Although her room was elegant and her bed was comfortable, Adara did not sleep well that night.
She had only been in Cair Paravel for a few hours, and she had already managed to mess things up.
Royally.
Her tired body was still reeling from the shock of finding out that the seemingly average man she had come across in the woods was, in fact, the High King. She tossed and turned, her heart beating rapidly and her stomach churning, as she thought about what had transpired that evening.
She had heard a noise and had reluctantly approached the man in the woods (looking back, it did seem rather foolish of her…though, she supposed, her dreadful life had such little value at this point that she had, perhaps subconsciously, hoped to meet a terrible end before she could carry out what she had come to do). The man had seemed nice enough, the sort of pleasant fellow that she might have shown some interest in if she had not had more pressing things on her mind, and he had introduced himself simply as "John." She had no reason to question him on this and, since he said that he worked at the castle (something that, even in retrospect, was not a lie) she followed him towards the Cair.
At first, she hoped he would not attempt to strike up a conversation, but as they rode she found herself increasingly tempted to speak; it felt like ages since she had had a human companion, and talking felt good after such a long and silent journey. A part of her would have loved to tell him the whole wretched story then and there, and ask him to help her find some way to save her village without sacrificing the High King. But, she reminded herself, she could not breakdown in front of this stranger, for the sake of her mission, and her family. For all she knew, he was one of the spies Daegan had spoken of, and doing that could put everything in danger.
She could not afford such a foolish mistake.
Their conversation had been pleasant enough, though speaking about Queen Susan's balls had brought up memories of Maive which now gave her much pain. As she choked back her tears, she made a silent vow that they would one day attend a grand party together, once Daegon and his men had left their village in peace. That happy thought had allowed her to continue…though, looking back, she wished that she hadn't.
She had gone on to talk about the High King, describing the praises of the villagers and even the embarrassing swooning of many local girls. His laugh at this has taken her aback, and for a moment she hoped that his amusement indicated that the seemingly flawless man she had been sent to kill was not the great King everyone claimed he was. The situation would, admittedly, be easier of King Peter was said to be a selfish and much hated despot. She still loathed the prospect of killing anyone, but assassinating a tyrant was better then assassinating a well loved and benevolent king.
He had told her that the king was not quite as glorious as his reputation had led her to believe, but did not condemn him as she had hoped he would.
They were nearing the castle at that point and, with a new air of authority in his voice, he had informed her that he would make sure that her horse was well cared for. At first, she had assumed that he was one for the stable boys, but he had then stated that he would ensure that a room was readied for her was well. She had wondered what gave such say over these matters.
Seeming to be quite the gentlemen, he had come over to help her dismount, but she rushed off of her horse and instinctively recoiled. Irrational as it may have seemed, her experience in Daegan's camp had made her wary of all men, even ones that had done her no harm. John had seemed decent, but the thought of his touch, even for a second, made her insides churn.
He had smiled graciously, and led her towards the castle without comment. She wondered, as she followed a few feet behind, how he had come to live here and what his connection was to the Royal Four. The closer they got to Cair Paravel, the more he carried himself like a man of some nobility; perhaps he was a lord on one of the Kings' councils, or a foreign dignitary of some kind…
Not once did the actual truth cross her mind.
The guards gave him small bows as he passed (odd, she had thought) and he pushed open the large oak doors, proceeding into the castle's entranceway. Two other figures were standing near by, a centaur and a young dark haired man whose silver crown indicated his position. For a moment, she focused only on the elegance of the stunning entrance way- the smooth marble floors, rich tapestries, and elaborate golden candlesticks were far more beautiful then anything she had seen during her life in Doorn. If she had been there for any other reason, she would have been thrilled by the sight of it all, but as it was, Adara would have traded all of the elegance of the Cair for a simple night at home with Maive and her mother in their humble cottage.
Frivolous pleasures lost all meaning when more important things were at stake, she had mused.
The conversation taking place before her, however, pushed all other thoughts from her mind.
Her companion had addressed the king in front of them as simply "Ed," not your majesty or your highness…and, seconds later, King Edmund had called "John" Peter.
The name had rung loudly in her ears, and everything else seemed to stop.
Peter.
She had been thankful that she had not stepped further into the hall as the cold stone wall behind her was now the only thing keeping her upright.
He was Peter.
The man who had found her in the woods and tried so hard to make pleasant conversation with her was the High King.
And, even worse, he was the target.
Her dagger seemed to brush harshly against her side, a brutal reminder, as she swayed slightly, still trying to absorb the unexpected news.
Why had he been so kind to her? So understanding?
If only he knew…
She had looked up to see his earnest blue eyes watching her, and the dread she had felt since her mission began became almost unbearable.
"Peter." She had stuttered, cutting him off. "You're High King Peter."
He confirmed her statement and apologized for his deception, something which only made her feel worse. Adara had felt nothing but hatred him for him at that moment; everything was falling apart, and she had only just arrived. She hated him for making matters even more complicated then they already were.
This was not what she had planned.
She had been going through possible scenarios ever since Daegan had assigned her this unfortunate task; she knew that she would have to talk to the High King at some point, or at least follow him to some secluded corner of the castle before she could complete what she had come to do. But she had not wanted to get to know him in any way- she had not been lying when she told "John" that she had no interest in meeting the kings. She had decided, during one of her many sleepless nights on the way to Cair Paravel, that it would be best to speak to the King and his family as little as possible; getting to know them, or worse, like them, would make things infinitely harder. She had wanted the High King to remain a cold and distant figure in her mind, and she knew that it would best if she formed no attachment or sympathy for him.
But it was too late to change things now. She had met Peter, talked to him, and decided that he was a decent man before realizing that he was the one she had been sent to kill.
If he hadn't lied about his identity, she thought bitterly, she could have completed her mission in the secluded forest and returned to Doorn as swiftly as possible. They never would have conversed, and she could have been the cold and heartless killer she knew she had to be. His childish game, and her own stupidity had cost her the perfect opportunity, and her family and village would now suffer longer for her mistake.
She had allowed herself to be led out of the hall by a young faun, her mind millions of miles away from her body, which seemed to be moving on its own accord. She politely declined the offer of food, and soon found herself alone in the elegant, dark bedroom she now occupied.
Hastily changing into her sleeping clothes, she had sprawled out on the comfortable bed, her mind spinning and her body sore from the journey. Despite her fatigue, she knew that sleep would not come easily.
As she stared up at the dark ceiling, she could not push the image of his honest blue eyes from her mind. He may have been the High King, but he was still young, and he was full of a youthful innocence which somehow reminded her of her sister. His life was, undoubtedly, one full of burdens and responsibilities; he had seen horrible battles and made decisions no man his age should have to make- and yet, beneath it all, there was still a glimmer of childhood and laughter.
It pained her to think that she would have to bring that to an end.
She was no better then Daegan…
As her mind drifted back to the exchange between the two brothers in the entrance way, the knot in her stomach tightened again. Anyone who was in their presence for more then a moment could sense the deep affection between them, and she had taken note of the relief in Edmund's face as Peter stood before him, safe and sound.
She understood the sort of bond they surely had, and for a fleeting moment she thought that Peter might even understand and sympathize with her terrible position. What would he do, she wondered, if Edmund, Lucy or Susan had been enslaved by a horrible beast of a man? Would he do anything, no matter how dreadful, to keep them safe, or would he put others above his own family and own happiness and do what was best for the greater good. Perhaps he would understand why she was willing to come here with such an appalling aim.
Adara scoffed at her ridiculous musings and continued to stare up at the ceiling. It was absurd to think that the High King could possibly sympathize with his potential killer- a woman who was too weak to do anything but follow the will of a the man who had tormented her village. She was no longer chained to the floor of that wretched tent, but she still felt the pressure of the chains around her and she knew that she was still a prisoner.
She doubted that she could every really escape.
Letting out a shaky sigh, she wondered what would happen if she went to the Kings and Queens for help; perhaps they could forgive her for arriving with this grim goal, and would be able to gather the forces necessary to free her island. It was a tempting prospect, but the thought of the Daegan's spies in the Narnian court discouraged her from pursuing it. If he was true to his word, the moment the news of an attack spread through the court, the word would reach him and her family and village would feel his vengeance. She would be safe and sound in Cair Paravel, and Peter would be spared, but everything she held dear would vanish in an instant.
"Remember the price of failure."
Daegan's final words echoed in her mind, and the thought of Maive's tortured screams snapped her back to reality. She stared up at the ceiling, allowing the now-familiar numbness to overcome her.
Numb.
She had to stay numb.
It was the only way.
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A/N A bit shorter, but not so bad I hope. Please do tell me what you think- I am dying for feedback, good or bad. This is a bit of an experiment for me, and I would love to know if I am doing alright. Cheers!
Much Peter to come if I continue.
