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

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The voice was warm and oddly familiar, the breath tickled her ear lightly and she desperately tried to wrench her arm away, desperately trying to breathe, desperately trying to break free. She struggled against the iron grip, fierce and warm in its intensity. Her hand broke free of the figure's grasp and uncoiled, striking out at the person holding her.

'Isabela I've survived through wounds very near to the heart, through poisonous bites and dagger gashes. You truly believe that your soft, manicured hands can hurt me enough to let you go? Though I have seen them weave a sword more expertly than many warriors.' The voice was cool and terribly amused. Heat rushed to Isabela's face at the words. 'And frankly I'd appreciate it if you struggle less. It is most annoying.'

'Oh and why don't you let me go then?' She snapped rancorously, her words dripping with venom. 'I'm sure I would stop struggling then.'

'No. I prefer holding you.' The figure paused and then asked. 'Haven't you guessed by now who I am?'

'It would be far easier if I could see your face.' She said, only half sarcastic.

'Isabela, you are a good fighter. But not a very clever commander.'

She bit her lip to keep from snapping some inappropriate remark, trying unsuccessfully to keep her cool. She opened her mouth to reply but Edmund spoke, his breathing heavy with constant laughter.

'Oh let her go.' Edmund jumped in, still delighted. 'Even though I am enjoying this drama very much.'

'But I was just getting to the climax!' The person complained, chuckling too.

As they exchanged comments, it slowly dawned on Isabela who the person was. Her face swelled with utter fury and her cheeks turned crimson red.

'Peter!' she screamed angrily. 'You stupid, idiotic, dim witted, little….baboon! Let me go!'

Peter laughed and the arms around her relaxed. She did not wait but launched herself on her husband, throwing her entire weight against him which wasn't much but enough to take him by surprise.

'You did not like my little surprise?' he asked innocently, persistently dodging her hits. She lashed out at him in a wide use of creative vocabulary telling him exactly how she liked his little surprise.

Edmund whistled, his eyes dancing as he stared at the scene unfolding before him with unconcealed glee. Isabela, momentarily distracted, spun around to face him, her eyes blazing and Edmund's face completely drained of colour as he scrambled to get out of the way. He bolted out of the gardens, closely followed by Isabela who he had to admit was very, very fast.

'Come on, Lia. It was just a joke!' He tried to calm her down. 'It was only a stupid joke!'

'Of course. Laughing while somebody nearly strangled me was supposed to be a joke!' She replied sarcastically, punching his back.

'It was Peter! He would never hurt you!' Edmund yelped as he furiously tried to defend himself against her, raising his hands over his head to protect himself. 'I'm sorry! I'm sorry, alright?'

'No!' she said her voice tight, crossing her arms. Edmund looked at her suspiciously, afraid that she would start hitting him again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Peter shuffle next to him, fighting the grin that was slowly spreading over his face.

'Now you've done it.' He whispered dramatically to his elder brother. 'You've aroused her fury and now all of us have to pay the price. Oh what have you done? What have you done?'

'Stop acting like a drama king, Edmund.' Peter said frowning deeply. 'You're not hurt Isabela, are you?'

Isabela shook her head, a slow smile spreading over her face as Edmund spoke up, his voice high and lilting.

'But I am a king.' he pointed out. 'Just not of drama.'

'Very funny, Ed.' Isabela said crossly, glaring at the two brothers. 'I must say that I do not appreciate your regretful, sad sense of drama.'

Edmund looked crest fallen, his expression mock sad. He raised his hand to cover his heart.

'Alas, you have wounded me deeply so with your words, dear lady. I am woeful.'

'Woeful?' Peter asked raising his delicate, golden eyebrows. 'Since when did you learn to use such hard words?'

'Why thank you, my dearest brother.' Edmund managed a graceful bow, brushing back his hair. Peter glanced at him apprehensively.

'Do you even know the meaning of woeful?'

'No.' Edmund shrugged. 'I just wanted to sound sophisticated.'

Peter rolled his eyes, tousling his pale blond hair.

'Delightful.'

'Indeed.' Edmund said haughtily, tossing his head in the air. He glanced at Isabela. 'Why are you staring at me like you want to skin, scald, boil, cook, stew, roast, fry and grill me?'

'Because I do.' She said stiffly.

'Oh.' Edmund's grin vanished and he exchanged glances with Peter who held up his hands.

'Do Susan and Lucy know about your little joke?' She asked them.

'Actually even I did not know about this until just ten minutes before. Peter and I came up with the plan to surprise you with his homecoming.'

'And you could not surprise me in a civilized, decent, respectable, un-strangling way?' She asked Peter pointedly. He shrugged lightly, smiling softly.

'Since when were we any of those things?'

'Good point.'

'Well we certainly did get a reaction from you Isabela.' Edmund said loftily, wisely ignoring the glares directed at him. 'I'm hungry.'

'It's the middle of night, Ed.' Isabela told him.

Edmund gasped almost outraged.

'Is that any reason for not being hungry? I always get up at this time to take a snack.'

Isabela rolled her eyes bur said nothing, stalking away with prickling anger.

'I wonder how somebody with a temper like hers doesn't have red hair. She should have flaming, burning red hair, not black.'

'Don't push your luck, Ed.' Peter warned, ducking down to avoid Edmund's punch and laughing, he dashed away. 'Let's show Su and Lu our little surprise, shall we?'

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'You certainly have a knack for raising Isabela's awful mood, Peter.' Susan noted lightly, her voice low.

'You should get an award for it.' Lucy piped in, throwing back her fiery braid, entwined with gold and red ribbons.

Peter rolled his eyes at her, reclining back and stretching his long legs, his movements strikingly similar to a cat's.

'It's not my fault if the little vixen cannot control her awful mood when I'm around.'

'Little vixen?'

'Little cat, whatever you want.' Peter said absentmindedly. 'But a cat with extremely sharp claws that don't hesitate to scratch my face every time they see it.'

'The cat probably treats you with suspicion, I'm not surprised.' Susan shot at him. Her expression softened. 'But you really should try to get along with her Peter, she is your wife. And like it or not, your responsibility and your partner for life.'

Peter's silvery blue eyes darkened under the shadows that fell over them but he said nothing. Lucy gave Susan an apprehensive look, probably worried about Peter. Susan ignored it and continued.

'And more importantly any differences between you and her will give any enemy an open, clear shot at our hearts. It will prove you vulnerable.'

'I do not wish to discuss mine and Isabela's private life, Susan.' Peter said in a cold, hard voice. It was not hurting but there was definitely a back off tone in it.

Lucy immediately put a comforting hand over his, shooting Susan pleading glances.

'Lucy, I want to talk to Peter alone. Please.' Susan said coolly, not meeting her eyes.

'I want to stay here!' Lucy said firmly, her face obstinate. Susan mentally sighed.

'It is a personal matter Lucy. Not one for young girls. Please, go.'

'No.'

'Go Lucy. You heard Susan.' Peter spoke up, his voice dangerously low. Lucy cast around for some support and finding none she stood up, bolting out of the room.

As soon as the door banged shut with the entire force of Lucy's wrath, Susan opened her mouth to speak.

'Before you go on, Susan.' Peter interrupted. 'I don't want a lecture from you. You are my younger sister and while you do have a right to caution me, chid me, give your advice you me, I do not appreciate an entire sermon from you.'

'I wasn't going to!' Susan said, her tone injured. 'I just wanted to give you some advice.'

'That's always what it starts with.' Peter muttered. His voice grew sarcastically pleasant. 'Shoot away, dear sister of mine.'

'Alright I'll shoot away. Why do both you and Isabela mope around? Why do you act so bitterly around each other? Why do you treat her like an inferior, hurting her feelings again and again and again? Why does she hate you so, it cannot be so without a proper, solid reason, you know. Why are you so angry with her and with all of us?' Susan paused to take a breath, her eyes glinting with a dangerous glow.

'First of all Susan, Isabela and I do not mope around. And-do not interrupt me. We used to act bitterly around each other and it is obvious that we are acting bitterly around each other because we had a fight. I do not treat her like an inferior. If you think that you are sadly mistaken. As for hurting her feelings again and again, I do feel sorry for that. Truly and absolutely sorry. As for why she hates me, you should ask her and not me.' Peter glanced at her, his voice cold. 'And I am not angry at her. I was but not am. How can I be? It isn't her fault that she is married to me. Furthermore if you think that I am angry with you it is because of your own meddling and lack of consideration. I do appreciate your concern but I most definitely do not appreciate your attitude. Otherwise,' Peter's expression softened to a gentle, wistful smile. 'Why would I be angry with you? You are my sister, my confident, my ally, my friend and often my mother too.'

Susan rolled her eyes at his rueful grin, unable to shoot any hurtful words in retaliation. She did not have the heart to chide him after his truthful words, spoken with unshakable honesty.

'I do love you Peter, you know that right?' She reached over to fondly ruffle his pale blonde hair. Peter dodged down, avoiding her hand, grumbling under his breath. 'But I would really be pleased if you and Isabela put aside your discrepancies and truly love each other?'

'That's not possible. Not any more.' Peter said quietly.

'Anything's possible. If you truly try to make it possible.' Susan paused, glancing at him thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her deep blue eyes. 'Will High King Peter the Magnificent be defeated by something which is thoroughly possible?'

'No.' Peter shot back. 'High King Peter the Magnificent will be defeated by the annoying and irritating beyond belief whims of his womenfolk.'

A radiant smile bloomed across Susan's face and she stood up, smoothing the long skirt of her sea green dress.

'I shall look forward you seeing how you duel against it, Peter.'

'And if I die in the way?'

'I shall prepare a special quotation to be written on your tombstone.' Susan said solemnly.

'Don't bother. Just write: Here lies a man who was always tired, as he lived in a world where too much was required.'

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Susan closed the doors quietly, turning around to bump directly into the face of her younger brother. She shot back, shrieking with rage and surprise. Edmund winced, covering his ears completely.

'Oh Su, don't scream so loudly.'

'Edmund Pevensie! How dare you!'

A goofy grin spread over his freckled, pale face as he leaned against the soft gold walls.

'I dare a lot of things, sister.' He said arrogantly, running a hand through his dark hair. 'You should know that.'

'I do.' She replied crossly, arching an eyebrow. 'What are you doing here?'

'Oh, I saw Lucy striding angrily down the halls. She was really, really mad. Almost on fire. And she filled me in on all the juicy details girls always seem to know. So, naturally, I rushed here to save my dear sister from spending her entire wrath on my poor elder brother. You really shouldn't scold us, Su. You'll get wrinkles on your forehead.'

'I'm more afraid of losing my voice scolding you.'

'That's a lame hyperbole and you know it, Su.'

'Enlighten me as to how you know the meaning of hyperbole?' Susan questioned. 'No. Cross that. Enlighten me as to why you are here.'

'I'm here to calm you down.' He said patiently. 'And to ask you to not choke Peter with your lectures.'

'I don't have enough time. The ball is tonight, you know. And we still have to decorate the Grand Hall, choose the dresses, prepare the refreshments, call the Narnia musicians and so much more.'

'What? Another ball?' Edmund exclaimed. 'Why do girls like balls so much?'

'It is to celebrate our victory over Vladimar's forces and to commemorate the services of the brave soldiers and villagers who fought against them.' Susan explained impatiently, biting her lower lip. 'Will you help me?'

'Always a pleasure helping you my sister.' Edmund managed a graceful bow. 'Shoot away.'

'I need you to go shopping with me. I need somebody to give me advice.' Susan said absently.

'Uh I just realized I had to help Orieus gather more information about the rebellion. See ya.' Edmund fled out of the room, doing his best to keep the horrified expression from his face.

'But Edmund,' Susan shouted after him. 'Orieus is away to give invitations to the other rulers.'

But Edmund was already gone. Huffing angrily Susan strode out of the room, hurrying to give instructions to the Narnians.

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'Why aren't you dancing, Isabela?'

Isabela glanced up, weaving back the locks that had by now escaped from the coiffure Sadeh had so lovingly styled. Her eyebrows rushed together in a fierce scowl as she saw her husband sitting next to her, striking in his scarlet, velvet tunic, his blond hair attractively messed up.

'You do love to scowl every time you see me don't you Isabela?'

'Can you suggest something else I should do, my king?' She enquired sweetly. 'Shouldn't the High King be at the ball celebrating his smashing victory?'

'Shouldn't the High Queen be dancing with him?' Peter shot back, smiling slightly as he leaned back on his arms. 'You look absolutely stunning, my darling significant other.'

His eyes scanned her, taking in each and every detail. Isabela fingered the silky fabric of her pale gold gown; catching attractively at her slender waist and flowing down in lace like spirals over her long legs, the material soft and glowing and utterly eye catching. Susan had chosen it for especially this reason.

'Significant other?' she asked, curving an eyebrow.

'When you live with Susan you learn all difficult words and phrases for the simplest of the words.' He said cheerfully. 'I'm surprised you haven't. While we go back to the original question. Why aren't you dancing?'

'I'm tired of dancing.'

'Dancing yourself or watching others dances?' Peter said laughing.

Isabela smiled.

'Both.'

'Hm….' They fell silent as they stared at the star struck sky, dotted with glittering shapes.

'Isabela?'

Isabela raised her eyes to meet his, her eyes questioning.

'Would you like to accompany me to the Northern March?'

'Northern March?' She asked startled. 'Why?'

'Well.' Peter smiled wryly. 'You are the Countess of the area.'

'Oh. A business matter?'

Peter shrugged unwilling to talk more. Isabela studied him and then raised her hand to his forehead.

'You don't have a fever.' She mused. 'And you look well enough. And you certainly don't have amnesia. What's wrong with you?'

'Why should anything be wrong with me?' Peter questioned, taken aback by her actions. 'I was just asking you to accompany me to the Northern March?'

'Why?' She asked suspiciously. 'Do you plan to drown me there?'

'I think I should be more afraid of you drowning me, Isabela.'

She shot him a burning glare. Just then Edmund poked his head through, smiling idiotically when he saw the scene before him.

'Susan's asking for you. Hurry up. It's time for your dance.'

'We're coming, Ed.' Peter sprung lithely to his feet, extending a hand to Isabela. He said grandly. 'Well, my lady, would you care to dance with me?'

'Maybe.' Smiling mischievously she got up, a sly look in her eyes. 'Just maybe.'

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So we are slowly but surely progressing towards Lia-Peter romance. Seems too unexpected doesn't it. But let's not be too hasty in reading the future after all both the concerned characters are very, very, very unpredictable. Anyways….. Every time I urge you to do this and every time some of my most dedicated readers do it. Yup you guessed it. Reviews please!

A. L. Potter