He was near.
Years of living beneath the earth had sharpened every sense, given her an awareness which far surpassed anything mortals possessed.
A triumphant smile played about her lips as she rose in one fluid motion, eyes already fastening on the path from which his horse would emerge.
This was where it had begun, this pleasant forest glade where she had tasted the power of death.
For a moment her focus wavered, and she allowed herself to taste afresh the remembered glory of the kill.
It had been easy for her to assume the form of a serpent the color of jade, to slip unnoticed by the prince and his courtiers through the grass until she lay next to the Narnian queen.
Grim joy had filled her soul as she struck the death blow, knowing that the prince would seek vengeance for the death of his mother.
So she had waited every day since, confident that Rilian would come.
She had been drawn to this place from her dark kingdom, not for its beauty or the music of the fountain which played at its center, but for something far more precious.
It was the color alone which had called her here, lent her strength as she wove her spell of seduction about the young prince.
She had always favored green. Such a simple word, and yet it contained a wealth of meaning. This was why this place had seemed so right for what she was about to do, for it offered tantalizing glimpses of the many facets of the color she adored.
The leaves spoke of life, of strength and the promise of renewal.
The cool green of emerald and jade was also here; in each blade of grass and the color of the gown she had carefully chosen for this final meeting before returning to her realm.
At her throat flashed the dark fire of emeralds set in gold, and her raven tresses were held back by a delicate circlet of silver.
Tall, majestic and beautiful, she was a queen more than ready to claim her knight.
Excitement coursed through her veins as the prince's horse approached.
This was the fourth day he had come to stand in silent awe, as she filled his thoughts with visions of conquest, pleasure and the riches of the earth which were hers to bestow.
Once he had come with a friend, a man of honor loyal to Narnia and Aslan.
Her power could not touch him, for he did not possess the desire for vengeance, or the impetuosity of youth which had driven the young prince to pursue his mother's slayer.
One glimpse of this noble lord and she knew she had nothing to fear. He would not speak of her to the king, his friendship and sense of honor would command his silence more affectively than any spell she could weave.
Even if he told all, by the time he chose to speak the young prince would be in her realm where none in Narnia could hope to venture.
She was prepared for any foolish knights or heroes who would go questing for their prince.
If they did not fall victim to the bitter winter's chill of Ettinsmoor, there were always the giants who would welcome fresh meat.
And if those methods failed and by some good fortune they reached her realm, she had more than enough magic to ensure they would never return to the world above.
Yes, the magic of her voice, combined with the strength of flame and the power of emeralds crushed and ground by the creatures she had bound to despair was a power which could not help but work.
Only Aslan gave her cause to worry.
Even in her kingdom she had heard tales of his greatness, felt the living reality of a power which far surpassed her own.
That one glimpse had terrified her, because it forced her to give unwilling praise and acknowledgement of the lion's lordship over all she had fought to possess.
But for now she would set such disquieting thoughts aside. Her prince was near, and if by some miracle he was destined to some day take up the mantle of king over this land she would see to it that such a time would not come for many years hence.
The young prince rode into the glade; eyes alight with curiosity and the growing flames of desire.
The horse was an easy conquest, its will swiftly molded to her own by a soft word of command.
Then she was gliding forward, every move as sensual and graceful as the serpent she could become with a thought.
Slender fingers rested for an instant upon the prince's brow, as she began her spell of binding.
In a moment it was done.
Thoughts and will, body and soul, all were now hers to do with as she pleased.
She spoke of her kingdom, of its riches and the respect he would have as its prince. Tales of her divinity, of the power she wielded and the plans for a nation's destruction were all whispered to his heart.
Eager to return to her realm, she began the task of forging his armor, not by the help of flame, but power dark and born of the pain and violence of war.
A murmured command and his armor was ready, the color of a night devoid of stars.
She alone would know what lay beneath the featureless visor.
Her eyes alone would watch as he fought and at last surrendered to the enchantments she had crafted to bind and entrap him in her kingdom.
Summoning her power she beckoned the prince forward, and at her command the earth opened to receive them.
No longer would he be Rilian son of King Caspian, a prince of Narnia and servant of Aslan.
He would be her green knight, her dark prince the means by which she would see the land of Narnia made her own forever.
Note from the authoress: This short piece is the answer to a challenge posted on .
The challenge requirements were to write a fic that focuses on color, as both a theme and title for the story.
As for my title, inspiration came from Arthurian legends, and the poem Sir Gawain and The Green Knight.
This story could also be considered a companion piece to chapter 20 of Remember The Four, to be posted soon.
I hope you enjoyed this look into the Queen of Underland's mind, and would as always love feedback.