Hi all! First of all, massive thank you to those who still keep up with this fic. I realise that it has been too long since the last update but life got in the way, as it has a habit of doing. Now that exams are over and summer holidays have officially started for me, I finally have time to sit down and focus on creative writing. Heads up for the next three months though: I'll be spending summer somewhere without good internet access and posting new stories will be a bit of a challenge but I will find a way \o/

Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

'I don't know how I'd explain this, Hera,' Susan mused wryly as she gazed down at her dress. The previously pristine rose silk skirt was wrinkled and slightly stiff from her frolic in the shallows of the Eastern Ocean. Here and there, tears and dirt smudges marred the beautiful material. Her dusky sable riding cloak had fared even worse, even though she had abandoned the velvet confection before dunking herself into the waters. 'I suppose I could always tell them the truth.' The truth that rational, practical Susan had been seized by the sudden urge to swim in the Eastern Ocean and did exactly that. That afterwards, while Cair Paravel was devoid of the usual crowd of stonemasons and ironmongers Caspian hired to restore the dwelling, she had organized an impromptu scavenger hunt with the tree spirits.

Three pinecones, the list dictated, two green apples, two red apples, a loose gem from the Fount of Sirens, a sprig of rosemary from Queen Lucy's herb garden, a piece from King Edmund's chess set, a miniature tapestry from High King Peter's armory.

'Not too much, is it?' Susan consulted Hera as she drew up the list. Somehow, Hera had appointed herself Susan's right-hand woman, jostling the crowding dryads out of the way and assuming her rightful position by Susan's right shoulder. Hera blew her breath softly and shook her glorious mane, as if trying to convey her disapproval at the inadequacy of the list. 'Right you are, my lady,' Susan joked and hastily scrawled a caveat at the bottom of the list. 'Any participant who inflicts some measure of permanent damage to Cair Paravel shall be disqualified from the treasure hunt. Better?' Hera blinked lazily and folded her equine limbs under her body.

'What shall the victor receive as a prize, Your Majesty?' a dryad inquired excitedly as they perused the list.

'A prize? Oh, I hadn't thought of that.' Susan fished around the leather satchel slung carelessly across her body and triumphantly dug out a handkerchief. Edmund's handkerchief, to be exact, judging by the discreetly stitched E.P in the corner of the square material. Oh crud! Is this Ed's satchel? 'The winner of the hunt shall receive King Edmund's handkerchief,' she announced gleefully, waving the shoddy bit of cloth like a ringmaster would wave in his performers. The dryads giggled, excited at the prospect of possessing a bit of the dashing King Edmund, and raced to find their treasures.

Exhaling heavily, Susan sank down onto the grass beside Hera and examined the leather satchel. Her fingers lifted the flap and peered at the small, barely distinguishable mark on the leather. E.P. How like Edmund to have his initials stamped on everything. 'He wouldn't mind, would he, Hera?' Susan wondered. 'I don't think he'd miss the handkerchief but I don't know about the satchel.' There was already a small tear in the leather that was definitely not there earlier. 'Edmund's so horribly particular about his possessions.'

Now, having bestowed Edmund's priceless handkerchief to a willow tree dryad and divesting the apples from the search among the tree spirits and Hera, Susan carefully arranged the other finds into the satchel, taking extra care not to crush Lucy's rosemary.

'I suppose they'll think I've lost my mind again,' Susan wondered out loud. 'And I suppose it's true. There's something about Narnia, Hera. The entire country has driven all sane thought to the back of my head. I'd never be this careless with my clothes if I were back in London. Well, these are Caspian's clothes, I suppose. Maybe that's the reason why I don't mind ruining them,' she muttered. Hera snorted and Susan grinned at this display of female support. 'I know I keep telling Lucy that we shouldn't stay here, but I don't mean it. Well, I don't always mean it,' she corrected herself. 'If we have to leave Narnia again, I'd be even more devastated this time. I'd miss…I'd miss everything.' At Hera's nudge, Susan smiled and reached down to share her last apple. 'Of course, I'd miss you too. I would bring you to London with me, but I'm afraid I'd have to surrender you to Scotland Yard.'

The drawbridge leading to the Castle of Caspian slowly stretched out beyond the trees and Susan halted, dread sinking into her stomach.

'It would be so easy,' she whispered. 'It would be so easy to leave and run away. Imagine, living all by myself, away from everyone else. No one to convince, no one to please. Not having to reassure people that I'm fine all the damn time.' Hera shifted her hooves uneasily and Susan shook her head, banishing the dark thoughts that came so close to consuming her. She reached down, fetching another apple from her satchel and tossing it to the horse who caught it deftly between her teeth. 'We could live in the forests, right by the orchards, and you could have all the apples you want. Wouldn't that be grand?' The bridge stretched out interminably before her, an ill-omen of lay waiting for her beyond those morose castle walls. Her grip tightened on the reins but the satchel that rested on her hip and was weighed down by Peter's tapestries, Edmund's chess pieces and what remained of Lucy's herb garden, reminded her why she had to stay.

'How dare you send him away like that!' Lucy raged, pushing Peter's unyielding hand off her shoulder. 'You were unforgivably rude-'

'I was being sensible and exceedingly polite,' Peter countered. 'A strange man was in my sister's room, without a lady's maid or a chaperone around, might I add. The two of you were standing so close together, I wondered if you could breathe!'

'You're being ridiculous,' Lucy snapped, peeved at this exaggeration. 'I was simply checking if he had a fever and if he needed some medication. His color was running high.'

'Oh, of course!' Peter threw his hands up in frustration. 'Of course, you were. Well, would you like to know what I think?'

'Do I have a choice?'

'Fevers or…or preposterous medications were the last thing on his mind, Lucy Pevensie!' Peter exploded. 'As your eldest brother, I forbid you from talking to him ever again-'

'Peter!'

'You are not to talk to him, glance at him or even be in the same room as that boy. Do you understand?'

'Do I have to eat dinner in my room, then?'

Flustered, Peter grasped desperately for a sound reply. 'Well, dinner…dinners can't be avoided, I suppose. I will allow those. But you are not to approach his table during dinner. I absolutely forbid any sort of communication between the two of you.'

'Why not?'

'A man who dares approach the Queen's chambers while she is all alone is not to be trusted.'

'Queen's chambers?' Lucy stared at Peter, at the flushed rage in his cheeks. For a High King, Peter never truly believed in ranks and stations. He was a staunch believer of equality and never sought to impose his superior status on any of his subjects, except when the situation demanded it. 'Peter, is it because Tomas is a soldier?'

'Of course not.'

'Because you never bothered with us being Kings and Queens before this.'

'Lucy-'

'I saw his insignia, Peter. I know Tomas isn't a ranked soldier. Would you still have minded if he was a General, a Captain?'

'Lucy, please. Listen to me.' The quiet exhaustion in Peter's voice had her halting her outburst. 'This has nothing to do with his position. I don't care about all that. You know I don't.' Exhaling heavily, Peter wandered towards an intricately carved wooden trunk and sat down, shoulder drooped wearily as though the weight of the world was bearing down on him. 'One day, we'll have to leave Narnia for good. One day, you'll have to accept that this cannot be the real world for us. I don't want you to form any…attachments here because it will be much more difficult for you when we leave. Do you see what I'm trying to say here, Lu?' His hands were spread palms-up in front of him, silently begging her to understand.

'You don't want what happened to Susan to happen to me,' Lucy whispered. Peter nodded and patted the space beside him. Sighing, Lucy sat down and rested her head on his shoulder. 'It won't, you know. I barely even know Tomas and I certainly never said I liked him,' she continued smartly.

'Well, I can't say the same for that boy.'

'Tomas.'

Peter grunted. 'I know you're grown up now and you'd like to meet someone, and fall in love and get married or whatever it is that you women dream about-'

'It's not just women who dream about those things, I'll have you know.'

'Duly noted. You'll meet a good man in London, Lu,' Peter murmured. 'Or Scotland or Wales or wherever it is you'll be gallivanting off to when you leave home. But...not here , Lucy. Anywhere but here.' Lucy stifled a sob. Here, in her brother's arms, Lucy was suddenly nine and Peter was comforting her after a particularly nasty tumble from her bicycle. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

'Good men in London? Peter, you ask for the impossible,' Lucy joked weakly, yelping obligingly when he playfully tugged a lock of her hair. 'Did you really mean it when you said I couldn't talk to him?'

'Yes.' He drew back and narrowed his eyes at her. 'Why?'

'Well, it's just that…' Lucy fiddled with a loose thread on her robe. 'I rather enjoyed talking to him.'

'And?'

'And…well, it's rather nice to talk to someone my own age. It gets rather lonely around here. Everyone is either older or younger than me.'

'Lu, do you know what's rather fascinating?'

'Hm?'

'When you lie, you use the word 'rather' a lot.'

Lucy frowned in confusion but as his words began to sink in, blood rushed to her face. 'I'm not lying!' she denied hotly. 'It's true! It does get rather- get lonely without having anybody my age to talk to.'

'Lu, I know I can't stop you from doing whatever you want. God knows not even Mama could force you into a dress and make you go to church on Sundays with the rest of us poor souls-'

'I hate stuffy dresses and long sermons,' Lucy muttered.

'So we both know full well that I could forbid you from talking to him, from even breathing the same air as him, but you'd do it anyway. Am I wrong?' Peter raised an eyebrow, daring her to contradict him. Lucy opened her mouth, a witty remark already forming on her lips, but she thought better of challenging Peter and simply shook her head. 'Well, then, there isn't much I can do, is there?' Another vigorous shake of her head. 'Then, I suppose I'll have to rescind my earlier ban, correct?' This time, an animated nod. 'Why, Lu. Nothing to say? Are you rendered so speechless by my generosity?'

Lucy snorted and shoved his shoulder, sending him scrabbling clumsily off the trunk and onto the finely woven carpet. 'Would the generous High King please see himself out of my chambers? I have a luncheon to attend.'

'Right, right.' Peter raised his hands in surrender as Lucy prodded him in the back, pushing him towards the door. Just as the heavy door slid slowly shut, Peter stuck his foot in the small gap and peered at Lucy. 'Lu? About what I said? What we talked about in there?'

'Yes?'

'Don't tell Su. She doesn't…she hates it when I worry.'

Lucy bit her lower lip, nervously casting her gaze over Peter's shoulder as though afraid that Susan would suddenly appear. 'Alright, I won't.'