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

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Susan breathed in the fresh air of the sea from her balcony window. It smelled of lavender blooms and a salty scent that enthralled her senses. The light breeze ruffled her hair like an affectionate mother.

She yanked an exotically carved wooden brush through her luxuriant curls, brushing aside the thin bangs occasionally falling into her eyes.

It was good to be back.

Home.

Finally.

Her eyes darkened as she thought of the events of the previous days. She closed them, trying to block out the tainted thoughts.

I was a fool…. Why?

She had thought much as to why had she been so close minded, why had she blocked out the truth so eagerly? Had she been so blinded by Rabadash's charming manner and good looks?

She did not want to think about it.

Unbidden, the thoughts came back, crowding her mind until she had to release her frustration. What would she have done if the Lord Peridan and his army had not learned of her capture and had not come to rescue her? Would she have been forced to wed Rabadash?

Once she would have been ecstatic at the thought.

Now she was only frightened. And disgusted.

Her thoughts dwindled back to the stormy night.

'My lady, are you alright?' Peridan asked concernedly, his expression fierce and his long hair pulled back into a small ponytail.

He started when he saw her dusty, face, cut across one cheek and her torn dress.

'By the Lion…' he cursed to himself and took her from one arm, pulling her up.

'I can walk, Peridan.' She said quietly. Peridan nodded sharply and pulled out her sword, gesturing to two of his men.

'What of the Prince? he asked, his tone disgusted.

'He is unconscious, my lord.' A faun spoke up, pushing back his bow and arrow.

'Well and good. It seems luck is on our side. Talk her Majesty to the ship and make all haste. I shall join you shortly.'

'Follow me, my lady.' The faun said accompanied by many others. Dazedly Susan realized that they were all a part of the Narnian army. Lucy must have sent them when Susan did not reply to her anxious letters.

Dear, dear Lucy.

It was by sheer dumb luck or by Aslan's will ( Susan preferred the second ) which had kept her alive that led to a clear path, devoid of violent confrontations.

Then she realized that it was nearly midnight. Of course the guards, drunken and confused from the party last night, were probably asleep.

Outside the night was stormy and dull and the sea was violently flooding the coast. She could see the struggling Narnians at the dock, furiously working to stable the rocking ship.

The rescue party ushered her aboard, hurrying her to the deck. Dimly she saw the sails crashing around.

'Hurry! Let go of the ropes! Let her start her journey! The Lion will protect u! Have faith in him!' A centaur, ancient and wise shouted to the others.

Peridan, by now drenched, nodded swiftly and gestured to a few female fauns to help the tired, wounded Queen.

Minutes later, she was lying in a warm bed, dressed in fresh clothes, her locks dry and a woven velvet blanket covering her.

'Sleep, my lady. You need rest.' An old badger sitting beside her, comforted patting her hand. 'You have been through much.'

'No. The…. Narnians need my help.' She croaked but her voice was firm.

'Hush!' The badger scolded. 'You are too important, my lady! And all the people are here to lay down their lives for their beloved Gentle Queen.'

Susan did not have the strength to protest and soon fell into a nightmarish slumber.

She had woken up in Cair Paravel and had learned of the Calormen army coming after them. It had been a bizarre week and Lucy pleaded to go with Corin, Cor and Aravis. And finally Susan agreed.

Almost after the army left, Susan received news from Peter, explaining to her where they were and what were they doing. Soon after she learned of their victory over Rabadash.

Cor gleefully described to her how Rabadash had been turned into a donkey by Aslan.

Serves him right. She thought crossly, her worries turning back to her family in the north fighting the vicious giants….

Shivering suddenly she wrapped her bare arms around herself to keep outside the bad memories. Now her brothers and sister-in-law were away to war.

She hadn't even bothered to write to them about their welfare.

Heck, she hadn't even bothered to think about them!

Why? She wondered. Why? Oh Aslan let them be alive and safe! I beg you!

She was sure she heard an answering lion's roar which caused her to stagger and nearly stumble back.

A sweet, thankful smile blossomed on her features.

Yes, Aslan, would certainly watch over them.

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Peter was worn and tired by the time he returned to the tent, his tunic dusty, his cheek slashed from a dagger, his boots clicking against the ground.

Slowly he turned around to glance at the sleeping form in the cot, his heart wrenching in guilt and regret.

He honestly hadn't meant to lose his temper with Isabela, his frustration and anger had gotten the best of him but he hadn't meant to direct it at her.

I have serious anger management issues.

He went over to the bed, kneeling at the end and glancing at Isabela's face in the darkness. It was pale and shadowy but still stunning as that of a princess's.

She was very pretty, he could not deny that.

Her features were prominent and pale, her chin a widow's peak. For the first time since he had met her he carefully studied her features. Her cheekbones were reasonably high, her nose straight and long, and her complexion somewhere between tanned and fair which was pale against the night. Her ringlets were long and soft and sometimes curled and at other times dead straight. And her eyes were the most eye catching feature of all, a brighter green than dull oak leaves, a duller green that emeralds, darker than jade but lighter than a green garnet. They had a colour of their own chaperoned by unusually long eyelashes.

Snap out of it, Peter! He chastised himself. You must have lost your mind in that battle.

It had been a fierce battle with the giants. Again. Except this time they were better equipped and actually had a plan to deal with them. They had managed to kill three and injure five others. It was a miserable score for a warrior but better than none. And worse he had lost almost five men in that clash.

He sighed and took off his tunic to cool himself down, his face inky white in the darkness as he glanced back at Isabela.

The remorse rose up again. He truly was sorry. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.

Isabela?

Himself?

Or Aslan?

He cringed as he thought of Aslan's disappointment. It hit him like a hammer, piercing him through and through. It hurt to let down Aslan when he had so much faith in him. And worse it hurt to hurt somebody close to him.

Not one somebody.

But two somebody.

He stooped down next to Isabela's head, fingering her hair softly.

'I'm sorry, my lady. I truly am sorry.' He said finally. 'I know it is useless. But…. I am very, very sorry.'

'You always say that, Peter.' A small voice came up to him. Isabela.

He winced at the tone of her voice not because it was meant to hurt but because it was hurt itself.

Why did he always end up hurting Isabela?

'But I am sorry. And I apologize profusely for what I said to you. It was…. Wrong and unkind of me.'

'Not wrong or unkind.' Isabela said, a poignant smile flickering across her face. 'Just downright cruel, Peter. You say you are High King and I think that you deserve that because you have rightly earned the respect, love and admiration of your people. But you failed to earn mine. And so I cannot regard you as a High King. Just a spiteful and malicious person who takes every chance to hurt me.'

Peter opened his dry mouth to reply but the words wouldn't come.

'And you call yourself a knight of Aslan's! Upholder of peace and justice. Yes. Brave and noble. Yes. Humble and merciful. Yes. But polite, kind, chivalrous, courteous, gallant? No.'

'That's only your opinion.' Peter replied hotly.

'See?' Isabela asked. 'You think you are a perfect person to everyone. And everyone you see is dying for you! But not everyone is! Why can't you accept that to make a place in people's hearts you have to prove yourself to them?'

'Have you eaten your dinner, my lady?' Peter asked sharply.

'Don't change the subject, Peter!' Isabela replied flushed.

'Isabela! Have you or have you not?' He demanded.

Isabela did not reply.

'So you starve yourself to hurt yourself rather than me? Do you see my point? When I say you are childish or immature it means to tell you that you are far too naïve and trusting. You hurt yourself to hurt others. That's what I'm telling you. I never meant that as an insult. I say hurtful things to see how you react to them. And you react exactly the same way! Going out in the bitter cold in a bare nightdress? Wandering around the camp when everyone is asleep? Not eating proper food? You should learn to hurt others without hurting yourself. That's what I'm trying to tell you. That's why I hurt you.'

'You're a master at making excuses and pretences, Peter.' Isabela said sarcasm lining her voice.

'Why thank you, my lady.' Peter replied icily.

'Your welcome, my king.'

'You know, my lady, I believe that you and Ed should return to Cair Paravel.'

'What? No!' Isabela protested.

'Yes. The war is getting out of hand and we need more men and rations of food supplies and fresh drinking water. It would be best that you two are out of danger's way. Especially after your little… adventure.'

Isabela glared at him, her expression toned with anger.

'Yes that's right. Always me who is making the mistake, it is always me who is childish and naïve. And the noble High King is always there to correct me. I am very thankful to Aslan for giving me such perfect husband.'

'I am not perfect, Isabela.' He replied stiffly.

'Of course not! Silly of me!' Isabela said pretending to be surprised and shocked at her statement. 'Our more than perfect, High King.'

Peter glared at her and then shook his head.

'No more questions, Isabela.' He said firmly. 'You are returning back to Cair Paravel and that is final.'

'You cannot make me!' Isabela said to him.

'Watch me.' He replied, waving his hand. 'Remember you promised to obey my orders on this expedition.'

'I-' Isabela swallowed. She had made a promise. And she never went back on her word. She said unhappily. 'Alright. I'll go.'

'Don't think that I'm sending you because you are not a capable fighter, Isabela.' He told her as if reading her thoughts. 'You are beyond magnificent, a true warrior queen. Rarely have I seen, even my own men, fight as good as you do.'

'Thank you?' She said uncertainly glancing around the room. Was that a true compliment or something to get on my good side?

Peter laughed suddenly.

'It was a compliment, Isabela. And no,' he added. 'I cannot read minds; it is your expression that betrays you.'

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Isabela bolted through the cluster of slender poplar trees, nearly touching the pink sky, as they swayed from side to side with Edmund hot on her heels.

The horizon was alight with gold and the giant ball of fire rose lazily from its long slumber, sprawling its rays entwined with light orange and molten yellow, into the sky as twittering birds flew high over head.

'What's the matter, Ed?' she teased. 'Cannot catch up to me?'

'Not a chance!' Edmund yelled back, his horse, Philip, neighing in approval, his mane tossing from side to side as he pranced through the abundant forest. 'I'm a much better rider than you are, Lia! I'm just giving to he small satisfaction of making you proud that you are faster then me before I unleash my true power!'

And on the cue, he sped up, leaving behind a fine trail of dust. But Isabela was not one to let go of a challenge so easily and she urged her own angelic horse on, her hair flying wildly behind her.

Soon they were side by side, their paths criss-crossing in an effort to cross the other. Finally Edmund called.

'Slow down, Lia. The others are having trouble keeping up.'

Flushed and breathing hard she skidded to a stop, her cheeks coloured completely from exhaustion and laughing. She smiled.

'So I win, my lord?' she asked playfully. Edmund grinned wickedly.

'Who gave you that false notion, my queen? Surely you could not be that foolish as to actually believe that!'

'Oh, you fly so high, Edmund!' She said exasperated.

'Thank you, thank you for that beautiful compliment, my lady.' He said dramatically flourishing his sword. 'My heart dances upon hearing such pleasing words from you my lady!'

She rolled her eyes, glancing around for the rest of the Narnian party.

'Where are they?'

As if on the cue the Narnians came up, breathing hard from exhaustion.

'Our Just King and High Queen do like riding much.' A young faun breathed, clutching its short legs to keep them from shaking. 'And both are excellent riders I must say.'

'Thank you, Gahen.' Edmund said, his eyes twinkling. 'Shall we move on?'

'Not so fast, my young boy.' A new voice drawled followed by several leers from the shadowy darkness of the forest which lay ahead despite the rising sun. Several of the Narnians pulled out their weapons, the two centaur aiming their bows at the point from where the voices came from and the others picking up stray branches, small daggers and even acorns.

'No!' Isabela said sharply. She turned back to the unknown person. 'We come in peace, people of the wood. We are crossing the Western Wood to reach the Narnian capital of Cair Paravel on an important mission. And we have the approval of King Edmund the Just, who governs over this area.'

There was no answer and then after a few murmurings came a nasal voice.

'It matters not who you are, girl. All that matters is that you are not one of ours and thus are enemies. Surrender peacefully and you shall be killed mercifully. Fail to do so and the consequences will be very….severe.'

'What a forgiving, generous offer.' Edmund commented sarcastically.

'Don't be smart, boy!' the voice growled. 'You cannot see us but we can see you and we have more weapons than you could possibly imagine.'

Gahen opened his mouth to reply and Isabela could see he was about to reveal their identities and she shushed him with a wave of her hand, throwing all of them a fierce look.

It was a signal: No information. None at all

'You leave us no choice.' the voice said mockingly regretful.

'Men, attack them! Let no one live for crossing our territory! We will show these people yet who is the King of the Forest.'

'Not king, queen.' Said a musical voice. 'And then it is convenient that I am here, is it not?'

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Another chapter done! We are indeed steadily progressing! Reviews please!

A. L. Potter