I AM A SINNER

Presenting the third chapter! It's been a bit of an emotionally disturbing week for me, so it really, really helped to write something like this.

This one focuses on Peter, as some of my readers have asked, and it takes place in "Prince Caspian". This is my first attempt at something that occurs outside of "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe". As much as I love and adore the first movie, I have to admit the second one's pretty awesome, too. I remember the first time I watched it (I never got the chance to see it in theaters, but my sister and my brother-in-law were nice enough to share the DVD with me), I was glued to the spot the whole time. Nothing could tear me away from the TV. Whenever someone spoke to me, I'd be all, "Er, yeah…whatever." Then, later (just the other day, in fact), when I got the chance, I purchased a DVD of my very own.

I'm surprised at some of the negativity that's aimed at Peter in the second movie. If you're one of those haters, then clearly you don't understand Peter as well as you think you do. I'll admit, I myself wasn't too crazy about his attitude in the beginning. But when you really think about it, would you have acted any differently if you were in his shoes? All of us slip up at one point or another. Nobody is perfect. And pride has a way of bringing even the most honorable people down.

Hopefully, this little snippet will help you see Peter in a somewhat better light.

Characters © C.S. Lewis and Disney/Walden Media

Story © unicorn-skydancer08

All rights reserved.

"Then from heaven, your dwelling place, hear their prayer and their pleas, and uphold their cause. And forgive your people, who have sinned against you."

~ 2 Chronicles 6:39 (NIV)

PART 3: PETER

A deathly, tomblike silence filled the empty cavern of the How—empty except for Peter, the broken slabs of what used to be the Stone Table, the shattered bits of ice that littered the floor like crushed glass, and the imposing image of the Great Lion cut into the stone wall, which lay only a yard or so ahead of Peter. Like a statue, a lifeless chassis molded from stone or ice, Peter could only stand where he was, unable to move or speak. His entire body seemed to have seized up; his tongue remained a useless blob in his mouth. But though the young former king could not move physically, his mind and heart were a raging torrent, a relentless flood of sick emotions and bitter memories.

Here, alone in this cold, forlorn place, everything Peter had ever done and said came rushing back to him all at once, like water surging through a break in a dam. In sharp, lurid detail, he could see all of his sins, every mistake and wrongdoing he had committed, including those from just a few minutes ago. In his mind's eye, he could see Jadis's ghostly face, beautiful yet deadly. His ears could still hear her voice, which was like honey and poison.

He sickened to think about how alarmingly close he'd come to reviving her, to restoring Narnia's oldest and deadliest foe to living flesh, to bringing doom upon them all. He should have known better than to assume that it just might be worth it to unleash one evil in order to triumph over another evil. Had these past years as king, these years of fighting and chasing off evil, counted for nothing? Had he not learned anything from such experiences?

He knew full well what Jadis had been like in her previous life, the horrific things she was capable of.

Yet he was just about ready to set her free—one drop of Adam's blood, she had said; that was all that was required to complete her reincarnation. Peter went to her, lured by her hypnotic eyes, drunk upon the nectar of her sweet, venomous voice.

He had stretched forth his blood-covered hand to hers…and who knew what would have happened next, had Edmund not been gallant enough and smart enough to step in and shatter the wall of ice that encased Jadis's spirit? With a piercing scream that made the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stand on end and chilled his blood, Jadis was destroyed in an instant. As irony would have it, her destruction was brought about by the one boy who had once sided with her.

Peter recalled staring into Edmund's grave face, shaken by Jadis's charm over him and the awareness of what he'd very nearly done; and all Edmund said to his brother was, "I know. You had it sorted."

Though he'd spoken the words quietly, with little emotion, they ran through Peter's heart like a white-hot sword.

Now Peter stood alone, facing the figure in the fire-illumined wall ahead that seemed to stare right back at him. Notwithstanding it was a simple sculpture, the carefully crafted eyes seemed to ask Peter: "What have you done?"

That was the same question that swirled continually through Peter's head, weighing more and more heavily on his heart.

What have I done?

As if almost setting Jadis free from her otherworldly prison was not terrible enough, Peter had just led a whole band of Narnians, innocent people whose sole purpose was to defend what they believed in and reclaim what was rightfully theirs, to their destruction. He brought his loyal subjects into a battle that he believed could be won easily. But the odds proved to be against them; though many of the Narnians escaped with their lives, many others were left behind to perish.

Peter would never forget the urgent and desperate cries of his men, mingled with the grossly triumphant howls of their enemies. Now half of Peter's army was lost, and their blood was solely on the boy's hands.

Above all else, Peter had willfully denied Aslan, his lord and redeemer, the one true King of Narnia.

All this time, up until now, he never gave the Great Lion so much as a second thought. When Lucy told them all earlier that she'd just seen the Lion himself with her own eyes, Peter had all but brushed his poor sister off. Even when he was about to lead his troops on that fateful foray, when Lucy had pleaded with him to wait until Aslan came to help them, for without Aslan they were surely done for, Peter replied coolly, "I think we've waited for Aslan long enough."

Now, too late, Peter understood that he was nothing without Aslan…literally nothing.

Shame and guilt such as he had never felt or would have believed possible flooded him, spreading through every part of his body like acid. What had happened to him? Somehow, he'd allowed himself to be swallowed up in his own pride.

All this time, he had been thinking of no one but himself. If only he hadn't been so headstrong, so obstinate—if he had only listened—then things might not have gotten this far and he wouldn't be in this mess.

But that was just the trouble with him.

For a time, Peter used to believe Aslan had deserted him, but now he saw that he was the one who'd deserted Aslan.

Without even realizing it, hot tears began to slip down Peter's cheeks, cutting through the grime that encrusted his face, falling all the way to the stone floor at his boots.

High King Peter, the Magnificent—that was a laugh!

He was no king. He was not even a human being. Even worms and slugs and other detestable parasites were above him. How could he have been so blind, so pathetically dimwitted as to turn his back on Aslan, to not believe even his own sister's witness? If Lucy could not see Aslan, who could? How could Peter have ever believed, even for one minute, that he could somehow make it through his own strength, the cleverness of his own brain?

Yet the damage was already done, and now others had to suffer the consequences of Peter's stupidity and irresponsibility.

The spell of paralysis broke, and Peter fell to his knees on the spot, barely noticing the painful impact of the stone. His tears began falling thicker and faster. His whole body was shaking, like a leaf caught in the heart of a storm.

Finally, in the sheer agony of his soul, the young king wailed to the heavens, "Oh, Aslan, where are you?"

Then something within him broke, and he plunged his tormented face into his hands and burst into an agony of tears.

Not very long after that, Peter found himself kneeling at the feet of none other than Aslan himself. The Lion was as majestic and magnificent as Peter remembered him, and he looked down at Peter with such unbelievable kindness.

Yet Peter knew he was disappointed as well.

Peter knew of Aslan's mercy, his willingness to forgive…but was it too late for him? He had been deliberately rebellious. He had been Aslan's own disciple. He knew, he followed, he believed, and he still sinned against the Lion.

So many emotions were churning inside Peter at the same time; he was torn so many ways, he was almost delirious. He wanted to weep, he wanted to scream, he wanted to run away like a coward and hide. He wanted to have the mountains fall upon him. He wanted to drown himself in the depths of the Emerald River that flowed just behind him. He wanted to embrace Aslan, to kiss him and say a thousand things to him.

But all he could bring himself to say was a very faint, tremulous, grief-stricken, "Aslan."

Then, unable to bear it any longer, Peter buried his face in his hands and wept bitterly.

Aslan remained still and listened to Peter's agonized sobs for a time, before he finally moved closer to him and wrapped his paw around the boy. "There, there, my son," he said, in the rich, golden voice that Peter had come to know so well.

There was not a hint of anger or aversion in the King's tone, only gentleness—and a bit of sadness.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispered brokenly, with his face still hidden. "I'm so sorry. Forgive me, Aslan."

Over and over, he kept pleading, "Forgive me…forgive me."

"Peace, my son," Aslan spoke at length, cutting Peter off. "Be still. All is forgiven. I accept your repentance, and I welcome you home."

Hearing this, Peter slowly lifted his dripping face, struggling to see Aslan through the tangled blonde locks that spilled over his sky-blue eyes and the thick tears that obscured his sight.

"H-how can you, Aslan?" he barely managed to choke out. "H-how can you still love me? After all that I've done, how can you still have anything to do with me?"

"Because you are mine," said Aslan, moving his paw around to touch Peter's wet, feverish cheek. "Because you are my child, my brother…my very dearest friend. And I do love you, truly."

"I have betrayed you, Aslan," said Peter weakly, feeling his eyes well up afresh. "I have sinned against you."

"Yes, you have," Aslan concurred. "But the cup has been drunk. The price has been paid. You have strayed in darkness, but you have found the light again."

He leaned down and tenderly kissed Peter's tears. "Now, be at peace," he whispered sweetly into the boy's ear, "and sin no more. Always remember that I am here for you, dear one, if you but have the faith to seek me out."

Peace began to glisten in Peter's eyes.

The tears that continued to slide down his cheeks were no longer tears of grief nor penitence, but tears of pure joy and pure love.

"Oh, Aslan," he wept, and he practically collapsed forward, Aslan's solid, powerful chest saving him from ending up flat on the ground.

Hugging the Lion fiercely round the neck, Peter closed his eyes and immersed his face fully in the warm, wonderful sea of gold, crying his savior's name again and again in thankful sobs.