#narniaff

               Peter’s heart swelled with happiness at the sight of his family, caught in a tight embrace the moment he left Besnik’s back. “We’re so happy you’ve returned safely” Susan whispered.

               “How was it?” Edmund asked. “What were the giants like? Did they put up a good fight? I still wish you had let me come with you, Pete.”

               “It was fine” Peter replied despondently. There was something off about him. He had bags under his eyes, and he looked almost sickly. He turned his gaze to the happy reunions of his army, wives and parents and children all rushing to hug their beloved. Tristan’s family wailed and kissed his cheeks, desperate to ensure that he was really alive. Their hearts broke upon discovering he had lost an arm, but the fact he had lived despite that was a miracle. It’s Aslan’s blessing! they exclaimed. And then there were those who weren’t quite so lucky.

               A young woman rushed forward, frantic, a hand upon her pregnant stomach. “High King Peter, y-your majesty!” she cried, “W-what about my husband? Has he fallen behind? Will he return soon?” The look of desperation upon her face, the terrified suspicion, only enforced Peter’s own depression.

               “I’m terribly sorry” he replied, placing a hand upon the woman’s shoulder. He tried to be as kind as possible, but still there was something rather detached and robotic about him. Something not quite right. She looked upon him incredulously for a moment, searching his face for any sign of this perhaps just being some sick joke but when she found none, she brought her hands to her mouth and then subsequently broke down. Susan rushed to her side, wrapping the woman in her arms and trying to calm her. She glared at her elder brother and mouthed That was nicely handled.

               In the following days, however, it was clear that something was definitely amiss. Peter kept to himself often and didn’t want anything to do with anyone. Of course a battle of such proportions would take it’s toll on anyone, and at first the others presumed he was just tired from the fight, but when he was sleeping for far too long and still in a terrible mood, their suspicions escalated. Something wasn’t right and Susan, Edmund, and Lucy were determined to get to the bottom of it.

               “I just don’t understand” the gentle said one day, gathering her siblings in the library for a meeting. “I’m so worried.”

               “I knew I should’ve gone with him, no matter what he said” Edmund replied, arms crossed as he sat back in one of the reading chairs.

               “It’s not your fault, Ed” Lucy assured him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “He just wanted you to stay safe.”

               “Lucy’s right” Susan agreed. “Besides, we needed you here. Your work in the castle is just as important as anything you might do on a battlefield, if not more.”

               “I know, but still” Edmund replied. “I wish I had been there. Maybe then I could’ve prevented whatever’s bothering him from happening.”

               “I do wish we had some sort of clue as to what’s the matter” Lucy sighed. She hated seeing her eldest brother so withdrawn. “The last time he was this bad was after Eilonwy had left.”

               Edmund furrowed his brows and stroked his chin, deep in thought. “You know, Lu, now that you mention it, I have seen him spending a lot of time in the garden by the monument.”

               “Do you think something happened to hike up his depression about her again?” Susan asked.

               “It seems like a valid conclusion” Edmund began, “But I can’t possibly imagine what could’ve happened.” His sisters both shook their head in mutual understanding. Without any inkling of the journey itself, it was hard to discern what may have caused such a spell. Lucy gazed out the window to the garden below, wondering whether her brother was out there right at that very moment. She wished there was something she could do to make him feel better like last time, but they couldn’t afford another seafaring adventure. They had far too many obligations in court now. If she wanted to cheer him up, she’d have to think of something far less grand.

               When he wasn’t wandering the garden, Peter spent much of the rest of his time in his office mulling over paperwork. It had stacked up rather quickly while he was gone. Susan peeked her head in, a small stack of envelopes in hand, before approaching. “I’ve brought your mail” she replied, smiling softly. “Plenty of letters from Brenn. You ought to respond to them quickly. Ginevra’s been growing rather anxious, per her letters to me.” She hoped that perhaps their dear friend would bring at least the tiniest hint of a smile to his face, but to no avail.

               “Put them wherever” he said flippantly, barely even looking up from the page. “I’ll deal with her later.”

               Susan knew deep down that he couldn’t possibly be this cold, at least not without reason, but he was clearly in a compromising mood and she preferred not to make matters even worse. She nodded once, silently obliging, then stepped back out into the hall. “I’ll just be a few doors down if you need anything” she said, hoping for a response, but when she received none, she sighed and disappeared.

               “Well?” Edmund asked. He leapt up from his chair the moment Susan returned to the library. “What happened?”

               The gentle queen shook her head. “Absolutely nothing” she replied. She explained the situation in exact detail, then watched as her younger siblings fell back with heavy sighs.

               “I wish he would just tell us what’s wrong!” Lucy moaned.

               “We’ll just have to keep a close eye on him in the next few weeks” Susan said. “We can’t rush these things. He’ll tell us when he’s ready. However, if he should get worse, then…”

               Her voice trailed off, but the just and valiant knew exactly what she meant. They didn’t want to have to resort to such manners, but if Peter was to be noncompliant and show no signs of progression, then they would have no choice but to intervene. Lucy and Edmund nodded in agreement, and their secret pact was then formed.

               Within the next week and a half, Peter was stagnant. Letters from Ginevra were stacked from the floor to as high as the windowsill now, and he was paying very little attention to the many documents he was signing.

               “Uh, Peter?” Edmund asked, reviewing the one. The magnificent merely grunted as he skimmed the contents of his next page. “You do know you just signed a law to make raspberry jam illegal, right?”

               “Never liked raspberry anyway” Peter muttered. Edmund reached out just as he dipped his quill in ink, gripping his wrist as the point hovered over the page.

               “You’re not paying attention” Edmund scolded.

               “Of course I am” Peter replied, glaring up at him.

               The just smirked. “Then what’s the purpose of that one?” he asked, pointing to the document in front of him.

               Peter blinked, then smiled confidently. “It’s an addendum to the law about illegal grocery distribution” he said. Edmund snatched the paper from his desk and skimmed the document himself.

               “It’s a complaint about marine pollution filtering into Glasswater Creek” Edmund corrected. “See? You’re not paying attention.”

               Lucy sighed and pressed her back against the wall outside of his office. “I can’t watch this anymore” she whispered. Susan shook her head, standing beside her. “It’s like he’s a shell of his former self!” She cupped her hands at her chest, her heart aching at the sight of it all. It was too much.

               Susan knew it, too. “There’s nothing more we can do” she whispered. “We just need to wait it out a little while longer.”

               Lucy peered back inside for a moment more, as if to torture herself further. She hated feeling so helpless. She truly respected her older sister, but at the same time she couldn’t stand to sit back and do nothing while their eldest brother was clearly suffering. She was going to have to take matters into her own hands.

               The roses in the garden were in full bloom, coating the air in their sweet fragrance. The garden was silent all but for the fountain in the center, upon where the statues of the former royals stood. Peter stared upon them with great focus, leaning forward with fingers tented before his mouth. The valiant watched from afar and tried to piece everything together, but his mind was barred.

               “Seems like you’ve been spending an awful lot of time out here” she then spoke, stepping out into the open. She gazed upon the statue a moment, then to her brother and asked, “Mind if I join you?” She sat beside him before he could utter a response.

               They stayed there in silence for a few moments, Lucy simply observing and trying to make sense of everything. When she got nowhere, she resorted to small talk. “I’m sure you’re glad to be back in warmer weather after your trip up north, right?”

               “Doesn’t really matter to me” Peter muttered. Lucy frowned.

               “Soon it’ll be the perfect weather to run down to the beach. We could have a picnic! Wouldn’t that be fun?”

               “I guess.”

               “Until then, we could always have a picnic here in the garden. Just the four of us! It’ll be like old times, when Mum and Dad would take us to the park with sandwiches and those little chocolate biscuits.”

               Peter shrugged. “I’d rather not.”

               “Oh? And why not?” Lucy asked.

               “I just want to be alone” Peter said, and this time there was a hint of frustration in his tone. As if he was trying to tell Lucy to leave. She wouldn’t hear of it.

               “Well, then we can be alone together” she grinned. She could almost see Peter’s eyes roll into the back of his head with frustration. They then fell back into another bout of silence, before Lucy got a brilliant idea. She mimicked Peter, staring up at the statues with great purpose, then said, “I wonder what they were like. You know, when they were alive.”

               Peter made a strange sound and then shook his head, breaking his gaze with the statues. “I hate this goddamn thing” he muttered. “She should be up there with them.”

               “Who should?” Lucy asked, cocking her head to the side.

               “Eilonwy” Peter said quietly, as if she should’ve already known.

               “But she’s not gone. Not really” Lucy replied. “I mean, she’s still out there somewhere.”

               Peter abruptly stood and kicked at a rock on the ground, biting his lower lip. For a moment, it looked to Lucy as if he was about to cry. Then he sniffled, leaned down, and began turning the rock over in his hands. “I wish we had never done this. So stupid” he said, analyzing every inch of the thing. He turned his gaze back to the king and queen atop the fountain, pursing his lips and then growling “This was the biggest mistake.” Then, without a single ounce of hesitancy, he groaned and launched the rock with perfect aim straight for King Lorr’s head, knocking his nose clear off.

               “Peter!” Lucy exclaimed. She leapt up from her seat and pulled his hand back into hers. “What did you do that for?!”

               He was very still for a moment, his eyes skating down to the chunk of rock now laying on the grass, then turned back to his baby sister with wide, incredulous eyes. “Oh, god…” he murmured. “What have I done…?” His hand began to shake in Lucy’s grasp, his face growing red and his eyes teary. “What have I done?” he repeated, louder now. And then he broke down, wailing pathetically and burying his face in his hands.

               Lucy’s heart pounded in her chest. What was happening? There were very few times when she had seen Peter this distraught and broken. All she could think to do was wrap her arms around him tightly and attempt to comfort him, but nothing seemed to quell his hysteria. “P-Peter, please! What is this all about?” she begged.

               “Susan,really, I’m fine” the High King pressed. He hated that he couldn’t even lookhis sister in the eye, but this really was nothing. He felt lucky he had walkedoff that battlefield far less scathed than some others, though he knew if Lucywere here she would laugh and say he rather limped off the battlefield. Buttruly, he was fine. He didn’t need this. He could manage just fine.

               Thedoor at the end of the hall creaked open and Caspian slipped inside with afresh stack of blankets for the patients. “You seem rather helpful” Susanchirped.

               “Well,they are my people, and I am their king now. Is it not my duty to care for them?”Caspian asked. A soft smile touched the gentle’s lips. It did her heart good tosee that the Narnians were in good hands. After all, she was unsure of whatrole she and her siblings were to play now that the war had been won and peacewas restored. They were no longer on the throne, and yet once a king or queenof Narnia, always a king or queen, right? No matter. The technical aspects werenot important now. The primary focus was their patients.

               Justthen, Edmund had rushed forward wiping his brow. “How’s Lucy?” Peter asked.

               “Justfine” Edmund replied. “You’d never know she was up since dawn with her energy.”

               “QueenLucy truly has a gift for looking after others” Caspian commented. The othersnodded in agreement.

               “So far,she’s treated 64 of the 102 injured, including a pretty serious head injury andwhat would’ve likely become an amputation” Edmund explained. “How are the others?”

               “They’vebeen managing alright” Susan replied. She by no means considered herself amedic of any kind, but she had a fair amount of knowledge in treating simplewounds and therefore was more than delighted to help with the less severelyhurt. “Peter and I have been watching over them and helping them, though if youask me I think Peter ought to be looked at, as well.”

               Themagnificent shot her a glare. “Su, I told you, I’m perfectly fine.” Just aswith Caspian, his people’s wellbeing was far more important than his own. Hewould’ve much rather expended his energy treating them than wasting the medicstime with himself. However, his siblings unfortunately knew him far better thanhe’d like to let on. Susan simply cocked a brow and crossed her arms, thensubmitted her benchmark request.

               “If you’recompletely unharmed, then I want you to walk to the other end of the hall andretrieve that stack of bandages from the top shelf” she requested. Peterglanced back to where she had pointed, his heart racing in his chest for amoment, before raising his head high and giving a definitive nod. No problem. Itwas a simple enough request. He could handle it just fine.

               Twosteps, however, and his knee nearly gave out. He groaned and willed himself to standstraight but to no avail. Susan smiled proudly.

               “That’swhat I thought” she replied. Before he could protest, she had grasped his handand began guiding him toward an exam table near the front of the hall. Caspiansidled up to Edmund as they both watched, a look of concern crossing the newking’s face.

               “Is hegoing to be alright?” he asked Edmund. The just chuckled and nodded.

               “Theonly thing that’s really going to be hurt is his pride” he replied. “But I’msure he’ll get over it. Eventually.”

               This wasthe last thing Peter wanted. Susan stood beside him, holding his tunic andoverseeing the check-up, as a young medic examined his injuries. “Just as Ithought” she murmured.

               “See?”Peter said, turning to his sister. “I told you, I’m perfectly fine.”

               “You havea knee contusion and your dislocated shoulder was popped back into placeimproperly” the medic announced. Peter’s face fell. Susan beamed. “The contusionis rather intense, but fortunately your knee cap sustained no serious damageand you should be able to walk on it properly soon with the correct treatment.As for the shoulder, we’ll need to give you a sling to immobilize it but you’revery lucky whoever did this did not damage your tendons or ligaments.”

               “Thatcan happen?” Peter asked. The medic nodded.

               “Mmhmm.I’ve even seen one man with a fracture from trying to pop it back in himself!”she replied.

               “Theprofessor would be very disappointed in you, Peter” Susan replied. The magnificentbit his lower lip and clenched his fist. He didn’t want to think about that rightnow. For the past few months back in England, he had been considering attendingmedical school with much support from Professor Kirke. The old man had lent Petermany of the medical textbooks in his vast library so he could begin studyingfor the entrance exams early, but apparently he had not been studying hardenough. The medic before him smiled and lifted a finger as she slipped out toacquire everything needed for treatment.

               Once hewas done, Peter felt pathetic. His right arm had been put in a sling, andhis other was occupied with a crutch to help his bandaged knee. Caspian andEdmund looked up from their respective patients as Susan guided Peter to his owncot to rest.

               “Thatlooks serious” Edmund commented, making his way over once he was finished.

               “It’snot” Peter insisted, easing his way onto the bed. Susan adjusted the pillowsbehind him as he laid back, then explained what the medic had told them. “Whateveryou do, don’t tell Lucy about this, alright?” Peter requested.

               “Why?She’s going to find out eventually” Edmund said.

               “I don’twant her to worry. Besides, there are others who need her help more than I do”he replied. It was a fair enough point. She had a limited quantity of fireflowerjuice, and they all knew full well they didn’t have the time to restock.

               “Can weget you anything?” Caspian asked, sliding his way into the conversation.

               “No,thanks” Peter replied. He gazed at all the others lying around him, dwarfs andcentaurs and animals alike. All he could think was that he wasn’t supposed tobe here. He was supposed to be treating them, helping them, rather than lyingwith them. He felt helpless, useless, pathetic.

               A fewhours passed, and soon Peter became so bored with just watching the others rushback and forth tending to the wounded that he fell asleep. When he finally wokeup, the sun was setting and Edmund was at his bedside refilling his waterglass. “Morning, sunshine” the just greeted with a smile.

               “Howlong have I been out?” Peter asked. He tried to sit up, forgetting how delicatehe was, and winced when the pain reminded him.

               “Since about2:30, give or take” Edmund answered. “Do you need anything?”

               “No, I’mfine, thanks” Peter replied, then after a moment thought better of himself. “Actually,do you mind bringing me that medical book on the table over there?” he asked,pointing with his good hand across the room. Edmund met where his brother indicated,then hesitantly went over to retrieve it for him.

               “You know,you should be resting, not studying” Edmund said with a light laugh.

               “Iknow, but I can’t help myself” Peter replied. “I felt so stupid in front of thatmedic earlier, like I haven’t been studying hard enough. Did you know that youcan fracture something if you try to pop a dislocated shoulder into place on yourown?”

               “Why? Doyou have a fracture?” Edmund asked.

               “No,but I wish I had known that was possible” Peter replied.

               “I supposethat’s all my fault then, right?” the just then asked after a beat of silence.

               “Youdid nothing wrong, Ed” the magnificent insisted. “You were there when I neededyou, and you did the best you could. We’re lucky it’s nothing worse.”

               “I stillwish I had known” Edmund replied. Peter rolled his eyes with a laugh.

It writes:

”My Dearest Athena, 

It must seem trivial to exchange such formalities as we are to be wed days from now, but, alas, traditions like this never appear to fade into history. As the celebrations of the Christmas season draw closer, it is with much pleasure that I formally invite you to the Christmas Ball this eve in the Great Halls of Cair Paravel.

My love, I remember our first Christmas together. You and Ed sat by the buffet table all evening, feasting on the array of chocolates with sweet smiles. I can’t help but laugh in fondness of the thought. How young we must have been; how unaware of our future together.

I’ve been meaning to ask what in Aslan’s name you want for Christmas? You’re famously the worst person to buy presents for in the entire royal court and I can’t ask Susan or Edmund again because they too have run out of any good ideas! And don’t claim that you don’t want anything. If you do, I will still feel unbelievably bad and get you something anyway. Furthermore, you are completely deserving of a present after the ordeal I have put you through these last years. I’m sorry about that. I’m also sorry for apologising a thousand times despite your forgiveness, my love. Yours forever,

Peter.”

               “Do you think I ought to ask him if he’s alright?” Tristan asked one of the other soldiers one evening. “He seems awfully troubled, and I think it should be our duty to keep his morale in check just as it is his for ours.”

               “Do whatever you will” the other soldier replied sourly, taking another swig of his whiskey. Tristan stared upon him for a long moment, wondering if his comrade had been listening at all, before rising to track down the king.

               Peter did not want to spend any more time with his men than was necessary, or anyone for that matter. On this frigid night, he was outside brandishing his sword and biting his lower lip. Tristan peered out, calculating and considering, before stepping out into the night air.

               “Much colder in the north than I expected, your highness” he commented, blowing into his hands and rubbing his palms together.

               “It’s the northernmost border of Narnia, what did you expect?” Peter asked sourly, scarcely even looking up. A huff. Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea. Tristan was here now, however, and there was certainly no going back. He glanced through the window to find his comrade grinning at him from his table, lifting his glass in the air in a drunken salute.

               “You know” the young knight began, “I can’t help but notice you’ve seemed a little…well, for lack of a better term, distracted these past few days, your highness. Is there something on your mind?”

               Peter scoffed. “No” he replied bluntly after a moment of silence. “No, there is nothing on my mind, and even if there was, it’s none of your concern, anyways.”

               Tristan recoiled, sucking in a deep breath. He knew the magnificent was right—he had no reason to meddle in his superior’s personal life. That didn’t stop his brash response from stinging.

               “Oh, whine and cry all you want” a voice called from the doorway. Both men turned to find Bone with arms crossed, most likely smirking beneath that mask. “Get over it, kid. People die all the time. Not worth dwelling on.”

               “Death?” Tristan asked incredulously. “There’s death involved? Who? Where? When?”

               “Like I said before” Peter replied, turning back to the young knight, “It’s none of your business. Stay out of it.” And then, glaring at Bone, “And as for you, you have no right to tell me how I ought to feel. I am y—”

               “My High King, yes, I’m very aware” Bone droned, rolling his eyes. “I’ve told you already, your title means nothing here. These are my lands, I have far more rapport here than you ever will.”

               “But who died?” Tristan interjected. “One of our men?”

               “Just because you think you’re above me doesn’t make you right” Peter fired back, completely ignoring the young knight’s questions.

               “Well then perhaps it’s my plethora of experience that sets me above you, is that it?” Bone asked back, now circling the High King. A groan rose in Peter’s throat.

               “If this is about the tactics—” he began.

               “It’s about far more than the tactics” Bone interrupted. “By now, it’s about sheer overall intelligence. You know nothing of these lands, the way things around here work. By God, you don’t even know a damn thing about the giants themselves!”

               “Did the giants kill this person?” Tristan asked. Peter stood, sword tightly in hand, and pushed Tristan out of the way to get nearer to Bone.

               “That means nothing to me. No matter what, I still have a duty to these lands just as I do to the south and the east” Peter replied.

               “But what good will any of that do if you can’t possibly protect your men?” Bone pondered mockingly. “After all, you couldn’t even protect her—”

               “You shut up!” Peter screamed, pointing his blade at the captain. His face grew red, his nostrils flaring. The tavern had grown eerily quiet as its occupants, dwarf and soldier alike, flocked to every window for a first class view.

               Bone stared down the blade, meeting the king’s gaze with stony confidence. “And that is why you will always fail” he said calmly.

               “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” Peter growled.

               The wry captain lowered Rhindon’s blade with his finger tip, skirting around the king and pushing Tristan out of the way in the process. “You’re too angsty. Attributed to your youth, I suppose. How old are you, anyway? Fifteen? Sixteen?” he began. Peter clenched his teeth. Bone waved at the air. “No matter. Regardless, you have too much rage. You act before you think. And that is what is inevitably going to kill you.”

               “You don’t know a damn thing” Peter said.

               In that moment, Captain Bone got very close to Peter’s face, perhaps a little too close. “I know far more than you think” he replied, and there was a dark twinkle in his eye that made Peter nauseous. He didn’t like the way this man made him feel. There was something about his presence, his voice, his smell, something that didn’t quite fit. This was too much. Who was this man? What kind of secrets was he hiding? And why did he make Peter feel so uncomfortable and strange?

               Tristan gasped for breath and brushed his hair back out of his face. This was far more than he had bargained for. He glanced to the window to find his comrade pressed against the glass, grinning and nodding like a maniac. He was having a field day, that bastard. He never did think much of the young knight, never considered him very capable, but now, to see him trapped amid a raging war? Priceless. He only hoped the kid would make it out alive solely to mock him upon his return.

               Peter sucked in a deep breath, mustering all of his confidence. I know far more than you think. He almost didn’t want to know, but at the same time he didn’t care. He matched Bone’s intensity, then growled back, “Then humor me.”

               A scoff broke past Bone’s mask. “There aren’t enough hours in the day, kid.”

               “Then you’re a liar” Peter accused.

               “What did you just say to me?”

               “You’re a liar” Peter repeated. “If you really knew as much as you say you do, then you would have no reservations about spelling it out for me.”

               Bone rolled his eyes. “You really are stupid” he muttered. “I know you think you’re responsible for saving everyone just because you’re the eldest son. I know you think you’re some golden child just because bloody Aslan himself appointed you High King. And I know you’re young, cocky, arrogant, and hate being wrong” he then listed. Every insult was another jab at Peter’s composure.

               He was tired. More than anything, he was so very tired. Sheathing his sword, he tilted his chin in one last act of heroism and replied, “You may be right, but there’s one thing that you don’t know and that is that I will fight for this country with my dying breath, High King or not.” And with that, he pushed past Bone to step back into the tavern. The crowd at the windows dissipated. But the fight was not yet over.

               Crossing his arms, Bone laughed and watched Peter make his escape. “You’re a coward, and a shit king. You’re not cut out for this job. You’re not cut out for any of this. You ought to just go home, kid. You’re not wanted here, anyways.”

               Peter refused to turn back around. It was over. Bone had won. He held his head high, his hand on his hilt, and retreated to the guest chambers above.

               For the rest of the night, all Tristan could think about was trying to piece together this strange and mystical puzzle presented before him. He knew it was not his job nor his right to go searching for answers, but his insatiable curiosity had gotten the best of him. The idea of a death brought things to an entirely new level. As he tried to sleep that night, his mind raced with ideas. He peered over to Peter, sighing as he turned this way and that. The High King was strapped with his own concerns. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Eilonwy bloody and bruised and lifeless. His stomach churned, and then an anger rose up within him. Bone was truly heartless, perhaps even moreso than Jadis herself. He turned his words over and over in his thoughts, unable to comprehend how anyone could ever fathom speaking them. Perhaps a deeper curiosity, however, lay in the why. Bone seemed to have no past, and perhaps no promise of a future. He was simply a strange figment constructed from the present, and yet Peter knew there had to be more to him than that. There had to be some foundation, some backstory, tucked away in the deepest reaches of this man’s presence. There had to be some reason behind his cruel nature.

               Rosalie yawned as she wiped clean the last of the glasses, the tavern dark now save for the small candles hanging over the bar. The rest of the dwarves had passed out under tables and draped over chairs, their usual drunken mess. However, Rosalie had not accounted for midnight visitors from upstairs. A creaking in the stairs caught her attention, and her heart leapt into her throat. Had they come to fight, she was nowhere near prepared to defend herself. And then she saw Peter’s face, pale and tired. She froze as he approached, pressing a finger to his lips.

               “I’m surprised to find you awake still” he whispered.

               “I have duties to fulfill before bed” she replied. “But I should ask the same of you. You’re not supposed to be down here, you know. Bone, he’ll…well, he’ll have a fit if he finds you awake still, and then…I just…”

               “You can’t get in trouble if he never finds out” Peter replied. Rosalie tried to quell her fears, but to no avail. Bone was just too terrible an opponent to face. “I’m actually glad to see you here still” Peter then said. “I was hoping for a drink…and perhaps a friend.”

               Rosalie blinked her large cow eyes as she attempted to process his request. The drink she could manage. She would have to dirty another glass, but that was no trouble. The friend part, however, she was unsure she could fulfill. Her eyes darted to the backroom where Bone was presumably sleeping. And then, turning to the liquor cabinet, she asked Peter, “What will you have?”

               The flickering candlelight provided a comforting glow to Peter and Rosalie’s conversation. She listened as intently as she could manage as she began slowly putting the newly cleaned glasses away one by one. As Rosalie turned back around however, Peter reached out and grasped her hands in a manner not unkind and looked upon her with a hunger in his eyes. “Rosalie, I need to ask a favor of you. I need you to tell me everything you know about Captain Bone.”

               The she-minotaur paused. She gulped as her eyes flitted to the back door, to her loyalty to the rugged captain. “I-I don’t know…I can’t, well…I don’t think I can…can say…”

               “R-Rosalie, please” Peter begged softly. “Please, I need this. I need to know everything I can about him. You have to tell me. It’s important.” Rosalie whimpered, her heart pounding out of her chest. She hated this, the conflict and confrontation. She hated being put in a position such as this. But then Peter said something that perhaps hurt her even more. “Remember who you’re talking to” he said, voice firmer than before. She glanced down to her hands in his, a shock wave running through her. How could she possibly defy her High King? With a sigh, she fell to his will.

               “Nobody knows who he is, so it’s very hard to give definitive answers, you see…” Rosalie explained. Peter’s face hardened. “B-but! But I can say that he came to these lands not very long ago, and…he’s been by my side ever since.”

               The thought of Bone’s tenure here made Peter very curious. If he hadn’t been in the north very long, then what made him so adamant about being such a definitive figure here? There were so many questions still without answers. He gazed upon Rosalie and then was faced with yet another concern. The look in her eyes, the kindness and softness, he recognized that look. He recognized it all too well, and it scared him. “Bone seems to be very important to you” he commented. “It’s hard for me to imagine how, though, with how poorly he treats you, yelling all the time. He seems very…domineering.”

               “Oh, no!” Rosalie gasped. “It’s not like that at all!” she protested. Peter cocked a brow, and the she-minotaur sighed. “I care for Captain Bone very much, that is true. He is my protector, and he is very precious to me. I would do anything for him.”

               This was far worse than he had thought. Peter scoffed and took another swig of his drink. “Well, just be careful.”

               “W-what? What do you mean?” Rosalie asked, her anxiety rising.

               “Just don’t depend on him for everything, alright?” Peter elaborated. “I speak from experience. I had someone that was very similar once, someone I loved a lot, but turned out I meant nothing in the end.” Rosalie swallowed hard and blinked, unsure of how to tread on the subject. Before she could say anything in response, however, Peter swatted at the air and took another sip of his alcohol. “None of it matters now anyways. Not like I’ll ever see her again.”

               “I understand” Rosalie then said after a beat of silence. Now this intrigued Peter deeply. She locked her eyes on the bar, running her rag across it wistfully. “It’s hard when we lose someone we care very deeply for” she began. “Funny enough, that’s how I came to find Captain Bone.”

               “Oh?” Peter asked. He leaned forward, urging her to continue. He was desperate to absorb any information about this man he could get his hands on, any indication of a past or a history. Rosalie noticed this, and for a moment she was unsure of whether she should continue. The hunger in the High King’s eyes was unnerving. However, he wasn’t about to let her tease him with answers only to back down. He softened his gaze and fed her a reassuring smile. She nodded once, and then began her story.

               “A few years ago, Captain Bone came to these lands after having spent a long while at sea. He captained a ship, you know. The greatest ship there ever was. Once his marine expedition was over, however, he found himself here, in the North. Things were difficult back then. My father was the original owner of this tavern, and at the time it was just called ‘The Rose.’ He named it after myself” she explained, and here a small, sad smile touched her lips. “This was my father’s dream. We fled here when I was just a calf, after my mother was killed at the hands of the White Witch. This tavern was our saving grace. But a few years ago, we fell on hard times again. My father…he was going rather mad. Perhaps he could no longer handle the way things were anymore, or maybe it was my mother’s death that tortured him tremendously. Either way, there were few brave enough to venture this far toward the border, and fewer still living in this area. Business was slow, and our financial situation was dire. Our only true customers have been the dwarves, who had nowhere else to go after Jadis was gone. Oh, they were just awful back then, you would never believe! But then Captain Bone arrived, and he saved us all” she continued. She rested her chin in her hands with a dreamy sigh, closing her eyes happily. “My father felt very threatened, wrongfully so, and he apprehended Bone but the captain is a wise and skilled swordsman who fearlessly took my father’s life. He reformed the dwarves into his own army, and promised to protect these lands from whomever may be so bold as to attack. I renamed the tavern after the both of us, and it is here where he has stayed since.”

               The magnificent blinked a moment, trying to comprehend everything the she-minotaur had just told him. He was completely unable to speak for a long while—everything he wanted to say became jumbled at the back of his throat, and he couldn’t get his lips to form properly. Finally, he brought himself to croak out a simple inquiry: “But…how?”

               “How what?” Rosalie asked, blinking from her dreamy state.

               “H-How you can be so devoted to a man who killed your own father?” Peter asked. There was a strange sense of anger now building up from inside of him. He hated this man. He hated this man more than anything else in the world.

               Rosalie could sense his growing fury, however, and grasped his hands kindly in hopes it would quell his rage. “No, no, no, it’s not like that at all!” she insisted. “My father was mad beyond comprehension. It was no way for him to live. He was…h-he drank far too much, and his anger was…intolerable. I hold no ill feelings toward Captain Bone for what he did at all. I miss my father very much, but it was just his time. I truly believe Captain Bone was the messenger sent by Aslan to end my father’s suffering, and destined to then stay beside me with I as his companion.”

               This was far too much. The more Peter heard of this, the more desperately he wanted to bring Rosalie back with him once this was all over. She deserved a better life than this, one in which she was well taken care of and loved. He broke free of her hands and chugged he last of his drink. “I just can’t wrap my head around it” he muttered, “It doesn’t make any sense.”

               A sympathetic smile graced the she-minotaur’s lips as she took the High King’s empty glass and began rinsing it out. “I hope someday you may understand. I’m aware of how difficult it is for most people to wrap their heads around, but I know well enough that forgiveness is a far stronger act than revenge.”

               As Peter staggered back to bed, he stared up at the ceiling for hours turning Rosalie’s words over and over again in his head. Forgiveness is a far stronger act than revenge. The poeticism of it made him nauseous almost as much as the truth of it did. He did not particularly consider himself a vengeful person, and yet he knew that when those he loved were in danger, he was willing to do everything in his power to honor and protect them. He couldn’t imagine simply forgiving the White Witch for having swindled, captured, and tortured his younger brother. He couldn’t imagine forgiving anyone who puts his family in danger. Either Rosalie was just as mad as her father, or she was a far purer soul than he could ever hope to be.