((Thanks guys! That last part was one of the scenes in this story I really enjoyed writing...it first showed up in 12th grade gym class and I was surprised it made it to the final, haha. Well, enjoy the next chapter!))

It started off as the smallest awareness, a creeping sensation of knowledge, like the feeling of blood returning to a limb, only without the tingling sensation and pins and needles. Then feeling soon followed, the feel of the air in the room, the cold smell it held, the fact that he kept expecting it to be musty but it never was. It always smelled clear with the slight hint of rosemary. Maybe she kept it that way so he would notice it. Then there was the warmth of the fire and how it was far enough away to be warm but not too close where it would burn. There were the other sensations, the feeling of the bonds at his wrists…ankles…everywhere…and the cold of the chair against his exposed skin. It never warmed, not even when the rest of the room was hot and the fire burned brightly in the fireplace.

It was only sensations at first, all of those, gradually infiltrating his mind and then…then awareness, then knowledge. Then he would open his eyes and see the room, the cursed room that never changed from day to day. The carpet was always the same, a thick dark green, and he was sure it was probably soft. She wouldn't have anything less than nice in her castle. And there was the fireplace, and another chair next to it that she sat in. At least, he assumed she sat in it other times, because she never was here during this time. She always had something else to do, some way to make herself absent. He waited for her that first day…thinking she would come. Figuring she would. She never did. The door remained shut, and not even a gnome or a guard would enter.

The knowledge was the worst. That came all at once, not like the awareness and the sensations. It started off with perhaps a memory, and that triggered everything else. Today he stared at the carpet, the thick green of the carpet, and remembered once a tree he saw far to the south when his father decided to take them to the Calormene border. The king had to meet with someone, and Rilian went along with him just so he could see Calormen. There had been a tree that was green like that, and it had huge leaves, palm leaves, if that's what it was. That's what he heard they were called…palm leaves, palm trees, something like that.

And then everything else returned. Memories, knowledge, all of that, in a sudden overwhelming rush that made him open his eyes and gasp against the onslaught, and still not be able to do anything about it. He couldn't move. He could only clench his fists tight, but that did nothing either, and neither did closing his eyes or moving his head or calling out and asking for someone.

No one ever came when he did that. The first two days he spent trying, but there was no one. Maybe Sara was busy, not that it mattered. Maybe the guards were elsewhere.

He wouldn't waste time with that today. The moment he remembered, he forced himself to remain calm. He closed his eyes and put his head back, ignoring the feel of the cold metal against his neck. He took several deep breaths, taking in the smell of the fire and the rosemary. There were two normal things, two sane things in this world that had suddenly gone mad. He could handle this. He was prince of Narnia, and if he couldn't keep his head in a crisis, some king he was going to make.

Rilian opened his eyes again. There was still no one there, and everything in the room was the same. Oh well…he could…he could figure something out. Hadn't his mother taught him to be resourceful?

If only she was here. If only she hadn't died. There, there was another reason he had to get out of here. He still had to find the snake and kill it to avenge her death. He couldn't do that if he stayed trapped in the kingdom of a madwoman.

He didn't know what happened, but somewhere along the line something…or multiple things, perhaps…had changed the woman he once knew as Sara. There was hardly anything left of his old friend as far as he could see…judging from the way she spoke the last time she was here with him. She was a complete lunatic bent on world domination, bent on keeping him here against his will, away from his home and his family. She was…she called herself a witch. She was a witch. A green witch, an emerald witch. That sounded about right. Emerald Witch.

He had to think of her as such. It was the only thing he could do right now, imagine her the way he saw her last and think of the terrible witch she now was. It was the only thing that could keep his mind in order when every instinct was still insisting how preposterous it was to see his old friend like this. He could convince himself that he was being kept prisoner of a witch. He could not grasp the concept of his old friend Sara locking him in this dungeon away from the world for who knows how long.

No. There had to be something here he could use to escape.

The first escape attempt hadn't gone so well. He was probably too arrogant, and hadn't thought it out well enough. This would be different…a lot more depended on this. He only had one hour, though, and that made it all the more difficult. What could he do in one hour before he lost his mind again and fell prey to Sara…no, to the Witch's…enchantments?

Maybe he could begin something one day, hide it, and then finish it the next?

But how would that work, when he couldn't even stand?

Rilian's gaze fell on the sword on the table on the other side of the room. He must have, or someone made him, put it there before the clock chimed seven. If only he could get over to it…but what good would that do? He couldn't move his arms to lift the sword, not tied up like this. It didn't matter even if he took it. But maybe…he could move his wrists still, and his hands. Maybe if he got close enough, he could use the sword to at least slice through one of the ropes at his wrist, and then it would free his hand enough to escape. There. That would work, that was a plan, albeit an absurd one. But everything here was absurd, and therefore the plans had to match. Mad plans in a mad world.

But that plan soon failed when he tried to move the chair and it wouldn't move. He tried to stand up, to maybe balance it on his back…he saw someone do that in a play once…but that didn't work. It was too heavy. Maybe she designed it that way. Maybe it was the silver. He had seen flutes made of silver, and they were all light…but she wasn't making a flute. She was making this with the intention of him never leaving.

He tried to move closer to the sword, but the chair wouldn't move. Nothing moved, and all that happened was the ropes pressed painfully into his wrist as he tried to move.

So the sword option wasn't going to work. He wouldn't even be able to have his sword with him during this hour…when he was enchanted, he remembered setting it on the table, or having one of the gnomes do it. "So you don't harm yourself," the gnomes would say. "Her majesty's orders, and yours as well." They said this very gravely, and at the time he of course agreed with them. He agreed with anything they said, whatever she said…it was disgusting, but he couldn't do anything about it. Still, it made him sick…he was a prince of Narnia, and the idea of him saying anything not of his own volition, and the memories of his absolute servitude were almost too much to bear.

But it wasn't his fault. Why would it be? All he wanted was to leave, to go home. He was sure if she came back, he would tell her…promise…that he would return if only she let him go home. He would give his absolute honor as prince of Narnia. But she never showed up…he was always alone.

So there had to be a different thing he could do. The sword wouldn't work. How tight were the bonds? He made another small movement, but that was all he could do. It was hopelessly restricted, and the bonds didn't even look like they had a weak spot where they were tied. They were smooth, all the way through, and allowed only enough movement to keep from cutting off circulation. But they were too tight to do anything else.

What about the fire?

What about the cursed fire? What could the fire do? All it did was burn, and he couldn't even move close enough in the vain hope that he could burn the bonds off. It would no doubt burn off the skin on his hand, but it would be worth the pain if he could get out of this. There were healers back home, many of them, and they all knew what they were doing. Maybe even this time he would find out where Nirisath went and look for her. The last he heard she had gone somewhere south…

But that did him no good now. Thinking of home offered no help of how to get back there. And the fire only burned, and the sword was far away…and nothing could have helped prepare him for this. He learned diplomacy, relations between people…he could settle arguments and fight with a sword and do a dozen other things that were expected of princes. But not this, this was altogether too preposterous to have anything to do with anything he learned.

But there had to be something…something she missed, something he had missed before and could see now. It was impossible that this whole thing was hopeless. It was impossible that there would be no escape, that he was trapped forever in this dungeon with only an hour to think thoughts of his own. It was impossible. He'd find something. There would be something…sooner or later it would make itself clear to him.

There was no other option. There had to be something.

The clock chimed eight, again, steadily, as it did every night. Rilian's head fell back against the chair, and he momentarily entertained the thought that the moment he escaped, the first thing he would do was destroy that accursed clock and stop that chiming…but the chimes soon ceased, leaving no room for thoughts.

Perhaps this time there was the hope of calling for someone. There were gnomes. He remembered seeing them every day, and they waited, didn't they? They waited outside the room until the hour was over and they could go back about their business. He could get one of their attentions. Brin. He remembered that gnome. But he was probably dead, because Brin had said all sorts of things to him, and Brin was…Brin was different from the rest of the gnomes. Rilian wasn't sure how, only that he had been. He told Rilian things that none of the others did.

Brin had to be dead by now. After he spoke that way…however long ago that was…the witch wouldn't be happy about that. It was hopeless to look for Brin to help him.

But maybe there were others. There were plenty of gnomes here…they all couldn't be loyal to Sara, could they? There was no such thing as a kingdom where every single subject was loyal with no hint of discontent. Even in Narnia there was discontent, hence why there were meetings and councils. He didn't hear of any of that here in Underland. Maybe there were, and he just didn't remember, after all, he had been here so long…

No. No, it had only been…eight days. Eight? No, nine, today was nine. It had been nine days. He counted, every day, and made an effort as soon as the enchantment wore off to say at least five times how many days it had been since this started. It was so hard to tell with the way time passed down here. There were no clocks in this room, which made it all the worse…it was near impossible to tell how much time he had left until the clock chimed, and by that point it was too late. He didn't know what time it was now except that it was during the evening, or perhaps the night. It couldn't be determined…there was no sun here, no moon, no stars, no way to tell.

Only memory. Nine. It had been nine days.

And there had to be someone here.

There were guards. He could get the attention of some guard, who would come, and maybe he could persuade the guard to release him like he had persuaded Brin to talk to him.

"Guard!" he called. "Guard, I demand you come here at once!" his voice was strong and authoritative.

There was the faintest sound of movement, a scraping on the other side of the door. Rilian's head came up and his fingers curled around the end of the armrest. Someone was there!

"Yes. Yes, I know you can hear me. Open this door and come in here, on my orders."

There was another sound, closer. Were they opening the door? Rilian leaned forward as best he could, straining to hear further, his heart racing in the hope that there would be something. Then there was a faint voice…

"…orders,"

"I don't know."

"Might…ask…tomorrow."

"There's…but I thought…"

He could only catch some of the words, but they existed! He felt a strange momentary relief just at hearing the voices, strange and distant as they sounded to his mind, just knowing other people existed. It had only been nine days, but even nine days here made him wonder…if maybe he made up all the gnomes in the first place, and that all except for Sara were figments of his tired, confused mind and didn't actually exist.

But those were voices!

"Well? Are you coming, or will I have to tell the Queen about your disobedience?" he said.

There was a moment of silence, then the voices lowered…now he could barely make out what they were saying. They were talking low but vigorously, their voices a dull murmur from behind the door. He had to strain to listen, and even then it was too…too low…

The door opened a crack, and a voice floated into the room, although he couldn't see the gnome who was speaking. "Forgive me, your majesty," the gnome said, and Rilian felt almost giddy with relief at hearing that real voice speaking. "But the Queen's orders were that you remain here alone, and if we enter, it could hinder your recovery."

"Recovery? What nonsense is that?"

"From your enchantment." The gnome replied.

"What enchantment? What has she told you? Whatever it is, it's complete rubbish…I'm not enchanted right now, I don't need to recover from anything, I just need you to come here…"

"She told us you would say that," the gnome whispered. "And that we shouldn't listen, for it is only part of your sickness…it makes you forget that anything is wrong during this time and if we come in and release you, you'll try and kill us."

"Yes," agreed the second gnome, who had a much lower voice than the first. Rilian was under the impression that it must be a larger gnome, maybe one of those who had the trunks that brushed the floor. "That's what she said. You said that, too, and since you both did, we must obey."

"We don't want anything to go wrong." The first said in what Rilian figured was trying to be a reassuring tone. "So we won't bother you and risk it all going wrong, your majesty."

"Nothing's wrong," Rilian struggled to keep his voice calm. "Nothing at all, here, I can explain it all to you if you come here and help me. I'm sure I can help you with whatever you need help with."

"Can't do that," said the second one. "Can't. Sorry. Your orders. Her orders."

"But mightn't we…" for a moment the first sounded almost as if he was talking Rilian's plea seriously. "I mean, we are supposed to obey his orders…"

"But not during this time."

"Right."

"Sorry." The second's voice was low and gruffer now. "We'll be back later." And then the door closed again, the latch clicking firmly and the voices being silenced again.

They believed her. They believed what the witch said, and what she made him say, and he couldn't convince them otherwise. They believed her lies, and his lies, and turned away from anything else that existed. Their blind loyalty to the witch was…unflagging…even in times like these…

Would they ever believe him?

He strained to listen, but the voices had gone, as if they had never existed in the first place. He was alone again, nothing but the crackling of the fire and pop of a log to break the silence. The gnomes were gone. No one else was here, nothing but the scent of rosemary and burning logs and some other sweetness that had something to do with the enchantment that shimmered through this entire room even during this hour.

The gnomes wouldn't believe what he said during this hour. They held faith to the witch's words. It was like her words were the only words anyone believed.

"They're not," Rilian said out loud, closing his eyes. "They're not the only words. They're only one opinion in thousands, and in Narnia no one would ever listen. They would listen to me. They wouldn't believe a witch over what I said. But this isn't home, things are different here."

A log popped again, sending sparks into the air.

"But this isn't home," Rilian said again. "This…isn't…home."

He was met with only silence.

One month, seven days. But still, it wasn't like he was not a resourceful person. There were just limited resources to work with, and at one month and seven days (eight days? No, it was definitely seven) even the little resources were starting to look like nothing. He had tried to remember one day to leave the sword closer, but that didn't work. He couldn't think a thing for himself during the rest of the day, no matter how strong an effort he made. It wouldn't work. He spent the best part of the month trying to make it work, but it all failed. Everything was always the same when he awoke, even the smell of rosemary and the fire burning. What did that leave? He couldn't do anything beforehand. It was all reduced to this, what he could do now. Time was of the essence. It was the most important factor here…do what he could with what was given.

There was nothing given…

No, there had to be. He took so much time trying to set things up beforehand, and failing, that he most likely overlooked something during this time in an effort to try and think of what he could do any other time. That was why he was still here, after a month and seven days. Yes…yes, that was absolutely it, no doubt, no question. He spent all this time analyzing what happened and what went wrong when he wasn't in control of his actions. That did nothing, only led to frustration and failure. Well, he'd have to stop that. He'd have to take more time now figuring out how he could affect things here, and now, before he was lost to the spells once again. Had to figure it out. There were things, things, he had been overlooking…

Two months, fifteen days. Nothing in this room, absolutely nothing. The fire was too far away, the sword was far away, the guards outside the doors…if there even were guards outside the doors, waiting…he thought they were waiting, but he wasn't so sure. He remembered guards there on the eleventh day. No! No, the ninth day! They were there, and they spoke to him, and he remembered their voices. Did they come in the room? He couldn't remember. But they spoke, they said they couldn't do anything. So it was useless trying to influence the guards here, if there even were guards here. He didn't hear anything now, there weren't voices anymore. Just the fire. Even his own voice didn't sound real, sounded strange and unfamiliar in the dead silence. They'd think he was mad if they knew back at home, if they heard him talking like this, talking to himself…the healers would shake their heads, say there was nothing they could do, then walk away and leave the poor insane prince for his father to deal with. But there was no sense thinking of this, it didn't help, it didn't help looking around the room and finding nothing at two months and fifteen days…

Three months, twenty-one days, there was nothing in this room, nothing, nothing, only a room and only a fireplace and only a bed and this cursed chair, it was too hard, couldn't be broken. There were guards. There had to be guards, there was always the chance that he might break free from this! The guards had to be there! Outside the door. There were three of them. No, two! There wouldn't be a need for three guards. There had to be two, and sooner or later they would come in here and he could talk to them again and convince them to let him go. There had to be guards, after all, the witch accounted for everything and she had guards everywhere, and he remembered guards at each of the entrances in the rest of the castle, and how they were always there, so they had to be here, too. Logically. And logically they'd come here sooner or later. Maybe there'd be a new guard. That would work. He could speak with a new guard and convince them to let him go. The new guards at home were always easier to convince to do things. He did that, once, when he was eleven…at least, he remembered doing it, convincing this one guard to let him stay out all night…in the garden…at Cair Paravel. There was a garden there. A large garden, and in one of the gardens there were lime trees, because no one expected there to be lime trees there. But the guard! There'd be a new guard posted. She couldn't keep the old ones there forever. And…and there…there would be…

Five months, twelve days. Maybe the guards were all gone. Maybe there just weren't any guards, and there hadn't been any at first, he had just imagined the ones that spoke to him. Maybe that was just a memory of home. Home, however far away that was. But he was going to find his way back. There wasn't a question of that. And maybe…maybe they would find him! Yes, that was a possibility! His father would have sent out search parties right away. All of Narnia would be involved! They would sweep the country, and go into Archenland, and maybe even into Calormen. Either way, everyone would know about it and everyone would be involved. It was a vast land area, but there would be enough people involved where they would come. Sooner or later, they would come. Would they find their way down here? Yes, yes they would. It was difficult…he vaguely remembered coming here for the first time, even though he was still under her power at that time…but there were many entrances from the ruins of Harfang that led to this place. All tunnels, she said, led to Underland. It would be hard for them, but one of them would fall through a tunnel and find their way down here. It was possible. It was completely, entirely possible…

Six months, thirteen days, and it was taking them an awful long time. It was hard to find. They could have gotten lost. Maybe they hadn't thought to come to Harfang. But they would, eventually, because it was part of the search. Maybe they were lost in the tunnels. All tunnels led to Underland but maybe not all were easy to navigate. They could have been lost or died in the tunnels. Or there was that cavern she had mentioned once that put people to sleep when they wandered into it. But Narnians were smart. They'd find a way where no one else could. His father would send enough people where one of them was bound to find their way here. It was just taking awhile. A long while. But it wouldn't take forever. They'd find him, and he would go home. He would find a way home. They'd come, they'd come…

Eight months, thirty days, no one was here, no one has been here for eight months and thirteen…thirty! Thirty days! Or thirteen. Thirty. Thirteen. They sounded similar enough where it could have been thirty or it could have been thirteen but it was still eight months, right? Still eight? Yes? No? No one was here to answer it, to confirm that, there was still no one here even after all this time. No gnomes. No guards, no Narnians, no rescuers that he too often imagined ordering the gnomes with a bold voice to stand aside, coming in this room, my prince, I have found you, we have been searching for months now for you, but I'm here now, quick, we have to go.

There's a witch here, you have to be careful.

That's fine. We'll be able to get past the witch. I didn't see anyone on the way in.

She can do things that I never thought she could do. I don't even know everything. We have to be careful.

We'll be careful.

Are you sure?

Yes. We have to get back home.

Home. He'd get home. With or without that rescuer, who wasn't…wasn't here. There was still no one here. Not even the witch. She seemed so adamant about this, why wouldn't she be here at least once? Maybe she didn't care. Maybe that was a lie too. Maybe she wanted all along to take over Narnia and even back then he hadn't seen it, what if they were right, what if his people were right…but none of them were here to confirm it, to remind him of anything. They couldn't say whether or not he had made the whole thing up, years ago, even though he insisted…believed…he was never very good at making things up…

Eight months thirteen days. Thirty. It was…had to be thirty…but there was no one here to say anything else.

"No, I really must get to western precinct today," Sara said, waving the pencil in the general direction of the precinct. "I have to check on Thanagel. It's his first day alone there, and he is with Maram and Fol, and I don't know how well they're going to get along."

"Is there any reason why they wouldn't?" Rilian asked, standing next to her on the balcony.

"Not Maram and Fol, they've always been fine. They are easy to control. Just three drops of solution each day and it keeps them placid, despite the madness. Thanagel, nothing ever works. Nothing I've created can keep him calm for longer than a half hour. He loses it after that."

"That's why you've always kept him in the dungeon."

"Precisely. I only decided to put him in western precinct because it's easier…you know, keep them all in the same area. What if I must entertain someone in this castle? It wouldn't do to hear Thanagel and all his ravings during dinner, would it?"

"No, I suppose not."

She tapped the pencil on the balcony. There were never any dinner guests, but that was besides the point. Thanagel was getting on her nerves each day now, and she couldn't keep him in this castle anymore. He had broken out of the cell three times and went wandering through the castle, banging on doors, knocking things over, pulling tapestries off the wall and throwing food out the window at passersby and screaming about how the sun was here, the sun was there, the stars would shine and he couldn't see anything real anymore for fear of the sun. She had to put him somewhere else, and there was a small place in western precinct where she kept the troubled gnomes, the ones who fell into madness over the years. The others could be controlled…she had developed a potion that would calm them down. It never worked on Thanagel, no matter how many times she tried. Maybe seeing the surface was too much for even her potion to change.

"Danger to them, too."

"What?" she turned around to look at him.

"Danger to the people who wander down there, isn't it? I mean, I think so, I'd figure…"

"No, you're right."

"I am?"

"Yes! Yes, of course you are. I'm not the only one who is allowed to be right here, my dear."

"You just are more often than I."

She chuckled. "I've had more experience here, that's all. Soon you'll have that experience as well, and soon…soon we'll have no more need for this Underland. It will be so much easier once Narnia is ours."

"I believe you." He put his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. She leaned back and smiled, still feeling how comfortable it was to be like this with him. "But I hope there won't be any problems with Thanagel."

"I'll have it under control, don't worry. I've handled Thanagel for enough time now where I know how to keep him quiet. And it's only one small part of western precinct where it really won't affect the others that much, and…"

She was interrupted by a loud, ringing bell that echoed through the castle. Neither of them moved, but she could feel a sudden change in his posture, a tension that wasn't there before. Five minutes to seven, curse it. She had lost track of time again. And there…she turned her head to see the two guards waiting, spears at attention, to guide Rilian to his apartments for this hour. Damn it. She should have checked her watch before coming up here.

"Your majesty?" a guard said.

"Yes, I know," she replied impatiently. "I'm sorry," she said to Rilian, pressing a light kiss to his lips. "You know that sooner or later there won't be a need for this anymore."

"I know. I trust you, and you'll someday find a way to end this sooner, right?"

"My workers are digging every day. It won't take long before we reach the surface." She neglected to tell him that another part of the tunnel collapsed due to a fault line that ran through the rock and left weaknesses that caused a small quake and collapse. She had to work around the fault, and she didn't know enough about rock in order to figure out how to do this. She took that particular group of gnomes and relinquished the enchantment slightly…just enough to allow them access to all their knowledge about rock…and then set them to work. But it was even harder to control them and took constant vigilance, and it was taxing. She spent most of the day sleeping now to try and make up for it.

They followed the guards down into the prince's apartments and finally into his room. The two gnomes entered first, holding the door open for them. One gnome stood by the chair, the other by the table, indicating for Rilian to take his sword off. He did so, laying it on the table and waiting for Sara's nod of approval. For a moment his hand rested on the sword, longer than usual, and a vaguely troubled expression crossed his face.

"Are you sure I won't…shouldn't…keep this with me?"

"Why would you think that?" she answered, a little sharper than usual. "You don't need it. It would only cause more harm if you kept it with you!" No. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He wouldn't normally ask a question like that, but it was only minutes away from seven. She had to give him the benefit of a doubt for that. "And you know I am ever concerned for your safety," she finished, her voice softer and more calm.

"Yes, you are," he nodded.

"There. Now, I have to go to western precinct, but I will be back later." She gave a small bow. "It won't take long, this business. I only have to get Thanagel settled. I will see you shortly."

"Of course." One of the gnomes took Rilian's wrist. "Wait."

"What?" the gnome asked.

"No, no…my lady, can you…wait?"

Sara had her hand on the doorknob, but hesitated. "What is it? I have to leave now. You know I am very busy and have a lot to do."

"I know, but…but you always leave," He rested a hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps it would be easier, this time, if you stayed with me. There are times when I am…afraid to be alone. You say I don't remember who I am, and don't even remember what happens during this time. I don't…I can't recall anything. But maybe if you stayed, I'd be able to remember…"

"No," she said, all too forcefully that even he looked surprised. "No, I've told you before, I can't stay with you. I'm far too busy. There are too many things I have to attend to. I hate repeating myself."

"But, it is only an hour…"

"In which I have a lot to do on my own. You know I can't stay. I've told you this before." She removed his hand from her shoulder. "You know this. Now, I will return in an hour."

"But, my lady…"

"No more protests," she said, and he automatically fell silent. "Don't ask me this anymore. I've told you once, and you know better than to question me when I have already told you something!" she snapped, pulling the pocketwatch out of her belt and staring at it. There were only two minutes left. She had to leave within the course of those minutes and find a place to go, something to keep her busy…today she would check the western precinct and how Thanagel was managing. It took some time to get to the western district, but she could make it if she left now.

"My lady, it was only a question. I didn't mean anything offensive to you,"

"Either way, do not mention it again." She closed the pocketwatch with a sharp snap. "And those are my orders,"

"Orders…orders, my lady, you never give orders to me. I have done something wrong, I have made you unhappy, please tell me what I did so that I may make amends…"

"Nothing! Nothing, now please, it is almost seven, I must go. But you must never, ever ask me that again. Is that understood?"

There was a pause, and then a sigh. "Yes, my queen. Understood."

"Good." She strode out the door, taking the time only to nod at the guards. "I will be back later. If I am not back by eight, as usual, you have your orders, continue as planned."

The bell chimed seven, and she continued down the hall and the stairs. She had ordered a chariot earlier to come and bring her to western precinct, and they would be there by now.

Don't ask me this ever again, she thought furiously, not quite knowing why the question had made her so angry. She shouldn't have been. It was nearly seven, he wasn't in his right mind. He probably said things during those few minutes before the hour chimed that he wouldn't say any other time. That was the reason for it, she reasoned. He should know better than to ask. She never stayed with him during that time, and she told him this enough times when he should know! Damn him for asking. No…damn him for asking like that. She had to ensure he never did it again.

If he did…

She made an effort to stay away. If he asked again, there was always the chance…the chance that she would stay, and she could never do that.

There was no need for her to do that. He didn't need her during that time…anything but, she reasoned. He wouldn't want to see her. He would probably do things during that…that time of madness…that he wouldn't do any other time. Words that normally he would never even dream of saying. She didn't know, and she didn't care to know.

"Where is my chariot?" she demanded as the two guards opened the door, and the courtyard was revealed to be blank. "I ordered this only a few hours ago."

"They won't bring the chariot here today, your majesty. They're superstitious."

"Of what?"

"It's been seven months since you first…brought the prince there," the gnome said, pointing to the upper reaches of the castle. "They're superstitious of coming so close. They say that they hear strange things there during this time, and…you know. Bad things come in sevens."

"I don't have time for your superstitions! What idiocy is this that you still follow them? From now on, you will not hold to any of these foolish superstitions you always have. That is an order," she finished, touching the stones around her neck with two fingers.

"Yes, your majesty," the guard said, and at the same time she heard the whisperings of all the voices over Underland repeating the same thing.

"Now, bring the chariot around and take me to western precinct. Bad things come in sevens, what sort of nonsense is that. Even in Mayharran we didn't have superstitions like that." She finished as she waited for them. They did, and she stepped on it and ordered them to go.

It took her several moments after they left the courtyard for her to realize that she couldn't remember what sort of superstitions they did have in Mayharran.

Eight months and fifteen days, Sara thought angrily, throwing the plans aside. It had been eight months and fifteen days since she had completed her project and had Rilian by her side. But the rest of the plans…each time, they were failing! This was her fourth attempt to tunnel to the surface, and now this one had collapsed as well. Was it that difficult of a thing to do? Surely there weren't this many ways that a tunnel could be made! But clearly there were this many, and probably more, that a tunnel could collapse.

Pockets of magma settled over the centuries that when touched would explode. Unstable layers of sediment. Rocks higher up that couldn't be navigated. How many more things would she have to throw aside before she could finally have a stable tunnel? The whole thing had seemed so easy when she thought it up, but now it was becoming increasingly frustrating. She was momentarily tempted to take them the way she came down for the first time, but that would involve traveling through the cavern of the sleepers and she intended never to return there.

Damn this. Another plan into the fire.

She pulled out a new piece of parchment and two pencils…but then realized that she had left the maps elsewhere. She had made numerous copies of each of her plans, as well as the maps of the Underland and all the failed attempts. Now she needed those plans so she could see what to avoid in developing her next plan, but the old plans weren't here.

She stood up, pushing aside a pile of scrolls that she brought here from Harfang…nothing beneath them. Nothing on the shelves. She gave a frustrated sigh, pulling on a curl of hair in annoyance. Had she given them to someone? Or left them in another precinct she had visited? No…somewhere else in the castle. They had to be somewhere else. Wait…here was one. She took one off the shelf and glanced at it…this was the third plan, that one was discontinued because of the magma pocket. The rest…she had to have left them in some other part of the castle. Well, she'd have to go find them now before she could start on the rest.

She took the blank scroll and the failed plan and left the room, walking down the halls at the same time as reading the plan. Thankfully this was the latest, and several of the earlier failures were factored in. There was the fault from the first time…there was the magma pocket, of course…what was this? Oh, right, this was a layer of rock too solid to dig through. There was a plan to dig around it, had they found that yet? No, they were still working on that. Maybe she could figure that out now.

There was a faint noise in the corridor. "Hmm?" she said, still not looking up from the sheet. "What is it?"

No response. She shrugged and kept walking. If they turned right around the stone, would that work? From the corner of her vision she saw a door, and it looked somewhat familiar…maybe she had kept the plans there. That was entirely a possibility. Still reading, she laid one hand on the doorknob.

"Eight months! Eight months and fifteen days, I know that, it's fifteen. Fifteen. Fifteen. How much longer? How many more months, more days? Another eight? More than that? Maybe years. Maybe it'll be years, years before anyone…anyone finds me here…damn you, damn you, Sara!"

She drew her hand away from the doorknob and pulled it close to her. What? How had she come this way? She had not intended to! Frantically she pulled her pocketwatch out and flipped it open. It wasn't yet eight…it was half after seven, nothing more! She had come this way by mistake, so distracted by reading that she hadn't even paid attention to where she was walking.

She stepped away from the door, a sudden strange feeling of panic overtaking her. What was she so afraid of? She didn't know, she had never known, yet every day she stayed away.

His voice was harsh and unnatural and she would hardly have recognized it as his own. "For taking me down into this cavern, this, this, this dead place, this underworld…this isn't my home. This isn't my home, Sara! It will never be, I don't care how long you leave me here, I will never believe you…"

She had to go find the rest of the plans now, find the maps. There were plans to find, and she had to keep herself busy with them. Too many plans. Why was she still here? She had work to do, lots of work…

"I hope that...what is it? What is that? No, I disagree," it sounded for a moment like he was talking to someone else. "No! No! You don't understand either! But I will teach you, then, too, and we'll escape in the end. No, stay there, stay near the fire...what is that? No." then clarity again, "…don't know why I even bother saying anything, you can't hear me anyway…"

She had no intention of staying here. That was it, she was leaving. Leaving right now. She adjusted the plans in her hands and quickly turned, walking down the hall as far away as possible, trying to stop her racing heart by focusing on the plans. But it was nearly impossible to focus now. She had spent eight months and fifteen days away, finding every excuse possible. She didn't want to hear this. It wasn't her place to stay, it was her duty to keep herself occupied, for there was not a reason why she should stay and hear…hear this…

There was no reason why she should hear his voice cursing her name, hear how strange he spoke like this and how unlike him it was…and at the same time, how curiously…and ridiculously…pure his voice sounded, however harsh, how it had such a depth and timbre she wasn't used to hearing any other time. It was wrong to stay, wrong to listen, wrong to wonder what it would be like to stand next to him during that time, so different from any other time, different from every other hour in the day…

No reason to stay. No reason to come back, either. It was an accident, and she would think better of it next time.

She found the map room and spread the plans down on the desk, immediately finding all the failed ones and setting them up in a circle around the latest blank sheet. She put the pencils on the map and took a protractor from the nearest shelf, and then settled down in front of the blank parchment to figure out what the best way around that solid stone would be.

Sara focused entirely on the map, locking the door and refusing anyone entrance as she started on her newest idea. She stayed there all night, until the wicks burned themselves out and she didn't feel like lighting them again. Then she left, locking the door again to keep anyone from getting to the scrolls, and returned to her own apartments on the other side of the castle. She pulled the curtains shut, even though there was no reason…it was high up in the castle, and there was no light underground to wake her in the morning, only the artificial light that she set up through all Underland. And that light was never as bright as she wanted it, for no matter how hard she tried, it was impossible to recreate the sun.

It was only a small encounter, Sara thought as she tied the curtains shut. It was a moment in passing. She had just taken the wrong way and been too distracted to notice where she was going. That was all, and she'd know better not to make that mistake again. It shouldn't matter, for it was only a moment, and she didn't stay long enough to hear anything more or involve herself further. That hour was not hers. It didn't belong to her, it never would, and furthermore, she never wanted it to.

It took her longer than usual to fall asleep that night, and her dreams were increasingly unsettling. She kept waking up in the night, then going to back to sleep, unable to get a grip on whatever restlessness was overtaking her. She turned on the light and tried to read, then made some tea, and finally she fell into a real sleep sometime after four in the morning.

She awoke late the next morning, but couldn't remember what any of her dreams had been, or what had made them so disturbing. Those details were lost to the night, and if she forgot them, all the better. There were some dreams, even in this kingdom of Sayn Taera, that were best left for the darkness.

There was no reason to go back again the next day, only the fact that she had to tell one of the guards something she had forgotten the previous day. That was the only reason, really, and it was a lot that she had to tell this guard, so she had to stay longer than she anticipated. There was no reason the day after that, or for the rest of the week, but she managed to find reasons, find excuses, find things to do that would take her past there without even fully realizing that she was.

Perhaps it was some strange responsibility she felt, standing there, often talking to her guards or asking them for something or pointing out something on the plans, when she heard his cries, his cursing. He never sounded like that any other time, and years ago when she knew him, he never spoke like this no matter how angry he was. The curses, surely, he had to have picked up from her…they never spoke that way back in Narnia, but in Mayharran it was quite common. But it felt so strange, to hear him talking that way…too creative, he was, shouting…screaming…all the terrible things he wanted to see happen to her, and then the desperation…the praying that someone would find their way down here and let him go home where he was sure they were still waiting for him.

They don't wait, Sara wanted to say. You only think they do, but in the end, everyone forgets. But she couldn't tell him that, it wasn't her place, it wasn't her business. This hour belonged to him and she refused to trespass on that, and didn't want to hear the screams, the cries…

There was no reason to keep returning and standing outside the door and listening. Only the fact that despite the cursing, his voice sounded more like his than it ever did before, that it was clear and true and even she could notice that. Or perhaps it was the emotion…he never did that any other time, never sounded that angry, or that intense…some sort of strange intensity that she kept returning to listen to, despite the fact that she hated it. Perhaps it was that emotion, that strange depth which she never saw any other time of the day, no matter how hard she tried. It was this time, this emotion, that she never shared with him, and felt a sudden and strange desire to do so…

But those weren't good reasons. There weren't any good reasons.

But still, she returned.

Ten months and…and…he forgot how many days. He was supposed to remember, and had been keeping count, then one day he forgot to count and now…now all he knew was ten months, and he could only guess as to how long it was from now on. He was sure of the ten months, but that was all he was sure of right now. That and the fact that no one was coming. The witch had made sure that no one would be able to get here…she had taken a thousand precautions against it and anything else. He had checked, and rechecked, until he gave up checking. She was too thorough. She knew too much and knew how exactly to counter everything he could possibly think of…

Damn witch. He never dreamed of calling anyone a witch, but it was the only word appropriate enough. And he had heard her use the word "damn" enough to know that it must mean something horrible. They never said that in Narnia, but if she said it, maybe it was some sort of horrid Mayharran curse, worse than anything one could say back home. And she deserved it.

Ten months and it felt like he had always been here, that nothing else existed outside this room and this hour. No one ever came here…nothing but his own voice that echoed through the room as he shouted, cursed, screamed…did anything to affirm the fact that he did in fact exist and hadn't been lost to madness, or lost to some distant world and forgotten. Even Sara didn't come, and he had thought she would…but no. Whatever he had remembered with her, any friendship that had once existed between them, that was gone now. He didn't care about that anymore, it was meaningless, far in a past that he wasn't even sure existed. Maybe all his memories were created. Everything he recalled from home, from the trees reaching towards the sky and the way the stars shone in pools of water when the sky was clear…maybe those were all imagined. There were people at home who wrote stories and could create entire worlds from their imagination and put it on a page…maybe he was one of those people. Maybe he dreamed a beautiful world where one could look into pools and see stars, dip their hands in the cool water and feel for a brief moment like they were holding the stars.

Rilian coughed, his voice hoarse from shouting. That was something, too…at least he could still feel that, the pain in his throat and at his wrists, though granted it wasn't much. He figured it had been a half hour now, and he still had some time left…though to do what, he didn't know. He felt too tired to say anything more. Maybe he could remember…this time…there had been one day when he was standing outside in the gardens, feeding the birds…the birds, not the Talking Birds, because Birds would never allow themselves the indignity of eating seeds out of someone's hands. When Birds visited Cair Paravel (he said that name three times out loud for good measure), they were always given their own bowl of seeds. It was polite.

"It was polite," he said to no one. "It would be demeaning to the Birds to treat them like common animals. They visited my mother all the time, and she loved it when they came." Again, no one answered him. If they knew at home he was talking to himself like this, surely they'd think him mad…if there was a home, if there were people at home who still remembered who he was.

Then there was a sound by the door.

Rilian's head came up. "Hello? Who's there?" Maybe it was a guard! A person, a real person, come to open the door and at least speak, if nothing else. Or maybe someone had come at last!

There was another noise, a shuffle perhaps, a sound of a handle being turned. Or if not turned, at least touched. Someone was there! He couldn't possibly imagine something like that!

"Who is it? Please, just answer me. The door should be unlocked, or you can ask the guards to unlock it. They'll do it, I'm sure, if you introduce yourself well enough." Someone was here. Someone from Narnia did exist and they had come all the way down here searching, and now they had finally found him!

There was no sound for a moment, then a small noise, then the handle stopped being turned.

"No! Wait! I'm sure the guards will let you in! Please, just answer me! You don't have to do anything else, just answer me…" Don't go away. Please. Don't leave, just talk to me, just say something…let me know that…that I'm not alone in this dark world…

"I can help you, if that's what you need…if you can't find your way out of this world, I can find you maps…I know where the map rooms are, I think, and if you'll just come in here and let me out I can help you. Or if you need anything else. I can do a lot of things, you know, and I've seen a lot…I'm going to be king of Narnia someday, so…so there's a lot I can do, just please, please don't go away." He was leaning forward now, his hands tight on the armrests and wrists straining against the bonds. "Please don't leave. Just say something, I don't care what, even if it's just your name…I'm sure you have a name, everyone does…just…" There was no movement now, just silence. "Please don't leave me," his voice had dropped down to a whisper, and then the whisper turned into absolute silence.

There was no one there.

Maybe there hadn't been anyone at all. Maybe he imagined all those sounds, so desperate to know that he existed and so did other people and he wasn't tied to a chair alone in a dead world where there was nothing left for him outside this room and the fireplace and the cursed smell of rosemary.

It was ten months, and there was never going to be anyone else. No daring rescues, no one ever going to speak to him again. No one even knew he was here, and they weren't going to come for him. Escape was hopeless, wishing was hopeless, everything he had insisted for the past ten months was all a flight of fancy that would dissolve into nothing and be gone as quickly as the sparks from the fire, lighting brilliant for a moment in the darkness and then going out again, meaningless and fleeting.

There would never be anyone here.

For the first time in ten moths, he realized how hopeless this all was. There would never be an escape. He would be here, forever, with no company but his own madness and memories of a land he'd never see again.

And so he closed his eyes, for a moment, and then wept…more than he ever had before, deep, wracking sobs that shook his entire body. And he couldn't even move, couldn't even lift a hand to wipe the blinding tears from his eyes. This prison was all that would ever exist. And sooner or later Narnia would forget him, and his father would choose another person to become king, and Sal…she'd marry someone else, and go off to live in Archenland or, Lion forbid, Calormen…Mien and Toire would leave the castle and do some other sort of duty…Drinian, he was old, and he would someday die and Rilian wouldn't be there to see his friend one last time, or his father, or anyone. He'd only stay here until maybe he too died, or the witch was successful in all her terrible plans. Until the first thing he saw in the overworld would be the witch, victorious, forcing his father to bow before her, and then watch as she killed him.

If there even was a Narnia.

No! No, in Aslan's name, there was a Narnia. And this was no way for a prince of Narnia to behave, no matter how desperate the situation might seem. He forced himself to stop, taking several deep breaths to stop the heavy sobs. He had to stay in control and remember. That was the most important thing…remembering. He couldn't let himself forget anything, and couldn't let himself despair like this anymore. There was hope, wasn't there? There had to be. There was always hope. During the hundred years of winter, the people managed to stay strong. Yes, they did despair…but they also believed, unwaveringly, in the prophecy, and that sooner or later it would come true and save them from this torment. There was no prophecy here, but…but it wouldn't be like this forever. It couldn't. Aslan would help him eventually…Aslan helped all his children, and Rilian was a child of Narnia, even if he couldn't remember Narnia.

No. He had to remember. Even if Narnia didn't exist anymore and was just a dream, he had to honor that dream, that vanished world, that memory. It wouldn't do justice to any of those people to forget altogether, to despair, to think he'd never go back. He would…it would just take time. They wouldn't forget him. They wouldn't forget…never…

There was a Narnia. He had to stop this foolishness now. And he did exist.

"I am Prince Rilian," he said out loud, his voice harsh and mouth dry. "Son of Caspian, tenth of that name, whom some call Caspian the Seafarer, king of Narnia. I live in Cair Paravel, the capital of Narnia, and it overlooks the sea…when you stand there and watch the sunset, you can see the entire ocean turn red. My mother was the daughter of a star brought from the end of the world back home, and she knew more than she let on." He took a deep, steadying breath and forced himself to stare at the fire, still flickering in the fireplace "I am Prince Rilian, son of Caspian, king of Narnia, and my mother once taught me the names of the stars…she would take me outside long after everyone had gone to sleep, and she would make me promise not to tell anyone because it was far after my bedtime and my father would be quite angry if he found out I was out that late. We would sit out in the garden…in the clearing, between the lime trees, and sometimes we would lie on the ground and I could feel the grass on my face, and no one else was around…only my mother and I…and we would look at the sky and she would teach me the names of the stars. It was our own secret, and I never told anyone…not even Drinian, not even my father. And…the names. I have to remember them. She taught me all of them and we'd recite them together, or sing, even though I can't sing. They were…were…" he paused. "Dalthrey, the morning star. Eldrin, the first star to shine when the sun went down. Firtan. Morathe. Ytria. Lamarra. Igrets." He remembered all the names. "Diar. Plethen. Amirali…"

He could name all the stars…

This was wrong, all wrong. She should have never come back after that first day.

Sara sat on the ground now, outside the door, her back pressed against the wall. Her eyes were tightly shut but she could still hear.

This was different from before. She could tolerate the cursing and swearing…that she was used to, and that she would expect, though it was still strange to hear her name being spoken so viciously. But somehow she could handle that, though she didn't know why. Anger was a part of life, maybe that was it. She didn't know. She didn't feel like figuring it out. But this…

Not this. He never cried, not her Rilian, not like that. Tears of grief, maybe…she had seen that before…or of joy…but never this, not the desperate sobbing of someone who despaired of never again truly living, of ever being free, of ever having someone there to give him something real to believe in when he was left with only the madness of his mind and his voice for company. And then speaking like that, over and over again, reciting his name, the stars…trying to remember when he hadn't seen it in months.

She pressed her hands to her ears childishly and closed her eyes tightly as the minutes wore on.

Eventually his cries ceased, but they rang on still in her mind no matter how hard she tried to erase them.

And thus a year passed.