A/N: This is a part in a series of short stories documenting the story of Prince Caspian through the eyes of each of the Pevensie siblings. Each Pevensie will tell the story of two events, and each event will be split into two chapters. This is chapter one of the first event seen through Queen Lucy's eyes.

I really hope you all enjoy this! This series is the first fan fic I've ever posted, so I'm eager to hear your thoughts. I'd like to know whether I should continue writing and posting these :)

Also, thanks so much to you all who read and reviewed my first part of this series: Threshold. Only up one day and already you guys are making me smile :)

Of course, I own nothing. This all belongs to Disney, Walden Media, and of course, the wonderful mind of CS Lewis. Thanks

STORY TWO: LITTLE

CHAPTER ONE: COMFORT

AS SEEN THROUGH THE EYES OF QUEEN LUCY THE VALIANT

I hugged them all tightly before they left. Peter's hug was weak, and a bit distracted. He'd always been such a comfort, but now his eyes were drifting worriedly to the troops that waited just outside Aslan's How, with Caspian in the front. I pressed myself further into Peter's chest in an attempt to get his arms to tighten around me.

"Just remember..." I mumbled into his jerkin. I wasn't quite sure what I was saying, but I hopd he understood. The way he faintly muttered "I will," as he continued to look off into the distance convinced me that he probably didn't. But right before he walked to meet Caspian, he bent down to gently pat my cheek, and that made me feel a little better. I watched his departing back with tears in my eyes until I felt a new pair of arms draw me in.

In a hug that was completely different from Peter's, Edmund pulled me into a desperate embrace. Just one Earth year ago, Ed had hated hugging, but now he was pouring out a comfort to me that I could hardly understand. He blew a shaky breath from his nose and into my hair as he rested his cheek against the top of my head. The comfort I was feeling soon turned to an ache of dread in my stomach. Edmund was afraid of something, and since neither of my brothers ever feared for themselves, I could only imagine that he was sensing something the rest of us couldn't.

Susan finally broke the moment by placing her hands softly on both our shoulders. As my brother walked slowly to stand with Peter, Sue's turn came. Her hug was quiet and calming, as would be expected from the Gentle Queen. Her padded armor felt rough against my face, but I held on nonetheless.

I was almost crying when I said, "Keep an eye on those boys for me..." She softly promised me she would, before grinning in her smugly intelligent way, giving my hand a squeeze, and following our brothers to the troops. Trumpkin was standing with them already, and even in the dying light I could see him offer me a calloused grin and a tiny wave before turning away. Somehow that made me feel the happiest I'd felt all evening.

The Narnians marched determinedly from the How, towards the forest's edge. The Gryffins, who would later carry Pete, Ed, and Sue to Miraz's castle were soaring just above the treetops, for at the moment, that task belonged to the Talking Horses of Narnia. Their broad backs of custard, dapple grey, and chestnut shone in the setting sun; only my royal siblings were considered truly worthy to sit upon those backs.

As the band of warriors vanished into the forest, I heard a frightened breath released behind me. It was the centaur Glenstorm's wife. The wind was tossing her wavy, ebony hair across her stony face as she too watched her family become swallowed by the dusk and the trees. Her mate and her brother followed nobly just behind their Kings and Queen.

I reached out my hand to grab hers, and the second our fingers intertwined I felt a painful lump lodged in my throat. I didn't know what to say. I was Queen Lucy, the Valiant-- monarch of the Golden Age. But I could say nothing. The two of us stayed there, just outside the How, long after the rest of the Narnians had returned underground. I'm not sure how long it was, but the stars were bright by the time we decided to go in.

I needed to see Aslan, and the closest I could get was his carved likeness behind the Stone Table. The room was empty when I got there, but it didn't feel empty. I could still hear my siblings' voices echoing off the stone walls, and as I sat with my back against the Table, I could almost feel Aslan's thick mane against my cold cheek.

I took my healing cordial from my belt, running my fingers over the golden design, and trying not to think of them-- soaring through the dark sky and into Miraz's waiting grasp. It was terrible waiting here. I'd once been a grown Queen. A woman of stature, with a tired face a, a bow on my shoulder, and a dagger in my hand. I'd been in battle. I'd killed beside my brothers. But now I was little Lucy again, and little Lucy waited. Maybe Peter was hoping I'd find something here... maybe he hadn't truly given up hope after all.

I drifted to sleep while looking into the carving of Aslan's watchful eyes. It was a restless sleep, peppered with images of lampposts and dancing fires. Of Peter's face when I objected to his plan of storming Miraz's castle. Of Susan's smile. And of Edmund's arms, pushing me away in the snow, and then pulling me back tightly in the light of the evening.

It was the kind of sleep where I didn't even realize I was sleeping, until the horn sounded from outside my sanctuary.