Flowers grew along the banks of the Great River, petals reaching to the sunlight, begging for its warm touch. They danced as the warm spring breeze wafted through the air, their stems green as jade and their petals soft as velvet. It was a fine day to be outside in any part of Narnia, and many animals were roaming about the forest, frolicking. One animal in particular, the White Stag, was being hunted once again, although he did not know it. The Kings of Narnia, Peter and Edmund, were crouched behind a large bush, watching the stag approach the river. The apparent rumour of catching it was that if you were the captor, three of your wishes would be granted. And Edmund and Peter wanted those wishes. They and their sisters had been ruling Narnia at Cair Paravel for four years now, and the two kings had been hunting the Stag ever since hearing of it at their coronation ball. But every time they got close, the creature would somehow escape.
"Come on, Pete," Edmund encouraged in a whisper, wanting to get on with the capture. He made a move to rise but the High King caught hold of his brother's shoulder and held him down.
"Patience, brother."
"I don't want to be patient, we've had four years of being patient," Edmund huffed. He was a fourteen-year-old boy who was starting to want to want to prove himself to his older brother, to assure that he was a man in the High King's eyes. This made him quick to act and Peter chuckled as his brother whined.
"Ed, we've waited four years already, four more won't kill you," he responded, looking over his brother with ocean-blue eyes.
"But they just might bore me to death," Edmund retorted and he stood up quickly, rustling the bush.
"For Lion's sake, Edmund!" Peter cursed as he, too, stood up. The White Stag looked up and locked eyes with the High King, frozen in place.
Not knowing if the Stag was a Talking Beast or not, Peter raised his hands up as if in surrender. "Look, we do not wish to harm you."
The Stag blinked his deep brown eyes but did not shift, did not blink.
"We just want wishes," Edmund quipped in, making Peter glare in annoyance at his younger brother. He turned back to face the Stag again, but the animal had fled.
"Where did he go?" Peter questioned, earning a shrug from Edmund. It was then that he spied a flash of white from the other side of the river, heading up the bank.
"The darn thing leaped across," Edmund said incredulously as Peter walked to the edge of the River, as if he had the will to pull the opposing bank closer.
"Well," Edmund sighed, crossing his arms in front of him and giving another shrug. "I guess I'll be waiting those four more years then."
Peter, unable to stay mad at his brother, laughed again.
"Perhaps by then you'll have your first mustache, eh, Ed?" he joked, walking over to his brother and clapping him on the back as they turned and walked back to their horses that they had saddled for the day, accompanied by their royal guard, headed by Orieus, the general and centaur.
"I'll have one before you do," Edmund replied, smirking. "Seventeen and still no peach fuzz?"
"A mustache, no. But a beard, yes," Peter replied, and it was true. Golden scruff was peppered across the High King's jawline and chin.
"Oh, please, Peter, that isn't a beard at all," said another voice and Peter looked up to see Lucy and Susan, the two Queens, riding towards their hunting party through the foliage.
"Sisters," Peter and Edmund said together as they bowed in unison. The two Queens bowed their heads in response and then Lucy hopped off her horse and ran up and into Peter's arms. He grunted once at her weight and then shifted so that he could carry her properly.
"Lu, you're twelve. Aren't you getting a little old for me to carry you?" he asked, reaching up and ruffling her hair. His youngest sister swatted his hand away.
"Maybe," she replied. "But you do it anyway." Peter chuckled at that, and in one fluid move, shifted her onto his back so that he could carry her that way, it was much easier. "Now, what was your problem with my beard?"
Lucy patted Peter's cheek. "No problem at all. It's just a baby one, is all."
"A baby beard for a mighty king!" Edmund exclaimed, laughing, and Susan pursed her lips from her position still astride her horse.
"Ed, be nice," she admonished, her eyes flashing a warning to her younger brother. Edmund just smirked at his sister and swung up onto his mount, Phillip. Peter helped Lucy back up onto hers and then got back onto Onyx, the black stallion he had chosen.
"He doesn't have to be nice, Su," Peter replied, smiling at the Gentle Queen. "He'll just have to receive payback sometime."
Susan and Lucy both rolled their eyes at this and then giggled, a joke between sisters. Peter and Edmund looked at them and then to each other, finding no answer.
"Orieus, will you please ride ahead with the guard?" Peter asked of the centaur who had ridden up to his side. His general nodded, bowing his head.
"Your Majesties," he said in parting, giving them a smile, before he rode ahead, ordering the guard to follow him. The four royals followed behind shortly after but didn't go fast. They wanted to have a chance to talk.
They had been riding back for about an hour when Orieus came riding back towards them. They greeted him warmly but stopped when they realized their general looked panicked. "What is it, friend?" Edmund asked of the centaur.
Orieus looked to Queen Lucy. "My Lady, do you have your cordial?"
"Always," Lucy responded, patting her belt that she wore around her that had a pouch and sheath for her cordial and dagger.
"We may have need of it. Come quickly!"
The royals kicked their horses into an immediate run, following Orieus to whatever was distressing him, hoping they weren't too late.