Chapter Ten: Moonlit Magic

Peter sighed, folding his arms. He tilted his head back to look at the sky. He heard a humming sigh directly to his right and looked over to see Edmund spinning a pocket watch around and around in circles, holding it by the chain. Over and over he spun it, catching it in his hand whenever the chain became too short. It was one of the few things that had been found in the destruction that was Cair Paravel.

The restoration was slowly coming to fruition, word coming back as the days passed. The walls were tested in the foundation for their ability to hold the new concrete to be poured and set, the throne room was blocked off from any scavengers, guarded by those that stayed behind in Narnia. Any time there was anything of important recovered, a messenger was sent to let the Kings and Queens know, the items handed to their possession so that there weren't to be any attempts on the eventual black market selling of their items.

One of the most prized possessions that had been returned to Edmund was the pocket watch. The watch that had Aslan's head planted on the front, encrusted with rubies and diamonds at the four points of the face of the watch. Edmund held onto it as much as he held onto the chess set that had been recovered when they first arrived in Narnia once more.

Peter reached out and pressed his fingers against the hilt of Rhindon. He hadn't needed to bring the sword with him, he knew of Silas' words of King Nain's and Queen Aria's decree for them to be treated as guests throughout their time in Archenland. However, he was not so naïve to think that there wouldn't be those within the city walls that would want to wish harm upon him and his siblings. There was a part of him that'd always be wary, especially in the matter that he wasn't quite sure he trusted Silas.

Silas was one who worked alongside the King…the King they were working hard to turn to the democracy they'd been before, who would see the positives of renewing the alliance with the Kingdom of Narnia. If they couldn't retrieve that alliance…well, it wouldn't make much of a difference if he wasn't able to relax a little bit.

Even the looks of the peasants, the merchants, and the shopkeepers around the marketplace worried him. Some looked at him suspiciously, while others looked at him curiously. Curious to know who he was, what he looked like, some surprised that they were in the presence of the Kings and Queens of old. He didn't blame them. The niggling thought in the back of his mind of what the other side were truly feeling, truly seeing when they saw him.

To hear that the Kings and Queens had returned but had returned as the children they were before. Older, nonetheless, but still children. Had to learn certain things over again; there were things Peter had known in Narnia that he'd forgotten in his time back in England. Very much like Lucy learning how to swim in Narnia but sinking like a stone when back in England, then re-learning how to swim since returning to Narnia.

Something that had to be seen to believed.

Peter smiled at the young shopkeeper that arranged the array of jewels and jewelry on the table before him and Edmund as they waited for the girls to finish at the stalls filled with plants; herbs, and spices, and flowers, all leaning over and sniffing delicately at what was placed before them. But the shopkeeper Peter smiled at, a young woman, smiled back, doing her best to hide the blush that crept up her cheeks.

She cleared her throat, keeping her gaze on the jewels before them. "Are you interested in any of the spread today, your Majesties?" she asked. "I assure you they have come from honest means."

"Then why are you to part with them?" Peter picked up a pearl necklace and held it up in the sunlight, eyes roving over the baby pink hue of each pearl stitched together. "These are such beautiful jewels, it's something that would be best kept within the family."

"Yes, your highness, but…" she chewed her lower lip. "Times have been hard for us lately, the farm hasn't been able to pay much of the fines and…" she shrugged, reaching out to trace her fingertips over the earrings that sat at the front of the table. "I will do anything to ensure that we can keep ourselves afloat."

"Ah." She was working to protect her family. Peter understood that, understood it well. When going to face Jadis herself, Peter had been prepared to face her and her army alone. Had urged Edmund to take Susan and Lucy back through the wardrobe and act like nothing had happened. Wanted them to leave him behind so he could face whatever was lying in front of him to take on Jadis. He wanted that, to ensure they would be safe.

But it came to pass, he found he was safer with them around. With them by his side, fighting to take down as much of her army as possible. He worried, but he was stronger. So, what does that make you now? Peter questioned himself, still looking over the jewels. When you lead others into death, what would you have done if it was Edmund or Susan who had passed and not the Minotaur's and the other talking animals? What would you have done if you had their blood on your hands?

Peter pushed the thoughts away, gently shaking his head before taking a large sum of money from his pockets; Lions and Trees, the currency he'd seen exchange hands throughout Anvard. It gave him relief to see they still worked with that currency as his time in Narnia had been cut short before their return. There were things that had changed, but a lot that continued to stay the same.

"Yes, well, I understand what it is to have the means of protecting your family on your shoulders," Peter said. He held the money out to her, noticing her eyes widen in surprise. "I would like to aid you in any way that I can. I will take the pearl necklace and those earrings you have been eyeing."

The shopkeeper nodded, eyes still wide. With shaking hands, she took the currency, putting it in a bag that hung off the side of the stall. Peter tightened his grasp along the pearls and watched as the shopkeeper hesitated a moment before picking up the earrings and daintily handed them out to him. Shaking his head, Peter held out free hand and pushed her hands back to her chest.

"Those are for you," he said. "I couldn't bare to see you part with it as much as I can't bear the thought of you losing everything you hold dear." He tipped his head with a smile. "I hope you find enjoyment of them."

"Oh. Oh!" The shopkeeper's cheeks flushed once more. "Thank you, your Grace. Thank you so much!" She cupped her hands tighter around the earrings, careful not to let them fall. "I hope you enjoy your time in Anvard." She grasped the skirts of her dress and did a quick curtesy.

"And what is your name?" Peter asked her.

"Vivienne Halliday of Chippingford," Vivienne replied, standing from her curtsey.

"Chippingford?" Peter's eyebrows rose. "You've come a long way." Vivienne smiled and nodded. "Well, I hope you much success with your sales today." He stepped back from the stall and moved to Edmund's side, as he stopped to look at the time once more.

Edmund reported the time to Peter with a shake of his head. "Half past, we've been standing at this flower stall for a half past," he said. "There has to be something more to it than just wanting to stop and smell the bloody things." He looked up, noticing the necklace in Peter's hand. A large grin spread across his face. "Well, I know you were interested in going to the shops today, but I didn't think you would be going to get me a gift." He brought a hand up to his chest. "Pete, I'm touched."

"Oh, sod off," Peter replied, shoving Edmund hard on the shoulder. "It's not for you."

"Who's it for then?"

"No one, at the moment. I only bought it so that Vivienne over there would be able to hold onto her farm for that much longer." Peter nodded towards the shopkeeper. Edmund leaned over to look, then looked back at his brother with a smirk. Peter ignored it and continued. "She's from Chippingford and comes to Anvard to sell their familial items to make ends meet." He looked to Edmund seriously. "There are more than enough reasons as to why this treaty with Archenland should come to pass, and this is one of the. Our people are losing their homes."

"Oh." Edmund's smirk fell, ascertaining the seriousness of Peter's words. "Is there anything we can do before then? Everything is now in King Nain's hands. He is the one who will determine whether or not Narnia shall thrive as it was before." He paused. "We have the alliance with Telmar, now that Caspian is King, but that may be our downfall as well."

"Which is why we must continue to work with Caspian to extend our peaceful reach between kingdoms." Peter shook his head. "But that's not what we are to talk about today. We came to Anvard to enjoy ourselves and meet the people."

"And we're going to do that even if it kills us?"

Peter couldn't help but grin at Edmund's jovial tone. Couldn't help but also be pensively envious of the ease of which Edmund was able to go from topic to topic with almost no care in the world. Becoming serious when the time came, rather than Peter having to take the time to think things through before acting.

"It is important," Peter agreed, adopting Edmund's tone. "It is a burden we must bear." He walked up to the girls as they continued to sniff over the flowers on the stall. "Is there any reason that we are still at this stall when there's plenty of other places we could be looking?"

"Boys," Lucy murmured. "They don't know anything of importance even when its right in front of them."

"And sniffing flowers is important because…?" Edmund prompted.

Brielle stood up straight, brushing her hair behind her ears. She folded her arms, making the most petulant of pouts. "I have a list I need to fill out, has to be fulfilled to the very last letter. And there are some herbs and flowers I have yet to procure." She reached into her satchel, pulling out a piece of parchment, and waved it around. "The ones I'm missing have a particular scent of mint to them. It is imperative I find them."

"And why is that, may I ask?" Edmund asked.

"With all do respect, your majesty, it isn't always your means to know what is going on in my business," Brielle replied. She looked him in the eye and reached out her hand, placing it on his shoulder. "Now, if you must know, there are certain things that a girls' time can make very unpleasant and—" She laughed when Edmund made a sound of disgust and pulled away from Brielle's grasp.

Peter locked eyes with Brielle and masked his laughter with a cough, watching as Edmund continued to squirm around, rubbing the palms of his hands on the leggings of his tunic. "You really didn't have to scar him like that," he remarked.

"Well, I was partially telling the truth," Brielle replied with an amused air. "Mint has always been a remedy for the discomfort of a girl's time, which is partially what I need it for. But I've also been tasked to procure these items for the cooks and servants for future dinners that King Nain and Queen Aria want to bequeath upon us. However, I have to follow the amount that's given to me to the letter."

"How come?" Lucy asked.

"Too much mint can be poisonous," Brielle said flippantly.

Edmund's eyes widened and he eyed Brielle carefully. "Remind me to have my food checked whenever it's been prepared under your vision," he said slowly.

"Oh, you wouldn't have to worry about that." Brielle leaned over, placing her nose over the plants and herbs once more. "I only handle Susan's food."

"Gee, thanks." Susan rolled her eyes, allowing the laughter of her family and friends to wash over her. She brushed her hair behind her ears and clasped her hands together in front of her. "Have you found everything you needed?"

"I have…" Brielle stood up straight and picked up handful of what looked to Peter like twigs, and put them in the basket that dangled off her wrist before handing over some Trees to ay for it. She folded the parchment and tucked it back into her satchel. "When your majesties are ready, we can head back to the castle."

"What about Silas?" Susan lifted her chin and looked around the crowded marketplace.

"He's around," Brielle replied with a roll of her eyes. "Believe me, he doesn't go too far from those he's to be looking after." She turned on her heels, the skirts of her dress catching the blades of the grass on the ground. Brielle roughly grabbed her skirts and yanked them upwards to free herself. "He takes the position very seriously."

"And how do you know him?" Lucy asked, she and her siblings moving to keep with Brielle's pace.

Brielle lowered her chin. "He, Vincent, and I got to know each other while I was in Archenland, getting training to become a lady-in-waiting. The others had slowly dwindled away, unable to keep pace with what had been tasked for us to become rightful in our positions. I'm the only one who left Archenland."

"And, are you close friends?" Peter found himself asking.

"Do you remember your friends from home?" Brielle looked to him. The question startled Peter, making him stare back at her for a long moment before shaking his head, suddenly realizing that he didn't, in fact, remember many of the friends he'd had from before the war started. Once the air raids became constant, it was hard for those to continue going to school. They stopped seeing their friends and only corresponded between letters if not running into each other when risking the danger to grab supplies. "I haven't thought of them in so long that I can't remember what they were like. As wonderful as Narnia can be, being part of nobility, being so close to it, friends, people who understand you, are difficult to come by. So, yes, in a way, they are close friends of mine." The corner of her mouth turned up as she asked, "Why are you so interested?"

"I'm not," Peter replied.

"You've been asking after them since I mentioned their existence."

"Well, you've been mum about much of your life here in Archenland, and as someone we trust very deeply, who has become like part of our family, it is important that we know the company you keep."

"Yes, of course."

Peter's lips pursed, noticing the tone to her voice—the mocking tone—that she didn't quite try too hard to conceal. "Must you always make fun of me like this?" He asked.

"Only because you make it so easy, your majesty," Brielle replied. She reached out and looped her arm through Peter's, tucking her arm tightly against her side. Holding it firmly. Their hands brushed. Brielle flashed him a wide smile, eyes shining with mirth. "And, as I am Susan's lady in waiting, and look after Lucy when the time comes,"—she flashed Lucy a fond smile, which Lucy returned—"well, there has to be something that'd keep me close to you and Edmund as well. Ed loves to read as much as I do and, well, you Peter, you just make it easy to tease. I keep you entertained."

"And how does that help you?"

"I get to laugh at you."

"Ha ha."

"Look!" Lucy pointed off to the side before dashing away from her brothers and sister. Susan glanced at Peter and Edmund, gently rolling her eyes, before following the youngest Pevensie sibling. She rushed over to an inconspicuous looking tent that sat between a few shop stalls. A tent Peter was surprised to note he hadn't noticed before.

It was dark, a mixture of a purple that turned into an inky black, the colors seeping into each other with ease. The flaps of the tent blew on the breeze, beckoning them closer. As they rounded the side, Brielle dropped her arm from Peter's gasp and moved closer, to regard the sign that hung along the front.

"A fortune teller!" Brielle gasped. Peter made a noise and she turned to look at him, widening her eyes. "You don't believe in them?" He tone was neither surprised nor accusatory. It was more of a statement. A cautious question.

"I have yet to come across a fortune teller who can actually tell me something I don't know or isn't something of a guess," Peter said stiffly. He crossed his arms and grinned. "What are they going to tell me? I'll go on a long and dangerous trip?" He waved a hand. "That's just a day in Narnia."

Brielle rolled her eyes. "You don't have to be a spoilsport."

"It sounds fun!" Lucy declared. "Let's go!"

"I don't know, I'm with Pete on this one," Edmund said. He folded his arms, shaking his head. "A fortune teller I could probably tell all of you your fortunes and come correct. And I wouldn't change you for it either."

"It is just a bit of fun," Susan agreed with a gentle smile. "There's no harm in it. There may be things told to us, revealed to us, that we've never known of before."

That seemed to take Edmund's attention immediately. "And, what if this fortune teller tells us we're going to be rich?" He looked to Peter with excited eyes.

Brielle gave him a pointed look. "You lot already are rich," She pointed out, gesturing with her hand. She smiled and laughed when Edmund shrugged and amended himself by saying, "Well, rich-er." She laughed even harder when Lucy leaned over to Susan and stage whispered, "Maybe they'll tell Peter who he'll fall in love with and he'll chill out a bit."

"I don't think that's possible," Susan whispered back.

"Let's go, then," Peter said sourly, glaring at his sisters. He led the way into the tent. If it would get them to stop whispering as if he weren't there… "Get it over with." With a flourish, he flung back the cover to the tent and stepped inside. "Hello?"

"Yes, yes, come in, sit down. You wish to enter?"

"Yes!" Lucy said with a bright smile. She hurried forward, stopping once she ran out of space to continue forward. "We're so excited to meet you!"

"Please sit down." The Pevensies and Brielle did as they were told, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the tent. Once they did, they noticed the woman sitting across the table from them, face reflecting in the crystal ball before her. "Before we start, I must ask if you truly want to continue forward. Once you have heard your fortune, you will do with that information as you wish. Your fortune may be positive and bring happiness, or it may be negative and bring despair. I can't promise you'll enjoy everything you hear."

"We want to hear," Lucy said eagerly.

"Yes, it sounds like it'll be fun," Susan agreed. Despite how calmly she was holding herself; shoulders back, hands in lap, waiting patiently for the fortune teller to continue, there was no hiding the excitement and eagerness that flashed through her eyes. She was just as excited as Lucy, Peter realized, however was more equipped in her advanced age to hold it back.

The fortune teller smiled and nodded, her long, impossibly curly brown hair bouncing around her face as she did so. Her light eyes held each of the Pevensies and Brielle in place, as if she already had placed a spell upon them the second, they entered the tent. Brielle lifted an eyebrow but didn't outwardly show any change in her face. She knew power when around it.

Despite Peter's worries, this fortune teller was the real deal. Brielle wondered if the fortune teller was thinking the same about her.

"My name is Madame Dulcea, but you may simply call me Dulcea," The fortune teller said in dulcet tones. "I've heard a lot about you," she said, addressing the Pevensies. "Of the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve who would save Narnia from the White Witch's reign over Narnia."

"Who hasn't heard of that prophecy?" Edmund interrupted, only to be shushed by everyone. Even Peter shushes him, not wanting to hear what Dulcea had to say, but in not wanting to be rude. Or, any ruder one can be to not believe what she will be spewing, Peter thought. Edmund hunched over, shoulders moving to his ears from the onslaught of the hash sounds around him.

"Yes." Dulcea lifted her chin. "But how many knew of your disappearance before it was to happen? Where you were chasing the White Stag to make your wish. I tried to warn others, but that is the case of the fortune teller, of my abilities. Those only deem me as someone to wave off before it is too late."

"It was Edmund's idea," Lucy said, shooting her brother an accusatory glance.

"You wanted that wish, too," Susan reminded her.

"Well…yeah, but…"

"I knew of that to happen long before it had," Dulcea interrupted. "But no one believed me. No one believed I could see the future. I've seen the rise and fall of Miraz, and of Caspian coming into power once the Telmarines were defeated." Dulcea's eyebrow rose. "But there's more than that to prove my abilities. There's going to be a war coming from a direction you will not be able to prepare for. Other than my words, there will be no preliminary movements that will come to your attention until it is too late."

Edmund's face screwed up. "Like we didn't know that was a possibility." Again, he was shushed.

"A war that can only be stopped once all differences are set aside. Once the greatest thing of value has been sacrificed to stop the warring sides. If not, there will be much loss, darkness spreading all over the lands."

"Oh please," Peter murmured, unable to stop himself from.

Dulcea's eyes flickered toward him. "You're not a believer?"

"There's a lot that can be explained with fortunes likes these," Peter said evenly. "A war in Narnia? Can't say it's that hard to come by."

"Peter!" Susan hissed.

Dulcea's lips pulled back into a small smile. "There are always believers and non-believers, my dear." She reached out and patted Susan's hand reassuringly. "But I will always give out my fortunes when I can. Even if those don't want to hear it. It's up to you, whether or not you want to heed my words of warning."

"You're the logical one," Peter reminded Susan. "And you believe all of this?"

"Logic can't explain everything, Peter," Dulcea said. For a moment, Peter's eyes widened in surprise to know she knew his name. Then he remembered it had been a few times throughout the conversation, his name had been said. Lucy giggled quietly as Peter rolled his eyes. "Would you like to leave while the others get their fortunes read?"

"No, I think I'll sit this one through."

"As you wish. Now, who may I start with?"

Lucy immediately shot her hands into the air.

Dulcea nodded and took in a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Pressed her palms together. She continued to breathe for a few, long minutes, then brought her hands up to wave over the crystal ball. Within seconds, the crystal ball clouded over, a filled with smoke that twisted and turned along with the movements of Dulcea's hands. She muttered something under her breath, a low chant that filled the air and equally filled the heads of the Pevensies and Brielle, growing louder as the seconds passed. The color of the smoke started to change, going from a wispy gray to inky black, to the darkest of blues, to a purple, to red, to an orange, to yellow, to green, then back to the gray that faded to white.

"Dearest Lucy," Dulcea said, making the youngest Pevensie to sit up straight, eyes shining with excitement. "As the youngest, you are more than what you appear to be. Others want to be way of coming across you." Lucy's smile widened. Duclea's eyebrows twitched. "I see moments of great decision falling upon your shoulders. Decisions that'll be felt for years to come, that will only end once your wise nature is realized. You're strong and that strength shall be felt for centuries."

Dulcea's gaze shifted to Edmund, at the same time the smoke turned from the reddest of reds when speaking to Lucy, to the brightest of greens when speaking to Edmund. "You will face your greatest fear, the commitment put to the life you lead. But you will face that fear with little trepidation and with much understanding. It will be prosperous to your kingdom as well as to yourself. Your life will be full of riches."

The smoke turned blue, with Susan being next. Dulcea's eyes lit up as she smiled. "You will find ways for yourself to open to your true potential. Not just as a queen, not as a ruling matriarch, but to open yourself up to your own true potential…to yourself. You will find your greatest wish fulfilled in ways you couldn't even imagine…that you'd never bring yourself to experience due to worrying of how others would perceive you."

The smoke then turned a bright yellow. "I know you don't trust what I have to say, Peter, but that trust of yours will continuously be tested. Not just with the upcoming war, but within yourself and your choices, your decisions and your moves to continue from the path that lay behind you. You've made some hard choices that you continue to struggle with, but there are even more troubling decisions ahead you must overcome, especially with those closest around you. It will be hard for you to truly open yourself in that manner, but once you open your heart, you'll find yourself fulfilled in many ways."

The smoke turned to the lightest of grays when she turned to Brielle. "You're very troubled, my dear. Laden down with darkness and anger, of which it will consume you. It is either of these things that will either make you stronger or make you fall susceptible to the darkness." Dulcea frowned. "I cannot fathom whether either direction is the better option for you. There is extreme hurt…a force that has followed you from far that will be hard for you to come to terms with. You will fall further into the darkness before you find your way back to the light."

Peter looked to Brielle, who frowned at her prediction, listening intently as the words were spoken. She gently lowered her head, nodding. Her hands curled in her lap, chewing her lip as the seconds passed.

Lucy was the one to break the silence. "What about Caspian?" She tilted her head, twirling her finger in a long strand of hair that would've made her appear ditzy if it weren't for the regal air around her that appeared the moment she received her fortune. "Doesn't Caspian get a fortune?"

Dulcea spread her hands, appearing helpless as she said, "I can only give the future to those that are in front of me."

"I thought you said you couldn't guarantee the fortunes you told," Peter reminded her.

"I can't guarantee the way others respond to them," Dulcea said calmly. "And there are always a few of my predictions that come with interpretations others don't' normally see, but I can assure you that my fortunes always come true sooner than later. Sometimes not until much later. It's the future, your majesty, not the very next second. It can be weeks, months, even years before my predictions come to pass." Her eyes narrowed a fraction. "Though I can say in your case, your majesty, that if you're already having trouble coming to terms with what you've heard today, it will be a while before you're able to be the king you're destined to be."

"In other words," Edmund joked. "You need to get over yourself."

Lucy and Brielle giggled to themselves while Peter rolled his eyes once more. He got to his feet, reached into his pocket of his tunic for enough Lions and Trees to pay for the fortunes, and held them out to Dulcea. Dulcea waved off the gesture with a simple lift of her hand. "There's no need for the payment your majesty. Your presence today was payment enough." She lifted her hands and gestured towards the royals sitting in front of her. "I hope you all take what I've said kindly. We will see each other again."

"That was fun!" Lucy declared.

Peter waved a hand. "I wouldn't put so much thought into what she 'foretold'." He used air quotes around the words.

"It's just harmless fun, Peter," Susan reminded him. "It's not like she told us…" she looked around the market, trying to figure out something outlandish to foretell. Finally, she shrugged and said, "It's not like she told us that mum and dad would end up in Narnia."

"And you're telling me Brielle is going to find herself falling in darkness?" Peter asked, gesturing towards their friend, who was, he realized, very quiet. Which was more than strange for her. "And not come out form it?"

"Dulcea said Brielle will find her way back to the light," Lucy insisted. "It's all true, she saw into the future. Our futures, you know, deep down, all of what she said was true. It's going to happen!"

"It's all just lucky guesses."

"You know it's true, Peter. We've been through too much for you to wonder whether to question it. This isn't just another silly game I could've come up with." She looked around at the group. "Didn't you feel it?"

Brielle turned the page of her book, the sound echoing along the large library of Anvard. While not as grand and boisterous as the library of Cair Paravel had been, it was a place she still found refuge. The night was calm and silent, now that she, Caspian, and the Pevensies were guests of the castle, it wasn't needed for such theatrics that were shown for the first day.

Yes, there was to be a grand dinner as always, but nothing as big as the feast and festivities of the first night. Nevertheless, the servants and slaves of Anvard were all working to make things worthwhile for their royals' stay. A quiet library was better for her, rather than being pestered by those that consistently asked if there were anything she'd needed. None of the protection was needed so much, Anvard was stronger than Narnia and the Narnian rule.

Brielle rested her chin in her hand as she poured over the pages of her read, of the tales of previous histories that'd happened in Narnia, along with the fabled books she read. Fictional tales of years that had passed. Very similar to the books that she'd read back in England. Of a life she didn't remember much, didn't have the time to remember. But after hearing the fortune that day, her thoughts shifted to her father.

A pain that plagued her…It can only be my father, Brielle thought.

"Bri?"

She jumped, nearly throwing her plates of food across the floor when seeing her father standing in the middle of the carpet. He rubbed the back of his head, blinking rapidly as he looked around the living room. Brielle frowned, watching the familiar twisted expression that came to his face, the seconds passing slowly.

Slowly, she set the plates on the coffee table, ready to go back for it later. As it was, she didn't feel as hungry as she had seconds ago. She'd get it later, he probably hadn't noticed she'd made more than enough for him in his state anyway.

She sucked in a deep breath, lifting her chin, braided pigtails falling behind her shoulders. Cringed a little, knowing what was to come. Hoped she'd timed things out this time, in case she couldn't stop it. Her father stepped toward her, his eyes eyeing her suspiciously as he asked, "Where've you been all night?"

There were a few moments of silence, in which he waited for Brielle to respond. Gathering her thoughts, she took a deep breath and said brightly, "I was at school, daddy, you know that." She waited, hoping the light in his eyes would come back. The familiar twinkle that'd mean he was about to burst out laughing, assuring her he knew she was at school and he was only kidding.

Like he did sometimes.

The other times, like that moment, were the ones she worried about the most. They were happening too often for her's or her mother's liking. But without the money for proper care…

"Am I interrupting?" Once again, Brielle jumped. This time she jumped up, slamming her hand against her book. She lifted her head to see Peter walking her way, dressed more casually than he had when out in the market, eyeing her with worry. "You seem to have been deep in your thoughts."

"Just deep in my reading," Brielle replied pleasantly. She gently closed her book. "How many I assist you, your majesty?"

Peter gave her a knowing look. "You address me as Peter when we're in private, just as you would with the others. And even so, we're in private here and you address me formally. You didn't have such worries when we were at the market."

"I guess, being back in Anvard has made me more comfortable than I've thought," Brielle replied.

"Archenland was your home for a while," Peter agreed. "But Narnia has been your home as well. Are you telling me that you feel more at home here than there?"

"I'm saying I've felt more at home when you weren't pestering me," Brielle replied cheekily. "What brings you to the library anyway?"

"I had come by to find something to read," Peter replied. "There's only so many games of chess I can lose to against Edmund and Caspian still hasn't returned." Brielle lifted an eyebrow. "Caspian can take care of himself, he's sent word that he shall be back before complete nightfall." He paused. "Nevertheless, I couldn't help but notice how worried you looked."

"Worried?" Brielle repeated.

Peter gestured vaguely with his hand. "You were chewing your lip. You only do that when you're worried."

Brielle brought her fingertips to her lip. She winced, feeling the sting of her fingers reaching broken skin, finding a slight drop of blood on the pads of her fingers. She hadn't even noticed she was worrying her lip like that. She must've been doing it absentmindedly if she managed to get so far as to bleed. So far as for Peter to notice.

"I came over to see if you wanted to talk a walk with me," Peter continued.

She nodded. Understood. They used to go walking around Narnia all the time, when he was catching her up on why they'd been pulled to Narnia in the first place, when she had a tour around Cair Paravel, when he showed her to her chambers and taught her how to fight. When he found himself wanting to talk through his ideas. But that was in Narnia, they were in Archenland. Why would things be the same?

Then again, Brielle thought. Why would it be any different? She stood, smoothing down the skirts of her dress. "Yes, a walk would be lovely." She moved from around the table, abandoning her book for a servant to take to her quarters later, and walked alongside Peter through the castle.

Servants quickly greeted them as they went by, a quick call before ducking their heads and continuing with their chores and duties. This time, it was Brielle who showed Peter around the castle, explaining all the rooms, tapestries, and the history of the castle and those that had ruled before, only faltering in the time they'd been gone from Narnia. Finally, they came upon a balcony led from an empty chamber, that looked out over the courtyard of Anvard bathed in the light of the full moon overhead.

"Does it make you miss Cair Paravel?" Brielle asked, watching as Peter looked out over the courtyard below.

Peter nodded. "Everything makes me miss Cair Paravel," he admitted. "Even with Caspian making it so that we have a place to stay, treats us to feel that we're welcome there and family, Cair Paravel has been and will always be my home." He shook his head. "This just reminds me that the restoration efforts, while noble…I'd wished they were moving a big faster." He let out a long breath, briefly closed his eyes, then looked to Brielle. "I couldn't help but notice that the fortune you heard has put you in a bad mood," Peter remarked.

"Oh really?" She moved to his side. "How could you tell?"

"You're not as insufferable as you tend to be."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Brielle reached out and smacked him on the arm. A forbidden move had they been in public, would've shown too much to how close she was with the royals. There was still decorum she had to follow. Nevertheless, when Peter got under her skin like that… (though it wasn't that she was unable to do the same to him). She did her best not to notice how much her hand hurt amongst the slap to his bicep, while he seemed not to react to, if not for a quick look of amusement.

"You don't honestly believe in the fortune, do you?" Peter asked, after studying her for a moment.

Brielle shook her head. "It's not the fortune I was thinking about," Brielle replied slowly. "Well, in a way I was. But…" She took in a deep breath, bringing a hand up to gently stroke her broach. "It's my father." Peter turned, leaning his back against the balcony, watching her closely. "I haven't thought of him in a long time, but when I do…it's a very painful thought."

"I don't remember you ever speaking of your father."

"That's because I'd rather not think about him." Brielle shook her head. "Which is a very shameful thing to say, I understand." Pain bloomed in her chest, a thickening came to her throat. Made it difficult for her to get the next words out as she blinked rapidly. "It's hard to see him as a father, my father, when, in fact, he's a shell of what he once was." She lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. "Though, I'm sure you were worried the same would've happened to your father once the war had come to pass. If the worst didn't happen."

Peter lifted his chin, humming quietly. He nodded, turned his gaze towards the walls of Anvard. "I thanked Aslan that we didn't hear from our father as the war went on. That we didn't know if he were dead or alive, because I felt that no correspondence was always better in the long run. Yes, my mother worried, and continued to worry as the days passed. But I couldn't imagine what would've happened had we gotten that correspondence. If it were that he was dead or…" he trailed off for a moment. "That he wouldn't be the same when he returned." He lowered his gaze and stepped toward Brielle. "I'm sorry something like that happened to you."

"So am I," Brielle agreed. "If that makes me selfish…makes me a horrific human…then that is what I am." Brielle shivered. "My father may as well have died in that war, the way he came back. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Let alone on my own mum. She wasn't strong enough for it. And she's still suffering if time is moving as it is now." Brielle closed her eyes, willing the tears to stay back. "I'm a horrible daughter."

"You're not," Peter reassured her.

"I love my father but…I don't know if my father is still there."

"The harsh reality of war," Peter agreed. Pain flashed over his face. "Of all those we lost. Even if they don't perish, we continue to lose those in battle as the days pass. In many ways we couldn't expect. In ways that makes many suffer more than the loss itself."

Brielle shook her head. "What happened with Miraz wasn't your fault—"

"—I almost lost you all," Peter interrupted. "I put all of your in danger."

"We were fighting for Narnia."

"I led you into that fight."

"We all did it all willingly. To stop Miraz's rule." As is to prove her point, she looked down at her arm, where a long scar traced over the curve of her bicep. One she'd received in battle as well. "For better or worse."

"Those words are usually repeated in a wedding," Peter teased, hoping to break the serious tension, his words were flat.

Nevertheless, Brielle smiled. "It's the same thing, isn't it?" She asked. "We gave our lives, our futures, to Narnia. It's what we've all wanted, isn't it?" He nodded. "What else is it you want?"

Peter thought for a moment. For so long that Brielle wasn't sure if he heard her. Finally, he looked her in the eye and said. "A life." He continued quickly, filling the space. As if finally revealing things he'd never said before. "A future. The future I once had before. I…" he swallowed hard. "I miss the family I had."

Brielle knew he wasn't speaking about his brothers and sisters. But his own family he'd had before. The wife he'd had and loved so dearly. The one he never, ever spoke about or alluded to, despite the books giving attention to High Queen Diane.

"Queen Diane, may she rest in peace," Brielle said. "Was a lovely woman." There was a 'but' at the end of her sentence, a word she couldn't get out. A but Peter picked up.

"But she's not coming back," Peter replied. "I know that to be true. I hadn't thought of it much, until the fortune teller today."

"You believe what she said?"

"I still don't believe. Any of our choices change the future, no one can know what it is that's coming our way. Just as I had no way of knowing that I'd leave Her, or that we'd leave Narnia."

"The fortune teller—"

"-Everyone knew of the prophecy of us, but no one knew of us leaving. It wasn't in any books until after our disappearance. There was no way to know that our bout of wanting to have some fun, to have a moment to ourselves, would backfire in such a fashion." Peter shook her head. "Not even a fortune teller would know that." He stepped toward her once more, his hand brushing against Brielle's. She pulled the sleeve of her dress over her hand. "And I don't intend for a fortune teller to make me feel the future is out of my grasp."

"What is in your grasp, then?"

Peter surprised her with a kiss.

Not just the kiss, but the passion he put into it, so much so it robbed her of breath and allowed Peter to pull her close. To tighten his grasp around her waist as the first kiss subsided and another one started. To let her drink in the scent that was purely Peter Pevensie; like a combination of firewood, a grassy field, and the metals of sword and armor that made her head spin until she was dizzy, taking in as much as she could. She brought her hand up to rest on his shoulder, to hold him firmly, to ensure it was real.

It was a real as one could hope.

The kiss petered out.

Brielle stepped back, allowed her eyes to flutter open. She looked Peter in the eye, took in the almost mischievous smile that came to his lips and stepped toward him again. Brought back her arm and whisked her hand forward, sliding the dagger she had hidden up her sleeve to her palm, stabbing him in the stomach.

Peter's face changed almost instantly, the admiration—was that truly what she was seeing—turning to confusion and pain. The same eyes that slammed shut in a wince when Brielle pulled the dagger out, causing him to place his hand over the wound…the wound that didn't bleed.

"What?"

Brielle's face twisted into a very unladylike expression. Very different from how well she tried to compose herself. She looked at the wound, then back to Peter's pained expression, then to the dagger in her hand. The bloodless dagger. She turned it this way and that in her palm, almost willing the blood to appear. She looked to Peter, who slumped to the ground, using one arm to brace himself, but still fell clumsily.

"Bri…" he coughed, a rattling, liquid filled cough that didn't produce any blood that she thought would come. Instead, he fell back, becoming a cloud of dust and twigs that settled over the floor of the balcony before he could hit the ground.

What? Brielle studied the dust as it settled. Clenched her jaw so hard her head immediately started to ache.

"I didn't need that test," she spat over her shoulder. Turned to find Silas and Vincent standing behind her, leaning against the balcony that they'd silently crept upon. "You've questioned my allegiance and I've proven to you that I'm on your side." She gestured toward the now empty space behind her. "Why must you continue to torture me?"

"Is it torture?" Vincent tilted his head. "Is it testing you? We see it as preparation. To be sure your feelings aren't misguided when the time comes."

"My feelings for Peter are never misguided and have never been misguided," Brielle snarled. She stopped in front of Silas and Vincent, who eyed her carefully. "The High King is going to pay for what he's done to Maugrim."

"And for the others?" Silas asked. "For their Majesties, once they've found out what you've done?"

"They'll come to see reason once I explain to them what has happened," Brielle said, turning her gaze to her feet. Her eyebrows furrowed. "What the High King has done to fracture the diplomacy between Narnia and Archenland. They're understanding of how imperative it is that things are peaceful again, if they know that the High King is to blame…" she swallowed hard, lifting her chin. "They'll understand."

"And what about the fortune that has been told of them?" Silas questioned. He spun his ring around his finger, an almost absentminded movement. "What do they think of those?"

Brielle clenched her hand into a fist. "He doesn't believe that the future can be seen. His Majesty thinks the future is his to control."

"Very naïve thinking," Silas remarked. He stopped spinning his ring and rubbed at his chin. "There is another way to remove the source of the problem. As you have shown to us today."

"Killing him outright would be too kind," Brielle said. She took in a deep breath through her nose. "I want him to feel the same pain Maugrim would've felt, had felt. I don't want it to be easy. I want it to be slow." She shook her head. "He can hate me for the rest of his life, for as long as that would last. But I want him to suffer."

With that, she whisked her wand out from the inside of her boot and waved it in the air. The thin layer of dust that settled on the balcony immediately kicked up and blew around like a tornado without a wind to take it, carried on by her magic alone.

"And I know how to do it."

"The dinner?" Silas questioned.

"It shall be too obvious for their food to be laced if the rest of us appear to be of the perfect health," Brielle reminded him. "You're so headstrong you couldn't see the only flaw in your plan. But I've remedied that portion of your plan." Her broach flashed as did her eyes. "I just hope you're ready to act when it comes to pass."

A/N: Finally, got to some more witchy things with Brielle compared to the first chapter where you saw her using her magic to write in her book. She's strong, has managed to keep her powers going, but isn't as strong as Silas and Vincent. Also, I giggled a little, mentally picturing Brielle being so annoyed that she can't quite kill Peter yet, no matter how much she's been trying so far.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter? What did you think of each of the prophecies given?

Cheers,

-Riles