The High King's Queen

by A. Lily Potter

Being the High King means to be ready to sacrifice oneself if need be. It means having countless responsibilities. Peter Pevensie never wanted another one until Aslan decrees for him to marry. At polar odds with Isabela, Peter faces the greatest of all dilemmas. Can he prove his loyalty to Aslan, his family, Narnia and most of all Isabela? Peter/OC

40. The Stricken Melody

Disclaimer: And so, I write, for the last time in this book, that the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis. I'm merely borrowing some of his characters for this series.

[][][][][][[][[][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Helen Pevensie shrugged off her mustard-colored coat, well fitted and warm, pulling the woolen gloves off her slender hands. She hung it on the steel hook, careful not to tear it in the process. Rubbing her hands together she made her way down the hall, pausing by the mirror hanging solitary with a wooden table beneath it set with a palette of colorful tulips, arranged by her eldest daughter Susan…

Helen smiled fondly, touching them briefly. Her eyes fell on the pale white envelope lying beside it. Her heart beat quickening she took it, hastily slicing open the blue seal. The paper fell out, fluttering to the ground as Helen dived to catch it, her auburn curls flouncing.

She straightened it, running her hands over it several times before her eyes scanned it, taking in each and every detail. A wide smile appeared on her face as she saw the crooked, untidy writing of her husband.

My dear, sweet Helen,

I do hope that you are Helen. And not Edmund, Peter, Susan or Lucy…. But if you are I send you my hugs and utter love.

I write to you in the hope that you are well and that the children are in good health and spirits. I am afraid I could not make it for Lucy's birthday. Please tell her that I apologize heartedly and wish her unlimited happiness in life. She deserves so much….

The war still continues and I can scarcely write it on paper. The horrors of war are something that needs great bravery to be seen let alone described. Besides it is best that I do not trouble you with my exaggerated pains. I believe the war will end soon and the real fighting will begin afterwards when all of us pick up the shattered pieces of our lives. I fear that day…. It is ironic you must think that I, who has served in the army for five years now should fear normal life. The truth is that when you live a life of bloodshed and bullets and cannons and death and screams you become so used to it that you begin to fear real life…. Do not mistake it for the fact that I am a mental retard. I am affronted if you think so!

I do hope that you are well and not hiding anything from me. Sometimes I feel the vagueness in your letters, your aloofness….. Is something bothering you? You do know that I am always there for you….even if I am a thousand miles away.

I am also worried about the kids. The day before yesterday I received both Peter's and Susan's letters and the younger ones's reached me just yesterday. I was surprised to see Edmund's letter. He usually doesn't write…. He thinks that I left on purpose. But yesterday his letters contained….. I am embarrassed to say it…. Such words of wisdom that I myself could not fathom. I felt as if our roles were reversed… His and mine… Or rather Peter's and mine. Peter had grown so much since I last saw him. I can feel it in his words. He acts like… well like a king with such fine regal air. His letters are to the point, written with great diplomacy but still affectionate…. Susan's letters are loving and deep and sophisticated. She seems like a mother… And Lucy…. Little Lucy… No longer little… She seems like an adorable matron….. Don't be scandalised! I am laughing as I write this you know? Sometimes I think that the war has made our children grown ups. They seem like a family in their own right. I feel left out, ignored. You still are very near to them and so you may not feel so….. Peter is like a father, Susan a mother, Edmund an elder brother and Lucy an elder sister. You and I are…. well…..

I must have left you in deep thought. You must have that brooding grim expression on your face. Smile Helen! Smile… You look like Helen of Troy when you do so… Sometimes I think that is how your late father named you…. And stop blushing….. I do miss you…. More than you can realize.

Love,

Jeremy

Helen frowned as she folded up the letter, her cheeks indeed radiating heat like Jeremy had said. It seemed as if Jeremy had poured her heart onto paper. They were her own worries. Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy….. Grown ups in the form of children.

They did not deserve this. She wanted them to be as carefree as the other children. Just yesterday, as she had been late in coming home, Peter and Edmund had went out to cut a tree for Christmas and by the time she had returned it was stationed there in the middle of the dining room, tall and stately, its green fir gracefully curling around. The smell of home made cookies rose around and upon opening the fridge she had seen perhaps a two dozen cookies baked for tomorrow. Then this morning they had assisted her in decorating it. They were not aloof or cold or icy or blank. They were still her warm, friendly children. But it was she who felt left out. They discussed different topics amongst themselves and supported each other.

Edmund…. Edmund was perhaps the greatest mystery. Previously he had been pure miserable, rude and downright unkind. He had teased Lucy to tears, he still teased her but not in that harsh way. He was more of a gentleman, kind and sober and mischievous. He had been completely changed from his previous form and now assisted Helen in all the household chores…. Despite what his friends said…

Peter. Peter had always been the leader amongst them but now they looked up to him as more than just a leader but as a… king…. As Jeremy had said. Susan always asked him as to whether she should reply to the letters sent by their father, their uncles and aunts or any of their family. Lucy always looked to him for support, sleeping next to him when she was afraid. And Edmund would always support him, taking his back. His eyes were not of a child, they were still the pure blue that made girls swoon but they were more elderly, intelligent and grave. And he seldom spoke much. It was as if he had lost a loved one…

Susan. Lady Susan… The compassionate, caring, strict one. She presided over the table when Helen was absent. She was the silent mother, the shadow carrying a blade of unbreakable metal that would defend her loved ones. She woke Peter, Edmund and Lucy up on holidays, set the table for them, called them to breakfast, and assisted in making the eggs, toast and orange juice. She who remembered that Lucy loved sweet butter on her toast, that Edmund adored a bar of chocolate, though she always complained how it made him extra hyper, and that Peter wanted sour cream with French toast. Things she herself had forgotten in the years they had been apart. She struggled to remember but there was no need. Susan saw to it that they were remembered.

Lucy's beautiful smile came to her mind. Lucy; sweet, innocent, gullible, adorable little doll she was. But a doll of strength, bravery and courage. Helen was stunned by the wisdom in her youngest daughter's innocent, doe-like eyes. It was odd, even frightening to see the sophistication that a girl her age should not possess. Lucy was a carefree soul who loved and was loved. Yet she bore herself with a dignity, that rivaled that of Susan's, whose grace and elegance was slightly more regal and refined. She was terribly close to her siblings now. She had always been so. But the difference was that before she had gone to the Professor's house she had always comforted herself in Helen's warm arms, ached for Helen's embrace, dried her tears on her mother's dress. Now she ran into Peter's arms, ached for Susan's embrace and dried her tears on Edmund's cloak. And they let her, comforting her by softly murmured words, by running their hands through her fiery ringlets, by hugging her fiercely a protective glow in the eyes, by soothing back her brow or by surrounding her like a shield.

The relationship between them had dramatically changed. The small, cozy house had been rocked by quarrel after quarrel. Susan bickering with Peter, the elder always replying back hotly, Lucy sobbing up the house as Edmund tugged at her curls, Edmund shouting at his siblings, she herself scolding her children heartily and her own harmless clashes with Jeremy. Now the house sat as quietly and silently as an old maid, a dull matron who sometimes, but not often, burst forth with severe fighting.

Of course Susan would not sit by silently if Edmund replaced her shampoo with honey and cream.

But it was not the same. Sighing Helen made her way to her bedroom upstairs. She trudged up, as subtle as a mouse, but not silent enough apparently. The door to Edmund's room opened and he strode out, smiling as he embraced his mother, kissing her cheek. Helen stared up at his pale, freckled face in amazement.

'Admiring my striking good looks, Mum?' He teased playfully.

'Oh don't be so arrogant, Ed.' Susan huffed, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail that swayed behind her, as she shoved him aside to briefly hug her mother in welcome. 'Honestly, you need to-'

'I know, I know.' Edmund interrupted scowling. 'I need to lower my self absorbed, naughty and misbehaving self's complacency, conceit and sky high pride, right?'

'Oh Ed, Susan's long list of difficult, un-simple and highly un-understandable words was enough for us all to last an era. Not you too.' Peter said sardonically, his blond hair tousled wildly as he kneeled low to hug his much shorter mother.

Susan turned on his, a furious, venom filled glare on her face and her tongue ready to crack like a whiplash. Only the timely arrival of his sweet juvenile sister saved Peter from the terror of his elder sister's long, long lectures.

'Mama!' She exclaimed. Helen tenderly gathered her in her arms, pushing back her rowdy curls. 'You're back!'

'Indeed I am, sweeting.' Helen buried her face in Lucy's eternally warm locks, fingering them as if they were a long lost treasure. 'Why are you up so early?'

'It's eight in the morning, mama! You call that early?!' Lucy asked, jumping around eagerly. She bounced over to Peter's side, taking his long-fingered, graceful hand in her own. 'We were just going to go buy the groceries for tomorrow.'

'Groceries?' Helen repeated the word as if it was a foreign, alien one. 'But why?'

'It's Christmas Eve.' Susan put in, her tone patient. 'The stores will be closed tomorrow.'

'All of you are going?' Helen cast a stern glance at them. 'Why all four?'

'To protect each other. Haven't you heard, mum, there's safety in numbers.' Winking Edmund proceeded out of the hallway, his navy blue scarf wrapped around his neck in layers and loops. He looked like a cuddly bear moving through the hall, grumbling under his breath about how his elder sister had eyes sharper than a hawk's. Laughing Peter scooped up Lucy and followed him out leaving Helen to stare after them, feeling immensely desolate and lonely.

[][][][][][[][[][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

"No sign of them, my lady."

Isabela glanced up, her bright eyes clouded and surrounded by deep purple shadows.

"I thought not." She said softly. Mr. Tumnus looked up at her, his eyes red-rimmed. "The prophecy came true after all."

"My lady?"

With tremendous effort, Isabela smiled slightly. "Nothing, dear sir. Only the mumbling of a confused person."

"My queen, I'm so sorry." Mr. Tumnus sobbed, holding up a bright red handkerchief and blowing noisily into it. "I looked in every inch of the Western Wood but I found no sign of them."

"That's because their journey is over. Their duty has been fulfilled," Isabela looked up, determination glinting in her eyes. "And now it is time to fulfill mine."

"My lady?"

"Mr. Tumnus," Isabela got up and walked up to him, tall and slender. "Narnia is soon going to face a serious threat."

"What threat?" Mr. Tumnus asked confused. "I-"

"An enemy." Isabela answered. "A deadly enemy. Aslan warned me of this beforehand. With the High King and his siblings gone, it is up to us to defend Cair Paravel."

"But, my lady. How-" Mr. Tumnus began bleakly. "How can we?"

"What do you mean how?" Isabela stopped pacing and looked at him. "We have the finest warriors, the best weapons. We have faith and loyalty and love and these qualities are more important than anything else."

Mr. Tumnus hesitated.

"Do you doubt me?" She asked. No. He wanted to say. I doubt myself.

Taking a deep breath, he said. "You are our High Queen, my lady. None of us will abandon you. I trust you and I will stay with you until the very end."

Isabela's set shoulders relaxed visibly.

"Thank you, Mr. Tumnus." She said softly, nodding her head."Organize a meeting in the Hall. I want everyone to be present there. Now, Narnia's at war."

He nodded, bowing low and scurried out of the room, turning back at the doorway to look at Isablea.

She stood by the window sill, crowned in the moonlight. Her face was pale but underneath the strain he saw the fierceness and fighting spirit. And at that moment, he felt as if he was watching, not a young girl but Aslan's greatest warrior get ready for war. The admiration he had felt for the other kings and queens was nothing compared to that which he felt for Narnia's one and only High Queen.

[][][][][][[][[][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Every pair of eyes, old and young, bright and dull, present in the Great Hall of Cair Paravel, darted between the empty thrones that crowned the hall. Fear and suspicion hung in the air and despite their calm demeanor, the Narnians stood quietly.

Their gazes were dragged away from the thrones as the High Queen entered, followed by the mighty Orieus and a slender Mr. Tumnus. The silence grew so severe that even a falling droplet of water could be heard.

Isabela's long hair was pulled back smoothly leaving her face, pale and haggard, clearly visible. On her head rested the glinting crown on Queen Helen which marked her as the monarch. She walked gracefully between the aisles until she reached the thrones, her back straight, her face wiped of all emotion.

Once there she turned, her flowing gown rippling and stared ahead, her bright green eyes glittering like a dragon's.

She raised her hands and as if hypnotized everyone stared straight at her, entranced and unable to look away.

"I have gathered you tonight," She began in a clear voice that carried to the end of the hall. "to inform you of Narnia's precarious position. There is no need to panic." She added as the Narnians looked at each other uneasily. "I will not lie to you. What I tell you is the truth and if you want to hear it then do."

She paused. "The High King and his siblings are gone."

Immediately there was an immediate uproar and agonized cries, denials and shouts rang everywhere.

"Where?" A badger asked squeakily. "Why?"

"How did this happen?" One of the ash gray centaurs demanded.

Calmly, Isabela held up her hands for silence. "It was time for them to return to their own world. They were not meant to stay here indefinitely. What matters now is that they are gone and Narnia is in great danger."

No cries now. No one spoke. No one even moved.

"You are all aware that recently the High King waged a battle against giants in the North. It was widely speculated that these giants were accompanied by magicians, sorcerers who wielded magic as their weapon. That is true." She continued in the stunned silence. "And now they are going to attack us when we are most vulnerable. They are, as we speak, gathering an army of many creatures around Narnia's borders. General Orieus," She nodded to him. "carried out a search of the area and our suspicions were proven correct. They now seek to destroy Cair Paravel."

"But what is their aim?" One of the furry creatures asked.

"I do not know. Many of them are against the High King and his siblings. Many of them previously supported Jadis, the White Witch and now seek revenge. Others are simply fighting because they hate Aslan and they hate us."

She swung around to face them. "And now, I ask you for a favor. Narnia is doomed unless everyone within its borders unites together. I know that you are all bewildered and not trusting of each other and maybe even of me. But now," Her eyes wandered over the hall. "Now, I ask you to put aside these differences. Our leaders are gone and we are-"

"Our leaders are not gone." One of the badgers said indignantly, swishing its tail for a dramatic effect. "One of our leaders still remains. And that is you, my lady. No matter what our differences are, I believe that all of us support you because you were chosen by Aslan himself. And Aslan's High Queen is our High Queen."

"Uh…Well, thank you, Badger." Isabela said quietly. "Thank you for those words of support. And thank you for your willingness to support me."

The badger nodded and settled comfortably back into his position as Isabela continued: "As I was saying, the enemy will attack soon. And it is best if we are well-prepared." She then added: "I cannot expect all of you to remain behind. Those who wish to do so by their own free will are more than welcome. Those who want to escape can do so. No grudge shall be held against you, provided you do not take up arms against us. Should Narnia win, you will be welcomed back with open arms."

Everyone looked at her expectantly and she spoke up. "Well….. those of you who want to leave can step away towards the end of the hall."

No one moved. Everyone remained where they were.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Isabela murmured to Orieus who smiled slightly and said:

"My lady I think it means that all of them will support you."

Isabela cleared her throat and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I…well….. Thank you. But the children must be evacuated at once. The dryads and naiads of the Western Woods will gladly give them shelter and they will be perfectly safe there."

Still everyone remained stationary. Slowly from the back some of the older female centaurs began herding the young foals out of the Hall. All of the beaver and badger children left but many of the centaurs and fauns, despite their young age remained, making it necessary for Isabela to descend and firmly force them out of the Hall.

Once the under-age had been had been shepherded off, Orieus boomed out instructions for the creatures to assemble themselves in the open grounds according to their species and the Narnians shuffled off obediently. Isabela sent the Griffins with messages to the rest of Narnia.

"My lady, I doubt that we will be able to reach in time." One of the Griffins said quietly, his voice ruminating.

"You must." Isabela said firmly, her voice slightly harsh. "We have no other choice. We have to have more soldiers if we are to defend ourselves."

"We will make hast-"

"You will go no where."

Isabela looked up, her heart hammering. The voice was low and musical but it's tones were slithery as that of a serpent. Instantaneously everyone was silenced as if caught by a charm. "I know that you are preparing to fight. I know that you mean to go to war. But I warm you: you cannot win."

The shadows in the corners of the Hall molded together and billowed into a spare form clad in deep ebony robes.

"That's the enemy from the North!" Orieus hissed under his breath though his face remained emotionless.

The man chuckled and Isabela glared at him, repulsed and disgusted. "I am indeed the enemy from the North." He said smoothly, inclining his head. "I am Vladimar, my lady Isabela."

Behind him came another figure with glittering hair spun from wine red threads and a pale, sharp face. Heidi.

Isabela felt as if she had dropped from the top of a maple tree. In her mind, she glimpsed Peter and Heidi entwined together and suddenly she knew why Alexander had wanted to get close to her.

"You diid it purposely." She said, her words boiling with compressed rage. "You sneak, you vile traitor, you-"

"My daughter. While this is very entertaining," Vladimar interrupted. "I have a proposal for you, my lady."

"My queen." Isabela said, her voice venomous. He looked startled: "I beg pardon?"

Isabela descended the steps until she faced him squarely. "I said," Her voice was deadly quiet. "I am not your lady, I am your queen. And you will address me as so."

A snarl appeared on his face, slashing through his features and contorting his expression. "You still have arrogance?"

"No. I still have my title. I have my crown and my kingdom and they shall remain with me." Isabela said coolly. "That is not arrogance. That is knowing your duty."

Vladimar hissed swiftly. "You will regret it."

"Why have you come?" She asked, throwing back her long mane of black hair.

"Why do you think?"

"Well haven't you come to sing impromptu sing-alongs?" Isabela suggested, her voice falsely demure. Behind her Orieus chuckled, his usually grim expression lightening though Mr. Tumnus went pale, his face alarmed.

Vladimar's face grew enraged. "You fool." He said in a slow voice. "You think this attitude will give you mercy?"

"I wasn't looking for your mercy." Isabela told him. "Even if Narnia has fallen, I will not ask you for mercy. Because you will not show it to me."

"You are right." He leaned back and studied her appraisingly. "I will burn all of this wretched country. I will fill the rivers with narnian blood."

"Pleasant day dreams." Isabela put in mildly. "May I ask why you want them to become real?"

A sickening smile appeared on Vladimar's face. "Why, revenge, of course."

Isabela did not speak and in the silence Heidi suddenly spoke up.

"Why do you care for these people? They are not yours. This country isn't yours. Narnia shouldn't mean anything to you. I know that you are their High Queen but only through marriage and that claim isn't strong at all."

"If you agree to hand over power to me," Vladimar said, his voice slithery. "I will ensure your safety. You can even rule some parts of Narnia, under my authority. If you lose however you will be killed. Something is better than nothing. If you hand over Narnia to us, I promise you I will deal with you fairly."

There was silence and the few present Narnians turned their eyes to Isabela.

Vladimar extended his hand to Isabela and the other to Heidi, saying softly. "Together we can rule all of Narnia. My two queens and I."

Isabela spat at him. "No."

Vladimar stared at her. "I beg pardon?"

"No." Isabela repeated more strongly. "You can go to hell."

Vladimar's face contorted and his features appeared startlingly bestial. Eyes livid, he glared at her, narrowing his eyes to slits so that he appeared almost snake-like. He snarled out: "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Isabela told him, facing him squarely and without fear. "I mean that I will defend Narnia with my blood. You are wrong when you say that this country isn't mine. Every river of this country is like my vein. Every plain is a part of my skin. It's cracks, its faults, I know like my palm lines. You say Narnia does not belong to me? That's because I belong to Narnia!"

She was struggling to breathe by the end of the little speech and she looked daringly at Vladimar, her expression haughty and contemptuous.

But all he said was: "You are a fool."

[][][][][][[][[][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Isabela winced as a particularly strong blow fell on her shoulder from the head of a huge ram.

"You will not win." It grunted, lowering it's head and getting ready for another shot but with one swipe of her blade, Isabela sent it sprawling into the mud where already many bloodied bodies.

"Not yet." She panted and turned around to parry another blow as more and more of Vladimar's soldiers entered through the gates of Cair Paravel.

Swift, precise and deadly, each blow of hers was meant to kill. There was no other option. It was kill or be killed.

From the corner of her eye she saw the beavers racing over each other as they swiped the creatures in the face with their heavy tails.

"Have you noticed," Mr. Beaver shouted to his wife. "That on top of everything else, it's raining."

"No luck today at all." Mrs. Beaver said glumly and drew back her hand to punch one of the enemy animals. She shirked out at him: "Die! Die, silly, nasty little fiend!"

Despite the grimness of the situation, Isabela felt a smile come to her face. But that smile rapidly vanished as with a deafening roar one of the bulls slammed straight into Cair Paravel's lofty pillars sending them crashing to the ground, killing dozens and burying others. With a scowl Isabela turned back and pushed her way through the crowds of fighting warriors and made her way to Orieus, who was using his two swords with such skill that Isabela felt a twinge of envy.

"Stop that mad bull!" She shouted to him over the torrent of rain as it sleeted down over them. "It's destroying the castle!"

With a curt nod, Orieus charged forwards, his stride lithe and jumping around the bull heaved his swords into its chest.

"My lady," Isabela twisted slightly to see Mr. Tumnus heaving and panting badly as he made his way to her. "My lady, they are pouring over the drawbridge like mice."

"Send Roran and his centaurs to protect the drawbridge. They mustn't let more enemies enter." Shoving the hideous monster she was fighting, she twisted her blade high. "Give them stern orders not to abandon the drawbridge in any case. And- what are you holding?"

Distracted Isabela did not see the heavy fist that flew towards her. With the strength of raw iron it connected with her cheek and sent her sprawling into the wet ground.

Mr. Tumnus released a sound that was somewhere between a battle- cry and a shriek. As Isabela stared through a haze of dizziness, she saw the bizarre image of Mr. Tumnus striking the monster over and over with a sphere glass ball.

"You dare-you dare-" He spluttered on until his face grew alarmingly red and he struggled for breath. "Are you alright, my lady?'

"Just about." She muttered and jumped to her feet. "Hurry and get to Roran."

Mr. Tumnus scurried off and Isabela advanced to the next enemy. To her surprise when she grabbed it's hood, it released a very undignified shriek and fell to the floor."Don't kill me!"

"Killing you would be one of the greater pleasures of my life, Heidi." Isabela said actually and with a flick she sent Heidi's blade flying off.

"You really don't know how to fight, do you?"

Something like terror shone in Heidi's eyes. "I… Isabela, I was desperate. I…. he would have killed me."

"As I will kill you now."

"I don't think so." Only years of experience could have prepared her for what followed next as Vladimar twisted over her and brought his sword down in a deadly arc.

"You are most skilled at sword-fighting, Isabela, my dear." He said, his voice so pleasant that thye could have been discussing the weather. "You are as skilled as your husband."

"Which means that I'm better than you." She said shortly.

"Oh. I don't doubt that. But you see I do have some other powers as well. Some spectacular gifts." He hissed like a snake and as his eyes bore into Isabela's she felt pain consume her body. Pain, so raw and so blistering that it hurt like anything.

Writhing she fell to the floor and saw only black. When she looked up again, Vladimar's face was graced with a predatory smirk.

"This is a battle you cannot win."

And, like a rearing serpent, he striked.

[][][][][][[][[][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

When Lucy woke up from the deep slumber, it was morning and as she peeked out from under the violet coverlets she saw that the world had turned white over night.

It was Christmas day.

With a delighted cry she sprang out of bed, pounding on Susan who lay deep asleep beside her. Her cries of: "It's Christmas!" were joined by Susan yelps of pain as both of them tumbled out of the bed and onto the floor.

"Lu! Don't be so excitable." Susan said crossly as she scooped up her lush black waterfall of hair and tied them into a messy bun. "Yes, yes. I know it's Christmas but that doesn't mean you should wrestle with people at eight in the morning."

Lucy rolled her eyes, shaking her head so that her pixie-cut red hair bounced and bobbed.

"You are such a bore." She pronounced before running out of the room to that adjacent and promptly giving her brothers the same greeting which she had given her elder sister. With great patience, Peter poked his blond head and said groggily: "What time is it?"

"It's hell o'clock." Edmund moaned, his coffee hair badly tousled. "What is wrong with you, Lu? Is your internal clock badly clogged up?"

"It's Christmas!" Lucy told him, her eyes merry and bright. "Come on! It's time to open presents!"

Edmund's eyes shot open and with stunning speed he jumped out and bounded down the stairs.

"First!" He yelled back to Lucy who giggled and made to follow him. From the opposite room, Susan scowled down at her siblings.

"Oh lighten up, Su," Peter said laughing lightly as he swept a hand through his hair. "It's Christmas."

"I know." She said grumpily. "Lucy has repeated that line about a hundred times. Some particularly close to my aching ear drum. It sounded like a howling cat."

Peter rolled his sea-blue eyes and he muttered: "Party-pooper."

Susan's eyes popped open. "What did you call me?" She shrieked at her brother who stuck out his tongue at her. Gathering up her dressing robe, she ran after him. "Peter Pevensie, you insulting, insincere little toad!"

"That's an improvement from yesterday." Edmund informed Peter, tugging out candies from a brightly colored woolen sock that hung over the mantle. "What was it? You dumb, stupid, bumbling buffoon of an idiot."

"I can say worse!" Susan fumed at him and then her eyes fell on the lovely rose pink sock he grabbed next. Her face drained of color. "My sock!"

Then started a most exhilarating game of tag in which Edmund bounded all over the house in his pyjamas waving Susan's sock in the air and a livid, red faced Susan chasing him: an umbrella in her hand that she waved for dramatic emphasis and the house shook with her shrieks of rage.

Lucy poked her head from behind the brilliantly lit Christmas tree. "There they go again." She sighed. "Honestly, you'd think they were both five years old."

"While you're fifty, grandma?" Peter teased her as he eased down beside her. "What did you get?"

Lucy held out armful of half-unwrapped gifts and then her eyes fell on a gift hidden deep down by the tree's branches.

"What's that?" She asked curiously, crawling under it to snatch it out. "Who is it for?"

"I don't know." Peter said frowning. "What does it say?"

Lucy turned it over: "Nothing."

By then a triumphant Susan and a sullen Edmund had joined them again and their bickering stopped as they too gazed curiously at the gift.

"Open it." Susan told them.

"Sureee." Edmund said, eyeing it suspiciously. "What if it's a highly dangerous nuclear bomb?"

"Shut up, Ed." Susan glared at him. "Open it, Peter."

Gently Peter removed the glittering emerald green wrapper and from it fell out a half-burned note while Peter was left holding an intricately carved frame.

A poignant silence fell. His siblings exchanged glances and then looked at Peter's odd expression.

"What is it, Peter?"

Susan knelt down and picked up the smoldering note.

"The High King Peter and his wife, High Queen Isabela. A gift from Narnia to their beloveds. " She glanced up and said: "Oh, Peter."

Peter turned away and as the portrait turned over, Susan saw her brother's face smiling out at her and beside him: her long hair beautifully coiffure, a lovely smile on her face and her emerald green eyes shining: Isabela.

A portrait. A gift from Narnia.

"Look." Lucy said softly. "There's writing on it."

And indeed there was. On the corner, written in cursive, were the words:

Nothing on earth can break apart love.

What belongs to Narnia, always returns to Narnia.

And just above it was the imprint of a paw. Aslan.

The gift was from Aslan.

"Peter…" Edmund trailed off unsure of what to do but then Lucy stood up and went to her elder brother, embracing him as if he were her lifeline. Silently Susan and Edmund joined them, wrapping each other in themselves.

Helen Pevensie, standing on the doorframe with tears in her eyes, saw a family united in love.

Aslan in contrast, watching them with gentle eyes, saw a family united by all they had lost and with the hope that they would gain it again. Someday.

[][][][][][[][[][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Three months later….

The sky was weeping and it's huge, teardrops rained fiercely to the ground. Standing amidst the storm's fury was a lone figure, carrying a bundle carefully in his arms, cloaked in ebony, his hairy hooves trampling the family of slender reeds that dotted the muddy bank. He kept glancing behind as if he feared that he was being followed and sloshing through the mud, blinking rain from his lashes he made it to the river's end. From the large maple tree that crowned the bank a pair of beavers scurried down from its branches.

"Oh Mr. Tumnus!" Mrs. Beaver asked breathlessly. "Has Narnia fallen? Is it true?"

Mr. Tumnus sighed. "No. Not yet." His expression turned distant as he said gravely. "But it will soon enough."

Her husband, gathered his furry head in his hands and moaned. "But surely the Kings and Queens are doing something. The High King-"

"Is gone." Mr. Tumnus said miserably. "No sign of them. It was as if they vanished into thin air."

"Aslan?" Mrs. Beaver whispered. "Is he-?

"No. he hasn't been seen at all."

In the stunned silence that followed, Mrs. Beaver's huge eyes brimmed with tears that fell over and trickled down her face.

"No hope." Mr. Beaver moaned. "No hope at all. What will you do?"

"The High Queen has ordered the survivors to evacuate the castle." Mr. Tumnus held back tears. "She herself has no strength to travel. She will fight for the castle alone."

Hesitating slightly, he held out the bundle of blankets in his arms and said in a barely audible whisper.

"She also instructed me to give him to you."

"Him?" Mr. Beaver said blankly as his wife gently took the child from Mr. Tumnus' arms. Stifling a gasp he peered into its face. He was sleeping and his skin was flawlessly pale. His tiny fists were curled around his body and his golden hair shone like a lion's mane in the flash of thunder. And when he opened his eyes, to peer back at the Beavers, they saw that his eyes were green – emerald green like the plains of Narnia, green like the most abundant forests- Isabela's eyes.

"The High King's child." Mr. Tumnus said hollowly. "His son."

"What are we to do?"

"Take him away from Narnia. Keep him safe." He turned his glinting eyes to the Beavers. "We would take him with us but it is too risky. No one will suspect this."

After a tremulous pause he went on. "Tell him about his father, his mother – who is the bravest of all. Tell him about Aslan, about us and about the Narnia he never saw. Raise him up to fight for the land of his parents. He is the heir of Narnia."

"And the High Queen?"

Mr. Tumnus' expression became even more grief stricken.

"The High Queen's dying." He said flatly. "She fought for Cair Paravel until the last drop of blood she had."

"What did she name him?"

The tears pooled out and splattered the red earth.

"Lionel. She named him Lionel."

" For the Lion." Mr. Beaver whispered.

For a few moments they said nothing and instead stared down at the child nestling in the blankets, his face like an angel's.

Finally Mr. Tumnus leaned down and kissed the child's forehead. Straightening up he said in a broken voice. "Go now. Make haste! And take good care of him."

"We will let no harm come to him." Mr. Beaver said in a harsh whisper. "That I promise you."

They scurried away into the falling rain. Mr. Tumnus stood watching as the shadowy figures faded away into nothingness. The tears he had held for so long fell away and weeping he turned his back to them. Silently, softly he made his way back to the castle where death and destruction lay.

From the very red earth of Narnia came a low, hauntingly touching call, a sweet tune that spoke of the creatures' love for Narnia. The stricken melody of the forest reached him and he knew that the creatures, naiads and dryads, were lamenting over the loss of Narnia. It was haunting and beautiful and rose above the screeching of the wind. And as it's echoes died away he whispered :

"May Aslan help us. May Aslan help us all."

[][][][][][[][[][][][][][][][][][][][][[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Woah! Almost 7000 words! This is my all time record. A special treat to my loyal readers and reviewers.

Personally this chapter is my favorite. Not only because it's so tragic and touching but because it shows Isabela's true character: brave, selfless and fierce, not just a sobbing heroine. If the entire story was the development of her character, then this chapter was the climax. Here I'd like to confirm that yes, Isabela indeed had a child – a boy named Lionel. Also this chapter shows the relationship of the Pevensie family and how Narnia and the war changed their relationship.

To those readers who wanted Isabela and Peter to meet again: Never fear! Maybe, perhaps one day, they will meet each other again. That's up to your imagination.

And so, after around two years of editing and writing and updating and thinking up good jokes for the Pevensie siblings, the story ends. My thanks to all the angels who reviewed it and encouraged me. Thank you to those who followed it and "favorited" it. To all my early reviewers and my recent reviewers, I cannot express my gratitude to you. This chapter is dedicated to all of you for your support and your care and your lovely comments that made my day.

I end the chapter on the same note as that in which all the previous ended: Review, review, review! Come on guys please! This is the last chapter. Please, please, please review! Those who simply read it or follow it or favorite it…. Please. I request you to review.

So… With hundreds of tears, I officially say goodbye to The High King's Queen.

Regards,

L. Potter