Though he referred to her as his aunt, Caspian's nurse was not related to him by blood. She was a servant, and had taken care of Caspian since his birth, first as a wet nurse, then as his nanny. If truth be told, she was more of a mother to the prince than Queen Constantina. She played with him, disciplined him, and told him stories that he would never forget. She was the one constant in his life, asides from Dr. Cornelius. If there was ever a woman that he revered more than Lucy or his Mama, it would be her.

Her niece though, Gwendolen, ran a close race with the other leading ladies of his life. Caspian did not have many trustworthy friends outside of the Pevensie children, so he valued his relationship with her. It wasn't proper for a royal to befriend a peasant, let alone a female, so they couldn't be playmates; but they were each other's confidants. He kept her secrets, and she kept his.

Now Gwen wasn't exceptionally beautiful, but neither was she plain. For a peasant she was quite the catch. Her skin was clear and perfectly olive without any scars or blemishes. She was lean, and had a long, graceful neck. Unlike most lay folk, she had enough money to keep her black curls smooth and shining, even though she kept them pulled back in a tight bun. Her real pride, however, was her face. It was surprisingly elegant; she had high cheekbones, a shapely mouth and a perfectly straight nose. Everyone focused on her eyes, and rightly so. They were spaced evenly and fringed with thick lashes. Unlike most Telmarines, who had solidly black eyes, hers were copper brown.

In spite of her decidedly good looks, Gwen didn't even consider herself tolerable. It came with the territory of being a servant to the royal family. Queen Constantina was magnificent, Prunapismia was striking, and Prince Caspian had inherited his father's handsomeness. They were the most beautiful family in all of Narnia. Gwen didn't even come close in terms of beauty. It wasn't self pity. It was just the truth.

So she couldn't understand why she was constantly mobbed by suitors, or reviled by her female neighbors in Beruna. She just thought they were mocking her for cruelty's sake. It was like they were playing a game at her expense, one that she would never understand. It was why Caspian was her only true friend. He was the only one who didn't care if she was pretty or ugly, because he was as desperate for company as she was.

Caspian trusted her so much that she was the only other person who knew of the Pevensie children. After all, she grew up hearing the same stories, and she believed in them as much as he did. And Caspian had never lied to her, so she didn't doubt him when he told him of the community living deep in the Great Woods. Just by his word alone, she grew to know the siblings, their quirks and character flaws. Gwen listened when Caspian complained of Edmund's occasional pithiness. She was the first to hear about Susan's shyness, and she certainly was there any time Caspian started waxing poetic about Lucy. But the one she wanted to learn of the most was the one Caspian rarely spoke of.

It wasn't that Caspian disliked Peter. The two boys were good friends. There just wasn't that much to say. Although he was only fourteen when he returned to Narnia, he was the primary caretaker of his family. He hunted for their food, helped his sisters with the sewing, settled disputes between the old Narnians… his time was precious, and he was always tired. It was why Caspian was closer to Lucy and Edmund. But occasionally the two boys had a few moments to go fishing or riding, and when they did, Caspian was more than happy to describe it to Gwen. Those stories were few and far between, but in her mind, Gwen had a clear picture of him in her mind.

He was a good man, serious and mature, but loving and dedicated to his family. In her aunt's stories, Peter was always depicted as handsome, a flaxen-haired youth on a white horse. He was Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia. With a sword in hand and a shield on his arm, he was Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion. Gwen knew that Peter could best Caspian or Miraz any day of the week, at anything for that matter. Whether in a dual or at a joust, Peter would always come out on top.

Peter was Gwen's prince charming, more of an ideal than an actual person. He represented all things good and noble. Peter was what Miraz and Caspian IX should've been. In her mind, she knew Peter like the back of her hand. Just hearing about him made her heart beat faster. As much as she imagined him, however, she was completely unprepared when she met him in person.

The festival of May Day lasted an entire week, with the biggest celebration being held on the eve of May Day. In the morning, there would be maypoles and flowers, but on the evening before, there were costumes and dancing. Everyone joined in the festivities, even painfully shy Gwen. At fifteen, she was still growing into her new body, which was thinner and more womanly than she was used to. Caspian, who had just turned sixteen, was having an easier time. He just packed on muscle and grew taller. He also had money though, so when he outgrew his clothes, new ones were made. Gwen had to deal with dresses that were too short and too tight in the chest (not that any of her male neighbors minded).

But on that night, it worked very well for her. One of the fun things about May Day was that it was a celebration of fertility, so women could dress like whores and get away with it. Not that she looked like a whore. She was just revealing more skin than she usually did. The dress was actually very pretty. It was robin's egg blue with a perfectly structured corset, which was unfortunately too small, but it gave her a nice hourglass figure. The skirt should've been full, but with the hoop skirt it was too short, so she took it out. Since her arms were getting longer, Gwen had to cut the sleeves off which would've been scandalous on any other day. Though she would never say it aloud, she had to admit that her shoulders were quite nice. And the corset lent her chest all sorts of charms.

Hers wasn't the most revealing and scandalous. There were fairies with bare thighs, topless men wearing deer antlers, and even a naked toddler or two. The sun had gone down, and the glow from the paper lanterns strung everywhere cast interesting shadows and created all sorts of dark corners. There were stalls with all sorts of street food, like pasties and mince pies. The faint strains of a fiddle could be heard alongside a concertina and a fife, and a few young men were Morris dancing with wooden sticks and handkerchiefs. But the majority of the crowd were laughing and running around like madmen.

Gwen weaved in between the revelers, just happy to see all the sights and costumes. She wanted to get to the maypole, where the May Queen would be announced. This year it looked like it would be one of her fellow servant girls, a twelve-year-old laundress who liked Gwen's feet for some reason. Children were strange that way.

The Festival really was a sight to behold. There were pastel ribbons strung everywhere, running from roof to roof, hanging off of clotheslines and pinned to doorways. The ground was littered with flower petals, in every color under the sun – reds, pinks, blues, yellows, purples, every color! Daisies and marigolds had been woven into ropes with ivy, and they were wrapped around every street lamp. Everywhere Gwen looked there was glitter in the windowpanes or bouquets made of lemons and limes. They world had never been so colorful or surreal.

All round her, people's faces were painted up like cats, clowns and prostitutes. Their hair were braided, coiffed, curled and teased. No one looked like themselves. She probably wouldn't even have recognized her own mother. Gwen's face was bare and her hair, as usual, was pulled back in a tight bun. She wanted to spend her money on food and maybe a mask. It wasn't a costume party without a mask.

Fate had something completely different in mind. Gwen was twenty paces away from a costumier's barrow, when all of a sudden, a man with a leather, blue fish mask instead of a head barreled towards her at full-tilt. He was wearing jerkin covered in metal scales glazed in iridescent blue paint, like the skin of a trout. It was an expensive costume, but still rather hideous. Gwen gasped as he jogged towards her, his arms laden with what looked like several bouquets and a set of fairy wings.

"Get away from me!" Gwen hissed as she backed away with a disgusted scowl. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to cover her breasts as best she could. The fish man pressed closer, laughing as he pushed away a lady dressed like a ewe. She heard that laugh before.

"Caspian?" she whispered incredulously as the man tipped the fish mask back just enough to show his face. Indeed, it was Caspian, with sweat on his brow and a smile on his face.

"Hello Gwen," Caspian chuckled. "Are you having a good time? That's a killer dress!"

"How did you get away from the castle?" Gwen looked around the courtyard they were in with a fearful frown. On the stage was a band, concertina and fife included; in the center was the maypole, bare and free of ribbons; and then there was a throng of partygoers, costumed and merry. But there were no guards or soldiers…

"Sheer dumb luck and soft soled shoes." Caspian smiled and pointed to his feet, which were clad in knee-high, navy blue stage boots. They were made of think lambskin, and indeed had soft soles.

"What are you doing here?" Gwen pressed further. "Shouldn't you be at the castle? Pruanpismia throws a masquerade ball every year."

With an amiable laugh, Caspian waved off her concerns with a single hand. "I wanted to take a friend out on the town."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't have any friends besides me and the Pevensie children."

"Yes," Caspian confirmed. "Lucy hasn't celebrated May Day in years, so I thought I'd bring her along."

Gwen gasped, her heart dropping into her stomach as her mouth fell open. A cold sweat broke out on her brow.

"Quee- Queen Lucy is here? Right now?" Gwen tucked her fingers in the collar of Caspian's shirt and jerked him forward roughly. "Queen Lucy the Valiant is in this very courtyard? Right now? Where is she?" Gwen's eyes darted from person to person, looking for a pale girl with a queenly presence. "Where, where, where?"

Caspian peered around, just as curious as she was. "She's around here some – ah, there she is!"

Holding her hands to her heart, Gwen bit down on her lower lip in excitement. It was finally happening! She was going to meet the finest queen Narnia had ever hosted! This was the moment she had waited her entire life for.

"Oh, Caspian, this is so… wow, she's small." Gwen's eyes widened as Queen Lucy tiptoed towards them. She wasn't even five-feet-tall. She, she was… small and slight, probably weighing less than one-hundred-stupid-pounds.

"Hello!" Lucy squeaked as she attached herself to Caspian's side. The dignified queen wasn't quite as dignified as Gwen expected. She was wearing a short pink dress with a fitted, pale pink corset studded in blue, white and gold crystals that swirled around like the tails of comets. The skirt fell to her knees in layers of flowing chiffon. On her feet were white satin gillies with the same crystals as her corset, and instead of satin laces, there were silver chains. Her hair was piled atop her hair in tight ringlets, but some were tangled and trying to escape their pins, as if someone had mussed them up.

The queen was pretty, very pretty indeed, but she couldn't have been more than twelve-years-old!

"Um, hello," Gwen whispered as she stared down at the much smaller girl. For a queen, she was positively miniature.

"That's a killer dress," Lucy giggled with a smile. "But you don't have a mask or jewelry! That simply won't do."

"Oh, I couldn't afford-," Gwen was cut off as Caspian practically assaulted her. In less than three seconds, she had a wreath on her head made of red roses and a three rows of pearls around her neck.

"The mask, Caspian, the mask!" Lucy giggled as she thrust something into Gwen's hands. Gwen looked down in confusion. Lucy had given her a white lace half-mask, and again, it had the same blue, white and gold crystals; but they were arranged like sparkling lashes around the mask's eyeholes.

"This really is too much," Gwen cooed honestly. Lucy's accessories were absolutely lovely, and since Gwen was bigger than the queen, they were actually understated. Gwen was all smiles as Caspian circled behind her, pinning the fairy wings he had been holding onto the back of her corset. They were like butterfly wings, made from sheer white chiffon stretched over a metal frame. There were yet more crystals, and they provided the stripes and circles usually found on monarchs.

"They look perfect on you," Caspian said distractedly as he clipped the last clasp in place. "Well, enjoy your night!" With one final, cheeky grin, he picked Lucy up bridal-style and darted away into the crowd. Gwen narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Why would Lucy willingly sacrifice a costume that was clearly more expensive than a herd of riding ponies? Her dress, while pretty, was incomplete without the wings and flower crown. Maybe she was going to buy a new costume and didn't want to throw away her old one? Perhaps they were going for a ride in the meadow?

"Lucy? Where the fuck are you?"

Or maybe they were ditching Lucy's one of a kind costume because a crazy man knew what she was wearing. Gwen dropped the mask like it was burning.

'That little wretch!'Gwen thought to herself as she spun around fearfully. 'He tricked me! I'm going to kill him!'

With a horrified gasp, Gwen could only stand still as a statue as a tall man in a hooded cloak marched towards her. She couldn't see his face, but his stance was stiff and broad. Clearly, whoever he was, he was on the warpath – and she was standing in his way.

Since certain death was assured, she thanked her lucky stars that she had gotten at least gotten a glimpse of Queen Lucy. Sure, she was a rat fink and a midget, but at least Gwen could die knowing that the Pevensie family did exist.

"There you… aren't," the hooded man said, deflating instantly when he finally reached Gwen. His shoulders slumped forward and his jaw relaxed. Though she couldn't see much of his face, she could saw a disappointed scowl on his face as he eyed her from head to toe. He must've seen something he didn't like, because his mouth tightened unpleasantly.

"Where did you get this?" he question roughly as he tapped the roses on her head. Gwen recoiled, afraid he might strike her. The hooded man sighed.

"I'm not going to hit you. But where did you get these? Did you steal them?"

"No sir," Gwen whispered, her mouth dry. "Caspian and Lucy gave them to me." Gwen's eyes widened as she realized what she'd said. The hooded man hadn't mentioned any names to her directly, and Gwen had revealed both Caspian and Lucy as acquaintances. She fully expected him to rant, rave and shake her like a rag doll. But he didn't. Instead, he stepped back a foot, his mouth turning down as he looked her over yet again. This time, he focused on her shoulders, face and hair.

"I know who you are," he intoned softly, with some wonder in his tone. "You're Gwen."

Gwen nodded. The hooded man stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Come with me," he whispered, taking her gently by the hand as he pulled her towards a darkened alley. She followed wordlessly, surprised by the warmth of his palm. As he pulled her behind some empty barrows, Gwen watched the crowd carefully. There were still no guards, and no one was paying attention to them. Her neighbors probably thought the man was only dressed like a bandit. It was a masked party after all, and he wasn't the only person parading around as a thief.

The darkness shielded them from any prying eyes, but without the glow of torches and candles, the moon cast an eerie blue glow on everything. Even the din of music and voices disappeared. Without the crowd pressing into her, Gwen felt naked and exposed. The hooded man cast a quick glance at the town square.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," he told her quietly. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just frustrated."

He heaved a heavy sigh and pulled the hood of his cloak back. What an incredibly handsome man was hiding under all that wool! His face was square and stern, all sharp angles and straight planes. The hair on his head was as golden as the sun, and it hung around his jaw in long, loose waves. He had the beginnings of a beard, and cornflower blue eyes. There was only one person he could be.

"You're Peter, aren't you?" Gwen gasped, pressing her hands against her heart to keep it from beating out of her chest. "You're Lucy's brother."

He smiled without any mirth.

"I am. And from what Caspian's told me of you, I can trust that you'll keep this knowledge to yourself."

Gwen nodded and looked down at her feet, soundly shy around the High King. It seemed disrespectful to look him in the eye. He was a king in any case, and she was just a peasant wearing his sister's costume. What right did she have to look at him like a sibling (or in her case, a lover).

But Peter had other ideas. She didn't hear him move, but in a flash he was standing in front of her. He slipped his fingers under her chin and lifted her face so that she was looking at him.

"I can only thank you for keeping secrets, but when it comes to Lucy, tell me everything from here on out. She may be an adult in spirit, but unfortunately, she's back to being a child. I can't trust her to behave anymore, not with Caspian encouraging her to go off and raise hell."

Then he smiled, placed both of his hands on her shoulders, and quickly kissed her cheek. Gwen's cheeks erupted in a bright red flush.

"You are more than welcome to visits my sisters and me any time you like. Caspian knows the way. Now, good night Gwen."

And then, after pulling his hood back up, he padded away, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost. Gwen couldn't even speak, let alone move. Her heart was beating erratically like it couldn't be contained. The High King, the golden boy, kissed her. Without provocation! Right there, in the dark, with hundreds of Telmarines just a few steps beyond.

Gwen sat down on an upturned bucket, not trusting her knees to keep her standing. She didn't believe in love at first sight.

But love at first kiss seemed perfectly plausible.