Emma Hollingsworth thought that being practical was one of her best features (alongside her beauty, wit, smartness, etc...). If it wasn't for that, the (im)mature nineteen-year-old would've still been crying her pretty hazel eyes out inside that darned Narnian cell. Well, she was still inside... but closer to liberty than before.

"I still don't see what the big deal was," she murmured to herself. She was using a stray spoon she found in a corner to dig out a hole near the wall. "It was just a small, heart-shaped trinket. Nobody would've bought it from that stand at the price it was at. I did him a favor by robbing it!"

Ah, Emma. Rich, beautiful, sophisticated... and a complete kleptomaniac. Her father, Mr. Arnold Hollingsworth, was a rich merchant from Archenland. For the first time ever, he'd brought his daughter along in a business trip. This time, the trip was to the 'marvelous' Narnia, which really, Emma saw as the most idiotic thing ever. The talking animals made it all look so inelegant, the stands in the street didn't have a single fashionable thing, the people were too nice (had they ever heard of minding their own business?), and worst of all, the authorities weren't easily fooled.

Four hours ago, she was walking down a merchant street, trying to find anything pretty or useful at the stands. But she had not seen anything... until a twinkle to her right caught her eye. She could see it was a silver trinket, in the shape of a heart. The longer she gazed at it, that feeling of want bubbled inside her. She needed to feel that trinket in her hands, she needed to take it without anyone finding out. That rush of feeling that sored inside her whenever she stole something was more than amazing. So, she simply had to make her way through the herds of people in the street and reach that stand. She just had to wait for the merchant to turn around, so she could steal that trinket. And for a while, she could hold it in her hand, feeling the familiar weight of a stolen item in her hand. But some stupid centaur watching the area just had to catch her, and imprison her in some dirty, smelly and humid cell.

But she could not let her father find out about her ways. He'd definitely take away her privileges, and never ever take her to another trip (she was still waiting for the day he'd take her to the magnificent Tashbaan). So, after realizing that the cell walls leading to the back garden of the Cair Park, or whatever the castle's name was, was as weak as a clump of dry soil, she found a spoon and began to dig an area near the wall. She was building her escape route.

For the first time ever, she didn't care that her golden-brown locks of hair were dirty with mud, or that her face was smeared with dust. And let's not forget about the soil in her nails. But this was an emergency, so she had to leave her ladylike manners behind.

Once a ray of light penetrated from a hole under the wall, excitedly, she peaked her head through the small window on top of her. That garden was completely empty. She smiled, lowering her head. Picking up her spoon, she resumed her digging. Until...

Clomp, clomp. Clomp, clomp.

"Darn it," she whispered, before hiding the spoon and sitting in front of her work. She buried her dirty face in her hands, pretending to sob.

She could already feel the eyes of the centaur on her. She shuddered, still not used to the idea of a man with a body of a horse walking around as if it was nothing.

That foolish creature had made her job trying to escape hard. Every time she'd made process, that prison guard would show up around her cell area.

Clomp, clomp. Clomp, clomp.

Peaking from an opening in her fingers, she realized he was finally leaving. After the centaur was out of sight and earshot, she continued her job. However, this time, she simply used her hands to remove pieces from the wall. Like she said, the wall near the floor could crumble like bread. She wished she could leave a note behind, warning the Narnians, but she didn't have any paper or pen to write on. Emma smirked when she'd made a hole big enough for her to fit in.

"Thank God for my petite frame," she whispered with excitement as she crawled through the hole.

Once her palms felt the prickly sensation of green grass, she giggled, proud of herself. If it had been any other girl from Archenland, they would've still been crying inside that hole Narnians called a prison. And that's more than accurate, because all their heads were filled with stupid fantasies about their prince charming. As if Emma should be thinking of those idiocies. Men should be thinking about her being their princess charming, not the other way around. After all, an intelligent girl like Emma only deserved-

Her head bumped into something hard –as hard as someone's knees.

She fell back, and realized that two people were in front of her. With wide eyes, she slowly gazed up. The sun couldn't let her see clearly, but she could make out the shape of two faces looking down at her. One was of a goat man (she believed their name was faun), and the other was a man. A handsome man. Sunkissed skin, golden hair, a nice-looking splatter of freckles across his face, defined jaw and a nice pair of dark brown eyes.

And then she remembered.

Girls in Archenland had described King Edmund the Just the exact same way.

Gasping, she jumped up to her feet. "Are you King Edmund the Just?"

The boy seemed shocked as he gazed at Emma's dirty presence. "Yes."

Emma's mouth dropped open, and she quickly bowed her head down, forgetting all her ladylike manners. She'd already done that when she'd so bluntly questioned the king's identity. As she looked down at her feet, she realized with horror that her dark blue skirt was soaked in brown mud. That was not the way she was supposed to meet a king. Shutting her eyes close, she tried to regain her composure. I'm Emma Hollingsworth, not a stammering idiot. Taking in a deep breath, she slumped back her shoulders in a nice manner and, as dirty as it was, stretched the sides of her skirt in a bowing way.

"It's an honor meeting you," she said very elegantly. And then she added, "King Edmund the Just."

The faun began to speak. "Oh, he likes to be addressed as-"

"Tumnus," King Edmund interrupted. "Is this the Emma Hollingsworth you were speaking of?"

Emma had been taught not to directly look at any king's or queen's eyes, but she just had to look up in an alarming manner. He knew her name? That was it. Her reputation would be stained, everybody back home would see her as a kleptomaniac who wore dirty rags in front of a king.

"Yes," the faun, Tumnus, replied.

And to her surprise, Edmund let out a slight chuckle, though his eyes weren't laughing. They were gazing at the hole in the wall behind Emma. "Clever. I guess we'll have to fix that."

"I'll tell the workers, your Highness," Tumnus said.

King Edmund was still eyeing Emma. "Tumnus, get her into clean clothes and bring her to my study room. I think she'd be perfect for the job."

Tumnus bowed. "Of course."

Perfect for what job? She wanted to ask them that, but she felt it improper to question the king's reasons. After all, she was already a kleptomaniac, dirty and blunt girl for him. She shouldn't add more to that list.

"I'll leave you with her," King Edmund told him. "I'll go to my chambers. Oh, and don't forget to inform the guard. If he sees that hole, he'll think she escaped. Well... she did do that, but... just tell him she's with us."

"I will not forget to do so," Tumnus replied with a small smile.

Note: So Emma is not just a kleptomaniac, but also a girl who's very full of herself. I know she might seem annoying that way, but that's my purpose for her attitude. Don't worry, you won't always want to strangle her. Though, I must admit it, I found this fun to write this chapter because of her way of thinking :)

Yes, I'm a new author. And of course I'd really appreciate some constructive criticism ;D The setting of this story is sort of like in The Horse and His Boy. The Pevensies are still reigning in Narnia, but a few years away from going back to England. Well... thanks for reading!