#t: futgt c: eight

[temptation-narnia-chronicles]

From Upon the Golden Thrones

Episode 8: The Parlor

     Breathe. Ironic how something so essential could be so impossible. Shades of blue and green and purple swirled and blurred, the ocean beckoning her beneath it's waves. Trapping her below the surface. Flooding her lungs. Dark hair shackled her, tangling around her limbs and making it impossible for her to move. She was desperate, screaming for air, fighting against the current but the ocean was a ruthless competitor and would not let her free. As her vision shifted out of focus, her mind cloudy, she sunk deeper and deeper, engulfed in the darkness.

     The further she fell, the more she began to make out voices echoing in her ears. Fragmented sentences laced with joy and pain and horror, but completely incomprehensible like the way everything sounds when you're just slowly waking from a long and deep sleep. She could, however, identify familiarities in tone and accent: the strong brogue of her father, the gentle carress of a mother's whisper, the reassuring words of a boy who was pining for her hand. Out of the black burst a bright white light, blinding and brilliant, illuminating a large pair of double doors surrounded by flowers. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow about the faces floating in front of her. Are you ready? one asked softly, twirling around behind her to fix something upon her head. This is the happiest day of your life, said another.      The doors burst open with a swell of music, revealing a gutwrenchingly gaudy scene. Spanned out before he was the parlor smothered in flowers and crowded with dignitaries. At the end of a long aisle, in front of the large windows overlooking the sea, stood High King Peter the Magnificent. A strong grasp took hold of her arm, looking up to see none other than her father smiling down upon her, though it was not a smile of genuine pride. Rather, it was forced with undertones of disappointment. You could've become so much more than a man's wife, his voice echoed, disconnected from his body.       A lump rose in her throat, heart racing, her feet moving her down the aisle against her will. The music grew louder and less uniform, as if a line of static was running through it. Millions of eyes stared at her, some of which she recognized immediately. Her mother watched with hands folded and an unreadable expression upon her face. Varying tones of disgust and romance flickered across those of her sisters. And upon Peter's face sat a disgustingly childish grin, unrealistically wide and far too excited, as if he was hopped up on acid or had needles injected into his jaw.       The closer she grew to the altar, the more overwhelmed she became with dread. Desperation strangled her, knowing that if she could control her legs, she would sprint as far as she could before dropping dead in the middle of the woods. But alas, she had zero control and therefore was trapped enacting the events of this horrifying scene. Her father released her from his grip, backing away beside the rest of her family, as Peter gripped her hands in his. Together forever, he whispered, leaning in as if to kiss her on the cheek. Ice ran down her spine.       Aslan, standing before them, roared tremendously, bearing his sharp white teeth, before speaking. If anyone has reason to believe these two shouldn't be married, speak now or forever hold your peace, he announced. The words tangled in Eilonwy's throat but no matter how hard she tried, they couldn't break free. Much to her relief, she didn't need to.       We object! a chorus of voices rang from the hallway. The double doors swung open and a congregation of strange and unusual creatures filtered through. Among them was Lord Lemuel, eyes black and hollow from his blinding experience. He stumbled forward drunkenly, seizing Eilonwy by the waist and pulling her against his pelvis. We have unfinished business to attend to, he growled, digging his veiny hands into her flesh. Nobody seemed phased by his lewd behavior, not even Peter. A sudden, strong cramp then seized Eilonwy's stomach, breaking free of Lemuel's grasp to fall upon her hands and knees. She wanted to scream but could only manage a hoarse squeak. An invisible vise tightened around her entire abdomen as she writhed on the floor, her body busting open. Blood pooled at her hips, staining the lace of her tight dress bright red. Sweat beaded on her brow as she gripped at the fabric in sheer pain, her horror only emphasized by everyone's cold, blank stares. Not even Peter would help her.       Finally, the pain subsided as she felt something slither out of her. Gasping for breath, she tossed her head back and wept only to discover a slimy creature crawling up her chest: a baby. A shriek broke free from her lips as she overheard a voice coo, She looks just like you!       The first of many, another voice erupted, unmistakably King Lune's, as he broke out in booming laughter. The infant tugged at Eilonwy's dress and hair, eyes wide and nearly demonic. A blood curdling wail broke from it's lips, as if someone was murdering it, as it then split in half and multipled until a hoard of children were surrounding her, pulling at every square inch of body and demanding her for nourishment and affection.       Nothing is more attractive than a woman whose created life, Lemuel's voice rang in her ears, his hands sliding down her chest from behind. Eilonwy wanted to swat him away but her arms were weighed down by the needy grip of infants.       You'll make an amazing mother, Peter's voice then spoke as he nestled himself between her legs. Her sisters laughed uncontrollably, chanting cruel words of how Eilonwy will never make anything of herself, as King Lune's laughter continued to shake through the parlor along with the grating music that by now had become nothing but horrific noise.       Then, in one fell swoop, it all paused. Aslan's roar shook the entire castle, plagued with pain as he began to transform. His jaw separated and peeled backwards, his tongue twisting into the face of a woman who rose up from his throat like a phoenix, droplets of saliva hardening into crystals around her neck and upon her head. Eilonwy recognized the being in an instant: Jadis.       How rude of you, Eilonwy, dear, to have forgotten my invitation, she hissed, tilting the huntress's face upward. If only there was some way to repay you for your ignorance. A sly grin spread across her face as she drew her wand from behind her back, jamming the tip against the marble flooring. In an instant, everything began to decompose. Flesh rotted and fell from bodies, eyes rolling to the backs of heads and mouths hanging open wildly. Piles of bones littered the floor, soaked in puddles of blood. Faces both new and old had diminished into mere skeletons. And as for you, Jadis then announced, gripping Eilonwy by the neck and raising her up above her head. It's a shame you won't just die like the rest of them!       With a piercing shatter, Eilonwy's body was launched through the central window and propelled toward a black, monstrous sea. Deep down, the worst part was knowing that she would more than likely survive regardless of what beasts lurked below. She sucked in a deep breath, clenching her eyes shut tight as she broke through the surface and snapped awake in her own bed.       It took a few moments for her to check over herself, ensure that all of her limbs were in tact and that she had not, in fact, suffered the horrors of childbirth. Her entire body was drenched in a cold sweat, her chest aching and heart pounding. "It was just a dream...it was just a dream....a stupid, pathetic, fucking dream" she whispered to herself, half relieved and half furious. It may have just been a dream but that didn't mean it wasn't a constant possibility. She swung the windows open for some fresh air, leaning her arms and head out as if she was a seasick sailor. The moon shown brightly overhead, somehow calming in it's constant presence. It seemed significantly larger this night, as if it was nearing the earth in an effort to wrap Eilonwy in it's soothing light. She remembered many a night spent under it's glow, curled up in the snow or sprawled upon a tree branch. She slept wherever she damn well pleased. She had no rules or obligations. Nobody expected a thing from her. She was a lone leaf riding the breeze across the Narnian landscape. Her heart ached for those days back, for the bite of winter and blissful autonomy. It had been so long since she felt that freedom. She never should've taken advantage of it, should have clung to it before it all slipped away. Luxuries were fine but nothing could compare to the thrill of the wild.       The breath of autumn flowed through the halls as summer's leaves began to decay. It was almost as if a sense of happiness and rejuvination washed over the castle as the air cooled and the once green world turned red. For the Pevensies, they were just happy they didn't have to return to school.       "Bow down for King Edmund!" the just announced, brandishing his sword in the doorway. Peter peered up from his paperwork, a chuckle breaking past his lips. In one swift movement, he leapt from his chair and drew his own sword.       "En garde!" he shouted back, thrusting his blade toward his brother. They parried across the grand hall all the way toward the balcony, where Eilonwy was sitting disconnected from everyone else."You think you're a better swordsman than the High King himself?"       "Oh, I know I'm a better swordsman than the High King!" Edmund jested back.  Peter darted in and tapped Edmund on the shoulder, a sly smile spreading across his face. Susan and Lucy laughed from the nearby table, watching with all the spectacle and awe of the audience of an infamous sports match.       Edmund's smile dropped immediately, pursing his lips and furrowing his brows as he lifted his sword above his head and swung wildly. Susan gasped and clasped a hand over her mouth, watching as the blade connected with a suit of armor on display. Pieces of silver broke apart and clattered onto the floor.       "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Eilonwy shrieked, storming inside to assess the damage. Dark circles lined her eyes, her complexion reduced to a sickly pallor.       Peter gazed back at her with wide eyes, panting, as Edmund clamored to clear up the debris. "We were just having a bit of fun, but things got kind of out of hand..." Peter replied sheepishly.       "But nobody got hurt, and that's the important thing" Susan chimed in. Eilonwy grimaced, unamused.       "I swear, I get no fucking peace around here" she muttered to herself, stomping out of the room.       "What's gotten into her?" Edmund whispered as soon as she left. Peter shook his head.       "I don't know. Ever since King Lune visited, she's been acting strange but it seems as though it's only gotten worse since after Kronne" Peter explained. He had hoped that their comparably quiet month and a half at the castle would revive everyone's depleting energy, and for the most part he was correct. Everyone else was bright-eyed and full of joy. Everyone except Eilonwy. "I ought to go talk to her later, see if she's alright."       "Yeah, you do that" Susan suggested, huffing as she turned her attention back to her work. Her ideas for the orphanage were coming along swimmingly, especially after meeting Peter's approval when she proposed the idea in parliament. She loved having her own little pet project to work on, one that she could complete at her own pace and feel individual pride for. Their newfound down-time was certainly appreciated, as well.       As Eilonwy barrelled down the hallway, her eyes fixed themselves on the parlor doors. Images from her dream flashed through her mind, sending a shiver down her spine. This was the way it always was: a strong unease taking hold of her at every pass. It had been one hundred years since she stepped behind those doors, one hundred years since the sun hit her through those windows and her bare feet walked across the marble floors. In their increased time spent at the castle, the Pevensies had taken quite a liking to the room. It was Susan's idea to open it up and inhabit it more frequently, and she and her sister very much enjoyed taking their tea there and admiring the sea. Peter, however, was the only one wary of the place. He knew of Eilonwy's history, of her trauma and tragedy, and the thought of stepping foot inside such a place seemed like a disservice to the woman he so loved.       Secretly, however, Peter wasn't the only one lost in deep thought about the parlor. It was no secret that Eilonwy refused to step foot in the room, but it was a mystery as to why. Edmund was the most observant of this, eyeing her suspiciously as she'd trot nervously past. He wanted answers, an explanation as to what was making her so uneasy. Perhaps then he could piece together the mystery of what was going on inside that barricaded brain and even who she really was as a person, as well.       Susan rose from her seat as the grandfather clock chimed 4pm, straightening her skirt and motioning for Lucy to join her for afternoon tea. "Ed, Pete, would you like to join us?" the valiant asked. The boys didn't normally accompany them, finding tea time to be more of a lady's task, but this didn't stop Lucy from asking every day regardless.       "Thanks, Lu, but I've got some paperwork to do" Peter excused, tilting his head to the stacks of documents surrounding him. Lucy nodded in understanding, turning her attention to Edmund.       "I'll be there in a bit, Lucy. I've got some things to take care of" he replied. Susan eyed him suspiciously but said nothing of it. Once they departed, Edmund strolled down the hall toward the sparring grounds. Peering around the corner, he found Eilonwy racing about with sword in hand, just as he expected her to be. She seemed to utilize the field much more frequently these days, and manage her weapons with an even greater passion. Yet another strange but fascinating aspect of this wayward woman.       Upon returning to his chamber, Edmund swung his window open and chimed a bell he had installed upon the sill. Within minutes, Sallowpad came swooping in obediently. "Good afternoon, your majesty! How can I be of service to you today?"       "Sallowpad, I need you to do me a favor" Edmund replied. Sallowpad leaned in, intrigued. "I need you to discretely up the surveillance on the sparring grounds. Let me know if Eilonwy leaves, alright?" The raven had no idea what Edmund had planned but he didn't protest. With a nod, he glided out the window and disappeared into the trees.       Sucking in a deep breath, Edmund fixed his window and sped down the hall as quietly as possible. He figured that even with Sallowpad keeping watch, his time was negotiable. He would have to work quickly and efficiently to complete his task.       Eilonwy's chambers were a mystery but the moment Edmund slipped inside, a wave of knowing washed over him, as if he was visiting a historic battlefield where many had lost their lives. Everything about the place appeared old and well-loved, from the tatters and frays in the blankets to the antique brush and ribbons on the dresser. Stepping into her room was like stepping back in time, temporally disorienting. Tiptoeing around the floor's mess, he slowly tugged one of the drawers open and began inspecting inside for some kind of clue. The top two drawers proved unsuccessful, finding nothing but wrinkled clothes stained with age-old mud. The third drawer, however, piqued his interest considerably. Beneath a pile of dark dresses was a tiny leatherbound book. He admirably ran his fingers over the apple tree etched into the cover before flipping through the yellowed pages.       It seems as though I'll never escape this, read one page in Eilonwy's signature messy hand. Nobody seems to think I'll make anything of my life. I don't even think Papa has much faith in me. He won't even let me in battle-- real battle. Says it's no place for a young girl like me. More like it's no place for young girls like Helene and Amalthea. They're far too gentle and proper to face the wages of war. They'd never survive. I, however...       Another page spoke rather cruelly of a man named Rolf, whom Edmund inferred was a horrible man with horrible values. Though her handwriting was shaky and smudged here, Edmund inferred the worst of this man as a dizzying array of mental images flickered through his mind. Mental images that, unfortunately, weren't totally unfamiliar.       Before he could read further, a frantic caw echoed from outside the window. Edmund struggled to hide the book, preparing to escape, but within seconds the bedroom door swung wide open and there stood Eilonwy. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?!" she screamed, charging forward and snatching the book from his hands. Her grip was strong as she grabbed him by the forearm and lifted him to his feet, staring him down with wild eyes. "Who do you think you are to rummage through someone's personal property? Hmm?"       "I-I was just--!" Edmund stammered, terrified, but the huntress interrupted him before he could get another word out.       "I don't give a fuck what you were doing! Get out! Now!" she demanded, tossing him toward the doorway. Edmund stumbled into the hall, regaining his footing, but wasn't about to leave so easily.       "Listen, I'm worried about you! We all are! I was just...I was just looking to see if maybe I could find a hint as to what's wrong" Edmund explained. Eilonwy immediately paused, taking a moment to chew over the just's words. Maybe her troubles weren't as discrete as she had hoped they were. No matter. That didn't give Edmund any right to snoop.       Clutching the book to her chest, she slowly lifted her gaze to Edmund. There was something in her eyes that wasn't quite right, a vulnerability peeking through the cracks in her hard exterior. "Well, Edmund" she murmured softly, "I appreciate your concern but I don't need you looking after me. Or anyone for that matter. Now, if you'd please be so kind as to leave."       Edmund bowed his head and backed away slowly, watching as Eilonwy slammed the door in his face. Though it was midday, the hallway immediately seemed entrenched in absolute darkness. With an exasperated sigh, he kicked at the floor and retreated to the parlor for tea with his sisters.       Eilonwy propped her window open and let the cool night air flow through the room. The stars seemed especially bright tonight and for the first time in a while, the hint of a smile touched her lips. It felt like home. Shaking hands grasped the novel on her vanity and opened to a random page as she slumped into the nearest chair. She didn't quite care for whatever she had grabbed, nor did she care for reading much at all, but she just needed something engaging enough to distract her. She hoped whatever mundane tale was before her would either help her forget her troubles or bore her into a much needed sleep. Either way, she couldn't lose.       As she forced herself through the first couple paragraphs, however, she realized there was a third possibility she hadn't accounted for: interruption. Try as she might, when the knocks at her door failed to quit, she had no choice but to answer. Her stomach flipped when she found Peter on the other side.       "What do you want, Pete? I'm a little busy here" she asked rudely, waving the book in front of his face. The High King was unamused.       "Well, put a bookmark in it then because I need to speak with you" he replied, pushing past her into the room. A spark of offense flashed across her face as she shut the door and trudged back inside.       "Whatever this is about, could it not have waited til morning?" she said. Peter shook his head, seating himself on the edge of her bed. An invisible hand gave her throat a quick, strong squeeze.       "I suppose it could've, but I'd rather settle things now" he said back. "Eilonwy, I'm worried about you."       "Yeah, you and everyone else in Narnia" she replied sarcastically.       Peter groaned, leaning forward and taking his hands in hers. "I'm being serious, Ellie. I'm genuinely concerned about you."       Eilonwy snatched her hands back and rolled her eyes. "You have nothing to be concerned about, Peter. I'm perfectly fine" she lied. He didn't believe her for a second. After a few beats of silent staring, she added, "What makes you think I'm worth so much worry anyways?"       "Oh, where do I begin?" Peter groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. "You haven't been eating lately. You've gotten so thin. I doubt you've been sleeping very well, either, since you look like a raccoon with those horrible dark circles. And ever since King Lune visited, you've been acting different. I know there's something wrong that you're not telling me, Ellie, but whatever it is, I want you to be able to trust in me. Confide in me like I do you. Please, Ellie. Just tell me what the hell is going on."       A sigh escaped Eilonwy's lips as she leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers into her temples. "Peter, you worry far too much. I'm perfectly fine. Just please..."       "No, Eilonwy, I'm not leaving until you give me an answer. A real answer" he protested, once again taking her hand in his.       She narrowed her eyes in his direction, frustrated with his perseverance. "Nothing is wrong, Pete! And even if it was, why is it such a big deal to you?"       "Because, Ellie!" he exclaimed, "I care about you! I thought you'd be happy here back at Cair Paravel with my family, returning home and spending time with us like you have, but you don't seem very happy and that concerns me. I want to make it better. I want to make you happy."       "Peter, it's not your job to make me happy" Eilonwy replied but the High King shook his head.       "Yes, as a matter of fact, it is. That is exactly my job. More than even ruling Narnia, my job is to make you happy" he replied. Eilonwy's heart began racing in her chest as his grip on her hand tightened. She recognized the glimmer in his eyes, hinting at the kinds of things that were to come next. The warning lights flashing as the train barrelled down the tracks. This time, she was powerless to stop it. "I know you don't think it's my job to make you happy or worry about you or even look after you but it is. It is because...because I love you, Eilonwy."       The moment the words fell from his lips, Eilonwy's entire body went numb. Her head spun and her limbs felt like jelly and her tongue was entirely too big for her mouth. "Y-you...you what...?" she croaked.       "I love you" he repeated, a grin spreading across his face. All the tension he had built up over the past couple months, all the restraint, instantly vanished in a massive swell of relief. "Eilonwy, I'm in love with you!" he laughed, leaning closer. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek, hoping to kiss her, but she broke free of his grasp and jumped to her feet before he could.       The entire room was spinning and her stomach was flipping in every direction imaginable. Peter watched her a moment before standing up and slowly approaching her, a tender expression upon his face. He wanted to hug her and kiss her and celebrate his confession with her. He was in love and finally admitting it felt incredible. As he swept in to wrap his arms around her, however, Eilonwy spun him around and shoved him out the door, mumbling something about it being far too late and needing to wake up early. As her bedroom door slammed in his face, the novelty quickly faded and he began to obsessively retrace the moment in hopes of remembering whether she said she loved him back. In his outrageous excitement, the whole thing passed in a happy blur but now he was second guessing himself. Unless...maybe she really was exhausted. Maybe she was just preparing to settle into bed when he barged in and interrupted her routine. Maybe she was too tired to say she loved him back.       From behind the locked door, Eilonwy slid onto the floor and attempted to make herself as small and insignificant as possible. Peter's words echoed through her brain like a broken record, distorting with each replay. I love you, Eilonwy. Eilonwy, I'm in love with you. I love you, Eilonwy. Eilonwy, I'm in love with you. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Peter's face: that glimmer in his eyes and wide grin across his lips. The picture of sheer happiness. Deep down, she knew none of this was nearly all that surprising. She knew Peter had had feelings for her since the very beginning, since their hands brushed against one another's in the light of a campfire that first night together. She could feel the electricity between them, the rising tension that took hold during their journey. She wasn't even sure if she felt the same way. By now, she couldn't quite comprehend how she felt. The energy between her and the king was undeniable, the way he ignited that strange and disgustingly satisfying feeling in her. Warm and tender and full of purpose. But romance was far more than just good feelings and carefree escapades. It was compromise and commitment, promises of togetherness in the form of tied hands and locked lips. Peter was still so young, so inexperienced. So naive to the harsh cruelties of the world. She already had a decent idea of his pie-in-the-sky ideas, his hopes of marriage and babies and ruling side by side. The thought of so much domestication was dizzying. Truthfully, Eilonwy still barely even felt like a human let alone prepared for the responsibility of becoming a wife, a mother, a queen. The world was spinning far too fast and her brain felt like it was about to explode from her head. In one swift motion, she fell upon her mattress, cocooning herself in her blankets, and shoved her pillow over her head. Even in sleep, she found no respite.       Sunlight filtered through the parlor's spotless windows as the Pevensies embraced the space for yet another bright afternoon. Peter and Susan were enthralled in rather serious paperwork, meanwhile Edmund and Lucy found great joy in a game of chess. As Peter skimmed through and signed some legal documents, his free hand skated down to rest gently upon Eilonwy's knee. An uneasy smile touched her lips as she forced herself to focus on the book before her. Though he knew this was no doubt difficult for her, he was incredibly proud of her bravery for finally facing her fear and stepping foot in a room full of such horrible memories. As she read, however, her ears suddenly picked up on a curious sound in the distance.       "Do you hear that...?" she asked softly, glancing to each of the Pevensies. They gazed back at her, bewildered. "That noise, do you hear it? It's almost like some sort of...clanging."       The royals strained their ears for the faint sound. It took a few moments but soon each of them could hear it, too. Then, suddenly, a scream. Peter's eyes widened as he jolted from his seat and rushed to the door. The clanging increased in volume. Lucy clutched her sister's hand, a strange sense of fear rising from within her. Edmund rose to join his brother, remaining a few feet behind for safety. Susan straightened her back, eyes locked on her brothers as she awaited their response. Peter gently pressed his ear against the door, hoping to make sense of the commotion, hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his sword. Screams echoed down the hallway, the ruckus growing louder and louder until...silence.       "Maybe it's gone..." Lucy whispered. Eilonwy drew her knees to her chest, her heart pounding. A sickening sense of deja vu overtook her. The silence dragged on until Peter decided perhaps there was just a rat in the kitchen or something else equally mundane.       "I'm sure it's nothing" Peter assured. "Let's just all take a deep breath and relax." Susan nodded minutely. The tension began to lift. They all returned to their activities. All was well.       Everything happened so quickly and yet somehow also in slow motion. Eilonwy struggled to focus her vision as her entire world crumbled around her. She was frozen in place, kneeling on the floor awestruck. The double doors burst open, shaking the entire building, as an army of misfits and delinquents poured inside. Peter's eyes widened but he barely had time to react. A mesmerizing figure, pale and piercing, skated a hand down the High King's abdomen and stabbed her blade into his chest. A sickening grin spread across her face as her eyes turned jet black, whispering, "Long live the king." Jadis.       Peter collapsed to the floor, blood spilling from the wound. Lucy rushed to save him but was instantly seized by the strong grip of a minotaur, quickly binding her hands behind her back and stealing her cordial from her belt. The vial shattered on the ground, red juice spilling across the marble floor and mingling with that of Peter's blood. A lump rose into Eilonwy's throat, her heart beating against her chest so violently she was certain she was going to have a heart attack.       Tears streamed down the other's faces as Jadis's henchman tied them up and threw them onto the floor. The witch eyed each of the royals one by one as she grew closer. With a satisfied grin, she knelt down beside Susan and stalled a moment to caress a lock of her soft chestnut hair. "What a beautiful young girl" Jadis murmured before lifting her knife and stabbing the gentle straight in the chest. Lucy shrieked, struggling to break free of her bonds, but it was no use. A yelp escaped Susan's lips as the blood poured down her dress.       Eyeing the valiant, Jadis then skated toward little Lucy with hunger in her eyes. Gripping the back of the girl's head, the witch gazed upon her admirably before slicing the littlest Pevensie's neck. Lucy's head fell backwards and bobbed at a disgustingly inhumane angle. Next came Edmund, whose entire body had fell into a terrifying chill at the thought of once more revisiting the woman he had such history with.       "Edmund, dear" Jadis cooed, gripping his chin so as to force him to look upon her. "You could've had so much more" she whispered, lunging her blade into the exact some spot on his stomach where she had impaled him during Beruna. The just king gasped for breath, fighting the overwhelming sensation, but Jadis had stabbed her knife deeper now than before. In a matter of minutes, he, too, had drifted.       From the middle of the room, Eilonwy's body quaked with terror at all she had just witnessed. In mere moments, the entire Pevensie family had been viciously murdered before her very eyes. Her stomach churned as Jadis then turned her gaze to the huntress, grinning triumphantly. "You seem to have quite a talent for getting in the middle of these sorts of situations, don't you, Eilonwy, dear?" she said as she approached. "Not once but twice now I have killed all those you hold dearest to you, and in the same exact room no less! Oh, the irony!"       A low growl tangled in Eilonwy's throat as she clenched her fists at her side, staring up at this devil of a woman. She wasn't sure if she wanted to scream and fight or curl up in the puddles of blood and completely break. "You...had no right...!" she finally said through clenched teeth.       "Oh, my dear, sweet, little Eilonwy, I think you misunderstand the situation. You see, this land rightfully belongs to me and therefore it is my right to exterminate any and all who try to usurp it from me. Does that make sense?" she explained condescendingly, leaning down and sliding an icy hand down the girl's cheek. "If only you could go with them. I'm sure Narnia would love to see proof of your mortality. Such a shame we have to tell all those little white lies."       An unadulterated rage began bubbling up from within Eilonwy's chest, collecting energy from every cell inside of her body. "You had...no...right!" Eilonwy repeated, this time stronger and more passionately than before.       "Perhaps you'll never truly understand" Jadis replied, half to herself. "Unless...maybe we can prove your mortality, Eilonwy. What do you think? Should we try?" Without giving her a chance to reply, Jadis swiped her blade across Eilonwy's stomach in one swift movement. The witch stood over her, satisfied, as she watched the girl gasp and tumble to the floor, the contents of her stomach spilling out before her. Tears spilled down her cheeks as her eyes landed right on Peter's lifeless face, mustering all her energy to reach out and take his dead hand in hers. The moment Jadis noticed this, however, she growled in displeasure and launched a hard kick toward Eilonwy's disemboweled abdomen. Instantly, everything went black.       Peter tugged his robe tighter around his waist as he shuffled back to bed, glass of water in hand. As he passed Eilonwy's room, however, he swore he heard the quiet sounds of struggle. His heart instantly leapt into his throat, fearing the worst, as he set his glass on a little table nearby and knocked on her door softly. "Eilonwy? Are you okay in there?" No answer. He knocked again, fear increasing, but again was met with silence. Visions of what happened with Lemuel and her near-death experience on Kronne flashed through his mind. If she was in danger, he couldn't afford to lose her. He couldn't risk ignoring her pain.       Slamming the door open, the High King found Eilonwy bawling and writhing in bed. "Eilonwy? Eilonwy!" he shouted, darting to her side. He cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him in the darkness.       "P-Peter?!" she wailed, barely comprehensible.       "Ellie, it's me. I'm right here. Everything's alright. Everything's going to be alright" he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. Eilonwy squirmed in Peter's grasp, her hot tears seeping thorugh his nightshirt as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. His lips grazed her ear as he whispered soft reassurances to her, trying everything in his power to calm her, but deep down she was terrified. If she had the strength, she would've broken free of his grasp and ran as far as her legs would carry her. Instead, she was absolutely exhausted as if she had just run a marathon on 45 minutes of sleep. Eventually, her wailing dwindled to mere whimpers as she slowly slipped out of consciousness. Peter refused to leave her side the entire night.       When she awoke the next morning, throat sore and eyes crusted shut, she was horrified to find Peter's hand resting on the small of her back. She rubbed her eyes and rolled over to catch him passed out on the other side of the bed. A tinge of panic struck her, leaping to her feet and quickly reaching beneath her nightgown for security's sake. All was well. She sighed and pressed her back against the wall, tilting her head toward the ceiling. She was treading very dangerous waters here and she wasn't so sure she liked where things were going. When Peter awoke shortly after, Eilonwy had disappeared.       "Rough night?" Edmund asked at breakfast. Peter scooted into the seat beside him and rubbed the sleep from his face.       "I guess" he yawned. Once his vision was focused enough, he scanned the room hoping Eilonwy had joined them. He was pleased to not only find her at the other end of the table, but appearing in better spirits than she had expressed in quite a long while. She was joking and laughing with Tumnus and the Beavers, eating all of her food with great fervor. It was almost as if the previous night had never happened, and all the nasty nights beforehand, too. While the others were delighted to see her so full of life again, Peter couldn't help but feel slightly suspicious. Nobody is cured of their ailments overnight. Or maybe she was fine all along. The past week had him seriously questioning his perception of reality.       "I'm glad to see Eilonwy is feeling better" Lucy smiled as she watched the girl sparring from the balcony. Susan nodded.       "I don't know if I've ever seen her this happy" she replied thoughtfully. They sipped their tea together and continued to chat about her, watching as Peter approached their friend.       "Nice to see you're feeling better" he commented, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. Eilonwy paused a moment, huffing a stray strand of hair from her face, and shrugged.       "Better than what?" she asked. "I told you before, Pete, I'm perfectly fine."       "But, I mean, last night..." he stammered in confusion.       "What about last night?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.       "You can't possibly say you don't remember, I mean...you were so...I just...you were having a nightmare?" he said.       Eilonwy furrowed her brows and sheathed her sword, approaching slowly to place the back of her hand on Peter's forehead. "Are you feeling alright, Pete?"       "Wait, what? Of course I'm feeling alright! I should be asking the same of you" the magnificent stammered, swatting her hand away. "You were hysterical last night, clinging to me and crying yourself to sleep. Remember? I spent the night comforting you."       "Sounds like you had a rather vivid dream there, Peter" she replied, crossing her arms. "Listen, whatever you saw or whatever you think you saw, it was nothing. It was all in your head. I'm perfectly fine. You've got nothing to worry about."       Peter averted his eyes and tried to recount the events of the night. She was so sure of herself, it made it hard to believe anything else was true. But if she was right and everything was just in his head, then how did he wake up in her bed? What really happened? He couldn't comprehend it. However, this was not the time or place for deep pondering. While he hated being dishonest, he nodded slowly and agreed that she was right, that it must have all been in his head, and that he was happy to see she was feeling so well regardless. As she watched him depart, Eilonwy sighed in relief and unsheathed her sword. Crisis averted.       Despite the smile and pleasant disposition she exuded, Eilonwy was not better. If anything, she was getting worse. Nightmares plagued her every night, she just learned to keep quiet about them. Even during the day, strong bouts of deja vu and anxiety seized her. Her mind was constantly running, pumping out thought after terrible thought. She tried to keep herself as busy as possible, sparring every afternoon and hoarding books from the library. What others considered being productive, she considered an attempt at distraction. No matter what she did, however, nothing could calm the waves of insanity that kept knocking into the shore.       Even worse, her terror passing that parlor increased tenfold. A part of her considered just barging in there once and for all, finally quieting those taunting thoughts. Perhaps if she just revisited the scene of the crime, then it would confirm to her the reality of her situation. The incident happened and her family was gone. There was no changing that. The sooner she made peace with that, the sooner she could move on with her life and finally be free of this horrible pain. As much as she romanticized the idea, she knew she knew she didn't have the strength to really do such a thing. No amount of sleep deprivation of alcohol-induced confidence could ever give her the strength to venture past those doors. Or so she thought.       In the comfort of her bed, she was suddenly jarred awake by a familiar voice calling to her. Eilonwy...Eilonwy, where are you? it echoed down the hallway, magnetizing. In a daze, Eilonwy peeled back the covers and began drunkenly swaying out of the room and right toward those fateful doors. The closer she grew, the louder the voice became until finally, she could hear it ringing from inside the parlor. Without hesitation, Eilonwy swung the doors open and stepped inside.       One of the large windows creaked slightly ajar, a soft autumn breeze flowing through the crack. Everything was exactly as Eilonwy had remembered: the pastel pink walls, the white brocade chairs, the sheer curtains framing every window. Portraits of her family still hung overhead, perfectly manicured faces and stiff poses with eyes cold and hollow. She saw her father standing tall, sword in hand, pride painting his gruff face. Her mother, poised and elegant with platinum hair piled high atop her head. Her sisters, cherubic and porcelain and pure. And then she saw herself. The outcast. The black sheep. Crooked teeth and tangled hair and dirtied skirts. An ink stain on an otherwise perfect painting. She remembered the exact day that portrait was painted. It had been so long.       A frigid air burst into the room, engulfing Eilonwy in panic. Suddenly, a phantom seized her entire body, paralyzing her as something cold and hard pressed to her throat. She knew who it was immediately. This was it. Revenge. Eilonwy would finally pay her dues. A blade to her throat. A slice. Blood. A cold, steely breath whispers, "Long live the princess."       A blood curdling shriek echoed through the castle, shrill enough to shatter windows. Peter sprinted out of his room, horror-stricken to find the parlor doors creaked open. He understood immediately. Rushing inside, he found Eilonwy's frail form crumpled onto the marble floor convulsing. A stream of staff, councilmen, and the other royals followed Peter, watching as he skidded to a halt beside his friend and wrapped her in his arms. Her shrieks nearly deafened him, flailing her arms with wild abandon, fists knocking Peter in the chest. He begged her to look at him, to breathe, shouting that everything was alright and nothing was going to hurt her, but had a hard time keeping his word. Patches of the floor were still stained pink with blood.       Susan clutched her chest as she watched the scene from a distance, having never seen anyone, let alone the huntress, quite so hysterical. It felt like stepping into a horror movie, watching doctors cart a young woman in a strait jacket off to a psych ward. If they were still in London, the gentle was sure that would be the case. But this wasn't London. This was Narnia and in Narnia, there were no mental institutions. There were no tranquilizers or laughing gas or sleeping pills. Even with Lucy's cordial at the ready, Susan knew not even that could fix Eilonwy's ailment. There was only one option, one person experienced enough for an illness of this magnitude. The longer Susan watched, the more she understood that he was their only choice. If they had any hope of healing Eilonwy, they would have to call on Aesop.

[temptation-narnia-chronicles]

From Upon the Golden Thrones

Episode 28: Captain’s Orders

               Peter sucked in a deep breath as he looked to his men. Papers sprawled across the floor, maps and charts and scribbled notes. They all had been up since dawn preparing for the battle ahead and discussing tactics until finally, they had made their decision.

               As they stood in the bitter cold preparing their steeds, Peter glanced over to find Tristan looking rather distraught. His chest rose and fell quickly, leading the king to believe his hands shook not with cold but with anxiety. Peter felt as if it was his duty to maintain his soldiers’ morale, so an uneasy face certainly called for attention. “You alright, Tristan?” he asked, sauntering over and patting his horse on the flank. Tristan snapped from his daze and nodded vigorously, though Peter could tell he was swallowing back fear. “You have nothing to worry about. Everything’s going to be alright!” the High King assured, though Tristan still seemed unconvinced.

               “How can you be so sure?” he asked. “We’re outnumbered in size and strength. They could take us down with minimal effort.”

               “They’re bigger and stronger than us, that’s true��� Peter began, “But we have one thing they don’t and that’s brains. We’ve got a foolproof strategy. There’s no way we can lose.” As he spoke, Tristan’s face grew paler and his eyes widened with shock. For a moment, Peter thought perhaps his words were having some strange effect on the boy but before he could ask, he was quickly interrupted by a grave voice from behind.

               “Where the hell do you all think you’re going?” he asked, tone cold and coarse. Peter turned to find none other than Captain Bone standing in the doorway of the tavern. “And what’s this ‘foolproof strategy’ you speak of, eh?”

               Peter furrowed his brows, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “And what importance is it for you to know?”

               “Well” Bone said, “These are my lands and I would prefer to be privy to all that goes on here.”

               “You mean my lands. You seem to constantly forget that this is still Narnian territory” Peter corrected.

               “And you seem to constantly forget I have more power here than you, your highness” Bone replied. His dark eyes were sharp and quick. Peter’s spine chilled.

               “I’m afraid we can’t waste any time explaining ourselves” he then spoke up. Anything to get out of this conversation.

               Bone crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Let me guess: you’re going to waltz into Harfang and deal with the giants yourselves, yeah?” The High King blinked a few times. He hadn’t expected Captain Bone to already know their plan. That didn’t matter, though. That was not going to stop him from carrying this out. Bone shook his head with a dark chuckle. “That’s not a foolproof plan, smartass. It’s a suicide mission.”

               “As if you can think of something better” Peter challenged.

               Who did this kid think he was? Peter’s lack of respect for the rugged man roused him greatly. “Your best plan of attack would be to wait it out. Let them come to us before making our move. We’d have the advantage attacking from our home grounds.”

               Peter scoffed. “And risk putting the residents of the northern border in danger?” he countered. “What you’re suggesting will kill far too many of our own men. I refuse to let any Narnians face unnecessary deaths. We need to attack the giants at the source.”

               “Have you ever been to Harfang, boy?” Bone then asked. “Have you ever seen the giants’ castle? You’ve got no idea what you’re up against. You go in there, you’re nothing but a spider to a bear. They’ll crush you in half a second, flat.” A sinking feeling came over the soldiers in those moments, Tristan especially. He knew he never should have agreed to this, even if he had no other choice. Peter tried his hardest to keep composure, but he could tell the captain’s words were planting unease in his men.  

               “Y-your highness, maybe…well, maybe Captain Bone has a point…?” Tristan finally spoke up. The High King glared back at him as if the young man had betrayed his authority.

               Bone smirked beneath his mask. “Seems like your army isn’t so confident in their leader anymore, your majesty” he remarked. The way that term fell from his lips—your majesty—made Peter squirm. Every reference to his title was a mockery to the Narnian royals as a whole. He eyed each of the soldiers for a moment longer before shaking his head and spreading his arms. “But who am I to say such a thing? After all, you are the High King. My word means nothing. It’s not my place nor my duty to stop you. If your desire is to send your men to early graves, then be my guest.” And with that, he turned and stepped foot back into the tavern.

               Peter stared at the door for a moment, eyes transfixed on the spot where Bone had stood, and pursed his lips. What the hell did he know, anyway? It wasn’t like Peter, the High King of Narnia, was going to listen to what some random stranger had to say. Or at least that’s what he wanted to believe. He didn’t want to be bothered by the captain’s words, but deep down he couldn’t get them out of his head. Had he really made such a terrible mistake? Was he really so stupid to not see the flaws in his plan? He didn’t want to abandon his decision because of what someone he barely knew had to say, but now he felt guilty going forward. He wanted to do everything he could to keep his men safe. He was responsible for them. Their fate was in his hands. He turned slowly to face them, scared of the expressions that would sit on their faces. He didn’t want to be met with fear and uncertainty. He didn’t want them to abandon his leadership. He cursed Bone under his breath for causing such uproar like this. Was it really so hard to just obey your leaders? What if Peter’s plan worked perfectly, and nothing bad happened—then what? Would Bone really think so highly of himself then? As his eyes landed on his men, Peter’s fears were realized. They looked just as nervous and hesitant as he expected them to. Tristan averted his eyes, the others grumbled among themselves. This was a disaster. Peter sucked in a deep breath. “Well, what do we do now?”

               He was open to new ideas. He welcomed any and all alternative plans his men may have thought up. The issue, however, was that none of them were skilled strategists. They didn’t have the experience or education that Peter had gained. He assumed that was why he was appointed the High King, or at least one of a handful of reasons. Civilized discussion soon turned to argument due in part by growing frustration. As the volume rose and the panic mounted, Peter realized more and more that there was perhaps only one option left. He didn’t want to resort to this, especially with the growing tension from the past twenty-four hours, but he was growing desperate. They couldn’t reach a mutual decision. They needed an outside opinion and there was only one person to ask for help.

               Rosalie was reorganizing the bottles of alcohol when Peter stepped foot inside. He hadn’t realized just how cold it was until he entered the warm womb of the tavern, the fire crackling in the back. The bar seemed different in the daylight—more like a cozy living room than a rousing rave. Hints of pine and cinnamon wafted through the air, and Peter was quickly reminded of Christmastime.

               He cleared his throat softly to get the she-minotaur’s attention, treading softly so as not to startle her as she was so prone to. She blinked and turned slowly, her cheeks blushing as she looked upon him. “Uh, hello, yes, what can I help you with?” she asked. There was a nervous energy surrounding her, and Peter wondered if she had social anxiety or if it was just an effect of being in his presence. He thought back to the night before, the way he swore she said he wasn’t supposed to be there. He still didn’t know what that meant, if that was even what she had really said. He would ask, but now was not the time. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

               “I’d like to request a conference with Captain Bone to discuss tactical matters” Peter requested. “It seems as though your manager has caused quite a stir among my army, and now none of us can come to an agreement on how to handle things.”

               “Oh…” Rosalie said softly. She cast her eyes downward, twiddling her thumbs nervously. “W-well, I’m not so sure…I mean, I wish—I don’t know…it’s, um…I’m unsure if I can make good on your request, sir…” she stammered and squeaked.

               “Why not?” Peter asked. He truly didn’t want to stress her out, but he could see her timidity becoming rather frustrating if she continued. He just wanted a simple, straightforward answer and if the answer was no, he wanted an explanation as to why.

               “I-I’m afraid Captain Bone isn’t one to really advise others” she states.

               “If he’s not the advisory type, then what the hell would you call his ruse from earlier?” Peter pressed.

               Rosalie hummed nervously, her left hoof beginning to shake against the floor. “C-Captain Bone is m-more of a commander than a counselor, you see…he’d rather give orders than suggestions. I don’t think you’d like that very much, sir.”

               “I can stand my ground” Peter replied.

               “He’ll get angry” Rosalie said. “He’s very unpleasant when he’s angry. It scares me ever so much, so…so please...please don’t instigate him.”

               “I don’t understand why I can’t just speak with him” Peter replied. He was growing rather impatient now. “He’s caused a pretty bothersome problem here and I need to speak with him and sort this out.”

               Rosalie sighed and attempted to straighten her back with confidence she didn’t really have. “A-alright. I’ll go back and ask him, b-but I wouldn’t get your hopes up!” she announced. Peter nodded and, per the she-minotaur’s request, took a seat at one of the tiny tables. He watched her approach that door in the back of the room, knocking in a specific pattern and then slipping inside. From what he could see, it was pitch black inside and there was hardly any sound. He picked up notes of incense or perhaps it was tobacco floating from inside. Even after Rosalie had entered the room, Peter couldn’t keep his eyes off that mysterious door. He wondered what was inside, what secrets it held. It piqued his curiosity. Perhaps it held some sort of answer as to who this Captain Bone was and how he came to find himself here.

               His mind wandered as he waited, the minutes passing slowly and torturously until finally she emerged with a sullen look crossing her face. She could barely look at him, disappointed in herself for having failed him. She simply shook her head as she shuffled her way back behind the bar. Peter couldn’t believe it. He jumped up and raced toward her, begging for clarification. “I-I’m sorry but Captain Bone said he’s not in the mood for counsel right now” she cried quietly.

               “I don’t understand. What’s keeping him?” Peter asked. “Is it really so hard to come out here and talk?”

               “C-Captain Bone is a very fickle person, he does as he pleases—” she began but was interrupted by a harsh slam of a fist against the bar.

               “Bullshit!” Peter shouted. Rosalie recoiled against the shelf of alcohol, restraining tears. She hated conflict, and deep down she wished that Peter and his men had never come to the tavern in the first place. Then things would be perfectly calm. The magnificent straightened his back then and sucked in a deep breath, his eyes falling upon that mysterious door. “Well, if he won’t come to me, then I’ll just go to him” he growled. He started for the door, but Rosalie shrieked and leapt in front of his path.

               “Please, don’t!” she cried, her entire body trembling. There was a strange desperation in her eyes. Peter glanced back to the door, always shut. He wondered why he wasn’t allowed inside, and what they were hiding.

               “Why not?” he asked, fire in his eyes. Rosalie couldn’t bear to look at him.

               “C-Captain Bone is very strict about keeping his personal life incredibly private. No one is allowed in or out of that room e-except for Captain Bone and myself” she explained quietly. “I-I’m sorry, sir…I’m so…so sorry.”

               Peter sighed and dropped into the nearest seat, rubbing his temples. His head was beginning to pound with all the unnecessary stress that had slammed him today. Rosalie froze for a moment when she noticed he had let his guard down, relaxing a bit as he became less of a threat. She watched him for a few moments, her heart beating out of her chest. She hated this, truly she did. If only there was something she could do. She was not a disobedient thane, she never gave her lord any trouble. Especially now, she knew not to rock the boat, but at the same time…

                “O-Okay…” she squeaked. Peter glanced up at her curiously. She had tilted her chin upward, clenched her fists at her sides, her chest rising and falling quickly. “I-If you really want to speak to the captain that badly, I-I can go back and t-try to negotiate. I can see what I can do.”

               A relief and unexpected joy began to swell inside of Peter. He leapt up from his seat, startling the she-minotaur, and took her hands in his. “Thank you, Rosalie. I really appreciate this.” In those moments, he had found a great respect for her. She was very shy and at times that bothered him, but her resolve in those moments was admirable. She was willing to defy orders and argue with her lord to get her way, or in this case Peter’s way. She was working for his own interest despite the cruelty of her master. He watched her scurry off back into the room, preparing herself for a barrage of anger just before stepping inside, and tried to keep himself composed. After all, regardless of Rosalie’s sudden vigor, there was no guarantee Captain Bone would bend to her will. He hated to think of the she-minotaur cowering in defeat, but he was smart enough to know that Bone was not an accommodating man. He likely would not agree to her request and, considering the nature of this situation, may even grow violent toward her for bringing it up again after he had already said no. If that was the case, Peter had resolved to defending Rosalie at all costs. Maybe he would even offer to bring her back to Cair Paravel after all of this was said and done. She could be happy there. He and his siblings would provide for her and treat her with the respect that she deserved. He had no doubt that she would get along splendidly with the likes of Hattie and Nefyn and Professor Arcadian and Hermes. She deserved far better than the ill treatment she received here, that much he was sure of.

               The afternoon crawled into evening and Peter did not see Rosalie again for the rest of the night. His heart raced as he pondered what may have happened to her, if she had somehow been swallowed up inside or even tossed into the River Shribble. He didn’t want to believe that she and Captain Bone had been arguing that entire time, but he wouldn’t put it past the man. Many times he contemplated barging in there on his own but then thought better of himself. Still, this did not stop him from wondering further about what was behind that door.

               After a while, he stepped back out into the freezing cold air, his troops still circling the lawn arguing about battle tactics. When Peter entered the scene, they all paused with expectant gazes but all he could do was shake his head and tell them he had yet to speak with Bone. By nightfall, they had all grown tired and bitter and cold. They trudged inside, defeated, knowing that no matter what they may come up with now, they would have to wait until morning if they wanted to act. Many of them retreated upstairs to their chambers for a rest, while others joined the rioting dwarves for a pint of beer. Peter, however, was not very much in the mood for socializing. He stepped outside and sat on the tavern porch, staring up at the stars as he brandished his sword.

               He wondered about his family, if they were alright. If they missed him or were worried about him. He thought of Ginevra across the sea, and what would become of her if he never made it back alive. He hated to think he would ever put her in the same position that Eilonwy put him into. It was the first time he had thought of her name in a long while, and his chest ached at the sound of it. It sounded so foreign to him now, like a distant star exploding lightyears away from him. It was this same time of year when she had left him. It felt like ages ago. He hoped wherever she was, she was happy and safe but more than anything, he hoped that there was still the slightest chance of her coming back to him someday.

               The front door swung open violently, stirring Peter from his thoughts. He turned to find a dark, cloaked figure staring down at him with arms crossed. He knew in an instant that it was Captain Bone finally emerged from his hideout. His eyes pierced through Peter’s sanity as he kicked his boot against the porch before he finally spoke, voice gruff and intimidating. “So, I heard you wanted to talk?”