DISCLAIMER: Don't own it, never did, never will. Well, Kristin and I own all the characters... it's kind of weird for me, because I own her character in a way... Okay, message to Kristin: I OWN YOUR SOUL! Ok, at least all your lines...

She's putting up the next chappie, by the way. I think you've gotten the gist of it by now. And sorry I'm so late with this chapter: school's a nightmare. I've never been worked this hard in my life.

Hope you enjoy this chapter... it was mostly written during 2nd lunch study lab and math class. I'm getting a B in maths, thanks to you guys. If I weren't writing this chappie for you, I might have actually learned something...

Chapter Four

Impossible?

Stumbling into a dank, dark cavern, I swear I nearly passed out right then and there. This couldn't be; I was a goody two-shoes who hardly ever got in trouble. But now...

'We're in a prison.' My voice was quiet, doomed, disbelieving.

'That couldn't be more obvious,' Lori snapped from somewhere in front of me; it was too dark to say exactly where. 'I told you it was dangerous here, but did you listen? No! Now we're stuck in some weird alien jail–'

She kept talking, but I heard none of it. It was absolutely disgusting in that cell, and I'm no sissy girl, either. For a tomboy like me to be that grossed out, let me tell you, it was OBSCENE. It smelled overpoweringly of human waste from a drain in the corner that we kept far away from. The roof kept leaking in one spot, so every few seconds' peace were disturbed by that echoing drip. If I put a hand against the wall, a layer of mud and grime printed on my hand. We were in prison in a foreign country – never a good situation, but when you have no idea what that country is and its inhabited by dwarves...

I wondered if the plural of dwarf was actually spelled 'dwarfs' or 'dwarves'. I did things like that, back then. Be in the most uncomfortable spot you can possibly imagine, then wondered whose idea it was to put the fuzz on the tennis ball.

There must have been a ledge or uneven stone on the ground, because I tripped over something. 'Ugh!' I flinched, to find that I'd landed on something squishy.

It talked.

'Ethel, get off me!' groaned Alan.

I looked down. 'Ew!' I yelled, leaping up and flinching repetitively and making repulsive faces.

'He's alive!' Lori exclaimed in glee. 'Oh, man, Alan, I could kiss you!' She paused and made a face similar to mine. 'On second thought, no way.'

'We thought you were a goner,' Benjamin exhaled.

Alan grinned, a glint of mischief in his eye, and patted himself down with his hands, manacled like all of ours. 'Not yet,' he laughed.

'Yeah, guys,' I snarled, 'don't get your hopes up just yet.'

Alan stared at me intently, the mischief replaced with roaring flames. Not a glare, but more of a silent challenge. I took it, staring back unblinkingly. We'd probably be interrupted soon; we always were. But who cared? Now we were in prison, we could glare daggers all the time.

A loud noise resounded through the prison and, like all loud noises, made me flinch extravagantly. The movement severed our eye contact.

Benjamin peered pensively between the jail bars beyond our cell. 'Did you ever think where we might be?'

'I'm dreaming,' said Lori in a loud, perplexed voice. She sounded so comical in her confusion I wanted to laugh out loud. 'I'm dreaming we're on an alien planet with dwarf chefs and crappy prison conditions–'

'No,' said Alan firmly. 'We are all dreaming of being trapped in a mediaeval-like dimension with prison conditions excellent, considering the time period.'

'And the chefs?' asked Lori, dazed.

'Are dwarfs, yes,' he answered.

'Oh,' said a bedazzled Lori. 'I thought they might be.'

'Guys, shut up,' whispered Benjamin. 'I think... someone's coming.'

Someone was.

'Unlock the door, you dolt!' cried a voice, decidedly masculine, from the end of the corridor. It was a brass voice, shining and golden like the valiant bleat of a trumpet. It was a kind voice, I could tell, but now severe under his command.

The second voice was gruff and dirty, like a tongue licking sandpaper: the prison master. 'Can't do that, Your Highness. I'm under orders to keep these criminals locked up.'

'Your Highness...' I whispered to myself.

Benjamin snapped his gaze to me like a rubber band. 'Archenland...' he breathed. Something stirred in my mind; something almost but not quite like an ancient memory. Almost like returning to a place that hasn't changed when you have.

'Ethel,' whispered Benjamin, 'I think–'

'Let me at least see the prisoners,' demanded the brass voice, and I soon found myself staring at the source: a full face, golden as his words, a map of chestnut hair atop it. Fine linens and silk clung to his body in vibrant colours with a multitude of jewellery strung about his chest and arms. His eyes, like most of his body, were bright and syrupy like amber honey.

The man gently grasped my hand between the bars and pulled it through. 'Look at these hands,' he said. 'She's never done a hard day's work in her life; not a single callus or imperfection. And look,' he continued, releasing my tiny hand to point. 'See how clear their skin is? Hardly a blemish to be seen. And all so pale! Well, not him in the corner. Perhaps he is their servant, or maybe and islander, his skin is so brown.' A true statement. Alan Bennet had one of the deepest tans I'd ever seen, probably because of all that footy he played. But why was this man, this royalty of some sort, displaying all our physical features like a science project?

'And see how none of them are skin and bone. There's a healthy roundness to them.' Thanks, guy. So what if I like food?

'It's quite clear that these children... and perhaps not even that. They're too old to be just children. The dark-skinned on is swiftly nearing manhood, he may even be there already. As is this one already a woman.' He indicated me. 'But, in any case, can you not see that they are no refugees?'

'But sire... their clothes...' rasped the prison-master.

'Are strange to us indeed, but their find condidtion is undeniable. Fool, can you not see that you have thrown nobility in your jail!'

My eyes widened, and I shared a disbelieving glance with Lori. Us? Nobility? 'We're not–' I began, but the brass-voiced man glared at me and cut me off. It seemed to say, Don't say anything, we'll talk later. So I shut up.

'But Sir Callomae–' That was the prison master.

'I don't care what Callomae said! Young as I may be, I am still Crown Prince of Archenland and he is only a knight. Do you say that his authority is superior to mine?'

'Of course not, Your Highness,' mumbled the prison master, hefting an iron circle stricken with mouldy-looking keys from his belt, unlocking our cell. Benjamin and I, who had been leaning on the caged door, stumbled through, followed by Alan and Lori. Grudgingly, the man released us from the manacles. Rubbing my free wrists, I felt as though I could hug this prince fellow, I was so happy. But I didn't.

Instead, he grabbed my hand. 'Bring your friends and follow me,' he whispered, eyes shining valiantly but intensely. 'We need to talk.'

He led us down long corridors of stone strung with vivid tapestries. Almost every one depicted a great golden lion. Benjamin seemed to be in shock. At every tapestry, he'd give a short, quiet laugh. 'Oh my gosh,' he whispered over and over again, a ridiculous grin plastered into his face. 'No way... this is unreal... I must be dreaming...' If I hadn't been so out-of-breath, I would've asked him what made the situation more unbelievable.

The prince halted suddenly, glancing anxiously from side to side. Liquid like, he slued to one wall and pulled open a grey door on well-greased hinges, disappearing into the room beyond. His voice echoed, 'This way.'

One by one, we slid through the door. I was inside first – inside a dark room smelling grossly of mildew and dust, making a heavy cough stumble dryly from my through. Once we were all inside, the prince bolted the door, then bent down on his knees. He chose a large inlaid stone on the floor, a bit larger than a beach ball, seizing it. To my astonishment, he pulled it away to reveal a smallish hole in the ground.

'In here, my lady he whispered to me. Without hesitation, I leapt through the tunnel, landing unsteadily on my feet.

A grunt escaped me as a heavy weight rammed into me from above. I landed flat on my back with the something on top of me.

Something with a face. It was inches from mine, hands palm-down against the ground on each side of my head, caging me in.

'Ethel–' it murmured.

'Bennet, please don't tell me we're going to make a regular habit of this,' I groaned, hastily untangling myself from underneath him. And just in time. Lori landed in a squatting Spiderman pose between us. Benjamin soon followed, though without the bumble that had occurred between Alan and I. The prince leapt in last and slid the stone back into place.

'We'll be safe here,' panted the prince heavily. 'Here' was a small room, stone like the rest of the castle, but not without charm. It, like the hallways, was adorned with a tapestry and two flaming torches, a threesome of comfortable-looking chairs scattered about the floor. A bowl of fresh, strange fruit rested on a small end table. He noticed me admiring it, and said, 'My younger sister and I found this place when we were only children. It's evolved since then, but we'll still come visit every now and again. At least it's safe.'

Lori looked fiercely at him. 'Safe from what! I don't exactly want to be murdered in my own dream!'

The prince laughed magnificently; I couldn't help staring. The smile glorified his face even more. 'A dream, is it? You're a funny one, Tree-Girl. It's just that here, we won't be overheard.'

'Tree-Girl?' spat Lori. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

He laughed again. 'Look at you! Why, I doubt you're of Dryad heritage, but you'd even give Tirian a run for his money, and his kingdom's swarming with tree-women.'

'Tirian...' Benjamin's eyes glittered.

'But now, my friends,' said the prince gravely, 'we must talk.' He looked at me serioudly.

'Fine,' I said. 'Talk.'

'Well, first off, why are you here?'

'What, didn't we tell you?' laughed Lori sarcastically. 'We're here delivering mushroom shipments for your kitchens.'

The prince only blinked. Twice. Then he stared at me. 'Why are you here?'

'Your Highness,' I began, 'I really have no idea. We came here by mistake. But before we answer anything else, we have some questions of our own.'

'An answer for an answer. We'll take turns,' suggested the prince.

'Right then,' I said. 'Who are you and why should we trust you?'

'Two questions in one, but I'll let it slide.' He grinned, then stood and gave a deep bow. 'Crown Prince Daunin Drisalan Whittiern Bavair Thornwhistle of Archenland at your service.' He winked. 'But you may know me as Daunin.'

'Why should we trust you?' I prompted.

Daunin seemed about to answer, then stopped and thought. Finally, he said, 'Trust is not a matter of why. Trust is a matter of trust. I cannot make you trust me.'

I nodded, a slight smile on my face. That is the best answer there ever was to such a question. 'I trust you, Daunin.'

'As do I,' said Bennet.

'And me.' That was Benjamin.

Lori had plucked ripe apple from the fruit bowl and was eating it. As soon as she noticed what was going on, she swallowed, saying, 'Me, too.'

Daunin smiled. 'So let's get some things straight. You're not royal–'

'You just said yourself that we were!' Lori protested.

He waved a hand, as though he thought the matter trivial. 'So the prison master would release you, of course. There is no doubt in my mind that you are of common birth; you would've made a bigger deal out of being arrested. Command that they unhand you, threaten them with hanging for high treason, yell at the prison master in your cell. You did none of it.' Daunin shifted his weight. 'What I don't understand is where you all came from. For your accents are all the same, garments of the similar fashions. And while both are alien to me, I don't understand how you can all come from the same place when you three–' he nodded at Lori, Benjamin, and me, 'are so place while he,' indication to Alan, 'so dark. You're clearly not from Archenland. He is brown enough to be Tarkaan, or maybe Terebinthian, but you three... hmm. You, what is your name?' he asked Lori. She told him. 'Lori, I have said that you could very well be Dryad, but it's a folly, I'm sure. But you two have that look about you.' He meant Benjamin and me. 'From Narnia, if I didn't know any better.'

Lori dropped her apple. 'What did you say?'

Daunin frowned. 'I said you might be from Narnia, if I didn't know any better–'

I grinned at the silly expressions on everyone's faces. Perhaps they didn't believe it, but I did. The words Archenland, Tarkaan, Terebinthia didn't mean anything to them, except maybe Benjamin. Of course not; they'd never read the books. Benjamin himself had only gotten as far as Prince Caspian, in the original order, of course. But Narnia they most certainly recognised, as did I. The other words were only tiny fading lights in my mind, while Narnia was a great neon sign.

Alan was the first to speak. 'Oh, ha-ha. Very funny. I get it now! This is one of those hidden camera shows, isn't it?' But it sounded as though he believed this was happening against his will.

I smiled to myself, letting them believe that they were dreaming.

You and I were always meant to wake the dreamers from the dark...