I don't own Narnia or the Pevensies. I just wake up in the morning and immediately write over a thousand words about them.


A few of the centaurs who still lounged around the house straightened when she came out, but she moved by them without pause until she was a ways into the forest. They did not follow her. Crashing through bushes and ferns, she walked in a resolutely straight line until she happened to come upon a small stream, at which time she threw herself down on its banks and dug her fingers into the soft earth at its side. Anger and frustration broke over her in waves, clouding her vision.

"They don't understand," she murmured thickly.

The stream gurgled comfortingly in front of her, so she trailed a hand in, feeling small fish dart through her fingers. The rest of the forest was silent, though, and those of the village were rather far away though not indiscernible. She sighed. She knew later she would have to face her siblings, who would be upset with her for her rudeness. For the moment she decided not to think about it.

That moment was rather short-lived, though, when there came the sound of steel-tipped boot steps through the wood behind her. She refused to look up at whoever it was but instead yanked a bit of grass from the ground and began twisting it in her fingers. Someone sat beside her with a faint clink of chain mail.

"Lucy," Edmund's voice said quietly. "Are you all right?"

"No," she snapped. She would not look at him.

"Well, then, what's wrong?"

"You know perfectly well what's wrong."

"Lucy, we all wanted to get up and leave. But it wasn't going to help the dryads or get us any information. These people are ignorant, but as far as we know they're not cruel. Running out didn't help."

"Well that's the difference between you and me, then, isn't it?" Lucy said with a touch of shrillness. She was feeling irrationally angry with her brother. "You all can be mature and do the right thing all the time, and I can't. You all can all fight, but I'm still to young to even have a real sword. Why didn't you just leave me back at the river? It would have done just as much good."

"Lucy!" said Edmund reprovingly. "What's the matter with you?"

"Why can't I ever do anything on my own? Why do you and Susan and Peter always have to be looking out for me? I'm not helpless, Ed, I'm almost thirteen! You were younger when you came here and you went to war!"

Edmund bit his lip.

"That was different," he said. "There was a real war, then, not just a rumored one. Peter needed me. Aslan needed me."

Lucy opened her mouth and out it spilled without thinking.

"They needed a traitor?"

Her heart slammed painfully in her ribs. She couldn't believe herself. Edmund met her gaze, a look of deep hurt pooling in his dark eyes, then silently stood and walked back the way he had come, never looking back.

"Ed!" she called after him. "Ed, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" But it was too late. He was gone.

Lucy hugged her knees and began to cry. She was angry at the ignorant people for killing her country, and she was angry at the sirens for stealing her gift, but mostly she was angry with herself for being so hopelessly immature. Sitting there on the ground, she rocked back and forth miserably, wishing Edmund would come back and tell her that it would all be okay, that he understood why she was so angry, that he forgave her for being such an insensitive brat. She looked up at the sound of a footstep.

It wasn't Edmund. It was a short, powerfully built man with a long, curved sword in his hand, and he looked far from friendly.

"What's wrong, little girl?" he asked menacingly.

"Edmund?" Lucy called nervously, scooting backwards, away from the strange man.

"Shh, you don't want to be bringing all the villagers running, now, do you?" He took a step towards her, raising his sword a little bit. "I reckon you're one of the village lasses, though I've never seen one dressed in armor. But I bet they'd pay a fair price for your safe return, wouldn't you say?"

"Edmund!" Lucy screamed. She scrambled to her feet, but the man lunged for her and caught her leg, sending her spinning back to the forest floor. She cried out as he pinned her hands to the ground above her head with one hand, holding his blade to her neck with the other.

"Don't be making any more noise, love," he leered. "Now get up."

He yanked her to her feet, pressing his sword into her back and forcing her wrists behind her back. Frightened tears replaced guilty ones. The man began to prod her in a direction away from the village, ignoring her scared whimpers. Then there was a crack of a twig snapping somewhere nearby, and Lucy yelled as loudly as she could,

"Help!"

"Lu!" Edmund called back. A second later he burst through the trees, sword in hand, expression almost as terrified as hers. The man cursed loudly and dealt her a blow with the flat of his blade. She cried out in pain and dropped to the ground, face stinging, throwing out a leg in an attempt to trip her captor as he rushed towards her brother with his own sword raised.

Clang! The blades met and the two began to duel, skipping back and forth and bringing their weapons together in a great clash. Lucy darted forward and threw herself against the man's leg, but he did not topple over as she expected. He kicked her away and resumed the fight. Edmund was a skilled swordsman, but he was only a boy, and Lucy could see that he could not put as much power into his blows as his opponent. Gasping for breath on the floor, Lucy wished desperately for help. Surely the centaurs had heard her cries!

Edmund was tiring, but still battling desperately. He glanced backwards into the forest as if expecting someone else to come to his aid, but there was no reply. Again, Lucy flung herself at his foe but again he simply shook her off with a hefty blow to her stomach. She curled up in pain and could only watch helplessly as the man one-handedly brought his sword down onto her brother's, then used his other hand to bodily shove him to the ground. Edmund cried out and readied for the final blow, his foe standing above him with weapon poised high.

A red-feathered arrow whistled out of the trees and found its mark in the man's unprotected shoulder. As he roared in pain, he dropped his sword and clutched at his wounded arm. Peter came tearing out of the forest seconds later, blue eyes blazing with an unfamiliar rage, and he was followed closely by Susan, who quickly pulled Lucy to her feet and began to drag her away.

"No, let me stay…" Lucy began to protest, but Susan ignored her.

"You don't want to see," she said firmly, pulling her sister along.

From behind them, growing fainter every second, Lucy could hear Peter's furious voice. Still weeping from fear and shame, she hurried forward and away, towards the village. Susan's grip was anything but gentle, as her title would suggest, but Lucy would not complain because she knew that the whole deal was her fault. She had almost gotten Edmund killed.

"I'm sorry," she muttered incoherently. Susan squeezed her hand as they stepped into the village clearing, where the centaurs were looking uncharacteristically nervous. They relaxed at the sight of the two Queens. Susan let go and turned to Lucy, bending slightly to look her in the eyes.

"Any injuries?" she asked. This time, her voice was more tender. Lucy shook her head and bit her tongue to try and keep her tears out. Her face stung something awful and her stomach, where the man had kicked her twice, was paining her immensely, but she wouldn't say so. Both were her own fault.

"No," she said hoarsely, swallowing hard. "I'm all right."

"Good girl," Susan said, and wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulder. "Now don't go running off again, you hear me?"

Lucy nodded wretchedly, shaking even as Susan pressed a concerned kiss to her forehead. A few minutes later, Edmund and Peter came back through the trees, the former looking rather pale and the latter still quaking with anger. The elder of the two walked straight to Lucy, knelt and looked into her eyes with a more intense look than she'd seen in a very long time.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," he said. And then he'd wrapped his arms around her in a close hug, which she returned gratefully. Over his shoulder she caught a glimpse of Edmund. He did not smile when he saw her looking. Instead, he turned away and walked steadily to the other end of the clearing, hand upon his sword hilt, never looking back.