Why Should The Fire Die? (2/?)
Title: Why Should The Fire Die? (2/?)
Author: myriddin_lyr
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Peter Pevensie/Susan Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie/Lucy Pevensie (implied), OCxOC (next-gen)
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: The king of Narnia comes of age, and the repercussions rock both worlds
Author's Notes: Sibling incest warning. Includes next-generation original characters.
Chapter Two: Rise and Fall
In Narnia, the time for William's coronation is here. In our world, Peter and Susan have an unexpected encounter.
Narnia
The procession was an impressive one, the heirs of Adam and Eve side-by-side as they rode through the throngs of people there to coronate one of their own as the Narnia's highest protector and liege lord, answerable only to the great Aslan himself.
Leading the way was William of Narnia, proud and strong as the powerful black charger he rode, and beside him on a graceful chestnut was his sister, Elizabeth. Younger by two years, Elizabeth the Fair they called her, aptly named that day in the flowing royal blue gown she wore, her long golden hair tumbling freely around her shoulders and catching glints of sunlight as they made their way through the crowds.
Though she obligingly waved and smiled of her people, knowing sapphire eyes continued to stray to the man riding beside her, one of the few able to see through the mask of confidence and power he wore that day.
He had taken a familiar perch on the battlements above Cair Paravel, staring out into the night. It was there she found him that evening, slipping up beside him in silence. He slid an arm around her shoulders and she pressed close, both for mutual comfort and warmth.
She looked up at him with an odd sort of understanding in her eyes. "What is it that so darkens your heart and mind, brother, that you sit here for hours without word or sound, staring into nothing?"
He gave her an askance glance, rearranging his cloak to shelter them both from the wind whipping across the ramparts. "Be well, sister. It is not for tender ears to know what darkens my mood."
She shook her head with exasperated affection before softly sighing. "Stubborn you are, William, as men so often seem. Who am I as sister and confidante if you can dismiss me so easily?"
He smiled weakly as he pressed a tender kiss to her brow, "What you are, is my light against the darkness. A pure, bright star to guide me back. Dear Elizabeth, I thought you knew that by now."
Though his words struck a chord inside her as the sadness of them was undeniable, the sentiment touched her still, and she could do nothing but rest her head against his shoulder, not another word shared as they listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
That night had nearly a year ago. Little, it seemed, had changed in her brother. If anything, his burden seemed that much greater.
xx
England, 1947
Susan Pevensie was not quite certain what she had been expecting to find when she entered her parents' home that afternoon. She was there on request of her mother to check on things from time to time while her parents were gone on holiday. With Edmund and Lucy away at school, the house should have been empty, so when Susan closed the door behind her only to be met with the soft crooning of music, it was anything but expected.
The curtains were drawn, lights out as she crept down the hall, following the source of the sound as it grew louder the closer she drew to her father's study. Turning the corner and creaking the door open, she saw there was only a single light lit, a small lamp sitting on the edge of Daniel Pevensie's heavy oak desk, behind which was Peter.
Though she knew she shouldn't, she slowly let her eyes trail over him. He was lounging in the leather wingback, turned sideways so his legs and neck hung over the sides of the chair. His look was haphazard, jacket and tie thrown carelessly to the floor nearby, sleeves rolled up and suspenders down, blonde hair carelessly tousled. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, as he puffed lazily on a cigar he'd likely snatched from their father's collection.
Her throat tightened. The last she had heard of him was his plans to take a leave of absence from university to do some kind of work for Professor Kirke. That had been months ago, the news originating from a call with their mother, for it had been over a year since she had seen Peter face-to-face. They'd both grown tired of the fights, the distance, and their last blowout had been a bad one. A maturing Peter whose face and body were taking on the shape and form of the man she once called husband, it was more than she could take. He couldn't be her golden king any longer, even as she watched him grow more bitter and jaded with each rejection.
"Peter," she said quietly, able to do little more than whisper while swallowing back the thicker emotions.
Somehow, he still managed to hear her even over the low sounds of the radio in the corner. His eyes lazily fluttered open, his lips upturned into a mix between a smirk and a half-cocked smile. "Su," was all he said in way of greeting.
She swallowed, looking away for a moment before focusing back on him, her brow furrowing as she saw the glass in his hand, the slack expression on his face. "Peter, are you drunk?"
Peter stood, swaying slightly as he settled on his feet. He took one last draw from his cigar, putting it out on the edge of the desk. His blue eyes were clouded with intoxication, hazy both in the dark and with the alcohol. "Mmm. Maybe."
She shifted, looking away uncomfortably. "I'll leave you to it then."
"Wait," he reached out, catching her wrist. "Su. Don't go."
She turned back to him with a cautious, inquisitive look, and sighed. "What are you doing here, Peter?"
"I was in the area," His voice, as he spoke, was gruff, rough with emotions she couldn't quite bring herself to understand. He shrugged with an air of forced nonchalance, picking up glass and liquor from the desk to pour himself another. The amber liquid was translucent in the pallid glow, the clink of the ice against the glass a sign for him to arrange a refill. The crystalloid twang of the sifter hitting the table echoed slightly as he set it down, tossing back the drink. It was a familiar feeling, going down smooth but burning, a comforting fire in his belly. He sighed, turning his head back to her. "You?"
"Mum asked me to check on things. You were the last thing I expected to find."
"What is it, then? A pleasant surprise or an unpleasant one?"
Susan shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself in a defensive gesture he had seen from her too many times. "Su?"
"Don't go there, Peter. Please."
His face blanked. "You sound almost frightened, Susan," He softened, reaching out to lightly grasp her elbows.
She shook her head, with a short, humorless laugh. "I was startled, Peter. That's the extent of it."
Her eyes were moist as he felt her quiver, and he edged closer, "And yet you tremble, looking any moment like you might weep. Have I ever given you reason to fear me, beloved?"
His body felt heavy, languid, and a hazy feeling clouded his perception. Still, he knew better, that he shouldn't, when he reached up with shaky fingers to touch her cheek. Her skin was soft, silken to the touch, and the way she turned her face into his hand set his blood ablaze and made his heart shudder in ways it never should. He knew better, but that didn't stop him from leaning down to press his lips to hers.
The endearment, the way he spoke, it was all so painfully familiar it was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms and beg him to never let her go. And when his mouth covered hers, coaxing her to respond, she could only surrender to his touch.
xx
Coming to steps of Cair Paravel, they were met by the members of the regency council who had ruled Narnia in their stead for nearly fifteen years. Among them were the centaur Oreius, the faun Tumnus, and their beloved uncle, the Grand Duke Aldric. A noble, who had been husband and consort to Queen Lucy the Valiant, and in her and her siblings' absence, had been the man who raised the royal children as his own.
After helping her off her mare, William offered his sister his arm. She gave him a courteous smile, eyes locking with his for a pregnant moment as something silent passed between them.
Are you certain you can do this?
Do I have a choice?
Elizabeth tucked her hand against his elbow, and together, they began ascending the castle steps.
xx
His kisses were a little clumsy, reflective of his intoxicated state, but made her shiver with want nonetheless. His mouth was hot, and she was met with the taste of liquor as his tongue twined with hers.
Peter's hands grasped hard at her hips, jerking her closer as he rucked up the skirt to her dress, calloused hands wrapping around stocking-covered thighs. There was heat pooling in her belly, passion ascending inside her with incredible speed. She could feel him straining against his trousers and she arched into him, wanting more. More of his touch, more of his kiss, more of him.
He lifted her to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, and he stumbled toward the chair, landing hard with a writhing Susan snug in his lap.
xx
William's stomach knotted, his vision swimming from where he sat upon the throne. The crown hovered above his head where Aldric held it aloft, the golden circlet standing out blatantly against his raven hair as the trumpets sounded and courtiers made their announcements.
"All hail, William the Gallant! King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Lord of Cair Paravel. Long live the king!"
The people roared, William closed his eyes, and Aldric lowered the crown.
Long live the king.
xx
Susan arched into the strong hands placed at the small of her back as she crested with a sharp cry, soon followed by a growl of her name as Peter thrust up against her one last time. She sank back against him, shivering in the aftermath, naked and damp with sweat, and he enveloped her in his arms, allowing her to curl up against him. He smelled of tobacco, scotch and cologne, and she turned her nose away, longing instead for the scent of sweat, leather and the salt of the sea.
She brushed her hand against the heated skin exposed by his open shirt, a lump rising in her throat as she found smooth, golden skin absent the battle scars her memory knew so well. She shook her head, burying her face in his chest and he slowly ran his fingers through her hair. She listened to the rampant sound of his thundering heart, gradually calming down, and the way his heavy breathing began to slow. His arms grew slack around her and it was easy to slip out of them, ignoring the way her fingers trembled as she stepped back into her dress, combing down her tangled hair.
Grabbing her discarded purse, she paused over his unconscious figure, pressing a kiss to his sweaty brow. "Dear heart," she breathed, "My king, forgive my wrongs against you. For they must continue."
There was as little redemption to be found in silence as in angry words, she mused as she took her leave, leaving him to his drunken sleep.
The more things changed, the more things stayed the same.
Author: myriddin_lyr
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia
Pairing: Peter Pevensie/Susan Pevensie, Edmund Pevensie/Lucy Pevensie (implied), OCxOC (next-gen)
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: The king of Narnia comes of age, and the repercussions rock both worlds
Author's Notes: Sibling incest warning. Includes next-generation original characters.
Chapter Two: Rise and Fall
In Narnia, the time for William's coronation is here. In our world, Peter and Susan have an unexpected encounter.
Narnia
The procession was an impressive one, the heirs of Adam and Eve side-by-side as they rode through the throngs of people there to coronate one of their own as the Narnia's highest protector and liege lord, answerable only to the great Aslan himself.
Leading the way was William of Narnia, proud and strong as the powerful black charger he rode, and beside him on a graceful chestnut was his sister, Elizabeth. Younger by two years, Elizabeth the Fair they called her, aptly named that day in the flowing royal blue gown she wore, her long golden hair tumbling freely around her shoulders and catching glints of sunlight as they made their way through the crowds.
Though she obligingly waved and smiled of her people, knowing sapphire eyes continued to stray to the man riding beside her, one of the few able to see through the mask of confidence and power he wore that day.
He had taken a familiar perch on the battlements above Cair Paravel, staring out into the night. It was there she found him that evening, slipping up beside him in silence. He slid an arm around her shoulders and she pressed close, both for mutual comfort and warmth.
She looked up at him with an odd sort of understanding in her eyes. "What is it that so darkens your heart and mind, brother, that you sit here for hours without word or sound, staring into nothing?"
He gave her an askance glance, rearranging his cloak to shelter them both from the wind whipping across the ramparts. "Be well, sister. It is not for tender ears to know what darkens my mood."
She shook her head with exasperated affection before softly sighing. "Stubborn you are, William, as men so often seem. Who am I as sister and confidante if you can dismiss me so easily?"
He smiled weakly as he pressed a tender kiss to her brow, "What you are, is my light against the darkness. A pure, bright star to guide me back. Dear Elizabeth, I thought you knew that by now."
Though his words struck a chord inside her as the sadness of them was undeniable, the sentiment touched her still, and she could do nothing but rest her head against his shoulder, not another word shared as they listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
That night had nearly a year ago. Little, it seemed, had changed in her brother. If anything, his burden seemed that much greater.
xx
England, 1947
Susan Pevensie was not quite certain what she had been expecting to find when she entered her parents' home that afternoon. She was there on request of her mother to check on things from time to time while her parents were gone on holiday. With Edmund and Lucy away at school, the house should have been empty, so when Susan closed the door behind her only to be met with the soft crooning of music, it was anything but expected.
The curtains were drawn, lights out as she crept down the hall, following the source of the sound as it grew louder the closer she drew to her father's study. Turning the corner and creaking the door open, she saw there was only a single light lit, a small lamp sitting on the edge of Daniel Pevensie's heavy oak desk, behind which was Peter.
Though she knew she shouldn't, she slowly let her eyes trail over him. He was lounging in the leather wingback, turned sideways so his legs and neck hung over the sides of the chair. His look was haphazard, jacket and tie thrown carelessly to the floor nearby, sleeves rolled up and suspenders down, blonde hair carelessly tousled. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, as he puffed lazily on a cigar he'd likely snatched from their father's collection.
Her throat tightened. The last she had heard of him was his plans to take a leave of absence from university to do some kind of work for Professor Kirke. That had been months ago, the news originating from a call with their mother, for it had been over a year since she had seen Peter face-to-face. They'd both grown tired of the fights, the distance, and their last blowout had been a bad one. A maturing Peter whose face and body were taking on the shape and form of the man she once called husband, it was more than she could take. He couldn't be her golden king any longer, even as she watched him grow more bitter and jaded with each rejection.
"Peter," she said quietly, able to do little more than whisper while swallowing back the thicker emotions.
Somehow, he still managed to hear her even over the low sounds of the radio in the corner. His eyes lazily fluttered open, his lips upturned into a mix between a smirk and a half-cocked smile. "Su," was all he said in way of greeting.
She swallowed, looking away for a moment before focusing back on him, her brow furrowing as she saw the glass in his hand, the slack expression on his face. "Peter, are you drunk?"
Peter stood, swaying slightly as he settled on his feet. He took one last draw from his cigar, putting it out on the edge of the desk. His blue eyes were clouded with intoxication, hazy both in the dark and with the alcohol. "Mmm. Maybe."
She shifted, looking away uncomfortably. "I'll leave you to it then."
"Wait," he reached out, catching her wrist. "Su. Don't go."
She turned back to him with a cautious, inquisitive look, and sighed. "What are you doing here, Peter?"
"I was in the area," His voice, as he spoke, was gruff, rough with emotions she couldn't quite bring herself to understand. He shrugged with an air of forced nonchalance, picking up glass and liquor from the desk to pour himself another. The amber liquid was translucent in the pallid glow, the clink of the ice against the glass a sign for him to arrange a refill. The crystalloid twang of the sifter hitting the table echoed slightly as he set it down, tossing back the drink. It was a familiar feeling, going down smooth but burning, a comforting fire in his belly. He sighed, turning his head back to her. "You?"
"Mum asked me to check on things. You were the last thing I expected to find."
"What is it, then? A pleasant surprise or an unpleasant one?"
Susan shrugged, wrapping her arms around herself in a defensive gesture he had seen from her too many times. "Su?"
"Don't go there, Peter. Please."
His face blanked. "You sound almost frightened, Susan," He softened, reaching out to lightly grasp her elbows.
She shook her head, with a short, humorless laugh. "I was startled, Peter. That's the extent of it."
Her eyes were moist as he felt her quiver, and he edged closer, "And yet you tremble, looking any moment like you might weep. Have I ever given you reason to fear me, beloved?"
His body felt heavy, languid, and a hazy feeling clouded his perception. Still, he knew better, that he shouldn't, when he reached up with shaky fingers to touch her cheek. Her skin was soft, silken to the touch, and the way she turned her face into his hand set his blood ablaze and made his heart shudder in ways it never should. He knew better, but that didn't stop him from leaning down to press his lips to hers.
The endearment, the way he spoke, it was all so painfully familiar it was all she could do not to throw herself into his arms and beg him to never let her go. And when his mouth covered hers, coaxing her to respond, she could only surrender to his touch.
xx
Coming to steps of Cair Paravel, they were met by the members of the regency council who had ruled Narnia in their stead for nearly fifteen years. Among them were the centaur Oreius, the faun Tumnus, and their beloved uncle, the Grand Duke Aldric. A noble, who had been husband and consort to Queen Lucy the Valiant, and in her and her siblings' absence, had been the man who raised the royal children as his own.
After helping her off her mare, William offered his sister his arm. She gave him a courteous smile, eyes locking with his for a pregnant moment as something silent passed between them.
Are you certain you can do this?
Do I have a choice?
Elizabeth tucked her hand against his elbow, and together, they began ascending the castle steps.
xx
His kisses were a little clumsy, reflective of his intoxicated state, but made her shiver with want nonetheless. His mouth was hot, and she was met with the taste of liquor as his tongue twined with hers.
Peter's hands grasped hard at her hips, jerking her closer as he rucked up the skirt to her dress, calloused hands wrapping around stocking-covered thighs. There was heat pooling in her belly, passion ascending inside her with incredible speed. She could feel him straining against his trousers and she arched into him, wanting more. More of his touch, more of his kiss, more of him.
He lifted her to him, her legs wrapping around his waist, and he stumbled toward the chair, landing hard with a writhing Susan snug in his lap.
xx
William's stomach knotted, his vision swimming from where he sat upon the throne. The crown hovered above his head where Aldric held it aloft, the golden circlet standing out blatantly against his raven hair as the trumpets sounded and courtiers made their announcements.
"All hail, William the Gallant! King of Narnia, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and Lord of Cair Paravel. Long live the king!"
The people roared, William closed his eyes, and Aldric lowered the crown.
Long live the king.
xx
Susan arched into the strong hands placed at the small of her back as she crested with a sharp cry, soon followed by a growl of her name as Peter thrust up against her one last time. She sank back against him, shivering in the aftermath, naked and damp with sweat, and he enveloped her in his arms, allowing her to curl up against him. He smelled of tobacco, scotch and cologne, and she turned her nose away, longing instead for the scent of sweat, leather and the salt of the sea.
She brushed her hand against the heated skin exposed by his open shirt, a lump rising in her throat as she found smooth, golden skin absent the battle scars her memory knew so well. She shook her head, burying her face in his chest and he slowly ran his fingers through her hair. She listened to the rampant sound of his thundering heart, gradually calming down, and the way his heavy breathing began to slow. His arms grew slack around her and it was easy to slip out of them, ignoring the way her fingers trembled as she stepped back into her dress, combing down her tangled hair.
Grabbing her discarded purse, she paused over his unconscious figure, pressing a kiss to his sweaty brow. "Dear heart," she breathed, "My king, forgive my wrongs against you. For they must continue."
There was as little redemption to be found in silence as in angry words, she mused as she took her leave, leaving him to his drunken sleep.
The more things changed, the more things stayed the same.