wis·dom
/ˈwizdəm/
noun
the quality of having experience, knowledge, and good judgment; the quality of being wise.
Narnia had always been a free country, until she came along. Jadis was the devil in disguise, and she brought to the kingdom an eternal...
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"Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful." - Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Narnia, 1004
Oreius did not take long to arrive in the war room, only to be met with disaster.
Peter tugged desperately on his hair, mumbling something under his breath. Olivia was sitting down on a couch, her gaze fixed on the floor and playing with the Kirke dagger in her hands (Kirke dagger was the name given by Lucy to the dagger Olivia always had on her that had been given by her grandfather); Edmund had a book in his hands as he paced around the room, hand in chin in deep thought.
The centaur used his hand to call one of the guards, blocking the view of the faun-guard that came so he wouldn't see the disaster in the room.
"Please call Queens Lucy and Susan, and arrange some chocolate and tea. And biscuits!" The guard nodded and headed away from Oreius' sight, deep into the corridors to retrieve the Queens and the food asked.
As the centaur closed the door behind him, entering the room, the three pairs of eyes dashed to him immediately. Oreius focused his gaze on the Queen, who still had a mark of tears on her cheek.
"Peter. Hand him the letter." In the girl's mind, she could not show weakness, especially in front of Oreius, the General of centaurs. So, when the girl noticed the centaur staring at her, she quickly tried wiping the mark of tears and recomposed herself.
The High King shakily held a letter in his hands, and without averting his gaze from the book, he handed it to Oreius.
The centaur sighed, practically throwing the letter back on the table. "So, we either call the bluff and risk our army or hand over Aslan. Except the second option is not plausible." Oreius looked at the distressed Olivia. "My Queen, do you wish for some tea?"
"I need something stronger than tea."
Olivia's eyes scanned the room. They landed on the map of Narnia, on the books, on Peter, on Edmund, on Oreius. She stood up, thinking of a strategy.
"We have two options." She said rapidly, primarily to herself, but the others listened nonetheless. "Diplomats. Diplomats. Armies!" Olivia exclaimed, slapping her own hand. But her gaze grew cold, and Peter furrowed his brow.
"We may call the bluff, but the Zartarians will have an army nonetheless." Olivia whispered. "People will die anyway. "
She clenched and unclenched her jaw. Sacrifice. The last thing Olivia saw was the tip of Jadis' blade on her stomach and the feeling of her veins running cold. The girl shivered at the memory.
You only know how much the past has affected you until it repeats itself.
"No. No way." Edmund stepped towards Olivia, interrupting her trail of thought. He looked at her sternly, like he was almost to blow up her head.
