The battle was intense. Peter had never fought so hard in life, he wasn't even sure what he was fighting for precisely but he knew he mustn't let the rebels take control of Caspian's castle. They weren't the rebels you would think of, the ones who wanted lower taxes, or better land, no, they were after a new reign for Narnia. And they had one person in mind.
He was a tall figure with long black locks that fell well below his shoulders. With piercing blue eyes, one covered with a white eye-patch, he could see why his men were almost fearful of him. He was hauntingly beautiful yet vicious as he smiled down from his horse. Edmund groaned in disgust when he took notice of his absurdly sharp teeth.
"Great. He's not even human; he's some kind of mix-breed."
He was right. He unleashed his powers upon those who dared fight him. With each strike of large blade, it glowed a dark pink before slicing the head of the offender. Peter was fighting a losing battle. He needed to pull back, consult and figure out his enemy. They were uneducated on what they had to fight; he angrily looked back at Caspian's castle. He would give his right arm proving that some of them were in league with him. Why had they taken this time to come to him about in invasion, and in ten days time, nonetheless?
He had an inkling, but this was no time to think. It was time to kill. Peter roared as he brought down Narnia's sword on a tiny man. He quivered momentarily before dying at his feet. His boots were soaked with the crimson liquid before he turned around and jumped on top of his horse.
"RETREAT!"
Several of his right hand men called the same thing in unison. One by one, they pulled back towards their camps. Peter, to his much disdain, could hear the victory yells from the other side. He could see how much their leader wanted to pounce on them but war rules were that by retreat, the opposing factor was not to pursue. It was as if they were taking a break.
Peter ravaged through the main camp in a hurry. His men were startled; the old men fell to their feet trying to collect their fallen caps and papers.
"I'm sorry your sire…for your loss but- "
"It was not a loss." Peter put his sword on the table and stared at it for a minute.
"Which of you think Narnia needs a new king? Preferably I?"
Peter could not believe it when he saw how immediately and stupidly some of the men raised their hands. He looked out at the wrinkled faces, each of them were determined to please their master, "You lot will stay."
Peter stepped back and turned to Edmund, "Have the guards arrest those who didn't raise their hands. They are in league with the enemies."
Edmund's mouth opened and closed like a blow fish, but he nodded and clicked for it. They protested as they were dragged away. They were all gone except for one who was pleading.
"Please! Your majesty, I'm King Caspian's most humble, more trusting servan- "
"Liar! I know what you are and you're nothing less than a traitor. You will be left in the cells until King Caspian returns. Do I make myself clear?" He addressed the guards.
After they had all left, he looked back at the half dozen councilmen left. "I bet you are wondering why I arrested them and not you. Simple, because you are idiots. Only those brilliant enough could have fooled Caspian that long while consorting with the enemy, they would have never raised their hands." They looked shamefully down at their papers.
Edmund laughed, "Even if you are dimwitted, you are honest and loyal. Let's get back to this leader of his. What did you say his name was?"
The youngest of the men stepped forward, "Avery. Avery Rutchin."
Edmund was staring at the ceiling of the tent, "He's not human, is he?"
The young man shook his head, "He's a mix-breed of a dark elf and a mermaid."
Edmund stopped short in his tracks, "Narnia has elves?"
"Yes, but only a few know. Only the King's council, it is by an ancient contract to keep them in secrecy. They do not like our kind much."
Peter applied pressure on his arm to stop a small cut, "How do we destroy him?"
"Fire."
Peter groaned, "Where are we to get flamethrowers?"
Another councilman piped, "What is a flamethrower?"
"Never mind that," said Edmund.
The young one almost looked ecstatic as he came up with an idea, "lit catapults!"
Edmund laughed, "So simple yet right you are."
They had assembled their catapults in record time. They had no even bothered to rest or sleep, the fight needed to end now before any more lives were lost.
Peter's arm had turned a nasty green and he regretfully gave up his position to Edmund. He was in dire need of treatment as was on his way back to the castle. A nasty odor was emitting from the bandages and the pain was so unbearable, he had to bite his tongue to avoid screaming. He was accompanied by a short, bald doctor who was sweating profusely when he looked at him.
He clicked his tongue, "It needs to be amputated. You were cut with a poisoned sword, I'm afraid."
"Oh just what I need." Peter grunted through clenched teeth. He rolled over and looked out of the carriage. He could still see the battle, and they were winning. Edmund was doing a grand job directing the lit catapults towards the invaders.
Peter smiled when he heard the victory cheers. They had won, but he frowned when he realized he had to lose an arm as a compromise.
It took nearly six hours before his arm was completely removed and Peter had still not woken up from the heavy dose of anesthesia he was given. He looked – well there was no way to delicately put this. He looked like hell. His usually rather lightly tanned skin had turned very pale, with a tinge of gray. Dark brown bags lay heavily underneath his eyes which were flicking rapidly underneath the moonlight.
Going down his figure, one side of his body was heavily bandaged and apparently so under the blanket strewn across him. Spots of blood were already soaking the bandages. Another small figure was hurriedly rushing to his side, wiping his brow and placing medicinal herbs skillfully in between the bandage linings.
A small knock broke the doctor's concentration. He muttered angrily before opening the door. Upon realizing he was facing King Edmund, he bowed and closed the door after him as he met with his highness in the corridor.
"How is he?" Asked Edmund nervously, looking at the door at the same time.
"I have just finished with the amputation. It is far too early to make predictions, your highness. But his body seems to be responding well."
King Edmund released his breath, "That's good…good…very good...he's quite fine…he's fit." He ran a hand over his face before realizing his was talking utter nonsense.
"Are you quite alright, your highness? Do you wish me to give you something to relieve your nerves?"
"Do I look mad to you?' snapped Edmund in frustration. "When he wakes, let me know!" He spun on his heels and almost ran down the corridor and out of sight.
The doctor was shaking when he opened the door to attend to his patient. "If that is his reaction to me for asking a simple question, I'd had to see what would happen if you died in my hands!"
"He's asked me to marry him."
Lucy was flabbergasted as Emily held on to her hands and practically jumped with joy. Her scarred face had almost disappeared in her flush of happiness. It had turned out, Joshua, had fallen in love with her since the minute he laid eyes on her, it had taken quite awhile for Emily to fall for him. She claimed she was too busy getting herself acquainted in Emerald Island. Lucy knew it was bullocks, she was just afraid.
But she had at once offered to plan the wedding. At least she had a chance to attend a wedding in her lifetime. She doubted that Susan would ever invite her or she would settle down. No. She was going to raise her kids without any mans help!
"When?" said Lucy finally after twenty minutes of hugging and squealing.
"Well…he's being a little impatient-"
She took a hold of her friend's shoulders, "When Emily?"
"Tonight."
"It is very early, don't you think?"
Emily wrangled her fingers with a look of a misbehaving child, "Well I thought so to….but what is the point of waiting? I love him and he loves me."
Lucy peered at her before sighing in defeat, "If you wish. What time?"
Emily and Lucy had successfully tracked down a tailor to whip up Emily's dress in no time. It was a modest one but Lucy could not help but feel a little over zealous when she saw how nicely it fell over her body. Her appraisal of the marvelous dress had ended when Lucy looked at the bride's face. It was a mixture of apprehension…and perhaps fear?
Lucy moved so that she stood in front of Emily, "What is the matter?"
Emily was still looking at her dress in the mirror before addressing her. "Am I doing the right thing? I mean – marry him?"
The valiant queen clicked her tongue while impatiently placed her hands on her hips, "Do you love him?"
Emily was startled, "Yes. Of course."
"Does he love you?"
"He's said it only a million times!"
"Then you are doing the right thing." Lucy nodded her head with a final note.
The wedding was simple but moving. Lucy had a difficult time keeping herself composed, she usually did not cry at such events. It was too feminine of her. Charles had laughed when he took in the state of her but he kindly let her knew that it was because of her pregnancy, that expecting women were prone to emotional upheavals.
After they had said their goodbyes to Emily and Joshua (another emotional moment as Lucy was reluctant to let her friend leave their embrace,) Charles and Lucy made their way to the house. She was sad to see Charles go to bed early that night, leaving Lucy to entertain herself.
She didn't want to be alone. Not right now. Not when she had just watched her friend get married and begin a beautiful journey while she sat their vulnerable and in despair. It has been nearly five months since Lucy had left Caspian. Five horrid months when all she could think of was her almost-to-husband, perhaps married to Susan by now. But somehow, in the back of her mind, she doubted he had done it.
There was something raw in their love-making, something passionate, and she was very sure he felt it too or it may be true as they say about men, they truly are blind! Caspian was not dumb, a little blind, but certainly not dumb. He would come for her. This was the ultimate test.
Lucy giggled to herself. It all seemed a little too dramatic, too much to fathom but this was her life, a bit pathetic really. She softly grazed her swollen stomach. Thankfully, she was not as huge as a beach whale yet but because she was with twins, her belly was bigger than the average five month period.
She had developed a fondness for cheese, apples, jam, and sweets. Oh many, many sweets! The local sweet shop was on familiar terms with her seeing as she was their every week buying chocolates by the pounds. Charles looked down at her with disdain while she filled herself with unhealthily treats but as he tried to interfere her snacking session one morning, he never crossed her again.
Lucy looked up as the wind slapped her curtains around, she quickly shut the windows. Peering out into the darkness, she felt something in the pit of her stomach. No, it was not her twins but something else. An attraction, a desire to go out, it was as if something was calling her. She opened the doors quietly and left the silent home.
The wind was picking up as she followed the dirt path towards the shore. The air was fresh, kind of salty in a way as Lucy opened her as she yawned. Against the moonlight, the ocean was glittering like pool full of emeralds and diamonds. Clouds were shifting to the right while hiding the moon teasingly before moving on. The waters on the other hand were tossing and turning as if it was angry.
That was all you could hear, the ocean, the wind, and the handful of crickets in the forest. She curled her toes playfully in the sand, loving the feeling of it between her toes. Suddenly the ocean made a dash at her feet. She embraced the cool wetness and looked out at the horizon.
Like every night, she had a feeling he would be on that familiar ship. She could clearly seem him with a broad smile on his face, his eyes full of love, and a somewhat full beard looking at her at from the front of the ship. Every time she imagined it, her heart would expand but the vast nothingness crushed her.
She kicked the sand once more before turning around and leaving the ocean to beat itself.
Caspian took a swig from the glass of water. Yes, a glass of water. He had wallowed himself into his liquor not too long ago after Lucy had left but he could almost see her standing there berating his behavior. He had dumped (much to his crewmen detest) the remainder of the barrels of his rum into the ocean the following morning.
It has been five months since he began his journey, maybe a little more but the prospect of finding Lucy never wavered his hope. Every month they had made a stop for several days to acquire food and water before setting sail. His men grew restless, one went far as to suggesting she had died at sea, but he set him straight, now the man would not look him in the eye.
She wasn't dead. If she was, he would've known. Sometimes at night, he could feel her, like she was calling out to him, beckoning her. Oh…how he would give anything to go back in time to that night when Lucy came to him with her suggestive clothing practically inviting him to make to love to her. He would have done it but something prevented him. He certainly did not care that she had to take extra care on herself to look appealing to him.
She was his Queen, his love; she did not need to approach him like that. The way she seductively pointed her chest out and moved forward one of her legs to accentuate them, it was as if she was whoring herself to him, he hated the idea. Not her little Lucy, not his soon-to-be-wife.
He had come across approximately twenty-five shores and every time he thought had found her but it ended in a disastrous attempts. He had to fight natives, or be chased by an unknown beast, or get sick from a plant but he would do anything to find her.
All he had right now were memories and they were never stronger as they were now. He groaned in protest as he sat his glass down. They needed to pick up the pace, he had to find her. By every second, every minute, every day that kept passing, he was missing precious moments with her. His little Lucy, oh how he missed her.