Hello everyone! Here is chapter three.


On the weekends, Eustace, Edmund and Lucy often traveled to London to see Susan, sister and cousin respectively to the three students. Since the school was located eighty miles from the bustling metropolis, they would stay a few nights, and drive back to school Sunday evening.

So, when school ended that Friday afternoon, they piled into a BMW Mini Cooper for the two-hour drive to London. Lucy sat in the back of the car, Eustace in the front seat with Edmund driving. As usual, Eustace was complaining.

"Isn't there a faster way?"

He asked that question every time they made the trip, as if they answer would change if he pestered his cousins enough.

Lucy rolled her eyes and tried to make herself around the several suitcases that were crammed in the back seat with her. Eustace had over-packed, again, and Lucy was the one expected to suffer. For the nth time that trip, she shifted her slim legs around Eustace's matching luggage set, her knees accidentally bumping against one of the bags.

Eustace looked over his shoulder with a distasteful sneer. "Don't scratch my suitcases."

Rather than back down, Lucy glared with such ferocity that Eustace visibly winced. "There is nothing to scratch, they're made of nylon."

Her younger cousin shrank back, and turned his gaze back to the road. Lucy just knew he was pouting.

"Edmund, you should make your sister behave."

Lucy bristled, her hands clenching into white knuckled fists.

She.

Her.

Your sister.

Girl.

Apparently, Eustace had forgotten her name. That, or she was not worthy of being addressed by her name. She was just about to speak up for her when Edmund did it for her.

"Eustace, shut up already."

Of course, Eustace ignored Edmund's command.

"Why do we have to take such a small car? If we had a bigger one, we'd get their faster."

"We really wouldn't, Eustace."

And they wouldn't. The roads to London from St. George's were hardly big enough for a single carriage, let alone a small car. The narrow country lanes were built over the roads the Romans laid centuries, which were not meant for anything besides horses and carts. They were bordered by impenetrable hedges and steep grassy banks. Road markers were sparse, so Edmund's full attention had to be on the roads at all times.

Satisfied that Eustace would leave her alone, Lucy looked out her window, soothed by the beautiful English scenery. It was like something off of a postcard. There were open fields, quaint Tudor cottages, sheep, more sheep, old stone walls, and grass covered hills perfect for sledding.

The rest of the drive was taken in silence, save for the quiet music Edmund had on the radio. Lucy drifted in and out of sleep, and in and out the most incredible dreams. Maybe it was the sound of the pavement beneath the tires, or the way the sun warmed her face, but she had silly, girlish dreams of a brown-eyed boy with sun-darkened skin, and a curious dimple that appeared whenever he smiled at her.


By the time Lucy had woken up, they were already outside Susan's apartment. She stretched languidly in the back seat, not caring if she knocked over Eustace's suitcases. The countryside carriage lanes were replaced with busy city streets, full of people and cars that always seemed to be in a hurry. Lucy wondered just what would happen if they slowed down for even one minute.

Within moments of their arrival, Susan was bounding down the steps, looking trendy to the point of vanity. She was rail thin in skinny jeans and a too tight shirt. At nineteen, she wore more makeup than a drag queen, and not one lock of her artfully highlighted hair was out of place. To Lucy, she looked like Malibu Barbie.

But still, she was glad to see her older sister, and when Susan dragged her out of the compact car, they threw their arms around each other as if they had been apart months, instead of just a week. Edmund got a more subdued greeting with a kiss on the cheek, and the only thing Eustace would accept was an austere handshake.

Edmund did not bother sticking around for long. London's public houses and rugby matches proved too great a temptation. Eustace, who found pleasure in nothing but bullying, went off on a walk, presumably to destroy sand castles and push children off of swing sets.

This left Lucy and Susan alone, and Lucy was not sure if she liked the arrangement.

"I'm so glad you're here, Lucy," Susan said wistfully as she served the younger Pevensie. They were in her parlor, having tea together. Sadly, it was not high tea, but low-fat tea. Instead of scones and tea cakes, there were fiber bars and cold vegetables.

"Me too." Lucy didn't sound too thrilled, but it might have been the honeyed flax cakes.

After the death of their parents, Susan decided that having a childhood wasn't as fun as being fashionable and conceited. Her life was a destructive, chaotic blend of parties, bars, and shopping malls. Whenever Lucy visited, their days were filled with trips to expensive boutiques and restaurants with impossible to pronounce menus.

This made Lucy wary of the situation. They never stayed home and had tea.

"I'm sorry," Lucy said quietly as she sipped her quickly cooling Chai tea. "Are we going out later? We never have tea at your apartment. I'm not complaining - it's just odd."

Susan gently put down her cup, and took Lucy's hands her own. "Whatever I'm about to tell you, know that I love you very much. You're my world, Lucy, and I couldn't bare it if you hated me."

Lucy could feel something inside of her tighten, but she smiled and nodded, urging Susan on. In a rare show of vulnerability, Susan tightened her trembling hands around Lucy's.

"I'm getting married."

Lucy forgot all sense of tact. "What?!" she questioned breathlessly, her expression twisting in horror. "You're too young to be married!"

Susan smiled, her eyes hardening. "I'm nineteen. Old enough to drink, vote, and live on my own. If I'm old enough to make my own decisions, surely I'm old enough to take a husband."

Lucy couldn't understand. "What do you need a husband for?"

"Maybe because I'm in love?" Susan's tone may have been light and airy, but her eyes narrowed in derision.

"You haven't mentioned a man at all since I've seen you! How long have you been dating him, three hours?"

"We've been seeing together for about a year." Lucy looked betrayed at this.

"Why haven't you told me?"

Susan had the grace to look apologetic, but Lucy knew it was just an act. Her older sister was not sorry. She had left that part of herself behind at their childhood home.

"Who is he?" Lucy asked after a moment.

Susan looked off to the side, her mouth hardening into a thin line. "James Krinard."

"The Internet Cafe guy?!"

"Yes, Lucy, the Internet Cafe guy."

Susan bristled when Lucy snorted. "He's not a bad man, Lucy."

"No, he's just conveniently rich. And isn't he twenty years older than you?"

"Fourteen, Lucy," Susan ground out. "And love knows no boundaries."

Lucy scoffed. "You're not in love!"

"You're a baby, Lucy. What do you know of love?"

At this, Lucy took her hands back and stood defensively, looking down at her sister with an angry frown. "I know that at nineteen, you have no idea what it is."

Susan matched Lucy and stood, towering over her sister in her death-defying high heels.

"Come off it, Lucy. We're not children anymore. There's no school to protect us. And right now I have no one but myself. I know I have you, Edmund and Peter, but you and Edmund are babies, and Peter's overseas playing soldier. Now, you can congratulate me for finding a good man, or we can talk about something else."

Lucy was at a loss. It seemed that no matter what decision she made, in the end, she would lose her sister. Or what she had left of her sister. And so, with a heavy heart, Lucy made her choice.

"I'm happy for you."


Caspian rode through the woods as fast as hard as he could, and he could feel his steed begin to weaken. Taking a break on the poor beast, he slowed to a trot, and brought them beneath the sheltering leaves of a weeping willow. The ribbon-like branches would protect them from the wind and the vying eyes of by-passers.

As Caspian dismounted, he realized his entire body hurt. The muscles in his thighs protested every move, and the tendons in his arms and back were drawn and tight. Even his eyes were tired and dry from too many miles in the wind.

There was no way he could ride any more without killing the horse, or injuring himself further. But Caspian had spent his childhood in the rugged outdoors, and had no problem sleeping in the grass. He attended to his horse first, taking off her tack while whispering soothing nonsense in her ears. Thanking her, he gently smoothed his hand over her sweaty fur, stroking the tensed muscles in her neck. Then he let her graze in peace, and not caring how much he would hurt in the morning, nestled himself between the tree's roots.

However rest would not find him, though he was worn out and nearly dead. His mind was alive with thoughts and warnings about the direction his life was heading. All of his friends, the small handful he had, were getting married. Not because they were in love, but because their families were in love with connections. A marriage was about heirs and dowries, not about the way the bride and groom felt.

There was a common belief that a marriage would last longer if the couple fell in love after the ceremony. But Caspian believed that love should be there from the start, even though the only examples of love he'd ever even heard of were the illicit affairs of married servants, who held secret trysts in the pantry cupboard. It was why he always made requested that his vegetables be hand washed - twice.

Just when he thought the tide of sleep was pulling him away from the shores his weariness, he heard something. But it wasn't just a sound, it was also a feeling. At first, it was little more than a breeze whispering in his ears, but then it became more insistent.

It was the sound of someone crying. Not sobbing, or weeping, but he could feel the hot wetness along his cheeks, and the tingling along his skin that accompanied the deepest sort of sorrow. His face was dry though, and the only thing he felt was empathy. Whoever was crying knew what kind of pain he was in.

And then he heard the smallest, almost unnoticeable sob that was the daintiest, most feminine sound he had ever heard.

It was a woman who was crying.


That night, when the world was dark, and she was alone, Lucy went up to the roof of the apartment building, and looked out at the sprawling metropolis that was London.

It was a bright, impersonal world, one that Susan apparently was desperate to be part of.

And it was a world that Lucy would never be part of. She wasn't trendy, she wasn't a realist. The world was still amazing to her, though it was quickly losing its magic.

Before she could stop herself, she was crying. Hot tears burned her cold cheeks, following the line of her jaw like a lover's kiss. But she felt as lonely and distant as ever.

"Why can't things...

"... be like they used to?"

"Lady, give me some peace, and I will answer your questions in due time," Caspian whispered beseechingly to the voice drifting on the wind, before succumbing to the sleep he desperately needed.

"I will answer your questions in due time."

She did not know where that answer came from, but it was enough to soothe her for one night.


Well, there it is, people. Chapter four is on its way!