Whoa! This chapter just wrote itself... it came out a lot sooner than I expected! Oh well, good for you... Consider this as a winter gift from me to you! :D

Thank you to all my reviewers! You are the BEST! :D

Disclaimer: Narnia does not belong to me, Isabel and some small OCs do!

.

'FATE OR DESTINY?'

A TROUBLING NIGHT

.

Isabel looked around. She was sitting in a small, cozy tent with one cot, and a set of makeshift chairs and a table. After all the harsh, uncomfortable time spent as prisoners under Vane and his army, this small place seemed so warm and welcoming.

Vane…

The mere thought of him brought back the horrible memories. She had tried to lock them away somewhere deep within her, but it was not that easy. Whenever she had no one to talk to, they would return to the surface of her thoughts and she would feel his touch. She felt disgusted with him, with herself. The sheer unjustice of what had happened was... there were no words to even describe her feelings.

She had spent her time talking to Peter or Julia. She knew she was annoying her husband, but she needed to talk. And talking to him, arguing with him, fighting with him, made her feel a lot better. She felt as if everything was normal, as if nothing had gone wrong... But it had.

Of course, Peter would only talk so much to her. A point would come when he would just turn away or tell her to shut up, or he would inadvertently express his dislike towards her. And she would find herself spiraling deeper into her depression. Theirs had been a complicated marriage to begin with, but now, after what Vane did, she did not know how they would continue.

Conversing with Julia had been a joy. Even in her terrified state, the little girl was full of innocence and optimism. And now, thank God, she was safe with her father. Isabel could recall how happy the little girl had been when Huard had arrived...

The father and daughter reunion had made Isabel think of the last time she had seen her own father. His body, mangled and bloody and lifeless... Isabel stood up with a shudder and looked around for some sort of distraction. Left alone, she would drown in her misery. Perhaps, she ought to take a turn about the camp.

But then, she hesitated, thinking of what Peter had said to her before he had left her in this tent.

"I have some matters to attend to, but you can rest here." Peter moved to leave, then paused. "I'd prefer it if you didn't leave this tent."

She had frowned. "I thought we were safe here."

"We are, but…" his eyes roamed over her torn clothes and exposed, bruised skin. "I don't want anyone to see you in this state. You are their queen and I don't want anyone speculating as to what happened back at Vane's hideout."

Isabel had lowered her head in shame. "You're right. I will stay here."

She should stay here then. In the tent. Even if the loneliness tore at her. Even if her mind recalled all the horrors she had faced. Even if the walls of the tent seemed to close up and suffocate her. She should stay. Because Peter had forbidden her...

But who was he to stop her? Your husband, her mind supplied. She sighed, turning away in anger. This way, she would go crazy, thinking about all that she had been through.

Her eyes came to rest on her cloak. The cloak Peter had draped over her last night. The cloak she had been wearing all along. She picked it up and covered herself in it properly, making sure that she seemed presentable… Well, the most she could in these circumstances, and then stepped out of the tent.

It was dark, the moon hidden behind the clouds. A star twinkled here and there. Hushed chatter filled the area. A few tents were set up. About ten soldiers were sitting around the campfire, cooking food. They bowed as they noticed her. Isabel nodded towards them and moved forward, her eyes looking for a glimpse of her husband. She was supposed to be hiding from him, not looking for him!

It didn't take long for her to spot him. He was standing with Huard, a couple of other men and a centaur she was sure she had met. They all seemed to be having a serious conversation, their faces grim.

Is everything alright? She wondered. Was there any news from Cair? Curious, she moved closer until their voices reached her.

"Alas!" said one of the men, "It is very sad that we lost such wonderful fighters."

"They are martyrs," the centaur declared. "And they will be avenged."

"Yes, they will." Peter said. He leaned towards a table upon which was laid out a detailed map of the forests.

"What must I tell the men, my king?" Huard asked. "They would want to know our next move."

Dread filled Isabel. Peter was planning on attacking Vane. She understood that he had to do it, but she was not ready to let him go just yet. So she rushed forward, hoping to speak to Peter or create a diversion, anything, anything to stop him from giving an order.

Her foot caught in a branch she hadn't noticed and she tripped, letting out a small cry of surprise. Though it was not how she wanted to catch her husband's attention, it worked. The group turned to her, and Huard hurried towards her, holding out his hand. "My Queen, are you alright?"

"Yes. Yes..." She said, pushing herself to her feet. She was not ready to take another man's hand just yet. "How clumsy of me." She forced a smile, her eyes moving from the military man to Peter.

The High King's face was blank but Isabel could almost feel the hidden glare directed towards her. He had strictly told her to stay in the tent and she had disobeyed. She suppressed a wince, wondering if she should run away before he could have a chance of unleashing his anger.

"Is there something you need?" he asked her.

She forced her voice to stay neutral. "No, my king." She said. "The last few days have been harsh on all of us, and I'm merely concerned about you getting some rest."

"Queen Isabel is right," Huard said. "We shall discuss these matters in the morning and move accordingly, your majesty. I will have food sent for you and the queen."

Peter seemed to be in thought before he silently agreed. He walked over to Isabel and silently motioned her to walk.

She didn't need to be told twice. They walked to their tent in silence, and once inside, Isabel turned to face her husband. "You are planning to attack Vane."

"I thought I told you to stay in the tent," Peter said instead.

"Answer me."

"You didn't ask a question."

"I know you want revenge," Isabel said slowly. "But this is not the right thing to do at the moment."

"Not the right thing?" Peter asked incredulously. "Are you telling me that I should let those murderers run on the loose so they can do whatever they want to disrupt the peace?"

"Of course not! I'm simply telling you to think rationally before you order your men into battle." Isabel replied. "You don't know anything about Vane or his men, except for the fact that they are against you. Come back to the palace with me, get to know your enemy's motives and then attack."

"Last time I checked, you were not my adviser." He said coldly.

"I'm not. But at least go back and discuss the situation with your real advisers first."

"Don't you get it, Isabel? It is very important to crush this rebellion as soon as possible," Peter told her. "If we fail, a wave of unrest will spread throughout Narnia."

"And I'm sure that with proper planning, you will be able to keep it from spreading."

"And for that we have to act as soon as possible," Peter argued. "Besides, I don't want to wait and give them time to get stronger."

Isabel decided to try a new tactic. "Look Peter," she said. "From what we know, Caspian is close to death, Lucy has still not reached home and who knows what Edmund and Susan are going through. They need you, and you should be there for them."

"They are kings and queens of Narnia. They can handle themselves."

"Peter, please, don't –"

"No, Isabel!" Peter was angry now. "I know you don't blame me for it, but I still believe that I'm responsible for the deaths my men and for you. I won't rest until they are punished for what they did. I refuse to rest."

"I don't expect you to rest either, Peter," Isabel pleaded. "But please, please listen to me. I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want you in unnecessary danger. Please come back with me to the palace. Plan it all out and then attack them. I won't stop you, I promise." Peter remained quiet, staring into her eyes. Isabel knew that he was considering what she was saying. "Please... I cannot, I can't... I need you." There. She said it. "I need you with me for now. Don't leave me just yet. Please."

"I won't be able to forgive myself," Peter begged her to understand.

"You will," Isabel told him. "I believe in you, Peter. You are angry, yes, but I know you will not take this unnecessary risk."

He just looked back at her, and she knew that his resolve was breaking. She took a step forward and reached out with a shaky hand. The tips of her fingers brushed his cheek. "Please. Come with me."

Slowly, unwillingly, Peter nodded.

"Thank you." She murmured, lowering her hand.

The two stared at each other for a minute, and then Peter leaned forward tiredly and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. His hands snaked around her waist.

Isabel froze, her body stiffening out of both surprise and fear, though the latter emotion slowly faded away. This was Peter. She trusted Peter. He wouldn't hurt her. He would protect her... But she didn't know why he was moving so close, or what he wanted. She didn't fear him, but what she had endured was painful. She was not sure if she could bear this proximity.

"Thank you." Peter murmured, breaking the silence.

She could feel his breath on her face. "For what? She whispered.

"For keeping me from acting rashly, I suppose." He opened his eyes and looked at her.

He was too close, too close. She needed him to move away, she needed some distance between them. She opened her mouth, hoping to find the right words to make him understand. But before she could say anything, the flap of their tent moved aside and a man came in, carrying a tray of food. Isabel quickly nudged Peter and stepped a few paces away from him.

The man stared at them, apologised, then placed the food on a table and left. A moment of silence passed, then Peter headed towards the table. "Come on." He said. "You must be famished. I know I am."

[][][][][][][]

Caspian entered his room and sighed. No, he won't be able to sleep peacefully tonight. His heart ached, thinking of how Susan ran away from him. She didn't love him. How could he be so foolish? Why would Susan, the Gentle Queen, beautiful and intelligent beyond imagination, love Caspian? To her, he was just a friend – a really good friend, but a friend. She didn't love him…

Caspian banged his head lightly on the door. Why did he kiss her?

A part of his mind went back to the kiss. Even though it did not end well, Caspian had to admit that kissing Susan was different. He had felt as if his entire body was on fire with joy. The feeling of her soft lips –

He should stop thinking about that kiss. He should stop thinking about her. She didn't love him… She didn't return his feelings. But will he ever be able to stop thinking about her?

Caspian smiled sadly. What a ridiculous question!

He would keep on loving her no matter what. His respect for the Gentle Queen would always bloom, whether his feelings are reciprocated or not. Yes, he would love her throughout his life, till the moment he died… and maybe even after that.

But would he be able to face the fact that she didn't love him? What would happen if, one day, Susan chose someone else? Would he be able to accept that? And most importantly, would Susan even talk to him again? Would their relationship ever be the same? If no, then how will he cope with the fact that he had lost his dearest friend?

Questions upon questions upon questions… And there was no one who could give him the answers, except perhaps time.

[][][][][][][]

An anguished cry startled Peter out of his sleep. He sat up, body tense, and reached for his sword just as he scanned the dark interior of the tent. It was late at night and Peter had fallen asleep with his head on the table - he had let Isabel have the cot to herself.

As his eyes accustomed to the darkness, he could see that there did not seem to be an imminent danger inside the tent. Was the campsite attacked then? As he stood up to go and check, another cry pierced the air.

Not an attack. The scream had come from Isabel, and from what he could see, her form seemed to be convulsing.

"Isabel!" He rushed over to the cot, pausing only to light up the candle on the table with a tinderbox. "Isabel, what is it?"

Isabel rolled to her side and curled up into a ball. Tears trailed from the corner of her closed eyes. It took Peter a moment to realise that she was still asleep, and that she was having another nightmare. She let out a whimper. "No, p-please..."

Peter reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. His touch sparked a reaction in her that he hadn't expected. With a scream, she shot up, her arms swinging wildly as she tried to scurry away from him.

"Isabel, stop..." He tried to grab her arms and hold her in place before she hurt either of them. "Stop. It's me."

"Don't touch me!" Her eyes had flown open, but she didn't seem to register what she was doing. "Stay away!"

"Isa-"

"Stay away. No, no, NO!"

Peter could hear movement outside his tent. There was no way Isabel's screams would have gone unnoticed. A few more moments and their guards would definitely barge in. "Isabel, it's me, Peter." He said firmly, hoping she would listen to him. "You need to stop."

Isabel continuously tried to wriggle away from him, her hands and feet shoving and kicking him away. After a moment, he let go. She jumped off the cot, crawled into a corner of the tent, curled up into a ball and started crying. "No. No. No." A painful, never ending chant came from her.

"Your Majesty?" One of his guards called out.

Damn it. Peter thought, then marched out of the tent. "Yes?" He asked, forcing himself to look as normal as possible.

His guards bowed, and then the captain asked. "We heard the queen scream. Is everything alright?"

"Yes." Peter lied smoothly. "The queen was merely distressed. She is alright now."

The guards did not seem to believe him.

"You may return to your post." Peter ordered and then went back inside the tent.

Isabel was still curled up into a tight ball, her body trembling. "No. No. No..." She kept on whispering.

"Isabel." Peter said softly as he started towards her.

She recoiled. "Stay away. Don't touch me!"

"I won't." He promised as he squatted before her, making sure to keep some distance between the two of them. "Please, Isabel. Just, calm down. I'm not going to hurt you."

She rocked back and forth. "He did. He did."

Peter stiffened. He had already guessed what her nightmare had been about, to get a confirmation only angered him. Vane deserved a thousand painful deaths for what he did to her. "It was a nightmare, Isabel. It's over." he tried to calm her down. "You're here with me-"

Isabel's eyes met his. "I'm with him. He is with me..."

"No. I am with you. Me, Peter. " His voice was soft, almost pleading. "Vane is not with you. And I swear, he'll never come near you ever again."

"Liar!" Isabel cried and shoved past him. She stood in the middle of the tent, looking around wildly, her chest heaving. "He's already... He is already here. He will always be here. Between us. With me. O-On me..." She absently fingered the bite mark on the side of her neck. "He's here." She moved her fingers to her lips. "And here." Her nails scratched at her arms. "And here." She placed her hands over her throat and chest. "And here. And, and he's in me. He's inside of me and-"

"Stop it." Peter walked over to her. Seeing her in this state was painful enough, but to hear what she was saying, to hear her recall exactly where and how Vane had touched her... No. He couldn't listen to that. "You need to calm down."

Isabel let out a scream when Peter approached her. "Stay away. Don't hurt me. D-Don't t-touch..." She seemed half mad, looking around with desperation. Her eyes came to rest on the dagger Peter had given her back in the forest.

The High King saw that. Whether she was planning on attacking him, or whether she was thinking of hurting herself, he did not know. What he did know was that he could not let her do either. So, before she could even move towards the weapon, Peter grabbed his wife and held her in place. She instantly started wriggling away, crying and clawing at him.

"Isabel... Don't... STOP!" He shouted as he wrapped his fingers around her wrists in an iron grip. His gaze turned into an icy glare. "Stop this madness right now."

Isabel froze, her lower lip trembling.

"What Vane did to you was barbaric, and I swear I will punish him for it. I'll bring you his head if you want me to, but Isabel, you need to control yourself." Peter said, his voice low but still firm, hoping she would finally listen. "You need to realise that you're safe. No one will ever hurt you again."

She whimpered. "S-Safe?"

"Yes, safe." He said, letting go of her. He was sure that she would not try to run away again. "But Isabel, please, what you just did - this cannot happen again. What you went through... none of it is your fault. You're my wife, you'll always be. But..." Gently, he reached out and placed his hands on her cheeks, his touch as soft as his voice. "But you're also the Queen of Narnia. There is a court that surrounds us, and it comes with its politics and power-plays. If people find out about what happened, it will cause trouble for both of us. No one can know of this, Isabel. Not even my family, not until you and I deem it appropriate. Okay?"

Slowly, Isabel leaned her head against his chest. "Okay." She mumbled in a small voice.

"Okay." Peter breathed, wrapping his arm around her frame. Okay. Okay... But for how long was everything okay?

REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!