Alright, folks, I'm glad you've liked the last few chapters. But let's clear up a few things, shall we?

And now, ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you a FAQ section!

Q. Does this story take place in an alternate universe?

A. Yes. The Pevensie children have never gone to Narnia.

Q. Where and when does this story take place then?

A. It takes place in present-day England, as well as the Narnia that Caspian lived in.

Q. Why did you do this?

A. My new friend, Michele, and I discussed this in detail. I'll give you an excerpt from an email I sent to her.

"I like working with alternate universes because staying canon really restricts what can happen. The characters in a lot of canon stories become two-dimensional, like paper doll versions of the original creation. Somebody cuts out an existing character, and then gives them thin, flimsy and poorly attached layers. I didn't want to do that to Caspian and Lucy."

There, happy?

No?

Oh.

Okay.

Well, another reason I went the AU route is so I could make this a rather adult story. Lucy was a child in the original story. I wanted to her to be more grown-up when she met Caspian. That way, she can be somewhat desirable. Pedophilia is just nasty. Good heavens!

Q. Why is Caspian so chauvinistic and pig-headed?

A. Because he's a prince, and he's never had to be anything more when it comes to the pursuit of women.

Q. But Lucy is just a child! How could she be of any desire to him?

A. Again, I am going with the movie version of the Telmarines. They've black hair and sallow skin. For this story, Lucy is pale with brown hair, so she'd be very different, exotic even, and lovely in her own right. We're all fascinated by what we've never seen.

Q. I don't see a plot.

A. That's because there isn't one yet. Geez, people, what do you want from me? It's only been six chapters!

Anyways, that's all for now. On to the story!


I've been shot.

All things considered, Lucy was surprisingly calm and level-headed. It was like she was completely separate from the situation. She knew there was an arrow wedged deep in her shoulder. She knew that it hurt like nothing she had ever known. It was a sharp, quick pain, and it resonated throughout her entire body; almost like a sudden blast of cold air or shock of electricity.

I wonder if Peter has ever been shot, she thought as she started shaking uncontrollably. The blood trickling down her chest was hot and sticky, and the salt in it stung her skin. But she could not lift her hands to wipe it away. Her arms hung like dead weight at her sides; not even her fingers twitched.

I can't breathe! And she could not. Every time she drew in air, the air cut even more into her muscle. It only caused her to gasp and wheeze. She was paralyzed. None of this was supposed to be happening. She was not supposed to be there. Those men were not supposed to be real.

Lucy covered her face with hands, and let out a low cry of despair.

I want to go home.


Caspian stared stupidly at the arrow piercing her flesh. It was short, and the wood was thick. It had come from one of the guard's crossbows!

"Stay back!," he shouted as he looked over his shoulder at the approaching soldiers. With every drop of blood lost, she went further into shock. Her eyes were unfocused and glassy – she looked like she had no idea what was going on. When she cried out into her palms, he felt his heart twist in his chest. As he watched the thin stream of blood trail down her chest, he realized she was no nymph sent to tempt him. She was human, and probably experiencing very human pain.

Suddenly, he was alert and full of motion. His hands flew to her hips, turning her until he could embrace her back was to him. "Shhh," he whispered soothingly into her ear as he embraced her to his chest. She shivered and whimpered in his hold, but she did not try to break away. This kind of violence must have been new to her. Such a wound would have taken down the mightiest warrior. For a young girl, small and slight, it must have been horrific. Even still, she did not fall to the ground in agony. She just shook against him and gasped. He wondered if there was more contributing to her state than the arrow.

"Glozelle, bandages and hot water," he called to the general. Caspian knew enough first aid to wrap cuts bruises, but the arrow had to come out. Of all the people Caspian knew, Glozelle would know the most about an injury like hers. Behind him, he could hear some of the guards rush back to the camp, obviously scrambling for healing herbs and extra gauze. The others lingered on the beach, staring curiously at their prince's back as he rocked back and forth in the sand.

"Don't worry, you'll be okay," he murmured in a soft voice. Even if he had not wanted her, she would have still been a young girl mistakenly shot by his men. The fact that did he want her made it ten times worse. Words escaped him as his arm stole around her svelte waist. His free hand smoothed up and down her arm, in what he hoped was a relaxing manner. He could do little more than lay his cheek against the crown of her head and coo softly into her hair.

She smelled so natural, like blackberries and pear nectar.

"Everything's fine," he sighed as he pressed his lips to the skin behind her ear.


Glozelle had been the one to notice the prince had been missing, and the first to run to the river. But he had not been the one to fire a crossbow. It had been a young soldier, Epaphras, and he had just been doing his duty. The man, who was no older than Caspian, looked distraught as his prince fussed over a young girl. They had not gotten a good look at her, but they all saw her arm wind up.

Assaulting the prince was a crime punishable by death. All threats were dealt with accordingly.

"You followed the protocol," Glozelle assured the sentry before rushing for his medical kit. With a speed that even the youngest sprinter could envy, he got his supplies and returned to his royal charge. But he was nearly floored by what he saw as reached the prince.

Encircled the strong arms of Caspian, was a young lady like he had never seen. Now he knew why the prince was so curious about nymphs. He would have been too if he had been holding her. She was both pale and dark, like early evening. To stain her fair skin with blood was like ruining the first snow of winter with flagrant footsteps. Once he got over his astonishment, he came to his knees before her.

Caspian looked at him with sharp, hawkish eyes. The demand in his gaze was clear – fix this, and fix it now.

He started by taking his off his riding coat to cover her bare legs. Even through her unfortunate circumstance, she had an aura the demanded respect. The least he could do was afford her the dignity of clothing.

"Dear, you need to calm down," he said in steady, even tone. Glozelle cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over his skin, much like he did to settle down his nieces. It did the trick. Her eyes, nearly black in the dim light, shakily met his. She was terrified and bewildered, but her focus was turning outward. He could see her conquering her shock. Her lips trembled, but the rest of her was slowly stilling – a good sign.

"Good job, dear. Now, I need to pull the arrow out. It's good and sharp, so there's a good chance that it will come out cleanly. It will be even better if you stay still.

Though she was the one to nod in agreement, it was Caspian who looked relieved. Glozelle watched in wonder as the boy closed his eyes and sighed into her velvety, dark locks. And then his stare returned to Glozelle. The two men shared a look of determination. He gave a nearly unnoticeable tip of his head as Caspian's free arm wrapped around the girl's chest, pinning her arms to her sides.

Glozelle let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.

"I'm going to count to three, love. Don't think anything of it."

Caspian's mouth thinned into a harsh line.

"One."

Glozelle rested his left hand on her shoulder, steadying her against Caspian's chest.

"Two."

His right hand, still and sure, wrapped around the arrow. Her slight hiss of pain only made him more stable.

The prince sharply drew in a breath – he knew what was coming.

"Three!"


Caspian hissed as the girl pitched forward and let loose a keening wail. Glozelle was there in an instant, pressing a cotton compress to the wound as it let out fresh rivulets of hot blood. He held her still, letting her weep as he applied enough pressure to stem the bleeding. Caspian simply held her, his arms wrapped around her waist in a circle of warm muscle.

As she bent over, he could see her back clearly in the moonlight. And what he saw was deeply troubling. On either shoulder were four quick cuts, red and scabbed over. Each scratch was identical in size and evenly spaced.

They must have been claws, but there were so perfect, so deliberately placed. They did not come from a house cat. Whatever animal inflicted them had large paws. But if an animal had attacked her, why did the arrow affect her so.

And then she leaned back against him, struggling for breath as her tears slowly came to a stop. From his perspective, he could see the arrow was gone, and the wound was no bigger. Sighing in relief, he raised his eyes to Glozelle's.

"Thank you," he mouthed quietly before he rested his cheek on her crown, closing his eyes as he rocked her back and forth.

She was out of the woods, safe and warm in his arms.

Caspian could not ask for more.


Lucy could not remember being in a stranger situation. There was a man in front of her with kind eyes, and one behind her with a warm, solid chest. She was missing her clothes, and she had a rather deep cut that was bleeding quite freely.

What it made it really strange is that she was doing nothing about it. Even thinking about moving was too strenuous. It was actually almost kind of nice. It had been so long since she had simply been held. There was no harm in stealing a few moments of comfort. That, and the blood loss had her seeing spots any time she tried to budge.

The crying and the throbbing agony robbed her of her energy, leaving her with only enough strength to sag against the boy… Caspian. Yes, they called him Caspian. It was almost a nice name. His parents must have been hippies.

"I think I am going to pass out," Lucy whispered blearily to the gentleman in front of her. He looked like a weather-beaten, hardened soldier, but he had been unfailingly gentle with her.

"You most likely will. Don't worry, we won't let anything harm you as you rest."

She sighed, letting the tension ease from her body, practically going limp. The boy, Caspian, tightened his arms around her, offering the support she so desperately needed.

"Sleep now, dear," the older soldier murmured as he tucked a strand of hair behind her hair.

In the morning, she would kill all of them, and enjoy it. But for now, she felt secure enough to sleep without the fear of being killed or raped or force-fed okra.

"Lucy," she muttered as her eyes fluttered shut.

"What?," the general questioned.

"My name – it's Lucy."


Lucy.

What an odd name! Yet it seemed to suit her. Now that he knew her name, it made her even more human in his eyes. Guilt and shame poured hotly through him. He knew the law, and what would happen if it was broken. But did a weak jab from a young woman count as assault? Especially when he might have deserved it?

Glozelle obviously thought it did. The older man leveled him with a hard, stern expression.

"Caspian, I deserve some answers right now." Glozelle rarely spoke to him as an authoritarian, but the look in his eyes brooked no argument. And as his gaze flicked the barely discernible bruise on the left side of his jaw, Caspian knew this was not going to pass without a thorough discussion, and possibly an arrest.


Ooh, the boy looked positively squeamish. On any other day, Glozelle would find it amusing. But there was blood-stained, shivering, and mostly naked young woman asleep in the prince's arms. She had tried to him barely a half hour ago, and he suspected she succeeded several hours ago. That was enough to have her swinging from the gallows under Miraz's regime. What made it worse was how utterly helpless she seemed as she slept.

"We can't have this discussion with the girl like she is."

"What do you suggest we do then?" Glozelle might have been wrong, but there was a certain defiant edge to Caspian's tone.

"What 'we', Caspian? I don't think you should be the one to clean her up. Despite whatever you think, I need to take her into custody."

Glozelle, despite his fatherly affection for Caspian, was a stern believer in law and order. And, no matter how ridiculous they were, Miraz's rules needed to be followed.

He sighed, and laid a hand on Caspian's shoulder.

"Go talk to your men, specifically Epaphras. He's obviously confused. I'll take care of the blood. Don't worry. You and she have nothing to fear from me. When you have settled the soldiers, come back with a fresh tunic and a pair of pants from my saddle bags."

Caspian looked conflicted. His eyes fixed on the girl's hair. It was plain that he did not want to leave her; that he wanted to be the one to tend her.

After one long moment of contemplation, Caspian sighed in resignation. With unshakable care and softness, he transferred Lucy into Glozelle's arms. In turn, the general gently laid her in the sand, tugging his riding coat over legs, the collar reaching her waist. The boy prince stared at her for a good while, focusing on her troubled, sleeping face.

"Caspian. Go," Glozelle said firmly. And the young man did just that, though he cast one longing look over his shoulder as the young woman resting on the beach. He disappeared up the dunes into the forest. When Glozelle was sure he was out of hearing range, he dutifully set about wiping away the drying blood with the river's cold water.

"My dear girl," he whispered. "What have you done?"


I know, I know. Glozelle was an asshole in the book – conniving, ambitious, and a little bit foolish. But, again, I'm playing around with character development, and in this case, loyalty. So, I'm going to mix movie Glozelle with some of book Glozelle's characteristics.

Anyways, because I have reached over 100 reviews, I am going to have a little bit of a contest.

As a treat for the readers, I am going to write a short interlude that has nothing to do with the story's plot. It will take place in this universe, but it will not be included in the story. It's just a bonus, and exists on its own. Don't try and place it anywhere. Hell, let's just call it a one-shot.

Now, asides from the fact that it will be light-hearted and romantic, I leave the setting details up to the readers. Here is a list of options. When you review, which I hope you will, list your choices. I will form the story out of the most popular decisions.

Go to the next chapter for the ballot!