Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia or its characters that I am using. All belong to the great, creative mind of its author, C.S. Lewis, who belongs to the great Author. Characters such as Anea and Vostad have I created from my own imagination to entertain the reader.

Author's Note: Chapter Six! Dun, dun, dun! This chapter prods at Miraz's change of heart from the last chapter. This really shows you what kind of person his mother is too. Enjoy! Read and review!

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~Chapter Six: Family Bond~

It was the night before he would leave.

He paced the premise of his chamber slowly, his palms sweating, thinking of the world that lay ahead. He'd never been a yard out of the castle without his parents by him. The candles flickered on his troubled face. Oh, I wish Dr. Cornelius were here, Miraz thought. He would know what to do. He thought Nurse would know as well, and felt a wave of loss come over him.

He kept on thinking about what he had thought during the reading of Vostad. It had seemed like a boyish fantasy at the moment, but since then, it had grown horribly, until it had occupied all of his thoughts somehow and nearly devoured his mind. He had dreamt of it. He knew something had to be done, but did that really mean killing his brother? Yes, it did, something inside Miraz said, but at the same time, a small, timid voice said, no. There are other ways to right a wrong without bloodshed.

Right?

Someone knocked.

"Come in." Miraz looked at the door, watching as the short little professor Cornelius entered. Miraz could've exploded with joy. But the troubled look on Cornelius's face made him grimace as well.

"What is it?" He asked.

"It's your mother, Your Highness." Cornelius murmured. Before Miraz could inquire further, the doctor added, "As you know, her health is ailing, and she feels she only has one more chance to look upon your face."

The inquiring look on the Prince's face told him that he had to give more information.

"She wants you to visit her, Your Highness!"

"Oh—" Miraz stammered awkwardly. "She is in her quarters?"

"Aye."

Miraz gave a nod and exited after Cornelius. Down the big gray stone hall again. And every time he paraded down it, it seemed that he was always walking to his doom.

It was very dark in Anea's quarters when Miraz entered. Drafty too, as if a window was open—though all of them were closed at present. Miraz shut the door quietly behind him, looking at where his mother sat, bent over and frail, in a high backed chair facing the window. A single wisp of white, almost transparent, hair fell down to brush her cheek, her solemn gray eyes staring out at some unknown marvel outside in the night. Two long, wrinkled hands gripped a beaked cane. A book was in her lap.

"Mother…?" Miraz whispered, kneeling down beside her.

Anea pointed her empty, pale eyes at him. A shallow smile spread across her face and she laid a hand on his head. "Miraz! My sweet, sweet son…going off on campaign? Oh a shame, a shame. Why, Miraz? Why put such pity on a mother's heart?"

Miraz took her hand off his head and put it in his gently. "I don't want to be a boy forever, mother. I want to be a knight—even if I may not be king."

"Oh, poor boy!" Anea lamented, her shallow eyes becoming wet. For some reason, the eyes seemed cold. "Why did you have to be the youngest? You are so gentle and humble—perhaps you would've ruled better than Caspian."

A small wave of shock washed over Miraz. Did she just say…? Did she just say that she loved Miraz better than Caspian, that she thought he was better than Caspian? If his father had heard her say that…Did that mean that if he told her about how he wanted to kill his brother, she would go along with it?

"My opportunity to rule has been thwarted, mother. I cannot be born again." Miraz confirmed, half trying to convince himself and half trying to convince his mother.

"But there is a way you could become king."

This deeply shocked Miraz, taking all the blood from his hands and face as he stared wide-eyed at his mother. He was sure she had just told him to kill Caspian. Either she was terribly, terribly sick or she'd been this way all along. Miraz didn't answer to her final sentiment.

"Why so silent, my boy? My Miraz? What's wrong?" She stroked his face. Her hands were cold and pale as well. "What ails you, my son?" Her touch made him shudder.

"Nothing." Miraz gently pushed her hands off.

Her pale eyes flashed into his again. With such strength Miraz did not think she could muster she had seized his hand as lovingly as she could with such strength. "Good." She said quietly. "I wish you luck on your campaign, my dear one!"'

"I'm sorry this is our good-bye, mother." Miraz murmured. He stood up, meeting her eyes once more, then leaving.

As Miraz was walking out into the hall, he gave a huge sigh. Anea was not the mother he knew. She had openly just told him to kill his own brother. Since when was she so loving towards one and so vengeful toward the other? Since when did she pick favorites? She was always such a kind and loving woman. Miraz was sure it was the sickness, but couldn't get the thought from his head.

"So, how's Mother?" Asked a young man's voice.

Caspian!

Now fourteen, Caspian was as condescending as ever. Still as innocent and angelic as a child, Caspian was now really thought of as prince and heir and not just prince. His handsome face was looked upon reverently whenever he passed through the village on some tall, strong warhorse, done up in gold armor and chain-mail. Beside Miraz, he was like a god amongst men. And far from humble about it.

"Caspian." Miraz uttered his name, surprised by the vehemence of his voice. He looked up to meet Caspian's smug blue eyes.

Miraz remembered that he had a knife hanging on his belt. It was dark in the hall, and Caspian didn't see him unsheathe it. But he probably could see the small trickle of sweat running down his brow.

"Miraz." Caspian's cat-like voice purred. "Are you nervous about something?" He suspected something though. He saw the movement of his hand. He knew something was about.

"No…" Miraz squeaked. His voice was audibly trembling. He clenched the dagger's hilt. The voice in him saying 'yes' was getting louder and louder, making his heart pulse harder and adrenalin rush. He became slightly dizzy.

"Are you sure? You look a bit faint."

"I'm sure." He replied in a dazed fashion.

Caspian gave him an inquisitive glance. "All right…"

"Um…Caspian?"

"Aye?"

Miraz clutched it harder, preparing to strike. The yes-voice was resounding, now, shaking the caverns of his mind and crushing the cliffs of his soul like some tidal wave of conscience. His mother's words joined in the chorus. "There is a way you can become king…there is a way you can become king…there is a way I can become king!"

I can become king. I can have power. I can reign over the people. I can have riches beyond reckoning. I can become king. I can fight and win wars. I can expand my kingdom. I can rule an empire. I can become king. I can become king. I can become king. All I have to do is this one horrible thing…

"What is it, Miraz?"

Miraz let all his breath go. "Nothing, brother." He relaxed his grip on the dagger, suddenly becoming very tired. "I'm sorry. I feel rather indisposed. I think I will return to my quarters."

Caspian was still grimacing. "Very well. Farewell, brother."

"F-Farewell, Caspian."

TO BE CONTINUED