--

--

"Quickly, Mrs. Beaver, find my healer and bring her to my chambers!" Lucy cried as she assisted a young woman, about her age and size, down the corridor in Cair Paravel. "You'll be fine," she said to her peer as she winced at the pain coming from a fresh set of bruises.

"Right away, my Queen," Mrs. Beaver cried as she scurried away.

"Edmund! Peter! Please, help!" she cried, desperately hoping one or both of her brothers were within hearing distance.

While the young woman was not heavy by any standard, Lucy was willowy and not as solid as her sister had been four years ago when she was nineteen.

And this heavy dress that she wore on visits to the village was not aiding in her speed or strength but rather hindering both.

"What is it, Lu?" King Edmund asked as he raced around a corner. "By the Mane!" he cried. "What happened?"

"Just help me get her to my room, Ed," she huffed as her older brother transferred the weight of the young woman onto himself with little effort. "I found her in the village … some of the less than agreeable Dwarves were drinking and one pulled a sword on me. Oreius had gone to fetch Peter and Linneus wasn't quite quick enough …"

Edmund swept the girl into his arms, careful to not touch the place on her stomach where the blood was seeping through her tattered dress. "You're going to be fine," he said to her.

"Yes, my King," she responded weakly.

When they entered Lucy's chambers he placed the young woman on the bed and knelt down beside her, eyes roaming for any more serious injuries. He heard Lucy sigh in frustration before watching her rush from the room calling for more assistance. "We need to get this dress off you," Ed said seriously.

"His Majesty seems to have missed a few steps in courtship," she chuckled slowly. "It's nothing but a scratch. Queen Lucy needn't have gone to all this trouble."

"You look like you've been run through with a sword," he told her seriously.

"Sometimes Dwarves get a little drunk during their afternoon break. It wasn't safe for the Queen to be there alone," she gently chastised.

"Lucy said one of them pulled a weapon on her," Ed said slowly.

"He did. And he moved towards her with it. No villager could ever let harm befall any of your Majesties. Please, tend to the cuts Her Majesty received," the girl responded. "And just send me back to the village. I have a healer that can take care of this."

"Did you push Lucy out of the way?" he asked in astonishment. "Were you run through?"

She let out a painful laugh as her hands pushed his away and closed over top of the bleeding wound, "Not completely. Please, help me move from Her Majesty's bed. I have no right to bleed on it," she told him seriously.

"You've got to be kidding me," Edmund muttered as he moved to keep her in her place. "It's fine. We can have the lines changed. You need to stop moving."

"Your Majesty, please …"

"What's going on in here?" a deep voice commanded from the doorway.

"Oh praise Aslan," Edmund muttered under his breath once again as he raked his fingers through his hair. "Lucy found her in the …" he trailed off as he watched the look on his brother's face. "Peter?"

"You need to lie down," High King Peter said immediately as he rushed into the room.

Edmund frowned in confusion before his brother rushed past him to the young woman who was, unbelievably, bowing in a curtsey after having risen from the bed. "Sweet Lion …"

Peter ignored his brother as he moved the young lady back to the bed. "Best not stand on formalities, Miss," he said. His eyes wandered to her abdomen and he sighed, internally cursing his brother. He quickly removed his jacket and overshirt before pressing the latter to her wound. "This should help stem the bleeding."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Ed asked lowly.

"Oh, Peter!" Lucy cried as she entered the room with her healer. "Thank goodness. Put this cool cloth on her head," she ordered as she thrust a basin with the cloth at her oldest brother. "And for Aslan's sake keep her mind off of what's going to happen. Surgery," she whispered to him. "Ed, go help Susan, please."

"Help her what?" he asked confusedly.

"Just go," Peter ordered as he applied the wet rag to the young woman's forehead. "What's your name?" he asked her softly, trying to ignore the sound of her dress ripping. His eyes focused on hers.

"Anne," she whispered. "Anne Archer."

"How long have you been in Narnia?" Another rip and a quiet gasp (probably from Lucy).

"Not long. I came from Archenland," she responded and then cried out in pain as the healer applied pressure around the wound.

Peter, without blinking an eye, grabbed onto her hand. "Squeeze when it hurts," he told her seriously.

"Y-your Majesty?" she inquired.

"How about you just call me Peter for now?" he asked, his eyes seemingly lost in hers. "We'll talk about the formalities and titles later, yeah?"

Anne nodded slowly, her eyes slipping closed. "It hurts, Peter," she whimpered. "All the touching and pushing … it hurts …"

"I know it does," he whispered in response as the hand holding the cloth rubbing soothing, moist circles on her forehead and his other hand gripped hers tightly. In all honesty he did understand how much it hurt. He had been stabbed many times since being crowned High King. Sometimes by Ed who was slightly too aggressive during their practice spars, and sometimes in battle. But this injury, her injury, was hurting far worse than any of his had. "Tell me about yourself. Your family."

"I'm afraid I don't know much," she admitted breathily, eyes still closed. "I was born on the street," she winced again at some more pain and heard the youngest queen's whisper for more alcohol. "I was raised in an orphanage."

"And where do you live now?" he asked. "In our village?"

"For about a year," she answer slowly, her voice fading. "They kick you out of the orphanage when you turn seventeen. They make you work from age nine but allow you a bed until seventeen."

"Where did you work?" he asked, his eyes straying down to the healer, then the wound, and then back to her, afraid to see all the blood she was losing.

Her eyes opened and stared into his. He was afraid, for a moment, that she would tell him she worked on the street as a … he couldn't even think the word. "Odd jobs here and there," she said softer yet. "Sweeping floors, cleaning houses … anything I could get."

"And what do you do now?" His eyes wandered down to Lucy and the healer once more before moving back to her face.

"Can't you tell?" she asked weakly with a smile. "I throw myself in front of drunks in the hope that Queen Lucy doesn't get hurt."

Peter smiled and expelled a short breath. "And for that we shall forever be grateful," he told her seriously.

Peter tried to ignore the twist in his gut as he heard the frantic whispering of his sister and the healer. He wished Ed was there with him because Ed was always stronger than he was, at least in situations like these. And he wished her hand wasn't going slack inside his own.

"Lucy, how about your cordial?" Susan asked as she briskly stepped into the room. "Will it not work?"

Lucy reached her hand to her waist to discover the bottle was not there. With a gasp she jumped up and shouted, "I have to go to the treasure room. It's down there with the battle armor!" And she was gone in a flash.

"Just hang in there," Peter whispered to the semi-conscious girl. "Lu will be back in a moment and we'll get you fixed right up."

Susan shot a glance at her brother – who, it may be pointed out, ignored her – before brushing him out of the way to kneel next to the injured young woman. "Rest now," she whispered as she ran a gentle hand over the girl's forehead and the top of her hair. "The pain will begin to ease as soon as the cordial is administered." She heard a faint whimper in response and smiled lightly. "You'll have to be looked after for a few days so I've had Edmund begin to prepare a room for you. He needed to work off some of that nervous energy he acquired while tending to you."

Peter stood back as he watched his sister interact with Anne.

"Queen Susan." The words were barely heard, more saw, but Peter knew that he was right to give up his place to his sister. Susan was not the Gentle Queen without reason. She cared for all of them, himself included, if they were sick or injured. She made frequent trips – though not as frequent as Lucy – to the village and was loved by many.

He briefly wondered if she'd ever met Anne before, then realized the injured girl was from Archenland, not Narnia, and Susan therefore would not have been to the orphanage.

"Shh," Susan whispered with a smile. "There will be time for talk later. Now, however," she said as Lucy tore into the room, cordial extended in front of her, "it is time to heal. I will be right beside the High King, just to your right. One drop is all it takes."

Lucy fell to her knees beside Anne with a relieved smile. "I'm going to give you a drop. I need you to swallow. Can you do that on your own?" At the small nod from the girl, Lucy administered the cordial.

Peter didn't even know he was holding his breath when Anne held hers. When he felt skin brush his hand, he looked down to see Susan, a small smile on her face, eyes focused on Lucy and the girl, with her hand gently holding his. As if she knew something he didn't.

There was a sudden gasp of breath and then Lucy threw herself at the now-recovering Narnian. "Oh thank Aslan!" she cried. "What a stupid thing for you to do, stepping in front of a sword! Why would you do that?"

Peter belatedly realized his youngest sister was sobbing into the shoulder of their guest.

"I live and die for the Kings and Queens of Narnia," was the simple response of the girl.

"Well then," Peter said with a bright smile before Lucy could speak again, "I suppose I'll have Ed draft a law that states you're not permitted to die."

"From your lips to Aslan's ears," Susan said with a gentle smile. "Come now, brother, sister. Our guest needs to rest a while so she can recover. We'll send some broth up in a bit, just to make sure you can hold it down. Abdomen and stomach injuries are funny things."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Anne said with a smile, her eyes closing once more.

Susan's soft smile never lifted as she ushered Lucy out of the room, bestowing a meaningful look upon Peter as she went. Get that look off your face, he wanted to tell her. I'm a grown man and can make my own decisions.

And he was. At twenty four, he was considered to be of marriageable age but had decided against it. Ed and I certainly don't need to be outnumbered by women in the palace, he thought to himself as he watched the young woman slumber silently. If one of us married, one of the girls would have to marry as well to keep the gender balance neutral. And there is no way I will allow one of my sisters to marry. Ever.

He just couldn't tell them that.

"Rest well," he whispered before leaving silently, knowing she couldn't hear him but needing to express the sentiment anyway.

--

Thirteen days had passed since Lucy had brought Anne to Cair Paravel and Peter found himself more vexed than usual – something Edmund laughed about more than he probably should.

"I just don't understand why she won't eat with us," Peter groused for the fiftieth time (in Edmund's opinion).

"No matter what I say, she still tells me that she feels it is not her right, as a commoner, to dine with us, brother," Lucy said softly. "She told me yesterday that the commoners in Archenland are not even permitted to look at King Lune. I just … I can't imagine that."

"She wasn't a commoner in Archenland, Lucy," Susan reminded gently. "She was a peasant and an orphan."

"That doesn't make it any less cruel," Lucy responded strongly.

"Peace, sister," Edmund said quietly. "You're right. It is cruel. But there is nothing we can do about it. It was the way Anne was raised."

"I have half a mind to drag her in here and force feed her until she drops," the youngest queen continued petulantly.

"Your Majesties," a voice called from the doorway. It was Oreius, Peter's most trusted advisor and the highest ranking member of the Narnian Military (aside from the Kings and Queens, of course).

"Oreius!" Peter said in a jolly voice. "Come. Dinner has just been served. I'll have them bring you a plate."

"Thank you, Sire, but I come with a request from your guest, Miss Anne."

"Anne's making a request?" Peter asked with furrowed brows.

"She'd like to speak with the four of you in the Throne Room," the centaur said with something of a sad smile.

"The Throne Room?" asked Edmund confusedly. "That can only mean …"

"She's leaving," Lucy finished. "Oh, but I don't want her to go. It's so nice having someone my age to chat with!"

"We have to respect her wishes," Susan said slowly. "We cannot force her to stay if she does not want to."

"We have dungeons," Peter muttered darkly.

"That have never been used, brother," Susan responded sharply, "and shall never be, so long as I am Queen of Narnia."

Edmund arched an eyebrow at the pout – yes, pout –stretching across his brother's face. He knew Peter wasn't seriously considering locking up the girl but looked put out all the same. "Peace, Susan, Peter," he said exasperatedly. "No one is going to use the dungeons, regardless of what the High King has in mind. Now," he added as he stood and moved towards the doors, "I believe we have someone waiting for us."

The Four left the room, Edmund in the lead and Peter following slowly behind.

Peter knew, in the back of his mind at least, that she would eventually have to go back. But he'd been more than certain that she would be willing to spend some time with her monarchs. It would at least give her stories to tell back at home.

Home. He had no idea where she lived and it suddenly became the foremost thought in his mind. Sighing to himself he realized, however, that she would never tell him. The only time she's even looked at him was when she was in so much pain that she feared blacking out.

The Four reached the Throne Room and each took their positions. As soon as they sat, Oreius came through the door and announced Anne.

"Your Majesties," she said strongly as she curtsied just inside the door.

"Come forward," Peter called. Despite the strange feelings Anne had awakened in him when she was first brought to Cair Paravel, he was the High King now, not Peter, and one of his subjects had called upon him and his brother and sisters. When she stopped at the base of the stairs and curtsied again, Peter bit back an exasperated sigh. "What is it we can do for you, Miss Anne?"

She rose from her curtsey and looked at each of them in turn. "I thank your Majesties for you kindness and hospitality. It is certain that I would have died without the aid of Queen Lucy and her healer. And High King Peter and his steadfast hold on my hand while I was in immense pain. And King Edmund," she continued with a slight smile, "with his muttered disbelief. And last but not least, Queen Susan, for her soft words and soft touch."

"Think nothing of it," Susan said. "We were happy to help."

"It was so nice having you around!" Lucy called out, seemingly forgetting her station.

"Sister," Peter said harshly. He never removed himself from the position of High King whilst in Strategy, Parliament or, most of all, Audience. His subjects expected more of him and his family and he would do everything in his power to make sure they all knew how serious the Four were about ruling Narnia. Allowing Lucy such an outburst would not due. Though he secretly shared the same thought.

"Please, Miss Anne, there was no need to thank us," Edmund interjected. "Please feel free to get more acquainted with Cair Paravel. I am sure you will be here for some time …" He could literally feel Peter tense up to wait for her response.

"You are most gracious, my King, but I must be returning to the village. Mr. Canterbrick has offered me a job at his pub and I am in no position to turn down such a lenient offer."

"Lenient?" Susan asked from her seat.

"Not many Narnians like me," Anne admitted. "I'm not like them and I'm not like your Majesties. And, although Archenland is not an enemy, some of the Narnians do not consider the Men friends. So when Mr. Canterbrick offered the position, I accepted it. And then I went and got myself stabbed. I do hope he allows me to continue employment," she added as an afterthought, more to herself than to the Four.

"If not, Queen Lucy and I will come down to the village and have a word with him," King Edmund said. It was easier for him to step out of the role of Monarch in the Throne Room. He knew Peter would want to say something – his brother always knew when something was happening in the High King's mind and this time, for the first time, it was about a girl – but couldn't.

"Oh, yes," Lucy added. "I go down once a week at least."

"When will you go?" Susan asked, already knowing the answer. Anne was already dressed in her tattered dress (if it could be called that) and looked to be ready for the walk down to her village.

"As soon as your Majesties grant me my leave," she responded.

Edmund hid a smirk knowing that, if his brother wasn't High King, he would never grant her leave. But he also knew that Peter would do all he could to uphold the honor of his crown. Sadly, he knew, his brother was coming to the realization that he would never be able to pursue a relationship with the young girl from the village.

Peter stared hard at her for a moment. He didn't want her to go. He wanted to get to know her. However much he wished those things, however, he knew he could not. He glanced quickly at his fellow monarchs and then made eye contact with her. He would not allow his emotions to overtake him when he said in a Kingly voice, "You may take your leave, Miss Anne."

Even Edmund felt the pang of regret from his brother. But what he didn't expect was to see Anne's shoulders hunch, as if defeated, before she curtsied once more and left.

"It is better this way, brother," Susan said gently from beside the High King.

"Better for whom?" he asked softly before leaving the Throne Room alone for the first time in their reign.