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Chapter 2, Part 2: Second to None

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Turning their thoughts towards sensible things, Edmund and Lucy sheepishly unloaded the bear-meat from their pockets, offering the food to their hosts with a stilted explanation. Nikabrik, looking at the child-monarchs with a more favorable eye for the edibles, moved to light a fire in a different part of the room to cook it with.

It was at this point that Trufflehunter, previously looking upon them with awe-filled adoration from afar, addressed the two. "I knew that you would come," the Badger breathed, certainty shining through the beast's eyes.

Lucy reached across the table, clasping a black paw. "You're a beast and you don't change. And you're a Badger, what's more, and you hold on…"

Trufflehunter's eyes widened at the queen's recital of his mantra.

Edmund, reading the reaction, laughed and said, "That has been a saying among the Badgers long before our time, Trufflehunter." Leaning over to regally kiss the Badger's head in recognition of the woodlander's faith, he added, "In fact, Lucy and I are pleased to see that you know of it – it gives us hope that the Old Ways have not all been forgotten."

"If they had," Caspian began, "couldn't you simply revive it?"

Lucy's eyes turned downcast, as she quietly observed, "We do not know how long Aslan means for us to be here this time…"

"But your Majesties reigned for years and years in the Golden Age, correct?" Cornelius sought to confirm.

"Fifteen spectacular years, Doctor," Edmund grinned wanly. "I was twenty-eight when we returned to our world… Lucy was twenty-six. How old were Peter and Susan, Lu?" the king asked his sister. The gazes of Caspian, Trufflehunter, and Cornelius traveled to the young girl.

"Susan was twenty-nine and Peter was thirty-one," the queen recalled perfectly. Her thoughts drifted further into the past, beyond their mere ages and began describing details. "The moles, led by their chief, Lilygloves, had dug holes for the apple orchard around the palace, and Pamona herself – greatest of all the wood-people – placed good spells upon it… Lilygloves had said that one day we would be glad of the fruit."

"And so we are," Edmund chuckled thinly, "for we would not have lived to arrive here without them."

Caspian, though a youth bordering upon manhood, stared at the siblings with shining eyes. Gently, he pleaded, "Oh please tell us more…"

With a soft smile, Lucy grasped the prince's hand, obliging him by saying, "Not long after that – and the repelling of Rabadash the Ridiculous's invasion of Archenland (which I promise to share another time), all four of us set out on the hunt for the White Stag. If caught, he would grant wishes to whoever it was. We were riding with the principal members of our court, our horns blowing and a pack of hounds running before our steeds. Finally, the chase had gone on so long that our courtiers' horses were exhausted, yet the four of us followed our quarry still. Soon, we were obliged to leave our horses behind to enter a thicket after the stag. There we found the lamppost."

Here the queen paused in her tale. Caspian was about to urge her to go one, for he knew that this must be the story of how they left Narnia, and he was simply itching to be the first to know what happened to them. But Edmund spoke first with his eyes gentle and sympathetic, saying, "It wasn't your fault, Lu."

Her face hard and set (though her eyes revealed guilt and determination), Queen Lucy rejoined, "Yes it was Edmund." Looking back at the prince, she continued, "We were staring at the lamppost, reminded eerily of something else – as though we had seen it before. In a dream, or a dream of a dream… I was convinced that if we went further in a certain direction there, we would find either adventure or a great change in our fortunes… For me, the curiosity was too great—"

"For us all – excepting Susan," Edmund interrupted. "And in no time at all we had all chosen to move into the thicket."

Lucy shook her head at her brother, determined to take the blame. Still, she spoke further. "One moment, we were brushing aside tree branches, and the next they were fur coats… and we all tumbled out of the wardrobe and into the spare room of the mansion. We had been full-grown men and women in Narnia, but upon returning to our world, we digressed back into the forms we had when we first left it. We became children again, even though we had already grown up once before…"

"And fought in tournaments, battles, and wars," Edmund added on wryly, "not to mention ruling an entire country."

"That must have been horrible!" Caspian sympathized.

Edmund chuckled harshly. "That's not even the worst part!" he said, his tone lamenting. "While in our other world, our skills that we learned here become numb there, our memories of Narnia become hazier – sometimes we even doubt that Narnia exists at all." Here, expressions of horror overcame the faces of his audience. "We probably would have shrugged off our memories of Narnia if we were all alone in this," he whispered softly. Then, King Edmund's face brightened and he reached over to squeeze Lucy's shoulder. "But we have each other – and we all remember. And besides, Lucy's faith in Aslan and Narnia has not wavered, just as our trust in her has not hesitated."

Enigmatically, Lucy whispered, "Your trust in me has not declined, Brother. You cannot speak for others on this point."

Confused, Caspian observed the two as they exchanged a look. Then, the king murmured, "He would've come after you if I hadn't." Lucy patted his hand where it rested on her shoulder.

Changing the topic, Cornelius gazed at Lucy, scholarly inquiring, "There is so much of your story that confuses me… Wardrobe? Spare room? Whatever do you mean by this…?"

"A doorway between two worlds, Doctor," Edmund said on his sister's behalf. "I'm sure Lucy would love to tell you the tale of our entry to Narnia – only, perhaps we could do so after we've eaten."

"How's the meat coming along, Nikabrik?" Trufflehunter called out to the other end of the room. The Black Dwarf waved back dismissively, grumbling that it was almost done.

Lucy sighed audibly enough that Caspian glanced at her in concern. Her eyes were still heavy with guilt, and there was nothing the prince wanted more than to make her eyes light back up with laughter. But before he could even think of what action might be deemed appropriate, Edmund had pulled his sister into a comforting embrace. She sighed again, this time out of contentment.

Against his will, Caspian felt something creep up within him… Jealousy, perhaps? (Of a brother who comforts his sister? Ridiculous.) Maybe envy, then? Caspian couldn't tell. He had never felt like this before – nor would he ever again, if he had his way; there was too much uncertainty accompanied with these emotions… But was it so wrong to want to hold a distressed young woman? To offer her solace and good cheer?

Caspian just felt so unsure… of himself, of his feelings, of his status now that this ancient king and queen had arrived at his door. How could he ever amount to anything in comparison to them? Even without the High King present, the prince felt daunted and drained.

But all would be well soon, he knew. He could see it in the young queen's eyes and face… in every look she gave him and every word she spoke. It comforted him, even as it confused him.