The High Queen II

Stubborn

Eleanor leaned back against the cold stone pillar, her eyes closed as the council's voices rose and fell around her. The familiar ache of old battles stirred within her, mingling with the weight of the present, and though she looked composed, the tension in her jaw revealed that she was anything but relaxed. She was listening, intently, to every word exchanged, especially Peter's—driven by that same unyielding determination that had exhausted her patience more times than she could count.

"It's only a matter of time," Peter was saying, urgency lacing his tone. "Miraz's men and his war machines are on their way. And that means those same men aren't protecting his castle."

Reepicheep's eyes brightened at this, the mouse warrior straightening with the excitement of battle. "What do you propose we do, Sire?" he asked, his voice sharp with anticipation.

Peter's gaze shifted toward Caspian, his jaw set in that familiar line of resolve. "Our only hope is to strike them before they strike us."

Caspian's face clouded with doubt, and he shook his head. "But that's madness. No one has ever taken that castle." His voice was calm but firm, weighted by the practical wisdom of someone who understood the risks of such an endeavor.

"There's always a first time," Peter replied, a fire in his eyes. He spoke as though he could will the victory into existence through sheer determination alone.

Caspian's gaze flickered to Eleanor, who still leaned back against the pillar with her eyes closed. From his angle, she might have looked indifferent, or even asleep, but he couldn't help wondering what she was thinking. Did she support Peter's plan? Or was she, like him, hesitant about charging into a fortress that no one had ever conquered?

"Peter's right," Trumpkin chimed in, nodding. "If we catch them off guard, we'll have the element of surprise."

Caspian crossed his arms, unconvinced. "We have the advantage here. This place may not be a fortress, but it's strong enough for a stand."

Susan's frustration cut through the debate like an arrow. "If we dig in, we could probably hold them off indefinitely. We don't have to go looking for a fight."

Trufflehunter's calm voice joined hers, steady and resolute. "I, for one, feel safer underground. The earth has protected us before."

Peter shot a frustrated look at Caspian, his tone laced with thinly veiled impatience. "Look, I appreciate what you've done, but this isn't a fortress. It's a tomb."

Edmund nodded in agreement, arms crossed. "And if the Telmarines are smart, they'll just starve us out."

From the sidelines, Pattertwig, ever the optimist, piped up with his own suggestion. "We could collect nuts!"

Reepicheep, bristling with impatience, couldn't hold back his retort. "Oh yes, and throw them at the Telmarines! Shut up, Pattertwig." He turned back to Peter, his fierce little form resolute. "I think you know where I stand on this, Sire. Lead us into battle, and I shall follow without hesitation."

Peter turned to Glenstorm, the silent centaur warrior, whose presence alone commanded respect. "If I can get your troops in, can you handle the guards?" he asked.

Glenstorm inclined his head solemnly. "Or die trying, my liege."

Lucy, who had been watching the exchange with a growing look of unease, finally stepped forward. "That's what I'm worried about," she said softly, though there was an edge of steel in her voice.

Peter glanced back at her, irritation creeping into his tone. "Sorry?"

Lucy held his gaze, her face set in quiet determination. "You're all acting like there are only two options: dying here, or dying there."

Peter's expression darkened, and his eyes flickered to Eleanor briefly before he replied to Lucy, as if seeking silent support. "I'm not sure you've really been paying attention, Lu—much like Ellie." His voice held a note of accusation, barely concealed.

At this, the corners of Eleanor's lips quirked upward, and a spark of wry amusement glinted in her eyes, though she remained silent for the moment. Lucy, however, did not take the slight lightly.

"No, you're not listening, Peter," Lucy shot back, her voice clear and unwavering. "Or have you forgotten who really defeated the White Witch, Peter?"

A charged silence fell over the council, and all eyes slowly turned to Eleanor. She remained still, arms crossed, eyes closed, as if she were removed from the tension that now electrified the air. But then, with a deep, measured exhale, Eleanor straightened, her gaze sweeping over the room.

"Peter, relax," she said finally, stepping forward with a calm authority that filled the space. "I've been paying attention, trust me." Her voice was firm, carrying an edge of authority that commanded silence. "And while your plan has merit,"—she cast a glance at Caspian—"it's reckless to ignore advice from someone who knows Narnia as it is now, not as we left it."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but Eleanor raised a hand, silencing him with a look. "You're as stubborn as ever, I'll give you that," she continued, a faint, knowing smile softening her tone. "But if you're dead set on this charge into Miraz's stronghold, then I'll lead the troops myself." Her voice was steady, but beneath it was a fierce resolve. "Because I won't stand by and abandon Narnia—not again."

Her words settled heavily in the room, the weight of her conviction clear. Peter's defiance wavered, if only for a moment, and he looked at his sister, realizing the depth of her determination and it scared him.

 She turned, catching Aelwyn's eye from across the room. "Aelwyn," she called, her voice carrying the weight of a seasoned leader. "Rally our strongest flyers, they need to be fast, agile and able to carry us." She then turned to address everyone, "Prepare for battle. I want our forces ready to move by sundown."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Aelwyn responded with a bow, turning to gather the messengers who would spread the word. The council members dispersed, murmuring among themselves as they hurried to make ready.

Eleanor then turned to Peter and Caspian, a hint of warmth in her voice even as her gaze held a steely edge. "And for the sake of all of us, you two had better learn to get along, and fast. This is about more than either of you."

She let her words sink in, giving them both a pointed look. Then, with one last glance around the room, she left to check her armour and ready her axe, feeling the familiar weight of Narnia's fate on her shoulders once more.