Selene

My mother's brother, Uncle Malar was eccentric and arcane, pooled with enigma and so many mysteries you couldn't begin to name them. Malar had come back from the Eastern Islands only days ago, and though ten years are an awing time to be at a soil foreign, peculiarly foreign even when the small rocks had been integrated into our Kingdom long ago. Yet, their noxious and pernicious governors had resisted the rule relentlessly. My Father's courtiers had offered to take the governorship, thinking the King a fool—foolish enough to not know their intentions. Ruling as a governor would soon turn into ruling as sovereign. And my father had been pertinacious.

Even now, almost a fourth of our army was stationed at the Eastern Beach, ready to attack, should the calamity of another civil war arise.

I bowed to my uncle, curtsying eloquently. Uncle Malar embraced me tightly, and I held on with an equal ferocity. Then it was Fey's turn and I backed, letting her, too, squeeze our poor, old Uncle Malar. I had not realised, until now, until my own people had surrounded me in clusters, how much I had really missed this soil, the smell of wet mud tangible in the air, the crash of crumpling waves with the wooden planks set parallel to the fishing boats.

When Aviso came up beside me, I asked him, "Peter?"

"Is that all you can ever say?" he teased good-naturedly.

But I frowned. "In the carriage?"

"Yes."

I reached the large vehicle in five long strides, my boots inviting grains of wet sand to spiral up, many sneezed around me, but did not falter to wave. The absolute pulchritude of the carriage made me self-conscious of my own fairness, such was the dazzle and radiance of its white wood. When I opened the door, I strongly expected Peter to crash me into the ground and make another futile and fatal attempt at escaping. But he simply scooted to one side, staring out of the small square opening on the door at his side. I smiled and sat beside him, closing the door gingerly. He inched further away but I reached to grab his hand.

"Don't," he hissed poisonously.

My hand slowly crept away, two fingers walking away from the hand he'd tucked under his leg. The carriage rolled forward with a sudden, unexpected thrust and my upper body shot back in the reaction. Peter smirked a snake's vile grin, and then looked out of the window again. My lips twitched to form a pleasant smile, and his muscles tensed under my stare.

"Stop it," he said.

"Stop what?"

"Stop staring at me like that."

"Some men like that, you know." He scoffed and looked away. "You're rather odd that way." He pretended to ignore me, though his hands curled into fists. I moved closer. "Or are you still a boy?"

I caught his finger and he flinched.

"Don't!" he warned again.

"Or what?" I asked, pulling up his hand to my cheek, guiding his fingers to tuck back my hair. "Don't you—don't you wish?"

He turned away, but I cupped his face. "Don't you want it too?"

He stiffened, shutting his eyes. "Stop."

My lips caught his ear. His breaths hitched and he squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt me. "Stop!"

"You can push me away," I said, planting tender kisses on his neck. "Push me away."

He didn't. And I smiled, wiping his teary eyes. I sat on his lap and he wept, his head lolling back on the cushion. He was crying. But why? I wiped his eyes with my thumb and lifted his head up. He was still crying. "Please stop," he begged, voice hoarse.

"I can't. And I know neither can you."

I kissed him. And for the first time, he kissed me back. He'd tried to protest, tensing, inching back. But soon, he gave in. I relished in the touch, pleasuring, revelling, drowning in the taste, invading his mouth, and letting his tongue slip into mine. He smelled of toast, tasted of honey, and I ran my hand through his hair. I cherished and pleasured, drinking it in. Until he shoved me away. I groaned when I hit the door and had still to recover, when he jumped out.

"Peter!"

My scream halted the carriage. And I hastily stepped out as well.

We had only left the docks, and rounded up to the Varalace terrain. My eyes searched for him, and there he was, trapped under Aviso's capable and strong arms, crying bitterly and hoarsely, hazily visible amidst the clouds of spiralling dust. The locals had stepped out, watching curiously, squinting through the dry sand of the valley.

"Stop struggling! I don't want to break your nose with the wedding so close!" Aviso was yelling.

"Aviso!" I said, my guards had grouped behind me, escorting me towards the present threat. Kaios and Felana also stepped out of their carriage. "Tie him," I said, kneeling beside the piteous King. "I will have him. But as a husband."

Peter lay gasping on the sand, befuddled whispers were circling around with thin strings of incoherent words. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…" he kept chanting. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry!"

Kaios was hovering above us, shadowing us from the early light. "What happened?"

"He kissed me."

"I'm sorry, Aslan!" Peter screamed. The guards formed a thick circle around us.

"And why is he apologising?" Felana asked, crouching down beside me.

"Precisely because of that."

OOOO

Response to P: No, Peter had no hope to find a mermaid, did he? Well, anyway. And things will get better...hopefully...

With love,
~Pacifia