Peter

The door stood ajar, blurry light angling in, the spiralling dust made visible.

There was a noose around my neck, the rope tied to the steel handle bolted into the wooden cavity in the wall. The looped rope was killing me, ebbing my skin. But I sat there silently, unmoving, waiting eagerly for death, as their eyes bore into me.

"Did he really think he could escape? We're on a boat!" had been only one of the taunts thrown at me.

But I had come quite close. A simple choice ruined my crafty plan and hard-work.

"Are you sure you can go alone?"

"Yes."

The older man with the greying beard and wrinkling skin tugged at the rope and ensured I was helpless and prone before allowing the figure—silhouetted by the light behind it—to step in. A flurry of silk and green fluttered behind her as she walked with poise towards me. She knelt down and held up my limp head with her fair hands. I scarcely cared—about anything. I didn't care what she was going to do to me for stabbing her, betraying her, giving her the false confession of love. Oh, that was the coldest one, wasn't it? There are many things I am in love with, few I love, even fewer that I love ardently—my family, my people, and above all, the Lion. And she thought I loved her? She, who attempted and almost succeeded in killing my only brother? She would have taken everything. Everything.

"You betrayed me, betrayed my love."

I remained motionless, my eyes looking past her, at Kaios. If it hadn't been for him—

"Stop, Aviso!"

She smiled cruelly, and her hands slid against the coarse rope.

"You'll kill him?" Kaios asked when she carefully began tightening the knot around my neck; I felt the pressure increase, my throat constricted.

I saw her reply, but never heard it; exhaustion had finally pulled me into oblivion.

It had begun simply.

As I struggled past the narrow doors, they hurled back and then swept towards me; I barely twisted in time to avoid getting hit by a fanning door. My mind was groggy, still under influence of the Dmin, but I thought of home as the very narrow and eternally dark corridor shrank from the sides and stretched ahead. My home, my family. They knew I'd been abducted, by a demented woman, not to mention, spiteful—I recalled her vindictive eyes, just hovering above with sheer malice. My siblings and my people knew. My brother knew.

I groaned when I stumbled severely, almost tumbling down a flight of stairs I had managed to find despite my very probable and lingering tendency to collapse. There was absolutely no way I was going to make it—without incident—down the stairs, with the dark and the constant rocking of the ship. So, I snapped my head around, my vision was swaying, the dark corridor spinning with fierce force and speed. But I successfully spotted the outline of a square door.

It stood ajar.

And I warily stumbled in. The room was empty, silver tables and wooden chairs scattered around the room, some of the furniture was sprawled on the ground, uncared for. It was a small space, congested, and stuffed, air positively thick. I bolted the door shut, ensuring it would remain closed with a ladle jamming its hinges. And I collapsed, finally, into an upright chair. It was stiff and rigid and I was fidgeting every other second. But my mind wandered to my family again. When the times were simpler, few were those occasions, and we all cherished them. When Lucy had baked her first pie—I remember even now, the lush, absolute juicy smell of the fresh and pulp fruits she'd plucked herself from the gardens. When Susan had shoved five meals a day into my mouth—she said I was getting too thin, even scrawnier than Edmund; I had shaken my head, to be thinner than my brother and be alive was impossible. I remember, oh, I do! I don't know when the tears brimmed up and leaked out.

But I wiped my cheeks. My people were looking for me. No doubt, I would let him kill her, try her first, and then kill her. Kaios's foot squeezing my brother's throat flashed before me, her viscous eyes making my skin crawl in fear, in fear! I, who had battled against giants, warred against entire nations! I was afraid of a mere woman. But no matter, I told myself, my brother would find me, and mercilessly submit me to Susan's fussing, which I secretly appreciate. And Lucy would fuss silently, in a passive way, in the company of her attendants, but she would fuss. And Ed—

Oh, how I missed him. More than I missed Narnian soil, I missed him!

Lion-!

I would find him, I decided. I could escape. Surely, the Galmans kept boats on deck?

Please, Aslan. Please.

The clinking of metal alerted me. A slash. And a whip! And I froze, drops of panic trinkling down my spine. The blade brushing my neck was suddenly drawn back and I smirked. The chair was kicked away before I was even completely standing on my feet. The dizziness made me sway but I kicked the attacker's knee, heard him curse in Galman, and had him pinned under my foot in two moves, the sword swept away.

"Who are you?" I said, pulling out Selene's knife from the pocket in my trousers—I wasn't wearing a belt. The man—or a boy—was evidently younger than me. Edmund's age? His clothes were half-torn and I would have guessed him a servant, had it not been for the sword he had wielded. Or was he a thief?

"Tvar," he replied suddenly, grabbing my attention again.

But where had I heard that name before?

"Galman?" I didn't give him time to reply. "Of course, I just heard you speak old Galman. A friend of Selene's then?"

"No, your Majesty."

I froze and blinked at the boy. Your Majesty?

"You know who I am?" I asked, tightening my grip on the knife.

The boy choked. "If you will please…" He writhed under my foot. "I can't breathe, your Majesty."

I apologized and helped him on his feet, knowing he didn't pose a threat. I picked the sword before he could. I fumbled with the blade awkwardly, not having a sheath. Wordlessly, Tvar retreated and I blinked into the darkness, squinting. Unexpectedly, he came back, appearing through an arched doorway that led to an even darker storage room, I assumed. He held out his hand, offering me a shirt and a sword belt. I stared blankly at him for a moment, then nodded, and helped myself.

When I had put on the shirt—it was rough and much darker than traditional Narnian shades—I looked at him. He helped me with the belt and prodded me numerous times with his elbow in the process. He offered me his sheath as well, and I accepted his kind aid. Then, adjusting the sheath on the belt, I said, "Why are you helping me?"

"You are the High King," he replied with a smile.

"Your loyalty lies with your King and his daughter, does it not?"

"It does."

"Then why are you helping me?" He looked down. Oh. "What do you want in return?"

"A refuge in Narnia, my Lord," he said, looking up again. "My farms in Southern Galma died in the Winter, Majesty."

"Your farms? You're not old enou—"

"Twenty, your Majesty."

I gaped. He was so skinny and frail. "Then you shall get it, Tvar."

"Oh, not for me, your Majesty!" he exclaimed, blushing fiercely. "For a friend of mine," he said oddly.

"But you said your farms had died."

"Exactly, your Majesty. They took him when I couldn't pay my taxes. I had hidden him for long, but discovery was imminent. They agreed to let me keep him as long as I paid extra taxes, but last winter, they took him."

Taxes. I wrinkled my nose. Lucy would swoon if our subjects were to pay taxes to live and thrive in their own land. But I shook my head. "You speak of him as if he were a possession rather than a friend."

"That he is, your Majesty." He gulped. "A Griffin."

I gaped again. I only closed my mouth when understanding dawned on me, pieces of the mystery falling into place. "Tvar. That's the Griffin's name. A traitor!"

"No!" Tvar exclaimed. "He was a foal when he flew here with his father, his father was rogue, Majesty, not him. Please."

I nodded. "He is Narnian. One of my people. I promise him a safe return to Narnia, assuming that I live long enough to uphold that promise." I swallowed, scrutinising him. He was feeble, as if dying of an illness. Thin and frail and paler than my brother with a dark mop covering his head. "You shall be welcomed in Narnia, Tvar." He smiled. I smiled back. "Do they have boats on deck?"

A slap woke me. She was staring at me; eyes cloudy with an emotion I had not seen her wear. Fear? Concern? Love. I wished I could slap myself but I was too tired, besides my hands must be—

I was free.

I looked at her, unprotected, alone with me in a dark room. So, fear it was.

"What game is this?" I asked her, suddenly realising I was swaying lightly. And I was lying down. A hammock?

"Drink this," was all she said, shoving a steel vessel into my mouth. I gagged. But she forced the liquid past my lips. I spit the drug out. But it tasted—

"It's water."

I shook my head. "You're a monster."

"Yes."

"An evil woman."

"Yes."

"Murderer."

"Yes."

"Then why?"

"Because sometimes," she cooed, pressing a sweet smelling cloth over my mouth, "I'm just Selene."

The venture continued in my dream.

I was walking with much more balance and strength, reassured by the weight of a sword hanging at my hip. It was heavier than Rhindon and nowhere near as sharp. But only its presence was enough to give me renewed strength at every turn.

Tvar had told me about the Griffin's whereabouts—he would be my carrier, the swiftest and safest way to Cair; I could already imagine Edmund's proud smile, Lucy and Susan's relieved laughs. Tvar the Griffin was locked Below Deck, near the quarters of the oarsmen. "It is a tricky path, Majesty. There will be soldiers looking for you. Are you sure you can go alone?"

I'd considered, only for a moment. But I couldn't risk the boy's safety. He would be executed for betraying the royal family. So, then, without hesitation, I'd said, "Yes."

And yet, after thirty minutes of wandering, ten partly calculated turns, opening four doors that I did not think of closing again, I was lost in the maze of corridors. I think I was going in circles, for that vast were the servant quarters of the ship. Defeated, I decided I needed to ask for directions. However, that was a poor choice for the first room I entered certainly did not belong to a servant. And there was sunlight. How was there sunlight this deep?

I gazed out of the window. The sea was endless, the blue waves rising and sinking below the surface rapidly. It was—

"The Captain's quarters."

I turned. "Well, I was going to guess a royal's, but…" I shrugged, maintaining the smug smile Ed had taught me.

The aging man I assumed to be the Captain grinned an unkind smile. "You think you're clever?"

"My brother says I'm a bottlehead."

The grin vanished and I longed for its presence, for it hid the hideous amount of rage on the man's face. "You hurt her."

I had already thrown the knife. But he needed only lean away to avoid it. Its blade dug into the wall.

"You think you're a soldier."

I swung my sword at his feet. He jumped, and dodged every subsequent attack effortlessly. And soon, still weakened from the drug, I was panting.

"You think you're a King."

I slashed the blade at his chest. He stepped away. I scrambled ahead clumsily. I felt like I was a novice, and Orieus was tormenting me in the Grounds again.

"You think you've fought battles."

Ignoring him further, I aimed for his head. It nicked at his skin. But inflicted no further damage. Before I could make another move, he kicked me in the shin. I screamed and he kicked me against the wall, twisting my wrist simultaneously. The sword fell quietly on the carpeted floor. He seized me by the collar, throwing me against the wall again. My ribs ached.

"But you. Are. Nothing. More. Than. A mere boy," he said with each punch. I was barely conscious when he began strangling me.

"And you," he laughed, "you don't deserve her."

I squirmed against the wall, clutching to the carpet as the pain in my throat increased exponentially with every second. He squeezed harder. I choked, my eyes stung with smoky tears. He only squeezed harder. My irises had rolled up, my head had limped to my shoulder, and I was waited for death, when the voice screamed, "Stop, Aviso!"

Instantly, as he withdrew his hands, I fell on the ground, coughing desperately, my eyes glued shut, making more tears leak out. I couldn't breathe!

"What have you done? She loves him!"

I didn't move when he shook me. Kaios.

'Peter! Peter!' Lucy yelled for me, waiting on a small hill, her small figure silhouetted as the sun rose above the horizon. It was paradise, this place. 'Come on!'

Someone shook me again and my teeth rattled. I was breathing. They pulled up my eyelids. But I didn't see anything.

'No. Peter. Pete.'

"Ed?"

'Peter, please! She's—' He choked.

"Edmund!" I screamed, convulsing up to form a perfect arch.

'What have you done?' Susan was yelling at our brother. 'You gave up!'

'He's gone,' was the solemn reply. 'There was no point.'

"No!" I screamed again. "Come back! I'm here! Please come back! COME BACK!" But he'd sailed away. Away from me. He'd given up. I wanted to rest, too. But the people kept me alive. "LET ME GO! ASLAN!"

"ASLAAAAAN!"

"Wake up," the voice said harshly. I reluctantly opened my eyes. It was Kaios. "You need to eat," he spat. "Here." And he threw a tray on the table beside the bed. He rose and left before I could protest that I was bound.

So, I lay there, in the nightmarish reality, until the door opened and she came. With the click-clack of her delicate leather boots, she walked to the bed. And in her eyes, I saw only contempt and viciousness, just the familiar malice. No concern or love. A dream.

"You were screaming for your brother," she said.

"Do you think I would scream for you?" I goaded.

She picked the knife from the tray as if she was plucking a flower. "Oh, I think you would." She traced the skin under my eyes carefully with the sharp side of the blade. I didn't dare move, or open my eyes. "Some places hurt worse than others."

She pulled out a hairpin, letting her hair fall in grace. She slowly slid it into my ear. "A torn eardrum can be especially painful."

I let just a single tear escape my eye.

"Scared already?" she asked. "Oh!" She jumped. "The tongue!"

I pressed my lips together, turning away. She laughed. "But then, how would you kiss me on our wedding day?"

I blinked. I tried to question, but she already had the cloth soaked with Sorontia covering my mouth. I breathed slowly, my eyes drooped close. She kissed me once briefly, then I felt her tie a blindfold around my eyes. The touch of her lips came back, harsher this time. "Come on," she hissed. But I didn't move.

"Come on!" she roared, sliding a hand under my neck, lifting my head. She kissed me again. "Peter, open your mouth."

I didn't move.

Tenderly, she planted another brief kiss on my lips. "Not yet then."

I felt the headboard shake when she thrust the knife into it. "You are mine, Peter. Mine."

And I was asleep, thinking how similar she sounded to Jadis.

OOOO

Author's note: So, do you agree with Peter?

Response to P: Thank you! Selene is mysterious and intriguing to me as well. And I discover more and more about her as I write. I hope you liked this chapter!

With love,
~Pacifia