Chapter Five

Peter smiled as he grasped Lucy tighter to him, lifting her up enough so that she could stand on his feet as they moved across the crowded floor of Anvard's great hall. Even with the tight space they had to move around, Peter still managed to make Lucy's grin widen as he spun her around in the wide circles. Lucy giggled quietly, tightening her grasp along her brother's hands. She leaned her head back to look at him, her eyes shining with the amount of adoration that only Peter seemed to bring out in her.

"Pete," she said in a mocking tone of frustration. "I don't need to dance on your feet. I'm not that young." She paused, then shrugged. "Actually, I haven't been as young as when we first went into the wardrobe in a long time."

"Yes, but if you're going to be dancing all night, then you need to be sure to rest your feet at some point," Peter replied.

Lucy lifted an eyebrow. "All night, huh?"

"That's right."

"And who am I to be dancing with?"

"Me," Peter replied with a haughty lift of his chin. He twirled her around, his smile widening at her laugh of excitement as he did so.

"You?" She replied. Peter nodded. "All night?"

"Absolutely. There's no way I'm going to let any old suitor whisk you off your feet and take you away from me."

Peter smiled as Lucy rolled her eyes but continued to giggle appreciatively. She tightened her grasp on Peter's hand and jumped off his feet, her heels clacking on the ground. Oh, how excited she'd been to show off her new heels to him that night. Another way to remind her that she was, in fact, growing up.

Peter lifted his gaze and looked around the ballroom to glance at Edmund and Susan as well. (He couldn't help but smile when he saw how affronted Edmund was being pulled away from the turkey leg he'd happily been chowing on to dance, his smile half-wilting to a frown when he saw how close Caspian was holding Susan as they danced). He could see the differences in them as well; Edmund wasn't as quick to argue and had a level-head when it came to figure out different tactics in battle that Peter'd never come up with. Honestly, he wouldn't know what to do if he didn't have Ed by his side to let him know he was continuously there whenever he needed. And Susan wasn't just the 'logical one' who liked to play guessing games with words form the dictionary, she was a sharpshooter at archery and faced enemies with as much bravery and knowledge as anyone Peter could hope to have in his army despite how much she greatly disliked killing.

Then, of course, there was Lucy. She grew up in Narnia as the rest of them had, and when she turned back, Lucy well and truly turned back into a child. It hit her the most, Peter realized, having lost Narnia and everything they knew there. Mr. Tumnus, the Beavers…everything that worked into her love of imagination and fairy tale. A world practically made for her and it was unceremoniously ripped away when falling back through the wardrobe.

He'd watched her carefully after their return. Worried her adventures would've made her too disillusioned with what their home lives had to offer them. (Peter certainly had felt the same upon his first few days back in school). Lucy seemed to remember her enjoyment of 'real life' but he knew from watching her, watching her small moments of turning wistful, where she'd sigh and rest her chin in her hands, watching the animals of their world go about their business that she was not-so-secretly waiting for the day they went back.

Now it seemed that they were to stay in Narnia…he'd never seen her so happy.

"You mean, you don't want me to start my own family?" Lucy teased. "Rule my own kingdom?" She tilted her head, batting her eyelashes. "I'd love to have you along, Pete, but I don't think there'd be much room within my castle." At Peter's outraged look, she explained further, "I mean, I need some place to keep the letters from all my suitors."

Peter laughed and the whisked her around in another swell of the music that blared through the ballroom. It wasn't music that was his favorite, nor was dancing, really, but being able to allow himself time to really his position as a king among his brothers, sister, and best friend? A weight being lifted off his shoulders wasn't enough to explain how relieved her felt.

"Do you think you could do me a favor?"

Peter glanced down at Lucy, reminding himself he didn't have to tilt his head too far to do so. He paused, noticing the expression of mischief that flashed through her eyes, making him inwardly groan, wondering what was coming. The last time Lucy'd looked at him like that, he somehow managed to find himself working in one of the plays she'd imagined in her head. Of course, that had been before they'd been sent to the countryside from England due to the way, but he became very worried when she asked him.

As it was, no matter how old she became, he would still recognize the expression of sheer mischief in her eyes, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. No matter what, he was always going to fall for it. He couldn't keep the exasperation and suspicion from his voice when he asked, "What is it, Lu?" still eyeing her, wondering what it was that she wanted.

If it has anything to do with dressing up as Aslan and running around like a bloody lion…? Peter waited patiently—albeit impatiently—for her response. Lucy turned away, her auburn hair striking her in the cheeks, trying—and failing—to appear innocent.

"Why'd you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm up to something."

"Because you are." Peter stuck his neck out, giving her an earnest look. A brotherly expression that was just short of him saying, "Out with it." As special as their relationship was, there was only so far his buttons could be pressed. "Come on, Lu, you know I know you better than that."

"Then if you know me so well, you'll know I only ask of this to help a friend," Lucy said. Peter didn't quite believe her. There was still a suspicious lilt to her tone he couldn't quite place. Nor could he say he liked. She was getting better at hiding her true intentions of things until she needed to let other people in. It was a well-used negotiation tactic she'd even managed to use to her advantage when her opinion about the reconstruction of Cair Paravel and democratic issues were asked about.

But, often, Lucy had her own agenda of amusement she liked to play her hand at. And it didn't seem like her time in Archenland was going to change that.

And to think I thought I was doing her a favor by dancing with her, Peter thought. A social aspect of kingdom life, it made things easier in terms of meeting with and talking to those he wouldn't otherwise have the means to meet with. Though that didn't quite mean he was ready to meet with every eligible woman he could court or eventually choose to be his consort. Lucy's presence seemed to steer many of them away, but there were more pressing matters on his mind.

Such as the spirit of a wolf that didn't seem to stop lurking through the shadows of his mind.

"I want you to dance with Brielle," Lucy continued, as if Peter hadn't said anything. As a matter of fact, her tone was so lofty and 'casual' that Peter was sure it would crack from the strain of her misguided innocence. "Just help her out a little." She tilted her head towards the other side of the dance floor. "That knight looks like he might be bothering her."

Peter sighed.

No.

Hard stop.

He'd already been coerced into one dance, and as he wasn't courting anyone at the moment, the one dance—and maybe one other one with Susan—was enough for him. Especially when he knew dancing with Brielle meant there was the chance he wouldn't hold his tongue to shoot back any of the subtle barbs she sent him. Something he couldn't quite help since having met her. She reminded him of Edmund in that way, though not as petulant. (No one could beat Ed in that sense).

"I'd much sooner dance with Ed," Peter said flatly.

Edmund, who swept by with a barely concealed expression of repugnance while holding a young maiden who appeared particularly moony eyed over him, said, "Not on your life, Pete." He looked back and forth between him and Lucy, adding under his breath, "You're not even good looking enough for me to even entertain the thought."

Lucy giggled quietly. There was a change in the swell of music and Peter stepped back, holding an arm behind his back while extending the other, allowing Lucy to twirl around him, like an orbiting planet around the sun. Just as they'd done when they were young kids and Lucy insisted on him letting her dance on his feet to music playing from their father's radio.

When they came back together, Lucy batted her eyelashes up at her oldest brother saying, "Please?" Rather, if Peter were being ore truthful, wheedled. "For me?"

Peter sighed, turning his glance to the ceiling, muttering under his breath all the while Lucy grinned. There was nothing that'd come between Peter's fondness for his youngest sister, even something he wasn't too particularly fond of.

"Alright," he said. He stuck his finger in front of her face, wagging it like a parent to a child. In that moment, he felt a brief pang in his heart for his parents back home. Wondered about the life they'd left behind and how much time had passed for them. Wondered if they knew what was happening to their children and how their own lives would then change. "But I better not see you meddling with anyone else," he warned.

"I promise," Lucy said, too quickly for Peter's liking. With strength Peter was surprised Lucy had, she took the lead of the dance and whisked him across the dance floor toward Brielle and her suitor. With expert timing, Lucy let go of Peter, slightly spinning him as he stopped next to the two.

Brielle's gaze shifted toward him, starting off annoyed then quickly turning grateful. She then looked back at the knight, who seemed to tighten his grasp against her when he noticed Peter. Peter every so subtly brought himself to his full height, narrowing his eyes just so. He couldn't help but pull his lips back into a smirk, seeing the knight practically fold in on himself, cowered under Peter's gaze.

"May I cut in?" Peter asked calmly, bowing as he did so before holding out his hand.

Brielle practically leapt from the knight's grasp and grabbed onto Peter's hand. Without a backwards glance, she allowed herself to be swept into Peter's arms as the music changed to a rather slow tune filled with violins and deep cellos notes.

"Thank you," she said, heaving a sigh.

"You're welcome," Peter replied. "So, what was wrong with that one?" Brielle's eyebrows raised as she took in Peter's question. He thought for a moment. "Since I've known you, you've always found something, some little thing wrong with everyone who has had some sort of interest in courting you. One's eyebrows were too thick, one had eyes that were too far apart, one's neck was too short—"

"His head only had a space between his shoulders," Brielle defended herself. "I can look past a lot of things, but having no neck is not one of them." As if to prove her point, she rolled her shoulders back and lifted her chin in a way Peter realized was mocking the way he'd just imposed his presence upon the knight moments before. "But thank you for noticing my few suitors."

Peter shrugged. "I've noticed the ones for Susan and Lucy." He smiled to himself. "Even Ed, when he's not paying attention. I have my own opinions."

"So you've got opinions on everyone else's suitors but yours?"

"I don't care to notice."

"Of course you don't."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You only carry maps and swords in your brain, remember?"

"Better than parties and luxury," he shot back. "There's more to life than the social lives of everyone around you." He watched as Brielle raised her eyebrows in a wordless expression of disbelief that made him chuckle.

Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Brielle spoke once more. "Are we really doing this?" Brielle asked. Her head piece sparkled underneath the lights as she shook her head. "Are we really slow-dancing?"

Peter breathed out through his nose, tried not to focus on the faces around him as they continued to swirl around the dance floor. More specifically, tried not to focus on Lucy, who was then bouncing over to Caspian with the same expression of mischief on her face that he'd caught her with.

I Knew it'd only last a few minutes, Peter thought. He turned his gaze back to Brielle and finally replied, "More like rescuing a damsel in distress."

Brielle let out a very unladylike snort. "I'm not a damsel, and I certainly was not in distress."

"That's not the way I saw it."

Brielle lifted her chin defiantly. "Then you need to get your eyes examined." She smiled wickedly, suddenly making Peter afraid of the time Lucy was spending with Susan's lady-in-waiting in case she ever managed to become even more devious than she already was. "I've heard there's some space open in the infirmary. With that pretty nursemaid who's always asking about you."

Peter's eyebrows rose in surprise. And…amusement? He couldn't help the slight smile that came to his face. As much as Brielle annoyed him, she was different than all the others that worked closely with him, his siblings, and Caspian. Maybe spoke a little too familiarly with them, but then again, she'd experienced more with the than others had.

Who would take on their duties to be by the side of their royal as fiercely as she did? He was more than surprised to see her stand up to Susan's side with a longsword in hand, ready to lay her life down for her best friend with—what Peter thought at the time—was little to no training. He'd been surprised to find that Susan and Lucy had been training her in secret, in case there was ever an invasion or a broke out.

And such a war it was, facing off against Miraz and his army to protect Caspian and return the country of Telmar to his rule. Peter swallowed hard, still seeing the picture of his fallen army in his head, all screaming for help while simultaneously warning him and his siblings to get as far away from the ambush they'd been tricked into.

Peter shook his head, turning his attention back to Brielle, who's lips pulled back into a smirk. He blinked once and feigned calm as he asked, "Are you calling me a child?" while trying not to sound petulant and prove her point.

Brielle shrugged. "I'm just saying she wouldn't mind having your company."

"Is this what you lot do whenever there are no men around?" Peter teased. "Gossip and spread rumors?"

"We learn, too," Brielle defended herself. "We like to educate ourselves, Peter Pevensie." She foced her hand around to poke him in the chest. "Not everything is about who may or may not be sneaking off to certain bedchambers when they have the chance." She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Though they not be as entertaining, I'll give you that."

Just as he'd done with Lucy before, Peter stood back, moving an arm behind his back while he extended his other one. This time, instead of spinning around him, Brielle carefully twirled herself into his chest, her back pressed against his. She kept her hand atop his that sat on her waist, and the two rotated in a wide, slow circle.

"Oh yes, what could be more entertaining than sitting around whispering, giggling, and filling your heads with talks of lipstick and dresses?" Peter lightly teased. He turned Brielle around to face him and, like the rest of the dance floor, placed his hands on her waist to lift her up in the air.

Their eyes met as Peter held her into the air, before slowly lowering her back down. She slid down his arms, steadying herself by placing her hands on his shoulders, faces inches apart. Peter swallowed hard, noticing Brielle's eyes flicker over his face, as if unable to find something to focus on. The side of her mouth turned up, face softening. Peter finally let Brielle back to her feet. Then the two backed away from each other to end the dance, him with a sweeping bow and her with a sweeping curtsy their eyes still on each other.

"Your dancing skills," Brielle finally replied with a smirk. Her eyes shifted behind him for a quick second then back to him. She grasped the skirts of her dress and lifted them to ease her way to traverse across the ballroom. "Now, if you'll excuse me, if appears that the King is about to call for the feast to begin."

"If Ed hasn't eaten everything in sight already."

Peter laughed. "Exactly."

Silas's ruby and Vincent's sapphire glowed the second Brielle stepped into the darkened chamber just off the great hall of Anvard. She was sure the Amber broach around her neck was growing as well. A similar reaction when any witch and warlock were around each other. Those of a significant power, anyway.

Silas spoke the moment the door closed behind her. "The King is looking much more alive than we'd expected him to be at this stage," he said with unbridled frustration.

"What did you expect me to do?" Brielle shot back. "Poison him immediately after Miraz fell? That would've brought more conflict to Narnia and Telmar. It's not what we need to move forward." She gestured with her hand. "As for tonight, it would be suicide to plot anything tonight."

"There are plenty around that would have the means and the motive to want to take down the High King of Narnia," Vincent pointed out. He rubbed his goatee, the grating sound of his whiskers against his fingertips made Brielle wince. "Assassination attempts aren't unheard of."

"Before Narnia and Archenland can renew their friendship?" Brielle pointed out. She looked over as there was a squawking sound, flinched when something dark whizzed by her head and circled the room before landing on Silas's shoulder. Brielle forced a disgruntled—and very unladylike sigh—through her nose. Right. Merek, his familiar.

Merek cawed, spread his wings wide, and settled onto Silas's shoulder. Brielle's eyes shifted around the darkened room, looking for Fendrel, Vincent's familiar; a hare. She was sure it was to be nearby. They were never too far away from their wards. Her upper lip curled, suddenly feeling a bloom of pain in her chest, like a rose blooming from new Earth.

Vincent grinned, seeing the anger pass over her face. "I see we haven't lost you yet."

"You should never doubt me," Brielle said confidently. Her hands clenched into fists before she folded her arms over her chest, arms digging into the corset of her dress. She winced at the discomfort. And it wasn't just from the dress. "You have no idea what it's like," She hissed. "To have a target on your back."

"Of course, we do," Vincent said with a scoff. Silas, on the other hand, reached out and smacked his palm against the nearby wall, making Brielle and Vincent both jump. "Silas," Vincent warned. He reached out to grasp his friend's shoulder, but Silas wrenched it out of his grasp.

Merek cawed loudly, a warning caw. Silas briefly closed his eyes and took in a breath. "What about the others?"

Brielle stiffened. She knew what was coming. "What about them?" She hedged.

"A lady-in-waiting is the best means to bring us closer to their majesties," Silas continued, moving closer to Brielle. Moving and speaking like a slithering snake, slowly searching for the words that's strike her down. "We get to the queen, we get to the king."

"I already told you," Brielle breathed. "Susan has nothing to do with this."

"Susan has everything to do with this. She's the one who made it so that Maugrim isn't with you today."

"That was Peter."

"Has Susan not gotten so lost—"

Brielle shook her head. Brought her hands up to press against her temples, knocking her headpiece askew. "She is my queen and I am her servant. I am in service to her," Brielle said. "Whatever that means, whatever it costs me."

"You're costing us the chance to rule Archenland!" Silas snarled. Brielle shook her head. They didn't get it. Didn't understand. Or, which was worse, didn't trust her despite as long as they'd known each other. As long as they'd known their lineage as witches and warlocks from the Northern Witches.

She moved to leave, but Silas's grasp on her wrist stopped her. All at once, Brielle's anger burst forward. "Keep your hand off me!" She snarled, finally breaking her façade. "You have no idea who you're dealing with!" All in one movement, Brielle grasped her wand from her ankle holster and spun to point it at the

Brielle's fervor dropped halfway through her movement when she spotted Silas and Vincent both pointing their own wands directly at her. Directly at her heart. Their broaches glowing brilliantly in the otherwise darkened room. Brielle's eyes narrowed, flickered back and forth over their faces. Slowly lowered her own wand.

"Who are we dealing with?" Vincent demanded.

"Don't forget," Silas warned, voice turning horrifying low. "We have ways of making things work in our favor. With or without you."

A chill ran down Brielle's spine.

She frowned, clenched her hands into fists, tried not to let the feeling of defeat overwhelm her. Because she knew Silas and Vincent were as strong as she could be, if her familiar were still alive.

A/N: You are going to see more of Peter's POV as this story goes on, considering he's the deuteragonist…but part of me kind of wants it to still only be from Brielle's POV. I may have it where it's mostly hers and then his when it's needed. Idk, I haven't quite decided yet.

So, yeah, if you follow me on tumblr, I cheated with this chapter once again. Lol. But a lot of the prompts I've been getting for Brielle works with what I've already had planned for the story as it is.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for the wait on an update, I'm glad you all are enjoying it. I hope to update more frequently as time goes on. I've got a lot planned for Brielle, Caspian, and the Pevensies.

Cheers,

-Riles