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 Thirty-Five: Hearthside
A soft whimper echoed in the confines of the cave. Oreius stirred up the dying embers, coaxing the fire back to life and hoping it would help to heat the small cave. Alambiel was shifting restlessly, her eyes moving behind their lids and her cheeks still flushed with fever even though her lips were nearly bloodless. Pneumonia perhaps. She whimpered again and her brow furrowed as she shifted, almost as though she were attempting to toss off the blanket and his cloak.
"Shh, Alambiel, shh. You're safe. It is all right, you are safe." He wasn't certain if she realized he was there and speaking to her but her movements slowed. Oreius quickly checked the wrapped stone at her feet. It was cold. He should have thought to replace it earlier when the wind first started to pick up outside. Removing the stone, he unwrapped it and set it to heat by the fire again. Alambiel mumbled something in her sleep then a soft cry escaped her.
Oreius turned back in time to see a tear dampen her lashes and roll down her cheek. "No. Shh, Alambiel, shh, do not cry." He pet her hair but she only wept more. What dream or memory plagued her so? There was no help for it. He gathered Alambiel, blankets and all, into his arms then gently knelt so she was as close to the fire as he could manage. He should have simply laid her down and then returned to standing watch, but his heart refused such a plan.
Alambiel trembled from both cold and dream. Oreius tightened his hold around her and pressed her head against his chest (he had already removed his own sodden tunic and armor) then brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek. "Shh, Chéadsearc, do not fear. I have you now. He cannot hurt you anymore. I promise, Alambiel, I promise he will never harm you again." It was only after Alambiel seemed to calm and slip into more peaceful dreams that Oreius realized he had slipped back into the habit of calling her Chéadsearc. She would always be so, always be his Sweetheart, but he reminded himself that he could not slip again...especially when Alambiel was awake.
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"There's nothing for it, Your Majesty. He's good as dead, like as not. A horrible way to go too. What with infections of the nose, foot, and eye."
Edmund grit his teeth as the Marsh-Wiggle healer poked at Romulus' wound. The Wolf pup looked absolutely terrified and then Remus howled in grief. Edmund glared at the Marsh-Wiggle and snapped, "Your bedside manner is rather atrocious, Master Mumpwort! Remus, hush, it's all right. Romulus will be fine." He looked over at Charissa and the Nymph rolled her eyes. That's what he'd thought. Edmund turned back to his Wolves and forced a bright tone, "Don't worry, a couple of weeks and you'll be good as new, Romulus."
"Oh yes, yes unless of course the worms set in. Then he'll be eaten from the inside out, like as not, and his fur will fall out then his tail will fall off."
"My tail?" Romulus' yellow eyes somehow grew wider as he struggled to sit up. Charissa hurried forward to hold Romulus down.
The Nymph's smile at Mumpwort was nearly as sharp as her arrows. "Thank you for your input, Master Mumpwort. I should like to finish tending to my patient now, if you please."
The Marsh-Wiggle nodded then rubbed his webbed hands together. "Well, I suppose I should tend to the High King. If he hasn't already perished of broken ribs or boils or his neck swelling to an unusual and unbearable size due to parasitic algae."
Edmund stayed just long enough to pet Romulus' head. "Don't worry, Charissa will take good care of you." Then he hurried after that blasted Marsh-Wiggle. Who knew what he would tell Peter?
He pressed a hand against his burning ribs as he ducked inside Mumpwort's wigwam (where the Marsh-Wiggle had insisted in his very pessimistic way that Peter be put). Mumpwort was puttering about and already talking. "As I said, Your Majesty. That twisted knee is just the beginning! Why it'll lead to your leg falling off, like as not, and then you'll die very slowly. Years of misery and pain in your future. And your concussion, now that will lead to blindness. Blindness and then you'll lose all sense of taste and smell." He turned to Edmund and his long, sallow face seemed to grow longer. "And then I shall be executed, like as not, for failing to cure the High King. Unless of course the flood somehow finds us and washes over us, drowning the lot of us. Flash floods do that, you know."
Edmund scowled. "Has this hill ever been flooded before?"
"No, but that's not to say it won't happen, Majesty. Flash floods are unpredictable like that."
Edmund groaned while Peter, for some reason, just looked amused. Mumpwort looked over at him. "Have you taken hurt as well?"
Peter's amusement faded. "I thought you let the healers look you over, Ed."
"I'm fine." He did not want that Marsh-Wiggle predicting something absurd like his toes falling off. "Really, I am."
"Oh no, brother mine," Peter shook his head, frowning but then Edmund got a glimpse of amusement in his brother's eyes as he continued, "If you haven't seen a healer already, you might as well avail yourself of Master Mumpwort's expertise."
Before Edmund could escape, the Marsh-Wiggle healer already had him sitting on a stool. He shot Peter a dirty look then reluctantly shrugged out of his armor and tunic. He hissed as his ribs protested. Mumpwort poked at his bruised side. "Oh yes, this is terrible. Your arm will fall off, like as not." Edmund made a face at Peter as soon as the healer went over to a shelf full of vials. Mumpwort brought over a squat brown vial and opened it. Edmund's nose twitched at the noxious smell but he didn't dare let himself sneeze or cough in this Marsh-Wiggle's presence. Mumpwort sighed then gloomily observed, "This might help with the bruising but it's just as likely to eat through your skin clear down to the liver. Never used it on Sons of Adam before now. If you start to tingle, warn us because you might be about to burst into flames. Or you could not warn me and burn me down with the wigwam as well for failing to cure you. Unless this storm turns into a blizzard and freezes us all and then we'll shatter into little bits and pieces. Food for the eels. Actually, we might make the eels sick and that could start an entire new plague."
Edmund groaned. Mumpwort continued to smear the noxious paste on his side. "See, King Peter? It's already starting."
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5 Yule 1008
Oreius had held Alambiel in his arms until the worst of the storm eased. It felt colder now, though. He redressed in his tunic and armor then wrapped his cloak and the blankets more tightly around Alambiel before scooping her up in his arms again. Leaving the cave, he followed the path higher until he could look out over the marshes. It would take time for the floodwater to dissipate, time Alambiel did not have. Oreius galloped toward the closest high ground across the marshes as the first fat flakes of snow began to fall from the grey sky above.
Three hours had passed before a Gryphon cried a greeting. Oreius peered up through the steadily falling snow then altered his course to follow the scout. Alambiel hadn't stirred once as he carried her and he feared the exposure to the elements would only worsen her condition. The light of the campfires were a welcome sight. Still, he ignored the surprised looks on the sentries' face when he carried Alambiel past them. The Elm Dryad, Charissa, quickly waved him into a tent. Carrying Alambiel to a curtained off section of the tent, Oreius had barely laid her in the hammock when his colts hurried in (well, his dark colt hurried while the High King limped at a more measured pace) followed by a Marsh-Wiggle.
The Marsh-Wiggle peered at Alambiel. "Oh dear, she's as good as dead, Your Majesties. There's no help for it. Why I expect we'll see her hands and feet fall off, like as not. And then she'll shrivel away like a salted eel. Once she's all brittle, why someone will probably touch her with just one finger and she'll turn into dust, like as not."
Charrissa glared at the Marsh-Wiggle. "You are not helping, Mumpwort. Get out."
Oreius clamped one hand down on the Marsh-Wiggle's neck and forced him out of the tent with his colts following behind. They would be looking for explanations. Oreius released the Marsh-Wiggle then turned to the Kings. "Mordad is dead."
The High King nodded. "Good. But, why is Kat here?"
"It is a long story, Your Majesties."
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8 Yule 1008
Peter smiled broadly as the walls of Cair Paravel, lightly dusted in the first snow of the year and glistening in the moonlight, came closer and closer. They had set a slower pace returning due to their wounded, but now they were finally home. In spite of the late hour, Cair Paravel turned out to greet their returning party as families sought their loved ones and healers hurried to help bring the wounded in. Peter caught a glimpse of Kat being carried on her litter with Edmund's Wolves snuggled on either side of her (they had volunteered to guard her) toward Tuulea. Edmund clambered out of Philip's saddle acting as though his ribs were no longer troubling him (in spite of Mumpwort's dire predictions).
Swinging down from Frost's back, Peter winced as his left knee threatened to buckle. Slipping on a patch of ice that morn had certainly set back his own progress compared to his brother. "Peter! Edmund!"
He looked up with a smile as Lucy raced down the stairs, sturdy boots flashing from beneath her nightgown and robe. Peter caught her in a hug then bussed a kiss against the top of her head. "Where are Thalia and Susan?"
"They're coming. Look!" Lucy bounced over to Edmund and caught him in a hug, only to step back a moment later. "Oh Edmund, what did you do to yourself this time?" Susan reached them just then, pressing a kiss of greeting against Peter's cheek then swooping down on Edmund to join in Lucy's fussing over him.
Peter chuckled then he found himself with his arms full as Thalia slammed into him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Peter!" He stumbled, his knee protesting, and his wife's soft warmth immediately slipped away as her hands shifted to his arms, trying to steady him. Concern was etched into her light green eyes as she looked up at him. "You are injured."
He smiled. "It's nothing, Flower. Come on, let's go inside before you three freeze." Working together, he and Edmund managed to usher them all inside and up to the Royal Wing. Peter smiled and bid his siblings goodnight, promising to give the girls full explanations in the morn. Then he led Thalia into their quarters. He sighed as he sank into a chair. "I'm glad it's over."
Thalia touched his shoulder lightly, causing him to look up at her, and then she leaned down, giving him the sweetest of kisses. "Welcome home, my love."
She helped him out of his armor and tunic until he wore nothing more than his breeches and his boots. He stopped her before she could touch his stained boots. He didn't want her to sully her hands on them (especially since his valet was no doubt planning to burn them). Thalia merely kissed his forehead again. "I will see your bath is drawn."
The bath certainly went far in helping him wash away the last physical reminders of the battle. Still, he could not help the groan that escaped him as he eased into bed. Thalia rolled over to look at him, one slim hand resting on his shoulder. "Peter. Tell me how I can help."
He took her hand and pressed a fervent kiss against her knuckles. "You help me just by being here, Flower."
Thalia smiled and blushed. Then she shifted and tugged him to lie down with his head in her lap. "I think you need to relax, Husband. Let me help." Her fingers ran through his damp hair, gently massaging, as she told him about how Cair Paravel fared in his absence. Peter sighed and closed his eyes as his wife's gentle voice washed over him and lulled him closer to sleep, replacing the memories of battle and death with the sweet promises that made such fighting worth it.
Peter didn't stir until Thalia shifted away, leaving him to rest on a pillow. He opened his eyes then held out his hand to her. "I forgot to give you a proper greeting, Thalia. Allow me to remedy that mistake."
He grinned as she giggled then blushed when he tugged her down on his chest. Peter kissed her once then he kissed her again, deepening it as he did so. He trailed kisses down his wife's neck, tugging the neckline of her nightgown down in order to kiss her shoulder. "I love you, Thalia."
"And I love you, Peter."
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Edmund cracked his eyelids open and peered at the door, wondering what had woken him. He slid his hand underneath his pillow as casually as he could and gripped the hilt of his dagger. A too-loud whisper broke the silence, "Shh, you'll wake Alpha."
"You're the one who whimpered, Romulus. Why isn't he growling in his sleep?"
"Maybe he's not sleepy enough. We better make sure he doesn't wander off in his sleep."
Edmund fought the urge to roll his eyes as he released the dagger. The second morning after Peter assigned them to him, the Greyback brothers (well, it was Remus) had asked him if he was awake after he had forced himself to get up at the crack of stupid to go to training, he had snapped at them that he bloody well was not awake. Now, they were thoroughly convinced he walked in his sleep.
Still, he pretended not to be awake as first Romulus then Remus hopped up onto the bed. Romulus snuggled up against his right side, keeping pressure from being put on his stitches (Alithia said he was healing nicely...after she once again reassured Romulus that his tail was definitely not going to fall off), while Remus snuggled up on his left. The Wolves' breathing evened out in sleep very quickly and Edmund just smiled. Not that he would ever admit to anyone that he kind of missed the Wolf twins whenever they didn't stay with him.
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10 Yule 1008
Oreius didn't know why he was here again. But still he stood at the foot of Alambiel's bed, watching her sleep. Her breathing was still uneven and a cough rattled in her chest but she did look a little better than she had when they first reached Cair Paravel. "How is she, Tuulea?"
Tuulea placed a cool cloth against Alambiel's forehead. "She is still struggling against the pneumonia but she will probably be on her feet by Christmas. Alambiel keeps saying your name. Perhaps-"
"Don't. Don't give me any more false hope. It is done."
Tuulea turned, her eyes piercing him. "Then what Alithia says is true? You are truly going to forsake Alambiel and your love for her?"
"I will always love Alambiel." Oreius glanced at her still form for a moment then met the Black Elder Nymph's gaze. "But, for her sake I must let her go."
He thought Tuulea might argue with him, in fact, he had been certain she would and had already prepared his defense. But, she said nothing of the kind. Instead, she merely rose from the chair next to the bed. "I need to see about preparing some more chamomile tea for Alambiel. Stay with her until I return."
She left before he could protest. A hoarse mumble came from the bed, "Oreius."
Oreius turned but Alambiel was still asleep. She coughed, a harsh hacking sound that made him wince inside, then mumbled again, "Oreius. Please..."
He moved closer, opening his mouth to reassure her, to tell her that he was there, but then she moaned, "No. Oreius. No, don't touch me. Don't. Don't. Leave me alone... Please..."
Oreius bowed his head. If that was what she was telling him in her dreams... He couldn't stay. He moved away from the bed and forced himself not to respond whenever Alambiel mumbled his name in the midst of her fever dreams. Tuulea had only just set foot inside Alambiel's quarters when Oreius seized the opportunity to leave.
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17 Yule 1008
Alambiel sighed as Leeta brushed her hair. She supposed she should be happy that Tuulea had actually allowed her to sit on the bench in front of her dressing table. Of course, her head was pounding and she still coughed every time she turned around. "Are you sure he took the note?"
Leeta nodded as she started braiding her hair. "I handed it to him myself, My Lady. Perhaps General Oreius is merely waiting until Tuulea allows you to have visitors."
"Did he-" A fit of coughing racked her, stealing both words and breath away. Alambiel groaned then coughed a little more as she braced both hands against the dressing table.
Leeta tsked then gently cupped her elbows, urging her to stand. "Back to bed, Your Highness. You need more rest after your insane dash through rain and snow."
"Be fair. I only dashed through the rain. I wasn't even awake when it snowed. I wish you and Tuulea would understand that."
The Nymph laughed softly as she pulled the bedcovers up and tucked them around her shoulders. "We do. But, since you wouldn't have been out in the snow if you hadn't gone dashing out into the rain, both events are your fault. You're fortunate the General thought to put a warming stone at your feet otherwise you might have had frostbite to go with your bruises."
"Thank you so much for that explanation, Leeta." Alambiel wanted to ask about Oreius again, but her eyelids were so heavy and she was still so weary. Sleep won.
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20 Yule 1008
Oreius stared at another note from Alambiel. It was the eighth one since she had awakened a week ago. But, he did not open it. Like its predecessors, he forced himself to toss it into the fireplace. He would not read her words nor would he visit her (it helped that Tuulea had forbidden any more visitors after his last visit on the tenth). He wasn't strong enough to let her go if he continued to see her, to interact with her. He still hadn't emptied his desk drawer of everything relating to their courtship...he wasn't strong enough for that either.
No, he would have to remove the items completely after Christmas, after he returned from a very long inspection of the outposts. Tomorrow afternoon, he would leave Cair Paravel. He could not stay here, spend Christmas here with Alambiel so close but so painfully far away. His mind made up, Oreius pulled out his travel packs. As soon as he finished training with the Kings and one last meeting regarding the events surrounding Mordad, he would leave. Eight weeks should be enough time to numb his heart.
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A/N: Please Read and Review! Stubborn Centaur... Y'all liked Mumpwort though, didn't you? :D Stay tuned for the epilogue! Also, do you want it tonight or tomorrow? Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.