Author's Note:I'm sorry this took a while. Terrible writer's block. Plus, I was never satisfied with how it kept turning out, so I kept re-writing it. This is like the tenth draft.

Quote:"She throws herself at him and he fully accepts it!"

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Green-Eyed Monster

Tales of Aceline's victory at the Battle of the River Shribble had spread far and wide, drawing more suitors than she could count from every land, some that she had never even heard of. They gave her a myriad number of gifts, all of which never ceased to dazzle her. Her favorite gift was a dog named Eamon. (He resembled a borzoi.)

But her favorite suitor was His Excellency, the Ambassador William of Galma, who was only three years her senior.

She had met William through Peter, who had invited His Excellency to Cair to renew the treaty of alliance between Narnia and Galma. William was a handsome man with brown hair and green eyes, and was three years older. He always had something witty to say and was a good conversationalist. At this moment, she was eating lunch with Peter and William.

"I thank you for the brooch, your Excellency," Aceline smiled, wearing the said brooch on her gown. It was quite a lovely thing, being in the shape of a rose with amethyst stones and a gold clasp.

"I'm glad you like it, my lady. I have heard that purple is your favorite color," William, who sat next to her, answered.

"Yes, it is. What do you think, Peter?" She turned to look over at the High King, who sat across from them. Peter paused with a fork halfway to his mouth, looking surprised. After a moment, he answered.

"It looks quite nice on you. It matches your eyes." He stuffed the food in his mouth without delay, giving her a strange glance.

"I see you are not wearing your opal necklace this evening," William continued. Her hand flew to her bare neck.

"You've noticed my jewelry?" The ambassador leaned closer to her, so that he could whisper in her ear without Peter overhearing.

"I noticed your neck. Your necklace just happened to be there."

"Oh?" she asked, blushing in spite of herself.

"Oh, yes."

"Wine?" They both jumped slightly and looked at Peter, who wore a slightly strained smile on his face.

"Yes please," Aceline said.

"Thank you, but I'm afraid I must decline. I am not myself when I drink spirits."

"How so, my lord?" Peter grinned.

"It's not something for young ladies to hear," William smiled, while glancing at Aceline.

"I am not like most young ladies, Excellency."

"I can see that!" he laughed.

"Tell us, your Excellence," Peter said eagerly.

"Very well then."

--------

"The ambassador tells the most funny stories, doesn't he?" Aceline asked, as she and Peter entered her room after lunch. The High King didn't answer; instead, he simply glowered at the mention of William. She could read Peter better than any of the Pevensies and immediately sensed that something was wrong.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just quite funny to see you flirting with William."

"I was not flirting with him."

"No, you were just laughing at his jokes, saying witty things to him - "

"I laughed because they were funny," she began, indignant, "and if you must know, I said the first things that popped into my head, whether they were witty or not. Now, what's up with you?" Peter, whose face had gone red at this point, opened and closed his mouth several times before finally answering.

"I just don't like the way he looks like. As if you were a piece of candy that he would love to eat." She snorted in an unladylike way.

"First of all, if he ever tried anything improper, we'd be at war with Galma because I hurt their ambassador. Second, you have nothing to worry about."

"Just be careful, all right? Don't do anything rash."

"When have I done anything rash, Pete? Don't answer that," she added quickly as he opened his mouth. He grinned at her and pressed his lips to her knuckles.

"Sorry I'm such a worrier."

"Forgiven."

--------

There were many young ladies in the court who flirted with the High King. Their attempts were in vain, yet she hated them all, for the High King always behaved cordially to them. But the one who she hated the most was the prettiest of all of them. She had long locks of wavy brown hair and green eyes. She was witty, charming, intelligent and everything that she wasn't.

Her name? Lady Belladonna Boleyn.

She glowered at the pair, her purple eyes blazing behind her white satin mask. The Narnians were holding a masquerade, which had been an idea of Lucy's. The silk laces that kept her mask on tumbled on to her back, becoming lost in the lace and satin and silk that she wore. And yet, as stunning as she looked, no one looked at her. All eyes were on Belladonna (and Susan, of course). The brunette looked beautiful with her green gown and black gloves and mask.

"Why so angry, Ace?" Susan appeared, dressed regally in purple and lavender. There was a questioning look on her face.

"Look at her!" she fumed softly. "She throws herself at him and he fully accepts it!"

Susan looked bewildered. "Who?"

"Peter and that whore, Belladonna." The Queen stared at her for a moment, tilting her head to the side.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" she asked.

"Yes, I think I do," Aceline answered, her brow furrowing.

"You can tell me in your boudoir," Susan said. "Let's go now." They walked towards the door, curtsying to those who acknowledged them. Lucy popped out of nowhere, her gold and blue skirt swirling around her ankles.

"Where are you going?" she asked, looking up at them.

"You might as well here this as well, Lu," Aceline said. The three quickly left, and made their way to Aceline's apartments.

"What are you going to tell us?" Lucy asked, plopping down onto the loveseat.

"Something about Peter," Susan answered.

"Yes, something about him." She nervously played with the folds of her dress. Then, she pulled off her mask. "I - I love him." There was a moment of silence. Then -

Lucy squealed in delight while Susan jumped up and down, twirling with her mask in her hands. Lucy whipped her mask off her face with an impateint tug, threw it on the ground and hugged Aceline. She asked, "Are you going to tell him?"

"No, of course not!" she exclaimed, shocked.

"Why not?" Susan demanded.

"What if he doesn't feel the same way?" Aceline asked. "I'm not going to make a fool of myself. And it'll ruin our friendship!"

"But I'm sure he feels the same way," Lucy said, sitting next to her.

"He was absolutely annoyed when you received more suitors than usual," Susan added, sitting on the other side.

Her heart leapt. "Really?"

"You should've heard him raving," Lucy answered. She then imitated his voice. "'That William fellow will have her swooning when she let's him. Mark my words, we'll get suitors everyday as soon as she's eighteen.' He cares for you."

"Have you noticed that you're the only one whom he allows to call him 'Pete'?"

Honestly, she hadn't noticed this. But before she could answer, Susan said, "Let's go back to the mask before we're missed. Lu, could you tie on my mask?"

The younger Queen nodded and began to tie on the purple laces.

"Lucy, your braid is coming undone," Aceline commented.

"And Aceline's flowers are starting to dry," Susan remarked.

"And Susan's glove is stained," Lucy added. The three looked at each other before they started to giggle.

"Perhaps it was a good idea to come here," Aceline giggled. "Could you imagine if we were still at the masquerade?"

"Mortifying," Susan answered, with a chuckle of her own. She was placing a marigold in Lucy's hair while she plaited it. "What will I do with my gloves?"

"You may borrow a pair of mine," the Princess said, producing a pair of purple satin with white pearl buttons. "You can't dance without gloves."

"That reminds me!" Lucy said. "Lady Charlotta wishes for us to dance the quadrille."

"Let's go, then," Aceline said. "Lest she get in a mood." The Queens nodded wisely.

Lady Charlotta was Belladonna's mother and rather like her daughter. She was clever and it was said that if she favored you, you would be set for life. If she found you wanting in any way, you were immediately shunned. Lady Charlotta was more demanding than Belladonna. She was not to be tried with.

So perhaps it was no surprise when she looked slightly peeved at them.

"Lady Charlotta," Susan murmured, the other two following her curtsy. "You wish for us to dance the quadrille?"

"Yes," Lady Charlotta answered, with a nod. She gestured to a girl beside her, perhaps around fifteen or sixteen. "My daughter, Arsenica, has yet to learn to dance it. And she does better by watching instead of doing it."

"Of course," Lucy said. "I'll go look for my brothers."

"No need, Lu," Edmund's voice answered. Behind him were Peter and Belladonna. "We're right here."

"I'll dance with Edmund, Lucy can dance with Mr. Tumnus and Peter..." Susan trailed off as she glanced at Aceline.

"I'll dance with Aceline," Peter said, grinning at the girl.

"And Belladonna?" Lucy asked. There was silence, in which Edmund gestured to a man.

"Sir Henry," he said, "perhaps you could dance with the lovely Lady Belladonna?" Henry nodded, smiling at Belladonna, who smiled back.

A quadrille was strung up, and by some strange stroke of luck, Aceline and Peter were chosen as the head couple for their group. Around them, other groups danced, the occasional giggle escaping a silly girl.

"You disappeared," Peter whispered to her.

"You noticed," she whispered back.

"Of course I did," he answered, a bit too loudly, making a few people stare.

"I'm sorry, I just thought you were too busy to notice," Aceline said. She could feel Peter looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"What's up, Ace?" he asked, a frown on his face.

"Nothing. I'll tell you one day, maybe."

"When have we never told each other anything, Aceline? I tell you everything."

"Everything?"

Peter was quiet for a moment, eyeing her carefully. His cheeks had become slightly pink and his eyes bore into her face.

"Yes, everything."

--------

"Oh, it's lovely!"

These words, uttered by the Princess, were the firstt words said as she and the siblings dismounted from their horses, taking in the beauty of Cauldron Pool. Aceline thought her surroundings were heavenly. The water was a clear blue, the grass was an emerald green and the trees were a dark brown. And the flowers! Violets and roses, lilies and daisies, and bluebells and marigolds of all different colors. Lucy lightly touched a rose, when it bloomed in her hand. "Oh!"

"It's beautiful," Susan commented softly, placing a violet in her hair. "It's so...peaceful."

"It is, isn't it?" Edmund said, plopping down at the base of apple tree.

"Yes," Aceline announced happily, running her fingers over the rough edges of the tree bark. "Perfect place to draw." She sat under a tree and placed her sketchbook on her lap. Edmund and his sisters amused themselves by playing in the pool. Peter decided to lay under a tree, where none of them bothered him. (It had been a rather stressful week for the High King.)

Aceline sketched the High King lying down, noticing the small details about him - the way his hair got into his face, the way his shirt fitted his muscles, the way his pants -

But she colored up as she thought and hastily added a few lines to the sketch. Finally satisfied, she went over to Peter and sat beside him. He opened one eyes, grinned at her and sat beside him. He took the sketch and his smile widened.

"How well you draw!" he laughed, with unusual merriment. "Yes, that's me."

"As you are now. You're usually active."

"I've been terribly stressed all week."

"I've noticed."

There was silence as the two watched Peter's siblings playing in the pool. Aceline laid down on the grass, watching as a breeze blew the leaves off of a tree. The High King stretched out beside her. A sudden question popped into her head.

"Peter?"

"Yes?"

"Do you remember anything before Narnia?"

Peter gave her a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"I've felt like we always haven't lived here. I can remember a man with white hair and a beard to match. He spoke to us - Susan, you and me - but I've never seen him here. And I'm sure he's alive."

"The queerest thing," Peter answered. "I remember the man too. Is that what had you troubled?"

"That and other things," Aceline mumbled.

"Still keeping secrets, are we? I tell you mine, I have a right to yours."

"Oh, do you? What's this I hear about you and Belladonna?" She tapped him smartly on the head with her pencil.

"She's a most congenial girl," he replied shortly.

"You like her?" she asked.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

--------

"You love her, you know it!"

Edmund's voice drifted towards her in that empty corridor. Fortunately, it was in one of the more deserted parts of the castle. Aceline halted at the door, knowing that she shouldn't listen, but curious all the same.

"Quiet down, will you? Someone could hear you!"

"You're in denial, Peter."

"I am not!"

"You just proved it."

"That doesn't prove anything."

"Oh, but it does. You love her, you want her more than anything else - "

"I don't!"

"Stop denying it! You spend all your time with her, you talked with her at the ball, you pratically glued your eyes to her!"

The Princess, by now, had covered her mouth with her hand, and had tears in her eyes. You see, she had misinterpreted the conversation the brothers had said. She assumed Peter loved Belladonna. But I'm sure you, dear reader, can figure who Edmund was talking about. As she assumed incorrectly, she began to run towards her chambers. Her black hair whipped behind her as her padded feet fell against the floor. Tears slid down her cheeks. She bumped into the Queens along the way.

"Aceline - " Susan said, stopping as she noticed her full eyes.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked, touching her shoulder.

"N - Nothing," she whispered back and ran, ignoring their yells to come back.

In her room, she threw herself onto her bed, just as she had done so many other times. She didn't cry out loud; she was a Lady-Knight and a Princess and knew better than that.

"Highness?"

She looked up and saw Thalia, her chief maid of honor. She was a Dryad, her tree being a lime tree. Thalia was the one Aceline had confided in ever since Lucylita died. She was a bit unlike most nymphs, being much more carefree, but loyal as a person could ever be. Right now, she ran to her side.

"What is it?" she asked, a concerned frown on her smooth green face.

"May I ask you something?" the Princess said, ignoring the question.

Thalia nodded.

"Why does it always seem that men always appear strong while women seem weak? Men never cry. And it's only if some ground-shattering event happens."

"Your Highness, if I may, men do not always appear strong. They are even weak."

"At what?"

"Temptation."

"How do you know?" As soon as the question escaped her, unbidden images entered her mind. She imagined a man succumbing to the temptations of a woman and her cheeks grew hot.

Thalia sensed her discomfort, for she patted her hand. "Do not be embarrased, my lady. I know of one festival that highlights the weaknesses of men."

"What?"

"The Aphrodisiac. I shall take you tomorrow."