Margaret and Brontan rode tirelessly over the next day and a half, stopping for nothing. The both of them summoned whatever strength they possessed in order to reach the centaurs as quickly as possible. Several times throughout the journey, Margaret found herself wishing for something other than shorts and a t-shirt to ride in, but there was nothing to be done about it right then.
Night had fallen by the time they arrived at the Dancing Lawn. They were deep in the heart of the Great Forest now, and Brontan assured her that the Telmarines feared Narnian magic too greatly to venture this far.
Even from a distance, a great clamor could be heard, shouts and snarls and growls arising from the Lawn.
"What's going on?" Margaret called to Brontan as they headed towards the noise.
"I don't know, my Queen," he replied, his voice strained and weary. "But I suspect we are about to find out..."
They thundered into the clearing where Brontan finally came to a stop, rearing high at the last second in order to avoid trampling what looked to be a Telmarine soldier standing there in the center of the gathering of Narnians.
When all of his hooves were on the ground once more, Margaret slipped down from his back. She was dead tired, and she could tell Brontan was too by the way his sides heaved, but nevertheless, she drew herself up and faced the Narnians like the queen she was.
"Brontan!" cried a Badger. "What are you doing here?"
"And with a human no less?" came the sneering voice of a Black Dwarf.
At the sight of the Dwarf, her hand twitched towards the stolen Telmarine crossbow, but she managed to stop herself from attacking him. It likely wouldn't make a good impression on the Narnians to start a fight based on what races had fought against the White Witch thirteen hundred years ago. In fact, it seemed that all of those who had sided with darkness long ago were now united under the Narnian cause. There were Minotaurs and Wolves and Black Dwarfs right alongside Fauns and Big Cats and Red Dwarfs.
"Let me explain myself, on behalf of Brontan," Margaret said, noting the difficulty the Horse was having. "My friend needs rest and refreshment. We have ridden nonstop for the better part of two days."
There was a pause, and the Dwarf and the Badger looked to the Telmarine in the center of the clearing, which Margaret found most odd. The man nodded, and Brontan, though looking confused, slowly cantered off to the edge of the clearing where he flopped down into the grass.
Then, all attention returned to Margaret.
"Who are you?" the Telmarine asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I should be asking that of you, Telmarine," Margaret said shortly. "Why do the Narnian people look to an invader for leadership?"
"It is a long story," he said. "But in short, I am Prince Caspian, and I am here to help the Narnians reclaim their land from my Uncle, Miraz."
Margaret glanced at the Narnians around her, and at the moment, they seemed far more wary of her than of this Caspian. By the looks of her people, the long centuries of hardship would not lead them to reust easily, and so, for the moment, she decided to trust their judgement, and accept the story without further question.
"Now," Caspian continued, "Once again, I must ask, who are you, and why has the noble Narnian Horse brought you to this place?"
This was the moment she had been waiting for. The whole reason she and Brontan had ridden so hard was to find the centaurs and to offer her services, but suddenly, Margaret felt ashamed. Would her people blame her for abandoning them? They had obviously found a leader in Caspian, so how would they feel about her offer of aid?
"I came to seek the wise council of the centaurs, and to offer my services to the good people of Narnia," she said, still hesitant to reveal her identity.
"You are no Telmarine," the prince remarked.
"Why would we want your help?" the Black Dwarf from earlier suddenly interjected. "I rather think one human is quite enough."
Steeling herself, Margaret answered, "I am not just any human."
The Narnians gazed at her intently, and her will almost faltered, but she forced herself to continue.
"I am Margaret the Resilient, Queen of Narnia, Lady of the Stars. I was taken from this world by magic, and I return to you now at Aslan's will to right the wrongs of the Telmarine invaders; to restore peace to Narnia and see its people freed."
Murmurs of disbelief rippled through the gathering.
"Queen Margaret?" Caspian said in awe. It was then that Margaret noticed what was hanging from his belt.
"Susan's Horn..." she whispered. Intently, she fixed her gaze on Caspian's. "Is that what called me home?"
Before he could answer, that same Dwarf scoffed loudly.
"The Lady of the Stars?" He sneered. "All of the Kings and Queens vanished centuries ago." He looked her over with disdain, but seemed to relent at the sight of her flame colored hair. "Very well, if you're really Queen Margaret... The legends say that she knew each and every star by name. So tell me, Your Majesty, what is the name of that one?" he demanded, jabbing his finger at a random spot in the sky.
"Nikabrik!" the Badger scolded. "Don't be impertinent. Can you not see from her appearances alone that she is who she claims to be? There has never been another in this world with hair of flame and eyes of steel."
The Dwarf, Nikabrik, waved him off dismissively.
"A resemblance to a legend is not proof enough, Trufflehunter."
The centaurs gathered at the Lawn said nothing, they merely observed.
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
"Canagrinn does not take kindly to rude pointing, Friend Nikabrik," she said. "He is the Lord of Justice, you see, and he has seen too many fingers waved in false accusation." She looked around at the rest of the Narnians. "But to our fortune, he tells me that his day to shine all the brighter is soon at hand."
Nikabrik narrowed his eyes at her, but nevertheless turned his gaze to the centaur that stood at the front of the others.
"Well, Glenstorm?" he demanded. "What of it?"
"Glenstorm?" Margaret said softly. "Named for the son of Oreius and Clemendia?"
The centaur nodded.
"My ancestors of many ages ago, my lady," he said, bowing his head to her. Then, he turned to Nikabrik. "She is who she says she is, Dwarf. Aslan has sent our Queen back to us."
Glenstorm turned back to Margaret and bowed at the waist, and the rest of the centaurs followed suit.
"Queen Margaret, Lady of the Stars, Oracle of Aslan and Seer of Narnia, you are the Patron Lady of the Centaurs who keep watch over the stars," he addressed her formally. "My sons and I welcome you home."
"Thank you, Glenstorm," she said kindly. Then, she recalled the Telmarine at her side. "Prince Caspian..."
He looked to her with an expression that she couldn't quite place, almost as if he were about to relent leadership to her, but in her heart, Margaret knew the course which had been set must be completed. After all, what would become of her people if she took charge and named herself sole leader, only for her vision to be fulfilled? No, if she were to die, it would be best for the people to trust another as well. Aslan must have known this...
"In my absence, my people have chosen you to lead them," she continued. "I shall not challenge their judgement. You bear my sister's horn. I believe you have been chosen by Aslan, and I would not dare speak against the Great Lion." She gave him a conspiratorial wink and smiled. "I find that He often knows best."
The Narnians around her chuckled.
"All I ask," Margaret went on. "Is that you allow me to help you. I would be as an advisor to you, to help my people overthrow your uncle."
"Of course," Caspian said quickly. "It would be my honor, Queen Margaret."
She shook her head, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Just Margaret is fine."
Caspian looked mortified at the idea, but nodded silently.
"Before you came," he said eventually, "We were just making plans. We must acquire weapons, soldiers... This is but a small portion of the remaining Narnians."
Margaret nodded at his words.
"It does my heart some good to hear that," she said. "As for weapons..." She looked to Glenstorm. "What have we in the way of forges?"
"Not so much as we would like, my lady," he said. "The Dwarfs and Minotaurs will make what they can, but I fear that it will not be enough."
"Perhaps we could find weapons that are already made..." Caspian suggested hesitantly, as though he were unsure of himself, "In Telmarine transports, that is. We could raid their wagons, their supplies, for armor and weapons..."
Margaret smiled encouragingly. "Brilliant, Caspian. But we shall need a place to rally our forces... When we fought the White Witch at Omaru, we had a camp nearby... Perhaps we could return there, to that valley. It should be rather out of the way, a place to hide." She hesitated. "Or have the centuries changed the landscape?"
Trufflehunter, the Badger, stepped forward to comfort her.
"I am truly sorry, my lady," he began, "For all that you have lost... But we do have a place to make camp... a place where I believe you might feel a little more at home."
Margaret sighed sadly, and nodded.
"Very well," she said. "Then take us there, my friends. And we shall prepare for war."
"We should wait until morning," Caspian said. "You need rest, my lady. As do we all."
He had already forgotten to call her by her name, but Margaret found it more endearing than anything.
"As you say, Prince Caspian," she agreed. "Let us set up camp."
A few small fires were started, and the Narnians all gathered around, scouts keeping watch on the perimeters.
Margaret sat with her back against a tree, a bit away from the least crowded fire. The crossbow and its quiver of bolts sat by her side, pulling her gaze. Those bolts were the very same that she had seen in her dream, the ones that pierced her body. In her heart, she knew that this journey into Narnia would end in her death. It did terrify her, but at the same time, she felt oddly resigned to it. Not at peace, necessarily, but just... acceptance. She took one of the bolts into her hands, turning it over as her mind wandered.
"Queen Margaret?" came the soft, accented voice of Prince Caspian.
She looked up to see him standing there, looking shy and uncertain.
"May I join you?" he asked.
"Of course," Margaret said, patting the spot beside her.
Caspian sat against the tree next to her.
"I... never dreamed that I would meet you," he said. "You and your siblings were... more than myths to me. Tales and legends. Stories... And now, here you are..."
"This isn't exactly how I pictured my life either," she said with a sad laugh. "I thought I would die in the Golden Age... perhaps falling defending Narnia from someone who would seek to disrupt that peace. But the day we chased the stag... it changed everything. I was pulled from this world, suddenly the same age and moment from which I had left. I had to grow up a second time..."
Realizing that perhaps she had shared too much, Margaret shook her head.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't burden you with these things."
"It is no burden, my lady," Caspian said. "But I can see the grief it causes you, and I would not wish to be the cause of your sadness. I would be glad to speak of other things, if you wish."
This Caspian was kind, Margaret realized. In fact, he did not seem much like a Telmarine at all. Not any Telmarine that she had known before, that was.
"Tell me of your journey here," he said. "Of how you met Brontan, and-" he nodded at the crossbow bolt in her hands "-the encounter which led to you acquiring that."
Margaret laughed softly at his attempt to distract her.
"It isn't a very lengthy story, I'm afraid," she said. "I came upon Brontan at the same time as a group of Telmarine soldiers. They could tell by the look of me that I didn't belong, and I had to fight my way out."
"You took on a patrol of Telmarines by yourself?" Caspian asked, something in his voice like awe.
Margaret looked sheepish. "It was no more than I had done in my time..."
"You are even more fearsome than the stories say," Caspian said. "Even dressed in such strange garments."
Margaret rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop a laugh. "I know, I know, the clothes from my world in my time are odd... You don't happen to know where I can acquire something more Narnian, do you?"
"Well," Caspian began, "You know better than I do that most Narnians have no need of trousers... but I imagine the lady centaurs may be able to find a spare blouse for you, if you wish."
But Margaret shook her head.
"No need for them to give up their things for me," she said. "These things will do for now."
Just then, a Mouse wearing a golden circlet appeared beside the two of them.
"I do beg your pardon, my Queen," he said with a sweeping bow. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but overhear your predicament. My name is Reepicheep, and as I told Prince Caspian here, my blade is at your service."
"Hello, Reepicheep," Margaret said with a bright smile.
"Earlier today, my men and I took care of some Telmarines." For some reason, Caspian looked a little sheepish at the Mouse's words. "We made certain to redistribute their weapons to our troops, of course," Reepicheep continued, "But I do believe one of the larger Narnians went to collect their armor and clothing. One of the soldiers was rather small, and his things would likely fit you in a pinch. If you don't mind wearing Telmarine men's garb, I'm certain I can find something for you."
"That would be wonderful, Reepicheep," Margaret said, touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you ever so much."
"Of course, my lady. I guarantee, I'll have your things by morning."
With one final bow, he scurried away to set about his task.
"I suppose I ought to rest," Margaret said absently, though her mind felt opposite her words. If she slept, she might be condemned to dream, after all.
A shiver ran through her at the thought of suffering that dream another time, but Caspian must have mistaken it for a chill. He quickly removed the cloak from around his shoulders and held it out to her.
"Oh, no," she protested, "I couldn't."
"No, please," Caspian replied, "I insist. The night will grow cold, and Reepicheep will not have your things until the morning. Please, Your Majesty, your... Other-World clothes will not keep you warm." At her hesitation, his eyes grew pleading. "For my peace of mind, at least."
That, combined with those eyes, and she couldn't say no.
"Very well," she relented with a sigh. "Thank you, Prince Caspian."
He smiled triumphantly as she accepted the cloak.
"Simply 'Caspian' will do, my lady."
Margaret paused, then laughed a little.
"Very well... but only if you shall agree that simply 'Margaret' will do..."
"I... I could do that," he said.
"Good," she said. "Then I shall see you in the morning... Caspian. Goodnight."
The two of them stood to find a place bed for the night. As they went on their way, she heard Caspian's soft voice.
"Goodnight... Margaret."