Well, it's been a good bit but hello again! I hope everyone is enjoying their holiday break. I've finally had time to sit down and actually write something that I didn't hate. Here's hoping you guys enjoy this!

(Darius)

Darius liked the night. It was quiet and the people who appeared to be employed specifically to hound him with questions, sympathy, or therapy were sound asleep. He'd long since worn out both him and his sparring partner, Theon. Darius' gangly arms still stung from the blindly executed blows. He was good, he knew that. Rilian would never have told him as much if it were not the truth. But that skill seemed to have vanished right along with his brother. Lately, he was lucky if the flat of Theon's dull practice sword didn't crash against his ribs.

Tonight, he probed a wine colored bruise on his thigh and a long, swollen cut on the inside of his cheek. His injuries were his own fault for being so distracted and probably karma for breaking Theon's nose. He stretched out his sore legs, boots planting against the stall wall parallel to him. Normally, Cleo would occupy this stall and Rilian would spend half the night brushing her mane until it was as smooth as a nymph's bottom.

Often, Rilian would pretend he was already King here. Darius would think up complex and mind twisting problems for him to solve just like their father, Caspian, dealt with every day. Sometimes Rilian was too tired to do more than shrug. Sometimes they talked until the sun warned that their mother would soon be searching their rooms to prepare them for a new day.

"A royal hound gets loose into one of the villages. He eats a simple farmer's livestock of chickens. The farmer won't take money for compensation, but insists the dog be killed as justice," Darius spoke out loud. Though his brother was not around to hear, it instilled a calming sense of normalcy for him to do it.

Lazy flies, with their wings working half-speed in the cold, buzzed about the stable. Wooden beams as wide as Darius' torso held the walls and roof in place. Vines stretching from his mother's garden snuck in to weave along the railing of each pin. Little amber winter flowers bloomed in the cloudy starlight. Fresh hay smelling more of bowel movements than something edible for animals lounged across the stone floor.

He wondered if Rilian was thinking of the stable right now, wherever he was. Was he wishing he could be talking to his brother as well? Or was he in too much pain to think much of anything? Would his father's mysterious friends and supposed "chosen" of Aslan reach him in time to prevent his life from leaving him?

Why were strangers being allowed to save the heir to the throne?

Darius was saddling his sand colored horse, Tut, before he even knew he'd made a formal decision. Tut turned his eyes on his master, one green and one black, playful nature making him warily stamp his feet at Darius' rigid preparations.

"Don't you miss Ril?" Darius asked as he buckled the worn leather saddle into place. Tut snorted and nudged the one of the Queen's potted flowers. "They'll be worried, sure, but someone competent has to do this. We can't trust foreigners to fulfill the job of a Prince."

He placed his foot into a stirrup and swung to reach its twin. Gathering the reigns, he swept up his heels in a firm kick. Out through the night they tore. Cool wisps of wind gnawed through his too thin sleep attire. Don't knights usually wear armor? Darius was too determined; he would not turn back now.

Normally, guards watched the gates even through the darkest of nights. Tonight, there was a baffling lack of people. He did not have to convince anyone to let him out of the castle. Instead, Tut nudged the gate open with the crown of his head and they galloped on.

Darius leaned forward in the saddle to keep his body from becoming too relaxed in any one position. Falling asleep out here would do Rilian little good. A growl from his stomach reminded him of the fact that he'd trained through dinner.

Upon approaching a fork in the road, Darius knit his fingers into the horse's mane in consideration. He had not the first clue which direction to go towards. He slid to the ground, kicking up a patch of dust as his feet planted firmly. Approaching one direction, so as to inspect each possibility, Darius rubbed the thin trail of stubble under his chin. He might only be 17, but soon he would have a beard like his father and Rilian.

With little to see on the right except for some distant glimpses of mountaintops, he paced to the left road. This would lead him to the nearest village. That much he knew. Geographically, it was the safest bet. However, if Rilian was some place safe, Darius could not help thinking he would have found his way home by now.

He was just starting back to Tut when a flash of sunlight in the dark brought him up short. It was not the sun, he discovered, but a great lion whose coat seemed to produce its own light. He remembered the stories his parents told him about meeting Aslan. How they were afraid and in awe at the same time. Instead, all Darius felt was rage. The emotion ravaged him relentlessly until a scream escaped his clenched teeth.

Oh, he was angry at Aslan. This was the lion that was meant to protect his people. He was meant to watch over the rulers he elected. Instead, he let Rilian be taken or worse…

Before he knew it, tears streamed down his cheeks, freezing up as the cold slowly found its way through the flaming anger.

"Do you not trust my plans, Darius?" the lion spoke.

The melodic sound only served to scrape at the gaping hole in the young boy's chest. "Save him," Darius demanded. His voice cracked and he was a child again. He was a kid playing dress up his Caspian's armor. He was no knight meant to save the day.

"It is not my place to interfere."

"And what is my place? I am no use here. I am not one of your elite chosen."

"Aren't you?" Aslan asked reasonably.

Darius blinked hard and allowed his body to sway so that he leaned against Tut. "No mind games. Please just…just tell me what to do."

For a minute, he believed that the mysterious creature might obey his wishes. Then the corner of the cat's lips quirked up and Darius thought of testing just how "all-powerful" he really was. "In the days to come you must be more than strong. You will be the backbone of your family. Your mother will need you more than ever."

"Rilian is who she needs. Just bring him back and everything will be fine!" Darius was letting his anger get the best of him, but he no longer cared. This was not someone who would help him, but rather someone who wanted to put more riddles into his mind.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple, my son."

The fury was quickly being replaced by a sleepiness he could not fight. He swayed on his feet and blinked hard. When his eyes opened again, he was no longer at the forked road, but back in the stable.

"Son," the calling voice repeated.

Darius looked up to see Caspian leaning against the stall door with an amused glimmer in his aged eyes. The boy was too startled to resist when his father pulled him to his feet.

"Let's get you inside before your mother finds out you've been tempting pneumonia. She'll have the servant's heads, then mine, then yours." Caspian ruffled Darius' long reddish/brown hair and tucked him under his arm.

He was no closer to understanding what Aslan meant. He was home, though. And at least now he knew that was where he belonged.