Disclaimer: Own the rights to the Chronicles of Narnia? I wish!

Now, with no further ado, Chapter Two. Hey, that rhymed!

Susan was tired. No, not tired. Tired was not a word strong enough to describe how she felt. Exhausted was better, but still only skimmed the surface. She could barely lift her limbs.

You see, Susan Pevensie knew a good deal about sleepless nights. She had had many of them. Often during her reign, she was so consumed by thoughts and plans and laws and wars that the mere notion of sleep had seemed ridiculous. How could she be expected to sleep when her people needed her?

Damn. She'd thought of Narnia again. Some days it was quite simple to pretend that she was a normal girl, to hide how much older she was than her classmates, and how incredibly fascinating her life had been. She'd mastered such a charade, pretending to be utterly normal, even boring. But she loathed every minute of it. She longed for the world where she was respected and adored by wonderful creatures.

Some days she could feel the queen beneath the woman, struggling to get and show her uninteresting comrades her true self. Some days she truly seemed like a queen. But it was not difficult to hide her today. After all, it was very difficult to be regal when you were yawning constantly.

It wasn't that she had difficulty falling asleep. Indeed, she would fall asleep minutes after her head hit the pillow. But her dreams interrupted that slumber. Or rather, dream.

For the past week, she had dreamt of a man…

She looked around her, trying to gain some awareness of her surroundings. She could see Centaurs, Red Dwarves, and Fauns, strolling calmly, at home. So this was Narnia?

It certainly didn't look like Narnia. There were less trees, or Trees, and the hills were smaller. Yet, it seemed to have the spirit of Narnia within it. So perhaps it was not a matter of where, but of when.

She looked around, observing her home, and then her eyes fell on him. The cause of her dreams, the bane of her existence, the most wonderful creature to ever walk the land.

He was handsome, to put it lightly. His dark hair fell in shaggy waves across his face. His simple clothes did not hide his trim waist nor his muscular arms. His skin was tanned, sun-kissed. But his best quality was his face. What little part of it that was not hidden by his hair was more perfect than could possibly be fair.

His mouth was not too fleshy, like other men she'd seen, nor was it too thin. He had a strong jaw, with a cleft chin - a noble chin, as her mother would have put it. And his eyes… Chocolate-coloured orbs, that seemed to show his every expression. There was joy, devotion, adoration, and … desire? The thought excited her.

He walked towards her, and it was all she could do to breathe normally. He smiled at her, and tenderly – more tenderly than she'd thought such a strong man was capable of – he took her hand and kissed it.

"My queen, I…" he'd begin, a sweet look on his face.

That was when she would wake up.

The worst part was that after that dream, she could never fall back asleep. No matter what she tried. She'd tried warm milk, counting sheep; she'd even tried reading a schoolbook cover to cover, hoping that she'd be so bored she'd nod off. But her mind refused to allow her to rest after dreaming of the handsome man she did not know.

So now, Susan was exhausted. She could barely keep her eyes open as she leafed through a magazine, waiting until it was time to board her train and head off to school.

Oh, no, she thought to herself. A boy she'd seen occasionally from school, one of the annoying ones who constantly stared at her, was sidling up to her. She tried not to roll her eyes as he struck up a conversation.

"You go to St. Thimbart's," he stated brilliantly.

"That's right," she said, wishing that he would go away.

"I go to Henden House, across the road. I've seen you. Sitting by yourself."

"Yes, well… I prefer to be left alone." She was not being particularly polite, but irritability was one of the symptoms of a lack of sleep. And with the amount of sleep she'd gotten, it was impressive that she had not yet hit somebody.

"Me too!" Susan could not resist the urge to roll her eyes anymore. Couldn't he take a hint? "What's your name?"

The idea of this irritating boy knowing her name displeased her greatly. Why did he want it? Was he going to ask around about her? Not if she could help it!

"Phyllis." There, he was Phyllis Lindstrom's problem now. Ha. She had always hated Phyllis. She was such a dreadful snob.

"Susan! You'd better come quickly," her little sister called out. Susan was almost grateful to Lucy. Perhaps now this boy would get the message.

Susan followed Lucy to the Underground, where everyone was crowded around several brawling boys. Oh, no. Peter was among them. This was his third fight this month. He was always getting into fights, usually against more boys than he could handle, and then Edmund had to step in and help him.

Speak of the devil and he shall come, Susan thought to herself. Edmund had just jumped into the pile. Was it too much to ask that they ignore these children when they tried to provoke them? She didn't think so, and neither did Lucy. But her brothers simply couldn't take the high road.

Fortunately, a soldier came and broke up the fight. The spectators scattered, leaving the Pevensie girls to deal with their troublesome brothers.

"You're welcome," Edmund snapped, looking irritated with his so-called magnificent brother.

"I had it sorted," came Peter's rude reply.

Susan could have laughed. Sorted? Not a single one of them had anything sorted! They were empty shells, their hearts and souls and minds – but not their egos in Peter's case – in a different world. There was nothing left of them here that they could possibly sort. She felt like screaming this at her brother, but she went with the more peaceful, and annoying:

"Really, Peter. Was it that hard just to walk away?"

She already knew how Peter would respond. He would defend himself, insult whoever it was that had annoyed him, and gripe about the fact that no one treated him with respect here. They acted like he was a stupid schoolboy, instead of the legendary High King of Narnia.

It never seemed to occur to him that no one had any reason to treat him with respect here. He was rude, antisocial, and didn't put the slightest bit of effort into his studies. They were all like that. They had no reason to do these things, so they didn't. As a result, the Pevensies were now referred to as "problem children."

Susan was so wrapped up in her musings about their dreadful life in England, that she didn't hear a word her siblings said. She only snapped out of her trance when she noticed the spectacled boy coming towards her. Not again

"Quick pretend you're talking to me," she begged her family. She couldn't bear to try and smile while the boy prattled on. She was too tired, and was likely to hit him.

"We are talking to you," Edmund pointed out. That boy wasn't satisfied unless he was annoying someone with his sarcasm.

"Ow!" Lucy cried out. She jumped off the bench to stare accusingly at her family. "Something pinched me!"

"Hey!" Peter shouted, "Stop pulling!"

"I'm not touching you!" Edmund defended himself.

A train shot past them, faster than Susan had realized was possible. Actually, it wasn't possible. Something was happening…

"It feels like magic!" Lucy smiled triumphantly.

The walls seemed to be peeling away. The wrought iron arch blew away as if it was as heavy as a feather. If that giant structure could disappear so quickly, what would happen to them?

"Quick, everyone hold hands."

"I'm not holding your hand!" Edmund cried out to Peter. All right, now was not the time for his reluctancy for human contact.

Peter grabbed his hand anyway, and they stared ahead of them. The walls were crumbling now. But Susan was not afraid. Because although the crumbling walls ought to have revealed dirt, a beach was appearing by degrees. This couldn't be what they thought it was, hoped it was, and needed it to be. After all, the last time they'd gone to Narnia, they had walked through a wardrobe. They hadn't been pulled from a destroyed train station.

Yet, there was no sign of the train station now. It looked now like they were standing in a cave, just beyond the beach. Susan could feel her bad mood slip away as they stepped onto the beach. White sand and blue water… It was as picturesque as always.

It was home.

Susan could feel the smile break over her face, a sensation so unfamiliar to her. She couldn't help but appreciate the irony. They had spent a year complaining that no one treated them like adults, and yet the minute they were home, they were running into the water, shrieking and splashing like infants. But she couldn't bring herself to care. She was too happy.

She faintly wondered why they were still teenagers. If they were back in Narnia, shouldn't they look life before? How would their friends recognize them now?

The truth arrived in the form of Edmund's insatiable curiosity.

"Where do you suppose we are?" he asked, looking up at hill. Susan laughed. Wasn't it obvious? Peter shared her disbelief.

"It's just, I don't remember any ruins in Narnia."

There was confusion in everyone's eyes. They reluctantly waded out of the water, towards the hill the Just one was indicating. It seemed hauntingly familiar.

They took in the remains scattered across the grass. Marble columns, stone floors… Whatever had been here, it had been grand. Wait, what was that on the ground?

It was the black knight, from a chess set. Edmund had had one just like it. It was a lovely set, but his black knight had a long scratch on its back, from when Susan had thrown it at Peter while he had been sharpening his sword. He'd raised the weapon to smack it out of the way, but the sword was so sharp that it had left a knick.

Hang on; this knight had the same scratch. But it couldn't possibly be the same. But, it was. How did it get here? Unless…

"I wonder who lived here?" Lucy thought out loud.

"I think we did," Susan said, shocked. Was this their home? Had so much changed since they'd been gone?

"Hey, that's mine," Edmund remarked, catching a glimpse of the piece of their past in Susan's hand. "It's from my chess set."

"Which chess set?" Peter inquired.

Susan paid no attention to Edmund's response. No doubt it was something sarcastic, something she didn't actually need to hear. She was too lost in her own thoughts.

"What is this place?" She was afraid of the answer. If it was the one she suspected, than something very, very bad had happened during their absence.

Lucy seemed to have the same idea. She pulled them all together, instructing them to use their imagination. To picture a glass roof, and columns. As if they were seeing it. And she could. She could picture …

"Cair Paravel." Peter's voice was filled with wonder. He was seeing what had been. He was remembering the glory of their former castle. But it was her younger brother seemed to be the one searching for the dark times. He was the one searching for a clue as to why the marvellous palace lay in ruins.

"Catapults," came her little brother's shocked voice. "Cair Paravel was attacked."

Susan felt as if her world were crumbling.

Some one had attacked the castle. Why? Hadn't the army defended it? Or had they let it be destroyed out of spite? Perhaps as retribution for their disappearance, which had made it seem like they'd abandoned them.

No. That was impossible. The Narnians had surely known that their Kings and Queens would never have abandoned them. And even if they had believed such a thing, they would have protected Cair Paravel to their last breath.

Last breath. Whoever attacked the castle, had they attacked the inhabitants as well? Were their subjects unsafe? Or worse?

Her brothers were the first to act. They moved over, in search of a hidden room. The treasure hold. If this really were Cair Paravel, there would be a room filled with their most precious possessions hidden behind a wall of stone.

A thick stone block moved away under the boys' combined effort, and her heart sank. So this was their home that had been destroyed. She watched as Peter pulled away parts of the door. The wood was rotting. So they'd been gone for a long time, then.

Well, without any light, they would surely stumble and fall. This thought seemed to occur to Peter, because he tore a piece if his shirt off, and wrapped it around a twig. It was actually quite a funny sight.

"I don't suppose you'd have any matches?" Typical Peter. Do something, and ask for help afterwards.

"Do you think this will do?" Edmund pulled out his new torch, which Lucy seemed to find incredibly funny.

Peter's reaction made Susan want to weep for joy. His outrage and irritation were playful, the sign of a man who had regained his good humour. They had been here a matter of mere minutes, and already Peter's character was returning to its normal, only slightly annoying, self.

Slowly, reverently, they walked down the stairs. No matter how long they had been away, the room was intact. They each headed to their treasure chest. Lucy smiled as she lifted up her favourite gold dress.

"I was so tall," she pointed out, smiling.

"You were older then." Susan couldn't help but smile at her sister's wistful expression.

"As opposed to hundred of years later, when you're younger." Any attempt Edmund made at seeming mature flew out the window as they caught sight of him in a very large battle helmet. He'd taken it off of a Minotaur one day, during a battle. He'd always sworn that some day, he'd be big enough to wear it. It certainly didn't fit him now.

Susan just smiled at the amusing sight of her younger sibling, who was now trying to pick up an axe he'd taken from that Minotaur. He was staggering under the weight. He'd done that when he'd obtained it, as well.

She looked through her own chest. There were dresses, and jewels, and … her bow! She lifted it up as carefully as you or I might pick up a newborn. She had felt too light, without her quiver of arrows strapped to her back and her bow in her hand. But wait. Where was her other treasure?

"My horn," she mused, upset. "I must have left it on my saddle. The day we went back."

She could only hope that it was in good hands.

They were dressed now. Susan felt so much better wearing her beautiful purple dress than her school uniform. She looked better, in any case.

They wandered along the beach, searching for something, anything. They didn't have the slightest idea where to start looking for Narnians. Where they far away? Did they even exist anymore?

She heard some one speak. Whoever it was, they weren't very far away. She walked closer to the sound of the voice. It was two soldiers in a boat. They were picking something up. Was that a Dwarf? Aslan's Mane, they were trying to drown him! Not if she could help it. She pulled an arrow, and aimed it towards the boat. She was the Gentle one. She felt the need to at least warn them.

"Drop him!" she shouted to the bewildered Telmarines. They took her order a bit too literally, and dropped him into the water. Her brothers dove in after him.

She saw one soldier pick up his crossbow. If he was using crossbow, it might a soldier from Terebinthia or Telmar. In most kingdoms, longbows like hers were vastly preferred.

Hang on. He was aiming towards her! She felt her mercy slip away, and she shot him squarely in the chest. He fell into the water, screaming, and his cowardly companion dove in after him.

Susan and Lucy watched, concerned, as Peter emerged with the Red Dwarf. Lucy pulled out her dagger – she relished opportunities to use her Christmas gift, if it was in a nonviolent way – and cut at his bindings. He coughed up a lungful of water and then glared at Susan.

"Drop him?!" he roared as loudly as a Dwarf could roar. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," she snapped back at him. Was this the gratitude she got for saving his life?

"… Telmarines. That's what they do," the dwarf was saying. She'd tuned out to fume, and had only caught the last bit. So she'd been right. They were Telmarines.

"Telmarines? In Narnia?" Edmund reflected his siblings' thoughts.

"Where have you been for the last few hundred years?" the Dwarf grumbled. Few hundred years? So they really had been gone a long time.

The little Dwarf, who we know as Trumpkin, caught sight of Peter's sword, and a mixture of dismay and irritation crossed his face.

"You've got to be kidding me," he whined. "You're it? You're the kings and Queens of Old?"

Peter introduced himself with his title, and Susan laughed inside. He'd always been so proud that the great Aslan had given him such a wonderful title, but it usually came across as boastful.

Noticing Trumpkin's painfully obvious contempt for the legendary family, Peter issued him a challenge. Trumpkin would have a swordfight with Edmund. The monarchs secretly felt bad for Trumpkin. Edmund hadn't been defeated yet.

And true to form, Edmund was crucifying the Dwarf. He fought so effortlessly that he hardly ever seemed conscious of the fact that he was fighting. In a matter of seconds, Peter's sword lay abandoned, and the smaller rival fell down in shock.

"Beards and bedsteads! Maybe that horn worked after all."

"What horn?" What could a horn have to do with a swordfight?

"You don't know?" Trumpkin's face was now even more shocked than before, if such a thing was actually possible. "Oh, of course you don't. The prophecy was written centuries after you left."

"Prophecy?" came Lucy's stunned voice. "What did the prophecy say?"

Trumpkin began to recite the prophecy that every Narnian knew off by heart.

"In an age when hope has been lost

And dark-eyed tyrants rule the land,

A Prince of the line of Caspians,

Which over Narnia command,

Who fled from what was nearly his death,

Will use what was nearly his final breath

To blow in the horn of the ancient Queen

And our ancient rulers will be soon be seen.

A massive war will then go down

To help the Prince regain his crown"

"At least that one actually rhymed," Susan remarked, a touch of mirth crinkling her eyes.

"A prince of the line of Caspians? What does that mean?" Peter asked, puzzled by this prophecy.

Trumpkin sighed and explained, the way one would explain things to a "slow" child:

"The Telmarines invaded Narnia ten years after you left, about thirteen hundred years ago. The general leading the army was Caspian the Conqueror. When they took possession of the land, he was named king. His descendant, Prince Caspian the Third or Ninth or Twelfth, or whatever number he is, would someday blow on the horn, and bring you back. He'd be fleeing from something dangerous - someone after his throne, most likely – and you four'd help go into battle to get it back for him."

"Do you think that's what happened?" Susan asked, nervous at the thought of someone else using her horn.

"Well," Trumpkin replied, "last night some Telmarine boy came into the woods last night, with soldiers chasing after him. He blew the horn when my friend Nikabrik attacked him. Now you're here. It ain't just anyone that could've summoned you. I'm thinking that's our man. Now all we got to do is find him. Provided he's still alive."

The four Pevensies looked at each other, silently communicating. Peter spoke for them:

"All right. Let's find Prince Caspian."

They had no idea what they had just set in motion.

Okay, that was chapter two

I've added a bit at the end, but the real editing starts in the next chapter.

Oh, and if I haven't posted Chapter 3 by Friday, then it won't be up at least until the twelfth, because… I'm going to Europe! Yippee!

And I know, Susan seemed kind of bitchy in this chapter, but she hasn't slept in days. She is just really cranky. She'll be better in the next chapter. I swear.

Please review! Pretty please!