Kind and Brave // Tales of the Traveling Queen Book 1

5) .A Tale Often Told.

(Edited)

.A Tale Often Told.

~Tuesday Prince~

It is almost nightfall when we arrive at the small, warm home of the Beavers. It is well lit and, when Mrs. Beaver comes stalking out the door angrily, I know she it the one that keeps it that way.

"Beaver, is that you?" she cries. "I've been worried sick. If find out you've been with Badger again..." her eyes catch my own and travel to the others, returning back to me. "Oh, those aren't Badgers. I never thought I would live to see this day!" 

Mrs. Beaver curtsies deeply, just as her husband had. 

"Your highness. Please forgive me. I did not know you were coming today." 

I laugh. "Please, Mrs. Beaver. Rise, for I did not know I was coming today either." Confusion plants itself in my heart. Why are they call calling me highness? I am not a queen or a princess.

"Come inside and we'll see if we can't get you and your friends some food." She turns to her husband and shoots him a glare. "And some civilized company." Giggling slightly, I reach over and grab Lucy's hand. However, to my surprise, it's not Lucy's but Peter's. Still, I keep his hand in mine and pull him inside the house after me, stooping down to get inside properly. I'm blushing slightly as I become very aware of Peter's heated skin against mine. I can tell he's red in the face as well and it gives me confidence. I smile back at him with excitement in his eyes and I see his adam's apple bob in his throat with uncertainty. Giving his hand a confident squeeze, I let go and move to a seat Mrs. Beaver pulled out for me. I didn't know where the sudden affection for the by came from, but it filled my heart and gave me a stronger feeling than the anger from the ice did, so I appreciate it.

"Mrs. Beaver," I say aloud to the creature who has gone into the kitchen. 

She looks back over her shoulder. 

"May I ask you a couple questions?" 

She smiles. "Of course, highness."

"First, please just call me Tuesday. I am not of royalty. Second, why does everyone treat me as though I'm a queen?" 

Mrs. Beaver turns and brings a bowel of rolls to the table. "Because you are, high-Tuesday," she corrects herself. "Your mother was the queen that sat in Cair Paravel's walls before you, and now you must take her place among four others. We were told of her passing. I'm so sorry for your loss. Your story is a long one, I am sure, but your entire life you have been prepared for this moment, to take back Narnia and place true Queens and Kings, sons and daughters of Adam and Eve, back on the thrones of Cair Paravel."

"What is your story, Tuesday?" Susan asks, making me turn to her in surprise. Her eyes are filled with wonder that makes me want to tell her everything, but I look at the Beavers for confirmation. 

Mrs. Beaver nods and Mr. Beaver almost looks excited as though he's never heard the story. So, I take a deep breath and begin.

"My entire life I've had dreams. Dreams of Narnia. For most of my life, I thought I was going mad, I mean, how can magic exist in the real world? Still, I remembered every one of them. Eternal winters, a giant lion, kings and queens of Narnia, but I always fit in, playing with centaurs, fawns, and talking animals. That's how I knew you had a conscience of course and weren't just any animal. Anyway, one day, my dreams started darkening. I knew there was going to be war and heartache and pain. I didn't expect it to appear in the real world.

One night, I was shaken awake by my mother who pulled me from my bed, saying we had to get to the shelter. Bombs were falling from the sky like rain, destroying everything in their paths. One fell through the roof and blew everything apart. My mother shoved me away from her and into another room, but the damage was done. The police couldn't even find her body. When she was gone, the dreams were too." Tears roll down my cheeks in bundles as my shoulders shake. From across the table, Peter takes my hand in his. I feel instantly comforted and I relax enough to the point to continue on.

"The only thing left from my mother that survived was a phone book. When I opened it, there was only one number written inside. I called and that's where I met Professor Digory Kirke, the man who told me he had made a promise to my mother to keep me safe no matter what. He fulfilled that promise and took me in as though I was his own child. Little did I know that I would make friends along the way." 

Lucy gives me a kind smile and I return it willingly.

"The first night at the manor, I had another dream. It explained to me that my mother had granted unto me these dreams so that I could be prepared for the future and for what was to come. He told me that I was the only one that could save Narnia and bring the four queens and kings of Narnia back to power."

"Who said?" Susan asks with excitement.

"Aslan."

"Who's Aslan?" Edmund wonders. 

Mr. Beaver bursts into a laugh. "Who's Aslan? You cheeky little blighter!" 

I shake my head. "They don't know who Aslan is, Mr. Beaver. They only just got here, remember?" 

I then turn to Edmund to answer his question. For some odd reason, there is fear in his eyes at the mention of the great lion's name. 

"Aslan is the true king of Narnia, a humble peace keeper who wants the best for all the people."

"He's been away for a long while," Mrs. Beaver adds and I nod.

"But he just got back!" Mr. Beaver exclaims. "And he's waiting for you near the Stone Table!" 

Lucy bounces in her seat enthusiastically. "He's waiting for us?" she cries.

"You're blooming joking!" Mr. Beaver shouts. "They don't even know about the prophecy!" 

I laugh quietly. 

"It's been said: When the true queen of Narnia returns to overrun, bringing with her Adam's flesh and Adam's bone to sit at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done."

"You know that doesn't really rhyme very well," Lucy argues. 

Mr. Beaver sighs. "I know, but you're kind of missing the point!"

"It has long been foretold that two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve, along with the returned queen of Narnia will defeat the White Witch and restore peace to this land," Mrs. Beaver explains more clearly. 

The four children look at each other in surprise and confusion.

"And you think we're the ones?" Peter asks. 

I look to the Beavers who nod. "Well you'd better be, because Aslan's already fitting out your army!" 

I almost have to hit myself in the forehead. We're all children. They can't just expect us to fight a war and be okay with it. I will do whatever it takes to free my country, but the Pevensies are a different story.

"Mum sent us away so we wouldn't get caught up in a war," Susan says. "I think you've made a mistake. We're not heroes! We're from Finchley!" Susan stands suddenly, grabbing her coat by the door. Peter does the same, dropping my hand and looking at me with an apologetic look. "Thank you for your hospitality. But we really have to go." 

My jaw drops. "You can't just go! I can't do this on my own!"

"She's right!" Lucy agrees. "What about Mr. Tumnus."

"I'm really sorry, Tuesday," Peter says, looking at me sincerely. "It's out of our hands. Good luck on your own. I'm sorry but it's time the four of us were getting home. Ed?" Peter turns around, looking for the boy, but he's gone. 

I stand up as well, grabbing my coat and shifting my pocket to grab my knife firmly in my hand.

"We have to find him, before he gets himself killed."

"It's fine," Peter promises. "I'm going to kill him myself." 

I shake my head. "You won't have to." I turn to the door and pull it open, wincing as I hit my head on the frame. "Oh, why didn't I see it before."

"What?" Susan asks. "What is it, Tuesday?" 

I turn back, only once more, to look at her. "Edmund's met the White Witch, and she's gained his favor."

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Word Count : 1,453