I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just write about them to ease the loneliness I feel when I listen to the soundtrack.
Lucy awoke the next morning to the screeching cries of gulls. Rolling out of the hammock, she slipped her feet into the slippers that waited there and rubbed her eyes blearily. It was a very cramped cabin. She and Susan shared it, and as such there were only two hammocks inside, with the door to the hallway between them. Its only window was a small, round portal of thick glass that usually rested just above the water, but whenever the ship gave a more aggressive pitch it dipped beneath the water and bathed the little room in an eerie blue light. The only other thing worth noting was the little closet built into the wall, which Lucy now reached out to open.
The sea journey was expected to last a little more than a week, ending at the mouth of the Cappis River, a ways north of the river Shribble. From there, they would walk on foot until they reached North Ettinsmoor and the land rumored to be the new rallying point. Because of this, Lucy and her sister had brought an unusual array of clothing – each had the gown they'd worn the day they had departed from Cair Paravel, and several much simpler dresses of plain cotton to wear for the days at sea and on foot, but also a long shirt of dwarf-wrought mail and various other pieces of battle equipment. Neither had bothered to bring any footwear besides sturdy walking boots, and their crowns hung on hooks embedded in the wooden closet.
Lucy pulled one of the cotton dresses from the closet and slipped out of her dressing gown. She tugged the garment over her head and straightened it, tying it with the belt that held her cordial and dagger, then laced up her boots and pushed the door open. The hallway, dimly lit with enchanted fire, was deserted, so she proceeded up the stairs and out onto the deck. The sun was just barely suspended above the water in the distance. Pink remnants of its rising still lingered, reflecting off the ocean, creating a picture certainly worth painting.
"Pretty, isn't it?" came a voice from behind her. Lucy jumped and turned quickly. A young man, probably a few years Peter's senior, grinned down at her from his perch on the edge of the upper deck. She recognized him as one of the singing men from the day before and smiled warmly at him.
"Yes, it is," she replied, and looked back at the scene.
"But you'll notice something else, Majesty," he said. He pointed east of the fading sunrise, her gaze following his finger. "Storm clouds."
And right he was. Dark and ominous, the clouds looked far away, but still sent a shiver of fear (or was it excitement?) down Lucy's spine. Their little ship was clean and well-kept, but it was small and seemed a bit like an oversized toy when she compared it to the enormous galleys and barges of the foreign dignitaries that had visited in the earlier years of her reign. She had doubts about how well it could stand harsher weather. The sailor, seeming to read her mind, dropped his arm to his side and shrugged dismissively.
"Don't fret about it, my Queen," he said. "Captain Parry's sailed through far worse."
"Have you?" she asked. He shook his head and smiled.
"No, I've been lucky so far. I expect it will be frightening." Lucy glanced at the horizon again.
"How long do you think it will be?"
"I'd give it 'till sunset," he replied. "But now I'd better go rouse my crewmates, it's getting time to eat. Excuse me, your Majesty." And he rose, untangling his long legs from the railing bars and walking over to the ladder that stretched between the two decks, then descending it and stooping to duck down into the hallway Lucy had come from earlier.
"Excuse me, sir!" she called after him, and he looked back up. "What is your name?" The young man chuckled.
"You ask many questions, my Lady. My name is Thomas."
Thomas and Tumnus, she thought for no reason at all as he disappeared into the hallway.
Breakfast was a casual affair at sea, a bowl of porridge and a cup of fresh water to whoever wandered into the galley early enough. Lucy happened to be one of these and she took her food outside, for the morning was already getting warm and the kitchen was becoming oppressively hot. She settled against the wall that divided the upper and lower decks. Abruptly, she became aware of two hushed voices carried over to her on the ocean breeze, and identified them instantly as Peter and Susan. Lucy put her bowl down and listened intently.
"I'm not stupid," Susan said emphatically. "Something is bothering you. You know something important and you don't want us to know. Well I do, Peter, and I…"
"It's nothing," he insisted. "It doesn't concern you, it's my problem."
"Whether or not it concerns me I'm concerned," she countered.
"Must you be so nosy?"
"You can call it nosiness if you like. But by the Lion's mane, Peter, I'm your sister and I care about you. If something is worrying you, tell me. Maybe I can help."
There was a silence, and Lucy could imagine her two eldest siblings, glaring heatedly at one another. All the Pevensie children were strong-willed, but she placed her bet on Susan in this case. Peter listened to logic and Susan's argument was reasonable. Finally, Lucy heard him give a sigh and he spoke again, now sounding tired and even a bit dejected.
"I should have known this wouldn't get past you lot," he grumbled.
"You should have," Susan agreed, and waited for him to go on.
"Before the coronation, Aslan spoke to me," Peter began. "He said that even though Jadis had been defeated, not all evil was gone from the land. He said she was merely a symbol of that evil, and that destroying her would temporarily scatter the forces that answered to it. I asked him why we shouldn't then destroy all these creatures who remained loyal, and he spoke to me about mercy and forgiveness. It was because of this that I did not pursue all of the Witch's minions and purge them from Narnia."
Peter took a deep breath. "Aslan also told me something else. He told me that if they ever were to band together again, it would fall to me to defeat them, and that he could not offer aid again. And before you say so, I do know that my sword fighting is spoken of in countries I have never heard of. But I am still mortal, Susan. Sometimes I feel that people expect me to be some sort of savior, some sort of stand-in for Aslan, but you must understand that I am not. I have weaknesses and I'm afraid to die. I am afraid that if I fail, Narnia will fall back to what it was before we came. But most of all I'm afraid for you and Edmund and Lucy."
"Oh, Peter," Susan said, taken aback. "No one expects you to be Aslan. And you forget that these are rumors, not proven, and that should the need arise you have an army ready to battle with you. And, of course, you have us."
Lucy thought this a fitting time to voice her own support, and she left her breakfast there on the deck to scramble up the ladder and to the aft of the upper deck, where her brother and sister stood. Fairly flying over to them, she wrapped her arms around her startled brother and smiled up at him.
"Yes," she agreed. "You have us."
She had the most uncanny feeling that they were being watched, and on a whim turned her face up to the crow's nest. Sure enough, the dark-haired head of the final Pevensie was visible high above the rest. Lucy could not see his face, but she was sure that he was smiling.
