Helen and Susan spent much of the afternoon together, walking through the large palace gardens and taking a tour of the castle. Helen had been very impressed by the beauty of Cair Paravel, and quickly realized that what she had seen last night was only the beginning of its delights. The gardens were spectacular, filled with plants of every colour and description imaginable, and each room of the Cair seemed more elegant then the last.
Even more important then the physical appearance of it all, however, was the general atmosphere. All who resided there, from the smallest mouse to the largest bear, seemed content and happy. Everyone they had come across that day had greeted them with genuine friendliness, and Helen was pleased that the citizens of this strange land all seemed to have respect and admiration for her children. She still did not know everything there was to know about their first fifteen years here, but she was increasingly convinced that their reign must have been (for the most part) peaceful and prosperous.
They had certainly done her proud.
As the sun began to set over the eastern sea, the women made their way back to the great hall for dinner. This was to be Helen's first meal with the rest of the court, and she was eager to finally see her sons who had (according to Susan) been wrapped up in various meetings all day. Upon entering the hall, however, she was disappointed to see Lucy and Tumnus alone at the high table, and her hopes were dashed when her youngest daughter informed her that the boys would not make it to dinner.
Susan did not seem surprised by this report, but she gave her mother a sympathetic glance.
"Sorry Mum." She had said, taking her seat at the long marble table. "Unfortunately this does happen sometimes."
Helen had tried to brush off her disappointment (she was, of course, very happy to enjoy the meal with her girls and did not want them to think otherwise), but she found it difficult to mask her concern. She could not help but remember her earlier conversation with Susan, and she did not like picturing Peter and Edmund working well into the night without even a break for dinner.
Kings or not, they needed to look after themselves.
The meal was lovely, but Helen's attention was not on the expertly prepared food. She kept glancing anxiously around the room and, every time the main door opened, she could not stop her head from snapping up to see if it was one of her sons. Much to her displeasure, as the tea and cakes were carted away (signalling the end of the dinner hour), they still had not appeared.
The girls must have noticed her distracted state, for when the dinner was over Lucy leaned over to tell her that she might have some luck locating Ed in the library.
"He goes there right after meetings, sometimes." She had said with a small smile.
Thankful that the library was easy to locate, and remembering it from her tour that afternoon, Helen soon excused herself and made her way though the great hall, once again trying (and failing) to ignore the whispers and eyes that followed her as she went. She hoped the fascination she seemed to inspire in the court would soon fade; she had never been much of an attention seeker, and did not want to be a topic of discussion.
Respect and admiration were all well and good for her children, but she (in her own estimation) had done nothing deserving of such notice.
Much to her relief, when she finally reached the library and pushed open the large oak door she instantly spotted her youngest son crouched over a massive tome at one of the room's many elegantly carved desks.
He seemed to be the only one in the room and (as he was so wrapped up in his work) he did not look up when she entered. Filled with a sudden determination, Helen marched towards the young man, stopping a few feet in front of him and clearing her throat pointedly.
Edmund finally took notice.
"Mum!" he exclaimed, looking up from the book and placing down the quill he had been using to make notes. "What are you doing here?"
He seemed surprised to see her, and she took note of his dishevelled appearance. His silver crown was resting precariously on a large pile of books to his left, his dark hair was sticking out at odd angles (probably indicating that he had been nervously running his hands through it for the past while), and his blue cloak had been placed haphazardly on the back of his chair.
She knew in an instant that he had had a stressful day.
Edmund was always careless when there were other things on his mind.
"I came to see you." Helen said, pulling up a nearby chair and placing it on the other side of his desk. She had no intention of leaving until they had a good long chat.
Taking her seat, she continued. "Lucy said you might be here, and I have been worrying about you all day. You missed dinner, you know."
The young man sighed, rubbing his tired eyes for a moment before replying. "I know, I know. I suppose Su is annoyed about that. Again. There is just so much to do and…"
"Susan is concerned." The mother cut in. "And so am I. I realize that you must have a lot to worry about, Edmund, but that is no reason to neglect your basic needs." She paused and made her face as stern as possible before continuing. "How can you do your country any good if you forget to look after yourself? You'll waste away into nothing if you allow this sort of behaviour to continue. I cannot sit by and let that happen."
For a moment, his expression was difficult to read, and Helen worried that he would simply brush off her concerns. Getting Edmund to listen as a child had been hard enough (of all of her children, he had been the one who was told off the most for pestering his siblings)- here, having any say over his life might be near impossible. He was a grown man now, she realized as she averted her gaze down to the desk, not to mention a King; he did not technically have to listen to her or do as she asked.
As she glanced up at him again, however, she was pleased to see him looking sheepishly down at the ground. For the briefest of seconds, he looked ten years old again, and she felt as if she had just scolded him for pulling his sister's hair or tracking mud into the kitchen.
"I know, mum." He conceded with a defeated sigh. "I can't keep this up, and I promise I'll work on getting better."
She nodded, very satisfied by this response. Perhaps she hadn't lost her influence after all.
"But-"
He continued, and Helen frowned slightly, realizing that she had not quite won.
"Things are particularly hectic right now," Edmund pointed out. "And it will be extremely difficult to maintain anything resembling a regular schedule for the next few weeks. We have been away for quite some time, and so much work has piled up. Plus we've just got word that…" He hesitated. "Well, never mind that. Point is, there is a lot to do, and I may miss a few meals here and there. I'll do my best though. Really, I will."
A moment of silence passed between them.
Helen was somewhat placated by this answer, and she knew that she could not possibly begin to understand the sorts of duties he was expected to carry out. It was a lot of pressure, she supposed, and she knew that she would have to accept that her children had a very important (and demanding) role in this kingdom.
There would be stresses, she realized, and times of unrest.
It was a new reality that she knew she would have to deal with.
Though that didn't mean that she had to like it…
"Alright." She agreed, nodding. "I suppose I can live with that. I will be watching to make sure that you do try to make at least some time for yourself, though."
Edmund gave her a small smile. "I don't doubt it." He replied.
Placing a large hand on the side of the book he had been looking at when she entered, the young man sighed and snapped the tome shut with a crisp bang.
After a brief pause, he spoke again.
"I am happy you're here, actually." He confessed, looking somewhat sheepish again. "I should be researching but, truth be told, I have had quite enough for now. The council meetings were quite trying, as usual, and I think I deserve a bit of a break. If only for a little while. This book is rubbish anyway, and not terribly useful."
Helen glanced down at the book he was eager to distract himself from.
A Brief History of Calormen, it read, in elaborate gold script.
She could not hold back a scoff as she looked at the massive tome. "Brief" was certainly not the term she would use to describe it, and she wondered if the author had wanted to be ironic with his choice of title.
"That certainly does not look like fun." She noted, looking back up at her youngest son. He was leaning back in his chair now, his eyes closed and a look of blissful relief on his face.
It was a much more pleasing sight to the mother then the frazzled son she had happened upon a few minutes ago.
After observing him for a few moments, she spoke again. "Do you often have to read such things?" She asked, curious to know more about her son's role in the country's affairs.
Edmund gave her a small smile and opened his deep brown eyes. "Thankfully, not too often. I mean, I do come here at least once a day." He replied, glancing around the large library affectionately. "It is my favourite room in the castle. But my reading is usually much more fun. Legal histories of Narnia, assessments of Narnian legislation, case studies from Narnian courts, legal documents from the palace archives…that sort of thing. Like I said, much better then this." He gestured towards the large book as he finished, a look of mild contempt on his face.
Helen found it difficult to hold back a chuckle.
She could tell from his tone that he did, clearly, enjoy his regular reading, though she was amused to hear him describe legal histories and case studies as "fun." Most people, herself included, would find that sort of thing extremely dry. But Edmund, it seemed, saw absolutely no problem with it.
She wondered, as she watched him begin to organize his notes, when her little boy had become such a diligent scholar and legal enthusiast.
Over the past two days, she had made many observations about her now-grown children which seemed to fit. Lucy's love of life, Peter's protectiveness, Susan's compassion; all were predictable extensions of traits she had noticed in childhood.
But Edmund was different.
He had, it seemed, changed more then the others during his time here.
There was some continuity in his personality too, of course. She could still see his stubborn streak, his underlying uncertainty, his deep (if oddly expressed, at times) love for his family…but there were differences as well.
Things that she could not have predicted.
He still liked to joke (particularly with his brother), she had observed, but his banter was no longer mean-spirited, as it often had been when he was a child. She had been distressed, during the past few years in England, to catch her youngest son bullying and teasing his siblings on several occasions, and she had done all she could to correct such tendencies. His time here, it seemed, had done that job for her. All traces of that insecure child had faded away, and there was a seriousness in his demeanour that had not been present before…a strong sense of purpose and duty. This work ethic, too, was not something she had foreseen, nor could she have predicted this fascination with legal matters.
He wasn't called King Edmund the Just for nothing, she supposed.
Her son, apparently, noticed her daze and quickly snapped her out of it.
"Mum, are you okay?" He asked, leaning forward with a look of concern on her face. "Is something wrong?"
She shook her head and smiled reassuringly. "No, nothing is wrong." She said. "I was just thinking."
"About what?" The young king asked, leaning back in his chair again. Despite his tousled hair and slightly wrinkled clothing, she noted (with much pride) for the umpteenth time since their arrival that he had grown into quite a fine young man. The gawky days of his youth were far behind him now and she could not understand why (as Susan had mentioned earlier) he thought himself to be inferior to Peter. The boys were different, to be sure, but equally wonderful in their mother's eyes.
"You." She answered with another warm smile.
He looked surprised, and perplexed, but did not respond. After a short moment of silence, Helen decided to elaborate.
"You've changed quite a bit, you know." The mother noted, her proud eyes locked on her youngest son. "Since you were a child. Which, I suppose, was technically yesterday…" She smirked and shook her head, bemused. "But you know what I mean. I noticed when we were back in England as well, and now I know that it wasn't your time in the country but your time in Narnia which was responsible."
Edmund said nothing for a long while, and Helen was confused to see a frown forming on his face. He glanced out a nearby window, his eyes distant and his mind a million miles way, and the mother could not push back her growing concern as she watched him trapped in his sudden daze. She had not meant to upset him, she thought worriedly, and she wondered what she had said to warrant such a reaction.
Helen waited until, finally, she could take the silence no longer.
"Edmund?" She asked quietly, her eyes still fixed on him. "Are you alright? What is it?"
The young man glanced back towards her with a tight smile; she could easily see through the façade.
"Of course I have changed." He replied, trying to keep his tone light-hearted. "I was a child yesterday, and now I am twenty-five again. And thank Aslan for that, being trapped in my ten year old body was far from fun. It is great to be tall again, and I was so tired of-"
"That is not what I was talking about." Helen interrupted. She could tell that he was trying to brush off her comment, and she was determined not to let that happen. His reaction had made her even more intrigued about the changes she had observed, and she knew that she had to find out more.
He was keeping something from her.
Something important.
"You do look different, of course." She continued. "But I was referring to more important things. I do not know why, but I feel like you have matured and changed, internally, even more then the others. I did not mean to upset you by pointing that out."
She held her breath, awaiting his response. For a moment, she thought he was going to shut down again, his eyes seemed to be getting distant once more. But, much to her relief, he soon spoke.
"Yes, well, we did go though a lot here." He said, looking down and fidgeting with the hilt of his sword.
It was not much of an elaboration, but at least it was something.
Although she was reluctant, fearing that she would upset him further, Helen pressed on, her curiosity getting the better of her.
"I can imagine." She began. "Susan and Lucy have told me a bit about your time here, though I suspect there is still much to know."
Edmund hesitated, leaning back in his chair with a soft sigh and running his hand through his hair. "What did they tell you about me?" He asked, finally looking up to meet her gaze. "About when we first got here?"
Helen thought back to the conversation she had had with Lucy and Susan during their trek up to Cair Paravel yesterday. She hadn't fully absorbed everything they had said, being too shocked and dazed to do so, but she did remember the gist of it and her eyes widened as a sudden thought hit her.
"They said you got lost." She replied slowly, straining to remember Lucy's exact words. "Soon after you all arrived for the first time, you got separated from the others." As the significance of this began to register, Helen paused and gently placed her hand on his arm. It was terrible to think of her little boy, alone and afraid, in this strange world so soon after his arrival. He must have been terrified, she thought as she looked at him sympathetically, it must have been awful…
To her surprise, Edmund jerked away from her touch.
"Don't." He said, with a sudden anger in his voice. "Don't give me your pity. I don't deserve it."
Helen was taken aback.
She could not explain or comprehend his sudden change in tone, though it was evident that this event had more significance then she had originally thought.
She had clearly struck a nerve.
"Edmund, I'm sorry, I don't unders-"
The young man stood up from his spot abruptly, sending his crown clattering onto the floor in his sudden haste. The sound of silver hitting marble echoed in the large room, providing a brief distraction from the suddenly tense conversation.
"Edmund," Helen decided to try again as she slowly rose from her seat to face her son. He had not yet moved from his spot, though she could see the flurry of emotion on his face, and sense his anger from his stiff shoulders and clenched knuckles.
He refused to look her in the eye.
"Edmund, please tell me why you are upset. I don't understand."
The young man continued to look away but, after a few laboured breaths, he replied.
"Maybe I don't want you to understand." He began.
His voice was quieter now, but there was still a note of pain and anger in it that she had never heard before. It was extremely unsettling to the concerned mother.
"Maybe I don't want you to know that your son is a traitor."
Helen froze, his final sentence running through her mind.
A traitor?
She wondered what he could possibly mean by this. From what she had observed and what she had been told during her short time here, that remark made little sense. Edmund was loved and respected by his people, just like her other three children, and he was as strong and secure in his position as the rest. He reigned alongside his siblings, supporting them as they supported him…she had seen nothing to indicate any sort of betrayal.
It could not be true.
Her head snapped up at the sound of his heavy footsteps. For a moment, she feared he was about to flee from the room, but instead he walked slowly over to a nearby window, his back turned to her and his shoulders tense.
She waited for several moments before speaking again, hoping that he would grow calmer and see it fit to explain. He could not say such a thing and simply leave it hanging in such a way; she needed to know what he meant.
"I still don't understand." Helen said softly, taking a few cautious steps towards her son. "What does that mean? Who do you think you betrayed? You got lost, Edmund, it wasn't your fault…"
The young man sighed, his broad shoulders slumping slightly as he did. "I didn't get lost." He explained, his voice calmer but forlorn. "I left. I left Peter, Susan and Lucy and I went to the White Witch. I chose her over my family…I betrayed Narnia, I betrayed Aslan, and I betrayed those who I loved the most."
Edmund paused, then turned abruptly, finally facing her again. The mother could instantly see the pain in her son's face, and she had to resist the urge to pull him into her arms and offer him words of support. He had made it clear that he did not want such comfort, no matter how badly she wanted to offer it.
Despite what he had said, when she looked at him now, standing in the dim light of the library with such heartbreaking sadness in his brown eyes, she did not see a traitor. She saw her little boy…distressed, anguished, and in need of her support.
"When…when I first came to Narnia." He began again, averting his gaze down to the stone floor. "She was the first person I met. She called herself the Queen of Narnia, and offered me food and drink, which I gladly accepted. I had no idea, then, that she was a usurper to the throne who had inflicted Narnia with one hundred years of winter, and I fell under her spell. She tempted me with power and fame, and I wanted it so terribly that I agreed to bring the others to her…"
Edmund trailed off. His voice had begun to shake as he spoke, and Helen could tell that (even after all these years), this was a painful tale for him to tell. A part of her felt that it would be best to tell him to stop, to not relive such painful memories. But she was so entrapped by the story that she could not bring herself to do it. He suddenly seemed willing to share, and she allowed him to continue.
"I was a petty fool." Edmund began again, with a solemn shake of his head. "I was such a jealous child, and the thought of power…of out-shining Peter, of not being second best for once in my life…was so incredibly appealing. When the four of us came back to Narnia together, I tried to think up a way to bring them to the White Witch with me, though I soon realized they would not come. So I went alone- snuck off when they weren't looking, and told her where they could be found."
Helen felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach as he spoke. She knew, of course, that things must have worked out in the end, but the thought of such a scenario still filled her with a terrible sinking feeling. Though she still could not see this noble and intelligent man before her as a true traitor, she was beginning to understand what had led him towards these mistakes, and a sense of guilt was growing inside of her.
She had always known about the rivalry between her two sons though, she now realized, she did not know how deep it had been. Edmund had admired and followed Peter since had had been old enough to walk, and was always frustrated when he could not keep up with the older boy. Over the years, his frustrations had often come out as anger and, although she had told all of her children on several occasions that they were all equally important, Edmund had never seemed to take her words seriously.
Clearly, she had failed to recognize his deep resentment, and correct his misguided self image. He had never been second best in her eyes, and it pained her to think that he had believed otherwise.
Edmund spoke again, snapping the distressed mother away from her thoughts.
"That was when I realized what I had done." He said, finally looking up from the stone floor. "She sent her guards after the others, and locked me in her dungeon. I was cold, and alone, and sickened by what I had done. She had never intended to give me power or privilege; she simply wanted all four of us in her possession, to prevent the prophecy from coming true. I came so close to death, and sometimes…" He paused, hesitating before completing his thought. "Sometimes I wish that had been the end. At least then, I wouldn't have had to witness what was to come next."
Helen brought her hand to her chest, appalled by such a horrible thought. She could not stand the idea of her little boy being so pained and tortured that he saw death as a relief.
He had been so young…much too young to have such a dreadful experience.
If only she could have been there to protect him…
Leaning against the window ledge, his face pained and his eyes miles away, Edmund continued.
"She came down to the dungeons, and decided to take me with her on a ride through the country- to make me witness the results of my betrayal." He began. "I watched as she tortured…as she killed…and I felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do and, as much as it pained me to admit it, I knew that I had contributed to such terror. I began to loose all hope; I had no idea if the others were okay, or even alive, and I was completely helpless, a victim of my own greed and foolishness. But then, they came." He paused, and she could see his deep sadness began to lift. "Aslan sent some of his men to rescue me. I don't remember much, I think I passed out soon after they arrived, but when I awoke I was safely back in Aslan's camp, and the Great Lion Himself was standing next to me. I'm not sure how, but I instantly knew who he was, and could only weep in his presence. I felt so ashamed, so unworthy, but he assumed me that all would soon be well."
The mother gave a small smile as the horrible tale took a more positive turn. It was a relief to know that the Lion had been looking out for her son, even in his darkest hour, and she was glad to know that his suffering had been brought to an end.
"We spoke for a long time, that day." Edmund recalled. "It is a conversation I will never forget. I did not deserve it, but he offered me his forgiveness, and told me I still had a great destiny to fulfil, as a King of Narnia alongside the others."
He paused again, fidgeting with the hilt of his sword once more. "I believed him, I suppose. Though I had my doubts…I still do, really. I recognized my mistakes, and know I would never disrespect those I love in such a way again, but I can never forget what I did, or completely ignore the part of me that is capable of such terrible selfishness. If it hadn't been for Aslan, my betrayal would have inflicted more suffering on Narnia…" He hesitated. "And led to my death."
Helen let out a small gasp and took another step towards her son. She examined the grave expression on his face, trying to make sense of his words.
Such a notion was too terrible for any mother to contemplate.
"Oh Edmund…" She breathed, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
This time, he did not pull away.
"Aslan scarified himself for me, you know." He stated, looking up to meet her gaze for the first time in several minutes. "After my rescue, the Witch demanded that I be given back to her, but Aslan offered himself in my place. I had no idea at the time, but He left the camp that night and allowed Himself to be slaughtered in my stead. Susan and Lucy witnessed it, and thought He was gone, but the witch was unaware that the nature of His sacrifice would allow Him to rise again. I have offered him my thanks for that, every single day, but I know that nothing I do or say will ever be enough to repay such a deed. I owe him everything. He sacrificed himself for a foolish boy, for a traitor, who did not deserve his mercy. It took me a long time to come to terms with what had happened, and I still find myself unable to fully accept it."
Edmund fell silent, finally done his long and painful story, and slumped against the stone cold wall. Tired, worn, and consumed by his memories.
For several moments, Helen could do nothing but stand beside him, her hand still on his arm as she tried to absorb all of what she had been told. Lucy and Susan had mentioned Aslan's death and rebirth, though they had failed to tell her that Edmund had been the reason for such a sacrifice. It was amazing to think that the magnificent creature, whose wisdom and power she had sensed during her brief encounter with him, had given up so much for her son. She could understand why Edmund felt such guilt but, in her view, this failed to encapsulate the full significance of it.
Aslan would not have done such a thing unless Edmund had been worthy, she realized, and there was no doubt in her mind that (despite his mistakes) the Great Lion had foreseen the great man he would become. In her short time here, she had already noticed so many positive changes in her little boy. He was an intelligent and wise King, and (perhaps more importantly) a devoted and caring brother and son. She was convinced that he was deserving of such a rescue, even if he did not believe it himself.
"Edmund, you were only a child." She said quietly, moving her hand from his arm to his cheek, and forcing him to turn towards her. He did not resist and his deep brown eyes met hers. "You made a mistake, as we all do at some point in our lives. Perhaps yours had more consequences then most, but Aslan clearly recognized that you should not be condemned for such a folly. He must have known about the great things you would grow up to achieve, and he must have known the great man you would become. You were not unworthy, Edmund, you deserved a second chance."
Edmund gave her a small smile. "I may have been young." He agreed. "But I do not see that as an adequate excuse. I should not have let my jealousy get the better of me, and I never should have betrayed the others. It is a shame I will always have to live with. I am no great man."
His last sentence was quiet, barely audible, but full of such heart wrenching doubt and pain that the mother could hardly fight back her tears. She found it hard to believe that he still could not see what so many others clearly did…what she did.
He had come so far, he was admired by many- and yet he seemed blind to the praise he very much deserved.
"You may not be able to forget what happened." Helen agreed, her voice soft and tender as she stared up at her son. "But that should not stop you from recognizing your achievements. From what I have observed, and what I have heard from others, your fifteen years here were successful and prosperous. I know you played a large part in that, and I could see the love and respect that your people have for you when they cheered for your return last night. It pains me to see you doubt yourself in such a way, Edmund. I am so proud of you, and I only wish that you could be proud of yourself as well."
There was a long silence after she finished.
Edmund, it seemed, was searching for a response, but the opening and closing of his mouth indicated that he had none. After a moment, he decided to end his struggle for words, and simply nodded and gave her the faintest of smiles.
Satisfied, for the time being, and hoping that her words would truly sink in, she brushed a stray piece of dark hair of his eyes and smiled at the wonderful young man she was proud to call her son.
He had changed in many ways, and she now knew part of the painful reason behind his reform but, no matter what happened, she knew that he would always be her little boy.
Unable to resist any longer, she drew him into a gentle hug.
"I love you, Edmund." She whispered, her emotions finally getting the better of her. "Don't you ever forget that."
She could feel him smile into her shoulder.
"Thanks, Mum." He muttered. "I won't."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
After her long talk with Edmund, Helen had insisted that her youngest son make his way to the kitchens and have the cooks prepare him a small meal. She had meant what she had said; she would not allow her children to neglect themselves on her watch, and making sure they had enough food and rest was her utmost priority. They may have been adults now, but they (clearly) still needed someone to keep them on track. In an odd sort of way, it made her happy to think that she was not completely irrelevant and unnecessary here.
Her three youngest, she thought with satisfaction, were now adequately looked after for the day and her thoughts now turned to her one remaining challenge.
The sun had long ago set in the sky and, after leaving Edmund, Helen had wandered through the castle aimlessly, trying to seek out her eldest son. She had been growing increasingly frustrated, and had been just about ready to give up for the evening (though she vowed to herself that he would really hear it when she finally did locate him the next day) when a centaur had given her the tip she needed.
She had nearly run into the impressive looking creature as she rounded a corner and, after introducing himself as Oreius and telling her that it was a pleasure to make her acquaintance (she had blushed when he had said that it was "A true honour to finally meet the woman who had done such a wonderful job raising the young sovereigns."), he had told her that Peter was nearby in a meeting room down the hall.
She had thanked him before anxiously following his directions and approaching the room he had indicated. Drawing a deep breath and straightening her back in an attempt to look a bit more imposing, she had pushed open the wooden door and entered the chamber, ready to give her son a good scolding.
Many, she had observed, were in awe of the High King, and Helen suspected that he was no longer used to having people question his actions. To her, however, he was still just Peter, and she was determined not to let him forget it.
Much to her disappointment, as the door swung open it revealed that Peter was not alone. There were three others in the room; a young faun, a large raven, and a frazzled looking dwarf. They all looked up her, surprised by her abrupt entrance.
Her confidence and determination quickly faded in front of this larger then anticipated audience, though she was slightly amused by the wide-eyed look of fear which flashed across her son's face. He knew that she was not pleased.
"Mum!" He exclaimed, standing up from his spot. "I didn't expect to see you here. Is something the matter? Did one of the others send you?"
She folded her arms across her chest, still making some attempt to appear stern. "No one sent me." She said, her tone indicating her slight annoyance. "And nothing is the matter…unless, of course, you count the fact that I have been worrying about my son all day and was quite distressed when he failed to show up for dinner."
The young man shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the long wooden table where he and his councillors had been sitting. "Yes, well, err…" He trailed off and looked up at her sheepishly. "Sorry." He muttered, looking more like a child then a High King for a brief moment.
Resisting the temptation to push him further (he was with his subjects, she realized, and she did not want to scold him too terribly in their presence), she gave him a curt nod. "I was hoping to speak with you. When you are done here, perhaps." She replied.
He nodded back. "Of course. We're just about done, you're welcome to wait in here, if you want, it should only be another minute or so."
Wordlessly, Helen sat down in the nearest chair, watching her son as he returned to his spot and began to tie up his business for the evening. Though she would have preferred to find him alone, she had to admit that she was interested to see him in action, dealing with state business and carrying out his duties.
After chancing another nervous glance at her (she smirked internally at this), he turned his attention back to the others, collecting himself once again.
"Right, as I was saying Sallowpad." Peter began, the authority she had witnessed in him last night returning as he spoke, "If you can speak to the diplomats first thing tomorrow, that would be good. We should send the mission out as fast as possible."
The raven had had been addressing nodded. "Of course, it would be my honour, Your Majesty." He replied.
Peter gave the creature a grateful smile.
"And Jarnus," the king began again, turning to the Faun. "Please bring me your report from the armoury as early as you can tomorrow. I have spoken to some of the staff there, and they should have things well organized by now. If you can complete a quick tally of our supplies and bring it to the council tomorrow, that would be a wonderful help to us."
The young faun, who did not look like he was yet out of his teenage years, bowed deeply before giving an excited nod. "I will do my very best, Your Majesty." He assured, nearly quaking with excitement at the thought of his important duty. "I will not let you down."
Peter let out a quiet chuckle and gave the faun a reassuring pat on the back. "I don't doubt it, Jarnus." He replied. "You have already proved your diligence."
The faun beamed at the compliment, and Helen could hardly suppress a smile as she took note of her son's warm and encouraging manner. He may have been the High King, but he clearly treated all of his subjects with genuine respect. She would have expected no less, though she was happy to confirm what she had heard about him for herself.
"Now." Peter began again, standing up from his chair. "I think that is all for tonight. I suggest that you get yourselves something to eat from the kitchens and head off to bed. We will have another long day ahead of us tomorrow, I am afraid, and you will need a good rest. I thank you for all of your hard work and patience today."
There was a scratching of chairs as the others stood up and bid their king good night. Peter accepted their well wishes graciously, and remained standing until all three had left. The moment the door shut, however, he relaxed his confidant stance and sank back into his seat. His eyes slid shut, and he let out a long and burdened sigh.
Helen was surprised to see how quickly his kingly demeanour faded, and she realized that the aura of unwavering strength he had been exhibiting had been a façade…a very convincing façade, that had fooled even her.
Concerned by his show of fatigue, she walked across the room towards him, seating herself on his right side and placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Peter, darling, are you alright?" She asked, cautiously.
After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm alright, Mum." He replied, his voice much less confidant then before. "I just need a few seconds, it has been a terribly long day."
She nodded and waited for him to collect himself, the annoyance she had felt when she had first entered the room quickly diminishing. She was being too hard on him, she realized as she glanced at his tired features, he clearly had a lot to deal with, and it was unfair to expect him to have time to spare during his day. Though, she reminded herself, he would only make matters worse if he failed to look after himself. At the very least, it was her duty to remind him of that.
Before she could bring up that topic, however, the young man spoke.
"How was your first day at Cair Paravel?" He asked, sitting up a bit straighter then before. His initial fatigue seemed to be fading slightly. "Alright, I hope."
She nodded, assuring him that she had been very impressed with the delights the palace had to offer. "It is a wonderful place." She admitted. "And I enjoyed exploring it. But, more important then that, I was very happy to finally spend some time with my children…to get to know them again. Well, three of them at least…" She finished, with a sad smile in his direction.
He looked uncomfortable once again, and this time she felt a gnawing guilt at the sight.
"Sorry I wasn't around." He said, with a small sigh. "There was just so much to do, and I could not get away. Trust me, I'd rather be spending time with you, Lucy, Su and Ed- and I hope that sometime soon we will be able to take a bit of a break together- but unfortunately, duty calls."
The mother nodded. "I know, Peter." She assured him, patting his hand reassuringly. "Please don't feel guilty about it. I admit, I was saddened, and a bit annoyed, when I did not see you around today, and had hoped to spend more time with you, but I am beginning to realize how many things you have to deal with. I am happy to be here with all of you, but I do not want to add to your burdens."
"You'll never be a burden." He replied quickly.
She could see the honesty in his deep blue eyes, and found herself unable to doubt his words.
"Thank you, darling." She said, enjoying the sense of warmth and satisfaction that had filled her with his assurance. Helen knew that all of her children seemed glad to have her there, but she would be lying if she said that all of her initial doubts had simply faded away. Her insecurity sometimes got the better of her, and (although she was the parent and knew she should be the one offering them comfort), their reassurance was never unwelcome.
After revelling in her happiness for another brief moment, Helen glanced at her oldest child thoughtfully, and her smile began to fade as she was struck by a sudden thought.
"I can't even begin to imagine how hard it must have been for you, Peter." She stated, expressing a thought that had been bothering her since her arrival. "Being crowned at such a young age…having to look after your siblings, and your kingdom. That is too much responsibility, even now. You are still so young."
The more Helen thought about it, the more she hated that she had not been there from the beginning. He should not have had to deal with so much…she should have been there…she should have done her motherly duty and eased his burdens.
Though, she realized, she had had no choice in the matter and there was little she could do to change things now.
As she looked up again, he turned his gaze away from her for a moment, and she was struck (once more) by how youthful he still looked. He may have been fully grown, and larger then she, but Helen could still see her little boy in his handsome features.
He had gown up too fast.
Missed out on a proper childhood.
But the glimmer of his former, carefree self was ever present.
Despite all he had been though, he was still her Peter.
He always would be.
The young man gave her a reassuring smile and tried to shrug off her concerns. "I'm twenty-nine now, Mum." He reminded her. "I am a grown man, and I can handle it. It may be difficult, at times, but I have no choice. It is my duty, and I have always done my best to fulfil my promises to my people..." He paused "…and to you."
Helen's eyes widened in surprise.
His promise to her?
She could not recall what he was referring to, as she quickly confessed.
"To me?" She asked. "What do you mean?"
Peter smiled again, his eyes suddenly more distant then before. "Do you not remember what you said to me at the train station? The day we left for the country?" He asked. "It was seven months ago for you, and nearly sixteen years ago for me, but I still remember as if it was yesterday."
Helen hesitated, straining to remember that dreadful day. It had been horrible, sending them away like that, not knowing if she would ever see them again, and (for the sake of her own sanity) she tried not to dwell on it too often. As she forced herself to remember it, however, the scene came rushing back.
"I told you to look after the others." She recalled, realization dawning. "And you swore that you would."
He nodded, indicating that this had been the promise he had been referring to.
It had seemed like the natural thing to say to her eldest child at the time, she mused, though she had not expected him to take the request so seriously for so many years. Clearly, her final words to him that day had had a bigger impact then she had ever anticipated.
Though, she supposed, Peter had always had a strong sense of duty, and had always been protective of his brother and sisters, even at a young age. In some ways, his deep commitment to this particular promise was no surprise.
Touched that her words had meant to much to him, even after everything he had been through, Helen could not suppress a smile. "Oh Peter." She began warmly. "You have done such a wonderful job. I couldn't be prouder." The woman paused for a moment before continuing. "Though I do hope that you did not disregard yourself in the process. When I asked you to look after the others, I did not mean that you should do so at your own expense. You are just as important, you know, and I wanted all of my children to be safe and happy."
She could not decipher his expression as she spoke, and for a moment she worried that she had upset him with her words. Much to her relief, however, he soon indicated otherwise.
"Thanks." He said, his voice much softer and full of more emotion then before. "I…I…" He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "I always tried, so hard, but I sometimes felt like I was letting you down. I did my best to protect them, but it was nearly impossible at times. Especially with Ed." He admitted, a note of sadness in his voice. "I failed him, and you, terribly when we first arrived. And, stubborn as he is, I have continually failed to shield him from the horrors of battle. For that, I am sorry."
She could sense the genuine regret in his voice, and it pained her to think that he mulled over these perceived failures. In her view, he had done a wonderful job, keeping the family safe and together, and protecting them the best he could. He had gone above and beyond her expectations, though she wondered if she could ever convince him of this.
Despite the air of confidence and ease he easily portrayed, Peter (it appeared) had just as many doubts as anyone. It was not his lack of doubt that made him a strong King, but rather his ability to mask such uncertainties whenever necessary.
Reaching towards him, Helen gently removed the gold crown form her sons head and placed it beside him on the table. He seemed taken aback by this gesture (she suspected that few, if any, had ever removed the High Kings crown), but she refused to balk under his gaze.
He needed to be free of his burdens, if only for a moment.
He needed to simply be Peter.
"Perhaps I cannot convince you." Helen began again, her expression serious. "But please believe me when I say that you have not let me down. I know that I have not been here for long, but I have already observed so many positive things, and I know what a central role you have played in keeping this family, and this kingdom, together." She paused, her mind drifting back to her conversation with her other son. "I know what happened to Edmund." She continued. "But none of that was your fault. He doesn't blame you, and neither do I. You were both children and, in the end at least, everything worked out as it should. You can't shield them from everything, Peter, I never asked that of you, and I never would."
There was a brief pause before the young man nodded, letting out another sigh. "I suppose." He muttered, running large a hand through his dark blonde hair.
"You're much too hard on yourself, darling." Helen chided tenderly. "It is apparent, from my perspective, that you are a wonderful King, and an even better brother. Please try to remember that, at least sometimes."
He chuckled softly, and she was happy to see a flicker of happiness cross his face. "I'll try." He agreed, smiling down at her. "Though you better be careful that these sorts of conversations don't start going to my head."
Helen smiled back. "I will keep you in line, I promise." She replied. "That is a mother's duty, after all."
The young king nodded, this time letting out a loud yawn as he finished.
His fatigue was becoming increasingly apparent, and the mother knew that she could no longer justify keeping him here. As he had said, it had been a very long day and he clearly needed some rest. There would, she was sure, be more time to talk in the near future. With luck, state business would calm down once the monarchs got resettled.
"I think you need to start taking your own advice." She began, recalling what he had said to his men several minutes ago. "I suggest you get some food from the kitchens and then get some rest. I am sure you have another busy day ahead."
Peter's smile faded quickly. "I do indeed." He agreed, glancing forlornly around the meeting chamber. "Unfortunately, I doubt I will have much free time tomorrow either. There are certain pressing matters that must be dealt with." He seemed to want to say more, and Helen was tempted to ask him what these matters were, but she knew that his rest was more important at the moment.
"Then I think it is best if we are both off, then." Helen stated.
Silently, mother and son both rose from their seats and she gestured for him to come forward. He complied and, putting a hand on his shoulder, she pulled him towards her and placed a gentle kiss atop his head.
"Goodnight, Peter." She said, releasing him. "I love you."
"Goodnight, Mum. I love you too." He replied, his smile wider then before. "And I am glad we got to talk, if only for a little while."
Nodding, she watched as he picked up his crown from the table and placed it back on his head. He turned to leave the room, his shoulders straight and his stride strong and sure; once again, he was every inch the High King.
It was a sight that filled her with an odd mixture of sadness and pride. He bore it well, but a part of her still wished that he didn't have to…
It was both a blessing and a burden.
As he reached for the doorknob, Helen could not prevent herself from expressing one final thought before he left her for the night.
"You're not alone, Peter." She said softly, her eyes fixed on her noble son. "You don't have to protect everyone else by yourself. Not anymore."
He froze and, after a long pause, he turned to face her once more.
"Thanks." He replied, looking more vulnerable and worn then he had a second before. "That helps. More then you know."
And with that, he was gone, leaving the mother to mull over her long (and often emotional) day in the dark and silent meeting room.
Although she was pleased that she had managed to spend at least some time reconnecting with each of her children, she knew that she had only begun to scratch the surface. There was still so much to know, so much to discover, and she wondered (considering how much time she had missed) if she could ever know them as completely as she once had.
She supposed that it would be near impossible to fill in every missing day (no matter how much she wanted to), but she held out hope that the most important moments- the ones that had shaped the wonderful men and women that they had become- would one day be shared.
That, she believed, was a more realistic ambition.
Sighing, she starred at the door where her eldest son had just stood, replaying the four conversations in her mind.
Lucy's wisdom…Susan's compassion…Edmund's intelligence…Peter's sense of duty...
She was unbelievably proud of all of them, though the darker aspects of her day also weighed heavily on her mind. Lucy had revealed the inexplicable unhappiness they had all felt before their departure, Susan had told her that none had settled down or found love. Edmund had shown his deep sense of guilt, and Peter had exhibited the burdens associated with their positions.
To outside observers, they may have seemed like confidant and content monarchs, ruling their kingdom with ease and wisdom. As she had quickly discovered, however, there was much more that lurked beneath the surface.
Uncertainty.
Insecurity.
Doubt.
They could not, she realized, afford to reveal such things to many people. They had to appear strong and steady, and to represent their kingdom and inspire the love and respect of their subjects. They had done a fantastic job of it last night, as they stood proudly and received their crowns, she had almost believed in their infallibility herself…though today she had seen a different side of things.
A side that few ever saw.
She wondered who they had confided in, aside from each other, before her arrival and noted that (aside from, possibly, Mr. Tumnus) none seemed close enough to the young monarchs to truly see their struggles.
Maybe Lucy was right. Maybe they really did need her here, to comfort them in moments of weakness when no one else could.
Glancing up at the door again and thinking back to her conversation with Peter, Helen gave a sad smile.
She could sense, from his words, that something was coming.
Something big.
Something that was causing him, and the others, much distress.
Helen could not even begin to guess what it was, or how bad it would be, but she promised herself that she would do everything she could to help them through it.
It was, after all, a mother's duty to be there for her children, no matter what.
They had been called back here for a reason.
And so had she.
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A/N Sorry for the long wait! Intended to write sooner, but caught a lovely flu. Hope the longer then normal chapter made up for it. This took me AGES, but I hope it was worth it. Loved writing the Edmund bit, though I apologize if it dragged on too much. I felt like, as the one who changed the most, Helen would need more time to reconnect with him. Hope it wasn't too mushy, though this is one of those touchy feely emotional type stories.
PLEASE REVIEW!
The action should pick up a bit more soon, something IS coming, if you want it!
Some replies:
FyreFlyte- Yes, Helen should see her boys in action- in the next chapter, if all goes to plan. Thanks for the review!
RixxiSpooks- Yeah, totally picturing older Will and Skandar. I imagine they will both be extremely adorable at 24 and 28 (not that they aren't now, of course). I admit, I have a terrible infatuation- especially with Will (I feel a bit too odd ogling Skandar who is much too young for me. Will is, at least my age. Hurrah!) Thanks for the review, and for your AMAZING review of my other story- I will get back to it, eventually, I have the entire thing outlined. Just distracted by this right now.
Anime Princess- I don't want to reveal how long they will stay, but I can say that Helen will see some fighting. Or at least, practice fighting. Thanks again!
Thanks to everyone for the lovely reviews! They keep me writing!
