Author's Note:*creeps slowly out of hiding, half-expecting an insane mob to be waiting* I am so very sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! I never expected to go an entire year between posts, but my muse completely abandoned me. I watched "Prince Caspian" over and over again in an effort to entice her back, but it didn't work until today. Maybe it has something to do with finally getting to see "Voyage of the Dawn Treader", but something finally convinced my muse to come back.

On a happier note, I am very pleased with this chapter, although I'll warn you now, it's very emotional. You might want to have a tissue (or ten) standing by. And one tiny disclaimer: Krisalyn's song in this chapter does not belong to me. It is the property of the amazing Twila Paris. I tweaked a couple of tiny things to make it appropriate for Narnia (changed one or two words, and omitted the chorus). The original song is called "Your Whole Life Long" and can be found on an amazing album of lullabies and bedtime prayers, which can be purchased on iTunes.

With that said, on with the story!

Chapter Twenty-five: Provocation, Promises, and Prayers

Telmarine encampment…

Commander Larez was moving among the men, making sure that all was prepared for battle. The King and General Glozelle had decided to wait before attacking, in order to unnerve the Narnian beasts that were cowering within their pitiful little fortress. That would be half the battle won – not that they needed the advantage. Their forces were tactically superior to the Narnians and their allies. But a discouraged enemy never fought as well as a passionate one.

"Commander!" one of the men called out to him sharply. "Something stirs among the enemy!"

Larez frowned and moved toward the man who stood at the edge of the encampment. Drawing up alongside him, he looked out across the field, and for a moment, he wasn't sure what he was seeing. Reaching down to his belt, he removed the small spyglass that he had taken from the scouts' supplies to replace the one that the Narnians had taken from him.

Raising it to his eye, he focused on the movement, peering out to see what the beasts were up to. Perhaps they were going to surrender?

After a moment, he realized that three of the Narnians were approaching the Telmarine encampment. They were almost halfway across the field, and they had paused and were waving something aloft. Larez lowered the spyglass and looked to the man who had gotten his attention. "Send for General Glozelle and His Majesty at once!" he barked. The man saluted and hurried off in the direction of the command tent. Larez raised the glass back to his eye and looked again.

On the right side, one of the mismatched horse-beasts was standing alert and proud. The horse half of him was black as pitch, while the human half was that of a man in his mid-twenties, with wild black hair. On the other side was a horrifying creature, one that Larez had failed to note was part of the Narnian army. It was a man, but it stood almost seven times as large as any normal man. Larez honestly didn't know what to expect from such a creature and it frightened him. How would their men react if that thing was in battle against them?

But it was the third figure that gave him the most reason to pause. It took a full minute for Larez to realize that he was looking at the younger of the two boys who had claimed to be Narnia's rightful rulers. Before, he had looked like a mere child, dressed in clothing that was slightly too big for him, with ragged, ill-fitting boots on his feet. But now…

The boy had changed. His ill-fitting clothing was gone, replaced with armor that appeared to have been molded to him – but it was not new, as if the Narnians were trying to impress. No, this armor bore all the signs of having seen hard use. The scarlet tunic that he wore gave him a noble, regal aura – a dangerous one. Larez swallowed nervously. This was a warrior, no matter his apparent age – but even more, he wore a crown of silver on his head – a crown that fit him so perfectly, there could be no doubt that it had been crafted for him, and it gleamed in the light, as if a star had come to rest on his brow.

"Commander, what is it?" Glozelle and the King had joined him. Larez quickly bowed, before he offered the glass to Miraz.

"The Narnians have sent some of their own under green branches," Larez said, indicating where they stood. Green branches…the traditional sign of safe passage and parley. If the King agreed to see them, they would have safe passage through the camp to bring the message they carried, and then safe passage to return to their own forces once the meeting was complete. "The one in the middle is the younger of the two who tried to interrogate me and claimed to be one of Narnia's rulers…and looking at him now, I would almost believe it. He has a dangerous air surrounding him. I should not like to meet him on the field of battle."

Miraz raised the glass to his eye, wanting to scoff at the commander's words, until he caught sight of the one that his scout leader spoke of. And though he would never voice it out loud, he almost had to agree with the younger man. Something about that warrior Knight – it sent a chill through him.

"Perhaps they intend to surrender," Glozelle ventured, looking out at the envoys.

Miraz lowered the glass and shook his head. "No. They are much too noble for that." He handed the glass to Glozelle and started to turn away. "Commander Larez, you will go out and meet them. They are to have safe passage to the command tent."

Larez bowed swiftly. "Yes, Your Majesty." As the King and the General hurried away, Larez called to two of the men and gestured for them to join him. Together the three of them strode out towards the middle of the field where the Narnians were waiting.

As they approached, Larez felt the eyes of the boy on him. When they stopped a few feet away, the boy was the first one to speak. "Commander Larez, we meet again. I bear a message from the Narnian leadership for Lord Miraz."

Larez only nodded wordlessly. He studied them for a moment, paying close attention to the giant man, noting the weapons that they bore. "My lord has agreed to grant you safe passage under the banner of green branches," he said calmly. "But you must leave your weapons here."

"Nay," the boy said firmly. "Under the provisions of war which detail the rules of parley through green branches, we are each permitted one weapon for our own protection as we enter your camp. We shall not draw them, lest we be threatened first, however. You have my word on that."

Larez was impressed by the child's knowledge of the laws of war. The demand had been a challenge, and the boy had answered without hesitating. Whatever else he was, he obviously knew the laws. "You shall follow me. My lord waits for you in the command tent."

The three Narnians nodded and followed Larez and his men towards the camp. As they grew closer and the Telmarines caught sight of Wimbleweather, there were mutters and cries of alarm, but no one moved to attack as they noticed the green branches carried by the Narnians.

Edmund wasn't surprised to see Commander Larez when he strode up to meet them at the center of the field. It took all of his royal training to maintain a stoic façade when he really wanted to scowl at the man. There was no telling what information the man had gleaned from his stay and escape – and no way to know what he had told Miraz.

The demand to put their weapons down didn't surprise him in the least. It was a formal nicety, a test to see how committed they were to the parley. He smirked inwardly to himself. There was no way that he would fall for the challenge – and Larez had to know that. He didn't hesitate with his response since giving in now would put them on a bad footing with the Telmarines, which would put them in a position of weakness during the upcoming negotiation.

As Larez led them towards the command tent, Edmund's eyes darted around, taking stock of the preparations the Telmarines were making, noting the number of siege weapons, and makeshift forges for sharpening weapons, along with the troops that were milling about, going about their tasks.

Larez stopped shy of the command tent and turned to face them. "I shall announce you to my lords. What name shall I give?"

Edmund thought about it for a moment, wondering if he should give them his full title, before he answered. "Edmund the Just, of Narnia."

Larez nodded stiffly and went inside the command tent. It was more of a pavilion, Edmund could tell, with tables set up for Miraz and his men to work out strategy. There were no sides to the tent, probably to avoid the stifling heat that would come from as many people as were currently sitting there.

Edmund turned to Glenstorm and Wimbleweather. He caught the Giant's attention by waving at him, and when Wimbleweather bent down to hear, Edmund spoke in a low tone, mindful of the two men who had come with Larez to escort them.

"Be wary, and take note of as many details as you can," Edmund said quickly as he noted Larez returning. "Peter and the others will need as much intelligence as we can bring them."

Glenstorm nodded in understanding. Looking up at the Giant, the Centaur quietly ordered him to take a seat. With Wimbleweather looming over everyone, he was very intimidating. While that had been part of the plan of sending the Giant with them, they also didn't want to unnerve the Telmarines to the point that they would attack out of fear, which they were known to do.

Wimbleweather slowly lowered himself down, but the ground still trembled violently as the Giant sat, which made several of the nearby Telmarines cast nervous looks towards them.

Larez returned just then and indicated that Edmund was to follow him. Edmund nodded curtly and followed the scout towards the pavilion. He stepped up to the small speaker's area that was in the center of the three tables that had been set out for Miraz and the Council of Lords.

"Your Majesty, my Lords…Edmund the Just of Narnia," Larez said, bowing before he backed out of the tent and waited to be summoned when the meeting was over.

Edmund didn't bow. He was not going to show a fraction more respect for the usurper than was absolutely necessary, and no matter what the Telmarines believed, Edmund outranked all of them, since he had been chosen as one of Narnia's Kings by Aslan himself. He kept his eyes on Miraz, but didn't fail to note the other eleven lords who sat at the table, nor the man who stood behind him and to his left.

To be honest, Miraz was not what he had been expecting. The man was tall, but stocky. He was dressed in the same leather clothing and steel armor worn by the rest of the Telmarines, rather than the gold armor he had been wearing before. He had a full beard that gave his face a pointed appearance, and dark eyes set under thick, dark brows. His sword was lying unsheathed on the table in front of him, but he sat back, somewhat relaxed and at ease, as if trying to signify that Edmund was of no concern to him.

Inwardly, Edmund scoffed at the man. For all of his posturing and posing, it was apparent that he wasn't fully comfortable with his new rank. Edmund recognized the signs clearly. Fifteen years of ruling, and dealing with any number of nobles and merchants who felt that they had to act more intimidating than they actually were had given him all the experience that he needed to assess Miraz in only a few short seconds.

About the only thing that Edmund noticed that he did respect was the muscle that was underneath the slightly stocky appearance. Whatever else years of acting as regent had done for the man, he was obviously not going to be a pushover in the single combat. For a moment a flash of worry assailed him as he thought about Peter facing this man, and he fought to keep his face expressionless. Peter had faced more than his share of men and creatures that outweighed him over the years, and he had never failed to come out victorious. Oreius hadn't been lying or exaggerating when he told Caspian that Peter was one of the best champions in the single sword that Narnia had ever seen.

"What message do you carry?" Miraz asked suddenly, breaking the staring contest that they had been having as he gestured towards the scroll tucked into Edmund's belt.

Edmund reached for the scroll and unrolled it. He quickly skimmed the greeting with his eyes, a lesson that his oration tutor had drilled into him so that he wouldn't stumble over the words, as he took a breath and began reading. "Peter, by the gift of Aslan, by election, by prescription, and by conquest, High King over all Kings in Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, to Miraz, Son of Caspian the Eighth, sometime Lord Protector of the Telmarines and now styling himself King of Narnia, greetings."

He chanced a quick glance up to see Miraz's reaction to Peter's words. As he expected, the man looked quietly furious and affronted. Edmund didn't have time to see more as he looked back at the parchment. "In order to prevent the effusion of blood, and to avoid all other inconveniences likely to grow from the wars now levied on Our realm of Narnia, it is Our pleasure to advance Our royal person on behalf of Our trusty Caspian, tenth of the lineage, in clean wager of battle to prove upon your Lordship's body that the said Caspian is lawful King under Us in Narnia, both by Our gift and by the laws of the Telmarines. Second, the challenge shall thus prove your Lordship is twice guilty of treachery, both in withholding the dominion of Narnia from said Caspian and in the most abhominable, bloody, and unnatural murder of your kindly lord and brother King Caspian, Ninth of that name. Wherefore, We do heartily provoke, challenge, and defy your Lordship to the said combat and monomachy. The fight shall be to the death and the reward shall be total surrender. Thus have We sent these letters by the hand of Our well-beloved and royal brother Edmund, to whom We have given full rights of speaking in Our Name and on Our behalf. Given at Our lodgings in Aslan's How this twelfth day of the month of Greenroof in the year 1039."

Edmund lowered the scroll and quietly began rolling it up while Miraz fumed and glared at him with those smoldering dark eyes. For a moment he seemed to be having difficulty controlling himself, but after a moment he relaxed and though he continued to glare at Edmund his attitude was more passive. Again, Edmund noticed that Miraz's entire being was a pose for the other Lords that sat around them, and he was interested to see how he would react.

"Tell me, Prince Edmund…"

"King."

Miraz paused, caught off guard. "Pardon?"

Edmund smirked, loving how with a single word, he was able to effectively derail Miraz's thoughts, thus throwing him further off balance. "It's King Edmund, actually. Just King though. Peter's the High King." He stifled a laugh at the puzzled looks on the men's faces. "I know it's confusing."

Miraz tapped on the arm of his chair for a moment before he finally spoke again. "Why would we risk such a proposal when our armies could wipe you out by nightfall?"

We wouldn't go down that quickly, Edmund thought derisively, scoffing at the thought that the battle would go so smoothly in the Telmarines' favor. Apparently they had never learned the lesson about cornering a desperate foe with everything to lose. "Haven't you already underestimated our numbers?" he asked instead. "Only a week ago, Narnians were extinct."

Miraz frowned deeply at the reminder. "And so you will be again."

Edmund resisted the urge to smirk. Despite his casual attitude, Miraz was hooked. Winning this battle would secure the throne for him forever, because there would be no one to challenge his authority. The temptation for that kind of power was irresistible to him. Now all that was left was to provoke him further so that he would stop thinking logically and start reacting emotionally. "Well, then you should have little to fear."

Miraz laughed, and this time there was a note of scorn in his voice. "This is not a question of bravery."

Hook, line, sinker, Edmund thought triumphantly. Raising the rolled up letter, he pointed it at Miraz as he spoke, the gesture becoming a taunt that he knew the man would not be able to ignore. "So you're bravely refusing to fight a swordsman half your age?"

His words wiped the scornful smile off of Miraz's face as the usurper leaned forward menacingly. "I didn't say I refused."

One of the other Telmarine Lords who was sitting a few chairs down from Miraz spoke up suddenly. "You shall have our support, Your Majesty, whatever your decision."

A second lord spoke up as well. "Sire, our military advantage alone provides the perfect excuse to avoid what might otherwise –"

Miraz, in a move that caught Edmund by surprise as well as the rest of the Lords, leapt to his feet and seized the sword that was resting on the table in front of him. "I'm not avoiding anything!"

Edmund's eyes narrowed and a faint frown crossed his face as he watched this exchange. There was more going on here than Caspian and the rest of the Narnian leadership were aware of. Well-used to the manipulative efforts of those who would try to seize power or the upper hand in a negotiation, he realized that the Council of Lords might have given Miraz the throne, but they still didn't trust him to lead them, nor were they above scheming to take his place at the first opportunity.

The same lord spoke up again after a moment, his tone meant to placate. "I was merely pointing out that my lord is well within his rights to refuse."

Miraz continued to glare at the man, but before he could say anything, a new voice spoke up. It was coming from the man who was standing behind Edmund, on his left. "His Majesty would never refuse. He relishes the chance to show the people the bravery of their new king."

Miraz's glare turned on the new speaker before he slowly looked back at Edmund. "You." Raising the sword, he pointed the tip at Edmund's heart. "You should hope your brother's sword is sharper than his pen."

Edmund smiled darkly at the perceived threat. "Oh, I can assure you, Lord Miraz," he again refused to acknowledge the usurper's rank, "it is more than sharp enough to decide this battle." He paused and allowed his words to sink in. "We are agreed upon the terms? Total surrender to the winner, and to the death?"

Miraz nodded. "Agreed."

"Shall the combat be held at four marks past the noon hour, at the ruins in front of the How?" Edmund asked. It was only just nine marks past midnight, which would give them seven hours to make the preparations. With the sun in the sky until nearly eight marks past noon during these late summer days, the battle should be long concluded before sunset. The ruins would make a perfect battlefield for the duel, since they consisted of a paved floor, surrounded by a few tumbled down walls, but they were open enough that both armies would be able to view the fight with ease.

Miraz nodded again and Edmund returned the nod. "You and your contingent will have safe passage to the ruins, with no need for the green branches to signify your intent. Under the rules of single combat, you will be permitted to bring three men with you."

Miraz's gaze narrowed at the thought of Edmund lecturing him on the rules, but Caspian had explained everything about the Telmarine tradition while they had been drafting the challenge letter and working out their strategy. Fortunately, the Telmarine rules didn't differ that greatly from the Narnian ones.

Edmund nodded his head stiffly. "I shall bear your acceptance to the High King and he shall meet you on the battlefield at the appointed time." Turning on his heel, he stalked gracefully out of the command tent to where his companions were waiting for him, passing Larez as he went. The commander hurried after him, since his job was to escort Edmund's party safely out of the camp, but Edmund wasn't interested in waiting.

Glenstorm was waiting for him, and Wimbleweather rose to his feet as Edmund approached. Edmund took the branch that Glenstorm had been holding for him and together the three of them strode back to the edges of the camp, Larez and his men scrambling to keep up.

"Your Majesty, how –" Glenstorm began, but Edmund shook his head sharply, cutting the Centaur off. He didn't want to discuss what had happened while they were still within earshot of the Telmarines.

Fortunately, Glenstorm understood and fell silent as they left the Telmarine encampment and headed back across the field that separated the How from the edge of the woods. As they reached the halfway point of the field, Larez and the other two soldiers stopped, while Edmund and his companions continued on, back to the How.

When they were a safe enough distance away that there was no one who could overhear them, Edmund turned to Glenstorm. "He accepted. The combat will be held at four marks past noon. Bring word to my siblings, please, and let them know that I will meet them in the planning chamber shortly." The Centaur would be able to carry the message to Peter and the others much faster than Edmund could – and it would give him a chance to change out of his armor as he had promised Krisalyn.

Glenstorm bowed his head. "Yes, King Edmund." Shifting into a trot, the Centaur general took off, heading into the How. Wimbleweather also headed into the How, leaving Edmund alone with a rough bow once they were inside. Edmund immediately headed for the girls' room so he could put his gear away.

He found Krisalyn waiting for him, and the expression on her face caused a frown to cross his. In the years that she had ruled alongside them, she had been as good – if not better – than they at concealing her emotions behind a serene countenance, since she had been trained in such things her entire life. But now her face showed an odd mixture of calm tranquility and anxious fear and it sent a similar jolt through his own body.

"Did something happen?" he asked as he started to shed his gloves and the pauldrons and collar he was wearing.

"No, nothing that I'm aware of," she told him, a look of confusion joining the already volatile emotions crossing her face. "Did Miraz accept Peter's challenge?"

Edmund nodded. "He took the bait. There was not a single chance that he was going to let a perceived insult like the letter Peter sent him go unanswered." He turned his back to her so that she could help him remove his tunic and mail. The combat will be held at four marks past noon today."

Krisalyn was silent for several seconds as she helped him out of his armor. "Edmund, may I ask a favor of you?"

Edmund glanced over his shoulder at her before he turned to face her. She held the over tunic he'd been wearing earlier out to him and he shrugged into it. "Of course, Kris."

"Will you…will you watch out for Peter?" Krisalyn's voice was soft and uncertain. "During the combat, I mean? I know you can't interfere…but…if there's anything you can do…" Her violet eyes were anxious and filled with desperation that he'd never seen from her before.

"Kris…" Edmund sighed. She was asking the impossible and she knew it. "You said it yourself. I can't interfere with the duel. Whatever happens, it's going to depend on Peter's skill, or Aslan's grace to determine the outcome."

"I just…I can't lose him again, Edmund. I won't be able to stand with him during the combat. Even if Peter allowed it – which I know he won't – I wouldn't be able to watch. I believed that I had lost him once and it nearly destroyed me. I – sending him off to a fight to the death…" she turned away from him abruptly and buried her face in her hands. A sob racked her slender frame and made her quiver all over.

Edmund's heart wrenched. He loved his brother more than he had words to describe. Peter had always been there to protect them, help them, give them council when they needed it – he had taken over the role of their father when they first arrived in Narnia, and over the years that had slowly faded back into the role of an overprotective big brother. He would do anything to keep Peter safe, including die for him, although he knew that if he did that it would destroy Peter.

But Krisalyn…she loved Peter as much if not more than either he or the girls. When they were together, during the years of their rule, they had both seemed to complete each other. The love and the passion between them had been obvious in the way they looked at each other. Their love had been conveyed over and over through a gesture or a gentle touch – and when they had danced together at feasts and parties, everyone watching had noticed that the world had seemed to vanish for their High King and his Queen. It was one reason why seeing the tension between them now was so hard to bear. Edmund knew that Peter still loved Krisalyn as deeply now as he had when they had first married.

Hesitating for a bare moment, Edmund stepped up to Krisalyn. She was taller than he was, and for a moment it was disorienting, since he remembered a time when they'd been nearly the same height. He had intended to touch her shoulder, but was forced to settle for touching her arm instead. "Kris…Peter's the best duelist in Narnia. Miraz might outweigh him, but I suspect that Peter's the better trained – and you know he will do everything he must to survive. He won't leave you alone again – and he won't leave Aislynn now that he's met her. He loves you both so much."

"There's still so much that you don't know. Peter and I both have a great deal that we need to work out between us – and that's why I need you to look out for him. I – I have faith that he'll get through the single-combat." She paused for a moment and a small sob escaped her. "It's the battle that I know is coming…that's what I most fear." Her voice was thick with tears. "The Telmarines cannot be trusted, Edmund. Even if Peter wins, they'll find some way to launch an attack, I just know it."

"I do too, Kris," Edmund said quietly. "So does Peter. He's not actually expecting the Telmarines to surrender; he's just trying to buy time for Lucy and Aislynn to find Aslan. We know that the battle is coming, and so does the rest of the army. He won't be caught off-guard. Oreius, Glenstorm, and I will all be standing with him as the Marshals of the lists." Edmund stepped around his sister-in-law so that he could look her in the face. "We cannot interfere in the duel, but we'll protect him as much as we can."

Krisalyn nodded and took a deep breath as her hand – shaking slightly – came up to wipe at her eyes. "I know you will, Edmund. Thank you."

She turned and headed for the door, and Edmund turned back to begin putting his armor away. It was only a moment though, before he heard her grunt and he turned back. Krisalyn was leaning against the wall, one hand braced against it as if that was the only thing keeping her upright. Her other hand was passed in front of her eyes in an absent-minded gesture that sent a thrill of alarm through him. "Kris?" He hurried over to her side and took her arm to steady her as she looked like she was going to slide to the floor. "What's wrong?"

"I'm – fine," she said, her voice distant and vague. "Just…just a little dizzy. It…it'll pass in a moment or two."

Edmund glanced around and spotted a chair in the corner. Well, in reality it was a large piece of stone that had been carved to form a flat seat. Conditions in the How were rough, and there was no real furniture to be found, but it would do for the moment. He carefully pulled Krisalyn back to her feet and guided her over to the "chair" and helped her to sit before he knelt in front of her.

Her violet eyes were distant and unfocused, and she continually seemed to want to pass her hand in front of her face, as if that would help her focus on something. "Krisalyn, how long has this been happening?"

"Hmm?" Her voice was as distant as her eyes.

"Kris!" he sharpened his tone, trying to help her focus on something. "How long have you been feeling dizzy? You said it would pass…this must have happened to you before. How long has it been happening?"

She blinked dazedly once or twice more before her eyes came back into some degree of focus. "Edmund?"

"Yes, Kris. What's wrong with you? Is this the reason Peter was so upset before?"

Krisalyn looked acutely uncomfortable, but she nodded slowly. "I've been having these dizzy spells for some time," she told him quietly. "The healers at Anvard have been trying to treat me for them, somewhat unsuccessfully."

"How long has this been going on?" Edmund repeated.

"Two years," Krisalyn told him, looking even more uncomfortable. "The healers have tried several different herbal remedies, changes in my diet, and exercises, but nothing they've tried has been a long-term success. They took me off of all the treatments a few days ago, to let me recover from the different treatments before they tried anything new."

Edmund's eyes narrowed. That wasn't like the healers he knew. No healer would completely stop a treatment unless there was literally nothing more that they could do and continuing a treatment would only prolong the patient's pain and suffering. For the healers to stop all forms of treatment meant that they didn't know anything else that could be tried and they were quietly advising the patient that there was no hope, and all the patient could do was wait to die. It went against everything that a healer believed in to take that step, because healers were some of the most tenacious and stubborn-willed folk that he knew. They couldn't stand to see anyone suffer if they could do anything to help.

Before he could say anything, or voice his suspicions, Krisalyn seemed to anticipate what he would say. She looked him in the eyes, clarity and focus having fully returned and nodded slowly. "Despite what they say, I know the truth. There is nothing more they can do for me, Edmund. Whatever time I have remaining rests solely in Aslan's paws."

Edmund couldn't believe that. "But you and Peter just found each other again!"

Krisalyn nodded again. "I know. And it will be difficult when my time finally comes, Edmund. Peter will no doubt feel the loss deeply, as will Aislynn. But they'll have each other, and they'll have you, Susan, and Lucy." She offered him a tremulous, not entirely convincing smile. "I'm all right, Edmund. I have come to accept it. My only desire is to see Aislynn claim the throne that is rightfully hers and to see her and the Narnians content before Aslan calls me home. I may not be ready for it, considering everything that has happened, but Aslan will be waiting to welcome me, and Peter and I will meet again someday. That's enough for me."

Edmund shook his head wordlessly. "There must be something…" he trailed off, a frown crossing his face as he pummeled his brain, trying to think of something that could help his sister-in-law. Peter wouldn't just be upset when Krisalyn died – he'd be devastated by her loss. Leaving her behind in Narnia when they had returned to England had all but shattered him – only the faint, tenuous hope that they might return to Narnia had allowed him to hold on until Caspian had summoned them. But if Peter lost Krisalyn now, to death of all things, it would completely destroy him, and Edmund didn't know if anything alive – even his daughter – would be enough to save his spirit.

Then, something occurred to him. "Kris…you have Rhindon…do you also have Lucy's cordial?"

Krisalyn nodded. "Of course, as well as her dagger and Susan's bow and arrows. I had Susan's horn, until I gave it to Doctor Cornelius to use to convince Caspian when it was time for him to reveal the existence of the Narnians. Why?"

"Have you tried taking Lucy's cordial to heal you of whatever is making you ill?" Edmund asked, his face and tone intense.

"I –" she trailed off. "No, I haven't."

"Maybe that's the key!" Edmund said. "The cordial can restore someone to full health from a wound – I see no reason why it couldn't also heal a disease."

Krisalyn looked deeply thoughtful. "I never considered it," she said slowly. "All of these years, I've considered myself the guardian of those treasures that we spirited away with us when we fled – and in twenty-five years, I've opened the chest that holds them but once before today."

"You should definitely consider it, Kris," Edmund told her gently. "It could solve all of your problems."

She nodded slowly, in agreement. "I will speak to Lucy about it," she promised. "The cordial belongs to her, and I will not use it without her consent – and she may know for sure. I know Peter's feelings on the cordial and how precious it is."

"Lucy wouldn't care," Edmund told her. "And despite Peter's feelings on the subject, if Lucy knew you need it, she wouldn't hesitate to give you a drop, no matter what Peter has to say. Peter might be upset, but in the end he would thank her, if it meant that he wouldn't lose you."

"Perhaps. Right now I am not in any immediate need, and I would prefer that everyone keeps their mind on what they must do. Lucy needs to be focused on finding Aslan, Peter needs to be focused on the duel, and you and Susan need to worry about keeping Peter safe." She smiled wanly at him. "But I promise I will consider it."

Edmund nodded and reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently. "I swear I'll do everything I can to help Peter."

She returned the gentle squeeze on his hand, her violent eyes welling up with tears. "I know you will, Edmund. The one thing that Peter – and I – always could count on was your devotion to him." She rose to her feet, no sign of the dizziness this time, and pulled him up with her. "Go to him, Edmund. He'll need your information. I am going to find Aislynn and Lucy and speak to them. But, if you would, send Peter here when he's going to prepare for the fight."

Edmund nodded, understanding. Krisalyn had always helped Peter don his armor before he left Cair Paravel for a battle, and each time she had, he had returned safely. It was their little ritual, and he had no doubt that it would work for them again. But if by chance something were to go wrong, they would have a chance to say whatever it was that needed to be said. He had seen her reaction, and Peter's, and he knew that things were not completely perfect between his brother and his sister-in-law, and all he could hope was that their love was strong enough to pull them through the difficulties that they were enduring.

Both of them swore to use their love and the blessings from Aslan to endure all trials and suffering that their lives would bring, and to do it together, Edmund reminded himself. Of the four of them, he was the least romantic and poetic – but even he had been touched by the simplicity of the vows Peter and Krisalyn had sworn before Aslan and all of Narnia on their wedding day – and he hadn't failed to note that they had kept those vows, honoring them as the most sacred promises that they could make to each other. Knowing that Peter had found someone like Krisalyn to share his life with had given Edmund hope that all four of them could and would make good marriages one day.

"Kris, are you sure you're all right? Peter would never forgive me if I left and something happened to you," Edmund asked.

She smiled at him. "I'm certain, Edmund. The vertigo comes and goes at unpredictable intervals, but I've been coping with it for two years. I've never lost consciousness or struck my head as a result – I just lose my sense of balance and my awareness of where I am for a few minutes. Peter and the others will need you. Go."

Edmund nodded again, hesitated at the doorway, and then moved out into the corridor. Knowing what he did now, he understood Peter's terseness earlier, after he and Krisalyn had discussed sending Aislynn with Lucy. He also understood the expression that he had seen on Aislynn's face. She was frightened for her mother, but she knew everything that was going on. There was no way that she couldn't. She was afraid of losing her mother, but she was trying to be strong, and she was putting Narnia's needs first – she had even before she had learned that she was the heir to the Narnian throne. The choice between family and duty was tearing at Aislynn, but she was doing what she must – sacrificing her personal desires for her people, as a true Queen must.

Aslan, if it be your will, keep Aislynn, Krisalyn, and Peter safely in your paws and see them through this struggle. Let them emerge on the other side with hearts, lives, and love intact. They are your children, and they deserve a chance for happiness, Edmund prayed silently as he hurried through the corridors. It wasn't far from the chambers where they had been sleeping since their arrival to the room that was being used for planning this campaign.

When he entered the planning room, he found Susan, Cor, and Corin waiting with the Narnian Council, both Old and New. He scanned the room but didn't see Peter, Aislynn, Caspian or Lucy among those that had gathered. He frowned for a moment before he remembered that Peter, Lucy, and Aislynn were probably planning out the route that Aislynn and Lucy would take to reach the Dancing Lawn as quickly as possible. Edmund didn't believe that they would have to go all the way there before Aslan found them, however. The very act of riding in search of him should be enough to draw Aslan to them, provided that their hearts were true and sincere.

"Edmund!" Susan called as he stepped up to the table. "Glenstorm told us Miraz accepted the challenge."

Edmund nodded. "Aye, he did. The combat will be held at four marks past noon, at the ruins out in front of the How. But I think there is more going on here than we were aware of."

"How so?" Cor asked, curiously.

"Where's Peter?" Edmund asked instead.

"He should be here momentarily with Lucy, Aislynn, and Caspian," Corin said. "They went to look over the horses and find one that was swift enough to carry them through the Telmarine sentry line unscathed."

"And we did," Lucy said, entering the room with Peter and Caspian behind her. "Caspian has graciously loaned us the use of Destrier."

"Destrier is one of the fastest and strongest in the royal stables," Caspian explained. "Carrying Queen Lucy and Princess Aislynn will be nothing for him."

"Where is Aislynn?" Susan asked.

"She and Queen Krisalyn wished to talk for a few minutes, alone," Caspian explained.

"What word, Ed?" Peter asked.

"He'll meet you on the field of battle at the fourth hour," Edmund said, "at the ruins outside."

Peter nodded, his mouth tightening into a straight line. "What did you think of him, Ed?"

Edmund chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment as he thought about his impressions of the man. "He definitely outweighs you, and he's taller, so he'll have a slightly longer reach than you do. He's definitely been trained to fight – I saw some muscle on him – although it seems that he hasn't had to do a lot of fighting as of late. He seemed to be reaching that point when he's just starting to creep past his peak as a fighter."

Peter nodded again, his blue eyes turning thoughtful. "That was my impression of him when I saw him at the Cair."

"Although he is a prince by birth," Caspian inserted, "he did fight with the army. He was among the army at the time that my people invaded Narnia. A Telmarine prince is expected to serve with the army for at least five years, whether or not he is in line for the throne, so that he'll understand the workings of the army if he must lead them into a conflict."

"So he was trained to fight then," Peter said.

Caspian nodded. "Up until a year or so ago, he sparred regularly with General Glozelle, and the two of them are quite evenly matched. General Glozelle was my weapons instructor as well, and I know that he's good."

"Peter is better," Edmund said.

"We don't know that, Ed," Peter cautioned. "I'm younger, but I'm also not at the peak of my strength and stamina the way I was when we left Narnia."

"Peter, Miraz was trained by a Man," Edmund argued. "You were trained by a Centaur, Fauns, and Dwarves, and you sparred with so many others during our reign. They all have different styles that you incorporated into your own."

"King Edmund is correct, Your Majesty. You learned our styles as your talent and your own abilities grew," Oreius added. "You have a broader foundation to stand upon than the usurper does, and you will likely know techniques that he does not."

Peter shrugged, somewhat self-deprecatingly. Edmund frowned deeply at his brother's response. He knew that Peter was trying to keep the Narnians from getting their hopes up too high – it was just barely possible that Miraz was the better fighter, after all. But Edmund knew just how good his brother was. Peter didn't like to brag about his ability, but on the battlefield, Peter had an aura about him. It wasn't the same as his royal aura that he used when in formal court or during negotiations. That one, although powerful, was subtler, meant to enforce his authority as High King. On the battlefield, however, Peter became a completely different person, and his aura had changed as a result. Rhindon had become an extension of his arm, and the power and strength of his aura had been so great that Edmund knew of several instances when Peter's simple appearance on the field had been enough to cow Narnia's enemies into surrendering, rather than watch their forces decimated by Narnia's Champion. Peter was Narnia's Sword, and like Rhindon, he was made of steel that shone with its own light and struck swiftly and cleanly when he was provoked. On the battlefield, Peter was Narnia's, and Aslan's, and he moved at their bidding and their need.

Deciding that it was wiser to change the subject, however, Edmund cleared his throat. "There's more. I think Miraz's initial response would have been to refuse the challenge, even after I provoked him. He's confident in the superiority of his army and their numbers."

"So?" Peter asked, raising one eyebrow as everyone looked at Edmund.

"The Council of Lords truly doesn't trust Miraz. There were two of his Lords who…" Edmund paused, looking for the words that would describe what he had sensed. "I'm not really sure how to describe it. They almost seemed to be encouraging Miraz to refuse, but there was a tone in their voices that was goading him into accepting at the same time."

"Reverse psychology?" Peter asked.

"Almost," Edmund agreed. "But it was more subtle than that. I noticed it because of all of the dealings that we used to have with those stuffed shirt merchants from Calormen, but I don't think Miraz even realized what they were doing. If he did, he hid it really well."

Caspian looked thoughtful. "Where were they sitting?"

"One was on Miraz's right – the seat right next to him in fact," Edmund said. "The other was…two seats to the left, I think. I didn't catch their names, but then there was also a man who was standing behind me. He wasn't part of the Council as far as I could tell. He was definitely a soldier, but a high-ranking officer."

"The officer was probably General Glozelle," Caspian said. "He's served in that position ever since my father died, or so I've been told. The man on the right – that would have been Lord Sopespian. After my Uncle, he's the next highest ranked member of the Council, and if something were to happen to Miraz and to me, he would be the next in line for the throne, and would probably be named regent until my cousin was old enough to take the throne. The other lord…I'm not sure."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "It seems as though Lord Sopespian may have deigns on the throne as well."

Caspian huffed out a tiny breath. "That doesn't surprise me. The entire Council is very ambitious. They are always looking for ways to undermine each other. Before my cousin was born, I was only a few months away from being crowned, and I was already planning on replacing the lot of them after I was named King. They may have served my father for the short time that he was King, but I never trusted them, nor did I particularly like them."

Edmund shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was some form of treachery that we'll need to watch for, in addition to whatever Miraz tries during the combat."

"You expected anything different, Ed?" Peter asked.

"Not really, no."

Elsewhere in the How…

Krisalyn found Aislynn, Peter, Lucy, and Caspian looking over the horses that they had available after she left Edmund. The four of them were examining one particularly large and strong looking stallion, and Caspian was affectionately stroking the stallion's nose as they studied him.

"Are you sure, Caspian?" Lucy was saying as Krisalyn drew within earshot.

"I'm certain. Destrier is the finest horse in the Telmarine stables – strong and swift. If any beast can carry you safely past the lines, it is he."

"Thank you," Lucy said softly. "I'm sure that he will be perfect."

"Come, we should see what news Edmund has brought from the enemy camp," Peter said as Caspian backed the stallion up into the temporary stabling that the Narnians had created and tied him up.

"Peter," Krisalyn spoke up as they started to turn towards the passage that would lead to the planning room.

"Kris?" Peter turned. "What is it?"

"May I speak to Aislynn for a few minutes? Alone?" Krisalyn asked. "I'll send her to you as soon as we've finished."

Peter nodded. "Of course. I don't think there is much that she can do in regards to the final planning. We've prepared a route for them to take, but all that is left is to put the final details for the defense in place."

Aislynn stepped away from the group and walked over to her mother's side as the other three turned back towards the passage. She waited patiently for Krisalyn to speak.

Krisalyn studied her daughter for a moment, seeing again her striking resemblance to Peter. It was in her eyes mostly, along with a few expressions that were purely Peter and never failed to strike a blow to Krisalyn's heart when she saw them. "Walk with me, Aislynn." She turned and headed in the opposite direction, and Aislynn fell into step beside her.

"Was there something that you needed, Mother?" Aislynn asked after they had walked for a minute without Krisalyn speaking.

Krisalyn nodded. "Aislynn, promise me that you will be careful. I know why you feel that you must do this, and I understand…but I do not want to lose you."

"Mother, this is something that I can do. There's no way to know what will happen, but I know Aslan will protect us, and if Aunt Lucy is right he will find us before we get too far away from the How. Aslan is everything that is wise, just, and good. He won't let the Narnians stand alone, not as long as we have faith in him."

Krisalyn marveled at her daughter's quiet faith. It had been a long time since she'd been able to look at her faith in Aslan in the same way. Years of betrayal and suffering had jaded her perspective on the Great Lion and his ways. While she still believed in him, she knew that she could no longer have the same quiet, simple faith that she had raised her daughter to have – and teaching her that quiet faith had been exceedingly difficult.

That had been one of many reasons why she had not told Aislynn who her father was, or that Krisalyn was a Queen of Narnia, or that she was the heir to the Narnian throne. She had not wanted her own experiences as a Queen to influence her daughter's perception of who Aslan was, and possibly jade her daughter the same way.

"Mama?"

"Yes, Aislynn?" Krisalyn asked softly as she helped her daughter choose a nightgown and get ready for bed.

"Can I ask you something?" Aislynn looked up at her, trustingly, with her huge, blue-violet eyes. Krisalyn had to clamp down on her emotions, as she did every single time that Aislynn looked at her with those beautiful eyes, so much like Peter's that it made her want to weep for what she had lost. The little girl pointed at one soft, white gown that was embroidered with tiny purple roses.

"Of course, sweetling. What is it?" Krisalyn gathered the chosen nightgown in her hands and gently slipped it over her daughter's head, catching the ends of the sleeves and holding them out so that Aislynn could slip her arms through them as the gown fell down around her ankles.

"Who is Asln?"

Krisalyn frowned. "Who? I don't recognize that name."

"Asln. I heard Corin use it today when he was walking me to see Ratha for my lesson. A servant came up to us and told him something, and Corin said, 'Asln's main.'"

Krisalyn sucked in a tiny breath as she realized what her daughter was speaking of. "Aslan, sweetheart. Corin said 'Aslan's Mane.'"

"Who is Aslan?" the little girl asked as she walked over to her bed and climbed in.

Krisalyn sat down on the edge of the bed as Aislynn snuggled down under the covers. She reached out and brushed Aislynn's thick black hair back from her forehead. "Aslan is the Great Lion who created Narnia, and Archenland, and Calormen, sweetheart. Over a thousand years ago, he sang the world into being, along with all of the creatures who live in it."

"Even me?"

Krisalyn smiled softly at the innocent question. "He gave you to me, darling. You are one of the greatest blessings that he bestowed upon me." She leaned down and kissed Aislynn's brow. "Aslan is the Son of the Emperor-Over-Sea, and Narnia is the seat of his grace, although we here in Archenland also revere him and respect him for his power and his love for those who put their trust and faith in him. To stand in his presence is to feel like you are wrapped in a blanket made of love. I thank Aslan every day for giving you to me."

"Aren't lions dangerous?"

"Aslan is a good Lion, but yes, when it is necessary, he can be very dangerous, because he's not a tame lion.. But for those who love and trust him, and listen to his voice, he has nothing but love, compassion, and gentleness."

"I'd like to meet him someday," Aislynn said sleepily.

"I'm sure you will, sweetheart. Even if you don't meet him until he calls you to his Country, however, he knows you and he loves you."

"Sing me a song, Mama," Aislynn whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Krisalyn hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Close your eyes sweetheart." When her daughter did so, Krisalyn took a deep breath and began to sing as she continued to stroke her daughter's hair, her eyes closed in concentration. "I pray Aslan will hold you close, and keep you through the night. That you will wake up smiling, in the early morning light. That he will always comfort you, and make you brave and strong. I pray that you will follow him your whole life long. I pray that you will grow up, to be wise and good and true. I pray that you will please him, in everything you do. I pray that you will hear his voice, and learn to sing his song. I pray that you will follow him your whole life long."

Krisalyn looked down at her daughter and saw that she had drifted to sleep. Aislynn's voice was deep and steady, and Krisalyn had to blink back tears at the peaceful expression on her daughter's face. She slowly rose to her feet, so as not to disturb her daughter, and walked over to the door, pausing to dim the small lamp that she kept near the door. "Aslan, thank you for giving me such a beautiful daughter. Be with her all through her life, so that when the time comes, she will sit on Peter's throne where she belongs. Help her to be the one who will restore Narnia to her former glory," she whispered. Looking back at her daughter, she sang again, softly. "I pray Aslan will bless you, with his presence everyday. I pray that he will protect you every step along the way. Help you love what's right, and lead you far away from wrong. I pray that you will follow him your whole life long."

Krisalyn smiled faintly at the memory of Aislynn's innocent question and her simple prayer. Her song from that night, so long ago, had proven prophetic. Aislynn had grown up to be a beautiful, brave, and strong woman. She walked with Aslan everyday, blessing his name and allowing her actions to speak of her faith towards him.

"I'd like to meet him someday."

Well, after all of these years, it seemed that her daughter was finally going to get the chance to meet Aslan, her namesake, just as she had wanted to so long ago. She only hoped that Aislynn's simple, beautiful faith in the Great Lion would please him and help to convince him to aid the Narnians in their struggle.

"I'm sure that you're right, Aislynn," Krisalyn said softly. She fell silent again, but led her daughter through the tunnels to her room. "Wait there, sweetheart. I have something to give you."

Aislynn looked curious, but nodded. Krisalyn walked over, not to the chest that she had brought with her from Narnia, but to one of the saddlebags that she had carried on the trip from Anvard. She opened the bag and then reached in, extracting a beautiful dagger in a blue and silver sheath. The dagger had been made for her by her uncle for her sixteenth birthday, the day she had officially taken on the role as Crown Princess of Archenland. She hadn't used the dagger in years, but she had kept it cleaned and sharp, having always intended to give it to her daughter someday.

"Aislynn, I'd like you to have this. This dagger was given to me by King Lune when I was sixteen, the day I was officially named Crown Princess of Archenland. A few years later I gave up that title when I married your father, but I always kept the dagger handy. Now it's yours, and I pray that it will help to protect you on the dangerous road that you are about to travel."

Aislynn's eyes were wide as she took the dagger from her mother and gently pulled it out of the sheath, admiring the gleaming blade. "Mother, I…I cannot accept this."

"It's yours, Aislynn. It was always meant to be yours." Krisalyn placed her hands over her daughter's and gently guided the blade back into the sheath. "The Archenlanders don't have the custom of naming their weapons the way the Narnians do, but you are Narnian by birth, and it is perhaps time that this dagger received an appropriate name."

Aislynn only stared between the gift and her mother with wide eyes. "A…a name? I…I wouldn't even know what to call it."

Krisalyn smiled faintly. "You don't have to name it now, Aislynn. Think about it. The right name will come when you're ready. But keep it with you, and take it with you when you ride out with Lucy."

"Thank you, Mother. I cannot promise to come back safely, but I promise to be careful and to do my very best," Aislynn said as she looked into her mother's eyes, before she took the dagger and fastened it to the belt around her waist.

Krisalyn reached out and embraced her daughter tightly, forcing back the tears that were trying to gather in her eyes. She would not allow her daughter to see her cry, nor allow Aislynn to see the genuine fear that was gripping her heart. Peter's life was in danger, because of this duel and the upcoming battle, and now Aislynn was prepared to ride off in search of Aslan, likely to be pursued by the Telmarines who sought to destroy all that was beautiful and good about Narnia. She stood to lose her entire family today, and for the first time she wondered if Cor and Oreius hadn't been right. Perhaps she should have stayed at Anvard until the battle was over.

She released her daughter after a moment. "Go on. Go see your father, and then you'll need to begin making preparations. Let Oreius help you before you meet Lucy. I'll meet you in the rear passage later to see you off."

Aislynn nodded and her hand drifted to her new dagger for a moment before she turned and hurried out of the room.

Krisalyn watched her daughter go, and unbidden, the words of the song that she had sung long ago at her daughter's bedside rose up again and she began to sing softly, her eyes drifting closed as she sent the prayer up to Aslan with her whole heart. "I pray Aslan will bless you, with his presence everyday. I pray that he will protect you every step along the way. Help you love what's right, and lead you far away from wrong. I pray that you will follow him your whole life long."

She opened her eyes again and looked up the corridor that her daughter had traveled moments ago, feeling tears well up again and her throat closing against the sorrow and fear that was trying to consume her. "Aslan, protect my child and my husband. They fight for you on this day. Be with them and hold them in the safety of your majesty."

Don't forget to leave me a review! Hopefully that will keep my muse with me long enough for me to finish this story!