Author's Note: I loved writing this chapter. I found it quite instructive. Anyway, thanks for the reviews. It took a while writing it because the first time I had typed it, I didn't like the flow of it so I had to erase nearly almost all of it, which nearly killed me. So here's the more improved version.


Chapter Nine: What's Wrong with You?

Aceline sat on the grass just outside her tent, her knees against her chest. She was thinking about what Aslan had just said to her. She laid her chin on the crook between her knees. She sighed at was still in store for her. The girl was still deep in her thoughts when she heard a sound vibrate though the air. It sounded as clear as crystal and as smooth as water. It was short and sweet and repeated itself three times.

But most importantly, it sounded urgent.

"Susan!" she shouted. She was running to where the horn had been blown. But yards in front of her was Peter. She had somehow joined Aslan and a group of soldiers.

"Get back!" Peter yelled, drawing his sword swiftly. Aceline was finally able to take in the scene. Susan and Lucy were up in a tree, two wolves snapping at them from below. Her stomach dropped as she realized that the older Pevensie girl looked like she was about to faint. One of the wolves turned and snarled at him.

"Come on! We've already been through this before. We both know you haven't got it in you," Maugrim's voice growled.

"Peter, look out!" Susan shouted. The other wolf--the same one who had attacked Mr. Beaver--had tried to get him from behind. He snarled as he realized he was caught. Suddenly, Aslan roared, holding the wolf down with his paw.

"No," he said. "Stay your weapons. This is Peter's battle." Aceline still didn't put away her sword. She held it firmly in her hand, just in case if any other wolves showed up.

"You may think you're a King," Maugrim said. "But you're going to die like a dog!" With a growl, he leaped on Peter.

"No!" she yelled, drawing the soldiers' eyes upon herself.

"Peter!" the sisters screamed. Both girls dropped onto their feet and rushed over to their fallen brother. With a grunt or two, they pushed the wolf off of him. The boy sat up, looking from the dead Maugrim to his sisters. A minute later, they all had their arms wrapped around each other. For a moment, Aceline wanted to strangle him for making her worry. She stared onto the scene. Suddenly, the wolf, who she thought was dead, managed to get out of Aslan's grip. It ran off in the opposite direction of the camp.

"After him," the Lion ordered. "He'll lead you to Edmund." The soldiers ran after the wolf at Aslan's command. The girl gazed over at Him, not sure if she could follow or not. He looked over at her and nodded. She smiled and ran in the direction of the soldiers. She passed the siblings, who looked rather surprised to see her running after the wolf.

"Aceline-" Peter began.

"I'll be alright, don't worry," she interrupted. Catching up to the soldiers wasn't particularly difficult. What was the difficult was not flying out because of the stares that they were giving her. One Centaur--she remembered that Aslan had called him Oreius--was staring at her intensely.

"Daughter of Eve," he began, "why are you here?"

"Aslan said I could come." Oreius nodded in acceptance.

Suddenly, the troops halted.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

"We have arrived," the Centaur replied in a voice of equal volume. He hadn't been looking at her. Instead, he was staring straight ahead. She looked and felt her stomach drop.

The Witch's camp was positively dreary.

"Soldiers." Aceline looked back at Oreius as he spoke. "This is the moment where you shall prove yourselves. If we die, we die with Aslan as our good lord." The troops nodded, every one of them looking determined. The Centaur's words had left an impact on her. Aslan is my good lord. She took a deep breath, her sword held in hand. The next moment, she found herself running into the camp. The Witch's army looked more surprised than anyone she had ever seen in her life. Everything soon became a blur to her. A cracked voice broke the air.

"It is time you die, little prince," it said. She whirled around, her violet eyes searching for the speaker. She found a dwarf with black hair and a beard to match standing in front of a boy, who was struggling against the bonds that tied him to a tree

Edmund.

Out of nowhere, Oreius appeared, pointing a rather large sword at the dwarf. She took advantage of this distraction to run over to Edmund. With a slash of her sword, she cut through the ropes. Then, she helped him up. The boy was staring at her as if he had never seen her before. She gave him a small smile.

"Are you alright, Son of Adam?" a cheetah asked. He nodded fearfully, looking over at Aceline, who noticed that he was giving her a look that yelled for protection. She gently squeezed his hand before turning to Oreius. Her eyes focused on the spot where the tip of his sword was on the crook of the dwarf's neck. She noticed that Edmund was giving him a look of utmost loathing.

"What shall we do with him, General?" the same cheetah inquired. Oreius looked undecided for a moment. An idea formed in the English girl's mind. Her eyes darted between Edmund and the dwarf.

"Shall we tie him to a tree, Ed?" she asked, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. The boy looked at her in shock for a second before his face broke out in a grin.

"Let's." Aceline grabbed the dwarf and hauled him over to the tree. Edmund held the remains of the rope that had held him to the tree. Pressing the dwarf against the bark, they soon had him tied down. It was he who had the idea of gagging him. With a last twist, his hands strengthened the knot. He grinned tiredly at her. Suddenly, his knees shook. Aceline's hands caught him before he fell.

"Are you alright?" she asked, a concerned frown appearing on her face. He looked at her.

"A little tired," he answered, a flush appearing on his pallor. She nodded. She laced her arm under his shoulders.

And they walked (or at least tried to) all the way to the camp like that.

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A yawn escaped her lips as she walked into her tent. She was perfectly tired. Her eyes looked at the overhead canvas before slowly sliding shut.

It seemed that only a second later, someone was shaking her awake. Her hand slapped the person away. But the figure still continued to shake her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open and she sat bolt alright. She managed to focus on the person in front of her.

It was Peter.

And he looked annoyed.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked him, rubbing her eyes. "Couldn't you see I was trying to sleep?" The boy ignored her.

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you! You could have gotten yourself killed by following the soldiers. Irritation erupted inside her.

"Hark who's talking. You could have gotten yourself killed by Maugrim." Peter looked livid.

"Well, maybe you hadn't noticed," his voice dripping with sarcasm, "that I was trying to save my sisters."

"I commend you for that." Her voice was equallly dosed with sarcasm. She stood up and faced him, hands on her hips. "But you shouldn't you be thanking me? After all, I did help save your brother."

"I can save my own brother, thanks," he said stiffly.

"Why didn't you then?" Her question was sharply put.

"I couldn't have followed you because Aslan knighted me." A smug expression--one that she would have loved to knock off his face--appeared as he watched her boil in anger. He knighted that-that-that prat? All he did was slay a wolf! What's so difficult about that? Irritation was soon replaced by jealousy.

"Just because you killed a wolf? Ha! Anyone could do that," she said, taking pleasure in the fury that was displayed on Peter's face.

"I'd loved to see you try," he told her. "Maybe you'd even get hurt. That would surely shut you up." Out of nowhere, her hand connected with his face as she smacked him. He glared at her as he touched his red cheek.

"Don't you dare touch me!" he yelled. An uncharacteristic sneer appeared on her face.

"And what are you going to do about it, Pevensie?" The last word came with something of a challenge. Suddenly, he grabbed her wrists and nearly pushed into the table.

"I'll make you regret ever saying those words, Hethers," he snarled. With that, he dropped her wrists and walked out of the tent. Aceline let out a yell of frustration and sank down on her bed. She was contemplating how much she hated Peter. She remembered his words: I'll make you regret ever saying those words, Hethers.

"I'd loved to see him try," she muttered.

After that, she found it quite difficult to go back to sleep.


You probably hate me, don't you? Oh, and the instructive part? NEVER get Peter or Aceline angry! They will hurt you.