HEY TO ANY NEW READERS OUT THERE!
THIS IS A SEQUEL!
Before you read this, you may want to read "I was King of Narnia" which you can find on my profile page. It covers Peter's epic story from his POV from; life in London, during the war, summer at the Professor's house, the Narnia events, what happened during the eightish/tenish years they reigned, how they got back to our World, and how they adjusted their lives to be normal again with school and social activities.
Its combines everything in the book AND the movie and I cover what happens in between that neither deal with!
This may not make as much sense unless you read the other story first because I do A LOT of character development and explain WHY certain things happen. Plus you will find references from past happenings.
Anyway, thanks for reading!
TO MY CURRENT READERS:
Hey my reviewers! We're off on another whirlwind adventure. I saw Prince Caspian Thursday night at midnight, and I was totally enchanted from beginning to end. It was a completely incredible movie, I only hope I can do Peter's character justice. His emotions, fights, opinions, dialogue, action, etc were ALL expanded in ways I never would have guessed. So continue to be as wonderful as ever, and I can assure you I'll do my best. Thanks for your ongoing support, you guys are fantastic.
So, here's to the next story.
Without you there IS NO STORY.
Further Up and Further In!
It's going to be rather difficult setting up Peter as an older guy with more issues, so I'm just going to jump right in. Sorry if it seems to abrupt considering the sappy-feel-good feeling of the first story, but I wrote it that way on purpose so we could REALLY see how he misunderstood Aslan's words to the point of idiocy.
THIS STORY IS ESPECIALLY DEDICATED TO 'I AM ME' and 'PRINCESS LUCY' who combined imaginative efforts to create the title of this story.
Chapter One, Prologue
"Stop being Peter the boy, as you once were, BE who YOU BECAME. You are High King Peter! I have given you a sacred title, do not throw it to the dogs!"
I heard his words again inside my head, wondering if I was dead. The wolf's jaws had clamped over my throat, everything had gone black, and now all I felt was pressure cutting the bonds between head and body. I thought I'd killed the wolf. Why was he back?
"Here you go, easy, silly fellow. Let me get that off of you. You are so clumsy."
"Pete, just hold still! You're making things worse!"
"Edmund, what are you doing?" I found that the blackness was disappearing like summer storm clouds, and my brother, Edmund, was grinning at me.
"Why are you smiling like that?" I asked rather dubiously.
"Because that was highly amusing," Edmund said, patting my leg.
I looked down, and I was in bed. My bookshelf lay on the floor, with a dozen books scattered around. I winced and put a hand to my neck, feeling the clamp of the wolf's fangs in my memory.
"Are you hurt?" Edmund asked, suddenly concerned.
"By the Lion's Mane, Ed, I don't even know what happened! Would you care to enlighten me?"
"Oh, well," Ed replied, still looking a little worried. "I woke up to the sound of you yelling random things about battles and Narnia and such. You got all tangled up in your blankets, threw your hand in the air, knocked your bookshelf—the little one from right above your headboard—off and onto your face. I haven't laughed so hard, since…" Edmund slowed to a stop, realizing I didn't share his hilarity.
"I was having a nightmare," I said slowly. "You of all people should understand that!"
By the look that crossed Edmund's face, I knew I'd hurt him.
"Sorry, Ed," I said quickly, "I didn't mean that. Not like how it sounded, anyway. I just meant that…I can relate, I guess. This is the second nightmare I've had in the past five months."
"When was the first? Why didn't you tell me?"
"It didn't seem so important," I said, "It happened the night I felt Aslan's presence…you know, when I went out and watched the sun rise and, um, lost my temper…during the Christmas holidays."
"Right. That one time." Edmund hopped off my bed and began picking up scattered books. "So, tell me about your dream."
"The most recent one," Ed chuckled a little, but quickly suppressed it.
I shivered and felt my neck again. I could have sworn I was being slowly beheaded five minutes ago. It was not a pleasant feeling.
"Well, the wolf, and I, we were in it tight—it was harder than the first time—and he finally had me in a choke hold, and his fangs were getting deeper and deeper into my neck until I felt like…" I shuddered. "I'd rather forget about it," I added curtly. "Don't bother me about it anymore."
Ed looked hurt. "No need to lash out at me, Peter. I'm just trying to help."
"Maybe I don't need it, Ed, not right now," I said, trying to sound gentle. "Try to understand."
"I do understand," Ed stood quickly and chucked a book at me. "I understand completely. Ever since you've had your little special moment with Aslan…" he spat it out mockingly, as if he'd been waiting to say it a long while. "You've acted different. You've been acting like…as if…you were more special that us."
"That's not true!" I cried, horrified. "I've just had a renewed sense of hope, that I have to keep having faith," even then, I choked on the word, "in Aslan…that he'll bring us back."
"So much faith, it astounds me," Ed said sarcastically. "You can barely say the word. Your little sunrise blabber party didn't do anything for what you call faith. All it did was make you feel like the High King again. Taller than you are, stronger than necessary, egotistical and self-centered!"
"That's…not…TRUE!" I jumped to my feet, feeling anger swell from my chest and heat my face like an oven. How DARE he attack me like that? He was making stupid assumptions.
I took an angry step towards Ed. He balled up a fist. When I saw his face set in the determined, gray pallor, I knew I'd pushed him. No, that's not right. He was the one over-analyzing things! He's the one who gave me a whole monologue about how he thought I acted!
He wasn't Ed right now. He was King Edmund the Just.
"I'm sorry," I said shortly, stepping back again and sitting on the bed. "I'm sorry, Ed."
"Yeah, I know, Pete," Ed turned and walked from the room. "We all are."
I dragged my feet towards the top of the hill, hoping for some kind of recognition—acknowledgment—notice—visions—anything at all!
What Edmund had said struck a nerve and shattered it. I felt like he was right. It'd only been five months since the…epiphany, I guess…but I tried to do what Aslan said.
He told me not to forget who I was. I had to be the High King, no matter what. It was a gift. I had to have faith he'd send us back.
What was my problem?
Maybe it was only because I was a stupid seventeen-year-old who was getting impatient. I longed for the weight of my sword on my belt, the wind in my hair, the fresh Narnian air working on my soul, the responsibility of being High King, and the incredible feeling when I was completely in charge!
Was I just a power-hunger tyrant? No better than that Hitler fellow?
No, I wasn't.
I reached the top of the hill, but the sky was gray. Rain drops flitted down, falling so slowly it could have just been moisture falling from the trees. Dead trees…stupid, dead, trees. Their spirits weren't even in there. Maybe they never had spirits!
"Aslan, this is getting ridiculous," I said. "I've done what you asked. I've never forgotten who I am. I've been patient. Don't you think I've waited long enough? I don't think I can bear it any longer!"
A wind whistled by…a chilly, lifeless wind. Aslan's warm breath was nowhere near it. A bluebird twittered nearby, and the sky only became darker.
"Stupid summer," I muttered, kicking a stone. "Stupid holidays. There's nothing to do. Stupid weather. Can't we get a little sunshine once in awhile?"
I tromped down the hill again, feeling drained…as if something critical inside of me had fallen out. By the time I reached the bottom of the hill, I felt totally hollow.
If I had truly thought about it, I would have marched back up there and made amends and renew my promise to be a good kid.
But I didn't.
I kept walking.
That was my first mistake.
I'd intentionally veered my path an entirely different direction than the light of Aslan's way. I wanted to feel selfish, I wanted to be the victim here—Aslan was the one letting ME down. I was done being patient. I was done being Peter. I was ready to be the High King of Narnia again. And if Aslan wasn't going to do anything clever about it, I'd have to take charge of my own life.
All these thoughts were completely unknown to me as I let myself back into the house, brushing by Susan as if she didn't exist. I didn't really know the outcome of my deliberate pity-party.
If I had, I don't know if I'd be the same man I am today.
I felt an exhilarating sense of being on my own…dangerous, but the adrenaline was going, so I took no notice. Life was going to get better.
Just you wait, Aslan. I'm not going to disappoint you. I'll get back to Narnia if it kills me. You just watch me, Aslan! I'm going to make you proud enough to burst. You just lay back and observe, like you do so well. It's not like you've been involved in my life lately anyway.
Alright, my reviewers. There's the first chapter of the awaited sequel! (Aren't I nice? You only had to wait, like, three days!)
I only have one request. Please review. I can't write fan fiction very well unless there are plenty of reviews—because that's what its FOR, the fans! Review and I will send you LOTS of mental cyber cookies, cake, and chocolate handmade by a pair of fauns in a monastery near the Archenland border.
Or, if you don't, I could send Jadis to your doorstep. ;-)
For Narnia, and for Aslan!