The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

Signs of Magic

Scars of old.

Both the scars that she had gained from that Fateful battle with the remainder of the White Witch's minions, and the scars of that true Death the second return, had now made their home in her skin once more.

The magic of that deathly pool had not left her entirely untouched, it seemed, for these old scars, which had been rough and red upon their original making, now shimmered, faintly, of gold against her pale skin.

She touched her face, her cheek, where an old Golden Age scar had once been. Pulling a mirror from the simple dresser in her alcove, she confirmed once more that her scars, her most permanent keepsakes of the past, had been returned to her.

Strangely enough, she found that it did not grieve her, or bring her pain. Rather... she felt comforted by it. These relics of the past, her scars and her crown, seemed to ground her in Narnia, making her wonder if, perhaps, she might not be meant to leave after all. But that did not change what she had seen in her vision, and if it came down to the choice of watching Caspian live his life with another or returning home, perhaps the circumstances that awaited her there did not seem so terrible after all...

There was much on her mind to think about, but for now... she felt oddly at peace with it all, and she resolved simply to leave these wonderings to Aslan. The Great Lion would not make plans for her doom, she decided, and that was enough for her.

Margaret took the crown and gently placed it into the bottom drawer, atop her diary.

Just as she slid the drawer closed, a great roar rang out, and moments later, Drinian's sharp call for archers drew her quickly to the upper deck once more.

As soon as she had blinked away the brightness of the midday sun, she saw a blur of color, a dark shape streaking past the railing. It settled overhead, clutching at the mast, and that was when she realized.

A dragon.

Drinian gave the order to fire, and crossbow bolts sliced through the air. The dragon flinched, but didn't move. Margaret caught sight of Reepicheep, running up along the mast, and when the Noble Mouse drove his sword into its hand, the beast finally flew away...

Right back towards the island, where Caspian and Edmund still searched for Eustace.

Moments later, the dragon swooped back around to the boat.

This time, however, it had a familiar figure clutched in its grasp.

"Edmund!" Lucy shouted.

"No, Edmund!" Margaret cried, alarmed at seeing their brother captured by the beast. She rushed to the railing, but there was nothing she could do.

"Lucy! Margaret!" Edmund called back to them, fighting the creature's grip as it once again circled around towards the island.

Margaret looked at Drinian.

"We must return to shore at once!" she said.

"Your Majesty, I--"

"Caspian isn't here right now, Captain," she reminded him. "That means I'm in charge, and we're going to get my brother back from this beast."

Drinian watched her with an unreadable look. Though she couldn't be certain, Margaret thought it held some small hint of respect.

"Aye, My Lady," he said. "All able hands to the longboats! All ashore to save the High King!"

When they arrived at the shore, a most peculiar sight awaited them. Caspian stood upon the beach, alongside, to their surprise, Edmund. And, even more surprising, the dragon itself.