Disclaimer: Narnie belongs to C. S. Lewis. This fanfic is mine.
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FATE OR DESTINY?
WHAT THE HEART FELT
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"True love's the gift which God has given
To man alone beneath the heaven:
It is not fantasy's hot fire,
Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly;
It liveth not in fierce desire,
With dead desire it doth not die;
It is the secret sympathy,
The silver link, the silken tie,
Which heart to heart, and mind to mind
In body and in soul can bind."
Canto V, st. 13
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He opened his eyes and blinked a few times until his vision cleared. He was in his bedchamber, where the window drapes had been pulled back to reveal the dark, starry sky. Utterly confused - what was he doing here? - he turned his head to see Susan sitting on the couch, her eyes closed. He thought of calling out to her but decided against it. He wasn't even sure if she was actually there or if his mind was playing tricks...
He turned his head again and looked at his reflection in the dresser mirror. His bright blue eyes stood out against his ghastly pale skin; he looked like a dead man. The thought amused him - and noticed how his lips curved in the mirror. Of course he would look like a dead man. He, after all, had had an appointment with death.
But then... was it over? Was he dead?
He should be. Why would a dead man be lying in a bed, though? He shrugged the thought away; how was he to know the answer to that? He was dead for the first time, after all.
Susan stirred and opened her eyes. And then she sat up when she noticed him. "Peter!"
Wait. Why was she here in the first place? He was dead. But was she dead too? How and why? Nothing was making sense.
"You're awake," Susan went on, unaware of his confusion. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "We were so worried about you."
Peter looked on, baffled. Why were they confused? And then he remembered.
Lenora and he walking in the woods –
The pain and the sickness of the poison -
Isabel coming to save him –
Isabel and Lenora falling off the cliff –
Peter sat up like a bolt of lightning, his eyes wide. A sharp pain sparked through his body and lingered in his head, making his vision swim. But that would not deter him, now that he had remembered. "Isabel!" He threw back the blankets. "Where is Isabel?"
Susan placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from getting up. "Calm down, Peter," She said softly. "You're still recovering."
He noticed that there was a bandage wrapped around her arm. Had she been hurt? If so, then how? "What happened?" he asked, frustrated. "Where is Isabel?"
"Caspian and I were injured," Susan told him, "But we're alright and so are you."
Peter pressed his fingers to his throbbing temples. His head felt heavy. "Doesn't make sense..." He whispered, almost to himself. Had he dreamed everything on the cliff? No. It had been real. Too horrible and real. "The poison was too strong."
"It was," Lucy agreed, walking into the room alongside Edmund. Their presence was a surprise; they were supposed to be in the other corner of the country. "But not strong enough for my cordial."
"It seems that Isabel was a step ahead than the rest of us," Edmund explained. "I received a letter from her through Griffy, in which she had written her suspicions regarding Lenora and suggested that Lu and I return as soon as possible."
"Good thing, too," Lucy said, "You lot were nearly dead when we reached the palace."
Edmund nodded. "We were in the courtyard when I heard you scream Isabel's name. Took me a bit to locate you, and you were as good as dead when I did. No breathing, no pulse, no nothing. Scared me half to death, Pete."
"And I found Susan and Caspian," Lucy told him, "He was nearly dead with the blood loss too. Thank the lord I had my cordial with me. It saved both your lives."
Peter ran a hand over his face tiredly. Already this was too much information to absorb and it did his headache no favours. He wished he could go back to sleep... and he would have, if not for the fact that there was something missing from their story - something vitally important. "And Isabel?" he looked at his brother. "Tell me you found her too."
"It was difficult and it took a while, but yes." Edmund replied with some hesitation. "I did finally find her."
"W-Where is she?" Peter asked, looking towards the door and then all of them, searching their faces. "Is she alright?"
"She…" Edmund began somberly. "Peter, s-she…"
"She what?" Peter demanded impatiently, panic threatening to overwhelm him. "Ed, where is my wife?"
Edmund lowered his gaze and slowly shook his head. "Peter... I-I'm so sorry."
The world stilled as Peter made sense of those words. He blew out a small, shaky breath, and looked around the room, not really seeing anything.
Isabel was dead.
Isabel was dead.
Isabel had died saving him.
And he had been an utter arse of a husband.
Tears formed in his eyes, and his heart filled with an ache so raw and pure that he wished for death to embrace him then and there. Or for the world to end. Maybe it already had. How could the world continue now? Without her. How could he continue? Isabel was dead. She was gone. Gone. He would never see her again.
Fuck. No. No. No. No... This was not real. And yet, it was. But how could this happen? Why did this happen? Why was she dead and why was he alive? He prayed to Aslan, begging him for some mercy on his troubled soul, pleading to the Lion to change what had happened and if not that, then to send him into oblivion.
Isabel was dead. She was dead. She was gone.
He wanted to scream and shout and swear until his raw pain consumed him whole, and he pressed his lips tight to keep himself from doing that. What he could not control were his tears. Those traitors spilled from his eyes and down his cheeks. As if that would make anything better... Isabel was dead. She was dead. And she had probably died thinking he hated her.
He was the one who had trusted Lenora, he was the one who had made all those mistakes. He should have died. He deserved it. Isabel didn't... None of this was her fault. She had been right from the get go. And yet... she was gone. The sheer injustice of the situation was just... unbearable.
Or maybe this was his punishment.
To live without Isabel for the rest of his life. To know that he was the reason she was dead. To know that she had died saving him, when he had spent most of his time hurting her in one way or other. This was his purgatory. This was his punishment. This was his curse. And it was... so, so, so unfair. Isabel was gone. And he was alone.
"No!" The strangled word left his lips, half a sob, half a prayer.
The pain of losing his wife had broken him. His heart, his mind, his soul... And he didn't care if he cried or not; his life was now an abyss and he was only falling deeper and deeper into it by the second. He pushed Susan's hand away - he didn't need to be consoled or comforted; it wasn't possible to do so anymore - and shook his head, not sure if he could form words. He wasn't even sure if there were any words that would explain to them the hell that he was in.
Isabel was dead. She had left him all alone in this life. Who was the one who broke the promises now? She did. But it wasn't her fault. It was his. All his fault that she was dead. God. No. Aslan. No. Please...
Shakily, Peter stood up and moved to leave. He needed to get away from here. He needed to think. To... mourn. And he couldn't do that here, with his siblings' gazes boring into him, in the very room he had shared with Isabel since their wedding. No. He wanted to be alone, which is what he was now that Isabel was dead. Please, no...
He reached the door but before he could do anything, it flung open and Isabel walked in. She wore a plain blue dress, her auburn hair loose over her shoulders and back. Her eyes - ever so beautiful, ever so mysterious - were wide with shock and fixed on his face.
Peter froze in his tracks. Was he hallucinating? Was he dreaming?
"T-They said you were awake," Isabel said breathlessly, as if she had ran all the way here. Her voice was very real; but how could it be? "And you are."
"Isabel?" Peter breathed, not believing his eyes. "Are you real?" He raised his hand to touch her, but could not bring himself to do so. What if it was a dream and she disappeared? "You're alive?"
Isabel frowned. "What do you mean? Of course I -" She stopped and realization flashed across her face. Then, she glared at Edmund. "I cannot believe that you would play this cruel joke on your brother as well. You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"He deserved it for trusting Lenora so much," Edmund muttered, though he did seem regretful. "Sorry."
Isabel shook her head in disapproval, then looked back at Peter. "It's me," she said softly, reaching out and brushing her fingers on the back of his hand to assure him that she was indeed real. "And I'm alright."
Peter blew out a breath at her touch. She was real. He had felt her touch, but now he didn't know how to react. Everything was too much. "H-How?"
"Lucy's cordial," Isabel replied.
"Don't ever," Peter growled, taking a step closer towards her. "Don't you ever scare me like that again! What were you thinking, falling down a cliff?"
"Don't you dare doubt my word again," Isabel retorted. "When I say that a girl is bad for you, she is!"
Peter laughed, though it came out as a choked sob. "She is." He agreed.
"And stop crying," Isabel continued as she reached out and wiped away his tears. "It goes against your image."
His lips curved into a grin, and he felt giddy with joy. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. He was not alone. The relief... God, the relief was overwhelming. Isabel was here, she was safe, she was alright, she was alive. Isabel... Isabel... My Isabel.
Without even realizing what he was doing, Peter grabbed her face and pulled her in for an urgent kiss. She let out a small noise of surprise, but did not pull back or resist his touch. Edmund let out a loud hoot and there was some clapping from his sisters, but he ignored them all. He needed the contact with Isabel, needed the touch, needed the reassurance that she was here, with him.
Finally, he pulled away from her lips. "Not dead," he whispered. Then, he turned to his siblings. "Where is Caspian?"
"Resting," Susan replied. "Don't worry. He is absolutely fine."
"Good."
"In fact," The Gentle Queen went on. "It is quite late and we've all had a long day. Perhaps we should all get some sleep."
"Wiser words have never come out of you, dear sister," Edmund said.
The goodnight wishes were swift, and soon Peter found himself alone with his wife. It occurred to him that he had kept a tight grasp on her hand this entire time, and he was not willing to let go just yet. With a tug, he led her towards the bed and they both sat down on the edge.
"Isabel," he began, his eyes boring into hers. "I'm so, so sorry. For everything. I was wrong. Will you forgive me?"
"Forgiven," Isabel replied almost instantly. "Will you forgive me for all the terrible things I said?"
"There is nothing to forgive. I was the one who-"
She squeezed his hand. "It's all in the past, Peter. Don't dwell on it." Then, she added: "I'm sorry Edmund gave you a fright. He did the same to me when I regained consciousness."
"Did he?"
She nodded, her eyes fixed on their intertwined fingers. "He told me that you had died and I... I felt as if someone had reached into my chest and ripped out my beating heart. I didn't - I couldn't breathe." She shook her head, as if trying to rid herself of the memory, then looked up with a smile. "I nearly strangled Edmund when I found out he was joking."
"I wish you had," He muttered darkly. "Idiot. Why would he even play such a cruel joke?"
"I did ask him that." She hesitated for a second. "He said it was time that you and I realized how much we care for each other."
Peter shook his head slowly. "No."
"What?" Her face fell.
"He's wrong. It's not that; not just that." He said firmly. Normally, he would have been hesitant - but now, after everything that had happened, after almost losing her... He felt more confident than ever that it was time to bare his heart, no matter the consequences. "I do not care for you, Isabel. I... I have fallen in love with you."
Isabel stilled, her eyes fixed on his as if she was searching to see if he meant his words or not. Slowly, she asked, her voice colored with disbelief, "You love me?"
He touched her cheek, fingers caressing her soft skin. "I do."
"Good." Her lips curved into a gentle smile. She hesitated, then admitted: "I love you too, Peter. I have, for quite a while now."
It was his turn to pause. "How long?" He asked.
"Since the day you left for the war. It broke my heart to be away from you."
"Isabel..." he murmured, touched. Then the realization that his love was not only accepted but reciprocated hit him, and his heart filled up with a joy so pure that he thought it would burst.
Gazing into her beautiful eyes, he closed the distance between them and placed his lips atop hers in a soft kiss, pouring his relief at finding her alive, his love for her, his gratitude, his happiness, all into that one touch. Isabel returned the kiss, her hands moving up his arms and coming to rest on his broad shoulders. They stayed locked in the embrace until the lack of air caused them to part.
Even then, Peter refused to allow distance between them. Cradling her head in the palm of his hand, he moved his lips to her cheek, her neck, leaving a trail of small, butterfly kisses on her skin. Isabel's eyes fluttered close and she tilted her head back, allowing him better access to her throat.
He looked up then, his blue eyes hooded and his veins flooding with desire and love, making him lightheaded. The sight of her rosy, flushed cheeks did not help his condition - and he pushed her back onto the pillows and crawled atop her, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Her arms came up and locked behind him, holding him close, while his hands traveled down her arms, over her sides and up, over her chest. Her body was so petite, so soft, so perfect... so delicious.
The thought caused him to move his lips her throat, down to her collarbone, where he bit her teasingly.
Isabel froze. Because this was the exact - the same bloody exact - spot where Vane had bit her when he had... And all of a sudden it was not Peter who lay atop her, it was Vane. She felt his repulsive touch, felt the weight of his body pressing on hers, felt him in her - and a fear as dark as death gripped her tight in its claws. She went rigid, unable to move or speak or think, her breath coming out in shallow gasps.
Peter didn't notice the change right away. To him, her breathless, heaving chest indicated desire. Only when he trailed his lips up her jaw and atop her lips, and felt the lack of her response did he raise his head to look at her. "Isabel?" he asked, his voice husky from his own desire.
Isabel's opened her mouth, but no words left her. Her eyes, wide with fear, welled with tears and she looked at him, pleading.
It took him a moment to realize what had happened, and he quickly scrambled off her and scooted away from Isabel. Good lord! Will the memory of that wretched man never leave them? he wondered. He had killed Vane, and yet here he was, lying on his bed between him and his wife. Bastard.
She sat up slowly and hugged her knees. "I... I am sorry," she said at last, her voice low.
"You have no reason to apologize," he assured her. "I should have realized..." He trailed off. Silence lingered between them for a few moments, then he cleared his throat and decided to change the topic. "We should get some sleep. It has been a long day."
Isabel nodded absently, and lay down, pulling the blankets over her as if they would protect her from whatever horrors she was living through in her mind. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but was not sure how to. Eyeing her with concern, he lay down as well. A minute or two passed, then Isabel reached out and brushed her fingers over the back of his hand tenderly. "I love you," she whispered.
He allowed a small smile to touch his lips, his heart swelling at the words. "I love you too," he told her. Then asked: "Are you alright?"
She bit her lip, then hesitantly met his gaze. "Please be patient with me, Peter." Her voice was low, pleading.
His heart broke in that moment - not because of what she was asking of him. God, he would wait an eternity for her. Hell, he would even live in a celibate marriage all his life as long as he had her on his side... No, his heart broke because the pain that Vane had put her through, the scars from that ordeal - though invisible to most - would always stay with her. He would have gladly ripped his heart out with his bare hands if it meant that she never had to ask this of him, that she had no reason to ask this of him.
"Isabel..." He gently twined his fingers with hers. "You have my patience, my obedience, my heart, my eternal love. Whatever you need of me, you shall have it. For as long as you want."
She smiled, both touched and grateful for his words, for his presence in her life. Despite all the horrors, all the tears, all the fights, marrying this man had been the best decision of her life, and she couldn't thank Aslan enough for it.
"I..." He began uncertainly. "I'd like to hold you in my arms, if you can bear it."
There were many things that she couldn't bear, not just yet, but this - this she could. In fact, she would welcome it. "I'd like that very much."
The two of them scooted towards each other, meeting in the middle of the bed, and Peter wrapped his arms around her form, holding her close. His touch was initially filled with wariness, as if he expected her to pull away, but she rested her head on his chest, her body relaxed in his embrace. Soon, he allowed his muscles to loosen as well. "Goodnight, my love," he said.
"Goodnight, my love," she answered, snuggling closer to him.
And surrounded by the warmth of her soft body, the flowery scent of her hair, Peter slept with a smile on his face, his sleep and his dreams more peaceful than they had been in ages. Things were not perfect, and yet they were. He had Isabel. And he was utterly content.
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"Good morning!" Caspian said, walking into the dining hall for breakfast next morning.
He smiled as he saw the five Pevensies sitting there: Edmind attacking his food, Peter eyeing his brother with a mixture of disapproval and amusement, Isabel looking truly happy for the first time in a long time, Lucy waving over to him, and Susan... She was looking at him, her eyes full of love. He had missed that.
Walking over to the Gentle Queen, he bent down and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. She buried her fingers in his hair and pulled him in for a longer kiss. A second passed. Another. And then something hit Caspian on the face.
Startled, he pulled away and looked down, only to realize that Peter had thrown a piece of bread at him. Any irritation at the interruption he felt was quickly overshadowed by shock. "You hit me with bread!" Caspian accused.
"Be glad its not a boulder," Peter muttered.
As Caspian took a seat, Susan folded her arms across her chest and glared at the High King. "Honestly, Peter! You're so childish."
"Actually," Edmund spoke up. "I'm with Pete on this one. We don't want to see you two snogging, especially at the breakfast table."
Susan rolled her eyes and dug into her meal. The breakfast went well, and Caspian spent most of his time talking to Peter and Edmund. Once they had finished their food, the three kings turned to the girls who were talking among themselves... about dresses. As always.
"Will you three stop?" Edmund demanded, looking utterly disgusted. "If I have to hear about any more laces or silks or colours, my head will burst!"
"You don't have to listen to us," Lucy pointed out.
"Yes," Susan agreed. "You boys are free to talk about whatever manly things amuse you. We haven't gagged you."
"Women," Edmund muttered, "all they think about is dresses and wardrobes."
"You should be glad that we do, Edmund," Lucy said, smiling, "Otherwise none of us four would have been in Narnia."
"Please! All 'that' wardrobe contained was furry coats," Edmund snorted. "And you did not go in there because you loved your girly dresses, you went to hide in there."
"True," Peter interjected. "And after that, we all went in there to hide from the Macready."
"What a woman!" Edmund chuckled as he remembered, "She made Susan look colorful and fun!"
The two brothers laughed while the Gentle Queen glared at them.
"I think Susan is fun," Caspian came to her aid.
"Have you played her dictionary game yet?" Peter questioned him.
"That game was interesting and quite educational," Susan scoffed. "Not to mention that it all started when we were playing that game. So you must thank me and my game for finding Narnia."
"Please!" Peter looked at his sister incredulously, "Lucy found Narnia because I agreed to play hide-n-seek, so I assume all the credit goes to me."
"If anyone should get the credit, it should be me," Edmund stated. "If I hadn't pushed Lucy away and kept her from hiding behind the curtains in the corridor, we would still have been in England."
"But you wouldn't have been hiding anywhere if I hadn't agreed to play," Peter protested.
"For the record," Susan said, raising her hand, "I won that game of hide-n-seek."
Shouts of disagreement rippled all around the table from the other three siblings. Caspian and Isabel had long forgotten their food and were listening to the argument with a great sense of curiosity and amusement.
"Peter only found me because Lucy was running around shouting 'I'm back!'," Edmund spoke.
"Doesn't matter. Peter found you and Lucy, not me. Which means, I am the winner."
"That is it!" Edmund exclaimed a few minutes of quarreling later, banging his fist on the table. "I want a rematch, now!"
"What?" Peter asked.
"Yes," Lucy said, "A rematch. We play it again to see who wins."
"I think we have a country to run." Susan pointed out. "Besides, we cannot play hide-n-seek. We're not children anymore."
"You're a chicken," Edmund said. "
"You take that back, Edmund Pevensie!"
"You two just don't want to play because you know that you will lose," Lucy told Peter and Susan.
"Fine!" Peter said. "I'm in."
Susan seemed to be in thought for a moment and then, she too, nodded.
Lucy smiled. "And Caspian and Isabel can play too."
"Brilliant idea," Edmund clapped his hands together excitedly. "You seek, Caspian."
"What, no!" Caspian protested. "Why do I get the most difficult task?"
"Why doesn't Peter count?" Lucy suggested. "He was the one who was supposed to seek us the last time."
"I'm not counting," the Magnificent king said and then rolled his eyes as he looked at his little sister's puppy dog face. He could never resist that. "One," he said loudly and everyone stopped to look at him. "Two."
"You're counting?" Edmund asked.
"No I am dancing," Peter replied sarcastically, closing his eyes. "Three."
And in a moment, everyone on the table got up and rushed out of the room one way or the other. Too confused with what was going on, Isabel stood up and was about to run away when a hand grasped her wrist. She looked back questioningly at Peter. "Stay," he said.
"Aren't you supposed to be counting?" she asked. "Cheater."
"I don't cheat," Peter replied, standing up. "I play fair. I have found you and I deserve a prize for that." With that the High King leaned forward, his eyes fixed on her lips.
"Oh really?" Isabel raised an eyebrow as she leaned back, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him away. "You didn't even let me hide."
"What's the point? I'll find you anyway."
"We'll see." She said in a challenging tone.
He smiled, accepting her challenge. "Go, then," he said, letting go of her. "But know this, when I find you, I will want my reward."
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Susan ran into the library, planning to hide behind the huge shelves, but Edmund beat her to it. She glared at him, then ran out of the room and down the hallway, her footsteps echoing.
"…Seventy-two, seventy-three, seventy-four…"
Peter's voice reached her ears, and she looked around, searching for a good hiding place. Maybe she shouldn't have gloated about the game. It was a bad idea, she decided.
"… Eighty-seven, eighty-eight, eighty-nine…"
She began to panic. If she didn't win the game, that was alright, but she didn't want to be the first one to get caught.
"Susan!" she heard Caspian's voice.
Before she could turn around, a hand grasped hers and she was pulled down the corridor. "Caspian," she said, trying to catch up with the running king. "What–?"
"No time. Come on!" Caspian dragged her out of a door and into the courtyard, coming to a stop before a huge tree.
"You have got to be kidding me," she said.
Caspian quickly climbed up the tree and sat down on a high branch. He held out a hand to her. "Up here, quickly."
"I can't climb a tree," Susan said, looking down at her massive gown.
"Give me your hand."
"…Ninety-six, ninety-seven…"
Startled, she placed her hand in his and Caspian pulled her up. Slowly she moved until finally she was at level with the king. She held close to him as she sat down on the thick branch. "This won't break, right?" she asked, looking down. It was a twelve feet fall at least.
"No," he replied. "It is a strong branch. When I was little, I used to hide up here to avoid drinking milk."
Susan giggled, placing her head on his chest. A few moments passed, then she said, "Caspian, I am sorry."
"For what?"
"For everything that I said. And I tried to kill you!"
"You did," Caspian said. "But it wasn't your fault. It was the magic."
"I don't deserve you." She admitted in a low voice as she raised her eyes to meet his. "I am not good enough; you deserve someone much better than me."
"Nonsense!" He snapped. "There is no one I'd be with but you. You are the one who truly makes me happy. And as long as you love me, there is nothing more I could wish for."
"Do you mean that?"
"Do you doubt it?"
"No." She said. "I will never doubt your love again. Ever."
"Thank you," Caspian said, closing the distance between them.
"Caspian, if Peter sees you–" Susan warned.
"Oh, we're up in a tree! Now shut up and kiss me."
The Gentle Queen smiled. "As you wish, my king."
And their lips met in a passionate kiss. Susan felt her heart swelling with joy and her insides melting. God, this moment - sitting here in Caspian's embrace, with no worry in the world - was perfect. She didn't want it to end.
Unfortunately, it did. And in a way no one would have expected.
Snap!
The branch snapped and they fell, letting out startled cries. Caspian landed on the ground first with a loud thump, pain shooting through his limb. Susan landed on top of him. "Ouch." She exclaimed.
Ouch indeed, Caspian thought, but he had no breath to voice his pain or irritation.
"What the–" Peter's voice reached their ears, which was followed by a few footsteps. "What's going on?" The High King hurried over to them, followed by Lucy. Somewhere in the distance, they heard Edmund roar with laughter; no doubt their situation was hilarious to him.
"We fell," Susan grumbled as he crawled off of Caspian, eyeing him with concern. "Are you alright?"
"I think I broke my wrist," He grimaced and slowly sat up, holding a rapidly swelling wrist gingerly against his chest. "But I'm alright."
"Great," Peter said, pulling his sister to her feet. "What were you two doing in a tree? A tree! Have some decency please!"
"Bless you two," Edmund said, walking over to them. He was wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "What a sight, the honorable king and queen of Narnia falling down from the broken branch and landing on their big, fat buttocks."
"I'm glad you are finding joy in my pain," Caspian muttered.
"And I do not have fat buttocks," Susan protested.
"That's debatable." Edmund said. And the Just King and the Gentle Queen spent the next half and hour or so in a mad dash about the castle, to the amusement of many.
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