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

Author's Note: I know what you are thinking: Finally! And so I won't keep you from this chapter by my apologies and excuses. Without any ado….. The next chapter!

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Relief flooded her grasping her completely; an expression of happiness crossed her face. Behind her Lucy shrieked and dove out, her wild mane, coloured auburn, shooting behind her, tamed down by Edmund's hands as he twirled her around in his arms.

Holding up her skirts Susan ran after her, her arms instinctively going out to grasp her white sister-in-law who stumbled back from the force. However she relaxed almost immediately, a smile forming on her tired face. Susan was on the verge of tears and Isabela awkwardly patted her back, hugging her lightly.

She and Lucy exchanged places and Edmund found himself receiving the end of a dozen or so rib-crushing hugs and kisses on the cheek from his elder sister.

Heat flooded his cheeks and he pulled himself out of her embrace, scowling but his expression betrayed him.

'You're back! Oh we were so worried!' Lucy said brightly, her arms grasping Isabela's neck.

The Narnians crowded around them happiness oozing out of their expressions. They took turns to embrace their beloved monarchs before ushering them away Susan dragged both of them inside chastising them whole heartedly.

Once inside she called the servants to arrange for a warm bath and fresh clothes for them. Hands on her hips she turned to face Edmund who visibly cowered under her angry glare.

'And you Edmund Pevensie! Where were you? Why didn't you bother to inform us? Do you have no common sense as to inform your worried sisters and people that you are safe?'

'But Su-' Edmund protested. A pale hand reached out to thump him on the head. 'Ow! Su, you are a devil.'

'Don't make me give you plenty of bruises to make it seem that you took on a giant single handed.' Susan threatened, her deep blue eyes glittering dangerously.

'You would do that?' Edmund asked weakly, his face pale. 'You wouldn't would you?'

Susan gave him one of her venomous looks. And then her shadow sprung up and she whirled around to face Isabela.

'And you Lia! Why didn't you tell us where you were?'

'That's because we could not. We sent the soldiers to inform you of our well being. It was all we could do. And besides-' she added carefully. 'We were only in the Western Woods, Edmund's domain, no where else.'

For one instant Susan stared at her and then she nodded impassively, her nose wrinkling up.

'You smell disgusting.'

'Well we did come back from war.' Edmund pointed out, grumbling lightly. Susan glared at him pointedly but said nothing morel.

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Dearest Peter (I won't bother with the titles so don't expect them),

I write to you in the hope that you are well. (In case you are wondering what is up with the previous line, Susan made me write that). Anyways moving on I was told (more like ordered) by our lovely elder sister (younger in your case) to tell you that your beloved wife (you must be worried) and I (your darling, dashing brother) have reached Cair Paravel safely. Though we did face some small occupations on the way back which not surprisingly alarmed out sister, Susan (is that a surprise?), we reached Cair Paravel safely (all because of me). Anyways we are back and safe and sound. When you return we shall give you a full detailed account of our adventure filled journey back home. I pray that your ventures will be successful (hopefully) and that you will soon return to us.

With love (oh don't please yourself)

Edmund the Just, King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Duke of Lantern Waste, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Table and Count of the Western March

Peter smiled his brooding momentarily paused by the letter. Count on Ed to make your mood better.

His eyes scanned the letter again, taking in each and every detail. He sorely missed his family and Narnia. A small smile curved at his lips as he read again and again but then a frown crinkled up his forehead.

Why did Ed and Isabela stop in the Western Woods? What had been so important?

He gazed around thoughtfully. For once he was glad that Susan had scolded him and Isabela for their more than foolish ventures.

A vague smile flickered over his face as he thought about how soon they would return home. The war was almost over. They had captured some of the major towns and villages besieged by the invaders and only one was left. After that…. He would be home.

Peter raised his tired, aching body before flopping down on the makeshift bed which was in reality around six layers of blankets. He closed his eyes but the thoughts would not go away. The guilt, the regret. He mentally scolded himself.

What use was guilt now?

The damage had already been done and he was sure that Isabela would never forgive him. Never…. He flinched lightly. He had never truly meant to hurt her in any way. Yes she had been unwanted but now she was a constant part of his life like Susan, Edmund and Lucy and he would willingly give his life for her if the need arose.

But still…. He could not forgive himself for the way he had treated her. He had been beyond cruel, even barbaric. But deep inside him, a part of him explained to him why he had been so rude to her.

It had been the mental fatigue, the psychological pain weaving him down, the tiredness. He would never admit it, his pride was too strong, but he was sick of the war and wished only for it to end. He had observed the cruelties of war far more than Isabela had and it was obvious that, for all her brave words and talents in combat, she was battered. The healers had insisted that she leave that battle field. She had lost too much blood, they said.

He had known full well that Isabela would never leave if he simply asked her to. Only anger at him and the pain that he caused her would force her to leave. She was too emotional, he knew and that was her greatest weakness. He would have had to exploit that weakness in order to make her leave.

Tossing around feverishly, he rubbed his temples to soothe the blazing headache. His remorse would not allow him respite, his regret would not leave him in peace, his guilt taunted him till he felt he would burst.

Oh Isabela…. forgive me….. please…..

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Heidi slipped inside the castle, her stride slinky and silent and thus unnoticed. Tears threatened to weave down her face and with great effort she pushed them back. But still a wretched sob escaped her ringing around the hall.

Frightened and half wild she looked up afraid the guards would have heard. By some miracle no one came and relaxing ever so slightly she continued her journey to her room.

Her latest meeting with Vladimar had been far from successful. He had been cool, quiet and angry…..furious….. Heidi could feel the how the first essence of fear trickled down her spine when she caught sight of his murderous face. If looks could kill, she would have been lying dead on the floor.

They had met on the outskirts of the town. The villagers would have noticed her if they had met within. And Vladimar had seemed far from happy. She had seen how bruised and bloodied his face was and a long, horrifying gash ran down his cheek. From that bloody, high king… he had said angrily.

When she had meekly inquired about how he fared during the battle he had thrown his glass of wine at her and the wine had soaked her entire gown, though mercifully the glass had banged against the wall over her head. She knew he was not happy with her…. Not happy at all….

She fled to her room and just as she was turning aground the corner she bumped into a slender, small figure.

With a small cry she fell to the floor, her palm outstretched. The figure stepped into moonlight and immediately asked concernedly about Heidi's welfare.

Heidi looked up and for an instant she was speechless. The girl standing in front of her looked like a porcelain doll, so pretty she was. Her long, long hair was curled up into a coiffure at the back of her head and her were the envy of all women. Jealously sparked up within her. It was as if somebody had placed glittering, emeralds in her orbs, which changed shade with each angle of her well shaped chin. Her cheekbones were high but not much defined and her features were delicate and stunning.

Suddenly it struck her who this girl cold possibly be. High Queen Isabela… Fear ran through her and Isabela must have seen that for she asked kindly whether Heidi was hurt.

Heidi shook her head feeling embarrassed. It was obvious that Isabela was much younger than she but still she was more mature and composed. Abruptly it seemed clear to her how this young girl could be a queen and a great warrior if the rumours were true.

'I am fine, my lady.'

'I am afraid I haven't seen you here before. Who are you?' Isabela enquired. 'You know me but I do not know you.'

'Everybody knows you, my lady.' Heidi curtsied, standing up straight. 'I am Heidi.'

'What a beautiful name.'

'Thank you, my lady.' Heidi replied uncertainly.

So this was the person she had to destroy according to Vladimar if she wanted to destroy the High King. This young, well mannered, beautiful girl? Why her?

'I am very sorry, my lady.' She said abruptly. Isabela laughed.

'Oh no , the fault is all mine. I apologize.'

'It is not for bumping into you, my lady. It is for something else. Though I apologize for that too'

'Oh? If Isabela was bewildered she did not show it at all. Instead she smiled politely though not too greatly. She maintained her grace and status.

'I have some business to do. I hope you can find your way to your room, Heidi.'

'Yes, my lady. Thank you for your concern.'

Isabela hurried away. Heidi stared after her.

She could not believe it.

That young girl?

That was the treat to Vladimar?

She wondered how easy that could be. It would be very, very easy. For the first time that night she smiled. And it was a smile her father would have been proud of….

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Isabela stared hollowly at the plate put out before her laden with delicious smelling – and no doubt delicious tasting – colourful food. The aroma waved through the air to her and she inhaled contently. Beside her Edmund was already diving into his plate which was literally flooded with scrambled eggs, light roasted chicken, toast and heavy bacon. When he raised his head to grin at her, his cheeks were smeared with the egg yolk.

Lucy giggled poking him in the ribs and Edmund in response tugged one of her auburn, glowing braids.

'Edmund Pevensie!' Susan told him, her eyes flashing. 'Have you no manners? That is just pure disgusting!'

'Disgusting is my middle name, Su. You should know that by now.' He mock admonished, waving his fork at her.

'I should tell the servants not to set your side of the table. It is useless to do so.'

Edmund shrugged, grinning mischievously.

'You're probably right. What useless things these forks, knives and spoons are.'

Regardless of her fatigue, Isabela felt a smile tug at her lips as she too began eating her breakfast. She stretched her aching legs ahead of her, wincing ever so slightly when she felt a muscle pull just as a young centaur hurried into the room, his face alight.

'My lord Edmund!' Edmund looked up not even bothering to wipe his face. Apparently the Narnians were by now used to their monarchs strange, erratic behaviour. 'A letter from the High King.'

Isabela felt a shift in the relaxed atmosphere around the table. Susan sat up, her long hair pulled back into a graceful bun wobbling a little. Lucy's face lightened up and her eyes practically shone as she looked eagerly over Edmund's shoulder to read the letter. Edmund, however, rolled his eyes.

'Typical. He has to send me a letter when I am in the middle of a very important business for the goodness of the land. He always did that.'

Susan scowled at him.

'Important business?' she repeated sarcastically. 'For the goodness of the land? Ha!'

'Well my health is very, very essential in the governing of Narnia. Have some sense Susan!'

Her brows came together in a furious glare as she snatched the letter from beside him and ripped in open. Isabela feared that in her fury she would rip the letter instead of the envelope surrounding him.

She opened it and her blue eyes scanned the letter.

'He's alright!' She announced. 'And they have almost established peace in all districts but one.'

'Read it aloud, Su.' Lucy told her. Susan looked up and gestured for her to take the letter.

Lucy took it quickly and her merry eyes shifted from line to line as if absorbing each and every word. A small, melancholic smile came onto her lips and she wordlessly passed the letter to Isabela.

Her anger at Peter was great, her fury even greater and her urge to hit him, the greatest. Her pride would not allow her to read the letter or even touch it. And she did not. Silently she kept on eating her food.

'Won't you read the letter, Isabela?' Susan asked curiously.

'I know he is alive and well and that the Narnians are successful. There is nothing more to know.' Isabela all but snapped. Immediately she regretted it but Susan said nothing.

'But-' Lucy began. 'You should...'

'Leave her be, Lu.' Susan said. Her tone was stern but gentle. 'It is for her to read the letter and if she does not wish to do so why should we force her?'

Lucy bit her lip as if she wanted to say something but was unwilling to say it. Finally she burst out.

'But don't you want to know about his condition?'

'I already know about his condition.' Isabela replied hoping Lucy would drop the conversation.

'But aren't you concerned about him?' She asked her bewilderment childish and innocent.

'Just about as much as he is about me.' She said stiffly, sweeping back her hair and rising. 'Please excuse me.'

Just as she turned she thought she saw written on the parchment, in Peter's clear, cursive writing, her own name. But then it disappeared and she strode out, her eyes pricking dangerously when she heard Edmund say.

'Love sucks, doesn't it?'

'You have no idea.' Susan agreed her voice impassive.

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Peter gasped as he felt the enemy's blade pierce his side and for an instant he was unable to move. That gave his enemy all the advantage. As he advanced grinning his sword moving in a dark arch over his head, Peter felt a cold, freezing fear. But his years as a warrior and a knight came rushing back to him and he pushed forward with all his strength, managing to stumble against a tree planted in the middle of nowhere.

Using the hanging branch as a support he raised himself and plunged blindly with Rhindon trying to get some aim, any aim. Apparently his aim in confusion was almost as good as it was when he was attentive and he felt his enemy scream as a weight sagged against him.

It was then that his bearings came back to him. He grabbed the man by his collar and shook him. Hard.

'Who is your leader? Where is he? What is his name?' He snarled. Fear shone upright on the man's face and he struggled to breathe. Finally he stuttered out.

'Vladimar. His name is Vladimar.'

'Where is he?'

'I…I do …..not…..not…..know.'

'Liar!'

Peter could see the life exiting the man's body. He knew he had no more than a few precious seconds to ask about the whereabouts of their leader.

'Tell me. Hurry!'

The man gasped as blood dripped from one side of his mouth but said nothing. But Peter saw his eyes flicker towards the large mansion, towering over the town. And then…..nothing….. The man was dead.

Orieus rushed to his side, his pointed eyes barely visible under the cover of the night and of the silver helmet that he wore.

'Are you injured, my liege?'

'I'm alright.' Peter managed to say through gritted teeth and he raised himself to his full height. He would not back down now. No. Not on his own life. 'Go! You must free all the villagers.'

'But where are you going, my lord?'

'To kill the man who started this, who hurt so many of ours.'

Orieus nodded gravely.

'May Aslan be with you.'

'And you.'

He managed to reply despite the bitter laugh that rose up. Aslan had surely abandoned him now. After all he had said and done to Isabela. He could not remember how many times he had made the promise with Aslan to be kind to Isabela, to cherish her, to love her and how many times had he broken it.

He stumbled off to the high mansion of the village located behind the rumbling town. On the way he stopped to help the fallen Narnians, comfort the dying and help those in desperate need of help.

In all eyes he saw the same plea, the same request. Help us, my lord. Take away the pain, my liege. Help me.

At the back of his mind he heard a very familiar voice say quietly.

'You are the strong one, Peter. You always were.'

Due to the countless distractions it took him a long time to reach the mansion. It was tall and impression and Peter had to give credit to the people who had made it. It must have taken a great deal of time and energy to do it. His intelligent eyes scanned it. It was also an excellent hideout. The walls were solid and enclosing and made of the hardest cement. A well- protected fortress. Peter burst through the broken door, trying to keep an eye everywhere around him. His sword was raised to defend himself from any attack and his eyes and ears were alert as an eagle's.

He swept from one room to the other, keeping as silent as possible.

By the time he had taken a complete round of first floor his feet were aching. Despair filled him. He would never manage to find the Vladimar person if this continued.

Suddenly the lights went out and Peter spun around his sword raised to block any attack. A serpentine voice said from behind him.

'You must be the High King of Narnia, Peter I believe.'

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And… Another chapter done! I apologize greatly for keeping my reader's waiting and hopefully the next chapter will be updated very soon. And please do not hesitate to give me your comments and feedbacks, criticisms, suggestions and queries which I'd greatly appreciate!

A. L. Potter