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

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'Isabela! Wake up! Do you intend to sleep till dusk?' Peter demanded to his slender wife who lay on the seven poster bed, deep in slumber, her breath lulling, her face, for once, peaceful.

Receiving yet again no answer, he scowled deeply, running his hand through his cropped blond hair in exasperation before kneeling beside her sleeping form, he shook her.

'Come on.' He muttered angrily. Still louder he said: 'Wake up, Isabela!'

His only answer was Isabela turning away from him, rubbing her face against the fluffed up pillow as if seeking softness. Losing his patience he rose up, snatching away both the pillow and the velvet blanket which was wrapped around her and in the process he none too ceremonially pulled her to the floor.

She sat up at once, glowering at her laughing husband.

'You go to-.' She bit her lip tersely. 'Why did you wake me up?'

'Look out the window.' He said shortly. 'It's almost noon.'

Grumbling she slipped out of bed, her long hair wild and untamed. He watched her intently, amused by her quiet muttering. Laughing softly he picked up her chemise and cotton dress from the wooden chest. He threw them to her as she proceeded to the dressing room, picking up random clothes on her way.

'Isabela.' Peter called after her, desperately trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. 'I don't think my tunic will fit you very well.'

The muttering stopped and he found his summer tunic hurled at him, striking him straight in the face.

'I'll send in Heulwen.' He called. Shaking his head he slipped out of the room in search of the huge giantess.

Leaning against the wall of the dressing room, Isabela heard the door shut as he went out, heard him call out to Heulwen before she sank to the floor, her cheeks warm from the heat that flooded them.

Dear Aslan. She thought quietly. Why do I keep humiliating myself?

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the opening and closing of the door. For one instant she thought Peter had returned but the lumbering thread told her otherwise. Seconds later Heulwen's face appeared from behind the drawn curtains.

'Some folks think I am a flying griffin now.' She grumbled as she hurried to and fro. 'What is my kitten going to wear?'

'This?' She held up the cotton dress in her hand. Instantly Heulwen was in her arms.

'No, you aren't. It's utter cold out there. And I ain't going to have you catch a cold the day you got here. Let's see.' She opened the drawer containing the Isabela's clothes, shuffling through them one by one before she pulled out one, spreading it before her.

It was a dress Isabela had long since forgotten. It too was made of cotton but the material was reasonably thicker than that of the previous dress. The peach colour complimented Isabela's skin and slim figure and the brown ribbon work added to its glory.

'Turn around.' Heulwen commanded as she lowered the breezy dress over Isabela's figure, drawing the strings at the back together into intricate knots. Her wide hands deftly pulled and pinned back Isabela's dark locks until they were completely off her neck, high up in the form of three silken buns.

Heulwen stared at it in satisfaction, pride in her voice as she spoke, nodding her head.

'There ain't nobody in all the lands as pretty as my kitten.' She said approvingly as she brushed imaginary dust from Isabela's shoulders. Isabela smiled ever so slightly, trying in vain to conceal her yawn. 'Let us go down to breakfast.'

Sleep still weighed heavily on Isabela and it was obvious that for all her dimples and correct replies her mind was foggy and clouded. If it hadn't she would have immediately questioned why they were eating breakfast if it was almost noon.

On arriving in the dining hall downstairs, Isabela realized much to chagrin and indignation that the sun had barely risen from the tinged horizon. Her fury was evident by the sharp words which she threw at Peter who was grinning lazily.

'It's your fault you didn't look out the window.' He pointed out, reclining back elegantly in his chair and studying her impassively.

'Can you stop staring at me while I'm eating?' Isabela asked exasperated and still irritated.

'Gladly.' Thereafter he did not glance at her and instead began observing the hall instead. Still Isabela could not help but feel the intensity of his azure gaze on her whenever she glanced down.

Her plate was still heaped with food, courtesy of Heulwen who seemed to take it upon herself to make sure that she was stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving. One yawn followed another and she was too tired to eat properly. Only Heulwen's set face, staring intently on every piece that passed from the plate to Isabela's mouth, as if she intended to force it down should she see any break, compelled her to keep on eating.

'I wanted us to go around to the southern part of the estate today.' Peter stated, looking at her keenly. 'I think you shall enjoy yourself there.'

Isabela did not reply. Peter thought it was because of her annoyance at his morning joke but it was mainly because she was in danger of throwing up if she opened her mouth.

Heulwen collected the plates, heaping them together carefully and bellowing for the other servants to help her. As the others scurried about she began muttering under her breath about the 'the laziness of them no good servants'.

'What's there?' Isabela questioned as both she and Peter rose up.

'What's where?' Peter raised his delicate gold eyebrows.

'Where we are going.' She said impatiently, shooting him a glare. 'You knew what I was talking about.'

Peter passed over her second remark and instead dedicated himself to describing in great detail exactly how the southern part of the Northern March looked. Isabela listened fascinated despite herself and so engrossed was she in the conversation she did not notice the young girl bowing before Peter, a letter held out in her dusty hand.

Silently he ripped open the seal and scanned the two paged letter. Suddenly he laughed.

'What?' Isabela asked entirely nonplussed.

'Tell Heulwen to get one of your evening gowns ready for the night.' He said, waving the letter in her face. 'We have been cordially invited to a ball at the house of the honourable Lord Drian and Lady Judith of Lloyen Hall.

'Excuse me?' Isabela's bewilderment must have been very obvious for Peter glanced up and a soft smile appeared on his face.

'Just get ready.'

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'Well Sir what can I do for you. It is not often a wayfarer comes our way.'

Edmund would have been extremely comfortable and at ease had it not been for the old man who continuously leaned over him. Shrivelled and ancient, he left Edmund wondering profusely how he had so much energy to talk on and on and on. The gaunt lines of the man's face were lying in layers on his hale forehead and cheeks but for all his aged appearance his blood shot eyes danced with mirth, shrewdness and vivaciousness.

Honestly. I've never heard such a boring speech. And I grew up with Susan.

'I'm sorry lad. But what did you say your name was?'

'Edwin.' He answered automatically, his voice soft and compelling. He gazed across the table at the old man. 'And yours?'

'Ah, call me Ner.' He answered gruffly, reaching for the amber coloured liquid in the beer mug. The foam almost overflowed like a bunch of lilies over a waterfall and only a part of the handle was fully exposed.

Edmund stared disgusted as Ner gulped it down in one swoosh. His own drink lay unnoticed and untouched across from him. His hood covered his face very well and his features lay in shadows and darkness. Despite his repugnance and revulsion (Susan would be proud) he was glad at every drink Ner took. Each gulp meant the quicker he would get his answers.

It had not been easy or inexpensive to convince Ner to come with him. Only the idea of free drinks had finally convinced the old man to accompany the new stranger to the local bar. It was remote and filled with people of the worst crowd.

Edmund had chosen it for precisely this reason.

Nobody here knew him and it was better and far easier to negotiate with Ner without someone he knew bearing down on him.

He had met Ner earlier in the morning, nearly at the crack of dawn as he wove around town, weaving in and out of shops, talking to people here and there. Previously he had never been to this side of the Western March. True some of his soldiers often came here for fun and entertainment and he had kept tabs through them only. Now he understood why Queen Swanwhite the First had been intrigued by the people of the area.

They were special. Strange. All of them looked ordinary and would have passed easily for people of the neighbouring villages had it not been for their darting eyes and unique mannerisms. No, unique was too kind a word. Bizarre. Eccentric. Weird. All of them were perfect words to describe the locals. Finally he had met Ner whom he immediately gathered was much weaker than others. More prone to money, free drinks and the like….

'Why are you here, Edwan?' Ner's words were slurred.

'Edwin.' Edmund corrected. Grinning silently he looked sharply at Ner. 'I am here to ask you about some people.'

'Ask away, Edran.'

He didn't even bother to correct it this time. 'Do you know somebody named Vladimir also known as Vlad.'

'Old Vladimir?' Ner asked, leaning back. 'Brother of the Witches.'

'Yes.' Interested Edmund leaned forwards. 'Is he still here? What's he known as now?'

Ner relaxed into his chair and glanced at Edmund from his red-rimmed eyes.

'Last I heard he was up North. Just on the border of this country and the neighbours…eh….wait…..aha!...Aehenland…or was it Acenland?' Confused he rubbed his almost naked scalp.

'Archenland.' Edmund replied flatly, not bothering to keep the abhorrence out of his voice. 'You were saying?'

'Ah yes….As I was saying he was also called….'

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Isabela tried to smile politely as the ornament laden, glittering ladies reclining around her laughed heartily at Lady Judith's dry comment on one of her neighbour's servant. She failed miserably and instead opted for nodding her head. On and on the ladies prattled harmlessly about the latest gossip and scandals rocking the locals of the area. Apparently the wife of one of the neighbouring lords had eloped with the captain of her husband's army and the dogs of some lord had bitten another lord and the lady next door had worn a shockingly low evening gown to the balls held some weeks ago.

Isabela had never been fascinated by this world wide hobby of women around the world and the atmosphere in which she had grown into a young woman had never bothered to concern itself into other people's affairs. Admittedly Dane, Lorien and James, being men, had no interest in gossiping due to their natural genetics. They never cared to lend an ear to lowly, useless, unnecessary talk and entirely pointless at that as they pointed out. Ginerva herself had never indulged in this activity and yet she knew everything about everyone because the people around her found her as a friend in need, a shoulder to cry on. As a result Isabela herself had never cared to sit around with the other young ladies to discuss who did what, where, why, when and how. Worse still she found herself bored by it.

It was no secret to other ladies that the High Queen was entirely not interested in their conversation. They had tried time and again to indulge her in the talk and she had answered their queries warmly but briefly and to the point. She was a gracious lady, sociable and affable and very friendly but they could not help but notice the lacking note. They qualified their bewilderment over their dainty china cups with delicately raised eyebrows to Lady Judith who was the hostess after all.

'Isabela do tell us about your home. We are all eager to learn more about you.' Lady Judith said softly, clearing her throat. The pale gold dress showed small hints of the bright golden chemise underneath. Colourful embroidery lined the hems and the sleeves which were puffed up at the ends.

'Oh, Cair Paravel is very stunning. It draws your heart towards itself and you cannot help but fall in love with it. The Queens Susan and Lucy bring much brightness to the place and they are sisters to me. King Edmund is always joking around and makes all of us laugh greatly. It is….home.' Isabela's voice was almost dreamy. She added courteously. 'You must come and visit. I am sure you will love it.'

'You hail from Narnia?' One of the ladies, a huge woman clad in billowing red velvet which concealed the folds of fat asked.

'No. I was born in Liriope.' Isabela answered a trifle bit stiffly hoping against hope they would not question her about her family. The lady did not hear the back off note in her voice and went on.

'Wasn't Liriope occupied?' She asked oblivious to Isabela's discomfort.

'It was. It is currently under the rule of King Ashkan.'

'Oh.' The woman said for the lack of anything. 'Your family is there?'

Immediately the ambience of the room changed and it was so sudden and intense that all the ladies fell silent.

'Yes my brothers and sister-in-law were there before the siege.'

'Were? They are not there now?' Another woman asked whom Isabela compared to a mouse because of her pointed features, jutting chin, sharp nose and too prominent cheekbones.

'They are dead.' She answered flatly, her voice blank and her face devoid of any emotion. She struggled against the dull ache in her heart even as she said those words for her heart told her that her younger brothers must be alive.

'I'm sorry.' Judith answered uncomfortably. 'I am very sorry.'

The other ladies murmured their condolences, stifled apologies and kind words to her.

'Thank you for your consideration and sympathy.' Isabela replied formally, her eyes veiled from them. Again the ladies exchanged uncomfortable, questioning glances at each other, telegraphing their helplessness by lowered eyes and soft shrugs.

'Do go on with your conversation. I would like to know more about the people of the area.' Isabela said abruptly, painfully aware of the exchanged glances.

Gratefully Judith plunged into explaining in detail how she had come to be here, her marriage with Lord Drian, her huge plantation and the estate that surrounded the manor they were sitting in. The other ladies joined in, eager to escape their discomfort.

Isabela barely heard them and although she made the correct replies her heart was still throbbing painfully. Her mind was a long way off, hidden away in the lush fields of Liriope where a young Isabela ran squealing as her brothers chased her through the fields. Lorien, the most mischievous, picked her up, swinging her into the air by holding her legs. Screaming in fright she called for Dane and James to help her. Shooting a glare at Lorien, James came forth soothing his black haired sister and patting her head as he embraced her lightly. The scene shifted. Now she saw herself swaying on a garden swing as Dane propelled her forwards, patiently answering her million questions, explaining to her every thing she was confused about as the beautiful, red haired lady next door, Ginerva Sanchez, came into the garden. She had not known why Ginerva was there or why her brother suddenly flushed. It was a year later that she stood in a flowing white dress and bridesmaid's flowers in her hands watching the wedding of her eldest brother to the lady with red hair. Memories flew over her, a blur and she saw her father's stern but gentle face, her beautiful mother's serene, loving expressions, Dane's severe, just and handsome features, Lorien's eyes twinkling with mischievousness, James's calm, mild face with its tender expression and Ginerva's affectionate face in her vision.

'Lady Isabela?' Judith asked, gently shaking her. 'It is time for dinner.'

'Yes, yes.' Fumbling Isabela rose to her feet, smoothing her gown. 'Where to?'

'This way.' Judith pushed back her tawny braids, her owlish eyes searching Isabela's face. 'I am sorry for the earlier inconsideration. I truly did not want to remind you of….of your past memories. Please forgive me.'

'No. It is all right.' Isabela said awkwardly, trying not to sound sarcastic. Glancing around her she saw none of the ladies were around them anymore. 'Where are the other ladies?'

'They are already in the dining hall. I stayed behind to accompany you down.' Judith studied her face. They were almost near the dining hall. Isabela felt a great appreciation as the aroma of deliciously cooked food came to them. Hesitating slightly, Judith said. 'And my lady, you are not alone in your tragedy. My family too died during the siege on Liriope.'

Without giving the stunned Isabela a chance to reply she marched inside, taking Isabela in with her. Everybody was already seated and many glances rose questioningly at them. Amongst them was Peter's and that of a dark haired man beside him who rose up and bowed smartly taking Isabela's hand in his own huge one.

'Lady Isabela. What an honour to meet you in person. Truly a pleasure to meet a strikingly beautiful lady such as you. I hope you are enjoying the evening thus far?' He asked her, his twinkling eyes rising to meet hers. So he must be Lord Drian

'Thank you, my lord.' Isabela replied softly. 'Indeed I am enjoying myself very much. Rarely have I ever attended such a splendid event.'

Lord Drian suddenly grinned and softly punched Peter across the shoulder.

'I must say, my lord, your wife too has your gift of flattering and buttering up.'

'She does indeed.' Peter conceded finally. Lady Judith, excusing herself, gently guided Isabela to the other end of the table, talking to her in low, quiet tones befitting the lady of the house.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur and Isabela was scarcely aware of the time when both she and Peter took their leave, warmly thanking their hosts for their hospitality and kindness.

Outside it was raining cats and dogs. Rain poured down from the stormy sky as thunder and lightening coloured up the sky. Both of them were half drenched as they made their way back.

'Where are Lord Drian and Lady Judith from?' Isabela asked curiously back in the manor as Peter threw his lean, graceful body on the wide bed. 'Are they Narnian?'

'Lord Drian is from Archenland though his mother was a Narnian dryad. Lady Judith is from Calormene.'

'Oh.' Isabela replied for a lack of anything to say as she struggled out of the dress she had worn to the dinner at Lloyen Hall. The strings caught together tightly, clamouring together as she tried to untangle herself. Finally she managed to take off the dress, losing her balance and almost toppling over to the marble floor. Heaping the dress on the cabinet she reached up to untangle the complex knots of her long chemise. Spinning and twirling she tried to wound her fingers through one of the loops that bound together the other ones and instead tangled her fingers into her long locks. Finally in desperation she called out:

'Peter? Can you please untie the knots for me?'

'Why don't you call Heulwen and have her do it?' He questioned irritably from the behind the velvet drapes of the bed.

'Heulwen's out on an errand. She won't be back for another hour at least.'

'Then sleep in your chemise.' His voice floated back to her. 'I'm not a lady's maid.'

'Please, Peter?' She asked biting her lip as she writhed against the wall trying to undo the knots. Finally she heard him sigh heavily and rise to his feet. His shadow loomed over her as he turned her around, deftly pulling at the strings.

'Aslan's mane, Isabela! What did you do to get it into this much of a mess?' He growled under his breath. Heat rushed to her cheeks as he pulled again and she stumbled back against him. He called out exasperatedly. 'Stay still Isabela!'

'Sorry.'

'No need. Here.'

'Thanks.' She muttered as she loosened the untied knots. Sliding into her nightgown she slipped under the velvet covers of the seven poster bed, grateful for the warmth against the cold outside.

She was almost asleep when their came a hasty knocking on the door. Rousing herself as Peter jumped up to unlatch the door she saw the young guard she had seen earlier with a frightened expression on his face. His face was ashen and his hair stuck to his forehead.

'My liege, King Edmund….King Edmund… He… He is...'

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And so the story moves on… Many of you might be confused about the Vladimar and Vladimir mystery but soon it will become clearer to you. I will end the chapter on the same note. Please put forth your comments and suggestions…. Reviews please!

A. L. Potter