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Chapter 3 I Had a Heart
- x -
Peter
- x -
I don't know what I was thinking.
"It'll be good for you, Peter," she said.
"You haven't been out with a girl in ages," she said.
And you bloody wonder why!
I burst through the gymnasium doors, striding into the crisp night, sweet, chilled air engulfing my nostrils and swelling my lungs. With my eyes closed I can even pretend it's Narnia in autumn, the dryads all turning orange and yellow as the leaves fall, the smell of the air turning earthy. Evi would be telling us all not to get her birthday gifts but we always did.
I fall onto the bench with a sigh as I think about her for the hundredth time that night.
The girl I came to the ball with is everything Evi is not. From the moment I picked the poor girl up she had no chance, I was already comparing her to Evi.
God, I'm such a bloody idiot.
My head falls into my hands as I fight the threat of tears.
This was a mistake. I should never have listened to Susan. She had said it was time for me to move on, that there were plenty of other girls out there who fancied me. For a while she had me convinced. I actually believed I could escort another girl to the ball.
But I couldn't.
The girl had tried coming onto me while we were dancing and I flipped. I yelled at her, calling her names, and telling her to find another way home. My God I acted positively ghastly.
I'll have to go and apologize to the poor girl.
I bring my face from my hands, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger.
"Oi! Pevensie!"
At the sound of the angry voice I look up, spotting the fuming brother of the girl I insulted.
"Who the devil do you think you are?" he pushes me back as I'm rising to my feet, "My sister is bawling her eyes out in the loo saying you called her a whore!"
I stumble back, trying to keep my cool as I feel the heat rise to my cheeks.
"It was just a misunderstanding," I say with my jaw clenched.
"Right misunderstanding it must've been! What's the matter with you, Pevensie? Can't handle a little touch every now and then?" he prods, giving me another shove.
Right, because he knows what a real feminine touch is.
"That's none of your business," I retort, turning to walk away.
"Oh right, I forgot. You've got that little mink tucked away at home, the one you always fantasize about. What was her name again? Evelyn?"
"What did you say?" I round on him, my muscles tight with rage.
How dare he mention her name.
"Alls I said was you've got a whore of your own at home so you had to go and put down my sister," the arse smirks at me, knowing he struck a nerve.
"Take it back!" I snarl, advancing on him.
"Oh a tough guy now, are we?" he laughs even when I shove him back, "Go on then. Let's see what you've got."
His taunting demeanor quickly melts away as he swings a beefy fist at me. I duck under his punch, tackling him into the chain-link fence and throwing my fist in his face. His fingers curl around the fabric of my jacket and pull, my jacket ripping with a sharp hiss as he wrestles me to the ground. We're fairly evenly matched in height and weight but I'm able to best him, throwing him from my body and against the stone wall of the school in a heap. Spitting the taste of blood from my mouth I pull him from the ground and ram him against the wall.
"Now will you take it back!"
"Ok, ok! I'm sorry!" he defensively puts his hands up.
"That's right you're sorry, you pathetic arse!" I throw him through the doors of the gymnasium.
Pressing my fingers to my lip, I wince at the sharp pain and look down to see my fingers coated with blood. I pull off my tattered jacket and un-tuck the rest of my shirt. I would probably be getting another detention...maybe even a suspension.
But I hardly care.
I'm angry.
I'm a king not a boy.
I am a king!
A knight!
A man!
A lover, damn it all!
All stuck in a child's body.
I am no child! I'm awfully tired of being told what time to go to bed, being told to finish my dinner, being told to do my homework, clean the house, watch my siblings. I'm all bloody tired of it.
I grew old in Narnia, into one of the most revered Kings in Narnian history. I was respected and loved by everyone, friend and foe. I've been through more than most people could even imagine in their wildest dreams.
Battles, love, death, triumph!
That was my childhood. Not this...this strange place. Finchley is no home to me. My heart is in Narnia. It will always be in Narnia...with her.
Evelyn.
It always circles back to her.
Evi was the best of Narnia...and then she was the worst... She made me believe that she loved me...all to turn around and run to Finnick. For all I know she had been with Finnick the entire time, just stringing me along for the fun of it.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes but I have no intention of brushing them away. The hurt she caused me runs so deep, I sometimes wonder if I could forgive her if I ever saw her again...
"Evi," I say her name, feeling the tears stream down my face. Small, feeble sobs reach my ears and when I realise that it's me that's making them, I only break down more.
How badly I want things to just go back to the way they were...when I believed she loved me and I loved her...when we were at peace in Narnia...When we laughed and played tricks on Finnick and Ed, fought side by side in battle, when she'd be my private counsel, listening to whatever problem—however small—I may have had. And then those times...after a long fought battle...we would steal away into the woods during the celebrations away from prying eyes and ears and lay together under the stars in each other's arms...
But that was before I knew what was going on. I'll never forget the nauseating pit I felt in my stomach when she rejected me and told me the truth...the very same feeling that's tormenting me now that's making me choke over my pathetic sobs.
This is what she's done to me.
It's because of her I'm spiraling out of control, so angry and so rotten to my friends and family.
But at the same time...all I want to do is get back to Narnia...
...Get back to her.
- x -
Evi
- x -
Susan is the only Pevensie listed in Finchley living in a small house on Station Road just outside Finchley Central. Lucky for me otherwise I don't think I'd be able to navigate around Greater London.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I hear Finnick say behind me as I look up at the little cottage.
"It's just Susan," I tell him, not really quelling the nerves dancing in my stomach.
I can only hope she has forgotten the bitterness between us.
Finnick sighs joining me at my side as a rumble of thunder passes overhead in the dreary overcast sky. He holds out his hand for me to go on up to the porch. With a deep breath, I rap a few times on the door, muffled sounds echoing from the other side and I think my heart stops beating as my breath catches in my chest. The door swings open to reveal a girl probably around my age. She's wearing scrubs and her name tag reads Hannah, Assisting Caregiver.
"Who are you?" she frowns at Finnick and me.
"Hello, does Susan Pevensie live here?" I unsurely ask, praying my Narnian accent doesn't sound too Americanized.
"If you're looking to sell something, she's not interested," the girl makes to close the door but Finnick stops her.
"Wait! We're not here to sell you anything. We're Susan's niece and nephew," he easily lies, the girl stopping and curiously looking at us.
"I wasn't aware Miss Susan had any other relatives," her words puzzle me.
"I assure you, she did. I'm Evelyn and this is Nick. Is Susan home?" I ask.
"She's just sat down for tea. Come in," the girl's wary gaze softens and ushers us inside.
The foyer is strangely bare and it unsettles me.
"She's upstairs, first door on the left," she points.
We start to walk up the steps when she stops us, "I ought to warn you, she can be a bit barmy at times. She's not all there."
Finnick looks at me to gauge my reaction.
"No worries. I'm used to that sort of thing," I stoically say.
After dealing with Granddad I'm sure Susan can't be much worse...
Finnick gently pulls me the rest of the way up the steps and we stop just outside the room.
"Are you ready?" he softly asks.
"No," I breath, walking into the room anyway.
If the foyer was utterly bare, than this room is positively cluttered. Every possible inch of wall is covered in childhood pictures of the Pevensies and their old home. Peter riding a training bike, Lucy's first birthday, Edmund on his first day of school, the boys covered head to toe in mud, Peter dancing with Susan. They all vary from when they were very young to after they came back from Narnia, each one tugging at my heart harder and harder as I try to control the emotion swelling in my chest. A handsome portrait of Peter catches my eye. He's about twenty-two, perhaps? His hair is quite long in the photo but that's not what catches me. It's the way he's looking into the camera.
He's sad.
Bitter even.
I can see it so clearly in his eyes.
What happened to you, Peter?
"Who's there?"
Susan's voice tears my attention away from the portrait and I suddenly remember that I'm not alone. Risking a glance at Finnick, I see he's been watching me the entire time and I can't discern the look on his face.
"Susan," I softly say, trying to ignore Finnick's eyes as I round to the other side of her wheelchair.
She's terribly frail, tiny trembles shaking her hands as she lifts her cup to her lips, skin wrinkled everywhere I look, and her hair is wiry and gray, pulled tightly back into a bun. But under all that, I can see Susan, the Susan I remember.
She sips her tea, eyes never leaving me until she has to look to set the cup back down.
What she says next makes me nauseous.
"Who are you?"
- x -
Peter
- x -
Eight months.
Eight bleeding months since we've returned from Narnia.
I deliver a swift kick to the small stone in my path as I saunter home from a late day at the Hendon House from serving another detention. Surprisingly enough this one wasn't for fighting...no, I've given up the violence for now.
It requires too much effort.
I suppose this is the next stage of my phase—as my mother calls it.
Apathy.
I don't care about things anymore. Not my homework, the war, my chores, my teachers, my appearance—I'll admit, my hair has gotten quite unruly as I haven't had a hair cut in some time.
The only thing I care about these days is my family and even with them my patience is wearing thin...
Edmund is an annoying little blighter, finding amusement in my "fall from grace" as he gets all the "privileges" I once enjoyed. Susan is much, much worse, adjusting extremely well to life back in England. It's frustrating how she just fits right in as if nothing ever happened in Narnia. It's almost an insult to everyone we ever knew. Then she'll go off about how I should do the same...just forget about Narnia.
Forget about Mr. Tumnus, Aslan, the Beavers, Oreius...Evi...
And then there's Mum. Mum is by far the worst of the lot of them but I won't get into the beastly details. When I'm at home I just humor her, do what she says and she'll leave me alone. I only wish the professors at the Hendon House would follow her lead...all I want is to be left alone.
Just until Aslan calls us back...
The thought of going back brings me to a stop and I simply stand on the sidewalk, letting the chilled winter breeze sail through my hair. I adjust the rucksack on my shoulder and let my head fall back and my eyes close. The icy wind engulfs my nostrils and burns a path down my chest.
It's a quiet evening.
No cars in the streets.
No planes in the sky.
No children out on the playground to my right.
Just the wind.
I'm unable to resist the allure of the night and I turn off to the swings, delaying my return home for just a bit longer. Digging my heel into the frozen ground and I gently sway myself, the slightly rusted chains of the swing creaking with the small motion.
I don't know where it comes from...or even why...but a sudden peace overcomes me...but it's not just any kind of peace...it is almost like...Aslan. It feels like he's around, like he's just out of eyeshot or something. Almost confirming my thought, another gust of wind kicks up my hair from out of my eyes and I swear I can almost hear the roar of a lion...
"Please," I hear myself whispering and the wind thrashes about, bringing me to my feet.
"Please," I say again, louder this time as I rise to my feet, "Send me back."
More fiercely now the wind blows and I stagger in its wake.
"Send me back!" I shout to the sky, "I must go back! I don't belong here! Can't you see that?"
I'm knocked to my knees from the unyielding gale and I grow even more frustrated.
Why won't he listen to me?
Can't he see that I'm in misery here?
"Am I not to return?" I try to clamber back to my feet but am forced once more to the ground and I can't help the tears of frustration that well in my eyes. One last time I try to stand up to the lion, a pathetic attempt as it is, and I am driven back into the snow, my warm tears melting it away as I just lie there amidst the hellish wind.
"Fine!" I cry openly into the wind, pushing myself to my knees, "Have it your way! Just...just promise me she isn't as miserable! Promise me she's happy. As long as I know she's happy, I don't care if I ever go back."
The wind immediately ceases.
- x -
Micah
- x -
My name is Simon Beckett. In Narnia I had a wife named Annaliese and a daughter named Evelyn.
But for the life of me, I cannot picture their faces.
The Boreade tells me Annaliese was killed by someone of the name of Jadis. Stranger still, he tells me this Jadis killed me. He believes Aslan has sent me from His Country to help restore order in this world.
He says that Narnia doesn't exist anymore.
This thought sends my head reeling and I can find no peace in sleep. There's too much I still don't understand...Who is the man who took over this world? Who is Jadis and why did she murder my family? Where is my daughter?
The Boreade said that she was missing but didn't elaborate any further.
How could she be missing? Where could she even be?
He said that she's the key to revolution and without her they have no hope of stopping the sorcerer.
It all seems eerily familiar, like I've been in this situation before or heard this from someone before, but—like everything else from my past—I can't be sure of it.
A gentle knock at my door brings me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I say, surprised when the Boreade is the one who strides into my room.
"I hope I did not wake you, Lord Beckett," he bows.
"Not at all," I shake my head, gesturing to the chair at my desk, "Please, sit down."
"Thank you," he graciously nods, sighing as he takes a seat, "I reckon you're wondering why I have sought you at such a late hour."
"After everything that has happened today I just sort of go with it," I run my fingers through my blonde hair.
"I understand. I cannot tell you everything at the moment, for I still do not understand it all myself. But I wanted to give you the opportunity to ask me anything that is on your mind," he sighs again.
I didn't even have to think about the question, it just came out, "What happened to my family?"
The Boreade's face twists into one of sadness.
"From what I understand, many centuries ago Jadis was quickly gaining power in Narnia. Anneliese, your wife, was the youngest princess of the King. For these reasons, Jadis killed her. She was also hunting for your daughter, as for why, I am not sure. I believe that you may know the answer for it is you who sent her to Earth to live with Maxwell Beckett."
"Evelyn is here?" I hopefully ask.
"I'm afraid I do not know. She could be here or in Narnia or she could be here but in a different time all together."
"What do you mean? I thought you said Narnia doesn't exist?" I frown.
"Not here in this time it doesn't. But it does in the past. That's where I met her," he reveals.
"You knew my daughter?"
"I did," he nods, "She was a fiery little thing. Incredibly passionate about her duty. She was General of Narnia even."
My daughter, a warrior? That is not how I would have raised her. She would've been a lady of the court...a princess.
"Did she have a family of her own?" I quietly ask, wondering if she ever got the life I wanted her to have.
"Sadly no. But she did love and she loved him fiercely. It was forbidden, you see, since she was a member of The Order of the Lion. So she never told him that she loved him."
"Who is it you speak of?" I wonder.
"The High King of the Golden Age," he answers.
High King?
Aslan must have put great faith in that man to name him High King.
And my Evelyn was in love with him.
"Did he love her?"
"More than anything," he solemnly replies.
"But she couldn't be a part of the Order. By blood she's a princess and royalty cannot be bound to the Order and it's code," I frown, wondering how she could possibly have been tricked in such a way.
"I fear, My Lord, that it was Jadis' doing."