Lucy was quick to show him around the castle grounds as she led him towards their tailor. Sam couldn't focus on her voice, however, as her very existence was making his heart soften and his head reel with questions.

So many things were happening all at once, even though to think about them too deeply would probably result in keeling over. He had so many questions as to why he was in a world he had only ever thought to be fictional, but it was real and everything in it was alive. Furthermore, Queen Lucy was quickly garnering his affections.

"...and this is the east wing," Lucy was saying when Sam's mind cleared and his focus gained its attention span. "Here is where all of the bedchambers are found, including the chamber that is a guest room of sorts. Undoubtedly, this is where we will place you."

Sam managed to smile at her in gratitude. "I would appreciate it," he said, hoping that his voice wasn't as feeble as he thought it would be.

Lucy slowed her pace a bit so that she could walk beside him. "How long do you plan on staying with us?"

He honestly couldn't answer that question with something that wouldn't bother him either way, so he remained silent, his response leaving her feeling a bit empty at the situation.

The young queen cleared her throat and stepped up again, livening her pace once again as she rounded a corner into a room they hadn't been in before.

"Oh, sir," Lucy said to the man whose back was currently to them. "I was looking for Alpin, our tailor. When will he return?"

Sam entered the room behind her to see a familiar sight, even though he couldn't let on that he knew the man before them.

"Alpin will be back shortly, mi'lady," Castiel said as he turned around, his body decked out in garb similar to that of the other Narnians. "I am Castiel, his apprentice. What can I assist you with?"

Lucy gestured to Sam, tugging him forward until they were side-by-side. "This is Sam. He is our guest here, but he requires new attire that is more suitable to our courts. Please see that he gets it."

"I will do this promptly, mi'lady."

"And give your master my best!" with a fond wave, the young queen skipped out of the room, calling, "See you at supper, Sam!" over her shoulder.

Sam approached Castiel with an urgent fervency. "Cas, what the hell?" he questioned. "Why am I here?"

Castiel sighed. "It's...complicated."

"Tell me."

The angel nodded after a moment. "You are here to heal."

"Heal? How can this place help me heal, and heal from what?"

"This place...it's good for your soul, Sam. You need to rest, and this place will get you back to where you need to be."

Sam understood this. He knew that his condition was not one to be trifled with, though the adjustment would prove to be interesting. Still, how could he resist this and demand to return to the real world when his inner child was fanboying and begging for him to stay?

"I'll stay, Cas, alright? Wasn't there an easier way for me to heal, though?"

"Actually, this was all Dean's idea. I told him perhaps some aromatherapy and prayer would help, but he insisted once I told him I could make this happen. This is a beautiful place, Sam."

Sam nodded, watching the setting sun cast beams of beauty against the lush scene just outside of the open frame in place of a window. "It is beautiful."

Of course, he had a double-meaning to such a word. He did mean that the landscape and all that he had seen so far was beautiful, but mainly he was focused on a young queen who had enraptured him.

::::

"Where is our guest, Lu?" Peter questioned, taking his seat at the end of their long dining table. The fire behind him blazed against the shadows and interspersed beams of light casting about the floor and walls of their meeting hall. His solid gold crown had both breadth and intricacy and was, by far, the most lavish of all five crowns.

Lucy was waiting impatiently at the table, though her spirit had tamed since the presence of the High King was always one to placate her. Peter didn't approve of her bouncing around and flittering to and fro, and tonight, he would be even less accommodating, given that his request for Sylfaen, the fairest Driad in all of the Western Wood, had declined his wishes for her to join them at their feast. She knew that this would set her brother into a terrible rage if brought up, but perhaps the presence of a guest would soothe him.

"He should be here at any moment," she stated reassuringly, more for herself than for the High King.

"Perhaps he has lost his way," Anne suggested, scooting her chair back a bit from the edge of the table to make room for her belly. She turned to her husband who sat beside her and placed a hand on his arm. "Edmund, dearest, do you think you could go and locate him? I'm sure he is lost again."

Edmund glanced over his wife and, sensing that her concern was genuine, he nodded and kissed the hand of hers that lay upon his arm. "Yes, my dear," he answered. "I will find him." As he rose from his seat to go and find Sam, however, his older brother stopped him with his voice.

"Sit down, Edmund," Peter's voice boomed, practically reverberating off of the stone walls.

Susan, whose place was at the other end of the table, peered across towards Peter with a gentle kind of plea. "Peter, please," she muttered. "Perhaps Anne is right. If he is lost - "

" - he will find his way." Peter had interrupted her, something that earned a stern look from Susan.

Lucy's leg was restless beneath the table, bouncing impatiently. She was just about to tell Peter off and go find Sam herself when Sam entered the room, his appearance much more Narnian but still flustered.

"My apologies, Majesties," Sam introduced, directing such a statement at the High King more than the others. The entire room was swept with relief, mostly on Lucy's end, though, as her leg ceased its bounciness and a smile stretched across her lips. "These corridors are much longer than I'd thought."

Anne chuckled and settled back into her chair. "You will adjust to it," she confirmed, her husband nodding in agreement.

"Your seat is next to Queen Lucy," Peter instructed, straightening his stature and flickering his eyes to glance at Susan. She was making a face at him as if to tell him to behave, and he would, certainly, try to.

Sam bowed in response before taking his stride to sit next to the young queen. The instant he was once again in her presence, he could feel his skin undulate with a tingling he hadn't felt since...well, since...

"You are dressed much more appropriately now," Lucy whispered to him, a sly smirk now playing on her face.

Sam smiled in return. "Your tailors are very talented here, Your Majesty."

"Edmund and I were just admiring your attire, Sam," Anne called to him from across the table. "How much more like a Narnian you appear to be in this accoutrement."

"You must be feeling more at-home in these clothes than the others," Edmund suggested as several Fauns entered the room and brought platters of food with them. "How dreadfully stuffy they were, yes?"

Sam was not about to admit to them of the wonders that denim could do in outlasting many other materials of clothing, and he admitted to himself that these were comfortable, so perhaps a compromise was in order. "They were stuffy, Your Majesty, yes. This material seems to breathe with me."

"Clothing here should be comfortable and reflect one's station," Susan commented, watching as a Naiad filled her goblet with spiced rum. "What station are you, Sam?"

Lucy swallowed her current mouthful of her drink before she spoke for her guest. "He is our guest, Susan. Station is not important for a guest." Sam was grateful for her words.

"On the contrary, dear sister. As you can see, our stations are quite important, so all stations are of some importance. Where do you hail from?"

Sam thought for a moment, his inner fanboy pulling out the image of a Narnian map so seared into his memory that it had been filed away. Luckily, he could absolutely recall it and could now use it to his advantage. "I was born on the Isle of Galma, Your Highness, but was raised in a small encampment just south of Anvard."

"Archenland?" Peter chimed in, his mouth half-full of mutton. "You hail from there?"

Sam was about to get more into his homespun tale and shook his head, signalling his fanboy to take over for a moment. "Actually, Majesty, I suppose I hail more from Stormness Head than from Anvard itself. I found myself more at home on the mountains and moors."

Lucy smirked, knowing that this would fare well with her brother, a man who was so well-traveled in their world that he knew it like he knew so well the freckles on Susan's fair skin.

"'Tis a dangerous life on the moors," Peter admitted, taking another bite of his meat.

Sam nodded in agreement. "Aye, Majesty."

"What did you do in Archenland?" Anne questioned, wanting to know further so as to quell her boiling curiosity.

"My father was a pirate and a marauder." Anne seemed impressed by this and Edmund made sure that his current bite of food had been swallowed before he joined in.

"My brother and I put to death many pirates these past few seasons," he stated as a fact, his voice rife with a bit of regret that Sam could easily sense. "I do hope your father was not one of them."

"If he was, so be it," Peter gruffed, downing a bit of his drink. All eyes from the others turned to him. "Pirates and pillagers know of our laws. The instant they set food on our shores, they know of the risks associated with that position."

"Peter..." Susan mumbled, shooting him a look that said he was treading on thin ice.

"How dreadful a thing to say!" Anne piped up.

"I agree, brother. Sam is our guest and to talk to him as such is not a positive thing to reaffirm your authority, if anything - "

"Silence, Edmund - I will speak my mind as I hear it."

"Your heart may be wounded by a woman who cannot return your advances, but that does not justify the spurning of our guest," Lucy courageously affirmed.

Peter's face fell, a look of gloom overtaking the once-stoic King. "Sylfaen's absence does not have anything to do with - "

"Doesn't it? Peter, we know you are infatuated with her, but be a man about it instead of the frightened weasel you turn into after rejection stings your pride!"

The room was silent following the young queen's words. Known only to Sam at the moment, his story had been false, though the High King's behavior was entirely unacceptable either way. Peter pushed himself back from the table and threw his plate to the ground, the clanging sound echoing as he stormed from the room in a flurry of rage.

Susan was the first to respond, wiping her mouth on a cloth as she stood from the table, her sandals shifting against the stone as she scurried after her brother.

Anne's gaze fell over Sam, a sympathetic look on her lovely features. "Susan will bring him back to his senses - I am sure of it," she stated confidently.

Edmund released a sigh. "Well, Sam, I have lost my appetite. Allow me to show you to your chamber."

Sam was all too eager to oblige.

::::

The glisten of the sea and the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore were evident in Sam's chamber. This room was far bigger than he had anticipated, and the bed was at least king-sized, if not bigger. The size itself was unconventional and the wardrobe in it was small, just enough to hold a few different outfits of varying materials. His bare feet against the stone was a cooling sensation and the salty sea air filled his lungs and made him thankful for the simplicity of this place.

A small knock on his door forced him away from his pacing about the room. Shuffling towards the door, he lifted the latch and pulled the door to an opened position, surprised to see Lucy standing on the other side.

"Your Majesty," he greeted, noting how lovely she looked in the moonlight and the shadow from the candleabra she was holding. Through the darkness, he could see she was dressed in a simple lace nightgown, a dressing gown of velvet over it to keep her toasty.

"I came to speak with you," she whispered. "May I...?"

"Absolutely," Sam said, opening the door and gesturing for her to enter the room. She did so with grace, and Sam was quick to latch the door behind them. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Lucy placed the candleabra on a small table by his bedside before turning to him. "I could not leave behind what Peter so harshly said to you over the table."

"My lady, he was a scorned man. I don't want to judge him for his condition."

"It was an unacceptable thing to do to a guest, let alone as High King. He made a fool out of himself in the worst possible way, though I know he will never apologize to you for it, so I must in his stead."

Sam was struck by her sincerity and the fact that she was clearly so perturbed that her brother had reacted so violently. He shook his head, his facial expression conveying gratitude but sympathy. "Your Majesty, he is a man with feelings. A man like that needs to vent somehow. Your brother just used me, and I'm fine with that."

Lucy nodded after a moment of hesitation, stepping away from him and towards the open wall on the other side. "Have you ever been scorned by a lover, Sam?"

The answer to her question was no, of course, but he had lost two lovers for whom he had cared very deeply, so her words rang true in some ways. "Never, Majesty. But I have experienced loss."

Lucy's back was now to him, her silhouette against the moonlight causing his heart to shudder as he noticed her dressing gown was trailing ever so slightly on the stone behind her bare-footed persona. "As have I," she admitted under her breath, not at all referring to anyone Sam was aware of. "How silly of me to question that of you. I barely know you. You are as a stranger to me."

"And, yet, here you stand in my bedchambers late in the night."

Lucy knew that he was right. She had come here on an impulse and was now looking for any excuse to stay, to linger and spend more time with this tall, handsome, intriguing stranger. She sat down on the stony sill, eyes casting out over the darkness of the sea. Sam felt compelled to join her, sitting beside her on the stone.

"Do you enjoy the sea, Sam?" she questioned, eyelids fluttering closed as she inhaled and exhaled the briny air.

"I prefer land, my lady," he said softly, dusting off the stone under his thigh. "The sea is unpredictable and dangerous...honestly, thinking about it too much scares me."

"Not me." She opened her eyes and turned her head to gaze at him. "The sea makes me feel as though I can do anything. It stabilizes me and fills me with questions that I know will never be answered. It's a challenge and a thrill...it holds everything that my life could never amount to beneath the waves. The sea is liberty, it is trust, it is misunderstood." She stopped after the last word, her eyes falling to her lap where she kindly folded her hands.

Sam looked over her, filled with a sudden pang of sadness for the emptiness inside of the lively and breathtaking woman so near. He paused for a moment, hoping that his next statement was not too bold. "Do you find that you are misunderstood, my lady?"

Lucy's beryl eyes returned his look, a gentleness washing over her features. "I do sometimes, Sam. I am a Queen of Narnia, so there are many traits I must adhere to. Sometimes, all I want is freedom and to be respected for who I am and not for my title. I feel as though Peter expects so much of me...but I am young. I cannot be who he wants me to be."

"Don't change yourself to please your brother, especially if it makes you miserable." He snickered. "I know about that all-too-well." Pausing to let his words sink in, he searched for the right thing to say so as not to over-step his bounds. "Your Majesty - "

"Lucy," she interjected immediately.

Sam smiled gently. "Lucy," he corrected, "you are a Daughter of Eve and have more than earned your queenship. You are...you bring light to your kingdom and peace to the hearts of those who are wounded."

"Are you wounded, Sam?"

"Not in your presence, thankfully."

Lucy turned her gaze away, a slight heat filling the skin underneath her cheeks. She was blushing because of a man who invested in her as a person, not in her crown. It was then that she suddenly understood the deep love her brother had for Anne, spousal and otherwise, and she could see herself falling in love with the man next to her. That, above all, frightened her and she rose instantaneously, clearing her throat.

"It is late," she announced, crossing the stone quickly and grabbing her candleabra. "I must return to my own chambers."

"Lucy, I didn't mean to cross any boundaries."

Lucy glanced at him as her hand settled on the latch. "On the contrary. You have opened my eyes and made me feel...wanted." She smiled at him sweetly before opening the latch and slipping out the door, leaving a bewildered Sam in her wake.