Daggers of Ice

Chapter 9

The Northern Lands.

Arianna.

Arianna looked over the heads of those assembled before her as they chattered, alone on her throne she sat, with her chin resting in her hand.

Across all those heads, her gaze met Edmund's. Dark and probing.

And she deliberately pulled her eyes from him.

And in her minds eye she saw him differently; a long-distant memory that she had almost forgotten.

A son of Adam, perhaps two or three years older than herself. Never before had she seen a human, so she watched him from the shadows. She saw him; alone and frightened. Little more than a boy; used as a mere tool.

When Adams flesh and Adams, sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done.

They were the words that the sorceress so feared. She could not help but be curious about the young boy who Jadis spoke about with such endearment and adoration. It was strange she thought: that Jadis would treat such a young creature with such cruelty and seemed to love him at the same time. Arianna did not understand it. She did not hope to.

But it was no longer innocence in his eyes. He understood what it was he had done. He had betrayed his family, swayed by promises of wealth and power. Swayed by the promise to be more.

So she had watched him from the shadows. The young boy with sad brown eyes who was little more than a prisoner in the witch's castle. For he had entered willingly. He could not leave. Not until the Empress freed him.

Her heart had reached to him when those full lips had trembled when he thought none were watching. She had watched, her heart beating too fast, wanting nothing more than to be able to hug him.

She had always been told that emotions were bad; that you weren't meant to feel them; that it was a weakness.

But she did in that moment. She could not help it.

Arianna almost snorted as somewhere in the crowd laughter arose.

Little had changed since she was that young girl, trying so desperately.

...

Cair Paravel.

Peter.

They had been enjoying a picnic in the rare winter's sun, sitting in the gardens. Lucy had been regaling them with yet another tale of her adventures with Mr Tumnus and Susan had teased her, telling her she needed to find a man that did not mind her spending so much time with the faun.

Lucy had flamed red and had been spluttering protested when Asura had approached them.

Behind them, two of her guards had been leading a man with ice of piercing blue, with the palest hair that Peter thought he had ever seen.

A northman.

And the man had fallen to his knees, bowing to the king and queens. And then with little hesitation he began weaving them a tale of lies and deception, of murders and massacres.

All in the name of Arianna of Charn.

His former queen.

Peter had blinked then. She had not named herself a queen when she had been captured by Edmund.

Before she had captured him.

He looked down at the man who knelt before him, his summer blue eyes clouded. The man was as pale as parchment, one who saw little sun, dressed in heavy furs and dark leather. His starlight colour hair shot out in every direction, flecked with miniscule snowflakes. His breath came heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly.