Author's Note: Thanks for all of the reviews! I hope this chapter makes up for the last two short ones. It's longer that I expected.

HSMlover4ever: She'll be around eighteen when she goes back. I know, long wait, but a bit important to the plot.
Queen Emily the Wise: I'm not exactly sure what I'm going to change about your character. If I finally decide, I'll let you know.

Aceline's current age: Fifteen

Quote from Chapter: "This is amazing. You have a talent, you know."

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Princess's Talent

When one usually finds their talent, the discovery usually has something to do with the talent. For example, if you are talented at music, you might make this discovery in a music room or at a dance. One would never find this out while tripping over a cart.

Ironically enough, this is how Aceline found hers.

She stepped out of store, holding a package that held two dresses inside. Her hair was tied up with white satin ribbon, the tails trailing in her hair. She wore a light summer dress, the hem hanging an inch above the ground, showing off her new, soft, black flats. The Princess loved being in Narrowhaven. There was always the call of the merchants, the sound of laughter and chatting and the tinkling of coins. She waved at a passing merchant, who was closing up for the day, and fell over a cart, due to her carelessness. Her parcel flew out of her hand and she landed on her knees, promptly dirtying her skirt.

Aceline stumbled to get up, trying to wipe the dirt off her dress. She groaned at the large stain that stood out on the white silk. She bent down to pick up her parcel when she stopped and looked at the cart. About half a dozen paintings were on it. The Princess picked up her package and walked over to it. Unconsciously, she picked one up.

It depicted a knight in shining armor, standing triumphant on a cliff, overlooking a vast field. His sword was held aloft. There was something commanding in the knight's blue-eyed gaze. His stance was regal, his features handsome. The sun was setting behind him, casting rays of ruby red, bright orange and saffron yellow around him. She let her fingers trail over his blond hair. There was something vaguely familiar about him...Her purple eyes ran over the knight's physique.

He seemed too perfect and not one bit human.

"What are you doing with that painting, missy?!" Aceline jumped and whirled around, clutching both parcel and painting. A man was walking towards hers. He looked middle-aged and was perhaps of Galmian descent. He stalked up to her and she was overwhelmed with the scent of tobacco smoke and something airy.

"I - I was just looking at it," she stammered out. She placed it on the cart hurriedly.

"Haven't you been brought up properly? Don't you know not to touch things that don't belong to you, eh?" he demanded. She nodded fervently. Her palms were starting to sweat as she took two steps back.

"Hey! Finlay! What do you think you're doing, mate? Do you know who you're talking to?" This new voice sounded familiar to her. She saw a stately-looking lord walking towards her. Aceline covered her mouth in shock.

It was the Lord Keagan Salom.

His black hair was slightly shorter than she remembered. His aqua eyes looked wiser, but still had a mischievous sparkle to them. He had a mustache, which suited him well, despite the fact that he wasn't even in his thirties.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing to her. She curtseyed, grinning at the shocked expression on Finlay's face.

"Please forgive me, Your Highness," he mumbled, bending into a low bow. "I - I had no idea..."

"That's quite alright," she smiled. She gestured towards the painting. "Who is that?"

"Why, it's a painting of the High King as he is now," the Lord Keagan said. Aceline's eyes grew wide as she studied the portrait. So this was Peter after two years?, she thought.

"Is there something wrong?" Finlay asked.

"He looks too perfect. Nothing like the Peter I know," she answered. "The artist made him magnificent, which he is, but he just doesn't look human. The Peter I know is protective and sensible, brave and vulnerable. Sometimes even a prat that rushes into things." The lord started to laugh at this comment while the Galmian looked shocked.

"Please don't act surprised, Finlay. Peter's human like the rest of us. He has his weaknesses." She stared at the painting once more with half-closed eyes. She had almost forgotten how handsome Peter was. Finlay's voice brought her out of her reverie.

"If Her Majesty could draw King Peter, how would she picture him?"

"Do you have a pencil and paper perhaps?" she asked. The Lord Keagan produced them out of nowhere. She took them with a word of thanks. The Princess sat on the cart and began to sketch.

Aceline didn't copy the Peter that was in the painting. Instead, she used the one from her memory, the one she knew when she was thirteen. Somehow, the High King's siblings found their way into the picture. Her hand went back and forth on the paper. There was no color in it, but she managed to capture Lucy's vibrant physique, Edmund's quiet smile, Susan's reserved stance and Peter's protective gaze. She gave the pencil back to the Archenlander and showed them the drawing.

It depicted the Kings and Queens having a simple lunch. Lucy was on Peter's lap, her lips parted in a laugh that could never be heard. Edmund had his hand under his chin, his eyes half-closed with sleep, but a small smile on his freckled face. Susan was leaning back in a chair, her hands folded together on her lap, looking demure and motherly as always. Peter was looking at his siblings with a brotherly fondness, his expression contrasting with the fierce protectiveness in his eyes.

Finlay gaped at the drawing, his forehead creased in amazement. The Lord Keagan smiled at it, taking it from her hands.

"You are quite good," he said, obviously impressed. She blushed, for she had never thought she was good at drawing. She simply looked down at her lap, pretending to be interested in the large stain that still adorned her dress.

"You should think about taking lessons, Your Majesty," Finlay said with a nod. "You could improve. Not that you need it." Aceline looked up and smiled, pleased with his words.

The Galmian's words stuck in her mind, even after he went back to Galma with the Lord Keagan a week later. She took to sketching random things around the castle: a vase with a withering rose; a dozen of apples freshly picked from the apple tree; Felicity making her bed in the early morning; and Lucylita and Filia laughing at a joke that the cook told.

Carrying around paper and pencils soon became her idiosyncrasy. Her favorite place to draw was under the apple tree. She liked the spot, for it was secluded and whenever she was in need of a snack, she could simply pick an apple and eat it. She was just finishing her sketch of Filia's father, Ames, horseback riding with his daughter when an idea came to her. The Pevensies wanted to see what the Lone Islands were like. So why not sketch it for them? As Aceline thougth about it, the more she liked the idea.

The Princess drew everything and anything that appealed to her. The beach, the castle, the village, the docks - anything. The envelope she enclosed her next letter in was nearly as thick as her arm.

Dear Lucy, Edmund, Susan and Peter,

I know you've wanted to see the islands since I first described them to you. There's some sketches that I did in the envelope so you can see them. Nothing interesting has happened to me. Well, except for the fact that I've become good at drawing. I'll leave you to judge. Strangely enough, I like dressing up now and choosing dresses when I'm out in the village. (Ah, I can already here Peter and Edmund groaning.) Don't worry, I'm not going to become picky and girly, Ed. Far from it.

Sorry this letter is so short. I've been really busy and swamped with work.

With love,
Aceline

Aceline, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, soon began to wish for a teacher. Someone who could help her improve. Aslan seemed to hear her prayers, for he sent her an angel in the form of Felicity.

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One day, precisely three months since her encounter with Finlay and the Lord Keagan, Felicity caught her sketching the horizon. She had captured the reflection of the setting sun on the blue of the ocean. The maid looked at the drawing, her red eyebrows raised. Aceline prepared herself for a lecture. Lately, Felicity had made it her unofficial responsibility to make the Princess as ladylike as possible by the time she was eighteen.

The redhead took one look at the drawing and smiled, to the the amazement of the fifteen-year-old.

"This is amazing. You have a talent, you know," she said approvingly. The black-haired girl sagged in her chair, her mouth slightly opened in amazement. She had been so sure that Felicity would lecture her, that the fact that she didn't left her dumbstruck.

"I thought you would disapprove," she croaked. She simply smiled.

"Drawing is a sign of an accomplished lady." Aceline titled her head slightly to the right, thinking about the uttered statement. Her eyes were half-closed with the thought. Part of her - the rebellious teenager part - wanted to give up drawing forever if it was going to turn her into a prim lady. The other part - the sophisticated teenager part - wanted to continue in hopes of making something of herself.

In the end, the sophistacted part won.

"Your Majesty, I need you to get dressed," Felicity said, coming up to her a few days later. Aceline nodded, staring at her friend and servant curiously. She had been sketching her bedroom in her nightgown when the redhead had approached her.

A few minutes later, Aceline was following Felicity through one of the more secluded streets of Narrowhaven. She wore a blue muslin skirt and a simple cotton blouse. Around her shoulders was a rayon cloak of the same blue as the skirt. The Princess had no idea where she was being taken to.

A moment later, her unasked question was answered.

Felicity knocked on the door of a two-floor cottage flat. It was answered by a strict-looking woman with graying hair. There was no poetry, no emotion in the weathered face. Nothing except for in her eyes. They were the clearest green with, upon closer inspection, silver flecks in them. Aceline suddenly wished she had brought a spare piece of paper and her pencils, so she could have drawn the eyes. But then, as she realized years later, she would've never gotten them right.

"Good morning, Iris," the redhead said, dipping into a polite curtsey. Aceline stumbled as she did likewise.

"It's a bit early, isn't it, Felicity?" Iris asked, leaning slightly on the door.

"I know," was the reply. "But I have finally found someone worthy of your teaching." The Princess stood there, dumbstruck, her hands pressed together as the older woman looked at her with a critical eye. Finally, Iris straightened herself.

"Come in," she said, gesturing towards the inside. She followed her maid inside, keeping close to the redhead.

The inside was airy and every window seemed to be open, letting light pour into the rooms. Aceline followed the two older females up a wooden staircase. There were only two rooms here. They stepped into the one on their right. Her mouth dropped open as she observed her surroundings.

Pots, all different size and shape, were on the floor and on some of the tables, containing different colored paints. She peered into the closest one. This one held a vibrant gold that she was sure would match Artymis's eyes with perfection. Easels were set up in different spaces of the room. Brushes were grouped according to their style. Aceline looked out the window, her purple eyes sparkling with new-found enthusiasm. She was staring at the sunlight that reflected off the rooftops.

This time, she didn't wait to draw. She dashed to the stack of paper, took four sheets and walked to where the pencils were. She tapped the end of one thoughtfully to her cheek as she studied the glare of the sun off the houses. She judged that she would need to start with the brown and indian red pencils first, if she wanted to draw the shingles. She sketch the outline and erased a number of times. Finally, when she was satisfied, she began to color it in.

Aceline glanced up only once and she received a shock. Felicity was handing a drawing that the Princess had done of the village to Iris. The elderly woman took it, her thin, gray eyebrows raising slightly. The fifteen-year-old paused, a black pencil poised in mid-air. She sucked in her breath and turned back to her drawing, sweat beginning to develop on her forehead. Would Iris accept her as her pupil? Her hands began to shake. What if she didn't? Would she ever improve?

"I'll take her." Aceline's eyes snapped to the woman, who was shaking hands with Felicity. Relief washed over the girl. Iris walked over to her, her expression impassive. She looked over Aceline's shoulder and looked at the drawing. Nervousness replaced her sudden relief. She waited in the unnerving silence. Finally, she nodded, impressed.

"Aceline, come here on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I'll see you tomorrow," she said. (Today was Tuesday.) She nodded, curtseying to her. She made to pick up the drawing, but Iris said to leave it.

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The weeks went by, and Aceline soon learned that Iris was a strict, but fair, woman. She didn't seem to care that she was the Princess.

"Princess or not, you still have to prove yourself," the stern woman once told her. Aceline found herself trying to prove that she could make something of herself. She began to care about dress now. What colors she looked best in, which ones she looked horrible in, which ones clashed, which ones didn't.

The Princess started on sketching, experimenting with shadow and light. She loved drawing with the pencils. Some created sharp lines while other made dramatic lines. Iris would teach her how to balance the shadow with the light.

Then she moved onto painting.

Her favorite brush was a small, round one. It was perfect if you wanted to add detail to something. Her latest portrait was one of the docks. A small smile found its way onto her lips. She was sitting on a stool, the hem of her green dress hanging three inches from the floor. Her black hair was pulled back with a black, taffeta ribbon. She observed her work and creases formed on her forehead. The ocean just didn't look blue enough and there was something wrong with one of the ship's rigging. She replaced the round brush with the rigger brush and fixed the mistake.

"Ah, very nice, Aceline. I'm impressed," Iris said, an hour later. These words rarely came out of the elderly woman's mouth. She was seldom impressed with any of her work.

"Thank you," was the pleased reply. She settled into a studious attitude, her hand moving back and forth across the easel. Iris seemed to be pleased with this new-found fervor. She patted the girl on the back and left the room, probably going to fix lunch.

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Dear Aceline,

You've gotten better at drawing! I'm impressed. It seems that finding your talent made Lucy, Ed and Susan try to find theirs. Ed and Lu figured out theirs already. Lucy's developed this knack for storytelling. And Edmund's becoming quite this good singer. Susan's driving me insane with trying to figure out hers.

I've already find out mine - it's horseback riding and swordfighting, which now, come to think of it, doesn't count as a talent seeing as you can do it, too. Oh well, hope I find mine.

Sincerely,
Peter

The Princess smiled as she read the letter. There were a dozen of sketches on her lap. These were much better than the ones she had done when she had been a novice. She added a few lines to one and folded the rest into the envelope. Then she began to write her letter. (She usually wrote one to the whole family and then wrote four to each of them, just as they did with her.)

Dear Peter,

Inside are some sketches that I did. I say, Iris is a good teacher. But she is a strict one.

I'm glad Ed and Lu have figured out theirs. Don't worry, you'll find out yours. You're a good strategist. Maybe it has something to do with planning battles. You're charismatic enough.

So you finally admit that I'm as good as you at horseback riding and swordfighting, eh? No, just kidding, didn't mean to sound conceited. Hope to see you soon. Well, when Aslan wants it, that is.

Your friend,
Aceline

She put her quill down when she was suddenly struck with inspiration. She remembered the portrait of Peter on the cart. She had been taught to draw things that she could see with her eyes. Why not draw something that she could see with her mind? She searched in her mind for the memory. She finally found it and her hand started to move on the paper. She erased it numerous times, proclaiming with the occasional grunt that it wasn't right. She finally threw her pencil down, her arms folded in disgust at the failure.

Why couldn't she get it right? A guttural sound escaped her lips. She observed the outline she had made of the High King and finally found her problem. She was trying so hard to impress him that she had tried to make him into something he wasn't.

Too perfect and not one bit human.

She tried again, this time making him more boy, less King. She reveled in her success half an hour later. Aceline let her fingers run over his blond hair and smiled. She folded the drawing and tucked it in the envelope. She leaned back, her head resting on the apple tree's trunk.

It had been nearly six months since she had seen that portrait. Who knows if she had gotten it right?

If you're wondering, yes, she did get it right. Wow, I just found out something weird about myself. It took me a shorter time to post this chapter than the last one. I'm really weird.

Anyway, review guys!

OCs Used:
Lord Keagan Salom - airnchik 128