AN: Wow, thanks guys. :) I'm really glad you all liked Edmund's chapter, and your reviews made my day. Cheers for that.

And sorry for the delay. This was really hard to write. Hope I got it right in the end. Also, I know the generally accepted amount of time the Pevensie kids spent in Narnia is 15 years, but I reckon they would have been there for at least 25, so that's what I've said here.

::EDIT:: I've fixed up those errors. :) Let me know if you see any more!

Enjoy. :)

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Virtues

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Valiant

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'What do you fear, My Lady?'

'…A cage. To sit behind bars until use and old age accept them, and all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire.'

'You are a Shield Maiden of Rohan. I do not think that will be your fate.'

- Aragon and Eowyn; Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

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There were very few things that frightened Lucy Pevensie of the Glistening Eastern Sea, Valiant Queen of Narnia.

She wasn't afraid of the dark – she hadn't been since since seven old.

Blood didn't make her in any way queasy or squeamish – one couldn't very well ride to war if one faints at the sight of blood!

Spiders didn't frighten her – she had lived in a castle for nigh on twenty-five years; one is bound to come across the eight-legged insects frequently in a building as large and open as a castle.

She wasn't scared of mice – how could one be, after one has met the courageous, courteous and chivalrous Talking Mice of Narnia?

She was not scared of heights – Cair Paravel was situated on the edge of a cliff.

She wasn't scared of the Calormine god Tash, for even if the four-armed, half-bird-half-man creature existed (and Lucy didn't think he did) there was no doubt in Lucy's mind that Aslan was the stronger of the two, and what did a child of Aslan have to fear from the supposed god of another race?

There were some things, however, that caused the Valiant Queen to go pale and tremble with fear.

Jadis had been one of those things. Even still, years since the tyrant's death, the thought of the tall, pale, hate-filled woman caused Lucy's hands to clench and a shiver to run up her spine. She knew that anyone who had encountered the Witch and lived to tell the tale felt the same.

Lucy also constantly feared for the lives of her siblings – Peter and Edmund in particular. Susan had been the one who chose to stay at the Cair to look after domestic matters whenever war threatened the fair lands of Narnia, but Lucy – despite Father Christmas' warnings that wars were ugly affairs – almost always accompanied her brothers and Narnia's army on their campaigns. Thus, the three of them – Lucy, Edmund and Peter – were well acquainted with, but by no means used to, the notion of losing each other. And that notion terrified the youngest Queen.

Aslan also scared Lucy, but her trust in the Great Lion overcame any fear she had for Him. That fear was borne out of respect – she knew that, if He willed it, Aslan was capable of ending someone's life, or re-starting it. He was capable of breathing life into a rock, or of crushing the same rock with nothing but His breath. He was the one who had created all of Narnia, and He was the one who had defied death to the last.

That level of sheer power was frightening.

All of these fears were perfectly acceptable for the Valiant Queen of Narnia to harbour. Any sane being would feel the same as she. They were fears borne of self-preservation, love and respect. And none of these fears made Lucy any less valiant or any less brave, for courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the strength to overcome said fear and continue on with the task at hand.

There was one thing, though, that Lucy feared seemingly without reasonable explanation.

She could not stand the feeling of being trapped.

She didn't mind small spaces, so long as she knew there was a way out. She would gladly climb down a well to rescue a baby badger, for she knew that she would be pulled right back out of there as soon as the wailing cub was tucked securely under her arm. And she would eagerly go exploring any caves or tunnels that were uncovered, for she knew that she could always go back out the same way she came in.

In fact, it was she who had found each of the secret tunnels that led from hers and her siblings separate rooms out and down to the woodland behind the castle. She was also the one who found the tunnel that led from the Throne Room to – much to Peter and Edmund's delight – the Kitchens.

But she always insisted that, whatever room she was in, a door or window be left open or, at the very least, unlocked.

She hated the feeling of being trapped so much that she had lost multiple games of chess to Edmund, simply because he would corner her, and she would recklessly sacrifice one of her pieces – pawn, knight, Queen, anything – to get her out from her trapped position.

That was exactly the reason she left all the battle planning up to Peter, Edmund and Oreius.

She had nearly broken Peter's nose, once, in a fit of trapped-induced panic. They had been down at the shore of the Eastern Sea, and she had thrown a clump of wet seaweed at her Magnificent oldest sibling. In retaliation, he wrapped his arms around her torso and began to cart her into the waves, fully intending to get her wet from head to foot.

She had squealed and laughed in protest at first, wriggling to try and break free. But when her attempts to escape failed and she realised just how helpless she was, she had panicked and, finding vague purchase on the sand beneath her feet, thrown her body violently backwards, the back of her head colliding rather painfully with Peter's nose.

He had dropped her immediately, howling in pain, and she had apologised profusely, and they had both gotten soaked because neither of them saw the wave coming up behind them, and Edmund had fallen over laughing at the hilarity of the situation. Of course, Lucy knew that Peter would never hurt her, and it didn't matter if she was helplessly trapped in his arms, because all he ever did was look out for her health and safely, but she had forgotten all that in the moment she realised she was trapped, and her body had reacted accordingly.

So therefore, it was possibly one of the worst moments of her life when she and her three siblings fell back out of the wardrobe, into Spare Oom, and back into their old lives.

There were many things about Life-Before-Narnia that Lucy did not remember. England was too dull, and Narnia too bright for the English memories to remain well preserved. But one thing she did remember was the structure. The routine. The rules.

While in Narnia, the four Pevensies (Lucy and Edmund especially) had revelled in the fact that – as long as what they did hurt no-one – they could pretty much do whatever they wanted. Sure, there were certain duties they had to attend to as the monarchs of the kingdom, and on several occasions they had to partake in activities that they wished with all their being they could avoid (meeting with or visiting the Calormines for example), but when they had free time…

If Lucy wanted to don boy's clothes and go and climb trees with the Dryads all afternoon, she could. If she wanted to get all dressed up for no apparent reason, she could. If she wanted to dance all night with the Fauns, she could.

Of course, she, Edmund, Peter and Susan were schooled in Narnia – after all, Kings and Queens or not, they were still children, and they had a fair bit to learn about the world they now ruled. But these lessons were flexible – if it was a beautiful, sunny day outside, their teachers would hardly force them to stay in the stuffiness of indoors.

In the freshness of spring and the warmth of summer, they would often have their lessons conducted out on the rolling lawn in front of the castle, munching on a spontaneously provided picnic and learning about Narnian history, studying intricate Narnian maps and committing them to memory, or reciting the range of subtle differences between fauns born in the North, and fauns born in the East.

In the cold of winter or the crispness of autumn, they would have practical lessons on warfare and battle planning and strategy, using the surrounding snow or grass and fallen leaves as weapons.

England was not like that, Lucy remembered.

No; in England, Lucy would be expected to sit to attention for four 72 minute long lessons, with only a short lunch and an even shorter recess to break the monotony.

Classes conducted outside were out of the picture too.

The strict nuns at St Finbar's would never even consider the notion of varying their lessons in the slightest, much less to the degree that would be required if they were to move the lesson to the green and eat a picnic whilst learning.

And she wouldn't even be free to do as she pleased once school was finished.

In England, it was frowned just heavily upon for girls to go about garbed as boys as it was for boys to go about garbed as girls. And besides – boy's English outfits were supremely uncomfortable, unlike Narnian clothes.

There were strict rules to be adhered to for both genders. Boys were to learn how to be gentlemen. Girls were to learn how to be ladies.

And what did that translate to? Sitting inside all day and cooking, or cleaning, or sewing.

It was alright while they were in the country at the Professor's house. There, at least, there was some semblance of freedom. But the war would be over soon, and they would have to return to Finchley, and their small little house with their tiny little garden and their lumpy beds and their scratchy sheets and their starched clothes and all the rules that went with being a child in England.

It was when she thought of this that Lucy started to panic. She would wake every few nights in the middle of the night, panting hard in the aftermath of a nightmare which featured bars and walls and locked doors and leering faces.

Though she knew her siblings would help her out - give her comfort - she wouldn't wake them. They were all having trouble dealing with their departure - why give them extra stress? No; she would go to the only other place in that cold, barren country that could give her any comfort. Sitting amongst the fur coats of The Wardrobe, she would be as close as she could get to home, she would be warm, and she could finally calm her breathing down enough that she could be back in her bed before dawn, and no one would be any the wiser.

Then one night, as she was sitting in the darkness, closing her eyes and slowing her breathing, focussing on trying to remember the exact patterns the light made on His fur when the sun shone on His mane, she heard the creak of a door, and the muffled sound of slippered feet.

She stilled, years of training telling her to stay still and silent so as to avoid detection for as long as possible until she knew what was approaching. A moment later, the door of The Wardrobe creaked as Narnia's child-again Just King opened it slowly, attempting futilely to be quiet, his face illuminated by the candle he carried.

"Ed!" Lucy cried, as startled as anyone would be to see their older brother sneaking into a wardrobe in the middle of the night.

The trouble with candles is that they don't cast their light over too far a distance, and anything beyond the sphere of the golden glow is even harder to see than usual, so when Lucy's voice came seemingly out of nowhere, Edmund started rather violently and nearly dropped his candle.

It only took him a moment to recover, and in a second he was peering into the depths of The Wardrobe, straining to see Lucy. "Lu?" he asked, still rather surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I was going to ask you that," the younger one replied, "but you're letting all the cold air in. Put that candle down and come in where it's warm."

Edmund did as he was bid, and set the candle down outside the doors of The Wardrobe, leaving it lit so that he could later escort Lucy to her room and then find his way back to his own, and clambered in to join Lucy, sliding down the back wall (which he wished wasn't there) until he was sitting next to her.

"So," Lucy said, as soon as her brother was settled, "what brings you to this fine Wardrobe at such an odd hour of the night?"

Edmund sighed. "I couldn't sleep," he offered. "I miss Narnia, and this is the closest I can get to being back there."

Lucy nodded in understanding, hugging her knees to her chest. Edmund nudged her softly with his shoulder. "So what about you?" he asked. "I'm not the only one sitting in a wardrobe in the middle of the night, you know."

Lucy sighed, all her pent up emotions expressed in the big heave of air. "I just… Well, the same as you, really. But also…"

Edmund waited for her to continue, and when she didn't, he nudged her again gently. "But also…?"

Lucy paused for a second, trying to work out how to word what she was feeling so that she didn't sound like the little girl she appeared to be. "It's just… I feel so… so wrong here. I'm not English anymore; I'm Narnian, and… well, I know that, 'When in Calormen, do as the Calormens do,' and all that, but I don't like behaving like a Calormen. They have all these weird laws, and strange customs and the food is just… can you even call that food? And the men are supposedly so much more intelligent and capable than the women are and women are looked at as only good for breeding, and house keeping, and gossip. And I don't like gossip. And am I making any sense here, Edmund, or is it all coming out as garbled as I feel?"

Edmund smiled slightly. "No, Lu, you're making perfect sense. England has all these customs and such that were so normal before Narnia, but now they all seem so strange and petty. And the food is pretty dreadful."

"And all the rules and the structure and the timetables…" Lucy whispered. "I just feel so…trapped."

Edmund - aware of Lucy's irrational fear - smiled softly at her and put a comforting arm over her shoulder. "So that's what this is about, is it?"

Lucy nodded, snuggling further into her brother's embrace. "And I know I'm meant to be all brave and everything - I mean, I am supposed to be the Valiant one," she said, looking at the floor of The Wardrobe, "but… I just know that once we go back to Finchley, I won't be able to… I won't be free anymore! And that's terrifying! It's alright here - the Professor understands us, and here in the country I can almost pretend we're back home (it does take a fair bit of imagination, but still). I fell like, as long as I'm in the country, I'll be fine. But as soon as I leave - go into the town, or back to Finchley or wherever, it'll all overwhelm me, and I wont be able to take it. I mean - in Finchley… we're just children. Its almost like when the Calormen ambassador came to visit when we were first coronated and thought that he could take over the castle just cause we were so young, only its so much worse."

Edmund chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Yes, because here we can't threaten war against the offending nation."

Lucy chuckled wetly. "And Oreius isn't here to hold anyone upside down by their ankles until they apologise and beg forgiveness."

Edmund laughed outright at the memory, then sobered. "But Lucy… it's ok to be afraid, you know. We're all scared. England and everything that goes with it is so far removed from anything we've come to know and love. We're walking through and towards the unknown here, and that's scary. Perhaps we should start off small - head into the little township not far from here? Get used to the idea of built up towns again."

Lucy was already shaking her head, and Edmund gave her a slight squeeze. "Come on. I'll be right there with you. And, if it's any consolation… I think I'll be scared too, so I could hardly look down on you if you are."

"But," Lucy protested, her voice small, "I'm meant to be brave. Valiant."

Edmund rolled his eyes fondly in the darkness. "Don't be daft, Lu. You know that there's no such thing as bravery if there's no fear. 'Courage without fear isn't courage at all,' and all that. What's that quote? Ah - 'Courage is being afraid but going on anyhow.'* You don't think we're all struggling to live up to our titles? Heck - I've been coming here every second night just to remind myself that it wasn't all a dream, and that I need to keep going; keep trying to be the Just one."

Lucy looked up at Edmund in surprise. "You've been coming here?"

"Yes. It helps, I think. Perhaps this Wardrobe has some residue Narnian air in it or something, because I always feel more… more hopeful that I can do this. That I can keep being Just, even in this corrupt world."

Lucy paused, thinking. It came as a surprisingly large comfort that her Big Brother also required the meagre support that The Wardrobe offered; that she really wasn't alone in this.

"And, you know what?" Edmund continued. "I think that, if you can do this Lu, you'll be the bravest one of all of us. Peter, Susan and I - we aren't scared of being trapped, like you are. So this is, in a way, easier for us than for you. And just think - how much braver you'll be as a whole when you overcome this. That's valiant for you."

Lucy smiled, more confident now than she had been in days. Clearly she was here in England for a reason - Aslan wouldn't have sent her back for nothing. Perhaps that reason was that she needed to become braver. Her valour needed to be tried, tested and thus, strengthened.

Lucy looked up at Edmund, a playful smile on her face. "What's say we go into town tomorrow?"

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Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.

Ambrose Redmoon

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AN: Bit of a rush job at the end there, but I just want to get it out. Again, I'm disappointed with how this one turned out. Please let me know what you thought though.

And that's it! I've finished! My first ever COMPLETED multi-chapter story is DONE! -Dances- Thanks for waiting for it. :)

Love Bundi

* Quote by Dan Rather