The death of the queen hit Narnia hard and left it bruised all over. Everyone: north, south, east, west, Lone Islands, even Archenland-separate country though it was-mourned.

It had happened so suddenly; the beautiful queen and her son, Prince Rilian of Narnia, had gone on a picnic in a small pine-wood just a bit north of Cair Paravel, taking some of their favourite youthful courtiers with them. Later, King Caspian, freed from a dreadfully dull meeting over a political argument that had needed to be settled between a talking hedgehog and a talking rabbit at along last, rode out after them to join in.

It was winter; but the snow that had fallen over the west-side of the country hadn't gotten close to them yet. The air might have been a bit nippy, but that was all right because the queen had a wide selection of warm, velvet cloaks and capes, and had chosen her prettiest navy blue one with a glittering sapphire clasp.

When the day faded into twilight, the queen settled herself down on a cozy checkered blanket and made herself quite comfortable under the cloak. King Caspian, seeing his beloved wife falling asleep, had simply smiled his adoring smile at her, lifted her head up just an inch or so, and placed a silken pillow under her head, leaving her with a light kiss on the nose.

"Father," called Rilian from a distance, "the courtiers are going to see if we can go wild fox hunting, do you want to join us or will you sit with mother for the evening?"

King Caspian went to tell the court it was too late in the day for fox-hunting-most of Rilian's favourite noblemen and knights were a mite too young and boisterous to realize this-and that if they tried it at such an hour they could end up shooting the wrong sort of animal, a talking creature.

When he had gotten it through their skulls that, both as king of Narnia and as Rilian's father, he strictly forbade them to go hunting in the rum lighting, they bowed their heads, apologized whole-heartedly, and found something else to amuse themselves with.

Then the scream had come. By the time they reached the queen, it was too late. Caspian took one look down at his wife's face and knew that no physician in all of the world would do her any good; she was fading away too quickly, her face pale as a sheet. On one hand, the teeth marks of a serpent were visible; the venom had been seeping into her blood. All around those horrid marks were pitiful shades of brown against her white skin. The poor woman, unawares though she had been caught, was not stupid. The queen had been trying to suck the poison out of herself, but with no favorable results.

"Caspian," she croaked, her lips trembling as they formed their last word.

Her husband was holding her and she could feel his tears falling randomly all over her neck and face and on the bridge of her nose. Slowly she was going numb, losing her ability to feel even that. She wanted to say more than his name; she wanted to say she loved him; she wanted to say goodbye to their son, too. But that was not to be.

If it wasn't for the news of the queen's death, Edmund and Lucy would have passed a completely peaceful winter; as it was, the world was too somber for that. Even Lady Susan Philippe wore a black frock for a proper month of mourning. Shops closed and noblemen removed their hats in spite of the cold, hanging their bare heads. Count Pevensie gave up speaking for a week. Edmund's father forfeited his pipe for the mourning period. Peter was to give a speech, seeing as he had been one of the last few knights ever personally knighted by King Caspian's late consort.

More than that, Peter's presence was required for the funeral itself at the court of Cair Paravel and provisions started to be made for him to travel east. He would have offered to take Lucy with him, since she was so keen on seeing the court, but under the circumstances, and the fact that there was no way he could-at such sort notice-bring both Lucy and Edmund, not wanting to separate them since they hadn't seen each other in so long, he decided against it. She could come some other time; Edmund, too.

When Peter mounted his horse to leave, kissing his little sister who stood plucking sadly at her dagger-necklace, her eyes teary, goodbye on the forehead, Susan came out to meet him.

"Goodbye, Sir Peter."

"Goodbye, Lady Susan."

"Will you stay away very long?" she asked, feeling her face growing hot with embarrassment.

"No, I shall return after the funeral." he bent down and kissed Susan-this time on the lips, since at that moment no one seemed to be watching except for Lucy-and in a lower voice added, "Besides, I've given little Lu my word-what would I say if I broke it?"

"See that you keep it, then." Susan said coyly, blinking at him with her eyelashes fluttering demurely.

"Edmund, I expect you wont have Lucy running around in the cold without her cloak?" he said, raising a pretend-stern brow at the boy who either was already his squire or else was going to be very shortly, depending on how you looked at it.

"No, sir!" It seemed that, while it had left Lucy lonely for a few years, his time in Archenland had made Edmund a slightly more likeable person to others.

Lucy always thought it just brought out all the things she had seen in him long before then-back when he'd given her that peppermint, even when he was mean most of the time. But, at any rate, she had no objections to Peter and Edmund being friends, as they appeared to have bonded over the fact that they both cared deeply for her.

So Peter rode out and attended the funeral of the queen at Cair Paravel. It was a long session of beating drums, lowered flags, whispered sobs, quiet tears, and pale blue flower petals being dropped upon her corpse.

After the main ceremonies were complete, Caspian announced that there had been an old tradition, believed to have been started in the Lone Islands-though there wasn't anyone alive then who knew for sure-in which a king, after losing a crowned wife (royal wives who have not had their coronations and are still considered official queens are something of a rarity in most countries, often including Narnia), rode from the east capitol of his kingdom to the far west, and then back again. This was done on horseback, and selected knights were to ride with him. He selected Peter to be one of these knights, but exempted him from riding back afterwards because of his having family in the western woods anyway.

Cries of, "Aslan bless the king!" echoed after Caspian and his knights as their horses thundered away, starting on the long journey. It was not at all a pleasant, or even remotely exciting trip, for Caspian's mood was glum-as was to be expected-and nothing of consequence happened; the riders stopped only to pee in the bushes, eat something, or else to sleep for the night. Thankfully, they didn't often have to sleep out in the wilderness; because subjects were more than willing to extend hospitality.

When they reached the Lantern Waste, Caspian was weary-both of the riding and of the constant company-so he asked them to go on without him for a little while.

"My good Sirs," said Caspian, alighting from his horse and glancing up at the famous Narnian Lamppost for which the upcoming village was named, "please go on through the village on your own, I will follow in a bit. Sir Peter will lead you-he knows these woods."

Peter nodded; he looked so grand in uniform as he motioned for the others to obey the king and follow him that Lucy herself might have almost had a hard time recognizing him if they had met up just then.

"Lion have mercy on us," Caspian muttered, speaking either to himself or to his horse, shaking his head sadly. He gave his horse a gentle pat on the neck and looked around; it was nearly the middle of springtime now. And yet, to him, a widower, it still felt more like winter.

There was the sound of panted laughter from not far off; and Caspian glanced each way, sure that there must be a dryad roaming about those parts, watching him and giggling. He had no fear of such things, not since he was their king. Kings weren't supposed to fear their subjects, and if he ever had been frightened of them, he wasn't anymore.

Then there was a gasp from behind the lamppost. Ah, so it wasn't a dryad! He could see her; it was a little girl, perhaps a dozen years old.

It was, in fact, if anyone is uncertain, Lucy Pevensie. She had come to the lamppost to meet Edmund, but not finding him there, was shocked to discover an older gentleman at the post with his beautiful horse, glancing about for her curiously.

Lucy could tell within a couple of minutes that he was of noble birth, probably from Cair Paravel itself. He was a Telmarine-Narnian, and while the story of how men of Telmarine ethnicity became a strong part of the royal bloodline is very long-and some parts of it are very dull because most people who tell it leave all the interesting bits out-all that needs to be known is that a good deal of nobles in Narnia in those days had the blood of Telmar in them. What she didn't know was that he was King Caspian; she took him for a duke or a count because of his seeming to pass through without attendants. She hadn't seen her brother arrive and the message that the royal procession was passing through on that day had never reached their village for some reason or other.

Suddenly shy of the stranger, Lucy stationed herself behind the tall iron pole of the lamppost, waiting for him to leave. While she waited, she took him in. The Telmarine-Narnian lord was clearly older than he looked, but he didn't have any gray in his shoulder-length dark hair. There were traces of darkened stubble, though not quite a full beard. He was a little taller than Peter; yet the slumping manner in which the solemn man conducted himself didn't make this fact very apparent at first.

It must be admitted that Lucy's feelings towards the stranger were not all fear, much of it was fascination.

Seeing the little face peering out at him, Caspian said, his accent very thick, "Hey there! Are you hiding from me?"

"No," said Lucy, peeking out and then pulling her head back again.

For the first time since his wife had died, he felt the urge to laugh and a small clearing chuckle tickled his throat as he walked closer to the pole, the little girl's eyes widening with surprise.

"What are you doing behind there?" he asked, almost laughing again, feeling rather amused.

"I was waiting for someone." Lucy told him truthfully. If she had known he was king, she would have curtsied. "I didn't expect anyone else to turn up here."

"Where do you come from?" he asked, seeming more friendly than alarming so that Lucy felt herself calming down.

"From the village," explained Lucy, pointing behind her.

"I see." said Caspian, nodding.

"I like your horse," Lucy told him, glancing shyly over at the pretty, dark brown animal the Telmarine-Narnian had ridden in on.

He smiled at her, put two of his fingers in his mouth, and whistled, beckoning the horse to trot over to them. "His name is Destrier. He is getting a bit old, but he has always served me well; when I ride him, I know I am in good hands."

"Or hooves!" Lucy joked, giggling as the horse nudged her arm with his nose. "Hallo, Destrier..." She started to stroke the horse's smooth face, planting a small kiss on his muzzle.

Caspian took a carrot out of his doublet pocket and handed it to her. "Here, give him this."

Lucy held it out to the eager-for-a-snack horse, but she did so the wrong way, with her fingers pointing up.

"Not like that," Caspian corrected her, reaching out and forcing her fingers open. "Destrier's a good fellow, but he will nip if you try to feed him like that."

"Sorry," Lucy blushed at her mistake, making sure to hold her palm flat as she offered the carrot to the horse again.

"That's all right," sighed Caspian. "My son used to do the same thing when he was a little younger than you. He was quite the little risk-taker...shocking that he still has all his limbs, never mind his fingers."

Lucy's glance became curious again, looking away from Destrier. "You have a son? Do you have any daughters?"

Caspian shook his head. "No, though to be honest, a nice, quiet daughter who could sit still for a half-second might have been a welcome change of pace from time to time."

She finished feeding the horse his carrot.

"Do you want to ride him?" Caspian offered, noticing the yearning look in her eyes as she stared dreamily at the horse.

"I don't know how to ride...my brother is going to teach me when he comes home; he's away now."

"It's easy," he assured her. "Look, why don't you just ride him to that tree over there-" he paused and pointed to the tree he had in mind, "-and then back to the lamppost?"

It was too tempting to turn down, Lucy simply had to give in and allow Caspian to help her up onto the horse's back.

"Riding Tip;" he warned her, taking note of how she wobbled just the littlest bit in the saddle, "always grip with your legs and thighs, pull them in tightly-that is what's going to keep you on his back, not the reins."

"But then what are the reins for?" asked Lucy, feeling a little confused at this bit of information.

"Normally, to direct the horse, but you're just going to go in a straight line and then turn around back this way." Caspian explained with the patience only a man of age who has had at least one child can manage. "When you want to turn, just pull on the left side."

"Doesn't it hurt his lips?" Lucy wanted to know, leaning over to look nervously down at the bridle in the horse's mouth.

"No, he is very strong." He said. "Trust me, it wont hurt him."

"So...um...how do I make him...uh...you know...go?"

Caspian made a faint clicking noise and Destrier-being well trained-started going straight.

A squeal of delight escaped from Lucy. Whenever she had thought about riding, she had imagined all the fun it would be, but it was even better than she'd dreamed. She already loved the feel of the horse under her and was slowly starting to gain a natural seat in the saddle, using Caspian's advice to hold on with her legs, that hadn't been there before Destrier started moving.

When she had made it back to the lamppost, Caspian saw how brightly her eyes were still shinning and made up some nonsense about horses being uncomfortable going back and forth only once, saying that she simply had to do so just a couple of times more-for Destrier's own good.

It barely took that to convince her. "If I must," Lucy grinned and imitated the clicking sound Caspian had made to let the horse know it was time to move.

Then, when she'd had her fill of short rides, Caspian helped her down and took his horse back in hand. They shook hands, firm friends now, and said goodbye and best of luck to the other, not even realizing that they had both forgotten to introduce themselves. Perhaps this was excusable; for Caspian thought everyone knew him already, being the king; and Lucy was dazzled by Destrier and entranced by his kindly owner. So forgetting themselves wasn't entirely their own fault.

A few minutes after Caspian left, Edmund showed up looking apologetic, and a little bit cross as well.

"Father and Susan made me study from the dictionary for two hours, that's why I'm late." He announced sullenly, kicking lightly at a little pebble on the ground. "Stepmother finally thinks I can do no wrong, since I've gotten educated in Archenland, and now I've got the other two on my bloody case all the time!"

Lucy listened as she always did, but close friends always notice when the other is distracted, and Edmund asked, "I say, what's up, Lu?"

"Nothing much," said Lucy, shrugging her shoulders. "There was a man here before you came who let me ride his horse-he was very nice, I liked him."

Twisting his face into a very proper expression that Lucy sort of hated because it made him seem as though he was pretending to be much older than her, when really everybody knew it was only two years difference, he said, "You shouldn't talk to people you don't know."

"Well, I know him now." Lucy retorted jokingly.

"Ha ha, very funny..." Edmund said, rolling his eyes. "Come on, let's go, I thought we were going to go fishing in the brook."

"Do we still have time?"

"Some," Edmund told her, grabbing onto her wrist and tugging her along. "We'd better get a move on before it gets too late."

"You've got the rods?"

"Already at the stone wall, do come on already!" He tugged on her wrist again.

"Let's go," Lucy agreed, trotting along by his side and letting him prattle on about his bossy family for a while, trying her best to seem interested.

AN: Please leave a review.