A/N: Hey guys! I'm back, and rewriting Pourquoi Moi for the second (and I swear, final) time. There are just a few kinks that I feel like I want to work out before I officially decide that this story's complete. For this chapter, I've basically condensed the first three, and added a correction here or there.


"We will rest here, milady. The horses are tired as well." The soldier held out an umbrella for Serena as she stepped out of the carriage and into the torrential rain.

"It seems we have no choice, corporal." She agreed, accepting his offered hand.

It was warm and dry inside the inn; and a murmur of friendly voices, some drunken, greeted the soldiers they were familiar with.

"Here, here." A burly man wearing a greasy apron hurried to hang Serena's cloak by the fire as he dusted a chair with the rag he clutched in his hands. She sat down gratefully, glad to be away from the loud, rattling cart.

"There's a noble lady dining with us t'night, so mind your manners." The tavern owner announced, gesturing at Serena, or more aptly, her fine silken gown. The men only gave her a momentary glance, deciding that their beer was more important after seeing that she wasn't the fair-haired beauty they had hoped for. A wizened old woman hobbled to her side, leaning on her cane and coughing pitifully.

"Are you alright, Grandmother?" Serena inquired pleasantly, choosing not to take her raggedy clothes or matted gray hair into account.

The old woman waved her question away with a gnarled hand. "Seems like it's all menfolk 'ere."

"A tavern certainly is not the place for women," She agreed, watching as a bar fight flared up in a corner. "especially this one."

"A humble cabin like this one, the King's salon, womenfolk don't belong in any of 'em."

Serena, who had ventured inside her father's "rooms" quite a few times agreed. "I'm afraid we must endure them in our travels." She said, trying to force the prospect of leaving home from her mind.

"Traveling, are we?" The woman held out her hand. "Let me see where your journey'll be leading you."

Rather reluctantly, Serena allowed the old woman to examine her palm. "I see a long road ahead, dear one."

"The Marble City and Narnia are quite far apart." She acknowledged.

"No, no, much longer."

Maybe a few detours, then.

"And many years too."

That wasn't too bad.

"You have left home unwillingly, and you are not to return."

Serena felt herself shudder. Leave the palace and its luxury, forever?

"You will wander aimlessly, for years greater than an empire."

That meant thousands.

"And in the end, you-" The old woman gave a hacking cough, and Serena thought she saw something shift in her eyes.

"Ah. Where was I?" She asked, as if she had not just delivered any grave news.

Serena opened her mouth, but no words came.

"Yes, yes." She squinted at her palm again. "I see long life, riches, and a handsome husband for you." She smiled, revealing crooked teeth. "A girl like you, she can't ask for more, can she?"

"Milady, the horses are ready." The corporal held up her cloak.

Serena stood up, feeling a shiver of something run through her body. Fear, uncertainty, and maybe, a little excitement.

The horses continued to plod throughout the night. Up front, the driver held the reins, making sure they trotted at a steady pace.

Inside, Serena crossed her arms, sitting on the floor of the carriage. This was the latest in many times she had been shaken out of her seat by the rattling of the cart just when she was about to fall asleep.

This just wasn't fair.

Being sent away "for her safety" was not one of those things she appreciated her father doing. Never mind that he had sent every suitor packing before she had even met them, or that he had firmly stuck to calling her "dear heart" and "my little dear" in front of diplomats from the world over. This was by far the worst thing he had done in all her sixteen years.

She shivered, the cold March winds blowing through the cracks of the wood making up the side wall of the carriage. Serena tried not to be shaken by the old woman's predictions, yet so far, her announcements of Serena's impending doom weren't helping her spirits in the slightest.

Serena may have fallen asleep then, sitting on the grimy, wet floor of her coach. She wasn't sure. But when she opened her eyes in what seemed like moments later, it was mid-morning.

Suddenly, the horses lurched to a stop. A medium-sized trunk stowed in the coach's upper shelf fell off, landing squarely on Serena's outstretched foot. She bit back a cry of pain, but she heard a few anyway, along with the clang of metal against metal.

They certainly weren't hers.

"Keep on movin' man!" Someone shouted at the driver. "Or you'll end up like th' lot of em'."

Just as suddenly as it stopped, the carriage began to move so quickly, Serena feared the wheels would break off. Ignoring the pain in her foot, she pressed herself tighter against the corner of the carriage. She closed her eyes, and after a moment's deliberation, peered outside the back window. Behind her, what looked to be half her escort chased after them, yelling for the driver to stop.

"Go, go, GO!" The same voice howled, "If you let 'em catch up, both you and th' rest o' your lot are dead!"

Serena knew far too well what was happening, even though her brain raced to find a logical, normal answer.

This wasn't part of her itinerary.


Edmund yawned heavily as he stretched in his chair. He had been down in Beruna, overseeing the beginning of another harvest. In the meanwhile, Peter had been given the keys to the royal treasury, and as far as Edmund was concerned, their finances were a mess. Nevermind that he had returned much of the unneeded goods to the grumbling merchants waiting by the docks, or that he had argued and haggled with the bakers over every loaf of bread that Peter and company had ordered, his brother's spending had created a large dip in their funds.

Nevermind that he was a King, and that Kings had no place in regulating the castle's finances. Edmund was quite sure that he was the steward, and Peter was the King.

He crossed out some numbers in the ledger, and wrote in the new sums. Edmund was quite sure that after all the work he had done, the treasury would stay balanced for at least the next month.

Right on cue, the door burst open.

"Forgot to tell you about the royal messenger." Peter announced nonchalantly.

"Which one," Edmund asked absently, going back to his work. "We employ over twenty."

"The one that King Oberon sent."

"Oberon?" Edmund repeated, still scribbling numbers into his ledger.

"Yeah. From Sarra."

Edmund snorted. "You mean Satarra. Honestly, Peter. Do you not know how to read maps?"

"Yeah, Satarra." Peter said, ignoring Edmund's snide remark. "He said his daughter'd be coming for a while."

"What?" The dot on Edmund's "i" became a hyphen. "When? Why?"

"Er, didn't say why, just seventeenth of March."

He consulted the star chart hanging on the wall. "That's tomorrow." He yelped.

"Yeah."

There was an awkward pause as Edmund (with difficulty) quashed the urge to strangle his older brother.

"The princess of Satarra is about to show up, entourage and all, and you haven't told me?"

"I put the letter on your desk!"

Edmund shuffled through the pile of papers in front of him, and pulled an envelope from the bottom of the stack.

"Yeah, that one." Peter said, pointing at the creamy parchment. "It's got the Satarran royal seal on it, see?"

"You don't say," Edmund muttered, reading it as quickly as he could. "How could you just tell me now?"

"Look, you're not the only busy one here. Maybe if your nose wasn't buried in a book all the time—"

The door burst open again.

"Oh. I thought I heard arguing…it's just you two. Again." One of the serving maids flushed pink and withdrew as quickly as she could.

Edmund slapped the letter back onto his desk, and grabbed his cloak.

"I'm going for a ride." He mumbled, sure that a few moment peace and quiet would help him figure out what to do.


The normally calm driver drove the horses on, and in his frenzy, neglected to let them rest for the night. Even from the back of the coach, Serena could clearly hear the pants of the tired team of Palominos. It was early afternoon now, she realized.

"The horses are tired, we can't go any further." He ventured feebly, sounding exhausted himself.

"Seems like we'll have to end here." Grunted the same voice from the datbefore.

Serena drew aside the curtain to see what was happening. In front of her, the horses had stopped, and the driver was nervously clutching the leather reins. They weren't anywhere near a castle, let alone a village. Serena frowned. End here? In the middle of the woods?

"Cair Paravel isn't too far away. I'd say, with an hour's rest, we will be able to get Her Highness there by nightfall."

"Didn't you 'ear me, you stupid bastard? We're ending here, and that includes the princess."

Serena drew in a breath, and quickly closed the curtain enough so that she could barely peer through the folds.

It was something she would regret.

Before she even had time to realize just how mistaken she was yesterday, a burly, crude looking man leapt towards the driver and slashed his throat with a dagger. Serena ducked below the window hurriedly, and grabbed a heavy, silver candlestick, which she jammed into the handle of the coach's door.

There. She was safe.

"Princess," The murderer said. "Would you like a breath of fresh air?"

Serena shivered and shook her head furiously, even though she knew he couldn't see. She tried to scurry as far away from the door as she could, shaking while cold sweat gathered in her palms. The door shook violently, and in a brief moment of triumph for Serena, the candlestick held. Outside, the man swore violently, and walked away.

There was movement from the other side of the carriage, and she hurried to get to the other side. Moments later, a spearhead burst from where, seconds ago, Serena's hand had been. There was a harsh ripping sound as he tore away at the lightweight boards, creating a large, gaping hole. Feeling behind her back, Serena tore the candlestick from its place, stuffing it into the largest pocket her cloak had. The man stuck his head in and grinned at her, baring his yellow, crooked teeth.

"There you are." He said, his dark eyes glinting with malice. He wormed through the hole, and grabbed her by the waist. Kicking away at some of the wood, he then proceeded to roughly throw her out of the coach, following after.

Serena stood up hurriedly, ignoring the pain in her ankle, brandishing her candlestick like a cudgel.

"Get back." She snapped, with more bravado than she felt. Looking around for the other guards, she realized, to her chagrin, that they were pointing their spear at her, not her attacker.

Surprised, she lowered the silver candlestick, but not completely.

"I have orders to finish this as quickly and painlessly as possibly, girlie." The man growled. "Put that down, and make it easier for yourself."

She shook her head, gripping the candlestick tighter.

"C'mon, sweetie. No one wants to hurt you more than they need to."

Serena stepped back, her heart racing.

The man threw a punch at her, landing her on the ground, thoroughly winded.

"See?" He asked. "Isn't it better to cooperate?" He gestured at the dead driver. "You don't want to end up like 'im."

Serena shook her head again, scrambling to get up. "You'll kill me anyway."

"There's nowhere to hide." The man said, ignoring her. "And you can't outrun us."

She almost lost her nerve, right there, with half a dozen spears pointed at her and nowhere to run but into a tree.

The candlestick dropped from her numb fingers, rolling away forlornly.

"That's better." The man breathed.

It's over, thought Serena.

And then it really was.


Edmund rode through the forest until both he and his horse needed a break. They slowed down, trotting leisurely through the forest. It was a peaceful day in Narnia's forests, and he could distinctly hear the distant calls of a mockingbird.

And then, the silence was broken. There was the sound of a scuffle, then of voices talking. Edmund sighed. Dwarves and their beer. Always the same problem. He ducked under a branch as he rode towards the general direction of the fight, making a mental note to raise the tax on beer.

Or maybe not. What he found was far from a drunken skirmish.

There were nearly half a dozen men, encircling a single figure. Upon closer inspection, the figure was a girl, younger than he was. Edmund didn't like the look of them, and the girl certainly didn't look like a criminal.

"Oi!" He shouted, not being able to think of anything better.

The men instantly turned around, looking for the source. Without even having to think about it, Edmund sat up taller in his saddle and made a grab for his sword, which, it turned out, wasn't very necessary. They fled, running as fast as their armored bodies could take them, leaving behind the meanest, burliest of the bunch.

"Private matter 'ere, no need to get involved." He grunted, attempting to wave Edmund away.

If he didn't get involved, Edmund decided, the girl was as good as dead. She must have agreed, because while the man was preoccupied, she attempted to sidle away from him. The man's hand shot out, and grabbed her back with a low growl from him and a distressed cry from her.

"I'm sure it could be settled differently." Edmund said, as pleasantly as he could. The girl shot him a dour glare, as if it was the stupidest suggestion she'd ever heard. Judging by the look of the man, she was probably right.

"If you don't leave, I'll make ye." The man told him, brandishing a fist.

"I suppose you could." Edmund acknowledged. If the man was that thick, then helping the girl would be even easier than he'd expected.

"I'm not stupid." He growled. "I've orders to kill the girl first. Maybe if you weren't so high and mighty on that horse ye'd be able to stop me."

He turned around to face the girl, and Edmund saw the unmistakable glint of sharpened steel in his hand. So he threw at the man whatever he happened to have on hand. Which happened to be his sword.


The sword ripped through her attacker's mail shirt, splattering Serena's skirt and gown with blood. Biting back a surprised scream, she looked around for her savior. He had already dismounted, and was headed towards her, a deep frown etched into his face. He pulled his sword out of the man's back, ignoring a moan from the dying man.

"You seem to have gotten into a spot of trouble." He observed, looking her up and down.

"I didn't do anything." She blurted, hoping it didn't sound suspicious.

He looked at her for a long while. "I'm sure you didn't." He said, not sounding like he did at all. "Let's go."

He cut one of the horses free from Serena's carriage, a spirited mare named Dancer (Or at least that was what the carriage driver called her) and held out the reins for Serena.

"I'm not riding that. She's a cart horse." She said, outraged.

"You can walk or ride, it's your choice." He snapped back, his frown deepening.

Grumbling, Serena jammed her foot into the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle. She wasn't even entirely sure what had happened, or where he was taking her, for that matter.

"How about my things?" She asked, with half a mind to go retrieve her candlestick.

"I'll send someone to get them." He said, not even looking at her.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, Serena throwing him dirty looks the whole time.

Her father was going to hear about this, make no mistake. In a way, she reflected, it could be a good thing. Maybe Papa would change his mind and call her back to Satarra if she sent him a nice list of reasons as to why she hated Narnia. One, attacked by a bunch of louts. Two, Narnians happen to be offensively rude.

They passed through a set of wrought-iron gates, and stopped in the courtyard. The Narnian castle was smaller than she'd expected, but strangely much more inviting than any of her father's palaces.

"Cair Paravel," He announced, sounding not entirely glad to be there.

The gates behind them clattered closed. He dismounted and casually sauntered up to one of the guardsmen. "Tell Peter to send a squadron down to the woods, a bit upstream from the Boulders."

"Yessir." The guard said, hurrying inside the castle.

"Now," He said, turning towards Serena. "What are you doing in Narnia?"

"I'm not running from the law, you know," She snapped back. "You don't have to think I deserved to be attacked by those goons."

He raised his eyebrows. "Jumpy, are we?"

"Don't you have any idea who I am?" She asked angrily, clambering down from the horse.

His eyes flitted towards the royal crest sewn onto her horse's saddle. "Yes." He said flatly.

"Good, because I'd like you to know that I don't even want to be here."

"Do you think I invited you?"

"I wouldn't have accepted it anyway." She crossed her arms. Her ankle hurt even worse now, and Serena knew that the first thing she would do when she ran into any of the Kings or Queens was to let them know that they had the most imperiously obnoxious guardsmen.

"Your father's the one who sent me a request, remember?"

He looked really young for a king.

Behind Serena, one of the serving maids tittered slightly, and Serena opened her mouth to tell the girl off. Luckily for her, a blondish man appeared from one of the side doors. He was wearing a heavy crown, and there was a sizable amount of likeness between him and his brother.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Princess." He said, giving her an endearing smile. "Your apartments are ready. I've sent some men to go pick up your things." He led her away from the courtyard, inquiring about her trip.

Edmund didn't follow.


"Ask her for the next dance," Susan hissed, poking Edmund in the ribs. "It's only polite."

"How about no?" He asked, taking a gulp of whatever was in his cup (some naiad had insisted on filling it, and he had no idea what the amber colored liquid was).

"Ed!"

"There are a million ladies there. By the time I even get into her immediate vicinity, it'll be summer."

"That's what 'excuse me' is for." Susan said, glaring at her. "C'mon, it's her welcoming ball."

Muttering darkly, he put down his goblet and walked towards her.

There was a chorus of "good evening"s and "your majesty"s, to which Edmund was only all too happy to ignore.

"May I?" He asked quietly, extending his hand.

Serena decided to save face for the both of them, and wordlessly took his hand.

"Alright there?" He inquired.

"Yes." She said stiffly.

There was silence for a while. "Your father had you sent here for your safety, you know."

"Well that didn't work, did it?"

"Those soldiers were your own." He pointed out. "They had the royal crest sewn onto their backs."

Inadvertently, she gripped his hand tighter. "There has to be some mistake."

"I don't think so." He said, lowering his voice. "You started with an escort of twenty, Princess. I only saw seven."

"I don't know what happened, if that's what you're getting at."

"Something must have happened. Surely you know."

"Me? Know? So seven of my men decide to try to kill me. What do I have to do with this?"

"Everything." He said. "Someone must have sent them."

Serena shivered, not liking the frankness of this conversation. "They mentioned that they had orders. To kill me."

"Is that all?" He asked, obviously irritated. "I just told you they were sent."

"Yes that's it." She snapped, pushing him away. "Leave me alone."


A/N: Ehhhhhhh...that's about all...but by the way, in "The Horse and His Boy" Aravis uses the words "shut up", so I can use it too! (And so can you)