Moonshine

Chapter 2- Eímaí

είμαι: eímai
Greek
am
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Trigger warning: dubious sexual consent (implied)
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warning: explicit sexual content
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And he was King Edmund once more.

He had been becoming who he had been from the moment he'd first breathed the Narnian air- but, the moment he had lifted the sword and brought it down to defend himself from the dwarf Trumpkin's attack, he knew he was the Just King again.
It was hard to explain how he could know. But he knew.
There was something sharper in him, something calmer- although his body had not changed, he moved with the fluidity and ease he had a thousand years ago, and his mind felt strangely soothed, as though the senses he had gained in the Golden Age, the respite he had found from his trauma after years of toil had returned, overcoming the adolescent agony he had been trapped in for the past year and a half.
He won the duel. He had, for a brief moment, been unsure of the outcome- he couldn't remember the last time that he'd mistrusted his swordspersonship skills-

"Beards and bedsteads!" The dwarf exclaimed, on the white sand, staring up at his defeater. He hadn't truly believed that they were the Kings and Queens of Old- but even if they were, the boy was skinny and had stood in a careless stance. He'd thought it would be an easy victory. "Maybe that Horn worked after all."

Edmund, who'd had his sword raised and still pointed at him, lowered it and glanced at his siblings, who looked as surprised as him at Trumpkin's words.
That Horn.
It was easy to put together, especially when one read detective novels like he did, but he was taken aback by how much the realisation astonished him.

They hadn't entered Narnia randomly, or by mistake.

They'd been called. Summoned by their people. Perhaps for their support in life, perhaps to fight wars they couldn't.

Susan was the first to recover speech, and she spoke loudly, shocked yet admonishing, like a teacher who had found something undesirable in a student's hands.
"What Horn?"

Trumpkin stared at her, and began to pull himself up to his feet.
"Why- your Horn." He said, frowning in a different way than he had been so far. Now he looked concerned, more than frustrated. "Your legendary Horn- Queen Susan. The one gifted to you by the Saint of Christmas, Santa Claus."

Lucy let out an involuntarily giggle- Santa being spoken of as a mythical hero was funny to her- and Susan frowned at her, before asking again, "I was not aware that my Horn was powerful enough to call us from another world. Who called us, have you any idea?"

"He does. He knows." Edmund piped up, looking at Trumpkin's face, suddenly flushed. He sensed that the dwarf had something to do with the caller using the Horn, and he wondered what that was about.
Had he forced them to call the Kings and Queens of Old?
But he doubted it. Trumpkin had clearly lost faith in them years ago, and he doubted even the presence of his sister's Horn would have reawakened that faith.

"Well, then?" Peter asked, rather aggressively, taking a step towards Trumpkin. "Who was it? A Narnian?"

"I wish." Trumpkin's tone was disdainful, almost bitter. "It was a Telmarine. Was fleeing from something, by the looks of it, and ran into our woods. It was while we tried to apprehend him, that I was caught by those savage humans and taken to be gawked at and killed."

"Why would a Telmarine have my Horn?" Susan spoke tightly, trembling with a fury that concerned her. But her Horn- just as her bows and arrows- was like her child. She did not want her children away from her. "If anything, it should belong to the Narnians- or our descendants! Surely, there are some of our bloodline still living!"