Disclaimer: I do not own Narnia, nor do I own any other of C.S. Lewis's fine creations.

Author's Note: Here it is, Chapter Four, masterfully entitled "The Banquet". Perhaps a bit longer and more eventful than past chapters. You shall once again meet a new character, officially meet Queen Anea, and get to know Steiphen a little more. Still not action-y, I know, but the time will come! Suspense is building. All right, enough talking. Enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~Chapter Four: The Banquet~

The banquet on the following Wednesday was nothing to behold for young Miraz. He had been to dozens of others before, and knew what the whole idea of a banquet was: not eating, but dodging. Dipping and diving your way around long-legged lords and boisterous barons and laughing ladies was nearly the whole banquet experience, especially when you were as small as Miraz. It became quite tedious after awhile because in a sea of noblemen and women, you can never find the table until the dinner bell rings.

So Miraz milled his way around the monarchs, blending in with the colorful tunics, for he donned a navy shirt with a laced collar. The many guests were mingling, socializing loudly and of course, laughing. The jester playing the hornpipe in the corner could barely be heard, though Miraz did hear a few shrill notes from a nearby piccolo.

"Pardon me. Excuse me, madam. Oh, sorry, sir!" Miraz squeezed through the crowd, offering an apology whenever he elbowed a lord or trotted on a maiden's silk train. He kept his head down, so no one could see that it was Prince Miraz, and to avoid anyone noticing his healing scars.

He finally spotted his father and Caspian, standing by the great oak table that Miraz had struggled to find. The two stood side-by-side, Caspian pridefully showing off a bronze circlet on his golden head. His father was garbed in a thick red robe with gold embroidery down the collar, trellising with intricate, flowery designs. Fops, the pair of them, Miraz thought.

Miraz's mother, Anea, stood by them as well, a pale hand resting on Caspian's shoulder, her nearly-translucent eyes scanning the crowds. She was referred to by many as a tapestry angel: silent and beautiful. The former Baroness of a small establishment in the mountains, the Western beauty was courted a dozen times before marrying the Telmarine Prince of Narnia, Caspian the Eighth. In her silence, she had never told a soul if she had married for riches or for love, but she seemed content in her life as a queen.

But presently the infamous youth Sir Steiphen approached the king, first acknowledging Anea politely and then kneeling before King Caspian, kissing the monarch's ring. The army commander stuck out like a peasant among princes in his plain attire. A man of military and not of substance, Steiphen was not wearing the frippery of a gaudy nobleman, only traditional Telmarine chain mail.

"Your good majesty," he spoke after but a short pause, "it is my honor to introduce to you Lady Elizabeth."

And suddenly appearing behind Steiphen was a small, delicate figure, slim and short, swathed to the neck in ruby velvet. She had a porcelain face that was powdered so as to make her look like a clean piece of linen. Two of the bluest eyes Miraz had ever seen peeked out from intricate brows and hovered over an up-turned, aristocratic nose. Strawberry-blond hair was tied back in a neat braid, not a thread of the glistening locks out of place. She was no different from the lot of them - a proud, arrogant aristocrat.

She bowed regally and rather tom boyishly, for ladies, if they suited themselves as dignified, would curtsy and leave bowing for the men. But her high chin showed that she was indeed superior.

"Your majesty." Her voice was clear and crystalline: Miraz also sensed some ice in it. She glanced briefly at him and he cast his eyes downward.

"I am obliged to make your acquaintance, Lady Elizabeth." The king smiled.

She lifted her hand to cough. Miraz noticed a ropey scar looped around her pale right hand, large and grotesque against such papery skin. The strange scar went unnoticed by the king.

Elizabeth returned the smile thinly. "As am I, your majesty." She slipped her scarred arm through the crook of Sir Steiphen's elbow. They strolled away, murmuring curtly to one another.

Miraz watched the pair dissolve into the crowd. They are very much alike, he thought. Both are mysterious, and of noble blood, though she seems to bear herself more regally than he. The prince snorted inwardly. A happy couple to be sure, if ever they were to marry.

He then noticed an object, so small but so powerful to the eye, so shocking to behold.

On the pale left ring finger of the fair young Elizabeth was a simple band of gold, thin as a reed straw but easy to spot against her white hand. A simple sign that she and Sir Steiphen were betrothed and would soon probably be wed.

The banquet lasted another two hours, including the feast itself and a good bit of hornpipe-music, ballad-singing, and dancing. It was menial for Miraz, but for all of the lords it was as if they had never been to one. Elizabeth did not seem so energetic, and Miraz guessed, in her being so aristocratic, that she had been to plenty. She was always hovering in the shadow of Steiphen and often talked to him, but at one point during a hornpipe-and-lute ballad, she milled about alone, figure-eighting round the pillars and remaining solitary.

"My good Prince Miraz." Said a young voice behind the Prince. Miraz turned to see Steiphen standing there, hands behind his back and chin high—Miraz was rather reminded of Elizabeth (or did Elizabeth remind him of Steiphen?).

"Commander." Miraz said simply, looking up at the tall Commander.

"Your father told you the news, I wager?"

Miraz nodded.

"Have you an opinion of it?"

Miraz was stricken. Yes, he very well did have an opinion. He did not want to be squired to Steiphen and live as his shadow until his next coming of age, in at least ten years.

"I—"

"Your father informed me that you were very much obliged." Steiphen's eyes almost became threatening. "Am I right in believing this?"

Miraz briefly clenched his teeth within his lips, avoiding the intent gaze of the commander. Finally, he said coolly, "Yes, I did tell my father that I was very much obliged, sir."

"And is that the truth?"

"—yes."

Steiphen nodded. "Good. You will become a fine knight." He left swiftly and awkwardly, as if in search of Elizabeth.

Braggart, Miraz thought impudently as he left.

TO BE CONTINUED