The Price of Failure

Summary: Five years after his coronation, a series of internal and external threats put the High King's leadership to the test. As he struggles to solve his kingdom's woes, Peter fails to notice the biggest danger of all…the assassin sent to take his life.

Golden Age Fic.

Peter-centric (with a heavy dose of Edmund).

Disclaimer: I do not, of course, own Narnia, nor do I possess a fraction of Lewis' genius

A/N I usually hate when stories begin by focusing on an original character, but alas, I have attempted such an opening. The plot bunny will not leave me, so here it is. This should be the only Pevensie- lite chapter, and I hope it is tolerable. Tried very hard not to make her too Mary Sue, but let me know if that has been a success or not. Any feedback is good! It has been ages since I read the books (I am reading them again, but am only on Prince Caspian) so I hope I have not made any massive blunders on the details.

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She could finally see the bright lights of Cair Paravel in the distance.

After an agonizingly long and lonely journey, her destination was within her grasp, but the stoic look on her face as she rode through the thick Narnian forest showed no joy at this realization. Unlike the many dignitaries, nobles and citizens who often flocked to the palace, she did not anticipate a pleasant visit. She wished that she could turn back now and ride off into obscurity without completing the grim task at hand…but she knew that that was not an option.

She had, like many others of her generation, grown up hearing glorious stories about the early years of the Narnian court and she, along with the rest of her village on the island of Doorn, had rejoiced when she heard the news of the White Witches defeat and the arrival of the four kings and queens of the prophecy. She could remember the day that the happy news arrived; she and her sister had stayed up well into the night, partaking in the local festivities and vowing that they would one day, together, visit the wonderful kingdom of Narnia. They had dreamt of kings and queens, talking animals, dancing fauns, and magnificent balls held in (what they imagined to be) the elegant great hall of the Cair. As they drifted off to sleep, both had asked Aslan for the chance to one day visit the place that had now been restored to its former glory.

She sighed and tired to bury the recollection. It had only been five years since that night, but it felt like a lifetime ago. So much had changed since then, and she now found herself making the once desired trek to Cair Paravel alone; her childish wish had come true, but certainly not in the way she had once hoped. Five years ago, she would have given almost anything for the chance to venture out of her small village. Now, she wished that this had never come to pass.

Glancing up at the darkening sky, she nudged her horse to speed up his trot. Nothing could be gained from prolonging this miserable expedition, and she knew it was best not to spend her time mulling over the situation. She could not afford to back out or have second thoughts, too much rested on her success.

Her family, her village, and her life, hinged on her actions over the upcoming weeks.

As much as she hated the situation, failure would come with a heavy cost. One that she could not think she could bear.

The horse, though tired from their long journey, could sense his lady's urgency, and began moving towards the Cair as fast as his exhausted legs could carry him. She gave him an affectionate pat as they surged ahead.

"Thank you, old friend." She whispered, her fingers lingering in his dark mane. "I am glad to have your company."

Not being native to the area, and thus unable to verbally reply, he gave a slight nod, and hoped that whatever was troubling his lady would soon be remedied.

Her eyes remained fixed on the palace as it continued to draw nearer and nearer. She wished that she could ignore the dread building in the pit of her stomach, but it was already too powerful to ignore. All she wanted was to be back in the village, helping her mother with the harvest, or enjoying her sister's company by the firelight. Such things had once seemed so incredibly mundane, and it was a shame that it had taken the upheaval of the last few months to make her appreciate what she had once had.

The arrival of Lord Daegan's troops had signalled the beginning of the end.

At first, the village had simply been confused by the sudden appearance of a number of armoured men on the edge of their settlement, but business had gone on as usual. People had tended to their crops, cared for their families, gathered to share music and stories- not much had changed, though many could not push the ominous presence of the mysterious soldiers from the back of their minds. Some, in secret late night meetings held by concerned members of the community, proposed approaching the new arrivals, and asking them (or even forcing them) to leave the village. Others had felt this to be too perilous, and preferred instead to ignore their presence and hope that they soon moved on. In the end, most had agreed that it is best to wait it out, and see if the uneasy situation would pass.

Looking back, this now seemed to be their first big mistake.

Weeks had passed, and the men (who set up a camp on the edge of town) had not left. Thankfully, they had not yet entered the main village either, and a lack of incidents had discouraged any aggressive action from the villagers. If they were left alone, they were willing to carry on as usual.

As the harvest began, however, the situation changed. Rumour had it that the mysterious soldiers were becoming low on rations, and people began to see the men edging closer to the town. Soon, some began to enter, and the community was outraged when one of the solders affronted Edern, one of the oldest men in the village, and demanded that he give the corn he had gathered for the market to troops without payment. Edern had tried to refuse, but the old widower could do little to hold off the armed young man.

After this, a group of the village's strongest men had been appointed to approach the solders and demand that they state their purpose. Some had come back beaten and bruised, but the information they desired had been obtained.

They were Lord Daegan's men, it was reported. Few had heard of this mysterious lord before but, according to the solders, he had recently overthrown the rightful ruler of their Island and was hoping to bring of the Lone Islands under his control. Most fell silent at the news, not knowing what now lay ahead.

A few weeks later, a particularly brutish looking solder had entered the village square and declared that Lord Deagan's mission had been a success, and that all Islanders were now obliged to pay tribute to he and his men. To this particular group of soldiers at least, "pay tribute" had meant surrendering most of the harvest to the troops, and much of the food the village had stored for the long winter ahead was forcibly taken. The villagers had been intimidated into giving up their sustenance, and many feared that they would not be able to feed their families during the coming months. Pleas to the soldiers for mercy fell on deaf ears, however, and many fell into a state of dread and helplessness.

She could remember her mother putting on a brave face, and assuring her and her sister that they would make it through the winter alive and well. "We'll just have to make do." She had said, her smile not masking the worry in her eyes. "We are a resourceful people, and we will find a way."

She had tried to believe her, but as the leaves began to fall and the rations became smaller and smaller, she could not suppress her doubts.

As bad as things had begun to look, however, she could never have anticipated what was to come next.

It had been a chilly autumn day, and she awoke to the sound of a loud and foreboding horn being blown at the edge of the village. She tried to ignore the now-familiar feeling of hunger in her stomach, and had dressed quickly to see what the commotion was about. Her mother and sister following close behind, she made her way to the town square where, it seemed, most of the village was slowly gathering. No one seemed to know what was going on, but the curiosity and worry was apparent on almost all of their faces.

After several tense minutes, one of the solders rode into the crowd, and unrolled the large piece of parchment in his hands.

"His most esteemed majesty Lord Daegan, King of the Lone Islands, has graced this humble village with his presence" He read, "All subjects, grateful as they must be for his rightful and just rule over these noble islands, must kneel in his majesties presence and demonstrate the respect fitting of his position."

Though none were grateful for their current predicament, they knew that they had little choice but to follow the orders. She could remember the burning hatred she had felt as she slowly knelt down on the rough stone road, waiting for the arrival of the "most esteemed" Lord.

He had entered to the sound of triumphant horns, adorned in furs and jewels which would have seemed excessive for even the High King of Narnia. Doubtlessly bought with the stolen money of villagers like themselves, she had thought bitterly.

He had instructed them all to rise, with a seemingly benevolent smile on his face, and wove his way through the crowd on a large brown steed. Occasionally, he would speak to one of the townspeople, instructing them to kiss his outstretched hand, or show their subservience with an extra bow. As he edged closer to where she and her family stood, she could remember staring down at the cobblestone road, and praying to Aslan that he would not ask her to show such signs of respect. She wasn't sure if she could do it without revealing her extreme dislike of the situation. He had no right to send his men there to disturb the peace and take their food, and he certainly had no rightful claims over the Islands he now claimed to rule.

"And who is this fair young maiden?" She had heard him ask in a sickeningly sweet voice. He was close now, and for a moment she thought he was speaking to her. She had jerked her head up and turned abruptly, only to see a sight which made her blood boil. He had not been addressing her but, much to her disgust, had reached out to stroke her sister's smooth dark hair. Daegan looked at the young girl with longing in his eyes and, if she had had any food in her stomach, she was certain that she would have been unable to keep it down.

"Maive." She heard her sister reply with a tremble. "My name is Maive."

"Lovely," Daegan had replied, his eyes still transfixed on the girl who had not yet seen her sixteenth summer. "Perhaps you would like the honour of visiting me and my men at our camp this evening."

He made it sound like a request, but all listening knew that Maive would have no choice if his mind became set on the idea.

She filled with panic as he watched him touch her sister. She had to do something, she couldn't let this continue…

"No!" The protest had not been hers but rather her mothers, who had a similar look of fear and dread on her face.

Lord Daegan had turned to the older woman, anger flashing in his eyes.

"My daughter will not come with you." She said, her quaking knees showing that her brave words were only a façade.

He simply stared at her for a moment, his gaze cold and calculating. "You have no say in the matter, woman." He stated, gesturing at one of his guards to come forward. "I can have who and what I wish."

Maive looked terrified, her eyes filling with tears as one of the guards seized her roughly and whispered something inaudible in her ear.

She could hear her mother begin to sob helplessly as another guard came forth to retrain her from moving towards her youngest daughter.

"No, please!" The older daughter protested, unable to standby and watch those dearest to her suffer. "Let her be." She paused, straightening her shoulders and holding up her head defiantly. "Take me. You can have me instead."

"Adara, no!" Her mother cried, helplessly retrained by the burly solder. "Leave my girls. Please, leave my girls."

Other villagers had begun to edge towards the scene, but none knew what they could do to help. They had no weapons, and were not trained fighters. Any who tried to protest the apprehension of the family would undoubtedly be crushed in seconds.

Daegan had simply smiled, taking some sort of sick pleasure from the suffering he had inflicted. Reaching down, he had brushed her cheek with a rough hand and his sour breath swept across the side of her neck. "Not nearly as beautiful as the young one." He muttered, clearly not satisfied with the proposed trade "But perhaps some of my men will enjoy your company."

Adara had felt one of the guards restrain her and Daegan gestured for his men to follow him, with both sisters in tow. She felt numb as she was marched out of the village and towards the camp. She could hear her sister's sobs and, as she looked back, she could see that one of the guards had flung their mother roughly against the stone road where she lay immobile, surrounded by sympathetic villagers. She could only hope that she was not too badly injured.

The next few days had felt like months. She could hear her sisters' cries at night, but was unable to help her. They were chained, in separate tents, close enough to hear each others anguish, but too far apart to offer any comfort.

She did not see Daegan for several days, but she could hear when he went to her sister. She supposed that his exaggerated level of noise was intended to make her suffer, and she had no choice but to listen to his joyous moans and her sister's painful cries throughout the long dark nights. It made her sick.

As promised, she was visited as well, by several of the soldiers. She refused to show her pain, however, and simply lay emotionless as they had their way. It was easier that way, and she did not want them to see how helpless she felt.

She still did not know how long she had been chained in that dreadful tent, but after what felt like ages (but was probably only a week or two), Lord Daegan came to call.

At first she thought (and hoped) that he had tired of her sister and was ready to inflict his torture on her instead. But, she soon realized, he had come with a very different purpose.

"I have a proposition for you, girl." He had said, his ruby encrusted crown glinting in the dim moonlight. "As you are well aware, I have taken much pleasure in my time with your dear young sister and, although I wish our time together could continue, I am willing to release the girl." He paused. "If you do something for me first."

Adara, who had been trying very hard not to show any emotion, had faltered as he offered her a glimmer of hope.

He smiled his horrible, sour smile. "I see that this has peaked your interest, girl." He said, with a hollow laugh.

She tried to regain her composure. "What must I do?" She asked, her tone even and her eyes locked on his.

Daegan paused for another moment, and reached out to smooth her tousled locks. "You may not have the same beauty your sister possesses." He began. "But I think you will do well enough with the task at hand."

Silence fell over the tent. Again, she began to think that he was ready to take her in exchange for Maive, but this was not what he had in mind.

"I will release you, girl." He continued, his eyes shimmering with anticipation. "And outfit you with clothing befitting of a lady."

She said nothing.

"My ambition to take the Islands has been met," Daegan stated. "But my ambition does not stop here; this is only the beginning."

She stared up at him, hoping that she did not look worried or intrigued by this declaration, and wondering why he felt the sudden need to share his plans with a peasant girl. What did she have to do with his construction of a horrible empire?

"If I stop now, there is no doubt that the other Kingdoms will, in time, move against me." He paused. "Unless I acquire a position of even more power." He paused again and flashed her another sickening grin. "Narnia will fall next," he declared. "And you will set everything in motion."

Adara froze, unsure of what to make of this new information. Surely he was out of his mind. Overthrowing governors and declaring oneself the head of the Lone Islands was one thing, but to take Narnia was quite another. It was impossible, especially since the arrival of the Four. No deranged Lord could achieve this, not even one as cruel and ruthless as Daegan.

He smirked, and she realized that she had once again let down her stoic façade. "Do not doubt my skills, young one. I have had spies in the Narnian court for years, and those followers of the White Witch who have been driven into hiding are being rallied as we speak to help put a more appropriate ruler in Cair Paravel."

"Then why do you need me?" She spat, unable to hide her anger any longer. "Why can't you let my village be and set about this conquest far from here? We have given you no reason to stay and torment us."

The smirk remained plastered on his face. "I have been enjoying my time in this village, young one." He stated. "And I see it is a good resting place before I do move onto better things. I never intended to stay this long, but your sister has proved to be a most satisfying conquest in her own right. You should know by now that I do enjoy a good conquest."

Adara's eyes narrowed, but she remained silent.

"I have decided to stay here until the next phase of the plan has been set in motion and that, my dear, is where you come in." He paused, and his smirk turned into a twisted grin. "You will ride to Cair Paravel and gain admittance to the castle, as a noble guest. You will do all that you can to gain the friendship and trust of the Royal Four and, as soon as the opportunity presents itself, youwill assassinate the High King, throwing the kingdom into chaos and making way for my armies to seize the castle."

She froze.

Surely he wasn't serious. Killing the High King was the highest of treasons, there was no way she would ever do such a thing.

"No." She spat, no longer caring about concealing her emotions. "I cannot. I will not."

"You can, and will." Daegan hissed, leaning towards her. "You will be released to carry out this task, but if you do not return to me by winters end with news of the High Kings death, I will take out my anger and disappointment on your village." He paused. "And your family."

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she thought about the scenario. It was a harsh ultimatum indeed. Kill the king, the man who had brought such peace and hope to his people, or sacrifice her entire village and allow her mother and sister to fall prey to Daegan and his men, indefinitely.

Her instinct told her to refuse the offer outright. That would be the noble thing to do. To tell him that she would rather die them carry out this grim task- but another part of her knew that he would simply find some other poor soul to do his bidding, and make her watch as everything she knew and loved was obliterated.

She wondered, for a moment, why she should care about the fate of the High King at all. Granted, Narnia had (before Daegan at least) had some over lordship over the Islands, but she did not know this man, and did not see why his life should be valued over those of her family and village by virtue of his title alone. She tired to shake the thought from her mind, knowing it was treason to even let such doubts pass through her, but it still gnawed on the edge of her consciousness.

"What is your decision, young one." Daegan asked, his breath brushing against her neck as it had that first horrible day he had appeared. "I have little patience and am happy to take my vengeance on these people, and your lovely sister, should you refuse me.

She could feel herself shaking, and it seemed as if the entire would was crashing down. Why her? Why this? She could see no reason why she should be given such a torturous choice.

The great Aslan clearly had little care for her and her insignificant village, she thought bitterly.

"Yes." She choked, feeling as if she was no longer attached to her frail body. "I will go."

Daegan smiled. "Good." He stated simply, his cape swinging behind him as he moved towards the tent door. "Remember the price of failure."

His final words rang in her ears for the rest of that sleepless night.

She had left the next morning at sunrise, without being permitted to bid her mother or sister farewell. She still did not know how her injured mother was faring after that horrible day in the town square, and could only hope that the woman was recovering with the help of their friends and neighbours.

After a boat ride to the mainland, she had set off through the thick forests towards Cair Paravel, stopping each evening for a short rest and living off of the small rations Daegan had provided. She had not seen him after their last conversation, but one of his guards had provided her with supplies and instructions on the morning of her departure, giving her forged documentation to show that she a Doorn noblewoman and reminding her that Daegan's Narnian spies would be sending reports of her progress to the Lord.

Giving her horse another light pat as they edged ever closer to their destination, Adara tried not to dwell on the horrors of the past few months or the task ahead. She tried to focus instead on her mother and sister and think about the happiness they could share again if she were successful in her mission. She would give almost anything to hear Maive's light-hearted laugh again, though she feared that recent experiences may have extinguished it forever.

Painfully aware of the dagger strapped to her side, she pushed ahead, feeling as numb as she had since Daegan's men had seized her.

She wanted it all to be over.

She wanted to return home, and return to the simple things that she had never before appreciated.

She wanted her family and village safe and happy again.

Unfortunately, all that she wished could only be realized if she was able carry out Daegan's will.

She had to kill High King Peter.

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A/N Review if you think I should continue.