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Narnia: an ounce of prevention
A repost for linking convenience. Originally posted here.
An Ounce of Prevention
Narnia. Edmund & the Narnian Intelligence Agency, even though they're not really called that. PG. Golden Age fic. 359 words.
Edmund was late for the briefing.
“My apologies,” he said, as all faces in the antechamber turned to him. “We ran into an unexpected situation on our return.” He strode to the center of the room where Oreius and the High King stood.
“I came this close to sending Inaxia out to look for you,” muttered Peter so that only Edmund can hear.
“Don’t belittle me, brother,” said Edmund, not without a smile.
There were fresh spatters of blood on Edmund’s clothes but no one commented on it, and all were quiet as they listened to the news the Just King brought.
+
Corialis was a Hawk of the Western Wild. She was noble in spirit, a brilliant strategist, and a dear friend of King Edmund’s. One became used to the majestic bird swooping down from the heavens at great speed, to alight with unexpected grace on the king’s proffered arm.
“Greetings, my friend,” said Edmund.
“Sire,” replied Corialis with a deferential nod of her head, and began to talk softly in his ear.
The courtiers came to associate King Edmund with the beat of wings.
+
“Secret passageways?” Edmund’s brows furrowed. “In Cair Paravel?”
“It is said the fourth king of Narnia began the project to allow favored Naiads and Dryads passage to his chambers without being spotted by the queen,” Tumnus explained. “The passageways were then added to by subsequent generations. It is a well-known legend.”
“Legends,” Edmund mused, “have a dangerous way of becoming reality, in this day and age.”
It took months of searching, old magic, new magic, and vague excuses about the security of Cair Paravel’s structural design before Edmund, Tumnus, and Corialis found themselves at the edge of the royal gardens, studying a stone trapdoor that until a minute ago had been buried under a meter of dirt.
“You may go,” said Edmund over his shoulder to a pair of Moles. “Thank you for your services.”
“It’s not where the old king’s map said it would be at all,” said Tumnus, frowning at the parchment in his hands.
“Well, then,” said Corialis from the branch overhead, “we’ll have to make a new map.”
An Ounce of Prevention
Narnia. Edmund & the Narnian Intelligence Agency, even though they're not really called that. PG. Golden Age fic. 359 words.
Edmund was late for the briefing.
“My apologies,” he said, as all faces in the antechamber turned to him. “We ran into an unexpected situation on our return.” He strode to the center of the room where Oreius and the High King stood.
“I came this close to sending Inaxia out to look for you,” muttered Peter so that only Edmund can hear.
“Don’t belittle me, brother,” said Edmund, not without a smile.
There were fresh spatters of blood on Edmund’s clothes but no one commented on it, and all were quiet as they listened to the news the Just King brought.
+
Corialis was a Hawk of the Western Wild. She was noble in spirit, a brilliant strategist, and a dear friend of King Edmund’s. One became used to the majestic bird swooping down from the heavens at great speed, to alight with unexpected grace on the king’s proffered arm.
“Greetings, my friend,” said Edmund.
“Sire,” replied Corialis with a deferential nod of her head, and began to talk softly in his ear.
The courtiers came to associate King Edmund with the beat of wings.
+
“Secret passageways?” Edmund’s brows furrowed. “In Cair Paravel?”
“It is said the fourth king of Narnia began the project to allow favored Naiads and Dryads passage to his chambers without being spotted by the queen,” Tumnus explained. “The passageways were then added to by subsequent generations. It is a well-known legend.”
“Legends,” Edmund mused, “have a dangerous way of becoming reality, in this day and age.”
It took months of searching, old magic, new magic, and vague excuses about the security of Cair Paravel’s structural design before Edmund, Tumnus, and Corialis found themselves at the edge of the royal gardens, studying a stone trapdoor that until a minute ago had been buried under a meter of dirt.
“You may go,” said Edmund over his shoulder to a pair of Moles. “Thank you for your services.”
“It’s not where the old king’s map said it would be at all,” said Tumnus, frowning at the parchment in his hands.
“Well, then,” said Corialis from the branch overhead, “we’ll have to make a new map.”