The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

Lost in Shadow

Haveron galloped through the woods with Margaret atop his back, hooves thundering down onto the path below. Her cape fluttered in the wind behind them as they rode along, not with any purpose in mind, but simply for the sake of the rushing wind and the wood-filtered sunlight. The riding dress which she wore was white with an outer skirt layer and corset that both matched the emerald shade of her cloak. She hung tight to Haveron's mane as he leapt over a fallen tree, then splashed through a small creek, making them both laugh in joy. Margaret had long ago learned how to ride without the aid of a saddle, for Narnian horses much preferred that dignity, and she found it much easier to maneuver in battle that way as well.

"Queen Margaret!" called a voice.

Gently, she nudged Haveron's shoulder, signalling him to stop. A second set of hoofbeats came up beside them. It was Oreius.

"Oreius, how many times must I tell you to simply call me Margaret?" she laughed, patting Haveron's neck. After so many years in Narnia, she had fully abandoned the name "Maggie," accepting her role as Margaret the Resilient, but that didn't mean she wanted her friends to be so formal with her.

"Perhaps once more, Margaret," he replied, amused. "Though you know I must maintain propriety in front of the court."

"Well I don't see the court anywhere around," she said.

Oreius nodded. "And yet it is a court matter that I've come to speak with you about..."

Margaret snorted. "Oh I know just what you've come for. I told Peter there was no need, but he insists..."

"It's not every day the Queen turns eighteen," Oreius replied.

"It's happened once before with Susan and it shall happen once more with Lucy," she said, waving dismissively. "I don't need a celebration..."

"Come, Margaret," Oreius said. "Your brother simply wants to do this for you. They all do... and your subjects do as well."

Margaret sighed in good-natured irritation. "For the love of my people, then," she said, "I shall celebrate as never before."

Oreius bowed his head, unable to hide a pleased smirk.

"Haveron, my friend, if you would be so kind as to escort the Queen back to Cair Paravel..."

"And will the General be escorting us?" Margaret asked playfully. "After all, you have a wife and a young son to get back to..."

Oreius' face brightened with pride at the mention of Clemendia and their son, Glenstorm. Once the two centaurs had finally realized (and admitted) their affections, the Kings and Queens had most joyously set about preparing everything for their union. Just a few short years later, they had happily welcomed a young foal into the world.

"But of course," Oreius said, "We shall return at once." The centaur's cool composure would not betray his excitement to any unfamiliar with him, but to Margaret who knew him well, she could tell just how much he wished to see his family again, even after such a brief time apart.

With that said, Oreius led the way back to the castle, with Haveron close behind.

Upon arrival, Margaret noticed the celebratory banners hung in place, and the servants that bustled about. Though she thought it rather over the top, a small, secret part of her still adored the sentiment behind it. Once she dismounted, Haveron trotted off to assist in any way he could, and Oreius took his leave with a bow.

Margaret didn't get far at all before Peter strode up to her. He wore a bright grin, pulling her under his arm.

"There you are, Margaret! Thought you could hide from the celebration, did you?"