A/N: Currently in the process of editing and rewriting. Stay tuned!
Narnian Forest
Telmarine camp
Tempestra crouched behind a cluster of tall bushes, eyes peering over the top. She knew it was useless to look for her scouts - they were almost impossible to spot - but she was never good at sitting and waiting. She wanted to move around, but even in her semi-camouflage clothes (loose pale green blouse, brown breeches, and faded brown boots) she would be more easily seen if she was constantly shifting. She didn't think many Telmarine guards would be up and wandering around the forest so early in the morning, but she wanted to be careful.
Luckily, she didn't have to wait long. Within a few seconds, Reepicheep and two other mice appeared from behind a tall fern.
"One guard between here and the Telmarine camp, My Lady," Reepicheep announced, standing on his hind-legs to address her. "He doesn't seem to be a very attentive guard, either," he added with a disapproving tone. "He was nodding off at his post."
The vigilante kept herself from smiling at Reepicheep's disdain. Keeping her face carefully blank, she replied, "Well, that's good for us, then. Makes it easier to take him out." After a moment's hesitation, she said, "Thanks for coming at such late notice, by the way. I wanted to do this alone, but I didn't think I could get close enough without getting caught."
Reepicheep nodded in agreement.
"It is an honor to assist you in any way, My Lady," he replied nobly.
Giving him a small smile - it was so hard not to pet him on the head or give him a hug when such a small, cute animal was talking about honor - Tempestra straightened from her position and, with a glance towards the guard, darted behind a nearby tree. With one eye warily on the Telmarine - who was facing away from her - the young woman stealthily made her way towards him while trying not to make a sound. Fortunately, she had little to worry about; just as Reepicheep had observed, the Telmarine guard was inattentive and clearly bored. He leaned against a tree, his chin drooping more and more as he became sleepier.
Within minutes, Tempestra was behind the guard. Pulling out a chemical-laden piece of cloth from her belt, the vigilante wrapped it around her hand. Then, without warning, she clapped it around the Telmarine's mouth and nose. He never even had a chance. He was already half asleep, and in the time it would have taken for him to wake up and fight back, the chemicals that he rapidly inhaled had already worked their magic and knocked him unconscious. The guard slid to the ground and slumped over, his back to the tree. He wouldn't wake up for another two hours, and when he did he would believe that he had simply fallen asleep at his post.
The second the guard slid to the ground, Tempestra and the mice hurried on, careful to keep an eye out for any Telmarine scouts. Luckily, there didn't seem to be any; another minute, and they were on the edge of the Telmarine camp. True to Caspian's reports, the sizable camp was divided into sections. Each section included small tents for officers and the infirmary, fires with ready wood, and areas for fixing weapons, practicing drills, sleeping, keeping the horses, and cooking. In the nearest section, the cooking area was located at the center of the camp where two Telmarines were sitting near five stew-pots hung on separate horizontal sticks over separate fires. The Telmarine cooks seemed to be waiting for the contents of the pots to cook as other Telmarine soldiers went about their own business honing weapons, making arrows, cleaning armor, practicing drills, taking care of horses, and more.
Tempestra observed all of this in a second. When she was done taking mental notes, she crouched back down behind the cover of some bushes and looked at the expectant mice.
"We'll have to move around to each section of the camp," she told the Narnian animals thoughtfully. Plucking out small pill-shaped containers, she handed one to each of the mice and watched as they tied the contains to their backs with string. "The stew-pots are in the center of each section. They're hanging over fires, but they're hung on wooden stakes so it shouldn't be too hard for all of you to get up there. Just drop the pills into the pots; they'll dissolve. If Trufflehunter was right, the herbs inside should make them sick. Any questions?"
The mice looked at each other, then shook their heads.
"We are ready, My Lady," Reepicheep announced, giving a short bow. "When the deed is done we will return to repeat the process at the following sections."
The vigilante nodded in approval.
"Well, good luck then. Try not to be seen."
When the mice scampered off, creating barely a rustle in the plants, Tempestra relaxed. She wasn't worried, really. Reepicheep and his mice had successfully infiltrated Miraz's castle and helped to open the gates without delay. All she had to do was wait...and maybe spy a little. She knew she'd told Peter that she was only going to help the mice with the pills, but she'd left out a small part. The High King was becoming increasingly protective over her, but he didn't have any reason to worry; her method of spying was fairly passive and safe.
Settling herself comfortably in a crosslegged position, the vigilante closed her eyes and placed her palms flat on her knees. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, breathing in a steady rhythm, then plucked a thread of her power from within her. Directing it with her mind, the young woman threaded the thin bit of her power through the nearest breeze, which was lightly blowing past the camp. Then, with a slight tug, she pulled the breeze so that it was blowing through the camp, weaving itself around the various sections until it finally gusted past her spot behind the bushes.
Within seconds the air current was carrying sound past her ears, laden with bits of conversation and random noises: horses neighing, weapons clanging, armor clinking, boots thumping, tents flapping, soldiers talking, and more. Tempestra listened to every conversation that she came across; once she thought she even heard Edmund conversing with Miraz. Most of the conversations among the Telmarines were about the battle ahead - boasts of future conquests, confidence reassurances of victory, and tedious talk of the state of weapons and horses.
"-no way we will lose this battle. If General Glozelle is correct, the Narnians are outnumbered more than five to one."
"And if he is incorrect? Only last week he told us the Narnians were extinct!"
"There cannot be many of them left. My captain told me they hide within their stone-"
The conversation slipped past Tempestra, and she let it go, turning to the next one.
"-told my son to look after my wife and daughter. He wanted to come, poor boy."
"Youth. They do not know the horror of war."
"I only hope the battle goes favorably for us so I might return to my family. My daughter has been sick of late, and without me-"
Something clenched in Tempestra's chest. Too many times, she assumed that the enemy was made of cruel, heartless men willing to kill for the sake of it. Too many times, she forgot that many of them were not only soldiers, but also fathers, husbands, and brothers. They had families to take care of. The vigilante dispersed the conversation and brought the next one forward.
"-that more than one of the council members are unhappy with the king's ascension to the throne."
"Hush! You are speaking of treason."
"Is it not obvious? They follow him now, but if they have the chance to be rid of him during the battle, they will. I overheard General Glozelle speaking to another council member; they believe the king murdered Caspian the Ninth."
"He is not so mad."
"Perhaps he is. I have also heard he plotted to kill Caspian the Tenth once he acquired his son."
"Better not to speak so freely-"
There were other conversations, just as quiet and furtive, about the politics of the Telmarine leaders. Miraz, it seemed, was on a new and shaky power base.
"My Lady? We have finished."
Opening her eyes, Tempestra saw Reepicheep and the two other mice standing in front of her, looking up at her expectantly. The vigilante nodded and got to her feet, banished the breeze with a flick of her power.
"All right, next section."
Over the next hour, the four of them secretly made their way to most of the sections of the camp to drug the stew-pots. Though Reepicheep and the other mice were willing to go through the entire camp, Tempestra had to remind them that if the Telmaines noticed something was wrong with all of the soldiers, they would suspect the food and simply get rid of it and make new, healthy food. If only some of the soldiers were sick, they would be less suspicious of the food. Though the mice accepted her reasoning, the young woman thought they were more eager to get all the Telmarines sick. Fortunately, none of them were caught, and as soon as they were finished they made an uneventful trip back to the How.
Narnian Forest
Aslan's How
The two royalties, one Narnian high king and one Telmarine prince, walked down the tunnel towards the War Room, speaking softly. Though Caspian was already dressed in full-out armor and leather, Peter had yet to change out of the leather tunic and breeches he'd worn since the siege on Miraz's castle. Despite the High King's insistence that he would be the one to duel Miraz, Caspian had yet to let the issue go.
"Look," Peter said warily, "if there's ever going to be peace with the Telmarines, you have to be the one who brings it."
Caspian frowned.
"How can I if you won't let me?"
"Not like this. If I don't make it-" Peter paused and turned to look Caspian in the eye, making sure that the prince understood what he was about to say next "-Narnia's future is in your hands."
Caspian met his gaze squarely.
"And what about your own future?" he replied.
Peter smiled wryly, turning away from the prince to look at the inhabitants of the War Room: Trumpkin, who stood next to the chunk of rock that served as a table; Reepicheep, who stood atop the table; and the Bulgy Bear, who hovered in the background nervously. All three Narnians looked at Peter and Caspian as they entered.
"I was thinking about a career in medicine," Peter said remorsefully.
The High King's eyes fell on the armor spread out on the surface of the table. It was an exact replica of the armor he had worn hundreds of years ago during the Golden Age: finely-made chain mail and coif, a red velvet tabard (tunic) on which a gold lion reared, polished plate armor, red leather gloves (the right of which was sewn with small steel plates), arm guards, greaves (leg guards), sabatons (feet guards), and a round helmet which Trumpkin held in his hands. The white dwarf seemed to be in the middle of transferring the weapons and armor from a wooden trunk to the table.
As Peter approached slowly, Trumpkin held out the helmet, and the High King took it slowly, almost thoughtfully and reluctantly, as everyone watched. Behind Caspian, Tempestra strode through the tunnel towards them, then stopped a few feet away from Caspian and leaned against the tunnel wall. Like the others, she watched Peter carefully as he began to converse about the upcoming duel and the need for marshals, or seconds, with the Bulgy Bear and Reepicheep, both of whom obviously wanted to fill the role.
As the High King helped Trumpkin to move his weapons and armor from the trunk to the table, he spoke wearily yet diplomatically, skillfully convincing Reepicheep not to be his second while also saving the noble mouse's pride. Though Trumpkin seemed to have only disdain for the Bulgy Bear, Peter seemed to give the bear's offer some thought, apparently appreciating the Narnian's loyalty and eagerness. For a second, as the youth was about to command Caspian to tell Edmund who he picked for seconds, the High King spotted Tempestra and met her eyes questioningly, as if silently asking her if she wanted to be his third marshal. However, the vigilante shook her head slightly, and the High King accepted the Bulgy Bear instead. He and Trumpkin teased the bear goodnaturedly about his habit of sucking his paw.
"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Peter asked humorously, a smile on his face as he hefted his silver shield, on which a scarlet lion reared. Yet Caspian's face was somber as he gazed at the shield.
"Are you sure that you are?" he countered quietly, raising his gaze. Half-smiling, Peter looked back at the prince, then seemed to sober as Caspian's words sunk in. His smile faded, andTempestra straightened from her position.
"Thanks for helping out," she remarked, stepping forward and breaking the silence. "The High King probably wants to be alone as he armors himself."
The Narnians took the hint and began filing out of the room. As they passed Peter, they murmured assurances, wishes of good luck, and thanks. Once they were gone, Tempestra looked around at Caspian, who realized her intent and began walking backwards out of the room.
"I'll go get the others and let them know who are your seconds," the prince said hurriedly. As he turned and almost jogged down the tunnel, Tempestra rolled her eyes and turned back to look at Peter, who had placed his shield on the table and was staring at the scarlet lion, his eyes distant.
"You're not still worried about the duel, are you?" Tempestra asked carefully, taking a step towards the High King. Peter smiled ruefully, his eyes still on the shield.
"Of course I am," he responded. He reached out his right hand and brushed off a bit of dust on the surface of the metal. "Wouldn't you be afraid?"
"Yes." The young woman walked over to stand next to Peter, then took his hand. "But you can still have courage at the same time," she reminded him. Peter looked down at their clasped hands, then back up at her, surprised. "You have something worth fighting for, Peter - a whole kingdom's freedom and peace."
The High King nodded.
"I know," he sighed. "I'll keep that in mind during the duel."
Tempestra squeezed his hand gently.
"Or you can just think about beating Miraz down to the ground," she suggested dryly. Peter gave her a small smile.
"That, too."
At the sound of Susan, Lucy, Edmund, and Caspian approaching, the two separated and turned to greet the others. Edmund and Susan had already prepared themselves for the battle; Edmund was dressed in armor that matched Peter's, while Susan wore an ensemble of chain mail, dark brown leather cuirass (defensive armor in the shape of a corset), rich red skirt, belt, and arm brace. The queen's hair was pulled back into a half-braid, and both siblings were armed. As the group came closer, Tempestra saw that Lucy, who wore the same clothes as before, carried a large bundle wrapped in canvas.
"Don't tell me Peter's got even more armor," the vigilante joked as the group stopped in front of the table. Susan, Edmund, and Caspian exchanged knowing smiles as Lucy shook her head and presented the bundle to Tempestra.
"This is for you, actually," the girl told her lightly. "The armorer and fuller recently finished." As Tempestra took it doubtfully and began to unwrap it, the young queen added proudly, "They based it off your old set. They used pictures, and we all described what we could remember."
It was battle attire. Realizing this, Tempestra began laying it out on the surface of the rock next to Peter's as she admired the handiwork. It was similar to Susan's when it came to the chain mail and cuirass (though the vigilante's was black, not dark brown), but past that it was uniquely hers. There were black leather gloves sewn with small metal plates over the fingers, long thin hair pins that suspiciously looked like they could also be used as small knives, and long dark violet billowy pants that mimicked a flowing skirt but allowed the owner to straddle a horse's back comfortably.
"We thought you could use your own belt, arm guards, and boots," Caspian commented as Tempestra gazed at the outfit in awe.
"And the weapons you already have," Edmund added, nodding at the vigilante's rapier and knives. They all watched the young woman reverently finger the chain mail and cloth.
"Do you like it?" Peter asked tentatively, when Tempestra remained silent. The vigilante turned to face the others.
"I feel like it's my birthday," she said finally, smiling gratefully. "Except that I got medieval battle gear instead of the newest nanotech." When they looked at her uncertainly, unsure of whether she was joking (and wondering what nanotech was), the young woman added, "I love it. Thank you, all of you."
"I'll armor you, if you'd like," Susan remarked, stepping forward. "Ed's going to help Peter with his armor, anyway." When Tempestra raised an eyebrow, the queen added, "I did learn a thing or two when I was queen."
"Then by all means, armor me," Tempestra replied graciously, pulling off her arm guards, belt, and weapons, and laying them on the rock table. As Susan began to armor the vigilante and Edmund began to armor Peter as Lucy and Caspian watched, the group began their last-minute conference.
Susan and Lucy, who were packed and ready for the search for Aslan, would ride on Caspian's favorite horse and depart from the secret exit set into the side of the hill. After seeing them off safely, Caspian was to oversee the last work on the grass trap doors, then finish assembling a third of the Narnian army in the main room. Tempestra would temporarily take Susan's place on top of the How and take command of the archers in case Susan didn't return before the battle started, and Peter and Edmund would leave for the duel with Miraz.
"Anything I should know about Miraz before I fight him?" Peter asked Caspian as Edmund fitted his older brother's greaves and sabatons onto his legs and feet. Susan, meanwhile, was pulling back Tempestra's hair with two locks of hair and fastening it with the pins, leaving the rest to flow down her back.
"Miraz is not a chivalrous fighter, or so I've heard," Caspian told Peter warningly. "He will strike you when you are down."
The High King grimaced and pulled on his gauntlets.
"Well, that's good to know," he replied sarcastically. Susan glanced over.
"Actually, it is," she commented. "It means you won't be taken by surprise if he tries fighting dirty."
"You won't fight dirty, will you, Peter?" Lucy asked apprehensively. Peter shrugged.
"If I have to, Luce."
Edmund frowned thoughtfully as he went over Peter's armor to make sure it was on properly.
"You know, there might be something between Miraz and the council members that you should keep in mind," the young king remarked musingly. "When I delivered the challenge, the council members seemed to be pressuring Miraz into accepting the duel."
"I heard the same thing when I was near the camp," Tempestra added. Buckling her belt and knife sheaths around her waist and slinging her rapier and sheath over her shoulder, she continued, "Even the soldiers are suspicious of Miraz. There's a rumor going around that each of the council members want the throne for themselves."
Peter looked at her questioningly as he buckled on his belt and adjusted his sheathed sword.
"So how can I use that to my advantage?" he asked doubtfully. The vigilante shrugged.
"The deal about the duel is only between you and Miraz, right? If you kill Miraz, the other council members might disregard the deal altogether and go through with the attack."
"In which case, we will have to defend ourselves," Caspian clarified.
"I'll try to extend the duel and hold off the Telmarines for as long as I can," Peter assured the prince, but Caspian shook his head.
"When you are dueling Miraz, you will want it to be over as soon as possible," he replied. "Miraz may be twice your age, but he is strong, experienced, and cunning."
Peter gave a dry smile.
"You could say the same thing about me," he told Caspian. Finished being armored, he kept his coif off, left the shield and helmet on top of the rock table, and turned to Tempestra, who was also finished and was now stretching to test the extent that the chain mail allowed her to move.
"Good God, chain mail is heavy," the vigilante complained, rotating her left arm. Peter just grinned.
"At least you're not wearing plate armor," he retorted lightly. "Anyway, you get used to it." The High King turned to Caspian. "One last thing - remember that it's ten counts after the horn. If Cornelius and Trufflehunter's calculations are correct, it should take the Telmarine cavalry exactly that amount of time to reach the ground above the collapsible pillars."
Caspian nodded, then extended his gauntlet-covered hand.
"I will remember," the Telmarine prince told the other youth, his dark eyes serious. "Good luck."
Peter grasped Caspian's hand in a quick handshake, then let go.
"You too. I'll see you out on the battlefield."
That seemed to be the cue for everyone to give last farewells and wishes for good luck. Susan and Lucy hugged Peter, Edmund, and Tempestra while Caspian shook each of their hands. They were neither overly emotional nor afraid as they began to depart; only a feeling of solemnity and kinship hung about the group. Though this was perhaps the last time they would see each other alive, or at least uninjured, they did not treat it so. After Lucy gave one last round of hugs, she, Susan, and Caspian left the War Room and headed for the tunnel to the secret exit. Edmund shook Tempestra's hand, then departed the room to make sure that Glenstorm and the Bulgy Bear were in position at the dueling ground. He and Peter would be leaving the How together, and the young king seemed to know that Tempestra and Peter wanted to say goodbye to each other alone.
The two faced each other, their gazes locked. Thoughts tumbled around each of their minds - fleeting ideas of what to say or do in case it was the last time they ever saw each other. In the end, the two youths moved closer to embrace each other warmly. It was clunky and slightly awkward from the chain mail and plate armor, but it felt comfortable and right at the same time. For a long moment they held each other, his arms circled around her waist, and hers around his back. Her head leaned against his soft red tunic, his chin rested on top of her hair.
When they finally drew back, Tempestra kissed Peter lightly on the cheek.
"Good luck, Peter," she told him firmly, smiling reassuringly. Then, as an afterthought: "Go kick some ass."
Peter chuckled quietly, then kissed Tempestra on the forehead.
"You, too." Without another word, Tempestra departed from the War Room and made her way towards the tunnels and stairs that led to the top of the How.
When she was gone, Peter braced his hands against the surface of the table and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths as he mentally and emotionally prepared himself. It was a routine he did before every battle since the first battle against the White Witch thirteen hundred years ago, and it served him well. He had been in many battles and fights, and more than a couple of personal duels. He was High King Peter the Magnificent, Sir Peter Wolfsbane, Ruler of Narnia during the Golden Age, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Emperor of the Lone Islands. His brothers and sisters were noble queens and kings, officially bestowed rule of Narnia by Aslan himself. His betrothed was the Lightning Lady, a clever adviser and fearsome warrior in her own right. He was fighting to protect all of them, and all Narnians, from a terrible fate. He was fighting for Aslan and for peace.
He was fighting to return home safely with his family.
"Peter? It's time."
Opening his eyes, Peter raised his head to see Edmund standing at the entrance to the War Room, his helmet tucked underneath one arm with a solemn but confident expression. The High King nodded. Pulling up his coif to cover his head and neck, the youth placed his helmet onto his head and raised the visor. Picking up the shield, he fitted it onto his left arm and walked over to Edmund.
"I'm ready."
The two brothers strode down the earthen and stone tunnels of the How, which was almost empty. Every soldier was in position, and the Narnians unable to fight were hidden in a separate chamber. As Edmund and Peter approached the entrance to the How, the sound of hundreds of voices shouting and cheering reached their ears. The voices were strong, encouraging, and confident, clearly supporting their high king. The two Pevensies stopped in front of the entrance, which sloped upwards into the bright light of the midday sun. Pausing, Peter took a deep breath.
Then he and his brother, their expressions steely, walked into the light.
A/N: Next - The Duel!
The scene with Peter picking his marshals is actually part of one of the deleted scenes from the Prince Caspian movie. I decided that only half of the scene was useful, though I did skip the very beginning when Peter is convincing Caspian that he, Peter, should be the one to duel Miraz. I also skipped over the dialogue between Reepicheep, Peter, and the Bulgy Bear in which they talk about who will be Peter's second. The rest, including the part when Susan and Edmund armor Tempestra and Peter, were made up by me.
As a side note, the end bit is best read while listening to the instrumental "The Battle" from the first Chronicles of Narnia movie. That's what I listened to over and over again while I wrote this chapter.