Narnia was a magical place, dust from the Dawn of time built into the very foundations of the world. Each of the residents of the place knew it, almost like a law, but none of them could feel it, not like Aramis could. Everything that moved, that breathed the same air he did, caused a pinprick of energy to spin through his body.
He was stood beside Aslan, as he often found himself, he was looking over the camp they had made. It had been in the works for quite some time, beside the stone table, with all of the most trusted creatures aiding them in fulfilling the task at hand. Though, there was still so much to be done, and very little time left to do it.
It was early in the day when it happened. The surge of energy, more powerful than anything before.
Aramis breathed heavily, dark hair standing on end, pupils enlarged. This was new. And it was brilliant.
"Aslan..." he trailed, everything making sense to him. "They're here."
"Can you feel it, my friend?"
"More than ever before." Aramis agreed, standing almost stiffly. "But they will be lost."
Aslan simply turned to the guide, and spoke as calmly as he always did. "You must be patient; it is one of your greatest virtues."
"I cannot leave them. What if something happens?"
"Then you shall be the one to save them."
He shook his head. "That is not what I want."
"But it is the way things have to be."
Aramis drew a breath, short, not enough to become sustainable over time. It wasn't going to be as easy as he had hoped. Now, there was much more to worry about than just the Witch.
The Pevensie's hadn't long been in the Beaver's small hut by the time conversation took a more whimsical turn. Mr Beaver had coaxed most of the children around the small, wooden table, to draw them in as he spoke of his world- but Edmund would not.
He had secluded himself, to the greatest extent without leaving. On the third step from the floor, he watched as his siblings conversed with the creature. From the very moment that he had set foot in Narnia, there had been a scowl on his face. The entire thing made him uneasy, not to mention his brush with the White Witch.
Guilt had racked him, and lying was making it no better. To seem upset was much easier than facing the truth. He knew that, even if it wasn't right.
Hurried, Mrs Beaver waddled over with her hands full with a hot tray.
"Fish 'n' chips?" She was desperate the distract from the awfulness, that her awkward laugh hung in the air like a bad smell.
She dropped the tray for the Pevensie's, and their appetite disappeared at once. The fish wasn't breaded, or battered, or even filleted. The best that came from it was that it had been gutted- though their jelly-like eyes still managed to stare a hole through Lucy.
Sensing the tension in the air, Mrs Beaver still knew that she had to say something to help.
"But there is hope, dear." She could only wish that it was enough. "Lots of hope."
"Oh, yeah!" Beaver agreed as he spat out a mouthful of tea. "There's a right bit more than hope!" For a moment, he checked if there were any faces he didn't recognised, wandering past. Confidently knowing that there weren't, he continued, whispering. "Aslan is on the move."
To any Narnian, this would've sparked joyous reactions. They would smile, and laugh, and jump around in glee. But the Pevensie's had no clue. That was why they leant forwards, the natural urge for wanting to know more overpowering every other sense.
Edmund just stood from the stairs. His eyes were still lazy as he wandered forwards.
"Who's Aslan?"
Beaver took no time in bursting out with laughter. "Who's Aslan? You cheeky little blighter." Mrs Beaver noticed their blank expressions and tapped his shoulder. "What?" He took that moment to look over the siblings, all of which were clueless. "You don't know, do you?"
Peter scowled. "Well, we haven't exactly been here very long."
"Well, he's only King of the whole wood!" Beaver gestured widely with his arms, trying to exaggerate, but making poor work of it. "The top geezer. The real King of Narnia."
Edmund realised how uninterested he truly was, and dragged his heels, walking away.
"He's been away for a long time." Mrs Beaver smiled as best she could. An overwhelming amount of excitement was sighing her, but she couldn't frighten the humans. This was already so much for them.
"But he's just got back! And he's waiting for you near the stone table with the last star!"
Lucy's eyes widened, growing with concern. "He's waiting for us?"
It seemed, however, that Edmund's head was somewhere else entirely. He'd been caught up on something said only moments before. "What's the last star?"
"You're blooming joking!" Beaver was not impressed. They don't even know about the prophecy! They don't even know about the last star!"
"Well, then..." Mrs Beaver gestured for him to continue.
"Look," Beaver breathed, trying to calm his excitement. "Aslan's return, Tumnus' arrest, the secret police, it's all happening because of you!"
Susan was taken aback. "You're blaming us?"
"No! Not blaming." Mrs Beaver made sure that they understood, still as calm and caring as she always had been. "Thanking you."
A sort of whimsical air filled the air as Beaver began. It was something completely new to feel.
"There's a prophecy. When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone, sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done."
"You know, that doesn't really rhyme." Susan countered.
"I know it don't." Beaver shot back. "You're kind of missing the point!"
"It has long been foretold that two sons of Adam and two daughters of Eve will defeat the white witch and restore peace to Narnia." Mrs Beaver tried her best to explain. Though, it was quite a lot to take in, especially so soon into their lives in Narnia.
The eldest siblings looked to one another. "And you think we're the ones?"
"Well, you'd better be, 'cause Aslan's already fitted out your army."
Lucy couldn't eveliev what she was hearing. "Our army?"
Susan mumbled, beaneath her breath, just loud enough so that Peter could hear her. "Mum sent us away so we wouldn't get caught up in a war."
"I think you've made a mistake." The eldest agreed, quietly.
"What does this have to do with a star?" The question came from Edmund. Though he hated having all eyes on him, the natural pull he felt towards the subject outweighed any other emotion.
"He's here to protect you." Mrs Beaver informed.
Edmund was taken aback. "Me?"
She clarified. "All of you."
"Then why isn't he here now?"
"He is bound to Aslan until he first meets you." Beaver elaborated with ease. These were the stories from his childhood. "But it his duty to serve you."
"What if we don't want him to serve us?" The eldest sister tried her best to work themselves out of the equation.
"We don't need someone to serve us." Peter promised wholeheartedly. "we're not heroes."
"We're from Finchley." Susan agreed. They were plying off each other like fiddlers during a jig- but the Beavers were aware of how they would react, which was why it came as a shock when the darkest haired girl stood without warning. "Thank you for your hospitality, but we really have to go."
"You can't just leave."
"He's right." Lucy sighed, her large doe eyes staring out her brother. "We have to help Mr Tumnus."
"It's out of our hands." Peter stood, clearing the divide between the siblings. "I'm sorry, but it's time the four of us were getting home. Ed?"
There was a silence. Deafening.
Peter tried once again.
"Ed?"
They looked over every corner and crevasse. All of their secrets, everything that they might've had against the Pevensie's was available to be seen.
There was nothing to hide. And, obviously, there was no Edmund either.
"I'm gonna kill him."
The snow was overwhelming to those unaware of its purpose and violence. It say in thick layers, patiently awaiting a victim, or friend- but it always took a while. The sort of time that the average person didn't have to give up.
Only a few had learned to tame it, all of whom were spirits.
It wasn't the nice sort of winter snow, either because there was no warmer place to go. This was the sort of cold that could kill even the strongest of men. A frostbite that amputates.
And there he was.
The youngest Pevensie brother, storming through the blizzard directed night, without a coat in sight. The darkness wasn't on his side, and neither was the weather.
Edmund would have to be careful for many things. If he wasn't, the snow would be the least of his problems.
"One is lost, Aslan." Aramis shuddered from inside of one of the large tents.
He was crosslegged, across from the large lion, enjoying the warmth of the fire crackling between them. These were his solace at this harsh time. A hundred years was a long time to wait for change- but finally it was due.
"You must let me guide him." The black haired boy almost grimaced at the idea of a young human being left alone. They were so lonely. So frightened.
"He does not need you yet, my friend."
He huffed, dark eyes flickering. "How do you know?"
"Because this is how it has been, and always will be."
"But I can feel him." Aramis did his best to reason, without sounding desperate, but this was what he had waited for. Every moment in his life was leading to the second he could make contact with the future rulers of Narnia. Now, it was too close to resist. "He is angry, and confused."
"And you can help, but all I good time, Aramis." Aslan confirmed for a second time, nodding slowly. "Not just yet."
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Disclaimer!!!!
I do not own these characters. I do not own the Narnia series. I do not own the actors, or the characters. The only thing I own is my adaptation of the story, and my original character.