Chapter Seven: The Lion's Mercy

Peter's eyes bored into Franck's back as he followed the centaur from the room. Only when the door had shut behind him did he turn to his brother. "You can't want a Nazi invasion of Narnia any more than I do, Ed."

"I don't see an invasion, Peter," Edmund said quietly. "I see one German who has been forced to fight in the Nazi army whether he agrees with their ideals or not."

"Yet he did fight for them."

"And Mr Tumnus was in the pay of the White Witch — her spy and informer."

"He never expected to have to do anything to earn that pay — when it finally came down to it, he betrayed her. This Nazi has fought against England, Edmund!"

"We rule Narnia, Peter — not England. It's for others to judge crimes against her."

Pain twisted Peter's face for a moment.

"Peter? What is it?"

Peter sighed. "He — might have shot Father, Ed."

"And I betrayed you to the Witch," Edmund said softly. "Not out of compulsion — I realise you've tried to make excuses for me, but I know my own heart — but voluntarily. And not only did Aslan forgive me after giving his life to save me, he set me on the very throne of Narnia. Can we do any less?"

Peter sighed deeply. "No," he admitted quietly. "Thank you, Just."

Edmund smiled and waved a hand for the centaur to bring Franck back in.

oOo

Franck approached the thrones slowly, having managed to convince himself that there was little hope he would be allowed to remained in Narnia. What his fate would be, he remained unable to guess; he was unsure whether these kings possessed the power to send him back to his own world. Perhaps after all there would be no choice but for him to remain, but as a prisoner in some castle dungeon.

"Franck son of Adam."

"Y-your majesty?"

"We have decided to grant you the same mercy Aslan has shown to us, and allow you to remain in Narnia, provided you abide by her rules and treat her citizens with respect and kindness."

Franck fought a grin trying to spread across his face. "I'll do my best, your majesty."

"You are invited to dine with our sisters and us," the king continued. "Sebastian!"

The satyr returned, bowing more deeply than usual in an attempt to atone for the offense he had unwittingly committed. "Your majesty?"

"Take this son of Adam to a guest chamber and find some clothes for him; burn what he has on. I will not allow Nazi uniforms to be worn in Narnia," he added to Franck.

"I'll be glad to be rid of it," Franck assured him. "Sire?"

"Yes?"

"I…came with a stag; is he invited as well?"

The king smiled. "By all means. See to it, Sebastian…and be sure the cook is not serving venison." The Talking Animals of Narnia had no issues with the hunting of their wild counterparts, but it was common courtesy not to serve as a course the same species you were entertaining as a guest.

"Yes, sire," Sebastian agreed, bowing once more before gesturing for Franck to follow him. The two were nearly out the door when King Peter's voice called after them.

"Franck?"

Franck turned back. "Your majesty?"

"This is the last either of us will speak of the world from which we both come…but I must know. How — goes the war there?"

"It…looks dark for England, sire," Franck admitted.

Peter groaned, pressing a hand over his face. "I have fought and won against armies of ogres and giants…yet I can do nothing to aid the land of my birth." After a moment he drew a long breath, raising his head. "And so I must leave it in Aslan's care," he concluded. "From this moment, Franck, we are not British and German, but all Narnian together."

Epilogue coming next week!

I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know! (Note that this story is formatted using British spellings.)

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