Edited: 10/23/2024

TW: Implications of child abuse [physical and verbal]

Briar had never fled more quickly--except for when she was being chased by her Uncle's soldiers.

What was I thinking? She'd just turned down an alliance with a whole pack of wolves, all because she wasn't friends with their Alpha. Briar wanted to throw herself at the wall. No one else trusted her in this Fortress, except maybe Caspian.

Does he, though? She halted in her tracks. He always insisted on doing everything himself. He'd sent her back to her room at the castle. He'd tried to step in during the meeting. He'd talked to the Council and convinced them to let her go, and he'd still wanted to go with her. Why?

Because he's afraid you'll say something stupid again. He did tell you to behave, didn't he? Briar's stomach rolled with nausea. Maybe Caspian didn't really trust her.

I did nothing wrong, she told herself. Her head ducked behind her ombre hair as she swiftly descended into the Fortress. The voices echoed down the corridor like arrows. Briar slowed her pace as her ears tried to catch words. What were they talking about? Were they talking about her?

It doesn't matter.

It did matter, but Briar kept walking.

Eventually, she wandered down a tunnel that opened up into a large chamber. Hay bales painted with red and blue targets were being carted out of the room by a group of fauns. Between the storage units of standard crossbows, swords, shields, and bows, Briar determined that she'd found the training room.

Her steps quickened with excitement. Practice would surely ease her mind. Brushing past traversing soldiers, Briar approached the entrance.

Except, there, talking to a faun, was Peter.

In a panic, Briar flattened herself against the wall. As far as she could tell, no one had seen her.

"Thank you for moving the equipment outdoors. I believe the courtyard will be an effective new storage room. It should fit everything plus the wagons. Then we'll have more space for training here," Peter was saying.

Briar inhaled sharply. He was having the fortress reorganized. It was a good idea, but she would never tell him that. His ego didn't need it.

"Of course, Your Majesty. Assuming the wagon raid is successful, and Princess Briar was telling the truth."

"Speaking of, what do you know about these Telmarine royals, exactly?"

"Well, from what I know, Prince Caspian was found by Nikabrik and Trumpkin near the Telmarine border three days ago. Nikabrik would've gutted the boy right then and there if it weren't for Truffle-hunter. They came to our camp from a Telmarine ambush, according to Reepicheep. He stopped the Telmarines before they could kill our Truffle-hunter. What I can tell you for certain is that the boy Caspian saved the badger when he very well could've left him behind."

"And Briar?"

Briar sucked in her breath.

"I can't say much for certain. Everything is all rumors, really. Peepiceek brought her in yesterday, and, from what I've heard, she was worse for wear. Some say she was injured; they saw stains of blood on her clothes."

"Blood?"

"That's right, but some say it wasn't her own. They say it was even on her blade."

Briar's hand self-consciously wrapped around her bandaged forearm. That was my blood, her insides screamed. Miraz struck me with my own weapon.

"How'd she get here?" Peter asked.

"No one knows. She might've fought her way down; her quiver was missing several bolts. She mysteriously showed up right in front of our camp, saying their Uncle, Lord Miraz, tried to kill them. Maybe the Telmarines staged everything so she could infiltrate and spy on us. It all lines up a little too nicely, I think."

"Alright, you've made your point."

Whoever Peter was talking to grunted loudly. "I don't like mysteries. That girl is trouble if I ever saw it," they sniffed.

"That we can agree on."

The conversation continued, but the buzzing drowned out their voices. Briar's mind had gone still, the storm silenced. Her body stood, rigid, hovering in the entrance. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes flashing back and forth as though the trodden earth contained the answers.

Before her mind could conjure any feeling, Briar fled Aslan's How.

Instinct took over as she disappeared into the field. She ran through the waves, disappearing into its ivory sea. The grass whipped against her skin. Each slash of the blade felt less and less like grass, stinging her skin. The fields did not turn into a warm, playful ocean it appeared to be. No, it was cruel and wicked. Each touch became different. It was harder, angrier. The world blurred before her eyes, its colors fading, and her footsteps quickened. What was once a retreat turned into a full-bodied sprint, a rabbit running from the talons of an eagle.

A chase.

Briar tore through the blur, unaware of her surroundings, unaware of anything except suffocating urge to escape. She had to go. It was coming. He was coming. Even though she didn't look back, even though she didn't see it chasing her, even if she couldn't hear it, she still knew it was coming. It was always after her, the monster that never stopped hunting.

Her feet caught on the path, and she tumbled down the hill, crashing against a rock–no, stone–bricks. Her body was slammed against the wall. She heard a loud crack, followed by a spreading numbness in the back of her head. Fingers sank into the soft flesh of her arms, stabbing through her ballgown, sprouting dampness that soaked through her sleeves. Weight pressed her back, daring her to move, daring her to breathe.

When her eyes opened, the world turned black, then gray, and all at once, she was no longer in Narnia. She hadn't been for a long time. No, no, no.

"Stupid girl!" A hand fell on her cheek. "You are meant to keep your mouth shut and do as you're told. Now tell me, who do you belong to?"

Her face blared with pain. The black demon hovered, hot and rancid, inches from her eyes. Briar's memories swelled, angry and pulsing in her head. She remembered, remembered the pain.

The demon let out a roar. "I said, who do you belong to?"

It's not real. It's not real. Every part of her shook uncontrollably as she doubled over, breathing heavily with her eyes screwed shut.

"You," a little voice whispered in unison with Briar.

She opened her eyes and, just like that, the demon was gone. Fresh air flooded her senses, drowning out the stale salt, the stone, the rancid perfume she knew all too well. Her heart raced with a heated burn that drove head wild. Breathing, Briar's fists coiled around the decomposing leaves.

It wasn't real. I'm still in Narnia.

The fingers no longer sank through her flesh, only the poking of twigs and leaves. She forced herself to study her surroundings. It always helped to pull her out of the unexpected ambush. It was both easy and impossible to forget the monster still hunted her; the coordinated attacks always came when Briar wasn't ready.

To the girl's surprise, she was in a shallow ravine of a forest. Surrounding her were trees and tall, arching stones. Perhaps a river had once eroded the earth away, leaving a maze of stones for travelers to navigate. The light had somewhat begun to fade, giving gradient to the coming nightfall. The air had taken on a hazy gray. Unlike in Telmar, the colors of her surroundings still beamed.

A dull ache disrupted her thoughts. Briar reached to the back of her head, expecting to feel blood. Instead, there was only soft, dry hair. More proof. It wasn't real.

The beating of her heart begged to differ.

Sighing, Briar collected her sore self together. She brushed the leaves and dirt from her dress. As she did so, she noticed her belt was missing something.

The scroll. It was gone.

"No, no, no." Briar dropped to the ground–she ignored the ache in her knees–and sifted through the undergrowth. The brown casing looked so much like the fallen leaves and dark soil, and Briar didn't know how long she'd tumbled for before she'd come to a stop. The scroll could be anywhere. I have to find it. I can't lose it.

Every scrape of her hands against the earth felt more and more hollow. There was nothing, only leaves. She began to struggle for breath, crawling across the ground, searching. It had to be here. It has to be here. It has to. This is the only knowledge I have of magic.

"I know I'm a king and all, but you don't have to get on your knees."

Briar jolted upright. She withdrew her knife, stumbling to her feet. Breathing heavily, she followed the origin of the voice to see a figure coming. When the figure emerged, she cursed. Approaching from the foliage, one eyebrow raised, was Edmund.

Briar rolled her eyes at his expression. "Shove off." She sheathed her knife again, kneeling down again.

Boys, she thought sourly.

Edmund frowned while she sifted through the undergrowth. "What are you doing?"

"None of your business," she snapped, shoving a pile of twigs so hard that they went scattering across the rocky ground. Her frustrated gesture miraculously revealed the scroll. It was wedged between two fallen branches, perfectly intact in its case.

Briar let out a sigh of relief, seating herself on one of the rocks. She drew a finger down the cool, patterned fabric. Her eyes memorized each groove as though it would keep it from straying again. The texture along her palm was soothing. It dulled her energy that begged for release.

"What's so special about it, anyway?" Edmund asked, making his way towards her.

"Again, none of your business," she added.

"Well, I'm already keeping one secret for you. I could handle another." The boy straightened his shoulders indignantly when she scoffed. "You know, the whole telepathy thing? I've not told anyone just like you asked."

When Briar glanced up, the boy lingered determinedly. There was an eager curiosity sparkling in his eyes, as though he wanted to ask something. But he only stood there, lips tightly pressed together.

Well, he already knows a lot. Briar's logical side reasoned. If he were going to give me away, he would've already.

Reluctantly, she scooted over. "Sit."

Edmund wordlessly sat down. He watched as she removed the scroll from its case. She unraveled it carefully, her eyes not straying from the way he patiently sat.

He was a puzzle. One moment, spitfire, and the next moment, a shadow; he was very much unlike his brother–or the other princes Briar had met.

Like at the social.

She began to offer it, only to suddenly hesitate when he outstretched his hands. The pale, blue haze swirled along the long page, teasing her with a vibrant glow that looked like unreadable letters. The boy stared at her, confused. Briar's mind scrambled to form words, but it abruptly stopped when she saw two words boldened under telepathy.

White Witch. Jadis was listed as a past user of telepathy. An invisible corset tightened around her chest. Sourness flooded the back of her mouth. What if Edmund put together the similarities? Did he know that the Telmarine royal family was part Jin? What if he asked if Briar was related to Jadis? What was she supposed to say?

This is a mistake. He can't read it.

"Briar?"

"Hmm?" Briar snapped back into focus. She blinked rapidly so as to clear the fog in her head and looked up.

"What're you thinking?" asked Edmund.

A dumb question. Briar scowled and tossed her hair out of her face to peer at the boy. "I'm thinking you must be supposing I'm some great Telmarine spy, too?" Her voice dripped with feigned sarcasm. She rolled the scroll back up and put it back into its case. To her surprise, Edmund's next comment had nothing to do with changing her mind.

"Is that what they're saying?"

Briar sighed. Rolling up her sleeve, she exposed her bandaged arm. "Your brother and the rest this country seem convinced. There are rumors going around that I'm pretending to be some kind of victim to infiltrate this place."

"But you aren't," Edmund objected. "I haven't been here for more than a day, and from what I've heard you haven't either. You came here, same as Caspian, right?"

Briar nodded. "We left together."

"So...why d'you suppose they think that?"

"I don't know."

The two children stared at each other at a stalemate. Briar's chest began to tingle and the muscles in her arms began to beg for freedom. Restlessly, she turned away, glaring at the forest as if it were to blame.

"They think I claimed to be magic just for attention," she mumbled at last.

"Oh, I mean, well, you are magic, though," Edmund mused. He leaned back, idle in his thoughts. "They'll be eating their words tonight, when we get those supplies."

The statement drew the Telmarine girl's attention. Their eyes met, and Edmund offered her a reassuring smile. Briar found herself smiling back. The two children sat in the silence, listening to trees rustle as they whispered gossip along the wind. The light was steadily growing dimmer. Briar squinted up at the sky. Clouds had begun to spread to form a blanket across the horizon. There would be no moonlight tonight, giving the Narnians full advantage of the darkness for the raid.

Edmund was right. Tonight, the Narnians would find out Briar was not a spy, that she was not lying about her magic. They'll see. I'm on their side.

Suddenly, Edmund stood. He had an unreadable expression written against the splash of freckles on his face. "I've an idea," he announced. "Let's have another trade of information: since I know one of your secrets, I'll let you in on one of mine. I'll start--a show of good faith, if you will."

Briar narrowed her eyes. "What would that be, exactly?"

"Follow me."

In that moment, the awkwardness of their previous conversation was forgotten. Briar tucked the scroll back in its place along her belt and followed him down a path through the small ravine. The rocks slowly grew taller, blocking the view of the trees so that only their leaves peeked down at them. The path snaked between the dark boulders, leading the two up an incline. After a few moments of silence, they reached a small clearing in the ravine. In the center, there was a steep hill, laden with reasonably sized stones. One of them was smooth and flat, leaning out from the top of the hill like a platform.

Edmund threw his shield over his shoulder and scaled the mound. Briar pinned her skirt up to her belt and followed. It took her considerably longer to make her way up. By the time she reached the top, Edmund a statue, standing at the edge of the ridge. As she joined him, her mind sung with a strange pleasure. The wind was stronger at the top of the ravine, blowing by like a galloping horse. She smiled, accepting the way it caressed her face and swept her hair up off her shoulders. The wind left her heart pounding in her chest. It went above the trees, no longer trapped in the confining labyrinth beneath. It was free to glide across the sky without a single expectation to live up to.

For the first time, the world was louder than her mind.

"What is this place?" Briar asked, shivering. "It's lovely."

A moment passed before Edmund spoke. "This is where I first met Aslan."

"Oh." Briar didn't quite know what to say. She quickly noticed that Edmund's manner had shifted. He no longer carried himself in a featherlight way, but instead he looked stiff. Almost unwilling.

Considering this had been where he met Aslan, Briar figured he might've been more euphoric. After all, Aslan was the Great Lion Himself, and greatly renowned about the Narnians. It would be an honor, and momentous occasion to encounter the Great Lion, the forebearer of Narnia...and the last wielder of ancient magic. It was a moment to be anticipated and never forgotten.

So why did Edmund look like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole?

The boy scuffed a toe in the dirt. "I stood right here, and I told Him what I did. You know. Aslan could've done any number of things, and He should've, but instead He forgave me. But you are right," his bitter, resentful voice grew more wistful, "it is a lovely place."

His expression was distant, and Briar knew his mind was long gone. He was far away, sunken deep into memories. The wind teased his hair, sweeping past him, tempting him to the sky, but the boy only stood still, rooted to the ground. Dwelling in his mystification.

"What was He like?" Briar tried. Edmund stirred, which gave her courage. "Aslan, I mean. What was He like?" She could see his mind land atop the ravine once again, bringing him to the present moment. She approached and paused by the ridge.

Edmund braced himself as the sky breathed against them. Leaves swirled past the air, ruffling Briar's hair, and the two listened to the forest shutter. The girl's whole body hummed in a way that put her mind at peace.

"The thing about meeting Him–it was different. Lucy, she found him, and Aslan...He found me. I don't know, He didn't really seem all that surprised when I told him what I did. It was like He... I don't know..."

"He already knew you, and knew what drove you to do it," Briar finished. The image of the white lion appeared in her mind and its intelligent, clear blue eyes. She knew the feeling he was talking about. The lion had understood her, too.

Edmund glanced at her in surprise. "Right, exactly."

When their eyes met and lingered for a heartbeat, he cleared his throat. "I was a traitor. All for the White Witch, because I thought–" he paused, his hand gripping the handle of his sword tightly. An uncomfortable heartbeat of silence passed before he let out a sigh. "But she planned to kill me either way, so it doesn't really matter."

Briar's mouth fell open. "She was planning to kill you?" she echoed. The beautiful hum of the forest immediately dissipated.

"Yeah. She would have if it weren't for Aslan." Edmund let out a long sigh, looking out at the shuttering sea of trees. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Given his sullen demeanor, Briar remained quiet. If there was anything she understood, it was the desire for reclusion. The need to look ahead and never back. It wasn't about privacy, it was about survival. And she knew, firsthand, how much one depended on it. Besides, Edmund hadn't pressed about Briar wanting to keep the details of her abilities a secret; Briar wouldn't persist either.

"Wait," Edmund suddenly regarded her question, "you sound like you've never heard the legend."

"O-of course I have," Briar defended quickly. "I guess I'd just forgotten." For some reason, heat flushed to her cheeks. She'd heard the tale a thousand times. Lady Azur had faithfully spoken of her heritage and Narnia's all throughout her childhood. Briar was educated. She knew of the war.

So why have I not heard this part?

"So," Edmund directed his gaze in her direction, "I've showed you my secret: this place."

"And?"

"I dunno. I thought maybe you'd be more willing to let me help with your dilemma if you knew something about me, too. After all, you're the one who came to me for help," he added slyly.

It appeared he was over self-reflecting.

Briar sighed, although she did eventually nod. She remained motionless as he approached from her peripheral, staring down at the winding crevices of the maze beneath them.

After a beat, she spoke. "Why would you want to help me?"

Edmund "I know how hard it is to earn their trust. The Narnians' trust, I mean." His expression darkened, and his eyes darted away. "You know...from experience."

Something wound up inside Briar loosened. He understands. Reluctantly, she retrieved the case from her side and held it up. "This scroll is enchanted, but I can't read most of it."

"Enchanted?" Edmund's eyebrows shot up into the air. "May I see? Maybe there's a way to reverse it."

I hadn't thought of that. Perhaps it was a good idea to have help... or a second pair of eyes, at the very least.

Briar's curiosity got the best of her. "You cannot tell anyone about this," she warned as she opened the case.

"I won't." Edmund's eyes narrowed a bit, curiously, as he locked eyes with her. "You can trust me."

She handed it over. He traced his finger on the words of conditional preservation. The sound of forest ambience and whistling wind picked away at her brain. She scanned Edmund's expression, observing every freckle against his pale features, every groove, every twitch of his eyebrows, anticipating his reaction.

"This scroll has to be ancient," he mused at last. "What does this have to do with the accusations made about you?"

Oh. Briar had to clamp her jaw shut to keep it from falling down. That dilemma. He'd meant to help with the problems she faced as an outsider...not the fact that Briar couldn't read the scroll. It seemed very plain now. Gods, I didn't have to show it to him.

And yet, it was oddly relieving to have told someone. Maybe it was a good thing she had misunderstood. Luckily for Briar, the scroll had enormous relevance to the situation Edmund referred to.

"Well," Briar said, scooting closer, "this is supposed to help me understand the scope of my magic, but obviously I can't read it. I thought maybe if I knew what I was capable of, I could show everyone that my magic is useful, and that I'm on their side."

"Alright," the boy ran a hand through his rich, brown hair. Then, he changed the subject. "Where did it come from?"

Briar threw him an unimpressed look as he simultaneously handed the parchment back. "Do all 25-year-olds ask this many questions?"

"At least I don't make assumptions, like Peter."

"Fair point." Briar rolled her eyes. "My brother's professor gave it to me before I came here."

"And where d'you reckon he got it from?"

Briar opened her mouth to speak but quickly pursed her lips together. That she did not have an answer to. In fact, she hadn't even thought about it.

"I-I don't know."

The two stared at each other, stumped. Gears began to turn in Briar's mind that had been asleep. Professor Cornelius had given it to her so fast. She'd just taken it and escaped the castle. The thought of the scroll's origin hadn't even crossed her mind. She stared at the parchment in her hand. Why do you have to be such a mystery?

When she glanced up, Edmund's attention had wandered over the cliff. Briar's confusion swiveled at the dent between his brows. His stance shifted as he peered over the ridge, eyes scanning the forest.

"What is it?" she inquired. "Ed--"

All of the sudden, the boy's eyes flashed. "Get down!"

The two dropped to the ground in unison, huddling against one of the slanted rocks jutting out near the decline of the ravine's top. Dirt and gravel rubbed against Briar's arms as she dug her feet into the ground. Edmund put a finger to his lips, gesturing with his eyes to the bottom of the cliff. It was where he'd been looking.

Briar closed her eyes and immediately concentrated. Breathing deeply, she coiled her mind around them, interweaving the warm threads together into a hard, fast rope. She tested it by giving it a mental nudge. Naturally, the connection was stable. Satisfied, she opened her eyes.

What is it? Briar transmitted.

Edmund's eyes widened briefly before he offered her a nod. He tentatively applied pressure to the connection, sending a warm, echoing signal down the tether. I thought I heard movement below, he explained.

Briar arched her head to try and get a better look, but fear kept her pressed down towards the earth. Whatever it was, she didn't hear it. She held her injured arm against her chest, watching as Edmund shifted towards the way they'd climbed up.

Where are you going?

To get a better look. Come on. Clearly, he wasn't going to be persuaded otherwise. Briar lifted her skirt carefully and followed him. She winced when grass softly hissed beneath their shoes. With her good hand, she unsheathed her mother's dagger; in the other, she clutched the scroll.

They approached the terrain soundlessly, sliding down the steepest part and carefully navigating the foliage until they reached the bottom. With each step, Briar's heart beat louder. It throbbed in her chest and climbed up into her ears, buzzing. She slid down the last boulder, landing softly next to Edmund. It was then that she heard it. Quiet, hushed tones, creeping through the darkening forest.

Voices.

A/N: yayy, i'm actually going to get to bed on time! i usually have been working on benevolence super late at night [90% of my writing is done in bed, fun fact]. thank you guys so much for the love the past few weeks. this chapter literally has been slowly killing me...I've written and rewritten it so many times. I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out though, all things considered. but i'll probably continue editing it...

Anyway, I expect we are at the halfway point of Benevolence, give or take a few chapters. Just thought I'd put that out there. :)

EDITING NOTE: I incorporated something important into the encounter with Zhade...you may want to go back and look for it. Hint: it involves the scroll.