Disclaimer:Forgot to include it in the last part, but as with everyone else(only retold in more accurate words) I do not get heaps of money from any of the Narnia franchise, books, movies, or little Peter action figures. My originality goes only as far as the unrecognizable characters, everything else is Lewis's by right and definition. Regretfully, he beat me by about fifty years.

Though admittedly, I'm not sure who to credit the movies to anymore, since you know, Disney's has given up on the rights to it. The fools.

On Our Final Night

By Halogirl3000

"Who are you?"

Peter's voice softly traveled the distance between himself and the mysterious stranger. It took only one simple gaze for him to realize how unique the woman was. A strange sense of wariness ran across his body, giving him no other option besides looking at her in a sense of wonder.

The woman truly looked magnificent. Her emerald eyes gleamed beneath thin, yet strong eyebrows, curved in such a way to emit a permanent air of certainty. Ivory tresses cascaded down her shoulders, ending in a loose tangle of strands that swayed with even the smallest of motions. Layered bangs were pushed aside, letting the full effect of her stare run rampant without hindrance. The suns rays dared caress the soft skin the woman possessed, its milky tone served to deepen her eyes, pushing them to the brink of their vividness. The light seemed to be absorbed within her, giving off a luminous glow across her cheeks that only emphasized her noble features even more. Strong and defiant cheekbones rounded out her face, making an incredible adaptation of a heart beneath her clear, jaded(in more ways then one) gaze.

A grin spread across her pale, blush colored lips. "You've already asked that. And the answer has not changed in the two minutes since then."

"Such insolence. I have given you my name, yet you still refuse to be the least bit helpful, in response." Peter replied, eyes narrowing slightly. None had dared to talk to him in such disrespect. At least not since the golden crown had been placed upon his head.

"A name alone gives few rights to consideration. No matter what that name may be." The woman answered back, her tone light and held the full knowledge of her boldness.

The two shared a pause in dialogue, each unaccustomed to being questioned. They stared each other down, searching gazes eyeing each other with a sense of examination in the air. Questions fleeted across their minds in a rush of curiosity, and perplexing inquiry. Whys? How's? And who's? being reflected in their eyes, seeking desperately for answers that would only come from the one who stared from across the way. The only problem was the stubbornness that held the answers back.

Edmund watched from beside his brother, noting the change in atmosphere instantly. He noticed his brothers growing curiosity, noticed the way Peter's brow lowered and scrunched in confusion. He saw the original purpose of finding this woman slip from the High Kings mind, replaced by the unfamiliar way this woman responded to him. It had been a few years since any had been so blatantly coarse with any of the Pevensie's before knowing them. Yes, the beavers often scolded and mothered the four in a similar fashion, but they were valued friends. The beavers had helped keep the Pevensie's safe upon their first adventure(no where near the last) in Narnia. They had the rights to be so open-lipped of the Pevensie's. This woman did not.

A blink of captured sunlight drew Edmunds attention away from his inner consultations. Warily, he let his eyes trail down her cloak, and scrutinized the strange appearance beneath. Her body was easily defined, even if the cloak had not been thrown over her shoulders, her form was too distinguishable to hide beneath the piece of cloth. Toned arms ran elegantly down her sides, creamy skin peaking out of the sleeveless, black turtle-neck like chemise she wore. A golden plate covered beneath her collarbone, carved with intricate designs whose meanings were lost to time centuries ago. Dark crimson cloth spread out from beneath that, wrapping its way down her frame to her knees where it was shortened on the sides, allowing her muscled legs to escape the confines of the fabric at mid thigh. A thick white sash was pulled across her thin waist, emphasizing the curve of her breasts, and arch of her hips. A single black cloth hung down from below the belt, etched with fine gold a symbol from a long forgotten age, yet time was not able to take away the pride that seemed to emanate from the ancient emblem. Red leather was strapped across her feet, running over the black stockings that ran up to just below her knees. The makeshift boots extended to mid shin, where they wound tightly by dark onyx leather strips that kept them from slipping. Golden arm bands wrapped around her forearms, delicately entwined with plates of silver on each arm. It encased a flow of the same red fabric that most of the outfit was made off, letting it open up and freely fall down her arms at the elbow. Black mitts were pulled across the limbs, escaping below the trails of crimson and ending on the back of her hand, were large orbs of an emerald mineral were winking in the sunlight. A circet layed across her forehead, holding a large emerald green orb similar to the others found on her body. A small, red teardrop lowered itself between her eyes from the diadem.

The sunlight that appeared seemed to have be brought forth by the strange array of instruments that noiselessly rested against the woman's lower midrift. A thick golden cord wrapped itself around her slim waist, connecting numerous weapon sheaths to her body. Two small dark brown leather casings rested on opposite hips, holding what seemed like long, tri-bladed daggers(sais). Another sheath held a sword, prodding from its place from the worn, yet sturdy cover. Deep green reflected off another crystal orb, one that layed against her front hip. It was noticably larger than any of the others, easily fitting in the palm of a larger hand in pressed comfort. A strange sense of power radiated from the orb, with such an aura that required extreme caution on behave of the user.

"I am King Edmund." Edmund said, pushing Philip forward a few steps. The woman's attention snapped to him at a dizzying speed, her eyes flicking over to him the moment he started to talk, leaving any thoughts at mid cognition for further analyzes later.

"This is Oreius," Edmund continued on, motioning to Oreius who menacingly glared from below his battle helmet. "General of Narnia's army, and this is Lord Richard, of Archenland. Will you still refuse us your name, even though we have shared our own?" He finished, after taking a quick glance towards the Duke, who looked on silently and let the kings continue on with their interrogation. This was their land after all, and they were responsible for its protection. He was only there to offer a bit of help if it was needed.

"You freely offered your names with no prompt from me. I see little reason to return it with my own." Was her answer, unyielding it its delivery. It was clear that this woman would not give away anything. But that was fine with Edmund, her name wasn't what they were after anyway.

"Then perhaps a different question would be of better accord. Not long ago this party came across a group of bandits. They were practically destroyed by the time we found them. We've come in search of the perpetrator. Would you happen to know of who did this?" Edmund asked, steeling his tone to allow no escape to the woman. She would answer, or else she would be at the point of a blade. He made that clearer with a hand lowering to the blade at his side. She wouldn't have a choice.

The woman's eyes tracked the trail of Edmundshand, watching it lower itself to the swords hilt, yet gave no signs of fear or anxiety at the open display of authority. She was not the type to be bullied into anything, as these people were about to find out.

Peter had been attentive of his brothers actions. The mention of the thieves that had influenced this hunt brought his mind back to topic, and he paid close attention to the woman, watching for any indication of attack. But none came. The woman looked back with calm indifference. The question raising no surprise or any amount of concern. To her, it seemed to just be a fact, an unimportant one at that.

"I might."

It was a quick answer, one that confirmed all their suspicions. And it was perhaps that reason, that made Peter's blood come to a boil.

"You might?" He asked, his earlier anger almost unleashed on the woman. "Either you do, or you don't. There is no in between. Do you know who did that to them?"

"Yes." Eyes rolled along with her response. It was in that confirmation, that simple three letter word, that Peter truly lost his self control. The woman's posture relayed her sentiments of those who she had brutally attacked. She didn't care. It was all insignificant to her.

"You say it as if the death of those men is trivial!" Peter growled out to her, his tone dark and critical. Green eyes looked upon the Magnificent King as he glared harshly in her direction. A small frown pulled at her lips, finding interest in how unorthodox this response was from her perspective. A commander such as this, upset by the death of scum like those thieves. She couldn't quite understand it.

"Was I to exhibit them mercy, when they would have shown me none?" She questioned back. Her stance relaxed slightly, turning towards the king with what seemed like honest inventiveness. "They would not have held back on my account of being outnumbered."

"It appeared as if numbers didn't matter in the first place. Your skills were obviously superior to theirs. The fact that it was one against many did not justify your use of deadly force. You obliterated them, when they had no chance to survive." Peter responded, his blue eyes glaring harshly at her.

The woman, for her part, did not seemed fazed. Her eyebrow arched in response to his retort, skeptic of his words. "They attacked me. It was self-defense that I brought forth my weapons for protection. I owed them no restraint when they so were the ones who insisted upon a brawl."

"None lethal force was within your capabilities. That is what makes this an issue. Yes, it was wicked of them to seek a fight for your possessions, but you are no better when you did not spare their lives." Peter said, anger relaying in his words. This woman was pushing him to the edge of his self-restraint. He could not, for the life of him, understand her obvious uncaring attitude towards what she had done. She clearly thought it was within her moral rights to practically destroy those who went against her. It angered Peter in a way he had not felt since his battle with the White Witch. The fury that traveled in his veins was only rivaled by the pain and horror at watching Edmund fall to Jadis' broken wand. Subconsciously, he took a glance at his brother, and was startled to meet his brothers dark brown eyes, looking intently into his own.

The worry that Edmund was showing was only apparent to someone who knew him as well as Peter did. Instantly, he realized that his unusual behavior, his quickness to show his rage, would cause concern within his brother. Edmund, bless his soul, understood Peter's enmity at the current situation. Peter was a knight of Narnia, his honor code was among one of his most treasured possessions. Any assault on that would be met with resistance and a temper to rival a Telmarine.

Sending an encouraging smile towards his sibling for his compassion, Peter drew his attention back to the problem at hand. Turing his eyes to the snowy haired maiden, he was surprised to see her glaring darkly his way. Her green eyes looked ablaze in the shadows that her bangs created, sending shivers throughout Peters body at the rare display of unrepressed animosity that was coming from her form in intimidating waves. Peter was alarmed at how powerful her glare truly was, its strength and unmistakable severe-ness practically throwing him from his horse. He sensed rather then heard Oreius tense beside him, along with Edmund's gasp of surprise.

"You dare compare me to those lowlifes?" The woman's voice lowered in disbelief at the absurdness of the comment thrown at her.

"I don't see why not." Peter treaded cautiously. It was perhaps the first time since they first stumbled across the woman that he took her for the serious threat she appeared to be. "They did not restrain themselves from trying to steal your things. And you killed them in response."

Silence ensued from his comments. The woman's glare lightened slightly, now looking upon the High King with distrust, and a tinge of something else. Just pure annoyance, Peter finally deduced, right before she spoke.

"I didn't kill anyone." She murmured, her eyebrow returning to its high, assessing position above her optic. Peter's first though was a very abnormal one. For a moment he didn't care about what she had to say, his only concern was that in that single motion, she completely mocked him. One that seemed to accomplish the impossible, and beat anything Edmund had ever jeered before.

Luckily, reality crashed into him a moment after.

"You what?" Peter asked, distrust hanging upon every word. The woman's eyes circled themselves in irritation, and she let out a sigh of impatience as she rolled her neck in what seemed to be a gesture of agitation.

"Not a single one of those men are dead." The woman admitted, letting her body lax itself from the constant strain of preparing for a battle. The visible muscles of her legs and arms lightened as the released the tension that they had held since the conversations had begun. Peter couldn't help but realize that the lack of straining made her look much less threatening.

"But all you said before, you admitted to attacking them. And with the state they were in, they couldn't have survived." Edmund mentioned from atop his horse, looking over to the woman with untrusting eyes, and a hint of apprehension at the thought of accusing her wrongfully.

"No, I admitted to soundly thrashing them. Never did I say I had killed them. I have no doubt that they appeared to have been brutally murdered, I did not hold back on account to them being a group of weaklings. Those people escaped death by my hand, however just barely that was." The woman said, a slight grin on her face as she watched the faces of the people in front of her.

The High King, she mused, looked no better in temperament then before. She reasoned that it was the fact that she left them barely alive, and didn't seem to mind admitting to it. He seemed self-righteous like that. The younger King, the one with dark hair, appeared to be deep in thought, a hand cupping his chin as he looked down at the ground with a frown pulling across his features, brow contorted together in all seriousness.

"Why did you not explain this before? You lead us to believe that you had killed them." It was the first thing the Duke had said to the woman, and she looked at him in surprise as she had almost forgotten his presence.

"I didn't feel the need to. It was your mistake, not mine." She answered simply.

Peter let out a breath of irritation at the woman. "You really are no help with anything. None of this changes the fact that you almost killed those men."

"Your concern with those people is touching, but quite futile. You have bigger problems to deal with than the beating of one group of petty thieves, King." Was the woman's reply, her infamous smirk pulling at her lips. Peter already hated it.

"And what does that mean?" Oreuis' haunting voice said from the side. The conversation had just changed into a threat against either Narnia or its rulers. Territory that Oreius had an critical position in. The soldiers behind him shuffled in anxiety, each realizing that talk had taken a turn for the worst.

"It means just what I said. Narnia's time of peace is over. It's about to become a battle field." The woman spoke. An ominous feeling entered the air, pressing down upon the occupants with an unforgiving chill.

"I'll give you a warning, Kings," Though the word lacked the distain she had added to it beforehand, it still relayed an almost challenging timbre. "You had best be prepared for a battle. This land is in danger, and without proper guidance it will fall to an evil that will tear Narnia apart. You must be ready." The woman's voice dwindled out to nothing as she gave one last look to the receivers of her speech, each of whom were unprepared for such grievous news being borne before them.

With a quick nod, assuring herself that that was all they needed to know, she turned, fully prepared to walk away.

"Stop!" Peter's voice rang out to the strange woman, who paused, but merely turned her head around in compliance.

Peter let out a rattled breath, fully caught unaware by this calamitous prediction. "You will come with us to Cair Paravel, where we will discuss this further." He sent his brother a small nod, telling the group to prepare to leave.

"I think not." The woman's voice sounded through the bustle of noise that was set in motion by Peter's orders. This caused hesitation among the ranks, only Peter, Edmund, Oreius and Richard catching the clear defiance her tone held.

"That is an order from your King." Oreuis said, taking a quick step forward, readying himself for a chase.

A grin of pure satisfaction crossed her face, making her eyes gleam brightly in a way that could only be described as mischievous. The amount of glee she was attempting to quell only made it seem as though she had been repressing the retort back from the beginning.

"He is not my king."

The small moment of surprise resulted, after all, no one was foolish enough to say that to any king. It was quickly filled with the shouts of the soldiers, who were all yelling angrily in response.

A sharp cry from the sides ended all talk, sending each head to the left as the screech was so sudden and shrill it caught the attention of all with ears. Perched on a lower tree branch was a large falcon. Its black feathers smoothly flowing down it's back, and overlapping its hunched wings. Its white breast was speckled with ebony blemishes, shining brightly in what miniscule sunlight the surrounding trees could not keep out. Dark eyes were rimmed in bright yellow, making its stare seem unwavering. Its sharp beck was lined in the same bright color, fading quickly into black pincers that would frighten any small animal(and quite a few big ones!). Thorn like talons prodded from its claws, biting into the bark of the unlucky branch it landed upon.

A few moments passed in silence, before it let out another piercing call, then began stretching its impressive wings, and taking flight.

A quick curse brought recognition to all as they heard the frustration in their High Kings voice. All looked at the place where the woman had been. All, found it dishearten empty.

"She got away." Edmund muttered, taking a quick glance around, dejectedly hoping for a small trail to follow. His sharp eyes picked up nothing as he came to the realization that she did not want to be found, and they were stuck with nothing.

"Let's head back to the girls." Peter said, his tone unquestioning and stern. Turing his horse quickly, he motioned for all to follow, and the group padded silently back from whence they came.

It took noticeable longer to return. The group was discouraged by the prophecy the woman had written out in front of them, along with the fact that they could not question her further. The brisk pace they had set before had been replaced with a quick walk at best.

After some minutes, the group entered the field they had left their fellow companions in, noticing the amount of activity quickly.

"What's going on here?" Peter asked as he swung himself off his horse. Edmund followed suit as he lowered himself from Philips back, watching the seemingly maddening scene that unfolded before him.

Lucy, Susan, and Duchesses Victoria and Margret(who was going much slower than anyone else) were rushing around, barking out orders to unsuspecting soldiers, who were in a relay of motion, running from one lady to another. On the ground each of the wounded bandits lay on the group, but not in complete comfort as they each were tried at the hands and feet.

Susan looked up at her brother bewildered voice. Taking a quick glance around, she let out a wince as she realized how this would look.

"They're not dead!" Lucy cried out before her sister could say anything, her attention not changing from the man she was currently aiding.

Peter and Edmund sent each other inconspicuous glances, feeling the small statement left many unanswered questions. Their arrival caused a interval in all the disarray, the soldiers letting out sighs of relief-who knew the Queens were so bossy-, and the lady's that were left waiting released a small breath of displeasure at being interrupted so suddenly.

"Did you find who did this?" Susan asked as she walked towards her brother, noting with confusion the grim expressions that befell their faces. Lucy, catching on to the subject, left the injured man, and came closer.

Peter sighed, running a hand through his golden locks as Edmund just turned his eyes away from them. "Yeah," Peter confessed. "We found them."

Lady Victoria, and her daughter had made their way over as well, standing next to Richard who was looking at the Pevensies in empathy. The future was looking challenging for the young rulers.

"And?" Lucy pushed, turning her light brown eyes on her brothers, who fidgeted slightly under her gaze.

"And we lost them." Edmund admitted, wincing as he saw Susan's eyes darken.

"What happened?" Susan's low voice questioned, looking over her brother in concern as she eyed them for injuries.

"Nothing, much." Peter said, returning to his role as king, fully prepared to reveal what had transpired. But not now. "We can talk about this at Cair Paravel, for now, what is all this?" Peter threw out a hand, letting it cross in front of him, indicating to the make-shift medical field.

Lucy let out a small grin of embarrassment. "Not long after you left, one of the men let out a groan. We were surprised at first, but then noticed he was still alive. We checked the other men, and found that all of them were just unconscious. We've been trying to keep them comfortable, but we were still treating them when you came back."

Peter let his head tilt to the side in as he noticed a strange anomaly about Lucy's description, and stole a glance towards his brother to see if he too felt the same. Meeting Edmunds eyes, he let an eyebrow raise in confusion.

"Comfortable," Edmund spoke the word as casually as he turned his eyes to his sisters, then fluctuated between them and the injured thieves, before facing his family with a bright grin. "Well, congratulations, dear sisters. I'm sure they are very comfortable in their rope handcuffs!"

Both Lucy and Susan blushed in slight humiliation. "They were thieves!" Susan defended. "The soldiers wouldn't let us near them without some certainty that they wouldn't do anything if they woke up!"

Both Peter and Edmund shared a laugh at Susan's indignant reply, before coughing awkwardly into their hands at the chilling look she responded with. The good humor was short lived, however, as Peter took another calculating glance around the field, then in the direction they came from. A frown marred his lips, one up the utmost concentration.

"She was telling the truth, then." Edmund said, looking at the wounded men in consideration. Peter nodded to the side, thinking the same thing.

"Who was telling the truth?" Susan asked laying a hand on her brothers shoulder, noticing their worried glances.

"The one who did this. She told us that she hadn't killed anyone, only 'thrashed them', as she put it. She admitted to fighting them, said they were trying to rob her and she fought back in self-defense." Edmund said, letting his sisters know a small bit of the earlier discussion.

"This is not self-defense." Peter muttered, glaring at the ground, refusing to release the woman of guilt.

"Wait," Lucy interrupted. "You said she. A woman did this?" Peter affirmed the question with a quick nod.

"How barbaric!" Lady Margret said from beside her father, who patted his daughters shoulder in reassurance. She looked upon the field, as if just noticing the blood and fierceness the field projected for the first time. Peter shook his head at the incredulity of it all.

"Lord Richard, I would like to apologize for this. It isn't what was intended for our outing." Peter said, turning towards the Duke with remorseful eyes.

"Not to worry," Richard assured back. "I'm sure your not any happier with the happenings of today either."

Peter let a small smile of thanks cross his face, grateful that the Duke was not quick to complain, and had better sense then to do so at the moment. "All the same, I'm sorry the day couldn't have gone better."

Richard waved the words away. "It was beyond your control."

"Lord Richard," Edmund said, looking to the Duke in all seriousness. "It pains me to say this, but maybe your stay in Narnia should be cut short." In normal circumstances, this would never be suggested by any of the Pevensies. To reject a guest is rights to start a war against some nations. Only the fact that the Richards family was a close friend, and from Archenland, Narnia's strongest ally, let Edmund bring up the idea without fear of seeming rude.

Peter, nodded in agreement. "He's right. We're not sure if Narnia is safe at the moment. For your protection, it might be best." Along with Peter's point of protecting the Duke's family, there was another speculation on his part. If Narnia was indeed heading for war, Peter was only too certain that in his honor bound life, Richard would offer his assistance in whatever means he could. Regardless of the danger it would entice upon himself, Richard would help out in whatever way possible. Peter refused to get his friend in Narnia's affairs. Richard had a family to take care of, and if Peter was too busy to be sure of Richards protection he could very well die. No, Peter would not allow such guilt and sorrow to be felt by himself or anyone else. Richard himself, and his family would be safer outside of Narnia's borders. Where this vague war would not spread. Or so Peter hoped.

"Understood," Richard said, motioning his family to return to their horses. "We'll leave tomorrow morning. For the moment, I believe this has been quite the exciting day for my family, and ask your forgiveness if we take our leave."

"Sounds like a good idea." Peter said in all honesty. Looking over to his own family, his siblings all smiled slightly in encouragement. "We'll return to the castle too."

In the next few moments orders were issued out to a few soldiers, telling them to stay put with the group of bandits, while the others returned to Cair Paravel. More soldiers would be issued out to come back and round up all the thieves to be deported from Narnia sometime tomorrow. A messenger was sent to the port, telling them of the unexpected passengers that a ship would be carrying to Archenland in the morning.

The Pevensie's all got upon their horses, and started the long trek back to their beloved home. Though the trip took a better half of the hour, it passed fast as all were engaged in their own thoughts.

"Wait!" Susan's voice sounded throughout the throne room, as she tried to get a grasp on what her brothers were telling her. "I don't understand. What battle was she talking about?"

The Pevensie's had resigned themselves into Cair Paravel's hall of Four Thrones not a few moments after arriving. After sending the Archenland nobility to their rooms, and calling Mr. Tumnus and Orieus to the room, they had closed the door, ready to discuss what had transpired through the day.

A thick tension filled the room. All inhabitants feeling it press against their lungs as the need to squirm uncomfortably increased with each passing moment. The occupants of the room were scattered against its walls and small stairs. Susan and Lucy sat upon the steps, looking around with confusion as they attempted to put together the dots of their siblings story. Edmund leaned casually against one of the many pillars had reached grandly to the ceiling, its cool, marble surface offering a small comfort to him as he pressed the back of his head into it in a piqued gesture. Orieus was pacing from one side of the hall to another. He listened quietly to his lieges story, referencing his own knowledge when they would pause in a tired lapse. Mr. Tumnus had been called by Lucy, and stood between all the others, asking questions when clarification was required.

It had been this way for an hour and a half.

Peter exhaled a breath of frustration, as he leaned back in his royal chair, looking upon his siblings and trusted advisers with an almost helpless stare. "I don't know Susan." Peter said, his voice tired as he turned to look out one of the large windows in the room. "She didn't give us a whole lot of details before she took off. She just said we needed to be ready."

Susan moaned in disappointment, relaying the feelings that they all felt. This was a tricky situation, and their simply wasn't enough information to make a well informed decision.

"Maybe the robbers-" Lucy suggested, a hopeful tone to her sweet voice. Edmund shook his head in renouncement. He pushed his body away from the column, the exhausted limbs falling limb at his sides as he walked closer to the group.

"The ones who woke on the way here were of no help." Edmund declared. A few of the thieves had regained consciousness along the way back to the castle. The soldiers had a nasty surprise when a few of them suddenly bolted from the small wagon that had been used for their transportation. The small hunt that resulted was easily won by the soldiers. The thieves were hardly well enough to outmatch a few cheetahs, or even hide from the hounds, and were easily captured again.

"They admitted to trying to steal from our mysterious suspect. At first they said they didn't know it was a woman. But after a few of them got a good look at her, they surrounded her and ordered her to hand over her things. We're not quite sure about the next few minutes. A couple of the men had different stories, but the common factor in all of them is that they got trounced." Edmund continued, telling them the story they had managed to pry from the men, before locking the foul-mouthed men in the cellars for the night. They would be sent to port later tomorrow to be taken from Narnia's borders.

"Different stories?" Tumnus asked, shuffling slightly to ease the pressure on his hooves. Peter, Susan and Lucy looked towards the Just King, their eyes asking similar questions. Oreius, merely glanced at the group from the sides of his eyes, patiently awaiting for the King to continue.

Edmund lightly scratched his cheek, debating how to word his answer. "A few of them undoubtedly exaggerated. They claimed that they managed to land some crippling hits on the woman, probably to save their precious pride from the reality of being so beaten by one woman, before she got in a lucky shot and outdid them. But then others said that they couldn't land a hit. She seemed to be too fast for them, and hit them to with a strong enough attack to overwhelm them in one strike. We did figure out from the strikes that the thieves had on their persons, that she was extremely accurate. Each hit was placed with the intention of beating them swiftly and with as little brute strength as possible."

Susan let out a huff of annoyance. "So we're back where we started. With nothing!"

Oreius shook his head in disagreement. "That is not quite true, my Queen. We know that this woman has the skill required to fall an opponent with such accurate hits. Obviously she favors vulnerable points, rather then simply overpowering her adversary." Oreius comment, looking from one ruler to another, recognizing the understanding that reflected back. "That is a very formidable foe, one who can win with a single strike. Caution and preparation is one of the strongest protection needed against such a challenge."

Silence reined through the hall, all thoughts upon how to anticipate an adversary they knew nothing about.

Peter leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped in front of his face as he gazed at the smooth, reflective surface of the floor. He stared into his reflection, seeing it glare back with an intensity he seldom allowed himself to display in front to his family. Alert, yet fully entrapped into his thoughts, he closed his eyes in puzzlement.

"A dangerous foe appears with news of a perilous battle, and we have no way of knowing what intentions our enemies have." Peter recited to himself. His siblings looked at him, concern already overlapping their demeanor as they started to realize the foreboding peril that loomed ahead.

"No. Not a dangerous foe, a powerful ally." A golden radiance seemed to spark the air as all motion and deliberation(however internally it may have been) ceased. The voice commanded all attention as every being in the vicinity looked up towards the recently opened doors of the hall. "Gale Winters, will be valuable ally to Narnia in the strife that is fast approaching."

Each of the Pevensie's waited for a moment, still absorbed in the brilliance of the newcomer, before shouting cries of joy at the beings return.

"Aslan!"

Ramblings of an Author: Finally! Part two is finished! I think this may be the fastest update I've ever done. The sad part is that it still took me about a month to get it finished and ready to publish onto the net. But I refuse to dwell on that fact. I prefur to take my self-invented pride, and leave any self-pity for tomorrow. Just one of the(few) benefits of my procrastination!

Well, for the most part I'm pretty happy with how it turned out, though no where near as relieved as I am at no longer have to refer to Gale as 'the woman'. I was running out of idea's at how to make that non-repetitive, and it was really starting to nag at my patience. I was however worried that I wouldn't get the interaction between Peter and my o.c. as I had planned it, but found I was happily surprised with how it all went. My o.c. was an irritating prat, and Peter was only hanging on by a thread! Just kidding, but it was my intention to make the beginning for the two a bit shaky. I really was hoping to make the difference in their opinions obvious, because really, they end up as extremely different characters, each with their own faults and strong points. It becomes a very important factor throughout the rest of the story. Things only get more interesting from here on out!

On an off topic discussion, I have recently just finished my first standardized test. The dreaded ACT! It officially ruined my Saturday, and I despised every minute of it. It is torture, pure and simple. The only part that wasn't half bad was the writing portion of the test. I happily admit to being my good old sarcastic self for that part. Hopefully that doesn't dock me too many points, though I was quite annoyed by that point, and can't remember all that I wrote out. All I remember is the feeling of my brain slowly dying while I stumbled my way through the science part, which somehow ended up being worse then the math portion. And I don't know how that happened, since I usually like science, and have always loathed math with a passion. Just goes to show how pointless and totally absurd the ACT really is!

I would like to thank dancingqueensillystring, unicorn-skydancer08, Vanillastar, crazyelf22, XoptimisticxpessimistX, andkriter026, for being the first six to write reviews for my story. You guys really helped with this part, and I really appreciate all the support you have shown. I'm happy you liked the story, and I hope that in the future I can keep it worth your attention. Thank you so very much!

Just a note, on my homepage is a link to a picture of Gale's appearance. It'll be under the On Our Final Night, section of my homepage. Please check it out since I'm sure my description was confusing. It includes the clothes as well. Just imagine in the blades!

Thanks for reading! Feel free to review or message! A writers life is lonely without it!