reply. "You know what Aslan thinks of this whole thing. You all know. And you know it's wrong—"

"Fair brother!" said Peter. "Hast thou a head? We have found our quarry! Do not suffer thyself to stand there deaf and dumb to the world."

"Coming, fair brother!" said Edmund. And in whisper—"Philip, this is going to happen. Let it be, and do cheer up."

The horse rolled his eyes and reluctantly began to canter back to the group.

But when they gathered, no one was moving. Something had overcome Peter, and now it had overcome them all.

Fletcher's dead. Narnia for Narnians threw us out of the country. The Beavers and half our friends are dead. And it's all because Aslan had to stick his oar in. As far as I'm concerned, those days are over. Aslan has no right to order us about and tell us what's good for Narnia. We have to make it happen ourselves.

As Peter looked into the eyes of his fellow monarchs, he saw a suggestion of doubt in their eyes. He wished they could see reason, and he wished the fervency of his gaze could make them understand: Aslan is no King worth the name, and we have a chance to be better. But they had their doubts. After all, not everything that had happened to them was terrible. In fact, most of it had turned out to be something wonderful. Even the lot that was quite dreadful at the start turned out well.

It was just as the Lion said: "All shall be right, all shall be right, and all shall finally be right."

And yet…

Aslan's ways had caused so much misery and sorrow. After everything he had put them through, he owed them all. And Peter would make him start by granting the alliance—and if the Lion would not do it willingly, he would be forced.

And praise be to the Lion. They agreed with him now.

They followed Peter into the thicket and rustled through the trees as quickly as the woods would let them. The Stag had to be caught. The alliance had to go through. And bother Aslan and all his silliness. They would catch the Stag and make him grant their wish for an alliance.

But then it occurred to them that the lamppost looked very familiar and the trees felt strangely soft.

No…

Lucy knew. Every step through the trees was a step closer to the truth.

No!

Susan knew. Her womanly thoughts were fading away and becoming girlish ones.

NO!

Edmund knew. He saw a glimpse of the White Stag turning gold and shaggy, and roaring with a wide open jaw.

NO! NO…NO—NO, ASLAN, NO!

Peter felt as if a whip had been laid across his back. His heart screamed in pain as if it had been sliced in two. He knew. By God, he knew. No magic was powerful enough to make the Lion disregard His ways. No rebellion was so trivial that Aslan would look the other way. No antagonism against him was so minor that it would go unanswered forever.

Peter knew.

They knew. They all knew. Aslan warned them all through tears and sobs, making it very plain that he would answer their choice. "You will do what has to be done…and so will I."

Narnia had been taken away.

They had been taken away.

"He did it," said Edmund through tears. "He really did it."

"Oh, Peter!" sobbed Lucy. "What have we done?"

But they knew. And they knew they had it coming. One sordid alliance with a nation of murderers, one unholy compact that they wanted more than Aslan himself—one treaty that would have spelled the doom of Narnia.

Peter wished it had all been a dream, a silly child's game that was overwhelmed by their imagination.

But then he heard a golden rumble. A still, small voice. And he knew it was all too wonderfully, terribly real.

You are my children, and I will always love you.

Peter knew Aslan loved them. Even to do this.

And somewhere, deep in the ravaged hearts within, they knew it was right. And perhaps they would return to Narnia someday, to be the Kings and Queens Aslan had wanted them to be. Perhaps, by the Lion's will, they would look Aslan in the eye and say that everything the Lion did was right.

Perhaps they would.

But not today.

"And have you forgotten the encouraging words God spoke to you as his children? He said, 'My child, don't make light of the LORD's discipline, and don't give up when he corrects you. For the LORD disciplines those he loves, and he punishes each one he accepts as his child.' " ~ Hebrews 12:5–6