𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 || peter pevensie [1]

chapter five ~ new hopes and old fears

"You seem close to Aslan," the youngest of the Pevensie siblings said when the crowd had dispersed.

"No. This is only my second time meeting him," replied Nimueh.

"What did you say your name was?" The boy stepped forwards.

"Nimueh, of the family Firesong, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion," she inclined her head towards them, her thumb nestled between her chest and the string of her bow.

"My name is Peter, Pevensie that is," he said, holding out his hand.

Nimueh tilted her head to the side, moving her eyes from Peter's face to his outstretched hand, and then back to his face.

Lucy giggled. "You're supposed to shake it. It's how people greet each other where we come from."

Nimueh was hesitant to touch the boy, reaching out slowly, refusing to step any closer to him, and placing her palm against his. His fingers closed a little, and she retracted slightly. Peter began to shake her hand up and down, wearing a grin that one might have expected to be smug, but wasn't.

"These are my sisters, Susan," Peter gestured to the elder Daughter of Eve, who was probably around Nimueh's age, maybe a little younger. She attempted to shake Susan's hand, with more success this time. "And Lucy." The little girl smiled a toothy smile up at her, shaking her hand firmly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," said Lucy. "Can I ask you something? How do people greet each other where you come from?"

"Well," Nimueh said, stiffly. "Considering we just met, you would be obliged to kiss the back of my hands, as are you are guests of my superior. If we were friends, we would kiss each other's cheeks, and superior persons of the group would kiss the lesser persons' foreheads. That's how it's done in Elite society, but members of the People generally just kiss each other's cheeks."

"That sounds awfully patronizing," Susan frowned.

Nimueh didn't reply, nor did she mention just how ridiculous she thought the whole handshaking business was. "Elijah," she called. The Dryad bounded over. "Could you please find our guests some more appropriate clothes to wear?"

"Of course; right this way, please." The three Pevensies followed the Dryad.

Nimueh's eyes trailed after the eldest sibling, Peter. It was their younger brother who had lost his way, making Peter the supposed High King. Thinking back to what Elijah had made her promise, she looked down at the hand she had used to shake theirs, then looked back up at the disappearing forms of the children. She had vowed to stand by them, to trust them with all her heart, but they were still just children, the eldest likely not so much older than she looked. Nimueh turned around to see Aslan standing just outside of His tent, also watching the Pevensies before His eyes fell on her.

"Come here, my child." Nimueh obeyed, walking up to the small platform. "You look troubled, young one. Come inside and tell me what bothers you so."

She followed Aslan into the tent, suddenly at a loss for words when He turned to look at her. "Do you worry about the prophecy, child?"

"No, I..." she trailed off. She gritted her, not looking at Aslan. Then she gave in. "Have you seen them? Are they to be expected to lead a country? The eldest of them, he clearly has no training, no experience on the battlefield, no knowledge of strategy-"

"Then you must help him. Teach him," said Aslan.

But he's a child! How can I be expected to follow a child?"