The Golden Witch || Peter Pevensie x OC

39. Remember

Valera had quite the morning.

Lightning Bolt, to whom Valera now referred to as Bolt, gave her a quick tour of the entire temple.

They had ended up in a small room made for her.

And in that room was a chest Valera thought she would never see again.

Back in Irondale, a castle she now suspected to be nothing more than ruins, Valera had a hidden room containing a chest in which she placed a few of her most vital belongings in case of an attack.

That very chest was sat in her room in Aslan's How.

Upon her shock to see it there, Bolt explained that they had found it when Narnians travelled to the ruins of Irondale to search for the long-lost ethereal Queen.

Of course, they didn't find Valera herself, but they found what was left of her belongings and bought them here.

What it meant was Valera now had clothes of her own to wear after centuries of being dressed in dirtied rags.

The girl had reduced in size, considering she was back to being a teenager, and so there was only one dress in the chest that fit her.

The very dress she wore when she left her old world to come to Narnia.

The cream silk dress that fell to her ankles and trailed behind her when she walked.

A dress that matched the ones her sisters wore back in Charn.

Wearing it again bought forth a mixture of emotions in Valera.

For the first time in years, she felt herself again.

Her sister's rings back on her finger, her own clothes covering her body, not to mention that the healing process of her inflicted wounds from the Telmarines was working a treat.

She would almost go so far as to say she felt whole.

But there was still one piece missing.

A piece that was, unbeknownst to her, making his way across the woods back to her.

Once Valera was dressed, she thanked Bolt for his assistance and left him to travel up to the highest peak of the mountain that covered the temple.

Right up there, surrounded by trees and the crispest of breezes, would she be able to push down all the conflicting thoughts she had about war, missing Kings and Queens, guilt, suffering, and lost peace.

Instead, she would be back to her purest form.

Just Valera and nature.

She only hoped it had missed her just as much as she missed it.

Getting up to the top was a struggle when it wouldn't have been in the past.

Valera could no longer command the vines or the trees to move to assist her. Instead, she had to manually climb up the jagged rocks, gripping onto the boulders for dear life.

Once she finally reached the top, such a journey had given her an idea.

A crazy, very stupid idea.

That if she were to jump, would nature come to her call?

The sparks inside of her, the strings already reformed, seemed to come to life when her people were in danger or if she strongly desired to help another.

If her own life was placed in immediate and definite danger, would that be the next step?

But, as mentioned, it was a ridiculous thing to think.