𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃 | ❝Hope is good, Hope will never disgrace, but make no mistake, Hope will hit you in the face!❞
In which the Just King becomes betrothed to a princess from a neighboring kingdom, only to fall in love with the prin...
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THOUGH THE PRINCESS AND her lady had mended their conflicts, the war was far from over. As they returned to Aslan's How, they were harshly reminded of that fact.
Stations were set up in their absence, where soldiers could have their wounds tended to, their weapons and armor cleaned, and a warm meal while they waited. Amidst the ruffling grass and hushed whispers, it twisted Hope's stomach to see how limp Narnia seemed. Alas, it was no surprise. Moving on after losing half their army last night would not come easily. Even less easily for those in grief for their loved ones. Moving on posed as such as preposterous thought. How much longer would this grim period of history last? Would it ever end?
Although Hope and Odette had made up, the Pevensies and Caspian avoided one another like the plague. The foundations of their controversial union had never been so delicate. Surely, they would reconvene before the real battle began—well, ideally, at least. Until then, the Wysterians decided to touch base with everyone on their own, just to be on the safe side. Divide, conquer, reconcile.
Odette sought out Susan on the training grounds while Hope, initially, searched for Edmund. They hadn't a minute alone since before the Night Raid, and he was all she could think about. She knew he was okay, but it would soothe her more to talk to him, hold him. That was until Hope spotted the youngest Pevensie by herself, frowning ever so subtly. Hope pivoted on her heel without question.
Ignoring the watchful stares on her back might never become second nature. The spotlight had settled on Hope for nearly this entire trip, and it didn't help now that word was out about the fragmentary relationship between the Telmarines and the Wysterians. She wondered if this was how Odette and the Pevensies felt most of the time.
Lucy was exactly where Hope would've suspected, perched at the Healers' Station, helping to the best of her ability. With her vial of fire-flower juice hanging off her hip, the Valiant Queen was working on a salve for Windmane diligently. She stopped only when she realized a shadow was blocking the sun for her.
Lucy's freckled face brightened. "Hope!"
"Hi, honey," Hope greeted. She gestured to the other salves, concoctions, and herbal remedies that needed to be prepared, mixed, and distributed. "Need an extra hand?"
"That would be very generous of you. But first—" Lucy withdrew her vial and patted the spot in the grass beside her. Hope grazed her own neck, wincing again at the bruise Miraz had branded her with. "Let's take care of you first."
