Daggers of Ice

Chapter 49

Aslan's Country.

Edmund.

Edmund knew he was dead; no one could be stopped by a train going at full speed. But what he wasn't sure of was where he was – Aslan's country.

He could hear Lucy gasping with pleasure. It was Narnia, yet everything seemed somewhat different. The colours were brighter, more true. Somehow more real.

And then he was staring at the people who came forwards to greet them. The beavers, Mr. Tumnus, Oreius and his family. Everywhere he looked there were familiar faces.

"We're home!" Lucy's cry was one of pure joy and he saw her rushing forward. It was Faelar, the northman, who picked her up and spun her around, who showered small kisses over her face before claiming her lips.

It couldn't be...

And then he was searching each face that moved forward, rushing to greet him. But they were all wrong.

Eustace was gripping the forearm of a dark-haired man, who had a beautiful auburn-haired beauty on his arm.

Caspian was there, with the star smiling up at him, her long blonder hair blowing in the wind.

Asura found herself in Peter's arms, his brother looking happier than he had in years.

So many smiles.

Yet there was one face that was missing.

Where did Aslan take her if not to His country? Did he have something else in mind for Arianna? Had he taken her back to desolate Charn, where she had been conceived?

She had been a Queen of Narnia.

She had been his queen.

He had made her one.

No, her people had made her one.

"Edmund."

Time froze as everything in his body froze at the sound of that voice. Her voice. He turned slowly, hoping that it not just been his hopes that imagined the soft word, spoken with such longing.

But then she was there, not three feet from him.

Her smile was soft, almost shy. Her emerald eyes were overbright in her honey face, her lips curled upward in that smirk he knew so well as he stared at her. She was dressed as she always was in his dreams, in soft leather breeches and a cotton shirt that was belted at the waist with a band of silver. Her hair was unbound, undulating around her body in dark waves.

It was as if he couldn't breathe.

Images flashed before his eyes: the pretty girl in an emerald dress and gold mask. The same girl before him, regal and austere in a gown of white and a crown of crystals. Then she was laughing as they sparred, blades dancing across each other as their words did. Her lifeless body cradled in his arms, his tears falling on her face.

Her face on the day they were wed, that heavenly smile that seemed to outshine the stars.

Then his arms were around her, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat; her small delicate frame which he'd not held since that day they'd chased the white stag into the forests.

"You won't ever lose me," she said softly, her hands trembling as she touching his face. Softly, so softly. As if she thought he was going to disappear. Her forehead rested on his, her impossibly green eyes looking up into his. "Never, ever."

"Never." And then he kissed her.