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 Seventeen: Conflicted

4 Frostmoon 1008

Alambiel closed her book with a snap. It was another of the books on Narnian history she had been scouring, hoping to remember something safe that would not set off any more nightmares but so far the nightmares came every night, though she did not always remember anything save fear and a remembered pain. Maybe she should search the pack now. Captain Ardon had delivered it yesterday saying only that it had been left in the Seven Isles.

Rummaging through the pockets, she couldn't find any that seemed the least bit helpful. Turning the pack inside out, she spied a shadowed area where her mind insisted there shouldn't be. Finding laces hidden beneath the seamed border, her interest was piqued. The laces sealed a hidden pocket, which contained only one item – a tooled leather wristlet. Pulling it out, Alambiel traced the pattern of a star set within a forget-me-not set within a stylized sunburst.

His word choice alerted her. It was not what he would have said had he purchased the wristlet. She couldn't believe he had made this, had taken the time to craft something for her. But, still she had to ask him. She looked up. "You made this?"

Her heart swelled with joy and love, but his face remained hidden in the shadows. She stepped closer, wanting a better look at his face. "Who are you?"

Hands wrapped around her neck, choking and bruising, as he laughed, soft and mocking. She clawed at his hands. Digging in with her nails. The hands only tightened their hold. Black spots were forming before her eyes. Her dagger! She reached for it and-

Alambiel blinked. She was flat on her back with the pack lying a few inches away from her. The back of her head throbbed from the impact with the floor. But, she wasn't crying and there weren't any witnesses this time. She supposed that was a minute improvement to the other times something like this had happened. Rolling over carefully, she noticed the wristlet lying nearby. She picked it up but no memories rose up to greet her this time. Looking around the bedchamber, she had the sudden urge to get out of the palace.

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Oreius,

We survived the trip (so far) and Lucy is now locked away with boring negotiations. Ptah and I are availing ourselves of the company of Hadassah House. You cannot tell him I said this, but he really is adorable when the girls (with Crina in the lead) drape their very best ribbons all over him. I am almost done with the Spring room. I just need to add a few more details to Selene and then it will be finished. I'm thinking I'll be boring and work on a design for the Summer room next. Actually I shall go finish those last details and then I'll bore you with gossip and ask impertinent questions about how Susan is taking her time off now that the wedding is over (She's plotting for nephews and nieces, already, isn't she?).

Oh and I was wondering

There was no more. Oreius suspected that Alambiel had gone to finish the mural and the wretches took her then. He returned the unfinished letter, the last time his Alambiel had attempted to reach out to him, to the drawer and locked it away with the rest. He needed to take firmer control of his emotions. There were no more clues to be found in her letter.

King Edmund's summons was a welcome distraction. Oreius could hear him grumbling at the Greyback twins even before he reached the Just's study. "Remus, what have I told you about bothering Sophocles?"

"But, he's a spy!"

Oreius shook his head. For some reason, the Greyback twins had decided Sophocles, a very cantankerous and less than sociable Badger who lived in the eastern gardens, was not to be trusted. King Edmund's exasperation was clear in his voice and the dark look currently fixed on the two grey Wolves. "Sophocles is not a spy. He's Lucy's friend and you know very well that you are not supposed to go around calling creatures who don't smell familiar Fell."

"But-"

King Edmund raised his hand and both Wolf pups crouched low. "Not another word. Go inspect the training yard and leave Sophocles alone." The Wolves whined and slunk out of the room, not even daring to look up at Oreius when they passed him. His dark colt fell back into his chair. "One well-deserved scratched nose and they think it's attempted murder. Blast Peter."

Oreius bowed his head but did not offer to replace the Wolves. He knew his dark colt had grown very fond of them even though they were still very green…and occasionally misplaced their zealous efforts to guard their charge. "You wished to speak with me, My King?"

"Yes," his dark colt tapped a letter lying open on top of various other papers, "Count Achan's family has contacted us. They think we're just trying to protect Kat because she is a royal, so they are coming to Cair Paravel to present their complaint at a formal hearing."

"Has the Princess Royal been informed?"

King Edmund shook his head. "No. I think it might be best to wait to inform her until it's closer to the time for the arrival of the late count's relatives. His mother and four cousins are coming."

Though he was uncertain of how well that would go over (especially with Alambiel's history of stumbling across the things they delayed telling her well before they had planned), Oreius had no real reason to object. "The High King should be here to speak with them."

"Yes, and Peter sent word with one of the Falcons that he'll return tomorrow night. Count Achan's family is expected to be here in a week as they still need to finish the mourning rites."

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Crossing the main courtyard, Oreius' steps slowed when he caught sight of Ptah conversing with Kumbali and Sarti just in front of the entrance to one of the smaller training yards. The Big Cats ceased their conversation at his approach but he could see the apprehension in the Tigers was not share by Ptah. Instead, the Leopard looked…excited. "She's in the training yard. Examining the weapons rack."

A faint tendril of hope bloomed, growing stronger as he considered what it might mean. Still, he took care not to allow any hint of emotion in his voice as he briskly order her guard to take their leave. As the Big Cats and Birds slipped away, Oreius entered the training yard. Alambiel was standing in the middle of the yard.

She hadn't noticed his presence yet, all her focus on the blade she held in front of her. Her left hand was against the flat of the blade then she closed her eyes. She stepped forward, dipping the sword to her right. A block. She leaned to her left, sword slashing through an unseen opponent. Her arms raised into a high block.

Unsheathing a sword, Oreius approached her from behind. Alambiel continued to move through the basic exercise. Would this be the key to unlocking her memories? He did not know, but the hope persisted. Alambiel whirled, eyes still closed, and slashed down from a high block. Oreius raised his own blade and stopped the blow. Alambiel's eyes flew open and she stared up at him with a wild surprise. She was panting slightly and her lips parted before she disengaged her blade.

Oreius spread his hands wide then sheathed his sword. Alambiel licked her lips nervously as she lowered the sword. "I didn't mean to trespass."

He was tempted to touch her. He forced his hands to wrap around the hilts of his twin swords. He didn't want to frighten her, after all. "You did not. How did it feel?"

At first, he wondered if she would answer but then Alambiel whispered, "Familiar." She turned away running a hand over her hair, fingers fiddling with one of the hair ornaments tucked into her twisted chignon. "I can feel that it is familiar. My hands, my entire body moves into this dance of death and I don't even know why or how it is I know these things." She set the sword back into its appropriate slot on the weapons rack and then stepped back, nervously smoothing her hands over the back of her dress.

He pondered if she realized her habit of checking for her twin knives was showing itself. Most likely not. But, it gave him hope that his Alambiel was still there, fighting to come out from where she had been forced into hiding. "Would you like to talk about it?"

She stilled. "Do you believe me? About what happened, I mean."

"I believe you were sincere." Oreius hesitated, weighing his words. "Something about Count Achan must have felt wrong to you, but as you could not remember protocol, you reacted in accordance with your training."

The laugh that escaped her was wrong, it was a bitter scoff so misplaced coming from Alambiel's lips. "Oh, how wonderful. I am a trained monster."

"That is a lie." Taking the risk, he placed his hand on her shoulder. "You are not a monster. You are a trained protector. You are a protector, Alambiel." He stopped himself before he captured her chin and tilted her face up so he might see if she believed him and not the lies haunting her, but he did not remove his hand. "You should not believe yourself anything less."

Alambiel didn't look at him, but she didn't pull away from his touch either. "I am afraid of what I have done, what I can do, and what I will do. I don't have good control. What happens if I murder again?"

"Training will help with your control. Perhaps the familiarity of the routine will also prove further beneficial."

She pulled away, already shaking her head. "No. I can't."

"Walk with me." When she looked at him, he softened his tone further. "Come for a walk with me and then I should like it very much if you would explain why you do not wish to train."

Alambiel brushed back some loose strands of hair and Oreius' breath caught in his chest when he saw she wore the wristlet. Did she remember who gave it to her? Could that be why she was acting nervously around him and not because his presence was forcing difficult memories to the surface? Hope grew stronger when she nodded. They walked in silence from the training yard to the southern gardens. The maze was unoccupied for the moment as the Queens and Just King held court (the Greyback brothers were still running around and digging holes in the largest training yard…he would have to send Badgers and Dwarfs to repair the holes before holding drills) and Oreius purposely led her there.

Alambiel was quiet until they were well within the maze. "I don't think anyone would be happy to see me training and I don't know if I can train while being watched."

"Would you agree to private training then? We can use the smaller training yard at around ninth hour in the evenings. You can train with Ardon, myself, and Caia. Alithia will most likely surpervise-"

"Not Alithia." Alambiel's tone brooked no argument as she looked up at him. "I won't touch any weapon if someone vulnerable is present. I won't risk losing control again around someone who has an unborn foal to protect."

Oreius bowed his head. "Very well. Alithia will not be allowed within the training yard."

Alambiel abruptly turned away from him, walking down a seeming dead end, but she went straight to the hidden door. She remembered. Oreius followed, hoping that she recalled why the hidden garden within the maze was special to her…and to him. He shut the door then turned to see her looking at him. She was fiddling with the wristlet, rubbing her thumb over the pattern. "I agree. I'll train with you. And with Ardon and Caia as well."

"Where did you find the wristlet?" It wasn't what he had intended to say and he feared for a moment that she would close herself off again.

She dropped her gaze. "In a secret pocket in my pack."

The silence that fell afterwards was uncomfortable. Oreius cleared his throat. "Perhaps we might train on the beach as well."

She shook her head. "I can't." Oreius raised an eyebrow but she did not notice. Perhaps there was a reason Ptah reported she had only been down to the beach once (the sole time he had watched her from afar). He considered pressing for the reason. Alambiel looked up at him then and there was a touch of shyness in her eyes. "We are friends, yes?"

He nodded, hope rising that she would ask how close they were. This time he would answer truthfully that they were closer than friends. Aslan, please. Alambiel looked down, a faint smile suddenly playing across her lips. "Your letters aren't very friendly. It's always 'you've missed training' and 'don't break my armory' and 'stop playing pranks.'"

Oreius chuckled. "I had your letters returned so you may read them as well and they should more than prove you were intentionally attempting to provoke me."

Alambiel's soft laugh was a welcome sound. "Yes, I was a crazy pest with an apparent death wish. I have read the books, General. I know Centaurs are unaccustomed to such flippancy as appeared in my letters."

General. Not Oreius, not Kentauri, and certainly not a chara. Oreius froze as the hope that had bloomed was viciously ripped apart. Alambiel was studying him. "Did I say something wrong? General Oreius?" Her brow crinkled and the strain that had momentarily been absent from her features was back as she put more space between them. "I'm sorry."

He raised his hand and took care not to let any of his own turmoil to enter his voice. "No, it is not your fault. You are currently at a disadvantage and it is unfair for anyone to expect you to immediately know the background that others remember." The distress in her eyes was too much to bear. He nearly stepped toward her, wanting to comfort her, to take her by the hand and show her the memorabilia that remained from her protection of the High King (aside from the white streaks in her hair), show her the tangible proof that she was a protector and not the monster she feared. But, he was certain now that would be too much for her, especially if he were the one to do it. He would seek Tuulea and Alithia's counsel on the matter. Until then… Oreius bowed slightly. "I fear there are other duties I must attend to now. May I escort you to the library perhaps?"

Alambiel shook her head. "I'm to join Alithia in the healers' wing."

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It was late when Oreius returned from the bluff, searching the stars for some sign of hope. The stars gave none. Instead, they spoke of perseverance and waiting on Aslan. He had hoped, wanted, and needed something more concrete. Something that bespoke of their love enduring as more than a memory, his memory alone.

There had to be something of his Alambiel left, some little piece of her yet remained in her instincts and habits breaking through but it wasn't enough. She did not recall the most important pieces. He had once thought nothing could be more difficult than waiting for the right time to tell Alambiel how his feelings for her had changed. This was more difficult by far.

Oreius finally took refuge on one of the smaller balconies overlooking the Eastern Sea. Leaning his forearms against the smooth marble railing, he bowed his head with a sigh. It wasn't working…none of it was working. It was almost physical, the ache in his heart. It haunted him like a wound left untended. But, there was naught he could do to soothe it. The lack of recognition in her eyes was a blow that would ache for the rest of his life. How could this be Aslan's will? He didn't know…

A hoof scuffed against the marble floor and he looked over his shoulder to meet Stonebrook's empathetic gaze. He did not want empathy. Alithia and Ardon and Tuulea all presented more than enough every time he asked after Alambiel's well-being. He turned back to look out over the dark sea as the Centaur elder joined him, also leaning his forearms against the railing. "Tuulea has informed me that Alambiel continues to remain adrift from her memories…and that she was seen coming from the gardens in your company."

Oreius did not answer as he clasped his hands together. Stonebrook shifted his hooves. "How are you, Oreius?"

"I do not know." Oreius shook his head, suddenly feeling as though he were centuries old. "I do not know how I am. I still hope that she will remember everything, including what we have…had together. But, it is difficult. When I look into her eyes, I do not see my Alambiel looking back." He looked down at the dark waves crashing against the shore far below and a bitter laugh finally escaped. "I planned to propose to her when she returned from the Seven Isles. I had intended to do so today…we have or had been courting for a year. It- It seemed like our moment, our time for an engagement and then marriage was now. That we could finally have our moment to taste a fuller joy and happiness, something neither of us ever expected for ourselves was suddenly before us and all we needed to do was reach out and it would be ours as soon as we chose to do so." He shook his head again. "When we spoke earlier today I thought that she, that my Alambiel might have returned, but she did not. And it is-" He cut himself off. He could not yet bring himself to speak aloud the fear that he had lost his beloved forever.

Stonebrook set a hand on his shoulder. "Have you told her that-"

"No!" Oreius pushed off the railing. He ran his hand over his face then sighed. "I cannot tell her. She is wary and easily hurt. Her vulnerabilities are laid bare and without the defenses she has long used to shield them. Alambiel must already attempt to find her balance between being the Princess Royal and learning that she is also a soldier, a knight of Narnia…telling her that we were courting would only add to the burden. And you did not hear her pleading with Tuulea…her fear of walking by a husband. I cannot put her through any more pain and confusion that can be avoided. I cannot confuse her further, not when she does not even remember that she has never called me 'General' without either being very angry or forced to do so."

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She sat in a wheeled chair, watching the children who played or sat with their parents and even siblings on the lawn. The Professor was chewing on the stem of his pipe again. "Patience is a virtue, my dear."

She cast him a skeptical look. "Patience doesn't bring you a family, especially if you're one of the unwanted."

"There is One who will always want you, my dear Katerina Alambiel. He is the Father to the fatherless. He knows who named you 'Alambiel' and why you were in the forest that day. He led good men to find you and He led you to the orphanage."

"And He let the Monster hurt me and kill Nekane and Maddie. Why would He do that?"

"Because free will means that He will not always force evil to stop. Because somehow what that man meant for evil, He will turn it to good. It may take a very long time for us to see how your experience can be turned to good but one day you will see it." The Professor tapped the lion and cross pendants dangling from her necklace. "Remember that, lass. Moreover, remember that your experience helped to capture that man before he could harm other girls. That was the first good thing to come of it all."

She sighed. It wasn't what she wanted to hear exactly. She glanced again at the Professor and smiled slightly. "You just wanted to come out here so you could smoke your pipe without Nurse Hyde fussing at you again."

He laughed. Then his laughter blurred into her own. A moment later, she closed her eyes as calloused fingers lightly skimmed her jaw and chin. Then warm breath not her own tickled her lips. "You are my heart, do not forget."

Her own voice echoed in her ears, a contented whisper. "Never, I promise." She opened her eyes, wanting, no, needing to see him. The one who laid claim to her heart.

She was lying on her side. A spot on her neck just below her jaw throbbed, probably from that dart. Her head was pounding where the man had slammed her head against the floor and splintered wood was digging into her skin. She tried to push herself up but was brought up short with the clink of metal chains. No. The floor rocked and she realized she was on a ship. Wonderful. With her track record with Murphy and his blasted Law, she was probably on her way to the slave market in Tashbaan. She hoped not…she had too much of a reputation among the Calormene diplomats and traders for that to be a good thing.

The door opened and the man from before stomped in. She smirked when she realized he was still limping slightly. "Demon witch!"

"Insults from an unknown man mean little to me."

He swore most colorfully then kicked her in the head…

A low laugh filled the cave, coming out of the darkness. "Ah, Ishara Reborn. I have waited for this moment."

She gasped, trying to breathe past the pain of her definitely cracked rib. How long had he stood there watching as his men beat her? She didn't know and she didn't care. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I can." He stepped into the ring of torchlight and circled her then stopped behind her and grabbed her throat, squeezing. "Because I want to savor every scream that comes from your pretty mouth before I kill you and leave your dead body for your lover to find."

The pain was agonizing. She tried not to scream, to focus on their faces, especially on his face as the man cut into her back, laughing cruelly at every whimper and muffled cry that escaped as he opened her old scars. She had not thought anything could be worse than how the Monster had done it, but he did them one by one. The agony was unceasing…

Everything hurt. She couldn't even lift her head as he crouched in front of her chair. He forced her chin up, digging into her skin with bruising force. "Tell me where the tunnel is."

She used what little moisture was left in her mouth and spat in his face. Her ears rang as he backhanded her and she dimly felt fresh blood drip from her split lip and already broken nose. Then he barked an order. "Bring the stone."

She couldn't breathe. She gasped as the stone slab weighed down on her. Her ribs were protesting, cracking and threatening to puncture her lungs. She choked on a plea not to him, never to him, but to Him. Another face swam before her eyes as another rock was added to the slab. He would try to find her, she knew he would, but he wouldn't even have a trail to follow this time. She would go to him, instead.

He loomed over her again, his loathsome gaze made her feel more unclean than when he had stripped her down before his men in order to open her scars. He had done it on purpose, kept the additional threat of giving her to his men as a toy to be used then discarded alive, but he never allowed them to touch her. Even he hadn't touched her that way. A small mercy. "Tell me the protocols for getting close to the Four."

She still hadn't recovered from the slab and even summoning enough breath for a single word was a challenge. "No."

He swore and then slammed something heavy against her leg. She screamed as it broke... He nodded to his man and her other hand was tied to the table. He had already broken each finger during the last interrogation. He nodded to his goon and the war hammer was raised high. She screamed as her hand was crushed. She screamed over and over again.

"Alambiel! Alambiel! Wake! You are safe!" A shape loomed over her. She screamed louder and scrambled backwards, barely noticing when she fell off the bed. She raised one arm in front of her as she scrambled back at his approach until she hit the wall and could retreat no further.

She couldn't breathe normally. All that escaped from her was either a whimper or a scream. He tried to come toward her again, but she could only recoil as his shape shifted into something far more terrifying, faces she couldn't even put names to but that did naught to lessen the terror as the images of her dream pressed in on her. She heard the rumbling voice, but terror ripped away the meaning and transformed the words into nonsense. "No! No, go away! I don't know you! Get away from me! Get away!"

The voice answered and some small part of her that wasn't completely buried by the pain and the terror recognized the heartbroken whisper. "Oh, Alambiel." But the pain in her head flared when she tried to chase down the part of her that knew something and she could only shake her head as she raised her arms to shield her face and pressed back against the wall. A strange, desperate tone entered the rumbling voice. "Help her, please."

Then a Voice, golden, rich, and almost painfully pure, purred, "Peace."

A shuddering sob broke free as she lowered her arms and held them out pleadingly. "Please." She wasn't sure she even knew what peace was, but every fiber of her being cried out for that tantalizing promise. She met golden eyes and whispered a name. The thought came to her that it was the wrong name. No, not the wrong Name. It was the right Name, but this was the wrong world for that Name. The pain and the terror were nearly overwhelming, threatening to pull her down so deep that she would never be found again. Peace came the command once more. Golden eyes met hers, providing an anchor and she grasped at it. Her fingers curled in the soft golden mane and she held on as a whisper slipped free, "Aslan." The right Name for this world.

The golden Voice washed over her again. "Peace." She did not have the strength to meet His eyes again. All she could do was cling to His mane and bury her face in its softness as she trembled. Terror and pain receded, leaving her feeling only the comforting weight of His presence. She may not remember who she was or why she was there, but she knew that He would not forsake her in this darkness. She clung to Him until peace joined with exhaustion to send her deep into the most restful slumber she'd experienced since waking to a disorienting place full of unknowns and unanswered questions.

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Oreius watched as Alambiel finally slept. Her tearstained face was still mostly turned into Aslan's mane as she lay between His paws. Raising his gaze, he met the Great Lion's golden eyes for a moment then bowed his head. "Thank you."

"Come and move Alambiel to the bed, Oreius. She will not venture into the nightmares and memories that plague her dreams again tonight."

Obeying his Lord, Oreius carefully lifted Alambiel's limp form into his arms. Laying her in the bed, he pulled the bedcovers back over her. "Will You heal her?"

"I will stay with her through the night."

Oreius did not press Him for a firmer answer. Perhaps tomorrow, he would learn more. He wanted to press a kiss to Alambiel's brow but he resisted. It would only make it that much more difficult should she not remember him still. Instead, he bowed to Aslan and left his heart in the Great Lion's unwavering care.

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A/N: Please Read and Review!