Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.
Summary: When memory is veiled, can the love forged between two hearts survive?
A/N: If you have not read the first seven stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, and Reflected), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.
Chapter Two: Clinging to…
Relief coursed through him when the Black Elder Nymph shook her head, her dark hair swaying. "No. But, Alambiel is…" She looked down then sighed. "Oreius, whoever took her, whoever did this to her, they tortured her and you might find it…difficult to recognize her at the moment."
Oreius closed his eyes at the painful thought that someone had once again captured Alambiel and had delivered even worse hurt than she had suffered two months past. His fists clenched as he blew out a slow breath, steeling himself as he focused on one fact: Not dead. His Alambiel was not dead, hurt but not dead. Opening his eyes, he gave a curt nod. "I am prepared. Let me see her." For a moment, he thought Tuulea might argue but then she acquiesced and pulled back the curtain, allowing him to enter. Truly, he had believed himself prepared, but still he gasped.
The only thing that identified the woman on the cot as Alambiel was her hair…he couldn't say that he would have recognized her without it. Her face was swollen, bruised, and covered in little cuts. It looked as though her nose had been broken at least once. Bandages wrapped around her head and more were wrapped tightly around her hands and each individual finger, contrasting with the cream-colored sheet that had been pulled up under her arms. He could see other bandages peeking out from beneath her shift where they covered her left collarbone and it looked as though her left arm was broken as well…
Approaching the cot, Oreius' hand wavered over her as he sought some place he could touch to confirm this was real without causing her more pain. He finally settled on curling a blonde lock between his fingers. Aslan…Aslan, how could this be? His voice sounded ragged to his own ears as he asked, "How badly has she been injured?"
The prolonged silence was…alarming. Tearing his gaze away from Alambiel's still form, Oreius looked at the healers standing on the other side of the cot. Tuulea and Alithia exchanged a long look then the Nymph nodded. Alithia flicked her tail then slowly replied, "They tortured her. They pushed her as close to death as they could. They ripped out all her nails, fingers and toes. She has multiple broken ribs, two of them are perilously close to puncturing a lung, and it looks like whoever did this crushed her ribcage as much as they were able to and still keep her alive. She has a broken leg, which was aggravated. We believe she ran on it. They opened all of her old scars, Oreius, even the ones on her back…except for the scars in the center of her hands. They crushed the bones in her hands, instead. She also has head trauma."
The litany of wounds, of injuries, was nearly too much to bear. Oreius stroked Alambiel's hair, allowing the blonde lock to curl around his fingers, hiding the rage that fought to find expression. Someone had done this to his heart, had dared to hurt her, to torture her. The words rose unbidden, but that did naught to detract from their lethal promise. "I will destroy them." Shaking his head, he took a deep breath, forcing the rage, the need to lash out at the ones responsible for Alambiel's pain, down. The effort strained his voice. "Did she give you any information about who attacked her? How she came to be on the Ettinsmoor border? Why they did this?"
The healers shook their heads. Tuulea moved closer, so she was now directly across from him. Her dark gaze focused on Alambiel for a long moment. Raising her eyes to meet his, she spoke very softly, "Oreius, she is in a coma. Alambiel may never wake up."
Oh Aslan, no.
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Three days had passed since Alambiel had been brought back to the Cair, broken. Oreius spent the nights in the healing ward, watching and waiting for any sign that she would wake. His days…he had opted to place his own name on the limited duty roster under the miscellaneous section. Between his captains and lieutenants, all but the most pressing duties were taken care of and when he was not with Alambiel, he was interrogating the soldiers who had found her. But, they could tell him next to nothing. A storm had reached the northern foothills, destroying Alambiel's trail, and their concern over her condition had prompted the captain in charge of the patrol to forego searching for her attackers in favor of returning to Cair Paravel.
The underlying fear that she would slip away without ever waking constantly sought to bring him to despair, but he refused to give heed to those doubts or even Tuulea and Alithia's quiet caution. His Alambiel was a survivor. She would fight to stay and she would win. The summer heat remained unbroken by rain and it was a growing concern for the healers.
Entering the healers' wing on the fourth afternoon, Oreius ignored the junior healers bustling about (three of whom had been set to working large fans to help cool the room) and stepped into the curtained off area. Her soft, labored breathing was the only sign of life. Aslan, help her. He still could only touch her hair for fear of causing her additional pain, but even as Oreius gently curled a golden strand that had worked its way loose of her braid around his fingers, his mind struggled to mesh this suffering, clinging to life state with his vibrant Alambiel. The mare who could never be still, always moving, always plotting, always making his life more interesting. No, this stillness was unnatural. Oreius closed his eyes for a moment, pushing the fear and worry down. He easily recalled how she had looked the morn she had left Cair Paravel…
She was pulling clothes out of her travel pack as he tapped on the door. Glancing up, his cheeky little minx smiled, placing a finger against her lips. "Shh! Don't tell Tuulea."
"Why are you unpacking? Have you decided to stay?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "No." Alambiel fastened the pack, looking more soldier than Princess Royal in her simple tunic and leggings even with her golden hair tamed into an intricately braided chignon. "I'm still going on that ridiculous boat, but I do not need to bring these extremely formal dresses with me since I'm only acting as the Princess Royal twice. I'm bringing three formal gowns, which is more than enough. And since Leeta is already at the docks, there's no one to tell on me."
Oreius smiled, chuckling softly at her playful mischief (he had no doubt Tuulea was well aware of Alambiel's habits regarding her packing). The words he longed to say rose within him, but he wanted to do something special when he finally asked her to be his wife, something where they would not be rushed or interrupted. When Alambiel returned though, when she returned, he would ask. For now, he contented himself with a far simpler question. "May I escort you to the ship?"
Fondness lit her blue eyes as she stepped closer, pack slung over one shoulder. "Of course, a chara." Alambiel touched his cheek then rose on her toes, brushing her lips against his. She grinned at him. "There. Now you don't have to worry about me wanting another public display of affection in front of everyone who's shown up to see Lucy and me off."
Oreius snorted. "I was not worried."
"Were you planning to kiss me at the docks?" He hadn't considered it and she knew it. It was obvious in the mischievous gleam in her eyes as she nodded. "Thought so."
He would have argued the point or at least given her his reasons, but they were running out of time. The Morning Dove, Queen Lucy's new personal vessel, would be setting sail with the tide soon. "Be careful. Do not get into trouble this time."
"Oh don't worry, Kentauri. Lucy and I will be fine. Remember it was really Edmund and Tarrin who found all the trouble last time, not to mention causing this trip to be necessary, and those two Murphy magnets are staying here with you." She paused then tilted her head as an exaggerated expression of concern appeared. "Oh my! On second thought, maybe I should be worried about you being stuck here."
He chuckled. "Minx. Come now, we cannot linger."
She huffed, muttering under her breath about Murphy and boats and impatient Centaurs as she headed around him into the sitting room. Oreius could only watch her, trying not to smile at her antics. The words he wanted most to say were tantalizing. "Alambiel…"
Pausing mid-step, she turned back toward him with a quizzical expression. Marry me. He did not voice the thought, not yet. Not when it was so rushed. Instead, he closed the distance between them and pulled her into an abrupt hug, inhaling the cinnamon scent clinging to her hair. He pressed his lips against her temple as her arms came around him, returning the embrace. Setting her back down, Oreius caressed her cheek. "I will miss you, Alambiel."
A slow smile spread across her lips as she curled her fingers over his hand, leaning her cheek against his palm. "I'll miss you too, Oreius. Just try not to get lost in your paperwork while I'm gone." She squeezed his hand. "And, I love you too."
"General?"
The question jarred Oreius out of his memories as he looked over his shoulder. Tanith. The Centauress gave Alambiel's still form a pitying look, something his Alambiel would have hated if she were awake to see it. "Forgive me for disturbing you, but both Tuulea and Alithia said you should remember to tend to your own needs. They have charged me with seeing that you do not ignore any more meals, Sir."
He had wondered when they would resort to such measures; though truly, he was more than fit and he was loathe to leave Alambiel's side. "Give me a moment more, if you please." When Tanith retreated, he turned back to his beloved. There was no change. She still lingered, clinging to life with each breath. They needed the Valiant Queen to return with the cordial soon. Leaning down, Oreius placed his mouth against her ear and whispered, "Keep fighting, Alambiel. Do not leave us yet, my love, not yet. I will return shortly, I promise."
He waited a moment, hoping against hope that she might give some indication that she heard him, but there was none. Tanith was waiting near the doors and he was thankful for the courtesy she had rendered by not staying where she might overhear his words to Alambiel. The Centauress' warm brown eyes were filled with sympathy as she spoke, "I arranged for a meal to be delivered to the solarium nearest here. I am certain you do not wish to be far should anything change."
Oreius bowed his head in thanks. "That should satisfy Alithia, no doubt." The meal should have been tempting and perhaps it would have been had Alambiel been the one he shared it with, but now everything was without flavor and taste. He could care less what he ate. His mind was consumed with more than a little frustration that the Morning Dove had yet to reach Cair Paravel.
"General Oreius?"
He focused on Tanith…he had nearly forgotten she was in the room. "Your pardon, Tanith, my thoughts were elsewhere."
The healer pushed back her long, black hair then touched his hand. "I understand. There has been no word from the Valiant?"
"No," he said stiffly. Stepping away from the high table they had been using, he crossed to the window facing the sea, searching in vain for Queen Lucy's trig little ship. "The decision was made to have the Merfolk deliver the message as the heat has been so difficult on even our strongest flyers. However-"
"They won't be able to bring the cordial back."
"It was not asked of them. However, I had hoped to hear news of the Morning Dove's departure."
Tanith touched his arm then handed him a goblet of chilled wine. "You should drink this. Alithia also bid me to remind you that you will be unable to help the Princess Royal if you do not keep your own strength up."
Taking the goblet, he stared into its burgundy depths then shook his head. "You may inform Alithia and Tuulea that you witnessed me tend to my own needs, Tanith. I need to return to Alambiel."
"General Oreius," she called after him. "Do you believe she will wake?"
"Yes." He did not add that he dared not think otherwise, that it would be too much to bear to think his heart would not wake once more. Oh Aslan, let her stay. I wish only to hear her laughter, her teasing, and see the love in her eyes again. Please, Great Lion, please let her stay. Let her linger long enough for the cordial to be brought to her.
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She heard voices again, first three then two then only one. For a moment, she almost recognized them. Then a sharp pain flared and she let go of the tenuous thread, no longer attempting to hang on to the fleeting memory. It hurt too much. Her eyelids felt heavy and for some reason she could only open one. She stared up at the clean, delicately arched ceiling. Why was she surprised to see it was clean and gleaming white marble?
She tried to take a deep breath but her lungs screamed in agonizing protest. Biting back a whimper, she turned her head, ignoring the lesser pain that movement caused. Someone was staring down at her. A voice boomed, "Tuulea! Alithia!" Dark eyes gleamed with distinct pleasure and relief as he smiled down at her. "Thank Aslan, you are awake." He leaned closer, pleasure now replaced with a serious concern. "I would not press you if it were not urgent, but please tell me who did this to you? Who attacked you?"
More voices came closer, making her head pound. She felt something wet trickle down her cheek…a tear, but she couldn't decide why she was crying, whether it was from pain or fear. She stared up at him then hoarsely whispered, "Who are you?
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A/N: Please Read and Review!