Iria found Peter asleep on her couch. She guessed the tandi was too much of a challenge for him. She sat on the arm of the couch, careful not to wake him.
"He really is still just a child," she said to herself as she brushed a brown lock from his sleeping face. He looked so peaceful asleep, so different from the feisty boy that he was when he was awake. Iria chuckled.
Just then, Peter's face contorted. He groaned and started shaking his head. He was having a nightmare.
"Peter," she called out to him as she tried to shake him from his sleep. "Peter!"
But he wouldn't wake up. She sat on the couch and pulled the child into her arms.
"It's alright," she cooed as she rocked him back and forth. "I've got you. You're safe now."
For a while, she held him while speaking soothing words to him. And after a time, he thankfully calmed down.
*****
Peter found himself back in his world, in the little town of Pal where he had lived most of his life. He walked the filthy streets he knew like the back of his hand. Beggars and trash filled the streets. The disgusted spits from occasional passing noble carriages only adding to the filth of the place. The familiar despair started creeping up into his heart. It had disappeared for a time for some reason.
He stopped when he turned the corner. There were four men standing there like they owned the place. Peter scoffed. They were no better off than the rest of the people of this town. But they thought they were just because they could beat people up. Well, that wasn't enough to scare him. When you were hungry, pain became less of a deterrent to you.
"I don't like how you look at me, boy," one of them declared as he set his eyes on Peter.
"That's hardly my problem," he replied with a sneer, despite his feet taking a couple of steps back on their own.
"You need to be taught a lesson."
The thug's companions went after Peter. And Peter broke into a run.
"Come on, boy," they taunted him. "We just want to talk."
"As if!" Peter ran faster. But his small body didn't have the stamina his pursuers had.
It didn't take long for them to catch him. They weren't merciful in their beating. But Peter would rather die than beg them for mercy. He fought until he couldn't. And they beat him until he was almost unconscious.
It hurt, he thought as he lay in the filthy street. But it was every man for himself here. No one was going to help him. Just as he was losing consciousness, he heard singing. It was pleasant and full of affection, like a mother singing to her child. One of the nobles, he surmised. Lucky kid to have someone sing like that to you, he thought. But why was there a noble anywhere near a place like this?
He turned his head to look but found that the singing came from a woman right beside him. Why was there a well-dressed woman beside him? He realised that not only was she here in the filthy streets of Pal, but that he was in her arms. She stroked his head kindly and continued singing her lullaby. He didn't remember anything about his birth mother. But this was how mothers were supposed to be, right? "Mother?" He asked.
The woman smiled. "Not quite," she replied kindly. "But I can be that if you need me to, and chase the nightmares away."
"Nightmares?" He blinked.
"You were having one," she replied. "But you can rest assured you're safe here."
"Gatekeeper!" Peter exclaimed as he finally recognized the woman speaking to him. He quickly pulled away and found himself falling off the sofa and on the floor. He looked around and found himself back in her room in the mage's castle.
"I told you to just call me Iria."
"What were you doing?"
"You were having a nightmare. You wouldn't wake up so I thought to soothe you. Guess my singing was good enough to calm you," she said cheerfully.
"I'm not a child anymore," he replied with a pout. But truth be told, her singing did help.
She got up and ruffled his hair. "Yes, you are. And it's okay. It'll be our little secret." She winked at him as she left the couch to sit on the bed.
"A-are we leaving today?" Peter asked, gingerly making his way back to the couch.
"Not yet. The mage doesn't want to let us go just yet."
"Is he… holding us prisoner?"
Iria laughed good-naturedly. "Nothing of the sort. There's just something he needs to do before he can let us go. Are you in a hurry to meet the council?"
Peter glared at her. "I would delay it as much as I could."
Iria laughed again. Her laugh sounded so dainty. "Then you wouldn't mind staying a few more days, would you?"
"Not really. Also, I… I'd like to see more magic from him," he admitted, looking away to try to hide his embarrassment for saying such a thing. Only a child would admit wanting to see something that he found delightful.
But thankfully, the gatekeeper didn't laugh. "Then I'll do my best to make that happen."
*****
Peter had never been offered so much food in his life. And it wasn't even leftover or discarded food. This was food prepared for him. By a mage, no less!
Marquelle placed a stack of what seemed like flat cakes on the table in front of Peter. His other hand still held the pan he had cooked them in. "I wasn't expecting company," the mage explained, his very hospitable actions belying his cold voice. "So, I hope you don't mind this simple fare."
"Simple fare?" Peter stared at the round table before him. It was set for three people. And each set had something that looked like cooked grain, two eggs, strips of meat, that stack of flat cakes, and a hot drink that looked scarily black but smelled surprisingly wonderful. Iria had asked him to go to the breakfast room ahead while she freshened up. And this was what awaited him here. "Can I really eat this?"
"You keep asking that." Marquelle put the pans in the sink and put away his apron. "What do you mean by that question exactly?"
"I mean…" Peter couldn't help his voice from going softer. "A-am I allowed to eat this?"
The mage shrugged, his expression a little confused. "It's just food."
"Well, it's not just food to me! I'm normally happy to find a slice of bread in a day. And now you're saying today I get to eat all of these. It's… Why?"
"Because you're in my house. And as my guest, it is my responsibility to feed you."
"So, you're just doing it because it's expected of you. You wouldn't do this otherwise, right?"
The mage stared at him. "It's just food," he repeated.
Just then, they heard Iria reply. "The best response I would suggest would be to thank him for the food and start eating."
Peter turned to look in her direction and was surprised to find, not the gatekeeper in her somber black suit, but a young woman with long golden curls in a dress fit for a princess. No, she was a princess. She was very comfortable carrying herself as such. He turned to Marquelle to confirm if he had invited someone else to his castle, but he found the mage staring, more stunned than he was. The mage really isn't immune to a pretty face, Peter thought.
"What is it?" Iria asked with that princess smile of hers when Peter turned to look at her again.
"Why are you dressed like that?" Peter asked. "You look like a princess or something."
"That's because I am."
"You are…"
"A princess. Gatekeepers are born into the world, too, you know. In my case, I was born the daughter of a king and a queen."
Peter just stared. He wasn't sure if she was joking or serious.
"What, did you think gatekeepers just magically came to being?"
"More or less," he admitted as he finally pulled back his chair to take a seat at the table.
The mage cleared his throat as he, too, took his seat. "You look lovely," he said without looking directly at her.
"Thank you." She beamed as she took her seat. "And thank you for the clothes you provided. They fit very well."
"You're welcome," Marquelle replied. "They're magically designed to."
Peter belatedly looked at what he was wearing. He had been reluctant to wear such a fine shirt and breeches but thought it more respectful than wearing his dirty clothes and soiling the mage's simple yet immaculately clean furniture with them. "Th-thank you," he mumbled awkwardly. "For the clothes. And the food."
He had never felt so embarrassed saying it to a nobleman in his life. All he had ever felt for them was disdain. At least he thought the mage was a nobleman. And if he wanted Marquelle to show him more magic then he should at least show some gratitude.
He looked up when the mage didn't answer for a while, and saw Marquelle studying him. "Wh-what?" He asked defensively.
"You're interested in magic," the mage declared.
"S-so what if I am?" Patakah! He thought. Magic was forbidden for someone like him. The gatekeeper was chasing him because of that!
"Would you like me to teach you over the next few days?"
Peter wasn't expecting that. Did he hear it correctly? He stared at the mage. But the mage just stared back. He looked at Iria. And she just smiled her sparkly smile.
"You could try, 'Yes, please. Thank you,'" she told him.
"Y-yes, please," Peter stammered. He looked at the mage. "Yes, please," he repeated more firmly. "Thank you."
The mage smiled. It was the first time he had seen Marquelle smile. "It's settled then."