the girl from archenland | narnia

Interlude II

Peter paced inside his chamber. Twenty steps to one side, twenty steps back.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He stopped beside his bed, sinking down onto the floor and leaning his back against it. Covering his face with his hands he leaned his elbows on his knees. It was all to much. This was the part he hated about being High King, every decision was on his shoulders, every outcome his responsibility.

The worst part, however, was when he had to make a decision that affected someone he cared about. Like right now.

He let his mind drift back to when they had first come to Narnia all those years ago. When his own brother, Edmund had betrayed them, sold them out to the White Witch. He remembered the pain that had crushed his heart. An almost physical feeling. The unbelief. All the evidence was there, but he didn't want to believe Edmund could have done it.

But he had.

It didn't matter what Edmund had done, however. In the end, they were still family, and Peter, no matter how gruff he had seemed, had been overjoyed when Edmund had been rescued. It may have taken time to trust him again, but he loved him all the same.

Peter remembered when the Witch had come, claiming Edmund's life as her own. He remembered the fear that had gripped him, the overwhelming determination that while he was alive nothing would hurt his family ever again.

And the wave of relief that washed over him when Aslan announced that the Witch had released her claim on Edmund's life.

He remembered the battle of Beruna. The noise of clashing weapon, the screams of the dying and wounded. Telling Edmund to run, to get away. Knowing he wasn't going to make it out alive but at least his family might.

He remembered the freezing blast and the flash of light that shot across the battlefield. He remembered seeing Edmund's tiny body falling to the ground, the Witch's knife shinning with his brother's blood as she smiled.

He remembered the rage that filled him, how the world had seemed to disappear until there was nothing except him, the Witch, and Edmund's body. He remembered the agony as the Witch's knife cut into his arm.

He remembered the fear as he crouched over Edmund, his still, unmoving body. And he remembered the joy as Lucy's cordial brought life back to Edmund, and as his little brother sat up.

All the trouble the Witch had brought, every ounce of pain she had caused Edmund. He remembered it all. And years after her reign had ended she was still causing pain.

And Peter didn't know what to do.

He had trusted Nenya, he hadn't had a reason not to. He liked her, a lot. So had his sisters, and in some way, he knew Edmund had as well. That's why this hurt so much. He didn't know where she had come across the shard of the Witch's wand. He only knew it was dangerous. That he had to protect his siblings.

He didn't know what was going on he only knew Edmund was hurt, and he was as well. This brought back things they didn't wish to remember. And it's was Peter's job to fix it.

But he didn't know how.