Inappropriate Intentions

"A primary trait of the predatory female is that she deprives you of your peace of mind in direct proportion to the amount of time you spend with her."

"Ed, please. I'm your brother. You can't do this, not to me," Peter's voice penetrated the thick wooden door that separated him from his brother's form. His voice was close to cracking, thick with the tears he refused to shed. Edmund was truly amused. Edmund looked at his companion, he shrugged.

"I'm sorry, Pete," he said so innocently that you could mistake the nineteen-year-old's voice for a child's.

"Please, brother. I beg you."

Edmund looked down again, at the golden head and sea-blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Another shrug was all he received from him.

"Ed, she's coming. Save me, I'm begging you."

"Not convinced." Another creaking sound was heard by him. "Sorry!"

~o~

Fifteen minutes earlier

"King Peter! King Peter!"

Peter whipped around frantically at the shouting voice. A panting Corin was standing in front of him. Peter eyed him; he looked unharmed, his clothes weren't shredded and other than the breathlessness, he looked just as healthy as he had been hours before. King Lune wasn't going to kill him, not today at least. He sighed.

"What is it?" he finally asked after the conscious inspection he had given the ten-year-old prince.

"King Edmund," the boy breathed out and Peter shook his head, licked his lips and cleared his throat before saying,

"What about him?" There was no need to panic. Knowing his brother, it was more likely that he had punched one of Susan's suitors than gained an injury. Oh, who was he fooling? Edmund was prone to injuries, more than any of them.

"He…" Corin said.

"Hmm?"

"He fainted."

That surprised Peter. Injuries? Yes. Fainting in the light of day? No.

"Where?"

Corin answered him by sprinting back in the direction he had come from. Peter was quick on his feet, following the prince; ignoring the worried looks the passers cast them.

The prince came to a stop and Peter halted as well. They were in the east wing, this part of the castle was reserved for guests and Peter was confused as to why Edmund was here. Corin gestured towards the door that Peter hadn't noticed. He assumed Edmund must be in there, but the air wasn't thick; there were no anxious voices, no—

"Ed?" he whispered, cautiously stepping in. He had expected to see his brother, unconscious or no but the room was devoid of any human but himself. Or so he thought.

Something behind him moved and he whirled around. He saw Edmund, his hands clasping the door. There was an intensely satisfied smile on his pale face. Suddenly, he realized where he was and he instantly leapt towards the door, only to have it smashed shut in his face.

He banged loudly on the door.

"Edmund! Let me out now!"

He heard snickers coming from the other side. Corin was with Edmund on this. Those evil creatures—

"Oh, I don't think so, Pete."

"You've been planning this, haven't you? How long? A week? A month?" Peter said.

"Far longer than that. The moment I saw her, I knew."

"Edmund, let me out."

"No."

"Fine, what do you want?" he said, knowing that a bargain was the only thing that would be able to get him out of here.

"I have all I want, Peter."

Peter searched his mind for possible options. "I'll let you go riding without the guards," Peter offered, remembering the time his little brother had complained about the lack of privacy during outings.

"Corin, what do you think?" he heard his brother ask. He was biting his nails. She could come out any second now.

"He says no!"

Peter snorted and slammed his fist onto the door's wooden and coarse surface again. "Umm…okay, you won't have to share Lucy's pie with me again. You can have all of it. Think about it, Ed. Can you smell it? Taste it? Delicious and creamy—"

"You can't tempt me with food, Peter."

The sound of water spilling out, colliding with the hard ground, came. He heard his brother tsk.

"She's out of the bath, Pete. You're running out of time."

He rubbed his temples, digging deep. "I'll take care of all the court hearings for a month. For a year!" Peter quickly added when nothing but silence greeted him.

"Uh….no."

Peter was glad his brother wasn't in sight. He would have very much strangled him. "I'll look over all the treaties for you."

"That's tempting…" Peter could hear him rubbing his hands together. "But no."

Another loud thump sounded as he banged the door again, as if it would magically open by doing so. "You can go with Lucy on her trip to the Lone Islands!" Peter said, recalling how Edmund had stormed out of the room at the news of Lucy heading to the Islands without him.

"No." Not a second had passed before his firm reply came. He wasn't even considering his offers, was he?

"I'll tell Orieus to—"

"Orieus won't listen to you, Peter," his brother's voice amusedly said. He didn't even have to hear the rest of the sentence.

Peter glowered. "I won't fuss over you again."

"No." The two syllables came out like words of a song.

"New sword? From the northern dwarfs!"

"No."

"I'll let you get that tattoo!"

"It's not a tattoo, Peter and I don't want it anymore."

He heard the doorknob turn.

"I'll let you be High King for a day!"

"No."

"A week!"

"Not interested in the slightest."

"I'll let you borrow Rhindon more often! Come on, that's got to be the one!"

The door creaked.

"Ed, please. I'm your brother. You can't do this, not to me," Peter desperately pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Pete."

"Please, brother. I beg you. Ed, she's coming. Save me, I'm begging you."

"Not convinced." Another creak, the door was open now. "I'm sorry!"

All hope left Peter and fright gripped him. He didn't dare turn around, rather remained attached to the door, not moving in the faintest. He could see her wicked grin, the vile eyes, the—

"King Peter?" The voice was soft. "What are you doing here?"

He, very slowly, turned around and found himself staring at a beauty. Her dress was blue as the ocean, embroidered with white flowers and laced with a striking black. Her hair was damp from the recent bath she'd taken, a silken towel drying them, her fair hands rubbing the cloth against her sun-streaked hair. Her face would leave you in awe, so pale, so white, yet of the perfect contrast. Her lips were scarlet red and her eyes were emerald, almost too beautiful to look at.

"I—"

He could say nothing else, she advanced on him, taking small steps, one at a time, moving with so much poise that she could Susan jealous with her grace. He bit his lip, drawing back. Their feet moved in rhythm for some time, his taking him back and hers taking him to him. But then she stopped and Peter allowed himself to breathe again.

"I see you're uncomfortable, my King."

"No…I'll just—"

"Stay!" she snapped when Peter stepped back towards the door. More snickers. They were thoroughly enjoying his misery.

"Why don't you sit with me?" she said, sitting on the wide bed, gesturing towards the empty space beside her. Her eyes looked predatory.

He hesitated.

"I said, Sit. With. Me."

Her voice was commanding, enchanting and evil at the same time.

"Sit!"

Peter flinched violently, jumping at the same time. He gulped hard, his throat was closing up. He lacked words. He held no voice. A mere woman had managed to silence the High King.

He did as he was told, and positioned himself as far from the lady as he could, still inching away. She smiled in an appealing way and said, "Come closer, won't you?"

He heard someone choke on his breath at those words. He was definitely going to murder his brother once he got himself out of here. The lady, who seemed completely oblivious to the presence of his brother outside the door, abruptly seized his collar and jerked him towards her. He closed his eyes, her face was too close to his.

He heard her breathe in heavily. She was smelling him for Aslan's sake!

For the first time in his life, he wished he didn't smell too good.

She released him and he instantly moved away from her. He sat on the edge of the bed, but still did not dare to get up.

"You and your brother—"

There was some shuffling of feet outside and Peter was almost certain that Edmund was considering fleeing from the spot at the mention of his name.

"—are legendary in battle, so I've heard."

Peter gave a miserably vague nod and swallowed a lump again. She then wrapped her damp hair around her slender fingers, playing with the golden ramparts absent-mindedly. With her free hand, she traced his arm's length. And then her fingers moved to his chest. For Aslan's sake, this woman was ill!

The lady's hand slid to his neck and Peter flinched at the touch but the woman continued slowly tracing his skin. He wondered if they should simply ban any female visitors from Cair. Especially the predatory ones like her.

Her hand was on his chest once more, moving in circles. Peter felt as if he could faint any second. What was he supposed to do?

"Do you have many scars? You must."

Peter did not at all, like the way she said the words. It sounded, to him, like a snake hissing for its prey.

"Can I see them?"

Another choke came from outside. Peter turned to the door, wondering if Edmund had the whole Cair gathered out there by now, wanting them to serve as an audience. She kept her emerald eyes fixed on him, on his shirt as if her mere gaze would strip it off.

Her hands moved to the hem of his tunic. Was she-?

Oh, for goodness' sake!

And just when she was about to pull up his shirt, a curious idea came to him. A grand one.

"My brother has even more of them."

Panicked sounds.

"Does he?"

Running footsteps.

"Oh yes, he does."

Peter wasn't sure if his brother was there to hear him. He had probably already fled the scene. The lady settled back, his chest was freed of her lingering touch. She looked thoughtful when she said, "His skin is as pale as snow, isn't it?"

Peter smirked soundly, wanting to burst into laughs.

"And his hair, black as night. A perfect combination."

"Uh-huh."

"Where is he?" she asked, seeming to come back to the present.

"I don't know," Peter replied honestly. He could be in the Western Woods by now.

"Will you fetch him for me then?"

"Gladly." She had no idea.

He immediately ran to the door. It was still locked. "My lady, do you have a key?" She pulled out a shining metal. He took it, smiling.

Click.

He disappeared from the room in an instant.

And he ran.

Fin

Author's note: I haven't stopped laughing ever since I wrote this. Every time I read it, there's a tear in my eye. I know it's unusual to be amused by one's own writing but I simply love this. Oh, Poor, poor Peter. I won't be surprised if he really does kill his brother after this. That is, of course, if he manages to find him first.