irrelevant. || peter pevensie || complete

sixteen

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"I never knew my mother. According to Mrs. Macready, I was born in London somewhere. My mother was somehow related to Mrs. Macready, or the professor. I don't really know how." Phoebe shrugged, looking down at her hands. She was afraid of the look Peter's eyes would hold if she looked up at him. "Anyway. I lived with her for a few months, before she decided she didn't want me and gave me away. I've been at the estate with the professor ever since. And my last name is Walker, not Macready, thank goodness." She laughed drily. "I don't know my birthday. For all you know, I could be older than you." She laughed a little. "My middle name's May. That's why the professor decided May 1st could be my birthday. I don't know. I just kind of want to ask her why I wasn't good enough, I guess. It'd be nice to have some answers, for once."

Nearing the end of her explanation, Phoebe's voice began to tremble slightly. Crying was the last thing she needed, but it seemed like she wasn't exactly going to have a lot of choice. Phoebe turned her head to the side, trying to hold herself together and hide the evidence of her emotions from Peter.

"Phoebe, are you alright?" His voice was concerned, and Phoebe just nodded wordlessly. Her voice would betray her, she knew that much. "No, you're not." He sounded determined, but at least it was better than pity. "Phoebe, as far as I'm concerned, you're plenty good enough. Your mother, whoever she is, wasn't good enough for you. I mean, if she'd never given you to Mrs. Macready, we wouldn't be in Narnia right now. Maybe you'd live in Finchley. And trust me, you don't want to live in Finchley. Professor Kirke's estate is much nicer." Phoebe smiled slightly, still not convinced.

"Still, Peter. I have to have done something wrong. Something made me not worth sticking around for, right?" Her voice broke, becoming high and watery. She wiped away the tears gathering at the bottom of her eyes. "If it didn't, maybe I'd have a family. Maybe I wouldn't be stuck as household help because no one knows what to do with me. I don't even know what to do with me. Guess I just didn't deserve it." Phoebe shrugged, not bothering to wipe away the tears this time. Peter would have to be seriously oblivious if he hadn't noticed she was crying.

Before Phoebe truly understood what he was doing, Peter had wrapped his arms around her steadily shaking shoulders. She hadn't noticed just how much she'd been crying, but her breath was coming in short gasps, and small sobs were leaving her mouth. To his credit, Peter didn't say anything. He just held her, and rubbed small circles into her back as she cried. Phoebe was grateful. She didn't think she'd be able to string coherent sentences together. As her breathing became more even, and her tear ducts stopped releasing waterfalls, Peter began to talk.

"I know you won't believe me, Phoebe, but your mother didn't deserve you. You did nothing wrong. You were a baby, Phoebe, a baby, and your mother didn't know how to take care of you, so she gave you up instead of trying. She didn't deserve you." He said the words with such conviction that Phoebe almost choked up again. "You're not just household help, Phoebe. You're the child Professor Kirke wanted. He loves you dearly, don't you know that? Your family might not be the most conventional one, but it's your family nonetheless. We're your family. Me, Susan, Lucy, and maybe even Edmund if he sees fit to show up." Phoebe laughed despite herself, and she could practically feel Peter smiling. "See? And Phoebe, I know it's hard to believe because you've been telling yourself the opposite, but you're loved, you're needed, and you're important. Not just to us, but to all of Narnia. You're important, Phoebe. You couldn't ever be useless, and you couldn't ever be irrelevant. I promise." Phoebe felt fresh tears prickling at her eyes, and she held onto Peter just a little bit tighter.