Susan goes down to the beach at noon, her shadow small beneath her feet. Alone, she almost feels as though she is out for a walk on the warm sand and nothing more, the familiar rasp of sea-grass against her ankles, slipping a little with each step in the sand.
But she is not alone: her feet take her to the water's edge where four sailors stand, their small boat tied to a rock on the shore. They look swarthy and unpleasant, and Susan can't help but feel fear as she remembers Tumnus' warning: You will be alone with Terebinthian men. You will be surrendering your control to the rank and file of a foreign country. You may retain your dignity as a woman, since they may not mean you harm and if they do you can defend yourself, but your dignity as a Queen?
They look up as she nears. Two men walk toward her, and she keeps her expression icy.
"Alone and unarmed?" the second says.
"Alone, at least," says the first. "That's good, good for us." He leers. Susan says nothing.
"Come on, then," he says, and grabs her upper arm. She wrenches away and he laughs, surprised, and seizes it harder still.
Suddenly the man close behind him screams and drops, two arrows sprouting in his chest.
The sailor grabbing her soldier turns; Susan takes her opportunity and knees him in the groin. He falls with a grunt, and as she steps away an arrow sticks in his back.
Thank you, Aslan, for Tumnus' foresight, Susan thinks to herself. And thank you for my archers. The sailor by the boat is running toward her, shield in front of him. He doesn't have his sword drawn, and Susan is grateful for his mistake. She draws her dagger and darts to his right. As she reaches him he jerks the shield sideways, the edge of it splitting her lip and cutting her gums. She yells in pain, but doesn't falter as she ducks to shove the knife beneath his ribs, twisting viciously.
Shuddering and holding up her sleeve to her bleeding mouth, Susan gives the men's struggling forms a wide berth. She climbs in the boat, unties the rope, and starts to row. She paces herself. It wouldn't do to arrive out of breath.
-
"I have come to negotiate the return of my sister," Susan calls as she nears the Terebinthian flagship. Someone throws her a rope and she pulls herself closer to the side, where a rope ladder is dangling there for her. She ties the rope to the prow of the boat and climbs the ladder herself instead of waiting to be pulled up.
"Queen Susan," the King says as her head clears the railing, "where are my men?"
"You told me to come alone." She swings her legs over the side onto the deck, and she is immediately seized by guards. "Release me," she snaps at the King.
"You have had my men killed. How can I not think that you might do something else rash in your distress? Take her to the quarters that have been prepared," he says to the men who hold her. "There will be water there for you to wash the blood from yourself."
She struggles a little but knows it will do no good as the guards lead her away.
"Wait," King Ardamin calls back. "Search her for weapons."
Susan swears under her breath. They find the daggers strapped to the insides of her wrists, and the one at the small of her back. At least she is well-trained enough not to be dependent on them.
-
"How are we supposed to know which one she's being kept in?"
Peter makes a hushing noise. "I need to think," he says.
"There's nothing to think about!" Edmund whispers viciously. They are close to the ships, close enough that they don't want to risk being heard. "Face it, Peter, we don't have a clue. The only one that stands out as more well-guarded is Ardamin's flagship."
"That's probably because he and Talmin are on it."
"I think it's our best chance."
"You can't be serious. Attack the most heavily-guarded ship? We have no real evidence that Lucy is there, and even if she were there's only the two of us to rescue her. We would be captured or killed immediately."
"So should we board another and not find her, then another, until they notice and capture or kill us then? We go for the flagship or nothing."
"We'll still be outnumbered."
"Outnumbered. We're Kings of Narnia, how can we be outnumbered?" Edmund laughs bitterly, then pauses and his expression changes. "How can we be? Peter, do you remember the birds on the cliffs? Are they within hearing range?"
Peter looks at him. "Does it matter?" He grins.
"How will your Majesties board the ship?" asks Kirseet.
Edmund frowns. "Will you take us right up against her side, so they'll only be able to see us if they look straight down over it?"
The dolphins nod, and the Kings hold their breaths as they slip beneath the water, hidden until they surface to nudge up against the ship's hull.
"Do you see anything?" Edmund says.
"No. Kirseet, will you carry me to port side?" They duck under and Edmund waits, shivering in the cold sea.
Peter is grinning when they reemerge. "There's a rope ladder someone left hanging all the way into the water."
"Aslan be praised," Edmund says.
-
"I'm very sorry about your injuries, my Queen," King Ardamin says. "But you shouldn't have attacked my guard. They were there for your protection."
She glares at him unabashedly. "Capture is not protection."
"Again, I'm truly sorry, but this is only temporary. It displeases me to see you so unhappy. I cannot believe that you have no desire to be Queen in Terebinthia. I have seen your face glow at hearing the accounts of our land. I am offering you silks and glass from Calormen, exotic fruit from the scattered isles, Archenland's most beautiful jewels, a garden of our hibiscus. I am offering you reign over a castle of your own, a window to the Far Eastern Sea."
"Your offer is generous but you have done my family a grave ill. Let me see my sister."
"Be reasonable, your Majesty. You understand that I cannot let you see your sister until you give me your response." He sighs. "This has been a great trial to me. You and your siblings have been most obstinate; see what extreme measures I have had to resort to? The High King would not give me your hand; I have seen the jealousy in his eyes. So I have simplified the situation. Simply say you will marry me and I will take you from here."
"And you'll return Lucy to us?" Susan's mind is whirling. If Lucy is returned, they will all return to Narnia to gather their army. They have vanquished an unrightful ruler before, and she was far more dangerous than this one.
"She will be safe as a member of the Terebinthian royal family. I am simply making this decision easier for you, my Queen."
Susan can suddenly see it clearly, as though laid before her eyes. He has no intention of letting either of them leave now. Lucy is not being held for ransom, the price of exchange for Susan's hand; she is a prisoner to hang over their heads while the Terebinthian rules Narnia as Susan's husband. Peter and Edmund he will have imprisoned or killed if they do not acquiesce.
Susan spits blood at his feet. "I'm not your Queen." She stands, the chair knocking against the wall of the cabin as she shoves it behind her.
"I know you will enjoy my country. Narnia is a cold place, wild and rough; you are too gentle and tender for such a land. Your woman's curves are made for cushions, not the hard stones of that wilderness." He stands and advances on her, a look in his eye that sickens Susan and stirs her rage.
She tries to retreat but the backs of her knees knock against the chair, which is up against the wall, and Susan realizes she is trapped. She quickly reaches beneath her skirts to draw a knife from where it was hidden against the inside of her leg, where the guards would not have looked. Not in front of the King.
Ardamin barely has time to register what she's done before the side of his head is burning, and he screams in pain. Susan has sliced his ear clean off.
-
"Narnia, to me!" Edmund cries to the pale faces of the cliffs. His voice makes Peter's ears ache strangely, but he does not flinch as he trades blows with a Terebinthian guard. He hopes desperately that this will work.
And surely, as Peter swiftly dodges a blow to thrust his sword into the man's stomach, he sees a wave of shadow cross the deck of the ship, hears a great flapping of wings and the cries of gulls, cormorants, petrels, all the birds of the sea, and knows what seemed like a gamble was all along a certainty. When called, Narnia answers, as if the land were an extension of their bodies and all they had to do was flex the muscle for the country to rise to glorious action.
The birds wheel and dive, aiming for the men's faces.
-
When Peter and Edmund find the guard with the keys, he is terrified and bleeding from many small beak-wounds. He offers them up freely and Peter hands the ring to Edmund.
"Your weapon, too," and the guard shakily hands over a sturdy axe.
"Where are you going?" Edmund asks.
"To find Susan. You get Lucy out. I'll manage," Peter says, hefting the axe.
Edmund climbs down the ladder into the darkness below deck, trying not to slip on the narrow rungs. When he reaches the bottom he calls back up to Peter that the coast is clear, and Peter leaves. Edmund looks around for any sign of Lucy, but he is in a bare corridor, lined with solid wooden doors.
"Lucy," he calls quietly. He would rather not find himself face to face with any Terebinthian guards. "Lucy, it's me." No one answers.
He calls louder, and that's when he hears footsteps on the ladder.
Edmund whirls and draws his dagger. A man drops to the ground from a height, and it takes not a second after Edmund recognizes his face in the patch of moonlight before he is upon the Prince, shoving him against the side of the ship, knife pressed against his throat.
"Please!" the Prince pants. "I've come to help!"
"Why should I listen? You Terebinthians have given us no reason to trust you." A drop of blood trickles down the Prince's neck.
"I can tell you where Lucy is."
Edmund lets up on the knife's pressure just enough to stop it from cutting any further.
"I have nothing to do with this, I swear. Diplomatic pressure is one thing, but I could never condone kidnapping a maid. The king will stop at nothing to have your sister's hand; if I had protested, he would have had me killed. He's mad, power-hungry and jealous."
"You knew. You betrayed her trust."
"I only knew when it was already too late."
"Tell me where she is."
"Let me go."
"First tell me."
The prince swallows and Edmund's blade scrapes his Adam's apple. "Two doors to my left. They've made the cell soundproof. Do you have the key?"
"Yes. Come with me."
The Prince goes with Edmund's dagger poking his side. Edmund hands him the keys and tells him to open the cell. The Prince puts the key in the lock, turns it, and the door swings open. Edmund can't see around the taller man, but he hears Lucy's voice: "You! Have you come again to persuade me to give in? It'll never –"
Edmund shoves the backs of the Prince's legs and forces him to his knees. Lucy is crouched on all fours, her back to the corner of the cell, dark smudges under her eyes.
"Edmund!" she cries.
"Will you believe that I would never harm her?" the Prince says. Edmund takes the keys from him.
"There are hordes of Narnians on the shore and in the sea waiting for the return of their King and Queen. If we are harmed, if we are detained, by sunset they will destroy your entire fleet. So go, Prince, with my thanks, but also with this warning: take care for your own life and the lives of your men. Let us go freely. Tell your brother that Narnia will never suffer a foreign king."
"I swear by all the sea," says the Prince.
"Swear by Aslan."
"Aslan in the East," he says, touching his forehead in a sign of reverence.
"Now go." The Prince climbs to his feet and exits, Edmund's knife never leaving his side until he is through the doorway.
Lucy bursts into tears and Edmund falls to his knees. She throws herself into his arms and he makes comforting noises into her hair.
"I knew you would come," she says. "I told them you would."
-
Susan sticks her knife in the web of muscle between Ardamin's right arm and chest and wrenches the blade up and in with all her strength. The King roars and knocks her back against the wall before she can stab him again. He crouches, arm bleeding and dangling useless by his side. She steadies herself and widens her stance, livid and pale. The King is snarling but still in too much physical shock to move. Faintly she hears a loud banging noise.
Reaching to the sheath at his side, Ardamin pulls out his own knife – stupid, she should have taken it from the first – and holds it unsteadily with his left hand. He's not as in practice as she, but his sheer size gives him an advantage, and she is cornered. She waits there, never breaking her gaze. It's clear that he would advance but for the knife she's holding two-handed before her. She realizes faintly that the awful crashing is someone battering down the cabin door, and hopes with every ounce her being, Peter, Peter, please let it be Peter, but she can't find a voice to shout with.
The King lunges, every detail of his movement clear to her. She does not let herself close her eyes or drop her blade, and the door breaks open with a splintering sound.
Susan collapses back against the wall as Peter leaps to tackle the King, knocking him to the floor. There is a terrible noise as Peter brings his axe to bear down on the back of Ardamin's neck. Blood flows everywhere but Susan still cannot close her eyes.
"Susan," she hears, "Susan," and her shoulders lurch and she heaves but there's nothing in her stomach. It's been almost a day since she last ate.
She feels Peter with his hands in her hair and she straightens up when her dry heaves are finished. She wipes her mouth pointlessly and Peter is there holding her head between his hands, lifting her face, kissing her fully. She can taste the sea-salt on his lips, licks them, her body sweet with relief and yearning. Her hands grasp at his shoulders and she buries her fingers in his hair, never more relieved to touch someone in her life, never gladder to feel a body pressed against hers.
"Peter," she says, and cries, and buries her face in his chest. He kisses her head and she feels his fingers grasping at her back as though he is finally holding something he had forgotten, or left, and is finally promising her with his hands, Never again.
-
On deck, bloodied and torn, the Kings and Queens of Narnia stand tall as Prince - now King Talmin, Susan realizes - bows deeply before kissing the hand of each.
"Forgive me, but I must hurry home to Terebinthia. The King's passing will have put the place in an uproar. Our generals may want to declare war, but it won't happen, I promise; his actions were indefensible."
Peter thanks him in fewer words, but not without sincerity.
"Queen Lucy," he says, "I could not be any sorrier for what has happened to you. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me..."
She looks at him sadly and says, "You are pardoned, King Talmin. We understand you were not culpable for Ardamin's actions."
Edmund is stony-faced and says, "We thank you for your aid in the recovery of our royal sister." Talmin answers with another bow.
Edmund does not say what he wants to: that he holds Talmin entirely culpable, guilty of passivity. He might claim that his hands were tied but Edmund would not believe him truly incapable of action unless he saw the man bound hand and foot. Edmund would have demanded that he take up the sword, literally or figuratively, for he knows that to excuse oneself from righteous action is to fall into the sin of selfishness. If you can respond, Edmund thinks, you are responsible. If you live in the world you are of the world, you cannot separate yourself from the world, and so you cannot claim innocence for inaction. The world will turn on you until you face yourself.
-
Late that night when Peter is in bed, Susan enters his room without a candle.
He bolts upright when he realizes he isn't alone.
"It's only me," she says. He relaxes at the sound of her voice.
"What is it?"
She sits on the side of his bed, and looks like the small girl she hasn't been for a long time. "Will you tell me a story?"
Peter laughs but it sounds a little like a sob. He pulls back the covers and she crawls over and climbs in next to him. They curl around each other, holding each other close.
"I want," he says, "I want to tell you a Narnian story. A story that belongs to us. Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy..."
"I know how it ends," she says. "When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done. And what then? I don't know how to live without another story, Peter." Her eyes are wet.
Quietly he kisses the tears that gather in the corners and on the ends of her lashes. "That's not an end at all. Look at us, here, Kings and Queens in Narnia. We didn't fall by accident into this story; it pulled us in and we became it. We reside in Narnia and Narnia resides in us – our minds and the memories of our bodies and our language. Once a King or Queen in Narnia..."
"Always a King or Queen."