Percy Hart

Susan did not interrupt him.

Not once.

She remained where she was beside him, still as stone and twice as steady, her hands folded loosely in her lap once he had pulled away. She did not press him when his voice faltered, nor rush to fill the silence when it broke. Some truths demanded space to be spoken, and she would grant him that much—at the very least.

But as he spoke, something within her shifted.

Horror came first, sharp and cold, settling deep in her chest. Then grief—quiet, heavy, and enduring. By the time he finished, there was something else beneath it all: a calm, resolute anger, the kind that did not flare or fade, but endured.

When he fell silent, she let the quiet linger for a moment longer—not out of hesitation, but out of respect for what it had cost him to speak.

At last, she moved.

Slowly, gently, she reached for him again—this time with greater certainty—and gathered his hands back into hers, holding them firmly, as though to anchor him to the present.

“Percival,” she said softly.

There was no pity in her voice. Only care. Only truth.

“What was done to you was a grave wrong.” Her fingers tightened ever so slightly around his. “You were a child, placed in harm’s way, and made to suffer for the cruelty and ambition of a man who should have protected you.” Her gaze did not waver from his face. “There is no world in which that is just. Nor any crown that would condone it.”

Her expression softened then, though the resolve beneath it did not lessen.

“I am deeply sorry that you endured such things—and that you were made to carry them alone for so long.”

For a brief moment, she hesitated—then allowed herself a small, careful gesture, lifting one hand to brush lightly against his hair, smoothing back a curl from his face as one might soothe a frightened child. The motion was instinctive, gentle, and quickly stilled, her hand returning to his.

“You will not be made to face him again,” she continued, more firmly now. “Not unless it is by your own choosing. That much, I can promise you without hesitation.”

There was a quiet shift in her tone then—not colder, but steadier. Queenly.

“As for your father… what you have told me will not be ignored.” She did not elaborate further—not here, not now—but the certainty in her voice was unmistakable. “He will be dealt with carefully. And those he might seek to harm will be safeguarded.”

Her gaze softened once more as she looked back to Percy.

“You have done a difficult thing in speaking of this,” she said gently. “You need not say more tonight, if you have no strength left for it.”

A pause.

“Would you like to remain here a while longer,” she asked, quieter now, “or shall I see you somewhere you may rest without fear of being disturbed?”

#verse: lost and found #thegentletm

Percy just shook his head. "His ambition will be the death of us all." He let the queen keep hold of his hands this time, instead of pulling away. He shrugged his shoulders as she apologized for his pain...like it was her fault. It wasn't her fault, and he hadn't told her for sympathy, or pity. He hated the pity.

He felt a pain in his heart as she brushed the hair off his forehead, a motion achingly familiar. It was a motion his mother had done a thousand times or more. He missed Mama. "I can't even see my mother." He said softly. "I can't..."

The realization hit him like a lead weight. He was an idiot for not realizing it before. Mama wasn't avoiding him, not by her own choice. "He won't let me see my mother." He said softly, voicing it aloud making it more real to him. "Not unless I go back to him...grovel for his attention..."

He pulled out from her grasp again, his fingers immediately finding his scar again. "I just realized it now...of course that's what he's doing...I'm an idiot for not realizing sooner, for blaming-" He cut himself off before he could finish the thought. Before the guilt hit him that he'd been blaming his mother for something that was obviously his father's fault.

He paused, looking at the scar on his hand. Had Mama actually forgotten his birthday that year? Or had something else happened? Some unknown slight that made Father punish them both? The world seemed to tilt on its axis as he considered this information.

"I was 15 when I did this." He said, showing Queen Susan the scar. "I wasn't...I wasn't trying to die...but I didn't really care if I did." He looked up at her face. "He wouldn't let my mother come, even after learning I had tried to kill myself. No, they sent my little sister...she was 10. What did she know about helping her suicidal older brother?"

He shook his head, trying not to get swamped in the memories...in the guilt. "It was Arlise who saved me." He said, slightly changing the subject. He didn't think he could handle talking about Father anymore. "She's my best friend."

#verse: forgive my northern attitude #sebastien hart #willian hart #morrigan astra #maeve astra #arryn hart #emiliana hart #you will always be my heart's treasure // emiliana #pippa hart #two bodies one soul // pippa #my edits #edits

“ Yes, and I’m not truly a princess, now am I? ” she whispered back, a rare flicker of mischief lighting her expression as she winked at him. “ And don’t sell yourself short. You never know… you may yet become one of the youngest knights in the realm. ” Her brows lifted in playful challenge, but her voice carried something deeper — quiet certainty. She believed in him utterly.

As they turned beneath the glittering lights, Arlise’s gaze wandered across the ballroom, still awed by the sheer grandeur of it all. “ I never imagined Christmas would be so… much, ” she murmured. “ At home we celebrated quietly. Modestly. Away from my father. ” Her smile faltered. “ He thought it all nonsense. ”

For a heartbeat she drifted elsewhere — to her sisters, to her mother, to the hollow ache left behind. To the bitter, childish thought she still couldn’t entirely bury: that it should have been him instead.

The music pulled her back. Percy’s steady hand at her back grounded her as they moved together. She wasn’t a poor dancer anymore — not after all her lessons — but nerves still tugged at her confidence. Her eyes betrayed her again and again, flicking downward toward her feet before darting back up. The Naerions would scold her later, she was sure.

Then Percy spoke.

The warmth in his voice made her cheeks bloom pink. “ Thank you, Percy, ” she said softly, her smile shy but sincere. She had never thought herself pretty — never even considered the possibility — but if he saw it, perhaps one day she might too.

“ I am enjoying it, ” she continued, voice lighter now. “ It can feel overwhelming at times, but it’s lovely. Truly. ” She glanced around at the revelry, still amazed. “ To think the Telmarines have always known Christmas. Always had this magic. ”

Her eyes returned to him, gentler. “ How are you enjoying it all? ”

#verse: lost and found #lost twin found twin // arlise

"I'd have to do something heroic to be knighted." He said plainly. "And I am far from heroic." He let out a sigh, glancing around the room. "My father thought it all nonsense too, but appearances had to be kept."

He looked back at her face as they continued to swirl around the room. Her cheeks had a rosy hue from blushing, and he couldn't help but think it made her even prettier. It made her look alive; something he certainly hadn't appeared since he arrived here.

He shrugged at her question. "I don't know. I guess I'm ambivalent." He didn't want to ruin her mood with his own dark thoughts. The song was nearly over. He could return her to her happiness and go sulk in dark corners alone.

"I keep wishing my sisters could see it." He blurted out instead. Why did he do this? What was it about Arlise that always had him spilling his soul? "Especially Emmie. She'd be so delighted by it all." He looked up toward the ceiling, trying to hide the pain from his expression. What a mood killer he was.

Status: closed except for @thehealertm

Location: Cair Paravel Castle, Narnia

Date: Evening, June 30, 2500

The last golden rays of the sun were fading into something darker...something colder, and still Percy sat unmoved. It had been hours now, but he continued to cradle Em's body, as it too grew colder. They had tried to take her away, the clergy, Will, even Pip; but Percy wouldn't let them. He couldn't seem to let go of her.

Pippa had closed Em's eyes, so she looked like she was sleeping. Softly, Percy stroked her hair, as he had done countless times before. If he focused on her face and her white gold hair, he didn't have to remember what had happened that afternoon. He didn't have to remember crimson blood pouring out of her. He didn't have to remember that horrible, strangled gurgling as she told him she was scared. He didn't have to remember her last breaths coming in panicked gasps.

He had seen people die before...die by violence...by his hand. But to see it happen to Em...to see it happen to his beautiful baby sister, while he was powerless to stop it...it was too much to bear. So, he stroked her hair and stared at her peaceful face, and he didn't think about it. Because she was dead. Whatever had happened with Polaris, wherever her soul had gone; the undeniable fact was that Em was dead. She was never coming back.

He heard the soft footsteps enter the hall, slowly approaching him. He felt the familiar hand stroke his hair before slipping down his cheek to his chin, turning his face to look at her. He stared into those familiar eyes, knowing what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth.

"I can't let her go, Zin." He said softly, shaking his head. "I can't-" he sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold his composure. "If I let her go...then she'll really be gone...and she can't be gone." His voice cracked in a way it hadn't in years.

#but would you live for me // tamzin #you will always be my heart's treasure // emiliana #verse: until i saw your light

paper-wounds

#musings

theenchantingtm

“Hm.” Rayne gave a thoughtful hum as she listened to Percival’s halting explanation. His words were weighed carefully in her mind. It was, she supposed, entirely possible that the Naerions had simply forgotten that he was a Hart and not truly an Astra—yet she could not say the notion wholly convinced her.

“Mayhap they did forget,” she allowed at length. “Or mayhap it is but another thread woven into the strange tale that surrounds this mysterious Princess Arlise—a maiden of whom I had never once heard, nor set eyes upon, in all my years within the Telmarine court.”

Her voice was not unkind, though there was a quiet firmness beneath it. One brow arched ever so slightly as she regarded him, the gesture itself a silent question.

“And yet, all at once, they are able to present an heir fit to wed King Edmund—when their own Princess Seroreah refused the match on account of her affection for another.”

After a moment, Rayne’s tone softened.

“Though I bear the girl no ill will, pray do not mistake me. From what I have heard she seems pleasant enough, and agreeable in her manners. Yet the court is already alive with the wildest rumors. Some whisper that the two of you are twins; others claim something far less fitting—that you are lovers besides.” She gave a small, amused breath. “I trust that particular tale is naught but idle fancy, Percival.”

At last a warmer smile touched her lips.

“And you have my thanks. Princess Zea has swiftly become the very center of my world. I cannot now imagine my life without her. It is a great joy to have given King Peter an heir at last.”

She regarded him kindly then, the sharpness of courtly scrutiny easing.

“And Percival—truly, it is good to see you returned to court after so long an absence.”

#verse: lost and found #theenchantingtm

Percy prickled at the now familiar accusations. He didn't even know how the rumors had started in Telmar, since it should have been obvious to anyone with eyes that Cait was his lover, not Arlise...but now they had followed them to Narnia. He didn't care about the hit to his own reputation, but rather the insult to Arlise's character...to her virtue. Her position was precarious enough without this added nonsense.

He knew, however, that hostility never worked to dispel such rumors. Instead, he did what he did best. He put on his most charming court smile, cocking his head to the side as he took in Queen Rayne. "Well, Your Majesty, you know better than anyone that she's not my twin, seeing as you are well acquainted with my very blonde twin." His mind flicked to his sister for a moment, different to Arlise in practically every way.

"As to the other baseless rumors, I shall hope you use your own careful judgement of my character. Do I really seem the type to steal the virtue of a princess of House Naerion...one betrothed to our Just King since childhood?" He studied her face for a moment before leaning in conspiratorially, a smirk moving his lips. "Or does it seem more like something my brother would be accused of?" He asked in a quieter tone.

Since his return, Percy had heard all about Willian's reputation here at court. An insatiable flirt, a different lover every month, whispers of a mistress kept in town. Of course, he hadn't been able to gauge for himself the accuray of these rumors, as his brother had not yet made an appearance since Percy's return. He doubted the sincerity of all the claims, but didn't doubt that Will himself was probably behind them...all a calculated attempt to further embarrass and enrage Father.

Percy returned his focus to the rest of Queen Rayne's words, however. A genuine smile graced his lips as she spoke of her daughter. "The whole of Narnia rejoices at her birth." He said sincerely. Blush returned to his cheeks as he took in her last remark. It is good to see you returned to court. "I thank you, Your Majesty...though I fear besides my sister, you are probably the only one to think so." He looked down at the floor, trying not to think of the absence of his brothers...of his mother's caged interactions with him, only ever in public...it hurt too much to think about.

Arlise’s body convulsed again as the last of the icy lake water spat from her lungs, each ragged breath burning through her chest. Her fingers dug into the wet sand as though anchoring herself to the world she had tried to leave. She was breathing. Alive. Pulled back from the end she had wanted so desperately to reach.

Percy’s hand on her back was a lifeline, steady and warm, though she barely had the strength to acknowledge it. She didn’t feel anger at him—not now. If their positions had been reversed, she would have done exactly the same thing. He hadn’t failed her; he had saved her.

It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the light, to lift them without squinting. The sky was gray and heavy, yet after the darkness beneath the water it felt blinding. Every sound was overwhelming—the wind in the trees, the rush of water along the shore, Percy’s voice.

Her chest heaved, still burning from coughing and gasping for air. “ Percy— ” she managed, her voice hoarse and fragile, broken by another spasm of coughs. “ I… I saw him. ” Her words trembled, caught in the raw edges of fear and memory.

The memory of that morning surged through her—the terror of seeing her father again, his face twisted with greed and rage, the weight of all the uncertainty pressing down on her. She had run, she had fled, and when the lake embraced her it had been the only place that felt like it might offer even a moment of control.

Her body shook as another coughing fit racked her, lungs aching and burning, but she forced out the words between desperate gulps of air. “ I… didn’t know if… they would protect me. I didn’t know what… would happen if he took me. ”

Her hands trembled in the sand, her eyes glistening with the raw aftermath of fear and near-death. “ I… I wasn’t leaving you, ” she whispered, voice fragile. “ I just… I was trying to get away from him. ”

#verse: lost and found #lost twin found twin // arlise

The anger went out of him then, replaced with a profound sadness. He understood that fear. If he saw his own father again right now, he didn't know what he'd do either...maybe he'd run into the lake as well.

"I'll protect you." He said softly, collapsing onto the sand beside her as exhaustion swept over him. He stared into her eyes, red and raw and full of tears. "I'm never going to let anyone hurt you again...not ever." He meant it too. He'd rather die than let someone hurt Leezy.

"I'm even getting better at my sword work." He cracked a small smile, trying to show her he wasn't angry anymore. Aunt Jo had told him he had a destructive energy, and rather than turning it inward on himself, he should turn it outward into something productive...something that made him feel better, and safer. So, she'd set him up training with the guard. It was work he had done most of his life, but never truly put effort into until now.

Slowly, Percy reached out and took Arlise's hand. "Please don't leave me." He said, his voice quiet and pleading. He could hear Maeve coming back towards them, and wanted to soak in this last moment alone. "Please, Leezy."

“ You lost your twin? ” Arlise breathed, gently loosening her hold so she could look at him properly.

The way he described it — feeling her in his heart, as if they shared something invisible and sacred — made her chest tighten. It was beautiful. Painful, but beautiful. She had always imagined it might be that way between her and Jacquetta. That there would be some thread, some pull beneath her ribs that told her when her sister was afraid or cold or alone.

But there had never been anything like that.

“ I lost mine too, ” she said softly. “ Jacquetta. And our little sister. ” Her voice wavered, but she pushed through it. “ I don’t know where they are. I don’t know if they made it somewhere safe… or if they’re still running. I can’t feel her the way you feel your sister. ” A faint, sorrowful smile flickered across her lips. “ I’ve tried. I’ve tried to listen for her. But there’s only silence. ”

Fresh tears welled in her eyes.

“ All I can do is hope, ” she whispered. “ Hope she’s warm. Hope she’s fed. Hope someone kinder than my father found them. ” Her fingers twisted lightly in the fabric of her skirt. “ I’m grateful she didn’t endure what I did… but sometimes that makes it worse. Because I don’t know what she is enduring. ”

She lifted her gaze back to Percy’s, gentler now, full of understanding.

“ I’m so sorry you feel that distance, ” she murmured. “ To have something so strong and feel it thinning… that must hurt in a way that’s hard to name. ”

She squeezed his hand softly. “ Maybe it isn’t gone. Maybe it’s just stretched — like you said. Threads don’t snap easily when they’ve been woven that long. ”

#lost twin found twin // arlise #verse: lost and found

Percy stared down at his hands, thinking about just how much they apparently had in common. "I have a little sister, too. Em...I worry about her." He looked back up at Arlise. "Father doesn't pay her any mind, but she's just little...and sweet. Too sweet." He looked away from her face again. "My father will ruin her...like he ruined me..."

Before he could say more, he heard running feet approaching. "Percy! There you are!" Morrigan appeared at the entrance to the terrace, breathing hard. "I have been looking all over for you! What are you-Your highness!" She noticed Arlise for the first time, and dropped into a curtsy.

Percy felt a little bad. Morrigan had clearly been worried about him. She took being an older sister quite seriously, and she'd clearly decided Percy was now a younger sibling too. "I'm fine, Morrigan." He said with a sigh.

"Begging Your Highness's pardon, I'm afraid I have to steal Percival away now. My mother is looking for him." Morrigan held out her hand. "Come along now, Percy."

Percy turned his attention back to Arlise. "Can we meet here again tomorrow?" He asked hopefully.

"Percy, you know Mama doesn't like you out here." Morrigan said. Sensing his disappointment, she quickly added, "But Her Highness is always welcome to come visit the Astra apartments. It would be an honor to have her."

Percy again looked expectantly at Arlise. "Please say you'll come." He said, squeezing her hand. She was the first friend he'd made here, and he desperately wanted to see her again.

Her nerves fluttered wildly, but not because of Percy. The fear wasn’t about him—it was about herself, about the possibility of stumbling, of doing something wrong, of looking foolish. But how could she truly be? This would be both of their first kisses. Neither of them had any secret knowledge, no practiced grace. They would be learning together.

What frightened her more was the thought of Edmund—handsome, charming Edmund—having lived a life already touched by romance. She imagined him pressing kisses to the lips of other women long before she ever reached him. Perhaps more than kisses. The thought sent a warm rush to her cheeks, and she swallowed it away.

“ I—of course I’m not joking, ” she said softly, her fingers tightening around Percy’s hands. “ That would be terribly cruel to joke about. I would never do that to you. ” She shook her head, her curls shifting gently around her shoulders as she looked up at him. It felt different now—looking up at Percy. He’d grown without her even noticing. Taller, steadier. It suited him far too well.

When his fingers absently caught a strand of her hair, Arlise stilled for a moment. The touch was gentle, familiar in a way that tugged at old comforts—her mother’s soothing hands, her sisters’ playful braids. The warmth of it made her chest ache with something soft and fond, and she leaned ever so slightly into the feeling before she even realized she had.

“ We’ve both had so much taken from us, ” she murmured, her voice quieter now, earnest and trembling with sincerity. “ Too many choices made for us. Too many moments stolen without asking. ” Her gaze lifted to his again, full of fragile courage. “ I think… I think we deserve one thing that belongs entirely to us. One kiss because we choose it. Not out of duty. Not out of fear. Just because we want it. Because we trust each other. ”

She gave his hands another gentle squeeze.

“ Don’t you think we should have that? ”

#verse: lost and found #lost twin found twin // arlise

Percy didn't think. He wasn't sure he was even capable of thought in that moment. His body just seemed to know what to do, acting on an impulse he had tried to bury. His hands left hers, instead lifting to cup her face as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers. Gently at first, but more earnestly after a moment.

He could feel the heat of her body, smell the familiar scent of her hair. He couldn't help but realize that he liked it. He liked this. And he liked a lot more than he should.

Percy yanked his head back, though his hands didn't leave her face. He couldn't like Arlise. He couldn't. It would only end in heartbreak. But he couldn't help it. "I want to kiss you again." He whispered. "But you can tell me no."

Arlise melted into the embrace without hesitation, her arms wrapping tightly around him as if she meant to anchor him there permanently. She rested her cheek against his hair and closed her eyes.

“ I know, ” she whispered softly. And she did. She knew his apologies weren’t empty. She knew the guilt would gnaw at him the way it gnawed at her. But right now, he was warm and breathing in her arms, and that was enough.

For a moment she let herself imagine a future where the ache dulled — where the ghosts of lakes and letters and lost twins and unspeakable acts against them didn’t press in quite so sharply. Maybe one day the past wouldn’t feel like it was standing in the room with them.

When he spoke again, tentative and fragile, her heart squeezed.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, studying his face carefully as though the idea itself were something delicate.

“ A stand-in twin… ” she echoed quietly.

A faint, almost shy smile curved her lips. “ It’s funny you say that. ” She hesitated, suddenly aware of how much she was about to admit. “ Because I think… I think I may have already been doing that. In my heart. ”

Her fingers toyed absently with the fabric of his sleeve.

“ I don’t remember deciding it, ” she continued softly. “ It just… happened. Somewhere between the nightmares and the letters and all the days we’ve had to survive. ” Her eyes lifted to his again. “ You’ve felt like mine for a long time. ”

A small breath of laughter escaped her. “ And honestly? I dare say we resemble each other more than we ever did our actual twins. Same haunted eyes. Same dark hair. Same terrible timing. ” Her thumb brushed gently under his eye where tears had dried. “ Same stubborn refusal to let go. ”

Her expression gentled.

“ If you want to be my surrogate twin, Percy… I would be honored. ”

#verse: lost and found #lost twin found twin // arlise

Percy smiled brightly at her, leaning his face into her touch. Before he could say anything, however, the door flew open with a bang! He jumped, turning his attention just in time to see Tabitha sweep into the room, purpose written across her face.

"Percival Hart," she said, stalking across the room to him. "Don't you ever-" she punched him on his uninjured arm, hard. Before he could react however, she yanked him into a tight hug. "Scare me like that again." She continued, giving him one last squeeze before she pushed him back, her hands on his shoulders.

Percy glanced at Leezy, utterly confused. Tabitha was giving him whiplash. "I mean it." She said, studying his face for a moment. She tsked, clearly not liking what she saw. She stood and walked to the other end of the bed, where she began fluffing his pillows. "Nearly sent me to an early grave...same as the princess." She set the last pillow down. "Now, you're supposed to be resting, so lie back."

Percy glanced at Arlise again. What in the world was happening? "Master Percival, don't make me ask again." Tabitha put her hands on her hips. Normally, Percy would have pointed out that she hadn't exactly asked the first time, but in his current state, he decided to just do as he was told. He leaned his back against the pillows.

"Now, are you hungry?" Tabitha asked, as she spread a light blanket over him. He shook his head. He couldn't even think of food right now. Tabitha tsked again. "We have to build your strength back, so you'll have to have something." Gently, her finger caressed his cheek before she turned her attention on Arlise.

"You, as well, Your Highness. You haven't eaten in some time." Tabitha knelt down in front of Leezy, placing her hand over Leezy's, her tone much gentler than what she had used on Percy. "How about I bring some of your favorite sandwiches, hmm?" She stood up, and Percy noticed she had taken what looked like a piece of rope out of Arlise's hand. "I'll be back, then." She said, stroking Arlise's hair before turning on her heel and walking out the door.

Percy just stared at the door for several moments before slowly turning to look at Arlise again. "What just happened?" He asked softly.

Arlise had known, somewhere deep down, that she had let Percy drift. Not intentionally—never intentionally—but her life had begun moving at a dizzying pace, and she had barely been able to keep her footing.

Edmund had surprised her. What had begun as duty had unfolded into something warm and steady, something she found herself leaning toward without meaning to. She liked him. More than liked him. She sought him out in quiet moments, lingered in conversation, memorized the calm certainty in his voice. Being with him felt safe. It felt like the beginning of something bright.

And then Jacquetta and Meadow had been found and brought to Cair Paravel—for her.

The reunion had been overwhelming: tears, laughter, disbelieving touches as if they feared one another might vanish. For so long she had prepared herself for punishment, for suspicion, for exile when the truth of the Naerions came to light. Even if her hand had been forced, she had still played a part. But instead of condemnation, she had been granted grace.

For the first time in years, her life felt as though it was turning toward the sun.

It was only once the whirlwind settled—once joy became routine instead of revelation—that she noticed the absence.

Percy.

She had not meant to neglect him. He was not an old chapter to be closed, not a placeholder now replaced by blood. He had been her constant. Her shelter. Her twin in all the ways that mattered. Jacquetta’s return did not erase that; it only widened her heart.

So she went looking for him.

She expected awkwardness, perhaps distance. She did not expect to find him alone in a dim corridor, thunder shaking the castle walls—and a razor in his hand. For one suspended, unbearable second, she could not breathe. The clatter of metal against stone snapped the world back into motion. His name left her lips in a broken whisper. “ Percy— ”

Her heart pounded so violently it hurt. She had truly believed those days were behind him. That the darkness had loosened its grip. That they had both survived the worst of it. “ I thought… ” Her voice faltered, tears blurring her vision. “ I thought we were past this. ” Not accusation. Not anger. Just fear—raw and unguarded.

“ I didn’t know I still had to be afraid of losing you, ” she said softly. “ I thought we were going to build something new here. You and I. Side by side. Like we always have. ” She took a tentative step toward him, as though approaching something fragile and precious. “ You are not replaceable to me, Percy. Not by a crown. Not by a twin. Not by anyone. ” Her voice steadied, though her hands trembled. “ I am still yours. And you are still mine. In the ways that matter. ”

#verse: lost and found #lost twin found twin // arlise

Percy began to curl inward, hugging his knees to his chest. His eyes brimmed with tears as he lays his face on his knees, unable to look at her. He couldn't help but notice the difference in her reaction. Before, she would have rushed to his side; pulled him into her arms. But now...now she hesitated. Something was irreparably changed between them...maybe even irreparably broken.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He didn't know what was wrong with him, why the darkness had such a hold on him. Why he felt so lost. Maybe it was his conversation with Queen Susan. That had dredged up memories that he'd long buried...that he hasn't even told Arlise about.

But now, memories of wolves and dungeons and palaces of ice came rushing back to him. Why had Aslan cursed him so? Had he done something so horrible? He slowly lifted his head to look at Arlise. "I'm sorry I'm broken." His voice cracked as his tears began to fall.

Status: closed except for @thegracioustm

Location: Cair Paravel Castle

Time: late July, 1008

The past few weeks had been absolutely miserable for Percy. All he could think about was that last conversation with Cait. How his voice had cracked as he pleaded with her to choose him; how she had pulled away, obviously unable to do so. Now she was gone on her trip around Narnia and he regretted saying anything at all. He should have known better, he should have known he would never be enough for her. He didn't seem to be enough for anyone anymore.

All of Arlise's attention was on her fiance; the ruggedly handsome, perfectly polished King Edmund. Edmund Pevensie, who lived the life Percy had almost lived. The dark, curly haired second son and third child of prophecy. Prisoner of the White witch. But where Percy remained a prisoner, a useless child; Edmund had gained his freedom and gone on to defeat the witch and win a crown. Where Percy was a broken tortured soul with self-destructive tendencies, Edmund was a logical and level-headed leader unburdened by his past. In short, he was everything Percy would never be.

And now Edmund had Arlise, and they were falling sickeningly in love as Percy's love life spiraled down the drain. He had closed his heart years ago to Arlise in that way, but he still felt that burning sense of jealousy when he looked at them. And it didn't help that Arlise had also been reunited with her twin. Jaquetta seemed nice enough and Percy wanted to be happy for them; he was happy for them but he also couldn't help but feel like he was unneeded now. What use did she have for a surrogate twin when she had her real one.

Percy's two ties to stability these past five years, Cait and Arlise, had come undone, and Percy felt completely unmoored; adrift in an ocean of uncertainty and pain. His brothers still hadn't sought him out, and Mama only spoke to him in passing. And Pip, well it felt like every conversation with her turned into a fight, so he supposed some things never changed. But that familiarity did nothing to ease his mind; to ease that feeling that no one really needed him anymore.

Percy sat in an empty hallway, listening to a summer thunderstorm rage outside. The tempest matched his mood. Slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the razor he'd requested from one of the maids. There was no one to watch him now, no one who knew he wasn't to be trusted with such things unsupervised. Absent-mindedly, he began to flick it open and shut as his mind wandered.

He had thought he'd been getting better these past three years, but maybe he'd just been distracted. That nagging feeling had returned, the whispers about controlling his pain; about that sweet crimson relief. He propped his arm on his knee and stared at it. He could perfectly envision it, red blossoming against pale skin, the sting of the razor followed by a rush of something like ecstasy.

He hadn't realized he had lifted the razor until he felt the cold metal against his skin. It was like he snapped out of a trance, and he practically threw the razor away from himself. It clattered against the stones at the same time a gasp rang out. Percy's head shot up. "Leezy," he gasped, locking eyes with her. "I didn't-" he started to hold his arm up, but he had begun to shake so bad that he let it drop back down. His eyes pricked with tears he didn't want to fall. "I didn't actually..." He said, hearing his voice catch before it trailed off.

#verse: lost and found #arlise pevensie #thegracioustm #lost twin found twin // arlise

Susan did not look away from him.

“Yes,” she said quietly, and there was no hesitation in it. “I promise.” The word carried weight when she spoke it—not lightly given, nor easily broken. “No one will be harmed. Not your mother. Not your sisters. Not anyone who depends upon him.”

She held his gaze, her expression solemn, resolute. This was not the gentle reassurance of a courtly platitude, but a vow made in full awareness of what it might cost her to keep it. Susan Pevensie did not offer such promises unless she intended to see them fulfilled.

Only then did she lean closer, careful, measured, mindful of how easily he might retreat. Slowly, she reached for his hand once more, enclosing it in her own—warm, steady, grounding. Her thumb brushed lightly against his knuckles, a subtle attempt to still the restless movement of his fingers before they could worry at old wounds again.

“You may speak freely with me, Percy,” she murmured. “Nothing you say here will be used to punish you—or to endanger those you love.” Her voice softened further. “I will not act rashly. I will not confront him. And I will not set events in motion that leave your mother unprotected.”

She paused, allowing the silence to breathe, to give him space rather than press him into confession.

“But if you wish to tell me,” Susan continued gently, “then tell me the truth. Tell me what your father has done. Tell me why he should not be permitted a place in my court—or a hold over any of your lives.”

Her eyes remained on him, unwavering, patient.

“I am listening.”

#verse: lost and found #thegentletm #thegentle01 #tw: child abuse #tw: sexual assault

Percy was surprised at where his tongue decided to start. "Did you know he wanted us to be you?" He said. "He forced my mother to have my sister, knowing that the witch would hunt us for it...kill us for it." He looked down at their joined hands. "We lied about her, every time the wolves came asking. There's only three of us, we'd say." He wanted to rub at his scar, but knew she didn't want him to.

"She didn't believe us. She demanded a hostage for Father's good behavior. And my father gave her me." Percy looked back up at Susan's face, into her warm and gentle eyes. He'd never told anyone about his time with the white witch, not even Leezy. How could he, when no one else would understand? But now, here was someone who would.

"Sebastien was too important, and Philippa too likely to fight back, so little Percival had to go. I was ten." His mouth felt like it was full of ashes, as he looked away from the queen, staring off into the distance instead. "It was...awful. Six weeks I was there. Six weeks alone with the witch and her wolves..." He glanced back at the queen. "And then you showed up...or, your brother did anyway..." he pulled his hand back out of hers again. "And then we weren't important anymore."

He didn't want to mention the rest. How the witch had taken young King Edmund and left; leaving him alone in a frozen cell. How he thought he might starve to death, until someone heard him crying in the abandoned castle. How Father hadn't even spoken to him when he finally found him, after the battle was over and the Pevensies would sit the throne instead of the Harts.

"Father hated that we weren't important. Hated that us children had failed him. He wasn't exactly kind to begin with, but after the battle...things just kept getting worse. Every mistake punished harshly, and willfully going against his wishes?" Percy shuddered, looking down at his feet now. This was the moment. Could he do it?

"When I was thirteen, my brother Will had this...this girlfriend." He could already feel the bile creeping up his throat, as it always did when he thought of that night. He hoped he wouldn't vomit in front of the queen. "Father did not approve. Forbid Will from continuing to see her...Will did it anyway."

He swallowed hard, fighting down the rising acid. "You see, she was..." He hadn't spoken of Alysa in years...since he'd told Leezy what happened. He didn't even know what happened to Alysa afterwards. "She was the daughter of the village brothel owner. Not a who-" he stopped himself before he said a vulgar word in front of royalty. "Not a...a woman of the night, but to Father, she might as well have been."

His hands began to shake again, and he clenched them into fists. He sucked in a deep breath. He could do this. He had to do this. "He was enraged that Will would defy him so...but Father...Father can be so...calculating. Cold. He devised the perfect way to ensure Will would never sleep with Alysa again."

Percy shut his eyes as his heart began to hammer in his chest. He didn't want to relive this next part. Didn't want to admit to what had happened. But it was the only way. The only way to be rid of Father. He swallowed hard and continued, eyes still shut, pulling his knees tight to his chest again. "He decided that it was time for me to be...be made a man." He swallowed back bile as he repeated his father's words from that night. "And Alysa was the one who was going to do it. So, he beat me senseless and bloody, and then threw me on a bed and...and..." He couldn't do it. He couldn't repeat the rest of the story.

He opened his eyes, looking up at the ceiling as tears stung at his eyes. No. He wouldn't cry, not now. He sucked in several deep breaths, trying to regain his composure. Finally, he returned his gaze to the queen. "He had me violated at thirteen...just to spite my brother. That's the kind of man he is."

He shook his head. "I don't even know what happened to Alysa...after..." He raised a hand to wipe at his eyes. "I was...not well, after. Wildly swinging between catatonic and in a state of panic. So, Mother sent me to stay with her sister in Telmar and I never saw any of them again...until today."

“Who, Percy?” Susan asked gently. “Who would he hurt?”

Concern etched itself more deeply into her expression as she followed his movement, allowing him to pull free of her grasp without resistance. Still, she remained close, hands loose at her sides, ready—should he reach out again, or should fear drive him to flee.

Her voice lowered, steady and calm. “You can tell me,” she murmured. “You are safe here.”

She considered his words carefully before continuing. “Your father need not lose his position outright. There are… other ways to manage a troublesome noble without provoking their wrath.”

Even as she spoke, her mind turned quietly, methodically. This was a matter that would require discretion—and counsel. Edmund, in particular, had always possessed a talent for such things: guiding men from court with their pride intact and their paths redirected elsewhere, convinced it had been their own idea all along. A carefully chosen task. A distant obligation. Promises of honor, of advancement. Lucan Hart’s ego would do the rest.

But that was for later.

For now, Susan’s attention remained wholly on the boy before her, curled in on himself, carrying fears no child should have to shoulder alone. She softened her tone once more.

“No one will be harmed,” she said quietly. “Not if I can help it.”

#verse: lost and found #thegentle01 #thegentletm

Percy considered her words. Maybe his time in Telmar had made him optimistic...or sentimental; but he wanted to believe that there was a possibility that Father could be dealt with. That they could be saved from him without someone getting hurt.

"Do you promise?" He asked, resting his chin on his knees and gazing steadily at her. "Do you promise that no one will get hurt...if I tell you what happened?" He bit his lip. "That he won't...that he won't hurt my mother again?"

Percy wasn't even sure if he could tell Queen Susan what had happened. He hadn't talked about that day in years...tried not to even think about it until something triggered his memory. Could he relive it now?

He had to try, for Mama's sake...and Pip's, and Em's, and Seb's, and Will's, and all the other people trapped under his wrath. He could at least try, even if it made him worse again. He wished Leezy was here. He didn't even notice as he began to rub at his scar again.

It was a bitter sort of irony.

Only moments earlier, Susan’s chief concern had been untangling the mystery of Arlise—who she truly was, and where she fit within the Naerion machinations. She had learned only that the girl was not Naerion by blood, her origins still frustratingly elusive. But now, all of that had fallen away. Her thoughts had narrowed to the boy before her—his trembling hands, his fear, and the unsettling question of what, precisely, Lucan Hart had done to inspire it.

Her gaze softened.

Gently, she reached forward, careful not to startle him, and laid her hand over his wrist, guiding it away from where his fingers worried at the old mark beneath his sleeve. Only then did she take both of his hands in her own, warm and steady, offering stillness where his body found none.

“Percy,” she said quietly.

Her voice held no judgment, no sharpness—only concern. “What is it your father has done?” She paused, giving him space, allowing him the choice to continue or retreat. “It must be something grave indeed, for you to believe we would not suffer his presence here if we knew.”

As she looked at him, a strange, aching tenderness rose in her chest. She had the sudden urge to brush his curls back from his face, the way her mother once had when Susan herself was frightened and small. She resisted it—for now—but the instinct remained, steady and protective.