The Forgotten (Peter Pevensie x OC)

Chapter 15

Evelyn didn't have to say anything to know what was racing through Hadre's mind. The second he saw the tapestry, she noticed something in his eyes break. No longer was he strong, and resilient. He was filled with a nostalgic sadness, and a longing for things to be the way they were. She stepped forward, enveloping him in a hug, silently letting him know that she understood. That it was okay.

Hadre didn't step away from the embrace, as he usually would've. Instead he joined her, for once not caring about the tears that slowly trickled down his skin. Instead he looked, and remembered, and saw.

He saw the warm sun, and the two future kings standing behind her, an aura of hope surrounding them. Although the elder of the two seemed a little more...intense...maybe annoyed?

He saw Arzis and Lobri, Evelyn's loyal wolves, who had crept under the fence the second their friend needed help. They now sat, tongues out, sad eyes and totally docile. Completely and utterly loyal to Evelyn.

He saw the flowers in the trees, and what looked like a dryad. Maybe there were Nymphs too.

He saw a male centaur, a wary and shocked expression on his face, walking towards the arena.

And he saw Evelyn.

She was the girl who had lost everything in the blink of an eye.

She had been dragged away to her mother's castle upon her arrival in Narnia, where she started training almost instantly, her mother designing her to be the perfect killing machine.

She had lost Noah, though it seemed like she found him again.

And she had found out that this whole time, everything was a lie.

Yes. A lie. Hadre did think those two words.

Would his mother, the very person who had lost everything to the witch, have wanted her son to be like this?

A supporter of everlasting winter.

Best swordsman in the army of a witch, literally.

A killing machine.

Ready to stab his first ever friend for turning to the side of the light.

To kill because she wanted what all Narnians wanted.

Freedom.

He stared at the tapestry, remembering his mother's last words.

She had been lying down, her freckles extra dark against her usually tanned skin. She was so close to death, had been for a few months, but you could still tell that this was the end. She couldn't fight anymore, but that didn't mean she had lost hope. There was still a sparkle in her joyful eyes.

"Hadre, my love, in my drawer, there is a small, red velvet box. Please get it for me."

He did. It was similar in style to a box containing a wedding ring, but slightly longer. Upon his mother's request, he opened it.

Lying gracefully inside were two rings. They looked like vines, weaved gracefully and delicately into a loose plait. In the centers, was a jewel. They sparkled like stars, seeming connected, but individual.

The golden ring had a silver moonstone set into it, which seemed to reflect the light in a million ways. It was beautiful.

The silver one had a shimmering emerald. It seemed to shine with the tears of a thousand stars. It, too, was beautiful, but it didn't call to him nearly as much as the golden one.

"Those rings have been passed down through the generations of my family. My bloodline." His mother traced the moonstone. "They are the only thing I have from them. They are binding rings. Meant to be worn by two people with a great connection, they send message if one is in danger. I wore them with my brother, the Faun."

Hadre's mum had two families. She was originally from Archenland, and her bloodline family had died in a freak blizzard near the start of the Queens reign. She had been staying with her grandparents at the time, waiting for her parents and siblings to get home. When they found out that they had died, she was sent to an orphanage, where she was adopted by a family of Fauns. They had raised her, but when she was married, she was forced to separate herself from them.

"One day, you'll meet them," she reassured him. "One day, you'll see your uncle and grandparents."

He had looked away at those words. They hurt. It hurt to know that he had been kept from his family all his life, simply because of his father.

"I know, my darling Hades." Hadre smiled at the nickname she had come up with after reading one of the Archenland myths her faun father had gotten her. "I know. Your father was a horrible man, and it does hurt. But that doesn't mean all hope is lost. We have to hold onto our hope, because sometimes hope is all that can keep us going." She smiled. "Promise me one thing, Hades."
"Yes?"
"Promise me, with your whole heart, that you will never, never, forget what it is like to be human and feel pain. Promise me you will never forget my scars, or yours."
"I promise."
"And remember, be proud. Not arrogant, but proud. Be proud of what you've been through. Be proud of the scars that have left marks on your skin and heart. Each scar, means 'I survive'. And each one proves you stronger than the last. Be strong, and feel the pain. I love you, my darling Hades."

And that was when she left. She died in an empty shack, with only her son there. No legacy, no glory, no honour. Just a little boy.

He had now lost not only his father, but his mother too.

And she had died in a war-ridden country, full of ice and betrayal.

But he knew that one day someone would come. Someone would come to save them. And when they did, Hadre promised he would be there to help them.

And now she stood here, arms around him.

His best friend. She would save them.

"Join me," Her soft voice whispered. "Join us. Fight for a free Narnia."

"Of course."

A sigh of relief swept through her at those words. She didn't have to fight him.

"It's not what your mother would've wanted."
"Who cares? And don't tell anyone who my mum is, please. If they knew, then..."
"I promise," Hadre said with a smile shining like sunbeams off of his face. He had his best friend back. Evelyn punched him.
"Owww! How the Tash do you punch so hard?!"
"Don't punch hard, you're just weak!" She laughed. Evelyn beamed as she turned to face Peter and Ed. She took a deep breath, needing to tell them the news.

"Guys, this is-"
"Your majesties," Mr Beaver panted as he reach the top of the hill. "The witch has demanded a meeting with Aslan!"