Chapter 4--Because Of You

A/N: Wow, four reviews in one day! Didn't expect that! I'm glad you all like this story.

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With a sharp, horrified gasp, Peter woke up.

"Are you okay?" Edmund's sleepy mumble came from across the room.

Peter, overwhelmed by a dizzy nausea, scrambled out of bed and out of the room, grabbing his bathrobe from the bedpost en route. He could hear Edmund hurrying after him as he stumbled through the now familiar passageways of Professor Kirke's home. "Peter, what in the name of all sense! It's two in the morning!"

"I've got to do something!" Peter snapped. Flinging the door to the spare room open, he dove at the wardrobe.

"What's going on?" Edmund demanded as he stumbled into the dark room behind his brother. "You look batty."

Frantically, Peter twisted the wardrobe's door handle and climbed inside, pushing fur coats out of his way. He stopped as his fingertips touched wood, and he faced the solid back of the wardrobe.

"No!" Peter shouted, and attacked the wood with his fists. "No, let me in, please! Please!"

"Peter, the Professor said we can't get back to Narnia by the wardrobe," a bemused Edmund stated.

"I have to get in! I'll get Lucy!" Peter tumbled out of the wardrobe and would have followed through with his hasty plan if Edmund hadn't intervened. He grabbed the older boy's shoulders and twisted him around to face him.

"Peter, shut up! Calm down!" Edmund yelled into Peter's white face. "This is ridiculous!"

Suddenly quiet, Peter flung Edmund away and turned his back on him. "You don't understand." His voice was strained and low.

"Well, maybe if you'd tell me what your problem is instead of carrying on like it's the apocalypse!"

A lengthy, nervous silence. At last Peter faced Edmund, terror and moonlight reflected in his grey eyes. "It's Victoria."

Edmund's eyes widened.

"I had a dream...I think she's in danger."

"In danger of what?" Edmund demanded.

Sadly, Peter shut the wardrobe door. "She needs me."

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Tumnus grinned and shook his head.

"What?" Victoria asked, plopping a heavy, dusty stack of books on the table.

Early sunlight glowed through the windows of Cair Paravel's massive library, while Tumnus and Victoria sweated over rearranging countless books on their shelves; Victoria planned to open the library for public use.

"I was just remembering," Tumnus chuckled, "something your father did."

"What?"

Tumnus dragged an enormous book down from a shelf with some difficulty. "Well, when he first crowned, Arran was always trying to push him around, tell him what to do--"

"Lord Arran?" Victoria questioned. "My father knew him?"

"Yes, though neither liked the other much. Well, one day, while the Kings and Queens were still fighting the giants up north, the High King held a meeting with the nobles, to hear what they thought should be done. And at that meeting, Lord Arran's temper got the better of him. He stood up in the middle of the Great Hall and started shrieking about how he didn't have to listen to a 'oversympathetic royal whelp' and how he was smarter than anyone in the room." Tumnus again smiled. "The Kings and Queens tried to shut him up, but he just yelled over them. And finally, King Peter stood up, grabbed a flagon of wine, and tossed it at Lord Arran."

Victoria clapped her hand to her mouth to stifle her shriek of laughter. "Really?"

"I saw the whole thing," Tumnus declared proudly. "He was soaked. He could only stand there, dripping and mumbling curses while the whole assembly laughed at him."

"Wish I could've seen that," Victoria smiled.

A knock on the library doors made both jump. "Come in," Victoria called.

The doors exploded open, and Oreius dashed in, his normally stoic face urgent. "Your Majesty," he puffed, dipping into a bow. "Glasswater has been attacked."

Victoria froze. The books in her hands dropped and hit the floor with a papery crack.

"What?" she cried.

"Early this morning, the Calormen militia docked at Glasswater, apparently disguised as traders," Oreius explained.

"What did they do?" Victoria asked blankly.

Oreius sighed. "So far, there are two hundred dead, including women and children. Calormen has declared war against us."

Victoria reached out, grabbing the edge of the table to steady herself as her stomach boiled with fear.

"But what did we...what did we do to them?" she gasped.

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"It's a little late to be slamming doors and yelling, isn't it?" a slightly amused voice asked from the spare room door.

Peter and Edmund whirled about, startled, but relaxed as Professor Kirke stepped into the dim light from the windows. He, like the boys, was protected from the house's chill by a bathrobe, and of course, a pipe hung from his mouth.

"Y-yes sir," Peter stammered. "I'm sorry. It was me."

"Well," Professor Kirke shoved his hands in his bathrobe pockets. "Just see if you can get back to your bedroom with as little door-slamming and yelling as possible, and I'll forgive you."

The boys headed for the door, but before Peter could get out, Professor Kirke tapped him on the shoulder.

"A word with you in my study, young man."

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"So," Lord Arran smirked. "Calormen has attacked."

"Yes, my lord," Victoria sighed.

Oreius entered the Great Hall and bowed to Victoria as he took his post next to the Four Thrones.

Lord Arran began to pace musingly around the Great Hall. "So, Calormen has declared war against Narnia."

"You know they have, my lord," Victoria replied. "What do you suggest--"

"So, you have no idea why. You believe this attack was unprovoked," Lord Arran sneered.

Oreius impatiently pawed with one hoof at the floor.

Victoria shifted uneasily in her throne. "I do."

Eyebrow raised, Lord Arran haugtily climbed the marble steps up to Victoria's throne. He stood and glared at her, mouth twisted into a horrible, resentful grimace. "You are wrong, Majesty."

Victoria shrank back. "What? But we haven't--"

"Think about it logically, for once in your life, Majesty," Lord Arran spat, his already narrow eyes becoming mere slits. "The Tisroc asked you politely and humbly to revise our trading policies. You refused."

"I had good reason--" Victoria began.

"AND NOW," Lord Anders interrupted loudly. "Now, you've angered the Tisroc, and he has reacted in a perfectly natural way."

"Natural!" Victoria breathed.

"Do not interrupt your elder!" Lord Arran roared, stamping emphatically on the marble.

"Control yourself, my lord!" Oreius snapped.

But Lord Arran continued. "Don't you see? This is no unprovoked attack; you provoked it! You aggravated the delicate state of peace we had with Calormen, and now we're at war with them. This is your fault." He leaned into Victoria's face and hissed, "This is all happening because of you."

Victoria's grey eyes shimmered with tears.

"Oh, fine, cry all you like, but it won't solve your problem," Lord Arran scoffed. "I just hope you learn your lesson from this unfortunate incident--you don't know much. Only your elders know what's good for you. If I've told you so once, I've told you a hundred times. But would you listen? No." He folded his silk-wrapped arms and spoke coldly. "That's your problem, you know. You're too stupid to be queen."

Oreius said nothing, but his eyes burned with righteous anger as he fiddled with the hilt of his sword.

Victoria pressed her hands against her face and sobbed. He's right, her heart moaned. It's my fault. I'm not cut out to be a ruler.

But even as she thought that, another voice whispered into her mind: Yes, you are.

She gasped as she recognised the voice. It was her father, the High King Peter. His voice continued, There is a Deep Magic that governs everyone's destiny: yours, and mine. This is your destiny. This is your time. Rise up, and show everyone that you are just what Aslan has made you...Queen of Narnia.

Wrapping her fingers around the gold ring hanging from her neck, Victoria bit her lip. Wherever you are, Father, I will still search for you...But first, I'll make you proud.

Victoria lifted her head up, and her soul felt immersed in a vast peace. She held her back straight and glared proudly at Lord Arran. "You're wrong, my lord," she said serenely. "I am Queen of Narnia...and you are just a silly man who thinks nobody appreciates him."

Lord Arran's mouth dropped open. "How dare you call me silly!"

Victoria only continued staring at him, with dignity and tranquility.

"Fine," Lord Arran snorted. "I'm not intimidated by snotty looks." He plumped down into a mahogany chair. "Now, do something useful and get me some wine."

Who does this man think he is? Victoria wondered, not moving from her throne.

"Now, girl!" Lord Arran barked.

A defiant anger Victoria had never felt took over her as she arose. She didn't even give herself time to think her action through, as she usually would. Snatching up the decanter of wine on the table near her throne, she stomped down the marble steps, and stood before Lord Arran.

"What are you doing, girl?" Lord Arran snarled. "Serve me the wine."

"Yes, my lord," Victoria replied meekly, just before she dumped the decanter's expensive contents over Lord Arran's head.

Lord Arran bellowed and jumped to his feet as the wine soaked through his clothes. Calmly, Victoria returned to her throne. As she sat, she turned her eyes towards Oreius. His face was as unexpressive as usual, but his eyes radiated pride and approval.

"Summon our troops to Cair," Victoria commanded. "We will retaliate."