"HORN?"

The four of them stare at me and Trumpkin in blatant confusion.

"What horn?" The older girl asks.

"Well," I smile grimly, now realizing who she is. "Yours, your highness."

Shock blooms across her face. "Mine?"

I nod, feeling strange with the Kings and Queens of Old all staring at me. "It called you here. Narnia needs your help."

The eldest two exchange knowing looks. Then the light-haired man, High King Peter, looks at me again. "What's your name?"

"Arryn, your majesty." I curtsy, never having felt more self-conscious in my life with only an oversized, wet tunic to cover myself. "At your service."

He inclines his head to me, then turns his blue eyes to Edmund — King Edmund — who still stands next to me. "Ed, would you mind taking her to the Treasure Room for proper clothes?"

The King nods, beckoning for me to follow, but I hesitate for a moment; my gaze falls on the rescued dwarf, who's now on his feet in the sand.

"Trumpkin."

He looks at me in answer.

"If you would enlighten their majesties as to what's happened since their leave, I will do the same."

He nods gruffly, and with that, I continue after King Edmund, who's stopped further up the beach to retrieve his sword belt and buckle it on.

He looks up at me, eyes squinted against the bright day. "Ready?"

I nod, giddy with the prospect of venturing through the ruins of Cair Paravel. He must notice my excitement because an amused grin spreads across his face as he watches me.

I apologize hastily. "Forgive my eagerness, your majesty. I've never visited the ruins before."

The king chuckles. "Well, it's not nearly as grand as it used to be." He stops where the sand bar ends and waves to an overgrown path winding up through the rocky cliffside. "It's a bit of a walk," he admits. "I could carry you, if you'd like."

Carry me? I manage to stop myself from openly gawking at the Narnian king.

He grins, clearly seeing through me and recognizing my alarm as the result of his unexpected offer, and starts laughing when I have nothing to say. With his lips still twisted into an amused grin, he takes one step toward me, arms held out, eyebrow arched suggestively.

My words take a second to form properly. "Thank you," I reply. "But I will have to decline, your majesty. I'll be quite alright on my own, you see." As proof, I lift one foot so he can see the soft skin turn tough and calloused.

"Alright." His hands fall to his sides, a light smile still adorning his face. "The offer still stands."

I nod. "Noted."

King Edmund politely gestures for me to go on ahead of him, as the path doesn't look quite wide enough to fit both of us. I hesitate, knowing full well what sort of view the king will be subject to if I'm to walk ahead of him on the steep trail.

"Um." Lips pressed together, I hug the damp tunic tightly to my body and fix him with a really? look that hopefully gets my point across. It does.

"Oh." His teasing smile falls sheepish. "Right...Sorry." Hand resting on his sword hilt, the king leads the way up the path, glancing over his shoulder to ensure I'm still there — as if worried I might run off the first chance I get.

Soon enough, the narrow path opens up and the king slows his pace to walk beside me.

He looks at me with yet another dazzling smile. "Still don't want me to carry you?"

With a smirk, I raise an eyebrow. "I'll let you know, your highness."

He grins, a small laugh escaping him as he looks away — at the ground as we trek — as if in thought. "You're welcome to call me by my name, if you'd like," he says, looking up at me again. "Feels strange being addressed like that after we've been gone so long."

I laugh. "It feels strange calling someone my own age a king."

He seems shocked. "Your age?" He repeats. "How old are you?"

"Thirty-eight."

His mouth hangs open, eyes just about falling out of their sockets as he stares, causing me to laugh.

"You're thirty-eight years old?" He repeats in disbelief. "Do you," he gestures to me, struggling for the right words, "...make yourself look younger? Or something?"

I'm still laughing at his absolutely adorable state of confusion and eventually, he starts laughing as well. "What's so funny?" He asks.

I grin, finally settling down enough to explain. "How old are you, Edmund?"

He stares at me with incredible, bright eyes. "Not nearly as old as you," he chuckles teasingly.

I push him with my elbow. "How old?" I repeat.

"Sixteen."

"And how long do humans usually live?"

He shrugs, reaching forward to push a low-hanging tree branch out of our way. "About sixty-five years or so."

"We can live up to two-hundred years," I say. "Which means I've only lived about twenty percent of my life. I can alter my appearance but not my physical age, which means whatever form I choose to take, that twenty percent will be reflected. In my hawk form, I have the physical appearance of a three-year-old hawk. In my human form, I look sixteen. It's all relative."

Edmund sighs. "I didn't know there were any shapeshifters in Narnia," he admits.

"Chimæra," I correct, my voice soft. "And I'm the only one. My parents left before I was old enough to remember them." The truth escapes me before I realize what I'm doing. I spent years contemplating the idea before telling Caspian: someone I grew up with. And now, a boy I only just met, is doing to me things I never imagined. And a King of Narnia, no less.

Edmund sighs quietly, biting his lip. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I know what that's like. My dad's been gone three years, fighting in a war. Even before then, I hardly got to see him or my mum."

For a few heart-wrenching moments, only the sound of our feet moving through the grass is heard. I break it, because I can't stand listening to his pain.

"Is it strange," I begin, "that you seem more like a friend than the king I grew up reading stories about?"

Edmund releases a heavy, pent up breath and turns to me with a relieved grin. "I'm really glad you said that because I've been thinking the exact same thing. Except for the whole...reading stories about you part."

I smile, glancing down at my feet momentarily and wondering how someone I met less than an hour ago seems so...natural to be with. This boy who appears to have leapt right from the pages of the Old Tales is more real than anyone I've met.

"What sort of stories?" Edmund asks curiously.

"Oh, mostly good," I say reassuringly. "Except for one or two about the White Witch. I've read the Battle of Beruna about a thousand times thanks to Caspian."

At first, I don't notice his immediate shift to tense uneasiness. But then I blink and he has this mischievously curious expression on his face. For a moment, I wonder if I imagined his initial reaction.

"Caspian?" He repeats. "Who's that?"

"The reason you're here," I answer matter-of-factly, leaping up onto a boulder that projects over the edge of the cliffside path. "You'll meet him."

I turn away from the dazzling view of the eastern ocean to smile down at him. Edmund lifts an eyebrow at me and I jump down from the rocky ledge to continue our trek to the castle ruins. "There's a council at Dancing Lawn tonight," I explain. "I was sent to spread the word and meet him there, but..." I throw my hands up with a smile, gesturing to my being with him on our way to Cair Paravel's ruins, instead.

"It's alright if you have to leave," Edmund says. "We lived here for fifteen years, we can find our way around."

I bite my lip, trying to think of a gentle way to put it. "Well, yes, but...that was thirteen hundred years ago. This isn't exactly the same Narnia you remember."

Edmund nods solemnly in understanding. "I can't believe it's been that long," he says quietly. A pause. "...What happened?"

I take a deep breath, realizing this will be very hard for the King to hear. "Almost a thousand years after you disappeared, the Telmarines arrived. They conquered Narnia within a year; the Battle of Cair Paravel was the last." I let him take that in for a moment, watching his bright eyes cloud with sorrow and pain.

"It's said that the castle was bravely defended, but the battle was lost before it began. Before it fell, Queen Susan's horn was secured by the Narnians in case we should need to summon our kings and queens in the future. The Telmarines hunted us, and we were forced into hiding. They thought we were extinct, so they forgot about us. They burned our stories and legends and essentially erased us from history. To them, we're just fairytales."

Edmund sighs. He knows as well as I do how it feels to be treated like you don't exist. He meets my gaze and nods his head faintly, asking me to continue.

"Eighteen years ago, Caspian the Tenth was born as heir to the Telmarine throne. Lord Miraz murdered his father, the king, not long after. And now, just last night, Miraz's wife had a son."

"So now he has an heir," Edmund finishes.

"Exactly," I nod. "I heard the news and helped Caspian escape last night before Miraz could kill him. He had your sister's horn and was told to use it if he was in danger." I'm surprised that imbecile didn't break the damn thing on my head. "But he had no idea it had magic. We didn't even think it would work, but..."

Edmund smirks. "Here we are."

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author's note

the life expectancy in the UK back in the 40s is so different from today's numbers, like 65? that's even being a little generous. if anyone is confused about the chimæras' age translating between forms or anything else, don't be afraid to leave me a question and i'll answer it! i tried explaining as best i could, but i didn't want arryn busting out an exact science for edmund lmao i want to keep their interactions realistic and i don't know anyone who'd want to explain or hear a long ass explanation about how old someone is and why. so yeah, even though she's been alive for thirty-eight years, arryn doesn't have the "wisdom" of someone who's lived that long. chimæras' brains develop very slowly, so she's at the same maturity level as a sixteen-year-old human girl. physically and mentally she is slightly older than edmund.

anyways, i really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!