Skies of Couple-Colour
by betty

Skies of Couple-Colour

betty

Summary

Poor Peter, you see, had just realized that he was going to be King of Narnia, and I hope you do not think less of him when I tell you that he lost his breakfast in the heather.

Notes

I begged you to stop me. None of you did. This is on your heads. I used book canon to fill in gaps in the movies canon, except where book canon was chauvinistic, paternalistic, or otherwise embarrassed itself. Derry betad, brit-picked, and prevented me from embarrassing myself. Any errors are mine.

This is as PG rated as it is possible for it to be. Given that Oreius is a centaur, that may not help you.

Imported from Archive of Our Own. Original work id: 1543.

Chapter One

Peter thought then, and never changed his mind, that there is nothing so confusing as a battle. It's quite true, and if you have never been in the midst of one, you cannot imagine the clamour and chaos. So it was that with the battle won, Peter was left standing in a gully, feeling rather horrid.

Susan, who was an all right sort, and really did notice things more than she let on, said, "Peter, are you all right?"

Poor Peter, you see, had just realized that he was going to be King of Narnia, and I hope you do not think less of him when I tell you that he lost his breakfast in the heather.

"Oh, Peter, don't," said Susan reprovingly, but some things really cannot be prevented, so Susan sensibly put a cool hand on his neck instead of scolding him, for his neck was the only part that wasn't covered in armour. "Ought I to find Lucy? Would you like a bit of cordial?" she asked.

"No, go on," said Peter, feeling not at all like a King, and glad it was only Susan who had seen him. "I'll be fine."

So Peter sat alone for a bit until presently his stomach settled. It was a perfectly beautiful day of the sort that have become rare in England. These days, it is difficult to sit anywhere for too long without hearing a motorcar, but in Narnia it is possible to have real silence. Presently, he began to feel better, and stood up with the plan of climbing up the ravine to see if he could discover his whereabouts.

He was only half way up when he heard the sound of hooves on the turf. Sensibly, he drew his sword, for many of the witch's creatures had survived, but instead Oreius came around the bend, gloriously restored to flesh. Peter was quite relieved, not only to see a friend rather than foe, but also to see that Oreius' stone form hadn't been shattered in battle, as had happened to far too many.

"You're alive," he said foolishly, and dropped his sword. Since he was half way up the hill, he was eye-level with Oreius, who leaned over and picked up Peter's sword for him, passing it back with a reproving look. "You took the witch's blow for me. Thank you."

"I was not chosen for this position because of my cowardice," said Oreius. "Will you rejoin the army? They look to you for leadership."

Peter sighed and followed him.

Peter had climbed up to the tower, hoping to let himself breathe in the sight of Narnia and, he imagined, regain some of the peace he had lost when Aslan left. But he took so long climbing the tower that the sun had sank by the time he reached the top, and the owls awoke and Taewit, the most vocal, began to explain to Peter what a great thing it was to have a Son of Adam on the throne in Narnia which quickly became a lecture on the responsibilities of kingship.

Peter was far too polite not to listen, but owls are quite the talkative sort, and if you have ever listened to some old fellow explain how the rail was quite superior in his day, you will be able to understand why Peter found himself nodding off. When he jerked upright for the third time, one of the owls noticed, and then there was a great round of apologies for not remembering that Peter was a member of a day-going people, and another round of apologies for being so rude as to bring up this deficiency. Peter was forced to explain that he was not in the least offended, and then apologize for his lack of attention. When it began to look as if this would set off another round, Peter begged off and stumbled down the stairs, head thick with sleep.

But kingship is not the sort of job one can put a schedule to, and when he descended to the main part of the castle, he found Oreius looking for him.

"Sire. There you are," he said, and Peter felt quite guilty for making him search. "The trees have brought word of an enclave of the witch's creatures, hiding in the Lantern Waste and harassing your majesty's subjects."

Peter scrubbed across his face and felt rather stupid. "What... Blast. I suppose we shall have to mount up and clear them out."

For a moment Oreius face softened. "I forget you're just a yearling. With your permission, Sire, I shall make ready a party to leave in the morning."

"No," said Peter, "I've been sleeping," which wasn't quite a lie, "I'm rested." Which was.

So they made council that night, Peter, and Oreius, and Tumnus and Taewit, and Susan was woken up so that she might join them, and between them decided on a course of action, which was that Peter would take a small band and leave Susan and Edmund and Lucy behind. "For it isn't as if you can't send messages with the birds," Susan pointed out.

That morning, Peter rode out under the banner of the lion once more.

Sometimes Edmund came with him, (and I should mention that he learned his swordplay from a dwarf and was regarded as quite a fierce fighter in a scrap) and sometimes Susan with her bow, and sometimes both, but they always left Lucy behind minding the castle.

"And the worst of it is," said Peter, "that I've seen her practising with her sword when she thinks no one's about, and I know she wants to be able to join us."

"Not for nothing is your sister called the Valiant, Sire," said Oreius, and they shared a sort of disquiet at the thought of what would happen when Lucy grew older.

Oreius, of course, was always by his side, or on one occasion, beneath him, when Peter's beautiful charger, (not a talking horse, but quite brave all the same) was slain by an ogre. I doubt you have ever tried it, but it is quite awkward to ride a centaur, not merely because it is quite unthinkable to use reins, but because it is nearly impossible to see past a centaur's broad shoulders. But Peter put his trust in Oreius and clasped him about the waist, and hid his face against Oreius' armour, and in the end they were able to regroup and slay the ogre, who had been doing quite horrible things which I shan't tell you about, for they were far too unpleasant.

Peter learned about making war, that year, an unpleasant but necessary knowledge for a King. Not only in battle, but in the moments between. I hope you never know it, but the greater part of war is sitting about in damp spots, and riding when you'd rather not, and waiting for news.

Often Peter would find himself accepting the hospitality of a grateful family of hedgehogs, but just as often he would sleep under a tent, or the stars if the night was warm. On those nights, Oreius would sometimes tell stories. "Mind the lesson of the battle of the Ford, Sire," he would say, and relate how the placement of the archers had compromised the mobility of the mounted troupes. Centaurs are great story tellers, and Oreius knew hundreds of battles, only a dozen of which he had fought in himself.

Peter listened quite carefully to these stories, but sometimes he would coax Oreius to tell him older, more fantastic stories, like how Mount Pire became stone, or how the Naiad and the Hamadryad fell in love. Sometimes, when they were safe enough, Peter could take off not only his breastplate, but his mail, and greatly daring, lean against Oreius' flank.

On occasion, Oreius would ask Peter if he could tell stories, and Peter, shy but delighted, would tell of how he came to Narnia, or about St. George and the dragon, or of Jack the giant killer. Peter was not a terribly good story teller, but Oreius never mentioned this to him.

I do not mean to give you the idea that this was a jolly time. There were many grim moments. I cannot tell you how many times Peter and his company sped across Narnia at some rumour to arrive too late. Peter buried a fair number of his subjects then.

And yet, there came a time when he realized he had been at Caer Paravel a month, and that he hadn't picked up his sword the entire time.

"Susan," he said over breakfast, (and Narnian breakfasts are perfectly lovely, but I shall make you hungry if I say more,) "I should be doing more here."

"Are you feeling better, then?" asked Susan, and Peter saw that everyone had been cosseting him without his knowing, and felt rather a fool.

"I'm sorry, Susan, I didn't mean to leave you alone with all this."

"Nonsense," said Susan spiritedly, "I've had Lucy and Ed, and Tumnus and Merovar have been a great help."

"Lucy?" Peter asked, but Susan didn't even hear him.

"If you want to be helpful, you can meet the delegation from Archenland."

"Torrin, gerrof!" said Edmund, and then one of the dogs said, "Why do your clothes taste of mutton?" (even talking dogs are not too nice about what they put in their mouths) and Peter decided not to join them.

There was a boy who Peter realized was a girl leaning against the wall watching the scrap. "They're wearing their good clothes," she said disapprovingly, and then bowed to him. "King Peter?"

Peter returned her bow, for this is what they do instead of shaking hands, in Narnia. "Lady, I do not know your name."

"Did you not find her agreeable, Sire?" asked Oreius when Peter confided this to him.

"Oh yes, she's a brave companion, only... I think I was meant to fall in love with her."

"Did you not find her fair?"

"Well... I suppose so," admitted Peter, "Only not any more than my sister."

"Your sister the Queen Susan is counted very fair," Oreius told him, and Peter was a little surprised, for boys never think their sisters are above tolerable.

"Oh," said Peter. He didn't know how to say that Beris was nice to look at, but nothing like the pound of the surf, or Aslan in front of the sun, or Oreius when he galloped.

They were enjoying one such meal, the Kings and Queens and other creatures who were present and hungry when the faun Tumnus came from the direction of the palace.

"Your majesties," said Tumnus, "I regret to inform you that the giant Rumblebuffin has got in a fight with the bear Uron."

"Again?" asked Edmund very gravely, and sounding very grown up, so that Peter took another look at him. Edmund had shot up while Peter was away, he realised now, and was now in a rather weedy stage in his growth.

"This time it is graver. In their fight they tore a limb from the tree of a Dryad."

"I'll deal with it," said Edmund, and Peter was rather startled to hear how adult he seemed. Tumnus nodded, as if the matter was settled.

In any case, Peter had learned, with Oreius' patient coaching, to be a decent farrier when no other was to be had. So he made sure to visit Oreius each day, in case his feet needed care, and in fairness to him, he really did believe this was the reason for his visits.

"Sire," Oreius would greet him each time, and Peter would never know why he was disappointed, but instead would say, "General."

Now on this occasion, Oreius' feet needed trimming as the earth around Caer Paravel was quite soft, and so it was that when Philip and Edmund cantered up they found Peter with a hoof in his lap and using language which I regret to say I cannot repeat in this sort of book.

"Sire!" Philip said in surprise, and Peter put down Oreius' right hind foot to straighten up.

"Good day, Philip, Brother," said Peter politely.

"Your majesty," said Philip politely, and then gave an embarrassed cough, (you will know the sort I mean, if you know a horse) "I wonder if you would look at my left forefoot? It's been giving me a bit of trouble."

"Of course--" Peter began, just as Oreius said:

"Cousin, you need not trouble his majesty. Please let me."

And Peter protested it was no trouble, but Oreius gave him quite a glare, and Philip was mortified, so that Peter let Oreius have his way, and finished with his hoof, while Philip and Edmund (who had dismounted) made polite conversation about the Calormen delegation.

"Really," said Philip, "they remind me of nothing so much as colts who will charge about the meadow saying rude things to their elders because they know they are still under their dam's protection."

"You were never such a colt, were you?" teased Edmund, and Philip blew in his ear in a fond way.

Oreius was smiling as if this sounded familiar to him, and Peter found he had quite a bit of difficulty imagining Oreius doing any such thing.

"Edmund, it was only this spring that you were tugging on my mane for fear of losing your seat."

"Ah, Philip, it is when you chide me I know you love me," said Edmund, throwing his arm over Philip's whithers.

Philip whickered and looked embarrassed but pleased. Peter rather wished he had Edmund's easy manners.

After Peter finished rasping Oreius foot, feeling rather awkward, Oreius knelt down to take a look at Philip's foot.

Now, here perhaps I should explain about a certain custom that the centaurs had, which may seem strange to you, but I dare say we have many customs which would seem odd to them. That custom was this: that whenever not at war it was their habit to go about unclothed, even the women, unless the weather was particularly nasty. And as centaurs take a fair bit from their horse-nature, it is only in particularly brutal weather that they bother to cover themselves. And why should they? For they were, as a people, finely made and had nothing to be ashamed of.

The reason I am telling you this is so that you may understand why Peter felt a bit awkward with Oreius brought down to his height. His own arms were nothing like as muscled, even after a year of hard work, and he told himself that was why he was blushing. So that you do not think he was rather stupid, I will tell you that Peter did know better, but he was not sure what to do with this knowledge, and so put it aside.

In any case, with Philip's foot looked at, ("Cracked," he had prophesied gloomily, but it was only a bit of gravel which Oreius had out at once,) Edmund and Philip started back up to the castle, bickering companionably.

When Edmund and Philip were out of earshot, Peter said, "You never use my name."

Oreius stayed kneeling, for really it was more convenient for conversation and said, seriously, "Would you like me to?" He did not add: "Sire."

"Yes," admitted Peter.

"It would be an honour."

At this Peter flushed hot all over and said, "It's-- Really I'm just a boy, you needn't--" and then stopped, feeling stupid.

"Peter," said Oreius. "I know in my heart that you will be one of the greatest Kings Narnia ever has."

Peter felt at once elated and miserable about this. Being a king may be glorious, but it is not easy. "I'm afraid sometimes," he admitted.

Oreius looked away, which was very odd of him, for centaurs are, as a rule, quite direct, and said, "I shall... I shall not leave you to do this alone."

And Peter who was quite clever, understood what he was saying, and greatly daring, stepped close to Oreius and kissed him, for in Narnia it is not sissy at all for a man to kiss another in this way.

This was just the beginning of their long friendship. They would go on to do many other things, some remembered in legend, like how they fought the Northern Giants to a peace agreement, and other things which are forgotten in this age. They did all of these things together, and many other things together besides, which if I told you about, your parents would not let you read this book, and indeed, they would be quite right.