Peace demands the most heroic labor and the most difficult sacrifice. It demands greater heroism than war. It demands greater fidelity to the truth and a much more perfect purity of conscience. ~ Thomas Merton
Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia, be it book or movie. I only own Arielle and any deviation from the established plot.
When Winter holds its breath
and Spring begins anew
a Sacrificial death
upon the Table entombed
Last Time:
Edmund lowered his sword, his ten - year - old face aging before Arielle's eyes as he took in the state of the camp. "There will be war. A lot of good creatures are going to die, right?"
"Yes."
"There's a good chance we might lose." Brown met amber, but unlike other times, it was Arielle who found herself at the end of a piercing gaze. She didn't answer, unwilling to lie about something so important yet unable to utter the near hopeless truth. Edmund broke eye contact first, seeing and understanding the bitter resignation in the Queen's eyes. "Then I'd better get back to work." He'd be damned if someone died for him because he did something stupid.
Days passed, in which Arielle attempted to pound as much knowledge and training into the young Kings and Queens as she could - sometimes quite literally. Aslan had yet to appear or even send word, though more soldiers appeared with each passing day. Some had weapons, few possessed armor. Most didn't have either and Arielle saw the camp's stores dwindle faster than the dwarves could replenish them.
More and more of the Pevensies' time went to practicing rather than learning new skills. Usually they practiced with one another, but sometimes a faun or a dwarf would be willing to spar if one or more of the siblings couldn't.
The end of the week found Lucy at ease with her weapons, though her dislike of violence remained. Her stances smoothed, her attacks showed more confidence, and the frantic desperation had all bit disappeared from her blocks. Lucy discovered her natural speed gave her a distinct advantage in combat. Out of the four, Lucy had gone to bed with the least amount of bruises after Arielle's lesson in dodging the Queen's staff blows - a lesson Peter and Susan had objected to until Edmund backed his younger sister's furious rebuttal.
The young girl had also picked up a set of throwing daggers. After hours of practice, she could send them hurtling into the center of a target. Arielle knew that Lucy would most likely never be much of a fighter - the girl's disposition and her eagerness to learn as much as she could of healing prevented that - but her conscious rested easy knowing that Lucy would have the ability to defend herself if needed.
Edmund's skill as a dual bladesman had skyrocketed to the point he could give his elder brother a challenge on the battlefield. Indeed, the two tied each time they sparred. However, on horseback, Peter showed a natural talent. He rode a unicorn bareback while Edmund had to be matched with Phillip, a patient and reliable horse who knew how to handle inexperienced and uncomforted riders.
Peter's triumph did not last more than a few hours. Busy with the new soldiers and other preparations, the Queen had Edmund take her usual place as Peter's opponent upon the chess board. Any hopes of finally securing his first win since entering Narnia had vanished when Peter promptly lost every game to his ten - year - old brother. After that, Edmund joined Arielle, Peter, and Oreius in planning for the upcoming battle.
Not wanting to be left behind, Susan doggedly practiced her archery until she could out shoot all but the most experienced archers. Though she still practiced her swordsmanship skills, she did so with great reluctance. Instead, she focused on her speed and accuracy to be able to use her bow well into close quarter combat. She'd approached one of the dwarves and asked them to add blades to each end of her bow and added the new fighting style to her daily practice.
Arielle couldn't help the swell of pride she felt whenever she thought of their progress. But the pride nearly always preceded a wave of regret. The four of them were children, no matter how one looked at it. They should be at school, at home, with their family and friends. Peter and Edmund should be playing sports with their peers, entering in school competitions, spending time with their father. Susan should be socializing, learning from her mother to cook and look after her siblings. And Lucy... the little girl should only be concerned with what game she and her friends could come up with the next day, like normal eight year olds.
None of them should be learning to fight, to kill. They shouldn't have to leave their haven from one war to plunge into the middle of another and defend a home that they didn't consider to be theirs. Arielle only had a few months on Peter, granted, but she had also lived in Narnia through her late twenties. She had left her childhood behind a long time ago. They hadn't yet, and Arielle wished that for a way to let them stay as children even though she knew in her heart that no such solution existed.
She watched Susan dump her little brother on his rear, an arrow already notched and aimed at his throat. Edmund groaned, but yielded anyways. "Good job, both of you." Peter said. Susan hauled Edmund to his feet, smiling at each other. Edmund glanced around.
"Where's Lucy?"
Peter answered first. "She just finished a spar with Ainkirk. They went to eat lunch." The dwarf had wanted to assess his student's skills one last time before the inevitable battle came. Despite his gruff exterior, Arielle knew Ainkirk worried about the youngest Pevensie as much as she did, if not even more so.
Susan nodded, returning the arrow to her quiver. "Do you want to have a go?" She asked, her hand straying to her sword. But Peter was already shaking his head, looking straight at Arielle expectantly. He knew her skill with her staff and short swords went unrivaled by any in the camp, and that Arielle outclassed him by so far that Peter could never hope to match her battle, but he wanted to test himself. What better way than to spar with the best?
Arielle gave the boy a slight nod of acceptance, hefting her staff. Peter drew Rhindon and settled in a defensive stance, his eyes studying the far more experienced warrior. She settled her weight evenly, feet shoulder width apart with one placed further forward. Her hands held the staff in a strong yet relaxed grip, holding the five foot long weapon so she could defend or attack on a moment's notice. Her amber eyes studied Peter with a detailed scrutiny. Seconds passed as the two thirteen year olds watched each other.
Instinct alone made Peter swing Rhindon around in a side block. A resounding clang met his ears, but he just only had time to register the sound - a blur of steel came at his other side, giving Peter little time to think. He parried hurriedly, barely bringing up his blade to stop a third attack to his head.
On this continued, Arielle attacking swiftly and without preamble, and Peter doing his best to defend at the last second. Susan and Edmund watched with wide eyes, eventually unable to track either weapon as the two gained speed. Peter ducked another blow, and swung out at Arielle's legs, but she'd already positioned her staff to stop it. Her foot lashed out, and Peter leaped back.
She had to give Peter some credit. Most of her opponents couldn't keep up with her once she started to increase the speed of her attacks, and only Gariv had ever had the skill to counterattack in any deliberate sense.
Peter watched Arielle carefully, his senses on high alert after that short bout. Sweat ran down the sides of his face, and Peter took a moment to marvel how Arielle hadn't even lost her breath yet. He adjusted his grip slightly, and settled himself. If Arielle chose to finish the spar he had no doubt it would take very long, but he'd do his best to keep up as long as he could.
Arielle smiled, and lowered her staff. "Very good, Peter. That was the best I've seen from you yet." Taking their cue, Peter's knees buckled, and he sat down hard. Every muscle in his body ached from exertion, and Peter wouldn't be surprised in the least if he couldn't feel his arms come morning.
"Either of you two want to go a round?" Arielle inquired, a decidedly wicked gleam to her mischievous green eyes.
"I think I'll pass." Edmund hastily replied. "I'd like to live thanks." Susan rolled her eyes.
Arielle raised an arched eyebrow in wry amusement. "Don't be silly. Peter survived, didn't he?"
Said boy snorted. "Just, and now my body feels like pudding in a lot of pain." He retorted, flopping onto his back. Arielle chuckled. She could remember the first time she and Gariv had dueled like that. By the time she'd conceded defeat, their muscles hurt so bad that they couldn't lift their weapons for two days after.
He'd have been proud of them, Arielle thought as Edmund hauled his brother up and Susan fretted over him. Melancholy sent an ache through her heart. She missed her friends from her reign. Only Aslan remained. It was the hardest thing about her return to Narnia - knowing that all of her friends had long since passed, and that she'd have to eventually leave any friends she made this time.
Far better then, to keep them away. The soldiers wanted a leader. She didn't have to get attached, not when it would only hurt everyone in the end.
Peter glanced over at Arielle to catch the sad look that crossed her face briefly. Before he could open his mouth though, she'd turned away with a small dip of her head. He frowned, concerned.
Arielle's head snapped to the right, the sudden motion grabbing the attention of the three Pevensie's. Drifting faster than normal on the slight breeze, a stream of petals swirled around the Queen before taking the shape of a young woman. In the blink of an eye, Arielle's expression froze over. A moment later, the dryad dispersed in another wind, one that took her towards the camp.
"Arielle?" Susan asked. The older girl turned towards them with such a serious expression that could only spell disaster. And at Arielle's grim reply, Susan gasped and Peter felt his stomach drop. Edmund paled.
"Jadis is coming to speak with me."
Jadis arrived less than half an hour later, four cyclops bearing her on a litter. A minotaur and a black dwarf accompanied her, the latter crying the arrival of Narnia's Queen to the heavens.
Arielle stood at the front of the camp, watching with hard eyes as her long time enemy walked towards her. The Witch had not changed in the 600 years of Arielle's absence. Black eyes glittered with a cunning triumph, the beginning of a cold smirk poorly disguised on her face.
On the sidelines, Edmund looked between the two Queens. Jadis wore a long white dress that offset her flawless pale skin and black eyes. Her dark blonde hair remained pulled back in its gravity defying style, an intricate crown of ice nestled on top. The Witch seemed to radiate power, but it felt cold, as unnatural as the Queen's appearance of a beautiful young woman.
Whereas Arielle stood in a simple tunic and breeches that would not have looked out of place on a peasant. Strands of her long brown hair had fallen out of her braid, and she wore a simple circlet made of copper. While one could say that Arielle's looks were rather plain compared to the Witch, hers maintained a natural grace that Jadis lacked, and the girl held an aura of quiet power about her that would have distinguished her status as Queen no matter how Arielle appeared.
Jadis spared little more than a passing glance at the Pevensies, before fully smirking at Arielle. "It seems you have yet another traitor in your midst, Arielle." Edmund ground his teeth as the soldiers nearest to him glanced his way. Beside him, Peter's fists clenched.
Arielle's cool expression did not falter. "And yet, his offense was not against you either, Jadis."
"Have you forgotten the laws on which Narnia was built - "
Arielle took a step forward, eyes narrowing. "Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch! I know it as well as those who witnessed its creation." She all but growled. Edmund swallowed hard. If Jadis terrified him with her anger, Arielle's made him want to turn and run. The whole hearted conviction of her promise to him a week ago could not compare to the determination and fury he could feel from his mentor now.
Jadis remained unfazed by the younger Queen. "Then you'll remember well, that every traitor belongs to me." Lucy gasped quietly, and Susan grasped her younger brother's hand. "His blood is my property."
A ring of metal announced Peter's drawing of Rhindon. "Try and take him then!" The blonde snarled, stepping in front of Edmund. He didn't care how much power the Witch had, she'd die if she laid a hand on his little brother.
"Do you really think that mere force will deny me my right, little King?" Jadis laughed. Peter did not drop his stance, and he saw Lucy place a hand on her own sword as the minotaur hefted his axe, and Susan's hand drifted towards her quiver. "Arielle knows that unless I have blood as the law demands, all of Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water." The Witch called out to the camp. She pointed at Edmund. "That boy will die on the Stone Table, as is tradition."
Peter frantically looked at Arielle, desperately trying to keep his fear from showing. She glanced at him for the briefest of moments, a tumult of emotions passing through them, before addressing the muttering soldiers. "Enough." Her voice, calm and strong, swiftly brought silence once more. "Stay your weapons, all of you. I will speak to Jadis. Alone." Then Arielle turned, and the two Queens retreated into Arielle's tent.
Author's Note:
So, sorry about taking so long to update. I've been swamped with homework, and if i haven't been doing that, i've been trying to catch up on all the sleep I've missed. I won't ever abandon this story - actually, it'll probably be the first I complete - so even if it takes a while, I promise I will eventually update.
This one isn't as long as the third chapter, but it seemed like a good place to stop. This chapter took forever to write, and I probably rewrote it about five different times.
If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Comments and critiques are always welcome, but all I ask is that you be respectful about it. I got a nasty private message about the last chapter, and things like that make it hard and completely not fun to write.
Shout out to Lady Hannah again for her amazing support.
Thanks for reading,
~Lassie