When the gaze of my eyes meets yours,
I let myself go into the memories of the past.
I cloud the reality of my life
And live that moment as we were before.
When the gaze of my eyes meets yours
I feel both joy and sorrow,
Both the past and the present
And yet tomorrow is what I have.
When the gaze of my eyes meets yours,
I see a day in my life where you'll be mine again,
Where the memories of the past no longer brings pain,
But the joys for the love that forever remained.
- When the Gaze of My Eyes Meets Yours by Robert Kyle Newton
Another fist slammed into his side, and he doubled over in pain. He was sure that most, if not all, his ribs were broken. Blood filled his mouth, and he spit it out before he choked on the warm, red liquid. The ropes that bound his wrists behind his back were too tight, cutting deep into his skin and making his hands slick with blood, as well. A wave of pain washed over him, and he sagged against the two men that held him between them.
A hand grasped his hair painfully and forced his head up. Albion, supreme chief of the Wild Western Tribes, spit on him maliciously. "You will pay for your king's mistakes," he said in a gruff voice. "You will pay for every life that he took from my army, for every man that he commanded to be slaughtered."
"Please," he begged, hardly knowing if he was weeping or not. "Please, just kill me. But leave my people alone - they've done nothing wrong."
Albion struck him again, and he finally allowed himself to cry out. Dear Aslan, what have I done to deserve this?he prayed silently as Albion continued to beat him. What choice did I make that would inflict this punishment upon me?
He remembered the beginning of this journey like it was yesterday, the exact thing that had brought him to this moment.
Two months earlier...
"Please, don't go," Queen Lucy the Valiant begged him, dancing alongside his horse as he mounted.
Queen Susan the Gentle agreed, grasping the reins to his bridle. "Please," she said desperately. "Let the others handle it. Your campaigns have taken you away from home too often this year - every time, you come home with a worse injury than before."
He opened his mouth to speak, but King Edmund the Just maneuvered his horse next to him. "Sisters, peace," he told them in his gravely voice. "Our brother knows what he needs to do - if he does not ride out with our warriors, any moral they have will be gone."
The High King of Narnia, Peter the Magnificent, glanced at his brother. "Tis not true, brother," he protested. "You must come along as well, for there are many here that are more loyal to you than to me."
"Then I beg of you, take care of each other," Susan said in a final attempt to stall them, hoping the army would leave them behind. "Watch over each other and see that no harm comes to either of you."
The royal brothers leaned down to kiss their sisters lovingly. "We will protect each other to the death," Peter promised.
Lucy's lip trembled. "This is what fears me," she whispered, and then turned from them to bid goodbye to Tumnus with noisy tears, casting her arms around the faun and begging him to stay as well.
Peter turned his eyes from the scene. Their mission was dangerous, yes - the Western Wild Tribes had invaded parts of Narnia. They were pillaging any human villages in the land, killing the men and stealing away the women and children for their own devices. There was an influx of frightened people that had sought refuge at Cair Paravel - they had begged for the kings and queens to save their brothers, sisters, daughters, sons. The kings had taken up the call, assembling an army with enough force to wipe out the Tribes.
And now, on the day of their departure, when they had said nothing before, his sisters begged them not to go. Was there something they didn't know about? Some secret plot only the sisters were privy to? He shook his head to get rid of those unwanted thoughts and turned his horse to face the army.
They were innocent people - men creatures who had done nothing to deserve the fate that lay before some of them. Some of them wouldn't return at all - their bodies would be buried forever under the earth as a testament of what they had done. Others would come back scarred, different, unable to perform tasks they previously had been able to perform - these would wish for death, for death was better than that. Others would come home simply the same, with stories of horror to tell their wives and children.
And him? Peter would return to the Cair with the death toll weighing heavily on his head, no matter how few they lost. Each one was precious to him, each one a different story to hear. Some stories he would never hear.
Edmund nudged him. "Are you ready?" he asked, his dark eyes displaying the same emotion that Peter felt. He nodded and spurred his horse into motion, sweeping around the to come to the head of the force with his brother.
"Narnians!" he shouted, and the din of people quieted instantly. "Today, we ride to the air of our brothers and sisters of Narnia who are being overrun by these power-hungry Tribes of the West." A ripple of angry voices ran through the crowd, and he raised his hand to quiet them again. "The battle will be long - these Tribes are cunning and devious. But Aslan will bring us victory, as surely is His will for His people to see no harm." A shout went up, and the two brothers let the people cry out. Their faith was placed in Aslan - the people were newly reminded of it.
He turned to Edmund. "Lead them out, Just King." Edmund did so, and the people followed him willingly, banging their shields against their chests and giving up a mighty roar.
Peter watched them go, his face quiet and solemn. For all that is good and pure in this world, please help us, Aslan, he prayed desperately. Let them all come home.
And with that, he turned his horse and followed his men out, leaving his sisters behind.
The trip to the Narnian border was a long one, and it took them nearly three weeks to reach it with how big of a force they had to travel with. Peter had no doubt in his mind that the Tribes were well aware of their march to meet them, and he reminded his soldiers of this fact every morning and night. There were many who bravely spoke out as he and Edmund made their nightly rounds to encourage the troops - these were the men that would die for him gladly, willingly. Every man would lay his life down for Narnia's kings, but it was these men that Peter held close to his heart - it was these faces that he remembered for their wives and children.
It was their last night before they reached the little town of Etlina. It was one of the few towns that hadn't been ravaged on the western border, and they were intent on setting up troops to protect it. Peter left his brother with Tumnus and the eagle Pepperwing and flung his clock around his shoulders before disappearing from their tent to roam throughout the troops. He had not yet toured the southern quarter of his men yet, and he set off to rectify this fact. The trek was long, however, so he mounted his horse and maneuvered his way throughout the quiet camp.
He reached the southern quarter after half of an hour of riding, and he slowed the pace of his horse as he walked among his soldiers. Some recognized him immediately and gave him the noblest of welcomes, offering him drink and food and a merry time. He laughed and smiled and accepted a flask here and there, but ultimately went on to continue his way.
Others, however, did recognize his face and turned their eyes away from the High King with a listless look and burdened shoulders. It was these men that he stopped by, clasping their hands as friends and lifting their heads.
One man refused his hand. He was young, younger than Peter himself, and with eyes full of anger and rage. "I must be frank with you, High King," he said in a gruff tone. "I am here not for you or your kingdom, not for the men around me. I am here for my sister, for she was taken by the Men of the Wild West. As soon as I find her, I will take her home."
Peter sank down on the hollow log next to the man, aware of the crowd forming around them. It would reach Edmund soon, and he'd be along to help. "It is only right of you to want to take your sister to safety," he answered after a long moment, and a murmur went through the crowd. "But would she not be more protected if she is safely behind our lines being tended to instead of galloping halfway across our great country with the Tribes chasing you? She will be ill, wounded - I have no doubt about it." He eyed the man evenly. "Would you really wish your sister death even as you ride with her toward home?"
The man scoffed, his mouth stretching his face into a grimace. "Would they really follow a woman and a single man on a wild chase throughout Narnia?" He spit into the fire. "They would not look at us twice."
"You will have infiltrated their camp," Peter said patiently, but his voice held an edge to it that signaled authority to those around him. "You will have found out what tent they are keeping her in. You will have proceeded to cut her loose and get back out of the camp without them catching you. You will have stolen a horse, taken the time to tie her to the saddle, and then have mounted yourself. You will race through the camp, alerting all that you are escaping. They will shoot at you and your horse and your sister." Peter stood. "The Tribes are not unintelligent. You will be shot down before you can get out of the camp, if you even make it into their camp without being killed."
The man stood defensively. "You doubt my skills?" he demanded.
"If you can make it into their camp and back out with your sister, and do not abandon this force, I will kiss your feet and call you king for a month," Peter said firmly, holding out a hand to shake.
A murmur ran through the crowd, and the man eyed Peter's hand speculatively. "What is in it for yourself?" he asked slowly. "A king would not make that promise to a man who argues with him."
"There is nothing in it for me other than the satisfaction that my soldiers will not abandon me," Peter told him quietly. "I put great faith in people like you, soldier. Please tell me it is not misplaced."
The crowd was silent, and the man simply stared for a long moment. And then his hand clasped Peter's, and they shook their deal into existence. "Do not let me down," Peter said quietly in a kind voice. "I have a lot riding on you."
"If my sister is alive, I will bring her to the Cair and offer her to you as your wife," the man said with wide eyes. But Peter laughed at this and waved him aside, climbing back on his horse and turning back toward the direction of his tent.
Edmund met him when he was halfway back. "What did you do?" demanded the Just King, twisting his horse to stop Peter from going any further. "Tumnus just told me to get to the southern quarter."
Peter shrugged and slowed his horse to a walk, pulling around Edmund. "I did nothing," he told his brother. "Nothing but try and get my soldiers to fight for Narnia."
He had no idea how far his prodding would take him.