You stared at the ceiling when you woke up the next morning. Dread filled you to the core and you knew, just knew, Miraz would be there, his army would be there, that day. Narnia would change forever.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes and sighed. You stretched out your shoulder, feeling the ache and pull. Could you even fight if you had to? You thought of Lucy and her cordial, wondering if it could help. Whatever the centaurs used as a salve was healing it up nicely, but it had a long way to go to be battle-ready. You were going to ask Caspian just in case.

You wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and stepped out of the room. No one was around, which was a good sign. Everyone was going to need their rest for the day.

With quiet steps, you snuck to Caspian's room. Lamplight spilled out from it, so you whispered out his name hoping he was in there. You pulled the blanket tighter around you when he appeared in front of you.

He was also in the same state of dress, but at least he had pants unlike you who had your long-sleeved chamise and blanket covering you. Your father would kill you had he seen you speaking to a prince in that state.

Caspian blinked and studied you. "What are you doing here?" He almost asked why you weren't properly dressed.

"I need your opinion, Caspian." You stepped into the room without being invited in. "I'm sorry that this is improper, but… you've been hurt before, yeah? And I mean like really injured."

He nodded, checking over his shoulder when he heard shuffling in the passageway.

"I need your opinion. I need to know if I can fight with my shoulder. You have to look at it. I don't know enough about fighting with an injury… if it's healed enough to swing a sword."

"I… You should ask one of the centaurs, Y/N." Slowly, his cheeks reddened.

"Okay, you're probably right. But I trust you more than them. You'll be honest with me. You won't sugar coat it. Please, Caspian. I'm worried I won't be able to help you."

The prince rubbed his face and then ran that hand through his hair. "If you can't help with fighting, that's okay. There are plenty of other places we can use your help. You don't have to lift a sword."

You stood in front of him. "But I want to fight with you. I didn't learn how to wield a sword so I could sit back and give orders or encourage soldiers. I want to be like Susan and Lucy."

"Y/N…"

"What? Are you worried about my reputation? There are rumors that travel through Anvard about me, you know. With every prince I turn away, the more people believe I have a secret lover hidden away. You checking my shoulder isn't going to ruin my reputation any more than my unwillingness to marry."

Caspian was surprised. Anger flashed through his dark eyes. "And your family lets them say those things about you?"

"We're not talking about that right now, okay? Just check my shoulder and tell me what you think. Then I'll be on my way. No one has to know a thing."

He finally gave in after a long pause. "Which shoulder?"

You turned around and pulled down your collar over your left shoulder. You didn't look back at Caspian for fear of showing how embarrassed you were. The hair on the back of your neck rose when his fingers brushed your skin as he pulled your shirt down enough to see the wound.

It was bruised around where the arrow entered your flesh. The entry wound had scabbed a little, but it wasn't quite ready to deal with the strain of lifting a sword. Where they pulled the arrow out would be no better.

"Y/N… It's not–you can't fight with it like this. You'll bleed the second you swing your sword."

Sighing, you tugged your shirt and the blanket back onto your shoulder. "I was afraid of that… Thanks."

He cleared his throat and didn't meet your eyes right away after you turned around. "Have you spoken with Lucy?"

"About what?" You didn't like how the air felt off from a minute ago.

"Her cordial might help."

"It crossed my mind. I didn't know if it could heal wounds. I've seen it bring someone back from near death, but not close up a wound."

Caspian hesitated and then reached out to squeeze your upper arms. "Lucy should have been the first person you went to."

You rolled your eyes. "Probably, but sometimes I'd rather come to you – who I've known all my life – rather than someone I've known three days… Someone who isn't from our world." You stared a second longer and then brushed past Caspian in a huff.

Your frustration had no place there and you knew it. Caspian's apprehension made sense. It did. But it didn't mean you had to like it. Why did everything have to change when people aged? He would have looked over your shoulder without question had you both been younger.

You let out an oof as you ran into someone and fell back. Apologizing, you got up to help the poor soul. It was a pleasant surprise to find Lucy rubbing her backside as she stood.

"Good morning, Y/N!" The wide grin of hers made you smile. "You're up early." She took in your attire. "And still not dressed. Do you need help?"

You chuckled and shook your head. "I was taking a walk before getting ready for the day. I have a lot on my mind."

"Anything I can help with?"

"Actually, yes." You and Lucy started walking back to your room. "Your cordial. Does it heal injuries?"

"Of course! I used it once on Edmund when we fought the White Witch. He nearly died… but it healed his wound in seconds."

You touched her shoulder. "I'm glad you had your cordial to help him. He seems like a wonderful brother."

She nodded. "So, what do you need with the cordial?"

"Before we met you and your siblings, a Telmarine soldier managed to shoot an arrow into my shoulder. It's not healed enough for me to fight. I was hoping you could help me?"

"Let's get into your room first." Lucy took your hand and practically skipped the rest of the way there.

You sat down at her request and she pulled out the red liquid. You stared at it curiously. "It's lasted this long?"

"It was in a safe place. I try using it sparingly. But for you? I think it's wonderful having another woman on the battlefield. I want you at your best. Where's the wound?"

Once again, you dropped your shirt and blanket off your shoulder. You watched as she spilled a single drop on the entry and exit wounds. It's didn't sting or burn. Ever so slowly, they scabbed up until they turned into a scar. From there, they disappeared altogether, leaving your skin flawless.

"Wow."

"It's cool, right?"

"Let's hope you won't have to use it much today."

"Is Miraz's army here?"

You shook your head. "Don't you feel them coming?"

"No. Should I?"

"I don't know. This isn't the first time I've felt something when no one else has. Maybe I'm the odd one."

"Or maybe Aslan has gifted you with something to help Narnia."

"Intuition?"

"Possibly. Have you had dreams that you were able to decipher or that predicted the future?"

"Yes." It was only one dream, but everything you saw had happened.

Lucy smiled. "There's a book we have in our world. A lot of people know about it. Most haven't read it. In it, there are people – prophets – who have dreams given to them by a higher being very much like Aslan. They can understand them and have helped kings in their monarchy. They were real people in my world who interpreted dreams. Magic doesn't exist there. Is it so strange that in the most magical place we've been you've been given a gift of insight and dreams?"

"I guess not. Do you really think Aslan would give me a gift like that?"

"Absolutely. Now you need to find out how to use it to help Narnia."

Lucy left you with a lot to think about. You couldn't think of anything else. It wasn't until early afternoon when you gathered enough of your thoughts to finally talk to someone – Caspian as usual. Except when you finally found him, he and the Pevensies were standing on the ledge looking out at the army marching out of the woods. It was time.

Everyone moved into action. You grabbed Caspian's arm to stop him and glanced up from the ground to each Pevensie as they went by. Once they were gone, you looked at the prince. A lot was going on in his eyes that you struggled to decipher.

"I have to tell you something, but I want to say I'm sorry for acting petty earlier," you said, letting go of him. "I talked to Lucy after… My shoulder's all better." You even moved it up and down to prove it.

"I'm glad." He sounded terse. You hated it.

"Um… This morning was stupid, and I shouldn't have come to you so… inappropriately dressed. I was selfish and didn't think about how uncomfortable you would be. I should have considered your feelings before asking you to do something most see as, well, you know."

Caspian crossed his arms and sighed. "I want to help you, to be there for you, Y/N. You have to be careful what you ask of me and how that comes across to others who don't know our friendship. Whatever rumors pass around Anvard about you… they shouldn't follow you here. No one should have a reason to think of you like that."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'll be more cautious from now on." You hugged Caspian before he could unravel his arms. "I'm really sorry."

Caspian breathed in like he was going to say something, so you stepped back to watch his face. He stayed quiet and shook his head, looking away. "It's… okay."

You raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly. It didn't seem like he was all right with it, but the conversation was finished for him. He dismissed himself with a glance toward the Telmarine army, leaving you crestfallen because you didn't have a chance to tell him about your supposed gift. You followed him quietly back into the How.

Everyone gathered around the Stone Table and began discussing the plans for battle. The most crucial part, the part that could lead to victory, was all up to Lucy.

Trumpkin was displeased with the idea. "Cakes and kettledrums! That's your big plan? Sending a little girl into the darkest parts of the forest alone?"

"It's our only chance," Peter said.

Susan jumped in. "And she won't be alone."

"Haven't enough of us died already?" Your heart broke for the dwarf.

"Nikabrik was my friend, too," Trufflehunter said. "But he lost hope. Queen Lucy hasn't and neither have I."

Reepicheep raised his sword. "For Aslan!"

A bear cheered, too. You smiled at the encouragement.

"I'm going with you," Trumpkin told Lucy.

She shook her head. "No. We need you here."

"We have to hold them off until Lucy and Susan break free." Peter wasn't backing down.

Caspian stepped forward. "If I may." Peter stepped aside for him. "Miraz may be a tyrant and a murderer but as king, he is subject to the traditions and expectations of his people. There is one, in particular, that may buy us some time."

You tried holding back your excitement, but your grin wouldn't go away. Caspian was a genius.

You didn't get to tell him that before they left with Susan and Lucy to saddle a horse. He even glanced back at you before leading the way. For some reason, it hurt. Had you messed up that badly? Did you become someone different to him because of your small request? Would he let that change how he thought of you? Were you the kind of woman the rumors said you were? Your heart hurt.

"Are you okay?"

Edmund was walking toward you. He hadn't spoken to you much, not that you expected him too. You weren't sure quite sure how to act around him since he was younger than you, but still a king.

"You're crying," he continued, pulling out a handkerchief.

You thanked him quietly and quickly wiped the traitorous tears away. "I'm all right. Thank you for asking."

"I have two sisters. I'm pretty sure you're lying." His smile was gentle, understanding.

"I don't think we have much time to discuss the inner workings of my mind, Your Highness."

"Edmund."

"Okay… Edmund. You have to go speak with Miraz."

He casually leaned his shoulder against the wall. "I have time."

You blinked. Had Edmund always been so sure of himself? And he wasn't being a snob about it. He was just confident.

"What's wrong?"

You told him. You didn't stray far from the rumors in Anvard and Caspian ignoring you. The trembling feeling you had before crying came back, but you held yourself together.

"Did you do something that upset him?"

"Ah, well… I'm not supposed to tell anyone…" You sighed. "I asked Caspian to check a wound I had on my shoulder. He didn't want to because it's, um, inappropriate. I don't know how it is in your world… being alone in a room with a man – a prince no less – doesn't sit well with most people. Showing quite a bit of my shoulder to said prince looks worse."

Edmund's eyes shifted to your shoulder and a grin grew on his face. "Your shoulder?"

You nodded.

"Shoulders aren't so risqué in our world. By the sound of it, I think Caspian is embarrassed more than upset."

"Well, yes. Even I can see that."

Edmund rolled his eyes and stood up straight. "That's not what I meant exactly. You two have been friends since infancy, right? You watched each other grow until you were separated – Lucy told me. Then you see each other again. You're both different people from the last time you saw each other."

"Yeah. Go on."

"And you're… pretty."

Your heart sped up a little. "Um… is there a reason you paused?"

He laughed. "I didn't know what word to choose and it doesn't really do you justice, does it?"

Your cheeks got hot. "Oh." What was happening?

"Would it be bold of me to suggest Caspian might also find you pretty?"

"It's not probable, but okay. You know Caspian and Susan can't stop staring at each other, right?"

"Who hasn't noticed? It's gross. My sister… Caspian could be making himself think he's interested in her to avoid making your friendship awkward."

You shook your head. "But we're friends."

"This kind of thing happens every day in our world. Why can't it happen in Narnia?"

"Because if he has any sort of interest in me, then somewhere down the line marriage is going to come into play a-a-and I'm not ready for something like that."

Peter called for Edmund. He nodded at his older brother before looking back at you. "Is marriage such a horrible thing? Who better to marry than your best friend?"

"No. I can't. I won't. I don't want to."

"If it matters at all," Edmund started walking backward toward his brother and Glenstorm. "I think you'd make a wonderful queen of Narnia."

Your eyes followed Edmund out of the How. Somehow that conversation felt endearing. Edmund was as smart as he was observant, and he seemed to understand you better than yourself. Maybe he was right about Caspian. But were you okay with that?

Suddenly, a giggle bubbled up from your throat, causing you to cover your mouth. A few eyes looked for the source, but none lingered.

King Edmund, a King of Old, said you were pretty.

King. Edmund.

If that wasn't the most flattering thing you could hear, you weren't sure what could top it.