Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia. 'Nuff said.

Author's Note: Moving right along, here we come to Chapter Eleven, and its masterfully created title, "The Commander Returns". It might start out a little slow--this isn't one of my best chapters. Enjoy! Read and Review!

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~Chapter 11: The Commander Returns~

Miraz's chamber was dark when he entered, so he ordered a servant to light the candles that were fastened to the walls by sconces. His chamber had a cold feeling, a feeling of being empty for seven years. He then told the servant to leave him alone and had his thoughts to himself. He heard the rumbling voices of a group of lords talking outside the entrance. It was common to hear such things what with the huge gap at the base of his door.

He changed into a sleeping tunic and laid down on his bed, breathing in a deep sigh. It still smelled like fresh cotton, as it always had. It was sheer pleasure to fall into a down pallet after sleeping on the ground for seven years. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply again, drifting into sleep. But thinking of the Campaign, and of his plot—he found it hard to find real sleep, no matter how tired he was.

He wondered if Sir Steiphen would return soon. The barbarians were being violently pushed back into the mountain, for Steiphen was fierce and adamant on stopping their forces completely. He had led legions upon legions of Telmarines into narrow, craggy passes through the dark, tall mountains to lay siege on a barbarian fortress, no matter how small.

"You will be thrown atop your enemy, if need be." He remembered Steiphen yelling to his troops once as they stood ready to fight the oncoming forces, his fierce, fiery eyes flashing through the ranks.

Many, including Miraz, were bloodied countless times. Miraz remembered one time when Steiphen had taken a young barbarian boy captive and had some soldiers beat him till he lay still, and then returned him to the camp. He had heard the boy's cries and the merciless sting of the whip. Miraz had watched them drag the limp body away through the camp, Steiphen coming behind them with the whip in his hand.

Steiphen was becoming fiercer and more battle-hardened, to be sure—and his grave face had gotten stonier by the day. Miraz could barely look into his eyes anymore, they were so cold and unwelcoming, even to him. He remembered how he could never meet his eyes before, when he'd just become his squire, but now they penetrated his soul even deeper, as if they knew of his plan to kill his brother, knew every crag and crevice of his darkened heart.

Did Steiphen know? He'd always felt that edge of suspicion in Steiphen's gaze. Ever since that frightening night that he had learned of the Commander's dark past, the Commander's eyes had been even more wary of Miraz than before. Thinking about the matter deeply, he hoped Steiphen would not return for a long time. He wouldn't even care were the Commander to die by the barbarian blade.

He jerked up when he heard the door open, his eyes bolting open, surprised at how close to sleep he had been. He saw a wrinkled face at the door peeking in over horn-rimmed glasses.

"Doctor Cornelius." Miraz mumbled, still rather out of sorts. He sat up fully on the edge of his bed. Cornelius squinted at him.

"Your Highness?" He entered, more bent and old than Miraz remembered. His intent, knowing blue eyes studied him. He finally grinned, laughing, and put a hand on his shoulder. Miraz looked down at his hands and not at his former tutor. He had not seen his teacher since he had decided once and for all to kill his brother, and felt guilt in the eyes of the learned man. Like Steiphen, he knew Cornelius could look at him and know what he was thinking.

"What ails you, Miraz?" Cornelius asked, concerned.

Miraz shook his head. "Nothing, sir." He murmured. "I've just—"

"What?"

"I've been gone so long."

Cornelius sat down beside him. "You have. You have." He said quietly. Miraz finally met his eyes. The ones Cornelius had known were bright and boyish, but the dark eyes that he looked into now were deep and mysterious, complex and confused, but still ambitious.

"What ever possessed my father to send me on Campaign?"

Morning came, rainy and cold like the last. If he had been a young boy, Miraz would've been patrolling the streets on that Market Day, dodging the carts that clattered down the muddy roads and watching the peasants buy foreign goods from merchants of many ethnicities. But now, Miraz was leaning his back against a terrace pillar, watching the activity in the courtyard. A few stable boys were saddling horses for lords traveling out to the backcountry that day, but other than that, the rainy courtyard was empty from any castle activity. Everyone wanted to stay within the walls of the torch-lit castle.

"Your Highness." A sharp voice said beside him. Miraz looked down to meet the eyes of the curtsying Elizabeth. Her gaze was anxious, for some reason, and her scarred hand was fingering the small gold band around her left ring finger. The leather cloak she wore around her red velvet was very stark attire compared to her powdered skin.

"Lady Elizabeth." Miraz nodded his head to her slightly.

"Have you heard the news?"

"News?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Aye." She replied quickly. "Steiphen is returning today, Your Highness."

Oh no. The exact thing Miraz didn't want to have happen! The first thing he'll do is hang a peasant, I'll reckon, Miraz thought impishly.

He tried to hide his despair from the pale lady Elizabeth. "Steiphen? Really? He seemed rather preoccupied when last I saw him."

But who was to enter through the portcullis but Sir Steiphen himself!

His eyes were bright and wide with hate and his jaw clenched malevolently. He gripped the reins of his fidgeting horse with white knuckles. Miraz knew the horse had reason to be nervous.

He wasn't as changed as Miraz was—only slightly older-looking than before, but a shadow was cast across his face nonetheless. His brow arched downward in a sloping glare. He wore a brigandine and a black tunic beneath it, the garb of a Telmarine soldier. A few officials surrounded him on horseback as well, awaiting orders. Miraz heard Elizabeth gasp at his side. He knew that she wanted to run down to him, but he also knew that that was the wrong thing to do at that moment—Steiphen looked fierce and sadistic, like he was ready to strangle someone. Miraz was surprised himself when he put a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. The lady was shaking.

"Wait." He said curtly. He slid into a shadow so he couldn't catch the eyes of Steiphen, but he listened to what the Commander said.

"Drop her." The knight stated to one of his officials. A sackcloth bundle that Miraz had not noticed before was dropped violently from the saddle of the official, and whatever was within the sackcloth was writhing and screaming. Steiphen dismounted and took out a dagger, cutting open the sackcloth—

To reveal the dirty face of a human. Miraz saw it to be a girl with large dark eyes and long black hair that was tangled and muddy. She wore a dress that used to be white and her hands were fastened tightly behind her back. Steiphen yanked her up to her feet and called to a stable boy. The stable boy approached quickly.

"Tie her up in the stables." Steiphen growled. The servant was bold enough to protest.

"But sir, she only be a girl! Can you not show her any pity?" He said, strength in his voice.

Steiphen grabbed him by his collar violently.

"Follow my orders, you incompetent fool!" He yelled. "Put her in the stables or I'll put a noose round your neck! You hear?"

The stable boy was shaking so hard he couldn't nod. He turned around to bring her to the stall, and Miraz saw his face, the dark, intense eyes - it was Glozelle, once the whipping boy. Glozelle saw him and his eyes widened, staring at him for a long time and recalling everything that had ever passed between them.

"Go, you fool!" Glozelle ripped away from the stare and hurried toward the stables.

Miraz turned to Elizabeth. The whiteness of her skin had become an unearthly ashen, and her bright eyes were wide with disbelief. She wrapped her cloak around her as if she were suddenly cold. Her mouth hung open unspeaking.

"I—I—"

"War changes people, Lady Elizabeth. I thought it best not to tell you." Miraz said quietly to her.

Elizabeth shook her head, denying that the man who'd just threatened an innocent stable boy was her husband Sir Steiphen. "He's—he's—he's become a beast!" She whispered harshly. "I'm sorry, Sir Miraz, but I'm feeling faint all of the sudden. I must lie down. Do not tell Steiphen where I am, please, I beg you, do not!" And though she was seemingly faint, she ran across the terrace and disappeared around the corner.

Steiphen was now coming up the stairs to the terrace and stopped to see Miraz nearby.

"Miraz." The prince hated how Steiphen handled the young man's name so carelessly now, as if they were close friends—which they were far from. Miraz nodded to him, but didn't speak. "Where's Elizabeth?"

Miraz shrugged. "I haven't seen her since I returned." He said, hoping his tone was believable and his facial expression wouldn't betray his lie.

Steiphen didn't look at all troubled. "She can't be far." He left without acknowledging the boy further.

TO BE CONTINUED