The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

The Third Arrow - One Shot

A/N: Set after the events of Prince Caspian, between Chapters 16 and 17.

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Margaret didn't know what to make of this. Certainly, she had never expected to see it again, and certainly never here of all places. It must have been Aslan's doing, for how else could a thing of Narnia wind up in this world?

She had reached into a satchel for a quill - no, just a regular ink pen, she reminded herself - and had found the shaft of an arrow instead.

Not just any arrow, of course, but one of those three that had laid her low. She felt it in her bones; she would know them anywhere. The other two had been buried; one with Miraz, and one with Sopespian, once his body had been retrieved from the river.

For their crimes, including her murder, the arrows had been entombed with them as a symbol of their guilt.

The third, she herself had thrown into the River Rush. And yet, here it sat, in her satchel.

A puzzle indeed.

One to solve later, for at the moment, she found herself in the midst of company who might misunderstand the presence of such a thing, and so, she settled it a bit further into the satchel and resumed the search for a pen.

A sign from Aslan... it must be. But a sign of what?

-

All became clear later that same day. Margaret had gone to sit in the park, the only place beside Granny's garden where she felt most like being in Narnia again. Lying in the grass with her hair tangled in the greenery didn't feel quite the same here, especially with the noise and the people, but close enough.

The sky was not so blue here, which saddened her, and the sun was much older than that of Narnia. But, she mused to herself, even Narnia's sun had looked older this last time than it had when she and her siblings had first arrived.

All at once, she felt a great sadness at the thought of them. Peter and Susan, especially, whom she was never to see again until the End of All Things. And, as she so often did when she felt that aching emptiness yawning like a chasm inside her heart, Margaret sat up, and took hold of her diary.

It did her good to trace the lines of Peter's face onto the paper, beside the written memory of how they danced together on her eighteenth birthday. He lived beside her once more on paper, preserved mid-laugh, mid-dance...

Then Susan, sitting beneath a cherry-blossom dryad's tree, combing her long, dark hair.

Margaret glanced up across the way every so often, using a nearby tree in the park for reference, to fill the gaps which memory could not tell. She traced in the leaves, adding in a few extra petals which floated down into her sister's hair.

Something across the way gave her pause when next she looked to the tree. A familiar face... Could it be?

The vertical scar across his eye gave him away, though the child with him was much older than the babe she remembered. The woman, less royally dressed, still held an unmistakable air of nobility in her composure.

His scarred eye met hers, and he paused.

Margaret had a feeling she knew why that arrow had appeared. To his fortune, it would hold a different meaning for him than it had for the other two.

She stood fully and approached him, feeling one part a scared young girl, and the other part a Narnian Queen.

His back straightened, his shoulders squaring to attention as she neared, the General emerging once more.

"Your Majesty," Glozelle said lowly.

Prunaprismia took notice of Margaret at his words.

"Nobody calls me that here," she replied, awkwardly aware of how plain and un-Narnian she sounded. "I'm just Margaret."

She smiled in what she hoped seemed a cordial way to Prunaprismia, glancing down at the child. Part of her couldn't help but wonder if Caspian had looked just like that when he had been so young, for she saw him in his cousin's wide brown eyes and innocent smile.

"I didn't expect to see you here in my time," she said to break the settling silence. "I hope you've been doing alright?"

Prunaprismia's face held a hint of a smile, and Margaret noticed the wedding bands upon the couple's hands.

"Aslan was true to His word," she said. "We've got a good life here. Even if it did take some adjusting in the beginning."

Glozelle nodded.

"I imagine that this is not just a passing encounter," he said after a moment.

Margaret nodded. "I think you're right about that..."

They were, all of them, seeing each other at their most vulnerable: A good general once beholden to a wretched man, and two Queens with no kingdom, one former and one in temporary exile, now stood before each other as a simple husband and wife, and an ordinary young girl. They all held secrets, both wonderful and terrible, from this world in which they found themselves.

Reaching into her bag with care, Margaret withdrew the arrow, suddenly feeling the presence of the Lion upon her, and from within flowed language of poetry, and magic, and war.

"Three arrows there were that struck me dead," she murmured, Glozelle at pained attention, "Two of which lie with men whom Aslan found guilty, and condemned to die for their crimes. The third is meant for you. It is not an omen of death and judgement, as the others were for Sopespian and Miraz. Rather, what I give you now on behalf of the Great Lion is a reminder; a symbol of the past you have left behind, and a beacon of hope for the future you have chosen."

She gently pressed it into his palm and closed his fingers around it, smiling gently at the emotion in his eyes.

"When you see it, do not think of guilt. Do not think of a past for which you have been forgiven. Think of a Queen revived, and a traitor redeemed." She bowed her head to him as the last of Narnian magic slipped away from her. "May Aslan bring you peace until the Stars rain down from the Heavens."

He bowed his head in return, eyes glistening.

"Thank you, My Lady."

Margaret gave him a small smile.

"I don't believe we're going to meet again," she said.

"I wish you well," Prunaprismia told her. "I saw your heart for Caspian, and I hope you are able to return to him."

A slight pang resounded in her heart at the reminder of that wedding vision. Even if she did return...

But she put up a smile, for their sakes.

"Thank you. And... goodbye."

They parted ways, and, as predicted, never met again, though the encounter remained with each of them in spirit always. And when Margaret had returned for the third and final time, after she had realized her foolishness and had married Caspian, she eventually told him of a man redeemed, and of a young child raised by a strong woman who would ensure he did not follow in his father's footsteps. Caspian would not meet his cousin until the End of Time, but the two of them took peace in the knowledge that safety and light would follow the path of that small family in another world for all Time.

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A/N: Not too sure how I feel about this one tbh, but it's what I felt most inspired for at the moment so... here it is. Please let me know what you think! And if you have anything you'd like to see in any other followup one shots, please let me know!