Eyes of Our Enemy

By SpicyRoses

Disclaimer: Still don’t own Narnia.

Summary: There’s a dark side of Narnia that everyone would wish to ignore, but at the unexpected moment, it comes out…

Please note: There is some dispute on rather or not Lewis had the Narnian timeline created that most of us know of. Personally, I find it inconsistent with the books, thus I rarely use it. It’s sort of a habit of mine to give you a preface before the story begins, I guess I got that from Stephanie Meyer, so a nod to her on that. I had this idea to separate a subplot into a fan fic that would have been called ‘Dust,’ but at the moment it will be presented in ‘Eyes of Our Enemy.’

With much affection,

SpicyRoses

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But such people! ...whom I won’t describe because if I did the grown-ups would probably not let you read this book- Cruels and Hags and Incubuses, Wraiths, Horrors, Efreets, Sprites,Orknies, Wooses, and Ettins.

-The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, page 151

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Preface

Susan

Being bound and gagged wouldn’t be so terrifying if I couldn’t see what was happening before my eyes, but as it is, I can. If only I could reach them, or touch them and tell them it would be alright in the end. But will it?

I have a hard time telling even myself that Aslan will come, and protect us. My back is sore, and I’ve lost count of the days though it must have been only a few hours. I can’t stand this. Aslan, help me…

Don’t let me give in, Aslan, I plead as I see a horrible form of the Ghoul looming above me.

Protect them, Aslan, keep them save. Keep them sa-

The last thing I can remember is the coldness and fear in my enemy’s eyes, and then… a sweeping darkness overwhelming me.

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1949, England

They say you can tell a lot by someone’s eyes.

Mine were surely blank as I stared straight ahead, blocking out the sound of the Pastor’s prayer. I couldn’t fathom what had occurred this week was real. I tried to tell everyone I was alright. Did that make me a cold person? That I didn’t want to break down and sob out my heart’s story?

“…must be so horrid for her. Her whole family.”

My knuckles turned white as I clutched my purse, and before I could stop myself, my head snapped to the direction of the voice. It belonged to some distant relation of Professor Kirk, who I never met, though I do recognize two young adults sitting beside her. Victoria and George Hirst are-were, I corrected myself- friends of my younger brother, Edmund.

The traitor.

I froze in the pew. Where had that come from? Edmund no longer was the traitor, Aslan (I swallowed. In all honesty, I had tried to keep his name from my mind) had forgiven him. My shoes echoed in the Church as I followed the coffins through the doors. Outside it was snowing, and as the snowflakes fell from the sky, I started to remember names: Aslan, Orieus, Mr. Beaver… I shook my head, forgetting the guests.

The names didn’t leave me, no matter how hard I tried. Even when I opened the door to my small home, which was thirty minutes away from my deceased family’s, I couldn’t shake Narnia off me. It was always there; ready to embrace my mind again. The dark only made it worse as flickers of images long forgotten came prancing through my mind. I didn’t sleep that night, because I kept remembering.

I remembered the sound of Narnian waves dashed upon the rocks; the cry of seagulls; the laughter of Fauns and Talking Beasts. Somehow, through those sunny memories came the fears, and I wept for there was an enemy I had not yet conquered:

My past.

As I've written on my profile: I'm a slave to my muse. I couldn't wait till my other fanfics were completed, so I posted EOE. I know, it's insane posting yet another multi-chaptered fanfic, but in all honesty, I can't really help it.

Cheers,

SR