A/N: What's that, you say? Another chapter? Yes! I promise I won't let this story languish...somehow or other I'll see it through. I will say that all the Caspian stuff I've been seeing and hearing lately has refueled my imagination. I'll also admit my last chapters haven't been the best, but I've started the next chapter already, and I feel like it's coming easier and the writing's better. Comments and reviews (even harsh ones!) are much appreciated. By the way, I redid chapter 12 from Edmund's point of view and changed things around a bit; if you haven't checked it out, I recommend you do so before this chapter. Thanks to everyone who randomly favorites and alerts and reviews this story--your notice is very much appreciated. And now, without further ado...

The Old Alliance

(Lucy)

I had a hard time remembering that Anvard wasn’t friendly to us. When I woke in the morning, I looked out my window to see the sun rising over the trees just as I had done a thousand years before when Lune reigned over Anvard. In the time when my brother reigned over Cair Paravel. Archenland still smelled the same, fresh and woodsy and lively, and when I stood at the window with my cup of tea I half expected Corin to come barreling into the room with plans for an adventure for the day. I had mostly gotten used to Narnia being a thousand years older, but Archenland was quite another matter. It was like when we got back to London after everything and I saw that my lovely old neighbor’s house was a gaping hole in the street. I couldn’t comprehend that Edmund would never eat teacakes by the dozen there or Susan play with the cats, just as I couldn’t understand that there would be no jolly greeting from Lune, and I wouldn’t hear Corin’s laugh.

One morning I was up at dawn, far before the rest of the castle was stirring. I liked the dawn; I always had, but even more especially since we had been on the Dawn Treader and seen the sunrises at the end of the world. That woodsy dawn was a grey one, however, without a sun over a sparkling sea, and the chill in the air made me feel lonely. I didn’t want to bother Edmund, who was starting to get headaches from constantly thinking a way out of the problem. He was tying himself up in knots, and I could see that he needed rest more than anything else. Aravis wasn’t awake to talk to either; I had become very fond of her because she looked like her namesake but acted like Corin. I knew that Caspian was up, probably watching the sunrise over the sea from the balcony at Cair Paravel, and for a moment I longed to be with him. I thought about waking up with him every day and watching the sunrise together. He would come up behind me and wrap his arms around me, and rest his chin on my shoulder…

I didn’t let myself linger on Caspian for long. I couldn’t, because I would start to miss him too much, and once I started, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop. And then from Caspian it would be a short jump to missing Susan and Peter and it hurt so much to be in Narnia without them that I couldn’t bear to dwell on it for long, even three years on. To distract myself, I dressed and took a walk around the quiet castle. I knew all the passageways by heart from all my games with Corin, and I thought of him as I wandered around. Susan was like a surrogate mother to him, but Corin and I were best friends, always laughing and talking together. I wondered what had become of him. Did he marry? Was he happy? I tried to picture Corin holding a baby, and in my mind he looked so awkward and surprised that I had to smile to myself.

As if in answer to my question I came across an old portrait in a gilt frame, showing both twins and their families, and sure enough Corin had a merry looking wife and a brood of children with his messy, curly hair and bright eyes. They were so engaging I quite forgot to look at Cor and Aravis and their son. I let my eyes travel upward and saw Corin as a man, broad shouldered and bulky but still looking boyish. I liked to think that he was happy. I wished I could have talked to him about it, or met his children and learned their names. I touched his painted cheek and continued down the hall.

The library at Anvard was sparser than the one at Cair Paravel, and this still held true. Caspian had been amassing volumes since his coronation, and Edmund had tripled the collection since our return. By contrast, Anvard’s library had plenty of wall space for portraits and tapestries, whereas Cair Paravel had books from floor to ceiling. I wandered around, looking at the Archenlandish royal family through the centuries, seeing here and there Aravis’ olive skin or almond eyes, or the twins’ blond curls, or Corin’s merry eyes that he inherited from Lune. I wandered in the cobwebby corner almost by mistake and there I found some old portraits that I remembered sitting for as if it were yesterday—Corin and I caught laughing together; Edmund on horseback with Cor; Peter standing by Lune’s chair; Susan with both twins.

I clenched my hands into fists. It was so stupid. Nain should trust us! I thought in my outrage. Why would we lie? Why throw away such close ties with Narnia? Who were these Telmarines that spoiled the good name of Narnia so—or perhaps Nain is just stubborn as an Archenlandish mountain goat. Either way, this must change. I can see Sebastien is only looking to use Archenland, just as Wensted wanted to use Narnia. We only want to extend the hand of friendship. Caspian restored Narnia, and so we are going to restore this alliance. That’s all there is.

I knew Aravis agreed with me. She begged for stories and showed me all her haunts in the castle. She was always delighted to hear when Corin and I haunted the same places. She was lively and smart and quite the talker, just the sort of child that adults overlook but who is most worth listening to. I knew—I had been that sort of child back in England.

We sat one day in the window seat of my room, watching Cole and Renna walking on the ramparts. Aravis crossed her arms and sulked. “Cole and I used to walk on the ramparts together. Ever since Renna came it’s as though he doesn’t know me and Papa anymore. And the worst part is that Papa doesn’t even care! He says the alliance is good for the country, so it doesn’t matter that we’re losing Cole.”

“A good alliance means that neither has to make a concession, but both sides come together of their own accord,” I murmured, quoting Edmund. Aravis started to puzzle this over and I let my gaze trail downwards to the courtyard. As if talking about my brother called him to my attention, I noticed he was standing in a tight knot with two other people. Occasionally one of the three would squint up at the ramparts as Aravis and I were doing. In this way that I saw Lord Tristan was with him, as well as a chestnut haired girl with a sharp nose and sad eyes. I leaned further out to get a better look at her. “Who is she?” I asked.

“Renna,” Aravis answered, annoyed that I should forget something so important.

I shook my head. “No, not Renna. Down there, with my brother. Who is she?”

“Oh! That’s Lady Anya. She was great friends with Cole and Tristan growing up, but now she’s engaged and she’s going to move to the south, near Hermit’s Glen. She doesn’t want to go very much.” Aravis twisted her mouth when she spoke.

“Why not?” I asked, unable to hide my curiosity.

“Because she doesn’t love her future husband, but they’re making her marry him anyway because he’s rich and her family doesn’t have a lot of money.” She scowled. “Queen Lucy, I don’t like any of this. In the old stories, Queen Aravis came to Archenland because it was a nice place to live, where women didn’t have to marry anyone they didn’t want to. Now Anya is being forced into marriage and Cole is…well they’re practically selling him to Galma. What if I’m next?”

I took her by the shoulders and said to her gently, “Aravis, listen. If all goes as we hope, the alliance between Narnia and Archenland will be restored, and I will help your father see that no one should have to marry against their will. You’ll be a free woman just as much as I am. You’re right—Aravis did come to Archenland for that exact reason—her father was forcing her to marry, and she thought death was a better fate than losing her freedom. Don’t worry. We’ll make it all right, somehow.”

Aravis looked a little cheered by this, and hugged me when she ran off to her lessons. I stayed in the window thinking. What had become of Archenland? What would Queen Aravis say to the fate of her line? And what of my friend Corin, who would have defended Susan’s right to refuse Rabadash to the death, meager as his swordsmanship was at the time. Something had gone wrong in this country. I remembered though that Caspian had helped teach me that everything can be put to rights eventually. I smiled at the thought of Narnia now, flourishing under Caspian’s rule as the country it was back in my day. I pushed down another bubble of homesickness.

As I was turning this over in my head, trying to find some spark of hope for Archenland, Edmund came in and sat himself down in an armchair. I turned my head to look at him. He arched his eyebrows, then sighed. “Things have changed here,” he said.

“I know,” I answered. “I know it too well. But the question is, do you think they can change back as they did in Narnia?”

He shrugged. “Anything’s possible.”

“Edmund!” I chided. “Don’t tell me diplomatically. Tell me honestly, as your sister.”

He rumpled his hair. “Well, we have friends. Tristan and his friend Anya are sympathetic to our cause.”

“So is Aravis,” I reminded him.

He nodded. “But the trouble is at the end of the day Nain has to agree. Nain and Cole. And I’ll tell you what, Lucy. I don’t like the Galmians sticking a finger in every pie. They’re plotting something.”

“Do you know what?” I asked leaning forward.

“No idea,” he said with a grimace and a sigh. “All I can guess is that they’re trying to strengthen their position by allying with a nation on the mainland. Possibly they want to break up the old alliance between Narnia and Archenland.”

“We can’t let that happen,” I said at once. “It’s too dangerous for Narnia now, it’s too important in our history.”

“That’s pretty much the long and short of it.”

“So what are we going to do?”

His eyes sparkled. “Ah. Now that—that I’m glad you asked me.” I bit my lip as I watched his face. Edmund’s brain turns over so fast, but I know him so well I can practically see the cogs ticking. I knew he had a plan already hatching and I leaned forward so that our heads were together.

“We need to use our friends; get them on our side. And then we need to find out if the people of Archenland will support us. And somehow—somehow Lu, we have to show the King who we are, and that we are truly friends. I would say we should ride in and save the day, but to create that situation would be tantamount to sabotage, wouldn’t it?”

I smiled a bit. “You would think of it, though.”

He gave me a shove on the shoulder as he laughed playfully. “Well, let's see what we find out then go from there.”

This is what we found out: that no one liked Renna, that people were almost afraid of Sebastien. But Archenland was also afraid of us. Narnia had been through such turmoil, and Miraz wasn’t a friend to anyone but himself that they felt we could all too easily double cross them. Only a handful trusted in the old legends, like Aravis and Anya and Tristan, but I knew that a handful could be enough.

I also found out that I was not a born diplomat. Edmund excelled at it. He had an ability to read people and a patience and skill for winning their confidence and turning them to his side. I did not. I could not double talk or sweet talk. Always, ever, the only thing I could do was speak the truth.

Then when I was in my bed at night I discovered that I missed Caspian. I missed his musical laugh, and the way his eyes would light up with a sudden idea. I missed the long hours we would spend talking together, when it hardly seemed like we were courting each other, we were just two old souls who had always gone along comfortably. Though it may have been wrong, I found I also missed the warmth of him, his golden skin, his touch. In dreams I tucked myself close to his body as I had that night before the fire, when he made my whole body sing with joy, but in reality my bed was cold. I was not a maid anymore, and I realized that I really couldn’t go back to it. I wondered if he was thinking of me.

And so our discoveries led to more questions. In the morning when I woke from a dream of Caspian and I saw Ed at breakfast, I wondered if he had ever let himself fall in love like that. To fall in love would be to let himself lose control, and there wasn’t a moment of Edmund’s life that wasn’t calculated. His charm was meticulous, but effective. While he schemed the restoration of the once famous alliance between Archenland and Narnia, the Lady Anya was falling in love with him. She was not one to simper like Renna, but whenever Edmund spoke, her head turned. When he walked into a room, she sat up a little straighter. These were all the simple telltale signs of a girl in love. I found it interesting that I could read those signs when I wasn’t able to before.

Anya’s story was a sad one—she had grown up with Tristan and Cole, the three of them always together. Only recently, her father betrothed her to a man from the south of Archenland who we had yet to see, but who she always spoke of with distaste. Tristan told me that her fiancé was 10 years her senior and half as smart.

Small wonder then that she watched Edmund with such avid eyes. Edmund had always been good looking, with his dark hair and his snapping black eyes, and women had always been drawn to him because he was so mysterious and aloof. Each one hoped she would be the one he would open up to, and Susan, Peter, and I watched him break heart after heart without so much as lifting a finger. He simply never turned around and saw them there.

Anya was a little different, though. She saw Edmund for who he was, not who she wanted him to be once she had gotten to know him. What’s more, she was an even match for him. She was quick enough to beat him at chess once or twice and give him a good game nearly every time. She was as witty and as smart. When I saw them together, his black head bent to her brown one as they pored over some piece of information, I wondered if Edmund could be happy with her. I hoped this would be the one time he saw someone.

He didn’t. He was so immersed in finding information and plotting to oust Galma that he couldn’t see anything so close to him. That was always Edmund’s problem; he saw the big picture, the world around him, but he could never see anything close to him. It made me sad, in a way, because Edmund deserved happiness as much as any of the rest of us.

I thought about this question of happiness. Do we have a right to work for our own happiness if we are Kings and Queens? The time before we had lived half full lives. Only Peter married, but he had no children. I was innocent, Edmund was blind. Susan had found someone to honestly love her at last, and there was even a wedding planned before we followed the Stag, but of course she never danced at her wedding. I had seen her dance with her betrothed, though, her face alight. He wasn’t a genteel man; he was a great bear of a noble woodsman. People would have thought him more suited to me than her, but he loved her. He had the warmest smile that he reserved just for her, and we were all sure that they would have a veritable litter of children. Susan was thrilled by the prospect. I started with the memory of Susan stroking her stomach and smiling secretly. I had never thought of it before, but now that I had done it, I wondered if perhaps she had lain with him. If perhaps there was a baby, if that was why she didn’t want to go any further after the Stag. If that was why she was so bitter when we came back. Had she lost a child? I chewed my thumbnail with a rising sense of panic. Did Aslan punish her? What if I was with child? Would he punish me?

My stomach clenched hard once, and then again. I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom and found that the pain was not just from panic—my courses had come. So I could not be with child. Still, I wondered. What would send us back? We were on borrowed time; we had almost gone back when we reached the end of the world. I didn’t know why Aslan had called us back to England the first time, and I didn’t know what would make us go now. And if we went, I would become a girl again. I would lose Caspian. I didn’t know what our mission here was, but I wanted it to go on forever, just to have the chance to stay.