Hey, so sorry for the wait. Life got in the way of pleasure. I want to give a shout-out to an amazing reader who has made me wake up and realize how much I appreciate you guys. Thanks to loveistotheworld1995. I met my deadline! Though, I do feel guilty for the wait. I know I should have picked this up a lot sooner. This chapter is my longest yet and I really hope you like it. I'm setting up for the big battle scene! Please review. I worked all day on this.

I have also posted a few one-shots recently that need some love. Please go check those out. One is a sequel to my other piece "What He Didn't Deserve" and the other is my debut into the Death Note writing frenzy. :-)

Disclaimer: The Chronilcles of Narnia is the property of C.S. Lewis. I am a only a desperate writer who can't follow up on her commitments.

Negotiations

Chapter Seven

Sweat glistened on the tyrant's forehead and he ran the back of his hand across it quickly. Stumbling around awkwardly in the dark room, Miraz eventually managed to locate his helmet. He tucked it under his arm and exited the tent quickly.

It was early morning, the sun just beginning to appear and the Telmarines were already abuzz with preparations for the battle to come. Men hopped around enthusiastically, swords drawn, shoving each other excitedly and swinging their weapons above their heads like school boys playing in a courtyard. Suited in heavy armor, many were laughing and stuffing food down their throats as if it would be their last meal. But frankly, when dealing with Narnians, one could never know.

Miraz made his way through his soldiers haughtily, glaring relentlessly at those who dared to stand in his way. The Narnians were clever. Normally, he would've simply ignored the letter. On any other day before his days as king, the yellowed piece of parchment would have been cast aside, burned to never be seen or read again. However, the letter had been delivered in full view of his men. Miraz's reaction didn't help much either. As royalty, he is expected to uphold the silly diplomacies and formalities that separate a king from a common man. He knew that he couldn't kill the miserable young prisoner, not yet. Once the Narnians have been exterminated, the prisoner would not live long; Miraz would ensure that.

The boy was awake by the time Miraz had approached. Dangling pitifully by hid arms, Edmund refused to acknowledge the dark-haired ruler. Focusing all of his attention on a half-dead tree in the distance, Edmund waited for the tyrant to speak.

"Good morning, dear boy. I trust you slept well," Miraz said with mock pleasantries.

Edmund almost laughed. In fact, he felt oddly refreshed given his position. Instead, the Just king turned his head gingerly to face Miraz, following the man's every step with his dark-brown eyes.

"Of course."

"Good." Miraz replied curtly, his voice wavering in his effort to remain relaxed. "I have come to inform you that you won't be staying in my care for too much longer. As soon as you family is removed from the picture, I will return to finish what I had started. I advise you to savor what time you have left."

Fishing around in the bulky metal plates and pile of fine material that adorned his body, Miraz managed to produce two thin, black pieces of cloth.

Edmund was confused. What could he need those for?

"I do apologize, King Edmund. I won't be taking any chances today."

With that stated, Miraz's hands snaked around the boy's head and, though there wasn't much he could do about it, Edmund fought against the man fervently. As hard as Edmund had tried to stop him, Miraz had succeeded in fastening the wretchedly itchy fabric in between the boy's teeth and around to the nape of his neck, twisting his lips into a rather wicked smile of sorts and affectively silencing any further conversations.

Miraz laughed at Edmund's frustration and then proceeded to blind the helpless monarch with the second rag. Grunting in satisfaction, the tyrant roughly patted his prisoner's exposed and shredded back before departing to gather his soldiers.

Edmund's body shuddered in response as his wounds cracked open and clear liquid spilled out. He hadn't really noticed the pain until now, but it was there now. Giving a silent prayer to the great lion, wishing for his family's safety, Edmund turned his thoughts away from the world and into happier memories, adamant that he would survive.

The remaining Pevensies and Caspian were conversing nervously in the caverns about their strategy for attack.

"Lucy can't go by herself!" Peter shouted at Caspian, enraged at the very thought of his baby sister in the woods alone.

"Peter, stop it. I can take care of myself! After all, I am a queen." Lucy countered before Caspian had a chance.

"But you're only a child. I would feel much better if you were accompanied on this journey. Susan, you have to agree with me, right?"

Susan looked slightly surprised that he had asked her and her voice reflected none of her fears or anxiety when she spoke. "You and I both know that it's our only choice. I don't like the idea anymore than you, but we need everyone able to fight here, including myself."

Peter was angry. He didn't like to lose. But a small voice spoke up, hesitantly and his face fell.

"What about Ed?" Lucy asked carefully. "Who will rescue him?"

The room was silent. They knew the risk of what they were doing today and this battle was very delicate.

"I will go. My technique in battle is too similar to that of our enemy. Let me find King Edmund." Caspian knew that his skills were considerably better than most of Miraz's soldiers, but the missing Pevensie needed to be saved. He also felt somewhat guilty that it was his uncle that was holding the King prisoner.

Peter pursed his lips in thought and Susan offered an encouraging smile. The youngest beamed at him and motioned for him to continue.

Bobbing his head stupidly, Caspian resumed his reasoning. "I will take my horse and rescue your brother. I won't return until I have assured myself that he is well. Please, King Peter, trust me with this duty. Allow me to mend the faith you have in me as a fellow monarch, as a man, and as a friend."

Peter looked skeptic, but nodded his approval. "Alright, Caspian, bring our brother home," the blonde king instructed.

Immediately, Caspian turned on his heels and left to collect his supplies for the trip.

The horse he was riding, though it was as silent as the stars, seemed to sense Caspian's ambitions and ran as fast as it could. Weaving in and out of the trees, the two flew through the forest like birds in the open sky. Branches seemed to clear from their path as they rode, but Caspian chose not to think much of it.

Heat beat down on the long-haired teen, but the fresh air that rushed past him kept him cool and made the warmth of summer all but disappear.

Caspian closed in on the Telmarine camp and dismounted his steed. Securing the beast to a sturdy bough just outside the encampment, Caspian entered the enemy camp.

The army had already departed and the area was desolate and silent. The tents remained erect, Miraz's confidence in his victory convincing him that they'd be returning. Caspian had no idea how many soldiers were lurking in and near the camp, but he knew that they'd need to be taken down before he could do anything else. He began creeping among the numerous tents, holding his bow at the ready.

A soft whistling broke the silence and Caspian tensed. A soldier was close which meant that the boy he had been left to guard couldn't be far. Footsteps rounded the corner and a fairly large man waddled steadily from one leg to the other. Caspian moved quickly. He pulled the string on his bow back to his ear and, before the guard realized what was about to happen, rolled forward and release the arrow into the man's chest and a stream of crimson leaked from the wound, staining the dirt red. Caspian didn't look back, but instead, he continued sneaking about as quickly and soundlessly as he could.

Eventually, he managed to find the center of the camp. His eyes scanned the area from where he hid in the brush. Three soldiers lounged on a large wooden platform. One lay on his back, propping his head up with his hands while another sat awkwardly with his legs crossed next to the first. The third reclined lazily against one of the wooden poles.

Then, Caspian spotted Edmund. The prince was utterly outraged at the position the monarch had been left in. Suspended from his wrists in the center of his uncle's, Edmund remained, blindfolded and gagged. Still too far away though, Caspian could not properly distinguish any wounds.

Stringing another arrow, Caspian leveled his hands and let it go directly into the heart of the standing soldier. Gasping in shock, the man fell to the ground. Startled, the other two stood and drew their swords.

Dashing out of view, Caspian relocated to a new location and embedded another arrow into a second guard. While the third, and final, man staggered and stuttered in fear, Caspian circled ominously and took down the guard easily.

Glancing at the surrounding area once more, just to be safe, Caspian emerged from his hiding spot to help the young prisoner.

The dark haired prince padded quickly to Edmund, his breath catching in his throat when he was able to examine the extent of the boy's injuries. Caspian was livid, to say the least. Welts and blood traced King Edmund's shredded, bare back, burned skin oozed on his lower torso, and bruises marred his freckled skin. His broken ribs looked particularly bad, though. The skin was pushed out because of the bones and dark purples and yellows surrounded Edmund's chest.

Approaching the exhausted form with measured and weighted footfalls, Caspian called to the battered king. "King Edmund?"

Edmund tensed at his name, it sounded wicked when tarnished by that terrible Telmarine accent. But this voice was not harsh or cruel, but soft and sympathetic. He figured it must be Caspian, for he had heard his guards fall and knew that this Telmarine was friend.

"Prince Caspian?" Edmund attempted to say, only to have his words come out in a muffled jumble.

"Here, let me get those off for you."

Digging in his pack, Caspian found his knife and gently removed Edmund's blindfold, tossing it to the ground.

Defeat shone in the wide eyes that he had uncovered, but something else, too. A fighting spirit flared within the king; a defiance and strength of mind to never give in to his oppressors. Caspian couldn't help but admire him for that. Edmund refused to relinquish hope for survival to Caspian's uncle.

Slipping the blade under the gag, Caspian removed it softly from the beaten monarch's face.

"Thank you."

Caspian smiled at Edmund and replied, "If you will give me a moment, I will look for something to break these chains. Miraz probably took whatever keys were used to lock these with him."

"Try the stables," Edmund suggested in a raucous tone.

Bounding from the platform, the prince disappeared into the stables, only to walk back out with a large pair of shears. Caspian positioned the blade, quietly apologized for the pain he knew was about to induce, and snapped the chain link. Edmund crumbled to the ground, groaning in pain. The shears were then used to break the two manacles apart, releasing his wrists from the each other. However, without a key, the cuffs would have to stay put on the Just king's arms.

"I couldn't properly treat your wounds with you hanging in the air like that, could I?" Caspian attempted a chuckle. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yes, I believe so." Edmund replies. He slowly began sitting up and stretching his misused muscles. Caspian peeled his bag off of his shoulder and dumped it onto the platform. A pile of salves, bandages, and a few canteens of herbal water he had swiped from the medical supplies in the cave were revealed.

"King Edmund, you need to sit up straight for me to bandage your broken ribs in place."

"You know," Edmund said. "You can just call me Edmund."

Caspian said nothing but began splashing the water from the canteens onto the boy's back and dabbing at it with a soft cloth, emitting a sharp hiss from Edmund.

"W-where's Peter?" Edmund asked hesitantly.

"He sent me here to take care of you while he and your family keep Miraz occupied."

A frown spread across Edmund's face. "I should be there. Why am I such a burden on them?" Squeezing his eyes shut, the tree came to mind; the same half-alive tree that had captivated his interest earlier. He would be strong and not let the wind blow him down either. He would rush back and make sure that everyone understood that he wasn't just some harebrained little boy who needed to be looked after.

"You're not. They depend on you; they're fighting for you right now just as much as they're fighting for your country."

"Our country," Edmund corrected firmly.

The prince felt pride well up in his heart at Edmund's comment. He was absolutely thrilled that the Just king considered him a friend and a subject of his monarchy. Shifting around to face the boy, he wiped the puss from the gruesome burn mark of his uncle's initial. Caspian cringed at the sight and hurriedly covered it with a bandage. He didn't want to think of that vile man as his uncle.

With his wounds clean and dressed, Edmund began to stand up only to be halted suddenly by two firm hands on his shoulders. He glowered at Caspian for keeping him here any longer. Edmund wanted to return to the cave to help his family.

The thickly accented teenager frowned at the look he was receiving and said, in an authorities tone that reminded Edmund of his brother, "You and I both know that you are in no condition to fight. We will remain here until the battle has been settled and then decide what to do when the time comes and the victor emerges."

"I'm not just going to sit here whilst everyone else is out risking their lives for our country. I'm fine."

"No."

"You can't keep me here."

"Maybe not on normal circumstances, Edmund, but look at yourself. You've been weakened by your time here and are no match for me. I made a promise to your brother that I would not bring you back until you were fit."

"I never listen to Peter. What's more, I usually try my best to do precisely what he doesn't want me to do."

"Well, perhaps you should start. Your brother is a smart man. We are staying here until I say it's safe."

Edmund couldn't stand it. He would prove to Caspian that he was all right. Snatching the sword from its sheath on the prince's belt, Edmund spun around and placed the edge of the blade to Caspian's exposed neck. While he did not come off in doing this painlessly, Edmund's skills were still as incisive as ever.

Searching for the words to say, Caspian settled on silence.

"I'm not convinced that you understand who tops who, Prince Caspian." Edmund growled, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.

Caspian sighed and agreed that his word was no longer the word to follow. He knew the argument was over the moment he saw Edmund seize his sword. The Just king handed the sword back to Caspian and shoved the medical supplies back into the bag.

"No, Edmund, you take the sword. I can handle myself with a bow." Caspian removed the sheath from his belt and pushed it into the boy's hands. "I don't have any extra clothes. To be honest, I never anticipated your wounds to be so extensive. I can't do anything for your wrists until we get the shackles off either. We can banda-"

"Stop talking or we'll miss the action. Let's go."

Caspian and Edmund left the platform and sought out Caspian's horse. Climbing on quickly, the duo sped off to battle.

Not too far away, Narnians cheered and shouted from the exterior of the cave and Telmarines jeered unpleasantly at the opposing army. Two kings stood in the middle of it all; helmets on and blades drawn. Peter and Miraz glared at one another, daring each other to move.

With a cry, Peter lunged forward and the two blades clashed. The war has begun.