"I THINK I liked the green one better," Susan muses, tilting her head as she takes in my current dress.

Lucy nods her agreement, searching for a word to describe it. "It's too..."

"Overdone?" I offer, referring to the ornate, golden embroidery and puffed sleeves.

"Definitely."

Susan laughs. "I do like the silhouette, though."

I look at myself in the mirror and decide she's right. The shape is quite flattering.

"I think I need something lighter," Lucy says, her shoulders slouched from the weight of her own dress. I stifle my laugh at the sight of the young queen's hunched figure.

Susan does a quick twirl, her eyes shining as she watches her skirt billow outward. "I quite like this one, actually."

Lucy nods her head vigorously. "I do, too."

"It's beautiful," I agree. The overskirt is of a deep red with a square neckline and mustard-yellow ribbed bell sleeves. Along the bodice, shoulders, and elbows, the material is slashed and allows the white underskirt to puff outward. The queen's rich brown hair pairs marvellously with the two colours.

One of the seamstresses, Henle, appears with another gown for me in her arms. "Would you like to try the next one, milady?"

"Yes, thank you." Leaving Susan and Lucy to ponder their own dresses, I follow her behind my dressing screen.

I've lost track of how many times I told her I'm not a noblewoman and don't need to be addressed as such. I'm assuming the fact that I'm with the Old Queens has lead her and the other seamstresses to believe I deserve the same treatment and respect. Whatever the case, Henle refuses to budge and I've decided to no longer nag her about it.

"I think you're going to like this one, milady." Henle helps me slip the skirt over my head, the high-quality fabrics and materials far less forgiving than what I'm used to. I'm definitely hesitant seeing the golden colour of the skirt, but at this point, I have neither a dress for Caspian's coronation or Aslan's ceremony the following day so I have to try everything the seamstresses brought in hopes of finding something.

"There we are..." Henle muses, adjusting the ruched, ivory silk wrapped across my chest. "Oh, it already looks lovely, milady," she gushes, beginning to tighten the gown's lacing.

There's a loud knock on the door of Susan's quarters, which is odd considering the guards outside know the three of us are in the middle of a dress fitting.

I can hear the girls murmuring their own confusion before Susan shouts, "Come in!" and the doors swing open.

"Ed?"

The king in question sighs, sounding exhausted. "I need your help."

The door closes with a low thud and Henle finishes lacing up my dress. "All set, milady."

"Thank you, Henle." I gather up the long skirt so I won't trip and step out from behind the dressing screen.

Edmund Pevensie is indeed standing before his sisters when he should be having his own coronation outfit measured and tailored. And when he sees me appear to rejoin the girls, his eyes light up with pure rapture.

Lucy and Susan follow their brother's gaze, the former gasping in delight when she sees me.

"Oh Arryn, I love it!" She exclaims. "You look beautiful!"

Grinning, I steal a quick glance in the mirror before I stop beside her, pulling the younger girl into a side hug. "Thank you." Then I look at Edmund, who has this incredibly dumb smile on his face that reminds me of Caspian.

Susan raises a dark eyebrow at him. "Ed?" She prompts. "What did you need help with?"

"This." The boy spreads his arms out and only now do I notice what he's wearing: a jerkin of burnt orange with white panels stretching down from his shoulders and decorated with careful embroidery. The collar is stiff and turned upward and he wears a tan shirt with fitted sleeves underneath it, and a leather belt around his waist.

"What about it?" Susan questions, though I can imagine she's having the same thoughts as me. Did he really just walk around the palace looking like that?

Edmund sighs, letting his arms fall back to his sides and looking defeated. "I look like a prat, don't I?"

Lucy giggles into her hand.

"Peter says I look fine, but he's Peter, and the tailors are too nice to say anything bad, so I need help."

Susan crosses her arms, lips pursed as she critiques his appearance again. "Honestly?"

"Please."

"You look ridiculous."

Edmund presses his lips together as if he expected such a response. "I hate him," he mutters definitively, likely referring to his brother.

I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing out loud, but Lucy doesn't bother.

"I almost forgot how much you hated fittings," she says.

"I didn't."

I smile, tilting my head at the tired boy. "It's just...not your colour."

"Not at all," Susan agrees.

He runs a hand through his dark hair. "What is?"

"Honestly, Ed," she chides. "You survived fifteen years of fittings before this and you still don't have any idea how to dress?"

In a desperate bid for help, the king shoots me a silent plea.

I grin and decide to throw him a boon. "Blue."

"That's Peter's colour," Lucy sighs.

"What?" I sputter, looking between the siblings expecting it to be a joke. But they look serious. "How can he claim a colour?"

"Well he's never said it," Lucy continues. "But he always wears blue."

"And apparently," Edmund fixes his elder sister with a pointed look, "we all have to wear different colors at events."

"We'd look like idiots going around matching with each other all the time," she points out.

"We matched pretty well at our own coronation."

"Oh, give it up," Susan mutters. "You look like a palace jester, now will you let us get back to our own fitting?"

Lucy and I can barely contain our laughter and I even catch a few seamstresses trying to hide their smiles.

Edmund glances between the two of us with a crooked grin. "Can't I stay?" He asks innocently.

The gentle queen rolls her eyes. "No," she tells him firmly. "You're already keeping the tailors waiting and they can't be here all day."

"Alright. But what colours...?"

"Green," she says, ushering him toward the door. "Brown, anything dark, really. Does that help?"

He nods and looks over his shoulder to meet my eyes one last time, sending me one of those beautiful smiles that lights my heart on fire. His dark eyes seem to say I'll find you later, and the flash of hesitancy and longing that cascades down the link only affirms it.

Lucy gasps and looks up at me with curious blue eyes, having obviously caught the little gesture. "What was that?" She demands in a hushed tone.

I brush it off as best I can. "Just a smile."

"Oh really?" She drawls, clearly not believing me.

Susan closes the door behind Edmund and returns to us with a wicked grin in my direction.

Aslan help me. He couldn't have been a little more discreet about it?

But Lucy's seamstress appears with a red dress in her grasp before the girl can launch any more questions at me. "Would you like to try another one, your highness?"

"Oh, yes please." Lucy gathers her skirt up and follows Brensia behind her dressing screen. Susan drifts toward one of the mirrors and I follow suit, finally taking a moment to see what the dress I'm wearing looks like.

The skirt is a lustrous gold color with a fitted bodice, around which a white belt is loosely wrapped, crossing once just under my chest and again at my lower back before tieing in the front and letting the tail ends trail to the ground. The white silk draped across my chest creates an off-shoulder neckline that covers my shoulders, while the rest of the sleeve down to my wrists is fitted and of the same, golden material as the skirt with white laces wrapped around my upper arms.

I'm surprised to find my red hair doesn't cause any harsh contrast with this particular shade of gold, although the design of it feels a little too formal.

After a moment of deliberation, Susan asks one of the seamstresses to pin her dress for hemming.

"What are you going to wear it for?" I ask, watching as Tumalissia places a stool on the ground for the queen to stand on while she works.

"The coronation, I think. What about you? Are you going to get that one?"

I frown and look in the mirror again. I do really like this dress. "You don't think it's too formal?" I ask.

"I think it looks lovely. There isn't exactly a dress code, so all that matters is that you like it." She smiles and adds teasingly, "I know Edmund does."

Despite my best efforts, I feel my cheeks flood with heat. This only encourages her.

"I saw that look he gave you."

"I know," I whisper.

"Have you two talked about it?"

"Not really," I admit, twisting my fingers together mindlessly. "Haven't really had the time."

Susan chuckles. "I suppose that's fair. How are you doing, otherwise?"

I turn my gaze to the stone floor, trying not to think too much about it. When I do, I feel like my head might fly off it's spinning so fast. I still don't know a thing about who I really am and I don't know how to go about searching for answers, or whether I even want to find them. And every time I close my eyes or hear shouting or the clashing of metal, it all comes back to me; watching my friends die, falling under the control of the White Witch, navigating the carnage of it all afterward. The trauma is something I know I can't escape. The wounds may heal but scars will remain.

I blink hard, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I don't know."

When I look up at her, Susan is smiling weakly, offering to me what strength she can manage. "You have us, you know. If you need anything."

"I know. Thank you."

The brunette nods just as Lucy emerges from the dressing screen, skipping toward us in a fiery red dress.

She slides to a stop in front of the closest mirror and bursts into a fit of giggles at her appearance. "I look like a traffic cone!"

Susan laughs along with her sister, leaving myself and the seamstresses to wonder what in the world a traffic cone is.

━━━༻❁༺━━━

Having just under two hours before my guard shift at the prison camp, I decide to seek out Edmund, who I haven't seen since early this morning. It feels strange to be without him after spending so much time together the last few days. Especially when he's the only person who understands how I feel after yesterday's hellish events.

And maybe — just maybe — I want to talk to him about that damned kiss that's been endlessly replaying in my head, driving me absolutely crazy. Maybe.

I pass by Cornelius's study on the way to his quarters and quickly step inside to check on the professor. He's been so busy helping Caspian adjust to the role of king I'm relieved to find him sitting amongst his books and parchment, allowing himself a break from the exhausting palace life.

He looks up when I enter, saving me from saying anything to announce myself.

The corners of his eyes crinkle, a broad smile spreading across his face. "Hello, my dear." He puts his pen down as I approach his desk, taking in the stacked books and organized parchment scribbled with notes.

"Are you still documenting everything?"

He nods, removing the spectacles from his nose to place them next to his pen. "There is much to be written of this occasion. History is being made, my dear. I must ensure it's remembered properly."

I chew on the inside of my lip, my thumb unconsciously rubbing circles across the pommel of my sword.

"You're here to ask of the truth, then."

I look up to meet his blue eyes, not expecting him to say such a thing. Admittedly, I've considered asking about my parents again but I didn't think he was willing to give an answer just yet.

"Only if you're willing to tell it," is my response.

The professor gestures solemnly to a chair and I sit, my heart beating nervously in my chest.

"I knew your parents when I was still quite young," he begins, threading his fingers together and resting them on his stomach. "They were immeasurably kind to me, and their names were Dorren and Nenat."

I have to choke back my tears hearing their names for the first time — the names of my parents. Dorren and Nenat.

"I didn't know what they were, then. And I don't know if those are their real names or ones they adopted in hiding. But that's how I knew them. It was during my quest for Queen Susan's Horn that I came across their home. When they saw this tired, grimy little man come down from the mountains, they offered me a warm meal and a bed. I'd been walking for days by then, and I couldn't refuse an offer from such kind people, so I stayed for a few days. And I resumed my quest and I didn't see them again. Not until they brought me you."

He holds his hands before him, as if imagining something that was once in his grasp. "You were so small, then." Smiling sadly, he meets my gaze with tears in his eyes. "Ten years, I didn't see your parents, and they show up in the village one day with this little girl." He shakes his head fondly. "You had hair the color of fire and so much adventure in your eyes. You were five, but as a human child, hardly more than two years."

From his strained voice, I know it hurts to remember them and the little girl they left in his care so long ago. To tell me now, the truth he's kept for so long. But he keeps going because I asked him to — his daughter.

"They explained to me they were chimæras and they had no choice but to leave; travel as far away from Narnia as they could."

"Why?"

Cornelius leans forward and points to my left hand. "Your birthmark."

I look down at it, turning my hand over to stare at the white lines at the base of my thumb.

"That mark," he explains. "Was a warning to them. The chimæras were taught to watch their children for it, and when it appeared, to run as far as they could."

I feel like the roof is crashing down on top of me. "I'm the reason?" I breathe. "They left because of me?"

Cornelius envelops my hand in his, trying to lend me comfort. "It was not your fault, my dear. Your parents wanted to stay with you, but the danger was too great."

"Danger?" I repeat, my chest growing heavy. "Why? What does it mean?"

He shakes his head, the lines of his face spelling sorrow and regret. "I don't know, my dear. They asked me to watch over you as they would, to guide you and teach you the ways of Old Narnia. They asked that I wouldn't tell you any of this until the time was right."

My hand and the cursed mark on it burns. "Why? Why would they say that? Where did they go?"

The professor sighs and glances out his window. "Where they all went," he murmurs. "Across the sea."

▬▬ι══════༻❁༺══════ι▬▬

author's note

oof what a beast of a chapter

are y'all shooketh or what?! did anyone guess that? or something close? i'm so excited to be releasing this chapter and revealing some juicy stuff for you guys lmao and it only gets better from here! there's so much more to learn about the chimæras! just wait until arryn talks to aslan ahhh

feel free to comment your theories about arryn/edmund/their connection! I'd love to hear what you've come up with! there are a bunch of hints thrown around in the story and I'm curious to see if anyone's pieced it together yet

the first half of this chapter is one my favorite scenes ever, i've been looking forward to writing it for so long. the loving sibling energy i get from it is immaculate lmfao

and i intended to have another scene at the end with some cute edryn fluff but i ran out of time and the chapter would have been way too long so unfortunately it has to wait until the next update my apologies

also, there are 5 new scenes in the bloopers bonus chapter! you can find them by looking for the NEW tag after each page break. i also had to move the chapter down in the chapter order so it wouldn't give any spoilers for new readers

i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!