In his impromptu sleep on in the library, dreams came to the High King abstractly, as if shards of stained glass. The pieces, he knew made a clear and concise picture yet even if his mind could compose the pieces of the window into his subconscious, he would have seen naught the meaning behind it, only the stained glass symbolism.
Unknowingly groaning in his sleep, the Magnificent rolled over onto his side, discarding the open tome that had rested on his chest. An unearthly chill ran through out the library as he slipped into the same abstract dream.
The same voice, cold and disembodied spoke to him condescendingly as Peter held his sword at the ready. "Foolish boy." The voice taunted. "You think a mere blade will stay me?" He was no coward and the last thing he was about to do was retreat because something unseen flicked his nose. Wordlessly, he held Rhindon poised to take what ever came to him.
A chill as icy as the grave descended around him as he heard a familiar voice, tainted with unabashed hatred speak. "Your daughter entreated her life as I ripped it from her, General. And the son, whom you set much store on his bravery, whimpered as I peeled the very skin away from his body…so much for a long and nobly brave line, General Oreius." The words were no sooner spoken as Rhindon shattered into a thousand portions at Peter's feet as Susan's distorted face filled his vision and quoted the spirit from last night, "I am always present, Little King…"
Then everything fell into a suffocating darkness and Peter saw his brother's blade protruding from his own stomach. The High King saw the look of shock and confusion on his own face as the blade, wet with his own blood dripped onto the flagstone of the great hall. Lucy's face shone off in an uncertain distance, tears filling her eyes as she whispered something inaudible. As his last life's breath slipped from his lips, the mocking voice repeated its words from the previous night, "I am always present, Little King…"
Peter awoke with a start as he collided with the floor. He let a grunt of exasperation escape his throat as a light little laugh filled the room. With in moments, the ice of his nightmare began to thaw as his youngest sister bent down to help him up. "We'll need to put a nice cushy throw rug here if you insist on making this a common occurrence." She giggled as she situated herself next to Peter on the floor.
"Trust me," The High King replied, placing a good natured smirk on his face as he reached behind his head and beamed his baby sister on the head with a pillow. "I have no intention of do anything of the sort."
The girl squealed in protest at the affectionate act then situating herself farther away from the pillow's reach. Once she was certain he was not going to use the pillow against her again, she sighed and rested her head on Peter's shoulder. "What did you dream about?"
"Now who said I was dreaming about anything?" Came the reply accompanied with a smirk.
"I heard you talking in your sleep. And you only do that when you're dreaming." Lucy explained in a matter of fact tone. "So will you answer my question, or not?" She flicked her red hair over her left shoulder before she rested her head on his shoulder.
"Would you buy that I was dreaming about the ball tonight?" He prompted with a ridiculous grin.
"Not even if it were free, would I buy that." Lucy giggled quietly. She paused in her interrogation. She had heard bits and pieces of what Peter had called out before he fell from the chaise. Roots, and spirit and then something about not being able to win… She knew Peter was keeping his nightmare from her for what ever reason and the notion slowly came upon her to give him a brief-not in its entirety- overview on the dream that had plagued her several months ago. She had a brief notion that his nightmare was due to the castle and the previous night's happenings and decided quickly that giving one source of coveted information for another would give her the most information.
"Is it about what happened last night?" Lucy prodded, raising her eyes to look into the stony face of her brother's. When she was met with an absentminded touch on the head and a quiet 'never you mind', she decided to address the situation another way. "I spoke with Mr. Tumnus today."
"About what Lu?" The High King wondered grateful for the distraction.
"I told him about how you and Susan felt something too."
Peter rolled his eyes in a slight exasperation but did not open his mouth to scold her. He did not feel right about telling their subjects about the experiences they were having. The Magnificent did not want a panic to spread like wildfire, regardless if their subjects believed them or not. "And what did he say?" He wondered.
"He doesn't believe us." Lucy sighed quietly, rubbing her slippered foot against the cold floor of the library. "He says that he believes in such things, just not in this instance." Pausing, Lucy gave an audible sigh, "Might as well have told me he simply didn't believe me." Silence filled the room as Lucy gazed at the gray hem of her gown. Her thoughts were lost in the silence of her mind yet Peter empathized at her situation. Thirteen was an awful age to feel isolated no matter the birth order.
"I believe you, Lu." He told her simply, with an earnest tone he only reserved for his 'brother moments' beyond the prying eyes of the country. He was never really good at reassuring the others in such situations. Susan had the ability to ease every incident with such seeming ease, and there he was feeling more awkward than a flying dwarf. "And Susan does too. Sometimes we can only see what is in front of our noses…but I guess it would help to know that you don't face this alone…" Peter trailed off, finding himself in a new kettle of very awkward fish.
"In that case, mayhaps it would help you if you spoke of your dream…" Lucy trailed off, knowing that her brother was playing into her hands. "After all, 'twas no secret that I had night-terrors a few months ago. Talking about these things always helps one feel better."
"It was obvious even to the naked mole rats that once you got a full night's sleep you were back to most of yourself." Peter mused with a wry grin. He knew by then that she was playing him like a lute to needle out the details of what had shaken him so. "To be honest, I dreamt of what Su and I experienced last night…" He trailed off, feeling silly admitting this to his baby sister. In sooth, the High King wanted nothing more than to leave the castle grounds and never look back. There was something beyond him in the walls and the entity in his chambers proved it. Susan was correct in pointing out that it unnerved Peter to defend against a foe unseen. He never liked to show any trace of fear towards the others. Although his front did falter at times, Peter hated to see the wide eyed look in the others' faces when they realized that he was just as scared as they. How could a rock stand in adversity if the cracks were exposed?
Lucy's dainty hand found its way into the High King's sword hand which had sat limply between the two. Encouragingly, she gave it a small squeeze. "That would have been enough to send any warrior running." She reminded him, having been filled in with most of the story that morning. "I don't know what I'd do if the ghost sat on my bed next to me or walked through me."
"It was more than that," Peter admitted heaving a sigh, his reluctance to speak matched only by the peculiarity of the conversation. "It's the way the spirit spoke; 'I am always present, Little King'. There was such hatred in the way it said it. I can't shake the thought of what ever is in this place as pure and utter evil."
"I agree." Lucy told him seriously, a grim look painted on her face. "I would be happy if I could leave here this very minute." She sighed and rested her head against Peter's shoulder. The two sat in contemplative silence for quite some time, each attempting to analyze the problem at hand.
At length Peter made a move to stand. The afternoon was waning and the long process of preparing for the ball at sunset still had to be attended. However the familiar high rolling trill of 'Yoo-hoo!' echoed through the library as Betsy Peahen skittered into the room with her recent clutch of six chicks in her wake.
Only a hatchling when the long winter ended, Betsy had a life-long fondness of the High King, as was a notable trait for the clan of chickens. She preened her beetle-green tinted feathers to a sheen for the ball that evening and even her little chicks' white and black feathers puffed with cleanliness. "Your Majesties." Betsy began, bowing low and giving a low cluck to the chicks to follow suit. "I am glad that I have found you. I have a most pressing matter to speak with you on, King Peter."
"You have but speak it, Lady Peahen." Peter assured her genuinely, noting how the hen was practically sitting on his leg. As uncomfortable he was with the family's attention to him, he knew that their advances to him were all in good nature. Betsy was unfailingly loyal to her husband, Sir Gallus Galewe.
"I know you are preoccupied with affairs of state, but I just simply can't wait until the ball tonight in which to speak with you, Sire." She began as Lucy followed five of the chicks across the room. Forsaking decorum, she flopped onto her stomach to follow the chicks part way underneath a chair. "It's about my son, Danilo."
"Ah yes, Squire Danilo is to be knighted tonight. He's one of the best. You must be very proud, Betsy." The High King returned kindly, telling no falsehood of the hen's cockerel. Danilo was a good squire and would make a fine knight. The poor young rooster had a strong sense of duty and surprised everyone at first with his success. Fortune and others smiled jokingly on any Peahen born male.
Beyond Betsy and Peter, Lucy kicked her legs absentmindedly and giggled as the five swarmed over her obstructed upper half. The sixth chick, an odd, antisocial little thing explored by himself near the entrance.
"That's just the thing, my Liege." Betsy explained, her tone dripping in honey, as she shortened the distance between her and Peter's thigh. "Mummah is still at the Cair to be near Mitsy when her chicks hatch and I know she would want to see such an auspicious occasion in her grandson's life. Do you not think?"
"I think that there's another reason behind this, to be honest with you. Your mother spoke to me about this matter too. As did Gallus." Peter pointed out and the hen pulled her neck close to her feathers sheepishly, puffing her up. She was extraordinarily protective of her first clutch, Danilo especially.
"I can tell no fallacy to my Liege." Betsy conceded and opened her beak to explain sheepishly but was stayed by Peter's hand resting reassuringly on her back.
He flashed her a smile and promised that he will delay the cockerel's knighting as across the room an angry cry filled the room. "I don't want to play with you and that mealymouthed-whore of a queen, damn it!" the sixth chick shouted to one of his sisters. The noise had startled Lucy who, forgetting she was half under a chair, tried to sit up and hit her head against the wood. The little chick who tried to reach out to her brother ran to her mother and Peter, her wings outstretched and her head hung in fear and sorrow.
"Ove!" Betsy reprimanded, not bothering to keep her anger in check in front of her sovereigns. "Why by the Lion would you say such a thing! Queen Lucy is your queen. It is under the grace of her and her sister and brothers that we live in Narnia. How dare you say such things and you know better to raise your voice to your sister! Come here this instant! Just you wait until your father hears about this."
The chick strolled to Betsy casually, as if he had all the time in the world and looked at his mother threateningly. At length he told her with language colorful enough to make a sailor blush where she could stick her opinions.
"Where by the Lion did you learn these words, Ove?" Betsy demanded as she ushered the remaining chicks to her.
"Aye, I have a few choice word of my own to tell that bloke, myself." The High King frowned, angered at the words spoken against his youngest sister. Lucy made her way over to them and flopped next to her brother with her hand rubbing the spot of impact.
"Itzal told me to say it, Mama." Ove admitted sheepishly. The chick hung his head in shame, obviously contrite for his actions.
"Itzal?" Lucy wondered, contorting her brow thoughtfully. "I do not recall anyone of that name at court."
Betsy shook her head angrily, her eyes boring holes through her son. "And you never will, your Grace." She explained in a disgusted tone, "Itzal is the name of Ove's invisible friend." Had Betsy intended to elaborate on that, she was too vexed to continue and began to usher her chicks out of the room. "I must go and think of a punishment befitting this transaction. You have ages of my sincere apologies, Queen Lucy. Although I wish I'd have more to offer. Rest assured someone is going to be punished severely."
"Don't worry about it Betsy," The Valiant assured the hen kindly with her trademark smile, "I know there was no weight in the claim." She stood up with Peter to walk the hen and her chicks out. One of them paused and ran back to Lucy's feet.
"I think you're better than…" she paused, thinking of the best thing in the world that could not hold a candle to her queen. "cake and herring!" It was an unconventional list to be better than and even the Magnificent had to crack a smile at the notion.
Betsy smiled at the well meaning chick as she led them out in a single line. Despite his transgression, Ove was the last in line and he paused. He turned reluctantly and announced to the two monarchs in a confused tone- as if he was unsure of what was coming out of his beak, "Itzal says that he 'hears all that the moon sees, children of Helen'."
A/N: well, here it is. I know its another short chapter but it has tons of symbolism and in a way foreshadowing to digest. People often say stories take a life of their own and this chapter is one of the cases, I guess. What intended to be a quick scene ended up being the entire chapter. Anyway, thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, alerted and help me. (if you fall into more than one category make a wish! It might come true) I'm magically delicious…goodness do I need sleep…