A/N: Okay, well, I guess Fanfiction doesn't want you guys to use the poll above our profile to vote for "Sea Rat"'s sequel's title. :P But I, Sushi, being the dauntless authoress that I am, made a special questionnaire just for you guys! Follow the link at the top of our profile and help my poor uncreative mind choose. ;D No hurry, because, obviously, "Sea Rat" isn't finished yet, but thanks in advance anyway!
PS: I have a feeling you guys have been waiting none-too-patiently for a chapter like this…so I hope you enjoy! ;D
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Enna thought that the Galmanians should not be allowed to retreat further south, but Peter was adamant about waiting until the next morning to make chase, and so the army returned to camp for the night. "Our people need rest," he had said, the Nymrunians nodding wisely at his words. "There is little damage the Galmanians may do between here and the River again, and I will not spend our strength in needless pursuit." Glad of their victory but battered and war-weary, the Narnians tended to their dead and wounded, leaving the Galmanian corpses to the birds of prey that would descend upon the field once all was calm.
The shadows of afternoon were growing long before the encampment finally quieted, the injured all looked after and the unhurt bathed and dressed. Many weary warriors sat quietly around blazing campfires, half-asleep with exhaustion and slowly sipping at wooden cups of honeybush tea as night fell and the moon, almost fully waxed, rose in the east, casting a soft bluish light over everything.
Queen Lucy was sitting on her cot, carefully mending Aramir's torn tunic when Enna came into their tent, her unruly hair damp from the cold brook water she'd recently washed it with.
"Good evening, Sir Enna," the girl teased, biting a bit of thread in half.
Enna smiled in response, checking the height of the candle in the lantern that swung from the tent ceiling. "What shall I be called, indeed, now that I am a knight?"
"Oh, I suppose we'll be able to go on calling you 'Enna,'" Lucy replied. "Although, I think that the official title is 'dame'. But that sounds too old for you."
"I'll say! Dame Aldenthew reminds me of a wrinkled old governess."
Lucy giggled gleefully. "It does! Oh, how cruel—I had a governess briefly. And she was wrinkled!"
"I believe it is a requirement for the job," Enna laughed.
"Wrinkles and a propensity for appearing as though one spends one's hours sucking on lemons!"
The girls dissolved in laughter, both remembering past experiences with irascible old nurses. It physically hurt Enna to do so, the muscles across her abdomen contracting painfully and the tender scrape along her cheekbone stretching tightly as she grinned, but it was a welcome distraction from the echoes of clashing steel and battle cries that still rang in her ears.
Lucy wiped tears of mirth from her cheeks, still chuckling. "Oh, Enna. You do divert!"
"I could say the same for you." Enna knelt down by Lucy's side, holding the bundle of soiled clothes that she'd lately exchanged for clean ones. "If you found a moment, do you think you could mend my skirt? I thought I would be able to, but I…it's very torn."
"Let me see." Lucy took the article from her and shook it out, touching the rough slashes that the Galmanian blades had left. "I might. Did these happen this morning?"
Enna nodded. "Aye."
Shaking her head, the young queen set the bundle aside. "I saw you speaking with Aramir earlier. What did he have to say?"
Enna sat on her own cot and began to detangle her thick hair, wincing as the comb hit snarls. "He was in too much pain to say much."
"But he did say something," Lucy pressed.
Finding the queen's interest rather curious, Enna shrugged. "It was of little consequence." To you. Really, he had told her in his quiet yet direct way how shameful her conduct earlier that day had been. "You are intelligent," he had said. "I should have thought that you would realize how improper it is to ask for a knighthood. Perhaps you did deserve one, but your impudence speaks ill of your character."
It stung, and she spared him no unpleasant words for it. But, oh—he was right. She did have a terrible willful streak! The recollection of the hurt in his eyes made her stomach roil with regret: if only she had held her tongue.
By Gale himself, I'll start now, she thought fiercely. I'll conquer this flaw once and for all, before I get into trouble or hurt anyone else.
"I'm sorry for being so severe with you, Your Majesty," she burst out.
Lucy looked up at her, a bit startled. "Whatever are you going on about?"
"Earlier today—when you were being a bit careless, and I scolded you—I am dreadfully sorry."
The queen wrinkled her nose in thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "I didn't think you were unusually stern. Perhaps I needed it."
Enna opened her mouth to argue, but then remembered her oath and firmly shut it again.
"Have you eaten, Enna?" Lucy asked with a yawn a few minutes later.
"Aye."
"Well, then. It's growing late. I think we ought to retire, seeing as we are both fed and watered."
It didn't take much for Enna to convince herself to agree—she was very tired. But there were still things to be done before the morn, upon which Peter would rouse the army to another chase. "Aye, Your Majesty. You get ready for bed, and I will fill our flasks with water so they are ready upon our departure."
"Oh, would you?" Lucy said, stretching. "That's wonderfully kind."
Enna rummaged in the satchels near the tent flap. Lucy's obvious sleepiness was threatening to make her start yawning, too, and she told herself that once the four leather containers were full, she would go immediately to bed. And so, while the queen kicked off her boots and began dressing for bed, Enna went out of the tent, shivering in the cool night air, and followed the worn path out of camp and down the banks of the nearby creek that babbled around the camp and through the Pass.
The cold, moonlit water rushed over her hand as she knelt on the grassy edge, holding one of the three flasks under the surface. So far, she seemed to be doing well with not being argumentative—perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult, after all.
There was a soft footstep behind her, and she whirled around to see Peter sliding down the steep embankment, his boots crunching on the water-worn pebbles as he stooped at her side. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."
"It's all right."
The creek burbled as it rushed over and around Enna's hand, and a cool breeze rustled the newly budding branches of the trees over their heads, but neither spoke for a long while.
At long last, though, Peter stirred and sighed. "You displayed many strengths of character today, Enna."
Enna looked over at him, but he didn't look back at her right away, choosing instead to gaze across the water to the opposite bank. "How?"
"Well, I would never have expected you to be a military tactician, for one." He chuckled and took one of her empty flasks, uncorking it and dipping it into the water.
Enna smiled slightly. "I simply used common sense."
"A trait sadly lacking in many, I find," Peter sighed. "But all jokes aside, Enna, you certainly won the day for Narnia."
"Thank you." Please don't mention the knighthood. Please don't mention the knighthood.
"And I would never have considered asking for a knighthood, myself—that was very…revolutionary."
Enna winced, corking one flask and beginning to fill another. "I am very sorry about that, Peter. It was highly impudent of me to demand such a thing."
"Perhaps," he said lightly, "but I take no offense from it."
Well, that's all fine and good, Enna thought dryly, but someday I will meet someone who does. And what will I do then?
Out loud, she said, "That's good."
Peter finished filling the flask and set it aside, drying his hands on his plain blue tunic. "That water is frigid."
"Aye," Enna admitted, her fingers feeling stiff and thick-jointed as she pulled the last flask from under the surface.
Peter took the things from her and slung them all over his shoulder as she dried her hands on her skirt. "Spring hasn't come to Narnia just yet. When the brooks rush warm, winter's spell is broken."
"Aye. They are nowhere near warm!" Enna's hands were still red and swollen from the icy waters, and she tucked them under her arms with a weak grin.
Peter, noticing, tugged them free and held them in his big warm ones, chafing the soft skin of her wrists with his thumbs. "As I can tell."
Enna was a bit uncomfortable with this contact, but she didn't say anything, instead staring at the leather cord that tied his tunic together at the front.
Eventually, he released her hands, and they began walking together along the bank in the direction of camp, her boots making softer footsteps in the sparse grass than his.
"I won't lie, Enna," he said after a momentary pause. "I worried a great deal about you today."
"Why? To your knowledge, I was safe on the hillside." She looked over at him again as he ran a hand through his fair hair, for once unadorned by neither crown nor jewels.
As she watched, he shook his head a single time, rubbed at his jaw, dropped his hand to his side and readjusted the load on his shoulder. "Well…well, Enna, I…I suppose it's because I'm still in love with you."
Enna tripped on a protruding root and went sprawling on the ground, the shock of Peter's announcement surpassing the pain of the fall. But he was at her side in an instant, helping her up and looking very concerned as she breathlessly assured him that she was fine.
"Are you sure?" he asked once she was on her feet again.
"Aye."
Once he was certain she was telling the truth, they began walking again, but a bit less purposefully. Enna's palms stung and her pride even more so, but Peter's words rang in her ears—still in love with her? She hadn't even been aware that he had loved her in the first place! He had hidden it so well all those long months…but what was she now to do? She certainly didn't love him back.
Peter stopped abruptly, catching Enna's hands in his. "Enna…"
She shook her head. "Peter—"
"Please, Enna," he implored. "Hear me out. I have gone months with not a word on this subject—give me just a few moments to explain myself."
Well, this could be interesting. "All right," she said reluctantly.
He, heartened by her agreement, quickly deposited the flasks on the ground and took her hand again, his blue eyes earnest. "Enna…I have striven for so long to conquer my affections for you. Aslan told me it would be difficult, but I have found it impossible. You…you awaken such an ardor in me that I sometimes cannot sleep for the fervency of my emotions! Try as I might, I still cannot banish the hopes I harbor for…for perhaps sharing a future with you."
His impassioned words tore open the scars on Enna's conscience—she did not wish to cause him this torment, but she could not ease it, either! "Peter," she said sternly, keeping her hands limp in his. "Peter, you must know that I do not love you back. You are as dear to me as a brother, but I feel no…no such passion for you."
"I know." Peter's eyes flashed in the moonlight as he looked down at their hands.
"Then how can you say these things to me?"
"Because I still hope," he burst out. "Enna, give me but a chance! You have never had the true knowledge of what it is like, being a king's beloved—what we experienced together at Cair Paravel was but a facile shadow of what love truly is."
"Remember, Peter, I do not love you!" Enna could not seem to get this fact through his golden-haired head!
"But therein lies the solution." His fiery blue eyes bored into hers, making her wriggle uncomfortably. "Enna, if you but grant me time, I will woo as no lover has wooed before. Let me convince you, through no one's merit but my own, that I, Peter of Narnia, am the only man on this Earth worthy of your hand. Please, Enna—allow me this one opportunity."
Enna looked at him, biting her lip as she recalled the beastly suffocating feelings she'd experienced while he romanced her at Cair Paravel. She wanted to stand on her own two feet now! Be known as Enna Aldenthew, knight of Narnia, not 'the high king's lady'! But…Peter made a convincing argument for his case. Perhaps what she thought of as courtship had really only been as shallow as he said it was, and that true courtship and love was infinitely better.
He squeezed her hands and waited patiently for her answer.
A thousand and one reasons why accepting his offer was foolish zipped through Enna's head, and she longed to voice them, make him face reality, but she, with a wince, recalled her vow. Here was the high king of Narnia, the young and handsome ruler of a vast and powerful nation, begging for permission to woo her tenderly. Who was such a girl as she to argue? Aslan, the great lion, must have changed his mind as to their relationship, or Peter would not be pressing so earnestly.
At long last, Enna reached a conclusion, and it was one that satisfied her practical side very nicely indeed, though her heart would have to grow accustomed to the idea. "Very well, Peter," she said, lightly squeezing his hands. "I will try." I will.
His face lit up at her words, and he brought her hands to his lips. "You won't regret your decision, Enna, I swear."
She managed to give him a sincere, if brief, smile. "I don't doubt it."
"There. I have missed those smiles." He touched her chin with one hand, tilting her face up to his.
Enna almost recoiled at the contact but caught herself just in time. It would take a good deal of time to fight these dissatisfied feelings.
Peter noticed this and smiled apologetically, tracing the shape of her jaw. "We'll work on that."
His eyes were dwelling wistfully at a position on her face somewhat below her eyes, and Enna smiled knowingly. "Do you want to kiss me, Peter?"
He glanced briefly up into her eyes, giving a low chuckle. "Perhaps. Would you allow it?"
"I could, if you wished me to."
"I do."
That gentle confession had no right to make Enna's fingers tingle, but it did, and Peter brushed a single unruly curl back from her temple, tucking it behind her ear and playing with the other curls he found there. To her utter astonishment, Enna quickly found herself wanting him to kiss her—he had always been so gentle and thorough about it before.
Responding to her slightly dazed smile, Peter touched the swell of her lower lip with his thumb. "Do you wish me to?"
Breathlessly, Enna nodded. "I do…"
Peter's grin was fleeting, for he lowered his head the rest of the way to hers and kissed her softly.
Enna closed her eyes and returned the caress not unwillingly, a rush of adrenaline sending her heart a-flutter; her fingers flitted uncertainly about his strong jaw—to her surprise, she felt the rough scraping of a fresh beard. That hadn't been there before. How would he look with one?
Eventually, though, he pulled away, beaming. Enna cast desperately for something to say but he didn't seem fazed; rather, he bent and picked up the flasks that he'd deposited on the ground earlier, slinging them over his shoulder and slipping his other hand into hers, smiling all the while. Enna relaxed—there was nothing that needed to be said. She was the king's lady again, and, for the moment, she was happy.