The sun began to dip below the horizon when Imira arrived at Cair Paravel, her pegasus gliding gracefully towards the familiar castle. As she touched down on the grounds, her presence was immediately noticed, and the Narnian guards greeted her with a mixture of relief and joy. 

The news she carried, the victory achieved in the southern lands, spread like wildfire through the capital. The soldiers cheered, and the people of Narnia exchanged smiles and glances of hope. Imira's return brought a renewed sense of optimism, a reminder that their kings and queens were a beacon of strength and leadership in troubled times. 

Imira dismounted her pegasus, patting its sleek neck in gratitude for their journey. She led the creature to a nearby fountain, allowing it to drink from the refreshing waters. The garden surrounding the fountain was a peaceful oasis within the castle grounds, a place of solace for both visitors and residents alike. 

"And Peridan?" Susan asked Imira. 

"He'll return shortly now that Rabadash has been dealt with," Imira reassured her. 

"Mother!" the twins Edward and William dashed out into the garden. As soon as they heard their mother was back they crossed the castle to find her. 

Imira smiled at them and went up to them, mother and sons embracing in a tight hug. 

"They say we won," Edward said. 

"We did," Imira confirmed, letting them go. 

Curiosity danced in William's eyes as he looked up at his mother. "What happened?" he urged, his eagerness evident.

Imira was about to regale them with a tale that would have them laughing and cheering, but their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the advisors. She wanted to eat, not talk, but her duty to the kingdom came before her own desires. Suppressing her own hunger and weariness, Imira composed herself and faced the advisors. 

She told them the basics. That the Calormen were defeated at the gate of Anvard, that no great losses had struck them or Archenland, and that Rabadash would no longer be a problem. The rest, the bit about Rabadash turning into an ass and Prince Cor being back from the dead, that they could learn from Edmund and Lucy when they got back, or from Susan should she feel so inclined to share once she told her. There was one more pressing matter to address. 

"Matters should resume as they were," Imira said, "But taxing on Calormen goods should increase. Present your proposals to King Edmund, he should arrive shortly. We can discuss it further on the next grand council meeting. But double the guard around any Calormen who steps onto our shores. Especially if they seek an audience or come to court,"

"Lord Henry already suggested it," William said, surprising Imira. 

Imira looked at her friend and the cheeky bastard gave her a smirk. 

Arrogant prick, Imira thought, amused. "Good," Imira said. "Since Lord Henry seems to have such good ideas, he will be able to answer all further questions you might have," 

She saw from the corner of her eye the servants carrying dinner and decided she would not deny herself further. 

"That will be all," she said with poised finality, ordering the councilmen out. 

All obeyed. All except one. 

Lord Henry approached her. "Even me?" he asked her with a smile she knew too well. 

"Won't Lady Phoebe wish for you to have dinner with your own family?" Imira asked. 

"I'm not hungry just yet. We'll dine later," Lord Henry replied. 

"Fine," Imira agreed, amused by his persistence. "But only because this is the best piece of gossip in a decade and I want to be the first to tell you," 

As dusk settled and darkness rose, Lord Henry joined the two queens and twin princess for and early dinner. The atmosphere was filled with warmth and laughter as Imira recounted the events that had transpired in Anvard, her words weaving a vivid tapestry of adventure and amusement. The boys listened with rapt attention, their laughter mingling with Susan's own mirth. 

Imira's tale was met with roaring laughter, punctuated by moments of uncontrollable amusement. 

"Mother, can we please go see him? Please?" William pleaded, his eyes shining with excitement once he had regained his composure, his face still red. 

The boys and Lord Henry had been hauling with laughter, even Susan laughed enough for tears to fill her eyes. 

Imira chuckled at her son's enthusiasm, his infectious energy lighting up the room. "Not unaccompanied," she replied, her voice gentle but firm. She understood their desire to witness the spectacle for themselves, but safety always took precedence. 

"But, please. We want to see the donkey," William persisted, his joy uncontainable. 

Lord Henry, who had been laughing heartily, joined in. "Does he look much like Rabadash?" he asked, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Imira smirked, recalling the comical appearance of the transformed Rabadash. "Same ridiculous beard," she replied, unable to suppress her own laughter.

Edward, ever curious, posed his own question. "Can he still talk?" 

"Oh, it would be so funny if he could still talk," William laughed.  

Imira shook her head, her laughter subsiding. "It would be, but alas, he cannot," she explained. "And he is rather obnoxious, trying to kick and bite anyone who comes near him."

The boys erupted into fits of laughter once again, their amusement uncontainable. The thought of the once proud and arrogant Rabadash reduced to such a state was a source of endless amusement for them.

"Can we go to Anvard and see? Please?" William pleaded once more. 

"No," Imira said firmly yet still smiling. King Lunce had enough going on as it was, no need to add two rambunctions teenage boys to his plate. He already had two himself. Besides, he probably wanted to get to know his long lost son. 

"I promise, I'll take you boys when I return," Imira said. 

The boys exchanged disappointed glances but nodded in reluctant agreement. Their mother always kept her promises. 

Despite the warmth of the reunion, Imira felt a sense of purpose and duty tugging at her. She knew that her time at Cair Paravel was limited, her responsibilities as queen called her back to the northern lands.

Imira stood up, her eyes drawn to the garden beyond. With a firm resolve, she let out a commanding whistle, and her loyal pegasus answered, its wings unfurling in response.

"The sun is setting, you cannot mean to leave," Susan said, worry etched across her lovely face. 

Imira turned to face Susan, her expression filled with a mix of determination and affection.  "Flying in the evening is less hot," Imira said. "Besides, it is not so far away," 

The queens embraced. "I am happy for you, Susan. We are going to have so much fun planning your wedding when I get back," she squeezed her tightly. 

Susan smiled. "We are," she agreed. She remembered how much she had enjoyed planning Imira's. 

"Be careful, alright," Susan said. 

"I always am," Imira said and then turned to her sons. 

"Safe travels, my Queen," Lord Henry bowed his head to her and at her smile he turned. He knew better than to stick around any longer. 

"Will you write when it is safe for us to go north?" William asked. 

"I will, darling boy," She reached out and tenderly brushed her fingers against his cheek. 

"Can we leave Cair Paravel?" Edward asked as they walked her to her horse. He felt caged in being barred form leaving the castle grounds. 

Imira placed an arm around her youngest son's shoulders. So much taller than before they left for Calormen, it still amazed her. 

"You can go as far south and west as the eye can see, but not alone and not without informing your aunt," Imira declared, her voice carrying a mother's love and authority. Her words were not meant to restrict their freedom, but rather to instil a sense of responsibility and awareness.  

Edward nodded. "We will," 

Imira released her hold on Edward, and looked at both her sons, her expression filled with love. "Take care, my darlings,"  

"Yes, mother," the twin princes said at the same time, eliciting a smile from her.

"We shall be together soon," she promised them. 

Imira mounted her majestic pegasus, the creature taking flight with grace and power, its wings beating against the air. As she rose higher into the sky, her gaze lingered on her children, William and Edward, who stood below. 

One last war and she would return to the most important task of all, raising them. 

Accompanied by her loyal pegasus, Imira soared through the night sky. The passage of time was marked by the changing colors of the sky, transforming from vibrant purples and blues to deeper, more mysterious hues. The moon and stars emerged, casting their ethereal glow upon the world below, and they served as their guiding beacons, illuminating the path ahead as they ventured further north.

They pressed onward, their journey northward continuing throughout the night. Darkness enveloped them, the cool wind rushed past. She did not particularly enjoy wearing helmets, it got humid and suffocating under them in battle, but she was glad she had hers on now.

As the hours passed, dawn began to approach, heralding the impending arrival of a new day. Yet, despite the anticipation of sunlight, the sky remained shrouded in heavy clouds. As they flew north, the air grew thick with the scent of imminent rain, its smell strong and cold. 

The distant rumble of thunder reached Imira's ears, a low and foreboding symphony that echoed through the sky. She strained her senses, searching for the accompanying flash of lightning that usually illuminated the heavens. But the lightning remained elusive, obscured by the thick veil of clouds. 

Or maybe it was the limited vision of her helmet, she pondered for a moment. 

Undeterred by the darkened sky and the brewing storm, Imira urged her pegasus forward, for she recognized the landscape below and could tell the battle camp was just a bit further. 

As they descended she noticed the landscape wasn't as dark as it should be. Below, in the fields of battle past the camp, Imira saw fire. 

She leaned towards her pegasus's neck and pointed. "There!" she shouted over the wind. "Something is happening, take me there," 

Imira's heart raced as they descended and saw the battle raging. Her eyes scanned the battlefield and the chaos below for Peter. The scene before her was a whirlwind of dust, smoke, and the clash of swords. She could see soldiers fighting valiantly, their armour glistening in the dim light. She managed to spot him by his familiar suit of armour, standing by his standard bearers, giving orders from the backline. The smell of burnt wood and scorched earth filled the air. She realized it was not the sound of thunder she had heard but the sound of boulders falling and crashing on either direction, for the Ettins threw them at the Narnian line and the Narnians used their catapults against the giants. 

Imira's sharp eyes darted around, searching for any sign of Firestream. Strange, Imira thought, he was nowhere around. Three options: he was either injured, dead, or he had left. She hoped it was the first one, but she didn't dwell much on it. Not when the fighting raged on.  

She spotted her army's weakness, the left flank, and decided that was where she would go. 

"Onwards," Imira ordered her pegasus and charged. 

With swift and precise movements, Queen Imira soared through the air, her sword cutting through the darkness as a bolt of lightning lit the sky. In one fluid motion, she targeted a giant's face, aiming for its vulnerable eyes. Her blade found its mark, slicing through the giant's flesh with a resounding cry of pain. 

Cheers erupted from the Narnian soldiers, their spirits uplifted by the sight of the Queen's return. 

The giant, momentarily blinded and disoriented, staggered back, its hands instinctively reaching for its wounded face. Sensing the opportune moment, the Narnian soldiers sprang into action. With a unified effort, they launched a barrage of attacks, striking the giant's legs and torso with weapons of all kinds.

The giant, weakened and overwhelmed, faltered under the relentless assault. Its massive form trembled, unable to withstand the combined might of the Narnians. With a thunderous crash, the giant collapsed to the ground, its body shaking the earth beneath it. 

"To the Queen!" King Peter's battle cry led his standing forces into another attack and with the Narnian spirits uplifted the soldiers attacked with renewed strength. 

Imira soared through the dark sky on her black pegasus. As she descended upon the unsuspecting giants, her presence remained concealed by the shadows. In the darkness, she became a formidable force, striking fear into the hearts of her colossal adversaries.

With each swing of her sword, she brought the Narnians closer to victory, her movements a blur of deadly precision. The gleam of her armour caught the occasional flash of lightning, momentarily illuminating her figure in a brilliant display of strength and grace. The metallic sheen seemed to reflect the very fury of the stormy heavens, amplifying her imposing presence. 

The sound of thunder echoed through the night, serving as a symphony to Imira's righteous fury. The stormy weather, with its darkened skies and intermittent lightning, seemed to align with her purpose, lending an air of mythical grandeur to her every movement. 

Imira's pegasus, well-trained and agile, maneuvred through the chaos with ease. It deftly avoided the projectiles launched by the enemy, its wings beating gracefully against the turbulent wind. 

With each swing of her sword, Imira struck fear into the hearts of the giants who, caught off guard by her lightning-fast movements, struggled to defend themselves. Imira's sword sliced through the air, finding its mark on the face of yet another of her towering foes. The cries of pain echoed through the battlefield as she created openings for the Narnians to strike. 

The Narnian soldiers surged forward, attacking the weakened giants from all sides. Arrows flew through the air, finding their targets with deadly accuracy. The giants, disoriented and wounded, could not withstand the combined might of the Narnians. Here and there they collapsed to the ground, their towering form crumbling under the assault, and when the rain began pouring, then the ground became a muddly bloody trap, the Narnians knew they were close to victory. 

Though the storm threatened, it did not deter Imira's resolve for battles were often fought not only on the field but in the face of nature's fury. 

Danger loomed in the sky as Imira and her loyal pegasus continued their valiant assault. As the giants fell before her, one by one, their reign of terror came closer to an end. In their place, hope rose like a phoenix, fueled by the indomitable spirit of the High Queen. In the early dawn, she blazed a trail of triumph, leaving no doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with—a battle goddess in her own right. 

Imira soared through the stormy sky, her eyes ablaze with the thrill of battle as she looked for her next target. Unscathed and undefeated, emboldened by her prowess she surveyed the carnage below. Battle was her domain and glory was her addiction. 

She raised her sword.

She was a force to be reckoned with, an unstoppable warrior whose prowess knew no bounds, a daughter of kings, a leader of— a bolt of lightning tore through the air, crackling with ominous energy. 

In a blinding flash it struck her with merciless precision. 

The electric shock coursed through Imira's body, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer force of the impact. Her consciousness shattered like fragments of glass, and she was cast into a void of darkness. 

Unconscious, she fell from her mount, hurtling towards the earth below, a silent and helpless figure.

High King Peter, witnessing the devastating turn of events, stood frozen in disbelief. His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing to comprehend the tragedy unfolding before his eyes. He was too far away, unable to reach her in time, the anguish of helplessness seizing his every fiber. 

Desperation gripped Peter as he watched his beloved wife's descent. A flicker of hope sparked within him, reassuring him that the fall may not be fatal. She could survive, he reasoned, clinging to the belief that her resilience would see her through. With a renewed surge of determination, he sprinted towards her, his legs carrying him as swiftly as possible.

But as Peter closed the distance, his hopes were cruelly shattered. Imira's body collided with the ground, the impact echoing through the air. In the midst of the chaos, he saw the lifeless form of his beloved queen, impaled upon a broken lance. Time seemed to stand still as the realization pierced his heart like a dagger.

He knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out to take off her helmet. 

A cry of anguish tore from Peter's lips as he stared at her beautiful face. Eyes open, staring into nothingness, a tendril of blood streaming down the side of her mouth. 

Dead. 

She was dead. 

The battle continued to rage around him, but for Peter, the world had come to a standstill, trapped in an eternal moment of profound grief and immeasurable loss. Imira, the fearless warrior, the woman who had won his heart, the third Queen of Narnia had fallen.