Author's Note: Hey guys! I'm sorry for the late update. My muse has been nagging me to work on this story, but my insane work schedule hasn't given me a lot of opportunity to sit down and write. Fortunately the holidays are approaching, which means that there will be several nice long breaks coming up - and since I'm a substitute teacher, I get to take advantage of them as much as the kids do! *grin* With luck, I'll have another chapter up very soon.

Oh, and just a shameless begging moment here - I recently posted a companion piece/sequel to my story "Suffer With Him" which is entitled "Cast No Blame", and it has yet to recieve any reviews...if you are in the mood for a brotherfic (my first!) mosey on over there and drop me an encouraging word or two! *drops to knees and begs*

Now, on with the story!

Chapter Twenty-two: Complications

The commotion from up above had proved to be exactly what he needed. It had distracted the creature guarding him long enough for him to slip the thin-bladed knife out from between the leather and the hard sole of his boot. Larez had not risen to commander of the scouts, second only to General Glozelle, by not always having a trick up his sleeve.

Once he had the tiny knife in hand, he sat back and waited for the commotion to die down. These monsters would likely be far more alert if there was a disturbance in progress, and it would be harder to slip out unseen. Even though he had been captured, when he got out of here he would have plenty to report to General Glozelle and Lord Miraz. These Narnians were fools – stupid as well as evil and monstrous. Oh, they had treated him kindly enough, seeing to it that his wounds were treated and that he was given food – no doubt in an effort to try to make him believe that they weren't evil – but they had not fooled him. They had not bothered to blindfold him while they were walking him down to the small makeshift cellar they were using to imprison him, so he had seen the entire layout of their so-called fortress. Nor had they tortured him for information. In fact, after they had tried to interrogate him outside when he was captured, he hadn't seen a sign of the traitor Caspian or the children who claimed to be Narnia's kings.

Slowly, carefully, he began sawing through the rough rope that bound his wrists together. The angle was awkward, since he had to keep the motion small and unobtrusive to avoid the attention of the guard. He shuddered every time the beast laid eyes on him. Such a monstrous creature, with the upper half of a man, and the lower half of a hairy goat. How could anything so deformed be anything but evil?

It took quite some time, but he finally managed to cut through his bonds. He hid the tiny blade between the palms of his hands, waiting for the right moment. His blade was so small, he was only likely to get one chance at this.

The guard moved close and made a quick glance over his bonds, and Larez was careful to make it look like he was still bound. Proving its foolishness once again, the guard didn't actually bend down to check the ropes. As soon as the beast turned around to resume its post near the door, Larez brought his feet up and used the blade to cut through the bonds around his ankles in one swift stroke. He jumped to his feet and lunged at the half-man just as it started to turn.

There was a brief struggle, but Larez had his knife and he didn't give his captor a chance to get it's weapon free from the sheath it wore. He drove the tiny blade deep between the guard's shoulders, staggering it, before yanking the blade back and stabbing again at the back of the neck. The blade sank through the skin and Larez twisted the knife before jerking it to the side.

The guard fell silently to the floor, still breathing, but unmoving, even though only a little blood came from the wounds. Larez, however, didn't care what happened to the monster. If it was fortunate, he would have hit something vital, and it would die soon enough. If it wasn't that fortunate, he probably severed it's nerves and it would simply lie there on the floor, paralyzed, until someone – most likely the next guard – came along and found it.

Larez bent down and removed the sheath from around the monster's waist, belting the short sword around his own waist. He wasn't going to try to fight his way out of here, but if he was left without a choice, he would act quickly and decisively. He was a scout, so he had no doubt that he could make it out of here without being seen. He hurried to the doorway and peered out into the corridor. There was no one out there, but he knew that wouldn't be the case as he got closer to the entrance.

Above all, he had to get back to the castle and report to Lord Miraz and General Glozelle. He knew where the Narnian resistance was based, and with that information, they could get rid of the beasts once and for all.

Peter moved through the corridors with a determined stride, in search of Caspian. They needed to settle things between them, so they could finish making plans. As much as it pained Peter to admit it – even to himself – his pride and his arrogance was what had damaged the tentative friendship between them, so it was Peter who would have to make the amends.

He finally found Caspian and Doctor Cornelius sitting on a ledge above the main entrance to the How. They were talking quietly, but they fell silent when they saw him standing in the doorway leading back into the How.

"Caspian, we need to talk," Peter said softly, coming out onto the bridge and taking a seat near Caspian, with his feet dangling over the ledge. It was quite an undignified position for Narnia's High King, but at the moment, he didn't give a whit about dignity or appearances.

"I suppose we do, King Peter," Caspian agreed.

An awkward silence fell between them before Peter broke it by clearing his throat. "I owe you an apology, Caspian. I said things that were hurtful and cruel to you – and I had no right to do so. They were unbecoming of my station, and all I can say is how sorry I am, and hope you will forgive me."

Caspian was dumbstruck for several seconds. The High King of Narnia was apologizing to him? When it was he, Caspian, who had done the worst wrong? Caspian sputtered for a moment, and tried to put some of that into words. "But…High King Peter…if anyone is owed an apology, it is you. I was too rash and impulsive and I didn't stop to think. I have done a poor job of leading your people, but I didn't want to admit it." Now he looked sheepish. "I am a prince – but in name only. I don't have any of the skills needed to become a King."

"And you think that is wrong?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow as memories of his own first year as a King surfaced. He had known less than Caspian, but it had all worked out thanks to good tutors and wise advisors.

"How can I be expected to lead well, if I don't have the skills?" Caspian asked, his tone incredulous. "I would be lucky if I wasn't overthrown in the first year."

"The Narnians would never do such a thing, unless you were a tyrant on the same scale as your uncle or the White Witch," Peter assured him. "But it would probably surprise you to know that Susan, Edmund, Lucy, and I were all in the same situation when we were first crowned, wouldn't it?"

Peter's words apparently shocked Caspian again. It seemed to be a perpetual state for the prince. "But – but King Peter! Your skills as a leader and a warrior are renowned!" Even Cornelius looked surprised at Peter's admission.

"I know what the Chronicles say about us," Peter told him gently. "They were written up before we were aware of what the historians – most of whom did not fight with us against the Witch – said about us. They claim that we were four royal children from the land of Spare Oom, but that we were not directly in the line of succession, so Aslan called us to serve Narnia instead."

Cornelius and Caspian both nodded in agreement at the way Peter had neatly summarized the Chronicles from their time. Peter chuckled and shook his head wryly. "The Chronicles weren't shown to us before they were written, and by the time we realized what they said, it was too late to go back and have them changed without causing mass confusion among the Narnians. The truth, Caspian, is that before Aslan called us here, we were four ordinary, common children. We had no tie to our monarchs, and we had never seen King George. We knew absolutely nothing about ruling a country, commanding an army, or dispensing justice. We had less than a day of training before we confronted the Witch and her army at Beruna."

Peter realized that he wasn't exactly reassuring Caspian. It was apparent in the way the prince's eyes widened and the way his features paled so dramatically. It had been easier for the prince to assume that they had been trained to rule from a young age, which made their legendary status more bearable. But to learn that they were in a worse position than Caspian had been – and had done so much as a result – that made them even more legendary in his eyes.

"But how?" Caspian asked softly. "How did you become so good so quickly?"

"We learned, Caspian. We had very good tutors, and wonderful advisors. All the Narnians were so glad to be free of the Witch, and they were unbelievably patient with us while we fumbled our way through the first six months of our rule. But we didn't really become comfortable until we had been ruling for a full year. Handling delicate negotiations and routine disputes became easier with time and practice," Peter told him with a smile.

Silence fell between them while Caspian digested that concept. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he thought about what Peter was saying – and after a moment his expression brightened. Knowing what he now knew – that the Kings and Queens had once been in the same position he was, and had formed their legend over time helped him relax, because he didn't have to try to live up to their reputations right away.

Peter's smile faded. "I forgot how hard it was in the beginning for us, Caspian and I should have realized that you would probably know less about ruling than we did." He took a deep breath. "It was wrong of me to confront you and strip you of your right to lead the Narnians."

"I understand, King Peter," Caspian said sincerely. After a moment, he extended a hand, which Peter accepted readily. "There's no time for friction between us."

"Agreed," Peter replied.

Caspian lowered his hand, but regarded Peter seriously. "I do want to apologize for what happened at the Stone Table, with the Witch. I didn't know what Nikabrik was planning. I was only trying to help."

Peter shivered again at how close they had come to resurrecting the Witch. Caspian noticed and frowned. "I hate to ask, but I don't know much about the Witch, King Peter. What happened that would make it so bad to have her back?"

Peter stared at him in shock. "You don't know how she almost destroyed Narnia?"

Caspian shook his head. "All I know is that she was defeated by you and your siblings."

"You must understand, Your Majesty. Narnia is a forbidden subject," Cornelius said quietly. "Lord Miraz forbade any mention of it after the death of Caspian the Ninth. What little I've been able to teach the Prince I had to do in extreme secrecy, knowing that I would be imprisoned or killed if I was caught. All I could do was give him a brief overview and occasionally ask him to help in my research."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. He was silent for several moments, before he turned back to Caspian. "Jadis is the one thing that I wish I could bury forever. She nearly destroyed Narnia, and almost killed Edmund and I. Even the memory of her is evil."

He fell silent for several minutes as a myriad of expressions crossed his face. Finally he spoke. "A hundred years before we entered Narnia, Jadis cast a powerful spell across the land. It was a spell of deep winter and deep despair, and drained the Narnians of their hope. With the land ensorcelled, she called together the foulest, evilest creatures in the land and used them to enslave all the good and loyal Narnians. For one hundred years, Narnia was the land of eternal winter – but never was it Christmas, because the love and hope of the holiday would weaken her spell."

"And she tyrannized the Narnians for a hundred years?" Caspian asked, astounded at the thought.

Peter nodded grimly. "It came out later that the Witch was immortal through some deep magic or sorcery. Only Aslan had the power to kill her, but only at the appointed time."

"Appointed time?" Caspian and Cornelius asked together.

"For the longest time, there were two prophecies that foretold the Witch's defeat," Peter said. "I don't know when or where they first originated, but the loyal Narnians remembered them and clung to them, while Jadis feared them and tried to thwart them." Before either of his listeners could ask, Peter continued. "'When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone, sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done.' That prophecy was the one that referred to my siblings and I. The second went, 'Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes into sight. At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more. When he bears his teeth, winter meets its death, and when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.'"

He fell silent for several seconds, remembering the power and the confidence that had filled him the first time he heard Aslan's name spoken by Mr. Beaver. "Lucy was the first one to find Narnia, where she met Mr. Tumnus the Faun. He told her about the Witch, and helped her get away safely." He chose not to mention how close Tumnus had come to turning Lucy over to the Witch. Like Edmund's betrayal, it was a subject that had long been forgiven and buried. "Edmund followed Lucy into Narnia the next time, but he wasn't so fortunate. He actually met the Witch and chose to side with her."

"King Edmund? He who was named the Just, sided with the Witch?" Cornelius exclaimed. Caspian looked equally shocked.

"He later rejoined us before the battle against her army," Peter explained. "It came out later that she had enchanted him by offering him food and drink and acting kindly. She wanted to use him to lure all of us to her castle so she could kill us and avert the prophecy she feared so much, especially when she learned there were four of us. Later, when all four of us entered Narnia together, Edmund slipped away to join her, but he realized how evil she was and was taken prisoner. He was rescued by Oreius and several of the others, but…"

"But?" the two listeners chimed together.

"She was still determined to stop the prophecy, so she came to Aslan's camp and demanded Ed's blood, since he was a traitor."

Caspian looked confused. "Why did that matter?"

Peter exhaled slowly. "The Deep Magic, set forth at the Dawn of Time by Aslan's great father, the Emperor-Over-The-Sea, stated that the blood of any traitor belonged to the Witch for sacrifice. If she made a claim against the blood of one who had committed an act of betrayal and was refused, all of Narnia would be overturned and destroyed in fire and water. We didn't know what to do, and all I could think was to challenge the Witch for Edmund's life, even though I had never held a sword in my life prior to that time."

He shivered again, remembering her cold gaze and her mocking words as she stared at him, confident that Aslan could not refuse her claim without destroying everything he claimed to love. "Aslan took the Witch aside and spoke to her at length. Much later, we learned that he had struck a bargain with her. He offered himself in Edmund's place, and she renounced her claim on Ed. That night, she killed Aslan on the Stone Table, thinking that she could then kill the rest of us and claim Narnia forever. What she didn't know was that by killing Aslan, who was a willing, innocent victim, she invoked a Deeper Magic. For the blood of a willing innocent, sacrificed in the place of a traitor broke the hold of the Deep Magic and turned back death. Aslan was resurrected the next morning, and he, Susan, and Lucy freed all the Narnians that she had turned to stone and brought them to our aid. We had met her army in battle that morning, but we were barely holding on. Ed had managed to break her wand, but she stabbed him with the shards and almost killed him – would have, if it hadn't been for Lucy's cordial.'

"But you killed her in the end," Caspian said admiringly.

Peter shook his head. "Aslan killed her, as the prophecy said, 'When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death.' We were crowned after the battle, and ruled for fifteen years. Our legend wasn't formed in a day, or even a year. We simply did what Aslan asked of us, and were blessed because of it. The same will be true of you, Caspian."

The prince was silent for several seconds, before he looked at Peter in surprise. "You mean –"

"I mean I don't hold you to blame, Caspian. As for whether or not you'll rule Narnia remains to be seen. Not because I don't believe you can do it, but because I don't know who will inherit," Peter explained.

"I don't understand," Caspian admitted, puzzled.

"The woman who arrived with King Cor's army was my wife Krisalyn, and it turns out that Aislynn is my daughter," Peter told him. "I also don't know what Aslan intends for my siblings and I. We need to finish this and speak to Aslan before we discuss succession of rule."

Caspian nodded, although given the surprised look on his face, which Peter expected would soon be permanently affixed there, he hadn't known that Aislynn was Peter's daughter. After a moment he recovered his poise and held out his hand to Peter again. "Friends?"

Peter clasped it. "Friends." He released Caspian's hand and stood up. "We need to rejoin the Council and help plan the defense."

"Lead on, King Peter," Caspian responded, rising to his feet and turning to help his tutor rise."

Krisalyn moved through the passages of the How, following the directions that she had been given by one of the Narnians. In her hands she carried a makeshift tray with a meal for the Telmarine scout they had captured and his guard. She had volunteered to bring the food down to the prisoner so that the Narnians in charge of the food supply could continue preparing meals for the rest of the gathered group.

Even though she hadn't walked through the passages and caverns of the How for twenty-five years, she found that the apparently complicated system was quite easy to navigate, although invaders would no doubt be baffled, making them easy targets. She hadn't been here very much during the construction of the How, and she had not seen the finished product before the Telmarines invaded, but she had studied the plans of the layout extensively.

As she approached the small room that had been designated a holding room for the prisoner, Krisalyn frowned. She had been told that the guard would be stationed standing in the doorway, guarding the passage and the prisoner simultaneously. Yet no one was visible as she approached.

Her steps slowed and she hesitated. Where was the guard? "Hello?" she called, wondering if the guard was inside the room checking the prisoner's bonds.

There was no answer to her query, and Krisalyn paused long enough to set the food tray on the ground, her hand falling to the dagger Cor and Oreius had insisted that she carry on the trip from Anvard. She withdrew the sharp blade from its sheath before she moved forward.

She knew that she should probably go for help rather than put herself at risk in this fashion, but if the guard was hurt or bleeding he might die before she could get back with help. She couldn't imagine how the guard could have been wounded, with the prisoner securely tied and disarmed, but there was always a chance.

She moved carefully to the doorway and looked in. The small room was completely open to her gaze, no shadows or nooks concealed from her sight. The very first thing she saw was the guard lying face down on the rocky ground, and the pile of cut rope lying less than a foot away. Of the prisoner, there was no sign.

Krisalyn moved swiftly to the guard's side and knelt beside him. She noted the two puncture wounds at the back of his neck and in his back. He didn't seem to be breathing, but she felt for a pulse nonetheless. No steady beat – indeed, no beat at all – met her probing fingers.

Peter and the others needed to know about this right away. The prisoner has escaped and the guard was dead. She rose to her feet, but paused and bowed her head. "Aslan, receive him into your country."

There was nothing more she could do for the guard. Turning, she sheathed her dagger and hurried out of the room and up the passage, leaving the tray behind. There was no time to stop and pick it up, or to return it.

Winding her way through the tunnels, she was careful to keep a calm, serene expression on her face. There was no point in instigating a mass panic among the Narnians or their allies. She had no doubt that the prisoner had already escaped, since most of the passages leading to the prison room had only one entrance, and she hadn't met anyone as she was coming down.

She quickly found the small side cavern which was being used for the war council's meetings. She stopped at the door and peered inside, seeing everyone bent over the maps that were spread out over the makeshift rock table. Krisalyn scanned the assembled group until her eyes rested on Peter, bent over the maps with Edmund, Cor, Corin, Caspian, and Oreius. The rest of the Council were listening to what they were discussing, or discussing troop deployments, supplies, or scouting reports.

"Peter."

All eyes looked up at the soft call, and there was a hasty scramble as those who were seated on logs or small boulders rose to their feet out of respect for one of their Queens. Those already standing, like Oreius or Tumnus, quickly bowed.

Peter's head had risen at the sound of his name and he rounded the table to move towards her. "Kris? What is it?" Her calm serenity didn't fool him – he knew her far too well.

"Something terrible has happened," she said, feeling the pressure of every eye on her as she spoke. She had wanted to just tell Peter, but she hadn't thought everything through – most unusual for her and a sign that she had been rattled, not only by Peter's presence, but by the discovery of the dead guard. She moved towards Peter and met him halfway across the room.

"Something terrible?" Peter repeated, reaching out and taking her hands to draw her close. She pulled back just before he drew her into a embrace, but didn't withdraw her hands.

"I volunteered to take food to the prisoner and his guard," Krisalyn said. "When I got down there I found the guard dead and the prisoner missing."

Peter's expression sharpened. "Larez escaped?"

Krisalyn nodded. "Some time ago, I would guess. The guard was cold when I checked on him."

"Damn," Peter swore softly – most unusual for him. One of the things that she had always admired about him was his dignity and his calm demeanor. His temper was slow to rouse, but once he was provoked past all reason, it was a frightening thing to see. Even when he was most angry however, the High King rarely indulged in vulgarity, as if he believed that it was unbecoming someone of his station and stature. "He'll have information about the How and our numbers, which will give Miraz better intelligence."

"We'll start a quiet search for the prisoner," Edmund said, coming over to where Peter and Krisalyn stood together. "If we're fortunate, the number of passages and people in the How will make him more cautious and we can catch up to him before he gets out."

Peter nodded and with that Edmund slipped out of the room, calling for several guards as hr went. There would only be a few guards looking for Larez. He would have to stick to the quieter areas of the How if he hoped to remain free. A few searchers could accomplish the task faster than if the entire army was alerted.

Peter looked back at his wife. "Are you all right, Krisalyn?" She seemed pale and tired, not her usual vibrant self and certainly not the amazing woman he remembered so clearly. The expression on her face was somewhat shaken, but calm – but it was just another sign of the differences between who she was now and who he remembered her being.

She managed a half-hearted smile before withdrawing her hands from Peter's grasp. "I'm fine, Peter. I'm sorry I interrupted."

"Don't be, Kris," he told her softly, wanting to reach for her again, even though the whole situation was suddenly very awkward. Touch was his way of showing affection for the people he cared about, but now things were different between him and Krisalyn.

Despite his memories of having been with her, kissing her, and touching her, that had been when he was an adult. Such contact was natural and expected between two married adults, but now he was sixteen again, and she was fifty-six. The sudden physical differences in their ages made any contact awkward and uncomfortable, and it always would, even if he and his siblings got to stay in Narnia for years again.

Peter was suddenly struck with the memory of what Edmund had said to him back in England. "Peter, you're also making a big assumption…that Kris would revert back to being sixteen right along with you."

In all his hoping, dreaming, and longing to be back with his wife, he had not stopped to think about Krisalyn continuing to age, despite Edmund's reasoning. Even if they had returned to Narnia right away – if they'd been able to step through the wardrobe and hardly any time would have passed – Krisalyn would still be in her thirties and Peter would still be sixteen again. The relationship that they had had in their past had been forever changed by their new circumstances.

Peter swallowed back a sudden lump in his throat as he realized that no matter what happened in the near future, things would never be the same again for him and Krisalyn.