A/N: Hey, y'all, this story reached the 200-review mark last chapter! Thank you all so much for your support. I get the warm 'n' fuzzies whenever I log in to my email!
On another note, this may be the last update for a brief while. School starts for me on Monday, and I have no idea how much work will be piled on me. So maybe we'll get lucky and I'll have time to write, but just a heads-up in case things change. Thanks ever so much!
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Enna stared up at Aramir, her heart pounding in her throat, and scrambled to her feet, intent on running as fast as she could in the opposite direction. But Aramir caught her arm before she got very far, and gently tugged her back to stand, trembling, in front of him.
He studied her face for a long moment before saying, bringing his other hand up to hold her arm, "Enna, what's going on?"
She stared mutely up into his emotionless face, his hands pressing into the faint bruises that still lingered on her upper arms. "What do you mean?" she managed finally.
"Who was that man?" he prompted, his grey eyes boring into hers. "What did he want with you? And what is that in your hand?"
Enna shook her head. "No one. Nothing. Just a letter."
"Enna," Aramir said reproachfully."
"It's nothing!" Enna cried. "If you'd be so kind as to leave me be—" She struggled to free herself from his grip as a mighty roll of thunder shook the very earth.
Aramir held firmly onto her arms. "Enna, I will have the truth! To me, it sounded as though you are in danger. Danger, Enna!" His eyes flashed with passion as he spoke.
Enna stubbornly shook her head again. "It doesn't concern you, Aramir."
"But it concerns you," Aramir exclaimed. "And that concerns me. You can't always save yourself, Enna. Sometimes you need help."
His eyes were earnest, and Enna felt her defenses slowly deteriorating as she looked up into them. "It's my uncle," she said finally, emotionlessly.
Aramir's grip on her arms relaxed to a kindhearted touch. "What about him?"
Suddenly, and without warning, she heard the whole loathsome story come spilling from her lips, and there was nothing she could do to check it.
"I lived with my father and mother on the isle of Galma," she began, dully, dropping her gaze to look at her feet. "My father was a rich merchant. When I was seven, his brother convinced him to sail to the Isles of Endis after learning that the inheritance that was to be his was to be entailed away instead to me, knowing full well what awaited my father there."
Aramir didn't say anything, but he gently rubbed her arms and watched her understandingly.
"Naturally, he fell ill soon after he returned," Enna continued, still keeping her gaze averted. "He died two days later, but not before my little sister took sick with the same fever. She survived, but was never right in the head after that. My mother married my uncle a few months later, and the sum total of my father's estate became his, for my father never got a chance to rewrite his will."
She took a deep breath and shut her eyes. "My uncle was cruel to us. He fired my tutors, forcing my mother to educate me in secret whenever she could. We were reduced to living in clothes that had been grown out of, and I labored in the fields with the servants, under conditions no man or woman should be forced to work in, while he spent the money that my father had put away for our education, our wedding presents, and our inheritances. He beat me and my sister terribly, and tried to—"
Enna broke off, opening her eyes and blinking fiercely. "I don't know what he did to my mother, but she changed, too, and left the job of raising my poor sister to me. I tried to watch out for her, but she was never very smart, and broke her neck this past spring.
"I left Galma soon afterwards, against my uncle's will. He was in a terrible high dudgeon that day, and left the house to be with some friends. When he was gone, I broke the lock that kept us from my father's old study, and stole his finest boots and a man's clothing, and went from the house to the harbor, about an hour's walk. There, I attempted to sign on to a merchant ship under my father's name, but as I was boarding, someone recognized me for a woman and chased me away from the dock. I was forced to steal aboard the Seacharger, and went undetected until…well, you know the rest."
With a tremulous sigh, she looked down at the scroll clutched in her hand. "Now, my uncle has decided he would rather scour the seas for me than just forget that I ever existed. He wrote a letter to me, threatening that…that he will bring me back to Galma and make me regret ever leaving. And I'm quite frightened!"
Enna dissolved into tears for the first time since her father died those many, long years ago.
Suddenly, Aramir's arms were firm around her, pressing her close, and as he whispered soothing words in her hair, she felt her stony defenses crumbling into little, tiny pieces at the first real human contact she'd experienced in months. She hid her face in his warm shoulder and bawled like a baby, only too glad that he was willing to lend her his shirt as a handkerchief. What frightful things would Sabsestrin force upon her? She would not go back to Galma peacefully, but what awaited her if she did would be almost worse than what awaited if she didn't.
Marriage?
She hadn't even begun to think of that, and the idea that her husband might be her own flesh and blood turned her stomach, sending sick shivers up and down her spine. Did that mean that her mother was—?
She drew a shuddering breath, and Aramir pressed a gentle hand to the back of her head.
"It's all right, Enna," he murmured. "I understand you completely. You're safe here."
Enna recalled the images of the four monarchs sitting majestically on their thrones, ordering the sea captain to leave Narnia forever; the imposing stone bulwarks and fluttering scarlet banners on the ramparts of the castle; the glint of Peter's sword as he drew it out into the brilliant sun.
She nodded against Aramir's shoulder. "He doesn't know I'm here," she mused, her voice muffled by his shirt. "Grigor said he wouldn't tell."
Aramir drew her away and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, looking caringly down at her. "You needn't worry a whit about it, Enna. I won't let your uncle get within a league of you."
Enna opened her mouth to speak, but then someone else cleared their throat, and she quickly detached herself from Aramir's arms. A faun stood before them, his eyebrow raised and mouth twisted disapprovingly. "The high king wishes to see you in the throne room immediately, milady," he said, bowing slightly.
Glancing up at Aramir, who nodded encouragingly, Enna rubbed her eyes a final time and followed the faun down the corridor.
The royal throne room was rather empty when the faun announced her arrival. Peter was seated on his throne, surrounded by two or three advisors, but when he saw her, he waved them out of the room. The faun closed the door behind her with a resounding clang, and she curiously approached the dais.
Peter watched her, and as she drew nearer, she noticed that he held in one hand a scroll, with a purple seal. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she said, "You wished to see me, Peter?"
He looked between her and the scroll a few times, his mouth set in a thin line. Finally, he held the scroll out to her. "Do you care to explain yourself, Lady Enna?"
Enna took the scroll, frowning, and began to read it.
To Their Most Royal Highnesses Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy,
From Their Most Constant Servant Sabsestrin Elyar Stalresin of Galma,
Concerning a Matter of Extraordinarily Great Consequence to the Health and Well-Being of Narnia's Most High Rulers:
Your Royal Highnesses, the man who pens this missive is a broken one. My home and family has been torn apart by a wretchedly missed member, who stole priceless objects from myself and my wife before absconding to a location unknown to myself. While we hold my niece Enwynna Stalresin, perhaps known to thee as Enna, wholly responsible for the destruction of the beloved family unit that we had so carefully constructed, we miss her dearly, and long for her safe return to Galma.
The reason for my writing this communiqué is not in my own interest, Most Gracious Majesties, but in thine. My niece is severely deranged, and greatly lacks in the areas of compassion, sympathy, and good sense. My wife and myself fear for the safety of Thy Noble Selves, not to mention that of thy good people. We beg of thee, if Enwynna is residing in your kingdom, rid thyselves of her! She is a pretty snake, a monster in the guise of a girl. Send her home at once, where she might be properly loved and disciplined.
I remain Thy Most Humble Servant,
Sabsestrin Stalresin.
Enna looked at the letter a long while after she finished reading it. How could her uncle stomach such blatant lies? Priceless objects? Beloved family unit? Severely deranged?
She raised her eyes to Peter's as he sat on his glittering throne, looking censoriously down at her, a lock of his golden hair slipping forward over his forehead. "Peter, don't tell me you believe this non—"
"Explain yourself, Enna," he cut across her, evenly, but stiffly.
Enna stared up at him. "Peter, my uncle, he—he is lying, unashamedly lying—"
"You have deceived us all, Enna Stalresin!" Peter said, his voice strained as he lurched forwards on the throne. "How dare you lie to us—to me!"
"I've deceived no one!" Enna cried.
"How do you explain this horrifying information your uncle so kindly relayed to me?" Peter retorted, gesturing angrily towards the letter crumpled in her hand.
"It's a lie, it's all a lie!" She pleadingly approached the dais, but Peter stood.
"What did you steal from your uncle's house, Lady Enna?"
"Nothing," she said imploringly. "I mean, I took a—"
Peter shook his head. "I've heard quite enough."
"Peter, it was naught but a shirt and trousers!" she cried, tears forming in her eyes again. "You don't understand. My uncle killed my father and married my mother for our money! He beat me, Peter! He is the source of every moment of pain that I have ever experienced. When my sister died, I had nothing left to keep me under Sabsestrin's fist. Had I stayed a moment longer, I would have surely gone mad! I had no alternative."
Enna crumpled the letter into a tiny ball and threw it with all her might into the crackling fire nearby. It went up in flame and blazed brightly for a short moment, before crumbling into smoldering ashes and sending a breath of smoke into the room.
"I couldn't kill him," she said, turning to look Peter in the eye. "I couldn't. I wanted to, but by Gale himself, I couldn't bring myself to." And the whole story came rushing out again; it was as if the dark corners of her heart, once exposed to the light of day, could do naught but seek it out again.
When she finished, the room fell strangely silent. She stared at the flagstones under her feet, waiting for Peter's response.
He cleared his throat. "I see."
Tucking a few stray curls behind her ear, Enna looked up at him. "Peter, please say you believe me."
Peter cleared his throat again, went a few paces back and forth along the dais, and eventually sighed, stepping down and coming to stand before her, his hands brushing hers. "I suppose I've got to believe you, Enna; I've known you for going on two months now, and, in all honesty, I was wondering if the Enna in the letter was the same Enna I knew. I apologize, really I do."
She managed a smile.
"I see now why you were so adamant about not returning to Galma," he continued. "Of course, I suppose quite a lot more makes sense, now." He lifted a hand and tilted her chin up to look at him. "You'll stay longer, won't you?"
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she replied curiously.
"The passenger ship is leaving for the Lone Islands in a few weeks. Please tell me you'll stay, even just a bit longer."
"I'll stay," Enna said, without a moment's hesitation. This surprised even herself, but she smiled.
Peter smiled, too, and traced her jaw with his thumb. Enna realized she was blushing furiously, but it didn't matter; for the next moment he was kissing her tenderly.
A foreign chill ran up and down Enna's spine at the contact, and she stood in one spot, frozen, until warmth gradually began to steal into her appendages again. Peter slowly wrapped his arms about her and drew her close against his chest. Almost despite herself, she went willingly, twitching her lips experimentally beneath his.
She felt more than saw him smile.
At that moment, a door flew open, and a centaur walked partway in before realizing what was going on and stopping suddenly. "Your royal brother wishes to see you in the stables, my liege," he said, hiding his face with one hand.
Peter released Enna, blushing. "Aye, thank you, Ciprian." Casting an apologetic look at her, he squeezed her hand before reluctantly going through the door Ciprian held open. The centaur eyed her suspiciously before closing the door behind them, and Enna slid to the ground, a foolish grin on her face.
Maybe she would stay a bit longer.