Chapter Sixteen: Duties, Stories and a Ball

// Would it be beautiful?
Or just a beautiful disaster//

When she awoke in the morning, Buffy was more rested and more bewildered than she had been in days. It took her a few moments to realise that she was at the Telmarine castle and that they had won their big battle. The best thing was that for the first time in a week she was unaccompanied – no more snoring dwarfs or nocturnal emissions from Minotaurs – and that she was in a genuine bed and not on the floor.

A perfunctory knock sounded and in walked Peter, causing her to quickly pull the covers up over her head. “Peter? What are you doing here?”

“I told Susan and Lucy that I’d wake you up.”

“Well… I’m awake.”

“And I am curious,” he muttered.

Buffy peeked over the top of her blanket, “About what?”

“What you have got on under that blanket…”

“Want to see?”

Peter swallowed nervously, “Maybe I should just wait outside until you’re ready…”

“Okay,” she replied dropping the covers and jumping out of the bed. She didn’t even make an attempt to hold in the amusement at the expression on Peter’s face when he saw the night dress – trust a male to presume that a girl would sleep naked in a strange castle.

“That was not funny,” he told her walking out into the hallway.

“Yes it was,” she yelled at his back.

She went over to the closet and looked at the dresses that she had been given. They were all made of the utmost quality materials and all in shades of green and gold. Quickly she selected a green one and dressed, once again finding that she was not capable of fastening the corset-like ties on the back of it.

She stuck her head out of the door, “Pete… would you come in for a minute?”

“Yes,” he replied walking through the door.

She turned around and showed him her dilemma, “Help!”

He came over and fastened the ties, “How did you ever get dressed without me?”

When they came down the stairs and entered the dining room, each person was there all ready and waiting for them with the exception of Caspian – who had apparently been whisked away by the professor and some of his new advisors. They ate the delicious food that was put out for them and then waited with the others for Caspian’s return.

He did so a little while later with some information or the Kings and Queens of old and he included Buffy right along with them – who knows why. His proclamation was that his advisors thought that the Narnians and the Telmarines would benefit form a victory parade and a ball – to see the new and the old royalty cooperating and the so-called heroes of the war.

Everybody, with one exception, enthusiastically agreed. Buffy just had to say no way. She was not royalty, or a hero and she did not do parades. When they raised objections, she pointed out that just because she would not be in it with them, it did not mean that she would not watch them parade through the streets or attend the ball.

As they all dispersed to go and get prepared, she sighed in reprieve and used the unanticipated time alone to indulge her inquisitiveness and investigate the castle. She wandered the passageways and found many rooms that had the exact same purpose – there were two libraries and four different garden rooms. It was then that she found her way to the professor’s study…

“Buffy, isn’t it?” the older man asked without even looking up.

“Uh – yes.”

He finally looked at her, “Why are you not parading through the streets?”

“I’m not exactly interested in parading anywhere,” she told him. “Besides… it’s their time to stand out and not mine. I just did what I was told too and nothing more.”

The professor smiled at her, “Have you ever read the old stories? There are several here about High King Peter…”

“Really?” her interest was strengthened.

“Here,” he said patting an empty chair next to him. “Let me show you them.”

Buffy spent the majority of the morning and afternoon with the professor, listening to and reading the tales of old – more than ever enjoying the insight and blackmail information she had gained on a particular High King. When it was time, she and the professor made their way to a nearby balcony and watched their friends’ parade through the crowded street and soak up the limelight.

After it was over she bid the professor goodbye and returned to her room. Hanging on the door to the closet, she saw that a maid had selected a gown for her to wear that night; it was appealing – gold in colour with green embroidery and gauze like skirting over the bottom of the dress.

With nothing better to do she lay down on the double bed and contemplated how to spend the rest of her day. After all it did not take forever to dress and there were more than a number of hours left in which to do so. Instead she relaxed, thinking about all of the titbits of information she had gathered and as she did so she drifted off to sleep.

She awoke when she heard the click that indicated that her door was opening, but she remained motionless, lulling the intruder into a fictitious sense of security. When she could sense that they were almost on top of her location, she reached up grabbing them around the throat and flipping them over her and onto the bed, finishing up with her straddling them.

She looked down and saw who it was, “Peter?”

“Hello!”

“What are you doing now?”

Peter looked up at her, “I was just – uh – coming to wake you up… with a kiss.”

“Oh, well… that was sweet of you,” she replied turning pink. “Sorry I – uh – attacked you.”

“It’s fine.”

Buffy smiled briefly, “Maybe I should get off…”

Peter rolled them over and pulled her underneath him, “I think you should stay right here.”

He kissed her passionately and she responded with desperation that was new to her, both of them pressed their bodies more firmly against each other and she gasped as his fingers trailed up her bare leg towards… That’s when they were interrupted by a knock and Lucy’s voice drifting through the door.

“Buffy… are you okay?”

Peter rolled off her and she sat up, “I’m fine, Lu. I was just taking a nap.”

Lucy went away, but Peter made no move to recommence their previous positions or endeavour. It was very nearly like he was feeling shame about his behaviour. After some of the things she had read about that day, maybe he just wasn’t all that interested in her that way, despite his claim of love.

So she chose the safe route, “Aren’t you going to get ready for tonight?”

Peter at long last looked at her again, “Do I have too?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t even like *him*…”

“You do,” she told him. “If you didn’t it wouldn’t bother you so much about him and Susan.”

“Maybe you’re right… but she’s my little sister.”

“And she’s always going to be, no matter who or what comes into both of your lives.”

“When did you get so smart?”

Buffy laughed, “It has to be the Narnian air. Back home I am not known for the power of my brain cells…”

“I doubt that,” he told her. He got off of the bed and said, “I’ll come back to escort you down.”

“Peter…”

“Yes?”

“Before you go… the dress…”

The ball had been going on for more than three hours and even though she’d had fun at the start, she was tremendously sick of eating, making small talk and dancing with the eight million Telmarines who had heard about her battle skills and wished to see if they transferred to the bedroom. Peter, Edmund and Caspian had disappeared ages ago and had left Susan and Lucy to act as hostesses.

When the three of them in due course returned, they all looked worse for wear. Peter approached her and it was almost immediately evident why this was so. The three of them were drunk and Buffy hypothesized that some obsolete macho Narnian male bonding ritual must have occurred.

Peter kept stroking her hair, “You look *so* pretty…”

“You look drunk.”

“N-no…” he answered. “W-wine loves me.”

“I think that’s the other way round, big boy.”

She ended up helping him to his room, but halfway there he decided to pass out and she determined it easier to just dump him in her own room. After all it was not like she had not slept next to him before and no one was going to be any the wiser anyway. She put him on the bed and quickly disrobed and put on her night dress, climbing in next to the big booze hound.

Hours later she was still awake, powerless to relax her mind enough to fall asleep – a problem Mr snore-happy did not have. Images of earlier rushed through her mind at a mile a minute and she was torn between ignoring it and waking him up to see what condition he was in.

Suddenly she noticed the snoring had stopped and that Peter was moving about, she stayed still and let him work out where he was. He rolled over to face her and mumbled, “Am I in your room?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he answered, snuggling closer to her. “That means I don’t have to come down the passageway in the middle of the night and sneak in.”

“What?”

Peter still looked haggard, but he was smiling like normal. “I was going to make a move…”

“A move?”

“I have been very patient. I didn’t do anything when you were changing in the treasure hold or naked in the river or wearing my shirt while you were so wet that it clung to *everything*. I just sat there and tortured myself. But earlier…well, you seemed to be interested…”

“Peter?”

“What?”

“Shut up and kiss me all ready.”

Peter looked a little bit shocked, more or less like he had expected her to rebuff him or something along those lines. He pulled her into his arms fusing his lips with her own, showing her how he actually felt about her. She closed her eyes as his lips left her own and made their way down the side of her face to the exceptionally susceptible spot under her ear lobe, causing her to gasp.

As he continued his downward exploration and started to pull her night dress aside, slight panic took over. “Peter?”

“Ummm…”

“I… i-it’s just… I’ve never…”

He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes, “I… there’s something I need to tell you. When I was King… before…”

“I sort of know all ready,” she told him. “I read the stories about you earlier…”

“You did?”

“It’s just if you did even half of what they said you did… What do you want with me?”

He kissed her, “Back then… they didn’t mean anything. It was a sort of recreation.”

“Right… Am I just recreation?”

“Never,” he admitted. “You matter more to me than anything.”

“So I’m special…”

He stroked her hair back from her face, “You always have been to me. If you are not entirely sure about this, I can wait…”

“You might be able too, but I can’t,” she replied pulling his lips back to hers.

She felt his hands move to the fastenings at the front of her night dress, loosening them with practiced ease to allow himself better access to what lay underneath. In return she undid the buttons along the shoulder of the dress tunic he was still wearing from earlier. Her hands were trembling so awfully that she could only just complete the task.

Peter pulled back slightly again, “Buffy, we can stop. You don’t have to…”

“I want too,” she whispered back. “I’m just a little nervous. What if I disappoint you?”

“That can’t happen.”

“How can you know…?”

He grabbed her face between his hands and forced her uncertain green eyes to meet his positive blue, “Because I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Peter pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the floor before kissing her again and lowering her down the bed. She could feel his weight on top of her imprisoning her between him and the mattress; meeting his eyes again she wordlessly vowed to go with the sensations and her instincts and to try to put ineffective thoughts from her head.

With his lips stilled inches from her own, Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck and brought their lips together once more. His lips began to roam again and she enthusiastically gave herself over to the sensations Peter was creating within her this time. Not satisfied with being still, her hands roamed his muscular shoulders and arms and then retraced her path. Touching his neck, his ear and ending with her in due course threading her fingers through his hair.

His mouth travelled down, his hand moving the night dress to the side and licked one of Buffy’s nipples, satisfied at its more or less instantaneous pebbling and the small whimper that erupted from her. His mouth closed completely around it, his tongue teasing it until she was withering against him and then he went to work on its twin.

His other hand caressed its way down her body until he found the edging of the distasteful night dress and investigated underneath it. Running his hand up her thigh, he was shocked to find that she was wearing no underwear and slipped his fingers inside of her. He stroked her gently, his fingers moving easily due to the fact she was already slick with desire. As she bucked beneath him he applied a little pressure and a relentless rhythm to her nub, causing her to explode and let out a shriek of pleasure.

She was a little bewildered as he climbed off of the bed and so she sat up ready to make an objection, until she realised that he was simply removing the rest of his clothing. This encouraged her voyeuristic predisposition, watching closely as he removed his pants and underwear. She was more than a little shocked when she saw his erection; it looked nothing like the naughty pictures that she and Willow had looked up on the internet.

When Peter came back to her, she prepared for his kiss and was disenchanted when it did not take place. Instead he lifted the night dress off of her and tossed it somewhere far away from the bed and her reach. Embarrassed to be unclothed in front of him, she tried to grab the sheets only to stop when he returned to the bed.

He stretched out next to her, the skin to skin contact making her quiver from a combination of nerves and anticipation. They kissed, exploring each others mouths and she nibbled bashfully on his lips. In this new position she could feel a heaviness and a warmth against her leg where he rested against her.

Peter moved over her, kneeling between her thighs and parted her with his fingers. She began to be aware of something much thicker and longer than his fingers pushing slowly inside her, stretching her. It was unpleasant, but not intolerable, as he continued to thrust his way inside.

Putting his weight onto his arms, he moved back up her body, kissing her and whispering softly. “This will hurt.”

“It’s all right.”

He pressed through the barrier that signified her innocence and she struggled for breath at the pain – although she had been warned, it was still slightly surprising - and bit down on his shoulder, leaving a wound of her own on him. When he was altogether inside he stilled and allowed her to get adjust to him and to his invasion.

After a few minutes he began to move within her, thrusting in and out. To help her with the rhythm, Peter made certain to go gradually, but after a while he was the one struggling to keep up. She was before long a absolute contributor, enthusiastic and inquisitive and by the time Peter was feeling the recognizable tingle that signified his own release, she had already come once more and as he experienced his, she received another.

He rolled off of her and onto his back, moments later pulling her back into his arms as she snuggled in lovingly to him, just before he fell asleep. She was unquestionably contented and taking into consideration that he was now asleep, she could safely take for granted that she had exhausted him – for now. Closing her eyes she put her head onto his chest and fell asleep to the beating of his heart.

End Part

Lyrics:

Kelly Clarkson – Beautiful Disaster