Dawn had just rose as the youngest of Narnia's monarchs opened her eyes. It had appeared that Mr. Tumnus placed more than honey with in her warm milk the night before, under what she assumed was Peter's word. The youth did not remember much from the night before beyond Oreius, Mr. Tumnus, Vitus and Avril leaving the tent. Susan had coaxed her to drink the toddy as an argument erupted over whether or not they should move on to another location and bypass the castle. As the argument went on, Lucy's fervent arguments against the place grew laced with yawns as the alcohol took its course through out her veins. She recalled her eyelids growing heavy as she laid her head on the curved back of the chaise lounge she and Susan sat on.
And now the cock's crow roused the thirteen year old to find her sister and brothers sleeping almost in a dog pile. At her shoulder, Peter had flopped on the floor with his back to the lounge. His head had tipped back in the night, resting on the lounge's side. Lucy had to restrain a giggle for the High King's mouth sat open quite like a cod fish. Susan was sleeping in an even less dignified position. She had fallen asleep next to her sister but over the course of the night positioned her legs over the arm of the chaise lounge in a ninety degree angle. It had reminded Lucy of when Peter had fallen backwards in his chair. In front of Susan's face, Edmund's leg jutted out perilously from his random position next to Peter.
Not wanting to disturb her siblings, Lucy slipped off of the lounge and wrapping a fringed shawl around her shoulders, softly made her way to the front of the tent.
"Your Grace," Oreius greeted her, making the young queen jump. She knew the body guards would stay at the threshold of where the four slept but was shocked to see their general standing guard. Never the less she knew his presence was out of worry and it warmed her heart.
"Good morning, General." The Valiant replied, stepping out of the tent and letting the flap fall shut. Oreius surveyed his young queen as if she were liable to combust into flames. "All is well, Oreius." Lucy assured him, flashing her hallmark smile. "I'm just going to take an early morning stroll, 'tis all."
The general raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the youngest of his Queens. He had been in their service ever since before the beginning of their reign and knew his king's and queen's like books, read and reread so many times the entirety of it contents were known. The great general was also a father…once, so very long ago, and knew when one was telling a falsehood. This was one of those instances. "Then allow me to escort you." The two began to walk away from the camp sight as others began to bustle about in order to get another day under way.
A comfortable silence enveloped them as they walked to the edges of the camp. At length Oreius looked down at his queen and observed her appearance for any clues of what she was hiding. She had appeared better than several weeks ago when the four had made the decision to tour the swamp areas. However, with the stress of her hallucination, the queen looked spent and strained all over again. The dark circles that had begun to fade from around her bright eyes deepened and her keen eyes appeared to be sunken in. The Valiant's once rosy countenance appeared ashen. It was no question that she was ailing from either outside or internal and the phantasm last night only made her condition worse. Even though it would have over stepping his boundaries, Oreius decided that he needed to intervene.
"Your Grace," He began, making a point to choose his words carefully. He was never eloquent with words when they mattered. His wife was always excelled where he lacked. "The vision last night-"
"It was no mere vision." Lucy responded quietly, as if it was more for her personal reinforcement than the centaurs.
"I know 'twas a frightening-" Oreius fumbled through his thoughts and words as his ever vigilant eyes surveyed their surroundings. "Have your Majesties made a decision on the location yet?"
Heaving a sigh, the young queen tilted her head back to observe the sky before answering in a tone that attempted to mask her apprehension and anger, " 'Tis up to Peter if we stay here or move on. But it is no mystery; I know he will choose to stay to keep the majority of us four happy. Edmund and Susan seem to be bewitched by the castle."
"And you, your Majesty?" Oreius wondered softly in a fond tone, "What is your say?" There was no denying that his Kings and Queens were as dear as his own young were to him. The centaur could not come to grips to the notion then, but deep in the recesses of his heart; he knew he sought to correct his mistakes through being his monarchs' keeper.
"Oreius," Lucy said in a voice almost like her usual, cheery tone, "Have you any offspring?"
Silence fell upon them as the general quelled the feeling of despair within the pit of his stomach. At length he responded shortly, "Aye, my Lady. I had foals of my own prior to my service to you and your royal siblings. Two fillies and a colt." He kept his gaze on the distance, knowing she had brought up the subject to avoid the thought of the ghastly keep. The general anticipated the young queen to drop the subject. They were nearing a part of the surrounding marsh and would have to return to the camp before long.
"Have they grown up with colts of their own?" Lucy wondered as she skimmed her hand over the tips of knee-high marsh grasses. Her new found interest in her general's personal life prior to his service was only to change the subject and both knew that as truth. Yet, Oreius had no choice but to dispel the tale of those days before Aslan's return.
"My son and daughters have all left this world, your Highness." Oreius replied evenly. His eyes kept their vigil on the horizon until a dainty, warm hand rested on his forearm and the Valiant gave him her sympathies. " 'Twas a long time ago, my Lady." He told her, the tone in his voice thanking her for her concern.
"How did they pass?" Lucy wondered, no longer seeking for a subject changer.
"My eldest, Dragana was her name; fell in an uprising against the Witch near the beginning of the Long Winter. I had nothing left after her demise. My wife had left me after Ebele and Baldo were taken…and all I could do was dedicate the whole of my resources to Aslan's cause." Oreius explained steadfastly. It was a short soliloquy, yet Lucy knew that she would be wise not to inquire further.
"Morrow, your Grace." A voice greeted from the other side of tall marsh grasses as a Marshwiggle, the owner of the voice, stood up to make himself visible. A large leather hat solely supported flopped in front of his face, obscuring his facial features and dreadlocks.
"Good Morrow, Master Marshwiggle." Lucy returned with a small grin.
He paused before responding, his head tilted as if pondering a deep thought. At length he replied, "No, just 'morrow' your Eminence. No point labeling the morrow good when the mudfish have decided not to nibble for the fortnight."
Oreius rolled his eyes, finding the marsh dwelling creature a worse annoyance than gnats. Notorious for their pessimism, Oreius found his patience shortened while in the presence of Marshwiggles. No doubt the creature's gloomy nature would strike a chord with the Valiant and she would spend fruitless hours trying to cheer him up. She had known Marshwiggles before (they worked in the Cair's harbor) and the General had witnessed his young queen sitting with them for hours in an attempt to cheer them up. The Lion smile upon her, she tried.
"Well, there has to be a reason why." She told the Marshwiggle. "Tell me your name."
"My name is of no importance, your Grace." Came low toned answer as the marshwiggle took his fishing line out of the marsh waters.
"I've come to warn you and your royal siblings." He admitted. The Valiant cocked her eyebrows in surprise and Oreius stiffened, not liking where the conversation was going.
"Warn us of what?" Lucy wondered.
"Pay no mind to him, Queen Lucy. I should be getting you back before your royal sister and brothers begin to worry." Oreius cut in whispering into Lucy's ear. He had dealt with the marshwiggles before during the Hundred Year Winters and found the race to be the least reliable of all of the creatures in Narnia. They made a favorable position sound the same as an unfavorable situation. The only thing such a skewed and unreliable source could offer was more fear for Queen Lucy.
However, the girl resisted her companion's gentle tug on her forearm. "Warn us of what, Master Marshwiggle?" she persisted.
The pessimist leaned close to the girl, so that his wide brimmed hat ticked her forehead. Oreius' insistence that they departed was set aside in Lucy's mind when the marshwiggle elaborated. "No good can come of that castle yonder." He said quietly, pointing to the direction of the old keep.
The High King sighed from his post against a pillar and turned to Edmund. "See the psychopathic glint yet?" He whispered with a wry grin to his brother as they watched Susan in the center of seven or so dryads and fauns, scribbling her every word.
"That should do it for the Great Hall. Follow me and we'll survey the wings of the castle." Susan told the group as they made their way up one of the large staircases. The three had entered the castle not even an hour ago to survey what improvements needed to be made and Susan, being Susan took the responsibility for the furnishing and homey touches. Neither kings had any affinity for architecture and at the pointed suggestion of Susan, had no business bothering the beaver architects and mole contractors when they had no clue what was going on. And so Narnia's kings stood by the entrance of the Great Hall, commenting on the psychopathic glint in their sister's eyes adopted when she went on an ultra-productive mode.
"M'lord?" a young buck called from the other side of the room, "M'lord, King Peter, may I have a word?"
Glad to have something to do, Peter left his post at the pillar where Edmund remained. The Just heaved a sigh and tilted his head back against the stone wall, thinking about the vision that Lucy had seen and refused to listen to reason. She flat out refused to believe that it was nothing more than the marsh gases playing tricks on her mind. Wracking his brain for a way to make Lucy understand that it was nothing supernatural, Edmund did not notice his little sister entered behind him until she tapped on his shoulder.
"The Elderly Gentleman told me you three were here." Lucy told her brother with a small grin.
"Hmm." Edmund grunted in an attempt to sound nonchalant. In truth he was glad that Lucy had come to chat. "Thought you disappeared."
"I went on a morning walk 'tis all." Lucy assured him. Pausing for a moment, Lucy took a moment to look about the Great Hall. It was the same as they had left it, and she could not hide the involuntary shudder that rippled through her form. "I still don't like this place." She admitted truthfully to her brother, hoping she would find a sympathetic ear.
"You seemed to like the keep enough yesterday when we first came." Edmund reminded her. The Valiant gave a half smile knowing that she was in no such luck in finding a sympathetic ear in Edmund.
"Before I had that run in with a ghost." She mumbled to herself, crossing her arms.
"Lu," the Just sighed tilting his head back in frustration, "How many times do we have to assure you that there are no such things as ghosts?"
"I know what I saw, Ed!" She protested in the same way she did the night before.
Rolling his eyes again, the fifteen year old king cast a harsh glance at his sister. He knew not why she was clinging to the idea that the place was haunted and in sooth, her insistence was getting on his last nerve. "What you 'saw' was nothing more than the gases from the marshes. They have been known to cause hallucinations, Lucy. Mr. Tumnus even said so." He explained putting emphasis on the word 'hallucinations' to prove that the fox was nothing but one.
"This place is not right and its just not me!" She hissed into her brother's ear so others would not over hear. "Folk in this region stay away from it. They say no good can come of this keep."
Edmund gave a snort of indignation as Susan appeared at the top of the stairs with her entourage of scribbling aids. "And what folk would that be, sister?" He queried, keeping his voice low as to not offend anyone. "Marshwiggles? You know as well as I that they can make the grandest fixation sound depressing."
"But even still, if a local creature-no matter what his race-gives warning I think-"
"Lucy," Edmund cut her off, his voice revealing that he was holding back his anger at his sister's stubbornness. He brought his left hand to his forehead, a habit the Just employed when he was frustrated. "I don't know why you are so opposed to this place but-" He stopped in mid sentence, looking over at the hullabaloo over at the base of the stairs. Several worried cries emitted from the crowd. Hurriedly, Peter made his way to the base of the stairs. The circle of seven had swelled, looking over a pile of pale purple skirts.
"Su," Lucy breathed as she followed Edmund to the circle, demanding to make way.
Sprawled out on the floor, Susan's skirts fanned out about her. Seemingly dazed, her green were widened in almost surprise, wondering how she ended up on the floor. A bright crimson trail trickled down from her hair line was the only visible sign of injury. "Susan? Are you alright to stand?" Peter asked attentively, as Lucy and Edmund squeezed through the crowd. It took a moment for the High King's question to register in the Gentle's mind. "The last few steps are uneven." She explained to the assembly before shakily sitting up. "Please, do not be pulled away from your tasks due to my clumsiness."
"Are you sure you're alright?" Lucy wondered quietly as her brothers hoisted Susan to her feet. She handed her sister a hankie to wipe up and staunch the sparse blood flow on Susan's brow. While their subjects felt at ease with her explanation, her siblings knew when any of them were being dishonest.
"Quite." Came the clipped remark as she took a few steps away from the staircase with the three close by. There was something different in her body carriage that Lucy could not name and she couldn't help but wonder if her sister was pushed rather than momentarily clumsy. Smoothing out her skirts, Susan called out about getting the mole contractors to look at the steps to the group of dryads and fauns before walking away from the three.
The High King watched Susan walk towards the dryads and fauns with suspicion. "That was a bald face lie." Peter quietly told the other two, his gaze on the Gentle.
A/N: Here's chap 5. To me it seemed a bit rushed and I think there is some ooc, but I have no excuse for it. I wanted to get a chap out for Halloween. I will be continuing this fic even after Halloween. I'm just having too much fun writing scared Pevensies. Within the next chapters, the activity will begin to get a little more concrete so I'm pumped for that. YAY! Thanks goes out to the readers, reviewers and especially Electrum and my roomie, GemEncrustedEarth for helping me with this chap. (hug)