Author's Note: *pants tiredly* Whew. I think this is the single longest chapter that I've written for this story in some time. I totally wasn't planning on it going in the direction that it did, but once again my silly muses grabbed hold and wouldn't let go. I think I'm finally back in the rhythm of the story again (and of course, we're getting to the good parts) so the next chapter should come much sooner. Thanks to all of you who have stuck around with me this long. Hold on to your hats, because from here on out, it's going to get rough!
Oh, and I hope the middle section doesn't confuse anyone too badly. I split the flashback into two sections, both to show a time lapse in the scene (even though in my twisted world it all occured on the same day) and also to break up the action a bit. So don't be too confused! I promise, nothing is wrong with your computer or my formatting.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Challenges
Edmund and Susan stood out in the corridor with Lucy while their brother talked with his wife and daughter about Peter's plan. They felt badly for their older brother, who had to be in a difficult position. While they all tried to look out for each other as much as they could, Peter had always felt that it was his responsibility, as the eldest, to protect them as if he was their father. Ever since their father had gone off to fight in the war, Peter had had to step forward to help their mother raise them. It had been a hard transition at first, but they had quickly come to realize that Peter only wanted what was best for them.
Now, Peter was faced with having to send Lucy, their youngest, sweetest sister – the one who had rarely fought and almost never seen the horrors of war – right out into the middle of the war zone where she would be in danger. Even worse, he now had to choose whether or not he would also be sending his daughter out along with Lucy, in a desperate gamble that may or may not help them win the war. Both of them knew how important family was to Peter, since it was just as important to them. But for Peter it was different. He had been an older brother and a surrogate father for years, as well as being a husband and a prospective father to his own child.
"Lucy, are you sure that you want to do this?" Edmund asked, reaching out and laying a hand on her shoulder. "There's still time to come up with a new plan."
"No there's not, Ed. I agree with Peter on this one. I'm the best choice to go. All three of you are going to be needed to lead the battle."
Before Edmund could respond, the small wooden door that separated them from the room where Peter was talking with his family eased open and Aislynn slipped quietly out of the room. She pulled the door closed behind her and turned to face them. "King Peter – my father – has given me permission to accompany you, Queen Lucy, if my presence would be of any use."
Lucy hesitated for a moment, before she nodded. "I would appreciate your help Aislynn."
"Lucy…" Susan tried, before she trailed off, unsure what she was going to say. What could she say to her sister and her niece? Both of them were mature enough to know what they were capable of doing, and they both knew how to take care of themselves, and they had the right to make their own decisions.
"Susan." Lucy replied, her tone even and determined.
Susan sighed. There was nothing that she could say that would convince her sister not to do this. Peter was right. It was the only possible choice that they had, and she knew that Lucy and Aislynn would not back down now that the decision had been made.
"What?!" Peter's voice rang out from inside the room, catching their attention. All four of them looked towards the closed door, the three monarchs showing surprise and alarm, while Aislynn only looked resigned and a little sad.
Edmund pounded on the door. "Peter? What's going on?" There was no answer from inside, and he moved to open the door, but Aislynn caught his arm. He turned to look at her and frowned as he caught sight of the expression on her face.
"They are going to need a few minutes," Aislynn said quietly. "We need to leave them to it."
"What do you know?" Edmund demanded angrily, his worry for Peter causing his tone to come out sharper than he had intended, and not caring in the least.
"Everything." Aislynn replied calmly, not flinching under the younger King's anger. "But it's for my mother and father to tell you. I expected that this would come up sooner or later, but I did think that she would wait until after the whole situation with the Telmarines has been resolved."
"Aislynn, what are you talking about?" Lucy asked.
"I can't tell you," Aislynn said, and her tone was genuinely reluctant and remorseful. "Please, don't ask me again." She looked back at the door for a brief moment, before her face crumpled and she turned and hurried off.
"Aislynn, wait!" Susan called after her. But Aislynn didn't respond or turn around. She disappeared around the corner, her footsteps fading. Susan looked at her siblings in surprise. "What is going on?"
"I'm dying, Peter…"
Hearing those words were like receiving a punch to the stomach and a slap to the face at the same time. For several moments, he felt like he couldn't breathe. All he could do was stand there and stare at her.
Krisalyn gazed at him sadly, her eyes filled with tears that she was trying unsuccessfully to hold back and running in rivulets down her cheeks. No matter what else was looming between them, she still loved Peter and would have done anything to spare him this knowledge. He had so much he was trying to deal with, she didn't want to add the extra burden to him – but she also knew that he needed to know. She literally had no idea how much time she had left. The healers had done everything that they possibly could do for her, and it wasn't enough. She'd already had several of her dizzy spells since leaving Anvard, although fortunately they had all occurred when she had been alone, so that no one besides Cor, Corin, Oreius, and Aislynn knew about them.
Dying…dear Aslan, please no… Peter's thoughts raced, but that was the one thought that was most prominent in his mind. It couldn't be true. He had not just found her again only to lose her to death. And why would she possibly be dying? Yes, she was older than he was, but fifty-six wasn't that old, not really. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him as she waited for him to process the news.
Finally, he managed to make his voice work again. "H-how? W-when?"
Krisalyn sighed heavily. "I've known that I was ill for almost two years, Peter. At first it just presented as minor dizzy spells and some mild exhaustion. I thought I was just working too hard. But it's grown steadily worse, and now includes some weakness and numbness in my hands, among other symptoms. The healers at Anvard have been treating me since it first developed. They've tried everything that they could think of – Narnian, Calormen, and Archenland remedies for the symptoms - but nothing has seemed to work for very long, and nothing has worked on every single symptom."
She fell silent for a moment, remembering some of the treatments. There had been poultices and herbal teas, changes in her diet, exercises for the numbness in her hands and feet… it had been never-ending for almost two years, with one round of treatment after another.
"The healers have pretty much given up hope of finding a cure, Peter. They can't think of anything else to try, but they don't know how long I have – or even if this is fatal."
A burst of hope pierced him. "So you may not be dying?" He knew healers all too well. Although they did everything to help, they hated to spread false hope. When the outcome was uncertain, they almost always tended towards the less optimistic view, in hopes of sparing loved ones the pain if an expected recovery didn't come to pass.
Krisalyn shrugged. "I don't know, Peter. All I know is what the healers have told me, and what I feel, and I feel that I don't have much time left. If the healers are right and the symptoms keep increasing in severity and occurrence, they give me a few years at best before the damage becomes permanent, and less if they get worse faster than they have over the last few years."
Peter let his breath out slowly. A few years…there was still time to find a cure. There was no need to panic yet. "I understand, Kris…but I want you to understand something…we will find a way to beat this. I am not going to lose you again."
Krisalyn sighed softly. "Peter, you've made promises to me before. Don't make one that you can't keep. I've lost some of my faith. Perhaps 'Steadfast' was the wrong title for Aslan to bestow on me."
The soft, chiding tone and her resigned air stabbed him. "I…" he wanted to deny her words, but he knew it wasn't worth arguing. From her perspective, he had broken his promises. There was nothing that he could say that would force her to trust him again.
But there was something that he needed to say. "Krisalyn, I know it's been hard for you. I would never have wanted you to go through that. If I had known what would happen, I would never have gone after the Stag. That was my mistake. I should have stayed with you as soon as you told me that you were pregnant. For that…I am sorry. I know the words aren't enough, but I do want you to know that that decision will haunt me for the rest of my life."
Peter left the room where he and Krisalyn had been talking and almost walked right into his siblings. Edmund almost pounced on him. "Peter, what happened?"
"Not now, Ed," Peter said softly. Even though he had hope that Krisalyn and her healers were wrong, he needed time to process what she had told him. It had been news that he had not been expecting to hear, and he still needed to deal with the reaction to that news. He was being hammered from all sides, and right now he couldn't take the time or energy to work through all of it. He had to keep his focus on the most important thing – Narnia's safety.
"Peter…" Susan tried, but Peter gently shook his head.
"No, Susan. Right now it's between Krisalyn and I. She told me some things, and I need time to think about them before I share them." He took a deep breath and looked at his siblings. "Are we agreed that Lucy and Aislynn will be going to find Aslan?"
His siblings looked at each other for a moment, before they nodded. Peter nodded as well, settling a calm, yet determined look on his face as Krisalyn exited the room. "Let's go and tell the rest of the Council. Hopefully, with this plan, we can work out something that will allow us to hold off the Telmarines until they find Aslan."
Together, the five of them strode down the corridors to where they had left the rest of the Council. They needed to be united on this front if they were going to convince the Council to go along with it. Peter and Edmund might be legendary for their tactical planning, but this was truly a desperate gamble. While they had no doubt that Lucy and Aislynn would find Aslan and bring him to their aid, the question was if they could hold the Telmarines off long enough so that he could make it to the How on time.
As they walked down the corridor Peter could feel his siblings' eyes on him the entire way, but per to his request, they didn't query him or Krisalyn about what they had discussed. His siblings were respecting his right to privacy, especially when the information pertained to his wife and daughter, and he appreciated their respect.
Before they could reach the room where the Council was meeting, the sound of horns blew wildly from outside. Peter looked at his siblings, a mixture of alarm and dread crossing his face. If those horns meant what he thought they did, they had just run out of time.
Turning, they hurried towards the main chamber of the How, and Peter led them up to the ledge where he had spoken to Caspian earlier in the day. They were joined a few moments later by Caspian and Aislynn, while down below, in the field near the How's entrance, the Narnians and their Archenland allies began to exit as they strained to see what the commotion was about. Even from their place above the entrance, Peter could hear the dismayed mutterings and cries of their people as they caught sight of the Telmarine army.
From the far end of the field, the army was streaming out from the forest – rows and rows of men in identical armor, bearing swords, shields, spears, and crossbows. Huge war machines pulled by teams of strong horses were dragged into firing range, and the Telmarine cavalry streamed down the center, peeling off to the left and the right as they reached the front of the army to form ranks in front.
Then, from the back of the group, a single white horse emerged and walked slowly down the center. The rider was a tall, stocky man wearing armor that would have been identical to the rest of the army, except that it was gold instead of steel.
"Miraz," Caspian breathed as he caught sight of the rider. "The Council of Lords has done it. They've named him King…and he now has the full army at his command."
The expanse of the army that awaited them was overwhelming and despite the fact that they had known that they were outnumbered, Peter still felt a sinking dread in his stomach at the sight of the full army. He had hoped that, outnumbered or not, they would have been facing fewer foes. He didn't know if they could possibly hold them off long enough for Lucy and Aislynn to carry out their mission.
Peter looked between Caspian and his family. "Come. We have some planning to do. They won't attack yet. They want us intimidated. We need every second we can get."
Together, they turned and headed back into the How, calling to the Council members who had come to see what was going on.
They strode through the entrance of the Council chamber and arranged themselves around the table. Peter looked around the room, taking in the faces of friends, both old and new. Aislynn was waiting for them, standing near Tumnus and Oreius. He met Oreius' eyes and the wise Centaur blinked quietly at him before a small, confident smile crossed his face. Peter took a deep breath. "My friends, we think we have a plan. Admittedly, it is a bit of a desperate gamble, but it is the only way that we could see the chance for a victory over our enemies."
"Speak, King Peter," Cor replied quietly. "We will listen."
Peter paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I have no doubt that everyone here is fully committed to fighting our enemy when they come, however, no matter what passion we have, we are still badly outnumbered by the Telmarines. That has been the problem that has been overhanging us since the beginning." Nods all around as Peter neatly summed up what they had all come to realize. "What we need, more than anything, is Aslan."
A murmur ran through the Council at that. Oreius, Cor, Corin, Tumnus...they all held expressions of hope and loyalty on their faces at the great Lion's name. Trumpkin, Trufflehunter, Asterius, Caspian, and Cornelius on the other hand, wore expressions of doubt and skepticism. Reepicheep and Glenstorm appeared torn between the two sides, a mixture of emotions crossing their faces.
"Some of you may not know all the stories," Peter continued. "But it was Aslan who helped us win the day at Beruna, and it was he who defeated the Witch. But it has been so long since he last came to Narnia, and I know that some of you may have lost faith in him. His arrival at Beruna was what turned the tide in our favor, and I believe that he could do it again."
"But if he hasn't come in all this time, why would he come now?" Trumpkin asked.
"Last time he came and proved why the Narnians had faith in him," Lucy said quietly. "For years under the rule of the White Witch, they clung to the prophecy that said he would come, and he came. But since we left, things have gone wrong and this time there is no prophecy to cling to…and this time, we need to prove that we have faith in him."
"Out of all of us, Lucy has always had the best relationship with Aslan," Peter said. "Not to mention, we believe he's here, in Narnia, waiting for us to seek him out. Lucy saw him near the gorge west of the Dancing Lawn." He paused for a moment, before he continued. "If anyone can find him, she can. She's going to take a fast horse and go in search of him."
Complete silence fell in the room as everyone processed this plan. Peter glanced at his siblings and his wife, waiting for the explosion that he sensed was coming. He half-expected it to come from Tumnus or Oreius, but it came from an avenue he had not expected.
"Cakes and kettledrums. That's your next big plan?" Trumpkin demanded, his eyes flashing. He pointed at Lucy. "Sending a little girl into the darkest parts of the forest alone to find someone who doesn't exist?"
A roar of protest met those words as the old Council reacted to the idea that Aslan didn't exist. For a moment, it was pure pandemonium as everyone fought to be heard. Those who had served alongside the Kings and Queens at Beruna, or, in the case of Cor and Corin, those who had seen Aslan during the Rabadash affair, yelled angrily at the obstinate dwarf. A few of the "new" Narnian Council yelled back, defending their comrade from the words of the others.
Peter allowed it to go on for a few seconds before he slapped his hands sharply down on the table, ignoring the sting as they impacted with the stone, as he roared, "Enough!"
The group fell silent, exactly as he had intended. He looked around the room for a moment before he spoke again. "It's our only chance. Aslan is the greatest power that we have, and he is the one thing that the Telmarines won't be able to counter."
"She won't be alone," Aislynn said, stepping forward. "I will be going with her."
Trumpkin still didn't appear to be convinced. "You're placing all of our hope in a desperate gamble."
"Perhaps," Peter agreed. "But the important thing to remember is that we haven't lost hope. I haven't, nor has Queen Lucy or my siblings." Peter straightened up, his golden crown gleaming in the flickering light, and for a moment, everyone who was in that room saw a glimpse of King Peter at the height of his rule. His voice rang out, and each word stirred something in all of them. "Hope is what brought Narnia through the subjugation of the Witch during the Hundred Year winter. Hope in a prophecy that no one knew for sure would ever come to fruition. Hope and faith is our greatest weapon against tyranny and ignorance."
He looked around the room again. "All of you have chosen to stand together, against the Telmarines and everything that they have done to you. There was a time, not so long ago, when I would never have believed that Minotaurs could work together with Centaurs, or that the Black Dwarves and Red Dwarves could cease their quarreling long enough to take up arms for a common cause. Outnumbered or not, we will meet the Telmarines at battle, and we will hold them off long enough for Lucy and Aislynn to find Aslan and bring him to our aid."
Silence fell over the room as Peter stopped talking. Everyone seemed to be considering his words.
"For Aslan!" Reepicheep cried, drawing his tiny rapier and holding it high before he saluted Peter and bowed deeply.
As one, the rest of the gathering unsheathed their various weapons and echoed Reepicheep's salute. "For Aslan!"
Peter nodded to them before turning his attention back to the table. "Now, we've made a lot of progress in planning this battle, but we need to turn our attention away from thinking in terms of victory, and start thinking instead about enduring until Lucy and Aislynn return."
Caspian suddenly stood up from where he was seated next to his tutor. "If I may?"
"Please," Peter and Edmund said together, before they both chuckled in amusement, which drew some laughter from the rest of the Council.
Caspian, emboldened by their response, stepped forward. "Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer, but as King he is still subject to the traditions and expectations of his people." He paused for a moment. "There is one that may buy us some time."
Peter leaned forward slightly, interested. "Go on, Caspian."
Caspian took a deep breath. "Under Telmarine law, a King may be challenged by the ruler of another country or the leader of a faction to single-combat. Both leaders will agree to terms before the combat begins, and once the contest has been decided, the terms must be acted upon, or the rulers will lose face with their supporters."
Peter's face turned calculating as he saw where Caspian was going with this. "So if I challenged Miraz to single-combat…"
"No, Peter!" Krisalyn exclaimed softly, but he ignored her for the moment as he looked closely at Caspian.
"He would have to face you, or lose face with the Council of Lords. He would be branded a coward and he would lose all support with the army and the people," Caspian explained. "That's one reason why the Crown Prince is always trained in combat from an early age." He paused again. "I would rather be the one to face him, King Peter. I am the one that he truly wants."
"And that is the reason why you can't face him, Caspian." Edmund reached out and placed a hand on the older boy's shoulder. "This contest would be to decide your right to claim your throne. The proper thing to do is to have a champion fight in your stead…and there is no one more accomplished with the sword in single-combat than Peter."
Oreius nodded in agreement. "Challenges of rank are particularly tricky situations," he agreed. "As the challenged, Miraz must fight, but the challenger has the right to name a champion to fight in his stead. Sir Peter Wolfsbane is one of Narnia's greatest champions and – as King Edmund pointed out – one of the most accomplished in single sword."
Caspian looked between the general and the two Kings before he nodded and stepped back. Peter smiled at him, making a note to speak to him later, before the challenge began.
"So," Peter said. "We need to issue a challenge to Miraz." He looked around the room before his eyes settled on Cornelius. "Doctor, would you be so kind and scribe the challenge for me?"
"Of course, Your Majesty," Cornelius said, rising and stepping over to the table, where he reached for a blank piece of parchment and a quill and ink. He poised the quill over the parchment, waiting.
"Peter, by the gift of Aslan…"
Krisalyn slipped quietly out of the Council chamber as Peter started dictating the letter to Miraz. She was desperately torn and she needed time to think before she could face Peter again.
Her feelings about Peter were in a tumult and she didn't know what she should think or feel. Twenty-five years ago, it had been easier. She had loved Peter with her whole heart, and never once had she felt any conflict in the matter. Oh they had had arguments and disagreements about things, but never anything that made her question her feelings for her husband.
But when she lost their unborn son, her faith and her emotional stability had been shaken. It had not been Peter's fault, by any stretch of the imagination, but her confidence had been shaken and her grief had been deep. Now, thinking back on it, that had been the time when their relationship had truly changed. Even though they had loved each other, the grief of that tragedy had always lingered like a shadow between them – and when she had found out that she was carrying Aislynn, the fear that it would happen again had been there too.
From that, Peter's disappearance and the long, lonely years had not done anything good for her. Aislynn had brought joy back into her life, but it wasn't the same thing. Every time she had looked at her daughter, she had seen Peter there, and again the grief and betrayal had reared its ugly head – so she had pushed her feelings down as deep as she could, and tried to remain cool and distant so that she didn't have to feel that pain as the long years rolled on. It had only been with Aislynn that she had been able to feel even a shadow of her former self, and she had loved Aislynn with her whole heart. She had tried to do her best to never give Aislynn a reason to doubt her love, and fortunately she had succeeded.
Now, Peter was back, and her emotions regarding him, so deeply buried were rising up and cascading over her again, and she didn't know how to react or respond to them. One part of her just wanted him to be gone again, so that she didn't have to feel this confusion, pain, and anger when she was around him. The other part of her still loved him with all her heart, and would do anything that she could to protect him, even though he didn't need her protection. The dichotomy was tearing her apart and making it hard for her to even breathe when she was around him.
She wasn't paying attention to where she was going, other than just to get away and find some place where she could find a measure of peace. She had to resolve the conflict in her heart, but she didn't know how. She was equally torn between her feelings and she had no idea how she could find her balance again.
Absently she rounded the corner and stopped abruptly as a wave of emotion swept over her again, causing her to sink to her knees and bury her face in her hands to stifle the sob that exploded out of her. The pain was so intense and heart-wrenching…it was all she could do not to collapse from the sheer agony of it – and it wasn't even a physical pain that plagued her now.
For the longest time, she cried, not even knowing what it was she cried for. Was it for her country and her people, deeply oppressed for these long years while she'd stood helplessly by, unable to do anything for them?
Perhaps it was for her daughter, who had been forced to grow up not knowing her father, but who was now willing to throw herself into the fight, risking her life on a desperate gamble that might not pay off.
Or maybe for Peter, who had seen everything he knew and loved destroyed, and had been unable to avert the disaster that plagued their country.
But no, she knew the truth, deep in her heart. It was for herself, for the pain that she had felt when she realized that Peter was gone and not coming back. For the pain she now felt as she tried to resolve her own feelings with her memories of a man who had loved her so deeply, and whom she had loved just as much.
What was she going to do?
Anvard…thirty four years previous…
"My lady, have you heard the news?" Alana, Krisalyn's maid and dear friend chirped in excitement as she hurried into the suite, almost bursting with the news that she carried.
Krisalyn looked up from her work with a frown, her mind still lost in the maze of requests and petitions that she had been looking over prior to the next morning's session of Court, where she would be sitting with her Uncle and helping him to adjudicate their people's requests and problems. Being the Crown Princess of Archenland was not all about parties and beautiful gowns, nor was it about privilege with no responsibility. It was, as her uncle and father had both told her more than once, a real challenge and one that would at times make her frustrated and angry, sorrowful and joyous, or simply relieved all at once. Being the ruler of a country was not an easy task, but it was one that Krisalyn had been trained for her entire life.
Blinking several times before she was able to focus on her maid, Krisalyn slowly shook her head, bringing her attention back to the present. "What was that, Alana?"
"Have you heard the news, Highness? One of the guards just told me that High King Peter of Narnia is expected to arrive this evening. The guards at the border sent a messenger on ahead, and he should be here just before dinner!"
Peter… the thought of him brought a smile to her face. She hadn't seen him in two months, since she and her uncle had visited Cair Paravel for the Narnians' anniversary celebration of the coronation of their Kings and Queens. It had been almost a year since she had met the Narnian monarchs and become friends with them. Queens Susan and Lucy were wonderfully bright and joyful young women, and even though Krisalyn was older than they were, they were still a delight to know. King Edmund was calm and wise, much more than one would expect for a boy his age, and he always had some tidbit of knowledge or wisdom that staggered her when they spoke.
But it was Peter who intrigued her most of all. So different in appearance from his siblings, with his golden hair and blue eyes a sharp contrast to their dark hair and eyes, he was…wonderful. He was kind and generous, with a streak of humor that never failed to make her laugh. He could be devious and innocent all at once – as she had observed multiple times when he and his brother would get together to play pranks on their sisters. At the same time, he never considered himself superior to anyone, and more often than not would bend over backward if it meant helping someone in need. More than once, she had seen him drop whatever he was doing and go to help someone, often times without even being asked.
And yet, all of those traits vanished whenever he was on the training fields with his brother and the sword-masters of Cair Paravel. Then he was intense, and focused. Nothing could distract him except danger to his sibling, and he would have an aura of complete control and leadership, while he wielded his sword as if it was an extension of himself.
Why was he coming to Anvard? Her uncle hadn't mentioned anything recently that would explain his sudden visit, and to be frank there was no reason for him to visit. Archenland had no celebrations coming up and anything of a diplomatic nature would have been sent via a messenger with the most recent dispatches from their ambassador.
Before she could say anything more, cries from outside on the battlements caught her attention and she moved to the window to look out. Her gaze fastened on the gates as the guards heaved them open to admit a small party. Riding at the head of the party on a handsome black stallion, his golden hair shining in the late-afternoon sun under his golden crown was Peter.
Just behind him, dark eyes looking keenly around was a tall black Centaur whom she knew to be General Oreius, leader of Narnia's army and the head of the royal monarchs' bodyguards. Just behind Oreius was a second Centaur, this one a handsome bay with reddish hair, and two Fauns.
Krisalyn stood at the window, watching as Peter looked around the courtyard before he dismounted and allowed the grooms to escort his stallion away. Several of the guards and servants that were going about their tasks paused to bow to him out of respect and he returned their greetings with a nod and a smile. Then he looked up at the castle and she saw his eyes fasten on her window. The smile that crossed his face then sent a slow shiver of delight through her, and she didn't know why.
Turning away from the window, she left Alana standing in her room as she hurried through the palace hallways. As Crown Princess, she was obligated to greet him and welcome him to Anvard. Halfway to the door, she met her uncle coming out of his study.
"Uncle, did you know that King Peter was arriving today?" she asked him as she fell into step beside him. Did her uncle know something that he wasn't telling her? Or had it just slipped his mind as they dealt with all of the petitions that they would have to hear tomorrow?
Lune shook his head. "I only just found out from the messenger," he replied as they reached the main hall, where Peter and his escort stood waiting. As the High King caught sight of them approaching he offered them a bow of equals, acknowledging their status in their home.
"Peter, welcome back to Anvard once again," Lune said warmly, returning Peter's bow as they drew close enough to hold a conversation.
"Lune, Princess Krisalyn," Peter replied, that same dazzling smile that she had seen from her window crossing his face again. "I am sorry to arrive with such short notice, but something rather urgent has come up and I would like to speak with you alone, my friend," he continued, turning his attention to her uncle as he straightened.
"Of course," Lune agreed immediately as he clapped the younger man on the shoulder and started to lead him away. Peter paused long enough to reach over and take Krisalyn's hand and kiss the back of it lightly before he turned and walked beside Lune.
Krisalyn watched them go, unconcerned. If it was something that she needed to know about, her uncle would tell her immediately. There were some things, she knew, that had to be spoken of between two rulers before news could travel down to her. Her uncle never hesitated to tell her something if he felt that it was important for her to know about it. She was his heir, and it was – at the moment – her hands that would rule Anvard when he chose to step aside or died. Of course, she had very few doubts that that would actually happen, since he had married Lady Adelie six months past.
Her uncle wanted children of his own, and she had no doubt that he would have them soon enough, in which case she would be obligated to step aside as heir in favor of her uncle's own children. To be perfectly honest, she didn't mind the thought of stepping aside. While she had been raised to serve her country and do her duty as the heir, being Crown Princess or Queen had never really been something that she wanted. While she could have abdicated in favor of her twin brother, her father and mother had raised her to take responsibility and serve if she was called upon – and she had been called upon to take on the duties of the heir.
She shook her head to stop her woolgathering before she turned to General Oreius and the rest of the escort. "My apologies, General," she said softly. "If you will follow me, I will show you and your companions to rooms where you may rest and refresh yourself while the High King meets with my uncle." She drew on the formal words and actions to distract herself from wondering why Peter was here in the first place.
"I thank you, Princess," Oreius replied, bowing his head graciously to her as she turned and began to lead them to rooms that were set aside for escorts and bodyguards near the room that would be given to King Peter for the duration of his visit.
"Daughter, why do you cry?" a gentle voice asked softly, the deep tone filled with sympathy and remorse for her pain.
Krisalyn looked up, rubbing at her eyes which were still filled with tears. As a result, it took her a moment to comprehend what she was seeing in front of her, and another moment to accept it while she wondered if she had finally lost what sensibilities she had.
Sitting in front of her, his tail wrapped neatly around his feet, except for the end which twitched and flicked against the ground every few seconds, was a golden lion who simply radiated power, love, and compassion. The gentle, kind face looking down on her, his eyes filled with sympathy and curiosity was one that she hadn't seen since her wedding day.
"Aslan?" she breathed, softly, half expecting him to vanish. "Is it really you?"
Aslan nodded, his face solemn and quiet as he waited for the answer to his question. The love and compassion that she sensed coming from him was so powerful that it was all she could do not to break down into tears again.
"Dear child, what reason do you have for crying as if your heart was broken?" the great Lion asked again when she couldn't formulate a response.
"I – I am so lost, Aslan," she murmured. "I don't know what I should think, or feel, and it is tearing me apart."
He stood and stepped over to her, leaning his head down and pressing his tongue to her cheek in a lion's kiss as his warm, gentle breath washed over her. "The heart, dear one, is a complicated matter."
"It's about Peter," she whispered, feeling the warmth around her like a comforting blanket that surrounded her and cocooned her, isolating her emotions and giving her a chance to voice them in a way that would make sense. "I am still so angry with him for leaving like he did and placing all the burden on my shoulders. Not just the burden of raising our daughter, but the burden of ruling Narnia and the uncertainty of knowing if I was doing the right thing or not. Part of me wants him to hurt and suffer like I do, and I know that I shouldn't, but I can't help myself. But another part of me wants to forgive him and welcome him back and put the past behind us. I'm so torn, and with the battle that is coming up, I don't know what I should do. If I stay angry at him, I'm afraid that he'll go off upset and distracted and he might die because he isn't focused on his task…but if I forgive him and he dies anyway, it will destroy me completely, because part of me can't bear to lose him again."
"You are feeling love, in its deepest, most powerful form, daughter," Aslan said after several moments of silence following her outburst. "It is the same love that made you give yourself to him when he asked for your hand. It is the same love that you showed to your daughter all these years. Love is never a thing to fear, and you should never reject it because of fear. The love you feel now is the same thing that I felt the night that I surrendered to the White Witch to spare King Edmund's life."
"But how do I reconcile my fear and my love?" she whispered. "I just can't lose him again."
"Give him a reason to fight if you fear his death in battle. Love of a country is a wonderful thing, but if Peter goes into battle unsure of your feelings for him, it could make all the difference." Aslan looked at her and a gentle, yet stern look came into his eyes. "You stood before me on your wedding day and pledged that you would remain true to him through all trials and blessings in your life together. The love in your eyes and the sincerity in your voice convinced everyone that you and Peter were meant to be together. Would you really throw that away over something that Peter had no control over?"
Krisalyn hung her head at he reminder of her wedding vows. Peter had already reminded her of them once – and the fact that Aslan felt he needed to remind of them as well was yet more evidence of how deeply troubled her spirit was.
"And this perhaps is the greatest trial that we will face – learning to love again," she whispered, understanding what Aslan was saying and slowly coming to the realization that she wanted to put the past behind them. Yes, it would be difficult, and the circumstances of their relationship had changed drastically from what it had been all those years ago when she swore herself and her love to Peter. But at heart, they were still the same people that they had been, and she still loved Peter with her whole heart. Clinging to her anger was pointless and it was her stubbornness and her unwillingness to forgive that was causing her such pain.
"Life is full of trials daughter," Aslan said softly. "There is no way to say that this one will be your greatest trial or not. Everything is constantly in motion, and the decisions that you make today will influence the things that will come in the future." He kissed her again, gently. "Find the peace in your heart that your love brings, and if Peter's story is meant to end here, let him go with love, not anger or bitterness, and know that you will be together again one day."
Anvard…thirty-four years prior…
"Your Highness?" Alana tapped on her door to catch her attention. "Your uncle has summoned you to his study."
Krisalyn turned away from the window and smiled at her friend. "Thank you, Alana." Perhaps now she'd finally get some answers about Peter's unexpected visit. She crossed the room and exited out into the corridor. Her skirt swished around her ankles as she glided through the palace hallways with a deceptively graceful stride. Her curiosity was at a peak and she wondered what could have been so urgent that it brought Peter here unannounced and wanting to speak to her uncle alone.
Reaching her uncle's study, she tapped on the door and waited for permission to enter. It came almost immediately, and she pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Uncle? You called for me?"
"Yes, my dear. Please, come in." Her uncle was standing in front of the cold fireplace, one hand resting on the mantel and the other rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Peter was seated in an armchair a few feet away, watching her alertly.
Her uncle nodded as she reached the small sitting area. "I'll leave you two alone to discuss matters," he said, turning and heading for the door before she could say anything, pulling the door closed behind him. She stared after him, baffled and confused. Discuss matters? What did she and Peter have to discuss that would have brought him here so unexpectedly?
She turned back to Peter, who was still watching her, a quiet smile on his face. But as she looked closer, she could see something else flickering under that tranquil expression. She wasn't sure what it was and the uncertainty only confused her further. However, she took a deep breath before she spoke. "Your Majesty, was there something you needed to speak to me about?"
Peter rose to his feet and stepped closer to her. She was only an inch or two shorter than he was, and she only had to tip her head slightly to look into his blue eyes as he stopped in front of her. He swallowed nervously, gathering his courage before he addressed her. "Yes, there was." He took her hand and led her over to the chair where he had been sitting. "Please, sit down."
Still confused and uncertain as to his intentions, she sat down in his vacated spot. He crouched down beside her so that she didn't have to look up at hm. Her eyes fell on his hand, which was clenched inside an outer pocket on his tunic. She looked back up at him, waiting for him to speak.
"Krisalyn, I know that what I am about to say to you may seem a bit forward, but I pray that you will hear me out before you say anything." He paused until she nodded in agreement. "We have not known each other for very long, but ever since we met, I have considered you to be a friend – one who understands the burdens and pressures of being a ruler."
"I consider you to be a friend too, King Peter," she replied when he paused again, using the slightly more formal title to deal with her confusion and nerves.
"We both know that friendship…and even love can be difficult to find when you are royalty," Peter continued, sounding a little more awkward now, as if he was getting to what he really wanted to discuss. "But…every time I am around you, Krisalyn, I feel as if I am with someone who understands me…and cares for me."
She could only nod wordlessly, not sure how he wanted her to respond, or even where he was going with this. His mention of love only made her even more confused.
Shifting out of his crouch and dropping to one knee in front of the chair, Peter pulled his hand out of his pocket, holding a velvet-wrapped bundle which he laid across his upraised knee. He unwrapped it, slowly, revealing a delicate necklace with a polished silver chain and a pendant made of rubies and pearls. He looked up and took one of her hands in his. "Krisalyn, I have no idea what your feelings are towards me, and I understand if you don't share mine…but I would be more honored and grateful than ever before if you would consent to be my wife and my Queen."
Words completely failed her. She had never expected this. It was true that she did consider Peter and his siblings to be her friends, but there was a real difference between that and love. But as she stared at Peter, gazing into his blue eyes, a wave of realization swept over her. He was so different from any other man that she had ever known. Ever since she was sixteen and had officially taken on the responsibilities of the heir, every single lord – young and old – in her uncle's court had come courting her. There had never been a single spark of affection, caring, or friendship between any of them, for all their trying. But with Peter…it was different.
From the moment they had first met, almost a year ago, she had been drawn to the young King. His entire attitude was such a contrast to the other men who had come seeking her hand. He had never, until this moment, said or done anything to make her think that he wanted anything from her other than friendship. His restraint and his obvious compassion for the people that he served and ruled, along with the love he had for his siblings had touched something deep inside of her. In the last year, although they had only seen each other a handful of times, he had been the one she had most wanted to see when she and her uncle went to Cair Paravel or the Narnian monarchs came to Anvard.
Now here he was, offering her something that she had always wanted – the hope for love and a family – but had thought that she would never have because of her rank as heir. She believed that her uncle had been lucky to find Adelie, to find love when so often royal marriages were made out of necessity. And in that moment, she realized that she did love Peter. There was nothing about him that she didn't love or respect. She hadn't even noticed when friendship had turned to desire and love.
Peter was still waiting anxiously for her answer, the necklace he was offering her as a betrothal gift resting on his knee. She gazed into his eyes and saw the uncertainty, the nervousness, and the hope he was feeling there. Leaning forward, she lightly brushed his golden hair back from his eyes in a caring gesture. "Yes, Peter. I will marry you." Her hand trailed from his hair down to his cheek before she leaned closer to him and lightly brushed her lips across his, catching him completely by surprise.
Her eyes ached and itched almost unbearably as she knelt on the ground, the last of her tears drying on her cheeks. Reaching up, she brushed the heel of her hand hard against her eyes in an effort to soothe the ache, in vain. She had cried until she had no more tears left to cry and still she felt empty inside.
Raising her head with an effort, she froze as she took in the sight of what was around her with her bleary eyes. A massive stone slab, bowed inward due to the crack that ran through the middle of it stood in front of her and just over the top of it, she could see Aslan's face.
She remembered with crystal clarity when they had first begun discussing the plans to build the How at the Stone Table. It had been on Oreius' suggestion that they buried the Stone Table at the lowest level of the How, in order to protect it. It was the most sacred spot in Narnia and no one had argued with his suggestion. Instead, they had found a way to make it into a place that was even more beautiful and sacred, by turning the chamber into a temple of sorts, with the relief of Aslan and his children carved all around the room, meant to be lit only by torchlight.
How odd that in her distress she would have found her way here through the maze of caverns that lay between the Council chamber and this sacred place.
"Give him a reason to fight if you fear his death in battle. Love of a country is a wonderful thing, but if Peter goes into battle unsure of your feelings for him, it could make all the difference."
The great Lion's words echoed in her head and she slowly closed her eyes as she remembered the peace that she had felt when she had been with him. It was the first time in a very long time that she had felt any measure of peace.
Aslan was right. There was no way that she could stay angry at Peter for something that hadn't been his fault. He had asked for her forgiveness, but she had been unable to give it, because she hadn't felt ready. But now, Aslan had shown her that she did have the strength to give him forgiveness…but more importantly she wanted to forgive him. She couldn't send him out to face Miraz alone with the shadow of her anger hanging over them. It would mean his death.
Rising to her feet, she paused for a moment and bowed to the carved relief on the wall, silently thanking him for showing her the way to her own heart.
Aslan had not forsaken them, nor had he forsaken her, even though she had done nothing to deserve his love and devotion…just like she had done nothing to deserve Peter's. Yet, like Aslan, Peter offered his love to her freely, with no strings. Even though she had been angry with him, he hadn't given up hope that she would forgive him.
It was the most precious treasure that she had, even more so than Aislynn's love. Aislynn loved her truly and purely, yes…but part of it was a daughter's love for her mother. It was a different bond between them than the one that she had had with Peter – one that she had almost squandered. Peter had been the first person that she had ever known who had offered her true love, and all the years she had known him, he had guarded and protected her, loved her and stayed true to her.
A precious treasure indeed.
Turning on her heel, she left the Stone Table chamber and headed up to the room where she had placed her things after her arrival. It was time to set things right, and restore Narnia to what it should be.
She wound her way through the caverns to her room and moved to the trunk that she had brought along with the army's supplies. It had been packed for twenty-five years – ever since she had fled Cair Paravel. Only once, in all that time, had she opened it – when she had removed Susan's horn and given it to Cornelius for him to take with him into Narnia on his mission. Back then, she had felt an urging to do so, although at first it hadn't been in their plans. But she had heeded the urging then, and she would heed it now.
Opening it now, she caught her breath at the sight of the item resting on the top. She almost reached for it, but after a moment pushed it aside. That wasn't what she was here for. Digging deeper into the chest, she extracted the items that she was looking for and piled them on the floor beside her until she could close the chest again. Then, ever so neatly, she stacked the items on top of the chest, laying them out properly.
Rising to her feet again, she went in search of her brother-in-law. She knew Peter, and she knew that he would be the one that he would have entrusted the right of challenge to. Edmund, of all of them, was the most gifted orator, and it would be he who would find the words that would get Miraz to accept their challenge.
But it would be even better with her gifts.
"Edmund."
The younger King turned at the sound of his name to see Krisalyn moving towards him. He wasn't certain where she had gone when she had slipped silently out of the Council chambers. He knew Peter had been concerned when she had. He had seen the look in his brother's eyes often enough to recognize it when he saw it, no matter how briefly it had been there. But since they had been busy working out the exact details of the challenge to Miraz, none of them had been able to go after her.
"Kris? Is something wrong?" he asked, a spike of alarm running through him as she drew closer and he could see the tell-tale traces of tears on her cheeks and in her red-rimmed and blood-shot eyes. She looked weary and…old. Older than she should at least, and his heart ached for her. He didn't know what exactly was between her and Peter at the moment, but when Peter was ready to tell him, he had no doubt that his brother would.
To her credit, she didn't react to his gentle inquiry. She stopped beside him, and for the first time since she had arrived at the How, her head was held high and she had a fire and a determination in her that he hadn't seen. Something had changed, but he didn't know what it was. "Have you delivered the message to Miraz yet?" she asked, neatly sidestepping his inquiry with one of her own.
Edmund shook his head. "Not yet. I was going to leave in just a few minutes with Glenstorm and Giant Wimbleweather. Peter is overseeing the final plans for Lucy and Aislynn's mission."
Krisalyn nodded. "Have you a moment to come with me? I have something I've been meaning to give you, and I think now is the right time. It will aid you in your mission."
Edmund frowned in confusion, but nodded and followed her as she turned and headed towards their sleeping chambers. She slipped through the makeshift curtain that had been hung up over the door of the girls' chambers so they could have privacy to dress, and held it open for him. His frown deepened, and he stepped inside.
He took two paces into the room before his eyes fell on a trunk that was sitting against one wall of the small room. But it wasn't the trunk that caused him to stop in his tracks and stare as she dropped the curtain behind him. It was the items that were sitting on it that arrested his attention.
Piled neatly, yet properly arranged on the trunk was a chainmail shirt, knee-high leather boots, a scarlet tunic emblazoned with the golden image of a rampant lion, a leather belt and gloves, and a leather collar with steel pauldrons. Propped up against the wall, in leather sheaths, were a pair of short swords and a long dagger.
He recognized all of it immediately. It was his armor from the battle of Beruna and the first few years of his rule. He hadn't worn it in years, since as he had aged it had ceased to fit him. But what was it doing here? He turned to face her in shock and she answered him before he could speak.
"When we fled Cair Paravel, we took the items that were most important to us, historically," she explained. "I insisted on taking the armor and weapons, even though they were heavy and burdened us down. I also have your other gear from the later years, but I do believe that this will fit you better at the moment."
Edmund looked her closely in the eyes. "Krisalyn…do you have Rhindon?"
She nodded. "It will be returned to Peter in due course. I have been its keeper these long years, and he will not go into this battle without his blade."
Rhindon…the sword of the High King. Ever since it had been given to Peter by Father Christmas, it had been an extension of his brother. Peter had never gone anywhere without the sword, and while, over the years, Edmund had gone through several swords as he grew older and stronger (or the weapons suffered unfortunate mishaps) Rhindon had always remained perfectly weighted and balanced for Peter.
Edmund was drawn out of his thoughts as Krisalyn took his arm and led him forward. "Come, my King. Let us outfit you properly for your mission." She held up the chainmail shirt so that he could slip it on.
Edmund smiled brilliantly at her and quickly shed the outer leather tunic that he was wearing over the blue shirt that Aislynn had given him. With Krisalyn's help, it didn't take him long to put the armor on properly. First the chainmail shirt, which tied in the back. Following that was the scarlet tunic, and then the leather collar and pauldrons. Had he been going out to battle and not a parlay, the collar would have been made of steel, to protect his neck. He tugged the boots on, marveling at the perfect fit. He and Peter had gotten one of the Centaurs to make them crude pairs of boots, which fit somewhat imperfectly. These however, were perfectly broken in and soft from the years of wearing them. After that he secured the belt around his waist and hung one of his swords from it. Although he was better with two swords than one, it would not be proper to come so heavily armed. The second sword and dagger he left propped against the wall. Finally, he pulled on the leather gloves and then turned to face Krisalyn, awaiting her verdict.
To his surprise, she curtsied deeply before him, in a way that she hadn't since they had first met all those years ago. Once she had married Peter, she had become family, and thus had no need to bow before them.
"Now you are ready, my King," she told him sincerely, before producing the letter that Peter had written to Miraz. Edmund blinked. When had she left the room and retrieved it? However, he took the scroll from her and slipped it into his belt.
"Thank you, Krisalyn," he whispered, feeling more confident of this plan now that he was again dressed as a warrior King. With his silver crown on his head and his familiar armor in place, he hoped that he looked more like a Knight of Narnia and not like a boy to be scorned.
As he turned to go, she caught his arm again. "Please, don't say anything about this to Peter," she breathed. "It is something that he and I must discuss when the time is right."
He hesitated for a moment, before he nodded. "I promise."
It was a promise that he would keep. His brother and Krisalyn deserved a chance to work things out between them, and one of the things that Krisalyn had always done was to help Peter put his armor on before they rode out with the army. It had been their small ritual before leaving Cair Paravel – as if putting the armor on Peter was her way of protecting him when he was far away from her – and Peter had never failed to come home safely when she had done so.
Perhaps it was a good omen that would continue to work for them before Peter went out to meet Miraz in battle. But now it was time for Edmund to do his part and issue the challenge.