ACCURSED : Peter Pevensie

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Peter Pevensie had no need for wishes because everything he could ever want could be brought to him. He was the high king of Narnia, the largest political and economic power in all of the Narnian world. Peter Pevensie barely remembered being a boy with so many wants, with a thousand wishes in his mind. Now, he was mostly content, with few notable exceptions.

That night, he was on a mission on behalf of his brother, Edmund. While Peter was a better swordsman, his position as high king meant it would be foolish to send him on any quests. Yet, Edmund's betrothed, Theodosia, was ungodly ill, and if it were any other mission, the rulers of Narnia would've decided to send a knight in his place.

However, this was nothing ordinary, even for Narnia. Peter had been travelling with ten men from the calvary toward the border in Archenland. The previous evening, when they reached the mountains leading to Archenland, Peter and three dwarven men had left their horses and begun to traverse the rocky terrain on foot. If their bird spies were correct, they were going to find a hostage trapped in a cave near the top of the mountain, a journey which required speed, stealth, and endurance. The mountains grew cold at night, but the thing that made Peter shudder as they walked was the potential consequences if they were caught.

It was a dark evening, and the stars of the sky dim even though there were no clouds overhead. Peter was sure it was a rebellion from the heavens above, one that he was hoping to solve. While the mountains grew cold, he was hoping the darkness would provide the final cover for their rescue.

Peter and his soldiers had arrived at a ledge. Their bird flew above to see if there were any guards before the entrance, so Peter stood with his men, their breaths thick in the air though it was barely autumn.

"We will be fine, sir," one of the soldiers said.

Peter barely looked over, nodding. He rubbed his sleeves. They had opted for leather armour, which would not provide as much protection as chainmail, but it was certainly lighter and quieter. Edmund would have made a better call. The leather was cold too, and so Peter struggled not to shiver.

"John said no one was guarding the place last time," a different soldier kept his voice low and rough.

"I trust John," Peter nodded his head.

He was not worried about finding guards above. Truthfully, he was barely worried about the soldiers accompanying him, as they were more practiced than he was at fighting. They were all also dwarven, small and stealthy rather than fauns who would be recognized from far above as Narnian. No, Peter, standing and waiting for news of danger, several days away from Cair Paravel, was worried that Theodosia was growing more ill.

Despite his best efforts, he had come to like her. Perhaps the only thing he would wish for is her health.

Paul returned, soaring back to them. Landing on the wrist of one of the soldiers, Paul flapped his wings before tucking them into his body, "no one is guarding the entrance. I couldn't get too close, but I could see the glow of a fire inside. She might have started it though."

The three soldiers all looked to Peter, who nodded, and they continued the rest of the way, carefully climbing without tying ropes. The pathway was not too steep, likely for ease of transferring guards to and from the prisoner. Peter got to the top first, crouching on the ground. He could see inside the low tunnel. There was indeed a fire. As he lay in wait, he listened for the sounds of voices, whispers whistling out the tunnel entrance. There was not much that he could hear besides the crackle and the howling wind.

The soldiers rose alongside Peter, and so he stood. Unsheathing his sword, he led the charge into the cave.

There were two servants of the White Witch inside, both boggles. The two creatures, with pig-like noses and long wrinkly limbs, towered over Peter, let alone the dwarves. Yet, they were caught off-guard, eating dried meat around a small fire without weapons by their side. Peter had the jump on the first, stabbing one through the chest without a pause while the other scurried toward its weapon. The three soldiers descended upon it, while Peter turned his head, looking around.

In a corner, pressed tightly against a wall, Peter spotted the hostage. Her face was in her hands, her long stringy hair covering most of her body. It was yellow, the colour of straw, though the very ends were white. Peter had only met a star once before then, a friend of this one, and that star's hair emitted white light, nearly blinding him, sharp contrast against her midnight skin. This star was fair and cowering. For a second, Peter could only blink and wonder if they had been fooled into rescuing someone else.

Still, he knelt down on the ground in front of the young woman and pulled at the chains bound to her wrist. She looked up at Peter, and he saw the stream of silver tears down her cheeks, glittering as diamonds would. Her hand reached over to his and touched it, her skin sharp like shards of glass. He pulled his hand away, the tips of two of his fingers bleeding from just a graze of her skin. She is surely the star.

"They don't have the key," she told him, her voice nearly like a bell in its melody. "The chains are iron. They weaken me."

"We will help," Peter said, looking around.

The dwarves had managed to finish off the boggle with little injuries on their end. Their kind were historically metalworkers, and so Peter hoped they would know how to remove the chains. One dwarf was holding his side as if he might have bruised a rib, but they otherwise looked fine.

"There's no key," Peter explained to the soldiers, who were beginning to gather.

"Can't she wish for one?" a soldier asked.

"Stars can only grant the wishes of others," the young woman's voice was quiet. "We can only grant one wish in our lives either way, so you cannot wish me free without losing out on your prize."

"I wish for the key," Peter said.

The star looked at him, her tears hung in her lashes, shimmering in the low light. She took his hand in hers, and Peter tried not to wince at the touch. Then, his palm grew icy cold, and when she withdrew her fingers, he could see a key in his grip, shining and sparkling as if it too was a star. So, he took the key in his bloody fist and unlocked the manacles.

He took off the iron chains, revealing thick welts and bruising below. The injuries were unnatural for even a prisoner dragged by their wrists. The slight colour in her cheeks began to recede until she had no colour except for her straw-blonde hair.

She blinked at him, and her deep blue irises were taken over by her black pupils. They were a starless sky, a stormy sea in the middle of the night.

"Thank you, High King," she spoke, her voice echoing through the cave. "Your kindness will be rewarded."

Then, the star's skin and hair flashed a bright white. Peter shielded his eyes and only opened them to watch the star shoot into the night sky, the white trailing far above the mountains. Peter stared in awe, heading out of the cave to get a better glance at her soaring through the air. He stood over the rocky ledge, unable to take his eyes away from the sight.

Then, he felt a gloved hand grip his foot from below.

~~~~~

I have been working on this for like a year and it is finally here. Let me know what you think in the comments! More to come soon haha.