Hello! This is a rewrite of my old (and first) story 'Change of Fate'. In this one, we'll get to follow Adeline's journey more closely, with and without the Pevensies. We'll also get to see more of how her relationship with Edmund and the other Pevensies developed. I've also changed some events. While I have no idea how long the whole story will be, I hope you enjoy this version! Leave a review and let me know what you think!

She studiously ignored the drops of red as they tainted the white beneath her feet. How long had she roamed in the snow-cursed kingdom, without finding what she so desperately sought? She could no longer recall. Her orders had been clear. Await the signs of spring, seek the place of prophecy. However long had passed, it was becoming dreadfully clear that the fire-flowers resting in her pocket were no closer to blooming then is it had been when it had been given to her. Silently, she contemplated using it to bring forth the juice needed to make just enough cordial to heal her wounds. She had the components necessary and was fully capable of building a fire to last long enough for it to brew. After many a lifetime of battles, she was growing weary. The Witch of Charn had many allies, many defected Narnian swords at her side. Swords that, no matter the age and experience of their targets, cut deeply upon contact with flesh. Glancing around, she allowed herself to seek refuge from the snow. A place where she could make fire, rest, and heal. Her father's fire-flowers were nought but medicine, unable to guide her on her quest in spite of the assurances she had been given.

Before she could find a dry enough burrow, something unexpected swept through the icy winds. Rather than the sharp chill that had started to creep to her bone, there was a familiar warmth and safety lingering in the breeze. It reminded her of rain in the summer and sandy shores illuminated by the first rays of the sun. Gently, she pulled the fire-flowers from her pocket, staring at them as the petals slowly came to life and tickled the palm of her hand. Around her, the trees started whispering amongst themselves. Birds, friends and foes, sang a song, instinctively and beautifully, forgetting the animosity which laid equally as thick in their hearts as the snow on the ground. Perhaps her father's hope for spring had not been as hopeless as she had always thought. Still, she needed to rest and recuperate before she began her journey. Happening upon a bare spot beneath one of the many, ancient evergreens, she swiftly lit a small bonfire and set to brewing her cordial. It would not do to traverse treacherous forests for many days without full health and strength.

Come morning, the first thing she noticed was the warmth. Not only in the air, but also in the colours surrounding her as the sun shone brighter than ever in the sky. Her wounds had healed overnight, aided by what little cordial she could produce. She only had one fire-flower left, one to be used as a means of identification upon arrival at the place of prophecy. Without waiting a minute longer, she packed up and left. She had many a step to take before she would reach her destination and no time to waste in doing so.

She only stopped twice to rest in the week it took to reach the encampment. When she finally arrived, her father was alone with the exception of a group of centaurs. Approaching him, she fell to her knees at his feet and placed upon them the last fire-flower. "Father," she greeted reverently, "Forgive my inquiries, but where are the others?" A great, golden paw came to rest on her shoulder as his breath fanned over her face, ridding her of the cold still weakening her. She could not help but smile affectionately when a small bundle of snowdrops peeked out through the snow in front of her. Her favourites.

"Others will come, Daughter," the Great Lion replied, "You must rest now, for your task is not yet over." He watched as she stood, gold meeting gold as their eyes locked. With a bow of the head, a sign of respect that would have greatly displeased any other ruler in its shortness, his child walked away. She retained many of his leonine traits, even though she most resembled her mother. Born to him and one of the first humans to come into his own kingdom, she appeared so much more human than she was. The gold of her irises, the silent steps she took, the wildness of her hair. She had that from him. Her magic came from him, however slight it was. "Adeline," he called, waiting until she turned to face him before he continued, "It is good to see you well."

Adeline nodded slowly, once again with an affectionate smile. "I could say the same for you, Father." She left him to raise her own tent. If her father was right in saying that others would be coming, there were was much left to prepare. In the centuries since the Witch claimed the Narnian throne, all wars had ceased. Battles between the different sides had occurred but they were nought but skirmishes in comparison to the great war looming in the far too near future, and the soldiers gathered were not yet combatants, not yet skilled in the arts of strategy and warfare. It would fall upon her shoulders to teach them.

Late that night, she sat outside her tent, carefully sharpening and polishing a long, silver dagger. It shone brightly in the vast moonlight but her eyes were blind to its splendour as she contemplated the memories that it carried, the sins it had helped her perform. A sound to her left, the soft crunch of hooves against thawing ground, made her pause her ministrations. "Oreius."

"Adeline."

The centaur was an old friend of hers. A brother in arms. They had fought a group of the Witch's minions together and since they had come to consider each other close friends and confidantes. She looked up at him, brow furrowed as she bit the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "Are there truly others coming," she asked, her gaze flickering briefly to the silver weapon in her hand before it locked on him again, "Or need I be concerned about my father losing his mind?" Oreius flinched and she knew he was perturbed by her casual questioning of the Great Lion's word.

"There will be others, my lady," he replied, smirking when she glared at him, "Spring has brought hope to even the most isolated hearts, and they are all willing to fight for Aslan and for Narnia." The girl nodded absently, stretching out on the blanket beneath her. Oreius lowered himself down beside her, deciding to keep her company. Though he knew very little about her in regard to where she came from, he knew her well enough to understand that if he did not give her company, she would be pulling away sooner rather than later. "What do you see, Commander?" The stars twinkled above them, likely whispering of great battles yet to come. His father had been a prophet, trained in the arts of star-gazing, though Oreius himself had never learned to fully interpret the words of fate.

Having been raised in an age where even some humans could read the stars, Adeline studied the sky. A chill went down her spine. "They are telling me that blood will be spilt wrongfully and forever shift the course set forth by destiny," she whispered, "It was once said… no matter, it's hardly relevant at this point in time." Repositioning herself so she was resting with her back against Oreius' flank, she curled up with her dagger hidden in the folds of her cloak. "Sleep well, friend."

"And you, Commander."

Sunrise came with strong, warm winds. Adeline blinked the sleep out of her eyes, pushing away from Oreius. Her movements woke the centaur, who slowly got back up on his hooves as the blonde warrior took in the stunning amount of green spreading where white had been near blinding just hours prior. A murmur of several new, sleepy voices reached her ears and she stood alongside her friend and returned to the middle of the camp. Just as Oreius and her father had assured her, there were others. Many others. Fauns, leopards, dwarves and even some satyrs. Several more centaurs had arrived as well, greatly improving their numbers. They had an army. "It seems I was wrong to doubt," Adeline muttered, walking alongside Oreius back to her father's tent, "How am I meant to have all these soldiers ready for battle?"

"They know to listen to you," Aslan said regally, sidling up with her, "All you must do is speak."

Though her throat felt thick, Adeline turned and faced the gathered Narnians. How long had it been since she commanded an army? It must have been hundreds of years. "Listen," she called, silencing the entire camp, "Archers, take to the West and build targets to practice with, those who carry axes and clubs, move to the South and use blunted weapons to spar with each other." They nodded, immediately shuffling to do as they were ordered. The corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly, memories of days long since passed flitting through her mind. Smirking at the remaining soldiers, she raised her eyebrows. "Swordsmen, you shall set up to the East and duel each other." Once again, she received only a nod as they did as they were told. Adeline, however, was feeling mischievous. Before the soldiers could move away from the camp, she clapped her hands to regain their attention, much to their confusion. "Tonight you shall face me in a bit of friendly competition," she announced, grinning as her father rolled his golden eyes, "Once you beat me, you will be permitted to help others continue developing their own skills."

A faun by the name of Argus was the second to beat Adeline, only after Oreius. He blushed furiously when he knocked the dagger out of the General's hand and cheers rose around him. When Adeline commended his work and asked for him to train the swordsmen alongside Oreius so that she could focus on establishing a leader for the others. Her eyes sparkled with satisfaction as a satyr nearly matched her and she immediately set him to work teaching the other archers. It took seven tries for the dwarf Rivrum to beat her in a close duel using his axe. Upon defeating her, he graciously accepted the role of leader for his axe. and club-swinging comrades, humbled by his own defeats.

If only because she was somewhat liberated from her duties by the appointment of her Captains, Adeline found herself mostly observing dutiful soldiers to the sounds of swords clashing and the steady thuds of arrows meeting their marks. Some had been relieved from their training to tend to weapons and armour, sharpening and polishing until sweat and blood sprung forth. Barely two days had passed since Adeline's arrival at the Stone Table and she was beginning to see soldiers able to fight for their country, rather than just rebels willing to fight. And though her scrutiny motivated them to work harder and harder, the arrival of highly anticipated guests spurred excitement unlike any she had witnessed in many centuries.

She watched them as they stood before Aslan. If she was being honest with herself, the children before him were not at all what she expected, nor were they what she believed Narnia needed. And yet, her father had gone through the trouble of returning to Narnia, gathering an army and summoning her. All for the sake of the supposed destined kings and queens. Well, she noted with a frown, king and queens. The word of their brother's betrayal sent a wave of disbelief and distrust through the gathered soldiers and Adeline felt scars from hundreds of years back ache. A traitor. Her father had to be wrong. Surely, if one of them could betray Narnia, they were not the four that the prophecy spoke of? But her father defended them as Oreius voiced the thought passing through all of their minds. He has betrayed us all.

To Adeline's surprise and intrigue, the tallest of the three, the one her father had called Peter, took the blame for his brother's desertion. She was only further intrigued when the one her father had called Susan insisted that they were all responsible. They were no leaders, she thought as a small smile started to play on her lips. But with proper tutoring, perhaps they could be. No matter the inevitable affection her father would develop for the humans, he did not excuse the fourth's treason. For that, Adeline was relieved. Her father had some sense left.

Without really meaning to, she found herself watching them more intently. The eldest child, Peter, seemed to carry the weight of the world in his shoulders, having been given too much responsibility for a boy of his age. The older of the sisters, Susan, appeared much too gentle for war. She was not skittish, per se, she just moved carefully and seemed to care a great deal more for safety than freedom. The third one, Lucy, made Adeline smile. She was so excited and burning with curiosity.

"Adeline."

She looked up at her father, meeting his gaze as she was pulled from her observations.

"See to it that they are given a change of clothes," Aslan spoke, eyes kind, "Then return to your duties." He watched her incline her head in acknowledgement and disappear into the crowd.

Though she had meant to deliver the clothing herself, Adeline was pulled aside by Argus. He needed her to sort out an argument between a satyr and another faun, who could not agree on who should have what weapon. So she passed off the clothes to one of the female centaurs and turned to resolve the childish dispute. It was a waste of time, time that could have been of much better use spent practising and duelling, though she could see why they were growing anxious. For the better part of three days, she had been relentless and unforgiving in her pursuit of making them the soldiers Narnia needed them to be. The restlessness was palpable. It was an easy enough conflict to diffuse, as she, after fifteen minutes of listening to their pointless babbling, simply asked why they could not both have a sword.

Oreius must have noticed her poor mood, for he shoved her away from the soldiers with the intention of forcing her to clear her head. By the time she stopped fighting him and let him guide her to her tent, there was no time for a reprieve. Susan's horn blared and both Oreius and Adeline ran in the direction of the sound.

They arrived at the stream, where the girls were meant to be washing and getting changed, only to find Peter faced with two wolves while his sisters sat up in a tree. Adeline pulled her dagger as her father pinned one of the Witch's lapdogs to the ground, ready to strike. She had a bone to pick with Maugrim.

"No, stay your weapons," Aslan ordered, barely glancing back at the assorted soldiers, "This is Peter's battle."

Irritation tingled beneath Adeline's skin as she watched Maugrim taunt Peter before he attacked. Her heart, though she would never admit it, jumped up in her throat as both boy and wolf went down. In the three, Susan and Lucy screamed, fearing for their brother's life. They jumped down and, upon realising that the beast lay unmoving, pushed it off of Peter. The princeling sat up, eyes wide, and embraced his sisters. They squeezed him tightly and Adeline had to turn away. Flashes of times long since passed came to the forefront of her mind. William. Fabian. Edith. She longed for them, longed for her own family. Her father released the second wolf and she moved to follow the others as they chased it in hopes of finding Edmund, the missing sibling. A glance from her father stopped her. Instead, she stepped out from behind the Great Lion, reaching a hand out to Peter. All three siblings stared incredulously at her and she realised that they had not yet seen her. Undoubtedly, they believed her to be as human as them, rather than the half-human she was. Though he hesitated for a moment, Peter took her hand and allowed her to pull him up.

"You need training," she said, hearing her father chuckle behind her, "Your form is atrocious."

"Leave him alone, Adeline, he just defeated one of Jadis' most trusted allies," Aslan admonished good-naturedly, "Allow him a moment's rest before you pick apart his technique." He turned back to the three Pevensies, looking meaningfully at Peter's sword. Asking the boy to clean it off, he waited for him to kneel. And right then and there, he knighted the future king, giving him the title of Sir Peter Wolf's-Bane, a knight in service of Narnia. "You should all get some rest," he said gently, giving the children a lion's smile, "Daughter, a word if you please."

While the Pevensies walked back to camp on trembling legs, Adeline joined her father. They trailed behind the budding rulers, watching them together. "I assume, Father, that you actually had something to say," she said, voice low, "Or did you intend to walk in silence?" He looked up at her thoughtfully, and she was struck by the sadness in his eyes. A lump formed in her throat, growing as he looked back wistfully at the children walking ahead of them.

"Do you miss them?"

Swallowing thickly, Adeline nodded. "Every day." He was all she had left. She had not laid eyes on her mother since her birth and her siblings were long since dead. A shuddering breath swept past her lips. Some memories were best left alone. Her father must have noticed her plight, for he nodded to himself.

"You must protect them, Daughter," he said, looking over to where the Pevensies were walking into their designated tents, "The soldiers can prepare themselves, while you prepare the children for their duties." Aslan felt her falter, her step lingering before she continued walking beside him. He knew of her reservations, understood that she was hesitant to pass on her own wisdom. "Only you can help them become benevolent rulers, Adeline, you know this to be true," he continued, though he knew without looking that she was instinctively reaching for her silver dagger, "You made far greater sacrifices than I ever thought necessary, and it is time to let someone else learn from them."