"PLEASE," SHE begs, her voice turning hoarse with desperation. "You have to help me."

The light of the full moon reflects brilliantly in his eyes, turning them bright and sharp so they themselves look like two silver stars plucked from the sky. Were he not so gentle in appearance and with a voice like quiet, autumn wind, he would quite easily strike terror in the heart of any who look upon him. So when he meets her frantic gaze, she inhales a sharp, nervous gasp that, for the briefest of moments, fills her with terrible dread.

"Daughter," he says. "The magic you seek for such a task — if it not mean your end — may only be found in the curse-layer herself; she who fell beneath The Great Lion's mane."

She shakes her head furiously. "No spells come of a dead witch but those already cast. There must be a way, father. Tell me there is a way."

He leans on his staff, a frown deepening the lines of his face. His voice, ever soft as the dewy grass, dampens her fear. "There is no power in Archenland nor the lands surrounding capable of defeating such magic but for The Lion himself," he says smoothly. "However, I have realized there is one who has resisted such temptation. And, as I have come to realize as well, you see, if he were at one end of a similar string, may serve as a point to which your senses remain anchored."

The old man beckons her forward, to the pool of placid water at his feet. It's clear and calm and near level with the lawn of luscious green in which it rests, reflecting the patterns of the night sky like a mirror inlaid within the earth. She approaches him and the curious pool, peering over it to see herself in its stillness, the stars and the moon spread out behind her and her knotted red hair and her dusting of freckles and her eyes of umber and sage and the ripples–

A hand falls on my shoulder and my heart lurches, whirling around and wrenching my eyes open with a gasp.

Edmund stares back at me with a confused expression on his face. "Are you alright?"

Behind him, the stone walls of Aslan's How are cast with shadows from the flickering torches resting in their brackets. Banging metal and hooves and voices echo distantly through the tunnels. The air — thick and hot and tinged with smoke — fills my nose and my lungs and calms my racing pulse.

It was just a dream, I remind myself. A really, really weird dream...right?

"Ryn?"

I blink, refocusing on his dark eyes and the concern shining in them. "I'm fine."

He frowns, believing my words about as much as I do, but decides for the moment not to push for any sort of elaboration. Instead, he straightens and offers me a hand, pulling me to my feet. "Peter and Caspian are calling the meeting."

I nod, reaching for my sword belt to buckle it on. "Hopefully this one goes a little smoother."

"Yeah," he chuckles. "No kidding."

After yesterday's council, everyone was quite on edge — including me. Caspian actually dodged my attempt to talk to him by hurrying out of the chamber ahead of the rest of the Narnians, leaving me to wait with Edmund and Lucy while everyone else filed out. News of the upcoming raid spread like wildfire and preparations began. With what was discussed earlier, I was much too troubled and restless to sleep, so I took a watch shift out on the wall. It was terribly boring, and by the time someone came to relieve me, I was tired enough to curl up and fall asleep in one of the upper chambers. The unsettling dream is likely a manifestation of all my anxiety surrounding the imminent war and exhaustion from days of travel. The details and such are already slipping my mind, leaving only the strange memory of my own, fearful reflection and the stars that seemed to weep tears of silver across the sky.

I run my fingers through my hair: unkempt and tangled from sleep. Edmund's eyes widen in surprise when the long, red locks disappear and regrow in the span of a few seconds. I arch an eyebrow at his questioning look. "We're in a hurry, aren't we?"

The king rolls his eyes at me. "Hardly. We have all day to plan everything out," he says, heading toward the room's exit.

I fall into step next to him, my shoulder brushing his arm. "We're going to need it," I mutter. "If we're going to risk a raid, it better win us this war."

Edmund glances at me before allowing me ahead of him to descend the narrow staircase to the main chamber. "Is Caspian mad you didn't side with him?"

The reminder makes my heart fall a little. I sigh, trying not to dwell too much on it. "He's disappointed, yes. But he knows why I didn't and he'll accept it...do Susan and Lucy hate me for it?"

I dread his answer but when I look over my shoulder at him, Edmund is staring at me with a look of utter disbelief. "You're joking." He laughs. "Lucy could never hate you. I mean, they're not very happy with the plan but believe me, they won't hate you for having a different opinion."

Relief washes over me and I feel my shoulders relax, if only a little.

We reach the main chamber and continue straight down the tunnel directly opposite the one we exit, right behind a minotaur and a dwarf: Asterius and Trumpkin. The latter turns around when he hears us, offering me and Edmund a perfunctory nod we both return.

"Your brother in a better mood today?" The red dwarf asks.

"Last I saw him," Ed replies stiffly. His irritation is well contained, but I can still read it. Trumpkin, either not realizing his words were unreasonably disrespectful or not quite caring, grunts and resumes walking in silence with his companion.

Even though I consider myself friends with the Pevensies, I've done well to make sure I check myself before speaking, particularly with Peter's foul attitude lately. All the Narnians have been doing so. Even though we're all thinking the same thing, speaking ill of the High King is not to be taken lightly; especially in the presence of his siblings. Trumpkin, apparently, does not seem to recognize this.

We enter the Stone Table chamber soon enough, finding everyone already there. Compared to the previous night's meeting, this one is significantly smaller, as we'll be dealing with strategy and details specific to the raid itself. Glenstorm, of course, is present along with Reepicheep and Thrisnon. The gryphon rests in the same spot as last night while Reepicheep and his second in command, Peepiceek, are perched on the corner of the Stone Table beside Caspian, who has sheets of blank paper spread before him. Glenstorm stands regally on the prince's other side, arms crossed and with a serious expression on his long face. Lucy and Susan sit together on one of the worn, stone steps at the base of a column, Peter situated next to them wearing a leather jerkin and looking more kingly than I've ever seen him.

Everyone looks up when we enter behind Trumpkin and Asterius, who claim two open spots around the Stone Table. I exchange respectful nods with each of the present Narnians and the High King before sitting down next to Edmund in the same spot as our last meeting. Caspian meets my hopeful gaze from across the Table, his dark eyes resolute and his expression stoic.

I'm sorry, I try to convey through my eyes. Please understand.

The ghost of a smile flickers across his lips and though it's barely there, he nods his head the tiniest bit and turns to Peter to begin the discussion. The High King steps forward.

"Right," he says, looking at the gathered council. "Our first order of business is to figure out how we're going to get our men inside Miraz's castle. And," he gestures to me, "as you said last night, there's only one way in."

I don't expect to be the center of attention so soon, but I take a deep breath and get over it. "On foot, yes. The outer village will have a few guards on duty; they'll be easy to take care of and shouldn't be a problem. The bridge to the citadel has an outer gate, but a good ram will take it down." I glance at Asterius pointedly and he grunts in response. "Past that, two guards are always stationed at the drawbridge, which has to be lowered from the gatehouse. Last is the inner gate; it has a solid iron portcullis that can only be raised by the windlass on the interior side. Opening that without being seen won't be easy."

"Yes," Caspian agrees, glancing between me and Peter. "There are guards patrolling the walls and posted on every tower. And the curtain wall surrounding the interior courtyard is lined with battlements for archers."

Peter nods wordlessly, deep in thought as the gears in his head work overtime to process all this information. "We'll need to send in a group to lower the bridge and raise the gate."

Thrisnon raises his head from atop his perch. "My brothers and I may be of assistance there, your highness," he offers.

"And my mice can sneak in and take the gatehouse," Reepicheep adds fiercely. Beside him, Peepiceek nods his agreement.

"Miraz's castle is huge," Trumpkin points out. "If we're going to plan out every detail, we need a map."

Everyone's eyes fall on me. Oh.

"Could you make one?" Peter asks.

Before I can inquire about it, Caspian answers my question. "I brought parchment." He gestures to the paper laid out in front of him on the Stone Table's broken surface, shooting me a little lopsided smile. "I would have done it myself, but my hand is terrible."

"Well, I'm no artist," I admit, standing from my seat next to Edmund. "But I do know the entire castle. Where do you want me to start?"

━━━༻❁༺━━━

"Hey."

At the sound of his voice, I turn away from the view of the grassy plains and the woods. Caspian is walking across the war room toward me, his leather Telmarine armour on and his sword at his hip.

I try to smile. "Hey."

"Are you ready?" He asks.

I nod, stepping back inside the walls of the How. "Don't need any armour."

His eyebrows furrow in confusion. "But you need a sword?"

My hand drifts to the weapon still strapped to my side: Edmund's sword. I try to fight the colour rising up my cheeks when I realize how reluctant I am to part with it, but it doesn't help at all when Caspian's confusion turns into a knowing smirk.

"I've gotten used to having it with me," I mutter, unbuckling the belt.

"I haven't had a chance to ask you about that, yet," he begins with a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Cas," I lean the sword up against a column, "do you really want to talk about Edmund when we're about to leave to attack the castle?"

The Telmarine scoffs. "You're trying to get out of this," he accuses. "I only want to hear what happened in the two days you were gone."

It was only two days? "...nothing happened," I argue. "We just talked." A lot.

Caspian waits for me to continue. He knows I'm keeping something. I purse my lips, feeling the heat dissipating from my face. I can tell him. I trust him.

"It's gonna sound ridiculous," I warn.

He raises an eyebrow. "Sef," he says, still clinging to his nickname for me. "Our old fairytales are real. The Old Kings and Queens returned to Narnia after thirteen hundred years through a magical horn. My own best friend is a shapeshifter. At this point, nothing surprises me."

Okay. I cross my arms with a sigh. "It...feels like there's some sort of magic."

Caspian looks confused again. "Do you mean...like a –"

"No." I cut him off before he can say it. "No. I-It's like he's familiar to me, somehow." I shake my head in frustration. "Look, I can barely make sense of it in my own head, I can't exactly explain it. But what's going on with you and Susan?"

He recoils in shock. "Queen Susan?"

"Yes," I laugh. Imbecile. "I see you staring at her all the time. Have you tried talking to her?"

Caspian shakes his head, his lips pressed together like he's nervous just at the mere thought.

"You should," I continue. "She's intimidating at first, but she's really nice." Hence her title: The Gentle Queen.

He nods. "I will."

But Caspian is a terrible liar. "No, you won't."

A rueful smile crosses his face. "She's a queen," he says, as if that's reason enough to do nothing about his little crush.

I stare at him. Is he serious? "You're a prince."

He waves me off and starts for the door. "We have a castle to raid, Sef."

I scrunch my face up in annoyance and search for something to throw at him. All that's within reach is Edmund's sword, though — which I'm not inclined to hurl at stupid boys — so I settle with chasing after him and punching his shoulder.

"Ow." He chuckles, rubbing the sore spot. I'm prepared to fend off a counterattack but instead of retaliating, he stops in the hallway outside the war room and nods to something down the hall: another room. "You should talk to him before we leave."

I follow his gaze to the open doorway a ways off. "About what?" I was not about to tell him about my supposed 'magical' connection, so what is he possibly referring to?

Caspian replies by pushing me forward and telling me to hurry before heading down the stairs to the central chamber. I glare after him for a moment, then return my gaze to the room Edmund is supposedly in, contemplating my options. I can't deny it. I do want to see him, even if to just pop inside to see if he's ready. Why am I so hesitant suddenly? I've never thought twice about anything regarding Ed. We're friends, for Aslan's sake. Friends who...flirt occasionally.

Silently, I curse Caspian for making me think so hard about something as simple as talking to him, which I have been doing perfectly fine on my own thus far, thank you very much.

Internalizing an aggravated sigh, I make my way towards the room, knocking on the doorframe before peering inside. Clad in her light armour, Susan is busy tying one of Edmund's vambraces while he stands patiently wearing a leather jerkin similar to his brother's. Though, hearing someone at the door his head turns and a beautiful smile alights on his face.

"Oh, hullo Ryn."

Susan lifts her head from her work, noticing me as well with a smile of her own. "Are we leaving, then?" She asks.

"Soon." I step inside. "I just came to see if you were ready."

"We're nearly there," she laughs, pulling the laces tight. Ed smiles awkwardly, waiting for his sister to conclude her fussing. I have to try my best not to laugh at his discomfiture. Susan finishes up soon enough and leaves to find Lucy before the party is set to leave.

Edmund reaches for his sword to buckle it on. "I can put on my own armour, you know," he states before I can tease him about it.

I watch the flustered king with a grin, wondering why he's so...embarassed suddenly.

He looks up with an inquisitive frown, tugging on his belt to tighten it. "You alright?"

Then I realize with a start that I haven't said anything. "Oh, I'm fine. A little nervous."

Ed smirks. "Did Caspian talk to you?" He asks, hooking his thumb toward the door. "Because Susan just talked to me."

"Yeah," I breathe. Knowing that he was borderline interrogated as well makes me feel so much more relaxed. "What's with that?"

He laughs. "I dunno, but it was weird."

"Yeah, you're telling me."

A horn interrupts us from outside the How, its sound signalling the war party to gather. In minutes, we'll be marching on Miraz's castle.

I meet Edmund's gaze with a grin, suddenly excited. "Ready to fly?"

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author's note

y'all i swear when i checked this story yesterday it said last updated six days ago. but it's been nine!? i– am i dumb? tf? i am so sorry lol i've been so determined to stick to an updating schedule of 4-7 days, even though it's been closer to 7 lately because i've been stuck on one part the last two weeks. i am going to get my shit together and get this story rolling again, i pinky promise

anyways, this stupid chapter took me so mf long to write and i don't even know how i feel about it tbh

and the first section of this chapter includes the terms "father" and "daughter" but the two characters in that scene are not related. that's just how they talk; it's 'old speech' lmao. i'm also not gonna reply to any comments on that section so i don't give anything away, but still feel free to comment your theories! i'd love to hear them!

now for a (kind of) fun fact! apparently skandar keynes is known for creating continuity errors and thus has a lot of his scenes cut. like when the pevensies see the stone table for the first time, each of them gets a nice, dramatic close up moving down the line from peter to edmund. and basically as soon as it reaches ed, it cuts lmao. this was because of the timing of him turning his head as it would have affected continuity had it been left as it was. another cut scene (which was not due to continuity) was his fighting sequence during the raid between him and a guard on the tower. it was a much longer fight but ended up being shortened, probably to keep the raid from dragging on too long. haha poor guy getting his scenes cut and hardly any dialogue.

hope you guys liked this chapter!