I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just try to avoid being incredibly immature when making them deal with the problems of growing older.
Author's Note: I didn't notice that I'd hit 20,000 words last time, so here's my note for it now. An updated thank you to my faithful, wonderful reviewers; every word you write makes me want to post even faster. I hope I'm playing into everyone's field. I've made an attempt to not focus too heavily on any one character, but if you'd like more of any one of them, let me know and I'll see what I can do. Also feel free to PM me with ideas for other fics (especially oneshots) because sometimes I need a break from massive epics like this turned out to be. If you didn't know, my original goal was 5,000 words, and that seemed a whole lot to me. I'm rather giddy. In any case, here's chapter sixteen, I hope it's up to scratch and I again thank you for all your marvelous feedback
Lucy tried to smile as Elle clambered up into her father's lap, but could not dispel her worry for the younger of her two brothers. Her mind kept racing back to the one, terrifying thought – if anything happened to him, it was her fault – her fault for letting her anger get the best of her, her fault for bringing up something she'd long sworn to have forgotten. And that was the worst part. She had forgiven him. To that minute she still didn't understand why she had said such an awful thing when she didn't really hold it against him.
Perick gave a small cough, and Lucy's attention flickered back to the table.
"You had a question," he said. Then, as a suddenly remembered afterthought, "Your Majesties."
Susan nodded, looking for the most part composed, but Lucy saw her hands were closed into tight fists in her lap.
"Before, you spoke of someone you called The Lady. Can you tell us any more about this?" she said.
"Oh," said Perick, frowning. "We don't know much about her, only saw her for a moment back in the lake. She was…" he paused, trying to remember.
"Pale," Gedra cut in. Lucy and Susan shared a look.
"Yes, pale, with long white-gold hair. Wore a thin white robe. She wasn't bothered by the cold in that lake at all, but it was freezing, any normal person would have died."
Feeling less and less optimistic by the second, Susan swallowed and rested her chin on her hands, back straight and face drawn. Lucy was feeling quite uneasy now. There was no way to tell if this woman was really the White Witch, but the description fit almost perfectly so far. But it's impossible, Lucy reminded herself, Aslan killed her. And what business would she have letting these people into Narnia, either?
"Her hands," came a smaller voice, and Lucy gave a start. Elle was staring at them intently. "Her hands was odd. The fingers was connected."
"Were connected," Gedra murmured gently but insistently. Lucy glanced at her sister and found that she looked quizzical.
"Do you mean to say she had webbed fingers?" Susan asked.
"Yes," said Elle simply. "Like a fish."
"And her feet, were they also this way?"
"We couldn't see, they were in the water," said Perick.
This new piece of information was invaluable but quite puzzling. The only creatures in Narnia with webbed hands were mermaids or water nymphs, all creatures of good reputation. Of the two, Lucy knew that mermaids were the more physically powerful but that the nymphs of seas, larger lakes and the great rivers were capable of acquiring basic magical skills. A gifted nymph could bring about floods and storms. If Elle was telling the truth, there would be much to worry about – but still not as much as there would be if the Witch had returned.
"Did she speak?" asked Lucy. Gedra nodded.
"She told us to pass through a gate she'd made, and that whatever we found beyond it was ours to claim."
"And she said nothing else?"
"Actually," said Perick, frowning even more deeply, "she did, but it wasn't to us. Lyde, the boy who discovered her, had talked to her. I don't know what she said to him."
"Can we speak to him, then?" Lucy asked. Perick shook his head glumly.
"We haven't seen him in a week," he said, and his voice was hollow. "He disappeared during the night. We have no idea where he's gone, and Barrin is heartbroken. He was his only son."
"I'm sorry," Lucy said quietly. There was a short silence.
"We…we thank you for your time, but we really must move on," said Susan, rising. "We must find a place to stay for the night."
"You could set up camp here," Gedra offered with a hint of reluctance. She seemed slightly relieved when Susan rejected her offer, saying that there wasn't enough space in the clearing for such a large group. She and Lucy exited, both of them automatically looking for any sign of their brothers. Instead, Carrul stood outside with a rather impatient look on his face.
"I warned him not to wander off, Majesties," he told them. Lucy wasn't sure if he meant Peter or Edmund.
"Well, they did. Which way did Peter go?" Susan asked worriedly. Carrul pointed off towards the other end of the village clearing, opposite the side they'd come in from. The two sisters nodded their thanks, strode to where their weapons lay on the ground when they'd relinquished them earlier, equipped themselves, and set off. They passed into the trees a moment later.
"Why would he run off like that?" Susan muttered. She was setting a tough pace for Lucy to keep up with, the smaller girl having to half-run in order to do so. "Edmund, I mean. He's been acting strange since his fight with that brute in the woods."
Lucy's stomach twisted in guilt. She had hoped to make things up with him immediately, but she was too ashamed to apologize in front of Susan and Peter. She didn't want them to know what she had said. It was too cruel. But Edmund had avoided her since then, she had been unable to catch him alone, and so as yet she hadn't had a chance to tell him how awfully sorry she was.
"I don't know," she mumbled, hurrying along. She didn't even sound convincing to herself.
"What happened back there?"
"I…I was standing by the stream and the man surprised me," Lucy lied. "Edmund found me and attacked him."
Abruptly, Susan stopped and turned to look her sister. Her face was serious.
"Lucy," she said. "You've never been a good liar. What happened?"
Lucy squirmed, fiddling with her dagger. On top of feeling guilty about her earlier actions, she now felt guilty for lying to her older sister about something so serious. She avoided Susan's intent gaze for a moment, then sighed and looked her in the eyes.
"I've been a horrible, horrible sister," she said in a small voice.
"How bad could it have been?" asked Susan, perplexed.
And Lucy told her everything.
When she was finished, tears stinging in her eyes, fingers gripping her dagger so tightly it hurt, Susan only stared at her. The older girl's eyes were filled with a mix of disappointment, pity, and – much to Lucy's surprise – curiosity.
"Well," Susan said, after a moment. "That was a terrible thing to say, Lucy. But you already know that." Lucy nodded dejectedly, staring at the ground.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to."
"I know you didn't," Susan replied easily. "I think…" here, she paused, "…I think you're getting to be that age."
This was unexpected. Lucy's head jerked up and she watched her sister in bewilderment. Susan had a curious expression upon her face, and the hint of that "I-know-something-you-don't-know" smirk was playing on the corner of her mouth.
"What do you mean, that age?" Lucy asked worriedly. That age sounded frightening. She didn't know if she wanted to be that age.
"Sometime, usually around your age, you start to change inside and out. Sometimes you get very upset for no reason at all, and other times you feel so unnaturally happy and you just can't explain it. Has that ever happened to you, Lu?"
Lucy nodded slowly. She'd felt that way several times, actually – a few times at Cair Paravel, she'd felt completely giddy and could not for the life of her say why. And ever since she'd lost her cordial she'd been feeling almost perpetually cranky, though she'd thought it was the loss of her gift.
"When do you stop being that age?" she questioned, keen to be in control of her feelings again. Susan laughed and wrapped an arm around her sister's shoulders affectionately. Lucy grudgingly received the one-armed hug, not at all amused with the whole situation and at a loss to explain why Susan was.
They set off again, Susan still grinning broadly to Lucy's immense irritation.
"Don't worry, Lucy," she said as they trekked on. "You get used to being that age."
