Epilogue – Acceptance of the Terms

I apologize in advance as you might have seen bits and pieces of some these before, though all has been tweaked to better fit with these conclusions. Most of these scenes come from prompts left by readers over the years, including, with my thanks, E, Syrena, Adaese, and others. The piece that begins with Jalur at the pond is due solely to a request by E and was a really important story that greatly influenced many things. Also, the superlative Anastigmat wrote a follow on piece called Densy The Child which also led to many important things, including the gold Lion broach. Thanks so much to those who commented on the last chapter. Response are still coming.

Thank you for reading. Warning for non-canon character death.

I. The White Stag

The chill woke him. Peter prised open an eye and pulled the blanket closer. "Can you close the doors?"

He asked even though, after all these years, he knew the answer and it was always the same.

"No," the Dryad said.

Dinan was standing on his balcony. She had thrown open the doors to the pre-dawn and now hummed and swayed to a song in the language of the Trees. Golden and russet leaves of Autumn fluttered into the room and whirled about her, tangling in her silver hair. Her thin arms stretched out to twine with her brothers and sisters of the Wood about Cair Paravel.

The Dryad would always wake thus. No matter the temperature outside that blew into his room, his complaints always fell upon deaf wood.

Dinan stilled and her limbs tensed. Peter felt, through the frame of his bed and into his bones, a thrumming energy.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Tumnus comes this way with news," she replied. "My sisters have seen the White Stag in the Western Wood."

So legends again roamed Narnia. "The White Stag? If you catch him, he grants wishes?"

"Yes."

Dinan pulled her limbs into her trunk, turned from Tree to Woman, and stepped back into the room. She drew the doors closed.

A bright red leaf, Maple, drifted down and landed on his bedsheet. Peter picked up the leaf and twirled it between his fingers. "Perhaps I should ride out and catch this Stag."

The Dryad stared at him, seeming now oddly forlorn. "But for what would you wish that you do not have? Narnia is at peace. One who would harm you and yours is a donkey. Your brother and sister have both found love. You are all loved in return."

"I could wish the child for Edmund and Morgan, and for Lucy and Aidan, that they so very much desire. And then I would have heirs and Narnia would have her succession."

Peter had long given up wishing such for himself. The best he could do would be to see happen what his brother and sister, what his whole family and all of Narnia, desperately desired.

"So you would wish for what Aslan has not yet in his wisdom seen fit to grant?"

"But what if I am the Foolish Faun by failing to seek such solution to finding and appointing my heirs?" Peter countered. "Perhaps that is why I must go seek the Stag."

"You think Aslan desires his High King to chase a wish?"

"I don't know," Peter admitted. "Perhaps he does."

"I do not understand why you would wish for what you already have." Dinan said, standing firm like the Tree she was as her argument took root. "The Palace will be full with the children who come with your sister's new mate."

"So your message is that I should be careful of what I wish for?" It was true that overnight, their home would become home to five rambunctious children, ages two to twelve, Aidan's own two daughters and his niece and nephews, twin boys. Still… "They are not my own blood," Peter replied.

Her leaves drooped, like a wilted flower. "I do not understand. Aidan and Morgan are not your blood, yet you call them family?"

"Well, yes, that is true." Peter drew his legs up and rested his chin on his knees.

"And you say Narnians are your family but they are not your blood, either."

"Also true," he had to admit.

"You often speak of your Guards and their mother as family; you and I have our own bond, which has been longer even than that of your brother and his mate."

He had wondered whether he and Dinan were bonded under Narnian law as Edmund and Morgan had been. The key distinction was that Dinan was bound only to the earth and water of Narnia and the Sun that shined upon her. High King though he was, he was but a poor second in her hierarchy; he could not fault a Dryad for being bound only to that which sustained her.

"So why would you wish for what Aslan has not seen fit to grant or for what you already have?"

Her silver Birch leaves stirred and flitted toward him. Peter blew them back to her. She waved her arm and a gold and silver cloud of leaves swirled about his room. "When you behold such beauty, can you say there is anything else you wish for?"

He held out his hand to hers. "I could wish you would come back to bed?"

This time, she allowed herself to be drawn in. "There is no need to seek the White Stag for that wish to be granted, Peter."

ooOOoo

Out of the fog came a white deer, a Stag. The deer cut through the smoke like a sharp blade. The smoke swirled around his legs and wound about his pronged antlers.

"Come, follow me." Peter followed the Stag.

He saw great ships and small ones, ports and cities, hunting parties and armies. There were giants and pirates, deaths and births, fire and rain, celebrations and farewells. He saw Lucy, Edmund, and Susan, older and younger, gay and weeping, beautiful and despairing, dancing and embattled. He saw Lucy with a bow, wearing bright chain mail, Edmund on a ship in Narrowhaven, Susan galloping away on her mare, her hair streaming behind her.

"Come, follow me." Peter followed the Stag.

He heard laughter and turned around to see children run by. They were balling up the white smoke and throwing it at one another in a game. They shouted and romped with Wolves, Dogs, Satyrs, and Great Cats. They were Narnian children, he knew, and surely were his own family.

Ours. Our future. Narnia is well; Aslan's charge is fulfilled. Peter felt a burden lift.

"Come, follow me." Peter followed the Stag.

Peter saw Narnians and a few men and women. Some Narnians he recognized, most he did not. There was a sad woman with the dark hair and skin of the Islands of the Eastern Sea and a tall, broad, blonde man, of Archenland. He did not see his brother and sisters. Where did they go? Where are we? Why are we not here?

"Come, follow me."

Peter started and bolted upright, shaking, in a cold sweat, wide awake, and entirely alone, in his bed. He frantically pulled at the threads of the dream and found, for the first time, they did not dissolve into nothing.

The dream was from the smoke ritual of the Centaurs that he had undergone during the Great Bonding. He'd not dreamt of that night in the Centaurs' cave in many years and never had the memory of those hazy visions been so starkly clear.

He could now name some of the faces in the dream that before had been unknown. The sad woman was Morgan. The man was Aidan, Lucy's new husband. And the children? Who were they? His own? Finally? Or were they his brother and sisters' offspring? Or were they the children coming from Archenland with Aidan? Both?

Shivering, Peter pulled a coverlet about him. A few faded, crushed leaves in his bedcovers were the only evidence that Dinan had been there with him.

I have followed the White Stag before.

Do I follow him again?

ooOOoo

II. Acceptance of the Terms

Jalur and Morgan

The first hard freeze of the Narnian winter had arrived. Jalur could feel it in his bones in a way that he had not felt before. There was a sheet of ice on the dark surface of the bathing pond. For the first time in all his years, he thought the water looked too cold for swimming. He blew out a breath and it was tinged with frost.

If I had been faster, I could have stopped him.

He wanted to think that, but knew it to be a lie. He and Lambert had sensed the inexplicable madness falling upon the Four. Briony had been the first to see Aslan's paws in it. Fooh had reached the Four just as they plunged into a thicket that closed behind them, so dense the Guards could not pass through it. Even the swiftest Cat of Narnia could not stop what Aslan decreed.

Jalur raised his head, inhaling deeply, hoping to catch some lingering scent of his King here, at one of their favourite places. However, the scent was gone, eventually disappearing as the leaves turned colours a Tiger could not see and fell to the hardening ground.

With the scent, the voice, the touch, and the presence of his King gone from Narnia, Jalur tarried at the bathing pond most days. Everything else was fading away, but the memories at least remained and were very strong here. They had come here the first day Jalur had agreed to be a Guard (temporary!). He had chased the Otters – but they were gone, too, exiled to the Glasswater and now protecting Narnia. They had come here alone, after training, after battle, after trying days when his King did not wish anyone but his Guard to know of his frustration and strain. They had come here with the High King. They had come here with oranges for the Otters and with Banker Morgan and Jina, and then Rafiqa thereafter. It was there, under that tree, where Banker Morgan and King Edmund had spoken of the Foolish Faun and the Dwarf in the boat. Under that same tree they had completed their final bonding rite and made a pledge over a Dwarf's anvil.

They had become bonded under Narnian law all unknowing. They could have dissolved the bond upon petition to the High King. But they had not. Banker Morgan stayed, for love. She stayed still, though the one to whom she was bonded, Jalur's Just King, was gone.

Are you happy, my King? Have you found a new Guard to protect you? Jalur wondered if King Edmund loved that new Guard as well. Might he love his new Guard even more? Jalur had vowed to guard King Edmund onto death or the World's End. He had always assumed it would be his death that would come first and that his King would mourn him and, in due course, find another. This sundering Jalur had never contemplated. It offered none of the closure and finality of death and the sorrowing joy when someone passed into Aslan's Country.

Jalur could not mourn he who was not dead. He could not be angry, for it was Aslan's will. He could not be happy, for it was not his own will. He could only be.

He caught a whiff of Faun on the chill wind and the faint clip of hooves on dying grass.

"Jalur!" Mr. Hoberry called. "May I speak with you?"

He turned his head about as the Head Housekeeper stepped down the slope into the dell of the bathing pond.

"You already have," Jalur replied. His voice cracked from disuse. That was how it was, once, when he was a solitary Cat. He would go days without speaking to anyone. Since the departure of the Four, he had not spoken to anyone at all.

The Faun stopped, set down a basket filled with towels, and adjusted the scarf he wore against the cold.

"A habit I have not yet broken," Mr. Hoberry said, seeing Jalur's notice of the basket. "I cannot come to the pond and not think I have left something behind unless I bring towels and clothing for the Kings."

As there was no obvious response to this, Jalur said nothing about it. In fact, the less he said, the more likely the speaker would go away.

Mr. Hoberry stared at the dark water and made no effort to leave. Jalur continued his sullen, silent vigil. He turned his head away from the Faun in a silent rebuff. Squirrels were arguing in the trees about their nut hoards.

"I wanted to ask if you would go see Banker Morgan," Mr. Hoberry finally said.

"Why?" He had not seen Banker Morgan since Aslan had presided over Queen Frieda's Coronation and the induction of the Consorts as Regents.

"Because she is mourning, Jalur, as you are. And, unlike Lord Regent Aidan, she is very much alone."

It was true that the Lord Regent had a much larger circle around him. He was very popular in the Army and well-liked. The Wolves were always with him and the children who had come with him from Archenland. Aslan had crowned the eldest, his niece, as Queen.

"Perhaps Banker Morgan prefers to be alone. I do."

Mr. Hoberry ignored his jibe and request. "She may prefer it, but it is not good for her, Jalur."

"And you are an expert?"

"In the moods and ways of the King Edmund's Consort, yes, I am an expert. Certainly more than you."

That was fair, Jalur had to admit. He knew Banker Morgan well because she was the mate to his King. However, his charge and attention had always been King Edmund. Banker Morgan and Mr. Hoberry had been very good friends, especially after Jina's death.

"She refuses to leave their rooms," Mr. Hoberry said. "She admits no one. She had packed her trunks, hoping to sail back to Narrowhaven, but it is too late to reach there before the winter storms."

Jalur growled. Her departure would have been very, very wrong. Banker Morgan shared the Regency with Lord Aidan.

Mr. Hoberry nodded. "Narnia's Heart and Soul now have passed to the Lord Regent and Queen Frieda. However, with the King Edmund and Queen Susan gone, the Mind of Narnia resides with Banker Morgan alone. We need her. We must show the larger world we are still stable and strong. We cannot do this without Banker Morgan."

"King Edmund would be angry with her," Jalur said, rising to his feet. He felt a wince in his back – he had sat too long in the cold. "This is not right. She must do her duty. I shall speak with her."

"That is not quite what I had in mind, but it is a start," Mr. Hoberry said. He picked up his basket of unused towels. "Thank you, Jalur."

As he approached the Palace, Jalur passed under the balcony of King Edmund's room. Late one night, long ago, he had followed a cat into the shadow of that balcony and had made his decision to become a Royal Guard. He saw no cat today. In the trees and Trees and on the balcony outside his King's room, Crows roosted. They were hunched and silent. While they mourned the loss of all the Four, this silent vigil was for Banker Morgan. The Narnian Murder and the Hounds of the Palace Pack had both claimed Banker Morgan as one their own; she had worn their badge for years. If she was ailing, they were as well.

Entering the Palace, he could hear voices and smell the bodies in the Great Hall. Lord Regent Aidan and Queen Frieda were there with their Guards. Queen Frieda had seemed young, except that she was the same human age Queen Susan had been at her Coronation. She was a very calm and orderly person, very quiet but also very kind. Jalur recognized others from the Council – the General, Eirene, who had become the new Swordmaster to replace Queen Lucy, Mr. Tumnus, Lord Peridan, and others. Lord Regent Aidan was intending to lead a strong show of force at the borders lest anyone think of testing Narnia for weakness. Banker Morgan should have been at the Council.

The laughter he heard was not guilty as it had been even a month ago. Narnia was becoming accustomed to the absence of the Four. While their influence had been profound, their actual tenure had been short in the history of a world or even within the lifespan of many Narnians. To celebrate this smooth transition to another generation felt to be less of a betrayal to the memory of the Four who had fulfilled the prophecy and the thrones of Cair Paravel. Aslan had visited often in the days and weeks after the departure, but even those had become less frequent.

Life went on. Autumn was over. Winter was coming. And Spring thereafter.

A cat had once led him all the way into the Palace and up the stairs. In one direction, he heard a racket of shouts and laughter – the children were in the playroom today battling with toy swords.

Rafiqa patrolled the corridor leading to what had once been the Monarchs' wing.

"Jalur!" The Hound quickly approached him, brisk and quick. "You are here, praise Aslan!"

He did not feel much like praising Aslan at the moment.

"Mr. Hoberry asked that I come to see Banker Morgan." He looked down the hall and sniffed. He sensed her presence behind the closed door and thick walls. "He said she is not well."

"Most assuredly not. Banker Morgan refuses to leave their rooms," Rafiqa said with a fluttering sigh. "I know she is there, and safe, but she will not see or speak to me or any else. I hear her crying. She wears King Edmund's clothing and will not let it be washed."

Jalur understood that action very well. "She is trying to keep his scent. Does she eat?"

"Very little. Mr. Hoberry brings trays. She will not let anyone in to clean the room or lay fires. It is cold, stale, and unclean. The Lord Regent, the Physician, Mr. Hoberry, and Mrs. Furner discuss her constantly and are at a loss. They believe she may contract a wasting disease."

"Has Aslan visited?"

"She refused to see even the Lion," Rafiqa whispered. Greatly daring, the Hound added, "She blames him."

Banker Morgan would speak what others would not.

"Very well." He strode forward and down the hall to the familiar door. Jalur had not been in the Palace since the departure save for the Queen's coronation. He had not been in the Monarchs' wing at all.

"Banker Morgan?" Jalur said, pushing the door a little with his nose. "It is I."

"Jalur, I don't want to see anyone," he heard her say from behind the door.

He thought about this. He respected her desire to be alone. But, now that he was here, he could smell his King behind the door. Jalur wanted to be there. This was the last place in Narnia in which his King lingered.

"I'm coming in anyway," Jalur said.

He shoved the door open, easily pushing away a chair that she had tried to use to bar the entrance. The scent of King Edmund flowed over him. It was stale and fading but still it was here. Banker Morgan was sitting at the writing desk and stood immediately as he barged in.

With a rumble of pleasure, he stalked to the soft, strange bed, inhaling deeply. Banker Morgan's scent dominated what had once been his King's alone and then their space together. But King Edmund was here and stronger than anywhere else in Narnia.

He turned to look at Banker Morgan. She was smaller and messy. She smelled very Human, even dirty. She was wearing King Edmund's clothing – trousers that were too large and a loose shirt with dark ink stains.

"I have come to see you."

"You've seen me. I'm alive. Leave."

"No," Jalur replied. "I have come to speak to you, too." He swiveled his head, taking in the rumpled bed, the crumpled parchment and scraps scattered around, the ink splatters on the desk and the floor, and the broken quills and charcoal stubs. Without King Edmund to correct her, Banker Morgan would spill things.

Against the wall, he saw a traveling trunk stuffed with objects, clothing and parchment, as if they had all been tossed in and then thrown around. There were many handkerchiefs.

He turned about and, suddenly, heard a strange noise. Jalur twitched an ear and listened carefully. "What is that sound?"

"What sound?"

He swiveled his head about the room, hearing it again, faintly. "There is a sound. Someone is here, but…" he inhaled again. "But there is no scent?"

Jalur growled and his fur rose. He lashed his tail and knocked over a flimsy drying rack. Parchment fluttered around the floor like snow flurries. "Show yourself!" he snarled. "You will not harm Banker Morgan!"

"There is no one here!" she exclaimed, looking about anxiously. "Only you and me!"

"There is someone else," Jalur insisted. He marched along the walls; the sound grew faint. He went to the window and could see the Crows in vigil outside. The sound was less here, so whoever it might be was not on the balcony. He prowled the room's perimeter. He sniffed around the closet and washing room; the sound disappeared. He went back into the room, nosed behind the curtain, under the bed, and behind the desk and bookcases.

"But there is…"

"Silence," Jalur ordered.

Jalur circled the room, flicking his ears back and forth to catch the very, very faint sound. He circled again, spiraling inward. As his circuit shrank, the sound grew louder. He closed in …on Banker Morgan?!

He blinked and stared at her. Could it be? It had happened before but had always ended before he could actually hear anything. He tilted his head, pricking his ears and his whiskers swiveled forward. His tail lashed about again.

"What?" she whispered nervously, looking around.

"There is another heartbeat in the room besides yours and mine," Jalur said, taking a step to stand next to her. He was certain now.

"Oh!" Now, she, too, understood, and her hands fell to her stomach. "You can hear…"

"Yes. The second heartbeat comes, very strongly, from inside you."

"So it's not…"

"It is very much alive."

Banker Morgan gasped and swayed on her feet.

Jalur quickly sidled up next to her and her shaking hand gripped his neck for support.

"It is King Edmund's cub?" Jalur asked. He nosed about her stomach, feeling a wild, ecstatic excitement.

She snorted and thwacked him on the side of the head. "Of course it is, you lout!" She stumbled toward the bed, leaned against the post, and stared down at her own body. "You can hear it? You really can?" Her voice turned very quiet and soft. "You hear a heartbeat?"

"Yes. It's very loud and strong. I'm sure a Hound would…"

She waved irritably. "No, not now. Rafiqa will…"

"Quiet!" Jalur ordered. "Let me listen." He pushed his head up against Banker Morgan and pressed his ear to her stomach.

He growled, not liking what he heard. "Its heart is beating very fast. It must be frightened. Can you tell it to not be so worried?"

Banker Morgan laughed. It was a welcome sound, the best thing Jalur had heard in months. It was, however, inappropriate in Jalur's view given the severity of the situation.

"I was not being humorous," he said testily. "I am concerned for King Edmund's cub. It sounds nervous." Jalur cleared his throat and spoke directly to Banker Morgan's stomach. "Cub, be easy. You have nothing to fear. I mean no harm to you and your mother."

Banker Morgan's hand fell to his head and he allowed her to stroke his fur. Jalur sensed the heartbeat slow. "It likes me," he said, inordinately pleased.

"Of course the cub would like you, Jalur. How could it be otherwise?"

Still, Jalur did not like this fast heartbeat and it seemed that the cub was swimming around. Might it drown? Was this normal? The Hounds would know. "Rafiqa!" he called.

"No, Jalur! Don't!"

He ignored her for, obviously, Banker Morgan, like King Edmund, required his personal management. "Rafiqa! Come at once!" The Hound would know better than he what he sensed.

Rafiqa pushed her nose into the room. "Yes? Is all well…"

The Hound turned her head to the side thoughtfully. Her tail began wagging. "Oh! I say!"

She trotted quickly to them. "Morgan, congratulations! May I listen?"

"No secrets here," Banker Morgan muttered.

"I think the cub is worried," Jalur said. "I told it to be calm but it did not listen. Banker Morgan, tell the cub to obey me."

"Are you comfortable standing, Morgan? Would you prefer to lie down?" Rafiqa asked.

"I'm fine, Rafiqa."

Jalur did not think Banker Morgan sounded fine. He thought she sounded even more anxious than the cub.

"Do not worry, Banker Morgan," Jalur told her. "I shall protect you and your cub."

"Baby," Rafiqa said. "They are called babies. Morgan, you know what to do. Would you lift my ear please?"

Banker Morgan lifted the Hound's long, floppy ear and Rafiqa put her head to Banker Morgan's stomach. "Breathe normally, please," the Hound said.

"Is it…" Jalur began.

"Quiet, please," Rafiqa instructed.

Banker Morgan put her hand again to Jalur's head and her fingers gently combed his fur.

"Excellent," Rafiqa said, pulling away after a few moments and shaking her head so that her ears flopped about. "Human babies have faster heartbeats, Jalur. This is not concerning. Indeed this is far better than anything I have heard before. There is a good level of fluid and he sounds very healthy."

"He!?" Jalur and Banker Morgan made the same exclamation at the same moment.

"Yes, I believe your baby is a boy." The Hound lifted her nose and scented about the room, taking in the disorder. "Morgan, your baby is in far better health than you are. You have been locked in here for much too long. You need a warm bath, fluids, clean clothes, proper food, and some exercise in the fresh air. This room must be cleaned. We should also tell Lord Aidan, the Queen, the Physician, and Mrs. Furner, so that they can help you. May I see to these things?"

"You would anyway," Banker Morgan said with a sigh. "Even if I said no."

The Hound trotted back out of the room, tail wagging happily. Jalur felt a pleased rumble rise in his own chest and he rubbed his head against Banker Morgan – carefully – as he did not want to push her over or harm King Edmund's cub – baby.

Banker Morgan crossed the room and opened the balcony door. "Harah!"

The Crow Hen flew into the bedroom and landed on Banker Morgan's upraised arm.

"Banker Morgan!" Harah squawked. "Splendid to see you! How may I serve?"

Banker Morgan closed the door again with a swing of her hip and put a finger to her lips. She moved away, further from the balcony and prying ears and eyes.

"Quiet and quick, Harah. You need to get to the Murder as fast as you can fly and lay the best wager you can that Banker Morgan will give birth to King Edmund's son in the Spring. I'll split the winnings with you."

"Truly?" Harah cried, hopping excitedly from side to side.

"On my word," Banker Morgan replied.

Harah looked at him. "Rafiqa confirmed it," Jalur said. "She goes now to tell others."

"I'd better hurry then!" Harah leaned over on Banker Morgan's shoulder and with her beak stroked the woman's cheek. "Aslan's blessings on you! And all Narnia!"

Hurrying back to the door, Banker Morgan threw it open. Harah launched into the brisk air and, with another excited squawk, flew off.

Banker Morgan stood at the balcony, staring out, and the wind blew in, taking some of the glum sadness and smell of the room with it. When she began shivering with the cold, Jalur went to the door and shut it with his nose.

"You are not dressed for the chill," Jalur told her.

She nodded and shuffled back into the room. Banker Morgan climbed into the bed and Jalur heard her sniffling as she rooted around in the coverings the way Canines would do before lying down to sleep. From under the pillows, Banker Morgan pulled out a wad of old, crinkled parchment, clutched it to her chest, and lay down, curled on her side.

Jalur heard her sniffle again. He rested his head on the bed, next to hers, feeling the coverings sag under his weight. "You are very sad," he said.

"Yes."

Tears ran down her face. Aslan had said they should not be sad, that the Four were not dead, but had gone on to do great things in places that needed them even more than Narnia. Disloyal though it may be, Jalur was sad, and Morgan with him.

"I miss him, too," Jalur told her. "But, I am very happy because a part of King Edmund is still here, because of you."

"Harold…" She paused, swallowed, and began again. "Edmund and his son will never know each other, Jalur. Ever."

"He is never coming back?" Jalur had felt this, had heard it said, but had hoped he might have just been wrong.

"No," Banker Morgan said. "We wanted this so much and now he's gone and I'm all by myself."

Her voice hiked into a panicked wail. She turned her head away, curled in more tightly upon herself, and shook with quiet sobs.

Jalur circled around the bed and then did something very daring that, in all his years with King Edmund, he had never done before. He sprang into the bed. It creaked and shuddered under his weight, and for a moment he worried that he, the bed, Banker Morgan, and the cub would all crash to the floor. Fortunately, the bed held. Cautiously, he stretched out, alongside Morgan, and pushed his nose under her arm, just as a dumb dog or house cat might do.

"You are not alone, Morgan. I am with you."

She threw her arm around his neck and wept into his fur. "You don't have hands, Jalur. How could you help me change a nappy or feed a baby?"

He couldn't do anything about the feeding but he was certain one of the Wolf-mothers could help. As for the nappy, whatever that was, Morgan was a Banker of the House of Linch, Regent of Narnia, and the mother to one who would someday be King. Morgan should not have to fret about things like changing nappies. Such worries were surely not good for the cub, either. And, King Edmund would not want his lady or his son to worry about anything. It would be a failure of his duty to his King if Jalur could not assure the comfort and security of Morgan and her cub.

"I do not need hands to change a nappy," Jalur told her.

"No?" Morgan asked, wiping her nose on her sleeve just as her bondmate would do. "How will you manage then? Use your teeth?"

"Yes. All I need to do is threaten to eat someone who does have hands and make them do it."

Her laugh was better than the crying.

The Castle was beginning to simmer. Jalur could sense voices and excitement rising. The joyous news was spreading. Through King Edmund's son, the Four still lived in Narnia.

"The others come soon," he told Morgan.

She nodded and pulled herself up to sit. "I hope Harah got my wager in."

Jalur slid off the bed. "Are you better? Are you ready?"

"No. I am lonely and terrified. But it will come regardless of what I do."

"Yes, and they all do come," Jalur said. He lifted his head. "The Lord Regent, Queen Frieda, Mrs. Furner, Mr. Hoberry, Rafiqa, the Physician, all the Guards, the General, Master Roblang, and others." It would be very crowded in the hall.

"What, no pony?" Morgan said, repeating a joke King Edmund had often made.

"No pony, but Cook is with them." That was very unusual. Cook hardly ever left the kitchens unless to throw cabbages and knives at trespassers in her garden.

He could hear the Lord Regent and Queen Frieda telling everyone to stay back. It occurred to him that if it concerned human cubs – babies – Queen Frieda would probably know of it since she had raised her siblings and cousins. She will be happy to help the one who will succeed her. She will know what a nappy is and who I must threaten so that it is changed. This cheered Jalur. The Queen was a good, sensible person and she would tell him what he needed to know.

"Cook is outside?"

"She is and whatever she has smells delicious." Jalur licked his lips. It smelled better than offal or Otter. Otter made him think of his oxhide chew hidden in the Tower Library. It was limp and didn't squeak anymore, but perhaps the cub might want to play with it. Jalur would have to think about whether he would share his chew with King Edmund's cub.

"Tash's balls, I hope it's not stewed intestine!"

Jalur did not understand her objection to Cook's specialty; he did understand how he would feel with so many coming to see him.

"I can threaten them so they stay away a little longer," he told her. "But they will come and eventually I will let them in because you and your cub are in need of care."

She took a deep breath. "No, it's fine. Or, well, not fine, but there's nothing for it." Climbing out of the bed and standing, she wiped her face on a soggy handkerchief.

There was a knock on the door. "Morgan?"

"Just a moment, Aidan," Morgan called back. "I need one moment more with Jalur."

He swiveled his head toward her, still wondering if he was being selfish in not wanting to share his oxhide chew with anyone else.

"Yes, Morgan? What is it?"

"Would you swear the Guard's oath to our son? Edmund would have wanted you to Guard his boy, especially…" Her voice went thick and emotional and her tears fell again. "Especially since he cannot."

"Yes, of course." Really, he would not have permitted anyone else to Guard King Edmund and Morgan's cub, though he was very pleased that Morgan asked it of him. Did this mean he would have to share the otter chew? Well, if the cub wanted one, Jalur would threaten the Dwarfs until they made a new one.

Morgan put a hand on his head and Jalur spoke directly to the cub swimming inside her.

"Cub, I am Jalur. I guarded your father before you and as I spoke these words to him, now I say them to you."

"I promise to never cause you harm and to protect you from all ill and danger.
I give you loyalty with love, respect with fealty, and discretion with honour.
I place my body, mind and heart in service to you.
I swear this Guard's Oath before Aslan and in His Name, until you release me, until death takes you, or the world ends."

ooOOoo

Jalur and the Cub

Jalur yawned and stretched. The patch of sunlight in the Tower Library did not seem as warm him as it used to.

The scratching of the quill on parchment stopped. For a moment, he thought to growl at the Monarch who was acting the truant. Then he remembered it was not his King avoiding work, but his King's son. A stopped quill meant the usually very hard-working Cub had something to say.

He lifted his head to look at the boy whose legs were swinging from the too-tall chair. One of his shoes had fallen off. "Cub? Is something wrong?"

He watched a leg swing nervously back and forth. The Cub was diligent but would sometimes put things off if it involved saying something it was hard for him to say because he thought the listener didn't want to hear it.

"You can tell me, Cub. I am your Guard. Your secrets are safe. And I have to protect you. I can't eat you."

The Cub nodded and pulled his lip between his teeth. Finally, he blurted, "Jalur, I'm very big now."

"Yes," he replied, deciding to not point out that the Cub was still riding ponies and needed a bolster at the supper table.

"And I think I'm too big to be called Cub." It all was coming in a rush now, the way his mother would sometimes speak. "Could you call me by my real name, please? 'cept maybe…"

The Cub looked down and tried to rub the ink off his hands, which even Jalur knew would just cause the ink to smear on even more things. "Maybe everyone calls me Cub because they don't want to say Father's name?"

That, Jalur thought, was probably true. And certainly not fair.

"I agree." Jalur had to muster himself. He'd not spoken the beloved name in so long. "Prince Edmund."

The boy looked up, smiling the way his father had. "Prince? I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Nevertheless, it is the first of your titles, my Prince. And I shall insist upon their proper use, even if you do not."

ooOOoo

Jalur, Aslan, and the Cub

As they walked deeper into the Wood, Edmund put his hand on Jalur's shoulder and could feel the bone there, pointy and hard, and his fur was so thin and patchy.

"Are you still cold?" he asked the Tiger. The Physician had said it was because Jalur was so old that his body couldn't keep him warm anymore.

"Yes," Jalur said. He talked very softly now but Edmund could still hear him. Mother always said that he had the hearing of a Hound.

"You won't be cold much longer, will you?" Edmund didn't want Jalur to be cold anymore.

"No."

Edmund looked over his shoulder behind him. He could just see Mother, still standing at the entrance to the Wood, like she said she would. She was blowing her nose in a big handkerchief. Rafiqa was leaning into Mother the way that Hounds did when trying to comfort someone.

He turned back around. "I wish she'd come, too."

"We said farewell, Edmund." Jalur's breath came out heavy and raspy, like branches on rocks.

"It's because of Aslan, isn't it?"

"Yes."

How Mother felt about Aslan, how angry she was at the Great Lion, wasn't something Edmund could really understand. He'd talked to everyone about it, Uncle Aidan, and Lord Peridan, and Grandfather, and Aunt Maeve and Uncle Pierce, and his cousins, and old Mr. Hoberry and old Mr. Tumnus and Mrs. Furner, Master Roblang, and Eirene. He'd talked to Master Roblang and Eirene a lot because they'd really and truly been there the first time that Mother met Aslan in the Meadowlawn. They knew all the songs and stories that were made about that day, about Morgan the Baker of Narnia.

How could anyone be angry at Aslan? How could Mother stay so angry for so long? Didn't Aslan get angry back? That really worried him. He didn't want Aslan angry at Mother because he didn't want Aslan to take her away.

He'd once asked Eirene if Aslan had taken Father away because Mother didn't love Aslan enough and Eirene had told him no, that wasn't it at all. He'd been really glad to hear that. Eirene said that Mother loved everything Aslan had made – she loved Narnia and everyone in it so well and so hard, and had done so much for them, of course Aslan loved her. Mother was very special, Eirene said, because she still loved so much even after everything that had happened.

The path they were walking on got wider and smoother, instead of narrower and darker, the way it usually did.

Edmund knew what that meant and everything in him felt tingly like during the first snow or that plunge into the ocean on a hot day.

Jalur lifted his head up and breathed in through his nose, even though he couldn't smell much anymore.

And then Aslan was right there.

Edmund managed a bow like Lord Peridan had taught him but he was too excited to do it properly and bounced up again. "Aslan!" He ran to the Lion and threw his arms around him. "You're bigger again!"

"It is because you are bigger, Edmund."

"How are you? How is Father? You have come for Jalur, haven't you? He's…"

Aslan rumbled and it might have been a growl or a purr but Edmund swallowed the rest of his questions, remembered his manners, and stepped away. "Thank you for coming, sir."

Edmund got a kiss. "This is from me," Aslan said. He kissed him again, all whiskers and good, sweet breath of the Lion. "And this is from your father." And a third time. "And this is for your mother."

He rubbed his forehead. That was a lot of kisses. "Thank you, Aslan. Will you take Jalur now? He's always cold and he really wants to be with you now." Edmund sniffed a little. He'd promised himself he wouldn't blub. He was happy for Jalur. "Jalur wants to be with you even more than with me, and that's a lot."

"Jalur?" Aslan said. "Are you ready?"

The Tiger bowed his head. "I am, my lord. Save one thing."

Jalur swiveled his great head. "My Prince? Are you ready?"

"I…" Jalur had made him practice but now that it was time he could feel his throat get tight and his nose start to run.

He took a deep breath. This was what Jalur needed; it wasn't for him. "Jalur, thank you for your service. I release you from your Guard's Oath. You may go to Aslan without in… imp…"

This was the hard word. "Without impediment."

"Thank you." Jalur gave him a ticklish, whiskery kiss. "Prince you are and King you shall be, but you will always be Cub to me."

To Aslan, Jalur said, "My lord, if it pleases you, I am ready."

"It does please me, my great-hearted son." Aslan stepped forward. Jalur was big. He'd been the biggest Cat in Narnia but Aslan was just that much bigger. Aslan breathed on Jalur. "Follow me."

Edmund tried to keep his eyes open and watch. He saw Aslan turn and walk away and Jalur followed him, not all stiff and tired but springy and his head was up, not down, and his tail was waving again. Edmund didn't think he blinked but then, suddenly, they were gone.

The air and light were all normal again, good Narnian air and light and so that meant magical, but not the way it was all really, really magical and golden and wonderful smelling when Aslan was near. He waved good-bye to Aslan and Jalur in the direction he thought they had gone, which he supposed was the path to Aslan's Country.

He was going to run straight back to Mother and give her Aslan's kisses but Liv and Shura got to him first. His cousin squinted down the path where they'd gone and blew kisses. "Good bye, Jalur! Don't let our sadness keep you from your journey home!"

There was more to that prayer, but it was usually said when grown-ups were drinking lots of wine or spirits.

"Shura is going to guard us both for now," Liv said, pointing at the She-Wolf. "Until you pick your new Guard."

"I already did. Jalur hoped I would accept Alek and we talked about it. So he's going to take the Guard's Oath."

Liv clapped him on the back. "That's really good of you to take another Tiger so soon! 'specially since so many Canines are guarding Frieda and Uncle Aidan, and our cousins, and your mother. It's much fairer to the Cats."

Shura growled and Liv scolded her. "Don't be jealous, Shura. Ed's done the right thing and it's a good thing, too, and hard."

He'd gotten a lot of advice about a Guard. It was important to do right by the Cats, though the Cheetahs had been very stuffy about it. We guard only the High King, Fooh had said. He didn't think he'd be ready for a Tiger again so soon but Alek was one of Jalur's grandsons and it just seemed to fit. Edmund felt his nose get runny again and sniffed.

Liv was staring at him and Edmund knew she could tell what was happening. She looked around and then leaned forward and whispered, "It's okay if you cry. I won't tell anyone. And Jalur going to Aslan's Country is a really good reason to cry, if you ask me."

He nodded. "I know. I am happy for him. I'm just sad for me. And for Mother. But Jalur really wanted to go."

"Aslan always says not all tears are bad." In his ear, really quietly, she whispered, "Instead of going to bed tonight, you get Red and I'll get Beatrice and we'll make a fort and sleep there and hide them in our pillows."

They were too old to play with his stuffed rabbit and Liv's Linch rag doll, but, if they hid in the fort, no one would know. Edmund nodded and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "Thanks."

Liv pulled back and talked in a normal voice. "Are you better now? Because if you are, and even if you aren't, that doesn't change anything because there's a problem that needs fixing."

"What's that?"

"Tiggy and Pester are fighting again."

Those two Red Squirrels were terribly quarrelsome. "Did Tiggy steal from Pester? Or is it the other way around? I lose track."

"This time, Tiggy says Pester stole from her nut hoard." His cousin shook her head; he didn't believe the Squirrels any more than Liv did. "But whoever started it this time, they're fighting fit to tear a Tree down and the Dryads have just had enough."

"Well, we'd better help them solve it even if crowns to Crows they'll be at it again in a ten-day."

He searched in his pockets, pricked a finger on a wire, and found something softer. He pulled out a long piece of gold thread and looked around. "Is there a Crow who wants a shiny!?" He waved the thread.

"I do!" Branwen called. The Crow Hen flapped down to Liv's upraised arm. Branwen offered her leg and he carefully looped the golden thread shiny in her claw.

"Branwen, please tell Mother that Pester and Tiggy are fighting again and so Liv and I have to go fix it. And please tell Alek to come find me."

He wasn't going to cry. Wasn't.

Branwen bobbed her head and looked crafty. "I've got a wager down that Alek would be your next Guard!"

"But are the odds good?" Liv asked.

"Yes!" Branwen said. "No one thought he'd take a Tiger so soon. It's very brave of his Highness!"

"Then you'd better share your winnings with us, Branwen!" Liv scolded.

Branwen squawked.

"We want 20 percent," Edmund told the Crow. "And if you don't hurry, someone will get in ahead of you."

"Fine!" Branwen snapped and flew off, cackling insults. Liv gave him a shove in the side with her hip. "Only 20?"

"Branwen's overstating the odds. I checked and they aren't very good. Mother has been laying down wagers and hedging all the options. Branwen's going to be giving me back that thread when it's all counted."

Through the trees and Trees, he could hear spitting and high-pitched, tinny voices cursing one another about nuts. He seized Liv's hand. "We'd better get to Tiggy and Pester. The fur's really flying."

ooOOoo

Prince Edmund Linch and Princess Livinia

Before he died, Lambert had whispered that there was nowhere more private in all of Cair Paravel. "It was my Queen's favourite place for solitude," the old Wolf said.

When hiding in blanket forts with a red-checked stuffed rabbit and Liv's Linch dolly was no longer an option, the Crown Prince would walk the South Tower terrace, and even the Crows knew to stay away.

Edmund shoved his hands in his pockets and fingered the dried meat he kept there for the Rats; out of deference to Mrs. Furner, he kept the sharp shinys in a bag hanging from his belt. The bag was especially heavy now. If he didn't say something today, it would be months, and maybe never. He began going over the words again, murmuring to himself what he would say, and how he would reply to likely responses.

"Liv is coming up the stair," Alek said.

"Did you have anything to do with that?" Edmund asked the Tiger, finding the timing highly suspicious.

"Not this time," Alek replied. "But you must speak with her now before she sails. Anything else is just procrastination."

Meddlesome Guard.

The door swung open, caught on the Autumn breeze, and banged against the stone wall.

"Ed?"

Liv would have found him even if Shura hadn't sniffed him out. Liv knew every one of his hiding places after all these years; they'd discovered most of them together.

"Alek, please join Shura on the other side of the door," Edmund ordered. "I will speak to my cousin alone."

"But you will speak?" Alek prompted. "As we have discussed?"

"Stop imitating a Horse!"

Alek growled and stalked off. "His Royal Highness is in a mood," the Tiger snapped at Liv.

Jalur had never been this much trouble.

He felt a perverse pleasure in watching her shut the door on the bristling Guards. The stair leading to the terrace was narrow, Alek was big and grumpy, and Shura was big and very prickly by the standards of Wolves. Maybe there would be so much growling and snapping, he and Liv would actually have a modicum of privacy.

She covered the distance across the terrace in long, quick strides. Liv was dressed for sailing, in trousers rather than the skirts she normally preferred. Mrs. Furner had gotten to her because Liv was actually wearing her own clothes and her unruly blonde hair was plaited with the neatness only old Jezebel could manage. The Beaver was nearly blind but her clever paws had been dressing the hair of Banker Consorts, Queens, and Princesses for a very long time.

"So," she began. Liv linked her arm in his and matched his pacing. "Have you decided?"

Liv would always get right to the point and push him to do the same.

"Yes," Edmund answered. He knew he sounded a little short, but he had tired of all the questioning looks and unspoken demands. It wasn't as if he'd ever had a choice in the matter, which he knew was churlish in the extreme. The Four had never had a choice; nor had Frieda. And he did want this, but on his terms, which Mother would insist in that patronising way was, "Just like your father."

"Good." She patted his arm. "When?"

"Curious that you both assume my answer is in the affirmative and that you are so supporting of me displacing your sister from the throne of Narnia."

"Oh, Ed, not that again. This is about you, not Frieda. She would have abdicated in your favour the day you were born. How many times has she told you that she's only been keeping the throne warm until you are ready?"

"At least once a month for as long as I can remember."

"Precisely. I love her and I've done all I can to help her, we both have. But Frieda doesn't want it a moment longer than necessary. She became Queen because she saw it as her duty and Aslan promised her it wasn't permanent."

"And I was that promise." It was the height of ingratitude to be grudging about so great an honour. Aslan had told him that if he was eagerly anticipating becoming King of Narnia, it would be cause for misgivings – which was just like the Lion – always turning something negative into the positive. The way Frieda had ruled, and what rule had done to her, made it all seem very unappealing.

In comparison, as Corin would say, Princes had all the fun. It was certainly true of their twin cousins. Kai and Bernd, like Corin, loved being Princes. They were terrific company and comrades, and just the sort who would tell the best jokes, take all the food from the table, drink all the wine in the cellar, lie with the handsomest Satyrs and Dryads, and land him flat on his arse with a knife to his throat if he put a sloppy foot down in the Training Yard. Edmund would and had trusted Kai and Bernd with his life in battle - they were excellent captains - but he'd never expect them to sit through a Council or manage to haul a bucket of water without spilling it.

They reached the end of the terrace and Liv turned them about to pace the distance back to the door. "Frieda has done well, better than could ever have been expected, but she never trained for this. Not as you have."

"The Four didn't have any training, by all report," he countered, knowing he was being argumentative. "Cor barely had any before Lune died."

"And they made mistakes you won't make," Liv retorted. "And so has Frieda, though admittedly her mistakes are different. She just wants to mother everyone and she'd give her life for the smallest Fledgling, but she wants to be led – she has too much of the good, obedient Archen girl in her to ever be comfortable leading."

Her insights all rang so true and raised the questions Edmund needed to ask.

He slowed their pace. He didn't want to be so close to the door and the eavesdropping Guards. "And you? What are you, Liv? Narnian? Or Archen?"

"The best of both! Good Archen breeding stock by birth and build," she wriggled her hips and thumped her breast with her free hand. "But Narnian to the core!"

He laughed. "And as bawdy as any Narnian, too."

"And waste all this goodness Aslan has given me when it's here for both of us to enjoy?" She swung her wide hip against his – something that used to just be playful and had become thrillingly provocative in the last year or two.

"So you are Archen by birth, Narnia by adoption?"

"I wasn't born here, Ed, but I was here before you were!"

"True. You were younger even than Lucy when Aslan called her here."

"And everyone says she became the most Narnian of the Four."

She drew closer and clung more tightly to his arm. It was pleasant to have her so very near. However, Liv would have a knife strapped somewhere to her body so he had to be careful about too much groping until he knew where it was.

"Ed, you are, as Alek would accuse, procrastinating. So, I repeat, when is your Coronation so I can be sure to be back for it."

"If I said 'next month,' does that mean you'll miss the boat and stay the Winter?"

"No, I'd just argue with you and wear you down until you change the day."

True that. "I talked with Master Roblang. He suggested that I undergo the Great Bonding rites in the Spring and have the Coronation then."

"Oh, that's a splendid idea!"

He had warmed to the suggestion when Roblang made it. It was something that he could do that his father never had, and would set a good precedent for his rule. He intended to start off on different footing in other significant ways as well … if Liv was amenable.

Surely she is. I hope. The bag at his side felt like a boulder.

"Only Peter and Susan undertook the rites, in the first Spring of their rule," he explained, brushing aside the growl he heard in his head as he imagined Alek accusing him of procrastination. They paced again along the parapet to the far corner of the terrace. "Father and Lucy were bound by what they did."

"I'd never heard it put that way, but that makes sense. Everyone tells such stories of Peter and Susan's Great Bonding with Narnia and there's that whole separate to-do over your parents' bonding, and Aidan's with Lucy. Narnians do love their spectacles!"

"You will be back for them, won't you?" He didn't mean for it to come out quite so plaintively.

Her enthusiastic "Of course!" was very heartening, though. "I'll make sure the ship is waiting and as soon as Conclave ends and we run up the flags, I'll come home. I'll even drag Ronda from the ledgers and make her come."

Edmund groaned. "That's duty above and beyond, Liv. Ronda is such a Marsh-wiggle. And she'll be seasick the whole way."

She patted his arm. "It is a sacrifice I shall gladly make for the sake of your Coronation, Ed. All your cousins should be here. I'm sure some of the Bankers will come, too. Maybe your grandfather!"

He tilted his head to hers and let his hand stray to her shoulder. It was a shame it was all covered up; Liv had gorgeous, soft, white shoulders. "I wish you weren't going. There, I said it. I wish you weren't going."

"Well, someone has to wave the Narnian flag and represent the Crown and all that. And your mother and grandfather are insisting I experience the joy of one shut-in. It's important to your training, Liv!"

He laughed. Liv did an excellent mimic of Mother's careful, emphatic way of speaking.

"And you will get to hear all the stories about how awful it all was in the old days."

Really, the older Bankers did make it sound ghastly but they were all so insistently proud of the misery they had undergone back in the good old bad old days.

"Your mother was gleeful at the prospect of making me clerk for shut-in. Ronda will give me all the Guild work, I'm sure, with your grandfather cheering her on. And yes, I know you did it last year. I'm not complaining."

"Yes, you are."

She gave him another shove.

He took a deep breath. Now or never.

"What?" she asked, immediately sensing his mustering.

"Uhmmm."

"Out with it, just like you rehearsed with Alek."

"How do you know I rehearse with Alek what I'm going to say?"

"Of course I know. Don't change the subject. What. Is. It?"

"Well… When I do the Monarch's bonding, I was wondering…"

Stop. They should not be pacing about like caged, abused, dumb animals in a Calormene street show. Edmund turned so that they were facing one another, then took a few steps back so the parapet shielded them from most prying eyes. He took both her hands in his, fingered her quill and bow callouses and the scar where she'd taken that terrifying wound when they had been boarded three years ago in the Bight.

"The tide waits for no one, not even the Crown Prince Who Will Be King," she prompted. She also closed the already narrow space between them and he raised her hands to his lips and kissed them with more fervor than a cousin's familial touch. They both knew the difference now. It had all become so much more muddled, in wonderful and exciting ways, but still, he wasn't sure. Tash's balls, how did one do this with a girl you'd known your whole life?

He cleared his throat and began again. "I was wondering, Liv of Narnia, if you might consent to undertake the Great Bonding with me?"

Her brow creased. "But that's only for the Monarch who… Oh!"

First her bright, blue eyes, and then her smile, widened. "Prince Edmund, are you asking if I would consent to be your Queen?"

He nodded.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" She slipped her hands from his only to slide them up, around his neck. Liv turned her head and over her shoulder yelled, "Thank you for helping him rehearse, Alek! And the answer is YES! YES! And YES again! Which you and Shura already know since you've been listening to our every word!"

As her head was turned, the best Edmund could manage was a kiss on the cheek. He was definitely no longer satisfied with that.

Reading his thoughts and intent, Liv muttered, "Oh Ed, really, that won't do it all!"

She backed him up to the wall and then Liv's amazing Archen body was pressing against his with full-on, ecstatic Narnian abandon. There was surely some sort of treaty implication. She did embody the best of both nations.

"I'm not made of glass," she muttered against his mouth. "You know what I like, my Prince."

"I wasn't sure where you're knife is," Edmund admitted, figuring it was safe to move from her mouth to her throat and the top of her breast, which was nicely laced in and welling up very invitingly underneath her blouse. He suspected conspiracy between Liv and the Cair Paravel staff to make her as irresistible as possible. "And Mrs. Furner and Jezebel will scold us both if we muss you up right before you sail."

"The knife is in a calf holster, right side. Wouldn't interfere with anything. Could make it more exciting."

"Well in that case…" He tugged at the tie on her shirt and with her helpful shrug, it slid down her arms.

"And if we really muss me up, I might end up pregnant for which they would forgive everything!"

That sounded to be a superb idea worth exploring in softer places than a rooftop. "Here's a thought. The ship sails without you, you stay here, we borrow one of those Calormene illustrated books hidden in the Palace, and you and I work through it over the Winter."

"But then I'd definitely be pregnant by the time the Great Bonding rites started and there's no way I'd be able to fit in the egg or swim to the bottom of the lake."

"We'll have to draw straws to see who gets to do the Revel."

She shook her head emphatically, interrupting the kisses and nips. "No. Absolutely not. We both do that one." Liv used the finger not worming its way into the intimate space between his trousers and bare skin to draw little whorls on his chest. "I'll paint your bare body myself. All over." She pushed his shirt aside and kissed the place she had teased, smiling at her accomplishment as he squirmed under her touch. "We'll drink the Wood-wine and dance by the bonfire. I'll watch the Satyrs and Dryads fondle and kiss you; we'll defeat the evergreen Trees in battle, and make love on the grass under the Stars, everyone around us, just like the picture in the Regalia…"

"The goddesses shall bless you, as you shall bless the orchards and fields." Edmund cupped his hands on her backside and pulled her closer, cold wall pressed to his back, warm woman who would be his Queen pressed to his front. He wasn't sure what they could do up here on the balcony, but sliding her trousers over her round hip and down her legs to catch on the knife strapped there was a start in the right direction.

The lumpy bag of shinys lodged between them and stabbed them both in the legs.

Liv winced and took a step back. "Ouch. Sorry. Maybe this isn't the best time and place."

He let out a deep breath, scrabbling for a bit of calm that was hard to find when Liv was standing before him, red-faced, grinning, and already mostly out of her top and partly out of her bottoms with naught else but her skin and a corset. This hunger for someone, and the ability to see it enthusiastically met and satisfied, was intoxicating, but with none of the unpleasant side effects.

"Are you alright?" she asked, carefully redoing the ties on his shirt. He nodded and lightly kissed her pout. She tried to tuck his shirt back in to his belt but that would just start them up all over again.

"Better than alright," he replied, seeing to his own reordering. "I assure you, if there wasn't something important that still needed doing, I'd just chuck the shinys over the wall for the Crows to find and carry on." He pulled the bag away and prised it open. "But there is something in here for you, if you would."

Liv pulled her trousers up, shrugged back into her shirt, and eagerly leaned forward. "What is it? A favour?"

"It is, my lady and Queen-to-be."

They'd carried each other's favours into tourneys for years. This was different, though. "So many Narnians woo with gifts, I have something for you, if you will, to take with you to Narrowhaven. I reluctantly concede this is better than ravishing each other atop the Palace's South Tower."

"Oh Ed! Did you get me a shiny rock? Nesting material for our brood to come?"

"Shiny, certainly." He opened his palm to show her the golden Lion pin. "Would you consent to wear this, Liv, so that all would know of our bond?"

Her face softened and she kissed him gently. "I would be honoured, Prince Edmund."

He carefully pinned the heavy broach on her shirt.

"Your mother gave it to you to give to me?"

"She did. And was happy to do so. There's symmetry here, actually. Father gave it to her when he left Narrowhaven after that first Conclave he attended. So now I give it to you just as you return there for your first Conclave."

He could tell that there were things about that long ago leave-taking that had saddened Mother, but she would not explain them. "This was very important to your father and he would have wanted you to present it to Liv," Mother had said, seeming very relieved to part with it. Mother had never forgiven Aslan; he thought she'd worn the pin for so many years out of loyalty to Father and Narnia and not as a devotion to the Lion.

Liv glanced down and fingered the pin at her breast. "This isn't like you, Ed, rushing headlong, no procrastination, without me to push you? Or, perhaps that is the push? You are worried I'll run off with a Banker!"

He snorted lightly, scoffing at the mere idea of it. Their cousin, Ronda, loved the Bankers' tight strictures, a roof always overhead, and a life ordered by schedules, bells, and neat rows of numbers that always had to add up. Liv would manage shut-in and Conclave, as she managed everything, but a lifetime of it would wilt her Narnian bloom.

"No, it's not that, Liv. I'm cautious when I'm uncertain as to outcomes. I'm not uncertain about you. I wanted you to know before you left how much I love and respect you." He drew her into his arms and gently kissed the top of her head. "Father and Mother dithered for so long. Lucy and Aidan had so little time. And Fooh and Lambert both said that Peter and Susan sought mates for years. Look at all the sadness and burden that came of their waiting. I'm not going to waste time hoping some nebulous fantasy of perfection might cross my path."

If he'd said that to someone else, they would take offence. Liv, though, knew exactly what he meant.

"So I'm not perfect?"

"You know what I'm saying, Liv."

She nodded against his chest, tilted her head and kissed him. "I do. But I want you to say it."

"I see no reason to procrastinate when I could be, when I know I want to be, with a woman who is wonderful and wise, whom I have loved for as long as I can remember, who is as trained for the tasks to come as I am, and who is right here. We owe it to ourselves and our subjects." He again took her hands, and spoke from his heart. "Princess Livinia of the Southern March, Quickwit and Wolf-daughter, will you join with me, rule with me, and bear our heirs?

Liv bent her head to his hands and kissed his signet ring. "Edmund Linch, Heir to the Throne of Narnia by birth, right, and prescription, Crow's Son, Prince of Morning, long may you reign, and I beside you. Aslan grant, the line we establish shall endure to the end of Narnia."

ooOOoo

And they lived happily ever after to the end of their days.

ooOOoo

-End-

Rthstewart May 2014

ooOOoo

I owe deep thank yous to those of you who so kindly reviewed the last chapter. They are coming. Thanks so much to those who shared with me as we built this story together.

Though the happy ever after was denied to his parents, Edmund Linch, Crow's Son, has a long, lovely life and reign with his partner, equal, and best friend in all things, Livinia Quickwit. Not repeating the mistakes of the older generation, they saw what they wanted, started young, and never looked back. I found their ending satisfying and I hope you do, too.