EDMUND LANDS on my back as gracefully as one can manage while falling from the top of a tower, but it still hurts like hell. The additional weight strains my already sore wings and burning muscles and I quickly turn around in search of somewhere safe to land before I drop out of the sky.

The sounds of battle from Miraz's castle are slowly fading into the night, the Narnian army retreating to safety across the bridge and gathering at the town border. There. I extend my wings as far as I can manage, intending to glide and let what little wind there is carry us through the air.

"Arryn, you're bleeding," Edmund says, his voice frantic. "A lot."

Honestly, I'm not surprised. "Yeah," I reply breathlessly. "I thought so."

"What happened?"

I pump my wings, fighting to keep us aloft against the pull of gravity. What did happen? "I...I dunno...Peter –"

"Peter did this!?"

"Ed." I inhale a shaky breath, trying to keep my eyes open and look past the blistering fire engulfing my shoulder. "Shut up," I mutter. "Just...let me land."

I think he says something else but blood loss and the sudden lack of adrenaline is making everything foggy and uncertain and I'm so focused on reaching the army on solid ground that I don't notice much else.

Glenstorm sees us approaching and must notice my flagging energy because he ushers everyone back, clearing a large space for me to land. Or crash, I realize, my limbs too exhausted and agonized to do anything more than collapse beneath me and send us tumbling across the cobblestone ground. One wing twists beneath me, pulling the shoulder that must be injured and bleeding because the sudden pain sends flames tearing through my body and makes me freeze on the spot. I worry I might have crushed Edmund in my sprawled landing but I can distantly hear his voice and see his silhouette in my blurred vision, so he must be alright.

I blink furiously, trying to see clearly through the haze. The voices and sounds around me are all muddled into one, irritating noise. I try to get my paws beneath me and stand up. I need to get up.

Wincing through the pain, I manage to right myself and my vision clears so I can see Edmund Pevensie and his panicking brown eyes. His lips are moving and he's saying something.

I blink hard and focus my ears on him. "...to me, stay...eyes open..." His face is pale and his breathing is nearly as fast as mine. I try to ask him if he's okay but nothing in my body is functioning properly at the moment, least of all my ability to speak.

I shake my head sharply as if it might clear the sudden ringing and rid the weight from my eyelids.

"...No, look...stay awake...Pete!"

Peter.

The clopping of hooves registers in my mind as a surge of adrenaline shoots through my system at his name. Peter.

With my senses returning, I can see the High King cantering on a horse across the bridge to join the Narnian army. Rage fills me and I take a step toward him. "You!" Heat rushes through my veins and everything starts swimming again. "You could have stopped it!" I growl, feeling the world starting to fall from under me. My legs buckle under my own body weight, scraping across the stone.

Peter is nearly as pale as Edmund.

"...too much blood!"

The adrenaline is disappearing again and all there is is pain and exhaustion and noise. Dimly, I recognize Edmund's voice and cling to it like a lifeline, fighting to hear him through the deafening din of silence around me.

"...please..."

Please...what...? I focus on his eyes as they become clearer and brighter.

"...you...to change...too big..."

The realization hits me like a battering ram. By the mane...I'm so stupid.

I steel myself against another wave of pain, wondering if I'll be lucky enough to pass out before it hits. And if I'll be luckier still to wake up after.

Smaller, I think. Because that's all my brain can process. Smaller.

━━━༻❁༺━━━

The wind here is fresh and has a lightness to it, the sky a blue canvas suspended above the cliff on which the magnificent Cair Paravel stands. The blossoming trees of the orchard fill the air with the wonderful, sweet scent of flowers carried on the wind. The grass is soft underfoot and of a vivid, emerald green such as the leaves adorning the twisting of branches.

One of them appears to move — drifting between the trees and reaching amongst the blooming flowers abuzz with bees.

The girl in the orchard calls out to it. "I was told you can help me."

From within the grove, a tall figure of glowing, olive skin emerges. Green leaves sprout from atop her head like the draping branches of a willow; a gown of transparent green fabric shimmers and flows from her shoulders to pool at her bare feet. The dryad clasps her hands in front of her, her rich, brown eyes coming to rest on the newcomer. "And by whom, little one," she says with a voice like gentle wind, "was this claim spoken in such confidence by?"

"A man," is the girl's reply. "A hermit of Archenland's southern march, lady Pomona. Capable of gazing upon anyplace in the world by the surface of a magic pool."

Her hair of green, broad-shaped leaves whispers around her shoulders in a light breeze. "And why would this Hermit of Archenland send you on such a journey over mountains and rivers for my help?"

"The stars and the moon have come together in the sky to allow a brief glimpse of a moment that will come to pass. And from his pool, the hermit was able to see this: the same evil Narnia's Kings and Queens defeated by the side of the Great Lion Aslan will return and walk this land again."

Her soft, russet eyes flash with terror and shock, her tranquil stance seeming to grow strong and rooted to the earth like that of a tree.

The girl continues with her desperate explanation. "You are the greatest of the tree people, lady Pomona. As seen by the hermit, my hand — though unwilling — will spill Adam's blood. I seek your help in a magic that will bind my good sense to a will strong enough yet to oppose her cursed trance. This, by the hermit's confidence, was said."

The dryad Pomona ponders these foreboding words. "I know this spell you have travelled so far for," she states. "And I would help you, dear one, but whose will possesses the strength to contest such magic?"

"One who has once been tempted by the witch Jadis and met her power: the King of Narnia, Edmund the Just — son of Adam."

Her expression turns grave. Slowly and with graceful, powerful strides like those of a queen, the dryad draws nearer. "You understand," she begins in a warning tone, "such a spell will forevermore tie you to Narnia's great king, never to be removed nor broken by the forces of this world."

The determined girl standing before her nods. "I will do what is required of me. If my hand is to give rise to a terrible evil, it is with that hand I intend to defeat it. Should you know of another, better way, please...tell me."

Her pretty, cocoa eyes turn sad and before anything else can be said, her face begins to blur. All at once, the girl, the dryad, the orchard in which they stand, and the distant structure of Cair Paravel fall out of focus. For a moment, as if flicking through the pages of a book, a series of brief flashes appear: a silver dagger edged with blood; two interlocked hands; a broken teacup. Then the whole world and its noises and sensations fade into darkness; a warm, invisible sun washing over everything.

And a new breeze arises, drifting across my skin in cool drafts that lift from my mind any recollection of the strange dream. A heartbeat drums methodically in my ear and the blanket enveloping me is velvety and soft. I don't particularly want to open my eyes and wake up, but the sun shining on me is terribly bright and if I'm not mistaken there is a blond-haired King in need of murdering.

I crack my eyes open, squinting as they adjust to the light. My heart stops when I realize Edmund's face is a mere few inches away from mine, his arms looped under my knees and around my shoulders, holding me securely to his chest. Shocked and terribly confused, I stare up into his beautiful brown irises, my pulse quickening and my stomach doing a nervous little flip when that roguish smirk appears on his face.

"Look who needed carrying after all," he teases in a low voice.

I grin and don't wait a moment longer before throwing my arms around his neck. Laughing, Edmund releases me so I'm standing on my own two feet and he can hug me back properly, arms encircling my waist and pulling me to him. I sink into the dark-haired king, finding myself unable to bear any distance between us. And if it's possible, Edmund tightens his arms and fiercely brings me closer.

Listening to his heart beating faster in my ear, it dawns on me just how terrified he'd been — for me. The valiant, Just King of Narnia fearful for me. My heart feels like it might explode from my chest, too many words and thoughts burning to be let out.

Another time, I promise myself. Priorities. We're still fighting a war.

I revel in his embrace a moment longer before drawing back just enough to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Caught off guard, the king completely freezes on the spot. His stunned expression is priceless and I wish we had more than just a moment to ourselves, but gathered behind him stands a large group of Narnians: the war party — or rather, what's left of it after the unsuccessful raid. Though, at first, I don't trust my own eyes when I see Professor Cornelius standing in front of Glenstorm, Suncloud and Rainstone. But then the short, bearded old man smiles broadly and walks toward me and I rush past a still dumbfounded Edmund.

"My dear!" Cornelius exclaims merrily. He holds out his cloak of blue velvet, reminding me that I'm a human and wearing only Edmund's shirt.

Again!?

Quickly, he drapes it around my shoulders with a hearty chuckle. "I see not much has changed," he says.

I laugh and hug him, as well. "Thank you. Have you seen Caspian? Is he alright?"

"Yes. Troubled, but unharmed."

I pull away from him with a questioning frown.

Cornelius sighs, looking quite troubled himself. "War is not an easy lesson to learn," he explains. "You should talk to him; but find proper dress, first."

"I will." Clutching the cloak tightly around me, I turn back around to face Aslan's How. A small crowd of Narnians who'd stayed to protect it are congregated around the entrance. While Peter and Caspian are nowhere in sight, Lucy is present and situated beside Susan with her healing cordial at her side. She smiles broadly at me, and I return the gesture in a silent, grateful thank you.

I follow the two of them and Edmund, who's now gotten a hold of himself, into the How. Then I realize I still don't know what went wrong with the raid earlier in the night.

"What happened?" I ask, catching up to the three of them.

Susan sighs irritably and glances over her shoulder as we enter the central chamber. "Yours and Caspian's professor wasn't in his study when we got there so he went off to find him. And when Peter and I got to Miraz's room, Caspian was already there in the middle of a standoff. Somehow, Miraz slipped us and set off the alarm. We tried telling Peter to call off the attack, but he wouldn't. So now they're acting like angry children and blaming the other for what happened."

We follow her across the hot, stuffy room filled with Narnians busy at forges as she continues her explanation.

"You had this horrible gash on one shoulder that was made worse from all your flying and shifting. Peter said he tried to help and get you to leave the fight sooner, but apparently you were set on getting stabbed, first."

Edmund chuckles from behind me, the sound bouncing off the stone walls of the staircase. "Sounds about right."

I roll my eyes at the comment and listen to Susan's conclusion.

"...And after you passed out from turning back, Ed gave you his shirt again and all we could do was stop the bleeding until we made it back for Lucy to heal you. The boys took turns carrying you."

I grimace at the revelation. "I tried my best to go for small, but coming off an adrenaline high and trying to focus through the blood loss and the pain...I wasn't functioning properly."

"Yes, I remember," Edmund mutters, making me wonder if I said anything absurd that I can't remember.

"Peter feels terrible about what happened, Arryn," Susan adds from in front of me. "And not just with being unable to protect you, but the whole thing." At the top of the staircase, she turns around to look at me. "I know you're upset with how he handled it," she says quietly. "Believe me, we all are. But he's starting to realize his mistake, so...please don't let all your anger out on him."

Lucy, who's stopped as well and stands behind Susan, watches me carefully and with a hopeful, sad expression that mirrors her sister's. Were it anyone else asking me to essentially forgive Peter Pevensie, I may very well have told them no. But these two, extraordinary girls with such pure hearts who've quickly become my friends manage to be the exception.

I nod, my lips pressed into a tight smile. "Okay."

Susan returns the smile gratefully while Lucy's face lights up. "Thank you, Arryn,"

▬▬ι══════༻❁༺══════ι▬▬

author's note

arryn didn't end up murdering peter lol well done, susan. crisis averted. but, in sabotaging the crossbows and thus securing the army a little more time to escape, she did manage to indirectly save rainstone along with a bunch of other narnians.

man, that dream sequence was killer. it took me so long and i tried so many different variations until it turned out half decent. so yes, the man in the last dream is the hermit of the southern march, who's seen in the horse and his boy. and yes, my attempts at 'old-ish english' borders on atrocious, i'm working on it lmao hopefully it wasn't too confusing and the connections are starting to show!

ugh that little moment between edmund & ryn is so cute i love it so much. and his reference to when they first met and he asked if she wanted him to carry her !? my favourite line.

but uh, just in case anyone out here is thinking 'wow arryn ONLY got stabbed and acted like she was dying?' please reconsider that thought lol. getting stabbed is painful enough without shifting and immediately after using that limb and those muscles. and on top of that, carrying another (larger) person while suffering from blood loss? yeah. arryn is a beast lol. don't forget it.

alrighty! the fact for this chapter is pretty short & sweet and y'all probably already know it! but just in case you don't, here it is: reepicheep and his mice are deceptively large and stand at 22 inches! 22! i literally feel like i'm making this up but that's what andrew adamson said in the movie commentary. idk if that inludes the tails, but 22 freaking inches. idc how cute it is, i'd damn near have a heart attack if i saw a mouse that big lmao

hope you guys liked the chapter!