╔══════════════════╗

WALKING IN THE WIND
xi. PRINCE CASPIAN IS NOT A LADIES' MAN!

╚══════════════════╝

  HOPE SUPPOSED THAT SINCE she was technically over 1,000-years-old, now was a good time as any to have a midlife crisis.

  Hope was always a simple girl with even simpler ambitions: tend to the princess, aid those who needed it, try to keep up with life before it left her behind. She was never the kind of girl who took the spotlight or led others. She was always just sort of... there, but she was perfectly content with being such an insignificant person in the universe. Why? Because no one is ever really insignificant. All beings are placed on this planet intentionally. Some people merely have bigger purposes in life than others, and Hope was what one might call "others."

  Maybe life wasn't perfect, but it was okay enough for her to feel content waking up every morning. Although it was redundant at times, it was predictable, safe. Or, it was until life decided to give her the middle finger and throw a million issues onto her lap all at once.

  And now, among the fall of kingdoms and bothersome best friends, Hope's... boy... person... thing was confessing his love for her.

  Yeah, thanks a lot, Aslan.

  She couldn't articulate why she reacted like that when Edmund said he felt... that particular way about her. Then again, with everything that happened in the past 24 hours, how else was she meant to react?

  Hope didn't even know what love was — not really. She knew she loved her father, and she loved Odette terribly, but this was different. At least, she sensed it was. Plus, she'd never been in a serious relationship before, and the only couple around to act as an example was King David and Queen Lydia! She'd heard of love before, and yet she didn't know it. It was just a word, but it existed with so much gravity to it that the impact felt fatal. Was that what it meant to love someone? To be okay standing close enough to someone to not care about the impact of the fall?

  Loving Edmund didn't sound like the worst thing in the world, but the thought of him loving her after everything they'd been through troubled her. How could anyone love her after all of the madness she put Odette and Wysteria through? Love was a paradise she didn't deserve.

  But Edmund wasn't the one to get mad at in this predicament. All he ever did was listen to his heart, and it led him to her. Stupid, blind, naïve Hope Edwards. She didn't mean to lash at him, but every hour, things got more and more complicated. Was she overreacting? Was she underreacting? Maybe she could figure it out if her head ever stopped spinning. At this point, all she desired was for everyone to disappear for a day or two.

  Though she was irritated with herself, she couldn't deny the relief of getting a fraction of her pent-up frustrations out of her system — even if it was a small ember of the greater fire within her.

  For as long as midnight stained the skies, Hope sat beneath a tall tree, desperately trying not to bang her head against its trunk repeatedly. She decided not to return to the campsite for a moment longer, deciding that sitting in the dirt and staring up at the moon in hopes of it bringing her clarity was a better idea. She had planned on reuniting with the others before it was too late, but she fell asleep beneath the tree before she could.

  She didn't remember drifting to sleep. All she knew was that she was trying to organize her cluttered thoughts and feelings (and failing miserably), closing her eyes for a mere minute, and awakening the next morning to the feeling of someone breathing in her face.

  "You're certain you don't recognize her?"

  "I'm afraid not. Should we wake her?"

  It wasn't an ideal wake-up call, but it was one nonetheless. Hope had never focused so hard on being still. Her only movement was in her chest as she softly breathed through her nose, her head lulled to the side. She wasn't sure how long she'd last though, for her back was itching from the tree trunk's tough bark indenting her skin. The feeling of someone staring at her made her want to squirm, though not as much as the feeling of their hot breath on her face.

  "If that is what you wish, Your Highness. But might I warrant caution?"

  "What for? She's just a girl."

  "Yes, but she is armed, sir."

  The honorific sent her heart plummeting into her stomach. Your Highness. Aside from Odette and the Pevensies, the only other monarchs in this land were the Telmarines.

  What would they do now that they found her? Would they take her? Would they kill her and torture her the same way they did to the Narnians? 

  No. She'd gotten this far. She wouldn't let them.

  Eyes fluttering open, Hope was immediately greeted by a face that was far too close for comfort. A boy (human, surprisingly) with tanned skin, deep brown eyes, and long brown hair crouched before her, which was enough of an indicator that he was no Narnian. He had to be a Telmarine. She was certain of it. So, she did what any sane person would do.

  She punched him in the face. Hard.

  A painful groan erupted from the boy as he toppled backward, his hand hovering over his nose. When he was far enough, she thrust her leg outward and kicked him between his legs — for good measure.

  "Your Highness!"

  Hope and the Telmarines withdrew their blades before either could speak or act again. The length of their weapons forced them to back away from one another. They stood tall with heated glares targeting their opponent. Blowing a strand of her out of her face, Hope firmly gripped her sword. It was the one thing in Narnia that didn't feel foreign to her. Her muscles were moving before she knew it.

  "Hasn't anyone ever advised you not to creep up on sleeping girls?!" Hope snapped.

  The boy before her was much taller than she was anticipating, not to mention notably muscular. Judging his stance, the results of them properly dueling could go either way. However, taking into consideration Hope's last 24 hours, she had a feeling she could walk away from this with a victory if she had to out of sheer spite. Nonetheless, he likely wouldn't advance on her for a moment after she attacked him so remorselessly.

  Between heavy breaths, he greeted, "My lady—"

  "I am not your lady!" Hope spat.

  He was taken aback by her response, and it showed on his face. "Lower your weapon if you know what's good for you!" he threatened.

  "Back up, and I'll consider it."

  The boy glared daggers into her head. If looks could kill...

  "Who are you?" he sharply commanded. "Who sent you?"

  Scoffing, Hope sneered, "Who sent me? I was peacefully sleeping! You were the one who approached me!"

  "The hostilities are unnecessary. I haven't a clue who you are!"

  Coldly, she remarked, "You will if you don't turn around and walk away!"

  Before he could respond, a loud shout caught their attention. Hope ducked as Peter Pevensie lunged forward, swinging his sword at the Telmarine. Immediately, the two boys broke out into a fight, no questions asked. Hope stepped back, not particularly eager to stand between two very sharp blades.

  They brandished their weapons, whirling them without relent. They clashed and clanged, shattering any peace the early morning could have brought. Hope didn't know where the others were or how Peter found her, but she was more concerned about what she was supposed to do in this situation.

  Peter jabbed his sword at the Telmarine, who dodged it with ease. The sword became lodged in the tree Hope had been previously sleeping under, allowing the Telmarine to seize it. Peter reached for a large rock on the ground, intending to bash the Telmarine's head in—

  "NO, STOP!" Lucy Pevensie screamed. She scrambled out from where she'd been hiding near the bushes. No one followed her, leading Hope to understand that Peter and Lucy were the only ones that had found her. At once, the fighting stopped as the smallest Pevensie roared.

  Finally, Hope's gaze flickered to the second person she heard speaking while she was pretending to sleep. Except he wasn't a person like the Telmarine was. Instead, he was a towering minotaur.

  Dozens upon dozens of figures appeared all around them without warning, each being drawn in by all of the noise. The crowd was composed entirely of mythical creatures: dwarves, centaurs, minotaurs, talking animals. They were Narnians. All of them.

  Peter, dyed with vexation, briefly stared at the Narnians in silence. Then, with narrowed eyes, he turned to the Telmarine and hesitantly asked, "Prince... Caspian?"

  Hope's attacker puffed out his chest, wiping away the blood that trickled from his bruised nose. "Yes. And who are you?" Caspian demanded.

  Hope held her breath, her cheeks burning bright red. This was the Telmarine Prince they'd been searching for... and she'd just punched him in the face.

  "PETER!" a voice suddenly barked. All heads turned to find Susan barreling toward the crowd with Edmund, Odette (who, unsurprisingly, looked exhausted from waking up several hours earlier than she would've preferred), and Trumpkin in tow.

  Caspian peered down at Peter's sword in his hand, studying it briefly. He recognized the markings on the blade and the golden hilt from the banned stories he grew up hearing. "High King Peter..." he realized.

  Arrogance clouded Peter. "I believe you called."

  "Yes, but..." Caspian faltered. "I thought you'd be older."

  "Well if you'd like, we can come back in a few years," Peter retorted, and had Hope not been as alert as she was, she would've missed the bitterness that stung his voice. He was tired of people doubting him for his age.

  "No!" Caspian quickly opposed. "That's alright. You're just..." He glimpsed between each member of the group, his gaze lingering on Odette, then Hope. He cringed at the memory of her right hook. "You're not exactly what I expected."

  "Neither are you," said Edmund, a bit grumpy from his abrupt awakening.

  An older badger stepped forward. "A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes," he wisely proclaimed.

  Staring at the talking animal, Odette muttered, "Yep, still not used to that."

  Lucy turned to Hope, briefly glancing at her withdrawn weapon. She had no idea her sister-in-law knew how to use one of those. If she didn't, she was putting on a fairly convincing show. "You attacked Narnians?" she asked, panicked.

  "What? No! No, I attacked this genius for getting in my face while I was asleep!" Hope defended, shooting Caspian another glare. "I'd apologize for bruising your nose, but I think you deserve it."

  Odette raised an eyebrow, eyeing Caspian disapprovingly. Meanwhile, Edmund demanded, "He what—?"

  "What were you doing out here anyway?" Susan intervened. "You didn't come back to the campsite last night."

  Hope fought a yawn as she replied, "I was getting some fresh air?"

  "But you were already outside."

  "Well-spotted, thanks!" Hope put her weapon away. "I needed a minute alone, and I ended up falling asleep out here. Not that that's of any importance right now."

  A small, gray mouse donning a red feather behind his ear scampered forward. He bowed to Peter. "We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege," he greeted. "Our hearts and swords are at your service."

  Hope and Odette exchanged glances. Even if they weren't on the most ideal terms, they couldn't help but cringe as they thought back to the mice that once ran rampant around Madame Minerva's Orphanage.

  There was an innocent smile on Lucy's lips. She leaned closer to her sister and Odette, gushing, "Oh my gosh, he is so cute!"

  The mouse's ears perked up. Instantly, he whipped out his toothpick of a sword and demanded, "WHO SAID THAT?"

  Squeaking, Lucy sheepishly said, "Sorry."

  The mouse's defensive nature softened once he realized who he yelled at. Bowing again, he said, "Oh! Your Majesty, with the greatest respect, I do believe courageous, courteous, or chivalrous might more befit a knight of Narnia."

  Peter smiled warmly at the small warrior. "Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade."

  As Caspian refrained from rolling his eyes, the small mouse confirmed, "Yes, indeed! And I have recently put it to good use securing weapons for your army, sire."

  Peter looked pleased. "Good. Because we're good to need every sword we can get."

  "Well then," Caspian sharply cut in, "you will probably be wanting yours back."

  If there was tension between Hope and... everyone, then the tension between Peter and Caspian somehow managed to rival it.

  Hope hardly spared Edmund a glance. She cringed recalling their conversation from last night. Maybe avoiding him would only cause more problems, but she wasn't thinking about that. As everyone settled down and Caspian led the large group, Hope decided to join Peter's side on their walk.

  Conversation blossomed from the group. The Narnians were eager and honored to stand in the presence of the High Kings and Queens of Old. Most had no clue who Odette was, but a few were old enough to vaguely recall a place as dreary as Wysteria. Meanwhile, everyone seemed to purposely avoid Hope upon learning her name. She told herself it wasn't that big of a deal, but their whispers behind her back made her think otherwise.

  The morning sun crested in the heavens as Peter and Hope walked side-by-side near the front. "You know, Lucy and I heard you hit Caspian back there," Peter commented. "I wish I could say I didn't know you had that in you, but I'm pretty sure this is the third time you've attacked a royal, yes?"

  Hope sighed. "I haven't the slightest clue how this keeps happening. I suppose everything's sort of catching up to me," she confessed, "or I'm just having a terrible day."

  "But the day just started?"

  "Yeah, I know," she grumbled, causing Peter to chuckle goodheartedly.

  "Well, it's safe to say that Prince Caspian is not a ladies' man!" Peter bantered. Hope shot him a look, to which he returned, "Oh, come on. You've already assaulted him. I'm sure he won't care for a harmless joke. Besides, he deserved it. Who sneaks up on sleeping girls?"

  "Right? Someone who didn't grow up around many women, surely," Hope laughed.

  "You know, I've never heard you talk like that before," Peter mentioned.

  "Well, London's arguably a far scarier place than Narnia and Wysteria. Ode and I had to learn how to toughen up. To tell you the truth, Ode's already quite intimidating. I think she gets it from her dad. Anyway, she taught me everything I know," Hope explained. "How'd you find Caspian and I anyway?"

  "Ah, Lucy," he simply said. "She left the campsite early this morning thinking Aslan was calling her. I woke up, saw you the two of you were missing, and that's how we found you."

  "Aslan? Again?"

  "Yes, I'm afraid she's gotten herself lost in her own mind again," Peter replied.

  "Just because it's in her head doesn't mean it can't be real," she reminded him. Peter didn't react much to her words, only smiling calmly. "You're in a good mood today, I see."

  "It's a beautiful day to save Narnia," he dismissed, humming. "Besides, no one wants to follow a gloomy king."

  Hope faltered at the weight of his words. She knew Odette struggled with this, but... did all royals feel this way? Did all of them put on a show for the sake of their people? How was she just now discovering this after being raised between castle walls? She wondered how much of himself Peter had sacrificed for his kingdom.

  Perhaps that was another reason why they called Peter the Magnificent. True magnificence comes from what we do when the world doesn't ask for it. It comes from what we care for, what we protect, and even what we sacrifice. It takes justice, gentleness, and valiance to make a person as magnificent as Peter Pevensie.

  "So? What are they like?" Hope overheard the badger from before, Trufflehunter, query.

  "Malcontents, complainers, stubborn as mules in the morning," Trumpkin grumbled.

  "Oh? So you like them, then?"

  "...Well enough."

  Smiling, Hope told Peter, "Seems like we're winning over Trumpkin."

  "Don't act so surprised, my sister," Peter teased. "They don't call me Prince Charming without a proper reason."

  Hope rolled her eyes, completely distracted by his terrible joke to realize what he'd called her. "My memory may be fleeting these days, but I'm certain no one's ever called you that," she taunted, "unless your diary's grown legs and turned into a person."

  Peter snorted. "You weren't kidding. London really has made you meaner!"

  "Like you're one to talk," Hope quipped, glancing back at the Narnians following them. She wore a small smile as she caught Edmund making small-talk with a trio of centaurs. "I can't believe I forgot this place existed."

  Peter shrugged. "The world's so big, it's hard not to forget all of the details. I suppose that's the beauty of life. You get to live it over and over again!" he said. "Though I can't lie. I wish I could truly forget about this place and experience it all over again. I'm often nostalgic for my first days in Narnia."

  "With a war that's changed the land and your prolonged absences, isn't this the same as your first days, more or less?" Hope wondered. "Narnia will see spring again, and you'll get to watch it return to life all over again."

  Peter smiled fondly at her. "I can see why he likes you. You're bright. He needs more of that."

  Warmth captured her cheeks, but before she could respond, they grew distracted by something in the distance, several feet past the treeline. In a big, open space was a fixture composed of rocks and stone. The closer they approached it, Hope learned this was an underground hideout for the Narnians that survived the Telmarines.

  Hope marveled at the sanctuary. Centaurs lined up on either side of the entrance. Each one possessed a mighty sword, which they held toward the heavens as they welcomed the Kings and Queens home. The Pevensies and Odette were the first to enter, with Hope and Prince Caspian following shortly after them.

  Inside resided dozens upon dozens of Narnians, though not as many as they were expecting. They busily worked by making weapons and armor for the war that was becoming more and more inevitable. Their focus broke only when they saw the Pevensies for the first time. It was a dimly lit cavern, torches staggered across the walls of the small space. For a moment, Hope wondered how no one had suffocated from the smoke or the walls hadn't yet collapsed.

  Susan, Lucy, and Odette traveled further to explore as Hope walked beside Peter and Edmund. She was still tense, arms crossed. She was purposely trying not to look at Edmund, and every so often, she would fail. That was when he'd look away, pretending he hadn't been staring at her.

  Caspian led the way as they took in their surroundings. "It may not be what you are used to, but it is defensible," he said. It was jarring knowing there were only a couple hundred Narnians left in existence, and they all existed under the same tiny roof. This certainly wasn't what the Kings of Narnia were used to, but for Hope, this looked like an average space where handmaids and servants worked: dark, crowded, noisy.

  A small faun trotted forward. "Your Majesties," he greeted, bowing politely, "let me be some of the first to welcome you. It is an honor to bask in your presence after all this time, King Peter, King Edmund. Oh, and you too, Queen Hope."

  Hope faltered, not processing her own name. Edmund and Peter exchanged puzzled glances. "I'm sorry, what did you—?" she started.

  "Peter!" Susan called. She stood near a narrow corridor, which seemed to lead into another room. "You all may want to see this."

  Hope didn't move. She was stuck trying to understand what that faun called her, causing Edmund to gently tug on her arm, pulling her toward the others. "Did... Did he say—?" she stammered, but she never ended up finishing her question.

  They gathered in a small opening hidden toward the eastern corner, almost hidden. With so many passageways and corridors lurking in the dark, this place managed to seem so big, yet so small. It reminded her much of a beehive.

  Peter clutched a torch in his hand, gliding the flame near the cavern walls to reveal a series of carvings. There must've been hundreds of small carvings, and all of them seemed to narrate a story without words. Four children gathered with linked hands in some, and in others, they were apart. They danced alongside dryads and did trivial tasks, like playing chess, reading, and baking. They rode horses into war and stood alongside a lion with crowns on their heads. These were the stories of the Pevensies throughout the Golden Age of Narnia.

  "It's us," Susan realized. Behind her and her sister was a carving of their dear friend, Mr. Tumnus as he stood alongside a lamppost in the snow, an umbrella in hand.

  Awestruck, Hope traced one nearest to her with her fingertips. "Incredible," she whispered.

  "We're here, too, Hope," Odette gasped. Her eyes were locked on a carving of two girls, their hands interlocked as they stood beside the Pevensies. One was a princess, the other was an ordinary girl. One carving showed Hope straightening out the princess's crown, following her around with a million objects piled up in her other arm. There was even one where Odette sat by a fireplace, only the fire grew and grew until it turned into Hope's long hair. The image transitioned into one of Hope sitting beside a boy.

  Odette's chest rose and fell with relief. This whole time, she was under the impression that she'd been erased from history. Perhaps the reality was that she was always there, only her name was lost to the passage of time.

  Hope's gaze flickered to another carving. This one was of a boy and a girl. They stood facing each other, smiling, eyes locked. "Who's that?" she wondered. It seemed a bit too romantic for it to be of the siblings.

  "King Edmund and His Hope," Caspian reported. "That's what the others call it. Those who don't resent the Queen, that is."

  "Why does everyone keep calling me that?" Hope weakly asked. "I'm no queen. I'm a handmaid."

  "Well, generally speaking, when a maiden marries a king, she becomes a queen," Caspian explained, somewhat puzzled. "I thought it was obvious. That is why your name lingers in the history of Narnia."

  Odette cringed.

  Hope tried not to scoff. "The history of Narnia," she muttered. "A history where people hate me. Lovely."

  "Not everyone," Caspian insisted before faltering, "but most."

  Hope sighed. Just another thing to add to her plate.

  Lucy looked up from another etching. "What is this place?"

  Again, Caspian was colored with surprise. "You don't know?" When he was met with silence, he seized a torch that'd been hanging on the cavern wall and took the lead.

  The group squeezed further into the underground sanctuary, coming into another room that was even darker than the previous section. Caspian lit a fire that dashed around the outskirts, illuminating the cave. Though it was warm, goosebumps pricked Hope's arms. Carvings of Narnians and Aslan decorated the walls. Archaic statues, much like the ones they saw in the treasure chamber, protectively rallied around them as the fire danced across the walls. It wasn't until the fire reached the other side that they noticed the cracked Stone Table in the center of the room.

  Hope's heart stopped. Could it be...?

  This was the Stone Table where Aslan once laid, where Aslan shed his mane and sacrificed his life for a traitor. It was just like the stories (though really, what else was she expecting? It was just an ordinary stone table, after all. But that wasn't what made it special. The story that unfolded here was what gave the cracks on this table meaning).

  Her mind flashed to Edmund. She wondered how he felt seeing the table again after all this time.

  Lucy was the first to walk forward. The others followed. Together, they gawked at the table. Aslan swept their minds and hearts, but his presence in their spirits wasn't enough to make the world less cold. Where was he?

  "He must know what he's doing," Lucy quietly said.

  Hope studied the carving of the Great Lion on the wall behind the Stone Table. Different thoughts ran through their minds, conflicting ones, ones that included questions that no one but Aslan could answer.

  But Aslan was a long way from here. He hadn't been seen in years, and all who remained were his chosen ones.

  "I think it's up to us now," Peter confessed.

  "Maybe," Lucy said, "but he's still with us in spirit."

  He didn't want to say it out loud, especially to his little sister of all people, but even his faith in Aslan was weakening. He wasn't sure if she could tell. He hoped she couldn't.

  But call it a hunch, call it a gut feeling, call it a sixth sense — Lucy could feel Peter's faith dwindling.

  So what if it was? That didn't change the fact that the fight hadn't yet ceased. They just had to keep going a bit longer, just until Aslan came back to save them.

  Hope swallowed a knot in her throat. Saving an entire kingdom seemed like a lot of pressure. But there were all of these people depending on the Pevensies, depending on Hope, who apparently was a Queen of Narnia, depending on a princess of a lost kingdom, depending on a prince who turned his back on his own. They had no choice but to fight.

  They couldn't screw this up.