A/N: This is my first venture into "Narnia" fanfiction. My parents read the books to me countless times when I was little, and I've read them on my own more than once. I saw "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" seven times in theaters. Seven. I only saw "Prince Caspian" twice. Mr. Tumnus and Lucy were always my favorite characters, both in the books and in the movies. So I decided to write this "Caspian" one-shot.

Note: Based off the movie, not the book.

Disclaimer: C.S. Lewis owns the characters of Narnia.


Queen Lucy the Lonely

Lucy Pevensie was lonely.

It was hard to imagine her, the youngest and most cheerful of her siblings, feeling anything but elated now that she had returned to Narnia. For the past year, Lucy alone had retained absolute faith that one day the magical land would find them again. She had not forgotten what Professor Kirk told her – "It will probably happen when you least expect it."

And Lucy had not been expecting it when at last it had come, though her heart had been wishing all along she might once more find herself in the country of which she was a queen.

But, naively, perhaps…she had always envisioned that her return would be as if she had never left. Part of her had expected that she would be a young woman again, as she was when she and her siblings had unwittingly stumbled upon the lamppost and tumbled out of the wardrobe back into England. The other part of her reasoned that maybe she would still be a little girl - but either way, only a year would have gone by in Narnia, as on Earth.

She knew she should have known better – after all, the two worlds did not run on the same time.

Still…thirteen hundred years.

Lucy huddled on the Stone Table. Her heart was with Peter, Susan, and Edmund, as well as Caspian and all of the others who had left to storm Miraz's castle that night. She'd wanted to accompany them; but of course she was too small. The others had agreed absolutely that she was safer here, at the How.

Her mind, however, was far away from the place…

A single tear slipped down Lucy's cheek as Mr. Tumnus's face swam into her mind. He had been her closest companion in Narnia from the very first time she entered the world to the day she left it. Always patient, always kind, always there. His smiles could warm Lucy's heart on even the coldest occasions.

And now he was dead. Long dead. And Lucy had not been there.

She couldn't help feeling as though she had abandoned him. Although the Pevensies had not meant to leave Narnia, they had– leaving it to be overrun by the Telmarines.

Lucy missed the Narnia that had been. The Narnia where the trees danced and talked to each other; where all creatures lived in harmony and there were great parties and celebrations, and Cair Paravel was filled with gaiety, and warm evenings were spent beneath the stars…and the fauns played the music Tumnus once described so lovingly.

That was Narnia at its most wonderful. Even Caspian said that the legends called the Reign of High King Peter the Golden Age. A very brief age, to be sure, but a joyful one.

But everyone who had enjoyed those years was dead, and their descendants were left to deal with the conflicts now.

For a moment, Lucy almost understood why Susan was happy to be in Narnia "while it lasts." For it seemed to Lucy as though they were present in Narnia only to assist in the looming war. When Narnia no longer needed them – for Lucy would not, could not, entertain the thought of losing to the Telmarines – they would undoubtedly be sent home.

Even with this sad thought, and the sad thoughts of Tumnus and the years gone by, Lucy did not want to leave Narnia. She loved the world and everything about it.

She loved Aslan.

Why none of the others had seen the Lion atop the cliff that day, Lucy did not understand. She still believed it was because, perhaps, they did not want to see him. Though how this could be, Lucy couldn't fathom.

Aslan was Narnia. And Narnia was Aslan. The two could not be separated. Even when Aslan had not been there with the four royals during their reign at Cair Paravel, Lucy had always sensed his presence. He was taking care of them from afar.

Lucy looked over her shoulder at the wall behind her, at the lion carved out of the stone.

Her fingers closed over her flask of fireflower juice, and she turned it over in her hands, frowning.

How many would need its aid before this war would end?


A/N: I realize Lucy may have seemed a bit mature for a girl of her age, but I always thought Lucy could often be more mature than any of her older siblings, so it seemed to work for this one. Review?