"Betrayal may be a family thing".
By Sinattea.
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Disclaimer: I adore Narnia, but I don't own it. So let's thank C. S. Lewis for writing the books and giving us such a lovely scenery for a fanfic.
Summary: How far can a Pevensie go, just to see Narnia again?
Today's chapter focuses on Peter and my OC. Yay!
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Note: Yeahp, still alive. Yeahp, still writing. Yeahp, still shipping. Nope, not very inspired right now, damn my lazy muse… But doing the best, yet. Original stories are just consuming me. Let's hope they give me a break for fics.
Read, enjoy, REVIEW! (What can I say? I'm addicted to reviews)
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Chapter 4: Swastika.
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Arabelle played for almost an hour, and most of the songs were narnian.
- You play beautifully – admitted Peter -. Where did you learn? – the boy felt suspicious that some fauns or dryads should have been involved in Arabelle's learning process.
- My father taught me when I was a child – she said, softly -. He was a musician, an orchestra director…
- I thought your father was the man from "Toffees & more". You have never mentioned him before.
- I don't talk about my family – blurted Arabelle, in a tone of voice that pretended to put an end to discussion. But Peter is a king, he's not used to do as he is told.
- Why don't we make a deal? Looks like you have things you'd like to say, so do I…
- To tell you my secrets I would have to blindly trust you first. That would take years. And I mean "years" like in "decades".
- That's what this deal's for – cleared Peter up -. I'll tell you a secret of mine, and then you'll tell me one of yours. That should be enough to trust each other, right?
- Maybe – said Arabelle, removing her hands from the piano.
Peter breathed deeply, as if facing an inner fight. There should be an easier way to make Arabelle confess the true narnian nature of the music she performed than telling her he was a king of Narnia. All right, there we go…
- I don't know anything about music – confessed Peter abruptly -. I lied to speak with you, for I'm absolutely sure I've heard all those melodies before.
Arabelle was sort of impressed, so she smiled.
- Nice one. I guess now I must say something… – Peter invited her to speak with a gesture of his hand -. The man from "Toffees & more" is my uncle; he has taken care of me since my parents died.
- I'm sorry…
- It's all right… – "Arabelle! You can't sincere yourself to him! Think of it, you fool! If you tell him you'll have to tell Lucy, and then Edmund and then Susan… and you won't be forgiven… Lie!" - …I was leaving Scotland anyway.
- Are you from Scotland? – asked Peter skeptically - Your uncle's accent was supposed to be scottish?
- Well… He comes from Denmark – added Arabelle just in time to disguise her lie.
Peter seemed to ignore her lie, because right after that he confessed himself as an excellent horse rider. They spent a while talking, until Peter decided it was time for him to leave, so he went back to his bedroom as Arabelle stayed behind drumming her forehead against the piano for her foolishness: "Du Trottel! Schottland?". Definitely wasn't one of her best lies.
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It is necessary to mention that during those first weeks all the professors had a pretty weird behavior before they registered the assistances and absences at the beginning of the classes. They read the student's lists in silent, gasped in disbelief, and delayed a couple of minutes to recover. Then pronounced every student's name to take list, as usual. But they said only the names, never mentioned one single surname.
Everybody thought it was weird, but they might have a good reason. That's the way it worked during the first month.
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The answer came the day the professor of History left Britton's because of an emotional crisis: he received a letter from the army telling him that his son was officially lost in action. So he was replaced by a new teacher. Professor Smith was this young and rough man, incredibly handsome despite the war scar he had across his left eye.
- And ya wanna know why? – he said, fixing his eyes in his class – 'Cause I fought in the war. Went to France's border limits and killed a thousand fucking nazis. They eliminated almost the whole regiment… with bombs, but I and another five soldiers survived and shot those goddamned nazis while they were asleep. Stupid germans, they thought they had the war in their pockets…
- So… you are a war hero? – asked a boy.
- Yeah. Decorated with Medal of Honor, highest american insignia.
- You come from the USA?
- Yeah, american to the very last drop of this military blood.
An excited gasping spread amongst the classroom. Professor Smith seemed quite self-satisfied. He sat on the teacher's desk, lifted his legs and rested his feet (with military boots) on the table. Then he grabbed the list and started calling complete names, worriless.
- Pevensie, Susan?
- Present – she said, without raising her eyes from the history book.
He kept pronouncing names aloud. And suddenly he stopped, observing the list as if he were watching a very complicated map with the nazi advance. He sort of was…
And he burst in laughing. Mean, sarcastic laughing.
- Auster… – he laughed even louder -. Austerlitz, Arabelle! – he shouted, overwhelmed by uncontainable rage.
Not only Susan, everybody lifted their eyes from the books, and looked around in confusion and fear. They whispered, and moaned and complained. Could she be? Austerlitz was a german name; and England has suffered a lot because of the german war.
- Arabelle Austerlitz! – he repeated, louder - Which one of you has this fucking german name?
- I do – said a cold and feminine voice.
Susan stared back, and saw her roommate (and Lucy's friend and Peter's friend) stand up with her chin up high, her black hair glowing darker and her gray eyes glowing colder.
- I am Arabelle Austerlitz – she confirmed, and accent in her voice no one had ever heard before -. And you weren't supposed to say my name.
Professor Smith seemed disconcerted for a second, but immediately recovered composure.
- Are you german? – he muttered.
- Born and raised in Munich. Daughter to a german father and to a german mother. I've been living here five years, and if you ignored my last name as you were supposed to, you could have easily confused me with another british.
- I seriously doubt so, pretty little nazi.
- I would hardly use that word to describe myself. Can't you think of anything better?
The american teacher began to look threatening, and Arabelle seemed to be smaller by the second compared to him. Susan saw her gulp in regret, with trembling hands, and decided to interfere. Nobody deserved such a humiliation.
- Is this somehow relevant in our History class? – she asked, with the proud tone of voice of a queen - According to the other professor's schedule we should be talking about the Roman culture and its influences in the modern world. Germany is still too recent to be considered as history.
Arabelle looked at Susan with gratitude written all over her face. It had been a gentle and noble gesture from the Pevensie girl to defend her.
- Great – mocked the professor -. Nazis ruined Europe and now they're gonna ruin this school. Sit down and keep the mouth shut.
Arabelle did so, not for obeying the professor, but because her legs were trembling so much she hardly could stay on her feet. She couldn't talk at all, there was a lump in her throat. But in the other hand, everybody else in the classroom seemed indisposed to keep quiet. Looks and words of hate surrounded Arabelle like an indomitable tide.
Her biggest fear had become true: part of her top secret had been painfully revealed.
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The worst came when the class finished. As soon as the bell rang everybody seemed ready to leave the classroom in a second. Arabelle was about to run straight to her bedroom, to hide or something, when professor Smith called her.
- Not so fast, miss Auschwitz – he derided -, you got a ticket to detention. The rest of you may leave.
Arabelle froze in the door, while everybody walked by, bumping her sideways and whispering curses and coarsenesses to her. She felt like crying, but she wasn't going to in front of professor Smith, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Everybody was now gone, except Susan. She was still in her seat, pretending to order her schoolbag as an excuse.
- You may leave too, miss…
- Pevensie – said Susan, arrogant as only a queen can be. So true that she wasn't very fond of her roommate (they didn't talk much, and consequently, they didn't know each other), but she definitely didn't like this professor's bad manners.
- Whatever, I said you can get out of this classroom.
Susan slammed her History book closed, and headed to the door, where she walked by a terrified and ashamed Arabelle. They have been living together for a month, and Susan would have never expected she would see Arabelle so fragile and scared when she was so smart and resourceful with Lucy and Peter. But also she would have never imagined that Arabelle was german.
- Good luck – she whispered. Arabelle didn't answer.
Once Susan was gone, Arabelle had to face professor Smith.
- Detention, miss Auschwitz – he repeated, mischievously.
- That's not my… – she tried to complain, but her voice didn't want to come back.
- And ya wanna know why? – the answer was pretty obvious: because he hated germans -. Because you raised your voice and were disrespectful to me. And now you're gonna write some lines on the blackboard to me.
Arabelle was mute, she couldn't reply anything; she didn't dare to. It was happening again… It was all happening again…
- Now ya write… "Germany lost the war". A hundred times.
- What does it have to do with history? – she mumbled, and regretted it at the second.
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Susan waited outside the classroom, trying to spy on the conversation within. She couldn't hear much, only that professor Smith had said that the germans lost the war, then Arabelle replied something, and then… Had he hit her? That noise was definitely a smack.
All right, that was it. Susan was ready to interfere again when Arabelle sneaked out of the classroom and ran away. When the Pevensie girl looked inside the classroom with all of her discretion, she had a glimpse of professor Smith with a bleeding mouth.
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As Arabelle ran, there were tears in her eyes. Her ears rang in the oddest of ways: she could almost swear she heard a wolf's howl after her as she got across the school fast as lightning. She couldn't make it to her bedroom. Tears exploded in her eyes before she reached the stairs, and to avoid more humiliation, Arabelle went to the bathroom and locked herself in a cubicle, where nobody would see her. There she stayed for an hour, until her thoughts ceased to scream, her eyes to weep, and her memories to blame her. Her breathing was rough, as if she was sick, but at least she was crying no longer. She hated crying, made her feel pathetic.
But it was so sad: she had been so close. Everything was going fine, she didn't have many friends, but she didn't have enemies either. And now that was all gone. By that time probably the whole school already knew that there was a german girl within Britton's walls.
Arabelle sniffed.
There were voices down the corridor, coming towards the bathroom. She kept quiet.
- Are you sure she's in here? – asked an acute voice.
- Totally. She definitely hid in there.
Great. Now people were looking for her to tease her? Absolutely great. Sarcasm can be a really dangerous weapon once in a while.
- You should go talk to her.
The bathroom door opened. Arabelle lifted her shoes and rested them on the toilet, so no one could see her from outside the cubicles. A pair of black, shiny shoes walked slowly through the bathroom. And then some locks of red hair appeared under the door's cleft.
- Arabelle? Are you there? – the black shoes kept moving - It's me. It's…
- Lucy – Arabelle had stepped on the ground and opened the door. She stared at the youngest Pevensie in shame and something similar to anger.
Lucy felt surrounded by a sudden cold, her shoes cracked as if frozen, and the mirrors seemed to be frost-covered. She had a terrible reminiscence: a tall woman, in a white dress, with a freezing glare… Jadis was her name, wasn't it?
- Why are you here? – asked Arabelle, pulling Lucy back to reality. The red haired girl had some shivers, but she recovered composure -. I'm sure by now you've already heard it… You here to tell me how much you hate me?
- Why would I say such an awful thing? If you think so, then you don't know me.
- I've met a lot of people, and they always change when they find out the truth.
- Well, I'm different – said Lucy -. I don't care if you're german, Arabelle, you're my friend, and we've had a great time together.
Arabelle looked like crying again, but she simply sniffed. The bathroom was so cold.
- Even after the wars? You don't care I'm… deutsch?
- Fortunately my family survived the war. And it's not like you grabbed the guns and fought against us…
Arabelle paralyzed, feeling so embarrassed that she was about to laugh in a very silly way. That was another lie…
Lucy noticed something was going wrong, and rapidly made it up.
- Even if you were a telmarine, believe me there's no reason why any of us would treat you any different…
- A what? – Erwischt!
Lucy froze, why did she have to mention the word "telmarine"? She was thinking of Caspian! God, what a mistake she'd made.
- Nothing, childish fancies. The point is that nothing's going to change. The only different thing is that now I know more about you.
Arabelle felt a little solaced and she held Lucy's hand in gratitude. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, maybe she could manage to keep her friends together. One of them was there, with her, and the other…
- Does Peter already know it? – suddenly she felt in panic, because now Peter knew that she had shamelessly lied to him. How would Peter take it? She didn't need to know him to foretell it would be a negative reaction.
Lucy shrugged meaning she didn't know. Probably they haven't seen each other in the whole day, due to their different school schedules. Arabelle would have to wait until the end of the day before facing Peter, but she already suspected that he would be incredibly upset because of her lies. Could that break the deal? Yes, it definitely would.
- I need to talk to Peter. I just can't believe it's happening again – the german girl whispered and leaned against the lavatories as she began to wash her face, she needed to refresh. Meanwhile, Lucy patted her back comfortingly.
- If it makes you feel any better – said Lucy -, your british accent is perfect, no one will notice it's you.
- We both know that's a lie. My classmates will sort out the confusions.
- But not Susan – Lucy added immediately -. She told me, but she won't mention it to anyone else. She's right outside, making sure nobody walks in.
- Quite gentle from her – Arabelle stated.
- Yes… Su… she's gentle.
Arabelle grabbed a towel and cleaned her face dry. She noticed Lucy's nervousness, and that made her smiled, because it meant that the Pevensies were, indeed, hiding a secret.
- Come on – invited Lucy, trying to distract Arabelle's thoughts -. Let's find Peter.
That managed to erase every thought from her mind, leaving it completely empty.
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Chaos had taken over the entire school. When Peter left his classroom, two minutes were necessary for him to hear the news about the german student. A girl from the new History class, with black-raven hair, pale skin, and quiet manners, who was apparently shy.
The truth is that Peter didn't think of Arabelle immediately; she would have said it to him, after all they had a deal. It was Edmund who opened his eyes.
- Have you heard? – he asked his older brother - The whole school is all freaked out because of this german girl studying in here.
- So I heard. Who do you think it is?
They were walking fast through the corridors, but then Edmund suddenly stopped, and pulled Peter's arm for him to do the same.
- You're joking, right? You were supposed to be the first to know. You or Lucy.
- Why? – Peter was simply trying to fool Edmund. He knew it already, it wasn't so hard to unravel, but it was hard to believe.
- It's your friend! Susan's roommate. Her name is Arabelle Austerlitz, isn't it?
Peter glared at his brother, and began to walk again, faster than before. He knew from the beginning Arabelle had lied, but he didn't suspect the lie to be so cynical. Now he was raging. She lied to him! How dared she to lie to the High King of Narnia? Now Peter could never trust her: she didn't say a thing about her past in this world, how would she ever confess herself about anything related to Narnia? But Peter was silly for thinking so. He would never be able to let all of his frustration out; leaving Narnia forever was so freaking painful… He didn't want to share those angry thoughts with Lucy, who was so sensitive and so fond of Aslan. He couldn't talk to Susan about it, because she wanted to forget but he wanted to remember. And he couldn't talk to Edmund about it: he was upset, Edmund was upset too… wouldn't that conversation end into pandemonium?
But there was something about Arabelle that made Peter feel like he could say those things to her. Something in her eyes told him that somehow Arabelle felt the same way he did, that she was also frustrated and pained for leaving something far behind, that she also dreamed of distant horizons…
And now, Peter understood that they would never trust each other.
He kept walking, faster, faster, bumping whoever dared to obstacle his way. Edmund followed him.
- Are you all right Pete?
- Perfectly…
- Listen, I know it's hard to believe and everything, but if she's really your friend you should go and stand up for her… Many people here lost family in the war, and I'm afraid they'll try to make her punishable for it… Peter? Peter!
But he was already too far down the hallway.
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Arabelle tried to speak to Peter during dinner, but he avoided her very successfully. Even Lucy was completely surprised by such a behavior, "Peter's not like that" she said to herself over and over again. And for the first time in a long time, she realized that Peter wasn't acting very much like himself in the last months, that something was upsetting him beyond any solace she could give him.
- Peter, we need to talk – said Arabelle when she finally managed to reach him.
- And what do you want to talk about?
- You are upset – confirmed Arabelle -. Why are you upset?
- You didn't tell me you're german, that should give you an idea. We were supposed to trust each other, right? And you lied!
- Peter, I couldn't tell you anything! I swear! It's not only my secret to tell, think of my uncle! The store would go straight to bankrupt if somebody found out about our origins.
- Damn it, Arabelle! I'm not angry with you for being german, I'm angry because you lied! And I wanted to trust you… I can't believe that I seriously thought of telling you about… – Peter shut. He was going to mention Narnia, but held himself in time.
- About what Peter? What? – Arabelle almost shouted - Do you also have a secret that does not belong only to you?
Peter froze, considering for the first time that Narnia wasn't only his lost kingdom, it was the lost land of his brother and sisters too, even of his cousin. Perhaps he didn't have the right to share the secret with someone else, just like Arabelle. His anger appeased a little bit, yet he had to deal with some inner demons before responding the german girl.
- We'll discuss it later – he said, and then left.
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Note (again):She is german! She is! A chocolate cookie to those who guessed it!
Do you want to know her story? Keep reading!
And no, I know anything about the USA, I'm mexican, I guess you figured that out. ^^ But I actually like Professor Smith, he is quite a figure, isn't he?
I'm not very inspired for notes right now, I just want to thank to those who read, thank and love those who review, and build a pure-gold monument to MakingDayBreak, who just made my day. THANKS SO MUCH, MDB!
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