It was news that spread quickly, and it was joyous and met with as much celebration as a country could swathe from its life force. Indeed, if Narnia had one export that it was not known for but thrived in, it would have been the tale that spread quickly of what had happened in the tunnels. At least, several variations of it did, and each seemed more and more ridiculous than the last. Elizabeth rather enjoyed hearing each variation, and regaled her friend with them each night which he, in turned, loathed to hear. Nevertheless, one thing remained more true than desperate cries of love or Edmund taking to one knee to serenade Elizabeth, one thing he would be too embarrassed to attempt in any life let alone on any regular day in the castle. The Gracious Lady and the Just King had been seen, as Nigel most aptly called it, canoodling around the castle. Not just the castle, but the stables, the plains during their rides, all manner of libraries, and any place where any person could be fooled into thinking there was a skerrick of privacy. There were many reasons to celebrate. Of course, there was the happy union, the two souls of the epitome of Narnia's heart and her adoring suitor, the honourable and compassionate king, but there were many more reasons that had presented themselves before their reveal when King Edmund had been caught proposing to Lady Elizabeth on her balcony naught but two months later.

Anyone who knew both parties intimately had noticed the changes. Edmund was lighter and indeed happier. His ruling seemed sublime and kinder. He, more than ever, felt every soul deserved a fair and decent punishment which he doled with his sincere heart. Elizabeth had always floated and radiated joy, love, and openhearted airs as Nigel had trained her to do, but now her smiles were genuine whenever discussing sewerage and issues of war. Corin, who remained in the Narnian palace, had not identified the cause of his godmother's distraction, but welcomed it as it allowed him all the freedom he desired. In fact, he had only realised the clandestine affair was happening beneath his nose when he had stumbled upon some secret tunnels in the castle absolutely no one knew about (for, he mused, they would have told the Kings and Queens and his godmother who would have banned if not decimated the entrances so they could never be used again. A travesty, since there were many that ran from her rooms to all her favourite places in the castle) and was passing by her room when he heard happy cries of joy. Corin had immediately investigated to see King Edmund on bended knee with a grand ring attached to what appeared to be a sizable jewel. Elizabeth cried and embraced the King while he laughed, something Corin had never witnessed before in his many years of knowing him. Both had been too preoccupied to notice he had come from the fireplace and not the door when he approached.

"What is going on here?" he demanded.

Elizabeth twirled and hugged her ringed hand to her chest. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and Edmund's eyes seemed pained due to the straining of his mouth. "We're getting married," she announced blissfully.

"You and King Edmund?"

"Yes, Corin."

"Without permission?"

"And whose permission do I require?" Edmund said with his normal, natural pouty frown returning once again. "I'm the king."

"And I don't need anyone interfering in my choices. They certainly do that enough in all other aspects of my life," Elizabeth frowned with her new betrothed.

"Well, mine, to begin."

"And do I not have your permission, young prince?"

"You certainly do not!" Corin answered the king, "No one is or ever will be good enough for Bethy. She is a goddess amongst, well, I don't know. You, I suppose."

"Corin!" Elizabeth gaped. She felt horrified for a myriad of reasons, but the least of which was that her godson would behave so appallingly towards any one person, let alone a king.

"You cannot tell me he is an appropriate suitor," Corin demanded of Elizabeth. Elizabeth strode the fifteen feet closer to her godson to caress his gentle face.

"With my heart," she swore, "And least of which does it need you to complicate or sabotage matters you have not been willing enough to learn about."

"I do not need to learn about love," Corin scoffed, "I am not nor shall not plan to wed ever." Elizabeth smiled knowingly down at him. Corin despised the look. She knew Edmund had made the exact vows, many times to Elizabeth herself.

"If you are so intent on Edmund proving his worth, albeit there is no reason for him to as he is a king and unlikely to be matched in kindness, intelligence, sweetness, humour, all the skills which define royalty from diplomacy to sword play, or satisfactoriness or acceptability in a match, then what criteria are you measuring against?"

"I will come up with some," Corin swore. And indeed he did, but not in the time it took for High King Peter to hear of the news via letter and write an official proclamation that sounded in every corner of the continent that King Edmund the Just had acceded Lady Elizabeth of Cair Paravel to be his future wife.

It is with the greatest of pleasure that High King Peter, Queen Susan, and Queen Lucy announce the betrothal of their dearly beloved brother, King Edmund, to Lady Elizabeth, to which union the High King has gladly given his consent. It was a summer night the date the news spread. Celebrations raged until the end of the season. As it slipped into autumn, the castle buzzed with plans. While the invitations had been sent, contracts to partake in the event were submitted, Nigel was aware there were many more tasks to accomplish prior to the first royal family member's nuptials. Not to mention, Queen Susan had expressed her desire to assist in the planning and to hold the wedding before the year was out.

The day was as grand as the Narnians had dreamt. To Elizabeth and Edmund, it passed quite in a whirl. The planning, for once, had been entirely out of her hands although the occasion was something Elizabeth would have wanted to partake in, perhaps even the first she had keenly requested to participate in. Rather, Nigel filled her time with all sorts of lessons and events to prepare her from the transition of Lady Elizabeth to Queen Elizabeth the Gracious. It was quite like being the ten-year-old girl who had first arrived in Narnia all over again. Instead, Queen Susan, who had not married in that year herself, assured Elizabeth she would instead take care of every detail for her. This, for some reason, did not fill Elizabeth with a huge sense of pleasure or relief as the gesture had been intended to do so. Elizabeth would instead spend many of her nights lying in bed wondering if perhaps, as she had with Torrent, she had been caught up and ought to have stretched out courting her best friend as the events had moved too quickly for her liking. It wasn't that she was any less in love with Edmund. It was more the fact a sense of panic had washed over the people closest to her meaning instead of a joyous occasion, it felt stressful. Worse, she could not speak to the one person she wanted to about this as he had disappeared from her circle.

Edmund was sulky because, in their eight-month engagement, he had not spoken to his betrothed more than a handful of times. Elizabeth had been swept away by any number of excuses or he found her sleeping in her rooms and felt too guilty to disturb her. One memorable occasion, he had tracked Elizabeth down in her study and ordered all manner of help to leave them in peace. Dare he say it, Elizabeth looked incredibly grateful. She wore a pleasing smile across her face and had walked eight steps across to Edmund before Nigel had stepped into the room with an itinerary. Whilst Edmund to convince Nigel to allow them to share one measly breakfast in each other's company, Nigel has insisted that breakfast wasn't a possibility as Elizabeth has ascended the simplicity of a meal time. The simplicity of a meal time, he had scoffed to Peter and Lucy. It was that evening Edmund was educated that Nigel had eclipsed Elizabeth's days so totally that she had not shared a meal with anyone, not even her dearest friends, as she awoke too early and slept too late for their schedules. Edmund did attempt to stay awake to join her for dinner. He fell asleep in her receiving room after three in the morning, and awoke with a love note scrunched in his hand from his future wife.

On the day in question, Edmund considered whether it would be worthwhile to marry his friend at all if this would be their marriage. The only three factors holding him to his promise were his honour, his love for her, and that even if he had changed his mind, he would not have been allowed more than a moment to tell her. Otherwise, Edmund would have called the whole thing off.

Elizabeth had been so tired from entertaining their guests until very late the previous evening prior to having her last fitting which, due to a naiad spilling wine over her dress, meant she had been standing upright on a stool for the four hours before sunrise as all manners of ladies maids rushed around the castle to find an appropriately suitable backup. She remembered a grand dress was put over her head, and being shuffled into a hall, then there was a very long period of time where her memory felt dark yet she hazily remembered swearing herself in as queen—which would have been after the ceremony, logically—but the one thing she remembered most about her wedding day was finding herself sitting along under the moonlight after escaping the utter madness. She had tried to retire to her rooms but there were maids and servants running about, packing up, and refusing her entry as she was being moved into a much more lavish suite, as was Edmund. The two suites each had five rooms and were connected with a large balcony and a main parlour. She would be sharing a wing with her new husband, not that she retained any memory of obtaining a husband.

So, as Elizabeth would do, she had hidden herself in Queen Swanwhite's garden. Knowing his friend, Edmund made his way down as well to find Elizabeth—more beautiful than he had ever seen which was a triumph in and of itself—gazing up at the stars on the bench she believed no one knew was her own private sanctum.

"They're preparing our rooms. Nigel wants us back at the party," he sulked. Elizabeth smiled at her friend. Then, she stood up to curtsey at him. "What are you doing?" Edmund asked.

"Lady Elizabeth, your majesty."

"I know. And it's Queen Elizabeth, actually."

"Don't I feel a bit like a stranger to you now?"

"Do I feel like a stranger to you?"

"I feel we haven't spoken in months. I've missed you tremendously, Ed."

Edmund's regrets flooded back to him. He had been worried about marrying her, yet, Elizabeth knew each of his emotions so intimately that they turned into her own. He grinned as he sat on the bench. Elizabeth sat next to him once more. Edmund shuffled closer so their thighs were touching. He smiled down at his perfect wife. His best friend. His greatest ally. And he knew he was safe to say or be anything. "I have missed you more than life itself. The greatest pain was that you were never more than fifty feet from me."

"Did you enjoy today?"

"It's been the greatest day of my life," he nodded. Elizabeth's heart swelled at those words.

"I was so sure you would dread it. Everyone was looking at you."

"They were more likely looking at you. You're beautiful, Liz."

"You're much nicer now we're married. We should have done this years ago," Elizabeth teased him. She poked his side to show it was all in jest. Edmund, as he only rarely did when he was alone with her, lifted of the weight of being a king or a brother or a traitor or however else anyone besides the woman in front of him saw him, beamed a carefree smile.

"You look exhausted."

"I have not slept in two days. I have not eaten in one."

Edmund smirked. "I thought you'd transcended meals."

"Nigel was displeased when I caught hiccups before meeting with a dignitary eating lunch while rushing between meetings once. I dare say he's been worse for you."

"Perhaps the one pleasure of marrying you, Liz. Nigel has been quite preoccupied over the last few months."

Liz pouted. "By the lion's mane, how is that fair? You are the king. You should have the responsibilities and lessons."

"You are his most precious lady."

"Poppycock."

"Did he teach you to have such a bitter expression in your voice?" Edmund teased. Elizabeth strained a grin back.

"No. That I learnt from you." Still, Edmund could not bring himself to be angry. It felt precisely as it did back before they were courting. Back before everyone else apparently deemed themselves important enough to insert themselves into his relationship with his love and dearest friend. Edmund reached forwards to hold Elizabeth's hand. Their fingers interwove themselves. He marvelled not only at their touch and different sizes, but at the absence of anyone marching forwards to tell him it was inappropriate to act so affectionately prior to their ceremony. Elizabeth rested her head on his shoulder. One of the most horrendous lessons she had wished not to have learnt, the one lesson where Nigel had left the room with more haste than Elizabeth had ever seen from the panther, regarding wifely duties floated through her mind. She was too exhausted, however. She was not aware if Edmund had received a similar oration, but she prayed he would be understanding that she did not yet feel herself or that of Queen Elizabeth. She only felt like Liz. And, all three of their suites were preoccupied. Edmund was considering the absolute heaven their honeymoon would provide. The king's mind did not dare consider matrimonial bliss, but rather the solitude that awaited them both the following week when Edmund surprised his new bride with an island he planned to gift her, a remote island where only the barest of staff and attendants would follow them as part of a month-long celebration of their nuptials.

"Did you enjoy today?" Edmund asked after a while had passed and he was worried Elizabeth might have begun dozing against his shoulder. He received a strained hum but nothing more to answer his question. "Did you regret perhaps we mightn't've gotten married?"

As tired as she was, Elizabeth cleared her mind and sat up at that question so she could face her friend—nay, her husband—to alleviate his worries and she was so good at and so enjoyed doing so. "I am holding judgement until we have spent at least one customary day together as husband and wife. I presumed I might've been more panicked or felt the need to fly away from Cair Paravel at the first call of adventure—"

"Yet, you weren't?" he doubted. Elizabeth pouted under his gaze.

"No, I was," she admitted, "but each time temptation struck, I retreated to our tunnels, particularly the one where we first found the statue that's now apparently been moved to a courtyard in our honour."

"It's quite a handsome spot for it," Edmund admitted.

"Even if my desire was to leave the restraints of oncoming queendom," Elizabeth huffed, "I found myself unable to run back to my destiny with you." Though, not answer Edmund was wishing to hear, it comforted him to his core that she had not enjoyed their engagement, as he hadn't, and that ultimately, she still felt marrying him was the right course of action, as he did. "Now, I am aware you are not one for big sentimental declarations of love—"

"So, please, do not make one," Edmund begged. Elizabeth grinned cheekily up at her love.

"I could not run away as Nigel would drag me home, what with me being his favourite and my everlasting devotion to his chores," she finished, teasing him. Edmund laughed at his friend's—his wife's—stupid joke.

"Indeed, it is a love story for the ages," he mused. At that second, Elizabeth's love cleared his throat. Both Edmund and Elizabeth felt like naughty children getting caught making fun of their principle. Nigel looked amused at their expressions.

"Your suites are ready, your highnesses."

"That is bizarre," Elizabeth whispered to Edmund. Edmund grinned down at her.

"Not at all," he disagreed. They stood together then walked behind the panther who led them around the festivities which were still raging around the castle. Elizabeth supposed he knew them both well enough that they would be wanting to retire rather than to see out the last of the partygoers. It was quite the easy decision, even without the proper consideration. As a matter of sweetness or perhaps another wedding gift, Nigel had arranged it so their suite had a proper banquet set in a dining room for them before swiftly biding them each good night. Elizabeth remembered the sweet gesture for years left to come, and her blissful wedding eve which followed after she had been granted more energy from the meal, all the way through the years until one fateful day, years after their betrothal, when she reminisced, it was still one of the nicest acts Elizabeth had seen from the panther.

Edmund strode down the passage towards his wife. He was sporting a contented neutral countenance, eyes lit up brilliantly, as he and his brother discussed the hunt before them. Elizabeth, who was coming back in from a long ride, sported a beautiful smile upon the very sight of him. As he knew she would prefer, Edmund paused his conversation to walk up to Elizabeth to kiss her cheek softly in greeting.

"Pray tell, by what hideous design do you purloin my husband when I have yet to break fast with him this day?" Elizabeth greeted her brother-in-law, the High King.

"Madame," Peter chuckled with a bow to match her curtsey, "Indeed it is I who is stolen away as well, for to accompany your graciousness in dining would only be my mere privilege as king." Elizabeth wrapped her hand around Edmund's whose spirits were heightened in excitement for their upcoming endeavour.

"Ah, my beloved lady, the White Stag has been spotted in the Wester Woods. I intend to set out with a party to seek the quarry for there are tales of the beast granting wishes to those who catch it."

"And for what possible purpose would you wish to capture such a creature when you surely have the world at your fingertips, my dearest?" Elizabeth retorted.

"But I am in it for the hunt. I would understand if a gentle lady as yourself did not appreciate the spirit of such a challenge," he mused while Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him. Finally, the grin took place on his face. Elizabeth squeezed his hand but remained frowning.

"And I would understand if a brutish man did not appreciate any stag that takes refuge in his woods is Narnian and should not be sought for sport or accomplishment, but I do not understand my husband, whom is not a brutish man but an endearingly kind one, insists there is no difference."

"Be I not both gentle yet brutish? Am I so defined that I cannot grow or succeed in whichever talent I choose?"

"Yes, but—"

"Liz, we wish to apprehend the stag, never a word was spoken about harming the creature. Perhaps it is your desire yet inability to join such an event which gifted us your lecture," Edmund finished promptly. As had become one of his treasured moments, he again pressed his lips to her cheek. Elizabeth smiled and leant into the embrace.

"You speak of events you know naught of, Ed. You say I possess an inability to join the hunt, yet I am quite accomplished on horseback. I say, I shall accompany you this morn and prove yet again, once I am astride my master steed, you will not be able to match me stride for stride."

"As pleasurable as my defeat would be for you, my dear, I know something you do not know, Liz."

"And what would that be?" Elizabeth hummed.

"That with myself and my sibling out of the castle, someone must remain behind to keep the chief royal advisor preoccupied," he snickered. Elizabeth's face fell. Her mouth opened to argue ferociously against the claim when the chief advisor himself appeared from her flank.

"Your highness," Nigel putted behind them. He offered deep bows to both kings before turning back to the queen in question. "You are needed in the throne room as a matter of urgency. You are to host court this afternoon in the kings' absences. Indeed, word has spread and as ever, subjects are most excited to consult with Narnian's Gracious Lady." Elizabeth forced a smile to her face. She pulled Edmund's hand to her face to kiss the back of it before trailing behind the panther.

"My wish will be that you could join us," Edmund teased as his wife left the stables. Elizabeth sent a peeved look over her shoulder. "Ah, she will forgive me over dinner when I present her with her gift for our twenty-third anniversary."

"Lizzy requested you did not bequeath it at the party?" Peter asked, although he and his calm smile betrayed he already knew the answer. Edmund's smile dimmed the further away Elizabeth became from the men. They walked towards their mounts as their conversation continued. Edmund's face, previously contemplative and impartial, grew to a slight frown.

"Aslan could not have blessed me with a better wife himself, who adores and believes in me in all aspects but one. Liz would rather I do not save it for tomorrow's festivities."

"Yet, you hope it will cure her annoyance?" Peter mused.

"Elizabeth has not yet disliked a gift of mine in all our years." Aslan had chosen to also bless Peter as it was at that moment they stumbled upon their sisters who were in deep discussion with courtiers about the hunt, whereby the conversation had ended advantageously prematurely for the High King. Less advantageously, the four would not realise that it was a premature end for their time in Narnia, or Edmund would have raced back to the castle and refused the hunt altogether.

It was nineteen weeks before Elizabeth found out what had happened to her family. News came back from the hunt that the monarchs had disappeared, and it had been over a week in desperation that Elizabeth, the remaining heir, had been allowed to search the Western Woods to seek out their trail. The search parties had been entirely unsuccessful. Elizabeth, who wanted to cry herself to sleep each evening, instead took over for the kings and queens in their absence. She was nothing if not gracious and the strength of Narnia whilst its hearts had been lost. After the third month, some Narnians lost hope. Elizabeth became a beacon of inspiration, and enduring spirit. It was also after the third month that, while Elizabeth had hope in her soul that she would be reunited with her family, and her best friend and husband, she allowed herself to cry. The loneliness and lost love were crushing weights she needed Edmund to share, which was ironic as he was the cause of it. Dare Elizabeth say it, but it seemed to destroy parts of her soul each day, for each day she found another reason to miss him and another reason to mourn his absence. Still, there was no choice for her but to carry on. She tried as she could. Each day, she would wake up, knowing she could take pride in her country and she used that love and the knowledge of the woman she was, to guide her actions. If all she had left was to uphold their memories and to do her best, then Elizabeth, as she had decades of practice to do so, excelled at the sheer thought of it. The one action she had done which had not been taken lightly was the banning of any hunting, be it dumb beast or prey meant for game, and that had been a decision originating from fear.

Elizabeth had been walking back from a meeting at the blacksmith guild when it had happened. A crack in the pavement meant she hopped over a stone but, when she expected to fall lightly on the other side of the road, Elizabeth was propelled further and further until—with a shock, a chill that rushed its way through her leg—she realised she was in a creek, a wet, cold creek, and the other bank was fast approaching her face whereas her body was quickly approaching the water. It happened in a second. Elizabeth's face collided with the mud, and she closed her eyes in anticipation yet refused to open them from confusion.

"You fell in the poo!" a voice shrieked. It was that of a young child's. Elizabeth was doubly so confused. Her advisors, friends, and handmaidens should have rushed to pull her up, but a small child was taunting her over her shoulder, Lizzy's covered in poo, poo-poo Lizzy, poo-poo Lizzy, poo-poo Lizzy! At which point, a woman picked her up.

"Lizzy, oh, goodness, you shouldn't have run off in such a mad rush. This is why the other children are better to play with than getting upset," the voice of a woman said. There felt like a hundred eyes on her as Elizabeth's face was wiped with a familiar-scented towel, held by the hand of a woman who also smelt familiar. Then, Elizabeth looked into the eyes of her mother. Her mother whom she had forgotten about and did not care to spare one thought to in many, many decades. Whilst her heart was heavy and weighed with the love of Narnia and its people, Elizabeth vaguely remembered this brook, this fall, living with the Beavers who had since passed and, most importantly, how she had met Edmund, believing him to be a dream. Elizabeth started to cry. "It's okay. You're alright. We'll take you to the hospital to see if you have a head wound or a concussion," Heather, Elizabeth's mother, fretted. "Hurry up, Lizzy, what if you have really done some damage to yourself this time?"

It seemed pointless telling her mother she had been in battles, and she knew she did not have a concussion because she'd had a few before and they did not feel like this. However, her head hurt and her mother was already pulling her away while the neighbourhood children watched onwards—her peers, she realised with another sinking heart. Elizabeth was once more the curious pouting girl whose mind kept crawling back to the Pevensies. For Elizabeth, who perhaps wasn't the smartest, or bravest, or prettiest ten-year-old girl she had ever met (doubly so, as she was covered in mud and scrapes from a jump that had been idiotic and painful), was once again a ten-year-old girl.