Once again, the idea of a chapel in Cair Paravel is borrowed (with permission) from Almyra's wonderful story 'For Ever Kneel'd.'

Also, I've taken some liberties with Narnia's geography and placed Galma further away than a day's sail.

Tears Like Rain

I didn't have as much time as I would have liked to help Lucy set up the chapel. From the start Peter and I had attended more classes than our sisters and up until now that never bothered me. Still, I spent what time there I could, helping to clean out the spiders and dust and searching high and low for just the right furnishings. The one candelabrum I helped pack up and ship to the Blue River Smithy. It went accompanied by several barrels of wine, a bar of gold for gilding, and a very scathing letter. I made certain to stress to Bricket that I knew several competent smiths in the area if the challenge of reproducing a candlestick was too great for him, a sure-fire way to get a second candelabrum in record time.

The subject of tapestries for the chapel became a trying one almost instantly. Susan suggested we might have new tapestries made depicting our arrival and overthrow of the White Witch and called on the Cair's legion of weavers. They readily, happily agreed to make new hangings, estimating the whole project would take a little over two years if they all applied themselves. It sounded very nice, but the truth was before they could begin to weave they needed a painting to work off and that meant sketches and posing and standing still for hours on end. Choosing a scene, Lucy decided my defining moment was when I broke Jadis' wand. I suppose it was, but I really didn't feel like being reminded of the event while the sun was shining. My nightly re-enactment was quite sufficient to keep the episode in mind.

That made no difference to the artists that followed my every move from the moment I opened my bedroom door to the moment I went to sleep. For days two Nymphs and a Faun trailed behind me making sketches. Every time I looked up, there they were, pencils scratching. They were particularly excited when I was on the training ground and one day I went into the armory and found my armor was gone. After a few minutes of panic I discovered my artistic shadows had 'borrowed' it so the weavers could match the colors. Later that same day I found myself stuffed back into said armor, holding Shafelm in a sufficiently dramatic and heroic pose. My sisters were there to watch and it wasn't Susan stern look, but the possibility of extinguishing the delight in Lucy's eyes that kept me from losing my cool. An angry Susan I could deal with, but a sad Lucy was something I never wanted to cause again. For her, I endured and held the blade high over an imagined wand in a reconstruction where the only similarity to the actual event was the presence of me and my sword.

"If you keep making that face, Edmund, that's what they're going to paint," Susan admonished as one of the artists re-arranged my feet. Again.

I had seen some of the tapestries produced here at the Cair and they were astonishingly detailed. Indeed, many of them looked like paintings, so she did have a point.

"It'll be accurate, at least!" I muttered. I didn't want to admit that I felt ridiculous standing like this.

At the end of a few days, though, the artists had their sketches and it was Susan's turn to be harassed. She eventually ended up holding her bow drawn for so long that she pulled a muscle in her shoulder. Having had more than my fair share of pulled muscles, I refrained from gloating and even managed to drum up some sympathy for her.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

I was feeling supremely unwell the day Susan strained her shoulder. I wasn't sure what it was that bothered me. A little bit of everything, I suppose, but mostly a sense of absolute and overwhelming fatigue. Nonetheless, I sat upon my throne as Mr. Tumnus called out the day's business. It was all minor, internal stuff, and to my relief we dealt with everything quickly. We were about to withdraw when a last-minute addition to the agenda was added. Moments later, a shimmering black Cormorant was announced. He waddled in on his short legs with his wings spread for balance. With a little trill he bowed to us each, bobbing his head as he turned his body. I was pleased to note he bowed to Peter's empty throne with as much respect as he bowed to the occupied ones.

"Greetings, good cousin," said Lucy. I didn't need to look to know she was smiling at the Bird. Her voice betrayed her. "Welcome to Cair Paravel. What is your name and your business?"

"Astrad is my name, good my queen. I am in the employ of wise Duke Banet of Galma. He bids me send warmest greetings to Your Majesties and hopes that you are blooming. He has dispatched the ship Gloriosa for Narnia with the promised tutors in nautical craft. The captain of the Gloriosa, Lord Ilano, expects to make landfall here at Cair Paravel tomorrow. After delivering the tutors, he begs leave to re-supply his ship for the homeward journey, which he must make immediately, weather permitting."

Lucy smiled. "The Gloriosa and her crew will be welcome. We'll feast the crew tomorrow and we'll be sure the captain has all the supplies he needs for his return."

With a low bow the Cormorant thanked her. He bobbed his head politely to us each again before departing. Susan and Lucy were smiling in anticipation. If I remembered correctly, Susan had found Ilano handsome when he had brought the Galman ambassadors here for the anniversary celebration. I must have looked as awful as I felt because when Susan looked over at me, her smile faded and she very quickly ended the session. I stood up and felt myself go pale.

"Ed?" whispered Susan, worried.

"Walk with me," I said with a wane smile, and she knew I needed help badly.

Lucy sent a Cat ahead and Silvo and Martil met us on the long stairs leading up to our private quarters. The two Fauns quickly stationed themselves on either side of me and helped me up the stairs. The next thing I knew for certain was I was on Peter's bed and Lucy was looking very frightened. For her sake I smiled slightly.

"Don't worry, Lu," I murmured. "M'just tired s'all."

Well, that and faint and hungry and feeling as if I didn't have the strength to move ever again. Susan helped Martil pull a blanket over me and even that seemed enough to pin me in place. My sisters each kissed my cheek and I heard Susan tell the valets to stay with me. Then I slipped into darkness.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I dreamt I was walking through a winter forest. There was hardly a leaf on a tree. Swamp maples and tulip trees, elders and beeches, sweet pepper and witch hazel, all stripped bare like skeletons. Dusk was nearing and it was pouring rain. It had been raining for days, for the thick layer of loam beneath the fallen leaves was spongy and wet. I could smell rotting leaves and the stink of churned mud. Except for the rain, there was no sound.

No, wait. I heard a faint sound like a gasp, a gulping, pained sound. In my dream I turned toward the noise. As I did I saw indistinct tracks in the mud and leaves. I followed them, for they lead in the direction of the gasp. I was watching the ground when I noticed a bloodshot pool of water and I saw the crudely butchered carcass of a deer. And there, a few yards away -

Peter.

He sat on a fallen tree, his back to me and bent low, his hands hanging limply between his knees. He was filthy and ragged and unkempt and absolutely Magnificent.

Then I realized he was crying.

Not hard, not as though some terrible calamity had befallen him. His face was too calm for that. He was crying for release. I had seen him do this before, when he was emotionally overwhelmed or after long periods of pressure. Things built up and when he couldn't bear it any longer, he would take himself off in a corner and quietly vent.

Oh, Peter. How many times had you wept since you left? I looked up at the gray sky and the dripping trees and it seemed as if the whole world was crying with him. Perhaps it was.

In that moment I would have given anything, even my life, to be able to reach out to him. To comfort him. So instead I knelt down in the rain that never touched me and the leaves that didn't rustle at my passing and watched as his tears were exhausted and he was left drained and content.

I smiled sadly as he drew a deep breath and slowly released it. There was a serenity about him now and not for the first time I envied him his ability to express his emotions with such dignity. He sniffed and wiped his face with a red, chapped hand, then slowly rose. He twinged in pain as he straightened, then bent and picked up his bow and a parcel wrapped in oilcloth which I suspected was his dinner. Never one to carry an extra ounce of fat on his body, he was thin as a lathe. But when he stood tall it was as if his crown was on his head and he was stepping into the throne room, every inch a King of Narnia.

I watched him limp off into the fading twilight, loneliness and longing and pride vying for supremacy in my heart.

This was my brother and my High King.

Pride won.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I was snatched out of sleep by the ghost of a crystal wand ripping straight through my body.

For the first time I was taken completely unaware and I screamed in agony. There were voices around me, gentle hands upon me. I could sense the anxiety and alarm at tha animal shriek that escaped my throat.

"Lucy! Quickly!"

Sweetness on my tongue. Trauma to my body was halted. Reversed. Healed.

I couldn't make the same claim for my mind and spirit. Someone was holding me closely. Lucy. I had frightened her badly. She certainly wasn't alone in that respect. Gasping, trembling, I lay in her arms, helpless to stop the tears. Too much. The pain and shock were too much for me and I rested my head against my little sister and, like Peter had in my dream, I just let myself cry until there was nothing left of my tears.

"Come, Sire," Martil said softly. I let myself be moved. The Fauns hastily pulled off my soiled clothes and wiped the blood from my body. Then they guided me over to my own clean bed. I was barely conscious of Aslan and Susan as I lay down again. The bed dipped as Susan climbed in and a minute later Lucy joined us. I was asleep almost instantly, glad that they were close. I could not go on like this.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

I awoke early in the morn to the weight of Lucy on my arm and Susan's hair in my mouth. I spit out the hair and looked around. My sisters were on either side of me, soundly asleep, all of us sharing the same down pillow. I sensed movement, then a faint glow like moonlight as Aslan approached the bed. He looked at me with worried eyes.

"Aslan," I whispered so as not to wake the girls, "what's happening to me? It's getting worse."

"As you grow weaker, the enchantment grows stronger," he whispered back. "The White Witch's blood in you is fighting to fulfill the deathless spell."

"Will the cordial stop working?"

"No, my child. Both forms of magic cannot help but work. The cordial, though, was not made to combat Deepest Magic. Not on such a scale as this, and hence your pain."

I stared at him. Somehow I had guessed all this, but it was awful to hear out loud. "Aslan, I don't know how much longer I can bear this."

"For the sake of your brother and sisters, for Narnia, for me, you must endure, my child."

"I'm trying," I said, my voice cracking with the emotion I was fighting to suppress.

He laid his paw across Lucy to touch my face. "I know. I am here for you, Edmund."

I nodded tearfully.

"Go back to sleep," he ordered gently. "Rest. Save yourself for the coming trials. Your brother is on his way home. He will not fail you."

Of that I had no doubt and his words gave me more comfort than I could express. "Aslan?"

He turned back to me expectantly.

"Please don't let me sleep through midnight again. I'd rather face it with my eyes open."

He nodded his great head. "I give you my word."