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 Nineteen: Audience
7 Frostmoon 1008
Two days, that was all they had been able to delay before Count Achan's family insisted upon arranging a formal hearing. Susan folded her hands in her lap as she maintained a calm demeanor. The youngest of the cousins was speaking now, yet his dark eyes continued to flick to where Thalia once again stood behind Peter's throne. "Your Majesties, with respect we must protest your ruling in the matter of our cousin's death. You would have us attest to all the nations that the late Count Achan's demise was caused by some tragic accident. But, we know that you know this is untrue."
The rest of the petitioners whispered over the gall of the family to question the justness of a ruling, even if they were mourning a loss. Susan took care not to let her own expression slip as she exchanged a glance with Lucy. A quick peek to her right showed that Thalia had just barely tightened her grip on Peter's shoulder while both of Susan's brothers remained impassive. Edmund accepted the challenge with only the slightest hardening of his gaze. It was always a warning sign whether during family bickering or in the midst of a diplomatic difficulty.
"Are you displeased with a specific portion of the recorded session of the council, Lord Ammon? Or is there a more delicate matter you wish to address?"
Lord Ammon gave no indication that he heard the subtle warning in Edmund's voice. In fact, he sneered at them although he could not be more than five years older than Peter's one and twenty. Susan glanced at Edmund's Wolves but, for once, they were managing to behave themselves, no doubt helped in no small part by the presence of Bast and Babur as well as Vardan Windwolf. Lord Ammon's unctuous tone was at odds with his sneering face. "I would have spared the Queens and their ladies' delicate sensibilities, but since you insist, I will speak plainly. The Princess Royal's reputation as a liar and a woman who fears not to ply her…feminine wiles and charms in order to get what she wants is well-known. Considering she's taken a Centaur as a lover, the one who is conveniently the general, only makes it easier for her to escape true justice."
A low murmur of disapproval filled the hall as the gathered Narnians glared at this man who so freely disparaged Kat. Susan narrowed her eyes at the man. "Have you ever encountered the Princess Royal, by any chance?"
He had not been expecting her to speak, so focused had he been on Edmund. His start was only partially due to her question. His gaze when he looked at her was nearly as oily as his voice. "Once, Your Majesty. But, it was enough to know her character and how her eyes would tempt men near though it seemed only so she might delight in spurning them."
"She spurned your attempt to proposition her, didn't she?" Lucy's voice was steady as she too watched Lord Ammon through narrowed eyes.
Susan caught a glimpse of something in his dark eyes before it was shuttered away behind a false condescending smile. "Your majesties are yet girls, too sheltered to know how that one plays the harlot."
Susan frowned. "You seem to have no issue in 'disabusing' Us of such a naivety if We and Our Royal Sister in fact possessed it. Honeyed poison is all We hear falling from your lips. It seems to Us that you were, indeed, rejected by the Princess Royal."
"Recently," Lucy chimed.
"In fact, it seems to Us that your purpose in speaking such slander against one so dear to Us is nothing more than a petty attempt to repay her the humiliation you believed yourself to have suffered when she rejected you."
Lord Ammon's face turned red and his hands clenched into fists. "You know nothing! That w-"
"Ammon!" The only woman present among the Lone Islanders stepped forward. Her face bore faint lines about her mouth and the corners of her eyes and her black hair was shot through with threads of silver. Of them all, she alone wore all black while her nephews only opted to wear a black ribbon tied about their upper arms. Yet, she held her head high as she stepped up beside Lord Ammon, ignoring his scornful look. "Your Majesties, I humbly pray you ignore my nephew's foolish words. He is yet hotheaded and does not mind his tongue as well as he should." Her eyes glimmered with the sheen of unspent tears and the slightest crack entered her voice. "My son is dead. It is my right to ask for a formal trial for the one who murdered him."
Susan's heart went out to the woman. Even Edmund softened his stance ever so slightly. "I fear, my Lady-"
"Jezreel."
He nodded. "Lady Jezreel. Narnian laws also provide protection for those suffering from battle shock. We, and Our counselors, deliberated over the matter most strenuously. Our conclusion that this was a tragic accident directly linked to battle shock stands, as such We cannot and will not hold a formal trial."
Lady Jezreel trembled as though she might collapse as she finally lowered her head. Lord Ammon leapt at the opportunity to speak. "Then you are biased! No doubt that harlot has slept with most of this so-called council and-"
"Clearly you do not hold marriage vows nor personal honor in high regard, Lord Ammon." Susan pursed her lips as she briefly thought that it was well Oreius was preoccupied with a meeting with several of his captains and lieutenants to discuss the latest report on the northern Giants' activities. The General never would have permitted such talk without reacting…strongly. "However, as Our session record attests, We followed the laws and statutes set down by Aslan. Your continued and persistent attacks on the Princess Royal are both disgraceful and uncouth."
"If you truly cared about your cousin or your aunt, then you would not be trying so hard to make a boor of yourself," Lucy added.
Susan nodded. "Or We would at least expect you to attempt to better control your boorishness if it comes to you naturally. Instead, We find you are most aggravating, insulting, disgraceful, uncouth, and boorish with a nigh beleaguering purposefulness. Do you hope to provoke a reaction from Us? Or, mayhap, it is the Princess Royal whom you hope to antagonize and humiliate into reacting so We might have no choice but to deal harshly with her?"
Lord Ammon's left eyelid twitched. There was a barely detectable thread of amusement in Peter's voice as he spoke, "Our Sisters seem to have pierced the heart of this matter truly." He sobered as he turned to the late Count's mother. "We grieve with your family, Lady Jezreel, but justice has been served to both parties."
Edmund nodded. "Had there been a willful intent to harm or kill, even the Princess Royal would not be exempt from justice. She would have stood trial for murder. But, this is not a case of murder. It is tragic and no doubt your family will long feel the scar of Achan's absence, but it was not murder. It was an error wrought in the throes of battle shock. Many who see combat experience it to varying degrees and the laws protect them for those circumstances when they are not truly in control."
Lucy leaned forward slightly. "She must live with the memory of her realization that she was not on the battlefield as she believed. Some would say that in itself is punishment enough."
Lady Jezreel nodded. "It seems it must be so, Your Majesty."
"You and yours are welcome to stay for as long as you need before returning to the Lone Islands," Susan said with a gentle smile, knowing sailing was probably the last thing this grieving mother needed, especially if doing so trapped her with her boorish nephew.
With a flare of black velvet skirts, the lady swept a deep curtsey (forcing her nephews to all bow). "We accept your gracious offer, Queen Susan. We thank you for hearing us out…though it did not have the outcome I had hoped." Then with her head held high once again, she took the arm of her eldest nephew while Lord Ammon, along with his other two brothers, fell in just behind her as they followed Bernstein, one of the Bears, out of the audience chamber.
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The soft chatter of voices called to her. Alambiel padded down the hall past a rich tapestry depicting Nymphs dancing with Fauns and Satyrs in the fresh fallen snow while Dwarfs threw snowballs betwixt the dancers. The voices quieted now and a new voice filled the silence. There was a cadence that put her in mind of storytelling.
Slipping in the open doors, she paused at the sight of a number of the children living in Cair Paravel. But, there were a number of adults present as well. She stayed in the back of the room, close to the doors. Tall, pale, and clad in a leafy, green sleeveless dress, the Willow Dryad, Titania (Lucy had re-introduced them a few weeks ago), stood in the front of the room. Her focus was on the little ones as she spoke, "Our Lord Aslan is not bound by the same limitations as we are. How many of you know the story of the Stag's Fawn?"
The little ones shook their heads, small cries of denial coming from their mouths before they all leaned forward, practically humming in their eagerness for a new story. Titania brushed a lock of curly brown hair out of her eyes then smiled. "Then it seems I must share this story with you. Now, in the days of King Frank the Fourth, there was a proud and magnificent Stag by the name of Epher. He was the leader of his herd and blessed with a comely Doe as his mate and a young Fawn. They roamed the Lantern Waste with nary a care. There came a time when Epher's Fawn wandered away from her parents' watchful eyes as she played with some of her friends. A dumb wolf saw the Fawns and attacked them. Nevertheless, only Epher's Fawn was caught as she had valiantly lured the beast away from her dearest friend. Epher heard the Fawns' cries and, together with his fellow Stags, he sought the young ones out. Epher struck down the wolf before it could kill his little Fawn; however, she was sorely wounded. The best healers came and helped to bind her wounds, yet they all warned Epher and his Doe that their little Fawn was not going to linger long before she went to Aslan's Country. The thought of losing his Fawn was nigh unbearable and Epher set out to find the One who could yet heal her. For five days and nights, the Stag journeyed from the Lantern Waste all the way to Cair Paravel for he heard that Aslan was there.
"When Epher reached Cair Paravel, he begged for an audience with Aslan. And when he saw him, he said, 'My Lord Aslan, I know You are able to do all things. You need only will it and it shall be done. Please, Lord Aslan, You have surely heard the prayers of my mate, my herd, and myself on my little Fawn's behalf. Will You not heal her?'
"Aslan knew what was in Epher's heart and He watched him closely. 'Do you believe I can speak and your little Fawn will be healed?'
"Epher bowed his antlered head. 'You are Aslan. If You speak it, it shall be so. This I believe with all my heart.'
"Aslan was pleased with his answer and He gave Epher a Lion's kiss. 'Go then and when you return to your herd, you shall find your little Fawn has been healed as of the moment of this conversation. For your faith is great, My son.'
"And Epher trusted Aslan so he went away from Cair Paravel. When he returned to his herd, it was his little Fawn who gamboled out to meet her father first. With great rejoicing, the herd celebrated the healing of the Stag's Fawn."
Titania scanned her audience then she shifted into another story. "This was neither the first nor the last time Aslan healed one of His children. Two hundred years after the time of Epher and his Fawn, a great crowd gathered at the Stone Table for one of the Centaur prophets sent word throughout the land that Aslan was coming to Narnia again. Among the crowd waiting to hear and see Aslan, was a Daughter of Eve. She came from Archenland and was very ill with a wasting sickness. Indeed, the healers had cautioned her against traveling but she knew she had to see Aslan. When she reached the Stone Table, though, she was overcome with a sense of unworthiness.
"The Daughter of Eve said to herself, 'Who am I to approach One so great as Aslan? I have not always lived as I should but I am so weary of this deep pain. I know if I but touch His mane just in passing, He shall heal me of this wasting sickness.'
"And so she waited all through the day, listening as Aslan spoke to the crowd. Until at last He went down from the Stone Table and the crowd parted for Him. Many clamored to speak to the Great Lion before He left Narnia once more, but the Daughter of Eve merely ducked her head. And, as Aslan passed where she sat midway down the hill, she reached out her hand and her fingers brushed against His mane.
"Aslan stopped and turned to her. 'Daughter, your faith has healed you. Rise up and go home.' The Daughter of Eve was indeed healed of the wasting sickness from that moment. She returned to her small town in Archenland and told her family, her friends, and all her neighbors of what Aslan had done for her and what He spoke of at the Stone Table that day."
Something about the stories struck a familiar cord. Alambiel closed her eyes for a moment, trying to chase down the familiarity…the echo. No, not quite an echo, similar but different to what she had just listened to and- Opening her eyes, Alambiel shook her head slightly. The tendrils still slipped away with a frustrating ease.
She left the story weaver to her task and wandered down the hall until she came to an abrupt stop. She turned back to Ptah. "Where is Aslan?"
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Aslan was on the beach. All you have to do is go out the gates and down the path to see Him. So why don't you? Alambiel chewed on her bottom lip as she sat on the low stone bench nearest to the gates. People, human and Narnian, passed through the gates with ease. Families, traders, merchants, and diplomats all went about their business without hesitating before leaving the walls of Cair Paravel. Why could she not bring herself to do so?
Cruel hands dragged her back into the cave. They tossed her in front of a pair of dirty and bloodstained boots. It was her blood staining them. One man knelt on her back, his knee digging in between her shoulder blades and straining her bruised and cracked ribs. Cold and mocking the voice echoed slightly. "Did you think you could escape, Ishara Reborn? Did you think you could simply run away? I had thought you more intelligent than that. It appears I was wrong. How disappointing."
He dropped the tail end of the whip before her face for a moment before barking a command. His men strung her up by her wrists and then the sharp kiss of the whip wrapped around her legs, slicing through her leggings. "You cannot run away. The moment you step outside the walls of whatever fortress you manage to find, my men will take you and bring you back here. You will beg for death when they do so for he will no longer be able to hold us to the requirement that you remain untouched."
Alambiel shuddered as the memory shattered into pieces. Someone was waiting for her to leave the safety of the walls. But, she sensed there was Someone else watching and waiting for her to choose. Could she make herself vulnerable? Knowing that both danger and just a hint of the truth she so desperately needed was lying beyond the walls? "…pledge to be your shield…"
That voice. Alambiel knew she knew the voice, but still her mind refused to divulge who it was. She looked at the pristine white walls again. They were nothing more than a temporary shield. Those who waited on the outside would come within soon enough and there would be no escape then. Nor would she know who was foe and who was not if she never took the first step.
Gathering her courage, she slowly rose from the bench. Ptah followed but it was of little comfort in that moment. She didn't pause as she approached the open gates, if she did, she would never set foot outside her self-imposed prison. She was vaguely aware of how several of the soldiers turned to watch her with no small interest, but they did not attempt to stop her.
The back of her neck prickled with sense of being watched, but she forced herself to keep going. The journey down to the beach was an agony that seemed to take hours. Until she met golden eyes… Dropping to her knees before Him, Alambiel bowed her head. She could not even find the words to explain the urge she had felt to find Him, to seek His presence. But, it did not matter as the sweet perfume of His mane surrounded her and the feeling of peace filled her once more.
Reaching out, she touched the wave-dampened, dark golden paws before her. "Why?"
"Because you are Mine."
Alambiel gasped as the statement's truth struck her. She was His, against all odds, she was His. Evil pursued her and tormented her because she was His. And, He brought peace to her wounded spirit because she was His.
His rumbling purr filled her with so many emotions she could not begin to name them all. "Rise, My daughter. Walk with Me, dear one."
Rising, she buried her hand in His mane. They walked down the beach and she felt a sense of rightness assert itself. There was no place better than walking beside the Great Lion. "Why will you not restore my memory, Aslan? You are capable of healing the mortally wounded and raising the dead, You needn't even speak a word and You could restore my memories to their proper places."
"Things never happen the same way twice, dear one."
Alambiel chewed on her bottom lip again. She had slept peacefully, dreamlessly since Aslan had arrived. "The dreams are going to come back."
"Yes," Aslan said gently, "your dreams and the memories they contain shall return. But, you shall find they hold less terror for you now." She hesitated, unsure of whether she wanted to ask the question that had sprung to mind. Aslan stopped and raised His golden head, testing the breeze. "Look out to the sea, Alambiel."
The sea nearest to the shore was yet silver. However, to the east was a long dark bank of clouds and already the sea was changing from silver to white-capped slate grey. There were flashes of light illuminating the clouds from within, giving them a slight greenish hue. A storm was coming. Alambiel turned to Aslan. "Will it reach Narnia this time?"
"No. But, when it is the proper time, it shall rain over Narnia again."
Alambiel frowned. "Is that some sort of metaphor for me and my memories?"
Aslan chuckled. "In time you will learn that answer, dear one."
"That wasn't nearly as helpful as I had hoped." Alambiel sighed. Then, as she looked out over the sea and the distant storm, she couldn't help humming then singing softly. "Haul away, haul away. Quick now, quick now. Chase the storm and you shall see. Chase the storm and yours 'twill be. All the treasures veiled from sight, yours 'twill be…"
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A/N: Please Read and Review! Okay, so more of the pieces are falling into place. The tales of Aslan's miracles are based on miracles from the Bible, a nice virtual brownie and a oneshot of your choice to anyone who correctly guesses them. :) The song lyrics at the end...I made them up. Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.