Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait. I promise after this chapter, the plot will start picking up. I just wanted to establish how slowly but surely Annelise is adapting to life in Narnia. I always find it annoying how in other stories OC's seem to adapt so effortlessly to the idea of magic and talking animals. Comments are greatly appreciated. Thank you!


Entwined Arrows

~Chapter Five~

A Rather Small Silver Lining In A Sea Of Clouds


Its peaceful and breathtakingly beautiful with the array of exotic flowers that seem to dance from side-to-side under the barely visible predawn light. A chilly breeze blows through the brilliantly green branches of the trees that tower over most of the garden's expanse. It's almost as if the wind has suddenly decided to rouse the local flora and fauna from their respective slumbers. At the moment, everything is silent—the type of silence that belongs within the beauty of the garden—and strangely comforting. I don't dare utter a word nor move a muscle since I'm afraid that the silence will be shatter if I do so. Instead, I stare blankly ahead into the surface of the sea.

I'm unaware of how long I have been sitting here, with my arms wrapped around my legs and my chin resting in between my knees, when a cheerful whistle shoves me back into reality abruptly. Blinking my eyes back into focus, I raise my head and scan the area for the source of the now growing whistling. Walking into view, with his hands shoved casually in his trouser pockets and his cloak flowing regally, is Peter, who seems to have not noticed me yet if the continuing carefree whistling is any indication. I raise a questioning eyebrow when he stops tersely before me, a perplex expression of his own appearing on his handsome face. A few silent seconds pass before Peter clears his throat politely.

"Good morning, Lady Annelise," Peter murmurs. "I was unaware that anyone would venture here so early in the morning, and in this part of the gardens."

"Oh. Hello," I mumble. "Why do you say that?" I wrap my cloak more tightly around me, glancing sideways at Peter.

Peter smiles, hesitating at the foot of the bench to my left. Realizing he wishes to sit down, I make room for him. When he sees that I'm being surprisingly pleasant, he sits down next to me.

"This part of the gardens is actually unknown to anyone else, sans my siblings and I," Peter responds.

"Oh… I found it on accident actually…" I trail off uncomfortably. I bit my lip and advert my eyes to the ocean in the distance.

Peter seems to realize that he has made me uncomfortable. "I apologize! I didn't mean to offend you. I was just surprised to see you here," he backtracks quickly, aiming a rueful smile my way. "I come here for a daily walk before continuing my royal duties. This beautiful place helps me clear my head, helps me relax."

I spare a brief look and a tentative smile his way. "Yeah, it is very peaceful here," I pause hesitantly, before continuing in a wistful voice. "The garden reminds me of home." I'm referring to the atmosphere of my mom's prized garden. It had been a place of comforting solitude when I wished to be alone. A wave of sudden longing washes through me that I'm left reeling.

Peter nods understandingly. "Of course. I understand that you are still trying to come to terms with all of this."

Unexpected anger shoves sadness out of the way. "I hate it. I hate how hard it is to accept all of this," I say bitterly. "I wish I knew why I was send here. Then perhaps I can start to enjoy it here. How did you do it?" I look squarely at Peter, willing him to share his secret with me.

Peter suddenly looks into the sea. It's as if he finds it easier to respond to my question if he's not facing me. "It wasn't easy—and it still isn't. The only reason I have not made a fool of myself is because of Ed, Lu, and Sue. Whatever one of us lacks the other compensates for. It's so much easy knowing that the whole responsibility of Narnia doesn't rest solely on me; they can help shoulder some of the burden."

I follow his lead and look into the sea. "It's so unprecedented to have four monarchs rule a country together, without bloodshed and deceit thrown into the mix. I commend you guys," I murmur.

"Yes, you're right. Back home, in England, we only have one monarch and he's more of a figure head, rather than the decision maker."

I nod. "Yeah, same with the United States. Congress is the one that makes the laws and the president is there to execute and enforce the laws."

Peter chuckles. "It's still so strange to be a King. Now, I have to put my people first and myself last. Sometimes I wonder if I'm truly doing a good job of running Narnia…" He trails off, a look of uncertainty filtering tersely across his face.

Suddenly, it is as if I am seeing Peter in a different light. Like I'm starting to realize that he has insecurities just like me, despite being a king. Like I'm able to relate with him. And then I remember that I never thanked him for saving me. I wince at my thoughtlessness, silently scolding myself.

"Thank you for not letting me drown," I speak abruptly, voice burning with gratitude. "You didn't have to, but I'm glad you did…" I smile gratefully at him.

"I wasn't going to let you drown," Peter says, surprised and offended by my words.

I blanch. "I'm so sorry. I—I did not mean it that way. What I meant was you didn't even know me at the time and yet you still risked your life to save me. That takes a lot of bravery. Truly, thank you," I say.

He smiles genuinely, blue eyes searching mine as if he's trying to find something. A breath hitches in my throat at the enigmatic look in his eyes, silently hoping that he has found what he is looking for. "You're most welcome. And I would do it again if I had to. Will you join me on the rest of my walk? I want to show you something if you'll allow me," Peter asks, raising from his seat to his full height.

I'm suddenly aware of how tall he is due to the way he looms over me. He offers me a hand, a silent invitation that I can turn down if I wish. I hesitate briefly before placing my hand in his. I'm rewarded with a charming smile and an assuring hand squeeze as he helps me fluidly to my feet. His eyes flash to my worn cross trainer clad feet in question, but chooses not to comment on my current wardrobe. Tucking my hand through his elbow, Peter leads me through a path where immaculately cut shrubby hugs both sides of it. I glance around my surroundings with interest. After just a few minutes of walking in a straight line, we walk into another garden with a myriad of equally beautiful flowers surrounding a statue of a lion in the middle. It appears to be a shrine dedicated entirely to the lion. We stop short of the statue. I stare at the figure of the lion, who is standing regally, with intelligent eyes staring back at us.

"This is Aslan, Lady Annelise. You might recognize him from many of the paintings and tapestries around the palace," Peter remarks.

I nod. The lion did look vaguely familiar. And I do recall Lucy mentioning him several times. I trail my eyes over the lion's form, wondering why exactly did Peter bring me here.

As if reading my mind, Peter replies, "He's the reason why you are here in Narnia. Only he can take you home. I'm honestly surprised that Lucy hasn't showed you this statue; it's her favorite of him. I must say that the sculptor captured Aslan's likeliness rather well…"

I wince inwardly at Peter's words. I haven't exactly been pleasant and approachable to any of the other Pevensie siblings. Only Peter has dared to approach me. As for the rest, they have left me alone for the most part. I stare harder at statue Aslan, silently willing for it to give me a sign, a signal to why I have been brought here. When the statue just stares blankly at me after several minutes, I turn my attention back to Peter with a dejected sigh. I feel foolish for thinking that the statue would all of sudden start talking to me, even if this world is magical.

"…I haven't seen him since my siblings' and my coronation, which was two years ago," Peter muses aloud, oblivious to my distracted behavior. "Perhaps your arrival is an omen that we will see him again soon…"

I aim a skeptical look at him. "I dunno. Lucy and Edmund did say that I'm not the first human, besides you guys, to arrive to this world. Maybe I stumbled upon some unknown portal by accident. And I'm not intended to be here," I comment, grimacing at the absurd words coming out of my mouth. According to Lucy, I'm stuck here until I complete my purpose. Whatever that may be… I find that unsettling because the Pevensies have been here for two years without any signs of going home. Also, Lucy and Edmund say that I'm not the first human to appear in Narnia from another world. There have been many accounts of other humans appearing in Narnia, Archenland, and other neighboring countries. As if that's supposed to make me feel any better…

"That's an interesting thought, but we have no way of knowing that for sure until Aslan confirms it himself. Until then, I'll make sure we all keep an eye out for him," Peter says reassuringly, attempting to quell the look of panic on my face.

I smile half-heartedly. "Is there a way of summoning him," I ask hopefully.

"Unfortunately no, Lady Annelise. Aslan is not a tamed lion; he comes and goes as he pleases. But like I said early, he may make an appearance soon." Anxiety grips me at Peter's words.

"I just wish he would come soon," I murmur aloud to myself, casing a troubled look at Aslan's statue.

"I know," Peter replies softly, resting his gaze compassionately on me.

~.~.~

After Peter had kindly escorted me back to my room, I took to pacing from my bed to the door and back. Since seeing Aslan, a sudden anxiousness had taken over me. It's as if the foundation for how I had perceived fantasy and reality had been wrenched out from underneath my feet like a carpet and shred to pieces. And I'm left reeling as I scramble to pick up the remaining pieces in an attempt to reassemble them. The younger me, the romantic, naïve me, would have accepted the idea of living in a place that is similar to that of fairytales I use to worship. However, I have always pride myself in being rational, meaning collecting all the facts and evidence before coming to a conclusion. Yet despite having all the compelling evidence in front of me, such as the talking wolves; the impressive structure of Cair Paravel; and the magic in the air, I'm still having a hard time accepting all of this. It's like I'm trying desperately to hold on to the small amount of reality and sanity I have left, but it's slowly slipping through my fingers.

I—I just...need to know why I'm here. I need to know what my purpose is. All this waiting around twiddling my thumbs isn't really helping my nerves. Peter had said that Aslan is not a tame lion. However, I can't help but think that perhaps I can find him myself. Maybe the local Narnians know a thing or two about finding him. Or maybe the huge library in Cair Paravel will be of more help. Either way, I just know that I have to find him since he's my only hope of knowing what my purpose is here. At least the Pevensies seem to know what theirs is—ruling Narnia as its monarchs. Yet I don't and it seems very unfair that I have no prophecy to help guide me. It's as if I'm walking around blindly in a pitch black room with a very dim light for help. And every time I seem to gain a sense of what I'm supposed to do, someone or something turns off my light.

I lift my chin with resolve. I'm going to try to find and summon Aslan on my own, with or without the help of the Pevensies.

What if he doesn't want to be found, a small voice in my head whispers.

I hesitate, my heart stuttering. It's not really easy to find someone who doesn't wish to be found. But that doesn't mean I'm going to give up. I ignore the voice, square my shoulders, and march into the bathroom to take a bath. After scrubbing thoroughly and throwing on the first dress my hands touch, I head to the library to begin my research there. On my way there, I collide against a solid chest. I gasp, falling backwards. Two hands shoot out and grab my shoulders to steady me. I swallow as I glance up at a pair of dark brown, enigmatic eyes.

"Suh-sorry," I splutter. "I wasn't really paying attention where I was going, your majesty."

King Edmund releases me immediately. "It's quite alright, Lady Annelise. No harm done. I do believe you received more damage than I. Are you alright," King Edmund asks, eyes scanning me for any injuries. I redden and nod. "May I enquire where you are heading?"

"To the library to find a good book to read," I lie smoothly. Well, technically I am going to the library, so that's not a lie. But I'm not doing any leisure reading; I am going to conduct some old fashion research on Aslan. I sigh silently at the thought. Its times like this that I realize how much I had taken for granted the usefulness of technology. What would have taken me mere second-long clicks is now going to take me days if not weeks to sort through book after book for any useful information on Aslan.

"Ah, well, I'm heading over to the training area? Care to join me," he asks, which I am sure is out of politeness rather than truly wanting me there.

"No, thank you. Maybe next time." Another lie. I have no intention of joining him in the near future.

"Of course," he replies, getting the picture from my stiff posture and strained smile. "Next time then. Have a good day, Lady Annelise." He nods a polite farewell, before walking away.

I grimace.

Despite my unwillingness to befriend them and my rather aloof attitude, the Pevensies never fail to be kind and polite to me, much to my astonishment. Each day they invite me to join them in various activities and each day I decline their offers rather coolly. Yet their politeness doesn't slip or falter. I keep waiting for the day when they will get tired of inviting me to join them on walks on the beach, horse rides through the forest, brunches in the private, royal garden, among other activities. But each day they keep asking, even though they know what my response will be. A part of me, the polite and kind part of me, reprimands me for being rude and ungrateful. However, that part is squashed ruthlessly by the larger more dominate I-Could-Care-Less part.

I shrug my shoulders and stalk with purpose to the library, paying no attention to Fenris who has slipped silently behind me.

Shoving yet another book away from me and into the pile of books deemed worthless and irrelevant, I heave a sigh. It's been almost two hours into my research of the great lion and I have yet to find anything useful on how to summon him. So far, all I have learned is how Aslan created Narnia and the other countries—a story that seems more farfetched and outrageous than the Christian belief of how Earth was created—Aslan's role in the Battle Beruna, among other paraphernalia. I move to pick up another book, when a clearing of a throat forces me to partially acknowledge my silent bodyguard.

"Yes," I ask tersely, eyes stubbornly refusing to completely acknowledge him.

"May I ask why you insist upon looking through all these books," Fenris questions.

I blow at my bangs with impatience, eyes finally looking at him. "Because I wish to learn more about Aslan and how I can personally summon him myself," I reply casually.

"I was under the impress that His Royal Highness already told you about the difficulty of summoning Aslan. Are you not happy with High King Peter's response," Fenris probes.

"No, I am not," I respond bluntly, staring unflinchingly at Fenris's narrowed eyes. "I have never been one to take what someone else says as a fact. I am more of a Find-The-Facts-Yourself person."

Fenris flicks his tail in an unimpressed manor. "Have you found anything useful?"

"No, not yet," I say in a sulky tone.

"Well, maybe because none of the scholars really know how to contact him," Fenris states.

I sigh. "Be that as it may, it has only been two hours of looking through books. I'm sure there must be at a book or two with some useful information. I just have to keep looking. And if that fails, I'll start talking to the Narnians," I inform him smugly.

"What make you think any of us know a thing about summoning him," Fenris challenges.

"Its Narnia, Fenris," I declare matter-of-factly. "I'm sure someone knows something. It's just a matter of finding that person."

"Well, I personally think you are wasting your time," Fenris retort.

I shrug uncaringly, blocking out the grumblings of my unusually vocal bodyguard. After another hour, I slam shut the last book of my pile with a growl of annoyance. Well, there's three hours of my life that I will never get back…