Author's Note- Okay, this is only my second Narnian fic and its set as a sort of AU to Prince Caspian the Movie from the Battle of Beruna onwards. There is quite a bit of angst and gory details so you have been warned. This isn't very Disney!

The battle was raging. Shouts of anger and screams of pain tore across the usually peaceful region. Metal swords crashed with the violence and ferocity to rival a thunderclap. Claws, paws and teeth raked at bare skin – tearing out hunks of flesh. The grass was drenched with scarlet blood, making it slick and treacherous. Horses reared and kicked and whinnied in the chaos, their eyes white marbles of panic and fear. Huge clouds of dust enveloped the fighters, created by the towering, mechanical trebuchets that launched boulders with devastating effect. Each victim was thrown off their feet or crushed by the heavy rocks. The world smelt of sweat and the tangy metallic scent of fresh blood.

In the midst of it all, four brave soldiers fought hard. They twisted and span within their enemy's ranks as if completing some gruesome dance, of which the punishment for a mistake would be, undoubtedly, death. Three boys and one girl – battling for their lives and the lives of those around them. Their weapons flashed in the midday sun as they glanced from one opponent to the next. Even with each of their skill, the four were struggling to defeat the enormous numbers which were bearing down on them. Despite their earlier ingenuity in warfare, the sheer force of the Telmarine army was overwhelming their soldiers. As they engaged in combat they saw their friends and allies falling beside them – cut down where they stood. They would be next.

A coal-haired head ducked and darted between the slicing, slashing blades of the enemy. With two swords in hand, he fended off as many soldiers as he could. A blow here. A thrust there. Then a parry. The constant movement was exhausting and, despite the adrenaline flowing through his veins, fatigue was fast setting in. His muscles ached. Looking to his left, he spotted his sister occupied in a fierce one-on-one struggle with a rugged Telmarine soldier. She was fighting valiantly but obviously tiredness was affecting her too because the man was definitely landing more blows. Concerned for her safety, the boy finished off his current adversary and ploughed his way towards her, through the sea of soldiers.

And then, to his horror, he watched as the Telmarine knocked the bow from her hand and threw it into the dirt. Fear darkened his sister's grey eyes as she found herself unarmed and helpless. She backed away, suddenly completely vulnerable. That was when the man plunged forward and ran his sword through her stomach. She doubled over like a broken twig, her mouth open with shock. The man withdrew his weapon, a satisfied smirk curling on his lips. With a distraught cry, the boy lunged at his sister's murderer from behind and killed him on the spot.

Blood rushed in his ears and the battle around him suddenly became mute as he approached his fallen sister. Her dark hair pooled around her head and her face was pale. A small trickle of crimson liquid trickled from her thin, closed lips as her chest rose one last time and then stopped. The boy forgot to breathe as his world came crashing down around his ears. His sister…was dead.

Full of vengeful anger, the dead girl's brother turned and launched himself into the battle once more – his head a whirl with fury, sadness, despair, guilt… In his mind there was no point in worrying about death anymore. He'd lost his sister, what did it matter if he lost his life too? Guilt-ridden and mourning, the young man neglected to remember the rest of his precious family.

As if his wish had been granted, minutes later, a well-placed arrow found its way hurtling through the air to embed its head and shaft deep into his back. The boy pitched forward, adding his body to the many corpses already strewn there.

One sibling remained on the battle field, unaware of his brother and sister's ghastly fate. He fought bravely, clashing swords with many opponents in his bid to rid Narnia of these terrible foes. The sun beat down mercilessly, plastering golden locks to his sweaty head. But he was oblivious to nature's ironic games, too engrossed in combat. To his left, he was aware of an ally, battling ferociously: Prince Caspian. The young Telmarine struck several blows to his current enemy and then moved onto the next. They covered each other's backs.

A tumult of caws, barks, screeches and roars could be heard over the din of clanging metal and the golden haired boy was aware that his army still fought hard – giving all they had despite depleting numbers. Soon they would be overwhelmed, in his head he knew this but his heart would never give up. He had not killed Miraz for nothing.

Suddenly a searing pain lashed through his body, spreading out from his chest. He was aware of a warm, dampness spreading across his already red jerkin. The burning agony increased tenfold and the boy felt his knees buckled beneath him – giving out to the weight. He had no idea how he had been wounded or who indeed had committed the act of killing a High King, but what he did know was that the world was becoming dimmer by the second as blackness clouded his vision.

As he slipped from consciousness, the young man just hoped that all his siblings were safe.

Caspian was the only one left, he had watched each of the Kings and Queen of Old perish in the midst of the ferocious battle and felt a small piece of his soul die with each of them. He knew that the battle was lost. He knew that no matter what they did now they could never hope to defeat the Telmarines. And he knew that there was no way he would get out of this fight alive. But what he hoped was for the last remaining Pevensie to survive. They couldn't all die.

Lucy was alone. The Telmarine soldiers had long since stopped chasing her and now she just trotted through the fast darkening forest feeling scared and isolated. Around her the trees were silent and ominous – not like they used to be. She just wanted her brothers and sisters with her. They made her feel safe. Oh Aslan, where are you? She thought. Had she been wrong all this time? Had she really been imaging things? Surely the Great Lion would have revealed himself to her by now. Perhaps Peter was right; maybe she was seeing what she wanted but what wasn't truly there. That thought chilled her to the bone.

Not only did she feel abandoned by Aslan but she felt ashamed for letting her siblings down. They had been counting on her to bring reinforcements back to aid them in their fierce and awful battle. If she came back empty-handed would they be greatly disappointed? She was sure Peter would be. He counted on her; he had trusted her to find Aslan. And she had failed. A terrible, sick feeling welled up in the pit of Lucy's stomach and she wanted to cry. Why hasn't Aslan come? How could he do this to us? To me?

Finally, the young girl decided that she had travelled enough. Even her optimistic spirit could not sustain the thought that Aslan was still out there waiting for her. With a leaden heart, Lucy pulled on her horse's reins and turned its dark head round, back the way they had come. It was time to get back to the others.

By the time Lucy reached the How she was aware things were not how they should be. Everything seemed unnaturally quiet and with every step her horse took a feeling of foreboding rose within her. Even Prince Caspian's horse seemed to sense the unease as it tensed and snorted agitatedly. Lucy's knuckles were white as she gripped the leather reins. Her breathing was short and uneven.

The youngster had never even entertained the idea that the Narnian's would lose the Battle of Beruna. She had always assumed that when she returned there would be joy and merriment and victory – like last time. But last time, she reminded herself, they had had Aslan and reinforcements. This time Lucy had failed. So when the little girl rode her large, ebony mount through the trees onto the field that led up to the How she was not really expecting the sight that met her eyes.

In the half-light of the moon, the scene was probably all the more disturbing, with the bluish glow that fell upon the great expanse of land. It was the stench that reached Lucy's nose first, it was intense to the point of overwhelming – a cloying, stomach-turning smell that a seasoned warrior would immediately recognise as the scent of blood. However, Lucy was a child and still illiterate in the essences of warfare. Her mind was too innocent to comprehend the blood-shed.

Gazing out onto the plain of grass, the young Queen registered some lumpy outlines on the ground and it was a moment before she realised what they were: hundreds of corpses. All left there to rot and decompose. By this time, Lucy's eyes were wide and glassy, unsure of what all these signs meant.

Uncertainly, the child clambered down from her horse and began to walk. She stumbled through the mounds of bodies – her mind fighting her body in an effort to stop her stomach rebelling. There were so many dead. Lucy could not even fathom the amount of lives had been lost today; the amount of families that had lost a father, a mother, a brother, a husband. Silent tears trickled down her cheeks leaving stinging salty trails in their wake. Would she too be one of the mourners?

Above her, at the top of the field, the How stood empty and desolate, its entrance blocked by a pile of heavy stones. If there was no one in there then where were all the Narnians? Where were her siblings? They couldn't all be dead, could they?

Something caught on Lucy's boot and she tripped, almost sprawling into the mud. She retained her balance though, and looked down at what had caused her to almost fall. It was an elegantly carved bow….Susan's bow. With her heart in her mouth, the young girl spun on the spot and began calling.

"Susan? Susan! Susan!" But wait, why should she just call for her sister? She should call for her brothers too; maybe they would hear her and reply. "Peter? Edmund? Peter! Susan! Edmund!"

Lucy's throat became hoarse. She had shouted for what seemed like hours and had received no answer. Just as despair was overcoming the youngster, her eye caught sight of something to her right; something completely and utterly devastating. Susan's body lay prone of the blood-sodden earth, bent and broken. Lucy had never seen her sister in such a way and it would scar her for life. Her strong, brave, caring sister lay on the ground like a soiled rag-doll – torn and hurt beyond repair. Collapsing to her knees beside the corpse, the young girl let out a choked cry and allowed the tears to flow, hot and free, down her face.

Eventually, she had to leave her sister and move on in the hope of finding one of her other siblings – alive. Though she didn't hold out much hope. If they were alive they would never have left Susan alone in the middle of a deserted battle-field. That's what scared her.

It was Prince Caspian she found next, the lower part of his torso and legs were buried beneath a huge boulder – no doubt thrown by one of the trebuchets. Obviously the shock and the crush injuries had killed the young man. Seeing the surprised look on his face and his still wide open, unseeing eyes, Lucy decided she didn't want to go looking for her brothers; she couldn't. There was little uncertainty they too were dead. All the Narnians were dead.

Lucy was alone.

As I said, gory and angsty...so what does Lucy do next? Review to find out! Please!