Another pointless meeting. We had captured twenty-three dwarves in all now, after two months of Archenland's presence. We had caught wind of the dwarves still on the mainland launching an attack against Narnians. My pleas to the officers had fallen on deaf ears. Your kingdom, your problem, they had said. You're not a new king anymore. They were heading back home. I got out of there as soon as possible, rushed down the halls, and rounded a corner too quickly, nearly knocking Ruth down in the process.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, catching her elbow.

"It's alright," she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "How did it go?"

I sighed.

"That bad, huh?"

"These meetings never accomplish anything! At the end of the day, it doesn't matter how many dwarves we capture. We still don't have any idea where they come from."

"Has anyone tried asking?"

I nodded stiffly, annoyed.

"I-" A flicker of hurt crossed her face. "I'm sorry. What I meant by that was, 'Has anyone tried asking the ones in the dungeon, after their immediate capture and again after they have spent time in there?'"

"Oh." She was on to something. "No, actually. That's a great idea."

"Ruthie!" Lucy called from a room down the hall. "I found it!"

I smiled. "Unicorns?"

"What else?" Ruth giggled.

"I'll be down in the dungeons."

"I'll meet you down there in a second, Magpie!"

My smile widened. "See you there."

I walked down to the dungeon and explained to the guard what I was doing.

"Do you think I should take them out one at a time until someone says something, or just ask all at once?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "I would say you should ask all at once, then if no one offers information, you should single them out."

"Alright. Thank you."

"Of course, Your Majesty," he said with a bow. Forcing down the discomfort that always accompanied someone bowing to me, I made my way into the dark maze of cells.

Weaselly voices screeched at me, taunting me.

"Yer s'pposed to be dead!"

"Why hasn't anyone killed you yet?"

"Who do you think you are?"

"You ain't dead? We c'n fix that!"

I fought to keep my head held high. "Silence!" I demanded, my voice cracking.

Shrill laughter filled the dark quarters.

Blushing furiously, I struck a match and lit a lantern, holding it high.

"I am not dead!" I declared. "Silence, prisoners! I am your king now. The White Witch has been defeated."

"You are a boy!"

"Her Majesty's influence prevails!"

"Your reign will be as short as a mouse's toenail!"

I struggled to speak above the prisoners. "If the influence of the defeated White Witch is limited to a prison, I do believe that it has grown quite limited," I remarked sarcastically.

"No! There are more of us!" one yelled defiantly.

"How many?"

"Dozens!"

"No, hundreds!"

"Thousands!"

"Yes! Yes! Many thousands!"

I scanned the room as the cacophony of voices grew along with the exaggerated number of dwarves. I saw a dwarf in the corner cell, smaller than the rest with a short beard. He looked up with sad eyes.

"Help me," he mouthed soundlessly.

"Why?" I mouthed back, looking around as if I hadn't seen him. When I glanced back, he had rolled up his sleeve to reveal the unmistakable red of Narnian armor.

"Fine!" I yelled dramatically. "You are all impossible! I am going to take you one at a time for individual questioning."

This raised a general groan. Good.

"I will begin with you," I said gruffly, pointing at the small dwarf. I unlocked his cell and ushered him out of the dungeon to another room.

"Will you please untie me?" he moaned. "I can't feel me hands..."

"I'm sorry, of course." I slashed the ropes with my sword. "What is your name?"

He hung his head. "Hesturi."

"You are not like the others," I remarked.

"No. I'm nothing like them at all," he said sadly. "I want nothing to do with them, but here I am."

"How did you get here? How did anyone get here?"

He sat in sullen silence, as if weighing his words carefully.

"You have nothing to fear. Just tell me how you got here, and no harm will come to you." I raised my sword to his neck. "Tell me everything you know. You have nothing to fear."

"Lower your sword, and that will be true."

"What? No! I am High King now. What I say is true. All I want is to protect my family. Tell me how I can, and you will be safe. So again: how did you get here?"

He remained silent.

"What are you trying to accomplish here?"

No answer.

"Why are you different from the others? If you're truly different, and that red cloth was not ripped from the body of a Narnian soldier slain by your kinsmen, now is a good time to prove it!"

Nothing.

"Just tell me what you know!" I yelled. "Or else I-"

"Peter?" a soft voice at the door asked. I whirled around to see Ruth, staring at me, eyes wide. Her eyes quickly shifted to the dwarf. "Peter!"

I looked with horror at what I had done. With my sword to the dwarf's neck, turning around had left a horrendous slice in it, which was gushing blood. Ruth yanked the sweater off her shoulders, threw it at me, and dashed away down the hall.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I murmured over and over again as I pressed the sweater to his wound. He simply stared at me with blue eyes glazed with pain. "I didn't mean to get so upset, I didn't mean to do this, I didn't mean to endanger my family, I never meant to imply I would hurt yours, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Ruth rushed back into the room with Lucy's vial. She gently opened the dwarf's mouth and dropped a bit of the precious liquid in it. He gasped, blinked, and sat up. The wound on his neck quickly sealed to a white scar.

"This isn't what Aslan would have wanted, Peter," Ruth said solemnly. "You've been under too much pressure lately. Hey, why don't you go help Lucy and Susan with their research project, or play chess with Edmund, or take a nap? I can talk to...?"

"Hesturi," the dwarf answered, backing away fearfully from me.

Without saying a word or making eye contact, I left the room, closed the door gently, walked numbly to the bedroom, shut that door gently, and collapsed onto my bed. I screamed into my pillow, then sat up and began punching it repeatedly. Gasping for breath, I flopped onto my back and stared at the dark ceiling.

"'This isn't what Aslan would have wanted, Peter,'" I mimicked in a squeaky voice. "I should know. I mean, I abandoned you all just to go on a fun adventure with him. I'm an expert now! Oh yeah, and I was the only one who knew about Aslan when we first came to Narnia because I'm just that special!" I growled and began to talk to myself in my normal voice. "I'm not under too much pressure. What does that even mean? Does she think I'm not fit to be king? High king, even?"

I jumped to my feet and rushed out the door to the pavilion. My sword drawn and flickering with the orange light of the late afternoon sun, I attacked each and every straw man with a new vigor.

"I'll prove it!" I announced to no one in particular. "I'll prove it! I can do it! I can be High King! I can protect my family! Like this!" A straw head thudded on the dusty ground. "And this!" I stabbed one through the heart. "Yeah! See! I can do it! I can do it!"

I kept fighting my opponents of straw until long after sundown. Susan called me at one point for dinner, to which I replied "Not hungry!" before chopping off a straw hand. She rolled her eyes and stalked away.

When I was surrounded by limbs without owners and heads without bodies, I sat on the edge of the wall, heaving for breath and gazing with pride at the demolished army. I heard soft footsteps approaching me.

"Hey," Ruth said shyly.

"Hey."

"I was able to find out how the dwarves are getting here."

I said nothing, just stared straight ahead.

She cleared her throat, not sitting next to me. "They dug a tunnel from the mainland to a part of the woods covered by mosses and brush. He said he would show me, but he was afraid of us being attacked if any of the others saw."

"How many dwarves are on the island?"

"He doesn't know for sure."

"How many are on the mainland, then?"

"Hundreds more."

"Great."

For a moment, there was complete silence. She cleared her throat again and spoke quietly.

"You know, I was thinking... the dwarves are attacking us because they think we're weak. They think that if they can dethrone you, the Narnians will be easily swayed by the Witch's enchanting concoction, so-"

"Her what?"

"Oh, they didn't tell you? In the meetings?"

"No." I answered through gritted teeth. "They did not."

"It's the potion that bewitched Edmund. They planned on using it to make all the Narnians loyal to them, once you were dead. But Tumnus and I were able to recover it. It's in a safe and secure place, though, so don't worry."

"What else do I not know about?" I barked, still not turning to face her.

"Nothing, I-I don't think," she stammered. "W-Well, anyway, as I was saying, they think we're weak. I think our best course of action would be to attack their base, to prove them wrong through a display of power."

"I will not endanger my family by recklessly throwing them into the middle of a battle we're sure to lose."

Ruth ran to sit next to me. She put her hands on my thigh and looked at me earnestly. I continued to stare into the distance. "No, you see, I was thinking we could rally the Narnians under their new rulers. They would gladly march to battle for you, we just need to-"

"No, they wouldn't."

"And why not...?"

"No Aslan."

"That didn't stop them last time. Or you, for that matter."

"He came back."

"Who's to say he won't this time?"

"You tell me. You're the Aslan expert," I remarked with a shrug.

She looked down. I continued.

"You know what I think? You know, as High King? I say that we should find the tunnel, and seal it off. Problem solved."

"But Peter, that would just irritate them. They could always build a new tunnel, and they'd be even more desperate to kill you. I'm afraid that they would launch an outright attack themselves, and not bother with another tunnel."

"Oh, so you're willing to attack first, that seems like a great idea to you, but you're afraid of an attack if we plug up their precious little tunnel? Is that how your brain works?"

"P-Peter, no... I'm saying they think we're weak. Vulnerable. I think it would be best to prove them wrong, by attacking, with the element of surprise. We can do it, Peter, I know we can. Hesturi knows where many of them are located, guarding the tunnel entrance. If we split up, into two-"

"No! We are not 'splitting up' for any reason. Look Ruth, my job here is to protect my family. Long as they're safe, everything is fine."

"What about your kingdom, High King Peter the Magnificent? What about them? Don't they deserve to be safe too?"

"Just because your family's all dead doesn't mean mine can just die too!" I shouted, whipping around to glare at her. I rose to my feet. "I'm the High King. And I say we find the tunnel and plug it. And that's that."

I stomped away, leaving her there. I made my way to the kitchen, snatched an apple off the counter, and crunched angrily as I walked to the bedroom. I threw the core under my bed, yanked off my dusty clothes and changed into my nightclothes, not caring how much noise I made, and sat down heavily on my bed, arms crossed.

Lucy stirred slightly and rolled over to face me.

"Where's Ruthie?" she asked.

My own sister. My own sister asked about Ruth instead of me.

"I don't know," I snapped.

"Is she alright?"

"She's fine."

"Then where is she?"

"Lucy, I said I don't know!"

"Did you two fight?"

"Lucy, quiet!"

She stared at me until tears welled up in her eyes. Sighing again, this time much quieter, I walked over to her bed and scooped her into my lap.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so upset. Please don't cry..."

She sniffled and sobbed into my chest. I rocked back and forth, murmuring apologies in her ear.

"Peter, you're not the same!" she wailed. At this point, Susan and Edmund had begun to stir. "You're not the same! You're- you're- you're a-always b-b-busy, and w-w-when you are a-a-a-around, you're- you're- you're not the same!"

I looked to Susan for help. She merely shrugged.

"She's not wrong, Pete... you're always so anxious and paranoid. To the point of being irritable."

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"Hey, it's okay. We're still getting used to this life. But Peter, you need to relax."

"I can't... not with dwarves popping up out of holes in the ground every week trying to kill us... not with dozens and dozens of soldiers always wanting to talk to me... not with them all leaving us tomorrow..."

"We have A-A-Aslan on our side!" Lucy croaked. "W-W-We'll be alright."

"Exactly," Susan said, ruffling her hair.

I sighed. "I guess you're right. Ruth too."

"Where is she?" Edmund asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"I'll go find her," I said, setting Lucy down and pecking her forehead. I kissed Susan's as well, before pulling a coat on over my pajamas and stepping out into the night.

I walked to the pavilion, but it was deserted. Assuming she had gone to the bedroom a different way from me, I returned.

No Ruth.

"Did you find her?" Ed asked.

I shook my head. "I thought she'd be here."

Susan shook her head.

Edmund jumped out of bed and pulled boots on over his pajamas. "I'm going with you." He reached for his sword.

"So am I," Lucy said, racing to grab her knife.

"I'll stay here in case she comes here," Susan said, her voice shaking with the worry I fought to hide.

Has she been attacked by another dwarf? Kidnapped? M-Murdered? It's my fault, it's all my fault...

I nodded, feeling a lot less braver than I probably looked. "B-Be safe."

She smiled and slung her quiver over her shoulder. "Yes, sir!"

I ushered Lucy and Edmund out of the room, closing the door behind us.

"Do you think she went to the kitchen?" Lucy asked. "She didn't eat dinner."

"Or maybe she went to talk to the dwarf again," Edmund suggested. "That's where she said she was going when I passed her in the hallway this afternoon. Maybe she thought of more questions."

"Maybe. Let's check there first, then the kitchen."

When we reached the room, the dwarf wasn't there. Only his blood was. I quickly shielded Lucy's eyes, but she had already seen.

"Is that Ruth's?!" she shrieked, running towards it.

"No, it's not, Lucy, it's okay, come back," I said, prying her out of the room. "Ruth hasn't been here. Let's check the kitchen."

"What happened in there, Peter?" Edmund asked.

"Nothing," I muttered.

"Did someone get hurt?" Lucy inquired worriedly.

"He was healed with the vial."

I burst into the kitchen. Nobody was in there. A single candle burned in the corner. In its dim light, I saw that it sat on a single piece of parchment, a quill lying nearby. I rushed over to it and read the obviously rushed note. A big drop of water, presumably a tear, stained the bottom corner, still soaking.

Dear Peter,
I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry for being pushy and saying what I think. I only tried to help. You're the king. I'm not. It's your family. Not mine. As you said, my family is dead. I failed them. I would hate to be responsible for the death of yours. I trust your judgement with them. I'm sorry.
I'm leaving so you never have to see me again. I'm going to recruit Narnians to lead an attack against the dwarf stronghold. Hesturi sketched me a map, so I know where to find it. You can plug up the tunnel on that end, so no dwarves come through when we attack. I'll send a messenger the night before the attack so you have notice. Once the dwarves are defeated, I'll go back home. Then you never have to deal with me again. I'm sorry for everything, Magpie.
Sincerely,
Ruth
P.S. Please tell the others that I'm sorry for not saying goodbye before leaving. I heard you in there talking to them, so I didn't want to upset you by going in. I love you all so much. I'll see you at home.

"Peter?"

"Peter?"

"Peter?!"

"PETER!"

I jumped, pressing her note to my chest. The last thing I had of her.

"Peter, what does the note say?" Ed asked.

"Is she okay?" Lucy's eyes were wide with fear.

"I... I..." I crumpled to the floor. She left, again. And this time, it was my fault. And with my head in my hands and my hands clutching the note, I cried.