Thank you, MariaSybilla for responding to my poll. You are fabulous, darling. Thank you to SupergodzillaSailorCosmos for favoriting.

Alina knew what she had to do, but she wasn't sure she could bring herself to do it. She saw him working on the boat lines, as alone as he probably ever was.

"What can I help you with, my lady?" He didn't look up or stop his work.

"I've told you, I'm not a lady."

"It seems to differentiate me from whatever demon it is that lives inside your head. I don't want you to run just because I used your name."

"There was something I was wondering, something that Edmund can't tell me," She took a pause before continuing, "how do people become stories and who decides what goes in them?"

He took his hands off the rope, but he didn't look up. "The stories of the Kings and Queens of Old formed at least 1500 years before I could even comprehend them, so I'm not sure how much help I'll be, but I will say this. They were the most important thing to happen to Narnia in 100 years, so of course people began telling stories about them. These strict histories turned into character studies and then into inspirational figures when they believed all hope was lost. The night I escaped from the palace; all I could hold onto was to be valiant in my circumstances."

"You had favorites?"

"Lucy's stories were always my favorite. They were my nanny's favorite, so maybe it's natural that they were mine, but I loved the idea that any one could have the courage to change their life and the world. I was alone and trapped. Those stories felt like freedom, and they gave me strength."

"Did you ever tell her this?"

"That would have been far too embarrassing. I never expected to actually meet them, and when I did, they were real. They weren't the people from the stories."

"I can't imagine how jarring it must have been for them. You live a life and then it's taken from you in a way. Your mind is the same as it has always been, but nobody can see that. They just see the body that used to be yours."

"I've never thought of it like that," he said. She thought that was it. She had done what she needed to do. But then he continued, "Might I ask a favor of you in return?" Now he was the one that looked nervous.

"You can ask," she said warily.

"What is this?" he asked as pulled a parchment out of his shirt. It was the spell Lucy had spoken of.

"So you did find that."

"I don't understand it. Why would Lucy have this?"

"Maybe she thought she needed it."

"But why? Why would she need this?" He sounded hurt.

"It's not my place to explain, but I can start you on the path. Your hero and your friend are the same person, a woman who remembers what it was like to be seen." It was painful how open his expressions were. She could see him processing every possible meaning of it and she felt ill.

She made her way to the side of the ship, holding onto the side as she twisted in on herself. That same kind of vulnerability had ended her. She heard a voice vaguely, as if through a fog, and she turned around.

"When I couldn't sleep from the nightmares, I retreated to sword fighting. It requires your full attention, and it exhausts you. Would you like me to teach you?" Edmund asked.

"I'm not completely useless without my powers. I was in the army."

"As a mapmaker."

"We used guns anyway, not swords."

"Narnia hasn't invented guns yet, so I don't have any with me. You can just say no, and I'll leave." It had been so long since anyone cared what she wanted or talked to her without an agenda. She had almost forgotten what that felt like.

She released her death grip on the ship, turned to him, and accepted. He was right. Even her attempts at sword fighting required her to get out of her own head, to think of nothing but Edmund's next move. They worked at it for hours. She wasn't sure she was doing better, but she felt more stable.

"I think I know how to get Lucy back," she said as they both collapsed to the deck.

"How?"

"We have to find the source of the evil in the east. It should mimic a magical place in my home. The barriers between worlds might be thin enough for us to get across."

"We'll be on the lookout as we head further east."