1: Memories

Peter gratefully splashed water on his face from a decorative basin in the room that he shared with his brother. The room was surprisingly large for that of an inn, as well as it was clean which was one of the first things the High King noticed when he traveled. He pulled his gritty, once white undershirt above his head and threw it on the floor to join the other articles of clothing he had already stripped from his being in a pile on the wood floor. Grabbing a towel, he dunked it in the water, which was starting to turn brown, and began to scrub his chest and arms free of the dust and sweat that had plagued him for the two weeks he had been on the move.

Susan had thought that he needed something to do, other than the normal castle work, so had sent him to visit the Ambassador of the smaller Narnian provinces, such as the one he was residing in currently—as if trying to combat war was not enough to do. Calormen, the land south of the Great Desert, was in shambles. The monarch had been overthrown and the people fought against themselves for two different factions with completely different ideals had formed and thought the only way to solve their differences was to eliminate the other group. After the Battle of Beruna with the White Witch, this war was the bloodiest and saddest the Narnian Continent had seen.

However, there were some benefits gained by the war. For example, because of the fighting in Calormen, it had revealed to him and his family those in his presence who were only interested in personal gain and not in the interest of the people. Even though, as High King, he was debating on whether or not to become involved in the foreign affair (although it was on the same continent, the Calormens had made it quite clear that they intended to act as a foreign nation), Peter acknowledge and understood the consequences to the Narnians were he to rashly join the fighting and he was still unsure with whose idealology he agreed.

Yet, despite knowing the costs for even considering fighting with any kind of Calormen and his need to have time to think about things without being pushed, Peter knew there was another reason that Susan had insisted that he go from the castle. She had seen that he had not been sleeping well, but still pushed himself to the point of exhaustion. But he knew she would not understand—he couldn't sleep. He was haunted by a memory.

At the thought, a picture flashed through his mind, dimming his view. A picture of a woman. She had hair that was almost red, with a brown undertone that shone wonderfully in the sun. Her almond-shaped eyes were milky blue, almost white, giving her face a tan complexion. She was only just shorter than he was; her shoulders thrown back jauntily as her beautiful eyes sparkled with laughter, yet knowing while the wind playfully tossed her hair into her face.

He shook himself, the memory disappearing into the murky water as his eyes refocused; yet the image of her red lips stretched back in a smile revealing her white teeth remained. He swallowed, and unknowingly let out a breath. It was not really a sigh, but an exhalation of weariness. The woman, that troubled his thoughts, he would never forget. He did not think it was possible for him to forget her. However, he was tired of being trailed by her memories.

Everything he did reminded him of her. Whether it was at a public hearing in Cair Paravel or while he was reading in the library or in the privacy of his room; when he lay in his bed, waiting for the sleep that he knew would never come. Her laughter echoed in the halls or in the garden when he was attempting to get away from the chaotic activity inside the castle. The minty-vanilla scent that remained in the library belonged to her and she had left her mark in the kitchens with her sultry dishes that would quickly send people reaching for their mugs, yet asking for more.

That's why Susan had sent him away. She had hoped to uproot him from his place of memories so that he might actually get a decent night's worth of sleep. However, he knew that would be impossible. He had been trying for five years to remove the woman from his thoughts and the results had always been the same: more memories.

"Peter," Edmund's voice called, breaking his reverie among the creaking of the door.

Peter looked up into the mirror attached to the dresser and saw his brother walking over to the only bed in the room and placing a tray on it. "What is it, Edmund?" he questioned, over his shoulder turning his head to better see his sibling.

Edmund gave him a pointed stare. "Don't use that tone," he ordered. "I've brought you some food. Oreius says you haven't eaten very much for the last couple of days."

"I haven't been hungry," he sighed. Leave it up to Oreius to notice things like that. He walked over to his pack which he had dumped on one side of the bed that he had claimed as his. Rummaging through it, he finally found a clean undershirt and pulled it over his head. Despite the cloth blocking his view, Peter could feel his brother's eyes on him.

"You're going to have to acquire a new excuse," he stated matter-of-factly. "That one's been used so much I knew what you were going to say to me before you said it."

Peter's head popped out of the shirt. "All right," he mused. "How about…I'm too busy?"

The Just King attempted to keep his face expressionless, but failed horribly. "Busy doing what," he guffawed, trying to control the laughter that rose in him.

He just shrugged and smiled as he began to tuck his shirt into his pants. Yet, he must have given Edmund a strange look, for his brother was staring at him, a knowing look on his face.

"Peter," he said, softly. "It's been over five years."

He sighed. How is it that Edmund seemed to see right through him. "I know."

"I think it's time to move on, Pete."

"You think it's time?! I know it's time. Ed, I can't even walk down the hall without hearing her voice or her laughter, still." He sighed again. "I just want to know why she left. Maybe then I'd be able to go on with life." Peter felt his brother's reassuring hand on his shoulder and he smiled at him, reassuringly. "Sorry," he apologized.

Edmund shook his head. "No problem," he said the smile apparent in his voice. "I think you need to eat."

"I think I need to eat, too." Peter smiled, suddenly hungry. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the tray of food over to him. As he began eating, thunder rumbled. "We're going to have to stay the night," he said, around a mouthful of bread.

Edmund nodded his agreement, picking a piece of fruit up from the tray and popping it into his mouth. "Yes, but Oreius does not want to."

"We'll see," Peter said. "Hopefully, if it's just drizzle, then we can go on without much hassle. If we're lucky, the rain won't last long and won't be heavy."

Their luck must have run out.

The rain attacked the small village with a ferocity that was unknown to any of the Narnians. The wind blew down trees and felled entire homes in single gusts. Several of the men, including the two kings, worried over the security of the building and often they just waited for the storms to knock down the inn with them inside it. The rain turned the dusty roads into puddles of water and mud so thick it was almost like quick sand. When it didn't rain, it hailed: massive chunks of ice that were large enough to put a dent in a metal plate—or a man's skull. When it didn't hail the sky discharged icy blankets of sleet which proceeded to hit the window panes and freeze. It was miserable.

The Narnians were stuck. The slushy roads were unfit for travel and the rain would have made conditions miserable. Honestly, Peter could not say that he minded staying in the village for a few days, for he had not stopped at a place for more than two days before this. However, the people were amazingly friendly, common among Narnians, and the inn in which they stayed seemed to be where most people gathered on stormy days. So in a very short period, he had become acquainted with everyone.

It was nearing a week since they had been stranded in the village, and the Narnians, even Peter, were restless. Even now he sat at the only window in his room, drawing patterns on the frosty panes, like he used to do as a boy, and observing the little town quietly. Edmund sat on the bed, carving a figurine out of a piece of wood from a knife that had been a gift from his closest friend. He had been watching his brother, something strange about his behavior.

Every so often, he would turn in his chair to look behind him out of the glass, as if watching someone. When Ed had first seen this, he had thought it was a brave occupant of the village who was forced out of their home, into the rain from some dire situation. However, when his brother continued to look back, it had piqued his interests. What was his brother looking at? It was then, he noticed that his brother's gaze had frozen to something directly in front of him, but Edmund did not want Peter to think he had been spying so he stayed where he was, although he didn't know how he managed that.

Finally, whatever, it was must have vanished for, once again, Peter continued to stare, blankly out the window and Ed went back to carving the wood. Yet, for some reason, Edmund couldn't get his mind off what his brother had been watching. At last, he could stand it no longer.

"What were you watching, Pete?" he non-chalantly questioned, careful to keep his strokes even and steady.

"Nothing much," came the guarded reply that Ed was all to familiar with.

"Tell me about it," he pressed, continuing to shave the wood, but his strokes were no longer steady.

"Nothing much," he repeated. "A rider just came through."

"Oh."

"Yeah. He was slumped across the back of his horse, as if he was hurt or something."

At this, Edmund looked up with a frown.

"Funny thing is," Peter went on, "the horse stopped right at the doctor's office, as if it knew where it was going. Like I said, nothing much."

Edmund went back to carving the figurine. "Hmm," was all he replied. However, he had the impression that there was more than just "nothing" going on in Peter's thought and he had a funny feeling that he was, soon, going to find out.