Title: Were it Not for Love

Rating:
PG

Author: MooMoogle

Diclaimer: I don't own 'em, but I love 'em to death!

A/N:
Oh my goodness gracious, I am SO sorry for the immense wait! I'm only afraid to say it might take even longer for the next chapter. We're moving this summer to a house with NO cable or high speed internet. Yah. Stinks. Hopefully I can borrow my friend's computer to put it up. Anyway, here you all go...It's a bit longer and goes really fast, but OH WELL. XD I wanted it to.


Chapter Four
The Wonders of Aslan

The fair headed boy's steps were sure and steadfast as he emerged from his tent, pulling back the tapestries to let sunlight tumble into the makeshift shelter. He squinted his eyes at first, the light momentarily blinding, him, before he set on again.

Aslan had sent for him- it really wasn't much of a shock to Peter when he had heard the message. The battle was only tomorrow, and he was sure the Lion wanted to discuss a few matters with him. Perhaps the archers should be rearranged…Maybe put the fauns equally on each flank…Whatever the reason, he tried not too worry or seem uneasy; truly, he was quite fearful of the next morning. Would he simply walk away? Oh, no, not Peter. He would face the challenge set before him, even if it would be a brutal attack.

It was still relatively early in the morning; the grounds were nearly empty excluding the few guard centaurs and fauns. He deliberately ignored them, though, leaving them to their duties. They, in turn, left their King alone. They knew of Aslan's calling to him, and their respect for both beings was never ending.

Past the camp boundaries and up the hilly green he traveled. The occasional whistle of a bird rang clear; otherwise it was silent. Soon, the boy began to worry. "I must have gone the wrong way," he finally concluded after many a minute. He stopped, and was about to turn heel, when he heard his name.

"Peter." He turned to finally be met with the sight of the great lion. Aslan padded softly forward, Peter looking side ways at the Beast.

"You called for me, Aslan?"

"Indeed." Aslan joined by Peter's side, gazing up at him. "Shall you fancy a walk?" Peter, a bit startled by the offer, only managed to nod before the pair set off at a slow pace. The air was silent, but it was not stiff, Peter noticed with slight regard, and it remained that way for a long time.

Finally, Peter split the silence. "Aslan, I can't stop thinking about him." He stopped, his voice shaking. "Was it my fault?"

The Lion as well came to a halt, casting a look of sympathy up at the boy. "Do you believe it is your fault?"

Peter gulped. "I…don't know, Aslan. Sometimes…sometimes I do. But sometimes I feel…it could have been different."

"A cruel twist of fate has occurred. But we cannot know what could of happened, Peter."

"I understand, Aslan."

Aslan raised an eyebrow. "Do you, dear one?"

"I…think so…" Peter's voice trailed away with uncertainty.

"Peter, it is not wrong to miss him. It is not wrong to grieve. But what is wrong is to chase after the past. You have not done so, nor do I wish you to. That is why I have called you." Aslan began to start forward again, Peter next to him, watching the Lion. "There have been some, more than few, who do go mad with what may have happened. They begin to follow after it, and it slowly begins to twist their mind and actions until they either kill themselves, or the ones around them."

Peter stumbled, quickly picking himself up again. "I…I don't want that."

"Of course not. And you won't have that." Aslan stopped, turning to face the trembling boy. His voice softened. "I too wish to protect my family. O Peter, I mourn with you. But remember, not all is lost."

Peter drew a shuddering breath, turning his cerulean eyes to the heavens. "I know, Aslan…I know."

The boy tangled his fingers in the golden mane, burying his face within it. And softly, the two began to weep for all that had happened, and for the lie that had hidden in Peter's voice.


"Peter, come back…Please come back."

Edmund watched with despaired eyes as his brother began to fade from the forest, leaving the boy alone in the wood. His pleas did nothing but simply echo through the trees with an odd ring he knew no one would hear.

He slumped against a tree, his spirit filled with grief. He was alone…From all he knew, he would never meet his siblings again.

And that knowledge hurt.

He softly crossed to the pool of light which his brother had been near, which was actually not light at all, but water reflecting a soft glow…and releasing it's own light as well. There were pools dotted all through the wood, and each one had tortured him. They were worlds…entrances to worlds for anyone who came to the Wood to access…Except for him. He had tried so many times, and each time he broke the surface, the water would simply ripple and the image would fade, and his fingertips would brush the mud at the bottom.

Now he stared down into the water…Into Narnia. He saw the Camp, the soldiers…Even, with a wave of anguish, his siblings, preparing for the battle to come. Susan with her bow and arrow, releasing shot after shot upon a target; Lucy, practicing with dagger, though he knew she would never use it in battle.

But what made his heart ache the most was when he saw Peter with his sword, riding his noble unicorn, exchanging blows with Orious. He forced himself to watch, to never look away, making himself suffer.

But the truth always managed to catch up with him. He could have been there, happy, alive, with his siblings in Aslan's Camp…He could have refused the Witch…He could have actually warned them…He could have…He could have…

A yell tore from his lips; his fists, balled, slammed into the water, releasing a spray that drenched him. His blows once more met the dirt bottom of the pool, and the image rippled away.

A wail of grief escaped him as Edmund crumpled on the ground, tears streaming down his already wet face. He was dead, and that was all there was to it. He would never go back, and now he was damned to continue on with his sins.

He was dead…He was dead…

Something soft brushed his cheek, bringing him back. With a hiccup, he let his eyes flutter open. A lion stood before him, his noble face lowered to the boy. Edmund did not give a start, but simply locked his own despairing eyes with the ambers. He released a spluttering sigh as he fought to contain his sobs.

"A-Aslan?" he managed to whisper. The Lion gave a small nod.

A look of utmost abandon crossed over the boy's features, his tears starting anew. This was the Lion. The Lion who ruled all. The Lion he had so quickly brushed away.

"I…I'm so…sorry." His voice, already weak, was strangled.

Aslan's eyes welled with tears. "Do you understand your mistakes, Edmund?" The boy nodded earnestly.

"I do, Aslan," he replied quickly. "Oh how I do."

Aslan studied him for a moment. "Do you know why you are here, and not there?" He regarded the pool, which had smoothed and now displayed a faun at work.

Edmund gazed at the picture. "S-she told me…Oh, Aslan, I was a traitor. She told me she must have the traitor's blood." He looked back up at the Lion. "Oh, Aslan, was she telling the truth?"

"It is a very vague explanation of the Deep Magic…But yes. The Emperor wrote, long ago, the binding words that told, should one commit treachery, their blood is due to her. If the life is not given, then Narnia shall perish in both fire and water."

A ragged, shuddering breath escaped the boy. "Then I was doomed to die from the start."

"Dear heart, do not give up upon faith. Your blood has been shed, true, and I cannot work against the Emperor's magic. But there is always a way…" Aslan fell silent, waiting patiently, giving Edmund a moment to think.

Edmund, though he tried to come up with a solution, failed miserably and sagged. "There is no way out, Aslan." He buried his face in his knees. "I've been condemned."

"Son of Adam, do you not realize? Do not give yourself up. Notice, you are not where the condemned go." Edmund looked up. "I have managed to instead turn your soul here, amidst the Wood between the Worlds. Only you and I can view each one. You have not truly proven yourself, therefore I could not bring you to my country beyond the sea; but the condemned are cursed to go to their own place where ones such as the Witch dwell."

Edmund shivered. "I don't want to go there."

The Lion softened. "Nor do you. Edmund, you have a chance. You have the chance to prove yourself to Narnia, to your siblings, to your subjects, that you have changed. You can return to them and fight against the true wicked, creatures, and regain yourself."

The raven haired boy's bow shaped lips parted in a look of disbelief, a flicker of hope finally alighting in his dark eyes. "Oh, Aslan, can I?"

A soft smile crossed over Aslan. "Yes. But, heed me; as I've said, I cannot work against the Magic…You must return from the World once the war has ended."

Edmund lowered his gaze. "I understand."

"But, also, heed me; Your blood can be shed and your life lost."

"Oh, Aslan; if I die, will I return here?"

Aslan purred. "Dear heart, should you die in the hour of War, and should you prove yourself, you will die with honor and forgiveness."

Tears of joy fell from Edmund's eyes as he gazed at the golden lion before him. There was hope. "But now, climb on my back. You have a long ways to go, and very little time to get there. The battle is only in a few hours." The boy, with the help of Aslan, managed to stand, and after a moment's hesitation, clambered upon the soft, fur back of the Lion. He tangled his fingers in the soft, golden mane, and the two set off through the Wood.

And for the first time in a long time, Edmund smiled as they ran.


It was time.

Peter sat upon his faithful mount, garbed in dwarf wrought armour, Rhindon clenched in one fist, his shield in the other. Beside and behind him, were the thousands of soldiers, waiting tensely. The Witch was not here yet…But Peter knew it would not be long.

Though he did not show it, Peter was a nervous wreck. He was no hero…And without Aslan, he was even farther from it. The Lion had disappeared late last night without a single word. Orieus had said that Aslan had matters to attend to…But was it really greater than the Battle?

A sharp cry rang from the sky, and Peter looked up to see the gryphon, Kazar, circling above. The Beast made a great loop, passing the archers standing silently up on the cliff. Peter bit his lip when his gaze met Susan, who had insisted she be in charge of the archers. He had, of course, rebuked the idea, but Susan had haughtily informed him that Father Christmas had given her a bow and quiver for a reason.

Kazar descended from the sky, landing roughly on a jut beside Peter's unicorn. "They come, your Highness, with numbers and weapons far greater than our own!"

Orieus shifted slightly. "Numbers do not win a battle."

A deep pit settled in Peter's stomach as faint screeches sounded. "No…But I bet they help," he muttered.

And in great numbers and weapons they came. Far as the eye could see, the Witch's army stood impatiently, already releasing victorious cries.

And lone, above her army, was the Witch herself. She stood motionless in a chariot, clutching the rein to the polar bears pulling it, her wand in the other. The jagged ice caught the sun's glow with a dark humor…Glinting with evil…

The dagger raised high…

And all at once, Peter's fear was replaced with rage. This was the one who had killed his little brother. This was the one who would pay.

With a bray, her army poured forth from around her, racing forward towards the Narnians. Peter watched, fuming, though he waited. A cry echoed from the cliff; Susan had given the first order. The gryphons came, shrieking, clutching small boulders as they advanced upon their enemy. From high above, the beasts let them drop, smothering the unlucky few of the Witch's army.

Now…Now it was his time. With flaming eyes, he surveyed the advancing beasts… They killed him…They will all perish…

He raised his sword to the enemy, and the trumpets and war cries sounded, and weapons were drawn. They killed my little brother…

A scowl formed over his face. Gathering up his voice, he finally cried:

"For Narnia…And for Aslan!"

His unicorn gave a snort and reared, flailing his sharp hooves to the heavens…Then with a lunge, leapt forward, racing towards the opposite army.


Aslan did not slow one step the whole journey, and only did as the Wood grew thin. Edmund had sat, silent but thrilled, upon the Lion, his mind racing. He was going back

"I am afraid I must leave you here; I cannot take you any further." Edmund did not hesitate; he alit from Aslan's back, landing lightly on the soft ground. A strain of worry ran through the boy's eyes- he feared that he could not go alone.

But the Lion was not one to doubt. Aslan turned his face skyward and opened his maw wide. The boy flinched, expecting an ear shattering roar, but he was mistaken. The Lion released one single, beautiful note that rang clear. It was most obvious it was a call for something.

And sure enough, out of the thin air, a dark, noble black horse appeared; though it was not a normal horse at all. Dark feathered wings protruded from below the steed's withers, folded neatly at his sides. The flying beast shook it's head in surprise, though once it saw Aslan, it calmed instantly, and fell immediately into a horse-bow.

"Askari at your service, Sire."

"Askari, I am in need of your abilities…That is, if you wish to carry this Son of Adam into battle against the Witch."

The beast's eyes flamed with anger, and he gave a snort. "O Aslan, consider it done! I should like to fight Her, especially after she turned me to Stone…" After a moment, the horse regained his composure, and turned to look upon Edmund, who gazed back in wonder. "We should like to leave now, Sire, if we wish to get there soon."

Edmund nodded, and with a moment's struggle, mounted the winged steed. A ring of franticness flit through him as his hand rested against his hip, noticing he was weaponless. "Aslan, I don't have a sword, or armor!"

"Do not fear, dear heart; you will arrive ready. But now, fly! I shall join you soon…But I have business to attend to." With that the Lion released a roar, and horse and rider plunged into darkness.


With a fierce yell, Peter brought his sword down mercilessly on a minotaur, ending the creatures life. Let them come; they will all perish…

Blow after blow he released, never holding back. He would never hold back. They killed him…THEY KILLED MY BROTHER!

A wolf lunged from the fray, maw agape, at Peter. The boy snarled, raising his shield to deflect the attack, then plunged his sword into the stunned beast. He was unsatisfied- Where is she…I want her.

Though he could not search properly- attack after attack was aimed at him, and again and again he would unleash his anger.

A burning light caught his eye, and he raised his gaze. The Phoenix flew gracefully above the clashing armies, diving towards the ground between them. Flames leapt from the earth before Peter, shielding the enemy from view. Roars of triumph bellowed from the Narnians as the Witch's army was deterred-

The flames fell as a rush of cold magic flattened them.

There was the Witch.

Peter seethed inside, longing to rush upon her, and smite her down…But he knew the tactic would simply end his life. He grit his teeth, then finally cried, "Fall back! Back to the rocks!" His unicorn turned sharply, beginning to retreat through the valley…

A gryphon hovered near him. "Sire, someone approaches the Battle lines!" he shrieked before propelling himself back into the air, following through with Peter's order to go to the rocks.

A look of confusion passed over the youth's face- 'someone approaches the Battle lines'? Oh no, not Lucy, please not Lucy…I told her to stay at camp…

But it t'was not his youngest sister.

A great whinny echoed clear 'cross the plains, though it struck Peter as an odd sound. The very call was…pure, in a way. But his puzzlement faded as the figure emerged from the edge of the valley.

A great, black pegasus stood, pawing the ground with grim delight, his great wings spread abroad. The Beast, though midnight hue, seemed to glow almost, giving off his own light.

But Peter could care less about the horse- all he saw, was its rider.

Because there, glowing even brighter than his mount, with both a sneer and a scowl across his face, was Edmund.


A/N: Cliffie! XD Sorry, I had to do that. Anyway, please review! I love reviews! Or else I shall make you wait a reeeaaallly long time! Bwhahaha.