Narnia's Shadow // Peter Pevensie

Anger and Frustration

Anger. Such a strong word to describe a person. Especially, if that person is painfully shooting arrow, after arrow, after arrow because of said anger. You do not want to get in the way of a person with a weapon — unless you want to be on the other end.

I grunt in frustration as another arrow pierced through the center target. How dare He deny of giving me access to my full potential? Does He not know how much it means to me? About how much it hurts to have a part of you taken away?

My abilities are the only thing that I have some sort of connection to my parents. Other than my freakish eyes that everyone tends to point and stare at. Aslan always says that it is a blessing to have eyes like mine. That one day someone will come and appreciate the beauty as much as He does.

But when will that day come?

Once again, making the perfect shot, I threw my bow down to the ground. It bounced once at the force of my anger and frustration went to the throw.

"What did the bow ever do to you?" A voice asked from behind me causing me to jump in surprise. I turn around to find Peter with different clothes. The perfect clothes fit for a King.

"A lot actually," I told him. Peter smiled.

It grew tense around us. My hands fiddled with the skirt of my dress since I had discarded my cloak to the bench beside me. The heat making me not need it anymore — also there is no need to hide my identity to the soldiers in camp. It was strange to not feel the winter wind blow against my cheek anymore. I grew up with it.

"A penny for your thoughts?"

I shot my head up to find Peter had taken a couple of steps closer. So close, that I can just reach out and touch him if I wanted to... But I'm not because why would I want to touch him anyway?

"It's nothing that involves you."

"Even if it doesn't, you should still speak what is on your mind."

I looked at him. The sun was high up in the sky and it made his blonde hair glow brighter than it ever did in the snow.

I bent over to pick up my bow, dusting off a few pieces of grass on the magical weapon.

"You say that but do you really mean it?" I retort to him. It seemed to have caught him off guard because his mouth flew open a few times yet nothing came out. I scoffed, turning around to get my stuff from the bench behind me. I heard hurried footsteps following behind me.

"Of course, I do. Why wouldn't I?"

I didn't answer him instead I put my bow over my chest and gathered my cloak and daggers together.

"I know what Aslan said hurt you but—"

"He didn't hurt me!" I interrupted him, forgetting for a moment that he was the Son of Adam, the future King of Narnia. "I don't get hurt. I don't feel pain. But I do feel anger! Anger for not getting what I desperately want." Huffing, I grabbed my things and started to walk away.

"So, you are a spoiled brat who is throwing a tantrum for not getting what she wants!" Peter shouted from behind me. 

I stopped in my tracks in disbelief, turning around to face him and he as well halted in his place from following me.

"I am not spoiled!" I said. "I am just frustrated to have a piece of myself taken away and not able to have access to it. Have you ever felt that way, Your Majesty? To be taken from your family and the only gift that they gave you is taken away from you. Not ever to be seen again?" Peter's eyes softened as they lowered to the ground. "I am not spoiled." I repeat. "I just want to feel whole again." As I went to walk away, Peter gently grabbed my wrist. Hesitantly, I faced him.