CHAPTER NINE:
FAMILY LINES

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ROSALIE HANNIGAN NEVER HAD to wonder what death would feel like. She was one of the few happier children to grow up in Finchley — a fortunate feat, considering the lingering threat of war that hung over her head like a noose for the better part of her childhood. Sure, she suffered at the hands of neglectful parents and a cruel sibling, but never did she think 'death would be better than this.' Accidentally travelling to another world where she was trialled, tested and therefore stabbed wasn't part of the plan.

Now, Rosalie knew what waited on the other side of life.

Death looked like her mother.

No, not Ellen. Her mother. The woman whose features she shared. The DNA she carried in every drop of blood. The stranger, the sister of Alysanne's mother. Rosalie didn't know what she looked like. Her brain merely chose the best parts of herself and strung them together to form some decrepit semblance of comfort. Her mother was smiling when she laid eyes on Rosalie. She looked so happy for a woman who'd already come in contact with Death. Rosalie wondered if the agony would ever become peace.

"My beautiful girl," she whispered, smoothing a red strand of hair back from Rosalie's face. Her hair was the same colour. It shone like molten lava, a light to guide her through the dark. "Aithne."

The name struck a chord of familiarity in Rosalie, but her mind couldn't quite comprehend it. She winced, catching a brief glimpse of her mother's concerned frown before her eyes squeezed shut. "I know you."

"I should hope so," the older woman's expression had dropped into sorrow by the time the pain faded enough for Rosalie to look around. "Oh, I've missed you so much. I'm so sorry I had to leave you behind. I promise you I had no choice."

This couldn't be real. Beneath the sweet tone of her mother's voice, Rosalie could hear someone crying. Several others called her name, trying and failing to rouse her. Abruptly, the pain in her abdomen flickered out like a blown candle, but no peace followed.

"You've got to go," her mother smiled softly. "Your friends are waiting for you."

"Mother, wait." In a moment of panic, Rosalie clutched her fingers to hers. Her touch was hot. Like fire. A flame flickered on her palm but it didn't burn Rosalie's skin. Her face slackened. "Alysanne. Does that name remind you of anything?"

Her mother paused. One thinly plucked eyebrow was raised. "How do you know that name?"

"My... cousin," Rosalie replied after a beat of silence. Their words had started to echo. She could see bright white light on the back of her eyelids with each blink now. She had a few precious seconds left. "On your side. Alysanne."

"Of course." All of a sudden, she seemed utterly exhausted. Aged well beyond her youthful appearance. "Even in Death, Jadis can never let me go."

Rosalie's brows furrowed. "What?"

"I'm Alysanne," her mother — Alysanne the First? — said, placing a hand over her chest where her heart was. "Time's up, my darling. You're pulling away already, I can feel it. I love you, Aithne. Remember that."

Rosalie opened her eyes and the world burned. Somehow, in the time she'd spent unconscious, she was moved from the cold cobblestone floor of a castle tower to the rich green fields outside Aslan's How. She had a small crowd around her, one that was significantly smaller than the battalion they had left with. Through her confusion and her grief, she could just make out... Lucy? The younger girl was leaning over her, hazel eyes swimming with concern. Next to her was Edmund. He had a tight grip on Rosalie's hand, their fingers laced together like branches. When he saw her looking back at him, his frown faded into a soft, relieved smile. He squeezed her hand.

"Thank Aslan," she heard him whisper before Lucy threw her arms around Rosalie, her wild hair blocking Edmund from view.

"I'm so glad that worked," Lucy exclaimed.

"What worked?" she asked, slowly pushing her body up with her free hand.

Subconsciously, she braced herself, preparing for the sting of pain on her abdomen. She was both shocked and confused when she felt nothing. The only evidence anything had happened was the tear in Edmund's shirt and the blood that stuck it to her body.

"Alysanne," she gasped, the name ringing like a bell in her brain. "Did you find her? She..."

Edmund's expression was grim. Rosalie tried not to feel disappointed when he shook his head. "She was long gone by the time I found you."

At the last second, Rosalie decided not to share what Alysanne had called her. She feared the response she'd get, especially from Peter, who seemed annoyed and impatient as he hovered at Edmund's back — this, Rosalie suspected, had nothing to do with her for once; instead, his anger was directed at Caspian, who glared right back every time Peter glanced his way. If it wasn't for her injury, she was sure both boys would've stormed off the second they reached the How.

No, Rosalie would wait until it was just her and Edmund. Maybe she could even tell him about the dream she'd had.

"We should get you inside," Susan decided, ignoring Edmund's scowl as she nudged him aside. "Lucy, run ahead and find Rosalie a change of clothes."

"I've got it," Edmund stopped his sister before she could get far.

Lucy frowned. "Alright..."

Nonetheless, she didn't complain, hovering on Rosalie's other side in case she suddenly passed out. Rosalie appreciated it, but she was... fine. It was like she'd never been stabbed in the first place. Her main focus was escaping the prying eyes. While she wasn't in pain, she was tired.

"How on Earth did you cure me?" she asked the sisters as they reached the entrance, the crowd parting around them like Moses and the red sea. It was dark inside the How, a stark change from the bright sunlight. "I thought for sure..."

Rosalie faltered. She thought for sure she would die.

Lucy beamed, reaching for the leather satchel that hung from her belt. "I have a secret weapon."

Rosalie blinked at her. "That's a jar, Luce."

"It's my cordial," the younger girl corrected. "Just one drop is enough to save someone's life!"

Rosalie studied it with interest. She'd never heard of such a thing. Just another Narnian oddity, then. "But that's impossible."

Lucy's eyes gleamed obstinately. "It saved Edmund's life when he was stabbed."

"Edmund was stabbed!?"

From behind them, Rosalie heard slow footsteps suddenly pick up speed. "Thanks for that, Luce," Edmund grumbled as he rounded the corner. Worriedly, Rosalie pulled away from Susan and Lucy, closing the distance between herself and Edmund as she scanned him for injuries. There wasn't even a drop of blood on his tunic. But Lucy said...? "I'm fine, Rosie. It happened a long time ago."

"Oh."

Lucy smirked. "Maybe Edmund will show you the scar."

The tips of Rosalie's ears burned bright red.

"Enough of that, Lucy," Edmund snapped, though he too was blushing like a mad-man. "I'll take over from here, I think, sisters."

"Can't trust we won't embarrass you, Edmund?" Susan giggled.

Still, she and Lucy didn't protest, disappearing down the corridor Edmund had just ventured from. Edmund watched them leave with a shake of his head. His smile was bashful when he turned back to Rosalie.

"Sorry about them."

"Don't be," she nudged his arm, taking the lead back to her own room. "I should be used to them by now."

Edmund made a vague humming noise in response. He seemed desperate to change the subject. Barely catching Rosalie's gaze as they stopped outside her door, he held out a navy blue tunic Rosalie recognised as the one he'd first worn in Narnia. The shirt had been washed since he wore it last, but as Rosalie's face heated and she reached out to take it from him, she swore she smelled a hint of him on the material. A soft warmth, a familiar comfort.

She hoped he didn't notice and think she was weird.

Edmund was grinning, which wasn't a good sign. "Are we sharing clothes now?" she asked, tucking the tunic under her arm.

He shrugged. "You look better in my shirts than I do."

"Edmund Pevensie, don't let your sisters hear you," Rosalie spluttered. He laughed, the sharp line of his jaw jutting against his skin as his head threw back. "They'll think you're flirting with me."

"Maybe I am," he said then, and Rosalie forgot how to breathe. Fortunately, she was saved from responding when Edmund's expression suddenly sobered. His eyes were shadowed as they lingered on the dried blood on his old tunic. Rosalie had a sinking feeling the stain wouldn't come out, but she wanted to try and wash it later anyways. "I'm glad you're okay. You really scared me."

"I'm sorry," she murmured, not that she thought she was to blame for it. It wasn't like she asked Alysanne to stab her. Rosalie certainly could've gone without the maiming during her Narnian adventures. "Alysanne. I didn't think she'd do that to me."

The world stopped turning as Alysanne's eyes blazed an icy shade of white, like snow. Her blurry figure leaned down to whisper in Rosalie's ear, "For my mother, cousin."

What kind of messed-up family line did she have if her cousin wanted to harm her so much? What did her mother's sister — if her dream was correct, there was no other option — have against Rosalie that she'd find joy in her death?

Once again, Rosalie had too many questions and no way to get answers. Aslan only knew where Alysanne was now. Probably back with her mother, or even Miraz. Rosalie wouldn't put it past her to align herself with the Telmarines out of pure spite. She knew the Narnians' plans as well as they did. She knew their fighting strategies, Rosalie's included. At this point, Alysanne was capable of ruining them.

Is that what this Jadis wanted?

"Do you want to come inside?" Rosalie asked Edmund. His jaw dropped. He glanced around the empty corridor like he was afraid the walls had eyes. Rosalie smothered a gasp. Narnia and England were so very different. It was hard sometimes, determining the difference in customs with each place. What was inappropriate at home might've been accepted in Narnia, and vice versa. It was enough to give her whip-lash. She wondered how the Pevensies had coped, being forced back to Finchley after so many years in Narnia the first time. "I just meant — Alysanne said something, when she stabbed me. And I don't want anyone else to know but you."

Edmund still seemed uneasy; this time, however, for an entirely different reason. Jaw clenched, he followed her inside, carefully closing the door behind them. When he turned around, Rosalie was sitting on the edge of her bed, his tunic rested on her lap. In the dim light of the lamp she'd lit, she looked wrecked. Her hair was a frizzy mess that burned bright in the candlelight, but her face was pale and gaunt.

She looked beautiful to him.

"What did Alysanne say?" he prompted when she remained quiet, staring down at her fingers as they played with the neck of his tunic. "Rosie?"

Her gaze was sharp when it fixed on him. "You can't tell anyone."

Edmund sighed. "You know I won't." He lowered himself down beside her, making sure to leave a good few inches between them. Still, the proximity seemed to comfort her. Whatever fears her mind had conjured were gone.

Her voice was soft as she spoke. "She called me 'cousin.'"

Edmund's brows furrowed. "... What?"

"'For my mother, cousin,'" she quoted the words from memory. Edmund shifted uncomfortably. "That's what she said before she..."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They were quiet for a while. Edmund couldn't wrap his head around it, but he had a horrible feeling he knew who Alysanne had meant. It seemed like a cruel joke. Yet, the facts were glaringly obvious. Really, he should've seen it sooner.

"Rosie," He gently pried her grip off his shirt, intertwining their fingers again. They found each other from muscle memory, filling Rosalie with a warmth that was different to the blazing flame in her palm. He trusted her without a doubt, even then. "Did Alysanne say anything else? A name, maybe?"

She shook her head. "No, but..."

"But?" She didn't answer. "Rosie, how can I help you if you don't tell me things?"

"It doesn't make any sense," she blurted, feeling the defeat creep in. "While I was unconscious, I had this dream. It's hard to explain, but it was so real. She... my mum was there — Not Ellen, but who I think might've been my mum here."

"Go on," Edmund squeezed her hand.

Rosalie detected no scepticism in his tone, but she couldn't be sure he believed her. "She told me that Alysanne's mum was her sister. That Alysanne was named after her. She called her sister Jadis."

Edmund wrenched free from her so harshly that Rosalie feared for a second that she'd somehow burned him. She gasped, standing as he did, but Edmund couldn't bear to be near her. Rosalie rushed after him, reaching the door just before he did.

"I'm sorry," she cried out, panicking when Edmund's only response was a rough, shallow breath. He couldn't seem to get enough air in. "I didn't mean to upset you!"

"You didn't." Just like that, the panic had left him. He was shaking when she reached for him, but he didn't protest her taking his hand and guiding him back to the bed. He sat with his head in his hands, her fingers rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Breathe, she urged, but it wasn't that simple.

Jadis.

She would never stop haunting him.

"You know this Jad—?"

"Please don't," he said before she could finish.

Rosalie let out a breath. "Okay, then. What am I missing?" When Edmund looked at her, she saw the whole world resting on the waterline of his eyes, balanced on an edge only she could push it off. "Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me."

And so he did.

He told her everything.