Heya people! So sorry it took me this long to update! I hope you will forgive me and read on! :)

Chapter 18

The buglers trumpet as they stride in, Susan and Lucy on one side of Aslan, Edmund and Peter on the other. They walk slowly, all stately and composed, every inch of them royalty. You'd never guess that, twenty minutes ago, they were all more frantic than a tween girl before her first date.

From where I stand by the dais, I grin and covertly wipe a tear with the sleeve of my gown. Or, I try to be covert anyway. But Tarrodour must have noticed because I feel something tickling my arm, and when I look down, he's handing me a handkerchief and staring straight ahead with a smirk on his face.

So I'm really proud of them. It's a touching moment, okay?

I quickly dab my eyes, and when I look up again, my friends have reached the Arch of Centaurs, and each of the horse-men graciously lifts their sword so Aslan and the soon-to-be kings and queens can pass under without getting their heads chopped off.

Kind of them, yeah?

A couple more steps, and the five of them stop at the dais, only a few feet from where I stand. My four friends look straight up at their four thrones, and I can see it on their faces that they finally know, they finally understand.

This is what we were meant for.

Edmund's eyes jump to me, and I drop one of mine in a slow wink. He grins back. A few days have passed since my kissing him, and we haven't mentioned it, to each other or anyone else. We're friends–special friends–and that's how we'll stay.

For now.

Stepping up the stairs–their robes swishing around their feet, so it's almost like they're gliding–the four of them approach the thrones. Carefully, they turn, one, two, three, just like we rehearsed, to face the crowd. The confidence definitely stays on their faces, but it's hidden just a little bit behind these ginormous grins. Even though my friends aren't looking at me, I beam back up at them. Their being young doesn't mean they won't be good rulers.

After all, I'm here to make sure of that.

Without introduction–then again, He probably doesn't need one–Aslan begins: "To the glistening Eastern Sea," He sweeps His mane towards the youngest Pevensie, "I give you, Queen Lucy the Valiant."

All eyes turn to my dear little friend, as Mr. Tumnus, wearing a new green scarf, and the Beavers, carrying the crowns, approach her. I watch Lucy's eyes light up when she sees Tumnus, and I look over at Tarrodour as he discreetly hands me another handkerchief.

Fauns are fantastic, I think, as I quietly blow my nose.

Anywho.

Mr. Tumnus lifts a silver tiara of intertwined flowers, walks over to the curtsying Lucy, and carefully places it on her adorable brown curls. For a second, the two of them share the special grin of the bestest of friends, and then it's on to Edmund.

My sorta-kinda-but-not-really-boyfriend kneels, looking quite fine in his blue-silver tunic, light silver cloak, and white-silver breeches, as Mr. Tumnus lays another crown of–you guessed it–silver on top of his hair. Ed's crown is pointed, kinda like a medieval king's, and it has these cute little leaves engraved in the tips. As Ed stands, still smiling, Aslan says, "To the great Western Wood, I give you, King Edmund the Just."

He and I glance at each other, and I for one am grinning wider than I ever have. Just. Noble. Righteous. So maybe he wasn't all those things when he first came to Narnia, but he is now for sure. And now's all that matters.

"To the radiant Southern Sun," Aslan continues as Mr. Tumnus puts a golden crown of vines and stars on Susan's head. "I give you, Queen Susan the Gentle."

Until she's got a bow and arrow in her hands, I think but don't say. Though I'll definitely joke about it with the Pevensies later.

"And to the clear Northern Sky, I give you, King Peter the Magnificent." And I gotta stay, as Mr. Tumnus lays the golden crown etched with leaves and set with rubies on top of Peter's blond hair, our boy certainly does look magnificent.

All four of them slide back into their thrones, as Mr. Tumnus and the Beavers bow out of the way (literally), and Aslan turns to face the new royals. "Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the Heavens."

Then the Great Lion turns back to the crowd, and starts the chant we all take up, shouting, "Long live King Peter! Long live King Edmund! Long live Queen Susan! Long live Queen Lucy!"

I'm pretty sure I scream louder than anyone.

After the coronation, we have a huge banquet, complete with every kind of food you could possibly imagine: chicken, ham, turkey, roast beef, venison, pheasant (I didn't even know that was a real thing till I asked Tarrodour); soft breads and fluffy rolls; thick, delicious stews and soups; pies, cakes, and pastries covered in sweetest softest cream you've ever tasted and drizzled with chocolate and caramel sauces. As if all of that wasn't enough to stuff us for years, in the middle of the food table, sits a huge roast pig with an apple stuck in its mouth.

My mouth is watering before I take two steps into the room.

The five of us get to sit at the special head table–because, you know, we're awesome like that–and we eat and eat and eat until we can't eat anymore. Then we keep right on eating anyway, because we're royal (there are anyway, and I'm close enough), the Witch is dead, and for the first time in a long time, I think everyone in this room is completely, totally happy. Joking, laughing, eating, the Narnians surround us, just plain loving today as much as we are.

Ed and I sit next to each other, and once, when everybody but us is talking to everybody else, our eyes meet. I grin, wink, then reach down real quick to squeeze his hand under the table. He looks uber shocked at first, but then he smiles, just a tiny crinkle at the corner of his lips, and squeezes back.

After the meal, we dance! My first pairing is with Peter, since he's High King, and I'm second–or technically fifth–in all of Narnia. Wow, it sounds like a crazy big deal when you say it like that. But anyway, I'm with him first because etiquette, protocol, and all that great stuff. "I've never danced like this before," I warn him as the music starts.

Peter grins. "Me neither."

We dance and skip and prance around, copying the others as best as we can, almost definitely making complete idiots of ourselves. But by the time the song's over, we're breathless and laughing, and it doesn't even matter.

After a couple rounds of that, we're past the formal stuff, so the music just plays, freeing us to dance however and with whomever we like. My choice? I collapse onto a bench with Tarrodour, watching as my four Pevensies spin each other around way past the point when I'd've already puked. Tarry and I talk and laugh as we watch the others and–to be honest–I'd be happy to stay here all night. But the second I get my energy back, Lucy drags me back out on the floor, determined "not to let me miss any of the fun." So, by command of my queen, I dance with Tarrodour, Mr. Tumnus, and a whirlwind of other people I could never in the Doctor's lifetime keep track of. It's all a blast, but after hours of feet-pounding exercise, my legs feel about as strong as a dollop of whip cream, and I'm so exhausted I'm not positive my feet are touching the floor as I walk.

Somehow, I make it back to my seat, and pour myself a little Nectar, a Narnian drink. Hopefully, there's some caffeine in it.

Whoa. Maybe not caffeine exactly, but it's definitely got a little something something. Seconds after my first sip, I'm fully awake again, practically seeing the room in high-def, and I realize Edmund's sitting next to me. But since when? Did he carry me over here? Maybe that's why I couldn't quite feel the ground... I try to think back, but seriously? I have no idea.

For a few minutes, the two of us just sit beside each other, smiling softly, watching the others as they dance with apparently endless energy. Then Edmund clears his throat, breaking our silence. "That day..." he begins. "That morning after the battle."

I nod slowly. I'm not gonna fake that I don't know what he's talking about, but I'm also not gonna fake that his mentioning it doesn't have me a little, well, concerned. I mean, we haven't talked about our... "moment" or whatever at all, and I didn't think we were going to. Everything just seems so... so right between us that I didn't think it was necessary.

Maybe Edmund doesn't feel the same.

"Yeah," I finally say. "What about it?"

"Well, I..., uh, Well, I think I'm a bit young to... you know, have a..."

"A steady girl?" I say, dredging up the oldest word for "girlfriend" I can think of.

He nods, blushing a little.

"Well," I say slowly. "I'm a bit young to have a steady boy."

"Really?"

I laugh. "I'm only a year older than you, Eddy."

"Oh. Yeah."

I roll my eyes, then shrug, turning serious. "I really care about you, Ed–and Lucy and Susan and Peter, too. But I think we should leave things like they are for now. You know, just kinda... see what happens with our relationship." I give him the slightest of smiles. "Yeah?"

He nods again, grinning. "Yeah."

I grin back, then lean over and peck him on the cheek, super quick to make sure no one sees. Even though they probably don't see my Flash-fast kiss, there's no way anybody could miss Eddy's blush. "But you just said–"

"I know what I said, Ed, but I'll still steal a kiss from time to time. And... I wouldn't mind if you did, too."

He still looks a bit nervous, but he does chuckle. "Okay."

"And so, King Edmund of the Great Western Wood"–I stand and hold out my hand–"may I have this dance?"

He frowns. "Isn't the boy supposed to ask that?"

I grab his hand, pulling him up beside me. "Under most circumstances, yes." I smile like we're sharing a special secret. "But this isn't really most circumstances."

He grins back at me, and I can't help giggling as we spin out to join the others on the dancefloor.

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