Beneath the depths of the Sunless Sea.
2345.
42nd Year of the Reign of King Caspian X.
The Naiad, Reia.
It was a familiar kind of dream that had folded her within its embrace. She'd felt it many times over her hundreds of years and that thick, rolling fog was no stranger to her. A dream that was not quite a dream.
It tingled her senses, like magic-things were wont to do.
She could almost control it in a way that she never could in years passed, for now she had centuries of practice – coaxing and guiding.
Laughter.
Soft, abashed laughter flittered past her.
Echoing. Rolling through the fog, rolling through her mind.
It was a bubbly, joyous sound. The kind of laughter that made anyone who heard it smile.
A young knight, with eyes like the brightest of blue jewels and hair the colour of burnished copper. Laughing with her brothers-in-arms, all matching in their cerulean capes.
And then the fog shifted, it tilted. And as the fog cleared, and sunlight illuminated her vision, she did not recognise where her mind had taken her. But she knew in the way of the creatures of nature, that it was not her world. A beautiful city, unlike any that graced the lands of Narnia – but similar to the one they had begun to construct just beyond the shores of the Pale Beaches.
And then the different images flittered through her mind, the fog sifting and changing as if it could not decide exactly what it wanted to show her.
A beautiful, ethereal sapphire, taken from its home.
Pillars crumbling.
A city falling.
Sinking into the waves.
Screams, so many sky-shattering screams as jewel-eyed people clung to children and lovers.
A prince with eyes of the sky.
A queen.
An enchantress.
Narnia falling to ruin.
She saw the different futures unfolding one-by-one. Futures that could be, and futures that might not be.
But devastation ruled them all.
Such simple choices that had such dire consequences. She had learned long ago that she could not change such events, that she should not. But this time…
She awoke from her slumber; unfurling and stretching, deep within her cave. She felt the surface of her sea ripple. A boat. She hissed.
She would take the prince out of the equation.
If there was no option, there was no choice.
Then Narnia would not fall.
They would call her a monster, a terrifying creature. But she did not care; it was nothing she hadn't been called before.
The naiad of the Sunless Sea swam towards her target.
…
Harfang.
2352.
49th Year of the Reign of King Caspian X.
Emerylda.
Snowflake skittered beneath her, the mare very much on edge as they rode through the mists. The snow did not fall on the Ettinsmoor, instead it was a cutting rain that fell; a magical barrier the only thing stopping them from getting drenched to the bone.
There was a beauty to the eerie landscape – though unsettling – and she could tell why Sapphyre liked spending so much time above ground. If the giants did not align themselves with her, perhaps this would be the next land she would take. It would not be too arduous.
She had since past the Ruined City of the Giants, a remnant of the long gone Giant Empire. The city had been glorious in its prime, but now stood as nothing but a reminder that even the giants were not as indestructible as they seemed. Even their 'castle' was more like a great house made of dreary grey stone; it did not look like any grand seat of royals. For through the rolling hills and rocky outcrops, its sprung from the mist – standing high upon a crag.
The sleeping giants she passed without issues – the dumb creatures unable to even see her beneath her magical barrier. For it kept out more than rain, it kept both she and her horse hidden.
It was not until she'd made her way to the giant oak-wood door that she waved a hand and the barrier dissipated. No evidence it had ever existed saved for her dry riding gown.
It had been gone but a moment before the thunderous barking began beyond the door.
Dogs.
She hated dogs.
And then the doors swung wide.
The hall that was revealed towered above her head, with fires crackling merrily in giant torches. It looked exactly as she had thought it would – a far cry from the once illustrious city the giants had ruled in a time long passed.
The giants she passed looked at her curiously – not as dumb and mindless as Sapphyre would have had her believe. Some intelligence shone in their gazes, an almost-wariness. The ground did not tremble as they walked, but Emerylda felt their steps. She felt their immense size.
None stopped her as she followed the hall to wear two thrones sat. If one could call them thrones (they were little more than glorified dinner chairs) – for they did not even compare in luxury to the chaise lounge that adorned her study. The female who sat to the left was dressed in a gold gown, her golden-brown curls coiled about her head and secured with a net studded with rubies. Rings gleamed on each of her fingers, as they did not the hands of the male giant to the right. The male was large in more than one sense of the word – his heavily embroidered tunic barely containing his vast stomach.
The 'King and Queen' of the giants of Ettin.
'King' Titius and 'Queen' Haliria.
They wore perhaps more jewels than the pompous Narnian nobles. They are not what she thought they would be – she had seen the giants of Charn, beautiful and elegant and powerful. She had seen the giants of old as they were when they were ruled by Jadis – proud, terrifying warriors. The pale parodies before her were nothing in comparison, like overgrown children playing dress-up.
"A witch in our halls," the female chortled, fixing her with a cool gaze. "A very prettily dressed witch, in fact."
"We do not like witches," the man at her side said, barely lifting his head – perhaps he could not lift it under the weight of the ridiculous golden crown he wore.
"No, no, we don't dear."
Emerylda did not speak, not yet. Sapphyre had said they would be easy to control, that their minds were nothing superior that could stave off her enchantments, and looking upon the pair Emerylda knew her assessment was correct.
"To what do we owe the pleasure, witch?" The female, Haliria spoke again as the male dozed off once more. And then Emerylda noticed the chain she held – thin and gold, attached to one of the multitude of bangles she wore. A prized hound perhaps?
Emerylda bowed at the waist, still atop the pretty white horse. She knew she cut a striking figure, with her jade riding skirts fanned out over the horse's flanks, with her dark auburn hair coiled perfectly at her nape and with kohl lining her eyes in the way that made them look sultry. She would not use an enchantment yet. She would not need to. "My name is Emerylda, your majesty. I rule the city beneath these lands."
Hazel eyes narrowed. "Yes, yes. I've heard of you. They call you the Emerald Witch. I'll ask you again, what are you doing in my halls, witch?"
My halls. Not our halls.
Interesting.
"I will be frank, your majesty. I plan to march upon Narnia, and I wish for you to join me in doing so."
Hazel eyes blinked, and then a slow smile spread across the female's features. "And what would I get out of it? We have a sour history with witches you see. Long ago we lost a king to a witch's blade, even though history does not remember her as a king-killer. We do not forget. Nor do we forgive."
She gave a little tug on that gold chain and from behind the immense 'throne' a dishevelled figure stumbled.
"This one we caught skulking along our borders, trying to get in. So, tell me, pet, is she working her magics on me?"
And then Emerylda felt more than the dark-eyed gaze on her. She felt his magic, oily and slick, running over her.
"No." His voice was dry, emotionless and Emerylda felt something almost like pity well within her. Almost, for the witch had to be a fool to have gotten himself captured by the hapless giants.
"Good, good."
"I will help you dealing with the witches of the north who plague your lands," Emerylda did not look at the chained witch again, keeping her gaze upon the giant. "More than help you, your Majesties, I will get rid of them all."
…
The Dark Castle.
Sapphyre.
The flowers in the courtyard were blooming despite the snow that fell – pretty with their whites and blues, flowers made for the cold and the dark. Whilst they had their own beauty, they were nothing to compare to the bright, beautiful colours of the land above where the sun gave them life. The Heart could give them but a pale mockery of that.
Looking at those pretty flowers she remembered the dryads and her heart constricted.
They would be mourning still, in their gowns of white.
Their tree-father had been killed.
For she had told them to wait before giving the golden coins to her knights for tithe.
And by then it had been too late.
Sapphyre sat in silence. They'd spent so long building the castle and the city; and she wanted to do nothing more than leave. She wanted to feel the sun on her face, she wanted to feel the lively wind ruffling through her feathers. But she could not, she would not. Not when Emerylda needed her still.
"You seem to do quite a lot of thinking for someone who claims to simply follow orders."
It was the frost-fae. Of course it was.
Sapphyre did not let the groan escape her.
Ever-silent, Eirwyn had intruded upon her solitude, with that ever-sharp gaze and too-knowing smile.
"I never claimed to not have my own mind."
Eirwyn turned that blue-silver gaze on Sapphyre in its entirety and the woman could very easy understand why the frost-fae unnerved people so. They were something very much other – even in a land of magical creatures and talking animals. Something uncanny. And then the fae gave her a little smile as she sat on the bench beside her, folding her snowflake wings down her back like a dragonfly would.
"It is easy to forget just how young you are, Sapphire Knight."
"And you are old enough to judge me for that?"
Eirwyn chuckled. Offended? "I came into existence when the first snow of winter fell upon Narnia. Or I could have been the first snowflake. I do not remember much from those first years – but my wings were already grown, as was my mind when Aslan gave me my purpose."
Near as old as Narnia itself.
"Why did you stay in the city? You were leaving." She could not be bothered to mince her words, she could not be bothered with a battle of wits as much as she knew they would both enjoy it. The frankness was refreshing, it was freeing.
She saw the thoughts flit through the frost-fae's eyes. Debating whether to answer her abruptness with her own. "I saw you and the dark knight sparring," was it the truth she answered with? "Two from different worlds. It was something real I saw between the two of you – and I thought that if the two of you could connect that maybe the Narnians could learn to accept us as they never had before." Sapphyre could read no deceit in her face. "Sapphyre, you gave me hope."
Hope.
Sapphyre blinked.
"Sapphyre, you need to make a choice."
"A choice?"
Eirwyn fixed her gaze upon her. "You are too smart to feign ignorance. You cannot both work with your sister and go against her at the same time. You must make a decision before something forces your hand, before something takes that choice from you."
"I stand with my sister wholeheartedly."
Eirwyn's gaze flickered to the white flowers. "Do you?"
The dryads once more came to mind. Those golden pieces she had given them from her own coffers.
Sapphyre did not answer her immediately. She would not do her that disservice. She thought about the kind witch, Ardisia, that she had encountered; and the Narnian noble who had poorly disguised himself as a merchant. She thought of the witches gathering beyond the mountains, wondering if they amassed to go against Emerylda.
Why had she not told her sister their true numbers?