Author's Note: Now I am quite happy...my muse has returned for good on this story. I've gotten more written on this story in the last week than I have in the last year, I think. We're so close to the end of this story - another 4-7 chapters, I think, depending how it breaks down, so I think this is going to be my full time writing project until it is finished. If I can actually manage to finish it, this will be the single longest story I've ever finished. Also, I meant to say this last chapter, but it completely slipped my mind: Special thanks to unicorn-skydancer08 for being the 100th reviewer! I can't believe this story actually broke 100 reviews! Also, special hellos to Wise Queen and doggirlyn for joining the review boards!
Going for some heavy angst this chapter, so you may want to have a tissue or ten handy! *evil grin*
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Final Preparations
Aslan's How…one hour until the duel…
Peter found his siblings waiting for him in the Council chamber after his conversation with Oreius. He had needed that talk with Oreius, and had taken the time to explain why they had disappeared. The General had understood easily, since he remembered when they had arrived in Narnia the first time, and held even less blame for them now than he had before – which had been none. As he stepped into the room, he knew instantly how worried his family was.
His siblings were usually very open about expressing their feelings – but all four of them had learned early in their reign that sometimes the Narnians needed to see them in complete control, projecting nothing but calm confidence. Right now, all three of them were serene, but to his experienced eyes, he could tell the expressions were forced. Their eyes all showed how uneasy they were about the duel.
They knew that he was an accomplished swordsman, both in tournament fighting and full battle, but this duel was not a tournament match with clearly defined rules and penalties for breaking them. This was quite simply a fight to the death. There were no rules, and the chances that Peter would win were equal to the chances that he would die. All it would take was for Miraz to get in one lucky blow.
Peter was forcing himself to appear calm too, but his nerves were beginning to get the best of him. After all, he didn't want to die. He would go and fight his hardest, but if it happened that he had to die to save Narnia, he would give his life willingly. Whatever happened, he knew that Aslan would be with him, which did bring some comfort.
"Peter, are you sure this is the wisest course?" Ever practical, Susan's voice held a tremor of fear. There was a reason Aslan had named her Gentle, after all. She felt things deeply, which Oreius had pointed out to Peter when he had called her Narnia's Heart. Although she was always kind and compassionate, it was with her siblings that her loyalty and love was the deepest and strongest.
Peter walked over to her and embraced her. As he pulled back to look into her eyes, he tried to smile in an attempt to reassure her. "The wisest course, Su? No, probably not. But it's the only option we have. We have to buy time for Lucy and Aislynn. I can do that. I don't have to kill Miraz; I just have to keep the duel going as long as possible."
Susan trembled slightly. "I just don't want to watch you die, Peter." Other than when they had been writing the challenge, this was the first time any of them had acknowledged the possibility that Peter might die during this combat out loud. They had spoken of him being defeated, or of Miraz being the better duelist, but they had yet to use the word "die" when speaking of the outcome. But now, with the duel an hour away, they couldn't deny it any longer. Peter swallowed hard before he spoke.
"I don't want to die, Su. But you know if I do, Aslan will welcome me into his Country, and I'll be waiting for the rest of you," Peter told her.
"Don't talk like that Peter!" Lucy practically flew across the room and latched herself to Peter at the waist.
"Lu…" Susan put her hands on her sister's shoulders and tried to pull her away.
"Aslan won't let it happen!" Narnia's Valiant Queen said firmly. "Do whatever you have to Peter, but you have to win. Nothing would be the same without you."
Peter had to smile at her vehemence. "I can't do that, Lucy. I am trying to show the Telmarines – and the Narnians – what an honorable King should be, so I must fight fairly and with honor."
"We cannot lose you, Peter!" his youngest sister said fiercely. "Edmund is honorable, but he can be sneaky when he fights! I've seen him do it!"
"Lucy, stop." Susan finally managed to pull Lucy away from Peter and held her tightly. Edmund stepped over and rested one hand on Susan's shoulder as Peter looked at all of them before returning his gaze to his little sister.
He knelt down in front of Lucy so that he could look her in the eyes. "Lu, you know how much I love you, right?" At her nod, he continued. "I trust Aslan to protect me – and that's all to you. You helped me remember why I trust him. I also know that you and Aislynn will find him and bring him to help us. But I have to act with honor in this fight. That's what Aslan would expect from a King and a Knight – and I'm both. The sneaky moves that Edmund uses are all well and good on the battlefield, but not in a duel of honor. You know that I'll do my best, and I have every intention of winning, but anything could happen. Don't go away frightened or angry with me, please?"
Lucy sniffled but nodded, before she flung her arms around Peter's neck. Peter held her close, praying that Aslan would not only protect him, but also his sweet little sister and his daughter. He couldn't imagine living without either of them. Aslan, find them quickly so that they will be safe. The longer they search for you, the more danger they'll be in. Find them quickly, and protect them so that this war may end.
"Aunt Lucy?"
Peter and Lucy broke their embrace to see Aislynn standing in the doorway. When she noticed that she had their attention, she spoke again. "It's time. Caspian is waiting for us in the tunnel with Destrier."
Peter noticed that his daughter had changed into a plain brown wool dress, although this one had a divided riding skirt for practicality, a matching cloak with a hood to hide her dark hair, and she was wearing a practical pair of boots. She had a leather belt around her waist, and fastened to it was a dagger that he recognized. It had a sheath made of sapphire blue leather, ornamented with fine swirls of filigreed silver. Blue and silver were the colors of Archenland, and he knew immediately that his daughter was wearing the dagger that had belonged to her mother. She also carried a short bow over her shoulder and carried a quiver designed to be fastened to a saddle. Lucy stood out a little more in her red and silver dress, but as it was the only outfit that she had, she had no choice.
Lucy swallowed, but nodded. "I'll be right there, Aislynn." She looked back at Peter. "Please, be careful, Peter?"
"I will, but you have to promise me the same," Peter said, rising to his feet and looking over at Aislynn. "Both of you."
Both girls nodded. Peter stepped over to his daughter, hesitated for a moment, and then embraced her tightly. "Hurry back, Aislynn. We have things that we must talk about."
"I will, and we will," she whispered, returning his hug with one of her own. When she stepped back, she studied his face intently with her blue-violet eyes, as if trying to memorize his features. Then, as Lucy joined her, she bowed to Peter, Susan, and Edmund before she turned and left with Lucy. Peter watched her go until they vanished around a corner.
"Your Majesty, Queen Krisalyn requested to see you in her room," Oreius said softly.
Peter took a deep breath and nodded. He was about to go out to fight Miraz, but there were things that still needed to be said to his wife. He didn't have much time, but he knew he had time enough for a brief conversation with her before he'd have to meet Edmund. Since Edmund was acting as his squire, his younger brother would help him put on the armor that Peter had asked one of the dwarf smiths to make for him. He would have preferred his custom made suit, but there wasn't time for that detail, so a set of armor that would have been worn by a Faun was supposed to have been modified, and the additional pieces that he needed which a Faun did not were to have been crafted, since they didn't require as much work as a full set would. "Thank you, General. Ed, Su…prepare our forces while I attend to my lady, please." He had to stay calm and formal if he was going to get through this. There would be time for emotion later, when the battle was over.
They murmured agreement as Peter headed down the corridor in the opposite direction that Aislynn and Lucy had gone.
Krisalyn moved through the corridors at a brisk pace, trying to intercept Lucy before she departed on her quest. She had to hurry if she was going to make it back to her room before Peter answered her summons.
She arrived in the tunnel in time to find Caspian waiting with his stallion tacked up and ready to go. Everyone else was in place. Cor had moved his army out into the woods to set up the pincer strategy, Corin had left with half a dozen Mice, his scouts, and a regiment of infantry for their attack on the Telmarine siege weapons, and the Narnians were all in position if the call to battle came.
Caspian bowed when he spotted her approaching. "Your Majesty."
"Prince Caspian," Krisalyn acknowledged him with a nod. "Is my daughter…?"
"She has gone to alert Queen Lucy that all is in readiness," Caspian replied. "They should arrive momentarily."
She nodded before she shifted her grip on the items that she held. It was past time that they were returned to their rightful owner, after all. And now was the perfect time in which to do it, because there was a chance that they would be needed in the upcoming fight.
"Your Majesty?"
Caspian's voice broke into her thoughts. She glanced over at him. "Yes?"
The young Telmarine looked incredibly uncomfortable. She hadn't had much time to interact with him since her arrival and other than what she had heard from Cor and Corin when they were making the arrangements to bring the army up here, she knew nothing about him. Peter and the others apparently trusted him, and she did trust their judgment, but she wasn't as sure. After all, it was the Telmarines who had invaded Narnia, driven her out of her home and forced her to live in exile for twenty-five years. Of course, Caspian was too young to have had anything to do with that initial invasion, so she could not lay any direct blame on him. But it was still hard to know how to react to his presence.
And apparently, knowing that she was the Queen who had been effectively dethroned by his people made him just as uncertain how to interact with her. But he bravely continued, despite how uncomfortable he seemed to be. "Aslan named you Steadfast, didn't he?"
She glanced away, regret filling her. "He did, though I believe that it was ill-advised."
"Pardon?"
Krisalyn looked over at him again, unconsciously tightening her grip on the items in her hand. She tried to keep her voice level and calm as she spoke, not wanting to seem cross with him. "My faith in Aslan is not what it once was, Your Highness. At one time I believed in him with my whole heart – as I believed in Peter. But I'm afraid that some of my naïveté has been lost, and with it some of my faith."
Caspian frowned. "But…I thought all the people of Narnia believed in Aslan and revered him. That was what my Professor always told me."
Krisalyn sighed softly. She didn't really want to discuss her faith with the prince, but there was something about him…a sincerity perhaps…that convinced her that he wasn't just asking to make conversation. "You misunderstand me, Caspian. I still believe in Aslan – just not with the same innocence that I once did."
"Oh." The Prince fell silent for several moments, although Krisalyn had the sense that he wasn't finished and was just trying to figure out what the appropriate response would be that would allow him to continue the conversation without offending her. Sure enough, after another few seconds, he spoke again. "The reason I was asking was…" he paused again, apparently gathering his courage. "I've spent my whole life believing in my own strength and what I could accomplish on my own. I've never had a reason to believe in anything higher than that. But as we go into this fight…everyone needs to believe in Aslan, I think. I just – I don't know where to start. How do I put my faith in something besides…well, besides my own strength?"
Despite herself, Krisalyn had to feel sorry for him. What he was describing sounded very cold and lonely. Even though her relationship with Aslan had changed drastically over the years, she couldn't imagine not believing in Aslan, or revering him for everything he was and did. Having to depend solely on herself…
She tried to remember what it was like before Peter's disappearance – no, even further back than that. It had really begun to change the night that she had miscarried her first child. It was at that point that she realized that things were not always going to be happy. She had thought, prior to that night that she understood that Aslan had never promised an easy, challenge-free life. But even after her marriage, she'd had no comprehension of the level of despair and darkness that a person could sink to. She had seen everything through the innocent eyes of a child whose faith had never truly been tested, and so she believed with a naive purity that had been slowly eroded over time once that first challenge had arisen.
But before that – back when she had been innocent and happy to believe in the great Lion…what had she known then? What was it that had inspired her to believe the way she had?
Finally, she looked up and met Caspian's eyes. The Prince's dark brown orbs were hesitant, and shy. It was obvious that he wasn't used to putting himself forward in this manner, which was a remarkable difference from other royals that she had known. Even her cousins, Cor and Corin, where more outgoing and dynamic than Caspian was. Of course, they had each other to play off of, which was one of their greatest strengths. But Caspian, from what she understood, was an only child, raised mostly in isolation, away from others his age. The fact that he'd adapted so well to the situation he now found himself in spoke volumes of his character.
She sighed. "Ultimately, I would say that believing in someone like Aslan isn't about faith per se, as much as it is about trust and loyalty. You give him your trust and he acts in good will and loyalty to you. But the converse is that he trusts you to follow and act in his name and to give your loyalty to him. I don't know if that helps you, Prince, but that is really the best way that I can describe it."
Caspian nodded and looked thoughtful as he considered her words. Before the conversation could continue, Aislynn and Lucy entered the tunnel, hurrying over to join them.
"Kris! Peter was on his way to meet you," Lucy said, surprised.
"I know. I'll join him in a moment, but I felt it was time these were returned to you." Krisalyn held out a slender, lion-pommeled dagger in a red leather sheath and a matching red leather pouch that held a bottle made of diamond to her fellow Queen. She watched as Lucy's eyes lit up with recognition.
"My dagger and cordial!" Lucy exclaimed, her tone full of joy and surprise. She started to reach for them, and then paused. Hope flared in her face, before she reached out and took her dagger. She secured it firmly to her belt, before she reached for her cordial. She held the bottle in its pouch for a moment, and then thrust it at Caspian.
"Your Majesty?" Caspian asked, dropping Destrier's reins quickly to take it from her.
"Give it to Edmund before the duel. Tell him I'm ordering him to use it on himself or Peter if either of them gets hurt. Peter will refuse, but Edmund will be logical about it. Tell him that if Peter refuses the cordial when he needs it, Edmund has orders to force the cordial down his throat if he has to."
That startled Caspian enough that a small snicker escaped him, until he saw the serious look on Lucy's face and realized that she wasn't joking. He sobered quickly. "Forgive me, Queen Lucy."
"I will not lose my brother, Caspian," Lucy said fiercely. "Either of them. Narnia cannot afford to lose her High King or her Just King, and our family won't be the same without either of them."
Krisalyn appreciated Lucy's fervor on the subject, but she knew Peter, and she knew the only way he would accept a drop of the precious cordial was if he were literally at death's door – and even then he would resist, since this combat was a fight to the death. Edmund would be more practical about the matter, as Lucy had pointed out, but short of tying Peter down, he'd never get Peter to accept it. It was not her place, however, to comment on Lucy's orders. Lucy was still one of Aslan's chosen four and she still outranked Krisalyn.
Her intention for coming here had been taken care of, and she needed to go and meet Peter, but she could not help lingering to watch as Caspian slipped the leather pouch onto his belt, and then picked up Destrier's reins again to hold him so that the two young ladies could mount. Aislynn cupped her hands together so that Lucy could use them as a mounting block, since Destrier was so tall. Lucy placed her foot into Aislynn's hands, grabbed the saddle, and then yanked herself into place as Aislynn boosted her up. Once Lucy was in place, she slid back as far as she could go so that Aislynn could mount in front of her, which she did quickly, before she took the reins from Caspian.
Caspian lingered at Destrier's side for a moment and looked up at Aislynn. Krisalyn hung back, but she was watching the scene closely, and she noticed the worry that was clearly etched on his face. She frowned slightly, wondering if it was at all possible…
"Good luck," Caspian said softly.
"Thank you," Aislynn replied. Behind her, holding tightly to Aislynn's waist, Lucy managed a tight-lipped smile at Caspian.
"We'll find him, Caspian," the youngest Queen said confidently.
"I know you will, Queen Lucy. I have faith in you." Caspian hesitated a moment, before he swallowed hard. "I'll protect your brothers and sister to the best of my ability until you return with Aslan."
"Thank you," Lucy whispered.
Caspian hesitated again, as if he wanted to say something more, but instead he gave Destrier a tremendous slap on the flanks. The massive black stallion shot forward, startled, down the tunnel at a fast canter.
And that was that. Her daughter and her sister-in-law were gone. Before Caspian could say anything more, Krisalyn turned and headed back down the passageway that led back towards the chamber that she was using to meet Peter. However, she could not help winging a prayer out and hoping that Aslan would hear it. Aslan, protect my daughter, please. Find them swiftly, and keep them safe until this is over and Narnia is free again.
She headed down the nearly deserted corridors as quickly as she could without running. Although all of the Narnians should be at their posts by now, if anyone was running around making last minute preparations for any reason, she needed to look calm and confident. She had thought long and hard about what she was about to offer after she had sent Edmund out to deliver the challenge.
Edmund was perfectly capable of helping his brother ready himself for the duel – but her ritual of helping Peter had begun the first time that he had had to ride to battle after their wedding, and each time she had helped him, he had come home safely. It was a nine-year habit between them now, but she suspected that Peter wouldn't think about it. However, she was hoping that it would bring Peter some comfort and let him know that she still cared about him. Above all, she didn't want him going into this fight distracted or worried about her. All of his focus would need to be on the duel if he was going to win.
She arrived back at her room – or rather, the room she was sharing with Susan, Lucy, and Aislynn – to find Peter was waiting for her. He didn't appear anxious or worried to a casual observer, but she knew better. The calm, neutral expression was his court mask – he used it whenever he was listening to a petition or reserving judgment about a matter. It gave no clue as to what his inner thoughts might be, and if someone was hiding something, it tended to make them nervous, which could cause them to reveal more than originally intended. Peter was adept at using this mask, but she could see right through it, since she had one of her own.
"Krisalyn? You needed to see me?" His voice and the inflections in his tone and word choice always gave it away too. Right now, he was trying to stay calm, but there was a hint of anxiety in the way he said her name. The little lilt that he put on the end of her name betrayed his feelings.
"Yes, Peter, I did. I apologize for making you wait. I had to see Lucy and Aislynn off."
"I understand," Peter assured her. "What did you need from me?"
She pulled aside the makeshift curtain and entered the room, and he followed her in. She was just grateful that she had laid everything out before going down to return Lucy's things. There would not be time to get everything out now if she hadn't already made the initial preparations.
Two sets of armor – Peter's and Edmund's – were laid out on a slab of rock that was meant to be used as a table. The only items that were not visible were Peter's shield, and Rhindon. Both would be returned in a few minutes, but not yet. It was the final part of their ritual.
"Your armor has been readied for you, my King," she said, speaking the words that had become as much a part of their ritual as the actual act of assisting him had. "I pray, my lord, that you would allow me to be your humble servant, once again, as before."
Peter had stopped in his tracks as he took in the sight of the scarlet tabard, emblazoned with the golden lion, the polished plate armor, and the carefully crafted dwarf-made chainmail. It took him a moment of just gaping in surprise before he answered, "I would welcome your assistance, my lady."
Moving over to the armor, she picked up a heavy, quilted linen tunic and leggings, as well as a well-worn pair of knee-high boots and handed them to him to put on instead of what he currently wore. As he took them from her, she turned her back in order to give him some privacy. True, she had seen him unclothed before, many times in fact, but this time it felt different. There was just something about the fact that he was so much younger than she was, at least physically, that made her a little uncomfortable. Things had changed so much for them – she didn't know if they could ever be the same again.
She heard clothing rusting for a few minutes as Peter shed his current outfit and exchanged it for the quilted linen that she'd given him. The heavy fabric, quilted to add padding, was necessary to protect his skin from being chafed or bruised by the metal of his armor whenever a sword or shield made contact with it. It would also keep the individual links of the chainmail from pinching his skin uncomfortably. Yes, the quilted linen would add some weight to what he was carrying, but although it was thick, it was light-weight on account of it being late summer, so it shouldn't cause him to overheat during the combat. While she knew he wouldn't have minded wearing his other clothing under his armor, it wouldn't have provided enough protection for him.
"My armor, my lady?"
Krisalyn reached back over to the table and picked up a pair of leggings made of soft, thin, yet sturdy leather. From the knee up, the leather was visible, but below the knee the finest dwarf-made chainmail had been attached to protect Peter's legs. She handed them to Peter, who nodded in thanks and quickly climbed into them. Krisalyn knelt down and reached underneath the leather in order to pull the legs of the linen pair down so that they wouldn't be bunched up between the boots and the mail, which would negate the purpose of the linen. She rose to her feet as Peter tied the leather leggings at his waist, and turned back to the table to retrieve an open-backed hauberk of mail.
The hauberk was made completely of chainmail, and extended down over Peter's body from the neck to the knee, which was what gave his thighs the same protection as his lower legs. Peter could have chosen to wear plate mail over his thighs, but after the first battle at Beruna he had decided against it, saying that while the plate mail was fine on his lower legs and the rest of his body, it felt too restricting on his upper legs, especially while riding. The hauberk also extended from his shoulders to halfway down his forearms. Peter shrugged into the hauberk and Krisalyn moved around behind him to tie the points together to keep it closed. It tied closed at the back of his neck, the middle of his back, his waist, and at the back of each thigh, and he stood calmly while she tied it closed.
Krisalyn checked all of her knots after tying them. It was important to make sure the laces were secure, since Peter would not want his armor falling off mid-battle. Although this was a suit of armor that she had never dressed him in before – he had gone through several suits by the time they had married – she remembered the guidelines for tightening and fastening the armor properly.
She picked up several pieces of plate mail for his legs and feet and knelt down to put those on for him. First the sabatons, which covered the tops of his feet and his ankles. Each sabaton consisted of several thin, strong, dwarf-made steel that had been hammered into plates that were hinged together to allow for freedom of movement and flexibility, while protecting Peter's feet from a wayward sword. Just above the sabatons were the greaves, which extended from above his ankles up to his knees, designed similarly to the sabatons, only without the hinging, since the shin couldn't flex the same way a knee, ankle, or foot could. She tightened the straps around the back of his leg carefully, making sure not to pull them too tightly and cut off circulation, nor to fasten them so loosely that they would be shifting and slipping around his legs.
Protecting Peter's legs was especially important. Although most people didn't think of the legs as a vulnerable point, they were in fact one of the greatest vulnerabilities. Slice an opponent's leg out from under them, or break a bone with a powerful enough blow and they were helpless to avoid you, or to even get off the field. On a battlefield, a crippled fighter was a dead fighter.
"Krisalyn, this is my old armor from before we met – how did you find it?" Peter's voice was quiet, but curious.
"Many treasures were left at Cair Paravel the day we fled, but we took the ones that I believed were the most important," she replied simply as she stood again and this time picked up the steel collar that would protect his neck and throat. He stood still while she worked it over his head, making sure the padding rested exactly along the edge of the chainmail, and the collar didn't come up any higher than just below his jaw.
"Kris, what happened the day that you left Cair Paravel?"
Krisalyn turned away, her lips tightening out of his sight as she reached for the chest plate. "It was frightening, Peter. May we leave it at that?"
There was a rustling sound and a faint chink of metal before Peter's hands settled on her upper arms from behind. She was slightly taller than he was, and his breath was soft and warm on the back of her neck as he whispered, "It hurt you, Krisalyn. Please, tell me what happened. I know I cannot change what happened, but perhaps I can comfort you."
Krisalyn could hear the faint note of pleading in his voice and knew that although he was asking as her husband, he was also asking as Narnia's High King. She could choose not to answer and he would not press, but he wanted to know, badly, for more than one reason.
"It was one of the gryphon scouts, Saren, who brought us word of the invasion, but by the time we learned of it, they had penetrated almost as far as the Shuddering Woods. Oreius rallied the army and left as soon as they were assembled, and the rest of us began making contingency plans."
"Your Majesty, if Saren's report is accurate, we may have difficulty repelling them," Sir Giles Fox said as they studied maps of the area where the invaders had last been seen. "We should take precautions if the army fails."
"What would you recommend, my good Fox?" Krisalyn asked, grateful that her maid Alana had been willing to keep an eye on Aislynn so that she could attend to this crisis.
Giles looked thoughtful for a moment. "It seems to me, Majesty, that if these invaders are as cruel as Saren indicated – shooting without any reason to believe that he was hostile – we cannot permit them to trap you and Princess Aislynn here. I say that we must have a plan of escape in place so that if General Oreius sends word that these invaders cannot be stopped, we can flee to safety."
Ratha, the Black Dwarf representative, scoffed at the Fox. "Why do you believe the army will fail? Narnia has not been successfully invaded in thirty-five years."
"I do not think they will," Giles countered, wrapping his thick red tail around his body to cover his forepaws. "I trust Oreius to lead the army well, but I feel we must have a contingency plan. There is the matter of Aslan's warning. He told Tumnus that a great danger lay in Narnia's future. That was the reason for the construction of the How, after all."
The others, even Ratha, had to admit that the Fox had a valid point. Krisalyn spoke up then. "If we must flee, we shall head first for the How, but if that fails, we must make for Anvard. My uncle will not deny us refuge, and he will send his army to assist us."
"Those who would go with you, should travel lightly," Owain said. "I would not be able to flee south regardless." The stately Oak Dryad was steady and calm as he spoke.
"I think that we should also conceal all references to the Kings and Queens, especially you and Princess Aislynn," Tumnus added. "If these invaders are seeking to claim Narnia for themselves and are not aware that this is an inhabited land, we cannot let them learn there is a living heir."
"I would agree with you, Tumnus," Krisalyn said, shuddering at the idea that the invaders might hunt Aislynn down to break the royal bloodline and give them uncontested rights to the throne of Narnia. "However, there are some things too precious to leave behind that we cannot risk falling into their hands. Rhindon, for one. Also, King Edmund's swords and armor, Queen Susan's bow and horn, and Queen Lucy's cordial and dagger. The rest we could conceal in the deepest treasure room."
"You protected these things?" Peter asked quietly as Krisalyn finished attaching his shoulder pauldrons to his chest plate. As she stepped away from him and picked up the scarlet tabard that was emblazoned with a golden, rampant lion, he rolled his shoulder and flexed his arms to make sure that they were fastened properly and that he'd have full range of motion to swing his sword.
"They were important to you and the others, thus they were important to Narnia," Krisalyn replied as she eased the velvet tabard over his head. "When Oreius returned a few days later, exhausted and injured, we fled. We tried to reach the How, but the way was blocked, so instead we headed back to the coast and traveled due south until we reached the mountains. The main pass to Archenland was also blocked – the Telmarines were moving faster than we were, because we were traveling by night, in secret, and they were moving openly. With the aid of the Fauns and the Naiad who lived in Glasswater Creek, we found a pass through the mountains."
Peter reached out and stilled her hands as she fastened a brown leather belt around his waist. "Kris…I am so sorry for what you went through." His blue eyes filled with tears. "Believe me, if I had known…"
Krisalyn reached up and touched his lips with the tips of her fingers, silencing him. "I do not blame you, Peter. Not anymore. I was badly hurt by your abandonment – as it seemed to be at the time – but I understand, and I forgive you."
The Stone Table…fifteen minutes until the duel…
Caspian knew that he should be waiting by the entrance to the How for King Peter and King Edmund, but there were still a few minutes to go until the duel began, and he was still seeking answers. He had found himself wandering back down to the Stone Table after speaking with Queen Krisalyn and seeing Princess Aislynn and Queen Lucy off. Some of what the Steadfast Queen had told him made sense. In a way, he imagined that it was similar to what was expected of a true King or Queen – to serve in exchange for the loyalty of your people, and the right to call upon them in times of need.
Once again, he gazed up at the carved relief of Aslan. It is all about trust and loyalty, Queen Krisalyn said. Certainly Their Majesties are putting a lot of trust in Aslan, and in King Peter. If Miraz wins, they will surrender, and they will die. But they've accepted that, because they trust Aslan. How can I do any less?
Slowly, Caspian knelt down and placed his fisted hand over his heart as he lowered his gaze to the dirt floor in front of him. "Great Aslan, all my life I've wondered if you were real. I've wanted to believe, but I also wanted proof, because the stories did not match the reality of my life. Now, somehow, you've sent your Kings and Queens back to us, and they believe in you so strongly that they are willing to die. Perhaps that is the proof I've been seeking all these years." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I don't know if you can hear me, or if you really are there, but…I trust you. If your chosen four can risk their lives and their futures in your name, so can I."
A soft clapping caught his attention and he looked up, startled, his hand automatically going for his dagger. King Edmund was standing in the doorway. Caspian rose quickly to his feet, knowing that he should have been in his place. He stepped over, intending to apologize, but as he opened his mouth the King raised a hand.
"Do not apologize," Edmund said, anticipating what he was going to say. "I am pleased that you have finally put faith in Aslan. I know that was one of the things that was most troubling Peter."
"It has been difficult…trying to decide what I should do," Caspian admitted.
"You're not alone in that," Edmund told him. "I felt much the same at first…but that is another story for another time. I must go and dress, and you'll need to get to your place as well." Edmund turned, about to go, when Caspian remembered the cordial Lucy had given him.
"King Edmund, wait!" He fumbled the cordial off his belt as the younger boy turned. He offered the pouch with the bottle in it to the King. "Your sister bade me give this to you before she left."
"Lu's cordial? But why?" Edmund took the pouch and weighed it in his hand as he looked between it and Caspian.
"She was most concerned for the High King's life in the duel. Her exact words were, 'I'm ordering him' – by which she meant you – 'to use it on himself or Peter if either of them gets hurt. Tell him that if Peter refuses the cordial when he needs it, Edmund has orders to force the cordial down his throat if he has to'."
Edmund blinked in surprise as Caspian repeated Lucy's words verbatim, before a small smile broke out on his face. "Good old Lu," he said softly, before he shook his head. "She's so predictable." Edmund looked closely at Caspian. "I'll hold onto it in case it is needed during the battle, but I can't use it during the duel, even if Peter would accept a drop."
Caspian frowned. "Why?"
Edmund looked at him, surprised, before he remembered that Caspian probably knew nothing about the gifts that they had received from Father Christmas all those years ago. "Just like Susan's horn, Lucy's cordial is magical. One drop will heal any wound instantly." Edmund turned and began heading up the corridor, and Caspian hurried to catch up as Edmund continued, "This is a duel of honor, and it is to the death."
Caspian saw the King pause and swallow, pain and deep emotion flaring across his face and through his eyes.
"It would not be fair, nor honorable, for Peter to keep using the cordial to heal his wounds when Miraz has no magic of the same," Edmund finished, regaining control of his features.
"But this is for Narnia's survival," Caspian objected. "Surely, as the offended party, no one would question the High King's right to an advantage."
"It doesn't work that way, Caspian. Emotionally, I would agree with you, and with Lucy. I do not want to lose Peter. He is my best friend and my brother, as well as being my King."
Edmund paused again, and this time Caspian distinctly saw tears in the younger boy's eyes. He realized that, for all his poise and calm, the upcoming duel and the idea that King Peter might die was literally tearing Edmund apart. Caspian felt very uncomfortable with the fact that he was seeing this. Because he was an only child, he knew nothing about the bonds that could form between siblings.
Edmund dashed a hand across his face, wiping the tears away, before he took a deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was steady and his face calm. "Logically, however, I would agree with Peter. We are Knights as well as Kings, and Aslan expects his Knights and his Kings to act with fairness, honor, and chivalry. Peter – and I – can do no less. If Peter wins –" if he survives was the unspoken meaning behind the words, Caspian knew – "then he may accept a drop, especially if the Telmarines break the agreement and attack." Edmund tightened his grip on the small pouch. "I will hold onto this, however. Knowing Peter the way I do, I expect he'll need it."
They walked together in silence, until they reached the room given over to the ladies. Edmund needed to get his armor from Krisalyn, and Caspian had decided to wait with him, so that they younger boy would not have to wait for Peter alone, with only his fears for company. But as they approached, they heard Peter speaking from inside the room.
"Kris, I am so sorry for what you went through. Believe me, if I had known…"
Krisalyn's voice was soft, barely audible over the faint sound of metal clinking together. "I do not blame you, Peter. Not anymore. I was badly hurt by your abandonment – as it seemed to be at the time – but I understand, and I forgive you. You're here now, that is all that matters." She paused, and there was slightly louder metallic sounds coming from inside the room. "Every time I have helped you with your armor, you've come back to me. I expect you to come back from this fight too."
Peter didn't reply for a moment, but Caspian and Edmund didn't dare move, not wanting to be overheard. They didn't like eavesdropping on this very personal, private conversation, but it was too late.
When Peter finally spoke, his tone was firm. "I will come back to you, Krisalyn. I may not have been able to control what happened before, but this time I can. Miraz will not defeat me – he will not defeat Narnia." There was more rustling and clinking of armor before he spoke. "I love you, Krisalyn – that will never change."
"And I love you, Peter," she whispered. "All I ask is that you fight today for Narnia, for Aslan, and for us. I will be waiting with open arms for you when you return."
Silence from inside the room then didn't tell Caspian what was happening, but as the horns blew, he knew that was the signal that his uncle and his uncle's men were approaching. He glanced at Edmund, then cleared his throat loudly. "King Peter? Your opponent approaches."
Edmund shot a glare at him before pushing aside the curtain. "Peter?"
Peter and Krisalyn were standing near the table where Edmund's armor was laid out again. Peter was fully dressed, sans gauntlets, helm, and sword, and he was just stepping back as Edmund and Caspian entered. Krisalyn looked over at the two of them. "Edmund, come quickly and I will assist you," she said, turning away from Peter and reaching for Edmund's armor. Caspian stepped over to help her, seeing as how Peter was hampered by his own armor.
Edmund stepped over to her, grateful that he was still wearing the tunic and trousers from earlier when he'd had his armor on. There was less formality as Edmund hastened into the chainmail leggings, tall boots, and chain mail shirt than he imagined that there would have been between his brother and Krisalyn. As he adjusted the shirt and Caspian tied it closed, Krisalyn knelt down and strapped his greaves and sabatons on over his boots.
As Krisalyn rose to her feet, Caspian had already secured Edmund's chest plate and collar, and was reaching for the rerebraces that would protect Edmund's upper arms. As the Prince fastened those in place, Krisalyn secured the couter plates that protected his elbows to the vambraces before strapping the whole arrangement to his forearms and elbows. She quickly attached the couter plates to the rerebraces as well.
"It's a good thing we're in a hurry, or I would have to protest being treated like a doll," Edmund said mildly as he stood as still as he could to make their job easier. Although Caspian and Krisalyn were hurrying, they were not skimping on making sure that every piece of his armor was secure and tight enough to be effective.
Peter laughed, but quickly tried to smother it with his hand when Edmund glared at him. "S-sorry Ed, but you said it, not I," Peter wheezed through his half-strangled chuckles.
Edmund sighed in mock-frustration, glad that he was able to lighten the atmosphere a little, which had been the whole point of his comment. "It's a good thing I love you, Peter." He shook his head as Caspian reached for his helm, and instead indicated his swords. Unlike Peter, he preferred to fight with duel swords. His smaller stature and younger age at the time they had first been made Kings had made wielding a shield difficult, so Oreius had instead instructed him in the use of two swords first, and only taught him to use a shield once Edmund's strength and size had increased enough to make it a viable technique.
Peter shook his head, chuckling a few more times before he noticed Caspian was also attaching Lucy's cordial to Edmund's belt. "Lu's cordial? Ed, why –?"
"Our beloved sister left it for me to use on you, you stubborn prat," Edmund replied.
"Ed, you know I can't," Peter began, but Edmund interrupted him.
"I know, Peter, and I wouldn't try during the duel – but if you do get hurt, I will not let you go into a battle against the entire Telmarine army without taking some, even if I have to sit on you and force it down your throat in front of the entire army," Edmund said fiercely, a determined light in his brown eyes.
Peter had to smile at that. "Deal." His face went blank, just before he slowly and carefully – mindful of his armor – knelt down in front of Edmund, bowing his head. "I would have your blessing, my King."
Edmund physically jerked and let out an odd splutter that was halfway between a cry of protest and choking back the cry. For a moment, his brown eyes went wide with fear and horror, Caspian noticed, but then the Just King composed himself and nodded.
Edmund wanted to scream in protest at what his brother was asking for. He shouldn't have been surprised – he should have been expecting it, in fact. Along with the ritual of Krisalyn assisting Peter with his armor, there had been a second ritual just between he and Peter. Whenever one of them had to ride out to the possibility of battle – since they hadn't always been able to go together – it had become habit for the one who was staying to offer a blessing to the one who was leaving. It was their way of encouraging each other, and confirming that if the worst should happen, the one who was remaining behind would then hold the authority of both of them.
No, Peter! You are not going to do this to me! Edmund screamed silently. It might have been a ritual between them, but it was there for more than one reason, after all. By asking Edmund for his blessing, especially with both Caspian and Krisalyn witnessing, Peter was indicating that if he failed, Edmund would become Peter's heir, and all command decisions regarding the army and the battle would pass to him, unless Aslan indicated otherwise.
Krisalyn would recognize the significance of what Peter was asking for. He glanced at her quickly and saw the realization and fear in her eyes, but she made no outward sign. She saw him looking at her and nodded.
Peter, you had better come back after all of this! Edmund scolded his brother, wanting to tell him that but knowing that he couldn't, not in those words at least. But in the words of blessing…that was another matter entirely. And since no two blessings were alike, Edmund could put his own feelings into it freely.
Reaching out with trembling hands, Edmund placed them on top of Peter's blonde hair. "May Aslan walk with thee and protect thee this day as thou dost enter the conflict." He relied on the formality of the words, using the older, more formal style to get him through this, as well as to show the seriousness of what he was accepting from Peter by doing this. Peter had called him "my King", signifying that he accepted Edmund as having as much authority, more in fact, if he failed. "May thy strength and thy faith endure as the battle dost rage around thee."
There was a formal cadence to the words as Edmund spoke, and an ancient feel to the blessing, as if it had been passed down through many years and many Kings before the two who stood in front of him. Caspian was in awe as he listened, but he didn't fail to notice that Edmund's hands were trembling, and his face was impassive, as if that was the only way he could make it through this.
"May thy every action this day reflect the glory of the great Lion, who didst sing Narnia into being," Edmund continued, before Caspian saw him swallow hard. "And if this day should be thy last, may Aslan welcome thee into his Country, and keep thy spirit in peace from this day forth."
As Peter looked up, an expression of gratitude on his face, Caspian felt his eyes mist up. He blinked them clear in time to see Peter stand, only to be grabbed by the Just King and a gentle kiss placed on each of the High King's cheeks. At that, Caspian found that he couldn't stop the tears any longer. There was such pain and fear in Edmund's eyes, the impact was like a dagger to the heart. The love between the two brothers was stronger than anything Caspian could have imagined, built on a foundation of so many shared experiences that he doubted he would ever have as many as these two Kings. It was so deeply personal, and yet they had no difficulty showing it to others. Caspian couldn't help but form a silent prayer in his heart. Aslan, let this day end with these brothers together, whatever happens. Do not permit them to be separated by death. If one must go, take the other too, that they may be together in your Country.
A distant horn broke the silence that had fallen over them. Caspian dashed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand as Peter straightened.
The High King's face was set and resolute. "Miraz has arrived. Ed?"
"I'm with you, Pete," Edmund replied, his voice slightly thick.
"My lord, take back what is yours," Unnoticed, Krisalyn had moved over to a chest in the corner of the room and opened it. Now, she withdrew a silver shield emblazoned in scarlet with a rampant lion, and a sword in a red leather sheath. The hilt of the sword was wrapped in red leather, and the pommel was gold and carved into the shape of a lion's head. These she handed to Peter with due solemnity.
"Rhindon!" Peter said, relieved and surprised. "I wondered what had become of it."
"It has been in my keeping these long years," Krisalyn replied before she reached back into the trunk and withdrew a quiver that held red-fletched arrows and a beautiful bow. She closed the trunk and carefully locked it, before turning back to them.
Peter hefted his shield and slipped his arms through the leather straps on the back, then handed Rhindon to Edmund. "Come."
Edmund picked up Peter's helmet and gauntlets, before following his brother out of the room. Caspian allowed the Queen to precede him, and together they headed through the maze of tunnels towards the How's entrance.
Half of the Narnian army – the fastest and strongest of the lot, such as the Centaurs, Minotaurs, Leopards and Cheetahs – were waiting in the first room. They parted to allow their Kings, Queen, and chosen Prince to pass, cheering them on, before they closed ranks. Tumnus was waiting right beside the entrance with Queen Susan, and he was holding the reins of the chestnut horse that Larez had been riding when he'd been captured.
Susan easily noticed what her brothers were wearing, as well as the presence of Rhindon and the gleaming shield that Peter carried, so she showed no surprise when Krisalyn handed her the quiver. She only strapped it on with a soft word of thanks, before pulling out the bow and stringing it. She looked at her brothers, worry showing in her brown eyes, and to Caspian it appeared that she wanted to say something, but instead she only embraced them both before she headed up the ramp that led to the terrace where Trumpkin was waiting with the archers.
Peter turned, about to go up the ramp and onto the battlefield, when Krisalyn stopped him by placing her hand on his arm and tugging very lightly. He turned back to face her. "Kris?"
The Steadfast Queen hesitated, but then she leaned forward and pressed a soft, yet passionate kiss to her husband's lips. She caught him completely by surprise, given her hesitance for this level of affection and intimacy since her arrival. Before he could gather his wits enough to respond, she was pulling away.
Peter stared at her, bemused, as she whispered. "That blessing is from me, in hope that you'll return safely to me, my love."
"I will," Peter finally managed.
Krisalyn nodded and stepped back, but before Peter and Edmund could turn again, she suddenly went very pale and swooned, falling limply to the ground.
"Krisalyn!" Peter cried, dropping immediately to his knees to gather her into his arms. Edmund thrust Rhindon at Caspian and dropped as well. "Ed, the cordial!"
Edmund was already opening the pouch and removing the diamond flask, uncorking it as Peter spoke the command. He started to lean forward to administer a drop, but Krisalyn's hand came up and clamped around his wrist with surprising strength, given how pale she was. "No. I'm fine," she breathed, although her voice was faint, even in the silence, for the Narnians had all gone quiet when she had kissed Peter. "It will pass in a few minutes." She took several deep breaths. "You need to go, Peter."
"I'm not leaving you like this," the High King said stubbornly.
"You must. Miraz is waiting. If you don't show…"
"Peter, she's right," Edmund agreed. "If you delay much longer, Miraz will have grounds to declare the challenge void and attack."
Peter started to shake his head again, but Tumnus interrupted. "My King, go to the combat. I will stay with Her Majesty until she's recovered."
Peter hesitated, glancing back down at Krisalyn, who, although pale, seemed to be recovering fairly quickly. She was already trying to maneuver out of his lap and sit up so that she could lean against the wall. "All right. Kris, are you sure…?"
"Positive, my lord. Unfortunately, I am very used to this by now. It will pass in a few more minutes." She looked up at him. "Go Peter."
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