Disclaimer: everything is owned by C.S. Lewis except for my made-up characters

A/N: Alrighty...so, random idea I got in the middle of the night. Not sure if being sick added to the insanity of writing this, but hey, might as well go for it and see what happens, right? (grins)

This is different from my usual, since, as you know, I'm in the process of writing a Narnia fic from Edmund's POV.

Well, I decided to try this little idea out. However, I wanted to reassure all of you wonderful readers that Tara will not be a Mary-Sue (I am very much against MS) though I'm not perfect, so please go easy on me ;) and also, this is NOT, I repeat, NOT a romance fic. My intent of writing this story is to give you a fantastic adventure with some people you'll know, like the Pevensies, but they are not the main focus of this.

As always, your reviews, comments, suggestions, ideas, fav parts/characters are extremely welcomed and very much appreciated!

Farian's Plan

The 1st Day of Month Shino

Diary, I think I've made a royal mess of things. I can't seem to get anything straight! My tutor is going spare and so am I. There are just far too many customs and courtesies and a whole lot of codswallop to go around! I know Mother and Father wish me to be just like Sofia but I just don't see how that's possible. She's the graceful, beautiful, kind, loving first-born princess. And I'm just me. Tara. Nobody special. I can see the disappointment in Mother and Father's eyes when they look at me, though they try their hardest not to show it. I had to give a speech today at the banquet and I was so nervous! I made a ruddy mess of things today at the banquet and it was supposed to be the day I was introduced into society. I don't want to imagine what they thought of me…the royal family of the Seven Isles. They're so proper and so fair-looking. I know, Diary, I'm complaining and I really shouldn't. I have more than most people have but it doesn't make anything easier. We're holding a tournament come the end of Snowmelt and Father has made it quite clear that I'd better be ready to do my duty as princess. I don't wish to think about what will happen if I'm not. Royalty from all over will be coming to the tournament - from the Seven Isles, Galma, Narnia, Archenland, and others I can't even remember at this moment. I'll bid you goodnight, Diary, for I hear footsteps and I have no doubt it's Sofia. She'll probably chide me yet again on writing in a Diary, saying it's childish and I should grow up. I sometimes wish there was some way to get away from all this…but that's for dreams and dreams only.

Tara quickly shut her black, leather-bound diary and stuffed it between her grammar books, successfully hiding it from prying eyes. She reached across the desk and tugged over a fat book on politics, flipping it open to a random page just as the door to her chambers opened and her eighteen-year old sister, Sofia, strode in.

"You do realise, Tara dear, that by hiding away in your room for all hours of the day, it does not look good in society," chided Sofia, brushing some of her long, dark curls out of her face. She pursed her lips and Tara thought she looked rather like a fish, but said nothing, chuckling inwardly.

Instead, Tara said, "I'm not like you, Sofia. I can't stand banquets, I hate dancing and I can't speak in front of anyone without feeling ill. Society is just not made for clumsy, tongue-tied people like me."

"You merely need to try harder, Tara. It's simple as that," said Sofia as she sat down gracefully upon a chair near Tara's desk.

"You don't think I try?" said Tara, arching an eyebrow. "Sofia, I spilled the wine all over King Feldhliem at the banquet today! And to top it off, I nearly dropped the main course on Prince Rouffian."

Sofia waved it off with a simple brush of her hand. "Tara, dear, accidents happen."

"Only around me. I'm an accident waiting to happen," muttered Tara, shooting a glare at her politics book and then shoving it away. She sighed and ran a hand through her dark hair. "Is Father mad at me, Sofia? He wouldn't speak to me after the banquet."

"I don't think he's angry with you, Tara. He was simply too busy, what with King Feldhliem asking all those questions about the royal estates and other trifles. Nothing a princess needs to be concerned about." Sofia stood and walked over to Tara, touching her chin, forcing Tara eyes to meet Sofia's. Sofia sighed. "If only you were as pretty as me, then things would be so much easier. You should really try to work on that." Sofia turned and walked towards the door. "Goodnight, sister. Oh –" Sofia glanced back at her, "- and do try not to be seen in your muddy clothes again tomorrow. We are trying to make a good impression on our guests and you strutting about with a sword on your hip and dressed in un-ladylike clothing isn't exactly proper." Sofia walked out, shutting the door behind her.

Tara let out a cry of frustration and threw one of her grammar books at the door. It hit the oaken door with a loud 'thud' and dropped to the ground. She is so frustrating! She thinks she's so bloody perfect. We used to be able to talk all the time but now she's far too grown up for her own good! Nothing's good enough for her and she has the gall to say those things to me!

She put her face in her hands, still quite frustrated, and then stood, storming over to her full-length, oval mirror. She crossed her arms over her chest, gazing at her reflection. Her black hair reached just below her shoulders but it was so curly that it looked more like a frizzy mess than anything decent. She hated wearing her hair up (which she had to do during all formal occasions) and when she had returned to her room after the banquet, she had immediately taken it down, which resulted in it looking more like a wild bush. Her face was long and thin, a trait she had in common with her Aunt Teshia. Her nose was a bit too large and her skin wasn't even close to the flawless, ivory features of her older sister. Overall, she was just an average-looking girl, but obviously people expected her to be some sort of raving beauty, as if this was a requirement of being a princess. She thought it was codswallop, all of it. Her dark eyes narrowed as she frowned. I don't see what she thinks is so great about being so beautiful. It's more work than it's worth! Besides, what does beauty have to do with being successful?

Turning, she walked into her bedroom and changed into dark-brown pants and a matching, long-sleeved tunic. Then she pulled on a thick cloak for warmth. Khoran, the stable master's apprentice, had given her these clothes in exchange for her teaching him proper banquet etiquette. His father didn't exactly approve of him being an apprentice in the stables, but Khoran appeased him by being quite presentable to society. His family was close to hers and they had been best friends since she was young.

Tugging on her soft, black boots, she slipped out of her chambers and took the back way down to the stables, not wanting to run into her family nor any of their guests. She hurried down several flights of stairs and had almost made it outside when she tripped over a loose flagstone and fell to her hands and knees. Brilliantly done, Tara, she thought sarcastically with a sigh, hauling herself to her feet. A loud 'crash!' made her jump and spin to see a suit of armor lying in pieces on the stone floor. She heard voices and, not sticking around to get caught, Tara ran towards the door, unbolting it and shoving it open, hurrying out into the cold, night air. She quickly shut the door and began making her way across the moonlit grounds, heading down the sloping hill to the stables. She glanced behind her, hearing a twig snap, and then suddenly hit something soft. Her eyes widened in surprise as she recognised her fourteen-year old, twin brother, Farian.

"Farian!" she hissed. "What are you doing out here?"

"I should be asking you the same thing," smirked Farian but then he chuckled. "Don't be so tense, Tara." He clapped her on the shoulder. "Heading out to the stables, as usual?"

"Don't I always?" she retorted lightly, smiling a little.

"Yes, which is why I was waiting for you."

"Waiting for me?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Farian nodded. "I need your help."

Tara crossed her arms across her chest. "Farian, I am not helping you with another one of your pranks! We nearly got caught the last time and Father will have both our heads if he finds out."

Farian laughed. "Don't get your knickers into a twist, Tara. It's nothing like that."

"Oh, then what is it?" Farian had something up his sleeve, she was sure of it, but she wasn't quite sure she wanted to know.

"Follow me." Farian took her hand and led her into the stables, near one of the empty stalls. He glanced around and then turned to look at her. "Father wants to send me to the Narnia to train with their pages, since they are reputed to have the best program in these parts. It would only be for a few years and then I would return here to be a squire."

"And I fit into this…how?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I want you to go in my place. At least until the tournament."

Tara blinked, staring at her brother, gobsmacked. Perhaps I didn't hear him right… "Pardon me?" she managed.

"You heard me." He grinned. "It'd be perfect. I know how much you want to fight but you're not allowed because you're a girl and you're not supposed to be doing those sorts of things. Just think of it! This is the perfect opportunity, Tara!"

"One problem, Farian. Mother and Father will notice if I suddenly go missing for a few months."

"No, they won't." Farian's eyes twinkled with a look that made Tara's stomach twist. He always got that look in his eyes when he had thought up a particularly good scheme. "I've already spoken with Princess Shaloa and she'll provide the cover you need. No one in Narnia has met you or me yet. Last year when Mother and Father visited Narnia, we couldn't go, remember? Nor the year before that when we were away on the sea voyage with Lord Dar of Archenland. They say that the monarchs in Narnia are around our ages and while I wouldn't mind meeting them, I managed to get into this program on Galma for healing and scholar studies." Farian placed his hands on Tara's shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Please, Tara. I really want to do this. I've got it all worked out, it's flawless. You and I will go to Galma, with the intention of you staying with Princess Shaloa and me taking the ship to Narnia. Except I'll be the one staying on Galma and you'll be going to Narnia! Think about it, Tara! This will be brilliant! There's supposedly talking animals in Narnia! My study program only lasts until a month after the tournament and then I'll be able to prove to Mother and Father that I'm a fantastic Healer and Scholar and they'll have to let me get further training. Then we won't have to worry about doing any more page training."

"This – this is crazy, Farian! I can't believe you honestly think that we could pull this off!"

"But we can, don't you see? They've never met us. They won't be able to tell you're my sister and not me."

"There are a few issues concerning the fact that I am a girl, Farian. It's not possible for me to be you!" As much as I would love to do this…no, Tara! Get it together! You can't honestly believe that this is a good plan!

"Oh but it is. Everyone already thinks you're more of a chap than a girl anyhow," teased Farian.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes and hitting him lightly on the chest. "Did the thought cross your mind that there are going to be Archenlanders there helping to train the pages? And they have certainly met us before."

"Not for over a year, Tara and it'll mostly be the Narnians doing the training," grinned Farian.

"And Lord Dar? He knows us quite well."

"He won't be there. He's tied up with business in Archenland."

"Do I want to know how you know all this?" she asked, her eyebrows arched.

"Probably not." Farian laughed. "Anyhow, everyone always mistakes you for me when you're in those clothes. This won't be any different."

It was true that Tara was often mistaken for Farian when she was tending to the horses but still…this plan was ridiculous and foolish and…and, as she thought about it, actually quite brilliant. She had to admire her brother for thinking it all out.

She ran over the plan in her head, trying to see if he had missed anything.

"And when are you supposed to be leaving for Narnia?"

"Tomorrow."

"TOMORROW?"

He quickly clapped a hand over her mouth as the horses whinnied and shifted restlessly in their stalls. "Shh, you want to let everyone hear you?" he whispered.

When he removed his hand, she hissed, "Tomorrow? Are you mad, Farian?"

"Princess Shaloa already knows we're coming and she'll be able to help you with getting ready to take my place. We'll be on Galma for a few days before my ship is supposed to depart for Narnia."

"How long, exactly, have you been planning this? And how does she know already? What if I hadn't agreed to do this?"

"So you've agreed to help me," he said with a grin.

"I didn't – oh bloody hell," she cursed, hitting her forehead with the palm of her hand. And there I go letting my mouth run away with me again. Think before I speak! Idiot. "That's not the point, right now." She narrowed her gaze at him. "How did you know I would accept?"

"I've been speaking with Princess Shaloa for over a month, ever since I found out about the page program."

"A month!"

"Yes, now hush. Do you want to know how I knew you'd accept, or not?"

"Go on."

"Easy. You would never let an adventure like this pass you by." He grinned. "I knew you'd agree, dear sister."
She sighed, shaking her head, but she knew he was right. Besides, now she'd be able to fight with a sword without being chided constantly by Sofia and frowned upon by the court. There was still the problem of her looking like a girl, but she hoped that Princess Shaloa knew what she was doing.

"I know," she muttered and he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Thank you!" He pulled back, still grinning. "Now we need to have your servants pack everything you'll need while you supposedly stay with Princess Shaloa. They already have all of my things ready for Narnia."

"You are mad, did I mention that?" asked Tara, shaking head.

"Of course," said Farian, laughing. "But that's the brilliancy of it. If I wasn't mad, I would think up plans like this!" He hugged her quickly and grabbed her hand, dragging her back towards the castle.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as he pulled her along side him.

"Back to my chambers where I can teach you how to act like a chap. You already do so I don't think it'll be that hard, but you could use some pointers," he said with a wink.

Yes, I know, short, but this is the prologue to give you a taste of what's to come (grins)

Hopefully you've enjoyed it so far, you know I'd love to hear your thoughts.

I will make a note that this co-exists with my story, The Way Things Are, so any names you know from that story, are the same people here. Like Lord Dar, Sirrian, etc. (oops, did I give something away? hehe) (whistles innocently)

Something to help clear up any confusion you might have about this page program. This is set four years after the Hundred Year Winter and Narnia and Archenland have banded together to make this program near Glasswater. Centaurs are very skilled fighters and their abilities have become renown, hence why this page program has become so popular. Though technically in history pages have started out younger than fourteen, I've made that my base year, since they're only pages for two years and then they go on to become squires.

As I mentioned before, my goal is to give you an adventure story, not centered around romance, so you don't have to worry about that (winks)

Let me know what you think! And let me know any ideas you have of what could happen or things you'd like to see happen (grins)

Btw, if you would be ever so kind as to be nice to me about this...since it is my first fic of this nature, I would be eternally thankful. (hands out Turkish Delight to bribe everyone) (grins)