The Dancing Lawn. The Southern Well.

1011.

Christmastime.

Lucy.

The frosted well stood silent and still, its surface glazed with a thin layer of ice, as if it too were holding its breath. A small table had been placed atop it, its legs awkwardly propped up on the slick edges of the stone, but it added a curious charm to the glade. Lucy couldn't help but notice the way the ice sparkled beneath the tablecloth, like a hidden treasure beneath snow-covered earth.

Was it her sister by marriage's magic?

Or the work of the frost fae that followed her?

As she walked toward the table, she spotted Edmund and Arianna arriving from across the yard, their laughter barely audible over the festive music that filled the air.

Her stomach tightened at the sight of them, but not because of the usual familial affection.

No, it was something else entirely.

Something that made her cheeks heat and her eyes dart to the ground.

Arianna's usually neat and pristine appearance was… dishevelled. Her sister by marriage had definitely left the Cair with her hair perfectly coiled and pinned atop her head – but it was unbound and undulating past her shoulders in soft curls. Lucy couldn't help but glance at the strands, some of them still catching the glimmer of the torches' light. There was an undeniable ease about her, a softness in the way she moved.

Lucy quickly diverted her gaze, hoping the flush creeping across her face was not as visible as she feared. Edmund, too, looked somewhat… undone. His usually tidy hair was tousled as if he'd run his fingers through it one too many times, and the buttons of his coat were a little too loose, his collar hanging carelessly. He looked, for lack of a better word, unkempt – in a way that made Lucy feel suddenly out of place, like she was intruding on something private and far more intimate than she was prepared for.

She felt her cheeks flare even brighter, if that were possible.

She did not want to think of her dearest brother doing…that.

She simply wanted to find her northman.

"Lu," Edmund's voice rang out, warm and easy, though his usual glint of humour seemed a bit subdued.

Arianna smiled as well, though there was a slight gleam in her eyes that Lucy couldn't decipher – was it amusement? Something else? Arianna's gaze flicked to her and then back to Edmund, but it didn't seem as if they were overly concerned with Lucy's presence.

"Edmund, Arianna," Lucy greeted, her voice a little too high-pitched for her own liking. She had to remind herself to breathe, to take in the calm of the winter air, but the sight of them – their proximity, their closeness – made the words stick in her throat.

Arianna spoke first, her voice warm as she took in the sight of Lucy, who was doing her best to focus on the table, on the frost, anything but their very obvious closeness. "It's good to see you, Lucy. We've only just arrived."

Lucy nodded, still not quite able to meet either of their eyes. "I… I see," she managed, her gaze dropping toward their boots – anything to avoid the way Edmund's brown eyes were now watching her with that familiar, knowing expression. She could already tell what he was thinking.

You're blushing, aren't you, Lu?

Lu, you're a woman grown, why are you blushing?

And Arianna – she could only decipher those wintergreen pools on a good day, and more often than not her brother's wife's thoughts were a mystery to all but Aslan; and perhaps to Edmund himself. But Lucy couldn't meet her gaze.

"So," Lucy said, trying to steady her voice, to ignore the way her heartbeat quickened, and her hands felt suddenly cold, "you must be enjoying the celebrations. The table looks… wonderful."

Arianna chuckled softly, and Lucy could hear the soft affection in her voice. "It does, doesn't it? I'm still not sure how they managed to get the table out here without it slipping right off the well," she said with a teasing glance at Edmund.

Ah, the frost fae then.

Edmund looked down at the table and then at Lucy, his mouth curling into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's a miracle, really. But it's about time we find some comfort." He glanced at Arianna, and there was a silent exchange between them, something Lucy couldn't quite decipher but that made her feel even more self-conscious. He finally seemed to catch her gaze and, though there was no trace of malice in his eyes, there was an unmistakable warmth. "You look… well. The evening suits you."

Lucy swallowed hard, blinking at him as she finally allowed her eyes to meet his, and then quickly turned them back to the table.

She focused intently on the frosted well behind them, as if the cold stone could distract her from the overwhelming realization that her brother, the one she had always known as steady and composed, was capable of this kind of connection – and with Arianna, who had once been know as the Ice Queen, of all people.

"Lucy," Edmund said, his voice drawing her out of her spiralling thoughts. "Is everything alright?"

It was then that Lucy felt the heat flood to her face again. She forced a smile, but it was tight, strained. She missed her northman. She missed Faelar. "Yes, of course," she said, even though it came out more as a breath than a full sentence. "I just... hadn't expected to see you both looking quite so... content."

Arianna's smile softened, and there was something like warmth and understanding in her eyes as she placed a gentle hand on Edmund's arm. She didn't say anything – she didn't have to – but there was a subtle shift in her expression.

Edmund, on the other hand, didn't seem to pick up on Lucy's flustered state. "Well, we've had a long journey. A little fresh air can do wonders," he said, casually looking at Arianna as he spoke, though there was something deeper behind his words – something that made Lucy's stomach twist.

"Yes," Arianna added, her voice soft yet steady. "Sometimes the best part of a celebration is the quiet moments in between."

Then a thought struck. "Asura mentioned something earlier about… attacks. I know this isn't the time, but I need to know. What's been happening?"

Arianna's expression shifted, the warmth in her gaze replaced by something more guarded. She exchanged a glance with Edmund, and Lucy caught the flicker of unspoken understanding between them.

Edmund sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of what he was about to say had been pressing on him for months.

"There's something you need to know, Lucy," Edmund began, his voice low. "The attacks Asura mentioned – they aren't just skirmishes or random raids. We've been dealing with something... different."

Lucy furrowed her brow. "Different how?"

Arianna's eyes flicked toward the snowy tree-line, as though she expected something to emerge from the shadows at any moment. "Shadow-creatures, wraiths," she said quietly. "We don't know what they are or where they come from. They've been attacking isolated villages, travellers on the roads... even some of our Guard. And they vanish as quickly as they appear."

Lucy's breath caught in her throat. "Shadowy creatures? What do you mean? Are they... human?"

Edmund shook his head, his jaw tightening. "We don't think so. They're fast, almost impossible to track. And they don't leave much behind – no bodies, no evidence."

"We've been investigating them for the better part of the year," Arianna added, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Every time we think we've found a lead, it disappears. It's like chasing smoke."

Lucy stared at them, her mind racing. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Edmund's expression softened, guilt flickering in his eyes. "Because we didn't want to alarm you – or anyone else – until we had answers. And we still don't. The last thing we need is panic spreading across Narnia."

"But if these creatures are attacking people," Lucy argued, "then everyone has a right to know. They need to be prepared!"

And Peter had dismissed half the Guard for the night…

Arianna stepped closer, her voice firm but gentle. "We understand that, Lucy. But without knowing what we're up against, telling everyone could do more harm than good. People might see danger where there is none – or worse, they might draw these creatures to them out of fear."

Lucy clenched her fists, torn between understanding their reasoning and the rising panic in her chest. "Do you have any idea what they want? Why they're attacking?"

Edmund shook his head, his frustration evident. "No. They don't take anything – no food, no supplies. They don't leave messages or demands. It's almost like... like they're testing us. Watching how we respond."

Arianna's gaze darkened, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword. "Whatever they are, they're not acting randomly. There's a purpose to what they're doing – we just don't know what it is yet."

Lucy's heart pounded as the weight of their words settled over her. She had faced countless dangers before, but this felt different. More insidious.

"Whatever you're planning, whatever you're doing," she said quietly, her voice trembling with determination, "I want to help. I won't sit by while Narnia is in danger."

Lucy's thoughts churned as she listened to Edmund and Arianna, their words painting a grim picture of the unknown threat looming over Narnia. Her mind drifted north, to Faelar and his people.

Did they know of the shadow-creatures?

Had they seen the signs, or perhaps even faced them?

Did everyone in her life know except for her?

She couldn't shake the unease that clung to her, the need to know if Faelar was safe – if he had answers that could shed light on this growing mystery. With a deep breath, Lucy straightened, forcing a small smile to her lips. "Thank you for telling me," she said softly, though her voice carried the weight of her determination. "I'll be careful, I promise."

Edmund gave her a hesitant nod, his protective instincts still evident. "Be safe, Lu. And do not let this ruin your night. I know you love Christmas."

"I won't," she assured him.

Arianna stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Lucy's shoulder. "You'll find him soon."

"I know," Lucy replied, her smile warming just a fraction. "Take care of each other."

As she turned to leave, she couldn't help but glance back at the two of them, standing close, their bond unspoken but undeniable. It reminded her of what she yearned for – the connection she had found in Faelar.

With each step she took, her thoughts grew more focused, her worry for Narnia mingling with the ache to see her love. She quickened her pace, eager to find him, to share what she had learned—and to feel the solace of his presence once more.

…

The Dancing Lawn. The Northern Thicket.

Faelar.

Faelar stood motionless for a moment, taking in the scene before him. The normally stoic Asura, her cheeks flushed a deep rose, looked almost carefree – a rarity for the naiad who was known for her vigilance. The sparkling pigment dusted around her eyes seemed to shimmer even brighter in the torchlight, catching the glimmer of the festivities.

Peter, the ever-relaxed High King, had an arm looped casually around Asura's shoulders to steady her as she swayed slightly, a faint grin playing on her lips. The dryad with the pitcher of wine moved effortlessly, refilling their cups with a liquid so golden it seemed almost alive. Faelar's lips twitched in a faint smile.

Dryad-wine.

Dangerous indeed.

He didn't begrudge Asura her indulgence – she deserved it, after all, with the weight she carried every day in her duties. And while he preferred the sweet burn of honey mead himself, Faelar wasn't about to judge anyone for enjoying a rare moment of revelry.

The naiad's voice cut through his thoughts. "Northman," she called, her tone slurring ever so slightly but her focus sharp as her stormy eyes locked on his face. "Lucy was looking for you."

Lucy?

Faelar's heart quickened at the mention of her name. He stepped forward, leaning slightly toward the pair, his brow furrowed. "Where?"

Peter spoke next, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he gestured with a tilt of his chin. "She went that way, toward the southern well."

Without another word, Faelar swung around, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd and the spaces beyond. The festive energy of the celebration felt muted, distant, as his focus narrowed to one thought: Lucy.

But she was nowhere in sight.

Frustration curled in his chest as he pivoted back toward the High King and Asura. "How long ago?"

Asura smirked, though her expression was softened by the wine's effects. "Not long," she assured him, then raised her cup as if in a toast. "Go find her, Northman."

Peter chuckled, lifting his own cup to his lips. "And take your time. You look like a man with something to say."

Faelar didn't dignify the remark with a response, though the faintest of smiles played at his lips as he turned and strode away, his long stride carrying him quickly in the direction Peter had indicated.

The southern well wasn't far, but Faelar's heart felt heavy with each step. He hadn't seen Lucy for months, hadn't heard her laugh or seen the way her auburn hair shimmered in the sunlight. And now, as he sought her out amidst the revelry, the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

He needed to find her.

To hold her.

To tell her just how much he had missed her.