NARNIA- Frost Giant Fears

Lucy padded down the vaulted hall, her feet slippered against the cool tile, soundless through the long walk, even though the hallway always echoed with even the slightest noise. She had her slippers to thank for her silence, she knew. They were the softest pair of footwear Lucy had ever owned, made from Narnian silk, which was somehow leaps and bounds beyond the silkiness of the old slippers she'd left behind in the Professor's house. And they were ballet pink, which was Lucy's favorite color at the time.

But now was not the time to admire her beautiful slippers. She'd wrapped herself in a flowing dressing gown and snatched the candle nightlight from her bedside table because she'd heard something tap on her bedroom window. And one of the servants had been telling a tale last night about the giants to the north, and she knew that diplomacy was not going well in that regard, and it was quite cold tonight, and suddenly Lucy had worked herself into such a fright that her breath quaked, and her hands shook while holding the candlestick. So she was timidly fleeing to Peter's room, because he always knew what to do in these kinds of situations.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she traversed the dark hall. Somehow the soundlessness made it more eerie, Lucy thought. Even with the candle in hand, the shadows loomed darker and made her catch her breath as they followed the moving light. Besides, she could never quite relax when the suits of armor stood guard against the wall. They resembled so much of a person, that once when Lucy turned a corner, she gasped aloud and threw a hand before her to block its advance. Even though it was motionless.

Finally, Lucy stood before the tall oak doors of Peter's chambers, staring at the decorative handles. She took a breath and glanced around the dark hall over her shoulder, as if someone was following her through her own castle. Lucy pursed her lips with a frown. Her short brown hair slipped out from behind her ear. Now that she thought of it, she supposed it was silly for her to still run to Peter's room, since she was Queen. She flushed thinking of how Edmund would taunt her if he ever found out. Although, he had been less mean in the four weeks since the Battle of Beruna… Lucy wondered if perhaps Edmund's teasing was in the past now, since Aslan.

Either way, Lucy shook her head, her bob swishing past her chin. She supposed that a queen was fearless, or at least pretended to be, and dignified, like what Mrs. Beaver said Susan was whenever she wore her best gown and crown. Lucy glanced down at her rumpled robe and nightgown. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, pushing it behind her ear again. She didn't look very dignified right now.

Suddenly a gust of wind whistled against the hall's windows, and again Lucy heard a tapping on the glass pane. She whirled around with a gasp, her eyes wide, her heart racing again. Before she could think much else of a queen's dignity or Edmund's teasing, Lucy flipped around to Peter's door, wrenched the handles, and slipped inside.

"Peter?" Lucy whispered, her voice shaking in the dark, her back pressed up against his door. When he didn't respond, she padded toward his bed, clutching the candle in both hands now. "Peter?"

Lucy felt tears tickle the corners of her eyes, which only made her feel more silly and ridiculous. It was only the wind. It was only dark. She shouldn't be so frightened. But her voice had risen to a half-whimper in the dark, desperate for her eldest brother to hear and comfort her.

"Peter?"

She reached his bed through the shadows, her free hand grasping at the footboard's post with white knuckles. Something shifted beyond what her squinted eyes could see through the candle's dim glare; the sound of sheets rustling like Peter had rolled over in his sleep. But then Lucy heard him shuffle again, and groan softly, and then he grunted a groggy: "Lu?"

"Peter," Lucy murmured in relief, though the fear lingered, "I can't sleep."

In the dark it sounded like Peter pushed himself up to sitting, rubbing a hand across his weary eyes. "Oh, Lu…" He shuffled around a little more. "Where are you? Come over here."

Lucy drifted down the side of the bed, floating her palm over Peter's cool sheets until she felt sure that she might smack herself into the headboard. And yet, when Peter spoke again, his voice lingered another two feet forward. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

Lucy nearly dove the last pace toward her brother's voice, but she stilled herself halfway through the motion. Like a queen, she thought. Be proper. You're not a baby. Her hand shaking, Lucy set the candle holder down on Peter's bedside table, the tin clattering a bit against the tabletop though she'd tried to set it down as gently as possible.

"No." She said simply, trying to keep the quiver out of her voice. "I never fell asleep."

In the halo of candlelight, Peter's face peered out of the dark, his blue eyes tired but deep with concern, his blonde hair messed from sleep. He perched himself more upright with his elbows. "What's wrong?"

Lucy chewed on her lip, wringing an index finger in her opposing hand. "The frost giants!" She blurted.

"The frost giants?" His face morphed into an expression of pure puzzlement.

Lucy shook out her hands, her gaze flitting about. "They couldn't cross our borders, could they?"

It was most unfortunate timing that right then, as Lucy was getting re-worked up, the wind outside the castle walls whirled into a flurry and hissed through Peter's open window. In a blink, it had smothered the candle's flickering light and pulled the window shut with a bang and Lucy was so startled that she screeched high and shrill and felt that surely there was a frost giant knocking just outside Peter's window. And it took very nearly all of her willpower not to crumple into a heap on Peter's bedroom floor or burst into hysterical tears.

All of this took place in a split second, and yet Peter still had time to swing his legs over the side of his bed, push Lucy behind him, and stand before whatever unknown evil threatened his little sister.

There was another clatter, like icy hands clawing against the glass pane, and Lucy shivered, pressing herself against Peter and clinging to his silky nightshirt. Though his narrowed eyes remained fixed straight ahead, her brother reached behind and pressed his warm palm against the back of Lucy's robe. He had no weapon, but Lucy wondered at how his right hand curled as if he clutched his mighty sword, Rhindon.

Silent and still they stood in the dark, both tense and searching, waiting for another noise, or an attacker or something of the sort. But as Lucy's eyes adjusted to the dark, she realized that no one stood in the room across from them, and the only shadow before the window came from the branches of an old oak tree. Peter breathed a relieved sigh with the same realization, and he patted his sister on the shoulder as he pulled away from her, the hand carrying an invisible sword falling limp to his side.

"It's alright, Lu." He murmured in the dark, "You're safe with me."

Lucy blinked up at her big brother, his warmth having receded from her and the chill returning, his small smile and his blue eyes bright, his words washing over her in a soothing balm, the panic and fear still nibbling at her heart… and to her great embarrassment, she promptly burst into tears.

"Aw, Lucy…" Peter chuckled, which only made her cheeks flush a deeper red, but then Lucy felt his arms encircle her as he bent to tug her close. Lucy let her head plot down onto his shoulder, her hands pinned against his chest.

"I thought…the frost giants—" She blabbered through her tears.

"What frost giants, Lu?" Peter's voice rumbled in his throat, the vibrations thrumming against her ear. She felt his hand rubbing her back. "The giants are all up north in the Wildlands. They aren't anywhere near Narnia."

Lucy took a shuddering breath, then another, in and out, in and out, letting Peter's closeness and warmth soothe her. She wriggled to free her hands and wrapped her arms tight around his neck, so the crook of her elbow hung over his shoulder. She could hear his heart beating steadily, feel his breath hovering over her neck. Yet all the while, she was thinking of how a queen should act. Descriptions like dignified, fearless, gentle, and graceful. She didn't think she was exactly dignified, flinging herself on Peter, nor fearless since she'd screamed at nothing more than the wind. Gentle wasn't how Lucy would describe her grip on her brother's neck, and her tear-induced snorting, and sniffling, and tangled hair, and sobbing certainly wasn't graceful.

"I don't want to be queen." Lucy choked, her throat bobbing with a lump.

Suddenly, Peter pulled away, his hands on her shoulders while he was raised on his knees, holding her before him so they were closer to eye level, despite not seeing him well in the dark.

"What?" He asked, incredulously. Lucy stared at the floor between her pink slippers, biting her lip. Peter bent his head to catch her gaze. "I thought you loved it here."

Lucy snapped her eyes to his. "I do." She said quickly. "But… but I'm not—"

"Not what?"

Frustrated tears spilled over her cheeks. "I'm not queen...ly. I'm not like Susan. I'm not gentle and graceful and dignified and fearless—" Lucy paused with a frown and a twitch of her button nose. She wiped her face with her sleeve. "Well—I suppose Susan isn't quite fearless either is she? Because of the mouse?"

Peter snorted, a grin returning to his face. Lucy bit her lip, restraining a smile. They were both remembering how Susan had been pulling tapestries out of one of Cair Paravel's spare rooms and a mouse (an ordinary mouse, of course, not a Talking Beast) had run across her foot. It was quite the incident. All three of her siblings had come rushing to her aid thinking her injured, and all three were scolded by their sister, after they were informed of the situation, when they fell to the floor in hysterical laughter. Lucy swallowed the lump in her throat.

Peter brushed his hand across Lucy's cheek, clearing away the tears and pushing her brown hair out of her eyes. He grinned. "No, Susan is by no means fearless."

A smile slowly grew on Lucy's face too. "She really did scream, didn't she?"

Peter laughed aloud, snatching Lucy up into another hug, her feet dragging behind her. "Like there were frost giants after her!"

Lucy tensed, completely sobered once again. She knew Peter only meant to tease, but truly, she had let her fears get the better of her. She pulled away from him, standing on her own two feet, gazing out the dark window at the shadowy branches that had caused her so much fear. She sensed Peter's frown but didn't turn back to him. Lucy listened to the gentle tap tap tapping of the branch on the windowpane, the sound not so frightening now that she knew what it was. She was so consumed with her thoughts, she didn't even notice when Peter rose, carried her candle to the fireplace, lit it with the smoldering embers, and placed it back on his nightstand.

"Lu…?" She turned to him, lips pursed. The candle cast a warm glow over his face. "Don't you think— if Aslan expected you to be dignified and graceful and gentle and all that… don't you think he would have told you? Perhaps… perhaps you were never meant to be that kind of queen."

"Not be gentle?" Lucy questioned, her brows bunching together. "But Aslan himself is all that, how could I not—"

"No, no, that's not what I mean." Peter said. He took her hand in his own, covering it with his other. "It's just that… well, Aslan hasn't asked us to be any different than we are. I am not logical like Susan, but I don't think Aslan wants me to be. I am not clever like Emund. I wish I had your faith, Lu. We are each unique. So that we can be kings and queens together."

Lucy stared into her brother's blue eyes in the flickering candlelight, seeing his sincerity. But her own expression remained troubled. Peter leaned toward her, bending at the waist.

"Maybe," he whispered, "you were only ever supposed to be Lucy the Valiant. Brave in the face of fear."

Lucy exhaled, staring into his gaze, her chin tilting ever so slightly. "I wish I was braver."

Peter knelt before her, his smile resolute, his eyes set in unswerving certainty. "You will be."

One corner of Lucy's mouth twitched, like she was trying to decide if she wanted to smile or frown, but her expression settled into a shy concern. She shifted from foot to foot, wringing her hands again. "Is it alright that I'm not yet?"

He nodded softly. Lucy's eyes lightened.

"Then can I sleep with you?"

Peter laughed again. "Just for tonight, Lu the Valiant, to escape the trembling tree branches."

Lucy shot him a look, her nose wrinkling up mockingly as he pulled back the covers of his bed. He chuckled. Lucy hopped up onto the mattress, tossing her robe aside and sliding under the sheets, which were quite possibly the softest sheets Lucy had ever felt, same as the ones on her own bed. She supposed it was nice sometimes, to be a queen. Being just a girl in England wouldn't have allow her these luxuries. And besides, if Peter was right and being queen didn't mean being dignified and proper, perhaps she could be a good one.

Again, the branches rapped against the glass pane, and Lucy gazed at the window, tucking her hair behind her ears and snuggling under the covers. Peter climbed in next to her, pressing his shoulder to hers, the two of them staring at the ceiling of his four-poster bed.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"The frost giants really wouldn't invade Narnia, right?"

She heard the grin in his voice. "No. Oreius would have told us. Besides, the giants aren't very organized. They couldn't get halfway across Narnia's border without being stopped."

"Good."

Peter blew out the candle and Lucy drifted into sleep.