Moonshine

Chapter 10- Anóitos

"The gladness is there, I promise, but it can't overshadow the grief, my dear brother." But then Susan shook her head. "I don't think now is the time for such talk. We have a land to save, and a regime to defeat."

"Just like old times." He murmured- there had to have been numerous crises, in between the Golden Age and the Narnia of today. How had only no one else wanted to call them? How had no one else thought to use the Horn, just in case? Not even his own children-

Perhaps the Deep Magic didn't let them- he didn't understand the Deep Magic, but he could guess at it the best he could.

Perhaps it had been decreed that they would return for only one particular catastrophe, and not all the disasters that had befallen the land before said catastrophe.

He wished he'd never gone on that damned Hunt. As much of a miracle it would've been to catch the White Stag- an impossible feat, was what they had been told it was- it was so much more important to stay with his wife and children. It was so much more important to be home.

"Are you going to come on the raid?" He asked, rather curious. Susan, powerful as she was with her bow, had never liked battle.

She sighed once more, "I don't know, Eddie. I think I will- Narnia's safety and security is as important to me as it is to you and Peter. Besides, Lucy won't be able to go-"

Edmund snorted, "Peter would throw a fit if she even hinted at wanting to come with us."

"Exactly. So, you two will need me." She tried for a smile- it would've been convincing to anyone else, but Edmund wasn't so easily fooled. He chose not to say anything, though, letting her speak on. "Besides, my bow and arrows haven't had practice in over a thousand years. Can't let them just sit and collect dust anymore."

"Of course you have to find logic behind needing to go into battle, too."

"Logic's everywhere." She told him. "It's usually just hidden under cunning."

"I don't like cunning." He absently tugged at the blanket-shawl. He missed the shawls his mother-in-law had given him. "Wisdom has always been my preference over wiles."

"I always did wonder why you weren't the Wise." Susan confessed, rubbing at her eyes- she was beginning to feel rather sleepy, possibly lulled by their quiet talking. "I wondered after all our Titles, actually. I would've thought-"

"Don't." It had taken him so long to understand why he was the Just- whether he deserved to be the Just, and why he deserved to be a King at all.

You're not unworthy. You're a good man- smart, caring, wise, and kind. If your people don't see that what you did was something twelve-year-old you did in the past, while you were under a spell- it's their loss. I, for one, think Narnia should be proud to have you as King.

The words- along with the sacred words Aslan had spoken to him, way back when- always found him in the moments of his deepest self-loathing, when he was drowning in unending insecurity of his position. They comforted him, eased him back to a better state of mind.

He'd never sat and thought about it, and he certainly hadn't realised it in the moment- but perhaps that had been the moment he had begun to fall in love with Sanya.

Not because she had praised him. But because she had understood him.

And she had made him laugh. He'd recounted the tale of his darkest moments- even the thought of that time would leave him cold and dreary for days- but she had made him laugh, and she had laughed herself, and that had pushed away the cold darkness that came with those memories.