Author's Note: A certain someone has figured out who the girl in the previews is…

Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia. C. S. Lewis does. I am only borrowing his characters and places for the storyline.

Forward March!

….

Ginevra hastened out of bed, wincing at every sharp move. She stepped out onto the balcony, narrowing her eyes through the mist. Clad in only a bare nightgown, she shivered, clutching her nightgown closer. Morning had already settled towards the wet hills of the east and the surface of the sea had lit up faintly. Everything glowed, though it was soon obscured by the thick fog draping over the land like a grayish white blanket. Ginevra frowned, fingering her red locks. Something was clearly not right. But what? Her eyelids felt heavy from sleep and she slipped inside thinking it best not to let anyone catch her outside. Her chambers were dark form shadows of the night as the rays of the sun had not yet bestowed their light upon the room. It was eerie and quiet. The faintest sound of a bird's lament reached her ears falling as a silent melody along with the sound of hooves. Hooves? She rushed to her window, running her hand over the gathering fog to make a small hole, peering intently. The forms of two horse and riders appeared, dark and angular. She frowned again thinking fast. Ginevra slipped out of her nightgown pulling on a thigh length emerald green tunic and silvery camouflage pants with her riding boots. Glancing at the mirror she pulled her hair into a high pony.

'Not much for a queen….' She thought, biting her lip. 'But it will have to do.'

She pulled opened the door, flying down the stairs, her mind whizzing. Thinking best not to go through the main doors, she slipped out through the back door, carefully checking around her. The icy coldness of the weather bit deeply into her skin despite the warm clothing. She tried to see through the mist; an impossibility.

'My Lady Sanchez!'

She froze turning around towards the source of the sound. Her heart thumped wildly.

'Who is it?' she called, her voice a timid squeak. Then louder. 'Who goes there?'

The tired, old face of a castle guard appeared, his expression surprised.

'My Lady, what are you doing here at this time of the day?'

Ginevra looked back towards the strange, tall figures.

'Stay here!' she commanded. 'I shall speak to you presently.'

'But My Lady, You cannot possibly-'

She did not give him time to reply instead running quickly towards the spot where she had last seen them. She squinted. The figures were much clear now. Men. Tall, angular and slender. They rode nearer. Suddenly they were obscured. Perhaps her imagination? But no. It couldn't be. They seemed too real. Finding her voice she yelled out.

'Halt! This is private property! Who goes there?'

There was no answer. Ginevra squinted against the thick weather yet she could see no one.

'Halt!' she shouted loudly. 'Or I alert the guard!'

'Ginny.' Someone wheezed out. The familiarity of the voice made her step nearer.

'James? Lorien?' she called uncertainly, her ponytail swinging.

'At least….' At second voice said. 'You still remember us.'

James came into sight, his hair more windswept and messier than ever, his eyes blinking with the weight of sleep. Lorien was following him. He too was half asleep with exhaustion but he managed to ride smoothly without a pause or mistake. Ginevra could not hold back a pang of envy. She put her hands on her hips, glaring at the two riders.

'What are you doing here? Do you have any idea that this place is soon to be a war zone? Where is Lia? Why hasn't she come with you? I hope no accident took place. Why didn't you call me sooner? I-'

'Jeez.' Lorien grumbled cutting across her ranting. 'Stop acting like an old granny goat.'

Her glare deepened and he held up his hands in defeat.

'I'll let James do the talking.'

James sighed.

'We are here to support you in war as we are the princes of the land. Yes we have a good idea that this place is soon to be a war zone. Lia is with the Kings and Queens in Narnia. She did not come become we thought it best to ensure her safety. No, no accident took place, none what so ever.' He assured her, continuing. 'As for not calling you, well we figured you would never let us come. Done with the interrogation?'

Ginevra's jaw hung open in surprise and she looked unhappy.

'Not quite.'

Lorien sighed dramatically.

'Can you please get us some food? We are starving you know and we have traveled for three days and to top it all of we had to hear your lecture.'

Ginevra shrugged.

'Sure.'

Following the two riders she made her way to the castle, muttering angrily to herself. The cold clung to her and she clenched her fingers. The castle cook, alerted to the presences and the rather huge appetites of the two princes, rushed about making eggs and baking toasts. Ginevra walked to her husband's chambers to wake him up. She entered quickly thinking wryly to herself.

'Boys are without a doubt the essence of mess.'

She made a face at the papers and clothes strewn all over the place, stepping over upturned shoes and shaking Dane up.

'Dane, wake up!' She poked his arm and in response he swung his fist at her. She ducked quickly, taken by surprise.

'Dane! Cut it out!'

Fumbling with the water jar on the bed side table, she dropped all the contents on Dane's face. Spluttering and gasping he shot out of bed, looking for his sword. It was a god thing it was no where hear him or Ginevra would have been…well….. She retreated back careful of Dane's swift moves. Finally his bleary eyes focused upon her and she smirked.

'Good to see you are awake, sleeping beauty.'

Dane scowled.

'What?' he asked. Ginevra raised an eyebrow.

'Your brothers are here, Dane and it would be pleasant f you were not so rude.'

Dane winced at her stiff tone.

'Sorry.'

'Whatever.' She stalked out of the room, swinging her hair behind her. Dane shook his head. Ginevra sat down across from her brother-in-laws watching them disgustedly.

'Where are your manners?'

Lorien held up his head.

'What manners?' but it came out as: 'Wob mawnrs?'

Ginevra shook her head watching Lorien's antics closely, her face puckered into a deep frown.

'Disgusting.'

'I know.' Lorien flashing her a brilliant smile. 'Disgusting is my middle name.'

….

Peter bit his lip, fingering his sword obviously deep in thought. The afternoon sun rested lazily overhead casting hot glances at the scorching sand. The waves of the Eastern Sea splashed upon the beach in a furious battle with the sun to see whose affect would last further. The watching breeze danced through the land, whispering to the trees urging the limp flowers to look up, alert.

His face was fierce and focused as he went through a series of stances, his blade performing complicated maneuvers. His slender, well built body danced along with the breeze. His breathing become harsh and the sunlight shone through his fair hair; his eyes sparkled. His boots moved along with the sword in a difficult match with an imaginary enemy. The blade made whooshing sounds as if collided painfully with the wind. In a deadly arc he brought his sword down completing the sequence, face flushed, eyes sparkling. He stopped when he heard the sound of leaves rustling. He smirked to himself.

'You know I can hear you form there.'

'Of course.' Peter turned around meeting Isabella's emerald eyes. She was dressed in silver pants, a brown tunic and long boots, her hair pulled back into a messy pony. 'High King Peter, the Magnificent can do anything right?'

He scowled at her mocking tone. Who did this girl think she was anyways?

'I do not expect you to know anything.' He said stiffly. Isabella smiled widely.

'Glad to see that you notice something, Big Head.'

'Big Head? Where'd you get that?'

Isabella shrugged.

'How should I know?'

Peter did not reply, turning around jauntily. Silence intervened and no noise could be heard except the wind cheering on who knew what?

'Where are you from?'

The abrupt question took him by surprise. He looked at her, replying finally.

'London.'

'London?' she wrinkled her nose. 'Where is that? In Narnia?'

Peter laughed, sheathing his sword.

'No, My Lady. London is located in England.'

'England?'

Peter sighed.

'It's a country in Europe.' Catching her eye, he hastily replied. 'A continent.'

'Oh.' Isabella looked at him, curiously. 'Is it nice there?'

'Yes,' Peter replied, not knowing what to say. 'When there is no war going on there?'

'There's a war going on in your world?'

'Yes.'

'Oh.'

'How is it in Liriope?'

Isabella shrugged again.

'It's fun. Do you practice swordplay often?'

'Yes, whenever we get the time.' He looked at her warily. ' Do you know how to fight with a sword?'

Isabella grinned.

'I believe I am tons better than you.'

'Complete lie.' Peter turned his head away so that she would not know that he too was smiling.

'Let's see then shall we?'

He pulled out his blade lunging forward to be met by Isabella and her sword. Sparks flew and he moved back looking around for weaknesses. They circled each other, awaiting the other to strike first. Isabella, growing tired of waiting, twirled underneath striking his sword raised in defense. Peter forced her back, grinding his teeth. They moved around. One slashing, the other protecting. She was good. Somehow finding an opening in his defenses she lunged forward, the flat of her blade slamming into his ribs raising a spray of golden sand.

'A hit!' she said triumphantly. 'A palpable hit! Do you yield?'

'Barely palpable.' Peter growled, driving her back furiously, striking her blade. The sound of their colliding blade echoed wildly as their heated bodies steamed in the warm air. Finally Peter pivoted and struck Isabella's sword, a harsh blow that send her blade flying out of her hand. He came on grinning, backing Isabella towards the sea.

'So, My Lady, do you yiel-?' He yelped as Isabella punched his face. Reaching for her sword. 'Ouch!'

'No. I don't yield.'

Peter growled, touching his red cheek

'Was that absolutely necessary?'

Isabella smiled sweetly. Behind her shoulder he caught a glimpse of Edmund, running towards him. He was panting heavily, though whether from running or form fighting to control his laughter, Peter did not know.

'That was awesome!' Edmund complimented her, who smiled brightly. Turning to his brother, he let out a guffaw. 'You should have seen your face! I got beaten by a girl!'

Peter growled again, sending a threatening glare towards his younger brother.

'Not funny Ed!' He stalked away. 'Not funny at all.'

Isabella caught up with him, her hair flying around her shoulder, her cheeks flushed from heat. Peter ignored her.

'Will you keep making that face at me until I am here?' Isabella asked him raising an eyebrow.

'What face?' Peter asked in spite of himself. Isabella did not answer.

'Where did you learn sword fighting?' he asked finally, looking at her. Isabella grinned.

'With three elder brothers, you think I am supposed to be gentle and delicate and ladylike? No way!'

Peter fought back a smile, sitting down on the sand crossing his legs. He looked at Isabella expectantly.

'What do you do in your free time?'

'Oh, archery, painting and sword fighting.' She waved her hands

Peter raised his eyebrow.

'She does all that?' he thought to himself. 'That's a first.'

'You should come with us on our morning rides.'

'Oh, your sister already asked me to come.'

' Which one?'

'Queen Lucy.'

'Oh.' He stared at a distant watching the glistening sea. Isabella looked at him, indignantly.

'Hey, you stole my thing that I say!'

'What?' Peter asked her, clueless. Isabella rolled her eyes.

'Oh is my pet word.'

Peter looked at her as if she had dropped form another planet.

'She is completely different form the other ladies.' He scowled to himself. 'And very rude.'

Aloud he said.

'I think its time we should be getting back.'

Isabella shrugged, holding out a hand . Peter looked at it quizzically.

'Do you expect me to kiss it?'

Isabella's cheeks colored and she scowled.

'Oh you are such an annoying pervert!'

She stalked away, walking up towards the castle leaving Peter to stare after her.

What is it about her? Why is she so different?

His only answer was the laughing breeze and the singing sea.

…

Asha raised her head, focusing her bleary eyes and pained head. Her eyes were those of a hunted animal; hungry, dark and lean. Her thick lashes fluttered feebly, feeling heavy against her eyes. She glanced around her. Deserted strength rushed back to her slowly and shallowly. Moonlight flickered into the room through the large window. She gazed at it as of seeing it for the first time. She tried to stand up but fell against the wall panting. They had drained her of her energy. Yet she was recovering it. Though somewhat small. Gathering her bearings she walked unsteadily towards the widow, using the wall as a help. Her feet felt like lead, heavy weights upon her body.

Reaching the window she fingered the rusted clutch, trying to loosen it. Her fumbling fingers finally won, prying open the lock. Asha looked about, inhaling in the fresh breeze. How good it felt! She glanced down, observing the distance between the window and the mossy floor of the forest.

'Hm….' She thought wryly. 'Not much but still…..'

Carefully she hoisted herself up through the opening. Weight loss helped her and her chiseled features glowed in the moonlight. She put her foot down, forcing herself to move. Slowly she reached the ground, her feet finding the comforting red earth. She was breathing heavily by now, leaning against the wall. Flinging herself upright, she glanced around wary for guards. No one was in sight. Thank the stars!

She moved quickly and swiftly, her feet finding strength in the fact that she was free. Her joy did not last for long. The growling of angry creatures reached her ears. Her feet stilled.

'No….' she whispered. 'No….'

…

Another chapter done! Thank you for all the reviews! Keep them coming guys! I appreciate your comments….

A. L. Potter