Cries of outrage surrounded him, deafening and heart-wrenching. Caspian had never imagined the pain his people had caused the Narnians. To him, until that moment, they were nought but forbidden fairytales, told in the dark hours of the night by his nurse or, more recently, Doctor Cornelius. In spite of never having met them before, he knew many of their races. Centaurs, minotaurs, satyrs, and fauns. Dwarves, giants, and various animals, some talking.

"All this horn proves is that they've stolen yet another thing from us!"

The Telmarine prince was taken aback. "I didn't steal anything!"

"Didn't steal anything," a minotaur shouted in protest. "Shall we list the things the Telmarines have taken?"

A cacophony of yells and shouts shook the glade and Caspian had to use all his willpower not to close his hands over his ears. He had to listen to them. They would never agree to help if he did not, and if they did not help, neither he nor they would be able to bring down Miraz. Our homes, they cried. Our lands, they shouted. Our freedom. Caspian knew the story of why the Telmarines had left their homeland. They had lived in awful conditions, their freedom impeded by the Calormene rule. He never knew that Telmarine freedom had come at the cost of Narnian lives. "You would hold me accountable for all the crimes of my people?"

"Accountable… and punishable."

"That is rich coming from you, dwarf," the mouse chief Reepicheep remarked. "Have you forgotten your people's stance in the war against the Witch?"

Nikabrik shook his head. "Had the Great Witch been here, the blasted Telmarines never would have even attempted an invasion!" He would have been proud to fight alongside the greatest magical power Narnia had ever seen and he would be glad to do so if given the opportunity. He said as much, a hushed silence receiving his words.

"Then it's lucky that it is not in your power to bring her back," Trufflehunter the badger stated solemnly. "Or are you suggesting that we ask this boy to go against Aslan now?" More protests rose around them, all of the gathered Narnians enraged with the prospect of betraying the Great Lion. It was he who had built the shelters found around Narnia when the Telmarines came. It was he who protected them when the four kings and queens vanished. "Some of you may have forgotten, but we badgers remember well, that Narnia was never right except when a son of Adam was king."

"He's a Telmarine," Nikabrik interjected. "Why would we want him as our king?"

Caspian saw and grasped his chance to have them listen. "Because I can help you!" Silence fell again and he was grateful. It seemed they were willing to hear what he had to say, in spite of their distrust in him. "Beyond these woods, I'm a prince," he told them vehemently. "The Telmarine throne is rightfully mine!" He held the horn tightly in his hand, a symbol of how fate had brought him to the Narnians. While he was uncertain if he believed in magic, it had to mean something that it had come into his possession. "Help me claim it, and I can bring peace between us."

"It is true," the centaur Glenstorm said, stepping forward. "The time is ripe." Slowly, he made his way around the circle, eyes locked on the figure lurking in the shadows. They had been watching for a long time, going unnoticed by all except those who knew they would be there. "I watch the skies, for it is mine to watch as it is yours to remember, badger," he continued, looking out over the assorted Narnians, "Tarva, the lord of victory, and Alambil, the lady of peace, have come together in the high heavens." His gaze returned to the cloaked figure, then flicked to Caspian. It was a momentous occasion. "And now here, a son of Adam has come forth to offer us back our freedom."

"Do you really think it's possible," a squirrel named Pattertwig asked excitedly. "Do you think he can bring us peace, truly?"

Caspian could feel the hesitation. They were starting to believe him. "Two days ago, I didn't believe in the existence of talking animals, or dwarves, or centaurs," he stated, allowing his awe at being allowed in the presence of the magnificent beings he had been raised to see as beasts shine through. "Yet here you are, in strengths and numbers that we Telmarines could never have imagined." He held the horn up for all to see, drawing his own strength from it. "Whether this horn is magic or not, it brought us together," he spoke passionately, "and together, we have a chance to take back what is ours!"'

"Ours?" A mirthless chuckle, cold and raspy. "Bold words coming from someone whose place in Narnia was given to him only after it was taken by force from those who earned it."

A stunned silence fell over the glade. Soundlessly, the cloaked figure moved into the circle, stepping right up to Caspian. Thin fingers, skeletal and sickly pale, reached out to touch him. No one dared to move, placing the life of their saviour in the hands of a stranger. Chilled fingertips ran over his features. Though the stranger's face was hidden in the darkness of the hood, they could all feel how intently they studied the prince. When the figure withdrew their hand, the gathered rebels flinched. The figure looked over their shoulder, meeting Glenstorm's gaze. A short nod.

"If you will lead us, then my sons and I offer your our swords," he proclaimed, drawing his sword as he looked at Caspian. Around him, several others did the same. Reepicheep bowed deeply, verbally confirming what they all were thinking. They would lay down their lives for Caspian.

"Very well," the stranger murmured, voice barely loud enough to carry. "We have an army after us and you need a place to hide."

Caspian faced the stranger again, daring to speak for the first time. "I take it you know where to go?"

"Indeed."

"Remind me why we came this way?"

Peter groaned. It was enough that the dwarf was continuously questioning him, he really did not need Susan on his case as well. It was hardly his fault that centuries had passed, allowing for new paths to form while the ones he knew by heart disappeared with the changing forest. He glared towards the other side of the gorge. Back in the day, there had only been a shallow river between them and the other side. They had already had a trying day, what with Lucy being attacked by a bear and Edmund's retreating into himself. He had not spoken a word since the revelation that Adeline did not exist in this new Narnia. Not while Trumpkin informed them about Caspian X, not during the bear's attack, not even during the discussions about which way to go even though Edmund knew the forests better than anyone after his many hunts with Adeline. "This is the quickest way to the Shuddering Woods, which is where Trumpkin last saw Caspian."

"But evidently, there's no way for us to get down and across."

"Except for falling."

Lucy ignored the eldest siblings and the dwarf, looking across the gorge while holding onto Edmund's hand tightly. He had been reluctant to accept her comfort but eventually allowed the gesture after the bear, and Lucy was perfectly content to let him believe he was comforting her rather than the other way around. She knew her brother well and could see the rage burning inside of him. Even though the conclusion had been silent, they had all reached it. Adeline had been killed. Likely during one of the Telmarine attacks. He wanted vengeance, but Lucy refused to let Edmund be consumed by it.

Something moved behind the trees on the other side of the gorge, drawing her attention. She almost thought she had imagined it until it moved again. That mane. She would recognise it anywhere. "Aslan!" Excited, she turned to the grumbling trio, who had glanced up at her exclamation. "It's Aslan, look, he's over there!" But when they all turned to look, he was gone. Already knowing what was coming, Lucy deflated.

"Do you see him now?"

Lucy frowned at the dwarf. "He really was there, you know, perhaps you didn't look quick enough." Edmund's grip on her hand tightened and she gladly accepted the gesture. It meant a lot coming from him.

"I'm sure there are plenty of wild lions in Narnia, Lu," Peter said gently, not wanting to upset her.

"Actually, there should only be a couple of lions left, if any at all," Edmund murmured. His siblings looked up at him, stunned to hear him speak again. And while he wanted to keep moping, he refused to allow them to ridicule Lucy as he once had, whether they did it inadvertently or not. "She told me that the Witch hunted the lions to near extinction as a barb at Aslan," he explained quietly. "And I only remember seeing one other lion besides Aslan in Narnia."

Trumpkin cleared his throat. "Well, you're all mad if you think I'll willingly fall to my death chasing a fairytale."

"The last time I didn't believe Lucy, I ended up looking pretty stupid," Edmund bit back. "All of us did, as you may recall." His sister gave him a grateful smile.

Peter sighed. "It doesn't matter," he reminded them. "Even if Aslan is waiting on the other side, there's no way for us to cross."

"There's a ford near Beruna," Trumpkin said, unwilling to entertain the possibility of Aslan being real. "How do you feel about swimming?"

Only, they could not cross the ford either. Telmarines swarmed the shores, hacking and chopping at massive logs. The foundations of a bridge stretched across the water. Even Susan had to admit that they, and the dwarf, had made a mistake in coming to Beruna.

Lucy tried not to gloat and Edmund pretended like he did not see the satisfied smile on her face.

"Where did you see Aslan?"

Exasperated, Lucy glared at her brother. "You could at least try to sound like you believe me," she snapped. "If you all stopped trying to act like grown-ups, this would be a lot easier for all of us." Only Edmund, who had reverted back to silence, had shown her any support. And while she was grateful for him, she wished Susan and Peter could act like her siblings, rather than her caretakers.

"I am a grown-up," Trumpkin mumbled, contrite.

"I swear it to you, it was right over—" The ground disappeared beneath her feet and she screamed. The landing was both harder and softer than she had imagined, disorienting her for a bit before she realised that she was sitting on a ledge beneath the others. Above her, Susan shouted her name and she could hear all of them rushing forward. She grinned, looking up to see Edmund peering down at her. "Here," she breathed. "It was right over here." Her brother shook his head, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

A most convenient path had been carved by nature into the cliff. Lucy took the lead, much to Peter's obvious displeasure. She silently hoped he would think twice about dismissing her again. They walked down the cliffside, crossing the river. By nightfall, they had made it to the other side and were settled in a makeshift camp.

That night, Edmund was plagued with the strangest dreams. He could not quite make sense of it. There was howling and chanting. A flash of silver shocked him out of his sleep. Tiredly glancing around, he realised that it was morning and that Lucy and Peter were gone. Immediately, he was on high alert, shaking Susan and Trumpkin to wake them. They both grumbled darkly at him until he told them that the others were missing.

Before they could even start searching, the sound of swords clashing reached them. They all rolled their eyes. Because, well, there was a reason Edmund was the diplomat. As one, the trio rushed in the direction of the ruckus, hoping to find Peter and Lucy before either of them got seriously hurt.

Upon arrival at the scene, Edmund had to fight not to pinch the bridge of his nose. Lucy stood, exposed to all the dangers of the forest, watching as Peter was about to bludgeon a young Telmarine to death with a rock. Somehow, the stranger had Rhindon in hand. Bloody hell, Pete. Edmund was not even surprised to see him surrounded by Narnians. He actually remembered where to go. He had already figured out that they were in the Dancing Lawn, just a few miles west of the Stone Table.

"Peter!" Susan was outraged by the mere insinuation that Peter was about to kill someone in cold blood. He was supposed to set an example for Lucy and the other Narnians.

"Prince Caspian?" He could scarcely believe his eyes. The arrogant youngling in front of him was supposed to be the same hero of Narnia who had blown Susan's horn to call them back? Right. And Edmund had not, in fact, betrayed them to the White Witch.

Caspian glared back at the young man in front of him. The girl had called him Peter. But surely he could not be the great king from the stories? That Peter would have been an old man. Perhaps it was a family name, and the aggressive one in front of him was a descendant? He looked down at the sword in his hand. Leather wrapped around solid gold, a lion's head open in a silent roar. An inscription on the blade. No, there was no denying it. He was stood in front of… "High King Peter."

"Oh, please don't call him that," Edmund groaned, loud enough for the others to hear. "He's already big-headed enough as it is."

Magnanimously, Peter decided to deal with his brother later. His gaze never left Caspian. "I believe you called."

"Well, yes, but… I thought you'd be older."

Peter drew back. "If you like, we could come back in a few years…" He did not actually know if that was possible, or if they even had time to wait that long.

"No!" Caspian tried to compose himself. "No, that's all right." He found it hard to do so, though, in the presence of a very beautiful girl. His gaze constantly strayed from Peter, settling on the taller of the girls before he remembered his manners. "You're just not… what I expected, is all."

Edmund was no idiot. Nor was he blind. "Neither are you," he stated sceptically, taking a few steps forward to place himself at least partially between Susan and the prince. Because that was precisely what they needed on top of a brewing war and the internal power-struggle between Caspian and Peter that was bound to arise. A romance between their sister and the man wanting to take their throne. With their help. There was no time for love. Or lingering. "Pleasant as this is, we really shouldn't be standing around out in the open."

"We're covered by the forest," Caspian assured him. "The Telmarine soldiers fear it."

"You are only safe as long as you stay on your guard," the Pevensies deadpanned in unison. "Never underestimate your enemy, no matter how weak or stupid they may seem." They had all lost count of how many times Adeline had reiterated those same words whenever they failed to be vigilant.

Blinking at them all, Caspian could do nothing but nod slowly. "We have shelter," he promised. "We were just returning from gathering weapons and armour."

Lucy eyed the many swords the Narnians carried critically. "Gathering or plundering," she asked drily. "Those are not Narnian blades." The prince had the good grace to look a little scolded. She did not approve of war in general, but even in wars, Lucy refused to condone theft. Especially since it caused more conflict and might end up in unnecessary bloodshed.

"We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege."

Peter turned around, confused for a fraction of a second before he looked down. A mouse bowed deeply to him, causing him to smile. Narnian mice were something special. Brave little things. It seemed this one was no different.

"Our hearts and swords are at your service."

Leaning closer to Susan, Lucy could not take her eyes off the mouse. "Oh my gosh, he is so cute."

"Who said that!"

She blushed furiously. "Sorry, it's just… we were told that Narnian mice were courageous and loyal," she managed, trying to save face with him. "They failed to inform us that you were… handsome, as well."

It was Reepicheep's turn to get flustered. Never before had he received such praise. From a queen, no less. Clearly, the Kings and Queens of Old were far more educated than those blasted Telmarines. They were so unoriginal, acting all surprised every time they came to see that it was a mouse who held their lives in its hands. "With deepest respects, Your Majesty, I expected it to have been said in shallow admiration," he replied, bowing again, "I was not aware that you had been informed of the bravery of my people."

Sick and tired of the small talk, Edmund cleared his throat. "So, this shelter you speak of…"

"Of course," Caspian replied. "We must travel east, about half a day's march."

And so they did. Peter and Caspian took up the lead, with Glenstorm and Edmund right behind them. The younger king found the centaur to be excellent company, befit his dour mood. There was no conversation, allowing him to silently grieve his fallen friends even as his siblings made new ones. Then something the badger said caught his attention. Cloaked stranger… reeks of magic. "Who is the badger speaking about?"

Only a swish of his tail showed that Glenstorm was surprised by the question. "A stranger found our troops when we gathered for the first time," he replied. "They can see into our very souls, yet we have not yet caught sight of their face." He had wondered who they were. Centaurs looked to the sky for prophecies and signs of fortune, so he and his sons had known to expect a powerful ally. But there were few left in Narnia who could call themselves powerful. Until the appearance of the kings and queens. "Sickly pallor, voice like nails scraping on ice," he murmured. "Many believe they are dying."

"Some say they're already dead," Trufflehunter interjected. "But they don't smell dead, just… there's magic surrounding them."

But Edmund was not listening any longer.