Underland, the Dark Castle.
2352.
49th Year of the Reign of King Caspian X.
Sapphyre.
Sapphyre bowed before her sister, her forearm across her chest, her back as straight as a sword.
"You're back early."
It was not a question. And she knew from the slight furrow between her sister's dark brows, by the slight downturn of her plum-painted lips, that Emerylda was displeased. Her dark auburn locks were braided around her head, a small circlet of silver across her brow. Her sister needed no crown, she did not even need the imposing throne she sat upon, nor the silken gown that pooled down the dais like an emerald waterfall. She looked untouchable, ethereal, every inch the imposing Queen that she was born to be. Kohl-lined eyes flicked behind her, the colour all the more bright for the darkness that surrounded it.
"And you returned alone?"
Alone.
She'd returned with no allies.
She looked to the man by her sister's side – sitting rod-straight upon the smaller throne. He'd not moved when she'd entered, he'd barely registered her presence, his indigo eyes focused upon her sister's face as if she were the sun. He cut a striking figure in his black armour and cloak; his black helm held loosely beneath an arm, a circlet of silver holding back his dark hair.
He was a perfect foil for her sister's green and auburn.
And he did not recognise her.
He did not smile at her return.
She did not answer her sister's silent query, not immediately, instead she let her eyes flicker to the silent knight. She did not know how much he would understand, she did not know what might awaken him to his senses.
Emerylda smiled, the slow, slinking smile of a satisfied cat. "You may speak freely, Sapphyre. I have only just woven the enchantment that holds his mind."
Sapphyre nodded; he would barely register her words, but he would not understand what they meant. "A Narnian knight, he was close to one of the entrances."
"And you took care of it?"
Sapphyre nodded. Hazel eyes flashed in her minds' eye, his gentle fingers, his kind eyes. She pushed the memory down, deep down, keeping her expression one of indifference. "His body lays in the marshes, his armour buried."
His body would not be found.
No one would know that the small rock cairn she'd made was a grave marker.
No one but her.
The dark knight's face twitched slightly, a mere fraction, but Sapphyre watched as something flickered through his eyes. Something she couldn't quite place, but it should not have been anything. Had she truly only just enchanted him? Was he resisting it already? But them that something in his gaze disappeared, as if it had never been there.
Emerylda rested her chin upon her hand, her mouth pursed in a small pout. Had she seen it too? "You look weary from your travels. Rest now. We are to have guests."
Guests.
Allies.
Emerylda had not even needed her.
Sapphyre's heart pounded, a sharp pain lancing through her chest.
"See to Snowflake."
Sapphyre gave her another swift bow, but said nothing as she turned from her sister, her deep blue cloak swirling behind her. Muffled speech was cut off as the door closed; the knight whispered words of ardour to her sister, as he fell into the enchantment, as it overcame him completely and wiped away anything that was him.
She paused for a moment, behind those closed doors.
Her sister did not need her, and the knight did not know her.
She inhaled shakily, stilling her thundering heart.
She knew the plan.
She knew the plan needed to work.
She would get passed it.
There was no room for emotions.
She pressed a hand to her chest.
It was a magic she did not understand – that enchantment of her sisters; it was a magic she had no wish to understand. She had seen hundreds, if not thousands, brought to their knees by that power. And that power was one she did not want.
To see someone's eyes go blank, wiped of personality; that was a power that was more dangerous than a killing blow.
Her fists clenched and she carefully unstrung her bow as she walked, the earthmen and knights (both green and blue-cloaked) snapping to attention as she passed. Whatever comfort it gave her, her bow was not the weapon she could use within the City; for bows and arrows were not meant for narrow streets and cramped corridors.
The path from the castle to the stables was a familiar one, and it was not long before she stood before the beautiful white mare. Snowflake, Emerylda had called her, a name that Sapphyre had snorted at, though it suited the proud mare well.
Guests, Emerylda had said.
Allies, she had meant.
The allies that she had failed to find in her wanderings through the moors, for the witches had left that land. Though they had not yet exhausted all their options, there were but a few left. Very few had the courage, or the power to stand up against the tyranny of the Narnian king. And as she ran the comb through the mane of the white mare, she wondered exactly who or what had answered her sister's summons.
Not the naiads or the dryads of the north; for they would not ally themselves with one who scorned the sun and seasons, who preferred the darkness of the caves and magic from another world. That had been an interesting meeting. The dryad queen with the crown of holly leaves had been lucky her tree was so well hidden, otherwise Emerylda surely would have burned it down out of spite after her adamant refusal to ally herself with them.
Or perhaps not so lucky; for she was chained, still, to a wall in the dungeon of the Dark Castle to stop her from going to the Narnian king. To tell him of the threat that he did not even know existed, holed up within his pretty castle.
Sapphyre shook her head. For all the slyness of a serpent, her sister had a temper that could rival any volcano when provoked.
A horn blew in the distance.
Boats.
Their guests were approaching.
She rolled her shoulder blades, concentrating on the space between them, and let the familiar tickle of her own magic roll over her, just the tiniest of trickles. And the shift was instant, as the blue and black wings burst forth, as if freed from a cage.
And those same wings lifted her form, silent beats of wings longer than her body was high. It was on the roof of the stables she landed, crouched low. For even without a full shift, she had the vision of her bird-form; she could see the boats as they docked, she could see the earthmen that bowed. It was that form that she preferred, rather than becoming a bird entirely.
She watched silvery snowflake wings flitter; bone-white hair, braided and beaded in a wind that was not there, drifted. And she watched them exit the boats, and none of the pairs of leather-encased feet touched the ground.
Her breath left her.
The fae of the frost and snow.
Sapphyre knew her the moment she laid eyes upon her, from the old folk songs and from the tales she'd heard the dryads tell their saplings to keep them in bed at night. She wore no crown, nothing atop her head bar the silver-white braids of her hair, but Sapphyre knew she was Eirwyn, the Matriarch of the Frost Fae.
She'd never seen them before, but there was no mistaking the frost-fae. She had heard tales of their disconcerting beauty, of their grace, and the small procession did not disappoint as they glided as one. Snow-white gowns trimmed with the same pristine white fur, trailed upon dark road, diamonds seemed to twinkle at their necks and fingers.
How had Emerylda contacted them?
How had she even found them?
For they were beings spoken of only in whispers and stories. There were stories of how many years passed they had been so feared that a King and Queen had given them land to the Far North, so they would not encroach upon the Narnians any longer.
Her sister had made a bold move, Sapphyre thought as she stretched her wings, preparing for flight. A very bold move.
For she would never be able to simply lock up the frost fae in her dungeons if stories were to be believed. No prison would hold them, no prison could hold them. And surely not even her sister would dare to capture them.
Sapphyre watched as the earthmen pulled the boats ashore. The poor gnomes enslaved with enchantments that Emerylda had learnt long ago. Sapphyre knew that they missed their fiery home, Bism, a land of molten rock and after so long, they still were not used to the cold climate of Underland. They had been cheerful, joyous creatures once.
Sapphyre shook the thoughts from her mind and took flight.
Emerylda would speak with the Matriarch of the Frost Fae the moment she arrived at the Castle. And it would be Sapphyre's role, as it always was, to watch after the dark knight when her sister was occupied.
They could let no one outside their court see him.
Not until the enchantment had been perfected.
…
Rilian.
His vision was blurry, memories lingering in the back of his mind as he awoke. But he could not quite remember what they were, just out of his grasp. There were flashes, but each time he tried to focus on them they slipped from his mind as if they had never been there.
Memories, dreams of rolling hills and laughter and glittering halls.
People who wore smiles as if it were their natural expression.
But none of it meant anything to him.
He remembered nothing from before the time the Emerald Queen pulled him from the lake years passed. When she had rescued him.
The door opened without preamble, and he grinned, thoughts of dreams and not-memories cast far from his mind. There was only one person who would dare to enter the chamber of the Queen's Dark Knight without knocking first.
Sapphyre was fastening her cloak still, a pretty thing of dark blue that he very rarely saw her without. She did not look up at him until she had secured the small silver pin, and when she did there was a scowl upon her face, as there always was when she greeted him.
But his grin simply grew.
For in her eyes there was not hatred.
She did not speak, not immediately as she seated herself upon the chaise lounge, moving with the same regal bearing as her sister. Graceful and light, as if she would take flight at any moment.
"So, little bird, what are we to do today? Ride? Go boating? Swim?"
She rolled her eyes as she leaned back, outwardly relaxing. Surrounded by the dark cushions and quilts, she looked so bright with her copper curls loose (a rare sight, indeed to see them unbound from her customary braid) and her luminous eyes. Like the stone she was so perfectly named for. "Do you never get bored of doing things?" She asked, exasperated.
He grinned, more akin to a lad of five and ten than a man of somewhere near six or seven and twenty. "Never." He could not help it, there was so much around them to explore. Always something to do, and with company such as her, he would never wish to waste that time. In the weeks she was away, he was barely permitted to leave the Castle. "Perhaps we could spar?"
He watched as she raised a brow. "After last time? I do not think your pride could handle another shameful defeat."
And he laughed, the sound rising from deep within him and bubbling out.
One day.
He would beat her one day.
Even if it took another seven years.
She appraised him for a moment – those too bright, too sharp eyes, wide and thickly lashed. She was like a flame; he had decided long ago. Full of fire, so full of a warmth she tried to hide. So bright. But guarded. Always guarded. As if she did not trust him, not entirely. But those moments, those precious moments when she let her guard down made all the patience worth it. For her smile could light up the night sky, as beautiful as a star. "Do you wish to leave this place?"
He watched her, startled by the question, he watched the way her eyes darted to the side for a moment. Only slightly, as if trying to hide her curiosity. She wanted to know; she was not asking for anyone but herself.
"Not entirely, I wouldn't know where to go," he would her answer her honestly. "I remember nothing before the lake. When your sister saved me. There isn't anything wrong with the City. But I want to see more. I know there's more. Where there's light, and laughter. I want to go where you go, when I don't see you for weeks on end, when I'm forced into your sister's company."
A shadow crossed her face. Something dark and foreboding. And he wished it didn't suit her just as well as a smile did. "Perhaps one day she will let you leave." He guessed the comment was not meant for his ears, for it was muttered beneath her breath. "But not yet." When she looked up at him bright sapphire and indigo met, and her eyes were pained. She did not hide her emotions, not in that instance. "You can't, not yet. But soon."
"Is that a promise, my Lady?"
She smiled, softly. "I do not make promises so lightly, for promises should not be broken. But I will try my best."
And to lighten the mood, he grinned and lunged. Her eyes widened a fraction before he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder and against the wall where she landed in a perfect crouch. She raised a brow at him, a slight smile on her full lips, which disappeared when there was a knock upon the door and her sister swept in.
And then her sister was talking, her too-green eyes catching his own, the words meant only for him.
"Are you okay, Ril?" Sapphyre's face was so close that he could count the tiny freckles across her nose, her fingers upon his brow as if she had been checking to see if he was running a fever.
"What?" He hadn't been paying attention again, but he did not feel ill. He could not even recall what they had been talking about. Nor what they had even been doing. A quick glance around told him that perhaps they had been about to spar?
They stood by the weapons rack, though he could have sworn they were just in his rooms talking. And yet, in one hand Sapphyre twirled her own naked blade.
Ah, so she did not want to train with wooden weapons.
She never did, not like the rest of her knights who sometimes acted as if they were scared to harm him. "Are you sure you're okay to spar?"
He offered her a crooked grin, shaking his head of his confusion. He'd been having those moments more and more, perhaps there was something wrong with his mind. He took one of the live blades, for he was sure his own pretty, decorative sword still sat by his bedside. "Whatever you command, little bird."
"Simpleton."
She rolled her eyes as him and perhaps she was trying to stifle a laugh, for the corner of her mouth twitched, even as she turned her back on him in a twirl of cloak. Her copper hair was bound in a braid – near the same way she had done her hair day in and day out for the seven years passed that he had known her.
He watched her movements carefully. Nothing in her outwards demeanour betrayed weariness, save for the dark circles beneath her eyes and the paleness of her normally creamy skin. Where had she been sent this time?
He could not recall, but he knew it had been a number of weeks.
She had been by his side since she and her older sister had pulled him from the dark lake that their city looked over. The Sunless Sea, Sapphyre had named it. And even still he dreamt of the creature who had sought to drag him to its darkest depths.
She had saved his life, even when he'd thought himself in love with her sister – though that infatuation had passed quickly, so quickly that he'd questioned if it had even been real. But Sapphyre, she had stayed by his side, if not always her physical presence, for she had taught him many things. And always tested him to ensure it stuck.
She shed her cloak and twirled her blade once more.
Oh, she must have been planning to go easy on him.
"May your blade be as sharp as your mind," she said with a wink.
So much for going easy on him.
…
Eirwyn.
The Dark Castle had a strange design, the like of which the frost fae had never encountered before. Intricate details scrawled every surface of the underground castle – beautifully crafted. Otherworldly. Yet eerily lonely.
Empty.
The sun did not shine on the city of the woman who had named herself the Emerald Queen. The name was quite apt though, Eirwyn thought, looking upon the woman. She was beautiful in the way that Jadis and Arianna had been, a beauty that was not quite human, nor Narnian.
Her cheekbones were high, her eyes luminous and tilted at the edge like a cat, an emerald so bright and true it was as if the jewels themselves had made a home within her face.
Something quite other.
Though she knew that the cream-skinned woman was not one of Charn. She was long and willowy, but she did not look as if she could be descended from the giants. Eirwyn was quite sure she'd never seen anyone like her in her thousands of years.
From what world had she come?
And why?
"Welcome to my home, Your Majesty," the Emerald Witch said as she stood, her deep jade dress pooling around her like a waterfall, the silk slipping off her shoulders, peppering her body with soft, sensual kisses. Like a lover it hugged her body, it seduced the senses. Her unbound auburn hair rippled down her back; starburst pins of emerald and silver strewn throughout.
Eirwyn inclined her head. An acknowledgement.
Nothing more.
The White Witch had been just as beautiful, Eirwyn's own 'Ice Queen' even more so.
She would hear out the Emerald Witch. Her alliance with the Narnians had ended long before the Telmarines had invaded, when Arianna had gifted her the lands to the Far North beyond the maps edge where they could live in peace. The Great Queen had cast the Everwinter upon those lands for the final time, with Aslan's Blessing. And Eirwyn had no wish to embroil her people in war once more. They had everything they needed. Arianna, the Great Queen of Narnia was the only one she would ever follow. She had seen nearly as many years as Aslan Himself, and only once had she ever pledged her troth to another.
They had been all but forgotten, in that small wintery land.
Yet none gone entirely – they had faded from memory into tales to tell children. Though they were few hidden amongst the snows and the mountains, her people were still strong, their magic ancient.
And the Emerald Witch somehow knew that.
"I have seen the future, Queen of the Frost Fae," the witch stood with her arms akimbo, her eyes glittered with a strange light. "And I will rule. All those you are not with me are against me. It is your choice."
Still Eirwyn said nothing.
She watched her.
She saw the woman's true character. A serpent. An enchantress. She would do whatever it took to rule. Like Jadis, the White Witch.
She had followed only one queen in her life.
Known first as the Ice Queen, then as the Great Queen by the rest of Narnia.
She would not follow the Emerald Witch.
She would not subject her people to false promises and enchantments.
Long ago she had dispelled the notion that they were harbingers of ill news. She would not have that light cast upon her people once more.
"Be careful, Emerald Witch. Many have tried to take Narnia by force. I have seen what Aslan does to those who harm His children."
And she laughed, emerald eyes flashing with mirth. "I do not believe in fairy tales; no mere lion will stop me."
Eirwyn had been intrigued, by the two witches who shifted their forms as easily as changing their clothes. But she would not get involved, nor would she go to the rapidly aging Narnian King. She would leave the humans to their squabbles and return to the Far North. To her land of ice and snow and safety.
"I wish you the best, Emerald Witch," Eirwyn inclined her head, and though rage flashed through emerald eyes, the witch said nothing. "Perhaps it would be wise to look beyond the borders of Narnia for what you seek."
The Emerald Witch stood and for a fleeting moment the frost fae felt as if she might strike her. But she calmed herself, and even from a distance Eirwyn could see her nails piercing the flesh of her palms. "I hope I see you in the future."
A dismissal.
And with that she left the hall. Alone, for her attendants had not wished to enter the City. For they had felt the strange magic upon their arrival, the pervading sense of wrongness. It was a magic not of Narnia, and far too powerful. And barely controlled.
"Try again, Ril." The words were followed by laughter and the clash of metal against metal.
Silently she followed the sounds, to a place she could only assume were the training grounds for the queen's warriors. Circles traced into the hard-packed dirt that both pairs of feet seemed to be avoiding, to stay inside those rings.
She remained silent, hidden in the shadows as they sparred, laughing.
It was a dance that they performed – each able to read each other's movements as only those who had trained together for years could.
A man and a woman.
A prince and a knight.
A king and a princess.
She saw them both for what they were.
And for what they could be.
She would tell her attendants that there was a change of plans.
They would not return to the Everwinter. Not yet.
Perhaps there was more for them there than she had first thought.