The Choice

the meeting

I woke to a sense of weight and a soft, distracted sound—something like a breath caught between a moan and a sigh. For a moment I thought I was still dreaming. Then I became aware that the warmth beneath my head wasn't the stone of the battlement but a living shoulder.

"Did I wake you, princess?" Caspian's voice was amused. "I had a cramp in my arm. Your head is remarkably heavy." He laughed, a small, embarrassed sound.

I scrambled to sit up. "No—no don't worry. How long was I asleep?" I blinked against the light, suddenly frantic at the thought of having kept him from duties.

"Five hours, I think." He sounded almost apologetic.

"Five hours? Caspian, you have better things to do than babysit me!" I sprang to my feet. My apology tumbled out, hurried and clumsy. "I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to keep you. I shouldn't— "

He put a hand on my arm, and the motion was gentle enough to stop me. "Hey. Relax." His fingers cupped my face, warm and sure. "Honestly, I don't mind. I loved every second." His smile was small and honest. "Besides, you helped me."

"How?" I asked, surprised.

"For once my head was quiet," he admitted, looking out over the How. "When things get loud inside, I can't think straight. Sitting here with you...those hours felt like peace."

I felt something soft inside me loosen. "Thank you, Cas." I stepped closer and hugged him. He hugged me back, as if that was the most natural thing in the world.

When we pulled away our face were nearer than they needed to be. The pause stretched; I realised how much I wanted his lips to meet mine. He dipped his head, slow and careful, and for a heartbeat everything narrowed to the space between us.

Then, Edmund's awkward cough cut through the moment.

"Ahem?"

We both froze. Edmund was standing a few paces back, eyes darting between us as if he'd caught us doing something shameful. "Peter wants a meeting. He asked us to discuss battleplans."

Caspian's expression shifted with practised ease. "We'll be there in a moment." He offered me his hand and helped me up. Edmund lingered an extra second too long, then left, cheeks faintly flushed. Once we were out of earshot we burst into helpless laughter, two foolish children caught in a grown-up world. It felt good—ridiculous and light and entirely like us.

The council chamber smelled of wood wax and damp fur. Around the stone table were the familiar faces: Peter and Susan, the centaurs, Trufflehunter, Reepicheep and the other allies. The mood in the room was tight as a drawn bow.

"Now that everyone is here," Peter began, eyes hard, "we'll start."

"It's only a matter of time. Miraz's men and war machines are on their way. That means those same men aren't protecting his castle."

Reepicheep spoke first, "What do you propose we do, Sire?"

Caspian and Peter stepped forward at the same time. "We— ""Our— ". They collided mid-sentence, and Peter's glare made it clear that he did not enjoy sharing the floor.

Caspian hesitated and then yielded the lead with a brittle smile.

"Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us." Peter began.

The Telmarine prince yelled in disbelief, "But that's impossible, no one has ever taken that castle!"

"There is always a first time." Peter snapped back.

I opened my mouth—partly to prevent further squabbling, partly because there was something about the plan only someone who had grown up in those walls might understand—but he gave me a quick, almost imperceptible nod that said: say it.

"Stop," I said before they could begin the next round. My voice had more steel than I'd meant, and it drew the room quiet. "Peter, listen. We should hear from the person who knows that castle best. Who has lived there. Who knows its corners and its flaws."

Peter's mouth tightened. "Sister, what do you know of battle plans? You're a girl." The dismissive tone was old as sniping, meant to unbalance me.

I didn't let it. One of mu daggers flashed in my hand as I made the motion—not a threat, but not a joke either. The edge skimmed his ear, close enough that he felt it.

"Don't doubt me," I said quietly. The room shifted; even Peter looked uncomfortable, the arrogance fading to something like guilt.

Trumpkin broke the silence. "We'll have the element of surprise."

Caspian leaned forward. "But we have the advantage here."

Susan's calm voice cut through the tension. "If we dig in, we could probably hold them off indefinitely."

The argument rolled on, strategy against strategy, for another hour. Maps were spread, suggestions made and dismissed. Peter's pride wouldn't bend, and yet it became clear he would not be stayed. He would go—with or without a plan. There was no persuading him otherwise.

Finally, Susan and I exchanged a look and stood together. "If he goes," I said, "he won't go alone." The decision settled like a stone, inevitably and heavy. We would raid. We would attempt what had always been called impossible.

As the plans were finalised and men were called, a small, private thought prickled in the back of my mind: this was a stupid idea. It was dangerous and reckless and perhaps the only way that stood a chance. My gut tightened—not from fear of dying, but from the knowledge that once we moved, choices would be made that couldn't be taken back.

Peter's jaw set. Caspian's hand brushed mine briefly, a touch sent and acknowledged. The quiet between us had weight now, different from the stolen peace of this morning. Whatever came next, we would face it shoulder to shoulder—and that thought steadied me in a way nothing else had.