So, I was going to put this up without telling Jade as a surprise, but I couldn't resist showing it to her because I know she'd be so excited. For those who might still be reading this (or not), this huge, multi-annual delay thing is totally my fault. I could throw out excuses and such but I'm not going to because that will feel really weird. (That's for the next chapter.) Anyway, I tried to make this as long as possible (with out short the chapters in the book are) to make up for it. And detailed. And stuff?

Also, I've gone/am going through the chapters fixing the stupid little grammar/spelling mistakes I made so it's far more readable.

Also, I want to warn you much of this chapter is rather serious. It gets lighter near the end, but I (Risa) am not in tip top shape, if I do say so myself. A lot will be explained later, but I hope you don't mind a distinct lack of really comedy in this small portion of the story. There are snatches of it, but not enough, really.

And again, I am so sorry. Everything is going to be updated far more regularly (probably weekly or bi-weekly) because me and Jade see each other a lot more and then are going to see each other even more. I dunno how much we want the internet to know, though, so, yeah! But she's going to be able to threaten me much more easily!

So here's the chapter!

Walking in the Cold, Parents of Holidays, Wolves with Headaches, and Guilt Relieved

I thought I was going to skin Mrs. Beaver alive. I mean it. I appreciate food and all, probably more than most people, but I wanted to get some answers from Aslan. And, you know, see him again. Probably cry. Or something. Whatever works at the time. Probably both, like, at the same time.

Both Susan and I were arguing that we should get going but Beaver, who agreed with us, wouldn't go against his wife. Even Lucy got in on it.

"Please, Mrs. Beaver, we have to go." If I hadn't been so worried, and if I hadn't actually liked Beaver, then I would have actually tried to sound as if I had any authority. Becoming the Warrior Maidens of Narnia hadn't exactly been really official or anything, but Beaver seemed to think the position was something more.

"Dearie, we have a Warrior Maiden with us, and we have a quarter of an hour lead."

I can't believe I've been used against my own argument. If I hadn't been angry, I would have laughed. As it was now, I just sat wearily. "She has a sleigh, remember? Even I can't beat a bunch of running reindeer. And a sleigh."

"Was that humor?" Peter asked, blinking at me.

"No!" I quickly said, then sighed. If Jade had been with me, I would have agreed readily. But I was still mad...wasn't I?

"Warrior Risa, could you please hold this pack? It is yours to carry." Mrs. Beaver started to hand out packages for all of us. It seems as if I got the heaviest, being the oldest except for the Beavers themselves, and Lucy got the smallest with a "There's six loads and the smallest for the smallest of, us, thats you my dear."

Finally, she allowed Mr. Beaver to help her into her...boots?

Narnia. Only in Narnia.

And then she started fretting on and on about her sewing machine while the children begged her to hurry and I struggled to remember she was a valued ally of Narnia. Yet after much logic, we finally convinced her that, yes, it was too heavy and that the Witch would probably not bother with it much as she had too many evil thoughts about the future kings and queens of Narnia to worry about it. Dear Lord, she was worse than my mother!

Since I really didn't know the way, as the map of Narnia that had gotten situated in my head after our return from the Dawn Treader was a bit mixed up in all of the emotion and hastiness, I did let Mr. Beaver take point and let Peter follow directly after Lucy who was following the Beaver. There was a part of me that could feel for him as I was also an eldest sibling and felt inclined to protect them. We, the oldest, fail often and we feel guilty about failing our beloved younger brothers and/or sisters. We really do, it's just we don't allow ourselves to show it often.

It was an amazing night, even I'll admit that I noticed it in my waning anger. Moonlit nights were one of the reasons I put up with the cold of winter. Everything looked glossed in silver and wrought with glass or diamonds or both. For a long time, I hardly felt the cold for the view of the moon and the stars and the snow. Narnia. That's the only real word for it. A frozen Narnia, waiting to unleash spring in all it's glory.

Then winter came through my skin and I shivered, adjusting my pack often as we followed the too-slow footsteps of Mr. Beaver. That's when I noticed Lucy was starting to stumble like one does when one is woken up at four in the morning when they fell asleep at 3:30. Looking around, I noticed the two other children were starting to look just as haggard and I suddenly re-remembered that they were children. Going all night like this was quite impossible. I was used to staying up for all hours of the night and getting little sleep but these future monarchs were not.

I slowed to walk beside Susan and silently took her pack from her. When she started to protest, I shook my head and took out some of the things she was carrying and gave the slightly lighter pack to her. Even though it wasn't much, when one is tired the smallest bit helps. I then tried to do the same to Peter, but he shook his head and I moved to Lucy, who didn't argue when I started carrying her pack. If I knew I wouldn't be able to because, if I was honest with myself, I had almost no energy, I would have carried her. Most of my anger had left me, at least that hot kind that makes you want to scream and shout and hit things, and the aftermath was just feeling almost nothing because being happy would be too much with one of my best friends locked up by an evil queen. It also wasn't numbness, for the same reason. It was just...weak, I guess. Very weak. Not really in body, as I was carrying so much and didn't really care about it, but in heart. I was not used to being weak at heart, and—in hindsight—it disturbs me.

The shivers steadily became more violent as the snow melted and clung to my clothes. Strangely enough, it was my feet that stayed warm. Despite allowing my best friend to be captured by a witch, Aslan could make very good shoes.

We followed Mr. Beaver for a long time. The path got rough several times and it took real work to get through it. It was odd, being along a frozen river and being towered over by the sides of the valley. I blinked away the weariness from my eyes when I realized how tired the children were. When the snow started falling again, I started to worry. When you were tired, the cold could either wake you up or encourage the feeling.

The next thing we knew, Mr. Beaver was disappearing into a hole. Lucy nearly collapsed to the ground to crawl in after him. I stood up, needlessly looking around. There would be no one around but the air felt heavy despite the slowly falling snow. The three kids were barely conscious and only the Beavers seemed to have any real optimism.

The thought hit me particularly hard. I'd been an optimist for as long as I could remember and that I wasn't joining in their joy at seeing the Lion was troubling, even as I felt it. At no time in my life had I felt anything other than wanting when thinking of Aslan, of that innate need to be whole in the way only God can give.

For a brief moment, I wondered what was wrong with me until the rest of them were inside and I crawled after them. Mrs. Beaver was just finishing up a statement about pillows when I made myself as comfortable as I could, grateful that I was so fond of tent-camping as we slowly fell asleep.

It was the next morning, woken by a stiffness in all of my limbs (I was quite a bit taller than the rest of the group and so wasn't nearly as comfortable). The smooth breathing of the children and the Beavers told me exactly how asleep they were. I was about to slowly sit up but decided against it when I felt a tightness on my coat.

Everything that had been roiling within me softened when I saw Peter's hand grasping at the coat. High King Peter the Magnificent was probably frightened and it was difficult to hide that in one's sleep. I had not met the future Peter as I had Lucy and Edmund and so could claim no connection to what he would be (except in the purely fangirl sense) but I started to really like him just then. He was around the age of my two youngest siblings so any oddness I felt when I reached out to smooth his hair was gone when I threw either of them in his shoes.

It wasn't that much later that the distant sound of bells woke Mr. Beaver. I took my hand away just before Peter woke up. He blushed and swallowed when he realized exactly what he'd been doing in his sleep as boys who must pretend to be men must do. I resisted winking at him and tactfully pretended that it never happened.

Lucy was the last to wake, just as Mr. Beaver scurried out of the small den.

"We may need you, Warrior Maiden." Mrs. Beaver whispered, her forepaws twitching. I only nodded, crouching like I was ready to spring out of the den at a moment's notice. (Foreknowledge kinda takes the shock factor out of something, to be honest, but I was pretty good at acting when I wasn't hyped up on...anything...).

The voices caused everyone to tense, including me who knew it wasn't her.

And when Beaver stated so, shouting at us from the clear air, and we all crawled out. The sun was too-bright with the snow settled on the ground.

"Come on! Come and see! This is a nasty knock for the Witch! It looks as if her power is already crumbling." We scrambled up the deep walls of the valley.

"What do you mean, Mr. Beaver?" Peter was out of breath, just behind me.

I had an advantage being significantly taller than all of them and reached the top a moment before the rest did. It had planned to reach down and help them but even I was stopped short by the sight of Father Christmas.

"Didn't I tell you that she'd made it always winter and never Christmas? Didn't I tell you? Well, just come and see!"

The children and Mrs. Beaver were right behind me and just as still as I.

Though I'd gone on a journey through magic before, seen a dragon for goodness sake, to see a childhood memory come springing to life in a way I'd never thought was a shock to say the least. He was almost like a soldier who'd found out how to have the joy of a child again, if you get my meaning. It was his to go throughout worlds like Narnia and give. To protect that joy that one gets when giving or being given. And it spread so far as to worlds without magic like ours, even though we twist it so.

"I've come at last. She has kept me out for a long time, but I have got in at last. Aslan is on the move. The Witch's magic is weakening."

At both mention of the Witch and Aslan I felt exactly what I wasn't supposed to. There was supposed to be a certain quiet joy at hearing that Aslan is defeating the Witch simply by being but I felt rather hollow. Like a large bell that has been touched by the wind and wishes to ring but can't quite move yet because of heaviness.

The oddness of it was enough to distract me as he started giving gifts. It wasn't until Lucy was stating she was brave enough to fight despite the fact Father Christmas meant for neither of the girls to fight in battle.

"That is not the point, but battles are ugly when women fight."

Then he turned to me, which was the last thing I expected. Jade and I were just observers, commentators, on the stories of Narnia. We weren't really supposed to get that involved. Much of our time was elbowing each other into not giving away what was going to happen next.

"Clarissa, Eve's Daughter," I stepped forward, a bit dazed by his solemn gaze, "This quarterstaff is for you to use to protect those of Narnia and whom Narnia would have you protect."

"Aren't battles ugly when women fight?" I said softly, taking the staff that I had twirled so easily on the Dawn Treader. It was cleaner, without scratches I hadn't noticed that had been there until I saw the original product. If anything, it was more beautiful than when I first saw it, back in Narnia's future (how awkward is time travel? No wonder the Doctor seems a bit insane at times). I noticed the silver I'd assumed it had been was really a mix between white and silver, gleaming dully enough to not blind me in the sun. The red inlays were of the same sort of metal, bright and yet not quite catching the sun like metal would. In my mind's eye, I remembered it being more faded.

But of course, that was the moment that I remembered my first adventure was a few thousand years in the future.

He leaned in close, something akin to sympathy in his eyes, his voice low, "You and Jaden are to see the ugliness of the world and fight it." Father Christmas held out his hand, holding something else. It brought tears to my eyes when I saw the whip that she had wielded in our first adventure.

And then, of course, I realized what he'd said. She was to fight with me. She was going to be alright. We would be side by side again, cracking jokes and (probably) heads. I had to believe this was from Aslan: only the Lion could know something like that.

The tall man stood quickly, very suddenly far less grim and he pulled out a tray of what smelled like tea.

He was off with a "Merry Christmas! Long live the true King!"

Which reminded me exactly how long Aslan was going to live.

Well, there went my good mood.

Not only had I lost complete faith in the being I'd promised to always trust (to his face) but I had been angry enough to ignore the faithful, stay completely angry, then hopeless; with the knowledge he was going to die to save Edmund (who was/would become a close friend).

I am an awful human being.

Despite the guilt that was ripping at my insides, even I couldn't help but have a good time as we went down the bank and back into the den, where we had a tea party.

I found I liked tea and hated the aftertaste. I couldn't tell if there was more tea or sugar in my cup and wondered if I would be forced to get used to the aftertaste or if I could get away with drinking apple juice or something. Also, I like honey. A lot.

"Risa, it still hasn't been clear what a Warrior Maiden is." Susan was smiling as she said it though.

I thought, tapping the rim of my cup as I tried to think. "To be completely honest, my mission isn't exactly...clear..." I couldn't tell her that it was a joke I came up with to placate Captain Drinian and Caspian and her two younger siblings. Not to mention the Mouse that taught me swordplay forever ago.

"The Warrior Maidens are protectors of Narnia." Mr. Beaver looked surprised at my ignorance. "They are loyal to Aslan above all and will not tolerate the mistreatment of his subjects. They are fierce warriors, elegant women, and-"

I started laughing, starting with a snort, before clapping my hand over my mouth. Everyone looked at me strangely, though Lucy seemed to be holding in laughter. "Sorry, sorry. I just—elegant? I am best at tripping over seemingly nothing. I am the least elegant person I know. Ever."

"You're American." Peter suddenly pointed out with shock.

Oops.

I hope I've mentioned that everything I'd spoken until now was in a fairly British accent. I also hadn't spoken much since the Beaver's house, but it had been in an accent. Apparently my snort had shoved me out of it.

"A bit, yes." It took effort to not say it in an accent again, simply because that sentence sounds better with an accent.

"But you-"

"I like accents." I shrugged, wondering if my attempt to casually sip the tea was successful.

Lucy giggled and Susan joined in after a moment.

"It isn't that funny," I felt heat spread to my cheeks and was glad that the cup hid it a bit.

"It is when it's coming from you." Lucy insisted, smiling warmly.

My head tipped to the side, "Really?"

"You are very serious." Peter agreed before taking a bite of his sandwich.

I blinked, thinking on how they'd come to that conclusion. It wasn't very hard to imagine, once I thought of how little I'd done since I'd found out Jade had been taken with Tumnus.

"Believe it or not, how I've been acting is pretty much the opposite of how I normally am. Jaden was...she's like my sister and that she's with the Witch..."

Of course I was the one that changed the mood. After a few awkward minutes as we thought on what we would have to do, Mr. Beaver cleared his throat, "Time to be moving on now."

We got up slowly, none of us wanting to really leave the safety and comfort of a den that smelled of honey and tea. But Aslan was up ahead and we couldn't not go. We gathered our things, each of us taking our gifts with this natural infinity that couldn't be anything but magic. I slung Jaden's gift over my shoulder and used the bo staff—quarterstaff—as a walking stick.

There was still a chill in the air when we left, though the snow was turning to slush as we walked on, messing up our shoes and the bottom of my dress was absolutely wrecked. But the spring was wonderful as it started to eat away at the snow and ice and cold. Slowly but surely, the cold melted into warmth and we abandoned our coats (hung on trees as if we'd remember to get them later). The way the green was both suddenly and naturally seeping into the world astounded me. After a while, it was like the leaves had been there the entire time and the world smelled of alive. The others pointed out flowers I couldn't name because I'd never learned their names properly.

After what I assumed was about two hours, noticing the weariness that was beginning to settle in I casually mentioned that the Witch could no longer use her sled. Despite my wanting to go quickly, I rested when the others rested and walked at their pace. Every once in a while I would go on ahead, my hands brushing against the trees or lightly clasping leaves between my fingers just to feel them. These were my first Narnian leaves, my first taste of a Narnian spring. There was no need for me to look ahead, if only to feel like Gandalf for a moment even though we would come to no trouble.

And then even I was sore, my feet hurting (though I didn't have a blister like poor Susan) and back hurting. I had never taken any walking trips, not really, so my body was very irritated with this crazy idea of walking a seriously long distance.

The sun was getting nearer and nearer to the horizon. To be honest, I didn't really remember this part. Jack kind of went through this part of the journey rather quickly (comparatively to his friend Tolkien, who loved the walking bits). The fact it had taken all freaking day, I had forgotten.

When Mr. Beaver said, "Not long now," I nearly cheered. He led us uphill (oh, my aching legs!) on some moss that, I noted and filed away, seemed like it would be fun to roll down if one could navigate the old trees.

Trees that were old enough that not one of us could have questioned if they were on her side, not that we actually were. I just appreciated their age, even as I came to loathe the very idea of upward slants.

When we got to the top, I decided it was worth it though.

If you hadn't thought so before, think this now: Narnia is gorgeous. You know those sweeping shots of New Zealand that they used in the movies that made us all wish even harder that our closets would open up into this land of Talking Animals? Well, even the wonderful, breathtaking landscape of those islands could not compare to looking at Narnia.

The sea glinted to the East and the trees lay before us like a sea of their own. The pavilion that sat before us was like sunlight caught in fabric and the banner proudly bearing itself in the wind was a stark contrast against the green and yellow.

The Stone Table though, struck me with dread. It was old, so old. The language would have interested me some if it had not been carved on that dour slab of stone.

But the music distracted me from my worry and we all turned to the right.

Aslan. I knew there were other, absolutely remarkable, Narnians surrounding him, but all I saw was him.

It was quite different from when I had met him during the Dawn Treader's voyage. He wasn't there like he'd been then. Here he was All King. Even if my guilt hadn't kept the desire from me, there was no way I could run up and give him any sort of hug or squeal or act the child like I had imagined this moment being.

Instead I stood behind the Pevensies, holding my quarterstaff with white knuckles. You are not supposed to be here. You are an observer. You are a protector.

Okay, I admit I was terrified. Of course Aslan would know I had been incredibly angry with him. How does someone even work with being angry at him? How did I have the nerve? He was the King of the Wood. He was Aslan.

Which was why I found it totally understandable when the children could hardly even look at him, becoming full of nerves. I normally would have found their conversation amusing but now I just found it faultless.

"Go on," Mr. Beaver whispered to Peter.

"No, you first." Peter whispered back.

"No, Sons of Adams before animals." I smiled at this, at the conviction he managed to put into his fearfully whispered words.

"Susan, what about you? Ladies first?"

"No, you're the eldest."

"That's Risa," Peter looked to me, "Risa?"

I shook my head, "I am not meant to go before the future monarchs, but I am with you."

They whispered for a few more minutes, while Aslan waited patiently. I admit to staring at him rather creepily, trying to push down my dread for the Pevensie's sake. Despite the fact they hadn't been given it in the book, I wanted them to have something solid to start with and if that had to be me. Even if I wasn't very solid at all, not in feeling and not in reality.

When Peter finally drew his sword, saying, "Come on. Pull yourselves together," I felt myself jolt to action. Oh. That's where his High Kingdom will come from. Well.

He raised his sword in salute as he walked toward the Lion. The Beavers wouldn't let me remain behind them, so I had to walk beside them, behind the prophesied king and queens. I was suddenly very aware that my hair was very uncombed, my dress very muddy and ripped (when did that happen?) in some places and my face felt droopy due to my need to fall somewhere and sleep.

"Welcome, Peter, Son of Adam. Welcome, Susan, Lucy, and Clarissa, Daughters of Eve. Welcome He-Beaver and She-Beaver."

His voice was beautiful and calmed the others down. Any jitters I had settled down but the richness of his voice made me feel worse for my anger against him.

"But where is the fourth?" Aslan asked.

"He has tried to betray them and joined the White Witch, O Aslan," Mr. Beaver tried his best to sound courtly which was a little bit adorable.

"That was partly my fault, Aslan. I was angry with him and I think that helped him to go wrong." He sounded so genuinely remorseful and the look Aslan gave him was so Aslan it was a moment that can't really described with significant words—which was one of the many reasons no one said anything else at the matter.

Instead Lucy started to plead, "Please—Aslan, can anything be done to save Edmund?"

I think it had to be Lucy. The one who would have more faith than probably anyone in Narnia had to be the one to ask for their brother back.

"All shall be done. But it may be harder than you think."

He looked sad for a moment, looking at us but not quite looking at us. The emotion was erased in a second though, but not before it shifted to me. Don'tthinkaboutitdon' .He' 'llcomeback.

He shook his mane as if it shook out any other thoughts and clapped his forepaws together (it was only strange to me, as I was so close to being an adult and knew that in our world lions didn't do the whole clapping thing), " Meanwhile, let the feast be prepared. Ladies, take these Daughters of Eve to the pavilion and minister to them."

I was surprised when I was also ushered away by the Naiads and Dryads along with the two future queens. As they started talking with their musical voices, asking which color dresses we preferred, I looked back several times to see Peter being led away by Aslan.

"Did you hear that, Risa? We're going to get new clothes!" Lucy was still more solemn than what I'd expect from a young girl her age, but there was a great deal of glee in her voice.

"We have prepared multiple dresses at Aslan's instruction." One of the Naiads said, smiling at the young princess. It's probably right to call both Susan and Lucy princess, isn't it?

And that brings me to my next though. Dresses. I wasn't as anti-dress as I had been on the Dawn Treader but I still wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of fighting in a dress, which seemed what my assignment seemed to be here.

"Would you like a similar dress to the one you are wearing now, Clarissa?" A Dryad asked tentatively, voice like the wind in the leaves and bark and ever so beautiful.

I smiled, trying to ease her nerves. I wasn't one of the Four they'd been waiting on, of course I would make them nervous. And if all they had been told was that I was a Warrior Maiden...well, I'm not sure how I felt about that.

"Something more...more lively would be wonderful, don't you think? Green and yellow, maybe some silver or something. Frankly, I'll be happy with whatever I'm given. I'm not picky."

The Dryad smiled shyly, nodding before one of her sisters distracted her with a comment on the beauty of their future queens.

I touched the whip around my shoulder lightly, looking back to where we'd just left Aslan, but they had already gone to another part of the hill.

Of course it was then that the wolves attacked. There were only two of them, but they were going right after the princesses. The Naiads and Dryads took gasps and started running, urging us to do the same. Shaking, I clutched at my quarterstaff and felt my skin try and work themselves into the inlays. I watched as Susan and Lucy ran toward their brother once more. Both wolves growled at their heels until I bashed one of them on the head with as much strength I could muster. It stumbled into some bushes but the other cut Lucy and I off from Susan, who ran toward the nearest tree, fumbling with her horn.

The sound was beautiful, by the way, despite the terror.

"Run, Lucy!" I called, though she didn't really need any direction.

I wanted to run after Susan, and started to (faltering in my steps) but I heard Aslan call out and I remembered that was exactly what I wasn't supposed to do just that. It was Peter who was supposed to save the day and as I stood there, watching Lucy run toward her brother.

He cut at the wolf snapping at poor Susan, slashing its side. The next thing we knew, it was howling at Peter and leaping at him.

For a moment I thought that my being there had changed fate because the wolf was on top of him, jerking with its head by his head and teeth still bared in a growl. Lucy screamed her brother's name and I felt everything within me drop. And then he was free, slumping a bit before he straightened his back.

Susan came down from the tree and they were instantly in each other's arms.

"Quick! Quick! Centaurs! Eagles! I see another wolf in the thickets. There—behind you. He has just darted away. After him, all of you. He will be going to his mistress. Now is your chance to find the Witch and rescue the fourth Son of Adam and second Warrior Maiden!"

There was a small hand pulling me toward Peter and Susan, where Aslan was speaking to a flustered, panting Peter, and I saw Lucy looking at me, pale and with wide eyes as the loyal army of Narnia obeyed Aslan instantaneously. I saw walking in front of us, his huge strides making more ground than us. I followed Lucy's lead, wondering if I should—

Jade!

I started to look to where the thunder of hooves and wings had gone, muscles tense as I contemplated running after them and beating those loyal to the Witch senseless.

"Peace, Warrior Maiden." Aslan's voice was soft, rumbling across the air. Lucy ripped herself out of my hand as I froze, running straight into her eldest brother and sobbing into him while worked up the nerves to soother her. I noticed as he turned to block her view of wolf. "Sir Peter," Peter jerked his head at this, face reddening, "take your sisters to the pavilion. You will find rest there as the feast is prepared. Your brother will be waiting for you when you wake."

I was very ready to go with them and try and be big-sisterly to them but Aslan had not mentioned me and was staring me in place as the three children made their way up to the camp.

"Clarissa, you have not been yourself," he rumbled, and I wondered if I could get the courage to tear my gaze from his or if I had the courage not to.

"Aslan I-" the tears starting to blur my eyes didn't give me much of a choice. I could hardly see anything at that point, my throat was working very hard on becoming thick and unusable. Most of me was hoping he would say something and everything would be okay again. It would be like I hadn't been a moron and forgot exactly who Aslan was and had gotten irrationally angry at him. We could pretend that it didn't happen, because Aslan would forgive me.

"I didn't..." I took a breathe. "I was so afraid, Aslan. Jade was with her and God only knows what that means. While I was skipping off, playing in the snow with the Pevensies, where was she? What was being done to her? And then how dare that Witch lay a hand on my best friend—one whom I call my sister. If I'd known the way I would have stormed her castle myself. And then all I could think was that you-" I choked on my words, leaning on my staff heavily from the heaviness of everything that had happened. "that you let her be taken. Somehow that turned to blame and that's just dumb because you're you. And I promised I would trust you with everything and the first time something goes wrong I blame you for it. I'm so sorry, Aslan. I was foolish a-and unfaithful and I can never make it up and-"

I finally couldn't speak anymore, all of my weight focused on the quarterstaff. It started to sink into the soft, spring ground to support me and I stared at it to find semblance of control. When I looked back up at Aslan was giving the same look he'd given Peter when he had confessed his part in Edmund's betrayal—neither accusing nor pardoning me. Forcing myself to take a deep breath I spoke a few more shaky words, "S-she'll be alright, won't she, Aslan?"

Everything about him softened and I was reminded that this King had turned into a Lamb the last time I'd seen him. He looked very sad, which was startling, considering the conversation and the question I'd just asked. "Jaden has gone through vile things, to prepare you both for what you may face in the future."

I gaped like a fish starving for water for a moment, "She shouldn't have to bear that for herself, much less me too." Aslan was closer to me now, enough that his breath was making me strong enough to find words. Why couldn't it have been me instead?

"If it had been you, would Jaden not be here, begging that she would have been in your place as well?"

And of course he knows exactly what I'm thinking, or at least feeling. Mostly likely both.

"She was all alone, Aslan!"

"She was never alone. Mr. Tumnus was there with her, and the young prince has been with her for much of the time. And was it not promised she would never be forsaken?"

The wording sent a bolt of shock through me and my eyes shot wide open. He seemed almost amused at my reaction. "I still don't...don't understand why." To my utter amazement I managed not to sound like a petulant child, the desperate edge to my voice taking that away.

"Even if I were to explain it to you in full, you would not, child. The time will come when you will understand." Aslan sounded as if the conversation was done, looking to the hill where there was a feast being prepared. It was not particularly loud, but there was definitely a joyful air to the music that was being played (string and violins and clapping and laughter in the voices that were raised as the sun was creeping toward the horizon) and I was suddenly hungry.

"When?" I managed to squeak, sniffing

Aslan chuckled softly, "When it is time."

I sighed, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand and sniffing loudly in some effort to gain control of myself. When I failed at first, Aslan let out a great sigh and the warmth of his breath cascaded through me.

"Now go."

I nodded and followed as the Lion walked up the hill, much to the joy of everyone who was handing out bowls of fruit and the smell of cooking meat for the meat eaters (some of the animals stayed far away from those spits of fire,

"Risa!"

I turned to see Lucy waving by the pavilion. I smiled and started to leave Aslan, turning to give him a short bow before running to the pavilion, nearly tripping over my dress. She held the tent open for me to get in to see Susan dressed in a light purple dress, dark blue embroidery of branches and flowers curling all over the bodice and trailing down to the skirt of the dress like vines, thinning out as they went down. Her dark hair was being braided by a willowy Dryad, a complicated weaving of hair I couldn't follow.

Lucy was wearing a simpler dark blue dress, part of the front opening to reveal a triangle of lighter blue cloth layered underneath where there was embroidery similar to that of Susan's dress decorating the cloth in a pale green. Her hair looked like gold as it fell over the dark color, shining in the light of the fire just outside the open flap and the torches that lit up the pavilion.

The next thing I knew, I was ushered to sit on one of a few chairs as another of the Dryads picked up a comb.

If you have thick hair, you will feel my pain when you remember I haven't brushed/combed/thought about my hair in the past couple of days. I'd been in a faun's house, tramping in snow, more walking in snow, slept in a tiny den, been chased by a wolf (that I hit on the head) and cried a bit. Did you know that trees snag on gnarled hair, even in Narnia? That, combined with the fact I've murdered more hair ties than I have bugs because that third loop around my hair is impossible, I knew there were about to be a few unpleasant minutes/hours. And that was after the torture it was subjected to when I thought I was going to prom and not Narnia.

Luckily, though, the Dryad put down the comb the second she saw my hair. A Naiaid came over and laughed, the sound bright and wonderful. "Is it wise to ask how your hair is much worse than our Princess's?"

"I have a knack for messing up my hair," I said sheepishly, only hesitating for a second when one of the Dryads took my staff from me to lean it against one of the cloth walls. "Sorry. If it's too hopeless, I don't mind it being sheared off."

Susan looked honestly distressed at the notion, "Oh, don't you dare Clarissa."

I blinked at her in surprise but she seemed adamant. "Of course, my lady." Susan flushed, looking at the floor. Lucy giggled, twirling in her dress.

It wasn't long until there was a warm bucket of water and I was asked to lean on a pile of cushions while my hair was washed. I admit to being a little bit irritated, mostly because someone else washing my hair freaks me out. It was bad the one time I let it happen at the hairdresser, with water running all down my neck and stuff. Yeah, it felt good because, head massage, but it was still really weird. My irritation fled, though, when they finished in less than a minute. Apparently the Naiad had some control over the water because it took seconds for my head to dry.

"Now, you said you'd like a green gown, did you not, Miss Clarissa?"

I nodded, then drew in a quick breath at the dress that was pulled out for me. It was fairly simple, which I appreciated, and the color of the new green of spring and the dark of an old, forgotten forest all rolled into one. It was shorter than the other girls', stopping at what looked like would be mid-calf, which I appreciated because moving in the dress I was presently wearing was hard enough. There was also a yellow sash being pulled from a chest, along with a silvery loop of...something. And then, to my utter glee, a pair of short leggings meant to be worn under the dress.

It wasn't until Lucy and Susan, who's hairdo had been completed while I was getting my hair cleaned, urged me to change that I did. Only my time in band had kept me from letting any insecurities get a hold of me, though most of those in the tent turned away when they saw the heat spread on my face.

I don't know what they make Narnian clothes out of, but I wished they had it in our world. The material gave enough warmth that the cool breeze of a new spring wouldn't bother me in the slightest, but neither would the inevitable warm days. And it didn't itch in the slightest.

I found out the loop was a sort of belt that would go over the sash (which I could not tie as easily as those wonderful Dryads after a hundred years of practicing).

"It's wonderful!" Susan clapped her hands and smiled as I looked down at myself.

"How does it fit so well?" I wondered, smoothing my hands over the bodice.

No one answered, probably because it didn't really matter. Except then I remembered it did because we had been told that Aslan had instructed them to prepare a few dresses, so Aslan had known our measurements?

I giggled at the thought of the Lion telling seamstresses the numbers they needed to create such beautiful gowns.

I was forced to sit again while my hair was combed and tied back in a rather simple braid and we were ushered out to see a feast in full swing.

I sat beside Lucy and Susan, the Beavers across from us, regaling the tale (with a few exaggerations that were corrected by the two young Princesses) of how we'd been found and taken here. I would glance at Aslan as much as I could, as if affirming he was there.

At some point, Peter (who was looking kind of awesome in the clothes he'd been given) mentioned that my accent was back and I only grinned, telling him I didn't know what in the world he was talking about. He looked to Susan and Lucy for help. The latter giggled and Susan, while she hesitated at first, reaffirmed what I'd said. When the future High King asked the Beavers for help, he found they'd been so involved in telling his stories that he hadn't heard our conversation.

There were laughs all around, Peter joining in after looking disgruntled for a moment.

Someone called for a toast (the fifth one that evening) and I raised my cup, full of some sort of juice, this one's for you Jade.

And that's how I end a chapter in both a touching and infuriatingly fluffy way, all the while knowing exactly what's happening to my dear friend as she's in the Witch's castle.

Whoops.

Again, I'd like to apologize, because I'm a horrible person but I'll be better, I swear!