Author's Note: Ok, I tried to make that one longer. I'm also trying to do Peter like Peter. Let me know how I'm doing. And thank you for your reviews!
Susan had left and gone to her room, and so Peter was left alone in the hallway. He pretended to look at the paintings. The problem with that was that there were only two of them, so by now he'd already looked at the two of them overly much.
The first was of a beautiful sunrise coming up over the sea. Sand dunes were framed by the light reflecting off of the glassy water. A trio of seagulls wheeled in the sky, with a fourth diving towards the sea. Peter, as he scrutinized the painting, had noticed what might have been a pod of dolphins to one side. What looked like waves might have been drawn to signify dorsal fins. It was hard to tell.
The second was of the sun setting behind the mountains. The last golden rays shone between two peaks. The wooded slopes were resplendent in hues of gold and green, underneath a stunning sky. Purples, blues, and even blacks mixed together, with pink, red, and orange streaks cutting through it. At the corner of the picture there was a translucent object covering a small portion of the view. Like a sheet, or curtain, blowing in front of it. It was almost as if the painting had been taken instantly, like a photograph back home in England.
Peter wasn't sure why he was lingering out here. He should be in his room, getting ready for dinner. But he told himself he had plenty of time. That he had time to stand out here and study pictures he had already memorized? Or time to work up the nerve to knock on Jaselle's door?
As he was lost in thought, something at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Turning, he saw that it was a small animal, a cat he thought, running lightly across the hallway that this one dead-ended into. He shrugged, and turned back to the painting. At first he didn't notice, but then his breath caught. The waves had moved! He studied it for a moment more. Yes, he was sure of it. They had moved, just slightly. To the left, following the imaginary current. Or was it imaginary? Was it a picture of something real, a painting of one particular moment? Even if it was, why had it moved?
He turned to the opposite side of the hallway, to the other painting. He noticed it instantly. The sun had sank just a smidgeon lower. Just enough to notice. But why? Why would a painting move?
Peter tried to come up with an answer. Maybe Jaselle would know something about it. And, he thought at the back of his mind, it was an excuse to knock on her door. He walked over to it and raised his hand to knock.
………………………………...
Hassin placed his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together, interlacing his fingers. He looked past them at the King, sitting across from him. Hassin had just finished giving his report, and was curious as to what the King would say.
"I knew that he would be young, but not this young. It could, of course, work to our advantage."
Clorin, who was pacing around the room, paused. He turned his head towards his father. Dark brown eyes flashing, he studied the King.
"How so, Father?"
The King smiled. Hassin saw instantly what he meant, had seen it all the way back in Narnia when he had first seen the King. His eyes flicked between the monarch and his offspring, watching as he would a show.
"We need this young King to trust us. Completely. If he should happen to fall for your beloved sister…"
At this Clorin spat at the floor. Wiping his mouth, he nodded.
Hassin spoke something else that the King had not mentioned, and perhaps overlooked.
"And of course, your Majesty, you realize that if she is caught with an enemy of the crown, she could be charged with treason."
Clorin grinned wickedly.
"Punishable by death."
The King nodded slowly.
"And his sister being here helps us as well. Maybe we can use her as a bargaining chip."
He looked pointedly at his son.
"Spend time with her. Get her to fancy you. Just be sure not to kiss her or anything. That would be murkren, forbidden."
At this Clorin spat again. Then he saluted his father.
"I serve."
The portly ruler turned back to Hassin.
"See to it that my late wife's daughter spends as much time as possible with this 'High King'."
He chuckled.
"She's so desperate, it's only a matter of time."
Hassin smiled. This was working out better then they had expected.
………………………………...
Jaselle was sitting on her bed. Her cheeks were wet, her eyes red. She clung to a pillow, and every few seconds sobbed into it.
Why? Why had she run away when the young rulers had offered friendship?
Because she was scared. Her entire life, she had only had three friends. One was her mother, one was a dog, and the other had been the daughter of a servant. Her mother had died, leaving her with no one. Then, to try and cheer her up, her father had given her the dog. It had looked at her with sad eyes, as if it pitied her. For two years she had loved that dog, until one day it had gotten attacked by a stray in the courtyard. It had died from loss of blood.
Then she had met someone. A girl, her own age. Clarea was her name. They had been inseparable, and had done everything together. Then, the King had gotten sick. Blaming it on food poisoning, he had ordered all of the cooks beheaded. Including Clarea's father. Clarea's mother had been forced to leave, taking her three daughters with her. Jaselle had never seen them again.
So far, every time in her life she had gotten close to someone, they had left. Leaving her alone. To sit on her bed, and cry.
Looking out the window, she saw the mountains to the West. It was still many hours until sunset, when she would sit here on her bed and watch it. Sit on her bed, and cry. Remember all of the people she had lost.
And remember the dream. Of her mother, talking in that sweet voice. About Narnia, the land where these people were from. These people who had tried to be her friends. She may have shunned them, but she needed to ask them. Who was this Lion? The one from her mother's stories, from her dreams, from the young king's armor.
She wiped her face, rubbing her eyes. She stood up, and strode over to the door. Reaching out and grasping the knob, she flung the door open.
And saw Peter standing there, his hand poised to knock. ………………………………...
Peter was surprised when she opened the door, to say the least. The first thing he noticed was her eyes. They were red, and puffy. Like she had been crying.
"Is something the matter?" he asked softly.
Jaselle shook her head slowly at first, and then stopped. Her eyes flicked from his shoes, to hers, then out the doorway past Peter.
"Can you, uh, come in?"
Peter smiled.
"Why I was knocking."
She looked up at him, catching his gaze. She looked immensely sad. But under that, she looked fearful. Fearful, but… hopeful? It was hard to tell. Peter didn't get much practice reading human expressions. Lucy was the one who could look at a person and see their soul. And Edmund could see people's intentions, detecting trickery and deceit. But Peter, well, Edmund always told him he was too trusting. That he trusted everyone. He had always thought that was Lucy, but maybe Ed was right. Lucy had to have gotten it from somewhere.
But right now, he didn't need to find out whether or not he should trust Jaselle. He wanted to see what she was hiding, deep down. What was going on in her head, that was causing her such anguish?
He smiled, trying to alleviate some of the tension. He stepped in past her, and she shut the door behind him.
Peter looked around the room. It was a nice looking room, with the same sand-colored walls the rest of the castle had. A large dresser stood along one wall, made of stone. Beside it was an equally stone desk, with a stone chair. A large mirror was hung above the desk, reflecting a view of the opposite side of the room. There was a large bed on the wall to the left, a four-poster canopy with obsidian posts. The headboard was polished to such a shine that it reflected almost as well as the mirror.
Across from the doorway was a large window that looked out over the mountains. A pair of pale pink curtains waved in the breeze. You could walk out onto the balcony, which was overtop of the gardens, Peter noted. All in all, it was a very nice room.
"I hope my room looks as nice as this."
He was attempting to start a conversation. It worked, but not in the way he was expecting.
"You haven't been to your room yet?"
Peter looked at her sharply. What could he say about that?
He shrugged, and told the truth.
"I was standing outside, studying the pictures. Waiting to come and ask to talk to you."
She frowned slightly.
"Why would you wish to speak to me?"
Peter faltered. Why had he wanted to talk with her in the first place?
"I-, I'm not sure. But the pictures outside, they moved."
She looked at him, puzzled.
"I'm sorry?"
Something inside of him told him to drop it.
"Never mind."
He paused, looking at her. She was staring at his breastplate. Looking down, he studied the depiction of Aslan on it.
"Do you not have lions in your kingdom?"
Jaselle looked up at him. He found himself drawn into her eyes. They were green, he supposed. But it wasn't the color he was concentrating on. It was the look of longing. The way she looked at him, it was as if he would be able to fix that. To satisfy her need, for something.
"I-, yes, we do. But that lion, it's special, isn't it?"
He smiled at her. So, Aslan was at work again.
He glanced over at the bed.
"Can we sit down?"
She nodded, and walked over to the bed. He sat down beside her. When he met her gaze, she was staring intently at him again. He swallowed, and began.
"This lion, is not really a lion. His name is Aslan"
………………………………...
Jaselle felt her heart leap when he spoke that name. Aslan! What a glorious title! When she heard it, it was as if all of her sorrows were lifted from her soul. Aslan! Oh, the sweetness of it. She wanted to say it over and over, for it to wrap around her and free her from her self-inflicted prison.
"Aslan…" she whispered.
But then, Aslan was just a name. She needed to know more.
"Tell me about Aslan. Please."
And so he did. Sitting beside her on the bed, he told her of Aslan. How he created the world. How, even when evil was let into the newly made world, how he didn't fret. How he made a way for evil to be beaten. How, centuries later, he returned to Narnia to free it form the Witch's reign. How he had called Peter and his siblings from another world, to fulfill prophecy. And then, after they had won, he had disappeared. Just like that.
As Peter spoke, Jaselle felt as if she was a part of the tale. As if she was there when Aslan had done all of these amazing things. She longed to meet this lion, to run his hands through his mane. To kiss his nose.
Unknowingly, she had grasped Peter's hands as he spoke. Peter had apparently kept talking. He had finished now, and Jaselle was staring at her hands. She wasn't really looking at them, just towards them. She was really picturing Aslan, and what might happen if she could just touch him….
"He does that to you. Even though we can't see him, he's always here. Watching us. Loving us. We just have to believe, and he'll help us out."
Jaselle's eyes focused, and she noticed that she was holding Peter's hands. She abruptly let go.
"I'm, uh."
Peter smiled softly at her.
"Don't be sorry. I'm here, if you need me to be. If you need a friend."
He stopped, and looked weird for a moment.
"Uh, yeah. If you,"
He was stumbling over his words. Jaselle smiled at him.
"Good to know I'm not the only one who's nervous."
Her grin widening, she slid a little closer to him.
"So, were you telling the truth? About being from another world."
Peter started to answer.
"Yes, I was. I-"
They were cut off by a knock on the door.
"Your highness? You are summoned to dinner."
Jaselle looked away from Peter.
"Thank you. I will be out shortly."
She turned to Peter.
"I need to change. So, I guess I'll see you at dinner?"
He nodded, looking awkward.
"Yes. Good-bye."
Peter stood and left. Jaselle stared at the crease in the bed where he had sat. She reached down and placed her hand on the covers. It was still warm. What had just happened there? She felt a connection to Peter. But what sort of connection?
Jaselle shook her head and stood up. She needed to get ready.
………………………………...
Peter retreated to his room. He kept opening and closing his hands, still feeling Jaselle's hands holding his. And then when she had leaned in close, asking about him, and not just Aslan. He had felt such a rush. But what would he do about it? He realized he shouldn't have even been in her room. Peter needed to be on good terms with the King of Lorsolum, so they could make this treaty. And then, maybe, there could be something. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully…
Peter shook his head fiercely. But not till then! He started to change, to get ready for dinner.
Author's Note: Alright, there's chapter 5. Hope you enjoyed. Please Review!
