Author's Note: They are off to explore beyond Cair Paravel! This is probably the easiest chapter to write because I already had an old draft of this from six years ago. I hope you'll enjoy this one.

Chapter Five

When the Blood Creeps, and the Nerves Prick

"We'll go on foot," Peter said, stepping away from the shore when the waves started to rush back at him.

All of them were standing near the mouth of the Great River, just where the shore of the Eastern Sea began, when Peter spoke. The radiant sun in the south was already hot on their skin, while the smell of the salty sea breeze was strong. They were already dressed in Narnian clothing and equipped with respective weapons when they came down from the ruins.

Earlier, they had been sitting around the remnants of their campfire, discussing their next move. All bleary blinking eyes and long deep yawns. No one had a good night's rest because the ground was hard and uncomfortable, yet everyone grumbled to move about when it was beginning to be too hot to sit around in the castle capital. Everyone had planned to search for Narnian refugees in the territories of the empire that they were familiar with. Although, they agreed to plan where they would head towards to first once they had climbed down the ruins to inspect their surroundings.

However, they were back to square one upon realizing nothing resembled what they could remember.

The peninsula of Cair Paravel was now a mere island. The geography comprising the castle capital of Narnia was different from what they had always known. Their sizes and shapes were almost unrecognizable, though Edmund bargained to compare and contrast the present landforms to the ones that were recorded on the surviving maps he had found in the treasure room yesterday.

They only had a rough map of Narnia, worn and faded with age.

"We can't just wander aimlessly," Susan said, brushing the sand away from the skirt of her purple kirtle. "If there are survivors, they'll be hiding. They would have been pushed to the edges of Narnia, far from enemy borders."

The just king deftly folded the old map with a defeated sigh before pocketing it. Ultimately, the map was rendered useless. He turned his tired eyes to the sea once more. "Does anyone have a suggestion for us to head off to?"

"I say towards the Northwest, to Lantern Waste, with the lamppost. It will be a good start," Peter offered, but it sounded more like a request. "And it's where we first entered Narnia."

Agnes was crouching by the water's edge when she heard this. She had been observing the formation of the land and stones that both felt familiar and foreign to her senses. At the mention of the place, her hand that was tracing idle patterns in the sand froze mid-movement. Her breath hitched. The sound of the rolling waves and running water faded, replaced by the ghostly echo of steel clashing in the forest, of cruel laughter ringing in her ears.

"Lantern Waste…" Lucy agreed with her older brother brightly. "It's always been a safe place for Narnians, hasn't it? The trees there are old. Maybe they remember us."

"Lantern Waste makes sense," Edmund said. "It's far enough from possible enemy strongholds, and it's familiar territory. If anyone's still out there, they might have taken refuge in the woods."

Susan nodded thoughtfully. "The forest could provide good cover if we need it."

Agnes clenched her fists, forcing herself to focus on the present, but the tremor in her fingers betrayed her unease.

Lantern Waste.

The mere thought of it was enough to send her heart racing and her shoulders aching with phantom pain. Her gaze flickered to Rhindon glinting faintly in the morning light hung at Peter's side, then quickly away, but not before Edmund caught the movement.

"Agnes?" Edmund asked, tilting his head. "You've been quiet. What do you think about Lantern Waste?"

All eyes turned to her expectantly for her answer.

Agnes hesitated. Her fingers curled into fists as a memory from a lifetime ago, that she thought had been buried deep, clawed its way to the surface again—the clash of steel, the mocking laughter, her rapier slipping from her grasp, the sabaton crushing her shoulder—

"Agnes?" A voice, she was unsure of who it belonged to, pulled her from the depths of her mind.

She realized she had been holding her breath until her chest painfully throbbed. Slowly but sharp, she inhaled, considering her response.

"It's not a good place to start, Your Majesty," she said finally, her voice measured.

Peter, not being used to disagreements, turned abruptly with a frown. "I'm sorry?"

Susan frowned, her bright expression dimming. "What do you mean?"

Agnes' lips pressed into a thin line, but before she could answer, Peter leaned forward.

"What happened there, Agnes?" he asked, his tone firm but not unkind.

For a moment, the only sound she could hear was the roar of the waves crashing and moving in a rhythmic dance. Agnes' heart pounded in her chest as she tried to find the words. She slowly straightened up and wiped her damp palm on the sides of her trousers.

"Lantern Waste isn't the same place you remember, my liege. It hasn't been for a long time," she said, deflecting the question.

"Right… Which is why I think it is a good idea we explore it," Peter argued. "So we could find surviving Narnians to know what's going on here."

Agnes hesitated, her gaze turning to the Pevensie girls, who seemed to show no signs of wanting to be included in the discussion further, most especially Susan. The gentle queen showed mild interest. She seemed strained, like a taut bowstring.

Meanwhile, Edmund crossed his arms with a skeptical frown as he regarded the plan. "I see our regents point. It's also isolated. If we get into trouble, we won't have reinforcements. We'll be on our own."

"I agree with King Edmund," Agnes asserted appreciatively.

"If there's a problem with my leadership, I'd like to hear it," Peter snapped suddenly at her, ignoring his brother and making everyone reel back.

Agnes stiffened at his tone but avoided meeting his gaze.

She looked past him, her expression unreadable. "I told you," she replied quietly. "It's not the same Lantern Waste..." She trailed off before she could explain, her jaw tightening.

As Peter pressed on, Agnes felt her vision narrowing, the edges of the present blurring into the past. She saw the forest floor slick with blood again, heard the echo of laughter again, and felt the weight of her rapier slipping again. The hollow sound of her shoulder cracking and giving way beneath the sabaton continued to haunt her body.

"That's not an answer. You've been holding something back since we left Cair Paravel. If this is about—"

Agnes glanced up at him so fast that she could have snapped her neck. "You don't understand!" she yelled.

The others stared at her, equally stunned by the raw emotion.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling over. "I don't understand you, Agnes. You say you fought for Narnia. You say you care. But when it comes to making decisions, you push back. What am I supposed to think?"

His voice cracked slightly, and he took a step closer, his expression caught somewhere between anger and desperation. "I need to know what happened, Agnes. If I'm going to fix this mess, I can't have half-truths and riddles. I don't want to push you, but I need to understand. I can't make decisions without knowing what we're walking into."

Agnes' nails dug into her palms, the sting barely registering. The weight of his words hit her like a stone, but they also sent a spark of anger igniting in her chest. He did not understand—not really. How could he? He had not lived it, had not felt every loss carve into his soul like a blade.

And there it was again…

The forest floor had been slick with blood, and the air was thick with its smell. She remembered the way her shoulder had given out, the sickening crack of her bone shattering beneath her enemy's weight. His laughter had rung in her ears, cruel and mocking, as she clawed at the dirt, her fingers scraping uselessly against the earth. That sword laid just out of reach, glinting faintly in the moonlight—a taunting reminder of her failure.

"You weren't there. You didn't see what he did—what I had to do just to survive. I fought for Narnia while you were gone, and I failed. So forgive me if I'm not eager to relive it!" Her voice rose a pitch higher with each word, and by the time she was finished, she was on her feet, her fists clenched at her sides.

The sharpness of her tone took Peter aback for a moment. But he recovered quickly, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. "You think I don't understand? I've spent every moment since we came back trying to figure out how to fix this mess—how to fix what we left behind. If you're still caught up in the past, you're not helping anyone." His words cut deeper than he likely intended.

"Caught up in the past?" she repeated angrily. She gestured back at the ruins high from the ground. "Do you think this is easy for me?"

"And what would you have us do? Avoid Lantern Waste because it's apparently too painful for you to face. You said it yourself: we do not know what's out there. If any survivors are hiding in the area, we need to find them."

"You'll find nothing but ruins and memories there!"

"Are you saying you can't handle it?"

"Of course I do. You didn't see what they did."

"Then stop avoiding it," Peter said with gritted teeth.

"I'm not avoiding it!"

"Yes, you are! You won't tell us what happened there."

"It's not easy for me to say, Your Majesty," Agnes laughed bitterly.

The two glared at each other, the sunlight casting soft shadows across their furious faces. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed as though no one dared to speak. However, as the High King and the regent were about to open their mouths, Edmund, who had been watching the argument with a calculating gaze, finally interjected. His voice was calm but carried an edge of authority, a reminder of his growth since the days of the White Witch.

"Enough, both of you," he said coolly, a palm resting on his hip. "I think that we should stop this argument by consulting me, who happens to be the Duke of Lantern Waste." He glanced at his older brother first, his dark eyes narrowed as if to silently admonish him.

Peter's jaw tightened as Edmund stepped in, his younger brother's words hitting closer to home than he wanted to admit. He was not angry with Agnes—at least, not entirely direct. He seemed angry with himself, with the crushing weight of knowing that they had left Narnia behind when it needed them most. But he did not know how to say it, and the frustration bubbled over in all the wrong ways.

Peter turned to him, looking offended by the interruption. "Ed, I don't think you—"

Edmund cut him off first. "I get it, Peter... Lantern Waste is important. But we need to be smart about this. We can't just march in there blind if we are unprepared for danger as something about it bothers our regent. We need her input. You don't get to judge her for how she feels."

Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Edmund gave him a raised hand.

"Look," Edmund said, his tone softening as he turned to Agnes. "You've done more for Narnia than any of us can imagine. No one's questioning that. But if there's even a chance we can find survivors, we have to take it. Lantern Waste might be painful, but it could also be where we start to put things right."

Agnes swallowed hard, her anger fading as shame crept into her skin. She was counting numbers in her head to push back the raging fire from igniting again at the tip of her tongue.

"No one's asking you to relive the past," he continued. "But if there's anything you know about Lantern Waste—anything that can help us—now's the time to tell us."

Agnes looked away, her shoulders slumping. All of the anger in her nerves faded away, leaving only a deep, aching weariness.

"If you're not ready, that's fine too," Edmund said, noticing her apprehensiveness. "Just don't let your fear stop us from doing what we need to do."

Then, he turned to Peter, his voice firm again. "And, pushing someone who's already carried more than her fair share isn't leadership, Pete. It's just pride."

"I think because we're all afraid, in our own way." Lucy's soft voice rang out, feeling relieved that the two had already calmed down. She had been watching the argument unfold with a disappointed look. "But Lantern Waste is where everything began for us."

"We've all lost something, Lady Agnes. And we'll all have to face it eventually. But we can't face it if we don't move forward," Susan said, placing a hand on her younger sister's arm. "Come on, let's keep moving."

Susan, Edmund, and Lucy walked away, the soft sand cushioning their steps and shifting slightly with each footfall, leaving the two behind.

Peter and Agnes, not anymore glaring at each other, searched each other's faces for a moment. The air between them was lighter but charged with unspoken determination.

Peter let out a slow breath, his shoulders sagging as the anger completely drained out from his face. "I shouldn't have pushed you," he said quietly. "But you have to understand—I don't know what I'm doing, Agnes. I don't know how to fix this."

His voice cracked on the last word, and he quickly looked away with a tight jaw. Agnes felt her own anger melt away, replaced by a flicker of unexpected compassion.

For all his bravado, Peter was just as lost as she was.

"None of us do," he continued. "I need you, Agnes. We all do."

Agnes stared at him as the heaviness of his words settled in her heart. The High King of Narnia needed her—her, the girl who had failed so many times. But the sincerity in his eyes left no room for doubt.

For the first time in forever, she felt a flicker of something she thought she had lost.

Purpose.

It was her turn for her shoulders to relax, nodding stiffly. Agnes closed her eyes upon hearing the tinge of hurt in his voice. When she was ready, she faced the High King, who was looking at her with genuine concern.

Almost immediately, she felt guilt for sparking an argument.

"I'll tell you what I can, in time, my king. But Lantern Waste…" She felt her throat squeeze, so she took another deep breath before continuing "... It's not just a place for me. "

She allowed him to come closer. His fingers reached for her elbow in a gesture so simple yet so profound. Her traumatic memories pressed against her mind, but as she looked into Peter's eyes, she felt a crack in the wall she had built around her heart.

"You're not alone anymore," Peter said softly.

And for the first time in a long time, Agnes believed so.

Neither of them moved, but she knew she was not alone anymore.

Then, Susan called out from farther down the beach, her voice breaking the moment between Peter and Agnes.

"If we're going to Lantern Waste, we should head out now!"

Agnes pulled away from Peter's grasp, her heart still pounding but her resolve steadying. "She's right," she said. "We'd better get moving."

Agnes plunged into the cool waters of the river mouth, the current immediately pulling her. She swam towards the boat of the two Telmarine soldiers they had encountered just moments ago.

It all happened immediately before this.

When they had taken a few steps earlier from the shore, the group spotted those soldiers on the boat, who were about to throw a tied-up and beaten dwarf down the river.

Agnes immediately recognized the armor.

She knew that the days of Telmarines' terrorizing reign over Narnia had not stopped in the siege back in Cair Paravel.

They held no interest nor feeling of threat when the soldiers spotted them, even Susan's threat to shoot them with her arrows had been futile because they went with their purpose and shoved the helpless red dwarf out of the boat.

Peter automatically jumped into the waters to pull the dwarf back to shore, followed by Agnes who chased the soldier who jumped and swam away after the other one was quickly shot by Susan. The Telmarine soldier was just about to load his crossbow, but the gentle queen was quicker.

Back in the shore, Edmund pulled the boat in, Lucy remained with a dagger in her hand, and Susan stood back with her bow.

Rising up to the surface, Agnes' hand shot up first and grabbed the shaft of Susan's arrow that had pierced through the boat earlier. Luckily, it did not penetrate the wood too deeply as she was able to pull it free with great effort, then trodden around the boat to reach the riverbank.

The Telmarines soldier clawed at the rocks and hauled himself out of the water. He was injured. His leg buckled as he stood, but he was alive. But, he was not a trained runner. His heavy armor clinked with every frantic step, his boots slipping against the damp undergrowth. Desperation fueled his escape as he tore through the forest.

Coming up on foot with the golden arrow clutched tightly in her hand, Agnes' breath came in sharp gasps as she sprinted through the undergrowth. Her boots were pounding against the soft forest floor. She could barely hear the sound of her own pursuit over the thundering rush of the river nearby. Her lungs felt like they were on fire and her wet clothes stuck on her body as she went on.

"Oy! Come back here," she barked.

Agnes pushed herself harder, her lungs burning with the effort. The soldier was fast, but his heavy armor and lack of familiarity with the forest slowed him down. She was gaining on him, her rapier bouncing against her side as she ducked under low-hanging branches and leaped over exposed roots.

"Stop!" Agnes shouted. Her fingers tightened around the shaft of the golden arrow. "You won't make it!"

But the Telmarine soldier did not stop.

She surged forward and closed the gap. He stumbled, glancing back over his shoulder with wide, terrified eyes. It gave her a surge of grim satisfaction.

The decades of combat training she had in Narnia was alive and thrumming in her limbs. It had always been since she arrived back here yesterday. So when moved, it was precise. She whipped her arm and struck the arrow against him. Notched or not, it was a weapon in her hands.

Let them know.

Let them wonder.

Let them fear.

The golden arrowhead struck its mark—not in his body, but in his armor. It slammed into the straps of his breastplate with a metallic clang, lodging itself just above his heart. The force and shock sent him sprawling to the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he scrambled to sit up.

Agnes placed her hands on her hips and held her chin up defiantly, watching as the Telmarine soldier's trembling hands fumbled to pull the arrow free. He froze when he saw the red fletching. She felt a strange sense of calm upon seeing the red and gold contrasting the muted color of his metal armor.

It was poetic.

Narnian colors against a Telmarine.

"Tell them Cair Paravel sends their regards," she whispered and the woods seemed to quaver under her voice.

This arrow was not just for Telmar. It was also for the Narnians who needed to see it.

The Telmarine soldier stared at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Go!" Her tone was sharp and commanding. "And, don't make me find you again."

Not needing to be told twice, he scrambled to his feet, clutching the arrow tightly in one hand as he fled into the woods.

Agnes lingered for a moment, staring after the soldier until he disappeared deeper into the trees. Her chest rose and fell with every steadying breath, and she forced herself to unclench her fists.

'This was not about revenge,' she told herself.

By the time she returned to the riverbank, the Pevensies and the red dwarf they had saved were already waiting for her in the boat. Peter, who was adjusting the oars, was the first to notice her approach.

Like they had a will of their own, her eyes wandered on him, regarding appreciatively how his soaked tunic clung against his form. The body of a commander and swordsman. Her thoughts stilled when he held out a hand towards her, which she took as she carefully stepped inside the boat.

As they locked eyes on each other, she felt her breath was knocked out of her lungs, until she realized she was equally soaked. His gaze was also highly aware of that fact. Just briefly. A true gentleman.

Her cheeks reddened, feeling self-conscious. The two of them looked away when Edmund broke the silence.

"They were Telmarines," he told her.

"I know," Agnes replied. She refused to make eye contact as she settled herself beside their youngest sister.

Peter grabbed the oars and rowed away, a nerve jumping near his jaw. However, he refused to join in the conversation.

The red dwarf turned to Agnes after careful observation. "You are that regent from our legends," he remarked with his thick eyebrows furrowed.

"I am Agnes," she said, her lips curling into a small smile. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

"Trumpkin," he answered gruffly. "You frightened that Telmarine, alright."

"I did."

"And, you didn't kill him," Trumpkin said after a moment, his tone half-impressed, half-intrigued.

"It wasn't notched," Agnes replied in protest as if it would make a difference.

Susan crossed her arms, her tone clipped as she addressed Agnes. "You used my arrow," she said, her words more a statement than a question.

Agnes met her gaze, her voice calm but firm. "My queen, I sent a message," she explained. "If they think we're hiding, they'll hunt us down. But if they think we're ready to strike back, they might think twice. Fear buys us time."

Susan studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. "Let's hope they take it as a warning, not an invitation," she muttered finally, turning away to help Lucy adjust in the boat. The gentle queen was still uncomfortable with Agnes using her arrow like that.

"And if they take it as a challenge?" Lucy asked as she shifted uncomfortably, glancing between her eldest siblings.

Agnes tilted her head, her green eyes glinting. "Then, let them come."

After hearing Trumpkin's stories of meeting Caspian X, the group had foregone their journey to Lantern Waste and decided to travel towards the Shuddering Woods, where other Narnian refugees could be found.

When they climbed out of the boat, they encountered a wild bear that almost attacked Lucy. From there, they painfully learned the extinction of Talking Beasts brought by abuse and neglect years after the siege happened.

They had no time to mourn.

They had to move forward with that knowledge.

However, the way to the dense forest until the rocky passage was filled with debates between Peter and the red dwarf in terms of direction. Agnes learned better than to go against her High King, thus she remained at the back.

She had served this land for decades from previous lives and walked among these forests with Narnians at her side. But now, she felt like a stranger in her own kingdom. The trees whispered secrets she no longer understood, and the land bore scars she could not recognize.

"I'm not lost," Peter said, more to himself. He stood on a boulder as he surveyed the area that his eyes could not recognize.

"No," Trumpkin rebutted. "You're just going the wrong way."

Irritated, Peter's voice grew louder as he continued. "You said you last saw Caspian at the Shuddering Woods, and the quickest way there is to cross at the River Rush."

The red dwarf remained unfazed, uncaring at all that he seemed to offend his king. The High King, nonetheless. "But unless I'm mistaken, there's no crossing in these parts." He motioned around, only the thick walls of rock surrounded them and the large roots of ancient trees. They offered no passage anywhere, but back to where they came from.

Still, Peter was unrelenting. "That explains it then," he snarled. "You're mistaken."

The rest of the group visibly sighed. No one interjected further, but everyone decided to turn around from the dead-end.

Agnes hung back, watching Peter with concern. "I know you're not lost," she said.

Peter glanced at her, his anger faltering. He had expected defiance or denial, but not this raw and unguarded pain. She saw his fingers twitched, perhaps towards her but she was not very sure. Ultimately, his hands fell to his sides, and for a beat, he struggled to find the right words.

"I know…" he replied finally, his voice quieter. "It's just the landscapes and places… They're not what I remembered."

"I know," she agreed. "Everything's different. But, I'm here, my king." Her heart leaped in her throat as she brushed her hand against his reassuringly, light as a feather.

"It's Peter," he said after a beat. "Just Peter… After all that has happened and will happen, I'm Peter to you."

Agnes' breath caught in her throat at his words.

Peter. Not 'High King,' not 'Your Majesty.'

Just Peter.

It felt strange, intimate in a way she hadn't expected. She had spent so long thinking of him as a figure from legend, the magnificent king whose name carried the weight of an entire kingdom. But now, he was here, flesh and blood, asking her to see him for the boy he was—and the man he was trying to become.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she met his gaze. "Titles or not, you're always magnificent to me. And if you need me to be, I'll be just Agnes to you."

"You're more than just a regent to me, Agnes." He returned the smile as his fingers leaned into her touch and wrapped around hers tightly before letting go. They fell back into step with the group, side-by-side.

Everyone continued walking until they reached a deep gorge, where looking down, a rushing river current greeted them from far below.

Susan's face was filled with triumph and relief from proving her brother wrong. "Over hundreds of years," she explained, "Water eroded the earth's soil…"

Edmund shot their oldest sister a glare; Lucy winced at the attempt to explain the phenomenon.

"Oh, shut up," Peter cut her off before she could drone on. He scanned the gorge below, his fingers curling around Rhindon's hilt. "Is there a way down?" he asked as he turned to Trumpkin.

"Yeah, falling," the dwarf deadpanned in reply.

"Oh," Agnes said with disappointment, her gaze sweeping over the gorge. "Even the land doesn't know where it belongs anymore."

Trumpkin smirked. "That explains it then," he said dryly, more disappointed. "You're mistaken about me being mistaken."

The group sighed once more with defeat.

The red dwarf began to walk back, ushering everyone to follow. "Come," he told them. "There's a ford at Beruna. Any of you mind swimming."

Peter's jaw tightened, but he nodded. He turned to the others, his expression softening.

"Anything's better than walking," Susan sighed. Agnes remembered the gentle queen was known to be the best swimmer out of her siblings.

As the group followed Trumpkin, Lucy glanced back, noticing something beyond the other side.

"Aslan?" she whispered, her voice trembling with awe and relief. She took a step forward, her hand reaching out instinctively as if she could touch him.

Agnes' heart dropped to her stomach upon hearing the name. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned sharply, her dark hair whipping behind her as she followed Lucy's line of sight. Her eyes searched the distant trees.

But there was nothing. No golden mane, no gentle roar carried on the wind—only the rustle of leaves and the indifferent silence of the forest.

The others exchanged doubtful glances.

Nevertheless, Lucy's eyes glimmered with hope. "It's Aslan!" she exclaimed to them, pointing behind her. "It's Aslan over there!"

The group saw nothing.

"Well, can't you see?" she asked, her voice rising with urgency. "He's right…" Lucy glanced once more, but also saw the nothingness but the trees. "There…" Her voice trailed off, momentarily confused upon noticing that her vision of the great lion disappeared. She looked at them helplessly.

Trumpkin looked at her like she was insane. "Do you see him now?"

"I'm not crazy," Lucy defended herself. Her voice trembled with conviction, her small frame radiating a strength that belied her years. "He wanted us to follow him."

Agnes, unmoved by another argument, was also dumbfounded, the rest of the conversation became incomprehensible to her. Why did she, like the rest of the others, had not seen Aslan the way the youngest Pevensie did? Her chest tightened as her thoughts churned. She looked again, but there was nothing. Only shadows and silence.

Why could not she see Him? Why did not He come to her?

Had she failed Him too, after all these years of loyalty and sacrifice?

As they walked, Agnes glanced back at the gorge one last time. The roar of the river below still rang in her ears, just as it did when they had reached this unfamiliar point.

Narnia had changed drastically. They all had. She wondered if her faith in Aslan had changed as well.

Lucy lingered at the back as they headed towards the ford as initially planned, her eyes darting to the treetops, before walking beside Edmund in defeat.

Next update will be up by next week! I want to hear your thoughts on the story so far. Please rate and review!