Chapter 1

Five days later

"Peter, do those clouds look dark to you?" Lucy asked, gazing towards the northwest.

He squinted, looking in the direction that her finger pointed.

"You know, Lu, I think they do. Maybe we should find the captain."

She jumped up, dropping her book, and ran to the helm. He watched as she gestured and pointed, just as she had for him. The captain nodded and pointed down. Lucy shook her head, and they continued talking; negotiating, it seemed to Peter.

Finally, Lucy seemed to relent and ran lightly down the stairs and back to her brother. She stopped beside him, panting slightly.

"The captain wants us both to go below deck. I told him that we wanted to help, but he said to ask you."

Peter got up, grabbing Lucy's book for her. He headed towards the captain. The captain waited.

Peter took his time mounting the steps; the captain could have initiated the conversation from where he was if he had wanted to.

"We're helping," were the only words that the poor man was given.

"But, your Majesty, at least hear me out. Your people need you back safely, and it is my job to return you that way. If you're injured in any way while on my ship, it will be my fault! I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you or your royal sister," he pleaded.

"I understand, Captain -" Peter began.

"Kerrel. My name is Kerrel," he interrupted nervously.

"As you wish. Now, Kerrel, as I said, I understand; truly, I do. It's almost the same with me, though. If I do not help and the ship is lost, I will feel guilty for the rest of my days, because I could have prevented it. You see?"

Lucy thought that he might have exaggerated some. If the ship was lost, then he would die also.

Kerrel bit his lip. He really was quite young, as captains go, probably only twenty-five years of age. The wind picked up a bit, blowing his brown hair in different directions.

Lucy impatiently brushed a lock of her own hair out of her eyes.

"So . . . stalemate?" she asked.

"Well, this is my ship. I could order you to go below deck," Kerrel said, one corner of his lip twitching into a smile as though he knew what Peter would say.

"Yes," Peter said wryly, "but I'm the king here. I could order you to let me help."

"Stalemate," Lucy confirmed.

Kerrel looked towards the fast-approaching clouds, "What about this. You go below deck. If we need any assistance, we will call you as quickly as possible."

Peter hesitated.

"We have a very able-bodied crew, your Majesty," the captain added.

"Alright," Peter said, "but even if it's the smallest of jobs, come get me."

"And me!" Lucy chimed in.

"No!" both the king and captain said.

She huffed and put her hands on her hips, "Peter, I feel just the same way as you. Please, let me help?"

"No, Lucy, and that's final. You have your cordial, though, don't you? If any of the crew is hurt, Kerrel will send them down to you, alright?"

She nodded.

The wind picked up some more, and the first drops of rain hit the deck.

"Get below, your Majesties! The storm's upon us!"

...

Kaelin shook her head, feeling the strangeness of her much-thicker hair. Her head was much lighter now that her longer hair was gone.

She looked in the mirror, holding back a sigh at Biron's cutting job. He'd always liked her long hair, and it was obvious that he was very reluctant to cut it. She'd have to get Willem to even it out and cut it shorter. Long hair was foolish when one's friend had lice.

Fabia had taken the loss of her own hair surprisingly well. She had only cried for an hour or so, but she understood that it had to be done. She had, however, gathered up her shorn locks and tied them together with a red ribbon. Kaelin was forced to admit that it looked rather pretty, even if the hair wasn't actually on her friend's head.

She herself didn't understand the big deal about it. It was only hair; it would grow back. If it had been a finger or something irreplaceable, she would have understood. As it was, the whole thing had been done with very little pain to herself, except when Naithen had decided to help. That had hurt.

By the time she had finally sought out Willem, he had already started working on another of his "projects."

At her confused look, he told her that he was making a statue.

"It really doesn't need to be useful, you know. I just figured that our house is bare enough, so we ought to make it look as though we enjoy living in it, not that it's only a necessity."

She didn't understand his logic. She didn't particularly enjoy living in their house; it was a bit too small and old, but it worked. They didn't need anything like Sir Lander's family's mansion. It seemed too much for just four people to live in, not counting the servants. If they had a smaller house, they wouldn't need the servants, she reasoned, and they wouldn't waste money for the servants to get them dressed every morning. They should be able to do that themselves.

"Willem," she asked as she watched him carve out what seemed to be a nose, "why do people need servants?"

"Well," he said, not looking up, "there are plenty of reasons why. They might need help with all the work, or to keep the house clean. It depends."

"In Sir Lander's case."

"Ah. Well, I think it might be a sign of class, having a lot of servants, but he does have a rather large property, don't you think?"

She thought about the huge house and grounds that he had.

"I do think," she said at last, "But if his mansion was smaller, he wouldn't need them all."

"Yes, but imagine that you're him for a moment. If you had all that money and wealth, you'd need help to keep it all clean. And wouldn't you want to show off? Even a little?"

"No."

"Kaelie!" he sighed, "You're not making this easy."

"Sorry," she mumbled, leaning her elbows on the table.

"Keep that expression!" her brother whispered, "It's perfect."

"For what?" she asked as best she could without opening her mouth.

The question went unanswered as Willem worked feverishly, looking up and staring hard at her every now and then. It was slightly uncomfortable.

"There!" he finally proclaimed triumphantly, showing her the face that he had made in the dark wood.

"I wouldn't know. Does it look like me?" she asked.

"Yes, I believe it does!" he grinned wearily.

She scrutinized it carefully before finally announcing, "I don't look too bad."

"Kaelin!" he laughed.

She grinned right back at him.

...

Kerrel was ashamed to admit that he might actually need the high king of Narnia's help. After all his work convincing Peter otherwise, he might need his help anyway.

"Sedar!" he called over the wind to a Calormene sailor, currently trying to tie down a barrel that had come undone.

"Captain?" the man called back.

"Go below and fetch the high king!"

Sedar's eyes widened slightly, but he knew not to question Kerrel's orders.

It had stormed for a whole day.

Peter was pacing the cabin floor. Twelve steps forward, twelve steps back . . .

Lucy was watching him and fidgeting. None of the sailors had needed her cordial so far, and she felt useless.

Suddenly, a tall, dark man burst in the door, chest heaving.

"Your Majesty, the . . . the captain needs you-"

He never finished his sentence before Peter was out the hatch and into the driving rain.

Lucy sat back down on the bed, tracing the figure of Aslan on the clear cordial bottle.

Keep him safe, keep him safe, keep him safe . . .

She thought about that request, and then revised it.

Remind him to think . . .

She could heal injuries, and no matter what, her brother would always manage to get hurt.

Lucy.

Her eyes jerked open. That voice had sounded so real . . . so much like Peter.

Peter.

She looked to the roof of the cabin, where she knew that her older brother was on deck.

Lucy.

It was more insistent. Peter needed help.

She ran up the steps and burst through the hatch and into the storm.

Was this what Peter had felt minutes earlier? She shoved her wet hair out of her eyes and ignored the stinging rain as it hit her skin.

Where was Peter?

There he was, tying down a barrel; the same barrel that Sedar had been working on. The wind kept undoing the knots.

"Peter!" she called, about to ask if he was alright.

His head whipped up.

"Lucy?"

From where she was, she saw it all in a flash of lightning.

A strong gust of wind undid the knot that Peter had been working on and the barrel rolled free, knocking her brother's legs out from underneath him. He slipped on the wet deck and landed on his back. A particularly large wave crashed over the side, bringing him to the other end of the deck and over the side, into the churning water. She saw a dark shape hit the edge, but payed no attention to that.

"Peter!"

...

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Thanks again for reading!

-Corianne-