Chapter 2

Disclaimer: C.S Lewis owns Narnia - I don't.

A/N : Happy reading! Munchykins. x

I decided to get a breather from studying, Mr Beaver and Trumpkin were wonderful. But I was still trying to get over the fact that they talked, from where I was standing, he was a beaver- he shouldn't be saying anything! Let alone having a conversation about talking animal's political rights and oppression before the two sons of Adams and two daughters of Eve came to the throne.

I'm not usually a curious person, and I don't like to listen to other people's conversations. However I heard raised voices from the entrance to the corridor, when I recognised them as Susan and Peter.... Well lets just say that I let my feet do the thinking.

My blood turned cold. They were talking about me. To be honest I was pissed anyway, I knew that Susan hadn't seen her family in a long time, and she probably had thought that she would never see them again.

However I resented the fact that I was basically dumped, in a land that I had never known, with no help or guidance on Narnian protocol or culture. It wasn't just that, I felt abandoned by Susan or Mrs Ravenscroft whatever her name was.

I had taken to eating with them, making polite small talk, trying not make a total arse out of my self in the process. Then say goodbye and retire to the library for three solid days alone without any human company. Then have supper, listen to them recount scenes from the past. Unaware that I was slowly sinking lower and lower into some form of depression. And yes at night, the dreams wearn't so great either. Plus my eyes were permanently red and puffy due to all the bloody crying I was doing.

So frankly, I was ready to go in there and just argue. But something stopped me, I don't know what it was. I just stood there like statue, silently sobbing, for no tears would fall.

'I just don't see why we should trust her!' Peter was clearly frustrated.

'I can't believe we are having this conversation, where has this come from?'

Despite my self, I smiled. She was defending me.

'It doesn't matter, what does matter however is, why has Aslan brought her here? After all this time.. I could understand why he brought you back but...' He was interrupted by a very harassed sounding Susan.

'Hang on. I know what this is about. Your jealous!'

'What!?' Peter spluttered

'We have all had to sacrifice and work to earn our place in paradise, but she hasn't and because of that Aslan has chosen and allowed her to come here, your holding it against her!'

'You have no idea.' Peter said quietly, almost knowingly. He knew something. It enraged me.

'If you don't want her here just say so!' Silence.

'Please just leave it Su. Its not what you think.' Pleading tones.

'Don't you patronise me! Don't you dare walk away, we haven't finished having this conversation!' snarled Susan. Angry footsteps headed towards the door, quickly I turned on my heals and ran back to the library, not caring if Peter saw me.

I banged open the oak doors causing Trumpkin to wobble slightly on his ladder. Stopping only to hold the ladder whilst Trumpkin regained his balance, I hastily took some deep, calming breaths and collected my thoughts. At least I now knew, what Peter thought of me, thankfully no one else seemed to share his opinion. What was so damning was that he still intrigued me, how can you be so hurt and be so enraged yet feel.... I didn't want to finish that sentence.

I wanted to cry and never stop, allow him to see how much he had hurt me plus I wanted to punch wasn't my fault Aslan had brought me here, he was insinuating that I asked or tagged along, being a nuisance. I know that I don't really belong here, but... damn it. Aslan chose me to be here so I am here.

What would Susan or Lucy do? Carry on I suppose, ignore it. But I'm not like them, obviously, I'm from sixty years in the frigging future for a start... I can either tell him that I heard him taking about me and give him a piece of my mind. Or I could simply just...

A mass of envelopes stood piled on the desk that Mr Beaver now located. Simple and dignified.

'Mr Beaver?' I asked politely, my voice cracking.

'Oh! Yes, my lady?' he responded, his bright cheery voice, momentarily froze the pain inside of me.

'Could you show me, Queen Susan's wardrobe and then the stables, if you don' t mind?'

'Of course.' He finished his letter, placed it on to another pile and hopped off his stool.

Staring at my reflection, I almost smiled. A velvet jacket, similar to a Victorian or Edwardian riding jacket, however with a fitted waist and breeches. As quickly as I had came, I was gone, Mr Beaver was still waiting for me after all.

'Thank you, I hope I didn't keep you too long.'

'Nonsense, it was only five minutes, to the stables?' I smiled. Thankfully I had not yet run into anyone. Mr Beaver led me down many passage ways and stair cases, all the while the fantastical surrounded me as if they where simply the mundane. The stables were located just east of the main entrance, a large dark oak building stood, an arch way stood at the entrance and exit, flanked with the rearing lion on either sides of the pillars which supported the building. To my surprise it was thatched, the building was in many ways the complete opposite to the stone, albeit welcoming Cair Paravel. I thanked the beaver kindly and cautiously continued into the stables alone.

The familiar waft of horses hit me, immediately I was greeted by several heads popping out of the stables on either sides of me. Laughing slightly, I stoked the nearest, marvelling at its calming effect on my racing heart.

'Gwen!' I must of jumped about a foot in the air, my heart quickening uncomfortably. I looked around, only to see the four Pevensies, preparing to go for a ride. I could help it I groaned, if I wasn't dead all ready, I would have probably contemplated suicide. I heard the horses next to her chuckling slightly. If horses in England could sense emotions, perhaps Narnian horses could sense the root of those emotions? I added this to the mounting lists I had acquired since my arrival here.

'Blimey!' Edmund said chucking, 'I'm not that bad am I?'

I smiled back, 'I do believe beauty is in the eye of the beholder, your majesty.' My eyes twinkling. Edmund laughed.

'Touché.'

'Are you leaving?' Lucy inquired, I noticed that the young queen was wearing similar attire to myself and queen Susan.

'Er.. No, just arrived actually, Mr Beaver told me about the stables and...'

'Excellent!' Susan said, 'Come, I have to admit, that colour does suit you better.' I went scarlet.

'I'm sorry y..your majesty, but you did say..' hurriedly apologising and figiting the jacket. Susan waved the comment away. And led me over to a magnificent dappled grey horse, which towered above me.

'You can ride Amzara ,he's excellent cross country.'

'Darn you, Su, just give away all the best horses why don't you.'

'You always say that Phillip is the finest horse in Narnia, Yes I defiantly remember you saying that.'

'She has a point Ed.' Peter chimed in, causing me to go hot. Whilst I was tightening the girth and checking the stirrup lengths. I noticed Susan giving Peter a dirty look.

'Can we please, just get on and go riding?!' Susan said exasperated. 'I haven't been on a horse in over forty years!'

The company fell silent, a heavy fog hung all around them, whist stable boys busied themselves in tacking the respective horses.

I lead Amarza out into the yard, followed quickly by Peter and Susan. Peter called over to me,in an air of kind superiority, 'Are you sure your going to be ok, he is a big horse you know.'

To demonstrate my point, I swung confidently into the saddle and began walking the horse, getting used to his sheer size more than anything. Please for the love of Aslan do not let me bugger this up.

I heard the rest of her company join me, as they walked peacefully out of the yard and into the rolling hills that she had first glimpsed Cair Paravel from. I saw a group in the distance, I recognised Caspian, his hair was the biggest give away. I glanced behind me, the group looked like they where going hunting. Peter and Susan where deliberately avoiding each others eye.

'I'm going off to explore, see you later.' And without waiting for an answer I broke into a canter, trying to get as far away as I possibly could.