A/N: Currently in the process of editing and rewriting. Stay tuned!
Narnian Forest
Aslan's How
The rest of the Narnian group had finished trooping into the How, the wounded being helped along into more private tunnels and dug out rooms to rest and recuperate. Lucy's magic cordial had worked wonders, having effectively brought down their number of fatalities due to injuries down to zero. Of course, it didn't stop the army from grieving over the many that had still died during the ill-fated siege. Tempestra did not take part in any of the small, tightly-knit groups of Narnians mourning over specific friends and comrades. Nor did she sit resting in one of the rooms or tunnels. Instead, the vigilante prowled restlessly through the maze of tunnels branching underneath the How.
Peter and Susan had been called away to participate in the mourning, a royal duty that required them to comfort the living and grieve the dead. Lucy was off taking care of some of the younger Narnians, who had unofficially adopted her as their caretaker whenever their parents were busy with warfare. Edmund was in the room that was dubbed the armory, helping to count up their stock of weapons and figure out which ones to best replace. As for Caspian - he was nowhere to be seen, having gone off to do his own activities. Secretly, Tempestra thought that the prince was sullenly lurking somewhere, nursing his broken pride and resentment. More than ever, he was a barrel of gunpowder just waiting to blow up from a small spark.
Yet the Lightning Lady found that she didn't really care. Clad in some clean clothes that had once been Susan's - a loose long-sleeved white blouse, black vest, and brown breeches - and coupled with her original boots, arm guards, and belt, the young woman strode through the tunnels, half-exploring, half-inspecting the winding earthen halls with little interest. Her mind was anywhere but her surroundings, anywhere but the How and Narnia.
She had been gone for more than four weeks, and barely any closer to getting home. Surely, even the Titans had noticed her absence, or at least, the lack of trouble that she had a habit of creating. And Damien? Three weeks was a long time for them to go without speaking, even for their long-term friendship. And if what Robin had hinted at was really true, then there was at least one person concerned with her freelance vigilante status - didn't they notice that she had, literally, vanished off the face of the earth? Were they trying to find her? Contact her? Or had she simply disappeared and been forgotten?
It was a dismal thought, broken up by the sound of hoof-steps. Turning, Tempestra saw a child centaur, the one that had been part of the honor guard welcoming the Pevensies, Caspian, and herself when they had first entered the Howe. The young centaur looked nervous as he mumbled, eyes averted, "His Highness and Their Majesties are summoning you to the war council, My Lady."
Back to business. Tempestra nodded and the little centaur trotted off, wild strawberry hair swinging. Was he related to any of the Narnians that had perished in the siege? Was he, like some of the other Narnians she suspected, losing faith in her, Caspian, and the Pevensies? Her eyes on his receding back, the vigilante started for the war room, idly wondering at the distant and detached state of her mind. If the conflict was so personal, why didn't she feel emotionally attached?
The war room was not, as it had once been, the room housing the Stone Table. Instead, it was much smaller and cozier, with torches dispersed along the stone walls. Tall pillars of the same material, standing vertically or lying on their sides, surrounded a large chunk of rock set in the center of the room. This was not for the large group of Narnians representing every species, as it had been around the Stone Table. Here, it was a select group of only a few generals (Glenstorm, Ferrah, and Reepicheep), advisers (Nikabrik, Trumpkin, Trufflehunter, and Cornelius), and royal leaders (the Pevensies and Caspian).
As Tempestra crossed the threshold, she saw that she was the last one. Everyone but the Pevensies and Caspian were sitting or standing at the edges of the room, their attention focused on the young royal leaders. Edmund and Lucy were noticeably missing, probably still busy with their respective tasks. However, Susan was standing next to the table, Peter was on the opposite side, and Caspian was pacing around. They all looked up as Tempestra entered.
Peter was the first to approach her.
"I'm sorry I couldn't help you earlier," he told her, extending a hand out to her side in some kind of gesture of support, perhaps to assist her if she felt weary. "How're you feeling?" When Tempestra continued to approach the table, the High King settled for a protective hand on her elbow as he followed her, staying by her side.
"I'm fine," the vigilante replied shortly, her voice coming out more curt than she had planned. Despite the tone of her voice, Peter squeezed her shoulder comfortingly before drawing back a few steps to give her some space. After giving the High King a nod of thanks, Tempestra looked around at the rest of the room, noting Caspian's bitter look and Susan's solemn expression. The Narnians ringed around the room were quiet, their faces carefully blank. "What's going on?"
"We need to plan for the next move," Caspian announced, his gaze meeting the vigilante's. "One that does not end so poorly."
"Caspian, just drop it," Susan commented warily, eyes flicking from face to face as she judged their reactions. "It's in the past."
"No, I want to hear what the Telmarine has to say," Peter interrupted. Everyone looked at him, taken aback. The High King was looking directly at Caspian, his eyebrows raised expectantly. "Spit it out, Caspian. I know you're keeping it bottled up."
"Peter..."
The Telmarine prince overcame his surprise. Walking up to the table, he braced both hands against its surface and adopted a condescending tone.
"I think we can all agree that when we summoned you here, we didn't get what we expected," he remarked, looking around the room at the uneasy faces. His eyes rested on Tempestra, who stared back at him coolly.
"I'm sorry this didn't turn out to be a picnic," the Lightning Lady responded cuttingly. "Did you expect your uncle to look at us in awe and surrender?"
"No, I expected a successful takeover," Caspian retorted. "If we had just gone with my plan-"
"Calm down," Susan began, but Peter interrupted.
"And what - let us rot in here?"
Caspian talked over both of them. "If we had just stayed here, more Narnians would have lived! If you had just taken my idea-"
"It wouldn't have worked," Tempestra snapped.
"-if everyone would have listened to me instead," Caspian continued loudly, "or-" he pointed at the vigilante "-if you had supported me like you promised you would, none of this would have happened! The horn was supposed to summon proper leaders!"
Silence followed the Telmarine prince's words as he lowered his hand slowly. Everyone's eyes were on Tempestra, who stared at Caspian, feeling as if the knot in her chest had grown tighter and her mind more detached. Peter, on the other hand, looked furious.
"Caspian, you go too far."
"No." Tempestra cut Peter off, her eyes still on Caspian. "He's right." Peter looked at her incredulously. "I'm not a leader. I'm not a legend, royalty, or whatever all of you made up. I shouldn't even be here. This isn't my fight." Tearing her gaze away from the Telmarine prince, the vigilante turned to leave.
"So you're going to let down your people?" Caspian called out, his voice lancing her back. The young woman paused and turned around, her expression stony.
"They're not my people." There was an inaudible intake of breath around the room as the room's occupants absorbed her shocking words. "Despite all of your grand delusions, the only reason why I got into all of this was just to get back home." Tempestra looked at Caspian. "If I'm not living up to your expectations, fine. I didn't want to come in the first place." Shrugging out of the strap and sheath of her long rapier, the vigilante crossed to the table and laid the sword on the surface. In the middle of the stunned silence, she turned on her heel and walked out.
"I hope you all win."
She used a shortcut that led from the war room to the exit that led out of the How and into the forest. Weaving through the web of tunnels, the vigilante fully expected her path to be empty; after all, this particular shortcut was unknown to most Narnians, or so she thought. But if she had bet on it, she would have lost. Turning around a sharp curve in the wall, Tempestra nearly ran into a certain dark-haired Narnian king. They both reeled backwards to avoid a collision.
"Whoa, sorry." Edmund steadied himself quickly, then took in the young woman's appearance - swordless, with a small satchel that she'd claimed slung over her shoulder. "Where're you going?"
She almost felt bad for lying to Edmund. He truly was a very nice person, and he didn't have the hidden agendas or resentful emotions that the others had to motivate them.
"Scouting," the vigilante lied easily, holding the king's gaze innocently. Unfortunately, Edmund seemed to have some experience in seeing through lies. The young man frowned.
"You're leaving," he stated, more accusing then questioning. "Tempestra, you can't just leave like this. The Narnians need you. We need you. Peter needs you." Tempestra inwardly winced, and for the first time, she looked away, sighing impatiently.
"Peter and everyone else have dealt with me not being here."
"Yeah, and look where it's gotten them," Edmund replied, gesturing around them as if to encompass the entire How and the state that Narnia was in. He dropped his hand. "You can't leave now."
He wasn't too bad at guilt-riding people, Tempestra reflected distractedly. Maybe a consequence of being Narnia's judge for fifteen years? She was detaching herself more from the situation at hand, avoiding the guiltiness that Edmund was doggedly trying to push at her. The young woman sighed again and uncomfortably shifted the strap on her satchel.
"Look, I joined this whole thing to get back home. That's been my only reason."
Edmund looked straight into her eyes.
"Are you sure that's your only reason?" he asked, his gaze never wavering. "There wasn't anything else?"
He was aptly named Edmund the Just. Tempestra looked away from his gaze, though it wasn't unkind.
"Ok, maybe I did want to play the hero leader." She looked back at the young king. "But after I almost died, I had a kind of epiphany." She shrugged. "I don't want to follow some kind of past or future destiny that's already been written out for me. I'm choosing my own way."
Edmund looked more disappointed than angry.
"You mean you're being selfish," he said quietly. Tempestra steeled herself against his disappointment, guilt-riding, and justness, and pushed by the young king without looking into his face.
"Call it whatever you want," she replied. "I'm done."
Narnian Forest
Outside of Aslan's How
The forest was quiet, its usual chorus of sounds now hushed as if in anticipation. Tempestra slipped out of the secret exit, looking dubiously over her shoulder at it. Someone should have told the Narnians that a secret exit should also be hidden; theirs was little more than a doorway made of stone slabs embedded into the lee of a small hill. Granted, it was somewhat camouflaged by overhanging trees and bushes, but it was still not so difficult to find. She'd have to mention it to Peter when she saw him again.
If she saw him again.
Pushing the thought out of her mind, the young woman struck out from the How, with no idea where exactly she was going. But she did know what she was going to do: meditate. And for that, she needed the quietest, most peaceful place. Eventually, she decided on a particularly soft spot of grass, partially concealed by a couple of tall bushes. For extra measures, the vigilante created a lightning shield to surround herself before settling down cross-legged on the grass.
Then she closed her eyes.
Calming down and finding her proper meditative state took an embarrassingly long time. Tempestra knew it was partly because she had barely practiced meditation in the last month; what with royalty, fights against Telmarines, and conflicts within the Narnians camp, she hadn't had a lot of spare time to meditate. In fact, she hadn't had a lot of time to sleep. Now, when she had to relax and focus her mind, she found that being tired and agitated really didn't help.
After more than a half hour, the young woman finally concentrated her mind into the proper meditative state. Once there, she quietly lingered there, savoring the peacefulness. For the first time in a month, she was content. She didn't have to worry about anything at the moment, merely satisfy herself with a centered mind. But there were other things that she had to do.
Taking a firm hold of her emotions, Tempestra focused her mental self, then called out mentally, using her emotions - icy grief, frustration, anger, and fear - to fuel the voice and act as a kind of emotional red flag. Raven had once told her that she could sense intense emotions, especially those of people she knew well, including her teammates. With any luck, the vigilante would be able to get Raven's attention if the empath was being receptive at all. She just had to pray that the Titan could still sense strong emotions from familiar people even in another world.
Raven? Can you hear me?
She let a few minutes go by, listening with her mind for any responses. When none came, she tried again, louder and with more emotion.
RAVEN? CAN YOU HEAR ME?
Only a long silence followed. Tempestra's mental self receded slowly and sadly, her emotions dissipating back and leaving her with in the original blank meditative state. In that state, there was nothing but stark cold reality: she was alone. Completely, utterly alone. She could not contact anyone from Earth, nevermind Raven and the other Titans. She didn't know any other dimension travelers, and even if she did, she wouldn't know how to let them know she was trapped.
Trapped. She was absolutely trapped in Narnia, with no way out. For the first time, the full weight of that knowledge crashed down upon her, dragging her down with a total feeling of helplessness. She would never return to Earth, never see Damien or Robin or Kid Flash or the Titans. Never use technology or modern science again, never have the chance to go back to college, never go back to being normal (whatever normal was). Cars, skyscrapers, phones, computers - they were all in the past now. She was stuck in a land lost in time that - judging by the change in weapons, armor, and architecture - barely made any kind of technological progress. In thirteen hundred years, the Narnians were still in the Medieval Age and the Telmarines in the Renaissance one.
What was she supposed to do now?
Help the Narnians defeat Miraz, a part of her whispered. That part of her reminded her of her old duty to help the Narnians, the legend that emblazoned her on the pages of history as a hero and leader. She could still be that heroic leader. She was convinced that, contrary to popular belief, Aslan would never come. The Narnians needed her help or they would be wiped from existence, an utter genocide all over again. If they lost, the Telmarines would never let them have the chance to rise again. All of Narnia would be destroyed until the last Narnian was found. Caspian would probably be killed in battle, if not executed by Miraz himself. And Peter, who only wanted his kingdom back to the way it used to be, would be murdered along with his siblings. Tempestra would be forced to go on the run for the rest of her life, now that the Telmarines knew what she looked like and what she could do. They would never allow her to live as long as they wanted to maintain total control.
But there were so many reasons why she didn't want to go back. She didn't want to die, sacrificing her life for a cause that she had no connection to. She'd tried being a hero and doing the 'fighting for what's right' thing and even though it had felt nice for awhile, it had its price. She wasn't cut out to be that selfless and noble. Hell, the only noble thing about her was her refusal to kill. Was that the thing holding her back? Would she have to kill to fully realize her place with the Narnians? If she killed again, she wouldn't just lose her old self from Earth - she'd also lose the vigilante one. She couldn't be a lone non-killing vigilante who looked out for herself, and a selfless people-caring hero who led armies and slaughtered her enemies in the name of a nation. She had to pick one.
She had to decide.