Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia.

A/N: Special thanks to Ilada'Jefiv for bringing to my attention the idiotic mistake I made with the first publication of this chapter. I accidentally posted the first draft of chapter 3 on the end of this...but then changed the story line. ;) Please forgive my mistake, and ignore what you may have read previously on this chapter!

-Chapter 2-

Have you ever been in a room so dark that you can't even see your fingers when you hold your hand up to your eyes? It's a bit frightening, especially if you've always been afraid of the dark, and you have a very strong feeling that there is something else in the darkness: something with fiery red eyes and very sharp teeth that wants to eat you.

My heart pounded in fear of the unknown as I pressed my back hard into the rough stone wall of the Dark Tower.

Perhaps my uncle was right about my overly active imagination. With a sigh, I forced myself to calm down, and took several deep breaths. The feeling that something else was nearby didn't go away, but I forced my thoughts away from that, knowing I had bigger problems to worry about than an imaginary monster.

Like why my uncle hadn't killed me yet.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep, but the stone wall at my back was bitingly cold, and the thought that this might be my last night to sleep, ironically, kept me awake.

Miraz would kill me. As he had killed my father. Angry tears filled my eyes as I thought about my parents. I hadn't even known them. They had died when I was only two, or maybe even younger (the fact that I couldn't remember them made it seem likely that I had been just a babe). At least now I knew the truth about their deaths. Now, however, I tried hard to remember those early years when they were alive.

How did they died? I wondered. Was my mother afraid? Did my father and Miraz fight before the fatal moment? Was it very painful to die knowing that your child would be raised by your murderer?

A hot tear rolled down my cheek and I quickly dashed it away. It wouldn't do to cry; tears would not help me escape, unless the guard was an old woman. Escape. The word sent shivers of hope down my spine. Was it possible? Caspian the VII had done it. I stood shakily and began to study my prison. It was no good. I couldn't see a thing.

"Not all things can be discovered by sight, my prince," came Dr. Cornelius' chuckling voice from my memory.

Quickly, I closed my eyes and listened. The tower was filled with deafening silence. I listened harder, and eventually heard a soft rustling noise. Rats. I almost groaned, but knew that groaning wasn't going to get me out of this predicament either. Then I felt the slightest whisper of a breeze and smelt the fresh, Narnian air blowing in my face with a slight scent of pine. A window?

I opened my eyes and looked toward where the breath of wind had come from. Sure enough, five feet over my head near the roof of the tower, a tiny window let in the fresh summer air. Staring hard at it, I began to make out the small dots of light that I knew were the stars.

No escape from that window.

"What on earth am I to do?" I asked the darkness in despair.

As expected, nothing answered. There was nothing to do but sleep, I realized. I lay down on the cold, hard rock, and tried not to concentrate on the fact that it might be my last night alive.

I awoke with a start the next morning at a strange moaning noise. Jolting upright, my eyes stared hard into the dimly lit room. I scrambled back against the wall from the middle of the floor where I had rolled in my sleep, and then asked shakily,

"W-who's there?"

A small sigh came from the dark corner furthest from me, and a sleepy voice said, "Peter? Is that you? What time is it?"

At the unexpected sound of the voice, I gasped and peered as hard as I could into the darkness.

"This bed is beastly hard," the voice muttered.

It was another person. I could tell by the sound. But what was someone else doing in the Dark Tower? Was he a spy from my uncle? Who was he?

"Who are you?" I asked again, not quite as shakily this time.

"What?" the person said, obviously startled. "Where are you, Peter? I can't see a thing!"

I shook my head, though I knew the person couldn't see me.

"I'm over here, but my name isn't Peter."

There was a moment of shocked silence from the corner. I looked up at the window. It was clearly morning; a weak beam of light streamed down and barely lit the cell. I shielded my eyes from the light and stared hard, but I still couldn't see the other person.

"Where am I?" asked the voice. "And who are you?"

"Look," I said, glancing nervously at the corner, "it's awfully unnerving to speak to someone you can't see. Would you…" I stopped, for a figure was moving.

And the person who stepped into the light wasn't an assassin or a dangerous criminal. It wasn't a guard or soldier, or even a stable boy. It was a girl. The girl's hair was raven black, and she wore very strange, plain clothes. She watched me with a frightened look on her face.

"Is that better?" Her voice was soft, but it had an edge to it, as if it could easily slip into the role of bossing and nagging at one. She was likely an older sister.

"Y-yes," I stammered, transfixed as her piercing blue eyes bored into mine.

"Who are you?" she asked, those blue eyes narrowing into slits.

I looked at her incredulously. Was she just mocking me? There wasn't a person in the whole kingdom who didn't know me.

"You don't know?"

The girl raised her eyebrows in question, and then shook her head.

"Should I?"

"My name is Caspian," I said, bowing a little. My back was stiff and sore.

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around our cell, and obviously forgetting that it was polite to give your own name in reply to an answer like mine.

"The Dark Tower," I said, graciously ignoring her apparent lack of manners.

She gave me an annoyed look.

"Yes, I gathered that we are in a tower, but where? There's not a tower like this anywhere near Finchley!"

"In the land of Narnia, of course!" I said impatiently. How simple did my answers have to be? Was she mad?

Her sapphire eyes widened in astonishment.

"Narnia?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

The girl's eyes narrowed into slits.

"Why should I tell you who I am?"

I sighed heavily, my patience finally coming to an end.

"All right, then. Have it your way. Be mysterious and don't tell me. Just because I answered both your questions and told you my name doesn't mean you should tell me yours." My tone, I'm afraid, was very sarcastic. I'd put up with enough already, and I wasn't about to let some girl give me something else to worry about.

I heard a slight noise from the girl's side of the tower, and looked in her direction. She was standing up, her chin raised and her bright blue eyes flashing.

"I suppose you think you deserve to hear who I am?" she asked, matching my sarcasm.

"Well it is polite to introduce yourself," I shot back. "Who do you think you are?"

The girl tossed her raven black hair behind her shoulders, and raised her chin regally.

"I am Queen Susan the Gentle."

For once I was at a loss for words. This girl? The Queen Susan of the Golden Age? I couldn't help from laughing at the idea of it! The girl's cheeks grew red, and her flashing eyes warned me that I had better stop.

"Oh you think it's funny, do you?" she asked angrily.

"Rather!" I shot back. "It's not often one meets a queen from a thousand years ago!"

The girl grew pale.

"A thousand years? You must be joking."

"I'm not. It's been a thousand years since the Queen Susan you mentioned ruled Narnia." I was confused by the look on her face. She seemed horrified; shocked. "So what is your real name?"

"Susan," she said, sitting down and covering her face with her hands. "Susan Pevensie."

Again, she said her name was Susan. I suppose her parents didn't realize the danger of naming their child after one of the fabled monarchs. Miraz would be most angry; he might even have them killed if he knew.

"Is it really Susan?" I asked, still unsure.

"Of course it is," she replied sharply. "I do know my own name."

An uncomfortable silence settled upon us. The girl hadn't looked up yet. Her face was buried in her arms, and after a moment, I realized her shoulders were shaking. She was crying.

"I say, are you alright?" I asked, suddenly worried for this strange girl who had claimed to be a queen.

"Oh do go off and leave me alone!" she said bitterly. "It's all too much to understand!"

"What is?"

Susan looked up and glared at me from a tear streaked face.

"All this!" she gestured around at the tower. "And that I'm back in Narnia…a thousand years later!"

"What do you mean 'back in Narnia'?" I asked, apprehension entering my voice.

"I'm from another world," Susan said, her eyes filled with dread. "But I've been here before. At least, I think so."

"How did you get in this tower?" I inquired. "You weren't here last night."

"I don't know!" the girl replied, shrugging helplessly. "I fell asleep, and then woke up to…to this."

"Oh."

We were both silent for another moment, and then she began crying again. That disarmed me. I had never seen a girl cry before. In fact, I could hardly remember seeing a woman cry. My nurse had cried once. The night she told me of Old Narnia for the last time. The night she had mentioned Aslan.

Awkwardly, I edged over to the girl and touched her shoulder. She didn't look up. I let out a long sigh.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I didn't mean to make you angry. Please don't cry."

Finally, Susan looked up, and I got my first real look at her face. She had pale, smooth skin, and a few freckles on her cheeks. Her dark hair curled slightly where it fell down onto her forehead, and her large green-blue eyes glistened with tears. She smiled slightly.

"It's not your fault."

I shook my head.

"I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I just didn't know what to expect. You meet so many strange people here."

"It's all right," Susan said, brushing away her tears and smiling again. "I won't hold it against you."

"Good," I said.

Susan looked around at the tower again.

"So where exactly is this tower…in Narnia, I mean? Are we in Cair Paravel?"

"No," I said, shaking my head at the strange name, "we're in my unc—I mean, Miraz's castle."

"Who is this Miraz?" Susan wanted to know. "The king?"

"King? Hardly," I stated bitterly. "He's an usurper. He murdered my—the true king for the throne."

"Was the true king—the one who was murdered, I mean—a good king?"

I could feel my face turning beet red.

"Of course he was! He was the best king Narnia ever had!" I stated, fiercely defensive of the father I had never known.

Susan turned red as well and glared at me.

"Not nearly as good as the High King Peter!" she shouted.

I gasped and put my finger to my lips. Her face filled with question. I jumped up and glanced out the barred window that was near the top of the heavy wooden door that led to the stairs. No guard. Good.

"What on earth—" Susan began.

"You mustn't speak of such things in such a loud voice," I interrupted, whirling around and looking sternly at her. "They'll take it as treason! Miraz doesn't believe in the kings and queens of old!"

"He doesn't believe in Peter and the rest of us? That's ridiculous!" Susan stormed, her eyes blazing. "I think you're lying. I think you're jealous of me—of us. I demand to be taken before any person of authority here. I'll get to the bottom of this."

"Please be quiet," I begged, gesturing for her to be silent. "You can't let them hear. Just trust me!"

She looked like she was about to say something else, but then stopped when she saw how serious I was.

"All right," she said finally. "But please tell me what's been going on."

And so I did. I told her about everything that had happened since the Telmarines, my ancestors, had invaded Narnia. I realized as I related the history of my country that I was lucky to have had Dr. Cornelius' teaching. With each story, Susan's eyes grew bigger, and I could tell that she was truly amazed by all of this. When I finished, she let out a strangled gasp and slumped back against the stone wall.

"So it really is Narnia," she murmured dazedly. "And it really has been a thousand years."

"You believe me," I said, relieved that at least someone did. "It's all true."

Susan shook her head; her eyes seemed fixed on some faraway place.

"It's so strange. Why would Aslan bring us back, only to have us find that it was no longer the Narnia we knew?"

I sat up, rapt with attention.

"You believe in Aslan?"

The girl looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Of course I believe in Aslan. I've seen him."

"You have?" I was on my feet in a moment. "What's he like? How many times have you seen him? Do you know how to find him?"

Susan raised an eyebrow at my eager questions. I suppose she didn't know what it felt like to realize that your daydreams and wishes, your fondest hopes and desires, are finally coming true.

"He's a lion," Susan said. "But it's rather hard to explain what he looks like. I suppose you'll have to wait until you see him to know what he's like. I've seen him many times. More times than most people. But what on earth do you mean by finding him?"

I sighed and sat back down; slowly, for my limbs were still sore from the night on the hard stone.

"Aslan hasn't been seen since the four Kings and Queens left Narnia. I always wondered if he was true. Everyone else thinks he's a fairy tale."

"A fairy tale!" Susan was on her feet again in a moment. "This is too much. Aslan a fairy tale! Really."

"Shhh," I warned, raising a finger to my lips. "Don't let them hear you say His name. They're afraid that Aslan might be real, so they don't allow anyone to talk about Him."

Susan sighed and sat back down.

"It's all too much to believe," she said sadly.

My stomach growled. The last meal I'd eaten had been the night before, and it was well past breakfast time now. Susan licked her lips.

"Is there any chance of getting some breakfast?" she asked with a small smile.

TBC...