Title: Fate's Instruments
Author: fourthfireshadow
Language :English
Form: Multi-Chaptered
Genre: Romance/Adventure
Rating: T
Warning: swearing and lemons(later chapters)
Crossover: Harry Potter/ Narnia
Pairing: Hermione Granger/Edmund Pevensie, Harry Potter/Lucy Pevensie
Summary: When Harry and Hermione made an impulsive apparition to save themselves, the last place they expected to end up in was a magical other-worldly land called Narnia. What happens when the Brightest Witch of her Age and the Boy-Who-Lived had a whole other destiny, waiting in the shadows? Authors Note: ...I got nothing really. I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Sadly, no Edmione in this chapter, but Lucy appears so yay! Do not fret though, because Edmione is a plenty in the next! Please review, favourite, follow as usual!
Fate's Instruments
By-fourthfireshadow
Chapter v—When the second one is introduced
v)Hermione Granger—Reggie's Burrow
I could feel the nervousness brimming inside me, like a bouncing ball ricocheting by the walls of my mind, the confined space only making it bonce even more, with its end nowhere in sight. Since that chance encounter with one of the monarchs, the nervous buzzing in my ear and the slight lurching in my stomach hadn't stopped. I'm confident Edmund had figured it out; if not that, then at least close to a risky breakthrough.
It's only been three days since Harry and I had somehow apparated into this mysteriously new magical place called Narnia, where talking animals and humans and dwarves and other enchanted beings coexisted under the rule of five human rulers. Only three days, but it was three days too much. How did accidental magic like this even happen? And now that our magic wasn't working as it was supposed to, the situation was even direr.
It was curious, really, how I'd never stumbled upon even the slightest mention of this place. For a land as heavily saturated with pure, unadulterated magic, one would expect huge discoveries and massive paragraphs on dusty old tomes in the renowned Hogwarts library, but from all the years of research she had done extensively pouring over all the books I could get my hands on, not once had I ever seen it mentioned. Startlingly enough, Narnia seemed to amass more magic than Hogwarts itself, and that in itself was a frighteningly curious discovery.
Which leads me to my next theory; had they—read, Harry— unknowingly stumbled into another dimension? Was this a pocket of space they had unwittingly discovered? But it truly didn't make sense that there wasn't any record of such existences, since the Pevensie children were living proof that people from dimension A—that is, Earth—could and had successfully crossed over to this space, and if my assumptions were right, none of them were wizards or witches, or even any other enchanted beings; they were muggles. Of course, this was an assumption based on the fact that none of the tomes provided by Reggie ever mentioned the usage of magic by them; in fact, the assumption only grew stronger once I learnt that magic was seen as dangerous as it was the White Witch's main power—which didn't necessarily bode well for us, or more specifically, me, since I am a witch—but this proves that they weren't magic users since otherwise magic wouldn't be the taboo it was at this point in Narnia.
And the Mediterranean physical traits of the Telmarine race strongly suggest that these four weren't the only humans that crossed over. So then, access to this place wasn't necessarily magic.
It implies that, if my logic is right, then there are now infinite possibilities for different dimensions, wholly opening up a vast topic I hadn't even dreamed to fantasize about.
It also meant that Harry and I were trapped between an infinite number of worlds.
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.
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"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait." Hermione said, grabbing onto Harry's arm as he was about to stand up. "What do you think you're doing?"
Harry looked at her as if she'd suddenly turned daft. An annoyed scowl pulled at her lips at the look; as if she was the one who was about to rush into stupidity. "Do you…not remember what we just talked about?"
"Of course I do! But what do you plan on doing exactly? Do you even know?" Hermione snapped, raising an eyebrow at the incredulous look that passed his face.
"What am I—I'm going to talk to her about our situation, that's what. We don't exactly have a lot of options here, Hermione." He said, green eyes flashing at the grimness of the situation.
Hermione sighed impatiently at his answer. "Yes, but you can't just go in front of a royal and gab about our situation that way. Honestly, do you want to be killed? We may have an inkling of the rules and customs in this land from Reggie, but we don't know nearly enough to initiate anything! So why don't you just sit down and think about this for a minute more?"
"…But red riding hood's getting away!" Harry sputtered after a moment, however preceded to sit back down at the glare the girl was sporting.
"Think, Harry!"
"No, Hermione, I think we've done enough thinking! Listen, we've researched all we could—not that it did us a world of good or anything—but we know that these Pevensie siblings most likely came from our world as well; so it stands to reason that they're more likely to be sympathetic to our plight, isn't it? I mean, I'm sure they're not cold-hearted. Sneaky maybe," at this, he gave her a look that made her cheeks heat up a little, "but overall, I think they'd understand and help us. And that's what we need most right now! Help, because we surely don't know how to get back ourselves."
"…And also, if we don't do it now, then chances are, the bloke you talked to would come for us instead, assuming that he's figured out everything as you had. Do you really want to take that chance?" he said after a pause.
Hermione looked at Harry, eyes wider than they had been at his words; in the deepest pits, she knew he was right—they had no idea how to even go about this, they had a war to get back to, and wasting more time thinking may mean prolonging the war, and that was simply not an option. However, logically, she also knew this spelled trouble and true to form, wasn't she supposed to be the one stopping him from rushing into unknown territory?
And truthfully, that's what it was; uncharted territory. They were in another world, for Merlin's sake. This wasn't just randomly apparating to a different country or something; oh no, Harry managed to surpass all that and take her away to another dimension. How does stuff like this happen, anyway? But then again, she mused wryly, she had gone back in time before, so should this really be so surprising?
And Harry did have a point—she'd rather face the girl than Edmund at the moment, no matter if they'd have to face him again at some point seeing as he was one of the ruling monarchs a well.
At the desperateness shining through the green of his eyes, Hermione sighed heavily.
A smile immediately lit up his face as he grabbed her hand and stood up, pulling her along with him. She, however, had to quickly hold the edge of the table to steady herself.
"Careful! I'm wearing a dress, for Merlin's sake." She chided, frowning distastefully at the material floating around her legs. She simply couldn't help but think how impractical these were; how could a person be expected to wear this everyday like normal clothing? This was one of the things she truly saw no use for in this world—of all the worlds, they just had to appear in one that seemed to be stuck in the Victorian era.
"Sorry." Harry quickly said, but Hermione noted how he didn't really slow down, the annoying prat. Leaving a few of the coins the rabbit had given her for miscellaneous expenses on the table, she quickly followed, thanking her lucky stars she'd forgone a braid that day since she could let her hair shield her from the stares and glances she knew they were attracting. Oh, how she wished they didn't stand out as such! Or, more specifically, her. Harry could still pass with his hair. This hair of hers was never going to be useful in situations, was it?
"There she is! Let's go, Mione."
"What do you think we've been doing?" she grumbled, but picked up the pace as well.
The girl was near the centre square fountain, talking with what seemed like a mouse, Hermione thought bemused, but if the girl's tapping foot was any indication, then she was waiting for someone. She slowed to a stop, however, upon seeing a dark horse—most probably the girl in question's—shadowing her every move and watching everything around with steely, intelligent eyes. There was no question about it; he was an Animal.
Of course Harry didn't think it through and never stopped momentum with his quickening footsteps.
She just knew this was going to end badly.
"Er, excuse me, miss! I, that is, we—oof!" Harry sputtered in shock and slight pain as he fell on his backside, staring up at the now glaring horse with something akin to awe and bewilderment. The horse had robbed him of the view of the young monarch, completely shielding her. He could see the corded muscles beneath the glossy skin of the Animal straining in what looked like barely controlled rage and Harry gulped at the sight of his hooves right next to his person—the horse could very well trample him if he so wished it.
"Alright, Destrier, calm down. You've knocked the poor man down!" the girl chided softly, but the gentle hand placed on him directly contrasted her tone.
Hermione, on the other hand, was staring at the girl with slight disbelief.
She was…a child, really. Her big doe blue eyes and the baby fat still faintly lingering on her face certainly gave off that impression, and not to mention her height. Was this girl truly a monarch, or had they gotten the wrong person? But then, why else would the horse be guarding her? And if anything, this girl's appearance also made her stand out a little too much, maybe more so than them. She had fair red hair, blue eyes fairer still and was very pale. Not a Telmarine at all. But still…
However, when she turned her eyes on them, the witch couldn't help but be struck by the amount of sincerity plainly gleaming in her eyes.
"Are you alright? I'm terribly sorry about that. Destrier is very easily spooked by anything. He's quite paranoid, you see." The girl said with a teasing smile, her gaze directed at Harry who was now getting off the floor with a not so pleasant look on his face, but it was clear the words were directed at the horse, for the Animal only bothered to snort loudly at the girl and turn around.
Smile growing at his defiance, the girl turned back to them, a different light entering her eyes as she noticed them properly for the first time. Hermione knew she was appraising them quietly, and she could feel a little bit of that unease she had felt earlier tingle under her skin. The girl seemed to stand taller, the smile fading but still present, eyes looking at them in thought. Now she felt a bit more like someone with power, which just made her all the more nervous.
The eyes still emoted clearly enough.
"So? What is it that had you in such a rush then, good sir?" she said, her eyes flickering back and forth between them. Hermione quickly averted her gaze, and instead decided to stare at the back of Harry's head. This was all his idea, after all. Let him handle it alone.
It seemed like he got the clue, for he started to hesitantly speak. "Er, perhaps it…would be best to speak somewhere private. Er, you're, um, Majesty." Harry made an awkward action, almost bending down to a small bow, but appeared to think better of it and stopped immediately, leaving him in an entirely awkward position. The strange expression on his face certainly didn't make it any better.
Hermione resisted the urge to sigh loudly.
However, the child queen seemed to be amused at the display, she noted, as she breathed a tinkling laugh. She really looked quite pretty when she laughed, and Hermione could feel some of the tension slipping away at the apparent kindness on the girl's face. However, she saw how the girl's eyes had also widened gradually, a strange gleam in her eyes.
"You're…not from around here, are you?" she questioned softly, a twinkle in her bright blue eyes, "Usually, you are required to ask for an audience with the council, but I don't think you can wait, so now'll do, I suppose. Honestly, I was waiting for my brother, but it's alright since I can't seem to find him yet. We can go to the tavern a few spaces forward."
Hermione noticed the girl looking at her speculatively as she spoke the last bit, and she cursed herself for stiffening at the mention of her sibling. Now, she had no way of knowing if the redhead was speaking of Edmund, it could be the other one as well, but she couldn't help the involuntary spasm of her muscles; just the thought of the boy who played her so well made nervousness and indignation war within.
"Th-thank you." She finally spoke up; anything to get rid of that probing gaze.
"Hmmm," she hummed, a smile growing on her face as she looked at the tawny-haired girl. "What were your names again?"
"Oh, how rude of me to not introduce ourselves. My name's Harry and that's Hermione." The black-haired boy said in a more composed tone now that he saw she didn't really care for formalities much.
Again, the girl's eyes widened as they zeroed in on the girl introduced. Immediately her smile transformed into a smirk that was eerily similar to the one she was repeatedly subjected to just a day prior.
All that tension that had melted away reappeared just as fast.
How could I, even for a brief moment, think they could be very different?
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Susan couldn't believe that two thirds of her family had gone missing, gallivanting off to Aslan knows where. Lucy she could understand, as while they were inseparable, the youngest always seemed to think Susan would be wary of whatever that cunning mind of hers sprang up with next, and usually kept all her siblings save for Peter in the dark about her schemes and such, and in result, Susan was almost always never informed of her whereabouts from Lucy herself. It was sadly and annoyingly too common an occurrence now.
The Gentle Queen's eyebrow twitched; did the girl think of her as some dull old ninny? She could be mischievous if she so desired. Being cautious didn't prevent fun. As such.
However, Edmund not informing her of his whereabouts was actually surprising. This wasn't a really known fact as such, mostly because the boy was such an insensitive idiot sometimes with anything relating to affection and any synonyms of the word, but truthfully, Susan considered herself to be the closest to him. She knew the other two often dubbed their closeness to be a direct result from both of them suffering from the middle-child syndrome, and it could be a part of the reason, or the reason they'd bonded before Narnia, but it definitely wasn't the entirety of what comprises of their surprising dynamic now. There were quite a few reasons she could think off the top of her head, really—the fact that they both were usually the most rational during stressful situations, the fact that only they could trust to have the other looking at them in exasperation whenever Peter was in one of his moods and Lucy was being unreasonable, the fact that both of them liked to rely on facts than fiction, even if their lives at this point may sound like it, the fact that both of them were moved through literature, and knowledge made both of them feel powerful.
Or maybe at the core of it, it was the fact they were never the outstanding ones. They weren't the leader of leaders like their eldest brother was, and therefore were often left standing in the wake of High King Peter, The Magnificent ever looming shadow. They weren't the favoured Lucy Pevensie, The Valiant by the Great Aslan, they weren't people in whose blood belief and faith ran through diligently and unmistakably.
Or maybe, it could be the fact that they were the two who often felt the most human in this world they had only recently re-discovered. For some reason she couldn't really fathom, Peter and Lucy had taken to being back in Narnia and being royalties like a fish to water. There weren't second-guessed actions, and there weren't any small missteps; all their actions came from a sure-footed confidence that was seemingly ingrained in their every cell. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for her or Edmund, for the ever-dark thought of will we ever be banished again still lingered. That's not to say that they were to be undermined when it came to their own royal duties, certainly not. But essentially, no matter how toxic the base of the newfound bond was, it was these not-so-petty insecurities that made them turn to only each other. And now their bond had grown, exponentially so, that the ones they confide in were only each other.
And it was because of this that while Susan was surprised she wasn't informed by Edmund on his whereabouts—she had seen that familiar, dastardly, scheming look on his face, she knew this wasn't just some ordinary gallivanting, the cretin—she was confident he would come to her sooner or later.
However, she was still a little irate that he did so on this particular time of the day, when he knew he had a council meeting to attend. Susan knew Caspian and Peter must already be inside the council room, and now that Edmund wouldn't be present, she had to take his place. It was a rule instigated during the early months of Narnia's New Age, when the land had four out of time monarchs to take the mantle of royalty as well, that for every council meeting, King Caspian and two monarchs from the Golden Age have to all be present for the meeting to go forward; a rule to ensure equal power be awarded to all monarchs present with no oversight.
Usually, Susan never liked to attend such meets even though rightfully she was the one that was to be present when such discussions are held as she is the second eldest, as is the hierarchy; however, the blatant disregard and scepticism apparent in the Telmarine council member's eyes whenever she dared to voice her own opinion never failed to strike a heavily cloaked nerve in her. Unfortunately enough, whatever problems women faced back in her original life somehow seemed to reflect back here as well and it always distressed her and while she could take scepticism if it was directed towards her idea, she absolutely would not stand for it if it was because of her gender. Unfortunately, she knew it was. It was because of this that Edmund usually attended in her stead. Susan usually had no problem with this arrangement since Edmund would almost always inform her of the proceedings and take note of her opinions.
And now that that silly boy had run off with no prior warning, she was going to be late.
It could be argued that it was partly her fault as well for any disregard being thrown simply because of her as a monarch; Queen Susan, The Gentle was never known for her war prowess and strategical thinking and it was her mistake to keep it hidden behind ornately carved doors and instead project an image that reflected the very same title Aslan had bestowed upon her and truthfully enough, the same image wasn't really an image as such, if she recalled the memories stored of her fifteen long years of partial rule—because distressingly, she was exactly that then; gentle. She had never rushed into battle, preferring to stay back in Cair Paravel to hold down the fort, so to speak.
At first, Susan could remember how she'd fought with Peter about her being left behind while he rode off to shed blood for his country. She could also remember how frighteningly easy it was to get used to the position as a ruler she was unwittingly pushed into. And while that may have been an important role as well, Susan knew all of what she'd gone through while her siblings went off to the front lines were always glossed over, overtaken ridiculously easily by the battle-fed feats of her seemingly more brave siblings. Maybe it was this as well that made her bond with Edmund the most; both of them had complexes when it came to their siblings—his born out of trust and hers born out of incompetence.
Being brought back to Narnia and thrust right into the heat of a coup reminded her of those times those odd sixteen years ago, with the firm wood of the bow in her calloused hands and the ease with which her fingers would handle an arrow from her quiver, and it reminded her of how familiar such a feeling could be, flowing through her blood, thrumming right beneath her pale skin. It made her feel powerful, and on a sort of equal footing with Peter, now that she'd thought about it; something that was not at all common. That was why, this time around, she had started to take more of an active role in all the part-takings and activities of the country, to take upon more than the roles already assigned to her. She wanted to make a difference this time, more than to just be known for her penchant for high tea. Why couldn't a woman do both? Be both? Be a woman and be a warrior?
Susan stared at the hem of her beautiful pale cream gown she was donning, the bottom of it lacquered with soft lace and glistening gold, swishing fleetingly by her legs, the dainty material like the touch of a breeze by her eyelashes. She knew that the electricity was still simmering underneath, but now it felt like a thick woollen fleece had been draped over it without her consent, muddling it with unwanted bundled warmth. But she knew it was there.
She could be powerful if she wanted. Her icy eyes narrowed in contemplation; she could be heard if she wanted.
…Perhaps she ought to thank Edmund for his discretion; the council was one of the first things Susan should face head on to make her stand known and be respected by these simple men, and this was the needed push to do so. It wouldn't do so to simply push all her insecurities to her siblings, after all. And if all was pointing to the right direction, something unpleasant was looming.
She wasn't a little girl anymore; she was truthfully a thirty one year old woman, and this was a step in the right direction to making that known.
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Lucy Pevensie was a complete schemer behind her docile looks and large eyes, Harry would quickly come to realize.
Not only had she succeeded in rendering Hermione quiet after a simple question of her name, but that peculiar shine in her eyes told him she knew something about this whole situation that they didn't. The biggest pointer to this would be the fact that she showed only little surprise when the information that they were two people from another world was presented to her—information that normally would've garnered much more traction than that, he was sure. So, she was aware of this already, prior to meeting them most likely, which meant there was clearly something they were missing, something this little queen was keeping from them. Something that so clearly involved the both of them, probably to a high degree seeing as royalty knew of them. And that didn't particularly sit well with him.
Being kept out of the loop seldom did.
"I'm sorry, but erm, aren't you supposed to be a bit more reactive to this kind of news? Or do you get people springing up in your…er, country, every other day?" Harry questioned a bit impatiently, staring straight at her with slightly blazing eyes.
Lucy's smile faltered slightly at the edge in his voice, but then it returned full-force. "I'm just taking it in!" she beamed, "and to answer your question, no, we do not have people just springing about. That would be a right problem, wouldn't it?" At this, she directed a bright smile at him, which decidedly made him a bit uncomfortable.
At the silence from the two strangers, Lucy took it upon herself to begin talking. She couldn't help but become excited; she had found them, the ones the prophecy spoke of! Well, technically, Edmund had found one of them first, she mused thoughtfully as she looked at the older girl. She couldn't help but wonder how that particular meeting went. The youngest Pevensie suddenly grinned—not that well she reckoned, considering the amount of crumpled parchment she had chanced upon in his solar.
There was also another reason to be excited, however.
"…You two are from London, aren't you?"
"You know of it?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows, surprise, doubt and uncertainty clear from his expression.
"She's also from our world, remember?" Hermione cut in this time, and chanced a glance at the ever-smiling girl and continued, "and I must've been right when I deduced that Edmu—oh, sorry, I meant King Edmund,"—at this, Hermione's face soured slightly, as if the title as well as the name brought her unprecedented frustration, and it amused Lucy to no end—"was English from his accent."
"You guessed right. We all were originally from Finchley." She shared with a small smile, a fond but lonesome look crossing her face at the mention of her hometown. Harry felt a little sorry for her at the moment, but he couldn't exactly empathise with her not having seen her parents or her home for a long time; after all, his parents were dead.
However, as he looked at the slight glaze over Hermione's eyes, he knew she definitely could. Getting over a slight awkwardness he figured would probably never go away, Harry took hold of her hand and gave a reassuring squeeze. The answering smile was worth it, he reckoned.
Suddenly, the queen perked up leaning forward in a manner Harry reasoned was not queenly at all.
"I forgot to ask, what year is it there? Is it still 1945? I ask, because the last time we all accidently went back, only maybe a second had passed, even though fifteen years had passed here." Lucy said in a rush, her eyes growing wider in curiosity as she gazed at them as if they held the answers to all her unsolved and unanswered questions. In a way, Harry knew they did; how many sleepless nights must this girl, all the siblings really, have lost thinking about their own world?
Then again, maybe not that much since they already had abandoned it—their true home, their friends, their parents—once for a world they had just stumbled into.
But maybe they might've not been so unaffected as he'd previously assumed from all the fables and stories he'd read during research; it certainly seemed that way from the emotion swimming in her deep blue eyes. Maybe it was something he didn't know yet at this point—he of all people should know to never judge a book by its cover, after all. Harry could feel the beginning vestiges of guilt creep in at his assumption.
Guilt, as well as dread, because it certainly wasn't 1945 in their world.
It hadn't been for a long time.
Lucy's eyebrows furrowed as she took in the hard set of Harry's jaw and the way Hermione wouldn't even meet her eyes anymore, and she could feel the remains of her smile melt away into a resigned frown, excruciatingly slow.
"…How much time has passed? Truly?"
"…when we landed here, it was the year 1997." Hermione's hushed whisper reluctantly followed hers, but the silence that followed was deafening.
Lucy felt the air leave her in a rush, her eyes fixed at a spot above their heads. Suddenly, the empathy flowing from Hermione and the concerned tilt of Harry's eyebrows were a bit too much to take in, and the satin currently being crushed in her fists felt like water, slipping out of her grasp. 1997—fifty-two years had already passed since they've been in Narnia when only three had passed here? Logically, compared to the last time, that shouldn't have been possible; the math was all wrong. But then Aslan's words came unbidden into her mind.
Nothing happens the same way twice, dear one.
Truthfully, she wasn't exactly the family member that was closest to her parents. She'd never spent much time with them; no, those bonds were more potent between then and the two eldest, but that didn't mean she wasn't affected, and it certainly didn't mean she wouldn't mourn. Fifty-two years?
A shaky breath traitorously escaped her as she realised in dawning horror that her parents had to live that long without ever having known what exactly befallen their children, all four of them. Had they thought them dead, with no body in sight? Had they thought that they had simply run away? Were they hurt, angry, heartbroken, terrified? Had they raged, questioned, begged, resigned? Had they hurt beyond belief? Had they even lived normal lives or had she indirectly cause them so much grief that it was simply a life filled with sorrow? Were they even still alive?
Dear Aslan, was she an orphan now? Were they all?
Suddenly, Mathilde's—the strict yet not unkind tutor that was assigned to her and Susan—voice overrode the words of Aslan that were ricocheting in her mind, and she wasn't ever so glad to hear it, the old words of queenly etiquette drivel suddenly seeming like a lifeline to hold on to.
Now, straighten your shoulders dear, and keep your face straight, no, no, none of that hair should ever cover up your face, the queen's face! Hands gentle and loose, shoulders straight, yet not imposing, and face bright and clear.
And remember dearie, there may come times when emotions may threaten to spill over, especially for one so young, but you've got to remember that a royal must always considers others state of being before considering themselves. Selfish, and inhumane maybe, yes, but you have to realize that everyone here looks up to you, little one; you're one of their heroes, and as such, a slight chink in the armour is enough to demolish the entire façade, because truth be told, that's what royalty's supposed to project; an unbreakable façade.
Now wasn't the time to be thinking of such things, Lucy knew, not when the next two saviours of Narnia were sitting in front of her, both displaying varying amounts of concern and curiosity.
"…I truly apologize for my momentary lapse," she said, glad her voice hadn't betrayed her turmoil, "I beg for forgiveness."
But she was human.
"You don't have anything to apologize for, truly!" Hermione said, a bit scandalized at the thought that this girl, this queen, thought she had to apologize for feeling, "nothing at all. I…" she couldn't help but trail off after that; after all, what could one exactly say to comfort a person who'd just found out that they had missed about fifty-two years in their own world?
"Hermione's right," Harry picked up where she trailed off, his uncomfortableness mingling with pity and slight surprise, "You shouldn't apologize for your shock. You're human, aren't you?"
Lucy looked surprised as well at his words, but it gave way to a look of relief as she shot a small, trembling smile towards both of them.
Yes, she was. And certainly she was going to think about this later. Hours and months and years, maybe. But for now…
"However, I hate to mention it right now, but what we'd truly wanted to ask you—"
"Oh! Yes, yes, you were about to ask me something, that's right. I apologize; my…curiosity usually overwhelms me at the worst of times. But go on, what is it?" she replied in a slight rush, her voice straining a bit to cover that base of melted bitterness. However, at the look the two had exchanged quickly, Lucy could feel the beginning vestiges of anxiety pooling inside her.
"Narnia's been, well, lovely. Absolutely charming, but, er—"
"—We can't stay here any longer. We…we want to know how to get back to our own world, and was wondering if you'd be kind enough to help us."
Lucy's eyes widened at the question; of course, that's what they wanted, of course. Upon looking at the nervous and determined expressions flitting across their faces, she couldn't help but dread their futures. Did these two know why they were pulled into this world? Did they have any inkling of what awaited them? Did they already build up hope large enough to crush them when they eventually realised that they weren't going to go back to their own home any time soon, if ever? Was Aslan going to bring in two absolutely ordinary people to save Narnia again, no matter the consequences to their own future? Was He willing to let these people also sacrifice their normal, ordinary lives for something so dangerous? But then again, wasn't that exactly what happened to the four of them once upon a time?
No, Lucy thought to herself firmly; she must believe in Aslan, for if she doesn't put all her faith in Him, then who would?
He must've had a plan. He always does, after all.
But still, a sad smile skimmed over her lips as she addressed them, already rising to stand as she made her decision, prompting the others to look at her in confusion.
"I think you both should accompany me to Cair Paravel."
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