Awakening in a cell with a throbbing head was never fun, but it certainly wasn't new. Waking with his brother beside him was somewhat more upsetting but still far from unheard of. It was turning his aching body and seeing his two beloved sisters strewn across the dirty, hay covered floor that sent a bolt of pure panic through Edmund's stomach. Never before in their eight years as Kings and Queens had all four Pevensies been help captive at the same time.
"Peter! Susan! Lu!" he gasped, attempting to push himself into a seated position. His right wrist felt like a bold of lightning ran through it and Edmund collapsed. An agonizing memory of his wrist bones grinding together flashed in his mind.
What happened?
Gently cradling the throbbing appendage, he finally managed to roll onto his side, then into a seated position. He was pleasantly surprised to find that neither he nor his siblings were in shackles, and was thus able to scoot toward his brother, giving him a none too gentle nudge with his boot along the way. "Peter!" he repeated. This time he received a groan in response and his brother's head lolled his direction. Familiar fear stabbed at his stomach at the blood that matted the left side of the crown of Peter's head. "Oh Pete," he maneuvered himself behind the older man, tugging him up until he was leaning against Edmund's chest. A preliminary evaluation suggested a mild head wound, probably paired with a concussion. Again, not unheard of, but worth being cautious about.
Edmund quickly tore off a strip of his shirt and secured it as best he could against the wound. A few gentle taps to Peter's face yielded no results, so Edmund carefully propped him against the stone wall and picked his way over to Lucy, the closer of his sisters.
He had barely set a hand in her shoulder when she awoke suddenly, only hesitating a moment before lunging at him, on the attack. "Lu! It's me!" he cried as he restrained the younger woman. Confusion creased her brow as she finally looked at her "attacker."
"Oh Ed, you're alive!" The frown transformed into a broad smile, and she hugged him.
"Alive- Oh, Lu, It's alright, I'm alright," he whispered, bewildered, as he rocked his little sister. "What happened? Do you remember how we got here?"
"Oh, those brutes, it was perfectly awful, them attacking us like that! Under the flag of truce, no less!" At Edmund's blank look, she reached up to touch a tender spot on the back of his head. He hadn't noticed it before but that did seem the source of the throbbing. "Don't you remember? We were on our way back from visiting Lord Ilantus in the northern territories when these scraggly brigands approached with a white flag, begging for food. You and Peter were seeing to them, and the next thing Susan and I knew, our guard was pushing us into the trees to hide! The last we saw of you was a big one dragging you away. We couldn't tell if you were dead or alive!"
Edmund saw a quiet tear drop down her cheek before it was hastily scrubbed away. He knew better than anyone that she was a queen and warrior in her own right, but holding her in a dank cell he could not help but think of her as his baby sister, just barely more than a child. "Come," he murmured, gently pushing her upright and brushing a thumb across her cheek. "I'm alright and we must see to the others. I've not yet checked on Susan and then Peter will need some help. He's also taken a blow to the head. Even without the cordial, you're by far the greatest healer."
Lucy nodded. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Edmund knew she was praying to Aslan and grimly seconded her prayers; he was doing the same thing in his own heart. Until rescue or ransom arrived, the four Pevensies had only themselves and Aslan to rely on.
When she opened her eyes again, Lucy was every bit the wise Queen she was known to be. Valiant, Aslan had dubbed her, and He was right. Momentary tears aside, which Edmund knew to be less a form of weakness and more a form of coping, she was strong as steel. "Are you hurt, Lu?"
"No, they didn't harm Susan or me. I saw them knock Peter out, but they only drugged us. I don't dare to hope it was for chivalry's sake." She shuddered lightly.
"Don't worry, Lu. They'll have to get through me before they get to either of you. We Pevensie men are a stubborn lot." Lucy smiled knowingly. "Alright, I'll check on Susan, you go tend to Peter. His head wound seemed minor, but it will certainly need treating." She nodded before hurrying over to their eldest sibling.
Edmund shifted a few feet further over until he was beside Susan. "Susan, wake up," he spoke gently, placing a hand on her cheek. She stirred softly but did not open her eyes. She had always been very sensitive to medicines or draughts intended to make the user sleep. Even wine sometimes made her sleepy, much to the amusement of her more strongly composed siblings. Certainly, that had not been Aslan's thoughts when naming her the Gentle, but it fit, nonetheless.
"Susan dear, you must wake up," he spoke a little louder, tapping her cheek a little harder, though hesitant to slap her as he might have Peter. Her eyes began to open but after a few slow blinks, they started to close again. "Susan!" He snapped, hoping the sharp tones would finally startle her from the drug-induced stupor.
"Edmund?" She whispered, finally coming to her senses, eyes fully open. Confusion filled her gaze for a moment before relief flooded through and she fairly leapt up to wrap him in a hug. Nearly thrown down as gravity pulled at the pair, Edmund helped Susan sit up and brush herself off. "I'm fine, Susan, only a little bruised. Unfortunately, we seem to have found ourselves in something of a precarious situation." He gestured to the stone cell about them.
She glanced around, taking in their surroundings, but her eyes froze at something over Edmund's left shoulder. He followed her gaze and saw Lucy tending to Peter, who looked a little more aware but not by nearly as much as Edmund was hoping for.
"Oh, I pray Oreius comes for us soon," she whispered.
"By the Great Lion, I pray that as well," he replied.
Susan glanced around again. "Have you looked out? Where do those brigands have us?"
"Looked out?" He asked, then noticed what she had already seen: a small window directly across from a wooden door, the only entrance. "Not yet. Do you feel up to standing?"
She nodded and braved a thin smile. "I feel quite well enough to see what we can learn about a band of brigands with the gall to capture Aslan's monarchs."
After making their way to the window, he was initially startled by how high up they were. There were many abandoned watchtowers and small fortresses dotting the lands, but Edmund knew of none this large. From what they could see, the landscape seemed far more consistent with the north and less like that of the woods or plans of southern and eastern Narnia. Scraggly trees formed a halfhearted forest around the stone walls and a chill pierced the air. Surprisingly, that same chill did not permeate their small cell, so the castle must be well built, and their window must face away from the wind.
Striding below were the dots of small men patrolling and training. What Edmund could see of their ragged uniforms confirmed that these were the band of marauders that had knocked him out, though that had not been something he doubted.
One figure caught his attention. It appeared to be a large man. When he walked by, anyone in the area immediately stopped what they were doing and saluted. He did not appear to acknowledge any of them. Edmund's mind raced, storing away each detail.
A moan interrupted his thoughts and both Edmund and Susan spun. Peter finally stood, though he held his head and leaned toward Lucy as she whispered to him. "Peter," Edmund called softly, relief in his tone.
His brother's head raised, and sharp eyes met Edmund's. "Hello, Ed," he grinned ruefully. "Glad to see you're still in one piece."
Edmund held up his right wrist, which was swollen and purple and rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head. "More or less, only a little bruised." Then he strode over to clap Peter on the shoulder. Susan followed, pulling Peter into a fierce hug.
Peter's eyes flicked to Edmund's wrist again when Susan pulled back. He chuckled ruefully. "Yes, I think that might be the reason for this nice crack on the head I took."
Edmund frowned, confused. "What's my wrist got to do with your head? Some raider messed up my wrist, not your head."
"Somehow, I didn't see how, one of those treacherous bandits got a hold of your sword hand, trying to make you drop your weapon, while another was about to run you through. I managed to charge the second man and knock over the first. In the scuffle, you fell with him. I tried getting there but one of them must have smashed my head with something. Next thing I knew we were here."
Shaking her head in anger, Susan picked up the story. "He got you with a rock. We didn't know if you were dead or alive. We thought we were far enough from the battle lines with the archers, but they overran the army in minutes. Our guard fought valiantly, but…" she wiped away a stray tear. "I pray some of them survived."
Edmund glanced around. "And now we're here, held hostage in our own kingdom. I wonder what they intend to do with us. Oreius had better not pay any ransom. I'll not have Narnia robbed at the hands of these villains!"
"Where do they have us, anyways?" Peter wandered over to the window.
Shrugging, Edmund said, "Somewhere in northern Narnia. I know the general terrain, but you know this region better than us."
Peter nodded, silently studying their surroundings. Finally, he turned back to his siblings with carefully controlled anger. "This is the old fortress of Arlon Hen. Ilantus told me it is all but falling apart but he has plans to refurbish it. We were just discussing his idea to come check on its status in spring. With the snows due in the next few weeks, we decided waiting was best. This fortress is Narnia's without question. Not only are these men brigands and murderers, but they are also invaders on Narnia's sovereign lands."
For a few moments, all were silent. In the quiet, the sound of bodies climbing the stairs filtered through the wooden door. Instantly, the two men gestured for their sisters to get behind and straightened themselves in as kingly a form as they could manage.
Two burly men entered, followed by a willowy younger man, who wore a poorly sewn surcoat bearing a sigil that Edmund was unfamiliar with. The younger man glanced around the room with eyes that instantly betrayed fear. Of whom, Edmund could not yet tell.
"Who speaks for you?" he addressed the monarchs, who all stiffened at the lack of respect due their station, even in chains.
Edmund stepped forward. "I, King Edmund the Just, by the authority of Aslan and the High King, speak for the four sovereigns of Narnia. Who is your lord? I demand to discuss the terms of our ransom." The youth seemed to shrink back between the burly hulks at the kingly presence Edmund had spent many years perfecting.
"My- my Lord awaits you in his chambers. If you and the High King would follow me." He spun on his heel and all but fled down the stairs. One of the bigger men jerked his head, clearly expecting the Kings to follow. Head high and pace measured, Edmund and Peter did so.
They descended roughly four floors worth of stairs before the youth led the procession through a series of turns and backtracks probably intended to confuse the captives. Edmund tried not to be insulted. Finally, they approached a large, unkempt wooden door, which was swung open by a pair of malnourished-looking serving girls.
A banquet hall waited on the other side of the door. Edmund took a moment to take in the room, from the cobweb covered chandeliers to the tattered banners to the massive man feasting at the far end. For a moment the castle's lord and the Kings of Narnia eyed each. When the mountain of a man simply gestured for Peter and Edmund to sit with a half-eaten chicken leg, Edmund felt his heart sink. He let no hint of his despair show in his diplomatic façade.
The young man wrung his hands as he stepped forward. "My Lord, may I present High King Peter the Magnificent and King Edmund the Just of Narnia."
The lord briefly glanced up and grunted before returning to his meal. "Have a seat, King Peter, Prince Edmund."
Still in entrance of the hall, Edmund cleared his throat purposefully. Perhaps a diplomatic touch may yet work. "Excuse me, sir, but it's High King Peter and King Edmund."
A sneer, quickly hidden but present nonetheless, appeared on the lord's face. "Very well. High King Peter. King Edmund. Have a seat."
So much for diplomacy.
He let Peter make the first advance before striding forward, perfectly one step behind his brother. The two kings settled lightly on the seats nearest the lord, as if on their thrones back at the Cair. Edmund glanced at Peter to see how he wanted to proceed but the elder man gave him a subtle nod. He knew better than anyone that negotiations were Edmund's best battlefield.
"Sir, I-"
"Lord. I am Lord Favelo."
Teeth gritted, the young king gave the barest acknowledgement of Favelo's words before continuing. "I request, on behalf of my royal siblings and all of Narnia, to hear why you have forcefully and unlawfully detained our persons and slain our guard. I also desire to know what ransom is being asked of our people for our safe return."
Favelo glanced sidelong at the commanding presence of the High King. "Do you always let your lapdog speak for you?"
Peter's eyes narrowed just the smallest amount. "My royal brother was appointed by Aslan as Just King over all our kingdom, which includes these lands. I trust him utterly and his words are as if they were mine. Now, I believe we asked you two questions. Kindly answer your king."
Again, Favelo failed to hide a sneer. "My lords, I honor you, but you are not my Kings. These lands no longer belong to Narnia. I am Lord of this castle and the surrounding lands, and you trespassed. My men were simply defending their home."
Peter and Edmund exchanged a glance. To an outsider only the barest hint of confusion might have been evident on their faces. Inside, Edmund knew the same sense of dread flashed through Peter as it did through him. "Lord Favelo, putting aside the fact that your men attacked us, abusing the flag of truce in the process, I hope that you are simply unaware that any transfer of this land is not lawful and thus void. These lands have belonged to Narnia since the very beginning, under King Frank and Queen Helen. There has been no transfer of land to the kingdoms of the north, nor has there been war for these last five years. This castle and its lands belong to Narnia." Edmund dared to let a hint of his suspicion show. "How have you come to occupy this castle and under who's authority?"
With a greasy grin, Favelo leaned forward. "By conquest. Under my authority."
Edmund felt his blood begin to boil and was mentally composing a scathing response when he felt Peter tense beside him and knew disaster was moments away. He wanted to pummel the usurper as much as his brother and might have if Susan and Lucy weren't upstairs. Favelo clearly had no honor and he feared what that could mean for their sisters.
All of this flew through his mind in the split second it took Peter to lunge forward. Edmund threw himself in front of Peter and grabbed the older man by both arms, crying out, "My King!" as he did. He stowed away his anger, making a show of concern and squeezing Peter's arm as if holding him up. Not enough to make Peter seem weak, just enough to create an excuse. He met rage filled blue eyes, his own cool grey ones begging Peter to follow his lead. Oh, so briefly, Edmund flicked his gaze upward in the general direction of where Susan and Lucy were. Peter's expression faltered and his head lowered just a little.
Good, Edmund thought. Time to make a show of it. "Brother, are you well?"
Confusion seemed to cloud Peter's gaze – concerningly real – and the elder king's hand went to the bandage at his head. "I… forgive me, I felt a bit faint, I fear I almost fell. The blow I sustained has sapped my energy. Perhaps our host," Peter spat the word, "would have the kindness to permit me to be seen by a healer. I'm sure he wishes to care well for his hostages." Edmund gently pulled Peter's hand away from the wound and found fresh blood soaking the bandage. Brilliant Peter, he must have pressed on it.
Seizing the very real thrill of concern that flew through him, Edmund kept one hand firmly on Peter's arm and spun to face Favelo. The lord watched every move of both kings with sharp eyes. "Favelo," he abandoned all pretense of civility, "your beastly actions have injured the High King. I must demand that he receive medical attention and be allowed to rest. Should Narnia learn what you have done to her High King upon our ransom, I doubt even we could contain the wrath that would come down upon your little illegitimate kingdom."
Favelo eyed Peter over Edmund's shoulder. The older King made a show of swaying slightly, leaning lightly against Edmund. Again, Edmund found himself wondering just how exaggerated Peter's acting was. After a moment, the man nodded dismissively. "Very well." He turned to the guards. "Jaret, see that the High King receives our best care. King Edmund and I still have things to speak about."
The shorter of the two guards stepped forward, a patently false smile on his face. "This way, your majesty," he gestured back to the doors they'd come through. Peter straightened but Edmund glanced in his eyes and saw the fog still lingering. He nodded at Edmund, then followed the man out, not bothering to acknowledge Favelo.
Edmund let his gaze follow the men out and linger on the wooden doors for a moment before sweeping it back across Teravus, the remaining guard, and Favelo, who had returned to his meal without comment. Mustering every ounce of self-control, Edmund pulled back his shoulders and returned to his seat.
"Now, sir, let us return to the matter of your most unlawful—"
"King Edmund, let us put off the pretenses." Favelo dropped his fork with a clatter and stared Edmund straight in the eyes. "Let us be honest with each other. You and I are not so different."
Grinding his teeth, Edmund growled, "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
His beady eyes narrowed. "Yes, you do. I have heard of you, King Edmund. I think you and I could come to understand each other. I have heard of your time with the former monarch whose throne your siblings usurped." A sickly, familiar cold stole through Edmund's veins. "I have heard of how you returned to your siblings when the tide turned against the Witch." The pure audacity of Favelo had Edmund frozen in shock. "I have heard how you chafe under the so-called High King. I have heard of how you crave his throne, the kingdom for yourself."
At this, Edmund's last nerve snapped, and he jumped to his feet, filled with fury. "You hear incorrectly, my lord," he poured every ounce of his disgust into the title.
Favelo continued to learn closer, a sick grin on his face. "Do not deny the truth, King Edmund. You crave power, as do I. Perhaps we can help each other."
Edmund stepped closer and growled at the man. "You presume much. Too much. My loyalty belongs to Aslan, the High King, and to Narnia. I have had enough; I demand you release myself and my fellow monarchs. You plot treachery and tempt the anger of the Great Lion Himself, whom none can stand against. I offer you this one warning: turn away from your schemes and He may yet spare you."
A wad of spit landed on Edmund's cheek. "There is no Great Lion, only a cat who hides behind children." Before Edmund could find the words to express his absolute shock and righteous anger, he found his arms grabbed and wrenched behind his back by the second guard.
"Unhand me!"
"There will be no ransom. Narnia will be mine, with or without your cooperation. So, if I were you, I'd consider my next words very carefully."
Edmund tried to wretch his arms away, but the man held fast. Standing as tall as he could, the Just King eyed his captor steadily. "I stood against Aslan once. Never again. Do your worst."
Favelo sighed heavily and looked genuinely confused. "If you insist. Teravus, bring me the older one. Eretash, if he or his brother resists, hurt the girls." He looked up at Edmund. "We really could have helped each other."
"Only Aslan can help you now."
At that, Favelo's eyes darkened, and he jerked his head at Eretash. Unspoken signal understood, the brute all but drug Edmund from the hall, guiding him through another maze of darkened hallways until eventually they stopped at what seemed to be a random door. He stumbled as Eretash shoved him into a dark, bare room. Without ceremony, the man kicked and punched him mercilessly. Everything in him screamed to fight back, but all he had to do was remember that dark, evil look in Favelo's eyes. This evil man's threats were not idle. He tried to curl up to protect his vital organs and body, but over the long minutes, hits slipped through. By the time the brute finished, Edmund was trembling and bleeding all over. Just as unceremoniously, Eretash grabbed him by the arms and drug him, stumbling, back up to the top of the tower.
Welcome to Only One Lord, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! This story has been a labor of love for the last year, and I'm delighted that it is finally ready to be shared with the world. Shoutout to my boyfriend (GuyBudMcShnee) for constantly asking "So when do I get to read it?" and being voluntold to be my beta. You're the best 😊
There will be 9 chapters, released Tuesdays and Saturdays, so keep a look out! This chapter will be the longest one. Again, I hope you enjoyed, and I look forward to hearing what you think!
