Edited: 4/24/2024

Briar didn't say a word as she and Caspian followed Reepicheep towards the edge of the Narnian colony. Something inside of her, perhaps a long-forgotten instinct, told her she'd said enough for now. She was liable for anything she said from this moment onward. To whom, she wasn't certain–all she knew was that she'd put herself on thin ice and had to tread carefully.

They went back to their tents to collect their belongings. Briar needed no urging to slip behind the safety of the curtains, away from prying eyes. She found a quiver of bolts laid next to her crossbow on the table. How can they entrust a bow to me, but not trust me? Her archery gloves were neatly folded next to the bow along with her father's compass. It was placed under one of the gloves, left with the latch closed.

Briar popped the latch open and stared down at the keepsake. A red arrow swiveled about in circles within a glass case, fogged and dented by time. Beneath the glass, a tattered, yellowing cloth bore the etchings of directions. The "N" for north was almost unreadable. She turned it over in her palm. On the bottom, there was an engraving. It looked like a crown, but with three arches that centered above it, topped with a cross. Whatever it was, it certainly didn't look Telmarine.

Even so, the foreign trinket was all Briar had left of her father. Sighing, she tucked it into her pocket and returned to the group.

When she emerged, a large gathering of creatures waited at the base of the hill. An assortment of fauns, wolves, a leopard, a minotaur, conversed with Truffle-hunter and Nikabrik. That's a lot of scouts. Caspian stood with Reepicheep near the edge of the gathering. Upon seeing his sister, he waved her over.

Then, they were off.

The noise of camp faded behind them while they trekked into the woods. Briar missed the faint buzz of noise immediately. The growing silence hung in the air like the smell of a rotting carcass. Was her meeting with the Council public knowledge? Her heart began to race, and Briar reprimanded herself. It was useless to ask questions that she couldn't answer, especially ones that made her more paranoid. All she could do to help herself was observe. As always, she thought sourly.

The few creatures around Briar spoke very softly; a few even tried to discreetly glance at her. If they were trying to conceal their curiosity, it wasn't working. Then again, no efforts ever did. People were always watching her. Their eyes were like invisible hands that crawled all over her. Everyone searched royalty for imperfections, everyone judged those who would inherit the crown. Briar was still learning to live with the feeling.

It made her eyelids twitch.

I should've just demonstrated my ability. She was too cautious, and now she probably looked stupid for making such a huge claim without any evidence. She was naive, and the Council knew it. No wonder they'd shipped her off with half the Council to explore.They were testing her, because her words meant nothing. Even I can see it.

They're just keeping me involved to keep Caspian happy. The thought made her teeth grind. All her life, every thought, every reason, and query she ever had, everything she'd ever wanted to say to counter those above her had to be wrestled down. And now, to make matters worse, Briar had to deal with voices in her head and brand-new abilities that could have her skip entire lifetimes if she wasn't careful...not to mention she'd made herself a fool in front of the Council.

To them, she was just Caspian's little sister, a dainty, unstable, defenseless princess who couldn't speak up for herself, let alone back her own claims. And they were right. She couldn't, because girls never had to find their own way in the world; they were only told where to go.

Briar wanted to make her own way. But clearly, I can't.

"How are you doing?"

Briar looked down in surprise to see a small, golden mouse scampering next to her. While they walked, his eyes were fixed on her. For some reason, it didn't bother her. The way he looked at her was full of concern, genuine concern. His eyes weren't searching for reason to be malcontent with who she was.

"Terrible." The word came out of Briar's mouth before she could stop herself. Her cheeks flushed a rose red. "Sorry," she cleared her throat. "I should really be grateful. You saved my brother and I."

Peepiceek's little brow furrowed. "Never apologize for being honest, Briar. What's on your mind? If you'd like to share, of course," he quickly added.

Everything that's wrong with society. That's what's on my mind.

"I don't know. I just feel...unlucky."

"Well, you'll be happy to know that there's no such thing as luck," he said.

Briar huffed, kicking at a pebble underfoot. "I find that hard to believe."

"Well, I don't believe things happen by chance," he chided, his voice taking on a more wistful tone. "Everything has purpose and meaning, sometimes beyond our understanding. Take your arrival to Narnia for example."

"We got lucky."

"Did you?" Peepiceek challenged. "Or was it intended to happen that way all along?"

The two stopped. The rest of the party wove around them as they walked by. His words nailed Briar's feet to the ground as if they'd dug deep roots into the soil. Peepiceek bounded in front of her, pointing a paw at her.

"Doubt creates these imaginary outcomes," he said. "They don't actually exist. 'Luck' is an excuse to scare yourself with the past to prevent yourself from taking risks in the future. Don't discredit yourself, Briar. You escaped Telmar, and you were meant to do so."

Silence.

"It's reassuring, isn't it?" he hummed softly. The mouse gestured for her to follow, and the two hurried to catch up to the group. The grass had already been trampled over, leaving a trail to where the others were just up ahead.

"Take us, for instance," the mouse said. "The fact that I found you was not by pure luck. It happened intentionally so that you and I might have a friendship different than the ones you will forge here later on."

"So, what, your morning routine consists of a jaunty saunter by the river to search for drowned children?"

"That's grossly oversimplifying things, but yes." Peepiceek shot her an amused look. "It clears my head. I go for walks around these parts. Or, at least I used to before the Ford at Beruna--"

"Ford at Beruna?" Briar cut in.

"I can see manners never hold you back," Peepiceek remarked.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Maybe I'm just tired of holding my tongue my entire life to preserve my 'reputation,'" she chided. Which I've already ruined, she added to herself. Maybe Lady Azur had a point in being silent after all.

Despite her nonchalant delivery, her words felt like she'd rubbed acid into a cut. The mouse's tail curled in thought. If he had any interest in the subject, he didn't show it. "Well, Telmarines are working on a bridge over the Great River. Discovered it myself. I tend to venture a bit farther than the average mouse, hence why I often scout ahead."

"That still doesn't explain how you didn't just find me by luck."

"Well, you can be stubborn about it if you wish. I just know that I was supposed to get side-tracked that day. It didn't happen by chance." Peepiceek adjusted the hold on the small, brown belt that he wore across his body. A little rapier the length of his tail was attached to it, and he gave it a reassuring pat.

That sounded incredibly naïve, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "You're acting like someone has planned out everything that's ever supposed to happen."

A smile spread across the mouse's face as he turned to look up at her. "That's because He has," he winked.

What? Her mind's inner commotion froze.

"Stop!" Reepicheep suddenly hissed.

Everyone halted. Briar found herself in the center of the circle. He put a paw in the air. Raising his nose, he gave a thoughtful sniff. A black wolf did the same, and both of their ears pricked up.

"I smell him; Trumpkin is here."

"He is?" Nikabrik cut in. "Where?"

"But," the wolf's voice grew cautious, "there is a new scent, also. It splits off," the wolf observed. "What should we do, sire?"

Without hesitation, Reepicheep turned to Briar. "Why don't you take a few soldiers and go find Trumpkin?" he suggested, a gleam in his pleasant eyes.

"Really?" her eyes widened.

"Yes, really."

Briar beamed. She wanted to hug the mouse–but now wasn't the right time. She examined the group. Her eyes settled on two wolves, both of which were gazing at her expectantly. One was speckled with white and brown fur, while the other was jet black. They both gazed at her intently, ears alert.

"We will go," the speckled wolf said. "Take us."

What is with these wolves? Every time one was nearby, it felt like they were watching her. They followed her every move. I could use the help.

"Alright." Briar took a deep breath. She nodded to them before facing the mice. "You too, Peep."

The golden-furred swordsman grinned. "My sword is yours, your Highness."

The four broke off from the main party, progressing down the Lantern Waste's rocky terrain. The wolves' eyes glistened in anticipation. One trotted ahead while the other kept behind. The animals' ears were up in alert as they drew closer.

The girl followed close behind, a slight bend in her knees as she sidestepped carefully. Her eyes kept glancing to the rocks underfoot, making sure to walk where she'd make no sound. If she was good at anything, it was being quiet. The silence grew louder, numbing her ears like the wind that came before a storm.

The black one looked black at her with flaring nostrils. "They are up ahead, your Majesty. What are your orders?" he asked.

Adrenaline spun through the girl's mind like wild, untamed winds. It buzzed loudly in her ears, accompanied by the quick, steady pulses of her heart. Briar moistened her lips, pressing her thoughts down so that she might think clearly. As always, her reliable mind introduced different factors of the situation, piecing it together before her.

"What are your names?" she asked.

"Grearsphin," he replied instantly, "and that's Mageen."

"Alright, Mageen, flank them from behind. Grearsphin," the freckled wolf's head shot up at her name, "keep 'round the side between them and the others; don't let them get by. Peep, you and I will go in."

"A sound plan," Peepiceek agreed.

Air filled Briar's lungs as she inhaled, forcing it back so that it came out slowly. "Alright," she whispered, glancing at each of them. "Break."

She blinked and the wolves bounded off and disappeared into the thicket. Peepiceek waited until she'd refocused and gave her a reassuring nod. Together, they advanced through the undergrowth.

Briar's brain went eerily silent as she wove her way around the jagged outcrops that poked out from the scattered, decaying leaves of the forest floor. Her footsteps were completely undetectable, in fact Peepiceek's soft patters were louder than her. When the girl was younger, she'd needed to learn to adapt to life within the castle. Being a young, impressionable girl meant that anything remotely eventful parted out of her way like a sea of blood. Briar learned she'd have to maneuver stealthily throughout the vast, stone halls in order to hear the happenings of the world outside of Lord Miraz's castle. Eventually, Professor Cornelius caught wind of her mysterious outings, and introduced her to the hidden labyrinth that wound around and between its stone architecture.

If Briar was to learn anything, she'd have to put herself through an anxiety-ridden journey in cramped, dusty passages to find it. Over time, she'd enlisted the help of Lydia to design peepholes into each of the rooms, hence how she'd been able to eavesdrop on the secret exchange of the gender of Uncle Miraz's son.

There were no secret passageways out here, in Narnia. Only wide-open spaces, filled with eyes and ears that were always watching. Or at least it was better to assume they were.

By the time Briar had convinced herself she was hallucinating the castle into existence, she came upon a small clearing. The space was nestled between several large boulders, underneath the safety of fir trees that encompassed it. Ashes laid in the center, the remains of a fire, while two figures laid still around it. One was a girl, Briar could tell by the dress, and the other was most definitely a dwarf, however it looked nothing like Nikabrik said.

Trumpkin.

Just as she approached to get a closer look, a twig cracked softly behind her. Briar whipped around and her crossbow raised to the torso of a boy standing behind her. He had a sword lifted to her neck. They both seemed to realize they had each other at the same time.

"You're...not Telmarine." For a moment, she'd thought he was. But his skin lacked the faint, olive sheen that Telmarines bore. His face was pale, with a tan and freckles dotting his complexion. Instead of dark hair, the boy had wispy, smoky-brown hair. She stared; her mind suddenly lost in whatever forest hid behind his earth-colored eyes. Hesitantly, both of them lowered their weapons.

"You are," he observed, giving her a once-over.

That snapped her out of her daze. "Do you have a problem with that?" She gripped her crossbow tighter.

"Do you?" he countered. He held his sword more stiffly, but he didn't raise it. The way he held her gaze gave Briar the impression that he was the kind of person who didn't miss a thing.

Instantly, she felt very self-aware.

"Princess Briar?" Mageen barked from atop one of the rocky inclines. "They're awake, and not hostile."

Well they aren't, Briar thought impudently. The scruffy-looking Not-Telmarine in front of her didn't convince her that he wasn't hostile himself, given that he'd just had her at sword-point.

The boy's soil-brown eyes widened as he sheathed his sword, although he kept a hand on its shaft. "It's you," he whispered, his voice twisting. "You're her."

Briar shifted her crossbow in her hands warily, squaring her shoulders. "I'm who, now?"

"You're the one who's been in my head. You're that telepathic girl--"

"Shh!" Briar shoved him back into the bushes, slapping a hand over his mouth. "Gods, keep your voice down!" she hissed.

Edmund recoiled, swiping her away and it resulted in a crisp 'slap!' A tingling sensation arose from her forearm. Her jaw dropped at him.

"Did you just slap me?" she hissed.

The boy's expression, which had been wide from surprise at his own actions, suddenly slackened. The slightest hint of a smirk rolled onto his lips, and he almost looked... proud of himself.

"You're a miscreant!" Instinctively, Briar lunged, ignoring the way the boy ducked and swatted, whacking him back with the hardiness of her palm.

"Ow!" Edmund complained, a grotesque expression contorting his freckled face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "First of all, that's disgusting," he grumbled crossly. "Second of all, why don't they know?"

Some do, but not everyone.

The second the thought slipped from her mind; Briar froze. Had she just reached out without even realizing it? It had felt so...effortless.

She sighed, Look, I'm sorry, but I'd like to keep it that way. They won't take to it very well...being how telepathy is so secretive and all. The tether coiled like a rope around Briar's hands. She could almost feel it like it was tangible. Could he feel it, too?

He gave her a dubious look, brows knitted together. If the boy could, he gave no visible indication.

"Sure," he said cautiously. "So you're Princess Briar? Of what? Invading people's minds? Bothering them in their sleep?"

"Injustice and inferiority, actually," she huffed, rubbing her arm, which had turned a light shade of pink.

Edmund's eyes darted to it, and he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, not entirely sorry. After all, you did hit me," he said.

"Only after you hit me!" she said crossly.

He looked genuinely offended. "You bloody touched my mouth! What was I supposed to do?"

"If it makes you feel any better, it was absolutely revolting," Briar retorted, wiping her hand on the skirt of her dress. "It's like touching a horse's--"

"Your Highness! A fight has broken out!" Mageen's voice cut what would've been an extremely unladylike comparison off.

The two bickering children exchanged a look. Argument forgotten, they both grabbed their weapons and sprinted uphill towards where the wolf's cry had come from. Now that her attention had been grabbed, Briar could distantly hear the clattering of sword-on-sword. A sharp, familiar blade sung in the air, and she instantly recognized it as Caspian's sword.

"That's got to be my brother," Edmund panted, "he's been starting fights all over the place since we left here last."

Great. Their brothers were fighting.

"Sounds like he's a pansy to me," she remarked breathlessly.

Briar came to a halt, sliding her crossbow over her shoulder while she chewed the inside of her cheek, pondering how she was going to get up. The boy effortlessly scaled a particularly tall boulder, whose stone edges were uneven and rough, slanted so that the incline made the feat look easy. He stood at the top; eyes fixed on the direction where the noise gathered.

"Peter," he mumbled irritably.

The king, her mind recollected the snippets of the story of the Battle of Beruna, where one High King Peter the Magnificent gathered the brave rebellion and faced Jadis, the White Witch...the same Jin whose blood tainted her own. A sour taste filled Briar's mouth.

After a moment, Edmund snapped out of his trance. "Need help?" he turned to crouch down, putting out his hand.

"Not from the likes of you, thanks."

Briar reached up, exposing the bandages that wound around her forearm where Miraz had struck her. The boy's gaze fastened on it for a moment which caused the skin on her arm to itch. Indignant, she positioned herself against the terrain and, digging her feet into the rock, hoisted herself up. About halfway, with her torso and one leg up and over, her injured arm burst with fresh pain from the strain. Briar grimaced, chewing the inside of her lip to keep from vocalizing. But she powered through.

Once she'd pulled herself the rest of the way up, likely out of sheer spite, she leaned over, breathing rapidly. Briar's arm throbbed. Each time, it sent a wave through her system that felt like it was slowly splitting the tissue up through her shoulder. She cradled it for a second, her gut burning from humiliation. She could feel Edmund staring down at her.

He probably thinks I'm weak.

When Briar finally glanced up, braced for the worst, she was completely surprised at what she saw. Edmund had crouched down next to her, sitting back on his heels.

"I can only imagine what you did to whoever dealt you that," he surmised. "They've got to have been rightly stupid to mess with you."

Her mind recollected the pressure and resistance of the arrow as it plunged into Uncle Miraz's flesh. She hoped it was infected by now, but given the medicinal luxury of royalty, it probably wasn't. Oh well.

Briar stared at him, her mouth twitching traitorously into a smile. The stretch of her facial muscles felt strange, she hadn't smiled in a long time.

She bit her lip, a sly expression hidden underneath a curtain of dark hair. "Can't imagine what that makes you."

Edmund huffed and rolled his eyes. Despite her previous decline for help, he stood up, extending a hand.

"Come on," was all he said. There was no tasteless, rude comment about her injury.

Briar narrowed her eyes curiously. She took his hand with her good one, letting him clasp it. With surprisingly gentility, he brought her to her feet and commented no more on the matter, taking off up the path.

Briar stared after him. King Edmund, the third of the royal Golden Age Kings and Queens of old, perplexed her, to say the least. First of all, he was far younger than she expected; he couldn't be any older than Briar. She was almost 15–or maybe she had turned 15 already, she didn't know what day it was anymore.

Second of all, and most interestingly, he didn't criticize her injury or call her weak. All boys his age would've at least said she was weak.

Curious.

Once she was able to see over the rocky hill, Briar saw Trumpkin and the girl at the fire running in the same direction they were. For a second, both children watched, still hand-in-hand, as they vanished into the inclining thickets. Neither of them wasted another moment, bolting after the company.

Upon gaining a clear line of sight, Briar bit back a groan. She'd never witnessed anything more pathetic in her life. It was an impressive feat, considering she'd witnessed her Uncle Miraz trying to dance at a masquerade.

Edmund ran a hand through his hair, which had become disheveled from the climb. "That's definitely not a fight."

"More like a petty squabble," she agreed.

"I don't think the exchange you two had was any better," Peepiceek whispered, appearing out of nowhere.

"Peep!" Briar's heart nearly jumped all the way back to Telmar. "You were there?"

"No, but your scuffling certainly wasn't quiet; I heard that slap from the camp. I'd have thoroughly whipped you," the mouse added, sizing up Edmund with narrowed, beady eyes, "but Princess Briar can defend herself."

So, he didn't hear Edmund slip about my ability, she breathed a sigh of relief.

Out of the corner of her eye, Edmund threw a glance over to her, making her suppose he'd come to the same conclusion. She squinted at him.

You got lucky this time, she transmitted. His only response was an eyeroll.

Meanwhile, Caspian and Peter still sparred, or at least Caspian was. He ducked and dodged each wild, heavy swipe of Peter's sword. The blond-haired boy let out a grunt of frustration each time Caspian avoided his swing, countering with a precise blow of his own blade. The blades sang as he blocked, meeting with a harsh clash. Peter countered, this time following his weapon with a fist that bashed the side of Caspian's face before swinging wide so that the Telmarine's sword was flung out of his hands.

Every bone in Briar's body felt the impact and each moment that followed. It spiked her blood hot with adrenaline. She started forward, only for a firm grip on her wrist to pull her back.

"Wait," said Edmund. It was neither an order nor a plea, and for some reason it confused her enough to momentarily forget her intentions.

Both of their younger siblings watched as Caspian dodged skillfully, somehow finessing Peter into nailing his sword into a tree behind him. It was a brilliant move; Briar's brother was a natural-born swordsman.

If only someone had taught me, she thought angrily. Though she might not have natural talent, she would have developed a reasonable skill with a blade if only given the chance.

Caspian's foot met Peter's torso, sending the taller boy back into the bushes. Taking the opportunity, he grasped his opponent's sword and gave it a hard yank. Peter fell into a momentary daze as the boy gave it another tug, but alas; the sword was wedged too deep.

Briar's gaze fell to the High King, and saw him groping for something in the dirt, quickly acquiring a hefty rock.

Foul play!

Before she could mull it over, her body instinctively reacted. Ripping out the blade belonging to her mother, she sent it slicing through the bright, woodland air, piercing the dirt inches from where his hand reached for the improvised weapon.

Peter stared at it for a heartbeat, gaze flickering up briefly to search for who had thrown it before he snatched the rock and rose to his feet. That was a dirty move–it was outside the rules of combat and revealed his spitefulness.

A high-pitched voice split the air.

"No, stop!" A young girl cried, bursting out from the cover of the undergrowth.

At her words, the rest of the scouting party advanced, along with several other Narnians Briar didn't recognize. She had to clamp her jaw shut to keep it from dropping in surprise at the masses gathering around them. Along with the wolves and Reepicheep, Glenstrom, Nikabrik, and an assortment of other creatures emerged from what could've been brilliant hiding places.

"That's enough," Briar ordered, advancing up the hillside into view.

Peter's eyes flickered around the woods, his offensive stance dwindling as he came to the realization that he was sorely outnumbered. Eventually, he turned back to Caspian, a look of understanding crossing his face.

"Prince Caspian?" he said suspiciously.

Wariness flared from Briar's brother. "Yes. And who are you?"

"Peter!"

A phantom of empty space followed her. Edmund had disappeared from next to her, and the sound of crackling leaves and scuffling eluded to the arrival of him, Trumpkin, and rest of the Pevensie children as they clamored up the hill adjacent to Briar. All of them had their weapons in hand, except for the youngest girl. A look of wild concern was written all over her pale features, her hands drooping by her sides as she watched helplessly to see what would become of the situation. She didn't look to be older than 13, with straight, dark blonde hair and a monarch orange dress.

There were four of them. A pair of older brother-and-sister, and a set of younger ones: Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy.

The Kings and Queens of Old. The royalty of Narnia legends and folklore, standing right in front of them. They were real.

Caspian also seemed to put the pieces together, glancing between the children and the sword he held in his hand. From where she stood, Briar could see him angle the sword to show the golden inscription upon the blade. She couldn't read the Old Narnian language, but she did know the prophecy of Aslan was etched into the metal.

When Aslan bares his teeth, winter shall meet its death. When he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again. The words floated into her mind; a revival of a memory Briar had completely forgotten existed. Lady Azur had once spoken those very words to her. For a brief moment, she was snuggled back into her bed in Lord Miraz's castle, the moon shining into her room as she had cried for her mother. Her nurse, stroking her hair, telling her the wonderful tales of Narnia. She had swept Briar away from the sorry life she lived to a land of magic and mystery...a land Briar was in right now.

"High King Peter." Caspian's disbelieving voice snapped Briar out of her dream.

Peter raised an eyebrow as he said, "I believe you called."

"Well yes, but...I thought you'd be older." Caspian noticed Briar standing behind the boy, meeting Briar's gaze with a look of puzzlement. She only shrugged, twisting her lips to the side.

Peter's lip curled while he simultaneously stepped back. "If you'd like, we can come back in a few years."

"Please don't," she said, making herself known. "Come back, I mean."

This time, the boy's head snapped in her direction. His crisp, blue eyes narrowed to slits, like pieces of a broken mirror reflecting a shattered sky as they scraped over her lithe figure. She had her arms crossed, lips pressed into a fine line. The frame of her face was hidden behind long, rich hair the pigment of coffee. She appeared to be Telmarine.

She was certainly pretty, that was for sure. But he wasn't about to say it out loud.

"No. No," Caspian said hurriedly, frowning past him to his sister. "That's all right. You're just...you're not exactly what I expected."

His vision trailed past Peter, sweeping over the rest of the Queens and King. They paused for a moment, hovering on the older girl curiously. Noticing the attention, she glanced at him with her soft, blue eyes, shifting closer to her siblings.

"Neither are you," Edmund interrupted, casting a sideways glimpse to Briar.

She stared at him coolly before gesturing to the little family. "What are you four even doing here? I thought you left."

The word seemed to spike Peter's mood. "And who exactly are you supposed to be?"

"I'll let you know when you've earned that information," she replied flatly, her tea-colored eyes gleaming sharply with disapproval.

"That's Princess Briar," Trufflehunter emerged. He clapped his paws together with a bright expression. "A common enemy unites even the oldest of foes."

"We have anxiously awaited your return, my liege," said Reepicheep. "Our hearts and swords are at your service."

"Not all of them," Briar muttered, earning the slightest grin from Edmund.

The Pevensie children turned in awe to see the mouse scamper forward and bow courteously before them. All of them seemed incredibly surprised, as though they'd never seen a talking mouse before. Briar understood the feeling.

The youngest, whom Briar had determined to be Lucy, leaned towards her sister, and whispered something to her. Reepicheep's ears twitched, likely overhearing the exchange with his excellent senses. Whatever she said, it caused him to jump forth, unsheathing his sword.

"Who said that?" he exclaimed.

Lucy's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. "S-sorry."

Reepicheep faltered, his muzzle shaping into an "o." He gave a little bow, clearing his throat. "Your Majesty, with the greatest respect, I do believe 'courageous,' 'courteous,' or 'chivalrous' might more befit a knight of Narnia."

During their exchange, Peter had crouched down to pluck Briar's dagger from the ground. Inspecting it, he smiled down at the mouse, giving it an experimental twirl. "Well, at least we know some of you can handle a blade," he said in a patronizingly cheerful tone, purposefully ignoring both Telmarines.

Both siblings glowered at him, except Caspian seemed more begrudging. Briar, on the other hand, squared him in the eye. Daring him to say anything else.

"Yes, indeed," chirped Reep. "And I have recently put it to good use, securing weapons for your army, sire."

His army? This time, Briar was unable to prevent her features from slackening in disbelief.

Peter looked thoroughly satisfied with the establishment of his authority. "Good, because we're going to need every sword we can get."

Caspian is the one who's supposed to lead us, we made an agreement. We're fighting against our country, for gods' sake!

Words of objection bubbled like boiling water in Briar's throat, forming a tingling lump in her throat that she forced herself to swallow. It wasn't her place to speak, not here, not now.

We have a plan!

And it was unraveling right before their eyes.

A/N: AHHHHHH!!!! We finally have the long-awaited meeting of our characters! This chapter was way longer then it was supposed to be, but it didn't feel right to split this up into two chapters. Sorry it took so long to post, I keep editing this to make sure its perfect.

What did you guys think? Weren't Briar and Edmund cute?! I had no idea how they would react to each other upon first meeting, but once I wrote it down I was in LOVE. I can't believe we're finally getting into the actual movie plot...this is going to be crazy!

Honestly I'm slowly getting overwhelmed, keeping track of the movie and OG subplots, but y'all are so encouraging, and Briar's journey is so important to me, so it's worth it! Thank you for all of the support! Your guys are going to love what's coming.