I don't own anything.

Lady Violet.

The name had been flung across the lips of nearly every patron of Cair Paravel for weeks now. Certainly all of the court women, because she was to join them in the ranks. She had been picked for the sole entertainment of the youngest Queen, Lucy. Who found all of their current court ladies to be old and gossipy hags. (In some cases, they were actually hags.) Or pinched snobs who were only there to giggle and flounce about her brothers. Ick.

Susan had found her. "It wasn't easy," Susan later recalled to Lucy, "What with your requirements."

Lucy knew she was bratty when she had made a list of traits she would like the girl to have. But, honestly, the Lady was only brought to court to be Lucy's friend. Why shouldn't she be involved? When she had handed the list to Susan, parchment thick with sprawled loopy cursive that she had been practicing, Susan had laughed out loud.

1. Ought to be funny, and like jokes and frivolity.

2. Should be nice, but not -(here she underlined)- too nice.

3. Should certainly like stories, and books.

4. Should at least be semi intelligent, for my sake.

5. Not too full of herself, nor boastful.

6. Should be a bit close to my age.

7. Wants to spend time with me, I should hope.

Thank you, Su!

It took nearly a month, and both sister were both certain it was a hopeless case. But then, oh fate, Susan was introduced to a girl named Violet at a small ball. She was a bit young - six and ten years old -. And had a dark tangle of hair, much like the flank of a horse, Susan thought.

They sat down and spoke together. Susan learned that she lived just outside Cair Paravel, in the woodlands. About how her father went around Narnia selling blacksmiths the metals they need to make weaponry, so he was hardly ever home. And with her mother busy taking care of her younger sisters, she was never, what shall you say, properly introduced into high society. But, as she grew older, she thought she ought to try on her own. And that this was one of her first few parties, which was how Susan met her.

"Lovely story." Susan said, politely.

"Was it fate, I wonder?" Violet laughed, quixotically.

After a while, Susan found her rather nice. But shy, perhaps too much. But then Violet would give her a sly look. Prankish. And silently mocking at the pompous Lord-Whoever was boring them with a ramble about his estate.

Susan knew she was perfect, then.

After she was first introduced to the court, everyone had an opinion. They all said she was either too ordinary, too strange, too quiet. They found her "too" a lot of things. They found it funny, Lucy and Violet. Couldn't a group of people, so adept at gossiping, decide if she was shy or brassy? Were they that oblivious that they couldn't decide which to dislike her for?

It became a joke between them: that they would hide away the "Real Violet" away from all those fops and leighsters. How some people kept their eyes on her at parties - inconspiciuously, of course - made them laugh. As if they would indeed see Real Violet if they stared hard enough. How the Nymphs and Fauns and Satyrs just about broke their necks watching, seeing how Violet interacted with the other court girls. Seeing how she could fit in amongst them.

"Doesn't the poor dear realize how she looks?" One of them tsk-tsked, referring to her rather untamed appearance, adding, "She looks like one of those Telemarine gypsy women!"

They weren't all bad, however. Some thoughtfully defended her. "Oh, she's not so bad. A gypsy she looks, perhaps, but a cute gypsy. I couldn't very well imagine her with that hair tied in a chignon!" She'd laugh. The other would hide her sour disdain behind lipstick.

But, they got used to her after a while. Everything was peaceful. And, like so often happens with peace, it seemed like it would last forever. The spring competitions were coming up. And they felt like everything would always stay exactly like this, forever.

They were wrong, of course.

TO BE CONTINUED.