JUST AND MAGNIFICENT
Volume 3: The Price We Pay For Love
3.4– A Time For Love
Volume 3 of Just and Magnificent starts about 3 years after the events of the movie. It is the last of three volumes. It is AU and if you haven't figured out, contains slash and incest. Hopefully you find it handled in a way that is as pure as possible.
Summary: Peter and Edmund's honeymoon comes to an end. Lucy journeys to Calormen to seek an ally. Susan tries desperately to prove a prophecy wrong. Orrin uncovers some shocking secrets from the satyr.
Warnings: Slash, Incest, Love, Romance, Adventure, Mystery, Action.
Disclaimer: Only characters that are mine are the Pretty Eyes People from Shian! And since they're all dead except Orrin, well I only own him now! All the rest belong to that master of awesomeness, C.S. Lewis
A/N: This chapter is really long. Bring snacks. Please, PLEASE review if you read this story and enjoy it! Reviews make me feel good and make my muse want to write faster! And if you can, tell me what you liked and why. This volume is just under halfway. I can't believe Just and Magnificent is just about over! I have loved being a part of Narnia, so please join me for the rest of the trip. I don't know if there's going to be another one!
WEDDED BLISS INDEED
In Cair Paravel, the business of running a kingdom had been surprisingly easy for Susan. Unlike some of the other times Peter had left her in charge, there was no nameless evil invading Cair Paravel. There was no call for aid from a dead kingdom, like the Shian. The Shian's fate was naturally still a sore point for her husband, but she believed he did his people proud.
It seemed as though they had been married a lifetime. They had achieved a level of familiarity that some couples do not achieve in decades of being married. She credited this to his great patience with her. She knew she was Susan the Gentle, but at times, she was anything but.
He had attached himself to his duty to Narnia with astonishing efficiency and dedication. Enough that in Edmund's absence, the prince assumed almost all his duties, from spymaster, to head of the Order of Justice. His dutiful attitude and respectful demeanor had earned him fast friends, including Oerius. She knew this was important so that Orrin would be accepted on his own merits, and not simply because he was married to her.
"I wish to have your child." Susan said as the pair stood on the balcony of their chambers, "I love you, Orrin. I want us to have a baby."
"Promised one, there is no rush." Orrin said with a smile, as he and Susan wordlessly moved into a moonlight dance.
There was no music to be heard, except the faint sound of fauns dancing by a fire in the southern orchard. It had become an unintentional tradition for the pair to share a dance in the moonlight before they retired to bed. Orrin could sense the determination in Susan's words. She really did want them to have a child together. He knew it would come, as was expected in marriage, but he did not expect it so soon.
Susan did not explain her reasons for wanting to rush into a pregnancy. She did not reveal the seers prophecy that neither the two Sons of Adam, or the two Daughters of Eve, would ever have a child. She did not believe in the prophecy. After all, if the prophecy of the four could be broken, why not this one? Why couldn't she and Orrin have a child together? It was their right. She wanted to create a life that was a part of them both. No seers would tell her otherwise.
"Please, my sweet prince." Susan said as she kissed the nape of his neck, "Let us try."
Orrin leaned down and kissed Susan, their figures casting a shadow against the brilliant moon. He held her neck with tender touches, as if to remind her of how precious she was to him. With a loving sigh, Susan wrapped her arms around her husband as he swept her off her feet and carried her to their chambers.
A MISSION OF NECESSITY
Lucy had never been fond of Calormen. It was a peculiar land. A land she found to be filled with strange laws and men whose smiles were insincere. However, she knew that just as in Narnia, there was good and bad in everyone. Though she did not wish to journey to Calormen, she had done so because Susan had requested it.
Her journey had taken a great deal of time, and she felt dreadfully alone. Although she had a large escort to ensure her safety, she missed her friends and family. She wondered how Peter and Edmund's honeymoon was going. It seemed so long now since she had seen them.
She stood on the balcony of a grand palace in the city of Tashbaan, with golden domes and spires touching the sky. She had given the ruling Tisroc a formal request for a defensive alliance with Narnia, with warnings of a great war that would threaten the entire world. The Tisroc received the request with much grace, but little sincerity.
Calormen was a wealthy empire, full of large provinces, deep history, and a sense of grandeur. They were masterful storytellers, one of the few endearing qualities Lucy liked about them. She did not like the fact that there were no talking creatures at all in Calormen. It was as if the place were devoid of the magic that filled Narnia. She longed for this visit to be over so she could return to Cair Paravel and see Susan. By the time she returned, Peter and Edmund should have finished their honeymoon. She hated being separated from the others, but knew it was often necessary to be.
"It's a right foul place, it is." Mr. Beaver said shaking his head, "No talking creatures at all. Sends a shiver through my bones, it does."
"I for one, am grateful you are here with me. It is an awfully strange place, isn't it?"
"It is indeed, Queen Lucy." Mr. Tumnus said as he followed Mr. Beaver in, "I dare say, none of our entourage is very happy to be here."
"At least I have both of you here with me." Lucy smiled as she covered Mr. Tumnus's hand with her own, "I do hate this awful waiting though."
"Well, I am certain that our Archenland friends will be much quicker in joining our alliance."
Their conversation was cut short by the arrival of a messenger. He handed Lucy a royal decree with a bow, before leaving the room. Lucy stared at the decree with confusion and annoyance.
"The Tisroc demands proof of this 'army' that threatens us all. Is Narnia's word not good enough for him?" said an angry Lucy, "Is Susan's word not good enough for him?"
"Perhaps it is time we take our leave."
"He did not even have the decency to present this to me himself. And on top of that, he has the nerve to 'request' we stay and enjoy their hospitality while he 'considers' offering aid to Narnia in our time of need. This isn't just about Narnia. This is about all our lands! Doesn't he see that?"
"Lucy, do not let his words anger you." Mr. Tumnus said as he poured Lucy a cup of tea, "This will calm you, my dear. Please."
"Maybe we should just leave, Majesty." Mr. Beaver added in, "This place is … odd. I still can't believe there are no talking creatures."
"I don't think they're going to help us, Mr. Tumnus."
Mr. Tumnus sighed curiously before nodding in agreement, "Then let us help ourselves as Mr. Beaver has quite sensibly suggested. Let us leave this place to find others who may join our quest."
Lucy sipped on her tea and noted the calming effect it had on her. She contemplated the best course of action. There was still the slight chance the Tisroc would decide to join an alliance in the war that would come. Yet she wondered whether her time would be better spent venturing north to Archenland before returning home to Narnia.
"I do not trust this place, Queen Lucy." Mr. Tumnus said with a raised eyebrow.
"We are at peace with Calormen, surely there is nothing to fear."
"I would hope you are right. It is my duty however to keep watch over you."
"And if there is any trouble, we got an army with us to fix them right up!" Mr. Beaver bellowed, "They wouldn't dare try anything!"
Lucy took another sip from her tea, unaware that at this very moment, their entire room was under the sinister eye of an unseen enemy. Though she did sense that perhaps Mr. Tumnus and Mr. Beaver should be heeded, she knew how important it was to secure more allies for the coming war. So she sat and sipped her tea, while trying her best to quell the fears of both Mr. Tumnus and Mr. Beaver, completely oblivious to the deception that he excelled at.
TWO MONTHS ON AND ALREADY FALTERING
Marriage had brought a fair share of interesting situations for Edmund. Though he loved Peter with all his heart, he sometimes felt constricted. He felt owned now. Owned by Peter. That in itself was not such a bad thing. Perhaps in a way they owned each other. Since the day of their argument, Edmund had lost some of his fire. He had lost some of his spark and his acerbic wit. If he and Peter argued again, what would he do? He could do nothing. They were married now. They were bound to each other even more than they already were previously.
The tension had eased between the pair, due mostly to Peter's refusal to let Edmund sulk or be pulled away from him. For Edmund, the problem lay in finding a balance between being Peter's husband and still being Edmund as well. Peter seemed to have no trouble balancing the two, but then he was high king and usually got his way. Edmund on the other hand had made considerable sacrifices for Peter. Though Peter's unintentional insult was exactly that, Edmund couldn't help but feel as though he were less of a man now. He had nothing against wives, but he was not one himself. How would they find that balance?
For the last two weeks since their argument, their honeymoon had become more of a foreign affairs trip than a marriage celebration. Edmund devoted his time to drawing allies to Narnia's cause against the coming war. Peter on the other hand, negotiated trade and good will between Narnia and those they had encountered on their honeymoon travels. They had ventured to Galma, the last stop on their way back to Narnia. Here they would spend the next two weeks, until their eventual return to Cair Paravel.
Now their latest honeymoon activity was to take part in a jousting tournament. A tournament that both kings were expected to take part in. The morning of the tournament found both kings sitting in their private tent, waiting for the horn to signal the first round.
"Ed, do not worry. We will not be challenging each other today. The only way we will have to challenge is if we both reach the final round. You can be certain that will not happen." Peter said with a reassuring smile, "There are far better competitors than I out there."
"Sure, Peter."
"Ed, you're not still upset about that argument we had at Terebinthia, are you?"
"No, Peter."
Edmund's tone was bordering on indifferent. Yet he found that would be better than saying what he really wanted to. He sometimes cursed his own tongue for being so acerbic, especially to someone as genuine and open as Peter. Their argument had never truly been resolved. Edmund simply didn't want to dredge it up. Sure, nobody was keeping points on who won the most arguments, but for that particular one, Edmund conceded the point to Peter. Peter was always right. He always knew what was best.
Edmund knew he shouldn't be feeling this way toward his husband of all people, but he couldn't shake the feeling of submission he felt forced to wear. Being married to someone like Peter meant he would always be second best. He would always be wrong. He would always be standing behind. He would always be a token king standing next to the high and magnificent one. Peter would always be more of the man, and Edmund would be the one who was forced to walk the line to accommodate.
"I love you, Doubt-bucket." Peter would say with that smile so bright, and eyes clear as the sky.
And when Peter said those words, Edmund found himself feeling guilty for harboring such resentment. Then Edmund would sigh and feign a smile back. After all, how could anyone refuse such sweet words that were spoken so sincerely? He most definitely did not hate Peter. It was nothing like that. It was simply an adjustment for him. He had spent so much time fighting and adventuring into the shadowy places of the world, that the transition to being a king and Peter's husband was most uncomfortable.
"We have been married for only two months now, and you are already unhappy." Peter sighed with disappointment.
"I never said I was unhappy, Peter."
"I'm your husband, remember? You don't have to say you're unhappy. You've been unhappy since I made that stupid comment about you making a good wife. I should have known it would be a sore point. I am not blind to the concessions you make for me, my love. How you try to protect me, and try to protect my reputation."
"I do love you, Peter. And I am grateful we are married. Just give me some time. I think I just want to go home. I don't feel so out of place there. But when we around strangers, I feel I must prove myself and yet still try to make sure that everyone knows you are the king. Perhaps on your next trip, I will remain behind."
"Marriage is about compromise." Peter said as he clasped Edmund's hand in his own, "Please have faith that we will work this out. We have the rest of our lives to do so."
"I love you, Peter." said a sincere Edmund, before he leaned across and kissed Peter softly.
Their kiss was followed by a hug, separated by the clanging of armor. Sure, their conversation had done little to help Edmund with his self doubts, but it did serve to remind him just why he was married to begin with. Love.
A JOUST OF A TIME
Peter's belief that there were better jousters than himself proved false. Indeed, he had made it to the final round of the tournament. Unfortunately, so had Edmund. Both being kings, it would've been an insult to Galma not to participate in a tournament held in their honor. It was a tradition that Orrin had partaken in when he and Susan had journeyed through Galma on their honeymoon voyage. Unlike that time however, Susan did not participate, since females were not permitted to. Peter and Edmund were in the unique situation of being married to one another while also being participants. It also happened to be that they were both far too skilful for their own good.
"I will not duel my own husband." Peter said to the Duke of Galma, before the tournament was due to start, "I'm afraid I must forfeit the title to King Edmund."
"You will do no such thing." Edmund interceded, "We will not disrespect our hosts by not participating, Peter. After all, it is just a friendly tournament."
Before Peter had a chance to retort, Edmund was already donning his helmet. Much to Peter's displeasure, Edmund chose not to wear the colors of Narnia, but instead he wore his dark knight armor, as if to emphasize the difference between the two kings.
With great anxiety, Peter mounted his steed at the opposite end of the joust run to Edmund. All he wanted was to get this duel over and done with. He didn't care who won or lost, just as long as both of them made it through without getting hurt.
When the trumpet sounded to begin the joust, Peter saw Edmund kick straight into a gallop. He had seen Edmund joust earlier in the day and knew he wasn't holding back. Instinctively, Peter did the same and soon the two kings were galloping at each other at full speed. Carefully, Peter timed his run with anxious breaths. He watched Edmund's movements and at almost the exact same moment, both kings lowered their lances and aimed at one another. Peter braced himself for the impact that would come, but all too late he realized what Edmund was doing.
At the very last moment, Edmund tilted his lance to the right of Peter so it would miss, while at the same time leaving himself open. The subtle movement was so well hidden that none of the onlookers would have known that Edmund was in fact intentionally losing this duel. Unfortunately for Peter, Edmund's plan worked far too well. Though Peter tried to move his lance away from Edmund, it was too late. Edmund had timed his demise too perfectly and Peter's lance speared him in the chest, before the lance shattered in two.
It was all over in a flash. Peter suddenly felt claustrophobic in his helmet and threw it off before turning his steed back to face Edmund. Edmund lay on the ground motionless while healers rushed to his aid.
"Edmund!" Peter yelled as he jumped off his horse and ran to Edmund's side.
Suddenly, Peter had flashbacks to Beruna. Flashbacks to Edmund dying on him, but surely that wasn't the case now. He knelt down beside Edmund while a healer removed his helmet. Peter's lance had actually pierced Edmund's armor.
"Peter, you weren't supposed to hit me there." Edmund said with a pained laugh, "You got me good."
"I know what you did." Peter said with angry tears as he watched on anxiously.
"Sometimes I miss being a fallen." Edmund smirked as blood seeped from his mouth, "This wouldn't hurt nearly as much. Where's Lucy when you need her?"
When his body plate was removed, the extent of Edmund's injuries were revealed to Peter. Edmund's chest was bloodied with a small tip of the spear still embedded in his chest.
"Some honeymoon this turned out to be." Edmund laughed, looking almost delirious, "Cut up my foot and now I have a lance tip stuck in my chest."
"King Peter, we must take him to the healer's building." One of the healers said as a stretcher was brought for Edmund.
"Would any of you believe I have fought the greatest evil and lived to tell?" Edmund sighed, almost with resignation, "I don't imagine you would, would you? I am hardly the Rogue Warrior now, am I?"
"Edmund, stop it." Peter said putting his hand on Edmund's shoulder, "Why did you do it?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Edmund sighed as he turned over so he could put onto the stretcher, "You're not just the king. You're my king. I think I'm figuring it out, Peter. Just give me some time. We'll be ok. You'll see. Now go and get your sodding trophy. Then come see me? Please?"
Sure enough, Peter did just that. He only took the trophy because Edmund asked him to. He did not wait for the celebrations. He ran to the healer's building as fast as he could. When he found Edmund, the lance tip had been removed from his chest. His wounds had been dressed with a strange paste and leaf combination. Something Peter wasn't quite familiar with. The healer greeted Peter with a smile, while Edmund seemed tired and drowsy.
"He will need to rest for a while. Nothing is broken, but it will be some time before he jousts again. I would say a week of taking it easy. In time, he will make a full recovery."
"Another scar for the collection." Edmund smiled, thanking the healer.
"I will leave the two of you alone."
"Thank you, kind lady." Peter said sincerely.
Peter sat down and sighed. His eyes fell upon Edmund and without saying anything, he began to sob. Edmund looked up at him through weary eyes, uncertain of the reason for Peter's tears.
"Peter?"
"I'm sorry." Peter said as he kissed Edmund's hand, "I'm sorry I hurt you. Our honeymoon has been a complete disaster. It's all my fault."
"That's not true. I will be honest with you, Peter. I do love you. I truly do. And I would not give you or our marriage up for anything. But … I do not quite know what I am supposed to be when I am around you. I know you meant no harm, but it would've been so much easier for you if you did have a real wife. And not some king who does not feel as though he belongs. You would've made an excellent husband to a queen. You're so chivalrous and … just perfect."
"I am not perfect. I am Peter Pevensie." Peter cried, "Why must you speak of things that I will never know? I do not want a wife. I only want you."
"It would've been easier if you had one."
"Easy is overrated, Edmund. And nothing worthwhile ever came easy."
"I just don't feel worthy of you, Peter. You should have had a queen cheering you on today. Someone who could give you a child. I had no right being out there. I did open my guard to you, but I did not expect you to run me through with your lance. You hit me good, Peter."
"Does it hurt?"
"Only when I breathe." Edmund laughed, "But I will live. I have had far worse, I assure you."
"Can you hit me really hard? So that I might not feel so bad?"
"No. I cannot. I do love you, Peter." sighed a confused Edmund, turning his eyes away, "Sometimes … sometimes … I wish …"
"You wish what, Ed?"
"I wish … you didn't love me."
"Why would you say that?"
"Because then I could die in peace and know that you would move on and have a life that is worthy of you. You need a queen, Peter. I am no queen. I am no wife. I am a confused and temperamental king."
"I'm going to blame your stupidity on whatever they're treating you with." Peter shuddered with tears before he lay down carefully beside Edmund, "I am sorry for your pain. This has been much harder on you than on me. But believe me when I say that I have no want for a queen or a wife. Or this life that you say I so richly deserve. I have my dream already. It is you, Edmund. It is you."
Edmund felt himself overwhelm with tears and he shivered with emotion. He soon joined Peter in his gentle sobs as they huddled closer together. Their hands interlaced, and Peter rested his head on Edmund's shoulder. He was mindful not to touch Edmund's wound, but they still achieved a close proximity to one another. And once again they proved that no matter what crises they faced, they would always overcome them just by being together. For what was their strength. And it would be the one thing to carry them through their tribulations in marriage, and perhaps even more, to the trials that would threaten them in the war that whispered its imminent arrival.
PERHAPS PETER WOULD MAKE A GOOD WIFE
Ever since Edmund had let himself be struck down in the joust, simply to protect the reputation of his husband and high king, Peter had fawned over him like a lone rose in a windswept storm. Though Edmund had been through far worse in his life, his injury was sufficient to keep him bedridden for almost a week. The wound, though not large, was still long and deep enough to require stitching. He didn't have Lucy's cordial to aid him, but the Galma healers medicine seemed to work wonders. For the first two days, Edmund had been struck unconscious with an infection that caused Peter no end of worry. Thankfully, the Galma healers were quick to remedy this, and by the third day, Edmund was awake although still very weak.
Peter had spent almost every waking moment, as well as every sleeping moment, beside Edmund. He would leave only when Edmund would make him do so, or when a pressing matter of royal duty forced him to. Other than that, he would prepare Edmund's meals with a great deal of fuss. He would be on hand with water to quench Edmund's thirst. He would rub him down and carefully clean his wound and change his dressing. He would wash him gently with a cloth, making sure that even in his current state, his Edmund would be clean and taken care of.
At other moments, Edmund would listen as Peter would hold his hand and tell him stories of the adventures he had in the two years Edmund was kept from him. Though Edmund had already learned most of what had happened during his absence, he loved hearing the sound of Peter's voice. It was both soothing and securing in its diction and presence.
Peter would often speak of his dreams for the future. Of what he would like them to do and accomplish together. One sore point for Edmund was children. He, like Susan, had spoken to the seers and learned that the original prophecy dictated that no offspring would be born of the two Sons of Adam, and two Daughters of Eve. Yet he couldn't help feeling that Peter deserved to have offspring. So did Susan. And one day even Lucy. He himself knew children were a privilege he was not worthy of. Yet he wanted Peter to have them. He wanted Peter to have a much different life than the one they were living.
Peter, however, would have none of it. When Edmund managed to squeak out his thoughts on Peter wanting children, Peter reminded Edmund that his subjects were his children. He was their father. For him, that was more than enough to worry about.
So Edmund continued throughout the week, slowly regaining his strength. Peter would still fuss over him and tend to his every whim and need. He would carry Edmund out so he could sit in the sun and smell the ocean breeze. This was oddly enough, probably the most intimate part of their honeymoon so far.
Now, after a week of barely being able to move of his own volition, Edmund was finally beginning to regain his color and warmth in his eyes. As the morning sun greeted him through their tent opening, Edmund smiled as Peter walked in with his breakfast ready to serve. Peter sat down next to Edmund, setting the tray aside as he checked the wound's progress.
"I can't believe I did that." Peter sighed, as his fingers hovered an inch over Edmund's exposed chest.
"It's not so bad. Call it a love scar." Edmund said as he caught Peter's hand with his own.
"Please don't do that again. I despise the thought of you being hurt or losing for me. I am not worthy of such devotion, Ed. Especially when I have been a complete trollop."
"You have not, Peter. I'm too sensitive, like you said. And besides, you have done such a wonderful job of tending to me."
"Well, since I am proving to be a terrible husband, perhaps I would make a good wife?" Peter said rather meekly, as if offering an apology for his own thoughtless comment long ago.
"Come here." smiled an appreciative Edmund.
Edmund leaned up just a little, his chest heaving with a little agony. Peter leaned toward him, unsure of what Edmund planned. That all changed when he saw the grateful smile in Edmund's eyes. Edmund cupped his hand to the back of Peter's head and pulled him in for a chaste, thankful kiss.
"Does that mean you forgive me?"
"I forgive you. And I'm sorry for being childish about it. You just hit a sore spot for me. But … I do think a white dress would match your eyes."
"Well … I was thinking more of a peach dress myself. But for you, I will wear a white dress."
"You will not." Edmund grinned.
"I will!" Peter laughed, standing up, "I'm going to go and find one right now, just to prove it!"
"No, Peter!" laughed Edmund, before he realized he laughed too hard and his chest throbbed.
Peter quickly sat down and leaned Edmund back, his face awash with concern. Edmund smiled weakly up at Peter and clenched their hands together.
"If you wear a dress, I will … laugh first, and then I will be forced to wear a dress of my own. Just so that I can look perfectly ridiculous beside you. I do not need a wife. I already have a wonderful husband who takes care of me and is kind and sweet, and I absolutely love him to death. Sometimes literally." Edmund said with a weak laugh, careful not to exert himself, "You're wonderful, Peter."
"Sometimes I think I could just eat you." Peter smiled as he gazed at Edmund's captivating brown eyes, "Well … you know what I mean. You're so adorable, Ed. If ever I act like a proper arse again, which I surely will at times, just remember that even when I am a fool, I am your fool. Ok?"
"Ok, Peter."
"I do not know what I did to deserve you, Edmund. You are so selfless and chivalrous. I do believe if I had not snatched you up for myself, you would have an unending line of suitors fighting for your hand in marriage."
"My hand was never available to anyone else but you." Edmund smiled before his lips formed a crooked smirk, "But now that you mention it. Do you really think the line would be unending? Would there really be suitors vying for my affection?"
"Yes …" Peter said with tight lips, "And I will kill them all if they even look at you."
"Wow … suitors for me? I should like to see that. Say, aren't they holding a dance in our honor before we go back to Cair Paravel?"
"Yes, and you won't be attending." Peter said before shutting Edmund up with a spoonful of soup, "You're in no condition."
"Oh, I'll be fine before then. There is a week for me to get on my feet and prepare to be adored by many."
"Then I best have my sword ready, hadn't I?" Peter said with a grin of his own, "Now eat your breakfast before I become Peter the Magnificently Jealous."
THE MYSTERY OF THE FALLEN
Far from the island of Galma, in the dazzling city of Cair Paravel, a Shian Prince stood before a fallen satyr. In the months that had passed since his capture, the satyr had not spoken one word. However, Prince Orrin had learned a great deal in that time. Some due to the help of Roan, who himself was part of the Fallen Army of Beruna. For example, he had learned that no matter who the fallen followed, they could not lie or deceive.
Between his duties as temporary spymaster and Lord of the Order of Justice, he had found little time to interrogate the satyr with questions. Lately however, there had been growing questions in Orrin's mind as to the nature of the war that threatened all. Questions that needed answering. Questions that perhaps the satyr could give answers to. For one thing, Orrin did not believe the satyr had served the dark power in life. Something in the satyr's dead eyes showed a torment that said more than words.
"Tell me, Satyr. Before you were fallen, who did you serve?"
The satyr did not respond, and for a moment Orrin wished to chastise himself for being so thoughtless. Orrin already knew that satyr did not speak, and had become accustomed to asking questions that were yes or no in nature. He adjusted his question in an effort to get a more conclusive answer.
"Did you serve the dark power? Did you serve the witch, Jadis?"
And just as Orrin expected, the satyr did not answer. Instead, the satyr stared blankly back at Orrin. This, as Orrin had come to discover in the last two months, was a no.
"Did you serve the lion?"
There, just as Orrin had hoped and expected, was a flash of activity in the satyr's eyes. A flash so subtle that anyone else would've missed it. And yet Orrin had spent so much time with the satyr, he had become used to the reactions he would offer. The look in the satyr's eyes was one of sadness and regret. For the first time, Orrin actually felt pity for the satyr. As if in life he had served the great lion well, only to be forced to fight for the cause of the dark power and the one who is many.
"So at some point there was good in your heart. In life, you served the lion. Now you are forced to do as you are commanded. This new fallen army, they are not all servants of the dark power are they?"
Once again, a flash of recognition in the satyr's eyes. A flash that seemed to be restricted by the magic that bound it to its new leader. Yet the flash was evident nonetheless.
"You mean even servants of Aslan who were taken to Salei Barion can be used by him? By the one who is many?"
Orrin felt a sense of accomplishment in his current line of questioning. This was perhaps the most information he had gotten out of the satyr in the last two months. He knew the satyr could provide information that would aid Narnia greatly in the war against him, the one who is many.
"It does not matter who they served when they were alive? It only matters who awakens them? Who they are forced to follow?"
Once again, a flash of confirmation. A flash that signified progress. Orrin could barely contain the anticipation that welled up within him. A breakthrough had been made.
"Can his hold be broken? Can those fallen who once served Aslan be freed from the hold of the one who is many?"
With an uncharacteristic smile of exhilaration, Orrin's lips curled ever so slightly. Perhaps this would be the hope Narnia needed. The hope the world needed. If somehow those fallen who once served Aslan could be broken free from his grasp, it would at least lessen his numbers. It would also free those loyal to Aslan from their bondage to the dark power, letting them rest in peace or perhaps be restored like the Fallen Army of Beruna and King Edmund the Just.
"Thank you, Satyr. Your help is appreciated. May I ask, does he still hold sway over you now? Can he still command you from afar?"
To Orrin's disappointment, the satyr nodded ever so slightly. There was the slightest hint of sadness and increasing despair in the satyr's eyes. Orrin felt somehow he wanted to help this creature. To help him break free from his grasp.
"That is unfortunate. I will take what information you have given me and try to use it to our advantage. Do you … do you desire to be free? To be free of his hold over you?"
The response was swift and affirmative. He found it amazing that in one small meeting, the satyr had gone from enemy to victim. He could still not be set free from his prison, because he would still attempt to complete the order he was given to kill King Edmund. However, he could still prove invaluable to the war effort. Somehow, Orrin found he wanted to garner information even faster than he was able to currently. Somehow, he would have to find a way to get the satyr to reveal more information even though he could not speak.
"You cannot talk. That is because you cannot breathe, is that correct? Or is it magic? The one who can speak. The one who leads the fallen army itself. Not him. Not the one who is many, but his general. Who is he? Is it the dark knight Serfiq who fought King Edmund?"
Once again, a response to the affirmative. Exactly what Orrin was waiting for.
"Was Serfiq destroyed the day he fought King Edmund in the battle against the hag?"
No response. Perhaps somehow Serfiq was still out there, awaiting his command to return with his new fallen army behind him.
"It does not matter. He can be dealt with. If you had the means, Satyr, could you write?"
Orrin smiled as the satyr barely nodded an affirmative. This satyr was proving to be a boon for information. Orrin quickly left to retrieve a piece of chalk, before coming back to the satyr. He rolled it under the iron bars to the satyr's feet. The satyr did not move or respond to it.
"Please, Satyr. If there is any part of you still bound to goodness, then help us."
Orrin was interrupted by a messenger with a summons from his wife, Susan. Though he did not wish to leave the satyr, he did as he was asked. He made the trek from the northern watchtower to the main throne room where Susan greeted him with a smile and a small bow. He returned the gesture with a full bow, as this was the throne room and he insisted on full protocol here, even though Susan detested such a thing of her husband.
"My Queen." Orrin said falling to one knee, "How may I serve?"
"Oh … I'm sorry, I cannot do this. Come with me." Susan said as she walked to the balcony adjoining the throne room, "Now, Husband, we are not in the throne room. Speak plainly or I shall be most displeased."
"I should not want to suffer your wrath." Orrin said with a happy smile as he joined Susan, "You beat me at my own game."
"Yes, well, you said we must be formal in the throne room. This is not the throne room. Besides, I do not wish to speak to you as a queen. I wish to speak as a wife. I'm afraid I have to leave on a mission to Archenland to secure more allies to our cause. I am certain they will join us, but we must not assume such things. And I do not wish to send anyone else in my stead to ask such a favor of such loyal friends."
"When do we leave?"
"Actually, you're not coming." sighed a disappointed Susan as she leaned against her husband's chest, "There is too much that must be done here. And though I would very much like to keep you for my own selfish reasons, the needs of Narnia come first. You prove far too efficient here in your tasks. Edmund will be so pleased with you. I know I am. General Oerius will rule in my stead, until Peter and Edmund return. I do hope they will be back within a few weeks at most, hopefully sooner. I will return as soon as I can."
"I see." Orrin said with a thinly masked look of disappointment, "Well … as I am first to remind you of our duties, it would be improper of me to complain now. You are taking a full infantry with you?"
"I am."
"Very well. When do you leave?"
"First light tomorrow."
"May I be so bold and request a day's break from my duties, Majesty?" Orrin asked with a sincere smile, "I would very much like to spend the rest of the day with my wife."
"I think your wife would love that." smiled an emotional Susan as she fell into her husband's arms, "You know I can barely remember a life without you."
"Yes … well I do believe I was never truly alive until I met you."
Orrin placed his hand beneath Susan's chin and tilted her head up toward him. He smiled, while still doing his best to keep his emotion in check, after all, he was a proud Shian. However, he was not so proud that he would deny Susan the knowledge of his feelings.
"There is no pride in denying the truth. No courage in hiding your emotions from those who truly matter to you." said Orrin, brushing Susan's tears with his thumbs, "I praise the day you entered my world and filled it with your radiance. Remember, my promised one, that no matter where you are, my heart goes with you."
As if to satiate a need and quell the anticipation she felt at leaving her husband, Susan leaned up and kissed him. Though the proper side of Orrin would often prohibit such an act in such a public and formal area of the castle, he let his heart win out. He wrapped his arms around his queen as the pair embraced in a passionate and loving kiss.
All throughout the kiss Susan feared the impending separation from her husband. The man who had become so great a part of her life that the thought of not having him with her was nothing less than terrifying. She thought of their attempts to have a child, and how she desperately wanted to prove the seers wrong about the prophecy that none of the four royals of Narnia would ever have children. She was desperate to have a child and prove them wrong. She was desperate to have her love for her husband realized in the eyes of their child.
"Perhaps we will be fortunate and I will return with our child growing within me." Susan said with bitter, anxious tears as she wrapped herself in her husband's arms, "And since we only have one night left, I should like to spend it trying, for I am so very desperate to have our baby. And if for nothing else, than to simply feel your love before I am forced to leave you."
QUEEN LUCY THE WEARY
In the city of Tashbaan, Lucy found herself in a difficult situation. For some reason, the Tisroc had stalled for time. For some reason he seemed intent on keeping Lucy in Calormen. Lucy had the strangest feeling that she was being deceived by the Tisroc, and that he had no intention of aiding Narnia and in turn, himself.
She had been kept in the city for much longer than she wanted or planned. Though she did not have any particular fear for her safety, due to the large contingent of Narnian that had traveled with her. Yet she always felt as though she were being misled and even watched. She was grateful she had Mr. Tumnus and Mr. Beaver to offer comfort.
Today however, she refused to be stalled any further. She demanded an audience with the Tisroc and currently stood before him, doing her best to look displeased.
He was a tall and intimidating looking man. From the top of his orance hat to the bottom of his long flowing robe, his stature was demanding. His stare was intent, as was his demeanor. Though he spoke with a tone that belied graciousness, his assuredness and slippery nature rang through.
"Tisroc, I must ask for you to make a decision today. If you do not choose to aid us, then I must leave now. I have spent too much time here already."
"Has our hospitality not been to your liking?"
"On the contrary, my fellow Narnian and I have been well treated. We are grateful for your hospitality." Lucy said sincerely, "But we have a mission of the utmost importance. Narnia needs your help, for all our sakes."
"Come, Lucy." the Tisroc said as he stepped toward a window that overlooked the southern end of the city.
Far below them, Lucy could see the long fearsome shadow of a huge army marching toward the city. Lucy did not quite know what to make of it. She was both hopeful and apprehensive. She looked up at the Tisroc as he smiled down at her.
"Narnia wants an army? They shall have one." The Tisroc said with a smile that Lucy found rather disturbing, "They shall have one."
HEARTS DIVIDED
Susan readied herself to depart Cair Paravel. She was not anxious to leave the city, but knew her cause was too great to ignore. Allies were needed for the war that threatened all. Oerius had asked to accompany Susan on her trip, however, she insisted he stay behind and rule Narnia in her absence. When Oerius suggested Prince Orrin be left in charge, she informed him that Orrin was still being accepted by Narnia, and his presence on the throne would upset some loyal Narnian.
Now she stood ready to depart, but found the task of saying goodbye to her husband a difficult one. Though he was tempted to follow protocol, Orrin's love for his wife exceeded his traditional nature. The loving couple shared a kiss that was mingled with Susan's tears and Orrin's reassuring hand on her waist.
"I will not be long, my prince." Susan sighed, "At the first sign of trouble, send for me and I shall return."
"Oerius will be a more than capable leader. I will of course aid him in any way possible. And as you said yourself, there is much work here for me to do. Just as you seek allies, I seek a means to ensure victory when the war comes."
"I will miss you terribly." Susan said as she tried to contain her tears, "Think of me often?"
"As long as I breathe, you shall occupy my thoughts." Orrin smiled, trying to veil his own emotion, "Safe journey, my queen."
Though Susan knew she had to leave, she could not bring herself to let go of her husband's hand. She had an uneasy sensation inside. She did not know whether it was because of the seers proclamation that she would not bear children. Though she began to fear that perhaps the reason she would not have children would be because they were somehow denied of a life together.
"Promise you won't get yourself killed while I'm gone?" Susan said suddenly, shocking Orrin with her frankness.
"I do not believe the war is with us yet, Susan." Orrin reassured, "It is I who should worry about you. I should be by your side."
"No … besides your duty, I am … certain I would rather you remain here. Narnia needs you."
"Perhaps you might need me too?"
Again, Susan burst into tears and fell into her husband's arms. She smothered his neck and face with anxious kisses as he held her securely in his embrace. He kissed her temple, before leaning down to kiss her lips softly. He continued to hold her until her tears subsided and she stopped shaking. Finally, she let go and made her way to her carriage. She looked back and waved at her husband, to which he responded with a small nod. It was a simple gesture to everyone else who watched, but Susan knew her husband was doing his best not to shed a tear. It would be improper after all, and yet she wished he would break a little and give her one tear to live with. She received her wish when her carriage started moving away, and with a face still staunch and proud, Orrin's eyes began to shudder ever so slightly, and a single tear fell from each eye.
"Until we meet again, Promised One." Orrin said with a pained smile, "Until we meet again."
A BALL OF A TIME
"The citizens of Galma are proud to host this mighty ball in honor of King Peter and King Edmund, to celebrate their marriage and the end of their honeymoon. We are honored that you have chosen to spend time here in Galma, a loyal friend of the lion and of Narnia."
Peter stood up alongside Edmund and led a round of applause in gratitude for the Duke of Galma's kind words. Their honeymoon was finally drawing to an end. The last two months had flown by. Though they had their share of rocky patches, the last week had been nothing short of bliss. Edmund was finally able to walk and move on his own, even though his chest still caused him discomfort. His feet had healed magnificently, so he was able to attend this ball and join in the dancing.
Now it was time for the Galma tradition of the masquerade dance to finish off the evening's festivities. Each guest would wear elaborate costumes, masks, and do all manner of things to hide their identity. The point of the dance was to make class and rank null and void. People were free to dance with whomever they liked.
"So, Edmund, are you going to tell me what your disguise is?" asked Peter as the ballroom floor began to fill with guests.
"You'll just have to find me, Peter. Just as I will have to find you. And just remember … if you ever touch anyone else but me in a fashion that is even slightly romantic, I will feel it. And when I find you, so will you. So you better make sure your lips don't touch anyone but me. Understood?"
"You wound me, Edmund."
"You'll live." Edmund laughed as he grabbed Peter and smothered him in a wet kiss, "I love you. Find me!"
With those words still hanging off Peter's lips, Edmund ran across the ballroom floor and disappeared into the crowd. Peter knew Edmund was up to something. No doubt he would've had some elaborate disguise planned. Peter however, had a disguise of his own to fool the mischievous younger king.
Peter quickly ducked away into a changing room set aside for himself and Edmund. There was no evidence of Edmund being in the room, which did not surprise Peter. He knew Edmund would no doubt be somewhere else so as not to leave any clues about his disguise.
For a time, Peter actually contemplated dressing up as a girl to further emphasize his attempts to make Edmund feel equal in their relationship. However, he knew he would not cut a very dashing figure in a dress, so instead decided to go with a disguise that was more suitable. He wore boots that added a few extra inches to his height. He wore a white cape that covered him completely from his neck to his feet. He wore a hair cover that would hide his golden locks and make it appear that he was in fact dark haired. To add to the effect he dabbled a potion in his eyes that Orrin had given him. The same potion that Orrin said the Shian would often use to dull the brilliance of their own eyes at certain times of the year. The potion made Peter's eyes much darker in appearance. To finish his disguise off, he wore a white mask that covered most of his face, save for his chin and his eyes. Hopefully it would be enough to fool the guests and perhaps even Edmund.
With an excited smile, he rushed out onto the floor. He found it exhilarating to know he was completely anonymous. Not even those in the Narnian entourage could detect him. And yet still he could not seek out Edmund.
He looked for someone who had the same height as Edmund, but thought perhaps Edmund had used the same tactic he had to mask his height. Although people could not see through his disguise, he still found himself the object of lustful stares and curious glances. Finally, one figure approached him. The figure of a woman who although masked, cut a figure that was both breathtaking and sultry.
"May I have this dance?"
"No. I'm looking for my doubt-bucket. Have you seen him? Do you even know who I mean?" Peter asked with a smirk, before moving past her.
After looking for what seemed like hours, Peter wanted to rip his mask off and reveal himself. What good was a dance if he didn't get to dance with his husband?
Finally his ears found what he had sought out. He heard the faintest giggle, and though Edmund would swear he did not giggle at all, Peter knew otherwise. He turned in the direction of the giggle but he could not see Edmund. However, he quickly realized why.
With a face red with anger, he realized he couldn't see Edmund because he was surrounded by a group of ogling men and women. Ogling men and women who were making his Edmund giggle. If he had a sword at his side, he would surely be drawing it now.
He ran toward the group of poorly disguised men, bursting through so he could find his Edmund. What he found was not Edmund at all, but empty space. He could've sworn he heard Edmund here.
"Where did he go?" Peter demanded.
"Wait your turn." One of the men responded, "He's dancing right now. When he comes back, then you can have your turn at trying to win a dance with him."
"Can you point him out to me?"
The man pointed to a section of the floor that was too heavily populated for Peter to pick Edmund out. Obviously Edmund had a disguise that was fooling his own eyes. Impatiently he leaned against the wall as he waited for Edmund to return with whomever he had just danced with. Peter had never before felt so livid with jealousy, but he felt it now. Whoever thought masquerade balls were any good? This was not fun at all. He had been seeking out his Edmund all evening, waiting for a dance. Now he finally found him, he realized Edmund had probably been dancing all night with men who wanted to do things that only Peter was allowed to do.
Peter remained to the outer circle of the men, trying to calm his frayed temper with a goblets of wine. He pulled anxiously at his cloak, thinking of what he would say when Edmund returned. He wanted nothing less than to rip off both their masks and march them home so he could tell Edmund how frightfully angry and jealous he was. Yet when he finally saw what must have been Edmund, he realized just why he hadn't been able to find him. He broke out in a smirk as he realized both he and Edmund must have gone to Orrin for some the 'pretty eye' potion. Edmund's eyes were now a brilliant blue, much like Peter's normally. To top it off, he wore a very convincing wig that made his hair appear to be long and blonde. Ironically, they had both tried to disguise themselves with features of the other. Edmund almost looked like a Shian, for his skin was golden instead of pale, as he must've worn some make up to cover the freckles and pale skin beneath his mask. By all means, if it wasn't for the giggle, Peter would never have picked Edmund out. He looked like a different person, which Peter found quite unsettling.
"Thank you, kind sir for the wonderful dance." said the man whom Edmund had just been dancing with, "You are as beautiful as you are graceful."
Peter felt his fist clenching around the goblet, a burning rage of jealousy in his heart. He felt as though either the goblet would bend under his pressure or his hand would break. How dare someone else speak to his husband in such a fashion. How dare they touch their hands to the small of his Edmund's back. How dare they lean in as if expecting a kiss.
Were it not for Edmund's polite rebuff of the man's advances, Peter believed he would have stepped forward and beaten the man senseless. He wondered if this was how Edmund felt when he had first returned to Cair Paravel and witnessed himself dancing with Princess Eris. In his own mind, Peter made it a point to never allow a masquerade ball to be held in Narnia again.
"I'm next!" Called a man who was clearly drunk, "I've been waiting the longest!"
"I believe it's the turn of a lady." said a rather tall Galma woman.
"Well when you find one, you let me know!"
"Is there no one else here who would like to dance with me?" Edmund asked, looking around the group.
Peter's mouth clenched tight as dozens seemed to fawn for his Edmund's attention. What a horrible evening, Peter thought. He felt as though he would explode from rage at any moment. He drank the rest of his wine and promptly pulled another goblet from a waiter's tray. Still, Edmund had not chosen someone new to dance with, even though many fawned for his attention.
"Is there no one else?" Edmund asked again, "Oh come on, Peter! It took you this long to find me and you're not even going to ask me to dance?"
Peter almost dropped his goblet in surprise when he realized Edmund was staring straight at him. The crowd of onlookers still didn't figure out that he was King Peter, which was perhaps a good thing. However, they were intrigued that he had the attention of Edmund, whom they had obviously been ogling over all evening.
Yet Peter found his jealous rage still burned bitterly inside him. He did not answer Edmund and feigned ignorance to his questioning. How could Edmund have even danced with anyone else? Then he remembered they were at a masquerade ball.
"No, it's my turn!" cried the drunk man as he grabbed Edmund's arm.
His rage finally overwhelming his better judgment, Peter almost ran forward and lunged at the man. Though under the circumstances, he behaved rather well. Instead of beating the man senseless, he simply ripped his arm away from the man and glared at him.
"He's mine!" Peter yelled, almost childishly, "Any of you even look at him and I'll rip all your heads off!"
Edmund stifled a laugh before dragging Peter away to the dance floor, leaving a rather perplexed group of onlookers behind him. Still seething with anger, Peter found Edmund's gentle hands on his waist a sufficient deterrent. The younger king led Peter in a gentle dance across the floor. In no time at all, Peter's anger melted and he realized how juvenile he had behaved. And yet he did not believe he had done anything wrong.
"I don't want you to ever dance with anyone else ever again. Understand, Edmund?" Peter growled, "I don't want anyone even looking at you! You're mine! You're my husband and I'm not sharing you. Ever!"
"Peter, are you jealous?" Edmund grinned, his current blue eyes making Peter rather uncomfortable, "By the way, I like the disguise. Brown eyes don't really suit you though. Blue is definitely your color."
"I could say the same about you. I want us to leave right now and take these ridiculous disguises off. And did I mention we're never attending a masquerade ball again?"
"Peter's jealous." Edmund teased, "I just wanted to see if you were right about me having plenty of suitors. If it makes you feel better, only two of them kissed me."
Peter tensed up so fast, he almost gave himself a stroke. His hands froze rigid on Edmund's shoulder and hand, and he thought he would explode from fury right there. Where was that sword when he needed it?
"I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill them all."
"Peter, Peter!" laughed a mischievous Edmund, "I'm sorry. Nobody kissed me. They tried, but the best they got was cheek when I was too slow to rebuff them."
"They kissed your cheek?" said a Peter who was quickly becoming livid.
"Peter, you're not angry, are you? Nothing happened, you know. It's just harmless fun. And it sure was fun!"
Peter dragged Edmund away from the dance floor till they were outside the ballroom. There were plenty of couples enjoying one another's company, but there was a little more peace than inside. At least there was, until Peter started venting his rage at Edmund.
"You're mine!" Peter yelled, his fists clenched in anger, "Nobody else gets to touch you! You're mine!"
"Peter, it's ok. Calm down." Edmund said trying not to smile so much, "It's ok, Peter."
"I will kill anyone who ever touches you or even looks at you. You're my husband!"
"This is wonderful." Edmund laughed, "You're really jealous. Oh this evening has been wonderful."
"How can you say that? I'm not joking!
"Peter, you're adorable when you're jealous."
"Edmund … I am furious."
"Come, come. Kiss me, kiss me." Edmund laughed, "Edmund will make it all better."
"You're mine, Edmund." Peter gasped as he smashed his lips against Edmund's, in a kiss that was neither tender nor gentle.
Indeed, it was a kiss born from both fury and desperation. Peter wanted to claim his Edmund. He wanted to touch and taste and remind himself that Edmund was real and just for him. For once he was grateful for their disguises, because nobody would think anything of he and Edmund kissing with so much passion in public. Because nobody would know who they were. Peter soon found his fury fueling his passion, as he gripped and groped at Edmund with hands still rigid with rage.
He soon had Edmund back against the railing as his lips sought out the sweet flesh of his neck. Edmund for his part seemed to enjoy being made such a fuss of. Peter's passion was palpable.
Peter seemed to care little for any onlookers as he pulled at Edmund's shirt, so his lips would have access to the younger king's shoulder. It wasn't till he pulled the shirt over Edmund's chest that he heard a gasp of protest.
"Ow! Still sore, Peter." Edmund whined, "Gently."
"Oh, I'm sorry, my love. I completely forgot." Peter gasped, realizing he'd unintentionally gripped Edmund's wound, "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you bad?"
"No. It's just … still a little tender. I'm fine, really."
"Can't you see what you do to me?" Peter moaned with anguish as he buried his head in Edmund's neck, "I could barely stop myself from throttling them all for looking at you. The thought of anyone else …"
"I'm sorry I upset you." sighed Edmund as he realized Peter was actually tearing up a little, "You really were angry, weren't you?"
"Edmund, I don't think I've ever been so angry before. Except for when you bloody well died on me. But I was truly furious with rage tonight. I hated it. I was completely jealous. I am a weak fool for your love and affection. I am jealous and completely mad whenever I see anyone even look at you. I cannot share you with anyone else."
"And who says you ever will? It was just fun, I assure you. They didn't know who I was. It was just dancing. It was fun having people take notice of me."
"Do I not take enough notice of you?" Peter asked as he turned his head up to face Edmund, his eyes pleading, "Am I not sufficient for your attention?"
"Of course you are, Peter. It was cruel of me to tease you so."
"How did you know it was me?"
"You forget, Peter. Even blind I can find you, remember?" Edmund smiled as he kissed the tip of Peter's nose, "Benefits of being the Rogue Warrior."
"I feel like a complete idiot." Peter laughed, "My goodness, thank heavens they didn't know who I was. Yelling and fussing over you like you were my property. I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."
"Believe me, you have nothing to be sorry for. I am fortunate to have someone who is so passionate about me. It is nice to be appreciated, Peter, but only by you. And you need not have feared. No one else will ever have my attention. I am your husband, remember?"
"Can I interest you in a dance?" Peter said with a gentle sigh, "And would you possibly mind if I keep my hand attached to yours for the rest of the evening, lest anyone think you're available?"
"Oh, Peter. You're so adorable."
Edmund laughed as he hugged Peter, jumping onto the older king and wrapping his legs around his waist. Peter sighed gratefully as the two kings shared a kiss beneath the night sky. After an eventful honeymoon, Peter was looking forward to heading home. But for their last night of celebrations before the trip back, he was intent on making the most of it. He spun around with Edmund hanging off him, their lips still locked together.
"Oh, Peter. This has been such a wonderful honeymoon." Edmund laughed as they finally stopped kissing, "And tonight has been splendid."
"Are you mad? Our honeymoon has been a complete …"
"It's been wonderful, Peter. Ok?"
"Really?"
"Yes, really. I wouldn't change a thing. Even this." Edmund said flashing his chest wound, "It's a love scar. Just to remind you of how much I'm willing to do for you, Peter. Are you enjoying this ball, Peter?"
"Well … not really, no."
"Would you rather we … retire?" Edmund said as he kissed Peter's earlobe, "Would you like to have me tonight?"
"Edmund …" Peter gasped, gripping Edmund tighter to him, "Are you sure you're up to it? It's been a while. You're still hurt."
"Trust me, I'll manage. Besides, the last official night of our honeymoon should be filled with sweet love. One more dance and then we retire. My king needs love to remind him that I am only for him."
"Would you like to have me to, Edmund?" Peter asked, his eyes serious and unwavering, "Would you like to have me?"
The implications of Peter's words were not lost on Edmund. Even as he still hung off Peter, he leaned his head back in surprise and almost concern. Though Edmund had voice much disapproval at feeling inferior next to Peter, he liked Peter feeling secure in himself. He liked Peter being masculine and strong. Even though he had complained about being confused about his role in their relationship, Edmund still wasn't sure he wanted Peter to submit to him.
"No, Peter." Edmund said shaking his head, "I do not wish to have you. You have me, that is how it works."
"We are equals. You are not mine for my pleasure. We are each other's for both our pleasure. Marriage is compromise, not domination. Again I ask, do you wish to have me? Because I am yours to have whenever you desire."
"Umm … I … don't know. We'll see, ok?"
"Ok, my love." Peter said stealing a series of sweet, chaste kisses, "How about that dance?"
THE SCENT OF WAR IS PRECEEDED BY BETRAYAL
Prince Orrin stood in the center of the strategy room of Cair Paravel with Oerius and some of the senior members of the Order of Justice and the security council. He stood with both his two long swords drawn and crossed, as a sign of respect to his peers. The topic of discussion was of course, the threat of a coming war. Narnia's army was in a strong position, with large numbers and healthy ranks. Yet no one was complacent in the challenge that lay ahead.
"Prince Orrin." Oerius said with a nod of acknowledgment, "The council is ready to hear you. Please speak."
"Greetings. As you all know, he is amassing in army in the shadows of the north. We do not know where exactly, but it is widely believed he is beyond or near the veil that marks the far north of the world. This army is a direct result of the Fallen Army of Beruna's existence. According to King Edmund, balance must be kept. That balance we believe is about to be brought into effect. He has an army, of both living and fallen. His fallen army is a balance to offset the army that Aslan used. Aslan's army fought for light. This army … does not. That is the balance. However, I do believe that many of this new army were once servants of Aslan who were sent to Salei Barion at varying times over the history of the world. Some from before the war with the witch that failed to stop the winter. Some from earlier than that. Some from as recent as a year ago. We do not know how many there are, but it is reasonable to assume that it will be at least equal to the size of the Fallen Army of Beruna. As you know, fallen are extremely formidable enemies. We have information that leads us to believe that with the living who are joining his army, he will have enough numbers to take the major kingdoms and the eastern islands, from Galma to Doorn. We cannot do anything to turn his living contingent to our cause. However, it is my strong belief that those who served Aslan in life, can be broken from his bondage."
"Are you certain of this?" Oerius asked with a raised eyebrow, "If there are fallen who once served Aslan in life, you believe we can break them from his control and return them to our side?"
"It is my strong belief that there is a possibility. But until I know how, that is all it is."
"We have organized our armies with the notion of fighting on one front. Is there anything you know that would recommend a different strategy?" asked Oerius.
"He will march from the north. I believe it would be wise for us to meet him north of Ettinsmoor, at the bracken ridges. The landscape offers us an opportunity to pincer his army and reduce the effectiveness of his numbers. However, Ettinsmoor is in my opinion not to be trusted. The Order of Justice has procured information that confirms that Ettinsmoor has been infiltrated by him, as evidenced by the satyr's entry into Narnia as part of a delegation from Ettinsmoor. This is a disturbing fact. It means he is alrea…"
"Prince Orrin!" yelled a centaur as he cantered into the room, "The satyr. You must see."
"Please excuse me." Orrin said with a nod, "I must tend to this matter."
Orrin followed quickly behind the centaur, who seemed to be in a great hurry. Even with his two legs compared to the centaur's four, Orrin managed to keep close behind. They made it to the northern watchtower where Orrin found a most unsettling sight in the satyr's cell. The entire cell was covered in drawings and writings in chalk.
At first Orrin was confused. The satyr's writing was messy and incoherent, until Orrin studied harder and began to decipher it. There were names of kingdoms. Names of people he did not know. Drawings of creatures and things he had never seen. However, one list of names quickly caught Orrin's attention. Under one name, Aslan, was a list of names and nations that Orrin expected. Narnia, King Edmund, Archenland, and various other allies. However, the list next to Aslan, was simply titled 'him'. Under this list was Serfiq, Ettinsmoor, The Lone Islands, and many other names.
"Are you saying these nations will join him?" Orrin asked hurriedly, "Will they join his cause?"
The satyr did not respond. Orrin knew he was asking the wrong question. With a rush of anxiety, he steadied himself and asked again.
"Are you saying they have already joined him? Has he already infiltrated their nations?"
Now he received a response. A response that sent a shiver up Orrin's spine. An affirmative response. He had allies. Somehow he had secured allies without Narnia's knowledge.
"I thought his army was coming from the north!" Orrin yelled in anxiety, "Is his army coming from the north?"
The satyr responded with a barely visible nod. So his army was still coming from the north. That fact made Orrin feel a tiny sense of relief. It was better to know where the enemy was coming from, than be surprised later. And yet, he still felt uneasy.
"Are you telling me that these nations are going to fight? Are they going to turn on those of us who wish to defeat him? This war is going to be fought between many nations and not just between us and him?"
If the Shian had a curse word, Orrin would've used it right then. For months he had worked on the assumption that this war, though great, would be fought against one army. Now he was beginning to realize just why the dwarf told him this would be a war to entail all lands. That knowledge made Orrin shiver with fear. This war would indeed change the face of the world.
"We can't fight those many numbers on our own. We can't on that many fronts." Orrin said with anger, "How could he do this right under our noses?"
And yet the satyr was not done. He pointed to writing on the ground that Orrin did not understand. He leaned down closer to the bars so he could read it.
'First betrayal to the lion, then she falls '
These words were followed be a space beneath them. A few inches beneath those words were another set that Orrin quickly read.
'Then war begins that never ends, they come to you disguised as friends'
Orrin did not understand. First betrayal to the lion was fairly obvious. Ettinsmoor, perhaps? But then who was she? Who would fall? His mind raced in a panic.
"Archenland? Will Archenland betray the lion?" asked a frantic Orrin, "Is Queen Susan in danger?"
No response. Before Orrin could hazard another guess, the satyr began writing in the space. Orrin could barely read his writing. It was almost as if the satyr's hands were fighting themselves to even write the words. No doubt the clash in his spirit was great, and Orrin hoped the satyr would win out long enough to finish writing. Thankfully, he did.
'Calormen'
"Calormen?" Orrin said confused as he stood up.
Slowly, Orrin began to digest the meaning of the satyr's writing. Calormen would be the first to betray them. They would take Narnia by surprise from the south, in the guise of friendship, while he came from the north, and more war came from the Lone Islands, and who knew how many others. The names in each list between Aslan and Him were barely even, in favor of him, the one who is many. This war would not be fought in one place. It would be fought in many lands, and rain death in numbers too great for Orrin to comprehend.
"And then she falls?" Orrin said to himself, before a cold look of realization passed over his face, "Queen Lucy."
"Guard!" Orrin yelled, "Make sure General Oerius sees this!"
In a flash, Orrin stood up and marched straight out of the watchtower. Without skipping a beat he burst into a run, his hands checking his armor and his swords. His mind raced with the knowledge the satyr had given him. He knew he should warn Oerius, but he dared not waste any time. They would have to read the satyr's words themselves.
"Roan!" Orrin yelled as he ran along the center courtyard, "Gryphon wing, fly!"
Roan's cry pierced the air as he flew into the sky and soared to Orrin's side. Orrin jumped as the creature swooped down. He leaped onto Roan, without Roan even having to land. He mounted the gryphon's back and they flew into the air, followed swiftly behind by a horde of gryphon.
"To where do we fly, Sire?" Roan asked as they flew high above Cair Paravel.
"To Calormen! Tashbaan!" Orrin yelled above the roar of the wind, "To Queen Lucy! She is in danger! Give me all the speed you have, Roan! We must hurry!"
- TO BE CONTINUED -
Peter and Edmund return toCair Paravel, . Susan forges more allies for the coming war. Orrin flies to Calormen to save Lucy from the Tisroc's deception.
A/N: I told youthere was a war coming, but I'm sure none of you imagined it would be like this. I'm about to turn the world of Narnia on it's head. But since I've already done so already with Peter/Edmund, I doubt anyone will care about a war to end all wars, which is what the last volume was always hinting towards. If you haven't figured out, 'he', or 'the one who is many', has been the real big bad since volume one. But a, nope, I will shut up. I just hope you like the story. This chapter is really long, but don't expect them all to be that way. But you can expect this volume to be the longest, which is good because it's the last. I want to make it extra awesome, which is why the build up has been slow, but you can already see the pieces falling into place. All of the four pevensies have quite critical roles in this volume. First volume was Peter/Edmund, second was Peter/Edmund and Susan, third is Peter/Edmund, Susan, and Lucy. All with their own thing going on. I really hope you're enjoying Just and Magnificent. If you do, please review and let me know what you liked and why, or just review anyway, reviews make me feel good and are food for my literary soul! So please review!
