Okay, here's the proper chapter at last! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed-I really apologise for the delay with this chapter and hopefully my update schedule will be back on track for weekly chapters.

Aslan's Daughter: Thank you for your reviews! I love getting feedback of all sorts, but what I especially like know is if my characterisation is consistent and if the plot is solid and free from any major holes or mistakes. :-)

NarniaGirl: Glad the water scenes got your attention! Sorry for the delay in updating this time and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. :-)

8th. of Greenroof, 1012-Third-day

"Queen Susan! Queen Susan!"

Susan put down her silver backed hairbrush with a stifled sigh and abandoned her attempts to tame her hair into some semblance of order as Jala—the Birch Dryad who she entrusted with most matters that did not require her direct intervention—burst through the doors to her chambers.

"What is it, Jala?" She examined her reflection in the looking glass critically before directing her haze towards Jala's reflected face. The Dryad looked even more tired than she did herself and Susan quite correctly surmised that her servant had gotten even less sleep than she had.

Jala paused in the doorway, surprise at her queen's disheveled appearance temporarily replacing her agitation. "Queen Susan, are you quite well?"

As a matter of fact, Susan did not feel well at all. Not that my health is currently relevant, but is it really that obvious? Looking back at her reflected face she was forced to admit she did look ill. Her eyes were accented by dark circles, her hair seemed hopelessly tangled, and her skin appeared nearly grey in the early dawn light. I must sleep.

"I am well, thank you." I don't have another choice. "What did you need me for?"

Before Jala could answer a flushed, and panting faun burst through the door—Susan recognised him as one of the guards assigned to Duke Tirnan for the duration of his stay, and groaned inwardly.

"What is it, Tiberius?"

The faun froze in his tracks, dropped a quick bow, and shuffled his hoofs in desperate agitation. "The Duke, your grace, it's terrible! I fear there'll be murder done by the end of this!"

"Murder of who?" If it is likely to be Tarkaan Areesh, who am I to prevent it? She regretted the thought almost immediately and dismissed the rush of satisfaction she felt in imagining that particular circumstance as utterly unseemly and unbefitting her status as queen. It would not do for her guest to murder each other beneath her roof.

"I-I don't rightly know," stammered Tiberius. "But there was talk of throwing someone off the pier, and he's in a terrible fury—pacing his chambers and shouting at all his servants."

Why is he coming to me? It seems more a question of safety and diplomacy, which means Edmund ought to go and—Edmund, who is likely in Tashbaan by now. What am I supposed to do? She was rather proud, however, of how little of her inner turmoil was reflected in her expression. By Aslan's grace I can find the strength to go on.

"Jala, what was it you needed?" Gather information, then make a plan—one step at a time until it's over. She drew in a deep, steadying breath, gathered up her hairbrush, and resumed attacking the tangles in her hair.

"The library, your majesty—Sundance requests you attend him at once." Jala wrinkled her delicate nose in disgust. "He seems to be in quite a state, and refused to listen to reason when I told him you were likely to be otherwise engaged."

Sundance was a very elderly, incredibly bad-tempered badger, whose name could scarcely have been more ironic even if it had been bestowed on a Black Dwarf. He was also the court librarian, a good friend of Edmund's, and a source of endless annoyance for Susan. His demand for her presence was not entirely unexpected, considering he usually summoned Edmund to the library for various, unnecessary reasons multiple times a week. Edmund, at least in Susan's opinion, indulged the old badger's whims far too graciously—especially considering that the librarian ordinarily required nothing more urgently than for Edmund to fetch him a book from another room.

Take a breath, don't let your annoyance show—be a queen. "Very well. Jala, tell Sundance I will be with him presently. Tiberius, please convey this message to Duke Tirnan: Queen Susan requires his presence in the main library half an hour hence and it will be considered gravely offensive if he is not in good humour upon his arrival. Tell him I wish to speak to him concerning important matters." Which means I must think of something to discuss with him that will calm his temper—regardless of the cause—without giving him false hope as to the state of his suit.

Jala curtsied with the grace inherent to her people—a grace which Susan was stubbornly not envious of—and glided out of the room in a swirl of pale green silk. Tiberius bowed much less gracefully, nearly tripped over his own hooves as he shuffled backwards towards the door, and at last pulled the door shut behind him.

Susan dropped her aching head into her hands with a sigh of abject weariness. Am I never to get a moment's rest? But she had very little time to feel sorry for herself and found herself rather disgusted by her own weakness.

"You are a queen," she told herself sternly, raising her face from her hands and hastily gathering her hair up into a thick braid. "You might start acting like one—rather than moping about all the things you cannot have." Her reflection stared back with exhausted determination as she pinned back a lock of hair that had evaded her attempts to capture it in the braid and smoothed a wrinkle from the sleeve of her gown. Now at least I look the part. Her mask of control and grace was firmly back in place now, and only someone accustomed to her mannerisms and moods would have seen the weariness that hid behind her façade of strength.

The fragile mask lasted nearly a full minute, before the illusion—at least that of grace—shattered abruptly. She had managed to leave her room without mishap, despite her exhaustion, and was just entering the corridor which lead to the library when she collided abruptly with another figure hurrying in the opposite direction.

The phrase that sprang to her mind as she found herself tumbling clumsily to the floor was anything but queenly, and it was with some difficulty that she managed not to speak the words aloud. Peter would doubtless have found it incredibly amusing, but Susan doubted that her Galman suitor would share her brother's opinion.

She picked herself up with what little dignity she could muster, smoothed the fabric of her dress back into order, and forced a smile that was not in the least heartfelt as she faced the young man before her.

The Galman was tall, taller than Peter even, with broad shoulders, a disheveled mop of fair, sun streaked hair, and bright green eyes that regarded her with amusement. He seemed to be laughing at her clumsiness, though somehow the expression of amusement that tugged at the corners of his mouth managed to be charming, rather than degrading.

"Your majesty." He inclined his head in a slight bow, shifting the heavy book he carried from his right hand to his left as he took her hand and kissed it gallantly.

Susan felt her cheeks flush—with what she told herself sharply must have been embarrassment—and collected her manners sufficiently to curtsey in response. They had met once, barely spoken beyond the requirements of formality, and Lord Gale had so far seemed barely more than a non-entity at court—and of course I would have to go and destroy what little hope I have of avoiding at least one of my suitors by making a fool of myself.

"Lord Gale, I must beg your pardon, I was not attending to my path." He had yet to release her hand and was still regarding her with the type of bright-eyed curiosity that ordinarily made her brothers scowl and reach unconsciously for their weapons.

"The fault is mine, your grace," Gale responded calmly, leaning against the corridor wall with a nonchalance that seemed to border on boredom—though Susan did not miss the fact that he was completely blocking her path. Of course, she could turn and go back the way she had come, but there was no way to do so without seeming unforgivably rude. He held up the book he carried, showing her the heavily embossed cover. "I must admit that I was reading and also neglecting to notice where I was going—or whom I was in danger of knocking over. I find Narnian history quite fascinating."

Susan squinted at the book, straining her eyes to read the gold letters in the dim light of the corridor. The Life of Gale, King of Narnia.

"I'm named after him, King Gale I mean." Lord Gale seemed strangely unaware that he was continuing to block Susan's path and she felt herself becoming rather annoyed. The endless list of things which required her attention that day had not decreased simply because she had collided with a visitor.

"My mother was Narnian, you see," he continued, looking down at the book with a thoughtful expression. "A faun called Metelus gave me this book to read—he suggested I might like to know the story of the man I'm named after. I believe he was your brother King Edmund's tutor at one point?" The green eyes snapped up suddenly from the book and he frowned, brows furrowing in a sudden expression of consternation. "Forgive me, Queen Susan, I am being quite rude and preventing you from continuing your walk."

He bowed again, somewhat stiffly and turned to glance around the corridor. Susan could see his obvious confusion and refrained from sighing with difficultly—she had seen that expression countless times before when Edmund had become so engrossed in reading while walking that he had gotten lost.

Just go, he's apologised for keeping you—he can find his own way back to wherever it is he's going, and you have no duty to help him. "You seem confused, my lord. Perhaps I can be of some assistance?" What have I done?

"I was looking for the library." His sun darkened face flushed a bright shade of red. "But I seem to be lost."

"I was on my way to the library myself," Susan heard herself say as she silent cursed the impulse that made her speak. "I would be happy to show you the way, Lord Gale." What am I doing? She was accustomed to spending her time dodging the advances of suitors, avoiding them as much as possible while remaining distantly polite, but now she found herself here—offering to walk with one as far as the library. Speaking easily without the feeling of stifling duty that usually characterised her conversations outside of those with her siblings. It was strange, but somehow not unpleasant to accept his proffered arm and walk beside him down the narrow corridor towards the library.

"Queen Susan, I feel I must be honest with you."

Susan felt her eyebrows rise incredulously. Honesty—from a suitor—that is nearly too much to be believed. Of course, he could merely be preparing to make the usual dishonest declaration of love after spending a mere five minutes in my presence. Susan knew quite a number of noblewomen from Archenland, Calormen, and the Islands who would have been delighted by the constant stream of adoring declarations that she found herself enduring with barely controlled annoyance. She knew she ought to be flattered by the admiring glances of men, by the words whispered in her ear on dancefloors, and by the gifts that funded half of Narnia's army, but Susan was far too practical for that. She saw the gestures of devotion provided by visiting nobles for what they were—empty gestures, devoid of any true feeling or affection.

"Your grace?" The Galman lord at her side paused, brow furrowing again in seeming concern as he glanced at her. She realised belatedly that he had been speaking and she, too lost in her own thoughts, had failed to respond.

"Once more it seems I must beg your pardon, my lord." What in Aslan's name is wrong with me? "I must admit that I was not attending to your words."

Gale smiled, a brief flash of amusement that made Susan want to smile in return, regardless of her embarrassment. "A common enough occurrence, your majesty, and I must apologise for my insolence in speaking to you as I find that I must. You see, your majesty, I have no wish to marry you."

That was certainly unexpected, though Susan felt a surge of relief which nearly obscured her surprise. Somehow, she would have been disappointed to find that Gale was no different than the other suitors who habitually hovered around her—clamouring for her hand in marriage.

"I hope I do not offend you with my bluntness," Gale continued, speaking with a strange, rushed urgency. "But I sense that you are a woman who values honesty above flattery and I would find it unconscionable to lie under such circumstances."

"You do not offend," Susan assured him quickly, feeling her face flush again at his words. He was the first of so many to see the truth and summarise it so succinctly. Honesty above flattery. "Please, continue."

"It's my father—he sent me here to marry you without a thought for what I wanted. He's very close to the Galman king, you see, and though he has a title now, and land, my family does not come from a noble line. He saved the King's life in battle some years ago, but that gives him no real claim to power. Still, the King is old and childless, and my father entertains some notion that I ought to be named as his heir." The words tumbled out with a strange sense of urgency and Susan found herself wondering why he would tell her this. Why, when it would be so much easier to lie, would he risk telling her the truth?

"And marrying a Narnian queen would strengthen your position at the Galman court and insure your succession?" The politics of marriage were not a mystery to her, but the plan did seem particularly cold blooded on the part of Gale's father. It was customary for the daughters of noblemen to be trading into marriages in exchange for power—less so for the sons to fall victim to similar treatment.

She looked up at him, studying his face in the shadows of the corridor, and felt an unexpected stab of pity for him. His jaw was set, eyes staring straight ahead though he did not seem to see his surroundings, and his arm beneath her hand was tense—trembling as he clenched his hands into fists. She understood what he must be feeling. The helplessness, anger, the suffocating sense of duty and obligation that defined every moment of his life—it was all so similar to what she felt herself.

"That is what my father wants," he said at last, his voice as strained as his expression. "That's why he sent me here—to win you for my bride by whatever means is necessary, and I am forbidden from returning until I have done so. If I could not win you I was to attempt the same with your sister, Queen Lucy."

Susan gritted her teeth to hold back a flood of cursing for the second time that day. It was one thing for suitors to flock to Cair peddling their lies to her—it was quite another for them to do the same to Lucy. She was too young, too innocently trusting to see beyond the guile of their words and Susan feared the consequences of that—feared the betrayal Lucy would feel, the brought spark of trust and joy extinguished when she realised there was no sincerity to be found in their declarations of love.

She was certain that someday Lucy would come to resent her—to envy her elder sister the attention she received—and would wish desperately and jealously for suitors of her own, but Susan would gladly bear her sister's ire if it would spare her unnecessary pain. It was this that made her turn away—as politely as was possible—the foreign dignitaries whose eyes wandered to Lucy instead of her. She, who accused Peter and Edmund of being overly protective of her, was just as protective of Lucy with the only irony being that no one yet realised it.

"And you?" she asked, pausing in front of the library door and releasing Lord Gale's arm to face him. "What is it that you want, my lord? What is it that has made you tell me the truth—even knowing that your father will not allow you to return home, knowing that you have given up your chance to be a king?"

He shrugged, looking far older and wearier than he had when she first met him in the corridor scarcely ten minutes before. "I don't know. Freedom, I suppose. It's suffocating, is it not—having so much that is expected of you, never being free to choose for yourself, but still being required to smile and laugh, showing the world a face that is not your own." He sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and shrugged, a sudden smile lighting his face and pushing aside the weariness with deliberate brightness.

"Forgive me, your majesty, I have taken up quite enough of your time. I cannot imagine you would want me to remain here, knowing the depths of my father's greedy scheming, and I can assure you I will be gone tomorrow. I may not be able to return home, but I hear the Fauns in the Shuddering Woods have quite marvelous parties and it would seem a shame not to find out for myself." He bowed again, somewhat stiffly.

The attempt at humour was hollow, but Susan smiled obligingly. Ever the proper hostess, she thought, somewhat bitterly. The proper hostess who smiles and never says what she actually means. But is that all I am? Is that all I want to be? "Lord Gale?"

He paused, and on the door to push it open and looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised in a question. "Your grace?"

Grace? An interesting choice of title—given that she had been far from graceful when she collided with him in the corridor—but Susan could not be quite sure if he spoke the words pointedly or not.

"Do not think you must leave simply for being honest, my lord. You were quite right—I much prefer truth to flattery, and if you wish to stay at Cair Paravel you are more than welcome to do so." She smiled, hoping he would see the sincerity behind her words, and was surprised to find that the expression did not feel forced. I'm smiling because I want to—not because I am required to for the sake of politeness. She could not remember the last time—outside of talking with her siblings—that she had done so.

The Galman tilted his head to one side slightly, regarding her thoughtfully. "Very well, your grace. I will consider your kind invitation." He bowed one final time and slipped through the library door—pulling it shut behind him.

Susan was halfway down the corridor that led to the kitchens before she remembered that she too had meant to go to the library. Sundance would be furious that she—

Susan paused mid-step, feeling the blood drain from her face. Sundance was not the only one she had meant to meet in the library—Duke Tirnan was meant to be awaiting her as well. She was meant to have a polite conversation with him about his lack of manners and general ill treatment of Narnian servants, and now she would have to go back. She sighed, resisted the urge to pull at her hair in frustration, and turned back.

Perhaps Edmund can draft an edict baring all human, male visitors from Cair Paravel when he returns. It was a pleasant thought to entertain, and it was not the first time Susan had considered the possibility, but even that failed to make her smile genuine as she pushed the library door open to be met with a furious, bristling badger peering over the tops of his spectacles and a sullen Telmarine slumped in a chair before the fire.

Aslan, grant me patience to be a queen.

So, this is still a little short, but trust me, it's important. Also, this may seem like it's about to become a romance...refer to the summary where I say this is canon compliant ;-). I do love a good romance story, but I doubt I will ever try writing one. Do let me know what you think of Gale though-anyone have any theories about why he might be important? Let me know what you thought in a review!

Cheers,

A