𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 || peter pevensie [1]

chapter nine ~ kismet

When Nimueh opened her eyes the next morning, there was an uncomfortable chill in the air. The spring had brought with it a pleasant warmth, but something was different. It was as though the season had weakened. Pulling on her trousers, Nimueh laced up her shirt and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"Nimueh Firesong, His Majesty wishes to see you." Oreius spoke from outside her tent.

"Of course. Please tell Him I will be there shortly," she replied and began re-braiding her mass of tangled hair. There was little doubt in her mind that the battle against the Witch would be soon, if not that very day. She had been expecting Aslan to summon her before it all began. A shiver ran through her, rattling in her ribcage as she slipped her leather armour over her head. She absentmindedly tightened the corset strings until she finally stopped shaking.

When she came out into the crisp air, the atmosphere of the camp was far colder than she had feared. She could see the tension riddled within the bodies of the few she passed as she made her way to the top of the campsite. The two Pevensie boys stood with Oreius over a table outside Aslan's tent, but the Lion was nowhere in sight. She walked over, though carefully, as if any wrong move could start a panic. She stopped opposite Edmund, not looking at Peter but instead the map spread out on the table.

"Aslan asked to see me. Where is He?"

"Aslan's gone," Peter muttered.

"What do you mean? Aslan has gone where?" Only then did it occur to her that the 'Majesty' Oreius had been referring to was Peter.

"He's...dead." Nimueh looked up, wide-eyed, at Edmund. "We got word from Susan and Lucy earlier this morning. They're at the Stone Table."

Nimueh bowed her head. "I understand." She wouldn't allow herself to cry; Aslan would have known exactly what He was doing. He always did. "What are your orders?"

"I don't know." Peter gave her a hopeless expression.

"Well, you have to know. With Aslan gone, you must lead the army into battle. They are ready to follow you. No doubt the Witch's army is already on its way. We don't have time for you to doubt yourself anymore."

"But what if...what if I can't do this? I haven't had enough time. Couldn't you-"

"It has to be you," Nimueh affirmed.

"Aslan wouldn't have gone if he thought you couldn't handle this. He believed in you." Edmund said. "And so do I."

"And what about you?" Peter turned back to Nimueh.

"Aslan trusted you, and I trust Aslan." She wanted to reach over and touch his shoulder, but thought better of it. "You are not alone in this. You have your brother, you have Oreius, and you have me. And we're all going to be right beside you." Peter nodded, smiling only slightly. "What are your orders, Your Majesty?" It was the first time she had verbally acknowledged his status. Peter dropped his shoulders and breathed deeply, lifting his head to a change in the wind.

♛

Nimueh checked over the straps on Levi's saddle for the third time. It wasn't nerves that were messing with her mind; she'd seen enough battles to know that no enemy could draw fear from her heart. It was the deep indignation for the Witch that layered the pit of her stomach, the thought that anyone dared harm a hair on Aslan's man was sickening.

"Are you...er...alright?" came a voice. "Are you ready?"

Nimueh cleared her throat. "I was trained to always be ready." She turned around to see Peter standing a couple of steps away from her, shifting the armour over her shoulders. "Still, this will be my greatest battle yet."

"I'm glad that you decided to believe in me, in us, I mean," he said, leading his unicorn out of the pen.

"You must understand my initial reservations. You and your sisters walked into the camp looking like children. What was I supposed to think?"

"I understand," Peter said, then raised an eyebrow. "You don't think we're children anymore?"

"You are a King, as is your brother, and your sisters are Queens. That is how it is supposed to be."

Peter laughed. It was the first time Nimueh had seen him do so, and she had to fight the upward pull at the edges of her lips. "How is it that you now have such great faith?"

Clenching her jaw a moment, Nimueh chose her words carefully. "I was temporarily blinded by...fear."

"I didn't think you'd be scared of anything."

Running a finger under the collar of her shirt and pulling on the string that held the pendant around her neck, she raised her chin to show it to Peter. "This is the emblem of the Firesong family; they are the most important people in my life, no matter what world I am in. I would do anything for my family, and I admire how you try to do the same, so when Elijah told me that I was to stand by the rightful High King of Narnia, how could I refuse her?"

"But you were still afraid?" Peter chuckled.

Nimueh pierced her lips, looking away. "When this battle is won and Narnia is safe once more, I will tell you a story, and then I perhaps you will understand a little more. But for now," she straightened up, "let us go."

Something subtle about Peter had changed when she had finished speaking, but she wasn't was it was; perhaps something growing behind his blue eyes or an upward tilt to his chin. Then, he held out a hand to her. Nimueh thought perhaps it was for another handshake, an acknowledgement of her loyalty. But this wasn't his world, nor hers.

She clasped his forearm firmly, holding his gaze with the same determination. Nodding once, Nimueh placed her other hand on his shoulder. In Narnia, this meant something very simple.

Respect.