Part 2

NOTE: Peter/Susan. Don't like? Not my problem. Read at your own risk. I don't own anything associated with Narnia, nor am I making any money off of this story (*sobs 'cause I'm poor*). Menstruation plot and mild swearing. You have been warned.

Susan's POV

We settled again into our routines: I with my archery, they with their swordship, all with luncheon, approving new draperies and dishes, going to visit the folk of the country, sending for delegations, receiving such. All seemed perfectly fine, until nearly three moons past, when I realized something was amiss. I had had "the talk" with young Lucy shortly prior to the dinner, about what it means to be a woman. Though she was thoroughly startled, she took such news in stride, most likely just happy she wasn't dying of some horrid disease. She was taught a myriad of ways to deal with such, from my simple rag approach, to the special herbs and potions that some other creatures in Narnia had developed to mask such predicaments. It was the week past the new moon of the new year, Lucy swearing as she waddled toward our chamber pot down the hall, that I realized the problem I was in: I had missed now two moon cycles since that night. Surely not. I recounted; no, somehow this was correct. Shit.

Peter's POV

With a month left until the delegation was to be sent to our demanding allies, Edmund and I were fairly confident that we could be ready for whatever they decided for the quelling of the uprising that would take place once the ground had thawed. I was about to set out toward the dining hall when my doors burst open, carrying forward a very distraught Susan. Concerned for my sister, I held out my arms, which she ran immediately to. Sobbing softly and in gasps, she struggled to make words out of the ragged breaths being pulled past her throat. I waited patiently as she contained herself enough to speak. "Susan what is it?" I queried.

"Oh, Peter, Peter! We have a predicament," Susan sobbed, not being able to quite catch her breath. I nodded for her to continue. "Peter, I have missed two moons since the dignitary dinner; I am with child, and it must be yours."

I stood frozen. I had since pieced together what had happened between us, happy to let it lay. But now there was no choice of being silent about such things- at least not much longer. I glanced down, seeing the tears streaming down her face as she stared up at me, terrified. I spoke the only words I could think of, "We will come out of this." I placed my hand on her still very flat womb, and ran my hand through her hair. We would come out of this.

Lucy's POV

I am not too keen on this 'becoming a woman' problem. I do not like having to watch my every step or to sit straight, lest I hurt. I have yet to become tide bound, as Susan called it, but I do not mind, because even the thought of such a thing startles me. What does she mean, anyway? Will I have to become a sailor? Is that how women get rid of the blood? I do not know how Susan has done it all these years. It is driving me mad! Edmund caught me in the hall and called me a blubbering infant. I do not wail, or blubber! My eyes have a mind of their own today, and I'm going to have to miss my fencing session because of these horrid cramps. Oh bother! I hate missing things. Instead, today I went to visit the horses. They just love when I bring them apples. Today I am bringing the new yellow kind from the recently planted orchard with seedlings from the far South.

When I reached the stables, there seemed to be a great hullabaloo- such an uproarious racket as I had never heard from the animals of Narnia. I opened the door slowly, calling out as I did so, "Hello! Good horses? What is this fuss about? Is everyone alright?" Suddenly there was a tumultuous shifting as all of the horses started to walk toward me.

"Dearest Queen, You will never guess- -" "My Valiant we have found such an odd creature- -" "Good Lucy, It has eaten my good hay! It didn't even give thanks for such a gift I was so ill prepared- -" "It doesn't talk! It can't utter a word! It has been struck mute by Aslan! - -" "Are those Apples, my good Queen? May I have- -" "Come look at it my mistress; it has no mane!- -" Such an uproar was made so that I had to plug my own ears against my friends.

"STOP! Stop. Let us speak peaceably and calmly. Master Horse, can you please tell me what all of this is about?" I gesture toward the stallion in the back of the crowd.

"My Dearest Lucy," The great dappled Friesian began, "There is a horse which we do not know in this stable. It has rudely eaten all of Miss Sugar's hay and has not said a word since it got here; indeed, I believe it cannot, for it has been struck mute by Aslan for being so unnecessarily rude at, no doubt, all times of its short life." I make my way towards the back of the stable amid whispers of 'be careful, my queen' and 'move slowly, for it is skittish'. When I come to the back of the stables, I find a small Pony, its mane and tail cropped short; in fact, it looks almost like one that was in a dream once- of a great gathering, there were many ponies there, and odd metal monsters that people were caught up in (in fact, they stood in lines to do so) – a beautiful chestnut creature, but the poor thing was scared stiff, pawing at the ground, its ears back against its head. The poor thing looked absolutely weathered, and starved half to death. I was so saddened by the sight that my eyes started to water of their own accord (bother my emotion!). The poor thing wouldn't let me near it.

"I must needs go and fetch Queen Susan, for she is gentle, and good with creatures," I proclaimed, walking backwards towards the doors. I ran the whole way back to the castle- surely Susan was at the common dinette with Edmund, and perhaps Peter, though it is possible that Peter was not hungry as of yet. I barge into the eating area, only to find just Edmund, his face full of food. "Wat's Wong Luss?" He managed through a mouth of food.

"Edmund, have you seen Susan? I need to talk to her immediately," I demand as an answer. He points out towards the gardens- that is where Susan practices with her bow. I run out of the room without so much as a backwards glance- my brother is a filthy eater, and I am queasy as is.

I hear Susan before I see her. The steady thwack of arrows hitting their target lead me to my sister. "Susan, Susan!" I call out. "Susan I need your help."

Susan's POV

The first I hear of Lucy is her screaming my name. She startled me to no end, making me miss my shot. Damn, I thought. "What is it Lucy, not quite getting the handle on things?" I ask glancing down before burying my head in my hand (the one not holding a bow).When I glance up, she is glaring at me with indignation.

"I can handle myself just fine. There is a horse in the stables, and it cannot talk. It is hurt and scared, and it needs your help." She shot back, firing glares into my side. I sighed as I gathered my arrows and bow. I knew she would not allow this to go unbidden. In fact, she probably wouldn't let it go at all, not until it was dealt with, so after bidding her adieu I start the long trek to the stables. Alone. I didn't need my pretentious and anxious sister tagging along to startle the poor creature more than she already had. As I walk into the stable, I immediately notice something is off.

There is a smell in the place, a smell that is never in the sleeping and eating quarters of the noble horses: poo. I see the poor creature in the back of the stable. It cannot figure out how to open the paddock in order to move to open pasture. That must be where the rest are. I quickly find a castle hand to clean up the mess in the stable, and start the process of befriending the poor pony. Quickly enough it allows me to put a bridle on its head and lead it to the open pasture. Once there, I find the rest of the horses. I set the poor pony out to graze, and I went to talk to the others.

I had scarcely come up to them when they started to talking. The colt started "Gentle Queen! I see you have been able to coax the dumb beast out of the stables?" I chide the youngster- it is not proper to speak of anything in that way, let alone another horse (even if it is not of the noble Narnian variety). He was quickly turned out by his mother who came to speak with me. "What shall we do with the creature, dear queen?" she asked.

"I wish to keep it," I reply, "though all of you so graciously consent to being ridden, I do not feel it right to take such advantage of you. I believe this is a beast from the south; it has already been trained for riding, but the poor thing became lost. I wish to change my daily routine, and going for rides in the morning would be a welcome change."

"Ahhh," she responded. "Is it for your own young colt you do so?"

"What?" I blanch, "What colt?"

"The one you are with, dear one" the mare drolled. "You are a' bred, you smell of it so. When is it to be expected?"

I start, deliriously pleased I had not brought Lucy along. "My dearest mare, you are correct. Mid-Summer the babe is due, but this word cannot go out until I am ready for it to do so, not even to my siblings. Please keep my word, allow me to break this news in my own timing." I plead.

"Of course, my gentle queen," the mare consented, "none of us shall speak of it in ways for others to hear."

We make arrangements for the horse to be taught the proper mannerisms of the Narnian stables (for though the horse is dumb, it is able to learn) and I start the retraining of the horse for riding.

By my third moon I was pleased to say the pony had been retrained in my own riding habits (as well as it should, for I spent nearly every waking moment with the thing). It seemed to have been a message horse, for all the thing seemed to be able to do at first was canter or gallop, making my already queasy nature worse. Praise Aslan, I had always been a picky eater, for I did not want to give myself away too quickly. I had started to notice the bulge that would be my child, but under the many petticoats and flowey garments I wore, it would be a time yet before anyone else pieced such things together.

I would have been pleased to share such news with Peter, but scarcely a week hence had I broken the news, he was suddenly needed to lead the battle against the uprising to the North. Unlike some I knew who became depressed about such things, I knew it was for the good of all of Narnia that these rebellions be squashed for the child if nothing else, but that did not make me less somber to know such facts. What if he didn't come back to me? What if I had to bear this child completely on my own? Those thoughts plagued my dreams, and the fact that I refused to speak of such with anyone only worsened them, but the mare always insisted upon talking about "the colt" as she had so affectionately come to call my child.

Edmund's POV

After much debate… and shouting… and pointing… it was decided that Peter would go to suppress the monstrous uprising in the north. I do not understand why he suddenly wanted to leave so badly. He claims it was because I was too hot-headed to lead a battle. But that never stopped him before. He even insisted upon leaving immediately- no battle plans in check, no plots drawn out; we had not even sent for a scoping of what we would be up against. Everyone around me seemed to be changing - Susan was suddenly aloof; Peter, who had always had a temper but never let it blow, had become a ticking time bomb going off at a moment's notice. Even Lucy, always so sweet and personable, had become moody and irritable, she changed her mind more than the weather (and allow me to emphasize that the weather changed hourly). – And it was annoying that no one seemed to want to speak about why they were bothered so. It hurt that they had allowed me to confide and trust in them, but they refused to allow me to do such in return.

So, being as clever as I am, I hatched a plan: I would trail Susan to the stables (for she had starting riding often as of late) and see what is going on.

The next morning, I follow Susan to the stables, being sure to stay out of sight, lest she catch me being meddlesome. She is greeted by the old mare as she goes to fetch that mongrel she calls her horse. "How is the young colt, dear one?" the old dapple calls out. The comment struck me as odd, for there were no young colts with the exception of her own yearling, and none of the other horses had announced a fouling (of course, then would the question not be phrased from Susan to the mare, and not the other way around?)

"He is growing rapidly," Susan chuckled, hefting her saddle up onto the dumb beast, "I can feel him now, he must be a swordsman for all the aerobics he performs." She settled her hands to her gown, producing a hitherto unnoticed but definitely noticeable bump, a half smile on her lips.

"How do you know young colt is a he? What midwife do you go to to find such knowledge? Surely not a witch!" The old mare whinnies.

"No, just a wish of mine; it would be fitting for this first babe to be a male, heir to the Narnian throne," Susan murmured.

Impossible. Surely not. Susan? With whom? How long? Dear Aslan!

I stumble back out of the stable, unprepared for the news I had just heard.

Unfortunately, luck was not on my side, for in my hurry, I did not notice the tools lined along the wall, and I ran into a hoe, which knocked down a shovel, a pitchfork, and a wheel barrel, altogether making a very large clatter.