chapter 17

                                    

                                          
Chapter 17
Solace
Caspian left to gather a small council of Narnians for battle planning. He intended to drag out the task to give the guardians some time alone. The High King paced the room while his little sister sat on the Stone Table with their mage's arm around her. Edmund sat on the stump of a broken column.
"What was it like being asleep for so long?" Susan asked. She was sifting through Dahlia's centuries of offerings. "Did you dream?"
Dahlia shook her head. Susan sat on the remains of another column with a straw doll of the mage in her hands. "These 1300 years were a blink to me. The first thing I remember is the visions. Everything flashed by like scenes from a play." She leaned forward, toying with the shrunken crown on her finger. "I wish I'd been there. I could have stopped it."
"So could we." Peter ceased his pacing to stand by his brother. "If you want to blame anyone, blame us." Shame carved lines in his youthful face. Even before he was given the moniker of High King, he had taken every pitfall as his own. He may as well have dragged his family back through the wardrobe himself, the guilt was so great.
"I tried to get back." The valiant queen's voice was hardly a whisper. She stared down at her interlocked hands to avoid her family's heartbroken gaze. "Our first few nights back home, I tried to come back through the wardrobe. I sat there for so long, but it never worked. It wasn't fair. We didn't get to say goodbye."
Peter frowned as his siblings moved to comfort their youngest. "You never told us that, Lu."
"I didn't want to worry you," Lucy sniffled. It hurt to see the sorrow of one who was usually so full of joy. "I just didn't want Dahlia to be alone." Something about this struck Peter in the chest. He pivoted, striding abruptly to the opposite side of the room with his back to the others. Susan caught Dahlia's eye and nodded. Her sister would be alright in their care. The mage was needed elsewhere.
"Peter?" He did not answer. His arms were wrapped around himself and his jaw was clenched. Dahlia placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from her touch, but turned. Tears sparkled in the firelight. Dahlia opened her arms. 
Peter collapsed into her, no longer the High King, but the burdened boy she had known 1300 years ago. He clung to her, calling her sister and soaking her hair with his tears. He blubbered through apologies and pleas for forgiveness. Dahlia gave them. She bore no resentment towards the Pevensies. For fifteen years, they had cared for Narnia with the passion of someone born there. They gave her family, home, and purpose. The richness of the Golden Age came not from treasure, but from the love of its rulers. With this love, they would bring their world back into the light.