A/N: I'm very aware that this fic isn't the absolute perfect one when it comes to typos and such; I'd like to apologize for that. When I update this fic I do it when I have the time, and when I have the time it's usually when I've just finished writing a paper or doing a project, so my mindset isn't as functional as I would prefer it to be. Anyway, I've decided to get a Beta Reader. So if any of you lovely reviewers could refer me to good one, I'd really appreciate it.

Chapter 8: Diagnosis

"Order! Order in the court!" Oreius' dominant voice bellowed around the courtroom, and the murmuring Lords and Ladies were silenced under his starry gaze. "By the order of Aslan's blessed, High King Peter the Magnificent, King Edmund the Just and Queen Lucy the Valiant, the Royal Physician of Cair Paravel, home of Narnia's most respectable monarchy to date – Lord Tyr ."

A plump little man, shorter than even Lucy rushed to the front of the room and fell to one knee. "You're majesties. High Kings and Queen of Narnia. My deepest condolences to your Gentle sister."

Peter smiled at the little man; it was all he could do. And judging by the tired expressions on both Edmund and Lucy's faces, he could tell it was all they could do, too. It was nearing midnight by the time Peter had ordered a private council meeting, and Aldred stood by him, his poise perfect, his jaw clenched, his eyes set. Each and every knight, lord and lady was dressed in their nightwear. All, he could tell, were very tired, although it was the look of fear and paranoia in their eyes that bested all of their exhausted stances.

Susan's condition had only worsened, worsened so much that the siblings were forced to call for the Royal Physician, the honorable Lord Tyr. Her veins, still blue against her skin, were only mere to them now; there had been four instances in which she regained consciousness again, but each awakening told them nothing. She had screamed and thrashed during the first two, begging her attacker not to hurt her, cried in the third, and spoke through tongues the fourth and hopefully last time. Peter and Edmund were forced to hold her down against the sheets, while Lucy had held her and kissed her and at one point, sang her back to sleep. Whatever her attacker had done to her was taking effect fast.

"Tyr, Great Physician of Cair Paravel. Your presence is most valued. Please rise," Peter ordered.

Tyr did as he was told, shaking as he rose.

"Do tell us, great physician, of the diagnosis you have concluded regarding her most Gentle Queen."

Tyr nodded shakily. "My King, it was not a normal blade that penetrated Queen Susan, but a wretched one. A cursed one. Dark magic is at work here."

There was large murmur around the court, Lucy had gasped, and Peter felt a lump in his throat that he quickly tried to swallow as hard he could. "More," Edmund spluttered out, the fear reflecting in his eyes. "Tell us more."

"Through my inspection I have concluded that it is a rare poison known as Ius Mortis, known to be administered through stab wounds. Eventually the poison would spread throughout the body; the blue in the veins you see of your gentle sister is a side effect, and not a good one. It is a sign that poison is spreading, and fast. Eventually the poison would bring death."

At that, the court gasped, and several Ladies, friends of Susan no doubt, had cried aloud and dabbed their faces with crumpled handkerchiefs. "Silence!" Peter ordered. "Silence!"

When the murmur died out, Tyr spoke again. "Another detail, my High King. The poison I speak of – Ius Mortis – is known to grow in one land alone – one of which belongs to King Lune himself. Archenland."

Peter felt his heart drop to his stomach. The cracks of sweat dripping down his face now splashed to his laps, although he could no longer tell if it was sweat or tears. Archenland. King Lune. Revenge. Revenge for the alleged kidnapping of Corin. The one he was thought to be behind.

He finally found his voice to speak. "And the cordial is of no use?"

"I am afraid not, my lord. Your Valiant sister the Queen has administered a drop – sadly to no prevail."

"But surely we can stop this?"

"Alas, there are two methods, my lord," Tyr said darkly, and Edmund and Lucy sat straighter in their seats. "A healing process, although it is taboo, known as Recessus, in which we…" he paused a little while, as if short of breath, then regained himself. "In which we are to extract the venom through the process of extracting the infected blood, meaning we must…" he trailed off.

Peter held up a hand. He didn't need to hear anymore. Susan was in pain. The last thing she needed was to have her own blood squeezed out of her until the monstrous venom – the one that he was almost sure was ordered by Lune – was dead and gone. "And the other method, Tyr?"

"A rare cure, even rarer than the poison itself," Tyr said. "It grows on very tops of trees of Terenbithia. A flower that blooms this very summertime, my King. The Florus Intrivictius. Once administered, the poison will cease its domination of the body, and will exit the body through the normal process of regurgitation."

"It is a three days trip to Terenbithia, is it not?" Peter asked Oreius almost immediately after Tyr had finished.

"Two, perhaps, with these clear skies," Oreius replied observantly.

"Then there is no time to waste," Edmund said, rising from his throne. "Ready our best sailors and our best voyages. And have them leave Cair as soon as possible and return as soon as possible."

"As soon as possible indeed," Tyr added. "I fear we have only little time before we must resort to Recessus, my liege."

Peter nodded gravely, and turned to Lucy, who merely stared ahead, blue eyes locked into nothingness, her face holding the exact same expression it had all night. He then turned to Oreius and nodded again. "You know what to do."

Oreius returned the knowing gaze, his eyes locked to Peter's for a moment, and then he glided out of the room, the sound of his horn echoing through the corridors surrounding the throne room.

Peter turned back to the Lords, the Ladies, and animals and found his voice again. "The Council is dismissed. You may return to your chambers." As the council shuffled tiredly out of the room, Peter flashed a tired glare to Edmund and Lucy. "And as for you two – get as much rest as possible. That's an order."

Lucy nodded, and slowly rose from her chair, her poise as low as it could get before it was a slouch, her handkerchief crumpled against her mouth. She walked from her throne to the exit with almost a limp, and Edmund rushed beside her. "Easy, Lu."

She said nothing but nodded at him, ensuring him she could carry on her own now. Once out of earshot, Edmund turned to Peter. "I've never seen her like this. I know Lu when she's scared, but this – this is above anything else, Pete."

Peter nodded gravely, and walked up to his brother and grabbed his arm, gripping it as tight he could. "We will get through this, Ed. Don't think we won't. By Aslan, never, ever think we won't." With one last pat on the back and a kiss atop Edmund's forehead goodnight, Peter walked to the exit, disappearing into the corridors of the opposite wing Lucy had taken.

It was then that Edmund raced out of the council chambers, hearing the satyr guards slam the doors shut behind him as he did so, and found Lucy, still walking crookedly along the marble floors leading to her chambers.

"Lucy! Lucy! Oi, Lu!" he shouted. It took a while until she heard, and then turned to meet his gaze and then turned back, continuing her walk. "Lucy, wait, will you?"

"What is it, Ed?" Lucy wailed, rubbing her reddening eyes.

"That poison," Edmund said, catching his breath and then pacing at the same level she was. "I know I probably have no right to be suspicious, but why is it from Archenland? Any citizen of Archenland is friend of Narnia, are they not?"

"I don't know, Ed," Lucy said, her voice cracked. "Who says you have to be from Archenland to possess such a terrible flower anyway?"

"I don't know," Edmund admitted. "Do you think it could be another thing Peter's—"

"Well I've got a question now," Lucy interrupted, stopping in her tracks. "Why is all this important, Ed, when Susan's practically dying in the next room? Who cares what poison it was? And as of now, who cares who did it? I'd rather spend my days nursing our sister back to health, making sure she's not dead by morning than creating ridiculous conspiracies that can only end in 'I don't know'." It was not anger flashing in her eyes, but something more dangerous; grief. Confusion. Hopelessness.

It took Edmund a while before he could find his voice. "Lucy, I never said – please –"

"We need to get some sleep, Ed," Lucy said, and as the two reached her corridor, she pushed the velvet doors open. "Or at least you do. Susan needs me."

o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o

The clear, crisp steps leading to the same balcony they had agreed to meet at earlier alerted him of Aldred's arrival. Although instead of his bright red cape shining against Narnia's morning sun, it was shining in the complete opposite, in the pale moonlight. "Aldred."

"My King," Aldred said, settling himself before bowing graciously low. "My Most respectable, honorable High King."

"Not as of now, I'm afraid," Peter sighed, turning to face Aldred from the glistening Eastern sea. "Our conflict with Archenland only worsens by the second, Aldred. I am almost certain Lune is behind the Queen Susan's poisoning."

"My Lord," Aldred spluttered. "I object to even thinking of accusing the good King Lune of such a sin."

"That's how I started, Aldred," Peter said tiredly. "I thought the exact same thing to myself. I convinced myself that even if we are on the brink of warfare, Lune would never go as far as to poison one of Narnia's own. Although, with this fallacy of a letter fooling him into thinking I sold dear Cor into slavery, who can really blame him?"

It was then that Aldred placed a daring hand on Peter's shoulder. "This fallacy of a letter will be proven wrong, my Lord. That I can assure. Wrong will be right, lies will be unwoven, and by Aslan, innocent blood will not be spilt. That I can almost guarantee."

"I hope so, Aldred. I daringly hope so," Peter replied. "I know you have sent half your legion posted on our borders. And I appreciate it with every fiber being; truly I do. But I feel this will only take effect if someone was to talk with Lune, and perhaps try and reason with him."

"Your majesty," Aldred said, his expression and stance gallant as ever, "I would be most willing to ride with my men to Archenland. And I would be most honored to prevent anymore warfare between Aslan's country and dear Archenland. Most honored indeed."

"Thank you Aldred. It seems you are the only."

It was then that Peter bid the good Sir Knight a good rest, and retreated to his chambers, ready to slip into sleep for as long as he could before he had to wake and face the most terrible reality he has ever had to face before. Sleep, to him, was crucial.

But not that night, as, once again, none of them had been allowed sleep; for Susan's bloodcurdling scream, one that was quite significant from the other ones, one that sounded like a final scream before death, had echoed across the chambers.

Just a fun fact: with the magical power of google translate, I managed to create the names of the poison and the healing methods – Ius Mortis literally translates to "Elixir of Death", while "Recessus" translates to "extract".

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always, I will update as soon as I can. Please Rate and Review, as those are the best forms of motivation I can feel.

xx Izzy