#peter pevensie fanfic

[awillowdryad]

To Love Is To Be Vulnerable ~ Peter Pevensie

Okay, so I've never let anyone ever read any of my fanfics before but I've decided once and for all to take the plunge and share some of my scribbles! Hope you like it!

Just a disclaimer: This work (and the title) is inspired by a quote by CS Lewis. I just want to be clear that this quote isn't mine. I was only inspired by it. I also reference a Tennyson quote - this isn't mine either! I also drew some inspiration from That's When by Taylor Swift. :)

Summary: The Reader is engaged to Peter during the Golden Age but is facing doubts and fears over their relationship.

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death

~

“Are you saying that you don’t want to marry me anymore?”

Y/N exhaled, grappling for the right words as she faced her husband-to-be. “No, I…I just…I need some time…some space…to think about all of this.” 

“Oh…okay.” He toed the floor with his boot, before lifting his head to peer at her beneath his golden fringe with such solemnity that she nearly caved right there and then. “I-I get it. I’ll still be here.”

He gave her a weak smile. Y/N thanked him and turned away quickly before he could see the tears beginning to spill down her cheeks. 

She had almost reached her chambers when she rounded a corner and nearly flew headlong into Edmund.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed as they both tried to apologise at once. Then he caught sight of her face. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she gulped, “I just-” 

Unable to summon any excuse, she bolted for her door, leaving Edmund entirely nonplussed as it banged shut. 

She sank down against it, tears coming on quite freely now that she was safely alone, heart in turmoil. She didn’t even want to think about what Peter must be feeling - she couldn’t think of him - mustn’t. She knew my words had been hard to hear and even harder to say.

Y/N looked down at the ring on her left hand and twisted it around her finger, touching the large jewel set in its middle. Peter had given it to her a few months ago- on a balmy summer evening so romantic she’d swooned every time she thought about it after- before he had gone to war. Before she had experienced the agony of waiting and wondering, nights when she’d cried herself to sleep, the tears on her pillow her only comfort, unsure if she would ever see his face again, not knowing if he was dead or alive. He had promised the battle would be over in one. After three he still hadn't returned. Everyone in Cair Paravel had begun to doubt his ever returning, until he had reappeared, dishevelled and sporting a few fresh scars, but victorious.

She had managed to join in the celebrations, plastering a smile on her face that didn’t match her feelings. Oh, she was happy to have Peter back, that was certain. It had been the greatest relief of her life when he turned up at her chambers the day he returned. But now that heavenly love that had consumed her was embedded with fear.

Laying her head back against the hardness of the door, she opened her mouth and let out a sob. She loved Peter more than words. But how could she condemn herself to a life of torment, of that hideous, unbearable feeling, every time he went to war? It was unavoidable as king, especially High King. And he was a good king too; he put himself on the frontline of every conflict, every problem. But there was not a thing she could do to protect him. She would simply have to sit back and let him go every time battle called.

Peter had soon realised that something was not quite right with her after he returned. And that was when she’d had to tell him - look into his beautiful blue eyes and tell him what she was feeling. Their wedding day had been set for a date now less than three months away, but Y/N was beginning to doubt if she could face a love filled with such risk. Their marriage - once so joyful and hopeful a thought - was now tainted by these claws of fear. 

Oh, she just couldn’t face loving him only to lose him!

~

Days passed. Every morning Y/N woke, Peter’s face was conjured up in her mind. He was always laughing in the image - his face splitting to release his glorious laugh - but privately she shed many tears as she went about slowly getting ready for breakfast.

She would catch him watching her over meals, his eyes gazing upon her with an unspoken ache before she would quickly look away. They exchanged pleasantries under perfect politeness, but there was a gaping chasm between them. Yet under the guise of it all was the fact that Peter had respected Y/N’s wishes and given her the space she’d asked for, which only made her love him more. 

One morning she was sitting in the upstairs library. She was surrounded by books, but there was not a thought of reading in her mind. She simply sat, seeing but not really seeing, her mind paralysed over a golden haired king.

The door gave a familiar creak, ripping her from her inner turmoil. She looked up. It was only Edmund.

He came in silently and sat down across from her, peering at the title of the book on the table. Y/N idly returned to her misery.

“So, how long have you been sitting here pining over him?”

She started. “Pardon?”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a wry smile. “Oh come on, Y/N. We all know that you and Peter are on a slight…hiatus.”

She shook her head. “It’s not what you think. It’s just…” She studied him, wondering how much to tell. Something about Edmund always made her longing to tell him her problems just so she could get his verdict. “I’m scared that…if I marry him…one of these days he’s going to go to battle and never come back.”

She looked away, blinking hard, having never expressed it in so many words.

He was quiet for a moment. “You’re afraid of getting your heart broken?” He didn’t sound accusing, only sympathetic. 

“Well…yes. Yes, I suppose that’s it.”

Edmund smoothed his hand over the arm of his chair, forehead sporting his thoughtful expression. “You know, any kind of love holds an element of risk.” He went on. “Love requires a certain level of vulnerability.” 

“What-what do you mean?”

“Well, you can love no one and nothing, put your heart in a box and protect it from ever being broken. Or, you can be vulnerable, love without restraint and chance the danger of getting hurt. But it’s up to you to take that risk, or risk being stale forever.”

Y/N stared at him. “But…but isn’t it dreadful to take the risk -of loving someone- and then lose them?”

Edmund smiled. “But isn’t it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”

She was silent, her mind whirling. He had totally got her there. She stood and walked to the window, overlooking the castle gates. Peter was just outside. She watched him interacting with a young centaur, her heart thumping. 

And suddenly, the storm in her mind stilled. The ache ceased and the gnawing in her chest faded so at last she could feel her own heartbeat, gentle and rhythmic.

“Oh, thank you Ed!” she cried. He only smiled to himself as she bolted from the room.

She flew along the castle hallways, down the marble staircase, and out the main door, nearly colliding with a servant carrying a basket of oranges. “Oh! Sorry!” she exclaimed, helping her to right the wobbling mound of fruit, before rushing to the front gate. Peter was still there, just coming in. His head snapped up when he saw her.

Y/N ran to him, skirts flying, and threw herself into his arms.

“Oh Peter! I’m sorry! I-” she halted, suddenly realising how hard it was to talk.

He laughed, that glorious sound filling the air for real this time. “Hey! Catch your breath for a moment.”

Gulping, she looked up at him. “I love you.” It came out breathlessly. “I can never stop loving you.” 

His face lit up as he grinned. “I love you too.”

She pushed herself against him, feeling his heart beat a steady, strong rhythm deep in his chest. “It was dreadful when you were away, I can’t pretend it wasn’t.”

He hung his head. “I know. I put you through alot.” 

“I can’t bear the thought of losing you, Peter.” She told him, “I couldn’t stand the idea of you going to battle again. But I don’t care now. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. It’s a small price for getting to love you.” 

He stared at her as though he was mesmerised. “Are you sure? I know it’s a big ask for you to be my wife.”

She nodded, eyes gleaming as she gazed at him. “I don’t like my life without you in it. I will love you with all my heart until my dying breath.”

He wrapped his arms around her then, hugging her so hard he lifted her off her feet, his face mushed into the crook of her neck. It was quiet, barely audible, but she heard his muffled whisper. “I love you so much. Thank you for letting me back into your heart.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes, unwilling to break any more contact than was necessary. “You never left it,” she whispered before she kissed him. “You have my heart always.” 

She knew it was true.

To love is to be vulnerable.

~

Well, there we go! Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think!

#peter pevensie fanfic #peter pevensie x reader #narnia #narnia fanfiction #chronicles of narnia #cs lewis

[mykinkyyandere]

The Hopeless Door

AO3

Pairings: Yandere/Dark! Peter Pevensie X f!Reader

Summary: Peter is being hard on you for your own good. Or is it for his own good?

Warnings: Yandere, dark, kidnapped reader, forced relationship/marriage, manipulation, non-con implies, non-con touching, controlling, yelling, mild brute force, emotional abuse, mature characters, sorry if i missed sth

You squirmed under Peter's grip. Exploring Narnia would have been a wonderful experience. Making new extraordinary friends in this beautiful world and maybe living in there forever. Thanks to your new good friends, you would find a way to survive, after all, there were greater difficulties in your own world. Going to school, having a job, bills and more difficult tasks that the future imposes on you. It would be easier to make a good life for yourself in Narnia. But not like this, not with a young king who was extremelly obsessed with you. The king of Narnia, no, High King of Narnia? Oh, how could you have guessed? How could you have known that he would trick you into kidnapping and forcibly marrying you? He wasn't a cruel person, but his desire to have you was creepy. He manipulated you all the time. He made you believe he was the only person who could protect you. He told you if you don't marry him, marry the king, your life will be very difficult, you will never survive in Narnia. Yes, even if you had very good friends. Silly girl, you couldn't trust them. Even that showed him how naive you were. Then he convinced you when you wanted to go back to your world. As if he would let you go otherwise.

"I used to live there myself once. It was a very frustrating and difficult world, even for me. Poor people who constantly despise you, life constantly wants more from you, losing your home, losing your loved ones... What are you going to do when you get back there? Don't you see how wonderful I can make your life here? I will offer you a rich life, you will always be happy. The things you worry about in the world will never come to your mind again, so much so that you will even forget their existence. Here's an opportunity for you. Escape from that world and live here with me. All you have to do is be mine. I love you."

He liked everyone kneel on his feet, and he wanted you to get down on your knees. To look at him from the floor with your big, sweet eyes... These were new feelings for him. He didn't have time for girls, already had two girls to look after. But you weren't his sibling, you gave him new experiences, new sense of protecting. He didn't even know he could feel that way and he wanted more.

"It hurts!" He grasped your arm so tightly that he wasn't even aware of it. He was angry, everyone you walked past bowed their heads in fear. "I can't believe you were trying to run away from me!" Nevertheless he loosened his grip. He didn't want to hurt you. He was sure that one day you would look for a way back, but still he couldn't help feeling betrayed. Didn't he give you everything you wanted? Hasn't he been very nice to you? Never once did he let someone hurt you.

"I wasn't! I was just..." The guards opened the big doors and waited for Peter, who was pulling you with big steps, to enter your shared bedroom. He kind of pushed you into your shared bed. He used to give you time to get used to marriage and let you sleep in a separate bed, but then he wanted you next to him. He wanted your warmth. He made it clear that he was now your husband and you had to get used to sleeping with him. He promised he wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want to.

"You just what?" He couldn't believe he just forced you to stay in bed, holding your arm and pushing you. He didn't want to hurt you, he didn't want to use brute force on you, and he never thought of doing it, but he liked the dominance he had over you. It reminded him that he has you. You were his. No matter how much he respected your boundaries and wouldn't touch you unless you wanted him to, you were his. He would have you every day and every night if he wanted to. You couldn't fight him, you didn't have the strength to stop him. It would have been so easy to take off your clothes, pin you to the bed and spread your legs... You were so defenseless against him, completely at his mercy. Sometimes he forgot this fact because of his love for you, but every time you caused trouble, you reminded him. He didn't know if you were overconfident in your strength or if you were underestimating him, but evidences showed both. He wanted you to come to him of your own free will and see that he wasn't a bad person. He didn't want you to fear or hate him, he wanted you to love him. To have you completely, that was his goal. More important than having your body was having your heart, but he was running out of patience.

"I just wanted to see if the door was still there." Your voice trembled, the tears started to fall. He hated seeing you like this. He always hated seeing you cry. From the first moment he talked to you, he didn't or couldn't hide how protective and "listen to me" type of person he was. He was very caring and loving, but when he said no, it was a no. He knew the best of everything and expected you to accept his leadership. There were times when he told you about his family. You felt bad that the responsibility of being a father was placed on his shoulders at a young age. He was taking on a lot of responsibility, but that didn't justify him forcing you to live under his wings.

"Then what? You open it, and there's no Narnia anymore, there's no us anymore!" He shouted and ran his fingers through his hair. He was so afraid of losing you that he thought it was necessary to show his anger. That's why he kept talking until you sobbed.

"Stop!" You tried to get up but he was faster. He got on top of you and held your chin, pinning your wrists above your head. "Where do you think you're going?"

You tried to push him off, but you couldn't. He was so strong or you were so weak, or just both. All you could do was cry trapped under his body. "The door is gone and you already knew that! Then why are you making me suffer so much? Why did you want to make everything a living hell for me when you knew I couldn't leave, that I was trapped here forever?" You controlled your sobs as much as possible and screamed. "You destroyed the door so I couldn't leave!"

"I thought you just went to check if the door was still there. Why are you so upset about me destroying the door? Is it because I've ruined your secret escape plans for good?" Peter was aggressive, he didn't plan this. When you cried, he wanted to hold you in his arms and caress your head and comfort you. Now instead he was on top of you, touching you inappropriately and cornering you by talking mercilessly. He got caught up in the fact that he needed a little brute force to get the things he wanted to happen.

"You are mine. Do you understand? I own you, my love. I am your husband and I am your King. You are in my world and you are mine. I own these people and this crown. I have my siblings and they know I am in charge. Wherever I look, I see things that are mine. And you, when I look at you, I see my most precious treasure that I have. When I look at you, I see a warm bed, a promising heir, a bright future. I see a home. My home."

He turned your chin and kissed you on the neck. "I am truly sorry for making you cry. Sometimes love is hard. Whether you get angry, yell, punish, you do it for the sake of the one you love. Difficult, but necessary."

He kissed your neck one more time and let go of your chin. You were still sobbing. He let go of your wrists as well and held your cheeks. "I love you. I am so much in love with you that you could never imagine. I am so sorry, but everything I did and said was for your good."

He got up off you and gently took you in his arms. You didn't look at him or didn't resist. Oh, you were afraid of him, and that was something he never wanted. It would have taken a very long time to wait for you to come anyway. It made him sad to realise that he had no choice but to force you to be his.

He put you under the covers and kissed you on the forehead. "I know crying always makes you sleepy. Now get some rest, and then I'll take you for a little ride with my horse. You need some fresh air and I also know you like it when I show you around." He smiled and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

#yandere peter pevensie x reader #yandere peter pevensie #dark peter pevensie x reader #dark peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie #yandere narnia #dark narnia #king peter pevensie #high king peter #king peter the magnificent #yandere king #yandere king x reader #narnia x reader #peter pevensie fanfic #peter pevensie one-shot #peter pevensie imagine #narnia imagine #the hopeless door

[thepremedthatwrites]

On the House (pt. 3)

Summary: The Pevensies have decided to run a cafe together, a cafe that the reader has come to frequent every Saturday like clockwork. As time goes on, it becomes evident that a certain blond has started to catch feelings for the reader.

requested by @theonottsbxtch

part 1 | part 2

(Y/n) found her job boring. This was alarming because she had never felt this way before. In fact, she loved her job. The publishing industry was one of stiff competition and having a passion for the work was the bare minimum in order to be considered a competitive candidate. She loved being able to witness the process of a book being made, especially the beginning when the authors she worked with pulsated with excitement, knowing their life’s work was finally going to be revealed to the masses.

But she couldn’t focus on her work anymore. Instead, she went through the motions, unable to focus on anything except for the anticipation of the weekend. All her mind was set on was one thing. The Lamppost Cafe. Every Saturday all she could think about was going into the cafe at one o’clock and getting to see Peter again. Some days she even considered going earlier than her regular time but stopped herself, not wanting to see desperate in any way.

Ever since she learned his name, she kept repeating it to herself. She would say it to herself while making her morning coffee, or while she was showering. It was like a mantra for her. She even found herself waking up sometimes with the name still fresh on the tip of her tongue. As if she expected him to be laying on the other side of the bed, responding to her call. 

Saturday came at an agonizing pace but soon enough she was grabbing her bag and book before heading for the cafe. After slugging through the week, the walk energized her. She felt the wind blow through her hair as she went, her eyes wide with excitement as the cafe came into view. She didn’t hesitate to walk up to the register where Peter was waiting for her. She wasn’t sure if she imagined it, but it felt as though his smile brightened as she neared him. “The usual?” he asked, already ringing her up.

“How did you know?” (y/n) joked, flashing him a smile. There was a pause as their eyes caught each other. He broke first, looking down at the register to read out the total. (Y/n) blinked a few times, as if it would flush away the pink that had started to grow on her cheeks. She began digging through her bag to find her wallet. “Actually, you know what, it’s on the house.”

“Really?” (y/n) responded. Behind Peter, she could his siblings pausing what they were doing and stealing quick glances at them. “Is there a certain sale today?”

“Oh no, it’s just you always come here. Think of it as us showing you our thanks for your support.” He let out a chuckle before flashing a quick smile. He was now rocking his weight back and forth and his eyes were back on the register. 

“Oh, that’s so sweet of you guys!” she responded, a bright smile growing on her face. “Thank you so much!” Peter looked up at her and she could tell his face was a shade redder than it had been when she first entered the cafe. 

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. (Y/n) let out a small giggle, remembering the first time he had said the strange phrase when he had brought out her order. “I’ll bring over your order once it’s ready.” She nodded before making her way to her usual table. 

As Peter walked towards the back, Susan said in a low voice, “I hope you’re planning on covering the cost for your girlfriend.” He rolled his eyes.

“Yeah whatever. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Yet,” Lucy added, chuckling as she started to steep the tea. Peter only scoffed before stealing a glance at (y/n). He hoped his face felt much more warm than it actually looked. If she had noticed his blush, he wouldn’t be able to face her again. How unprofessional it would be for a customer to believe he was flirting with her! Of course, he was only offering free food and drink because she was a regular. It wasn’t anything with romantic undertones. At least that’s what he would say if his siblings questioned him. But deep down, he knew the truth. He knew that he spent a bit longer getting ready on Saturdays and that as the clock neared one o’clock he took his place at the register even though he hated dealing with the confusing machinery that somehow always malfunctioned when he used it. 

“Well, are you going to give your girlfriend her order?” Susan asked, already putting the cup and plate into his hands.

“Quit calling her that, will you?” 

“Oh, do you prefer future Mrs. Pevensie?” 

“Very funny.” Peter rolled his eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to do my job.” He walked away before his sister could add one last remark. As he neared (y/n)’s table, he could feel his face warming once again. “Here’s your order,” he said, placing the stuff down onto the table.

“Oh, thank you,” (y/n) replied, putting down her book. 

“Haven’t you already read that one?” Peter felt his face become even warmer as he said that, realizing he had given away the fact that he had been watching her for the past few weeks. She let out a small laugh and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. 

“I fear I don’t have many books, so I cycle through them constantly.”

“Well, there’s a bookstore right down the street. Their prices are pretty low and they have a pretty wide variety of books.”

“Oh that’s sound wonderful. I should definitely check them out some time.” There was a pause. The girl looked up at him, the smile she was wearing turning somewhat playful. “This is the part where you suggest taking me to the bookstore.” She wasn’t sure where the confidence had come from but she was glad she said it as a wide smile grew on Peter’s face.

“I’m off tomorrow, does that work?”

“Perfect. We’ll meet here?”

“Is one o’clock good for you?”

“It always is,” she replied, smiling into her cup of tea as she took a long sip, the honey warming her throat on the way down.

#peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie #narnia fanfiction #narnia #peter pevensie imagine #peter x reader #peter pevensie fanfic #the chronicles of narnia #peter pevensie preference #high king peter #peter pevensie one shot #high king peter the magnificent #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie

[im-a-wonderling]

You Can Too ~ Peter Pevensie

This was originally the epilogue for Bruises, but I realized it could stand on it’s own, so I edited it to make sure you can read it without reading Bruises!

Warnings: angst

Word count: 2.9k

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The ice coating the columns slowly melted, the droplets of water hitting the stone floor. The puddle of water spread towards the bodies of the wolf and the hag laying haphazardly to the side. They were dead, the men knew that for a fact, but the strange flickering shadows from the torches gave the impression that they were moving. 

The two brothers sat on the edge of the stone table. 

Edmund stared unblinkingly at the carving of Aslan, but Peter’s eyes were fixed on the witch’s scepter in the center of the rapidly melting ice.

The Just king broke the silence first. “Caspian should be back soon with Doctor Cornelius. He’ll tell us what to do with the scepter.”

Peter didn’t reply, and Edmund swiveled to look at him, taking note of his dull expression and faraway eyes.”

“You hesitated,” Edmund said. “When the witch asked for your blood, you didn’t say no or run her through. You just…stood there.”

There was no answer. 

Edmund shifted so he was facing his brother. “You were thinking of Y/N, weren’t you?” Peter buried his face in his hands, letting out ragged breaths. Edmund let out a heavy sigh, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I know you miss her.”

A bitter laugh sounded as Peter shrugged out of Edmund’s grasp, getting to his feet. “You don’t understand.” Edmund opened his mouth to say something. “You don’t get it,” Peter repeated flatly.

“What don’t I get?” Edmund asked softly. Peter returned his gaze to the scepter, and Edmund couldn’t help but notice the way his brother’s fingers twitched. “If you don’t talk about it,” Edmund began, making sure to keep his voice soft, “if you bottle it up...it’ll only grow worse.”

Peter pressed the pads of his fingers into his eyes, clearly fighting something, a feeling Edmund knew too well. But Edmund also knew what happened if pain was left to fester. 

“It’s just me, Pete.”

King to king, warrior to warrior, brother to brother. 

Peter put his back to Edmund, as if looking away from Edmund was the only way he could bring himself to speak. “She wanted to wait.”

Edmund didn’t understand, but he kept silent, recognizing that Peter could retract his vulnerability as quickly as he’d given it.

“When she came back to Cair Paravel, she told me she loved me, but we had to take it slow.” The high king’s words were starting to pour from him now. “I agreed, of course I did. She had her magic back, and we hadn’t even seen each other in a year, and I mean, waiting wasn’t going to change anything, so what could possibly go wrong when we had all the time in the–” Peter’s voice broke off, and his ragged intake of air made Edmund’s own chest hurt. 

Peter’s head was hung so low, Edmund could barely see it shake from side to side. When he spoke next, his words were strained, as if they were wrung from him like water from a rag. 

“I had a ring.”

Edmund shut his eyes. He hadn’t known that.

“I had it made before she even left Cair Paravel, and I couldn’t bear to get rid of it. Then she came back, and I was just waiting for her to tell me she was ready to be my-my wife.”

The stammer made Edmund open his eyes.

Peter was staring down at his hand, and Edmund would’ve bet money that he was imagining a ring on his ring finger. 

“I was gonna make her my queen, Ed.” Peter looked up at his brother. “I was going to marry her and then take her to the Lone Islands for our honeymoon. And...and she wanted–” Peter reached out a hand to brace it on the column. “She wanted kids.”

Edmund could practically see the images that flashed through Peter’s mind.

An aisle decorated with white flower petals, a royal fleet with the high king and his new queen on board, and a young girl with her father’s blonde hair running down a castle corridor. 

Images of a life never lived. 

“And then we went hunting for the white stag,” Edmund said. “We went back to England.”

“I thought of her every day,” Peter croaked, his voice so quiet that Edmund almost missed it. “I wondered what she was doing here. Maybe when I was doing the dishes in England, she was out on a picnic. When I was writing a letter…perhaps she was taking a nap. When I woke up in the morning, thinking of her, surely she was waking up thinking of me too.”

Edmund wanted to cut in, to assure his brother that Y/N would’ve thought of Peter every day, but he forced himself to be still. Peter didn’t need Edmund thoughts or feelings, he needed Edmund’s ears. 

“I kept praying that when I closed my eyes to sleep at night, we would meet each other in our dreams.” Peter finally faced Edmund again, his jaw set. It was clear from the torment building in Peter’s eyes that those prayers went unanswered. 

“And now we’re back!” Peter said, with a big, sweeping gesture at their surroundings. “Against all odds, Narnia needed us again, and we made it back!” Peter looked away. “We’re here, and she’s not.”

Because it’d been nearly a thousand and three hundred years since they were last in Narnia. 

“You know, I’m younger now than I was when I loved her.” A harsh, hysterical laugh came from the high king. “I’m here, living my life for a second time while she’s been dead for centuries.” A broken, choked sound escaped from Peter. “And now I know that my every second was a week for her and every minute was a month.”

Peter lifted his hands to his hair, gripping it like he wanted to tear it all off in his anguish. “Ed, she died before last summer even ended.”

Edmund swiped at his right eye, trying to pull himself together. “Peter…all the minotaurs, the-the dwarves, the giants, they’re all a part of this army because of Y/N. She’s still here.”

“Don’t feed me platitudes,” Peter snapped. “Don’t tell me that it’s Aslan’s will or that she’s in a better place or that she’s not really gone if we remember her.” He advanced on his brother, fiery anger in his eyes. “All that matters to me is that I can’t see her.” A tear slipped from the outside corner of Peter’s eye, running down his cheek. “I can’t talk to her, I can’t hear her voice, I can’t hug her, I can’t…” A sob escaped Peter. “I can’t…”

He shook his head, angrily rubbing his eyes with his fists. “Her life just flew by. She lived, and I wasn’t there.” He took a shuddering breath. “But even worse, she died, and I didn’t know.” Peter seemed to lose his balance, falling back to sit on the stone table with his head bowed. “I didn’t know,” he repeated numbly.

Edmund had never seen Peter like this. His older brother was a dreamer, a visionary. He always saw the best in people and pushed himself to be better. Now he was sitting there with no hope in his eyes.

The Just king always knew what to say, but he didn’t now.

Peter approached the witch’s wand, which had now fallen crooked as the ice continued to melt. “If the witch could bring her back with–”

“Peter, no.” Edmund was on his feet in a moment, getting in between his brother and the scepter. 

“Why not?!” Peter nearly shouted, eyes blazing. “If she could do it, why can’t we?” Peter took a step towards the wand. 

Edmund quickly stepped in his brother’s way. “We don’t know that she was telling the truth. She was going to say anything to make us bring her back.”

The look in Peter’s eye was wild. “She kept Narnia in winter for a hundred years, she turned people to stone, she created food and drink out of nothing, all with magic!”

“She was evil!” Edmund cried. He reached out a warning hand, trying to keep his brother away from the scepter. “Peter, it’s not worth it!”

“Y/N is worth everything!” Peter snarled, shoving his brother’s shoulders.

“Yes, she is!” Edmund shouted, pushing Peter back. “And she wouldn’t want you to do this!” Peter fell back a step, and Edmund seized the chance. “She wouldn’t want you to dabble in evil magic to get her back!”

Peter stilled.

Edmund hit a nerve. 

“Y/N knew magic, and she respected the Deep Magic, she respected Aslan’s plan.” Edmund brushed the sweat from his forehead. “She loved you, Pete, more than anything, but she wouldn’t want this.”

Peter’s eyes slid from Edmund to the scepter behind him and then back to Edmund.

Edmund waited, what for, he didn’t know. It was entirely possible that Peter would concede to Edmund’s point, but it was also possible that he would make a mad dash for the scepter. 

“Hey guys–” 

Both brothers turned to see Caspian, who halted in the entrance, nearly causing Doctor Cornelius to run into him. Caspian’s eyes darted between the two, obviously sensing the tension. “What’s going on?” Caspian asked. 

The brothers exchanged a look. 

“Nothing,” Peter replied, moving to sit on the stone table again. 

Edmund remained on his feet. “Doctor Cornelius?”

“Yes, my king?” the professor answered. 

“Is the witch’s wand safe to touch?”

Doctor Cornelius didn’t reply right away, his eyes resting on the high king. “We need to shatter it and bury the pieces.” 

None of them missed the way Peter’s shoulders tensed.

“The farther apart they are, the harder it will be for anyone to ever reassemble it.”

Caspian and Doctor Cornelius couldn’t see the war taking place on Peter’s face, but Edmund could. 

"Pete,” he said softly. “It’s too dangerous to leave it together.”

Peter lifted his eyes to Edmund, and Edmund knew Peter wouldn’t ever allow the wand to be broken. In Peter’s eyes, to strike at the scepter was to strike down Y/N. 

“Doctor Cornelius,” Edmund said suddenly, not looking away from his brother. 

“Yes, your majesty?”

“You’ve studied Narnian history, right?”

Doctor Cornelius scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Yes, your majesty.”

Edmund flicked his eyes over in the professor’s direction. “Tell me what you know about Y/N.” 

Peter’s jaw went slack as he blinked at his brother’s low blow. 

“Ahhhh,” Doctor Cornelius said softly, and Edmund knew the situation had dawned on the professor. “Y/N the Lionhearted.”

With those three words, Peter rose to his feet, turning away from the scepter to face the professor.

Doctor Cornelius looked calmly back at the high king. “Legend says when your majesties disappeared, Narnia wanted to make Y/N queen.”

Peter's chest stopped moving as he hung on the professor's every word. "She was queen?" 

Doctor Cornelius shook his head. “Y/N refused the title. She said that she was never meant to be queen if she wasn’t a queen beside her king.”

Peter’s body recoiled as if he’d been punched in the gut. The sharp sound of him sucking in a breath echoed through the chamber as he blindly reached out for something to support him. His hands landed on the stone table.

“She took the title of regent, and she turned down every marriage proposal she received, including, as I understand it, a proposal from a prince of Archenland.”

Edmund couldn't tell if his brother was gladdened or saddened to hear the news, for his brother's face was turned toward the floor.

“There’s a story that Y/N was walking through a market in Tashbaan when she saw a man beating a child, a slave. They say she ran in between them, taking a strike herself to protect the boy.”

The high king’s grip on the stone increased, his knuckles whitening. Edmund knew that Peter wanted nothing more than to climb into the past and take the strike for Y/N.

“When the man got angry, she paid him and whisked the boy away, raising him as her own from that day on.”

Edmund shook his head softly. He and Peter should've known that if she truly desired to raise a child, she would find a way, even if she never married.

Doctor Cornelius glanced at Caspian. “Once the boy had grown into a man, she stepped down, letting him become the next regent of Narnia.”

The high king let out a shuddering breath, the force of it causing his whole body to tremble as he looked up. “Was she happy?” 

Doctor Cornelius adjusted his glasses. “Alas, history rarely documents personal happiness, but Narnia thrived under her care and under her son’s.”

Peter shut his eyes, looking pained by the word. “How did she die?” he asked, his voice thick.

If Doctor Cornelius saw the tears shining in Peter’s eyes, he didn’t comment. “No one knows. One day when she was on Doorn, she went for a walk on the beach and never came back.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open. “Doorn?” he breathed. “She…she went to the Lone Islands?”

The doctor nodded. “Once she stepped down, she went to the Islands and lived there. Everyone there still deferred to her, even if she wasn’t the regent proper. She was fair and tolerated no cruelty. By all accounts, she was much beloved.”

Peter's knees gave out, and he sank to the floor. “She went to the Lone Islands,” he said in a gasp, his eyes still focused on the doctor. “She actually…she actually went.”

Caspian, Edmund, and Doctor all exchanged a look, all recognizing the force of the emotion radiating from the king. 

“Peter?” Caspian asked tentatively. “Are you okay?”

Peter’s breathing was far too quick. He lifted a fist and hit it against the stone table, clearing trying to rein in his emotion.

“Y/N saved Narnia,” Edmund said, his voice soft. “Just like we did. Just like we have to do again. We’re here to save Narnia, remember?” Edmund dared to rest a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Y/N lived a good life, Peter, just like you will.” Peter shook his head, still battling even when he was robbed of his voice.

“She managed to live, and she lived for you.” Edmund took a breath. “If she can do it, you can too.”

Peter’s shoulders started to shake.

Edmund opened his mouth to say more, but Doctor Cornelius held up his hand, stopping him in his tracks. The wisdom in the professor’s face was enough to make Edmund pause.

A tense silence fell.

The three men exchanged looks. How long should they wait? Should they say more? Did Peter need more convincing?

And then all the questions were put to rest, as the strained sounds of gasping came from the high king. The breaths rattled in the gaping hole of his brother's chest, the place where his heart used to be. Now, it had broken and scattered.

It didn't matter if the witch's wand was shattered and buried far and wide across Narnia, for Peter's heart was already burrowed deep in the land.

Y/N's land.

The sight of his brother shedding tears from his position on the floor, upright only because of the support of the stone table, was enough to wrench any man's heart from his chest.

Edmund knew Peter loved Y/N, and Edmund himself had loved Y/N like a sister.

But this? To see the love on the other side?

It was too much for Edmund to bear. To see his big brother like this, it was something he'd never imagined and something he knew he would never be able to forget.

Had Narnia mourned like this for it's missing monarchs? Is this what Y/N had done when he and his siblings had passed through the wardrobe? When Y/N assumed that Peter was dead, had she collapsed to the floor and lamented over her departed love?

Peter pressed his hands into his face, muffling his sobs.

Edmund dared a glance at the witch's wand.

Could...could it truly bring Y/N back? Was the witch telling the truth? Would using it be so terrible if it healed his broken brother?

"Your majesty?" Doctor Cornelius asked, and Edmund turned to see that the professor looked not at Peter, but at Edmund. His gentle, yet probing eyes reminded Edmund of Aslan's, and a wave of shame swept through him. He knew better, and he still fell for the temptation.

Edmund stepped forward, placing a hand on his brother's sagging shoulder. Peter’s bursting breaths gradually slowed as he seemed to grasp control of his agony. "Pete," Edmund said softly, "what do you want to do with the scepter?"

For a moment, there was no reply.

Then, Edmund felt the muscles in Peter's shoulder shift, and he glanced down just in time to see Peter's fingers grasp his sword.

Next thing Edmund knew, Peter was on his feet and turning in Edmund's direction. Instinctually, Edmund stepped away, a momentary terror flying into his throat.

But Peter brushed past Edmund, and with a great bellow, he brought his word down on the scepter. 

The blinding blue light made Edmund shut his eyes, and the horrible shattering sounded so similar to the witch’s screams, it made Edmund's head spin.

When Edmund opened his eyes, he saw his brother, collapsed on the floor, sobbing once again over the broken pieces of the witch’s scepter.

The way to Y/N was well and truly gone.

Peter had chosen strength, but it was at the cost of his heart.

And as Edmund watched his brother's love spill over in the form of tears, he wasn't sure his brother would ever recover.

-

I know, I’m terrible, I’m so sorry, but this idea wouldn’t leave me alone. 😫

If you enjoyed, buy me a coffee and/or check out my masterlist for more writing!

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

Bruises tag list:

@itsnottilly @sadgirlnumber92899 @sunny-theartist @fortheloveofaqueenfan @emala @leafsmindpalace @thepolywrites @janesofia7 @sunshine-and-riverwater @fluffy-canada-pancakes @rebel4fandom @the-internet-ruined-me @happyvitamin @idk-whatamidoinglmao @jakeshuneybby @idk-whatamidoinglmao @multifandomrandomgirl @felicityroth @lover4jane @psycho-magnotheric-slime

#peter pevensie #peter pevensie fanfic #peter pevensie fanfiction #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie x reader #peter pevensie x you #peter pevensie x y/n #narnia #chronicles of narnia #high king peter #high king peter the magnificent #bruises #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction

[chrisili]

𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓌𝓇𝑜𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊?

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x fem!reader

Summary: Your childhood best friend starts acting super odd and after a little incident at the train station you actually understand why.

Warnings: Spoilers if you haven’t seen the first and second movie, lots of arguing

Genre: friends to enemies to lovers? Angst? Fluff

Word count: 2,8 k

A.N.: Eh so, I actually thought this story further, like a lot but I don’t know if the rest is worth writing/reading so IF you think this needs another part eh, tell me? But again heads up, no idea if it is worth the time. THANKS FOR READING THIS ANYWAYS!

Masterlist

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Peter hugged his beloved mother one last time. “Promise me you’ll look after the others,” she said. “I will mum,” he said with a thin voice, eyes shut tight. She loses herself from the hug, smiles at him and nods, “good man.” After having said goodbye to the other three children too, she looked at them all, “alright, off you go.”

Peter and the others grabbed their luggages and started to walk closer to the train they are supposed to go in to. “Peter! Peter!” A small voice cried out, the oldest sibling looked into the direction where the voice was coming from, it was Y/N. Y/N was Peters childhood bestfriend, they went the same way to school everyday, although going to different schools because of their genders. They lived close to each other, played outside a lot and spent their times studying together (Sometimes, because both of them were not very keen on studying anyways).

Y/N stood there with her four brothers, waiting to go into the train too. Peter smiled seeing her as she hurries over, he waves shyly trying to walk up to her. “Peter, what are you doing?” Asked his sister Susan while grabbing his arm. “Just a second, really.” He replied, giving Susan his luggage so she could put it in already. She looked at him annoyed but took it anyways.

Peter and Y/N now stood in front of each other, slightly shouting because of all the noise. “Where are you going?” She asked right away leaning in a little so he would understand better. “Some kind of professor, it’s gonna be boring really.” He said slightly chuckling. “How about you?” “A cook I think, we will probably help out in the kitchen a lot but it’s okay.” Y/N said smiling.

“Y/N come on!” John, one of her younger brothers yelled from the back. She turned around, “Yes I am coming!” She yelled back annoyed. She turned back to Peter and smiled sadly at him. “I hope you will be safe Peter, I am gonna miss you.” He was close to tears for he felt the same thing about her. When she saw that he was trying not to cry in front of her she exclaimed, “Oh Peter!” Hugging him tight with her eyes shut and tears at the corners. He hugged her back tightly, wrapping his arms around her back and crying dryly into her shoulder.

“Y/N COME ON!”

“PETER! HURRY UP!”

They both stopped hugging each other and with one last smile they both ran back to their families. You may be wondering, if they are both going into the same train, why wouldn’t they just say goodbye then? This was not possible due to the fact that the train didn’t have any walkable connections between the wagons. So, both were sitting in different wagons and off the families went. Y/N and her four younger brothers traveled to the mentioned cook and Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy to said Professor. Peters story you obviously know about already, Y/N arrived at a small house with no garden and no play space. They had to help in the kitchen, wash the dishes but keep quiet and under no circumstances touch. The. Food. All five of them in the kitchen, you can imagine it was a little crowded and plates sometimes fell to the ground, shattering with a high pitched sound, with the one dropping it being punished badly.

Y/Ns brothers were all younger than her. John the second oldest being only one year younger than her, 17. Oliver, the middle child, 15. Finn, 12 and the youngest Harry, 10. It was very scary for all of them but it was the scariest for Y/N, taking care of four pubescent boys looks hard already but is worse doing it.

Let’s skip time a little here, after a couple of weeks they all came back to their homes. Obviously having got to go back to school. Y/N was very happy seeing her friend again and of course the other siblings too but somehow Peter had changed over his time at the professor, he seemed more mature and even angrier, prouder and overconfident. I, of course know why he suddenly behaved so strangely having lived in Narnia for the last 15 years but Y/N didn’t and there was no one to tell her. With Peter starting getting into fights, Y/N was kind of scared of him, where was her sweet and funny Peter all of a sudden? They, naturally, grew kind of distant. They still saw each other every morning or on the streets and greeted each other, maybe smiled shortly and then continued their way.

Peter regret deeply where their relationship headed but he couldn’t have told her, she wouldn’t believe him anyways and she would think he was crazy (which she already did to be honest).

Let’s skip a little more to one fine morning, or fight morning. Y/N was close to the train station she had been using for the last years, looking at newspapers and thinking about getting some candy (which she could hardly afford but the thought was still nice). Being caught up in her dreams she only noticed her brother Oliver running up to her when he was already in front of her panting. At first she couldn’t understand what he was saying because of all the huffing but then she did, “John, he is fighting! You have to do something, the other boys are way bigger than he is!” Without having fully registered what her brother had said she was already dragged down the station. Oliver could of course, like Edmund did, help his brother too but he was a very gentle and calm soul and had no interest in fist fights.

Running down the stairs Y/N saw a lot of people in front of her blocking the view. But after some tip toeing she saw her brother, Edmund and Peter fighting against a bunch of older boys. Thankfully a police officer tore them apart and Y/N squeezed her way down to her brother. After John was done talking to the officer, Oliver and Y/N walked up to him, not very far from the other two troublemakers (Edmund and Peter) sitting on chairs by the wall.

“What on earth is wrong with you?!” Y/N exclaimed while hitting her brother with the newspaper on his head. He rubbed his head slightly, still full of adrenaline and anger from the former fight. “Nothing is bloody wrong with me! These guys attacked Peter and I helped him, that’s it.” Hearing Peters name made her slightly angry, she glanced over to Peter who was still sitting in his chair, his blonde hair slightly over his face, looking back at her. She immediately looked back at her brother with an angry face.

“It was Peters fight then, not yours!” She said in a loud voice.

“So what? Edmund helped too!” John replied with an even louder voice, almost screaming.

“That doesn’t matter at all! Edmund is Peters brother, you aren’t!” She yelled at him.

“I wish I was!” Yelled John back, almost running away with fury.

Oliver looked back and forth between his two siblings, unsure what to do but when John hurried away, he looked at Y/N and she just nodded saying he should go with him. Y/N sighed heavily looking to the ground, she picked up her suitcase and walked away too.

“Y/N!” Peter yelled from behind, now standing hoping she would stop. She did. She also turned around slightly and looked at her former best friend, she was annoyed. “What?” She said almost rolling her eyes at him. He walked closer now with small steps, almost like approaching a deer. Y/N turned around fully now, facing Peter with her heavy suitcase in her left hand and the newspaper in her right one. “I am sorry okay? I didn’t want him to fight on my behalf either, I would have told him to leave but that’s not really possible while being kicked in the face.” He said trying to smile a little at the end.

“Not hard enough…” she mumbled.

“What was that?” He asked not having fully understood her.

She just shook her head and looked into his eyes and for the first time in a year she realized how much he had actually changed. His face and especially his jaw was a lot sharper, his face was slightly longer and had matured a lot. His blonde hair was longer and it looked gorgeous on him. Having noticed how handsome he actually was she started to blush slightly, then she shook her head again trying to free herself out of his trance. The other three siblings thought about interfering but they were too amused by the drama.

“I said not hard enough! It doesn’t matter if you wanted him to be with you or not, if you hadn’t picked up a fight in the first place, he would have not been involved!” Y/N said with a firm voice, she knew her argument hardly made sense but she was angry and she hated Peters beautiful hair. He looked at her stunned, “didn’t you hear what John said? They attacked me first!”

“And god forbid you’d just walk away!” She said with the same amount of anger as Peter did.

“I shouldn’t have to!” He said trying to stay calm.

“You know what Peter, do whatever you want, I don’t care. I really don’t but at least don’t stop me, then try to apologize to me and then be angry at me anyways! Because I am done with this! Ow.” She said while turning around having felt that someone or something had pinched her. Peter looked at her confused, not even a second later Lucy felt the same thing and yelled at Susan, “OW!”

“Quiet, Lu.” Susan said calmly, looking at her sister.

“Something pinched me!” Said Lucy back, pointing at the wall.

“Hey! Stop pulling!” Exclaimed Peter turning to Edmund as he had suddenly felt the same thing, Edmund raised his hands a little in defense, “I am not touching you.”

Y/N looked at them confused and a second later the wind in the train station seemed to pick up immensely. Papers flew around, the light started to flicker and all of their hairs and clothes blowing around.

“It feels like magic.” Lucy said excited looking at Susan.

“Quick, everyone hold hands.” Said Susan after grabbing Lucy’s and Y/N’s hand. Y/N thought this was a bit silly and she didn’t want to hold Peter’s hand but she did it anyways. Edmund having a very similar feeling to Y/N just yelled, “I’m not holding your hand,” at Peter. “Just…” Peter blurred out and grabbed his brothers hand while feeling slightly warm because of Y/N’s hand in his left hand.

The five of them stood there in the train station and in the next moment they were on the beach. A beautiful white beach with the bluest water Y/N had ever seen, the other four just started to undress and run into the water laughing. Y/N didn’t pay too much attention to them, she just looked around the scenery not understanding in the slightest where she was or what just happened. When Peter looked at Y/N he walked over to her, sand on his bare feet and his shirt wet.

“You like it?” He asked her smiling from behind, he was just so incredibly happy to be back so that he barely noticed Y/Ns shocked face. She didn’t turn around, she just looked up the mountain to Cair Paravel or anyways what was left of it. “That’s not- I don’t- Where are we and why are you not freaked out, like at all?” Peter came closer standing beside her looking up to Cair Paravel too. “Because we’ve been here before.”

Later they explained everything to her, about them being kings and queens, about the white witch, Aslan, Tummnus, the beavers, the 100 years lasting winter, the wardrobe, the professor and everything else not leaving one single detail out of the story. Y/N was clearly confused and had to think about all the information she just gathered.

Peters thoughts were right, if Y/N hadn’t been magically ported to Narnia herself she would have not believed a single word but now she actually considered it.

Even later they had realized that the ruins they currently walked in had been their old castle, Cair Paravel. They found old chests and Y/N slowly understood why Peter had been so different over the last year. That night, all five of them tried to sleep in the castle ruins but Peter, he was sitting by the edge of the mountain, his legs close to his body and his head resting on his knees.

(For a better experience you could listen to Merry Christmas – Piano Version by Flying Fingers on Spotify starting now! :) )

“You know, you should really sit back a little, you might fall down.” Y/N said appearing behind Peter and sitting beside him, only a little further from the edge. He smiled at her a little tired and then kept looking straight forward into the night sky.

“I am sorry.” He said not looking at her.

“And?”

“And nothing.”

“No angry remark or anything?” She asked him extra dramatic as a joke.

He just scoffs, “stop it, I am not nearly as aggressive as you claim me to be.”

Y/N just slightly laughs. “True… I am sorry too. I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did.”

“You had every right. You didn’t know, I should have been the one to tell you instead of just going around and acting like a king.”

“Yeah about that, am I supposed to call you ‘your majesty’ now?” Y/N said slightly laughing and Peter joined her. “I would be delighted if the beautiful lady Y/L/N just called me by my regular name.” He said in a jokingly kingly tone and they laughed again.

“Beautiful huh?” She said nudging his arm slightly with hers and he smiled at her nodding.

“Certainly, lady Y/L/N you must be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” He said bravely as the high king he is but Y/N got slightly flustered and turned her face to the front, away from Peter.

“Well you’re not the only one with good eyesight. Earlier at the train station… I thought you looked really handsome. I must have been too caught up in my own world to notice how handsome you’ve gotten in the past year.” That said he looked at her a little stunned and she quickly added, “not that you weren’t handsome before! It’s just I haven’t seen you in a while, at least not really and I was just surprised and why aren’t you stopping me?” She whined while rambling on and on.

Peter smiled at her again, “I appreciate it. I- I- Can I- Can I… kiss you?”

He said all of a sudden which may seems weird to you but you have to understand that both of them were in the most beautiful setting in the whole universe. The stars being much brighter in Narnia in the sky with the clearest beach in front of them on a little mountain, a slight breeze rushing through their hair. Having just reconnected with your best friend you had liked in a romantic way for forever, you would feel very similar to what they felt, happy.

Y/N just bit her lip, not in an erotic way. It looked more like a smiling donkey, she was just as happy and overwhelmed with feelings as he was and she nod her head up and down while smiling still. He touched her left cheek so softly that he almost didn’t feel it at all, then he leaned into her also smiling and they kissed each other, eyes closed and heads slightly tilted. It was a short but intense kiss for none of them had ever felt so safe in their entire life. Their foreheads rested against each other and with their eyes still closed they both laughed into the night.

#fanfiction #oneshot #fanfic #imagine #x reader #Narnia #narnia x reader #narnia fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia #chronicles of narnia #pevensie #peter pevensie #peter #high king #high king peter #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie x reader #Peter Pevensie x reader fluff #Peter Pevensie x reader kiss #Peter Pevensie x reader Enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #reader #female reader #fluff #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #prince caspian

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

Susan Pevensie comes back from Narnia and tries to forget, not because she doesn't believe in Narnia anymore, but because it hurts too much thinking about what she lost.

In Narnia, she was revered, respected. People wrote songs about her, asked for her hand in marriage. She was with her siblings, and she was free, and she could finally stop worrying about her brothers dying in an air raid. She had a people she protected, a land she ruled, and family to look after. She was respected in courts and battefields alike.

Narnia brought other problems, of course. Not all her suitors were kind about her rejection, and Peter and Edmund were expected to lead armies, which meant they were always in the line of fire. More than once had they come home with grave injuries that took months to recover from, even with Lucy's secret potion.

It is this Narnia Susan vividly remembers just aftee she comes back, a wild and savage land where magic roams free, but evil roams free too. It is the Narnia of eternal winter, of giants and ogres, of Aslan dying on the Stone Table. The Narnia of Telmarines, of dead friends, of failed sieges.

England forces her back into obedience, into a mold. Tells her to behave in a way expected of a young lady. Lucy can stay wild a little longer, but Susan has an education to focus on, men to impress. England tells her she is below her brothers again, should get married and have kids.

So Susan tries to forget, convincing herself that the stiff upper lip, tight collars, kneelong skirts, ridicule from adults when she speaks her mind and forced silence is better than the freedom she had in Narnia.

For that freedom had to be paid for in blood. At least in England her family and friends don't risk dying, not after the war.

She alienates from her brothers and sister further. She tells them Narnia was a game, a fantasy. But the difference in faith is also due tk the way she has to hide how it changed her. Peter, Lucy and Edmund do not have to. The boys write long essays about justice and religion, join the fencing team. Lucy dances everywhere she goes and is known to never wear shoes if she can help it.

But the archery club at school will not accept Susan. Neither will the debate team. Her teachers are annoyed with the fact she never slips up, disgruntled at the fact a woman runs rings around them intelectually. Susan is a young woman after a time of war, and all of society would rather she shut up and do what she is told.

Soon, Susan has new friends, new things that matter. All these adult thoughts she can only discuss with her brothers and sister drive her crazy, and there is no one around that takes them seriously. And so she tries to grow up as fast as possible, get to an age where people listen to her again. She forgets so that she doesn't have to deal with the feeling she was meant for much more, to ease the mourning of all that she lost when she kissed Caspian goodbye.

All the Pevensies start forgetting Narnia slowly, the memories fading. Soon none of them remember the names of their generals at Beruna. They forget the smell of battle, the weight of an iron sword in their hands. But they all still walk as if their crowns are on their heads, and ride horses in a way none of their instructors understand. It takes a while before they are back to their Narnian levels, but it is clear to them someone has instructed them before. None of them can figure out what commands they use, however. Is it western style, perhaps? Or maybe rodeo? They cannot have been taught in England, not with the amount of control they can exert with and without saddles, the sense of balance. Some of their teachers are astonished by their academic growth, but others attribute it to the lax education standards after the war. Susan is sold short most often, but all the Pevensie children suffer from arguments with teachers and attitude problems. Teachers generally don't like it if you behave like you are older or more important than them. It's worse because they are almost never wrong, even though all of them feel the effects that having a teenage brain has on their speed of thought and the coherence of their arguments.

The Pevensies deal with these remnants of Narnia in different ways. Susan becomes an actress. She picks West End over Oxford because the stage is a place she is allowed to be free. And since Narnia, dry textbooks don't thrill her like they used to, while the fantasy concepts of spirits and courts and magic and other things thespians work with entince her all the more. Inside her is a longing to become someone else. She knows where it comes from, but she doesn't want to acknowledge it.

Susan plays a queen often, or a diplomat, or a model. Something about her performances have audiences hooked, convinced she was royalty in a different life.

Remembering Narnia hurts. She scolds someone for being reckless with the stage props while teaching them the correct way for a full minute before realizing the person in question is older than her, and doesn't listen to a young woman. He has the same name as her younger brother.

So Susan forgets. But as she carves her way into the elite of old Hollywood, years later, she begins to remember as well. What it's like to have a voice. How it feels like to have people listen.

When Lucy, Edmund and Peter die in the train accident, Susan weeps for days. She knows what she has lost in them. She is now the only person fluent in their interpersonal language, the only one that still remembers the mating call of the centaurs, what jokes a forest spirit makes. She is now truly alone in the world.

Narnia comes rushing back to her during this grieving period. Eventually, she remembers that she used to have a voice, a crown, lovers of whatever gender she wanted. And also how Narnia would have you pay for freedom in blood. They gave up on that freedom to protect her siblings. only to lose them anyways. Suddenly, Susan remembers how Narnia was fair, how a bargain struck was a bargain kept. She remembers the nymphs, the trees in spring. She remembers the beauty of it all.

Later, when Susan is a grown woman and an arrived actor in Hollywood, Aslan begins returning to her dreams. He never speaks to her, but the sight of him gives her strenght. She was once Susan the Gentle, who accompanied Aslan to his death. It is time she returns to being that person.

After the Stonewall riots and during the AIDS epidemic, Susan is the only actress willing to make a public stand. It costs her 2 box office hits and a 3 month ban from the tabloids. But she remembers justice, and the price of freedom. Others start looking to her for wisdom, just like they did all those years ago. Susan feels her quiet strenght returning, her faith slowly coming back.

She stops wishing she could forget Narnia. The magic that was responsible for the memory faded with time. Maybe it was just to protect her from mourning a world where she was so much more.

When Susan looks at the boys coming back from wars in Korea and Vietnam, she recognizes the look in their eyes. Reflected in their behaviour is a maturity that shouldn't be present in teenagers. The loss of innocence, the unrepairable damage to their childhood illusions. It is a look she spent her twenties avoiding mirrors for, because she knew what it meant. No matter what she told herself then, she believed in Narnia. She still does now.

She knows her siblings are in a different place now, and that she revoked her faith in that place, but slowly, as the years grey her hair and wrinkle her face, she begins to believe she may one day join them there. She remembers Aslan as a kind lion, even if he wasn't a tame one.

She grew old in Narnia once, after all. She hopes to die there.

Once a queen of Narnia, always a queen of Narnia

#my most famous post on here is about the Pevensies coming back to England #here are some more thoughts about it. #narnia meta #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #narnia #peter pevensie #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #susan pevensie meta #idk this concept of forgetting the other world seems fucked up #prince caspian #character analysis #fanfic #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie fanfic #the problem of susan

[riordanness]

cardigan — [e.pevensie]

wordcount: 1.5K

warnings: not technically x reader as ‘reader’ is named Belle

requested: no

“She won’t stop staring.”

“Then stop looking.”

Belle has to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous Telmarine soldiers. They’re both clearly terrified of their mission, and are both riddled with anxiety about the entire thing. Which is hilarious.

“You could just let me go,” she says nonchalantly. “Save yourself the risk of aggravating the woods’ spirits.”

The Telmarine facing her gives her a glare. His grip on the sword across his lap tightens.

Belle decides to shut up.

“Here will do,” the other soldier says, the oars in his hands slowing. “Let's just dump her and get it over with.”

The soldiers get to their feet unsteadily. The boat rocks, and Belle wonders what would happen if she tried to tip all three of them into the water. But before she can come up with a good way to execute that plan, the Telmarine snatches her up, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

“Drop them!” An unfamiliar female voice rings out, and stories of ghosts in the woods run through Belle’s mind. She half turns, and just has time to see four figures on the shore before she’s dropped, literally, into the cold water.

Bubbles surround Belle, and she’s disoriented instantly. Her bound wrists make it impossible to swim, so she sinks, struggling furiously to get loose. Her dress is heavy and sticking to her legs. Her chest is tightening, and black is crawling at the edges of her vision.

Then, something pulls at her, arms slide around her waist, and she is yanked out of the water. Belle gasps, practically drinking the air.

She’s pulled to shore, and laid down on the sand. Something cuts the ropes from her hands. She coughs for a second, getting her bearings back. Drowning was a very awful experience. Belle did not recommend it at all.

“Are you alright?” A girl’s voice asks her, a different one from before, younger.

Belle reacts, twisting as she rises, her dagger, which was previously concealed in her skirts, at the young girl’s throat within seconds.

Shouting erupts from behind them, and Belle glanced to see three others, two boys and an older girl, all with weapons at the ready. The girl has an arrow aimed at Belle’s heart, and both boys have their swords raised.

“Drop it,” the older boy tells her, and his voice is hard and commanding, like he’s used to giving orders.

The girl at Belle’s side doesn’t look particularly scared. “It’s okay,” she promises. “We’re friends.”

Belle narrows her eyes. “How would I know that?”

“Well,” the older girl says, “we did just save your life.”

“Actually, that was me.” It’s the younger boy this time. Belle focuses on him. He has dark hair that’s slightly curly and wet. He looks about her age, and his clothes are wet too. “Don’t worry,” he says to Belle. “We are friends. We won’t hurt you. Just please let Lucy go?”

Belle takes a step back from Lucy, still watching them all carefully. “Fine. Thanks for saving me. Bye.” She turns, but doesn’t even make it three steps before the older boy calls after her.

“Wait!”

She sighs, and looks at them.

“We don’t even know your name.” The older girl has her bow away now, but her eyes look plenty vicious enough for Belle. She doesn’t trust them; any of them.

“I’m Belle,” she says flatly. “Now can I go?”

“Why were they trying to drown you?” Lucy looks up at Belle, and her childlike innocence warms Belle’s heart. She has pretty eyes, too, Belle thinks, full of bravery and fearlessness and determination.

“Because I ran away from the castle where I was, well, a servant of sorts. Because I’m on the side of the true king. And because Miraz is a tyrant,” Belle says.

“Whoa Miraz?” the older boy asks.

Belle raises an eyebrow. “Where have you been living lately? Under a rock? He’s the sort of King? Of Narnia?”

“Narnia?” Lucy gasps. “So it is Narnia!”

Belle frowns. “Uh. Yes. This is Narnia. I’m confused.”

The four all exchange looks. “We’ll tell you,” the older girl tells Belle. “But you have to tell us your story first.”

Belle shrugs. “Whatever.”

Soon enough, the five of them are seated around a campfire. The sun is going down, and Belle’s still-wet dress is chilling her to the core. She doesn’t say anything about it, though.

“So,” she starts, accepting a toasted apple from Lucy. “I’m a handmaid in Miraz’s palace. He’s the brother of the king, but he’s basically put himself in the role of king ever since King Caspian the Ninth died. His son, Caspian the Tenth, should be king, but Miraz doesn’t want that. He wants the throne to himself, you see. Anyways, I’m on the side of Caspian and the old Narnians, so I helped him escape a few nights ago. Miraz’s wife had a baby boy, so he wants to kill Caspian and make himself the king, now that he has an heir.”

Belle takes a bite of the apple, and it’s surprisingly good. “I was going to be executed because they somehow found out I helped Caspian.”

“Yikes,” the younger boy says, throwing his apple core into the flames. “Cool story.”

The older girl is watching Belle. “So what’s your plan now?” she asks.

Belle shrugs. “Go into the woods. Find Caspian and help him to get his throne back, I guess. We were always really close at the palace, since I grew up there and we’re not too far apart in age.”

The emotions in her voice must have been more obvious than she thought, because Lucy shuffles over to sit beside her, their shoulders touching. Belle gives the girl a soft smile, before she glanced up at the other three.

“So?” she says. “What’s your story?”

The older two exchange a glance. “We’re the kings and queens of old,” the older boy says. “I’m High King Peter, the Magnificent.”

Belle isn’t even that shocked. She’s kind of guessed it by now, even though it was impossible. “You know you guys should be about 1200 years old now, right?”

The younger boy chuckles. “I’m Edmund.”

Belle nods her head at him. “I figured. And you must be Queen Susan?” She glances at the older girl. Susan smiles gently.

“Just Susan is fine.”

Belle salutes. “Whatever you say, Just Susan.”

Edmund laughs again, but tries to hide it with a cough.

Belle stands, shaking her heavy skirts as best she can. It’s an awful material, still holding most of the water from earlier in its skirts. She lets out an angry sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks.

“Oh, it’s my dress,” Belle sighs, sitting back down. “They didn’t let me change for the execution and I was doing heavy cleaning this morning. It’s a really terrible dress to wear while it’s wet.”

Lucy looks at Edmund. “Do we still have our school things?” she asked excitedly.

Edmund nods, slowly at first but then he seems to get the idea. “I’ll get them.” He hurries over to the rowboat, which now has a small pile of their things next to it. He brings back over a white shirt and black pants, as well as a strange black skirt.

“Here,” he hands them to Belle. “Sorry—they’re mostly boy’s things but you look about my size and Susan ruined her shirt earlier. But there’s my shirt and pants and Su’s skirt if you'd rather that.”

Belle offers him a smile. “Thank you, King Edmund.”

“No need to call me King,” he says back, as he lays himself back onto the sand. His black hair is messy and reflects the fire’s flickering light.

“I’m just going to go get changed in the tree line,” Belle tells the group. “If I ain’t back in five, panic.”

The others grin as she heads off, the clothes bundled in her arms. Behind a tree, she pulls her dress off over her head, depositing it in a bush. She then peels off her petticoats and corset, leaving only her thin under-bodice and under-shorts on. Belle then tried on Edmund’s shirt, which fits surprisingly well. It’s an odd kind of shirt though, a lot stiffer than ones she’s used to mending. She buttons it up, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows and leaving the top two buttons undone. Now that she isn’t wet, it’s a pretty warm night.

Belle decides to wear the skirt, as she is shorter than Edmund and doesn’t want to wear his pants if they’ll be too long. They’d just be a tripping hazard. She instead pulls on Susan’s skirt, buttoning it up on the side. It’s also very strange, but comfortable, and very freeing and easy to move in. It stops just above her knee. Belle runs her hands through her hair, which has long since come undone and is tangled and knotted due to the water.

Feeling somewhat presentable, Belle scoops up the clothes from the ground and heads back to the fire.

Edmund’s eyes are on her at once, and she isn’t sure if the heat in her cheeks is from him or the fire.

“Oh—“ Edmund stutters a little. “That… you look good in those.”

Belle smiles, a little triumphant. “They’re quite comfortable. Thank you, Edmund.”

“Anytime,” he replies softly. “Anytime.”

#edmund pevensie #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #narnia fanfic #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #lucy pevensie

[quecksilvereyes]

It isn't that Lucy doesn't know Helen is her mother. She remembers, in hazy, smudged colours, the shape of those lips upon her forehead. The feeling of those soft fingers in her hair, knotted at the back, greasy in the front. Dark eyes, in dots, as a painting that makes no sense at all when viewed up close.

Helen Pevensie is thick layers of paint, not yet dry. Not yet framed. Not yet hung, with instructions on where to stand. So when Lucy, with child-eyes and child-lungs, looks at her, she sees:

Susan's smile lines. Peter's nose. The blush of Edmund's lips. Her own freckles, faded and powdered. Smudged. When she smiles and cradles little eight year old Lucy in her arms, the paint flakes from her hair.

Greys and browns. Blues.

Susan's skin is smooth. There is a gap between her teeth, and her hair is too short by half. Lucy skims her knees running on a straight alley, and it's Susan who holds her in her lap, humming songs of home. Susan's small hands on her neck, Susan's eyes, no longer golden as the mid-day sun in a cloudless sky.

Peter's nose is missing the hump that came from breaking it when he was ten-and-seven. His cheeks are bare. His hands are steady when she presses against him, fevered and coughing and greying at the edges. His voice is too high when he reads to her, and his skin is too soft.

His eyes are just blue, now, nevermind the storm outside.

It isn't that Lucy doesn't know Helen is her mother. It is just that her lap isn't the one she folds herself into. It's just that it isn't her blouse she presses her tears into.

"Lucy, darling", says Helen Pevensie. Her eyes are grey. Her mouth is grey. Her hands are grey. "Come sit with your mother, hm?" Lucy turns her face into the crook of Susan's neck.

Helen Pevensie sighs.

#the chronicles of narnia #narnia #tcon #lucy pevensie #helen pevensie #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #in which lucy muses on parenthood #in which helen has lost her youngest #tcon fanfic #tcon fanfiction #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #larissa makes things

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐝, 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧 & 𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆.

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: all characters over the age of 18

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿  

・You didn't know how it all started. You had no idea how or why all four of them were pining after you. Well, you didn't notice it at first. You guessed it was denial.

・And you never thought of yourself as that beautiful. Not compared to other women at court (which was self-confidence based, not on truth, but you didn't feel that.)

・But for some reason, you had caught all four men's eyes.

・Some thought you had put a spell on them, and at times, you thought that yourself. Because you would find hidden love letters, flowers and presents in your rooms.

・You would be escorted by one of them every morning to wherever it is you needed to go

・You were never ... without attention. You were always being asked for dinner, for a date, for a horse ride.

・But you weren't the type to take away someone's free will. Even if you did have a crush on each man.

・Peter was High King, and so passionate. So ready to defend his kingdom, his people and his family.

・King Edmund, but Ed as you knew him, was so witty, kind and you couldn't deny that whenever he winked at you from across a room your heart beat faster

・Caspian ... god .... his accent, his hair, the way he always put you at ease. And he always made time for you.

・And then Eustace, who the Pevensie's said he was once an irritating young boy, who had grown up. Narnia had helped him mature. Plus, you loved that wherever Eustace went, Reepicheep went as well.

・Eustace towers over you, and his smile ... you always get jealous when he smiles at anyone else. You would never admit that though.

・It was very suspicious that they all decided to pursue you. Susan had brought it up, talking to Lucy about it. They both wanted to understand why three members of their family were head over heels for the same young woman

・When they asked you, (you were slightly hurt by this and Lucy could see it on your face;)

"We don't mean it like that!" Lucy said walking forward and taking hold of your hand.

"Oh no! Not at all, it's just ... out of the ordinary," said Susan.

・Lucy had grown to be just as tall as her sister. And just as beautiful. You were confused as to why Caspian wasn't pursuing Susan.

"Oh! Because I know there are more beautiful people in the castle. And I've wondered why this was happening as well."

・You liked the surprises, which turned into dates. But now you knew that Susan and Lucy were gathering evidence

・Eustace was the first to ask you on a date. To which you said yes.

・He took you to his favourite spot in Narnia. A sparkling pool that cleaned anything completely off of you as soon as you got in.

"It's great for washing!"

・You didn't believe him at first. But he brought a pot of ink and spilt it all over his finest shirt.

・You gasped, but watched as he took off his shirt and plunged it into the water. Immediately the bubbles turned into sparkes, and almost like small rays of light bounced from the fabric, where the ink had once been.

・He pulled it back out and it was almost gleaming.

"H-holy god, this place really is magical," you said and touched the fabric. It was dry as well. But you were doing your best to advert your gaze. Eustace was shirtless and you were blushing...

"How did you come across this?" You asked, trying to take the attention away from the tension

・He coughed. Then put on his shirt.

"I-I love exploring Narnia-" He said with a slight smile, realising his actions

・You bowed your head and looked back at the water, hesitant to touch it. But you plunged your hand into it and instantly you were filled with light.

"Oh my-" Eustace said, looking at you like you had two heads.

"What is it?" You said, swishing your hand through the water.

"You're ... glowing."

・That's when a voice came forward.

"Y/N, what are you doing out here- oh, Eustace," said High King Peter atop his horse.

"Cousin," Eustace bowed his head as Peter trotted forward, his horse just as regal as he.

"Hello, my King."

Peter tutted, "how many times do I have to tell you. Just Peter."

・You blushed, already standing. You stood next to Eustace and felt incredibly awkward; not just because of the two cousins who were staring one another down, but because you were barefoot with unbound hair and completely without makeup.

"Well..." said Peter's horse. The mighty steed, Gideon, who was taller than you.

"I was wondering if you wanted to dine with me tonight?" Peter asked you, and you smiled, nodding.

With almost like a sigh of relief, Peter beamed but tried to hold it in, "I'll see you at seven in my dining quarters."

・Oh, alone. You hadn't had dinner with any of the men alone.

#witchthewriter #witch the writer's headcanons #narnia #narnia headcanons #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #prince caspian #eustace scrubbs #peter pevensie headcanons #edmund pevensie headcanons #prince caspian headcanons #eustace scrubbs headcanon #headcaon #love triangle #boyfriend headcanons #narnia fanfic #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #aslan #the chronicles of narnia #headcanons #moodboard

[to-the-western-wood]

(over text)

peter: somebody kill me

edmund: i said i was sorry but it's your fault for not knocking

caspian: i am so sorry i'm never going to step foot in your house again

lucy: hello context????

edmund: he walked in on me and cas

peter: i wish i could carve my eyes out of my skull

#this may or may not be from a fanfic #in a different fandom #which i will not disclose #incorrect narnia quotes #incorrect quotes #narnia #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #caspian x #lucy pevensie #casmund

[sparklewrites1]

"We spoke often of Narnia in the days that followed. And when my cousins left, after the war ended... I missed them with all my heart."

IM NOT FUCKING OKAY IM CRYIN RN

#fanfic #fanfiction #narnia #prince caspian #writing #ben barnes #will poulter #eustace scrubb #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #peter pevensie #narnia voyage of the dawn treader #narnia prince caspian #☆sparkletalks

[awillowdryad]

So I haven't been on here in months but have just popped on and it makes me so happy to see all the people who have liked or reblogged my artwork. You are all so kind! So if any of you are seeing this, I just wanna say thank you. <3

Also, I'm considering sharing fanfic on here. I've been scribbling fics away in notebooks for years but have reached a point where I feel like I wanna share what I write. I'm still trying to learn my way around Tumblr but if anyone had any tips/advice that would be greatly appreciated! :)

#narnia #narnia fanfiction #peter pevensie fanfic

[electrictorch]

imagine

inspired by: this peter pevensie x reader fanfic by @thegrxywitch

warnings: none.

aes: soft, tender, romantic

You've been in Narnia for a couple of years, now. You stand on a balcony of Cair Paravel, looking down at the beach where Aslan walked away last time you all saw him. Somehow peaceful times are coming, you think as the warm breeze gives away the upcoming spring. No wars for a while. That'd be nice.

What would England look like by this time? Has the war ended? It's not the first time you wonder about what is happening back where you came from, where once home was. It's true -- now Narnia is home, the place you have been growing up since you first stepped into the wardrobe, but the love you've grown for this kingdom does not completely shake off a natural curiosity. Normal questions loom in the distance, especially when you are alone.

You hear the sound of boots coming from behind you. No need to turn around -- you know very well who this is. You let a small sigh slip through your lips, unconsciously brushing the hair away from your face. "Narnia has never been so pretty," you say.

"You've never been prettier," he answered, standing next to you. You check him out from the corner of your eye. "You get prettier by the day," he adds, putting an arm around your shoulders.

There you stand for a while, eyes on the horizon, no need to say anything. Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen of Narnia. That is what you are. You're home.

#narnia #fanfic #oneshot #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #short scene #edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #narnia imagines #my writing

[thepremedthatwrites]

On the House (pt. 2)

summary: The Pevensies have decided to run a cafe together, a cafe that the reader has come to frequent every Saturday like clockwork. As time goes on, it becomes evident that a certain blond has started to catch feelings for the reader.

requested by @theonottsbxtch

part 1 | part 3

The next Saturday all four siblings were in the cafe, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the mystery girl who had managed to catch the heart of the eldest of them. They all turned to said eldest expectantly as the clock on the wall read 12:50. He rolled his eyes but still made his way to the register. He could feel his siblings constantly throw him glances with each second that ticked by, but the burning sensation of their stares was muted by his excitement to see the girl again. There was something about her mannerisms that made her likeness get stuck in his mind like a mouse caught in a glue trap. 

He liked that she would always order the same thing, the sense of schedule and reliability pleasing to him. The way she would hunch over her book when she got to a good part would have made his mother gasp in horror, but he couldn’t help but smile at how engrossed she could get in her book. And how her fingers would linger just one second longer than what would be considered normal as she took her change made his heart start to race. But not because he had any romantic feelings for her. No. He just found it interesting the way she acted. He had never met someone like her before. That was all.

The sound of the door closing broke him from his thoughts and before he knew it, she was standing in front of him. The girl was delightfully surprised to see the cute boy standing at the register again. She enjoyed the sound of his voice and found herself taking longer to order when she was with him, even though she always got the same thing. But what if she wanted coffee instead of tea? And how do they get the lavender flavor so expertly infused into the scone? With each question, the boy always gave a well informed and precise answer, but she didn’t care about that. She only cared to hear his voice for a bit longer. And those eyes. She could never get tired of seeing his eyes that held an ocean. They could be angry and wild at one moment (usually when he was dealing with his siblings) or calm and soft the next (like when he was looking at her). She had a feeling that she would drown in them if she weren’t careful. She also had a feeling she wouldn’t be the first to do so.

She approached the register, already having her order in mind. “One lavender scone and an earl grey with a splash of honey?” the boy asked. The girl froze in her steps, not sure what to say. She didn’t think she had come enough times for him to remember her order.

“That would be correct,” she replied, taking out her wallet. 

“Could I get a name for that?” the boy asked. Again, the girl was surprised. They had never asked for her name before. She studied the boy’s face, trying to tell if this was his way of flirting or not. His face was straight, no emotion shown at all.

“(Y/n),” she replied. 

“Perfect, (y/n),” the boy said, his voice slowing down as he got to her name. He smiled. “I’ll have that out for you in a second.” 

“Thank you.” She turned around and walked to her usual table by the window. She stole one last glance at the cute boy before focusing on her book.

“Oh, you are so in love!” the youngest exclaimed as Peter started to make the drink.

“Oh, shut it Lu,” he grumbled, yet he turned to look at (y/n) who was now reading her book. (Y/n). What a beautiful name. He mouthed her name, enjoying the way it bounced around his mouth and rolled off his tongue. He smiled softly as he thought of how it felt to say it aloud. 

“You’re grinning like an idiot,” Edmund said as he plated the scone. 

“It’s called working in customer service,” Peter replied. Before he could grab the scone, Lucy snatched it from the counter before grabbing the tea from Peter’s hand. 

“While you two bicker, I’m going to meet my future sister-in-law,” she said before turning around and walking towards the table quick enough that Peter couldn’t hold her back. “Earl grey and lavender scone?”

“Oh, thank you.” The girl was surprised, usually it was the cute boy who delivered the food to her. 

“Of course! You know, my oldest brother Peter, he’s the one with the blond hair,” she paused to turn and point to him, (y/n)’s gaze following, “says you come here every Saturday at precisely one o’clock. Is there a reason for that?”

“Oh no, it just ends up being the only time that fits in my schedule and I like..” (y/n) got distracted for a moment as she watched Peter slap away who she assumed to be his brother’s hand, “the food. It’s delicious. And so is the tea!”

“Mmhmm,” Lucy said, a grin growing on her face. “Well I’m happy you like our food so much and I hope you continue to be a regular.” And with that, she turned around and walked back to the counter. (Y/n) shrugged, assuming the girl was only trying to make small talk to raise the ratings for the cafe, and returned to her book, periodically taking breaks to have her scone and tea.

#peter pevensie one shot #peter pevensie fanfic #high king peter the magnificent #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader #peter x reader #peter pevensie imagine #peter pevensie preference #the pevensies #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #narnia #the chronicles of narnia #narnia fanfiction

[im-a-wonderling]

Bruises, Part 16 ~ Peter Pevensie

Dedicated to @valiantlytransparentwhispers​, for being her wonderful self. 

Alright, y’all. I’m planning to have the rest of Bruises posted before the new year, so send me all the writing fairies and let’s get crackin’! 

Warnings: Nothing I can think of, but let me know if there should be!

Word count: 7.0k

Bruises Masterlist

Before I could stop myself, my hands wrapped around the bars of the door and tugged. It didn’t budge. “Unlock this,” I ordered, turning back to face the creatures. 

To their credit, Magdrul and the other advisors didn’t blanch…but the ogre and bear standing guard behind him did. When nobody moved, my heart pounded against my chest like a battering ram. How far was this army willing to follow me? I could only imagine the expectations they had and how spectacularly I was failing them at the moment. Flexing my authority would only work so many times before their goodwill ended and their questions began. 

Madgrul turned to the ogre. “You heard Her Excellency. Unlock the door.”

I nearly made a face at the title, but the ogre obeyed, lumbering forward and pulling a ring of keys off of his belt. As he fiddled with the lock, King Edmund got to his feet, wincing as the chains connecting him to the wall clicked and clattered. 

As soon as the cell door was open, I lurched forward, rushing over to King Edmund. “What in the world are you doing here?” I said in a low tone, hoping no one else would hear. 

King Edmund matched my volume. “They kidnapped my party.”

“What were you even doing in these woods in the first place?”

“The dryads.” King Edmund swallowed, looking afraid. “They’re getting worse. They attacked my party and killed two of my men.”

Anxiety rose up in my throat, nearly choking me. King Edmund’s eyes darted over my shoulder, reminding me that we weren’t alone. I couldn’t express my fears with them listening. I needed King Edmund’s private counsel. 

I turned to address the soldiers. “Please, release them and give them food and drink.” For a moment, I worried I’d have to conjure some believable reason why I wanted them to be released, but the ogre seemed to have learned. He went to each Narnian soldier, unlocking their chains one by one. 

The fear mixed with hatred on the faces of the half a dozen Narnian soldiers made my stomach sink. I could only imagine what was running through their minds. 

But I couldn’t change any of that now. 

I watched as the bear and ogre led the Narnian soldiers out of the dungeon, leaving me alone with King Edmund and the advisors. “I require a private room,” I said to Magdrul. “The king and I need to talk.”

Magdrul regarded me, not with suspicion, but with worry.  I found myself holding my breath, wondering whether or not he would allow it. 

But Magdrul finally lowered his head and said: “I will show you to your chambers.”

I had to squash my surprised response before it left my mouth. Since when did I have chambers? 

Keeping my posture straight and not allowing any uncertainty to show on my face, I ensured that the Narnian soldiers were indeed being looked after. Once I’d seen the Narnian soldiers practically stuffing their faces with food, I allowed Magdrul to lead King Edmund and I through the maze of corridors.

For such a small palace, I thought as we walked up a staircase, it sure has some questionable architectural design.

I glanced over at King Edmund, who seemed to get paler and paler the more we climbed. 

With a start, I realized he was probably recognizing a lot of this place. He’d been held captive here, and no mysterious entity had removed those memories from him. His memories were pure and untampered with. A flash of envy shot through me, and I quickly scolded myself for it. Now was not the time. 

Magdrul stopped outside a large door with harsh etchings on the doorframe. “If you need anything–”

“Thank you, Magdrul,” I said, ushering King Edmund inside. “You’ve been a big help.”

Whatever Magdrul had been about to say, I firmly shut the door before he could get it out. I slumped against the wood, relieved to finally drop my self-assured pretense. “So…” King Edmund stood with an odd look on his face. “It seems we have a lot to talk about.”

I swallowed and looked around the room. The size and grandeur of it seemed to rival that of Peter’s, which didn’t make sense. His rooms were fit for a high king, whereas mine, as the witch’s heir, should’ve been more humble. The ceiling was nearly as high as the ceiling in the witch’s throne room, and the frame of the four-poster bed nearly reached it. The white bedding was fresh, not a hint of damage or dust, so someone must’ve prepared this bed for me. 

When they would’ve had the time, I didn’t know.

There was a large wooden table with a meal on it, and a large chest sitting at the foot of the bed. Both were etched with the same carvings on the doorframe. Strange markings that looked to be in another language and sent a chill down my spine. 

A doorway stood at the other end of the room, and I could just see a porcelain claw-foot tub big enough to fit Achlosh and Adonis at the same time. 

My ‘chambers’ were enormous, and yet I didn’t recognize a single inch of them.

The king and I sat at the table, and while he ate the meal that was probably intended for me, I told him everything that had occurred since he’d left Cair Paravel. 

Once I finished my story and he’d finished his food, King Edmund leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “So. You and Peter were having a fight when Gonin broke into Cair Paravel, threatened Peter, and transported you away.”

“Yes.”

“And Gonin told you that you’re responsible for at least eleven deaths and tried to kill you for it before Adonis shot and killed him.”

“Yes.”

“And you found out that you were, in fact, a princess, and now you have an army at your disposal.”

“Apparently.” 

He let out an amused huff. “And it’s only noon.”

“What do I do?” I asked, completely at a loss. “I’m just a chambermaid, I’m not qualified for this.”

“Well, you’re not and apparently never have been ‘just a chambermaid’.”

I threw my hands in the air. “That doesn’t mean I suddenly know what to do! I still don’t remember anything more about my past, and now suddenly I’m supposed to lead an army?” 

King Edmund smiled at me. “If my siblings and I could do it, you can do it.”

His apparent faith in me didn’t make me feel any better. “At least give me some advice.”

“My advice?” King Edmund stroked his chin, deep in thought. “Send out my Narnian party as messengers to my brother, telling him we’re both alive and safe.”

“Will the army even let me send the messengers?”

“They didn’t hesitate to unchain them and provide food when you ordered it.” He shrugged. “I think they’re truthful about following you.”

He was right. They didn’t seem to have any hidden agenda, nor any no plans beyond their commitment to following me. I’d asked them to do things that probably felt counterintuitive, and yet they’d still obeyed. 

“And then, after I send the messengers?”

“Sleep.” King Edmund smiled kindly. “No good decisions are made when one is low on sleep, and you look dead on your feet.”

As if it’d been summoned, I yawned a gigantic yawn, my jaw cracking. 

Magdrul managed to rustle up a pen and some paper. After talking with King Edmund to figure out the correct message, I wrote six letters, all bearing the same message telling Peter that his brother and I were safe in the witch’s castle with her army, who were not our enemies, and asking him to come as soon as possible for me to explain everything. 

Not knowing what the Narnian soldiers thought of me, I asked King Edmund to direct them. They’d follow his instructions sooner than mine, and it was his plan to begin with anyways. 

I felt lighter as I watched the messengers leave from the balcony. Soon Peter would know I was safe, and he’d come to the castle and help me figure out what to do. In the meantime, King Edmund was right. I was exhausted. I crawled onto the bed, not even managing to get under the covers before falling asleep.

-

Gonin’s hands were holding me tight. “When the high king finally catches up with me,” he said, his breath flowing across my cheek, “I’ll tell him that you were crying when I killed you, begging for him to save you.”

“No,” I whimpered, pushing against him as hard as I could, but he just laughed, an oddly distorted sound. 

“I will haunt him for the rest of his life!” Gonin crowed, raising his dagger. 

Then came the sound of an impact, and Gonin’s body crumpled on top of me. I screamed, squirming out from underneath him.

Once I’d gotten to my feet, I stood there, panting and staring at the dead man at my feet. 

“Y/N?” 

I turned to look at the place in the clearing where Adonis had been when he’d fired the arrow, but instead of a centaur, there stood a blond man. 

“Peter,” I said, going weak with relief. 

Peter ran towards me, throwing his arms around me and nearly crushing me against him. “Oh, thank Aslan, you’re alive!”

The feeling of Peter’s arms around me was overwhelming, and unbidden tears welled up in my eyes. 

Peter’s life had been threatened in front of me, I’d been stolen away from the safety of Cair Paravel, then I was accused of murder, and I somehow inherited a questionable army. Everything I’d known had been changed and challenged, and yet here I was with Peter in our dreams, a place we’d been together time and again. 

I clung to Peter, holding him tight. “I’m okay,” I hiccuped, saying it to myself as much as I was to him. “I’m alright.”

 Peter pulled out of the embrace, searching my body as if injuries to my real body would show on my dream body. Once he seemed satisfied in my good health, he glanced over at where Gonin’s body lay. “Is…is this a dream or a memory?” Peter asked tentatively. 

“Memory.” Peter’s jaw went slack, and I nodded grimly. “Gonin’s dead. Adonis killed him.”

Peter’s eyes shut, and he whispered a quick: “Oh, thank goodness.” He opened his eyes again and brushed my hair out of my face. “Tell me where you are, and I’ll come find you.”

I winced. “Um…that’s kind of a long story.”

Queen Susan’s voice came seemingly from nowhere, echoing around us as if we stood in her throat. “Peter! Wake up! There’s a messenger!”

Peter’s form started to fade, even as his grip on me tightened. “Tell me where you are.” 

“You’ll find out soon enough,” I said gently. “I love you.”

“Y/N, I want you to–” Before the rest of the sentence could leave his mouth, he disappeared completely. 

I stared at the grass where he’d stood. Had I always been the first one to wake up from our shared dreams? I must’ve been, because never before had I stood alone in whatever world that began and ended in the confines of my own mind. 

Yet despite being freshly alone in the Western Woods, I didn’t feel abandoned or vulnerable.

I felt like I was home.

-

I stood in front of the mirror beside the gigantic bed. 

King Edmund was right, I felt much better after sleeping, but my appearance did not remotely suggest that I could be any sort of leader. 

My hair was an absolute mess, not to mention the array of stains on my robe and nightdress. The green I knew came from the grass, and the brown from the dirt. I didn’t even want to think about where the red came from. 

No, this needed to be remedied before Peter showed up. 

I opened the door to the bedchamber, seeing the cyclops that was posted there. “Excuse me, but could I trouble you for a bath and a change of clothes?”

“There are clothes in the chest in the corner,” came the grunting reply. “I will ask one of the hags to get some bathwater for you.” He lumbered away.

Leaving the door open for his return, I walked over to the chest and pushed open the lid. Upon seeing the contents, I immediately recoiled in disgust. 

The witch’s clothes, neatly folded and untouched by time. 

But what were the witch’s clothes doing in my room? 

I looked around the chamber with new and wide eyes. 

These rooms were far too grandiose for a child, even if that child had been a princess. Which meant there was a reason I didn’t recognize them. 

This must’ve been where the witch slept every night. 

Why ever had Magdrul brought me here? Did he view me as a replacement for the witch? Did he expect me to once again bring an eternal winter to Narnia and enslave the land in fear?

The thoughts were distressing, and I wanted nothing more than to slam the chest shut and never look in it again. But it was either this or continue walking around looking like I’d just spent the night in a fox den. 

Reeling in my disgust, I dug through the chest, trying to find the plainest and most inconspicuous garment to wear. Unfortunately, the witch wasn’t much for being inconspicuous. I’d also forgotten how freakishly tall she was. I held up a blue-grey dress, the only one that wasn’t white. The top of the dress would fit me well enough, but the length would be enough to make me trip every which way. 

The material was cool against the skin of my fingers, as if a part of the witch’s essence lived on in this dress. 

If that wasn’t a bone-quivering thought…

I tried to remind myself of the facts. In the dream, Susan’s voice had said there was a messenger, which meant Peter and I would soon be reunited. Maybe he’d even arrive before the sun set. Soon, all would be well. I just needed to be patient and hold everything together until then. 

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in!”

Tolna poked her head into the chambers. “You wanted to bathe, Your Excellency?”

Hearing my title in her screechy voice nearly made me shiver. “Yes.”

Tolna nudged the door open, and I saw several hags beside her, all of them holding large pitchers, presumably of water. 

I watched the hags troop into the bathroom, dumping the water into the bathtub. While the other hags fussed over the temperature of the water, Tolna approached me. “Show me your wrist. Let’s get that pesky bracelet off.” She expectantly held out a wrinkled hand. 

“How did you–”

“I know a magic inhibitor when I see one.” She shook her head. “That nasty man,” she said underneath her breath. 

I held out my wrist. “You knew Gonin?”

“Of him,” she corrected, twisting and fumbling with the bracelet, studying it intently. 

Too afraid to ask what she knew, I remained silent as Tolna started muttering under her breath. Within seconds, the bracelet started to loosen. Tolna tugged at the clasp, and the bracelet fell away. 

The moment the metal no longer touched my skin, I felt my magic arise in my fingertips again. Perhaps it was the brief period without magic or my surroundings or simply my imagination, but I could’ve sworn the sensation felt stronger than ever. 

“Thank you,” I told the hag.

“Of course, Your Excellency,” she squawked before signaling to the others. “We’ll leave you to bathe in peace.” She set the bracelet on the table, and led the group out the door, closing it gently behind them.

I remained where I stood, rubbing my wrist where the bracelet used to be, staring thoughtfully at the bathtub. 

What a set of circumstances.

Back at Cair Paravel, I’d been the one carrying warm water up to the bathroom for whichever esteemed persons wanted to bathe. 

And yet, here was a bath all ready for me, and I’d barely lifted a finger.  

With a start, I realized that would be the sort of treatment awaiting me if I ever married Peter and became queen. I wouldn’t have to warm water for my own bath, let alone anyone else’s. I wouldn’t have to make food or scrub dishes dirtied by others in the kitchen. 

My role would look very different.

Was I ready for that? I didn’t know. 

All the thoughts that were hounding me evaporated as soon as I lowered myself into the warm water. 

Here we were, in the middle of summer, and yet I hadn’t felt warm since I stepped foot inside this castle. It was a delicious feeling, and my spirits slowly lifted as I scrubbed the dirt away. 

Even pulling on the blue-gray dress couldn’t dampen my spirits. 

I was drying my hair with a towel when I heard the first cry. 

It must’ve come from one of the hags, for it was a loud, feminine wail. 

I ran to the balcony attached to the witch’s bedroom, and my heart fell through the floor as I took in the sight.

In the courtyard below me, the White Witch’s army was scrambling to pack up their tents and get inside the gates. And out in the opening between the treeline and the bridge leading to the castle, a host of Narnians bedecked in red and gold were marching towards the castle.

The host’s numbers far exceeded any ordinary search party. I couldn’t see their expressions from here, but I could see the armor and weapons.

Had my message somehow not reached Peter after all?

No, it must’ve, for how would Peter have known to march on the White Witch’s castle?

I pushed the thought away. 

That didn’t matter right now. 

What mattered now was stopping bloodshed.

I burst out the door and promptly tripped over the heavy skirts of the dress. Cursing, I held my skirts out of the way as I scrambled to my feet. As if I needed any more proof that dresses were not the right attire if one wanted to get anything done.

As I ran down the stairs as fast as my feet could carry me, I thanked my lucky stars that all the ice inside the palace had long melted. I didn’t even want to know how many times over I would’ve tripped and fallen on my face.

The White Witch’s army was creating a stampede in their efforts to make it inside the walls of the palace. Multiple hags were screaming now, and the sound nearly split my ears. One of the cyclops was dragging a chest of axes behind him when he nearly tripped on a ghoul running past. 

As I ran for the gates, I caught sight of a young minotaur, barely as tall as my waist, with curly hair piled by her horns. I watched as the little minotaur dropped a doll and paused, clearly debating whether or not to run back towards danger to retrieve the doll. 

“Goria!” 

Achlosh scooped up the little minotaur and ran towards the castle with her in his arms. Was that his daughter? I didn’t dwell on it, continuing towards the gates. 

Magdrul—who’d seemingly materialized from thin air—stepped in my way. “It’s not safe!”

I tried to go around him, but Adonis stood in my way, and it was impossible to step around him. “They won’t hurt me,” I said in a rush, trying to make them understand, “but they will hurt the others. Please, I have to get out there.”

“Leaders don’t lead on the battlefield!” Adonis cried, looking terrified at the very idea. “They stay where it’s safe.”

“Not if they can save lives!” I didn’t wait for the response before ducking through Adonis’s legs and running towards the gates.

But before I could get there, the last of the army made it into the safety of the courtyard, and two giants swooped in to close the gates and began blocking them.

“Open the gates!” I shouted, and the giants shot alarmed looks at each other, clearly conflicted between the danger awaiting out the gates and their loyalty to me. “I’m the queen’s heir, and I am now the leader of this army. Now,” I glared fiercely, “open the gates!”

A moment passed where both giants seemed to consider my words before they unblocked the gates and let it swing open.

I ran across the bridge, towards the Narnian lines, frantically waving my hands. “Stop!”

A sudden commotion made me glance over my shoulder.

The White Witch’s army clearly wasn’t going to stand and watch as I put myself in harm’s way. The creatures, whom moments before had been racing to safety, now started filing out after me, preparing to protect me.

“Stay back! Please!” I cried, but they didn’t listen.

I spun to see that the Narnian line had almost reached me. 

“Stop!” I cried, but neither side stopped their advances. “Everything’s fine, there’s no reason to fight!” Not one creature on either side showed any hesitation. Any other time, I would’ve admired the dedication, but right now, I was about to get caught in the middle of a battle.

Desperation coursed through me as I started to imagine the clash that was about to happen.

Neither side would back down, and I knew the White Witch’s army, the lives I was now responsible for, would be wiped out completely.

A familiar tickle in my fingertips grabbed my attention. 

My magic. 

I could feel it trickling forward, responding to my panic, ready to be used.

The time had come.

Instead of pushing it down or ignoring it, I seized it and pulled on it as hard as I could. 

Ripples of power radiated from my body, causing cries to come from all around me as the very ground underneath my feet began to shake and rumble, as if some sleeping giant had been awakened. Cries sound from all around me as all the creatures tried to catch their footing. But the frontline of both armies crashed to the ground. 

“STOP!” I roared. 

A profound silence fell as hundreds of creatures stared at me, half in awe, half in fear as the shaking ceased. 

The Narnian army parted to reveal a man, dressed in a full suit of armor. I knew it was Peter, but my breath still caught in my throat when the man reached up to pull the helmet off his head, revealing his expression.

He looked horrified. 

I suddenly realized what this looked like from his perspective.

The last time he’d seen me, I was disappearing with my abuser from the safety of the palace walls.

Now, I stood in front of the White Witch’s army, on the bridge leading up to her castle, dressed in her clothes, using magic.

But when Peter’s hand moved to grip the hilt of his sword, a sudden rush of anger shot through me. He’d come prepared for war. This wasn’t a misunderstanding, this was his plan. To wage war on the remnants of the White Witch’s army and whisk me back to the safety of his castle, like some damsel in distress. 

I swallowed the anger, pushing it aside.

Inside, all I wanted to do was plead with Peter to listen to me, to turn his army around and return to Cair Paravel, but I couldn’t. 

Because right now, we weren’t Peter and Y/N. 

We were High King Peter the Magnificent and Her Excellency, Lady Y/N, daughter of Leda. 

I had everyones’ attention, and I was not going to waste it.

“I request an audience with the high king.” I wasn’t sure if my magic was amplifying the sound of my voice, or my voice was truly as steady and far reaching as it sounded on its own merit.

The army in front of me and the army behind both started muttering, everyone clearly having opinions about my request.

Peter remained motionless, his face stone cold.

Nobody moved as the two of us stared at each other from opposite sides of the battlefield. I didn’t move, refusing to show weakness in front of everyone, but unbeknownst to all, I was holding my breath.

The grim set of Peter’s face didn’t bode well for me, and I was sure he was on the verge of refusing when something behind me seemed to catch his eye.

I risked a momentary glance over my shoulder to see King Edmund coming up behind me.

Some part of Peter seemed to deflate at the sight of his brother, unharmed. He made to come towards us, but Queen Susan, who’d come up behind him, gripped his arm.

With that little motion, I knew what side Queen Susan was on. 

Peter seemed to collect himself. “Your request is granted,” he boomed. “In an hour, we will meet on the bridge, each with three accompaniments.” I nodded, to show my agreement, and with that one motion, the Narnian army started to retreat.

I turned to head back to the witch’s castle, hiding my shaking hands in my skirts. 

“They’ll likely set up a tent,” King Edmund said out of the side of his mouth as he walked beside me. “Peter will most certainly bring Susan. I didn’t see Lucy, so she’s probably back at Cair Paravel, since all four of us aren’t supposed to be away from the castle at one time. The other two accompaniments are probably going to be whatever generals he brought with him.”

“Will you come with me?” I asked. 

King Edmund nodded. “We should also bring Adonis, if he’s willing. They know him, and his presence should give them pause. Hopefully, pause enough for us to get a word in.”

I nodded numbly. 

“As for the third accompaniment–”

“I want Magdrul there.”

King Edmund looked hesitant. “I don’t know how Pete will react to that,” he said slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully, “considering Magdrul’s relationship with Maugrim.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care. I want Magdrul there.”

King Edmund didn’t seem convinced, but he nodded. “Okay.” We reached the gates, and I tried to continue on shaky legs, despite all the looks I was receiving from the army around me. “And Y/N?” I stopped, and glanced over my shoulder to see the slight smile on King Edmund’s face. “Nice magic trick.”

I ducked my head and continued my way up to my room.

I shut the door and promptly sank onto the floor, propping myself with my hands, trying to take a deep breath. 

********

“It’s been an hour,” King Edmund said on my right. “Let’s go.”

I tried to walk, I really did. But as I stared at the tent entrance on the bridge, my heart began to beat out of my chest, borderline painful, and my feet seemed rooted to the ground. I gulped, desperately trying to pull myself together. 

Come on, Y/N. You have work to do. You asked for this meeting, so go and join it!

A hand gently squeezed my left hand, and I looked to see Adonis beside me. “You can do this,” he said quietly. “Stop thinking about what you have to do and start thinking about who you’re doing it for.”

I didn’t dare turn to look at the army that stood at my back. An army of creatures that had been led astray by an evil person and had subsequently been branded with a reputation. 

Much like myself.

Spurred on, I found myself walking forward, King Edmund, Adonis, and Magdrul falling into step beside me. 

Much sooner than I would’ve liked, we arrived at the tent. Before I even had a chance to take a breath, Adonis and Magdrul wordlessly held back the curtains, allowing me to enter first. 

Peter was already there, sitting in a seat on one side of the large table in the center of the tent. Queen Susan sat at his side, and behind him stood the centaur I recognized as General Oreius—who’d fought at Peter’s side in the great battle—and Mr. Tumnus. 

I took the seat directly across from Peter, and 

Peter didn’t look up as I took the seat directly across from him. King Edmund sat down beside me while Magdrul and Adonis remained standing. My eyes traced Peter’s form, taking note of his armor, the golden crown placed solidly on his head, and his eyes trained on the table. 

Mr. Tumnus and General Oreius didn’t say anything. Queen Susan didn’t say anything. And Peter didn’t say anything.

They all just sat there, staring at me with varying amounts of stony suspicion. 

King Edmund’s foot nudged mine underneath the table, and I took a deep breath. “Thank you for meeting with me.” 

“Well, when you clearly have no scruples about using your magic,” Queen Susan said coolly, “we didn’t have much choice.” A pang shot through my chest, and it took great effort to conceal my expression. The queen pursed her lips.  “What do you want?” 

I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves. “I want to negotiate a peace treaty.”

Sounds of disbelief filled the tent, coming from both in front of me and behind me. Queen Susan sat back in her chair, frowning. General Oreius’s expression bordered on outrage while Mr. Tumnus looked afraid, of what I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to look at Magdrul or Adonis, fully aware that I hadn’t told them that this was my plan and not sure I wanted to know what they thought of it. So I kept my attention on Peter.

Unfortunately, his guise didn’t shift. 

Queen Susan recovered first. “Why would we negotiate with an army of killers? Betrayers? Kidnappers?” she asked, eyebrows drawing together in the unmistakable nature of anger.

“King Edmund and the rest of his party are unharmed,” I protested.

“They’re not the only ones they kidnapped,” General Oreius muttered. It took me a second to realize who he was referring to.

“I am unharmed as well.”

“Philanthropic kidnappers then,” Queen Susan snapped. So much for being the gentle queen. 

“They didn’t—“ I bit my tongue, realizing my shoulders were getting closer and closer to touching my ears. I forced them to relax. “I want peace. What’s your counteroffer?” 

The queen glanced at Peter, but Peter didn’t say anything.

I’d seen Peter in tenuous situations before. When we’d returned to Cair Paravel to find that the witch’s army had attacked, he’d been so confident in the meeting that followed. Or when he’d arrived at the library to see Prince Relalo and I, surrounded by soldiers, and immediately taken charge of the situation.

So why was he now refusing to talk at all? Why was he letting Queen Susan take the lead?

“A full surrender,” Queen Susan finally said. “We are willing to pardon you, Lady Y/N. But for their allegiance to the White Witch, the rest of the army faces death or life imprisonment.” Magdrul growled under his breath, and Queen Susan appeared on the verge of growling back. 

I swallowed hard.

I’d known a peace treaty would not be easily won, but this? This was unthinkable. 

“Well?” Queen Susan prompted.

“There must be another way,” I said softly, not even entirely sure if I’d meant to say it out loud.

“There isn’t.” Queen Susan took a deep breath. “These creatures have caused unspeakable pain to this land, and the wrongs must be righted.”

It took all my effort not to glance behind me at Magdrul, to reach for him the way I would’ve as a child, to sink my hand into his white fur for comfort. 

Queen Susan, and all the true Narnians by extension, had every right to be as aggressive and unforgiving as they were. They’d been deprived of their freedom for so long, and to gain it back, they’d had to fight with all their strength on a battlefield not far from here. 

The wounds ran deep. 

My eyes slid over to Peter, who was dutifully staring at the table. Look at me, I wanted to beg. See? It’s me. It’s Y/N, your Y/N. You can trust me.

Queen Susan’s eyes softened, as if she could hear my thoughts. “Y/N, let go. Accept the pardon, and allow us to deal with this.”

An inkling of irritation sparked in me. She was speaking to me like I was a child. I didn’t have much experience with leading armies and peace treaties, but that didn’t mean that I needed to step aside…right?

“Which crimes of mine are you willing to pardon?” I asked suddenly. 

Queen Susan’s brows lowered in confusion. “What?”

“You said you’re willing to pardon me. I’m curious what exactly you’re pardoning me for.”

She threw a glance at General Oreius, who shifted his weight. “We would pardon you for your temporary alignment with the remnants of the White Witch’s army, who, may I remind you, are enemies of Narnia.”

I rested my eyes on Peter, who had yet to look up from the table. “I have committed more crimes than that.”

Queen Susan shot another look at Peter, and from her expression, I knew Peter’d told her about the memory. I waited for the tidal wave of shame to come, and it did…just not as powerfully as I’d thought.  The queen cleared her throat. “Yes, well, that is not relevant.” Clearly she was trying to skim over this, especially considering Mr. Tumnus’s and General Oreius’s presence. 

But I’d fought too hard for the truth to let it be glossed over. “In my past, I have committed more than ‘a temporary alignment’ with what you perceive to be the wrong side. I’ve committed war crimes. Murders.”

Peter’s head jerked up. “Murders?” he blurted. “More than one?”

Finally, he was looking at me, fearfully, but directly. Resisting the urge to squirm, I held his gaze. “I know of at least eleven.”

The queen, faun, and centaur all looked shocked, but that was nothing compared to Peter’s reaction.

It was as if I’d cracked him open, similar to an egg about to be made into an omelet. I couldn’t be thankful I was no longer looking at his guarded expression, for his fear and horror were terrible things to behold. I felt something inside me start to quake a bit. If I thought the way he’d looked at me in his bathroom was bad, it was nothing compared to now.

Distantly, I wondered if this is what the White Witch had seen when dueling with Peter on the battlefield. 

Peter turned his head slightly to look at his sister, and when she looked back at him, he gave her the most miniscule of nods. 

“Well,” Queen Susan said with great effort as Peter returned his gaze to the table, “you were a child. We understand you might have been, urm…led in the wrong direction.”

I balled my hands into fists below the table, trying to channel my fear. “You’re willing to pardon me for the murders?” I pressed. 

Peter shifted, plainly uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Queen Susan said hesitantly, looking like she’d rather say anything but yes.

“All eleven of them?”

Queen Susan swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then why aren’t you willing to pardon the army?” 

“Because–” Queen Susan began in a shrill voice.

“Because they’re killers and betrayers?” I leaned forward. “I’m a killer. And King Edmund was a traitor.”

Queen Susan leapt to her feet, quiet fury burning on his face. “How dare you–”

“She’s right,” King Edmund said quietly, and Queen Susan’s head whipped to look at him. “I was a traitor, and I was crowned a king.”

“So if you’ve forgiven him,” I gestured to King Edmund, “and you’re willing to forgive me,” I placed a hand on my chest, “and you’re agreed that they were philanthropic kidnappers, then why won’t you pardon them as well?”

Queen Susan opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. 

It was my turn to not speak, to wait while the queen mustered up something to say. When she didn’t, I merely raised my eyebrows, refusing to give her an out. 

“King Peter?” she said finally. 

All attention turned to the high king, who was clenching his jaw tightly, his gaze trained not on me, not on his brother, but at some arbitrary point somewhere slightly above my head. “The offer still stands,” he said softly. “The only pardon we will authorize is Lady Y/N’s.”

Somehow his gentility only made me angry. “Why are you willing to overlook my crimes under the assumption that the White Witch had a hand in my actions, yet you won’t extend the same grace to them?”

“We have no reason to pardon them,” Peter said, raising his voice as well, but still not looking at me. “Pardoning them doesn’t offer us any advantage.”

“Advantage?” I repeated hoarsely. “How about unity in Narnia? How about finally healing the wounds of this land? Is that not enough?” Peter’s eyes slid to my face again, and I knew what I needed to say next. “I don’t want either of us to lead a battle that results in more graves being dug.”

Peter inhaled sharply, and I knew we were remembering the same conversation, many nights ago, on the turret back at Cair Paravel. There have been many graves dug in result of battles I lead, he’d said. Does the end truly justify the means?

Judging by the haunted look in his face, I’d struck a nerve. 

But Queen Susan had regained her composure. “All the Narnian hostages have been returned, and considering my brother,” she threw a dirty look at King Edmund, “is aiding you, no threat upon his life would be believed. Simply put, you have no bargaining power here. Our army exceeds yours in might and numbers.”

I nearly groaned aloud, for she was right. They could attack us outright or even starve us out without much effort on their part.

King Edmund got to his feet, drawing all eyes. “We’re at an impasse,” he said calmly. “Perhaps we should take the night to mull over what’s been said and meet again after the sun rises.”

Again, Queen Susan looked to her unresponsive older brother before letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine. We’ll reconvene tomorrow morning.”

Peter immediately rose to his feet and left the tent. I watched him go, a pit in my stomach. 

I couldn’t shake the feeling that this conversation had perhaps stretched us too far.

Queen Susan took time getting up from her chair. “Y/N,” she said, and trepidation glided through my gut as I waited for her to continue. She let out a sigh. “Can’t you just surrender? It would be better for everyone involved, it’d be better for Peter.”

“It would be easier,” I conceded. “But I doubt the witch’s army would say it was better.”

She shook her head before following Peter. 

Once General Oreius and Mr. Tumnus had left, I slouched, resting my forehead on the wooden table, feeling completely drained.

“You did really well,” King Edmund said from beside me.

Adonis’s voice came from somewhere behind me. “He’s right. You held your ground and made good points.”

“It didn’t make a difference,” I mumbled, before sitting up again to look at my confidantes. “They’re never going to agree to peace.”

“It seems bleak now,” King Edmund said soothingly. “But it’ll be better tomorrow.”

Better? I wanted to scoff. They’d heard the whole conversation, they’d seen Peter’s expression and Queen Susan’s indignation. How could they possibly think that the Narnians would settle for anything less than complete annihilation of every creature standing in the courtyard to my back?

Had I done the right thing in fighting for the witch’s army? Or was I biting off more than a traumatized chambermaid could chew?

Numbly, I got up and exited the tent. 

Walking to the witch’s army was somehow more harrowing than walking into the tent in the first place, because I could see the faces of the witch’s army. 

Some looked grim. Others looked angry. Still more looked scared. 

I waited for the questions, preparing to try and talk my way out of this. But none of them said a thing. They simply watched me, waiting. 

Here they were, on the verge of uncertain doom, and their loyalty to me still did not waver. 

I was about to pull King Edmund aside and ask for advice on what to say when I caught sight of Goria. She was nestled in Achlosh’s arms, clinging to her doll and watching me with wide eyes. 

A soul-deep ache erupted in me. 

Was I much older than she when the White Witch sent me on a mission to kill Gonin and his party? Were the other Narnians prepared to tear her from Achlosh’s safe arms much the same way the Witch had probably torn me from my mother’s? 

The ache turned to hot anger. 

I had been an innocent, and the Witch exploited me for her own gain. How many of the creatures before me had been innocents too? How many of them would have actually done the things they did without her influence?

King Edmund was the one who’d experienced the Witch’s manipulation, and he was on my side. Peter and his sisters had not been tempted. They’d been whisked away to Aslan and started on their paths of goodness under his supervision. 

They could not possibly understand.

But I did. 

Just like that, a fire lit in my stomach. 

However difficult or short-lived my leadership would be, these creatures were my people, in more ways than one. And now it was time for me to step up. 

“Listen to me,” I said, my voice carrying. “You have given me the honor of leading you, and I will not betray that. I will not allow for any mistreatment of you. I will stand by you until the end, whatever and whenever that may be.”

The army exchanged looks, their faces lifting. 

I lifted my chin higher. “I will find a way towards peace. You have my word.”

The army cheered, grinning at me and clapping each other on the back.

But where they clearly felt better, my nerves had only worsened.

********

Part 17

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[retold-tales]

I Will Always Save You

Imagine taking a sword for Peter and him saving you and scolding you while he patches you up

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