Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis does.

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Lucy bounced around the Great Hall of Cair Paravel between the four thrones of old and around the balcony which overlooked the splendid sea, which today was calm and contented, crooning softly and murmuring into the world. The gentle breeze swept over it lightly caressing Lucy's face. She closed her amber-brown eyes, her long eye lashes fluttering against the wind.

She laughed loudly, a sound which echoed freely around the castle, lighting up every corner. Fauns, squirrels and other talking animals which passed her looked affectionately at their beloved young queen. She waved to them, each one. And they felt no shame in waving back.

It was then she noticed her closest friend, Mr. Tumnus. He was scurrying on his furry hooves holding three packages. He wore a familiar red scarf. He had the same expression he had on the day they had first met. Lucy laughed again at the memory and gestured him over. He smiled politely.

'My queen.' Bowing low, he dropped all the packages he was carrying. Lucy knelt down hastily covering her mouth, holding up the fallen packages. 'Oh my, oh my! How clumsy of me!'

As she straightened her glance spread over the Throne Room. Preparations for the dawning wedding were in full swing. Aslan had decreed that the wedding take place next week and the servants worked like mad to make everything ready. There was cleaning, cooking, washing and other chores to be done and the people of Narnia were thrilled to hear of the upcoming wedding ceremony.

Finally the High King was getting married. Handsome, charming and dashing man and a fierce, alluring warrior, a knight of Aslan himself, High King over all kings and queens, High King Peter the Magnificent was getting married! True many young maidens of neighbouring countries were burning with acid hate and poisoning envy and the naiads and dryads were dismayed and distraught but in general the people were excited and delighted.

Susan hurried past them, tossing directions to all around her, her cheeks flushed prettily from exhaustion and tiredness. The pale tone of her skin only enhanced her stunning appearance and Lucy was sure many people were more interested in Susan than the wedding. She scowled sharply as she glanced at the list in her hands.

'Lucy!' she called. Lucy made a funny face to her dear friend before turning to her elder sister who just now was annoyed and irritated beyond belief.

'Yes, Su?'

'The guests will start arriving the day after tomorrow. I want you to make sure that they have pleasurable company if we are busy in the preparations. One week!' she muttered to herself. 'One week only! What was Aslan thinking? We have so much to do….decorations, refreshments, dresses, arrangements, guests…..'

She strode away, walking swiftly down the hall throwing instructions here and there. Lucy stared after her, amused. Mr. Tumnus walked beside her.

'It is sure to be a hectic week. Queen Susan is absolutely worried that things will not be complete.'

Lucy laughed dismissing the sentence.

'Susan tends to be worried always. But in the end, the events supervised by her stand out over the lands!'

Both of them laughed and Mr. Tumnus nodded brightly.

'You are correct, Lucy.'

Lucy glanced around, a puzzled frown on her fair face.

'But where are my brothers? They should be here to help us!'

'The kings are in the Orchid of Swanwhite. Something about practicing and having fun.'

'Ah. I see.' Lucy nodded smiling. 'I'd better go and see what they are up to. Good bye, Mr. Tumnus.'

She waved at him as she wove through the flurry of talking beasts. She saw a slight wave of a handkerchief which then disappeared in the crowd. Lucy skipped merrily down the halls, turning around the exquisitely decorated corridors and passages. Finally she exited the castle making her way over the well mowed grass, breathing in the scent of the freshly cut grass.

The Orchid of Queen Swanwhite had been built during the reign of Queen Swanwhite but during Jadis's reign it had been completely destroyed. Therefore Susan had taken it upon herself to rebuild it and now it was a place where foreign visitors to Narnia loved to stroll around.

The orchid lay in the shadow of slender poplar trees which swayed with the breeze. There was only one way to move through the orchid, otherwise no one could enter it. A covered, lone passage stretched over the orchid supported by poles carved with battles of the old ages including the First Battle of Beruna. It looked out on both sides at the luscious orchid.

Myrtle bushes glowing purple and pale pink covered the perimeter of the garden and beneath them there were lime green bushes trimmed and neatly cut which towered over different exotic flowers from various areas of Narnia. Blood red roses grew thickly under the near the bushes and at the other end of the orchid there were sun yellow, hot pink and orange-red tulips shivering and dancing. In the very middle there was a raised platform surrounded by clear, pale diamond-like water. To get to the raised ground one had to step across the stone steps and once there they would enter into a new garden, one more beautiful than the previous with wooden benches at various places to sit down and relax. But Susan had made sure that the old orchid was not forgotten and remains of a mystical stone fountain and various half broken pillars remained.

Lucy followed the sound of clashing swords to a small clearing in the midst of the garden especially for training. She stood silently and watched her brothers locked in combat, their blades swishing and sliding. She stared with admiration, the deadly dance with an eerie grace and a perfection which could determine life or death for the swordsman. Peter wove around, his long, well muscled body tense and his cat-like eyes blue. Edmund in comparison was lean, thin and reasonably tall but he was a true match for Peter with his ability to attack without warning and his impenetrable defence. Peter was a master at offensive attack; on the battlefield he was merciless and emotionless to the tyrants and the oppressors, he could attack from any angle and his lethal blow never missed. But Edmund was not one to lose easily. His flawless defences had no known weak point and he had the power to attack without a single warning. He too was a great planner than much was proven by his calculated tactics.

Finally they stopped, breathing hard, perspiration running down their frowning foreheads, eyes narrowed, bodies tense and faces blank. She watched fascinated until Edmund broke the spell.

'You don't have to spy on us, Lu. We know how much you admire our excellent combat skills. Mine in particular.'

His arrogance was his fault and in that instant Peter brought his whole weight down upon his brother sending his tumbling to the ground.

'You were saying?' he grinned triumphantly. Edmund scowled.

'Not fair!' he grumbled. 'Lucy distracted me!'

'Oh do stop grumbling about your defeat, Ed!' Lucy called out, practically flying towards her brothers, and giving them both a breathless hug.

'Why are you here, Lu?' Edmund pouted.

'Oh, I was tired of watching only poor Su work for the wedding. I thought I'd come and tell you to help her too.'

'Where is Lia?' Edmund asked as they made their way through gardens.

'She is ill and so Susan told her to rest and not dare to get up. She tried to persuade Susan that she was not that ill but Su would not hear of it.'

'Oh. I guess she is overcome by having to marry Peter and not me.' Peter punched him on the shoulder.

'Shut up, Ed.'

'Alright. Alright! No need to get so touchy. She's yours only. Ow!'

'I said shut up, Ed'

'Fine. You never let me have any fun.' He said sulking. Peter did not answer and Lucy felt misery course through her. Oh Peter. Why won't you understand?

As if he had heard her, Peter tried to smile but she could see it was forced.

'Don't worry, Lu. I'm fine. At east I hope I'm fine.'

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She was not ill. She merely felt tired after her long journey and after all she had suffered. At least that was what she thought to comfort herself. Isabela tossed around on the large, cold bed. Her forehead burned while her thin figure shivered, her body ached with pain and fatigue. She felt like dying.

Maybe she was dying. All she could see was darkness and nothing more. Everything was so far away. And she was so tired…. So hurt….. What is happening to me? She wondered, casting her face to the side. What did I do wrong? Was my mistake being born?

At the very edge of her consciousness she heard constant knocking. Oh, she hoped the person would go away and leave her alone. She wanted to be alone. But the person outside was persistent and finally a voice accompanied it.

'My lady, I have some medicine for you. Please open the door.'

Was it Edmund? Or somebody else? A faun maybe or a centaur. She did not want to get up. The energy would not come. She was too tired to even push away the curl on her face which tickled her cheeks. She tried to ignore the person at least until they spoke again.

'My lady, please. Queen Susan sent me!'

Annoyed by the relentless person she pushed herself up. Oh… It hurt terribly. Her knees felt like jelly, her body like water which threatened to spill everywhere. She glanced at the mirror to make sure she looked human. Surely, surely the person in the mirror could not be her! The pale, thin girl with her paper white face almost glowing in the dark and purplish black bruises under her huge, deer like eyes could not be her. The red lines which ran across her eyes proved that she had been crying. And the hand she held up in sheer amazement was one of an old, scrawny person not a young charming lady, a princess!

The knocking started again and her head pounded badly. She opened the door barely conscious about her appearance. That was until she saw who it was. High King Peter. High King Peter the Magnificent stood at the door clutching a tray in his hands with a bowl of soup which had a delicious smell that assaulted Isabela's stomach. He looked at her with concern and pity in his sea blue eyes. She turned away. She did not want pity.

'May I ask you the purpose of your visit, my king?' That voice was not hers. Weak and high and blank without any trace of emotion.

'May I come in, my lady?'

'May I refuse your permission?'

There was a faint smile on Peter's mulberry lips throwing his high cheekbones into prominence.

'You do not bow down to others easily, do you, my lady?'

She was not in the mood to answer and instead held the door open. He walked in, blinking in the sudden darkness. He immediately walked to the velvet drapes and pulled them back. It was Isabela's turn to blink. She receded into the shadows.

'I brought you some soup to help you get well.'

'Thank you.' She said stiffly.

'You are welcome.' She laughed bitterly.

'You certainly don't work hard to make sure that I am welcome, do you, my king?'

He looked pained.

'Isabela….I am very, very sorry for what I said. I truly did not mean to hurt you.'

'But you did none the less.'

'I'm sorry.' He repeated again. 'I deserve any punishment which you think would be fit for me.'

She stared at him as if in disbelief.

'You hate me, do you not?' Peter asked.

'I do not hate you.' She said suddenly. 'Hate is a very, very strong word filled with only venom and poison. I do not hate you. But I abhor your behaviour towards me. Your coldness, your venomous remarks, your unwelcome conduct, your aloofness, your arrogant, superior-like character and most of all your conceitedness and malicious ways.'

Peter stared at her, momentarily stunned by her boldness. Suddenly a deathly anger gripped him and he struggled against it. He was a king, a High King, a knight, an emperor, a warrior and she dared to insult him like this? He could only take so much.

'A little understanding on your part would be highly appreciated, my lady. Are you even aware of what you are saying? And to whom?'

She did not answer but only looked at him with her child like eyes. He glared fiercely at her. She did not even flinch.

'I am sorry if I insulted you, my king.' She said in a low voice. 'But I said only what I thought.'

He turned away, his face almost glowing in the light.

'I am sorry too.' He said finally. 'For what I said earlier.'

'You need not be.' She said.

'No I have to. I caused you much pain as it already was.'

'Story of my life.' She said bitterly.

'Will you eat now?'

'No.'

'Why not?' he asked annoyed and irritated by now.

'You might have poisoned it.'

For a moment he did not whether to laugh or to strangle her. He did nothing and stared blankly at her.

'Do you ever stop with your opinionative remarks?' he said darkly. She nodded, shrugging lightly. 'I hope I live to see the day you do so.'

A small smile lightened her face and she had a fond, tender look on her face.

'My brothers said so too.' She told him. 'They told me that my husband would commit suicide when he married me.'

Peter laughed for real now and the sound echoed warmly around the room. The tension in the room loosened until it clattered to the ground like shards of broken, thawing ice.

'I believe they may be right.'

Isabela pouted lightly and her expression was so like Ed's that Peter could feel his previous anger dissolving. Perhaps things would not be as bad as they would be…

'My king?-'

'You can call me Peter.' He informed her, leaning against a painted wall.

'Peter….she said hesitatingly. 'Can I ask you something?'

'Of course.'

'Why did you agree to marry me? You could easily have refused.'

'I believe Susan told you why.'

'She did but I wanted to hear your reasons.'

'I have the same reasons as she told you. Aslan asked me to marry you and I have faith in him and his decisions.' He said, his expression icy. 'So what are your reasons?'

Isabela looked bewildered herself.

'I do not know.' she said helplessly. 'But it just seemed right and then Aslan came to me as well and told me I was doing right.'

'He did?' Peter asked, smiling slightly. 'He always does that.'

'Peter! Peter!' Lucy's shriek rang around the castle to him. 'Come quickly! Look what I have! Look!'

Peter glanced up, his blond bangs falling in his sullen blue eyes.

'Excuse me, my lady. I must go now.'

'Of course.' She said hollowly. 'You are excused.'

Peter strode out, taking long, graceful steps to his excited sister, finally at ease.

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Asha lifted her head, her abundant hair, chestnut in colour reflected the immense moonlight, some rays shimmering through, falling to her hips. They had grown several inches since the last full moon. A faint smile crossed her rose red lips, frightening and beautiful. She was beautiful, too graceful for a human, too tall for a dwarf, too pale for a Calormen, too thin for an Archenlander ears too rounded for an elf's. She was entirely different.

The pale emerald green dress she was clad in looked ravishing on her, its silken folds falling in drapes around her figure. Her legs were crossed as she sat on the ground, her feet bare. She breathed in the scent of the freshly washed trees of the forest. A young man, with greenish skin walked up to her, bowing low. He murmured something in her ear.

'My lady Asha, you are summoned.'

In a swift movement she was up and striding across the forest floor, zigzagging to avoid the huge trees.

'Dear Aslan, let all be right.' She thought, her eyes narrowed.

The small clearing in the heart of the forest was especially set for important gatherings. Now it was filled with the tree-people, the natives of the forest. They were fighting amongst each other, grumbling, yelling, muttering.

'Silence!' she said, her smooth voice echoing around. 'What ever is the matter?'

'Queen Andria is dead!' Someone yelled. 'Your mother, our queen is dead! Gone!'

Her mother? She had a mother? Asha was dazed. It had been so long since they had last met, so many centuries. They had never maintained contact and soon the aloofness' between them had increased, they never met again. And ever since then she had pretty much been on her own, few friends, only allies and enemies. Ha! She thought scornfully. 'Who needs family when they only back out on you?'

'But what is wrong?' she cried out. 'Surely you know who the next queen is!'

'You are, of course, my lady Asha! But these tears, these cries are for our dead queen.'

'Mourn those who are dead and you will be dead too. The dead cannot help us anymore.' She told them. They stared at her aghast. No doubt they thought she was mental.

'You want her to be our queen?' a young woman cried out, her eyes venomous. 'Who does not even mourn her mother?'

'She was not my mother! I own no blood debt to that witch!' Asha said ruthlessly, her eyes burning. There was a penetrating silence so long and deep nothing could impregnate it. Dear Aslan, what have I said wrong? Why are these people so stupid and dumb?

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Hope you like it! Reviews please!

A. L. Potter