TEMPATATION

CHAPTER NINE

      Upon their return, a great feast awaited the Pevensies in celebration of Peter's knighthood. It was comparatively modest considering their circumstances but appreciated nonetheless. Torches burned in the twilight and cast a warm glow over the valley as soldiers picked apart a smorgasbord of meats, fruits, cheeses, and pastries. Fauns improvised with the tools at their disposal to play rousing, earthy music and soon everyone was locking arms and twirling freely.

     While Peter was grateful for the small celebration, his mind wandered to all that still lie ahead. Edmund had yet to return and there was still a great war impending. As discreetly as he tried to manage his thoughts, his dancing partner could easily tell the knight was distraught and paused abruptly, a grimace crossing her face.
     
"There is something troubling you, is there not?" the dryad questioned. Not paying attention, Peter whammed right into the spirit, her leaves ruffling from the impact. She gasped, flustered, and crossed her arms in displeasure. Peter quickly muttered an apology, his face reddening in embarrassment, before shaking his head and writing his concerns off as nothing. The dryad, however, was not easily fooled and, frustrated with his preoccupation, floated away to find a more attentive dance partner.
     
From across the way, Eilonwy couldn't help but stifle a chuckle at the nymph's aggravation. Rather than join the celebration, the girl kept to herself near the refreshments, guzzling glasses of ale and scarfing down countless turkey legs. It didn't feel right for her to partake in the festivities. After all, it was Peter's party and she wasn't at the liberty to intrude after everything she had said to him earlier. Besides, she was content to keep to herself anyways, observing the festivities and lightly swaying to the music.
     
"I see you resent the company of others. Why don't you enjoy all that is offered to you, dear one?" a deep voice suddenly spoke, stirring the girl from her entertainment. Gulping back another swig of ale, she was met with the wild face of the lion himself. She nearly choked on her drink at the sight of him approaching, not expecting him to speak with her individually. He was even more grand and intimidating up close.
     
Pounding her fist against her chest, she caught her breath and swiped the excess fluid from her lips with the back of her hand. "It's not my party" she replied breathlessly. In truth, she wasn't quite sure how to act in front of such a magnificent being and was overwhelmed with anxiety in his presence. Her vow to spit in his eye suddenly rang in her brain and she gave a minute shake of her head at the thought. Spit in his eye, my ass. Spit in his eye and he'll surely bite my face off, she thought to herself. Gathering her composure, she finally added, "Besides, I'm not much of a dancer." However, Aslan could see right through her cavalier excuses and grimaced suspiciously. His eyes bore holes into her head and she quickly averted her own in discomfort.
     
Despite his disappointment, the lion couldn't force Eilonwy to participate and therefore simply sighed and replied, "As you wish, child. But remember this as I part: you are confined only by the walls you build yourself. Do not let meager opportunities go to waste." Here, Aslan glanced into the crowd, his eyes landing on Peter for a split second, before bowing his head and departing. Eilonwy watched the beast disappear with a frustrated sigh, finishing off another glass of ale and mulling over his words for the remainder of the night. She hated his philosophical ramblings yet knew he made a very poignant point.
     
As the moon sat high overhead, the festival's energy slowly dwindled. A soft breeze extinguished the torches' blaze and drunken fauns collapsed into the grass for a long, balmy slumber. Lucy had dozed off early in the night, her head resting upon the tabletop, and Peter hoisted her into his arms to carry her off to bed. Seated on a nearby boulder, Eilonwy sipped another glass of ale as she eyed the siblings with a hard, anxious gaze. They bid the conscious few a goodnight before retreating to their quarters in weighted, sluggish motions. Eyes locked on the trio, Aslan's resounding advice charged Eilonwy with a stinging electricity, a strange and potent sensation buzzing deep within her chest. It coursed through her veins and ignited her limbs until she took one last swig of ale, gathered up her skirts, and rushed across the pathway towards the residential tents.
     
By the time she skidded to a halt at the cul de sac, the Pevensies had already latched their curtains shut for the night. Pursing her lips, she bolted into her own quarters for only a moment, slinging her satchel over her shoulder before slowly approaching Peter's chambers. With a deep breath, she leaned forward, cupped her hands around her mouth, and whispered softly, "Pssttt...Peter? I suppose asking for a word wouldn't be too much trouble, would it?"
     
Mistaking the voice for his sister's, Peter tugged the curtain's closure open and allowed his guest entry. The flap blew open and Eilonwy slipped inside slowly and quietly, arms wrapped around her chest. Even though the knight had approved her request, she still felt as if she was trespassing and therefore stepped cautiously. The tent was dark inside save for the faint light of a candle atop a small nightstand against which Peter's sword and shield leaned. With his back to the entry, Peter was just unfastening his leather vest when he opened his mouth to speak. However, before he could produce any sound, he turned to find it hadn't been Susan standing in the doorway. Whatever words he planned to speak caught in his throat and presented themselves in startled, fragmented noises. "W-what are you doing here?" he finally asked.
     
"You bade me inside, remember?" Eilonwy replied, her voice coated in sass. She crossed her arms and eyed him curiously, awaiting his response. As far as she could remember, she had never seen him quite so flustered before and frankly, it was rather amusing.
     
"I thought you were Susan!" he explained frantically, tossing his vest onto a nearby chair. If he had the confidence, he would've shoved her out of his tent that instant but something about her presence caused him to immediately recoil. Once he composed himself, he then asked, "Did you, uh, did you want something or did you just come here to continue insulting me?"
     
Though his words stung, Eilonwy cringed for only a moment. "No, I actually came here to, uh...to apologize" she spoke. The initial force of her voice quickly waned into a nervous stammer, causing Peter to loosen his stance in response. Apologies weren't exactly the girl's forte so issuing them was strange and a little unsettling. She hesitantly stepped forward and then motioned towards his hammock, silently asking if it was alright to sit. Peter gave a small nod, watching as she cautiously perched herself on the edge and folded her hands in her lap, as if she was afraid to touch anything. "I, uh, I know I haven't exactly been the most, erm...pleasant company these past few days and I wanted to formally apologize. It was wrong for me to treat you and your sisters as rudely as I did, as I'm well aware you already have enough to concern yourself with. You don't need some belligerent ass making even more of a mess of your already crap life." Here, she looked up at him and pursed her lips, patiently awaiting his response.
     
While her apology was a little unorthodox, he was appreciative just the same. Releasing a soft sigh, he pushed his vest aside and seated himself upon the adjacent chair. "Well, thank you" he said with a brief nod, unsure of what else to say.
     
The two of them sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Eilonwy finally opened her mouth to speak again. "Congratulations, by the way, on the, uh, the knighthood and everything. You, uh, you deserve it." Peter, again, was taken aback by her words. Here was a girl who just earlier that day tore him to shreds about his lackluster qualifications and now she was claiming he deserved the title he had been given. Her contradictions were a little unnerving and Peter was unsure whether to believe her or not. However, she spoke with an ingenuity that he knew only the most skilled liars could fake.
     
"Thank you. I have to say, though, I wasn't expecting to get such a party for it" he replied sheepishly. Eilonwy couldn't help but find his modesty somewhat charming. Beginning to grow more comfortable in his presence, she chuckled and leaned back in the hammock, rocking slightly in it's swing.
     
"If you think that was grand, you ought to see the celebrations they used to have at Cair Paravel. There would be massive bands playing fantastic music and tables filled with candies as far as the eye can see. Oh, and the decorations were beautiful. Fresh flowers everywhere" she raved, a small smile hinting at her lips. Peter laughed softly at the image, refreshed to see her speak so passionately about something positive for a change. A part of him was curious as to how she even knew such information if the castle had been vacant for a century but he didn't dare confront her on the matter. He didn't want to ruin whatever progress he was making in these intimate moments. Besides, a more significant thought was taking precedence.
     
"I just wish Edmund could've been there" Peter murmured, averting his eyes. "I'm sure he would've loved it, at least for the food if nothing else." The pain strangling his voice struck Eilonwy in the center of her chest. For the second time that day, Peter was confiding in her yet this time, she realized she wasn't quite so afraid.
     
Chuckling softly, she rubbed her arms as a sad smile crossed her face. "I can only imagine. You never really appreciate something until it's gone. Or someone." Peter's head snapped up to face her, furrowing his brows curiously. Up until then, he never really considered that she must have a mother and father, and perhaps siblings, somewhere. Or at least ones that weren't beavers. Certainly he had been curious about her backstory but now that he was being spoonfed hints, he was terrified. After a few more moments of silence, Eilonwy met his gaze with sullen eyes and murmured, "Peter, will you do me a small favor?"
     
"That depends what it is" he replied quietly. A million and one scenarios began flurrying through his brain, horrified of what request may spill from her mouth.
     
"Promise me you won't be too hard on your brother. You may not realize just how huge an impact all of this has probably left on him. Betraying your family...it certainly leaves irrevocable scars" she whispered. Her voice was low and hoarse, strangled by the hands of an unspoken past. Her words only made Peter that much more curious, giving a meek nod in reply.
     
"I'll do my best" he whispered back. Once more, they slipped into another long and defeaning silence, the weight of words desperate to be said lingering in the dense, humid air. Peter wanted to take advantage of her vulnerability to finally inquire about her past but whatever questions he wished to ask tangled in his throat and choked him silent. After a few unending minutes, Eilonwy met his eyes with an uncharacteristic weakness and shifted slightly in her seat.
     
"Peter, will you do me another favor?" she croaked.
     
"What is it?" he replied. Scooting over on the hammock, she patted the space beside her with a sheepish smile. Peter rose with a deep breath and carefully sat next to her, their sides pressed against one another. A small, hollow smile flashed across her face a moment before mouthing a silent thank you and it wasn't until then that Peter really got a decent look at her. Truthfully, he was taken aback by how contradictory she appeared: her childish face was burdened with all the weariness of an elderly man. Her round features were youthful and inviting yet her hazel eyes burned with a fierce sadness accompanied by thick, vicious brows. She was deathly pale and unnaturally thin, a corpse of a woman, though her muscles were toned and knotted beneath her papery skin. Tangled hair fell in her face, disappearing into the black of night and contrasting against her flesh. And when she smiled-- truly, genuinely smiled-- she flashed a set of crooked, off-white teeth and her face contorted into a series of sharp, exaggerated lines. The longer he looked at her, the more physically undesirable she seemed, yet he couldn't quite pinpoint why a strange hunger was taking hold of his stomach at being so close to her.
     
Peter stilled immediately as she gazed up at him, yearning to speak yet remaining silent. Rather, she slowly swung her satchel into her lap and reached inside to gingerly retrieve a wooden box. Peter instantly recognized it as the beautifully ornate box Father Christmas had given her, his brows furrowing in confusion. Even in the midnight, it's scrying stone glistened gold and a cloud of light surrounded it's rough texture. Eilonwy twisted to face the boy, settling the box into her lap, before breaking the silence. "I'm not often one to trust easily for a multitude of reasons. However, I believe you fully deserve to know of who is allying with you and I can no longer deny you that right. I believe perhaps I can trust you. I hope I'm not wrong in thinking that. Please don't prove me wrong."
     
Her words and body language were beginning to scare Peter, but he remained silent for fear of what she might do if he protested. Drawing in a gulp of air, she reached out and gently grasped his hand. Her palms were cold and clammy and trembling and her usually pale face had reduced to a sickening tinge of green. Glancing up at him, she shakily demanded he close his eyes. He obeyed, stiffening in uncertainty. Without a single word, she guided his hand to the box and rested his palm upon the lid's stone. Though no warmer than the outside air, it stung cold beneath his flesh as if it was made of menthol and by instinct, he nearly tugged his hand away. Before he could break free of Eilonwy's iron grasp, however, a hazy vision began clarifying from the black.