Disclaimer: I don't own Narnia or any characters you may recognize from the books or the movies, I wish I did but I don't... I also don't own the Narnian Calendar. It belongs to Elecktrum who was kind enough to let me borrow it for my story. Her own stories are awesome and you should go read them too.

Summary: You know the story of the Horse and his boy. But what was happening in Narnia? A northern campaign. Trouble on the homefront and a prince's invitation. Will anything be as Peter left it?

A/N: If you have not read the first ten stories in the A Light in the Darkness main story arc (Awakened, Shadowed, Revealed, Concealed, Rekindled, Refracted, Reflected, Veiled, Unveiled, and Eclipsed), I highly recommend you do so for the full experience. However, I have included a quick summary of the previous stories so if you want to give this one a whirl on its own, you can.

Chapter Ten: Possibilities

30 Fairdawn 1014

"Push them back!" Peter raised Rhindon high in the air, hoping to catch the attention of as many soldiers as possible, and then pointed at the motley threesome before him. "Push them back!" Izar reared, his hooves pawing the air and his blue horn glinting in the light of the setting sun, and then leapt into a full gallop.

The Giants cringed and shouted in dismay until one of them, the largest of the lot, raised a wicked-looking spear with a curved head and bellowed a vulgar word. Peter raised his shield as Izar galloped closer. He wasn't going to permit any of this lot to defile Narnia and harm innocents whose only crime was to appeal to the Northern Giants' palates.

The Giant was bearing down on them. Peter tensed. "Now, Izar!"

The Unicorn squealed as he slid to a halt and then dashed to the right, ducking under the spear, the hook at the end snagging the back of Peter's jerkin and ripping through the leather and the tunic beneath. He shuddered as cool air kissed his back and wished he'd had time to put on his proper armor before the Ettins had blundered right into camp. Ignoring the slight discomfort, Peter swung Rhindon at the Giant's right leg while Izar targeted the left leg, tearing a gash with his horn. The Giant howled in pain and then stumbled to his knees as his legs gave out. Peter braced himself a second too late and the Ettin's flailing hand swiped him off Izar's back. Rocks dug into Peter's unprotected back as he tumbled to the ground, Rhindon flying from his grasp.

"Got you. Got you," the Ettin chanted as he grabbed Peter by the legs, pulling him toward his mouth.

"No." Peter squirmed to get his shield free and hissed in pain as his back was gouged by a particularly sharp rock and the rent in his clothing continued to grow. At this rate, he was liable to have the shirt ripped off his back. Sliding his arm free of the shield's straps, he caught it by the top and then shouted, "No!" Swinging the point of the shield with all his might, he silently cheered as the Giant yelped when the shield's sharp point cut a furrow across his hairy knuckles.

The Ettin's grip on his legs loosened but then it tightened again before Peter could ready his shield for another strike. The Ettin dragged him across the ground with a sharp yank. Peter's breathing was coming faster now. He could hear the taunting laughter of the Ettins as they enjoyed putting pressure on his injured leg, on his broken ribs, pressing down and laughing. Such horrible laughter. He tried to swing the shield but his arms refused to obey. The shield slipped from his numb fingers. The Ettin brought his other hand up, caught hold of his jerkin and tunic, and yanked.

The sound of ripping fabric filled his ears and then jerkin and tunic alike gave way and he was left exposed. Panic began clawing at his insides. Peter grasped for Rhindon but it wasn't there. His gaze found the sword, partially obscured by a rock, some ten feet away. It might as well have been a league. The Ettin's horrid laughter and fetid breath washed over him. Peter groped at his belt, feeling frantically for the hilt of his dagger. His trembling fingers closed around leather-wrapped wood and he jerked the dagger free. The Ettin laughed again as Peter slashed at his thick fingers.

Peter swallowed hard. Terror pressing in, urging him to end it before the Giants could abuse him further. But . . . Thalia. He didn't know what was going with his Flower but he knew she would be devastated if he didn't come back to her. Flipping the dagger around, Peter threw it with all his strength.

The Ettin howled and abruptly turned Peter loose as he reached up, still howling, to paw at his wounded eye. Peter heard the pounding of hooves and rolled to the side. The Ettin's cries were cut off mid-howl and then Peter saw hooves enter his field of vision again just before a large hand was thrust into view. Grasping it, he allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. Oreius gave him a look and then handed him the dagger. "I believe you misplaced this, Wolfsbane."

Peter accepted the dagger and quickly cleaned it with a torn section of tunic. Slipping it back into his sheath, he glanced up at Oreius. "Is the camp secured, General?"

"Aye." The Centaur looked him over critically. "Allow the healers to see to those scratches, Wolfsbane. The ground here is not clean."

"Yes, General."

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Oreius had barely returned to his tent after making sure that his golden colt was being seen to by a healer when a sharp cry filled the air and then Tris darted into his tent. He frowned when he saw her courier pouch was empty but said nothing as the Merlin landed on his wrist. She bowed her head once. "General Oreius, I've news."

"Tris?" His golden colt dashed into the tent, eyes eager, as he looked from the Merlin to Oreius himself. "What news? What did Kat write?"

"Nothing it would seem, My King."

"What?" Eagerness turned to confusion and even a bit of fear as he turned to the Merlin. "Why did you return without the Princess Royal's message?"

The Merlin ruffled her feathers. "I did not, High King. But she did not write a message this time." Tris ducked her head slightly, combing through her feathers with her beak. Oreius cleared his throat and gave her pointed look. She nodded, though she shifted about on his wrist with nervousness or perhaps embarrassment as she continued, "The Princess Royal bade me give you this message, High King, and to say it exactly as she said it to me."

She stopped again, more than confirming Oreius' suspicions that Alambiel had not been very civil, but Peter gestured impatiently. "Don't worry, Tris. I won't hold Kat's words against you. Just please give me the message."

Tris flapped her wings. "Peter, if you ask me one more time about Thalia, I will personally come up north and beat you up and down a wall until you learn to be patient and deal with having limited information. I don't care if that means I end up crawling all the way. No one is dying or in mortal peril. But you will be if you don't stop bothering me or making Oreius bother me. Next time you want information because of what Lucy wrote, you may bother her and not me. Thalia will write when she can. I will write when I can. Aslan, preserve me. Tris, don't tell them that part."

The colt's jaw had dropped in a manner that would have been amusing if Oreius weren't concerned about Alambiel's biting reply. The last time she had been so short, she had been seriously ill. Peter broke the silence. "Come up north and beat me?"

Tris ducked her head. "Yes, High King, that is what she said."

Oreius hid a frown as he turned his attention to the colt. "I think, Your Majesty, that it would be best to leave off this line of questioning until either your sister or your wife can provide the answers."

"Do you think Kat would really come north for the sole purpose of beating me?"

Oreius hesitated. "I think she is experiencing one of her moods. Very dangerous. Best not to antagonize her further." He eyed the Merlin. "Did the Princess Royal have a message for me?"

"The Princess Royal said her message wasn't polite enough for me to carry it, General."

"Ah." He looked at the High King. "I think, Sir Wolfsbane, it would be in your best interest to return to your tent and get some rest. Try not to worry. I do not believe Alambiel will truly come north as long as we do not provoke her."

His colt hesitated and then nodded. "Thank you, Oreius."

He waited until the colt had gone before he questioned Tris further. "How did the Princess Royal fare?"

The Merlin fluttered her wings and shifted about on his wrist as Ardon ducked inside but Oreius ignored his friend for the moment. He fixed the Bird with an unyielding stare. She turned her head slightly to look him in the eye. "The Princess Royal gave her message between regurgitation. I do not believe it was purposeful."

"Is the Princess Consort suffering the same fate?"

"That is what I heard, General."

Oreius pursed his lips then dismissed the Merlin, allowing her to fly off. He looked around his tent, wishing he could be in Cair Paravel and investigate the matter himself. To distract himself from such impossible thoughts, he spoke without turning, "What news do you have, Ardon?"

The other Centaur's voice was brimming with pride as he answered, "Alithia is carrying a foal. I received her letter just before the Ettins attacked."

Oreius turned around and clasped forearms with his friend. "You have my congratulations. Now we must fight all the harder to return home. I'm sure Alithia will appreciate your company sooner rather than later."

The other Centaur chuckled. "Based on Tris' report, you and perhaps even the High King shall have the same motivation."

He froze. "Is that what you think?"

Ardon didn't answer right away, his smile fading slightly, as he replied, "Alambiel was ill the last time she carried a foal, was she not?"

He remembered. "Very." He crossed to the table holding his correspondence, charts, maps, and fresh parchment and ink. He had already written Alambiel's name when he paused and looked up at his grinning friend. "Don't tell anyone, Ardon, not even the High King. I will ask Alambiel and if she confirms it, then I will inform the High King in private. We don't want the Giants to learn anything they might use against us, especially with their determination to breach Narnia's defenses." He added as an afterthought, "And, we don't need any distracting rumors."

"Of course, Oreius." Ardon crossed to him and squeezed his shoulder. "She will be all right."

Oreius didn't respond. He only stared at the blank sheet of parchment, attempting to choose the words that would ask his question without either opening old wounds or provoking Alambiel to the point that she dragged herself north for the sole purpose of beating him or simply destroying his armory. He had not even considered the possibility before Ardon mentioned it. Not even for the Princess Consort, although that too was possible. He prayed to Aslan that their loved ones in Cair Paravel were recovering if it was not as Ardon suggested. And if it was . . . He prayed the campaign would come to a swift end.

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A/N: Please Read and Review! Hey, look, someone is definitely having a baby! Ardon and Alithia! I know you're all ecstatic for their new addition. :) Leave a review and let me know what y'all thought about this one.