AN: There is now a trailer for this fanfic on youtube-anyone interested in seeing it can link to it from my profile.
It was an impossibly dark night. Moonless, it seemed, with precious few stars above the Lantern Waste. Thankfully, the lamppost was as bright as ever, the only warming light in the icy blackness.
Unsurely, as heavily as though her feet were made of stone, Lucy took a step forward. There was something resting under the light of the lantern, against the post-a someone, a person.
When she finally, after much shuffling and exertion, reached the poor soul resting there so wearily, Lucy studied the person to see who they were. It took a moment, since everything except for the small area around the post where the light fell was so dark that looking at it felt like being blind, but the slouching manner and dark hair under the warm yellow glow were familiar to her, so she knew him. It was Edmund.
She started to bend down to his level when she heard herself gasp. For a moment it was dark, then light again, then dark. The lamppost, the strongest light in the world, was flickering rapidly. And not just a little flicker like the once she swore she had seen when she left the western woods as a king's bride, either; a real, extinguishing flicker.
In the dark something from behind grabbed her arm and shook her. "Mother! Wake up!"
Lucy's eyes shot open. She wasn't in the Lantern Waste under a flickering lamppost; she was in her bed at Cair Paravel, where she was queen. It had only been a dream.
Above her was the worried face of her stepson, Rilian, his golden hair mussed up and his shift hanging in an untidy manner as if he had just flung it over himself haphazardly before racing into her chambers.
"What's happening?" Lucy murmured, blinking up at him.
"Cair Paravel's under attack!" cried Rilian, pulling her out of the bed and over towards the wardrobe. "Father asked me to make sure you hide in the tunnel in case something goes wrong and the enemy soldiers manage to break into the castle."
"Let me get my bow and arrows," suggested Lucy. Although she was feeling rather afraid, she was none too keen on hiding while everyone else-her stepson included-fought off whomever was attacking their home. Weren't queens supposed to defend their country?
"No!" said Rilian, half-dragging her into the now-open wardrobe by this point. "You're too young, Mother; and you've only just started learning archery."
"But-" she started to protest as he-firmly but not roughly-pushed her into the tunnel, forcing a small copper candleholder with the teeniest burning candle she had ever seen into her hands.
"Narnia cannot stand to lose another queen," Rilian whispered gravely.
"I-" she tried.
"Neither can Father."
Defeated for the time being, Lucy took a step back, swallowed grimly, and allowed her stepson to replace the rack with her still in the tunnel. Alone and frightened, her hands shook-causing a few drops of hot tallow to drop down from the candle and onto the floor, narrowly missing her bare feet.
Distantly, she could hear Rilian draw his sword and run out of her chambers, ready to fight. The battle itself must have been going on in a different part of the vast castle, for as soon as the prince was gone, Lucy heard no more of it.
Ever so slowly, the seconds became minutes and the minutes turned to hours. Queen Lucy was too tired to stand up for more than an hour, so after a while she simply found a cool, reasonably comfortable space within the gaping hole and laid down on her belly, staring into the ever-shrinking candle.
The candle was nearly gone now, little more than a useless chunk of hard-wax in a deep melted puddle, holding up the remains of a dying flame. Clearly, it was about to go out.
"Please don't go out," whispered Lucy to the candle, in a trembling, hoarse voice. "Please..." The last thing she wanted was to be in the dark on such a long night, never even knowing if her husband and stepson, or anyone else at Cair, were safe-or if they were lying dead somewhere within those endless stone passageways.
A few tears slid down her face. Hastily, without a second to lose, she put her hand over the candle to block the teardrops from turning it into a tiny ring of curling smoke.
"Lucy," said a rich, golden voice.
Wiping her damp eyelashes, Lucy looked around for the source of that wonderful voice. "Aslan?" Was it really the great Lion of Narnia? Was he there with her in the tunnel?
A beautiful blur of gold and orange was ahead of her in the tunnel, a showering bright red thing all around it that might have been a mane. It was so real that she knew she wasn't dreaming; for it was entirety different from the lamppost nightmare she'd had earlier. Yet, she couldn't see him too well since her eyes were blinded by tears and there were purple blobs swimming in front of them, dizzy from the sudden light.
"Lucy, dear heart, you're tired," said the voice, "sleep a while."
She shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. "I can't, there's a raid...and my candle-"
"Shh...sleep..." a warm Lion-breath fell upon her face, warming it and relaxing her muscles. "...Courage, dear one."
Still hovering in the air as she yawned and lowered her head, the magical breath touched the flame and made it burn brighter than ever. Through half-closed eyelids, Lucy tried to see Him, but she saw, much to her surprise, a lovely snowy-white albatross with glowing amber eyes and a golden beak. Then, a little smile spreading across her now-dreamy face, she began to sleep soundly-a deep slumber with no dreams.
A couple of hours after dawn, Lucy heard a sigh and felt herself being lifted up and carried. Opening her eyes, she saw that it was Caspian, having found her in the tunnel, returning her back to her chambers now that it was safe. Behind him, Rilian was picking up the dried-wax-filled candleholder that had been at her side all through the night.
When they saw she was awake, they began to talk to her, telling her that everything was well again.
"But who attacked us?" Lucy wanted to know, gazing in a puzzled manner at her husband and stepson, wide-eyed as the king set her down in a cushioned chair by the unlit fireplace.
"An army from a small island off the cost," Rilian told her. "They aren't dreadfully important, or bright for that matter, mostly pirates-all those swords and gleaming silver shields they had on them were stolen as likely as not. But you needn't worry, Mother, Father and his knights gave them such a marvelous licking! I don't suppose they'll be returning any time soon. Wicked things!"
"Was it," asked Lucy uncertainly, "one of the Lone Islands?"
Caspian shook his head. "Surely you remember the Lone Island are loyal to us. They wouldn't be stupid enough to revolt by a night-attack, not with what they owe us. Think smaller, less wealth, more stubborn, half-drunken louts with too much time on their hands."
"Everyone's all right?" Lucy double-checked as a dryad serving-maid walked in and handed the queen a silver mug of piping-hot tea.
"As far as we've been able to determine, yes," explained Caspian.
"We're having everybody counted to be sure, but there doesn't seem to be any cause for worry as of yet." Rilian put in.
Seeing how pale and grave his little wife still looked, Caspian gently moved a lock of her hair over one shoulder and said, "If you are worried about your brother, sweetheart, you needn't be. He was fighting at my left side-Rilian at my right-for most of the raid. I can assure you that Sir Peter Wolf's Bane is uninjured."
"You've seen him this morning?" said Lucy, just to be sure.
He nodded. "Less than twenty minutes before I came to see you."
She breathed a sigh of relief and took a long, satisfying gulp of her tea. What she wanted, also, was to ask about Sir Edmund, but before she had a chance, Rilian and Caspian both had a meeting with their exhausted army to attend to, and left her for the time being.
Later, in the late morning, as Queen Lucy wandered the corridors near the areas of the castle she knew the best, trying to find out details about the night before from passing servants and courtiers, she saw Caspian and a few anxious-looking fauns hurrying along, running towards one of the west towers.
Spying Trumpkin standing close by, watching the whole thing, Lucy asked him what was happening.
"Oh, they found a boy badly injured in north-west tower." said Trumpkin, in a deep, mournful tone.
"What was he doing there?" asked Lucy.
"Best they can figure," Trumpkin shook his head; "is that the lad was fighting in the raid last night-probably on one of the narrow balconies that hang over the courtyard-and was stabbed in the stomach with a sharp object."
"But," Lucy's brow crinkled, her face clouded with confusion, "how did he get into the tower, then?"
"The knights can only assume the door was open and he flung himself into it, kicking it closed behind him."
"Clever of him," Lucy couldn't help mulling with deep admiration. If out of fear the boy had simply thrown himself to the ground and done nothing else, whoever wounded him would have simply finished him off.
"Very," agreed Trumpkin.
"Will he be all right, do you think?" said Lucy quietly, wondering how old the poor dear was-no one seemed to know.
The dwarf shrugged his shoulders.
"That poor boy," whispered the little queen to herself as she walked away. "Aslan bless him."
Lucy was still wondering about the boy, hoping that Caspian, Rilian, and the royal physicians would be able to help him, that afternoon as she watered the plants in her chambers.
Shortly after Caspian had given her permission to adjust the chambers to her liking, Lucy had seen the talking moles that tended to the gardens carrying around a few pots of pretty red-and-pink drooping flowers, and requested some for herself. The colourful plants made the fact that the rest of the chambers remained blue a little easier to bear up with. She even thought it made the blue shades seem more likeable, since they were a sharp enough contrast to them. Most of all, though, Lucy simply liked them because they were something to care for and look after, something that was hers; she had complete control over their fates, and-after all she'd been through-she rather liked knowing that.
"Love lies bleeding," said Rilian, sliding in through the slightly ajar left door.
"What?" said Lucy, turning her head to stare at him with her nose wrinkled, but still making sure to keep holding up the watering can until the plant was all set.
"The flowers," Rilian gestured down at the gold-rimmed porcelain pots.
"What about them?"
"That's what they're called: Love lies bleeding."
Touching three petals tenderly with her pinky finger, Lucy shook her head. "The moles told me they were called amaranth."
"That's another name for it." he explained.
"Oh." said Lucy, lowering the watering can now and placing it down on the floor by the window.
"You're keeping them up nicely." said Rilian kindly.
"Thank you, son. If you don't mind my asking, how is the boy they found in the tower?"
Rilian's expression changed dramatically. "Not well, Mother, his wound may be fatal."
At the word 'fatal', something inside of Lucy snapped, and she rushed over to the spot under her mattress where she'd recently taken to hiding the diamond flask of magic cordial her husband had given her.
Seeing the little bottle twinkling in her hands, Rilian understood what she wanted to do and shook his head. "You mustn't; it's only for emergencies."
"But this is an emergency," she protested desperately, feeling strangely panicked though she wasn't sure why. "You yourself just said it could be fatal."
"Mother, may the Lion bless your loving heart," said Rilian; "but if we gave a drop to every knight that ever rested on death's door-"
"Knight?" gasped Lucy, taking a step back, clutching the flask with both hands now. "What knight?"
"Oh, didn't they tell you? The boy isn't so young as they took him for at first, and he's one of our knights."
"How do you mean?"
"Just what I said; he's a knight of Narnia-his sister's identified him and everything."
Feeling the blood drain from her face, her heart pounding like a drum, Lucy asked, "What is the knight's name?"
Rilian thought hard for a moment, trying to remember. "The new one, Mother, Edmund something...oh, that's right, Sir Edmund Philippe. I say, he comes from your village, doesn't he? Didn't you know him?"
The floor under her feet shook, the room spun; a weaker-natured young woman would have thrown-up or fainted; indeed, Lucy almost felt like doing so herself, but she couldn't stand still long enough to go about it. Long before her tear-stained vision cleared, long before the walls of the chamber stopped going round and round, she was at the double doors, running out into the corridor.
"Mother!" cried Rilian, breathlessly, as he chased after her. "Where are you going?"
"To the tower to see Edmund!"
Quick as lightning he reached out and grabbed her arm. "He's not there anymore, they've surely taken him away by now."
"Oh, Aslan," sobbed Lucy, nearly losing it completely. "Where is he?"
"There's nothing for you to do, come back to your chambers and rest for a bit-you've had a shock." With this, Rilian tightened his grip on her arm and tried to pull her back down the corridor.
"Let me go!" screamed Lucy, shaking her arm free.
"Mother, calm down, you're not thinking right-" The prince jumped in front of her, blocking her way.
"Rilian, I'm not crazy, get out of my way!" Lucy shouted in a tone he had never heard her use before; a tone he hadn't known she was even capable of using.
Most likely he would not have moved and, being bigger and stronger than his stepmother was, would have over-powered her and forced her to go back, convinced she was not in her senses. Thankfully, however, her shouting was heard by a knight coming down that way; and that knight happened to be none other than her own brother, Sir Peter.
"Move aside, Your Highness." At times Peter could have a very commanding voice that made a person think twice before disobeying him, even if that person was the prince of Narnia. This was one of those times.
"Sir Peter-" he began to protest, his voice wavering.
"Trust me," he said curtly, not because he was trying to be harsh in his manner of speaking to the prince, rather because he understood his sister's desperation; "she needs to see him."
Blinded by another round of tears falling so endlessly that the collar of her dress was starting to feel a bit damp, Lucy allowed Peter to take her hand, move her around Rilian, and lead her down long corridor after long corridor until they came to the room where Edmund had been laid out.
As soon as she saw him, Lucy felt like she was scarcely able to breathe. Edmund looked absolutely dreadful. His face was a nasty green colour, his eyes were glazed and half-closed, and there was a graciously-sized blood stain seeping through the bandages wrapped around his bare middle. The doublet and shift he had been wearing were tossed onto a chair on the far right side of the room under the little red brick-lined window, and they were all covered in dark, caked-on, dried blood.
His lips trembled as though he was trying very hard to say something.
Susan, who had been standing next to the chair, grabbed a small skin-bottle and poured a few drops of water into his mouth, mistaking his muttering for thirst.
Edmund immediately began to choke and wheeze, causing the flustered, blood-shot eyed faun physician to lift him up half-way and slap his back until he spat up the water.
"Sorry, Ed." croaked Susan, hoarsely, looking ghostly pale.
"Edmund!" cried Lucy from the doorway, running to him.
His head turned and the corners of his mouth curled up ever so slightly as he recognized her.
The genuine warmth in his eyes made Lucy want to throw her arms around his neck and hold on tightly and never let go. Needless to say, she did not notice her own husband standing close-by the physician.
The little queen's hands shook as she removed the gleaming dark-gold stopper from the diamond flask, leaned over the bed, and ever so speedily let a single drop of the cordial fall into her childhood companion's open mouth.
Instantly, Edmund felt his stomach wound beginning to heal and his thoughts became less muddled, his sight clearer as well.
But before Lucy could see what effects the cordial would have on him-if it would save him-Caspian cleared his throat in an almost-stern manner and said, "Lucy, come into the corridor, I will have a talk with you."
Forgetting that the man speaking to her was both her husband and the king of Narnia, Lucy snapped, "Yes, that's fine, wait a minute!" in a very cross-sounding voice, peering down hopefully at Edmund's face.
"Now, Lucy." King Caspian's tone didn't waver, but his pitch was lowering itself bit by bit.
Sighing, Lucy followed him out of the room.
"Lucy," he groaned, rubbing his temples, "what did I tell you about the cordial?"
"I had to help him," she whispered, looking up into her husband's eyes pleadingly.
"He was a friend of hers from back home," said a voice from the side. It was Peter, having followed them out, leaving Susan behind with Edmund, sticking his oar in once again. "Your Majesty would never leave Lord Drinian hanging out to dry."
Lord Drinian was one of King Caspian's closest friends.
As the king let out a sigh, Lucy noticed that he hadn't actually been all that angry to begin with, and that just then he had been won-over completely.
Reaching out, Caspian patted his little wife on the cheek and said, "I suppose we can let it go just this once, then, can't we?"
Lucy smiled and curtsied, taking in the traces of a wink twitching in the corner of his left eye.
When she and Peter entered the room again, Susan was smiling, clinging to Edmund's hand as if he were a small child in her care, and Edmund himself was looking very well. The knight's face was its normal colour again, his eyes were bright and focused and opened all the way, and the bandages had been removed from his middle because there was no wound there for them to cover up anymore.
Delighted, Lucy rushed to his side and, in a low voice so that no one else could hear, he asked her if she could get out into the apple orchard again as she had done that one time before.
Glancing both ways, certain that not even Peter was aware of what Edmund had just said, she nodded yes.
AN: Yes, if anyone is wondering, "Love lies bleeding" is a real flower-I didn't make that up. Look it up on google images if you don't believe me.
Please review!