Chronicles of Narnia 1. The Path Diverge

**A/N:** This is movie-based with research from the books thrown in. While the beginning is a bit Edmund heavy (given how much happens in Narnia than in real time), the children will soon reunite and the real adventure begins.

* * *

Edmund could feel Philip tiring beneath him as they raced through the woods. By mutual consent (though neither spoke) they slowed their pace until Susan, followed closely by Lucy who gave a delighted laugh as she galloped pass, overtook them.

Once the girls had pulled ahead, Philip came to a stop, breathing hard. Edmund briefly glanced up to note the direction his siblings had taken before leaning forward to address his friend, concern radiating from his words. "You all right, Philip?"

Panting, Philip replied, "Not as young as I once was."

Edmund smiled at the frank answer, slightly wistful, and didn't disagree. The Talking Horse had been a mature, battle-tested adult when he first met Edmund, who was then only a young boy (so very young, he thought with a tinge of regret.) They have shared many years, and even more battles, since then.

Their moment of quiet reflection was interrupted when Edmund's siblings came riding back, questioning him on the delay even before coming to a halt. Although Edmund couldn't deny that Philip had grown old, he was reluctant to acknowledge it to the others and instead said, "Just catching my breath."

That, of course, inevitably led to some light teasing from his sisters, and Edmund grinned in good humor without offering a word in defense. Peter just gently laughed along but otherwise remained neutral – experience had probably taught him better than to step in and open himself up as a target for the young queens.

In the years after, once the rawness of the pain had diminished somewhat with time, it'd be these last few minutes – minutes of lighthearted joy that had seem unbreakable – that Edmund would often think of, when he allow himself to think of his siblings at all; for these memories carried with them such a heavy bittersweetness that it threatens to suffocate. However, it was the crippling sorrow that was the true reason he dare not let himself dwell on thoughts of his brother and sisters.

Here, their moment of levity pass when Peter caught sight of the lamp post.

"What's this?" Peter asked, quietly as if to himself. The High King swung off his horse to get a closer look of the flickering lantern light.

The lamp post immediately caught all of their attention, stirring up memories that had faded and been forgotten – like a dream that can't be recalled after one wakes, though feelings and images still linger. They all dismounted, staring up at the light as they tried to remember. Lucy was the first to act; her face broke into a wondering smile as she caught up her dress and ran off into the woods, seeming to follow a trail only she could see. Susan muttered, "not again," as she took off after their wayward sister. Peter and Edmund shared a look before they, too, ran after the young queen.

However, Edmund had taken no more than three steps before Philip's suddenly labored breathing stopped him short. He spared his fast vanishing siblings a glance before running back to his friend, who was trying to make a slow descend onto the ground. It looked more like a controlled fall than collapse, but only just.

"Philip?" Edmund asked, voice tight, as he dropped beside the horse. He placed one hand at the soft quivering spot just beneath Philip's jaw while his other reached behind the ear to gently guide his head onto his lap.

Philip didn't answer; he only continued to lay there, his breaths coming in harsh and short and his whole body shook with strain. The whites of his eyes were showing.

"All right, Philip, it's okay. You're okay.. just take deep breaths," Edmund said, for lack of a better suggestion while desperately wanting to help. Then he added in a whisper that sounded more like prayer than request, "please."

The old horse nodded to let his young friend know he heard. It was an obvious effort for Philip to take slower, deeper lungful of air, but he kept at it as if for the sake of the panic-driven man. They stayed tense and still for a few minutes before any improvements in his breathing could be gleamed.

"See, I told you you'd be okay," Edmund said a tad shakily. Even though young, he had dealt with his share of deaths – through war, illness and, yes, old age – still, he wasn't prepare to accept this eventuality of his friend just yet.

It took another few minutes before Philip managed to regain his feet, albeit a little unsteadily. Edmund's focus was so tuned to the horse that he didn't realize the stillness of the woods around them until now; his siblings' voices very obviously lacking in filling the strumming silence.

"Peter?" Edmund shouted, turning in a circle. "Susan! Lucy!"

As he waited for an answer, a cold dread slowly filled his heart. Logic told him they had probably just wandered too far to hear his calls, yet a part of him – a part unnamed but real all the same – somehow sensed that his siblings were not only beyond the reach of his voice, but of his reach at all.

His hand settled once more on Philip, but instead of conferring comfort he now sought it from the Talking Horse.

The minutes stretched. No stifled laughter within the trees reveal his siblings playing one of their old games on him, nor merry conversations to break the quietude of the woods. No indications of his siblings were forthcoming.

Edmund was utterly alone.

* * *

The once King and Queens of Narnia tumbled into an undignified heap as they fell through the wardrobe doors. They looked to each other in bewilderment and not a small amount of shock to find themselves not only back in Professor Kirke's mansion, but back to their adolescent selves as well.

Before anyone could say anything regarding this startling turn of event, Professor Kirke walked into the room, the cricket ball in his hand. He raised a brow at the children sprawled on the floor, surprise evident on his face, but there was also eagerness and hope in the way he looked at them.

"What were you all doing in the wardrobe?" asked Kirke, with a kind of excited expectation in the way he voiced the question.

The siblings exchanged a look before Peter turned his face up toward the older man. "You wouldn't believe us if we told you, sir."

Kirke smiled and looked ready with a retort, but Susan's sudden exclamation stopped him.

"Where's Edmund?" she said, scrambling up toward the still open – and empty but for the coats – wardrobe.

The others hurried after Susan, who was already back inside the wardrobe and pounding on the wood backing to no avail. "Edmund!" she demanded seemingly of the otherwise deserted closet, looking quite silly if not for the way her eyes tightened in the corners and the genuine concern that shook her voice.

Professor Kirke took a couple steps back, subtly chewing his lips in anxiousness. Lucy caught the look on the older man and mistook his expression for worry over Susan's suddenly inexplicable behavior. She hurried to assure him with all sincerity: "Edmund was in there with us, sir. Honest! He should have came through with us."

Kirke said nothing, not even to scoff at Lucy's overactive imagination. "Do you know something, Professor?" Peter asked, suspicion raised as he connected the way Kirke greeted them and the way he was acting now.

He looked at the children, who all – including Susan – looked back with varying degrees of confusion and hope. And hesitant trust that he somehow held the answer.

Kirke turned his gaze from the children to the wardrobe, his eyes trailing the details of its designs. For a brief moment he seem unaware of his audience. Then he came to himself with a sigh, once again his attention rested on the Pevensies.

"How does the saying go?" Kirke asked himself as he turned to lead them all to the window seat, where he took a moment to settle himself before continuing. "Oh yes, I remember. Once upon a time..."

* * *

"Lucy!" Edmund yelled at the top of his lungs as he galloped through the forest, repeating the names of his siblings at regular interval even as his voice grew hoarse. The steed under him was unfamiliar, but what he needed was a strong horse rather than a strong friend, and thus had left Philip to the care of his subjects at the base camp.

It had been days since the last Edmund saw anything of his siblings, and he never once stopped looking. Never left these woods.

The courtiers that had accompanied the young royalties on the stag hunt found themselves on a very different hunt once they caught up with Edmund. Their king had immediately took charge and swiftly organized searches of the surrounding areas while giving very little detail of what happened. A message was dispatched with all haste for reinforcements.

They were at a lost in the face of Edmund's quiet desperation and dwindling hope, so unlike his usual self. He would rarely take rest and could only be talked into getting some sleep once daylight failed, where even he could see the logistical problems of continuing the search in the dark.

Whispers began to stir on the third day of this fruitless endeavor, when it was becoming clear the toll this was taking on Edmund's health, mentally and physically. The rest of the company fared little better, running themselves ragged trying to keep up with Edmund's demanding pace.

So his friends and courtiers could only watch on as their king withdrew more into himself when each hour failed to bring even a hint of his siblings' whereabouts. His entire focus so centered on the search for his vanished brother and sisters that it appeared he cared for little else, even to the running of his kingdom. When anyone voiced their concern, their only answer was a cold glare and colder rebuff.

And so this state of affair continued, until at last Oreius arrived, bringing with him a small contingent of troops.


	2. Finding Home

The professor came to the end of his story and he sat back to watch the children's reactions. Peter, Susan and Lucy mulled over what they've learned, exchanging brief glances with each other.

"So there is a way to go back?" Lucy asked with hope, the first to voice what was foremost on the Pevensies' minds.

Kirke gazed at the young girl with sympathy. "Child, do you truly believe you would be here if Aslan had meant for you to stay in Narnia?"

"But what of Edmund?" Peter demanded.

To this, Kirke had no answer.

* * *

Oreius could not be deterred. Edmund paced his horse restlessly before the general, anger shimmering just beneath the cold exterior.

When Edmund had finally retired to the temporary camp for the night and found Oreius, the immediate feeling of relief at seeing his general was hardly a surprise. However, he didn't expect the Centaur to firmly steer him away, beyond a screen of trees and a ways from the camp, the moment Oreius set eyes on his king.

"You would have me abandon my family, your sovereigns, to this unknown fate?" Edmund asked with deadly calm once the Centaur had made clear of his intentions.

"I would have you, your Majesty, think of your kingdom and your people. Do not abandon _them_ in their hour of need." Oreius held up a hand to forestall any further protests. "I will remain here to head the search until such times as you have settled the affairs of state to the satisfaction of your councilors, and have selected a suitable regent to take your place if you continue to insist on being here yourself."

"Can there be any questions of where my place is, General?" Edmund asked icily. "Things will keep at Cair Paravel until my family is found."

"But for how long?" Oreius asked.

Edmund didn't answer, instead he stared at the ground and gritted his teeth. It was true that he could not leave his duties so abruptly without making clear of who was in authority during his absence. Though Narnia had experienced years of prosperity and peace like none had seen before, it would be unwise, to say the least, to leave his people without word or assurance, and just _hope_ things would continue as before.

"I will send messengers back with instructions," Edmund said, knowing it wouldn't work but was grasping at any way that'd release him from having to waste a journey back home.

"Do you truly believe you can leave the running of the entire kingdom with just a few dispatches, your Majesty?"

Edmund finally raised his eyes and glared hard at Oreius, who retained eye contact with the young man with impassivity. "Then let's settle things here and now. What if I should appoint you as my regent, General? I trust you above all else of my subjects, and I can think of none other who has as much love for our country and know her so well as you, save my brother and sisters."

Oreius bowed at Edmund's words, but he was unmoved. "You honor me, my king, but I would be a poor choice indeed. My place is with my men on a field of battle. In combat and warfare few could rival me, but in the capacity as head of state, I have no doubt that the kingdom would presently descend into chaos, and be at war with no less than two of our neighbors." Here he smiled, recalling for them both the (rare) times when the Centaur had been called upon to take on the role of a diplomat – and the near disasters it result.

Edmund couldn't help returning the smile (the time when a single sentence from Oreius that was almost interpreted as a declaration of war came to mind), or acknowledge the truth of his words. "It looks like you leave me no choice," he said with resignation. Then his voice hardened again as he continued, "I will return as soon as I'm able. In the meantime, I expect reports on even the slightest signs of my brother and sisters. I know not of the manners in which they have disappeared, but if it looks to be a kidnapping, or worse, you should know I'll have our army readied, and I shall be in its lead, no matter that I've left things unfinished at the Cair."

Oreius bowed once more. "Understood, my liege."

* * *

The company at the temporary camp couldn't see or hear what the general and their king was about, but the occasionally raised voice gave them a pretty good idea. They waited tensely and in uncomfortable silence, unable to make conversation and, for inexplicable reasons, fearing to make even the smallest sound.

What was said in this secret conference they never knew, but the result was that King Edmund rode back to his waiting subjects announcing that he and his courtiers were to leave at first light, leaving the general in charge of continuing the search. Oreius was a few steps behind; his eyes sought out his captains, who quickly came to the fore to receive their orders.

While Edmund's dark mood remain, he appeared less desperate and restless than the days before. The burden he shouldered was still there, but he now had someone – with whom his trust was absolute – to share it with. Edmund and Oreius conferred quietly through the night, the general even managing to convince the young king to partake in a full meal. The tension of the entire camp was still palpable, but the suffocating gloom and despair was lifted, and they found renew strength and determination.

Edmund and his courtiers departed the next morning as promised. The young sovereign said naught except to charge those staying to thoroughly search these woods and not to return until their three missing monarchs were found.

Edmund and Oreius exchanged a brief glance, then the young man turned and led his procession east, back toward their home.

* * *

"Do you think Aslan had meant for Edmund to stay behind?" Lucy asked of his older siblings.

Susan and Peter looked to each other, then Susan shook her head. "I wish we know, Lucy. Though I can't believe he would intentionally separate us."

It was unthinkable for any of them that Aslan would, for any reason, divide their family so. They were strongest together, and to be alone such as Edmund must be was unthinkable.

"How do you think he is doing?" Lucy asked, as she had been doing non-stop since Professor Kirke left them in their room.

Peter sighed, patience worn thin by the constant questions and by the unquieting feeling stemmed from his absent brother. "How should we know, Lucy?" he snapped.

Susan cuffed him smartly on the head, making him raise his eyes in surprise to her. Then he noticed Lucy, sitting cross-legged like they were, had her arms about herself as if to hold herself close. Susan opened her arms and Lucy scrambled into them.

"I'm sorry, Lu. Truly. We're just worried," Peter said gently, chagrined at his behavior.

"We can't leave Edmund behind," Susan said. Though a child once more, her bearings and the confidence in her words marked her a queen. "I don't care what the professor thinks, I refuse to believe that Aslan would intentionally tear Edmund from us, or us from him."

"I know, you're right," Peter said. "We have to go back for him."

"What if he's happy there?" Lucy, still snuggled tight in Susan's arms, didn't look at her older siblings. "I miss Narnia terribly... I don't think I would have come back if the choice was mine."

Peter reached out to gently lift Lucy's head by the chin until they were staring eye to eye. "Can you honestly say you'd have been happy, even in Narnia, without the rest of us?"

Lucy looked deep into herself, then shook her head no; life without her siblings would be no life at all, here or anywhere. Still, despite Peter and Susan's determination to retrieve Edmund, there was the obstacle of actually getting back to do so. She said, "Professor Kirke buried those rings when he returned from Narnia, and that must have been _ages_ ago!" The implication behind her words were clear: it might well prove impossible to find those rings he spoke of in the story, after so long.

"We have to try," Peter said, speaking for all of them.

After a space of silence, Lucy whispered, "Are we to defy the Great Lion?" Susan gathered her little sister even closer as she looked to Peter.

"If we must," Peter said grimly.

Susan added, "Then so be it."


End file.
