A/N: Hey, y'all! Sorry that this chapter took longer than last week—school started again for me on Monday, and I'm taking a weeklong creative writing course that required after-school writing. :P But I worked on it every day, just for you! ;D

In other news, Narnia Fanfiction Revolution has opened its voting booth! Follow the link on the top of our profile page to cast your final votes for 2008's "best of" Narnia fandom. Hurry, because voting closes on January 31! Thanks to all who nominated us—we're now in the running! :D

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The blood drained from Enna's head at the announcement. Galma? Why would her people have launched such an unprovoked attack on their trading ally? Galma was a peaceful island, only taking up arms when greatly wronged or a treaty broken. The only treaty that existed between Narnia and Galma was the Maritime Laws, which provided for safe passage of merchant and passenger ships, a fixed tax on all imports and exports taken by ships, and penalizing of stowaways and other fugitives.

Her heart and stomach lurched so violently at this thought that she felt liable to be sick. She was a Galmanian fugitive! An involuntary gasp escaped her lips, and Aramir, coming to the same realization, took her hand and held it tightly.

Peter, his fists clenched, bowed to the centaur. "Thank you, Epimetheus. Kindly take your news up to the castle and have Nestor ring the alarm as loud as he can."

"Right away, sire." Epimetheus bowed quickly and galloped from the clearing.

The murmur of frightened voices rose, but Enna heard Peter say to the Nymrunians, "Pardon me, my good men, but I have a country to defend. My good people!" His voice rang against the trees, silencing every squawk and bray of panic. "My good people. Listen carefully, and heed my words. Every faun, horse, dog, centaur, Dwarf, and other creatures must return to the castle immediately. Those in the host, please report to the armory. All elders and children, remain in the castle."

The dogs let out a formidable howling, and the Narnians rose up and followed Peter's orders. Enna was too horrified to move on her own—her feet were frozen to the ground—but Aramir pulled her from her seat and into the throng of frightened creatures. "Oh, Aramir," she panted, clutching at his hand as they were pushed and pulled from each direction. "Do you think—do you think that it's because of—"

"I'm sure it's not," he said, but didn't sound very reassuring.

At that moment, Peter, his head uncrowned, caught up with them, taking Enna's other hand in a fearful grip. "Enna and Aramir, listen close," he said, his voice low and eyes blazing. "I want you two to get away from the castle. Flee inland. Do you hear me? If you are found, Aramir, you may be hung for being a traitor. Enna, you will be returned to your uncle."

"Do you think that this is retribution, then?" she managed.

He closed his eyes briefly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I don't know for sure. But you must flee—flee for your lives. Take as many supplies as you need—and your gifts from Father Christmas. And find horses unwilling to fight, they will bear you swiftly away."

"Aye, Peter," Enna choked out, and Aramir tugged her away. In the distance, she heard an insistent bell, clanging urgently from the castle walls. Lights were flaring up all along the battlements, and distant shapes were running along the stone walls, some bearing torches and others spears.

Their feet soon thudded on the drawbridge, the sounds of sharpening steel and rattling armor meeting their ears. The inner courtyard was abuzz with activity, creatures of all shapes and sizes rushing to and fro, some with armfuls of white-fletched arrows and others with chain mail shirts. Enna and Aramir struggled through the crowds, Aramir's hand tight around hers. "Go upstairs," he said to her over his shoulder as they entered the castle. "Get clothes and blankets, and tie them up. I'll get the horses and supplies."

She nodded briefly and slipped her hand out of his, picking up her skirts, and ran as fast as she could up the northern staircase, tripping once on a step. It was an odd mix of emotions that tore at her soul as she hurried towards her room—her family had lived in Galma since the Old Days, and the thought that she could but in a moment be upon a native ship, surrounded by Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve once again, being borne away back to familiar soil, threatened to slow her hastening feet. But she could hear the clanging alarm bell tolling in another wing of the castle, and it reminded her of the blazing Narnian docks and the angry red Galmanian battle flags.

Once in her room, she shut the door and pulled her fine gown off before tossing it to her bed, throwing her wardrobe doors open and pulling her plainest frocks down from their hooks. In the chest at the foot of her bed she found a worn leather rucksack, and she put one of the frocks on and stuffed the other two into the sack. Her wool cloak went about her shoulders, and her soft doeskin boots she traded for the sturdy leather ones she'd brought from Galma.

As Enna passed the wide southern window, however, she caught sight of the faraway harbor. The water was blood red in the flickering light of the burning anchorage, and distant streaks of orange fire marred the inky night sky as flaming arrows were launched from five shadowed man-o'-wars. She could hear the distant shouting of the Narnians and their Galmanian attackers as smoldering shafts fell upon the dry grass and unsheltered buildings that the creatures were trying so hard to save. Charred bits of wood and straw fell from the wharfs and drifted away to sea, propelled by the nearby Great River as its waters emptied into the ocean. How dare her kinsmen do this? How dare they!

She touched the cool stone wall of her comfortable little bedroom, looking around it. Peter and his people had been so good to her and Aramir—fed them, clothed them, loved them, and she would repay them by escaping while they were left to defend themselves? What if the Galmanians found that she was missing? What if they managed to get ashore somehow and swept through Narnia, their curved swords flashing as they cut a path of destruction through this noble land?

Her mind was made up almost at the same time a harried knock sounded at her door. Dropping the pack from her shoulder and kicking it aside, Enna ran to open it, finding Aramir set and waiting in the corridor, Arondight buckled at his hip.

"Are you ready?"

"I'm not going."

"You're—what?"

"I'm staying here." Enna took the circlet off her brow as an afterthought, resting it on the desk. "I'm not going."

"Enna, are you mad?" Aramir, in two strides, was at her side, her wrist in his callused hand. "You heard His Majesty. He commanded us to leave, for our own safety! And you wish to disobey?"

"I can't leave them here, Aramir!" she replied ardently. "Not when my own people are wreaking such havoc! I have to help."

"No, you don't. You have to leave."

"I'm staying here, Aramir, and that's that. I ran away once, but I won't do it again, not when someone needs me! They have saved our lives, and we can't simply stay and help them defend their kingdom?"

She pulled him to the window and looked out at the blazing harbor. "Look, Aramir. Can I leave them to this all alone?"

Aramir was silent for a long moment as they watched through the thick glass, their breath fogging against the panes. At long last, he drew his shoulders back and said, "You're right. But I'm staying with you."

Enna knew she should at least try to dissuade him, so she could tell Peter she'd attempted it, but she was too relieved to know that Aramir would remain at her side. "Thank you."

He gave a decisive nod. "Come along, then, and take up your bow. You may need it."

Doing so, Enna slipped her quiver over her shoulder and positioned the strap across her chest, tightening the buckle until it sat securely against her back. "I think I'll need more arrows—my aim isn't all that good yet."

"Let's go down to the courtyard—I'm sure there are plenty arrows down there."

Enna nodded, a plan coming together in her mind already, and together they hurried downstairs, where busy fauns were fitting centaurs with steel breastplates, and Dwarfs were waddling about in tiny shirts of mail. King Edmund and Peter were in the middle of the chaos, buckling their swords over crimson tabards and mail shirts.

"I need arrows," Enna called to a Dwarf who was busily knotting heads to shafts. He grunted and reached down for a handful of white-fletched ones, which she slipped into her quiver.

"A buckler, master!" called a passing faun, motioning impatiently at a stack of steel shields, all emblazoned with a scarlet rampant lion.

Aramir ducked and picked one up, hefting the piece of armor in his left hand. "I see that practicing with His Majesty will pay off, eh?"

"No, it most certainly will not."

Peter's voice was tense and full of barely-restrained anger behind Enna, and she and Aramir whirled about guiltily. "Peter," Enna said, more bravely than she felt, "I've decided to stay. If the Galmanians really are here for me, I have a duty to stand up to it. And if they're not, I still want to help."

"Enna, I have no time for this." Peter's eyes were blazing with an intensity Enna had never seen.

"You need human help," Enna argued stubbornly, balling her hands at her sides. "There's only so much animals and centaurs and fauns and dryads can do."

Peter took a threatening step forward. "Enwynna Stalresin, don't argue with me!"

Enna held her ground resolutely. "Peter Pevensie, hear me out. I have a plan."

"I want nothing of it."

"Wouldn't the Galmanians expect me to flee from the castle?" she challenged loudly as he turned away. "They do not think I will remain here."

Peter hesitated a moment, but pretended he hadn't heard.

Enna noticed and went on, encouraged. "What if we send the two horses out anyway, laden with supplies and a sword, and instruct them to gallop with all haste West—or south, to Archenland. Will we not need help from them? Then, you may tell the Galmanians that we've gone, and if they decide to search, they will find only rider-less horses, and assume the worst."

Peter turned partway around. "Will they not question the horses?"

"We—they—do not have talking beasts in Galma," Enna replied, gaining confidence. "I didn't know they even existed before I came here. If the soldiers do know about the talking animals, just tell them that the horses are dumb, and tell the beasts themselves not to say a word."

"If your uncle is onboard," Peter said slowly, "and he sees you, will he not recognize you?"

The mere thought of Sabsestrin made Enna's insides quiver with fear, but she only lifted her chin. "It has been a year since Lord Sabsestrin last laid eyes on me. He will not easily identify me in Narnian dress and…with my hair down. I believe I am taller, too."

"If you had looked anything like how you did when I first saw you on the Seacharger when you were back in Galma," Aramir put in, "I would not know you for Enna today. You have grown fairer."

Enna blushed briefly before turning back to Peter. "Please, Peter, I…I have to help."

"Peter, can you hurry it up a tad?"

Peter glanced over his shoulder at Edmund before waving his hand impatiently. "Aye, aye, Enna, all right."

Enna wanted to cheer with her success, but she only nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Peter. Are there any horses you prefer us to send?"

"Er, aye," Peter said, sounding as though his attention was beginning to move on to more important things. "Send Whinim and Nrinna—they are steadfast mares, and have good heads on their necks. They will not need much coaching, and they will speak plainly to our Archenlandian allies."

Enna nodded and turned around, intending to run to the stables and find Whinim and Nrinna, but Peter caught her forearm in his gauntleted hand. "Enna..." He paused a moment. "Please stay in as much safety as you can. I…I don't want you getting wounding or being recognized. You either, Aramir."

"We will, Peter," she assured him, and he nodded briefly before releasing her to the stables. Aramir followed close at her heels as she went, his sword jangling at his hip.

"Where is Whinim and Nrinna?" he asked without preamble when they opened the creaky door.

"Why, I'm Nrinna," said a small dapple grey, looking curiously over her stall door. "Who asks?"

"I'm Whinim," said her neighbor, a sleek-coated bay mare.

"The high king needs your assistance," said Enna, going to the doors and opening them.

"Whatever for?" Nrinna asked in bewilderment.

Aramir came up behind Enna, a saddle in his arms, and said, "He has commanded that you, in order to divert the attacking Galmanians and possibly save Narnian lives, be suited and laden as though for riders, and make all haste to Archenland at once, taking the guise of dumb beasts."

"Why?" Whinim asked blankly.

"Because the Galmanians might be searching for myself and Enna," Aramir said matter-of-factly. "If they pursue what seems to be the tracks of our escape, and find only two rider-less horses, they will assume that we perished in the snow and leave."

"So…we must act as dumb horses?" Nrinna said in shock.

"Yes, until you reach Archenland. Then you must somehow gain an audience with the king. You must tell him that Narnia is under attack, and to guard their eastern borders and send reinforcements."

The two horses looked at each other. "What say you to this proposal, Nrinna?" Whinim asked.

"I think it is high time we serve Their Majesties and Narnia," Nrinna replied. "We agree."

"Ohhh, a grand adventure," Whinim said, sounding extremely excited as Aramir put a saddle on her back, and then on her companion's. "I have always wanted to take part in a daring escapade!"

"Remember, leave hoofprints where it is obvious," Enna said, filling saddlebags with the food that Aramir had slipped into his knapsack. "And, if you can, pass a deep gorge or river, so it seems as though we could have fallen to our deaths or drowned."

"Right," said Nrinna. "So…go with all haste to Archenland?"

"Aye."

"And disguise ourselves as dumb beasts?"

"Aye."

"And seek an audience with the king, warning him of the Galmanian danger and requesting assistance?"

"Aye."

"All right, then. Shall we go, Whinim?"

"Aye!"

Aramir smiled in relief at Enna, who smiled back with a deep breath. What would she do now that she had volunteered herself to help? Why…go down and defend the harbor, of course! "Aramir," she said, leaving the stables. "Come along. We are going to help the Narnians."

He jogged to catch up with her purposeful strides. "Do you have another brilliant plan, my lady?"

"Well, I think we ought to protect the structures in the bay first before we attempt to drive off the Galmanians," Enna replied. "All the wood should be drenched in seawater so it can't catch fire."

Aramir didn't answer as they crossed the drawbridge, but when she glanced at him, he was nodding his head in agreement.

Together they hurried down the snowy path towards the red-lit harbor, the previous winter silence broken by the sounds of launching apparatuses from the Galmanian ships and the answering roar of flame.

It was a scene of chaos that met their eyes upon their arrival at the docks. Kings Edmund and Peter were already there on horseback, galloping up and down the long wharf as they directed their subjects and called out warnings for incoming missiles. A nearby faun, mistaking Enna and Aramir for part of the bucket line, shoved a water-filled pail into Enna's hands. She immediately dumped it on the wooden walk beneath her feet.

Many nearby workers looked at her as though she was crazy. "What do you think you're doing, girl?" shouted a Dwarf. "The fire is thataway!"

"We must keep what is unlit as wet as possible," she called back over the roar of the nearby flames. "Otherwise, they'll catch fire too!"

"Listen to the girl!" came a loud voice. King Edmund, his coal black hair ruffling in the hot wind from the flames, rode his horse near to them, the beast obviously trying to disguise its fear of the fire. "She speaks wisely! Brikagrin, gather a fourth of these good folk and set them to preemptive duty."

"Yes, sire," said the Dwarf grumpily, and turned to the laborers. "All righ', all yeh over here—yeh heard the king! Start dumpin' water on the dry stuff! Make sure to save the moored boats, above all!"

Enna smiled to herself as she and Aramir set about doing so, even as burning arrows landed nearby and more fires sprang up on the untreated areas. She had won something, at least a miniscule inch, against her uncle and his wrathful warships.

It was a long fight, at least an hour or two, but eventually, the fires burning in the old buildings finally sputtered out, and there was no angry red lights burning on the dock, but for those in the lamps. The Narnians were tired and sooty, their eyes bloodshot from smoke and their hands blistered, but they had succeeded in saving their precious harbor.

"Sire, I believe the Galmanians have dried up their arsenal, at least for the present," said a tattered faun, its fur burnt away in charred patches.

Peter nodded, looking at the ships. "They are too far for us to assault. Do you think they know that?"

Enna watched them, too. She had always loved sea travel, felt at home on bobbing ships, but these crafts looked positively evil. A bright light was scrambling up the midmast on the largest one as a crewmember scurried up to the crow's nest. A long few moments passed, and then the Galmanian flag behind the flickering torch fluttered and was pulled away, replaced by a bright blue pennant, snapping in the brisk night breeze. "Look!" she cried, her voice echoing strangely against the water. "It's the blue flag—they've called a truce!"

A small boat splashed into the water at the frigate's side, and it began slowly moving towards the shore, an identical blue flag fluttering at its bow. The Narnians on land, though they numbered nearly three hundred, tensed visibly, and some drew their weapons.

"The people of Galma demand a truce!" came a voice from the approaching rowboat. "Permission to dock?"

"Permission granted," Peter called back. To the Narnians, he said in a low voice, "Make ready, in case they go back on their word."

Enna stepped back into the shadows of an upturned fishing vessel, dragging Aramir along with her.

The boat bumped against the dock, and three tall figures, plainly Galmanian by their sea-weathered faces and familiar dress, stepped ashore, bearing the blue flag. "His Lordship Naval General Stalresin, Duke of Anwit, and Honored Knight of the Marinal Order, gives acknowledgement to His Highness Peter, High King of Narnia and Emperor of the Lone Islands."

Peter and a guard of centaurs stepped forward. "I, King Peter, demand to know the reason for this craven attack on Narnian soil."

His tone was even, and Enna could not see his face, but she could hear the underlying righteous fury that tainted his words.

"His Lordship Naval General Duke Stalresin has declared war on the kingdom of Narnia," said the Galmanian.

"For what, pray?"

"For blatant, willful, highly injurious failure to submit to the Maritime Laws, as written and agreed to by none other than Your Highness."

A whisper ran through the observing Narnians, and Peter's shoulders drew back wrathfully. "And how, pray, did this most noble kingdom accomplish that?"

The Galmanian tilted his head as if he couldn't understand Peter's chagrin. "For taking a Galmanian merchant captain from his duty and forcing him to appear in a senseless trial, at which you illegally impressed a crew member into witness against him, and henceforth expelled a valuable and honored skipper from a vital port. And, Your Highness, all this was for a known Galmanian fugitive."

Enna closed her eyes. So they were looking for her. This was all her fault—she had caused the destruction of a Narnian port.

"Preposterous," Peter spat. "The captain moored at our docks and came ashore of his own will, demanding the punishment of a stowaway. We complied, as in order with Article III of the Maritime Laws. However, it states in Article IV that foreigners coming to shore must abide by the laws of the land, and Narnians will not tolerate unnecessary cruelty, which the captain's inhumane treatment of his captive, as well as that of the crewmember brought in to testify, clearly defines. We expelled him from our ports, nothing more and nothing less. We were perfectly in line with the Laws!"

"Nevertheless," said the Galmanian. "King Helmin has been injured by your conduct, and thus has sent his trusted general to confront you for his wounds. And what of the fugitive, one Enwynna Stalresin?"

"She is long gone away," said Peter, flatly. "She boarded the next passenger ship to the Lone Islands in early October."

"We have a witness who states he met her here in Narnia in November. What say you to that?"

"Oh, that fugitive!" Peter gave a barking, rather nervous laugh, and Enna winced. "Oh, well, she is long gone, as well. She eloped with one of my manservants earlier this afternoon—we only just found her note. They are bound for Archenland, in the southwest."

Aramir looked briefly at Enna, and she at him.

"Hm," said the Galmanian. "We shall see about that."

"What are your terms, then?"

"His lordship Duke Stalresin requests a night's cessation of hostilities," the Galmanian replied, "and for negotiation and communication to continue upon the morrow."

"Shall I meet with your leader, then, rather then a spokesman?"

"Aye. His lordship Duke Stalresin will, pending your agreement, come ashore at no later than nine o'clock to discuss treaty options."

Peter grunted, obviously displeased with having to craft a treaty with such a cowardly attacker. "Very well, then. Tell your leader that I promise nothing but to meet with him."

The Galmanian bowed. "It shall be as you say, Your Highness." He snapped his fingers, and he and his men clambered back into their small craft and began to row back to the frigates.

Peter waited until the bobbing lantern on the prow of their ship shrank into a pinprick against the inky black sea before turning to Enna and Aramir. He ran his hands once through his hair, took a breath as though to speak, then let it out again in a sigh.

"Peter…" Enna said, stepping forward. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I'll—" She faltered, but knew it had to be done. "I'll…If you think it would be for the best, for Narnia's benefit, then…tomorrow, I will return myself to my uncle, and he will leave you alone."

"Enna, no!"

It was both Peter and Aramir who spoke, and Enna blinked. "Well, why not?"

"I can't let you give yourself up to certain suffering and perhaps even death," Peter exclaimed. "Don't be silly, Enna! Narnia will rise to Galma's challenge, and have no fear—we shall carry the day."

Enna didn't argue.

"Aramir, take the lady back to the castle," he went on. "Get rest, the both of you—I want you at the negotiations. Enna, you needn't be seen, but I wish to consult you on it nonetheless, for you know your uncle's ways better than I or anyone else in Narnia."

"Aye, Peter," she said softly, feeling his goodness more strongly now than ever before.

He touched her chin briefly, then dropped his hand quickly as though he'd forgotten himself momentarily. "Very well. Wash the soot off your face and tend to those blisters on your hand. Aramir, you do the same."

"Aye, sire," said Aramir behind her, and he touched her shoulder. "Come along, Enna," came his voice in her ear. "Buck up. I'll take care of you…"

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A/N: So…if a certain someone were to write a sequel for a certain Narnia story concerning a certain high king and a certain Galmanian refugee, would you guys read it? :P I'm trying to sketch out a brief plan for the rest of "Sea Rat", and am strongly considering a sequel. It wouldn't be one of those "twenty years later, these are their kids" types of sequels; rather, I'd leave the end of "Sea Rat" kinda hanging, and continue the next part of the story in the sequel. I'd explain it more, but I don't want to give anything away! ;D I already have it planned out, though—you guys'd love it! (Well, I hope. XD)

So tell me what you think, and don't forget to vote for us in Narnia Fanfiction Revolution's Awards!