Disclaimer: Considering I spent three days avoiding writing the beginning of this because I had no idea how to get from the last chapter to the beginning of this one, and then a few more because I'm still not skilled at writing angst, I'm going to say it's not my story but rather a plot that holds me captive and engages in the practice of forced labor.

Beta'd by trustingHim17, who has been amazing about going through all the random stuff I wrote recently. Because that's what I do to procrastinate on this story.

OOOOO

The Four woke in the dim light of false dawn and folded their tapestries-blankets, putting them on the empty perches the Telar used as beds. With nothing to make for breakfast and a growing feeling of being imprisoned, they agreed without words to go outside, Peter closing the door behind them. He led the way to sit on the edge of the street, legs swinging, and together they watched the sky grow lighter and brighter as they waited for breakfast, or a ride, or both.

No one came. When the sun had fully risen, Susan got to her feet and looked at the others. "Lucy and I should leave now," she said quietly. "We don't know how much time we have."

"Where will you go?" Peter asked.

"Along the road, as far as we can, to see if it leads either down, or to a Telar willing to fly us." Peter got to his feet as well.

"Be wary of who you ask," he advised. He pulled Susan into a hug, then Lucy. "Take care of each other." Susan smiled back, trying to be brave—how she wished she had Lucy's courage!—and turned to Edmund.

"Take care," she said as she reached for him, holding him as long as he'd let her.

"I'll be all right, Su." He broke out of the hug, but hesitated. "Take care?" She nodded, and stepped back for Lucy. Edmund smiled down at her head.

"The blessings of the Lion on thee and thy quest," he said suddenly, squeezing Lucy one more time before letting her go. She looked up at him with a brave smile but blinking eyes.

"And may the Lion guard thee and bring you home," she responded fiercely. "The Telar won't ask Him for help but I will."

"We're all in His paws," Peter added, coming up and circling all three of them in one last hug. They stayed that way, the sun rising, the green trees, the air beneath them, each asking for a moment that this would not be the last time they were four. Each taking a moment to remember Aslan's name and the joy it brought. Then they straightened, crowns shining in the sun, and Susan took Lucy's hand, nodded once more to both their brothers, and began walking away.

The boys watched their sisters till they were out of sight.

"How early do you think the Telar will come?" Edmund asked, sitting down once more. Peter shrugged, staying standing. Edmund recognised the stance, the feet firm and body braced. "Peter, you can't fight them. It'd be you against an army."

"Aslan has won with less." Edmund sighed. "I have to try, Ed. That's one of the places where His Kings stand or fall. To do the right thing, at all times and in all places, is what being His King means."

"I'm aware," Edmund grumbled, agreeing with the concept but not its current implementation, and Peter glanced down and offered the shadow of a smile. "Oh, come off your high horse."

"I'm not the only one up on one. I remember Narnia's younger king fighting a witch both twice his size and much better with a sword." Edmund ducked his head. "I know you're aware of what it means to be a King. Just let me be a King too."

"That's more the role of a knight," Edmund argued back, just to be contrary. Peter didn't say anything. How disappointing. "You're not going to argue with me?"

"I don't feel like it."

No, Peter wouldn't. Edmund looked back out at the trees. He wouldn't feel like arguing with Peter, either, if it might be Peter's last day.

Actually, it might be Peter's last day. If Peter damaged enough Telar to anger them, especially Jumak's followers, they might forget their selective mercy. Edmund glanced over at his brother. He didn't have the knife anymore, neither of them did. After seeing Khonat in the kitchen, they'd both realised knives would do no good, however hard they thrust, and they would not have been comfortable to sleep with. Peter had nothing else to damage Telar with, which Edmund found ironically reassuring.

Edmund was distracting himself, and he knew it. Narnia tried to execute the remnants of the Witch's army as quickly as they could, and Edmund appreciated that mercy as never before. The longer the Telar waited to kill him, the better his chances, he knew, but so much of him just wanted them to hurry up.

"The waiting's the hardest," Peter commented, and Edmund looked up in surprise, finding Peter's eyes fixed on him. Peter sighed, sitting next to his brother. "My worst nights in Narnia were all the nights I had to wait, dreading the dawn. Waiting for the battle I would be fighting without Aslan, wondering if I'd ever be enough. Waiting brings up all the questions." He bumped Edmund with his shoulder. "Or waiting to see if the other Narnians were able to rescue you from the Witch," he added quietly. "Try not to think about it."

"Then give me something else to think about," Edmund shot back, grateful for the advice but irked that he couldn't follow it on his own.

Peter looked down the road. "What do you think the girls are up to?"

The girls walked down the length of the road which wound around six gigantic trees before ending abruptly at a seventh. Both Queens halted, Susan brushing her hair behind her shoulder.

"Do you suppose we should go the other way?" asked Lucy.

"It's the only thing we can do. I just wish it didn't take so much time—

"Wait, maybe it isn't." Lucy walked closer to the end of the road, peering between the boards. The rest of the road had them placed so closely together not even the sunlight from below came through, but the Telar gave up that artistry at the end of the road, and Lucy caught a glimpse of something lighter than bark. "Susan, look at this." Her older sister knelt beside her, and looked.

"It's supports for the road, nailed to the tree on one end, and angled to meet the road—"

"And look, they've got small boards nailed all around the support beams! Handholds, and we could step on them!" Lucy scrambled for the edge, eager for anything that took them lower. Susan grabbed at her a moment too late, not wanting her so close to the edge, but Lucy never noticed, too excited as she found boards running up the trunk to the road. She swung herself off a moment later, testing the nailed boards with both hands still clutching the street.

"Lucy!"

"It holds!" Lucy called back, too absorbed to hear the sharp tone. Susan's white face peered over a moment later. "I'm going down!" She climbed easily down and then under the street, fingers digging into crevices in the rough bark behind the thick wood squares. She only stopped when the nailed boards ran out. "Are you coming?" she called to her sister.

"Yes…," and Lucy frowned, because that tone wasn't at all happy, but she saw one of Susan's legs swing over the side and feel around for a board, albeit very, very slowly. Once Susan had her hands off the street, Lucy began looking about her.

The branches had all been cleared from the trunks above the road and directly around the supports, but underneath it, still far above the next level, the branches were plentiful, and Lucy reached for the nearest one. It was almost too large for her to wrap her hand around, one fingertip barely touching her thumb, but it didn't even creak when she tugged on it. She found a much smaller one underneath it, within reach of her feet, and she swung herself over, holding most of her weight from her arm as she heard the branch beneath her groan.

"You do get yourself into the strangest scrapes. Be careful, Lu." The breathless words made Lucy look back to see Susan, clinging to her handholds with white, clenched fingers.

"It's alright," Lucy spoke without thinking. Susan glanced down and froze, panting with fear, but looked back up again as her younger sister spoke. "We're in Aslan's paws."

It is, of course, the height of irony that the branch beneath Lucy's feet breaks just as she reaches to reassure her sister. Lucy screams, falling, but so different than the other times, no stone arms beneath her as she plumments. Susan's scream echoes her own.

The boys hear the screams and leap to their feet, looking wildly down the road. They run.

Sirrioth, who had been bringing their breakfast, heard as well, and he flies faster than the feet of Adam's race. He had been a carekeeper of the young before they were still, and knew how to catch the ones who couldn't fly. He dived for Lucy, Susan's eyes going wide as she saw him go headfirst toward her sister, arms stretching out when he got close. Lucy's eyes were wide when she saw him and she reached back, for the stone arms of safety, and she curled into him when he caught her. She stopped, panting, listening to the steady beats of his wings, thanking Aslan she had not died. She caught her breath and looked up at him.

"You should not leave the road if you don't have wings," he admonished.

"My sister is still up there. Please," Lucy cleared her throat, trying again, "please, can you fly to her?" She wanted her sister, and Peter, and Edmund. Sirrioth looked up, at Susan clinging small against the tree trunk, and with a push of both wings he thrust them upward.

The boys had circled one trunk and were reaching the next when the Telar dropped down on all sides, surrounding them on the road. Zedekah, stone eyes blinking slowly, stood between them and their sisters.

"You were not to leave the dwelling," he told Edmund.

"Move!" Edmund and Peter both stepped forward, ready to push him out of the way, but Zedekah held up one hand.

"Your sister is safe." Another blink as he woke himself. Peter and Edmund glanced at each other, not ready to take his word for it. "She fell from the branches beneath the road, but Sirrioth has caught her." The Telar leader took a step towards the two Kings. "Now it is time."

Sirrioth shifted Lucy to sit on one shoulder and caught Susan gently around the waist with the other arm. This gave her room to reach over and grab Lucy's wrist in both hands, face pale as she listened to Lucy's reassurances. He looked from one girl to the other. "What are you doing beneath the road?"

"We were trying to get to the ground," Lucy said breathlessly. She watched as his face wrinkled with sadness.

"It might be better for you to see the good than stay here and see the—other," he muttered.

"The other?" Susan asked sharply, still clinging to Lucy's wrist but turning her head to look at him. He shook his head.

"It is not for children to know. I will take you where you are safe, and where you can see the good," he answered, and his dive cut off Susan's words. He flew down, down, and further down, the light becoming scarcer, quieter as they reached the ground. The huge trunks loomed in larger circles than the buildings above, and their branches were thicker than Susan's waist. The streets grew more numerous, but he dodged them all, at last setting the Queens down on the ground itself on a large paved circle surrounded by broken walls. Across the circle was a square of stones, crumbling on one end, and many places in the circle had broken pavers littering the ground.

Susan, having gotten her breath back, opened her mouth to demand answers. Sirrioth spoke before she could. "Stay here. Jumak does not understand you are young—you are children—but he is elsewhere, with your brothers, I think, for that is happening now. You should be safe here. Wait for the Telar to come, that you may witness the life that comes. I must check the drawing from above."

Lucy seized Susan's other hand, waiting till he had jumped into the sky to whisper, "The drawing. Khonat said they were digging lines for it. It might be here, we might be able to delay them-"

"By filling in their drawing," Susan agreed in a whisper of her own. "I think it might be the only thing we have time for now."

"No." Peter took a step in front of Edmund, standing between Zedekah and his brother. "You cannot have him."

"We must." Edmund glanced around as the circle of gigantic monkeys moved inwards. There were twelve Telar, in addition to Zedekah. Two would have been enough. Perhaps even one. This was a losing battle.

And Peter was fighting it anyway. "Then take another king. There are other kings, kings who do not deserve their titles, who have taken their thrones by blood and greed. You had a hundred years to use Janis as a sacrifice, take another king!"

Zedekah paused; Edmund could hear his footsteps stop. Silence followed as the other Telar followed his lead. "To sacrifice an evil king is to gain an evil king," Zedekah said at last. "We could not take a Queen for a King; and if we had taken the White Terror, we would have gained only a Terror to rule us. We need a king. The greater the king, the greater the sacrifice. We need Aslan's king."

"To sacrifice a good king is to become a terror yourself. If you would have Aslan's king, then follow Aslan's rules!" Peter's voice still held that command, but Edmund knew him. He could hear the pleading beneath it. If Peter did not win by words, he would not win at all. And Peter knew it.

"Aslan has not saved us, and we must save ourselves. We do this so our king may be Aslan's, and he can sentence us as he will." Edmund heard another heavy step, heard it echoed in the Telar all around him, and turned till he stood against Peter's back, facing out. But it was useless as Zedekah commanded, "Take him." He ducked under a stone arm, choosing a moment later to step away from Peter, to draw them away from him, twisted to avoid another hand, drawing himself back, only to lose his balance as a wing clipped his shoulder. He dropped onto the smooth wood and rolled. He came back to his feet with a heavy breath. He took another instant step back, he had to get away—and he stepped on empty air. He began to fall, only for stone fingers to close around both arms. Three Telar held him, drawing him back in, and suddenly he was aware of Peter's shouting his name. He looked around, panting, and the Telar parted for Zedekah to come near. To the side was Peter, held by two Telar, his frantic eyes looking at Edmund.

"Zedekah, if you need a king, then I am one!"

Oh no. "Peter, don't you dare-"

"I'm the eldest. The three are my responsibility. If you must take a life, take mine!" The stone leader looked over to Peter, and Edmund saw the compassion on his face, the compassion that made what he was doing so much worse. But Edmund cared less about that than Peter's offer.

"You said we didn't get to die for another race when Aslan gave us Narnia!" he reminded his brother. He wished Peter would look at him, would see that of all outcomes, this was not one Edmund could stand. Aslan had already died for him; not Peter, Peter couldn't die for him too.

"I'm not dying for another race, I'm dying for my brother, and that is a charge Aslan gave me," Peter hissed, his eyes still on Zedekah.

"You are not dying." Zedekah turned, walking to the High King, and despite the Telar's words Edmund tensed. But Zedekah only placed his hands on Peter's shoulders, gentle, facing the wrath blazing at him from the eyes of Edmund's brother. "I know what it is to be the leader. I saw my people tearing themselves apart. I saw their need. You have seen it too, in Narnia, for I see your heart has been given to it, as mine has to the Telar. I made myself into what they needed, as you have made yourself into a king. But there is this difference between us, that you are still a child. I am not. I have lived longer than the White Terror ruled. I have seen the rise and fall of nations. Narnia will need your heart, King. I can see it. It is the older who rules better. And because I am old and you are a child, I have made the choice for you. We harm only what we must, and it will do Narnia less harm to take the younger King. You will live, older King of Narnia, and in our King you will see your brother reborn, and so Narnia and the Telar will be friends. I will offer you my head when it is finished. I give you my word, when my kind rises on the wings of flesh once again, I will submit to your justice peacefully, knowing I have done what I must."

"No," Peter choked. "I did not make myself King, Aslan did; I rule by His appointment, and so does Edmund. Zedekah, don't touch what is His-"

The Telar turned away, cutting him off, and one of the Telar who held him covered the High King's mouth. Zedekah walked to Edmund. Edmund stared up, looking at the tired face of the one who would kill him, and swallowed. There was nothing he could do, no way to keep his oath. Peter could not rescue him. Only Aslan could save him now.

Far below, Susan bent down and scooped up some of the loose pavers, handing some to Lucy. "Let's see if we can fill the drawing with these, when we find it." Lucy took them from her and the two began walking. With no direction to follow, they headed for one of the scattered piles of paving stones. Picking their way carefully between them, Susan at first did not notice the hazard in front of her, but Lucy's horrified whisper of "Susan," made her look at her sister, then down where her sister was gazing.

The pavers had been torn up in a line as wide as her hand, freshly dug, for she could still smell the earth. It reached deeper than her waist, dug into the earth by hands trying not to think about what they were doing. It was the drawing the Telar needed for their spell, the lines on the table cut far deeper into the earth, and, looking left and right, Susan realised the lines ran in all directions, a complicated drawing of intersections and slants and broad strokes. It overwhelmed her. "There's no way we can fill it," she whispered in sudden pain, the stones in her hands suddenly tiny. Such things were far too small to save her brother.

"We can try!" Lucy dropped her stones in the trench, falling to her knees and reaching out to push the trampled dirt and lose stones into the ditch. Susan followed a moment later, knowing as she did she was doing this because she must. She had to do something; but Lucy's face held the fierce determination of someone who clung to faith. Susan had none. She did this because she must do something, but they couldn't fill even one line fully with the dirt and stones around them—and Sirrioth said the sacrifice was happening now.

Only slightly above them, Jumak watched their efforts with an unpleasant smirk. They were as squirrels trying to stop the felling of a tree. Unless they filled the whole of the line, it would not matter. They could not do that in the moments they had left. But he would stay and watch their pathetic efforts, making sure nothing went wrong. Zedekah had ordered him to the taking of the sacrifice. But pah! Why listen? His place was here, watching over the place of his king.

Edmund stayed as calm as he could. He would face death as a knight, as Aslan's king. Zedekah placed both hands on Edmund's crown, his thumbs circling the front and his fingers the back, and he began to speak.

"A sacrifice is made. A life for a life, for the defense of the Telar. A king for a king, for the defense of the Telar. A life for a life, for the defense of the Telar. A king for a king, for…" Zedekah's low voice started it, but around Edmund the Telar joined in, the chant building in volume, and Edmund could feel his crown beginning to heat. His blood rushed to his head, hot under the crown. His feet grew rapidly numb, then his legs. He could no longer stand, but the hands that had been holding him still now held him up. The numbness took his knees, rushing up his body as the crown grew hotter, and he realised that his life itself was being transferred to the crown. If they took it from his head and put it on the Telar King's—a life for a life, transferred through a crown.

"There's no more stones!" Lucy's voice sounded—it sounded like when she'd seen Aslan's face, muzzled and cold and dead, and Susan couldn't stand it, not in her younger sister.

"We'll go get some more!" She scrambled to her feet, heading for the largest pile of them, the square pile, while Lucy moved further down the line they were filling. She grabbed an armful of stones, bruising her fingers, running back and dumping them in. They filled one tiny portion halfway, but Lucy noticed, and ran to join her, and the two went back and forth, back and forth, panting, trying to fill the line, to stop the spell. With longer legs Susan was faster, and she reached the trench, filled it, and was back while Lucy still filled her arms. Susan checked Lucy's face, quickly, just a moment, but in that moment she tripped on a stone and fell face first.

"Susan! Susan?"

"I'm fine, just keep going!" Susan panted. She pushed herself up, watching as Lucy took off. But the pause gave her a moment to think, to remember that Sirrioth had said he was checking the image they were trying to fill. She scanned the skies, trying to spot stone in the low light. If the two girls were caught, what would happen?

But there were no Telar in the sky, nor in the courtyard, except, wait, one just there. He'd hidden behind the pile, invisible to anyone who wasn't a few feet away.

A stone wing rested on a back, and Susan scrambled to her feet. She paused, wanting to flee, knowing she couldn't, remembering Edmund—and walked around the pile to see a Telar, still, both wings on his back, his head bent and looking at the ground. But his face was different. His face, even in stone, remained furrowed in grief, and stone tears were cemented to his cheeks, and smooth stone circle weighed down his head. Susan knew that look, the look of the oppressed, the failures. The look of a spirit breaking under evil, and the Gentle Queen lifted her hand to brush the tear away.

There was no Juddahum to stop her, as there had been for Lucy, and the moment Susan's hand touched the cheek, the face cracked. Horrified, Susan backed up. The cracks spread from the face to the shoulders, the wings, the stomach, she couldn't look away—the cracks reached the feet and the statue crumbled, all the pieces falling at once. The sad, tired face suddenly (Susan might have imagined it) smiled before hitting the ground and becoming pebbles.

All through the forest, the Telar felt the death of their King. Zedekah jerked back, the Telar around him falling to their knees with a cry, the hands on Edmund's arms releasing him. He fell face forward, the life from his crown rushing back into him with a dizzying rush. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, he could only feel. Alive, that pounding of his heart, that rush of blood into his feet, his fingers, the tingling.

There were suddenly hands on his shoulders, small hands, warm, flesh hands, and he couldn't hear over the blood in his ears but he'd give anything in a bet, so sure was he it was Peter, who was probably calling his name. The hands felt his neck, slid up to feel his crown, back down to his shoulders, and Peter was rolling him over. Peter's face was right above him, mouth moving, and yes, it was definitely Peter, and Edmund laughed. He couldn't help it, he felt so alive. Peter's face jerked back, confused, and it was so funny Edmund laughed again. The blood in his ears was subsiding.

"I'm all right, Peter, I'm all right," he gasped around his laughter, and Peter's eyes narrowed before jerking Edmund up into a tight, smothering hug. It was less than a moment, a split second of sensation, of being safe, because love was the safest thing Edmund knew, defeating the cruel and cold, even within himself.

Then Peter was on his feet, pulling Edmund up as well and glaring at Zedekah, though the Telar, bent over and trembling from whatever had hurt the other Telar as well, did not notice the Kings. Beside Edmund, Peter braced to fight. Right, because this worked so well last time, Edmund thought, but before anyone could speak, a heart-wrenching cry rose from far below.

"My King!"

OOOOO

A/N: I'm sorry I ended it there, but this is six pages going on seven, and I'm hoping to wrap up Part I in one or two more chapters. For those who wanted Edmund angst, I tried. I am curious - I hope you don't mind me asking - did anyone see this solution coming?