Chapter Nine: Thy Will Be Done

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~ England, Hendon House ~

Peter sighed. Momentarily he closed his eyes. They'd been gone from Narnia for three months, yet it felt as if a lifetime had passed. No, it felt as if lifetime after lifetime was slipping through his fingers, and he was in agony because he could not slow them to enjoy the ages. The anguish rose bitterly in his heart and tried to consume him. He grappled with it, holding it at bay, but the struggle to keep from giving in was difficult, and made him so, so tired. He was coming close to giving just anything to make the demons lie silent. Lifting his head from his knees, Peter continued to watch the sunrise.

He had climbed up the attic stairs and then braved the perilous expedition to the roofwalk atop the school to renew this old habit. He had decided a while ago that he would take part of the early morning hours to remember; Aslan was right, but He was always right; to love meant pain for a season. A soft smile came to his lips as his thoughts drifted to Amalia. He wondered how, because it seemed so hard, he could heal; perhaps. . .

What had become the most depressing was acceptance. To learn to cope with the fact that he would never be treated with any more respect than the next human being; that he would be one man among many and no longer a king of a great people, servant to a great god. He could not understand how it had been so simple for Susan to assimilate; she made it appear effortless in a way that earned his jealousy. She had slipped into Narnia and then seemed to glide out of it.

Peter did not think he could do so with any lightness of ease. It was too difficult; there were too many memories, too many things lost to ever recover from.

He scowled bitterly; why was everything always so hard for him? Would this ever get easier, or would he always long for Aslan, for Amalia; for his true home? He had no answers, and felt that even if he tried, there were none to be sought. How had Amalia handled their disappearance? Had she wondered and question, or had she gone on; having greater hope than he that she would see him again? Oh, to not know was a burning agony in his chest!

The sun came up fully in the distance, over the chimneys and spires of churches and buildings. Just as in Narnia, it rose up to signal the coming of a new day rife with dangers and trials that had to be faced. At times how he loathed it! His siblings had never understood why he liked to think over matters as the sun rose, and he had never bothered to disclose the reason.

How could he tell them that the sunrise was his biggest fear?

Surely they could hardly be expected to comprehend! And yet . . . he wondered. Mightn't they have understood his fears if only he'd allowed himself to be more open with his emotions? All those times in Narnia, when the sunrise had been the omen of grim tidings: the news of Aslan's death and that an army was waiting to follow him into battle. That sunrise had taken him from ignorant boy to perceptive young man who realized that war was sometimes necessary to protect what you believe in; just like this war with the Germans. Irrevocably changed; you could never go back. He knew this after everything that had befallen him, both tragic and joyful.

Lately, he'd taken to going on a pilgrimage to that small chapel hardly noticeable between the publishing house and the apartments over the shops. He was finding that things they said and things that had happened in Narnia were curiously correlated. Aslan's death and Christ's death; hope even when you couldn't see; love and justice when it seemed nothing better could happen. He marveled at it as he would've as king of Narnia. It made him feel closer to Aslan, in a small way. Perhaps, he thought, he needed that.

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~ St. Finbars School ~

Lucy paused in gathering her things. Was Susan enjoying her time in Narnia? What was she doing this moment? Talking with Caspian, dancing at a ball, or had time completely passed and she was a grey-haired queen like they had always wondered about and wanted to be in days of old? Did she have children or grandchildren about her feet and sitting in her lap as she told tales of her days as Queen Susan the Gentle of Narnia?

Oh, how she wondered! Ever since Ed had come to her with the message from Aslan to Peter she had dreamt of Narnia and all that had taken place there; especially all that was yet to take place now that Caspian was king. They had been so simple, Aslan's words for her, and yet they made her tingle with thinly veiled excitement.

"Lucy Pevensie, would you get on? I will not be late because you have taken off to daydream land again!" Jemima Windsler, one of the girls Lucy had befriended during the months here, scolded from the door, motioning animatedly when Lucy jumped and looked to her. She gave her a pale, fleeting smile.

"I'm coming!" She dared another glance out the window as she rushed from the room.

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~ Narnia ~

It had been hardly three days since the attempted assassination, and they were on edge. Around them, the lords argued about what to do to better protect their monarchs while Caspian shared a glance with Susan. With reluctance, they had confided the matter to the Council after consulting Cornelius and Trumpkin; both of whom agreed it was best for all that the Telmarines be privy to the matter too. Now they sat amidst a hailstorm of oaths and arguments waiting for a moment to interject their proposals.

Another distressing complication that was indeed little relished was Calormen's declaration of war. Any Narnian or Telmarine found within the vast borders of the southern empire would be captured and held hostage as a prisoner of war. All, both Narnians and Telmarines, agreed it would be futile to send an ambassador to the southern empire. Susan glanced at Caspian and found that he was looking at her. Her gaze belied her calm composure. Suddenly, he turned away from meeting her eyes and stood roughly.

"Silence!" he thundered, earning a startled hush from the men around him. Even Susan straightened from surprise in her chair, her eyes turning to him. She had never heard him reprimand anyone in such harsh tones of ill-contained wrath.

"I have grown tired of your relentless tirades! You make me ill with your mock concern for me; I have begun to doubt all who stand before me. Some among you are traitors, though you talk of protection and my life as if it were your greatest care! This Council is dismissed." He turned away from looking at them, his eyes finding Susan's.

She looked passed him at the room, and he glanced over his shoulder. "Be gone!" He whirled abruptly, motioning to the great double doors. Uneasily they filtered from the room, glancing at him with wary eyes. With a sigh, Caspian dropped into his chair, covering his face with his hand. He did not know how to fix this. But he had not lied to the lords; the vileness of at least one of them was so great that they feigned concern for his life.

A hand rested on his knee. He looked into Susan's smiling face, but did not have extra strength to return her comfort. These past weeks had exhausted him. He felt as if he were seeing things from behind cut glass, or that he was gazing into another world; it did not seem as if this could be his life, and yet it was. Slowly, he reached out, brushing his fingers against her dark hair. She reached up, pressing his hand to her cheek as she kept her clear eyes on him.

"Aslan is with us," she murmured softly from where she sat at his feet. He studied her, taking in the golden circlet in her hair and the dark Telmarine gown she wore; her fair skin and dark locks, clear eyes full of hope and comfort.

"I cannot see Him," he whispered faintly in reply, grieving honesty in his dark gaze. He watched tears fill her eyes, beading her dark lashes as she attempted weakly to hold them back. They trailed slowly down her face, onto his hand that she held against her cheek.

"He is here; He must be." But uncertainty shadowed her beautiful face, and he knew she doubted too.

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~ England ~

"Peter, please, won't you come for a walk with us? It could be like the old times again!" Lucy cajoled. Edmund was by the stairs, leaning against the corner, watching her beg in front of a door with a strange expression on his face, as if he were lost in his thoughts yet still conscious of the world around him. Suddenly, as Lucy leaned her hand against the door to hear if Peter was even awake, it flew open and her brother stared down at her.

"Lucy, nothing can ever be as it was; don't you understand? We will never be the same again. Please, stop trying to make me continue on as if nothing has changed; I cannot. How I wish you'd come to terms with that. I must; Aslan has given me no other way. Bless the Lion you haven't been forced to endure this pain," he finished, leaning tiredly against the door frame, blue eyes full of weariness.

"I wish you could tell me, Peter, what's wrong; please, come with us. If not to try to remember the past, at least for old times' sake," she pleaded, her expression mirroring one he would not soon forget; it was the same look she had coaxed him into playing hide-and-go-seek with. He could not forget that rainy summer's day. It was burned into his memory.

"All right, Lu." Slowly a smile slipped onto his face, and he shook his head a bit. "I couldn't deny you anything when you looked at me like that."

"Oh, good! Edmund's waiting by the stairs; I'll go tell him you're coming!" She dashed off happily and he watched her go, gazing after them as she spoke with Edmund and then they proceeded to descend the stairs to the first floor of the dorm.

Now that they were out of sight, he leaned heavily against the door frame, an anguished sigh passing over his lips. Each morning he struggled to gather strength to cover ground, to make it to the end of the day. To keep going felt as if it would kill him. Slowly, he knew he could adjust and come to terms about Narnia, but he did not think he would ever rest easy knowing he had abandoned Amalia to face whatever came alone. It tore at him and refused to be silenced. He knew he had no control over the matter, but the guilt raged on endlessly.

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~ Narnia ~

Caspian lay in bed with his arms folded over his chest, staring across their bedchamber at the wall. Candles burned on tables or stands scattered about, and Susan watched one flicker in a light draft from the balcony as she rested her head on Caspian's shoulder. They'd been talking while she sat at her dressing table and took down her hair and braided it loosely for bed; speculating on what could be done with the Calormene, and, either before or after that, how to pacify the Giants. They'd reached not a single conclusion, and now Caspian's direct gaze appeared determined to burn holes in the tapestry hanging from the wall.

"When I was little, my mother would tell Peter not to stare so intently else he'd go cross-eyed. So stop that!" She smiled slightly, tugging a bit on his loose shirtsleeve. It had been difficult, trying to keep him in good spirits; what she couldn't give to have her mother here to advise her on what to do! She'd always seemed to know how to keep their father hopeful before he was recruited, because his education as a mathematics professor, into Intelligence for the war.

"I'd rather rip holes in the dreadful needlepoint and burn it than stare, so be contented with that," he replied shortly, a low sound of frustration following his words.

Susan sighed in vexation. She lifted her head, sitting up in bed beside him. "Caspian, you cannot keep on like this; yes, I know how trying this ordeal is, and I know how difficult it must be for you to be trapped between all these walls of politics, but brewing over them for hours on end will not help you make them any better."

She reached over and tugged one of his hands up, forcing him to uncross his arms. Thoughtfully, she laced her fingers through his, watching as he returned the pressure of their linked fingers. Her eyes lifted and their gazes met. His was stormy, full of restrained anger and impatience. She hoped hers held an equal amount of serenity.

He sighed at last, bowing his head and momentarily studying the sheets before looking back at her. "It's just. . . Susan, this is a war I have no quarrel in. No reason to fight. It's a war for wealth and power and control. I have never cared for such things; I only fight for what is right and true. Giving your people –" She gave him and look, and he smiled fleetingly, "our people– back their land and restoring uprightness was something I believed in; it gave me something to go to when I questioned my actions. I have nothing of the like going into this war. It's only a battle to discover who the more influential man is." He looked away from her, his dark hair falling so she couldn't see his face.

Susan thought about what he'd said as she looked at him, and realization hit her. She was reminded of something Lucy had said once when the younger queen mentioned not wanting to venture to Calormen.

"You have no dogs in this hunt." She gave a grim little smile to herself, but quickly discarded it when he turned to look at her again.

"What?" At first confusion filled his eyes, but they cleared and he nodded slightly. "Yes, I suppose. . ." He cut off his question, understanding her phrase.

"I see." She brushed her thumb absently across the back of his hand. Sometimes, she wished she didn't have to see so easily and quickly; she wished that Caspian did not wear all his emotions on his sleeve; his anger and pain and fear and sorrow. It was difficult in times like these.

"Yet I must still assemble an army and ride at its head. No matter what I say, I must wage a war I have no desire to!" His voice rose in rage when he mentioned what they had been discussing about mobilizing the military.

She swallowed, looking at him pointedly as he heightened his tone.

"A king does not reign because it is easy or comfortable for him, Caspian. Very often, they must do things they have no wish to– protect someone's honor though it may cost them their life," her voice changed as she spoke, but she carried on, "Fight wars they wish they didn't have to participate in. A man is made king because he is capable of leadership and understands some will only heed him through his use of the sword instead of use of the tongue." She now turned her head away from him, though she kept his hand in hers.

Caspian looked at her, hurt shadowing his dark eyes. Hurt for what he had said and the carelessness with which he had uttered his words. The confusion and anger had not abated; merely blown over for a time until the clouds gathered again. Nevertheless, he felt remorse largely. "I am not being an equitable king; I'm being senseless and rash, aren't I?" He hoped she'd look at him again, and after a moment, she did.

"Oh, very much," she murmured, inhaling a shaky breath. Edmund and Peter had mentioned the audacity and anger of Telmarine people –particularly in the royal family– when they had been kings and queens growing up the first time around, but she had never realized just how true her brothers' words had been until now, since she'd married into that family.

"It is so difficult when I wish things would go one way and they seem to be crumbling around me instead. I haven't much patience, I know, and I fear I never shall. But I will try, as long as you wish and as hard as you wish," he declared, looking into her eyes. "I have become so preoccupied with this nightmare that I fear I have not been the most attentive of husbands. Your brothers would not be pleased," he decided, allowing a small smile.

She returned the smile, gratitude showing in her eyes. "I find little to complain about, except your attitude towards this mutiny of the ranks; and the way you stare at Queen Dolores' tapestry as if you wish it would burn!" She let out an amused giggle, and he chuckled himself, glancing at it over her shoulder.

"You must admit it is dull," he coaxed.

"And plain," she replied, soft laughter escaping her again.

"Boring too, you know." He lifted a dark eyebrow in mock seriousness, though he couldn't wipe the smile from his face.

"All in all an atrocity that is part of your history," she reminded quickly, trying not to ridicule the piece of Telmarine stitchery too badly, however much they wanted to.

"Might I be forgiven?" He changed topic, looking at her with an uncertain expression that she found charming.

"Yes." She nodded graciously, as if she were bestowing some sort of knighthood. He chuckled, closing his eyes and tilting his head down as he tried to suppress his merriment. Too much noise and the soldiers stationed outside their door would wonder if something was amiss.

"A kiss and all should be resolved; at least for tonight," he insisted, to which she smiled until she realized he was not speaking in jest. She leaned forward, and he put a hand on her face, gently cupping her cheek. His eyes momentarily searched hers, and then he kissed her, moving her hand until it rested on his shoulder. She slid her other hand up his arm, slowly weaving her fingers into his hair as he leaned back.

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~ England ~

"Come on; catch me if you can, Eddie!" Lucy laughed brightly, looking over her shoulder, blonde-brown hair flying in her wake, as she watched her brother chase her with a grin across the brown grass of the park near their respective boarding schools.

"I'll certainly catch you; I'm the faster!" he replied, his own laughter echoing in the afternoon air.

Not far away, Peter watched them as he leaned against a tree. They had such great hopes to look forward to in the future. They had the promise of returning to Narnia, Aslan had said so; he had been given next to nothing. Perhaps to a vain person, getting to live your life over again could be seen as some wonderful blessing, but to him, it was nothing short of a curse. A curse he could not prevent, nor did he even know of until now.

To be left without even a glimmer of hope was nearly destroying in and of itself. One can only go on so long without the knowledge of hope. Faith in anything is the byproduct of hope. One cannot have faith if the light of hope has dimmed and gone black. Peter would have to find the hope he had left behind if he was ever to renew his faith in Aslan and Narnia.

But how can one find hope in such a land of nonbelievers and worldly people, who have never known what it was like to deliver a nation from darkness or the threat thereof? To know and be known by those you loved; who you served and who served you? This was the true quest that Aslan had prepared Peter for by allowing him to come into Narnia. One can easily believe when everything is merry and you can see Aslan going on before you, but to be without a visual guide? That is the true test.

Peter didn't yet know, but Aslan had done all these things so that he could be a stronger, better person. But the road to such unending belief is littered with temptations and stones; if you look to a temptation and you stop watching where you're putting your feet, you shall stumble. Faith is not something one can achieve by a single act, but by continuous falling, getting back up, and having hope that someone greater than yourself knows and will help you be healed from this new wound. That is and always, will be Faith.

A/N:

The title comes from the song 'Thy Will' by Hillary Scott & The Scott Family. This chapter largely stemmed from that song. (At least the rewrite did.) It might not seem to have much of a connection, but to me there is significance. The lyrics of the song actually fit this chapter; in fact, they fit this whole fanfic very nicely.

Now: thanks is in order to all who Reviewed and who have Followed this story and Favorited it! :) Thanks guys, for checking out this story and bothering to do any of those things! And if anyone from the original is out there reading this: you know who you are, can you believe how much this story has improved?

Ya'll know what to do! ;) Happy reading,

WH