MILLION WORDS | ❝There's a million words I should've said, I remember you were standing in my doorway and the words were on my lips, that you never looked so beautiful. Oh just to be near you, don't you know how good that feels? These are all the th...
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It had been days since my confrontation with Susan. Days that felt like weeks.
We had not spoken since that night, and in truth, I wasn't sure if I wanted to. Whenever we crossed paths in the corridors of Cair Paravel, we pretended not to notice each other. When meals or royal councils forced us into the same room, we became masters of indifference—polite smiles for others, carefully chosen silence for each other. If anyone else in the castle noticed, they said nothing, and for that I was grateful.
But what hurt most was not Susan's sharp words. It was Peter.
Each day he seemed to slip further from me, as if I were grasping at sand in the tide. At first, I tried to ignore it—telling myself he was simply busy, that the crown had always demanded much of him. But soon, excuses piled upon excuses. Every time I sought him out for a walk, a quiet meal, or even a simple moment together, he had a reason to refuse. There was always a report to read, a knight to train, a dispute to settle.
Always something. Always an excuse.
I told myself not to blame him. He was the High King. He had responsibilities. But my heart whispered a different fear: maybe Susan had planted doubts in him, and maybe he was beginning to listen.
Now we stood together in the council chamber, though the space between us felt wider than the breadth of the great oak table. All six rulers of Narnia leaned over the map and parchment spread across its surface, the air thick with the tension of the messenger's news.
The Giants were planning rebellion.
The words themselves seemed to hang in the chamber like a dark cloud.
"What are we going to do?" Susan whispered, her hand flying to her mouth. She looked pale, her dark hair framing a face etched with worry.
No one spoke. I could hear the fire crackle in the hearth, the steady tapping of Edmund's fingers against the wood. Peter said nothing, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the parchment.
I swallowed, forcing my voice to be steady even as my chest ached. "We can't wait and see what happens," I said firmly. "If the Giants truly are planning to rebel, we must begin gathering an army. To sit idle is to invite disaster."
At that, Peter finally raised his head. His gaze flickered to mine—just long enough for me to see the weariness there—before shifting away again. He gave a single, brief nod.
"I'll draft the message for recruits," Edmund said briskly, already reaching for parchment and quills. "Peter, you and Serena can work on the rest once I've finished."
I offered him a grateful smile, but he was already moving, Ivory close at his side. Their hands brushed together as they left the chamber, their quiet understanding both comforting and, in a way, painful. They had each other. I wasn't sure I had Peter anymore.
That left me with the three Pevensie siblings.
The silence stretched long and heavy. I hesitated before reaching out, laying a tentative hand on Peter's shoulder. He froze at my touch, the stiffness in his body making my heart falter.
"Peter," I whispered, my voice almost too quiet for the others to hear. "Can we talk?"
I needed him. I needed to hear him say we were all right, that no matter what burden the crown placed on his shoulders, I hadn't lost the boy who had once loved me so fiercely.
He turned at last. For a heartbeat, I thought I saw the warmth I longed for flicker in his eyes. But it vanished, shuttered away behind the High King's mask.
"I'm sorry, Serena," he said softly. He leaned in just far enough to press a fleeting kiss to my cheek. "With a possible war coming, I need to speak with the blacksmith about weapons."
And just like that, he left.
I stood frozen, my hand still hovering where his shoulder had been, the place on my cheek where he kissed me already cold. My chest constricted painfully, as though my heart were being pulled apart thread by thread.
Swallowing hard, I forced a smile as I turned back to the others. Lucy's eyes lingered on me, full of quiet sympathy, but Susan never lifted her gaze. She kept her eyes trained on the table; her silence sharp as a blade.
"I should go as well," I murmured, though no one answered. With a nod, I turned and walked from the chamber before the tears burning behind my eyes could betray me.
♚♚♚
By the time I reached my chambers, the mask I had forced onto my face had crumbled away. I closed the door behind me and collapsed onto the bed, pressing my face into the sheets as sobs shook my body.
Was this what Susan had meant? That Peter and I would never last because duty would always come first? Was this her doing? Or was Peter truly beginning to fall out of love with me?
I was new to all this—new to love, new to being loved. But was it supposed to feel like this? As though my heart were being crushed in a fist? As though every breath came harder than the last?
I pressed trembling fingers to the necklace at my chest, the red heart pendant glowing faintly with the warmth of its magic. It pulsed with each heartbeat, echoing my pain back at me.
Before I could stop myself, the magic surged through me. My skin rippled, bones shifting, fur sprouting across my arms. In moments, the girl was gone, and the lioness remained.
I bolted from the castle, paws striking the earth as I ran.
The cool wind whipped through my fur, sharp and cold, but I welcomed the sting. I ran harder, faster, as if I could outrun the ache in my chest, as if I could leave behind the image of Peter's cold eyes and Susan's cutting silence.
Through the woods I went, weaving between ancient oaks and leaping over twisting roots, the sound of my claws tearing the soil echoing like thunder. The forest embraced me in its shadows, yet even there I found no peace.
Still, I ran.
I ran until the trees thinned and the sound of waves met my ears. The forest opened onto the cliffs, the sea stretched out endlessly before me, black and silver beneath the moonlight.
I slowed, panting, my flanks heaving as the salt air filled my lungs. For a moment, I simply stood there, the lioness gazing at the sea, but it was my heart—the girl's heart—that ached.
This was our place. We had stood on this grass hand in hand, the wind whipping our hair, and he had sworn that nothing could ever come between us.
I tilted my head back and let out a roar, long and fierce, the sound carrying across the waves. It was wild, unrestrained, the voice of a creature that refused to be caged. Yet beneath it lingered sorrow. When the echo faded, silence returned, and with it came the truth I had been running from. No matter how far I fled, no matter how fiercely I roared, I could not escape the fear gnawing at me.
