Warning for violence: there are unpleasant events and unpleasant people in this chapter, and it's creepier than I meant it to be.


Rilian wakes in the dark. He can feel chains of cold metal circling his wrists, he can't hear a sound, and suddenly Rilian is back ten years ago, restrained in silver, in the dark, and she'll be coming, he'll never be free—

No.

Reality hits with a familiar shock, as if Puddleglum had once again spoken of the sun, of the Lion.

Ileana.

Rilian makes himself think. Draw in a breath. Remember. This is familiar too; Rilian fought the enchantment on his mind, during those years.* Remember the light. Remember the Lion. Remember the things worth fighting for.

And breathe.

He's kneeling, knees uncomfortable on hard stone, and his back propped against more rocks. They're mostly smooth—this is likely a cave, Rilian thinks. The chains around his wrists are cold, and pull his arms slightly up and out from him.

And he can smell the sea. That wakes his mind fully; this can hardly be his nightmare if there's that salt-smell. The underground sea had a different smell.

Rilian wraps the chains around his palms and pulls, clinking the metal; they're steady and strong, and they help him get to his feet.

There's a gasp in the dark. "Rilian?" He knows that voice.

"Ileana?" Before his mind catches up Rilian surges forward. His arms snap behind him, and his legs nearly collapse, numb from lack of circulation. He curses, quick and vicious, and backs up again. "Where are you?" he asks the dark.

"She's in the water, deadly one." This voice is smooth, cold, and even, sliding through the air with a threatening grace. There's the sound of tinder striking—Rilian's eyes are instantly drawn to the three small sparks—and then a flicker. Straw, possibly, catches flame; a dark shape in a dress glides in front of the fire, blocking the light. One arm reaches for a long stick, and then draws it back to the fire; a crackling, and a torch is lit. The figure glides—it really doesn't look like walking—to light three other torches placed in piles of rock. Though he stays silent, Rilian uses the time to study his—their—prison.

It's a large cave, though half of the floor is covered in seawater, the half opposite Rilian. Piles of rock, waist high, stand at various intervals, all with torches. To one side there's a bed—or a nest?—of straw, cloth, and dirt. A white plate from the castle kitchens lays beside it. The gliding figure lights a torch by the bed, one a few paces away from Rilian, and last, one by the water.

It's only when that torch is lit that Rilian sees Ileana. Two delicate chains, half the size of his, run to the land. One end wraps around pillars of rock and the other around her wrists, holding her arms flat to the ground. From the waist downward, she's in the water, and she—oh, thank Aslan!—she has a tail. But silver glints under the water, right above where the fins spread out, and Rilian realises she's chained on both ends.

She's looking at him, wet hair plastered to her head, her face white and small in the distance.

"Ileana?"

"Rilian."

"Yes, I'm sure you have lot to say to each other. But that's not what I want to speak of. You, Mermaid, be silent, or I will sing you into fighting your chains again. And you, deadly King—obey me, speak to me, or I will hurt her."

Rilian takes a millisecond more, just that, to etch Ileana into his eyes and mind. Then he looks at the woman who holds them. She moves closer, towards the torch nearest to Rilian. Her hair falls long and black down her back; her arms and face are pale white. In the flickering firelight her lips are a deep red, and her eyes a shining, swallowing black. Rilian glances down her light-green dress, gently moving back and forth, and he swallows. He cannot see her feet, for the dress nearly brushes the ground, but something about the way she stands, leaning slightly backwards, turns his stomach.

He is a King, and he will not let that show. He lets his eyes rise calmly to her face. "Who are you, and what do you seek?"

"Oh, very good for a first try. But that is still not what I want. Ileana," and the red lips curve in a smile, the voice deepens into something silk and rotting, while the eyes look right into his as she says, "do a flip."

More chains clink; Rilian looks back to the water to see Ileana's arms cross and her tail flail, her entire body trying to turn in the air as she cries out in pain.

"Stop!" Rilian cries, but Ileana doesn't, and the woman says nothing, just smiling, while Ileana tries and tries to get her body to completely turn. Rilian fights his own chains, but there's no give to the metal. He hears a horrific crack as one of Ileana's arms breaks, and still she tries to turn. At last she manages it and lies, crying, face up, her arms twisted over each other.

"What do you want?" Rilian asks, almost begs, looking back at the witch.

"Finally, a good question," she answers softly. "Revenge."

"For what?"

"For my sister."

Rilian looks at her, helpless, not following, and she gathers two handfuls of skirt and lifts it a handbreadth.

Rilian chokes. There's no feet under the skirt, there's a scaly tail, a serpent's tail, and it's a very familiar size.** He looks back at the witch.

"Yes," she answers softly. "My younger sister. More talented than I was, our mother loved to say. She could change all her body, and her voice—people listened long after she ceased speaking. But I have a little, just enough, enough! I wanted to wait, to wait till she had conquered Narnia, till she had fully taken you. Then I would have made you mine. Slipping quietly through the halls, into the bedchamber, whispering in your ear—she would have died by your hand."

Rilian nearly throws up, trying not to picture it, to picture being beside her, Narnia under her reign—even his nightmares hadn't pictured the nights, once the chair was no longer necessary.

"And then you and Narnia would have been mine." She reaches out one hand and holds his cheek, like a mother comforting her baby. "But my sister had to break you first, and she didn't quite succeed, did she? For all our mother's praise. So I was going to let you go. But then," and her voice is anything but sweet; it's dripping acid, burning all it touches, "a Mermaid came along. A Mermaid! Half-fish! And you fell for her, I saw it in the dungeons, you fell for the fish. At first all I wanted was to punish her, for daring to dream of what we could not have—so I took the things she loved, the things she sang of near my home in the meadow, and I followed her in the Cair, looking to take her. But it was risky. I had to sing myself out of memory so many times, my voice was going. And then I found him, the man with greed in his heart, and I helped him. The Mermaid would never have you, have Narnia. She would have only misery."

"But we found him." Rilian says it just to hear the sound of his own voice; to break the sound of hers, just for a moment.

His isn't as loud, and he hears the quiet crying of Ileana over it; his heart wrenches.

He has to get them out of here.

Maybe, if he can keep her talking, she'll lose her voice. So Rilian adds, "We found him, and your plan failed."

"He was a fool! Wanting the wealth of the shadows and yet to stand in the light; stupid mouse! Yes, he failed. You got the Mermaid back. So I decided to take both of you," she adds, voice sickly-sweet again. "The Mermaid I can keep in the water, and she will never starve, never grow weak enough to die; she needs nothing, and neither do I. Know that, deadly King," she says, stepping closer, and putting her other hand on Rilian's face, holding it like an egg, with just a threat of pressure. She could crush him if he tried to move. "But you, you need food. You need sunlight. You will have neither. I collapsed the tunnel, the tunnel up to the top of the cliff. No one would think to look for it there. Now it's gone, and there isn't another way in. You, King, I will feed water, but not food. The days will go by and you will grow weaker, and weaker, and weaker, and she will watch. She will watch you as you had to watch her, and then you will die, and you will know, dying, that she is in my hands for the rest of her days." She leans in, till her lips are right by his ear. "You know what that is like, don't you? Spending every moment in chains, knowing there's no release? You know that it's worse than dying."

Rilian can't help the gasp, because he can picture it, picture Ileana left with his death, the dark, and the half-snake; with nothing else.

There's Aslan, Puddleglum says in his memory, and he cries the name out, "Aslan!"

She rears back, her hand lashing out, slamming his head into the stone—and he blacks out.

He doesn't think he's out of it long, because when he lifts his head she's almost to the water.

Almost to Ileana.

He's opening his mouth before he knows what he'll say, but anything, anything, to get her away—but the Snake is untwisting Ileana, not gently—she cries out again, and Rilian winces, eyes filling. But she'll have more room and an easier time on the arm if she's untwisted.

And then the snake begins to slither around Ileana.

Not just in a circle, in the water and land around her, but holding her close. The tail coils around Ileana's fish-tail, and her arms wrap around Ileana's shoulders. "Little fish, little fish, you're caught like food in a net. Do you feel how you can't get away? He can't either. Did that make you cry? You shouldn't be crying, not yet. Don't let your little white pearls drop on the sand. I didn't hit him that hard. No, that will be later. You feel the pain of your arm, don't you? He'll feel the same. Tomorrow, perhaps, or not too soon, not so he'll get a fever. It's going to take a long time for him to die. You might even get to speak with him again, to tell him how sorry you are. Aren't you sorry? He wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, for you coming on land and seeking his heart. You should have loved the sea; you should have stayed where you belonged. Can't you feel the land reject you? You can't live here. And you wanted to rule over it! There, there, stop crying," and she patted Ileana's head. "You're half in the water here. Just enough to keep you alive."

Rilian tries to drown out the rest, the strong arm around the frail Mermaid shoulders, the hand pulling the golden hair, and the tail—

There'd been an afternoon where Rilian threw up, seeing her change. Now, with the snake scales coiled around the Mermaid ones, Rilian doesn't think he'll ever mistake them again. Ileana's are larger, more reflective, jewels in the water, not armour from the land.

And he knows what it's like to have a serpent coiling around his legs, the crushing strength that imprisons. He wants with all he is to rip the snake off Ileana. But if he lets the snake know he's awake, she'll have more means to torture them both. That would probably be harder for them both.

So he stays silent, watching, trying to ignore her words, watching for any actual pain; when there is none, he stays quiet.

After a few long, dreadful minutes, she uncoils and slides out of the water, towards the bed. Rilian quickly closes his eyes.

"If he wakes, tell him to be quiet. Very quiet. If either of you wake me, you will regret it." Eyes closed, Rilian listens to the chilling sound of scales on rock, the blowing breath as she puts out the torches, the rustling of cloth, and, last, the quiet shifting of a body. There are no more sounds from Ileana, and Rilian hopes she is not crying. He hopes she's resting, or asleep, or anything that would give her a reprieve from this, the dark and the waiting in pain.

Time seems to move very slowly; an eternity passes as he listens to the breathing on the bed, waiting for it to grow slow and deep. When it finally does, he cautiously moves one hand, letting the chains clink.

"Rilian?" comes the instant whisper. "We must be quiet."

"I know," he whispers back, and waits. The breathing does not stutter or change, and Rilian thinks it might be safe to talk, at least in undertones.

"Are you hurt, other than your arm?"

"Not much."

"Much?"

"The chains are tight, and I cannot feel my tail—but it is not much. Rilian, I am so very, very sorr—"

"Enough," Rilian cuts her off, though his tone is gentle. "My actions are not your doing. And I would know there was such an evil in my land, for it must be fought. Do not listen to her words."

"I'll try not to. Rilian—she whispers the same things as the dark beneath the sea."

"Remember the light, beloved. The light of the stars, and the words of the Lion."

There's a pause, and a small clink. "You have not called me beloved before."

Rilian holds back the laugh before it escapes him; it's too bitter, and quite possibly too loud. "Try to get some rest."

"I suppose I will need it."

They both fall silent, and Rilian shifts to lean back against the wall. But try as he may, he cannot rest. He's listening to the breathing of the sleeping Snake, and also, he realises, listening for Ileana's breathing. It hasn't changed.

He doesn't think she's asleep.

"How long before I woke up, the first time?" he asks in that whisper.

"Two or three hours. She went to collapse the tunnel, came back, put out the torches, and slept a little. She had told you to sleep, after she chained you."

Something dawns on Rilian, another bitter thought, and it's out of his mouth before he can stop it. "It's a rest day now." Not that either of them are likely to rest.

"I've been gone a full day?"

"Yes."

"It felt like much longer."

"Pain has a way of slowing down time."

"Yes."

He wonders if she's holding back apologies, or protests, or perhaps even tears. There's a hunger in him to move, to try to look for a way out, but he's tested them and they won't give—and testing them again might wake their captor. So he tries to focus on Ileana instead. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Escape?" There's a little wry humour in her tone, and it gives Rilian strength. Though she would not wish him here, he can tell he's helping her ground herself, here in the dark.

That is not nearly enough, and it takes all his self discipline to be quiet and calm for her.

"That I am working on."

"I will try too. But my chains are too strong, and my mouth cannot reach the water, to summon my people."

"Your stone—your song—led me here."

"It what?" There's a brief second, then, "How? I did not—my magic couldn't do that."

"Your father and mother altered it for me." He wonders where the stone is, if anyone will find it—though it wouldn't be glowing anymore. "The song has ceased by now, and it will not lead anyone else here."

"You met my fath—" she breaks off as there's a shifting of cloth from the bed; they're both quiet till the breathing evens out again.

"How did you meet them? Why? When?"

"I went looking for them, to ask for a way to save you. I fell into the water with your stone."

"Merfolk who weren't on land, and weren't bound by a promise." She sounds stunned, as if she were thinking it over. "What—did they tell you?"

Rilian is silent for a moment. Do it well, her father and mother had said. But he may not have a chance to do it at all, and besides, if they do get out, she will need it. She dies tomorrow if she's not in the water. "I had plans to do this well," he began, "but I don't know if I'll get the chance. Ileana, I promise—I choose—to love you for the rest of my life, no matter where we are or who we are with. In all circumstances, at all times, I will love you."

"Rilian—" but Rilian has to finish, to save her from this, at least, to let her know she is loved.

"I chose that before I found your parents, by the way. I was looking for them because I needed to ask permission—on land we ask the father and mother's permission before asking the girl—"

"Rilian, I—" Her voice is a little choked, and Rilian fights down his fear.

"Did that not work? I'm not asking you just to break the curse. I swear, Ileana, I love you." Rilian starts to panic; is his love not enough? Are the words not enough? What had her father said? "Will you marry me?"

That is when she begins laughing. Her real laugh, clear and fearless—and across from him, Rilian hears someone stirring.

Then there's a screech of metal, loud and brief, and a splash.

"I warned you," the Snake says in a cold rage. "I warned you not to wake me." There's a rustling, a striking of flint once more, and Rilian doesn't bother looking her way as she lights the torch near her bed. His eyes are on the shore, trying to make sense of the shadows. He can't see Ileana.

He can't see her because she isn't there. He finds her chains instead, now too short to reach the water, the last link on each bent open, and scattered white pearls where she had wept. But she, herself is gone.

The Snake must have been looking towards the water too, for a horrendous screech rings through the cave. One long scream, making Rilian shudder, lasts for as long as the Snake has breath. She draws in air, and the scream changes to words hurled at the water. "A curse on the fish! A curse on the Lion! She's gone! She left! No—no. She loves him. She will be back." She turns, swaying, eyeing Rilian. He meets her black gaze calmly. Even when she picks up a sheathed knife, he does not fear. She cannot take his mind, as her sister had; and now she cannot harm his heart.

He waits as she slithers forward. This, it is easy to trust to Aslan.

But she is right, for Rilian hears a splash, and turns his head to see Ileana scrambling for the shore, gasping, her tail turning to feet even as she crawls forward, trying to get her legs under her without tripping on her ragged white dress. The Snake runs for her but Ileana is on her feet and she dodges, running to Rilian. She's by his side a second later, reaching for the chain on his left arm.

"Cover your ears!" Rilian orders, for the Snake turned and is opening her mouth. But Ileana only smiles at him before pulling on the chain.

"Do not fear," she sings, voice full and loud. Rilian sees both arms are whole. "I have called my people. But I must get you out before they get here. Sing, beloved, sing, so we may not hear her!"

Rilian sings at the top of his voice, the wordless song of the stars his mother placed in his heart at birth. He's much louder than the snake; only brief snatches of her voice gets through. Ileana ignores them both, bracing her feet on the ground and pulling the chain, trying to remove it from the wall.

She's so focused on her task that she misses the Snake closing her mouth in frustration, hate ugly on her glaring face. The Snake shakes the sheath off the dagger and lets it fall to the ground, stalking forward. With one swift move, Rilian grabs Ileana and puts her behind him.

"Rilian, I must get you free."

"Then pull from back there," he orders, eyes still on the Snake. If she comes close enough, he'll wrap her neck in the chains.

"There's no time—oh, Rilian, they're here."

Rilian risks a glance towards the water. He freezes.

The water is rising. It's lapping the pillar her chains were attached to, and falling around the base to come forward still more. The top of the water rolls forward in white-capped waves—and there are faces in them. In the light of the torch and the white of the water, they are beautiful even in their wrath.

And still the waves roll on.

They hit the walls and rocks crumble, crashing into the water. It's halfway up the first pillars now. Tearing his eyes away from the madness, Rilian looks back to the Snake.

She's backing away from the water, and if she's screaming she can't be heard over the crumbling rock. But she's backing to the wall where Rilian and Ileana are, a Centaur's length from them. If the water comes for her, it will come for him as well.

Can the Merfolk save him?

Will his oath to Ileana still count if he's dead? Will she live?

These thoughts flash through Rilian's mind, and possibly the Snake's as well, for she turns to look at the two of them with triumph in her gaze, the triumph only the mad feel.

There's a crash behind Rilian, and a deep pain as a rock hits his head. But his hands fall to his sides, and he realises dizzily that Ileana did it, she broke his chains—she's strong again?

As if the rocks were a signal, the waters begin receding, the faces with them. Not quite to the halfway mark, for the bed is still covered—but the waters stop advancing.

"Ileana?" Rilian pants, for his head hurts, and there's warm liquid itching his head above one eye.

"Wait," she says softly. "Look to the water."

He looks, and there's another face emerging from the water. A face with a blue mark burning on his forehead; a face Rilian never expected to see again.

"He died." Rilian is sure of it, he watched the wave reach into the boat—

"The water took both him and the pearls that allow him to breathe in his watery prison. Now he will drag his accomplice to share it with him." Slow step by slow step, the Ambassador emerges from the water. His clothing hangs raggedly about him, his skin is wrinkled, and his eyes—his entire face resembles the face of a man in a nightmare. But all his attention is on the Snake, not the Mermaid or the King. There's something mesmerising about his slow advance, about the ragged breath he takes with each step, and the sob that comes out after it. Rilian can't look away, blinking the blood from his eye.

So it is Ileana that shoves him away, Ileana, he sees as he turns, who takes the knife the Snake is stabbing towards them. He thinks he screams, he hears his own voice, but he's grabbing the Snake's wrist and twisting it, snapping it, and then catching Ileana as she falls. He goes with her, falling to his knees. He leaves one arm around her shoulders and presses the other to the red stain spreading over her sand-covered dress. He looks up, tensed to ward off another blow, perhaps, and sees the squid grabbing the Serpent in a bear hug. She screams, high and loud, terror instead of rage. One wrinkled white hand fishes a pearl out of the ragged pocket and throws it in her mouth, choking her. She gags and swallows, the scream cutting off. The squid drags her to the shore, where the water rises in a single tall wave and sweeps them both away, leaving nothing but an empty shore.

Rilian looks at the Mermaid in his arms, still bleeding, and then back at the water. "Help," falls from his lips before he realises he's speaking. "Please, help." A wave crashes high and falls, and Ileana's father stands in the water.

"Bring her to us," he commands, and Rilian moves. Scooping Ilena up—and she's so much heavier now, he nearly falls, crashing into a pillar and still stumbling forward—Rilian reaches the water. He runs into it, feet pushing into the sand, till he reaches the Merman. It's a brief moment where he shoves Ileana into the waiting arms, and the Merman falls back, into the water. Moments later they are gone.

Rilian is alone. The other faces have vanished from the water.

In fact, the waters are calming. There are no more waves, only ripples, and the land in the cave is slowly drying. The single torch still burns. Rilian looks into the flames and spares a brief moment for thanks, that he is not in the dark. He uses the light to look around.

The bed is washed away, though the chains remain looped to the pillar and attached to the fallen rocks. Rilian cannot help himself; he glances at the water, wondering if he could follow the Merfolk. Not just because freedom lies that way, but because Ileana

The way is dark, and he does not know how long he would have to hold his breath. So he turns resolutely to the walls instead.

If he can get out, he can summon a Merman and ask—

No, the stone is gone.

But he can take a boat and go hunting. So he walks to the walls, picking his way around fallen rocks and searching for the cave entrance.

He finds it, a place full of loose rocks and dirt. It will take hours to dig it out. But hours he probably has.

He lights two other torches first; not all of them, but enough that one going out will not plunge him into darkness. And then he begins to dig.

He throws the stones as far behind him as he can, to leave himself room, but that doesn't seem to be very far. He tries to set a rhythm, and even tries to sing at first. But the dirt falling on his face makes him choke, and he's soon working in silence. It seems even his movements grow slower and slower in the quiet.

When it breaks with the single word "Beloved?" he turns so swiftly he cuts his hands.

Walking forward in her ragged white dress, a dark stain on the side, her blue eyes on him—his own Mermaid is back.

He scrambles over the rocks, falls to the ground, and is up and running before his mind registers the pain or the dizziness. He grabs her arms, then falls to his knees, reaching his hand towards her side.

She covers his hand with her own. "It was a wound made on land. It is healed. See?" She presses his hand in, and there is no blood, no warmth, just bloody fabric that makes him shudder. "And now it is your turn," she adds, and he looks up at her.

"Mine?"

"Yours, beloved King. You are still confused. And bleeding, on both your head and your hand. Come near the torchlight." He staggers to his feet and follows where she pulls him. It is such a relief to have her there, to see that she is safe—and to not be alone, too, that he does not object when she asks him to sit, leaning against the wall. Her hands are gentle and cool as she scoops water from the sea and washes away the blood from his hair, face, and hand. There's no instinct to flinch as she tears off one ragged sleeve and binds his head. He watches her as she bends over his hand, gold hair shining in the torchlight, and all he can think of is that this feels like home. It almost doesn't hurt.

But he's vaguely aware that it should, and he thinks his head injury may need a healer. So he tries, for her, to gather his thoughts and be the King he's supposed to be.

"The sea—is there a way a Son of Adam could swim through that outlet and reach the outside?"

Pausing, she looks up at him. "Not—without help."

"But I'll have your help."

"No, that's not—yes, you will have my help, but that will not be enough." She bends over his hand again, carefully brushing sand away from the cut. "My family went to go ask for a treasure for you."

"A treasure?" he asks tiredly, and she glances up again, frowning.

"I think you should stay awake. Rilian—do not drift. Your tone scares me."

"Then talk to me. Please." He closes his eyes, and opens them again when she tugs on his hand. "What treasure did they go to find?"

She is silent for a moment. "You saw—what the Ambassador fed the Snake?"

"A pearl."

She places his hand on his knee and scoots to sit beside him. One gentle hand presses his head onto her shoulder. "One of the pearls he forced me to weep. They are all his now, and the measure of them is the measure of days he has left in his misery. When a Mermaid's pearl touches the tongue of a creature, it dissolves, and the creature may breathe underwater, for a time."

"Then they went to find me a pearl?" Rilian asks. Perhaps it's his head injury, but it doesn't make sense to him that they went to find one—hadn't there been several on the beach? Couldn't she cry another?

"Not just any pearl." One hand pats his head, and then begins stroking his hair. "If you eat a pearl cried from pain or sorrow, you will bear the curse of the sea. They went to find you a pearl cried from joy. If they can find one, they will come back."

"And if they do not?"

"Then, when your head is better, you will have to decide if we should dig ourselves out, or send the Merfolk for help—though they do not know where the entrance to this is, for they do not know of the surface, or bear the curse of the sea."

Rilian closes his eyes again and sinks into the darkness. "I do not want to think about that now."

"Rilian, stay awake."

He opens his eyes. "You seem to be doing better."

"Much. All my wounds are healed."

"And you are strong again?"

She laughs, high and clear, and it's better than a sunrise. "I am even stronger than when I first walked on land."

"Why?"

"Because of how much you love me," she answers simply. "The strength of my body is now determined by the strength of your love—and your love is very strong, My King."

"That's good." He closes his eyes again. "Don't let the torches go out?"

"If they do, I will sing the song of the stars into the rocks, and we will not be without light."

He can feel the smile spreading over his lips. Had he once feared her magic? And now it will be his light in a dark place.

At that moment, there's a rumbling of rocks. Rilian tries to leap to his feet, but he stumbles, falling into the wall, and Ileana catches him, hands strong on his arm.

"Quickly!" a familiar voice barks, and there's rocks spilling into the cave from the plugged entrance. "King Rilian? Lady Ileana?"

"Captain Etmun?" Ileana asks incredulously.

"Thank the Lion! Here, lad, don't break through—we don't know if there's danger yet!"

"There's no danger," Ileana calls back, and Rilian's glad, because his head is still spinning. "The danger is past. But King Rilian is hurt, a knock on the head, and I did what I can, but—" Her voice breaks off, and Rilian realises for the first time how scared she actually is.

"I'm fine," he calls, both for them and for her.

"Very likely," the Captain grumbles. "Stand clear! We're almost through!"

The stones keep spilling forward, and Rilian watches the faces—Jarmu's at the front, surprisingly, and guards he recognises behind them. He's swaying on his feet, weak, tired, and honestly his stomach is churning and he might throw up, but he's safe, there's no more threat, and Ileana's arm under his is strong and well. She'll live.

The fight goes out of him and he sags back to the floor, his eyes closing.

"Captain!" he hears Ileana call, and there're footsteps, paw-steps, and a hand too small to be a full-grown man's on his arm.

"I'm fine," he mumbles, but he doesn't bother opening his eyes, because they never listen to him when he says it anyway, and he kind of isn't fine, after all—but the world is fine. "I just need some rest," he tells the world. "It's a rest day. I need some rest."

"Get the healers!" is the last thing he hears, but he isn't worried. He knows he'll be fine when he wakes up.


*My speculation, based on his words in The Silver Chair. I wrote a bit more about it in the two-shot "Hunter and Hunted," if you're interested.
**In the Narnia forum Heyna Blackstar suggested a Melusina as a villain—half snake, half human, and possibly related to the Lady of the Green Kirtle. I filed it away for future reference, and here it is!

Merman hair A/N: so for those of you who like details, yes, the Merman father has short hair, but at the time of his engagement he had long enough hair he could cut a lock of it to loop around Ilthee's wrist three times. I had this headcanon that Mermen grow their hair long when they are young, till the time they propose, and afterwards (if they want to) they cut it short. The majority of them do, because swimming with long hair can be quite inconvenient. But Calyn commented on it, and she had this amazing idea she gave me permission to share:
"maybe it's even their fiancee/wife who actually cuts it, possibly even as part of the wedding ceremony ("for your hair is shorn by my hand, and you shall not propose to another", etc etc)."
Amazing! So that's now how things work. Because I'm the author and I said so, and it's brilliant enough it should be fact.