Chapter 7--Cephas

A/N: Yeehaw, I'm up to chapter 7! Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing!

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"Your Majesty!"

Victoria's attention jumped from the campfire to the speaker. She stood up and smoothed her skirts as a centaur trotted into the campground, carrying something in both arms. "Commander Maelchon, is something amiss?"

"Nay, Majesty," Maelchon bowed as Oreius saluted him. "My men were scouting ahead of the camp and found this. We think he may be hurt." As he spoke, Maelchon held out his huge arms, and Victoria gasped as she realised it was an unconscious young man.

"Bring him into my pavilion and lay him down," Victoria ordered. She deftly threw the remains of her dinner into the fire and muttered to Sallowpad, Oreius, and Anwyn, "Council adjourned." She swept into her pavilion, followed by Oreius.

Victoria, once in her pavilion, blinked until her eyes adjusted to its semi-darkness. As Maelchon draped the young man's limp form on a cluster of pillows, Victoria knelt over him. "Any idea who he is?" she whispered.

"Nay, Majesty," Maelchon replied, stepping back. "Never seen him before."

Victoria didn't notice as Oreius abruptly covered his mouth with his hand and turned away.

"He's extremely cold," Maelchon continued.

Victoria touched the young man's bare forearm, and pulled her hand away. "Aslan's mane, it's as though he were frostbitten! But the air isn't cold enough to inflict frostbite," she mused. "Find Tumnus the Faun, Maelchon, quick as you can; he may have some tea that can warm this poor man up."

"Aye, Majesty," Maelchon bowed and galloped through the tent's flaps.

"Queen Victoria," Oreius finally began. Victoria lifted her face up and glanced at him; his face was impassive as usual, but she thought she'd sensed a tremor in his voice. "I--I believe--do you know who this is?"

Victoria had no time to guess, for, with a deep, terrified gasp, the young man bolted awake. "Touch her again, demon, and I'll rip your head from your shoulders!" he barked, sitting up.

Pushing him gently back into the pillows, Victoria shushed him. "It's all right, sir; you're safe now," she murmured soothingly. "If you're tired, you may spend the night here."

His frantic, erratic breath steadied a little, and his eyes darted about the tent. "Where am I? Who are you?" he asked, in a quieter voice.

"I am Queen Victoria of Narnia, and you're at our camp at Glasswater, in my pavilion," Victoria replied. "And you?"

The young man's bleary grey eyes met hers, and slowly widened. He sat up again. "Victoria...oh God, Aslan really did bring me here..."

"What are you talking about?" Victoria asked.

"Victoria, it's me, Peter--your father."

As though she'd been insulted, Victoria stepped away from the young man. "Wh-hat?" she asked flatly.

Oreius bended his knee to the young man, to Victoria's stark astonishment. "My King, thank you for returning to Narnia in our--"

That was as far as he got, for indignant rage surged through Victoria, and she lunged forward and slapped the young man hard across the mouth. "Do not mock me, sir," she snapped, quaking with anger. "General Oreius, don't encourage a liar in his falsehoods. Sir, tell me your true name or I'll send you out of the camp."

"Your Majesty," Oreius began to protest.

The young man, pressing a hand to his hurt face, blurted out, "Cephas. My name is Cephas, please it your Majesty, and I cry you mercy for my falsehood."

Oreius glared, amazed, at the young man.

"Do not repeat it and I shall be lenient," Victoria replied tersely. "From where have you come, Cephas? Now."

"I live in Beruna, your Majesty. My family was making a trip to Archenland, and I lost them along the way."

Soft hoofbeats on the ground distracted the three, and they glanced up as Tumnus entered the pavilion, a steaming flagon in his hands. "You sent for me, Your Majesty; is every--" Tumnus broke off, and his blue eyes about tripled in width when he saw the young man. He almost dropped the silver flagon. "By the Lion--how--where--" he stammered.

"I am Cephas, sir," Cephas introduced himself firmly. "You?"

Tumnus opened his mouth to speak, but when he saw Oreius nodding briskly at him, he only muttered, "It's a pleasure, sir. My name is Tumnus."

"Now that you've made your introduction, see that Cephas is taken care of," Victoria commanded, and she stalked out of the pavilion.

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When he was sure Victoria was out of earshot, Oreius blurted out, "By Aslan! High King, why did you not tell her your true name!"

"It would've gotten me nowhere," Peter sighed, sinking back into the pillows. "Anyway, it was partly true. Cephas is my name in Greek."

"Greek? Never heard of it," Oreius waved that aside. "How did you get back here? And how is it that when I saw you last, you were twenty-seven, and now you're not nearly that?"

"I don't know," Peter murmured wearily. "I walked through a mirror--it was terrible."

Tumnus touched Peter's forehead. "Is that why you're so cold?"

"I think so," Peter shrugged. He turned away from his friends and gazed at the ceiling, in a morass of pain, disappointment, and confusion. Aslan, I thought you brought me here to help Victoria, he prayed silently, so why won't she recognise me?

"Drink this," Tumnus ordered, pushing a steaming goblet into Peter's icy hands. "It'll help with the cold."

Peter obeyed, and five minutes later, warmth and sleep claimed him.

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Victoria stormed towards the shore, biting her lip and clenching her hands in painful fists. Autumnal wind stung her tear-streaked face, and she shivered. At last, when she reached the shore, she flung herself crosslegged into the sand and sobbed. Who in Aslan's name did that insolent man think he was? Taking advantage of her like that...Victoria shuddered and wept angrily, not caring if anyone heard.

After a half-hour, her tears had subsided. Victoria wiped her face with the edge of her sleeve, and as she did, the gold ring hanging from her neck touched her skin. She jumped; it felt like a ring of ice. Carefully she reached into her bodice and drew it out into the starlight. Everybody in Narnia knew she wore it on her mother's chain, and why she wore it. Never had she imagined that someone would tease her because she wanted to find her father.

Again rage swirled in her spirit; she unfastened the chain and threw the ring, as hard as she could, into the sand. "He's probably dead anyway," she spat before she whirled on her heel and began to march away.

Victoria's pace slowed, stopped. She slowly turned around and stared at the ring, glittering and lonely on the beach. At last, sighing heavily, she went back, knelt, and picked it up. Carefully turning it around in her fingers, she read the familiar inscription inside: "Love Has Taken Magnificence and Transformed It Into Splendour. For Peter, From Morgana. 1006."

If he's dead, I won't believe it until I see it, the girl finally resolved. Until then, I gave Mother my word and I intend to keep it, even if others make fun of me.

Victoria looped Peter's wedding ring around Morgana's gold chain, and returned them to their place.