Author's Note: Hi guys! Just to let you know, I'm still looking for a BETA if anybody's interested. I could really use some help. I'm not too thrilled with this chapter, but I've had it sitting for days and I still haven't found a way to improve it, so that's that, I guess. Please bear with me; I know it's a little boring, but this chapter sets up a lot of important groundwork. The idea's a little unoriginal, but I'm still having a lot of fun with it. Um, this is completely gen, too, if I hadn't mentioned that earlier. Oh, and please note the AN at the end.

Chapter 2:

Pandemonium

"Ivory. No, bone. Bone. Or maybe the alabaster. . ."

Lucy huffed, eyeing the distance between her current position and the door of the Cair's official "linen chambers." She and Susan had taken a break from their more pressing duties in order to focus on restoring the portions of the castle that had yet to be inhabited, but Lucy would have rather been dealing with affairs of state than what they were doing now. A plump, motherly Hen named Ro had gently suggested that the queens might pick out a color scheme – a color scheme, for Aslan's sake – for the eastern ballroom. Susan, calm, cool, no-nonsense Susan, was rarely so excited, and was completely unaware of her younger sister's boredom.

"But then I do like the ivory. . . Lucy, what do you think?" Susan gestured to the fabrics in front of her.

"I think," Lucy, somewhat snappish, began, "that they all look. Exactly. The. Same."

Susan clicked her tongue. "Lucy, this one's clearly darker. . . Oh my, this ecru is simply lovely!"

Ro, seeing the younger queen fidget, spoke up, her voice somewhat warbled from her sharp beak. "Queen Lucy, I know the dryads are working in the rose garden in the southern courtyard. Perhaps you would be better suited there?" The remark would have sounded pretentious coming from many, but Ro was a simple-hearted creature who, much like Lucy herself, only wanted people to be happy.

Lucy lit up immediately, giving the spotted Hen one of her infamous smiles. "That would be lovely! It's a beautiful day outside! Susan, you wouldn't mind terribly if I left you to finish this alone, would you?"

Susan smiled at her sister's enthusiasm. "Not at all. I'm sure the dryads would love your help. Before you go, make sure you change –" She broke off, realizing Lucy was already out the door.

"Ooooh, look good friends t'wards the Eastern Sea,

Over comes my lass as pretty as can be,

She's the loveliest sight you'll ever see,

My lovely, lovely lady."

Lucy, reaching for a distant clump of burdock, sang in her clear and vibrant soprano. The rose garden, though ignored during the Witch's reign, had managed to tenuously cling to life. The dryads were now trying to restore it to its former glory, weeding the surviving bushes and planting new ones where there was room. Iole, the beautiful Magnolia dryad that she was assisting, had taught Lucy a tune about a man and his beloved, and now Lucy was repeating it to commit it to memory.

"Very good, my queen. You learn quickly, and your voice is pleasing." Iole spoke softly, giving Lucy a slow smile. Lucy grinned in return.

"Thank you. It's a pretty song, Iole. Tell me, where does it come from?"

Iole handed her a trowel. "If you wouldn't mind, your Majesty, could you dig a hole there?" She indicated a spot to Lucy's left just as Susan had pointed to fabrics earlier. "I think a white bush would lovely over here; don't you?" Lucy gave a small nod and began to dig while Iole continued to search for weeds.

"The song is of Merfolk origin, I believe. The legend is that there once was a sailor – his name was Fechཽn, if I recall – who was thrown off his ship during a terrible storm. His shipmates found him later on an island, and he insisted that he had been rescued by a 'fair creature of the sea,' and that they had fallen in love and were betrothed. His friends dragged him screaming off the island, for Fechཽn was severely dehydrated and, in their eyes, clearly delusional.

"They went on their way and eventually wound up at Cair Paravel to trade in the market. This was during the reign of King Frank V, and Narnia was a thriving country, just as it will be under your Majesties rule. Fechཽn was quite hysterical at this point, pining for his love. He slipped away from the careful watch of his friends one day and headed straight towards the ocean. His companions followed, and Fechཽn, up to his knees in the water, began singing and pointing to the water. Sure enough, Maris, the most beautiful of all the Mermaid princesses, swam up to greet him with a kiss."

Lucy sighed at the story, hole forgotten. "And then what, Iole?

The dryad shook her head. "No one knows. The story ends there, I'm afraid."

Lucy smiled and began digging at the soft brown dirt. "I bet they got a happy ending. It would be horrible not to after all that."

"Indeed, my queen."

Lucy continued to dig, thinking on the fates of Maris and Fechཽn. She could ask one of the owls in the library later, surely they would know –

"Queen Lucy! Queen Lucy!" Lucy stood at the sudden and frantic sounding call of her name. A sleek Greyhound was bounding up the hill towards the mud-splattered queen.

Lucy, recognizing the fear in the Dog's eyes, unconsciously dropped the trowel clenched tightly in her palm. "Piripi," she said when the Greyhound had reached her. "What. . ."

He was panting from exertion. "Queen Lucy, . . .the armies . . . have returned." He caught his breath, then continued. "General Oreius requests that you bring your cordial immediately."

Lucy hid her fists in her skirt to hide their shaking. "Piripi. . . is it one of my brothers?"

"I know not, my Lady. I was sent directly here by the General."

She nodded, recognizing the importance of speed. Lucy turned and sprinted the castle. The journey to her room and the glistening diamond bottle was a blur, and the next thing Lucy knew she was on the front lawn, dashing towards the incoming troop of soldiers. Susan, who had obviously been informed as well, sprinted ahead of her.

The two queens slid to a stop in front of a grim-faced Oreius. He bowed briefly and looked at the youngest Pevensie. "Your majesty, the cordial?"

Lucy nodded wordlessly. The General turned around and headed into the crowd. After following for a few seconds, Lucy recognized a tow-headed figure among the soldiers. "Edmund!" Susan was screaming her brother's name, but Lucy was too frozen to move. She noticed the swollen knot on Edmund's head, the long gash on his stomach, the shocked, haunted look in his usually sparkling dark eyes.

She also noticed the hastily made litter that bore the High King.

She stepped forward, quietly taking in her eldest brother. His eyes were tightly shut, and he was writhing terribly, hissing and grinding his teeth in pain. She could see no wound, though Peter was a bit pale and there was a slight mark on the area of his tunic above his right shoulder. It almost looks like a burn. . . But besides the shaking and moaning, something seemed wrong about Peter. Lucy shook her head and continued towards her brothers.

"Edmund, what happened?" Susan's eyes flickered between her older and younger brothers.

"He," Edmund swallowed, looking as pale as Peter. "He jumped in front of a Hag's spell to save me."

Lucy stepped over to Peter's side, recoiling a bit when he jerked suddenly. She couldn't shake the feeling that Peter was still off somehow, and that frightened her. She hesitated for a moment, but then she remembered a time when she had chicken pox as a little girl. Peter had been her willing servant that week, spending so much time reading and talking to her that he caught the pox as well. She could at least do the same for him, and she was supposed to be Queen Lucy the Valiant, after all. She dauntlessly took another step forward, uncorking the cordial bottle and bringing it to her eldest brother's lips.

The effect was almost immediate. Peter's arched back slowly relaxed, and his grinding teeth unclinched. His breathing eased, and he appeared to have fallen unconscious. Susan hovered beside Lucy, stroking Peter's bangs away from his sweaty forehead. Edmund stood on the other side of the litter, watching the other king carefully.

"Oh, Peter. . ." Susan's hand froze as she crooned to the High King. "Lucy," Susan wheeled about, "Does he seem . . . smaller to you?"

Lucy once again looked over her brother and gradually noticed Susan had a point. The bulk of muscle Peter had acquired in Narnia had disappeared, and his hair seemed a bit longer, his bangs nearly brushing his eyebrows. Peter wasn't incredibly large for his age, but his hands and arms now seemed to be the same size as Susan's. It was, Lucy realized with a jolt, what she sensed wrong earlier. For the first time since coming to Narnia, Peter appeared to be more of a child than Lucy's big brother.

Edmund, who seemed to have calmed a bit when Peter did, studied his brother. "What? Smaller?" He blanched again. "Oh, Aslan, the curse! It must have been the Hag!"

Susan looked at Edmund. "What did she say? Do you think–"

She was cut off by a groan from the High King. Peter tossed his head, squinting his eyes and groaning again. Susan put a hand on his head and he slowly opened his eyes. "Mum?"

"Shh, Peter. It's me, Susan."

"Susan? Where's mum? What happened?"

Susan frowned with worry. "You got hurt in battle, Peter. Mum's not here, remember?"

"Battle?" Peter's tone was hesitant. "What battle? And what happened to Mum?"

"You and Ed went to find the last of the Witch's creatures. We're in Narnia, Peter, don't you remember?"

Peter looked at her wonderingly. "Narnia. . .what?"

A shocked silence followed and Lucy's head spun. He doesn't know Narnia? Oh, Peter, what happened to you? Her oldest brother had caught sight of the Faun guards bearing his litter and was now furtively trying to get away. Lucy realized that, in his addled state, Peter didn't recognize them.

Or maybe, Lucy thought with a jolt, it's not because he's confused. . . Susan's words about Peter seeming smaller rose unbidden in her mind. He even sounded younger, although that was partly due to his complete bewilderment. But Ed had thought it had something to do with a Hag's curse. . .

"Peter," she said, speaking for the first time, "what year is it?"

Her brother, Aslan be praised, didn't hesitate. "1939, Lu. Why?"

Susan let out a small gasp and Edmund was certainly paler than Peter now. Lucy felt her stomach sink.

Peter hadn't answered in Narnian time; he had answered as if they were still in England. And when the Pevensies had last been at the Professor's house, right before they had discovered Narnia, the year had been 1940.

AN2: I know I said this idea is unoriginal, but this is NOT an amnesia!fic, folks, I promise. Well, not really, anyway.