Author's Note: Another chapter? So soon? Well, don't get too excited because it's not insanely long, but I liked it, so I hope y'all do too. Don't forget to review.

Chapter 15- Blades

Peter let a grim smile spread his lips as a white minotaur and multiple other Fell Beasts entered the throne room, their hands in manacles, mud and blood caked on their faces and legs. Orieus shoved Forian forward with enough force to knock him to his knees.

"Do you know what brings you before my throne today, Forian?"

"Your throne room is a tad bare, little king."

The High King saw his sister's knuckles turn white as she dug her nails into the arms of her chair. "You will address the High King with respect," she commanded regally, voice rigid with anger.

"The whore is here, though. I see you're healing nicely."

Peter was on his feet in an instant, his hand at his sword, even as Forian received a staggering blow to the temple from Oreius. He strode forward as Forian recovered, his black eyes blinking rapidly to regain equilibrium.

"You will hold your tongue from further insults against the crown," Peter hissed, eyes flashing dangerously as he stood before the kneeling white minotaur. "You are brought here today to be judged for the kidnapping and selling of Princess Aaryn the Golden Hearted into slavery. Do you deny this charge?"

The beast was still struggling to regain his bearings. That, or he had the good since not to dig his grave any deeper with further insults. Peter hardly gave him the time to answer anyway, wanting to put the matter to rest as soon as possible.

"Then I, High King Peter the Magnificent of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, do hereby sentence you to execution by Rhindon's mighty blade for the kidnapping and enslavement of a royal personage."

With a flourish, Peter unsheathed his sword, swung it once about his head for momentum, and severed Forian's head from his body. The minotaur's head rolled backward and came to a stop at one of his companion's feet while his body pitched forward and fell flat against the cool stone floor.

Peter wiped his blade on the Fell Beast's formerly white fur before sheathing his sword.

"And so it shall be for any who dare harm a member of the royal family or any royal personage," Peter dictated, mostly for the benefit of the scribe who was was recording the day's proceedings. "My royal sister and I shall retire to our quarters to renew our efforts in returning Princess Aaryn to our beloved Narnia."

He extended an arm to Susan, who took his arm, her expression regal as they left the room. Peter couldn't help but feel sorry for the servants who would be assigned to dispose of the body.

"I'll return to my chambers and begin the letter writing, brother," Susan told him when they had walked a little ways. "I feel as if a great weight has been lifted off my chest, though, now that Forian is disposed with."

"I agree," Peter responded with a soft sigh, using his free hand to adjust the crown atop his head. "I feel like we're that much closer to finding her again."

"How do you think she's doing?" Susan asked quietly after a few more steps were taken. Her eyes searched his as she looked up at him. Peter looked away. He didn't want her to know what he suspected Namir would do to her, even if Susan was probably assuming the same. He didn't want her to know that when they found Aaryn- and he was certain they would find her because he wouldn't rest until they did- she may not be the same girl they had once known. He wrapped an arm around his sister and held her close.

"Aar's a fighter. She always has been."

"Aslan will keep her," Susan said, somewhat in response, though Peter suspected his sister was reassuring herself as much as him. "He'll keep her safe for us."

"Yes, He will."

Susan fell into her chair in a way that was far from ladylike. If Aaryn were here, her friend would have laughed and made fun of her for it. The Gentle queen folded her arms on her desk and dropped her head to rest on them, her nose barely touching the parchment of paper on her desk.

She wouldn't cry. She refused to.

She just felt so exhausted. It was one of those times when Susan wished she could step outside herself and give herself over to the overwhelming desire to hide away until the world righted itself. She just wanted someone else to deal with it.

But she and Peter were the only two royals in Cair Paravel right now and that meant immeasurably more responsibility than she even wanted to think about right now. The nation was in a state of panic over their lost princess. It had been almost two weeks since her capture and they would be eager to hear the news of Forian's capture and execution. That was Peter's job, though. He should be addressing the public any moment now.

Susan's job was to write.

Pushing herself up, Susan straightened her back, let out a breath, and reached for her quill. She needed to write a letter to each nation and each of Narnia's tributaries. That meant a letter for Archenland, Calormen, Ettinsmoor, the Lone Islands, the Seven Isles, Terebinthia, and even Galma. Normally, she would only dictate her message to the scribes and they would take care of the rest, but this case was different.

The fact that each letter was handwritten by the Gentle queen would tell the recipients that this was of the utmost importance and would speak of how precious Aaryn was to the royal family. Beyond that, she needed to write an entirely different message for Archenland, their allies and dear friends.

They would need King Lune's help and the help of his people in order to execute their plan properly.

Susan set to work, the scratch of her quill the only sound as she scribbled away with quiet deliberation.

Edmund woke bright and early. The sun streamed in through his window with determination as if it were forcing the young king into wakefulness. He stretched and shook his sister awake.

"Wake up, Lu. It's morning."

Ever a morning person, Lucy was on her feet in seconds and grabbing the light green dress she had purchased the day before. Their Narnian clothes, even the sort that commoners wore, were not in the fashion of Galmanians and the two needed to blend in as best they could. Their clothes were more "medeival" as Edmund remembered it being described back in Spare Oom. At least, he thought he had the phrasing right.

His sister headed into the small adjoining bathroom to change while Edmund shrugged into a gray tunic and tried to calm his mussed up hair.

Lucy came back out a few seconds later, her hair done up on a braided bun with loose curls hanging about her face. Even in common clothes and devoid of makeup, Edmund thought his sister was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever laid eyes on. At seventeen years of age, she was already attracting the eye of grown men, much to her brother's chagrin. How it had fallen to he and Peter to protect Susan, Aaryn, and Lucy was beyond him.

"You be careful and keep your head down," Edmund found himself chastising as his sister wrapped a wide scarf over her dark locks and fastened it at the nape of her neck. "We don't need Namir noticing you and especially not taking a liking to you, you hear me?"

"Oh hush," Lucy waved him away. "I'm not Susan. You have no fear of my dazzling him with my beauty." She laughed and flashed him a grin. Edmund shook his head and sighed as he followed her out the door to their small room. Lucy may not be the Beauty of Narnia but she was incredible and he wondered if she would ever understand how beautiful she truly was. He wished she wouldn't compare herself to their older sister so much.

The plan was simple. The two of them would have to find jobs as close to the Governor as possible. Lucy would try to infiltrate the maids and Edmund would try to gain access with the serving boys until one of them could make contact and/or locate Aaryn. They would have to regroup at that point and figure out what to do from there. Rennex couldn't do much besides watch. He would have to stay outside Namir's home and wait for danger or an opportunity to be of help. He wasn't happy with it, but he had no other option.

At least, he consoled himself, his sister likely had an innumerable amount of weapons on her. Ever since that first dagger she had received from Father Christmas, Lucy had developed quite an affinity for weapons, particularly blades, and kept as many on her person as she could get away with.

Peter had tried to break her of the habit at first, thinking it incredibly dangerous for a young girl to wield such powerful weapons. He was wary of her skill with the blade she had been given in the first place and didn't want her accumulating more. Edmund hadn't minded and, much to Peter's irritation, had helped the girl grow her collection as best as he could. It wasn't until one her blades, masked as a hairpin, saved his life at a formal banquet that Peter finally relaxed and left it alone.

Edmund bit back a chuckle as he recalled Peter's shocked expression from that night. He had been eighteen and Lucy still at the tender age of twelve. It had been Lucy's first kill, too. His baby sister had just leaned back and taken a sip from her mead like nothing had happened while a man twice her size lay on the ground, a hairpin dagger with pink and silver flowers etched across the hilt (a birthday present from Aaryn the year before) lay buried in his throat, a much larger dagger the man had intended to bury in Peter's back only a few inches from his fingertips.

"Would you be a dear, Rheln, and fetch my hairpin for me?" Lucy had asked as her siblings and half the court stared in wide-eyed wonder. Few had dared mess with the Valiant queen after that and more than a few rumors circulated about her proficiency with weaponry.

And Edmund was proud of his little sister's proficiency.