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WALKING IN THE WIND
xx. EVERYTHING IS CHANGING

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  THE WAR WAS OVER, but the days only became busier. Even with the Pevensies and Aslan home to oversee Narnia's restoration, with the predicament of the overwhelming numbers of Telmarines remaining and the Narnians still coming out of hiding, it would take time, determination, and far too much patience before the kingdom saw real change.

  Narnia's leaders dispersed in the days that came, managing affairs that aligned with their strengths. Odette joined Peter in sorting economic disputes while Edmund reviewed the kingdom's legislation from the past few decades. Lucy and Aslan supervised the kingdom's clean-up. Meanwhile, Susan and Caspian managed all socioeconomic affairs regarding Telmar's people. There was much to decide regarding whether the Telmarines wanted to stay in Narnia or not. To let them stay, to force them out, to determine who had betrayed and who was still a threat to Narnia.

  The Pevensies, Caspian, and Odette melted into their places as if they'd never stepped away from their thrones. To them, there was plenty to do. To Hope, there was too much to do.

  There was so much chatter about peace treaties and laws, trade and reversals of Narnian embargo, the economy, immigration, finances, restoration, rehabilitation. It was making Hope's head spin! How did the others handle so much responsibility all the time? She couldn't even remember her own name some days, and now she was expected to help rebuild a kingdom from scratch?

  The castle was too suffocating, so Hope sought the open skies and the corners of Narnia only commoners infested. Corners no noble ever set foot in, really—not unless there was a special occasion.

  On that warm morning, Hope followed the cobblestone path into the market square. The merchant's district just outside the castle was alive as Narnians and, surprisingly, some Telmarines joined forces to help with the reconstruction. It made slipping by unnoticed perfectly easy. The constant thump, thump, thumps of hammers and shouts across the paths were enough to drown out Hope's thoughts altogether.

  Telmar reminded her so much of Wysteria. The architecture, the peoples' mannerisms, the music—all of it was so Wysterian. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, but she was anyway. It wasn't home, but it was sort of like the home Hope always longed to see. Telmar under the Pevensies' rule was just... Wysteria. Wysteria if it just had a little more... light, at least.

  It made her that much more curious to see what the people were like now. If she was going to live among Narnia's rulers, she wanted to learn who exactly they would be leading.

  However, Hope didn't last longer than a few minutes before it became extremely apparent that she was no longer a commoner.

  "Your Majesty!" a faun squeaked. She dropped her basket of apples to bow. This caused those around her to ripple similarly, curtseying and bowing alike.

  Hope blinked a few times. She knew she stuck out, with her wrinkle-free cream gown and her hair neatly tied up. However she appeared, the commoners were her opposite. Hope suddenly realized that these were not her people anymore, were they? They no longer saw her as a handmaid. In fact, these people had never known her as a measly handmaid. In this lifetime, to them, she was the Just King's wife.

  Before, she couldn't fully comprehend why everyone hated her. Now that she'd won them over, she couldn't understand why they respected her either. Everything about her own existence made little sense to her—and no one else.

  Hope curtseyed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... intrude. I was just... I was, um..."

  But how exactly was she supposed to articulate that she still didn't feel like she had a place among the Pevensies, Caspian, and Odette? Why would she tell these people that? It wouldn't give them much faith in her ability to govern them, surely, so why was she here in the first place? Was curiosity really the entire answer?

  No, it wasn't. Because as much as she should be with the others, helping put Narnia back together, she didn't know how. They all had their strengths as rulers. What strength did she have?

  I don't know, the thought kept whispering against Hope's skull. I don't really know where I belong anymore.

  Because as much as she loved Narnia, she was not a Narnian. She was Wysterian, and as much as Telmar resembled Wysteria, this was not home. And even though she was married to the throne, she did not view herself as someone deserving to sit anywhere near it, even if everyone else did. She had no family, no home, no prospects, and certainly no clue what to do with herself.

  "Your Majesty, what are you apologizing for?" asked a young centaur. His mother gave him a look for speaking out of turn. For a moment, Hope was reminded of Windmane and her sons. "You saved Narnia!"

  Hardly.

  Hope fumbled with the skirt of her dress to look busy. "Well, I-I don't know. I sort of just... showed up unannounced and disturbed your work. And please, there's no need to call me... that. My name is Hope, and I'm very fond of it."

  Some of the commoners laughed nervously. One said, "You have a charming sense of humor, Your Majesty."

  Hope's eyebrow raised, but she supposed she would've reacted similarly. It had taken Edmund a decent amount of effort to promise she wouldn't be executed for calling him by his given name. Miraz's rule was no different from King David's, anyhow.

  There came a pause as both parties hesitated. It took a moment before a beaver stepped forward. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Your Majesty?" he inquired.

  "I, um... I craved the fresh air." What Hope really meant to say was that it was too suffocating in the castle, but... details, details. "Have you all been adjusting well now that the war is over?"

  Whispers spilled from the people, all unintelligible from where Hope lingered by the outskirts.

  She swallowed hard, fussing with her dress again. With a nervous, tight-lipped smile, Hope asked, "Is something the matter?"

  "No!" burst a dwarf. "No, trust us, Your Majesty. All is well—" Another dwarf elbowed him. "Ey!"

  "Ignore them, Your Majesty," chimed the beaver from before. "We're alright."

  "Perfectly well, thank you!" the faun squeaked.

  Hope's eyes narrowed. She supposed some wouldn't be able to decipher the contradiction before her. But she had lived among people who had little and refused to ask for even a crumb more, even if the opportunity presented itself to them. She recognized their ticks and twitches, for they were once her own. Her mouth opened, but she considered her words a moment longer before she spoke.

  "I... have never done this before," Hope confessed. "Leading, speaking for others, spending time by myself... Sitting on a throne, wearing dresses far more expensive than my entire existence... I really, truly do not know how to do any of this. But... I spent my life as a handmaid. The ghost of her may never stop haunting me. So believe me when I say, if there is anything I can do to make the... transition into this new world easier, I implore you to tell me. Whether now or later. It is the least I can do for my people."

  And when she called them her people, she hoped they understood that she didn't refer to them as Narnians or others as Telmarine-Wysterians. She meant commoners. Commoners were forged the same in every land, bred from the dirt, spilling with blood and sweat from all their hard work.

  "That's just the problem," the older centaur finally revealed, touching her son's head. "I mean no disrespect, Your Majesty, truly, but..."

  "Speak your mind," Hope encouraged. "I don't want to live in a kingdom where we all walk on eggshells around each other. I know I have a long way to prove myself to Narnia and therefore all of you, but please, I insist you speak as freely as you wish."

  The older centaur nodded, pushing her blonde ringlets behind her ear. "Very well. It's your chosen verbiage that troubles us. A new world."

  "Telmar is a new world. Narnia is the old world. Our world," said the beaver. "Why must everything change all over again?"

  "We're grateful beyond what words can say for all that you've done. The High Kings and Queens, Aslan, all of you have given life to Narnia again," added a dwarf. "But you're all so focused on reconstructing the kingdom that it feels like..." He hesitated. "It feels as though we're only in the way."

  Hope's shoulders fell. Everything they were doing was for them. How long had they felt this way?

  "Do we still have a place here? Can Narnia continue to exist after all that we've suffered under the Telmarines?" spewed the faun. "How long until the Telmarines retaliate against us? Will they ever accept us? We're safe today, but will we be safe tomorrow?"

  "Easy, darling," the beaver reassured. "What we mean is, we wouldn't have been able to come out of our caves without all that you've done for us. But you focus so much on what you want our futures to look like that it feels like we've somehow been forgotten. No one's asked us what we want, what we're concerned about. Most of us are still mourning our losses, and you're all rushing to move on."

  Hope hadn't thought about that, not really. Maybe they all had in the beginning, but with the ongoing battles and Miraz... They'd become so busy so quickly that they'd all simply forgotten. Had the others realized this yet, or were they still naïvely distracted?

  Someone needed to tell them. And Hope knew it would be her.

  She came a few steps closer. "Hypothetically... if there was a message or two you'd like to relay to the High Kings and Queens, what might that be?"

  The Narnians hesitated another moment, but it was like the floodgates had opened only a moment later. Clearly, they'd been waiting to be asked this because once one request came out, more followed instantly.

  Inquiries about housing and schools and lawmaking and neighborhoods and introducing new resources into the trade market and bringing back traditional festivals filled Hope's ears. It got so hectic that they had to sit her down and offer parchment for Hope to write them all down. The small group of Narnians became a crowd, and that crowd became a line that wound around the district. They offered the handmaid a cup of tea, but it cooled without ever being touched. Hope's hands were smeared with ink by the time she was finished.

  Hope didn't know how to be a ruler—or if she was really qualified to be one. But she did know how to listen, and she knew how to care for those who needed it, even when they refused to ask for it. To her, that felt like a superpower in itself. She didn't need to know the intricacies of the throne or ordinance.

  If that was the others' strengths, this—her compassion, her warmth—would be hers.

○ ○ ○

  By the time Hope returned to the castle—apparently, it would also be named Cair Paravel—she could hardly see what was in front of her. Scrolls and folded parchments piled and spilled out of her arms, each ink-filled with the requests and desires of the Narnians. Sure, she could've been more cognizant of how she organized her scribblings, but honestly, she figured Susan would have more fun doing it herself.

  The Pevensies, Odette, and Caspian were gathered in the throne room, which had been restored, cleaned, and redecorated in recent days, as had most of the castle. Whether it was magic or hard work, Hope didn't question it.

  "There you are!" Lucy greeted. A flower crown had made its way back into her copper hair. Their warm tones made her blue eyes gleam. "I was beginning to suspect you'd fallen into another wardrobe!"

  Edmund cringed at the thought. "What's that you've got there, dear?"

  Hope was distracted by how shiny the room had become since she last set foot in there. "Huh? Oh, this? I've been busy—completely unintentionally, mind you." She shuffled over to them, dumping the scrolls into Edmund's arms. "I leave for a walk, and I return the messenger. Now, where did I put that...?" She picked through the scrolls in pursuit of one in particular. Edmund didn't complain, somehow finding the whole sight entertaining.

  "The messenger?" Peter laughed. "Now, you've got me worried you've returned with a list of complaints."

  "More or less, actually," said Hope. "You all should get out of the castle more often. Respectfully, sorry. I don't really know what the rules around here are anymore. You'll have to catch me up to speed. Why have we gathered here, by the way?"

  "Have you already forgotten?" Edmund asked.

  "My memory is pristine, I'll have you know—"

  "You forgot."

  "Completely forgot, yeah," Hope dismissed. "Where did I—? Ah, here!" She slid a scroll out from the middle of the pile. A satyr passing by gave Edmund a look, as if offering to take the scrolls from him. Edmund shook his head, reassuring the satyr that he was perfectly alright. "Before I get into this, what exactly am I forgetting?"

  "The coronation," Susan stated.

  "Who's?" asked Hope. "Do you four have to do that all over again, considering the whole thing with Miraz?"

  "No, we're still kings and queens," said Lucy.

  "Your politics, to this day, make zero sense," Hope said, booping her nose with the enclosed parchment. The Valiant giggled.

  "Caspian's coronation, babe," Odette reminded.

  Susan gave the blonde a look. "And yours. And Hope's."

  Hope and Odette immediately snorted. But then no one else laughed. Caspian just furrowed his eyebrows. For the life of him, he could never predict what was about to come out of either Wysterian girl's mouth next.

  "Seriously?" Odette asked. She glanced around the room. "You mean, like, a coronation. Like, with crowns and-and stuff?"

  With a little smile, Susan replied. "Yes, that would be the one. Once all of the finer details are deliberated, the preparations for your coronation should be actualized in three days' time—"

  "But I haven't been married!" Odette exploded with laughter. It took all of the strength she had not to keel over hysterically. She brought her hands to her face, wiping the tears that had yet to even fall. "My father engraved that rule into my bones. A princess cannot become Queen until her hand has been taken. The farthest I've given my hand is to pick up a bloody crossbow!"

  "You've fought wars," Susan reminded.

  "That makes me a soldier, not a queen. Worse, it makes me the last-picked soldier," Odette laughed. "A hand-me-down if you will."

  "Odette, what world are you living in? Where in the rules does it state that one must marry to take the throne?" queried Peter.

  "He's right," Edmund said. "Otherwise, that'd mean I'm married to my brother, and he has foul morning breath." Peter just shot him an offended look. "What?"

  "I don't want to be married to you," Susan said to her siblings. "I already had to share a womb with you—"

  "You're the one that stretched it out," Edmund argued. "It was all worn in by the time Lu and I got there."

  Lucy covered her ears, grimacing. "Don't call our mum worn in!"

  "Yeah," Peter remarked, "and if anything, Ed, your massive head was the reason that—"

  "Okay!" Hope exclaimed. She waved her scroll between them, grasping their attention again. "Listen, from my understanding, Odette is the rightful heir to the throne. And, no offense, babe, but your parents have been dead forever. I seriously doubt the Telmarines carried over every law they instilled to this day."

  "Actually, if I may," Caspian chimed. "It is true that in my— our culture, a woman does not typically take the throne without a husband."

  Red-faced, still giggling in disbelief, Odette said, "In the least respectful manner possible, I am not marrying you—"

  "Did she say least respectful?" Peter whispered to Lucy, who just shrugged.

  "—not because you're a bad person. Well, you might be," Odette said. "But the truth of the matter is, Caspian's father and Miraz were the last Kings of Telmar. Caspian is the last of their bloodline that is capable of taking the throne. Therefore, Telmar— Narnia— whatever you want to call it is his!"

  "But what about Hope?" Lucy asked.

  Hope perked up. "What about Hope? Hope doesn't want to be involved in this conversation anymore."

  "Hope is married to our little brother," Peter reminded her, squeezing Edmund's cheek. He was lucky Edmund's arms were too preoccupied to hit him. "I still can't believe it. The Just has been wedded before all of us, and he didn't even invite us!"

  "Well, the reception was cut short after fairies tried to kill us," Edmund said simply.

  "It was also an accident," Hope added. "I mean, not that I don't— I mean, Edmund and I are still— I still like— He's my— Well, he's my—" She groaned, hitting herself with her scroll. "Edmund is my Edmund. But that doesn't mean I qualify to be a bloody queen!"

  Susan and Edmund exchanged glances. "Actually—" Edmund started.

  "It doesn't!" Hope exclaimed. "Historically, I am a traitor to Telmar, Wysteria, and Narnia's thrones."

  "So am I," Edmund said, shrugging. "And I turned out alright."

  "You two are disgustingly perfect for each other," Odette grumbled. "Alright, then, it's settled. By default, Caspian and Hope are to be coronated."

  "You're older than Caspian," Hope argued. "It's your throne. You've been preparing for your queendom your entire life, Ode!"

  "But!"

  "Don't but me! You know I'm right!"

  As they continued to bicker, the Pevensies waited patiently for them to finish. Caspian, who was terribly confused, asked, "Do they know there isn't only one king or queen in Narnia?"

  "They'll get there," Susan dismissed.

  "...Do they do this... often?" Caspian asked. He'd never had sisters before, clearly.

  Peter hummed. "You'd think they're blood."

  The fighting only ceased when a deep voice chuckled, reverberating through the room. "You all certainly know how to announce your presence," Aslan greeted. His eyes shrunk with his smile. As the seven curtseyed and bowed, his tail swept the floor where he lingered by the door. "Princess Odette, Lady Hope, might I trouble the pair of you for a walk through the garden?"

  Hope sucked in a deep breath that she incidentally forgot to release. Odette swatted her back, allowing the redhead to finally squeak, "Of course! Yeah, o-of course, Your Majesty!"

  "He's not going to eat us for, I don't know, being annoying, right?" Odette whispered.

  "He might," Edmund said.

  "Ed!" Lucy hissed. "He's not that kind of lion."

  Odette nodded. "Right... Well, I'll take your word for it. C'mon, Hope."

○ ○ ○

  The walk was, surprisingly, unbearably quiet.

  The glorious lion strolled between the Wysterian girls through the already flourishing garden. It made sense the flowers were in bloom again. Autumn had yet to settle. Summer held on with its last breaths, sprouting every plant under the sun in celebration for Narnia's rebirth.

  "How relieving it is, knowing the seasons never truly die off," Aslan eventually said. His voice was rich. The flowers tended to turn toward him to listen. "There is no end, only cycles that restart. Again and again, everything has changed. It already has. And so it will continue to change."

  "In Wysteria, we resisted change, but we weren't strong enough," Odette recalled. She was calmer now. The sweet air had kneaded her muscles. For once, she wore her hair down, fond of the breeze that swept through her waves. "Aslan... if I may speak freely, are we at fault for Wysteria's demise?"

  "Wysteria never truly fell though, did it?" Aslan returned. He gestured to the grand hedges around them. "The people have moved, but the earth remembers. The Telmarines are your people."

  "They obliterated Narnia," Odette gently argued. "If my parents had the manpower... I don't doubt they would've dared the same."

  "Aslan, why didn't you save Wysteria all those years ago?" Hope wondered. "If Wysteria never crumbled, maybe Narnia wouldn't have succumbed to such darkness for as long as it did."

  "Because everything is destined to change, no matter how desperately you push against it," Aslan said. "You cannot place a pebble before a waterfall and expect the water to cease flowing. Wysteria was weak without faith, and so it drowned in it. What resurfaced was Wysteria's second chance."

  "And they blew it," Odette muttered.

  "Because the rulers the Wysterians—or rather Telmarines—let lead them were more preoccupied with their own voracious desires than the ones of their people," Aslan replied. He lifted his head, eyes closing to embrace the sun on his fur. His mane glistened gold.

  Odette fidgeted with the ends of her hair. "But... you want us to rule Narnia. How do you know history won't repeat itself?"

  "You won't. I know your hearts well. I have seen them beat for others time and time again," said Aslan. "Rules are meant to change. Time is meant to change. You mustn't fear your ability to change the land and history in favor of its lively potential. I hear the changes you wish to invoke in your prayers, the same changes you once prayed for Wysteria. If you want them so much, why do you fear them?"

  Hope crossed her arms. "These people should be tended to by rulers they can trust wholeheartedly. Like the Pevensies. Like you. We're only girls. We've made mistakes."

  "And the ones that came before you haven't also made mistakes?" Aslan gently remarked.

  Odette stared down at her shoes. "But we're— well, I'm different. I was always told to live my life one way. I don't know how to change. At the same time, I think I've changed too much, but my skin feels the same as it always has."

  "Dearest, the most confused we ever get is when we try to convince our heads of something our hearts know is a lie. I see you for all that you are, skin to bones to heart, and I am telling you that the past is a memory. A memory we mustn't forget, but a memory nonetheless," said Aslan. "You weren't ready before, but you are now."

  "Are we?" Hope doubted. "Every day for the past... I'm not even sure how long, has felt like lesson after lesson, mistake after mistake."

  "And that is part of why I sent the two of you to the other world. The most valuable lessons are the ones that happen right under our noses," confessed Aslan. "You must experience darkness, particularly our innermost shadows, to appreciate the resilience of light. I had to briefly take your memories to reinforce that lesson in you both. Your hearts are stubborn, which can be a strength if you will it. Faith is a powerful tool, after all. Even when you did not know it, faith is what's saved you both time and time again. Faith in each other, faith in me, faith in the future."

  They exited the garden, heading for the peak that overlooked the eastern seas. The wind kissed their faces, frizzing their hair.

  "These people respect you both. They confide in you. In times of great darkness, they sought out the light, and there you were, standing among the others," Aslan went on. "It takes time and patience for shadows to recede. Light cannot be forced the way darkness can. Finding yourself is what makes your fires ignite brighter."

  "Must we burn ourselves in the process of getting to know ourselves?" Hope mumbled.

  Aslan chuckled. "Yes, dear one. That is how we learn. Never underestimate the impact of a flame, no matter how small. It was never going to be easy. You knew that already though, didn't you?"

  Odette's shoulders fell. "So... that's it? We just have to trust that all will work out in the end? That all of the change that's about to hit us again will be worth it?"

  "You will be different. In fact, you already are. And before either of you argues, why shouldn't you be different? Is it so wrong to embody the change you wish to see in the world? Lessons are meant to be passed down between generations. Your time has come. No longer are you the Lost Princess of Wysteria or a humble handmaiden—or even the Just King's wife. You will be more. You already are more," Aslan declared. "Of course, everything is changing. The price of your new life is your old one. Do you accept?"

  Under the setting sun, the three stood in silence.

  The price of your new life is your old one.

  For the first time, Hope found herself wondering the same. Why shouldn't everything change? I don't want to be the girl I once was.

  And so, three days later, two queens and one king were coronated.

  The rulers would forever be remembered as the following:

  To the clear northern skies, High King Peter the Magnificent—Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, Sir Peter Wolf's-Bane.

  To the radiant southern sun, Queen Susan the Gentle—Lady of the Horn.

  To the great western woods, King Edmund the Just—Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March, and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table.

  To the glistening eastern sea, Queen Lucy the Valiant—the beating heart of Narnia.

  To the strong winds, King Caspian X the Navigator—Lord of Telmar, Knight of the Noble Order of the Table.

  To the glimmering moon, Queen Odette the Selfless—Empress of Wysteria.

  And to the dazzling constellations that guide us through all, even the darkest nights, Queen Hope the Bright—Knight of the Noble Order of the Table, Captain of Narnia's Royal Guard. Narnia's Hope.

  Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen. May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens.