Moments in Time

Disclaimer: Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

II: An Encounter of a Sort

or

"Do you ever wish you had a second chance to meet someone again for the first time?"

It was absolute chaos in the Kader household. The house, originally a pottery barn, was full of life. The positive energy was stifling and warred with the whirlwind of sadness Hermione felt. She felt terribly ungrateful for wishing that she was with the Weasleys instead of this motley bunch. Every time a laugh unwittingly spilled past her lips or her eyes crinkled with amusement, guilt bloomed in the pit of her stomach abruptly cutting off her joy. If the Kader's had noticed her distant manner, they had been too polite to bring it up.

The happiness had been so suffocating that Hermione requested a trip out to the market that she had heard about. Ever the gentlemen, all the Kader men had offered to accompany her, much to Sally's amusement. In the end, they settled for Derrick, the third eldest, to escort her. She hadn't put up much of a protest. By that point she was almost desperate to get away. She knew it was appalling of her to think so selfishly when these people had shown her nothing but kindness.

She was surprised, pleasantly or unpleasantly, she couldn't say, but stunned nonetheless when they walked through a town where magical creatures cohabited peacefully with muggles.

"What's wrong?" Derrick asked her, noticing her shift in composure.

"That - that's a talking mouse!" She exclaimed.

Derrick followed her gaze.

"Hello, Sir Reepicheep," he called out.

"Good day Soldier," the mouse, wearing a hat with a red feather billowing in the wind and a tiny little sword (that could not have been longer than a needle) around it's waist, bowed - bowed - before it scampered away.

Hermione felt a bit lightheaded. Goblins, centaurs, half-giants and hippogriffs she could handle; but talking mice was a bit too much. She briefly wondered if these animals were an advanced evolution like Aragog had been. Hadn't Harry and Ron mentioned Hagrid's talking acromentula back in their second year? The memory was a bit hazy in her mind.

You don't have any problems with the Old Narnians, do you?" Derrick asked her, and his tone cautionary as he noted her obvious discomfort.

"N-no," she stammered, "I'm just surprised."

She watched as a small goblin-like creature huffily moved through the crows, clearly having a rough morning. She winced as the dwarf appeared to trip over thin air, the small bout of misfortune adding to the agitation the creature was already feeling.

"What are you staring at girl? Never seen a dwarf before?" One of the dwarfs on the street sneered as he caught her gaze.

Hermione flushed and turned away.

"Are there many ... magical creatures in Narnia?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't ever call them creatures to their faces. They'll take great offense to it," Derrick hurriedly informed, as he looked around them to make sure that no one had overheard.

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling abashed.

"They prefer to be known as the Old Narnians," Derrick continued as they resumed their slow walk into the market.

"How so?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, long before the Telmarines invaded the land, Narnia belonged completely to -" Derrick once again looked around to check that no one was listening "- the magical beings," he whispered dramatically. "The only humans who lived on the land were the Kings and Queens of Old."

"And how long ago was this invasion?" Hermione asked intelligently, observing the multitude of buildings erected on the once virgin land.

Derrick sent her an appraising look, "about a thousand years ago."

Hermione absorbed the information that was being supplied. She gasped and then smiled as a school of children, magical and muggle alike ran past them, captivated in their little game of tag.

"Well, it can't have been too much of an invasion if everyone is living so peacefully together," Hermione noted, her hand traveling over one of the necklaces displayed on a table.

Derrick looked at her with bewilderment at first and then shook his head as though dispelling a thought.

"The Old Narnians only recently claimed back their rights to the land they owned, the war was quite the talk of all the lands, news traveled as far as The Seven Isles! What with the return of the Kings and Queens of Old was nothing short of a miracle. I'm must say I'm surprised you didn't know," he commented with a frown.

Hermione's eyes flashed, "w-well-" she stammered, "where I was, news, erm, wasn't easily available..." she commented diplomatically. There, it was neither a lie nor a stretch of the truth.

"I apologize," Derrick winced.

Derrick, like his brothers, had the same brown hair and hazel eyes that appeared to be a dominating genetic trait. He also had an affable personality, he, like his family, manifested an air of genuineness that made Hermione feel like a heel for taking advantage of their generosity and returning it with deceit. With a sharp clench of her stomach, Hermione turned away, walking over to the table that sold the most exquisite looking silk. Her hand ran over the softest material she had ever touched, with a soft smile, she let the green material slip through her fingers. Then, suddenly, her mind clicked onto something, she swiveled on her feet and pointed a finger at Derrick with accusation in her eyes.

"Wait, you said that the Kings and Queens of Old returned! How is that possible? They would have to be 1000 years old!" She exclaimed.

The busy days is Narnia quickly turned over into restless nights and soon it turned into two-and-a-half weeks since Hermione arrived in Narnia. Though she was no stranger to a magical land - having spent the better part of her pubescence in a magical castle, introduced to a whole magical community of all things. Narnia, however, was not what she had expected.

Regardless of what the pureblood population had to say of her; despite her muddy blood, Hermione was through and through a witch.

As such, magic flowed in her veins.

She was elementally and genetically formed of magic.

So, it had surprised her, when her skin tingled as though it was electrically charged as a result of a reaction to the pungent magic that filled the air of Narnia. It was as though she was breathing in magic, like she and the land were both the same sides of a magnet and her blood sung harmoniously. Her magical core burst with newfound strength like never before.

But she had no outlet for it.

It was frustrating, to have a building reserve of energy and power and not being able to release it. She felt like a coil, being wound up tighter and tighter with every breath she took and she knew that if she didn't solve her current situation soon, then there may be casualties as a direct cause of a bout of accidental magic breaking loose from its tight confines.

She had lost her wand, and her hand quivered at the thought of not being able to find it again. She decided - after giving it microscopic thought - that she would take Sally in search for it.

Salliah Kader was a beautiful young girl of seventeen. Her tresses of silky auburn hair were fit neatly into a stunning chignon. Hermione had watched with awe as the girl braided her hair with practiced speed and precision that morning whereas she had opted for a simple ponytail. Sally's deep-set emerald eyes gazed at you like a puppy dog, no doubt it was a look that she often took advantage of - being the youngest in a family of males. The girl had a pixie-like nose that dropped daintily down from its peak and her Cupid's bow red lips surrounded her small mouth with perfect alabaster teeth - Hermione's parents would have been proud of a set of teeth such as those. She even dimpled under her high cheekbones as she smiled. She stood an inch shorter to Hermione's 5'6" frame and her voluptuous figure that poured into a nice hourglass made Hermione envious as she compared it to her nonexistent hips. Needless to say, Sally oozed class and beauty, and Hermione felt so plain in comparison - although, this was something that Hermione was long used to. She had been far from the most alluring at Hogwarts.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" Sally called out to her as she trudged through the fallen leaves and twigs on the moss-covered soil.

Narnia was breathtakingly beautiful and Hermione sensed that the magic was what kept it so stunning.

"I just feel like I had some belongings with me," replied Hermione, as she carefully hiked over a ditch. Her still-sore ankle throbbed as she landed on it awkwardly, she had forgotten how painstakingly long the muggle healing process was.

She didn't need to look at her companion to know that she was annoyed. Sally was adamantly convinced that she had not forgotten any small detail. Of course - Sally was not aware that Hermione was in search of a magical wand.

"You know, I think my brothers are besotted with you," the girl piped up, turning to look at Hermione with a playful smile on her face whilst she balanced atop a log.

"Watch your step!" Hermione warned with a frown, before quickly adding, "whatever do you mean?"

"Oh Hermione, would you like us to bring some game to cook for dinner? Oh, Hermione, don't worry about the housework, take a seat and rest that injury of yours. Oh, Hermione, don't worry, I'll ask the castle to see if they have any work available," Sally sniggered, hand over her forehead as she embellished her brothers' acts over the past few days. "Mind you; their attitude is going to do a complete one-eighty when they realize that you went and got yourself a job as a barmaid."

Hermione flushed. Now that she thought about it, the Kader brothers had been quite attentive with her, but she had chalked it off to the sort of attention she used to receive from Ron's brothers, nothing more than platonic. "I'm sure they're just trying to be nice."

Sally snorted disbelievingly.

"The day I see that is the day I see Aslan," she commented offhandedly.

"Aslan?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"Good Golly! You really have been living under a rock!" Sally spoke without thinking and then grimaced immediately with regret.

Hermione had been on the receiving end of that infuriatingly, apologetic look from the Kader family quite often recently. At first, Hermione had been ignorant and, therefore, confused to their reaction to things that they said before realization belatedly hit her. She didn't know how long she would be able to keep the web of lies she'd unknowingly spun.

"Sorry," whispered Sally.

Hermione shrugged noncommittally, guilt burning a hole and forming a permanent home in her heart.

"This is it!" Sally cried with relief - whether it was to the change of subject or a halt to their half-hour-long trek, Hermione could not decipher.

"I told you that I left nothing behind," she added, as she swiveled around, looking over the empty soil. But Hermione was already on all fours, her eyes frantically scanning the soil, fumbling haphazardly through fallen twigs looking for that once special piece of wood.

"Hermione! Your dress is going to get muddy!" Sally exclaimed with dismay, her eyes grew wide with horror as the brown mud stains grew larger on Hermione's pastel dress. It had been one of her fondest old dresses. Despite growing up with six older brothers, unlike Ginny, Sally had not grown a tomboy. She was very much, a girly-girl.

"Is it something valuable?" Sally sighed with defeat laden in her voice, as she stood beside Hermione. She looked down at her own dress, wondering if it was worth the sacrifice.

Hermione nodded, blinking furiously as tears flooded her eyes. Panic hit her tenfold. Who knew if she had walked through Narnia before collapsing? She didn't even remember how she received a sprain to her ankle. What if she'd lost her wand along the way? What if her wand didn't even travel with her to Narnia? Had she left it back at Hogwarts?

Sally sighed pitifully at her, her hand briefly touching her shoulder, as she too now crouched down on the filthy mud.

"Come on then," the younger girl whispered, "tell me what I'm supposed to be searching for."

"A stick." She carefully left out the 'magical' part. Had Hermione not been so distressed, she would have laughed outright at the incredulous look on Sally's face. "… It was a gift. You'll know if you see it, it's not like any other," she added for good measure.

Brushing away her tears, Hermione fell into a silent search and seconds later, she, through her peripheral vision, saw Sally join her. A warmth feeling grew in her heart for the younger girl.

Hermione wasn't sure how long they'd been searching for her wand but by the time Sally exclaimed that she'd found something worth taking a look at; she was feeling the agonizing sting of pins-and-needles in her legs. She groaned as the blood rushed back to her dead feet, but she hobbled over to Sally as fast as she could to examine the crafted piece of wood in her hand.

"Is this it?" Sally asked her eyes shining with delight while she admired the delicate craftsmanship.

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of her carefully packed beaded bag, but the wand …

Hermione squinted at the white wood and hesitantly reached for it. For a brief moment, she hoped that it was just the trick of the sunlight that cast a white glow to the wood, but she was wrong. Her heart sank as her hand closed over it, it wasn't her wand. She did not feel the usual hum of magic thrum through her as she held it, there was no connection. It was just an ordinary piece of stick - though a beautiful one at that.

"If I may be so bold, who gave this to you?" Sally asked her, obliviously.

Hermione did not have the heart to tell her that their search had all been for naught.

So, she lied.

"My parents." Was the strangled whisper that came out of her mouth.

"And are they…?" Sally trailed off, not sure how to finish her sentence.

Hermione's jaw trembled as the question hit home; she was well and truly alone. Without her wand, she couldn't apparate and it was far too dangerous to send an owl to Magical London. Who knew what was happening there.

"Well, my brothers will be pleased," Sally laughed awkwardly, attempting to alleviate Hermione's depression.

Hermione looked at her in astonishment, visibly offended.

"No!" Sally exclaimed, eyes wide with denial. "I mean … you're just easy to please! My brothers would have no trouble in wooing you with their pathetic attempts at being romantic."

Incredulous was not close to describing the disbelieving look on Hermione's face. Sally smiled, pleased with herself, as the brunette slowly dissolved into irrepressible laughter.

"What in the mane…?", was all that Peter could voice when Hermione and Sally walked through the door.

The man gawked as he took in the appearance of the girls. Immediately, a protective look formed on his face. That was something to admire in the dark-haired man; he had a definitive need to protect his siblings.

Peter, like his brothers, was a lean but brawny young man. He too had perfect teeth, and when he smiled, Hermione found herself a little bit breathless (though she would never admit it out loud). Peter had crows'-feet that framed the corners of his hazel eyes - that peered at you through thick lashes - as he had a tendency to smile through his eyes. Peter also fondly sported a beard; something Hermione came to realize was his pride and joy.

"Were you attacked?" he asked stepping closer to them, pulling Sally aside to see if she was injured in any form.

Sally scoffed.

"Of course not!" She argued, tugging her arm away from her brother; there was a rebellious streak in her. Something, Hermione imagined, that had formed after years of being the youngest sibling in a house full of men. "We've just been in the woods." Hermione knew that particular sentence had been on purpose as Peter's stormy expression formed a smirk on Sally's face. Hermione clutched onto her bag just a little bit tighter.

"What were you doing in the woods at this time of hour?" Oliver (the second oldest) questioned, as he walked into the room with a bowl of treats in his hand.

His dangerously sharp looking sword hung lazily by his side. He was by no means any less attractive than Peter; his hair was unkempt and fell over his hazel eyes, attracting the viewer to his chiseled features. In fact, none of Sally's brothers were repelling. Suddenly reminded of their earlier conversation, Hermione reddened when Oliver winked at her. She didn't, however, suppress an eye-roll in response and smiled when the older man grinned at her.

"It was my fault." Hermione stepped in, focusing back to the conversation on hand where voices had grown loud. The bickering siblings looked in her direction. "I wanted to go back to where Sally found me to see if any of my belongings had been left nearby," she explained glibly.

Silence ensued. No one knew what the say in response to that. Oliver coughed uncomfortably in the background.

"And did you?" Peter asked the frostiness in his voice seeping away as he regarded her with a sympathetic expression. The hard glint in his eyes softened.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Sally beat her to it, "Yes of course we did. We're not incompetent." Peter hardened his gaze again.

"Now if you'll excuse us, Hermione and I are going to change out of these soiled garments. She does, after all, start her shift at The Greyhound Inn tonight." The smirk on Sally's face was vicious.

Hermione glowered at the girl, whilst still allowing herself to be pulled away from Peter and Oliver as they exclaimed unhappily in the background.

"That was unnecessary," Hermione commented as they closed their room door.

Sally shrugged her shoulders unapologetically. "The look on their faces was worth it."

Hermione attempted to keep the frown on her face deep-set, but she couldn't help the twitch of her lips as the remembered the dumbfounded look that Peter and Oliver had sported.

"Now, let's get you something to wear," Sally announced as she skipped through the curtain of beads that served as the door to her wardrobe. "Nothing too low cut, wouldn't want to give the wrong idea to the drunkards; but you don't want anything too conservative either, you won't get any tips!"

"I would be most comfortable in a pair of trousers and a blouse if I was being honest with you." Hermione disclosed, as she carefully rearranged her soiled dress so she could sit down on the ottoman by the dressing table.

There was a pause in the conversation as Sally walked back out looking appalled.

"You want to dress like a man?" she asked.

"Don't be so archaic. A woman can dress however she wishes, no man should ever have a say in what she wears." Hermione spoke with a fierce expression.

Sally looked mildly impressed with Hermione, a newfound respect forming in her eyes. However, when she leered at Hermione with a frightening, feral grin; Hermione knew that she had awoken a monster.

"There's hope for you yet."

If anyone had said that there was hope for him at this current moment in time, Edmund Pevensie would have slugged them ... and then run his sword through them for good measure.

The black-haired Just King winced as he shrank away from another prick from a pin needle.

"Edmund Pevensie, for heaven's sake! Stop moving!" His older sister, Susan, reprimanded from the divan she was currently reclining on. Susan's ladies-in-waiting giggled at the youngest king.

Prudence, their Royal Housekeeper, stared at Edmund with disapproval when he sniffed with distaste.

Susan was unconvincingly pretending to read her notes on materials under the disguise of overseeing the fitting while in actual fact; she was there to eye up Caspian. Who was she trying to fool, really?

Edmund growled under his breath and refrained from rolling his eyes as the seamstress apologized for stabbing him, yet again. Honestly, this service was appalling in comparison to the mice dressmakers who Edmund was much more comfortable with. Surely piercing several hundred holes into your monarch's body is counted as treason? Perhaps he could suggest it at the next council meeting.

"Susan, is there really a need for yet another ball?" Peter complained; his arms positioned out by his sides for sleeve and shoulder measurements.

Edmund swore that the young seamstress attending to his brother was leisurely taking her time and taking this opportunity to grope him, under the pretext of taking 'accurate' measurements. Though, he didn't think that his brother minded the attention all that much.

Peter, for once, was not supporting Susan's ludicrous whims of throwing a ball every other eve. Or perhaps, now that Caspian was about to fill the shoes of being at Susan's beck-and-call, Peter no longer felt that it was his job to please Susan's every fancy. Edmund suspected that it was the latter as he took in Caspian's unflinching face as a needle stuck to his bicep. Edmund looked back at Peter, who was starting to become as disgruntled.

"This isn't just any ball Peter!" Edmund cast a betrayed look as Lucy piped up from the corner - and here he'd been under the impression that she hated balls as much as her brothers! "It's Susan's and Caspian's Engagement Ball! No ball has been as special as this!" The youngest giggled, twirling happily on the spot.

Edmund regarded her with open disgust at her tittering.

Luckily, or perhaps, unfortunately, a knock on the door saved Lucy from receiving the scathing choice words that were on the tip of his tongue.

"Traitor." He hissed at her as she floated past.

The brat stuck her tongue out at him, the nerve!

Great Aslan, did he not ever want Lucy to find a suitor. If this was how she reacted to Susan's betrothal; then Aslan save him from the day she gets engaged. He may as well dig out his own grave now rather than suffer in silence later. He hung his head back in agony, why him?

"Oh, Eddie, Edward is here," Lucy called from the door.

"My saviour!" Edmund said out loud without thinking as the newly appointed Royal Porter bowed respectfully before his Kings and Queens.

Straightening, his friend regarded him with a raised eyebrow. Shrugging off the seamstress who was approaching him frighteningly with a pair of scissors, Edmund reached the door in four long strides.

"Tell me that you've finished your shift," he said to the man.

The shorter male nodded, suppressing his amusement in the presence of the other monarchs.

"I'll be off then," Edmund announced to his siblings and Caspian, "Edward and I have quite important business to discuss."

Edmund all but pushed his way out of Susan's solar. Edmund quietly acknowledged the guards by the doors as he dragged Edward away.

"Edmund!" They could hear Peter calling after them, his voice tinged with thinly veiled envy and exasperation. "Going to the tavern does not constitute as an important business!"

Edmund snickered and Edward hid his grin expertly.

"I'm telling you, one of these days I'm going to throw Susan off that Eastern cliff. I don't think the council will mind. In fact, they may even appreciate me for getting rid of the reason behind half the expenses in the castle." Edmund commented as he casually strolled in the direction of the inn with Edward closely behind him.

Edward snorted, "I think it may be seen as treason, Edmund, even if she is your sister." Formalities were dropped once they were away from watchful eyes. Whilst both men considered the other to be their closest friend, they were both heedful of social expectations when in a crowd. "One may even say that the council may view this as your advance in endeavouring to become the High King."

It was Edmund's turn to snort this time; "they would take that as an opportunity to put me behind bars wouldn't they?"

"Too right."

It was no secret that the councilmen resented Edmund for his intuition and knowledge as on most days, Edmund's astute proposals made the senior council members look like abecedarians who had no idea about what they were doing.

As they stepped into the local tavern, Edmund made eye contact with the barkeeper who immediately bowed before his king; Edmund courteously returned the gesture with a nod. Edmund and Edward were quite the regulars in this particular tavern. The young king appreciated the fact that most of the inhabitants were so inebriated that they rarely realised that their king was with them.

The barmaids were the only exception; their stares and curtsies would raise his hackles but after a couple of drinks, he would find himself not caring.

Taking a seat in the corner of the room, they waited for the maid to bring their usual order, Narnia's Fine Goblin-Made Mead.

"So, how's your sister's healer training going?" Edmund inquired politely.

"Well, I believe. Though Peter isn't too happy that she wants to support herself. What we earn is more than enough to cover her fancies, but she refuses."

"You cannot blame her," Edmund placated, "sitting idly in the palace is enough to do my head in and considering the size of Cair Paravel; I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like in a home significantly smaller with far fewer people."

"Thank you," Edward automatically thanked, as two goblets of mead were placed on the table.

He was glad for the interruption; he didn't quite have the same views as Edmund when regarding Sally. Edmund was very pro-independence and Edward would rather it if his sister was safe and sound and at home.

Edmund followed the line of the bandaged hand in front of him to the barmaid who was serving them and frowned in confusion; it was not Edna.

He regarded at the new girl with a perplexed expression. His eyebrows bunched together in the middle, his lips set into a thin line as he took in her English rose complexion. It was unusual to see someone as pale, if not paler, as himself.

Her pallid skin had a natural flush to it; not the fake powdery blush that women appeared to favour these days, Susan would be envious. Her pink lips were slightly glossy and wet as if she had recently dampened them with her tongue. Her plain brown eyes, framed by thick lashes and perfectly arched thick brows were unfocused; only the bruising under her eyes marred her otherwise perfectly put-together appearance. Her caramel-honey-brown hair was pulled back in a sophisticated braided bun that looked severely out of place at the Greyhound.

In short, she was quite possibly the plainest woman, a far cry of the most beautiful he'd seen around Narnia in quite a while. But, there was an aura around her that was surprisingly magnetic; he felt a tug at the pit of his stomach and immediately knew that he wanted to know more. How was it possible that she'd slipped his sight for so long?

"Hermione?" Edmund snapped his head towards Edward, who'd spoken.

'He knew her?' Edmund's stomach churned unpleasantly with a feeling that he couldn't quite decipher.

Hermione, why did that name seem so familiar, yet so old? Edmund knew that he didn't know her; he'd be a fool to forget someone as strikingly bewitching as her. So from where had, he heard her name?

Said girl, snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Edward. The fire in his stomach grew wilder when she smiled sweetly at his friend. Edmund grabbed the goblet and took a large swig of his mead.

"What are you doing here?" Edward asked.

Another large swig of alcohol burned its way down Edmund's throat.

"Oh, they had an open position so I thought I'd take it temporarily until I found something better," she replied, her voice as sweet and polished as her appearance. His goblet rested against his lips; her voice was not what he had been expecting. It wasn't as high-pitched or worryingly baritone, like the rest of the barmaids who worked here and fawned over him. He wasn't sure why he had expected that. Perhaps he'd hoped that it would be a turn-off.

'A turn-off?' He repeated to himself in his head with a deep frown and a shake of his head, as though that motion would help clear his thoughts.

"And Peter let you?" Edward asked, his voice rising in pitch as he exclaimed his incredulity.

A devilish smirk and a glint of something quite wicked appeared in her eyes, it was an obvious outward display of insubordination which you rarely saw with the ladies in Narnia. It only made Edmund want to get to know her all the more. She began to move away from the table, and Edmund's eyes followed her, unable to tear his gaze away.

Apparently so had Edward, as his friend called out: "Are you wearing breeches?"

If it was, at all, possible, Edmund could have sworn that the smirk on her face grew wider, before she disappeared into the kitchens. Edmund's eyebrow kinked up with amusement. How curious.

"She didn't curtsey," Edmund commented offhandedly, frowning into his glass.

Edward panicked needlessly, "Oh you must forgive her, she's quite new to Narnia. I don't think she knows much about the monarchs."

Edmund lifted his gaze, not bothering to waste his time in correcting Edward about his views on propriety, but far more interested about Hermione.

"Whatever do you mean?" He asked, interestedly.

"Well," Edward hesitated; then made a show of leaning closer to him across the table. Edmund copied his motion, curiosity overwhelming him. "Sally found her injured in the woods."

Edmund raised an eyebrow, his impatience showing as Edward leaned even closer.

"Any closer and they'll think you're my escort," he responded with a sarcastic smile.

Edward shot him a withering glance but returned to his original position.

"Says she escaped from the slave trade," he whispered across the table.

It took Edmund a moment to repeat the sentence in his mead-addled mind in utter shock, before understanding why Edward had considered the information sensitive.

"Calormen?" Edmund growled; the slave trade was worsening across Narnia's neighbouring lands.

"We assume so. As you can imagine, she's reasonably guarded about the matter. Peter's willing to take her in as his charge. She is of age, but she has no family. In fact, Peter was going to get ahold of the paperwork to legalize her as a Narnian citizen this week. We weren't too sure if she'd be allowed to stay, though..." Edward mused, the mead loosening his tongue.

"Tell them to come by my solar tomorrow. I will personally certify her citizenship." Edmund wasn't sure what made him say it; perhaps it was the mead talking.

Leaning back, he drained the last of his drink and as he stared into his emptied glass, he pictured her glossy pink lips and mischievous brown eyes … 'definitely the mead,' he frowned with a taste of something bitter in his mouth.

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EDITED: 07/07/17

A.N/ This chapter is dedicated to Comic Critic, my first reviewer! Thank you so much for taking a moment to give me some feedback!

If anyone is wondering about the ages of all my characters:

KADERS
Peter -26
Oliver - 24
Derrick - 23
Henry - 21
Tobias - 21
Edward - 20
Salliah - 17

Hermione - 18

Peter - 24
Caspian - 24
Susan - 22
Edmund - 20
Lucy - 17

Your review is the fuel that charges my writing.