Disclaimer: I own nothing that you recognize. All original characters are my own. Thank you.

A/N: Just to get you sorted out- this takes place somewhere in 'The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe', placed in the timeline a few years after 'The Horse and his Boy'. Peter is around twenty five, Susan is twenty four, Edmund is twenty two, and Lucy is twenty. This is going to follow book verse as much as possible, but it's still my own story, if you know what I mean... Feel free to ask any other questions you have. I'll be happy to answer them.

xoxo,

Woods

Chapter One

A Yellow Rose

The bright, sunny color of yellow roses evokes a feeling of warmth and happiness. The warm feelings associated with the yellow rose are often akin to those shared with a true friend. As such, the yellow rose is an ideal symbol for joy and friendship.

ONCE UPON A TIME in a kingdom far, far away there lived a king. This king was a very kind, gentle sort of king. He was the sort of king that you read about in fairy tales, rather than the tyrannical sort that no one likes to talk about, even long after they have disappeared. This king's name was King Peter, and he ruled over his country of Narnia with his three siblings; Susan, Edmund, and Lucy. These four kings and queens had been ruling peacefully over their country for many years, after arriving in a very unusual way… but that is another story entirely. The story at hand begins in the tenth year of the High King Peter's reign. The last of the rebels in the northern part of the country had been quieted, Calorman (their neighbors to the south) were as peaceful as ever, and it came to pass that the High King called for a great celebration to be held. Invitations were sent to all the great lords and ladies and knights of all the provinces under the rule of the Kings and Queens of Narnia. Freedom, peace, honor, justice, brotherhood: all the principals upon which the kingdom of Narnia built its base were to be honored during this great celebration held by the High King in his castle at Cair Paravel. And this, on the first day of the festivities, is where our story begins.

"Oh, I do wish she would get on." A young, dark haired man sat, sprawled in a fine chair, resting his head on his hand and looking very frustrated indeed.

A tall, blonde man replied to his brother, standing and gazing out a window across the room. "You know how our sister is, brother. More than likely she is rethinking the dress she chose previously for this occasion, and must now find another. She seems determined to make a good impression on these guests arriving today." He laughed a bit to himself, and gazed down through the glass where he could see quite a bit of commotion. People and horses moving about, ladies being handed down from carriages, and children running about, talking excitedly to one another. Cair Paravel hadn't seen this much excitement in a very long time. It was going to do all of them a bit of good.

"If she takes very much longer, all the guest will have gone. And then all of this bother will have been for nothing." As if prompted by the dark haired man's words, a door opened and in came two girls. One, the older of the two, had very dark hair and darker eyes. She was dressed in a fine pale blue garment that floated about her, giving her an almost ethereal quality. The younger of the two, her long blonde hair hanging unbound down her back, looked bright and fresh and gay in a yellow gown that hung loosely about her body and billowed when she walked. The man that had been sitting stood when the ladies entered. "What was it this time, sister?"

"The first gown didn't fit quite right. I am going to have to speak to the seamstress about having it altered. I simply couldn't wear it today in front of people." The dark haired man gave a snort and crossed his arms.

"So, naturally, it took you two hours to pick a new one. How-"

"Ignore Edmund, Sue. He's been like this all morning. I've been thinking about sending him back to his chambers for a time out. You look lovely." The blonde man stepped forward and kissed his sister's cheek. "You, too, Lou." He bent a bit to kiss his other sister and then turned to his brother. "Are you going to behave long enough to greet the guests, brother, or shall I tell them you aren't feeling well?"

"I am not a child, Peter."

"Cease acting like one, and we will cease treating you like one." The High King Peter put his hands on his hips and looked at his brother. They both knew that neither meant any of the things they had said. Peter and Edmund quarreled just as often as any other two brothers. It mattered very little that they were Kings, as they were brothers first and would always be so.

A knock at the door drew all of the young monarchs' attentions. "Enter." The deep voice of the high king boomed, loud enough for the being on the opposite side of the door to hear him. The heavy door was pushed open, and in came a fawn. The dark hair on his lower body was neatly groomed and clearly recently washed, and a thin silver circlet that Peter had bestowed upon him years ago rested on his head.

"Hello, Mr. Tumnas!" Lucy, ever adoring of her fawn friend, darted forward to greet him with her customary hug. No matter how many times Susan tried to teach their younger sister proper court manners, some things would never change. Peter gave the blonde girl an affectionate smile. Truth be told he cared very little for proper court manners, at least in the privacy of his own chambers. Tumnas was very nearly as much family to him as his own siblings were, and he had lived there with them in Cair Paravel from the very beginning.

Lucy relinquished her hold on the fawn, and he gave a small bow to the rest of the monarchs. "Your majesties. I have been told to inform you that the guests have begun to gather in the great hall, and your presence is required to greet them."

"Thank you, Sir Tumnas. We will not waste another moment. If you will lead the way…" Peter extended his arm, indicating that the fawn should exit the chambers before the kings and queens. He bowed again and did as he was told.

Edmund gave an audible sigh as he followed his older brother out of the room, and Peter turned his head to look at him. "Do your best to hide your foul temper from our guests, brother. I won't have them thinking their kings are prone to tantrums like they were toddlers."

Edmund grunted. "Sod off. I know you hate these formal gatherings as much as I do. All the propriety and idle chatter and fluff is enough to make my head go numb after a quarter hour. You owe me a good spar after this one, Pete." Being a king for over nine years did very little to turn Edmund warm to the idea of being a man of the court. He much preferred to be in the countryside, getting his hands dirty and fighting to, as he put it 'propriety and idle chatter and fluff'. Lucy took the dark haired man's arm, pressing herself gently against him in her customary way. She knew how much he disliked gatherings.

"I do wish you would stop complaining, Edmund. It's not as if you had do plan or anything to do with the preparations." Susan lengthened her stride to catch up with her older brother, taking his arm in the same fashion as Lucy had done to Edmund. Susan, quite opposite from her dark haired brother, had taken to queenly life like a fish to water. She adored everything about it, from planning balls and festivals, to caring for her people defending her country. She was rather like Peter, in that respect.

Edmund merely huffed in response, clearly determined to keep himself in a foul temper, no matter what his siblings said. Peter knew when he was like this there would be no reasoning with him.

The family followed the fawn through the familiar halls of the castle, down two flights of stairs, and into a narrow hallway that would lead them to the great hall. "Try to look as if you're not being forced to do this, Ed. Once we've seen all the guests you and I will go for a ride." In the back of his mind, Peter felt rather like he was bribing a small child to behave, rather than a full grown man- a king, no less.

"I understand, Peter. You act as if I was going to break down and go into conniptions in front of the whole congregation."

"I do wish," cut a merry voice through the bickering, "that the two of you would stop arguing. This is supposed to be happy day for Narnia. Don't let your silly need to always be at each other's throats ruin it." Lucy tugged on Edmund's arm, and they pushed their way through the heavy velvet curtains that separated them from the great hall. Peter and Susan followed close behind.

The grand marble hall was as beautiful as it had always been. Open on one side to the sea air, Peter couldn't help but grin as the full, salty scent of the ocean hit him full on. The hall was empty, and as Peter made his way to his throne he took in for a brief moment the effect of the columns that ran the length of the hall. Breathtaking, still, after all of these years. His home still managed to take his breath away.

Once he saw his siblings were settled, he raised a hand to signal to Tumnas. "You may send then in now, Sir Tumnas." The fawn bowed again and hurried off. "Perhaps there will be a pretty foreign lady that will change Edmund's mood. They do say nothing will change a man's foul disposition so much as-"

"Oh, hush you. Honestly, Peter, sometimes you're as bad as he is." Peter laughed under his sister's disapproval. The deep sound bounced off of the columns and high vaulted ceilings, lingering in the air long after he had closed his mouth. Susan's mouth had closed tightly, forming the thin line it always did when she was cross with them. Peter nearly laughed again. He knew the moment people started coming in she would be back to her usual sweet demeanor. She could never stay annoyed for too long.

The tell-tale 'clip-clop-clip' of centaur hooves on the marble floor told the monarchs that their guests were drawing near. Two centaur guards appeared at the end of the hall, flanking, on either side, a line of people, all gossiping excitedly, their whispers bouncing off the walls and sending their words every which way. The centaurs stopped two or three yards before the dais causing the long line of people to come to a halt as well. Peter could have sworn he heard his brother groan at the sight of the amount of people present, but he chose to ignore him. "Your majesties, if we may proceed." The older of the centaurs, and the captain of Peter's guard, withdrew a scroll of paper from the breast of his armor.

"Please, Einar." Peter nodded at his captain, a smile playing on his lips. He was glad to some extent that he didn't yet have to stand and give a speech. That would come later, at the first great banquet. For now, all he had to do was sit and acknowledge each family as they were presented. This was easy. Simple. Einar cleared his throat and unrolled the scroll.

"The Lord Alfher and his lady Eleanor, ambassadors from the southern mountains of Archenland." The rather stout couple at the front of the line moved forward, climbing the few steps of the dais to kneel before Peter. The man, Lord Alfher, took Peter's hand and kissed it in the customary way.

"Welcome to Narnia, friends. May your stay be filled with joy and comfort." The words were automatic, falling from Peter's lips before he really thought about them. The man and his wife got to their feet and moved to the side, allowing for the captain to call the next set of names. They came forward, and the process was repeated all over again. In spite of himself, Peter found himself paying less and less attention to the proceedings. From the corner of his eye he could see Edmund fidgeting, probably longing to throw himself into the sea already.

Every once and a while Susan or Lucy would spot an old friend or acquaintance and greet them themselves, and the sight of their reunions made Peter glad. At least his idea for this gathering had made someone in his family happy. Truth be told, Peter disliked the formalities almost as much as his brother. He would be more in his element at Susan's ball at the end of the week, or at the feasts, or at the tournament. Places where he could speak to his people himself, where he wouldn't have to put on the stiff, royal façade. Those were much more preferable.

"The Sir Orestes, his lady Althea, and their children the lords Amnon, Hamnet, and Cadeyrn, and the lady Hermia. Ambassadors from Doorn and the Lone Islands." A large family separated from the crowd, making their way to the dais. The head of the family was a tall, intimidating man wearing the mail armor of a knight. He knelt in the customary way and kissed Peter's knuckles.

"Welcome to Narnia, friends. May your stay be filled with joy and comfort." His eyes scanned over the rest of the family- a small, older looking woman whom he assumed was the man's wife, and three sons that had inherited their father's build, and a daughter. Her long blonde hair was braided away from her face, but the strands that had already escaped spoke of an unruly mass of curls that had been tamed for the event. He smiled. The family got to their feet, and for a moment the daughter's eyes caught his. A flash of blue, and Peter felt his heart beat heavily in his chest, but only for a moment. Then she had her back to him, and was descending the stairs again to mingle with the growing crowd. He blinked once. Twice. Then shook his head slightly. It had been a long morning, already, and it was already getting to his head.

The rest of the proceedings passed without incident, and Peter felt himself visibly relax when the last of the ambassadors was called. At last- at long, long last- Peter rose to his feet. He clapped his hands twice, and it was enough to make silence fall over the crowd almost immediately. "Friends, I beg you to make my home your own. My servants will be on hand to show you to your quarters, and any part of the castle and its grounds are at your disposal. I must also beg you all to join me in a feast tonight, to honor our great Lord Aslan and the good health of our sweet country of Narnia." Applause rang through the hall, and he saw his siblings getting to their feet out of the corners of his eyes.

Tumnas appeared again, accompanying the royal family back through the heavy velvet curtain. "That wasn't so bad, was it Edmund?" Lucy asked gently, her hand once again in the crook of her brother's elbow. Edmund huffed in response, and Peter reached over to ruffle his brother's hair, upsetting the silver circlet and causing it to fall sideways on his head.

"I am afraid I must take my leave of you all now," Susan said as they exited the narrow hall. "I have much to do before the feast tonight." She stood on her toes to quickly kiss Peter's cheek, before disappearing.

"I wonder how many gowns she will go through before deciding what to wear tonight." Edmund mused, a scowl on his face as he readjusted his crown and hair.

"It doesn't matter, Ed. Care to go for a ride before we are required to be formal again? It has been quite a while since Embla has had a chance to stretch her legs." Peter clapped a hand to his younger brother's shoulder, grinning.

"Yes, brother, do lets. Would you like to come, Lucy? Or do you have girlish things to attend to, along with Susan?" Their small, fair-haired sister giggled a bit and detached herself from Edmund's arm.

"I wish I could. I saw a few dear friends that I would so like to catch up with. Do enjoy yourselves, and try to stay out of trouble. Peter, do your best to stay out of the halls of healing. I heard Madam Isobel saying if you injured yourself on a foolish venture one more time she would let you tend your own wounds. Or worse, let Edmund take care of you." She laughed again under her oldest brother's dark glare, turning away from them in a flurry of yellow skirts and hair. When she was gone, Edmund turned to his brother.

"You know, Pete, sometimes I think they have a rather low opinion of us, the girls do."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

Together the two men made their way through the castle and out to the grounds, where the stables were. There was still a flurry of activity here- grooms rushing to and fro, settling the horses who had been used on journeys to the Cair. They wove in and out of the crowd, before entering the main stable. Peter's horse, Embla, was kept in a large stall in the center of the structure. None of the horses used for riding were of the talking sort, but rather the common breed more suited for the kind of work needed by Kings.

Puckering his lips, Peter clicked his tongue a few times in a noise the mare would recognize. No sooner did he finish the sound than did her dappled head appear over the edge of her stall door, making a low noise of greeting. "Seems she missed you, Pete. You should know better than to neglect a woman. Hell hath no fury and all that." Peter put a hand on his mount's forehead, scratching between her eyes as he glared at his brother.

Rather than replying to his brother, Peter called out to a passing man. "Bayard, do you have a moment?"

The old man approached his king. "A thousand moments for you, majesty."

"Would you fetch tack for myself and King Edmund? We fancy a jaunt before the feast this evening." The groom bowed and hurried off in reply. "Are you taking Ciar today, or is your head still sore from the last time?" Edmund was in the process of breaking in a rather willful stallion, and the large black creature had managed to throw the king on his head last time he had taken him out.

The dark haired man scowled and took a half hearted swing at the older king's head. "Do me a favor and throw him off today, Embla. Perhaps it will knock some manners into him." Edmund patted the mare's neck briefly before stalking off to find his own mount. Peter laughed, watching the commotion while his horse gently snuffed at his hair. It was strange, really, how quickly they had become accustomed to this life. In fact, he could scarcely remember a time when he hadn't been a king of Narnia. It was almost as if the time before the battle against the White Witch had been a dream- one that he was slowly forgetting, the details growing fuzzier and fuzzier. He shook his head and turned to let himself into the stall with his mare.

In short order the groom appeared with her saddle and bridle. Peter mounted as soon as he was able, and left the stable to wait for his brother. He appeared soon after, his mouth set as his large mount pranced under him. "Alright there, Ed? Ciar looks ready to spit fire."

"Doesn't he always? Perhaps if I'm lucky he'll aim it at you, and I can have the satisfaction of watching you charred to a crisp." They both laughed at this and turned their mounts away from the stables and down the hill that Cair Paravel was situated upon. They rode through the city, stopping here and there to greet people who hailed them, and speak to certain people who had not been at the gathering that morning.

Finally they reached the bottom of the hill, and Edmund turned to his brother with a gleam in his eyes. "Last one to the shore helps Susan pick out her gown for the first ball." Peter snorted.

"If you think you can keep up, I'm for it."

"Spare me, old man. Ciar will make Embla eat his dust." In response, Peter dug his heels into the mare's sides, sending her shooting off in the direction of the coast. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he felt the air whipping in his face and hair, and smelt the heavy salt of the sea. Riding outside the Cair was one of the things he had grown to like best. Nothing seemed to matter as Embla was gliding across the ground. Lords, knights, ladies and maidens- what did they matter? They were as inconsequential as the stones that his horse's hooves kicked up as she ran. He looked over his shoulder to see Edmund's horse very close, and gaining. He knew that his mare was no match for the young war horse his brother was one. But that mattered very little, as well.

The horses reached the beach at nearly the same time, slowing to a stop as they ran into the sea, the icy water splashing up around Peter's boots. Both men were laughing, exhilarated, as they turned their horses to walk down the shoreline.

Peter looked up, then, to glance at the silhouette of his home, stamped across the bright blue skyline. It was one of his favorite sights in the world. If he hadn't lived there his entire life, it at least felt as if he had. He felt his heart swelling with love and pride. Narnia was his home, and he loved every inch of it- from the southern border with Archenland to the northern mountains. It was all beautiful, it was all wonderful, and most importantly, it was all home.

The two kings spent the rest of the day riding along the countryside, before Peter insisted that it was time to return before their sister came after them. The scene on the castle grounds was considerably more calm than it had been when they left. Embla slowed to a halt and allowed Peter to slide off and watch with amusement as Ciar galloped in behind them, skidding to a stop and causing the king on his back to pitch over his head and into the dirt. Peter's booming laugh nearly drowned out Edmund's muffled curses and he got to his feet, angrily brushing the dirt from his clothing.

"By the lion, Ed, you would think you were an inexperienced teenager again by the way he tosses you about." The large black beast snorted as if in response, standing stock still and eyeing his fallen rider with one eye.

"One of these days, Pete, someone will put your arse in the dirt, and I will do nothing but laugh." A young groom came running from the stables, hurrying to assist the men. Peter gave his mare one last appreciative pat before he let the groom lead her away. Edmund simply glared at the black horse as he compliantly followed the groom, clearly eager for a rest and a snack. "Sometimes I think perhaps it is just me he is holding a grudge against. I have no doubt the foul beast would turn gentle as a lamb if Lucy were to try to tame him." Edmund crossed his arms, still glaring. Peter put a good-natured hand on his brother's shoulder.

"A theory I wouldn't like to test in practice, brother. I fear Lucy's head is far more precious than yours, and much less hard." Edmund cuffed his brother around the head.

"The way the two of you carry on, someone may get the idea you dislike each other." Both men turned to look at the man who belonged to the voice.

"Anath! I would have thought you would still be locked in my study, pouring over guest lists. Glad to see you've decided to show yourself." The man was nearly as tall as Peter himself, but a bit older. His hair and neatly trimmed beard were dark, but beginning to be sprinkled with grey. His tight mouth and jaw line spoke of a severe temper, but the laugh lines around his brown eyes told a different story.

"Your opinion of me wounds me, sire. Besides, I heard a rumor that the Queen Susan was searching for you and I thought I might miss the show. She hasn't already found you, has she?"

"No. Is she cross?"

"I believe the maid's exact words were 'she looks as if her hair could light itself on fire at any moment'. I will let you interpret it for yourselves." The older man laughed at the concerned looks that flashed over the young king's faces.

"Ed, don't you think a King's advisor should be helping him to solve problems, rather than simply laughing when they arise?"

"A good advisor knows how to pick his battles. Woe to the man who gets between your sister and the subject of her ire." Anath gave a laugh that seemed to resonate from the very bottom of his barrel like chest – a sound rather like a cannon firing. "Look sharp, my lords. The lady comes."

"Speak of the devil and she shall appear…" Edmund muttered under his breath, turning to face his older sister, spreading his arms wide. "Susan! Kind Anath here was just kind enough to inform us you were on a hunt for our persons." The scowl that had been on her face as she approached deepened, and Peter could see the corner of her lips twisting in a tell-tale snarl.

"You two!" The snarl, coupled with the finger that had worked its way into the air, and was now waving angrily at them did not bode well for the two brothers. "Your little ride has taken us into the late afternoon. There is only an hour before the feast. How am I to explain to our guests that their kings deemed it more important to have a bit of sport than to tidy up and look presentable for them?" Anath chuckled again, but was silenced the moment he became the subject of Susan's icy glare.

"Peace, sister. Peter and I are nothing if not masters at making ourselves presentable. You have so little faith in us." Edmund smiled sweetly at his sister, speaking in a tone that made the woman look as though she wanted to strike him.

"Take those words and put them into action, then. And be sure to bathe, both of you."

"Bathe?"

Susan put her hands on her hips and threw a patronizing look at her older brother, who looked momentarily confused. "Yes, bathe. Large tubs filled with hot water. Soap. Cair Paravel is rather famous for them. You both smell of horse and sweat and dirt. Do not come to dinner like this- it is enough to put anyone off of their appetite." She turned on her heel in a single graceful movement, her long dark hair swinging after her. The men stood still for a moment, stunned.

"I hate when she does that. As if we don't know what baths were…"

"If I were you, my lords, I would simply do what she says and complain about it later. I am truly surprised she did not drag you to your chambers by your ears as if you were misbehaving children."

"Susan the gentle my arse…" Edmund muttered, beginning to walk back towards the castle. Peter lingered a moment with his advisor, watching his brother go.

"You are doing a great thing, Sire." Anath's deep voice spoke softly now, his words only for Peter to hear. "Your people will love this chance to be free and merry, and to get to know their kings and queens. Your sister will settle her temper, and all will be well."

"Yes, of course." Peter had ceased long ago being astonished when his advisor seemed to know his thoughts without having to voice them. "I suppose I should do as she says. Aslan knows what she would do to me if I arrived to the feast as I am, guests or no guests." Peter began to walk, his advisor's booming laugh chasing after him as he went.

"Friends," the low rumble of chatter that filled the dining hall died down as Peter got to his feet, spreading his arms out as he addressed them. "My siblings and I would like to welcome you, once again, to our home. For nine years our little kingdom of Narnia has lived in peace and had blossomed, like a bloom, after the long winter. The spirit, and pride of the Narnian people is such that we do not give in when faced with adversity, but rather, we rise against it. Over these nine years we have shown everyone that Narnia is not a country to be taken lightly, nor are we a people who will simply be discarded, forgotten." He paused here, looking over the faces of his people- humans and talking animals alike. "I would that every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty. That is my pledge to you. And I have invited you all here, to my home, to celebrate the continuation of this liberty- to celebrate the sweet freedom that was long denied us, and that Aslan returned to us. So I would like all of you to join me in celebration, of the Narnian people, of our spirit, and our beautiful country. We eat and drink together tonight as family, as one united people. I would like to leave you, before we begin, with the words Aslan gave to me, when he first appointed me king."

Peter paused again, his mind going back to that day, nine years ago, when he had first sat on his throne in Cair Paravel. A lifetime seemed to have passed since then, and yet no time at all. The words were still as fresh in his mind as if he had heard them yesterday. "A king is a reflection of his people. If the king is pious, kind, and just, his subjects will be also. It follows that if he is vicious, his subjects become the same. I see you all now, and I could never hope to see myself reflected better, and in such a glorious light. I say now with absolute certainty that my people are the best of all people, and while that certainly does not make me the best of all kings, it does make me the gladdest. But I believe I have let my tongue run away with me. Eat now, and rejoice. I thank you." Peter sat himself back down in his chair at the head of the table, and gave a signal to the servants waiting in the wings to begin the first course.

On his left, his brother was leaning over to whisper to Lucy, who was smiling softly. Before he could look at her, Peter felt Susan's hand on his arm, and her breath in his ear. "Did Anath write that for you?" Peter chuckled as a young kitchen maid placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of him.

"You wound me, Susan. Perhaps I am simply naturally eloquent." Susan gave a burst of laughter that would have been undignified, if not for the fact that her natural composure prevented her from ever looking too undignified.

"Nay, brother. You forget how well I know you. Words never were your forte. You always preferred a sword to a pen, Peter. Did he write it?"

"He did help," Peter confessed, taking the spoon in his hand and lifting his first spoonful to his mouth, aware of all the eyes at the table on him. Once he began the meal, the relative silence lifted. People began to eat and talk and laugh, leaving Peter to talk to his sister without consequence. "But I am not quite as incompetent as you think I am. One does not speak in front of assemblies as often as I do without picking up a few skills." Susan simply shook her head and began tucking into her stew, daintily lifting small, manageable spoonfuls to her mouth, pausing every now and then to blot her lips with her napkin.

"My lord king!" Peter looked up from his bowl to see who had hailed him. A young man, on the right side of the table, was sitting a few seats down from Susan, and appeared to be the one who had spoken. "Will you be participating in the tournament, my lord? I hear your skill with a blade is unmatched by any man or creature in the kingdom." His white blonde hair shone in the candle light, and his full mouth was wide with a grin.

"I am, young lord. I cannot claim to the best of the country's men, but I will do my best." Peter said humbly, smiling at the man.

The young man turned to his left, and Peter realized with a small jolt that it was the young woman he had noticed that morning. "See, sister, I told you he would be participating. Was it so hard to believe I could be right in this matter?" Before the young woman could speak, another man to their right put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"You do not have the most glorious record for honesty, or accurate facts. Forgive us if we do not hold your words as absolute truths, Hamnet." The young man, Hamnet, gave the man to his right a dubious look.

"Aye, me! My own flesh and blood think so little of me! What have I ever done to earn this distrust?" Peter watched the exchange with fascination, nearly forgetting about his half eaten stew. The first man who spoke, Hamnet, seemed to be the younger of the two, perhaps only older than the young woman. He could only assume the second was his brother. He remembered there being four siblings in total from their introduction that morning. Their bickering was so like his own with his siblings that he nearly laughed.

"Please, spare us your dramatics, brother. I am sure their majesties do not want their meal spoiled by your foolishness. Eat and be quiet, for once in your life." A third man, older than the other two, spoke with a seriousness that the other two men lacked. "I apologize for my brother's behavior my king. They sometimes forget their heads and act as if they are children, and not the men that they are."

Peter laughed. "Nonsense, my lord. Nothing is so healthy in sibling relationships than bickering. I tell my sisters this all the time, but they are less quick to believe. Tell me, Hamnet was it? Will you also be competing in the tournament?" Hamnet's grin got, if possible, even wider.

"Yes, my lord. All my brothers will, and our father. We have to defend the honor of the Lone Islands, do we not?"

"I dare say I will have my hands full, then. Do you joust, sir?"

"Nay, my king. Amnon is the jouster of the family. My father and I prefer to be on our feet, with swords in our hands. I have seen what damage can be done to a man in a joust gone wrong. I love my own life too much to give it over to the will of a horse and a wooden shield." This time Peter let out a true, booming laugh, which echoed off the walls of the hall and caused a few people in the near vicinity to stop their conversations and look over to him. He liked his young man. His honesty was bold and unashamed, and his grin honest.

"And your middle brother? What is his game of choice?"

Hamnet clapped his brother on the back with a hard hand, causing the man to choke a bit on the broth he had been swallowing. "Our dear Cadeyrn is a boxer, my king. He may not look like too much, but he could knock down anyone you put in front of him." Peter put a hand to his chin, considering the three brothers. It gave him great joy to have a conversation with the subjects of his kingdom. His day to day matters were often far removed from his people- locked in his office with ledgers and treaties, riding off to the Northern fences to fight some enemy. It was seldom that he got the opportunity to speak with his people directly.

"And your sister?" The young woman in question's eyes widened as she heard him mention herself, putting down her spoon and looking up at him. Her blue eyes met his and he felt that strange shock run through him again, buzzing through him to the tips of his fingers and toes. "An archer, perhaps?"

"Oh no, my king. My sister does not wield a blade. She is a healer- would much rather fix wounds than inflict them. I believe she finds our practice of fighting each other for sport rather silly." In spite of his words which would lead one to believe he thought his sister was foolish, the young man was looking at her with nothing but absolute fondness and adoration.

"Is that so? I dare say it must have been useful to have a healer in the family, with the three of you inflicting wounds on each other. Your brothers are fortunate to have you to heal them."

"It would not be necessary, my king, if they were not in the habit of beating each other to a pulp simply to prove that they can." For the first time since she had arrived, the lady spoke. Her voice was soft, but firm. Her tone was not bitter, neither was her face. She was not speaking from anger or frustration- merely stating facts.

"Ah, such is the nature of brothers. Not a day has passed where Edmund and myself have not fought over some matter or another. It is why we have sisters- to keep us from truly harming each other and remind us that we really are fond of each other, in spite of our differences."

Hamnet laughed, then. "You see, sister? We fight because we love each other."

"And I thought it was simply because you were bored." Another laugh, and Hamnet briefly let his hand touch his sister's.

"Ah, but you know what they say about idle hands, sister. My hands will not be idle when they are giving Amnon a whipping." The young woman shook her head and turned her eyes down again. Before he had a chance to properly notice, servants were at the table again, removing bowls and replacing them with empty plates. Then, large portions of every meat imaginable were placed on the table- from wild game hens to boar and deer. Peter filled his plate with a small venison, all eyes on him once more, and took a bit, allowing the rest of the table to continue with their meal.

"Peter, is this the venison you and Ed caught on your last hunt?" Lucy's voice came from Edmund's side, and Peter turned his attention to her.

"The very same. It was a good hunt. Do you remember, Ed? I believe that was when Ciar threw you into the briar bush." The few people around them who heard laughed, and Edmund threw a half-hearted glare at his brother.

"Be kind to Edmund, brother. If I recall correctly, it was he who took the stag down that day."

"Luck, I assure you." Peter brushed it off, remembering the day well. A telltale smile played on his lips, telling his brother and sisters that he was joking, and being obtuse on purpose.

A pair of small hands were helping themselves to the venison in question, and Peter found his eyes drawn to the young woman again. The braided plait of her corn silk hair had fallen over her shoulder, giving Peter a good idea of the length of it. It still looked ready to escape its confinement at any moment, as if her hair had a mind of its own and was slowly plotting a rebellion against the ties that bound it. He could imagine it would be a sight if she left it unbound. It was not fashionable for women in Narnia to wear their hair down and natural, so he had very little hope of ever seeing it as such.

He shook his head, then, clearing his mind of the strange thoughts. He had never thought about hair that long in his life, except for the time his brother had thrown a handful of clay at his head and he had to wash his hair for hours to rid himself of it.

Peter turned his attention back to his plate.

He felt his sister's gentle hand on his, and turned his head to meet her mild blue eyes. "Are you quite alright, Peter? You've hardly touched your food all night." He smiled at her, using his other hand to pat hers gently.

"Do not concern yourself, sister. My thoughts ran away with me for a moment. I must confess, after years of you telling me I will someday die from the sheer amount of food I consume, it is refreshing to have you concerned when I eat too little." She withdrew her hand, a smile playing on her lips.

"I am glad to hear you have something other than wool and battle tactics up there, brother."

Peter gave a quite chuckle. "Sometimes I even surprise myself in my ability to think myself in circles. Perhaps I should stay with battle tactics." He turned back to his dinner, eating a few bites to appease his sister before looking back down his table again.

It pleased him more than he could possibly put into words that he could see his subjects come together and enjoy themselves like this. As a king of Narnia, he wanted nothing more than to see his people happy. Their joy created his joy.

He threw one more glance at the blonde woman who was eating her dinner quietly, stopping only to make a quiet comment to the brother closest to her. Once again Peter turned his eyes down to his plate. It wouldn't do for him to develop a fascination with one of the ambassador's daughters. It wouldn't do at all.

The feast lasted for hours into the night, continuing long after everyone had finished eating. The ladies retired before the men, who sat drinking and telling tales until Peter finally stood and called for bed time.

Peter retired to his own chambers, his head heavy with drink and bone tired, but happy. He fell into a heavy sleep, dreaming of horses and swords and a white stag, and masses of white blonde hair.

A/N: Well, that's it for the first chapter. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing. I really appreciate feedback, so don't be afraid to tell me what you think!