Hello and happy 2022 to everyone! So sorry this has taken me months to pick back up but I *have* been working on this, honest! Extra long chapter this time, and the next is well underway also. Reviews and comments are very appreciated!

Chapter 17: A Return Home

The morning after Avarro's party, Lucy awoke early.

Well, she thought, glancing at her ill-rested face in the mirror, "awoke" wasn't quite the right term. She'd hardly slept a wink after the tumult outside her door in the early hours of the morning.

She'd never felt less than safe indoors before, and it was an unwelcome feeling.

Indeed, she'd only unbarred the door when she was certain it was Willa, and not anyone else, outside.

Willa looked like she hadn't slept well either, and they seemed to mutually agree that the earlier they set out for Narnia and home, the better. Between the two of them, they had all of their things packed up, Lucy's makeup in place, and the room set to rights in a very short time.

Willa told Lucy she'd already eaten with the early-rising servants, and that she'd arrange for their escort and all to be ready to go. Lucy took the hint and went in search of her own breakfast, hoping it wouldn't be some long drawn-out affair.

Surely they wouldn't put the servants to a lot of trouble after the tremendous effort they'd put in yesterday?

Indeed, when she entered the hall, she found Lord Joncas sitting alone at a small table in a nook, looking over some papers as he ate. He smiled as she approached.

"Ah, an early riser, I see," he said warmly.

"Not usually," Lucy admitted. "But 'tis a long ride home."

"It is. And how have you enjoyed your stay? Help yourself to food, if you like."

"Blanchston is a very nice place," Lucy prevaricated. "I thank you very much for thy hospitality these past days."

"You are ever welcome. Did you enjoy the party?"

"It was a novel experience," Lucy replied carefully, looking over the food.

Certainly she couldn't tell him how uneasy and unsettled the party had made her feel. And that Gavril fellow had made her stomach twist, not to mention whoever had been trying to get into her room in the small hours of the morning… No, she couldn't tell him any of this. It wasn't like anyone had done anything to her, or deliberately set out to make her uneasy.

So all she said was, "'Tis always good to try new things. And of course it was good to see Avarro again."

"Of course," he said, and then paused. "May I speak freely?"

She nodded.

"You're such a good influence on Avarro," he sighed. "I don't know how you do it. I'm not much good as a guardian, I'm afraid. A worse parent."

"I'm sure thou dost your best." Lucy said, helping herself to some food on the sideboard, wondering where this conversation was going.

"I could do better, I'm sure." Lord Joncas said, as she sat and began to eat. "Avarro was much improved after his time in Narnia, but Narnia seems to have… worn off, of late. Or perhaps I spend too much time at the Court instead of here." He shrugged moodily. "Well, it isn't your problem."

"No," Lucy said, "But I can offer a suggestion."

"Hm?"

"Give him something to do," Lucy said earnestly. "He's turned 18 now; most young men would be apprenticed, or working at a trade. Surely there's something suits him?"

Joncas gave her a thoughtful look. "I have been managing his parents' little bit of land for him," he said. "But perhaps you're right, and it's past time he learned the duties of being a landowner." He gave her a sardonic smile. "I'm afraid Telmar's contentious Court has made me suspicious and jealous of my power; well past time he should share in the responsibilities of rank, as well as its privileges."

"What does he do, when not…" Lucy waved her hand, "having parties and the like?" Avarro had never really answered her in any of her letters.

Lord Joncas snorted. "Not terribly much, I'm sorry to say. He spends much time with his friends down in the towns doing who knows what. Well, he hasn't got himself into too much trouble, that I've heard." He sighed. "His father–my brother-in-law–was much the same way. Just never seemed to catch on to the idea of the pleasure of an honest day's work."

"Well, I'm sure thou shalt help Avarro find his way," Lucy sad warmly, and rose. "Do tell him good-bye for me, won't you? I shalt leave momently, as we must be on our way, but I know he found his bed later than I."

"You're already packed up?" Joncas said in surprise.

"It truly is a long way," Lucy explained apologetically.

"Well then, let me at least walk you out." Duke Joncas rose hastily, brushing crumbs off his fingers. "I'm sorry we didn't get to spend more time together. You seem a most interesting young lady, Q—Miss Lily."

"You're very kind to say so," she smiled back up at him. "Some time when you're coming through Narnia you'll have to pay a visit."

"I look forward to the opportunity," he said warmly, and walked her out. He stood at the heavy gates to the keep until they rode out of sight.

Lucy felt herself torn, riding away from the looming bulk of Blanchston Manor. On the one hand, she really didn't feel she'd done much to fix things between herself and Avarro. On the other hand…

She recalled the sudden banging at her door the night previous, and the unrestrained, indulgent behavior of Avarro's guests at the party. She shuddered. There had been some sort of undercurrent to the whole thing that she didn't like at all, though she couldn't say just what it was that made her so uneasy. It was, all in all, good to be going home. This had been a rather discomfiting weekend, all told.

The thought of 'going home' spurred a memory. A promise made. What was it?

Ah!

After they'd safely passed the bandit-ridden areas (fortunately, still clear) and entered some of the forested north of Narnia, Lucy dropped back to pace her horse alongside Willa's patient pony.

"So, which direction ought we go to let you make that visit home to thy family?" She asked, without preamble, and enjoyed the surprised look on the Dryad's face.

"Oh, but milady, surely we can't take the time–" She started to say, but Lucy could tell it was a weak protest.

"Of course we can, and we shall! We departed Telmar a good several hours early, so there's plenty of time. Which way do we go?" Lucy gave her an expectant look.

After a moment, a slow smile spread across the other woman's face. "The grove is this way," she said, and kneed her pony toward the front.

Lucy let out a tiny squeal of happiness, and turned her horse to follow.

The young captain and requisite guardsman exchanged looks. This was more excited and happy than they'd seen the youngest Queen in months; despite her having just come from a party, she'd been a bit distracted this morning. (And at least they'd have something positive to tell Orieus about this otherwise dull week end. They knew the moment they got back, he'd demand a full report on how the Queen's time away was. The general been most annoyed he was too well-known to accompany her on this anonymous trip.)

It didn't take too long to make it to Willa's family's grove. Lucy found the visit with the Dryads a unique experience. She was startled at how many of them seemed to know her on sight.

After the fourth Dryad did a double-take at Lucy, and hastily bowed, instead of welcoming Willa, Lucy promptly propelled Willa to the forefront. "We came by particularly so she couldst have a visit!" Lucy assured everyone. "I shan't mind being ignored in the least!"

Everyone relaxed at that, and while they surely didn't ignore Lucy, they did drop most of the formality Lucy could tell they'd been dredging up with an unexpected Queen in their midst.

In a short while, Lucy found herself in conversation with a quite older Elm, whose human shape was an older woman gracefully bent and grayed with age.

"How did nearly everyone know me?" Lucy asked her. "I'm nothing much special. And I've certainly never travelled here before."

"Trees talk," the older lady said. "When we are in our Trees, we can converse across miles. So Narnia isn't always as big as it seems. For a Tree, Cair Paravel isn't so very far, especially when the wind is favorable. And," she smiled, eyes creasing like bark, "some of the Trees are downright gossipy."

"Oh," Lucy said. "Then why wouldst thou ever come out of your Trees? If it's not rude to ask," she added hastily. "It just seems that switching to your human-form would then necessitate slower walking pace to talk and travel, and all."

"Ah. There are two problems; one, it is hard to move your Tree when you are well-rooted and older, and one can only go so far from an established Tree. The other problem is," and the Elm chuckled now, "Tree-Talk is slow. A single sentence may take a week." She winked. "So our human-shaped forms are much better for some things."

"But again," Lucy circled back, puzzled. "I've never defeated any Giants or Weres or the other dangers in this area; why should Trees up here in the wilds of Narnia care to know who I am? Besides that I am one of the Four, I mean."

"Ah, that is because you are who you are. The High King is Narnia's strong arm; the Queen Susan is its peacemaker; King Edmund is her justice; but you, Queen Lucy, you are ours."

Lucy gave her a baffled look.

"Among the Humans, when discussing Narnia's Queens, you know it is Queen Susan who is most talked of, for the things the Humans value most. Among the feyer of your subjects, it is Queen Lucy who is the more beloved."

"I'm quite sorry," Lucy said apologetically. "I don't follow thee."

"Your royal siblings are loved–greatly–but they are very… Human-focused, betimes." The Elm said. "Not deliberately; and it is understandable. We Dryads also find our priorities changing, when in human-shape for a long while."

"I can see how that would happen," Lucy said. "Like when I had to explain to the Possums why their Bluejay friends found their underground homes terrifying to visit and a home visit was not a kind thing to ask of them."

A smile. "You see? You have always tried to meet your nonHuman subjects where they are, and we wilder folk do love you for it."

Lucy felt a blush rising. "I'm really nothing special."
"We know you think that." The elm said. "But we know better." And she laughed at Lucy's deepened color.

But after a moment, Lucy felt herself laughing as well. Being beloved for simply caring? Nothing to blush over there at all!

Lucy reflected later, on the resumed journey toward home, that the Dryad's words had been warming, yes; even comforting.

But they didn't help with what she was beginning to realize was more or less a perpetual feeling of… she didn't know what to call it. A sort of restlessness.

Peter was the defender of the realm. Susan was the peacemaker. Edmund was the justiciar. Things they did. Ways in which they contributed.

But Lucy? "You are loved by many" told her what others did, but didn't give Lucy a clue as to what she ought to be doing.

She wondered wistfully if Aslan, just for once, could give her a clear sign… and shook her head. He wouldn't, certainly not for something as mundane as this; she had to be free to decide things for herself, just like anyone else.

Curse it.

When they rode back into the Cair, they found it unexpectedly busy, despite the relatively late hour. The four of them paused at the open gate watching the unmistakable signs of a great deal of hasty preparation.

The captain and the guardsman exchanged concerned looks with Lucy and made to step forward, but she stopped them with an uplifted hand. "I think whatever 'tis happening, it's not martial in nature…" she said slowly, watching the people going to and fro. "Look, you. These are more like preparations for an unexpected, albeit important, visitor. Let's go put the horses up, so all of you may seek your beds after this long weekend. I thank each of thee for thy dutiful escort," she added sincerely. "But I suspect I, at least, am needed elsewhere."

"Yes, ma'am," the captain said gratefully. "I hope it's nothing dire."

"No; they'd have sent a messenger," Lucy said absently, frowning as a Dwarf marched past with a set of tools. Another Dwarf was hurrying to catch him up, holding one of the tiny hammers they used for fine metal-working, and Lucy intercepted him.

"Stay a moment, friend," she said. "What's all the fuss about?"

"How have you not heard?" He said, sounding irritated and hardly giving her a glance as he craned his neck to see where his fellow smith had gone. "The Tisroc decided to try and surprise us by sending some emissaries by ship, and–oh! Queen Lucy, I do beg your pardon. I did not realize it was you, honest."

"No pardon needed, ah—Grimblelock, isn't it?"

"It is, Queen Lucy. Thank you for remembering. Welcome back. I believe your royal siblings are in the High King's rooms, if you are wondering," he added.

She smiled. "I was just going to ask," she said. "Now, I won't keep you longer. Thank you," and in a moment he vanished inside the Cair.

When she got to Peter's rooms, she rapped softly at the door. "Come," Peter said, sounding distracted.

"Hello!" Lucy said brightly, "I'm back, and–"

"Lucy! Oh, sister! Welcome!" Abruptly, Lucy found herself engulfed in the sweeping folds fluttering at Susan's wrists as her older sister swept her into a hug. "You must tell me what a goose I'm being," Susan said. "I'm all in a state."

"I can see that, dear sister," Lucy laughed, and nudged her back toward the divan, and glanced around the room. Peter was standing at his desk, a paper in his hand. Edmund was nowhere to be seen.
"Oh, Su, sit, and breathe," Lucy coaxed her sister. "What's toward?" Susan obligingly sank gracefully into the cushions.

"Hello, Lu. What's toward," Peter answered, coming over and giving her a welcoming hug, "is that yesterday morning, a fisherman happened to see a Calormene pleasure-yacht heading this way. He recognized one of the Tisroc's advisors on it; and so the good fisherman asked the merpeople to send us word that we should be on the ready in case they should stop in at the Cair."

"He recognized a Calormene advisor from on board a ship?" Lucy asked incredulously.

"It's that fellow who favors dyeing his beard that bright green," Peter replied dryly. "I can't remember the fellow's name–Ed's gone to get his notes–but you must admit, that is a rather distinctive characteristic."

"I should say," Lucy agreed, and turned to Susan. "Now, what has you so overset, dear sister?"

"It's only–what if the Tisroc is intervening between Rabadash and I? How if this messenger, sent with no forewarning, is to tell me his Father has decided he must needs be betrothed elsewhere, or some other scheme?"

Lucy glanced at Peter, who rolled his eyes slightly at these wild notions.
"How if it is none of that," Lucy interjected. "and instead the Tisroc is testing us to see if we can host his envoys in a suitable fashion without forewarning? For surely Prince Rabadash's wife will need to be quick-witted and a gracious hostess under all circumstances."

Susan's expression eased slightly. "Do you think so?"

"More, what if this Calormene is here without the Tisroc's knowledge at all, and is merely paying us a surprise visit to see how we react? So then he may best advise the Tisroc as to whether we are a suitable house to ally his son and heir to?" Lucy theorized further. "Because you cannot have me believe that in the three days I was gone, there has been any official movement toward a betrothal."

"Indeed, there has not," Susan said, coloring. "And your words make sense. I am being a goose."

"Perhaps, but you are our goose," Lucy said cheerfully. "Look, why don't you go bathe your face and come back and we'll talk over all this?"

"Dear sister! What sense. I shall." Susan said, and kissed her, and hurried off to her suite.

"Phew, Lu, you'd come back just in time," Peter grinned. "I thought for sure she was going to go into hysterics. Do you really think one of the Tisroc's advisors is testing the waters here?"

Lucy snorted. "No. I think the Tisroc knows all about this visit, and wants to see how ready we are for unexpected occurrences. I'm not even sure it has anything to do with Susan and Rabadash, though I suppose we'll have to wait and see what the envoy has to say."

"I, too, misdoubt that this has anything to do with Rabadash, but you can't tell Susan that," Peter said.

"Well, people in love are given to assuming everything is about the one they love, even if that makes no sense," Lucy pointed out, and Peter paused.

"Love? You really think they're in love?"

"Of a certainly, she is in love with him." Lucy said. "But I couldn't possibly know how Prince Rabadash feels."

"How Prince Rabadash feels about—hey! Lu!" Edmund entered the room, handed a packet of papers off to Peter, and leaned to give her a hug. "Thou'rt welcome to see, Lucy. There's wine being brought. Where's Su gone?"

"Neatening herself up," Lucy said. "She was… overset."

"Ah."

"Erpha! That's the man's name!" Peter exclaimed, smacking the papers in his hand. "Thank the Lion for your note-taking, Ed."

"Erpha…" Edmund repeated, leaning back. "So far as I can remember, a middle-of-the-road chap. Nothing to look at in the way by enmity, but neither a bosom friend. Anything in the notes?"

Peter rifled through them briefly. "Nothing much on he."

"Here, let me see," Lucy said. "I don't think I have ever met him."

"You'd not forget his face in a hurry," Edmund said. "His beard is as green as spring grass."

"I believe you were away at Beaversdam the last time he was a member of a party of Calormenes," Peter confirmed. "I can't remember much about him, either."

Lucy read over the pages in Edmund's neat writing. It appeared to simply be his impressions and thoughts of the various people in the group during their last visit, and toward the bottom of the second page there was a line that said, "Erpha. Green beard. Middle age, good build, intelligent eyes. Does not speak much. Pleasant manner, mild."

"I wonder if it is only he who is coming here," Lucy said, looking at other notes about other people who had visited in the past. Some had things like devious manner; known liar; Tisroc's spy next to them. Beside one called Ordeshta, Ed had writ: very dangerous, in sooth. Another, Chlisdih, had: courtier; not very aware but good manners beside his name, and Khilemeb had the note: good, fair swordsman; excellent chess player.

"From what little message reached us, the yacht isn't large; there simply isn't room enough for many to be inside," Edmund informed her.

"Which is why I am not ordering any of our larger ships to come round the Cair," Peter added dryly.

"You are sure he must be coming here?"

"The point around the coast to the north is rough; where else could such a small vessel be going? It would capsize."

"A good point. So do we admit we know of this visit, or do we make out that we are all surprised?"

"What think you, Lucy?"

"Oh, be surprised, certainly," she said.

"Why? Isn't it better they should know we are not to be taken unawares?"

"If war was in the offing, certainly," Lucy opined. "But in peace? When the heir is wooing our sister? 'twould make us look suspicious indeed to be overly on our guard. Nay, let them instead be surprised at how graciously and quickly we can host an important guest even when–ahem–he arrives all unexpectedly."

Peter laughed at that. "I like it! Dazzle them with our graciousness."

"And," Edmund pointed out, a trifle darkly, "best not to remind them just what kinds of extraordinary means of knowledge we are privy to."

"There is that." Lucy agreed.

The wine arrived, and Susan soon after, and the four happily settled together on the couches.

"Oh, but Lu–you've still got your travelling clothes on!" Susan exclaimed. "Aren't you awfully uncomfortable? Shame to me, for causing such a ruckus and putting you out so."

"No shame!" Lucy assured her. "You know I tend to favor comfort over fashion in my dress. And we took a slow ride back today. I am well."

"How was Telmar?" Peter asked idly. "Did you and Avarro make friends again?"

He was surprised at the halting answer he got instead of the enthusiastic babble he was expecting; Lucy had been so excited before her trip.

"Telmar was… different," his sister said, quite carefully.

Her voice was odd, and across the room, Edmund looked at her sharply.

She was looking down at her hands, and a little light had gone out of her face. "One does encounter such different modes and habits in new places. They canst be a bit, oh, surprising, I suppose. And I'm afraid I did not make a good step toward repairing my friendship with Avarro. He was so busy, you see, with his party, and—. Well.

"Do you know, now I think on it, I think I will go and wash up," she said, a little abruptly, and left.

The other three looked at one another, concerned.

"What in the name of the Lion do you suppose happened? I was expecting her to be overfull of tales of those she'd met at the party." Peter said.

"She's positively closemouthed," Susan agreed. "Do you suppose she and Avarro have fought?"

"Wouldn't she just say so?" Edmund asked. "Perhaps she simply didn't enjoy herself, for whatever reason. Though usually she is happy to be pleased with even the meanest offering, if sincere it be."

"Or possibly she is just tired. It must have been a busy several days, two of them spent almost entirely in the saddle," Susan said, and added regretfully, "and here go I, the bare moment she's back putting the Cair all upside-down!"

"I'll inquire again tomorrow," Peter said. "And let us hope it is indeed mere fatigue, and not a further fracturing of her friendship with that young aggravation Avarro."

"Ay, it's the friendship's loss would pain her deeply," Edmund said. "Even if he doesn't deserve it."

"But would not be our Lucy if her loyalty did not run so deep," Susan smiled, and her brothers had to agree.

The next morning, Peter observed his sister keenly during arms practice, but she seemed to be back to her old self. Most likely, she had only been tired, and he was only imagining the slight sadness to her expression. He pushed himself through his workout, accepted General Orieus' corrections and praise, and hurried off to clean himself up before their 'surprise' Calormene visitor arrived. He was in such a hurry, and distracted thinking over the odd expression on Lucy's face, that he entirely forgot to look where he was going.

"Ah—oh, King Peter!"

Oh, Lion save him. It was Erma, bouncing toward him in an eye-wateringly pink dress. At least this one seemed to have been made with sufficient fabric. (Perhaps Susan had seen her in that other dress and had spoken to her.)

He fixed a pleasant expression on his face, and turned. "Hello, Miss Erma," he said pleasantly. "I hope you're well, but I must–"

"Helloo, King Peter," Erma cooed at him, coming closer. Her voice, as always when she spoke to Peter, was high and breathy and fluttering. "You are such a busy and important man. Don't you ever take time out for yourself?"

As she made her curtsy, she made sure her bosom was the most prominent thing about her. How she managed the effect, Peter didn't know, but he didn't much appreciate it, given he wasn't inclined to–er–look. He wondered when she'd finally run out of energy in her pursuit of him.

Erma was by far the most persistent (and most oblivious) of the women who threw themselves at him, and he wished he could just say something rude to her to get his disinterest across.

Of course, he couldn't really, but he wished he could be rude all the same.

"Certainly I do," he said, continuing to walk down the hallway with a purposeful stride. "When time dost permit. But as you say, I am busy. In fact, I–"

"Surely not too busy to spend a little time with a lady?" She clutched at his arm, trying to thread her own through it to pull him close to her, but he stepped back, shaking her hand off.

Oh, how he wished he could point out her behavior was hardly that of a lady. "I must admit, my time is ever shorter than I'd like it to be, and much in demand," he said. "I have no time for idle conversation right now."

"Who said I wanted to talk?" Erma said archly. "There are so many better ways to spend time together, you know." She leaned toward him invitingly.

He was saved from coming up with an answer to this extraordinary speech by his youngest sister's appearance at the end of the hall.

She was still in her exercise clothes, roughly dressed, her hair bound under a cap. Even in his peripheral vision, he could tell she was tired, but he saw her head jerk upright as she took in the pair.

Peter realized he was physically leaning away from Erma, and for every inch he leant back, she seemed to tip forward a hair further.

Much more of this and—

But then Lucy caught up to them.

At first, Erma didn't recognize her, and barely gave her a glance when Lucy's cool voice said, "Have a care, Erma, shalt fall if thou lean'st much further. Art thou feeling well?"

"Who are–" Erma began, outraged, and then her expression turned chagrined as Lucy pulled off her cap to let her locks fall. "My apologies, Your Majesty, I did not see you."

"I know you didn't." Lucy said crisply. "Thou'rt unbalanced, and inattentive; clearly you really are unwell," she suggested, her voice becoming over-sweet. "How if you go spend the day in your room until thou art feeling better? I shall be sure to have trays sent to you for your meals. I suggest you go now while you can still walk. Poor thing."

Lucy didn't wait for an answer to her thinly-veiled orders, but turned to Peter. "Brother, I have need of thy counsel, and miss Erma must seek her chamber alone. Shall we go?"

"With a will, Queen Lucy," Peter said gratefully, and they made their escape, leaving Erma standing outraged behind them.

They made it into Peter's office without encountering any of the other silly ladies who flocked around him, and Lucy stifled a laugh as he took his chair. "How do you find them?" she asked her brother, who sighed and dropped his head in his hands.

"I don't know, but I wish I'd stop finding them," he complained. "What did thou need?"

"I? Oh. Nothing. 'Twas merely an excuse to get thee away." She moved toward the door.

"No, no. Sit," he said, waving at a chair. "Tell me about your week end away. We haven't had a chance to catch up. We have a few moments."

What could she tell him about the week end? She'd hardly seen Avarro; he'd been off his head much of the time; his party guests had made her uncomfortable; and then someone had tried to go to the wrong room–hers–in the middle of the night, probably because they'd had too much to drink.

There really wasn't much good to say, and Peter didn't want to hear about any of that, she was sure.

"It was all right." She said. "Blanchston Manor is quite an imposing place–" and she described the keep pretty minutely.

"It doesn't sound like a very exciting place for someone like Avarro to be," Peter said. "Was there much to do?"

"There are some pleasant working gardens," Lucy said. "And I'm sure there are the usual dicing and card game kinds of amusements, though because of Avarro's party they weren't in evidence. Lord Joncas says Avarro spends many of his evenings down in the towns in the valleys with some friends."

"Did his friends attend the party?"

"I'm sure they did, but I didn't really meet many people."

"You didn't… but you always meet people!"

"The party was such that… introductions to strangers were not convenient," Lucy said.

Peter frowned at this. "It doesn't sound like a very welcoming event."

"Oh, you know, it was rather crowded and with everyone masked, I'm sure it was just that everyone assumed they knew all the other people there. Nearly everyone," she said, remembering the strange man who'd spoken to her. She shuddered slightly. "Really 'twas just as well. It was a bit more loud and raucous than I was expecting, and things were perhaps a little wild," she admitted. "So I slipped out and went to bed a little early."

"That's not very like thee," Peter said, but seeing her expression slide further into discomfort, he dropped it for now. "I am glad you were able to at least attend for thy friend Avarro's sake, anyway. Did he like the pen you chose for him?"

"He seemed to," Lucy said, and then grimaced. "However, he at first took it as a hint that I thought him a poor correspondent, and I'm afraid I did snap at him a little."

"And why should you not?" Peter asked, a little indignantly. "All know the response to a gift is 'thank you,' not 'what do you mean by this?'"

"He did apologize nicely."

"I'd imagine he gets a lot of practice," Peter muttered. Lucy pretended not to hear. "How did thy Lily disguise hold up?"

"Very well," Lucy said, brightening. "Even Lord Joncas and Avarro had to look twice. One person did realize I wasn't from Telmar, but it was because of the quality of the cloth I was wearing, not anything about me specifically."

"It doesn't signify," Peter said. "Everyone knew Avarro was having 'a friend from Narnia' to his party. Any other news?"

"I had the opportunity to speak with Lord Joncas before I left. He says he will give Avarro more direct control of the governance of his family lands. He is in hope it will settle Avarro somewhat."

"Responsibility would be good for him," Peter said. "So long as he takes it seriously. Think you he will?"

"Maybe," Lucy said. "Joncas did say we Narnians are a good influence over Avarro. Perhaps this summer he may come for a visit...?" she half-asked, eyeing her brother. She knew none of the other Pevensies much cared for Avarro.

He gave her a sideways look. "If he was insulting and discourteous to thee when you gave him a gift, why on Earth would thou want him to come visit, Lu?" And then he shook his head. He knew the answer already. "Never mind. It's Ed, isn't it?"

"If Edmund could come back from the Witch's spell and be a goodly person, so should Avarro be able to." Lucy confirmed. "He is no where near so bad as Ed was."

Lucy, who perhaps had suffered the most from Ed's ill behaviors and all the rest, should know. But still– "You don't know what he is like when not around thee," Peter said, and was surprised to see a frown flash across Lucy's face. "Do you?"

"I got, perhaps… a glimpse, this week end." Lucy admitted. "He seems given overmuch to dissipation when in company, but was much his old self when I was with him. Truly, it may be that his companions draw him to less than wise pastimes, and I hope bringing him back here may remind him of how he learned to be when he was last at the Cair."

"Is Lord Joncas concerned about his, what did you call it? Dissipation?" Peter kept his tone light so as to not betray the concern her words woke in him.

But Lucy shook her head definitively. "Not at all. The worst he said about Avarro was that he that is, Avarro, took after his own father in… well, laziness, I suppose. But he also said Avarro hadn't got into any real trouble that he'd heard of. Joncas was more concerned about his own hand in it, which is when he thought to place the responsibility of lands on Avarro's shoulders." She glanced at Peter. "I'd like to have him to visit so he can be reminded of what he can be. I do want him to succeed."

"Responsibility should be good for him," Peter replied. "I shall think over your request. I do want him to do well, sister," he assured Lucy. "But how often does a man need to be reminded of his own goodness before he starts living up to it on his own?" He shook his head at her expression. "Little lioness, you cannot make someone be good. They must choose it."

"I know, I know," Lucy grumbled. "Everyone has their own story."

"And I don't want your story to be that you spent your life reminding Avarro to be a good person. You're meant for bigger things than only that."

Lucy looked a little pensive at that, but said, "Speaking of bigger things, we'd both better go get ready for the 'surprise' Calormene visit, hadn't we?"

"So we should," Peter agreed, and they went their separate ways.

Peter's way took him to Edmund's suite, where his brother was looking over some papers. "I spoke to Lu," he said, after tapping at the open door.

"Was she in a better humor today?"

"Yes and no. I do not think she much enjoyed herself at Blanchston Manor, but…" the High King sighed. "She asked that Avarro be permitted to return here."

"Permanently?" Edmund asked, looking up.

"No, just for a visit at some point in the year. She feels the influence of Narnia may be beneficent to him."

"But will it be beneficent to her?"

"There's the rub," Peter admitted. "She says little of Avarro's current state, but what she does say concerns me. She said his gathering was… what was the word she used. Ah yes, 'dissipated,' and while she says his lord uncle seemed unconcerned, I do wonder what the boy gets up to when not under his uncle's eye. And I wonder if we shall want to invite him back to our Court."

"But in fairness," Edmund started, and Peter had to smile–this was exactly why he'd brought this to his brother; Edmund was good at setting aside his own views to examine a situation. "In fairness," Edmund said, "did not we observe how those several months spent at the Cair did prove to have a marked change on him? Small wonder that leaving our sphere of influence shouldst also cause old habits to surface anew."

"That is a very good point. Well, I'll think on her request. Didst thou ever uncover what caused his hasty exit from Telmar?" Peter asked curiously.

"No," Edmund frowned slightly. "It had the feel of some affair hushed up to prevent a scandal, but I never could get any details."

"Scandal!" Peter snorted. "What was he, fourteen? fifteen? when he was ousted? Like as not it was some way to strike at his uncle's standing in Court; what possible scandal could a fifteen year old rightly cause?"

"As the Queen's brother, it would be difficult to assail Lord Joncas' position of trust," Edmund agreed. "A wayward nephew in his charge is like to be the only means of sowing mistrust in Joncas' decisions."

"I am mortal glad, brother," Peter sighed, "that the Court at fair Cair Paravel does not lend itself to half so many intrigues as those at Telmar's Court."

"Indeed." Edmund had to agree.

"Now I must away and prepare for this visit from Erpha," Peter sighed. "Do let me know if you uncover anything more about him."

"Certainly," Edmund said, but Peter was already gone.

Erpha came and made his visit for a few days and left; his excuse was that he'd had some trouble with his yacht suddenly, and lo! It happened that this trouble arose nearly in the mouth of the Narnian harbor. How fortuitous that when trouble arose that it be so near to shore.

And could not the Narnians, known to be generous and welcoming folk, possibly help this lone Calormene who was suffering such sudden and unexpected turnabouts in his fortunes?

(What the trouble with the yacht could be was anyone's guess, since on the day of his arrival, the sea was nearly as flat as a millpond. They'd offered to have the chief shipwright have a look, but Erpha had gone pale at the idea: the chief shipwright was a Satyr, and to the Calormene, this meant he must be the worst kind of demon. While Erpha didn't say this was the reason he refused the help (and he certainly did not admit to his fear), he nevertheless claimed all his crew would need was some minimal supplies and berthing space to perform their repairs.)

To nobody's surprise, he'd requested to spend time with Queen Susan the most often; and she, accustomed to serving as hostess, accommodated him as often as she was able.

Lucy asked her what they could possibly have to talk so much about, and was not really surprised at her sister's response.

"Oh, we speak of Prince Rabadash, and the wonders of the Calormene Court, and all manner of things," Susan had said, starry-eyed, and then launched into a monologue recounting every detail of the Prince she'd gleaned from their green-bearded visitor.

The day after Erpha finally left, Lucy arrived at her morning training session and found Orieus waiting for her, looking foreboding in the drizzling rain. The practice yard, usually a smooth sandy surface, was a mire of mud and sand. As she laced on her practice armor, he said, "My Queen, several days ago you asked me how to defend against someone coming up on you all unawares."

"I did." She said evenly.

"Why did you ask me such? Has something happened?"

She heard the real concern in his voice and felt a pang. Even here, at the Cair, she'd woken several times with the memory of thudding at her door wakening her from her sleep. Once, the dream/memory had been so vibrant she'd actually gone to the door to be sure no one was there, rather startling the guard in the hall.

"My Queen?"

She couldn't tell Orieus someone had tried to get into her room while she was in Telmar–he'd take it all far too seriously, and not at all as the escapade of a partygoer who'd had far too much to drink and had mistaken where their room was.

"Nothing happened, exactly," she said. "Just… something in Telmar made me ponder how one might be taken unawares, and that I ought to know what to do."

"Hmm." The Centaur eyed her narrowly. "If Lord Rorin were still here, we'd have a handy solution–" Lucy ignored the slight twinge his name still brought her "–but as it is, we may have a skirmish ahead of us this morning."

"A skirmish? What do you mean. General?"

"I wish you to work through fighting against both of your royal brothers this morning, and I doubt they will be cooperative."

Her brothers? She frowned. "Is this something to do with that vision of your cousin's?"

"Not a vision. Nothing so clear, alas," Orieus said, and stamped a hoof fretfully, clots of mud splashing up. "But she wrote to tell me to not let down my guard; that the stars still warn of danger to Narnia's Queens, and that preparations would not be amiss."

"But no danger to Narnia's Kings?"

"No more danger than the usual, I suppose. The stars do not warn of commonplaces." Orieus acknowledged her wry tone. "Star-reading is not in my talents, and my cousin is wise in their ways, so I tend to heed her when she provides warning. Especially as it relates to the security of the realm and its rulers."

Lucy accepted this with a nod. "So why do you expect a skirmish this morning?"

"Your brothers tend to hold well back when I ask them to raise a hand against thee, even in training. While the impulse is understandable, this is not conducive to your building strength and skill. Most armies are filled with strong young men, and they are the most likely kind of fighter you would face. King Peter and King Edmund are both skilled fighters, so I wish to see how long you might be able to stand against them. I also wish to teach you what to do against multiple opponents coming at you at once."

"I understand the problem. What is it you'd like me to do?"

"When I say the word, attack fiercely, as though indeed your life depended on it. You may use anything to hand, except a live steel weapon."

"Whom shall I attack?"

"Whichever of your brothers you judge an easier target."

"Very well." Lucy was surprised to find herself a little excited. Her regular training and practice was certainly helpful, and she could tell she was building strength, but it was a little boring at times to run through the same runs, weapons drills, riding lessons, and all the rest. Since Rorin had gone, her days had become even more predictable, so the change had her alert and ready.

As General Orieus had predicted, both of her brothers objected to this idea.

Peter's face went over all stern at the idea of Lucy going into battle. Edmund quickly said, "But surely, General, Lucy will always be sure to be rearmost in the van. When ever would she be facing enemies directly?"

A glance at Orieus' face showed that his temper was fraying at their reluctance. "My Kings, my responsibility, when not leading your armies into battle, is to best prepare the Monarchs–all of them–against what dangers they may face. Your royal sister roves the widest across fair Narnia, and could at any time come into uncertain circumstances. Not all people in Narnia's borders are loyal to the Crown. And the only way to guard against the unexpected attack is to train."

Peter scoffed. "Come now, who would attack–"

"Go," Orieus told Lucy, and she launched herself at Peter's knees, aiming to knock him over. Her attempt was successful, and Peter went over with an 'oof' of surprise, his practice armor clashing as he hit the muddy ground. She snatched up the wooden practice sword that had bounced out of his hand, and turned toward Edmund. She didn't turn quite fast enough to fully block his wooden knife's sweep, but she was quick enough to deflect the strike, at least. But his strike was halfhearted, and he stepped back, reluctance on his face. She heard Peter clambering to his feet behind her.

Edmund glanced over at his brother. His chest was wide open, and she flickered a glance at the impassive Orieus. Well, if Ed was going to give her such an invitation…

With a wobbly heave, she thudded Peter's practice sword solidly into Edmund's ribs, and he issued a weird grunt of pain and surprise. "Ow!"

"King Edmund, consider thyself well wounded," Orieus rumbled. "Thou'rt now without use of your left side."

Lucy turned to find Peter eyeing her.

"All right, I take your point, now–"

With an effort, Lucy swung the sword at him–not a terribly finessed stroke, to be sure, but it got him to hop back. He skidded slightly in the slick mud. She got the sword up into a guard position, and backed away enough she could see both her brothers. Edmund was buckling his left arm beneath his belt to bind it fast, and Peter was frowning at Orieus.

And not paying attention again. Did he think she was so unfit for this work?

Anger rose in her. She'd make him understand that this was needful. She was no war-lover, but by Aslan, she'd not be some wilting flower in need of protection at every turn! If the utter worst happened, she wanted to be able to defend herself to the very end if it came to it.

The tip of the sword thudded into the top of Peter's foot, and he exclaimed. She had used some strength in the blow. "Ah! Lucy!"

"High King Peter, you are now without use of your left foot," Orieus intoned, sounding… smug? "Pray lift it off the ground and do not place it down."

Peter turned toward the centaur. "Orieus, this has gone–"

Lucy shoved the borrowed sword into the gap in Peter's chain coif, above his gambeson: a kill strike right into his throat. Peter stopped talking.

"Stand down, my Queen," Orieus said, and there was a definite rumble of laughter in his voice. "I am hopeful your brothers have seen our point."

"Ugh. May I put this sword down, then?" Lucy asked plaintively. "Peter, this thing is heavy. Is Rhindon so weighty?"

"You may."

Heaving a sigh of relief, she set the sword down into the mud and sand and rubbed her arms ruefully.

"I'm impressed you could lift it," Edmund admitted. "Our practice swords are weighted to build strength."

"Rhindon, thank Aslan, is not near so heavy," Peter said absently. "But do you really want to learn swordfighting, Lucy?"

"No," Lucy said, and she saw his face change in confusion. "I want to learn anything I need to know to keep Narnia and myself safe. Orieus is a masterful teacher, but he cannot be two people at once. And if something happens where Tawi is not nearby, and my life is threatened…" She shivered. "Unlikely though you think it may be, I want to learn how it feels to fight against men. I know I will never be as strong as most men are, nor is it terribly likely I shall see the thick of battle. But if it should happen…"

"Lucy, I will do the fighting. You don't need to learn this," Peter said earnestly.

She knew, she knew he meant that he wished to keep her from having to fight, but practicality should still win out here. Just because he did not wish that she should have to fight didn't mean she'd never have to.

"And if another set of circumstances should arise where I am the only Pevensie at the Cair? Last summer, I was the only ruler here for nearly two months. You and Ed were already fighting in the North. Susan was in Archenland. What should I do if something threatens then? Ask them to come back when my brothers are here?"

"Oh, come now, Lu–" Edmund broke in at that.

"No, she is right," Peter said, surprising Lucy. "And from an outsider's perspective, that instance–where Lucy is the last Pevensie at the Cair–might even make it more likely to invite attack." He mused, surprising Lucy. "No matter we know you're capable of ruling on your own," he said. "But I can see that from outsiders' views, Narnia would seem far more vulnerable with only the youngest here."

"So… you agree?" Lucy said tentatively. "You'll help me train to fight?"

"I don't like it," he said. "But I suppose we must."

"Now that that's settled," Edmund said. "May I bind up my ribs? I think you've bruised them well, sister."

Ed bandaged his ribs, and Peter checked on his foot (already swelling in his boot), and Lucy fetched her much lighter practice weapons. Then all three lay themselves at Orieus' mercy and he started running them through the wringer.

Lucy's thrill at besting her brothers was short-lived; of course she'd taken them wholly by surprise, so after the fifth or sixth time one of her brothers 'killed' her, she became resigned to it. But at least they were truly using their hard-won skills against her, which could only help her learn.

Susan, of course, was horrified at them when they dragged themselves back into the Cair. "What! Have you been brawling?" She exclaimed, seeing their dirty, bruised state.

"Not exactly," Lucy said, with some difficulty (Ed had smacked her in the face accidentally, and her lip had started to swell). "New training with Orieus."

"In what? Mud-wrestling?" and they looked at one another and laughed. All three of them were utterly covered in a mixture of sand and mud, and in Edmund's case, a liberal scattering of hay, as well.

Lucy peered down the hallway at the clear muddy track of their passage and ducked sheepishly. "And, Su, we'll be sure to clean up the mess we've left."

"I should think so!" Susan said indignantly and swept out.

The other three exchanged glances. "Indeed. Let's get cleaned up so we can get to cleaning up," Peter said, and strode off toward the baths.

"Right after you," Edmund said, leaving Lucy to head to her rooms on her own.

She'd rather have a standing bath in her room instead of waiting for the bathing-room to be free of her brothers.

And after she was clean, perhaps she'd take a moment to write Rorin and see how he was getting on. She hadn't thought of him in a long while before Orieus had mentioned him this morning, but the mention of his name had brought only a small twinge. Surely she was getting over him by now, and could write him as any friend might. Surely she could do that much.

More soon! Reviews and comments appreciated. And again: Apologies for the insane delay in posting.