𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 || peter pevensie [1]

chapter eight ~ demands for blood

"Tighten your grip, Edmund. You aren't going to hurt him." Both Peter and Edmund had endured the past half an hour on horseback, with Nimueh barking orders and correcting their mistakes in her strange accent. "Peter, heels! Straighten your back!"

"You know, you seemed a lot nicer before you started training us," said Edmund.

Nimueh huffed, her lips pierced. "We don't have time for me to be nice, or for you to complain. You are going to have to be able to ride in full mail and armour, which means that you'll have more weight to control. Do you expect to wield a sword and hold fast to your horse with a posture like that?"

"Where the warriors who trained you this harsh?" Edmund muttered.

"Harsher," she said, then smiled. "But I never had a prophecy behind me, telling everyone what greatness I was destined for before I knew it myself."

Peter swallowed hard, feeling his heart drop for what seemed like the hundredth time over the past few days. Even after Aslan had attempted to reassure him, the prophecy weighed on his chest. Each time it was mentioned, it felt a little heavier on his lungs and he feared that, soon enough, he would be unable to breathe.

"That's better, Edmund," and Peter was brought back to his body.

Tightening his hold on the reigns, he shifted his weight and looked up. The girl was staring at him again, a slight furrow in her brow, but turned away after a moment or two, sighing through her nose.

"Perhaps you will learn this better with a more practical approach. We will finish now. Go and water your horses. Oreius will be with you shortly."

"You won't be joining us?" Peter asked, dismounting shakily.

"I rarely fight on horseback, and never with a broadsword. They're too heavy." Nimueh slipped off her own horse and patted its nose. Her willowy frame looked small next to its broad back and large, feathered hooves, Peter thought, but something told him that, large or small, this creature feared next to nothing. "You should eat something as well," she said and, as if she had read his mind, drew herself up a little and lifted her chin as she led the horse over to the water buckets.

"I think she noticed," Edmund sniggered.

"What?" Peter snapped his head towards his brother.

"You don't stop staring at her. And when you do, it's like you're searching for something more interesting to gawk at. It's probably making her uncomfortable."

Peter grimaced. He knew Edmund would be able to tell if he denied it. "It's just...she looks so much like us, but to think that there are other worlds with human-like creatures in them. It seems impossible." Then, glancing at his unicorn, he grimaced again.

"And you're sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she looks like one of those actresses you see in the pictures?" Edmund said, the smirk never leaving his face.

The creature had caught Peter eye again. She was laughing with a group of woodland Nymphs as one of them threw several grapes at her. How quickly her temper could change.

"No," he said firmly. "It doesn't."

♛

It was on patrol that she spotted the White Witch. She was parading into the camp with a mob of her many followers. Stirring Levi along the path down the hill, she pushed him into the paddock where she tied him up with the other horses.

The Witch and Aslan were already talking by the time she reached the edge of the crowd. Nimueh didn't like the way she glared at the Sons of Adam. Slipping in between the creatures of Aslan's army, she reached out a hand to touch Susan's shoulder.

"What does she want?" she whispered.

"She wants to take Edmund to the Stone Table." Susan's voice shook.

"Yes, of course," Nimueh nodded earnestly. "The blood of traitors belongs to her." Then she added when she saw Susan's expression, "It's an old law. The Witch wasn't the one he betrayed, so it's a law that can be bent."

She glanced past Susan at Peter's raised sword. He was no match for the Witch, but she had to admire his nerve. Only when the Lion gave a shout did she look up. Aslan turned tail and retreated into his tent, the Witch following. Lucy collapsed onto the grass, sighing deeply.

Sitting down next to her, Nimueh said softly, "Aslan is wise, and he is good. He will not let your brother die, I am sure of that."

"Do you really think I am a traitor?" Edmund mumbled. His siblings immediately jumped to comfort him, but Nimueh stayed silent. She wanted to believe that Edmund was repentant, but as much as she hated to admit it, Edmund had betrayed his brother and sisters in favour of the Witch's power.

"Is there anything he can do?" Peter looked at Nimueh, eyes wide, eyebrows raised.

"Like I said, he is wise and good. You must have faith in him."

No one spoke for a long time, just pulled at the grass, and kept eye contact to a minimum. The camp was eerily still, almost deathly so, and it wasn't until the two emerged from the tent that anything seemed to move at all.

"She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood." There was a cheer from the army, cries of happiness, and even Edmund managed to smile.

"I suppose you're going to say, 'I told you so'?" Peter smiled at Nimueh, sheepishly.

"I'm not the one you need to have faith in. But I suppose, yes, I did tell you so."

"How do I know that you will keep your promise, Aslan?" the Witch bellowed. But it only took a roar from the Great Lion to push her a step back, and she fell onto her makeshift throne. There was another cheer from the army as the Witch and her entourage paraded back through the camp.

Nimueh fell away from the family celebration. Something didn't feel right. What could Aslan have said to change the Witch's mind? Looking over the heads of the celebrating Narnians, she saw Aslan slink back into this tent, his tail drooping. This was Jadis, and she would not give in until her price was duly paid.