A/N: Woah. Two updates in ONE day! I must really love y'all! :D Be sure to tell me how much you love me back and review—not like you guys need encouragement in that department, though. ;D

BTW, sorry it's so short - but you'll soon see how quickly it moves the plot along.

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Enna woke early the next morning and slid out from under Peter's arm, dressing as quietly as she could and tiptoeing from the tent. The sunlight blinded her, but the fresh air filled her lungs and ruffled the hem of her frock, and she sighed deeply.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," said a passing faun, and bowed deeply.

Enna blinked. "Er—aye. Thank you." Your Majesty! Fancy that! Queen Enna of Narnia. It does sound decent…

"Well, you're up early," Lucy said when Enna approached the campfire. "I'd have thought you and Peter would lie in late."

"I'm hungry, that's all," Enna replied carefully. After much thought, she'd decided that the kingdom did not need to know that their king's marriage hadn't yet been consummated.

"I'll bet you are," Lucy said with a devilish wink and a grin. "Come, sit by me. Breakfast is almost ready."

Flushing fiercely, Enna went and did so, fiddling with Peter's necklace as it rested against her chest. "Where are Aramir and King Edmund?"

"Aramir is still sleeping—I looked." Lucy blushed and giggled a bit shyly, causing Enna to look with surprise at her.

"And why is that, Lucy?"

Lucy picked self-consciously at the grass. "I…"

"You…?"

"Oh, you must think me absolutely foolish," the young queen laughed. "But you'll forgive me, Enna—I have a question I've been dying to ask you for quite awhile now."

Enna accepted the bowl of porridge that the Dwarf stirring the pot handed her. "What is it?"

Lucy took a bowl and thoughtfully ate a bite of the food. "Well…well, Peter and Edmund and Su have decided that I am still too young to accept any foreign princes or kings that seek my hand in marriage."

"Aye."

"I suppose my question is…well, one of them, anyway…what do you think they would say if I wanted to marry someone who was not a prince nor king?"

Enna looked at her. "Well, Lucy, I suppose they would still say you are too young."

Lucy sighed, poking at her porridge. "Of course they would. But the principle of the thing—would they object, do you think, to me marrying a…a commoner? Peter married you, yes, but you are a gentleman's daughter, and he is the high king. Do you think it would be different for a woman to marry down?"

"It is not for me to say, I'm afraid."

"But you are queen now, too," Lucy reminded her. "You and I are of the same rank now—you may officially challenge my brothers on any matter now! Would you allow me to marry below my station?"

Enna thought a moment. "Well, I suppose if you truly loved the man, and were positive you would be happy, I would have little qualms about letting you. But I think that, practically speaking, it would be best for Narnia if you married a foreign prince."

"Yes, I was afraid you'd say that," the younger girl sighed fretfully.

"Afraid? Why, Lucy—have you set your heart on someone already?"

Lucy giggled nervously, but nodded. "You are clever enough to have guessed already who."

Enna hid a smile. "Is it…Sir Aramir Ealion, perchance?"

"Aye…! Edmund tells me I am acting like a goon, but I can't help it. Whenever I see him, my heart makes funny little flip-flops." Lucy hugged herself gleefully, her round face glowing. "I suppose I needn't explain it to you—you already know what it is like!"

Enna smiled but didn't reply: Lucy didn't need to know how few giddy feelings she experienced in Peter's presence.

"Well, he is a knight," Lucy mused. "He is not completely common. At least he is not Narnian…do you think I could convince my brothers to let me marry him?"

Enna drew back a bit at this. "Has he asked you?"

"Asked me?" Lucy snorted. "Hardly. I'd like to think I hide my feelings better than that!"

"I see. Do you intend on telling him?"

The queen looked astonished. "Tell him? Of course not! I would never do that. At least, not now. Perhaps later…but not now."

"I'll advise caution," Enna said seriously. "Do not leap heedlessly into any affairs with men. I've learned that well."

"You certainly married Peter quickly enough."

"Mm." Enna began to eat her breakfast before Lucy could question her again.

A few minutes later, Edmund came out of his tent, yawning and rubbing sleepily at his eyes. "Good morning, Lu. Good morning, Enna."

"Good morning, Ed," Lucy chirruped, patting the grass next to her. "Have some breakfast?"

"Gladly," the young man sighed.

"Is Aramir up yet, do you know?" Lucy asked casually, picking an invisible piece of lint off of her skirt.

"I think I saw him polishing his sword a moment ago," Edmund yawned.

Lucy looked expectantly around. "He ought to eat. I'll go and fetch him." So saying, she got to her feet and scampered off, humming happily.

Edmund and Enna sat in silence, the only sound being that of Edmund's spoon against his bowl. Eventually, though, he looked up at her. "Does my brother still sleep?"

"Aye."

"He must be very tired."

Enna fought a blush—why must everyone assume he had lain with her last night? "I was not."

Edmund nodded disinterestedly just as Lucy came skipping back, Aramir in tow. "You must eat, silly goose," she was telling him.

Enna looked away as Aramir's dark eyes met with hers—she could not stand the reproach she saw there. She wished she had not been so hasty in giving away herself to Peter, but if she had to be reminded of it every time she looked at Aramir, she'd go mad!

Just as Aramir smiled at Lucy and took a bowl of porridge from her, there arose a commotion in the far end of the camp. Edmund, stretching, shielded his eyes against the sun, looking.

"What is it?" Lucy asked.

"I can't tell," Edmund replied. "It looks like…"

"Like what?"

By now, Aramir was standing, too, staring intently in the direction of the great disturbance. "Enna, I think you should wake Peter."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it's Galma!" Edmund bellowed, leaping to his feet. "By the Lion—they're attacking us! Completely unprovoked!"

Enna needed no further encouragement. Nearly blind with panic, she fled into the tent and nearly fell upon Peter, shaking him violently. "Peter! Peter!"

"Wha? What's going on, Enna?" he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes and struggling to sit up.

"Galma is attacking the camp," she burst out, yanking his chain mail from its bag and tossing it into his lap.

"They're what?"

"They've descended upon us! Hurry and dress before they are here!"

Peter struggled with the covers and stumbled to his feet, clumsily pulling on his tunic and chain mail. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He, still blinking with sleep, buckled Rhindon on over his tabard and grappled with his boots. "Go and take Lucy—run! Get away from camp before the Galmanians find you. Do not think their covetous looks in your direction were lost on me!"

"I cannot find my bow and quiver," Enna protested, nearly tearing the tent apart in her distress.

"Forget them!" Peter took her wrists and began to push her towards the entrance.

Enna attempted to struggle, but he caught her around the waist and removed her bodily from the tent. "Go!"

Lucy met her, wide-eyed. "Oh, Peter, what shall we do?" she cried as he took up his shield.

"Run, Lucy."

Her face immediately relaxed. "Run? Never! I shall fight!" And she turned abruptly on her heel and ran to her tent.

"Lucy!" Enna cried. The sounds of battle were growing louder, and Peter increasingly agitated.

"Lucy can fend for herself," he bellowed. "I want you to flee, Enna! It is not she they want—it is you!"

As if on cue, a leather-clad warrior burst through the wall of a tent, the canvas ripping as he tore it with his broadsword. Peter unsheathed Rhindon and rushed towards him, their weapons clashing so savagely that sparks flew from the clanging blades.

Enna watched in dismay for only a moment before instinct took control of her feet and she began running blindly, tripping over abandoned satchels and shields. It was like a scene from a nightmare—her most dreaded enemy at her heels, stepping on them, breathing hot breath down her back.

But it was not her imagination. Suddenly, an iron arm clamped around her waist, squeezing so hard she cried out, and then the world tipped sideways and she was thrown barbarously over someone's shoulder, stars erupting in her vision. Enna snarled and kicked with all her might, but her head, swinging freely, lurched forward and smashed her nose against her captor's armor-plated back. Her eyes welled with sudden tears just as blood began to drip from one nostril.

So this is how it felt to be kidnapped.