𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 || peter pevensie [2]

chapter one ~ pieces

Peter walked slowly over to the chest, behind which stood a stone statue, a mere reflection of the man he used to be. Lifting the lid of the chest, he saw memories of a life that had come to feel so far away; chainmail, over shirts, and of course, his gifts from Father Christmas. He freed the sword from its sheath, gazing upon the writing engraved into the blade. His mind turned back to the time he'd saved Susan and Lucy from the White Witch's wolves, how he became a knight of Narnia; he had gone into battle alongside warriors and friends, and it had served him well before and during his reign as High King of Narnia.

"How long do you suppose we've been gone?"

"I don't know." Lucy looked solemn. "But I have the most horrible feeling that everyone we knew when we lived here, Mr Tumnus, the Beavers," she hesitated, as though she was going to say something else, but thought better of it. "They're all gone."

"I can't find my horn," said Susan, pulling out dresses and jewels from her chest.

"You lost the enchanted horn?! " Peter said.

"I must have left in on the saddle of my horse that day we accidentally went back through the wardrobe," Susan shrugged.

"That's going to be a pain if we're ever in need of any help. Who knows what happened here, and who we might be facing when we find out what's going on."

"Thanks, Edmund. Great help," Susan said, flatly.

Peter managed to smile at his siblings' antics, sifting through his chest to find something more appropriate to wear than his damp school uniform. He pulled out a shirt that would probably fit him, but as he did, something fell from the chest and clattered onto the floor at his feet. Looking down, he saw what had fallen and immediately tossed the shirt aside.

Two curved blades, tied together, sheathed in black leather; the hilts were silver, grips wrapped in the same material. Not a speck of rust contaminated them. Looking back to the chest, he saw nestled a large ebony-wood bow and a few arrows. He bit the inside of his bottom lip.

"Peter, are you alright?" Lucy placed a hand on her brother's arm.

"Do you think she stayed," he asked after a long pause. "And helped ruled in our place?"

"No." They all looked at Edmund. "She was too proud to put her weapons with yours. Somebody must have put them there, knowing that's how you'd want it."

"Do you think she's..."

"Peter, it seems impossible for her to be-"

"There's no way of knowing what happened to her." Edmund cut Susan off. "At least, not until we find someone who can tell us what's happening now and perhaps why we were dragged off the platform."

"I suppose you're right."

Lucy let out a light laugh, smiling fondly. "She gave this to me on my eighteenth birthday," she said, holding up a broach with red, orange, and yellow jewels arranged in the shape of a lion's head. Peter tried to smile, though something about the air in Narnia felt so wrong and unfamiliar that even the best of his memories seemed distorted.

Edmund, seeming to sense his brother's discomfort, cleared his throat. "Let's get out of here. We'll take what we need and get back above ground."

The girls went to change amongst a thick patch of the orchard above ground. Peter lingered behind, unsure as to what to do with the weapons. They felt more like sacred artefacts now, which deserved to be on display rather than hidden away in a dark stone chest. He moved behind the chest to the statue of his older self; placing the arrows so that they would sit in the arms, he slung the bow over the shoulders and across the chest. It looked clumsy, but it made the sadness feel a little more dignified. This was a lot less than she deserved, but it was something. The blades he clutched in his hand, with no intention of letting them go.