As night fell over Narnia, an inexplicable eeriness came with it. It began at supper as a simple, quiet pulse, a flicker of anxiety in preoccupied bellies. The deeper the sun dipped into the sea, however, the stronger the unease grew until it flooded the valley and haunted all who rest in it's wake. From beneath thin sheets, Eilonwy pressed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets in hopes of forcing herself to sleep, but to no avail. Colors danced behind her eyelids, a parade of haphazard blotches taunting her inability to rest until finally, she gave up and rolled onto her side with a huff. Strained eyes stared into the darkness at familiar furniture, the stone embedded in her box painting the tent's ceiling in a tangerine glow. The longer she stared, though, the more she realized something wasn't quite right. The ornate chair across from her, upon which her crimson cloak was once strewn, stood empty.
Before she could ponder further, however, the snap of a branch caught her attention and her eyes darted to a lurking shadow cast upon her tent's wall. In the darkness, the shape was skewed to where she was unsure whether it's owner was monster or man. Regardless, any trespasser was worthy of suspicion. Drawing her sword, she hopped to her feet and eyed the figure as it skated toward the entry.
"One step further and I'll draw and quarter you like game!" she threatened, adopting a violent stance. The being froze, back stiff and eyes wide.
"You know, you're becoming dangerously hostile toward my trouser region" Peter jested softly, voice cracking in masked unease. The moment Eilonwy realized it was him, she heaved a sigh of relief and lowered her weapon.
"You know, introductions would be rather appropriate here. Don't they have those where you're from?" she asked, sheathing her sword. The knight inched his way closer, eyes darting around the room and hand tucked suspiciously behind his back.
"Sorry, I suppose I didn't want to wake anyone" he replied with a sheepish smile. Eilonwy shot him a puzzled glance as she seated herself on the edge of her bed, then ushered him to join her. Though he hesitated a moment, he eventually shuffled closer and took a seat on the bed beside her. A nervous energy pulsated between them.
Shoulder to shoulder, jolts of electricity coursed through the huntress's body until her ears rang with the pain of silence. Softly clearing her throat, she smoothed her skirts before murmuring, "You, uh, you must be so relieved about your brother."
Rubbing the back of his neck, Peter nodded. "I am. I'm just glad he came back in one piece" he replied with a light chuckle. A small smile flashed on Eilonwy's lips as she nodded in agreement.
"His scrapes and bruises will heal easily, I'm sure. Whatever emotional trauma Jadis inflicted upon him, however...not so much" she replied. Peter's hollow laugh trailed off, his face slowly sinking into that of a much more serious expression. Eilonwy yearned to know what he was thinking, of the concerns coursing through his head, but couldn't bring herself to outright ask. Rather, the pair slipped into another deafening silence.
Blue eyes locked themselves on the empty chair as the knight's free hand trembled anxiously. His other was still securely hidden behind his back and for a moment, Eilonwy almost thought she caught sight of something shimmering in his tight grasp. She didn't dare question it, though.
The tension in their quietness escalated until Eilonwy could no longer bear it. Her heart raced in her chest at Peter's anxious silence, her mouth running dry and palms growing sweaty. Biting her lip, she stared at him a moment more before bursting. "Alright, Peter, tell me why you're really here."
The sudden disruption startled the knight, as if he had nearly forgotten where he was or who he was with. He stared back at her with wide, confused eyes for a second before floundering to formulate a reply. His stammering was no more reassuring than his silence was and Eilonwy dug her nails into her palms to try and keep her patience.
"I-I..I have something to tell you" he spluttered nervously, rising from his seat to pace the tent. Eilonwy furrowed her brows as she watched him, nails digging even deeper into her calloused flesh. "Eilonwy, the...well, the battle is tomorrow and I...I've been thinking a lot about the--the dangers that come with it" he continued. In that instance, a wave of relief washed over the huntress as she waited for him to finish, though she already knew exactly what else he was going to say. Obviously, due to his body language and fidgety demeanor, he must have just been insanely nervous. After all, she couldn't imagine him feeling anything less. A part of him wondered what the wars of his world were like, but she doubted he had participated in any of them. After all, when they first met, he could barely defend himself, let alone an entire country. Dropping her shoulders, Eilonwy rested her chin in her hand as she watched him pace aimlessly and stammer.
Her eyes burned holes through Peter's skin as he struggled to admit what he need to say. He pressed his hidden trinket into his palm nervously, its diadems imprinting his skin, and silently begged for an easy way to confess his emotions. Squeezing his eyes shut, he then finally said it. "Eilonwy, I don't want you in the battle tomorrow."
Breathless, the huntress's mouth gaped as she stared blankly toward the knight, stunned by his request. "W-what? But that's not fair! Why not?" she demanded. A sickening anger rose up from inside of her, coated in thorns and disbelief. After a hundred years surviving on her own, she knew she had just as much if not more expertise than anyone else in Aslan's army. She wasn't even sure if Aslan himself had approved Peter's decision but perhaps it wasn't the lion's choice to make. Even without the crown, Peter was already acting like a high king and his growing superiority made her sick.
Sucking in a deep breath, Peter rubbed his eyes with his free hand and searched for the right words to say. It wasn't even as if his request was planned, though he didn't dare tell her what he originally intended. He wasn't brave enough. "Eilonwy, please try to understand. I have a responsibility to keep Narnia safe and that includes you, too. Battles are ugly and dangerous and no place for a woman. You could get severely injured or-or worse and I refuse to let that happen. You're not going" he elaborated. As he recited his spiel, his confidence slowly evolved until his back had straightened and he was eyeing Eilonwy with an authoritative gaze. Despite his vast knowledge of her skill, there was a morsel of truth in his lie. The vision of his friend stabbed or slaughtered churned his stomach and obstructed his throat.
Fury began coursing through Eilonwy's veins at his speech, however, growing angrier with each word until she finally exploded. "I can't believe you! You knew nothing until I came along and even then, you're still inferior! What do you expect me to do meanwhile, anyways? Sit idly by like some lady in waiting? Knit afghans with Mrs. Beaver? You know, my gender does not make me any less of a solider than you or anyone else in this godforsaken camp!" she ranted, abruptly rising from the bed.
"Eilonwy, i-it's not--!" Peter tried to interrupt but the huntress refused to pause in her fury.
"I am strong enough and skilled enough and you know that! Unless your greatest fear is that a woman could kill the White Witch quicker and cleaner than you could. Is that what it is? Are you afraid I'm better than you? That a woman is better than you? Hmm? Or is it something else? Humor me, Peter, please!" she spewed, fists clenched at her sides. Peter tried to interject but to no avail. By the end of her shouting, Eilonwy's face had grown bright red and her brows were furrowed at an almost unnatural angle.
Peter was shaken by her rage for only a moment before forcing a kingly air about himself, clenching his jaw and staring down at her with a stony gaze. "Eilonwy, I'm not going to negotiate this. I have enough to worry about, let alone keeping you from getting yourself killed" he responded.
"You never answered my question!" she shouted back, glaring up at him. He was easily an entire foot taller than her which made it very hard to feel as intimidating as she wished she did.
"Who said I needed to?" Peter rebuked. The muscles in his jaw flexed with frustration and a hint of fear.
"I do!" she screamed. "I think I at least deserve an explanation as to why you're treating me like...like some child! My seniority ought to be enough to make you think twice of your commands, your majesty. I'd be an invaluable asset to Aslan's army and you know that!"
"Your skill is no longer important! Your disobedience, however, is! Why can't you just listen to someone other than yourself for once in your life? You don't always know best, Eilonwy!" Peter fired back.
At that, Eilonwy bit her lip and glared up at the knight with glossy eyes. Over the years, she had been beaten, belittled, and abandoned yet somehow his words hurt more than everything else combined. Bowing her head, she murmured softly, "I can't believe I ever thought I could trust you." The pain quivering in her voice was brutally evident, though she refused to admit it's presence. In one swift motion, she drew her sword and pointed the blade's tip at Peter's chest. "Get out. Now" she commanded quietly. Peter only allowed himself a moment to express his surprise before straightening his back once more, though his dominance slowly began to crumble beneath her harsh eye contact. "I-I said get out!" she shouted, poking her blade nearer to him.
"Why is this so hard for you?" Peter fired back, refusing to retreat at the mercy of her defense. Given his previous experiences, a deep part of him expected Eilonwy to impale him that very instance but he noticed a certain glimmer in her eyes that negated the idea. It was, he perceived, a foreign softness to her usually threatening nature. One that hinted that perhaps she no longer had the capacity for that level of hatred. Or at least he hoped.
"Because you're being an absolute ass! My safety should be the least of your concerns, especially when it could greatly affect your success in battle. Why do you even care so much, anyways?" she shouted back.
"Because I--!" Peter started before quickly halting himself. He was then met with a grave decision to make, the hardest kind of all. He was met with the opportunity to tell the truth. The words he had wanted to say from the beginning tangled in his throat and choked him breathless, the trinket nearly piercing his skin. Averting his eyes, he drew in a deep breath and attempted to center himself.
"Well?" Eilonwy spat after a few moments of silence, growing wildly impatient. She detected a strange sense of indecision on Peter's face, reflecting an internal conflict she didn't quite understand. The sole presence of it jolted her heart into her throat and charged an electricity through her limbs that trembled her hands violently. She needed an answer, a reassurance, an explanation as to why he was treating her in such a way.
Finally, he mustered the most viable answer he could form. "Because I'm the high king and you listen to me" he spoke with quiet restraint, gaze hard and teeth clenched. There was a forced confidence in his features that instantly took hold of Eilonwy and forced her to lower her blade. In that instance, she finally saw the return of that terrified boy she had first met in Allies Enclave, that same fear painting his face as when he stared upon Jadis's imposing castle. He may have been a knight but he was still just a kid. Not only that, but he was a kid thrown into an adult war. A kid silently screaming his fears. Dropping her gaze to the grass, she sunk back down upon her cot and the pair drifted into a heavy silence.
The quietness slowly cooled both their tempers until they were overflowing with emptiness and regret. Their opinions still stood strong but their desires for those opinions were another matter entirely. As time crept by, Eilonwy finally opened her mouth to speak. "Y-you should, uh...you should get back. Edmund's probably wondering where you ran off to" she whispered, refusing to meet his gaze. Eyes locked on the dirt, Peter drew in a deep breath before giving a minute nod and digging the toe of his boot into the dirt.
"You're right. I-I wouldn't want to worry him..." he murmured back. Wrapping her arms around her abdomen, Eilonwy watched with solemn eyes as Peter approached the exit. His movements were slow and sluggish as if he was lugged down by the weight of the world. He brushed back the tent's flaps and disappeared from her view, pausing within the cul de sac of residential quarters. Kicking at the earth, he cursed under his breath and dug the trinket deeper into his flesh. He just couldn't understand why this was so damn hard for him, why he couldn't just tell her what she needed to know. The thought of admitting his feelings made him instantly weak and he swallowed hard to try and rid himself of the overwhelming fear. He couldn't swallow back his desperation, though. He needed to tell her, especially with the lingering time constraints of an impending war. For all he knew, he may not have any other chance. For all he knew, this was his last night alive. Staring up at the stars dancing overhead, he sighed in exasperation and searched for some inkling of reassurance. When he found none, he bowed his head, squeezed the trinket deeper against his palm, and returned to his tent in silent defeat.
Across the way, Lucy lay awake in her own bed, huffing frustratedly as she tried to find the most comfortable position. A strange grunting noise caught her attention, however, and she jolted upright to find the shadow of a massive beast gliding across the tent's wall.
"Susan!" she whispered frantically, recognizing the creature at once. Furrowing her brows, the young woman squinted at her baby sister in confusion before spying the form itself. In an instant, the two threw back their blankets and snatched their weapons. As Lucy approached the exit, however, she glanced back to find her elder sister had paused beside the foot of the bed. Beneath her usual cloak lay a pile of bright red fabric, it's underside invisible. Lucy's eyes widened a moment at the initial sight of it, taken aback by it's presence. "Susan, where did that come from?" the youngest questioned suspiciously.
Susan pursed her lips as she hooked her own cape around her neck. "I'm just borrowing it!" she replied, trying to save face. "Besides, I can't imagine things would go very well should we be seen out of bed at such an hour" she added. Lucy sighed indecisively, paying one last glance to the beast's figure as it disappeared into the trees. Before she could protest, however, Susan had already scooped up the magical cloak and disappeared into the darkness.
Before they could venture very far, Susan placed a gentle hand upon Lucy's shoulder and beckoned her closer. Though the youngest was all too eager to unearth the great lion's strange plan, Susan better understood the tactics behind successful sneaking. In one swift motion, she wrapped the mystical fabric around the both of them and they vanished from sight.
Aslan crept through the forest in slow, methodical movements, head bowed and eyes locked on the ground before him. The girls watched curiously, their minds racing as they tried to deduce what he was doing or where he was going. There were only so many responsibilities he could need to fulfill at such a late hour but the Pevensie sisters were determined to discover the truth. They stepped lightly as they weaved through the maze of trees, careful not to step on a stray twig or crunch the leaves beneath their feet. No matter how silently they lurked, however, they could not fool the ancient lion.
"It's very late. Shouldn't you both be asleep?" he asked suddenly, pausing amongst the evergreens. A gasp escaped Lucy's lips as Susan slowly tore away the cloak.
"How did you...?" the eldest began before Aslan interrupted.
"You cannot easily fool me with such trickery. I will always know of your whereabouts" he explained. A soft blush rose to Susan's cheeks, her plan foiled, as she averted her eyes in embarrassment. The lion's ethereal knowledge was puzzling and slightly concerning but now that she knew of his power, her theft seemed rather unnecessary. Licking her lips, she balled the cloak up and held it close to her chest as she and her sister approached.
"Please, Aslan. Can we come with you?" Lucy asked hopefully, hands clasped to her chest. Standing so close to the lion, she was overcome with his magnificence and flooded with a warm sensation of longing and protection.
Aslan remained silent for a moment before bowing his head and replying, "As it is yoru right, you may, but only for a short while. I give you my thanks for the company, however short it may be." In that instant, his words seemed to convey an underlying permission for the two young queens to do the terrifying thing they did next. Hesitantly, Lucy lifted her hand to softly intertwine her fingers with the lion's mane. His ear twitched slightly but he ceased to protest, so they both laced the thick hair in their grasp as they walked.
Moonlight fell through the branches in fragmented patches across three solemn faces traversing the wood. The journey seemed infinite, all the trees nearly identical to one another. The quietness instilled a sense of tranquility within them, yet deep down charged the girls with an inexplicable paranoia. They didn't dare question the beast regardless of their hunger for an explanation.
Just before reaching a break in the trees, the lion paused and broke their eternal silence. "The time has come. From here, I must go on alone" he announced in his deep, solemn voice. Lucy slowly released her grip, recoiling towards her sister as Susan sidled up beside her. The eldest stared at him with a grave confusion that sparked unavoidable questioning, yet again proving that she had no qualms about making herself heard.
"But Aslan, why can't you--?" she started but the great lion interrupted her.
"Silence, dear one. You must trust me. Now, it is time you both were in bed. There are things after dark not meant for young girls' viewing" he spoke. There was a sadness in his burning eyes that further heightened the sisters' concern, their hearts beating out of their chests in a symphony of fear and desperation. They stood in silence as the lion disappeared into the trees, the faint beating of drums reaching their ears. It took only a moment before they both knew what they must do. Paying a moment's glance towards each other, Susan draped the cloak across herself and her sister before disappearing into the night.
When Peter returned, Edmund remained fast asleep and the knight silently thanked the heavens for his brother's constant slumber. He assumed the hammock into which the boy was sloppily tucked was certainly much more accommodating than the arrangements in Jadis's palace. Peter shuddered at the thought. Sliding off his boots, he settled into his own bed yet found he still could not fall asleep. He constantly shifted and sighed, preoccupied with the sea of thoughts surging through his brain. He thought of the battle, of whether he was skilled enough to defeat the White Witch. He thought of his brother and his recent imprisonment, of the horrible conditions he must've been subjected to and how wonderful vengeance for Edmund would feel. He thought of his sisters, their sweet faces and melodic voices, and how desperately he wanted to keep them safe, too. Peter had already agreed that he didn't want either of them in battle, either, for the sake of their safety and his sanity. Wars were no place for women, let alone his beloved Susan and Lucy. If anyone was deserving of a good beating, Peter believed it was himself. He would much rather take the brunt of the attack than to put his siblings in danger. Or Eilonwy.
Chewing over their argument filled him with a great disdain for the way things unfolded. Her disobedience was in no way satisfying, though neither was his hesitancy. A strong energy took hold of him in that moment, shoving him out of bed until he found himself rummaging through his trunk for parchment. If he couldn't speak to her, perhaps he could bleed his feelings onto paper and submit them to her without the confrontation. Then at least she would finally know the truth. Smoothing out an unearthed scrap upon the nearby desk, he dipped his quill into the ink and began frantically scribbling every thought that popped into his head. The scratch of the quill's tip soothed him, as did seeing the fragmented confession spring to life upon the page. When he was finished, he shook the numbness from his hand, fanned the parchment dry, and folded it into a neat little triangle for organization's sake. His eyes then drifted to the trinket lying upon the desk. Sapphire eyes studied it longingly for a moment, the diadems of the heart-shaped charm glimmered in the moonlight, framed by the tangle of it's leather chain. Peter ran his finger over the jewels encrusted in the metal, the crystals cool against his skin. He scooped it up and let it fall between his hands before snatching away a small velvet sack from his trunk and slipping the necklace and note inside. Tying the bag shut, he tucked it beneath his pillow and then curled up for a hollow sleep.
Stark sunlight cast it's ray upon Peter's face in the mid-morning hours, warming his cheeks and lulling him awake. Rubbing his eyes, he propped himself up on his elbows and squinted until his vision clarified. Soft grass scratched at his bare arms and lush evergreens towered above him. The faint babbling of a nearby brook sang in his ears. In his peripheral vision, he caught sight of an ethereal figure gliding towards him and his heart rate instantly quickened. He wanted to jolt up and draw his sword in fear of an approaching enemy but found his limbs were paralyzed by some inexplicable calmness. As he slowly turned to face his opponent, however, his mouth ran dry and his palms grew sweaty.
He knew it was her immediately yet there was something innately different about her. Once pale and papery skin was now soft and sunkissed, her tangled hair pulled into an intricate braid down her back. Her face seemed fuller, all rosy cheeks and glinting eyes. She licked her cherry lips and uttered a soft laugh that rattled the autumn leaves. Her dress hugged her body rather than hung from it, her figure fuller and for a moment, he swore in certain movements it seemed as if her waistline had expanded. Perhaps most noticeable, however, was the band around her finger and the crystalline charm dangling from her neck. She flashed a crooked smile before beckoning him towards her, mischief emanating from her hazel eyes.
Suddenly, all the weight that had paralyzed Peter vanished and he hopped to his feet quickly before chasing after his friend. Time seemed nonexistent as they raced in the glow of an autumn sun. They continued their game until they were damp with sweat and tumbled into the fallen leaves with uproarious laughter. By now, Eilonwy's braid had come undone, her wild hair falling across her face and wrapping around her arms. Peter chuckled softly and rolled over to brush the tendrils back behind her ears, receiving a soft smile in return. A dreamy look was cast upon her face and instantly, she was irresistible. Cupping her cheek, he leaned down to press his forehead against hers. His other hand skated down her neck, across her chest and abdomen, and lightly gripped her waist. His lips were drawn towards hers but before he could kiss her, something else suddenly captured his attention.
"What about the battle? And the witch?" he whispered breathlessly.
Eilonwy furrowed her brows as she leaned her head back to better view him. "What battle? What witch?" she asked in genuine confusion. Peter released her from his grasp and laid back beside her in the leaves, staring up at the clouds in absolute bewilderment. Perhaps it all was just a dream: the winter, the witch, the lion, the war. Perhaps everything he had ever lived thus far was a dream, including his time in London, and everything that ever was had occurred in Narnia. Perhaps there was never a time when he wasn't a king.
Eilonwy propped herself up on her elbows, glancing over at him in concern before rolling cautiously onto her side and taking Peter's hand in hers. "No more talk of war, love. This is our time now" she murmured softly. Her words, though uncharacteristic, somehow soothed him and the young king sighed in relief. Satisfied, a soft smile graced Eilonwy's lips as she reached forward and caressed his cheek. Her soft touch sent a jolt of pleasure through his veins and he closed his eyes with a satisfied smile at the sensation. However, once his eyes shut, everything turned black and the warm sunlight had faded for the chill of the dawn. Eilonwy's touch disappeared. The leaves beneath him softened into blankets wrapped around his body. Blinking awake, Peter was back in his tent alongside Edmund...but they weren't alone.
With a gasp, the knight quickly drew his sword and pointed it toward the strange being. Edmund, now awake, glanced to his brother frantically as the dryad before them raised a leafy hand in surrender.
"Be still, my princes. I come in peace. However, I bring grave news from your sisters" she explained in her echoing voice. Her words quickly engulfed Peter in panic, lowering his sword slowly as he awaited her elaboration. Edmund inched himself upright in his hammock, drawing his knees to his chest as he paid one more glance to his older brother. Averting her eyes, the dryad continued sadly, "The great Aslan was murdered upon the stone table last night, by witness of your sisters."
The incredible words lingered in the air for moments on end, turning the boys numb at their impact. "How?" Peter choked out. His hands trembled as he sat up, trying to appear as regal and authoritative as one possible can while sitting in a hammock. His mind scrambled to piece together what was now to become of the matter at hand. He had concerned himself so profusely with the safety of others, he never thought to protect the one being he was certain could protect himself. Now Aslan was gone and Peter had nowhere to turn. He was completely on his own.
The dryad was very obviously pained by the knight's questioning, averting her eyes and shaking her head sadly. "By knife of the White Witch, Jadis, or so it is told" she replied softly. Her leaves trembled, but both Peter and Edmund knew it was not in response to the breeze.
Pulling his knees tight against his chest, Edmund tried to make sense of the dryad's words, to calculate the truth. He may have only just met the magnificent beast but a deep, muted part of him already felt as if he had known Aslan for a lifetime. Even worse, though, was the hazy realization approaching him in the darkness. His mind harkened back to that afternoon, Jadis's words echoing in his ears: His blood is my property. That boy must die on the Stone Table, as is tradition. The witch may have renounced her claim on Edmund's blood but that didn't mean she was cheated out what she was owed. The puzzle pieces all aligned. Aslan sacrificed himself to save Edmund. The lion's death was all his fault. A sickening bout of nausea immediately seized Edmund's stomach.
Drawing in a deep breath, Peter furrowed his brows in deep thought before turning his gaze back upon their messenger. "You are excused" he commanded and the dryad disappeared quickly. A weighted sadness enveloped the room as the Pevensie brothers sat in silence for a few unending moments.
"I guess we ought to tell the others" Edmund then suggested, breaking their silence. Peter looked up at his brother and gave a single nod before they both rose from their beds, burdened with an indescribable task. The morning air was relatively cool and reeked of ash and breakfast meat. Fauns and centaurs were already sharpening swords and polishing shields in preparation for the battle ahead and a lump rose in Peter's throat. As he and his brother approached Aslan's men, something tugged at the eldest's chest and he glanced back towards Eilonwy's tent solemnly.
"Ed, you go on ahead. I have something I need to take care of first" Peter explained. Edmund looked from his brother ot the tent and back again with great suspicion but replied with merely a nod before disappearing. Now that he was alone, a crushing weight began to envelope the young knight but he mustered his strength in the stead of responsibility. Sneaking back into his tent, he snatched the velvet sack from under his pillow and tucked it behind his back. The flaps of Eilonwy's tent billowed open at the mercy of the breeze and he peeked inside to find her fast asleep. Relieved, he tiptoed into the tent, slowly lifted the lid of her box, and planted the sack inside.
Drawing in a sharp inhale, Peter gazed upon the box sadly for only a moment before turning his attention to the sleeping huntress. Her messy hair fell like a tangled crown about her head, stray curls painting her pale face. She had returned to her usual self, papery skin and bony figure, but deep in slumber she seemed much more benign than she had the night before. Without hesitation, he gingerly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and chuckled softly as she wrinkled her nose, her eyes slowly blinking awake to view him. At first, in her drunken state, she sighed softly and the corners of her lips turned upward into a delicate smile. Once she fully regained her consciousness, however, whatever sweet disposition she had portrayed was quickly replaced with her usual whiskey-strong wit. She sat bolt upright, eyes squinting into a glare, as she swatted Peter's hand away from her.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Get out!" she commanded, reaching for her sword. Peter lunged forward to grip her wrist in an effort to stop her, calling her name to capture her attention. When he finally did, she noticed a sadness in his eyes that immediately silenced her. It was a very distinct breed of sadness, the kind of that paints someone's face when something has recently gone very, very wrong. Her heart constricted her throat and her fingers twitched. "P-Peter...what's happened....?" she asked slowly, quietly.
Peter pursed his lips and tried to muster the strength to tell her, his blue eyes growing glossy. Sucking in a deep breath, he finally choked out, "Aslan is dead."
YOU ARE READING
TEMPATATION
FantasyAfter endless years of bitter cold, Eilonwy had given up hope on the long foretold prophecy- that two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve would venture from a faraway land to save Narnia from it's eternal winter. However, when she finds herself fa...
