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The Child of White	By : Hnoss Category: A through F > Chronicles of Narnia Views: 4548 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the Chronicles of Narnia. I'm also not making any money here either. I'm just having fun.

Chapter List
- 1-The Child of White
- 2-Chapter One
- 1
- 2
The Child of White
Flora_Winters
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the Chronicles of Narnia. I’m also not making any money here either. I’m just having fun.
Summary: Winter is returning to Narnia. His icy fingers will creep, freezing all with frosty kisses. Will he be just as heartless as his mother? Language, MM, OC, Violence, WIP
Chapter One
When she embraces your heart turns to stone
She comes at night when you’re all alone
And when she whispers
Your blood shall run cold
You’d better hide before she finds you
--Within Temptation
Peter really liked the apple cider. It hadn’t been one of the choices Jacinth had given him. The blond really had surprised him. He really liked a guy with a sense of humor. The cucumber sandwiches were delicious as well.
“This might sound weird, so just tell me if it makes you uncomfortable,” Jacinth said, bringing him out of his thoughts. “But, would you mind taking off your shirt for the next sketch?”
“I don’t mind,” Peter answered him truthfully. That actually excited him. Jacinth was asking him to undress. “But, why do you want my shirt off?”
“I want to accurately draw what I want you to be wearing over your chest in the final sketch,” Jacinth told him, finishing his last slice of sandwich.
Oh, well that makes sense.
He took off his shirt and stood posed for the boy with the smoky quartz eyes to draw. He watched how the beautiful young man looked at him, drawing him. He had to fight really hard to control his little Peter (not little at all) when the boy would touch his naked flesh with soft hands, posing him at different angles.
Those mercury orbs pierced him. His gaze was so strong and yet his eyes were very warm.
“Done,” Jacinth said, putting down his pad, dropping his pencil on the bed. “Now I have what I need to paint it.”
“Aw,” Peter whined, slipping his cotton shirt back on. “I want to see it now.”
“You can,” Jacinth told him. “You can see it when it is hanging on the wall.”
Peter pouted. “Are all artists like this?”
Jacinth nodded. “We are.”
A knock came at the door and Professor Wells stuck his head in.
“Peter,” he said, smiling at him. “Your mother is on the phone downstairs.”
Thunder suddenly boomed overhead, making him jump. He hated thunder. It reminded him of bombs.
“The weather is getting rather poor and she has asked you stay the night here with us,” he said. “We have more than enough room, but she would like to speak with you.”
“Thank you, Sir,” he said, nodding his head, looking at the almost white haired boy. “I guess I’ll be seeing you work, huh?”
Jacinth grinned. “Perhaps…”
Peter followed Professor Wells to where the house phone was. His mom only wanted to tell him to be on his best behavior and that she loved him. He told her that he loved her and to tell the others that as well. His mom made a kissing sound and he hung up.
They didn’t have a house phone. She must still be at work.
The storm was like a gift from the heavens, literally. He was asked to be drawn by a beautiful boy, given a drawing by a talented boy, asked to get half naked by an intelligent boy, and now he was going to get to sleep in that same radiant boy’s home. Oh, it was fate. It had to be.
Thunder bellowed again, making him wince in some fear. He really hated it. He could still feel the heat from that bomb blast that had hit right outside his old house. He could still smell it. Oh, he hated storms.
“Do you not like storms, Peter?” Mr. Wells asked him.
“No, Sir,” he said, shaking his head. “The thunder reminds me of the…bombs.”
The old man’s eyes softened.
“You may stay with Jacinth if you like,” he said, smiling compassionately. “That boy fears nothing that I know of.”
Peter smiled. Was this his lucky day or what?
“Thank you so much for your kindness, Sir.”
The old man chuckled.
“Now wonder my grandson likes you. You’re just as polite as he is.”
Peter blushed. He knew his cheeks must look like a golden rose in bloom. Well, that was simply embarrassing.
He slowly made his way back to Jacinth’s room, so he didn’t get lost.
~*~
Jacinth filled the marble tub up with steamy water, scenting it with fragrant jasmine oil. His grandfather made all his bath oils for him. The man was a mad genius.
“There,” he said, turning to Peter who was standing behind him. “Soak for as long as the storm is distant.”
“Is it all right to use that much water?” Peter asked him, removing his shirt.
Jacinth blinked, thinking about it. Wasn’t it? He didn’t know. He always ran the tub full. He kept forgetting that he and Peter lived in different worlds.
“I just want you to enjoy your stay here.”
Peter grinned down at him. “Thanks.”
“Go on and get in,” he told him, getting to his feet. “I’ll go get you a washcloth and towel.”
Peter began to remove his belt. “All right, thanks.”
He walked out, closing the door halfway. He went to the linen closet and pulled out a big red towel for his new friend. Red seemed like his color. He walked back, knocked on the door, poking his head inside.
“How is it?”
Peter looked over at him. The water came up to his muscular pecks. Jacinth fought not to blush. There was a naked guy in his bathtub.
“I feel like a lobster and I like it.”
He put the towel down on the table beside the tub, watching Peter lift a long leg up out of the water. It was toned and surprisingly hairy. He had large feet and he wiggled his toes.
“Do you bathe like this every night?” Peter asked him.
He shook his head. “No.”
“My mom would drown me if I ran the tub at home even half this,” Peter said, splashing around playfully, showing him his obvious enjoyment.
The blond hid his frown. He really was spoiled. Well, he was just going to have to spoil Peter, too.
Thunder boomed and Peter hunched over in the water, looking all rigid and stiff.
“Are you all right?” Jacinth asked.
Peter chuckled rather nervously. “I don’t like thunder.”
“What?” He asked. “Why?”
“It reminds me of the bombing,” he said, looking up at him. “The blasts were like endless thunder. I can still feel the heat from the one that landed outside my house. It blew window glass all over Edmund and me.”
Jacinth walked over to him, being careful where he looked with his eyes. The tub did have bubbles, but he didn’t trust them. He knelt down on both knees, putting his hand on Peter’s wet shoulder. It was very broad.
“I’m sorry.”
Peter’s eyes gazed into his own. “What are you sorry for?”
“This,” he said, splashing him in the face.
Peter gawked and then smirked devilishly. “That was sneaky.”
Jacinth grinned. “You can sleep with me then.”
The darker headed boy looked away. “Thanks.”
“I don’t want you to feel afraid here,” he told him as the thunder echoed. He could feel the bigger teen tense up under his hand. He really was afraid of the thunder. Was he really expecting a bomb to fall from the sky?
“Do you want me to stay in here with you?” He asked him.
Peter turned back. “Would you?”
He nodded. It felt nice being able to comfort someone.
“I’m happy that you’re here being afraid of thunder, Peter.”
Peter cocked his head to the side, looking confused.
“Because that bomb might have caused me to never meet you,” he smiled.
Peter flicked some water at him, laughing. “Me, too.”
Jacinth wiped the water from his cheek with is long sleeve. “How many of those books have you read so far?”
Peter told him all about it.
~*~
Peter was curled up on his side with his eyes wide open. He knew it was only thunder, but what if it wasn’t? He had fought the White Witch and he was terrified of thunder. Oh, it was laughable. The White Witch’s eyes could have frightened a bomb into defying gravity, falling upwards instead. That was just how scary she was…had been.
The wind was howling outside the stained glass window and the rain was falling really hard. It was just like the other night. He had been awake all night while Edmund had snored right through it.
He gently rolled over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. The flashes of lightning only chased the dancing shadows away momentarily. Thunder boomed and he cringed, squeezing his eyes shut.
That was when he felt a slender hand take his and gently squeeze. The hand was very soft and smooth.
He turned his face to the side, seeing in the momentary flashes of lightning that Jacinth’s eyes were closed in deep slumber. He closed his eyes with a smile on his lips. Jacinth was such a great new friend. He gently squeezed the smaller teen’s hand back and tried to get some sleep.
~*~
The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. Jacinth’s friendship with Peter grew and grew over that time. He had become so very comfortable around the bigger teen. They were almost attached at the hip during school hours.
Peter had told him that he had finally hung the drawing of the unicorn in his room. He had told him that his mom and Lucy couldn’t get over how beautiful it was. Lucy had told him that it was most accurate. It made him feel all warm on the inside to have others appreciate his art besides his loving grandfather.
Susan was distant but civil and Edmund wouldn’t even look at him when he did speak. Peter had told him that Edmund was just Edmund. He didn’t really care. He had Peter.
He was taking his time with Peter’s drawing. He wanted it to be perfect because he was going to put it on canvas. It was going to be something beautiful.
“Jacinth,” Mr. Wilson said, dismissing class for recess. “Would you and Peter go to the old storage room on the third floor and bring me a box in the back marked with a big blue “B” on it?”
Jacinth nodded his head. “Yes.”
Peter put his bag down. “Sure.”
“Such good boys,” Mr. Wilson said, erasing the large blackboard. “It will be rather heavy so take your time. I don’t want you hurting yourselves or breaking something coming down the steps.”
Jacinth followed his best friend from the room. The two of them were suddenly racing each other down the long hall to where the door leading up to the third floor was.
The third floor was a very spooky place. He was sure it was haunted. He loved sneaking up when nobody was around.
“Creepy,” Peter said from behind him as they walked up the creaking steps. “I feel like I’m being watched.”
“Boo!” Jacinth chuckled.
“Ha!” Peter laughed. “You’re very funny.”
“I know,” Jacinth told him matter of fact.
He had smiled and laughed more these past few months than he had all year.
“Do they really have classes up here?” Peter asked him.
Jacinth nodded. “This is where the school choir practices on odd days,” he said, pointing to a door. “The room is huge.”
“Are we there yet?” Peter whispered. It was mocking. “My feet hurt.”
He rolled his eyes at him. “Yes, that’s why we’ve stopped walking.”
Peter snorted. “No we haven’t.”
Jacinth shoved him and took off running like the wind down the hallway. Peter’s heavy footsteps were echoing behind him. The taller teen could very easily keep up with him. He really liked that.
“Your feet mustn’t be hurting you too much,” he said, opening the door the old storage room when he came upon it. “Because you can run like a bear.”
Peter smiled and then frowned when Jacinth flipped the switch, flooding the cluttered room with a yellow light. “Well, this could take forever. Just look at this mess.”
Jacinth nodded. There were boxes, papers, desks, tables, and boards all over the place. Boxes were stacked up on the desks and tables. There were shelves of old and dusty books as well. It was all one huge mess.
“Well,” he said, rolling up his sleeves. “Where do you want to start looking first?”
“We don’t have to,” Peter said, pointing to a top shelf. “It’s on top.”
Jacinth looked up. There it was. Well, wasn’t that convenient.
“Mr. Wilson said it would be heavy,” he told him, looking around. “Do you see a ladder?”
Peter shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
“I’m smaller than you,” Jacinth said, walking back towards the tall shelf. “Maybe I can climb up and see just how heavy it is.”
“And I’ll spot you,” Peter said, stepping up behind him. “That way you won’t fall.”
“Thanks,” Jacinth said and carefully began to climb up. It wasn’t that difficult. He reached up, touched the box, trying to push it sideways a little just to see how heavy it was. He couldn’t make it so much as budge. It was heavy. He looked down at Peter who had his large hands on the backs of his thighs, keeping him steady. “I don’t think we can get this down without a ladder.”
Peter nodded and that was when Jacinth fell over backwards into him. The shelf under his feet had snapped, dropping him. They both fell to the ground with yelps and he smacked the back of his head against Peter’s shoulder blade. It made his eyes roll around in his head.
“Ouch,” Peter grunted from under him. “My back…”
Jacinth was too stunned to move. He had fallen and he couldn’t get up. His vision was blurry. That had been most ungraceful.
“Are you all right?” Peter asked him in concern.
Jacinth moaned and carefully rolled off of him. “You broke my fall, and my head.”
Peter looked like he was about to say something, but he suddenly threw his larger frame over him. A loud crash filled his ears. Jacinth’s heart literally skipped several beats as he gazed up into those fiery eyes. Peter had protected him from a falling shelf. Books were falling off Peter’s back.
The two of them were so close and Peter’s hard body was so warm. It felt as though time had frozen at a standstill as he gazed up into those charming eyes.
His molten mercury orbs widened when soft lips suddenly pressed gently down against his rose red petals. It was suddenly gone so fast he had thought he had imagined it.
Peter’s handsome face was filled with a cold horror. “I’m so sorry,” he said, quickly trying to get off him, but his foot slipped on a book, making him fall back down on him.
“Why?” Jacinth wheezed, catching his wrist, holding on.
Peter just looked at him in shock. “What?”
“Why are you sorry?” He asked him. “I’ve been waiting for you to kiss me.”
Peter blinked. There was sweat rolling down his face. He must have been really frightened. “You…You have.”
Jacinth nodded, wrapping his arms around his neck. “You protected me.”
“I’m your friend,” he whispered.
“You’re also my knight,” Jacinth said, arching his back off the floor a little. “I’m painting you as such.”
“You wanted me to kiss you?” Peter asked him again. There was a look of happy wonder on his face.
“Yes,” Jacinth told him, smiling with perfect teeth. “You’re the first person who has ever wanted to be my friend. You see me.”
Peter grinned. He looked rather goofy in what light there was. “Can I kiss you again?”
“When would you like?” Jacinth asked.
“Now,” Peter told him, lowering his face so that the tips of their noses were touching. “I wish to kiss you right now.”
Jacinth playfully pulled on his ears, making him look like an elf. “Okay.”
Peter tilted his face to the side, possessing his lips. Jacinth felt as though the muscular teen was drinking from him. That was what it felt like and he wanted more, much more.
Warmth was spreading out through his body like fire and he could feel Peter pressing his hips down on him. The boy was hard. He was hard, too.
He moaned, wrapping his arms around Peter, pulling him down against him harder. He didn’t want to ever let go of him. He wanted him. He wanted him to be his and only his.
“Oh, God,” Peter gasped, pulling away like a trembling magnet. He was panting for breath. The back of his shirt was wet.
Jacinth couldn’t form words in that moment. There were colorful fireworks exploding before his dazed eyes. They were all so vibrant and pretty.
Peter stood up and there was a large bulge in the front of his pants. It was bulging out and upwards with a fury. Jacinth wanted to rub it. He wanted to make Peter purr like a large cat.
“Well,” Peter asked, reaching down with a large hand for him to take hold of. “What does this make us now?”
Jacinth grasped the hand, pulling with such swiftness until he was in the taller teen’s arms.
“…Soul mates…”
~*~
“Peter?” Susan asked, catching his wondering attention. Where in the world was that train? It wasn’t like it to be this late. He turned to look at his sister.
“Yes?”
“You have a very strange look on your face,” she said, looking closer at him.
“I do?”
“Yes,” Edmund said, rolling his eyes. “It has been the same look for weeks now.”
Lucy nodded. “You get that look when you’re looking at the unicorn on your wall, too.”
Susan put a hand to his shoulder. “Do you miss Narnia?”
Peter breathed a small sigh of relief. So that’s what they were all thinking.
“Don’t you all as well?” He asked.
The truth was that he did miss it. He missed Narnia terribly. It was hard living in this world when your heart belonged in another. But, he had Jacinth now.
Lucy softly nodded her head. “I miss it all the time.”
Edmund looked down at his feet. “…Sometimes.”
Peter turned to Susan. She had seemed so very distant lately.
She shook her head. “I’m just now getting used to this one again.”
Peter cocked a brow. He didn’t believe her at all.
“Fine,” she said, turning her face away. “I do miss all our friends.”
“I miss Aslan,” Lucy said, walking up, taking hold of Peter’s hand. “And I miss Mr. Tumnis.”
Edmund smiled. “I miss living in a castle and practicing with my sword.”
“You would,” Peter laughed.
Suddenly there was a very strange sound.
“Peter?” Susan said, grabbing his arm. “What is that sound?”
“Is it a horn?” Edmund asked, looking around. “Who would have a horn down here?”
Lucy looked around. “It sounds really familiar.”
All four stood there and a harsh wind began to blow all around them. Lucy and Susan’s long hair blew all around their faces.
Peter looked to see that bricks were being blown from the walls, revealing hard stone underneath. It was like the world all around him was freezing to a standstill.
What was happening?
The sound of the ocean filled his ears. He spun around with his siblings and there it was. The four of them were standing, looking out from the mouth of a massive seaside cavern.
The ocean was a bright blue. The air smelled of salt and foamy surf. It was so warm.
“Narnia?”
Peter looked at Lucy.
~*~
Jacinth opened his closet door and a cool breeze caused his mane to flutter around his unlined face. His moonstone colored eyes went wide with shock and he slammed the wooden door shut with a bang. He had to be dreaming, but his bed was empty. There couldn’t be a ruin in the center of a lake in his closet.
“Jacinth,” an icy voice whispered like creeping frost from under the crack at the bottom of the door. He could actually hear the water.
He looked back once more, seeing that his bed was indeed empty. He wasn’t in the bed.
“Come to me,” the voice called to him like falling snowflakes. “Come and set me free.”
He turned back to the door, slowly opening it back up. The wind filled his room as he gazed upon the diamond looking ruin. It was hauntingly beautiful. It looked to be floating upon the clear blue waters.
He slowly stepped into his closet, finding himself standing at the very edge of the lake. The door slammed shut behind him, making him turn. It was gone.
He didn’t panic, because he wasn’t afraid. There was something here and it belonged to him. All was suddenly very still and quiet. It was as if the whole place was afraid to breathe. He even noticed that the water made no sound at all.
He took in a small breath of fresh mountain air, breathing out a silvery mist. He felt a pulse push out from his body, sending waves crashing across the lake. A second pulse radiated from him, bringing the waves to freeze solid at a complete standstill in time.
“Come to me,” the voice echoed from the haunting ruin which was now the jewel of the frozen lake. “Come to me, Child of White.”
He felt an invisible force pulling on him and he stepped out onto the lake, walking across the frozen waves. There was something inside of him and the closer he got the ruin, the more it felt like it was going to burst free from him. It wasn’t painful. He wanted to free this sensation and ride it.
This was some dream. That was for sure. It was all so vivid and real.
“Ah, it is you,” a spooky voice echoed as he entered the ancient ruin of what was probably once a grand palace. It was a female’s voice. It was high and almost bird-like. “You have come upon us once more, Cold Majesty.”
“Who are you?” He asked, looking around the dead place. “Where am I? What’s happening to me?”
“Winter has fallen once more,” a deep male voice rumbled. It reminded him of falling rocks. “We shall now teach the Talmerines their place.”
“Show yourselves!” Jacinth demanded, feeling his body tremble with sudden rage. He was confused and agitated for some reason.
“We are your loyal and most humble servants, Glittering One,” the female chirped from somewhere above him.
A pulse flashed out from him with an icy light, causing him to fall to his knees. Crystal shards of ice were growing all around him.
“She calls for him,” the male voice echoed.
“Yes,” the female cackled with wicked glee. “We shall raise you up, Shining One. You shall smite all who dare to challenge your icy glory.”
“What am I?” He yelled, stumbling to his feet as the ice continued to spread out from him. The tall shards of ice suddenly bowed to him. “Who am I?”
It was a dream. This is a dream. Ice does not bow.
He had been abandoned at birth. His adoptive parents had discovered him while on a trip to sea. They had taken him in, claiming he was their little souvenir.
“Ice Heart,” the female said, stepping from the darkened shadows in a flowing black cloak. It was like darkness and the hood hid her face from him. “Son of the White Witch, the true Queen of all Narnia.”
“What?” He asked, looking at her hidden figure. A cold wind surrounded him, breathing as if from his confusion. “Where is she?”
“Slain!” The male voice growled angrily. “Banished from the world by fools who have let Narnia fall into the greedy hands of barbarous invaders!”
Jacinth suddenly felt himself being consumed with grief. The mother he had never known was gone? This was a dream. This wasn’t real.
“Why did she abandon me?” He roared.
“To protect you,” the cloaked female said. She was hunched over and he could see that her hands were birdlike talons.
“To keep you safe from fools,” the hidden male echoed.
“Show me your face,” he said, pointing at the cloaked woman.
“Be not frightened of my appearance, Majesty,” she said, revealing her harpy-like face. She had a sharp beak and big red eyes. She was bowing very low to him. “I am your slave, Highness.”
His eyes widened. “I’ve…I’ve drawn you…”
The harpy smiled, well, if that was what one would call a smile.
“We can bring your mother back,” she said. “It is within my power to do so now that you have entered our world once more.”
“You can?” Jacinth asked.
“Even now your presence is affecting Narnia,” the male said. “The chill of winter’s deathly breath is in the air.”
“We must travel to a great place of primordial power,” the harpy chirped. “You must stand upon the broken altar to the Deep Magic and spill your blood upon it.”
Jacinth blinked. “Excuse me?”
The harpy laughed. “Cutting your palm is all that will be required of you, Highness.”
She bowed low once more.
“And that will return my mother to me?” He asked.
“Yes,” the male said. “And all the power of winter will be unleashed upon the fools who challenge the rules of Narnia.”
“Show yourself!” Jacinth commanded.
“I am here,” the male said.
Jacinth turned, seeing what appeared to be a seven foot wolf. He had the body of a muscular man, but the head of a snarling wolf. His hands were large and his fingers were deadly claws. His only article of clothing was a black pair of what appeared to be leather pants.
“I’ve drawn you as well,” he said, walking closer.
The wolf bowed his head.
His servants were a werewolf and a harpy.
“This is yours,” the harpy said, walking forward, handing him what appeared to be a crystal spear. “This wand has the power to turn your enemies into stone.”
He took it from her, looking it over. He gave it a good twirl. It fit his hand perfectly.
“Who killed my mother?”
“Aslan,” the wolf said. “The great lion.”
Jacinth’s molten moonstone eyes narrowed into slits of cold steel. His beauty was sharp and terrible in that moment.
“Come,” the werewolf said. “You must change into attire fitting for your supreme station, Ice Dawn.”
He followed the wolf. “I am winter?”
“Yes,” the harpy said from behind him.
Jacinth felt himself grin. If he was winter, then that meant he could now do wintry things in this dream. He raised his wand high.
“I command this ruin to become the palace my mother once ruled all of Narnia from!”
His voice echoed with authority and ice began to quickly grow. His voice was the forming of ice.
The wolf and harpy looked on in stunned awe. The palace was restoring itself to its former horror. It was beginning to look like the passages of time had never even ravaged it.
“Oh, Wondrous One!” The harpy beamed. “Your power is truly amazing.”
Jacinth was in awe as well. This was real. He had done this. Everything was shimmering and shining with coldness.
“This way Majesty,” the werewolf said, bowing every other step.
Jacinth watched how those powerful muscles moved. The corded neck, broad chest and powerful arms were hairless and the skin the color of polished brass. He couldn’t see the muscular legs because of the leather pants. He bet they were hairy because the werewolf’s feet were large and the tops of his toes were covered in dark hair.
“Would you please just call me Jacinth,” he said. “These titles make me nervous.”
The harpy and wolf looked at each other.
“As you wish, Jacinth,” they both said at the same time.
He nodded. “And your names are…”
“Harper.”
“Wolfram.”
“Of course,” he deadpanned, following them.
Well, if this was a dream, it was one hell of a doozey.
His mind suddenly drifted to Peter and he touched his lips, smiling. He wondered if he was asleep and dreaming now, too.
The palace still formed and changed as he stepped.

To Be Continued
- 1
- 2
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The Child of White