A/N: Umm, I changed this chapter. A lot. It's worth a re-read so...re-read it. Thankies! ^^
Black And Blue
AllzStar
When Jaxx is accidentally whisked away to Narnia with the Pevensies, she gets more bruises on her body than usual. But those aren't the only things that are black and blue. Jaxx's black eyes might be the only match for Peter's cool blue stare. PeterXOC
I had to do a fair bit of sprinting to keep up with the Pevensies as they tore across the rocky beach. I got to where they were all standing just as Susan was mounting an arrow in her bow.
"Drop him!" she cried.
Only then did I see what all the commotion was about. At sea there was a boat, and in the boat two men clad in armour. They were carrying a writhing bundle. When they looked up and saw us, they hastily tossed the bundle into the water.
Susan sent the arrow flying as Peter and Edmund took off towards the water. The arrow struck home in one of the men's shoulder and he fell back into the water. The other, frightened, joined him willingly.
Peter dove into the water towards where the bundle had fallen in while Edmund swam towards the boat.
A minute passed, and then Peter's head appeared at the surface, along with someone else's wet head. He swam towards shore, dragging the other person along with him. Edmund followed him, towing the boat along.
I'm not sure why, but I had a sudden impulse to help him. I stepped into the water (which wasn't nearly as cold as I expected it to be), lifting my skirts so they wouldn't get wet, and waded out to Edmund. I offered him my hand and helped him maintain his balance as he pushed through the crystal clear water, the boat slicing through the waves behind us.
Edmund and I beached the boat before heading over to Peter, who was in the midst of placing the bundle down as gently as he could. As I approached I saw that it was a little man, not even as tall as Lucy. He was bound at the wrists and ankles, and there was a tie around his mouth.
The little man (dwarf, I decided) coughed up some water as I hastily untied the ropes round his feet. Lucy pulled out her dagger and cut his hands loose.
The dwarf stood up, tossing the rag from his mouth aside. "'Drop him'?" he shreiked, his voice dripping with attitude. "Is that the best you can come up with?"
"A simple 'Thank you' would suffice," Susan snapped.
"They were doin' fine drownin' me without your help," he said hotly.
"Maybe we should have let them," growled Peter.
I glared at the dwarf. "You'd be at the bottom of the ocean if Susan hadn't shot them and Peter hadn't swam out to save you," I pointed out fiercely.
"Why were they trying to kill you anyway?" Lucy asked.
"They're Telmarines. It's what they do."
Edmund's eyes went wide. "Telmarines? In Narnia?"
Trumpkin looked at the boy disdainfully. "Where have you been for the last few hundred years?"
The siblings all looked at each-other. Lucy spoke first. "It's a bit of a long story."
Susan passed Peter his sheathed sword (he'd given it to her before entering the water). A look of comprehension suddenly dawned on Trumpkin. He gaped as the siblings stood side-by-side, as they had in Cair Paravel. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. You're it? You're the Kings and Queens of Old?"
"High King Peter. The Magnificent," said Peter, holding out his hand.
Susan glared at her brother. "You probably could have left off that last bit."
Trumpkin chuckled. "Probably."
Peter took his hand back, obviously embarrassed. "You might be surprised." He pulled out his sword.
"Oh, you don't want to do that, boy."
"Not me," replied Peter. "Him." He looked at Edmund, who blinked, then drew his own sword. Peter offered the dwarf his own.
The dwarf hesitantly took it, but he could barely hold it up. After a moment of tension, he swiftly attacked Edmund, who easily countered the attack. The dwarf belted the boy in the nose, and he stumbled.
"Edmund!" Lucy cried.
"Oh, are you alright?" the dwarf taunted.
Ed quickly recovered and swung around the little man, kicking him in the side as he went. The dwarf grunted, then attacked Edmund again. They went at it for some time before Edmund had finally had enough and parried. Peter's sword went flying from the dwarf's hands as he fell back onto the sand.
"Beards and breadsticks!" the dwarf gasped, blinking up at all of us. "Maybe that horn worked after all."
"What horn?" Susan asked.
I noticed Lucy turn away from us and watched her out of the corner of my eye. She wandered father down the beach towards a large black bear.
"Hello there!" she called in her friendly way.
I tapped Peter's shoulder and gestured to her.
The bear looked up and growled.
"It's okay; we're friends." Lucy was getting closer and closer to the huge animal.
Peter stiffened. Trumpkin began to coax Lucy back. "Uh, Miss? I don't think that's such a good idea."
Lucy ignored him and kept walking towards the bear. "Lucy," I cried, "it's going to—!" I was too late. The bear reared up and roared, then charged towards Lucy.
Susan took out her bow and prepared an arrow.
"Shoot, Susan!" I cried, but she hesitated.
"Stop!" Lucy screamed as she turned and ran. "Stop, please!"
A cry wrenched itself free from my mouth. I reached over and pulled Peter's sword from its scabbard and ran towards Lucy. She had fallen down and the bear was quickly approaching her.
I threw myself in front of her just as the bear lunged. A massive paw swiped out and I screamed as it collided with my face.
My back hit the pebbles as blood ran like tears down my cheeks. I moaned and pressed my hand to my face. When I pulled it away bright red blood was smeared all over my fingers. I fought back the nausea.
The pain was extreme, but I still managed to thrust Peter's sword forward into the bear's fleshy abdomen. It groaned and reared, and in its last few moments it reached for Lucy's chest.
I grabbed the small girl's shoulder and yanked her out of the reach of the monster's paw. She cried out in pain as her arm slid over the rocks.
The bear fell into a massive, hairy heap, lifeless and quite still.
I gaped at the dead mass of fur, still grasping the fact that it had been I that had killed it. Then a sudden lance of pain reminded me that my face had been clawed half apart.
"Jaxx!" someone screamed.
"Lucy!" screamed someone else.
Suddenly there were people all around me, shaking my shoulder, touching my face, talking to me. I blinked up at them, unable to grasp what they were saying. Their faces were blurry at first, and then they began to take shape.
I saw Susan's worried face, Edmund's lips mouthing my name, and Peter's piercing blue eyes filled with some emotion I couldn't decipher.
"Jaxx, oh, Jaxx, please stay with us," Susan was saying. She was wiping the blood off of my face with a piece of cloth. She turned to speak to Peter. "The wound isn't too bad. I think she's a little stunned right now, though."
"Jaxx." This was Peter's voice. The way he said my name was interesting. He pronounced it more like "Jacks". I like the way it hissed off his tongue. "Jaxx. Can you hear me."
I tried to force my voice to function. "Yes," I managed.
Susan pressed the cloth to a spot just above my eyebrow and I winced. She jumped.
"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I'm trying not to hurt you!"
"I'm alright," I whispered. "Just a little disoriented."
I let them help me sit up. Getting a little bit of feeling back into my soul I took the cloth from Susan (it turned out to be Peter's handkerchief) and wiped off the remaining blood myself. The gashes were still bleeding casually, but Lucy gave me a small drop from her cordial and the wounds healed instantly. I touched my face, dazzled by the incredible power one drop of that potion contained.
In a few minutes Lucy and I were on our feet again. Lucy clung to Peter, a few tears rolling down her round cheeks still.
I walked over to the bear and pulled Peter's sword from its belly.
"I'm sorry about that," I said as I handed it to him.
Peter took it and looked at me for a moment before letting a small smile break across his face. "Perhaps we should get you your own sword." There wasn't much humour to this statement, but I appreciated his forced grin.
I returned it. "That would suffice."
Again, we found ourselves staring at each-other. It was only Lucy's voice that broke our gaze. "Why didn't he stop?"
Trumpkin, who had been silently observing the bear's body, answered without turning to look at us. "I suspect he was hungry."
Lucy looked up at Peter, then at me. "Thank you for saving me."
I smiled weakly.
Edmund joined Trumpkin at the carcass. "He was wild."
"I don't think he could talk at all," said Peter.
Trumpkin finally looked round at us. "You get treated like a dumb animal long enough, that's what you become. You may find Narnia a more savage place than you remember." He paused to watch the five of us exchange worried glances. "Now. We must seek out the one who summoned you to Narnia in the first place."
"We were summoned?" asked Edmund.
"Yes," replied the dwarf. "By a certain Prince Caspian."
Peter's brow furrowed. "Prince Caspian? Who's he?"
"Miraz's nephew."
All five of us exchanged bewildered looks.
"Why would Miraz's nephew summon us?" I asked. "Aren't they the enemy?"
"Evidently, the throne rightfully belongs to Caspian. His father, Caspian the ninth, was the King before Miraz killed him. We must help Caspian win back the throne before Miraz destroys everything that's left."
"And where is this Prince Caspian?" Peter asked.
"He said to meet him at Aslan's How," replied Trumpkin matter-of-factly.
A light suddenly flared up in Peter's eyes. "I know where that is."
"Well, then. Good for you. I'm still in charge here."
Peter stopped the dwarf from walking away. "I don't think so. I can get us to the How."
Trumpkin glared at Peter.
"Peter," I said. "You haven't been here for awhile. Maybe it's better to let Trumpkin lead the way."
"I can get us there."
"Alright," said Trumpkin. "Fine. As you wish, your Majesty."
Peter nodded and led us to the boat. We were in a little cove now; there were vast stone walls all around us save for a lake-sized pool of ocean water in the middle.
We all stood around, watching him. "Well, come on!" he cried.
We all hurried after him.
*
Two hours later, the Pevensies, Trumpkin and I were piled in the wide but short canoe and drifting slowly down river. Peter, who was steering and propelling the boat at the stern, had pushed the boat into a little ravine. He acted as if he knew exactly where he was going. At least we all hoped so.
The first half hour of the boat ride I had spent gaping at the scenery. There were vast rock walls on either side of us, and little plants and trees grew right out of the stone. The water was as clear and turquoise as the ocean water; I could see all the way to the bottom even though it was roughly ten feet deep. I occasionally caught a glimpse of a turtle or a silver fish. The tops of the rock walls were covered with vegetation that hung down into the canyon like a canopy. It was even more beautiful than the view from Cair Paravel.
The next hour was spent trying to make myself look presentable again. Susan and I had tried in vain to get the blood stains out of the collar of my dress. I had shaken out my hair to get the grains of sand and small twigs out and had absently combed my fingers through it to somewhat tame the wild, straggly curls. I had washed my face numerous times to clear the crusty blood and dirt and grit that were caked on. But I knew I still looked a mess.
Whenever Peter looked at me I felt like a hideous beast. I didn't want him to see me all bloody and gross. Maybe if I were bloody and sweaty and had dirt streaked attractively across my cheeks and forehead and had my face nicely screwed up in a battle cry and was fighting for my life in some epic war it would have been better, but that wasn't the case. I'd had the daylights knocked out of me by some bear instead. I felt pathetic and small, and nowhere near what he deserved.
Then I spend the last half hour wondering why I even cared what Peter thought of me and why it should matter whether or not I was something he deserved. I immediately pushed aside the thought that I might like him deep down in my soul. I couldn't love him. I'd seen his eyes; they were too cold, there was no love there, except perhaps for his siblings.
Peter wasn't innocent.
He wasn't very kind.
Whenever he said something it was cool, haughty or sarcastic.
He wasn't the kind of boy that usually caught my eye.
But there was still something about him that sparked my casual interest. I couldn't name it. Perhaps it was in fact his cold eyes or his soulless speech or his lost innocence. Maybe it was his bitterness that drew my attention to him.
But my attraction to him was not romantic at all.
It couldn't be.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get Peter to meet my eyes again.
The two moments we had shared, when we had just stared each-other down and searched deep within each-other's souls, had become my latest addiction. I longed to feel that brief moment of vulnerability. I wanted Peter to see everything that was inside me so that maybe he could help me figure out what it was that was driving me to look at him every two minutes.
Those dangerous moments when I let my guard down completely had been two of the most honest and frightening moments in my life.
And I had loved every second they had lasted.
Suddenly it happened. Before I could hide my ugly face, his eyes had me caught in a trance again. Many thoughts crossed my mind, but none mattered more than Peter's beautiful eyes. Then a feeling—a hot, burning and desperate emotion I'd never felt before—hit me like a slap in the face. I stifled a gasp of surprise.
It didn't matter that we were on opposite ends of the boat and the other three Pevensie children were in between us.
It didn't matter that he was no longer innocent.
It didn't matter that he was the High King of Narnia and I was a mistake.
It didn't matter that we really had nothing in common.
None of these things mattered.
We were together.
We had this awesome connection.
I still didn't know how he felt, but I knew how I did.
I was in love with him.
