Chapter Eleven: Questioning The King

Peter closed his eyes, waiting for the bite to come. Waited for the sharp teeth to sink into his flesh and rip out his throat. He lifted his arms, clumsily brought up the tip of the sword, pointed it up ahead of him. Squeezed his eyes shut tightly as the weight landed directly on him. He felt the warm breath on his face, heard and felt the gnashing teeth inches from his eyes, from the tip of his nose. Felt the large paws scrabbling to take hold of his front, to tear into his flesh and make him immobile.

Then he heard a warring cry that morphed into a desperate plea for pain to recede and opened his eyes. He saw Maugrim laying above him, breathing hard as he tried to regain his footing. His feet scrambled along the ground, trying and failing to grab any traction. Through his heart was the tip of a sword that stretched so far it poked through his back. Peter scrambled backwards, watching as Maugrim continued to twitch and convulse upon him, his two companions slowly backing away. Eyes wide with horror.

Blood dripped from Maugrim's lips. Pooled to the ground beneath a sharp contrast to the bright green grass it stained. His eyes narrowed, a low growl started to form, then bubbled away. Pain and fear reached his eyes, which suddenly moved to just behind him. Maugrim tried, once more, to say something, then fell heavily onto his side.

Didn't move.

Stared straight into his glassy eyes, watching as the life faded away into nothingness.

Peter's eyes shot open as he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. He rolled onto his back and brought his arms up to cover his flushed face. His hair was plastered to his forehead, damp against the sweat that appeared in night, cheeks mottled with red. He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath, working his heart to calm from the horror of the nightmare.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes once more, taking in the bright sunlight that streamed over Archenland. Something about it was different than the way the sunlight streamed over Narnia. Or maybe he was much more homesick than he thought he'd be. Appearing on the beach at Cair Paravel, at the ruins of Cair Paravel, had been a sharp contrast to their elation of being back in Narnia.

When they stepped out onto the beach, he was happy. Nothing short of excited that they weren't going to another year of school but was back in Narnia, where they'd been the happiest. Where they didn't have a war to worry about, where they had a fantastic place that they could be themselves. Being back there, for the first fifteen minutes, was nothing short of elation. Where they ran back and forth against the spray of the water, it splashed up at their heels, flying through the air as they sprayed each other, squealing in absolute delight.

Even Brielle, who was one who always had to be the bet dressed, was allowing water to soak her clothes and hair. It'd been a surprise when they ran into each other at the train station, ready to start another year at different schools. They'd kept in touch with letters as their time from Narnia within that year continued to stay further and further in the past, the relationship holding strong, not lost as they quickly caught up with each other, waiting for their train to come.

But it was like everything had gone back to normal, their new sense of normal when they were transported back to Narnia. And now…as long as Narnia would keep them there…they'd be sure to make Narnia even a fragment of what it used to be.

But what if that's it? The thought crossed Peter's mind before he could stop it. What if they were staying in Narnia until things were brought back to normal. Until the peace between Narnia and Archenland had been restored and Cair Paravel was rebuilt. What if, in that time, they finished everything they needed to do and were cast out of Narnia once more?

What if they couldn't go back?

Peter shook his head and sat up. Rested his face in his hands, the cool touch of his hand bringing down the warmth he still felt. As long as they were still in Narnia, he didn't have to worry about it. Shouldn't have to worry about it.

Unless Dulcea's prophecies came true. Peter didn't believe it, exactly, but didn't quite…disbelieve it. His siblings all seemed to take it in stride, even Susan, the intelligent one, the mature one, seemed to be interested in what her future held. Took what was told them in excitement and stride. But he couldn't do that, couldn't open himself in that way, as no one controlled his destiny but him…and maybe Aslan.

Aslan, who they hadn't seen since he'd helped save them from the Telmarines, who were about to win the battle and the war. He'd disappeared as quickly as he came, since having had released some Telmarines back to their home, back to their real world, where their ancestors had come from. They had a choice, if Peter and the others were to be cast from Narnia once more, it would be without a choice, though the first time had truly been an accident.

They lived their lives out through the Golden Age and, just so happened to stumble upon a familiar area as they chased the White Stag. Peter worked to remember what it was he wanted out of the stag had he had been able to capture it, but couldn't remember too much from that time. He remembered how much fun he had on the journey with his siblings, where they could be siblings and not just the Kings and Queens of old.

Where he didn't have to be the political leader of a group of people. Where he…where he didn't think about what'd happened to his wife while he was gone as she waited for him to get back. That was the hardest part for him, for returning to England, where his memories of Diane—High Queen Diane the Compassionate—slowly faded away. His memories of battle plans and mapping hadn't dissipated, he went from one war to another and back…but he couldn't quite remember the woman he loved so dearly.

Someone he'd trusted with everything. So he couldn't help but react unfavorably when Dulcea had made her prediction.

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."

How was he supposed to open his heart once more…when having done it before made it so that he continued to get hurt, continued to lose people?

Pushing his covers off him, Peter swung his legs out from his bed and walked to the windows. He drew open the curtains and winced, taking in the full brunt of the sunlight. He brought up a hand to shield his face then looked out over the courtyard below. Archenland was already up in full swing, just the way that Narnia had been once more. Nevertheless, he couldn't completely feel comfortable there, just as he couldn't with Telmar.

Peter decided to get dressed, opting to have the servants draw him a bath later. He'd just finished and was placing his leather-bound sword hoist on his waist when he heard the door to his room open. He reached out and grabbed the dagger that sat on the edge of the desk in his room and whipped around, throwing it in the direction of the door.

Brielle let out a shriek of surprise, bringing her hands up to cover her face and turned to the side, the dagger harmlessly passing by. Behind her, a trio of servants whisked into the room, converging on his bed to clear it from the rumpled mess he'd made.

Peter gaped at Brielle and the servants in surprise and light horror seeing how close he'd been to taking any of the four of them down. "What are you-?" Peter broke off his outburst, shaking his head. "You can't just barge in here like that!"

Brielle turned wide eyes to him, completely ignoring the personal space she'd just broken in to. In fact, she appeared offended at the question. "Did you just throw a dagger at me?!" Her voice carried equal amounts of outrage that Peter's voice held.

"It's your fault for interrupting me," Peter replied. He gestured lamely toward the wall where the dagger was gently bobbing up and down from the force of sticking into the wall. "I was practicing my aim."

"No kidding." Brielle looked toward the dagger. She reached up and pulled it out the wall, handing it back to him, blade turned toward him. "You missed by a mile."

"Get." Peter yanked the dagger out from her grasp, carefully twisting it so that the he twisted the hilt of the dagger into his palm. "Out."

"Look, I'm sorry." Brielle spread her hands. "I asked the servants if all rooms were cleared before we came to clean, but I guess they missed your room." She shot a scolding look towards the servants, as they continued to scuttle around, cleaning every inch of Peter's room. "The guards were under the impression you were out as well. And, besides, I wanted to give this to you." She reached into the satchel that hung off her hip and pulled out a hefty book. "I saw it in the library yesterday and thought it was something you may be interested in."

Peter's eyebrows rose as he took the book. He looked over the cover, recognizing it as a book on medical practices within Narnia. A small smile came to Peter's lips, remembering a memory form what seemed like so long ago, before a time where he and Caspian could even dream of getting along.

They'd just declared the duel against Miraz and were working to get Peter's support together. Caspian had bene against the idea from the beginning, saying, "This is not what I want, this is my fight," he had said, following Peter down a winding cavern corridor of Aslan's How.

"I think we already tried that," Peter replied sarcastically as they came to an open clearing. Candles illuminated the cavern. Peter came to a stop and turned to face the Prince. "Look, if there's going to be peace with the Telmarines, you have to be the one who brings it."

Caspian pressed his lips together, looking meaningfully at Peter. "How can if I you won't let me?"

Peter shook his head. "Not like this…not in a fight like this." He took in a deep breath, eyebrows coming together in a meaningful expression. "if I don't 'make it, Narnia's future is in your hands."

"And what about your own future?"

At the question a small, wistful smile came to Peter's lips. Wistful of a life he wasn't quite sure he'd go back to, or be able to experience. "Well, I was thinking about a career in medicine..." He trailed off, noticing Reepicheep, Trumpkin, and a bear standing around a stone table, where his dueling clothes lay. Peter sighed heavily.

"Your highness?" The bear asked.

"Yes?" Peter snapped out of his thoughts and looked to his subject.

"I'm a bear, I am," the bear said haltingly.

Peter chuckled. "And a very fine one, I'm sure."

"I beg your pardon," the bear continued. "But tradition holds that you pick your martials of the list."

Caspian nodded. He took a step forward so that he stood directly beside Peter, beside him and ready for any of the choices that the High King had to say. "He's right, you need to choose your seconds."

At that, Reepicheep took a step forward. "Sire, my life is forever at your command. But I thought, perhaps, that I might be sent for this challenge."

Peter chuckled even louder that time. He brought up a hand and it through his hair. When he managed to compose himself, he looked fondly at the small, brave mouse. It was the first time he'd thought about his home in England since arriving in Narnia, but a great memory nonetheless. "As you know, my good Reepicheep, many humans are afraid of mice." He gently shook his head. "And it really wouldn't be fair for Miraz to have anything in sight that could dilute his courage."

"Of course, your majesty, as a mirror of honor, that is exactly what I was thinking."

Peter nodded toward Caspian. "Caspian, tell Glenstorm I want him, Ed, and, whomever you may feel to fit right behind me, to be my guard." Caspian nodded mutely. Peter stared at him for a moment. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Are you sure that you are?" Caspian had asked in response.

It seemed so long ago that Peter was going to face, what he thought was, certain death. And now he may get the chance to have that medicine career take off. Even if it were in a different realm. He smiled, placing the book on his desk. "I thank you highly for this," he said. Then he looked at her closer. "But why are you leading the servants? You're not under Queen Aria's rule. You're Susan's lady."

"Old habits die hard," Brielle remarked. She shrugged delicately. "I felt like a bump on a log being here as a guest. I guess I feel that I needed to be a little useful while we wait to see what King Nain and Queen Aria say about the treaty with Narnia."

"And?" Peter prompted.

Brielle beamed and spread her arms, letting the long, flow sleeves of her dress hang as she spun in a quick circle. "I wanted to show off my new dress. It makes me look quite put together, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose," Peter replied after a quick pause—he was never quite sure what she thought of Archenland compared to Narnia of being a home to her. She did appear to be quite restless the longer they stayed in Anvard. "In certain lighting."

"What sort of lighting?"

"Absolute darkness." Peter laughed to himself when Brielle rolled her eyes and signaled for the servants to leave. "Thank you for this," he tapped his fingertips atop the cover of the book. "But I'm running late, I must be at Cair Paravel before nightfall."

"It's why the servants thought the room would be clear," Brielle said quietly. She crossed the room toward him. "Shouldn't you be there by now? You've got a late start, haven't you?"

"Yes, well, there's a lot that needs to be prepared before I see to the restoration efforts of our home," Peter said. "To ensure that it's brought back to its former glory, to stand as a beacon among those that want to find Narnia as a place to live peacefully."

"Better you than I," Brielle remarked. She reached out and smoothed down the collar of his shirt, using soft, deft strokes of her fingers to ensure it lied flat. "I wouldn't want to have all that weighing on my shoulders. Beauty being a lady in waiting, I don't have as much of the responsibility as the rest of you lot do. And, the plus side, you get me to help you."

"Oh yes, you've been very helpful," Peter replied sarcastically. He brushed his palms off on the sides of his tunic. "Nearly impaling you with a dagger has gotten me prepared for the trip and the meeting of those rebuilding our home. Not to mention intruding on my privacy."

Brielle's eyes flashed with mirth. "Ah, yes, but that's in private. In public, I'm the perfect lady." She made a show of doing a deep curtsie. "Take care on your tip, Peter. The rest of us will be fine here."

"I shall." Peter nodded, taking in a deep breath, taking on the feeling of having to be High King for those he was about to see. Not 'King Peter the Guest'. He held out his arm and Brielle and the servants swept their way from his bedchamber and went down the hall, knocking lightly on the door to another room before disappearing inside to clean once more.

Peter went down to the front gates of the castle where a carriage was being set up for his travels back to Narnia. He blinked in surprise, seeing King Nain standing aside it, barking orders to the knights that encircled the carriage. "You came to see me off?" Peter asked.

"Yes, I like to ensure that all our guests arrive and depart safely," King Nain said. He looked at the young king out the corner of his eye. "Certainly that's something you consider when there are those that come into your place of presence?"

"Of course," Peter agreed. "We Narnians make it a point for everyone who comes to our kingdom to find refuge and safety where they can."

"Then that brings question of your motives as a King."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Lady Brielle was seen coming out of your bedchambers this morning. Whether or not you've found it in your company to keep a mistress, it isn't what would be best for Archenland though she does come from high nobility. Part of this treaty, part of the treaty we'd had with Narnia before, was due to High Queen Diane's—" Peter's frosty gaze made King Nain abruptly break off his sentence into a light cough. "May Her Majesty rest in peace, but Queen Susan is not the High Queen and while it is being determined whether it is the Pevensies or Caspian who has the true rule to Narnia, it is imperative that certain images are upkept."

Peter sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, took a step toward King Nain. "With all due respect, your majesty, who or what comes out of my bedchambers isn't anyone's business but my own," Peter said seriously. "And I hope rumors and innuendo like that isn't what has you rule your town and country."

"Quite the opposite, actually," King Nain responded coolly. "Though it does bring to question what it is a young King is more concerned with. I implore you, to think more of what it looks like for the treaty and what it could mean in the long run if you are to bring us further into your questionable choices."

Peter gave a tight-lipped smile in response. "I'll keep that in mind."

And it was a wonder he was questioned about his trust of others.

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to back with an update, but here I am! To answer a few questions, it's pronounced "Dull-See-a" which, if you're a 90s kid, I got off of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers the Movie. It just really worked as a fortune teller name. And, as you can see here, yes, Peter was one married to a High Queen Diane. (I actually need to go back to see if I said it was Diane or Diana, lol). But I hope you enjoyed this chapter. We've got action and fight scenes and more of the upcoming war that was stated in the prophecy starting soon! The next chapter has another look into Brielle's past!

Thanks for reading!

Cheers,

-Riley