The Snow's Song
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The Pevensie children, Narnia, and all therein are the creation of CS Lewis.
The snow still talks to him, whispering dreams and hopes. Peter does his hardest to ignore them. All he needs to do, really, is remember what listening to the snow did to his brother, and it is enough to turn him away from it… at least for a little while. Since becoming King, since becoming the head of his family, Peter has always been put in a favourable light. Generally speaking, he tries to do his best, tries to be a good brother, a good King. But sometimes, he finds it hard not to listen to the strains of snow's song.
One particular cold and snowy day in Narnia has him further into the woods than he probably ought to be, and though Peter is shivering slightly, there is a slight smile on his face. He does not hear the callings of his younger brother, who has been sent to find him; he does not hear the wind as it whistles through the trees like a shivering promise. His eyes are fixed on the snow, transfixed, dreaming; his heart thumping in a strange, erratic beat.
When Edmund finds him, he mutters over how cold Peter is, how unfocused he seems. The High King murmurs a comforting lie, and allows himself to be led away from the snow, and back, back again into the comfort of Cair Paravel. As Edmund and Lucy hustle and bustle him into one layer after another, the High King smiles faintly, his ears catching sight of the whispers of a tune.
The winters in Narnia are always hard; especially with the past still haunting many of the residents. Edmund becomes quiet and withdrawn, focusing more on his law studies than ever before, whilst Lucy and Susan become loud and bustling, trying to make up for the absence of sound. They organise parties, and feasts, and great dances. Edmund and Peter are required to attend them all, of course. As High King, Peter is forced to dance with many of the maidens, and though some of them are very beautiful and witty, he finds himself more absent with them than ever. He lets the whirl of music take him as he spins across the room, effortlessly, years of dance lessons having perfected what once was a clumsy man. In this time, the strains of music from outside seem to fade completely, and Peter almost feels whole again.
Night-time is the worst. The snow whispers to him, and Peter can hear it as though it were a living entity, caressing and cajoling. He wants to answer, so desperately, but the reminder of what happened to Edmund when he was tempted stills him, strengthens his heart.
So he keeps resisting. He declines to go outside now, when Edmund suggests hunting, or trekking, and pretends not to see the hurt look on his brother's face. It is not Edmund's fault, truly, but Peter knows that it if he spends too long in the snow, then he might be caught by it once and for all.
Winter comes and goes, and Peter breathes in a sigh of relief. He takes in the warmth of the sun, managing to begin living once more, laughing and dancing with his siblings as he once did. Between them, Narnia is joyous indeed. A burden seems to have been lifted from her High King, and Narnia is not blind to it. Peter breathes in the air, allowing himself to simply be relieved. For now, the temptation has passed.
In the glorious summer, the High King finds himself growing nervous. There have been whispers of a cold frost, despite the sun, and he fears it might bring the snow back. Edmund is also quiet, for different reasons, and Peter finds himself wishing more that he were worried for the same reasons as Edmund. His brother, at least, has good reason to be worried. The straining of fear beginning to pull at him, the High King tucks himself away in his office, focusing on work, and ignoring all else.
With the autumn, Aslan comes to Narnia. Lucy's joy at seeing the Lion is infectious, and soon the Castle is dancing and throwing parties once more. During one such party, Peter happens to catch the Lion's sorrowful gaze across the room, and instead of being able to meet it as he once had, drops his gaze to the floor. Nearby, Susan glances at her brother, seeing the still change in him. Reaching over, she touches his cheek, quickly withdrawing. "Peter, you're as cold as ice!" She murmurs, concern filling her voice. Peter simply smiles bitterly, and shrugs, murmuring an excuse before slipping from the dance-room, unable to eat any more, food having turned to ash in his mouth.
Edmund finds him a little while later, and though Peter turns his head away in a clear reluctance to speak, the younger apparently refuses to heed his brother's reluctance. He questions Peter, voice low, and though Peter does not answer, Edmund's voice begins to show a certain terror. He clutches his brother's arm, flinching at the coldness of the skin. Peter has no right to be so cold, especially not with most of the fires in the Cair lit, and the Castle as warm as it can be. "Peter…?" he begins to ask, but is brushed aside as Peter turns away from him, trying to escape.
Edmund lets him go, staring after his brother with a troubled frown.
After that, the Just King watches the blonde far more keenly, noting every mouthful that Peter does not take, noting every time the King refuses to hunt. His brother's current behaviour is frighteningly familiar, but Edmund cannot believe it of his golden, chivalrous brother. Peter is as true as Lucy, and nothing, surely, can change that.
The wheel turns, and Winter returns with it. Peter's mood worsens, and he walks about in a bit of a daze, ears tormented once again with the song of the snow. One evening, he slips out, just for a little while, to indulge himself in Her voice. It is so very familiar, after all, and he cannot help but listen to something so enticing. A touch on his shoulder, and Peter turns, lips curving into a blue smile. "Yes," he murmurs. "I thought it might be you."
It is several hours later when he is eventually found, by Susan and a pack of leapords, climbing their way through the snow, with Edmund and the lions having gone another way, in a desperate attempt to find the High King. Lucy is already with him, her eyes wide as she reaches out and touches the cold, frozen fingers of her oldest brother, his mouth frozen in a laughing smile.
"Peter…" A sob wrecks her body, and the youngest slides to the ground, as Susan stares at the iced sculpture of her eldest brother, filled with shock.
Finis
Author's N: I've been struggling with writer's block for ages, and wanted to write something winter based. This odd little piece came out. I'd love any thoughts and criticisms!