I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just love them to death death death death. Death...now there's an idea.


Blurred voices through a haze of pain. Low buzzing in her ears. A terrible dull ache throughout her body. Cold. So cold.

"Is she alive?" a cracked, fearful voice said. Lucy didn't want to wake up. The more her brain worked, the more her body hurt, and the more she became aware of the screaming agony in her hands. They felt as if they'd been cut in two. Perhaps they had.

"I think so," said another voice, and a hand reached out to press against her icy cheek. She flinched away; the warmth emanating from the hand burned like fire. The second voice murmured, "Oh, thank Aslan."

"D'you think she needs the cordial, Su?" asked the first voice, and the coughing fit that followed the words told Lucy that it was probably Edmund. But how? He'd been underwater for far too long. Her mind toyed with the idea that they were all dead for a moment, but dead people didn't feel pain like the pain she was feeling. Or at least, they shouldn't.

"I think whatever did this isn't something cordial will heal," said Susan, and Lucy felt her hair being smoothed back tenderly. "Her hands we should do something about though."

There was a sound like cloth ripping, and Lucy suddenly found her voice to scream in anguish as something rough and wet and cold touched down on her right palm. A pain like nothing she'd ever felt lanced through her arms and the muscles convulsed of their own accord, until a gentle hand touched the icy side of her face and she shuddered, her tired mind slipping back towards unconsciousness but not fully so. She turned her face to one side as if it would help dull the agony.

"Ed," asked Susan's voice, as if from several rooms away. "Take the cordial and go look after Peter. Lu's going to be all right."

"Right," said Ed hoarsely, and Lu felt hands clumsily pulling at the clasp of the cordial pouch. Too tired and in pain to help, she coughed feebly and shivered, feeling stone under her back. The weight of the cordial bottle was abruptly gone from her hip. Footsteps echoed, and she suddenly became aware that there was another sound in the room, a sort of moaning and weeping. Susan seemed to have finished cleaning her right hand. There was another noise, more ripping cloth, and then something was being wrapped tightly around her palm. She whimpered in pain.

"Oh, do stop sniveling," said Susan irritably. A wave of confusion and hurt washed over Lucy.

"Sorry," she rasped. The words stung in her throat.

"Oh, no, Lu, I wasn't talking to you," replied Susan. "And don't try to speak. Just relax."

"Who?" Lucy croaked, and she could practically see her sister's mouth pressed into a disapproving line. A small cry escaped her lips as another cloth met her left hand, carefully cleaning away the blood she knew must be there. It still felt fresh, so she couldn't have been unconscious for very long.

"Zale," muttered Susan. "Whatever you did certainly changed her. She hasn't stopped apologizing since she woke us. At least she's keeping the water out; whatever you did apparently also broke whatever spell was keeping this place from going under."

Lucy opened her mouth to speak but Susan kept going. The warmth of the blood on her hands was fading away, the stinging agony intensified against the damp cloth.

"Don't talk, Lu," Susan said. "I know what you're going to ask. Yes, Zale is free from the spell that caught her when she found the mirror. The back contained a piece of the same material that Jadis used in her wand, and when you destroyed it, the spell was broken. All of us are still alive because she expelled the water from the room and used her natural magic to resuscitate Peter and Ed, who would probably be dead without her help. And now she's in the corner, you can hear her whimpering."

Lucy gave a tiny nod, feeling quite sure that the room hadn't been the only thing drained. She was absolutely exhausted.

"Peter?" she managed to ask feebly.

"I'm going to be frank," said Susan. "He's not going to win any marathons at the moment. If he had lost any more blood, well…Ed would be High King. But with your cordial he should be all right, if extremely lightheaded and weak."

There were voices from somewhere nearby, sounding agitated. Lucy opened her eyes just the tiniest bit and the world swam into focus above her. Susan was looking over at somewhere else in the room, still gently swabbing at Lucy's left hand. The stone ceiling was above her, and Lucy couldn't see anything else.

"Don't let him sit up, Ed," called Susan.

"Down, Peter," growled Edmund from a ways off.

The tiniest flicker of a smile pulled at the corner of Lucy's mouth. Things were at least back to one level of normalcy; Peter and Edmund were now bickering fiercely ("Nono, I'm fine, really, where's Lu, let me…"; "Bullocks, get down and shut up, you're not going anywhere…").

When at last both Lucy's hands were bandaged and Susan was satisfied that she had no other wounds that needed attending, she was helped into a sitting position and was able to see the rest of the room. There was a ring around the stone walls, like a ring in the bathtub, but it was below the higher torches so some light still shone to cast the rest of the room into odd shadows. The slashed canvases and broken mirror stood like distant reminders of something twisted and evil. There were bloodstains on the mirror shards. That's my blood, thought Lucy with a shiver. More frightening were the bloodstains by the doorway for they were far greater in size. When her eyes finally came to rest on her eldest brother, she had to fight down a wave of nausea. Both her brothers were absolutely covered in blood, some of it now crusted but much of it still fresh. Edmund was holding Peter down with one hand, testifying to just how weak the elder was at the moment, the younger looking tired and sullen with a large gash on his temple.

"Zale," said Susan, standing up. The nymph, who was huddled in a corner in a mess of blood-stained white robes and tangled gold hair, looked up through wide, terrified green eyes. They were no longer the intense jade-green of before but rather a milder green, and looked far less intimidating.

"What does Your Majesty require of me?" she asked fearfully, shrinking back even further.

"We wish to leave this place," said Susan. "Is there a way you could send all four of us together?"

Zale shook her head, her hair rippling like waves.

"No, Your Majesty," she said hoarsely. "The mermaids of this lake have a mask that could…"

"Yes, yes, we know about that," said Susan impatiently. "If that's the only way we'll just call them up. Lu, you'll be going first. There should be a party on the lakeshore waiting to greet you. You'll have to tell us your story later. And if we haven't mentioned it before, Lu…you're amazing. You saved all our lives."

Smiling weakly, Lu nodded and coughed again. It was about five minutes before the mermaids arrived (Zale offered to call them), and when they did arrive, Susan and Edmund both helped to carry Lucy over to the window. There, she was given the mask, it was fitted over her face, and she was placed in the arms of a broad-chested merman who bore her very gently through the freezing water. She scarcely remembered the journey there, as it was simply a blur of blue and swaying plants, and finally she was breaking the surface, the mask was tenderly pulled from her face and she was alone on her side on the shore sand. Suddenly a hand closed over her shoulder, and she went rigid, reaching for her dagger, but it wasn't there. A low, warm laugh echoed in her ears before she was swept up into a hug and again carried onto soft grass with sunlight streaming down on her face. Smiling faintly, she pressed her face into the wonderfully dry ground and sighed contentedly.

"Welcome back, my valiant queen," said Thomas cheerfully.