Alliance

Chapter 6- Profectio

Profectio

Latin

Departure
-

they fluttered through the spreading sky and
brought you hurriedly down here,
by me,
upon the black soil
-

"This is going to be terrible."

Lucy groaned, "I always value your honesty, Sanya, but perhaps a little optimism too?"

"We might die fast and quick, so it'll be painless. Unless we starve to death." Sanya shrugged and leaned against the doors of her chambers. "I've always had more than enough to eat, so no doubt I'll be insufferable and ill on the journey."

"Well, none of us have ever starved, either! T'won't be a cakewalk for us, you know." The little Queen rolled her eyes. "But it'll be an adventure, so thrilling!"

Sanya let herself grin. "I suppose so. And we- I mean me, at least- we'll be seeing so much of Narnia. We'd rescue a child too- heroic. Would be amazing- granted, if we go by historical records and novels, it'll be a very difficult quest and there will be lots of obstacles on the way."
She did wonder- why had her husband looked as pale as death when they had mentioned the White Witch? She wasn't sure if Lucy would answer her query, so she didn't even try.

"No, there won't." Edmund said, joining them just as Lucy was contemplating stabbing his wife. "We've patrols all over Narnia, we would have known if there's anything untoward or unusual."

"Oh. Alright." Sanya answered, and Lucy was struck by the change in her- quite frankly, it was like she'd become the outermost shell of herself, burying her other layers deep. From being the full moon, it was like she had turned into the crescent- only a sliver of herself. "Well, night, Lucy."

"Good night, Sanya." She moved forward and hugged Sanya, who allowed the hug and herself a smile into Lucy's hair.
"Night, Ed." Lucy said as she looked at her brother, her bright smile dimming a bit as she thought of the nasty accusations she had thrown at him.

But Edmund's mind was on other things- on the past, of a cruel smile, of a thick white fur coat, and pink candy in a silver tin (he'd begged for it later on, the nasty greedy brat), of a fox being turned into a statue (because of his actions. Who else would inspire such a deed?), of being called a traitor (which he was, his mind whispered. Which he would've died for. Which he should have died for), of a white hand striking him so hard across the face that his lip had bled, of betraying his siblings for power and sweeties, of being stabbed in the gut and thinking that was his redemption, of dying for Narnia and his family and thinking that that was more than he deserved to get- and thus, he only said, absent in tone, "Good night, Lu."

Lucy replied with an unsure smile, and walked away.

"Come on." The Just said, pushing the door open for he and his wife to enter. "Go to sleep, we leave first thing in the morning."

Sanya had not the heart or the will to argue with him about this- or the desire.
She watched him pick up his work chronicle, and his quill. She wondered what his account for the day would be- and if he would be able to write with steady fingers or if his hand would shake.
"Alright." She said for the thousandth time since she'd been married, despite everything being the very opposite of alright.