Chasing Hardships

"Don't depend your happiness on something you may lose"

-C. S. Lewis

Her pulse seemed to quicken each time his eyes met hers. Her hand tingled for his touch, twitching for the feeling of his palm brushing against it. Edmund, on the other hand, was utterly confused. He did not know what caused him to draw her so scandalously close. It seemed like instinct, or selfish desire chafing his integrity.

He still doesn't trust her, but he wants to get her trust. Maybe if she trusted him well enough, he could finally know the answers he wanted from her ever since she set foot in the castle. It was a plan.

Their movements on the ground during their practice were evident by the mounds of overturned earth. It throttled the last remaining autumn blooms. Tawny were the last leaves of the trees, and no longer were the branches encrusted with rich, cherry buds unfolding but rather they were lashed and raked limbs that resembled those of long, thorns.

Up above in the distance, just above the forests, the clouds were starting to form a loop in those parts. A wave of thunderous winds chimed in sobbing echoes. And Edmund knew that meant only one thing; winter was coming…soon. Probably the next morning after the forthcoming storm has passed. Not only did he despise the season because of the scars of the pasts, but also it was the most time Susan and Lucy (and a great deal of chamber maids) prepared the most joyous of festivals and the most crowded of balls.

He wished Lady Meira (and dozens of other noble women) had given his foot another good batter so that he may be well off the season's activities. If only he hadn't had run away the minute they started dancing. But he liked his feet. He didn't want to be crippled.

"Edmund, are you alright?" Calla asked in the middle of his thoughts.

He jumped back slightly. "Of course," he lied. "I should know. You look awfully pale."

"Its not like I wouldn't be. The stitches on my back are a little swollen, but Gyor's quite the healer you have. I think the soreness shall be gone in a day or two," she said. "But, if only you hadn't pinned me on the ground the entire practice, it would have been gone by now."

"That is mostly because you're the easiest opponent I've had for the last ten years."

"I was not!" She grunted as her heel dug into his gut. Doubling over, Edmund stumbled with both hands on his chest. Calla gave out a small cry before running to him worriedly.

"Edmund! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you," his shoulders were shaking so she gripped them, trying peer at his face.

When he looked up grinning, Calla stomped her foot. His body shook not with pain, but with laughter.

"You're impossible." She angrily told him. But her cheeks were hot from embarrassment. "I thought I had hurt you."

"Only my ego, Calla." He replied. "Fortunately, I can withstand a gentle kick."

She bit her lip with unease at the word gentle for she certainly hadn't meant her kick to be one.

"If it makes you feel better," Edmund continued. "I say you fairly have the makings of a formidable fighter, if you aren't already such an annoying little rat."

"Wait," she paused, arching an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"That you were an annoying little rat?"

"No," she snapped. "About me being a fighter."

"Oh," he laughed, though while trying quell his mirth. "Well, for a trifling one, I can see you have potential. Only you don't realize it because you don't consider what you're capable of."

"What I'm capable of? I can't even handle a blade. The only thing I know is what else I can not do,"

"Just because you haven't found your skills yet, doesn't mean you don't have one." He told her. "You'll find it one day." His words brought a smile to her lips. She definitely needed to hear that. It has been so long since she heard someone tell her something that lifted her spirits.

"Well, that is, if I happen to live that long." Calla bent down to grab the sword. "How is it that you're so…wise for your age?" She asked, "I've never heard things like you say. It's quite elusive to divine."

"It's quite simple, really," Edmund began as he picked up his own sword from the ground and sheathed it to the clasp on his belt. "You think of something foolish to say, and then you don't say it. That way, you're left to say only what is not foolish."

She rolled her eyes. "I suppose that does seem to put some sense together." Calla replied with a chuckle, clutching the hilt of the sword and extending towards Edmund for him to procure.

"Cheers to experience." He said as he grabbed his blade. He sliced it through the air into a broad arc, before placing it in the other clasp of his belt. Although Calla still wanted to be cross with him, she couldn't control her persistently recurring smile. "You're a strange person, you know that?

She perked up at that. "Well, it takes one to know one."

"Oh, but I make strange people look good,"

"Right, of course," she added with a brief cough.

"And the ladies can't get enough of me," he chuckled while she placed her hands on her hips. He was acting strange. Why was he acting so different?

When Edmund's long strides had already taken him near the castle, Calla let out a long breath of relief, glad upon knowing he won't be able to see the deep scarlet that lay flushed across her cheeks.

They soon parted ways when they arrived at the castle doors. Calla remained at the garden, sitting down on one of the wooden benches. Edmund slowly departed from her, but deep in thought, the lesson, the practice, and his face inches away from hers was still replaying in his mind.

"Ed! Are you even paying attention?" Edmund's head snapped in Peter's direction almost at once.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and peered at him. "Of course, Peter. You know I always do." He replied dryly. The map Peter was pinning down against the table was spread far and wide, along with a few pieces of chess sets they intended to use as country representations. They were discussing in the War Chamber, a place they always use ever since the possible Calormene attack.

"Then can you tell me your opinion about this matter we are discussing?" He asked his brother, turning his full attention to him. Edmund rolled his eyes as he sighed.

"Will you advise me first why in Narnia are you itching to prepare so early for the war? I thought you didn't want this in the first place." He reasoned. Peter glanced at the general, Oreius, who was actually the only other Narnian that was grim on paying heed to the High King.

"Our advisors feel we ought to be fully prepared for any contingencies," Peter glanced at the general, "What in Aslan has gotten into you lately, Edmund? You had always been so eager to discuss about these matters, nowadays you've hardly paid any attention to me." He told him while glancing at the delineations of the map, eyeing vulnerable locations and tactical routes to prevent the enemy country from setting foot into Narnia.

Nobody noticed the door opened, revealing Lucy peering through the door. Beside her ankle, was Bane, for the reason she needed the fox for some errands that is to say, known only to the Queen.

Edmund bit his lip. "I don't know. I'm not really in the best of moods."

"You always aren't in the best of moods."

"Peter, is it alright if I borrow a book from this chamber?" The High King craned his neck, startled to see his little sister.

"Now is not a good time, Lu. But you may grab a few from the shelf over there. Make it quick though, we're dealing with an urgent matter." Peter said, returning his vision to the three men in his room. But he was a little perplexed about why she was interested about books that contained nothing else but the histories and prospects of war.

Lucy muttered a yes to her brother; quietly shuffling her feet towards the shelf Peter motioned for her. Bane followed her, and he gritted Lucy's duffel bag with his teeth as she climbed on one of the ladders to procure her book. She brushed her hand through the titles, while the voices of the men beamed stayed mute.

"Go on, pretend I'm not here." She said, turning her back on them.

"Very well, Lucy. Alright men, take note of this discussion. I will need every plan you had from scratch." Peter stood up, both his hands resting on the rim of the table. "Right now, we have to prepare the possibilities in warfare. Our first principle is how we are to respond by the paths of their invasion." Edmund reeled himself around his chair, trying his very best to take part in the discussion.

"We would need first their point of invasion, that is, which route they will be taking so we may be able to know which border to defend." General Oreius pointed over to the grounds of Calormen. They had two options; they can attack from the sea, or they can choose to take the road.

"It is quite inevitable they would take the sea routes. Choosing the land would be much slower, and could tire the entire brigade." Peter said. He glanced once more at his brother, expecting a logical contradiction from him.

"Not likely, I'd say," Edmund countered, "It is possible that Calormenes can act as if to be attacking from the sea, and while that distraction is progressing, their land troops will ransack the unguarded flanks of Narnia, and may very well invade it without much difficulty." His answer earned him a nod from a satisfied Peter.

"That's quite observant, Edmund. So what do you propose we do?"

"As far as I know, we cannot let their point of invasion confuse us in protecting the wrong borders of Narnia. We'll have to prepare troops for both land and sea attacks. If we do, then we will not have to depend on the aid of Archenland."

"Edmund, our odds of winning this war without the help of Archenland are hanging by a thread." Secretly, Lucy could not help but listen to their conversation. The idea of wars and battle strategies seemed to fascinate her. She stooped down from the ladder after she took her desired book.

"Maybe we should prepare both strategies for land and by sea," Edmund suggested. "Calormen may choose to attack on both routes, with respect to the number of their company."

"By the number of our troops, we cannot divide them for a separate attack by land or by sea." Peter knew Narnia had a taskforce of only three thousand men, and Calormen had twenty thousand. Even with Archenland troops adding to their battalion would only result to six thousand armored men fighting against twenty thousand. We cannot defend our castle with that approach, thought Lucy.

Deciding her brothers needed her help, Lucy's voice dominated the entire room. "Our only defense is stealth, and the armor of the walls shielding our castle." She said, casting a gaze down on her feet. "They can and they will assault us by land, if I'm not mistaken."

"But I have told your Majesties they have the desert to cross if they were to assault us by land. He can never lead a great army even there even if they shall reach the ocean by the end of the day's march for the springs there will be far too little for their army's thirst and the rations far too little for their soldiers' feast." Oreius explained.

The Valiant Queen shook her head deftly. Bane set down the Queen's duffel bag, approaching the other monarchs with a very stiff curtsy. "If I may inform your Majesties, I have knowledge of another way."

"I take it you must mean the Western Way." Oreius concluded. Bane nodded.

"Yes, I do, for I have passed that way for as long as I can remember," He replied, sitting up straight. "He who will choose this path must start from the tombs of the Ancient Kings and ride northwest so that the double peak of Mount Pire is always straight ahead of him. And so, in a day's riding or two, he shall come to the head of a rock-strewn dale. If he who dares pass the narrow furlong continues to ride down, he will come to a river and can ride by the water all the way to a vulnerable passageway in Archenland."

"Vulnerable? You mean even Calormenes can have the upper hand on a battlefield that is not their own?" Peter asked, growing overwrought.

"Peter—" Edmund cut him off.

"What?"

"We have scouted the fields of Archenland many times. What he is saying could not be possible."

"Nay, Edmund. At this point, everything we could ever know could be possible." Peter told him. He then faced the fox. "Are you certain of this, Bane?"

"Affirmative, your Eminence,"

Peter buried his face into his palms, greatly bothered by the luck they had.

"Don't be troubled, Peter," Lucy began." We have more strategies against that country than you think." She lifted her chin towards the men in the room. "We all know they will attack in the wake of winter, and many of their troops have not experienced the harsh seasons of Narnia. We can exploit the prevailing weather, and use it against Calormen."

"Her Majesty speaks the truth. The Great Desert, in which Calormenes are used to, is nothing compared to the harsh winters here," Oreius replied.

"Calormenes think that many of our Narnian soldiers have departed to warmer woodlands and thus, have left us." She added. "So, their only chance (as they think) is to attack during winter; Narnia's most susceptible time."

Peter slowly nodded his head, absorbing the suggestion Lucy made, but the Valiant Queen was not yet finished. Lucy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"We can use deceptive tactics ourselves. We can manipulate the number of our troops and exaggerate the size of our army."

"That seems impossible." Edmund said, befuddled himself at how their number of three thousand can surge into twenty thousand, maybe more at what Lucy seemed to be suggesting. Lucy approached the table and took the pawn from Edmund's chess set they had been using to represent the opposing forces.

She guided the white pawn to the hoard of many other black pieces.

"A small force will distract and surround the enemy," Lucy said, letting the pawn knock off a few black pieces. She then took a 'Queen' and placed it from behind the entire armada. "While a much larger force will attack from the rear. We can use the weather, such as the rigid fog and the snow storms to hide our battlefield movements."

It seemed perfect for their situation. Truly, it was known that she had always been a very fruitful woman in reading. Lucy ought to thank Aslan a whole lot for the libraries.

Edmund placed his palms on his chin, amazed at how he could not have thought of that. Peter examined the strategy proposed by his sister; his little sister that he never knew had a gifted mind for warfare. "I'd say it was Napoleon who favored this battle strategy."'

"Napo Lion?" Bane asked. "Was he some sort of King? I've never heard of him."

"I think he was an Emperor, Bane, a military officer and an excellent one at that. Fortunately, when he opened war that included my countrymen, we had attained triumph and that man saw his last battle. I can't quite remember exactly what happened. I was twelve when I was last told of those stories."

"It should then be similar to this war. I have great trust of our army's capabilities," Oreius said. "Surely, our king has been trained sufficiently for countless wars."

"I hope I do, my friend. And our officers of cavalry have acquired a trick of galloping at everything. They never consider the situation, never think of maneuvering before an enemy, and never keep back or provide a reserve."

"Let's just hope its enough." Edmund said. "But I daresay it is the most feasible plan we've had so far. Archenland's involvement is yet to be needed. If this plan works, we have conquest."

"Yes it is. Lucy's right. We have the home field advantage if they will attack us from either route." The High King breathed, relieved to finally hear a solution. Even the General had to draw a long breath after his heavy contemplation on her proposal.

"By Jove, I have never thought a blasted woman could have thought of that." Edmund wasn't really bigot when girls, on special occasions, sought victory over him, but the fact that his youngest sibling has come up with a plan better than his seemed so patronizing. And he was the mastermind through hundreds of battle strategies.

"Very well, sister," Peter exclaimed, trying to be a good sport. "Then under these plans, we will fight and defend Cair Paravel. You are all dismissed." His head sank low, almost to his shoulders. Lucy nodded to her brother, and motioned Bane to follow her out of the room. "And Lucy?"

She spun on her heels. "Yes?"

"Where did you learn all that?"

"I've been living with people like you my whole life. It should not be a surprise that I become one," She replied as she swept into a curtsy. He stiffened at her answer, but how could she have known all that? He had always thought she'd turn out like Susan.

"And thank you, Bane. Your information will be considered strongly."

As soon as he turned to walk away, Edmund caught Peter's wrist, yanking him towards the window a bit far apart from the others. Peter had to stumble a few times in the process.

Edmund turned to his brother, who was but maddened at the surprising jolt. "Peter," he began. "How can you trust him? He might be a spy for all we know."

"Him?"

Brusquely, he answered. "Bane."

"Honestly Ed, what is your trouble with scarcely trusting anyone?" The High King folded his arms across his chest when Edmund drew a long breath.

"I've learned from experience."

"And I am certain that experience has taught you well, but that doesn't stand for the reason that you can go around believing everyone is a spy." Peter retorted.

"I'm trying to be careful, Pete. You know what it's like to have a whole kingdom depending on you. One wrong move can jeopardize everything."

"Heaven forbid, Edmund. Must you always make such things worse than it already is?" He yanked back his hand after giving him a stern glare.

"Don't you think it's quite odd that he is suddenly rendering his services to us?" Whenever he said, 'Don't you think', it always sounded like, 'It is what I think, and therefore, it should be what you think as well.'

"I know that this concerns you, but we have no choice but to consider everything we know." He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I need you on my side, Edmund."

He looked away. "I am, Peter. I'm just not on anybody else's." It was because at this point, he couldn't risk the safety of his family. He had once. But never again.

"I'll send a gryphon to aid your worries. We shall have him scout the Western Way to see any vulnerable routes." He said. Edmund's lips parted slightly.

"That should help." He whispered, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Now Lucy, who seemed to be vey satisfied of her herself upon knowing her contribution to her brothers, walked the halls with a slight skip in her steps. Her bright blue eyes shone and had a little twinkle in the swirls.

"I was wondering if I could trouble your Majesty to slow down just a tad," Bane panted, hoping to get Lucy to face him.

"Oh! Forgive me, Bane. I appreciate your help. It's just, I've never asked anyone so many questions. Thank goodness you've answered them." Lucy said, realizing how briskly she had been walking that Bane had to increase his pace to keep up with her.

"Well, anything for her Majesty."

"You may go now, if you wish."

"Thank you, my liege," he bowed. As soon as he departed, she continued to walk down the halls quite merrily.

But somewhere, as she passed down a few doors, she heard a voice. But what it had to catch her attention was that it was sobbing; the kind where the breath would hitch after each cry, and where it had a few puffs on the nose.

The Queen opened the door, and as soon as she laid eyes on the person who was crying, she gasped in surprise.

"Prudove?" She exclaimed, peering her eyes at the russet haired princess lying on her bed. Prudove immediately turned her back from her, facing the window and wiping her eyes very niftily. She tried to stop sniffling, but it made it all the more difficult to stop. She then buried her face in the pillow, hoping Lucy would think she was still sleeping.

"I know you are awake, Prudove." She said, trying to pry the pillow away from the princess.

"Your Majesty," She said, trying to make her voice sound bold, and not trembling. "I'm sorry; I wasn't expecting this visit from you."

Lucy took a step nearer and sat down beside the princess, who refused to look at her with her reddened nose and eyes. "Will you tell me first why in Aslan's name are you crying?"

"It doesn't matter," She replied, holding her handkerchief close to her nose. "I have no right to complain or find fault in the duties I did for the sake of our kingdoms." Now here, Lucy realised she desired to indulge in matrimony no more than Edmund did.

"But Prudove," Lucy protested. "Your feelings do matter. If they didn't, you would have little or no compassion for your people that would make you marry someone you don't know."

"I just don't know why it has to be me." She said, taking her handkerchief away. "Don't I deserve my own life and not being forced a wedding against my will?"

"Everybody does. Things just work out very differently from the lives of others." She told her. Prudove looked at the Valiant Queen, her eyes greener than ever.

"But why is it that I have everything pulling me back?" She insisted.

Lucy prayed to Aslan she would find the right answer to her questions and help show Prudove everything was still all right, that the Lion is always bound to her. Her eyes drifted slowly to a painting of Susan prodding an arrow, eyes narrowed to focus on the aimed target. She thanked Aslan for answering her prayer.

"Its similar to archery," She suddenly said. "To release an arrow, you have to pull it back, and when it's at its farthest, you let it go. Then your arrow is bound to hit the target you're aiming for. Prudove, when everything is pulling you back, that means when you choose to let yourself go, you are bound to something you're destined for. Something greater than you could have imagined."

"I-I'm speechless, my Queen. Your words are unlike any wisdom I have ever heard of," she stuttered, amazed at the prudence of someone younger than her.

"Those words come not from me, but from the Great Lion Himself. He taught me all that I know."

"Truly. I just hope I can find the courage in Him it make it through this."

"You can and you will. Everything will be fine. I promise." She said, patting and rubbing her hand. Prudove almost did not believe, for Lucy was always a happy woman, and never was the time she had become ill towards people or people ill towards her. She could not know how a princess being forced to spend eternity with someone she does not love is such a crucial responsibility.

"Your optimism is truly uplifting, my Queen. And I thank you," Prudove said with a little sob. "But I only want to marry someone who loves me for me, and not because they have to." At this point, she began weeping once more and fell into the arms of Lucy.

The Queen started brushing Prudove's hair, trying to quell her anxiety. Eventually, the princess' breathing slowed, and the hitching had died down. Soon, when Lucy realized she was finally sleeping, she crept out of the bed and turned the knob slowly.

"Lucy?" She rubbed her eyes, ready to ask her something one last time before she leaves. "Are there any chances that your cordial can also heal a broken heart?"

Lucy looked at her harder this time, her nose wrinkling at the thought she had never given. Prudove forced a smile, addressing her silence. "Well, if you will one day know the answer to that question, let me know," she said.

"You'd be the first." Lucy replied, shutting the door behind her.

Has it been four weeks? I am terribly sorry. I was on vacation (I still am) but I am trying my best to keep up with a ton of fics I have missed and promised to review.

Well, the summary promise has been broken. Forgive me.

About Edmund always acting so much like a worrywart, I think he's always like that since he doesn't want what happened to him at ten years old happen again. Well, what do you think?

-DawnD