Here is the next chapter. This is all for you. ALL FOR YOU!

Much love to you.

Oh yeah, you know what I'm talkin' about.

Also, all of the guards are original characters. Their roles are so minor, that I did not feel like scouring every source to finding canon guards. So, nyeh.

By the way, you can find all of the names and their meanings at Behindthename(dot)com.

The hours passed so slowly that Lucy actually had time to get to know the guards. Of course, it was only because they would not leave her alone. She figured that if she got them to talk, they would not ask her incriminating questions. This place, this Narnia, was still too confusing to her. She did not know if she was in another country, in another world, or in any world at all. Part of her realized she might actually be dead. She did come from a Christian family, so there was a strong probability that this was her limbo. It was not Hell. At least, it did not seem to be Hell, though it certainly was punishing. It could not be heaven, as her parents and Elvis were not there.

But, the larger part of her felt alive – which was why she got to know the guards.

The highest ranked and oldest was Raban at forty-two, grey haired with a grizzled beard. He reminded Lucy of movie stars who only got sexier as they aged, like George Clooney and Sean Connery. She could totally see herself swooning over him, if it were not for his mean nature and penetrating glare. It was obvious he did not like her.

Next was Naoise (pronounced NEE-sha). Naoise was thirty-eight, graying at the temples, and a blacksmith when he was not protecting the prince. He offered to make Lucy a new pair of earrings when he noticed one of hers was missing. This made him officially cool in her book.

Following Naoise was Faramond, age thirty-three. He had close-cropped black hair and a dimple in his cheek whenever he smiled. When not playing soldier, he lived at home with his younger sisters, three and five respectfully. His kind smile and honest eyes reminded Lucy of a golden retriever. When she got back to England, she was buying a puppy.

Then came Balder, thirty, who was not balding. In fact, he had a short, black pony tail tied low on his neck. Balder enjoyed hunting, hunting, and more hunting. The loves of his life were his two hunting dogs. Freya was a water dog best used for duck hunting, while Odin was perfect at taking down large prey. Lucy was very uncomfortable, as he kept rubbing his crossbow like he wanted to shoot her.

After Balder came Liber. Evander was twenty-eight, top of his class, and very unhappy as a soldier. It was a job he was good at, not one he enjoyed. He had always wanted to be a florist or tailor. He also stared at the prince a bit too much. Lucy figured if she ever needed to go dress-shopping, he would be a willing partner.

And then there was Epaphras. His parents were successful merchants looking to become nobility, or at least get as close as possible to the royal family. So, they practically sold him to the training school, where he whored his way into a service position. At any rate, that's what Glozelle told her after Epaphras had apologized for shooting her by telling her she had nice legs. When she accepted his apology by punching him in the nose, Glozelle actually thanked her.

And then there was Caspian.

He was prince of this so-called Narnia, the nephew of King Miraz; whom she was being presented to as a criminal. Yeah, she was soooo looking forward to that. The only other information she had about him was that he had dark eyes, and was twenty years old. Every time she even looked at him, he withered. Even when she was not glaring at him, he withered. Maybe her aura still screamed of anger and injustice.

Caspian did attempt to get on her good side by helping her fold her laundry. Unfortunately, he picked up a lacy black panty, and would not let go. She could tell by his blush and slightly horrified expression that it was accidental, but she was too tired and too angry to find it cute.

Night did eventually fall. This time she rode with Naoise, who treated her with a little more care than Glozelle. Together with Caspian, they would take a slightly longer route outside the city. Then, they would take some alley ways to the inn. It seemed like a simple plan.

Glozelle and the other men did not even say goodbye as they took off to the city. The two groups just took their separate paths. Lucy could not get over how pristine everything was. The sky was so perfect – not a star was hidden by light pollution or smog. For God's sake, she had a moon shadow. The town, large in its own right, was lit like the soft flickering of a candle's flame. It was but a speck of light nearly swallowed by the night around it. She could hear the faints sounds of humanity on the wind – music, laughter, shouting, but no cars or anything of the sort. This was a place that time kindly forgot.

But something smelled wrong. At first it was just a faint annoyance – something she could ignore. But they must have been moving closer to it. It was foul, rank, like something spoiled and left out to rot. Soon it was choking her, creeping down her throat. She had to press her face between Naoise's shoulders to keep from gagging. The scent was sickly sweet and acidic, rancid and burnt. She thought they might be approaching a trash heap, but she could not see the tell tale piles of garbage.

"What is that awful stench?"

Naoise tilted his head to the left. She tried to see what he was indicating, but all she could see was a stripped tree with some Spanish moss. And then it hit her.

That was no tree.

It was a gallows.

And that was not Spanish moss hanging from it.

"What…"

"He tried to steal some gold from Miraz's carriage at knife point."

"Did he know it was the king's?"

"No."

And she had hit the crown prince.

What's going to happen to me?

Lucy seemed dazed and unfocused as they sneaked their way into the city, and eventually the inn. Her knees nearly gave out beneath her when she dismounted. She followed them in without a word, letting them lead her like a horse. For the life of him, Caspian could not figure out what was wrong with her. She had been firecrackers and flint sparks, and now she was as cold and lifeless as ashes. When they got to the room, she went and sat on the bed without a word.

Looking lost and hopeless simply did not suit her.

Dismissing Naoise with a wave of his hands, he took slow, unthreatening steps toward the listless young woman.

"Lucy…?," he asked quietly as he came to kneel before her. She was staring at her hands, which bit into her bare legs in white knuckled fists. If she gripped any harder, she would break her skin. "Lucy," he said once again, a little more firmly. Caspian wrapped his hands around her wrists, prying her nails away from her thighs. Before she could curl them into her palms, he threaded his fingers through hers. They were surprisingly cold. Something was very wrong.

"Did that man really deserve to be executed?"

"What do you… oh." He knew what the problem was.

"That won't happen to you. I'm pretty sure Miraz will give you a medal for hitting me." He had made a joke that actually made sense, something he did not do often. But all she did was retreat further into herself.

"He killed someone for unknowingly robbing the wrong person. That's something the deserves jail time, not execution."

"It's an offense punishable by death."

She looked absolutely betrayed. Those fine, dark eyes of hers were endlessly accusatory, instead of just endless.

"So my life is worth more than his, even though my so-called crime was greater than his."

"Well… Yes. It is."

"Why?," she scoffed as her mouth twisted bitterly.

"Because you are so special. I just thought that we could be friends."

It was too simple, too plain. He was not gifted with words. Women liked poets, which meant he was royally screwed.

But for Lucy, it was the most perfect thing he could have said. He finally gave her a reason why he had even pulled her from the river. He finally gave her some hope that she would not be fed to the wolves.

She had her first friend in this strange world.

Just as Caspian was about to ask for a second chance to speak his mind, Lucy drew her hands back. But he only had a second to feel dismayed – she started, well, fondling his hands. But fondling was too strong, too negative. This was actually quite nice. She was running her fingertips over his palms, his knuckles, paying special attention to every line and crease.

"You have big hands," she said idly as she ran her thumb over the base of his wrist. She seemed quite content to survey each callous and cuticle.

"They're pretty clumsy and not very gifted. I don't treat them very well, either." Caspian could not help but notice that her hands were the antithesis to his. They were small and pale, and obviously well cared for, however not to the point of vanity. They were soft, but they were still hands – a worker's tool, as well as an artist's.

"They're good hands." He had never received a better compliment. "So, you'll make sure I don't die tomorrow?"

"I promise."

But she could not get the sight of that man out of her head. Her mind entertained her with thoughts of a mangled, fetid corpse left to burn in the sun, a rotting feast for swarming flies and crying ravens.

Her fears and stomach were somewhat settled with what had to be the heartiest meal she had ever had. The two of them sat down at the small, scrubbed wooden table, where they enjoyed a thick mutton stew cushioned by rice pilaf. A healthy diet was the last thing on her mind when they brought out freshly made butter and bread so rich it clogged her arteries. She nearly died when he brought her spiced pudding drizzled with honey.

Caspian could not believe how hungry she was. She was not slovenly as she ate, but she was definitely in a hurry to taste everything. It was mostly his fault – he should have given her something to eat earlier. Looking at her now, taking obvious delight in every flavor, it was well worth starving her. He would keep that to himself.

"Can I have that?" She pointed to his peach cobbler with obvious envy.

"Go ahead."

Caspian stared, disheartened, at the small figure nestled sweetly among the covers of the four-poster bed. He had lied to her. He was not sure if he could save her Miraz's wrath. There was no guarantee that she would not get the noose. Feeling much older than he actually was, he collapsed into his chair. Everything was going so fast. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. He had never saved someone, only to send them to their death

He was beginning to think that she just fell from the sky. There was too much she did not understand, too much that was new to her. He was certain of one thing – she was not Telmarine, and she was not from Narnia. He had visited neighboring countries, but he had been much younger. Maybe things had changed? And the world was very vast – perhaps she was from some unexplored territory.

But even foreigners unaware of customs and laws were not safe from the ax. If anything, Miraz could use her to start a war.

The door opened and closed, the lock clicking into place. Heavy footsteps fell across the wooden floor, coming to a stop some feet behind him.

"I have to bring her to Miraz. You know he works above the courts on matters like this."

"What can I do to keep her safe?"

"Short of admitting you tried to force yourself on her, nothing."

Caspian's heart dropped to his stomach. Glozelle's hand fell on his shoulder, perceptibly in what he thought was a fatherly motion.

"Get some sleep. Maybe Miraz will be lenient."

The two men went to sleep with their full minds and heavy hearts.

At least, that is what Glozelle thought.

With her stomach filled, and her fears somewhat allayed, Lucy slept deeply. It was so nice to have a mattress beneath her (albeit a lumpy one), and a blanket above her. Drawing the curtains only added to her comfort. She did not even dream about the coming day. The morning was a world away. Right now, all she had to worry about was breathing.

And whatever was touching her eyebrows. At first, it was just a minor thing, but the more she ignored it, the more insistent it became. She tried brushing it away, but it just came back every time. She finally had to open her eyes to see what was so rudely bothering her.

"Caspian…," she mumbled sleepily, her voice low and husky with sleep. Caspian could imagine her saying his name like that under much different circumstances.

"Tomorrow, when you go before Miraz, you have to say that I tried to rape you."

If he was looking to wake her up, he certainly succeeded.

"What?!"

He shushed her with a finger to her mouth, and peeked at the still sleeping Glozelle, who owed his rest to the chamomile tea he shared with a barmaid. Caspian was pretty sure they did not use tea cups. Seeing that he was not going to wake, he climbed in the bed with Lucy, who was sputtering quite cutely as he closed the curtains.

"It's the only way you can get out of this unscathed." She could only stutter and stammer as he climbed over her.

"Without evidence, I'm as good as dead!" Mercifully, she was whispering, albeit heatedly. He fumbled around in the dark, until there was a candle lit between them. He was briefly stunned by her bare shoulders, but quickly regained his footing.

"Don't worry, I'll admit to it. Miraz likes to pretend he is an honorable man. More than that, he doesn't want a scandal on the royal family. He'll try to buy you out, which is the best thing for us right now."

"Us? What us? Do you have a mouse in your pocket?"

"Listen, this is all I could think of. I don't know how else I could help you."

Lucy wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him that the plan was ludicrous – that she would never go along with it. But he looked so honest, so earnest, so intense. There were a million reasons to say no.

So she said yes.

"But it has to work. I will haunt you forever if I die."

Those eyes of his, blacker than night, were as bright with happiness as the midday sun.

"This'll work," he assured her with that funny, Spanish accent of his. "I promise you." In his excitement, and her relief, neither of them said anything about the lingering kiss he pressed to her forehead before he blew out the candle. He went back to his sleeping mat, and she returned to her dreaming.

Though now, she dreamt of Caspian, how good it felt punching him, and how warm his lips were. Caspian entertained thoughts of making Miraz look like a fool, while saving his water nymph's lovely neck from rope burn.

Glozelle, well, he was remembering how much he liked the barmaid's 'teacups'.

Ah, rape. Who knew it could be used as a 'get out of jail free' card?

Would you please review? Pretty please? With a cherry on top?

And to all of those who've added this story to your alerts, THANK YOU!

Now, could you guys review as well?

Also, there were several pop culture references.

The 'hypnotized bunnies' are from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

"You are so special. I just thought that we could be friends."

This is actually a line from a song by Hellogoodbye.

I love Pop Culture references, but it's hard to slip them in overtly. Thus, I use my subtle clues. Am I the only one watching these movies? XD

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