He had left two days ago. And now, as he stood before castle Cair Paravel, Mathias could hear his heart pounding in his chest. It was a grand site; tall towers, white-washed stone set ablaze in the glower of the sun; huge, black iron gates, each support capped in a foreboding spike; long, stained-glass windows staring down at him; and those doors, those two enormous portals that swallowed him at the very sight. In a surge of courage, he stepped through the gates and into the courtyard. There were animals and half-animal-half-man things walking all over the place. And they were talking?! Who had ever heard of a talking animal?
The front doors were open. In the doorway stood a half man half goat thing talking with an actual man. The man was tall and broad-shouldered with slightly unkempt sandy brown hair and a short beard. Atop his head was a simple gold crown and, even though Mathias had not spoken to him yet, he could tell from the man's smile that he possessed a rare lighthearted self-confidence. As he drew closer, the nobleman shook the half-and-half's hand. Mathias could not help but to stare at the thing as it walked past him.
"I take it you have never seen a faun before," said the man.
"Yes, er, no. No, sir," Mathias stuttered. "Actually, I've never been in Narnia before. Oh." He gave a hasty bow as the king laughed heartily.
"Are you sure? You seem vaguely familiar."
"Positive, sir."
"What's your name, boy?"
"Mathias. If you don't mind my asking, who are you?"
"Peter," he said with another laugh. "Well, King Peter, but I usually don't bother with formalities." Mathias liked this king.
"I need to see your brother, King Edmund?" He would not have known the two were brothers if not for eavesdropping in the market he went through on his way here.
Peter's eyes narrowed as he examined the boy. Curly black hair, tanned skin, a slightly crooked smile. Nothing special about him. Why on earth did he look so familiar?
"Of course," he said more to himself than the boy. He led Mathias through the foyer and to the door leading into the library. "Now, I must warn you. My brother has had a…bad day, to say the least. So good luck," he opened the door. "Edmund, you have a visitor."
"Then send them in."
Mathias walked in and closed the door. The first thing he noticed was the size of the monstrous room, each shelf housed with books, hundreds upon thousands of books. Edmund was lying on a couch, stretched out on his back with one arm under his head. The other had a band of cloth around his bicep where blood had faintly seeped through the bandage. His eyes were dark and deep and frown lines were evident on his youthful, fair face. He had a defined goatee and stubble lining the rest of his jaw. His hair was black and curly and came about half an inch below his earlobe. Instead of on his head, his crown sat on a near by coffee table. Lying like that, he reminded Mathias of a lazy house-cat.
"Who are you?" Edmund asked, sitting up and scrutinizing the boy.
"I am Mathias of—"
"Telmar," Edmund cut him off. "You're Elaina's son." He looked at the boy's eyes closely. Gray. "You have her eyes." He stared at him for a moment, then stood, turned away, and walked slowly to a window. "Tell me, how is she?"
"Fine, sir."
"Has your beast of a father quit beating her?"
"I, um, I'm not—"
"Pardon my hostility," he stopped and turned to face him. "But what do you want? We have nothing to talk of, unless your father has suddenly decided to have me assassinated by his juvenile son." He continued walking.
Awkward silence filled the air. All of Mathias' courage had left him when Edmund stood up. He was also tall and broad shouldered like his brother. And Mathias felt small and weak. Everything he had wanted to ask this man had left with his valor. Instead of any planned questions he might have had, what came out was,
"Did you love my mother?"
"Now what business is that of your's?" Edmund's eyes narrowed for a moment as he scrutinized the boy.
"I, uh," Matthias struggled to find the words. "I was...just wondering. Please, sir."
"How old are you, boy?"
"Thirteen, sir."
"Hmm," he grunted. "I suppose 'why do you care' is a more appropriate question."
"Because she's my mother and I believe that I have a right to know."
Edmund laughed bitterly for a moment.
"You're as determined as your mother."
"Please, sir, I just want to know."
He stopped, looked out the window, looked down, then out the window again.
"Yes," he answered after a moment, his face softening. A dreamy look passed over his eyes. "More than anything." Almost a whisper. "But that's all water under the bridge or over the dam or however you like it." He gave him a half hearted smirk. The grandfather clock chimed seven o'clock in the evening. "Aslan's mane," Mathias assumed that was some kind of curse or something. "I have to be somewhere. Would you excuse me?" He walked past Mathias and opened the door, motioning for the boy to follow him. Edmund walked up to a faun, saying, "Clennan, this is Mathias. Mathias, Clennan. Well, now that you're acquainted, Clennan, would you please find this boy a suitable room, give him anything he needs."
"Yes, sire. Come on."